More Navajos Arrive with Old Jacob--The Lost Pack-train and a
Famished Guide--From Boat to Broncho--On to Kanab--Winter
Arrives--Wolf Neighbours too Intimate--Preparing for Geodetic
Work--Over the Kaibab to Eight-mile Spring--A Frontier
Town--Camp below Kanab--A Mormon Christmas Dance.
At the mouth of the Paria we established ourselves for a stay of several
days. Not only did we have the pack-train to wait for, but there were
maps to finish, boats to cache, and all manner of things to attend to
before we could leave for the winter. Steward recovered so that he could
slowly walk around, but to balance this Jones developed inflammatory
rheumatism in both knees, but especially in the one which had been
injured by the fall at the Junction. Though he was perfectly cheerful
about it, he suffered excruciating pain, and was unable to move from the
bed of willows which we made for him. The medicine chest was drawn on
again, and we hoped that the attack would not last long. Andy remained
wan and thin, but he insisted on sticking to his work. So liberally had
we used our rations that we were nearing the end, and we began to look
hopefully in the direction from which we expected the pack-train to
arrive. Four days passed and still there was no sign of it. We had to
put ourselves on half-rations once more, and Prof. declared that if the
train did not soon arrive either he or I, being the only entirely well
members of the party, would have to walk out to Kanab and obtain relief.
None of us knew anything about the trail. On the 26th Prof. and I
climbed the cliffs back of camp to a height of two thousand feet, and
had a remarkable view similar to that from Echo Peaks. On Saturday,
October 28th, in the morning we were surprised to hear from the opposite
or south side of the river an Indian yell, and looking across we
perceived what appeared to be three natives, with horses, standing on
the edge of the canyon wall, here very low. We prepared one of the boats
to cross and find out what was wanted, when a fourth figure joined the
group, and in good English came the words, "G-o-o-d m-o-r-n-i-n-g," long
drawn out. On landing we were met by a slow-moving, very quiet
individual, who said he was Jacob Hamblin. His voice was so low, his
manner so simple, his clothing so usual, that I could hardly believe
that this was Utah's famous Indian-fighter and manager. With him were
three other white men, Isaac Haight, George Adair, Joe Mangum, and nine
Navajos, all on their way to the Mormon settlements. They desired to be
put across the river, and we willingly offered the services of ourselves
and our boats. Some of the Navajos had never before seen so large a
stream, and were free to express their surprise. We took on board Jacob
and one or two others, and after landing them made several trips with
both boats to ferry the rest over, including all their saddles and
baggage. The Navajos were rather afraid of the boats, which to them
probably looked small and wobbly, but they all got on board with much
hilarity, except one who preferred to swim. He struck boldly out with a
sort of dog-paddle stroke. Having no confidence in his swimming ability,
we followed closely. The water was cold; the distance greater than the
Navajo had imagined. Before he was one third of the way over he
consented to be pulled into our boat and finish the passage that way.
The horses were towed over, swimming behind the boats, a rope being held
by a man sitting in the stern. There was a rapid not far below, and we
feared if driven in to swim loose they might be drawn into it. One horse
refused to swim or even to try, and made repeated efforts to plunge his
head under, giving us a lot of trouble, but by holding his head close to
the boat we towed him across in spite of his opposition. Without the
boat he would surely have gone down the river. When everybody and
everything were safely across the hour was so late that Jacob concluded
to camp with us for the night.[24]
The Navajos were found to be a very jolly set of fellows, ready to take
or give any amount of chaff, and perfectly honest. They were taking
blankets of their manufacture to trade for horses and sheep. Their
spirits ran high, they sang their wild songs for us, and we had the
liveliest evening we had seen in many a month. Finally we joined in a
circle with them, dancing and singing around the smouldering fire, while
the chief Konéco, a noble-looking fellow, sitting at one side, with a
patriarchal expression, monotonously drummed an accompaniment with a
willow root on the bottom of one of the camp-kettles. When any of us
would stumble on a stick they were all convulsed with laughter. The
blankets they had were beautiful, and Jacob possessed one valued at $40,
which had taken seventy days to make. After the Navajos had gone to rest
we listened to some Mormon songs by Jacob's party. They left us the next
morning, Sunday, October 29th, Prof. obtaining from Jacob some red
Mexican beans to eke out our supplies; also a description of the trail.
I traded a cap I happened to have to one of the Navajos for his feather
plume, and a pair of shoes to one of the white men for some Mishongnuvi
moccasins. Monday we took the _Dean_ across the river, and some distance
down we hauled her by means of ropes up high above the water under a
large rock, where we concealed her well. Then we made five caches near
camp of goods not needed till next year, covering our traces by fires
and other devices. Jones was so much improved that he managed to hobble
about on a pair of crutches I had made for him out of strong willow
sticks, and we felt much encouraged as to his ability to stand riding
when the time came to start for Kanab.
On Tuesday we built a shelter back of camp for the _Nell_ and housed
her there. The next day was the first of November and we thought surely
the pack-train would come, but the sun went down behind the cliffs and
no one arrived. Prof. could not understand what the trouble was, but he
went on with his observations. The next morning, as we were about to eat
our bean breakfast beside the fire, we were astonished by the extremely
cautious appearance through the willows, without a word of announcement,
of a single, ragged, woebegone, silent old man on as skinny and
tottering a pony as ever I saw. The old man was apparently much
surprised to find himself here, and with the exclamation, "My God! I
have found you!" he dropped to the ground. When at last he spoke he said
his name was Mangum of Kanab, and that he had been employed to guide our
pack-train, of which Riley, one of the prospectors we had met at El
Vado, was leader. "Well, where is the train?" we asked, for if he were
all that remained of it we wanted to know it soon. "Several miles back
on the trail," he said. Not having eaten a mouthful since the morning
before it was no wonder he was weak and silent. We gave him the best
breakfast we could command from our meagre stock and then like a spectre
he vanished on his scrawny steed up the Paria Canyon. All the day long
we watched and waited for his triumphal return with the longed-for
supplies at his back, but the sun departed without his approach and the
twilight died into that mystery which leaves the world formless against
the night. And still we had faith in the stranger's story. Early the
next morning Prof., Clem, and I started on his track thinking we would
soon meet the train. It led us up the valley of the Paria, between the
great cliffs about three miles, and then we had another surprise, for it
swung sharply to the right and climbed a steep sandy slope towards the
only apparent place where the two-thousand-foot cliffs could possibly be
scaled with horses. We saw that he had followed a very old Indian trail.
When we had mounted to the base of the vertical rocks we travelled
zig-zagging back and forth across the face of the precipice till
presently the trail passed through a notch out upon the plateau. From an
eminence we now scanned the whole visible area without discovering
anything that apparently had not been there for several thousand years.
Save the coming and going tracks of our strange visitor there was
nothing to show that any living animal had trod this place in centuries.
We could see to where Prof. and I previously climbed to this same
plateau, and to-day was like yesterday and yesterday like the year
before last. Time and the years were as little grains of drifting sand.
Leaving Clem as a sentinel on our observation point Prof. followed the
out track and told me to follow the in till three o'clock. It was now
high noon. I walked on and on through an arid, wonderful maze of sand,
rocks, and cacti, feeling that the old horseman was no more than a
phantom, when in half an hour I almost fell upon our lost pack-train
meandering slowly and silently through a depression. I fired our signal
shots and Prof. soon joined us. The situation was precarious. The
animals were nearly dead from thirst, one had been abandoned, and Riley
was in a state of pent-up rage that was dangerous for the spectre guide,
who had nearly been the destruction of the whole outfit, for he did not
know the trail and was himself lost. Of course he blamed Riley--it was
his only defence. Riley broke loose in a string of fiery oaths,
declaring he would shoot "the old fool," then and there. But receiving
no encouragement from Prof. or me he didn't. There was a third member of
the party, Joe Hamblin, a son of Jacob, a very sturdy young fellow. He
said afterwards that he thought often that Riley would "sure let
daylight through the old man." Our next care was to successfully
manoeuvre the pack-animals down the difficult trail across the face of
the cliff, which had not seen a horse for many a year and probably never
had been traversed by animals with packs on their backs. We had to watch
that they did not crowd each other off, but with all our exertions one
fell and rolled down a few feet. He was not injured and we continued the
descent, finally reaching the bottom without so much as a scratch of any
consequence. There, at the Paria, the horses enjoyed the first full
drink for several days and we followed it down to camp. Riley had
started from Kanab October 23d and had been twelve days making a journey
that required at most only four or five by the regular trail. Mangum had
not known the way, had led toward El Vado, and his finding the Indian
trail to the mouth of the Paria was an accident.
Provisions were now plenty again, and by the light of a big fire we
overhauled the mail, finding letters, newspapers and magazines enough to
satisfy any party. Word was received from the Major to move to a place
called House Rock Spring, and Prof. said we would leave Camp 86 on
November 5th, which gave us a day intervening in which to pack up. About
noon of this packing day we were not surprised when two horsemen, Haight
and Riggs, galloped into camp at full speed leading a lightly laden
pack-mule. They had come through in two and one half days, at top speed,
by direction of Jacob, who on reaching Kanab with the Navajos learned
that our pack-train had left long before, and he had seen nothing of
it. On the pack-mule were fifty pounds of flour and several rolls of
butter; the first time we had seen any of this latter article since the
final breakfast at Field's on May 22d. They were greatly relieved to
know that the train was found and that all was well. They brought news
of the burning of Chicago about a month before. In the evening Isaac
Haight favoured us with some Mormon songs and recited examples of the
marvellous curative effects of the Mormon "laying on of hands." Heavy
clouds had settled along the face of the cliffs and the air grew wintry.
We felt the chill keenly, as we were not clad for cold weather. In the
morning snow began to drop gently out of the leaden sky and continued
all day, preventing any one from starting. Soon the cliffs and Echo
Peaks were white and we knew that now autumn was gone. Toward evening
the sun flared across the rocky landscape, turning everything to gold,
and we believed the next day would be fair. We were not disappointed.
Monday the 6th of November came sharp and cold. Haight, Riggs, Mangum,
and Joe Hamblin left early and we got under way as soon as we could.
With two very sick men and a new method of travel it was not easy. We
had to learn the art of packing on mules and horses from Riley, who was
an expert in this line and who could "sling the diamond hitch" with
great skill. He was just as handy with a lasso and seldom missed if he
wished to catch an animal, but Prof. did not approve of the lasso
method, for it makes stock wild and unmanageable. His way was the quiet
one and he was right, for we soon had the entire herd so that there was
no rumpus at starting-time. With a free use of the lasso preparations to
start partake of the activity of a tornado.
Steward by this time was able to walk slowly. Andy was well enough to
travel on his feet, but Jones could not move at all without crutches. We
did not have extra horses for all to ride, so Steward and Andy changed
off, while the rest of us had to walk. Jones we lifted as gently as
possible, though it was pain even to be touched in his condition, upon
Riley's special horse called Doc, a well-trained, docile animal, who
walked off with him. It was after noon before the start was
accomplished, and meanwhile I went back on the incoming trail of the
lost pack-train to the foot of the steep precipice for Riley's canteen,
which had been forgotten there, and when I returned all were gone but
Steward, Clem, and Beaman, who had remained behind to round up a young
steer which had been driven in with the train for us to convert into
beef at a convenient opportunity. As the advance party travelled very
slowly we soon caught them, the steer being gentle as a kitten. The
trail followed south along the foot of the cliffs which emerged from
Paria Canyon, and to which the Major had given the name of Vermilion on
account of their rich red colour. We wound in and out of deep alcoves,
around the heads of impassable lateral canyons running to the Colorado,
and past enormous rocks balanced in every conceivable position on
extremely slender pedestals. After about eight miles we arrived at a
diminutive spring, which gave enough water for Andy to make bread and
coffee with, but none for the stock. There we camped. A few armfuls of
scraggy sage-brush furnished wood for a fire, but it was not enough to
make our invalids comfortable, and the night was cold and raw. We did
all we could for them and they did not grumble.
In the morning a pair of bronchos--that is, recently broken wild
horses--made the camp lively for a time, but they were subdued and the
caravan again got under way. Our next camp was to be Jacob's Pools, so
called from the fact that Jacob was the first white man to camp there.
We had gone only a mile or so when we crossed in a small canyon a little
stream already enjoying two names, Clear and Spring (now called Badger)
Creek, and a little farther on another called Soap Creek, still holding
that name.[25] When first travellers enter a country they naturally
bestow names on important objects, and two or three parties of white men
who had passed this way had named these two creeks. After this we had no
more water, and we pushed slowly ahead, looking for the Pools. Snow
began to fall again in widely scattered, reluctant flakes, but melted on
touching the ground. Late in the afternoon the trail turned the corner
of the cliffs, which here broke to the west, and we saw a wide, desolate
open plain stretching away to the foot of a distant table-land, which we
knew to be the Kaibab Plateau or Buckskin Mountain. None of the party
had been over the trail before, but it was easy to follow, especially
for a man of Riley's experience. It was an old Navajo trail, and was
here fairly well worn. The sun went down as we plodded on, the light
faded from the west, and still we saw no Jacob's Pools. The air was
biting, and with our thin, worn garments we felt it keenly and wished
for a fire. At last just as the darkness began to thicken a patch of
reeds on the right between some low hills was discovered, where it
seemed there might be water, and we could not well go farther. The
ground was moist, and by digging a hole we secured red, muddy liquid
enough for Andy to make a little bread and a cup apiece of very poor
coffee. The men and animals came straggling in out of the darkness. We
gathered a lot of sage-brush and made a fire, and as soon as Jones came
we lifted him off and put him as near the warmth as possible, for he was
chilled through. There was no water for the stock, but the grass was wet
and they did not suffer. Everything was damp and uncomfortable, and the
fire was too small to dry anything out, so all turned in to the limited
blankets and passed a cold, half-sleepless, uncomfortable night.
Morning was a relief, though the thermometer stood at 11 F. There was
water enough in the holes for breakfast, and as soon as this meal was
over the pack-train was on the move towards Jacob's Pools, which we
found not two miles farther on. There were two of them, each seven or
eight feet long, supplied by fine clear water oozing out of a hill-side.
The lower one we turned over to the animals, reserving the upper for
ourselves. We approached the plateau all day, and late in the afternoon
we were within three or four miles of it, when the right-hand cliffs
turned sharply to the north in a line parallel with the plateau, forming
a long narrow valley. Cedars and piñons now grew about us, so that we
were assured of a good fire. About sunset we passed two large boulders
which had fallen together, forming a rude shelter, under which Riggs or
some one else had slept, and then had jocosely printed above with
charcoal the words "Rock House Hotel." Afterward this had served as
identification, and Jacob and the others had spoken of "House Rock"
Spring and House Rock Valley. We called it the same, and finally it went
on the maps and is now permanent. A few yards beyond the House Rock the
trail led into a gulch, at the head of which was a good spring. Plenty
of cedars and piñons grew about, and we soon had a fire that compensated
for the meagre ones of the preceding nights. The sick men became warm
and dry, and we all felt much better. The whole outfit halted two days,
and on the second the poor little steer, gazing sadly at us, was shot
and cut up. In an hour the quarters were swinging from a tree and some
of the beef was in the pan. Necessity is a sauce that makes every grist
palatable. We were hungry, and nothing could have tasted better than
that fresh beefsteak. The entrails and refuse were left on the ground in
the neighbouring gulley where we had killed the steer, and next morning
the place was about cleaned up by the lurking wolves.
Prof. decided to go on across the Kaibab to Kanab with the two very sick
men, and leave Cap., Clem, Andy, and me here at House Rock Spring until
the plan for the winter's campaign had been better formulated. Steward
concluded that his condition was too precarious to risk further
exposure, and said he would now leave the expedition permanently, which
we learned with deep regret, but it was plainly imperative. Jones
thought that a week or two of warmth and rest, accompanied by a change
of diet, would make him whole again and enable him to stay till the end
of our special task. On Saturday, November 11th, the party started, with
the invalids riding the gentlest and easiest horses, though Steward
found it less painful at times to walk. I accompanied them to the summit
of the Kaibab to bring back one of the horses we called Thunderbolt, on
which Jones was to be carried to the top and there change to Doc. After
I left them I halted many times to look out into the wonderful land to
the west and north. When I got back to the spring, our Camp 3 of the
land operations, we immediately set up a stout 6 by 8 tent that was in
the outfit brought from Kanab, and it made a very snug sleeping-place
for the four of us. Around the fire we rolled big stones for seats, and
soon had the gulch in a homelike condition. There was an abundance of
dead, fat piñon, which burned like a candle, and we could easily extend
our reading into the evenings.
From all around us there arose the frequent bay and bark of the wolves.
They were of different kinds, numerous and rather bold. At night they
came in and cleared up what was left of the entrails of the steer, also
securing a fine, large piece of beef which Cap. had hung in a tree, but
not high enough to escape their efforts. We took turns bringing the four
horses left with us to water, and in that way kept ourselves informed
about them. During these trips, especially in the late afternoon, the
wolves were apt to trot along near by, and on one occasion Clem was
obliged to drive one out of the trail with stones, not having his rifle.
One morning, as I was riding along not far from camp, a huge whitish
fellow followed behind like a dog about twenty yards back, licking his
chaps. At first I thought he might be the dog of some Indian camped
near, but remembering that there were none in the valley, and also that
an Indian dog, or any strange dog, would have run from me, I saw that he
was a hungry wolf unused to man. I had no rifle with me, but I took a
walk over the same ground next morning with my Winchester, hoping to see
my acquaintance again, but he discreetly kept out of sight. We had
little now to occupy us except to examine the locality, chop wood for
our fire, and read over and over the newspapers and magazines. The
nights were very cold, the spring always freezing over, but the days
were delightful. The beef had to be jerked to preserve it. We cut it up
into thin long strips, which we strung through the ends on long withes,
these in turn being hung on a framework that left the strips swinging
within two or three feet of a slow fire. One hour's neglect of this
tempting array would have seen it vanish to the four winds, so we kept a
constant watch day and night, taking turns through the dark hours.
Every article which had grease or leather about it had to be carefully
put away to prevent its disappearance. Riley had lost his spurs on the
way out from this cause, the leather on them making sweet morsels for
the watchers.
Cap. concluded to profit by this appetite, and in an adjoining gulch he
built a trap between two rocks, in which he set his Remington
six-shooter, so that a wolf picking up a scrap of beef would pull the
trigger by a string and receive the ball in his head. That night during
my watch over the beef I roasted a piece on a stick for a lunch, and as
the savory odour drifted off on the crisp winter air howl after howl of
ravenous desire rang out from many directions, followed by the bang of
the revolver in the trap. Cap. went over, but found no game, though
later he often came back with a fine large specimen, bearing a perfect
coat of fur, which Cap. always removed by the firelight at once. About
every night except Sunday, when Cap. refused to set the trap--for he
never did any work on that day that was not absolutely necessary--there
was a fatal shot, and he accumulated a lot of excellent large skins,
which he tacked on trees to preserve them. He thought he had put them up
securely high, but one morning every skin had disappeared. The wolf
relatives had carried them away to the last shred.
[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.
From Havasupai Point, South Rim, Showing Inner Gorge.
From a sketch in colour by F. S. Dellenbaugh, 1907.]
The Kaibab was too far away for us to go there to hunt deer, and there
were none around the spring, though one night at supper-time, the
western sky being a broad sweep of deep orange, we saw a large wild
animal of some sort on the crest of the hill silhouetted against the
colour. I started for it with my rifle, but of course it did not wait;
no animal ever does if he can help it, unless he is carnivorous and
famished. The weather remained generally fair, though one day we had a
wild gale that nearly relieved us of the tent in the midst of thick
flurries of snow. We often climbed among the cliffs, and everywhere we
found picture-writings, poles laid up, stepping-stones, fragments of
pottery, arrowheads, and other evidences of former occupation. The poles
and stones may have been placed by the Pai Utes as well as by the old
Shinumos, who once were numerous over all this country. Cap. was by no
means well. An extreme nervousness connected with the old gunshot wound
developed, and he said he felt sure he could not continue the work in
the field during the winter, much less go through the Grand Canyon with
us the next year. Clem also felt under the weather, and besides was
growing homesick. He confided to me one day that he also had concluded
not to remain with us. As there was little the matter with him I
undertook to argue him out of his determination not to go through the
Grand Canyon, pointing out the disappointment he would feel when we had
accomplished the passage and he realised that he might as well have come
along. This produced some impression, but I was uncertain as to its
lasting result.
By November 17th we began with confidence to look for some one to come
over the mountains from Kanab, and just after sunset we heard Riley's
long shrill "ee--ii--oooooooo," which he could deliver upon the air in
such a fashion that it carried for miles. Presently Prof. and he rode
into our camp with fresh supplies and a great bundle of mail that
included papers giving the details of the burning of Chicago. Prof. with
Cap. then reconnoitred the neighbourhood, and on the 21st he returned to
Kanab, leaving us as before, except that Riley remained two days longer.
The Major had not yet arrived at Kanab from Salt Lake and our winter
work could not begin till he came. The days rolled by with occasional
rain and snow and we began to grow impatient with our inaction,
especially when November passed away. The second day of December was
fading when we distinguished in the distance the familiar Riley yell,
and in a little while he came into view with welcome news. We were to
move at once to a spring eight miles from Kanab. He also brought some
apples, native raisins and a large canteen full of fresh wine from
"Dixie" as the country along the Virgin was called. These luxuries
together with a number of letters from home made that night one of the
most cheerful we had known for a long time. Monday morning, December 4th
we left House Rock Spring behind with our pack-train, followed the trail
across the open valley, climbed two thousand feet to the top of the
Kaibab, and were soon traversing the forest on its broad summit. Riley
having been over the trail now several times we went ahead steadily, and
about sunset arrived at the farther side of a narrow longitudinal
depression of the top which Cap. immediately put down in his notes as
Summit Valley, a name that holds to-day. There we threw off our packs
and made camp for the night. Though there was no water the ground was
covered by a thin layer of snow, that made the long bunch grass
palatable to the horses and for ourselves we had sufficient water in two
small kegs and several canteens. A bright fire blazed cheerfully, the
dense cedars broke the wind, and everybody felt that it was a fine camp.
The others spent the evening playing euchre by firelight, but I
preferred to read till bedtime.
The next morning, after crossing some rough gulches, we came to the
western edge of the great plateau, and emerging from the forest of pine
and cedar we saw again the magnificent, kaleidoscopic, cliff country
lying to the north. First about twenty miles away was a line of low
chocolate-coloured cliffs, then a few miles back of this the splendid
line of the Vermilion Cliffs, the same which began at the mouth of Glen
Canyon and which we had skirted to House Rock Spring. From there the
line continued northward till it passed around the north end of the
Kaibab, when it struck southwesterly far to our left, where it turned
back to the north again, forming one of the longest and finest cliff
ranges anywhere to be seen. Above them and some miles still farther
back, rising higher, was a line of greyish cliffs following the trend of
the Vermilion, and still above these was the broken meandering face of
the Pink Cliffs, frosted with snow, whose crest marks the southeastern
limit of Fremont's "Great Basin," the end of the High Plateaus, and tops
the country at an altitude of some 11,000 feet above sea-level. A more
extraordinary, bewildering landscape, both as to form and colour, could
hardly be found in all the world. Winding our way down to the barren
valley, in itself more a high plateau than a valley, we travelled the
rest of the day in the direction of the great cliffs. The sun was just
gone when we reached the first low line, and passing through a gap
turned into a side gulch thickly studded with cedars, where we saw
before us two white-covered waggons, two or three camp-fires blazing,
and friends. We heard a hearty voice cry, "Tirtaan Aigles dis wai!" and
we sprang from our horses to grasp Jack's welcoming hand and greet all
the others, some of whom were new acquaintances. The fragrance of coffee
and frying bacon filled the sharp air, while from the summits of the
surrounding cliffs the hungry chorus of yelping wolves sent up their
wail of disappointment.
In an alcove a large tent had been put up, which the Major's family was
occupying, for Mrs. Powell and her baby daughter had come from Salt Lake
with him, arriving a few days before. The daughter was but three months
old and was happy in a big clothes-basket for a cradle. Mrs. Thompson,
Prof.'s wife, and sister of the Major, had also come from Salt Lake and
another large tent sheltered them, while still another of equal size,
not yet erected, was designed for the men. It was a specially
interesting camp to us who had come over from House Rock for it was
novel to see so many people around. The Major himself was absent at
Kanab. Before the camp was asleep the hour was late, and so soundly did
every one rest that the sneaking wolves without the least molestation
carried off two large sacks of the jerked beef from near our heads,
where we had put it against a huge rock thinking they would not come so
close; but as they had pulled a ham the night before from under the head
of Captain Dodds where he had placed it for safety, we ought to have
been more sensible. Two or three nights later, as I was sleeping in a
special bed one of the men then absent had made by a big rock some yards
from the main camp, I was awakened by a wolf crunching bones by the fire
not eight feet from my head. I wanted to shoot the impertinent wretch,
but his form was indistinct and my rifle lying by my side had to be
trained his way. This took some time, as I had to move cautiously, and
in the midst of my effort my elbow slipped. Like a shadow he flitted
into the deeper gloom and I went to sleep again. I did not want to
shoot without certainty, though some nights later I did shoot with
Riley's huge double-barrelled shotgun loaded with buckshot straight into
our mess kit, not killing the wolf that was there, but putting holes in
numerous tin plates through which bean soup delighted to percolate, so
that I never heard the last of this midnight effort of mine to diminish
the wolf family.
The day following our arrival the Major came from Kanab and the plans
for our winter's campaign were put in operation. A base line for our
geographic work was necessary and this was to run south from Kanab, so
Prof. on December 7th, with Mrs. Thompson, Cap., Clem, Andy, Jones (who
had recovered his health), and one of the new men named MacEntee, left
us with loaded waggons to establish another camp nearer to the scene of
this work. Another member of the party was Fuzz, Mrs. Thompson's dog, an
intelligent Dandie Dinmont. As I was much interested to see Kanab, of
which so much had been said, and as it was now nearly seven months since
I had seen an occupied house, I decided to take a Sunday ride in that
direction. On the 17th, about noon, I put a saddle on a white mule which
Jack had named Nigger and was soon on my way. Emerging from the
Chocolate Cliffs the road led along the foot of the Vermilion Cliffs,
crossing long ridges covered with cedars and piñons with a vast view to
the Kaibab on the south and east, and soon joining a road that led from
a canyon to eastward where there was a very small settlement called
Johnson's, and from two or three houses which had been built where the
El Vado trail crossed the Paria River. Nigger went along very well and I
was in Kanab by three o'clock. The village, which had been started only
a year or two, was laid out in the characteristic Mormon style with wide
streets and regular lots fenced by wattling willows between stakes.
Irrigating ditches ran down each side of every street and from them the
water, derived from a creek that came down a canyon back of the town,
could be led into any of the lots, each of which was about one quarter
of an acre; that is, there were four lots to a block. Fruit trees, shade
trees, and vines had been planted and were already beginning to promise
near results, while corn, potatoes, etc., gave fine crops. The original
place of settlement was a square formed by one-story log houses on three
sides and a stockade on the fourth. This was called the fort and was a
place of refuge, though the danger from Navajo attack seemed to be over
and that from any assault by the Pai Utes certainly was past. One corner
of the fort was made by the walls of the schoolhouse, which was at the
same time meeting-house and ball-room. Altogether there were about 100
families in the village. The houses that had been built outside the fort
were quite substantially constructed, some of adobe or sun-dried brick.
The entire settlement had a thrifty air, as is the case with the
Mormons. Not a grog-shop, or gambling saloon, or dance-hall was to be
seen; quite in contrast with the usual disgraceful accompaniments of the
ordinary frontier towns. A perfectly orderly government existed, headed
by a bishop appointed by the church authorities in Salt Lake, the then
incumbent of this office being an excellent man, Bishop Stewart. I rode
to the fort, where I found Clem and Beaman domiciled with their
photographic outfit, with a swarm of children peeping through every
chink and crevice of the logs to get a view of the "Gentiles," a kind of
animal they had seldom seen. Every one was cordial. Beaman even offered
me a drink made with sugar-water and photographic alcohol, but it did
not appeal to my taste. It was after sunset when I started Nigger
towards Eight Mile Spring and I enjoyed the ride in the edge of night
with not a living thing, besides Nigger (and Nigger was a mule), to
disturb my reveries.
I had as yet seen none of the natives of the locality. They were now
very friendly and considered harmless, thanks to Jacob's wise
management. The only Indians the settlers dreaded were some renegades, a
band of Utes and Navajos, collected by a bold and skillful chief named
Patnish, whose "country" was south of the Colorado around Navajo
Mountain. He was reputed to be highly dangerous, and the Kanab people
were constantly prepared against his unwelcome visits. He had several
handsome stalwart sons, who dressed in white and who generally
accompanied him. Though Patnish was so much feared, I do not remember to
have heard that he committed any depredations after this time. There had
been much trouble with the Navajos, but Jacob, growing tired of the
constant warfare, had resolved to go to them and see if he could not
change the state of affairs. When he had guided the Major to the Moki
Towns and Fort Defiance the year before (1870), about six thousand
Navajos were assembled at the Agency. The chiefs were invited to meet in
council on the 2d of November, and all the principal chiefs but one and
all subchiefs but two were there. The Major led the way by introducing
Jacob and speaking in highly complimentary terms of the Mormons; and
Jacob then gave a long talk in his low-voiced way, illustrating the
great evils of such warfare as had existed, and closed by saying:
"What shall I tell my people the 'Mormons' when I return home?
That we may expect to live in peace, live as friends, and
trade with one another? Or shall we look for you to come
prowling around our weak settlements, like wolves in the
night? I hope we may live in peace in time to come. I have now
grey hairs on my head, and from my boyhood I have been on the
frontiers doing all I could to preserve peace between white
men and Indians. I despise this killing, this shedding of
blood. I hope you will stop this and come and visit and trade
with our people. We would like to hear what you have got to
say before we go home."
Barbenceta, the principal chief, slowly approached as Jacob ended, and
putting his arms around him said: "My friend and brother, I will do all
that I can to bring about what you have advised. We will not give all
our answer now. Many of the Navajos are here. We will talk to them
to-night and will see you on your way home." Several days later Jacob
met him and the chiefs who had been absent; he said they would all
really like to see peace with the Mormons carried out, and continued:
"We have some bad men among us, but if some do wrong, the wise
ones must not act foolishly, like children, but let it be
settled according to the spirit of your talk at Fort Defiance.
Here is Hastele. I wish you would take a good look at him, so
you will not be mistaken in the man. He never lies or steals.
He is a truthful man; we wish all difficult matters settled
before him. He lives on the frontier nearest to the river; you
can find him by inquiry. We hope we may be able to eat at one
table, warm by one fire, smoke one pipe, and sleep under one
blanket."
[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.
From South Rim near Bright Angel Creek.]
Jacob proceeded towards home, taking a Moki, named Tuba, and his wife
back with him, so that they might see the Mormon country. Arriving at
the crossing of the Colorado Tuba was sad. He said his people had once
lived on the other side, and their fathers had told them they never
again would go west of the river to live. "I am now going on a visit to
see my friends. I have worshipped the Father of us all in the way you
believe to be right; now I wish you would do as the Hopees think is
right before we cross." Jacob assented, and Tuba, he said,
"then took his medicine bag from under his shirt and offered
me a little of its contents. I offered my left hand to take
it; he requested me to take it with my right. He then knelt
with his face to the east, and asked the Great Father of us
all to preserve us in crossing the river. He said that he and
his wife had left many friends at home, and if they never
lived to return their friends would weep much. He prayed for
pity upon his friends the Mormons, that none of them might
drown in crossing; and that all the animals we had with us
might be spared, for we needed them all, and to preserve unto
us all our food and clothing, that we need not suffer hunger
nor cold on our journey. He then arose to his feet. We
scattered the ingredients from the medicine bag into the air,
on to the land, and into the water of the river."
When they were all safely over Tuba gave thanks that his prayer had been
answered.[26]
The last white men to be killed by the Navajos in the Kanab region were
Dr. Whitmore and his herder at Pipe Springs, twenty miles west, five
years before in the winter of 1865-66. The raiders were pursued by a
strong party, and some of them, turning down the Kanab Canyon, perhaps
thinking the river could be crossed there, were surprised and fired on
at dawn. Some escaped, though wounded. Jacob kept a close watch on all
the passes, and especially at El Vado. Several raiders were intercepted
and shot. In 1869 a raiding band successfully drove off twelve hundred
head of horses and cattle from northern settlements, and the winter of
1869-70 was one of the worst, requiring Jacob's presence in the field
almost constantly. He was accompanied by friendly Pai Utes, who hated
the Navajos. One Navajo was shot in a band who had stolen cattle, but
the others were allowed to leave on giving up the stock. The shot did
not kill the Navajo, and they followed to see what became of him. He was
carried along by his friends to where another raiding party was
encamped. The Pai Utes then killed two of this party, scalping one, but
refraining from taking the scalp of the other because he had sandy hair
and looked too much like a white man. Later three more Navajos were
killed in a fight, but the rest escaped with ten horses. Jacob grew
heartily sick of this kind of work, and made the resolve to appeal to
the Navajos, with the result stated. He also visited the Red Lake Utes
to the north, and all the Indians along the Sevier. Beginning with the
band of Navajos under Agua Grande, which we had met at El Vado, they
came north in numerous parties with perfect confidence that the Mormons
would receive them peacefully. But they continued to despise the Pai
Utes, considering them beneath notice.
In September of the year 1870 the Major, by Brigham Young's advice, had
engaged Jacob to go with him to Mt. Trumbull in the Uinkaret region
adjoining the Shewits country. Jacob, wishing to see these Indians
himself, was very willing to go. They made a camp by a spring, and
finding some natives near, Jacob asked them to bring in some of the
party who had taken part in the killing of the Howlands and Dunn the
year before. Twelve or fifteen finally came, and they had a talk.
"I commenced [said Jacob] by explaining to the Indians
Professor Powell's business. I endeavoured to get them to
understand that he did not visit their country for any purpose
that would work evil to them, that he was not hunting gold or
silver or other metals; that he would be along the river next
season with a party of men, and if they found any of them away
from the river in the hills, they must be their friends and
show them places where there was water if necessary."
They replied that friends of theirs from across the river had declared
the men were miners and advised killing them, for if they found mines it
would bring great evil among them. The men were followed and killed
while asleep. They declared that had they been correctly informed about
the men they would not have killed them. Kapurats ("No-arm," meaning the
Major), they said, could travel and sleep in their country unmolested
and they would show him and his men the watering-places.[27]
On December 19th we moved our camp from Eight Mile Spring to a place
below the gap in the Chocolate Cliffs south of Kanab and not far below
the Utah-Arizona boundary; the 37th parallel. Bonnemort and I remained
behind to gather up the last articles and it was dark when we reached
the new ground. Our large tent was pitched in the creek bottom with the
others not far off, making quite a settlement. The weather was rainy and
cold, but a conical sheet-iron stove heated the tent well and there we
had dry comfortable evenings, some of the men singing, some writing
letters or plotting notes, others reading and still others perhaps
playing a game. Bonnemort was something of a singer and was specially
fond of _Beautiful Isle of the Sea_, but Jack still maintained his
complete supremacy as a tenor. His repertory always increased and he was
ever ready to entertain us. One of his selections I remember was the
ballad:
"I wandered by the brookside,
I wandered by the mill;
I could not hear the brook flow,
The noisy wheel was still,
There was no burr of grasshopper
No chirp of any bird,
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard."
Mrs. Thompson had a sweet voice and knew a lot of songs, which were
frequently heard issuing from her tent, and this, with the presence of
Mrs. Powell and the baby, added to the locality a pleasant homelike air.
Both Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Powell had been familiar with camp life,
Mrs. Powell having spent a winter, 1868-69, with the Major in Middle
Park, Colorado, near the camp of Chief Douglas, the father of our friend
Douglas Boy.
Andy cooked all the meals on a fire out of doors, and they were no
longer served in our "go fur it boys" canyon style, but a large canvas,
showing by its colour the effects of exposure, was elegantly spread on
the ground and around its edges the tin plates, cups, etc., were
arranged, with the beanpot and other provender in the middle. This
method continued henceforth. The company would sit around on the ground,
each in whatever position was comfortable. Liberal portions of bread and
sorghum molasses formed the dessert, and after a while so indispensable
did the sorghum grow that we dubbed it the "staff of life." It was easy
to get, quantities being produced in "Dixie." Kanab besides being
favoured with two mails a week had a telegraph line connecting with the
settlements of the Virgin region and with Salt Lake, and we now felt
that once more we had a grip on the world.
On the 22d of December the Major, accompanied by Captain Dodds, Riley,
and one of the Kanab men, John Stewart, a son of the bishop, started for
the Kaibab to find a way to get rations to the Colorado next year near
the mouth of the Little Colorado. The weather now was rather stormy but
Prof. continued his observations as well as he could, and parties were
sent out in a number of directions to place flags and monuments for the
geodetic work. The base line was to be measured south from near Kanab
for about ten miles. Christmas day came with rain and small prospect of
special enjoyment, and we all kept the shelter of the tent after hunting
up the horses in mud ankle-deep. But our dinner was a royal feast, for
Mrs. Thompson herself made a huge plum-pudding and Prof. supplied butter
and milk from Kanab, making this feature of the holiday an immense
success. In the evening a number of us rode up to the settlement to
witness a dance that had been announced to take place in the
schoolhouse, tabernacle, or town hall--the stone building in the corner
of the fort which answered all these functions. The room was about 15 by
30 feet and was lighted by three candles, a kerosene lamp, and a blazing
fire of pitch pine. Two violins were in lively operation, one being
played by Lyman Hamblin, a son of Old Jacob, and there was a refreshing
air of decorous gaiety about the whole assemblage. Dancing is a regular
amusement among the Mormons and is encouraged by the authorities as a
harmless and beneficial recreation. At that time the dances were always
opened with prayer. Two sets could occupy the floor at one time and to
even things up, and prevent any one being left out, each man on entering
was given a number, the numbers being called in rotation. None of our
party joined as we were such strangers, but we were made welcome in
every respect. It was ten o'clock before we left, and the way being dim
and muddy, midnight was on before we threw off saddles at our camp.
The next morning work was begun on the base line, but for some days the
weather was so bad that little was accomplished. The year 1871 ended in
this way and we hoped the new one would be more propitious.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 24: Five years later Jacob came near being drowned in crossing
here. Lorenzo W. Roundy was lost, as well as two waggons loaded with
supplies. The scow they had tried to use tilted, throwing everything
into the fierce torrent.]
[Footnote 25: It was in the rapid in Marble Canyon near the mouth of the
canyon of this creek that Frank M. Brown was drowned in July, 1889.]
[Footnote 26: _Jacob Hamblin_, a Narrative, etc. Faith-promoting
Series--Juvenile Instructor Office, Salt Lake City--1881.]
[Footnote 27: In 1864 the danger from the Pai Utes, who had not been
well treated, increased till Jacob had to take the matter in hand and
made a visit to the place where they were gathering for attack. He was
asked how many men he wanted to go with him, and he answered, "One, and
no arms; not even a knife in sight."]