NEW GOLD DISCOVERIES
When the rumored discovery in the Summer of 1861 of extensive gold
placers on Salmon River was confirmed, the intelligence spread through
the Territories and Mississippi States like wildfire. Thousands of young
men, thrown out of employment by the war, and other thousands who
dreaded the evils which that great conflict would bring upon the nation,
and still others actuated by a thirst for gain, utilized their available
resources in providing means for an immediate migration to the land of
promise. Before midsummer they had started on the long and perilous
journey. How little did they know of its exposures! The deserts,
destitute of water and grass, the alkaline plains where food and drink
were alike affected by the poisonous dust, the roving bands of hostile
Indians, the treacherous quicksands of river fords, the danger and
difficulty of the mountain passes, the death of their companions, their
cattle, and their horses, breakage of their vehicles, angry and often
violent personal altercations,—all these fled in the light of the summer
sun, the vernal beauty of the plains, the delightfully pure atmosphere
which wooed them day by day farther away from the abode of civilization
and the protection of law. The most fortunate of this army of
adventurers suffered from some of these fruitful causes of disaster. So
certain were they in some form to occur, that a successful completion of
the journey was simply an escape from death. The story of the Indian
murders and cruelties alone, which befell hundreds of these hapless
emigrants, would fill volumes. Every mile of the several routes across
the continent was marked by the decaying carcasses of oxen and horses,
which had perished during the period of this hegira to the gold mines.
Three months with mules and four with oxen were necessary to make the
journey,—a journey now completed in five days from ocean to ocean by the
railroad.
Some of the earliest of these expeditions, after entering the unexplored
region which afterwards became Idaho and Montana, were arrested by
information that it would be impossible to cross, with teams, the
several mountain ranges between them and the mines. This discouragement
was followed up by intelligence that the placers were overrun by a crowd
of gold hunters from California and Oregon, and that large bands of
prospectors were spreading over the adjacent territory. Swift on the
heels of this came the rumor that new placers had been found at Deer
Lodge, on the east side of the mountains.
The idea was readily adopted that the country was filled with gold
placers,—that it was not necessary to pursue the track of actual
discovery, but that each man could discover his own mine. Thus
believing, the stream of emigration diverged,—some crossing the range to
Fort Lemhi on the Lower Salmon, and others pursuing a more southerly
course, with the hope of striking an old trail leading from Salt Lake to
Bitter Root and Deer Lodge valleys. Some of this latter party remained
on Grasshopper Creek near the large cañon, where they made promising
discoveries. The others went on to Deer Lodge, but being disappointed in
the placers there, rejoined their companions and gave to their placer
the name of Beaver Head Diggings,—that being the name given by Lewis and
Clark to the river into which the creek empties.
While these discoveries were in progress on the east side of the
mountains, a prospecting party which had been organized at Florence
under the leadership of a Californian by the name of Grimes, discovered
the mines on the Boise River. They were one hundred and fifty miles
south of Florence. Grimes and his party sunk their first shaft fifteen
miles northwest of the site of Idaho City. While preparing to extend
their explorations, they unfortunately fell into an Indian ambuscade and
their leader was slain.
Intelligence of the Beaver Head and Boise discoveries unsettled all
local projects for building up the towns of Florence, Elk City, and Oro
Fino. They were immediately deserted by all who could leave without
sacrifice. West Bannack, at Boise, and East Bannack, at Beaver Head,
sprung into existence as if by enchantment.
Ridgely had now so far recovered from his wound as to be able to travel.
Accompanied by him and Charley Reeves, Henry Plummer left the vicinity
of Florence and went to Elk City. There he met with several of his old
California acquaintances who were familiar with his early history.
Fearful of remaining lest they should deliver him up to the authorities
and cause him to be returned to California, or that a Vigilance
Committee would visit him with heavier punishment, he suddenly departed,
and ten days later made his appearance at Deer Lodge. He found the camp
full of needy adventurers, the mines unpromising, and the chances few
for replenishing his fortune by either gambling or robbery. After
spending a few days of constantly increasing discouragement he started
in company with Jack Cleveland for Fort Benton, intending to go down the
Missouri by the first boat. Fortunate would it have been had he carried
this design into execution. If it would not have saved him from a
felon’s death, it would have preserved the lives of those who afterwards
became his victims.
[Illustration:
A PACK TRAIN: CINCHING
]
Sixty miles from Benton, their horses jaded with travel, the two men
stopped at the Government farm on Sun River for a few days’ rest. In
this secluded valley they were out of the way of pursuers. Carpeted with
bunch grass, it afforded grazing for their half-starved horses, and in
Mr. Vail, the man in charge of the farm, they found a very hospitable
host. Divided centrally by the large and peaceful river, the valley
stretched away on either side to numberless plateaus, remarkable for the
uniform height and tabular recession with which they rose to the summits
of the lofty foothills, which in their turn swelled gradually into a
circumference of heaven-kissing mountains. Nothing but a few forests
were wanting to make the scene one of unparalleled grandeur. These were
measurably supplied by the parks of cottonwood which stretched along
either bank of the river, affording shelter for the herds of elk,
antelope, and deer that roamed unharmed over the boundless solitude.
Here, sheltered by the arms of kind relatives, Henry Plummer first saw
the only being which inspired his bosom with virtuous love. A young,
innocent, and beautiful girl, artless and loving as a child, won by his
attention and gentlemanly deportment, and the tale, seductive as that
poured by the serpent into the ear of Eve, which he told of his love,
against the advice of her sister and friends, crowned his happiness with
her heart and hand. No stories of his past career, no terrible picture
of the future, no tears and petitions, could stay the sacrifice. She
felt the sentiment so beautifully expressed by Moore,
“I know not, I ask not, if guilt’s in that heart,
I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art,”—
and under its influence she linked her fortunes with those of the
robber, murderer, and outlaw, in the holiest of human ties.
A quarrel, of which this young lady was the innocent cause, took place
between Plummer and Cleveland before the marriage of the former. Their
old friendship was never reëstablished. Often during their residence at
Sun River an exchange of bitter epithets only relieved their pent-up
wrath. Afraid of each other, neither would leave the farm alone.
Accordingly they went to Bannack in company, early in the Winter of
1862–63. There we will leave them while we return to Florence to inquire
after the fortunes of Cherokee Bob, whom we left a few chapters ago
“settled in business.”