by Providence in getting everything over as well as we did, losing only
two mules, which were carried off their feet by the current and
instantly drowned.
_June 30_ (Wednesday). We went as far as the Medicine Bow Butte, a
distance of sixteen miles. Our course lay over the lower bluffs of the
Medicine Bow Mountains, ascending and descending the many steep hills.
The surface was hard and gravelly, and covered with wild sage or
artemisia.
About nine miles out we arrived at the "Devils Hole," a deep, rocky
ravine, between the mountains, the almost precipitous sides of which
are composed of loose, crumbling rocks. The descent was very steep and
rough, requiring a great deal of labor to make it passable for the
wagons. We worked some time at the stream here to enable the train to
pass, and then proceeded. But we were soon brought to a standstill
before another branch of Medicine Bow Creek, divided into several
streams, and with the intervening ground swampy and covered with a
thick undergrowth of sweetbrier; cottonwood, pine, and white poplar
trees grow very densely here. When we reached the other side a rapid
stream presented itself, which we soon bridged, however, with the
trunks of trees.
We reached our camp ground quite late and very much fatigued and then
prepared for muster, which took place at five o'clock. The Company was
inspected by Colonel Andrews and the Quartermaster and Chief of
Commissary. A large buck was killed to-day, and, tired as we were, we
entered into the duties of the culinary department with considerable
alacrity.
_July 1_ (Thursday). We went but three miles to Elk Creek, moving in
order to secure a good camp ground. It is proposed to stay here for a
few days, in order to recuperate the mules and get them shod, to cut
timber for building bridges, and to burn a pit of charcoal--all
preparatory to leaving the command, to commence our duties as road
engineers. We are to go in advance, with a working party of Infantry
accompanying us, provisioned for twenty-eight days. Parties are
detailed to-day to cut and bring in timber, which is obtained about a
mile and a half up the mountain, where timber grows in abundance: pine,
juniper, and tamarack.
_July 2_ (Friday). The timber party is still at work to-day,
notwithstanding that it is cloudy and rainy. Our pontons were taken out
and overhauled, and two or three of them were condemned. We received
six more wagons from the Quartermaster, to carry timber. Clothing was
issued to all who were in need of it.
This evening our hunters, who were after game, returned with a young
antelope and some long-eared hares--we had, consequently, quite an
excellent stew for supper.
_July 3_ (Saturday). We were off betimes upon our new road, and marched
as far as Pass Creek, thirteen miles. At the very outset we had three
wagons obstinately stuck in mud holes, requiring two hours, at least,
to get in motion again. We cut brush and boughs, to make a footing for
the mules, and tied ropes to the wheels, and ourselves joined in the
pulling. In this way we dragged out two of the wagons, but the other
had to be entirely unloaded, the contents being carried about twenty
yards, through mud knee-deep.
Our course ran through a deep ravine all the way, and we crossed four
creeks, one of them a very difficult one. The banks were about five
feet above the water, and densely covered by thorny bushes. The creek
was too wide to jump, so we were compelled, _nolens volens_, to scratch
our way down through the briers and then wade to the opposite side,
where the scratching ensued again in climbing out. This nauseous
smelling shrub, the sage, grows in great quantities. It makes our
marching very disagreeable, being so stiff, gnarled and thorny, growing
sometimes to the height of five feet and the largest trunks measuring
from eighteen to twenty-two inches in circumference. Split and twisted,
with a strong appearance of dead, dry wood, the bark resembles that of
the cedar, being dry and shelly.
The day was exceedingly sultry and oppressive; the atmosphere was
perfectly calm, not a leaf trembling, and the air seemed heated like
that of a furnace, causing an unpleasant feeling of lassitude and a
difficulty in respiration. The heat of the day was the more strange
from the fact that ice was found this morning three-sixteenths of an
inch in thickness.
_July 4_ (Sunday). We made one of the most fatiguing marches of the
entire trip, and employed our minds in contrasting our celebration of
the American Independence of to-day with that of last year. In no very
pleasant mood, we made a march of fourteen and a half miles, and
encamped on the North Fork of the Platte River. When we arrived at the
river we found all the bluffs of sandstone, of curious shapes and
colors, looking like stupendous churches or other buildings in various
styles of architecture, surmounted by lofty minarets, turrets, spires
and domes. At night, the scene might easily be taken for a city
standing near us.
The road all through the march was about six inches deep with dust, and
not a green thing was visible to cheer the aching eyes, half blinded by
the glaring light which was reflected by the heated sand--not a blade
of grass, nothing but sage, from one end of the march to the other.
One of our men shot a sage hen near the close of the march, and when we
came into camp we set about to ascertain whether these fowls can be
made into good food; a stew was made, but the word _good_ would be, I
fear, a superfluity.
This afternoon First Sergeant Gerber took a party of men, the writer
being one, and went some few miles up the river, to get a flat-boat
which one of the guides informed us was hidden there. We found the
boat, and as it grew dark launched it, commencing a passage down the
rapid current of the Platte. We had not gone far, however, before the
vessel upset, and the whole cargo of rifles and men was subjected to a
cold bath. After some trouble in righting the boat the passage was
resumed, two or three rifles and several hats making up all the losses
that were sustained. But the members of the party also suffered
considerable loss of blood during the trip, drawn by mosquitoes--they
were so very troublesome that we had to wear handkerchiefs over our
faces and gloves on our hands, and these were but a partial protection
against their assaults.
_July 5_ (Monday). We commenced operations this morning by hauling our
boat out of the water and repairing and caulking it, and covering it
with canvas. We christened the vessel _The Sapper_, and I painted the
name on the side. We launched the boat, towed it to the crossing and
rigged up a rope ferry. All being ready we carried over two wagons,
loaded with timbers, which are to start to-morrow morning, together
with a party of men, to build a bridge over a creek.
_July 6_ (Tuesday). We began early to ferry over the train, and by noon
had most of the wagons across. The party was sent a few miles ahead to
build the bridge, and having completed that service returned to camp at
night. We, for our part, carried over the last load about 5 o'clock,
and then pitched camp.
_July 7_ (Wednesday). At reveille the Company was detailed into
parties; one party as pioneers, equipped with axes, and another as
pontoniers, to be left here to take down the ferry and then follow
after the Company.
The pontoniers crossed over in the ferry, and after taking the rigging
apart were obliged to recross the river on the pontons. We lashed them
together, and packing on our ropes and tools, we made the crossing,
using shovels as paddles. We left all the appliances of the ferry, that
we thought the Indians could not steal, behind at the river for the use
of the Infantry. We then packed the wagon, which remained behind for
us, and, shouldering our rifles, we trudged on in its rear. A short
march was expected, but we passed over two bridges that our men had
built--they were strong and substantial structures--and continued on
and on, without seeing anything of camp. Warm weather, dusty roads, and
disappointed hopes rendered us extremely tired. A shower arose about 2
p.m., but proved to be more bluster than rain, making the dust on the
road just moist enough to clog on our shoes. The breeze which attended
the shower, however, proved quite refreshing. We at last found the
train, after marching twenty and a half miles, going into camp at the
foot of the Park Mountains, where we joined the Company in time to
pitch our tents with the others. Part of the Company, together with the
Infantry detail, was engaged in erecting a bridge over the creek at
this place, which was completed before dark.
A corporal of our Company and one of Lieutenant Bryan's men were sent
back to the Infantry, this morning, to leave a couple of wagons and the
forge with them. They took three days' provisions, and were mounted on
mules.
_July 8_ (Thursday). We marched fourteen miles. A portion of the
Company went in advance, with Sergeant Wilson, to cut timber, and
another, under command of Sergeant Vanderslice, to cut timber and build
a bridge. The Company marched on, and, going through Bryans Pass,
entered the long-looked-for Bridgers Pass, where we entered on a hill
which is the dividing line of the waters, from which they flow eastward
and westward. Excellent trout and other fish are caught in these
mountain streams. There are no high, rocky mountains to be seen, and, I
must confess, we were somewhat disappointed in the Pass. There is no
vegetation except grass and artemisia, and the scenery is entirely too
commonplace to satisfy our expectations of a pass through the _Rocky_
Mountains.
Some Indians were seen scouting about, of the Arapahoe tribe. And
Sergeant Wilson's party saw two bears, but as their rifles were stacked
some distance off the bears managed to make their escape.
Our camp is pitched among the sage bushes, infested with a tick or bug
which we dread as much as centipedes or scorpions; a knife can not cut
them, and there is no way of killing them except by burning. The
nearest water is three-quarters of a mile from camp, and that scarcely
fit to drink, the name of the stream, "Muddy Creek," plainly indicating
the nature of the water.
This evening we unloaded all the wagons and took all the bodies from
the running gear, in order to be ready to start early in the morning
for timber.
One of the messengers who were sent back to the Infantry returned to
camp this evening, our corporal having been left behind at the Platte,
where one of the mules had been lost in crossing. They went back after
the corporal this evening.
_July 9_ (Friday). We did not move our camp to-day, as twenty men were
sent back twelve miles to cut timber. We spent nearly all the day in
the woods, cutting fifty-four logs, each about thirty feet long and
eighteen to twenty inches in diameter. We started back about 4 o'clock,
but many little delaying accidents made it quite late before we reached
camp. Some of our party fired the loads out of their rifles when we
were near the Company, which alarmed the camp so much that all the men
were turned out under arms, supposing that they were being attacked by
Indians.
The Company was this morning divided into three squads, each assigned
to a sergeant, to be kept by him during the campaign--each sergeant is
to take his party for whatever service or duty he is given to perform.
_July 10_ (Saturday). Leaving the tents standing, as the sick were to
remain here, we took the timber to where it was to be unloaded and
used. Frequent recourse was had to shovels and picks on the trip,
cutting down hills, filling up ravines, etc. We went about three miles,
unloaded the timber, helped to pitch some tents, and then, the wagons
having returned empty half an hour before, we of the new guard were
obliged to walk back to the old camp to mount guard. But arriving
there, we first put a new load on the wagons, then were given a
half-hour to clean our rifles before guard mount.
There are seventeen men on the sick report, nearly all of whom are
afflicted with mountain or sage fever. No doctor is with us, so we are
forced to content ourselves with what medical advice a lieutenant's
commission can furnish.
Sergeant Wilson's party is ahead, with the Infantry detail, laying out
and constructing a road.
The writer was given charge of the compass and the odometer, with
instructions to report daily to Lieutenant Duane.
_July 11_ (Sunday). Camp was moved about 10.30 a.m., and when we came
up with the other two parties they struck tents and joined us. We went
about two miles farther, and encamped on Muddy Creek. Our camp ground
is rough, stony, and full of tall sage bushes, which we had to cut away
in order to get room to pitch our tents. We are again besieged with
ticks, mosquitoes and snakes during the day, and entertained by the
howls of the wolves and coyotes at night.
An enormous rattlesnake was killed this afternoon--we cut up his
snakeship and fried him, and several of us made a hearty meal,
Lieutenant Alexander assisting. We found the meat quite sweet and
delicate, so that all snakes that come near us hereafter will be in
imminent danger of the frying pan.
The tobacco store was opened this evening, and we received our
allowance of the same.
_July 12_ (Monday). At reveille the Company was divided. Forty men and
two wagons were given to Sergeant Wilson. We found a great many places
along the selected route which required improvement--there were hills
to grade, stone walls to build, ravines to fill, and one bridge to
construct over Muddy Creek. We were so busily employed during the day
that we had no time to cook or eat, and when night came we were hungry
enough to appreciate the cracker and piece of raw bacon upon which we
made our supper.
_July 13_ (Tuesday). We arose early, our only reveille being the voice
of the Sergeant, calling: "All hands ahoy! Let us early birds be out
looking for the worm, for only the early bird catches him." We arose,
had breakfast, and sallied out to work, leaving our tents standing and
everything behind except haversacks and canteens, which were too
necessary to be slighted. We began the construction of a bridge, but
could not finish it on account of the timber not arriving. The Company
camp was moved to-day to within sight of the bridge.
We enjoy ourselves vastly while on these working parties,
notwithstanding hardships and privations. No roll calls, no guard
mounting, no policing--nothing but peace and quiet from the time we
quit work until we retire to sleep. We spend the evenings in joking,
singing, and smoking.
July 14 (Wednesday). We arose at 4, and packed our rifles and
accoutrements in the wagons, two men only in each of the four parties
keeping their guns, in case we should be able to start up some game. We
gained about eight miles on our journey to-day. Many deep gullies were
encountered, requiring some time to be put into condition for
travelling. A camp ground was selected among the Sand Peaks, outside of
Bridgers Pass, and on Muddy Creek. It was within an hour of sunset, but
as the Company train is to proceed some miles farther to-morrow, we
were obliged to go a mile ahead, where an immense gully, about eighty
feet wide, with sides about fifteen feet high, nearly perpendicular,
was to be filled and graded. We all set to with a will, and finished
this great bugbear of an undertaking within an hour. Sergeant Wilson
received four days' more rations from the Company. The guides joined us
this evening, as the country we are to pass over to-morrow is somewhat
difficult.
_July 15_ (Thursday). This morning, as a long march was to be made on
account of the scarcity of water, we were turned out at 1 a.m. Several
large fires were built and we sat about them to eat our breakfast,
after which, by their light, we struck tents and loaded the wagons.
About 2 o'clock we assembled about the fire and made the surrounding
mountains ring with the strains of the "Star Spangled Banner." There,
in the midst of the wilderness, where the human form is but rarely
seen, where the stillness of the night is almost painfully oppressive,
where no sound is heard to break the spell of silence save the solitary
howl of some disconsolate wolf, the shrill voice of the brooding owl,
or the mournful, plaintive cry of the cuckoo--there did our voices
swell out in harmony as we published to the hills our patriotic
principles. And when, the chorus returned for the last time, and every
voice was exerted to its utmost to do justice to the language, it
seemed as though those very hills had caught the inspiration. As our
voices ceased, and, for a moment, not a word was spoken, back from the
distant hills came the sound, as of many voices, bearing the burden--
"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."
Three cheers were given for the invisible songsters, who as heartily
responded.
Then we shouldered our tools and in single file followed the footsteps
of the guide's pony into the darkness which surrounded us. All along
the line jokes passed from man to man, laughter rang out in merry
peals, and occasionally a song burst forth. All was joy and mirth.
Our course lay principally over an extensive plain. In the distance
before us could be seen the irregular outline of the mountains toward
which we are making our way. After marching eighteen and a half miles
we came to our camp ground, and a most dismal one it is. No grass to be
seen--nothing but deep sand and sage bushes; no wood nor chips to be
found, and in their place only small twigs and sage bushes to burn; the
only water that from a spring which furnishes poor water and
insufficient quantities of that. The low ground about, which is all
moist, is encrusted with nitrate of soda, magnesia, and potash. A
severe storm of hail and rain occurred after we reached camp, and
between mud and inconvenience our patience was sorely tried. But I
believe, like "Mark Tapley," the worse the circumstances the jollier we
felt.
The Company train came up and joined us this evening, and our tents
were all pitched together. Our tools were turned in, as we are not to
go in advance as a working party any more.
_July 16_ (Friday). We went only six and a half miles to-day, owing to
so many places in the road requiring work. We encamped about a half
mile from Haystack Springs, situated in a deep, rocky ravine at the
base of the mountains, the name derived from three or four high rocks
in the vicinity which bear a strong resemblance, in color and shape, to
haystacks. The country over which we passed is rocky, rough, and
densely covered with wild sage, through which we struggled at the risk
of decorating the bushes with shreds of our clothing and staining them
with our blood, which trickled from numerous scratches inflicted by the
thorny branches. No living thing is found among these sage bushes
except sage hens, a spectral looking hare, ravens, ticks, and ants.
_July 17_ (Saturday). We marched fourteen and a half miles and encamped
at "Wolfs Spring," discovered by one of our Indian hunters, Wolf, and
named in honor to the discoverer. Our camp is on the top of a very high
hill, and the spring--the only place from which we can obtain water--is
situated at its base, the descent being long, steep, and very rough.
The water is pure, cold, and clear as crystal.
To-day a new disposition was made, a working party being detailed, and
the remainder of the Company carrying arms. At every place requiring
improvements the Company and train halted and waited until the working
party was finished.
A fine, large buffalo was shot, and the tool wagon was dispatched to
bring in the spoils. In the evening the game was divided.
Two expressmen, accompanied by Allen, our chief guide, left us this
afternoon for Fort Bridger, to execute some important business and to
bring back the mail.
_July 18_ (Sunday). In the morning a road was to be cut around the base
of the hill. The task was accomplished by noon, the excavation being
carried to a depth of seven feet on the upper side, through alternate
strata of magnesian limestone and sandstone. We then struck camp and
moved on, going only three miles, however, as water could not be
obtained within nine or ten miles beyond this place, and it was too
late to attempt to reach it. We camped at Banner Bluff, on Bitter
Creek.
The bluff is a grand and curious geological formation, about twelve
hundred feet in height, the side almost vertical and composed of
alternate horizontal layers of protozoic and red sandstone, reminding
one of the stripes of the American flag.
_July 19_ (Monday). We marched only ten and a half miles, but did not
reach our new camp ground, which is again on Bitter Creek, until quite
late, some obstacle or other presenting itself every few hundred yards
to arrest our progress. The country was of the worst possible
description, barren and sandy; the surface of the ground was baked to a
hard crust, and broken by a network of deep fissures, some of them two
or three inches across, resembling the gaps of a miniature earthquake.
No vegetation, except a stunted growth of artemisia.
_July 20_ (Tuesday). We again encamped on Bitter Creek, after a march
of fifteen miles. There is no improvement in the aspect of the country,
although there was not so much labor, required in the construction of
the road, the country being for the most part level or rolling. A great
deal of poor coal is scattered over the ground, which is covered,
throughout the latter six or eight miles of our march with a complete
bed of these fragments, mixed with basaltic trap and a dark
conglomerate containing an immense number of small shells.
To-day we were compelled to mourn the loss of one of our companions,
who, afflicted with apoplexy, was left, a few days ago, with the
Regiment. He died at 8 p.m. and was buried in his uniform, the Sixth
Regiment escorting the body to its wild and lonely resting place, with
the customary military honors. I, myself, carved the board erected at
his head:
IN MEMORY OF WM. G. SLAYTER
Of Co. "A," U.S. Engineers,
Died July 19, 1858, Aged 27 years.
His was a frank and genial nature, and his many good qualities and
cheerful disposition had established him as a universal favorite among
his comrades. His death threw a gloom over our usually cheerful and
buoyant spirits. This evening the camp was still. The customary song
was not heard--no hearty peals of laughter rang out to disturb the
solemn silence.
_July 21_ (Wednesday). We made but a short march to-day, the country
over which we passed being unfavorable for the construction of the
road. We encountered many deep gullies, which detained us a
considerable time. Nine miles' marching brought us to another camp on
Bitter Creek. About three miles from yesterday's camp we discovered the
road that Captain Marcy made a few weeks ago. It was on the opposite
side of the creek, however, and we could not form a junction with it,
owing to the difficulty of crossing the creek.
_July 22_ (Thursday). This day brought us a very tiresome and fatiguing
march to Sulphur Springs, nineteen and two-thirds miles. The sun shot
down its melting rays with overpowering intensity, and, to add to our
misery, no water was found that was fit to drink. The bed of the creek
was dry, a misfortune that we did not expect, as the stream where we
crossed it was quite deep. True, two puddles of stagnant water did
present themselves to our longing eyes, but how grievous was our
disappointment when, upon tasting, the water proved to be brackish and
sulphurous. Yet, such was the thirst of our men, that some took a
hearty drink of it, although the majority reluctantly resumed the
march, looking eagerly in the distance as we reached the summit of each
successive hill, to see if we could descry the sparkling flash of
water. At the conclusion of our march several pools were discovered,
near which we camped; but we found that these springs were also
sulphurous. As we did not reach camp until dark our dinner was not
ready until midnight, when all who preferred food to sleep partook of
this most excellent cheer, by the light of a greasewood fire. Our
teamsters, accompanied by the guard, were obliged to march a mile,
after reaching camp, in order to get grass for the animals.