A General Scout--An Indian Trap--Flying Artillery--A Narrow Escape--A
Tragic Scene--Fortunes of War--A Scout’s Description--Recovery from a
Sudden Leap--Surrounded by Enemies.
While Captain Boling was engaged in capturing the Indians we had
“treed” on the north side of the valley, scouting parties were sent
out by Lieut. Chandler. They spread over the valley, and search was
made in every locality that was accessible. Discovering fresh signs
on a trail I had unsuccessfully followed on my first visit, I pursued
the traces up to a short distance below Mirror Lake. Being alone I
divided my attention between the wonders of the scenery and the tracks
I was following, when suddenly I was aroused by discovering a basket of
acorns lying by the trail. Seeing that it was a common carrying basket,
such as was generally used by the squaws in “packing,” I at first came
to the conclusion that it had been thrown off by some affrighted squaw
in her haste to escape on my approach. Observing another on a trail
leading toward the Talus, I felt confident that I had discovered the
key to the hiding-place of the Indians we were in search of. Securing
my mule with the “riata” I continued the search, and found several
baskets before reaching the walls of the cliff, up which, in a kind
of groove, the trail ascended. By this time I began to be suspicious,
and thought that there was too much method in this distribution of
acorns along the trail for frightened squaws to have made, and it
now occurred to me what Sandino had said of acorns being hulled for
transportation up the cliffs; and these _had not been hulled_!
Before reaching the Talus, I observed that the foot-prints were large,
and had been made by the males, as the toes did not turn in, as was
usual with the squaws; and it now began to appear to me, that the
acorns were only left to lead us into some trap; for I was aware that
“warriors” seldom disgraced themselves by “packing,” like squaws.
Taking a look about me, I began to feel that I was venturing too
far; my ambitious desire for further investigation vanished, and I
hastened back down the trail. While descending, I met Lt. Gilbert of
C company, with a few men. They too had discovered baskets, dropped
by the “_scared Indians_,” and were rushing up in hot pursuit, nearly
_capturing_ me. I related my discoveries, and told the Lieutenant of
my suspicions, advising him not to be too hasty in following up the
“_lead_.” After I had pointed out some of the peculiarities of the
location above us, he said with a sigh of disappointment, “By George!
Doc. I believe you are right--you are more of an Indian than I am any
way; I reckon we had better report this to the Captain before we go
any further.” I replied, “I am now going in to report this strategy
to Captain Boling, for I believe he can make some flank movement and
secure the Indians, without our being caught in this trap.” But while
we were descending to the trail, I seriously thought and believed, that
Lt. Gilbert and his men as well as myself, had had a narrow escape.
The bit of history of the rear guard of Charlemagne being destroyed
by the Pyrenians flashed through my mind, and I could readily see how
destructive such an attack might become.
After taking the precaution to secrete the baskets on the main trail,
Lt. Gilbert, with his scouts, continued his explorations in other
localities, saying as he left that he would warn all whom he might
see “not to get into the trap.” I mounted my mule and rode down the
valley in search of Captain Boling, and found him in an oak grove near
our old camp, opposite a cliff, now known as “Hammo” (the lost arrow).
I here learned the particulars of his successful capture of the five
scouts of Ten-ie-ya’s band, and at his request asked them, through
Sandino, who had come over with the “_kitchen mules_,” why they had so
exposed themselves to our view. They replied that Ten-ie-ya knew of our
approach before we reached the valley. That by his orders they were
sent to watch our movements and report to him. That they did not think
we could cross the Merced with our horses until we reached the upper
fords; and therefore, when discovered, did not fear. They said that
Ten-ie-ya would come in and “have a talk with the white chief when he
knows we are here.”
After repeated questioning as to where their people were, and where the
old chief would be found if a messenger should be sent to him, they
gave us to understand that they were to meet Ten-ie-ya near To-co-ya,
at the same time pointing in the direction of the “North Dome.” Captain
Boling assured them that if Ten-ie-ya would come in with his people he
could do so with safety. That he desired to make peace with him, and
did not wish to injure any of them. The young brave was the principal
spokesman, and he replied: “Ten-ie-ya will come in when he hears what
has been said to us.”
Having acquired all the information it was possible to get from
the Indians, Capt. Boling said that in the morning he would send a
messenger to the old chief and see if he would come in. When told
this the young “brave” appeared to be very anxious to be permitted to
go after him, saying: “He is there now,” pointing towards the “North
Dome,” “another day he will be on the ‘Skye Mountains,’ or anywhere,”
meaning that his movements were uncertain.
Capt. Boling had so much confidence in his statements, that he decided
to send some of the scouts to the region of the North Dome for
Ten-ie-ya; but all efforts of our allies and of ourselves, failed to
obtain any further clue to Ten-ie-ya’s hiding-place, for the captives
said that they dare not disclose their signals or countersign, for
the penalty was death, and none other would be answered or understood
by their people. I here broke in upon the captain’s efforts to obtain
_useful knowledge_ from his prisoners, by telling him of the discovery
of baskets of acorns found on the trail; and gave him my reasons for
believing it to be a design to lead us into an ambush--that the Indians
were probably on the cliff above. I volunteered the suggestion that a
movement in that direction would surprise them while watching the trap
set for us.
Captain Boling replied: “It is too late in the day for a job of that
kind; we will wait and see if Ten-ie-ya will come in. I have made up
my mind to send two of our prisoners after him, and keep the others as
hostages until he comes. To make a sure thing of this, Doctor, I want
you to take these two,” pointing to one of the sons and the son-in-law
of Ten-ie-ya, “and go with them to the place where they have said a
trail leads up the cliff to Ten-ie-ya’s hiding place. You will take
care that they are not molested by any of our boys while on this trip.
Take any one with you in camp, if you do not care to go alone.”
Taking a small lunch to break my fast since the morning meal, I
concluded to make the trip on foot; my mule having been turned loose
with the herd. Arming myself, I started alone with the two prisoners
which Capt. Boling had consigned to my guardianship. I kept them ahead
of me on the trail, as I always did when traveling with any of that
race. We passed along the westerly base of the North Dome at a rapid
gait, without meeting any of my comrades, and had reached a short
turn in the trail around a point of rocks, when the Indians suddenly
sprang back, and jumped behind me. From their frightened manner, and
cry of terror, I was not apprehensive of any treachery on their part.
Involuntarily I cried out, “Hallo! what’s up now?” and stepped forward
to see what had so alarmed them. Before me, stood George Fisher with
his rifle leveled at us. I instantly said: “Hold on George! these
Indians are under my care!” He determinedly exclaimed without change of
position, “Get out of the way, Doctor, those Indians have got to die,”
Just behind Fisher was Sergeant Cameron, with a man on his shoulders.
As he hastily laid him on the ground, I was near enough to see that his
clothing was soiled and badly torn, and that his face, hands and feet
were covered with blood. His eyes were glazed and bloodshot, and it
was but too evident that he had been seriously injured. From the near
proximity of the basket trail, I instantly surmised they had been on
the cliff above. The scene was one I shall long remember.
It seemed but a single motion for Cameron to deposit his burden and
level his rifle. He ordered me to stand aside if I valued my own
safety. I replied as quietly as I could, “Hold on, boys! Captain Boling
sent me to guard these Indians from harm, and I shall obey orders.”
I motioned the Indians to keep to my back or they would be killed.
Cameron shouted: “They have almost killed Spencer, and have got to
die.” As he attempted to get sight, he said: “Give way, Bunnell, I
don’t want to hurt you.” This I thought _very condescending_, and I
replied with emphasis: “These Indians are under my charge, and I shall
protect them. If you shoot you commit murder.” The whole transaction
thus far seemingly occupied but a moment’s time, when to the surprise
of us all, Spencer called my name. I moved forward a little, and said
to them, “Throw up your rifles and let me come into to see Spencer.”
“Come in! _you_ are safe,” replied Fisher--still watching the Indians
with a fierce determination in his manner. Spencer raised himself in a
sitting position, and at a glance seemed to take in the situation of
affairs, for he said: “Bunnell is right; boys, don’t shoot; mine is but
the fortune of war;” and telling Cameron to call me, he again seemed to
fall partly into stupor. As I again moved towards them with the Indians
behind me, they with some reluctance, put up their rifles. Fisher
turned his back to me as he said with sarcasm, “Come in with your
friends, Doctor, and thank Spencer for their safety.” They relieved
their excitement with volleys of imprecations. Cameron said that I
“was a ---- sight too high-toned to suit friends that had always been
willing to stand by me.”
This occurrence did not destroy good feeling toward each other, for we
were all good friends after the excitement had passed over.
I examined Spencer and found that, although no bones were broken,
he was seriously bruised and prostrated by the shock induced by his
injuries. Fisher started for camp to bring up a horse or mule to carry
Spencer in. I learned that they had fallen into the trap on the “basket
trail,” and that Spencer had been injured while ascending the cliff as
I had suspected. He had, unfortunately, been _trailed in_, as I had
been. The particulars Cameron related to me and in my hearing after we
had arrived in camp. As the Indians represented to me that the trail
they proposed to take up the cliff was but a little way up the north
branch, I concluded to go on with them, and then be back in time to
accompany Spencer into camp. Speaking some cheering words to Spencer
I turned to leave, when Cameron said to him: “You ain’t dead yet, my
boy.” Spencer held out his hand, and as he took it Cameron said, with
visible emotion, but emphatic declaration: “We will pay them back for
this if the chance ever comes; Doc. is decidedly too conscientious in
this affair.” I escorted the Indians some way above “Mirror Lake,”
where they left the trail and commenced to climb the cliff.
On my return I found that Cameron had already started with Spencer;
I soon overtook them and relieved him of his burden, and from there
carried Spencer into camp. We found Fisher vainly trying to catch his
mule. The most of the horses were still out with the scouts, and all
animals in camp had been turned loose. Sergt. Cameron, while Fisher
was assisting me in the removal of Spencer’s clothing aid dressing
his wounds, had prepared a very comfortable bed, made of boughs, that
the kind-hearted boys thoughtfully brought in; and after he was made
comfortable and nourishment given him, the Sergeant related to Captain
Boling the details of their adventure, which were briefly as follows:
Cameron and Spencer while on their way back to camp discovered the
baskets on the trail. Feeling certain that they had discovered the
hiding-place of the Indians, as we had done, they concluded to make
a reconnoissance of the vicinity before making a report of their
discovery. Elated at their success, and unsuspicious of any unusual
danger, they followed the trail that wound up the cliff, along jutting
rocks that in places projected like cornices, until the converging
walls forced them to a steep acclivity grooved in the smooth-worn rock.
Not daunted by the difficult assent, they threw off their boots and
started up the slippery gutter, when suddenly a huge mass of granite
came thundering down towards them. But for a fortunate swell or
prominence just above they would both have been swept into eternity;
as it was, the huge rock passed over their heads; a fragment, however,
struck Spencer’s rifle from his hand and hurled him fifty feet or more
down the steep wall, where he lay, entirely senseless for a time, while
a shower of rocks and stones was passing over him, the shape of the
wall above sending them clear of his body.
Cameron was in advance, and fortunately was able to reach the shelter
of a projecting rock. After the discharge, an Indian stretched himself
above a detached rock, from which he had been watching his supposed
victims. Cameron chanced to be looking that way, and instantly firing,
dropped his man. No doubt he was killed, for the quantity of blood
found afterward on the rock, was great. The echoing report of Cameron’s
rifle, brought back howls of rage from a number of rocks above, as if
they were alive with demons. Anticipating another discharge from their
battery, Cameron descended to the spot where Spencer had fallen, and
taking him in his arms, fled out of range.
After supper, the explorers having all come in, the boys gathered
around the Sergeant and importuned him to give the history of his
adventures. After reflectively bringing up the scene to view, he began:
“We got into mighty close quarters! Come to think of it, I don’t see
how we happened to let ourselves be caught in that dead-fall. I reckon
we must have fooled ourselves some. The way of it was this. We went up
on the south side as far as we could ride, and after rummaging around
for a while, without finding anything, Spencer wanted to go up the
North Cañon and get a good look at that mountain with one side split
off; so I told the boys to look about for themselves, as there were no
Indians in the valley. Some of them went on up the South Cañon, and the
rest of us went over to the North Cañon. After crossing the upper ford,
Spencer and I concluded to walk up the cañon, so we sent our animals
down to graze with the herd. Spencer looked a good long while at that
split mountain, and called it a ‘half dome.’ I concluded he might
name it what he liked, if he would leave it and go to camp; for I was
getting tired and hungry and said so. Spencer said ‘All right, we’ll go
to camp.’
On our way down, as we passed that looking-glass pond, he wanted to
take one more look, and told me to go ahead and he’d soon overtake
me; but that I wouldn’t do, so he said: “No matter, then; I can come
up some other time.” As we came on down the trail below the pond, I
saw some acorns scattered by the side of the trail, and told Spencer
there were Indians not far off. After looking about for a while Spencer
found a basket nearly full behind some rocks, and in a little while
discovered a trail leading up towards the cliff. We followed this up a
piece, and soon found several baskets of acorns. I forgot about being
hungry, and after talking the matter over we decided to make a sort of
reconnoissance before we came in to make any report. Well, we started
on up among the rocks until we got to a mighty steep place, a kind
of gulch that now looked as if it had been scooped out for a stone
battery. The trail up it was as steep as the roof on a meeting-house,
and worn so slippery that we couldn’t get a foot-hold. I wanted to see
what there was above, and took off my boots and started up. Spencer did
the same and followed me. I had just got to the swell of the steepest
slope, where a crack runs across the face of the wall, and was looking
back to see if Spencer would make the riffle, when I heard a crash
above me, and saw a rock as big as a hogshead rolling down the cliff
toward us. I sprang on up behind a rock that happened to be in the
right place, for there was no time to hunt for any other shelter.
I had barely reached cover when the bounding rock struck with a crash
by my side, and bounded clear over Spencer, who had run across the
crevice and was stooping down and steadying himself with his rifle. A
piece of the big rock that was shattered into fragments and thrown
in all directions, struck his rifle out of his hands, and sent him
whirling and clutching down a wall fifty feet. He lodged out of sight,
where in going up we had kicked off our leathers. I thought he was
killed, for he did not answer when I called, and I had no chance then
to go to him, for a tremendous shower of stones came rushing by me. I
expected he would be terribly mangled at first, but soon noticed that
the swell in the trail caused the rocks to bound clear over him onto
the rocks in the valley. I looked up to see where they came from just
as an Indian stuck his head above a rock. My rifle came up of its own
accord. It was a quick sight, but with me they are generally the best,
and as I fired that Indian jumped into the air with a yell and fell
back onto the ledge. He was hit, I know, and I reckon _he went west_.
Every rock above was soon a yelling as if alive. As I expected another
discharge from their stone artillery, I slid down the trail, picked up
Spencer, and “vamoosed the ranche,” just as they fired another shot
of rocks down after us. I did not stay to see where they struck after
I was out of range, for my rifle and Spencer took about all of my
attention until safely down over the rocks. While I was there resting
for a moment, Fisher came up the trail. He heard me fire and had heard
the rocks tumbling down the cliff. Thinking some one was in trouble, he
was going to find out who it was.
“We concluded at first that Spencer was done for; for his heart beat
very slow and he was quite dumpish. We had just started for camp with
him, and met Bunnell going out with the two Indians. I reckon we would
have sent them on a trip down where it is warmer than up there on the
mountains, if Spencer hadn’t roused himself just then. He stopped
the game. He called for the Doctor; but Bunnell was as stubborn as
Firebaugh’s mustang and would not leave the Indians. We had to let
them pass, before he would take a look at Spencer. Doc. is generally
all right enough, but he was in poor business to-day. When I told him
it was his own messmate, he said it didn’t matter if it were his own
brother. If Captain Boling will make a shooting match and put up the
other three, I’ll give my horse for the first three shots. Shooting
will be cheap after that.”
I have given the substance only of Sergt. Cameron’s talk to the group
around him, though but poorly imitating his style, in order to show the
feeling that was aroused by Spencer’s misfortune. Spencer’s uniformly
quiet and gentlemanly manners, made no enemies among rough comrades,
who admired the courageous hardihood of “the little fellow,” and
respected him as a man. Many expressions of sympathy were given by the
scouts who gathered around our tent, on learning of his injury. For
some days after the event, he could scarcely be recognized, his face
was so swollen and discolored. But what Spencer seemed most to regret,
was the injury to his feet and knees, which had been cruelly rasped by
the coarse granite in his descent.
The injury from this cause was so great, that he was unable to make
those explorations that footmen alone could accomplish. He was an
enthusiastic lover of nature, an accomplished scholar and man of the
world. Having spent five years in France and Germany in the study of
modern languages, after having acquired a high standing here in Latin
and Greek.
We thought him peculiarly gifted, and hoped for something from his
pen descriptive of the Yosemite that would endure; but he could never
be induced to make any effort to describe any feature of the valley,
saying: “That fools only rush in where wise men stand in awe.” We were
bed-fellows and friends, and from this cause chiefly, perhaps, all the
incidents of his accident were strongly impressed on my memory. After
his full recovery his feet remained tender for a long time, and he made
but one extended exploration after his accident while in the battalion.
During the camp discussion regarding my course in saving the two
captives, Captain Boling and myself were amused listeners. No great
pains were taken as a rule to hide one’s light under a bushel, and we
were sitting not far off. The Captain said that he now comprehended
the extreme anxiety of the captives to see Ten-ie-ya, as doubtless
they knew of his intentions to roll rocks down on any who attempted to
follow up that trail; and probably supposed we would kill them if any
of us were killed. As he left our tent he remarked: “These hostages
will have to stay in camp. They will not be safe outside of it, if some
of the boys chance to get their eyes on them.”