We left St. George to take the Moqui visitors home on the 18th of
March, 1863. The party consisted of six white men and our Moqui
friends. As I was leaving home, my Indian boy, Albert, met me, and I
remarked to him that the peach trees had begun to bloom, and it would
be warmer than it had been.
He replied, "Yes, and I shall bloom in another place before you get
back. I shall be on my mission!" (He doubtless referred by this to a
vision which he had of preaching to a multitude of his people.)
Said I, "What do you mean by that?"
He replied, "That I shall be dead and buried when you get back."
We again took the route leading south from St. George. When we went out
on this route the fall previous, we had expected to return the same
way, and had cached our boat and some supplies on the south side of the
river.
On arriving at the river we constructed a raft of dry timber, on which
two men crossed over to obtain the boat. It was in good condition, but
our supplies were ruined.
On the south side we looked around for a better crossing, as we had
been requested to do, and found one five miles higher up the river, and
also a good way of getting to and from the river. This is now called
Pierce's Ferry.
We were here overtaken by Mr. Lewis Greeley, a nephew of Horace
Greeley, of the New York _Tribune_. As he wished to accompany us,
Brother Snow sent a man with him to the river.
We took our former trail as far as Seep Springs, the last water before
crossing the three days' desert. The second and third days we found two
camps, which, judging from the remains of camp kettles, pack saddles,
etc., had doubtless been suddenly broken up, probably by the Apaches.
We thought they were the camps of miners.
At the last camp there were five animals with Spanish brands. The
Moquis desired to take them along, and, after some consultation, we
consented for them to do so.
At Seep Springs we found a small band of Piutes, who had run off a
party of Cohoneenes.
As we had intended to explore as much as practicable, after consulting
with these Piutes and our Moqui friends, we concluded to take a trail
to the left of our former route. This would take us down into Cataract
Canyon, which heads near the foot of the San Francisco Peaks.
We followed down a side canyon all day, leading our animals most of the
time, on account of the narrow and precipitous character of the trail.
At night we camped without water.
About 10 o'clock the next day we came in sight of the Main, or
Cataract Canyon. This was still far down in the earth below, and the
stream running along its bottom appeared like a bright silver thread
glittering in the sun.
In coming to this point we, at one time, traveled about three miles
continuously on a trail made with considerable labor in the side of
shale rock. I do not remember of a place in this distance where we
could have turned our animals around to return, had we wished to do so.
We afterwards learned that this part of the trail was considered by the
people who lived in the canyon, as their strongest point of defense in
that direction.
We traveled a very circuitous and still difficult trail, until four
o'clock in the afternoon, before we arrived at the water we had seen
six hours before. We found the stream to be about fifteen yards in
width, with an average depth of over a foot.
It was rapid and clear, and skirted with cottonwood timber, growing on
rich bottom land.
The bottom of Cataract Canyon, Lieut. Ives informs us, in his
"Explorations of the Colorado," is 2,775 feet below the general level
of the plateau above. We judged the sides of the canyon where we were,
to be one-half of this distance in perpendicular height.
The first people that we met had been informed of our approach by one
of our Moqui companions, whom we had sent ahead of us. While we were
talking with them, others arrived from lower down the stream, who
inquired rather sharply why we were there. They were soon satisfied
with out explanations.
We were soon engaged in interesting conversation. They had heard of
me and my travels, and appeared pleased to see me. They desired that
I would not lead anyone into their hiding place, and particularly a
stranger, without their consent.
They told us that the horses we had picked up belonged to the Walapies,
and if we would leave them they would return them to the owners before
we came back. We remained with this people one day. In going out we
traveled up the main canyon.
Not long previously these people had been attacked in their stronghold
by a band of Indians from the southeast. They showed us a narrow pass
where they had met them, and killed seven of their number.
About three miles above where we first struck the stream, it boils
from the bottom of the canyon in a large, beautiful spring. We found
no water above this. About nine miles up the canyon above the water,
we turned into a left-hand side canyon, through which it was about two
miles to the country above.
The trail up this canyon was very steep and difficult. The trail we
came in on, and this one, are said to be the only means of getting
in and out of the Cataract Canyon. From what we could learn from the
Indians, we supposed the distance from the spring to where the creek
empties into the Colorado to be about eighteen miles.
Through some misunderstanding, two of our Moqui friends had continued
up the main canyon. We made a dry camp that night. The Moqui man who
remained with us was a religious leader among his people. He became
very anxious about his companions, for he said they would find no
water. He went through some religious ceremonies for their safe return.
In the night they arrived in camp. They had discovered their mistake,
and returned until they found our trail. We had a little water left to
relieve their thirst.
I should have before stated that these Moquis never send out any of
their people in the public interest, without sending one of their
religious teachers with them. The position of these religious men is
probably a traditionary remnant of the pure priesthood held by their
fathers.
This man who was with us carried a small sack, in which were some
consecrated meal, wool, cotton and eagle's feathers. To this sack was
attached a stick, which he took out each morning, and, after looking at
the sun, made a mark upon, thus keeping a memorandum of the number of
days we had spent on the journey.
Our route was considerably to the north of the one we had traveled
when on our former trip. The day after leaving Cataract Canyon, about
4 o'clock in the afternoon, we came to a cross trail made by wild
animals. Following it a few hundred yards into the head of a canyon, we
found a pool of good water.
This was the 7th of April. We traveled two days without water for
our animals, and camped where we could see the water of the Little
Colorado, but it was in a deep gulch, out of our reach. The next day we
traveled thirteen miles up the river bank, and camped by the water.
The night of the 11th we were about twelve miles from a Moqui town. Our
Moqui companions wished to go home; and did so, while we camped until
morning.
They informed the three brethren who had remained in the Moqui towns
during the winter, of our approach, and the following morning these
brethren met us about two miles out. They rejoiced much in seeing us,
and hearing from their families and friends at home. We remained two
days with our Moqui friends.
Taking Brothers Haskell, Hatch and McConnell with us, on Tuesday, the
15th of April, we started for the San Francisco Mountain, which was
about ninety miles to the southwest. We aimed to strike the Beal road,
which runs on the south side of the mountain.
On the 20th of April we got into the foothills on the north side of the
mountain, where we found plenty of timber, grass, and snow for water.
Game was abundant, and we had no trouble to kill what we needed. The
same day Mr. Greeley discovered a pond of clear, cold water, several
acres in extent, in the crater of a volcanic peak.
Monday, the 21st of April, we spent in exploring in different
directions. We discovered a wagon road, which proved to be the one laid
out by Captain Beal. We had traveled around on the north side of the
mountain, and struck this road six miles west of Lareox Spring.
On the 22nd we killed two antelopes, and dried the meat, preparatory
for starting home.
On the 24th we started for home. We traveled west on the Beal road
until the 28th, when we left it and traveled across the desert where
Lieut. Ives and party suffered from thirst.
We directed our course for Seep Springs, spoken of in the account of
our outward trip, as our last camp before going into Cataract Canyon.
I was fifty-six hours without any water. Brother Jehiel McConnell was
so far gone that he could only whisper. Both men and animals suffered
severely. From Seep Springs we directed our course for the crossing of
the Colorado, south of St. George.
The third day from Seep Springs we traveled into the night, and got off
our trail. We tied up some of our animals and hobbled others, to wait
for daylight.
During the night, what we at first supposed to be the hooting of
an owl, attracted our attention. After listening a little while we
concluded that the hooting was counterfeit; that Indians were around us
and we had better look after our animals.
I followed a trail a few hundred yards by moonlight, and discovered the
tracks of two Indians. Suffice it to say, we lost ten animals out of
eighteen.
Assisted by some Piutes, we made an effort the next day to recover
them, but failing, on the 6th of May we continued our journey. Five of
our animals we packed, which left but three to ride. As there were ten
men in the company, we traveled mostly on foot.
We afterwards learned that the Cataract Canyon Indians had not returned
the Walapies' horses as they had agreed to, and the Walapies made that
an excuse for stealing ours.
When we arrived at the river our feet were badly blistered. We had
learned to appreciate the value of the animals we had lost.
Between the ferry and St. George, one day, in the Grand Wash, our
animals becoming dry, a mule smelt of the ground and pawed. We
concluded that it smelt water under the ground. We dug down about three
feet, and found plenty. There has been water there ever since, and it
is called White Spring.
We arrived in St. George on the 13th of May, 1863. We had been absent
fifty-six days. We had explored a practicable, though difficult route,
for a wagon from St. George to the Little Colorado, had visited the
Moqui towns, and explored some of the country around the San Francisco
Mountain.
I found on my return home that my Indian boy, Albert, was dead and
buried, as he had predicted he would be when I left home.
I supposed his age to be about ten years when he came to live with me;
he had been with me twelve years, making him twenty-two years old when
he died. For a number of years he had charge of my sheep, horses and
cattle, and they had increased and prospered in his hands.
Some time before his death he had a vision, in which he saw himself
preaching the gospel to a multitude of his people. He believed that
this vision would be realized in the world of spirits. He referred to
this when he said that he should die before my return home, and be on
his mission.
He was a faithful Latter-day Saint; believed he had a great work to do
among his people; had many dreams and visions, and had received his
blessings in the house of the Lord.