saloonkeeper came on to be heard, and I was acting as prosecuting
attorney. Of course, I had to prove that the prisoner had introduced
liquor into the Indian country, and, to do so, I called a French
half-breed who I knew frequented the place, and after the preliminary
questions, this examination followed:
"Q. Joe, were you ever in this saloon?
"A. Yes, many a time.
"Q. Did you ever buy and drink any liquor in there?
"A. Yes, many a time.
"Q. Did you see anyone else buy and drink liquor in there?
"A. Yes, many a time.
"Q. Who was it?
"A. I have seen you do it lots of times."
Of course, the laugh was heavily against me, but I sat, as stoical as an
Indian, and quietly asked him: "Anyone else, Joe?"
I have forgotten whether the suit terminated in conviction or acquittal,
but I never think of it without a good laugh at the way the witness
turned the tables on me, and am also reminded of what my old friend, Van
Lowry, from the Winnebago country, once said of me: "That Flandrau is
one of the most singular men I ever knew. He invariably makes a
temperance speech over his whisky."
The gold pen with the jewelled head reposes among my frontier treasures,
carefully wrapped up in several editorials cut from eastern papers,
extolling my virtues as an apostle of temperance.
Moral: Don't believe everything you read in the papers.
WIN-NE-MUC-CA'S GOLD MINE.
Every one who has lived in a mining country in its early periods, before
its resources had been prospected and pretty well defined, will recall
the fact that stories and rumors of a mysterious mine of great richness,
which exists somewhere, are always in circulation. The discoverer of
this mine is either dead, without having revealed its exact location, or
it is known only to the Indians, who are compelled to secrecy by awful
oaths, or fear of death from their chief or members of their band. At
any rate, there is always a profound mystery connected with the hidden
treasure, that envelops it with a tinge of romance and a spice of danger
to those who seek to break the spell and lift the veil. There is also
just enough known about it, which has leaked out through some obscure
channel, to lend some slight probability to the story, and many have
been the attempts to discover the bonanza by credulous and adventurous
miners, but ever without success.
When I was living in Nevada, in 1864, I became closely associated with
an old Mormon by the name of Rose. He had been a settler in the Washoe
valley long before the discovery of the rich silver mines at Virginia
City, known as the Comstock lode, and necessarily at a time when no one
inhabited the country but Mormons and Indians. The principal tribe of
Indians were the Piutes, whose head chief was Win-ne-muc-ca. These
Indians inhabited the country around Pyramid lake, about a hundred miles
to the northeast of Carson City, where I resided. Rose was known to have
been an intimate friend of Win-ne-muc-ca in times past, and to have
performed some important service for him, which had placed the chief
under lasting obligations to him, and rumor said that in compensation he
had disclosed to Rose the whereabouts of the most valuable gold mine on
all the Pacific Coast, and that Rose was the only white man who knew
anything about it. The truth of these rumors was fortified by the
existence of three old and abandoned arrastras and a twenty-five foot
overshot waterwheel, which had evidently been erected to drive the
arrastras, that stood on one of the back streets of Carson City, and
were known to have been constructed by Rose, and as there was no stream
in the neighborhood to propel the arrastras, it was generally believed
that, when Rose built these works, he had a mine, the ore of which was
so rich that he could bring it on pack animals, crush it with these
machines, and divert a stream to propel them. As quite a large sum had
been expended on these works, it was evident that they were intended to
carry out some such purpose, which had been interrupted for sufficient
reasons. At any rate, I caught the mine fever, and after many
conferences with Rose, I and my associates, William S. Chapman and Judge
Atwater, got far enough into his confidence to obtain an admission from
him that he knew the exact location of the mysterious mine, the secret
of which he had learned from Win-ne-muc-ca, and dare not disclose
without the consent of that chieftain, but he assured us that it was
fabulously rich. It was then learned that the mine was within the limits
of the Piute reservation, and even if we had the consent of the Indians
to work it, we would not be allowed to do so by the United States
government. Here were presented two formidable obstacles, but we were so
well satisfied that we had a fortune within call that we determined to
remove them both.
Our first operations were upon Win-ne-muc-ca, whom we proposed to
conquer by presents and flattery, and succeeded to the extent of
eliciting from him a promise that, if we could obtain permission from
the United States government to enter upon the reservation and work the
mine, he would disclose its whereabouts. All I can say about this branch
of the case is, that with a great deal of delicate and masterly
diplomacy, in which the interests of the Indians formed the principal
argument used, we secured the desired permission, and prepared for an
expedition to the mine.
It is as well here to say, for the benefit of the uninitiated, that all
such operations are conducted with the greatest secrecy and mystery,
because should it be discovered that any such enterprise was on foot its
projectors would be watched day and night, and followed to their
destination by half the community.
The government sent out a representative to see that the interests of
the Indians were properly protected, and we got ready to start. The
agent of the government was also charged to look up and report upon the
progress of a mill for the Piutes, for which large appropriations had
been made, and which was supposed to be situated on the rapids of the
Truckey river, which is the outlet of Lake Tahoe, and runs about
northeast in the direction of the Piute reservation, along the course to
be followed by us. I mention this fact only in order to bring into the
story the terse and witty report of the agent, said to have been made
about his discoveries regarding the mill. He said: "He found a dam by a
mill site, but he didn't find any mill by a damn sight."
Our outfit consisted of a light farm wagon with a four mule team, which
we procured from two Mormon brothers, who lived in the Washoe valley,
and were skilled guides all over Nevada, both of whom we took along as
guides, cooks, and to drive and care for the team. Rose took along a
pony, which we led, and the government agent, old Rose and myself formed
the passenger list. We were supplied with eatables and drinkables for a
long campaign, but as it rains but once a year in that country, we never
encumbered ourselves on a march with tents, except in the rainy season.
In fact, the ground between the sage bushes and grease-wood trees is so
dry and clean that you don't need even blankets or robes to sleep on,
but they are usually carried.
Our course lay down the valley of the Truckey river to its big bend,
where Rose was to leave us and go to Pyramid lake for Win-ne-muc-ca. We
accomplished this part of the journey, a distance of about one hundred
miles, in three days, without any special incident, except on one
occasion, when we were rounding a projecting point in the river, on a
ledge of rocks, some driftwood got entangled with the legs of our
leading mules, and came very near dumping us all into the boiling and
rushing current, which would inevitably have drowned the whole party;
but we reached our destination safely. At the big bend, which is now one
of the principal stations on the Central Pacific Railroad, we found a
spacious piece of bottom land, well supplied with grass for our animals,
and a clump of six tall stately cottonwood trees, presenting an inviting
place to camp, which we accepted as our resting place.
The next morning Rose mounted his pony and started for the lake, saying
he would return in a couple of days with the chief, who would guide us
to the mine--and fortune. The government agent was an old friend of
mine, a California forty-niner, and a most companionable fellow. The
Mormons were excellent cooks, and most efficient camp men. We had
abundant camp supplies, supplemented with fine fish brought to us by the
Indians, so we settled down for a delightful rest. Every night the men
would make a cheerful crackling fire of dry driftwood from the river,
hobble the mules, and fall asleep for the night, leaving us to enjoy the
soft summer air and brilliant moonlight, while discussing our future
plans when possessed of the boundless wealth that only awaited the
coming of Rose and the chief. Before retiring for the night, which only
meant lying down on a blanket, we usually reclined each against a tree,
with a demijohn between us, and by the time sleep overcame us the
fortunes of Croesus, Astor and Vanderbilt combined were mere trifles
compared with our anticipated wealth, for were we not to be soon endowed
with the magic touch of Midas!
We revelled in our repose, seasoned with the exaltation of hope and the
demijohn, until about four days had glided away, when even such delights
began to pall, and became a little monotonous, and still no Rose and no
Win-ne-muc-ca. The fifth, and even the sixth day passed, and yet they
came not, and we were driven to the conclusion that either Rose had been
victimized by the Piutes, or we had been victimized by Rose. So nothing
was left for us but to pull up stakes and wend our weary way back to
Carson. Here we found Rose, with the excuse that Win-ne-muc-ca had told
him that he dared not give up the secret of the mine for fear his band
would kill both Rose and himself, and that he had not dared to return to
the camp for fear the Indians would follow him and destroy us all. And
so ended our venture.
We came out of the enterprise wiser and poorer men, to the amount of
about one thousand dollars. As we had left town at midnight, and
returned at the same quiet hour, we were able to keep our adventure to
ourselves, and escape the ridicule of more experienced miners, many of
whom, however, had passed through similar experiences under varying
circumstances.
I have never been able fully to satisfy myself whether Rose acted in
good faith or not, but as he had no hope of gain outside of the mine I
am inclined to believe his story.
My next mining experience resulted much the same way. Rich finds were
reported in the Walker river country, and a small syndicate of us
outfitted a party of old and experienced miners to visit the locality
and see what they could pick up. They started in the usual mysterious
manner, at the dead of night, and in about two weeks returned, and
brought to my office a gunny bag full of ore, which they left, and we
appointed a meeting the next night at one o'clock, when the town was
supposed to be asleep, to examine the bag and pass upon the contents.
One of the prospectors tapped the sack affectionately, and, winking at
me in the most significant manner, said: "Judge, we've got the world by
the tail. It's all pure silver, and there are a million tons of it lying
on the top of the ground." Of course, my curiosity and expectations were
aroused to the highest pitch, and I awaited the appointed hour with
impatience. Before the party arrived, all the windows were darkened with
sheets and blankets, refreshments were prepared, and they dropped in one
at a time to avoid notice. The bag was opened and its contents displayed
upon the table. It was a pure white and brilliant metal, about the
weight of silver, and with the assistance of the refreshments we had
convinced ourselves before daylight that it was all pure silver.
I took a chunk of it about the size of an orange, and, with one of the
miners, went down to the Mexican mill, to have it assayed. The assayer
took it, looked it over, and asked if we wanted it assayed for iron. My
companion immediately answered, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars there's
no iron in it." The assayer replied: "We don't bet on such things, but I
will soon tell you all about it," and, after putting it to the test, he
reported: "Magnetic iron, ninety-five per cent; no trace of gold or
silver."
We let the world's tail go, put our own between our legs, and went home,
two of the worst disappointed men in all Nevada, and that was the last
of my mining efforts.
A UNIQUE POLITICAL CAREER.
Gen. James Shields had a most extraordinary career. I remember no man in
the history of our country who equals him in the diversity and extent of
his public services and office-holding. He was a general in the Mexican
War, and for a long time enjoyed the unique reputation of being the only
man who was ever shot through the lungs and survived. This, however, was
not true. Many others, no doubt, underwent the same experience, and I
remember a young Chippewa Indian who, while on a war party into the
Sioux country, was wounded in exactly the same manner, and lived to a
good old age as a very robust savage.
When the general returned from the Mexican War to Illinois, he was
exceedingly popular. He was made commissioner of the general land office
of the United States and judge of the supreme court of the State of
Illinois, and was subsequently elected to the senate of the United
States; but when he was about to take his seat he ran up against the
snag that is found in section 3 of article I of the constitution of the
United States, which provides that a senator must have been a citizen of
the United States for nine years before election, and it appeared that
the general fell short of the requisite period. The consequence was that
he was rejected, and he had to return to his state. But the citizens of
Illinois wanted him to represent them in the senate, and as soon as he
attained the proper citizenship they returned him, and he was admitted
and served his full term. The general found out that his chances for
reelection were not flattering, and as Minnesota was about applying for
admission as a state in the Union, he decided to emigrate to that
territory. What his motives were I, of course, cannot say, but as I was
watching closely political events, I concluded that he had in view an
election to the senate from the new State of Minnesota, and I kept my
eye on his movements.
It was soon announced that the general had located the land warrant
awarded to him for his services in the Mexican War, on a quarter section
of land in the neighborhood of Faribault, in Rice county, in this
territory, and that he intended to settle upon it. There was a little
buncombe added to this announcement, to the effect that this was the
first case in the history of America where a general officer had settled
in person upon the land donated to him as a reward for the services he
had rendered and the blood he had shed for his adopted country. We
always called the general's home "The blood-bought farm."
There was an election in our territory in 1856 or 1857, I forget which,
for delegate to Congress. Henry M. Rice had received the nomination of
the regular Democratic convention for the position, and General Gorman
(then territorial governor), Henry H. Sibley and many other leading
Democrats had deliberately bolted the judgment of the convention, and
nominated David Olmsted for delegate. The fight was on hot. I, of
course, was for Rice, the regular nominee. I then lived well up in the
Minnesota valley, at Traverse des Sioux, and we were becoming a power in
the territory in a political sense, and I looked forward to the arrival
of such a prominent Democrat as General Shields in our midst as an event
of major political importance. He soon landed at Hastings, on the
Mississippi, with a complete outfit for a permanent settlement. A good
story is told of his advent at Hastings. In those days of steamboating,
all the belongings of an immigrant would be landed on the levee and his
freight bill would be presented to him by what we called the mud clerk,
and he would take an account of his stock and pay the freight. Legend
reports that the general had five barrels of whisky among his
paraphernalia, and when the first one was rolled ashore he seated
himself upon it to watch the debarkation, and when the bill was
presented he refused to pay it because he could see only four barrels,
and demanded the fifth. The clerks got on to the joke, and pretended to
search for the missing barrel until the last whistle blew, when they
suggested to the general that he was occupying the disturbing element.
Whether the contents of the barrel ever caused any other
misunderstandings history fails to record.
As soon as the general was comfortably settled on the blood-bought farm
I dispatched a courier across the country to him, informing him of the
political situation, and imploring him to come out for the regular
Democratic ticket; but he replied in a very diplomatic way that he was
too new a comer to take any active part in the election, and declined.
Tom Cowan, George Magruder and I, a trio which composed the leadership
of the Democracy of the Minnesota valley, decided that the general
should never go to the senate if we could prevent it, and it so happened
that when the first legislature of the state assembled Tom Cowan was in
the senate, but all our efforts to beat him failed, and Henry M. Rice
and the general were elected to the United States Senate. It was hard to
beat a man in those days who was a Democrat, an Irishman and a wounded
soldier.
The only unlucky thing that the general ever encountered was the fact
that he drew the short term when the lots were cast for the positions
the new senators were to assume.
The general served out his term in the senate just about the time the
Civil War broke out, and he tendered his services to the country, and
became a general of volunteers. He was wounded in some battle, and I
remember reading a general order announcing that he had sufficiently
recovered to ride at the head of his brigade in a buggy. I took
advantage of this singular position for a military commander, and
impressed into the service of the state a splendid $2,000 team of
trotters belonging to Harry Lamberton, with his buggy, and himself as
driver, and rode comfortably in it until the end of the Indian war, at
the head of my brigade.
The general was not long in discovering that the political wind had
taken a Republican direction in Minnesota, which boded him no good. So
he pulled up stakes and emigrated to Texas. There he felt the public
pulse, and not finding any immediate indications that he would be chosen
senator, and not having any pressing business in any other line, he
emigrated to California. There he found a more favorable outlook, and
almost as soon as he gained a residence in the state he was nominated
for the United States Senate by the Democrats, and came within one or
two votes of an election.
The general had always been a bachelor before going to California, but
he surrendered to the charms of a lady of that state, and married. Not
being willing to remain until the next senatorial election, he migrated
to the State of Missouri, where he was very soon elected to congress by
a substantial majority of about 3,000; but, it being in the
reconstruction period, and he being a Democrat, the state board found no
difficulty in counting him out, after which event very little was heard
of the general for some years, when he appeared on the lecture platform,
discoursing on Mexico. This venture was not much of a success, and the
general was reputed to be quite broken up financially.
His next appearance was at Washington as a candidate for doorkeeper of
the senate, which office, I believe, is one of both dignity and profit;
but he did not succeed in getting it, and returned to Missouri, broken
in fortune and spirit. It was just at this critical period in his career
that his luck returned, and he became famous in a direction that no
other man in the United States has ever reached. A vacancy occurred in
the office of United States senator from Missouri, either by death or
some other reason, and the governor bestowed the position upon the
general, thus making him a member of the body of which he had so
recently sought to become the doorkeeper, and conferring upon him the
peculiar and conspicuous distinction of being the only man in the
republic who ever represented three states in the senate of the United
States.
The general died some years ago, and the state of his original adoption,
Illinois, conferred the additional immortal honor upon his memory by
placing his full-length statue in bronze in the old house of
representatives at the capitol in Washington, which has become the
American Pantheon, in which each state is permitted to commemorate in
this way two of its most honored sons.
Truly a most extraordinary and enviable career.
LA CROSSE.
There is nothing remarkable in the fact that places should be named for
something that has happened in or about their locality, and nothing is
more natural than that places on the upper Mississippi river should be
named after Indians and Indian occurrences. For instance, we have
Prairie du Chien, which is the French for the Dog prairie. In early days
an Indian chief, who sailed under the dignified name of "The Dog," had
his headquarters at this prairie, and thus the name. It will be observed
that it has maintained its name in full, "Prairie du Chien," and was, in
days past, a military post, called Fort Crawford, and is now quite an
important town in Wisconsin.
A little way up the river, and we have "Prairie La Crosse," but the
first part of the name is generally dropped now, and it is known as La
Crosse simply. No old settler, however, who dates back of the fifties,
ever calls it anything but "Prairie La Crosse." This place got its name
from the fact that the Indians selected it as a favorite point at which
to play their game, known to them as "Ta-kap-si-ka-pi," but called by
the French, "La Crosse." Anyone who has been there, and is familiar with
the prairie on which the city of La Crosse is built, will recognize at
once its superior advantages for a game of ball of any kind. It is long,
wide and level. This game has always been a great favorite with the
Sioux Indians. It originated with them, and became what might be called
their national game. From its spirited character, it was very much liked
by the Canadian-French, and they adopted it to such an extent that it
is called their national game, but under an entirely different name.
They called it "La Crosse," and are still devoted to it. In fact, it is
played very generally throughout the northern half of North America. In
playing the game, the Indians used a stick made of ash about the length
of a walking cane with a circular bend at the end most distant from the
hand, in which curve was a network of buckskin strings, forming a
pocket, about four inches in diameter and two inches deep. With this
stick, which is called a "Ta-ki-cap-si-cha," the ball is manipulated.
The ball is of wood, round, and about the size of a hen's egg, and in
the game must never be touched by the hand. The Canadians have changed
the form of stick used by them, by making it longer, and forming the end
that takes the ball something like half of a tennis racquette.
The site of La Crosse was in early years the favorite ball ground of the
Indians, and from this circumstance acquired its present name. The game
is too well known to need a description. Suffice it to say that the main
object is to get the ball to certain goals by two contending parties
struggling in different directions. In its main features it resembles
hockey, polo, football, and similar games; but with the Indians differs
in point of the numbers who play, the whites being limited to eleven or
twelve on a side, while with the Indians a whole band may play on each
side.