the other rider. As I reached the station, I could see him coming five
or six miles away. While we were watching him a band of Indians broke
out of the brush and began to chase him. He made a great race for his
life; but just before he reached the station, they shot and killed him.
We knew the Indians would attack the station next, so we hurried to the
barn and brought the three horses there to the house.
The station was a stone building about twelve by twenty feet in size,
with a shed roof covered with dirt, so that no timbers were sticking
out for the Indians to set on fire. There were portholes in each end of
the building, and one on each side of the door in front.
We succeeded in getting our horses into this house by the time the
Indians surrounded the station. They kept shooting at the back of
the house; for they soon learned not to come up in front of these
portholes. One or two of them that were foolish enough to do it got
killed. I know that one made a mistake by darkening my porthole. When
I saw the shadow, I pulled the trigger. Three days afterwards, when I
went out, I found an Indian lying there. He must have got in the way of
my bullet.
They kept us there for three days. It was lucky for us that the station
was built on low ground. The water had risen in the cellar under the
house. We had only one pan that the boys had used for mixing dough to
make their bread. This we had to use to water and feed the horses in
and for mixing bread also. The water in the cellar was not good, but
it kept us from choking to death those three days that we were held
prisoners.
The younger boy was not more than eleven years old, and the other one
was about fourteen. I was only a few years older. We put the little boy
to tending the horses and looking after things while we guarded the
house. Sometimes the little fellow would get to crying, and talking
about his mother dying and his father getting killed by the Indians.
The older boy was full of grit. He would try to comfort his little
brother.
The first night none of us slept at all, but the next day and the
following night I let them sleep a little by having one of them watch
while the other slept. The third night I went to sleep and left the
boys on guard.
Along towards morning, just as it was getting daylight, they came and
woke me up. There was a lot of shooting going on outside, and they
wanted to know what it meant. I listened, and the first thing I heard
was somebody saying, “Go to the house and see if the boy is all
right.” I looked through the hole and saw a lot of soldiers. Some of
Johnston’s army had been sent out to clear the trail of the murdering
Indians.
Another exciting experience happened to me when Mr. Kennedy, a horse
trader, was bringing a large band of mustangs along the trail from
California to Salt Lake to sell. He got belated out on the desert and
found it necessary to stop at Deep Creek, where he could winter his
horses out instead of feeding them. The Indians were so bad that we had
to send out guards with the horses in the daytime, and at night corral
them, and place a strong guard around them.
Our corral was made by digging a trench and setting in large cedar
posts on end. There was a straw stack in the middle of the corral where
the boys tried to sleep; but the Indians got so mean that they would
shoot arrows in the bed. This made it too dangerous to sleep there.
Sometimes we would spread our blankets on the straw as if we were in
bed, and in the morning find several arrows sticking through them.
A favorite way of guarding the corral was to take up a big picket, or
post on either side of the bars, and have a man stand in its place.
The Indians’ scheme was to get the bars down in some way, then stampede
the horses, and run them off. One night Peter Neece and I were standing
guard in this way. He was on one side of the bars and I was on the
other. We knew that there were Indians around by the way the horses in
the corral acted. I was standing on the south side of the bars looking
off into the sagebrush, for I believed the Indians would be coming from
that direction, because the horses were looking that way.
But one Indian, instead of coming straight up from the front, got
close up to the fence at the back and came creeping around close to the
corral to get to the bars. It happened that he was coming on my side,
but I did not see him. Neece did, but he could not warn me without
giving himself away.
He watched him crawling towards the bars, and just as he got about to
his feet, Neece fired. The Indian gave one unearthly yell that could
have been heard for miles, sprang in the air and settled down where I
had been standing, but I wasn’t there. When that yell was being let
out, I turned a back somersault and landed a rod or more inside of the
corral.
Sometimes at night when the horses were brought in, we would saddle one
for each of us and keep him saddled ready for use all night. In the
morning we would put the saddle on fresh horses to be prepared at any
minute to strike out after the Indians if it was necessary.
In the spring, when Mr. Kennedy was about to start with his horses for
Salt Lake, the herder was fired on one morning as he was driving the
band out to grass. The Indians then closed in behind the horses and
headed them towards the hills. Seven of us immediately started after
them. I was on a lazy, old blue horse, and could not keep up with the
other boys, but Mr. Kennedy rode a very good horse. He was way ahead
of the rest of us and was crowding the Indians pretty close. He would
have overtaken them in a few minutes more. Just before he caught up
with them, however, one Indian’s horse fell, carrying his rider down
with him. As Kennedy charged on the Indian to run over him, he received
an arrow in the arm; but the Indian got a bullet through the head in
return. Kennedy had to wait until we came up to pull the arrow out of
his arm.
By that time the Indians had the horses in a box canyon. A few of the
thieves hid among the rocks and held us back while the rest of the band
rushed the horses up the canyon. The canyon led south a few hundred
yards, then turned sharply around a large, steep mountain and ran
almost directly north. A short distance further the canyon turned again
and opened into a large meadow about a mile long.
[Illustration: A coyote, an animal often seen on the desert, along the
Pony Express trail. See Mark Twain’s description of the coyote, in
_Roughing It_.
_Finley and Bohlman_]
When we saw that we could not pass the Indians that were ambushing us
at the rocky entrance of the canyon, Kennedy thought it would be best
to go back two or three miles and cross a low divide to get into it at
the head of the meadow. There the canyon narrowed again. We might head
off the Indians if we got there first. We turned and went back about
two and a half miles to go over this divide. When we neared the top of
the divide there was a cliff too steep to take our horses over, so we
tied them to a clump of mountain mahogany, and went afoot. We could not
go very fast down the other side, for the white maple brush was very
thick.
Just before we got down to the head of the meadows, we stopped on the
side of the mountain near a very large flat-topped rock. Kennedy sat
there watching for the Indians to come out on to the meadows from the
canyon. The rest of us went down just below the rock and began to fill
our pockets with “yarb,” or Indian tobacco. While picking this “yarb,”
Frank Mathis laid his old muzzle-loading Springfield rifle down in the
bushes where he could easily reach it if necessary.
We had been there about half an hour when all at once Kennedy jumped
down among us and cried, “Boys, we’re surrounded!” In his excitement
Mathis grabbed his gun by the muzzle and gave it a jerk. The hammer
caught on a bush and the gun was discharged, shooting his left arm
off between the shoulder and elbow. That rattled us a good deal so we
hardly knew what to do next.
Kennedy thought it best for us to fight our way back to where our
horses were tied. He started Mathis up the hill ahead of the rest of
us. We were to keep the Indians back if we could. We knew they were
around us on every side for we could hear the brush cracking and see
it shaking every once in a while. When near the top, we came to a bare
stretch of ground about two rods across.
We stopped at the edge of the brush, for we knew that the Indians could
shoot us as soon as we got into the open. Kennedy thought we had better
make a break for it and scatter out as we ran so that they could not
hit us so easily. I had the shortest legs of all the men; but, just the
same, I wasn’t the last one over. When we were about half way across,
the Indians opened fire with their bows and guns. One bullet struck a
rock right under my feet. It helped me over the hill just that much
quicker.
By the time we reached the horses, Mathis was bleeding badly. He was
faint and begging for water. We had to lead our horses down to the
bottom of the mountain on account of the rocks. Kennedy sent Robert Orr
and me down to the creek to get water in our hats for Mathis. When we
got back with it, Kennedy sent me on to the station so I could be there
when the express came and be ready to take it on. That was the last I
ever saw of Frank Mathis. He was sent on to Salt Lake, where he was
cared for and got well, but he got into trouble later and was killed.
About the time the Indians were at their worst a small train of
emigrants came through on their way to California. They were warned by
all of the station agents that it was not safe for so few people to
travel through the country at that time, and were advised to stop until
more trains came up. They replied that they were well armed and could
stand off the Indians all right.
At that time I was riding from Shell Creek through Egan Canyon to Ruby
Valley. We who knew the Gosiute Indians could tell that they were going
to make a raid. They were making signals in the mountains with smokes
by day and fires by night to gather their band. We knew by their signs
that the emigrants would be attacked as they were going through some of
the bad canyons on the route. Egan Canyon was about the worst of these;
it was a narrow canyon nearly six miles long, with cliffs on each side
from three hundred to one thousand feet high, so that one could not
turn to the right or the left after entering it. This canyon was the
dread of all that had to go through it.
The train of emigrants had entered this canyon just ahead of me. I rode
very fast to catch up with them before they got to the worst part of
it, but just before I reached them, I heard the shooting and I knew the
Indians had made an attack. As I stopped to listen two men came running
for dear life. They were bare-headed.
“Go back!” they shouted as they came near, “The whole company has been
killed but us.” They passed me and ran on.
After a little while I could hear no more shooting, so I went on
cautiously, looking ahead and around at every turn of the road. Soon I
came in sight of the wagons. I made sure the Indians had gone before I
went up to them.
Such a terrible sight I never saw before. Every man, woman, and child
except the two that escaped had been cruelly murdered. Only one woman
had any life left when I got there and she died a moment later. I
looked around carefully to see whether any others were alive, but
finding none I rode on. I could not stand to look long on the dreadful
scene. The Indians had cut the tugs of the harnesses and taken every
horse and mule in the train. When I got out of the canyon, and saw
where the murderous band had turned off the road, I did not spare my
horse until I reached the next station. The keeper there immediately
sent a messenger to Ruby Valley where the soldiers were and they came
and buried the unfortunate emigrants.
[Illustration: “I told Johnson to have his shooting-irons ready.”]
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JOHNSTON PUNISHES THE INDIANS
The Indians became so troublesome that the soldiers from Camp Floyd
were called out to stop their dreadful work. I got a letter from Major
Egan directing me to meet him at Camp Floyd as soon as I could get
there, for they wanted me to act as interpreter and guide for the
soldiers. I started at once and made two hundred miles in three days.
When I reached Camp Floyd, General Albert Sidney Johnston was all ready
to start out against the Indians with four companies of soldiers. We
traveled west, and crossed the Great American Desert in the night, so
as not to be seen by the Indians.
The soldiers stayed at Fish Springs and sent me out with three other
scouts to see if we could find any signs of the Indians we were after.
We took only two days’ rations with us. The first day we met with no
success, so the next morning we separated. I sent two of the scouts to
circle around to the south, and took with me a young man by the name of
Johnson, and went northwest. That afternoon we saw two Indians crossing
a valley. We kept out of sight but followed them until night, and saw
them go into a small bunch of cedars. We left our horses and slipped up
as close to them as we could without letting them see us.
When we got pretty near to them, I recognized in one of the Indians my
old friend Yaiabi; but not feeling sure that he would be glad to see
me, I told Johnson to have his “shooting-irons”[5] ready and I would go
up to them and see what they would do. As soon as they saw me coming
they jumped up and drew their bows. I began to talk to them in their
language. Yaiabi did not recognize me at first, and demanded to know
what I was doing there. I told him I wanted water. He said there was no
water except a very little they had brought with them. They asked me
if I was alone. I told them that another young man was with me, then I
called to Johnson to come up.
[5] Revolvers or guns.
After Yaiabi found out who I was he felt better, for they were very
uneasy at first. When I asked him how he came to be there, he said they
had been out to a little lake to see some Parowan Indians that were
camped there. I asked him what the Indians were doing there. He said
they were waiting for some more of the Pocatello Indians to come, and
as soon as they arrived they were going to burn all the stations and
kill all of the riders and station keepers.
“Are you going with them?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why then have you been with those Indians?”
He said that the Parowan Indians had stolen his sister’s little boy two
years before, and he went out to see if he could find the child.
“Did you find it?”
“No,” he said, “they have sold it to the white folks.”
“Do you know when the Indians they are looking for will be there?”
“One sleep,”[6] he said.
[6] One night.
I knew it was a big day’s ride back to where the Indians were gathering
and I knew it was a hard day’s ride to the place where the soldiers
were camped. I did not know what was best for me to do. I had these two
Indians and I did not want to let them go, for I was afraid they would
skip back and let the others know that the soldiers were after them.
Here we were a big day’s ride to water, and our horses had had none
since early morning, so I decided that it would be better to take the
Indians to headquarters and let General Johnston decide what to do. I
told Yaiabi my plans. He said he did not want to go to the soldiers,
for he was afraid of them. I told him I would see that the soldiers did
him no harm. He said, “Yagaki, you have known me ever since you were a
little boy, and you never knew of my doing anything bad in your life.”
I told him I knew that he had always been a good Indian, “but now you
know that the soldiers are after those bad Indians and intend to kill
the last one of them, and if I let you go, you will go to them and tell
them that the soldiers are after them. Then if General Johnston should
find out what I had done he would think I stood in with the Indians and
would have me shot; so, you see, you must go with us to the soldiers’
camp.”
The Indian that was with Yaiabi said he would not go to the soldiers’
camp. He started to get his bow, but I had my pistol on him in a jiffy,
and told him to stop. He stopped, and I kept him there while Johnson
gathered up their bows and arrows. When I told them to get ready to
start, Yaiabi said they were tired and would like to stay there until
morning, but I said that our horses were so thirsty, we had better
travel in the cool of the night or we should not be able to get them to
camp, so we set out for Fish Springs.
I told Johnson to tie the bows and arrows to his saddle and to keep a
close watch over them; Yaiabi mounted my horse while I walked and led
the horse. When I got tired of walking, I changed places with Yaiabi,
and then young Johnson walked and let the other Indian ride his horse.
In this way we traveled until morning. When daylight came, I gave
the bows and arrows to young Johnson and told him to go to General
Johnston’s camp as soon as possible and send us fresh horses and some
water. In about six hours he came back to us, accompanied by two
soldiers with some water and two extra horses for the Indians to ride.
By traveling pretty fast, we reached camp at one o’clock that day.
General Johnston was very much pleased with me for bringing the two
Indians in. At the sight of so many soldiers the Indians were very
uneasy, but after they had been given something to eat and saw that
they were not going to be hurt, they felt much better.
The General talked with the Indians for about an hour, and I acted
as interpreter. Yaiabi told him just how the big camp of Indians was
located, and said there were about three hundred warriors there then;
they were looking for about fifty more to join them that night, and as
soon as they could complete their plans they were going to burn the
stations and kill all the white men they could find. He thought they
would be ready in about five days to begin their bloody work.
The General liked the way Yaiabi talked. He called him a good Indian,
and said he believed he was telling the truth. I told Yaiabi what the
general said. General Johnston told me to get a little rest, for he
wanted me to start out again that night if I would. I lay down and had
a little sleep, and when I got up he told me that I was to go to the
lake and see if Yaiabi had told the truth; and if everything was all
right, to send back word as soon as I could by one of the scouts that
he would send with me. He told me to do all my traveling at night and
keep under cover in the daytime, and to meet him as soon as I could at
a spring about half way between where we were and the Indians. Then on
the following night he would move his soldiers to another spring which
Yaiabi had told about, and which was within six miles of the lake where
the Indians were gathering.
[Illustration: Ruins of barracks at Camp Floyd, Utah; an army post
established by Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston; also a home station for
Pony Express and Overland Stage.
_Howard R. Driggs_]
After dark, three of us started with four days’ rations. I rode the
little pinto pony on this trip, the first I had ridden him for a long
time. We traveled all night and reached the first spring just at
daybreak. I knew it would be a hard night’s ride to go from here to the
lake and then reach Yaiabi’s spring in the mountains before daylight.
About midnight we arrived at the north end of the lake, which was only
a mile and a half long and half a mile wide. I had my two scouts stop
there while I wrapped a red blanket around me and went on foot to find
out what I could about the Indian camp. I had gone only a few steps
when I came to a band of horses, and as I was passing around them I
heard an Indian speak to a horse he was hobbling. I went up and asked
him in Shoshone if he had come with the Pocatello Indians. He said he
had, and that seventeen others came with him.
“We will start burning the stations, then, soon,” I said.
“Were you at the council tonight?” he asked. I told him I was not at
the council, that I had been following a horse that had started back.
He said that at the council it was decided that the Parowans were to go
to Ruby Valley and burn and kill everything they came to; and that the
Pocatello Indians and Gosiutes were to start at Ibapah and burn towards
the east. I asked him when we were to start from there. He said, “In
four days.” We were walking towards their camp as we talked, so as
soon as I found out all I wanted to know, I said that I had forgotten
my rope and would have to go back for it. So I parted company with my
Indian friend. He was a Shoshone, and he thought I was another. When I
got out of his sight, I wasn’t long getting back to where I had left
the boys, and in a very short time one of them was carrying the news to
the army.
The other scout and I went to find the spring Yaiabi had told me about.
We got well into the mountains before daylight, and when it was light
enough to see, we found the spring up a very rough canyon. We staked
our horses so they could get plenty to eat and then crawled off into
the willows for a good nap.
That afternoon I climbed a high mountain near by to see which would be
the best way to go from there to the Indians’ camp in the night. After
I had studied the lay of the country pretty well, I went back to the
horses, ate a little cold lunch, and when it commenced to get dark, we
struck out to meet General Johnston at the appointed place.
We did not travel very fast, for I knew we would reach the place before
the soldiers could get there. We were at the spring about two hours
before daylight, and had a good nap before General Johnston came. When
he got to us he wanted to know if I thought it safe to make a fire to
boil some coffee. I told him I thought there was no danger, so we made
a small fire, and had a good cup of coffee, then we all lay down for a
little nap.
About sundown, the packers began loading the hundred pack mules we had
with us, and we got started just about dark for the Yaiabi spring,
which was about six miles north of the Indians’ camp. We reached the
spring in good time, and were all unpacked before dawn.
After breakfast, General Johnston and I went up on to the mountain so
that he could see the Indian camp. He had a good pair of field glasses
and could see everything very plainly. He asked if I knew anything
about that bunch of willows he could see a little to the west of their
camp. I told him I knew it very well, for when the express first
started it came this way, and we had a station right where the Indian
camp is now, so I had been there many times. He said, “Then you can
take me to it in the night?” I told him I could, and pointed out to him
the way we would have to go. He told me he wanted to make the attack
the next morning at daybreak. We went back to camp, and found all the
soldiers asleep, except the guard; and in a very short time we were
rolled in our blankets and dreaming of the time when all the Indians
would be good Indians.
When I awoke that afternoon, I saw General Johnston and his staff going
up the mountain to where we had been that morning. They got back to
camp just before sundown, and held a hasty council with the remainder
of the officers; then orders were given to pack up, and we got in line
just at dark. I told General Johnston he would have to take his men
down this canyon in single file, and in some places we would have to
travel along the side of the mountain over very narrow trails; that
we would have to climb above high cliffs, and pass through some very
dangerous places. He said that I was to go ahead, and, when I came to
the bad places, to dismount and they would follow suit. We had about
two miles to go before we would come to the bad places, and when I got
off the next man would get off and so on down the line. By doing this,
we got down the canyon very well, except that three of our pack mules
rolled over a cliff and were killed.
The head of the company got out of the canyon about eleven o’clock that
night. We were within six or seven hundred yards of the Indian camp,
for the lake lay almost at the foot of the mountains. As the soldiers
came down they formed into lines, and General Johnston and I started to
find the bunch of willows we had seen from the top of the mountain. We
soon found it, and went back to the soldiers. The general said that was
all he wanted with me until after the fight, and told me to take care
of the two Indians we had with us. So I got Yaiabi and his friend, and
we climbed a small hill not far away, where we could see the fight when
it commenced.
The soldiers didn’t all get out of the canyon until about three o’clock
in the morning, and the pack train was not all out when daylight came.
In the meantime, General Johnston had strung the soldiers around the
Indian camp.