AMONG THE FOOT HILLS AND TROUBLESOME INDIANS
If you will take your atlas, and look on the map of Wyoming, at the base
of the Wind Mountains, the most rugged group of the Rockies, you will
find South Pass, with the headwaters of the Sweetwater River, cutting a
canyon through it. Going westward from this point and following the
Sweetwater River, we came to the headwater, which was called Atlantic
Springs. A few hundred yards beyond, we came to the Pacific Springs.
This small strip of land is the water shed or dividing point between the
two oceans. The water which bubbles up from the Atlantic Springs, races
eastward through the rocky canyon of the Sweetwater and to the Platte
and from the Platte to the Missouri, thence the Mississippi, uniting
with the waters of the Ohio, Illinois, Tennesse and Cumberland, the
Monongahela, of the Allegheny Mountains, finally reaching Gulf of Mexico
and the Atlantic Ocean.
But should you follow the course of the sparkling water that gushes from
the Pacific Springs, you would course along the Big Sandy to the Green
River, which cuts its way through the sand and rocks of that rough and
tumble country of northern Utah and northwestern Colorado. Launch your
boat on the turbulent waters and drift, if you were not capsized, in
southern Utah, you would come to Colorado River and then soon in the
shadows of the most wonderful canyons which scar Mother Earth, the
Cataract, Marble and Grand Canyons, of world renown. These livid
seething waters find rest in the bosom of the great Pacific.
We trailed westward across the Pacific Springs on the Bear River which
flowed south to Bear Lake in the northern part of Utah. We were on what
was called Fremont and Carson route. This lead southwest to Salt Lake
City. When north of Salt Lake City, we came to what was called the
Truckey route. This route left Salt Lake City to our left. We were
behind all the other trains and it had been reported that the Mormons
had killed a whole train of men, women and children, for plunder and had
laid it onto the Indians. Old Brigham Young had sent what he called his
"Destroying Angels" and had murdered all of them and took all the stock
and wagons. We decided to take the Truckey route and keep away from
Brigham Young and his "destroying angels."
Perhaps one of the most interesting things I saw while traveling through
the Bear River country in southern Utah, was a lava bed, about fifty or
sixty feet high and I judge about two hundred feet wide at the base. At
the crest, the lava was bubbling out as clear as water and running down
the side of the mound, it would cool and turn into rock, forming a rocky
mound. I saw three such mounds of lava or rock, which had been formed
this way. The soil in the Bear River bottom was rich, black soil, and I
thought what a pity it was that it should be covered with these mounds
of lava.
There was a grave at the foot of this mound with a head board, on which
we were informed that the deceased had drunk of the lava water and had
died in a few minutes and that the water was poison.
We came across what was called Soda Springs and the water was as fine as
any I had ever drank, and it came out of the ground foaming, a veritable
natural soda water fountain. We also saw the Steam Boat Springs, which
gushed from a hole in the basin of rock. The water was boiling hot and
it bubbled and sizzled like boiling water on a stove. It would boil for
a short time and then the steam would shoot up about fifteen feet high.
Below this spring and near the river, was a strip of rocks about twenty
feet wide, that seemed to be in motion with heat. The water in the river
was so hot we could not hold our hands in it for two or three rods along
the banks.
Down the river and off to one side, we came to Bear Rock. This rock was
cut up with great crevices and if a man or beast had fallen into one of
them, they would have disappeared from view in the bowels of the earth.
I threw a rock into one of them and heard it rattling down into the
depths until the sound gradually died away in what appeared to be
bottomless. This serrated rock appeared to be about three miles across
and it was the most dangerous place we had encountered. It had to be
crossed as it was the path of the trail. A road had been made by wedging
rock in the crevices and by means of picks, the way had been smoothed
down so we were able to get across without serious accident.
While near Bear River, James Bailey and John Ferril were driving a cow
whose feet were so worn that she could not keep up with the rest of the
drove. The boys would drive her along slowly and arrive late in the
evening at the camp. She was a big red cow and uncle hated to lose her,
but one evening she laid down and the boys could not whip her up and
they had to come to camp without her. The next morning uncle sent Jim
and I after her. As we came in sight of her, an awful sight came to our
view. A pack of wolves were around her, snarling and gnashing on all
sides. The cow was making a desperate struggle to keep off the ravenous
wolves. When we saw the condition, we rode as fast as we could and the
wolves took to the tall grass. We found the hind quarter of the cow
bleeding and in some places the flesh was stripped off to the bone.
There was nothing to do but to put her out of her misery, which I did
with a shot from my gun.
Jim held my horse and I went near enough to the grass to shoot at them
as they ventured out of the grass. I could not tell whether I killed
any of them or not as they would leap back in the grass. I had in mind
to go nearer to the grass to see the result of my shots, when Jim called
to me and said, "Wash, come quick. Get on your horse, the grass is alive
with them."
When I got on my horse, I could see on both sides of the trail the grass
all in motion with the cat like movements of the wolves. We could not
see them, but the waving grass showed that it was full of them. We put
spurs to our horses and when we got to a safe distance, we stopped and
looked back. The wolves had come out of the grass and were pilled upon
the cow, resembling a small hay stack.
One day soon after this, when we had made a noon stop, an Indian chief,
who could talk our language, told us that his men, while hunting, had
found a white man who was nearly starved to death, and that he had
carried him to his lodge. Uncle and some more of the men went with him
to see if he was strong enough to be taken along. They found him too
weak to be moved. After a council between uncle and the chief, it was
decided to leave him there and the chief promised to look after him and
when he was strong enough, that he would put him on a pony and send him
to Salt Lake City. I believe the man was left in good hands and that the
chief was a man of his word.
We were now coming to the desert country of Nevada and our cattle had
been without water for a day, when we came to what is known as Poison
Water. To get across this little stream, we put the cattle in bunches of
twelve and whipped them across, not letting them stop to drink. We got
all of our stock across without being poisoned. After we got across, on
the side of the hill, we saw the awful effects of the poison water, as
there were hundreds of dead cattle and rods at a time, we could step on
dead cattle without stepping on the ground.
After we got back on the Freemont and Carson route and were making for
the headwaters of the Humbolt River, we found some fair grass land for
the stock. We followed the Humbolt River for many miles until we came to
the Humbolt Sink. At first it was as smooth as a rock for some distance,
but later we dropped off into sand and it was the worst travelling I
ever saw. The sand was so light and fine, that one foot would go down
until I would set the other foot on top of the sand and pull that foot
out, before I could step one foot ahead of the other. It was about the
same sort of motion and as slow as treading water. We were three days
and nights crossing that desert.
After getting across this desert stretch, we came to the banks of the
Carson River, which we were to follow for many miles to the borders of
California. When we reached Carson River, we came to a trader's pound,
constructed of wagon tires and log chains. It was about the size of an
ordinary city lot. There were tires lengthwise and crosswise, hind wheel
tires, front wheel tires and log chains, bound together in all kinds of
shapes. There were tons of steel in that fence. We came across another
pound on the Carson River, near the Sierra Nevada Mountains, built of
logs. The logs were 100 feet or over in length and had notches cut in
them. These logs were placed in two rows and were crossed by small logs
resting in the notches. It was built high enough so that stock could not
jump over.
One night when we were afraid the Indians would come in on us, a double
guard was put on duty. Four men stood guard in the fore part of the
night and four in the after part. The eight men to do duty were all the
men in my mess. Uncle said that the bacon was getting low and that he
wanted some one of our mess, to get up early and help kill a beef. I
told him to have some of the men in the other mess to help, as we would
be on guard duty all night. Uncle said, "All right."
The men of my mess had killed all the beeves and mutton up to that time.
We did not care, nor did we think much about it, as one of our men was
a butcher. The next morning uncle called for some one to get up and help
him kill a beef. He called the second and third time, and no one got up
and he said, "If no one will get up and help, you will do without meat."
Two of the men in my mess said, "If the other fellows will not help, we
will."
I did not help as I was willing to do without meat rather than help
after being on guard about all night. When I got up, I went over to the
other camp to see what was the matter and why they would not help to
kill the beef. They had all gone to look after the stock except John and
Tom Brooks. Tom, the cook, did not have to help with the other work. I
asked, "John, why did not you fellows get up this morning and help
uncle?"
He looked at me, wrinkled up his face, swore and said as hateful as he
could, "You will be a good deal prettier than you are, before I will
help kill a beef."
"Johnny," I replied, "If you don't propose to do your part, you might
get a dose you would not like so well."
I thought I would go back to my camp and say nothing more about it. I
started off and had gone about a rod, when John said, "Now you go off to
your own camp, or I will put Tom at you."
I turned around and looked at him and remarked, "You low lived
insignificant scoundrel, you will put Tom at me?"
"Yes, and if you don't go to your own home, I will get at you," Tom cut
in.
"You big necked, nigerfied, curly-headed villian, you will get at me?" I
replied.
At that he came running toward me and as he came near, he ducked his
head to butt me in the stomach. When I saw that, I ran backwards a
little to kill the shock and I reached down and caught him in the cheek,
gave him a jerk, and he fell on his back. He fell near the hind wheel of
a wagon. He pulled himself up by holding to the wheel and I got him by
the throat and pushed him back between the wheel and the bed, and beat
his face and head like he did poor Jim Greek and gave him some for
Nailor and some for abusing aunt, and some for jumping on to me. When I
got through, he had a plenty and the great fighter was badly whipped and
he had not given me a scratch.
This was the first fight I had ever had and I found out afterwards that
he had told the boys, that if any of his mess helped kill the beef, they
would have had him to whip first. Aunt saw the commotion and called for
me to come to their camp fire and get my breakfast. She said, "I am
going to give you the best breakfast you ever had on the plains, for
whipping that low lived, good for nothing, Tom Brooks."
I ate breakfast with aunt--was the best meal on the plains and the only
time I had eaten with her. Tom Brooks behaved after that.
One morning we missed a cow out of the herd. Several of us went to find
her. We hunted for quite a while and finally all came back to camp with
the exception of my brother, Crawford Bailey and Wint Crumley. There was
a willow thicket along the river and they got out of sight of us. They
had found the trail of the cow and followed it. The camp had moved on
down the trail while George Bailey had taken his gun and went on foot to
kill an antelope. While hunting on the side of the trail, he was
surprised to see Crawford and Wint running their horses around a bend in
the river. He made for the trail just in time to catch one of the horses
by the tail and by that means, kept up with the fleeing men. The Indians
who were after them, tried to cut them off, but when they came in sight
of the camp, they gave up the chase and disappeared. The two boys had
followed the track of the cow into a willow thicket and they came across
the Indians with a cow's hide stretched across poles, scrapping it ready
for tanning. The Indians saw them and gave chase, but the fleetness of
the horses and George's lucky hold on the tail of the horse, saved
their scalps.
A few nights after this incident, we had to drive late to get to where
there was a good place to camp. It was dusk when we camped. We had to
turn off to the right of the main trail and the river bent off to the
north and I think it was a quarter of a mile from the main trail to
where we camped. We had built our fires and were just ready to commence
getting supper, when we heard the Indians begin holloing, "Show shony,
show shony, humbugen, humbugen oss cawaw cawaw, cawowaw cawowaw cawowaw
cawaw cawaw."
The first time they holloed this, uncle Joshua Bailey said, "There! We
are going to be attacked. That is the war whoop. Put out the fires and
corral the wagons."
The wagons were placed in a circle, running the tongues under each other
so we could get inside and protect ourselves from their arrows as much
as possible. When we got that done, which was in short order, he said,
"All hands load your guns and your revolvers and have your knives
ready."
We had been so long on the road that everybody had become careless. Some
of the guns had not been used for a long time and were rusty and others
had no bullets. Some had to prepare their guns, while others tried to
run bullets. We had what we called ladles to melt lead in. They were
made of wooden pieces split out of oak or some other kind of hard
timber, four square, with one end hewed round for the handle, the other
end, that is, the square end, had a hole cut down in with the corner of
the ax. We would put lead in this ladle and put coals of fire in on the
lead and blow the coals with our breath, and which would not make much
light.
Joel Bailey, my cousin, had run off from home when a small boy, got on a
steam boat at Ripley, Ohio, worked his passage as dish washer, and had
gone to Wisconsin, where my three uncles were. While there, Joel got
acquainted with the Indians and their ways more than I did, but I had
got pretty well acquainted by this time myself.
Aunt Susan Bailey was crying and talking to uncle and saying, "O,
Bailey, why did you bring us all out here to be killed by the Indians."
"We had treaties and I did not think they would bother us," replied
uncle.
Bellry Bailey, their eldest daughter, was of age, and Rachel Ann, the
next daughter, was nearly of age, together with Aunt Susan and the rest
of the little boys and girls of the camp were crying, and there in the
utter darkness, it was hard to tell who were or were not crying.
Joel Bailey, I knew, was a coward when he was sober, but when under the
influence of liquor, he was not afraid of anything. All at once he
holloed out, "If any other man will go with me, we will go out and see
what those fellows want."
I thought he was doing it for bluff, so I said, "I'll go with you."
"Well, go and equip yourself," answered Joel.
I replied, "What kind of equipment do you want me to have, a double
barreled rifle, shotgun and a Colts revolver and a bowie-knife?"
We had some of the guns in order, having been used for hunting purposes
and Joel and I knew it, but someone handed me a Colts revolver, for they
knew I had only a single barreled pistol; another a combination gun,
which had a rifle barrel and shot gun barrel on the same stock. Joel was
equipped by the time I was. The Indians commenced holloing again, up the
river behind us, where we had come just before camping. They would come
down closer and then stop and hollo the same words. I will never forget
them while I live.
We started out and the men began to beg us not to go, for they thought
we would be killed. I informed them that I had promised to go and that
I was going to go if Joel did not back out. The Indians by this time had
located our camp and were holloing again. Uncle Joshua came outside the
wagons, got one foot on the hub of the hind wheel, held to the bow of
the wagon cover, and plead for us to come back and all fight and die
together. Joel turned and told him with an oath, that if he didn't hush,
he would shoot him, so uncle said no more. It was an awful dark night
and one could not tell one another at all, only by bulk and that not
more than a few feet from each other. We walked straight as we could
toward the sound of the Indians' voices. We got out of the sound of the
crying and lamenting at the camp and Joel said, "Wash, I want to tell
you something. I have been drinking wine and my head is not exactly
level and I will have to depend on you to do the guessing for me."
Later we heard voices and Joel whispered, "There are the chiefs giving
the command and if we can get them, we can save the train, that is if we
can get them before you hear the screech raise in the camp. But if you
hear the screech raise in the camp before we get the chiefs, we will
have to give leg bail for security, for we are all the ones that will
get out alive."
"Where did you get your wine," I asked.
"In that wagon I am driving," said Joel. "Uncle Josh has a keg of wine
in that wagon and if we can get those chiefs, you shall have wine to
drink as long as that keg lasts."
I did not know there had been a bit of liquor of any kind in the train
for over two thousand miles and I was puzzled to know what to do with a
man under the influence of wine, whether to go back to camp or go on and
try to take the chiefs. But I concluded to go ahead and try it, for Joel
had said that the Indians would do nothing without their chiefs first
giving the command.
The chiefs kept going on west and north, circling around our camp. Every
time they would hollo, giving commands to their tribe, we would have to
change our course and go more to our right in order to follow their
voices, for that was all we had to go by, for a man could not see six
feet to tell where they were. The chiefs got straight west of us down
the river below our camp. I think fully a mile from our camp, and we
could hear over a mile on a still night.
The chiefs stopped and remained in one place and holloed the same "Show
shoney humbugen oss humbugen oss cawaw cawaw cawowaw cawowaw cawaw
cawaw." I could tell by the sound of their voices, after I got pretty
close to them, that they laid down every time they holloed. Joel had
told me that when close enough and thought I could guess the distance,
we must count our steps and walk right straight to the sound of their
voices. When we had stepped to where I thought they were, for me to stop
and he would hollo as loud as he could, "howdy doo."
"They can't keep their mouth shut and they will say 'howdy doo' too,
then you show one of them how you do and I will show the other one how I
do. Take him or die. Kill him if you have to take him dead, and I will
take the other one or I'll die."
We stationed ourselves to where their voices sounded close to us, and
when they holloed again, I whispered to Joel, "About fifty steps, Joel,
for your life."
I don't believe I missed it two feet. Joel's head was level enough to
count his steps right, for we both stopped at once. As we went along,
Joel bore over toward me. I was taller than he. I kept holding him over
to the left, for I thought he was trying to go too far to the right for
the sound of their voices. When we got to where they were laying in the
grass, they were several feet apart. We were between them.
"How do you do?" holloed Joel.
"Howdy doo," said the Indian at my right.
Joel jumped across in front of me, right onto the Indian, and said with
a big word, "I'll show you how I do."
As Joel passed in front of me, I looked quickly over to my left, for the
voice I had been listening to. It sounded more to the left, when I saw
something in the dark. I thought it might be the other Indian's head. I
jumped toward it. When I lit, I could see the object more plainly and I
made the second jump as far as I could and grabbed with my left hand. My
fingers struck his head under the plat of his hair. He pulled and
twisted, thrust his feet forward and threw his weight on my arm, but I
jammed him up by the hair and told him if he made a move to hurt me, I
would cut his heart out.
"O, Wash!" called Joel, "Have you got your'n?"
"Yes," I replied, "I've got him by the hair of his head, with my left
hand behind his back, and my bowie-knife drawn on him, and if he makes a
move to hurt me, I'll cut his heart out. Have you got yours?"
"I've got him in the same fix," was the reply.
As we talked, we were pushing toward each other, until I could see Joel
and his Indian. I told Joel not to get too close, so that if they go to
do anything, we wouldn't hurt each other.
When we neared the camp, uncle Joshua holloed, "Boys, have you got 'em?"
"Yes, we've got 'em," said Joel.
Uncle evidently did not hear and he yelled, "O, Wash, have you got 'em?"
"Yes," I holloed as loud as I could, "I've got one by the hair of his
head and I'll cut his heart out if he makes a bad move. Joel's got his
in the same fix."
"Hold on to them boys," uncle said, "Hold on to them. We will start up
the fires so you can see where to come," and the fires lit up mighty
quick.
I shoved up on my Indian's hair and made him tramp up. When we got to
where Aunt Susan Bailey, Bellry and Rachel could see us with the
Indians, they commenced to jump up and down and clap their hands,
exclaiming, "O, Goody, goody," the tears running down their faces. The
little boys and girls all joined in.
When the camp got more settled, the other men started out to look after
the stock and we had uncle with his seven shot Colt rifle watching the
Indians. Joel and I untied the Indians' belts and took their tomahocks,
knives, bows and arrows from them. Each had a fox skin full of arrows.
We were going to hide them, when all at once the Indian I had taken in,
commenced holloing, "Show shoney humbugen--"
But that was as far as he got, when we holloed to uncle, "Knock him
down, knock him down, don't let him hollo."
We dropped the belts and Indian weapons and ran back with our fists
shut, ready to strike as soon as we could get to him. Uncle had his fist
dawn to strike, but grabbed his Colts rifle which was leaning against a
wagon, and drew his gun on them both and said, "Drop to the ground or
I'll blow both your brains out."
They dropped flat on their faces.
"Now," said uncle, "If you fellows move or say a word until tomorrow
morning at sun up, I'll blow your brains out."
They lay there all night and did not move until after sun up the next
morning.
The men gathered up the stock and saw to them as well as they could and
then came in and got their suppers. It was getting late by this time.
Uncle sat in his place and watched the Indians all night. All the men
guarded the stock and the camp except Joel and I. The men told us that
we were excused from further duty and that Joel and I might go to bed
and sleep. We were the only men in the train that slept any that night.
I don't believe the women slept much either.
The next morning we held a council concerning these chiefs. Uncle had
more experience with Indians than the rest of us.
"If we kill them," said uncle, "The whole tribe might come on us, and if
we took them along, the other Indians would see us and they might come
onto us and overpower us. The best thing we can do, is to give them
their breakfast and treat them well and let them go, and maybe they'll
not bother us any more."
This we did. That morning we got a late start. The sun was way up and it
must have been about nine o'clock before we drove out.
While we were eating our dinner the following day, some Indians came to
us--one was a chief of another tribe. He was an educated chief and could
talk our language. We had just gotten out of the tribe's territory where
we had the time the night before. He told my uncle and my brother,
Crawford, that those chiefs, whom Joel and I had taken, were bad men,
and if we had brought them with us, they would have fixed them for us
and that those bad chiefs had no more idea of our men going out and
jumping onto them, than nothing in the world, and that that was all that
saved us. He also stated that the bad Indians did not care how many of
their men they lost, just so they accomplished the killing of the white
people and got their stock.
Joel kept his word in reference to the wine. He drove the ox team and
wagon in which was the wine, also the bedding for uncle's family. He
would claim he was sleepy, get the girls to drive for him, get the
drinking cup, fill it two-thirds full when their backs were turned, and
then come running and holloing for me to hold up, for he wanted a drink,
as I had a keg of water in the hind end of my wagon. He would never
spill a bit of it. I would drink part of it and Joel never let the rest
go to waste. Joel was the prettiest runner I ever saw. He could run so
level, that his head looked like it was sailing through the air. I
never saw him outrun, and I had seen him run with some who were counted
fast. He brought me wine several times. I asked him one day, how much
wine there was in that keg.
"O! There's right smart of it," he replied.
I told him not to bring me any more, and that was the last he brought
me, but I heard it was dry before we got through.