FACE TO FACE WITH A BAND OF APACHES.--THE DEATH OF PINTO.--THE
CLOSEST CALL I EVER HAD.--A NIGHT ESCAPE.--BACK AT FORT DOUGLAS.
On the arrival of Mr. Campbell and party we packed up and were off
to the waters of the Gila. Our crowd consisted of Green Campbell,
of Missouri; Thomas Freeman and David Roberts, of Illinois, and
Marlow Pease, of Massachusetts.
I took three saddle horses with me and they each took a saddle
horse and three extra horses belonging to the company. We did not
lose any time getting across the main divide. Being late in the
fall we had great fear of becoming snow-bound on the trip. We left
the head of the Arkansas river some fifty miles to the north so as
to be able to cross the river without having the snow to
encounter. After we were across the main divide I told them there
would be no danger of being snowed in now. So they would stop
occasionally from half a day to three days in a place to prospect
what they called the most favorable looking places for the yellow
metal and most generally finding a little gold, but not as they
considered in paying quantities, and while they were prospecting
it was my business to scout all around the camp to prevent a
surprise party by the reds and to kill game to live on.
We arrived at the Gila, striking the middle fork a little more
southwest than I had ever been before. I told them we were now in
the Apache country and that those were the worst Indians we had to
contend with. We found a nice place for a camp and Mr. Campbell
proposed to build a log cabin in order to protect ourselves
against the Indians, but I told them I thought they had better
prospect a week or ten days first, and if they found it to pay
them we could build a cabin, and in the mean time I would try and
locate the Indians and watch their movements.
The first four or five days I didn't go very far away, but made an
entire circuit of the camp every day. After being here five or six
days, I struck out in a southwesterly direction, intending to go
about ten or fifteen miles from camp.
Up to this time I had not seen any fresh Indian sign whatever, and
had about concluded that we would not have any trouble this winter
with them. After riding about ten miles or so I came to a nice
little brook, and there being fine grass, I stopped and let my
horse feed for an hour or more. I was riding my old Pinto that day
and he was also feeling fine.
About one o'clock I mounted Pinto and started south, striking for
a high mountain, from which if I could once reach the top, I
could, with the aid of my glasses, see all over the entire
country. While climbing this mountain I ran on to a bear cub.
Seeing that he was very fat, I shot him and lashed him behind my
saddle, and was soon climbing the mountain again, which was, in
places, steep and very rocky, with scattering pine trees here and
there. After going about a half a mile and just as I came to the
top of a steep little pitch, I came face to face with a band of
Apache Indians. I did not take time to count them, but thought
there were about eighteen or twenty of them, I fired four shots in
quick succession. The first two shots I killed two Indians, but
the other two I could not tell whether I got my men or not, as I
was just in the act of turning my horse when I fired. They fired a
perfect shower of arrows at me. To run back down the mountain the
way I came was a matter of impossibility, as it was both steep and
rocky, so I took around the side of the mountain, thinking that I
would be able in a few moments' run to reach the top of the
mountain, where I could have a better show to defend myself.
I had to ride all over my horse to avoid the arrows, first on one
side, hanging by one foot and one hand, then on the other side.
I had not run more than one hundred yards until I knew there was
something wrong with my horse, for he had always before seemed to
know when I was in a tight place and seemed eager to carry me out
of danger. I gave him the spurs three or four times but he did not
increase his speed in the least, and then I knew well that he had
been shot, and it always seemed a miracle to me that I went
through all that and did not get shot also.
It is quite useless for me to say I thought my time had come. On
looking ahead some fifty yards I saw a pile of rocks about four or
five feet high, which I made a bee line for. Getting to the rock
pile I dismounted and ran between two large rocks where poor old
Pinto tried to follow me, but he received two more arrows in his
hip and one in his flank. He fell to the ground, and after falling
raised his head, and looking toward me, whinnied.
The poor faithful old fellow lay there and would whinny for me at
intervals as long as he lived, which was perhaps half an hour. The
reader can fancy my condition just at this time. Here I was almost
surrounded by hostile Indians and the only friend that I had with
me dead. I did not expect to ever get away from there, for I
expected that while a part of the Indians guarded me the balance
would go off and rally reinforcements.
I had made up my mind to fight them to the last and kill as many
as I could before they got me. They made three desperate charges
for me before dark, but as luck would have it I was always loaded
for them. I piled up rocks as I could get them loose in a manner
to give me protection from every quarter, but expected they would
reinforce and attempt to starve me out.
Just as it was getting dark, two of the Indians crawled up to
within thirty feet of my rock pen. I was watching them, and just
as they rose up to fire I fired and brought one of them to the
ground, thereby making another good Apache. The other one ran
away, and it being somewhat dark, I did not get him.
This made the fifth Indian I had killed since I had been in my
little rock pen and I had fired eleven shots. After it was good
and dark I made up my mind that I would get out of there sometime
during the night, for to remain there till the morrow only meant
death, and I might as well lose my life in trying to get away that
night as to remain there and be killed the next day. I felt sure
they had a guard around me, but I made up my mind to make a
desperate effort to get away. I crawled to where my dead horse was
laying, which was only a few feet from my rock house, cut the
latigo, removed my saddle from the dead horse, lashed it to my
back, taking the mochilar or covering for a saddle, which I have
described heretofore, I took my knife and cut a hole in the front
portion of the mochila where the pommel of the saddle protrudes,
so that I was able to stick my head through. The mochila was good
as a shield, for an arrow would not go through it except at very
short range. I cut the reins off of the bridle, and as the bit was
a very heavy one, I thought it would answer pretty well as a sling
shot in close quarters.
I had no idea of getting out without a desperate fight with
ninety-nine chances against me to one in my favor. After I had my
rig complete I started to crawl away flat on the ground like a
snake, I would crawl for a short distance, then stop and listen.
It was very dark, there being no moon in the fore part of the
night. I was expecting every minute to feel an arrow or a tomahawk
in my head. After working my way down the hill some hundred yards
or so, I came to a tree and raised up by the side of it. I stood
and listened for some time, but could not hear anything of the
Indians, so I struck out in the direction of camp, walking very
cautiously for some little distance.
After traveling about six miles I felt comparatively safe, knowing
they could not do anything toward tracking me until morning and
did not think they would even be able to track me then.
I passed over a great deal of rocky country where there was but
little vegetation. Finally I laid down to wait until morning, and
I must say that I never had been out in all my life when I
actually longed for daylight to come as I did that long and lonely
night, and I believe that I would freely have given five hundred
dollars to have had a man there with me that night; not that I was
afraid of Indians, for I considered that I had given them the
slip, and did not believe they would be able to overtake me before
I would reach camp even though they should be able to track me the
next morning.
I thought of my dying horse who had been such a faithful servant
and carried me out of so many tight places, and when I would think
of him I could fancy that I could see him raise his head and
whinny at me as he had done that evening in his dying moments,
seemingly asking me for help, and I could not keep the tears from
my eyes. As soon as it was light I started for camp, arriving
there about ten o'clock that morning. The men in camp had given me
up and did not expect to ever see me any more, thinking that the
Apaches had got me. I told the men that we would have to leave
this part of the country now, and that too, just as soon as I
could get a bite to eat and get my saddle repaired. While the boys
pulled up and started to move camp I saddled up another horse and
took my back track, traveling very cautiously, thinking they would
try to follow me out, and I wanted to watch their movements and
see whether they had reinforced or not. I told the boys to move
northeast and where to camp, the place being ten miles from where
we were then, and not to build any fire that night, also that I
would be in camp some time before morning this time, I was very
cautious not to be surprised the second time. I rode back within a
mile of where my dead horse lay, but could not see any Indians, so
I finally concluded that it had been a small hunting party, and
seeing that they could not scare me out of my rock pen by their
ferocious charges, accompanied by a war-whoop that would make the
hair stand on the bravest mountaineer's head, they had abandoned
the idea altogether and had no doubt left the ground before I
started to crawl away from my rock pen, which had been the means
of saving me from falling their victim.
I returned to camp, arriving shortly after dark. We moved north,
the men prospecting the country as we went and I scouting, keeping
a sharp lookout to prevent a surprise party, but we did not see
any more Indians during the entire winter. We struck the Colorado
river at the mouth of the Green river.
Mr. Campbell concluded that he would go to southern Nevada; taking
a southwesterly course from Green river, I piloted them about one
hundred miles and they now being in a country where they were
perfectly safe as far as hostile Indians were concerned, I left
the party, and the most of them it has never been my pleasure to
meet since. I met one of the party by the name of Freeman in
Seattle in the year of 1889. At that time he was settled down in
his old neighborhood in Illinois and had a wife and five children.
I can truthfully say that I never met five better and more
agreeable men to travel with in all my career than those men were.
While with them I never saw one of them apparently out of humor
with his companions or heard one use any kind of language than
that of a gentleman. Leaving the party I struck for Salt Lake
City. I had no trouble in finding the way, or otherwise, and
arrived at Fort Douglas about the first of March.
On arriving here I found General Connor just making preparations
to move with almost his entire force against the Ute Indians, who
at this time were concentrating their forces in Cash Valley, and
committing a great many depredations in that part of the country.