A TEMPEST--THE BRUTE WITH NO RHEUMATIC PITY--AN IMPROMPTU
GALLOWS--HANGING A RASCAL--MY STAGE WARDROBE--UNDER WATER WITH A
WATER-TIGHT WAGON--THE KEG OF WHISKEY--ITS UNFORESEEN RESULTS--A
MOUNTAIN CANNON--NATURAL SODA-WATER--AN INDIAN ATTACK--RAISING MY
FIRST HAIR--TAKING A LESSON FROM THE RED MAN--BRITISH
CRITICISM--THE VALLEY OF A THOUSAND SPRINGS.
The rest which had been given the horses partially restored them, and on
the following day the train was again in motion.
After reaching what is known by the old Emigrants as the last crossing
of the Sweet Water, Captain Crim decided to take a road farther north
than the usual one. He had crossed the plains several times before.
Knowing that the Sublett's route and Headspath Cut-off, as well as the
Salt Lake line of travel, were peculiarly hard upon stock, he determined
this time, to try a track of his own.
We therefore followed up the Sweet Water, crossing it repeatedly, and at
length passed the Rocky Mountains. Thence we went to Green River.
This river presented us with great difficulties to find a place for
passing it. The current is, at all times, swift and strong. On this
occasion it was greatly swollen, in consequence of the heavy snows of
the preceding winter, higher in the mountains. After hunting for an
available ford more than half a day, one was at last discovered, and
the horses were brought over without the slightest loss.
That night, however, we experienced a fearful storm, or rather a
hurricane.
It was indeed such a tempest as I had never yet experienced. Neither has
it had its parallel since in the whole records of the Storm Bureau
established in Washington. The rain and hail descended in literal sheets
of water and ice. The camp-fires were extinguished by their fury. Tents
were torn down and the wagons containing our stores were flooded. The
lightning blazed incessantly, and the thunder seemed to roll in one
continuous peal.
Luckily for us, it was not of long duration. In some three hours it had
spent its fury. Yet its effects were felt by some of us, for a length of
time. Poor Pigeon especially was taken down by it with a severe attack
of inflammatory rheumatism. Since his name was first mentioned, it has
not again recurred. However, his sickness here forces him upon my notice
in connection with another member of our party.
The next morning, all damage having been repaired, the train was again
in motion.
Having passed the three Tetons, gigantic sentinels projected from the
main range of mountains, we followed a little stream which Crim
christened Pine Creek. Beyond this, we unexpectedly came upon a vast
belt of snow, extending through the Wind River Range. With three
companions, I went over it as far as Salt Creek. It was found to be
completely impassable for the horses, averaging from six to twenty feet
in depth.
After holding a council, Captain Crim decided upon striking directly
south until we should reach Sublett's Cut-off. Consequently we had to
retrace our steps, and encamped some twenty miles down Pine Creek, for
the purpose of doing that class of reconnoitering which is nothing else
than exploring.
Here it is, that we have once more to do with Pigeon.
There was a man who had some interest in a small portion of the stock.
For want of a better and less appropriate name, I may as well call him
Rascall. While delayed in our enforced encampment, some of us were
occupied in grazing the stock. Others were exploring in every direction
for a means of crossing the belt of snow which hedged us in from our
westerly route. Rascall had nothing to do. Poor Pigeon was lying in his
wagon, as helpless from rheumatic pain as the train was in presence of
its blockading impediment. Rascall, having no rheumatic pity, took
advantage of the solitary and forlorn Pigeon, by ordering him out of the
wagon. In vain did the poor devil remonstrate with him. He was utterly
unable to move. Rascall determined upon proving this, and being alone
with Pigeon in the camp, tried the common experiment of brutes, by
thrashing him in the most unmerciful manner possible.
Like many other brutes, he did this without counting the possible
consequences.
On the return of the boys to the camp, they heard of this from Pigeon,
who was, from his harmless good temper, a general if somewhat despised
favorite. Naturally enough, their contempt was forgotten in their pity.
They determined upon a queer revenge for his treatment of poor Pigeon.
They, consequently, rigged up an impromptu gallows by joining two wagon
poles together. From this they suspended a full-length portrait of the
offender, although, at first, serious thoughts had been entertained of
suspending himself.
It would be needless to say that the likeness was scarcely of sufficient
academic correctness to have justified its limner in claiming any
position as a portrait-painter.
Seeing this, in order to avoid any mistakes, with the artist's
permission, I inscribed beneath it "RASCAL," in very unmistakable
letters.
Either the portrait or the name had an immediate effect. Captain Crim,
who certainly had an artistic eye for painting or printing, one or both,
as well as an unmistakable love of justice, saw it. He immediately
inquired into the matter, and then visited Pigeon. The poor fellow's
statement was enough. As has been seen, Crim was not a man of many
words, but of very decisive temper. He expelled Rascall from the camp,
and it was only after some four or five days' wandering in its vicinity,
and imploring any of us he chanced to meet for pardon, that on
consultation with his boys the Captain finally allowed him to re-enter
it.
At length, a way out of our difficulty was found. Through deep gorges
and cañons we reached Lambert Creek, and after following it for some
distance, crossed it, finding ourselves once more in the Green River
region. Thence, striking across a lower range of mountains, we came to
Sublett's Cut-off.
Shortly after this, above Ham's Fork an accident occurred to one of the
wagons, which, although of slight account to the train, was of serious
moment to myself.
In passing this stream, the wagon containing, with other property, the
whole of my wardrobe, stage and otherwise, sprung a leak. It should be
mentioned that wagons for crossing the Plains, are, for obvious
reasons, generally made water-tight. Being struck by an undercurrent
which rendered it impossible to move it rapidly, it foundered with all
its contents. Seeing the mishap from the shore, our Captain sung out to
the boys to save whatever of the unlive stock in it they could. However,
without waiting for orders, I and Brighton Bill, whose personal property
had gone under the water with mine, had both rushed to the scene of our
loss, and entering the stream, were hard at work.
We remained in that wretched Fork for five hours, fishing out of it, as
it seemed, everything but our own property. Necessarily, much besides
this was lost. The infernal undertow of the stream carried all it could
bear with it, away. Not only had it plundered me of my stage-wardrobe,
but of the whole of my wearing apparel, exclusive of that I then stood
upright in. Not even a single shirt was left me. At length, when it was
evident no hope remained of finding it, sulkily angry, wet and chilled
not only to the bone, but to my very marrow, I struggled, with the
well-nigh as miserable Bill, to the farther bank. Here we found Captain
Crim awaiting us. At his side, stood a consolatory keg of whiskey, and
in his hand was the immortal tin-cup, so lovingly identified with daily
life on the Plains, and the early history of our nation upon the Pacific
coast. He was a sagaciously provident leader. Praiseworthily interested
in our health, he supplied both of us with a liberal cupful of the
fortifying elixir. Hungry, as well as cold, for it was now three o'clock
in the afternoon, and I had eaten nothing since morning, I forgot my
usual prudence, and asked him for another cupful of the inspiring fluid.
"Do you think you can stand it, Mose?" was his far from unnatural
inquiry.
The whiskey had not yet sufficient time to put an end to the shivering
produced by my protracted cold bath. My teeth were actually chattering
in my head, with a castanet accompaniment to my discomfort.
"Certainly-a-a-a, I can-n-n-n, Cap!"
"The cup holds a good half-pint."
"And I have been-n-n-n in the water ha-a-a-lf a day, Captain!"
"Very well!" he replied, with a commiserating look at my
drowned-rat-like appearance, "you shall have it."
He very certainly would never have allowed me to soak so much inwardly,
had it not been for my thorough outward soaking. Nor, indeed, but for my
tribulation under my recent loss, should I have desired such an inward
soaking. As I swallowed the whiskey, I felt my whole frame bursting into
a tingling and generous glow. However, nothing more is remembered by me
until the following morning.
Then I awoke in Captain Crim's tent. I had been stripped to the skin and
wrapped in a blanket.
My clothes, now, alas! my only suit, had been removed from my person by
his orders, and dried at a large fire, whose smouldering embers were in
the last stage of inanition without the tent. They were lying beside me.
It was with a somewhat sheepish look, I imagine, that I got into them,
for the Captain was already out and about. What blowing up might be in
store for me from such a rigid disciplinarian as he was, I could
scarcely imagine.
As I went, or to speak more truly, sneaked out into the sharp morning
air, what was my surprise to hear him say, in a cheery voice:
"Well, Mose! You are all right now, are you not? To work, my lad! I wish
all my boys were like you and Bill! You worked yesterday, like a couple
of heroes."
It was an agreeable reception, and so widely different from the one I
had anticipated, that for the moment I forgot my loss. Straightening
myself up, with a modest disclaimer of his praise, I resolved to keep my
intended apology under the lock and key of a silent tongue.
It was, I think, about noon, some two weeks after this, we reached Bear
River. Following its course until we came to Soda Springs, our camp was
pitched for the night, between them and the silenced volcanic crater
beyond.
This has been so often described, that to do so again would be a waste
of words. But on a hunting trip some ten miles more or less North, I
discovered another natural curiosity, to which I was the first to call
attention. On entering a small valley, I heard a continuous whizzing and
grumbling noise, which was unlike anything I had before listened to.
Looking around, I saw in the scarped face of an almost perpendicular
mountain a cavity some twenty-five or thirty feet above the level on
which I was standing. From this cavity came a broad and persistent jet
of steam. This evidently caused the sound which had startled me. It was
the result of volcanic action of some description, although I was
scarcely scientific enough, even in a small way, to reason this out.
Suddenly, without the slightest note of preparation, a huge ball of hot
mud and fragments of stone was projected across the valley from this
opening in the precipice. It was followed by a sharp roar, like the
report from some heavy piece of artillery.
As I stood watching the orifice from which the jet of steam poured for
some twelve or thirteen minutes, this phenomenon was repeated, and in
something more than an hour I counted some five repetitions of it.
Farther up the valley, which was about a hundred and fifty yards in
width, according to a rough guess, I came to another curious phenomenon.
Opposite this natural cannon, the valley formed a broad semicircle, and
on the extreme side of this was a tolerably large plateau of hard and
sandy soil, from the summit of which I heard a singular hissing sound.
Hobbling my horse below, I climbed to the summit of this, and my
curiosity was rewarded by the discovery of another freak of Nature. The
summit of the plateau was surrounded with a number of funnel-shaped
apertures, from which water constantly rose and fell again, bubbling and
sparkling like the contents of a soda-water bottle after the cork has
been removed. The taste of this water, which was warm, was, however,
scarcely so agreeable as the temperance beverage to which I have
compared it.
Slightly behind me, the natural cannon still continued to belch forth
its projectiles from the scarp of the rocky fortalice in which they were
stored. Here, perhaps, were a number of relief-valves which prevented
its destruction by a wider and more devastating explosion.
There is naturally small marvel that on this day I killed no game. My
time had been too much occupied in the examination of these singular
exhibitions of created oddity, for me to track deer or buffalo, if
indeed any were in the neighborhood.
For what reason I can scarcely say, the name I gave this place was
Death's Head Valley. It retains it to the present day.
Our camp was broken up on the next morning, and we continued, in an
almost westerly line, our course. We were advancing into a thickly
inhabited Indian country. From time to time what we believed signals
were given and answered from either side of the train. No Indians were,
however, visible.
It became clear, when we encamped for the night by Raft River, that if
the natives put in any show at all, it would be a hostile one.
The result of this was, that after our brief supper was over, Captain
Crim detailed me to make a reconnoissance of the country round our
camping-place. We had long since begun to employ military terms. The
reconnoissance proved him to have been right. Low and partially
smothered Indian fires were detected by me, through the smoke rising
from them, upon every side, and on my report being made, our guards for
the night were doubled.
Next day, by its events, amply proved the advisability of this
vigilance.
We had reached the City of Rocks, some seven or eight miles from the
point at which we had crossed the last-mentioned stream. The advanced
guard under me were moving cautiously along, exploring, almost, I had
said, every inch of the road, and occasionally throwing a quick and
marvellous glance at the springing spires, stretching battlements,
cupolas and towers which bore witness to the plentiful imagination of
the great Primal Architect and Supreme Master Mason of the earth, when
we began to discover visible traces of Indian life. Some ten minutes
after, the whole of this strange city of the unliving was literally
blackened by live and threatening red-skins. The word, inappropriate as
it may be to their color, must be pardoned. There was, and consequently
is, no more time to pick phrases than to indulge in any descriptive
power I may possess.
Giving the alarm, we fell back on the main body of our party.
Never before had I so much occasion afforded me to admire the natural
nerve and military capacity of our leader, in a position of emergency.
The wagons of the train were formed in a close circle, with the horses
hobbled inside, so as to prevent the chance of a stampede.
As for ourselves, we were posted under cover of our improvised
fortification, to await the attack, which was not long before it burst
upon us.
These preparations had been as speedily made, as the orders had been
readily given.
They did not take the boys more than ten minutes. Nor had we been any
too rapid in perfecting them.
A description of the fight would be impossible for me, as I only could
detail that portion of it in which I was bodily concerned. It may be
sufficient to say, that the first pitched battle with the red man, in
which I was concerned, lasted for perhaps some fifteen minutes. The
savages then seemed to have enough of it, and retired in admirable
disorder. The right term would possibly be this--they ran away.
Dashing out after them, we followed the flying red-skins for some
distance, and I had the satisfaction of raising my first hair, or in the
language of the East, taking my first scalp.
An Indian, who concealed himself behind a large rock, discharged four
arrows at me almost with the continuous rapidity of the lightning in the
tempest we had so recently experienced. But what might be good for the
goose might be equally good for the gander. Rocks were at a fairly large
discount in that city of them. Taking advantage of one of these, I
seized the opportunity afforded me by an unguarded movement of the enemy
and dropped him with a bullet through his brain.
Some three more dead Indians lay scattered round the wagons, while only
one of our men had received any hurt. He was an Irishman, who had
received a shot in the right side. It had been made with a ragged ball,
which had torn his flesh frightfully. However, the wound did not prove
fatal.
The City of Rocks was now quiet enough, and shortly after Captain Crim
gave orders for again starting.
Very necessarily, we were too fully employed in discussing our first
Indian fight (or more properly perhaps I was, as several of my
companions had crossed the Plains before) to indulge in a prolonged
examination of the quaint, natural architecture through which we were
moving.
On arriving at sundown near Goose Creek, our captain decided upon an
extended examination of the country round, before entering the cañon.
His reason for this was, that, on two previous occasions, the Indians
had in this locality robbed him of all his horses, leaving him to find
his way to California on foot. Little wisdom exceeds that which is
taught us by past misfortune. At least, I may safely swear that I have
generally found this to be the case.
Our men were accordingly divided into three parties, of tolerably equal
numbers.
One had the care of the train and horses. Another had to pass across the
mountains on the right, and the last, those on the left of the cañon.
Crim did me the honor of detailing me in command of the second party,
because his past experience had convinced him this was the side from
which most danger might be expected, and as he was pleased to observe, I
"had not only pluck enough for anything, but plenty of prudence." In the
first part of this compliment, I completely justify his eulogy. The
second portion of it may be subject to more question, especially when my
youth is remembered.
My party consisted of twenty-eight of the best men connected with the
train, amongst whom were Brighton Bill.
Some three miles along the side of the cañon we began to move in regular
Indian fashion, singly and as quietly as we could, availing ourselves of
every cover possible. Neither was this one whit too soon. As we crept
over a small hill, we discovered, not more than six hundred yards from
us, a party of red-skins. These were some fifty in number.
Luckily, perhaps, I had been the first of my party. Dropping as if I had
been picked off by a bullet, I motioned my men to imitate me.
Then, placing my linger on my lips with a warning movement, we began
crawling to the right, behind a number of huge rocks, and managed to
advance to within some two hundred yards of them, without giving them
the slightest alarm. The red devils were watching the movement of the
train as, below them, it wound slowly up the cañon. More than probably,
if they could count the number of boys we had left with it, they were
congratulating themselves on the way, in which they must have supposed,
they had thinned us out.
Raising my rifle I took deliberate aim, in which I was imitated by the
rest of my party. Each of us had selected his own man.
The report of my weapon was followed simultaneously almost by the whole
of those of my fellows, ringing out sharply and clearly.
As the smoke cleared away immediately after, we saw the whole of the
Indians, who had not been slain, flying at the top of their speed across
the mountain.
Twenty-three of them were on the ground, dying or dead, of which five
were undoubtedly white men. Brighton Bill gazed upon the dead bodies
reflectively.
"You're as good as an Injin, Mose!" he said. "But look 'ere. Wouldn't it
'ave been better to give 'em the lead, face to face."
"D' yer think the skulking beasts would ha' given yer a fair chance?"
This was said by one of the most silent men, and best shots, who had
enlisted with Captain Crim.
"That's so, for sartain!" cried one of my boys, with an oath.
"I jist tell yer, Cap!" said the man who had replied to Brighton Bill,
as he kicked over one of the dead bodies in which a ball had perforated
the skull--probably it was that of the Indian he had drawn a bead on,
"this was a darned square bit of Injin cunning. Yer've shown 'em, two
can play their game. I'm proud to sarve under yer."
Brighton Bill said no more.
He was evidently thinking profoundly upon the different style in which
matters were managed in crossing the Plains, to that in which they might
have been, in case of necessity, in his own country.
On rejoining the train at the head of the cañon, and reporting the
affair to our Captain, he was pleased to say, I had proved the justice
of what he had said, when he appointed me to the command of the party.
The congratulations on my success, however, which I received from my
companions, were considerably warmer and more gratifying. For some
twenty-four hours, I actually found myself promoted by general
acclamation to the position of a hero. A little pluck and caution count
heavily on the Plains.
Bill, however, did not change his opinions. Although still as warmly as
ever attached to me, he said on the same evening, while sitting round
our camp-fire:
"I don't care, Mose! It would 'ave been more square to give 'em the
lead, face to face."
Late on the following day we reached Thousand Spring Valley, where the
head-waters of the Humboldt River take their rise. Here water and game
were good and abundant, and the train remained two days to rest the
stock, while I and some others scoured the adjacent country in quest of
fresh meat.
A lovelier spot than this valley, it would, perhaps, be impossible to
find in the whole continent, and I could, while I wandered through it,
scarcely avoid reflecting on the change which a hundred, or in all
probability no more than fifty, years might produce here. Then, it will
be thoroughly peopled. Possibly, a great inland city may have been
reared by the bustling and intelligent life of my country. The red man
will have been effaced by the onward march of civilization, or compelled
by sheer necessity to accept a settled life. A Sharp's rifle or a colt
will no longer be possessions of paramount necessity to him who travels
thitherward. The buffalo will have been cleared out from this section of
the States, and an antelope steak will be a rarity. At that period a man
of my, at this time, nomadic instincts will be compelled to search for
fresh ground in which to develop and enjoy them. The interior of Africa
or South America will be the only parts of the world in which he can
follow the life of a wanderer, unchecked and unhindered.