CHAPTER XIII.

STORY OF THE JAYHAWKERS.

In the foregoing chapters describing the trip across the deserts and

mountains, the author has had occasion many times to refer to the

"Jayhawkers." Their history is in many respects no less remarkable and

intensely interesting than that of his own party. The author has

therefore collected many notes and interviews with prominent members and

presents herewith the only written history of their travels.

The little train afterward known by this name was made up in the state

of Illinois in 1849, of industrious, enterprising young men who were

eager to see and explore the new country then promising gold to those

who sought. The young men were from Knoxville, Galesburg and other

towns. Not all were influenced by the desire for gold. It was said that

California had a milder climate and that pleasant homes could there be

made, and the long, cold winter avoided.

They placed some of the best men in position to manage for the whole.

The outfit was placed on a steam-boat and transported to Kanesville, on

the Missouri River above Council Bluffs. Some of the company went with

the goods while others bought teams and wagons in Western Missouri and

drove to the appointed place. Kanesville was a small Mormon camp, while

Council Bluffs was a trading post of a few log cabins on the river bank,

inhabited mostly by Indians. There was no regular ferry at either place,

and our party secured a log raft which they used to get their wagons and

provisions across, making the oxen swim.

They asked all the questions they could think of from everyone who

pretended to know anything about the great country to the west of them,

for it seemed a great undertaking to set out into the land they could

see stretching out before them across the river. Other parties bound the

same way, also arrived and joined them. They chose a guide who claimed

to have been over the road before. When all were gathered together the

guide told them that they were about to enter an Indian country, and

that the dusky residents did not always fancy the idea of strangers

richer than themselves passing through, and sometimes showed out some of

the bad traits the Indians had been said to possess. It would therefore

be better to organize and travel systematically. He would divide the

company into divisions and have each division choose a captain, and the

whole company unite in adopting some rules and laws which they would all

agree to observe. This arrangement was satisfactorily accomplished, and

they moved out in a sort of military style. And then they launched out

on the almost endless western prairie, said then to be a thousand miles

wide, containing few trees, and generally unknown.

These Illinois boys were young and full of mirth and fun which was

continually overflowing. They seemed to think they were to be on a sort

of every day picnic and bound to make life as merry and happy as it

could be. One of the boys was Ed Doty who was a sort of model traveler

in this line. A camp life suited him; he could drive an ox team, cook a

meal of victuals, turn a pan of flap-jacks with a flop, and possessed

many other frontier accomplishments. One day when Doty was engaged in

the duty of cooking flap-jacks another frolicsome fellow came up and

took off the cook's hat and commenced going through the motions of a

barber giving his customer a vigorous shampoo, saying:--"_I am going to

make a Jayhawker out of you, old boy_." Now it happened at the election

for captain in this division that Ed Doty was chosen captain, and no

sooner was the choice declared than the boys took the newly elected

captain on their shoulders and carried him around the camp introducing

him as the _King Bird of the Jayhawkers_. So their division was

afterwards known as The Jayhawkers, but whether the word originated with

them, and John Brown forgot to give them credit, or whether it was some

old frontier word used in sport on the occasion is more than I will

undertake to say; however the boys felt proud of their title and the

organization has been kept up to this day by the survivors, as will be

related further on.

The first few days they got along finely and began to lose all feeling

of danger and to become rather careless in their guard duty. When the

cattle had eaten enough and lain down, the guards would sometimes come

into camp and go to sleep, always finding the stock all right in the

morning and no enemy or suspicious persons in sight. But one bright

morning no cattle were in sight, which was rather strange as the country

was all prairie. They went out to look, making a big circuit and found

no traces till they came to the river, when they found tracks upon the

bank and saw some camps across the river, a mile or so away. Doty had a

small spy glass and by rigging up a tripod of small sticks to hold it

steady they scanned the camps pretty closely and decided that there were

too many oxen for the wagons in sight.

Some of the smartest of them stripped off their clothes and started to

swim the stream, but landed on the same side they started from. Captain

Doty studied the matter a little and then set out himself, being a good

swimmer, and by a little shrewd management and swimming up stream when

the current was strongest, soon got across to where he could touch

bottom and shouted to the others to do the same. Soon all the swimmers

were across.

They could now see that there were two trains on that side and that the

farther one had already begun to move and was about a mile in advance of

the nearest one, Doty said something must be done, and although they

only were clothed in undershirts they approached the nearest camp and

were handed some overalls for temporary use. The men in this camp on

hearing about the missing oxen said the fellows in the forward train

went over and got them, for, as they said there were no wagons in sight

and they must be strays. He said the forward train was from Tennessee,

and that they had some occasion to doubt their honesty and had refused

to travel with them any further. They said they were all old

Missourians, and did not want other people's property and if the boys

found their cattle with the Tenneseans, and wanted any help to get them

back again to call on them, and putting in some good strong swear words

for emphasis.

The boys, barefooted and with only overalls and shirts, started after

the moving train which they called to a halt when overtaken. The coarse

grass was pretty hard to hurry through, clothed as they were. The train

men were pretty gruff and wanted to know what was wanted. Capt. Doty

very emphatically told them he could see some of his oxen in their

train, and others in the herd, and he proposed to have them all back

again. The Jayhawker boys were unarmed but were in a fighting mood and

determined to have the stock at all hazards, and if not peaceably, war

might commence. The boys saw that the two trains were of about equal

strength, and if worse came to worst they could go back and get their

guns and men and come over in full force after their property, and they

were assured the Missourians would help them and a combination of forces

would give them a majority and they could not be beaten by the Tennessee

crowd. There was a good deal of talk, but finally when Doty demanded

that their cattle be unyoked and the others separated from the herd,

they yielded and gave them all their stock, some seventy head.

The Missourians had come up and heard the talk, and some of them went

back and helped drive the cattle to the river, and deal out some double

shotted thunder against the biggest scamps they had come across. It was

quite a job to get the cattle across the river. They would go in a

little way and then circle round and round like a circus, making no

progress. They finally put a rope on one of them and a man led him as

far as he could, which was more than half way, and although they landed

a good ways down stream, they got them all across safely, left their

borrowed overalls in the hands of their friends, with a thousand thanks

for valuable assistance, and plunged into the swift running Platte, and

swam back again to the northern side. They drove the straggling oxen

back to camp with a sense of great satisfaction, and in turn received

the praise of their friends who said that Ed Doty was the best Jayhawker

of the border.

This was the first unpleasantness and they were afterwards more cautious

and stood guard all night, watching closely all the time, both night and

day, for for any signs of danger. Thus in time they reached Salt Lake,

rather late in the season, but safe and sound, having escaped cholera or

other disease, and in good spirits to surmount any further difficulties

which might be met.

When the Jayhawkers reached Salt Lake it was found that it was not safe

to try to go the regular northern route to California, as they were

advised by those who seemed to know, as they might be snowed in on the

Sierra Nevada Mountains and perish. The Mormons told them that the snow

often fell there twenty feet deep, and some other stories likely to

deter them from making the attempt. They also told them of a route

farther south by which they could come into California at Los Angeles,

or they could remain in Salt Lake until May when it would be safe to try

the mountain route again. After listening to the talk of the

mountaineers who claimed to have been over the route and to know all

about it, and camping some time to rest and learn all they could, they

finally decided on taking the southern route. One Mormon told them of a

place where they could make a cut-off and save five hundred miles, and,

if they would follow his instructions, they would find the route fully

as good as the one usually traveled which was not much better than a

trail. The cut-off was so instilled into their minds that they had great

confidence in the report and talked very favorably of taking it.

The man Williams made for them a map of the proposed route and explained

it to them and others who had gathered at Salt Lake, and from the map

they could see how much was to be gained in time and distance by taking

that route. A month or two of travel was indeed something to gain, and

as the roads seemed similar in quality the reasoning was very plausible

The map explained all the watering places and favorable things but said

nothing about a desert, and as there was no one to tell them any

unfavorable side to this plan there were many who quite concluded to go

this way, and among those who did so were the Jayhawkers, and the

"Williams Short Route" was freely talked about as a settled thing by

them.

They now set about preparing to move. They sold, traded, and bought oxen

till they had the best and fattest teams in Salt Lake Valley; selected

good provisions, and plenty of them so as to be safe in case of delay,

and contended that nothing could stop them in a country where but little

snow could be, and water was as plentiful as shown on the map. They

wanted to reach the gold mines and this was the shortest route and even

if it was still considerably longer than the northern way they said they

would rather be moving along and thus gain time than to so long in camp

with nothing to do by which they could earn a cent. There were here in

Salt Lake ten times as many men as could find employment, and Brigham's

saints would be pretty sure to get all of the odd jobs to the exclusion

of the heretics.

To bring the matter to a determination a paper was drawn up for those to

sign who wanted to go the southern route and it was pretty generally

signed. The Mormon elder, John Hunt, was consulted, and as he seemed to

know the general southern route better than any one else, he was

prevailed upon to guide the train through on the old Spanish Trail. This

had never been used as a wagon road, but he thought it could be without

much difficulty, and he said if they could secure him a fair sized train

he would go and conduct them through for ten dollars a wagon. This

proposition was accepted after some consideration, and all who wished to

do so were given permission to join the train. In a few days there were

one hundred and seven wagons enlisted for this route, including seven

Mormons bound for San Bernardino.

Preparations for the trip now began in good earnest, and the Saints were

liberally patronized in purchase of flour and meat which were the

principal things they had to sell. As their several wagons were loaded

they moved out in small lots to the south to keep in good fresh feed for

their animals, and to move on slowly till all were ready, when they

would join in one large body and proceed. The guide was in no special

haste as he said he wanted to wait a little later so the weather in the

south would be cooler than they would be likely to find it if they

pressed on at once. He said that in summer it was so hot that no white

man could endure the heat. He said they could work slowly along the

trail, and when the right time came he would move out himself, and that

they might be assured that it would then be the coolest and best time in

which to travel down there. So the company dallied along, and it was

October before the whole train was made up at a point about a hundred

miles south of Salt Lake.

The complete organization was divided into seven divisions, each with

its captain, and division No. 1 was to lead the march the first day and

then fall to the rear while No. 2 took the advance, and so continued

till all had taken their turn. The leading party was to guard and care

for the cattle and deliver them in the morning. The regulations were

read aloud to the captains, and this rather large army of men, women and

children, with about five hundred head of stock, moved out very

systematically. It would sometimes be fully ten o'clock before the rear

division could make a start, and correspondingly late before they could

get up with the main camp at night. They got along very well, but

cleaned the country of grass for some distance each side of the trail,

as they swept along.

About the first of November Capt. Smith overtook us with the pack train,

and camped with us at night. He formed many acquaintances and told them

he was going to take a shorter route and save five hundred miles, rather

than take the long route by way of Los Angeles. He had a map of his

proposed route, and it was very much like the one we had. He also stated

that it could probably be as easily traveled as the one by way of Los

Angeles, and as a consequence of his talk, cut-off fever began to rage

in camp again. Some got very enthusiastic in the matter and spoke

publicly in favor of following Capt. Smith when he should come to the

place when his short route turned away from the other trail. His plan

grew so much in favor that when the place was reached a hundred wagons

turned out into the Smith trail, leaving Capt. Hunt only the seven

Mormon wagon bound for San Bernardino, Hunt stood at the forks of the

road as the wagons went by and said to them;--"Good-bye, friends. I

cannot, according to my agreement go with you, for I was hired for this

road, and no other was mentioned. I am in duty bound to go even if only

one wagon decides to go." When the last wagon had passed him he still

stood talking with several who had chosen the new way and told them they

were taking a big risk, for they did not know very much about the route,

and he had been thinking that they might find it pretty rough and hard

to get over the first time. He said that if all decided to go that way

he would go and help them, even if they went to h-ll, but as it was he

could not. He wished them luck and the two trains parted company.

At the end of three days of travel on the Smith trail they came to the

top of a long steep hill. The trail went down and down, and they see no

way of crossing the terribly deep cañon that was before them. So they

went into camp and sent explorers out to investigate and find a crossing

if possible.

On the second day the explorers began to return with very unfavorable

reports, and many who found their progress thus blocked turned about and

started to follow Hunt. Most of the wagons which remained had each one

or more of their men out exploring and could not turn back until their

return. Several of the Jayhawkers having once started on this route were

very anxious to get through on it if a way could be found for them to do

it, and therefore searched farther and with greater determination than

the others. When they returned they reported they had found a way around

the head of the cañon and they believed it to be the right way. The map

Williams had given them did not show this cañon and they believed it to

be correct, and that the real road led around at the place which they

had found, and no further trouble would be met.

Acting on this report about twenty wagons, including the Jayhawkers,

concluded to go ahead. "We can beat the other fellows a month," said

they, and so they hitched up and pulled out in a northerly direction,

feeling in good spirits and hopeful of success.

They named this place Mt. Misery. While camped here a lone and seemingly

friendless man died and was buried. None seem now to remember his name,

but think he was from Kentucky. He was low with consumption and not

strong enough to endure the hardships of the journey.

About the third night the Jayhawkers were overtaken by seven more wagons

owned by A. Bennett and friends, J.B. Arcane and family, two men named

Earhart and a son of one of them, and one or two other wagons.

The Jayhawker's train was made up of men from many states, but seemed

well united and was as complete as when they first started. The Author

was with the party that came up in the rear, which had started later but

traveled faster on account of having a road broken for them. He visited

the leaders in camp when they were discussing the necessity of forming a

new travelling compact to help and protect each other on the road. Those

who had no families were objecting to being bound to those who had women

and children with them. They argued that the road would be hard and

difficult and those wagons with women and children would require more

assistance than they would be able to render in return. They said they

could go back and follow Hunt who was on a better road and they could

proceed with more safely.

Among those with this train was Rev. J.W. Brier, his wife and three

children. He objected to being turned back and said he did not want to

be assisted, but would go with them and do his part and take care of

himself. The Author listened to the various speeches without speaking

and became satisfied that it would end in every one looking out for

himself in case of hard times. He went over to their camp again the next

night and wished to ask them why they were steering so nearly due north.

He said to them that they were going toward Salt Lake rather than

California, and that the Bennet party did not feel inclined to follow

them any farther in that direction. They replied that their map told

them to go north a day or more and then they would find the route as

represented. They would then turn west and reach Owen's Lake and from

there there would be no more trouble. The Jayhawker crowd seemed to

think they could go anywhere and no difficulty could happen which they

couldn't overcome. Bennett's little train turned west from this point

and the Jayhawkers went on north, but before night they changed their

minds and came following on after Bennett whom they overtook and passed,

again taking the lead.

Thus far the country had been well watered and furnished plenty of

grass, and most of them talked and believed that this kind of rolling

country would last all the way through. The men at leisure scattered

around over the hills on each side of the route taken by the train, and

in advance of it, hunting camping places and making a regular picnic of

it. There were no hardships, and one man had a fiddle which he tuned up

evenings and gave plenty of fine music. Joy and happiness seemed the

rule, and all of the train were certainly having a good time of it.

But gradually there came a change as the wagon wheels rolled westward.

The valleys seemed to have no streams in them, and the mountain ranges

grew more and more broken, and in the lower ground a dry lake could be

found, and water and grass grew scarce--so much so that both men and

oxen suffered. These dry lake beds deceived them many times. They seemed

as if containing plenty of water, and off the men would go to explore.

They usually found the distance to them about three times as far as they

at first supposed, and when at last they reached them they found no

water, but a dry, shining bed, smooth as glass, but just clay, hard as a

rock. Most of these dry lakes showed no outlet, nor any inlet for that

matter, though at some period in the past they must have been full of

water. Nothing grew in the shape of vegetables or plants except a small,

stunted, bitter brush.

Away to the west and north there was much broken country, the mountain

ranges higher and rougher and more barren, and from almost every sightly

elevation there appeared one or more of these dry lake beds. One night

after about three days of travel the whole of the train of twenty seven

wagons was camped along the bank of one of these lakes, this one with a

very little water in it not more than one fourth or one half an inch in

depth, and yet spread out to the width of a mile or more. It was truly

providential, for by digging holes along the border the water would run

into them and prove abundant for all, both oxen and men. If it had

proved dry, as so many before had proved, or if we had been a few days

earlier or later we might not have found a drop. This proved to be the

last time the whole twenty seven wagons were gathered in one camp

together.

The Author came into camp about nine o'clock in the evening after

climbing many peaks and taking a survey of the surrounding country with

a field glass. Men from nearly every mess came to him to inquire what he

had seen. They asked all sorts of questions and wanted an opinion as to

the advisability of trailing across the prairie directly west, which

then seemed easy. They were told that from what could be seen from the

summit of buttes both north and south of the camp, ranging a hundred or

so miles in almost every direction, it was believed no water could be

found, between the present camp and a range of mountains which could be

seen crossing the route far to the west. "Well," said Capt. Doty of the

Jayhawkers, "I don't like to hear such discouraging talk from Manley,

but I think we will have to steer straight ahead. The prospect for water

seems to be about the same, west or south, and I cannot see that we

would better ourselves, by going north." When morning came Capt. Doty

and his party yoked up and set out straight across the desert, leaving

seven wagons of the Bennett party still in camp.

For some time all of us had seen in the range ahead an appearance of a

pass, or lower place in the mountain, and we had got to calling it

Martin's Pass, naming it after Jim Martin. There was a snow-capped peak

just to the south of it and the pass, now apparently exactly west of the

lake camp, seemed to the Jayhawkers easy to reach. Their wills were

strong enough and they were running over with determination and energy

enough to carry them over any plain, no matter how dry or barren, or

over any mountain no matter how rugged and steep.

Five days they traveled, without finding water, and small supply they

took along had been consumed. For lack of water they could not eat or

sleep. The oxen gathered round the little fire and seemed to beg for

water, they had no cud to chew unless it was the cud of disappointment.

The range of mountains they had been aiming for still seemed far away

and the possible show for reaching it seemed very poor indeed, and the

prospect of any water hole between them and the mountains poorer yet.

Hope was pretty near gone. Martins mess unyoked their oxen from the

wagons, put some small packs on their own backs, and loaded some upon

the backs of the oxen, and turned south toward the nearest snowy

mountain they could see, the same one towards which the Bennett party

steered from the lake camp.

The Doty party kept their courage longer and kept on straight ahead for

another day, and then camped, almost without hope. No rest came to them,

nor sleep. Towards morning as they stood around the fire a stray cloud

appeared and hid the stars, and shortly after began to unload a cargo of

snow it carried. They spread out every blanket, and brushed up every bit

they could from the smooth places, kindled a little fire of brush under

the camp kettles and melted all the snow all of them could gather,

besides filling their mouths as fast as ever they could, hoping that it

would full in sufficient quantities to satisfy themselves and the oxen,

and quench their dreadful thirst. Slowly the cloud moved scattering the

snowflakes till they felt relieved. The last time the Author conversed

with a member of this party was in 1892, and it was conceded that this

storm saved the lives of both man and beast in that little band of

Jayhawkers. It was like manna falling from Heaven, and as surely saved

their lives as did the manna of the Bible save the lives of the tribes

of Israel. They had no reason to expect a storm of rain or snow, but

came to them just as they were perishing. A little further on they came

to a small stream of water, and as the bed showed only a recent flow it

must also have come from the little local storm further up the mountain.

They used this water freely, even though it was not very good, and it

acted on them very much like a solution of Glanber Salts.

They decided at first that they had better follow the stream southward,

but after a little time, feeling the sickness caused by the water, they

saw it was no advantage and turned west again, bearing to the north

toward a sort of pass they could now see in the mountains in that

direction. This stream is now known as the Amargosa, or bitter, river.

The new direction in which they marched gave them an up-hill route for

thirty or forty miles, rough and barren, with no water or grass. There

was no road or trail to follow, the oxen were as weak as their owners

from drinking the bitter water, and the road needed some clearing and

breaking in places before the wagons could pass. They moved quite slowly

and reached the summit on the second night with the loss of a single ox.

The Author would say here that this was the last ox which was allowed to

die without using the flesh for food, and it was from this same one he

cut a steak to eat on Christmas eve, 1849.

From the summit they took a way down a dark, deep cañon having a steep

slope, and very rocky and bad, but down which the oxen drew their loads

much easier than when they came up, reaching water on the third day,

where there were many springs, and a sort of coarse grass for the oxen.

The place is now known as Furnace Creek. The Jayhawkers passed on, and

here at these very springs was where the Author overtook the Rev. J.W.

Brier delivering a lecture to his children on the benefits of an early

education, as referred to in his narrative.

As the Jayhawkers drove out of this Furnace Creek Cañon the valley into

which they came was very narrow, the high, snow-capped mountain before

them seemed steeper and rougher than ever, so steep in fact that it

could not be ascended by a man on foot. A short distance below could be

seen a lake containing water, and the pass toward which they had been

directing their course seemed to the north of them. They therefore

turned their course in that direction. The road was sandy, and the brush

that grew on it was only a few inches high. On their way they came to an

abandoned Indian camp occupied by one poor old blind red man. He would

hold his mouth open like a young bird begging for something to eat. One

man dropped kernels of parched corn into his mouth, but instead of

eating them he quickly spit them out; it seemed that he had been left to

die and could not or would not. His hair was white as snow. His skin

looked about the color of a smoked ham, and so crippled was he that he

crawled about like a beast, on all fours. It was barely possible that he

had been left to watch, and that his great infirmities were only

pretended, but they seemed genuine enough, and were doubtless true. They

left him in peaceable possession of the spot and traveled on.

They approached the base of the mountain in front of what they had all

along supposed to be a pass, and found, as they had lately begun to

suspect, that there was no pass that their wagons could be taken

through, and they must be abandoned. The camp was poor. What little

water there was had a salty taste, and they could only find here and

there a bunch of the poorest grass. The oxen stood around as if utterly

dispirited, and would sometimes make a faint effort to pick up and eat

some of the dry brush that grew around the desolate camp. This camp is

now known to be in the northern part of Death Valley, but then they knew

no names for anything, but if dreariness and absence of life, and

threatened danger all around were any indication, they might well have

named it Death Valley as was afterwards done by the party with whom the

Author traveled.

The party had been brave till now, but when they realized that they must

make pack animals of themselves, and trudge on, they knew not where,

perhaps to only a lingering death, the keen edge of disappointment cut

close, and they realized how desolate they were. They felt much inclined

to attribute all their troubles to the advice of the Mormons. Some said

that the plan was thus to wipe so many more hated Gentiles out of the

way, and wishes were deep and loud that the Mormons might all be buried

out of sight in the Great Salt Lake. They thought Lot's wife must have

been turned to salt in the neighborhood, everything was so impregnated

with saline substances, and the same result might come to them. But the

inherent manhood of the little band came to their relief and they

determined not to die without a struggle for escape and life.

They killed some of their oxen, and took the wood of their wagons and

kindled fires to dry and smoke the flesh so it would be light and easy

to carry with them. They scattered all surplus baggage around the

ground, carefully storing and saving the bit of bread that yet remained

and dividing it equally among the party. They also divided the tea,

coffee, rice and some such things, and each one agreed that he could not

ask aught of his neighbor more. Knapsacks were improvised from parts of

the wagon canvas, and long strips of canvas were made into a sort of

pack harness for the oxen. It was a sad sight to see the strong and

vigorous young men of a few days ago reduced to such straits; almost

skeletons now, with no hope of nourishment to invigorate them. They made

canteens by sewing a couple of small powder cans in cloth, with a band

to go over the shoulders.

The Jayhawkers were still making their preparations when the Martin

party and Rev. J.W. Brier and family came up to their camp, having taken

a circuit around farther to the south. The Martin party was already in

marching order and this camp was so poor that they did not wait, but

gave all their oxen they had left to Mr. Brier and said they could get

on faster without them. They took a straight course over the hills and

up the mountain, saying they believed they had provisions enough upon

their backs to last them through, and that nothing should check their

progress till they reached the other side, where they said were fertile

valleys and plenty of chance to live.

The Doty party, or Jayhawkers, when they were ready started first a

northerly course to find a more favorable place to cross the range and

drove their oxen with them, each with a small pack. They soon came to

some good water, and after refreshing themselves turned westward to

cross the great mountain before them. Both men and oxen were shod with

moccasins made of raw-hide to protect the feet against sharp rocks. They

could see no trail but merely picked out the best way to go. While

climbing the steep mountain side they came across a dead ox left by some

party that had gone before them. They cut out the tongue and some of the

best meat and ate it to eke out their own small stock, and carried some

pieces with them, but soon threw it all away but enough for a roast for

supper.

When it was getting dark they were almost at the summit, but there was

no good camping place, and they saw a small fire light at a little

distance and went to it, finding a poor lone camper taking care of

himself. They camped here also. It seemed as if there were many men from

the various parties scattered all around the country, each one seeking

out the path which seemed to suit best his tender feet or present fancy,

steering west as well as mountains and cañon would permit, some farther

north, some farther south and generally demoralized, each thinking that

as a last resort he would be able to save his own life. It seemed to be

a question of will and endurance, strong hearts and keeping the body in

motion. The weak and faint must fail, and the strong said to the

weak;--"Stand up; be a man; don't fall down;" and so the strong spurred

on the weak and kept them up as best they could.

Down the mountain they went, on the west side and instead of Los

Angeles, which some of them expected to see, they saw only a salt lake

in the midst of a barren desert valley and their route lay directly

across it. They traveled in several directions as they went across. One

went across the valley on a strip of dried mud between two small lakes.

Others followed down along the east side of the lake near the foot of

the mountain, where they found some good water and an old Indian camp.

They found some mosquite beans, which they did not know were of much

use, but really, if they had known how to fix them up a little they

would have been good food.

Capt. Doty's mess crossed between the lakes on the strip of dry mud

while others went on where it was still soft and left marks of their

foot-steps. Both parties turned up a small cañon on the west side and

began the ascent of a black and barren range, containing no water, but

in the bed of the ravine near the summit they found some damp sand and

tried to dig with their hands to find some of the precious fluid. But no

water came, and in the morning one of their number Mr. Fish died and was

left unburied on the barren rocks. No doubt his bones could be found

there to-day.

Turning west again, they had a down grade over a most barren and rocky

road for many miles. The prospect from this point was any thing but

cheering. To the left a large lake could be seen, and from their

previous experience they concluded it to be salt, and the valley they

were coming to was very sandy, and the hardest sort of footing for men

and animals as weak as those of the party were. It must be crossed

before there was any possibility of water, and when across it was quite

uncertain whether they could obtain any. One of their number had already

died of thirst and fatigue and all were suffering terribly.

The valley seemed about eight miles across, and before they were half

way over Mr. Ischam, one of their party sat down, perfectly exhausted,

and said he could not take another step. No one was able to assist him

or give him a drink of water, and they could not tarry to see if rest

would refresh him. They could only look sadly at him and pass on in

silence, for he seemed fast wasting away. The thought came to everyone

that perhaps it would be his turn next to sit down and see the others

pass on. In fact the probability of any more of them living another day

was very poor, for they all grew weaker and weaker with every hour, and

no one knew how many hours must pass before they could hope for water.

There was not moisture enough in their poor bodies to make tears, and no

one dare open his mouth, lest all the moisture suddenly evaporate and

respiration cease.

Those who had no cattle took different courses to reach the hills and

mountains on the west side of this valley, hoping there to find water

and signal to the others if they were successful. All except the two men

managed to get across, and finding no water the packs were taken from

the oxen and they were driven to the lake which appeared on the left.

Reaching the lake they found the water red in color and so strong of

alkali that no man or beast could take a single swallow. They drove the

cattle back again with sad hearts, and almost despondent, for in the

rough, dry rocks of the mountains there seemed no signs of water. But

they were saved again. Those who bore farthest to the right in their

course to the mountains, steering toward a pile of tremendous rocks,

found a little stream of good water which flowed only a short distance

and then sank into the sand. This good news spread rapidly, and all soon

gathered at the little streamlet. It was slow work getting water for

them all, but by being patient they were all filled up. Some took two

canteens of water and hurried back to Mr. Ischam, whom they found still

alive but his mouth and throat so dry and parched, and his strength so

small that he was unable to swallow a single drop, and while they waited

he breathed his last. With their hands and feet they dug away the sand

for a shallow grave, placed the body in it, covered it with his

blankets, and then scraped the sand back over again to make a little

mound over their dead comrade. Perhaps if he could have walked a mile

farther he might have lived, and but for the little trickling stream of

water from the rocks they might all be dead, so slight were the

circumstances that turned the scale to balance toward life or death.

There was so little feed for oxen that they could gain no strength, but

were much refreshed by the water and could still travel. One was killed

here, and the meat, poor as it was, gave the men new strength. They all

guessed it to be at least fifty miles to the base of the great snow

mountain before them, and what there was between no one could tell, for

there were hills and valleys between. Leaving the little spring their

course led first up a small cañon, and when they reached the summit of

the ridge a small valley covered with sage brush was before them, the

most fertile spot they had seen for a long time. The descent to this

valley was through another cañon which was filled with large boulders

for much of the way, and over these it seemed almost impossible to get

the cattle. They had seen no water since leaving the little stream, and

the plain they were now approaching seemed thirty miles wide, with no

signs of streams or springs. However just at the foot of the cañon they

found a small water hole, but the water was so salt that even the oxen

refused to drink it.

They decided to make a push across the plain and endeavor to reach the

other side in two days, and they knew there could be no water on its

even expanse. The plain seemed quite an up grade from where they were to

the base of the mountain.

On the second day they all reached the point they were aiming for except

Rev. J.W. Brier and family, and they came in one day behind. Every one

looked out for himself and had no time nor strength to spare to help

others. Here on a small bench overlooking the country to the south and

east but still a long distance from the snow, they found some holes of

water, and some bunch grass a little farther up the hill. Here was a

large trail coming from the north and leading from this point westward.

There were no signs of recent use, but there were many indications that

it was quite ancient and had been considerably traveled in time past.

This was quite encouraging to many of them and they declared they would

follow this trail which would surely lead to some place well known, in a

better country. They cared not whether it led to California, Mexico, or

Texas, only that they might get out of this country which seemed

accursed. Any place where they could get something to eat and drink

would be better than this.

Mr. and Mrs. Brier had some pretty hard struggles to get along, and

everyone of this party has ever been loud in praise of the energy and

determination of the brave little woman of the Brier mess. All agreed

that she was by far the best man of the party. She was the one who put

the packs on the oxen in the morning. She it was who took them off at

night, built the fires, cooked the food, helped the children, and did

all sorts of work when the father of the family was too tired, which was

almost all of the time. They all said that he, like other ministers, had

fallen out with any work but that of the tongue, and seemed perfectly

willing for some one else to do the work. Mrs. Brier had the sympathy of

everyone, and many would have helped her if they could. She waited on

her big husband with untiring zeal, and still had time to care for the

children with all of a mother's love. It seemed almost impossible that

one little woman could do so much. It was entirely to her untiring

devotion that her husband and children lived. Mr. Brier had but little

sympathy or help from any one but her. Some were quite sarcastic in

their remarks about the invalid preacher who never earned his bread by

the sweat of his brow, and by their actions showed that they did not

care very much whether he ever got through or not. They thought he ought

to have asserted his manliness and taken the burden on himself, and not

lean upon his delicate and trusting wife as he seemed to do. All are

sure that it is to his faithful wife the Rev. J.W. Brier owed his succor

from the sands of that desert.

Looking back on the scenes of that day, the way the selfish dispositions

of people were made manifest is almost incredible. Every one seemed to

think only of saving his own life, and every spark of human sympathy and

kindness seemed extinguished. A man would drink the last cup of water

even if his neighbor choked.

This camp was the same one which the Author mentions in his narrative,

to which Rogers and himself crept so silently and carefully at night to

ascertain whether the occupants were friends or foes. They were much

pleased to find it was Capt. Doty of the Jayhawkers and his mess who had

remained behind to dry the flesh of an ox they had killed when it could

travel no longer. The others had gone on ahead, following the trail,

leaving these to follow. They staid here two days, and it was while

waiting here that the Rev. J.W. Brier came up as before related, and

they all went on together when they moved.

Nearly every man had carried a gun in the early days of the expedition,

hoping to kill game, and to be well armed in case of attack by Indians

or enemies, but they began to find that they were useless encumbrances,

and first one and then another would throw away his fire-arms as a

burden too great for a weary man to bear. There was no game, and the

poor weak men hardly deemed their own lives worth defending against an

enemy when a day or two of lack of water would end the matter of life at

any rate.

As they slept they dreamed the most tantalizing dreams of clear,

rippling brooks of water; of wading knee deep in the most beautiful of

ponds; of hoisting the old moss-covered bucket from some deep old well;

of breaking and eating great white loaves of bread; of surrounding the

home table with its load of steaming beans and bacon, fragrant coffee

and delicious fried cakes. With such dreams of comfort, they awoke to

realize more fully the terrors of their dry and swollen throats, the

discomfort of empty stomachs. Water and food were the great riches of

life to them then. Had piles of twenty-dollars pieces been on the one

hand and a bucket of cold water on the other there is no doubt of the

choice that would have been made.

Seven or eight miles from this place were two branches to the trail. One

led into the mountains toward the snow, and the other still bore

southerly. They could see that some other party who had no oxen to drive

had taken the more northerly route, which seemed to lead more directly

in the direction of the mines of California. Those who came later, with

animals thought it would be folly to try to cross the deep snow they

could see on the mountains before them and concluded that it would be

safer to the south of the snow line, braving the danger of scarcity of

water, rather than to perish in the snow. Capt. Doty was willing to

attempt the northern branch of the trail if the others so decided, but

the general feeling was in favor of the more plain and open trail which

led away from the snows. It is known that this Northern branch led over

what is known as Walker's Pass, coming out at the Kern River.

Taking then the southern branch, the party passed through a range of low

mountains, and then the country before them seemed quite level for a

hundred miles.

They expected they would find much difficulty on account of water, as

their experience had taught them that it was very scarce in such

locations, but this trail when they came to follow it led them for eight

or ten miles over a level piece of high land that looked as if it might

have slid down from the high mountain at some day long past, and this

easily traveled road brought them at last to the top of a steep hill,

down which they went and found near the bottom, a small weak stream of

water, but no grass, and but little fuel of any kind. (This was the same

camp at which Rogers and the Author overtook the advance party.) Here

they killed an ox, which made a good meal for all, and not much remained

over, for many had no oxen and were getting out of all sorts of

provisions. They depended much on the generosity of their fellow

travelers. Many of them stood back, and waited till those who owned the

food were satisfied, and were very grateful when they were invited to

take even the poorest morsels.

They could count the oxen and make a pretty close guess of how many days

they could live in this way, even with the best probable fortune

favoring them, and to the best of them there was but little hope, and to

those who were dependent it seemed as if the fate of Fish and Ischam

might be theirs almost any day. When the Author conversed with them at

this camp he found them the first really heart-broken men he had ever

seen. Some were men of middle age who had left good farms that gave them

every need, and these they had left to seek a yellow phantom, and now

there were yellow phantoms of a different sort rearing their dreadful

forms all about them. They called themselves foolish gold hunters to

forsake a land of plenty for a chance to leave their bones in a hot

desert. More eyes than one filled with tears, and hopes in more than one

breast vanished to almost nothing. More than one would gladly have

placed himself back where he could have been assured of the poorest fare

he ever saw upon his farm, for bread and water would have been an

assurance of life, of which there seemed to be really but little

expectation here.

When they left this camp in the cañon the trail was between two high

rocks, rising like walls on each side. In one place they were so near

together that an ox could hardly squeeze through. In a very short time

they came to a bunch of willows growing out in the open ground. The

little bunch or grove was forty or fifty feet in diameter, and in the

center was a spring of water. The center of the clump had been cleared

out, making a sort of corral of bushes, enclosing the spring. On the

outside there was quite a little growth of grass, which was a fortunate

thing for their poor beasts.

Away in the distance, rising up a little against the western sky they

could see mountains with snow on them, and it seemed as if it were a

journey of five or six days to reach them, but the good water and the

grass bolstered up their spirits wonderfully for there was present

relief and rather better prospects ahead. They were pretty sure that the

wide plain held no water. Everything that would hold the precious drink

was filled, and the best preparations made for what they believed was to

be the final struggle for life. They rested one day and prepared for the

very worst that might before them. Early in the morning when they could

see plainest, they looked across the expanse before them and really it

did not seem quite so barren, hot and desolate as the region they had

passed, and they talked and hoped that this would be the last desert

they must cross and that Los Angeles lay just beyond the sunny ridge

they could dimly see ahead. There were some tears that more than one

would not live to answer roll call on the other side, but it was the

last hope, and worth an earnest, active trial.

Early in the morning, much refreshed, they started on again with rather

sober faces. That night one man insisted on sleeping with his clothes

and boots all on, for he said if he died he wanted to die in full dress.

Another day and some thought they could see trees on the mountains ahead

of them, and this renewed their courage greatly. In the middle of the

day they suffered greatly with the heat and the dry air seemed to drink

up every bit of moisture from everybody. When they killed an ox they

saved the blood and ate it. The intestines, cleaned with the fingers,

made food when roasted on the fire, and pieces of hide, singed and

roasted, helped to sustain life. The water was nearly all gone. Only

power of will and strength of body had kept any. Capt. Asa Haines sat

down one day and said he could go no farther, but his comrade, L.D.

Stephens, who had kept a little rice, a little tea, and a dry crust of

bread for time of need, took a little water in a cup and made some soup

which he forced his friend to eat and soon he revived and was able to

move on again. That was true friendship.

The next night Stevens himself awoke and seemed perishing with thirst.

He crawled over to Doty's bed and begged for just one sup of water, Doty

in the goodness of his heart, took his canteen from under his head

divided the last few drops with him and the death which threatened him

was held off. Capt. Doty found it necessary to talk very seriously to

those who mourned and talked of failing. He never gave up in the least.

He encouraged all to make every step they could and know no such word as

fail. When they said that death would be easier than life, he told them

so, but that life was possible if they only willed it, and a better life

than had been theirs. And so he kept them encouraged and kept them

putting one foot before the other, pointing out the ever lessening

distance to the mountain before them. He appealed to their manhood. "Be

men," said he, "Be brave and courageous, and you have more strength than

you believe." Thus by example and words he proved to be a true captain

to his little band.

Their water was all gone, every drop, and still the foot-hills seemed

far away. The supply of meat ran out. Tom Shannon killed an ox, and when

those who had cattle had taken some, the others who had none were told

to divide the rest. There was no water to dress or cook it, but it

helped to sustain life. Entrails, bones, sinews, bits of hide and

everything was used. One man was seen with an ox horn, burning the end

in the fire and gnawing away at the softened portion. It was something

terrible to see human beings eating what the dogs would cast aside. One

man saw some moist looking earth on the shady side of a bunch of brush

and he dug down and got a handful of it, from which he tried to suck the

moisture. He failed, and the bad taste of the earth made him suffer more

than before. Many bones of horses and cattle now appeared along the

trail. They seemed to have been there a long time, and some were partly

decayed. On this waterless stretch one of their number, a Frenchman,

wandered off, searching for water in little hollows or puddles, and

never came back to camp. He was supposed to be dead, but ten years

afterward some surveyors found him in a Digger Indian camp.

An idea how selfish men will get under such circumstances may be gained

by relating that on one occasion when an ox was killed the liver was

carried to the brave little Mrs. Brier for herself and children, and she

laid it aside for a few moments till she could attend to some other

duties before cooking it. Darkness coming on meanwhile, some

unprincipled, ungallant thief stole it, and only bits of offal and

almost uneatable pieces were left to sustain their lives. That any one

could steal the last morsel from a woman and her children surpasses

belief, but yet it was plain that there was at least one man in the

party who could do it. No one can fully understand or describe such

scenes as this unless he has looked into just such hungry looking,

haggard eyes and faces, a mixture of determination and despair, the

human expression almost vanishing, and the face of a starving wolf or

jackal taking its place, There are no words to paint such a state of

things to him who has never seen and known.

But there were true men, true, charitable hearts in that little band.

Though death stared them in the face they never forgot their fellow men.

As they slowly crawled along many would wander here and there beside the

trail and fall behind, especially the weaker ones, and many were the

predictions that such and such a one would never come up again, or reach

the camp. Then it was that these noble souls, tired almost beyond

recovery themselves, would take water and go back to seek the wandering

ones and give them drink and help them on. More than one would thus have

perished in the sands but for the little canteen of water carried back

by some friend. Only a swallow or two would often revive their failing

strength and courage, and with slow step they would move on again. How

much good a crust of bread would have done such a poor creature. Bread

there was none--nothing but the flesh of their poor oxen, wasted and

consumed by days of travel and lack of food till it had no goodness in

it. Even the poor oxen, every night seemed to be the end of their

walking; every morning it was feared that that would be the last time

they would be able to rise upon their feet.

Already five or six days had passed since they left the camp at the

willows where they had their last supply of water, and still they were

on the desert. The journey was longer than they had expected, partly

owing to the slow progress they had made for there were frequent stops

to rest or they could not move at all. The mountains seemed nearer every

day, and the trees were outlined more plainly each morning as they

started out. Capt. Doty used every circumstance to encourage them. He

would remark upon the favorable signs of water in the hills before them,

and the hope that there might be some game to provide better meat than

that of starving oxen. Thus he renewed their hope and kept alive their

courage. He must have had a great deal of fortitude to hide his own sad

feelings, for they must as surely have come to him as to any one, and to

keep up always an air of hope, courage, and determination to succeed. If

he had been a man of less spirit and good judgment it is very probable

that many more would have been left by the wayside to die.

About this point the trail which had been growing fainter and fainter,

seemed to vanish entirely. One could move in almost any direction to

right or left as he chose, and because of this, previous travel had

doubtless scattered and thus left no trail. It was thought best that

this company should spread out and approach the mountains in as broad a

front as possible so as to multiply the chances of finding water, and so

they started out in pairs, some to the right and some to the left, each

selecting the point where water seemed most probable.

Tom Shannon and a companion were one of these pairs. Tom was one of the

few who still stuck to his gun, for he felt that it might save his life

sometime. He and his companion separated about a mile, each looking at

all points that showed the least sign of water. Suddenly a jack rabbit

started from a bush, the first game Shannon had seen for more than a

month. He pulled the rifle on him as he was making some big bound and

had the good luck to nearly split his head open. Rushing up to his game

he put his mouth to the wound and sucked the warm blood as it flowed,

for it was the first liquid he had seen; but instead of allaying his

fearful thirst it seemed to make it worse and he seemed delirious. A

little way up the gulch he saw a rock and a green bush and steered for

it, but found no water. He sat down with his back to the rock, his rifle

leaning up near by, pulled his old worn hat over his eyes, and suffered

an agony of sickness. He realized that life was leaving his body, and

there he sat with no power to move and no desire to make an effort. It

seemed as if he could see plain before him all the trail from where he

sat, back over all the deserts, mountains and rivers to the old place in

Illinois. He entirely forgot the present, and seemed unconscious of

everything but the pictures of the past. The mind seemed growing freer

from its attachment to the body and at liberty to take in his whole past

life, and bright scenes that had gone before. How long he sat thus he

knows not. His companion was fortunate in finding water, and when he had

refreshed himself he set out to find poor Tom of whom he could see

nothing. Going toward where he heard the shot he followed on till he saw

him at the rock, almost doubled up, with his face concealed by his hat.

"O! Tom!" said he, but there came no answering motion, and going nearer

he called again and still no answer and no sign. Poor Tom had surely

passed on to the better land, thought he, and salvation was so near. He

approached and lifted the hat rim. There was a movement of the eyes, a

quivering of the muscles of the face, and a sort of semi-unconscious

stare such as precedes approaching dissolution.

Quickly holding back his head he poured water between his lips from his

canteen and it was swallowed. Then a little more, and then some more,

and life seemed coming back again into a troublesome world, bringing

pain with it, and the consciousness of a suffering body. After a time he

felt better and was helped to his feet, and together they went to the

water hole where they made a fire and cooked the rabbit which was the

first savory meat they had tasted for a long time. Tom felt better and

told his companion how he felt after tasting the warm rabbit's blood,

and how he had nearly gone off into the sleep of death.

"If you had been a little longer finding me," said Tom, "I should soon

have been out of this sad world." They fired a signal gun, looked down

at the bones of the rabbit, drank more water, and gradually felt new

life coming to them. The mountains seemed more fertile, and there was

brush and grass near by, timber farther up, and still higher a cap of

snow extending far along the range, both north and south. Towards night

on this eventful day the scattered travelers began to come slowly into

camp attracted by the guns and the smoke of the fire made by those who

first found the water. Some were nearly as far gone as Tom Shannon was,

and great caution had to used in giving them water on their empty

stomach. One man named Robinson became so weak before he got near camp

that his companions placed him on the back of one of the animals and a

man walked on either side to catch him if he fell off. When they got

within a mile of the water he insisted that he was strong enough to take

care of himself and not be watched every minute, and they relaxed their

vigilance. He soon fell off, and when they went to him he refused to be

put back on the animal again or to walk any farther. "Just spread my

blankets down," said he, "and I will lie down and rest a little and

after a while I will come along into camp." So they left him and pushed

on to water, and when they were a little refreshed went back to him with

water, and to help him to come in, but when they came to him they found

him dead. He did not seem to have moved after he had lain down. He did

not seem so bad off as Shannon was when he lay down, and probably a few

swallows of water at that time would have saved his life. It seemed sad

indeed, after so much suffering and striving to get along, that he

should die within a mile of water that would have saved his life. If he

had possessed a little more strength so that the spark of life could

have remained a little longer, the cooling moisture from the canteen

would have revived it, and a little rest would have placed him on his

feet again. They had no tools to dig a grave, not even a knife for they

had left every weight in camp, so they covered him closely in his

blankets and sadly returned to their friends. They had all along hoped

that the Frenchman who had wandered away would come in, but he never

came. There were several water holes scattered around at this point

which seemed to be a sort of sunken place in the hills, and quite large

brush could be obtained for fire, and grass for the oxen. Those who had

been good hunters and had thrown away their rifles as useless burdens,

now began to look at hills before them and think that game might be

found in them, as well as water. There were only one or two guns in the

whole party, They thought that this must surely be the edge of the great

desert they had crossed, and only the snow range before them could be

the obstacle that separated them from Los Angeles.

One day from here would bring them to the edge of the snow, and they

debated as to the best course to pursue. Some of them were fearful they

could not cross the snow with the oxen, for it seemed to be quite deep.

The best place to cross seemed directly west of them. South was a higher

peak, and to the north it was surely impassible. There seemed to be a

faint sign of a trail from this point towards the lowest point in the

snow mountains. There were some bones of cattle around the springs which

they thought was an indication that in years gone by there had been some

traveling on this trail. There surely would be water in the snow which

could be got by melting it, and on the whole it seemed best to make the

attempt to cross at the lowest place. There were no signs of travel

except the trail which had not been used in years, not signs of

civilization except the bones.

Starting from the water holes which showed no signs of having been used

for several years, their next camp was, as they had calculated, on the

edge of the snow where they found plenty of dry juniper trees for fire.

and of course plenty of water. Here they killed an ox and fed the hungry

so that they were pretty well refreshed. This was an elevated place and

they could look back over the trail across the desert for, what seemed

to them, a hundred miles, and the great dangers of their journey were

discussed. Said one of them to Tom Shannon:--"Tom, you killed the first

game we have come across in two months. Even the buzzards and coyotes

knew better than to go out in into the country where the cursed Mormon

saint sent us numbskulls." Another said that while they had been seeking

a heaven on earth they had passed through purgatory, or perhaps a worse

place still nearer the one from which sulphurous fumes arise, and now

they hoped that there might be a somewhat more heavenly place beyond the

snow. One who had been silent seemed awakened by inspiration and spoke

in impromptu lines somewhat as follows, as he pointed out to the dim

distance:--

"Yonder in mountains' gray beauty,

Wealth and fame decay.

Yonder, the sands of the desert,

Yonder, the salt of the sea,

Yonder, a fiery furnace,

Yonder, the bones of our friends,

Yonder the old and the young

Lie scattered along the way."

Some even confessed the desperate thoughts that had come to their minds

when they were choking and starving. We have mentioned four of the train

who had perished beside the trail and it will be remembered that one

party of eleven started out on foot before the wagons were abandoned by

the rest of the party. Nothing was heard of these for seven years, but

long afterward nine skeletons were found at the remains of a camp, and

the other two were afterward seen in the gold fields. When spoken to

about this party, they burst into tears and could not talk of it. So it

is known that at least thirteen men perished in the country which has

well been named Death Valley.

People who have always been well fed, and have never suffered from

thirst till every drop of moisture seemed gone from the body, so they

dare not open their mouth lest they dry up and cease to breathe, can

never understand, nor is there language to convey the horrors of such a

situation. The story of these parties may seem like fairy fables, but to

those who experienced it all, the strongest statements come far short of

the reality. No one could believe how some men, when they are starving

take on the wild aspect of savage beasts, and that one could never feel

safe in their presence. Some proved true and kind and charitable even

with death staring them in the face, and never forgot their fellow men.

Some that seemed weakest proved strongest in the final struggle for

existence.

Early next morning before the sun rose they started to cross the snow,

leaving their comrade Robinson behind, rolled up in his blankets, taking

his everlasting sleep so far as the troubles of this world are

concerned. What the day would bring forth very few could have any idea.

Go on they must, and this direction seemed most promising. If the snow

should prove hard enough to hold up the oxen they could probably cross

before night, but if compelled to camp in the snow it was a doubtful

case for them.

The snow held them as they advanced on it, but grew a little softer as

the sun got higher. The tracks of both men and animals were stained with

blood from their worn-out feet. When they turned the summit they found

more timber and the ravine they followed was so shaded that the force of

the sun was broken, and they really did not suffer very much from

slumping through the snow, and so got safely over. Not far below the

snow they found a running brook of clear, sweet water, with willows

along the banks and trees on the hills, the first really good water for

a month or two. This is the same camp where Rogers and his companion ate

their meal of quail, hawk and crow a few days before, and these

travelers knew by the remains of the little camp fire that they were

following on the trail of the two men who had gone before.

This place was so great an improvement on the camps of the past that all

hands began to talk and act more rational as hope dawned more brightly

on them. Those who had guns branched off to search for game, but found

they were too weak for that kind of work, and had to sit down very often

to rest. When they tried to run they stumbled down and made very poor

progress.

Capt. Doty, Tom Shannon and Bill Rude sat down to rest on a bold point

above the creek. While there three wild horses came along within easy

range, and thinking they would form better meat than the oxen each man

picked his animal and all fired simultaneously, bringing them all to the

ground. This seemed a piece of glorious luck, and all rushed in like

wolves lifter a wounded animal. It was not very long before each had a

chunk of meat in his hand, and many a one did not stop from eating

because it was not cooked. Such declared they never ate anything so

delicious in all their lives before, and wondered why horses were not

used as food instead of hogs and cattle. As they satisfied their

ravenous appetites they ate more like beasts than like men, so nearly

were they starved, and so nearly had their starving condition made them

fall from their lofty estate.

As they passed on down this cañon they found it very brushy and on the

dry leaves under the wide-spreading trees they saw signs of bear and

perhaps other animals. There were some swampy places where it was

grassy, and into these the cattle rushed with great eagerness for the

food they had so long suffered for. Some of Mr. Brier's cattle went in,

and in tramping around for food sank deep into the mud and could not be

coaxed out again. Mrs. Brier threw clubs at them but they did not seem

inclined to pay much attention to her attacks so she was forced to go in

after them herself, and in so doing also sank into the mud and could not

get out without assistance. All this time her reverend husband sat

outside on the hard ground at a safe distance, but did not offer any

help. Probably if an extended and learned lecture on the effects of

gravitation would have done any good he would have been ready with

prompt and extended service to one whom he had promised to love and

cherish.

About this time L.D. Stevens came along and seeing the condition of the

unfortunate woman, at once went to her assistance and helped her to dry

land. Brier himself never made a move nor said a word. Stevens looked

terribly cross at him and remarked to his companions that if the

preacher himself had been the one stuck in the mud he would have been

quite inclined to leave him there for all of helping him.

The cañon grew narrow as they descended, and the brush thicker, so that

to follow the bed of the stream was the only way to get along. The

cattle seemed to scent a bear and stampeded in terror through the brush

in various directions, all except one which was being led by a rope.

They tried to follow the animals in a desperate effort to recover them

and a few blankets they had upon their backs, but could only make slow

progress. Tom Shannon and two others found a fresh bear track and

determined to follow it awhile in the hope of having revenge on the

cause of their mishap with the oxen. They took their blankets and kept

the trail till night when they camped, but were at so great an elevation

that a snowstorm came with six inches of snow so they could no longer

follow the track.

They were very hungry and on the way back came across some wild cherries

which had dried perfectly dry as they hung on the bushes. These they

picked and ate, cracking the seeds with their teeth, and declaring them

to be the best of fruit. Good appetites made almost anything taste good

then. They got back to the creek next day pretty nearly starved, and

with neither a bear nor runaway oxen to reward them for their two days'

hard work.

Wood and water were plenty, but grass was scarce and their ox had to

live on brush and leaves, but this was infinitely better than the

stunted and bitter shrubs of the desert. They came out of the brush at

last into the open bottom land where the brook sank out of sight in the

sand, and sage brush appeared all about. From this on, over the elevated

point which projected out nearly across the valley, their experience and

emotions in coming in sight of vast herds of cattle feeding on rolling

grassy hills, or reclining under great oak trees scattered over the more

level lands, were much the same as came to the Author and his party when

the same scene was suddenly opened to them. Signs of civilization and of

plenty so suddenly appearing after so many weeks of suffering and

desolation was almost enough to turn their heads, and more than one of

the stout-hearted pioneers shed tears of joy. Only a few days before and

they could scarcely have believed it possible to find a spot so lovely.

But to hungry, more than half starved men, points of artistic beauty and

sober reflections over the terrors of the past found little place, and

their first thought was to satisfy the cravings of hunger which were

assuredly none the less when they beheld the numerous fat cattle all

around them. There was no one to ask or to buy from and to kill and eat

without permission might be wrong and might get them into difficulty,

but one might as well ask a starving wolf to get permission to slay and

eat when a fat lamb came across his path as to expect these men to take

very much time to hunt up owners. When life or death are the questions

that present themselves men are not so apt to discuss the right or wrong

of any matter.

Tom Shannon and a couple of others did not wait long at any rate, but

crawled down the creek bed till they were opposite a few fine animals

and then crept up the bank very near to them. Two or three shots rang

out and as many fine cattle were brought down. The live cattle ran away

and the hungry men soon had the field to themselves. Much quicker than

can be told the men had fat pieces of meat in their hands which they

devoured without cooking. The men acted like crazy creatures at a

barbacue--each one cut for himself with very little respect for anyone.

The boldest got in first and the more retiring came in later, but all

had enough and gradually resumed more human actions and appearance.

They had hardly finished their bloody feast when they saw a small squad

of men on horseback advancing toward them, and as they came near it was

quite plain that they were all armed in some way. All had lassoes at

their saddles, some had old-fashioned blunderbusses, and nearly every

one had a _macheta_ or long bladed Spanish knife. As the horsemen drew

near they formed into something like military order and advanced slowly

and carefully. It was pretty evident they thought they were about to

encounter a band of thieving Indians, but as they came closer they

recognized the strangers as Americans and passed the compliments with

them in a rather friendly manner.

Some of the Jayhawkers had been in the Mexican War and understood a few

words of Spanish, and by a liberal use of signs were able to communicate

with the armed party and tell them who they were, where they were going,

and the unfortunate condition in which they found themselves. The men

did not seem angry at losing so few of their cattle, and doubtless

considered themselves fortunate in not suffering to the extent of some

hundreds as they did sometimes by Indian raids, and invited the whole

party down to the ranch house of the San Francisquito Rancho of which

this was a part. Arrived at the house the ranch men brought in a good

fat steer which they killed and told the poor Americans to help

themselves and be welcome. This was on the fourth day of February, 1850.

The whole party remained here to rest themselves and their oxen for

several days, and were royally entertained by the people at the ranch.

They talked over the plans for the future, and considered the best

course to pursue. They thought it would be wise to keep their oxen for

these would now improve in flesh, and as they had no money with which to

buy food they might still rely on them in further travels. The best oxen

had survived, for the failing ones were selected to be killed when they

were forced to have food. The weaker of their comrades had perished in

the desert, and the remainder of the train consisted of the strongest

men and the strongest oxen, and there seemed to be no question but that

they could all live in this country where grass and water were both

abundant, and every sign of more or less wild game.

Those of the company who had no cattle made their way directly to Los

Angeles, and from thence to the coast from which most of them reached

San Francisco by sailing vessel. Those who had no money were given a

passage on credit, and it is believed that all such debts were

afterwards honestly paid.

Capt. Doty made a proposition to buy out the oxen of some who had only

one or two, giving his note for them payable in San Francisco or

anywhere up north they might chance to meet, and many of them accepted

and went to the coast. In this way Doty secured oxen enough to supply

one for each of those who decided to go with him. They decided to use

them for pack animals to carry their blankets, and to proceed slowly

toward the mines, killing game, if possible, and permitting their

animals to graze and improve in condition as they moved.

There must have been from twenty-five to forty people gathered at the

ranch. Among them was the Rev. J.W. Brier who seemed to want to impress

it on the new California friends that he was the man of all others to be

honored. The ranchman was a good Catholic, and Brier tried to make him

understand that he, also, was very devout. He said, and repeated to him

very often--"Me preacher," but he did not succeed very well in

impressing the good Californian with the dignity of his profession, for

he could talk no Spanish and was not highly gifted in sign language.

When they went away they had no way to reward their good friends who had

been friends indeed to them. They could only look their thanks and

express themselves in a very few words of Spanish. "_Adios Amigos_,"

said they to the scantily clothed travelers as they set out on their way

to the mines.

They followed down the course of the river that flowed through the

valley, the Santa Clara River, and knew that it would take them to the

sea at last. Before they reached the mission of San Buena Ventura, near

the sea, they ran out of meat again, for they had failed to find game as

they had expected, and Capt. Asa Haynes took the chances of killing a

Spanish cow that looked nice and fat. They camped around the carcass and

ate, and smoked the meat that was left. While thus engaged two horsemen

approached, and after taking a good look at the proceedings, galloped

off again. When the party arrived at the Mission they were arrested and

taken before the alcalde to give an account of their misdeeds. They

realized that they were now in a bad fix, and either horn of the dilemma

was bad enough. They could not talk Spanish; they had no money; they had

killed somebody's cow; they were very hungry; they might be willing to

pay, but had no way of doing it; they did not want to languish in jail,

and how to get out of it they could not understand. Luck came to them,

however, in the shape of a man who could speak both English and Spanish,

to whom they told their story and who repeated it to the alcalde,

telling him of their misfortunes and unfortunate condition, and when

that officer found out all the circumstances he promptly released them

as he did not consider them as criminals. The cow was probably worth no

more than ten dollars.

At Santa Barbara they found a chance to trade off some of their oxen for

mares, which were not considered worth much, and managed the barter so

well that they came out with a horse apiece and a few dollars besides,

with which to buy grub along the road. They depended mostly on their

guns for supplying them with food. They supposed they were about three

hundred miles from San Francisco, and expected to meet with but few

people except at the Missions, of which they had learned there were a

few along the road. At these there was not much to be had except dried

beef. However, they managed to use the guns with fair success, and at

last arrived safely at Stockton where they sold some of their horses for

more than double what they cost, and with a small number of horses they

packed on to the gold mines.

Those of the party who went to Los Angeles managed in one way or another

to get through on schooners, and many of them, after a year or two of

hard work, made some money and returned to their homes in Illinois. It

is hardly necessary to add that they did not return via Death Valley.

Some years afterward the members of this party who had returned to their

Eastern homes formed themselves into an organization which they called

the Jayhawkers' Union, appointed a chairman and secretary, and each year

every one whose name and residence could be obtained was notified to be

present at some designated place on the fourth day of February which was

the date on which they considered they passed from impending death into

a richly promising life. They always had as good a dinner as Illinois

could produce, cooked by the wives and daughters of the pioneers, and

the old tales were told over again.

One part of the program was the calling of the roll, and such reports

and letters as had come to hand. The following is a list of the members

of the party so far as can be ascertained, as gathered from

recollections and from the reports of the meetings of the reunions.

LIST OF JAYHAWKERS.

The following named were living, so far as known, in 1893:--John B.

Colton and Alonzo C. Clay, of Galesburg, Ill., Luther A. Richards, of

Woodhull, Ill., Chas. B. Mecum, of Ripley, Iowa, John W. Plummer, of

Tulon, Ill., Edward Bartholomew, Urban P. Davidson, John Crosscup and L.

Dow Stephens, of San Jose, California, Harrison Frans and Thomas

Shannon, of Los Gatos, Cal., J.W. Brier and wife, Lodi, Cal., three

children of Mr. Brier.

The following are supposed to be dead:--Ann Haines, Knoxville, Ill.,

Sidney P. Edgerton, formerly of Blair, Nebraska, Thomas McGrew, John

Cole, Wm. B. Rude, Wm. Robinson and Alex. Palmer, of Knoxville, Ill.,

Marshall B. Edgerton, late of Galesburg, Ill. Wm. Ischam, of Rochester,

N.Y., Mr. ---- Fish, of Oskaloosa, Iowa, John L. West, Aaron Larkin,

Capt. Edwin Doty and Brien Byram, of Knoxville, Ill., Mr. ---- Carter,

of Wisconsin, Geo. Allen, Leander Woolsey and Chas. Clark, of Henderson,

Ill., Mr. ---- Gretzinger, of Oskaloosa, Iowa, and a Frenchman whose

name is unknown.

There were some others connected more or less with the party at some

part of the trip, but not coming in with the Jayhawker organization. So

far as learned, their names are as follows:--John Galler, Jim Woods and

Jim Martin of Miss., Ed Croker of N.Y., David Funk, Mr. Town, Henry

Wade, wife and three children, Nat Ward, John D. Martin, of Texas, Old

Francis, a Frenchman, Fred Carr and Negro "Joe," from Miss.

There were a great many reports about finding rich mines about this

time, and these stories have been magnified and told in all sorts of

ways since then, and parties have returned to try to find the great

riches.

Among the Jayhawkers were two Germans who could speak but little English

and probably for this reason, kept apart from the remainder of the

party.

One day, after the wagons were abandoned these German fellows were

marching along alone with their packs on their backs in the warm sun,

suffering very much for want of water and food, when one of them sat

down on a hill-side in pretty nearly absolute despair, while the other

man went down into a ravine hoping to find a puddle of water in the

rocky bottom somewhere, though it was almost a forlorn hope. All at once

he called out to his partner on the hill--"John, come down here and get

some of this gold. There is a lot of it." To this poor John Galler only

replied:--"No, I won't come. I don't want any gold, but I would like

very much to have some water and some bread." And so they left the

valuable find and slowly walked on, pulling through at last with the

rest of them, and reaching Los Angeles.

The man who found the gold went to the Mission of San Luis Rey and

started a small clothing store, and some time afterward was killed. John

Galler settled in Los Angeles and established a wagon shop in which he

did a successful business. He was an honest, industrious man and the

people had great confidence in him. He often told them about what his

partner had said about finding the gold in the desert, and the people

gave him an outfit on two or three occasions to go back and re-locate

the find, but he did not seem to have much idea of location, and when he

got back into the desert again things looked so different to him that he

was not able to identify the place, or to be really certain they were on

the same trail where his companion found the gold.

The Author saw him in 1862 and heard what he had to say about it, and is

convinced that it was not gold at all which they saw. I told him that I

more than suspected that what he saw was mica instead of gold and that

both he and his partner had been deceived, for more than one man not

used to gold had been deceived before now. "No sir!" said he, "I saw

lots of gold in Germany, and when I saw that I knew what it was." The

Author went back over that trail in 1862 and sought out the German on

purpose to get information about the gold. He could not give the name of

a single man who was in the party at that time, but insisted that it was

gold he saw and that he knew the trail.

The Author was able to identify with reasonable certainty the trails

followed by the different parties, but found no signs of gold formation

except some barren quartz, and this after an experience of several years

in both placer and quartz mines. So honest John Galler's famous placer

mine still remains in the great list of lost mines, like the Gunsight

Lead and other noted mines for which men have since prospected in vain.