roundabout, buckskin pants reaching to the knees and patched with antelope skin, with a red blanket for an overcoat and woolen hat, so worn in the crown that it hung about the neck rather than rested on the head. Such was the young castle builder who had made his way across the plains with a capital of $2.50 in cash and a stock in trade of pins, fishhooks, and a pair of new boots. Such was the picturesque appearance made by one who was destined to play no unimportant part in the industrial development of Oregon.
For a time he slept in the shavings of a carpenter shop. He tried to trade his last possession, his beloved rifle for decent clothes but failed. One day in his wanderings along the street he chanced to meet the chief factor of the Hudson Bay Company, the hero of his life. After a few inquiries Doctor McLoughlin gave orders to a clerk to furnish Watt with clothing. "Tut, tut, tut," said the old man, "what people these Americans are, wandering vagabonds across a continent. What are they coming here for? Give him some clothes." After a bath behind the shade of a neighboring bank of the river Watt emerged clad in his suit of British corduroy and with all his preconceived and inherited antipathy toward the British and the Catholics removed. With the first money earned from the task of bricklaying, an employment given him by Doctor McLoughlin, he sought to pay for his clothes, and purchasing a bath tub, a cake of soap and some tobacco, which was his one luxury, he had begun his career as one of the pioneer captains of industry in Oregon.
It was not long before an opportunity for advancement presented itself. The Catholic Church on the French Prairie was then in process of construction and its builders were in need of a workman competent to complete the cornice. As Watt was something of an adept at the
