All was in readiness for the start on the road the next morning, and
we pulled out in good season. Every thing worked smoothly for the next
three days, and then we were in the Ute country, and there were also a
great many Buffalo scattered all through the country. I had seen some
signs of Indians, but up to this time I had seen only one small band of
them, and they were going in the opposite direction from the one we were
going.
The evening of the third day, after we had eaten our supper, about
twenty men came to where Jim and I were sitting on a log having a smoke
and a private talk together.
One of them who seemed to be the leader said, "We want some Buffalo
meat, and we propose to go out and get some tomorrow. Now what do you
think about it?"
[Illustration: They raced around us in a circle.]
Jim said, "Which way do you think of going?" Pointing to the south, he
said, "We think of going down into those low hills not more than eight
or ten miles from the trail."
Jim answered, "I have no doubt you would find Buffalo and maybe kill
some, but I have grave doubt of your ever getting back alive."
The man said, "Do you think we would get lost?"
Jim answered, "Yes, I think you would, if the Indians shoot you full of
arrows and take your scalp off."
He answered, "We have got to find some Indians before they have a chance
to scalp us, and I don't believe there is an Indian out there, and we
are going hunting in the morning."
Jim answered, "All right, do just as you darned please, but I will tell
you this just here and now. When you go a half a mile from the train
without our consent, you will be out from under our protection, and we
shall not hold ourselves responsible for your lives."
They turned away from us, saying, "We will take the chances; we want
some Buffalo meat, and we are going to get it."
The next morning when the train pulled out twenty-three men left us,
mounted on their horses with their guns all in trim for a Buffalo hunt,
and four out of the twenty three was all we ever saw again either dead
or alive.
We pulled out, and everything moved on nicely all day. I saw a great
deal of Indian sign at various places during the day. About the middle
of the afternoon one of the scouts reported that he saw a band of
Indians off to the south. As soon as he reported this to me, I went with
him to the top of a high ridge where we could see all over the country,
and sure enough, there was a small band of Indians some two or three
miles south of our trail.
After watching them a few minutes, I saw that they were going from us,
so I knew that we were in no danger from that band.
We had to make an early camp that evening on account of water. It was
one of my duties to ride ahead of the train and look the country over
for signs of Indians to select a safe camping ground for each night,
although Jim and I always talked over the best place to camp the coming
night before we struck out in the morning.
That night I did not get in until Jim had the wagons all corralled. Jim
came to me as soon as I rode in and said, "Will, have you seen anything
of the men that went hunting this morning?"
I answered, "I neither saw or heard anything of them since I saw them
ride away this morning, but I will call my scouts together and ask them
if they have seen them during the day."
When I inquired of the men, I learned that they had not seen or heard of
them and had not even heard the report of a gun all day.
We had just finished eating supper that night when one of the committee
men came to us and said, "Don't you think you had better send out some
men to look for the party that went a hunting?"
Jim said, "I told those men not to go away from the train, that there
was danger of their losing their scalps if they left us, and I also told
them that if they went a half a mile from the train I should not be
responsible for them dead or alive. They answered that they did not
believe there was an Indian in the country, and that they would take the
chances anyway, and more than that, I would not know where to go to hunt
for them any more than you would, for the country for miles around is
like this, and I would be willing to bet anything that you will never
see them all again."
Dusk was settling down, and as the night came on and the hunters did not
come in, the excitement grew more intense. About twenty men came to me
and inquired if I knew what kind of a country the hunters would be apt
to go into. I answered that if they kept the course which they said they
intended to go, it would lead them to the Buffalo country and also into
the heart of the Indian country. One of them then asked me if I would
be willing to try to find the absent men if I had enough men with me to
help.
I answered, "Why, my friends, it would be like hunting for a needle in
a haystack. You certainly do not understand the ways of the Indians. If
the Indians have killed those men, they will take the bodies with them
if they have to carry them a hundred miles. They will take them to their
village and spend two or three days in having a scalp dance, so you will
see how useless it would be to try to find them, and what is more to be
thought of, if we should stay here two or three days we should in all
probability be attacked by the Utes ourselves, and there is no knowing
how many of the people would be killed, or how much other damage would
be done."
It was getting towards bed time when four women came to me with their
faces swollen with tears. One of them said, "Mr. Drannan, do you think
our husbands have been killed by the Indians?"
I answered, "That is a question I can not answer, but I will say that I
hope they have not; they may have lost their course and in that way have
escaped the Indians."
While I was talking with the women, I heard the tramp of horses' feet
coming towards camp on the trail.
I said, "Listen, perhaps they are coming now." and we went to meet
the coming horsemen. There were four of them, and one of them was the
husband of the woman I had been talking to. When they came up to us, he
jumped off his horse and, clasping his wife in his arms he said, "Oh
Mary, I never expected to see you again."
In a few minutes everybody in camp was standing around those four men,
and they surely had a dreadful story to tell. They said, they did not
know how far they had ridden that morning when they sighted a band of
Buffalo in a little valley. They fired at them and killed four; they
dismounted and turned their horses loose and went to skinning their
Buffalo and had the hides nearly off of them when, without a sound to
warn them of danger, the Indians pounced upon them, and of all the
yelling and shouting that ever greeted any one's ears, that was the
worst they had ever heard, and the arrows flew as thick as hail.
"One of them struck me here," and he pulled up his pants and showed us a
ragged wound in the calf of his leg. After we had looked at the wounded
leg, he continued his story. He said, "As soon as I heard the first
yell, I ran for my horse and was fortunate in catching him. I think the
reason of we four being so lucky in getting away was that we were a
little distance from the others. We were off at one side, and we four
were working on one Buffalo, and lucky for us our horses were feeding
close to us. I do not believe that one of the other men caught his horse
as their horses were quite a distance from them, and the Indians were
between the men and their horses. The last I saw of them was their
hopeless struggle against the flying Indians' arrows.
"We had mounted and had run a hundred or two hundred yards when we saw
that four or five Indians were after us. They chased us two or three
miles. It seemed that our horses could outrun theirs, and they gave up
the chase, but in the confusion we had lost our course, and we did not
know which direction to take, and we have been all the rest of the day
trying to find the train, and we are just about worn but, and we are
hungry enough to eat anything, at least I am."
As it happened, Jim Bridger was standing near me when the man was
talking. The man turned and said to him, "Mr. Bridger, I hope all the
people of this train will listen to your advice from this night until we
reach the end of our journey. If we four men had done as you told us to
do, we would not have suffered what we have today, and the nineteen, who
I have no doubt have been scalped by the savages, would have been alive
and well tonight. There is no one to blame but ourselves. You warned us,
but we thought we knew more than you did, and the dreadful fate that
overtook the most of the company shows how little we knew what we were
doing in putting our judgment in opposition to men whose lives have been
spent in learning the crafty nature of the Red-men."
Jim answered, "I always know what I am saying when I give advice, and I
knew what would be liable to happen to you if you left the protection of
the train. This is the third case of this kind which has happened since
Will and I have been piloting emigrants across the plains to California,
and I hope it will be the last."
There was but little sleep in camp that night. Out of the nineteen men
that were killed, twelve of them were the heads of families, and the
cries of the widows and orphaned children were very distressing for Jim
and me to hear, although we were blameless. The next morning just after
breakfast the committee of five men came to Jim and me and said they
wanted to have a private talk with us.
Jim said, "All right," and we all went outside the corral. When we were
alone by ourselves, one of them said, "I want to have your opinion with
regard to hunting for the bodies of the men who are lost. Do you think
it possible to find their bodies if they were killed?"
Jim said, "No, I do not. In the first place, we do not know where to
look. In the second place, the Indians may have carried them fifty or
seventy-five miles from where they killed them. In the third place, we
do not know where the Indian village is or in what direction to look for
it, and if we should find the Indian camp, they may be so strong that we
would not dare to attack them, so you will see at once how useless it
would be for us to attempt to do anything in regard to finding their
bodies."
One of the committee said, "Well, so you propose to pull out and go on?"
Jim said, "Yes, that is what I propose doing. For the next four hundred
miles we shall be in the worst Indian country in the West, and I want to
get this train through it as quickly as I possibly can."
The man answered, "It seems cruel to do it, but I suppose we must give
orders to get ready to move."
Jim replied, "Yes, we must be moving at once, for I cannot risk the
lives of the living to hunt for those who are dead."
We were on the road in less than an hour, the committee having told the
friends of the lost men what the consequences would be if they resisted
the idea of moving, and also the utter uselessness of trying to find
their friends dead or alive.
When the train was already to move, Jim rode down the whole length of
the wagons and told each man that he wanted every one of them to have
their guns and pistols loaded and ready for immediate action, for, he
told them, "We cannot tell at what minute we may be attacked by the
Indians, and if your guns were not ready for use, you would have a slim
chance of saving your own lives or the lives of those dependent on you."
Everyone seemed to understand the situation better than they ever had
before and promised to do as we had asked them to do. Everything moved
on satisfactory until about two o'clock in the afternoon, when one of
the scouts from the north side reported that a big band of Indians was
coming directly towards us. I spurred my horse to a run, and when we
reached a little ridge about a half a mile from the trail, I could see
them myself, and I could see that they were all warriors, for there
were no squaws or children with them, and I thought they would number a
thousand strong.
I sent my companion back to tell Jim what was in prospect for a
fight, and to be sure and have the Indian scalps hung up in the most
conspicuous places. I watched the Indians until they had got within a
half a mile of the trail, where they all stopped and huddled together
for several minutes. I decided they were planning the attack, for when
they started, they went directly for the train, which fact convinced me
that the Indians had had a scout out as well as I had, and that he had
been a little sharper than I was.
I now signaled for all the scouts to get to the train at once, and the
reader can rest assured that not one of them including myself was long
in getting there.
We found everything in readiness to receive the Indians. We rode inside
the corral of wagons and dismounted. I told my men to follow me. We went
to the head of the train, which was but a short distance. I placed eight
men under two wagons, four to a wagon, and took the other two with me to
the next wagon. I told them to lay flat on the ground, and when I cried
"fire" for each one to shoot and to be sure that he got his Indian.
When the savages got in sight of the wagons, they were probably a
hundred and fifty yards from them, and to my surprise they all stopped.
I had forgotten the scalps that Jim had hung up, but of course the sight
of them hanging on the top of the wagons stopped them, but they did not
stop longer than a few minutes. Then they began circling around the
wagons. I could see that there were two war chiefs with the outfit. I
knew this by their dress, for a war Chief always wears what is called a
bonnet. It is made of feathers taken from the wings and tails of eagles
and reaches from their head almost to their heels.
When they started to circle around the wagons, I said to the boys who
were with me under the wagon, "Now you watch that old red sinner who has
the lead. I am going to shoot at him, but I do not know as I can hit
him, he is so far away, but if I can get him we have won the battle."
They answered, "Fire away, and if you miss we will try our hand at him."
I drew a bead at the top of his head, and when the gun cracked I saw
that I had hit him. One of the boys cried, "You have hit him," and at
that moment he swayed and tumbled from his horse. The report of my gun
seemed to be a signal for the whole train to fire, and for the next
minute the noise of the guns was terrific. While they all did not hit an
Indian, they did fairly well for men in an Indian battle for the first
time. There were forty-two dead Indians left on the ground, and as the
report of the last gun died away, the Indians turned their horses and
fled in the opposite direction, and I ran to the old Chief to get his
scalp.
I had just finished taking his scalp after taking his bonnet off when
Jim Bridger and quite a crowd of the other men came running up to me.
Jim said, "Did you do that, Will?" I answered, "I did," and then one of
the boys who were with me under the wagon said, "Mr. Drannan sure shot
him, for he told us to see him get him, and at the report of his gun,
Mr. big Chief went to the Indians' happy hunting grounds."
Jim slapped me on the back and said, "That is the best shot you ever
made, Will, for that bonnet and that scalp will protect this train from
here to California without another shot being fired." I said, "You can
have this bonnet to use for a scare crow, Jim, but be sure and take good
care of it, for I want to keep it as a memento of this trip."
I then asked Jim if he were going to take the scalps off of the other
dead Indians. He said, "No, we have scalps enough now to protect the
train, and that is all we want. Besides, we haven't time; we must go on
to our camping ground, we have fifty or sixty miles to drive before we
can camp for the night."
As we were pulling out, I said to the scouts, "We are in the Buffalo
country, and there will be no more trouble with the Indians; let us try
to get some fresh meat for supper." I knew that we would camp near a
little stream a few miles from where we had the fight, and also that it
was a great feeding ground for Buffalo at this time of the year. When
we were within a quarter of a mile of the stream, where we were to camp
that night, we saw that the valley was covered with Buffalo. I sent all
but one of the men down a little ravine to the valley. I told them to
dismount and tie their horses just before they got to the valley and to
crawl down and each one get behind a tree at the edge of the valley, and
I and the other men would go around to the head of the valley and scare
the Buffalo, and they would run down to where they were in hiding. I
told the men to be sure and not shoot until the Buffalo started to run,
and then to shoot all they could get with their guns, and when they had
emptied them to use their pistols.
"Let us give the women and children a surprise tonight in giving them
all the fresh Buffalo meat they can eat."
Myself and companion rode around to the head of the valley, and when we
reached the top of the ridge, we looked down and saw hundreds of Buffalo
feeding. We spurred our horses to a run, and in a moment we were in the
midst of them, and it certainly was a grand sight to see that immense
herd on the stampede, as they all rushed down to the outlet where the
boys were waiting for them. In a few moments we heard the report of
guns, and we knew that the other boys, were getting the meat for supper.
I told my comrade to pick out his Buffalo and I would pick mine, and I
said to him, "Now don't shoot until you get near the other boys, and if
you want to kill him quick, shoot him through the kidneys." When I had
reached the mouth of the valley where the Buffalo had crowded together
in one big mass, I chose a two-year-old heifer, rode up to her side
and shot her through her kidneys, and she fell at my horse's feet with
hardly a struggle. I pulled my pistol and shot another one and broke its
neck. My comrade had picked a big cow, and she was the fattest Buffalo
I ever saw killed. The other boys had killed twelve, and we got three,
making fifteen in all, and what was best of all, the Buffalo all
lay near to where Jim had corralled the wagons. As the wagons were
corralled, I went to one of the committee and told him that my scouts
and I had killed fifteen Buffalo and asked him to send some of the
men of the train to help dress them and to divide the meat so all the
emigrants could have some fresh meat for their supper, and in a short
time I saw men and women with their arms full of meat, hurrying to their
camp fires.
Jim and I were sitting on a wagon tongue talking as we usually did every
evening when two little girls came running to us and said their papa
wanted us to come and eat supper with them. We went with the children to
their father's tent, and we found an appetizing meal waiting for us. Jim
and I had not tasted any fresh meat since starting out with this train
of emigrants at Green river. When we sat down, Jim said, "Lady, I am
afraid you will be sorry that you invited Will and me to supper, for you
may not have meat enough to go around. We have not had any fresh meat in
a dog's age, and we are big meat eaters any time." She answered, "Oh,
don't be uneasy. I have two pans full on the fire cooking now. I know
how much it takes to fill up hungry men, and you two are not the only
hungry men around this camp, and you may be sure we appreciate the feast
you planned to surprise us with"; and she turned to me with a smile.
"You see, Mr. Drannan, the boys told me all about your suggesting the
Buffalo hunt."
I answered that the meal she had set before us would pay for more than I
had done. Her husband said, "It has surely been a great benefit to all
the people of the train, for we were all suffering for fresh meat, and
you don't know how much we appreciate your thoughtfulness in providing
it for us."
As I left the tent where I had supper, about a dozen middle-aged ladies
came to me and said, "We would like to see that pretty thing you took
off that Indian."
I did not know what they meant by "A pretty thing" until Jim said, "Why,
Will, they want to see that war bonnet you took with the old chief's
scalp."
I went to our pack and got the bonnet and gave it to them, and for the
next two hours that Indian adornment was the talk of the camp. It was
carried from tent to tent, examined by nearly everyone, old and young,
in the whole emigrant train, and it was a curiosity to any white person,
and still more so to those not used to the Indians' way of adorning
themselves.
Jim explained to the emigrants why this piece of Indian dress in our
possession would be a protection to them in case of an attack on us
by the Indians; he said, "The Indians have no fear of being killed in
battle. Their great dread is of being scalped. They believe that if
their scalps are taken off their heads in this world, they will not be
revived in the next, or what they call the "Happy Hunting grounds of the
Indians," where they will dwell with the great spirit forever, and if
they should see this bonnet which none but a great chief can wear they
will think we must be powerful to have got it and will keep away from
us, fearing they may share the fate themselves."
Jim told the emigrants to be ready for an early start in the morning,
and then we separated for the night, the emigrants going to their tents
and Jim and I to lay our blankets under a tree.
Next morning after we had a hearty breakfast of cornbread and Buffalo
steak, Jim said, "Now, men and women, Will gave you all a treat in
Buffalo meat last night, but if all goes well, and we meet with nothing
to detain us, in one week from tonight I will give you a treat that will
discount his."
An old lady answered, "You must be mistaken, Mr. Bridger, for nothing
could taste better then the chunk of meat I broiled over the fire last
night."
Jim laughed and said, he would own up to the last night's supper being
extra good but asked how she thought Mountain Trout would taste. She
said she did not know, as she had never tasted any; Jim said, "Well,
you will know in a week from tonight, and you will say that my treat is
better than Will's, for Mountain trout is the best fish that ever swam
in the water."
We were on the road soon after sunrise the next morning, and everything
went well for the next three days. The third day's travel brought us
to Humboldt Well. As we were going into camp, I discovered a band of
Indians coming directly for the train. I notified Jim at once, and he
soon had the train corralled, and the chief's bonnet hung high above the
Indian scalps so all the Indians could see it. The savages seemed to
discover the bonnet and the scalps as soon as they saw the train, for
they stopped and came no nearer, and after gazing at the decorations on
the wagons a few moments they wheeled their horses and galloped away in
the same direction they had come, and we saw no more of them. As soon as
the Indians disappeared Jim slapped his hands and said, "Didn't I tell
you the effect that bonnet would have on the Red Skins? And I don't
think we will have to shoot another Indian on this trip, for they will
not get close enough to us for us to get a show to hit them."
The second day from this camp we reached Truckey river, and it happened
to be Saturday, and Jim told the emigrants that this was the place where
he proposed to outdo Will in the way of a treat and told them that
everyone who could catch a grasshopper could have a mess of fish for
supper, as the river was swarming with the speckled beauties, and it
was really amusing to see the old of both sexes as well as the children
running in every direction, catching the little hopping insects.
Everyone seemed to be of one mind, what they were going to have for the
evening meal, for they were all on the margin of the river, and Jim and
I staid with the wagons and watched the crowd which was great amusement
for us, for they were all so excited. But our fun did not last long. In
a few minutes the crowd commenced to come back with their bands full of
fish; one woman passed us with two little girls. She had about a dozen
fish, and the children had their hands full too. She said, "Come, Mr.
Bridger, I want you and Mr. Drannan to eat supper with us tonight, and
after we get through I will tell you which treat is the best, Buffalo or
Mountain Trout."
Jim told her she hadn't got half enough fish for him, not reckoning the
members of her own family. She said, "Don't you be uneasy about not
having enough. My man will come back in a few minutes, and he will have
enough to make out the supper, I reckon."
We went with her to her tent and helped to clean the fish, and it was
not long before the appetizing meal was ready. While Jim and I were
cleaning the fish that the woman and children had caught, the man came
back, and he had fifteen of the handsomest trout I had ever seen on a
string. He greeted us with a laugh and said this was the first stream he
had ever seen where a man could take a long-handled shovel and pitch out
all the fish he had a mind to. "It is wonderful to think of the amount
of fish that has been taken out of that stream, and they would not be
missed if we wanted more."
Jim said, "If you could stay here and fish a week, they would be just
as thick when you got through as they are now, and will be until the
spawning season is over."
That night Jim suggested that we get up a party and go over on Truckee
Meadows and kill some Antelope tomorrow.
I said, "All right, Jim, that is the greatest feeding ground for
Antelope of any I have seen. I will go and speak to my scouts now, and
we may get a party so we can start early in the morning."
I hunted my men up and told them what Jim and I thought of doing, and
they were delighted with the idea. They said that every man in the
outfit that owned a horse and gun would be glad to go with us. I told
them to see everyone that they thought would like to or could go and for
them to meet us at the head of the corral right after breakfast in the
morning.
Next morning Jim and I went to the place agreed upon. We were mounted
and had our guns all ready for business, and in a few minutes there were
forty-three men all mounted and anxious to go with us on the hunt for
Antelope.
Jim told them that the hunting ground was eight or ten miles away from
camp, and he said, "I will guarantee that you will see a thousand
Antelope today. Now we will all travel together until we begin to see
the Antelope."
The place called Truckee Meadows was about twenty miles long and ten
miles wide and very level and covered with the tallest sage brush in all
the country around and with an abundance of fine grass. We crossed the
Truckee river just below where the city of Reno now stands, and then
we struck out south east, Jim and I taking the lead and the others
following us.
When we were about five miles from camp, I discovered a band of
Antelope. They were probably a half a mile from us, and they were
feeding in a northeasterly direction. I called Jim's attention to them
at once. After he got a good look at them, he said, "I will bet my old
hat that there is a thousand Antelope in that band."
We stopped our horses and waited for all the crowd to come up to us, and
Jim pointed to the Antelope, saying, "There is your game. Did you ever
see a prettier sight? Now my friends, I want every one of you to have an
Antelope across your saddle when we go back to camp. It don't make any
difference who kills it so we all have an Antelope."
Jim then turned to me and said, "Will, do you see that open ridge
yonder?" and he pointed to a low ridge about a mile from us right in the
direction towards which the Antelope were feeding. I told him, yes, I
saw it. He then said, "I will take all the men but you and two others,
and I will station them all along on that little ridge at the edge of
sage brush. Now, Will, you pick out your two men and ride clear around
the south end of the band, and when they start to run towards us, crowd
them as hard as you can, but give us time to locate before you start the
band."
My men and I rode probably a mile and a half before we got around the
herd, and it looked to us as if the whole valley was covered with
Antelope. I told the men not to shoot at first, but to give a whoop or
two to get them started and then to crowd them for all they were worth,
and when the Antelope got to the open ridge to shoot.
In a few minutes, after we started the herd of Antelope, we heard the
guns of Jim and his men, and it sounded as if they kept up a continual
fire. When we struck the opening, I told the boys to get all the
Antelope they could, and we had a plenty to choose from, for there were
hundreds in the herd ahead of us. I fired my rifle and knocked one down,
and then I pulled my pistol and got another. Just then I heard someone
shouting at the top of his voice just ahead of me. I looked to see who
it was and saw Jim Bridger, shaking his hat at me. I held up my horse so
I could hear what he said. He cried, "For pity's sake, Will, don't kill
any more Antelope, for we have more now than we can carry to camp."
I called my men to me, and we rode to where Jim and his men were waiting
for us. Jim said, "Will, I have been in the Antelope country twenty
years most of the time, and I never saw so many Antelope together at
one time as I saw here this morning; why, there must be fifty or
seventy-five laying around here at this minute, that we have shot, and
you would not miss them out of the herd."
One of the men said, "It did not need any skill with the rifle, that
hunt, for a blind man could not help hitting one of them, for as far as
I could see, there was a mass of Antelope."
Every man now went to work skinning and getting the meat ready to carry
to camp. My two companions and myself put two Antelopes on each of our
horses and started on ahead of the others, and although it was five
miles and we walked all the way, we got back to camp a few minutes
before they did.
As soon as they saw us, the women came to meet us and wanted to see what
we had on our horses. As I threw one of the Antelopes off the horse, a
middle aged woman said, "Mr. Drannan, can I have a piece of this one?
My little girls have just picked some wild onions, and I can make some
hash, and I want you and Mr. Bridger to come and take dinner with us
today."
I told her to help herself, that I brought the meat to camp for all of
them to eat as far as it would go. Her husband came at that moment with
a knife and skinned a portion of the Antelope and cut out what she
wanted. By this time the other hunters began coming in, and everyone was
getting fresh meat for their dinner, and by the way they acted I thought
they enjoyed the Antelope fully as well as they had the Buffalo.
While we ate dinner, I asked Jim how many Antelope were killed by the
whole party. He answered. "Why, dog gone it, I forgot to count them,
but I know this much. Pretty near all of the men brought two across his
saddle, and I will bet that it was the biggest Antelope hunt that was
ever in this country before. Why, Will, the Antelope came along so thick
at one time that a man could have killed them with rocks."
If the reader will stop to think a moment, I think he will be surprised
at the great change that has taken place in that country in fifty years.
At that time there was not a white family living within two hundred
miles of this place, and if there had been any one brave enough to tell
us that in a few years this would be a settled country, we would have
thought he was insane. And just think, this very spot where the wild
Antelope roamed in countless numbers fifty-five years ago is today
Nevada's most prosperous farming country and is worth from fifty to one
hundred dollars an acre, and the city of Reno, now a flourishing town of
several thousand inhabitants stands on the very spot where we camped and
had the Antelope hunt, and I have been told by reliable people that the
whole country from the city of Reno to Honey Lake is thickly settled,
and that cities and villages and thriving farms now cover the ground
where at the time I am speaking of there was nothing but wild animals,
and what was worse to contend with, wild savages lurking in the thick
sage brush which covered the ground for hundreds of miles, and I am also
told that the whole country around Honey Lake is a thriving farming
country, but at the time I am speaking of, we did not have an idea that
it would ever be settled up with Whites or used for anything but a
feeding ground for wild animals. If we had been told at that time that a
railroad would pass through the place where the city of Reno now stands,
we would have thought the one who told us such a wild, improbable story
to be a fit subject for a straight jacket.
We pulled out of there early Monday morning; we took the trail up Long
Valley towards Honey Lake, which we reached on the evening of the third
day. Nothing occurred to disturb us during this time. As soon as we went
into camp that evening the emigrants got out their fishing tackle and
went to the lake. Some of them caught some fish, but many of them came
back disappointed. None had the luck they'd had at Truckee river. Still,
the most of us had some fish for supper that night.
While we were at supper, Jim told the people that they were through
catching trout, that the next fish we had would be salmon. They said
they had never heard of that kind and asked what it looked like. Jim
told them that the meat of some kinds of salmon was as red as beef,
while another kind was pink, and still another kind was yellow, and
they were considered the finest fish that swim in the water, and he
continued, "I have seen them so thick in the spring in some of the
streams in California that it was difficult to ride my horse through
them without mashing them, and they ran against the horse's legs and
frightened him so that he was as eager to get away from them as they
were of him."
An old man presently asked how large a salmon usually was, to which Jim
answered, "Well, they run in weight from ten to fifty pounds, but I have
seldom seen one as small as ten pounds, and they are very fat when they
are going upstream to spawn, but when they are coming down they are so
poor they can scarcely swim."
We left Honey Lake in the morning, and the third day from there we
struck the Sacramento valley, and we now told the emigrants that they
had no further use for our services, that their road was perfectly safe
from this point to Sacramento city.
Two of the committee came to us and said, "As this is Saturday we will
camp here until Monday, and we want you two men to stay with us, for the
women want to fix up something for you to eat on your way back."
Jim answered that we would stay with them over Sunday and take a rest,
for we had a long and tiresome journey before us, but it must be
understood that we did not want the women to go to cooking for us, for
all we could take with us was a few loaves of bread, enough to last us
a few days. Our meat we could get as we wanted it, which would be our
principal food on the trip, as it always was when we were alone.
Sunday was a very pleasant, restful day to us. All the emigrants seemed
to vie with each other in being social. Among the company was a man and
wife by the name of Dent; these two came to us and said that they were
going to make their home in Sacramento city and were going into business
there, and they wanted us if we ever came there to come to them and
make their home ours as long as we wished to stay, for, said they, "We
appreciate what you have done for us on this journey we have passed
through. Besides the protection you have given us, the Buffalo and
Antelope meat you have shown us how to get and have helped to get has
been worth more money to us than all we have paid you to pilot us to
California.".
We thanked them for their kind offer and good opinion of us but
disclaimed having done anything but our duty by them.
Monday morning Jim and I were about the first to be astir. We caught
our horses and had them saddled by the time breakfast was ready, and we
accepted the first invitation offered us to eat. While we were eating,
our hostess said she had baked two loaves of bread for us to take with
us, and that she had roasted the last piece of Antelope that she had and
wanted us to take that too. We took the food this lady had prepared for
us and went to our horses, but before we reached them we saw the women
coming from every direction with bread and cake. Jim said, "Will, let's
fill this sack with bread and cake if they insist on giving it to us and
then get away as soon as possible."
As Jim made this remark, it was very amusing to see how every woman
tried to get her package in the sack first, but it would not begin to
hold half that was brought. As soon as the sack was full, Jim said, "Now
ladies, we can take no more, so be kind to us in letting us get away."
By the time we had our pack fixed on our pack horses' backs, every man
and woman and all the children were around us to bid us farewell and
good speed on our journey back to Taos, New Mexico.
We had shaken hands with probably a hundred or more when Jim sprang upon
his horse all at once, saying, "Now friends, we will consider we have
all shaken hands," and he took off his hat and, waving it to the
assembled crowd, gathered up his reins and galloped away, and I followed
suit. But as long as we were in hearing distance we could hear, "Good
bye, good bye," floating on the wind. As the sight of the train faded in
the distance, we waved our hats for the last time.
For the next two days everything went smoothly with Jim and me, which
brought us to Honey Lake. The night we reached Honey Lake, we camped in
a little grove of timber near a pearling stream of cool, sparkling water
about a half a mile south of the trail.
We had eaten our supper and were about to spread our blankets and turn
in for the night when we heard a dog bark close to our camp, but it
was too dark to see him. Jim said, "Don't that beat any thing you ever
heard?"
We listened a moment, and then it was a howl, and then in a moment he
barked again. Jim said, "You stay in camp, Will, and I will take my gun
and see what is the matter."
In a moment Jim called, "I see him." I waited about an hour before Jim
came back and was beginning to feel anxious about him. When I heard his
footsteps, he said, "I followed that dog nearly a mile, and then I found
the cause of his howling, and what do you think it was?" I answered,
"Jim, I have no idea," to which he said, "Well, I will tell you. I found
the body of a dead man laying on his blanket just as if he was laying
down to rest. I did not get near the dog until I had discovered the
body, and then he was very friendly with me, and came and whined, and
wagged his tail, as if he knew me. I looked all around, but I could find
nothing but the body laying on the blanket. I could not see that there
had been a fire, and I saw no signs of a horse or anything else, and the
strange part of it is that, although the dog was so friendly with me, I
could not coax him away from the body which I suppose was his master."
I asked Jim what he thought it was best to do. He answered, "What can we
do, Will? We have no tools to dig a grave with, and the body is laying
among the rocks, and I expect that dog will stay beside it and starve to
death."
"Wouldn't it be a good idea to go to the place in the morning and pile
rocks on the body to keep the wolves and other wild animals from
eating it up?" Jim said, "Yes, we will do that, and we will shoot some
jack-rabbits and leave them with the dog, so he can have something to
eat for a few days anyhow."
On the way over to the place where the body lay, we killed three rabbits
and threw them to the dog, and he ate them as if he was nearly starved,
and I have always thought that his master died of starvation, as he had
no gun or pistol with which to kill anything to eat, and Jim thought
that he must have got lost from some emigrant train and wandered around
until he was too weak to go farther and lay down and died with no one
but his faithful dog to watch over him in his last moments.
We covered him up with stones and brush the best we could and left him
and the poor dog together, although we tried every way we could to tempt
the animal away. The faithful dog would not leave his master's body.
After trying persuasion until we saw it was no use, Jim said, "Let's put
a rope around his neck and lead him off." I answered, "No, Jim, if he
will not be coaxed away, it would not be right to force him to leave his
dead master." Jim said, "It seems too bad to leave him to starve, but
you are right, Will," and so we left him, and we never saw him again.
Saddened with the experience of the morning, we mounted our horses and
struck for the trail. We had nothing more to disturb us for the next
three days. About the middle of the afternoon of the third day we were
riding along slowly, talking about where we should camp that night, when
Jim happened to look off to the south, and he saw a band of Indians
about a mile from us, and they were coming directly towards us, but we
could not tell whether they had seen us or not. Jim said, "Let's put
spurs to our horses and see if we can get away from them Red devils
without a fight with them."
We put our horses to a run and had kept them going this gate for five or
six miles when we came to the top of a little ridge, and in looking back
we saw the Indians about a half a mile in the rear and coming as fast as
their horses could carry them.
Jim said, "Will, we are in for it now, and we must find a place where we
can defend ourselves."
At that moment I saw a little bunch of timber a few hundred yards ahead
of us. I pointed to it and said to Jim, "Let's get in there and show
them our war bonnet and scalps, and maybe that will save us from having
a fight with the Red imps."
Jim laughed and said, "Why dog gone it, Will, I forgot all about your
war bonnet. Sure, that will be the very thing to do."
We had reached the timber while we talked. We now dismounted and tied
our horses, and in less time than one could think we had the war bonnet
and scalps dangling from the trees all around our horses. We had
scarcely got ready for them when the Red Skins were in sight. They raced
around us in a circle but did not come in gun shot of us. They went
through this performance a few times and then stopped and took a good
look at our decorations, and then they wheeled their horses and left in
the direction they had come from, and that was the last we saw of that
bunch of Indians.
We waited a few minutes to be sure that all was clear, and then we
mounted again and rode about two miles before we found water so we could
camp for the night. When we were eating our supper that night, Jim said,
"Will, I don't think you realize what a benefit those scalps and that
bonnet is to us; if I were you, I would never part with that bonnet as
long as you are in the Indian country. This being a Ute bonnet, the
Comanches will offer you all kinds of prices for it, but if I were you I
would not sell it at any price."
I answered, "Jim, I am going to keep that bonnet for two reasons. One
is for the protection of my own scalp and the other is to keep in
remembrance my last trip in company with you as a pilot across the
plains to California."
Jim looked at me a moment and then said, "Will, you don't pretend to say
that you will never take any more trips with me."
I answered, "Yes Jim, I mean what I say. This is my last trip as a pilot
for emigrants."
Jim did not answer for a few moments, and then he said, "Who will go
with me next year Willie? I thought the pilot business just suited you."
I answered, "In some respects I do like it, and in others I dislike it
very much. You know yourself how impossible it is to please everybody.
There are so many of the people who come from the east that don't think
there is any more danger of the Indians than there is of the Whites, and
you know Jim that is the class of people who will always get us into
trouble. See what those nineteen smart alecks did for us on this last
trip. Do you think if they had known any thing of Indian trickery they
would have left our protection to go hunting in the very heart of the
Indian country? And if we had not been firm with the rest of those
people the whole outfit would have been scalped and then we would have
had to bear the blame."
Jim answered, "There is more truth than poetry in all you say Will, but
maybe you will change your mind when spring comes."
We had a peaceful night's sleep and pulled out on the road bright and
early the next morning. We left the main trail and took a south east
course and crossed the extreme southern portion, of what is now the
state of Utah. We traveled hundreds of miles in this country without
seeing a human being.
A year ago I passed through this same country in a comfortable seat in
a railroad car, and it would be difficult for me to make the people of
this day understand the feelings that I experienced when in looking from
the car window I saw the changes that fifty-five years have made in what
was a wild, rough wilderness, inhabited by Buffaloes, Antelopes, Coyotes
and savage men.
We kept on through this section of country until we struck the Colorado
river, which we crossed just below the mouth of Green river, and a few
days' travel brought us into the northwest part of what is now New
Mexico.
The country which is now New Mexico was at the time of which I am
writing considered perfectly worthless. It is a rolling, hilly country
with smooth, level valleys between the hills and is proving to be very
fertile and is settling as fast as any part of the west.
There was nothing more to trouble us, and we made good progress on our
journey, and in ten days from the time we left the Colorado river we
reached Taos, New Mexico, which was the end of our journey, and tired
and worn with the long hours in the saddle and the anxiety of mind which
we had experienced in all the long months since we left there in the
spring, we were glad to get there and rest a few days and to feel that
we were free with no responsibility.
[Illustration: The mother bear ran to the dead cub and pawed it with her
foot.]