I do not remember how many days it took us to reach Dallas, but it was
in the middle of October when we rode into that city.
This was in the fall of fifty-eight, and the news had just reached
Dallas that gold had been discovered on Cherry creek in the territory
of Colorado, and the excitement was intense. All over the city people
talked of nothing else but gold, and of all the exaggeration stories
about gold mines that I had ever heard, the ones told there were the
most incredible. The parties who brought the news to Dallas had not been
to the mines themselves, but had been told these wonderful stories at
Bent's Fort.
Capt. McKee caught the gold fever right away, and he said to me, "I am
going to get up a company in the spring and go to those new gold mines.
Don't you want to go with me?"
I answered, "No, Capt. I do not, for I know that Cherry creek country,
and I do not believe that there is a pound of gold in all that country.
It is nothing but a desert."
He said, "Have you been to Cherry creek?"
I answered, "Yes sir, a number of times."
"Where is Cherry creek?" he asked. I told him that Cherry creek headed
in the divide between the Arkansas river and the South Platte river, and
emptied into the South Platte river about twenty miles below where the
Platte leaves the Rocky mountains and near the center of the territory
of Colorado. Capt. McKee said, "Well, I am going anyhow. I did not go to
California when I ought to have gone, and maybe this will prove as rich
a country for getting gold as that did."
I laughed and answered, "There may be lots of gold in Colorado, Capt.,
but you or anyone else will never find enough gold in Cherry creek to
make you rich."
He said, "Well, the way to find it is to go there and look for it. We
surely never will if we stay away."
From the way the people talked, one would have thought that everybody in
Dallas was going to the gold fields.
After it was known that I had been through the country where the gold
mines were reported to be, a great many men came to me to make inquiries
about the country, and some of them seemed surprised because I took the
news so coolly and did not seem anxious to go there.
The excitement did not last more than a week before it commenced to die
away.
By this time we had about disposed of our horses, and the wounded men
were able to go to their homes.
The Capt. settled up with the men, and he and I divided the remainder of
the money.
After we were square, the Capt. asked what I was going to do. I told him
that I was going back to Bent's Fort. He said, "Well, won't you wait a
few days until I can organize a company to go with me to Colorado, and
we will go with you as far as Bent's Fort?"
I said I certainly would, for the journey would be very lonely for me
to go alone, and I liked company, and besides I was in no hurry to get
there.
The Capt. worked steadily to get recruits for his company for two weeks,
and he succeeded in getting ten men in all that time.
He said, "This beats anything I ever undertook. When we first came to
Dallas, the whole town talked as if they were crazy to go, and now I
can't get anybody to join me, but I will make the effort with the ten
men that will go, and if this is a success and we make fortunes, we will
come back and surprise the city."
I said, "Alright, Capt., but if the people of Dallas are ever surprised,
it will not be from hearing of the great amount of gold you and your
companions took from Cherry creek."
The Capt. now commenced to get ready for the journey to Colorado, the
land of reported gold. Each of his men had to have two saddle horses,
and one pack horse for every two men, and each man had three months
provisions, consisting of flour, coffee, salt and tobacco.
The question of getting meat was never thought of as one could get a
plenty of that anywhere on the journey, and the streams were teaming
with the most delicious fish.
The evening before we were to set out in the morning the Capt said,
"Which way shall we go?"
I said, "Although it is getting late, and we may have some cold weather
to contend with I think our best and most direct route will be by what
is called the Panhandle route. There will be no rivers to cross, and
there is a plenty of grass for the horses, and also there is nice
drinking water in abundance all the way for ourselves as well as the
hordes, and there will be days when we will be in sight of Deer and
Antelope from morning until night."
There were a few scattering settlements along the trail. The place
which is now the city of Childress being the largest, and also the last
settlement we passed through, and the last sign of civilization we saw
until we struck Bent's Fort which was on the Arkansas river below what
is now the city of Pueblo in the state of Colorado which was at that
time a territory just a little north of what is now the city of
Amarillo.
We killed our first Buffalo on that trip.
It is surprising to the people who saw that country at that early day
when they travel through it now and see what civilization has done.
There is Amarillo, which has several thousand inhabitants today, and
at the time I am speaking of there was not a house or sign of a living
person there, and a number of other places I could mention that are
thriving cities now were at that time inhabited by wild animals alone.
In the year of forty-eight when Kit Carson and I went across the Rocky
mountains with Col. Freemont, we camped three days where the city of
Pueblo, Colorado, now stands.
Our camp was under a very large pine tree, one of the largest in that
country.
Five years ago I visited the city of Pueblo again, the first time I had
been there since that time.
I imagined I could go right to the spot where our camp was located, and
the morning after I arrived there I took a walk on the main business
street, which I thought was about where our camp had stood. But search
as long as I might, there was nothing to show me a sign of the old
landmarks.
I went to the river, thinking that must look the same, but no, even the
channel of that had been changed.
Amazed at the change civilization had wrought in obliterating everything
that I had thought would be a guide to the old places I sought, I spoke
to a police officer and asked him if be could tell me whether a very
large tree had stood in that neighborhood or not before that street was
laid out.
He answered, "Yes, that tree stood right under that brick building," and
he pointed to a large building near where we stood, and he continued.
"As long as the tree stood there, it was called 'Freemont's camping
ground.'"
That particular spot is no exception, for every place I have visited in
late years all through the western country has met with the same change,
and the places that I was familiar with in my youth are strange to me
now.
The place that is now called the city of Denver I will take for an
example. At the time I am speaking of, the year of forty-eight, and for
several years later, it was one of the greatest Antelope countries in
all the west, and I think I am safe in saying that there were not fifty
white men in all what is now called the state of Colorado.
I visited several cities in that state a year ago, and it would be
difficult for the people of this time to understand the feeling of
surprise that I experienced when I saw what civilization had done to
every place I visited.
On the Platte river in the eastern part of the city of Denver where the
large machine shops now stand is the spot where the largest bands of
Antelope were to be found, and it was there that we used to go to get
them every morning as they came down to the river to drink.
From the site where Amarillo is now we had all the Buffalo meat we
wanted, and when we struck what is now the city of Trinidad, Colorado,
we followed the stream known as and called the "Picket Wire," down to
the Arkansas river, and as we were in the heart of the Buffalo country,
we were not out of the sight of herds of Buffalo all the way down to
that river.
It would be an impossibility to make this generation understand the
numbers of herds that roamed the western country. While the Buffalo was
the most numerous game of the plains, they were the most strange in
their habits. They made the round trip from Texas to the head of the
Missouri river in Dakota and back again every year. As soon as they
reached one end of their journey, they invariably turned around and
began their journey back. Another peculiarity of this animal was that
the calves never followed their mother, but always preceded her, and in
case of fright, or when she thought them in danger when the herd started
on the run, if the calves could not keep up with the others the mother
would push her calf forward with her nose.
I think I have seen a mother Buffalo throw her calf at least ten feet in
one push, and it would always alight on its feet and not break its run.
When we reached Bent's Fort, Capt. McKee asked Col. Bent how the gold
mines were on Cherry creek. The Col. laughed and said, he had not heard
from them in about three months, and the last news he had from there
were that Cherry creek was deserted, so by that he thought the amount of
gold there must be rather limited, and then Capt. McKee told him that he
had fitted up a company and had come all the way from Texas to dig gold
from Cherry creek.
Col. Bent said, "Well, Capt., there has been another discovery made on
what is called Russel's gulch which is a tributary of Clear creek, and I
have no doubt but there is gold to be found there."
Capt. McKee asked where Clear creek was.
Col. Bent said, "Ask Will. He can tell you better than I can, for he has
trapped all over that country."
I told the Capt. that Clear creek was about ten miles north of Cherry
creek on the north side of Platte river and I said, "Capt., if Russel's
gulch is up on the head of Clear creek, you could not get there this
winter with horses, for at this time in the year the snow is from two to
ten feet deep, and it is the coldest country you ever struck, and your
Texas boys and yourself too would freeze to death before you got half
way to the mines."
The Capt. asked Col. Bent if he had any idea how many miners there were
up in the Russel's gulch mines.
He answered, "Yes, I saw them when they started on their prospecting
trip, and there are six of them. There were seven, but one came back and
went back to his home in Georgia.
"Green Russel was the leader, and the mine was given his name. I expect
there will be a great stampede from the east especially from Georgia
next spring, for the gold excitement always spreads like fire in dry
grass."
Capt. McKee said, "Well, I believe I will go there anyway and see what
there is in it. I can live there as cheaply as I can anywhere. There is
plenty of game there, is there not?" he said, turning to me.
I said, "Yes, there is plenty of game all around the Platte river and
Cherry creek, but if you go there, I advise you not to go further than
the mouth of Cherry creek this winter. There is a grove of timber there
that you can make your camp in, and you could put up a shack to protect
you from the weather."
The Capt. and his company pulled out the second day after this talk, but
it was very plain to be seen that the whole company was much discouraged
in regard to the gold mines.
As they were leaving the Fort, I said to Capt. McKee, "When you come
back in the spring, Capt., I hope I shall hear you tell about the grand
success you have had in panning gold on Cherry creek this winter."
He said, "If there is any gold to be found in that country, I shall find
it. That is what I came out here to do."
As soon as the mining company had gone, Col. Bent said to me, "Will, do
you want to go and trade with the Indians for me now, or have you caught
the gold fever too?"
I answered, "Col. I have not had the gold fever as yet, and I do not
think there is any danger of my catching it, so I am ready to go to work
for you trading with the Indians."
Col. Bent laughed and said, "If you haven't got the fever now, Will, I
will bet your best hors, that you will catch it bad when the rush for
the mines comes in the spring."
At that time I had no idea there would be any rush for the gold mines,
for I thought the excitement would die out before spring, because so
many had been disappointed in the fall, but in this I was mistaken, for
by the first of May they commenced to come to the Fort on their way to
the mines, and by the first of June one could see the trains stringing
along for miles, and what was very amusing to me, when I asked them
where they were going, they invariably answered, "Pike's Peak."
I remember one train that I met that spring down on the Arkansas river,
below Bent's Fort. One of the men asked me, if I could tell them how far
it was from there to Pike's Peak. I said, "No sir, I can't tell you how
far it is, but I can show it to you. There is Pike's Peak right before
you," and I pointed to the snowcapped mountain that could be seen for
hundreds of miles.
He said, "Oh, I don't mean that. I want to find out where the Pike's
Peak gold mine is."
I told him that I had never heard of such a mine. This seemed to
surprise him, and in a few minutes the whole outfit was crowding around
me, inquiring about Pike's Peak mine.
Then I told them what the report had been about the discovery of gold at
Cherry creek and Russel's gulch.
One man asked if I could tell them where Denver was, and that was a
question I could not answer, for I had never heard of a place called
Denver before.
I asked him what Denver was. A new mining camp that had just been named,
or what.
"Why" he said, "Denver is a city close to Pike's Peak."
I answered, "Strange, you must have made a mistake in the locality of
the city you are seeking. I have traveled all over this country for
years, and I never saw or heard of a place called Denver in my life."
Then they told me that Dr. Russel, one of the discoverers of the gold
mine, had staid all night at the town where they came from in Missouri.
When he, the Dr., was on his way home to Georgia, last fall he had told
them what wonderful gold mines had been discovered up in the mountains,
and there was a large city building in the valley that was going to be
the queen city of the west, and they had named the city "Denver."
I was young then, and of course my experience was limited, so I believed
the story that the man told, not stopping to think that it might be
exaggerated, as an older person might have done.
I was going down the Arkansas river on my last trading trip with the
Indians for that season, and the story of the wonderful gold mines made
me anxious to get back to Bent's Fort. I had very good success in this
trade, and in two weeks I was back to the fort with my pack horses
loaded down with Buffalo robes.
After I had settled with the Col., I said, "I reckon you would have won
the wager if we had made the bet last fall, Col., for I am afraid I have
a touch of the gold fever."
Col. Bent laughed and said, "I thought you would not escape, Will, but
you are not the only one affected. I have news for you. Kit Carson and
Jim Bridger will be here in a few days from Taos, on their way to the
gold mines, and so you are just in time to go with them."
I then told Col. Bent the story the gold seekers had told me when I was
on my way to trade with the Indians this last time.
He said, "You must not believe all the stories that are floating about,
Will. If you do, you will only be disappointed, for in a time when
people are excited, as they are now over the finding of gold, there will
be all kinds of exaggerated stories told. Some of them will be told in
good faith, and some will be to merely mislead too credulous people. So
take my advice, Will, and keep cool and don't get rattled."
The next day, after I had the talk with Col. Bent, Uncle Kit and Jim
Bridger stopped at the Fort on their way to the new gold field. Of
course, Uncle Kit was as glad to see me as I was to see him, and was
rather surprised when I told him that I was all ready to go with him to
the mines.
Jim Bridger said, "What are you going there for, Will?"
I said, "I am going to help you pick up gold. I haven't any use for it
myself, but I just want to help you, Jim."
Uncle Kit said, "I guess, what gold we pick up won't hurt any of us."
The morning after this we three pulled out, and on the fourth day out we
landed on the ground where the city of Denver now stands.
It was the first of June in the year of fifty-nine, and as near as I can
remember, there were six little log shacks scattered around the west
side of Cherry creek, which at that time was called "Arora," and the
east side of the creek was called "Denver," and this was the Queen city
of the west that I had been told about and had come to see, and it was
amazing to see the number of people that were coming in there every day.
They came in all shapes. They came in wagons, in hand carts and on horse
back.
The hand carts had from four to six men to pull them, and I saw a few
that had eight men pulling one cart.
Uncle Kit, Bridger and I remained there four days, just to see the
crowds that were coming in. We found out the way to Russel's gulch, and
we decided to go up there.
We went by the way that is called "Golden" now, but of course there was
no such place then, that being the general camping place before going up
into the mountains.
When we made our camp on the bank of Clear creek, where the city of
Golden now stands, I think we could have counted two hundred wagons in
sight of our camp. Close to us there were four men in camp, and they had
one wagon and two yoke of cattle between them.
The next morning they were up earlier than we were and were eating their
breakfast when we crawled out of our blankets.
As soon as they finished eating, they hooked up their ox teams and drove
down to the creek and stopped at the bank and commenced to throw their
provisions into the water. As soon as Uncle Kit saw the men doing this,
he said, "What do they mean? Are they crazy? I will go and see what is
the matter."
As soon as he got in speaking distance, he asked them what they were
throwing their provisions to the creek for.
One of the men stopped and answered, "We are going back to Missouri, and
our oxen's feet are so tender that they can hardly walk, let alone pull
this load."
Uncle Kit said, "Why don't you throw the stuff on the ground? If you
don't want it yourselves, do not waste it by throwing it in the creek.
Someone else may want it."
One of them said, "I had not thought of that," and they threw the flour
and bacon and coffee and other small packages of food on the ground.
There must have been as much as twelve hundred pounds of provisions
laying on the ground when they got through, and I saw the contents of
two other wagons share the same fate that same day. How long that stuff
lay there I do not know. We left there the next morning, and I noticed
that it had not been touched.
I never saw so many discouraged-looking people at one time as I saw in
those wagons that were camped around Clear creek. I visited a number
of camps where six or eight men would be sitting around a little fire
talking about their disappointment in not finding gold to take home to
their families, and some of them were crying like children as they said
the expense of fitting out their teams and themselves had ruined them
financially.
This spot on Clear creek seemed to be the turntable for the
gold-seekers. They either went up the mountain to the mines or became
discouraged and turned around and went home, and I do not believe that
one out of ten ever left the creek to go up the mountain.
The way from Clear creek to the mines at Russel's gulch was through
the mountains, with nothing but a trail to travel on and the roughest
country to try to take wagons over I ever saw.
I do not know how many miles it was, but I do remember that we had a
hard day's ride from Clear creek to Russel's gulch, and we did not ride
a half a mile without seeing more or less wagons that had been left
beside the trail, and in many of the broken wagons the outfit that the
owner had started with was in the wagon.
[Illustration: I bent over him and spoke to him, but he did not answer.]