ADVENTURES ON THE OVERLAND ROAD.
As the warm days of summer approached I longed for the cool air of the
mountains; and to the mountains I determined to go. After engaging a man
to take care of the farm, I proceeded to Leavenworth and there met my old
wagon-master and friend, Lewis Simpson, who was fitting out a train at
Atchison and loading it with supplies for the Overland Stage Company, of
which Mr. Russell, my old employer, was one of the proprietors. Simpson
was going with this train to Fort Laramie and points further west.
"Come along with me, Billy," said he, "I'll give you a good lay-out. I
want you with me."
"I don't know that I would like to go as far west as that again,"
replied I, "but I do want to ride the pony express once more; there's
some life in that."
"Yes, that's so; but it will soon shake the life out of you," said he.
"However, if that's what you've got your mind set on, you had better come
to Atchison with me and see Mr. Russell, who I'm pretty certain, will
give you a situation."
I replied that I would do that. I then went home and informed mother of
my intention, and as her health was very poor I had great difficulty in
obtaining her consent. I finally convinced her that as I was of no use on
the farm, it would be better and more profitable for me to return to the
plains. So after giving her all the money I had earned by trapping, I
bade her good-bye and set out for Atchison.
I met Mr. Russell there and asked him for employment as a pony
express-rider; he gave me a letter to Mr. Slade, who was then the stage
agent for the division extending from Julesburg to Rocky Ridge. Slade
had his headquarters at Horseshoe Station, thirty-six miles west of
Fort Laramie and I made the trip thither in company with Simpson and
his train.
Almost the very first person I saw after dismounting from my horse was
Slade. I walked up to him and presented Mr. Russell's letter, which he
hastily opened and read. With a sweeping glance of his eye he took my
measure from head to foot, and then said:
"My boy, you are too young for a pony express-rider. It takes men for
that business."
"I rode two months last year on Bill Trotter's division, sir, and filled
the bill then; and I think I am better able to ride now," said I.
"What! are you the boy that was riding there, and was called the youngest
rider on the road?"
"I am the same boy," I replied, confident that everything was now all
right for me.
"I have heard of you before. You are a year or so older now, and I think
you can stand it. I'll give you a trial anyhow and if you weaken you can
come back to Horseshoe Station and tend stock."
That ended our first interview. The next day he assigned me to duty on
the road from Red Buttes on the North Platte, to the Three Crossings of
the Sweetwater--a distance of seventy-six miles--and I began riding at
once. It was a long piece of road, but I was equal to the undertaking;
and soon afterwards had an opportunity to exhibit my power of endurance
as a pony express rider.
One day when I galloped into Three Crossings, my home station, I found
that the rider who was expected to take the trip out on my arrival, had
got into a drunken row the night before and had been killed; and that
there was no one to fill his place. I did not hesitate for a moment to
undertake an extra ride of eighty-five miles to Rocky Ridge, and I
arrived at the latter place on time. I then turned back and rode to Red
Buttes, my starting place, accomplishing on the round trip a distance of
322 miles.
[Illustration: I IMMEDIATELY CHANGED HORSES]
Slade heard of this feat of mine, and one day as he was passing on a
coach he sang out to me, "My boy, you're a brick, and no mistake. That
was a good run you made when you rode your own and Miller's routes, and
I'll see that you get extra pay for it."
Slade, although rough at times and always a dangerous character--having
killed many a man--was always kind to me. During the two years that I
worked for him as pony express-rider and stage-driver, he never spoke an
angry word to me.
As I was leaving Horse Creek one day, a party of fifteen Indians "jumped
me" in a sand ravine about a mile west of the station. They fired at me
repeatedly, but missed their mark. I was mounted on a roan California
horse--the fleetest steed I had. Putting spurs and whip to him, and lying
flat on his back, I kept straight on for Sweetwater Bridge--eleven miles
distant--instead of trying to turn back to Horse Creek. The Indians came
on in hot pursuit, but my horse soon got away from them, and ran into the
station two miles ahead of them. The stock-tender had been killed there
that morning, and all the stock had been driven off by the Indians, and
as I was therefore unable to change horses, I continued on to Ploutz's
Station--twelve miles further--thus making twenty-four miles straight run
with one horse. I told the people at Ploutz's what had happened at
Sweetwater Bridge, and with a fresh horse went on and finished the trip
without any further adventure.
[Illustration: ATTACK ON STAGE COACH.]
About the middle of September the Indians became very troublesome on the
line of the stage road along the Sweetwater. Between Split Rock and Three
Crossings they robbed a stage, killed the driver and two passengers, and
badly wounded Lieut. Flowers, the assistant division agent. The
red-skinned thieves also drove off the stock from the different stations,
and were continually lying in wait for the passing stages and pony
express-riders, so that we had to take many desperate chances in running
the gauntlet.
The Indians had now become so bad and had stolen so much stock that it
was decided to stop the pony express for at least six weeks, and to run
the stages but occasionally during that period; in fact, it would have
been almost impossible to have run the enterprise much longer without
restocking the line.
While we were thus nearly all lying idle, a party was organized to go
out and search for stolen stock. This party was composed of
stage-drivers, express-riders, stock-tenders, and ranchmen--forty of them
altogether--and they were well-armed and well-mounted. They were mostly
men who had undergone all kinds of hardships and braved every danger, and
they were ready and anxious to "tackle" any number of Indians. Wild Bill
(who had been driving stage on the road and had recently come down to our
division) was elected captain of the company.
It was supposed that the stolen stock had been taken to the head of
Powder River and vicinity, and the party, of which I was a member,
started out for that section in high hopes of success.
Twenty miles out from Sweetwater Bridge, at the head of Horse Creek, we
found an Indian trail running north towards Powder River, and we could
see by the tracks that most of the horses had been recently shod and were
undoubtedly our stolen stage stock. Pushing rapidly forward, we followed
this trail to Powder River; thence down this stream to within about forty
miles of the spot where old Fort Reno now stands. Here the trail took a
more westerly course along the foot of the mountains, leading eventually
to Crazy Woman's Fork--a tributary of Powder River. At this point we
discovered that the party whom we were trailing had been joined by
another band of Indians, and, judging from the fresh appearance of the
trail, the united body could not have left this spot more than
twenty-four hours before.
Being aware that we were now in the heart of the hostile country and that
we might at any moment find more Indians than we had "lost," we advanced
with more caution than usual, and kept a sharp lookout. As we were
approaching Clear Creek, another tributary of Powder river, we discovered
Indians on the opposite side of the creek, some three miles distant; at
least we saw horses grazing, which was a sure sign that there were
Indians there.
The Indians thinking themselves in comparative safety--never before
having been followed so far into their own country by white men--had
neglected to put out any scouts. They had no idea that there were any
white men in that part of the country. We got the lay of their camp, and
then held a council to consider and mature a plan for capturing it. We
knew full well that the Indians would outnumber us at least three to one,
and perhaps more. Upon the advice and suggestion of Wild Bill, it was
finally decided that we should wait until it was nearly dark, and then,
after creeping as close to them as possible, make a dash through their
camp, open a general fire on them, and stampede the horses.
This plan, at the proper time, was most successfully executed. The dash
upon the enemy was a complete surprise to them. They were so overcome
with astonishment that they did not know what to make of it. We could not
have astonished them any more if we had dropped down into their camp from
the clouds. They did not recover from the surprise of this sudden charge
until after we had ridden pell-mell through their camp and got away with
our own horses as well as theirs. We at once circled the horses around
towards the south, and after getting them on the south side of Clear
Creek, some twenty of our men--just as the darkness was coming on--rode
back and gave the Indians a few parting shots. We then took up our line
of march for Sweetwater Bridge, where we arrived four days afterwards
with all of our own horses and about one hundred captured Indian ponies.
The expedition had proved a grand success, and the event was celebrated
in the usual manner--by a grand spree. The only store at Sweetwater
Bridge did a rushing business for several days. The returned
stock-hunters drank, and gambled and fought. The Indian ponies, which had
been distributed among the captors, passed from hand to hand at almost
every deal of the cards. There seemed to be no limit to the rioting, and
carousing; revelry reigned supreme. On the third day of the orgie, Slade,
who had heard the news, came up to the bridge and took a hand in the
"fun," as it was called. To add some variation and excitement to the
occasion, Slade got in to a quarrel with a stage-driver and shot him,
killing him almost instantly.
[Illustration: ALF. SLADE KILLING THE DRIVER.]
The "boys" became so elated as well as "elevated" over their success
against the Indians, that most of them were in favor of going back and
cleaning out the whole Indian race. One old driver especially, Dan Smith,
was eager to open a war on all the hostile nations, and had the drinking
been continued another week he certainly would have undertaken the job,
single-handed and alone. The spree finally came to an end; the men
sobered down and abandoned the idea of again invading the hostile
country. The recovered horses were replaced on the road, and the stages
and pony express were again running on time.
Slade, having taken a great fancy to me, said: "Billy, I want you to come
down to my headquarters, and I'll make you a sort of supernumerary rider,
and send you out only when it is necessary." I accepted the offer, and
went with him down to Horseshoe, where I had a comparatively easy time of
it. I had always been fond of hunting, and I now had a good opportunity
to gratify my ambition in that direction, as I had plenty of spare time
on my hands. In this connection I will relate one of my bear-hunting
adventures. One day, when I had nothing else to do, I saddled up an extra
pony express horse, and arming myself with a good rifle and pair of
revolvers, struck out for the foot hills of Laramie Peak for a bear-hunt.
Riding carelessly along, and breathing the cool and bracing autumn air
which came down from the mountains, I felt as only a man can feel who is
roaming over the prairies of the far West, well armed, and mounted on a
fleet and gallant steed. The perfect freedom which he enjoys is in itself
a refreshing stimulant to the mind as well as to the body. Such indeed
were my feelings on this beautiful day, as I rode up the valley of the
Horseshoe. Occasionally I scared up a flock of sage-hens or a
jack-rabbit. Antelopes and deer were almost always in sight in any
direction, but as they were not the kind of game I was after, on that
day, I passed them by, and kept on towards the higher mountains. The
further I rode the rougher and wilder became the country, and I knew that
I was approaching the haunts of the bear. I did not discover any,
however, although I saw plenty of tracks in the snow.
About two o'clock in the afternoon, my horse having become tired, and
myself being rather weary, I shot a sage-hen, and dismounting, I
unsaddled my horse and tied him to a small tree, where he could easily
feed on the mountain grass. I then built a little fire, and broiling the
chicken and seasoning it with salt and pepper, which I had obtained from
my saddle-bags, I soon sat down to a "genuine square meal," which I
greatly relished.
After resting for a couple of hours, I remounted and resumed my upward
trip to the mountains, having made up my mind to camp out that night
rather than go back without a bear, which my friends knew I had gone out
for. As the days were growing short, night soon came on, and I looked
around for a suitable camping place. While thus engaged, I scared up a
flock of sage-hens, two of which I shot, intending to have one for supper
and the other for breakfast.
By this time it was becoming quite dark, and I rode down to one of the
little mountain streams, where I found an open place in the timber
suitable for a camp. I dismounted, and after unsaddling my horse and
hitching him to a tree, I prepared to start a fire. Just then I was
startled by hearing a horse whinnying further up the stream. It was
quite a surprise to me, and I immediately ran to my animal to keep him
from answering, as horses usually do in such cases. I thought that the
strange horse might belong to some roaming band of Indians, as I knew of
no white men being in that portion of the country at that time. I was
certain that the owner of the strange horse could not be far distant,
and I was very anxious to find out who my neighbor was, before letting
him know that I was in his vicinity. I therefore re-saddled my horse,
and leaving him tied so that I could easily reach him I took my gun and
started out on a scouting expedition up the stream. I had gone about
four hundred yards when, in a bend of the stream, I discovered ten or
fifteen horses grazing.
On the opposite side of the creek a light was shining high up the
mountain bank. Approaching the mysterious spot as cautiously as possible,
and when within a few yards of the light--which I discovered came from a
dug-out in the mountain side--I heard voices, and soon I was able
distinguish the words, as they proved to be in my own language. Then I
knew that the occupants of the dug-out, whence the voices proceeded, were
white men. Thinking that they might be a party of trappers, I boldly
walked up to the door and knocked for admission. The voices instantly
ceased, and for a moment a deathlike silence reigned inside. Then there
seemed to follow a kind of hurried whispering--a sort of
consultation--and then some one called out: "Who's there?"
"A friend and a white man," I replied.
The door opened, and a big, ugly-looking fellow stepped, forth and said:
"Come in."
I accepted the invitation with some degree of fear and hesitation, which
I endeavored to conceal, as I saw that it was too late to back out, and
that it would never do to weaken at that point, whether they were friends
or foes. Upon entering the dug-out my eyes fell upon eight as rough and
villainous looking men as I ever saw in my life. Two of them I instantly
recognized as teamsters who had been driving in Lew Simpson's train, a
few months before, and had been discharged.
They were charged with the murdering and robbing of a ranchman; and
having stolen his horses it was supposed that they had left the country.
I gave them no signs of recognition however, deeming it advisable to let
them remain in ignorance as to who I was. It was a hard crowd, and I
concluded that the sooner I could get away from them the better it would
be for me. I felt confident that they were a band of horse-thieves.
"Where are you going, young man; and who's with you?" asked one of the
men who appeared to be the leader of the gang.
"I am entirely alone. I left Horseshoe station this morning for a bear
hunt, and not finding any bears, I had determined to camp out for the
night and wait till morning," said I; "and just as I was going into camp,
a few hundred yards down the creek, I heard one of your horses whinnying,
and then I came up to your camp."
[Illustration: THE HORSE THIEVES' DEN.]
I was thus explicit in my statement in order, if possible to satisfy the
cut-throats that I was not spying upon them, but that my intrusion was
entirely accidental.
"Where's your horse?" demanded the boss thief.
"I left him down the creek," I answered.
They proposed going after the horse, but I thought that that would never
do, as it would leave me without any means of escape, and I accordingly
said, in hopes to throw them off the track, "Captain, I'll leave my gun
here and go down and get my horse, and come back and stay all night."
I said this in as cheerful and as careless a manner as possible, so as
not to arouse their suspicions in any way, or lead them to think that I
was aware of their true character. I hated to part with my gun, but my
suggestion of leaving it was a part of the plan of escape which I had
arranged. If they have the gun, thought I, they would surely believe that
I intended to come back. But this little game did not work at all, as one
of the desperadoes spoke up and said:
"Jim and I will go down with you after your horse, and you can leave your
gun here all the same, as you'll not need it."
"All right," I replied, for I could certainly have said nothing else.
It became evident to me that it would be better to trust myself with
two men than with the whole party. It was apparent that from this time
on, I would have to be on the alert for some good opportunity to give
them the slip.
"Come along," said one of them, and together we went down the creek, and
soon came to the spot where my horse was tied. One of the men unhitched
the animal and said: "I'll lead the horse."
"Very well," said I, "I've got a couple of sage-hens here. Lead on."
I picked up the sage-hens, which I had killed a few hours before, and
followed the man who was leading the horse, while his companion brought
up the rear. The nearer we approached the dug-out the more I dreaded the
idea of going back among the villainous cut-throats.
My first plan of escape having failed, I now determined upon another.
[Illustration: MY ESCAPE FROM THE HORSE THIEVES.]
I had both of my revolvers with me, the thieves not having thought it
necessary to search me. It was now quite dark, and I purposely dropped
one of the sage-hens, and asked the man behind me to pick it up. While he
was hunting for it on the ground, I quickly pulled out one of my Colt's
revolvers and struck him a tremendous blow on the back of the head,
knocking him senseless to the ground. I then instantly wheeled around,
and saw that the man ahead who was only a few feet distant, had heard the
blow and had turned to see what was the matter, his hand upon his
revolver. We faced each other at about the same instant, but before he
could fire, as he tried to do, I shot him dead in his tracks. Then
jumping on my horse, I rode down the creek as fast as possible, through
the darkness and over the rough ground and rocks.
The other outlaws in the dug-out, having heard the shot which I had
fired, knew there was trouble, and they all came rushing down the creek.
I suppose, by the time they reached the man whom I had knocked down,
that he had recovered and hurriedly told them of what had happened. They
did not stay with the man whom I had shot, but came on in hot pursuit of
me. They were not mounted, and were making better time down the rough
canõn than I was on horseback. From time to time I heard them gradually
gaining on me.
At last they had come so near that I saw that I must abandon my horse. So
I jumped to the ground, and gave him a hard slap with the butt of one of
my revolvers, which started him on down the valley, while I scrambled up
the mountain side. I had not ascended more than forty feet when I heard
my pursuers coming closer and closer; I quickly hid behind a large pine
tree, and in a few moments they all rushed by me, being led on by the
rattling footsteps of my horse, which they heard ahead of them. Soon I
heard them firing at random at the horse, as they no doubt supposed I was
still seated on his back. As soon as they had passed me I climbed further
up the steep mountain, and knowing that I had given them the slip, and
feeling certain that I could keep out of their way, I at once struck out
for Horseshoe station, which was twenty-five miles distant. I had hard
traveling at first, but upon reaching lower and better ground, I made
good headway, walking all night and getting into the station just before
daylight,--foot-sore, weary, and generally played out.
I immediately waked up the men of the station and told them of my
adventure. Slade himself happened to be there, and he at once organized
a party to go out and hunt up the horse-thieves. Shortly after daylight
twenty well-armed stage-drivers, stock-tenders and ranchmen were
galloping in the direction of the dug-out. Of course I went along with
the party, notwithstanding I was very tired and had had hardly any rest
at all. We had a brisk ride, and arrived in the immediate vicinity of
the thieves' rendezvous at about ten o'clock in the morning. We
approached the dug-out cautiously, but upon getting in close proximity
to it we could discover no horses in sight. We could see the door of the
dug-out standing wide open, and we then marched up to the place. No one
was inside, and the general appearance of everything indicated that the
place had been deserted--that the birds had flown. Such, indeed, proved
to be the case.
We found a new-made grave, where they had evidently buried the man whom I
had shot. We made a thorough search of the whole vicinity, and finally
found their trail going southeast in the direction of Denver. As it would
have been useless to follow them, we rode back to the station; and thus
ended my eventful bear-hunt. We had no more trouble for some time from
horse-thieves after that.
During the winter of 1860 and the spring of 1861 I remained at Horseshoe,
occasionally riding pony express and taking care of stock.