iiiiliiir UBRARY OF CONGRESS DDDED3bfl7TE '.^ /.5?5^;<^ ^ 1.^ .c^-. 4 O , V •^ - _ 5 ' i— 5 ^\ A. <^, ,-J> -f ,v = « o ,^ o >o- A *^^/r?7py .-J II '1 ill ^ifph -i' W' FOURTH Til XT SAND. LiPE of tIYYlains AND AMONG THE DIGGINGS; BEING SCENES AND ADVENTURES OF AN OYERLAND JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA: ■WITH PARTICULAR INCIDENTS OF THE KOFTE, MISTAKES AND SUFFERINGS OF THE EMIGRANIS, THE INDIAN TRIBES, THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE OF THE GREAT WEST. BY A. DELANO. NEW YOBK: MILLER, ORTON & CO. 1857. Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year one thousand eight hundred and , fifty-three, by A.. DELANO, In tlie Clerk's Otfice of the District Court of the Northern District of New-Tork. /^Z^/^f Whether toiling through the deep sands of the barren desert, suffering from hunger and thirst ; or weary and -way-worn in climb- ing stupendous heights of the Sierra; whether surrounded by death and desolation on the Plains, or obtaining slight repose in the new cities of the Pacific — the reminiscences of our happy, school-boy days, too often intrude on my memory, to ^^ermit me to forget my old and well-tried friend of early years. And now that the dangers are passed — when we can sit side by side in "the old arm chairs," and trundle the hoop, or throw the ball, in fancy, and laugh over our boyish follies — these recollections of by-gones only cement the kindly feeling, which is rarely " of this world." It is only a slight testimonial of respect — indeed, were it an hundred fold greater, you would deserve it — but such as it is, my heart dedicates this little work to you. THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE. Unexpected era in life — Company formed at Dayton, Ohio — Departure to St. Joseph — On the Missouri — Brown — Boat Embassy — Crowded emigration — Death by cholera and bu- rial of a young Virginian — Indian Territory — Safe arrival of cattle at St. Joseph — Death by cholera and burial of Har- ris — Chill and Fever — Harney's Landing — Ferry across the Missouri — Indian country — Timber land — Panorama Plains — Our seventeen wagons — Fifty Ottawa men — Great and Little Namaha 13 CHAPTER II. Rolling prairie — An old pioneer — Strangers with mules and ponies — "White men and Indian — Indian theft and decep- tion — Prairie — Grass and water — Thunder shower at night — Mistake of the day — Spoiled bacon — Dividing ridge — The two Namahas — feroken country — Out of the way — Crossing the Great Namaha — Bridge built and crossed — Westward — Tributary of the Little Namaha — Severe thun- der shower at night — Wyeth's Run — Hall's Ford — Un- known stream — Pioneer Green — Absentee — South-west course — Crossed the stream — Signs of Buflfalo 23 VI CONTEKTS. CHAPTER III. PACK. Big Namaha — Lost run— The Big Blue— Dry weed fuel — No water — Prairie dogs — Onion famHy — Table land — S. S. Course — Road found — Nineteen days on Prairie — Com- panies of gold-seekers — Little Blue — Sand hills— Valley of the Platte — Muddy Missouri —Fort Kearny —St. Joseph road united — Colder atmosphere — Meeting old friends — Captain Tutt — Indian company — Fort — Willow — Severe rain storm 42 CHAPTER IV. A change for the better — Islands in the Platte — Indian robbe- ry — South Bend company — Terrible storm and great loss of cattle — Forks of the Platte — Buffalo — Meeting Friends — Buffalo meat — Fording the river — Men lost — Washing (Jay — Serious results of a joke — Indian village and bury- ing ground — Tindall's grave — Smith Creek — Court-House Kock — Chimney Rock — The "post-office" — Unexpected meeting — Emigrant trains — Picturesque valley — Scott's Bluffs 55 CHAPTER V. Laramie Peak — Laramie River — Fort Laramie — South Bend company — Warm Springs — Cold Water Creek — Division of the company — Horse Creek and Riola Bonta — Black Hills — Crow Indians — Rock Ridge — A beautiful creek — Alkaline district — Colonel Joseph Watkins — A sublime Government — Poison water — Dead cattle — Ferry over the North Platte 75 CHAPTER VI. Over the North Platte — Wagon on the current — Mule trains — Sand-stone cone — Antelopes and wolves — Dry pond — Saleratus — Poison water — encampment — immense number of emigrants — The red Buttea — Sand Rock — Willow CONTENTS. YU PAGE, Spring — Timely hospitality — Independence Rock — Sweet "Water River — Intense heat — Perpendicular rock — River through the chasm — Devil's Gate— Shooting a desperado — Myriads of crickets 90 CHAPTER VII. Valley of the Sweet Water — Wind River — Toils of the emi- grant — Rencounter threatened — Ice in the desert — Prai- rie dogs, antelope and mountain sheep — "All is not gold that glitters" — Trading post — Fraudulent post-office — A beautiful prospect — Ascent to the South Pass — Face of the country — Great numbers of dead cattle — suffering of the emigrants — An old settler — A man accidentally shot — South Pass — Over the mountains — A last look homeward Disbanding of trains 103 CHAPTER Vni. Leaving South Pass — Little and Dry Sandy Rivers — Passage by Sublett's cut-off — Hardships in the desert — Green River — Re-uuion of old friends at the Ferry — Brutal murder — Search for the criminal — Irregular jury trial — Indepen- dence day — Unpleasant incidents. — A welcome shade — Bear River — Camp of Snake Indians — Rough traveling — Face of the country — Mountain Indians and traders — Game 118 CHAPTER IX. Hanting Excursion — Mountain scenery — Bear River Valley — ^Beer Springs — Mineral Springs — Visit to the craters of two extinguished volcanoes — Lindley's misfortune — River Neuf — Arrival at Fort Hall — Panack River — Trading with the Indians — Mule train from Oregon — Valley of Raft River — Large snake — The author gets lost — His suffering for water — Return — Valley of Goose Creek 136 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. PAGK Hot Spring Valley — Post-office — Destitute Emigrants — Chill and fever — A party of Digger Indians — Anecdotes — The great basin — Humboldt, or Mary's River — Wild fowl — Appetite and provisions — News from the Platte — Sickness and abandonment of Mr. Ware — Incidents by the way — In- dian depredations — Mary's River — Night travel — More trouble from the Indians — wolves — sleeping in the open air 154 CHAPTER XI. Broken Surface of the country — Visit to Lieut. Thompson's camp — Col. Kinkead — Bad news from the Sink — Pastimes — Left the Humboldt River — Journey over the desert — Suf- ferings for want of grass and water — A mother's affection for her child — The oasis in the desert — Hot springs 178 CHAPTER XII. Hot springs — Applegate's route — Onward over the desert — More Indian theft — In pursuit of the Indians — Distressing reports from the desert — Quantities of dead cattle and hor- ses — Remarkable curiosity — Canon through the mountains — Standing sentry — Travelers from Oregon — Lake of salt water — Fresh beef 187 CHAPTER Xm. The Sierra Nevada in sight — Dry bed of a lake — Excursion to the mountains — Narrow escape from an Indian's arrow — Mountain scenery — Crossing the mountain — Salt Lake — Pitt River — A hill of magnesia — Mount Shasta — 1 noble act of relief — Magazine Rock — Heroic fight with the Indians — Adventure among the Indians 201 CHAPTER XIV. Leaving the valley of Pitt River — False alarm — Good forage —Feather Creek — Timely hospitality from a brotlier Odd- CONTENTS. ix PAGK. fellow — An under-groiind river — Game — Cooking a beef steak — Prospecting for gold — Venison — Effects of starva- tion — Deer Creek — Starting alone for the valley of the Sac- ramento — Incidents by the way — The valley in sight — Sensations — Col. Davis' house — Lawson's Settlement — Pri- ces of provisions — Emigrants 217 CHAPTER XV. Sufferings of the emigrants on the journey in the fall of 1849 and 1850 — Destitution — Cholera — Employments in the mines — Narrative continued — Arrival in the valley — Bro- ken contracts — Separation — In pursuit of supplies — Indi- ans at the Eanches 284 CHAPTER XVI. Arrival at Sutter's Fort — Plans for the future — Meet Captain Greene and Doctor Angel — Friendly aid — Sacramento City — Departure for the mines — Bear River — Cayotes — Yuba River — Arrival at the mines — Sickness — Success in trade — Return for more goods 249 CHAPTER XVII. Hardships of the miners — Unexpected meeting with Colonel Watkins — Kindness of Doctor Morse — Doctor Patrick — Crossing the Yuba River — Sickness — Severe rains — Theft, and its cause — Returning from the mines — Melancholy death of Mr. Chipman 258 CHAPTER XVm. Trouble with the Indians on the South Fork — Fate of Mr. Hen- derson on the North Fork of the Platte — His wife and chil- dren — Prospecting for gold — The result — Disappointed hopes, and failures — Getting rid of the Indians — Mr. Tur- ner — Melancholy incidents : 272 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIX. PAGa Stolen cattle — Rapid growth of cities and villages — Specula- tion — Uncertainty of titles — Sacramento City — Its gam- bling houses — Refinement — Great flood — Crayon sketch- es — A speciilation in town lots — The Indians 285 CHAPTER XX. Influence over the Indians — Tlieir character and habits — Bu- rial rites — Affection for the dead — Their language — Food — Selection of marriage partners — Government — Dress — Their propensity to gamble 295 CHAPTER XXI. Disposition and character of the Indians — Their honesty — Cruelty and injustice of the whites — Incidents — Their con- fidence — Number of wives — Anecdotes — Their final exter- mination S09 CHAPTER XXII. Peter the hunter — At the battle of Waterloo — His adventures — His daughters — Jim Beckwith — His daring act among the Blackfeet, and escape — Southern Indians — Influence of the Catholic missions — Change of quarters — Miners in search of the Golden Lake — The result 821 CHAPTER XXIII. Departure for the Gold Lake country — Mexican muleteers, and pack mules — A California lion — Arrival at Grass Val- ley — Settlers and gamblers — A qxiarrel — Loss of mides — Sublime mountain scenery — Onion Valley — Difficiilt de- scent from the mountains — mules precipitated down the steep banks — Arrival and settlement at Independence — Un- certainty of business operations at the mines — A storm — Sudden departure of the miners — A losing business 884 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XXIV. PAGE. Nelson's Creek — Independence bar — The climate — Mountain life — Struggles of the nainers — their disappointments — Population — Mining life — Gambling and dissipation — Horrible murder — Robberies — Volcanic remains — Change of Location — New acquaintances — Departure for San Fran- cisco 847 CHAPTER XXV. Arrival at San Francisco — Admission of California as a State — Excitement and rejoicing of the citizens — State of the country — Indignation at the delays of Congress in admitting her into the Union — The need of laws — Previous good or- • der of the inhabitants — Commencement of crime — Partic- ular cases of crime — Insecurity of life and property — In- dignation of the citizens — Bold robbery and apprehension of the criminals — Execution of Stuart and "Wildred — Pub- lic sentiment — Immense meeting on the plaza — The Vigil- ance committee of San Francisco — Execution of Jenkins^ Resolutions to establish the Peoi)le's Court — Salutary effects, 356 CHAPTER XXVI. Resources of California — Uncertainty of mining — Probable extent of the gold region — Where gold is usually found — Hints to persons prospecting — Talc beds — Auriferous quartz veins — Cause of failure in mining — Crushing the rock and separating it from the gold — The Chilian mill — Process of separation — The mines inexhaustible — Enterprise of the Miners 8T2 CHAPTER XXVII. California — Her resources — Mineral wealth — Climate — Till- able land in the valleys — Richness of the soil — Produc- tions — Water-power — Timber — Rapid increase of popula- tion — Health — Conclusion ,■ 881 fifi^ 011 tl}t fkius. CHAPTER I. unexpected era in life company formed at dayton, ohio depar- ture to st. joseph on the missouri brown boat embassy — • crowded emigration death by cholera and burial of a young virginian indian territory safe arrival of cattle at st. jo- seph death by cholera and burial of harris chill and fever — • Harney's landing — ferry across the Missouri — indian country — timber land panorama plains our seventeen wagons fifty ottawa men great and little namaha. Ninety days previous to the 5th of April, 1849, had any one told me that I should be a traveler upon the wild wastes be- tween the Missouri river and the Pacific ocean, I should have looked upon it as an idle jest ; but circumstances, wliich fre- quently govern the course of men m the journey of life, were brought to bear upon me ; and on the day above named, I be- came a nomad denizen of the world, and a new and important era of my life began. My constitution had suffered sad uu'oads by disease incident to western chmate, and my physician frankly told me, that a change of residence and more bodily exertion was absolutely necessary to effect a radical change m my system — in fact, that my life depended upon such a change, and I finally concluded 14 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. to adopt his advice. About this time, the astonishing accoimts of the vast deposits of gold in Cahfornia reached us, and besides the fever of the body, I was suddenly seized with the faxev of mind for gold ; and m hopes of receiving a speedy cure for the ills both of body and mmd, I turned my attention " west- ward ho !" and immediately commenced making arrangements for my departure. A company had been formed at Dayton, a few miles above Ottawa, under the command of Captain Jesse Greene, for the purpose of crossmg the plains, and I resolved to jom it. Our general rendezvous was to be at St. Joseph, on the Missouri, from wliich we intended to take our depar- ture, I had engaged men, purchased cattle and a wagon, and subsequently laid m my supplies for the trip, at St. Louis. My wagon i sliipped by water to St. Joseph, and sent my cattle across the coimtiy about the middle of March, to meet me at the place of rendezvous, in Ai3ril. All thuigs being m readiness, on the day first named, I bid adieu to my family and to Ottawa, and proceeded to St. Louis on the steamer Revolution, and there took passage for St. Joseph on the Embassy, The companions of my mess were Messrs. J. H. Fredenbm-g, Matthew Harris, and Eben Smith, from Ottawa — the two last I had engaged to take across the plains, on condition of their assistance durmg the journey, and half they should make for one year from the time we left home — a contract which was then common. We were joined on our tri^i up the river by a young man named Robert Brown, who was lookmg out for some opportmiity of going to Califor- nia, and who was proceeduig to St. Joseph for tliis purpose. There was a great crowd of adventurers on the Embassy. Nearly every State in the Union was represented. Every berth was full, and not only every settee and table occupied at ON THE MISSOURI. 15 night, but the cabhi flooi" was covered hj the sleeping emi- grants. The decks were covered with wagons, mules, oxen, and mmmg implements, and the hold was filled with supplies. But tliis was the condition of every boat — for smee the invasion of Rome by the Goths, such a deluge of mortals had not been witnessed, as was now pourmg fi'om the States to the various pomts of departui^e for the golden shores of California. Vis- ions of sudden and immense wealth were danemg in the im- magmations of these anxious seekers of fortimes, and I must confess that I was not entirely fi'ee from such dreams ; and like our sage statesmen, cogitating upon the condition of the Na- tional Treasury, witli the extmguishment of the National Debt, under the admuaistration of General Jackson, I wondered what 1 should do with all the money which must necessarily come into my pocket ! Our first day out was spent m these pleasing reflections, and the song and the jest went round with glee — while the toil, the dangers, and the hardships, yet to come, were not thought of, for they were not yet understood. But they were understood soon enough, nous verrons. On the second day, amid the gaities of our motley crowd, a voice was.heard, wliich at once checked the sound of mirth, and sti'uck with alai'm the stoutest heart — " the cholera is on boai'd 1" For a moment all voices were hushed — each looked in another's face ill mute mquiry, expecting, perhaps, to see a victim in his neighbor. " The cholera ? Gracious Heaven ! How? — where? Who has got it ?"— and fi'om that moment anxiety prevailed — for who could tell that he might not become a victim ? At length cahxmess gamed the ascendency, and excitement passed away ; but the subdued tones of those who had been the most gay, attested the interest which they felt m the melancholy announcement, A young gentleman, belonging to a company 16 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. from Vii'gima, who had mdulged in some imprudence in eatmg and drinking, while at St. Louis, was the subject of attack ; and although every attention was rendered which skill and science could give, the symptoms grew worse, and he expu'cd at ten o'clock on the mornuig afler he Avas taken ill. It was a melancholy spectacle, to see one who had lefl home with liigh hopes of success, so prematurely stricken down ; and although he had no mother near liim to soothe liis last anguish, or weep over his disti'ess, he was surrounded by friends who were ready and willing to yield any assistance to mitigate his pain, Lideed, there was not a man on board, whose heart did not yearn to do something for the sufferer. Preparations were made for his interment ; and a little before sunset the boat was stopped, to give us, his companions, an opportunity to bury him. It w^as in a gorge, between two lofty hills, where a spot was selected for liis gi-ave. A bright gi-een sward spread over the gentle slope, and under a cluster of trees his grave was dug by strangers. A procession was formed by all the passengers, which, with a solemnity the occasion demanded, proceeded to the grave, where an intimate friend of the deceased read the Epis- copal burial service, tlu'oughout wliich there was a di'izzling rain, yet every hat was removed, in respect to the memory of a fellow passenger, and in reverence to God. How little can we foresee our own destuiy ! Instead of turning up the golden sands of the Sacramento, the spade of tlie adventurer was first used to bury the remains of a companion and friend. A tedious passage of ten days brought us, on the 19th, to St. Joseph, where we learned that the Dayton company, which had preceded ns, had left that day, with the mtention of moving up the river to some other point for crossing into the Indian DEATH OF HAKRIS. 17 Territory, v/here they would halt until the grass was sufficiently advanced to afford forage for our cattle, and which would give us ample time to overtake them before setting out from the land of civilization, on our arduous journey across the plains. I also heard that my cattle had arrived safely, and were waiting, ander the charge of Henderson, about a day's journey in the country ; and I dispatched Smith to notify Henderson of our arrival, and to bring them in. Our goods and wagon were soon landed, and as every public house in town was crowded by emigrants to overflowuig, (having a portable cooking stove,) we slept and messed m our wagon, m one of the back streets ; and up to Sunday night, all were enjoying our usual health. About four o'clock on Monday morning, we were awakened by groans, and cries of distress, from the outside of our wagon. "Who is that? — what is the matter'?" I exclaimed, starting from a sound sleep. " Who is sick ? " " It must be Mr. Harris," said Brown, " for he is not in here." We sprang out, and indeed found poor Harris, writhmg and agonized, under an attack of cholera. I immediately gave him a large dose of laudanum, the only palliative we had at hand, and dispatched a messenger for a physician. He was violently taken with the worst symptoms, but within an hour was under- going regular treatment fi'oni a skillful physician. For about three hours he suffered mtense pain, with vomiting, purging, cramps, and cold extremities, while a clammy sweat started from every pore. During the day we moved him to a more quiet and secluded spot, and his symptoms became more favora- ble. The evacuations and vomitings ceased, his limbs became warm, liis eye brightened, and he thought, as we did, that he was better. He remamed in this state about three hours, du- ring which we contiinied our exertions m rul:)l)ing him, and 18 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. making the applications advised by the physician, when all looked upon him as out of danger. Suddenly, and without any warning, he began to gasp for breath, and m five minutes lay a corpse before us. We could scarcely credit our senses. He, who but the night before bid as fair to Kve as any one of us — he, who passed the good natured jest with us, in the fullness of health and strength, now lay extended, an inanimate mass of clay, " one of the things that were." Alas ! it was too true, and our friend had " gone to that bourn, from which no ti'aveler returns." We laid him out on the groimd decently, and as well as our slender means would allow, and BroMii and myself lay near him that night, keeping a melancholy watch by the light of oiu* camp fire, over the remains of our companion and fi'iend. If an honest, well-meaning man ever lived, poor Harris was one and his simple habits, and virtuous inclinations, had endeared liim to us all. We dug his grave ourselves, in the morning, and with no tolling bell to mark the sad requiem, we buried him in a cluster of trees, by the side of a beautifiil rivulet. My wagon-top had received some injury when getting it on board at St. Louis, and while repairmg it, afi:er the sad duty of burying Mr. Harris, Henderson and Smith arrived with the cattle, and by AVednesday morning we were ready to pursue our journey. Brown was installed in Harris' place, and under the direction of Mr. Fredenburg the party started off to follow the track of the Dayton company, Avhile I remained to get let- ters, which might be forwarded to St. Joseph by the mail of the following day. I may say here that in this we were disap- pointed, for no letters caine, and it was ten months before we received the first vrord from our friends at home. While I was at work repairing my wagon, the day was very warm, and CHILL AND FEVER. 19 being imaccustomed to labor, when night came, I went early to bed, at a house where I had obtained lodgings, exhausted by the fatigues of the last few days. Before I got to sleep, I felt strangely. Was there a change in the weather ? I could nol get warm. I piled on more clothes. I felt as if I was in an ice-house. Ugh ! the cold chills were creeping along my back I involuntarily drew up my knees, and put my head under the bed clothes, but to no purpose — I was shivering, fi'eezing, and then so thirsty ! — I wanted a sti'eam of ice-water running do^TO my tlu'oat. At length I began to grow warm, warmer ; then hot, hotter, hottest. I felt like a mass of living fire — a perfect engine, wthout the steam and smoke. There seemed to 1)8 wood enovigh from some source, but I poured in water till I thought my boiler would bin-st, mthout allaying the raging thirst which consumed me. At last the fever ceased, and then, indeed, the steam burst in a. condensed form through the pores of my burning skin, and my body was bathed ua a copious per- spiration, that left me as weak as any " sucking dove." I had had a visit from my old friends, cliill and fever. Thursday came, and I felt too ill to ride. I lay up to dry ; but on Friday morning I went through another baptism of fire and water, the ceremony of which closed about noon. Deter- mined to be with my friends if I was doomed to be sick, and as our medicines were in the wagon, I mounted the pony, Old Shal)anay, which had been left for me, and although so weak that I could hardly keep my seat, I started. I soon found my strength increase in the fine air, and when I reached Savannah, a pretty town fourteen miles above St. Joseph, I felt quite well, though weak. On Satui'day moi-ning, I made the chief part of my breakfast from blue pill, and started off in pvn-suit of my wagon, which 1 20 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. overtook in a ride of ten miles. Suspecting my illness, the company had driven slowly, in order to let me overtake them. On Suiaday "we reached English Grove, sixty-five miles above St. Joseph, where we learned that the Dayton company had resolved to cross the Missouri at a ferry just estahlished, called Harney's Landing, and remain on the opposite bank imtil it was ascertained that there was sufficient grass for the cattle, and then take an obscure route, over which only one train had pass- ed, about four years previous, and strike the St. Josej^h and Platte road at a point which it was said would put us in ad- vance of the St. Joseph and Independence ti'ains, at least ten days. Feeling that it was absolutely necessary for me to lay up and nurse myself, and as there was plenty of time to overtake the train, while the boys went on with the wagon, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Van Leuvin and family, to whom 1 ana much indebted for the kindness wliich a sick man requires, and went resolutely into " drugs and medicines." On the 2d day of May, feeling that I could " throw physic to the dogs," I took leave of my kind host, and again mounting Old Shab, I rode to the ferry, where I learned that the company had started that day, determined to go on as far as the grass would allow the cattle to be driven. After dunier, dropping a few words to my fiiends by the last regular mail, I crossed the river, which is, perhaps, a third of a mile m "width, and stood, for the first time, in the Lidian country. The camp of the company had been about a mile and a half below the feny, on the bottom, bvit I found it vacated when I reached it, though the trail of their wagons was plataly to be seen, leading up the high bluff, which runs parallel with .the river, PANORAMA PLAINS. 21 and I turned my pony's head towards the Platte. Ascending a long liill, I found the land sparsely covered ^rith timber, and much broken, as far as the eye could see among the trees ; but the road marked by our trahi was on an easy ridge, which led beyond the broken gi'ound into the interior. The timber contmued four or five miles, when it ceased, and the eye rested on a broad expanse of rolling prairie, till the heavens and earth seemed to meet, on one vast carpet of green. In vain did the eye endeavor to catch a glimpse of some farm- house, some cultivated field, some herd of cattle, cropping the luxvuiant grass in the distance ; yet no sign of civilization met the eye. All was stiU and lonely, and I had an overwhelming feehng of wonder and surprise at the vastness and silence of the panorama. It seemed as if the sight of an hidian would have given relief, but not one appeared, and on, on I rode, without seeing a sign of life, and with none but my own thoughts to commune with. A little before night-fall, on risuag a hill, I came suddenly in sight of the encampment of our company, consisting of seven- teen wagons and fifty men, aU of whom were fi'om the neigh- borhood of Ottawa. Tliey were encamped hi a hollow, near a fine spring, and putting Old Shab to his best gait, in tlu-ee min- utes I stood among my fi-iends, with a glorious appetite to partake of then' savory supper of bacon, bread and coffee. They had made about fifteen miles. Soon after my arrivfJi^ all hands were summoned, by the blast of the bugle, for the piu-pose of adoptmg general rules for mutual safety m traveling and also to detail a guard for the night. My owii mess was now composed of Messrs. J. H. Freden- burg, Benjamin K. Thorne, Robert Brown, Hazel Henderson, John Morrell, Eben Smith, and myself. It was the intention M12 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. • of om' company to keep the dividing ridge between the Great and Little Namaha, to a certain point wliich had been marked out, and then strilve off to the St, Joseph road, which we had been assured we could reach m about eight days, and we relied much on following the trail of the train which had passed over the ground four years before, and which here was plainly perceptible. Our guards being posted, we all turned into our tents, and fatigue and the novelty of our situation were soon forgotten in the arms of the god of sleep. CHAPTER II. ROLLING PRAIRIE AN OLD PIONEER STRANGERS WITH MULES AND PONIES WHITE MEN AND INDIAN INDIAN THEFT AND DECEPTION PRAIRIE, GRASS AND WATER THUNDER SHOWER AT NIGHT MISTAKE OF THE DAY SPOILED BACON DIVIDING RIDGE THE TWO NAMAHAS BROKEN COUNTRY OUT OF THE WAY CROSSING THE GREAT NAMAHA BRIDGE BtHLT AND CROSSED WESTWARD TRIBUTARY OF THE LITTLE NAMAHA SEVERE THUNDER SHOWER AT NIGHT WYETH RUN HALL's FORD UNKNOWN STREAM PIONEER GREENE ABSENTEE SOUTH- W. COURSE CROSSED THE STREAM SIGNS OF BUFFALO. MAY 3, 1849. Our company was well arranged and provided for the gi'eat journey before us. Every wagon was numbered, and our cap- tain, with the concurrence of the members of the company, directed that each wagon should in turn take the lead for one day, and then, falling m the rear, give place to the succeeding number, and so on, alternately, till the whole seventeen advanced in tum. Every mess was provided with a portable light cook ing stove, which, though not absolutely necessary, was often found convenient, on account of the scarcity of fuel; each man was well armed with a rifle, pistol, and knife, with an abvindant supply of ammunition, and each mess had a good and substan- tial tent. Each wagon was drawn by from three to six yoke of 24 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. good cattle ; and it was agreed that they should he prudently driven, for we could well anticipate the helplessness of our con- dition, should our cattle give out on the plains, where they could not he duplicated. To prevent their bemg stolen hy the Lidians, or sti*aying at night, a watch was set while tliey' were feeding ; and at dark they were driven in and tied to the wagons, where they were constantly imder the supervision of the night guard ; and it is owing to this watclifulness and care, that we lost none by Indians tliroughout the trip. Before sun-rise the cattle were diiven out to graze, and all hands were astir, and some engaged in that busi'iess of life, cook- ing breakfast. The wagons formed a circle, outside of which the tents were pitched, so that had thieves been disposed to get at our valuables, they would have been compelled to pass into the umer circle, under the eyes of the guard ; and in case of an attack, the wagons would form a barricade. Anticipating a scarcity of fuel, the company, on leading the timber of the Missouri, had thrown wood enough on the wagons to serve two days for cooldng, and now before each one the smoke graceflilly curled, in active preparation for wooduig up the engine of life. Bro^vn was installed cook, the other boys agreeing to perform his duty as night-watch. Henderson drove our cattle, and Smith made himself generally useful, m collecting fuel, pitching and striking the tent — in fact, all had their respective duties to perform. About nine o'clock the camp was broken up, the tents put into the wagons, the cattle di'iven m and yoked, and our second day on the plains commenced. The countiy was rolling prairie ; with the little Namaha on the right, four or five miles distant, and no timber in sight, except on the banks of the sti-eam. Our route was traced mainly by marking the 'course of the hollows and little streams which WHITE MEN AND INDIAN. 25 diverged to the right or left, keeping such ridges as appeared to divide the waters which flowed into the Great or Little Nama- ha. Old Mr. Greene, the father of our worthy captam, from his experience in traversing the "western prairies, acted as our cliief pioneer, and he was rarely at fault, although, at times, it was extremely difficult to determine the ti'ue ridge, from the evenness of the gi'oimd and the win lings of the hollows. About ten o'clock I had walked in advance of the ti'ain about a mUe, and was a little behind Mr. Greene, who was accompanied by Mr. Fredenburg, on the pony, when suddenly two strangers came in sight upon an eminence, having three mules and ponies. On seemg us, they halted and gazed for a few moments, and then took a direction as if to cut off a circuitous bend, which our train was makmg, without approaching us, Messrs. Greene and Fredenburgh, desiring to make some inquiries, galloped across the plain and intercepted them. Tliese men told them that they belonged to a company of an hundred wagons, which had started out from Old Fort Kear- ny two weeks before, and had gone about forty miles on the plains, when the grass failed, and the company were compelled to stop, and that they were then returning to the settlements for some additional supplies. Afler getting some directions, the parties separated, each continuing their several routes. About two hours afterwards we were met by two wliite men and an Lidian, who were in pursuit of these men. It appeared that the two men belonged to no company of emigrants, and their story of the hundred wagons was a sheer fabrication. They had stolen their animals from an Illinois company, at Foit Kearny, and were making their escape. Tlieir pursuers, sus- pecting the Indian to be accessory to the thefl., forced liim to go B 26 LIFE ON THE i'LAiNS. with them iii pursuit. At night the two men returned to our camp, having overtaken the tMeves, who, on seeing that they were pursued, jumped from their animals, and made their escape in the timber on the hank of the creek. When they were run- ning off, the Indian asked perirnssion of his companions to mount a fine pony for the purpose of intercepting tlie rogues. One of them dismounting from his recovered animal, the Indian mounted, and set off in pursuit at a round gallop, and soon dis- appeared bcliind a hill. After waiting some time for his re- appearance, they chanced to look in another direction, and saw the outline of the Indian, making off ^vith their pony, a new saddle, and an overcoat vrhich had remained on the saddle. It was now too late to thinlc of overtaking the red runaway, and they had to submit to their loss with the best grace they could, cursing their own credulity, but giving the Indian credit for his mgenuity. Our course through the day was a little north of west, over a bcautiftil prairie. The ground was generally ascending, with an abundance of grass and water, and our cattle looked well. As the sky portended rain, we encamped about four o'clock in the afternoon, and made preparations accordingly. Trenches were dug around the tents to allow the water to run off, and about night-fall the sky was overcast with black clouds. The wind blew a gale, and the thimder and lightning was terrillc. Peal after peal rolled along, as if heaven's artillery wei'e doing battle, and !:;oon its flood-gates were opened upon us in a per- fect deluge. I never saw it rain harder, yet we found oiu- tents a perfect protection, and we slept on our buffiilo-skin couches with as much composure, as if we had had a tiled roof over our heads. Distance sixteen miles. MISTAKE IN THE WAY. 27 MAY 4. The rain made the roads heavy this mornmg, but we were moving at our usual hour, over a charming, undulating coimtiy, without a ti'ee or slunib in sight only aloDg the streams at a distance, and whose dark verdure along the Little Namaha, in a measure indicated our general course. Once we were at fault. The old trail had become obliterated, and we pursued what we thought was the dividing ridge, till we were suddenly brought up at a bluff which formed a point on the banks of the Little Namaha. Before the ti'ain came up, we sent messen- gers back to turn its direction, while I jumped on a mule, and followed a small tributary a mile and a half to its source, where I fbimd the old ti'ail, and the di\iding ridge only a few rods wide. We encamped near the tributary, where there was good grass and excellent water, after a drive of fourteen miles, and were merry over our coarse fare, laughing at the mistake of the day. MAY 5. We found this morning on dii\dng up om- cattle, that one of Mr. Greene's oxen had become too sore to ti'avel ; he was therefore turned loose, and a cow yoked in his place, which proved to answer the purpose exceedingly well. The road was still heavy, and our train moved slowly, while the wind, which blew a gale every day, retarded our progress with our liigh canvas-covered wagons. It was found to be a fault in having the tops of oiu- wagons too large, for the force of the ^ind against them made the labor much harder on our cattle, and we resolved to stop at the first convenient place and reduce their dimensions, as well as to overhaul rni. "We were now about forty-tive miles from our starUng point, and had approached by the windii^gs of our coui-se, to witliin about a mile o( the Great Nam;\lia, on our left ; and now the coiu-se of both streams was plainly ^•isible from the ridge. We diwe to tlie btmk of the Grcat Namahii, and spent the most of the day in overhaul uig our meat, and in reducing oiu* wagon covei*s to a pivper size, which was fomid to be a decided im- provement. We liad been in bed but a sliort time after tlie laboi"s of tlie day were brought to a dose, when some di'ops of r.iiii pattermg on our tents, admonished us that our prep;u-ations for a storm were incomplete, and one of tlie boys turned out and dug a tivncli aroiuid tlie tent, so tliat when the storm came upon us, we were prepared, and kept perfectly dry. Since leaving the ^Missouri, we had soon no game except a few plover, wliich were ^vild and shy. and although we had been traveling in the Ottoo country for five days, not a single bidimi, save the one pui-suing the hoi-se tliieves, had been seen. Grass was now scimt}', and fuel scarce, and om* practice was, when in the vicinity of streams, to gather wood enough to last two or tlu'ee days, and cany it with us. Distance live miles. :^IAY 6 On looking around tliis morning, it was found tliat Old Shab had served us a sliabby trick, for from appeaiimces he had got tiivd of prairie life, having amply sjitistied his ciuiosity, and had taken the back track for the settlements. Morrell set c>ut m pui-suit, iuid directly came up with liim. BIO AND LITTLE NAMAHA. 29 " Whoa ! Sliab — whoa !" said John, in his most kindly tone, and Shab did " whoa" tCl John's hand was within six inches of his head, when he wheeled like lightning, and kicking up his heels like a dancing master, ran off a few rods, stopped, and looked around with the most irnj^ertinent composure. Not discoiu-aged by this example of coltology, Morrell approached cautiously, and began his whee<]ling " whoa" again. Again Shab allowed his friend to approach him, but as he extended his hand to grasp his mane, he dodged the question with the most diabolical impudence, leaving Morrell to bless his stars at his suigular good fortune in overtaking stray ponies. In this delightful way did Old Shab lead him for miles, till they nearly reached the old camping ground, when, like a coy maiden, he suffered his resolute follower to put his arm around his neck, and bring him in, after a weary and vexatious chase. Distance ten miles. MAY 7. We were up early, and although the wind was high and disagreeable, we were in fine spirits, and our cattle looked and felt well. As I was still weak and unable to walk aU day, I mounted the pony, and rode in company -ft-ith our pioneer, Mr. Greene. The country was be-iutifiol, weU watered, with timber as usual only along the margin of streams, with a deep rich soil, the land rolling A^nthout high or abrupt hUls — and this is the general character of the country between the two Namahas. In keeping the dividing ridge, we sometimes passed within half a mUe of the Big Namaha, and then in half an hour might be at the head of the main ti-iljutaries of the Little Namaha, where the dividing ridge was only two or three r«)ds wide, the 30 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. water flowing to the right and left. Being about t\\o miles in advance of the train, with Morrell, we came up to the tributaries of the Greater Namaha, on our left, with the Little Namaha on oui* right, wliich we desired to head, Aiid there were so many points, and the ground so broken with circuitous ridges, that an hour was spent m exploruig, and determining the right course, hi my ride I started up an elk and a large prairie wolf, the only game which we had yet seen except the shy plover, but they gave leg-bail, and as at that moment we were not prepared for a close hiterview we did not seek a more particular acquaintance. The grass improved in quantity, and there was plenty of water, but no wood ; though we had still enough of the latter on our wagons for the present demand. We encamped after a di'ive of seventeen miles. MAY 8. On ascending a hill this morning we fjund ourselves between the creeks, at a point where it was difHeult to determine our road. There was much difference of opinion upon the subject, and we were all equally wise and keen in lookuig thi'ough a mill stone. Where the true ridge appeared to run, was directly out of our general course, yet there was another ridge in our general direction, and our captain decided to follow it. Taking the spy glass in my hand, I walked about eight miles ahead, over a very broken country, until I reached the apex of a liigh hill, fi'om which I distinctly saw that the sti^eams imited, and that we were between the forks. I was weak and tired and sat down to rest, expecting the ti'ain to arrive soon, when they would discover the mistake. My appetite, too, remmded me that there was an emptiness in my pocket cupboard, and OUT OF THE WAY. 3 J .the only luxury my larder contained ^^•as a vial of qnuiine— )-ather slim fare for a hungiy man on the plains! I waited awhile, and the train not making its appearance, I raised the glass to my eye, and discovered them five or six miles off; maldng a retrograde movement. Tliey had discovered then- error, and were retracing their steps, and as there was no other way, it was necessary that I should retrace muie, or go supperless to bed, which, in my condition, to say the least, was very inconvenient to the " creatui-e comfort." I became very thirsty as well as hungry, but there was no water, and 1 gathered and ate handfulls of sorrel, wliich grew abundantly, but I foimd it but a sorry substitute for meat and di-ink. Weak and weary as I was, by the aid of quinine I toiled on, and just at nightflill came up to the train, now encamped on the gi^ound which they had left in the morning, where I regaled myself on om^ camp luxuries of fried bacon and bread. I had made six- teen miles, " over the left^'' and learned a lesson to keep near the train, which I remembered for many weeks, though I again forgot it to my sorrow. During the morning some large ani- mal was discovered, at too great a distance to make out what it was. Some of our men rode out and discovered that it was a fine sorrel horse, well shod, which probably had been stolen by the hidians fi-om some train, or had strayed ofi", and was enjoy uig the luxury of prairie life, solitary and alone. They tried inefiectually to captiu-e him, but he was too fleet, and too shy for his pursuers to place him in bondage. Dis- tance gauaed, nothuig. MAY 9. Tlie country during the forenoon march was hilly and broken. We were desix'ous of reaching the head of the Big Namalia, LIFE ON THE PLAINS. fls that would bring us upon the St. Joseph road, and we thought a day or two would certainly find us there. The soft ground of the unbeaten prairie compelled us to advance slowly. The trail which we attempted to follow, sometimes disap- peared altogether, and we placed our mam dependence on keep'mg the dividing ridge, which ran in one general course. In the afternoon the country was less broken, and aflbrded many beautiful views. We were on a ridge wth a broad valley on each side, and many little creeks makuig down into the Namahas, and their courses were marked by timber sparsely growing on their banks. All around the grass was green and luxuriant, and it seemed, as we ascended one rise after another, that each \-iew was still more charming than the other. I did not wonder that the aborigines were attiiched to their delightful country, and had it been mine, I should have defended my possession against the encroaclunent of any lawless intruder. We had contrived up to this time to procure wood enough for cooking piu'poses, but now it disappeared, and in place of it there was an abundance of rosin weed, wliich was an excellent substitute. This contained a resmous gum, which exuded under the leaves, and it burned freely. It seemed as if w^hen we were about to be deprived of one essential comfort. Providence had substituted another for our good, and an armfuU of these excel, lent stalks could be gathered in a few mmutes. Ha^^dng gained sufficient strength, I reported myself accor- dingly, and for the first time was detailed as one of the night guard. At the appointed time 1 shouldered my rifle, and commenced my two hours tour of duty. Tlie night was dark, though clear, and there was not even a bush to magnify into an Indian. But I found it a glorious opportunity to th ink, and as I OLD REMINISCENCES. 33 "Pae'd my loaely rounds," old reminiscences passed rapidly before me, so that my guard was by no means a work of labor. I reviewed the scenes of a somewhat eventful life, checkered with good and evil for- tune, from boyhood, when, with my early and still loved fi-iend, Ed. Morgan, I got into a glorious scrape, in throwng fire balls to frighten the girls of a boarding school ; the parental lecture which followed ; then of the love scenes of later years, during which I fooled one good looking girl, and pulled the wool over her eyes in such a way as to make her believe I was a hand- some young scamp, and she took me for better or worse, and is now the mother of my children ; then other friends came up, as m Richmond's dream, not to frighten, but to enkindle old feelings of endearment ; in short, I was m a most glorious train of thought, when the sergeant of the guard shouted, in the still- ness of the night, " relief turn out," and soon my retrospections were buried, like my head, between two as good blankets as ever covered a nomad specimen of humanity. Alas! for poor human nature, California was many days journey distant, and I had ample time to indulge in day dreams and retrospections, before I " dragged my weary length along" in the valley of the Sacramento. Distance eighteen miles. MAY 10. The scenery continued much the same, with no important incident, and we di'ove about sixteen miles. MAY 11. We had a capital breakfast — a change from our ordinary fare. Occasionally, men's appetites grow aristocratic on the plains, and for once we felt disposed to indulge in this anti-plebeian taste. B* 3 34 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. A raccoon had been killed on the previous day, and an ample share was divided with our mess. As the merit of fresh meat is not properly appreciated at home, where it is too common, owhig no doubt to the ordinary way of preparing it, 1 beg leave to append a recipe for tlie best mode of preparing coons for the delicate taste of epicures. Mem. First catch yom' coon and kill him, skin liim, and take out the entrails ; cut oiT his head, wliich thi-ow away; then if you have water to spare, wash the carcass clean, but if you have not, omit the wasliing. Parboil an hoiu' to take out the strong nnisk, then roast it before the fire on a stick. While it is roasting, wallt ten miles, fasting, to get an appetite, then tear it to pieces with your fingers, and it will relish admirably with a little salt and pepper, if you happen to have them. A tin cup of coffee without inilk, taken with it, makes, under the circumstances, a feast fit for the gods. During the day we saw antelopes for the first time, but they were extremely shy, and our hunters could not approach them near enough to get a shot. They played around at a distance, and frequently stopped to gaze at our train as it passed along, with e\adent wondei', as if to ask what strange race we wei-e, and what the dickens we were doing on their stampuig ground. We crossed the Pawnee trails m the course of the day, but the lords of the soil still kept aloof About noon we came to a tril)utary of the Great Namaha, which we crossed by biu'ld- ing a bridge, and here we found the trail again, and the remains of a bridge which the emigrant ti'ain had built four years before. We were in momentary expectation of reaclaing the St. Jo seph road, and eveiy eye was strained in the distance to catch the first view of the throng, who, like ourselves, were bound upon a golden voyage, but still we saw it not. Distance seven- teen miles. CROSSED THE LITTLE NAMAHA. 35 MAY 12. During the night it rained again, and we found the road heavy, but the day was cool, and our course was direct. At noon we reached the Little Namaha, where it was neces- sary to build a bridge before we could cross. We found a beautiful encampment, decidedly the best which we had had, on the margin of the stream, vnth. an abundance of luxuriant grass and wood, and which put us m admirable spirits. We had now arrived at the point when we supposed a few hours drive would bring us to the road, and we were congratulating our- selves upon soon meeting the face of civilized men and fellow travelers. There was a broad bottom covered with rich green, bounded by a lull miles in extent, and the stream was frmged by a luxuriant growth of trees. Antelopes were nuining about hi all dnections, and the river w^as covered with ducks, swim- ming lightly about, while the opposite side was variegated with dead and green patches of grass, which covered the swells of the back groimd as far as we could see. The men went cheerily to work, and durmg the afternoon a good bridge was buUt, the steep banks dug down, and a good place for crossing was made. Peter Hoes and myself took our rifles and sauntered out a couple of miles, and after crossing ditches, forcing our way through bushes, and getting tired, returned to camp without getting a single shot, much to our chagrin. At night we had a grand illumination. The diy grass on the opposite bank was on fire for a long distance, and as occasionally a current of air swept along, the blaze in a huge semi-circle glared up through the darkness like a sea of fire, rolling along fi-om place to place, as the dry gi-ass became ignited, with a most grand and pleas- uig effect. B. K. Thorne proved to be the best marksman of our mess for the day, and returned from an excursion with several ducks. Distance eight miles. 3<) LIFK ON THE n.AINB. MAY 13. After In-eiikfiisting on our ducks in the most approved method ot" praii-ie cooking, we crossed our bridge without difficulty, doublhig our teams to haul the wagons up the steep bank on tlie opposite side, and pui-sued our way tlu'ough the same kind of countiy as on the preceding day, Tne feble of the turkey that twisted his neck offm watching a man walking around his perch, came forcibly to mind, for our own necks were strained and twisted in trying to get a glimpse of the expected road. Yet no such catasti'ophe of falling heads occurred, although the long wished for object did not present itself to our view. Liquiries were made of each other, which none could answer — " How far is it to the road V Maps were consulted, but this route had never been laid down, and the perspective glass was in constant use, but all to no effect. At noon we came to another tributaiy of the Little Namaha, which we thought certainly was the last. Over this we made a bridge in a short time, and at night encamped where there was plenty of gniss and water, but no wood. Antelope and elk were seen in great numbers, and a regular hunting corps was organized, composed of six in number, but they were generally unsuccessful, and our supplies of fi-esh meat mostly continued to run at large in_ a whole skin. Captain Greene and Mr. Fredenburg went out a mile or two, and thought they discovered the timber of the Big Blue, but were probably mistaken. Distance eighteen miles. MAY 14. George Whitiklns ! how it ramed during the night. It seemed as if heaven's ai'iillery was firing a salvo over our devoted heads, and every flash of lightning was instantly answered by a crash- WYETIl'a RUN. 37 ing soimd of thunder. No harm was done, however, except pre- venting our heavy eye-lids from closmg. We made a circuitous march to avoid crossmg streams, and it appeared by the map that we had been traveling f()r the last three days nearly paral- lel with the road. Yie struck the old trail again in the course of the day, which we had lost; indeed, we had long. given up all attempts to follow it, and relied cliiefly on the compass, keeping the dividing ridge where we could. Old Mr. Greene and myself were in advance of- the train some three or four miles, when we came to what we supposed to be Wyeth's Run, a fine sti'eam twice as large as the Namidia. The train stopped by a pond of water, and we returned, ^\hen a consul ta tion was held, at winch it was decided that the company should change its present course, and sti'ike the St. Joseph road as soon as possible, not doubting that we must be within one day's drive of it, and for this purpose it became necessary to cross the stream. The country was higher, the ridges more level, and of greater ]>readth than they had been, but the hills were more abrupt and the hollows deeper than we had found before. Wild onions of an excellent flavor were growing in abundance, and we fomad in the low grounds wild potatoes and artichokes of small size, which were luxm-ies to us, and relished exceedingly well with our " hog and hominy" fare. Distance sixteen miles. MAY 15. Doctor Hall, in searcliing for his cattle which had strayed ofl^ brought in a report that he had discovered a good ford through the stream, about a mUe fi'om our encampment, and before breakflist he rode doAvn with Mi*. Greene to reconnoitre. They found it excellent, and wc named it Hall's Ford, in honor of its discoverer*, and it was duly consecrated by an involimtary bap 38 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. tism of Mr. Greene. Tlie old gentleman rode in to soimd the depth, when his saddle-girth gave way, and he slid, body and breeches, over the raule's head into the water ; but as cold baths are recommended by physicians, he consoled liimself upon the water-cure principle against future disease. Notwithstandhig the consecration, fate claimed a mite for her share from the old gentleman, for when tlie tram was about to ford, he rode in to show the way, when the girth gave way a second time, and made a cold-water man again of him : then he claimed the honor of being the best marksman in the company, for without firing a shot he had got a brace of ducks — certainly two duckuigs in one morning. On ascending the opposite hill, we found a level prairie, over which we traveled in a wes1>south- west direction aU day, and at night encamped by an unknown stream of considerable size, flowing through a broad and beau- tifiil bottom, skirted by trees and slu-ubs, but there was no sign of the road. hi fact, we did not know where we were — we had no trail to follow ; the maps of that portion of the country were necessarily imperfect, and our wandermgs and windings resembled those of the children of Israel in the vdlderness ; and although we knew the road lay somewhere south of us, and by the map should have been at hand, we were often obliged to make long detours to avoid hills and sti'eams. And we found so many of the latter not laid do^vn, that we could not determine with precision, those which wore marked on the map. Our mdefatigable pioneer, old Mr. Greene, determined to search for the trail once more during the day, and while the train went on, he set out without guide or compass, depending upon his long experience m traveling over prairies, and liis rifle for safety, hi the mean time we reached our place of encampment, on wliat we suppos- PIONEER GREENE. 39 ed to be the main branch of Wyeth's Run. Three of our hunt- ers, mcludmg Mr. Greene, had not I'eturned, and as night approached we looked somewhat anxiously for them. A little before sun-set our captam took the flag and went on an emi- nence, which commanded an extensive view of the prairie, that he might serve as a beacon to our belated brethren. At length the old gentleman was seen about half a mile distant, and ex- changed signals with the captain. Suddenly he changed his course, and dashed off across the plain as fast as his mule could carry him, and soon disappeared among the mequalities of the ground. The shades of night were closing m, and still he did not appear. At length darkness came on, the hunters returned without having seen hun, and the whole thing seemed to be involved in a mystery wliieh we could not explain. A party went upon the hUl, and after kindling a large beacon fii-e, dis charged vollies fi-om their rifles for a long time, and then a torch was prepared, wliich was left standing. But all was in vam. Time slowly wore on, the roll was called, guard set, and no one lay down that night upon his hard bed, without an anxious feeling for the safety of our brave old pioneer. Distance sixteen mUes. MAY 16. The morning came in gloomily ; the sky, though calm, was shrouded m clouds, and anxiety on accomit of Mr. Greene brought every man to his feet at the earliest dawn. A volunteer jjarty of six men started out in search of him, resolved to spare no exertion m ascertaining his fate, and to find him, if within the range of possibility. Another party, under the direction of our noble captam and Mr. Snelling, our wagon master, set to work on the bridge, over which we were to cross the stream, but 40 LIFK ON THE PLAINS. gloom generally pervaded our camp, and a party was left on the look-out from the hill for our old pioneer. About eleven o'clock a shout arose from those on the look-out, and the old gen- tleman made Ms appearance over a knoll. The word was passed, " He's coming," " He's coming ! " All rushed from their labors to welcome him, and a treble round was fired as afue de joie for his safe return. It seems that upon approaching our camp In the evening, he recognized his son, the captain, but at the same time an antelope started up near him, and he thought it a capital chance to have a shot, and although he had eaten nolliing since early in the morning, with the hardihood of a true western hunter, he started off in pursuit. The foolish animal, instead of quietly waiting to have his skin bored with a bullet, led him a cbise of two or thi-ee miles, and succeeded in gettmg away, and he lost the ■Qirection to our camp. With perfect composure he took the saddle from his mule, and wrapping liimself m his blanket, lay down, with no music but the howling of wolves to lull him to sleep. The rising sun showed him his true direction, when he mounted ^id rode into camp, much to our relief. Upon his coming in, a second party was sent out after those who were in search of him, and it was not until night that our company was all re-united, to talk over the " mistakes of a night," and laugh off" the effect which the strange course of events had produced upon us. The imcertainty of our position gave all a feeling of anxiety on the subject, and our oi'derly sergeant, John Traverse, vol- unteered, with Morrell, to go out and explore the country in the direction of the road. They walked in a southerly direc- tion about fourteen miles, and returned at night, without making any discoveries as to our lociility, and ])rought the unwelcome intelhgence that they had not found the road. Eidge after CROSSED WYETh's RUN. 41 ridge was passed, creek after creek was forded, without success, until the declining sun admonished them to return ; Init it was still resolved to continue our west-south-west course. Some of oui' men were successflil in catcliing fish, and we were enabled to add another luxury to oiu" meagre fare. Dis- tance nothing. MAY 17. The bridge being completed, we left our excellent camp- ground, crossed the stream, and passed over a charmmg bottom of more than two miles in width, before we reached the high table-land of the prairie on the south. Although our anxiety to x'each the road was great, we were in good spirits and not daunted, for fifty able bodied men, well armed .and pro\^ded with the substantial comforts of lile, were not to be easily dis couraged. Wild onions gi-ew in abimdance on the bottom. They were about the size of a hickorynut, and covered with a kind of close net-work, which is stripped off like a husk, leaving the onion clear and bright, and equal m flavor to any I ever ate. Signs of buffalo began to appear, and we passed several skeletons wMch were bleaching on the plain, but we saw none alive of the family with the " r'al hump, tail, honis and all.'' We were strongly impressed with the idea that this was a glorious country for the mastodon and all sorts of mammoths to curvet in, as there was plenty of room, and I made the fol- lowing memoranda : " If we see signs of any before we reach the road, wliich is quite likely, I'll make a note of it in my journal." The water was execrable. Distance fifteen miles. CHAPTER III. BIG NAMAHA LOST RUN TIIE BIG BLUE DRY WEED FUEL NO WATER PRAIItlE DOGS ONION FAMILY TABLE LAND S. 8. COURSE ROAD FOUND NINETEEN DAYS ON PRAIRIE COMPANIES OF GOLD SEEKERS LITTLE BLUE SAND HILLS — 'VALLEY OF THE PLATTE MUDDY MISSOURI FORT KEARNY ST. JOSEPH ROAD UNITED COLDER ATMOSPHERE MEETING OLD FRIENDS CAPTAIN TUTT INDIAN COMPANY THE FORT WILLOW SEVERE RAIN STORM. Since leaving the Missouri we have seen scarcely any rock. Occasionally, where the bluff was worn by the water, gravel appeared, and near the head of the Big Namaha a few granite boulders appeared scattered around, and still higher on the Little Namaha their strata of limestone schist appeared. When we forded Lost Run, probably a tributary of Wyeth's, the bottom of the stream was a dark limestone shade, and this was the only appearance of rock up to tliis point, perhaps two hundred miles from the Missouri. For days not a gravel stone was seen in the deep, rich soil of the prairie, and instead of the fme gi-avel beds of our eastern brooks, here we found nothing but quick-sand or mud. The water of the streams was softer even than rain water, though very palatable, yet we were fi-equently compelled to resort to holes in the hollows, and in sloughs, for this hidispensable article, when at a distance from streams. Tha soil is a rich black mould, well suited for wheat, DRY WEED FUEL. 43 hemp, and cereal grains, but the scarcity of timber and stone is a great impediment to its immediate settlement. There was no indication of coal within the scope of my observation, but twice in the Namaha country I observed appearances of iron. We found the coimtry duruig this day's drive very level, and a httle after noon we reached a plam, where there was not a tree or slu'ub, nor a sign of Hfe except our own traui, as far as the eye could extend. Tlie glare of the sun upon the dis- tant plain resembled the waves of a sea, and there were appear- ances of islands and groves, from the effect of the mirage. Towards the hour for our noon halt, Ave passed the height of table land which turned the waters in the direction of the Big Blue, and we began almost imperceptibly to descend. The grass was dry and scanty, there was no water in sight, not even a slough, and the soil was thin and light — decidedly the poorest wliich we had seen since leaving the Missouri. Badger holes were numerous, and occasionally our hunters brought an animal of' that species ui, which we found quite palatable. As we were about making up our minds to pass the night without water and grass for our cattle, while ascenduig a slight elevation a broad meadow, two or three miles in extent, lay before us, in which was a fine pond. Captain Greene had advanced about a mile beyond this, and reported another smaller meadow and pond, and being anxious to get as far as we could, we drove on to it. For the last few days the rosm-weed had disappeared, and oiu" fiiel was dry weeds and buffalo excrement, which served us quite well to boil our coffee and fry our bacon. We had been able to keep a direct course through the day, from the nature of the country, and made a good drive of eighteen miles. 44 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. MAY 19. The country resembled that of the previous day, with no water except occasionally in sloughs ; and as we looked over the broad expanse of prairie, till earth and sky seemed to blend, we coidd not repress a feeling of loneliness. We passed during the day a large town of prairie-dogs, but its inhabitants, having notice of our approach, did not vouchsafe their presence to wel- come us, and we gamed no information with regard to their peculiar manners and customs. The little hillocks which mark- ed their abodes stood arranged in regular order, with streets about twenty feet wde, crossing at right angles. Notwith- standing we had no fuel but such as has been previously men- tioned, and that scarce, our appetites were so keen that we could have devoured our bacon — aye, perhaps a young prairie- dog, A^dthout the usual process of cookmg ; and had an elephant made his appearance, we might have been able to have masti- cated one of his tushes by way of dessert. We observed a rich pink flower bloomuig fi-om bunches of a bright green color, from which many of our men formed nosegays, for its fragi'ant odor. After a while some of them had the cuiiosity to taste this rare jilant, and found it to be nothing more or less than wild cives, of an excellent quality, when in a moment, the nosegays were throv\ai aside, and a supply of this member of the onion family gathered for our evening meal. Upon halting at night a foot-race excitement was got up, and many trials of speed were made among the younger por- tion of our company, but the long legs of Kent Thorne ran off with the palm. Distance to-day, sixteen miles. MAY 20. Our road, like that of yesterday, was over liroad table-land. THE ROAD FOUND. 45 and we were able to keej) a direct south-south-west course. But where the dickem was the St. Joseph road ? Where were we ?— and where had we been ? We had now been out nme- teen days upon the wUdemess. Our object in taking this new route had been to save time, and of getting m advance of other trams; and the question naturally arose, Had we. succeeded ? Had we gained anything by our erratic course ? For the last three days we were enabled, from the nature of the country, to make a direct Ime towards the road. When traveling between the Namahas, we supposed that we were within five or six miles of the road, and since then we had made an actual southing of more than fifty miles without reaching it; and as far as we could see, and frequently our hunters were out four or five miles from the train, there was no mdication of it. Anxiously we drove on, witli "hope deferred," wishing that the next knoll would bring the long wished for object to our vision. This feeling was shared by all, when, about four o'clock, our captain who had rode ahead four or five miles, was seen riding toM'ards us at full speed, swinging his hat joyfully, when a shout w.i« raised, "The road is found; the road is found!" and a thive tunes three was given, and our loud huzzas testified the joy of us poor Israelites, who had so long been lost on the prairie wilderness. We encamped on a fine bottom near a pretty creek, a mile fi-om the road, and a camp of emigrants was reported below us to which Henderson repaired, and learned that a large numl>er of wagons were ahead, and that we were only an hundred and fifty miles from St. Joseph. From the latter plac^ we had been actually traveling twenty-four days, nineteen of which were upon the prairie, to reach this point ; while the trains that had come by the road, direct, had come through without difficulty in 46 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. eleven days. Tliis was gaining time and getting ahead with a vengeance ! But we hoped that this error would not be again repeated — a hope which eventually was found illusive, and which led to hardsliips and suffering, notwithstanding our present ex- perience in deviating from well Iuioami and beaten tracks. Distance sixteen nailes. MAY 21. Our desh-e to be upon the road induced us to be stirring early, and we were moving as soon as our cattle had eaten their fill, when a drive of a mile placed us upon the great thoroughfare of the gold seekers. For miles, to the extent of vision, an animated mass of beings broke upon our view. Long trains of wagons with their white covers were moving slowly along, a multitude of horse men were prancing on the road, companies of men were trav eling on foot, and although the scene was not a gorgeous one, yet the display of banners from many wagons, and the multitude of armed men, looked as if a mighty army was on its march ; and m a few moments we took our station in the line, a component part of the motley throng of gold seekers, who were leaving home and fi-iends far beliind, to encoimter the peril of mountain and plain. To us it gave great relief, after being so long in uncertainty, and although we were strangers, yet there was a fellow-feeling in having one pursuit in common, and we drove merrily along, givmg and receiving accounts of our various adventures since leaving Missouri. About noon we reached the point of the Little Blue where we were to strike across the plain to the Platte, a di^-tance of twenty -three miles, and ordinarily without water, but we VALLEY OF THE PLATTE. 47 I'eceived accounts as we were about filling our water casks, that the late rains had filled the sloughs so that it was unnecessary to carry water with us. We also ascertained that for the last three days we had been traveling across a portion of this iden- tical dry plain, and had it not been for the rains, we must have suffered greatly, and ten days later, we must have been deprived of water on that route. We took the precaution to thi'ow wood on our wagons, and at night encamped where there was plenty of grass and water. Distance eighteen miles. MAY 22. A little before noon we saw the grass-covered sand hills which bounded the valley of the Platte, and we were some hours in ascending the gentle slope to them. It appeared to me that fi'om the time we left the Little Blue, we were gradu- ally ascending, so that the Platte seemed really to flow through higher ground than the tributaries of the Kanzas ; and that should a canal be cut from the Platte, it would descend to the Blue through a series of locks. As we rose to the apex of the last hill, the broad valley of the Platte lay before us, as level as a floor, and the great artery of the Missouri, vrith its turbid, muddy waters, a mile in width, divided by Grand Island, came in sight. Here, too, was a scene of active life. Here the road from old Fort Kearny miited with the St. Joseph road, and for the whole distance in view, up and down the river, before and behind us, long trains were in motion or encamped on the grassy bottom, and we could scarcely realize that we were in an Lidian coimtry, from the scene of ci\alized life before us, and this was all caused by the magic talisman of gold. What will be the end ? Who can foresee our future destiny ? On leavhig the Blue and approaching the Platte, we felt a 48 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. great change in the atmosphere. ^From being warm, it be- came so cold that overcoats were necessary for comfort. I felt the premonitory symptoms of fever creeping over me, and was compelled to get into the wagon, being too weak to walk, and it became apparent that a thorough course of medicine was necessary to break my predisposition to bilious disease. The chill, however, passed off. When we arrived at the point of the hill above the valley, I observed a train coming in from the Kearny road, which I thought I recognized. Drawing nearer, I felt certain that it was a company from South Bend, Indiana, led by my friend Captain C. M. Tutt, with whom I had parted a month before at St. Joseph. Our OATO train stopping for a noon halt, I mounted the pony and rode over to them, when I found it really was that com- pany, and that by a singular coincidence, we had thus met at a distance of more than three hundred miles from where we last parted. Dear reader, if you would duly appreciate the pleas- ure of meeting old friends, just make a trip on the plains, and you will understand our joy at seeing old and familiar faces again. They had left St. Joseph and crossed the Missoui-i at Fort Kearny, some thirty miles above Harney's, the route we at first intended to take, where they had quietly lain for twelve days, and then had reached this point by a well-beaten road in eleven days, wlule we were boxing the compass, and wearying our legs on the prairie for nearly a month, in doubt and anxiety as to our position. By Captain Tutt we learned the probable cause why we had seen no Indians in our transit thus far. The Pawnees and Sioux were at war, and kept close to their towns and strong holds. On the evening of the 19th, a band of eighty Sioux warriors visited his camp. They were all mounted and approached at full speed, each armed with a BAND OP SIOUX WAKUIOKS. 49 gun, bows and arrows, lance, tomahawk and shield. Not knowing what theii* intentions were, he went alone towards them and motioned them back. They were coming up abreast, when they instantly dismounted and sat down on the gi'ound in a line, and the chief beckoned Captain Tutt to approach, and on his doing so, he arose, took him by the hand, which was followed by every warrior in succession, in token of fi'iendship. They informed him that the Pa"«aiees had been up dui'hig the winter into their territory, and had stolen several ponies, and that they were seeking vengeance and reprisals, and exhibited five or six scalps as a proof of their prowess. They made anx- ious inquiries for a PaAvnee whom they had wounded, but who had escaped. This wounded Pawnee, who was badly shot, four bullets passuig through the lower part of his body, actually came to Captain Tutt's company two days before, and they rendered him every assistance in their power, but Ms pursuers were too close to allow him to remain. He was subsequently diiven to seek refiige in the wagon of another emigrant, who concealed him till his enemies passed, although they came up to the very wagon where he lay to make inquiries. After getting the privilege of cooking their buffalo meat at Captain Tutt's camp fires, and begging a little bread, they peaceably departed. Being too ill to remain long, I returned to my wagon to lay do^vn, and at night we encamped on the bank of the river, about eight miles below Fort Childs, now called Fort Kearny, after a drive of twenty miles. MAY 23. On leaving this morning I felt very ill, and findmg the symp- toms of fever uicreasmg, I called physic back fix)m " the dogs" C 4 50 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. and luxuriated on a large dose of calomel, and when we reached the Fort, was too sick to get up. The Fort was nothing but a cluster of adobe, low, one-story buildings, sufficient for two companies of soldiers, who were stationed there as a check upon the hidians, but preparations were making to erect a horse-power saw mill, as well as to enclose the barracks within a wall. It was situated on the right bank of the river, half a mile from the Avater, and not upon the island as I had supposed, A day or two previous to our arrival, an emigrant was tried here for shooting one of his comrades. He was taking his family to California, and when a few miles beyond the fort, a man offered a gross msult to his wife. In a country where there was no law — where redress could not be had by a legal process — he determined to protect liis o^vn honor, and raising liis rifle, shot the scoundrel down. His companions took liim back to the Fort, (with his consent,) where an investigation into the circumstances was made, and he was honorably acquitted. The banks of the Platte are high sand hills, scantily covered with grass, and present many fanciful shaped cones and broken ridges, which I can compare with nothing else in form than huge drifted snow heaps. The valley through which the river flows is flat- — four or five miles wide ; and the scenery, though pretty, is neither grand nor imposing. There was no wood except on the island, which at this time was difficult of access, and our fuel was chiefly small willows and buffalo excrement — the latter being very plenty. We saw the bones of many buftaloes, but up to tliis time we saw none alive. Distance eighteen miles. MAY 24. The weather was still very cold and imconifortable. 1 felt SEVERE RAIN STORM. 51 better, and was able to sit up a little, and hoped soon to be out again. The morning was rainy, but at the hour of startmg it held up. The wind blew a gale, and about four o'clock it be- gan to rain again, and we encamped. Our tents were pitched on low ground ; deep ditches were dug aroimd, and we thought ourselves secure from the storm. But the rain came constantly in torrents ; the spray beat into our tents as it never had done before, so that we had but a poor protection from the wet, wliile the cold, chilling wind blew a hurricane without, and promised us no very comfortable night. We contrived to get a poor supper with buffalo chips, and at the usual hour stretch- ed ourselves upon our hard beds. I was still weak, and too ill to sit up long at a time, for the fever was still coursing through my veins, and the prospect of speedy recovery, under the pres- ent circumstances, was far from encouraging. Near midnight I awoke fi-om a feverish sleep, and although I had my boots on, my feet felt damp. Drawing them up to get them in a dry place, it seemed as if they rested in one still more wet. I awoke Smith, who was sleeping by my side, and told him the water was coming into oui* bed. " Humph ! " said he, turning over with a ya\vn, " my feet have been in water half an hour ; keep di*y if you can." " Well, that is very consolatory," said I ; " but tlie wind has sprung the tent puis, and it will blow down." " N-no— -I guess not," was his reply — and soon he began his nasal music again, at the rate of nme knots an hour. The rain poured, the Avind still blew a hurricane, and a cor- ner of the tent was flapping " like mad." It was a worse night than that on which Tam O'Shanter outran the witches, and it did seem as if " Wee Cutty Sark" was cuttmg higher antics than usual. King Lear, in the height of his madness, would 52 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. havj been troubled to have got his mouth open to vent his spleen on such a night. To add to the pleasure of the scene, the wind had veered around, and blew directly into the tent through the opening, so that now the rain was driving in upon us. Yet, amid all this uproar without, and the " movuig of the waters " within, my messmates continued to sleep, as if they lay on beds of down. At length Brown awoke, and findmg his feet in water, simg out. " Boys — ^boys ; something's wrong ! " No reply was made, save the deep breathmgs of the weary sleepers. " Wake up ! It's a fact, boys, there's sometliing wrong. John, Kent, Fred ! — don't you hear 1 " Kent finally got his eyes open, and on start- ing up, found one comer of the tent flapping in the gale. Sev- eral of the pms were out, and the poles leaning on one side most mdecorously for a cold-water tent. Kent's cries aroused Fred, who, rubbing his eyes, crawled out of his wet bed to recon- noitre. " It is a fact," he rolled out with emphasis ; " John, Hazel ! — why don't you turn out ? Brown, Smith — what do you all lay there for ? The tent is coming down. Get up, or you'll be drowned." Thus exorcised, they awoke, and thus a cry was raised : " My boots — where are my boots ? Who has got my boots ?" But in the Egyptian darkness of the night, and the confiision of our mess, hunting boots was a bootless job. Hazel went out bare- foot to endeavor to fasten the pins. Morrel stood by with Ms usual vocabulary of expletives ; and Smith still lay in his soak- hig blankets, laughhig with all his might, determined to risk the falling of the tent rather than " bide the pelting of the piti- less storm." CAMPING OUT IN A STORM. 53 " There goes my hat ! " roared Hazel, above the voice of the wind. " Whew ! but I'm getting a baptism now." " Go it while you're young, Hazel," gi'inned Smith. " Down with the pins ! " shouted Brown ; " Don't cut the cords with the axe." " The ground is too soft to hold the puis," echoed Hazel, as one pin after another came out, after being repeatedly driven, and the flapping of the tent mcreased. " The only way is to take to the wagons, boys ; " and all but Hazel and myself made quick tracks for the friendly shelter of their covers. As for me, I lay half stunned, half crazed by the uproar and my illness, and cared not what became of me. Seeing that I did not stir, Hazel inquired, " Come, are you not gomg to the wagon 1 — the rest are all gone." " No," I replied ; " I thinlc I will stay here, I'm well enough off", and feel quite comfortable." " What ! in the rain 1 The tent is almost down, and will fall very soon — you'll die here." " I don't care," I responded, impatiently ; and at that mo- ment I felt that I did not care." " Smith ! " shouted the honest Norwegian, " is the wagon open ? Hold the cover up — Delano is coming ; " and suiting the action to the word, he lifted and canned me through the stoi-m, to the wagon. I could not help laughing at his earnest- ness, and I yielded with a good grace. We went through the deluge to the w^agon, . and ensconced ourselves on boxes and bales, in the best manner we could with our wet blankets. Towards morning the flood-gates of heaven closed, and the rain ceased, but we were much like the mouse bdtween the cat and the dog ; " we could be happy with neither," for it was now 54 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. very cold. Our teeth chattered as if it had bcjii mid-winter ; our limbs shook, and the long, dismal night wor^ wearily away. When morning at length dawned, the boys crawled from their sorry nests, um-efreshed, but glad to be released from " durance vile," to sti'etch their stifiened limbs, and breathe the morning aii\ Poor Fred's lamentation, though different from Rachel's, was quite as heartfelt. " O my wife ! what would she think of rats, could she see me now 1 — drowned rats, I mean. I am half dead ! — I've seen enough of the world. California can't afford a better hurrying place. Here you can smk deep enough without digging ! Halloo ! Delano — what's your opinion f "Humph!" I grunted, from my locomotive roost, — "now gustibus disputandum.'''' CHAPTER IV. A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER ISLANDS IN THE PLATTE INDIAN ROBBERY ^ SOUTH BEND COMPANY TERRIBLE STORM AND GREAT LOSS OF CATTLE FORKS OF THE PLATTE BUFFALO MEETING FRIENDS BUFFALO MEAT FORDING THE RIVER MEN LOST WASHING DAY SERIOUS RESULTS OF A JOKE INDIAN VILLAGE AND BURYING GROUND TINDALl's GRAVE SMITH CREEK COURT-HOUSE ROCK CHIMNEY ROCK THE "pOST office" UNEXPECTED MEETING EMIGRANT TRAINS A PICTURESQUE VALLEY SCOTT's BLUFFS. MAY 25. On crawling out from our sorry nests, we foimd a realizing sympathy from our wandering countrymen composing oiu" train. There was scarcely a tent but what deviated fi'om its upright character, and nearly the whole of our party had been compelled to seek reftige m the wT.gons. The day opened cold, raw and wmdy, and the dri\e was ex- tremely disagreeable. I was shut up in my wagon, suffering intensely from pain, thirst, and feverish excitement, and at night J had recourse to my usual comforters, blue-pill and oil. At evening the wind went doAvn, and the sun showed his glorious face once more, like an old but long absent friend, above the blanket-clouds, and promised a fair day on the morrow. Dis- tance, fourteen mUes. MAT 26. Tlie morrow came, and although there was a heavy frost, the 56 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. sun came out according to promise. The day, for a wonder, was calm, and the genial atmosphere, together with the effect of the apothecary shop in my bowels, made me feel that disease was subdued. During the day we passed a poor fellow who had fallen fi'om his wagon, wliich passed over him, breaking his leg m two places. Doctor Gillespie, of Captain Tutt's company, kindly set it, and the unfortunate man once more turned his fiice home- ward — a long and dubious journey for one m his condition. Distance, sixteen mUes. MAY 2*7. The day, like the one previous, was unexpectedly calm and pleasant — being the only two days of the kind in succession which we had had since leavuig the Missouri. There were many wood covered islands in the Platte, and occasionally a few trees grew on the margin of the river. The banks, which bounded the bottom, were high and broken, and presented many fanciful shapes of cones and nebulae. During the day, two men belonging to one of the accompanying trams, were out hunting, four or five miles fi'om the river, and being a little separated, one of them encountered a band of Pawnee Indians, who ad- vanced in a fi'iendly manner, and after shaking hands ^vith him, gave him to understand that he had no particular use for his arms and accoutrements on their hunting groimd, and that they would take charge of them imtil he passed that way again, hi !-hort, they robbed him of everything, and he was forced to re- turn to his wagon perfectly naked. His companion, who wit- nessed the interesting ceremony from behind a ImoU, took to his heels, and saved his own clothes. Our own hunters came in without meeting either good or bad luck, having killed noth- TERRIBLE STORM. 57 big., aiid were enabled to keep their shirts on their backs— frequently two weeks at a time, without washing. Distance, eighteen miles. MAY 28. The grass which we found last night was poor, and our cat- tle refused to drink the muddy water of the river ; in conse- quence of which they looked tMn and hollow. We therefore encamped early, where there was good forage, and they made up amply what they had lost. My o^vn health improved rap- idly, and I began to feel like myself, though weak. We had traveled for several days near the South Bend com- pany, which gave me the pleasure of being with old acquaintan- ces, with whom we fi-equently mterchanged friendly greetings. Distance, about eighteen miles. MAY 29. We made only a short drive, and in order to recruit our cattle, we encamped about a mile and a half below the forks of the Platte, where the concomitants of a good camp were abun- dant. The scenery along the river varied but little, maintain- ing a general character of sameness. During the night, a ter- rible storm arose — much worse than any we had previously ex- perienced. Although our tent did not blow down, being pitch- ed on firm ground, the water beat in, and sleep was unpossible. Distance, six miles. MAY 30. Morning dawned gloomily enough. It seemed as if a water spout was discharging its floods upon us. Our rain storms at home were only gentle showers compared with this. The wind blew a hurricane, and our cattle, when grazuig, kept moving off 58 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. apparently in hopes of getting away from the storm, and it was. absolutely necessary to keep ch-iving them back almost con stantly to prevent them from straying ofl' Finding it impossi- ble to keep them together, and as they could not eat, fi-om the fury of the storm, we drove them m, where they stood all day under the lee of the wagons, tied to the wheels, — this being the only way that we could, keep them. In tins dreadful storm hundreds of cattle were lost, and some trains were almost ruined ; some lost half, wliile others had only one or two yoke left ; and for several days after, we met many persons who were search- ing for their cattle, unable to proceed. No situation can be more deplorable than that of being left upon a broad prairie, hundreds of miles from aid, without the means of locomotion. We found fanailies, with women and helpless children, m this sad condition, and yet we were without means to give them relief We had only saved our own cattle by tying them up, for it Avas impos- sible for oxen to stand still under such peltings. Many were found twenty-five or thirty miles oft" the road, while others were lost entu'ely, having strayed beyond the reach of the owners, or were stolen by the Lidians. It took us till nearly noon to coolc our brealifasts. Our stoves were put mto our tents, and the covers of boxes, or stray pieces of wood in the wagons, were used to start a fire, and then buffalo chips were heaped upon the stoves until they got dry enough to bum, and m this way we contrived to do our cooking. The comforts of home crowded on our memories, and many a sigh was given for those we had left behind. In addition to our other miseries, some of the cat- tle became foot-sore and lame. In some trains they had to be left, being too lame to proceed ; while in others, rough boots were made, and fastened over the foot in such a way as to keep the dirt and sand fi-om the foot, which was smeai-ed with tar EFFECTS OF THE STORM. 59 and grease. McClasky, McNeil, and Eood, in our train, had each of them one that was lame, but they contrived to get them along, by taking them out of the yoke, and -wrapping up their feet. It continued to rain without cessation tlu'ough the day, and we turned mto our damp beds with a feelmg of cheerless- ness, though not dispii-itcd. Distance, nothing. MAY 31. A cold Avhid blew this morning, the sky was overcast with clouds, and the gloom and air of November, rather than the genial warmth of spring, huiag over us. We left our encamp- ment about eight o'clock, and drove slowly all day. We con- stantly met groups of men, inquirmg for lost cattle, and our own train was carefully scanned, to see if some missing ox had not been replaced by theirs. Air*ong the unfortunate ones, one company, having an hundred head, lost seventy ; another, out of eighteen, lost nine ; and we passed two wagons with families, who had only tlu'ee oxen tied to the wheels. It was a kind of tei'vafirma shipwreck, with the lamentable fact, that the numer- ous craft sailing by were unable to afford the sufferers any re- lief We passed the foi'ks of the Platte, and continued oin- route up the south branch about ten miles to a ford, but hear- ing that there was a better ford still farther up, we continued on, leaving the South Bend company, who concluded to cross here, which they did without difficulty. We saw buffaloes for tlie fost time in considerable numbers, on the opposite side of the fork, and were much amused m see- ing the emigrants, who had crossed, dashing m upon them in gallant style. One was shot m oiu" sight. Not only was the chase exciting, but witnessing it was extremely so ; and as the herd dashod off, we could scarcely repress a desire to be after 60 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. them ; but this was hnpossible, for a broad and dangerous stream was between us. I had now gamed strength enough to walk a little, and being half a mile m advance of my train, I was overtaken by a mule wagon at the top of a hill, which contained Messrs. G. C. Mer rifield, and A. M. Wing — old friends from Lidiana — ^and whom I had not seen for some months. Meetmg thus mider peculiar circumstances, afforded us much pleasure, and getting into their wagon, we passed an hour or two in that agreeable manner, which none but travelers m a wild region, far from home and friends, can appreciate. We were pained to see that many cattle were becoming lame, and that many showed evidences of being hard driven, hi the great desire to get ahead, and the foolish rivalry of pas- si]ig other trains, no rest was given to the cattle. Men placed themselves in jeopardy of beconiuig helpless, l^y imprudence, even at tliis early stage of the journey, where no human aid could be rendered ; and were I to make the trip again, I would make it a point to stop every seventh day, where it was prac- ticable, if from no scraples of conscience, certaualy from dictates of humanity ; and I do not hesitate to declare, that by doing so there would be a saving of time in the end, for both man and beast would more than make up the time so lost, by renewed vigor from rest. We daily saw many cattle giving out from want of rest, and imprudence in driving them beyond their strength, and when they reached the barren plams beyond the Eocky Mountains, many were unable to drag the wagons, even Mer the loads had been reduced, by throwing away all but barely enough provisions to sustain life to the end of the jour- ney. Distance, fourteen miles. FORDING THE SOUTH FORK. 61 JUNE 1. We met many men during the day who were searching for wittle lost during the great storm, and who were helpless until they were recovered. We now had an abimdance of buffalo meat, which, after being so long confined to salt provisions, was a luxury. The meat is coarser grained than that of domestic beef, and not so well flavored, but we devoured it with avidity, and many paid the forfeit of their imprudence by a diarrhoea which followed. Towards night we reached the ford, and en- camped, after a drive of about fifteen miles. JUNE 2. The river is about half a mile wide, with a brisk current, and an uneven bottom of quicksand. Tlie only way a passage could be made was to double teams, and then keep in constant motion, for on stopping the wagon would sink m the sand, and in time entirely disappear. One wagon, to which was hitched unruly or frightened cattle, began to sink, and was only drawn out by hastily hitching on an additional force of well-trained cattle. The deepest place which we found, by taking the course marked out by riding a horse in, only reached to our wagon beds, and by noon we had all crossed without accident. The north bank of the South Fork, which bounded the bottom, per- haps half a mile wide, was high and broken land, and our course was northerly, to the North Fork of the Platte, about eight miles distant. On passing to the ridge between the two forks, we found a broken country, without a tree or shrub, as far as the eye could reach, and there was notliing mviting in its appearance. On crossing the South Fork, we fell in company with a young man fi'om Janesville, Wisconsiui, whose company had 62 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. lost thirty head of cattle in the great storm. He was fortunate enough to find them all about twenty-five miles south of the road. During his search he met a man mounted on a fine horse, who had been looking for lost cattle, but being unsuc- cessfiil, was then on liis return to liis camp, as he supposed. The young man, (Mr. Jenlcs,) told him that he was pursuing an opposite direction to the road, and endeavored to set him right, but he as confidently asserted that he was right, and that Jcnks was wrong. After arguing the point in vain with each other, they parted, and Jenlis reached the road at night, while the im- fortimate horseman was never heard of afterwards, having prob- ably either starved to death, or been killed by the hidians. From the same cause, a man and boy belonging to a Missouri train got lost. The boy, after wandering three days without food, reached the road m a famislied state, but the man was never heard of, and probably perished. We heard of numerous similar mstances, and many an anxious heart at home will have occasion to remember and deplore the great storm on the Platte. Buffaloes were very numerous, and the novelty of seeing them began to wear off! Towards night we descended to the bottom land of the N'-irili Platte, where we found luxuriant grass, and fine ponds ui' water, with dry willows for fuel, and we resolved to lay over one day to rest, after a drive of eight miles. JUNE 8. We took advantage of our leisure m airing our clothes and provisions, and in making all necessary repau-s. Another im- portant matter occupied the consideration, not only of our own train, but of many companies encamped near us. Loading our wagons too heavily with cumbrous and weighty articles, and. ARTICLES LEFT BY THE WAY. 63 with unnecessary supplies of provisions, had been a general fliult, and the cattle began to exhibit signs of fatigue. We resolved, therefore, to part with everything which was not absolutely necessary, and to shorten the dimension of our wagons so that they would rmi easier. To sell superfluous articles was quite impossible, though I was fortmiate enough to find a market for fifty pounds of coffee. Every cmigi-ant was abmidantly sup- plied, and we were compelled to tlu'ow away a quantity of iron, steel, trunks, valises, old clothes, and boots, of httle value ; and I may observe here that we subsequently found the road lined with cast-off articles, piles of bacon, flour, wagons, groceries, clothing, and various other articles, which had been left, and the waste and desti'uction of property was enormous. In this the selfish nature of man was plainly exhibited, hi many mstances the property thus left was rendered useless. We afterwards found sugar on which turpentine had been poured, flour in which salt and dirt had been thrown, and wagons broken to pieces, or partially burned, clothes torn to pieces, so that they could not be worn, and a wanton waste made of valuable prop- erty, simply because the owners could not use it themselves, and were determined that nobody else should. There were occasionally honorable exceptions. The wagons were left un- harmed by the road side ; the bacon, flour, and sugar were nicely heaped up, with a card, directed to any one who stood m need, to use freely in welcome. On leaving home, we were under the unpression that corn meal would not keep on the plains without first being kihi-dried ; that butter-crackers and flour would not keep well, and that our bread-stuffs must neces- sarily be in the shape of hard bread. Tliis we found was a false impression, and that a little care in airing occasionally would preserve meal, floiu", hams, and mdeed anything, as weP 34 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. as in a store room at home. This overh;iuliiig was necessary only in the humid atmosphere of the Platte, and in crossmg the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains. Even this care was not absolutely required, — and, under this mistaken impression, we had deprived ourselves of many comforts. Listead of suffering on the plains, the trip can be made, by taking the proper pre- cautions, with comparative comfort and safety. Up to tliis tune I had had a sufficient supply of clean linen ; but rather than have dirty clothes accumulate, I resolved to try my hand at washing. A number of us took our dirty shirts, and going to a pond near by, commenced our laundry manipu- lations, for the first time in our lives. It was no trouble to throw our clothes into the pond, and rubbing in soap was not much ; but when it came to standing bent over half a day, rub- bing the clothes in our hands, trymg to get out the stains — heigho ! " a change came o'er the spirit of our dreams," and we thought of our wives and sweet-hearts at home, and wondered that we were ever dissatisfied with their impatience on a wash- ing day. Had they been present, we should heartily have asked their pardon, and allowed them to scold to their heart's content. I verily believe our clothes looked worse for the washing thac they did before we began, and my poor Imucldes — oh ! they were sore for a month afterwards. Our estimates were, that sixteen hundi'ed pounds weight on a light wagon, was enough for three yoke of strong cattle to start with from home, and I became afterwards convineed that it was full weight enouo;h. At night two other trains from Illinois encamped near us, in one of which I recognized Mr. Lindley and family, fi:om La SaUe, with whom I had expected to travel before leaving home, but had been prevented by unforseen circumstances. We SERIOUS RESULTS OF A JOKE. 65 spent all agreeable hour together, -when I returned to my camp and turned in. Distance, nothing. JUNE 4. Our cattle felt the benefit of rest, the day was pleasant, and we set out early, in good spmts. Our road lay along the bot- tom of the North Platte, with precipitous hills of oolite rock on our left, while the opposite bank corresponded with that on our side, without a tree or shrub to hide the nakedness of the ground, or relieve the eye from its barrenness. Two hours travelhig brought us to a few stunted ash and cedar trees, with a small cluster of bushes struggling to grow from the rocks. Towards noon I called at an encampment of Missourians, who were lying over to rest, and to attend the necessary duty of airing clothes and provisions, where I found several intelligent and accomplished gentlemen. A serious accident had occurred in their camp the previous night. After the guard had been set, a reckless young scamp, fourteen or fifteen years old, was desi- rous of perpetrating a joke on the sentry. Durmg the middle watch he stole out unperceived, and throwing a white blanket over his head, cautiously approached the guard, who discovered and hailed him repeatedly, but to which he made no reply. The sentinel naturally supposed liim, in the darkness of the night, to be an Indian, whose object was plunder, and receiving no answer to his hail, he raised his rifle and discharged it at the intruder, and wounded liim severely, though not dangerously, as it happened, in the arm and side. This satisfied the young gentleman that he was walking on dangerous gi'ound, and roar- ing lustily for aid, was borne to the camp, convinced that such practical jokes were attended with more danger than fan. About noon we were oljliged for the first time to leave the 5 66 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. level bottom of the river, as a liigli bluff extended its point to the water, and compelled us to make a detour of three or four miles, to pass across it. The wind blew severely, and on reaching the top of the hill a multitude of hats were flying faster than the legs of their owners, and the pastime of running after them was not much enjoyed by the tired pedestrians. We de- scended into a deep and narrow ra\Tne, named Ash Hollow, so called from being covered with a stunted growth of ash trees. The rocks on each side were high and perpendicular, with a sandy bottom, through wliich a little brooklet meandered, made from springs — the first that we had met with since reachuig the Platte, and which entered the river below the ravine perhaps half a mile. Sheltered from the wind by the high banks, the ravine was warmed by the sun, and the cool shade of the trees, as well as the clear water, was delightfully refrcsliing. On coming to the river bottom at the mouth of the ravine, we dis- covered a small village of Sioux Indians. Their lodges were made of tanned buffalo sldns, of conical form, well calculated to resist the action of the weather. Both men and women were better formed than any hidians I had ever seen. The men were tall, and graceful in their movements, and some of the squaws were quite pretty, and dressed in tanned buffalo skins, higlily ornamented with beads, wliUe many of the men wore barely a blanket around then* waists, and one or two of them were quite naked. On our approach, one Of the hidians, who was armed WTith an old sword, made us some kmd of a speech, and mvited us mto a lodge, where he motioned us to be seated. Several squaws were engaged ia making inoccasins, for which they found ready purchasers among the emigrants. Almost the first request made to us was for whiskey, for which I verily believe they would have sold their children — showing conclusively that MEN RETURNING. 67 temperance societies were not yet well organized on the Platte. Of course we had no fire-water for them, and we left them la- mentably sober, and encamped about a mile above them, where several came out to beg bread, whiskey, and shirts. During the evening two young men came to our canap on mules, who had turned their faces homeward without supplies. They said that they were from Indianapolis, Indiana ; that their mules had given out, and that they had determined to return, depending on the charity of the emigrants for their subsistence, which no doubt was fully and freely accorded to them. We availed ourselves of the opportunity to send letters to our fi-iends, to be mailed at St. Joseph ; but these were never received. If they were mailed they were lost by the burning of the mail steamer at St. Louis, as we learned a year afterwards ; and it was many months before any intelligence of us reached home. Dis- tance, fifteen miles. JUNE 5. The day was excessively warm, the road sandy, and the cat- tle labored hard. The bluff began to assim.e a more interesf> ing appearance. The high and precipitous oolite rocks, based upon clay, wliich appeared to be hardening into rock, with deep ravines often brealdng the regularity of the layers, apparently water-worn, which to one accustomed to mountains and high broken hills, might not be particularly interesting, but to those who are used only to the level prairies and plains of the West- em States, were looked upon with curiosity and interest. I now for the first time, was able to walk all day, but at night I found myself completely exhausted, proving that my fiill strength luu3 not returned. Distance, twelve miles. 68 LIFE ON THE PLAINS JUNE 6. The grass where we encamped the preceding night was poor, and our cattle looked hollow, but the day was cool, and a shower during the night had packed the sand, so that the traveling was much easier than it had been the day before. About ten o'clock we came to good grass, when we unyoked the cattle and allowed them to graze. Duruig the afternoon we passed a Sioux burying ground, if I may be allowed to use an Irishism. hi a hackberry tree, elevated about twenty feet from the ground, a kind of rack was made of broken tent poles, and the body, (for there was but one,) was placed upon it, wrapped m his blanket, and a tamied buflalo skin, ^\ith liis tm cup, moccasms, and various things which he had used hi life, were placed upon his body, for liis use in the land of spirits. We gazed upon these remains of humanity, without disturbing any of the ar- rangements ; but I afterwards learned that some Goths from Missouri wantonly cut the limbs away, and let the body fill, which no doubt produced the same impression upon the hidians that it would have done on themselves, had some traveler dug up the body of one of their ovm fi'iends, and left it exposed to the maw of wolves and birds of prey. A short distance from our place of encampment, I observed a newly made grave, upon a green Imoll, and in examining the wooden head board, I found it to be the last resthig place of George W. Tindal, a young man from Tecumseh, Michigan, who had died of consumption. I became acquainted with him on our passage from St. Louis to St. Joseph, and was much pleased with his intelligence and amiable manners. Poor fel low, it was hard to die so far from home, and friends ; and a sick bed on the plains is a desolate place, even when every attention is bestowed that the slender means of travelers can afford. ALKALINE PONDS. 69 Our hunters were very successful, and our camp was abun- dantly supplied with fresh meat, though it produced diaiThcea in many instances. Distance, fifteen mUes. JUNE T. During tills as well as the previous day, we passed many low places, which appeared to be saturated with alkaline parti- cles, and in holes and wells dug by emigi-ants the water resem- bled in color and taste the lye of ashes, but was totally unfit for use, and our cattle would not druik it. As there had been several showers previous to our arrival, it was probably much weaker than it otherwise would have been. The rain thus favored us by reducmg the sti-ength of the alkah in the soil, and preventing its deleterious effect upon the feet of the cattle, which are very liable to become foot-sore ui traveling here. We approached Court-house Rock duruig the day, over a broad bottom perhaps fifteen miles wide, crossing in the mean- time Smith's Creek, the most beautiful stream wliich we had found since leaving the Missouri. It flowed from the hills over a clear sandy bed, and the water was cool and dehcious to our parched mouths, after drinkmg so long the water of sloughs, or that of the muddy, insipid Platte. The atmosphere m this region is of remarkable clearness, for which cause we were unable to estimate distances with any pre- cision. Court-house Eock appeared only about two miles off, when in reality it was ten or twelve. Some of our men set out to walk to it, but as they approached it appeared to recede, and after walking a couple of hours, some retm-ned, while those who finally reached it did not return till nearly nine o'clock at night, having walked steadily for about ten hours. It stood upon a little ridge above the bottom — was of a circular form, TO LIFE ON THE PLAINS. mth an elevation on the top much like a flattened dome, and at the distance at which we stood, it resembled a huge builduig. It was really about two hundred feet high, although from tlie road it appeared only about fifty. Near it, on the east end, was another blimt pointed rock, not quite as high, which was not particularly remarkable, but which is embraced in the same view. Both of these stand isolated on the plain, although a few miles west are bare bluff ridges of the same Idnd of rock — a soft sand and clay, intermixed with lime, easily cut with a knife — all probably of volcanic origin ; and this is the general character of the rock in tliis region. When withm a few miles of Court-house Rock, we came to a ledge called the Post-office, over which we passed. It was full of water-worn fissures, and m one cavity we saw a number of letters dej^osited, for individ- uals who were behmd, and m the rock was cut in cjxpitals, " Post-office." The usual mode of giving intelligence to fi'iends behind, is to write on a bleached buffalo skull, or shoulder-blade. Thousands of these novel commimications lay upon tlie plain, and we fi^equently got intelligence in this way fi^om acquain- tances who preceded us. When we got beyond the buftlilo region, it was customary to write on paper, and slip it into an upright stick, split at the end. About noon we came in sight of Chimney Rock, looming up in the distance like a lofty tower in some town, and we did not tire in gazing at it. It was about twenty-five mUes fi-om us. and continued in sight until we reached it on the following day. We encamped where there was good grass and water, after a drive of eighteen miles. JUNE 8. We traveled all day in sight of Chimney Rock, occasionally CHIMNEY ROCK. 71 over low wet places, containing alkaline earth in great quanti- ties, and so strong that the ground in some places was wliitened with it like a frost. At night we reached a point opposite to, and about three miles from Chimney Rock, where we found the concomitants of a good camp in abundance. The rock much resembled the chimney of a glass-house ftirnace. A large cone-hke base, perhaps an hundred and fifty feet in diameter, occupied two tliii'ds of its height, and from thence the chiixuiey ran up, gradually growing smaller to the top. The height of the whole is said to be two hundred and fifty feet above the level of the river, from wliich it is between three and four miles distant. It is a great cm^iosity, and I much regretted that I had not strength enough to visit it, I think it is decaying from the action of the elements, and it is quite likely that the chim- ney will be broken off in time, leading nothing but its cone to gi-atify the curiosity of the fiiture traveler. The hills in the vicinity present a fancifial appearance — sometimes like giant walls, of massive gray rock, and again like antiquated buildings of olden time. Durmg the day we met many old acquamtances, among whom I was gratified to meet Doctor M. B. Angle, from Mich- igan. The meeting was as agreeable as unexpected, for neither of us knew that the other was a California adventurer mitil we met, far from kindred and fiuends. It was curious to see the quaint names and devices on some of the wagons : the " Lone Star," would be seen rising over a hill ; the " Live Hoosier" rolled along ; the " Wild Yankee," the " Rough and Ready," the " Enterprise," the " Dowdle Fam- ily," were moving with slow and steady pace, with a " right smart sprinkle" of " Elephants," " Buffaloes," and " Gold Hunt- ers," painted on the canvass of the wagons, together with many 72 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. other quite amusing devices. Around the camp-fires at night, the sound of a violin, clarionet, banjo, tambourine, or bugle would fi'equently be heard, merrily chasing off the wearmess and toil of the travelers, who sometimes " ti'ipped the light fantastic toe" with as much hilarity and glee, as if they had been m a luxurious ball-room at home. But when mornmg came, and the day's work commenced, too frequently ill-humor began ; and the vUest oaths, the most profane language, and frequent quarrels and feuds, took the place of good humor, which not unfrequently required all the patience that a quiet man is possessed of to endure. I was much r mused at the remark of a young Missourian, with whom I fell in company one day. hi spealdng of the ill- natiu'e which so frequently presented itself, he replied ; " Yes, if a man has a mean streak about liim half an inch long, I'll be bound if it wont come out on the plains." The Dowdle Family were a company of gentlem-en fi-om South Bend, hidiana, with whom I was personally acquainted, and we met here for the first time on the plauis. Captain Greene and myself went to their encampment, and passed an horn- of the evenmg very agreeably. Distance, twenty miles. JUNE 9. The wmd blew cold and unpleasant as we left our pretty en- campment this morning for Scott's Bluffs, a few mUes beyond. The bare hills and water-worn rocks on our left began to assume many fantastic shapes, and afler raising a gentle elevation, a most exti'aordinary sight presented itself to our view. A basin- shaped valley, bounded by high rocky liills, lay before us, per- haps twelve miles m length, by sLx or eight broad. Tlie per- pendicular sides of the mountams presented the appearance of A PICTUKESQUE VALLEY. 73 castles, forts, towers, verandas, and cliimneys, with a blcudiiig of Asiatic and European arcliitecture, and it required au effort to believe that we were not m the vicmity of some ancient and deserted town. It seemed as if the wand of a magician had passed over a city, and like that m the Arabian Nights, had con- verted all hvuig tilings into stone. Here you saw the minarets of a castle ; there, the loop-holes of bastions of a fort ; agam, the frescoes of a huge temple ; then, the doors, windows, cliim- neys, and columns of immense builduigs appeared in view, with all the soleum grandeur of an ancient yet deserted city, while at other pomts Chinese temples, dilapidated by time, broken chimney rocks in miniatiu-e, made it appear as if by some super- natural cause we had been dropped in the suburbs of a mighty city. For mUes around the basui tliis view extended, and we looked across the barren plain at the display of Almighty pow- er, with wonder and astonishment. These, however, lost their mterest, on approaching them, and like the fabled castles of the middle ages, dwindled down to bare, shapeless, water-worn rocks. Yet days might be spent agreeably in examming them, and I regi'etted that our want of time and my own enfeebled health should prevent my inspecting them more thoroughly. They were composed of volcanic matter, like that of Court- house and Chimney Rocks, marl, sand, clay, and gravel — a kind of volcanic conglomerate, which yielded to the action of the elements, by which they were worn, in the lapse of ages, to their present fantastic forms. Every year, probably, wears them more, and time slowly changes their shapes, and it is not im- probable, that at some former period, even Court-house and Cliimney Rocks were portions of hills which have decayed. At the western extremity of the basm a violent rain storm over- took us, and we hastily pitched our tents. Near us were a 74 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. large num'ber of dead cedars, which served for fuel ; but it was a matter of inquuy where they came from, for there were no trees of their size in the vicinity, and I could form no other conclusion than that they had been washed there by some mighty flood, which had caused the river to overflow its banks, and which must have mundated the whole valley of the Platte. The grass and water were poor, the evening was wet, cold, and cheerless, and moodily eating our suppers, we turned into our hard beds m a sorry humor, which the interesthig scenery around us could not dispel. Drive, sixteen miles. JUNE 10. The morning opened calm, and the bright sun restored oui* good humor, and we made a long drive over a barren, uninter- estmg country, having scarcely any grass, and no good water, for the want of wliich we suflercd. Since we crossed Smith's Run, on the 7th, we have had no good water ; the little wliich we found was muddy and full of impurities, and unpleasant to the taste. We encamped at night by the side of a muddy pond hole, and were compelled to drink it, or have none. Dis tance, twenty miles. JUNE 11. The country was stiU uninteresting, with but little which would conduce to our comfort. A large buffalo bull was feed- mg about a quarter of a mile fi-om the road as we drove along, when being frightened, strangely enough, he started and ran towards us, passing only a short distance in front of our train ; but before the boys could get their rifles from the wagons, he had got out of their reach. A good camp, afl:er a drive of six- teen miles. CHAPTER V. LARAMIE PEAK-LARAMIE RITER-FORT LARAMIE _ SOUTH BEND COMPAW- lOXS-WARM SPRIXGS-COLD WATER CREEK - DiyiSIOX OF THE COM- PANY-HORSE CREEK AND RIOLA BONTA-BLACK HILLS-CROW INDIANS - ROCK RIDGE - A BEAUTIFUL CREEK - ALKALINE DISTRICT _ COLONEL JOSEPH WATKINS-A SUBLME GOVERNMENT- POISON WATER-DEAD CATTLE — FERRY OVER THE NORTH PLATTE. JUNE 12. We ^yGre now approaching Fort Laramie. The country became more broken, though by no means difficult, yet we began to feel wearied with our incessant journeyino- There was a sameness in our daily routine of life, and after°being so long confined to meagre prairie fare, the "flesh pots of Egypt" would occasionally intrude upon our memories, and a sigh for our cupboards at home involuntarily burst forth ; still, all was res- olution, and no one thought of backing out from the underta. king we had commenced. Thus f n- we had gone ^vithout acci- dent, and If our clothes were soiled, and our beards unshaven we had the consolation of thinking that no one could boast over another on account of good looks. About ten o'clock in the morning we were upon a ridge, when suddenly we got a view of the snow-capped head of Laramie Peak, fifty or sixty miles ta, and became aware that we were approaching a spurof the Rocky Mountains. A drive of seven miles from our en- campment brought us to Laramie River, where we found a 76 LIFK UN THE PLAINS. multitude of teams, waiting their turn to cross a swift and not safe current. It became necessary to raise our wagon boxes about six inches, in order to prevent the water flowing in and wetting our provisions. We here found Captain Tutt's com- pany and the Dowdle flimily, who had got ahead of us, waiting their turn to cross. The passage was made in safety, although I lost two pails wliich were hooked to my wagon. Fort Lara- mie is simply a trading post, standing about a mile above the ford, and is a square enclosure of adobe walls, one side of which forms the walls of the buildings. The enti'ance mto the court is through a gate of sufficient strength to resist the Indi- ans, but would be of little account if besieged by a regular army. Its neat, white-washed walls presented a welcome sight to us, after being so long from anything like a civilized build- ing, and the motly crowd of emigrants, with their array of wagons, cattle, horses, and mules, gave a pleasant appearance of life and animation. Around the fort were many wagons, Avliich had been sold or abandoned by emigrants. A strong, heavy wagon could be bought for from five to fifteen dollars. In ordinary seasons the company were able to keep some small supplies for emigrants, but such was the rush now, that scarcely anything could be ob- tained, even at the most exorbitant prices. Here was a deposit for letters to be sent to the States, and thousands left letters for their fi-iends, to be deposited by a messenger in some post-ofiice beyond the Missouri, on which the writers paid twen- ty-five cents. Although many of our company placed letters in the keeping of the ostensible agent, not a single letter ever reached its destination. We afterwards found such agencies among the traders on the road, and paid several quarters and halves for their delivery, yet none ever went through, and we SOUTH BEND COMPANIES. 77 were compelled to believe that it was a deliberate fraud, per- petrated on the emigrants. Fort Laramie stands in a valley, on Laramie Eiver, surrounded by high, broken land, and in the distance are seen spurs of the Black Hills, which are off- shoots of the Eocky Mountains. A mile below the ford the river empties into the Platte, and at this point the road fi-om Coiuicil Bluffs unites with that fi-om St. Joseph and Independ- ence. We made but a short stay at the fort, and drove about a mile, when we overtook the Dowdle and South Bend com- panies, at their noon halt by the road side, and after weeks of weary traveling, it was extremely pleasant to meet so many old fiiends and acquaintances, so far fi-om home, in a wild, In- dian country. In South Bend they were a well-dressed, clean- shaved and good-looking set of men, with civilized notions of good order and propriety ; but now they belonged to the great unwashed and unshaved family of mankind,who spumed "Day & Martin's blacking," and rose soap, as of no account ; while their uncombed locks, their ragged unmentionables, their sun-burnt faces, made them look as if a party of loafers had congregated together, to exliibit their contempt of civilized fashions. Aaid, alas ! my old, gi-easy, buckskin coat and outre appearance pro- claimed that I was an anmial of the same species. Yet, as rough and weather-beaten as we were, our meeting was of the most cordial kind, and hilarity and good feelmg animated us all. On joining them, I was offered a piece of pie and cheese. Ye gods! Pie — veritable dried apple i^ie, which Charlie Lewis made with liis own hands ! — and although his own mother might have turned up her nose at it, to us, who had literally fed on the " salt " of the pork barrel for weeks, with pilot bread for a dessert, it was a perfect luxury. My stay with them was brief, for our train went on, and I 78 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. was compelled to follow, though with the hope of often travel hig in their company. We toolt a road over a high hill on the west, and about ten miles west of Fort Laramie we saw the first outcrops of sandstone and limestone which we had ob- served since leaving the Missouri. There we encamped, with- out water. To get this for cooking purposes, Henderson took a pail and went a mile and a half to a luke-warm spring. Show- ers were falling on the hills all aroimd us, and the night closed in wet and uncomfortable, and we retired to our couches ill at ease and dispirited. Drive, seventeen miles. JUNE 13. The morning dawned somewhat more propitious, and the day was calm and clear. Mr. Fredenburgh had symptoms of ague and fever. A few days before reacliing Fort Laramie, Smith had taken cold in one leg during a noon halt, by laying on the damp groimd in a hot sun, and it had now become swollen, and so painfiil that he could not walk, and he suffered much. There was no way left for him but to get mto the wagon, thus increasing the weight of the load at least an hun- dred and fifty pounds. I was now able to walk most of the day, though riding occasionally when the gi'ound was favorable, and I exerted myself to give him a chance to ride — a measure for which I afterwards received little thanks at his hands. About a mile and a half fi-om our encampment — perhaps half a mile north-east fi'om the road — we came to the warm spring, gushing out from a limestone hill, and the most of oiu* thirsty cattle drank the water ft'om buckets, though many would not touch it as it ran afi* from the fountain. Our course lay through a narrow gorge nearly all day. Towards noon we came to a beautiful creek of mure, cold water, DIVISION OF THE COMPANY. 79 and we followed it several miles up a wooded bottom, crossing it twice — our cattle fording it. It was a perfect God-send to them, and it truly found much favor with ourselves. At night, however, we were miles beyond it, and encamped where there was but little wood, and no grass or water, and concluded that here we should be obliged to pass the night, like travelers on a desert, destitute of the choicest blessings of heaven. We had not even a drop of Avater left in our canteens, to wash down our hard bread. While we were gloomily submitting to our fate, with tongues already parched for want of moisture, a cry was heard on the hill above, " Water, water ! Water is found !" Captain Greene had gone over the hill about a quarter of a mile, and made the discovery of a small spring, and the announcement completely changed the complexion of things in our camp. In a moment, stoves were taken down, fires lighted, and men with buckets on their arms were seen going swiftly over the hill ; there was a rattling of dishes, and active prepara- tions for cooking going on, and instead of going supperless and tealess to bed, our evening meal passed off as usual. After supper a consultation was held, at which it was resolv- ed to diA-ide our company, on account of procuruig forage more readily, for we often found places where a small number of cattle could be supplied, while there was scarcely enough for so many together. Tliis proposition was generally acceded to ; however, among so many men it would be strange if any course should not be opposed by some. The Avisdom of the measure, however, was afterwards abundantly proved, for we certainly got along with much less difficulty. Captain Greene continued in command of eleven wagons and twenty-nine men, and Mr. Fredcnburg was elected to direct the movements of the remain- hig six wagons and twenty-one men I fell in with the lot of 80 ■ LIFE ON THE PLAINS. the latter, and though I submitted with the best grace I could, I parted from Captain Greene with regret, for liis modest, un- assuming manner, and his sterling good sense had made me much attached to him. John Traverse was selected for our wagon-master, and as everything disorderly was at the moment voted a bore, the rest of us resolved ourselves into a company of orderly privates — a condition which was not fully sustain- ed by all tliroughout the journey. Drive, fifteen mUes. JUNE 14 & 15. But little occurred during these two days which possessed sufficient interest for a jounial. The scenery contmued much the same, and on the 14th we encamped on a pleasant bottom, well supplied with the concomitants of a good camp, after a drive of fourteen miles. On the 15th we crossed Horse Creek and the Eiola Bonta — tw'O beautifiil streams of clear water, with pebbly bottoms. We had been in advance of the South Bend trains, but they passed us to-day. "We came upon a tract of red ochre earth, which extended several miles, and it was so highly colored that it stained our clothes, while the road in the distance appeared like a stripe of red paint fi-om the high points. At about eleven o'clock, after a gradual ascent nearly all the momuig, we came to the ridge of the Black HUls, which we were to cross, and follow on the west side for several days. From this height we commanded an extensive view of the countiy, which was much broken and nearly destitute of tim- ber ; and the earth, particularly the broken bluffs, were highly discolored with red, ocherish earth. The Black Hills were a lofty mountain ridge, bristling with gray rock, and sharp, point- ed fir trees, and seemed to be a mighty wall, elevated as a CROW AND SIOUX INDIANS. 81 boundary line between hostile countries. In fact, we had pass- ed the Sioux nation, and had entered the territory of the Ci-ow Indians. Between these two people there is a marked differ- ence, wliich we observed to increase in the various tribes as we journeyed on towards the Pacific Ocean. The Sioux are a tall and handsome race ; the Crows are much darker, and not so tall, nor well formed generally. They seem to be a connecting link between the Asiatic and the Atlantic tribes. As we passed over the spur of the Black Hills, and descend- ed to the western side, we came into a kind of valley, through which flowed a creek of clear water, and a short distance b© fore we reached it, we came to a plat of white pumice-stone, wMch abundantly proved the country to be volcanic, if other proof was wanting. This pumice was white, and easily broken by a stone, and one could well fancy it the centre of a huge caldron, boiling and bubbling, from the effect of vast, internal fires. Along the margm of the creek stunted treen beautified the scene, but around it all was barren, lileak and desolate. It is the opmion of many that this is the crater of an extinguish ed volcano ; but whether it be so or not, (and it is quite differ- ent from any I have ever seen,) it is quite probable that at some former period there has been an irruption of fire. Smith's leg was very painfull, and he suffered extremely from every jolt of the wagon, and we had but slender means for ma- kmg him comfortable. Captain Greene's company, (which I shall designate as the Dayton company,) passed us to-day. Ours took the name of the Ottawa company. At night we en- camped on a grassy plat, surrounded by high liills, but afford- ing no water ; nevertheless we had secured enjugh in our kegs to answer the purpose of cooking. Drive, sixteen miles. D* 6 82 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. JUNE 16. How many beautiful creeks, and limpid streams of jjure, cold water have I passed at home with scarcely a notice, while the deep shade of some pretty grove has often passed unheeded. How men change with circumstances ! Li passing tln-ough this desert country, over the barren liills, a clear, running stream is hailed with delight, and long remembered for the relief it gives the thirsty traveler ; wliile a small cluster of stunted ash and willow bushes, charily scattered about on the banks of a brook, is a perfect oasis, for its cooling shade in the glarmg, summer sun. We foimd one such during the sultry day, and it made an. impression on our memories never to be forgotten. Our road was not as hilly as that of yesterday, but the scenery of the Black Hills, at whose base we were traveling, was pecu- liar and romantic. A high, narrow, rocky ridge was on our left, many hundred feet high, which stood like some nondescript monster, bristling at our approach ; wliile peculiar lesser hills in various forms, attested the force of volcanic action. Near our camp a perfect cone of fine-gramed sandstone had been thrown up sixty or eighty feet high, which almost looked as if it had been formed by the hand of man, so regular and perfect was its shape. The stone was of a beautiful kmd — some of it much like the Missouri oil stone, and our men picked up some fine pocket whet-stones, wliich gave a delicate edge to their knives. We encamped near this singular cone, the soil around being highly colored with ochre, but affording little grass and poor water. It became necessary to lay over a day, to give our weary cattle rest, and mdeed we needed it for our- selves ; and as we were now but about six miles fi-om the North Platte, we felt sure that upon its level bottoms we should fmd plenty of grass and wood, wliile its turbid stream would fur- #. A BARKEN DESERT. 83 uish US with good water. We determined, therefore, to lay- up on reaching the river, and retired wdth this pleasing antici- pation m view. Drive, sixteen miles. JUNE 11. " We know not what a day may bring forth.^'' "We had been toilmg five days, over rugged roads, scantily supplied with grass and good water, so essential to our comfort, yet feeling a certainty that on reaching the Platte these would be abundantly supplied. We accordingly took an early start, so that we could reach the destmed point in good season, to lay by and rest. The day was sultry ; yet, weary as we were, we di-ove on with spirit, passing Fourche Boise, a beautifi.il creek, where we refreshed our parched mouths, and then hurried on over the liills to the valley of the Platte, some two or three miles beyond. On descending tlie hill to the bottom, instead of the good grass and promised rest, we found a barren soil that bore only weeds, which our cattle could not eat, and a sandy road which doomed us to another day of toil and disappoint- ment. There was no help for it, and we were compelled to go on all day, with the naked Black Hills peering down upon us, like goblins, laughing at our way-worn wretchedness, and ap- parently deriduig our search for gold, m the language of Mao- beth's ^vitches : " Double, doiible, toil and trouble, Fire burn and caldron bubble." Pshaw ! If our caldron is fiill we'll upset it, and begin anew : so drive on, Hazel. Ho ! for California. We came to another alkalme district on reaching the bot- toms of the Platte, much stronger and in greater quantities than ^•4 LIFE ON THK PLAINS. we nad previously found. The soil from the bluffs to the river was filled with this efflorescence, and the whole country was barren and wortMess for agricultural purposes. It is difficult to judge of the character of men on the road by external appearances. A Mexican hat, a beard of twenty days' growth, an outer covering soiled with dirt and dust, a shirt wliich may have seen water in its youth, will disguise any one so that he may look like a ferocious brigand, wliile at the same time his heart may be overflowing with the " milk of human kmdness." During my mornuig walk, before reaching the Platte, I overtook an elderly man, who, judging from his ap- pearance, had seen some life on the plains, and whose outward habiUm.ents were more likely to proclaim him a well-digger than a gentleman and a scholar. With the ease with which travelers on the plains become acquainted, we commenced con versation with little ceremony, and instead of liis being a plain country pumpkin that I had at first set him down for, I found ' him to be a scientific man, a gentleman of education and re- search, and assuredly a most agreeable traveling companion, despite his Cahfornia costume. Colonel Joseph S. Watkins, now fi'ora Missouri, but lately from Mempliis, Tennessee, had been a large conti'actor in the Navy Yard at Norfolk, Virginia, and previous to removal to Tennessee, had been a member of the Vii'ginia Legislature for twenty-one years, and at one peri- od of his public career had Avielcled a great influence in the pol- itics of his native State. He had been actively engaged in busmess during an eventful life, and his connection with soni'^. of 'the most distinguished men of our country, gave liim a fiind of anecdote ; and I scarcely knew which most to admfre, his decided talents, or his prominent pliilanthropic goodness of heart, which he exliibited tlu-oughout our conversation. He % A TRAVELING REPUBUC. 85 gave me an amusing account of his setting out from Mis- souri, with a company from Tennessee. They were seventy strong, having a republican and military fomi of govGrmnent, a constitution and by-laws, a president and ^dee-president, a legislature, three judges, and court of appeals, nine sergeants, as well as other officers, who, by their laws, were to be ex- empted from the performance of camp duty by virtue of their dignified stations — leaving it for the plebeians and common soldiers to do the drudgery of camp duty, and of standing guard at night. All this read very well on paper, and quite to the satisfaction of those who were to be exempt from labor, but reduced to practice, it was not strange that it produced mur- muring, which ripened into actual rebellion. Tliinkmg it smacked too much of favoritism and aristocracy, the Colonel petitioned the legislature for an amendment of the constitution, which, after much discussion, was decided to be out of order, as it was not presented in due form by an honorable member of that august body ; and no member was found vvalUng to pre- sent a petition which compromised his own privilege. This led to an open rupture, and the Colonel withdrew, after holdhig up the folly of their course to view, followed by thirteen wagons, and which finally ended in the dissolution of the government of the traveluig republic, whose legitimate business it was to guard against the thieving hidians. Thus this sublime govern- ment fell to pieces by the weight of its own machinery aiid ex- clusive i^rivileges, I laughed till my eyes nui over at the Colonel's ludicrous description. We learned that there was a ferry across the Platte about twelve miles above our place of encampment, which we had to cross, and that there were hundreds of teams waiting their turns, and that several days must elapse before ours would 86 ■ LIFE ON THE PLAINS. come. In addition to tliis agreeable news, we were told that the grass in that vicinity was exhausted, and that many cattle were dying for want of food. A hard drive during the day, over a sandy road, brought us to a point where there was but little grass ; and much fatigued, we encamped, near nightfall, after a diive of eighteen miles. JUNE 18. There were no fords on the North Platte, and crossing was effected by means of ferries of a somewhat primitive character, and it was desirable to ascertain sometWng relative to the means and chances for getting to the opposite bank. It was decided, by a consultation the previous evening, that Mr. Fred- enburg and myself should ride on this mornuig, and find out how the transit was to be made. Accordingly, after hastily swallowing a cup of coffee, Mr. Fedenburg on old Shab, and I on McNeil's mule — a second edition of a double-geared saw-mUl — set out about sunrise for the ferry, about tw^elve miles higher up. The road resembled that of the previous day, except it was rather more broken, and the valley of the North Platte became more undulating. A few miles fi*om our encampment, on descending a hill to some low meadow-land, near the margin of the river, we observed a notice posted up on a board by the road side, which read as follows : " Look at this — look at this ! The water here is poison, and we have lost six of our cattle. Do not let your cattle drink on this bottom." The water was so abundantly charged with carbonate of soda, that cattle soon died in conse- quence of drinkuig it. I may as well observe here, that fi-om this time until we left the Humboldt, or Mary's Eiver, many weeks afterwards, we were obliged to use great precaution in POISON "WATER. 87 allowing the cattle to di'ink ; and never, before we had ascer- tained the character of the water. Many times we had to dfive long distances to find good water, and frequently to guard our cattle at night to keep them from drinlvuig. It was almost certain death to them, unless a remedy was immediately ap- phed. Tliis was either vhiegar, or bacon, or both, forced down their tliroats, which seemed to neutralize the alkali in their stomachs. Saliva would flow fi-eely from their mouths ; they soon began to swell, and grow weak and trembling, and would fall to the gi'ound, and in a few moments expire. Noticing but the utmost vigilance saved our cattle ; for, after bemg di'iven all day, in a hot sun, it was almost impossible to keep them from tlois deleterious water, on being turned loose at night. We often found good and poor water near together, and it was to direct them to the pure water that demanded our care. The grass which grew on the alkaline soil could readily be distin- guished by its lighter green color ; but this did not appear to injure them. Within about three mUes of the ferry, we observed a com- pany of men buildmg a raft on the river bank, half a mile from the road ; and, riding down, we ascertained that we could have the use of it after they had ferried their own train, with two or three others. This might detam us a day, and it was judged expedient for me to ride on to the ferry, to see what chance there was there of gainmg time ; and I therefore rode forward, while Mr. Fredenburg remamed, to stop our train when it should come, until I repoited. On ani%'ing at the ferry I found about two hundred and fifty wagons, among which were Captain Tutt's and the Dowdle family, from South Bend, waiting their turn to cross, wlule the number was augmenting by constant arrivals every moment. About four miles still farther up was 88 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. another ferry, established by the Monnons. I learned that there was quite as many, perhaps more emigrants, to cross at that point than here, so that our turn would not come for seve- ral days ; and I judged that our quickest way would be to try the raft below. I found that at least forty head of cattle were lying dead near the ferry, from the effects of di'inkmg alkaline water and want of food, the grass being nearly consumed, as had been reported. The mode of ferrymg yras by lashing tliree small canoes to- gether, which were sufficiently buoyant to sustain the weight of an empty wagon. A rope long enough to reach across the river was fastened to each end, and a number of men on each side pulled it back and forth, the strong current making it slow and laborious work. Each company furnished its own ropes, and pei'formed all the labor, and for the use of the canoes paid five dollars each wagon. Tlie proprietor of the feiTy was from New Orleans, and a melancholy mcident will appear in its proper place with regard to Mm, wMch occurred soon after we crossed the river. When he reached this point, thinking it a speculation, he resolved to stop and establish a ferry for a time — sending his family on, with the mtention of overtaking them. He was coining money m the operation. While I was there, a man was drowned by fallmg out of the canoe, being swept down by the swift cuiTent. The cattle, horses, and mules, were swum over to the opposite bank, and very few accidents occurred to them, though occasionally one was drowned by being carried to where the bank was too steep to get out. I rode back to the raft, and found our train just arrived, and all hands makmg preparations for crossing. A rope was at- tached to each end of the raft, in the same manner as to the canoes, and it was found capable of sustaining the weight of a DIFFICULT FERRYING. 89 loaded wagon, while tliirtj or forty men on each side pulled it back and forth quite expeditiously, and with perfect safety. The work went briskly on for awhile. By some mismanage- ment, however, one of the ropes was broken before our turn came, after crossing thirteen wagons ; and all attempts to get the line across again that night, proved abortive. Our train was thus compelled to remahi on the south bank till moniing. This de- tention was scarcely a loss ; for notwithstandmg the labor of ferrymg was severe to us, our cattle had the benefit of rest, al- though the grass was poor and scanty. Distance nine miles. CHAPTER VI. OVER THE NORTH PLATTE — "WAGON ON THE CURRENT MULE TRAINS BAND-STONE CONE ANTELOPES AND WOLVES DRY POND BALER ATUS POISON WATER ENCAMPMENT IMMENSE NUMBER OF EMIGRANTS THE RED BUTTES SAND ROCK WILLOW SPRING TIMELY HOSPITAL- ITY INDEPENDENCE ROCK SWEET WATER RIVER INTENSE HEAT PERPENDICULAR ROCK RIVER THROUGH THE CHASM DEVIL's GATE SHOOTING A DESPERADO MYRIADS OF CRICKETS. JUNE 19. There were many trains congregated here, and the number increased hourly — it having been understood that means of crossing existed, poor as it was. As there was but one raft, and the line was not yet replaced, considerable delay was oc- casioned. Many men showed much hardiliood in swimming the strong current, in their endeavors to carry the line across ; and it appeared that the success of the previous day was more the effect of good luck in this respect than a want of energy. All trials this morning were abortive, when Bro\vn, of our mess, mounted a strong horse, and at length succeeded by great effort in carrying the rope to the opposite shore, and by noon it was again ready. It was stretched to an island, from which to the main shore was a ford that could be passed without much difficulty. The crossuig proceeded well ; but a little after noon the wind blew a gale, and the wagon covers acted as sails. FERRYING THE NORTH PLATTE. 91 The raft being confined by the rope, frequently dipped so much that the wagons were in danger of sliding off into the stream. SeeuTg this, I removed the cover fi-om my wagon, as did many others, and they were ferried over in perfect safety. One man, from New Jersey, neglected this, in spite of the remonstrances of his friends, and when in the middle of the river, the wind against his wagon cover acted like a lever, raising one side of the raft till the wagon slid off" into the water. It floated down about half a mile, when a shai-p tui-n in the river brought it to the bank. Two wheels were secured, out of which he rigged a cart, and saved a portion of his provisions — though in a dam- aged state, not utterly ruined. He had to deplore his careless- ness, without much sympathy from those aroimd. The supreme selfishness of men was exhibited in a palpable manner here. Our men worked very hard yesterday, in helping two mule trains across the river, on their assurance that they would reciprocate tliis morning, by assisting us. No sooner were they across, than like the lying fox in the fable — who, at the bottom of the well, persuaded the foolish goat to come doAvn, that he might climb out on his horns — they hitched up their teams and drove off, leaving us chagrinned at their faithlessness, and vexed at our credulity. Listcad of following their example, our men toiled on to aid those who assisted us, and it was not till night-fall that we all met on the mam shore, where our tents were pitched. Our cattle swam across safely to the island, and on the main shore we found a plat of gi'ass — better than we had seen for many days. Another company, who had been unable to cross, got their cattle over, and among them, two fine cows, which they desired to have milked ; when our wagon master, Jolin Traverse, volun- ^eei-ed to perform the agreeable duty. Stripping off his clothes, if'i LIFE ON THE PLAINS lie prepared to wade to the island, where the cows were feed- ing, observing, " We'll go it to-night, hoys ! Let us have a rousing dish of mush and milk, and a feast fit for the gods once in our lives." Our men had not yet all come in, and we de- termiBcd to give them an agreeable surprise. Wlule Traverse was gone, I put a large kettle of water over the fire, and made mush enough for half of the company. There was plenty of dry wood, and as the evening was chilly, we built a roaring fire, and when the boys came m wet and hiuigry, we sat down wath tin cups, pail covers, basms, and everything that would hold milk ; and a more luscious feast I never enjoyed. The pail was full of milk — the kettle fiall of mush — the boys full of fun, notwithstandmg their hard labor — and with full stomachs, we closed the labors of the day. AU around, the countiy bore evidences of volcanic action — Trap rock, in the dark moimtain which was frownmg over us on the south ; cones of burnt sand-stone, scattered about — some as they appeared to have been originally formed, others worn into fantastic shapes by ram and the action of the ele- ments — and knolls covered with black, burnt gravel. There "were several immense cones, which appeared as if their tops had been smoothly and evenly cut off, or had been built as watch-towers by ante-dHuvian giants; while fi^om the Black Hills to the skirt of the River bottom, were two ridges, wliich resemble immense even embankments, for railroads or canals, so perfect were they in form. The soil was barren, with scarcely any grass. The vegetation was wild sage bushes and prickly pear — the latter inconvenient on accoimt of its thorns, for man or beast. The sage is a scraggy shrub, generally fi-om two to four feet high, with a stem from one to three or four Inches in diameter, though in a few instances I have seen it in DRY POND OF SALERATUS. 93 particular situations, ten feet high, with a trunk twelve inches in diameter ; though this is unusual. It has a leaf which re- sembles in smell and taste that of the plant cultivated m oiu" gardens, but is much stronger and more bitter. It grows in barren, sandy groimd, and burns freely, and for many hundred niiles, is almost the only fuel which the traveler finds. With- out it he would be compelled to dispense with fire on the vast wastes beyond the western prairies, and on the sand plains be- yond the Platte. Distance, one mile. JUNE 20. The grass had been excellent, and our cattle had enjoyed the benefit of rest, although we had been hard at work. Tliey ti'aveled finely tliis morning. Our road lay along the bottom for four miles, when we were compelled to diverge to the right on account of a mountain, wMch approached near the river a little beyond the ferry above us. Wliile the train kept the road in the valley, I went out to the hills, and kept along in a line parallel to the road. I foimd deep chasms of vitrified rock, and it was often laborious traveling. I foiuid little to repay me for my toil, except frightening a herd of antelopes, and putting a pack of wolves to flight. A short distance before I came to the road, I discovered a jDlat, or dry pond, white with an incrustation of carbonate of soda, or salerar tus, several inches thick. It was several acres in extent, and probably a thousand wagon loads could have been gath- ered. We frec[uently used it in making bread, and it an- swered quite as well as that wliich had been manufactured and brought with us ; indeed, it seemed to be quite as fine. The utmost vigilance was required to keep our cattle fi-om it, whenever we halted for the purpose of letting them graze. The 94 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. whole of tliis sandy region seemed to be filled with it. It ex- udes from the hill sides and the bank of the river ; and the water along the margin of the river in places tastes of it. Good water was scarce, and we found it only at intervals in springs, at the distance of eight or ten miles. Leaving the river by ascending a long hill, w^e found the country barren and worth- less ; even the wild sage was knarled and scrubby, and could scarcely gam a foothold. The Black Hills were still in view on the south, occasionally showing white spots of snow in hollows, and sparsely covered with pines. Diverging from the river to cross the hill, it was a late-noon halt before we again reached it, after a fatiguing drive of perhaps eight miles, through deep sand, under a burn- ing sun. About four o'clock, passing the Mormon ferry, where we saw the valley dotted with the white covered emigrant wag- ons, we reached the point where we were to leave tlie Platte for the Sweet Water River — a distance of forty-five miles ; and ascending a hill nearly a mile in length, we gazed for the last time on the moimtain walls of the Black Hills, as they stretch- ed away toward the Rocky Mountains, and the sterile and arid soil which bordered the stream. We found an encampment beyond the ridge, about two miles from the river, near two large ponds of poison water ; and to supply ourselves and cat^ tie with drink, we were obliged to follow a lateral valley to the river. Grass scanty and poor. Distance, sixteen miles, JUNE 21. Leaving our encampment early, we drove over a barren, undulating country, and reached the Red Buttes about noon. We found a small creek flowing through a narrow valley, where there had been good grass, but wliich had been mostly con- IMMB^fBE NUMBER OF EMIGRANTS. 1)5 sumed by the trains which preceded us. Although I speak particularly of our own train, and of the events which came under my own eye, the reader should bear in mind that there were probably twenty thousand people on the road west of the Missouri, and that our train did not travel for an houi without seeing many others, and hundreds of men. For days we would travel in company with other trams, which would stop to rest, when we would pass them ; and then perhaps we would lay up, and they pass us. Sometimes we would meet again after many days, and others, perhaps, never. As near as we could ascertain, there were about a thousand wagons before us, and probably four or five thousand beliind us. Tlie Red Buttes are three isolated mountains, south of us, between the road and the Platte, large portions of which are of bare rock of a bright red color, showmg the effect of volca- nic fii'es in produchig an ochre tint. They are singular and intei'estmg in their appearance. The country aroimd was a des- ert, with water only at long mtervals, without grass, and not a tree to afford shade from the burning rays of tlie sun on the sandy soil ; and not only ourselves, but our cattle, suffered much from thirst during the day. About four o'clock, we came to a singular outcrop of sand rock, standing up in per- pendicular strata like a huge wall of more than a mile in length, and so perfect m its arrangement, that it seemed to be the work of art rather than an accidental formation. Under one portion of this, as well as in the bank of a little run of brackish water, I discovered bituminous coal of an excellent quahty. We were compelled to drive between t^venty-five and thirty miles, m order to get gi-ass and water ; and it was after dark before we reached a little, narrow brook, where we could slake our tliirst. It being three miles farther to Willow Spring, be- 96 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. fore we could find grass, and our fatigue so groat, we concluded to unyoke our cattle here for tlie night. Several trains, like ourselves, had been hurrjmg over this desert ; and although we- were the first to arrive, in fifteen minuter, there were fifty tents or more around us, and their camp-fires of sage bushes glared up in the darlaiess, and made it look like the encamp- ment of an army. All were anxious to reach the Sweet Water^ where, we were told, travelers' comforts existed in profiision ; and we longed to taste an element which we felt must be re- freshing, after drinking tlie nauseating waters of the muddy Platte. Wearied with our long march, we slept soundly, after a drive of at least twenty -five miles. JUNE 22. At the earliest dawn, the hungry cattle were yoked, and we followed a narrow, ascending valley about tlu'ee miles, till we came to a beautiful spring, from which flowed a pretty brook, fruiged with willows, named Willow Spring. The soil, irriga- ted by the water, bore excellent grass, and we halted to refresh our cattle, and to get breakfast fbr ourselves. After a halt of a couple of hours, we drove perhaps two miles to the top of the ascent, when, through the pure air of this barren region, we obtained a charming view of mountain scenery. Looking across an undulating plain, the Sweet River Mountains appeared to be only six or eight miles distant ; but it was after noon the following day before we reached them — probably a distance of thirty miles, hi the distance was a pond of water, more than a mile in circumference, wliich we afterwards found to be highly alkaline, and totally unfit for use. The river, al- though between us and the mountains, could not be seen. Af- ter diivhig about fifteen miles, the train reached a creek, the HOSPITALITY IN THE DESERT. 97 watei-s of which, though poor, could be used, and we stopped for a noon halt. Supposing the company would come on, after eating a slice of raw bacon and a biscuit of hard bread, I walked on through the burning sand, the day being mtensely hot. I was eager to reach the river to obtain a draught of good water ; and it was not until I was on an elevation, about thi'ee miles ahead, that I discovered they had not moved, and that they evidently intended to remain through the day. Tlie labor of retracing my steps, fatigumg as the road was, I could not think of; and I had about concluded to trust luck for a bed •and supper, when I fell in company with a Mr. Marks, a young gentleman belonging to a company fi-om Hennepin, Illinois, under the command of Captain Ham, who had ridden back a couple of miles to find a horse-shoe, so valuable was such an article here. He kindly invited me to go on to the river and share a bed with liim in their tent, which I embraced with much pleasure. We overtook the Hennepin train after proceeding a few miles, it being near sunset before we reached the river. There was not a tree or shrub to mark its course, and although it flowed through a plain, the mcqualities of the ground pre- vented our seeing it until we were almost upon its bank. It is perhaps eighty feet broad, fordable at this season at almost any point, and its waters, though not entirely clear, were so much purer and sweeter than those of the turbid, muddy, and insipid Platte, that it richly deserves its name. My first impulse was to take a long, deep draught of its refreshmg water, and then to bathe my aching feet. Tlie train encamped m a depression on its bank, and in a short time the tents were pitched ; camp-fires were burning brightly ; supper was prepared, and with a glori- ous appetite, I 'sat dovra to a rich feast of antelope steak, and enjoyed, with a double zest, a good meal, tlu-ough tlieir kmd E 7 98 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. hospitality. Dear reader, if you are an Epicure, for heav- en's sake, walk to California across the plains, and you will learn to enjoy with a zest you know not, the luxury of a good meal. Near our encampment, and immediately at the ford, stood Independence Rock, a huge boulder of naked granite, forty or fifty rods long, and perhaps eighty feet high. It stands isolated upon the plain, about six miles from the mountains on the right, and three from those on tlie left. It is not difficult of access on its southern point, and may be ascended in many places on the east. In a deep crevice on the south, is a spring of ice-cold water — a perfect luxury to the thirsty emigrant. Hundreds of names are painted on its south wall, and among them I ob- served some dated 183G. Fatigued as I was, a hyena might have tugged at my toes without awaking me, for I had pad- dled tlu-ough the sun and sand twenty-two miles. JUNE 23. I parted from my Heimcpin fi-iends with regret, and while they moved on, I waited for our o^vn train to come up. As they had about ten miles to drive, I made an excursion to the mountain range on the left, which appeared to be only a mile distant. I walked fast one hour before I reached the base, and instead of finding the gi-ound level, as it appeared to be from Lidependence Rock, it was gullied and broken. From the principal range, a spur extended in a point to within half a mile of Independence Rock, and gradually wore down to a mode- rately elevated point on the plain. I ascended tliis at the base of the mountain. It was, I should think, two hmidred feet liigh — a bare pile of rocks, with deep chasms and cre^^ces ; and although the ridge seemed to l)e level fi-om the valley belo-w, when I reached the top, I found it so difficult to get along over GREAT NATURAL CURIOSITY. 99 the scraggy rocks, and deep chasms — it being necessary to leap the latter, or descend and climb out — that I was glad to go to the bottom and take the more even surface of the gi'ound below. Our train came up and crossed the river just as I reached the end of the point, and made a halt for noon. After our dainty feast of raw bacon and hard bread, we drove on about five miles to a gap in the mountains, over a deep sandy road. This gap is a narrow pass, which seems to have been caused by a separation of a point of the Sweet Wa- ter Moimtains, where it unites with the Platte range. Passing through the gap, as through a huge gateway, a fine valley is opened to the view, with the Sweet Water meandering through, with bright green grass bordering its banks. On the right, as far as the eye could extend, a wall of gray granite rock, nearly perpendicular, ranged along, and on the south the rugged peaks of the Platte glittered with snow, and made us cast many a wishful glance at it, bringing forcibly to mind the deliciousness of an ice lemonade in the scorchuig sun which was pouring down upon us, the ray's of wliich were rendered more intense by the reflection of the hot sand. About fifty rods below the mouth of the gap, a curiosity indeed presented itself. The river has apparently broken througn the mountain, and passes through a chasm of perpen- dicular rock, probably over tkree hundred feet high. It was evidently done by volcanic force, for the blackened, bui-nt rocks which lay around, and a dyke of black trap rock which had been forced up m the granite on the right wall, showed that it had been subjected to intense heat. The river flowed through this singular chasm nearly a quarter of a mUe, quite through the mountain, when it again entered the valley which we had just left. At the base of the wall we found the remains of a 100 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. mountain sheep, or ibex, which had probably been driven oft' from the top by the wolves ; but his strong horns and stiff" neck were not staunch enough to protect his life against such a force. Sam Patch himself, the prince of juinpers, would hardly have ventured his carcass in naid air from this wall. There were large quantities of yellow mica in the stream, and as it was determined to timi everytlmig into gold that was possible, some of our boys insisted that this was ore, but an application of nitric acid instantly dispelled the pleasing hallucination, and proved that Sweet Water valley was not the valley of the Sac- ramento. Large masses of saleratvis, several inches thick,, and very pure, were found on the plain around, and it is not neces- sary for the emigrant to lay ui a supply of this useful article any farther than to this pomt. The smgular chasm which the Sweet Water passes through, has not maptly acquired the soubriquet of Devil's Gate, and it did seem as if his Satanic majesty had been cutting queer antics in this wild region. We encamped about a mile above this entrance, where we found excellent grass, and all the concom itants of a good camp. " Honor to whom honor is due." The evening previous to our arrival at Devil's Gate, a man was shot under peculiar circumstances. An emigrant named Williams, from Plymouth, Marshall county, hidiana, had talien a stranger into his employ at St. Joseph, who was anxious to get to California. It proved, after they got beyond the limits of law and order, that this man was a perfect desperado, and, as he aft;erwards acknowledged, was traveling under an assunaed name. Some difficulty occuiTed between him and Mr. Wil- liams, on accomit of the latter reproaching liim for being remiss in his duty, when he threatened to take Mr. WilKams' life, and it was regarded at die time as an idle threat ; but subsepuently SHOOTING A DESPERADO. 101 it appeared that he was deteraiined to put liis threat into exe- cution, and Williams, fi'om the advice of his friends, kept out of the way as much as possible, and at night slept either out of the camp, or where his enemy could not conunit the deed. The man, whose name I have forgotten, continued his threats in such a manner, and sought so palpably to carry them mto effect, that Williams, who was a quiet and peaceable man, came to the conclusion that there was no safety for himself but to anticipate his antagonist. At this time, the man was de- tailed as one of the night-guard, and Wilhams was to relieve him. The hour of relief came, when, on approaching Williams, the latter took his pistol and shot him down. The man lived two days, and confessed that it was his intention to have killed Williams, and that he should have done so, if he had had an op portunity. In the monung, Williams went to several trains and offered to give himself up for trial, but upon a just repre- sentation of the facts by his company, he was honorably ac- quited, on the gi'ound of self defence, where a judicial investi- gation could not be had. Distance, seven miles. JUNE 24. We continued m our camp until noon, and then moved on eight miles, to a point where we should leave the river for ten miles before we came to it again, and as there was neither grass nor water in the interval, we deemed it advisable to lay over till morning. There had been no rain smce the l^th, and the cloud of dust was intolerable. But the scenery was interesting. The naked granite wall on our right, without a green thing to laide its bare sides, and the high mountains on the left, jDrcsenting a variety of midulating forms, kept our eyes upon them m won- der, and made us almost forget our weariness. As soon as the 102 IIFE ON THE PLAINS. road turned from the river bottom, toward the more elevated plain, we came in contact with the sage ; and here, too, were myriads of crickets, wliich were crushed by the wheels of our wagon as we passed along, the sight of which produced a feel- ing of nausea. Distance, eight miles. CHAPTER VII. VALLEY OF THE SWEET "WATER WIND RIVER TOILS OF THE EMIGRANT RENCOUNTER TORE ATENED ICE IN THE DESERT PRAIRIE DOGS, ANTE- LOPE AND MOUNTAIN SHEEP "ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS " TRA- DING POST FRAUDULENT POST-OFFICE A BEAUTIFUL PROSPECT ASCENT TO THE SOUTH PASS FACE OF THE COUNTRY GREAT NUMBERS OF DEAD CAT- TLE SUFFERING OF THE EMIGRANTS AN OLD SETTLER A MAN ACCI DENTALLY SHOT SOUTH PASS OVER THE MOUNTAINS A LAST LOOK HOMEWARD DISBANDING OF TRAINS. JUNE 25. Our road still lay along the peculiar and interesting valley of the Sweet Water ; but at this point we left the river, and for ten miles there was neither gi'ass nor water, and the deep sand and dust made the traveling extremely laborious. Long trains of wagons and of animated life, as usual, varied the wild scenery ; and had it not been for excessive weariness of long travel, we should have enjoyed it with mfuiite zest. It is not, on the whole, surprising that the ill tempers of men should be called forth, and be exliibited in their worst features, m a journey of this kind. It almost daily happened, that when the day's journey was perforjned, we were tired enough to sink to rest without attempting to do more ; but the moment the place of encampment was reached, much labor remained to be done. Our tents were to be pitched, our cattle driven out to graze, and a guard set to prevent their straying, or drmking poison water — wood and water must be prociu-ed, for which 104 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. •we were often obliged to go a mile or more ; and then a fir« to be built of buffalo excrement, or sage, or both ; our suppers to cook, the dishes to wash ; and then, a portion of our mess, in regular turn, to spend part of the night watching around the camp, to prevent the inroads of Ladians, — all this added to our weariness, it was impossible that words or actions should al- ways flow in the same even and smooth tenor. Bickerings and Ul-humor would frequently break out in all the trains, and sometimes lead to unhappy consequences. Still, I may safely say that there was perhaps as little among our own men, with two or three exceptions, as in any train ; and on the whole we got along passably well, with the thousand and one petty an- noyances to which we were subjected. Duiing our drive in the early part of the day, on gaining a slight elevation, we obtained a view of the lofty Wind River Mountains, covered witli snow, at an apparent distance of thirty or forty miles. They are much higher than those of the Sweet Water, and present a magnificent appearance. On the north side of the road stood a bare, isolated rock of granite, sloping like a roof, which, though not as large as Independence Rock, was something of a curiosity, from its immense size. In the bare granite range on the right was a mountain rock many miles distant, which resembled a castle with a dome, and it looked lUce the strong-hold of some feudal baron of olden time ; but as we passed on, it soon changed its appearance to a shape- less, broken mass of granite. At night we again reached the river, where a new road had been made through a singularly gloomy gorge in the northern moimtains, tlirough which the river flowed. It was reported to be the best road, although it was necessary to ford the river four times ; but it was said thai by this route we should avoid a heavy sand road, and we VALLEY OF THE SWEET WATER. 105 therefore thought we would take it. The grass, though not abundant, was passably good. Distance, fifteen miles. JUNE 26. ' We crossed the river at the first ford, and entered the rocky- gorge through which the river flowed, and proceeded about a mile to the second ford. A narrow pathway had been cut in the bank, capable of admitting but one wagon at a time, and the ford was so deep that every wagon box had to be raised about six inches from its bed to prevent the water from flow- ing in. The ford was crooked and bad, and a large number of teams were in advance of us, which would detain us till noon before our turn would come to cross. Under the circumstan ces we judged it best to return and take the old road, which was described as being sandy and hard. We accordingly faced about, and on reacliing the road and leaving the river, we found about four miles of sand road, but the rest of the way was good, and the distance was no greater. We gained tune, for on reaching the point where the two roads united, at a diytance of eight miles, we found ourselves meeting trains which had been a day ahead of us, and they represented that the road by the gorge was not good, and that the river had to be crossed four times by deep and bad fords, which delayed them. The day was excessively warm, the dust deep, and the cloud wliich arose fi'om the passing traiias rendered traveling extremely unpleasant. There was no water for eight miles, and while the sun was poiu'ing liis burning rays down upon us, we observed showers on the mountains to the south. A peak, apparently about four miles distant, was white with snow ; and some of our boys in their ignorance insisted that it was a ledge of wliite rock. On the spur of the moment, w^hen we halted for noon, I volunteered E* 106 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. to go and bring some into camp. By the consent or rather request of young Thorn, who had an interest in the pony, I mounted old Shab and started off As I started, Morrell, who also claimed an interest in the pony, but as it afterwards prov- ed, only held a sort of quasi possession, ordered me to dismount. This proceeded only from ill-feeling towards me, from an im- aginary insult which he asserted I had given him at home, long before I knew him, and for wliich he vented his spite m a con- tinued series of insulting acts and bitter language, better becom- mg a billingsgate felon than a man of sense, when I was sick and helpless on the plains. I refused to obey, having the con- sent of an actual o\vner and worthy man, when he seized his rifle, and with the impulse of a maniac, began to approach me, raving like a madman. I was armed with a revolver and a double-barreled gun, and had he made an assault, I should most surely have shot him down, unless he had been beforehand — a course in wliich I afterwards fomid I should have been upheld by the company — for his abuse had been so glaring that he had rendered himself disgusting to every one, and all wondered that my patience had held out so long. But he stopped in his mad career, retiu'ned to his wagon, and I slowly and deliber- ately rode off, thankful that, notwithstanding his constant prov- ocation, I had not shed his blood. About two miles from the road the plain began to be broken, and on reaching the mountain I followed up a gulf, wliich was thickly luied by dwarf fu's and underbrush, through which a little brook ran, when I was suddenly bi'ought to a stand by a high, perpendicular wall of rock, with snow many himdred feet above me. I got a shot at a herd of antelopes, but was too poor a marksman to kill one, and set out on my return. I had gone but a short distance when I was overtaken by a heavy hail ICE IN THE DESERT, 107 storm, and was completely drenched. Shivering with cold, and wet to the skin, I went on towards the road in the dii-eclion of the train, when I came to a fine brook of sufficient capacity to turn a mill. Tliis I followed 'down to witliin a mile of the road, where it sank into the earth and disappeared in the sand. I learned, on reaching the train, that there had been no rain in the road, and that they had seen no brook, or a sign of water, but that the day had been intensely hot, and the road dry and sandy. I followed the train and overtook it about four o'clock ha the afternoon, on the borders of a morass, perhaps a mile m length by half a mile in breadth. Some of the boys, thinking that water could be easily obtained, took a spade, and gomg out on the wild grass, commenced digguig. About a foot from the sur- face, mstead of water, they struck a beautifiil layer of ice, five or six mches hi thickness. Mail)' trains were passing at the time, and all stopped and supplied themselves with the clear, cooling element, and buckets vrerc brought into use to supply ourselves with frozen water for our supplies. Tliis natural ice- house is not only a great curiosity in itself, but from it peculiar situation, in this diy, barren, sandy plain, is justly entitled to be called the diamond of the desert. To the unsopliisticated this may look like a traveler's tale, but it is easily explamed upon natural principles. Wc were now at an elevation of about six thousand feet. The morass was either a pond, or a combi- nation of springs, covered with turf or swamp grass ; and at tliis high altitude the temperature of winter is very severe, converting the water of the morass to solid ice. Although the sun of summer is mtensely hot in those mountain valleys, the turf and gi'ass intercept the mtensity of ilis rays, and prevent the dissolution of the ice, on the principle of our domestic ice- 108 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. houses ; thus a kind Providence affords a necessary and indis- pensable comfort to the exhausted traveler in these dry and barren regions. We were now on a plain, sixteen miles distance to water. The sage hei-e attained a great growth, being as high as iny head, and the trimk frequently six inches in diameter. I ob- served a new species of prairie dog, or it may be, a connecting link between the prairie dog and groimd squirrel. They are about the size of the latter, with much the shape of the former, and burrow under the sage bushes, to which they fly on the least alarm. We found them so numerous at some of our en- campments, that vre could knock them over with sticks, and the boys amused themselves in killing them with pistols. They were very flit and oily, but, on being parboiled and roasted, were quite good. Many days afterwards, when traveling down Bear River, I saw a man who was traveling to California on foot and alone, who lived upon them entirely, except what the charity of the emigrants afforded liim. Ilis manner of killing them was to shoot them with arrows from a bow which he carried, as he walked along. Antelope were plenty, and di-oves of mountain sheep, or ibex, were upon the hUls. We made about six miles on the sixteen mile stretch, when we encamped, with none but alkalme water, and scarcely any gi-ass, and it re- quired all our care to keep our cattle from straying in search of food, and to prevent them from drmking the fatal water. Drive, eighteen miles. JUKE 2Y. As our cattle were sufferbg for want of forage, and our own supply of ice-water was exhausted, we left our encampment at daybreak, in order to reach the river as early as possible, and. A nONEEll's TKADINa POST. 109 passing over the sandy plain, which varied but Jittle in its char acter from that of the preceding day, we gained the river about ten O'clock, where we found the concomitants of a good camp. Our wagon-master, Traverse, was one of the best marksmen in the company, and during our morning ti'ansit he made an excursion on the plain with his rifle, and brought in two young antelopes, and while our hungry cattle were turned loose to pick up their own rations, we regaled ourselves on antelope steak and Jews' abomination (bacon.) After a three hours' halt we pursued our way up the valley, over the point of a long hill, crossing the river three times du- ring the aflernoon. The fords were easy, as the I'iver now was little more than a fine creek. The road was excellent ;. the mountain wall less marked ; and for the first tune in many days we found an encampment where there was an abundance of fiiel, water and grass. There Avas a large quantity of yellow mica in the sands of the streams, and m all of its affluants, and some of our men could hardly relinquish the idea of its beting gold ; but, alas ! the application of nitric acid dispelled their pleasant dreams, and proved that California was, in the language ofKhorner, " Not yet — not yet!" Distance, nineteen miles. JUNE 28. We had encamped near a temporary trading-post of a hardy pioneer. Half a dozen cloth and buffalo-skin tents stood near each other ; two or three wagons, belonging to the chief, and his handful of goods were in a tent by themselves. Being in- vited into the grand lodge, I was sm-prised to find a fine carpet spread on the ground, a comfortable camp bed, several chairs, among which was a nice cushioned rockmg chair, several vol- umes of standard l)Ooks, and last though not least, a rather 110 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. pretty and well dressed American woman, with an easy, pleas- ant address — the companion of the gentlemanly proprietor of the post. Of course my old, soiled, buckskin coat and weather- beaten hat had to bow before the majesty of female uifluence, and I felt a blush of shame mantling my cheek as I thought of my squalid appearance. In the company were several Spanish woman, of mixed breeds, and attaches, with most villainous looks, and it seemed strange that a woman of her apparent character, could be content to pass her life in such a wild coun- try, and among such an uncouth set of companions. But as there is " no accounting for taste," I am not disposed to moral- ize on the subject, and let it pass. A sign stood near the road, labeled " Post-Office," vnth. a notice that one of the company was about leaving for the States, mid would carry letters, &c., &c. — " price, half a dollar." Many a half dollar was left, but those letters wliich oui- com- pany lefl^ for their fi'iends never reached them, and it was only a pleasant ruse to gull travelers, and " raise the wind." Upon ascending a hill of nearly two miles in length, a fine view presented itself to our vision. On our I'ight, twenty or thirty miles distant, the Wind River Mountains, extending from beyond the South Pass into Oregon, were mingling their snow- white crests with a rich drapery of clouds. On our left, and partly behind us, as the road momentarily changed our direc- tion, lay the gi-anite cliffs of the Sweet Water, fading away in the dim distance, while east of north, a broad undulating plain spread out for many miles, with occasional buttes or solitary hills, rising from its surface. Before us lay the hills which still marked the course of the valley of the Sweet Water, while on the elevated plains were piles of rock and stones, thrown up by volcanic force, which looked, at a distance, as if they had been GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE COUNTRY. Ill gathered by the hand of man. Occasionally, m the liollowi^ heaps of snow glittered in the sunlight, and as we gathered it we found it most refreshingly cool, while perspiring in the sultry heat of the day. The ascent to the South Pass of the Eocky Mountains is so gradual that we perceive no difference in the road ; and had we not been assured by mathematical demonstration that such was the fact, we could scarcely have believed that we had been ascending since leaving the Missouri. The rarification of the air, which now began to be apparent in our short breathings, on going over hills, was often attributed by those unacquainted with the true cause, to some unaccounta^ ble failure of strength. The flice of the whole country from the Black Hills to the South Pass is peculiar and interesting. High table elevations, with flat surfaces ; solitary conical mountains, with flattened tops ; spurs, like huge embankments for rail-roads or canals, running at angles from the mam ranges, may here be seen. Red earth- column buttes seem to rise from the plain — the granite hills often assuming fantastic shapes wliich cannot be described, with here and there barren sage plains, and ponds of carbonate of soda. These are the general characteristics which mark this strange portion of the world. Antelope and buffalo are very numerous ; and lizards and crickets, crawling in vast numbers over the burnuig sands, are the principal varieties of insect life wliich the traveler sees. The hidians are warlike and treach- erous, and the solitary traveler may tliink himself well oft', if, after being robbed, he escapes with his life. We passed many dead cattle during the last ten days. Their death was generally attributed to weariness and bad water, but my impression is that there existed another cause, which was generally overlooked, and that was the rarification of the air. 112 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. On diivhag up long and steep hills, we became almost breath less. The cause was suggested to our company, and we often stopped to give our cattle a chance to breathe. Many did not use this precaution, and cattle and mules sometimes drop[)ed do^\^l in the harness, exhausted. We saw more dead cattle the first day after crossing the Pass than at any other time, until we reached the Great Desert. This, with hard labor and scanty food, must have been the cause. An express rider passed to-day, who told us that there was an immense throng behind, and that at least a thousand wagons were detained at the South Platte, on account of a sudden rise of the river, which prevented fording. He informed us that there was a vast amount of sickness and suffering amonff them ; the grass was consumed, and many of the cattle had perished for want of food. To us their prospect seemed cheer- less enough, for a great part of the way along the North Fork, aud up to our present advance, the grass barely afforded suste- nance to the trains already passed, and we were sometimes compelled to pass two miles out of the road to find forage. None would be left when they came along. We crossed two or three ledges of rocks, cropping out from the top of high and steep hills, which made the labor for our cattle exceedingly hard. A singular accident, of a serious nature, occurred to-day in a Pittsburgh company, at their noon halt. A young man belong- ing to their traha was standing by a wagon, tieing his horse to a wheel. A loaded musket lay on a knoll at a little distance, and a horse was feeding near it. The horse passed over it, when his halter caught in the lock, and clischarged the musket, the whole charge taking eflfect in the young man's knee, inflicting a dangerous wound, and it was foimd necessary to amputate the Ifmb to save his life. A WKSTERN HEKMIT. 113 Passing three fine creeks during the aflernoon, we encamped on the river bottom for tha- last time, about two miles from the road, and then drove the cattle a mUe below, where they found good grazing. Our encampment was in a large community of the species of prairie dogs I have mentioned, and they were running about like rats, and many were killed by the men, in endeavoring to escape to their holes. Distance, twenty mUes. JUNE 29. As early as we could, consistently, we left our encampment for the ford, at which we were to bid adieu to the Sweet Wa- ter, and launch into the region beyond the Rocky Mountains. Near the ford, wliich was two miles below our camp, we found a cluster of lodges, which belonged to one of a singular class of men, who leave the comforts of civilized life, and bury them- selves in the wild, inhospitable regions of the far west. At first I mistook him for an Lidian, from his dress, his long black locks, and his swarthy, weather-beaten complexion. lie was a man apparently thirty -five or forty years of age, with a pleasing countenance, and mild blue eyes, whom I found to be well edu- cated — far above the humble sphere of life to which he had consigned himself He was surrounded by tln-ee or four squaws and a number of children, who seemed to look upon liim as the grand head of the family, in the relative position of husband and father. He readily entered into conversation, and told me that he had lived that life for eighteen years, without once having been to the States, depending upon chance for supplies. "And do you never tliink of returning ? Do not old thoughts of home and fi-iends intrude upon your memory, and awaken old feelings of endearment V ^ , " O yes," he replied, rather sadly, " very often. Once, about 8 114 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. five years ago, I cletermmed to return, and made my arrange- ments, but after all, I could not nialve up my mind to leave ; and when I thiiilc of it now, and almost determine to go once more, I look at my responsibilities, (and he glanced around at his wives and liis young brood of half-breeds,) and I give it up. You see 1 have cares ; and then I am so accustomed to this mode of life, that I ana unfitted for social mtercourse in refined society. True, I thinlc I will go some time, but I may never do it. Who would protect my children in danger, if I was absent 1" Nature clings to its offspring, irrespective of color, thought I, and bidding him farewell, I followed the train. Crossing the river, we ascended a steep hill from the bottom land, and then found a good and almost level road to the South Pass — only about eight miles distant. A herd of about thirty bufflxloes were bounding off" over the plaui as we rose the liill, frightened a-t the sight of so many enemies. Tliese, and one other which we saw the day after we went tlirough the Pass, were the only ones which we saw duruig the remamder of our journey. There are no particular land-marks to distinguish the scenery on the east side of the Pass from that of the valley, through which we had come. The ascent is so gradual that the cul- minating pomt is a matter of doubt with the thousands who have crossed it, and I can only give my own impressions. Half a mUe before we reach the highest rounded knoll, according to my ideas of the highest point, are two small conical Mils, wliich stand near each other, on the same plain, perhaps twenty rods asunder, between wliich the road passes. Here Bryant and Fremont ftx the culminating pomt. I cannot agree with them, for from this a slight ascent' brmgs the traveler to the termi- nus of the plain, over which you pass a slight convexity, and THE SOUTH P4.SS. 115 begin to descend towards a second curvative of an equal height. From the second ciu-vative, the descent is regular and cer- tain, and on commencing this, the hills are not large on ei- ther side, but approach so near that, like a small, water-worn guUey, there is barely sufficient room iefl for a good wagon road betwen them. The declination on the west side is more rapid than on the eastern, but not difficult ; and tliis narrow road continues about a mUe and a half, when we get a view of the first water wliich flows into the Pacific Ocean. Tliis is called Pacific Spring, and is in boggy ground on the right, where there are also sulphur springs. The water is clear, and of icy coldness, and a httle broolc here takes its rise, and flows to the west. As we proceed down, the valley expands, and the hills on the lefl; immediately bounding the Pass, are perhaps two or three hundred feet high, (by estimation) — no worse than those on which roads ai'e laid out in some States at home. On the north, you look across a broken, mountain plain, to the Wind River range of mountains, apparently twenty or thirty miles distant. Tlie South Pass proper is about two miles long, afl;er which we come to a large basin, perhaps fom' miles across, with a rim of the peculiar table hills and ridges, easy of ascent, wMch seems to be the commencement of a series of basins and valleys, though often interrupted by mountain streams and hills extending quite to the Sierra Nevada, of a character peculiar to themselves, and diftering much fi'om those east of the South Pass. From the culminating pomt, the view is not as grand as at many places along the Sweet Water Mountains, for these moiui- tams, though here much diminished in size, hinder any extend- ed view m that direction. The point has an altitude of be- tween seven and eight thousand feet, and the rarification of the 1 1 () LIFE ON THE PLAINS. air is so great that it is necessary to stop fi-eqiieiitly to get breath on ascending the liillsin the vicmity. We arrived at Pacific Spring a httle after noon. Being told that our next day's drive would be twenty miles, without water, we stopped where there were tolerable grass and good water. The Hennepin corn2:>any had arrived just before us, and tlie Dayton company were encamped but a short distance below, and Ave made and received visits to our mutual satisfaction. We were now in Oregon — the ridge of the Eocky Mountains being its eastern boundary — and fifteen hundred miles from our homes. We had toiled steadily in our weary journey for two months, and were but little more than half way to our point of destination ; and although thus far, no serious mishap had befallen us, no one could tell what trials awaited us. My own health had vastly improved, and I endured the labors of our daily routme, and the absence of comforts, much better than I could have apprehended. One object of my journey was successfully accompUshed, and I was in better health tlian I had been for years. Would the other grand desideratum be also accomplished, and my labor meet its reward 1 Time alone could tell, hi a musuig mood, I ascended a liigh liill opposite our camp, to tiike a parting look at the Atlantic waters, which flowed towards all I held most dear on earth. Old reminis- cences were crowding on my memory. As I turned my eye eastward, home, wife and children, rushed to my mind witli un- controlled feeling, and in the full yearnings of my heart, I in- voluntarily stretched out my arms as if I would clasp them to my bosom ; but no answering look of aflection, no fond em- brace met me in return, as I was w^ont to see at home, but in its place there lay extended before mc barren readies of table land, the bare hills, and desert plains of the Sweet Water, whCe HINTS TO KMIGRANTS. il long trains of wagons, with their wliite covers, were turning the last curve of the dividing ridge, their way-woni occupants bid- ding a long, perhaps a last adieu to eastern associations, to min- gle in new scenes on the Pacific coast. Sad, but not dispirited, I descended the hill, and sought the dubious comfort of our weather-beaten tent, where memory kept busy till fatigue closed my eyes in slumber. On leaving the Missouri, nearly every train w'as an organized company, with general regulations for mutual safety, and with a captain chosen by themselves, as a nommal head. On reach- mg the South Pass, we found that the great majority had cither divided, or broken up entirely, makuig independent and helter- skelter marches towards California. Some had divided from pol- icy, because they were too large, and on account of the diffi- culty of procuring grass in one place for so many cattle, while others, disgusted by the overbearing propensities of some men, would not endure it, and others stUl, fi'om mutual ill-feelings and disagreements among themselves. Small parties of twenty men got along decidedly the best ; and tlu-ee men to a mess, or wagon, is sufficient for safety as well as harmony. Distance, ten miles. CHAPTER VIII. LEAVING SOUTH PASS LITTLE AND DRY SANDY RIVEES PASSAGE BY SUB- LETt's cut-off HARDSHIPS IN THE DESERT GREEN KITER RE-UNION OF OLD' FRIENDS AT THE FERRY BRUTAL MURDER SEARCH FOR THE CRIMINAL IRREGULAR JURY TRIAL INDEPENDENCE DAY UNPLEASANT INCIDENTS A WELCOME SHADE BEAR RIVER CAMP OF SNAKE IN- DIANS ROUGH TRAVELING FACE OF THE COUNTRY MOUNTAIN INDIANS AND TRADERS GAME. JUNE 30. We had a toilsome day before us of twenty miles, to the Little Sandy, one of the waters of the Green River, or Rio Colorado, and this distance was to be passed before water or forage could be obtained. On emerging from the Narrows of the Pass, we obsei'ved for the first time, at a great distance, the Rocky Mountains, towering to the skies iia lofty grandeur, with their snow-white peaks blending with the blue sky, and on the right the Wind River chain presented a bleak, broken and cheerless appearance. Before us lay the basin, bounded by its tables of nebulse, and through it meandered the brooklet which took its rise from Pacific Spring. By an easy ascent, afi;er passing across the level plain, we gained the rim of the basin, and before us lay another, differing but little from the first. I ascended one of nature's watch-towers, and found the top cover- ed with pebbles and scoria, which bore the appearance of having DRY SANDY AND LITTLE SANDY. 119 been in fire. The flat surface might have contained two acres, and the inclination of the sides was perhaps at an angle of for- ty-five degrees. Fourteen miles brought us to the Dry Sandy — not inaptly named, for it was the dry bed of a creek where salt and unpleasant w^ater could anywhere be found at a depth of six or eight inches below the sand. Once in every mile, at least, we saw the carcass of a dead ox, having closed his career of patient toil in this land of desolation in the service of his gold- seeking master, to become the prey of ravenous wolves, or food for croakmg ravens, which covered his dead body, screaming at our approach. Six miles beyond Dry Sandy, where even the everlasting sage is scanty and of dwarfish gi'owth, is Little San- dy — a fine creek of pure and sweet water. The road through the day was good, and we reached our place of encampment a little before sunset, but found grass and wood scarce. Game, which before had been plenty, now entirely disappeared, as if the Mountain Pass was a barrier to that portion of animal life necessary to the wants of man. On arriving at the creek, men and animals rushed to the water to quench their raging thirst, after v.'hich the latter were diven oflf a mile, where they picked up enough to satisfy the cravings of appetite, and we had re- course to the simple larder of our wagon. Drive, twenty miles. JULY 1. On getting our cattle together this morning, I fomid that one of my best oxen was sick. We felt sure that it was not the effect of bad water, and concluded that it was more from hard labor in the rarified atmosphere than the effect of disease. There was a cow in the company, owned by Messrs. Wilson and Hall, and I purchased Wilson's interest, and A\ith the consent 120 LIFE DN THE PLAINS. of Doctor Hall, put her in the yoke, and drove my ox before the train. She was worth nothing except to bear up the end of the yoke, but our loads by this time were much lighter, and the other cattle could draw it, so she answered a temporary- purpose. After crossing the creek and proeeedmg a mile and a half, we came to where the road forks — the one to the left leading to Salt Lake and Fort Bridge, the other more direct to Fort Hall, by what is laiown as Greenwood's or Sublett's cut- off! The former was about seventy miles further, and had been the traveled road until the other route was discovered the pre- vious year. The latter was by a desert route, without grass or water, (as our guide books informed us,) thirty miles to Green River ; but which we found by actual measurement by road- ometers to be fifty-four miles from Big Sandy, which was six miles from Little Sandy. We decided to take the cut off", and drove on over an arid plain to Big Sandy. As this was tlie last water, it is customary to start about four o'clock in the af- teriioon on the dreaded desert, and by driving continuously night and day, make the distance in about twenty-four hours. This was our course. We found good grass at Big Sandy, and here we again threw away all superfluous articles. All our kegs were brought into requisition for water, and I had an m- dia-rubber bag, which I took to the stream to fill, but just as I was pom'ing in the last bucket full, the bag burst, and it was rendered wholly useless. The desert over which we were to pass was an arid plain, without a drop of water, or a blade of grass, the soil being of soft, dry, ashy consistence. The dust was an impalpable powder, and the dense clouds which arose almost produced suffocation. HappUy for us, one hour before we started a fine shower came on, which laid the dust for thirty miles, though in some places the mud was sticky and bad. NIGHT TRAVEL IN THE DESERT. 121 At four o'clock we set out. The raiu had cooled the sultry atmosphere, and the night was comfortable and pleasant. I had walked six miles during the day, and now I was to try my bot- tom on one of the most severe attempts I had ever made. Slow, but steadily, we walked on. The night closed in upon hundreds of wagons, and the road was lined by horsemen and pedestrians, and lucky was he who had the good fortmie to have the shadow of a mule to ride. All walked who could, in order to make their loads as light as possible, to save their cattle ; and as the night wore heavily on, all sounds of mirth or of loud profanity ceased, and the creaking of wheels and the howling of wolves alone were heard. It was with difficulty I could keep awake. Tired as I was, and as the small hours approached, my weary limbs fi-equently gave way under me, and I fell headlong to the ground. Tliis aroused me for a time, and I kept plod- ding on, driving, with the assistance of Brown, my poor ox, who needed rest perhaps even more than we. Smith was still in the wagon, suffering from his swollen leg, which pained him excessively, and the care of him had been severe to us ; but we still attended assiduously to his comfort. With an intense desire to make our load light, by the order of Henderson, he nearly emptied a bag of com meal in the road as we drove along ; a measure which was afterwards regretted, when our provisions failed, and even Henderson would have been glad of a corn cake, wliieh he aftected to despise. JULY 2. At day-break we were a little more than half way across the desert, where we stopped for an hour, to give our cattle rest, and a drop of water fi-om our kegs, and then set out again. The morning air somewhat revived me, and I managed to crawl F 122 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. along. For about ten miles before reacloing the river, the comi- try became broken, and we passed several hard hills. There had been no rain here ; consequently the dust was ankle deep. The wind blew a gale, and the impalpable powder filled our eyes and nostrils, and our faces, hair, and clothes looked as if we had been rolling m a heap of dry ashes. Even respiration was difficult. Completely exhausted, when within about five miles of the river, I crawled into the wagon, and lay helpless as a child. This was my birth-day, and it was the hardest one of all my life, for without sleeping I had walked fifty -five miles. It was five o'clock in the afto-noon when we reached the river, all of us exhausted, when, instead of finding grass for our cat tie, there was nothing gro\ying on the broad, barren bottom but a weed which tliey could not cat, and the nearest grass was nearly four miles from our camp, over a high hill, accessible only at two points, tlu-ough deep ravines. It was impossible, in our exhausted state, to drive the cattle out, and they were left to roam, ar take care of themselves, till daylight; and after getting our tents erected, we fell upon our blankets, and were lost in utter unconsciousness till morning. Distance, in two days, sixty miles. JULY 3. When morning dawned, our first Ciire was to drive our cattle over the hills, where there was grass ; and then, after dispatch- ing 0!n' breakfast, to ascertain the chances for crossing the river. The ferry was nearly two miles below our stoppmg place, and I went down to make inquiries. The whole plain was covered with tents, wagons and men, and there were also a de- tachment of troops, on their way to Oregon, under the com- mand of Major Simonton, ^\ho were stopping a few days to FACE OF TUF COUNTRY. 123 rest, and recruit the strength of their animals. On inquiry, I found that a register was kept by the ferryman, of the appli- cants, and each had to be serv^ed in turn. This, though fair, consigned us to two or three days delay ; yet, as there was no help for it, I gave the name of our company, and then took a view of the premises. There was a small but good scow, capable of carrying two wagons at once with safety, and to which oars were attached. The river was one hundred yards broad, with a very rapid current ; and when the boat reached the shore, it was towed up by a long line and a sti'ong force, to the place of departiu-e. The landhig on the west side could be made by rowing, allow- ing for the velocity of the current. The river rose in the Wind River Mountains, and the melting snows made it of icy cold- ness, and sweet to the taste. The only timber was a few cotton- wood trees, and willow bushes gi-owing sparsely on the margin. The whole bottom was sand, in which stunted sage, greasewood and weeds struggled to grow. The hills on the eastern boim- dary of the bottom were perpendicular rocks, of the same for- mation as at Scott's Blufls ; and like them presented a fanciful appearance, resembling architecture in some places, though not to a very great extent. On the north and west, at a great dis- tance, were high mountains, capped with snow ; and from the lull above, the barren plain could be traced to the extent of vis- ion, bearing nothing but stunted sage and greasewood bushes. Li looking about the camps, I found Captain Tutt and my South Bend friends, who had arrived before us, and who were then crossmg the river. They had got along thus far well, no accident having happened to them. Among others, I met for the scond time on the plains, my old friend, Doctor M. B. An- gel, formerly from Niles, IMichigan — a generous, open-hearted 124 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. and benevolent gentleman. With the enterprising spirit for which he is remarkable, he, in company with two others, was building a ferry-boat, with the intention of remaining here a couple of weeks, and then go down the river to the Salt Lake road, and visit the Mormon City, which he subsequently did. I saw him no more till I strangely met him in, Sacramento City, when he rendered me an essential service in my utmost need. Soon after my arrival, the whole encampment was thrown into great excitement by a cruel and fiendish murder, which was committed on the west bank. A reckless villain, named Bro-wn, requested a young man who acted as cook in his mess, to get him a piece of soap. The young man was at the moment bending over the fire, eng;iged in preparing the meal, and re- plied by telling him to get it himself, as he was busy. With out further provocation, as it appeared, the wretch raised Ins knife and stabbed him in the back, killing the young inan almost instantly. Tlie murderer fled. A meeting of emigrants was called, and General Allen, from Lewis county, Missouri, Avas called to the chair, aa hen the atrocious deed was set forth, and it was determined by a series of resolutions to arrest the vil- lain, give liim a fair trial, and if foimd guilty, to execute him on the spot. Major Simonton seconded the views of the emi- grants, in order to protect them against similar assassmations. hi addition to a dozen atliletic volunteers, who stood forth at the call, he detailed a file of soldiers to assist in the capture of the murderer. Several murders had "been committed on the road, and all felt the necessity of domg sometliing to protect themselves, where there was no other law but brute force. The party set out in pui-suit of Brown, and I lounged around among the different camps till afternoon, when our train came up, and A GREEN RIVER COURT OF JUSTICE, 125 established an encampment on the river bank among the crowd, from which we experienced much courtesy. JULY ±. On reaclimg the mountains at Fort Laramie, I felt the bra- cing air acting favorably upon my health, and from that day I had been growmg strong, and supposed that my predisposition to disease was wholly conquered ; but as the sun arose over the eastern mountains this mornmg, certain unmistakable signs warned me that " the end had not yet come." The cold chills which were dancing along my back, gave me an inkling how my fourth of July was to be spent. Dear reader, may you be spai-ed such a celebration of our glorious anniversary as I was doomed to endure. My old enemy nailed me to my bed, and kept me there, rioting m fever and chill, till after high noon. It was four o'clock in the aflernoon before I was well enough to crawl out, and gather the news of the camp. The volunteers had returned, without being successfid in cap- tui-ing Brown, but they had overtaken Williams, who had kill- ed the rascal at the Devil's Gate, and thinking that some ex- ample of justice was necessary, they intimated that his presence was required to stand trial before a Green River jury, and he willingly returned ; but his companions, dreadu:g delay, would not accompany him. Upon his return it was resolved to try him. As his witnesses would not come, he feared a true rep- resentation of facts would not come out, and he employed B. F. Washington, Esq., a young lawyer from Vfrguiia, to defend him. Had he kno\\ai it, there were witnesses enough in the crowd to have justified him, but as he did not, he was disposed to take advantage of any teclmicality, and therefore employed counsel. 126 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. A court of inquiry was organized ; General Allen elected chief justice, assisted by Major Simonton, who, with many of his officers, and a large crowd of emigrants, was present. A jury was empanneled, and court opened under a fine clump of willows. There, in that primitive court-house, on the bank of Green River, the first court was held hi tliis God-forsaken land, for the trial of a man accused of the highest crime. At the commencement, as much order reigned as in any lawful tribunal of the States. But it was the 4th of July, and the officers and lawyers had been celebrating it to the full, and a spirit other than that of '76 was apparent. Mr. Washington, counsel for the defendant, arose, and in a somewhat lengthy and occasionally flighty speech, denied the right of the court to act in the case at all. Tliis, as a matter of law, was true enough, but his remark touched the pride of the old commandant, who gave a short, pithy and spirited con- tradiction to some of the learned counsel's remarks. This elicited a spirited reply, until, spiritually speakmg, the spirits of the speakers ceased to flow in the tranquil spirit of the com- mencement, and the spirit of contention waxed so fierce, that some of the officer's spirits led them to take up in Washing- ton's defence. From taking up words, they fmally proceeded to take up stools and other belligerent attitudes. Blows, in short, began to be exchanged, the cause of which would have puzzled a " Philadelphia lawyer " to determine, when the em- igrants interfered to prevent a further ebullition of patriotic feeling, and words were recalled, hands shaken, a general am- nesty proclaimed, and this spirited exhibition of law, patriotism " vi et armis^'' was consigned to the " vasty deep." Order and good feeling " once more reigned in Denmark." Williams, in the meantime, seemg that his afTair had merged into something FERRY ACROSS GREEN RIVER, 127 wholly irrelevant, with a sort of tacit consent, withdrew, for his innocence was generally understood, and no attempt was made to detain him. The sheriff did not even adjourn the court, and it may be in session to this day, for aught I know. JULY 5. An old ox was offered for sale to-day by one of the emigrants, and though I knew he was nearly worn down, yet my friend McNeil thought he might do to hold up the yoke better than my cow, and as I thought he would give my sick ox a still bet^ ter chance to recruit, I paid ten dollars and called him my own. He was driven out to graze with the other cattle, but on get- ting them together the following morning, the old ox was noti est inventus, and I was assured by Henderson and Morrell that he had gone where neither goad, load, nor wagon-train would worry him more ; in short, like Uncle Ned, he " had gone where all good oxen go ;" and for some days I was the butt of my companions for my unfortunate speculation in beef However, it appeared afterwards that instead of beuig dead, Henderson would not take the trouble to drive him up, but left loim on the mountains, without caring whether I made or lost by the operation. JULY 6, FeiTymg had contuiued night and day since our arrival, and a little before daylight our turn came, and the passage was safely effected in about an hour. Although the water was of icy cold- ness, oiu" cattle swam over without difficulty, and we were ready to start from the opposite shore a httle before noon. We had to drive through a slough before we reached terra firma, when, in the hands of Brown, my cattle became a little unruly, and suddenly drew the wagon to a deep place. The 128 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. water came into the box and wet all jny clothes, unstarchhig all my fine shirts, playing the deuce with ray wardrobe ; and doing considerable damage to sundry articles. For the next two days I was improving every moment of our noon halt to dry my goods and chattels. Tlie nights were very cold, the ice forming in our buckets half an inch thick. This was gen- erally succeeded by a sultry and oppressive heat during the day. Smith was relieved of his sufferings by having his leg lanced, and from this time he rapidly recovered. Leaving the river we drove down a sandy bottom, and then ascended a narrow ridge on the right, just wide enough for a good road, from wliich we had a view of the bottom and river which we had just left, and the broad bottom of a beautiful creek on the left, along which the road ran. To attain this by followuig the ridge, we made a half retrograde movement of three miles, to get the distance of one in a straight line. On reachmg the creek bottom we found good grass, and fc;r two days we had the comforts of forage, water and wood, and a level road. On the 7th we left the creek, and fi-om this to Bear River, wliich we reached on the 9th, the road passed over a broken country, with many difficult and bare hills. In the hollows we generally found excellent grass, but no game except mountain sheep, which were numerous on the hills. Li some places we found ripe strawberries, but they were sour and unpleasant ; we also found flax growing abundantly, and occasionally wild oats. From the lulls, on both sides, we could see momitains covered with snow, rising to the clouds in sublime grandeur. We passed a mountaineer's encampment during the morn- ing, from whom we gained much information of the route to Fort Hall. He told us, too, that usually the valleys were fill- CHARACTER OF THE ROUTES. 120 ed with snow, and that he resided with his wives and children beyond the Rocky Mountains, on the east, where there was no snow, and where the grass was green all winter. lie had a drove of horses, and had picked up many cattle which had been left by emigrants, and they were now in good condition. Fremont, in speaking of the old route, says '" that between Green and Bear Rivers grass is scanty." On this route we found it good and abundant, and were it not for the fifty-four mile desert of Sublett's cut-off, I should recommend this route to ftiture travelers. The mountaineer told us, however, that the season was unusual, and that there were more and later rains than he had ever known, and more grass ; that usually there was but little grass on the hill sides, which were now covered. The road leads through valleys, wherever practicable, in the general direction, but sometimes we found long and steep hills to ascend and descend, and during the afternoon we made the ascent from a valley, the worst I ever saw a wagon driven over. It was up a narrow ridge, with almost perpendicular sides, and had a wagon broke loose, it would have been dashed to atoms in a moment. "We got over safely, however, and on the top we found a mountain plain, gradually descending, and an encampment. Over a bank on the left, was a morass cov- ered with cotton-woods, and where there was good grass and pure water. JULY- 8, Leavmg our good camp in excellent spirits, with a good road and strangely interesting country before us, we drove about four miles, when we came to a smgular novelty, near the top of a mountam, easy of access. This was notliing less than a beautiful grove of fir trees, standing thickly together — a kind F* 9 loO LIFE ON THE PLAINS. of wooded island in the desert, about half a mile in extent. The road passed directly through it, and our emotions were of the most pleasing kind, in once more getting beneath its cooluig shade. It was the first grove of timber which we had passed through since leaving the Missouri, having seen none but the scattered trees which grew immediately on the banks of streams. For more than two months we had been traveling, exposed to the fervid heat of the sun, or the cold and stormy blasts along the Platte, without a leaf to offer protection, and now the deep green foliage, the stillness wliich reigned imbroken, except the hollow sound of a woodpecker upon some decayed trunk, the dead trees wliich lay prostrate on the ground, brought forcibly to mind the wood-covered land which we had left ; and thought and tongues were busy in reviewing the comforts and pleasures of that happy and favored land. Leaving with reluctance this mountain paradise, we drove on against a cold wind, wliich af- terwards increased to a gale, and found an encampment among the sage bushes — a long day's drive from the valley of the Bear. JULY 9. About noon we reached the top of the last high hill of this broken country, and looked down upon the rolling, bottom-land through which Bear River was winding its crooked course, and thinking it only three or four miles, I walked forward alone to the river. The road ran through a kind of rolling, lateral val- ley, without vegetation, between the mountains and river, and it was not till nearly sundown that I reached the bottom, a mile from the river, and it became dark before the train got up, after a fatiguing day's drive. The grass was excellent, and in the dusk of eveninsc we discovered no deleterious water. After LODGES OF SNAKE INDIANS. 131 stationing our night watch, we turned into our blankets. Di? tance from Green River, sixty-five miles. JULY 10. On driving up om- cattle this morning, they exhibited the appearance of having drunk alkaline water, and those who drove them reported the gi'ound Avhitc in places with the efflorescence. The usual remedy was applied at once, after which we drove on till noon. As they appeared weak, we resolved to lay over. About a mile below our moimtain camp we crossed a fine mountain stream of fi-esh water, where several lodges of Snake Indians were encamped. They were very fiiendly, particularly the females, who showed no signs of fear, laughing and chatter- ing with us as if v^e were old aa]uaintances. One of the best looking women took quite a fancy to Bro-svn, and made him propositions, which rendered him the laughing stock of the com- pany for the hour ; but he modestly declined the honor. These Snakes are of small statm-e ; the men ill lookmg and diminu- tive, who, in speaking to us, scarcely raised their eyes fi:'om the ground. In this particular they exliibited a strong contrast to the women, bringing forcibly to mmd the musty adage of " the gray mare is the better horse." We saw a marked difference between these Lidians and those east of the Rocky Mountains. The Ottoes, the Pawnees and Sioux are a fine looking race of people, often handsome and well formed, warlike and bold. The Crows are not so well formed, are nearly as dark skinned as the lighther shade of negroes, broad shouldered, and rather stout built, yet possessing courage, and it is said nuich honor. TTie Asiatic features begin now to appear, wliich seem to be- come more apparent in the tribes as Ave approach the Pacific, 132 LIFE ON THE PLAINS, till they resemble the islanders of the South Sea, though gen- erally of a darker skin. I speak of those I saw. We passed through a beautifiil valley about five miles beyond, when, coming to a good encampment ground, we gave our cattle an- other dose of bacon, and, turning them out, took a substan- tial dose ourselves, but f(jr quite another purpose. Distance, six miles. JULY 11. Our cattle were perfectly recovered from their potations of soda, and we pursued our journey along the beautiful valley of the Bear at an early hour. Henderson gave up the team a short time fur the purpose of hunting, and going into the moun- tains, had the good fortune to kill a mountain sheep. As it was too heavy for him to carry, he gave it in charge of two men belonging to a mule train, who promised to brmg it on, for which they were to receive one-half. On Henderson's report, when oveilakuig us, we congratulated ourselves at the prospect of having a good meal of Avild mutton at our noon halt. Noon came, and with it came not the mule train ; and after waiting to the last moment, we were compelled to resort to our bacon, grumbling the while at the bi\d fixith of our neighbors, wishmg that every mouthful they ate of it might choke them. In a drive of ten miles over a delightful, grassy plain, we reached Thomas' Fork, a mountain affluent of the Bear, about fifty feet wide, which we crossed Nvithout much trouble. The bank was steep, and one wagon upset as it was drawai up, but without damage. Here Bear River was walled by mountains for about ten miles, and this spur we had to cross. The country was ro- mantic and interesting, though hard for our cattle. The descent from one hill to another was often precipitous. After going VISIT TO AN INDIAN VILLAGE. 1^ down one long, steep descent, and winding for a mile or more through a narrow ra^ine, w^e came to a be^iutiful valley, tlu-ough which flowed one of those fine, clear, mountain brooks peculiar to tills region. Ascending another long hill, we passed tlirough another crooked and rocky gorge, and by a long ascent of perhaps three miles, we once more gained a view of the river and valley below, from an elevation of -more than a thousand feet, from which the descent was very steep, and somewhat difficult. The view of the valley with its green grass along the river bottom revived our spirits, and we drove on with the satisfaction of Imowing that comfortable quarters awaited us. h: the valleys we found strawberries, but they w^ere sour and insipid, and upon the liills we found flax and wild oats growing thriftily. On de- scending the liill, the road lay over a barren soil without water, till we reached the river at a point about three miles distant, where we encamped near a village of Indians, who exhibit ed the most friendly feelings towards us. Distance, twenty miles. JULY 12. ha the morning we visited the village, where we found tra- ders, who had established a post there. The Lidians had a large number of ponies, and we made attempts to trade ; but the traders mterfered, and we could effect nothing. We w^ere told that duruig a hard winter they ate their horses, as we do cattle ; and we found, some weeks afterwards, that the moun- tain Lidians were not particular in their choice of food, for they esteemed the steak of a lean horse quite as much as that of a fat ox. We found them very expert in throwing the lasso. Tlieir mode of catching a horse was by throwing the lasso over his head. Our route during the day was along the level hot 134 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. torn of the river, and while our train moved slowly on, I took my rifle and went to the mountains, in search of game. Deer and antelope made their appearance again, but I could not get near enough for a shot, and my only reward was a badger, which I did not tliink worth bruiging into camp. Distance, eighteen miles. CHAPTER IX. HUNTING EXCURSION MOUNTAIN SCENERY BEAR RIVER VALLEY BEER SPRINGS MINERAL SPRINGS VISIT TO THE CRATERS OF TWO EXTIN- GUISHED VOLCANOES LINDLEY's MISFORTUNE RIVER NEUF ARRIVAL AT FORT HALL PANACK RIVER TRADING WITH THE INDIANS MULE TRAIN FROM OREGON VALLEY OF RAFT RIVER LARGE SNAKE THE AUTHOR GETS LOST HIS SUFFERING FOR WATER RETURN VALLEY OF GOOSE CREEK. JULY 13. Not satisfied with my ill luck in hunting the previous day, in company with McNeil, a right good fellow of our train, I made another excursion to the mountains. From the purity of the air, the distance to the base of the hills did not appear to be more than half a mile, but we walked steadily for more than an hour before we reached it. Following a gorge, which was lined with a thick growth of bushes, we were assailed by such a cloud of mosquitoes, we were obliged to cover our faces with our handkerchiefs, which they frequently covered so com- pletely that we could not see without brushmg them off! The moment we stopped the blood thirsty insects covered us worse than the flies did the fox in the fable ; and had we not fought with bushes and hands, a coroner's jury might have rendered a verdict on our bodies — " bled to death by mosquitoes." At length we came to a point wliich we could ascend, when we re- solved to climb to tlie summit and take a view of the country. 136 LIFE ON THE PLAINS, The ascent was a toilsome one, for we could not go more than ten rods without stopping to breathe. After clambering over rocks and threading narrow ridges, we finally sat down, ex- hausted, on the top, fifteen hundred feet above the valley, and the scenery riclily rewarded us for our ti'ouble. Along this green valley the river wound its serpentine course like a thread. At the south, a lake several miles in circumference laved the foot of the high mountains like a gem, (as it was,) in these solitudes, whQe behind us, as far as we could see, were broken ridges, valleys, and ravines, sparsely covered with fir and ce- dars. As we sat upon the bank of snow, the four seasons lay before us. Winter, with its snow, was under us ; a few feet farther down, the mountain plants were jjist starting from the ground ; and next the flowers and strawberries wei^e in bloom ; while at the foot the growth of suraffi§F'was parched to autumn dryness, and withered under the fervid sun. The valley of the Bear Elver may be briefly described. It varies from two to four miles in width, with a rich soil. The mountains rise ab- ruptly from its sides ; the hUls are generally covered with bunch grass, and sometimes fir and cedar trees appear on the sides near their summits, and aspen are occasionally seen, giv- ing a cheerful relief to the dull monotony of nakedness, which this region of country universally presents. On approaching Beer Springs, the mountains are white with carbonate of lime, the surface resembling slacked lime, but a few inches within it has the appearance of lime just bui^nt. Afler admiring the charming view till satisfied, we descended to the valley tlirough another wooded ravine, committing a sec- ond slaughter of thousands when we reached mosquitodom be- low ; and overtook the train after noon, with a glorious appetite. MINERAL SPRINGS. 137 At night WG reached the first Beer Springs, two conical mounds, twenty feet high, with a base of more than a hundred feet in diameter, which was formed by the deposite of lime from the water. These are rather more than half a mile north of the road, and near them is a fine brook, lined with cedars, which runs mto the river a mile or two below. These spruigs are one of the greatest luxuries on the w^hole route. They are highly charged with carbonic acid gas, and are as delicious as they are refi'eshing. They are equal to any soda water in the world, and though good without any additional concomitants, with lemon-syrup, or sugar, they are delicious. Two mUes be- low are a dozen more, near the brinli of the river, some of which are even stronger than the upper ones. On the opposit bank of the river are numerous cones, formed by the deposite from springs, but the incrustation has completely prevented the water from flowing. A spring is on the right bank, near the Soda Sprmgs, through wliich volumns of gas are discharged with a loud noise, resembling the ejection of steam from a boiler, and is, in consequence, called Steamboat Spring. The foUow- is an analysis of the water, according to Fremont : Carbonate of lime, - - - 92.55 Carbonate of magnesia, - - - 42 Oxide of iron, - - - - 1.05 Silicia, alumina, water and loss, - - 5.98 100. The surrounding country is barren moimtaiiis, romantic and peculiar, abounding with evidences of volcanic action. With the abundance of traveler's comforts which existed, and the way-worn and weary condition in which we were, we felt a strong desix'e to linger a week amid the curiosities of this place ; 138 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. but our great canx'iety to reach the end of our journey, induced us to spend only the night, after a drive of sixteen miles. JULY 14. About three miles below the Soda Sprmgs the river makes a short turn to the south, around a high, perpendicular cliff of black trap-rock, as it seeks its way to its mysterious resorvoir of Salt Lake. Here we took leave of Bear River and its fine valley, through which we found so many comforts which we had long been deprived of. The valley of the river is lost among the mountains to the south, while a lateral valley, with- out a stream flowing through it, runs northwardly towards Fort Hall. Soon after we passed a new route was explored across the western range, to avoid Fort Hall, and saving ninety miles of travel ; but the first twenty -five miles is without water. Tliis became the principal road ; but as it was not known at the time of passing, we took the road to Fort Hall. Turning north around the point of a rocky spur at the extremity of the Bear Valley, we slowly contmued our journey. Nearly two miles on the plain west, we observed the craters of two^ extinguished volcanoes, and in company with my friend. Doctor Hall, I walked out to the southernmost one. Its form was conical, about eighty feet high, the crater being oval shaped, and probably two hundred feet in its greatest diameter, and about forty feet deep. Around its sides are black, burnt rocks and cinders, which have fallen off in places, leaving only a portion of its glazed, perpendicular walls standing, while a thin crust of soil at the bottom afforded a foothold for a small growth of sage. Tlie crater on the north is about half a mile fi'om this one, and is covered with grass withm and witliout. The length is about the same, but it appears much older, and MR. lindley's misfortunes, 139 near it are tliree or four tumuli, which looked as if they were thi'own out when the volcano was in active operation. They all stand isolated on the plain, with high mountains all around in the distance. The direct approach from the road to these cra^ ters was somewhat difficult. There were lines of rocky ledges of basalt, miles in length, having wide, continuous cracks in them, and occasionally funnel-shaped holes, sometimes quite small, and of which we could not determine the depth ; and al- though we descended fifty feet into one of the chasms, we could not see the bottom. This main chasm ran parallel with the road about two miles, and then turned towards the mountain, the road crossing it on a natural bridge, of basaltic rock. Six miles from the Soda Springs we found another with a natural basin, formed by its gi-adual deposits of lime, and though its waters were sparkling, it was wanner and not so pleasant as those we had just left. Night brought us to the banks of a little mountain brook which ran across the valley, but we could see no outlet, and it was probably lost in the volcanic chasms of the valley. Distance, eighteen miles. JULY 15. About noon we had reached the end of the valley, and then passed through an ascending defile towards the top of the divi- dmg ridge, between the waters of the Bear and the Columbia Rivers. For a few miles the road was uneven, with several sharp hills, and in some parts of the defile there was quite a gi'owth of cotton-wood and shrubby trees, and when we attained the highest point, the descent, though not bad, was precipitous. During our morning drive, we were told of the misfortunes of Mr. Lindley, of whom I spoke when on the Platte. Since we parted there I had heard nothing fi-om him, except what we J40 LIFE ON THE PLAINS, learned from one of his men who overtook us. He reported, that of five yoke of cattle, all had died but tlu:-ee heM ; that Mr. Lindley was obliged to throw away all his goods ; and having constructed a cart from the fore wheels of his wagon, was trying to get tln"ough, I subsequently saw him m the val- ley of the Sacramento, and he told me that he was enabled to buy another ox and a light wagon, and fmally succeeded in getting through. Night found us encamped m the Pass, near a fine stream wliich broke out of the mountain, and was of suf- ficient capacity to turn a mill. Distance, fourteen miles. JULY 16. It was nearly night when we got through the defile. In passit;ig a grove of young poplars which stood by the road-side, we saw names of many acquaintances ^\Titten on the white bark, with the diiferent dates of their arrival ; among them was that of the Dayton company, dated July 13 — three days before us. On emerging fi:-om our narrow road upon the bar- ren plain, which was surrounded by high mountams, we en- camped on the banlis of the Neuf, about a day's di'ive fi'om Fort Hall. Distance, seventeen mUes. JULY 17. We had become excessively weary with our long continued travelmg, and the daily routme of duty became tiresome. Not unfrequently, afi^er a long or hard day's toil, we had to perform the task of gathering wood — which was only a few sticks, picked up perhaps at the distance of a mile, to be carried in our arms — or of bringing a pail of water half a mile, to make our cof iee. Under such circumstances, it was almost impossible to feel entirely good natured ; and bickerings would break forth ; ARRIVAL AT FORT HALL. 141 yet the duties were performed as a matter of course, and on the whole we got along well, and were weary, weary, weary. We contemplated one day's rest at Fort Hall, and therefore started off as early as possible, over a heavy sand-road, which contin- ued four miles. Beyond this the plain was low, and filled with large and beautiful springs of the purest water, from many of which considerable streams flowed into the Neuf About noon we reached a barren bayou, which led mto the Columbia, here called Snake, or American Eiver, where there was excellent grass, and clouds of mosquitoes ; and understand- ing that there was no grass, but plenty of mosquitoes at the fort, we concluded to halt for the day. Tlie afternoon was variously employed. Some -writing with yearnuig hearts to finends at home, others wasliing, mending clothes, airing pro- visions, making repairs to wagons ; and others still, fishing, for fish were plenty in the stream — the fu*st we had met with since leaving the Missouri — and our table, (i. e. the ground,) was abimdautly supplied. Of all miserable work, washing is the meanest ; and no man who has crossed the plains will ever find fault with his wife for scolding on a washuig day. Rub- bing in the soap and rinsing a shirt is not much ; but when it comes to getting out the stams, dear reader, you will agree with me. JULY 18. We reached Fort Hall about nine o'clock in the mornino-. Its form resembled that of Fort Laramie, although it is much smaller. It belongs to the Hudson Bay Company, who, by- treaty at the cession of Oregon to the United States by Eng- land, was allowed to retain possession nineteen years, in order to close its affairs, five of which have expired. We had hoped to obtain some supplies here, but were disappointed. The 142 LIFE ON THE I'LAINS. Cumpany were even purchasing bacon and flour from the emi- grants who were overloaded. The fort stands on the left bank of the Amei'ican Fork of the Columljia, sometimes called Snake, and formerly Lewis and Clark's River, which is here per- haps five hundred feet broad. On the west, nothing is seen but a vast barren plain, as far as the eye can extend. On the north, at an apparent distance of tliirty or forty miles, high buttes and mountams rise to the clouds, with nothing in the view to cheer the traveler ; and this we felt more keenly after hav- mg passed through tlie fine valley of Bear River. On applying at the fort, we were courteously told we could leave our letters, and they would be forwarded by way of Or- egon the first opportunity, but there was no certain communi cation with the States, and that oui' surest way was to take them oiu'selves to California. Wliile thanking them for their frankness, we felt disappomted at not being able to send our remembrances to our friends. Subsequently we learned that no intelligence of us reached home, until four or five months after we left the Missouri. It was therefore anticipated that some accident had befallen us. . Around the fort were several lodges of Snake Indians, and a shirt was their only dress. The honesty of the Indians was so proverbial, that in traveling through their country we had re- laxed in our discipline, and did not consider it necessary to keep night guard — a confidence which was not misplaced. We were informed that it was eight hundred miles to the settlements in Oregon, and seven hundred to Sutter's Tort in Califjrnia. About six miles below Fort Hall, we crossed Panack River, a little above its junction with the American. It was here an hundred and fifty feet broad, and so deep that it was necessaiy to raise our wagon boxes to prevent our provis- FACfi OF THE COUNTRY. 143 ions from getting wet. Ascending a steep hill after crossing the Panack, we found ourselves upon a ban-en, sandy plana, where nothing but the interminable sage and greasewood grew. In the sultry sun, and through suffocating clouds of dust, we drove on till night. Our cattle found good grass below a steep hill on the bottoms of the American, after a drive of seventeen miles. JULY 19. Through burning sand, and in dense clouds of dust, we pur- sued our way, with the scenery of the plain but little varied. We frequently drove along the banks of the river, and it was always pleasant to view its sluggish current. About twenty miles below Fort Hall, it was nearly one-eighth of a mile wide, with rocky, perpendicular banks of black trap-rock, and rapids were frequent. The American falls were the first of these, and is caused by a dyke of black trap-rock, extending across the river in a horse-shoe form, making nearly a perpendicular fall. Near this are scattered on the ground, black volcanic debris^ re- sembling somewhat antlii-acite coal, but which is merely melted matter, thrown to the surface. Laving the falls, the road was broken and hilly, with steep pitches, but we got over safely, without trouble, and reached our place of encampment before sundown. It was a baiTcn spot, half a mile from the river. We found poor grass about a mile to the left, on the hill-side. After supper I went to the river, and descending an almost perpendicular roclcy bank, I found, growing from a httle beach, some of the finest red currants I ever saw. They were like the English currant, nearly as large as a cherry, and grew on bushes at least ten feet high. Their flavor was excellent, and I enjoyed a feast. Wliile busily engaged in discussing their 144 LIFE ON TIIK PLAINS. merits, I was startled by a strange, pufling noise, and looking to the river, I saw several Indians swimming and pushing a frame-work of willows before them. On their landing a little below me, I found they had fish, and came over for the purpose of trade, I tried my hand at maldng a bargain on reaching the wagons. They wanted a shirt for a small string and one fine salmon trout. I exhibited my stock, but they were unfortu- nately too small. I next offered them money, and quite as much as they were worth, but that they considered worthless. Some bright buttons were no better, but they offered to take a blanket worth five dollars. This was too hard a bargain for me, and I gave it up for a bad job, but finally I bought the whole lot for six fish hoolcs, both parties being equally well satisfied with theu* bargain. On their return, Tlittle, Hump- stead and Morrell swam over to their village with them, and were received in the most friendly manner. Distance, eighteen miles. JULY 20. Our Indians had promised to come over this mc)ming and bring a pony, for which I had promised a blanket, but they did not make their appearance, and instead of a gallant steed, I was compelled to ride shank's horse, as usual. We crossed Fall Q'eek, a fine clear little stream, having a succession of falls, which have been eiToneously, I think, called petrified beaver-dams. Although there were some steep ravines, the road was better than we expected, and we found it unnecessary to use ropes in letting our wagons down hill. We met a train of five hundred mules, from Oregon, loaded with supplies for the fort. There were both men and women in the train. The half-breed squaws, with sun-bunit faces, soiled buckskin clothes, and wild, half-sav- age looks, made a strange appearance. VALLEY OF RAFT RIVER. 145 A long drive brought us to Raft Eiver, or creek, for it is only two rods wide, flowing through a valley three or four miles wide, with good grass near the stream. Here the road forks, one leading to California, the other to Oregon. Distance, eighteen mUes. JULY 21. Our course now lay southerly, up the creek, and during the day we crossed it three times. Last night two horses were stolen from an accompanyhig train, and the first impression was that the theft had been committed by the Indians, but subse- quently it was believed that white men were the thieves. We began to see many traveling on foot, begging their way — havmg broken down their animals, and having no way to get forward but to walk. Most of the emigrants were disposed to render them all the aid in their power, but the supplies of the majority were only adequate to their own wants. The valley of Raft Creek was like all others in the country, a level, barren plain, except in the immediate bottoms. On either hand were high lulls, rising abruptly from the sides, with black trap-rocks protruding from l-tit surface, destitute of vegetation, except oc- casionally a few fii' and cedar trees, and bunch-grass growing on their summits. It was quite dark before we found a small spring, a mile from the road, and although the road had been good during the day, general weariness had prevented a long drive. Distance, sixteen miles. JULY 22. Our traveling now became somewhat monotonous, with but little variation of scenery. One fact, however, was somewhat remarkable. Smce leaving Green River we had heard of G 10 146 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. scarcely an accident from fire-amis. When we first crossed into the Lidian territory ahove St. Josephs, every man displayed his arms in the most approved desperado style, and rarely thought of stirring from the train without his trusty rifle. But no enemies were seen. By degrees the arms were laid aside, and by the time we reached Fort Laramie all were abandoned except a knife, and sometimes a pistol, which might be seen peeping from a pocket. Our train soon lefl the valley of the Raft, at the point where I have since been told the new road from the Soda Springs, fiund by Myers,^ comes in. Turning up a small branch between high hills, we traveled all day in a small valley, the road ascending all the way, and night over- took us before we had gained the ascent of the ridge, where we found a spring, about a mile to the right of the road. We were looking with some impatience for that "good time coming," when we might catch a Leprechaun, or gold-giving spirit, scarcely doubting that we should eventually capture him. Distance, fifteen miles. JULY 23. There w^re a large number of trains now traveling together, and for days we saw the same faces, and talked with the same men, while the scenery varied but little m its general outline. The course of long travel, however, like true love, "does not always rim smooth," and so I found during the day to my cost. On reaching the top of the ridge, which we did afler pro- ceeding about a mile, we saw a large basin, surrounded by high mountains, the road apparently runnhig around at their base, to avoid, as we thought, marshy gi'ound in the valley, and fi'om which a pretty creek took its rise. From the place where we stood we could see a line of dust all aroimd the basin, with A MONSTER SNAKE. 14'/ wagons moving on the opposite side. It seemed as if the road led out between a gap in the mountains to the south-east, in the direction which the creek ran, for we could trace its course by the willows. At a point nearly opposite, we judged the dis- tance to be about twelve miles ; and as it was the intention of the train to reach that place about noon and halt, I thought I could save six miles ti'avel by walking straight across, which I concluded to do. When going out alone I usually put a luncheon in my pocket, to guard against contingencies ; but with the straight forioard prospect before me, I deemed it un- necessary at this time, and accordingly started off' across the plain alone, unarmed, and without provisions. I trudged along leisurely, stopping to eat red and yellow currants, which grew in great abimdance, when, as I jumped over a little gully, my ears were suddenly saluted with a terrible, hissing noise. Looking forward about six feet, I saw a monstrous, hissing snake, with its head elevated from the ground at least two feet, its eyes flashing with anger, and apparently m the act of spring- mg upon me. The temptation of Eve must have been fi"om a different khad of serpent fi'om this, for as it ran out its forked tongue, and issued its loud hiss, there was more of defiance than of pursuasion in its tones and manner. On seeing the infernal reptile, I did just what anybody else would do on glancing at such play-things — I jumped aside about six feet, and then, ashamed of my own cowardice, I sprang towards him, as he was elevating his head still higher, either for fight or flight, (I could not tell which,) and brought him a blow with my trusty cane, which set the monster to groveling in the dust ; a few more strokes put him in a condition not to di^;tui"b the walks of future travelers. He was over six feet lou". When the 148 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. deed was done, I found my heart was palpitating somewhat faster than a lovers on confession, and with an eye out for any- thhig like snakes, I plodded on. At the distance of about four iniles I reached an elevation, from wloich I could see wagons moving in the basin around me on three sides, and satisfied that I could reach our noon halt long before our train, I lay down m the scaldmg sun, covering my eyes with my hat, and was soon sound asleep. I slept over an hour, and getting up I started on, but from the wet nature of the ground, Avas obliged to make a detour of nearly a mile below the place I intended to reach. On coming to the road, there were no trains in view, and oddly enough, the tracks of all the animals showed that they were going west instead of east. I was m a quandary, and hesitated for a while to determine my course. I finally concluded that the wagons would be above me, so I turned and followed the tracks. Afler going about a mile, I caught a sight of six wagons, standuig near the road side, and said to myself " all right," but I soon discovered that their hind ends were turned towards me, as if they were going back. I could not understand it. Ad- vancing still nearer, I saw that they were not our wagons, but those of another train. I did not know what to make of it ; and on gomg up I inquired, " Have you seen the Ottawa company pass ?" " No." " How long have you been here ?" " About an hour." " Why, they must have passed in that time. I saw them coming around the base of the hills not an hoiu' ago, and they must be near. Are there no trains camped near you ?'* « Not any." LOST AND IN A QUANDARY. 149 " You certainly must have camped near us last night, and we have been traveling together for some days, I imagine. What time tliis morning did you pass the Ottawa tram ?" " We do not know any such company." " Did you camp last night on the ridge, or on the branch ?" " We camped on this branch, about ten miles below." "Below! how can that be? The road follows down the branch." " No — we came up the branch." "Are you going to California ?" " Yes, we are on that road." " Tlien / must have got turned around in my sleep. I thought I was bound for California too, but I may be on the road to Sodom, for aught I know. Why, I came directly across the valley, and the road follows around the base of the hill fi-om yonder point." " Not this road," replied the speaker, who began to compre- hend my dilemma. « Why — what road is this ? How did you get here 1" " This is the road from Salt Lake, and we came that route." " Ah ! oh ! — the mystery is explained. I find that instead of walking m my sleep, I have only been making apleasm'e ex- cursion into the country for the benefit of air and exercise. O Lord !" I exclaimed, as I thought of the long miles to be re- traced before overtaking my train. I had walked across the valley and got into the Salt Lake road, and no one could tell how far it was to the junction, but I concluded to follow it, as I could stand it one day without provisions. I had a box of matches in my pocket, with which I could kindle a fire to sliicld me from the cold night air. It appeared, as I subsequently learned, that the Fort Hall road turned off from the basin, 150 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. through a narrow gorge which we could not see, and the Salt Lake road, with its flying dust and moving trains, gave us the impression that our road was there. Understanding my very- agreeable mistake and situation, they kindly invited me to dinner, when we mutually gave all the uiformation in our power to each other about the respective routes, and I gained much information about the Mormon City and its vicinity. After dinner I left my kind entertainers, determined to keep that road to its junction with the other, which I concluded could not be more than a day's travel at the furthest. Tlie afternoon was excessively warm, and the plain over which I was passing was destitute of water. I began to be thirsty. By degrees my mouth became dry and parched, and I experienced much torture. On the left, nearly a mile from the road, I saw a line of wil- lows, which experience had taught me was on the banks of a creek. Sufferuig intensely, I dragged myself to it, and found, alas ! the bed perfectly dry. I could not find a single drop. My tongue began to swell ; my mouth was dry, and I could scarcely articulate a word. I had often gone all day without water before without much inconvenience, but now, for some reason, it seemed as if the very fountain of moisture was dry- ing up. In this miserable state I dragged myself along for three miles further, thinking I must use a last resort, when I caught sight of a cluster of willows growing near an outcrop of rock. With but small hope I went to it, and directly at the foot of the rock a soft, miry spot showed indicMions of water. Stoop- ing down, with my hands I scooped out the mud, and to my great delight water began to run m. I could not wait for the mud to settle, but lay down to drink — faugh ! the water was so strong of sulphur, that, under any other circumstances, it jvould have made me vomit, but I drank enough to revive me, SAFE RETUUN TO THE TRAIN. 151 and then scooping the hole larger, I waited until it had settled, and then took a long and hearty draught. Nauseous as it was, it appeared the most delightful draught I ever had. After di'mking and resting a short time, my spirits revived, and I continued my journey. About a mile beyond I came to the junction of the roads, where there were many sticks set up, having slips of paper in them, with the names of passengers, and occasionally letters to emigrants still behind. A mile distant, on the Fort Hall road, there was a singular outcrop of rock, which was a curiosity. There were three points, in the sha2:)e of sugar loaves, sixty or eighty feet high, and these were surrounded by many lesser ones of the same shape, and I could compare them to nothing else but heathen deities, surrounded by their kneeling wor- shipers. Soon after passing the junction of ♦he roads, I met Rood, one of our train, who had been riding forward m search of grass, and by whom I learned that notwithstanding my erratic course, I had got aliead of our train. He had found a place for en- campmg in a basm about four miles farther, and I continued on to the appomted spot, where I arrived two hours before our company came up. I probably had gone only about five miles out of my way, and the road I came was much the best. We camped on the western side of the basin, where a small brook sank into the ground. Drive, fourteen miles. JULY 24 My predilection for going ahead afforded a subject of fun for the company. Henderson insisted that I must wear a guide- board on my back, or I would get lost altogether. Another said if I did not stray away I surely would be stolen ; while a 152 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. third advised me never to go out again without a sack of bread and a side of bacon. Ascending a narrow ravine to the rim of this basin, we found a rough country, with steep and sidling passes, while at every step, as we advanced, indications of high volcanic action became more apparent. Cones and colored hills, rocks which appeared as if they had been rent in twain, deep gullies in every rocky and rugged shape, were presented to our view. Yet the road lay over the most eligible ground, and we proceeded without accident till noon, when we descended to a little branch of Goose Ci'eek from a steep cliif, down which many let their wagons with ropes. Here we found one train whose mules were nearly worn down, and being unable to draw their wagons farther, they were constructing pack saddles, hoping to get through with life. They had abandoned all their wagons and much valuable property ; but this was notliing new. We almost daily saw wagons thus left, togetlier with chams, bars, and various utensils, which no- body thought worth picking up. Ailer our noon halt we ascended a hill and drove on to the wild, strange valley of Goose Creek. From the summit of the hill, a fine and peculiarly interests ing view was afforded. It had evidently been the scene of some violent commotion, appearing as if there had been a breaking up of the world. Far as the eye could reach, cones, tables, and nebulte, peculiar to the coimtry, extended in a confused mass, with many liills apparently white with lime and melted quartz — some of them of a combination of lime and sandstone — perhaps it might be called volcanic grit ; while others ex- hibited, in great regularity, the varied colors of the rainbow I have seen the broken liills exhibit, m parallel lines, white, red, brown, pink, green and yellow, and sometimes a blending of VOLCANIC REMAINS, 153 various colors. It is an interesting field for the geologist, as well as for the lover of the works of nature. We wer^e told that men were digging gold on Goose Creek, but this was un- true ; yet it is far from improbable that gold, or valuable min- eral, exists in those seared and scarified hills. On reaching the valley of the Creek, B. R. Thorne and myself, tired as we were, climbed to the top of a high table mountain which stood on the right of the road, and found the surface flat, and covered with melted debris, such as I have seen among the cinders of a blast furnace. The road up the valley was excellent, and night brought us to good quarters on the bank of the Q-eek. Smith, with I dew of having extras for supper, collected a quantity of fi-esh-water clams and crabs. The latter were very palatable when boiled, but even with a hungry stomach and long confinement on salt bacon, I could not relish the clams. Distance, seventeen miles. G* CHAPTER X. HOT SPKING VALLEY POST OFFICE DESTITUTE EMIGRANTS CHILL AND FE- VER A PARTY OF DIGGER INDIANS ANECDOTES THE GREAT BASIN HUMBOLDT, OR MARY's RIVER WILD FOWL APPETITE AND PROVISIONS NEWS FROM THE PLATTE SICKNESS AND ABANDONMENT OF MR. WARE INCIDENTS BY THE WAY INDIAN DEPREDATIONS MARy's RIVER NIGHT TRAVEL MORE TROUBLE FROM THE INDIANS WOLVES SLEEP- ING IN THE OPEN AIR. JULY 25. Our route to-day was tlirough a narrow vale, called Hot Springs Valley, occasionally opening into basins, with high, bare and rocky mountains around us. The hills were either white with lime, or presented the bleak aspect of the black trap-rocks in high and pei'jjendicular cliffs. We passed several springs which were so warm that the hand could hardly be borne in them ; yet within a few feet of one was a spring of pure, cold water. The grass was abundant and good, and we went on in as good spirits as our way-worn condition would allow. A little after noon we reached the extremity of the valley, where the road entered a rocky pass. Here we were told there was neither grass nor water for fifteen miles ; and as it was too late to drive through, we halted on the creek, which had dwindled into an *" insignificant stream. A little time before stopping, we overtook OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 155 the Hennepin company, but they passed on, having determined to enter the canon. They had lost three cattle since leaving Green Eiver, but otherwise had got along well. Near the close of the day, as I sat reading in the shade of my wagon, I was surprised at seeing Mr. I. SchafFer, an old kdiana acquaintance, ride into camp on horse back, in company with a gentleman named Beckwith, from Rock Island, Illinois. Mr. Schaffer informed me that they had started with three yoke of cattle and ample supplies, but finding themselves in the midst of a great crowd, and the grass so scanty as hardly to ' afford subsistence for their cattle, rather than run the risk of losing all, they disposed of them and purchased horses, and with the little they could carry, started oft; to get through as best they might. They eventually succeeded, but with much exposure and great suffering. They fully corroborated the account given by the express rider, of the sickness on the Platte, and the lamentable condition of the emigi-ants. One whole family were swept off by the cholera, except one little giri, who was kindly taken care of by strangers, and brought through. They shared the meagre fare which we could afibrd them, with shelter in our tent — the best we could give. Dis- tance, fifteen miles. JULY 26. " All hands ahoy ! — up and away," was shouted in our ears by day-break, and as soon as the cattle had sufficiently filled themselves, we entered the narrow gorge of Hot Springs Valley. In a few miles it opened upon a barren, rolling, rocky country, though on the whole the road was good. Li passmg up the' gorge, I attempted to jump across a narrow stream, but like thousands of others in the world, I missed my mark, and fell 15G LIFE ON THE PLAINS, into the water, a remarkable subject of disappointed ambition, although I " looked before I leaped." Squash, squash — I had my boots full of water, and should have drank it with pleasure while on the Mormon road, but here, my want of taste, and a recurrence to more refined ideas, would not permit ; so I emp- tied my boots on the ground, and ti'udged on ahead of the train. About ten miles in our progress, I saw, a little off the road, a natural circular wall of rock, shaded by a single tree. Tlie strange sight of a cooling shade led me up to it, and I found it to be an emigrant's post office. Several newspapers lay on the natural stone seats withm the walls, \nt\\ a written request to " read and leave them for others." Scrupulously complying witli this request, I looked them over, carefully folded and re- placed them, and went rejoicmg on my way. It was a long walk in the hot sand without water ; but after crossing the hills I found myself on the rim of another basin, and from the appearance of many wagons standing together on the plain below, I knew water was near. A mile more brought me to them, where I found a small stream of lukewarm water, flowing in a trifling brook imder the point of a rock. I drank freely, and then want an hundred I'ods and lay down under the shade of a lage sage bush, which screened my head from the sun. I soon began to feel stupefied and exhausted, and very sick at the stomach. I could not tell whether it was caused by the water I drank, or fi^om a bilious attack, but it came upon me almost uistantaneously, and when my wagon came up I crawled in, imable to do anything more for the day. At iiight, a man came to our camp who had taken a passage at St. Louis in tlie Pioneer line of spring wagons, which were adveilised to go tlirough m sixty days. lie was on foot, armed with a knife and pistol, and carried in a small knapsack all his THE LUXURY OF GOOD WATER. 157 worldly goods, except a pair of Wankets, whif-h were rolled up on his shoulders. He told us that at Willow Springs their mules gave out, and there was a general distribution of property, a small proportion of the passengers only obtaining mules, the rest being obliged to go a thousand miles without supplies, in the best manner they could, trusting to luck and the emigrants for provisions. The passengers had each paid two hundred dollars for their passage, but now, like the Irishman on the tow- path, were obliged to work it out. No emigrant would see him suffer under such circumstances, and we cheerfully sliared our poor fare with him. At the first water I parted from Schaffer and Beckwith, who pressed forward on their long and dubious journey. On leaving the brook, we jouraeyed on over a plain, where there was grass but no water ; and when night at length compelled us to stop, we found water by diggmg shallow wells in a moist place, but there was no grass at tliis point, and our cattle fared badly. The wind blew cold, and our condition was cheerless enough. Even the sage bushes were not plenty near the water, but our excessive weariness soon drowned all our troubles in sleep, after a hard drive of twenty miles. JULY 27 At daylight we were astir, and five miles brought us to grass, but without water. We halted four hours to let the oxen graze, and then proceeded across a plain a few miles, where we found brackish water in pools in the dry bed of a creek. The ground in many places was white with an effei'vescence of salt. Night found us on a broad valley with abundance of grass, and near a spring of pure cold water, ten feet deep. No one can fully appreciate the luxury of a good spring, without crossmg a 158 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. desert plain, destitute of this essential comfort fur the wants of man. Distance eighteen miles. JULY 28. I felt extremely well tliis morning, and starting off in advance of the company, I walked about four miles, when I came to a pretty brook, fringed with willows. I took the tin cup which hung fi'om a string in my button hole, and drank a hearty draught, and then lay down in the thick shade of bushes. Ycry soon I began to feel cold chills creeping along my back, and became satisfied that a day witliui the wagon was my fate. I felt almost discouraged when I reflected that that fell disease was gnawing at my heart ; but there was no help for it, and when my wagon came up, I turned in under the influence of chill and fever. During the day we left this valley, passing some hot sprmgs, and then by a gentle ascent, came as usual into another basin. The scenery was but little varied, and I was too ill to take notes. There was but little grass, and the water was poor and brackish. Tlie days were excessively warm, and the nights cold — ice being frequently found in our buckets half an uach thick. Drive, twenty mUes. JULY 29. I was under the operation of cathartics, and spent a most disagreeable day. It is mdeed hard to be sick in a wagon, wMe traveling under a burning sun, with the feeluigs of those around you so blunted by weariness that they will not take the trouble to administer to your comfort. At our noon halt we found good water, and a cup of tea revived me so much that I was able to walk some duruig the afternoon. Near our halting place we saw a party of Digger Indians, and I went over to ANECDOTE OF THE INDIANS. 159 them. As I approached, they advanced to meet me, offering their hands, and pronoimced in good English, " How de do^'' followed by " Whoa haiu ! " They had picked up these few words from the emigrants, and pronounced words after us with surprising correctness. They were entirely naked, except a breech-cloth — of a dark complexion, nearly as dark as a negro, and showed considerable obesity. Their stature was about five feet six to five feet eight inches, with well formed limbs. Each was armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows, neatly made, tipped with iron. They saluted every one who came up in the same way, laughing immoderately, and seemed a meny set of mountain rovers. An amusing story was told of Hudspeth's company, when crossing the mountains fi-om Bear River. His guide took them by the shorter route from Bear River, avoiding Fort Hall. The hidians had mostly retired to the hills, but they had learned a few English words fi-om the teamster's vocabulary. On Hudspeth's approach, they met him m the most cordial manner with, "How de do — whoa haw! G-d d — n you!" It was in fact the most common language of the drivers, hi short, the most profane swearmg was the common dialect of a great majority of the emigi-ants, and the poor Lidians only used it as a welcome to the whites. On another occasion a party were inquirmg for a good camping ground. They were assured that there was " plenty of grass for the whoa haivs, but no water for the G-d d — ns!" We fell in company this afternoon, with a poor fellow who was working his way to California on foot, his sole supplies being a small bag of flour on his back. His cattle had died, and he had bought a horse. Tliis, too, had died, and with a lame leg and a cancer on his hand, he was limping his way to 160 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. tliat bourne which was to salve all his aches and pains — the val- ley of the Sacramento. At our usual camping hour, we reached a beautiful valley of good grass, and a good spring of water, and turned oft' the road to it. Several of the' teams were un- yoked, when a thick coating of carbonate of soda was discov- ered among the bright green grass, A discussion took place respecting it, some declaring it was salt. I took a handftil, and mixmg it with water in a cup, applied a little tartaric acid, when it foamed and effervesced equal to any soda ua the world, showing its nature at once. In ten minutes the cattle were re- yoked, and we were nio\ang from this valley of death. That night six head of cattle died from the imprudence of a compa^ ny who encamped on the spot, and allowed their cattle to get at the alkali. AVe drove on four miles, and were obliged to stop where there was grass, but no water, and nothing was left for us but to do as we had done before — leave by day-light in the morning. Distance, eighteen miles. JULY 30. It had long been our desire to reach the great River of the Mysterious Basin. Our guide books assured us that for three hundred miles we should find good roads, with an abuuidance of grass and water. We therefore felt a curiosity to see a river flowing that distance, which had no outlet. We were now in the heart of the Great Basin, spoken of by Fremont. Since coming through the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains, it had been a continued series of basins, or valleys, siu-rounded by a rough, broken, and sterile country ; and although there was varied scenery in the route, yet here there was nothing to dis- tinguish it particularly from what we had already passed over. There was no line of demarcation other than the Rocky Moun- ARRIVAL AT HUMBOLD'l' RIVER. Ig] tain range ; and this is in fact the eastern boimdaiy of the Great Basin. By sunrise we had cbiven two miles, when, m sight of hun- dreds of wagons, we reached the celebrated Humboldt, or Mary's River, where we made a long halt for breakflist and forage Here we again overtook the Hennepm company, on whom we had gained a day and a half since leavhig Green River. The Humboldt is a small stream, perhaps thirty feet broad at this point, having a good current and pure water. It flows generally tln-ough a valley, several miles wide, with high and barren mountains on each side, which, occasionally coming near each other, the valley is contracted to rocky caverns which cannot be traveled. At such points the road leads over spurs of hwh hills, several miles across. Generally, on the margin of the stream and its immediate bottom, good grass is found, but sometimes the deep sand extends quite to the river, and forms Its banks. Game began once more to appear. Sage hens ducks, wild geese and cranes were very numerous, and easily killed. A few fish were m the streams, but we were unable to catch any with the hook. I was weak from continued disease still I was able to walk slowly nearly all day, and kept along' with the train without much difficulty. It was a strange tiling for us to have as many comforts as we found here, such as wood, water, grass and game ; and thesao-e hens and ducks made a delicious repast. To-day our su^ar was used up, and from this time we were obliged to drink our tea and coffee without sweetenmg. It is astonishing what appe- tites we had, and how much the stomach could digest. It seems almost insatiable. I have fi-equently ate four slices of bacon and drank a quart of coffee at a meal, and still felt a desire for more • and I have seen one of my mess druik half a gallon of coffee' 11 162 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. at a sitting. Tliis inordmate appetite, with the quantity of salt meat used, is probably one principal cause oft lie frequent cases of scurvy on the road. Fortunately, we had a large supply of vinegar and acid, which, together with our getting out of bacon sometime before our arrival m California, prevented any such disease m our company. When laymg in my supplies I bought one hundred pounds of sugar for four men, and it lasted only ninety days. Distance, eighteen raUes. JULY 31. This was a day of rest, and, as usual, wc were busy all day in renovating and repairing sundry goods, wares, and merchan- dise — washing and mending clothes, together with all such interesting occupations. AUGUST 1. The thought that another month would end our journeying, together with the rest which we had enjoyed, put us m good spirits this morning as we started offj and we made a good forenoon drive. As we were leaving our noon halt, we were agi'eeably surprised at seeing an old Ottawa acquaintance in the person of Charles Fisher, who rode up on horseback. Finding himself behind, in a great crowd, with a doubtful chance of getting through, he had sold his oxen and wagon at Fort Laramie, and purchasing a pack and ridmg horse, had come ahead. As he left home nearly a month later than wc did, his news was interesting to us, although it was but little more than that our friends were well. He confirmed the accounts of the siclcness of which wc had previously heard, and told us that the cholera extended as far as Chimney Rock. By him we learned that Mr. - ABANDONMENT OF JOSEPH E. WARE. ]63 Chipman, (formerly a merchant of Ottawa,) had lost his cattle in the great storm on the Platte, and had not found them when he left, and was remaining by the road side. He, however, recovered his cattle subsequently, and got through. I after- wards met him under melancholy circumstances on Feather Eiver. Many had abandoned the idea of reaching California this fall ; some passed on with the intention of wintermg at Salt Lake, while others turned about and returned to the States, discouraged. Those who did come on suffered incredible hard- ships in crossing the California m.oimtains. But the most lamentable case was that of the abandonment by his compan- ions, of Joseph E. Ware, formerly from Galena, but known in St. Louis as a writer, and if I recollect right, the publisher of a map and guide-book to California. He was taken sick east of Fort Laramie, and his company, instead of affording liira. that protection which they were now more than ever bound to do, by the ties of common humanity, barbarously laid him by the road side, A^athout water, provisions, covering or medicines, to die ! Suffering with thirst, he contrived to crawl off" the road about a mile, to a pond, where he lay two days, exposed to a burning sun by day and cold winds by night, when Providence directed Fisher and his mess to the same pond, where they found him. With a humanity wliich did them honor, they took him to their tent and nursed him two days ; but nature, over- powered by exposure as well as disease, gave way, and he sank imder his sufferings. He told Fisher who he was, and related the story of his company's heartlessness. He was a young man of decided talents. Fisher was confident that if he had had medicines and proper attendance he might have recovered. What misery has not California brought on individuals ? — and this is but one of the many tales of suff*ering which might be 164 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. told. This liciiig my night to guard the cattle — a practice which we had resumed on getting into the Digger country — I shoul- dered my rifle, and wading the river, commenced my rounds. Distance, eighteen miles. AUGUST 2. Mr. Fisher took leave of us this morning ; and, as he inten- ded to go to San -Francisco, we gave him the letters wliich we had prepared at Fort Hall, to be mailed on his arrival ; but they never reached the States, and the first intelligence which our fiiends obtained from us was by letters written after our arrival in Sacramento. Mr. Fredenburgh was verj^ successful in hunting to-day, and returned at noon, loaded down \\ath ducks and sage hens, and we fixred sumptuously. At night we encamped near where there were two roads — one leading through a rocky point, which can be traveled in low water by fording the stream sev- eral times, the other a mountain road for ten miles, without grass or water. Distance, fifteen miles. AUGUST 3. Walking on in advance of my companions, without being aware at the time that the road around the mountain was pas- sable, and seeing all the wagons of other trains turning up the mountain gorge, I also followed it up an ascent of three miles, when, on arriving at the summit, as usual, a barren and rough country lay before me, with the deep canon of the' river far below. Eeposing under the shade of a sage bush lay a mem- ber of the Hennepin company, whose name I forget, but a very clever fellow by the way, and joining him we walked on. Soon we became so thirsty that we were obliged to descend the steep INDIAN HOSTILITIES, 1(55 Side of the mountain to the river, which we found was a some- what intricate and toilsome task. Here we found the other road, which was level and good, with plenty of gi-ass, and we followed it several nules to the junction of the two roads. Our train did not come up, and we became so hungry that we applied to a company encamped on the river, who were from Columbia, Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, for dinner, which was cheerfully given, and I found Colonel Halderman to be a well educated gentleman, to whose hospitality I was in- debted. It seems that our train discovered the cafion road, and preferred it, thereby saving many hard hills and something m distance, havmg good water all the way. Finding a good encampment, they halted for noon three miles below, and did not come up in three hours. There was a good deal of vexation among the emigrants who took the mountain road, on learnino- the character of the lower one, and they immediately called the long, hard, mountain trail the Greenhorn Cut-off — a name which it still bears. Our afternoon drive was on a good road along which the valley resumed its usual breadth and character. Mr, Bryant speaks of cotton-wood trees and willows, Mhich fringed the banks of the Humboldt. The place at which I dined was the only pomt where I observed anything that could be called a tree in the whole length of the river, all the rest being shrubs of a few varieties, and willows. Manifestations of Indian hostility began to appear. We saw an ox which had been shot during the night with arrows, which were found stick- ing m him in the morning. The same company lost several head of oxen the same night, and taking their trail into the mountains, found the remains of two, which the Lidians had slaughtered and cjiten. Drive, eighteen mUes. 166 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. AUGUST 4. One of the most disagreeable things in traveling through this country is the smothering clouds of dust. The soil is pai'ched by the'sun, and the earth is reduced to an impalpable powder by the long trains of wagons, while the sage bushes prevent the making of new tracks. Generally we had a strong wind blowing fi'om the west, and there was no getting rid of the dust. We literally had to eat, drink, and breathe it. Two miles be- low our encampment the mountains agam reduced the valley to a caiion, which was impassable for wagons, and we were obliged to cross a spur, eighteen miles m extent, before we reached the river again. I was taken -\\ith dysentery during the night, and being too weak to walk, I had to take up uncomfortable quarters in my " moving lodge." On arrivang at the river, after passing the rough mountain, I felt much better, and spreading my buffalo skin in the open air, slept well. From this time till we reached the valley of the Sacramento, I discarded the tent altogether, and from choice slept in the open air -without inconvenience, and mdeed long after I reached California. Distance, twenty miles. AUGUST 5. The weather was excessively warm during the da}', but the nights were cool, and we determined to change the order of our traveling ; that is, to lay by during the day, and travel at night. For the purpose of arranging this, we made only a short drive, and then lay up on a fine bottom. Distance, six miles. We started off a little before sundo-\vn. The evening was cloudy, but the moon gave light enough for us to see our way, and in the cool air we made excellent progress. There were no trains moving but our o%\ii, and it was decidedly more pleas- BAD TRAVELING. IHI ant than ti-aveling in the hot sun. I walked forward some miles, with my blankets on my back, when, comuig to a cross- ing in the river, I lay down and slept till the train came up. After crossing I resumed my solitary walk. The road at one point lay along the bank of the river, and Henderson, who drove the cattle, being nearly asleep at the moment, walked oft" the bank where it was six or eight feet high, and brought up " all standing," knee deep in water, skinning his nose agamst the willows, and cooling his nether extremities with a sudden and involuntary bath. However, he scrambled out right side up, and with his usual " whoa haw," &c., w\is plowing the ankle- deep dust again. I made a compromise with him, offering my old ox, of Green River memory, against his Mary's River bath, thinking that in the way of joking it was " a long road that had no turn." By daylight we had made twelve miles. AUGUST 6. The day was chiefly spent among the willows, or in the shade of our wagon, in the service of Morpheus, until the sun was about two hours high, when, lashing my blankets to my back, in company with Charley Traverse, I set out on my night's walk. The road was down, a level valley, bounded by high mountains, as usual, and the river very serpentine in its course. We advanced at a good pace for some hours, when we came to the point of a mountain, on going around which we found the road stony and bad for a mile. After that every step was in dust ankle deep, making the walking extremely laborious. Indian depredations were becoming fi'equent. The utmost vigilance became necessary in guarding cattle and mules. The hidians seemed to have as cruel a taste for beef as the Irishman's cow had for music, when she ate Paddy the piper, pipes and all. 168 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. We fell in company with a Missouri train, who the night before had five head of cattle stolen. The hidians had run them up a bank, so steep that it hardly seemed possible for an animal to go up. The company followed theii' tracks twenty-five miles, when they found them with all the cattle slaughtered, and pre- parations for a grand feast going on. Tlie hidians, however, did not wait to welcome their imexpected guests, but fled at their approach to save their own bacon, for the men would most assuredly have shot them had they remained. Scarcely a night passed without their makmg a raid upon some camp, and for five hundred miles they were excessively troublesome. If they could not drive the animals off, they would creep up behind the sage bushes in the night and shoot arrows into them, so that the animals would have to be left, when they would take them after the trains had passed. Durmg the night it became a common practice for those on duty to discharge their firearms fi-cquontly, to show the Digger banditti that they were on the alert, but this precaution was not always eff*ectual, and as we advanced, the tribes became more bold. They cannot be seen in the day- time, but at night they prowl about like vicious beasts, and pounce upon their prey with comparative safety. After walking about twelve miles we turned aside from the road and lay down in a water-worn gutter, our train passing us about one o'clock, intending to go about eight miles across the plain to the river, where we joined them at breakfast in the morning. Distance, twenty miles. ' AUGUST 7. The Hennepin company lost five head of cattle and two horses during the night. As soon as the loss was discovered, sixteen men set off" to the mountains in pursuit. After going INDIAN DEPREDATIONS. 169 up a gorge sometliing like six miles, they recoyercd four liead. The Diggers had killed one ox, and succeeded in getting off with the horses. Another company lost ten head, and another four, ui spite of all their vigilance. Not a day passed without hear- mg of similar depredations, and the emigrants resolved to pur- sue and chastise the robbers, if possible, in every instance. In some cases this led to severe combats, and it was found that instead of being frightened at the sound of a gun, they would often stand and fight man to man with the most desperate courage, though they were usually defeated on account of the superior weapons wliich the emigrants used. If under any cir- cumstances the Indians came into a camp, they were hospitably treated, and provisions given them, but war was declared to iilie knife when they made an inroad. Captain Fredenbui'gh was my companion for the night, and ifter a walk of fourteen miles over a smooth road, we spread jur blankets by the road side among the sage bushes. The aight was " made hideous " by the mcessant howling of wolves all aromid us, who often came within a few rods of us, keeping up an infernal serenade ; but as they did not otherwise molest us, we returned the compliment by Icttuig them alone. At the dawn of day, we roused up, and left the river. Passing around the point of a small hill, we again came upon the broad valley. Beyond this, for many mUes, there was nothing but sage, except the Willows which marked the course of the river. The ashy dust was very deep, and when we turned aside to find better walking, the parched and dry alkaline crust broke under our feet like frozen snow, making it excessively fatiguing to walk. A wallv of six miles brought us to ctimp. The boys were enjoying a quiet snooze, and we cooked our own brealdlists, which we relished much. The valley was about fifteen miles H no LIFE ON THK PLAINS. wide, with grass growing only along the borders of the river. We began to observe a difference in the volume of water in the river at intervals. Sometimes it decreased materially, then again it was full and deep. The water began to be warm and slightly brackish, but still it answered all purposes for use, without deleterious consequences. Distance, twenty miles. AUGUST 8. Reports of Indian depredations continually reached us, and perhaps one cause of our own good fortune m not losuig cattle, was on account of traveling at night — thus having them con- stantly ' under our charge at the hour when they were most lilcely to be stolen. At the usual hour for settuig out at night, Charley Traverse accompanied me in my walk, and we weftt at least fifteen miles without halting. Scarcely had we spread om* blankets and lam down before the wolves commenced their usual music, and they approached so near that sleep was out of the question. Several times they came within two rods of us, and our pistols were cocked to give them a salute, but on rising up they retreated so far that we could not hit them, and we felt unwilling to thi'ow away a shot. Fires were kept burn- mg m camps not very distant, and the discharge of firearms was almost continuous, so that between tlie discharge of musketry, and the howling of wolves, sleep was impossible, tired as we were. As soon as the faint streaks of day began to gild the horizun, \\'c sot out to follow the trai i, as usual, which had laid over aliout six miles beyond us. We passed tlu'ough a narrow valley, made by the approach of the mountains to 4he river, where we saw the palace of a "merry moimtain Digger." It was simply a cleft in the rocks — a kind -of cave, strewn with wild gi'ass, and might have SLEEPING ON THE GROUND. 171 served equally well for the habitation of a Digger king, or a grizzly bear. On leaving home it looked like a hardship to sleep upon the ground, but habit had changed us so completely that I could sleep as well and sweetly on a bare rock, as upon a bed of down. After our sumptuous meal of bacon and hard bread, we enjoyed the luxury of a quiet snooze in the thick shade of the willows along the bank. Distance twenty miles. CHAPTER XI. BROKEN SURFACE OF THE COUNTUV VISIT TO LIEUT. THOMPSON'S CAMP COL. KINKEAD BAD NEWS FROM THE SINK PASTIMES LEFT THE HUMBOLDT RIVER JOURNEY OVER THE DESERT SUFFERINGS FOR WANT OF GRASS AND WATER A MOTHEr's AFFECTION FOR HER CHILD THE OASIS IN THE DESERT HOT-SPRINGS. *fc^ IS? AUGUST 9. The scenery during the last two days had been growhig more interesting. Tlie lulls were higher and much more broken, showuig the upheavings to have been much greater, and the dislocation of black trap-rock more prominent than at points higher up the valley. Sometimes valleys seemed to cross each other at right angles, affording extended views in opposite di- rections, whUe the mountains seemed jumbled into a confused mass of sharp points, cones, and nebulae. The river, fi-om being fifty or sixty feet broad, was now but about twenty, and instead of its original purity, its water had become discolored like the Platte. Its bends are oflen circuitous, and as gi-ass was found only along its banks, we accordingly followed its course, in- creasing the distance much beyond the amount actually gained. The soil continued much the same. A quarter of a mile fi-om the river it was a sand, or ashy plain, bearing notliing but sage or gre^ewood bushes, without water of any kmd. As no one seeme'd disposed to accompany me this evening, I set out alone, TRAVELING IN THE NIGHT. 173 having first put my pistol in good shooting order. For ten miles the road was over deep quick-sand. Thinking that to walk barefoot would be easier, I pulled off my boots and stoek- mgs, but the dry sand, grinduig between my toes, soon made them so sore that I was glad to resume their covering. We now found that other trams had adopted our course of travel- ing at night. That day and night the road was thronged with moving emigrants. I had gone only twelve miles, when, being worn out by the labor of walking in the sand, I scooped out a bed with my hands, and laid down and slept so soundly, that I did not know when the train passed me. Towards daylight it became so cold that I could not keep warm, and when the morning star showed itself, I rolled up my blankets and set for- ward. A little after sunrise, on commg to a lateral valley, which extended many mUes on the right, I discovered two ob- jects lying in the road nearly in the wagon track, and coming up, found that it was Brown and Qiarles Traverse, who were quietly enjoying a sleep, where they could be conveniently run over by some passing wagon. Rousing them up, we followed the main valley about two miles, where we found our compa- ny encamped nearly a mUe fi'om the road, on the bank of the river. Distance, eighteen irdles. AUGUST 10. Reports began to reach us of hard roads ahead ; that there was no grass at the Sink, or place where the river disappears in the sands of the desert, and that from that place a desert of sand, with water but once m forty-five miles, had to be crossed. In our worn-out condition tlois looked discouraging, and it was with a kmd of dread that we looked to the passage of that sandy plain. At the same time an mdefinite tale was circulated 174 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. among the emigi-ants, that a new road had been discovered, by which the Sacramento might be reached in a shorter distance, avoiding altogether the dreaded desert ; and that there was plenty of grass and water on. the route. It was said, too, that on this route the Sierra Nevdda Mountains could be crossed with but little difficulty, while on the other it was a work of great labor and some risk. Near us was encamped Lieutenant Thompson, of the Navy, who had been in California, and who had once made a trip overland to the States, As it was an o]> ject to avoid the desert spoken of, we thought it worth while to gain all the intelligence possible on the matter; therefore, Colonel Kinkead, of Missouri, who was emigrating with his family, Mr. Fredenburgh and myself visited Lieutenant Thomp- son, for the purpose of making uiquiries. The Lieutenant was on his return to California with his family, having leave of ab- sence, and was now on his way to join his ship at San Francisco. His information was simply the report of others — that there was a good road leading into the upper part of the valley some- where ; that the desert would be avoided, and that grass and water were plenty ; but that the hidians were very bad. On the whole, this prepossessed us with a favorable ophiion of the route, but we did not make up our minds on the subject at the time, yet we did soon enough, however, as the sequel wUl show. On leaving the camp, alone, I walked ten miles. Becoming tired, I scooped a hole m the sand, and slept till the cold morning air awoke me, when I walked with stiftened limbs into camp. Distance, fifteen mUes. AUGUST 11. In consequence of the reported hard route before us, the boys Hgain shortened the rumung-gear of the wagons to eight feet, to DESTITUTION OF EMIGRANTS. 175 make them ran easier, but as for our loads, they were light enough. Although our outfit had been ample, while traveling along the Platte, Henderson became so alarmed at its weight, that he insisted on throwmg away much bacon, which he did by tiying out the lard for wagon grease — a measure which I foolishly consented to, not knowing the capability of oiu' aittle, but which eventually proved a subject of regi'et to our mess. The scenery continued much the same ; the atmosphere began to be smoky, and 1 will observe here that it continued more or less so — indeed, until the rams of the succeeding winter cleared it off. There were a great many men daily passing, who, havhig worn down then* cattle and mules, had abandoned their wag- ons, and were trymg to get tlirough as they might ; but their woe-begone countenances and meagre accoutrements for such a journey, with want and excessive labor staring them hi the face, excited our pity, wretched as we felt ourselves. Our own cat- tle had been prudently driven, and were still in good condition to perform the journey. Although our stock of provisions was getting low, we felt that under any circumstances we could get through, and notwithstandhig we felt anxious, we were not dis- couraged. Roports here reached us that the emigrants were cutting grass twenty miles above the Smk to feed their cattle with on the desert — a measure vfhich we intended to adopt, should we conclude not to take the cut-off by the northern route. Distance, fifteen miles. AUGUST 12. We concluded to return to our old practice of traveling in the daytime instead of at night, and therefore remained in camp until morning. 176 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. AUGUST 13. We made but a short drive, and encamped on a high sandy plain, with a good grassy bottom below, near Colonel Kinkead. Our guide books told us that our next day's drive would be fifteen miles, over deep sand, without grass or water — a kind of intelligence no way agreeable to us. Drive, fifteen miles. AUGUST 14. Contrary to our expectations, we discovered an excellent road along the river. There were, in fact, two roads — the upper, or sand road, was ti'aveled -\\'hen the river was over- flowed, as it was in the early part of the season. ; and most of the ti'ains took it now through ignorance, but we were fortu- nate m getting on the lower one, where we had the comfort of water. By noon we reached a capital encampment, twelve miles from our starting pomt of the morning. Among the pleasant acquamtances wliich I made on this journey, was that of Colonel Kinkead and flimily. He was originally from Kentucky, but had removed to Piatt county, Missouri, where he had a fine plantation, and was well estab- lished. The information which he received from California, of its climate, soil, and various advantages, gave him a desire to make it his permanent residence ; and having an opportunity of sellhig out to advantage, he embraced it, and with liis fam Uy and several negroes belonging to him, joined the grand em igration of 1849. He was a gentleman of education and much urbanity, and was fully imbued with that hospitahty which is characteristic of his native State, and wliich •times of scarcity and trial cannot change. He had, with el^^elves, a favorable impression with regard to the new route, and more especially as his cattle Avere much worn do-\vii, and it was somewhat prob- COLONEL KINKEAD AND FAMILY^ 177 lematical if they could pass the desert. As our camps were contiguous at our noon halt, I stepped over to confer with him relative to some new information, or rather rumors, respecting the northern road. His eldest son was a tolerable performer on the violin, and while sitting in his camp he gave us a few tunes to wliile away the time. When I was about retixrning, he invited me in such a hearty, cordial manner to stay and dine, that I could not refuse. Had it been at his home, I should have felt no delicacy in accepting the invitation ; But here, thi'ee or four hundred miles fi-om any supplies, where but few have more than they actually required for themselves, I felt like an intruder ; but the Colonel would accept of no apology. In addition to our usual traveling fare, with an excellent cup of coffee we had a delicious pic, made of a nameless (to me) fi'uit, which grows in abimdance along the river in this part of the valley. It is about the size of a currant, growing in clusters on shrubs from four to ten feet liigh, and its taste partakes of the flavor of both the currant and cherry. It is as agreeable as either, and made into pies, or stewed, is delicious. Miss Kin- kead presided at our table, (which was a buffalo skin spread on the gi'ound,) and certainly with as much ease and grace as if it had been in a drawing room, at a mahogany table with brass castors. My dear reader, if you ever travel across the plain, by the time you reach the Humboldt you will know how to appreciate a good dinner, and manners approaching to anythuig like elegance. Ah ! pork and bread and long travel are sad levelers of refinement. We made a long noon halt for the benefit of our cattle, in order to keep them inaglpd order to cross the desert, provided we should conclude to do so. We now heard what proved to be true, that great numbers of cattle had perished there ; H* 12 178 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. that the road was lined with their carcasses, and the effluvia arising fi-om their dead bodies was insufferable, and that there was much sickness among the emigrants. While Colonel Kinkead and Mr. Traverse rode ahead to find an encampment, Mr. Fredenburgh and I went on foot about five miles, and at dusk came to the spot selected by our pioneers for camping. It was near several trains — one fi'om Lexhigton, Missouri, Captain English ; another from Bloomington, Dlmois. Soon after our arrival, a Mr. Hammer, belonging to the latter com- pany, brought out a banjo and gave quite an amusing concert of negro songs, and we had a merry time by the light of the fire. While Hammer was playing, one of Colonel Kinkead's negi'oes came in, and notwithstanding he had been walkmg all day, he found the music irresistible. He " jumped Jim Crow" in a perfect break-down style, amid shouts of laughter and cheering from the whole crowd. From here to the Sink it was said there was but little grass, it having been consumed by the trains in advance. Distiuice sixteen miles. AUGUST 15. Leanimg that the northern road turned off" about three miles below, we moved down, and turning our cattle out, held a con- sultation with regard to our course. A man on horseback reported that he had rode tliirty miles out on the route ; that in ten miles there was grass, m twelve grass and water, and m twenty, gi'ass and water m abundance ; and on reaching Rabt>it Springs, a distiince of thirty-five miles, all difficulty would be ended. Others said that for thuty.five miles there was neither grass nor water ; that the road did not go to California at all, but to Oregon, and that the Indians were troublesome and bad. Some said that only half a dozen trains had gone that way ; KORTHERN ROUTE OVER THE DESERT. 179 that they were led by McGee, a man who had lived in Califor- nia, and was well acquainted with the country, and who expect- ed to find a route over the mountams. Colonel Kinkead was anxious to take this route, but his fam- ily becoming alarmed on hearing of the hostility of the Lidians, and the doubts and perplexities of going tlu'ough an unknown, mountainous country, finally induced the Colonel to abandon the idea, and keep on the old beaten track — a measure which was most happy for him, and proved that woman's fears are at least sometimes well-grounded. It was decided, finally, that we would go the northern route, although some of our company had misgivings. The younger portion being fond of adventiire, were loud in favor of the road. As we had been assured that there was grass and Avater on the way, we did not think it necessary to provide against these contingencies, any further than fiHiiig a smalb vinegar keg with water, for the purpose of getting over the first thirty miles, wliich, as it appeared a little doubtful in the way of essentials, we concluded to drive at night. Yoking up the cattle a little before sunset, and bidding adieu to Colonel Kmkead and family, we started off, Mr. Fredenburgh and myself walking ahead. We lefl the Humboldt sixty-five miles above, where it disap- pears in the sands, continuing down its valley for two hundred and thirty-five miles. A lateral valley led far to the north, and in the middle, towards the northern boundary, tall, irregular buttes arose, wliile high mountains were on each side. Our course was in a north-west direction, across the plain, towards a gorge, through Avhich the road ran. The soil had the appear- ance of fine dry ashes, or clay, without its tenacity — rendering the walking hard. At the distance of ten miles we entered the gorge, but instead of grass there was only the wild sage on a 180 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. ' discolored soil. As we slowly wound up the gorge, scarcely able to crawl from fatigue, we felt the dubiousness of our ex- periment. The thought of our Namalia wanderings came upon us, and we did not altogether relish the idea of becoming [sraelitish again. It was eleven o'clock before Mr. Fredenburgh and I reached the springs, which were a mile ofl' the road ; and suffering from thirst we took our cups and quailed the first di'aught of pure, cold water which we had drunk for many days. We found a mule train camped ai'ound it, and, spreading our blankets, we soon forgot our weariness ui sleep. Distance, twelve miles, AUGUST 16. Daylight showed us nothing but rugged, barren mountains, and instead of the grass Ave had been assured of, there was not a blade to be seen. All that there had been grew on a little moist place, irrigated by three small springs, and this trifle had all been consumed by advance trains. The water from the springs sank into the ground within five rods of their source, and entirely disappeared. It was now twenty miles or more to Rabbit Springs, the next water. Our wagons had passed du- ring the night, and were far in advance, so that we had the pros- pect of a late brealvfast before us. Taking a parting drink from the pure fountain, we pursued our way in a north-west direc- tion up the gorge to the ridge, and then following down another ravine. At the distance of five miles fi^om the spring we were upon the north-eastern rim of another barren sand-basin, in view of a broken country far beyond. About the centre of this basin, we overtook a wagon, standing by the road-side, when we begged for a drop of water ; but, alas ! they had none for themselves, and we were obliged to go on without. Cross. SUFFERINGS IN THE DESERT. 181 ing the basin and ascendmg a high hill, we overtook our train, just entering another defile on the north-west, when we refresh- ed ourselves with a cup of tea, made from the acid water of our vinegar keg. It revived us, and we pushed forward, anxious to reach the jjromised spring, for our cattle as well as ourselves stood greatly in need of water. The day was excessively Avarm, yet we hurried on, and descending a couple of miles through a defile, we passed the most beautiful liills of colored earth I ever saw, with the shades of pink, white, yellow and green brightly blended. Volcanic mountains were around us, and under ordi- nary circumstances we could have enjoyed the strange and peculiar scenery. Turning westerly, we pressed on through a small basin beyond the defile, when, after ascending a little elevation,- the glad shout was raised, " I see where the spring is !" Several wagons had stopped in the road, and a knot of men were gathered around a particular spot, which marked the place of the glorious demerit, and Avith parched tongues we went up. Judge of our disappointment, when we found the promised springs to be only three or four wells sunk in the ground, into which the water percolated in a volume about the size of a straw, and each hole occupied by a man dipping it up with a pint cup, as it slowly filled a little cavity in the ground. Each man was taking his turn to driiik, and we had ample time to get cool before our turn came to taste the muddy water ; and as to getting a supply for our cattle, it was out of the ques- tion. Beyond us, far as we could see, was a barren waste, without a blade of gi"ass or a drop of water for thirty miles at least. Listead of avoidmg the desert, instead of the promised water, grass, and a better road, we were in feet upon a more dreary and wider waste, without either grass or water, and with a harder road before us. We had been inveigled there by false 182 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. reports and misrepresentation, without preparing for such a con tmgencj, as we might have done, in some measure, by cutting grass on the river. Our train came up, followed by others What was to be done 1 It was thirty-five miles to the river and about the same distance to the spring ahead. Should we go back ? Our cattle had already gone without food or water nearly thirty hours. Could they stand it to go back ? Could they possibly go forward 1 Wliile we were deliberating, four wagons came in from the west on their return. They had driven ten miles on the plain, and seeing no probability of reaching water, they com- menced a retrograde movement for the river. A few of our older men hesitated, and were of the opinion that prudence dic- tated that we should return to the river, where we were sure of the m cans of going forward, rather than launch out into the uncertainties before us. But the majority, without knowing anything of the geography of the country, decided that they might as well go forward as back — trusting to luck more than to judgment — a measure which reduced us to weeks of con- tinued toil and mcreased hardships. We came to the deter- mination that we would wait till near sunset, as the cattle could travel better without water in the night than by daylight. During the afternoon a poor fellow from Illinois, named Gard, whom we had traveled with on Goose Creek, and who was emigrating with his family, came in, after having gone on to the desert about six miles. His cattle were exhausted, and it was impossible in their present condition to go either forward or backward, and it appeared to us all that his case was sad indeed, with a family of small children. If his cattle had given out entirely, the emigrants would have done all they could ; yet, in a burning house each one is apt to think more of his SUFFERINGS FROM THIRST. 183 own safety than of his neighbor's. WhUe standing at the well, I recognized Colonel Watkins, who, with all his judgment, had fallen mto the same trap with us. He had driven over the desert about four miles, when the cattle of liis train gave out. Two of them he got back to the spring, and got a little water for them, which, with a small quantity of flour, revived them so that they got through. One dropped down in the road, when the Colonel took two pails and returned to Rabbit Springs twice in a day, for two successive days, and carried water, which he dipped up with a pint cup, and gave the exhausted animal, thus saving his life. Tlie other cattle were unyoked and driven tlnrough to Black Rock Spring ; when, after recruiting a day, they were brought back, and hauled the wagon in. While laying by dm-ing the day at Rabbit Springs, I had a visit from my old enemy, chill and fever, but luckily it was slight, and although it weakened me I was able to walk after it. We started about six o'clock, with anxious hearts and sad fore? bodings, on our perilous journey. We were on a level plain of ashy earth, where notliing grew but a few stunted sage and greasewood bushes, with barren mountains shading the horizon in the distance on the north and south. Our cattle traveled well, for they had thus far been prudently driven, and were in good heart, and we began to think it possible for us to get tlu:"ough without leaving our wagons. About midnight, be- coming worn out, I turned aside from the road, and spreading my blankets, was lost to the world and to myself in sleep, till the morning sun was shining on my eyelids. Even the wolves did not awake me. Distance from first spring, forty mQes. 184 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. AUGUST 17. As I walked on slowly and with effort, I encoimtered a great many animals, perisliing for want of food and water, on the desert plam. Some would be just gasping for breath, others unable to stand, would issue low moans as I came up, in a most disti-essing manner, showing intense agony ; and still others, unable to walk, seemed to brace themselves up on their legs to prevent flilling, while here and there a poor ox, or horse, just able to drag himself along, would stagger towards me with a low sound, as if begging for a drop of water. My sympathies were excited at their sufferings, yet, instead of affording them aid, I was a subject for relief myself. High above the plain, in the direction of our road, a black, bare mountain reared its head, at the distance of fifteen miles ; and ten miles this side the plains was flat, composed of baked earth, without a sign of vegetation, and in many places covered with incrustations of salt. Pits had been sunk in moist places, but the water was salt as brine, and utterly useless. Before leaving Rabbit Spring I had secured about a quart of water, in an india-rubber flask, which I had husbanded with great care. When a few miles from Black Rock Spring, I came to a wagon, standing in the road, in which was seated a young man, with a child. The little boy was crying for water, and the poor mother, with the tears running down her cheeks, was trying to pacify the little sufferer. " Where is your husband 1 " I inquired, on going up. " He has gone on with the cattle," she rephed, " and to try to get us some water, but I thinlc we shall die before he comes- back. It seems as if I could not endure it much longer." " Keep up a stout heart," I returned, " a few more miles will A MOTHER S LOVE, 185 bring us in, and we shall be safe. I have a little water left : I am strong and can wallc in — you are welcome to it." " God bless you — God bless you," said she, grasping the flask eagerly, " Here, my child — here is water!" and before she had tasted a drop herself, she gave her child nearly all, which was but little more than a teacupflill. Even m distress and misery, a mother's love is for her children, rather than for herself. The train had passed me in the night, and our cattle traveled steadily without faltermg, reacliing the spring about nine o'clock in the morning, after traveling nearly forty hours without food or water. If ever a cup of coffee and shce. of bacon was rel- ished by man, it was by me that morning, on arriving at the encampment a little after ten. We found this to be an oasis in the desert. A large hot spring, nearly three rods in diameter, and very deep, irrigated about twenty acres of ground — the water cooling as it ran off! But we found the grass nearly consumed, and our cattle could barely pick enough to sustain life. The water in the spring was too hot for the hand ; but around it there was formed a natural basin, with the water sufficiently cool to bathe in, and I, with many others, availed myself of the opportunity to take a thorough renovation, which we found exceedingly refi'eshing. Everything around bore the marks of intense volcanic action. A little above the s^ing was the mountain which we had seen from the plain, a bare pile of rock, that looked like a mass of black cmders, while at its base were fragments of lava and cinders, which resembled those of a blacksmith's forge. Des- olation reigned around in the fullest extent. The desert and the mountains were all the eye could view beyond the lit- tle patch of grass, and the naked salt plain which we had crossed, 186 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. proved to be the dry bed of Mud Lake. After the snows melt on the mountains, and the spring rains come on, the plain is a reservoir for the waters, making an extensive lake, which the hot sun of a long summer evaporates, leaving its bed dry and bare. Far to the south was another gorge, bounded on the east by a light gray granite mountain, which led to Pyramid Lake, and was the route taken by Fremont to California, on his return from Oregon. Beyond the Black Rock Mountam were other peaks, which united with a chain north of us, and along the base of wliich we were to travel in a westerly course. Learning that two miles beyond there was another and larger oasis, towards evenhig we resolved to go to it. Just before starting, I climbed to the top of Black Rock hill. As I ascend- ed towards the summit, the air gi-ew cold, and on the top I was met by a rain and hail storm, which chilled me through, though only a few drops fell at the base. I was glad to hurry down into a warmer climate, and follow in the wake of our train. At the second oasis we found better grass, but it was so filled with boiling springs, that there was danger in leaving cattle there, hi one spring we saw the hide and horns of some poor ox that had probably fallen in and boiled to death, and in some places we had to ti'ead with care, lest we should step into one ourselves, through the tall grass. We were told of another fine oasis, five miles beyond this, where there was every requi- site for a good camp, and we dro-s e on with the hitention of giving our cattle and ourselves rest at the first good stoppuig place. Distance, twenty-two miles. CHAPTER XII. HOT SPRINGS APPLEGATe's ROUTE ONWARD OVER THE DESERT MORE INDIAN THEFT IN PURStTIT OF THE INDIANS DISTRESSING REPORTS FROM THE DESERT QUANTITIES OF DEAD CATTLE AND HORSES RE- MARKABLE CURIOSITY CANON THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS STANDING SENTRY TRAVELERS FROM OREGON LAKE OF SALT WATER FRESH BEEF. AUGUST 18. On looking around us we saw a beautiful plat of green grass, covering about an hundred acres, which was irrigated by the water of several hot springs. Two of these were very large, and from them ran a rivulet of sufficient capacity to turn a mill ; but fifty rods below the brook was too hot to bear the hand m. The water in the springs was clear and deep, and hot enough to boil bacon. We boiled our coffee by setting the coffee-pot in the water. Near them was one of lukewann wa- ter, another of magnesia, and one that was quite cold. All these were within the space of a quarter of an acre. We fomid about fifty teams lying over to recruit their cattle, after having lost a good many in the transit to Black Rock Spring. McGee had left his team here and gone forward to explore the road, and as he owned two or three wagons, loaded with goods, we could not doubt his intention of leading us through if possible. 188 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. We ascertained, on coming np, that we were on Applegate's route of 1846, when he went with two parties, one of wWch went to California — succeeding in getting through, though after experiencing much hardship ; and the other, after losing all their wagons, animals and goods in the Cascade Mountains, were rescued from death by parties sent out from Oregon to relieve them. A guide book was afterwards published by au- thority, and a copy happened to be in one of the trains ; but, we could not learn that there was any traveled route to Cali- fornia. "We learned that McGee's intention was to strike Feather River in a more direct line, and with less travel than by the usual route by Truckee River and Sutter's Fort ; but as this seemed to be a matter of doubt and perplexity, much uneasiness was manifested by the different companies. During the day most of the trains drove on, while a few came in from Black Rock, and among them Colonel Watkins. He was m possession of all the latest maps of California and Oregon, as well as Fremont's nan'ative, and by them we saw that we could follow Fremont's old trail to the south, through the Granite gorge by Pyramid Lake, and strike the old trail on Truckee River, losing but little if anything in the distance. This plan was suggested to our company, but met with no favor from the majority, who ridiculed the prudential motives of those who advised it. Everything with regard to a road being opened from Oregon to California was unknown, and the coun try had only been traversed by the small company in 1846, and their route was not known after leaving the trail that we were on. But the word was " Drive ahead ; if McGee can go it, we can ; " and the man who hesitated was set down as a cow- ard, when his objections were merely dictated by prudence. By Colonel Watldns we learned that Gard had found a little ONWARD OVER THE DESERT. 189 grass ill a raviiie two or thi'ee miles from Rabbit Spring, and that more water was found near there, and after laying over a day, he abandoned one wagon, and putting seven yoke of cattle on the other, succeeded in reacliing Black Rock just before the Colonel left. We had yet another dreary part of the desert to cross, over deep sand for twenty miles, without water ; and having it now in our power, we provided against the trials which we had al- ready encountered, by cutting a good supply of grass with our knives, and filling our kegs with water. The latter was hot, but it cooled in the chilly night air, and was very sweet and good. Our cattle being recruited, we left about sunset, and were soon plowing our way anldc-decp in the yielding sand. Quite a number of men walked ahead ; and finduig the travel- ing so difficult, we occasionally turned from the beaten track to find more fuun footing, but without effect. It being all alike, we finally returned, and doggedly stuck to the path. When we arrived where we thought our morning walk would be easy, we lay down in the sand to rest, but the cold night an* and the howling of the hungry wolves, who would have made us bosom friends if they could, prevented sleep. AUGUST 19. Before the dog-star glimmered m the east we were again on the way, and although the train had passed us more than two hours, we overtook it, and reached a place for halting two hours before it, with keen appetites for breakfast. This pai-adise was in the sage bushes by the road side. A little water and gi-ass having been found a mile off the road, we stopped fur break- fast, and to let our cattle graze, and then hurried on. Our course fi'om Black Rock had been west of north, and parallel 190 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. with the chcoin of mountains we wished to cross. Many sup- posed that we were within fifty miles of the head waters of Feather River, and some talked of shoulderuig a pack and stri- king across the mountams to it. So little did they understand the distance, or appreciate the difficulties of mountain traveling. The measure would liave been perfectly suicidal, for it was four weeks before we reached the first settlements, although we all supposed we were not more than ten days' travel fi:'om them : and had the attempt been made, situated as they were, certain death must have heen the result. After breakfast we continued on, and about noon we arrived at a kind of wet valley, contain- ing several hundred acres of excellent grass and plenty of good water, which was a matter of rejoicuig to all. We were now across the desert proper, although we subse- quently found long reaches of sand, and the highlands were as barren as the plain. Instead of avoidmg the desert, as we had fondly anticipated when we left the Humboldt ; mstead of get- ting rid of a forty-five-mile sand-plain, we had actually crossed the desert where it was a hundred miles broad, and in com- parison, we should have looked upon the other route as a play spell. Nearly all the trains which had preceded us were en camped on the beautifiil oasis, recruiting their worn-out animals, and cm-sing the hour m which they were tempted to leave the old ti-ail. The first agreeable news we heard on getting in, was, that the Indians were very bold and troublesome, having suc- ceeded the night before in killing a horse and mule m the camp, and driving off" several heiid of cattle. The horse lay near the road, and the gentlemen Digger Epicm-es had cut off" his head, and taken a large steak from a hind quarter — generously leaving the remamder of the poor, raw-boned carcass for the maws of the white devils who had brought it so far to grace ROBBERY BY THE INDIANS. 191 an Indian board. I well know that the air of the salt plain over which we had just passed, is rather peculiar in producing good appetites, and I should hardly have had much choice be- tween a turtle soup and a horse-head stew ; but never mind : the bacon was not all gone yet, though it was fast disappearing. Distance from Hot Springs, twenty miles. AUGUST 20. We kept a strict guard during the night, and all the compor nies were on the alert; yet, notwithstandmg all our caution, the Lidians came down from the Mils and drove off one cow and horse, and badly wounded two more horses, all belonging to a Mr. Watson, from Lidependence, who was emigrating with his family. One of the horses was shot m the side, and died during the day ; m the other, the stone-pomted aiTow had com- pletely perforated the back bone, and protruded six inches be youd — with such amazmg force do they shoot these arrows. A volunteer party, as usual, was formed, to pursue the robbers. They followed their track several miles along a latteral valley, when they timied up a gorge, which the party followed two or three miles, and found themselves enclosed by high rocks and precipitous hills. Suddenly they were brought to a stand by a loud noise above them, and looking up, they saw the ma- rauding party on a high rock a thousand feet above, making signs of derision and defiance at them. It was deemed useless to follow them farther, for by the time they could reach the height, the hidians might be a mile from them, by taking patha known only to themselves. The party, therefore, returned without obtaining satisfaction. We concluded to lay up for the day, and moved only about a mile lower down, where the grass was better, and where the majority of the wagons stood. 192 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. Through the day there was a constant arrival of wagons, and by night there were several hundred men together ; yet we learned by a mule train that at least one hundred and fifty wagons had turned back to the first spring west of the Hum- boldt, on leanving the dangers of crossing the desert, taking wisely the old road again. This change of route, however, did not continue long, and the rear trains, comprising a large por- tion of the emigration, took our route, and suffered even worse than we did. It was resolved that several trains should always travel witliin supporting distance of each other, so that in case of an attack from the Indians, a sufiicient body of men should be togedier to protect themselves. We united with the Missouri trams, led by Watson and Bacham. Reports again reached us corroborating the great loss of cattle on the desert beyond the Sink. The road was filled with dead animals, and the offensive . effluvia had produced much sickness ; but shortly afterward, our own portion of the desert presented the same catastrophe, and the road was lined with the dead bodies of wornout and starved animals, and their debilitated masters, in many cases, were left to struggle on foot, combattmg hunger, thirst and fatigue, m a desperate exertion to get through. Distance, one mile. AUGUST 21. There were about twenty-five wagons which left their en- campments this morning, resolved to move on within support- ing distance of each other. The road turned due west, over a sand liill and sage plain, and after traveling four miles, we came to the entrance of one of the most remarkable curiosities among the mountains. It was a caiion, or narrow, rocky pass through the mountains, just wide enough for a smooth, level road, with mtervals of space occasionally, to afford grass and water. On GREAT NATURAL CURIOSITIKS. 103 each side were walls of perpendicular rock, foiu- or five hundi-ed feet liigh, or mountains so steep that the ascent was either im- possible, or extremely difficult. From this main avenue lateral canons frequently diverged, and upon ascending a moimtam, with much labor, the traveler reached a desert mountain plain above, where his progress was likely to be suddenly impeded by finding himself on the brink of a narrow chasm, one hun- dred or more feet deep, having its own branches and ramificar tions, sometimes extending quite through the hill to a basin, or open space among the liigh hills. Without this smgular avenue, a passage across the mountains in this \dcmity would have been impossible, and it seemed as if Providence, forseemg the wants of his creatures, had in mercy opened this strange path, by which they could extricate themselves from destruction and death. Soon after crossing the oasis where we had been encamped, I went a little off the road;thi-ough a small lateral valley on the left, I observed an opening in the rocks, which looked as if it might be a cave, or chasm, and, on descending, I found it a narrow pass, leading in the general direction which the wagons were taking, and therefore followed it. It varied from ten to twenty feet in width, with perpendicular walls of trap-rock, tow- ering up to a height of sixty or eighty feet, sometimes nearly forming an arch overhead. ' My progress, in a few instances, was impeded by perpendicular falls, six or eight feet in depth, but I clambered over these, resolvuig to see the end, if time allowed. In this manner, I followed the rent a mile and a half, without seeing the end, when, fearing the train would get too far ahead, I took advantage of a small open space, and climbed out by clinging to jutting fragments of rock. I fired my pistol in this singular chasm, and the sound was louder than I 13 194 LIFE ON THE F1.A1NS. that of a musket in the open air. On coming out of the chixsm, I found myself near the road, and where there was an Indian snare for catching hares. This was sage bushes, set about fom- feet apait, propped up with stones, and extending in a hue at least a mile and a half over the hill, as 1 was told by a hunter who folloAved it. The hares, when alarmed, fled to the cover of these bushes, when the hidians shot them v.-ith their arrows. Pursuing my way a little more than half a mile, I came to a steep hill, down which the wagons were let with ropes into the canon ; and what was my surpi-ise, on descending, to find myself at the mouth of that very chasm which I had been foUowmg. It was the outlet of the great cailon to the valley of the oasis which we had just left, and had I continued a little farther, I should have gone quite through the hill into High Rock Caiion, through which our road now lay. Between the high, rough walls of rock, we sped onward perhaps four miles, when we came to an opening of probably two miles in cir- cumference, enclosed by rocky ledges, when it closed agair vpith higher rocks than l>efore. Threading our way onward, about twelve miles from our last encampment beyond the caii(jn we came to an opening of forty or fifty acres, covered with clover and wild oats taller than my head, when, with most of the other trains, we laid up for the day. A short distance before we reached our halting place, we observed a cave on the right, at the foot of the Avail. It was twenty -five feet long by ten or twelve wide, with an arching roof fifteen feet high, and the remains of fires, grass beds, and burnt bones, showed it to be the habitation of the miserable race of beings who dwell in these mountains. In the rocks around our encampment were other similar clefts, and from their number, we named it Dig- ger Town. From the meadow, there were lateral chasms GREAT NATURAL CURIOSITIES. 195 leading out, one of which some of the men followed a mile without finding the end. The evening before our an'ival, the Indians made an attempt to steal the cattle from a small train encamped at this place, and several shots were exchanged be- tween the hidians and guard. The hidians were finally driven off, having some of their number wounded, and no further damage was done. Posting a strong guard, the companies retired to rest. Distance, twelve miles. AUGUST 22. As we drove along the cafion, we found good g^asts and wa- ter at con\'enient distances, and the traveling was agreeable. Near our noon halt, we came to a lower mass of rocks on the left, where a hill, six or eight hundred feet high, had been bro- ken by a chasm, which had the appearance of having been melted; and its whole surface was glazed and run together like eai'then ware in a furnace. With much difficulty I as- cended to the top of this, w4iich was probably more than three hundred feet high, and found the same appearance to continue half a mile. It looked as if it had hardly had time to cool. Even the most skeptical could not have doubted that it had at some period been subject to the most intense fires. As our train passed on, Messrs. Fredenburgh, McNeil and myself followed the lateral canon a short distance, when, coming to a place where we could ascend the mountain, we scrambled up to take a view of the country, killing, in oui' as- cent, a large rattlesnake, which had the impudence to show its ugly face to its natural enemies. We stood upon a mountain {^ain, with no sign of vegetation but stinted sage. At the dis- tance of five or six miles were towering mountains, which limi- ted our view, while the plain w\as cut up by chasms and gulches, 196 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. which made it difficult for us to travel in a direct course. We could trace the course of the principal cailon to a large open- ing some miles beyond, with a desolate view of red mountains, still farther on. The lateral canon we traced quite through the mountain to an arm of a valley, which we reached the next day by a circuitous road ; and could we have driven through this caiion, it would have shortened the distance more than one half We followed the course of the main canon perhaps two miles from this, and in passing a knoll of burnt lime, I picked up a beautiful peti'ifaction of sage. The Imes of the wood were so perfect that I at first passed it, supposing it was a piece of dry bush ; but my eye having caught it in a certain posi- tion, when the rays of the sun were glancmg from it, I was in- duced to pause, when I discovered the truth. The plain was strewen with quantities of junk bottle glass, as pure as that made into bottles, and sometimes there were pieces nearly as transpa^ rent as common wmdow glass. From a pomt on which we stood, we saw a grassy valley before us, into which the canon led, and we perceived several tents and wagons standing in it, and concluding that our train would reach them, we left the mountain and descended to the camps. After waiting nearly two hours, as the train did not come up, we made a retrograde movement, and found them laid up beliind a point of rocks, half a mile below where the canon opened into the valley. It was my turn at duty on guard after midnight, and at the hour I took my stand. Tlie cattle were restless and uneasy, for we did not tie them to the wheels, and they were much inclined to wander away. I passed the time variously, in watching the stars, or in runiung after some old ox who ap- peared to be possessed of as many devils as the hogs wliich were driven into the sea. The moment I began to look at the GUARD DUTY AT OTGHT. 197 stars, and think about their twinkling over the dear ones I had left behind, with all the sweet remembrances which followed, scanning anon my wild life of the last four months, and the causes wliich had induced me to lead it, some one of the horned species would start off at a gallop, followed by a score of long- tailed fools in liis wake, when my sublime or moralizing cogi- tations would be scattered in an instant ; and while pursuing the runaways at my utmost speed, all sentimental reflections "would wind up with a " Whoa, haw !" &c. In one of these inter- esting flights, whether of legs or of fancy I leave the reader to judge, I suddenly found myself in a deep pit, standing midsides in water. Tliis was standing guard and moralizing wath a ven- geance. Calling to another sentry, he came and pulled me out of what was ti'uly " a predicament," and did double duty, while I started for the w;igons to get a change of clothes. I had not gone ten rods m the dark before I plunged, " body and breech es," into another pit, proving to the life that " he who travels in the dark may fall into a pit." When daylight appeared, it showed, much to my satisfaction, that I had taken the only jjos- sible direction to fall into these water holes, and had I diverged ten feet, I should have escaped them altogether. Distance, twelve miles. AUGUST 23. As the gi'ass was much better about five miles farther on, we drove to the extremity of the little valley, where we halted to graze our cattle and get our breakfasts. A fine spruig brook coursed thi-ough the basm, and flowed dowia a lateral valley to the north, and we could mark its course by the willows some mUes, till the whole seemed to be surrounded by the hills, Afler a three-hours halt, we again entered the caiion, which 198 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. was now rocky and bad, with the creek flowing through it, which we crossed many times. This last canon was about two miles long, and just as we were coming out, we were greeted with the sight of a drove of fat cattle, and a party of men and wagons going to the east. It was a strange sight to meet travelers gohig in an opposite direction, and we mutually halted to make inquiries. We found it to be a relief party from Oregon, going to meet the troops on the Humboldt with supplies ; but it was with much satis- faction that we learned that there was a good and feasible wag- on road, leading from Goose Lake, beyond the Sierra Nevada, to California, wliich was opened last season ; that the passage of the great momitain was not difficult, and that now there was grass and water all the way. Tliis ended all our doubt and perplexity on the subject, and lightened many a heavy heart. Tlie best news of all was, that we should reach the gold diggings on Feather River in traveling a little over a hun- dred miles. Alas ! how we were deceived, for " the end had not yet come ;" but the tale gave us infinite satisfaction foi the moment. On emergmg from the canon, an open sage plaia greeted our \aew, with occasional strips of grass in the depressions of the country. A drive of eight miles brouglit us to a small ra\'ine, where we found tolerable grass, and good water in the bed of a creek, nearly diy. Colonel Watldns had arrived a short time previous, and we often traveled together after this. Distance, fifteen miles. AUGUST 24. The day was smoky, and our view was limited and indis- tinct, but we could see in tlie hazy atmosphere the bold line of A SALT LAKE. 199 the Sierra Nevada, which divided us fi-oni our anxious de- sires. As Colonel Watkins and I walked on together in the morning, we were attracted by a large body of steam to seve- ral hot springs near the road on the right, which' were throwing off a vapor in the cool air ; but there was nothing remarkable about them, aside from what we had already seen. As the day advanced the weather became sultry, and we had fifteen miles to go before reaching water. We had gone on a desert plain about twelve miles, Avhen before us we saw a pond of clear water, perhaps five miles in circumference, and we all hurried to the muddy beach to quench our thirst, and eagerly dipped up our cups full. " Salt," roared one — " Brine," ech- oed anothcn' — " Pickle for pork," said a third ; and with thirsty throats, we resumed our toilsome march. Turning an angle at the salt lake, from north-west to north, we contmued on; en- tering a gorge, we began to ascend over a ridge about two miles long, when, coming to good grazing and water, we en- camped. The mountains began to assume a more elevated outline on our left ; cedars and fir were growing on their sides, and the appearance of trees once more, although at a distance, excited pleasurable sensations, afler having been so long without seeing them. Our bacon, flour, meal, sugar and vinegar, were all gone, and Ave had to take felon's fare — hard bread, and water — (ind this we felt to be much better than nothing ; in- deed, we were much better off than many others on the road. Mr. Watson had an old cow that the crows had been quarreling over for a long time ; and thinking a little fresh beef, (save the mark !) might be acceptable, he slaughtered her. There could not be more rejoicing around the carcass of a camel by the 4rabs on the desert, than we evinced around the poor, wor out, " knocked down" brute, and we looked upon it as a sort o: 200 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. God-send, and like to, have surfeited ourselves. Being o-al of meat, it seemed as if our stomachs only craved it the more, and our appetites grew sharper at every halt. Distance, eighteen miles. CHAPTER XIII. THE SIERRA NEVADA IN SIGHT DRY BED OF A LAKE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAINS NARROW ESCAPE FROM AN INDIAN'S ARROW MOUN- TAIN SCENERY CROSSING THE MOUNTAIN SALT LAKE PITT RIVER A HILL OF MAGNESIA MOUNT SHASTA A NOBLE ACT OF RELIEF MAG- AZINE ROCK HEROIC FIGHT WITH THE INDIANS ADVENTURE AMONG THE INDIANS. AUGUST 25. Our road continued through the defile for five or six miles, when we came upon a broad track, barren, as usual, over which we proceeded ten miles to the first water — a warm spring which made an oasis. On the highest peaks of the Sierra Ne- vada snow still lingered, and the air felt like autumn more than summer. As we approached the base of the great mountain, over which we were to pass, we observed the valley, or basins, began to be more contracted and irregular, being broken by ravines and gulches, and points extending from the hills, and we became aware that we should soon be in the Cahfomia moiuatains, and on the last end of our tedious journey. On arriving at the spring, and finding good grass and plenty of sage for firewood, we laid over for the day. Distance, fifteen miles. AUGUST 26. The Sierra Nevada — the snowy mountam so long wished for, and yet so long dreaded ! We were at its base, soon to I* 202 LIFE ON THE PLAINS, commence its ascent. In a day or two we were to leave the barren sands of the desert for a region of mountains and hills, where perhaps the means of sustaining life might not be found ; where our wagons might be dashed to atoms by falling from pre- cipices. A thousand vague and midefined difficulties were present to our imaginations ; yet all felt strong for the work, feelinor that it was our last. Yet the imagined difficulties were without foundation. Instead of losing our wagons, and packing our cattle ; or, as some suggested, as a last resort for the weary, moimting astride of an old ox, and thus making our debut mto the valley of the land of gold — we were unable to add a sin- gle page of remarkable adventure across the mountains more dangerous than we had already encountci-cd. A drive of four miles brought us to the baked, dry bed of a lake, which I estimated to be twenty miles in circumference, surrounded on tliree sides by the mountams. Towards the upper end of this lake the Sierra Nevada seemed to decrease much in hight, and we could see even beyond the plain over which our road lay, that it seemed to blend with other liills on our right, and a low depression appeared, as if an easy passage might be made in that direction — even easier than at the point where we crossed — where the bed of the lake was about five miles wide, and the gromid smooth and level as a floor. About a mile fi-om the base of the mountain, and on the bottom land of the lake, were many acres of fine grass, with a fine mountam brook rumiing through it, wliich sank as it reached the bed of the lake ; and a little way fi-om our place of halting there were perhaps an hundred hot springs, which induced us to call this Hot Spring Lake. It was now only eight miles to the Pass, and the grass being excellent, the company halted for noon, with the intention of ESCAPE FROM AN INDIAn's ARROW. 203 drivmg on in the afternoon to the crossmg. I availed myself of the opportunity to make an excursion to the mountahis, not only with a view of gratifying my curiosity, but hoping a chance shot might add sometliing in the way of flesh to our larders. At the foot of the mountain I was joined by two yomig men from a Missouri train, and we commenced the ascent. On the sides of the moimtain we saw a species of nectarine, growing on dwarf bushes not more than twelve or eighteen inches hio-h ; but they were sour and acid, not yet Ijeing fully ripe. In the ravines were an abimdance of wUd, black cherries, but those were not very good. Pmes grew to a great height, and we were refreshed by their cooling shade. I had preceded my companions along the border of a deep ravine, and was about fifty rods in advance, when the ravine terminated in a perpendicular wall of rock, hundreds of feet high, around which there appeared to be a craggy opening, or passage. While I was gazing on the towering rock before me, I momentarily changed my position, when the front part of my coat was grazed by sometliing passing like a flash before me. Glancmg at the base of the rock, I saw two naked hidians spring around a jutting, and I comprehended the matter at once. J had been a mark, and they had sent an arrow, wliich grazed my coat, but without striking me. I instantly raised my rifle and discharged it at the flying hidians, and sprang beliind a tree. The noise of my piece soon brought my companions to my side, and going cautiously to the rock, a few stauis of blood showed that my aim had not been decidedly bad ; but we saw nothing more of the hidians. Ci-ossing a deep ravine, we climbed to the top of a rocky outrcrop, from whence we ascended in a diagonal direction towards the road, which we reached in an hour by shding, roll- 204 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. ing and tumbling along the ravine. We were about four miles from our train in the direction of the pass ; and under the im- pression that the train would come up, I'conthuied with my companions to their camp at the foot of the pass. The day finally closed, and oiu" tram did not come, and I was indebted to the hospitality of strangers for a blanket, supper and break- fast. Distance, fourteen miles, AUGUST 27. Taking my rifle in my hand, I turned my course up the de- file of the far-famed mountain. The ascent was easy generally, but occasionally there were benches which were to be overcome ; still the passage was far from difficult — indeed not as bad as many hills which we had already climbed. Grass was grow- ing nearly to the summit ; pure, ice-cold water was flowing in little rivulets along the path, and about half-way up, near a little stream that flowed into a grassy basin a short distance on the right, was a most beautifiil cluster of dark pmes, which shut out the glancing rays of a hot sun. Beyond tliis the ascent of another bench led to another basin, or small valley, and a little further on arose I he back bone of the father of hills. For about a quarter of a mile the ascent was somewhat steep, and here was the only thmg like difficulty. Even over tliis many wagons passed without doubling teams. On each side of the road at the summit, the gi'ound rises higher, and the path passes over a depression in the ridge. Once arrived at the summit, the view of mountain scenery is grand and beautifid. Below, on the west, at the distance of a mile, is a broad, green and grassy valley, aboimding in springs. The valley is enclosed by high, pme-covered mountains, which seem to kiss the clouds ; and at the distance of ten miles, at CUOSSING THE SIEURA NEVADA. 205 the extremity of the valley, is seen the broad, bcautifu], blue water of Goose Lake, adding a charming variety to the scene. Turning to the east, and looking beyond the pines already passed, the dry basin of the lalce, with its gray bed, seems to lay at our feet, surrounded by barren hUls, which extend in a broken and irregular manner as far as the eye can see, and on each side the rocks and cliffs stand out in bold relief — the por- tals of the huge gate by which we enter the golden region of California. Having gratified my curiosity in viewing the countiy, I re- turned to the bottom of the hill, where the train arrived soon after. They had found the forage so good at Hot Spring Lake that they concluded to remain all day — a determination which they came to after I left to go to the mountains. It was two miles to the summit, and they drove about half way up and halted for noon, in the deep shades of the pine grove — a perfect luxury, after having been so long deprived of the sight of trees. After dinner came the last pull. At the steepest part our company doubled teams ; but many did not, and the summit was gained without difficulty. The time actually spent in trav- elmg fi'om the base to the summit was not over one hour and a quarter, and the dread we had so long indulged of crossing this great mountain, died away at once at seeing the few diffi- culties of the passage. The descent on the west is rather pre- cipitous, but not dangerous, and the hill is probably near a mile long. My impression is that a little further north, a still better passage might be found. A little before sunset we were en- camped on the green valley, about a mile and a half from the base of the mountain, near a fine brook, and l^eyond arrow-shot from the pmcs skirting the base of the hill to the left. Dis- tance, twelve miles. 206 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. AUGUST 28. The road lay through the valley for three miles, when it turned into the pines over a low point, to avoid an out-crop of trap-rock, and soon rose to a higher plain, which continued until we reached the hUl bordering the lake. It was the inten- tion of several companies to lay over a day at the lake, and our boys made great calculations on bathing and fishing ; but on reaching the hill their anticipations were blown to the winds, for the whole shore was white mth carbonate of soda, and the beach a perfect quagmire, so that it was impossible to reach the water, except by throwing do\vTi sticks to walk on. The water was salt and soda combined, and was very nauseous to the taste. At the bottom of the hill were springs of pure, fresh water, and there was grass enough for our catttle at a noon halt. The road now led south along a broad valley near tlie shore, with discolored and broken hUls on our left ; and a mile below where we descended to the lake, I observed the first out-crop of slate, which, in California, indicates gold. The character of the country began to change. The soil of the valley was a rich mould ; pines and fir covered the hills, and the sage gave way to other shrubs, and appeared only occasionally. About four miles below where we descended to the lake, a ledge of rocks bounded the valley near us on the left, and on going to it I found it to be a strata of serpentine, the green and gray stripes beautifully blended, and the lines as delicately drawn as if done by the pencil of the artist. Along the base of the ledge the drift wood and water-washed weeds showed that durmg the flood season the ground was overflowed. The lake extended many mUes south, which I estimated as it then was, to be twenty miles long by eight or ten broad. Night brought us to DESERTED INDIAN VILLAGE. 207 the end of the lake, yet the valley still continued, and but little above the water level, and we laid up on a mountain brook where the road forked — one branch going to Oregon, the other to California. Distance, fifteen miles. AUGUST 29. We remained in our excellent camp till noon, and then drove down the smooth valley, crossing two fine creeks which made down from the mountains, and halted for the night in a cluster of willows, on the margin of another creek. While strolling through the willows, by paths which led to the brook, our men found a basket hanging to a tree, which contained perhaps two bushels of small fish, dried in the sun — a portion of the winter stores of the savages. Li the absence of meat, we roasted some of these on the coals, and foimd them very palatable. A mile from camp, under the mountain, were half a dozen dwellings of the Lidians. These were conical in form, about ten feet in di- ameter, built of grass thrown over a light fi'amework of willows. I wandered out to them, but they were untenanted, having probably been vacated on the appearance of the fii'st trains. Distance, eight miles. AUGUST 30. During the evening, on looking to the west side of the plain, we discovered a number of fires, six or eight miles distant, and in the morning several of the men were positive that they saw wagons and cattle movmg along in that direction. It was sup- posed that the road leading fi'om Oregon to California came in near there, and that what we saw were trains from Oregon. Being anxious to get supplies, if possible, I determined to walk forward to the junction, to meet those trains, and accordingly 208 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. set out, alone. We found that, although our provisions had given out, our appetites rather increased than diminished, and it was desirable to stop the grublings of the stomach. I walked very fast for six miles, when I came to Pitt ]\iver, the principal branch of the Sacramento, which arose four or five miles ua the mountains east. Here it was only a little brook, which I jumped across, but its numerous affluents made it a considerable stream in a very few miles. I still walked on, and soon came to a liigh, rocky caiion, through which the river flowed, and the road led over a hill on the left to the valley below. As 1 descended on the other side, I saw a train of six wagons, which I hoped were fi'om Oregon ;. but on approachhig 1 found they were from Davis county, Missouri — a company with whom we had previously traveled. Listead of the road from Oregon coming in here, I became convinced that the camp fires seen by our men was the grass set on fu-e by the Indians ; the wagons, merely clusters of bushes — and the clouds of dust which had been remarked, was that taken up by whirlwinds from naked spots of soil — a circumstance very common on the dry and dusty plains. My hope of suj^plies was blasted, and not an ounce of food could be procm-ed ; we were therefore compelled to stick to our hard bread. Some of the men of the Missouri ti'ain reported that there were plenty of fish in the stream, and a proposition was made to make a seine and di'ag the river. Tliis party I joined with pleasure ; and taking an old wagon cover, we proceeded to a beaver-dam, and while a pa.rty went above to drive the fish down, we waded in the deep water with the primitive net. Li thi'ee hauls we caught fifty- five fine trout, and going with them to their camp, we had a de- licious feast, made the more acceptable by a sharpened appetite. Wlule therp, three footmen came up, begging to buy a little A HILL OF MAGNESIA. 209 flour. They had belonged to a pack train, and their horses and mules had all been stolen by the Indians at the little salt lake between High Rock caiion and the Sierra Nevada Mountain. and they were gettuig through in the only way which was left. They had pursued the hidians twenty-five miles uito the coun- try, north, where they came to a large lake of fresh water m the mountains, but here they lost all traces of the marauders, and were compelled to relinquish the pursuit. Being supphed with a small quantity of flour, they hurried on. Near the place of our halt were several singular out-crops of volcanic sandstone. There were between forty and fifty of these, standing isolated from each other, in the form of cones, being from ten to fifteen feet high, and some of them were filled with yellow mica, which glitters in the sun like gold. Our general course from Goose Lake was a little west of south, up to the close of this day, and we again found excellent quarters m the broad valley on the banks of the river. About half a mile fi'om our encampment I observed a hill, which was of a bright white color, and which was washed at its base by the river. I strolled down to it, and what was my surprise to find before me a hill over a hundred feet high, of as pure magnesia as I ever saw in a drug store. With some difficulty I climbed nearly to the top, and detached large blocks, which, rolling down into the water, floated oflT, as light and buoyant as cork until the they became saturated. It seemed as if there was enough for the whole world. A little below were other banks, partially discolored with ochre, and niore impure, but we found the banks of the river and the knowls in the vicinity, for two or three days' travel, to be high- ly impregnated with the carbonate of magnesia. Distance, fifteen mUes. 14 210 LIFK ON THE PLAINS. AUGUST 31. The road led to a table plain above the valley, over Magne- sia Hill, and then turned neai'ly west into the valley again, in about a mile. From the brow of the hill we had a charming prospect. The great valley extended many miles before us, and at the limit of vision, perhaps eighty miles distant, a high and apparently isolated snowy peak lifted its head to the clouds, like a beacon to travelers on their arduous journey, and the clear water of the Pitt was spai'klmg in the morning sun, as it wound its way, fringed with willows, through the grassy plain. The high, snow-capped butte was Mount Shasta ; and though it appeared to us to be on a plain at the extremity of the valley, it was in fact surrounded by a broken and mountainous coun- try, far from the course of the river. We crossed the river twice during the day by easy and safe fords, and found the vol- ume of water increasing every hour. We were overtaken at our noon halt by three packers^ who told us that the emigration had again turned upon this road, in consequence of the failure of grass on the old road ; that there was much suffering on the desert, and that the Indians were excessively bold and troublesome. If there was much selfish- ness shown on the road, there were occasional cases of genuine benevolence. They told us of one fixmily, in which there were several small children, whose cattle had all become exhausted, and had given out entirely. They were thus left destitute and helpless on the desert plain, without the possibility of moving. A company of young men came along, who were touched with compassion at their deplorable condition, and immediately gave up their own team to the distressed family, and traveled on foot themselves. I regret that I could not learn the names of tliese ti'ue philanthropists. INDIAN HOSTILITIES. 211 After crossing the river the second time, the plain was sandy and rolling, but we found a beautiful encampment on the bank of the river. A mile from our camp we passed a smgular rock, of perhaps a quarter of an acre in extent, lyhig near a small pond, or marshy groimd, that resembled a powder magazine. Its roof was regular, and the western end appeared like the gable end of a building. The roof seemed to project over the sides, wliile the earth was apparently banked up around it. From its smgular form we named it Magazine Rock. Dis tance, nineteen miles. SEPTEMBER 1. The character of the country continued much the same, till about three o'clock in the afternoon, when our course changed to a southerly direction, leading into a caiion having some hard passes. When within three miles of our place of encamp- ment, it again opened into a small valley. There were mdica- tions of hidians all around us, and we kept a vigilant guard, fii-mg our guns and keeping lights bm-nmg around our cattle all night long. Distance, nineteen miles. SEPTEMBER 2. The Davis County train were encamped about a mile below us, and after ^road daylight, their sentinel had started for the camp, when an Indian suddenly rose from the bushes and dis- charged an arrow at one of the oxen. The sentinel gave the alarm, and a force instantly set out after the Indian. They pressed him so hard that he was obliged to throw away his bow and quiver of arrows, two hatchets, and a pair of bullet moulds. Thus lightened, he succeeded in making his escape. Th'^ >x was slaughtered at their noon halt, and we were again 212 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. I'egalcd with desert beef. We still continued in the cafion for eight miles, though at one point passmg over a hard hill to avoid a towering clitf five hundred feet high ; and had we not seen High Eock Caiion, this would have been a curiosity of. itself. We crossed and recrossed the river at least a dozen times. Three miles from our noon halt, after passing over the point of a hill, the valley again expanded, and here we came to the junction of the Oregon and California road. From the ap- pearance of the Oregon fork, no teams had passed since spring, and all hope of further supplies was at once cut off; but we now felt sure that we were within two or three days' travel of the valley of the Sacramento. So strong was this opinion among the emigrants, that after we had encamped in a fine place on the river, a man came along on horseback, a.nd on be- uig invited to stop, he replied, that " we were within ten miles of the diggings," and (with an oath) said " he would not get off his horse till he got to them." I do not know whether he stuck to his horse all the while, but he did not reach the diggings m ten days. Distance, fifteen miles. SEPTEMBER 3. Three miles from our encampment we entered a spacious valley, at least twenty miles broad, with a rich soil, which only required im'gation to make it very productive. A little before reaching this, McNeil, Mr. Pope and myself, seeing that the road crossed the river, and supposing that it would soon recross to this side, resolved to contuiue under the mountain along the bank, rather than wade the river so many times as we had been compelled to do the previous day. On the right was a high ridge of trap-rock, and between it and the river a narrow bottom, rocky and covered with a chaparral of willow, "not yet, not yet!" 213 wild cherry and plumb bushes. After a laborious walk of a mile through the chaparral, tearing our clothes and scratching our faces, McNeal and Pope gave it up, and waded the river, while'I clambered up the crags to the top of the ridge. I found myself on a desert plain, without vegetation, and a little below the valley spread out to the right' a long distance. Walking about a mile, near the edge of the cliff, I fou)id sev- eral circular walls of stone, wliich had probably been the winter dwellings of the hidians. In descending from the ridge to the valley, I lost ray revolver, which probably dropped from my pocket while clambering over the rocks, but I did not discover the loss until it was too late to return and look for it. As I was walking through the tall grass near the river. Doctor Hall beckoned to me from the opposite side, and I waded across. He told me that they had just met a small mule ti'ain on their return from California to Oregon, and from them gained the information that we were still two hundred and fifty miles from the mines, and at least two hundred from the nearest settlement. This was a damper, Avhen we expected that we were witliin one day's travel, at most, from Lawson's. We still had hard bread enough, but there was a tremendous cry within for flesh, flesh, flesh ! Distance, fifteen miles. SEPTEMBER 4. Learning from the packers that after ten miles we should come to a hard mountainous countiy, we concluded to make only that drive, lay over the rest of the day, and commence the mountain road early in the morning. We accordingly halted at a pomt a little above where the river entered a rockj/ canon, and where we were to part with it. 214 LIFE ON TlIK PLAINS. While we lay there, some horsemen came up, who gave us an account of a fierce combat, wliich had occurred a few days before between a small party of whites and the hidians. The lat- ter had become very bold and ti'oublesome, not only On the Humboldt, but on the plains, and in the mountains this side. On the Humboldt they had made a foray, and driven oiT all the cattle belonging to a man who had a family with him, A call for volunteers was made, and a party at once formed to pursue the robbers. After tracing them some miles in the mountains they found five head, which had been slaughtered, and the meat all picked from their bones. Here the party sep- arated, and four men, two of the name of King, a Mr. Moore, and Mr. Elliot, taking a direction by themselves, while the oth- ers proceeded another way. Captain Kuig, with whom I be- came well acquainted subsequently in the mines, corroborated the statement. His party had not gone far, when, on turning around a rock, they came in contact with four hidians, who drew their bows at once. Each man selected his antagonist, and a desperate fight for life commenced. Elliot wounded his man mortally, though he commenced a flight. Moore had also wounded his, but he still continued to discharge his arrows before Moore could reload, who, to avoid the arrows, bent his head, but was severely wounded ; while King, after woimding his, advanced, and after a desperate con- flict dispatched him with his knife, after firing his pistol. The cap on Captain King's rifle exploded without discharging his gun, and his adversary discharged his arrows with great rapid- ity, without giving the Captain time to put on another cap. He however managed to dodge in time to avoid the arrows, and rushing up, caught hold of the Indian's bow with one hand, wliile the Indian seized the Captain's rifle. Thus they strug- DESPERATE CONFLICT WITH INDIANS. 2J5 gled until, becoming somewhat exhausted, they paused a moment, when Kmg kicked his gun from the grasp of the Indian, and spnmg after it. He avoided a second arrow, but as he was adjusMng the cap, another arrow grazed his hand, inflicting a slight wound. His turn now came; the rifle was discharged, and the deadly weapon did its duty — the Lidian fell dead. Elliot, being released by the death of his antagonist, rushed up to assist Moore, (who, though badly wounded, was still fighting desperately,) and shot the hidian with his pistol. Finding the odds now too great against him, the savage turned to retreat, but Elliot followed him with his knife, and inflicted a ghastly wound in his neck. Wounded as he was, the Indian now turn- ed upon Elliot, who, with a pass of his knife, inflicted a wound in the Indian's abdomen, through which his bowels protruded, when he slowly sank to the ground, strikmg wildly, and with savage determination, at Elliot, with liis owai knife, and finally f6ll backwards in the agonies of death. The Indian was a hero, worthy of death in a better cause; but this desper- ate fight proved that the whites were heroes too, and that they were men of nerve and resolution. Moore, thouo-h badly wounded, eventually recovered, and though the cattle were never recovered, the emigrants by contributions furnished the plundered family with cattle, wliich enabled them to get through. At about the same time, and in the same vicmity, the Indians took nineteen head of cattle and three horses fi-om another train ; the horses belonging to the gentleman who gave me the information. A party of fifteen men went oflf in pursuit, when on crossing to a rocky gorge, twenty-five Indians rose from be- hind the rocks and commenced an assault with their arrows, womiding some of the men, but not mortally. The company, 216 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. finding their reception so warm, commenced a retreat, and were glad to get back to the valley with the loss of their cattle. The gentleman who owned the horses had taken another path alone, and in the course of the day, without knowing anything of the circumstances which had transpired, came upon his horses in a little valley, and as he was endeavoring to catch them, the Indians suddenly rose and bent their bows. He immediately advanced towards them, entirely unarmed, and by motions told them that those were his horses, and if they would assist him m catching them, he would give them his shirt. His resolute bearing seemed to have its effect, and signs of hostil- ity ceased, when they made him understand that they wanted fish hooks. By good luck he had a gross in his pocket, which he distributed among them, after which they turned and aiught his horses, and escorted him nearly to the valley, when, taking off his shirt, he presented it to the one who appeared to be the leader. On leaving them, he had gone but a few rods, when turning his head he saw several of them fitting arrows to their bows, but on seeing that he observed them they replaced them, and allowed him to ride off unharmed. More than an hund)"ed head of cattle had been stolen on the Humboldt, and many wounded so that they had to be left. Distance, ten miles. CHAPTER XIV. LEAVING TILE YALLEY OF PITT RIVER FALSE ALARM GOOD FORAGE — • FEATHER CREEK TIMELY HOSPITALITY FROM A BROTHER ODD-FELLOW — ■ AN UNDER-GROUND RIVER GAME COOKING A BEEF STEAK PROSPECT- ING FOR GOLD VENISON EFFECTS OF STARVATION DEER CREEK STARTING ALONE FOR THE VALLEY OF THE SACRAMENTO INCIDENTS BY THE WAY THE VALLEY IN SIGHT SENSATIONS COL. DAVIs' HOUSE^ LAWSOn's settlement PRICES OF PROVISIONS EMIGRANTS. SEPTEMBER 5. We bid farewell to the fine valley of the Pitt, and took our coui'se in a west>of-south direction over a long liill, the precur- sor of a hard, rocky road. It was twelve miles to the first water, and fourteen to the fii'st grass. The day was too smoky to obtain an extended view, but what we saw showed us a rough, mountainous country all around. For the first time, we found on the hillsides some oak shrubs, and as we descend- ed at one point into a gulch, they were lai'ge enough to be called trees. We had been assured by the Oregon packers that, on reaching the mountains we should be among a tribe of honest Indians, who were neither hostile, nor would they steal our cat- tle ; yet the first thing that met our gaze on arriving at our camp ground, were the remains of five head of cattle, which they had killed the night before. Of course our vigilance was J 218 LIFE ON THK PLAINS. not relaxed, and that same night an attempt was made to drive off cattle, but happily for us, it proved unsuccessful. We fomid a good encampment for the night, in a valley in which a fme mountain stream arose. Distance, fourteen miles. SEPTEMBER 6 We made a short drive of only six miles to-day, over a rough, hilly road, and as the next water was fifteen miles, we encamped. Distance, six miles. SEPTEMBER 7. Our information with regard to the distance to the next wa- ter, proved incorrect ; for, six miles from our encampment, we found an excellent spring, about twenty rods to the right of the road. The days were very hot, M'hile the nights were so cold that ice formed in our buckets half an mch thick. The road during the day was quite good, and before night we arrived at -ii Y.'i-de opening, or valley, in the mountains, where there were lateral valleys opening into it, with high mountains on tlie sides, which gave us an extended view. One of the accompanying trauis slaughtered an ox, and the science of cooking was never displayed to better advantage than in the camps arcimid us, as well as in our own. About sunset, the general conversation turned upon Indians ; and the course which each man would pursue in c^se of an at- tack, was being discussed. Watson had a moment before come over to inquire about some arrangement respecting the night guard, when a cry was raised — " hidians, Indians ! They are coming towards us ! " Looking down the valley, we distinctly saw three coming up, and as they approached, we saw they were squaws. " Get the guns, boys — shoot the Diggers," was AN AGKEEAliLE SUKPHISE. 119 echoed, and several jumped for their rifles. " No, no. Don't shoot ! Don't shoot squaws," was rephed. " Let them come up ; perhaps they are fi-iendly." Every man was on his feet, and generally prepared for any exigency, while every eye was strained in the direction of the coming savages, endeavoring to ascertain their disposition, whether fi-iendly or not. As they approached within a little distance, we were at once attracted by a loud, gufiiitory " haw, haw, haw !" from Watson, and looking again, we saw that the hostile squaws wei-e none else than his own wife and a daughter-in-law, in company with an- other woman bfelongincr to his train. " Thunder ! " " Gracious !" and a variety of similar interjections escaped the mouths of our valiant men, as they recognized their neighbors, who had only strolled down the valley, and were now returning ; but whose sun-burnt faces, soiled and dilapidated garments, had made them look more like mountain wanderers than civilized beings. No harm being done, a hearty laugh ended the horrible catas- trophe. Drive, eighteen miles. SEPTEMBER 8. About noon we found ourselves about eight miles from our last stopping place, on a fine creek which arose in the moun- tains a short distance off, but sank in the sands of the valley after a course of five or six miles. The road was excellent, but the day was excessively warm. After our noon halt, Colonel Watkms and I walked forward, and at the distance of five miles, came to a broad valley, near a lake of water, so filled with insects and animalculas, that a cup- Mi could not be dipped up without having multitudes in it. It seemed as if every insect that lives in water was there. The only way it could be used was by digging wells near the mar- 220 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. gin, and letting the water filter through the ground, ind uen il proved to be sweet and good. We passed, during the day, some of the most magnificent pines I ever beheld, some of them being over two hundred feet high, and at least six feet in diameter, Mr. Gard and his fam- ily came up with us here, entirely destitute of provisions ; but the emigrants freely shared with him, although he had no mon- ey ; thus enabling him to get safely through. He had lost eight head of cattle, but the others had recruited, so that he got along with one wagon. We foimd a beautiful place to encamp, under a grove of tall pines, and our cattle fared sumptuously. Dis- tance, fifteen miles. SEPTEMBER 9. It was reported that it was twenty miles to the next water ; we therefore started early in the morning. We found the road good, and at the distance of fourteen miles, there was a little grass. It was understood that the tram would drive the twenty miles, wliich would bring us to the first tributary of Feather River ; and with Colonel Watkins I had walked to the fourteen mile point. As the train did not come up, however, I concluded to go on alone to the branch. The whole distance was finely wooded with magnificent pines. Occasionally volcanic rock protruded above the ground, and the soil was discolored with ochre. It was nearly sunset when I descended a steep pitch to a small valley, through which flowed the Feather Creek. While I sat near a camp, patiently awaiting the arrival of my company, with an anxious longing for a crust of hard bread, the shades of night began to darken, and no train appeared. The prospect of no supper, and a bed without blankets, were rismg before HOSPITALITY OF ODD-FELLOWS. 221 me, producing no very pleasant feelings, when a gentleman ap- proached, and stoppuig before me a moment, observed, " You are alone." " Yes, I am in advance of my train, which was to come to this place ; but I fear something has detained them." " No matter," he replied ; " I want you to go with me, and spend the night at our camp. Come," said he, as I hesitated, knowing that none were well supplied with provisions ; " you must go and share what we have. No excuse — no ceremony." I followed him, and such as they had I freely shared, and the evening was whiled away in such pleasant conversation as well- bred and well-educated gentlemen know how to introduce. Gentle reader, if there is any mystery in all this, it may be explained by saying, they were Odd-Fellows ; yet in all my journey, when circumstances have taken me from my own train, I have never, in a single instance, been denied the rites of hospitality ; and although at this time, when our route had been lengthened nearly three weeks — when every individual had scarcely supplies enough for himself, and when a single meal was an item of consideration, the courtesy of a civilized land was extended, and the weary and hungered were not denied the enjoyment of hospitality, such as Messrs. Cox and C. C. Lane, of Fleraingsburgh, Kentucky, extended to me. The train did not come up. It appeared that, as they came to the fourteen-mile halt, a beautiful lake had just been discov ered, a mile and a half east of the road, and that they had driven to it, where, finding luxuriant grass, they had concluded to lay up all day. Distance, twenty miles. 222 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. SEPTEMBER 10. That branch of Feather River where I spent the night, is a Rocky-Mountain stream of ice-cold water, about two rods wide. Ill the small valley in which we lay, another creek nearly as large gushed out at the base of the mountaui. We had ex- pected, on reaching Feather Creek, to find auriferous indications, but the formation was a kind of green-stone along the stream, and trap-rock in the mountains, with neither quartz nor slate. The train came up early, and we went on. Ten miles, over a rough road, brought us to a paradise in the mountains, which is the principal head of the main fork of Feather River. A low, broad valley lay before us, probably twenty miles or more in length, and ten miles or more in width, apparently enclosed by high, pine-covered mountains. Into this flowed the mountain creek already named, through a deep gorge in the hills. A mile above, where the road led into the valley, was a curiosity indeed. At the very base of the hill the water gushed forth, forming at once a stream of crystal clearness, and cold as ice, sLx rods wide, and eight feet deep. In flict, it was an underground river, wliich had burst into the light of day, of sufficient capa- city to float a small steamboat. From a little height we could trace its serpentine course tlu'ough the tall grass of the valley for two or three miles, until it united at nearly right angles, with Feather River, which moves with a slow, even current, through the broad bottom, a clear, beautiful and navigable river. Many miles below it entered the mountains through a high, rocky and almost impassable canon, being joined, however, by another affluent of nearly the same size, flowing fi-om the north- east, through a broad lateral valley, and then by a long series of rapids and falls, after a circuitous course of between twc and three hundred miles, it emerged fi-om the foot of hills, SOURCES OF FEATHER KIVER. ' 223 through a rough canon, into the broad valley of the Sacramen- to. From the mdications along the edges, this valley is over flowed hy the rains of winter and the melting snow of spring — thus making a broad but shallow mountain lake, of from sixty to eighty miles in circumference. Ducks, swans and wild geese covered its waters, and elk, black-tailed deer, and ante- lope were numerous on the bottoms ; while the tracks of the grizzly bear, the wolf and cougar, were frequent on the hills. We halted for the night on this beautiful bottom, after a drive of sixteen miles. SEPTEMBER 11. It was rather late before we started, this morning ; and pro- ceeding down the valley, crossing some bad hills, over spurs which put down fi'om the mountain on the right, before noon we came to the lateral valley before mentioned, wliicli is only an arm of the main one, and through which flows the principal aflluent, which rises in the hills in sight, at the upper ex- tremity. This part of the valley was about five miles wide, and besides the river there were several deep sloughs, through which we had to wade, and fi-om the hills on the western bank other creeks and branches took their rise. About one o'clock, we reached the western side of the valley, where there was an en- campment of a hundred wagons, laying over to recruit their Oiittle, for it was known that it was seventy miles to Lawson's, in the valley of the Sacramento, and also, that fifty miles of the distance was over a rough, mountaui desert, destitute of grass and water. Lawson liimself had passed the day before with an exploring party, and had left directions what course we were to take to reach the valley, as well as a table of distances 224 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. to water, which was posted on a tree oy the roadside above our camp. Distance, ten miles. SEPTEMBER 12. We were now in the valley of plenty. Our poor teeth, which had been laboring on the filelike consistency of pilot bread, had now a respite, in the agreeable task of masticating from the " flesh pots" of California. As we deterirdned to lay over during the day, our wagon master. Traverse, concluded to butcher an ox, and the hungry Arabs of our train were regaled with a feast of dead kme. Feeling an aristocratic longing for a rich beef steak, I deter- mmed to have one. There was not a particle of fat in the steak to make gravy, nor was there a slice of bacon to be had to fry it with, and the flesh was as dry and as hard as a bone. But a nice broiled steak, with a plenty of gravy, I would have — and I had it. The inventive genius of an emigrant is almost constantly called forth on the plains, and so m my case. I laid a nice cut on the coals, wliich, instead of broiling, only burnt, and carbonized like a piece of wood, and when one side was turned to cinder, I whopped it over to make charcoal of the other. To make butter gravy, I melted a stearin candle, which I poured over the delicious tit-bit, and, smacking my lips, sat down to my feast, the envy of several lookers-on. I sopped the first mouthful in the nice looking gravy, and put it between my teeth, when the gravy cooled almost instantly, and the roof of my mouth and my teeth were coated all over with a covering like hard beeswax, making mastication next to impossible. 'iHow does it go T asked one. " O, first rate," said I, struggling to get the hard, dry moi'sel down my throat ; and cutting off" another piece, wliich was fi-ee PROSPECTING FOR GOLD. 225 rroni the delicious gravy, " Come, try it," said I; "I have more than I can eat, (which was true.) You are welcome to it." The envious, hungry soul sat down, and putting a large piece between his teeth, after roUmg it about in his mouth awhile, deliberately spit it out, saying, with an oath, that " Chips and beeswax are hard fare, even for a starving man." Ah, how hard words and want of sentiment will steal over one's better nature on the plains. As for the rest of the steak, we left it to choke the wolves. We were successful in killing ducks, and our evening meal was -more palatable. At night a hunter came iu and re- ported that he had seen an out-crop of slate on a mountain bordering the valley below, and fi'om liis description we thought there were indications of gold, and a small party was organized for prospecting the foUowmg morning. SEPTEMBER 13. How long we might be out in prospecting we could not tell, but putting up a two days' supply of bread and coffee, a party of six of us started off, under the guidance of the hunter, to the mountain, while the train took the road toward Lawson's, after cutting grass to be used on the desert. Three miles traveling brought us to a lofty mountain, and about midway up its sides was a siTiall ou1>crop of light gray slate, standing about ten degrees from a vertical position, the dip in the rock being to the south-east. We made some slight excavations, and washed some of the earth, but obtained nothing, and concluded to re- turn to the road in a diagonal direction, so as to save distance in overtakmg the tram. Tlu'ee of the party, Hittle, Tuttle and Jackson, took a different direction, and crossed a ridge to the valley below, when they became liewilered, and were out all .1-^' 15 226 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. night. This little prospecting tour was the origm of a report to emigrants behind that there was good gold diggmgs near, and at one time a party of forty men started out and spent several days ua searching for the lucky mmes. Some penetra- ted to the canon of the river, and a few followed it down many miles, climbing rocks and stupendous mountains, crossing gulch- es, and forcing their way through chaparral — suftermg hun- ger, thirst and fatigue — until they were compelled to relin- quish their golden hopes, and make for the road again. On reacliing the road we walked briskly on for eight miles, over a somewhat rocky road, and coming to a fine mountam stream, called Deer Creek, we stopped in a beautiful cluster of trees. Here we made coffee in our prospecting pan, and satisfied our appetites on our hard bread. Two miles beyond we found our train encamped, and the boys out hunting. They were successful, and several black-tailed deer were brought in, and several grizzly bears were seen. Distance, twelve miles. SEPTEMBER 14. • The success in hunting the previous day mduced our com- pany to remain in camp to-day, for the j)urpose of killing more deer, but they obtained only one. A short distance fi'om the camp, whortle and goose berries were abundant, but they were riot very good ; however, they were very acceptable. Hittle, Tuttle and Jackson came in about noon, pretty well used up with fatigue and hunger, having ate nothing since they parteil with us. We heard of one poor fellow Avho got lost while limiting, and was out six days, roaming over the mountains, an I who had gone three days without eating. On approaching the road he seemed to be bewildered, and by his strange conduct, attracted the attention of a passmg train. His impulse seem- NEAR THE END OF OUR JOURNEY. 227 id to be to fly, as they approached, and then return ; but he liiially allowed some of the men to approach him, when, with a wild, hysterical laugh he told them where he had been. They took him to their wagons and fed him, and after resting quietly thi'ough the night, he became perfectly composed again, and fol- lowed after his train, which was about thirty miles in advance., having given hun up as lost. SEPTEMBER 15. Six miles below, along the valley of Deer Creek, we came to the last grass, and where the mountain deseit of fifty miles commenced. We now began to feel that our long, toilsome journey was coming to a close. We felt, too, that we could reach the settlements under any contingency which was likely to arise. Although we were worn down with fatigue, and want of nutricious food, our spirits were elevated because our mo- notonous travel was coming to an end. Our fiitm-e course be- gan to be talked of, yet we expected that our company, on reaching the valley, would dissolve, as the olaject of association would then be accomplished ; still, no one could mark out a course for liimself, to be persued with any certainty. As a matter of course, all would go into the mines, and the best mines, if such could be ascertained. To ascertain what could be done on our arrival, I determined, at the request of several members of the compny, to go ahead to the valley, to gain any information which might be useful to us. After dimier I took a check shirt, and tying the sleeves together, made a kind of knapsack, in which I put three days' supply of bread, jerked venison and coffee, and started on my solitary walk across the mountain desert. Twice, in as many miles, I waded Deer Creek, and then through a dark forest of tall pines T persued my lonely 228 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. walk, over a sideling and very rocky road. Five miles beyond I came to an open glade, where there was an encampment of troops, who had come out to aflurd aid to the emigrants, if necessary, and from them I learned that three miles beyond there was a spring. It was nearly sunset when I again entered the deep wood, but my anxiety to get in sight of the abodes of civilized man impelled me forward, choosing to risk a night alone in the woods, among the wild beasts wliich swarmed m that region, rather than not gain the distance. The road now led over long hills, over rocks, and among tall pines, and it soon began to gi'ow dark, hi the faint twilight of evening I discov- ered a fi'esh ti^ack, which I concluded was that of a negro's foot, and I felt satisfied that some train was at no great distance be- fore me. . I followed the track a inile, when it suddenly turned into the bushes, and wliile I was examining it with some curi- osity, a deep, low growl a short distance m that direction con- vinced me that I was in close proximity to a grizzly bear. Even if I had been armed, it would have been dangerous to meet such an enemy alone. Havuig only my hunting knife, I did not desire a closer acquamtance with the monster. I therefore walked on without the ceremony of leave-takuig. Wliile I was congratulating myself on m^^ escape, and had walked over half a mile, I saw the glimmer of a light tln"0ugh the trees. It v/as now pitch dark, and I was hastening on, in order to light a fu'e at the spring, to lay down by ; but on coming up I found a bright fire blazing before an encampment of several wagons, and I was familiarily hailed by a well known voice. It proved to be the Davis County train, and I was cordially welcomed, and invited to spend the night in their camp — an mvitation too agreeable, under my present ch- cumstances, to be slighted. Distance, fourteen miles. ROUGH FACE OF THE COUNTRY. 229 SEPTEMBER 16. By sunrise we had breakfasted, and gathering up my blank- ets and knapsack, I bid farewell to my kind entertainers, and walked on. I had not gone a mile from the spring, when the tracks of two large bears were seen in the road, and a few rods farther, about ten rods off the road, I saw the monsters stand- ing near the trunk of a fallen tree. But as they showed no disposition to molest me, I felt grateful for their forbearance, and left them in peace, hoping they would show the same kind ly feelings to future solitary travelers. Before leavii>g the spring I had filled my flask with water, for it was said that there was none to be found in the day's travel. A short dis- tance from the spring the road ascends to a high ridge, with gulfs on each side more than a thousand feet deep, and in some places only wide enough for the road, and seldom over fifty rods. The countiy around is a confused, broken mass of mouia- tains, to the utmost limit of vision, and is highly auriferous, with stupendous out-crops of slate and white quartz. The road continues along this ridge nearly twenty miles, though there are occasional indentions, which make hard, rocky and sideling hills for wagons to pass. Eight miles from the spring, a notice on a tree uiformed me that water had been discovered over the bank on the right, and a note to myself on the same tree from Colonel Watkins, also mformed me that he was m advance. At length I passed the apex of the ridge, and began to descend gradually on the other side, when I found the pines began to give place to ever-green oaks ; and I observed many trees that had been cut down, so that the poor, hungry cattle could browse upon the tender branches — a substitute that would scarcely susfciin life. About noon my stomach admonished me that it was dinner-time, and kindling a fire in the shade of some oaks 230 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. by the road-side, I boiled coffee in my tin cup, from water in my flaslc, and made a sumptuous meal of my hard bread and jerked venison, with a zest which even Robinson Ci'usoe might have envied. It was now six miles before water could be obtain- ed, and after resting I plodded on to that fixvored spot, where I found thirty or forty wagons on the ridge, with weary and ex- hausted cattle, to which they were trying to give water, by drivuig them a mile down a steep rocky liill, into the gulf on the south of the ridge. There was not a blade of grass, and the labor of descending and ascending was nearly equal to a day's travel, yet all the water wliioh could be obtained was from this source. Tired as I now was, I was compelled to go down and fill my flask before I could think of going on, and when I had done so I could hardly walk from fatigue. On coming up the hill I found Colonel Watldns, who was just ready to move on, and he kindly invited me to go on and share a part of his bed. We here left this ridge, and crossed by a deep ravine to another on the right, and proceeded a cou- ple of mUes, when he encamped among the rocks by the road- side. There was not a drop of water in the camp, and the Colonel made an excellent cup of tea from that which I carried in my flask. Yet such was the desire for water, that two of his men each took a pail and walked over the hills two miles to procure some. Distance, twenty-five miles. SEPTEMBER 17. ^6 used the last water in my flask to make our morning beverage, and I left the Colonel on my last day's travel to the valley. It was six miles to the only water that could be had near the road. I was stiff" and sore fi'om the exertion of the previous day, but hope impelled me on with ardent fervor, and APPROACH THE VALLEY OF THE SACRAMENTO. 231 suffering from thirst, I was desirous of gaining the point where it could be assuaged. This was half a mile distant, at the foot of a steep hill — a part of the way over perpendicular ledges of rock, from which I let myself down with difficulty. On reaching the brink of a fine mountain creek, now called Cow Creek, I kuidled a fire, and prepared a refreshing draught of coffee. Anxious as I was, I could not prevail upon myself to leave the delicious stream for two hours. After filling my flask, I again climbed the hill to the road. Ascending to the top of an inclined plain, the long-sought, the long-wished-for and welcome valley of the Sacramento, lay before me, five or six miles distant. How my heart bounded at the view ! how every nerve thrilled at the sight ! It looked like a grateful haven to the tempesMossed mariner, and with long strides, regardless of the weariness of my limbs, I plodded on, anxious to set foot upon level ground beyond the barren, mountain desert. I could dis- cern green trees, wliich marked the course of the great river, and a broad, level valley, but tlie day was too smoky for a very extended view. There was the resting place, at least for a few days, where the dangerous and weary night-watch was no longer needed ; where the habitations of civilized men existed, a security from the stealthy tread of the treacherous savage ; where our debilitated frames could be renewed, and where our wandering would cease. Perspiring and fainting from exer- tion, I reached the foot of the last hill, and stood upon the plain. Yet here I was disappointed, for instead of the high gi-ass and rich soil that I expected to find, for four or five miles after reaching the valley the earth was dry and baked by tlie sun ; the scanty vegetation was dried and crisp, and the groiuid was strewn with round stones, which seemed to have been thrown 232 LIFK ON THE PLAINS. there by volcanic force, or washed hj the floocls from the hills. But onward I pressed, till I reached the first trees which I had seen from the mountains, and found tliat they grew along tlie margin of Deer Ci'eek, which I followed a mile, when the sight of a chimney attracted my attention. It was the house of Colonel Davis, eight mUes from the foot hills. My sensa- tions were singular on approaching the house. Although it was a simple abode, standing within a rough paling, it was the first peaceful dwelling of civilized man which I had seen for months. While I hurried to it, I felt an almost irresistible repugnance to approach, and when at length I sat down in the porch, I felt lost and bewildered with a degree of astonishment at seeing men and women moving about at their usual avocations. I could only give short replies to interrogatories which were made, and after sitting nearly an hour in a kind of half stupidity, I found resolution enough to inquire where the trains were en- - camped. " About a mile below," was the reply, and I got up and walked off, leaving, probably, no very favorable impression as to my conversational powers. On reaching the encampments below, and seeing the hiuidreds of white tents and wagons, with multitudes of cattle cropping the grass, I felt once more at home : all uneasy sensations van- ished, and I wondered how 1 had been so perfectly stupid at the house. I met many traveling acquaintances, and was soon invited to share the hospitality of friends for the night. Lawson's was on the opposite side of the creek, and a little before evening I went over, and found two or three small adobe buildings, one of which was called by courtesy a store, having a little flour, whisky, and a few groceries for sale. Around the trading post were lounging gangs of naked Indians of both ARRIVAL, PROVISIONS, E'MIGRANTS. 233 se\ 254 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. sence, had started after me. Further search appearing useless, the foUowa^ig morning we went on, and in the course of the day I was enabled to purchase an ox of an emigrant, wliich, though not near as good as the one lost, answered the purpose. At night we halted near a muddy slough, where there was a little water, and set about preparing our evening meal. Wliile we were thus engaged, a fine, rollicing, young fellow drove up, and requested to mess with us till monimg, to which we assented cheerflilly. hi the course of the conversation, with some exul- tation, he told us that he had made fifteen hundred dollars in a short time, and taking out his purse, exhibited the money in gold coin. As it was heavy in his pocket, he arose, and going to my bed, which was spread under a tree near by, he turned a corner of the blanket down, and then put the purse under it, leaving it there till morning, without going near it again, appa- rently with as much unconcern as if it had been so many cliips, although we were entii'e sti-angei-s. hi the morning, after breakflxst, and when he had harnessed his mules, he went to the bed, and taking his gold, jumped into his wagon and drove off", as carelessly as if he had run no more risk than in depositing his money in the vault of a bank. Such was the security felt at the time from robberies. On reaching the Yuba, we could learn nothing of McNeil. We had thought, when parting, of takhig our load to Redding's diggings, above Lawson's ; but that would be to depend on his report from the Yuba, hi our course up to Bear River, we re- ceived from miners very favorable accounts from the Feather River mines, not only of the diggings, but for the sale of pro- visions, and we decided to go there, hoping that McNeil would overtake us, or follow us there. As Mr. Pope did not feel at liberty to take his cattle further, he concluded to leave them TRIP TO THE MINES. 255 with a Mr. Barham, (who crossed the plains with us, and who was temporai'ily stopping on the Yuba,) and then go himself in search of McNeil, up the Yuba. On finding him, he would follow us to Bidwell's bar. But we never met again ; and it gives me pleasiu-e to attest to his real worth and honesty, and kindness of heart. Proceeding the next day to Charlie's Ranch, (familiarly knowai as " Old Charlie,") the route here led off the road which we had previously traveled, and the next morning we started for the mountains, after leaving a note for McNeil, which Ave subsequently learned he never received. It was fifteen miles across the plain to the first water, within the first gorge of the mountains. A portion of the distance we found broken by dry sloughs, which were impassable in the rainy season, but were now narrow and deep sluices, somewhat troublesome to cross. We halted for the night at a hole where there was a little water, which was surrounded by weary travelers, and which strongly renunded me of the plains. As we proceeded m the morning, the hills became higher and more abrupt, yet not difiicult, and m the afternoon we reached the hill immediately above Bid- well's Bar, and descended a mile by a steep and sometimes sideling path to the lower end of the bar, knowai as Dawlytown, named after a young merchant, who fii'st opened a store on that point, about two months before. It was on the 10th of October when we reached this place of our destination, and, pitching our tent, opened a store, after sending our cattle back to a small valley where there was a little grass, trusting to luck for finding them again when we should need them. Tlie river was a rapid, mountain stream, flowing through deep eaiions and gorges more than a thousand feet high on each side 256 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. sparsely covered with oaks and pines. In this vicinity more than a thousand men were at work, with pans and cradles, who were making, variously, from five to fifty dollars per day. The bed and banks of the stream were composed of slate rqck, and the gold was found m the dirt and crevices. On the bar the gravel was removed to tlie depth of from three to sbc feet, and the dii't in the immediate proximity to the bed rock was washed, and generally yielded well. The labor was quite equal to that of digging canals and wells, and the quantity of gold looked small for the large amount of dirt required to be han- dled. It had been our origmal intention, that one of us should work at mining, while the other attended the store, but I was soon visited by my old companions, cliill and fever, and had scarcely recovered, w'hen Pomeroy was taken with fever. Thus instead of digging, it became necessary for one to take care of the other. There was much sickness among the mmers, espe- cially those wdio had recently arrived in the country, and many lay ill with scurvy, fevers and flux, without the shelter of a tent, and our first advent in the mines presented no agi'eeable aspect. We had scarcely arrived an hour before an application was made for my buffido skin and blanket, from two poor fellows who lay ill of fever under a te'ee, in a rain without covering, exposed to the cold night air, destitute of the comforts of life, which their debilitated condition so much required. I cheer- fully complied with their request, but it availed little, for m a few days they both expired. In Dawly's store, nearly adjoin- ing ours, lay a poor fellow in the last stages of consumption and flux, which he had contracted in the mines — delirious with disease, raving and tossing m his agony — who, afler a few days of suffermg, expired. He had accumulated five thou- SUCCESS IN BUSINESS. 257 sand dollars, the result of a year's hard labor and privation, which he had buried, and never disclosed its place of conceal- ment, so that it neither benefitted him or any one else. He had no family. At the end of two weeks we found our profits to be about $600, with about two himdred dollars remaining on hand, and I made preparations for going to the city to replenish our stock. Vf e spent three days iu hunting our cattle, which I fortunately found just as we had given up all hope of seeing them again ; and atler many little vexatious delays, I finally started on the 25th for Sacramento, with a very different feeling fi-om that with which I had entered it a short time before, for now I had a cap- ital of my own to commence on. AVith no adventure worth relating, I reached the city in four days and a half, and com- menced laying in my stock. 17 CHAPTER XVII. HAEDSniPS OF THE MINERS UNEXPECTED MEETING WITH COLONEL V;AT- KINS KINDNESS OF DOCTOR MORSE DOCTOR PATRICK CROSSING THE TUBA RIVER SICKNESS SEVERE RAINS THEFT, AND ITS CAUSE RE- TURNING FROM TilE MINES MELANCHOLY DEATH OF MR. CHIPMAN. I SHALL avoid narrating personal adventures as much as pos- sible ; but it will be necessary, frequently, to refer to iny own acts to form a connecting link in California life. In speaking of my own trials, it should be borne in mind that they were common to thousands who went through similar scenes ; and although they may be necessarily varied, yet almost every mi- ner, in the years '49 and '50, experienced hardships nearly akin to those of others ; and shared alike much ill fortune. At this time there were but few dwelHngs in the country, and those of the most frail and unsubstantial character ; mdeed, the great mass of men passed one of the most melement winters that had ever been knovra, in tents, or cloth houses, obliged to sleep on the wet ground, and, if necessity compelled them to move from one point to another, it was absolutely necessary for them to carry their beds, (consisting simply of thin blankets,) their cups, plates, and frequently their provisions, on their backs, for these could not be furnished by those whose kindness gave them a shelter from the rain, beneath the hospitable cover of" a tent MEETING WITH COLONEL WATKINS. 259 It was all that any one c6uld do to provide a shelter for liim- self, and a smgle meal was an item of consideration, where it could with difficulty be obtained. Having completed the pur- chase of my second stock of goods, in Sacramento City, on the last day of October, I was waiting for a friend, (Mr. Billing- hurst,) whom I had met the day before, and who was laying m supplies for his camp, which was only a few miles from my own, when I recollected some trifling article which I wished, and stepped into a store to purchase it. While I stood at the coun- ter, waitmg the action of the clerk in serving me, a poor, ema^ dated and feeble form, in which the ravages of disease were prommently marked, darkened the door ; and as he advanced with tottering steps, it was with difficulty that I recognized my warm-hearted friend, Colonel Watkins, the companion of my weary travel on the plains, the kind nurse in my illnesss, and counselor in an hour of trial and uncertainty, when the reck- lessness and utter disregard of the courtesies of life, in some of my mess on the plain, prompted me to separate from them, with the determination to travel alone, weak as I was, rather than endure longer their outi'ageous deportment. " Colonel Watkins ! Can it be possible. And sick, too ?" " Mr. D , I am rejoiced to meet you. I have been very sick, and this is the first day that I have been able to get out. I have not a single acquaintance in this throng of human beings, and it is to the kmdness of strangers that I am indebted, proba^ bly, for life. I want to go with you, to live with you, to be near you during the winter." For a moment 1 could not reply. To -see the strong man so suddenly stricken down — so weak and helpless — one, too, who had been accustomed to the elegancies of hfe, now like a wreck upon the heavmg ocean, with but a slender chance of reaiching 260 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. a haven of safety — I felt overpoweretl by my emotions, which at first he interpreted as hesitation. " Will you take me with you 1 " he repeated ; " for witli you I shall get well." " Good heavens ! Colonel," said I, as soon as I could speak ; "I will not desert you. You shall go with me if you are able to ride, and such as I have you shall fi'eely share ; but I fear you are still too weak to ride in the uncomfortable manner which will be necessary in my wagon." He felt strong, however, at the moment, and I gave up leaving town tliat day, in order to give him time to rest, and to make his arrangements for going with me. After taking care of my cattle, I met him at liis lodgings, which were at the office of that well-knowii philanthropist and gentleman. Doctor I. F, Morse. I soon learned, however, that it would be impossible for the Colonel to go with me, for Doctor Morse assm-ed me that he not only had not strength to ride, but he feared the excitement of meeting me would be too much for his debilitated condition, and that the journey should not be thought of for a moment. As I intended to return to the city immediately on my arrival at the mines, it was aiTanged that the Colonel should remain where he was till I should return, when he would probably have strength to ride, and then he was to go with me — an arrangement which was prevented by a singular combination of circumstan- ces, in which my own life was more than once endangered. And although we did not meet again for many months, we fre- quently wrote to each other, but our letters were invariably miscarried. For a long time we entirely lost sight of each other. It gives me infinite pleasure to speak of the kindness of Doc- tor Morse, though nothing from my pen can add to his reputa- BENEVOLENCE OF DOCTOR MORSE. 261 tion for well known benevolence and pliilanthi'opy. He was passing near the Colonel's tent one day, when he heard the groans of a sick person within, and drawing aside the curtain, he saw a man extended on the ground, delirious with fever, who, in broken and unconnected sentences, appeared addressing his constituents, as if at a public meeting. Seeing at a glance how the matter stood ; without linowing anything of his history, and governed solely by his natural kindness of heart, he had him conveyed to his own lodgings, and attended him through a course of fever, to a state of convalescence and health. Had it not been for his timely interposition, the Colonel might have died unattended and unknown in liis tent, without one kind hand to give him a cup of water-to cool his parched lips, as many a poor fellow did that memorable year in California. On Wednesday morning, biddmg adieu to Colonel Watkins, and feeling sure that he was in better hands than if he had been in my own care, I left Sacramento, in company with Mr. Bil- linghurst and a Mr. Erholtz, both of whom were gonig near the same pouit in the mmes with myself. After crossing the American River, three miles from Sacramento City, our way led across a plain, which at this season of the year was dry and barren, and night was approacliing before we had reached a place where we could encamp. We were tired, and with our weary cattle were suffering from hunger and tliii"st, and anx- iously lookuig forward for the concomitants of a good camp ground. The sun had nearly set, when an old man overtook us, who was di-iving a span of smart mules before a light wag- on ; and accosting liim, we inquired where we could find water and grass for the night. " About four miles distant," he cour- teously replied. " I camped there on my way down ; and it is the first place you will reach where you can stop: It will be 262 LIFE ON THE PLAiNS. quite dark before you can reach it, but I will drive on and kin- dle a large fire, which you will see from the road, and which will serve as a beacon." He went on, and we followed slowly, when, on reaching the point he designated, we found he had been as good as his word ; for a bright fire was blazing near the bank of the Sacramento, about half a mile fi'oni the road. We found him engaged in cooking his supper, and we soon joined him in this agreeable occupation. Though rough in his exterior, and somewhat Californian in his language, we soon saw that he was a well-educated man, and a gentleman, but ec- centric. After spending the evening agreeably in telling stories and discussing various topics, we spread our blankets on the ground and turned in, without inquiring where each other was from. V/hile we wei'e breakfasting the next morning, the old gentleman dropped a remark about hidiana. "Are you fi:"om hidiana ? " I interrogated. "Yes." " What part 1 " " Oh, from down on the Wabash, where they have the ague so bad that it shakes the feathei-s off all the chickens." A vague recollection flashed through my memory, and I in- quired, "Are you fi-om Terre Haute ] " " Yes." " Is your name Patrick 1 " " Yes," said he, looking up. " You are, then. Doctor Scepter Patrick ? " " Yes, that is my name," he replied, with energy. " Who are you 1 " " You were once a student of my father — Doctor Frederick Delano, of Aurora, New-York." " Is it possible ! And you — you must be A V MEETING WITH DOCTOR PATRICK. 203 Oiir knives and breakfast simultaneously dropped, as we grasped each other's hands, for in this wild place, and under such peculiar circumstances, tliis was our second meeting in thirty- eight years ; and now we could have but a moment to our- selves before we were to part. " And now, Patrick," said I " situated as you were at home, with every comfort about you, with reputation as a physician, and with political honors clustering around you. what induced you to take this wild-goose chase across the plains to Cali- fornia ? " " Why, I'll tell you. My health had become very poor, and I thought a journey across the plains would help me. I have improved vastly, but I came near dying on the way." "How so?" " Why, I was taken v/ith the cholera, and came within an ace of slipping my wind. I was taken suddenly, and most severely, and there was not a man near me who understood dealing out a dose of medicine, except one cursed fool of a pepper doctor. I was vomitmg, purging, and suffering all the tortures of the infernal regions, when I told the steam doctor to give me a large dose of calomel, camphor and opium, nor stop to count tlie grains, either. But he urged me to take a dose of number-six. ' Go to the with your number-six — give me the calomel, quick, or I am a dead man.' But tlie fool kept talking about number-six — number-six, till, finally, to satisfy him, and while I was writhing in agony, I told him to pour it out — hoping that after taking his medicine, he would be willing to give me mine. He unmediately poured out a double dose of his liquid fire, and I took it d(j\\ii. I thought I should surely die, for the remedy seemed worse ihmi the disease. I thought my whole insides were on fire, and I roared out ' Water, water ! for heaven's 264 LIFE ON THE PI-AINS. sake, or I shall be burnt up.' But there was not a drop of war ter in the camp, nor any widiin a mile. ' Well, then, give me brandy — anything : fire, tiu-pentine, hve coals ; I am dying !' All were very much alarmed, and the doctor jumped to the brandy jug, and poured out half a glassfull, which I nearly swallowed before I discovered the wretch had made a mistake in the jugs, and had given me another quadruple dose of num- ber-six — thus adding fuel to the flame ; and now I thought I was surely gone. But it stuck. It stopped my vonv- iting in a short time, and then he was willing to give me my medicine ; and that stuck too ; and operated finely. The dis- ease was checked, and I got well ; and after all, I don't know but the fellow's number-six was beneficial to me." By this time our cattle were yoked to the wagons, and we parted, to meet once more about a year afterwards in San Francisco. It was the third day (the 3d of November,) after leaving Sacramento City, when within four miles of the Yuba, we were overtaken by a heavy rain — the first which had fallen since spring, and which we afterwards found to be the commencement of the rainy season. We lay weather-bound till the 4th, when we reached the upper ford about ten o'clock in the morning, but a heavy storm setting in, we encamped for the day. The fol- lowing day being clear, we drove to the ford, and I, being bet- ter acquainted with the crossing than the others, took the lead, while my companions remained behmd to observe my success. I soon found that the rain had raised the stream higher than I had ever seen it before, and the current was so swift that my cattle could with difficulty keep up against it. It soon became apparent that they would not be able to strike the landing on the opposite bank, when I jumped in, hoping to keep them suf- FORDING THE RIVER IN HIGH WATER. 265 ficiently up to reach it. The current was so swift that I could scarcely stand. With difficulty I reached my wagon again, and as we progressed the water became deeper and more swift, till we were within three or four rods of the opposite banl<, when it was impossible for my cattle to make head against it, and yieldmg to its force, they turned down stream, towards a deep hole which would engulf us all. At this moment my leaders doubled around my wheel cattle, and finally stopped. I sprang into the whirling stream, for the purpose of gettmg my cattle again mto Ihie for the shore, when the swift water took me down in an. instant, like a feather, and I saved myself by seizing hold of one of the leaders' horns, as I was Beuig carried by, and with great exertion regained the wagon. It now became imperative to save my cattle, and getting between them, on the tongue of the wagon, 1 succeeded in about half an hour in getting the lightened chain loose, and they started back for the shore. But the current again carried me down, when I seized hold of the tan of one of the oxen, as I floated by, and he di'agged me in- gloriously to the shore. I was so cliilled that I could scarcely stand ; but a good fire was built up, and I soon recovered the use of my limbs. The next care was to get my wagon out. It contained all my goods, and the loss of it would be utter ruin ; and if the river raised a few inches higher, it would inevitably be swept off. I went to a rancho, which was near, and stating my difficulties, a fiery young man declai'ed, with an oath, that he could get it out, and if he were successful, I was to give him ten dollars. Mounting a strong horse, he proceeded to the ford, with three yoke of large oxen ; but when he came to see the swollen river, his courage evaporated, and he dared not ride in. With much persuasion, I obtained permission to ride his horse, and succeeded in reaching the opposite bank, where I L 260 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. found a company of men from Missouri, who kindly offered to render me assistance. With a small line in my hand, to which was attached a strong rope, I now rode to the wagon, and getting on to a wheel, I sent my horse ashore, and then contrived to fasten the rope to the end of the tongue, when twenty stout men pulled the wagon to the steep bank, a few I'ods below the landing. With a hatchet I cut away the thick willows, and the roots and branches of overhanging trees ; then, with a pick and shovel, I dug down the bank, which occupied me busily all the afternoon. It was quite dark before I could prepare my sup- per, when another storm set in just as I began to eat, and I was driven to my wagon for shelter, which still stood in the water. My bed clothes were upon the opposite bank, and of course inaccessible to me, and I had no other way but to lay in my wagon all night, with no covering but my soaked garments — the pattering rain over head, and the roaring flood beneath. But my dreams were not troublesome ; for, as might bo ex- pected, my sleep was light. Morning dawned slowly, when the other teams succeeded in getting across, and'hitching five yoke of cattle to the tongue, my wagon was pulled up the steep bank, on dry gi'ound. Soon after starting, it began to rain again, and foi' the follow- ing five days there was not a moment's cessation. The plain which was dry and hard when I passed it a few days before, was now deep mud ; and although we only drove twelve miles, our cattle vv^ere so much exhausted, it was necessary to double teams the last half mile, and draw the wagons in singly to our camp ground. Then it was with infinite difficulty that we could get a fire started, to cook our suppers and warm our stiffened limbs. We were encamped near Burch's Ranch, and when morning came, it rained so heavily that it was impossible to THE BLOODV FLUX. 267 travel ; and to add to our peculiar pleasures, I was seized sud- denly and violently with bloody flux, in its worst form, owing to extreme exposure the two previous days, and from fatigue, and sleeping in wet clothes. It was thought impossible for me to survive, and for two days I suffered immense pain, when, after taking two doses of calomel and oil, an operation was produced, which checked the disease, but left me weak and help- less as an infant. We lay at this point six days, with no shel- ter but our wagons ; and the considerate kmdness of my com- panions have left an indelible impression of gratitude in my heart ; for it is mamly to their care and watchfulness that 1 am indebted for life. The rain ceased for a day, after it had continued its pelting for a week, and as I was able to ride, we went on. But we had much difficulty in crossing sloughs, which, though dry m sum- mer, now were roaring torrents, and occasionally we were de> tained many hours, till the flood had partially subsided, so that we could cross. It was not until the loth that we reached the first foot hill of the mountain range, where Ophir, m' Butte county, now stands. Beyond this, farther egress was impossible. Notvvith standing we Avere upon high land, the soil was so soft, that, whether in the road, or out of it. cattle sank to their bellies, and wagons to their beds. Even oxen and horses, when stri- ving to pick up a little grass, which grew scantily in spots on the mountain, frequently were mired down, so that it was im- possible to get them out, and they perished miserably in the mud. Finding ourselves thus completely mud-ljound, within ten miles of our camp, we hastily erected a bush shant}', and while my companions proceeded on foot to their camp, I re- mained to watch the wagons. As supplies were wanted at our 268 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. several camps, members of respective companies came down, and backed them up through the rain and mud ; and it was not until after tliree weeks had passed, that the rains subsided, and the roads became sufficiently firm for us to get our wagons into camp. Duruig this long storm, hundreds of wagons were caught out on the plain, with loads destined for the mines, but beuig mired do^v^l, were left till spring before they could be rescued ; consequently there was a short supply of provisions, and thousands of men were forced to abandon the mines, and seek refuge and emplojTnent in the cities, where, in some instan- ces, from necessity, in others, from depraved morals, many were induced to resort to stealing for a subsistence ; and the charac- ter which California had hitherto borne for universal honesty, was suddenly changed, and it became necessary to guard prop- erty with as sedulous care as in any of the older cities at home. The winter of '49, and '50 may be set down as the era of the commencement of crime, which ultimately led the more honest portion of community to rise, and in effect to produce a politi- cal revolution, for the protection of life and property, when it was found that the law could not do it. Daily men passed my camp on Mud Hill, who, fearing star- vation in the mountains, were endeavoring to gain the towns, where a dubious pi'ospect was before them. Soine were sick, and scarcely able to drag themselves along, and having as yet done but httle in the mines, had no money, and wei'e depend- ent on charity for a meal. Many, though well, had no money, and the sympathies of those who had anything to eat was almost hourly excited, for who that had it m his power to relieve could see men starve before his face 1 Along the road there were no tents for public accommodation. When night came, the sick, the weary and hungered Avere obliged to lay on the wet ground. MEETING WITH MR, CHIPMAN. 269 in the chilling rain ; and when morning appeared, they still had fifteen or twenty miles to go, wading through the mire, or swimming deep sloughs, with an exertion for life which was enough to discourage a strong man. We had been under the necessity of drivmg our cattle back twelve miles upon the plam, where they could get grass, and once, when the rain had ceased for a day, and there appeared an indication of fair weather, we hunted them up at tlie expense of a day's diligent search, in order to try to reach our camp. But we had not been an hour in^camp with them, before it began to rain again, which con- tinued for ten days without cessation, and we were obliged to drive them back to the valley, and remain in our quarters. One day, while I was chatting with Mr. Billinghurst, who had come down from liis camp, a stranger came up to borrow our chains, to drag an ox from the mire, a little above us. On his return, Billinghurst addressed me by name, making some in- quiry, when the stranger seemed struck with the name. " Is your name D 1 " he inquired. "Yes." " Are you fi-om Ottawa, IlHnois ? " "Yes." " There is a sick man at Long's Bar, who is very anxious to see you." "hideed. Who is he 1" "Mr. Chipman." " Mr. Chipman froin Ottawa 1 Is it possible ! I was not aware that he had come to California." " He started after you did. He was taken with scurvy on the plains, and is now helpless, at Long's Bar. He has made many inquiries after you, without success ; and desu-es to see you very much. 270 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. " It is now too late to go there to-night ; but tell Mr. Chip- man I will see him early in the morning ;" and I immediately addressed a note to him to the same effect, and gave it to the young man, who was in his employ. Early the foUowhig morning, taking such things as I had, which I knew to be good for his disease, I started off for Long's Bar, which was three miles distant, to see my old friend. On reaching his tent I scarcely recognized him, worn down by dis- ease as he was. One leg was drawn up so that he could not use it, and he was barely able to hobble about on crutches, and his whole appearance was changed, by emaciation and suffer- ings. Few can appreciate the joy of our meeting ; and although we had always been on familiar terms, the peculiar circumstan ces under which we now met made it doubly interesting to both Nursed in the lap of luxury, unused to anything like the toil and labor to which he had been sulyect in crossing the dreary wilderness of the plains — surrounded by everything at home to make life pleasant, with an intelligent and accomplished wife, who would have sacrificed her own life to promote his comfort — here, during the most inclement season of the year, he had only the dubious shelter of a tent to protect him from the storm ; and suffering fi*om insidious disease, his bed was on the damp, wet ground, in a place where money could not procure the comforts necessary for a sick man. Surrounded by stran- gers, who could scarcely afford to extend a sympathising hand for relief, his future seemed anytliing but encouraging, and dark forebodings could only be the result of witnessing his present condition. I need scarcely add that I visited him almost daily, and urged him to go to the city, where he could procure med- ical attendance, and the comforts he absolutely required. He finally consented. A boat was going to Sacramento, in which DEATH AND BURIAL OF MR. CHIPMAN. 271 he secured a j)assage, and the morning he was to start I went up to bid him adieu. He had been taken to a more comforta- ble tent, where a bed was made, off the ground, by the kind- ness of Mr. Butts, from Michigan. On going into the tent, I inquired of Mr. Butts, " Is Mr. Qiipman still here ?" "He is." " How is he this morning ?" " Mr. Chipman is dead." " Dead !" I was shocked but not disappointed ; for a short time before he had been taken with the bloody flux, and run down immediately. lie had expired that morning, about an hour previous to my arrival. Amid the throng of busy men who were at work around, it was with some difficulty that four were obtained to carry him to his grave. He is now at rest, in peace and quiet, on one of the foot hills of the Sierra Nevada. The day after the performance of the last sad rites to my poor friend, I broke up my camp at Mud Hill. CHAPTER XVIII. TROUBLE ■WITH THE INDIANS ON THE SOUTH FORK FATE OF ME. HENDERSON ON THE NORTH FORK OF THE PLATTE HIS WIFE AND CHILDREN PROS- PECTING FOR GOLD THE RESULT DISAPPOINTED HOPES AND FAILURES GETTING RID OF THE INDL\NS MR. TURNER MELANCHOLY INCIDENTS. At length the rain ceased long enough to allow the roads to settle sufficiently to move, when I btoke up my temporary camp, and returned to my old quarters at Dawlytown. Before reaching it, however, I was taken with a neuralgic fever, and on my arrival I immediately went to bed, v.here I was confined three weeks, enduring much pain. Being unable to attend to the care of my provisions, the most of them were spoiled by damp, and the wet weather. I had been absent six weeks, owing to rain and sickness, and I found a great change in the appearance of the place on my return. Some few cabins had been built, but the greater part of the town had been deserted, the miners having gone up to the South Fork of the Feather, where better diggings were re- ported. A difficulty soon occurred between them and the In- dians, which ended in bloodshed, and was the commencement of a wai'fai'e, which of course eventually terminated in favor of the whites. An hidian stole an axe from the tent of a miner, who, on missing it, went to a village a mile or two distant, and with threatening language demanded its restoration, when an DIFFICULTIES WITH THE INDIANS. 273 Indian v,ho had not been guilty of the theft went into the wig- wam and brought it out. The miner, instead of receiving it quietly, began to beat the Indian. This so enraged liim, that when the miner turned to go, he seized his bow and shot his assailant dead. A few days afterwards two men were hunting mules .in the neighborhood, and becoming separated, one of them was shot dead with an arrow, whUe the other being as- saulted, effected his escape. In addition to these outrages, the Indians had taken mules and cattle, and it became unsafe to risk life or property in im- mediate proximity with them. Under these circumstances it was deemed best to give them a severe lesson, and a party pro- ceeded, well armed, to tlieir village, and in a skirmish killed five or six Lidians, and destroyed their houses, while the re- mainder of the savages made their escape higher in the mountains. A day or two after my return to head quarters, Mr. Billing- hurst arrived, sick with scurvy, which had not broken out on him till now. Although our tent was not as capacious as a temple, we made room for him, and while I was confined to my bed on one side, suflering the pain of the condemned, he lay within six feet of me on the opposite side, enjoying the same pleasure in a still worse degree ; and although the music of our groans ascended in unison, the notes were rather discordant with harmony, and it is with pleasure that I record the fact, that illness, and its consequent pevishness, did not for a mo- ment interrupt our mutual good will and friendship for each other. His comrades moved from their old station near Long's Bar, to Stringtowii, a new mining settlement on the South Fork, five miles above us, where they built a comfortable log cabin. But it was spring before Mr. Billinghurst was able to L* 18 274 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. join them, and it seemed almost a miracle that he escaped with life. I found on my arrival at Dawlytown, an old friend of the plains, a companion of my desert wanderings, William McNeil, fi'om Illinois. After having lost sight of us on the Yuba, and failing to receive my letters, he had gone to Reading's diggings, at the upper part of the valley, under the impression that we were there ; but after a month's ill success in digging, he acciden- tally learned I was on Feather Eiver, and came down, and with much difficulty found my camp, where, during my ab- sence, he installed himself with Pomeroy. hi my journal across the plains I have spoken of a Mr. Hen- derson, who was emigrating with his fimiily to California, and who, after establishing a ferry on the North Fork of the Platte, sent his family on, intending to ovei-take them in a few days. I found his wife a resident of Dawlyto-\ra, and a near neighbor, and her amiable disposition and correct deportment gained her the respect of a large circle of friends. From her own lips I received the following sad tale. The time set for the appearance of her husband had already passed, when one day the two men who were engaged with him at the ferry rode up to the train, and without going to see Mrs. Henderson, informed some of the company that he was detained behind in settling some matters, and would overtake them the next day, and hastily rode on. But the next day passed, and the next — still he did not come. Her anxiety and alarm began to increase, and as time winged its flight day after day, and still her husband did not appear, the uncertainty of his fete, and the helplessness of her condition, produced a state of feeling and wretchedness bordering on frenzy. By degree-; the opinion was formed that he was murdered, and she left FATE OF MRS. HENDERSON. 275 among strangers, upon a barren wilderness, with her two help- less children, with a long, doubtful and dangerous journey be- fore her, and all the uncertainty of an unsettled and barbarous country on her arrival in California, if she should be so fortu- nate as to reach it herself. Li her trying situation she foimd sympathy and friends in those around her, and every possible attention wa-s showai her by the way-wom emigrants. She reached the settlements in safety, and with acquaintances went to Dawlytown, where, opening a little hotel, she not only sup- ported herself, but made considerable money. She afterwards went to Stringtown, and subsequently was housekeeper for Doctor Willoughby, near Yateston, on Feather River, where she died, leaving her children to Doctor W.'s care. Daily accounts of rich diggings on the South Fork were re- ceived ; and as my mercantile transactions were brought to a close, by long illness and the impossibility of keeping up sup plies, owing to the flood, feeling the necessity of doing something, on my recovery, I projected a prospecting tour in the moun- tains, and a party was organized for that purpose, composed of the Hon. James B. Townsend, late of St. Louis, McNeil, Pom- eroy and myself. Fifteen or twenty miles above Dawlytown the South Fork passed through a difficult caiion, and at this time it had not been penetrated. Our design was to go above it, if practicable, provided we could raise a sufficient force ; for, as the Lidians had become very hostile, it was no longer safe to venture far from the settlements, except in parties of considera- ble strength. Having made preparations, by baking bread to last a numlier of days, and putting our arms is good condition, we sallied forth the third of January, each man carrying his provisions, blankets, prospecting tools, firearms and ammuni tion. With the weight of our loads, and the high, steep hills 276 LIFK ON THE PLAINS. we were obliged to climb, we made oaly five miles the first day, aud niglit fuimd us tired enough, in the hospitable cabin of our friend Brown, at Stringtown. hi the morning he jomed our party, with the understanding that he and his company were to share m any discoveries which we might make. Our mtention was to locate on some unoccupied bar, if it could be found, and go into general mining operations; for it was looked upon by evei'ybody that if a bar on the South Fork could be obtained, a dam built, and the water turned from the bed of the stream, that a rich reward for the labor would be certain ; and it was thought, too, that in the region where the hills were highest and most precipitous, the richer the streams would prove ; and the result of our present undertaking will show how niLich truth there was in the hypothesis. Our path lay along the liill-side bordering the river, aud the trail was over deep ravines, rocky and precipitous, and we were occa- sionally obliged to cling to projecting rocks to rnaintam a foot- hold, wliile at times we forced our way through bushes, sci'atching our hands and tearing our clothes ; and then we were in dan- ger of sliding down the steep bank among the rocks of the river. And what added much to the peculiar pleasure of our mountain ramble, about noon it began to rain. Two days of infinite toil brought us to the cabin of Arnold, Scott & Co., the last and highest of the settlements, where we were hospitably entertained for the night. Making our prospecting determina- tion ImowTi, four of their company, viz : two Arnolds, Scott, and a jovial, fearless, good-natured fellow, nicknamed Bunkam, joined us, making a force of nine well armed men, which wc deemed sufficient to I'epel any attack the Indians might make. We decided to reach the high land above the river, as we were within two miles of the caiion, then follow the ridge till we GUOWTII OF VILLAGES. supposed we were above it, and stiike douTi to the river again, for during high water a passage through the caiion was iniprac- ticable. We were now ui a rough, broken, mountainous coun- try, with steep liiils a mile or more high, bordering the river. After eating our breakfast of pork and bread, we commenced the ascent. The weight of our loads made it extremely labo- rious, and we could climb only a few rods without stopping to rest. It required two hours of excessive toil to reach the top of the ridge, when we found ourselves upon the height of land which divided the waters of the Yuba from those of the Feath- er. This we found comparatively level, and practicable for a good wagon-road, wliich has since been built, and extends far up into the mountains, and over which a daily mail is now carried to thriving raining settlements. Lideed, a few months wrought great and important changes in this part of the country. Vil- lages and settlements speedily arose, roads were opened, hotels erected, and coinforts abounded where we nearly starved. We were only half way up the mountain, when ram commenced falling, which scarcely ceased an hour duruig the remainder of our journey ; and although 1 had recently arose from a bed of sickness, and for days was constantly wet to the skin, contmu- ally sleeping in the rain, upon the wet ground, I not only gamed strength, but did not even take cold — a strong evidence of the salubriousness of tliis climate. We found the small streams roaring torrents, often difficult to cross ; but where they could be waded thoy offered but a small impediment to our progress ; and with Bunkam's good nature and originality, and the pecu- liarity of our situation, we felt much hilarity, notwithstanding the weight of our packs and the mclemency of the weather. Tow- ards night-fall, judguig we were above the canon, we began to de- scend towards the river, after passing a high mountain, covered 278 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. with snow, and the descent was almost as laborious as the ascent, for frequently we would lose" our footing, and slide down many feet, until, by coming in contact with a Ijush, we gained our equilibrium. Between sliding and tumbling, we at length reached the rocky banks of a stream almost hid m the deep gorge of the hills, and which we found to be a branch of the South Fork, into which it tumbled over rocks and falls, about half a mile below where we reached it. Being a little in advance of the others, I discovered a shelf in a cleft, where an overhanging rock projected sufficiently to protect the most of us from the rain, and we resolved to pass the night here, and the boys facetiously named it " Delano's Hotel," in honor of the discoverer. Building a large fire at the mouth of our den, we dried our wet garments, and roasting our pork on the ends of sticks, we lay down on the bare rock. Although the night was cold, we were tired enough to consider it a bed of down. I never slept better. Daylight presented two important facts for our consideration. The water was too high for making a particular examination for gold along the bank, and our provisions were nearly exhausted ; therefore, unwilling as we were to give up the search, we were compelled to turn our faces homeward, for our previous expe- rience had proved that stomachs were stubborn things, and that there was a limit to their endurance. We dreaded the ascent of the hill more than we had its descent, but as there was no help for it, after digguig for gold in a few spots without success, we began the task. Night overtook us on the ridge, and amidst the outpourings from the clouds, we spread our blankets on the wet ground, and with a guard stationed on the lookout for Indians, we snatched a little sleep during the livelong night. On resuming LOCATING A CLAIM. 279 our jnarch, we saw many fresh tracks of Indians in the mud, who appeared to have been prowling around during the night, but probably finding us on the guard, had not ventured an at- tack. Had they done so, they would have had every advantage, for owing to the wet weather, there was scarcely a piece in the company that could be discharged. At noon we parted fi-om our friends, the Arnolds, and keeping the ridge, we followed it in a storm of snow and rain till a heavy fog set in, when, fear ing we might get lost among the mountain gorges, we descended to the river, and four hours of hard walliing brought us to the cabin of our friend Brown, where a hearty supper and a quiet night's rest restored our equaniiiiity, and revived our wearied frames. On the third day, when gomg up, we had located a claim on a bar fifteen miles above Dawlytown, and on our return we commenced preparations for takmg possesssion of it. By the law among the miners, it was necessary to commence work on a claim within ten days afler it was located, and a party was detaQed from Billinghurst's and our own party, to erect a cabin on our claim. It was also arranged that the two compa- nies should join in all their mining operations, and unite the Stringtowu claim with the other, to which we gave the name of Ottawa. The working party proceeded to the spot and commenced falhng trees and cutting them to the requisite length, and although the weather was wet and cold, they ^vorked incessantly day after day, till at length the cabin was raised and enclosed with a roof. The last day they worked without food, as they were determined to get the roof on before they lefl it, and the provisions wliich they had backed up being exhausted. It was then arranged that McNeil and myself should go up, and after finishing it off, go to work digging the race, until other members of the company could get ready to join us. We ac- 280 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. cordingly went up, found a track where a path for a mule could be made along the steep hill-side, over which we could get pro- visions on to the bar, and thei;^ commenced work. By degrees a fire-place and chimney were built, doors made, bedsteads erected, and witlun a week we were in possession of the most comfortable quarters which we had enjoyed since crossing the Missouri River, and we had learned by this time liow to ap- preciate even this rude shelter. McNeil was a capital fellow — honest, industrious and energetic — although I knew all this before, our isolation together in that ch-eary mountain gorge only cemented still stronger the bonds of friendship which ex- isted between us. For thi-ee weeks we lived alone, and per- formed prodigies in moving rocks and throwing out dirt, in which 1 must give him credit for superior skill and ingenuity — what appeared an impossibiUty in my unsophisticated judgment, he found means of accomplishing with ease. I may as well bring the subject of our labor to a close ; for dwelling upon it is not very gratifying to my recollections. We labored on till the spring raised the water so high that a suspension of work was indispensable, both here and on the Stringtown bar, and as our funds and supplies were both get- ting low, it became necessary for a part of our company to dis- perse, in order to raise the means of living. When the river was low enough, in June and July following, we re-assembled, and began the work of building the dams. I then had charge of the work at Stringtown, while Billinghurst took that of the Ottawa bar. After finally finishing my woi'k, at an expense of sixteen thousand dollars, and getting into the bed of the stream, we did not get the first farthing for our labor and our pains. The unprecedented high waters of 1850 rendered it impossible to drain the water on the Ottawa bar, and we were FAILURES AMO^"01• THE MINERS. 281 obliged to abandon it, or starve ; but we had the satisfaction of learning that in 1851, when the water was veiy low, a company of Cliinese took possession of it, and took out from fifty to a hundred dollars a day for many days. So that the harvest, which was almost within our reach, was reaped by others, and they foreigners and aliens. I have purposely omitted many details of our operations during that eventful year ; but enough, perhaps, has been men tioned, to give an idea of what the mmers of the fii-st emigra- tion encountered in the fall of '49, and the summer of '50. For forty miles along the South Fork of Feather River, the stream was dammed whenever it was practicable, some of the dams costing, in labor and necessary expenditures, fifly to eighty thousand dollars, and not one paid a moiety of its cost. Be- low Sti-ingtO'\\Ti dam about a mile, an energetic and enterpri- sing company erected a splendid dam, and dug a race at an expense of thirty-two thousand dollars, expending fom* thou- sand doUai's which they had dug the previous fall, and all that they got when completed was fifteen cents ! They were com- pletely wrecked, and their company broke up hopelessly in debt, a portion of which was for the provisions on which they had subsisted during the winter. And this wide-spread ruin did not fall upon the poor miner alone. Merchants who had given them credit for provisions, in the expectation of being repaid when they should get fairly at work, were sufferers, not from any design, but from the utter inability, of their poor debtors to pay, and some of them, having purchased a portion of theu' stocks on credit in the city, were also unable to meet their payments. Thus the failure of the miners was felt far and wide. Wherever we turned, we met with disappointed and disheartened men, and tlie trails and 282 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. mountains were alive with those whose hopes had been blasted, whose fortunes had been wi'ecked, and who n<;)W, with empty pockets and weary limbs, were searching for new diggings, or for employment — hoping to get enough to live on, if nothing more. Some succeeded, but hundreds, after months and years of toil, still found themselves pining for their homes, in misery and want, and with a dimmed eye and broken hopes, sighing in vain for one more fond embrace of the loved ones who were anxiously looking, but in vain, for the return of the father and fi'iend. While McNeil and myself were living alone, we were one day \asited by several naked, mountain Indians. We treated them kindly, giving them tobacco, fish-hooks and bread, and they left us, manifesting the utmost good nature. Subsequently, they came with others, and we began to think they might be tempted, by our isolated condition, to commit some depreda^ tions on our property, even if no acts of hostility were exhib- ited towards our persons, and we deemed it liest to get rid of them as quietly as possible, upon any future occasion when they presented themselves. One cold, stormy day, while sitting by our cabin fii'e, unable to work, the door was gently opened, and two naked savages, dripping with wet, stood before us. We invited them to the fire, and after giving them something to eat and a little tobacco, I gave them to understand that I was a conjurer, who came fi'Oin the rishig sun ; and that I could control the elements. Occasionally, a terrific gust of wind drove the smoke in clouds down our chimney, and for the purpose of practicing on their credulity, I would jump up and wave the smoke up, which, as the gust passed, seemed to obey my behest. On the approach of another gust, I would invite it down, and l)y contmumg my FRIGHTENING THE INDIANS. 283 manipulations long enough, the -wind appeared to obey me. When it lulled, I would stop, and the smoke came or went accordingly, till it was plam to see that their wonder was excited. Still, they did not move. Then I began to examine their heads phrenologically, making some mystei'ious observations to Mac, who as gravely responded, when, under apparent excite- ment, they inquired in Spanish, if I was bueno. We answered that it was good, yet they still stuck by the fire. At length, after a few passes of animal magnetism, during which Mac had all he could do to maintain his gravity at my ridiculous ma^ noeuvres, I took a smooth board, and with a piece of crayon, began to sketch their likenesses, occasionally continuing my smoke-driving up and down the chimney, as the blast invited. As the figures began to assume shape and form something like themselves, they evidently became uneasy and frequently looked at the door, inquiring if it was good. We still assured them it was not bad. Suddenly, a mighty gust came, driving the smoke down with unprecedented violence, when I sprang up to the fire-place, wliile Mac jumped to the door, and opened it to look out, and our tawny Mends, seeing an outlet, bolted out- right, preferring to " bide the pelting of the pitiless storm," rather than stay longer ui the den of a monster who called the storm from the clouds, and took their spirits from themselves and made them fist to a board. We never received another visit from an Indian while we remained. When Billinghurst, Brown and Periam were crossing the plains, they found at Fort Laramie an elderly man named Tur- ner, who had bargained with a man to bring him through ; but at this point the man sold his wagon and team, and lefc poor Turner to sliift for himself Without a fi-iend to aid him, with no money or provisions, and unable to go backwards or for 284 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. wards, he was like a shipwrecked mariner upon a desolate coast. Happily, Messrs. Billiiighurst, Brown and Periam, from Chicago, came along, and pitying his condition, they took him on bojird their wagon, with all liis worldly wealth — his ^'iolin, to which he clung with an affection tliat only an amateur linows — al- though their O'wn supplies were not abundant. On the road across the plains, Timier was taken with scurvy, and instead of being of any service to them on y the icy stream, they soon became benumbed and incapable of exertion, and were whu'led away to death in the rajnd current. CMAPTEK XIX. TOLEN CATTLE EAPID GROWTH OF CITIES AND VILLAGES SPECULATION UNCERTAINTY OF TITLES SACRAMENTO CITY ITS GAMBLING HOUSES REFINEMENT GREAT FLOOD CRAYON SKETCHES A SPECULATION IN TOWN LOTS THE INDLANS. . When the high water m the spring of 1850 arrested the progress of our works, and our two companies temporarily sep- arated, I learned tliat cattle stealing had become common in the valley. Durhig the rainy season, the miners who owned teams were obliged to drive their cattle to the valley, where there was gi-ass ; for none grew on the mountains. They were left there from necessity, without care, till sprmg. I frequently met many who had lost all their cattle — unprincipled men havuig seized and driven off whole teams, and either sold them, or used them to liaul loads to the mines after the roads became passa- ble. One day a teamster drove a wagon into our settlement at Dawlytown, when Mr. Billinghurst recognized one of liis own oxen in the team. As he had an abundance of proof at hand, the fellow was glad to compromise the matter by paying him a hundred dollars and taking the ox. Scarcely had the tliief gone twenty yards before another yoke was claimed by a miner ; and before he left the digguigs his cattle were all claimed and taken by their owners. The fellow had made an unfortu- 286 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. nate mistake, and had driven his load into the very settlement where his cattle belonged. This wholesale stealing excited much surprise among us, for the almost unheard-of honesty of Cali- fornians, as it had been the previous fall, was a subject of gen- eral remark. But a change seemed coming " o'er the spirit of their dream," for soon we began to receive accounts of robbe- ries beyond anything we had ever heard. In this state of things I deemed it advisable to look after my own cattle ; and taking my blankets and provisions on my back, I set out for the valley, Twenty-live miles brought me to the meadow land, and I was fortunate enough to find three out of four ; but the fourth was lost. Being unable to continue mining and have a care over my cattle at the same time, I drove them to Marysville and sold them. And here I met with a surprise. When I forded the Yuba, in September previous, there stood then but two low adobe houses, known as Nye's Ranch, but early in the follow- ing winter a towii had been laid out, which, in this short space of time, had grown to over a thousand inhabitants, with a large number of hotels, stores, groceries, bakeries, and (what soon became a marked feature in California) gambling-houses. Steam- boats were daily arriving and departing, which seemed strange, for it had been a matter of doubt the previous fall as to Feather River being navigable for craft larger than whale boats. On this river, a mile from Marysville, Yuba City had sprung into existence, with a population of five hundred inhabitants ; and two miles below, the tovm of Eliza had been laid out, and buildings were rapidly going up. The two latter places, how- ever, were eventually swallowed up by the rapid growth of Marysville, which has become a beautiful city, while the others, at the mcinent of writing this, have dwindled mto nothing, and are nearly deserted. Speculation in towns and lots was rife ; TITLE TO LAND. 287 iind on every hand was heard " Lots for sale" — " New towns laid out " — which looked as well on paper as if they were already peopled. Tliere seemed to be a speculative mania spreading over the land, and scores of new towns were heard of which were never kno^vn, only through the puffs of news- papers, the stakes which marked the size of lots, and the nicely drawn plat of the surveyor. Not a single town was laid out on land where the title was indisputable ; and as might be ex- pected, litigations were fi-equent. Squatting followed, which resulted, in many cases, m riot and bloodshed. And to tills moment, when the State contains probably over three hundi-ed thousand souls, three years from the first emigration, claims are contested, and there" is a vagueness and uncertainty m the pos- session of lands in the great valley, and in San Francisco, wliich renders the purchase of landed property uncertain, and the risk so gi-eat that prudent men hesitate to invest large sums. Before the conquest, many of the old Cahfornians had either taken possession of lands without authority, or held grants imder revolutionary governors, which were not acknowl- edged by the supreme government of Mexico ; and in soma cases, where these grants were given by an acknowledged Mexi- can Governor, the proprietor had neglected to have them con- firmed by the parent government ; and in others, if this was done, they had neglected to comply with the requisitions of the grant — so that, M'here there were so many loop-holes, some shots of contention would enter. Still some of the claims were undoubtedly good, and will be acknowledged by the government of the United States, while squatters, in many cases, will very likely be able to hold the land they have taken up, after it has been decided that such lands belong to our government by the Commission instituted to examine the merits of claims, and we 288 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. may look forward to the time when litigation and uncertainty on the subject, shall cease, and consequent happiness and thrifty progress of the people of California ensue. Before returnmg to the mines, I visited Sacramento, and the improvements not only m the city, but in the country around, which a few months had produced, astonished me. Along the road hotels and dwelhngs had been erected at convenient dis- tances ; and where we had traveled the previous fall without seeing a human habitation, was now the abode of civilized man. At Nichols' Ranch, near the mouth of Bear River, where then but a single adobe house stood, a town had been laid out, and buildings were going rapidly up, (but this, however, eventually declined,) and under the bank, in the river, a large brig was moored, which had doubled Ca;pe Horn. 'Vernon and Fremont, at the mouth of Feather River, appeared flourisliing, but sub- sequently shared the uncertain fate of new towns in a new country. All these may revive, as the country advances in population, and its agricultural resources are properly developed. Saci'amento City had become a city indeed. Substantial wooden buildings had taken the place of the cloth tents and frail tenements of the previous November, and, although it had been recently submerged by an unprecedented flood, which oc- casioned a gi"eat destruction of pi'operty, and which ruined' hundreds of its citizens, it exhibited a scene of busy life and enterprise, paeuliarly characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon race by whom it was peopled. An immense business was doiug with miners in furnishing supplies ; the river was lined with ships, the streets were thronged with drays, teams, and busy pedes- trians ; the stores were large, and well filled with merchandise ; and even Aladdin could not have been more surprised at the power of his wonderful lamp, th.in 1 was at the imghty change GAMBLING IN SACRAMENTO CITV. 289 which less thaii twelve months had wi-ought, since the first cloth tent had now grown into a large and flourishmg city. I regret to say, that gambluig formed a prominent part in the business of the city ; and there appeared an mfatuation, if not unprecedented, ceitamly not excelled in the annals of man- kind. Long haUs had been erected, which were splendidly hghted, and beautifully decorated with rich pictures, having magnificent bars, where liquors and various refreshments were exhibited, to tempt a depraved appetite ; and along the centre and sides of the room tables were arranged, where piles of money were seductively laid out to tempt the cupidity of the unexperienced. And to crown all, on raised forms, or finely- ^v^ought galleries, bands of music " discoursed harmonious sounds," to attract a crowd. These places of resort were daily and nightly thronged with men of all ages and conditions in life, eager to tempt the fickle goddess of Fortune, too often to their own rum. Large sums were freely staked, and often changed hands, and the hard earnings of the infatuated miner, which he had been months in accumulating by incessant toU and weary- ing hardships, fi-equently passed fi'om his well-filled purse, to swell the gambler's bank that was spread seductively, before him. A day or two previous to my arrival, I was told that a young man, havmg started for home, came to the city fi'om the mines, with nineteen thousand dollars. On his arrival he deposited six- teen thousand with a friend, and with the rest went into one of these splendid hells, and commenced betting at monte. He soon lost this, and under the excitement wliich it occasioned, he drew the sixteen thousand from his fiiend, notwithstanding all remon- strance, and determined to retrieve his luck. He retiu-ned to the table, and continued playing tiE he had lost every farthing, M 19 290 LIFE ON TILE PLAINS. •when, instead of making his friends happy, by returning to their embrace with a competence, he was compelled to return to toil and privation in the mines. Another, with tifleen hundred dollars, began playing, with the avowed uitention of breaking the bank ; but the result was, as might have been anticipated, the gambler won every dollar m a short time. With the ut- most coolness the poor fool observed to the banker, " You have won all my money — give me an ounce to get back to the mines with." Without saying a word, the gambler handed him back sixteen dollai*s, and the victim returned to his toil again. ^ Even boys of twelve and sixteen years of age were some- times seen betting. But little else could be expected, from the extent of the demoralizing influences thus set before them. In passing down to Sacramento through some of the mining settlements, I could not but observe the march of refinement which was going on, or, more properl}- speaking, the comforts, which were introduced. Crockery and table-cloths appeared on the tables of the hotels along the road ; glass tumblers, and even wine glasses, were used ; berths, similar to those on steam- boats, were made around the rooms, and occasionally spare blankets could be found, so that on the principal thoroughfares it was no longer necessary to sleep on the groimd, nor carry one's own plate, knife, and tin cup; and as early as July, 1850, a line of stages commenced running from Sacramento to Ma- rysville, which the following year became a very important and well-regulated route, from which, in 1851, lines diverged to various points in the mines. During the winter of 1849 and '50, one of the greatest floods occurred which had ever been known in the valley of the Sac- ramento. From the top of a high hill on the left bank of THE FLOOD AT SACKAMENTO CITY. 291 Feather River, not far from the Table Mountam, where I could command an extensive view of the valley, I estimated that one- third of the land was overflowed. Hundreds of cattle, horses and mules were drowned, being 12 LIKK ON THE PLAINS. to high water, could not then be gotten out. Fearing that the miners would charge him with theft, he ran away. On discov- ering their loss, the men swore vengeance against the hidian, and having armed themselves, they were proceeding towards the rancheria, when, being met by Yates, it was with m.uch difficulty that they were peif^uadcd by him to desist, assuring them that if the hidian had stolen it, he could recover it. He sent for the chief, and a true statement of the case was elicited. "When the water had subsided, the captain took the hidian to the spot, and makmg liim dive into the hole, the axe was brought up. Thus, by a little forbearance and common sense, a cruel wrong was avoided. They are impulsive because they have not been taught reflection. At the first settlement of Grass Valley, in Nevada county, a general war was at one time apprehended, from a difficulty which resulted in the murder, by the hidians, of an imiocent and good man. Two brothers, named Ifolt, had erected a saw- mill, four or five miles fi-om where the town now stands. Their uniform kindness and justice had secured the hidians' fi'iendship, and they all lived on amicable terms. Not far off lived a heed- less and dissolute miner, who one day took a squaw into his cabin, where he kept her two or thi'ee days, to giatify his lust- ful passion. This incensed the Indians so much that they deter- muied to take revenge, and not being able to fmd the perpetra- tor of the outrage, with characteristic sense of right, they deter- nimed to take vengeance on any of the white man's tribe they could find. The elder Holt was one morning busily at work hi his mill, while his brother was out a short distance, when a number of hidians advanced with their usual friendly demeanor. They suddenly commenced an assault on poor Holt, who fell under then- murderous weapons. He could bai-ely cry out to MK. GHAT AND THE INDIANS. 313 Ilis brother before he fell, to save himself. His brother, seeing the attack, fled, receiving two arrows, but succeeded in making his escape to the cabin of Judge Walsh, at Grass Valley, and gave the alarm. Walsh had one man with him, and at night was joined by three miners, who had been out prospecting. This httle baud prepared themselves in the best manner they could, resolving to sell their lives as dearly as possible. They watched all night, momentarily expecting an attack ; but In- dian vengeance was appeased, and they did not appear. Tlie miners in the neighborhood were aroused, and stood upon the defensive ; but a talk was held, and the aftau' happily compro- mised. Thus the indiscretion of one man had nearly caused the death of many. Reversing the picture : Had the outrage been perpetrated by an Indian on a white woman, her kindred would quite as likely have taken revenge on the whole tribe, by killing or driving them off. Soon after I got my plat surveyed, a gentleman named Gray became my neighbor, and built a house adjoining mine. He was of a pleasant, jovial disposition, but at times, when de- pressed, could not maintain his equanimity of temper ; and though he frolicked and laughed occasionally with the hidians, and they, on the whole, liked him, yet when he was vexed, he did not hesitate to repulse them with some rudeness. Of course, although some Indians liked him, others did not. One day I had gone to Marysville, leaving my store in liis care. He had impru- dently given some of the Indians liquor, and when they became excited, they wanted more, wliich he refiised, and drove them off. I did not return till the second day, after nightfall. On my way up, I met Captain Yates, who told me there was trouble in my village, and that the Indians were much incensed at Gray, and he feared it would not end well. It was nine o'clock N 314 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. in the eA'ening when I rode up to my store, and had scarcely got off my horse, when a large number turned out as usual to welcome me ; and while one took the bridle, another took off the saddle, and a third led my horse to grass, and a fourth brought me fresh water. But Gray was not to be seen, and on mquiry, the Lidians could not tell me where he was. Stri- king a light, I stepped into his store, and as I went in, I saw an Indian dodging out of the back door in a rather equivocal manner. Soon I heard the gurgling sound of running liquor, and on looking about, I discovered that the plug was pulled out of his brandy cask, and a pail was standing under, which was nearly half full. Comprehending the matter at once, I poured the liquor back, put in the tap, and broke it off — tell- ing the chief that he had a bad Indian, and that he must be ac- countable if anything was lost, after which I quietly went to bed and slept soundly till morning. About nine o'clock Gray came in, and after expressing sur- prise that I should have the hardihood to sleep there, told me about his difficulties : When the Indians found that he would give them no moi'e liquor, thi-ee of them laid a plot to murder him that night. Soon after dark, while he was unconscious of his danger, a squaw rushed into his tent from the back way, and, much excited, told him to go into the woods to sleep, for the Indians intended to kill him ; saying which, she hurried out in a round-about way, and gained the village unperceived. Her husband was to be one of the murderers. Gray went up to Captain Yates', and spent the night ; and the Indians, not finding Iiim, meant to make sure of the liquor be- fore I came ; but fortunately I arrived in time to prevent it. Why they did not steal mine, or my goods, at the time, I do not know, for they had every opjDOrtunity. INDIANS FRIGHTENED. 315 In illustrating their confidence in individuals who are fortu- nate enough to secure it, I will record one of the many inci- dents which occurred to me. A party of ladies and gentlemen from Marysville came up on a steamboat one day on a pleasure excursion, and while the most of them were at Captain Yates', near whose house they had landed, I was walking with one or two gentlemen over my plat, discoursing (eloquently, of course) on the beauty of my situation, and hoping, by the way, to sell them a share, when my attention was drawn to my village, by seeing the women, with their children and such valuables as they could carry, flying in consternation towards a place of concealment near the river. Satisfied that something unusual had occurred, I called out to inquire what was the matter, but the only reply I could get was, " Steambota, malo steambota ;" and they con- tinued their flight. Presently, a little boy who lived with me came running by, wild with affi'ight, and catching him by the arm, I inquired what it all meant. In the utmost excitement he cried out, " O malo steambota, malo stcamboata, it will carry us all off; our homes will be lost ; our mothers stolen ; our children killed." " No — no," said I ; " there is a mistake. It is not so ;" and directing one of the gentlemen, who could speak their language better than I could, to call them back, he spoke to an hidian, who called after the fugitives, and they again stopped. I soon learned the cause of their alarm. Two drunken fellows had gone into Captain Yates' village, and in a frolic told the Indians that the steamboat would carry off all the women. The word was soon passed, and an Indian came running down to our village with the horrid news. I went towards the trembling fugitives and told them that the story was false, and that the steamboat was soon going away, and 316 LIFB ON THE PLAINS. would sleep about a mile below, on the opposite bank, and that 1 would protect them. At length, confidence was re- stored, and they returned to the village. It was near night- fall when the gentlemen went again to the boat, and I returned to the village, m order to allay any latent fears of my Indian friends. A great crowd gathered around me with noisy pleas- ure, the cloildren came up to take me by the hand, and mothers passed their infants from hand to hand for me to fondle, and in a little time peace and quietness was restored. As the boat started from her moorings, I went to the bank to see her pass, attended by all the little boys, who had hold of my hands, arms and coat, as many as could gather around, while others held to those nearest to me. Just before the boat reached us, the fireman stirred up the fire, making a brilliant display of sparks in the dusky shades of night, when, in sudden fi-ight, the children threw themselves into my arms, or grasped my legs, crying, " Upeah steambota," (the steamboat comes,) and I had hardly time to say " it would not come," before it shot swiftly past, and their excited fears were put to rest. But their affectionate confidence thrilled my heart, and I am not ashamed to confess, beti-ayed me uito unusual emotion. Polygamy is practised among them. But it sometimes hap- pens that there are more males than females in a village, when they content themselves with one wife, hidiscriminate cohabi- tation is never practiced. I was one day talking with the civil chief, and he asked me how many wives I had. I told him but one. He only inquired if women were scarce in my village. " No, they are as numerous as the leaves on the trees." " Wah ! " he exclaimed with surprise, and holding up his fin- gers and pointing to his koombaUum, he signified that he had four. AWKWARDNESS OF INDIANS. 317 " Well, you old Solomon, (I said this in English,) what do you do with so many 1 " " I make them gather acorns, make bread, pick up wood, and work for me." " And I work for myself," said I. " Humph ! " said he, contemptuously. " Good for nothing. Does your wife dress like you ] " I could have added that she did not exactly wear the breeches, but I told him that she wore a long shirt, shoes and stockings, and a kind of hat. He thought I must have " much clothes, or I was a very great fool to spend so much on one woman." They can be learned to plow, to herd cattle, and perform mamM labor very well. But I was once somewhat amused at the aAvkwardness of an Indian in a (to him) new branch of business. A sack of sugar had been landed for me about half a mile below, on the opposite bank of the river, and taking two Lidians, I went after it. I found it too heavy for them to carry, so I bor- rowed a wheelbarrow and set them to wheelmg it to the land- ing. As I expected, they made awkward work of it, but by dint of perseverance, one of them made out to keep the one wheeled wagon in the track, and we managed to get it to the lauding. Thinking the other kdian would find no difficulty in wheeling back the empty barrow, I directed him to return it. He stood a moment, looking irresolutely at it, when, callmg for the aid of his companion, he hoisted it on his head, and deliber- ately marched off with it. At the close of my residence with them, when making ar- rangements to return to the mines, I had saved fi-om my stock, which had been sold out, a summer's supply of provisions, and it being necessary for me to visit Marysville, I packed all se- 318 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. curely up, and going into the village, told the chief and some of the old men that I was going to Yuba, that I shoidd be gone some days, and that I wanted them to take care of my house and goods until I came back, to which they gave their usual assent. It so happened that I was obliged to go to Sacramento City, and I was unwell a day or two, so that I did not return until the thirteenth day. I came back on the opposite side of the river, and calling to the Lidians, they came over on their log canoes and conveyed Bie across. On ascending the bank, the men of the village came out as usual to see me, but I ob- served tliis time that they kept a little back, instead of coming around me as they generally did. hi a moment an old man advanced, and slowly, and with much dignity, addressed me with, " Wah-ne-mah, when you left us you said you would be gone so many sleeps," and holding out a string, he showed me seven knots tied in it. " You have been gone so many," and slipping his hand along he showed me thirteen. " How is tMs?^' " I explained to him that I was seven days at Yuba, two days I was sick, two days I had to go to Sacramento, and it took me two days to come home. " It is good," said he, " it is all right." When this important matter was explained, the others came up and greeted me cordially, and I stood upon my usual footing. " Come," said I, let us go to my house," and I led the way, when on reacliing it I saw that they had piled the door full of limbs and brush, which, accorduig to their custom, signifies that the owner is absent, and no one enters. Pulluig these away, we entered, when I discovered that all my provisions were gone ; not a single article was left. At first I was a little startled, but INDIAN HONESTY. 319 I exhibited no surprise. In a short time I observed, " Come, let us go to the village, I want to see the women and children." I was followed by the ci'owd, and going into the town, I found the oliief, sitting on a beef's hide, and he invited me to sit be- side him. After a due pause, and explaining the cause of my long absence, I observed, " Well, you have taken good care of my house, did you take care of my goods 1 " " Yes." "Are they all safe?" "Yes — all safe." " Good," I replied, " where are they 1 " " There," said he, pointing to his house. " Very w"ell — I have come home now, you may take them back." He sprang up, and going on the top of his house, he called several hidians together, and gave them directions, when they went to work, and in thirty minutes every box, every sack of flour, was taken out, and piled up precisely as they had found them in my house, and even a hatchet and a dozen nails were returned to me, unasked. The fiiithful Indian had removed them to his own house for safe keeping against straggling whites and vicious Indians. " Honor to whom honor is due." 1 could relate many anecdotes of what txanspired during my brief sojourn with the untutored savages, which would present them in a favorable light, but it is probable the reader is already tired, and I foi'bear. I do not mean to appear as their apolo- gist, but I do think that their character is not well understood by the mass of people, and that their good will might be gained by conciliation, kindness and justice, if they can be kept fi"ee fi'om malign influences, and that the principles of civilization may be instilled mto their minds. But this will never be. Once 320 LIFE ON THE PLAINS, in contact with the whites, they leani their vices without under standing their virtues ; and it will not be long before intemper- ance, disease and feuds will end in their extermination, or complete debasement, and these once powerful tribes, like those upon the Atlantic shores, will have passed away, or be but a wreck of miserable humanity. They are already dwindling, for the fire-water and rifle of the white man are doing their work of death, and five years will not pass ere they will be- come humbled and powerless — a wretched remnant of a large population. I have been told that the valley of the Sacramento, fifteen years ago, contained from fifteen to twenty thousand, but a fatal disease breaking out, in one year destroyed many thou- sands — in fact, reduced them more than one half; and this I think quite likely ; for during a trip which I made last fall to the upper Sacramento, I passed a multitude of old deserted villages, which I was assured was caused by desolating disease. But the two races cannot exist in contact, and one must invari- ably yield to the other; and it was justly remarked by Gov- ernor Burnett, in his annual message of January, 1851 : " That a war of extermination will continue to be waged between the two races, until the hidian race becomes extinct, must be ex- pected. While we cannot anticipate this result but with painfiil regret, the inevitable destiny of the race is beyond the power or wisdom of man to avert." CHAPTER XXII. PETEE THE HUNTER AT THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO HIS ADVENTURES HIS DAUGHTERS JIM BECKWITH HIS DARING ACT AMONG THE BLACK- FEET, AND ESCAPE SOUTHERN INDIANS INFLUENCE OF THE CATHOUO MISSIONS CHANGE OF QUARTERS MINERS IN SEARCH OF THE GOLDEN LAKE THE RESULT. We sometimes find in California, hanging around the out- skirts of civilization, animals of the biped species, which differ both from the natives of the soil, and those of a higher grade in human form — those who are far removed from the savage state, yet want the refinements and accomplishments of civil- ized society. While living at Yateston, I became acquaint- ed with one of the genus homo who was something of an original, with all the peculiarities of the class to which he belonged. Peter the Hunter was a half-breed, of the Sioux nation, his fiither being a French trapper, his mother a squaw ; and when I became acquainted with him, he was about fifty-eight years of age. His tall, gaunt, attenuated frame, his restless black eye, his thin, sunken cheeks, attested a life of hardship and exposure, while his roving disposition proclaimed him of that class of men who are frequently found hanging around, and often beyond the farthest verge of civilization. He followed the chase for a liv- ing, and with great success — for Peter was a capital shot. And although he could accumulate such property as is deemed N* 21 322 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. valuable with his class — horses, mules, furs and skins — he had not tact enough to come in competition with the more wily trader, and was generally cheated out of his property as fast as lie gained it, and always remained poor. Without education, and notwithstanding his isolated and roving life in the wilds be- tween the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Ocean, he still had a good idea of the proprieties of civilized life, and took much pains to instill his crude notions into the minds of his children. In short, he was a curious compound of civilization and barbarism — a man of considerable observation, and much good sense. He spoke English and French fluently, as well as the language of many of the tribes in the wilds of America. In his youthful days, being in Montreal, he was impressed into the British service. Thus forced fi-om his home on the Platte, he served seven years as a soldier in the British ranks, and was at the battle of Waterloo when Bonaparte was over- thrown. His relation of that event was vivid and correct; and his eye would sparkle with animation as he recounted various evolutions during the battle, and the fire of youth seemed to flow again in his veins. After the restoration of the Boiu'bons, and when peace was declared, Peter, with many others, was sent to the mouth of the Columljia, in Oregon, and discharged. There he married a Catholic squaw, by whom he had four children — three gu'ls and a boy — when his wife died. Although he always led a rovuig life, and seldom remained long in one place, his children were brought up in the Catholic faith ; and with the use of the lasso, the rifle, and the hunting knife, in which they were per- fectly expert, his girls were taught morning and evening to bow in reverence to Almighty God. Two of his girls were young STORY OF PETEll THE HUNTER. bltS women grown ; the third, and youngest, was about eight y eai's old. The boy was dead. His girls were as fearless riders as I ever saw, and could throw the lasso with unerruig aim when riding at full speed, and it will be seen that in the use of the rifle they could not be excelled. Peter was ardently attached to his wife, and often spoke of her in the warmest terms of aftecfion ; but when his boy died, who was his pride and hope, it almost broke liis heart. " My wife w\as a good Clu-istian," said Peter, " and took good cai'e of the children. She loved me, and was faithful, and 1 loved her ; but she was growing old, and I knew of course she must die sometime. But my boy was young, and active be- yond his years. My girls are smart, and are good shots, but they can't begin to do with a rifle what he could. He never missed his aim. I was proud of him — too proud. I thought he would live ; that he would be a man, but " Peter's lip quivered, his eyes iiiied with tears, and he could not go on. Some little kindnesses wliich i had it in my power to bestow, won his confidence, and he frequently unburthened to me his overcharged heart. Now, he only lived for his fam- ily. To protect them seemed to be liis only care — his only ambition. When he came to the valley he had twenty-seven horses, but he had been robbed of all but tlii-ee, and all at tempts to recover them proved unavailhig. " Did the hidians steal them from you, Peter "? " said I. " No, " he replied, with some energy ; '• it was the cm'sed whites. Indians will steal sometimes, but not from me, where they laiow me ; and I don't fear them. 1 can take care of my self among them, for 1 know their ways, but these white men are robbers, and they have so much bad law that they can cheat the scalp off" your head, and you can't help yourself 324 LIFE ON THK PLAINS. Here is all the law I want " — and he slapped his rifle — " and if I could meet some of the thieves on the plain, I'd give 'em an argument they couldn't answer. 1 can trust an hidian fur- ther than I can a white man. One day Peter came to me with some perturbation, and told me that a gang of thieving Frenchmen, who hved a few miles above us, had threatened to carry off his daughters — in fact, had attempted to insult one of them in his presence, but he had beat them oflf! " I do not care for myself, " said he. " If I am killed, it mat- ters nothing, but who will protect my children ? " " Pitch your tent by mine, Peter," said I " and if they make an attack, let 'the girls run into my house, and I think that you. Gray and I, with the aid of our Indians, can give them such a reception that they will be glad to sheer off. They must walk over our b(^dies before they succeed, and on a pinch the girls can fire a shot. He grasped my hand without saying a word, and in a little time his camp was removed in close prox- imity with my own. Our evenings were often whiled away around his camp fire, in listening to him, recounting many of his strange adventures. He had been wandering tlii-ough the mountains of California and Oregon for twenty-five years, among the fierce and hostile tribes that inhabited them, and liis descriptions of the scenery and country have been proved cor- rect by subsequent explorations. He described the Klamath Rogue River, and Trmity tidians as more bold anS warlike, and highly advanced in the scale of improvement, than those of the south — a character that travelers subsequently gave them. He said that their houses, though rough, were built of wood, above ground, and that they took more care to provide against want in winter, by laying in supplies of fish and meat, PETER AND HIS HEROIC DAUGHTERS. 325 than the valley Indians, and that they wear a covering of skins — facts which have since become known. He had penetrated to the sea at the mouth of the Klamath, and described the ex- treme broken mountain country on Trinity and Scott's Rivers, with vivid correctness. My table was jjountifully supplied with bear meat, venison and antelope, while we remained to- gether. With the peculiar customs of the wild tribes near us, and the strange hunter, who was my companion, I have always looked upon this part of my sojourn in California as the most interesting. Peter had been most desperately wounded, a short time be- fore I became acquainted with him, and his head was still bound up, the woiuid not being fully healed. He was still weak. The incident is one of thrilling adventure. About twelve miles nearly west of us, a solitary butte rises from the plam, from fifteen hundred to two thousand feet high, and whose broken, craggy and pointed ridges seem to kiss the clouds. It stands nearly in the centre of the plain, equi-distant from the coast range and Sierra Nevada, and can be seen at a great distance on' either side, frowning in gloomy majesty, a beacon and guide to the weary and bewildered traveler, ' It was one morning in the spring of 1850, that Peter sad- deled, his horses, and as usual, accompanied by his daughters, all ai'med to the teeth, set out on a hunting excursion towards the buttes. Nothing material occurred till tliey arrived at the solitary mountain, and had ascended some distance, when com- ing to a nearly perpendicular point, they dismounted, and Pe- ter climbed alone through the bushes toward a shelvmg rock, for the purpose of taking an observation for game. With much difficulty he gained the foot of the shelf, and setting his rifle against the rock, he climbed over the ledge, when, to his 326 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. horror he found himself facing a huge grizzly bear. The mon ster sprang upon him at once, and he instinctively drew his knife, as the bear rushed upon him and seized liis arm. Quick as thought, he plunged his knife in the animals side, who now, enraged, seized him in his grasp, tearing his scalp from liis head, and biting him in a fearftil manner, when in the struggle they both fell off the rock, and together rolled down the hill. Peter, in the meantime, making the best use of his knife pos- sible, inflicting several severe wounds upon his adversary. His girls witnessed the fearful stiniggle, and the eldest stood paraly- zed with astonishment, but the second one, with the impulse of one mspired, sprang towards her father, and as the combatants became momentarily separated in their fall, she raised her trus- ty rifle, and with unerring aim, discharged it at the bear. The bullet took effect in the monster's head, and he fell, stunned if not dead, histantly she ran and seized her sister's rifle, and re- turning placed it against the bear's ear, and what little of life remained soon passed away. He was dead, while she, the he- roine, tlie noble girl, was the savior of her father's life. Bleed- ing and wounded, they carried their poor father to the camp, and many weeks elapsed before he recovered. " She is a brave girl," said Peter to me ; " and I don't fear the Frenchman on her account, for she can defend herself; but her sister is more timersome ; and then, the little one ." Sufiice it to say, the Frenchman never made the attempt. " I have had many offers," said Peter, " from white men, to take my girls and give them and me a home, but they would not marry them, and I know that by your laws and customs it is not creditable fur a man and woman to live together un- married. They can't be I'espectable, except they are married, and I love my girls, and want them to be well settled, as much JIM BECKWITH, THE MULATTO, 327 as the whites do their own. I had rather live in the way we do, and my girls take care of themselves alone, than become paramours to beastly whites ; and they shall, too, as long as I live." Like all of his class, he sometimes indulged too freely in the use of ardent spirits, and when under its influence was quarrel- some and bad. " I know it is bad, it makes me a bad man when I drink it," he said, " and I wish I never could get a drop, but I can't always resist the temptation when it is offered to me. But sometimes, when I find the fit coming on, I go off where I can't get it, for the sake of my family." I thought liis example might be imitated with advantage by those who could boast of a superior education, and more refinement. One morning I got up, and casting my eyes in the direction of Peter's camp, I found his tent gone, and all signs of him had disappeared. He had gone ofl' very early, and I never heard of him afterwards. Among that reckless, daring class of men, who are met a- mong the savage tribes west of the Missouri, was Jim Beok- with, a mulatto, who was in California about the same time. For many years he had lived among the Rocky Mountain ti'ibes, and had led a life of wild adventure, and liis history is one continued scene of reckless daring and hair-breadth es- capes. He became a cliief of the Crow nation ; but he had lived with the Blackfeet, and had a wife among them, and of course stood on friendly relations with them. Being on one occasion out upon some excursion, he met a war party of Black- feet going against some belligerent tribe, and on their invitation he joined them. They were victorious, taking a number of scalps, and among them was that of a French trader, whom some of the Indians had killed in the skirmish. 328 LIFE ON THE PLAINS. Ou their return, the Blackfeet held -. .0' " .y .^' ■^^ ^^ ,-y^' ^ "'^ -fu.o< i '/••«' ^ ^i <>^ V ^\ , ^'i^. "4- .•^ 0^ ;