To accomplish our most desirable object at this particular time, Ward,

Davis and I secured our horses, leaving Bullock to guard them and

the pack mules. The three of us made our way down the gulch, and as

the wind came to us from the buffaloes, there was no danger of them

scenting us. Thus we secured an excellent position, and waiting a few

minutes for them to feed to within about sixty yards of us, we decided

on the one that had the sleekest coat, thinking he would be the best

beef; for all were very poor old bulls, and we did not wish to injure

more than we needed to keep us from starvation. We all took deliberate

aim, and three rifles rang out as one. The only result visible to us

was that the game wheeled, and ran directly on the back track, leaving

us without even a hope of buffalo meat until we followed on their trail

seventy or eighty rods. There we found where one animal had cast his

cud, and later we saw some blood splattered about. All felt sure we had

hit the buffalo, for each knew how his rifle shot, and said he never

drew a nicer bead on an animal in his life. Then Ward and Davis got

their horses and gave chase, as the game had run almost parallel with

our route toward the notch in the mountains for which we were aiming.

Bullock and I kept on the course our party had marked out to travel,

but before we reached the mountain pass we were heading for, night and

rain came on, and we had to camp in an open greasewood plain. Coming to

a very deep wash that had good feed in it, we concluded to hobble our

animals in the wash. It was difficult to get our stock in, as the banks

were very steep, but at last we succeeded in getting them down, and

felt that they were tolerably safe for the night, with some watching.

We gathered a little greasewood, for there was no other fuel, and tried

to get a tire started in the rain and darkness.

During this time, Bullock began to have cramps, in the stomach and

bowels, and then in his limbs, and soon he was taken with a heavy

chill. It seemed that he would die, in spite of all that I could do

for him. I rubbed him, prayed for him, and put him in a pack of wet

blankets, for we had no other, and were without any earthly comfort for

such an emergency. At last I caught some rain in the frying-pan, then

got hold of our cracker sack, in which was about two tablespoonfuls of

crumbs and dust that had rubbed off the crackers. I heated the water,

put the crumbs in, and brought the mixture to a boil, stirring it so

that it appeared something like gruel, and gave it to the sick man,

who became easier. Then I went out, feeling my way, to see what had

become of our stock, and got so far off in the darkness that I had

great difficulty in finding my way back to my sick companion, but after

much anxiety and bother I found him suffering intensely. I set to work

rubbing him and encouraging him the best I could. I spent the entire

night in attending to him and watching the stock.

Morning came, and still the hunters were unheard of. At one time I

almost despaired of the sick man's life, and thought, if he died,

what could I do with him, so far away from help. I could not take him

home, neither could I put him out of reach of wild beasts, for I had

no spade, pickaxe or shovel; nor was there timber in sight to cremate

him. I had not a mouthful of food, and what had become of our partners,

Ward and Davis, I could not tell. Then came the reaction of the spirit,

and the thought that I must do the best that I could. It would not do

to despair. I must pray for the patient, pack up, and get out of that

place.

The patient seemed to rally with the dawn of day, and by sunrise we

were on our way, and entered the canyon we had been heading for. We

saw no signs of our friends until we reached their camp in the canyon,

for it had rained so heavily as to obliterate the horse tracks. As

they had gone on, we were not quite sure that it was their camp and

tracks, and the canyon afforded excellent opportunity for ambush. But

we were there and must go through. The sick man held up with wonderful

fortitude, though suffering greatly. About 2 p.m. we sighted our

comrades, the buffalo hunters. They mistook us for enemies and fled,

until they found a convenient place to hide themselves and horses, and

where they watched until they saw the gleaming of the sunlight upon our

rifle barrels. Then they recognized us, and as we came up we had a warm

greeting.

Being together once more we hid our animals among the cedars, and

selected our camp with care, as it was night. Our hunters had been

successful, after a chase of ten miles, in getting the buffalo; they

had a hard and hazardous fight with the wounded animal, and it took

them till after dark before they could get what buffalo meat they could

carry on their horses. They also had a very severe night of it; but

the lost were found, and with plenty of buffalo meat in camp we were

thankful.

We broiled and ate, boiled and ate and ate raw liver, and marrow out of

the bones; for be known that men in the condition we were, with severe

hunger, do not always realize how much they have eaten until they

eat too much. So it was with us. When we were through with the meal,

we prepared to "jerk" the remainder of the beef, but before that was

done my three companions were attacked with vomiting and purging; then

followed chills and cramps, and for about four or five hours it seemed

they might all die. I could not say which would go first, and the

previous night's experience was reiterated. I confess that I had been

guilty of as much folly and unreason as they, but being more robust

than the others, I could endure more than they; but I had the very same

kind of an attack as they did, before the journey was over.

When morning came, a sicker and a harder looking lot of men seldom

is seen in the mountains. Yet we must travel, so passed through that

canyon out onto an open plain, leaving the creek to the south of us.

In the afternoon we came to a smooth clay grade, on which were fresh

horse and moccasin tracks, and four large capital letters, in English;

I think they were N, W, H and E. We concluded they had been marked out

with a sharp stick, but not in a manner intelligible to us, so we were

suspicious and cautiously pushed on to a place of shelter and rest.

It was on the 1st day of June that we reached the Middle Ferry on Green

River, Green River County, Utah. There we met with W. I. Appleby,

probate judge, Hosea Stout, prosecuting attorney, William Hickman,

sheriff, Captain Hawley, the ferryman, and his family and some others.

They did not have to be told what we most needed, but supplied with

liberal hand our necessities, for all were aware that the object of

our mission had been to protect just such as they, and the innocent

immigrants, and their property, from not only the raids of the red men,

but also from the more wicked and baser white brigands.

We rested at Green River until the 4th of June, when my fellow

missionaries left for Fort Supply. I remained as interpreter, and to

fill our appointment with Chief Washakie, who was to be at the ferry by

July 15.

CHAPTER XLIII.

ENGAGED AS INTERPRETER--CLASS OF PEOPLE AT GREEN RIVER--APPOINTED

DEPUTY SHERIFF--DROVER THREATENS TO KILL BOATMEN--ARREST ORDERED--RIDE

INTO THE OUTLAWS' CAMP--BLUFFING THE CAPTAIN--A PERILOUS

SITUATION--PARLEY WITH DROVERS--COMPROMISE EFFECTED--DEALING WITH

LAW-BREAKERS--"BILL" HICKMAN AS SHERIFF--SWIMMING CATTLE OVER GREEN

RIVER--A DROVER'S FAILURE--WRITER EMPLOYED TO GET CATTLE OVER--HOW IT

IS DONE--SECRET OF SUCCESS--ARRIVAL OF WASHAKIE--THE FERRYMAN OFFENDS

HIM--THE ANGRY INDIAN SWEARS VENGEANCE ON THE WHITE MAN--HIS PARTING

THREAT--IN PERIL OF AN INDIAN MASSACRE.

AS I had become a fairly good interpreter, the ferry company proposed

to pay my board at Green River while I stayed, as there was no one else

there who could converse with the Indians. The country was new and

wild, and while there were some very good people, the road was lined

with California immigrants and drovers, many of them of a very rough

class, to say the best of them. They would camp a day or two on the

river, and drink, gamble and fight; then the traders and rough mountain

men, half-caste Indians, French and Spaniards, were numerous; there

were also blacksmith and repair shops, whisky saloons, gambling tables,

and sometimes there would be a perfect jam of wagons and cattle, and

two or three hundred men. There were quarrels and fights, and often

men would be shot or stabbed. As the court had been organized only

about two months, it was almost impossible for the sheriff or any

other officer to serve a writ or order of court, unless he had a posse

to back him. Sometimes the ferryman at the Upper Ferry would be run

off his post, and a company of mountain men would run the ferry and

take the money, and it would require every man that was on the side

of law and order to back the officer. In this situation I, though a

missionary, was summoned to take charge of a posse of men to assist the

sheriff in making arrests.

One time there came a man with four thousand head of cattle. He crossed

the river, passed down about four miles and camped under a steep sand

bluff. He had missed a calf, and sent a man back for it. A small

party of Indians, passing along that way, had picked up the animal

and carried it off, supposing that the drovers had abandoned it. The

man who had been sent for the calf, not finding it, rode up to the

ferry and demanded the animal of the boatmen. These told him they did

not have his calf, whereupon he swore at them, called them liars and

thieves, and threatened to kill them, at the same time leveling his

double-barreled shotgun at them.

Judge Appleby happened to be standing within a few feet of the boatmen,

and heard the whole conversation. He ordered the sheriff to take the

man, dead or alive. The sheriff summoned me to his aid, and we started

at once for the culprit. When we got to within four rods of him he

called out, "Do you want anything of me, gentlemen?" The sheriff said,

"Yes; I am the sheriff, and you are my prisoner." The man being on

horseback, defied the sheriff and fled. We fired two shots in the air,

thinking he would surrender, but he did not, and the sheriff pressed

into service the horses of two immigrants near by, and he and I pursued

the fugitive, following him about four miles, where we suddenly came

upon his camp of twenty-four men, armed with double-barrelled shotguns.

The man having had considerably the start of us, had time to get the

camp rallied and ready for action, telling them that two men had shot

at and were then in hot pursuit of him. We were not aware of his camp

being there until we reached the brow of the bluff; then our only

chance was to ride boldly down into the camp, which we did, the sheriff

shouting, "Hold on, gentlemen! I am the sheriff of this county." The

captain of the camp, being a cool-headed and fearless man, said to his

men, "Hold on, boys, wait for the word."

The moment we got into camp we dismounted, and I presume that at least

a dozen guns were leveled at us, their holders being greatly excited,

and swearing death to us if we dared to lay a finger on the fugitive,

or on any other person in the camp. The captain, however, said, "Hold

on, boys! Let's hear what these men have to say." Then the sheriff said

the man (pointing to the culprit) had committed an offense against the

law, in threatening the lives of the boatmen, and leveling his gun as

if to carry out the threat, and the sheriff had been ordered by the

judge to arrest him, but he had defied the officer and fled. "But,"

said the captain, "you shot at him." To this the sheriff replied, "We

called on him to halt, and as he refused to obey, a couple of shots

were fired over his head to make him stop, but he did not do so, and we

followed him to your camp. I now demand him of you as his captain."

At this the captain declared that the sheriff had shot at his man and

had scared him almost to death. He pointed to the man, who was shaking

as if he had a treble shock of the ague, and continued that before

the sheriff should take him every drop of blood in the camp should be

shed. The men brawled out, "Hear! Hear!" when the sheriff said, "All

right, Captain. You may get away with us two, but we have between

seventy-five and one hundred men just over the hills here, and in less

than twenty-four hours we will have you and every man in your camp, and

your stock will have to foot the bill."

Thereupon the captain made response that he would come and answer

for his man, but the sheriff could not take him. Thus the matter was

compromised subject to the court's approval. The captain promised to be

at the judge's within two hours, and was there. So the whole matter was

settled without bloodshed.

This incident is only an illustration of what had to be met every few

days, in which men would refuse to yield to the law until they had to

do so or die, and many were the times that we had to force them down

with the revolver, when, if we had not had "the drop" on them they

would not have yielded. We met men face to face, with deadly weapons,

and if it had not been for the cunning and the cool head of "Bill"

Hickman, as he was commonly called, blood would have been shed more

than once when it was avoided. I speak of "Bill" Hickman as I found

him in the short time I was with him. In his official capacity he was

cunning, and was always ready to support the law while I was with him

on Green River.

One day about 10 o'clock a.m., a herd of four hundred head of cattle

came up, and the owners ferried their wagons across the river. Then

they tried to swim their cattle over but could not do so. I stood by

and watched their futile efforts until I observed the reason the cattle

would not go across. Then I attempted to tell the captain that he could

not swim his stock with the sun shining in their faces. The captain

being one of those self-sufficient men often met with, rather snubbed

me, saying, "I have handled cattle before today." I turned away,

remarking that he never would get his cattle across in that manner, and

saying that I could put every head over at the first attempt.

Some one repeated to the "boss" what I had said, and asked him why he

did not get that mountaineer to help, as he understood the business

better than anyone else on the river. "Well," he said, "we will make

another try, and if we do not succeed, we will see what he can do." The

trial was another failure. Then he came to me and said, "Cap., what

will you charge me to swim those cattle, and insure me against loss?"

I answered, "You have wearied your cattle and fooled them so much that

it will be more trouble now than at first, but if you will drive your

stock out on that 'bottom' and call your men away from them, I will

swim them and insure every hoof, for twenty-five cents a head." Said

he, "I will do it, for it will cost fifty cents a head to cross them in

the boat. So you will take charge of them on the 'bottom?'"

"Yes," said I, "so you do not let them scatter too much."

The river was booming, but I knew of a place where the bank was three

or four feet higher than the water, and where the stream ran swiftly,

setting across to where the cattle would reach a gradual slope. I then

went to a camp of Indians near by, and hired four of them to assist

me. They stripped and mounted their ponies with their robes about

them. One went between the cattle and the river, so as to lead, and

the others circled around the stock and got them all headed toward the

place designated for them to take to the water. Then they caused the

cattle to increase their speed until they were on the gallop, when the

Indians gave a few yells and shook their robes, the man in the lead

leaped his horse into the river, and every hoof took to the water,

and were across safe and sound within thirty minutes from the time

they started. The captain paid without objecting, and would have me

go over and take supper with him and his family. He said, "Aside from

having my cattle across safe and sound, I have the worth of my money in

valuable experience." Next day he was back over the river, and would

tell of the incident and say to the drovers he met with, "There is that

mountaineer. I am ---- if he can't beat any man swimming cattle that I

ever saw." And others would tell the drovers the same story.

Now, my friendly reader, I will tell you the secret of swimming horses

and cattle across a river. It is: Find a place (which you always can

do) somewhere in the bends of the watercourse, where you can swim

your stock from the sun, and where they take to the water the deeper

the better, even if you have to make them jump from the banks. The

swifter the current the better; then they are not so likely to injure

one another in jumping. Again, see that the outcoming place is on

a grade, and the water is shallow. Then have some good swimmer, on

horseback, take the lead; push your stock to a lively gait, and success

is assured. I had charge of swimming ten thousand head of cattle across

Green River, in the months of June and July, 1854, and never lost a

hoof, yet forced hundreds of them over banks eight to ten feet high,

into the water. In such case, the water must be deep, or we might have

sustained damage. I have found, as a rule, that nearly all men who have

much money or property think that they know it all, and are hard to

convince. But some of the drovers learned by object lessons, and almost

all of them thought they could swim their own cattle; and so they could

have done, if they had known the correct plan, or had made the effort

after sundown or before sunrise.

About the time set for his arrival, Washakie, the great Shoshone

chieftain, came in with seven of his braves, and quietly walked around.

First, he inspected the boat and its fixtures, or tackle; then he

went to the brewery, the bakery, store, court room, whisky saloon,

blacksmith shops, card tables, saw much money changing hands, and

observed that money would purchase about anything the white man had.

When the chief had had a friendly visit all around, he went to the

office of Captain Hawley, the ferryman. There he saw the captain taking

and handling considerable money, among the precious metal being two

or three fifty-dollar gold slugs. He asked for one of these, but the

captain laughed at him, and offered him a silver dollar.

This action offended Washakie, who walked away, and by some means got

hold of some intoxicants. Then he began to think what was going on

in the land of his forefathers, and came to me and said: "This is my

country, and my people's country. My fathers lived here, and drank

water from this river, while our ponies grazed on these bottoms. Our

mothers gathered the dry wood from this land. The buffalo and elk

came here to drink water and eat grass; but now they have been killed

or driven back out of our land. The grass is all eaten off by the

white man's horses and cattle, and the dry wood has been burned; and

sometimes, when our young men have been hunting, and got tired and

hungry, they have come to the white man's camp, and have been ordered

to get out, and they are slapped, or kicked, and called 'd--d Injuns.'

Then our young men get heap mad, and say that when they have the

advantage of the white man, as they have often, they will take revenge

upon him. Sometimes they have been so abused that they have threatened

to kill all the white men they meet in our land. But I have always been

a friend to the white man, and have told my people never to moisten our

land with his blood; and to this day the white man can not show in all

our country where the Shoshone has killed one of his people, though

we can point to many abuses we have patiently suffered from him. Now

I can see that he only loves himself; he loves his own flesh, and he

does not think of us; he loves heap money; he has a big bag full of it;

he got it on my land, and would not give me a little piece. I am mad,

and you heap my good friend, and I will tell you what I am going to

do. Every white man, woman or child, that I find on this side of that

water," pointing to the river, "at sunrise tomorrow I will wipe them

out" (rubbing his hands together). He went on: "You heap my friend; you

stay here all right; you tell them to leave my land. If they are on the

other side of my water, all right, me no kill them, they go home to

their own country, no come back to my land. Tomorrow morning when the

sun come up, you see me. My warriors come, heap damn mad, and wipe them

all out, no one leave."

"Good-by, you tell him, chief, he mad!" was Washakie's parting

exclamation, as he mounted his horse and rode away to his camp on the

Big Sandy, some fifteen miles back from the Green River.

CHAPTER XLIV.

CONSTERNATION AT WASHAKIE'S DECLARATION--PEOPLE HURRY ACROSS THE

RIVER--THE WRITER IS ASKED TO ATTEMPT A RECONCILIATION--NIGHT TOO DARK

TO TRAVEL--CHIEF WASHAKIE AND BRAVES APPEAR AT SUNRISE--THE CHIEF

NOTES THAT THE PEOPLE ARE TERROR-STRICKEN, AND DECIDES THAT HE WILL BE

THEIR FRIEND--TROUBLOUS EXPLOITS OF MOUNTAIN MEN--SHERIFF'S PLAN OF

ARREST--HOW THE SCHEME WORKED--DESPERADOES FREED BY THE COURT--CHASING

AN OFFENDER--SURROUNDED BY HIS ASSOCIATES--COOLNESS AND PLUCK OF THE

SHERIFF WIN--READY TO RETURN HOME--A TRYING EXPERIENCE.

AS might have been expected, I lost no time in apprising the people

of the Indian threat, and the white population promptly complied with

the order to move; so that by daylight there was little of value

on that side of the river. There was great consternation among the

people, and Captain Hawley was quite willing to send a fifty-dollar

slug to the chief; but it was late in the evening, and no one to go

but myself. There was no telling how much liquor there might be in the

Indian camp, so it was not a pleasant job for either friend or foe to

approach the savages on such a dark night as that was. Although I had

Washakie's promise of friendship, I knew that when the Indians were

drunk they were not good company, and I did not care to expose myself

to unnecessary danger.

Individually I had nothing at stake, but there were others who had

their families and thousands of dollars' worth of property at the

mercy of the enraged red men. In this crisis, when I was asked if I

would take the risk, and what amount I would give my service for, I

said I would undertake to go that night and attempt a reconciliation,

and charge fifty dollars, if they would provide me with a good horse.

That they agreed to do. The night was so dark, however, that it was

impossible to get hold of a horse, so we had to move all of value that

could be taken across the river. We also made every preparation for

defense that was possible during the night.

Next morning, true to his promise, Chief Washakie, with fifteen well

armed men, came up, just at sunrise. I went out to meet him, and found

him perfectly sober and friendly, as also his men. The chief rode up

and glanced at the desolate appearance of everything, and saw that

the women and children were greatly frightened. His companions sat on

their horses and looked across the river. Finally the noble chief said,

referring to those who had left their homes. "Tell them to come back.

We will not hurt them. We will be good friends."

Thus ended the big scare, and the people returned. But there was

another stir to come; for in a few days the ferryman from the Upper

Ferry, ten miles above the Middle Ferry, told Judge Appleby that a

party of rough mountaineers had driven him off, threatening his life

if he did not leave immediately. They had taken charge of the ferry,

and were running it and pocketing the money. There were twenty-eight

of them, determined "cut-throats," a part of the desperado band I have

referred to before. The judge ordered the sheriff to summon every

available man, and go at once and ascertain who the leaders were,

then arrest them and bring them before the court. There were only

fourteen men obtainable for the posse, and this number included the

ferryman. The sheriff delegated me to take charge of the posse and

go up on the east side of the river, ahead of him and the ferryman,

who would come up on the west side some time after, so as not to

create any unnecessary suspicion. He instructed us to be sociable with

the outlaws, treat and be treated, and join in any game that might

be engaged in. Said he, "We will get them drunk and divided among

themselves, and then I think we can manage them."

The plan was laid, and every man being well armed, we set out on our

hazardous mission. We had with us one man who could drink an enormous

amount of whisky and yet not get drunk, for he would turn around and

put his ringer down his throat and vomit up the liquor before it would

affect him much. He said, "Boys, I can make a dozen of them drunk,

and keep straight myself." He was asked how he would go about it, and

replied, "Well, I will offer to drink more whisky than any man on the

river, and we will drink by measure; then I will slip out and throw

it up. To hide the trick you must push me out of doors roughly, as if

mad. At other times jam me up in a corner, so I can throw up. Thus I

will have half of them so drunk that anyone of you can handle half a

dozen of them at once." His statement of his ability to drink and empty

his stomach of it being corroborated, he was assigned that part of the

strategy. Then another man, who had been a soldier in the Mexican war,

said, "Well, if you will get them drunk, I will win the money from

their own party to buy the whisky, for I know just how to do it." He

was given that part, for whisky was fifty cents a drink.

When we had perfected arrangements as far as possible, we rode up,

dismounting as if we had just happened to call and knew nothing of the

trouble. Each man took his part, and played it well. To our surprise,

we found their leader, L. B. Ryan, apparently in a drunken stupor; he

was the same person I had met in the Shoshone Indian camp, five or six

weeks before. As he and the sheriff had been on good terms, they drank

together and appeared to be quite friendly; but the ferryman and one of

the band of outlaws got into a fight, and revolvers and bowie knives

were drawn. Twenty-five or thirty of the mountain men, with deadly

weapons flourishing, rushed into the saloon in front of which the fight

began. One man slashed the other with a knife, and one of them fired

two shots, but some bystander knocked the weapon up, so it did no harm.

The prompt action of the sheriff and his supports, together with the

aid of a number of immigrants, stopped the row. If it had not been for

that, a dozen men might have been slain in as many minutes. Some of the

men were of the most desperate character, and swore and made terrible

threats of what they would do.

At last the combatants drank together, while a number of others got so

intoxicated they could scarcely stand alone. Then the sheriff called

Ryan to one side and quietly arrested him, placing him under ten

thousand dollars bonds for his appearance in court on a certain date.

The ferryman and some of the more moderate of the outlaws compromised

their difficulties, and business settled down to a normal condition. We

went back to the Middle Ferry, and the sheriff made his returns on the

official papers.

At the time appointed for Ryan to appear in court, he was there,

with seven young, well-armed warriors and a number of his band, who

sauntered around the court room. Ryan was so desperate and so well

supported by his clique that the court was glad to let him down and out

as easily as possible; for it was evident that the court must do that

or die. So Ryan and his gang returned to their haunts more triumphant

than otherwise.

So we had to deal with desperate men every day or two, and it was

seldom indeed that we could effect an arrest without a determined show

of arms. Yet, we were not compelled to use them. The offenders must

see that we had them, and had the nerve to use them, before they would

yield. In one instance I was ordered by the sheriff to take a man who

had broken from the officer. The man was running, and I followed,

revolver in hand. As the fugitive ran, he drew his weapon and wheeled

around. I was so near as to place my revolver uncomfortably close to

his face before he could raise his weapon. He saw at once that I had

the "drop" on him, as we used to say, and delivered his revolver to

me. The next moment the sheriff and posse had their backs together and

weapons raised, while twenty-four armed men appeared on the scene and

demanded the man. But when they looked into the muzzles of fourteen

Colt's revolvers with bright, shining, waterproof caps exposed, and the

sheriff called out in a firm and decisive voice, "I am the sheriff of

Green River County, and have a writ for this man," they paused, though

some of them swore the officers could not take the man from camp, and

advanced in a threatening manner. Then the sheriff commanded, "Halt!

The first man that advances another step, or raises his weapon, is a

dead man. Stand! I, as sheriff, give you fair warning." At that some of

the more cautious said, "Hold on, boys! We must not oppose an officer,"

and all concluded they must give up the man and submit to the law for

that time. The offense of the accused was shooting the ferryman's dog,

while the latter was eating something under the table, and while the

ferryman's wife and daughter were standing at the table washing dishes;

and when the ferryman remonstrated at such conduct, threatening to

shoot him. Ultimately the matter was compromised, the culprit and his

friends paying the costs.

On the 7th of July, I began preparations to return to Fort Supply, as

my real missionary labors seemed to have come to an end in that part,

and I was glad of it. From May 13 to July 8, 1854, had been one of the

most hazardous, soul-trying, disagreeable experiences of my life, for

the short period it occupied. I have written a very brief synopsis

of it in the foregoing account; for it might seem impossible to the

person of ordinary experience for so many thrilling incidents as I had

witnessed to happen in so short a time.

CHAPTER XLV.

GO TO FORT SUPPLY--START BACK TO GREEN RIVER AND MEET O. P. ROCKWELL

AT FORT BRIDGER--HE BRINGS ME A TRADER'S LICENSE, ALSO GOODS TO TRADE

TO THE INDIANS--BEING LATE IN THE SEASON, WE STORE THE GOODS, AND GO

TO SALT LAKE CITY--RECEIVE THE APPROVAL OF GOVERNOR YOUNG--MOVE TO

OGDEN--ACCOMPANY GOVERNOR YOUNG AS INTERPRETER--MY HORSE STOLEN--CALLED

ON A MISSION TO THE SHOSHONES--ON GOING TO SALT LAKE CITY, I AM

RELEASED--ORDERED TO TAKE PART IN DISARMING INDIANS AT OGDEN--A

DIFFICULT JOB--CHASE TO MOUND FORT--HAND-TO-HAND STRUGGLE WITH A

POWERFUL SAVAGE--INDIANS DISARMED, BUT SULLEN--CHIEF'S BROTHER OFFERS

ALL HIS POSSESSIONS FOR HIS GUN--PRECAUTIONS TAKEN TO FEED THE INDIANS

THAT WINTER--TEACH THE INDIAN LANGUAGE IN SCHOOL--PROSPER IN BUSINESS.

ON July 9, I started for Fort Supply, arriving there on the 11th, where

I found all well. On the 14th I began a journey back to Green River,

but met Porter Rockwell at Fort Bridger. He had a license from Governor

Brigham Young for me to trade with the Indians; also some two or three

thousand dollars' worth of Indian goods for me to market. At that time

there was no opportunity to trade, as the Indians had disposed of their

robes, pelts and furs for the season, so we sent the goods to Fort

Supply and had them stored there.

I accompanied Rockwell to Salt Lake City, arriving there on July 19. We

reported conditions to the governor, who received us very kindly, and

approved of what we had done. On August 15 I went to Ogden City and on

the 28th accompanied Governor Young, as interpreter, to Chief Catalos'

camp of Shoshones, four miles north of Ogden. This large camp of

Indians had some grievances to settle, and particularly desired to ask

favors and get a better understanding with the white men through their

big chief. The Indians claimed that they were friendly to the whites,

and wanted the latter to be friendly to them; they also wished to have

trade brought to them. The governor gave them a liberal present of

assorted Indian goods, talked friendship, and told them he would leave

other goods with me to trade. He also advised them to be good people,

and to live at peace with all men, for we had the same great Father.

Governor Young told them it would be good for them to settle down like

the white man, and learn of him how to cultivate the land as he did,

so that when the game was all gone they could live and have something

to eat and to feed their families on. The Indians said this was "heap

good talk," and their hearts felt good; so we parted with them in the

best of feelings, notwithstanding that some of their bad Indians had

stolen my only horse from where I had picketed him on the bottoms. I

did not learn the facts in the case in time to get redress, and all the

consolation I could obtain was that the thief did not know it was my

animal--"heap no good Indian steal your horse."

I returned to Ogden City, and there continued to trade with the Indians

as they came, until October 10, on which date I received a letter

from Elder Orson Hyde, stating that Governor Young wished me to go on

a mission among the Shoshones that winter. I answered the call, but

when I got to Salt Lake City, on the way, it had been learned that the

Indians had gone out so far into the buffalo country that it was not

advisable for me to follow them; so I returned to Ogden and continued

to visit and trade with the Indians, and got up my winter's wood.

On November 20 Wm. Hickman, L. B. Ryan and D. Huntington came up from

Salt Lake City with an order to Major Moore and the citizens of Weber

County to disarm Chief Little Soldier and his band of Indians, and

distribute them among the families in Weber County where the people

were best able to feed and clothe them for the winter, and set them

to work; for they had become very troublesome to the citizens of that

county, by killing cattle, burning fences, and intimidating isolated

families. On the 30th the major called on me to go with his party to

the Indian camp at West Weber. I did so, and with considerable talking

we got the Indians to accompany us to Ogden City. Still, they felt very

warlike and stubborn, being unwilling to give up their arms.

In the midst of the parley, the three men from Salt Lake City returned

to that place, and the Indians were allowed to go with their arms

across the Ogden River and camp among the willows near Mound Fort. On

December 1st we went after them, finding them so hostile that we had

to make a show of arms before they would submit to our proposition of

distributing them among the whites, but when we brought a squad of

armed men they very reluctantly and sullenly complied, so we marched

them back to Ogden City, to a location on Main Street, near where the

old tithing office stood. Almost every man that had side arms was

called to mingle among the Indians, so that each man could command a

warrior by disarming him by force if he refused to surrender his arms

at the command of the major, which command I was required to repeat

in the Indian dialect. At the word, each man was to take hold of an

Indian's gun, and I was to tell the aborigines to surrender; but there

was not a man who obeyed the order, for what reason I do not know. I

then went through the crowd of Indians and took every weapon with my

own hands. The white men took them from me, and they were stored in the

tithing office, a guard being placed over them.

Just then a young Indian was observed on horseback, going northward

as fast as his horse could carry him. Some one said, "There goes that

Indian boy to warn a camp over by Bingham Fort!" Major Moore had one of

the fastest animals in the county; he ordered me to "take her and beat

the boy into camp, or run her to death. Don't spare horseflesh. Call

out the citizens and disarm every Indian you find."

I obeyed the order, and found a small party of Indians camped in the

center of what was called Bingham Fort. Just as the Indian boy reached

the camp, I entered the east gate of the square, and rode to the west

gate, shouting to the people, "To arms! To arms! Turn out, every man,

and help to disarm the Indians!" Men turned out quickly and surrounded

the camp. I succeeded in reaching the west gate just in time to wheel

and grab a big Ute's gun as he was trying to pass me. He held to it

firmly, and both struggled with a death-like grip. We looked each other

squarely in the eyes, with a determined expression. At last his eyes

dropped, and his gun was in my possession. He was full of wrath and a

desire for vengeance. I found him to be one of the strongest men I had

ever grappled with anywhere.

I next turned to the camp and disarmed all the Indians in it, placed

their weapons under guard and sent them to Ogden, then vainly tried

to talk the red men into reconciliation. I next returned to Ogden,

and there found the whites and Indians on the streets, the latter as

discontented as ever. The major and I tried to pacify them, but they

were very stubborn and sullen. At last the chief's brother said, "Here

are my wife, my children, my horses and everything that I have. Take

it all and keep it, only give me back my gun and let me go free. I

will cast all the rest away. There is my child," pointing to a little

three-year-old, "take it." The little innocent held up its hands and

cried for the father to take it, but he frowned and looked at it as

with a feeling of disgust, saying, "Go away. You are not mine, for I

have thrown you away, and will not have you any more."

This spirit was but a reflex of that which animated the whole band;

"for," said they, "we are only squaws now. We cannot hunt or defend our

families. We are not anybody now." But finally, though very sullenly,

they went home with the whites and pitched their tents in the back

yards. To us it did seem hard to have them feel so bad, but they had no

means of support for the winter, the citizens could not afford to have

their stock killed off and their fences burned, and it was the better

policy to feed the Indians and have them under control. They could husk

corn, chop wood, help do chores, and be more comfortable than if left

to roam; but for all that, they were deprived of that broad liberty to

which they and their fathers before them had been accustomed, therefore

they felt it most keenly. As I was the only white man who could talk

much with them, I was kept pretty busy laboring with them.

In the evening of December 3rd the Indians had a letter from Governor

Young. I read and interpreted it to them. Then for the first time they

seemed reconciled to their situation. Their chief was filled with the

spirit of approval of the course that had been taken with them, and he

preached it long and strong. After that, the Indians and the citizens

got along very well together, and I continued teaching and preaching to

the former.

December 5th I took up school and taught the Indian language, or rather

the Shoshone dialect. I had about thirty male adults attending. Brother

George W. Hill, who afterwards became the noted Shoshone interpreter in

Weber County, was one of them.

I was very much prospered that winter, purchased a city lot and quarter

of another on Main Street, fenced the lot, closed my trading with the

Indians, and settled with D. H. Wells for the goods I had had.

CHAPTER XLVI.

ANOTHER MISSION TO THE INDIANS--START FOR THE SHOSHONE

CAMP--DIFFICULTIES OF TRAVEL--NEAR THE CROWS AND BLACKFEET--A DREAM

GIVES WARNING OF DANGER--DISCOVER A LARGE BODY OF INDIANS--NO

OPPORTUNITY OF ESCAPE--RIDE INTO THE CAMP OF A HUNTING AND WAR

PARTY--MEET CHIEF WASHAKIE--A DAY'S MARCH--SITUATION CRITICAL--HOLD A

COUNCIL--PRESENT THE BOOK OF MORMON--ALL BUT WASHAKIE SPEAK AGAINST US

AND THE BOOK--AWAITING THE CHIEF'S DECISION.

AT a general conference held in Salt Lake City, April 6, 1855, I was

again called to go east among the Indians, to labor with and for them.

I was appointed by President Brigham Young to take the presidency of

the mission among the Shoshones. At this call I hastened to provide

as comfortably as possible for my family, and to fit myself for the

mission assigned me.

I set out on May 8, 1855, in company with four other Elders, going

east via Salt Lake City. I drove one of the two teams, to pay for the

hauling of my baggage, as I had no team of my own. On the 10th we

reached Salt Lake City, and left the same day. On the 11th we overtook

another wagon and two of our fellow-missionaries. We arrived at Fort

Supply on the 17th, having had a pleasant trip. We found seven Elders

planting the crop. On the 18th we joined them in the work of plowing

and seeding, and repairing the stockade and fences. On the 29th, eight

of us fitted up a four-horse team and wagon and six saddle horses

and started for the Shoshone camps, which we had heard were on the

headwaters of either the Green or the Snake River. On June 1st we came

to a tributary of the Green River, called the Fontenelle. There we

rested one day, then moved camp up to the mouth of the canyon.

On the 3rd of June, E. B. Ward, Joshua Terry and I crossed over the

divide between the Green and Snake Rivers, leaving Elder George W.

Boyd in charge of camp. The three of us went along the western slope,

passing one lodge of friendly Indians. On the 5th we came to Siveadus'

camp of twenty lodges. He and his people were very cool towards us,

so we proceeded to a stream called Piney, and up that to the top of

the divide, from where we could see to the head waters of the Wind

River. Having been told that Washakie and his camp were somewhere on

the headwaters of Horse Creek, we made for that point, traveling over

snowdrifts that we supposed were fifty feet deep. The descent was very

steep, and in some places rather dangerous. That night our coffee

basins, that were left standing half or two-thirds full of water, had

become frozen solid; and the weather seemed seasonable for Christmas.

We suffered much with cold until 10 o'clock a.m., on the 7th of June.

We turned northeast, and came onto Horse Creek, camping just below

its mouth, under a high, steep bluff, in a fine grove of cottonwoods.

Everything seemed deathly still. We were in the borders of the Crow

and Blackfeet Indians' country, with jaded horses, so that if we were

discovered it would be impossible to escape. We began to feel a little

concern for our scalps, for we were aware that both the Crows and the

Blackfeet were hostile. We gathered our wood, taking care that no

branch or anything connected with our fire would make much blaze or

smoke, lest by it we should be discovered. Everything being placed in

the best possible position for flight or fight, as might seem best if

emergency should arise, we rested there that night; and something told

us we should not go farther north, but that south should be our course

in the morning.

Early the following morning, about 3 o'clock, I dreamed that I saw a

large band of Indians come down and pitch camp on the creek above us.

I was so forcibly impressed that I awoke the other two men, and told

them I felt confident that the dream was true, and that we would prove

it at daylight. They agreed with me, so I told them to make as dark a

fire as was possible, and to get breakfast, while I would go on the

high bluff that overlooked camp and the country adjacent, where I would

watch everything that moved, and if there were friends or foes in the

country we would see them or their lights before they should see ours.

We all arose at once, the others preparing the meal and saddling the

horses ready for a hasty move, while I went up on the bluff and there

kept a sharp lookout until the dawn. At the first streaks of daylight I

saw a blue smoke creeping up through the willows, perhaps a mile and a

half above me, then another and another, until it was plain there was

a camp of Indians just where I had dreamed they were. Soon the tops of

lodges appeared, then a band of ponies was driven up. By this time it

was fairly daylight.

I reported to the others what I had seen, and we took breakfast. By the

time the sun cast his earliest rays over the landscape, we were in the

saddle. Then came the question, what shall we do? To flee was folly,

for it was not likely that we would escape the ever vigilant eye of

the red man, in an open country like that was. We decided to ride out

boldly on the open bench, and go straight to their camp. No sooner had

we done so than we were discovered, and some twenty or more warriors

started to encircle us, but we rode direct for the camp without showing

any concern.

Soon we were completely surrounded by a score of armed warriors in full

costume of war paint; as these closed in their circle, they saluted us

with a war-whoop. Some had "green" scalps hanging from their bridle

bits, while others had them suspended from their surcingles. As the

warriors drew nearer to us it became evident that they were of the

Shoshone tribe, but we could not recognize any one of them, and they

did not appear to recognize us. When we spoke to them and offered to

shake hands, they shook their heads and pointed us to the camp, while

they proudly escorted us there, some going before us and clearing the

way up to the lodge of Washakie, their chief, who, with some of his

leading men, stood waiting to receive us. As we rode up, Washakie and

his associates stepped forward, and in a very friendly manner shook

hands. By gestures they said, "We are moving camp, and you will go

and camp with us tonight. Then we will hear what you have to say.

We fell in with a war party of Crows and Blackfeet yesterday, and

defeated them, and now we are fleeing to a safe place for our women

and children, lest they get reinforcements and come upon us and our

families;" then with a motion, the chief said, "Forward," and soon the

whole band was on the move.

We estimated that the Indians numbered about three thousand all told,

and there was a pony for every soul; they were well supplied with

rifles, Colt's revolvers, bows, arrows, shields and some cutlasses,

and large, heavy knives. They were excellently mounted, and their

discipline could not well be improved for the country they were

passing over and the force they were most likely to fall in with.

Their flanking party was so arranged as to act as a front guard, and

at the same time drive all the game into a circle and thence into a

second circle, so that everything, down to the smallest chipmunk and

squirrel, was bagged. This was over a strip of country about eight

miles by thirty; and the pack of sagehens and squirrels that was

brought into camp was astonishing. The old and middle-aged men formed

the rear guard, while the whole female portion of the camp drove the

pack animals. The chief and his most confidential advisers rode just in

front of these, and we were called to be a part of the escort.

When all was on the move, the camp made quite a formidable appearance.

It looked to us as if the shrubbery on our way had changed suddenly

into a moving army, what with people and ponies all moving up hill and

down, over the rolling country, to the south, between the high Snake

and Wind River ranges of the great Rocky Mountains. We thought of

ancient Israel, of the Ten Tribes coming from the north country, and of

the promises that had been made to the Indians by the prophets of their

forefathers.

To us this was a great day of thought and meditation, for at times it

seemed to us that we could see the opening glories of a better day, and

could almost declare, "Now is the dawn of the day of Israel," for we

had a letter from that modern Moses, President Brigham Young, to read

and interpret to the red men, and also the Book of Mormon to introduce

to them that very evening, for the first time; and the question

uppermost in our minds was as to whether they would receive it or not,

for there were many hard looking countenances in the throng, and we

could see plainly from their frowns that they were not at all friendly

to us.

When we had traveled till about 3 o'clock p.m., camp was made in

a lovely valley. The chief's lodge was first pitched, clean robes

spread, and we were invited to take seats thereon. Our horses, packs

and all, were taken charge of by the women of the camp, just where we

dismounted, and we had no more to do with our animals until we had use

for them next day.

A little fire having been built in the center of the lodge, the

councilors began to file into their places, each very quietly shaking

hands with us, some of them very coldly. When all was quiet, the chief

said, by gesture, "Now tell us what you have to say. Tell it straight,

and no crooked talk, for we do not want any lies, but the truth." It

seemed to us that they were ready for square work, so, with as few

words as possible, we told Washakie we had a letter from the big Mormon

captain to him and his people. Then he said, "Tell us what it says,"

and between the three of us we could tell him every word.

I am sorry that I have not at hand the full text of the letter, but

it was a very friendly document, and, so far as I can now remember,

told them that President Young had sent us to Washakie and his people

as their friends, that we were truthful and good men, who would tell

them many good things about how to live in peace with all people;

that President Young and the Mormon people were true friends to the

Indian race, and wished them to be our friends, that we might live in

peace with each other, for it would not be many years before all the

game would be killed off or driven out of the country, and the white

men would want to come and settle in the land; that if the Indians

would settle down and build houses like the white man, and cultivate

the land as the white man did, when the game was gone they and their

families would have something to eat. President Young proposed to

furnish seed and tools, and some good men to show and help the Indians

to put in their crops. The letter further said that after a while,

when we understood each other better, we would tell them about their

forefathers, and about God; that we had a book that told a great many

things regarding the Great Spirit's dealings with their forefathers,

and what He would do for them and their children. Then we presented the

Book of Mormon to Washakie, while his lefthand man filled the pipe and

drew a rude figure of the sun, in the ashes of the smouldering fire;

he also muttered a few unintelligible words, smote his chest with his

hand, took a whiff or two from the pipe, passed it to the next man on

his left, and reached for the book; he opened it and said it was no

good for them--that it was only good for the white man.

In that same order the pipe and book passed around the circle

twenty-one times, and each time the Indian made a new figure in the

ashes, each representing a different planet. During the whole time only

one man spoke at once. One said, "This book is of no use to us. If the

Mormon captain has nothing better to send than this, we had better send

it, his letter, and these men, back to him, and tell him that they

are no good to us, that we want powder, lead and caps, sugar, coffee,

flour, paints, knives, and blankets, for those we can use. Send these

men away to their own land."

Another of the council, when it came to his turn, said, "We have no use

for this book. If the paper were all cut out and thrown away, we could

sew up the ends and put a strap on it, and it would do for the white

man's money bag; but we have no use for it, for we have no money to

put in it." He could not understand what good it was to the Shoshone,

and said, "Let the white man take it and go home, and come back with

something that we can eat, or use to hunt with."

These were the sentiments expressed by the members of the council. But

Washakie had not yet spoken, and we anxiously awaited his decision.

CHAPTER XLVII.

WASHAKIE'S BOLD ATTITUDE--TELLS HIS COUNCILORS THEY ARE FOOLS--SAYS

THE WHITE MEN, WHO ARE WISE, HAVE BOOKS--TELLS THE TRADITION OF

HOW THE INDIANS FELL INTO DARKNESS--GREAT SPIRIT ANGRY AT THE RED

MAN--ADVOCATES THAT THE INDIANS LIVE LIKE WHITE PEOPLE--HIS POWERFUL

SPEECH GAINS THE DAY FOR US--SHOSHONE TRADITION--WE START HOME--A

HUNGRY TRIP--RETURN TO THE INDIANS, FINDING THEM SULLEN--FOURTH OF JULY

CELEBRATION AT FORT SUPPLY--RETURN HOME.

THE book passed around the entire circle without a solitary friend,

and came back to our hands. The chief reached for it, and when he got

hold of the volume he looked at and opened it, turned leaf after leaf

as readily as though he had been accustomed to books, then straightened

to his full height as he sat there, and looked around the circle. "Are

you all done talking?" he asked. Seeing every man with his hand on his

mouth, he spoke: "You are all fools; you are blind, and cannot see;

you have no ears, for you do not hear; you are fools, for you do not

understand. These men are our friends. The great Mormon captain has

talked with our Father above the clouds, and He told the Mormon captain

to send these good men here to tell us the truth, and not a lie. They

have not got forked tongues. They talk straight, with one tongue, and

tell us that after a few more snows the buffalo will be gone, and if

we do not learn some other way to get something to eat, we will starve

to death. Now, we know that is the truth, for this country was once

covered with buffalo, elk, deer and antelope, and we had plenty to eat,

and also robes for bedding, and to make lodges. But now, since the

white man has made a road across our land, and has killed off our game,

we are hungry, and there is nothing for us eat. Our women and children

cry for food, and we have no meat to give them. The time was when our

Father who lives above the clouds loved our fathers who lived long ago,

and His face was bright, and He talked with our fathers. His face shone

upon them, and their skins were white like the white man's. Then they

were wise, and wrote books, and the Great Father talked good to them

but after a while our people would not hear Him, and they quarreled and

stole and fought, until the Great Father got mad, because His children

would not hear Him talk. Then He turned His face away from them, and

His back to them and that caused a shade to come over them, and that

is why our skin is black and our minds dark." Stripping up his shirt

sleeve, he continued: "That darkness came because the Great Father's

back was towards us, and now we cannot see as the white man sees. We

can make a bow and arrows, but the white man's mind is strong and

light." Picking up a Colt's revolver, he went on: "The white man can

make this, and a little thing that he carries in his pocket, so that

he can tell where the sun is on a dark day and when it is night he can

tell when it will come daylight. This is because the face of the Father

is towards him, and His back is towards us. But after a while the Great

Father will quit being mad, and will turn His face towards us. Then

our skin will be light." Here the chief showed his bare arm again, and

said: "Then our mind will be strong like the white man's, and we can

make and use things like he does."

The chief next drew a strong contrast between the Indian's way of

living and the white man's, telling his people that the mode of the

white man was far preferable to that of the Indian. He also told them

that the Great Father had directed "the big Mormon captain to send

these men to us to talk good talk, and they have talked good, and made

our hearts feel very glad, and we feel that it is good for them to come

and shake hands. They are our friends, and we will be their friends.

Their horses may drink our water, and eat our grass, and they may sleep

in peace in our land. We will build houses by their houses, and they

will teach us to till the soil as they do. Then, when the snow comes

and the game is fat, we can leave our families by the Mormons, and go

and hunt, and not be afraid of our families being disturbed by other

Indians, or by anybody else, for the Mormons are a good people. Let

these three good men go, and find a good place for us to live, close

by where they live; and after a while we will come, and they will show

us how to build houses, for they are our good and true friends, and

we wish they would go home, and bring some blankets, powder and lead,

knives, paints, beads, flour, sugar and coffee, to trade for our furs,

pelts and robes."

Washakie spoke thus with great power and wisdom, while his wise old

councilors sat with their heads bowed, and their hands over their

mouths, only grunting assent to the strong points of his powerful

speech, of which this account is only a brief synopsis.

No vote was taken, but seemingly every man gave his assent to the

chief's decision, by a grunt of approval. Then each man quietly

withdrew, and a kettle of boiled antelope meat was set before us. The

chief had a separate dish put before him. Then we retired for the night.

The camp was almost destitute of food, notwithstanding the squirrels

and sagehens that had been taken the day before. The whole camp was

hungry, and the last morsel of our provisions was gone, so next

morning, June 9th, we left camp, having a very scant breakfast of meat;

but we had introduced the Book of Mormon, and had had the pleasure of

having it received favorably by Washakie, the great Shoshone chief, and

his council, as the history of their forefathers. The chief said the

wolves had written that book when they were men, but had since been

turned into wolves; that being an ancient tradition among the Shoshones.

We rode hard all day the day that we left the Shoshone camp, and at

sundown camped by a mountain leek spring, without a bite to eat. Nor

had we had anything to eat at dinner time; so we made our supper of

mountain leeks. Next morning, the 10th, we had leeks for breakfast,

and at sunrise we were in the saddle, and on our way back to where we

had left the other brethren. I was on the lead, with a double-barreled

shotgun before me. We had not gone very far before a blue mountain

pheasant flew up from under my horse's head, and lit in the trail a few

yards in front. I shot it so quickly that I never thought of my horse

being frightened. Another man jumped from his saddle, and had the bird

skinned before the blood had stopped flowing, while the other built a

fire. The pheasant was broiled and eaten before the animal heat could

have gone out of it, if it had been left where it was shot. Then we

traveled all that our horses could bear until 3 o'clock p.m., when we

came to a flock of sagehens. As I was still on the lead, I shot three

of them before the rest fled. We broiled one of them, and soon devoured

it, as we had the other bird, then continued our journey till evening.

As we traveled along by a small stream of water, I saw a fish about

eighteen inches long, and almost as quick as thought shot at and

stunned it, so that it turned up at the top of the water long enough

for an Indian boy who was traveling with us to shoot an arrow through

it. With the arrow sticking through it, the fish shot up to where the

creek widened out, and I, thinking the water only knee-deep, plunged in

up to my hips. I caught the fish, we broiled it for supper, and ate it

as we had done the birds and leeks--without salt or pepper.

On the 11th we had a bird for breakfast, and traveled till afternoon,

counting that we had journeyed about one hundred and twenty-five miles,

and reached our camp, where we found all well. The boys soon spread

a white man's meal before us, and each of us did our part without a

grumble. Then we made a short drive, and on the 12th pushed forward on

our way to Fort Supply, reaching that place on the 14th. We found all

well, and in good spirits.

June 15th we loaded two wagons with a large assortment of Indian goods,

as we had agreed to meet the Indians with the merchandise, in twenty

days, on the Labarg, a tributary of Green River. On the 20th we reached

that stream and as there were no Indians there I sent Joshua Terry, E.

Barney Ward, and my cousin James M. Brown, to inform the red men that

we were on time as agreed. It seemed that after we left them they had

quarreled and divided into three parties, and came very near righting

among themselves. They were therefore very different in spirit to when

we left them. At last they began to come and lodge in three distinct

camps around our wagons.

On the 28th, all the Indians were very sullen and did not seem to be

the same people they were a few days before. Knowing something of their

nature, we turned out about seventy-five dollars' worth of provisions

and other goods as a present. Still that did not seem to satisfy them;

they wanted all we had. Finally I told them that we had done as we had

agreed to do, and if they wished to trade we were ready. They continued

to manifest a very mean spirit, and we were not able to sell more than

five hundred dollars' worth of goods out of a stock of three thousand

dollars.

On June 30th we left three of our party with the Indians, while the

rest of us returned to Fort Supply with our stock of goods. The

Indians felt very bad because we had not given them all we had. It was

July 4th when we arrived at the fort, and found the brethren there

celebrating the glorious Independence Day. I was quite ill, but the

brethren insisted on my taking the lead of the ceremonies. That being

my birthday, I accepted the offer, and we had a very enjoyable time.

From July 5th to the 18th we continued our farm labors. Then E. B. Ward

and three or four other men, including myself, set out on a little

exploring trip among the hills. We crossed over to Henry's Fork, then

returned to Smith's Fork, where we selected a place for the Indians

to settle when they saw fit. Having thus completed our obligations to

them, we returned to the fort, and continued our labors until August

1st, when we had a recruit of twelve men sent to us, under command of

John Phelps. About August 3rd or 4th I rebaptized all the Elders, and

baptized three of the first Shoshone women that ever came into the

Church. Their names were Mary, Sally Ward, and Corger. I also baptized

a young Indian man named Corsetsy. From the 5th to the 7th, the Indians

came and went, attended our meetings regularly, and felt very friendly

and somewhat inquisitive. We gave them a few presents. They said

they were well pleased to have us locate in their country, and were

satisfied with the places we had selected for them to settle and live

upon as we did. On the 7th of August, Joshua Terry and I started for

Salt Lake City, each with an ox team and two wagons loaded with furs,

pelts and robes. We arrived in the city on the 11th, and reported our

success to Governor Young, who was pleased with our efforts. We also

settled for the goods we had had of him.

On the 13th I started for Ogden City, and reached there the next day,

meeting my wife and firstborn child, a daughter, who was born August

10th.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

AFFAIRS AT HOME--START FOR FORT SUPPLY--ILLNESS OF MYSELF AND

FAMILY--GIFT OF HEALING--TROUBLE WITH INDIANS AT FORT SUPPLY--TURBULENT

RED MEN--I HELP ONE OFF MY BED--THEY PERSIST IN TAKING OR DESTROYING

OUR PROPERTY--WE STOP THEM--ONE ATTEMPTS TO KILL ME--INDIANS

RETIRE FROM THE FORT--ALMOST A CONFLICT--I CHECK THE WHITE MEN

FROM SHOOTING--INDIANS WITHDRAW--WE SEND TO GOVERNOR YOUNG FOR

ASSISTANCE--OUR STOCK AND GUARDS DRIVEN IN--INDIAN AGENT APPEARS WITH

ANNUITIES--THE SAVAGES SUBMIT--WE GUARD DAY AND NIGHT--INDIANS MORE

PEACEFUL--REINFORCEMENTS ARRIVE FROM THE GOVERNOR--MATTERS QUIET DOWN.

AUGUST 14, 1855, I went to Salt Lake City, and on September 3rd

returned home. On the 5th my family were taken sick with cholera morbus.

Notwithstanding this sickness, I started on my return to Fort Supply,

for it was the faith of myself and family that if I went to my mission

they would be healed. Just as I mounted my horse to start out, my

uncle, Captain James Brown, came along and said, "Jimmie, are you going

off and leaving your family sick?"

I told him, "Yes, sir."

Said he, "You are cold-hearted, and I would not do it."

When I told him that they with me believed that if I would go to my

missionary labors they would be healed sooner than if I should neglect

my duties in that line, he, with uplifted hands, said, "Jim, you're

right. Go ahead, and God bless you. Your family shall be healed,

and not suffer. I will go in and pray for them." He did so, and I

afterwards learned that they were healed the same hour that I proceeded

on my journey. I did not see them again till December 20th, when they

told me that they had not been sick one day after I left.

Although when I started out I was very ill myself with the same

trouble, and had to call at a friend's and get a dose of painkiller,

and take a rest for an hour or two before I could proceed on my way to

Salt Lake City, yet on the 13th I started for Fort Supply, and overtook

the two wagons which had preceded me the day before. I travelled with

them until the 17th, then left them and went on horseback forty-five

miles to the fort. I was very sick for five days, so that I had to keep

my bed part of the time. I found all well and the wheat harvest ready

for the laborers, a heavy frost having injured the crops considerably.

On Friday, September 28th, I sent four men to invite Washakie to the

fort, and on the 29th we learned that Chief Tibunduets (white man's

child) had just returned with his band from Salt Lake City. October 1st

I sent Isaac Bullock and Amenzo Baker to visit him. They found him and

all of his band feeling very bad and revengeful.

October 10th Tibunduets and his band threw down our fencing and came

charging up through our field, riding over wheat shocks, and singing

war songs. At the same time the warriors from a camp above came into

the fort with their weapons in their hands. Our men tried to be

friendly and talked peace to them, but it was not what they wanted.

They said they were "heap mad," for when they were in Salt Lake City

the big Mormon captain had written with blood on their children, and

a number of these had died while they were among the Mormons. These

Indians refused the seats offered them, but jumped on the beds and

behaved very saucily, saying they wanted pay for the death of their

children who had died on the Mormon lands. Of course, we could not

afford to give presents of that kind, and their demands were rejected.

Three of the hostile Indians went to my room, and one engaging me in

conversation, the other two jumped on my bed and stretched themselves

full length on it. My cousin James M. Brown called my attention to

their rude actions, and I turned around and told them to get off my

bed, but they answered with a contemptuous laugh. I told them a second

time, and they sneered again. I stepped to the side of the bed and told

them the third time, and as they refused, I jerked one of them off the

bed so quickly that it surprised him, and the other one thought he

preferred to get off without that kind of help, and did so quickly.

Tibunduets made heavy demands on us, which we could not comply with. We

told him that we were not prepared to do his bidding, and he replied,

"You're a wolf and a liar, and you will steal." Then the Indians turned

their horses into our fields among our shocks of wheat and oats, while

their women went to digging and sacking our potatoes, the Indians

throwing down our fences in many places and ordering our men out of the

fields. They told us to leave their lands, and continued their insults

until I sent some men out to order their women out of the potato

patch. The squaws only laughed at our men, who returned and reported

the results. Then I went out myself, and as I passed a brush fence, I

caught up a piece of brush and started towards the potato diggers, who

screamed and ran away before I got near enough to use the stick.

I returned to the house and soon was followed by two young braves, who

rode up in front of the door and called for the captain. I answered

in person, when the braves said, "You heap fight squaw, you no fight

Injun." They continued their insulting words and threats of violence,

until at last I ordered them out of the fort, upon which one of them

drew his bow and pointed his arrow at me, within three feet of my

breast. At that one of my men pushed the horse's head between me and

the arrow. At the same time Amenzo Baker handed me a Colt's revolver,

and another man covered the Indian with a revolver.

At that movement the Indians started for the big gate, and as there was

quite a number of warriors inside the fort I called my men out with

their guns, for the Indians seemed determined on bloodshed. They rushed

outside, and the white men followed them to where a young chief sat

on his horse, just outside of the gate. There must have been a signal

given to the camp above, for the warriors came running with their

rifles in hand, until seventy-five to one hundred warriors were on the

ground, while there were only about forty white men. Everybody wanted

to say something, and in the confusion that followed some ten or twelve

men leveled their guns to shoot, being in such close quarters that they

struck each other as they brought their weapons into position.

At that moment I sprang under the guns and held some of them up, and

forbade the men to shoot. This act seemed to please the young chief,

and he commanded his men to desist. I ordered my men back and into

their bastions, and to bar the gate. This done, I took a position in

the watchtower, where I talked with their chief through a porthole, and

told him that we were in a position to do them harm, but did not wish

to do so, yet they must withdraw in peace and not molest our property,

for we should defend it and ourselves to the best of our ability. I

said that if they would withdraw peacefully we would not interfere with

them, but to that they would not agree. After considerable parleying,

however, they did withdraw to their camp among the cottonwood timber

and willows on the creek, and built large fires, around which they

danced and sang war songs the greater part of the night, while we made

every possible preparation for defense.

As captain of the fort, I wrote a despatch to the governor and

superintendent of Indian affairs, stating the facts. Then we covered

with blankets a slab bridge that had to be crossed near the gates, to

deaden the sound of the horse's feet as he went out, and a clever young

man by the name of Benjamin Roberts speeded away with the note to Salt

Lake City.

On the 11th all was quiet. A few Indian lodges remained near our fort,

and the women and children were around them as usual, so Isaac Bullock

and I went down to learn what the situation was. We found some of them

friendly, while others were very sulky. The main part of the Indian

camp had gone down the creek, and we thought it safe to turn our stock

out under a mounted guard, with one man in the watchtower to keep a

lookout. About 2 p.m. the man at the watchtower sounded an alarm,

saying he saw a great dust in the north; and a few minutes later he

shouted that a large body of horsemen was in sight, coming rapidly from

the north, while our horse guards were coming with our band of horses,

hastening with all speed to the fort. Immediately every man was called

to take a position for prompt action. I occupied a commanding place,

giving instructions to the men not to shoot without my order, and then

not unless they felt sure of making every shot tell. They were told to

see that every tube was filled with powder, "for here they come," said

I; "keep cool boys, for it is a close race with our men and horses."

It was a question of which would reach the fort first, they or the

Indians. The race was so close that the guards with our band just

succeeded in getting in with the animals in time to close the gates

against the Indian ponies, whose riders called out, "Open the gates!"

They were answered with a positive "No! not until you give up your

arms." They had three mountain men in their party of over one hundred

warriors, who shouted that they would be responsible if we would let

them in, for the Indian agent, George Armstrong, was a short distance

in the rear, with two wagons loaded with goods for the Indians.

As I had not been advised of the agent's approach from any other

source, I still refused them admittance. Soon the agent's wagons were

in sight, and some of his party came up and told the Indians they would

have to give up their arms before they could enter the fort, for the

captain was determined not to allow them in with their arms. At last

they submitted, and the gate was opened just wide enough for one man to

pass through. I stepped outside, the Indians handed their arms to me, I

passed them to the other men, and they placed them on a part of a wagon

sheet. Then the weapons were bound up strongly and taken away and put

in my room, and a guard placed over them. The Indians were then told

that they could enter the fort and pass directly into the blockhouse,

but would not be permitted to wander around in the fort.

About this time the agent's wagons rolled up and were hastily unloaded.

Then a friendly smoke took place, and a short council, in which the

Indians agreed that they would withdraw in peace and go to their

hunting grounds, and would not molest us any more. They said we might

remain on their lands let our stock eat grass and drink water in peace;

that we might cultivate the lands and use what timber we wanted, and

that they would be our friends, and we their friends. The goods the

agent had for the Indians were then turned over to them.

On the 13th the red men brought in a report that the Sioux Indians

had killed one of Jack Robinson's beeves. This they did to screen

themselves, for it was they and not the Sioux who had killed the

animal. The agent gave them a beef ox, and they moved down the creek.

On the 14th the agent and party returned home, and we kept up a guard

day and night to prevent being surprised by the renegades of the Indian

camps; for we had evidence of their treachery. We had given them back

their arms, and when they obtained all we had for them they said the

white man was "heap good, Shoshone no kay nabatint Mormon." (Shoshones

do not want to fight Mormons.) They packed and left, feeling quite

pleased.

General R. T. Burton with a party of twenty-five men were met at Fort

Bridger on the 16th, by myself and a small party. On the 17th I went

with them to Fort Supply, while they concluded to send out a scout

to ascertain whether the Indians really had crossed the Green River

or not, thinking that if they did we could be satisfied that all was

right. When our scouts returned and reported that all had crossed the

river and gone farther on, General Burton and command returned home,

while myself and men did up our fall work at Fort Supply.

CHAPTER XLIX.

START HOME FROM FORT SUPPLY--CAMP ALONE AT NEEDLE ROCK--AWAKENED BY

MY HORSE--SURROUNDED BY WOLVES--FLASH POWDER ALL NIGHT TO KEEP OFF THE

WILD BEASTS--REACH HOME--SUPPLIES SHORT--HARDSHIPS OF A GRASSHOPPER

YEAR--GETTING MY CATTLE OUT OF A CANYON--PERILS OF BEING CAUGHT IN THE

SNOW--GREAT SUFFERING--BREAKING A SNOW ROAD--BUSINESS AFFAIRS.

THE writer left Fort Supply December 14, 1855, and started for his home

in Ogden City on horseback and alone, having placed Isaac Bullock in

charge of affairs at the fort. The first night out I camped at a place

called Needle Rock, just east of Yellow Creek. There I selected a spot

where the feed was good, picketed out my horse, set my saddle over the

picket pin, and spread my blankets so as to lay my head on the saddle,

lest the coyotes should cut my riata and turn loose the horse.

As I was alone and yet in an Indian country, I did not make a fire, but

ate a cold lunch, rolled up in my blankets, and soon dropped to sleep,

to be awakened by my horse snorting and kicking. The animal brushed his

nose on my head before I was sufficiently awake to understand what he

meant by his actions; but no sooner was I aroused than I found that he

was surrounded by a pack of large, grey wolves which were growling and

snapping at his heels and at each other. The night was so dark that I

could plainly see the fierce eyes of my ravenous enemies shining in the

darkness all around me.

I had a good Colt's revolver, but having heard that if wolves smelled

blood when they were gathered in such a pack they would attack man

or beast, I reserved my fire. I remembered having heard that these

wild beasts were afraid of the flash and smell of burning powder, so

I spread some gunpowder on the leathers of my saddle, and with flint

and steel struck fire, and in that way flashed powder by intervals all

night. The wolves would run off, but return in a short time, as if

determined to have flesh. My horse was too weak to attempt to flee,

and as for myself I had become so chilled and benumbed that it was

with some difficulty that I could keep up the flashes till daylight,

at which time the pack of wolves went away, leaving horse and rider

to resume their sufficiently hazardous journey without such unwelcome

company.

I crossed over to the head of Echo Canyon, where I found a yoke of oxen

that some emigrants had left to die. As the animals had got rested

up, I thought I could drive them in and save their lives, but had to

abandon them in Round Valley, Weber Canyon. Then, on a poor, jaded

horse, I pursued my way, arriving at home about 9 p.m. on December 20th.

[IMAGE: SURROUNDED BY A PACK OF HUNGRY WOLVES]

I found all well, but winter supplies of food so short that I sold the

only respectable suit of clothes I had for breadstuff. I had about worn

out all the rest of my clothing when I was in the Indian country, so

that I had but one old flannel shirt left, and that I had made out of

two old ones. I had one pair of buckskin pants, a rough beaver cap and

a pair of moccasins.

It will be remembered by the early residents of Utah that the year

1855 was a grasshopper year, as well as a season of great drought, and

therefore one of the hardest years that many of the people had ever

experienced, both for man and beast. Hundreds of horses and cattle

starved to death, and many of the people barely escaped the same sad

fate. I could do no better than to let my horses go out on the range to

die of starvation and cold, and turn my hand to anything I could get to

do to earn an honest dollar.

Soon after arriving home I was called to devote a portion of my time in

traveling from settlement to settlement, and preaching to the people;

also in visiting the Indian camps along the Weber River and preaching

and talking to them, for it was a terrible winter for the Indians.

Before entering upon these duties, however, I returned to where I had

left my cattle to rest for a few days, and where the feed was tolerably

good. When I started out it commenced to storm and by the time I

reached the cattle the snow was eighteen inches deep.

Before I could get out of the canyon with the animals the snow was two

and a half feet deep. My horse gave out, and I had to travel on foot,

breaking the trail and leading the horse a few rods, then going back

and driving up the cattle. I continued these efforts until myself and

stock were exhausted. When I tried to start a fire, my matches were

all wet. I had left my rifle and shotpouch at home, and in the pouch

were my faithful flint and steel, which had never failed me. But for

the snow, the night was total darkness. At last I reached a clump of

cottonwood trees, and for a time I thought I would die of exhaustion

and thirst. I knew that if I ceased to exert myself I would chill to

death. Finally it occurred to my mind to tear off a piece of my shirt,

roll it up, hold it in one hand, and with my revolver shoot through it

and start a fire. I found a large sagebrush, and from it gathered the

dry bark. This I wrapped around the roll of shirt, then fired a shot

through it, and in that way succeeded in starting a flame. As there

was plenty of wood handy, I built and kept up a large fire during the

night. The river banks were so steep that it was impossible in the

darkness to get water to drink. I was driven almost frantic by thirst,

but finally thought to take off my heavy leggings, place them in a

position so that they would form a kind of basin, and cover them with

snow, so the fire would melt it to water in the leather bowl. In that

way I obtained water and quenched my terrible thirst. My blankets and

everything I had on had been soaked thoroughly with the melting snow,

but I succeeded in drying all during the night.

The dawn of day was welcome indeed, but my troubles were not yet over,

for I found my animals standing in snow to their necks, and they would

not move out of their tracks only as I broke an opening around and

urged them on. The snow was so wet and heavy that it was an awful task

to break a road and get those animals through for the first five miles.

After that the snow was not so deep, and with a very great effort and

hazard of life I succeeded in reaching Ogden, as thankful as I ever was

in my life to get home--to "home, sweet home."

Being once more with my family and friends, I got up my winter wood

and visited the people as a teacher. In the spring I finished a

two-roomed house that I had under way on Main Street. I then moved

into it, preparatory to going to Fort Supply again, but was honorably

released by President Young from further missionary labors in that

part. I rented land, put in corn and potatoes, and spent the fore part

of the summer at farm labor. Having acquired a fourth interest in

three ferries on Green River, I arranged with my three partners, Isaac

Bullock, Louis Robinson and W. Hickman, so that I did not have to go

there, as my health was not very good; hence I remained at Ogden.

CHAPTER L.

CALLED ON A MISSION TO DEEP CREEK INDIANS--SHORT TIME FOR THE

JOURNEY--PREPARE FOR THE TRIP--JOURNEY IN THE DESERT--HORSES

STOLEN--TRAVEL ON FOOT--SAVED FROM PERISHING WITH THIRST--MEET THE

INDIANS--COULD UNDERSTAND AND SPEAK TO THEM--INDIAN AGENT'S OFFER--I

ACT AS INTERPRETER--PREACH TO THE INDIANS--ON THE RETURN TRIP--VISIT

GOVERNOR YOUNG WITH A DELEGATION OF BANNOCK INDIANS.

ON August 22, 1856, I received a letter from President Young, calling

me to take a mission of thirty days, west across the desert, to Deep

Creek, to the Indians in that region. As I did not understand fully

the object of the mission, I thought there was some mistake in the

letter, since the distance that had to be traveled out and back would

be about five hundred miles and I was to preach to a tribe of Indians

I had never seen, much less being able to speak their dialect, and do

it all with only thirty days' rations. To me it was, to say the least,

a singular call; so I went to Salt Lake City August 23rd, to find out

that the letter meant just what it said, no less; only that Geo. W.

Armstrong, an Indian agent from Provo, was going out to distribute some

goods among the Indians, and it would be a good time to send a few

missionaries to preach to the red men.

From Salt Lake City I returned to Ogden and purchased a splendid mare

of widow Ruth Stuart, on credit, promising to pay when I could. On the

27th I joined Mr. Armstrong and twenty-five other men in Salt Lake

City, fitting up for the journey, some as guards to the agent and some

as missionaries. Among those I remember were Seth M. Blair, Oliver

Huntington, Ormus Bates, John Whitney, J. Cooley, Harrison Sagers,

Harrison Sevier, and Peter Conover; there were others whose names I do

not now recall.

The company left the city on August 29th, and traveled through Tooele,

Rush Valley, and over Johnson's Pass into Skull Valley. With five

others of the party, however, I went around by what is now called

Dugway, and met the rest of the company at the springs in Skull Valley.

On September 2nd, we reached Granite Rock, sometimes called Granite

Mountain, as it stands out in the midst of the desert. There the

company camped at some alkali springs, where, with cup and bucket, it

took all night to dip water for the stock. Next morning we found that

the Indians had stolen all the team horses, eight head, so the agent

called on the men to volunteer their saddle horses to take his wagons

across the desert. Among the rest, I let my horse go, and eight of us

set out on foot to cross the desert, while some went after the stolen

stock. Other horsemen pushed across to water, and the teams brought up

the rear.

The route was brushy and rocky, in some places there was heavy sand, in

other parts stiff alkali mud, and much of the time without a sign of a

road. The writer was taken very sick with a severe bowel complaint and

was compelled to turn to one side, so I fell behind my fellow footmen.

The teams lagged in the sand and mud till long after dark. I became so

weak and faint that I could not travel any longer, and I laid down on

the damp ground, so tired and thirsty that it seemed impossible for me

to live until morning without relief. When I had laid down for some

time, I heard my bunkmate, Doc. Woodward, shout that he had found water

and filled his canteen, and was coming back hunting the missed and

needy one. When he got near enough for me to answer him, I did so, and

with a drink I was somewhat revived. I was helped on my friend's horse,

and we proceeded on for about five miles to camp and water. One of the

party gave me a brandy toddy, spread my blankets, and I turned in, a

very grateful sufferer. I was given a cup of coffee, after which I felt

very much relieved, and by morning was ready to resume the journey, the

wagons having come up about 11 p.m. Next morning, September 4th, we

moved up five or six miles, to what was called Fish Springs. There we

found a number of Indians, and the party pitched camp for a few days.

When the animals had been cared for and fires built, the Indians

gathered around in considerable numbers. As they were talking among

themselves, the writer understood and commenced to speak with them

in their own dialect, at which they were surprised and said one to

another, "Who is this man, that talks our talk? He has never been in

our country before." I was no less astonished myself; and I call the

reader's attention now to the peculiar feature of a man being called

to fit himself out with provisions to last him thirty days, travel out

in the desert two hundred and fifty or three hundred miles, and preach

to a tribe of Indians in whose country he had never been and whom he

had never seen before. Yet when the agent's interpreters failed to get

the Indians to understand, the agent asked if I could talk with them. I

told him I had never seen these Indians before that hour, "but," said

I, "I understand them, and you see they understand me." "Yes," said

the agent, but I do not see how it is that you can talk with them. I

have two men employed as interpreters, but they cannot make the Indians

understand. Now if you can make them comprehend what I wish to tell

them, I will pay you three dollars per day from the time that you left

home until you return there."

"I do not know whether I can do your talking or not," was my response

to this proposition. "I came here to preach to this people, and I have

power given me to do it in their own tongue. But I do not know whether

I will be permitted to speak for you or not; if I am, I will talk for

you." "All right," said Mr. Armstrong, "have them form a circle in

front of my wagons, and tell them who I am, and what the great father

at Washington has sent me here for; that I have brought them clothing

and blankets as a present from the great father at Washington, and that

he expects them to be good people and live in peace with each other,

and also with other people, and if they will do so the great father

will send good men to bring more goods to them."

When I told them what the agent wanted, they at once formed a circle as

desired, to the satisfaction of all present. Then the agent distributed

the goods, to the great pleasure of the Indians. He talked very kindly

to them and gave them much good advice. I interpreted what he said, and

then continued to preach to them, telling them about the Book of Mormon

and their forefathers, and many other things of interest to them. I

seemed to have perfect liberty of speech as I desired it, in their

dialect, and they listened attentively to all I had to say.

The next day Seth M. Blair, Peter Conover, Ormus Bates and myself and

four or five other men that belonged to the missionary part of the

camp, employed an Indian guide to travel south around the head of Deep

Creek, to see what natural advantages there were for settlements, but

we failed to find anything inviting until we came to Deep Creek, where

the country seemed quite suitable for stock raising. About the 11th of

September the party returned to the agent's camp, where we again met

with many of the Indians, who wished us to stop and live with them as

their friends, adding, "If you will not stop with us, then tell the big

Mormon captain to send some good Mormon men that will tell the truth

and show us how to make clothes like the white man."

It was the next day, I think, that the party started back to Salt Lake

City, the agent having secured his team horses. We traveled north of

Granite Rock, and around the point of the mountain to the lake, thence

along the shore to Grantsville. We tarried one day with Mr. Cooley, and

partook of the hospitality of himself and family.

After our visit to the Deep Creek Indians, some of them claimed to have

received dreams and visions, in which heavenly messengers appeared and

told them to go into Tooele and call on the Bishops, who would tell

them what to do, and for them to obey the Bishops. Accordingly, scores

of them went to Grantsville and related their story, when they were

told to believe in Christ and repent and be baptized. Many of them

obeyed this advice, and then a missionary was sent out and located

among them.

With our one day's rest at Grantsville, the party continued on to Salt

Lake City, where Mr. Armstrong paid me ninety dollars in cash for my

services as interpreter. I returned home and paid the ninety dollars

on the mare I had purchased on credit for the mission. My labors as

a missionary, however, were still called for, and I visited all the

settlements in Weber County, also the Indian camps, and acted as a

presiding teacher in Ogden City, often being called to arbitrate

differences between the white people and Indians. About that time Snag,

the Bannock Indian chief, and twelve of his prominent men called on me

to accompany them to Salt Lake City to see President Brigham Young on

some business. They said they wished a friendly talk, and to tell some

of their grievances and ask some favors of him. The latter constituted

the greater part of their business. I accompanied them to President

Young's residence, where he received them kindly, furnishing them with

necessary supplies of food and fuel. Next day, after they had had a

very friendly talk with the President, he gave orders to the Bishops

in the northern settlements to supply the Indians' wants as far as

practicable, as it was cheaper to feed than to fight them. Then after

all the complaints of the Bannocks had been satisfactorily adjusted, we

left, they for their homes in the north near Fort Hall, the writer for

Ogden, where I continued my labors.

CHAPTER LI.

UTAH MILITIA ORGANIZED--ELECTED CAPTAIN OF A COMPANY--HEAR OF

JOHNSTON'S ARMY--SCOUTING PARTY SENT OUT--I AM CHOSEN AS GUIDE--TRAVEL

TO THE BEAR LAKE COUNTRY--COLD NIGHTS AND LITTLE FOOD--COMPLAINT IN THE

PARTY--PROVE THAT I AM RIGHT--REACH LOST CREEK--SOME OF THE MEN OBJECT

TO DOUBLE GUARD--A DISCOVERY THAT REMOVES ALL OBJECTIONS--STRIKE THE

TRAIL OF HORSEMEN--PREPARE FOR ACTION--TAKE A CAMP BY SURPRISE--THE

MEN ARE FRIENDS--ARRIVE AT OGDEN--CALLED TO GO ON AN IMPORTANT

ERRAND--TUSSLE WITH AN INDIAN--FAIL IN GETTING DESIRED INFORMATION, AND

RETURN TO OGDEN.

IN the spring of 1857 I rented some land and put in a crop. Soon after

this an order came from Governor Young to the Weber County officials

to organize the militia of the county, which was done. I was elected

captain of the first company of infantry in the Weber militia district.

The company consisted of captain, commissioned and non-commissioned

officers, and one hundred men of the rank and file. Chauncey W. West,

then the Bishop of Weber County, was commissioned general of the

district. He appointed days for drill, and four companies came together

in Ogden City for that service.

At that time we had not learned of threatened danger from any source

except occasional Indian raids; but no sooner had we got properly

organized and ready for self-defense than news came from the east to

Governor Young that an invading army was coming, with hostile threats

against the citizens of Utah.

As the governor had not been officially notified of the approach of

United States troops, his official oath bound him to repel any invading

forces. He accordingly sent out scouts to ascertain the movements of

the troops referred to, and soon learned that there was a well equipped

army of nearly ten thousand men on their way west, with the avowed

purpose, it was said, of destroying the Mormon Church and people.

Some time in August General West called out twelve or fifteen men as a

scouting party, to go over in the Bear Lake country, along the emigrant

road, and from there to the head of Lost Creek and down the Weber

River. He had heard of a party going up Lost Creek, and over to the

Bear Lake country. General West appointed Major Monroe to take charge

of the party, of which the writer was called to be one, as I had been

acquainted with mountain travel and understood the Indian language.

General West told the major to make no move of importance without

consulting me as to the journey.

The party proceeded to the divide between North Ogden and Ogden

Valley, where we halted and the major privately told me that he was

not accustomed to journeys of that kind, and wished me to lead the

party through, for I had more experience than he had. I declined the

responsibility, but the major said: "I will be responsible if you will

lead." so I headed out to Blacksmith Fork and thence to Bear Lake, and

around the east side thereof to the river. We crossed to the California

road near the present site of Montpelier, thence back east to the

road where Cokeville settlement is now located. As we failed to learn

anything of importance, we returned back over the river and struck out

for the head of Lost Creek, where it was supposed that we would fall in

with the scouts from the approaching army.

The nights began to be cold, and the food supply was getting low. The

horses were somewhat jaded, the route very rough, and the most of the

party were young and inexperienced. They began to complain and said

that nobody had ever traveled in so rough a country as that, and it

was all foolishness to be wearing ourselves out in that way. They

said the writer did not know himself where he was going, and I had

no business to be on the lead, as that was Major Monroe's place. The

major, however, promptly told the party that I was in the proper place.

Finally I called a halt and told the party that I knew that we were

going just right and had been on a trail all day, but they did not know

it. They asked, "Where is your trail?" and I again told them that we

were on it. They laughed at me when I said, "I can prove it to you, and

even tell you the color of the horses that have passed this way." But

they thought me a fool to talk thus, so I told one of the young men to

jump down and remove the leaves from a root of a tree that stood near

by a steep bank, as it was plain to the practiced eye that an old trail

passed there, and when the leaves were removed he would find that the

bark had been bruised at the roots of the tree by the hoofs of passing

horses. He found the trail and the bark off the tree roots, as I had

said. I told the men to look on the tree about the height of a pony's

side, and they would find hair that would tell them the color of the

ponies that had passed there. They found bay and white horses' hair.

Next I said to them, "Look on the point of that snag which projects

over the trail." They did so, and found a duplicate of the hair they

had found on the tree. Then they said that I could prove anything I

pleased, and they would not dispute with me any more.

The party passed on down Lost Creek, to a point where the country was

more open. When camping time came we turned into a little creek bottom

and put out the stock. I remarked to the major that I felt as though we

should put on a double guard that night. This was more than some of the

boys thought they could stand. Several said that I would run the party

to death, but that they would not submit to any extra guard. Others

said there was no use for any guard, for nobody but Brown would ever

lead a party there; but just then some one hallooed, and we found, on

looking, that no one was missing from camp. One said it was a coyote,

another that it was an owl. Again the cry was heard distinctly, and no

doubt remained of its being a human voice. Then the order was given to

get up the stock, ready for whatever might come. The horses were soon

picketed near camp, and every man thought it was proper to put on a

double guard that night, some of the boys remarking that Brown was not

such a fool as they had thought.

Things settled down for the night, and next morning the party started

out. We had gone less than a mile when we saw fresh horse tracks made

by shod horses, and the droppings looked so new that I directed a

young man to ascertain if they were warm. The novel way in which the

young man performed that task created some merriment for the moment.

Then the party continued on a short distance, when we saw a smoke just

over the creek bank ahead. Every man was ready to obey orders, and all

dismounted at command and tightened up their saddle girths. Then came

the order to see that every tube was filled with dry powder, and each

man was assigned his position for action.

The party was instructed not to halt without orders, and not to let

a horse put his head down to drink. If perchance we saw a blanket,

a handkerchief, or any camp equipage, we were to pass it unnoticed;

if brush or any obstructions were observed, we might be certain that

all such signs meant ambuscade. We then advanced cautiously and found

evidence of a party about our own number, lying encamped at the fire.

We pressed forward on the trail, and found several bushes lapped across

it, so that we felt certain we would soon fall in with those ahead,

whom we felt sure could be none other than a scouting party from

Johnston's army. We prepared for the worst, and as we were moving on

double-quick time we saw a man running towards a grove of cottonwood

trees, from a point of the mountain. Next we saw the horses of a party

of scouts, the top of whose tent was soon discovered.

Quickly capturing the horses, we charged on the tent and surrounded it.

taking the men by surprise. As they began to file out of their tent,

our party leveled their rifles and called on them to surrender. Just

at that moment one of the surprised party recognized one of our men,

so that we only required them to acknowledge that they were "dropped

on," a phrase used in those times to express the condition. We were not

long in ascertaining that the party was a scout from Davis County, in

pursuit of the same reported detachment we had been sent to intercept.

But neither of us had seen or heard anything of the party that was

supposed to be in the region of country we had been over. Without much

delay, our party hastened home to Ogden City, and joined our regiment,

finding much excitement and hearing many rumors.

It seemed that there was no rest for me, for in a day or two General

West called on me to visit the camp of James and Ben Simons, who lived

about twenty miles up the Weber River. The men named were Cherokee

Indians who, it was said, were in possession of some important

information which the general wanted to get. He told me to learn what I

could from the Simonses, as they were friendly.

When I got to the mouth of the canyon I chanced to meet Ben Simons

coming from Salt Lake City. It was evident the Indian had been

drinking, and as soon as I met him he drew his Colt's revolver and

said, "Hold on there!" threatening to kill me if I was Uncle Sam's man.

I succeeded in riding close alongside of him, grabbed his pistol and

held the muzzle away from me. I tried to persuade him not to shoot, for

we must be good friends. He yelled again that if I were a Mormon I must

fight his old uncle or he would kill me. He was a powerful man, and I

had all that I could do to keep the pistol turned from me.

For ten miles I had to tussle with that Indian, and at times thought

I would have to shoot him in self-defense; but after the most

disagreeable and hazardous ten miles' ride of my whole life, we came

to Gordon Beckstead's ranch. Simons regarded Beckstead as his friend.

The latter persuaded the warrior to dismount and have a drink of whisky

with him, and let me go my way, for I was a good friend to both of them.

I went to James Simons' camp but failed to get the information desired.

Simons was very friendly, and said that if he heard anything of

interest he would be pleased to let us know it at once. I then returned

to my regiment, which was ordered into camp the next day. We bivouacked

on the east bench in Ogden City.

CHAPTER LII.

OFF ON ANOTHER SCOUT--AGAIN ON BEAR RIVER--DREAM OF SEEING

TROOPS--DREAM FULFILLED--SEND WORD BACK OF DISCOVERY--FIVE HUNDRED

CAVALRYMEN--HEAVY STORM--MY ONLY REMAINING COMPANION TAKEN ILL--HE

IS HEALED AND I AM STRICKEN DOWN--CAMP IN THE SNOW--MY COMPANION,

EXPECTING ME TO DIE, PREPARES TO TAKE MY BODY HOME--HE RETURNS,

PRAYS FOR ME, AND I AM HEALED--STRICKEN DOWN AGAIN--I DIRECT HIM

TO LEAVE ME AND RETURN HOME--HE OBEYS RELUCTANTLY--I EXPECT TO

DIE--PECULIAR EXPERIENCES--FOUR YOUNG MEN, SENT BY MY COMRADE,

COME TO MY RELIEF--JOURNEY ON--LIGHTING FIRE IN A STORM--THE YOUNG

MEN PRAY FOR ME, AND I AM RELIEVED--TRAVELING HOMEWARD--KIND

TREATMENT--REACH OGDEN--ACT AS SEXTON--GUARD OVER SPIES--UTAH MILITIA

RECALLED--MISSIONARY LABORS IN WEBER COUNTY.

THE first night in camp at Ogden, General West and his adjutant, D.

Gamble, called at my tent, and told me I was wanted to take charge

of a scouting party to go over in the Bear Lake country, and start

by sunrise next morning. They directed me to choose the men I would

like to have accompany me, and they should be released to go home and

prepare. I made a list of five young, active men, who met me next

morning at sunrise, having received their orders. We proceeded to the

emigrant road across the Bear River, about fifteen miles above the

lake. There we met with some emigrants, but could not learn anything

from them, so we crossed back to the foot hills, and there camped in a

secluded place, where we could overlook the emigrant road. Next morning

at 4 o'clock I awoke from a dream, in which I had seen two hundred and

fifty cavalrymen come and pitch camp just across the river from where

we were; then I saw two hundred and fifty more come and reinforce the

first detachment; I also saw their baggage and artillery wagons. I was

impressed so forcibly with the dream that I called my comrades and told

them to prepare for a move, while I went up one of the high points

and watched developments. At daybreak I saw the camp of the first two

hundred and fifty men, saw them form in line for roll call, and a

mounted guard drive their horses across the river towards our camp.

The main object of our scout was to learn if the army or any portion of

it was coming down Bear River and into Salt Lake Valley from the north,

and if we saw any troops on that route to communicate the information

to headquarters at the earliest moment possible, so that our forces

could meet them at the best places on the route, and repulse them.

That that end might be served I sent two of my men with a dispatch to

General West, and as soon as the messengers had gone out of call I

again went on the hill. Everything was ready to move as developments

might indicate, and just as the first party was saddling its horses I

saw the second two hundred and fifty come up and join the first party.

Then the five hundred cavalrymen proceeded down the river, just as I

had seen them in my dream. This necessitated a second dispatch and two

more of my men, leaving me only one, with whom I followed up the troops

till they camped. It rained and snowed alternately all that day and

night. My comrade, James Davis, and I went after dark within the lines

of the troops, but did not learn of their intentions. Davis was taken

with something like a congestive chill, and we were forced to retreat

into the hills, where we camped for the night. Davis was so bad that I

worked in the storm all night with him and prayed for him; at last he

was healed and we set out on our way home at daylight.

About 8 a.m. the writer came down sick, just the same as my friend had

been, only I also suffered with pleurisy in the right side. I could

ride no further, so we camped in the snow, where it was about eight

inches deep. Snow was still falling as it can only in the mountain

country. Our clothes were wet as could be, and our blankets were in the

same condition. The only food we had was the crumbs and dust from some

crackers.

Davis succeeded in making a fire, but by that time I had cramped so

that I could not speak. Davis, supposing I was dying, started out to a

quakingasp grove to get some poles to make an Indian litter or drag,

on which he thought to take my body home. As he went he felt he ought

to have faith and pray for his comrade, as he had been prayed for the

night before; so he fell on his knees and prayed, as he afterwards

said, as he never had done before. Then something said to him, "Go back

and put your hands on him and pray again, and he will be healed;" and

it was even so.

We then traveled some fifteen miles, when the sun shone. We partly

dried our blankets by a fire and the sun, and continued our journey

for some ten miles, when I had a second attack of illness, which was

so severe that I thought I had better die alone in the mountains than

to allow the enemy to gain the advantage in the country. Consequently,

I told Davis to make my horse fast by the trail and spread my

blankets, that I might lie down. This done, I directed him not to

spare horseflesh, but take the news to our friends as soon as it was

possible. Davis did not want to leave me in that plight, but was urged

to go. He started reluctantly, and in tears.

For a time it seemed that I had rendered my last services to family

and friends, as I lay down by an Indian trail, sixty miles from any

white man's habitation. While I was pondering the situation, a magpie

came flying down over me, and said "quack," then alighted on a willow

near by, in plain sight. Next came a raven, which gave its "croak," as

it settled down near me, and it seemed as though it had found prey.

Being aware of the habits of these carrion birds, I wrapped my head

in blankets, to prevent the birds from picking out my eyes, if the

worst came to me; yet I knew that my body could not be protected from

the wild beasts that roamed in the mountains, such as the bear, wolf,

wolverine, panther or mountain lion, wild cat and lynx, some of which,

if not all these various kinds, would be tugging at my carcass inside

of twenty-four hours.

Then the birds circled over me, as if to say, "We want an eye," or

some fragment of my body, I felt that my time was nigh, and unless the

providence of God interposed, I would go the way of all the earth before

the rising of the sun. I was chilled to the very bone, and cramped so

that it was impossible for me to build a fire. It did not seem possible

for me to survive until my companion could ride sixty miles and send

relief.

While I pondered the situation, four young men who had been sent with

fresh horses and food supplies came up, they having met Davis, who

sent them on with all speed. I think the eldest of them was not over

seventeen years old. They soon built a fire and prepared much needed

refreshments, and I was greatly benefited by that special providence of

God, as it certainly seemed to me to be. While I partook of the food,

the young men saddled my horse, rolled up my blankets, and we rode

eight or ten miles that night, and camped while the rain came down in

torrents. The boys soon provided me with shelter by sticking willows in

the ground and winding the tops together and spreading blankets over,

so that it afforded a little protection for me, and I was soon wrapped

in wet blankets.

The next thing was to start a fire. Every match had got wet, and the

boys thought it impossible to make a fire, so they asked me what they

should do. I told them to get some cotton out of a quilt if they could

find a dry spot in it, then put a small priming of powder in a rifle

and ram down the cotton on the powder; in the next place, go to the

heaviest topped sagebrush they could find, and carefully reach under

and strip the dry bark off the main stalk of sagebrush, and in that way

get a tinder, then come to my shelter and hold the bark loosely over

the muzzle of the gun and fire it off. They got a light, but they had

too much powder and it blew the fire out. They tried repeatedly without

satisfactory results, and the case was becoming desperate, as darkness

was coming on. Two of them got under cover with me, and I finally

succeeded in measuring the powder to them. Then they started a flame,

and as wood was plenty they made a rousing fire.

In the meantime I took to cramping and suffered so severely that one

of the boys remarked. "Brother Brown will die. O what shall we do?"

Another said, "Let us pray." Then one led in prayer, and he prayed

mightily. As soon as he was through, one said, "Let us go in and lay

hands on him," and in a moment they all gathered around me, placed

their hands on my head, and prayed from their hearts. The cramping

ceased and never returned as severe as it was before; yet I suffered

greatly from the pain in my side. The writer regrets very much that he

cannot recall the names of those young lads. I believe they were all

sent from Willard City, Box Elder County. God bless them, whoever they

are. Their action showed them to be young heroes, with great faith in

God; and but for them I would have died that fearful night.

Next morning, the party was up, and off we went down Blacksmith's

Fork Canyon and across to Wellsville, where I was taken in by Bishop

Peter Maughan and his good wife, who did all they could to relieve my

sufferings. The Bishop also saw that the boys were well taken care of.

The following morning Samuel Obray drove up with a light, covered

wagon, and a good team, and I was helped into the wagon. Sister Maughan

had provided a large canteen full of composition tea. She came to the

wagon, and without thinking of anything else, she placed it partly

under the side where I had the pleurisy pain. Then the team started

for Brigham City, and before we had gone five miles the pain had

disappeared from my side, thanks to the Bishop and Sister Maughan for

their special kindness, and S. Obray. The latter delivered me into the

hands of Colonel Smith in Brigham City, where I was cared for until

next day, and then the colonel forwarded me to my home in Ogden City,

where I recovered after suffering from a severe cold and cough for a

few days.

During my absence the regiment had gone to Echo Canyon, and there was

scarcely an able-bodied man to be found in the city. The women and

children were cutting and hauling wood, and doing all the outdoor work

as best they could. A great deal of sickness was brought on by exposure

and hardships. At a Sabbath meeting a general vote of thanks was given

the writer for his efforts for the general good of the people and his

self-sacrifice.

About this time there was a very worthy young man named Yough, who

died, and I was called on to take the part of sexton and bury the

deceased, as well as some small children that had died. Meanwhile,

there were four prisoners brought in from the north; they were

supposed to be spies. I was called on to be one of the guards to take

them to Salt Lake City, where they were turned over to the military

authorities. Then I returned home, to learn that the troops my scouts

and I had seen on Bear River were General R. T. Burton's battalion of

Utah cavalry, which had been sent out to intercept a detachment of

Johnston's army which had been discovered in that direction, but had

returned to the main body, which went into winter quarters at Fort

Bridger. Then the Utah militia was withdrawn from Echo Canyon.

I was next called to take up my missionary labors in Weber County.

From 1856 to 1859 I baptized and rebaptized four hundred persons, and

visited with the catechism from house to house. In that work I spent

the winter of 1857-8.

CHAPTER LIII.

MORMONS ABANDON THEIR HOMES AND MOVE SOUTH--PREPARE FOR THE WORST--GO

TO PAYSON--AFFAIRS BEING SETTLED, RETURN TO OGDEN--CALLED TO GO

EAST AS A MISSIONARY--JOURNEY ACROSS THE PLAINS--MEET MY PARENTS IN

IOWA--PREACHING AND TRAVELING--MY FATHER'S TESTIMONY--MISSIONARY

LABORS--CALLED TO MISSOURI--SENT TO BRING A HERD OF CATTLE--RETURN TO

MY PARENTS' HOME--BID FAREWELL TO THEM--PURCHASING CATTLE.

SOME time in May, 1858, as I remember, an order came from President

Brigham Young for everybody living north of Utah County to move south

and leave their homes prepared for burning; for it had been decided

that if Johnston's army came in, as it had threatened to do, with

hostile intentions, the people would lay waste the country and fight

to the bitter end. I do not remember that there was a dissenting voice

from this determination.

Everybody moved out to the south, myself and family going to Payson,

one hundred miles from Ogden. There we made a camp, and I cut wild hay

and hauled it for a livelihood, that being the only employment I could

find.

In the latter part of July, when peace had been re-established, I

returned home and made hasty preparations for my family for the winter,

as I had been called by President Brigham Young to accompany General

Horace S. Eldredge to Florence, Nebraska, with a company consisting

of twenty men who were going on business and partly as missionaries.

I belonged to the latter class. I went into the western part of Iowa,

being assigned to that field of labor, while the others went to their

several destinations.

The company was to have moved out on the 1st of September, so I. A.

Canfield and I, fitted with a four-mule team and light wagon, were in

Salt Lake City ready to start at the appointed time; but the rest of

the party would not or could not be ready for ten or twelve days, so we

returned home and stayed until the 11th. We then went to Salt Lake City

and waited until the 14th, and, as the party was still tardy, we moved

out to the top of the Little Mountain, and there camped. From that

place we proceeded to the Weber River, where we were overtaken by John

Neff and Dusten Arna, who were to join the party when it came up. As

their teams were not in the best of plight for the journey, we traveled

together to Ham's Fork, where we stopped on the 19th, and waited for

those yet in the rear to come up. About 8 o'clock that evening H. S.

Eldredge, Jos. W. Young and Horton Haight reached our camp.

On the 20th, the company having got together, proceeded on the way to

the Sweetwater. On the 26th we reached the Platte River, where I was

taken very sick with hemorrhoids of the bowels. With that exception,

all moved smoothly. On the 28th we passed Fort Laramie, and my health

began to improve, though I had been brought almost to death's door, and

the company was detained one afternoon in consequence. After that I

improved, and the company made rapid headway. October 3rd two deserters

from Fort Laramie passed the party. They had stolen two horses and a

mule from the government, and, as I remember it, made good their escape.

Nothing happened out of the ordinary until October 19th, when the

party arrived at Florence, Nebraska, on the Missouri River. From that

point each went to his field of labor or to his business, as planned

beforehand. Canfield and I crossed the river to L. O. Littlefield's, in

Crescent City, and stayed over night with him and his family, and on

the 20th proceeded on our way to Calhoun, Harrison County, Iowa, where

my father lived with his family. We were soon overtaken by Clayton Webb

and B. H. Dennis, my brothers-in-law. I accepted a seat in their buggy

and they took me to my father's home.

I had not seen father for eleven years. I was an entire stranger to

every one of the family, who kept a hotel. I went in and ate with

strangers, and did not make myself known until after all the evening

work was done. Then after I was satisfied that they had not the

remotest idea of my identity, I told them who I was. It was some

time before they could realize that what I said was true. To them it

seemed that the dead had come to life, and the long lost had been

found, for they had all given up hope of ever seeing me again. It was

not difficult for me to recognize my father and mother, but my elder

brother and sister were dead, and the younger ones had all grown out of

memory.