ADVENTURES OF AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE
It was long after the time of which we are writing that Conan Doyle led
his readers into some of the secrets of detecting crime by the
observance of circumstances devoid of significance to the ordinary
searcher for clues. It is also true that the legal devices by which the
guilty are now-a-days generally enabled to escape punishment had not
been brought to their present high state of perfection.
In the corral in Salt Lake City where our wagons and stock were
temporarily cared for, there were also other outfits having drivers
concerning whose character our captain had little knowledge, but the
conduct and general appearance of some of them led him to believe that
they were not quite incapable of disregarding on occasion the artificial
distinction between mine and thine.
One morning three mule trains said to be bound for Montana pulled out
from the corral, and on the same day it was discovered that several
articles were missing from our wagons. This interesting synchronism led
our men generally to believe that our property had accompanied one of
those trains, which were soon beyond the jurisdiction of Salt Lake
officers. A Sherlock Holmes might have discerned some further hint
pointing to the authors of the larceny, but we could find none. We
decided to rely upon general suspicion as sufficient ground for action
and to proceed accordingly.
In the Western territories, and especially outside any of the few
settlements, according to the unwritten law, horse stealing was treated
as a capital offense. Therefore, if it had been a horse that was stolen
from us, a _posse comitatus_ would doubtless have been at once put upon
the trail, fully equipped to execute the conventional punishment, but
the saddles, bridles, and blankets that formed a portion of our loss,
though equine accoutrements and exceeding in value an average horse,
still left the crime in the rank of mild offenses, along with other
misdemeanors forbidden by the decalogue. For some reason that no one
could ever even guess, it was urged that I, even I, should pursue the
trains and ascertain, if possible, if the stuff was under their care. I
consented, perhaps foolishly, to make the venture. A search warrant was
secured, which purported to invest me with authority to detain and
examine the trains in question, in other words assigning to me the
duties of deputy sheriff or detective, I hardly knew which; but I was
well aware of the fact that the instrument given me really had no legal
force beyond the city limits, and I doubted if it had much value
anywhere, but it was quite a good-looking and impressive piece of paper,
and with it I started very early the next morning for the North.
As my duties had seldom brought me to the corral, I expected to be a
stranger to all the freighters whom I was pursuing, but had seen enough
of them on one brief visit to be convinced that among them were a number
of tough characters, yet I saw no reason why, as an officer of the law,
I should not receive permission to examine the wagons, if the wagon
master himself should be innocent.
It was sometime after noon when a mule train was observed in the
distance, and on reaching it I learned from one of the drivers that the
name of the owners was upon the search warrant. The captain of the
train, on horseback in the lead, stopped as requested, and the paper
was read to him. After a little consideration the captain said "Do you
intend, young man, to stop my train here and go through all these
wagons?" I replied, "That is what I came all the way from Salt Lake City
to do," but I would be as expeditious as possible and desired his
personal assistance. "Well," he replied, "if there is any stolen
property in this outfit I don't know it, but suppose you can look
through the wagons." He ordered the train to halt. Calling an assistant,
he said, "Hold this officer's horse." Accompanying me to the head wagon
I made as thorough a search there as possible, repeating the process
through each wagon, the captain, who appeared to be a fair man, keeping
in close company. Some of the men seemed somewhat averse to an
examination of their private effects under such peculiar circumstances,
but a regard for the dignity of the law, and the presence of the captain
of the train who had assented to the search, doubtless prevented any
serious opposition.
Having completed the examination which required little more than an
hour, and thanking the captain for his assistance, I announced that the
property did not appear to be in the possession of any of his men and
that all was satisfactory.
By proceeding again more rapidly, another train was reached quite late
in the afternoon, and a thorough search was made through the merchandise
in each wagon, all of which was accomplished without serious opposition,
but none of the missing property was found. It was evident that the
third train could not be overtaken and searched that evening, but I
pressed on Northward and darkness came on quite early.
At the right near by to the East, the Wasatch range of mountains
paralleled the old Montana road and the shore of Great Salt Lake, which
lay to the West. Snow storms had been falling in the mountains for
several days, and the white mantle extended well out over the foothills
and upon the higher slopes of the valley through which the road led. The
night was chilly, and I hastened on rapidly, hoping soon to find some
cabin in which to spend the night, but for many miles no habitation was
visible. The road traversed a long stretch of arid land, which then
offered no attraction to a settler, although it is now well cultivated.
It had become quite dark and from the direction of the mountains there
came the frequent yelping of wolves. This brought to mind the
information that had come to Captain Whitmore the preceding day, that a
herd of our cattle which had been pasturing in the mountains had since
the first snowfall been stampeded by wolves and driven for many miles.
Four of the oxen had been bitten by the sharp teeth of the pursuing
wolves until they were unable to go further. The term used by the
herders in these cases is that the cattle were "hamstrung," the tendons
of the legs being severed. One of the weaker oxen was killed and partly
eaten before the herders were able to come to the rescue. It was evident
that the wolves were now becoming hungry and were coming down to the
lower land away from the snow for food. For a time I gave little
attention to the howling, as it was not unusual in many parts of the
West, but as I jogged along I observed that the noises were becoming
much more distinct and continuous, and it soon became evident that the
wolves were gathering in considerable numbers and were following
closely. My horse was becoming disturbed and started off at good speed,
but the wolves had no difficulty in keeping the pace. I had with me two
Colt revolvers, one in the holster of the saddle and one in my belt.
The principal danger was that if the wolves came nearer, they might nip
the legs of the horse and cripple him. It was impossible to see them
distinctly, but on catching the first outline of their forms a few feet
behind the horse I issued a warning in the form of a flash from the
pistol and a bullet to suggest that some of them were liable to get
hurt. Their noises were then so frequent that I was not certain if one
had been hit. Startled somewhat perhaps by the report of the pistol,
they dropped back for a moment but again renewed the chase and continued
their disagreeable yelps. It appeared evident that the safest plan was
to keep going. My horse seemed fully to concur in this opinion. The
ammunition must be used only in emergencies, when the persistent
creatures crowded too close on the horse's heels. The firing was
repeated a number of times as they closed in upon me. The chase was
continued for several miles, until the pursuers, which may have scented
some accessible carrion, after one of the pistol shots abandoned the
chase to the eminent satisfaction of both horse and rider.
It was nearly nine o'clock when there appeared the welcome light of a
candle shining through the little window of a cabin on the west side of
the road. To my call from outside the gate, as I rode up, a man soon
answered by coming to the door. Having announced the fact I had
suspected for several hours, that I was very hungry and that my horse
must be in a similar condition, I asked permission to enjoy the
hospitalities of his cabin for the night, to which he promptly replied,
"Sartain! you go right in, and wife will get you some supper, and I'll
take care of your horse," which by that time I had led through the gate.
Turning to the woman who stood near him, and who had been an interested
observer, he asked her to prepare a supper. While this work was
proceeding in the room where I was sitting by the fire, I quietly and
expectantly enjoyed the fragrance of coffee and fried bacon. I was about
to take seat at the table, when the head of the household again entered
and reported that he had waited a little for the horse to cool off, and
then had watered and fed him. As I was transferring the first slices of
bacon to my plate, the gentleman opened the conversation by the
question, "Where are you from?"
"I just came up from Salt Lake City to-day. I left there this morning.
Your wife tells me that your name is Childs," I added, and then gave him
my name.
"Yes," he replied, "my name is Childs, but I presumed that you were from
the States. Is Salt Lake your home?"
"No. I have spent three or four months there. My home is in Wisconsin."
"I had a brother once who lived in Wisconsin," said Mr. Childs.
"Oh, yes. I know him very well."
"You know him?" exclaimed my host. "Why do you think you know him? I
haven't even told you his name or where he lived."
"His name is John Childs," said I, starting in on a second cup of
coffee.
The man and his wife gazed at each other with expressions of surprise.
The fact was that I did well know a prominent farmer, an old and
esteemed settler in Wisconsin, whose name was John Childs, and as he was
the only man I did know who bore that family name, I took a flyer in
jest, and it happened to hit the mark.
"Where did the John Childs that you know live?" asked my host. "In
Lima, Wisconsin," was my prompt answer.
"Then he is probably not my brother. My brother went to Whitewater."
"Oh, that's all right," said I, "but you are mistaken in the supposition
that your brother lives in Whitewater. He lives in the town of Lima, but
the villages are only six miles apart. The railroad station is known as
Child's Station."
This statement on my part was not so remarkable as it would appear to
be, because I was familiar with the situation.
"Do you mean to say that he is now living?" asked Mr. Childs, as he drew
very close to me at the table, while his wife also took a seat and
listened intently.
"Living? He was living six months ago and weighs fully 200 pounds. I
know nearly every man in all that country."
Mr. Childs of Utah paused a moment and then said to his wife, "Send over
to the boys to come here at once, and we will wait until they arrive,
for I wish them to hear all about this matter." Turning to me he added,
"I have two brothers who live in the two houses beyond here, and I wish
them to hear all that you will say." I then turned the subject to the
purpose of my trip North. I told him of the lost property and of the
improper conduct of the wolves back in the desert. He then informed me
that one of his brothers was the constable for that township.
The brothers having arrived, Mr. Childs introduced them and then
narrated to them the conversation which had passed between us concerning
their brother, John, to which they listened with profound interest.
Turning to me he said "We all lived in St. Lawrence County, New York.
We three brothers who are here became converted to the Mormon doctrines
while we lived in New York state and soon came to Utah with others of
our faith, but John and other relatives were not reconciled to our
action. John, as we understood, went to Wisconsin and settled in
Whitewater. We wrote him a letter but he never made reply, and since
that time no tidings from him have reached us."
"Your communication doubtless went to the Dead Letter office," said I.
"Although John is well known and is perhaps thirty years older than I
am, a letter addressed to the wrong post-office might not have reached
him if written before he was as well known as he is now. How long is it
since you heard concerning him?"
"About twenty years. We supposed that even if living he was still
unwilling to renew friendly relations with us, and all because of the
fact that he did not agree with us in our religious belief."
Thus had the Scripture been fulfilled, and families and peoples been
divided, all the way down through generations. That evening by the big
open fire was an occasion of great interest. The family was told of
their brother's prosperity and high social position, and that he was a
man of recognized honor. We separated at a late hour, and I retired
leaving the brothers still conversing. In the morning, having learned
that I would soon return to Wisconsin they asked me to send for the
brother on my arrival there and tell him of my meeting with his Mormon
brethren and that the information given might be full and definite they
showed me their farms, stock and harvested grains. Mr. Childs declined
to accept anything for my entertainment.
The sequel of this incident may as well be related here before pursuing
further the events of this horseback ride. Several weeks after spending
the night with the Childs brothers in Utah, and after again reaching
Wisconsin, I addressed a note to John Childs, of Lima, requesting an
interview. The request was promptly granted, the meeting to take place
in a quiet business office with which we were both familiar. Mr. Childs,
who was perhaps the most prosperous and honored man in his neighborhood,
was usually addressed even by many of his younger friends as John, so
that after we had met as arranged, and he had anchored his large frame
in an easy chair, and I was comfortably adjusted in another, I said,
"John, did you not have some brothers back in York state?"
He replied in the single word "Yes," with a rising inflection, as if
about to ask, "Why do you wish to know?" but he did not continue.
"Well, John, do you know what became of them?"
After a little hesitation he told briefly of the belief that prevailed
with other members of the family, that they enlisted for the Mexican
war, but their friends had failed to obtain any definite trace of their
movements and all trace of them was lost in that campaign.
"Could you not secure information concerning them through the records of
the war department?" I asked.
"Nothing definite, except that there was a suspicion at one time that
they might have gone up into Utah, but we tried to locate them, and have
never heard a word from them, or of them, to this day, and I suppose
they were lost in some adventure."
It was evident that while John had not yet told all that he knew of his
brothers, his belief was that they were not living, as he had never
been able to obtain any tidings concerning them. When, however, I
recited the full names of his brothers, also the date and place of their
birth, and some other data of family interest and asked if they fitted
the case, it was then that John Childs awoke to the fact that I had some
information to impart, that might be of interest. Without further delay
I stated to him that all his brothers were living and prosperous. The
word came to him as a voice from the long ago, and was seemingly as
startling and unexpected to him as if coming from another world. I told
him of my night spent with the brothers in Utah, of their story of the
family separation and of their effort to effect a reconcilation by a
letter addressed to the wrong post-office. John stated that he had never
received a line from them, but suspecting that they might be in Utah he
had addressed them at Salt Lake, which was quite natural, though that
city, it appears, was forty miles from their home. That letter also
failed to reach its destination, and all parties believed that the old
bitterness was still alive. The situation was now perfectly clear,
whereupon John at once wrote letters that brought friendly replies as
promptly as the overland stage mail could transmit them, bringing the
first direct word that had passed in twenty years.
As already stated, one of the Childs brothers was constable. In
discussing the matter of my search for stolen property he was emphatic
in his advice that the pursuit of the other train would involve a great
hazard. It was traveling with light loads, evidently going North to
winter on some of those ranges, and before it could be overtaken it
would be outside the limits of Utah. If the property was with it, the
men would certainly resist the intrusion of an unaccompanied searcher,
and an unequal fight would be the result. It was a lonely, wild, and
tough country at best, they all declared, with a "don't try it" as their
final word of admonition.
"All right, fellows," said I, "and possibly you are right. I have seen
some of this country and will return South."
After breakfast and some pleasant farewell words I started on my return
to Salt Lake. Some distance in advance, I noticed a solitary horseman
riding in the same direction I was going. As the country was unsettled,
the prospect of companionship led me to hasten until he was overtaken.
He proved to be a Mormon pioneer, and after some preliminary
conversation as we rode along side by side he informed me that his name
was James S. Brown.
"Are you the James S. Brown who first discovered gold in California, at
Sutter's Mill?" I asked.
"I was there," he replied. "There were James Marshall, H. W. Bigler, and
James Berger who were with me. We had been with the Mormon Battalion
sent to the Mexican war, and having been discharged we came up to
Captain J. A. Sutter's ranch on the American River."
"I have read much of that ranch in John C. Fremont's records," I
replied.
Continuing he said, "We were out of money and needed horses for our
return trip to the Missouri River, therefore we engaged to help Sutter
build a saw mill on the stream at the point where the City of Sacramento
now stands. Sutter went to California from Missouri, and acquired a
principality in size and value, and was the first settler. It was during
that work that in January, 1848, we found gold. It had not been seen
there before. As a fact we brought the first news of the discovery East,
which resulted in the rush of 1849."
Mr. Brown was somewhat above the average in size but at the time of our
meeting was lame as the result of some accident in his early days. His
description of the hardships of his brigade in the Arizona desert, which
through questioning was elicited from him, was thrilling in the highest
degree.
Continuing his story from time to time after occasional digressions he
told of the return of their party over the Sierras Eastward, of their
troubles with the Indians and of other hardships. Although in Mr.
Brown's interesting volume on the _Life of a Pioneer_, written in later
years, he makes no mention of the circumstances, yet he told me that
when his little party had arrived at the north end of Great Salt Lake in
the autumn of 1848, and had determined that it would be much safer to
spend the winter in that valley than to cross the mountains so late in
the season, they were led by friendly Indians to understand that good
forage for their horses could be found at the southern end of the Lake;
whereupon, as he told me, the party traveled the same course that we
were then following, along the western base of the Wasatch Mountains. At
a point several miles north of the present site of Salt Lake City they
unexpectedly met two of their Mormon friends, whom they had neither seen
nor heard from since leaving the Missouri River two years before. They
were informed for the first time that Brigham Young and many Mormons had
crossed the plains and the mountains in the preceding year, and had
erected a stockade and settled at the south end of the lake. One member
of Mr. Brown's party was astounded to learn that his mother, having
crossed with one of the trains, was at that moment but 12 miles away and
that she had driven a yoke of oxen the greater part of that long,
tedious course, a duty made necessary by the heavy burdens which fell
upon others. This was certainly a remarkable revelation to the weary
travelers, who had supposed that they were alone in the middle of the
continent.
Near the close of the day Brown and I reached the ranch of Peregrine
Sessions, a pioneer Mormon and a man conspicuous in Mormon history, from
whom the place was known as Sessions' settlement. As we rode up to the
door, Mr. Brown said to me: "It was right here that we met our Mormon
brothers who informed us concerning the new Salt Lake settlement." It
was arranged that we should spend the night with Mr. Sessions, who
during the evening gave a brief account of the perils and privations to
which they were subjected on their journey and some incidents connected
with the early days in Utah. During our evening's interview Mr. Brown
described his first arrival at Salt Lake settlement, where he and his
party found their friends living in brush sheds and dugouts, a few only
having log cabins, their general condition being most discouraging. Such
was the beginning of Salt Lake City.
We may now recall the fact that the settlement of Salt Lake City by the
Mormons in 1847, and the discovery of gold in California in 1848, were
the prime factors in the awakening of the Far West. Salt Lake Valley was
an alkali desert declared to be absolutely hopeless by the early
trappers and explorers. Its reclamation and cultivation by those
religious exiles made it the only supply point for provisions on the
long road to the newly discovered Sacramento gold fields, and saved many
from starvation, to the profit of all concerned.
Mr. Sessions arrived in Salt Lake Valley in the middle of September,
1847, having conducted a company of fifty wagons, which closely
followed the first train of Mormon pioneers conducted by Brigham Young.
_The Deseret News_ is authority for the statement that "Peregrine
Sessions was the father of fifty-six children,"--a patriarch indeed.
It is true that the graphic yet ingenuously told story related by one of
the discoverers of gold in California, one who carried to the States the
first intelligence of that discovery, gave added interest to the visit
that I soon made to those gold diggings, the fame of which had incited
the first tide of transcontinental migration composed of hardy and
reckless adventurers willing to undergo the trials and perils incident
to such an expedition. These, with the Argonauts who sailed around by
the Isthmus or Cape Horn, were the ones who first roused the latent
energies of our Pacific coast territory.
[Illustration: SUTTER'S FORT BEFORE RESTORATION, SACRAMENTO. CALIF.
SITUATED NEAR THE PLACE WHERE GOLD WAS FIRST DISCOVERED IN CALIFORNIA]
There were a very few, however, who were attracted not by gold but by
admiration for the sublime and beautiful in nature, especially through
companionship with the noble trees and towering cliffs of the Sierras;
and these men aided in revealing to the world the previously unwritten
history of these formations. Among them were John Muir, the shepherd,
naturalist, and author, and Galen Clark, the pioneer and discoverer of
the Mariposa Grove. I appreciated Galen Clark's homage for nature when,
after spending a night at his cabin, built in 1857, he personally led me
among those monarchs of the forest, stating the heights of various
trees, and for my satisfaction assisted in measuring the trunks of many;
one of them was 101 feet in circumference. He referred to them in
affectionate terms, expressing the hope that they might be spared from
the lumberman's axe.
It was still later when I first visited Muir's haunts in the Yosemite;
George Anderson, a Scotch ship-carpenter, had spent the summer in
drilling holes into the granite face of the upper cliff of the great
South Dome, driving in it iron pins with ropes attached. Two or three
persons were tempted to scale with the aid of these ropes the heights,
which are nearly a perpendicular mile above the valley. I, too, was
inclined to make the venture. I proceeded in advance, followed by
Anderson, who had in tow a young San Franciscan with a connecting rope
around the young man's waist. It was a dizzy but inspiring ascent and I
was pleased to reach the top twenty minutes in advance of my pursuers.
While spending an hour upon the summit, I discovered on its barren
surface, a lady's bracelet. On showing it to Anderson, he said: "You are
the third party who has made this ascent. I pulled up a young woman
recently but she never mentioned any loss except from nausea." Returning
to Merced, I observed a vigorous young woman wearing a bracelet similar
to the one I had found. The lady proved to be Miss Sally Dutcher of San
Francisco, who admitted the loss and thankfully accepted the missing
ornament. A letter to me from Galen Clark states that he assisted in
Miss Dutcher's ascent, Anderson preceding with a rope around his waist
connecting with Miss Dutcher; also that she was certainly the first and
possibly the last woman who made the ascent. These ascents are now
forbidden, but the natural attractions of the State of California have
drawn to it a vast revenue from transient nature lovers.
But to return to the hospitable home in Utah.
After spending the night with Mr. Sessions and his varied household, Mr.
Brown and I on the following morning proceeded on our way to the City.
Experienced detectives have spent years in their efforts to apprehend a
single criminal and then failed; moreover a discreet officer will
sometimes avoid being shot, as that is a high price to pay for success.
Experts sometimes accomplish no more and have a less enjoyable ride than
I did; and being but a novice I had no grounds for regret. Cool
reflection convinced us all that the lost property was of little value
and not worth bringing back at best, while some optimists maintained
that it was really very good riddance.