Recollections of Mountain Life.
Character of the Native Indian.--The Caravan.--Interesting
Incident.--Effects of Cholera.--Commission of Joe Smith.--Snow on
the Mountains.--Government Appointment.--Adventure with three
Bears.--Journey to Los Angelos.--Mt. St. Bernardino.--The
Spring.--Character of Men.--Insubordination Quelled.--Suffering
for Water and Relief.--A Talk with Indians.
In writing the life of Kit Carson, my object has been, as has been
mentioned, not merely to record those remarkable traits of character which
Mr. Carson developed, but also to portray and perpetuate the great
features of that wild and wondrous mountaineer life, which the discovery
of this continent ushered in, but even the memory of which is now rapidly
passing to oblivion.
It so happens that I have an intimate friend who passed ten years of his
early manhood roving through these solitudes. I have spent many an evening
hour, listening to his recital of the adventures which he encountered
there. This friend, Mr. William E. Goodyear, is a man of unusual native
strength of mind, of marvellous powers of memory, and I repose implicit
confidence in his veracity. At my earnest solicitation, he has furnished
me with the following graphic narrative of the scenes which he witnessed
nearly a score of years ago, when these regions were rarely visited save
by the wild beast and the Indian.
In the year 1852 I, then a young man, in all the vigor of early youth, and
of unusual health and strength, when the wildest adventures were a
pleasure, was led by peculiar circumstances to undertake a trip across the
continent. Our journey from Independence, Missouri, to Salt Lake was
accomplished without any incident worthy of especial record. Along the
route we were accompanied by almost an incessant caravan of wagons,
horsemen and footmen, some bound to the Mormon city, some flocking to the
recently discovered gold mines in California, and some on hunting and
trapping excursions, to the vast prairies and majestic valleys of the far
west. Here we met several men whose names had attained much renown among
the pioneers of the wilderness, such men as James Bridger, Tim Goodell,
Jim Beckwith, chief of the Crow Indians, William Rogers, a half breed, and
Arkansas Sam.
Our company numbered but four, consisting of my uncle, then and now
resident in California, who was returning to his home, from a visit to the
States; myself, who was crossing the continent mainly for the love of
adventure; another young man, and an Indian boy, about sixteen years old,
called Joe. The boy had been brought from the Indian country, and was
about as wild and ungovernable a spirit as ever chased a buffalo or
shouted the war-whoop.
My uncle had often during the previous twenty years, crossed the
mountains, on trapping expeditions with an elder brother. In these
adventures my uncle, whom I was accompanying, had become quite familiar
with the peculiarities of the Indian, and had become acquainted with many
of the chiefs of the different tribes. Neither he nor his brother had even
been afraid to enter the camp of the Indian; for they had never deceived
nor defrauded him.
Let it be remembered that these excursions of my uncle had taken place
nearly forty years ago, before unprincipled traders had carried whiskey
into the country and robbed the Indians in every possible way. The native
Indian seems to have been the soul of honor. But now how changed!
contaminated by vagabond white men.
Our company had about a dozen horses and mules. We rode the horses and the
well packed mules carried our luggage. We had also a light two horse
spring wagon. Behold us, then, three of us, mounted in half Spanish
saddles, with our rifles in front lying crossways between our persons and
the horn of the saddle. The never-failing revolver and hunting knife were
in our belts. The young man drove the wagon which contained many of our
most valuable effects.
It was without much thought that we set out on the emigrant trail to
California, a distance of about three thousand miles. As on our journey we
were one day descending the hills into the valley of the Platte river,
near a place called Ash Hollow, our keen-eyed Indian boy exclaimed, "I see
Indians." Looking around with a rapid glance and seeing nothing, I said,
"I think not." "Yes," he replied, "there certainly are Indians," and
pointed to some specks far away before us, on the meadows which skirted
the stream.
Sure enough, there was a band of Indians quite distinctly discernible. My
uncle looked at them for a moment quite intently and in silence. Then he
said:
"Boys! there is a band of Indians on the war-path. I wish you to obey my
instructions exactly. Do not stop your riding animals or the team. Keep
straight ahead, unless I tell you to halt. Do not fire a shot unless I
fire first. Then take deliberate aim and kill as many as you can before
you go under."
"Go under!" this was the almost invariable phrase, in the language of the
mountains, for death. I well remember my thoughts as we neared them. It
was indeed a formidable looking band of Aripaho Indians, hideously
painted, and looking more like demons than men, armed for a fight. They
were all mounted, and each warrior carried in his hand a long spear and a
strong shield, impervious to arrows, made of rawhide. Their bows and
arrows were slung to their backs. To my inexperienced eye they seemed
incarnate fiends. We had met several small bands of Indians before, but no
war party like this.
When we had approached within a few hundred yards of each other, my uncle
said:
"Boys! do not forget what I have told you."
Then pressing his large Mexican spurs into the sides of his horse, he
darts away towards them upon the full gallop, at the same time shouting
something in the Indian language which I did not understand. Their ranks
opened and he rode into the centre and instantly dismounted. There was the
chief on a splendid charger. He also alighted, and for a moment both were
concealed from our view, buried as it were, within the ranks of the plumed
warriors. They were, as we afterwards ascertained, fraternally embracing
each other. Both remounted their horses, the ranks opened again and they
two, my uncle and the chief, rode out upon the full run towards us as our
little cavalcade were steadily pressing forward on the trail.
When they reached us, the chief held out his hand to me, and said in
broken English, "How do, brother?" I shook hands with him, returning the
salutation of "How do." My uncle then turning to me said, "Have you plenty
of tobacco with you?" "O yes," I replied rather tremblingly, for I was ill
at ease. "You can have it all if you want it." "I don't want it all,"
uncle replied. "Give me one plug." I gave it to him and he handed it to
the chief.
The war party was directly on the trail. Four hundred mounted warriors
occupy much space, composing a formidable looking band. Following the
directions which had been given us, we continued on the move. The chief
waved a signal to his men, to which they promptly responded, opening their
ranks and filing to the right and to the left. We passed on through this,
living wall bristling with spears, meeting with an occasional greeting of
"How do." Having passed through the long lines of the band my uncle said
to me, "Keep straight on till night. I will then rejoin you. I am going to
have a big smoke with the chief."
With alacrity we obeyed this mandate, glad enough to leave such customers
behind us. I confess that I was half frightened to death, and feared I
should never see my uncle again. In the evening he joined us and laughed
very heartily at me for wishing, in my trepidation, to give the chief all
my tobacco.
In after life, in my intercourse with the Indians, I got bravely over
being scared by any sights or sounds emanating from them. We pressed on
without molestation to Salt Lake, passing continually the newly made
graves of the dead. The cholera had broken out with awful fatality, along
the whole line of the emigrants' march, consigning thousands to burial in
the wilderness.
We reached the Great Salt Lake, the home of the Mormons, in safety. Here
we remained for nearly a month. I called on Brigham Young, and also on the
old patriarch Joe Smith. From the latter I received a commission, or power
of attorney, for the consideration of two dollars, authorizing me to heal
the sick, to raise the dead, and to speak all languages. Perhaps my want
of faith left me as powerless as other men, notwithstanding my commission.
We spent our time here in strolling around the city, visiting the
tabernacle, bathing and fishing in the river Jordan, which empties into
the lake, and in making sundry purchases for the continuation of our
journey to the Pacific.
Again we started upon our journey. After weary days of travel, without
encountering any adventure of special interest, we reached the vast ridge
of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Up, up, and still up, the trail led us
over the gigantic cliffs. On the summit we found snow hundreds of feet
deep, and apparently as hard as the rock which it surmounted. We crossed
the ridge by what is called the Carson route. Descending the mountains on
the western side, we find ourselves in California, and pressing on through
Sacramento, to Benicia, are at our journey's end.
We left Independence on the third of June. It is now the latter part of
September. We have spent almost four months on the road. And here let me
say, that had I given a description of the country, its rivers, its
mountains, its scenery, its abundance of game, among the noblest of which,
are the buffalo, bears of different kinds, deer, antelope, mountain sheep;
its numerous rivers abounding with a great variety of fishes,--had I
endeavored to give a full description of all these, it would have demanded
a volume rather than a chapter.
Here I was at Benicia, and winter was at hand. I decided not to go to the
mining district until the spring sun should return. Provisions commanded
almost fabulous prices. Packers got a dollar a pound for packing flour,
sugar, rice and other things which the miners must have.
But an unexpected opening presented itself to me. Mr. Frederick Loring was
about to set out on a surveying tour in behalf of the government. I
secured a position in the party as chain-man.
We set out for San Rafael, which is in Marin county, on the coast of the
Pacific, just north of San Francisco. We had been out but five or six
weeks, when Mr. Loring's health began seriously to fail him. One day he
called me to him, and said:
"I wish you now to quit chaining and to carry my instrument and to watch
me, that you may learn to use it yourself. I shall probably not be able to
finish this contract. I ought to be on my bed now."
Very readily I fell in with this arrangement. Having studied navigation
while a boy at school, which is somewhat similar to surveying, it did not
take me a great while to learn to adjust the instrument, or to take the
variations at night, on the elongation of the north star. I will here
remark in passing, that Mr. Loring soon became so enfeebled that he
returned to San Francisco, where he died.
One day while surveying in the coast range, we had descended a mountain,
and upon a plain below had found a dense chaparral or thicket of bushes,
so closely interwoven that we could not penetrate it with our pack
animals. We therefore sent the boys down the plain, along the edge of the
thickets, to find some better place to go through. Mr. Loring, our
chain-man and I prepared to make a triangulation, in order to get the
distance from the point we were at, to a white stone on our line of
survey, which was on the side of the opposite mountain and across the
chaparral.
Having finished the triangulation, Mr. Loring and I endeavored to cross
the chaparral by a direction different from that which the main body of
the party was pursuing. Suddenly Mr. Loring dropped his instrument and in
a tone of terror exclaimed:
"Look at that bear." I looked as he pointed in the direction of a large
rock, and there were three huge grizzly bears. Loring, being longer legged
than I, left me like a shot from a gun. I ran to a tree, near by, from
four to six feet in circumference, and very speedily found myself perched
among its branches. I looked for the bears. One had not left the spot
where we discovered them. Another was growling and snarling at the foot of
the tree which I had climbed. The other was going after Loring at no very
slow pace.
We had got through the chaparral and our party with the mules had also
come across and were many rods farther down the valley, coming up to meet
us. As Loring fled with the speed of an antelope, he met the first animal,
which happened to be the kitchen mule. He was so called, because he had
very large open bags or panniers, into which we put all our cooking
utensils. Loring sprang upon the back of the mule. At the same moment the
animal caught sight of the grizzly bear. Frantic with terror, he turned
and fled as mule never fled before. Down went the mule on the back track
along the edge of the chaparral. Once in a while, as the bags flew around,
they would catch on the bushes, and tear a hole. Soon the tin cups and
plates began to fly, the mule kicking at them with every jump, making such
a din as to set all the rest of the animals flying through the bushes, and
down the trail in the wildest imaginable stampede. The huge bear in mad
pursuit was rushing after them.
It was a sight I shall never forget. Loring on the cook's mule hanging on
with all his might. The tin ware flying in all directions. All the boys as
well as your humble servant, up in the trees looking on. I laughed so
heartily at the ludicrous scene, that I was in danger of falling, in which
case the bear would have torn me to pieces right quick.
But who is this coming towards me? He is an old hunter of our party who
used to make shingles in the Red-woods. He has had two sons killed by
bears. Now he has joined our party to provide us with game. Deliberately,
he walks up to within ten feet of the bear who is growling at the foot of
my tree. Bruin turns on his new foe, and rising on his hind feet, with
appalling howlings, prepares for battle. But in an instant the old man's
rifle is at his shoulder. His eye runs quickly through the sights, an
explosion follows, and the bear is dead. The hunter knew well where to
strike a vital point. Satisfied that the monster was powerless, I came
down from the tree.
The other bear, apparently dismayed by the commotion he had created,
turned into the chaparral and disappeared. It required all the rest of the
day to re-collect our party and to repair damages.
Let us now pass from these scenes to the spring of the year 1854. Here we
are then in San Francisco, all ready to start on board the Sea Bird. "Cast
off the lines." "Aye, aye, sir." Off we go around North Beach. You will
see Point Boneta on the north, and Point de los Lobos on the south.
Through the straits we go out at the Golden Gate. Onward we glide past
Farallones de los Frayles, and here we are out on the broad Pacific.
After sailing about three hundred miles south we arrive at San Pedro. We
go ashore at once and secure seats in the stage for Ciudad de los Angelos,
which is situated about twenty-five miles from here in a northerly
direction. There is now, after the lapse of twenty years, a railroad,
instead of Banning's stages, by which one can be transported to the City
of Angels. We shall be obliged to stay here for a few days, to prepare our
outfit. Let us see what we want. Mules and jacks, pack-saddles, saddles
for ourselves to ride, in fact every thing pertaining to camp-life. Here
we can get almost any thing we wish for man or beast.
Well then we will suppose that now we are ready to start. Away we go
towards San Bernardino. We pass the finest of vineyards where thousands of
gallons of wine are made. On, on we go, and at last, after a ride of about
seventy miles, we arrive at San Bernardino. One of the first things which
attracts our attention is the mountain of the same name. It rises
seventeen thousand feet above the level of the ocean, attaining an
altitude two thousand feet above that of Mont Blanc, the monarch of the
Alps.
The inhabitants of the towns are, with few exceptions, Mormons. It was
from this place that we started on a survey, commencing east of the coast
range of mountains, and extending our operations to the extreme boundary
line of California, on the east. The Colorado river was then the line
which separated California from New Mexico.
The party employed in this surveying tour consisted of about forty men.
The first day we went as far as the mouth of the Cahon Pass, by which we
were to penetrate through the coast range of which I have spoken. At this
spot we found a large farm, which they call a ranche, where provisions can
be purchased, and also poor whiskey. We rested here for the night,
sleeping in the open air, and at an early hour in the morning, sprung from
our blankets ready dressed. The cook speedily prepared our breakfast, we
ate like hungry men and then packed our mules and jacks, and were on our
way. Our pack animals will carry from two to three hundred pounds without
any trouble.
Nearly at the eastern end of the pass we came to water. This I claim that
I discovered, or at least that my horse discovered it for me. It is called
in Spanish _Guilliome Bobo_, or "William I Drink." No one would see the
spring unless narrowly looking for it. It trickles down the almost
perpendicular side of the mountain. We encamped at the spring, and in the
morning made an early start, as we had some forty or fifty miles to go
that day. But we had a serious job to encounter before we could get out of
this defile. It is so steep at its eastern extremity, that we had to
unpack and send up very small loads at a time. In some places we had to
use ropes, to haul up our goods.
But after a while everything is ready for another start. On, on we go,
through a barren cactus country, till we reach the Mohavè river. The day
is far spent, we are all very weary, men as well as animals. So, boys, off
with the packs of provisions, and let your mules go with their long hair
ropes. Let one of the men be sent to look out for the animals. This was no
sooner said than done. I was captain of my men. A harder set could not be
found, in any prison in this or any other land.
My lieutenant, whose name was Texas, had but one eye and he was covered
with scars. But notwithstanding the company was a hard one, it was the
best I could get for my use. Almost all of them had been in many a fight.
Before they had been with me three months, I have reason to believe every
one of them loved me, and I know that they feared me. Only two instances
of mutiny occurred in over two years and a half. Both of these I will here
relate.
On one occasion I observed that some of the jacks had been kicked
severely. I said to my pack-master, "Mr. Williams, how is this? Those
jacks have been shamefully used. The skin is off and the wounds are
bleeding. I, as you well know, hold you personally responsible for every
animal. Don't let me ever see this again, sir."
As I turned to go from him, I heard him mutter something. I at once, with
my hand upon my revolver, came back towards him and inquired, "what's this
you're saying, sir?"
He replied, "I kicked the jacks myself and I will do it again if they
bother me."
I walked to within perhaps ten paces of him and said, "If I ever catch you
at it, I will shoot you like a dog."
"Two," he replied, "can play at that game," and his hand neared the butt
of his revolver. I jerked out my pistol and fired at his arm. His pistol
dropped to the ground.
"Don't shoot again, captain. I will do as you wish in the future."
"All right," said I. "Let me see your arm."
I had shot him through his wrist. I bound up the wound as well as I could,
and it soon healed. He remained in my employ nearly four years after that,
and to my knowledge was never guilty of doing me or my animals a wrong.
Another instance happened a long time after this. I was getting short of
provisions, and had got to do just so much work within a certain time. So
I resolved to run two instruments. As we were then running sectional
lines, I could take the variations at night. So I fixed another instrument
and gave it into the hands of a young man by the name of Biddleman. I
assigned to him his part of the line then, and set him at work within
three miles of the camp.
Returning to camp about two o'clock in the afternoon, to do some traverse
work around a small lake, what was my astonishment, to see that
Biddleman's party was already in camp. Upon asking him what it meant, he
told me that upon running a random line, he stopped to correct the error
at the half mile corner, and that his men on getting to the mile corner,
instead of coming back and reporting the error as they should have done,
started for camp. He, of course, followed on, as he could not do anything
alone.
I at once called his party of men, told them to get their chain and pins,
put the stakes, pickaxe and shovel on the line animal, and follow me. This
they did. When we got to the corner where Biddleman left off work, I set
my instrument, gave them an object to run by, and sent them off. They went
and returned to me. I then ran another mile north, set my instrument and
started them east again on random. They went and I followed them to the
half mile corner, to which place they returned.
I said: "Boys, we will now go to camp. In future whether with me or
Biddleman, you will continue at your work until you are directed to
return."
Had I allowed either of the above transactions to have passed unpunished,
I might as well have started for the States, for all order would have been
at an end.
Sometimes we would see a small party of Indians at a short distance from
us. I would step to my instrument, and turn the glass towards them. They
would at once commence to scamper, throw sand, turn into all manner of
shapes, lie down, roll over, thinking no doubt it was a gun or something
that would destroy them. At one time, I attempted to cross from the sink
of the Mohavè river to Providence, some sixty miles, expecting to find
water at Washburn's well. This was a hole which I afterwards found dug
down about ten feet in the white sand that covers this desert. On this
sand not any thing grows, but musquit bush, which bears a bean that the
Indians eat.
After travelling to within twelve miles of the mountain, my animals and my
men all gave out. We did not have a drop of water, and my chart said that
there was none short of the mountain. I told the boys that evening was
coming on, and I would take some leather bottles we had and go and get
some water as quickly as I could. So just before dark, I started with
bottles enough to hold twenty quarts. I had a trail to follow in the dark,
not over a foot in width. After what seemed to me the longest twelve miles
I ever travelled, I arrived at the mountain. After following the ravine
through the top, I found the spring, drank heartily, filled my bottles,
and started on my return trip. I arrived at the place where I had left my
men, just as the day was breaking. After giving them a good drink, I gave
some to each of the animals, any one of which would drink from a canteen
or bottle.
We then all immediately started on towards the mountain, at which place we
finally arrived. When within about fifty yards of the spring, I saw a
small party of Indians camped just above it. One of them, the chief,
stepped forward, and in Spanish ordered me to stop. And here let me say,
that almost all of the Indians, especially their chiefs, can talk Spanish.
When he ordered me to stop, I burst out into a laugh, and asked him "what
for." My boys in the meantime were preparing for a fight. I told them to
put up their weapons, as I did not wish to commence fighting the Indians
here, as there were lots of them, and we had a good deal of work to do in
that vicinity. Though we might kill or capture all of this party, a larger
band might attack us in the future. So I told the boys that if they would
keep still, I would bother the Indians a little, and then let them go.
This was agreed to. Upon my asking the chief _what for_, he said,
"This water belongs to the Indians."
I replied, "Do you call yourselves Indians? You are nothing but squaws and
papooses. I was here last night, and got water under your very noses, and
you did not know it."
"The white captain," the chief replied, "talks with two tongues. He lies."
"You are the one that lies," I rejoined. "Has the chief lost his eyesight?
Is he so old that he cannot see the white man's trail? Let him come
forward and meet his white brother alone, and he will show him his trail."
He at once advanced as I did myself. We shook hands. I pointed out my last
night's trail. He saw it at once, and turning to his companions, said to
them,
"The white captain has told the truth."
So we shook hands all around. I gave them some hard bread, also some
bacon, and we had a good time generally all day resting at this spring. At
nightfall they all departed, as silently as shadows, leaving us in full
possession of the spring of water.