The next morning Carson left Bent's Fort taking his four horses with
him going to his home at Taos, New Mexico, and Jim and I, taking five
horses, pulled out for Fort Kerney. Nothing of interest happened to us
on the way; and we made the trip in eleven days. As soon as we got to
the Fort, we called on the General; he was very glad to see us, and
invited us to stay all night with him. We accepted his invitation. That
evening at supper General Kerney mentioned my rescuing the two women at
the head of Honey Lake the year before; he recounted the incident very
much as it took place.
I said to him, "General, how in the name of common sense did you hear of
all that?"
He said, "Why the eastern papers have been full of it; and it will be
the best thing for you two men that could have happened; for no doubt
there will be hundreds of people here on their way to California, and
when they see you two men who are the heroes of that expedition they
will all want your services to pilot them across the plains, and I
assure you if there is any thing I can do to assist either of you in any
way I am more than willing to do it. I heard yesterday that there were
several small trains on the way coming from St. Joe, and they will be
here in a few days, so you are in good time to catch the first of
them, and I want you both to stay right here with me until you make
arrangements to leave for California. We will take a trip down the road
every day, and if there are any emigrants coming we will meet them."
[Illustration: The first thing we knew the whole number that we had
first seen was upon us.]
After breakfast next morning an orderly brought in our horses, all
saddled, the General's as well as ours. We all mounted and started down
the road. We had made five or six miles when we saw an emigrant train
coming towards us. The General said, "Look, boys, there they come now.
Let me do the talking."
The General had his uniform on, and Jim and I were dressed in buck-skin
from head to foot, and we were a rather conspicuous trio, as we rode up
to them. There were six or eight men on horse back, riding ahead of the
train. As we met them the General saluted them. One of the men said, "Is
this the commander at the Fort?"
The General answered, "I am. My name is Kerney."
One of the men said, "General, can you tell us whether the Indians are
on the war path or not between here and Salt Lake?"
The General answered, "I surely can. Every tribe of Indians between here
and the Sierra Nevada mountains is on the war path, and the emigrants
who get through this year without losing their lives or their stock may
consider themselves lucky," and pointing to Jim and me, he continued.
"These two men took a train through last year and only lost two men and
would not have lost them if they had obeyed orders."
One of the men asked, "Are these the men that piloted a train across and
had the trouble at Honey Lake last year?"
The General answered, "Yes, sir, they are, and that boy sitting on that
iron gray horse is the boy that planned and led the rescue of the two
women from the Indians."
One asked, "Are these the two men the papers said so much about last
fall? I think one was named Jim Bridger and the other's name was William
Drannan."
General Kerney smiled and answered, "Yes, these are the very men."
By this time the train had come up, and the other men of the company
gathered around us and being told who we were they all shook hands with
us, besides a great many of the ladies got out of the wagons and came to
us offering their hands. The people were all from Missouri and Illinois.
A man by the name of Tullock from Missouri asked us what we would charge
to pilot their train to California. Jim Bridger turned to me and said,
"Will, what do you think it would be worth?"
I said to the man who had asked the question, "Drive on about five
miles, and you will find a little creek and plenty of grass. Go into
camp there and select five or ten men to act as a committee, and we will
be there at four o'clock to meet you. You must give your committee full
power to deal with us. The committee must know the number of wagons,
the number of men, and the number of grown women; it will be more
satisfactory to you as well as to us to deal with a few men than for the
whole train to take a part in the business."
This plan seemed to meet with the approval of the men, so General
Kerney, Jim Bridger and I left them and rode back to the Fort. On the
way back the General asked Bridger how much he meant to charge the
emigrants to take the train across.
Bridger said, "What do you say, Will?"
I answered, "Jim, I look at it this way, we are held responsible for
the people's lives as well as their stock to get them to California in
safety; just think of the responsibility we are assuming; and as far as
I am concerned I will not undertake the job for less then four dollars a
day."
Bridger answered, "That settles it, Will, that's just my price."
The General said, "I think you are very moderate in your charges; I
should think they would jump at such a chance; for I assure you, you
will have your hands full day and night."
After we had eaten our dinner at the Fort Gen. Kerney accompanied
us back to the emigrant's camp. On our arriving there we found the
committee waiting to receive us. Mr. Tullock introduced us to the
others, and then said, "We want you to tell us what amount of money you
will charge us to pilot us across the plains to California."
I said, "Gentlemen, I want to ask you a few questions before I answer
yours; how many wagons have you in this train?" Mr. Tullock answered,
"Sixty four." "How many men?" "One hundred and forty-eight." "How many
women?" "Sixty four."
I then said, "I will now answer your question as to our price. If we
take charge of this train from here to California our price will be four
dollars a day to each of us, with this understanding that Mr. Bridger
has entire charge of the wagons both day and night, and I to have the
charge of the scout force. Now, gentlemen, I don't suppose any of you
know what the duty of a scout is, and I will explain it to you. Twenty
miles from here we will strike a country where all the Indians are
hostile, and for the next twelve hundred miles they are all on the war
path; now, if we undertake this job we shall want twelve good men to
help me in scouting; each of the twelve to be mounted, and our duty will
be to protect the train; three men to ride in the rear of the train and
three on each side, each three to keep about a half a mile from the
train, and the other three in the lead, and the duty of these scouts
will be when they see Indians coming towards the train to notify Mr.
Bridger at once, so he can corral the wagons to protect the women and
children and the stock, and my duty will be to ride to the highest hills
on either side of the road to keep a lookout for Indians all through the
day, and at night to watch for their camp fires. Now, gentlemen, I have
told you our terms and if you decide to employ us, it will take four or
five days to drill the outfit so it will be safe for us to start on this
long and dangerous journey. Now, it is for you to say what you will do."
Gen. Kerney then spoke for the first time. "Let me say a word,
gentlemen. These men know every camping ground and every watering place
and also every Indian run way from here to the Sierra Nevada mountains,
and you could not find better men for guides on the frontier, and the
price they ask for the dangerous service they will give you is the least
you can expect to give."
The committee walked away from us a short distance, and talked among
them selves about a half an hour, and then came to us, and said they
would accept our offer. Bridger then said, "Now gentlemen I want you
to pick out twelve men that are not afraid to ride alone and have
number-one eyesight and good hearing, for no doubt there will be many
times when the fate of the whole train will depend on these twelve men.
Will will start in to train them tomorrow morning if they are ready, and
he will tell them and show them just what they have got to do; and I
want every teamster to have his team hooked to his wagon by nine o'clock
in the morning. It is not necessary for you to take down your tents or
move any of your camp equipage at all; for I will drill the teamsters
out on that little prairie yonder," and he pointed to a clear space a
little ways up the road.
After these arrangements were made General Kerney went back to the Fort,
and Jim and I staid at the emigrants' camp that night, so we could be up
early the next morning to commence our work of drilling the men for the
coming trip. My men reported to me soon after breakfast, and they were
all fairly well mounted and well armed, each man having a pistol and
a rifle. We mounted our horses and rode about a half a mile away from
camp. We stopped and I explained to them what we had to do. After
showing them and drilling them about two hours I asked them if any of
them had ever shot from his horse's back. They said they never had;
neither had they ever seen any one shoot that way. I went a short
distance to a tree and made a cross mark with my knife. I then said to
them, "Now, my men I will show you what you must learn to do."
I then rode a hundred yards from the tree I had marked, turned my horse,
put spurs to him and had him running at his best. When I came near the
tree, I fired my pistol and also my rifle as I passed the tree and
didn't miss the mark over a foot with either shot. When I returned the
men were examining the bullet holes I had put in the tree. One of them
said, "That is wonderful shooting. But what seems to be a mystery is how
you can use both your gun and your pistol so near together."
I showed them how it was done, and then I said to them, "You will have
to practice this way of shooting when fighting with the Indians. They
never stand up and fight like a white man does, and if they should
attack us they will be on horse back, as that is their general mode of
fighting, and you are liable to meet them any moment, and you will be in
a country some of the time where you can not see a hundred yards ahead
of you, and you must always be prepared to give them a warm reception.
When we come out here this afternoon I want you to all try your hand at
shooting the way I have just done, from off your horse's back with him
on the run."
I met Jim at dinner, and asked him what success he had training his
teamsters. He answered, "Why, we will get there bye and bye, for every
man tries to do his best."
At that moment two of the committee came to where Jim and I stood
talking and said, "There is another large train of emigrants in sight.
What are you going to do with them?"
"I don't intend to do any thing with them," Jim answered. "It is the
business of you men of the committee to look after them, but if they
join this train they will have to bear their share of the expense, the
same as you do."
One of the men asked how much extra we would charge to take the other
train under our protection. Jim answered, "If there are forty wagons or
over that number, we will require one dollar a day extra and that will
lighten the expense on this train, and they must comply with all the
rules this train does; and if they are going to join us, I want them to
do so at once, for I want to get away from here day after tomorrow."
The man said he would attend to the matter at once, which he did, and
all of the new train joined us with the exception of four wagons and
eleven men. These eleven men claimed they could take care of themselves
at all times and in every place, and they pulled out alone.
The train over which Jim and I had control now numbered one hundred and
four wagons, and we had to work day and night to get them in shape to
start out on the road. We left there the third day after taking charge
of the train. That afternoon when I took my scouts out to practice
shooting, I had considerable sport at their expense. They were all
perfectly willing to try their guns and pistols, but they wanted some
one to take the lead. No one was willing to be the first one to shoot.
So I said, "I will settle the matter this way. I will call the name of a
man, and he must take his place and shoot." The first man I called rode
out saying, "I have never shot from the back of a horse." I answered,
"Well, there is always a first time for everything, and the quicker you
start in the sooner you will learn."
He rode off a short distance, whirled his horse and started for the
tree. When he got to within a few steps of the mark he fired his pistol,
and made a very good shot, but the report of the pistol frightened his
horse, and he wheeled and ran in the opposite direction of the one he
was going, and he had run about two hundred yards before he could stop
him. When the man rode back and saw the shot he had made, he felt
encouraged, and said, "I want to try that over again."
I answered, "All right, load your pistol and try again, and I will ride
by your side and perhaps that will quiet your horse."
This time he did fine for a green hand at that way of shooting. The next
man I called on fired his pistol before he got near the tree, and his
horse commenced to jump, and he dropped his gun. At that moment Gen.
Kerney rode up to us and said to the man, "That is one time, young man,
when if you had been in an Indian fight you might have lost your scalp
and you surely would have lost your gun. You must do better than that.
You must all take an interest in what Mr. Drannan is trying to teach you
to do, for you will need all the knowledge you can get to protect not
only your selves but the whole train before you get to California. The
Indians are all on the war path and you are liable to have a brush with
them any day after you leave Fort Kerney, and Mr. Drannan is fully
competent to teach you how to meet them, if you will follow his
instructions."
After talking a little longer to the men the Gen. rode away; and I was
glad to see that his advice had a good effect on the men; they all
seemed anxious to try their hand at shooting instead of being backward
as they had been before, and I heard one of them remark to another,
"Say, man, we have got to learn to shoot from our horses for that
General knows what he is talking about, and now let's get in and learn
as quick as we can."
After they had all had a try single handed at the mark on the tree I
said, "Now men, we will take a shot all together."
I then made a mark on the ground, about twenty steps from the tree we
had been shooting at. I then said to them, "We will go back to our
starting place," which was about two hundred yards, "then we will form
in, line, and we will make a dash as fast as our horses can carry us.
When we reach this mark I have made on the ground I will shout, "Fire!"
and every man must be ready to fire together, and be careful that you
keep in line together; for if you break your ranks in an Indian fight
you are almost sure to lose the battle; this drill will train your
horses at the same time it is training you."
We rode back, formed in line, and made the charge, and I was very much
surprised at the way the men all acquitted them selves. When I gave the
word "fire," the report was almost as one sound, so close were their
shots together. I went up to the tree and I found that every man had the
mark. I told them that they had done exceptionally well.
"It is getting near night, so we will go back to camp and after supper
we will practice signaling for one to use in case of danger to the
others."
When we got back to camp Bridger had just finished corralling the whole
train, and I was surprised to see how neatly it was done considering the
short time they had been drilling; I asked Jim when he would be ready
to pull out. He answered, "I am going to order an early breakfast for
tomorrow morning; and we will pull out as soon as we can after we have
eaten it. I want to make it to the crossing of the Platte tomorrow, and
it will take us all of the next day to cross the river, and as the river
has commenced to rise, the quicker we get across it, the better it will
be for us; after we cross the Platte we will have no more trouble with
high water until we get to Green river."
After supper I got my scouts together, and we went outside of the
corral; we all sat down on a log. I then asked them if any of them could
mimic a Coyote; they all looked at me a moment, and then one said, "I
don't think any of us ever saw a Coyote. What are they? What do they
look like?"
I could not help laughing, for I thought everyone knew what a Coyote
was. I told them that a Coyote was a species of Wolf, not as dangerous
as the Grey Wolf but three of them could make more noise than all the
dogs around the camp could, and I said, "You will see them in droves
between here and California, being so numerous the Indians pay no
attention to them; and we scouts often use the howl of a Coyote as a
signal to each other because this noise will not attract the attention
of the Indians; I will now show you how the Coyote howls."
I then gave two or three yelps mimicking the Coyote, and before I had
given the yelp the Coyotes answered me. They were about two hundred
yards from us in the brush. Some of the men jumped to their feet
exclaiming, "What was that?"
When I could stop laughing I told them those were my Coyote friends,
answering me.
The Coyotes and I kept up the howling several minutes, and quite a crowd
of men and women gathered around me, listening to the noise, and they
all wanted to know what it was that I was mimicking. Before I could
answer them Jim Bridger, who had come near unobserved by me, said,
"Will, suppose we give them the double howl?"
I said, "All right," and we howled together just a few times when the
Coyotes in the brush turned loose and such howling I never had heard
before in all my experience among them. A number of the women rushed up
to Jim and me, frightened nearly into spasms, crying, "oh, is there any
danger, of those dreadful beasts attacking the camp?"
Jim laughed heartily and assured them there was no danger as the Coyote
was the greatest coward in the forest and would run at the sight of a
man. I told the men that they would not have any scout duty to do until
after we crossed the Platte river, so we could all ride along the trail
together and practice the coyote signal, for they would need to know it
as soon as they crossed the Platte river.
The next morning we were astir very early, had our breakfast and were on
the road. A little after sunrise that morning, just as we were pulling
out, Jim said to me, "When we are within five or six miles of the Platte
I want you to go on ahead of the train and select a camping ground as
near the crossing of the river as you can; for if we camp near the
crossing we can get the train over the river very much quicker than we
can if we camp a distance back."
I left them in time to reach the river an hour before the train and had
good luck selecting a place to camp not a quarter of a mile from the
crossing. I found a little grove of timber with a beautiful little
stream of water running through it which I thought was just the place
for us to camp that night. I went back and reported to Jim. He said,
"Why, I ought to have remembered that little grove, but I clean forgot
it."
As soon as Jim had corralled the train, we turned our horses over to the
herders and struck out down to the river to see what condition the water
was in, and to our satisfaction we found that it had just commenced to
rise. Jim said, "As soon as you have eaten breakfast in the morning,
Will, I wish you would ride down here and cross the river and see if the
ford is clear of quick sand. If there is nothing of that kind to bother
us we ought to get the whole outfit over by noon."
When we returned to camp supper was ready. While Jim and I were eating,
about a dozen ladies came to us; among them was an old lady who said,
"Can't you men coax the wolves to howl again to night?"
Jim answered, "Yes, but I will bet my old boots that before another week
has passed you will want us to stop their howling so you can sleep," to
which she answered, "Well, where do they live? We don't see or hear them
in the day time."
Jim told her that the Coyotes stayed in hollow logs or caves or in thick
brush in the day time anywhere out of sight. Just at that moment a
Coyote yelped; he was up the river a short distance and for the next two
hours there was a continual howl. I asked the old lady if she thought
the wolves needed any coaxing to make them yelp. She said, no, she
guessed, Mr. Bridger was right when he said they were noisy. Early in
the morning I did not wait for breakfast but mounted my horse and went
down to the river. I crossed it at the ford to ascertain whether there
was quick sand in the ford enough to interfere with the crossing of the
emigrant train.
I will here explain to the reader that it was very necessary to examine
the fords of the Platte river, as it was a treacherous stream in the way
of quick sand, but this time I found nothing in the way to interfere
with our crossing. When I got back to camp they were just sitting down
to breakfast. I told Jim that there would be no trouble in crossing the
river, to which he replied, "All right, when we get ready to cross I
want you to lead the train. We will cross twenty-five wagons at a time,
and I will have all the mounted men ride on each side of the wagons to
keep the teams in their places."
We were successful in landing all the wagons in safety and were all on
the other side by eleven o'clock. I asked Jim where we should camp that
night; he asked me how far it was to Quaking Asp Grove. I told him I
thought it was about nine miles to that place.
He said, "Well, I think we can make it there in good season and that
will be a good place to camp."
I now instructed my scouts what their duty was, and we pulled out, I
taking the lead from one to two and a half miles ahead of the train.
Late that afternoon I discovered considerable Indian signs where they
had crossed the main trail. I followed their trail quite a way and
decided that they had passed that way about two days before.
After we went into camp I rode to the top of a high hill about a mile
away to look for Indian camp fires. I was soon convinced that there were
no Indians near us and started back to camp. I had got within a quarter
of a mile of the camp when I saw two men sitting on a log just ahead of
me; I rode up to them, and when I spoke to them I recognized them as two
of the eleven that left us with the four wagons at Fort Kerney. I said
to them, "Men, what are you doing here, and where are your teams and the
rest of the men who went with you?"
They answered, "The rest of the men are all dead, killed by the Indians
night before last; we made our escape by running off in the dark, and we
haven't had a bite to eat since supper that night, and in fact we did
not have much supper then, for the savages came on us when we were
eating."
I said, "What became of your wagons and teams?"
They said they did not know what became of them, for they made their
escape as soon as the Indians came upon them; that they ran a little
ways and stopped and listened to the cries of the others as long as
there were any left, and then wandering around through the woods ever
since, not knowing where they were or what would become of them, and
they continued, "We sat down here because we were so weak we could go no
further."
One then asked where the rest of the train was. I replied, pointing, "It
is about a quarter of a mile over there."
At that, one said to the other, "Let's go and get something to eat." I
showed them the way to the train, and as they were intimately acquainted
with some of the emigrants they soon had their hunger appeased.
While they were eating, they told us their experience. Three or four
miles before they camped for the night they saw the Indians. There were
at least seventy-five of them. They were on the north side of the road.
They would come close to the road and then disappear again.
"We tried to get near to talk to them, but they ran away as if they were
afraid of us. When we camped that evening there were about twenty-five
of them on a hill not more than a hundred and fifty yards from us. Two
of the men started to go up to them, but they ran away, and that was the
last we saw of them, and so we made up our minds that they had gone, and
we thought no more about them. It was good and dark when we sat down to
supper, and how so many of them came upon us without making any noise is
a mystery to us. The first thing we knew, the whole number we had first
seen was upon us, and of all the noise, the yells and whoops we ever
heard, they made the worst. If they had come up out of the ground, we
would not have been more surprised, and the arrows were flying in every
direction. As it happened we two were sitting a little away from the
rest of the men eating our supper, and at their first yell we jumped up
and made for the nearest brush; our guns were all in the wagons, and
the Indians were between us and the wagons, so we had no way to defend
ourselves. We went a little ways into the brush, and then we looked back
and saw the Indians using their tomahawks on the men we had left, and in
a few minutes all the noise was over and we supposed all the nine were
killed."
Jim Bridger then said, "You two men are the luckiest chaps I ever heard
of. You may be sure that the Indians did not see you that night, or they
would have trailed you up and had your scalps before the next morning."
One of the committee men came to where Jim and I were sitting and said,
"What shall we do about finding and burying those bodies?"
Jim answered, "That, sir, is your business, not ours. It is our business
to see that the people under our care do not meet with the same fate
these men have met, and I do not intend to put the lives of all this
train in danger by stopping to hunt for the remains of men who refused
with scorn to stay with us and share the protection we offered them;
they brought the trouble and their own deaths on them selves, but I will
say this, if any of you men want to hunt for these bodies and take the
time to bury them, I have no objection, but you must understand that
when you get outside of the scout force we shall not be responsible for
any thing that may happen to you."
At that moment more than twenty men spoke together, saying, "Mr. Bridger
is right, Mr. Bridger is right; he proposes to do just what he agreed to
do, and no one can blame him." One of the men then asked if we would be
willing to stop long enough to bury the bodies if we found them; Jim
said, "We have no objections to stopping if it is a suitable place to
make our camp, but if it isn't we can't afford to lose the time, as we
must make certain places to camp every day, for we are now in a hostile
Indian country, and in order to protect our selves we must camp in
certain places, for without we take this care this train will not be in
existence a week, and Will and I feel the responsibility that rests upon
us, for the lives of your women and children as well as your own are in
our hands."
At this moment a middle-aged lady who stood near us with the tears
running down her cheeks said, "Why don't you let Mr. Bridger and Mr.
Drannan have their way? You see what these other men came to by not
obeying their orders, and do you want to bring us all to the predicament
they are in?" At this Jim said, "I'll be dog goned if they will."
This settled the controversy for the time being.
That evening before we turned in for the night Jim and I talked the
matter over together; and we decided that after I put out the scouts in
the morning I would take ten men all mounted on horses and keeping about
five miles ahead of the train, and if we found the bodies I should set
the men I had with me to work digging graves, and I should turn back and
report to Jim what we had found, and the condition we found them in.
As soon as possible the next morning the men I had selected and myself
pulled out. We had made eight or nine miles when we found the bodies we
were looking for. They were all laying near together, around what had
been their camp fire, and all of them were scalped.
There was nothing about them to indicate that they had made any effort
to protect themselves. Every one of the heads was split, showing they
had been tomahawked, proving what the two survivors had told us about
the suddenness of the attack to be correct. We found their wagons nearly
empty. The covers had been torn off, the most of the bedding was gone
and some of their clothing. The eatables such as bacon and flour and
dried fruit was laying on the ground. I told the men I thought the best
way to bury them would be to dig one large grave and put them all into
it, and they seemed to be of the same mind. After helping to select a
spot for the grave, I left them and rode back to meet the train and
report our find. I told Jim all about the condition of things at the
dead men's camp, at which he said, "I guess we had better stop there a
couple of hours, which will give us time to bury the dead, and we can
reach our camping ground before night."
On reaching the place Jim corralled the train, and he then went to all
the families and told them that two hours was as long as we should stop
there. I said, "I will take a stroll around through the brush and see if
I can find some of their cattle."
I hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile when I found twelve head of
their oxen. When I drove them back to the wagons, the two men said they
were just half of the original number. They yoked them up and hooked
them to two of the wagons and took what they wanted of the provisions
and clothes and left the rest laying on the ground. As we were about to
leave Jim said, "It is too dog goned bad to leave all that grub for the
Coyotes to eat. That meat and flour will be worth fifty cents a pound
when you get to California."
Then several of the men and women commenced to gather up the stuff, the
men carrying the flour and the women the bacon, and they soon had it all
stowed away in their wagons.
Having laid the dead away in the best manner we could under the
circumstances, and every thing else being in readiness, we pulled out
for Barrel Springs. I told Jim not to look for me until about dark, as
I intended to climb the tall hills that we could see in the distance to
look for Indian camp fires. This being understood, my twelve scouts and
myself left the train in Jim's care. After giving the eleven scouts
their orders, I took the other one with me and took the lead. Nothing of
interest occurred until we had nearly reached the place where we were to
camp that night. Happening to look up on a high ridge to the north of
us, I saw a large band of Buffalo coming towards us, and I thought by
the lay of the ground that they must pass through the spot where we were
going to camp. I said to my companion, "Let's hitch our horses and get
those trees," pointing to a little grove of timber, which stood near the
springs. "Those Buffalo are going to come down there, and we want to get
as many of them as possible. Now don't shoot until they are opposite us,
and then aim to break their neck every time, and load and shoot as fast
as you can after you commence."
We only had a few minutes to wait. When we reached the timber, the
Buffalos were opposite us. They were within thirty feet of us. We both
fired and two Buffaloes fell. Now it was a race to see who could load
first. I was the quickest and got the next one. They were now on the
stampede, and it was a sight to see the number that was passing us. I
got three of them with my rifle and one with my pistol. My companion
shot three with his rifle. The one I shot with my pistol I don't think
was over ten feet from me when she fell. She was the nicest little
two-year-old heifer I had ever killed, and her meat was almost as tender
as chicken. We went to work dressing them and had them pretty well
underway when the train arrived.
Barrel Springs was one of the prettiest places for a camping ground I
ever saw. It was in a small, open prairie, surrounded by scattering
timber, a stream of cool and pure sparkling water running through the
center, and the grass was almost to the horses' knees.
As soon as Jim had corralled the train, he rode to where we were at work
and said, "Boys, I'll be gol durned if this ain't one of the times, you
done two good jobs at once."
I said, "How is that, Jim?"
He answered, "In the first place you provided meat for our supper, and
in the next, you drove the Buffalos off so we have plenty of grass for
the stock for their supper."
By this time nearly all the women were standing around us. This was the
first Buffalo they had ever seen and they were a great curiosity to
them. With the rest was a middle-aged lady, and with her she had two
daughters nearly grown. The mother stood near me watching me work.
She said, "Mr. Drannan, may I have a piece of that yearling's hind
quarter? I will tell you what I want to do with it; my girls and I have
picked a lot of wild onions today, and I want to make a stew, and we
want you and Mr. Bridger to come to our tent and eat supper."
I assured her she could have all the meat she wanted from my little
heifer. One of the girls ran to their wagon to get an ax and her father
to come and chop it off for them. By this time the men had about
finished dressing the Buffalo, and every body helped themselves to what
part they wanted. There was plenty for all, and some of the rough part
left over. It did not seem long to me when one of the girls came to Jim
and me and told us that her mother had sent for us to come and take
supper with them, and I think that was one of the times we did justice
to a meal, for a stew with onions was a rare dish for us woodsmen, and
a woman to cook it was a still more rare occasion. As soon as we had
finished eating, Jim stood up and in a loud voice said, "Ladies, how
many of you can dance?"
I think there were as many as twenty-five answered, "I can dance."
Jim said, "All right, get ready, and after dark we will have lots of
music."
One of the men asked, "Where are you going to get your music?"
Jim answered, "Why dog gone it, Will and Mr. Henderson have engaged a
band to play for us to night."
And in a few moments the band struck up in a Coyote howl, and Jim
laughed and said, "There, didn't I promise you a band? Isn't that
music?" And from then until midnight the howling never ceased. It was
something fearful to listen to. The smell of the Buffalo blood made them
wild, and they howled worse then usual that night. A great number of the
emigrants did not lay down until after midnight, and time after time
asked me if I thought there was any danger of them attacking the camp.
I told them there was no danger from them, and that if I knew there
weren't any Indians within twenty miles of us I could stop their yelling
in five minutes. They asked how that was possible. I told them that if
I was sure there were no Indians in hearing, I would fire my gun off a
time or two, and we would hear no more of the Coyotes at night. After
midnight they quieted down and every one went to sleep, except the
guards who watched the camp.
Jim and I were up very early the next morning and called all the others
to have an early breakfast, telling them we had to make twenty miles
that day to get to water and grass so we could camp that night. As soon
as breakfast was over Jim said to the women, "Now ladies, you won't have
any more music to dance to for the next three nights, for you will see
no more Buffalo, hear no more Coyotes, or see any Indians until we cross
Green River."
Several of the ladies said they would be glad if they never heard any
more Coyotes howl. They did not like that kind of music to dance to, or
to be kept awake all night listening to them either.
For the next three days everything passed along smoothly; when we
reached Green River, it was rising rapidly, and we had a great deal of
trouble crossing it. We had to hitch three teams to one wagon and six
and eight men had to ride each side to keep the teams straight.
Green River is a mountain stream and flows very rapidly, and at this
place was very narrow, and if the team should get ten feet below the
Ford they would be lost so swift is the current. We worked hard two days
getting everything across the river, but we got everything over in good
shape at last.
That night, after supper was over, we told all the people of the train
to be ready for starting on the road by sunrise in the morning, as we
had a long drive before us and it was all gradually uphill at that.
Several of the women asked when we were going to give them some more
Buffalo meat. Jim burst out laughing and asked them if they wanted some
more music to dance to. One girl said, "Have we got to have music every
time we have Buffalo meat?"
Jim told her that for the next two weeks we would have music every night
whether we had Buffalo meat or not, and very likely there would be times
we would hear Indian yells during the day.
"By that time," he said, "we shall be in the Ute country, and they are
the meanest tribe of Indians in the west, and we may look for trouble
with them any moment, day or night." And addressing the men he said,
"I want you to keep your guns loaded and ready for use at a moment's
warning, and you must stay with the wagons, all but the scouts, who will
be under Will's control, for if they attack us I want to give them as
warm a reception as we possibly can, for if we whip them in the first
battle, that will settle it with that bunch. They will not trouble us
again."
The next night we camped at Soda Springs. There were three springs close
together. Two of them were mineral, one strong with soda, and the other
was very salt, and the third one was pure cold water. As soon as the
wagons were corralled, several of the young girls took buckets and
started for the springs to get water, and as luck had it they all went
to the Soda spring. Not one of them had ever even heard of a soda spring
until they tried this one. They had not had any water to drink since
noon and were very thirsty, so drank very heartily without stopping to
taste, but as soon as the water was down, there was a cry from as many
as had drunk, and they all ran back to the wagons, screaming, "oh! oh! I
am poisoned, oh! What shall I do?" And with their hands pressed to their
breasts and the gas bursting from nose and mouth they did make a sad
sight to those who did not understand the effects of soda springs, but
to Jim and me it was very amusing, for we knew they were in no danger of
poison.
Some of the sufferers cried as well as screamed. I could not speak for
laughing, for I remembered my own first experience in drinking from a
soda spring, but Jim told them they were not poisoned and told them what
kind of water they had drunk. In a few moments all the crowd was at the
soda spring, drinking its poison water as the girls still called it. The
older women asked what they should do for water to cook with. I pointed
to the salt spring and told them to go and get water from that if they
had fresh meat to cook, and the water would salt it and for coffee I
pointed to the spring of water farthest from us, and I told the girls
they could drink all the water they wanted from that spring and not have
to make such faces as they did after they drank the soda. One of the
girls said she reckoned I would have made a face if I had felt as she
did. Jim stood near us with a smile on his lips, which I knew meant
mischief of some sort. He said. "Will, why don't you tell the girls how
you enjoyed your first drink of soda water?" And seeing how I blushed,
for my face was burning, he said, "I guess I had better tell them
myself. I don't think you know how comical you looked." And in the most
ridiculous way he could think of he described how I looked and acted on
that to me never-to-be-forgotten occasion, "My first drink from a soda
spring."
I have been told there is a large town at this place now, and that it is
a great resort for the sick. They use this salt water, which I forgot to
say was also hot as well as salt, for bathing, and is considered a great
cure for many diseases.
[Illustration: Waving my hat, I dashed into the midst of the band.]