HOW THE YO-SEMITE VALLEY WAS DISCOVERED
Till 1851, the peaks and valleys of the Californian Sierra Nevada were
known only as a grim, mysterious region that white men, who valued
their lives, would do well not to pry into. Parties of diggers
travelling westwards had crossed the range in certain places, but even
the strongest bands of them carried their lives in their hands in so
doing, for the Snake Indians regarded the whole neighbourhood as their
special property. All that was definitely known was that, between the
hills, lay deep, uninviting valleys, walled and overhung with granite
blocks. The deepest and most picturesque of these, the Yo-Semite, was
the great stronghold of the Indian banditti; a cunningly hidden
natural fortress whose approaches no stranger would suspect; and it
was only by sheer accident that white men ever discovered it.
Only too often, "civilisation" has been another name for importing
white men's most degrading vices into a country whose people could
originally have taught the civilisers many a lesson in dignified
humility and self-restraint. And in no instance is this more true than
in that of the Snake or Shoshonean branch of the Indian race; for
whereas, in 1805, the worst complaints that Captains Lewis and
Clarke[3] had to make of them was that they were treacherous and given
to pilfering, by 1851 they had already become drunken, lazy highway
robbers and gamblers; and for this the white gold-seekers were largely
to blame.
[3] See "Adventures in the Great Deserts," Chapter III. (Seeley and
Co.)
On account of the rush of the "forty-niners," San Francisco and
Sacramento had developed, all in five minutes, from mere Spanish
market-villages into great, raw, ugly towns or camps, whose principal
buildings were drinking and gaming dens and money-brokers' offices.
The Indians stood by and watched, and wondered; and then coveted; for
a vulgar tawdriness, that soon became positively idiotic, was to them
a world of magnificence--and the gold which paid for it all was
derived from their own soil; a wealth which they ought to have been
enjoying! They went back to their hill-camps and reported; the matter
was pondered and discussed. They could not take San Francisco, but at
least they could prevent the white man's territory from spreading
beyond certain limits; and this they determined to do to the best of
their ability.
The strangers most likely to be affected by such an attitude were
those restless spirits who, dissatisfied with the output of their
"claims," were already wandering farther into the unknown country in
search of better ones; and the store and tavern keepers who supplied
travellers and the more outlying diggers. Two such stores were the
property of a young American named John Savage, a good-hearted,
respectable fellow, who, because he was wise enough to ignore little
thefts on the part of his Indian neighbours, yet man enough to hit out
uncompromisingly if necessary, was very popular among the redskins;
and this popularity he increased by marrying an Indian girl. He, his
wife, and his mother conducted the store at Mariposa Creek, while that
on the Frezno River was left in charge of a manager and two
assistants.
Every evening a crowd of Snake Indians would collect outside
Savage's house, or in the store, and while he smoked a friendly pipe
with them, he was sometimes able to gauge their feelings towards
the fresh inhabitants of the tiny settlement, whose number was
steadily increasing. The chief of the Snakes was one Jose Jerez, a
comparatively young man, who certainly had not benefited by contact
with white men. Bit by bit this brave had succeeded in supplying
most of his tribe with muskets; but ammunition was not so easy to
obtain. Savage had, from the beginning, firmly refused to supply the
Indians with powder; and now that San Francisco was becoming a power
in the land, few of them dared enter it to make purchases, lest some
of their tribe's recent depredations should be visited on them.
Thus Jerez was dependent on what ammunition he could bully or steal
or wheedle from passing travellers or raw new-comers.
One evening Savage noticed that the group of idlers were less chatty
and civil than usual; in fact, they pointedly conversed with one
another in their own dialect, of which they knew him to be ignorant,
instead of in the broken English which they generally employed. This
so aroused his suspicions that he ordered his wife to play the part of
eavesdropper, and to report anything of a dangerous nature.
The talk turned on the Indians' grievances, real or imaginary. Their
fishing and hunting had been encroached upon, they said; the
pale-faces were enriching themselves out of land that belonged to
them, and giving them nothing in return; not so much as a bag of
gunpowder; and the miners would never be satisfied till they had
driven them up to the barren mountain-tops.
When Savage had learned the gist of the conversation, his mind was
soon made up. He had to drive into San Francisco on the following day
for fresh stores, and it occurred to him that if he offered Jerez a
seat in his waggon, and a day's sight-seeing, he would not only be
restoring the chief to good humour, but would have an opportunity of
showing that gentleman the numerical strength of the white men, and
the folly of interfering with people who might deal out some very
unwelcome chastisement.
Jerez and another brave joyfully accepted the invitation, and at
daybreak the waggon drove off. On the way Savage did his best, by
means of quiet hints, to show his two guests that it is always wise to
put up with what one cannot alter; and that Indian notions of
wholesale bloodshed would not "pay" with white men. In San Francisco
he hammered this lesson home by taking them to see the volunteers at
target-practice, and pointing out one or two pieces of artillery that
had been imported. The chiefs were decidedly impressed, and, seeing
them in such a satisfactory frame of mind, Savage conducted them to
the inn where he purposed staying the night and went about his
purchases.
Left to themselves, each found the dollar which Savage had given him
burning a hole in his pocket. Not daring to venture into the streets
by themselves, they spent the money at the bar, and so effectually
that, when their entertainer returned, both were very drunk and very
quarrelsome. Savage remonstrated mildly, whereupon both grew abusive
and threatening. In order to avoid an unpleasant scene, he went down
the yard to the outbuilding where he was to sleep; but before he had
lain down, both redskins sought him out for a renewal of the argument.
Savage pointed to the apartment reserved for them, and recommended
them to go to it; and their answer was a further torrent of threats,
which they emphasised by brandishing their knives. No one with the
spirit of a man in him cares to see a knife brought into a discussion
or fight; John Savage expressed his personal views on the matter by
hammering both his antagonists with his fists till they were glad to
retreat to their bedroom.
In the morning they were sullen and silent, but Savage took no notice
of this; he finished his marketing, and then returned to the inn to
put in his horses and take up the Indians. Still they would not speak,
and, disliking their demeanour, the Yankee very ostentatiously loaded
a pair of pistols with ball, and stuck them in his belt before joining
the others on the front-board. At a house a mile or two out of the
town he stopped to deliver a parcel; he was not away from the waggon
five minutes, but when he returned, Jerez and his companion had
vanished.
Savage was aghast, for there was but one construction to be placed
upon their disappearance: they wanted to reach Mariposa Creek before
him. For what purpose would scarcely bear thinking of. They were
familiar with every inch of the country, while he only knew the
cart-track--a road cut purposely zigzag that the worst of the hills
might be avoided; the average rate of his horses could hardly exceed
six miles an hour on such a road, while the Indians could easily run
eight; he had thirty miles to drive, and ought to give the horses at
least one rest; they had scarcely eighteen miles before them, if they
went in a straight line, and would easily accomplish in three hours a
journey that usually took him six.
He lashed the horses without mercy; already he was picturing his wife
and mother killed, and his home in flames; for the Indians would
probably reach Mariposa in the early afternoon, a time when no diggers
would be likely to be within a mile of the store. He gave no further
thought to food for himself, or bait or rest for the horses. Twice he
saw, or fancied that he saw, two figures hurrying over the hills to
the southeast; he only drove the harder, trying might and main to sit
on his fears and laugh at himself for being frightened of a couple of
redskins. Unhappily, he knew all too well that it was not just "a
couple of redskins" who had to be taken into account. During the past
six months, seven such stores as his had been plundered and burnt by a
strong posse of Snakes; and Jerez could, without difficulty, collect
the best part of a hundred men at an hour's notice.
Hours and miles slipped by; the horses behaved like bricks, never
once stumbling and apparently never tiring. As always happens in such
a case, the last mile seemed as long as all the rest together; the
road here was a steady wind, so that the driver could never see more
than a hundred yards ahead of him; for on either side of the track was
dense forest. At last he came in sight of his home, and then, like a
boy, he stood up on the footboard and vented his feelings in a
delighted "Hurrah!" For everything was in its normal condition; the
cattle and horses grazing in the pound; the poultry in the roadway,
and his women-folk gossiping cheerily with a couple of diggers under
the verandah.
So far nothing had been heard of the Indians, and, after a rest and a
meal, Savage began to feel heartily ashamed of his terrors. But, that
night, either a remarkable coincidence or a very ominous event took
place. For the first time in two years, the store was entirely
deserted by Indians; not a single Shoshonee looked in for an evening's
chat. The next night it was the same, and the next after that. On the
fourth night the proprietor arrived at a conclusion.
"It's a boycott," he said; "and I'm not sorry a little bit; we shall
be better off without 'em."
"Maybe they've boycotted the country as well as the store," said a
loitering digger. "For none of our boys have clapped eyes on a Injun
since you come back from 'Frisco."
"So much the better; 'cause to-morrow's audit day, and the old lady
goes to the river for her little jaunt." On the first of every month,
either Savage or his mother drove over to the store at Frezno River to
examine accounts, pay wages, and bring back the "takings." On this
occasion the young man felt himself in an awkward dilemma; on the one
hand dreading to be absent from his store, on the other not at all
satisfied that his mother might not be attacked on the way by
revengeful Indians.
The old lady, however, always looked forward to such an outing as a
welcome break in the monotony of her life at the Creek, and would not
be baulked of her treat; though, in the morning, she consented to take
Sam, a reliable negro servant, as escort. The Frezno River store was
but a four hours' drive distant; and she ought to be able to return
soon after dark came on, at latest.
In the middle of the day a digger rushed excitedly into the store. He
had just returned from a "claim" six miles away, whither he had gone
to compare some quartz.
"Where's all the boys? Not knocked off for the noon spell yet?" he
cried.
"Some of 'em'll soon be round," said Savage, who was alone in the
store. "What's the trouble?"
"Trouble 'nough. The redskins have come down on First Creek, killed a
dozen of 'em, and cleared out with all the powder an' nuggets they
could see their way to handling."
Savage turned pale; First Creek was on the direct road to his other
store.
"Where are they got to now?" he gasped.
"Lord knows. It was a nigger as told me, just afore he died; he seen
it all, an' got one o' their bullets into him. All the rest of the
diggers have made tracks for 'Frisco, to fetch out the volunteers.
Never had a chance, so the nigger said. There was 'most three hundred
o' the reptiles, an' not more'n twenty of our boys, an' all of 'em
took by surprise; shot down afore they could pick up their guns."
Savage gave the frightened man a drink of spirits, then said
resolutely:
"See an' muster as many o' the boys as ye can.--Here come some of 'em.
Tell the others if they don't wipe off this score, our lives won't be
worth a cent out here. My poor old mother's over at the other store,
and I'm off to fetch her back."
Within half an hour fifty diggers had been collected, and, after a
brief discussion, it was arranged that forty of them should accompany
Savage on horseback while the others guarded the store, which, just
now, was less likely to be attacked than the more distant one.
Riding at full gallop they accomplished the distance in a little over
two hours; and even that was two hours too late. A roar of futile
anger arose from the miners as they pulled up their horses. The store
was in flames, and already half consumed; at the end, by the stables,
was Savage's van, minus the horses, and across the front-board of it
lay the faithful black, shot dead, but still clutching a discharged
rifle; while round about the doorway were the bodies of the manager,
his two assistants, and old Mrs. Savage. Heedless of everything else,
her son rushed to her side; then uttered a strange little cry of
relief as she opened her eyes and sat up painfully. Blood was running
from her shoulder.
"Thank God you are safe," he said huskily. "The rest doesn't matter
so much now." He lifted her in his arms and carried her tenderly to
the waggon. Meanwhile, some of his companions were examining the other
bodies for some sign of life, which, unhappily, was not forthcoming;
while the rest made fruitless efforts at extinguishing the fire.
The old lady's story was soon told. She had not been in the store very
long when a large party of Indians swooped down on the place with
guns, tomahawks, and lighted torches. She heard a scream from the
negro who had been dozing under the waggon-tilt, and she and the three
shopmen rushed to the door, only to be shot down immediately by the
crowd of shrieking wretches outside. She had received a ball in the
shoulder, and, while the Indians were ransacking and firing the store,
swooned away from fright and loss of blood.
A pair of horses were at once put into the shafts and the sorrowful
party were about to return to Mariposa Creek, when a dozen horsemen
galloped up; miners from the "claim" hard by, who, though they had
paid no special heed to the firing, had soon been alarmed by the smoke
of the burning house. Not one of them had seen anything of the
Shoshonees, and all were anxious to help in a search for the culprits.
But the short winter's day was already at an end, and Savage preferred
getting his mother home in safety to scouring a country that might
teem with Indian ambuscades; he therefore urged the volunteers to make
a dash for San Francisco, to interview the Governor (McDougall) and
ask for troops and ammunition.
But the day's misadventures were not yet ended. Within a mile of
Mariposa Creek the returning men could hear spasmodic bursts of
musketry fire.
[Illustration: RED INDIAN ATTACK ON A STORE
The Indians swooped down on the place with guns, tomahawks, and lighted
torches. Those within rushed to the door, only to be shot down
immediately by a crowd of wild redskins outside.]
"They're laying up for us, by gum!" said one man, starting off at a
gallop.
Savage leapt from the waggon and on to a spare horse, and, leaving his
mother to the care of two or three men who were riding inside, he
started with the rest for the store. "We've got them this time," he
shouted triumphantly.
About seventy redskins, most of them on horseback, and the rest with
their horses tethered close at hand, were firing on the house, though
from a tolerably safe distance; for the undaunted miners within had a
good supply of ammunition, whereas the Snakes had to use theirs
sparingly. Already a good many Indians lay dead or wounded, and, at
the sound made by the new arrivals, the rest either turned to bay or
fled.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, Jerez," shouted Savage as he charged at
the chief and fired off his pistol in his face.
Seeing their leader down, the Indians hesitated, though some of the
bolder of them rode straight for the store, now that it was no longer
safe for the men inside to continue their fire. But the ensuing battle
was only a very short one. However brave the Indians might be at
shooting from cover, or making war on women, they were powerless in
open field against the burly miners, who cared nothing for their howls
and their hatchets, and who, in many cases, having exhausted their
ammunition, tore the savages screaming from their saddles and flung
them senseless on the hard-frozen road.
"Look what the oseberds be at, Savage!" roared a huge Devonshireman,
spurring his horse furiously in pursuit of a small batch of Indians
who were galloping for the hills.
"After 'em," echoed the defenders of the store; and Savage and five
others rode madly in the Devonshireman's wake.
Confident of success now that their friends had returned, the miners
in the store had come out to continue the fight in the open; and the
young Indian wife had followed them. In an instant, and at first
unseen by anyone except Billy West the Devonshireman, one of the
braves had snatched up the woman, flung her across his saddle, and
ridden off, his flight covered by other fugitives.
The little handful of white men rode despairingly on, though their
horses were jaded, though it was pitch dark and a heavy snow was
beginning. There was no thought of ambuscades now; each man's blood
was up; each man ready to deal with a score of Indians single-handed.
Yet, at last, common sense said "stop." For the first mile or so, the
snow had been their friend; for, to eyes accustomed to darkness, the
Indians' track was visible enough on its surface; but with the
increasing storm, footprints were obliterated as fast as they were
made. The Devonshireman was the first to pull up.
"Shall us goo on, or goo back, or baide yere,--or what?" he asked.
Everyone looked towards Savage. Clearly these good fellows were all
anxiety to show their sympathy with him, and their readiness to fall
in with his least wish. He, too, had now pulled up, but seemed
altogether too dazed to form any decision. The others held a whispered
council; but, while they still hesitated, they heard a body of mounted
men riding swiftly behind them.
"Halt!--Who goes there?" And as an echo to the leader's voice, came
the click of three dozen carbine-hammers.
"All right; _we_ shan't eat ye," growled a miner; and the troop rode
on towards them. "Who are _you_, any way?"
"Dr. Bunnell, and forty volunteers from 'Frisco. Know anything about
that affair at First Creek this morning?"
The new arrivals were mounted militia from San Francisco, who had been
warned by the fugitives from the massacre at the diggings. Billy West
began to tell of the other outrages, but the doctor interrupted him.
"Ay; we judged there was something of the sort going on. Bring that
redskin here again."
Two men with bull's-eye lanterns at their belts rode forward, leading
a third horse on which an Indian was securely bound.
"Here's our guide," said Dr. Bunnell grimly. He held up his heavy
stock-whip to the lantern light, and the Shoshonee winced. "We
captured him this afternoon, and he's going to be good enough to show
us where his brothers live. We got ten of 'em altogether; Captain
Boling's men are looking after the rest. They'll meet us yon side the
first hill at midnight; so fall in with our lads, and we'll get on; if
your horses are anything like ours, you'll be glad to travel slowly."
The troop rode on silently, following the directions given by the
prisoner; and soon after midnight they came upon a body of men,
seventy strong, who, having dismounted, were huddling over camp-fires
on the mountain-side. The soldiers were well supplied with rations,
which they readily shared with Savage and his six friends; and all
settled down to give the horses a breathing space. A couple of hours
before dawn, a bugle blew, and the shivering, stiffened men clambered
into their saddles again.
The way now lay across a snow-clad plain which, after a few miles,
began to slope steadily upwards. As day broke, the riders saw a group
of hills not far ahead; and at sight of them the Indians began to look
hesitating and uncomfortable.
"What's wrong?" asked Captain Boling.
"They can't agree, gov'nor," said a man who acted as interpreter.
"Some of 'em allow we're on the wrong track altogether."
"In other words, they reckon we're in for the worst of it, and they'll
get burnt for informing," said Dr. Bunnell, riding up. He spoke
impressively in the Shoshonean dialect to the prisoners for a minute,
then added, "All right; drive on. I've made them understand that it
won't answer their purpose to be crooked with us."
More crestfallen than ever, the guides led the way up the slope and
into an unsuspected ravine, which eventually opened on to another
plain; and this they crossed, coming out presently to the brink of a
sharp downward slope, at the foot of which the opening of a valley was
visible.
"There's someone standing over there." Captain Boling pointed to the
mouth of the valley.
"Ay; Injun woman," said a sharp-eyed miner.
As the men quickened their pace the woman ran to meet them. It was an
old Indian squaw, who was wringing her hands in an agony of terror.
Dr. Bunnell reined up and questioned her, and she at once admitted
that a strange Indian girl had been brought to the valley a few hours
earlier, and that over two hundred Indians were sheltering there. She
also told him what he did not believe at the time, but which
subsequently proved to be true: that these would be the first white
men to enter the valley. He looked sharply round at the prisoners;
their faces fully confirmed the old woman's betrayal of their tribe's
hiding-place.
At the sound of the bugle the whole troop dashed into the valley, and
the first sight that greeted them was a large group of wigwams. Before
the savages could get into battle array their camp was surrounded, and
a brisk carbine fire had opened on them. Almost at the first shot they
lost heart, and on seeing them lay down their arms, the Captain
stopped the firing and ordered his men to close in. John Savage,
unable to control himself any longer, made a rush for the wigwams;
and, while he looked desperately round him, his wife, screaming
deliriously, came running to meet him.
Through this prompt action on the part of the militia, the Indian
rising was entirely suppressed, over a hundred braves were carried
back to San Francisco as hostages, and the beautiful Yo-Semite
Valley ceased, from that day, to be the stronghold of Shoshonee
mountain-brigands.