\i\'l ■ i » «. • • WESTERN WILDS, THE MEN WHO REDEEM THEM AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE, EMBRACINO AN ACCOUNT OF SEVEN YEARS TRAN^EL AND ADVENTURE IN THE FAR WEST; WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA; PERILS OF THE PLAINS;* LIFE IN THE CANON AND DEATH ON THE DESERT: THRILLING SCENES AND ROMANTIC INCI- DENTS IN THE LIVES OF WESTERN PIONEERS;/ ADVENTURES AMONG THE RED ANd(\VHITE SAVAGE^ OF THE, WEST; A FULL ACCOUNT OF THE . MOUNTAIN MEADOW MASSACRE; THE CUSTER DEFEAT; LIFE AND DEATH OF BRIGHAM YOUNG, ETC. INCr.UDING, ALSO, AN ELABORATE HISTORY AND DESCRII'TIO.N" Ol' TilK MINING DISTRICTS ; AN EXPERT DISCUSSION OK THE SUBJECT OF .MODEKS MINING ; A FL'LL RESUME OF MINING MATTERS AT THE Ol'ENlNG OF 1882. By J. H. BEADLE, Author of Life in Utah ; Westei-n Correspondent Cincinnati Commercial, etc. ILLUSTRATED. J. C. CHILTON PUBLISHING CO. DETROIT, MICH. M'^^'- 7 Copyright, 1877, by John T. Jones. I ' Y ^^\ In writing this work the author had two objects in view: to interest the reader; and to tell the exact truth about the country west of the Mississippi. As to the first, there is neither argument nor assertion ; the reader can only judge for himself after perusal. But, as to the second, the author firmly believes he has accomplished it. The Far West is an immense region, and no one man ever visited all sections of it. The most to be expected is that each • traveler shall seize upon the salient features of certain portions, and describe them in popular style. I have labored earnestly to give facts in regard to the lands still open to settlement; and I have been especially care- ful to correct certain errors as to soil and climate which I find very common in the East. We often hear it confidently asserted, and by those who ought to know, that "the American Desert is a myth— there is no desert in the West." I am sorry this statement is not true; but if there are not at least 300,000 square miles of utterly baxTen land, then "mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses," for I have lived and traveled many a week where not one acre in a hundred is fertile. I have aimed to avoid personalities, but I can not altogether refrain from harsh expressions as to the misstatements made in many land circulars; or the colored fixlsehoods of many maps, made "to invite immigration." Some critics will object that the work contains rather more about Utah and the Mormons than the subject warrants; and it is, perhaps, but natural that one should write at length on that which most interests him. But I apprehend this Utah question is one on which Americans generally need information; it is liable to call for prompt action by government at any time, and the people should be prepared to sustain their Representatives in all constitutional means to relieve the Nation of this disgrace. The author has been accused of undue prejudice against Brigham Young and other Mormon leaders; more space is therefore given to the legal evidence of their crimes than is usual in a popular work. Eight years ago I hunted up, from a score of sources, the facts of the Mountain Meadow Massacre; and, when published, there Avas a loud outcry that I had overdrawn the picture— " made it a newspaper sensation." I here present the testimony of witnesses in court. iv PREFACE. sworn and crossH?xaniined, to show tluit iny narrative of eight years ago was by far too mild; that in every charge then made against the Mormon Church I w:u5 within the truth. Nor do I admit tliat all the black details are yet known. Evidence is yet to be developed which will convince the most skeptical that Brigham Young was the accomplice and shield of murderers This is a hard Siiying, but rest assured it will be proved. If I have assumed too much in making myself an advocate for the political and civil rights of the Gentile minority in Utah, that minority can easily signify the same to their friends in the East who care to inquire. The Americans in Utah went there from the States, and did not change their natures when they changed their residence; they love liberty, and desire a share in the local government for the same reasons they did in the East. They have fought a good fight; they have accomplished much, and will do more. If my criticisms upon Gen. Thomas L. Kane and other apologists for Brighara appear severe, the record is presented to show their errors. Th«, record condemns them — not I. Of course there has been a great deal of twaddle and romance on the part of the opponents of IMormonism — there always is in matters of popular discussion; but the nearer we keep tc admitted fiicts, the more clearly we see that, on the main question, they ar< radically right, and Brigham's apologists radically wrong. Polygamy anc incest are admitted and defended in Utah; and it is a fair assumption that men who violate law in two such important i)articulars, will violate it in others, if their interest seems to require it. But, as mere inference is not enough in such matters, I have, as aforesaid, given more evidence than the aim and style of the work would have made desirable. Five million Americans exj)ect to go "West. There should be a new work on that section, written by some careful observer, at least once a year; for the changes there are many and rapid. Doubtless so plain a presentation of the discouraging features, as is here given, Avill have a depressing effect upon the ardent; but it is best to know the truth. There is not as much rooiu for us to grow in that direction as is popularly supposed, and Americans can Hot find it out too soon. So much for the main object of this work — truth. As to the interest in the narrative — kind reader, excuse me; I touch your hand, and without further apology introduce you to My Book. J. H. B. CoLtTMBUS, Ouio, October 1, 1877. CHAPTER I. THE HAWKEYES. I make a start.— Fair Iowa.— Yankee, Hoosier, Buckeye, and Scandinavian.— The Aryan wave.— Hoosier grammar.— Sorrows of the non-resident land-owner.— " The walled lakes."— Greatness of the Border States.— " Hoss high, bull strong, and pig tight."— The 'hoppers.— "Omahawgs" and "Omaliens."— "Milkville" and " Bilkville."— Rural Nebraska.— Agricultural wealth.— Pawnees, Otoes, Omahaws.— The Bedouin in- stinct.-" Go West." . . . • • • 1^-2^ CHAPTER II. A WESTERN CHARACTER. Unsung heroes.— Scenes in Southern Kansas.—" Shuck up."—" Fevernager."— My host's story.— He leaves Tennessee for New Orleans.— "Chawin' rags for a paper- mill."— Up into the Cherokee country.— Another run to New Orleans.— Walk home through the "Injun" country.— Murder of Mcintosh and others.— War between the Rossites and Ridgeites.— Exposure and fever.— Delirium.— Rescued by the "little Cherokee girl."— Home again.— Joe and Myra.— More trouble with the Cherokees.— Journey to Iowa.— In danger from the " Danites."— Mrs. Joe's " tantrums."— Captured by the" Hawkeyes.— Interview with Judge Lynch.— Horrible murder of Miller and Liecy.— Hanging of the Hodges.— Terrible times on the Half-breed Tract.— The Califor- nia excitement.— Start from Independence.— Troubles on the way.— Danger and death on the great desert.— Among the gold hunters.— More murders.— Return to Tennessee.— The great war.— Death of the boys.— Removal to Indian Territory.— " Won't there be peacewhilellive?"— Rest at last 25-44 CHAPTER III. THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. Flush times in Omaha.— Some characters.— Will Wylie's escape.— " Seen the Elephant."— "A neck-tie sociable."— " Coppered on the jack."— Apostate Mormons' caravan.— Up the slope to Cheyenne.—" Dirty Jule's."— The Plains.—" Magic City."— Passage of the Black Hills.— Virginia Dale.— Laramie Plains.— Benton.— Alkali Desert.— Evanescent "cities."— Bear River City.— Battle with the roughs.— More Mormons.— "Catfish with legs."— Horrors of Bitter Creek.— Green River.— Bridger Plains.— The author a mule-whacker.- Grandeur of Echo Canon.— Weber Valley.— Up to Parley's Park.— Down Parley's Canon.— First view of the Salt Lake.—" City of ^ the Saints."- 1 become a Gentile sinner 45-55 (V) vi CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. geffkoy's trials. On Griffith ^lountain, Colorado. — "Are we the authore of onr own dcfltiny?" — Geffrey's narrative answers. — Beautiful Geneva. — Frenchy fancies vs. German phlegm. — A young enthusiast. — Hunting the Brotherhood of Man. — At New Harmony, Indiana. — Failure of Communism. — At Nauvoo. — At Communia. — On the plains. — Enlist with the Texan patriots of '43. — Bright pictures. — Stern realities. — " The River of Souls." — The ticiras templadas. — In the Wild Canon. — Posted on the Taos Trail. — Another frightful march. — Down to the Cimarron. — Another trial of the desert. — Night attack on the Mexican camp. — Victory, followed in turn by flight. — Loss of the horses. — Geffroy and friend go after them. — Surrounded by Mexicans. — A dash for life. — Headlong leap into the chasm. — Oblivion, or death? 56-71 CHAPTER V. DOLORES. Return to consciousness. — Laid up in the cabin. — Love and convalescence. — The captured Americans.- -Dolores' plan. — The parting. — Gomez and the Pueblos. — Halt at Jemcz. — Meeting the Navajoes. — A land of wonders. — Among the ^loquis, — A simple, civil, and unwarlike race. — A race without envy or covetousness. — Joyful meeting with Dolores. — Los Diabolos Gringos. — Flight for the north. — Lost on the desert. — The horrors of thirst. — Another day of anguish. — Life in the rock. — "With our lips pressed to the rock we drew new life." — Hope revived. — Pursuit by the Mexicans. — W^ounding and death of Dolores. — Agony of Geffroy. — Enlists as a soldier. — The war in Mexico. — Revisits Switzerland. — 1848: the year of Revolutions. — In the army of Baden. — Capture and long imprisonment. — Liberty, when hope was dead. — Return to the Far West. — " The Brotherhood of Man comes not by spasmodic struggles, but by steady toil." 72-89 CHAPTER VI. POLYGAMIA. I meet Brigham & Co. — Topography of his kingdom. — I reside there a year. — And become a hated Gentile. — Mormon notabilities: Brigham, Orson Pratt, Hooper, Geo. A. Smith. — "The One-eyed Pirate of the Wasatch." — Polygamy, Bigamy, Brighamy, Mo- nogamy, and other gamies. — Utah politics. — Noted Gentiles. — Liberal Mormons. — Credu- lous skeptics. — " No trade with non-Mormons." — Consequent troubles. — Persecution of dissenters. — Journey to Sevier. — Beauties of Pine Gulch. — Return to " Zion." — " There's a better day coming." — Religious lying. — Perjury " for Christ's sake." . . 90-10£ CHAPTER VII. THE PACIFIC SLOPE. "Westward again. — Corinne. — Promontory. — Dead Fall, Murder Gulch, Last Chance, and Painted Post. — "Do me a favor: shoot me through the head!" — Fine morality of the gamblers. — The Great Nevada Desert. — " Sinks," — Up the Truckee. — State Line.^ Down tha Sierras. — Wonders of Cape Horn. -Sacramento. — '• San .Jooykwinn." — Or San AVahkecn? — In Yolo County. — Davisville. — Chinese and silk culture. — Tides. — Fruits CONTENTS. vii and wine. — Does it supersede whisky? — The California seasons. — "Frisco." — Chinese Theater. — The tragedy of Kip Sah. — Buddhist ceremonies. — A gloomy sort of religion.-. "Top-side Josh." — The devil-drive. — "Chinaman like Melica man," . . 103-116 CHAPTER VIII. TWO YEARS OF CHANGE. Utah and trouble. — "Mormon hospitality." — The author mobbed and badly hurt, but recovers rapidly. — Healing air of the mountains. — Rich mineral discoveries in V Utah. — The Gentiles take heart. — The Emma Mine.— I go to Washington as a lobbyist. — And don't like it.— Further travels in Utah.— Polygamy again.— Eev. J. P. Newman shows that there are but thirteen polygamists mentioned in the Bible. — And hundreds of good monogamists. — Orson Pratt comes back at him. — High times in the Taber- nacle. — Some of the nasty features of polygamy. — Such as incest and indecency. — A vil- lage composed of Taylors.— And one made up of Winns. — General view of the Terri- tory.— And of the Far West 117-128 CHAPTER IX. THE MISSOURI VALLEY. Kansas City: a modern Rome. — We look at it, but do not invest. — The "Land of Zion." — Lawrence. — " The Wakarusa AVar." — The Massacre of 1863. — The Athens of the West. — Our journey southward: The Leavenworth, Lawrence, and Galveston Road. — Ottawa. — Western Yankees. — " Brother K 's blooded mare.'"—" Buffalo stamps." — A progressive country. — Fertility of Allen and Neosho counties. — An incorrigible old man. — Cherryvale. — The beautiful mounds. — The social Kansian. — " Sna-a-a-kes!" — Northward to Leavenworth. — Quindaro Chindmvan. — "A second Babylon." — Wyandotte. — Atchison. — Troy. — St. Joe. — Up the Missouri Valley. — Council Bluffs. — Omaha. — On northward. — Sioux City. — Onawa. — Woodbury. — Staging to Yankton. — Dakotians: French, Scandinavians, and Bohemians. — "Woman's Rights:" to do as much work as she can. — The gentle savage. — lapi Oahyef — "Portable talk." — Northern Dakota. — Western Dakota. — We leave suddenly for California 129-139 CHAPTER X. THE WONDERS OF CALIFORNIA. All aboard for Yosemite! — From chilly "Frisco" to melting Stockton. — By rail to Milton. — Hot drive among the foot-hills. — Copperopolis. — The broiling stage; air dead calm; thermometer 100°. — In the cool grove at last. — The vegetable wonders of the Avorld. — A tree thirty -two feet thick. — " Fatlier and Mother." — " Husband and Wife," 250 feet high. — "Uncle Tom's Cabin." — How came they here? — California names. — Over Table Mountain. — " Truthful James." — Old mining towns. — Sonora. — Chinese Camp. — Garrote. — The Tuolumne Grove. — Tamarack Flat. — Reminiscences of the "strong-minded." — First view of Yosemite. — Prospect Peak. — The terrible descent. — A fall of 2,667 feet. — El Capitan: Tu-loch-ah-nu-la.—A reverie on Cosmos. — Mirror Lake. — Reflected glories.— The climb to Nevada Falls. — Down by Vernal Falls. — The sublime and beautiful. — J. M. Hutchings, the pioneer. — " Spirit of the Evil Wind." — "Great Chief of the Valley." — Down hill to San Francisco. — Climate of the Coast. — A day at the Cliff House. — Poluphloisboio Thalasses. — Regretful good-bye to the Pacific Coast 140-103 viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XL UTAH AUGENTIFERA. Gentiles after silver: Mormons after the Gentiles. — " Revelations" and prospecting. — ■ Up Little Cottonwood. — The silver lodes — Snow-slides. — 12,000 feet above the sea. — Bald Peak, and a view of 20,000 square miles. — Big Cottonwood Canon. — The great fire. — Ameriean Fork Canon: the Yosemite of Utah. — Mormon farmers rs. Gentile mountain- eers. — " The Republic of Tooele." — East Caiion and horn silver. — Chloride Cave. — Dry Canon. — Wild times in the West Mountains. — A Goshoot feast. — I start to Dugway. — And gel lost on the desert. — A lonesome night. — Danger and weariness. — Ninety miles travel in twentj'-seven hours. — Independence Day on Great Salt Lake. — "No gulls in Utah before the Mormons came." — Sailing on the Lake. — Mines in southern Utah. — Beaver City. — Mineral wealth of the Territory. — Shall we annex L'tah to Ne- vada? ■>- 164-181 CHAPTER XII. A CHAPTER OF BETWEENS. Joe Allkire talks. — Valley tan wliisky calls up reminiscences. — "A bad streak o' luck." — " Sod-corn barefooted." — Millerites. — '' Misses Chew splits the choir." — The grand dog-fight. — Which broke up a town. — "That yaller and spotted dog." — Abraham and the preacher clinch. — " No Morgan-killers need apply." — " The head abolishinists." — Si Duvall's luck. — Union Flats becomes very flat. — Other reminiscences. — Men who had tried many fields. — Story of the mountaineer. — Will and Bob McAfee. — Camp in Arkansas Canon. — The storm, and falling timber. — Dreadful alternative of the un- wounded brother. — He "relieves" the other's torture. — And dies of grief and re- morse. .............. 182-193 CHAPTER XIII. OKLAHOMA. A new route to the Pacific. — I enter the Indian Territory. — Yinita. — " White Chero- kees." — Cabin Creek. — Mixed bloods. — "It comes back on 'em." — Christian Indians. — Muscogee.— Also Muskokce. — The Creeks at home. — Ala-bah-ma: "Here we rest." — Natchees and Ilitchitees. — An Aboriginal Democracy. — House of Kings and House of Warriors. — Pcthlij hohkohkn. — Tallahassee Mission. — The Muskokee in love. — " Beautiful River." — Brad Collins and his gang. — Oklahoma vs. Okmulkee. — Red hot on temper- ance. — In the Choctaw country. — Tandy Walker. — Among the Cherokees. — The Big Rattling Gourd and other politicians. — Cherokee history. — Civilized Indians of the Territory.— What shall we do with them? .... . . 194-211 CHAPTER XIV. JOURNEY TO THE RIO GRANDE. Northward again. — Out on the Kansas Pacific. — A beautiful country. — Ellsworth. — Carnival of crime in 1867.— "Wild Bill."— J. II. Runkle.— "Rake Jake."— " Dad Smith." — " Shall we have a man for breakfast? " — Heroic, but murderous. — Bisons and business. — Arrival at Denver. — Rest and enjoyment. — Southward by the narrow-guage railway. — The Divide. — Timbered region. — Colorado City — Take stage-coach. — Pueblo. — Night in the stage. — Cocharas. — The scfioritas. — Another day of staging. — Trinidad. — The Raton Mountains. — Down upon the New Mexican side. — Wild scenes. — Maxwell's Ranche. — Passage of the Rocky Ridge. — A snow storm and a grizzly. — Down to Santa CONTENTS. IX Fe. — Disappointed with the city. — A queer old town. — High-sounding names.- — Indian troubles.— Starting for Fort Wingate. — La Bajada. — Quiea Sabef — Pueblos Indians. — Valley of the Kio Grande. — Albuquerque — The gente fina. — The "Greasers." — Will they ever amount to any thing ? 212-229 CHAPTEK XV. TOLTECCAN. Tlie oldest inhabitant. — Alvar Nunez, etc., traverses New Mexico. — What he saw and how he lied about it. — " The Seven Cities of Cibola." — Conquest of New Mexico. — Revolt of the Pueblos. — Second Conquest. — High-toned grandees. — Caste. — Sad (?) oc- currence.— Should the Territory be made a State? — Citizen Indians. — Queer old cus- toms. — Parental authority. — Enterprise. — The universal burro. — We cross the Rio Grande. — And enter on the desert. — The awful, the unutterable desert. — Sufferings from thirst. — Reach " Hog River." — Dead Man's Caiion. — Another desert. — Oasis of El Rito. — Degenerate Spaniards. — Pueblo de Laguna. — An Aztec relic. — El Cubero. — "Women's Rights." — 3lala Pais. — Agua Azul. — The extinct volcano. — Drive to Fort Wingate. — My companion comes to grief. — Ojo del oso. — Zuni. — Stinking Springs. — The Puerco of the West.— Down to Fort Defiance . 230-248 CHAPTER XVI. WILD LIFE IN ARIZONA. The gathering, — Canon Benito. — Handsome Indian girls. — Navajo patience. — A mixed tongue. — " Slim-man-with-a-white-eye." — El-soo-see En-now-lo-kyh. — "Big Quill." — Murder of Agent Miller. — Sorrow of the Navajoes. — Their kindness and courtesy. — Off for a trip. — My Navajo guide. — " Tohh Mohh no mas." — Descent into Caiion de Chelley. — Wonders on wonders. — The "cliff cities." — Moonlight in the canon.^Out again on the desert. — An awful passage. — The hot alkali plains. — Thirst and suffering. — " Hah-koh, Melicano/" — Approach to the Moqui towns. — Amazement of the inhabitants. — The city set on a rock. — The strangest people in the world. — Chino and Misiamtewah. — The Mo- quis welcome me gladly. 249-267 CHAPTER XVII. AMONG THE AZTECS. Topography of Arizona. — A region of hot sands and barren mountains, of fierce savages and gentle Indians, of rich mines and wild, forbidding wastes. — The Mesa Ca- labasa. — Zunis, Teguas, Moquis, Oraybes, Papagoes, Pimos, and Coco-Maricopas. — Rapid decay of the wild tribes. — Noble Navajoes. — Their native shrewdness, industry and bravery. — Who are they? — Aztecs? — Barboncito. — Ganado Mucho. — Their handi- work. — Their temperance and endurance. — Life at Moqui. — "Ho, Melicano, messay vo.'" — Jesus Papa. — Moqui theology. — The "white Indians" of Arizona. — Ruins. — Aztec or Toltec? — Comparison with mound-builders' remains. — And South American Ruins. — Only a theory. — Which no one is bound to accept 268-286 CHAPTER XVIII. FROM MOQUI TO THE COLORADO. Two hundred miles of desert. — Aboriginal mail service. — A new guide. — His nel- soass. — Good-bye, Chino! — ^Journey to the new Navajo camp. — "Damn Espafiol, shteal mooch." — On the sandstone mesa. — A pleasant party of four. — " Todos muerios, pero mas X CONTENTS. Apaches!"— knoiher sandstone waste.— First view of the river, 5,000 feet below ns.— Getting down the cliff— Water and salts.— At the river at last.— No boats.— Perilous pass:igc.— Tlie wliite woman: "My God, stranger, did you risk your life to swim that river? "—The Mormon convort's story.— Three days at the ferry.— Parting from my Na- vajo friends. ... 287-300 CHAPTER XIX. A STARTLING INTERVIEW. I meet with a surprise.—" Major Doyle " proves to be John D. Lee.— And tells me the story of his crime.— He describes the events leading to the Mountain Meadow Massacre.— Character of the murdered emigrants.— They are charged with being ene- mies of the Mormon people.— The latter incensed.— And determined on revenge.— Did they poison the spring?— Or murder friendly Indians?- Outrage on Mrs. Evans.— The Mormon Council.— Death of the emigrants determined upon.— The closing tragedy.— Lee's excuses and subterfuges.— His further history.— A story horrible enough for the most inveterate sensationalist.— I bid the Lees good-bye.— And with no regrets.— Grand canon of the Colorado.— Ride to Jacob's Pool.— Thence to Spring-in-Rock.— Lonely camping out.— My solitary journey to Kanab.— The Pi-Ede band of savages.—" Toh, aguu, water!"- Rest at Kanab.— Jacob Hamlin.— The Powell party.— On the desert again.— Pipe Springs.— Our bishop landlord.— Another ride over rock and sand.— Gould's Ranche.— Virgin City.— Toquerville.— " Mormon Dixie."— At Isaac Haight's.— Kanarra.— Another misfortune.— Ride to Parowan. — Little Salt Lake. — Arrive at Beaver. —Staging thence to Salt Lake City 301-316 CHAPTER XX. THE FAIR APOSTATE. English homes.— Radical and Conservative; Chartist and Monarchist.— Coming of the Mormon missionary. — Simple lives changed. — Voyage to America. — The hand-cart emigration.— Frightful sufferings on the plains.— Death on all sides.— Starved, frozen, torn bv the wolves.— The Old Radical finds the Brotlierliood of Man.— A young hero. — Willie Manson concludes to go West.— Jpurneys thro' Illinois and Iowa.— Meets a queer party.— The year 1857.— His sufferings.— At Camp Floyd.— Goes to the city.— Sickness and fever. — A familiar face by his pillow 317-331 CHAPTER XXI. THE FAIR APOSTATE — CONTINTJED. Hot times in "Zlon." — "Tlie Reformation." — Arrival of the hand-cart emigrants. — An epidemic madness.— Horrible reign of lust and fanaticism.— United States officials driven out.— Mormon war begun.— Skill and daring of Mormon guerrillas.— But the Gentile army enters the Valley. — 30,000 Mormons move south.— But return and submit peaceably.;— Willie ^VLanson's new friends. — More apostates.— John Banks and Thomas James. — Little Marian becomes Miss Marian. — And Manson does not understand the change.— In his perplexity he hears doctrine.— And reproof. — But hardens his heart. — A new prophet. — Joseph Morris. — ^lorrisite Camp on the Weber.— Attacked and broken up by the Brighamitcs.— Murder of the women. — Barbarous killing of iMorris and Banks. — Flight of Thomas James. — Exhausted, he lies down to die. — Beatty and Man- son off for Montana. — Relieve James. — War with the Bannocks. — Desperate eiTcounters. — Four years amid the gold fields. — Manson becomes a mati.' — The friends hear that all is peace in Utah.— And together return to " Zion." 332-347 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XXII. THROUGH GREAT TRIBULATION^. Briglit days in Cache Valley. — A brother and a sister restored to fellowshij* — Thomas James is again happy with Christina. — But he is a bishop's rival, and that means danger. — "Blood atonement." — A nameless horror. — The man becomes a creature. — Manson perplexed. — "Keep your eye peeled; this is a queer country." — Eed-hot dis- cussion of polygamy. — News from James; which is no news. — Anti-Gentile Philippics. — Manson meets Marian. — A good outcome at last. — Astonishing conduct of Elder Bri- arly. — Mystery added to mystery. — Another Gentile panic. — Murder of Brassfield. — Out- rages on Gentile settlers. — Murder of Dr. Robinson. — Flight of the Gentile pre-emptors. — Sad fate of Thomas James. — Bishop Warren has his reward. — But heaven is kinder to Christina than her own people. — She finds release in death. — Briarly flies from the Territory. — Marian and Manson. — Their Iowa home. — But Utah is the home of the soul. — And President Grant has given us hope. — Hank Beatty's crime. — Death of his wife. — The Mansons return to Utah. — As their troubles ended with a marriage, their future state is left to faith 348-370 CHAPTER XXIII. SWINGING 'round THE CIRCLE. Off for Soda Springs. — A land of wonders. — A chemical laboratory ten miles square. — Soda by the ton: to be had for the taking. — The "Morrisites" again. — A lit- tle run eastward. — Denver. — Lawrence. — St. Louis. — A day in Nauvoo: " Destined cap- ital of a religious empire." — To the new North-west. — Yankton. — Assassination of Secretary McCook. — Steamboating on the Missouri. — Sioux City again. — Enterprising, but sensational. — Off for Minnesota. — We enter the Garden State. . . 371-378 CHAPTER XXIV. MINNESOTA. Reminiscences of 1859. — The Bois Brules. — Full-blood Chippeways. — Minnesota pineries. — The Red Napoleon of the North-west. — "Hard times" in 1859.-1 live on corn-bread, hoe corn, and cultivate muscle. — Better times. — Sioux war of 1862. — Blue- earth County. — Mankato. — Journey to St. Paul. — Topography. — St. Anthony's Falls. — Minnehaha. — Journey to Sauk Rapids. — Staging thence northward. — Belle Prairie. — Catholic outposts.— Crow Wing. — Black Pine Forest.— Brainard.— Breaking up the Sab- bath. — A Chippeway dance.— Out on the North Pacific R. R.— The barren region.— Down to Red River.— Moorehead. — Navigation to British America.— Fargo. — Westward by construction train.— Dakota's Salt Lake.— Jimtown.— Eastward again.— The lake region.— Scenery on the St. Louis River.— Among the Scandinavians.—" Postoff."— Jay Cooke's Banana Zone 379-389 CHAPTER XXV. THE TVAY TO OREGON. " Let us try the web-feet."— Through Iowa.— Westward from Omaha.— Changes of four years. — My fourteenth trip over the Union Pacific. — More trouble in Utah. — Across the Sierras again. — Up the Sacramento.— Gen. .John Bidwell's ranche. — Grapes, figs, apples, and lemons in November.— Reading. — Walk-in Miller's squaw.— His life in jail. — Great forests of the upper Sacramento.— fe Caillotix. — "Sleeping Dictionary.-'-' — Yreka.— Over the mountains.— Klamath River.— Cow Creek.— South Umpqua.— Rose- xii CONTENTS. hurgh. — Oregon and California Eailroad. — Down the "Willamette. — "Beaver Lands." — In Portland. — ''Such a fog!"— "John Ciiinaman." — First-class funerals needed. — "Web- feet " maidens. — Shall we go home bv sea? — Down the Columbia by steamer. — " High sea running." — "Oh, my head, my stomach! O-o-o! " — The boat goes on end. — The land-lubbers fall on all sides. — Better weather. — "On an even keel." — Beauties of the Pacific. — Cape ^lendocino. — The Golden Gate. — Once more on leira firma. 390-405 CHAPTER XXVI. LjVS TEXAS Y LOS TEJANOS. "G. T. T."— Bad reputation.— " You may go to hell, and Pll go to Texas."— The author finds things improved. — Through the Indian Territory. — Bed River. — Deni- son. — "Isohth Fohk." — Healthy region. — "The spiral maginnis" or " De menin- jeesus." — At Sherman. — Down Main Trinity. — Travels in Collin County. — The Cotton Belt. — In Ellis County. — Navarro and Corsicana. — Insects and other sects. — " A thou- sand and forty-four legs." — Through Central Texas to Houston. — Buffalo Bayou. — De- lightful ride to Galveston. — Celebration of San Jacinto. — " Brave Texan : bravest man in the South, sah!" — Delights of the Galveston beach. — Beauties of the island. — Up country. — The land of border romance. — Bob Rock and his brown mestiza. — Hon. "Shack" Roberts. — Some political notes. — A tolerant and liberal State. 406-418 CHAPTER XXVII. HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF TEXAS. La Salle. — First Settlement on the coast. — Origin of the border question. — Murder of La Salle. — The murderers murdered. — The missions. — Indios reduddos. — " Reduced " by prayer and fasting. — The " men of reason." — War between the French and Spanish. — Massacre of San Saba. — Decline of the Missions. — Louisiana ceded to Spain. — Better times in Texas. — Louisiana ceded back to France. — The border question again. — The United States takes a hand. — Fearful murders and robberies. — Magec's expedition. — Des- perate battle. — ^Magee kills himself. — Surrender of his army. — They are barbarously massacred by the Spaniards. — Revolution in Mexico. — More trouble in Texas. — Mose^ and Stephen Austin. — Oppression of the Texans. — Revolution. — Heroic defense of the Alamo. — Fannin's command butchered. — Glorious victory of San Jacinto. — Independenc*'' and subsequent events. — Descriptive sketch of the State. .... 419-43? CHAPTER XXVIII. KANSAS REVISITED. Through the new counties. — "Hard times."— The Grangers' War. — Woman suf' frage. — Allen County. — Neosho. — Labette. — The Bender murderers. — Their real fate.-^ Coffey ville. — Ten square miles of cattle! — "Not a good year for stock, either." — The cattle trails. — Montgomery County. — Kansas politics. — The Osage diminished Re- serve. — Independence City. — Elk River. — Wilson County. — Neodesha. — Kansas cotton. — Into the mound region. — Westward, ho! — Among the flint hills. — South-western Kansas. —General view of the State .... 432-446 CHAPTER XXIX. COLORADO. W^estward again. — 1874. — Disappearance of the buffalo. — Reach Denver. — A long rest. — Narrow-guage for Georgetown. — The sublime and beautiful in Clear Creek CONTENTS. xiii Canon. — Floyd Hill. — Stage to Idaho Springs. — To Georgetown. — 2,000 miners. — But where are the women? — High climbs. — Cool retreats. — Independence Day on the summit of the Rocky Mountains. — Snow banks and iced brooks. — Beauties of the upper parks. — Drive to Gray's Peak. — The September storm. — Climb through snow and ice. — 14,400 feet above the sea. — And a fearful snow-stoi-m in summer. — Down to Denver. — Up to Caribou. — Wild beauty of Boulder Canon and Falls. — The rich silver lodes. — On the plains again. — Eide to Greeley and Evans. 447-46U CHAPTER XXX. THE CENTENNIAL STATE. Coronado. — Mythologic age of Colorado. — Pike sees his Peak. — The hunters and trappers. — Bloody encounters. — Love, treachery, and retribution. — Gold! — The great rush.—" Pike's Peak." — Society takes shape. — Miners' laws. — People's courts. — Attempts at a Territory. — Successful at last: the 38th State. — Our life in Georgetown. — Griffith Mountain. — "The Holy Cross." — Rich silver mines. — The Dives-Pelican Lode. — Curiosities of mining. — " Sam Wann," or Juan. — Silver by millions. — Southern Colo- rado. — The White Desert. — Possibilities of the new State. . . . 470-489 CHAPTER XXXI. THE MORMON MURDERERS. Another year in Utah. — Capture of John D. Lee. — His awful crime. — Mormon madness in 1857. — Assassination of Parley P. Pratt. — The doomed emigrants pass Salt Lake City. — Are harassed as they go south. — Attacked and besieged. — Surrender to Lee and others. — A plot hatched in hell. — The demon Higby gives the signal. — Fearful scenes of blood. — One hundred and thirty-one Americans fall victims to Mormon malice! — And the Governor of Utah "never heard of it!" — Brigham certifies to a falsehood. — And swears to another. — Strange chain of events leading to discovery. — Lee brought to trial. — Shameful farce of selecting jurymen. — A black case made out. — Brigham's remarkable deposition. 490-511 CHAPTER XXXII. GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY ? Astonishing conduct of Mormon jurymen. — They refuse to convict. — But the Mor- mon Church can not afford to sustain Lee any longer. — They decide to give him up. — Another trial in 187(5. — And a Mormon jury convict Lee. — Sentence pronounced by Judge Boreman. — Appeal. — Date of execution postponed to March, 1877. — Executed ujion the very spot of his ci'ime. — Lee's final and complete confession. — His last words. — His peaceful and heroic death. — Was Brigham Young guilty? — Brigham's apologists. — Captain John Codman, Geo. Q. Cannon, Gen. Thomas L. Kane. . . 512-530 CHAPTER XXXIII. THE NOBLE RED MAN. The tragedy of June 25th, 1876.— Sketch of Custer's life.— Hancock's campaign.— Custer's first Indian fight.— Massacre of Lieutenant Kidder and party.— Sully's cam- paign.— Custer's Washita campaign.— Yellowstone expedition.— Murder of Honzinger and Baliran.— Arrest and escape of Rain-in-the-Face.— Black Hills expedition.— Gold. —Events of 1875.— Campaign of 1876 against Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse.— Custer in disgrace at headquarters.— Descent on the hostile camp.— The bloody ending.— Sitting Bull goes to Canada, and Crazy Horse to the happy hunting grounds— perhaps. 531-557 XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTEK XXXIV. PROSPECTINO AND MIKING. "Hoodoo " mines. — Where not to look. — Geological formation of Mississippi Valley. — Into the mountains. — Looking for " float." — The amusing " pilgrim." — We find a " blos- som." — And post a notice. — Searching for "indications." — Proportion of metal found in (ire. — We have found a mine. — Taking out a United States Patent. — Counter claimants. — Summary of mining laws 558-567 CHAPTEE XXXV. MINING FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES. LeadviUe, the Magic City. — From Hoosicrdom to Denver. — Greenhorn Range. — The Royal Gorge. — Railroad enterprise. — Good spelling and bad pronunciation. — Grand scenery. — An artificial thaw. — Geological formation of Arkansas Valley. — Haphazard prospecting. — Yield of Leadville mines in 1880. —Future possibilities. — The romance cf Leadville. — Early discoveries. — The big strikes. — Sudden wealth and fast life. — A business of $18,000,000 a year. — The Grand Smelter. — An expert examination of ores. — The ides, the ets, and the ates. — Influence of mines on a locality. . . 568-585 CHAPTER XXXVI. MINING IN 1882. The trans-continental railways. — The Wild West abolished. — Railway development in New Mexico. — The Desert. — The Casas Grandas ruins. — The great Silver King mine. — Globe City. — Rough roads and alkali dust. — Tombstone. — The mining interests. — Fu- ture prospects. — A view of Arizona — New Mexico and Colorado. — Silver Cliffand Rosita. — Peculiar geological formation. — Increase in population of Colorado. — Denver. — The Black Hills. — Annual metal product of Colorado. — Natural wealth of the W'est. 586-596 CHAPTER XXXVII. THE DEAD PROPHET. Brigham dies. — His history.—" Hard working Brigham Young." — The Kirtland folly. — Brigham carries a level head. — Building up Nauvoo. — Martha Brotherton "blabs." — Hot water. — "Spiritual wifery" introduced. -" Persecution." — Death of Joe Smith. — Head of the Twelve Apostles. — .Journey to Salt Lake Valley. — Trouble with the United States. — As a marrying man. — His wives: Mary Ann, Lucy, Clara, Emmeline, Amelia, and others. — An extensive parent. — Division of his estate. — John Taylor comes into an easy succession. — Collapse of Brigham's great plans. — A discussion of the problem of Mormonism. — Declining. — Moral storm approaching. — Then comes a better day. 597-610 CHAPTER XXXVIII. WHERE SHALL WE SETTLE? Go West! — Southern Minnesota. — Iowa. — Southern Dakota. — Nebraska. — ^Kansas. The Indian Territory. — No! — Texas. — Don't believe all you hear! — The Indian bor- der. — California: Land monopoly. — Oregon. — Climate and soil.^"The Great American Desert." — Probable population in 1900. — Where is the surplus population to go? — Good land pretty well occupied. — What will be the result? — Western Wilds will continue wild for a eenturv to come 611-628 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Map of Aboriginal America Froktispiece The non-resident tax-payer 19 "Our liberties, sir " 21 " Civilized " 24 " Thoroughly acclimated " 26 " I hunted the pipe-works " ^ Mrs. Joe's " tantrums " 35 " Made music all day " _ 40 His last chance 45 "Laying on of hands " 47 " The good old time " 49 "Only a memory" 51 Pulpit Rock : Echo Cafion 54 The Great Salt Lake 55 On the slope of Griffith Mountain 56 To the rendezvous 62 Caiion de las Animas 65 Getting down to the Cimarron 67 For life or death 71 "Someone came forward holding a cup " 73 " The Mexicans saw no way " 74 " Dolores fainted in my arms " 81 " The balls whis^ :d around us " 85 Brigham Young 90 Orson Pratt 91 George A. Smith 92 Brigham's Residences 95 Humboldt Palisades 105 Seven thousand feet above the sea 107 Cape Horn 108 California Agricultural Report 112 Barbary Coast: San Francisco 115 "Bodaciously chawed up" 118 Mormon wives for summer and winter 121 Great expectations 135 Dakotas torturing a Pawnee 138 The two guardsmen 141 The Fallen Monarch 142 Something of a stump 143 A monster 145 Yosemite Falls 147 El Capitan 149 Bridal Veil Fall 152 Sentinel Rock 155 North Dome and Roj^al Arches 157 Nevada Falls 159 Vernal Falls 160 Mirror Lake 161 Mormon Militia 165 Chloride Cave, Lion Hill 171 Goshoot Love-feast 173 Lost on the Desert 176 Deacon Chew 183 " They broke loose and lit out down the street " 184 " And they clinched " 185 "Half the town took ashy at him " 186 The Seat of War 187 "Where warring tribes met in peace" 189 Fine field for the ethnologist 195 "Slem-lem-an-dah-mouch-wah-ger " 201 (XV) xvi ILL US TEA TIONS. PAGE "Go West" 211 Wild Bill 2A3 "Soatttiing leaden death on all sides" 214 "Divide Hotel and Ranche" 216 "Suggested wild beasts and banditti" 220 The ambush and running light 225 Pueblo Maiden 230 Kit Carson 234 Pueblo Cacique 235 "Woman's Rights" 242 Coming to the "count" 249 On the Mesa Calabasa 269 "Converted on the spot" 271 Navajo Ijooni 2'/3 Aztec Priest and Warrior 284 Down the Cliff 294 Climbing for water . . . \ 295 Mouth ol' Pahreah Creek 301 Head of the (irand Cailon 304 "Three little Injuns" 312 A Pi-Ede Ceres 313 Winter camp of Goshoots 325 Scenes on the Colorado Plateau 330 " Dashed across the burning plain " 335 Tliomas James kills the Bannock 346 " Behold our Lamanite Brother" 3.56 "Let me look toward old England before I die" 367 " Willie has struck chloride " 369 Shoshonees with annuity goods 372 Burning of the Mormon Temple . . ' 375 Killing of Secretary McCook 377 Pembina people and ox-carts 3/9 Winter in Minnesota pineries 380 Minnehaha in winter 385 Dalles of St. Louis River 389 Blue Cafion, Sierra Nevada 391 Cotillion on the stump of the mammoth tree 394 View in the Modoc country 396 Rapids, Upper Columbia ^02 Cape Mendocino 404 410 Comanche warrior "I spiled his aim" 416 Un Indio Bravo ^21 Texas and Coahuila in 1830 ^26 General Sam Houston ^28 " Droughty Kansas " ^33 " Good Osage— Heap good Injun " -1^0 Affluent of Clear Creek j49 South-west from Gray's Peak 461 Deadly combat of Vaughn and La Bonte 4^4 Toiling up Griffith Mountain . Capture of John D. Lee Mountain Meadow Massacre Salt Lake City, 1857 Execution of John D. Lee The Noble Red Man Scene of Sioux War of 1876 533 480 4',il 498 513 525 531 " Busted Custer's first Indian Fight 5:34 536 Rude Surgery of the Plains ^1 Night Scene in the Cafion A new Mining Town 571 578 Cape Horn and Rjvil-road, Sierra Nevada 588 " Giantess," Big Geyser of the Yellowstone 594 The Mormon Tabernacle ^^ Fort Massachu.«etts, New Mexico, 1855 <520 The Prospector's Peril ^-4 WESTERN WILDS, THE MEN WHO REDEEM THEM. CHAPTER I. THE HAWKEYES. The rolling prairies of Iowa were taking on their richest summer hues when I crossed from Prairie du Chien to McGregor, the first of June, 1868, and entered upon a three hundred mile walk across the State. The " Land of the Sleepy," as the aboriginal name implies, was just then the land of men particularly wide awake to their own inter- ests. I was but one of a grand army ever pushing westward — active, aggressive, and defiant of space and time. Iowa combined the advan- tages of both East and West, and men of all North-European races were crowding to possess it. There was the Yankee, moving on with that resistless energy which distinguishes the emigrant from our " Dorian Hive." More rarely ap- peared the " Buckeye " and " Hoosier ;" their route was a little farther south, for emigration pays some attention to isothermal lines, and as a rule older States settle the new States directly west of them. There was the blonde Swede, tall and sinewy, his blue eye lighting cheerfully at sight of such landed wealth, iji a clime a little milder than his own. Dane and Norwegian were also hurrying into north-western Iowa and southern Dakota. All these Scandinavian races are rarely seen south of latitude 40°, but fill whole townships in our new North-west. Dutch, Irish, Swiss, and North Germans contributed each a small t][uota. One might have fancied himself borne forward on the crest of that great Aryan wave which rolled westward and northward from Ba- bel's plains. Four years after I found many of these emigrants in Da- kota ; already at home upon well-improved farms, and surrounded with most of the comforts of life. 2 (17) 18 WESTERN WILDS. Iowa and Minnesota were doubtless settled by the best class of im- init:;rants that ever left the East. Their laws are favorable, their insti- tutions progressive. Born republicans, these new-comers fell, by nat- ural law, into free and progressive commonwealths. At first view one would say that our mother P^nglish was in danger of being lost, and that a new language would, ere long, rise in these mixed communities. But English is the language of progress, and that tongue in which laws are written and courts conducted will in time become the ver- nacular of any new country. In no part of America is a purer English spoken. The native of Indiana finds, when settled beside the Yankee, that he must drop some of his " Hoosierisms ;" while the accent ar I idiom brought from "Down East" are insensibly modified, till the children of both compromise on the written language. Two hundred years ago when a man spoke in the British Parliament it was known on the instant what shire he represented; travel and civilization have since made the cultured Northumbrian and East Angle to be of one speech. No grammar of the " Hoosier " language has ever been published. Before it becomes extinct, as have so many dialects, it may be well for one who spoke it in his childhood to fix a few of its idioms. It abounds in negatives. Unlike English and Latin, an abundance of negatives is held to strengthen the sentence. " Don't know nothing " is com- mon. " See here," says the native, looking for work, to the farmt/, " you don't know o' nobody what don't want to hire nobody to do nothiu' nowhere around here, don't you?" "No," is the reply, "I don't." " I reckon " is a fair offset for the Yankee " I guess " — the one, as; commonly used, about as reasonable as the other. But it is on the verb to do that the " Hoosier " tongue is most effective. Here is the ordinary conjugation : Present Tense. — Regular, as in English. Imperfect Tense. — I done it, you done it, he done it. Plural — AVe 'uns done it, you 'uns done it, they 'uns done it. Perfect Tense. — I gone done it, you gone done it, he gone done it. Plural — We 'uns gone done it, you 'uns gone done it, they 'uns gone done it. Pluperfect. — I bin gone done it, you bin gone done it, etc. First Future. — I gwinc to do it, you gwine to do it, etc. Second Future. — I gwine to gone done it, etc. Plural — We 'uns gwine to gone done it, you 'uns gwine to gone done it, they 'uns gwine to gone done it. Philologically this language is the result of a union between the rude THE HAWKEYES. 19 translations of " Pennsylvania Dutch," the negroisms of Kentucky and Virginia, and certain phrases native to the Ohio Valley; and in my boyhood I often heard it verbatim as here given. The Iowa pioneers had developed a marked faculty for taking care of themselves, and making the non-resident owner of real estate help de- velop the country. Three-fourths of the taxation was laid upon land, chattels being almost exempt ; and, in the valuation, no distinction was made between slough and upland, vacant and imp^'oved. Villages, Y.-here there was much non-resident property, w^ere generally well im- proved; and the side-walks were always best before the non- I'isident's lots, direct taxation being in the same ratio. If he did r/ot come out and enjoy the promenade he had paid for, it was his own fault. The school laws of low^a are sur- prisingly liberal in this respect, allowing a school in every township or district where there are six children. The citizens have the right to organize a school district as they will, regardless of their number. One worthy in Wright County, finding himself, wife and seven chil- dren to be the only inhabitants of the township, forth- Avith called a school meeting, notices being posted ac- cording to law, elected himself director, fitted up one room in his dwelling for a school, and employed his the nox-resident oldest daughter to teach the other six children. Thus he gave character to the settlement, and raised the money to im- j rove his farm by simple compliance with the law. And do such a people require Congressional protection from the bond-holders and grasping monopolists of the East? Lit the end of a week's leisurely travel, I was eighty miles from the Mississippi, and the appearance of the country had greatly changed. There were vast tracts of unsettled prairie; timber had grown scarcer; cultivated farms were rare, and just as the space between them increased the people grew warmer in their welcome. I was now away from the -main line of emigration; and families in out-of-the-way places are 'nearly always hospitable. The chance traveler is as good as a newspaper, and is apt to be put to press on arrival. I soon learned to dread the wooded vales along the larger streams on account of the heat. To leave the high prairie for the "bottom" was like going from balmy May to sultry July. Regions where there is much wind are generally health- ful; but when the wind falls one is liable to fall with it. There are no .otter districts in the Union than Iowa and Minnesota during those very brief periods in summer when a dead calm prevails. Though I 20 ^ WESTERN WILDS. had started an invalid, every day's walk made it easy to walk a little farther the next; and at the end of the second week I easily made twenty miles a day. If a man would be cured by nature, he must trust her — be taken to her bosom, as it were. Many an invalid goes West for health, and imagines the climate has cured him, when, in truth, he has only forgotten his physic, and been charmed out of his cares, and taken to open air and abundant exercise. Iowa Falls, where the Iowa River leaves the "summit divide "prairies and plunges down a sei'ies of beautiful cascades to the level of the lower valley, was the location of the prettiest city on my route, and then the terminus of the Dubuque and Sioux City road. Thence I journeyed up Coon River and out to Wall Lake. To vi^it this place had been a dream of my boyhood. Twenty-five years ago it was represented as a marvelous work of the "mound builders." I found the "walls" there not so wonderful as described, but well worthy a visit; not the work of any prehistoric race, but due entirely to the expansive force of ice. In the vicinitv are at least a dozen lakes with the same formation — some even more curious than the one most noted. They are on the "divide," between the waters which flow northward into the Minne- sota and those which drain southward; and in all countries such a resiion abounds in lakes. The Iowa winters freeze the lakes almost solid, and the ice gathers up stones, pebbles and mud, and year after year pushes them toward the shore; then when the lake is full and frozen, it drives them with resistless energy into the "wall," till tlie latter looks like the most compact of man-made masonry. In some instances the water has cut a new outlet and drained the lake, and w'ithin a few years nature has begun the formation of a new wall inside the old one. Swans and wild geese abound in this region, which warmly invites the tourist, the scientist and tlie sportsman. AVestward again, and nothing but prairie to be seen ; an average of two or three families to the township, and half a day's travel at a time without sight of a house. The SAviftly running streams, Avith hard bot- toms and pebbly banks, disappear, and sluggish sloughs take their place. Down a long slope for six or eight miles, the road brings one at last to a slough, sometimes with current enough to be called a creek, along which is found a scattering growth of timber, and sometimes a few en- closed farms. Thence one rises by slow^ degrees to another divide, and again down a slope to the next creek and settlement, from ten to thirty miles from the last. But the wave of immigration was rolling in; the railroad had been located on this route, and now the line I traversed presents a constant succession of cultivated fields and tasty homes; a THE HAWKEYES. 21 region rich with orchards, white and red with clover-tops, or yellow with heavy-headed grain. Then there was but one railroad across the State; now there are four from the Mississippi to the J^Iissouri all stimulated by the completion of the Union Pacific. Then Iowa had one acre in seventeen under cultivation ; now she has one in ten, and a population of nearly two millions. With less waste land than any other State, except possibly Illinois, Iowa could sustain a population of fifteen millions, not merely in comfort, but in affluence. What American realizes the prospective greatness of that tier of States just west of the Mississippi? Minnesota has 30,000 square miles of wheat- producing soil; Iowa has more arable land than England; Missouri has more iron, coal, timber and water-power than Prussia ; Arkansas in extent and richness fairly rivals the Kingdom of Italy; and Louisiana, besides her sugar and cotton, runs two State governments, de- cides the presidential election, and has a heavy crop of statesmen to spare. The scarcity of timber through this section had stimulated the inven- tion of substitutes. The chief novelty was wire fence, usually made by fastening three wires on a row of posts with slip cleats. This was only to turn cat- tle; but a flmcy article was made with six strands, which rendered it in local parlance " horse-high, bull- strong and pig- tight." Most of the counties thought it cheaper to forbid pigs run- ning at large. In Missouri and the timbered portions of the border States, I heard this statute denounced in much the same terms as the prohibitory liquor law— "an invasion of our liberties, sir!" Further north 'populai sentiment was expressed in the pithy saying: "A man's a hog that '11 let a hog run." Iowa, by an overwhelming majoritv, had equally prohibited errant hogs and free whisky. Minnesota, when I resided there in 1859, still held many of the traditions of Maine, whence most of the pioneers had come, and had equally condemned the sale of intoxicants. But western manners proved too strong for both States, "OUK LIBEKTIES, SIK 22 WESTERN WILDS. for in the larger towns at least the traffic was, and is, open and unrestricted. Drawing near the Missouri I found the country rising into long ridges and abrupt swells of land, the sloughs disappearing for the most part^ and clear streams again taking their place. The grasshoppers had come in to desolate the few settlements, and for two days' travel I heard little but complaints and forebodings. Their method that season was peculiar. They traveled along a defined track, generally not more than a mile wide ; but over that area they covered the ground, while the air seemed full of white specks, the creatures flying as high as one could see. Before them were green prairies, fields rich in clover, corn and wheat; behind them blackness, desolation and mourning. But while I studied them a strong wind sprang up from the east, and in a few hours they disappeared and were seen no more ; not, however, until they had destroyed about half the crops in three counties. Whence come they, and whither do they go? Science and unlearned conjecture seem equally at fault. It is certain that they can only breed on high and dry ridges and plains, and a wet season is fatal to them. An old and abandoned road is their favorite hatching ground. For the most part they confine their ravages to the border, but occasionally they sweep in destructive columns far down toward the Mississippi. A few years later I was destined to have an unpi-ofitable experience with them in Kansas, after the State had been free from them seven years, and the least hopeful believed that their day had passed forever. From this region I turned south-west, and the last of June crossed the Missouri to the metropolis of Nebraska. Omaha was then the city of promise. Whether that promise has been fulfilled is a matter of doubt with many who were then sanguine. The rivalry with Council Bluffs, on the Iowa side, was intense and amusing. On the west bank, one heard contemptuous allusions to " the Bluffs," " East Omaha," and " Milkville." On the other side there were withering sarcasms about "Bilkville," "Traintown," "Omahawgs," "Omahens," and "The U. P. Station across the river." The editors on one side, according to their statements, made their "libelous contemporaries" on the other "squirm" almost daily. To the stranger, who had no possessions in either place, it was a free comedy. The " Omahawgs," with cheerful disregard of grammar, spoke of their city as the "initial terminus" (in English, "beginning-end") of the Union Pacific Railroad, and future entrepot of the California, China and Australia trade. It did look reasonable that they should build up a great city, and cheering proph- ecies were abundant. Somehow thev have been slow of fulfillment. A THE HAW KE YES. 23 careful census by the city authorities made the population 19,000. The next year they modestly estimated it in round numbers at 25,000; and the next came a great epidemic (of United States officials) and swept off half the number, for the United States census of 1870 credits Omaha with less than 13,000 inhabitants. The city is cosmopolitan. First Street is located in the river (at high water), and the first seven streets are supposed to be on the sandbar. The city begins at Eighth Street, and the location of the fashionables is from Eighteenth to Twenty-fifth Streets, on Capitol Hill. Such are the pleasing self-delu- sions of the expanding mind in the glorious free and boundless AVest. It was the notable hot season in Nebraska, and a week in the metrop- olis satisfied me. Thence I sought the country by way of the old Cali- fornia trail, and traveled a month in rural Nebraska — first in the valley of the Papilion (which the people persist in calling Pappeo), and thence to Fontanelle and up the Elkhorn through what is considered the gar- den spot of Northern Nebraska. It is a region rich in natural wealth, and was even then so handsomely improved that travel through it was a constant delight. There were miles of corn-fields, with heavy crops, and tracts of wheat just ready for harvesting, farm products of all kinds in abundance, and plenty blessing the industrious farmer. Planted timber of nearly all kinds grows rapidly, cottonwood and locust es- pecially; nearly every settler has an artificial grove, and these are abundant enough to greatly beautify the landscape. The soil is deep and rich, the country gently rolling, high, dry and healthful. The wheat through that region averaged tM'cnty-five bushels per acre that year. For the width of the State north and south, and a hundred and fifty miles back from the Missouri, almost every acre is adapted for the production of grain. Thirty thousand square miles of land give abun- dant room for an agricultural population of a million. West of the area I have thus bounded, the land rises more into the barren ridges ; only the valleys are very fertile, and most of the country is valuable only for grazing. Society is well organized; churches and' schools have been handsomely provided for; vacant land in the fertile section is still abundant and cheap, and if one is native to any latitude north of 36°, Nebraska offers him first-class inducements. The Indian still lingered. The Pawnees were the local aborigines, but Omahas (properly Mahaws) and Otoes were common, all three be- ing among the most unprepossessing of the race. Long observation has convinced me that those tribes which fringe the white settle- ments, hanging between civilization and barbarism, always include the meanest looking specimens. Of course, I except the civilized res- 24 WESTERN WILDS. idents of the Indian Territory. Cooper's Indians are extinct, but the " noble red man," in a certain sense, does exist, and I have seen him. But not near the settlements. One must go far into the interior, Avhere they are the style and he the oddity, to see really interesting In- dians. How inferior are the Pawnees to the Sioux, the Kaws to the Utes, the Osages and Otoes to the Navajoes! A few tribes may pass successfully across the awful gulf between savage life and civilized, but there is a fearful waste of raw material in the process. IVIy travels in Nebraska drew near a close, and I stood at evening of a beauti- ful summer day, upon a lofty hill that overlooked the fertile Platte Valley. Southward the scene was bounded by the heavy timber lining that stream; east- ward I looked over a landscape rich in natural and artificial beauty to the for- ests on the Missouri ; northward the winding Elkhorn could be traced many a mile by the tasteful groves which adorn its bluffs, while westward the view was free to the meeting of earth and sky. That way lay adventure and novel scenes ; that way I was mightily drawn. The haze of evening softened the outlines of a beautiful landscape ; from the eastward came the rumble and smoke of a Union Pacific train dashing out for Cheyenne, while westward up the valley a vagrant party of Pawnees were fast pressing out of sight. The scene was an emblem of progress. I breathed the spirit of border- land poetry. The Bedouin instinct stirred within me, and I burned to hasten my departure to that newer West, which ah'cady made this region seem old. But before I enter on the long detail of my Western wan- derings, let me briefly sketch the labors and perils of a '49-er, who passed that way nineteen years before me. ■ CIVILIZKL). CHAPTER II. A WESTEEN CHARACTER. Unconscious greatness is a Western product. There many a man, in pursuance of the humblest duties, becomes a hero without knowing it. One such let me celebrate. A most modest hero, he had seen the world without intending it; had lived a romance in the mere earning of a livelihood, and grown great in simple-hearted obedience to family affection. In the autumn of 1873 I made a leisurely journey through the new counties of southern Kansas. The Osage Ceded Lands, which only five years before had been a game preserve for vagrant aborigines, were now dotted with neat villages flanked by well cultivated farms. From the summit of a lofty mound in Montgomery County one could look over 500 square miles of rolling prairie and fertile valley, the home of 20,000 Americans. Westward the land rose more into barren ridges, beyond which were the fertile slopes of Cowley County and the new country on the Arkansas. Between was a region almost unsettled ; the rocky ridges were fit only for pasturage, and the narrow valleys were neg- lected till better places should be filled. There one might ride for hours without sight of a dwelling, fortunate at night if a settler's cabin furnished him shelter in a room common to all the family. At the close of a September day I had ridden ten miles without sight of a house, and eagerly scanned the horizon. A horseman from the opposite direction hailed me with equal eagerness to learn the distance to Elk Falls, his first chance for the night. On learning that it was ten miles, he indulged in a prolonged whistle, and in turn informed me he knew of no house on this road for fifteen miles. " But," he added, reflect- ively, "ther's old Darnells, only a mile off the road, down Grouse Creek. They'll keep you if you're a mind to stop there. They've got plenty, too, such as it is, and the old woman's a prime cook, and '11 set it 'fore you warm and clean. The old man's the wust shuck up settler on the creek, what with rheumatiz and ager and the swamps and one thing an' another ; but git him stirred up and he's a powerfiil talker. Heap o' life in him yet." So I went to Darnells. (25) 26 WESTERN WILDS. The first show was not inviting. A rambling, double-log house of the South-western pattern — practically two cabins under one roof, with a broad covered passage between. But many a pleasant night have I passed, and eaten many savory meal, in those same double-log cabins; and in the long hot days of summer, south of latitude 40°, I know of no better place to loll away the delightful after-dinner hour than in the open passage aforesaid. INIy host was indeed "shuck up," "doubled up," too, I should say. "Fcvcrnagcr," Arkansas swamps, and prairie sloughs had done their appointed work on him, and he was that perfect wreck, a "thoroughly acclimated man." He was, in local phrase, "yaller behind the gills;" his face was of a pale orange tint, his cheeks a dirty saifron, while along the neck his skin resembled a ripe pumpkin speckled with coffee grounds. He re- ceived me with dignified wel- come — in these M'ilds no question is made as to lodging the be- lated traveler — and referred the matter of supper to "the old wo- man." One glance at her revealed the Cherokee 1 i n e- age. The deep, dark eye with slightly melan- choly cast, the straight black hair, and nose just aquiline enough to give piquancy to the countenance, indicated the quarter-blood ; while her air and bear- ing gave a hint of Ross or Boudinot stock — the aristocracy of that most aristocratic of all our aboriginal races. The supper was a surprise. She had evidently learned cooking in better schools than south-western cabins supply. Like him, she seemed preternaturally quiet, as if ab- sorbed in thought; they lived in the past, and to them Kansas was not the home of the soul. New countries should be settled only by the young, for the tree of deepest root bears transplanting but poorly. " THOROUGHLY ACCLIMATED." A WESTERN CHARACTER. TI The broad, red sun was just dipping into the prairie horizon, when a gray haze overspread the kindscape, creeping up from the sluggish stream. The okl man waved his hand toward it with the brief but expressive phrase, "break-bone fever," and we retired to the cabin and evening fire. As we filled and lighted the inevitable cob pipe, com- mon in the South-west, I spoke of Andrew Jackson's love of the same, and his Tennessee habits, whereat my host broke out with sudden ani- mation : "Ah, you're from Tennessee, a'nt you?" "Not exactly," was my reply, "but I know and like the State." " Well, I was raised there, right on the banks of the Tennessee, but I was born just over the line in Alabama. Yes, sir, sixty-four years ago, in Glen Cove, I tuck my first view of life. Nicest climate in this world, sir, and bad as I've seen it tore up since, I don't want no better country." "But how came you to leave, if it was so good a country?" "Well, a good many things happened; sort o' riled the current and spiled me for a steady life, though I'm pretty well anchored now, for a fact;" and glancing at his distorted limbs, he relapsed into speechless- ness, puffing at his cob pipe, and waiting, Indian fashion, for the talk to break out naturally. Hot youth was more impatient of time, and I asked : "If no offense, what caused you to leave that country for this?" "Well, I did'nt leave there for here; that would be too big a change. They was many haps and mishaps between. It happened along o^ family matters and the war. You see they was five brothers of us and one sister, me the oldest; and mammy sort o' give the rest in my charge. Poor mammy, she never seed any of us old enough to be sure of." "But how about your father?" "AYell, daddy was a little onsettled; along o' trips down into the Cherokee country and tradin with the Injins — in fact he let his little finger ride his thumb too often, and his eyesight weakened on it." This was a delicate allusion to his father's intemperance, given in the figurative language of the South-west. "Fact, he took me down among the Injins in Geawjay and North Alabama one trip — fine country that, too ; altogether too fine for the Injins to keep if the whites wanted it — but daddy went off at last, and that was the how of my first trip. He went off on a broad-horn. You don't know what a broad-horn is. No? Well, it's a flat-boat of the old rig ; and the men come back without him. Them days they com- 28 WESTERN WILDS. monly walked back from Xoo Orlcens thro' the Injin fomitry. All they said was he had lost all his money, and swore he'd never come back till he could come full-handed. Mammy was ailin' then, and after that she never seemed to pick up any ; and the day I was sixteen she called me close to the bed and she said: 'Willy, you go find him, and bring him back, for when he dies he'll never be easy 'cept beside me,' and then she laid on me the charge of all the other five — and, stranger, I can't somehow talk about that time, but just a week after they was only me and Myra and the four little boys left. I tell you it was a sad time. I've only seen one worse and that was in the war. " I hadn't time to cry much, for I had a family on my hands and mighty little to go on except the place. We all worked and made a crop, and then I fixed things up a little, and got a neighbor to take the place — mighty nice people they was then in old Tennessee — and I started to find dad." " AVhat ! went to find your father at that age ? " "Yes," said the old man simply, " mammy had said so, and of course it had to be done. Daddy had been gone a year, when I took a broad-horn to Xoo Orleens, and when I was paid off on the levee, I was the worst lost man you ever did see. In the middle of the thickest woods in the world wasn't a circumstance to it. Suc^h crowds and crowds of people, and ships and boats and stores, and men all rushing here and yandcr, enough to distract you. Why, they wan't more'n one man in four understood a word I said. In all my life I'd never heard of any language but wliite-man and Injin, and there was I'ortagee. Mexican, Gumbo, French and Coaster, talkin' every thing, and all mixed up. ]\Iy head was a swimmin — just off' the boat, you know — and sometimes I half reckoned I'd walked right out o' the Ark and into the brick-yard at the Tower o' Babel ; for I'd read o' that anyhow, and might a' known how things would be in Xoo Or- leens if I'd a thought. But says I to myself, no time to cry now ; I'm here. So I went about asking every man that understood me if he'd seed a man named Hiram Darnell. Well, some of 'em cussed me, and most paid no attention to me; but bimeby one chap says: ' Oh, yes, I know Mr. Darnell ; he's up on Chapitooley Street a chawin' rags for a paper mill.' And another said : ' He was at the pipe- works, and they was trainin' him to go through a drain-pipe,' and all such stuff". "Well, I was that green I hunted the pipe-works, and there they sent me to a leather store to buy 'straj)-oil,' and told me a lot more stuff*. Then I walked all over the city, miles an' miles an' miles, A WESTERN CHARACTER. 29 I HUNTED THE I'lPK- WOKKS." lookin' close at every body I seed, an' it seemed to me I seed every body but dad. In less'n a month all my money -vvas gone, an' I felt awful streaked. But I lit on another feller who told me the risht track, and we did find out where dad had worked _____ a while ; but he was gone, and finally the police said he wan't in Xoo Orleens now. So I went to work on the levee a while haulin' and pitch in', but it was awful hot then. A feller's shadder at noon was right 'tween his feet, and 'fore long I struck an ole pard o' dads, and found he'd gone away up Red River, in the new country. So I ^>, went deck-hand on a boat up Red River, and they was nothing like so many folks up there, an' people more civil ; an' I traced him all through Arkan- saw toward the Injin country. But it took a might of time. Sometimes I worked and some- times I walked, and at last got where there was no houses hardly, and many a time I was alone all day in the woods, and more'n once nearly lost in the big swamps. At last I got into a more open country and some new settlements about Fort Smith, and then I fell in with some Cher- okees, and sure enough they knowed dad. '' You see, a lot o' Cherokees moved out there away back before Jackson come in first time, and dad had his old liking for the tribe, and had fell in with them, and away up in the timber I found him at last. But, law, how he was changed ! He come out of a cabin and looked at me as if I was a stranger. AVhat with hot weather and whisky and the trouble and yaller fever, he wasn't just clear in his mind, and what to do I didn't know. But I'd learnt something by that time, so I watched around and got him fixed up a little, and with a good family, an' I went to work again. The Cherokees was fixin' up considerably, an' I made a pretty good job at rough carpentering; and there I worked a whole year." " You must have been rather home-sick by that time." " Well, I was a little anxious about the boys. Myra was nearly fifteen when I left; then come Joe, thirteen; him I played with, an' had more to do with than any of the boys. Many's the hour we've fished an' hunted along the Tennessee. Poor Joe! I've seen the time since when I wished he was a boy agin, but," with a sud- den burst of triumph, "I stuck by him to the last, as I'd promised mammy." 30 WESTERN WILDS. Here the old man fell into such a protracted reverie, that I ven- tured to recall him to the Arkansas and his father. /'Oh, yes, I clean forgot. Well, in a year dad was so mneli better that Ave started home, takin' a job on another boat to Xoo Orleens to shorten up the walk a little." The calm way in which he spoke of shortening i\\Q Avalk from Fort Gibson to East Tennessee, was wonderfully suggestive. If it had been around the world, he would have entered on it with the same reso- lution, as something that was not to be talked about, but done. " \yhen we got to Noo Orleens and got paid off, we fixed up with some clean clothes, lookin' real human again, and started home. But it seemed like every thing was agin us. The trail then led away from the river, and sort o' north and east, nearly straight toward the l)end o' the Tennessee. We worried along with heat, for it was late, till Ave struck the edge of the Injun country, wliere we found every tiling all tore up. I never got the hang of it exactly ; but the States was a pressin' the Injins to go, an' some wanted to an' some didn't; and the Choctaws they was a fussin' with their agents, an' the Cherokees a flghtin' with one another, an' there was murder an' robbery an' horse- stealin' all over the country, an' their light-horse companies out arrcstin' every body that passed on the roads. How I got along I don't know. Every time I laid down in an Injun cabin it seemed to me I'd have my throat cut 'fore mornin' ; but dad talked the lingo like a born Injin, so they couldn't come no tricks in our hcarin', an' every night I dreamed I saw mammy, an' she looked kind o' glad, an' th(iugh she said nothin', her looks meant plain enough : ' Don't cry, Willy, you'll get home all right.' " But when we got to the Cherokee country it was worst of all. They was two parties in the tribe, Hossites and Ridgites, and just then the Rossites got up an' murdered a chief named Mcintosh an' a lot of other Ridgitcs, an' swore that every Injun that said 'go' should be served the same way. They stopped us, an' wouldn't let us go through at all. They pow- wowed around with us for two months; then come along some that knowed Daddy, an' they said he should go or they'd have blood. So it was settled that I was to stay an' him go on, an' if it proved we was all right, I was to be let go in so long a time. When the time come they turned me loose, an' I started north on the first road I struck. But I was powerfully out o' conceit with the redskins, an' the first tAvo nights I slept out. "It was then September, an' the next day, Avhcn I thought I was near the Tennessee, all at once I took so cold I seemed like I'd chill to A WESTERN CHARACTER. 31 death, an' pretty soon so hot that I stopped at a spring an' drunk an' drunk till I staggered 'round like I had a load of whisky on. An' when night come on, I kept gettin' up an' layin' down first one place an' then another, an' then huntin' water an' tryin' to get into a house that was right afore me, an' yet I couldn't somehow locate it. All at once I come on Joe, an' I cried like a child, an' begged him to take me in an' give me a drink. It 'pearcd like Joe was scared of me, an' run, an' I run an' called to him all night thro' the woods. Then it come on to rain, an' I got doAvn by a tree, an' it seemed like Joe was jist t'other side of the tree, an' wouldn't come an' help me. So I got up an' staggered on, an' all at once I was at myself, settin' at the foot of another tree, an' somebody was callin' thro' the woods for milk cows. And when the voice come near me I set doAvn an' cried, for it made me think o' Mammy and Myra — it was so soft an' sweet. Then a girl come up, and I tried to speak, but shivered an' shook that bad I couldn't say a word. But how pretty that little white Cherokee looked ! Stranger, you have no idee. No woman you ever see could ekal her." I was about to demur to this, when the fire blazed up brightly, and I glanced across the hearth at the "old woman;" and— was it fancy? or did the lines in the poor, worn old face seem to fade away, and a trem- ulous softness steal into the dark eyes? I suspended criticism, and after a brief reverie my host continued: " Well, I sunk down agin, an' the next I recollect I was in a cabin, an' an old conjurer was pow-wowing over me. She was the blackest, grizzliest old Cherokee I ever seed ; an' as she muttered some heathen stuff, an' rattled a little bell, she sometimes went to the door and stroked her face and kissed her hand to the sun, an' somehow I got the idee she was the same as the pretty little girl that found me, an' the notion of the change made me cry agin. The next ten days I don't know much about, only they had a regular doctor once or twice ; an' all at once I woke one clear morning, an' there set the pretty little Cherokee, an' my head was all right agin. "But law, stranger, I was that weak! They was white Cherokees that picked me up— the man a Scotchman, married to a half-blood woman, and some of the best folks I ever struck. It Avas weeks be- fore I could Avalk a quarter ; then I got strong pretty fast, and bimeby along came dad huntin' for me. An' that girl — well, I reckon she spared nothin' that cabin could aiford to help me get well. She used to sing the Cherokee songs, and her mother Avould tell all about the travels and troubles of the tribe from the time they left the Yemas- 32 WESTERN WILDS. see. in Carolina, till now. And when I was able to go it seemod like a dream — as if I hadn't been there a week. It was over two yeais I'd been gone, but every thing was right at home. After that I had business every two or three months down in the Cherokee Nation, an' all at once the troubles started up again. The rights of it I no more understood than I did the other trouble, only tiiat Jackson had come in President, and took the part of Geawgey and Alabama agin the Injins, an' swore they'd got to go anyhow, an' then they quar- reled among themselves agin. Then her flithcr died — the little white Cherokee I mean — and her mother was all put out about the troubles, but finally said she must go with her people, and claim her head- rights on the land where they was to settle. Then I spoke to the little girl — well, to make a long story short, I've tried for thirty years to pay up, but I'm still in her debt, an' to me she's just as pretty as she was the mornin' she found me in the woods." And now I Avas sure it was no fancy, for the "old woman" had crossed the hearth and taken the gray head in her hands; the sad, dark eye v/as again lighted with the gleam of youthful love, the wrinkles gave place to smiles, and the worn face was transformed into something far beyond the beautiful. It was divine. "So your troubles ended in joy at last," said I. "Yes, I reckon you may say so;" then, with his pipe relighted, he puifed away in silence. He had acquired one habit of his stolid Indian friends — the habit of having fits of silence, waiting on the stim- ulus of smoke. Two lads of sixteen or seventeen years came in with the proceeds of a day's hunt. "Our grandsons," said the hostess, in a half-apologetic tone, "and about all the dependence we've got now." This was her first and last observation, and we seemed in a fair way to smoke the evening away in silence, when one of the young men threw a fresh knot on the fire. It bluzed up brightly, and, with In- dian suddenness, the old man broke out again : " It was a bad thing, a bad, mean thing, the way them people was rooted out. Just think of a whole people, sixteen or eighteen thou- sand, lots of 'em with good farms, an' houses, an' shops, an' startin' schools an' newspapers, havin' to pull up whether or no, with soldiers to prod them along with bayonets, an' go away off to a country they didn't like, an' M'here lots an' lots of 'em died ! Well, that's what they done." "You mean the Cherokees." " Yes, my wife's folks all went with 'em. So we bought a place of A WESTERN CHARACTER. 33 a Cherokee that was leaving, an' worked it five years, an' got every thing fixed beautiful, with lots of stock and grain. But it seemed like they was no luck in that cussed country ; anyhow, I was turned out bag an' baggage." "Turned out! How? Did you lose your land?" " Well, yes ; it amounted to that finally." He seemed desirous of giving the story, and yet was reluctant to begin. " But how did it happen ? " I persisted. " Well, stranger, I never just got the right of it, an' for a long time I never liked to think of it, for I always got mad an' swore under my breath, an' it worried the old woman, an' made me lose sleep, an' so I've pretty much quit thinkin' about it. You see when the Injins left, there was a deal of swindlin'. Most of 'em was ignorant, an' some signed away their land when drunk, an' a few rascally Injins traveled 'round with the speculators, signin' away others' rights, an' swearin' they was the ones. A man just come up one day with a deed to my land, an' the court pow-wowed awhile about it and said it was his'n, an' I just had to clear." " But you had your stock." "Well, no, not exactly. You see I lawed him awhile, an' the court made me pay for that, an' my lawyer cost something; an' the height of it was, when the thing was done I just put my wife on the only boss we had left, with a little one behind her, an' the baby in her arms, an' me an' the oldest boy walked, an' we went back to Ten- nessee." "And began again without a cent !" " Well, not that exactly. I raised some money in a year or two. But somehow it didn't seem the old thing to me there, an' so we come over west of the mountains, an' got a little piece of land in Coffee County, an' that was our home tl^l we come out here. After all we've got along, an' I've never been in jail but once." " In jail ! Why you never committed any crime?" " No, but come mighty nigh it once — near enough to be took up an' mighty nigh hung for it. But that was out in Iowa." " So you did take another trip, after all." " Yes ; it was along o' the boys, specially brother Joe — him that 1 always sot most store by. Joe married young — married an Irish girl in the neighborhood, though all of us opposed it. I could see she had temper ; but every feller's got to take his chances on that, anyhow. You know how that is." 3 34 WESTERN WILDS. "No, I can't say as I do. But how did he get along?" " Well, there was trouble. An' binieby I persuaded Joe if they'd get aAvay from both their folks it would be better; so he went to In- jeanny, and then to Illinoy, Well, it seems like when folks get started that way they keep goin' and goin'. One place is too hot and another too cold, an' here its sickly an' there they's bad neighbors, and so on. Leastways it was that way with Joe, and finally he landed in the Half- breed Tract in Iowa. At first he could not say enough in praise of the country. Joe was a great scholar; he could write like a school- master, an' cipher as fast as he could make the figures; but my wife had to read the letters an' answer for me. All at once we got no more letters for two or three years, and then come one with just a few lines, an' it wound up : ' I've writ so often an' got no answer, I'm discour- aged, but I'll try once more. Come an' see old Joe before he dies !' " Nothin' could a' stopped me after that. I fixed up every thing snug about home, an' got Ben, my youngest brother, to stay while I was gone, an' run down the Tennessee an' up the Mississip to St. Louis. Then I conceited I might need all my money, so I took a job on another boat to Nauvoo, where I landed all right, but soon found I'd run right into the trouble. " It was the year after the Mormon prophet was killed, an' the whole country was up a boomin'. I only knowed Joe lived back in the country somewhere on the other side, an' when I asked about roads they looked at me like I was a pirate. I had to give account of my- self half a dozen times 'fore I got out of town, an' then like enough when I'd step oif I'd overhear some feller say, ' D — n him, he's one of 'em, and a spy at that.' Over the river it was jist as bad. Every body was afraid of every body else they didn't know. If I went nigh a house when the men was out, liker'n not the woman 'd bolt the door an' set a dog on me, or run out toward the fields and holler for the men. Every body carried a gun, or a club, or a knife, an' I never seed so many big an' savage dogs — one or two at every house ; an' they looked jist as snappy an' suspicious as the people, an' watched round close an' stuck by the women whenever a stranger come along. One man I asked a civil question about the road, an' he only grinned an' said, ^Your safest road's back towards Nauvoo; they hang horse thieves over here.' An' that night where I stopped they stood with the door open about an inch, an' made me answer a hundred questions 'fore they'd let me in. Lord, such a catekismcn I was put through! — an' didn't half want to let me in then. It was jist the Cherokee coun- A WESTERN CHAR AC TEH. S5 try over agin, an' they might as well a been at war for any comfort they took. "But next day I found Joe's, and it was the poorest, meanest house on the Tract. I walked in, an' what do you think I seed? Thar was my dear Joe sittin' all bent up, an' poor an' thin, an' lookin', though not over forty, like a man o' sixty. He'd rastled with ager an' rooni- atiz time about till nothin' w^as left for any sickness to tack on to, an' all the while that Irish wife o' his tormentin' him to death. When I saw him I never said a word — I couldn't — but I jist took him in my arras, an' for the first time in all my troubles I broke down an' cried ! It done Joe no end o' good to see me, but it wa'nt for long. She soon spilt our comfort. She was a spitfire when he married her, an' you un- derstand age an' bad luck hadn't improved her any — what with bein' out among such rough people, losin' her children, an' livin' in a cabin with a sick man, an' mighty little to go on, for they was poor as the low-wines o' pond-water." Only the western traveler who has been compelled to suck up moi^- ure from a prairie slough, or lie down and drink out of a wagon track, can appreciate the force of this simile. It is scarcely possible to con- ceive of a more unsatisfactory drink. " She could swear like an ox-driver, an' when she took a tantrum every thing was ammunition that come to her hand — the poker or an old skil- let-handle, it was all one to her. But I stood her off, and was gettin' Joe cheered up right smart, w^hen one mornin' I was everlastingly took back by seein' a crowd of men with guns comin' up to the gate. 'What does them men want?' sez I. 'You, like enough,' sez she, snap- pin'-turtle style. An', sure enough, it was me. They snatched me right out of the house, with- out a word o' why, an' I thought my time had come. They was all sorts o' talk about an aw- ful murder, an' two or three o' the lot Avas hot to hang me up. But the captain said, ' No ; ev- ery fellar should have a fair trial — Mormon or old settler, it was all the same.' They took me down to a camp in the Moods, where they was more'n a hundred men, some comin' and goin' all the time, an' nearly all drinkin', and the drunker they got the more dangered I felt. One chap stuck his face nearly agin mine, an' sez he, 'Didn't vou help kill Miller and Liecy?' 'No,' sez I. 'Didn't you come MRS. JOE'S " TANTRUMS. 36 WESTERN WILDS. sneakin' along the brush road from Nauvoo t'other day, then ?' says he. ' No/ sez I, and was goin' on to explain, when he yells out, ' You're a d — d lying Mormon, an' I've a mind to shoot the guts out o' you,' 'an the captain stopped him. I noticed the captain didn't touch the whisky, an' that hoped me a good deal. " They took me an' five others to a big house, an' kept us all day an' night, an' then I heard what it was all about. An' no wonder the peo- ple Avas excited. It sheered me jist to hear it. It was at the only house I'd stopped at on the way where the folks was easy an' civil like. They was a Dutchman named Miller and his son-in-law Liecy lived there; an' they was jist from some old civil country place in Penn- sylvany, or some'rs back there, where nobody's afraid or locks their doors at night ; an' these men had come on the Tract to buy land. It was talked round that the old man had five thousand dollars in a trunk, an' a job was put up by some fellers in Nauvoo. They spied 'round a day or two, an' one night three men busted in the door an' fell to shootin' an' cuttin' every thing they come to. The whole house was dashed with blood. The old man fit like a tiger. He was a Dunkard preacher, an' as stout as an ox, an' I mind well it was told 'round for a fact that he nearly kilk^d one o' the men jist with his naked fists; an' when they run a long butcher-knife into his breast, he was so big it didn't go half way tlirough, an' he whipped 'em oif an' fell dead in the yard! What with the old man's fightin', and the women scrcamin', an' the dogs a barkin', the fellers Avas skeered off an' never got a cent o' the money. Then a neighbor galloped to Montrose, a town nigh there, an' raised the yell, an' in a little while the Hawkeyes, as they called theirselves, was out, an' that day they sarched every corner in the county. It was the rougliest time for strangers you ever read of. If you ever seed a lot o' cattle bellerin' 'round where one had been shot, you've an idee. " They was some that even proposed to hang all of us to be sure an catch the right one ; an' what made it worse we was as much skeered of each other as we was of the Hawkeyes. But they was one man named Bird in our lot wlio cheered us up a good deal ; an' pretty soon they got on the right trail, an' it led straight to Nauvoo ; but the ]\Ior- mons wouldn't give the fellers up. Then the sheriff took a wliole boat load of men to Nauvoo, an' they had a big meetin', an' threatened war, but finally he got the men he had writs for, an' got 'em in jail; but the sheriff had his doubts, an' set up a game on 'em. They was two brothers named Hodges, an' he took four men of about their build, an' set 'em altogether, an' had Liecy, who lived some daj^s, A WESTERN CHARACTER. 37 carried in to look at 'era. The Hawkeyes had us along, for they was bound to catch somebody ; an' it was the solemuest time I ever seed. The two Hodges was as cool as cowcumbers, but the other four men was skeered nearly to death. Liecy took a long look, an' then pinted his finger at the Hodges, an' says he : ' There's the man that shot mo, an' there's the man that knifed me ! ' "And that settled their hash. So we was all turned loose, an' Bird an' me made tracks for Joe's. When we got nigh the house, we heard an awful racket, an' run in, an' she had Joe down beatin' him with his own crutch. They'd had another row, an' she'd sort o' got the best of it. I snatched the weepin' outen her hand ; then she swore at us, an' lit out on the road with a partin' blessin', an' that's the last we ever seed o"' her." "Bolted, did she?" " Rather that way, stranger. But what do you think that woman done? Went straight to Montrose, an' swore to my havin' bogus money, an' the very next day they put me in jail — socked me right in with them two Hodges — an' I never felt so mean an' streaked in all my life. I had no Icarnin' 'cept to read a little, an' that was the first I ever felt bad about it. One of the sheriif' s men, Hawkins Tayh)r, was real kind, an' got me some things an' a lot o' copies set. I put my whole head to it, an' in jest three weeks, sir, I wrote a nice letter to the old woman — didn't tell her where I boarded, though — an' then I felt easier. If it hadn't been for that, I'd 'agone crazy, shut up so with them Hodges. I've seen 'em more'n once since, in my sleep. They swore an' sung an' joked an' held up pretty stiff— they had an idee their friends in Nauvoo would take 'em out — but bimeby their brother there was found one morning with his throat cut, jist after he'd seen the head Mormons an' raised a row with 'em about givin' up these two ; an' then they sort o' lost hope. It was no go. Iowa was up then, an' the Mormons might as well a'tried to take 'em from Gineral Jack- son's army. I was turned loose finally, the day before they was hung. "They was people come a hundred miles to see it, an' camped out in wagons. They had so little fun on the Tract, it was a great treat to see somebody hung. Joe an' me was there, an' that's the first an' last sight of that kind I ever took. I've seen plenty killed, but not that way. We sold Joe's place, an' got him home, an' he picked up mightily in old Tennessee. For an East Tennessee man no other place is as good as the mountains. Only place I've seed to compare vith it was in Californy." "What! Have you been to California, too?" 38 WESTERN WILDS. " Took a little trip out there." " Little trip ! It is considered a pretty big one. Did you go for gold ? " " Sonie'at, but more on account o' the boys." " Your brothers again?" " No, my own boys. You might say I went to keep them from goin', for I suspicioned it was all foolishness, from the start. I reckon you don't remember the big excitement. No? Well, it swept all Tennessee like a fire in prairie grass. I first heard it one day at Man- chester, when the Whigs had a pole-raisin' along o' the election o' old Zach Taylor, an' a man jist from Noo York spoke, an' said old Zach had conquered for us a country with more gold in it than any nation on earth had. Pretty soon the news come thick. They said men just dug gold out o' the rocks — thousands in a day. You ought to heard the stories that was told for solemn facts. One man said a feller dug out one lump worth eight hundred thousand dollars, an' as he set on it, a feller come by with a plate o' pork an' beans, an' he oifered him fifty thousand for it, an' the feller stood him off for sev- enty-five thousand. It was in the Nashville paper, an' so every body in our parts believed it. "Then every loose-footed man wanted to go. Some jist thro wed down their tools an' started ; an' some men that was tied with families, actually set down an' cried 'cause they couldn't go. My boys was as crazy as the rest. But they was only sixteen an' eighteen, an' I seed it wouldn't do. So I said : ' Boys, let me go, an' I'll let you know in time,' an' then I bound 'em to take care o' their mother till I sent for 'em. It would a' been ruination for them young innocent boys to go off with such a lot o' men. Jest as soon as the Tennessee was up so boats could run over Muscle Shoals, a company of forty of us shipped teams an' started, an' landed at Independence, Missouri, the last o' March. The whole country was under water, but our fellers was crazy to git on ; so they hitched up and started right across the Kaw an' into the Delawares' country. But it was all foolishness to start so early. Accident after accident we had. The mud was thicker an' stickier every day, an' all the creeks was up ; but the men kept up a hoopin' an' swearin', an' often had to double teams, an' sometimes we'd stick an' pull out two or three wagon tongues 'fore we'd get through. I never seed men so crazy to git on. They whipped an' yelled, an' wouldn't listen to reason. They was plenty started three weeks after us, an' passed us on the road. An' what was strange, the trains that laid by an' kept Sunday, got to Californy first. You wouldn't believe it, but I've heard hundreds say the same thing. A WESTERN CHARACTER. 3j " Bimeby we got righted up an' on dryer ground, an' went on after killin' two or three hosses an' leavin' one wagon. The trains got strung out all along the trail, so we had grass an' game plenty along up the Blue River an' over to the Platte. There we struck the Mor- mon emigration an' all the Californy trains that went that way. Tlie whole country was et out, an' the Injins threatened, an' the men got to quarrelin'. I tell you it takes a mighty good set o' men to travel together three thousand miles an' not fuss. Sometimes it was Whig and Democrat, an' then it was Tennessee agin Geawgey. I tell you when men are tired an' dirty they'll quarrel about any thing. About half a dozen swore Californy was all humbug, an' turned back, an' at Laramie Forks the company split into two. At South Pass our half split agin, an' ten of us went oif with a company to go the new route, south of the Salt Lake. We got to the Mormon City all beat out, an' more'n half a mind not to go a mile further. Plenty got there in worse humor than us. Some had split up till it Avas each man for him- self, an' some actually divided wagons, an' made two carts out o' one, or finished the trip on hosses. We took a rest, an' traded every thing with the Mormons, givin' two of our hosses for one fresh one, an' finally got off in pretty good shape agin. " But all we'd seed was nothin' to the country from there on. Rocks an' mountains an' sand; an' sand, an' rocks an' mountains — miles on miles of it. Sometimes the Avater was white as soapsuds with alkali, an' sometimes as red as brick-dust, not one time in five sweet an' clean. I reckon I swore a thousand times* if I ever got home agin nothin' stronger 'n cold water should pass my lips. I've drove all clay 'thout seein' a spear o' green, or a speck of any thing but sand; an' if we got grass once a day, we was in luck. Every day the men swore nothin' could beat this, an' the next day it was always worse. I reckon God knows what he made that country for — he haint told any body, though. "At last we got into a region that was the hind end o' creation — seventy miles 'thout a drop o' water or a spear o' grass! Nothin' but hot sand an' beds of alkali as white as your shirt. The trains used to start in one afternoon an' drive two nights an' a day, an' get to Mater the second mornin'. The whole way was lined with boxes an' beds an' clothes, an' pieces of wagons, one thing an' another the trains ahead had left, an' the last ten miles you might a' stepped from one cai'cass to another on the dead hosses an' mules an' oxen. Two o' our men got crazy as loons — you can see such strange things on them deserts. My head was clear as a bell, an' yet half the time I could see off to cue 40 WESTERN WILDS. side of us a train jest like oiir'n, only the men an' bosses ten times as l)i,>^ bush as thick as my thumb. "Well, we was into Californy at last, an' it looked like heaven to me. There was big trees, an' the wind blowin' soft away up in their tops ; an' the pretty clear |~|\A streams down the ^ mountain side an' sl?c** through the jjulcli- es made music all day. In so m e ])la('es the air Avas jist sweet that blowed out o' the pine woods, an' Aveek after week the sky was so blue, an' the air so soft, it seemed like a man could stand any thing. An' no matter how hard you worked in the day, or how hot it was, it was always so cool an' nice at night; you could sleep anywheres — on the ground or on a pile o' limbs, in the house or out o' doors, an' never catch cold. " MADE MUSIC ALL DAY. A WESTERN CHARACTER. 41 "But if the country was like heaven, the folks was like the other place, I reckon. Such sights — such (loins'! I'd never 'a believed men would carry on so. I went to minin' in the Amador, an' first they wasn't a woman in a hundred miles. And when one did come in one day on a wagon, the men all run to look at her as if she was a show. Better she'd a' stayed away, an' twenty more like her that come in when the diggins begun to pan out rich. I believe every woman was the cause o' fifty fights an' one or two deaths. It made me mad to see men fight about 'em, when they knowed jest w'hat they was — men that had mothers an' sisters back in the States, an' some on 'em sweethearts an' wives. They was mostly Mexican women, an' some Chilaynos an' South Spainers; an' somehow it was a sort o' com- fort to me that there was hardly ever an American woman among the lot. " Bimebv these diggins sort o' worked out, an' I went down on Tuoljinuu", an' then mined about Angells an' Murphy's Camp, an' finally to Sonora. Then all sorts o' new ways o' minin' come in, but thev took capital, an' I let 'em alone. Men was all the time runnin' about from camp to camp — so many new excitements — no matter how rich the ground where we was, some feller would come in with a big story about a new gulch, an' away they'd go. I've seen a thousand men at work along one creek, an' a big excitement break out, an' before night they wouldn't be twenty left. Sometimes a man would get title to big ground, an' hold it at a thousand dollars, an' when the rush come vou could buy him out with two mules an' a pair o' blankets. Many an' many a time I've seen a man go oif that way with a little money an' never be seen alive. Like enough his body was found away down the river, an' like enough it was never found. It got so they was men there that would cut a throat for ten dollars. It wasn't all one way, though. More'n once the robbers would tackle some gritty man tluit was handy with his 'barkers,' an' he'd get away with two or three of 'em. Every body carried the irons with him, ready to pop at a minute's notice, an' if a man traveled alone, he took his life in his hand. " It wa'nt long though till we got some kind o' government. Cali- forny was made a State the year after I got there, but that didn't sig- nify in the mountains; an' at Angell's Camp we chipped in together and hired regvdar guards to look after every suspicious man. The worst thing was to get down from the mines to Frisco; for if it Avas known that a man was a goin' to leave, it w^as 'sposed he'd made his pile, an' had it with him. At last I made a little raise— that was in 42 WESTERN WILDS. the spring of '52 — an' concluded to conic home. INIe an' my partner jest laid down our tools one niglit right where we worked, an' packed up, an' -when the camp was asleep lit out over tlie hills 'thout sayin' a word to any human bein.' Got home 'round by Panama all right, an' found every thing chipper, an' when I figured up I was just three hundred a head on the three year's trip. Better stayed at home for (/old — but it saved the boys." " Then you stayed at home and took comfort for the rest of your life, I suppose." There was dead silence. The " old woman " rose and retired to the other cabin ; the youths had long before ascended the ladder which led to their bed in the garret, and my host seemed to have finished. But it was evident there was sometliing more, and it was the most painful part of his story. The old wall-sweep clock struck nine in a loud, aggressive tone, which roused the old man, and he resumed in a dif- ferent manner — a mingling of regret and indignation: " It was a bad thing, a mighty bad thing, for old Tennessee, when the Whig party died. I felt in my bones no good could come of it. But I didn't think it would touch me so close as it did. I knowed trouble would come, but couldn't sec jist how. You know all about that. Our folks was all agin the war from the start. I was down at INIanchcster the day they hauled down the stars an' stripes, an' sez I, ' ]\Icn, you've bit off more'n you can chaw ;' an' they laughed at me. But I knowed them Northern men — seed 'em in Californy. Slow, mighty slow, to start a fight, but awful to hold on. "But I sha'n't dwell on this. In less'n three months, sir, both my boys was in it. I held up a year or more ; then come both armies swcepin' South, an' what our folks left the Federals took. I thought to make a crop yet, an' fixed up a good deal ; then come both armies back north'rd agin an' SAvep' me clean. But my old woman an' the girls turned out an' helped, an' in '63 we 'scaped a long time. Then they come South agin, an' we give it up. I really believed they'd drive each other back an' for'rd there for years. Next year I got up one mornin', an' there was a letter stuck under the door by some gcw- rillers, an' it said both my boys was bad shot, an' in the hospital at Atlanta. I felt death in my bosom right then. But I sha'n't dwell on this. An hour after sundown I was off on the only boss we had left, an' by daylight I was in the sand-hills along the Tennessee. The country was full o' soldiers, but I got round all of 'em an' to Atlanta. It was no good — no good. Men was dyin' all round, an' families broke up an' scattered, an' women an' children naked an' starvin'! What A WESTERN CHARACTER. 43 was my troubles to them ? The boys was fur gone, an' no medicines an' nothin' to help 'em could be got It was a might o' comfort, though, to see 'em 'fore they died, an' take back some keepsakes to their mother. Oh, stranger, that war was a powerful sight o' trouble to us all ! "They was buried, along with hundreds of others, an' I was gettin' ready to start back, when up steps a chap, an' sez he, ' Old man, we want you — can't spare a man now that can shoot.' An' I jist had a chance to send word home, an' then took the place my oldest boy had ; an' nigh a year after, when that regiment give in to old Sherman, I was one of the thirty-six — all that was left of a big regiment. « * * * J found my folks at a neighbors, but on my place they wasn't a stick nor a rail. I hadn't the heart to try it there agin. We got word that my wife's mother had died in the Cherokee Nation, an' left a good claim ; so I turned over the Tennessee land to my son-in- law (he married my only girl), an' had him take the other grand-chil- dren, too, an' he outfitted us for the Nation. " My Avife j)roved up on her Cherokee blood, an' I was let in under their law as bein' married to a Cherokee that had head-rights, an' we took her mother's place. Nice fixed up, too, it was, on Grand River, jist across from Fort Gibson, an' there my grandsons that come with us made two crops, an' then all at once the troubles about the Chero- kees started uj) again. I turned cold 'round the heart when I heard it — I did Avant rest so bad. Then I looked back only forty years, to the time when all the country, from Tennessee here, was wild, an' President, Congress, an' all said if the Cherokees would only come out here they wouldn't be bothered for ages an' ages, an' now this country's older 'n Tennessee was then. Neither did any man own his land in theCherokee Nation; it was common, an' we owned jist the improve- ments. So I took a good long look at the matter, an' sez I, ' Once more, Natie, dear (that's my wife), we've got to go once more; this is too good a country for Injins to keep if white men want it, an' you can swear they will long 'fore we die.' " So I traded that claim for this piece up here, an' my grandsons stuck, an' I guess we'll get along. What I dread more'n any thing is another war." " Why, what reason have you to dread it ?" " ' Burnt child,' you know. All my life I've been a man of peace, an' yet every fuss that come up hurt me. Three times I've been broke up an' ruined by wars an' troubles I had no hand in briugin' on. DonH you think they'll keep peace while I live?" 44 WESTERN WILDS. There was for a brief moment a new look in his eye — the eager, pleading look of a hunted animal. I reassured him, and his face re- sumed its usual air of placid humor and homely philosophy. " The story's about done. Hope I hav'nt bored you. It's a sorter queer world, aint it? Sometimes I think it jist icas to be so, an' no help, an' sometimes I conceit I ought to done better; but anyhow, all I git outen the whole of my experience is that a man must keep pcggin' away. But you're noddin'. Better you go to sleep early." And di- recting me to the ladder, this uncomplaining heir of adverse fortune sought his bed in the other cabin. Here was a man who had traveled over half the continent, been former, boatman, miner, soldier, and Indian trader, and never imagined that he had done more than his duty. Perhaps there is no moral to be extracted from his story; yet it somehow seems to me one on which discontented respectability, cushioned in an easy chair, might profita- bly ponder. CHAPTER III. THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. It was an era of change and fierce excitement. Omaha was in her specuhitive period. Daily hundreds of adventurous fortune-seekers set out for the mountains, and daily the refluent tide landed half as many of the returning — a very few fortunate beyond their hopes, many about as well off as when they started, and quite as many utterly bankrupt. Such a country could not but develop strange characters ; a man either failed, lost hope, and sank into a " floater," or developed an amazing capacity for lighting on his feet at every fall. There, for instance, was my friend Will Wylie, who had seen the el- ephant in its entirety, from trunk to tail. He went out in 1862, and "struck it rich" on his first vent- _^ ure in the mines of Montana; started with teams and wagons to California, and on the way was robbed of every ounce of his "dust" by the then swarming " road agents." They kindly left him his stock, with which he got through to California, and thence made a highly successful trip to Arizona. There he turned his means into a freighting company, and beguiled the lonesome hours of his long drives over mountains and deserts by calculating his certain wealth and early return to the States. When near Fort Whipple, and not three hours ride from a well-manned United States post, the Apaches attacked his traiu, stampeded all his stock but the mule he rode, and burnt all his property they could not carry off. By the light of his blazing wagons he fled, with an arrow sticking in his cheek ; his frightened animal ran till it dropped dead, but fortunately not till it had carried him into the quadrangle of the fort. He was picked up in- sensible, and in six weeks was out again with the loss of one eye. Re- turning to Montana, he joined the Vigilantes, and had the pleasure (45) HIS LAST CHANCE. 4G WESTERN WILDS. of presiding at a " neck-tic sociable " where two of the men who had robbed him were hanged. Some more " dust" was obtained out of the old claim in which he still held an interest, and in 1867 he came down on the Union Pacific as a trader. He had what he called a " big biz " at each successive terminus town, and was now in Omaha to buy a " little bill " of ten thousand dollars' worth of provisions, tobacco and "bitters" for the new metropolis beyond Cheyenne. Three years after I found him away up in the mountains of Utah, where he had put all his available means in a new and half-developed mine, and was sinking on the vein with tireless energy, in the daily hope of striking a bonanza. These hopeful ones rarely make the most money, but without them when would the Great West ever have been developed ? There, too, was Jim Garraway (who, however, will never recognize himself by this name), born and reared a gambler — never knew much else from boyhood. His father, companions, friends, all were gam- blers ; as a baby he played with faro checks, and learned English in the atmosphere of pool rooms. At twenty gaming was his infatu- ation. Now he had thoroughly reformed, never touched a card, and was in a responsible position in Wells, Fargo & Co.'s employ. Two years after he surprised me by a call at my office in Corinne, Utah. He was freighting thence to Montana, the owner of mules and wagons worth five thousand dollars. One evening, when idle time hung heavy on his hands, he strayed into one of our "sporting rooms." The smooth-spoken proprietor who so styled it, might have added, " What is sport to us is death to you," for Jim's old inflituation returned. He staked a pile of " chips" and won ; then made and lost, and made and lost alternately, selling his stock when " broke," and scarcely ate or slept till the tail of his last mule was "coppered on the jack." Repentant and returning Mormons were numerous, but seldom noisy. One I met who had been back and forth, in and out of the Church, three times. Now he declared with profane emphasis that this was the last time ; he had seen enough. One little party of a hundred recusant Saints, of all ages from six months to seventy years, had made the journey in primitive style with slow and patient ox- teams, all the adults walking. They had left Salt Lake Valley as soon as the cailons were clear of snow, and been three months on the road. Their condition was wretched; for in those days, under the iron-clad laws of Utah, no apostate ever got out of the Territory with any thing worth leaving. The Mormon priesthood taught the apostolic doctrine of " laying on of hands," and, the dissenters added, what they laid hands on they generally got away with. These people THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 47 ' liAYING ON OF HANDS. were destined to a "Josephite" settlement in Iowa, and at Council Bluffs they met three hundred new converts on their way to Utah, in charge of a bishop and platoon of elders. But there was very little intercourse between the two. The latter were fresh, hopeful, cheery, singing the "songs of Zion," and rejoicing in their speedy escape from "Babylon;" the recusants sad, weary, half mad and wholly heart- sick. Quick to curse Brigham, they were yet but half cured of their folly, and prepared to surrender mind an d conscience to another phase of the same delu- sion. The elders watch- ed their new recruits without appearing to do so, and at sight of the others were full of warnings and allusions to Demas and those who kept not the faith, and were given over to be damned. In those days most of the dissenting Saints left Utah ; now they remain, and with the skeptical young Mor- mons are building up a party which is very troublesome to Brigham. Council Bluffs was once almost a Mormon town, and many places in the vicinity were settled entirely by that sect. Apostates by thou- sands are scattered through Iowa, in faith "half Mormon and half nothing," but in practice good and industrious citizens. Mormonism does not make a man a fanatic, unless he goes where the Church has the majority and rules the country. Florence, six miles above Omaha, with as pretty a site as I saw in Nebraska, was the original winter quarters of the main body in their great exodus ; and according to the sanguine belief of the Gentiles who succeeded them, was to have been the great city instead of Omaha. It had the start, and no man can say why it should not have held it. But there is a mysterious law which governs the location of great cities, and Florence is now only a pretty suburb to the metropolis of Nebraska. The last of July, 1868, 1 took the evening train for Laramie, then the terminus of the Union Pacific Railroad. For a hundred and fifty miles from Omaha the Platte Valley, which the road follows, is one of the rich- est in the world. Then a change begins, and the country is higher, dryer, and more barren with every hour's travel toward the mountains. It is all the way up-hill. Omaha is 912 feet above sea-level; Cheyenne 48 ' WESTERN WILDS. 5,600; and through all that long incline of 525 miles, the road-bed maintains a nearly uniform up-grade of ten feet to the mile. At a few places it sinks to a level, and for two short stages there is a down grade westward: from the Omaha level to the Platte Valley, and from the " divide " down to Crow Creek, on which Cheyenne is situated. Nature evidently designed this valley for a railroad route. The Indian had used it from time immemorial; the voyageur and trapper trailed it for a hundred years before California was known in the East ; then the gold-huuters, Oregon settlers and Mormons turned the trail into a broad wagon road, and lastly came the railroad, obedient to the same necessities for water and a smooth route. West of Loup Fork we found the soil a little more sandy, and the grass shorter, with a dry and withered look ; and this change went on till at last we saw the heavy verdure of the Missouri Valley no more, and were introduced to the bunched and seeded grasses of the high plains and Rocky Mountains. North Platte, M'here we took breakfast, was once a roaring terminus "cit}-;" now a way station, with hotel and saloon attachment. Jules- burg, 377 miles out, had been a busy city of 5,000 inhabitants; now it was a wilderness of blackened chimneys and falling adobe walls, the debris of a dead metropolis. In the old days of the overland stage, one Julia, a Cherokee exile, kept the station hotel there ; and in the cheer- ful frankness of "Western life the place was known as "Dirty Jule's Ranche." Thence " Jule's," and finally Julesburg. Similarly " Rob- ber's Roost" has been softened to Roosaville, and "Black Bills" to Blackville. For three hundred miles we follow the course of the Platte, a broad but dirty and uninviting stream, differing only from a slough in having a swift current. Often a mile wide, but with no more water than would fill an average canal, three inches of fluid run- ning on top of several feet, of moving quicksand; too thin to walk on, too thick to drink, too shallow for navigation, too deep for safe fording, too yellow to wash in, and too pale to paint with, it is the most disappointing and useless river in America. Nevertheless, many attempts have been made to navigate it, all ending in disaster. Nota- ble among these was the venture of a party of hunters from New England, who started from Laramie in the spring of 1843 to run two flats loaded with furs to St. Louis. After two months arduous toil, oilen unloading and dragging their boats over sand-bars, they at last abandoned them, cached the property, and walked to Council Bluffs, where they arrived in July, nearly dead from fatigue and starvation. Three hundred miles out, and the plains in all their vastness are around us. The land rises into long ridges, stretching away swell on THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 49 swell as far as the eye can reach, as if the heaving ocean had suddenly become firm fixed earth ; and immense pampas spread away alternating flint and gravel with strips of wiry, curly grass, or at rare intervals a protected growth of stunted shrubs. Only the lowest vales contain any cultivable land, and that, to be productive, requires irrigation ; the bright flowers of the Missouri Valley are seen no more, the lark-spur alone retaining its hues; the wild sunflower and yellow saffron become dust-hued and dwarfish, while milk-weed and resin-weed sustain a sort of dying life, and cling with sickly hold to the harsh and forbid- THE GOOD OLD TI3IE." ding soil. Now appear depressed basins, with saline matter dried upon the soil, and long flats white with alkali, as if they had been sowed with lime. This is the "Great American Desert" of early geographers, a region practically worthless to the agriculturist, though half its surface is of some value for grazing. Antelope and prairie dog show themselves in considerable numbers, but it is too late for the buifalo; the main line of their northward migration passed two months before, nor are they to be seen as in the good old time the hunters tell about. I shall not inflict upon the reader the standard description of these animals, much less the account of dog, owl and rattlesnake as a 4 50 WESTERN WILDS. happy family in one burrow; for this is meant to be a veracious chron- icle, anil though I have since spent many hours in "dog-towns," I do not know such association to be a fact. Passinjj; the last and worst stage of the barren plains, we run down into the little oasis on Crow Creek, and to the "Magic City" of Chey- enne. Its rapid rise and mad career had given it a national fame. On the 3d of July, 1867, the first house was erected; on the 1st of No- vember there was a })opulation of 7,000, with a city government, a municipal debt, and three daily papers. When spring dissolved the snow banks and ice-packs from Sherman summit, the railroad pushed on ; Laramie became the metropolis, and Cheyenne sank to a quiet town of perhaps 1,200 people. Its further decay was arrested by the development of sheep-ranching, and its location as the junction of the Denver Pacific ; and now as the capital of Wyoming and most conven- ient outfitting point for the Black Hills, it looks forward to another era of prosperity. While I rested a few days at Cheyenne, the railroad was rapidly pushing westward, and soon another "metropolis" Avas laid off be- yond Laramie. From Cheyenne the road bed is nearly level to Hazard Station, officially pronounced the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains ; and thence the grade rises eighty feet per mile to Sher- man, 8,342 feet above sea-level, and highest point on the Union Pacific. Beyond that we have the magnificent scenery of Granite Canon and Virginia Dale, the last now seeming peaceful as an Ar- cadian dell, but with as bloody a history as any spot in the Rocky Mountains. In the olden time it was the favorite abode of land pirates, and every ravine in the vicinity was the scene of a murder. Thence the road makes a sharp bend to the north, and we run rapidly downward for forty miles to the new city of Laramie, already past its greatness, and many of its inhabitants leaving for the next "me- tropolis." Laramie Plains, though 7,000 feet above sea-level, abound in rich pastures; but westward the grassy slopes yield rapidly to bar- renness, and at Medicine Bow we enter fairly on the three-hundred- raile desert. In the worst part of this waste we found Benton, the great terminus town, six hundred and ninety-eight miles from Omaha. Far as eye could see around the town, there was not a green tree, shrub, or spear of grass. The red hills, scorched and bare as if blasted by the lightnings of an angry God, bounded the white basin on the north and east, while to the south and west spread the gray desert till it wa:? interrupted by another range of red and yellow liiils. The whole basin looked as if it might originally have been filled with THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 51 lye and sand, then dried to the consistency of hard soap, with glisten- ing surface, tormenting alike to eye and sense. Yet here had sprung up in two weeks — as if by the touch of Alad- din's Lamp — a city of three thousand people ; there were regular squares arranged into five wards, a city government of mayor and aldermen; a daily paper, and a volume of municipal ordinances. It was the end of the freight and passenger, and beginning of the con- struction division; twice every day immense trains arrived and de- parted, and stages left for Utah, Montana and Idaho. All the goods formerly hauled across the plains came here by rail, and were reship- ped, and for ten hours daily the streets tvere thronged with motley crowds of railroad men, Mexicans and Indians, gamblers, " cappers," and saloon-keepers, merchants, miners, and mule-whackers. The streets were eight inches deep in white dust as I entered the city of canvas tents and pole-houses ; the suburbs appeared as banks of dirty white lime, and a new arrival with black clothes looked like nothing so much as a cockroach struggling through a flour ba,rrel. "ONLY A MEMORY. Benton is only a memory now. A section house by the road-side, a few piles of adobes, tin cans and other debris mark the site where sales to the amount of millions were made in two months. The genesis and evolution of these evanescent railroad cities was from the overland trade. Two hundred thousand people in Colorado, Utah, Montana and Idaho had to be supplied from the States, and every ounce of freight sent them was formerly hauled from six to sixteen hundred miles. This trade successively built up Independence, Westport, Kansas City, Atch- ison, Leavenworth and Omaha ; but as soon as the Union Pacific was started it took that route. Hence those "roaring towns" at the suc- cessive termini, which sprang up like Jonah's gourd, and in most cases withered away as suddenly when the road passed on. First on the list was Columbus, Nebraska, and then Fort Kearney, where George Francis Train confidently located the geographical center of the United States, and future capital, and invested his money and his hopes. Kearney is now a prosperous country village and Train a harmless lunatic. North Platte suddenly rose from a bare sand bank to a city of 4,000 people, with banks, insurance offices and city government, all 52 WESTERN WILDS. aristocracy and common people, old settlers and first families. Three months after it consisted, in the sarcastic language of the Julesburgers, of a hotel, two saloons, a bakery, section-house and another saloon. Then came Julesburg, the wickedest city on the list. For sixty-three days there was a homicide every day ; ten dance houses ran all night, and thirty saloons paid license to the evanescent corporation. The rise culminated at Cheyenne; thenceforward Laramie, Benton, Green River City and Bryan grew successively smaller, and Bear River City closed the chapter with a carnival of crime ending in a pitched battle between citizens and roughs, in which twelve men were killed and twenty wounded. But the history Avould be incomplete without the annals of Wahsatch, built upon the summit of Wasatch Mountains, 7,000 feet above the sea, in ten days of January, 1869, while the mercury ranged from zero to ten degrees below. Despite the intense cold, the sound of hammer and saw was heard day and night, and restaurants were fitted up in such haste that meals were served while the carpenters w'cre putting on the second thickness of weatherboard ing. I ate my first breakfast there in one where the mer- cury stood at five degrees below zero! A drop of the hottest coffee spilled upon the cloth froze in a minute, while gravy and butter solid- ified in spite of the swiftest eater. It was a '* wicked city." During its lively existence of three months it established a graveyard with forty-three occupants, of whom not one died of disease. Some were killed by accident ; a few got drunk and were frozen; three were hanged, and several killed in a fight cr murdered; one "girl" stifled herself with charcoal fumes, and another inhaled sweet death from subtle chloroform. Transactions in real estate in all these tow^ns were, of course, most u.ncertain ; and every thing that looked solid was a sham. Red brick fronts, brown stone fronts, and stuccoed walls, were found to have been made to order in Chicago, and shipped in (pine) sections. Ready^ made houses were finally sent out in lots, boxed, marked and num- bered ; half a dozen men could erect a block in a day, and two boys with screw-drivers put up a " habitable dwelling" in three hours. A very good gray-stone stucco front, w^ith plain sides, twenty by forty tent, could be had for three hundred dollars; and if one's business hap- pened to desert him, or the town moved on, he only had to take his store to pieces, ship it on a platform car to the next city, and set up again. There was a pleasing versatility of talent in the population of such towns. To return to Benton. The Mormon converts were going forward THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 63 in large parties; 4,000 left Europe for Utah in 1868, that being the largest emigration of any year since the Church was founded. The number of arrivals now scarcely equals that of the apostates. Freight- ing to Salt Lake was also active, and teamsters being in demand, I took a position as engineer of a six-mule team, at a salary of forty dol- lars per month. Our "outfit" numbered ten wagons, sixty-one mules and sixteen men, including a night-herder, wagon-boss and four passen- gers. The four hundred miles to Salt Lake occupied four weeks, two- thirds of the way being through deserts of sand, soda and alkali, where we thought ourselves fortunate in finding a patch of bunch-grass once every twenty-four hours. The first night we formed corral at Raw- lins Springs, and the next in a walled basin on the old stage road, at what is called " Dug Springs." In the center of the basin was an alka- line lake which, moved by the evening breeze, looked like foaming soapsuds; but on its margin was a spring of pure water. Thence we moved on to the '' Divide of the Continent," a plateau of sand and rock, dotted with alkaline lakes in which "cat-fish with legs," as plainsmen style them, are abundant. I afterward saw the same species at Canon Bonito, Arizona, where the Navajo boys shot their arrows through them to secure me a few specimens. Science classes them as siredons, a species of lizards. Leaving this unpleasant country by way of Bridgcr's Pass, we were soon upon the westward slope, and for three days toiled down Bitter Creek — the horror of overland teamsters — where all possible ills of western travel are united. At daybreak we rose, stiff with cold, to catch the only temperate hour for driving. By nine A. M. the heat was most exhausting. The road was worked up into a bed of blinding white dust b}' the laborers on the railroad grade, and a gray mist of ash and earthy powder hung over the valley, which obscured the sun, but did not lessen its heat. At intervals the " Twenty-mile Desert," the " Red Sand Desert," and the " White Desert " crossed our way, presenting beds of sand and soda, through which the half-choked men and animals toiled and struggled, in a dry air and under a scorching sky. In vain the yells and curses of the teamsters doubled and re- doubled, blasphemies that one might expect to inspire a mule with dia- bolical strength ; in vain the fearful " black-snake " curled and popped over the animals' backs, sometimes gashing the skin, and sometimes raising welts the size of one's finger. For a few rods they would strug- gle on, dragging the heavy load through the clogging banks, and then stop exhausted, sinking to their knees in the hot and ashy heaps. Then two of us would unite our teams and drag through to the next solid 54 WESTERN WILDS. piece of ground^ where, for a few hundred yards, i\\e wind had removed the loose heaps, and left bare the flinty and gravelly subsoil. Thus, by most exhausting labor, we aeconipiished ten or twelve miles u day. Half an hour or more of temperate coolness then gave us respite till soon after sundown, when the cold wind came down, as if in heavy vol- umes, from the snowy range, and tropic heat Avas succeeded by a'rct^' cold with amazing suddenness. On the 27th of August my mule» were exhausted with heat; that night ice formed in our buckets as thick as a pane of glass. Thence across Green River we found Bridger Plains and the valley ^ ^^i!«K,.^=- _— _ of Bear River delightful by comparison^ ^ '* "^^ 1 and at noon of September 4th passed the summit of the Wasatch and entered Echo Caiion. Two days we traveled down this great ravine, enjoying a succession of ro- mantic views — sometimes down in the very bed of the stream, and sometimes far up the rocky sides of the cliff, where the " dug-way " wound in and out along the projecting " benches." Emerging thence into Weber Valley, we came upon the first gardens and cultivated fieltls I had seen for a thousand miles. The Mormon dwellings would have appeared p€K>r and mean in- deed in the States, but to one just from the ban'cn plains the valley was pretty enough. The railroad now nnis down Weber Canon, but we followed the old stage and wagon road southward up the Weber and over the divide into Parley's Park. Thence down the wild gorge known as Parleys Caiion, where every turn brings to view a fresh delight in the sublime and beautiful; and out upon the '' l)ench," on the evening of September 9th, we saw the great valley of Jordan, and the Salt Lake spreading far to the north and west. Twenty miles westward the Oquirrh Range glowed in the clear air, a shining mass of blue and white. Great Salt I^ke ex- tended beyond our sight to the northward, its surface glisten- ing in the light of the declining sun, while to our right the ''City of the Saints" as yet appeared but a white spot on the land- scape. To our left the canon of the Jordan seemed to close, giving the impression that that stream poured from the hills, while down the cen- ter of the valley the river shonfe like a glimmering band of silver. A ^^^ PCLPIT rock: echo caSout, THE JOURNEY TO UTAH. 55 little farther and I marked the great dome of the Tabernacle, and then the smaller buildings of Salt Lake City, rise out of the evening mirage, Math only the interest of a traveler, and little thinking of the years in which that was to be my home, or in what mysterious ways I was to be identified with its social and political combats. THE GREAT SALT LAKE, UTAH. But before I enter on the hackneyed themes of Utah and Mormon- ism, allow me, indulgent reader, to relieve the tedium of a merelv per- sonal narrative by giving the story of one who sought the Western Wilds from more heroic motives than mine. CHAPTER IV. GEFFROY'S TRIALS. We sat, my partner Robert GefFroy and I, upon the rocky slope of Griffith Mountain, that looks down upon Georgetown, Colorado. Two thousand feet below us the city seemed sunk in a great cleft in the earth ; around it rose on all sides precipitous mountains, their summits still covered with snow, though the June sun shone Avarm upon them, and the little pools fed by rivulets from the snow banks were bordered by bright flowers. At our feet the brawling brook formed a clear pool, the usual resting place of those who walked to the summit; a little below it plunged by a series of musical cascades into a granite canon, and was lost among the foot hills. AVhile our side of the mountain was still in shadow, beyond the town the line of shade and morning sunlight crept slowly down the face of Republican Mountain. My companion gazed long and earnestly upon the sublime scenery with that gentle melan- choly which habitually shaded his fine countenance. At length his dark eye, beautiful with the clear depth peculiar to the Swiss mountaineer, moistened a little, and he fell into one of his rare poetical moods. I had shared with him the vicis- situdes of a miner's life, and had found the usually taciturn man of some fifty years a most pleasing companion. Never intemperate, as were so many of the older miners, never garrulous or l)oastful, there were yet times when some undercurrent of intense thought bubbled to the surface ; then, in free converse in our cabin, he was the most fas- cinating of men. His language, with just enough of foreign accent, (56) WE SAT UPON THE ROCKY SLOPE OF GRIFFITH MOUNTAIN." GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 57 was that of one who had learned it from books rather than men ; his musical voice gave utterance to sentences loaded Avith poetic thoughts, and his lightest remark Avould have borne the test of severest criticism. To me he seemed a man of naturally ardent temperament and high aims, but thwarted and long repressed, with mind turned perhaps to unhealthful introspection. But to-day he was in an unusual mood ; he had just passed through one of his seasons of deep sadness, and, as it were, unconsciously, sought relief in friendly confidences. A light re- mark from me on the many uncertainties and disappointments of a miner's life led us on to a free discussion of the vexed questions of free will and destiny. "Are Ave," he asked, " indeed the authors of our course ? do we suc- ceed by our own endeavors or fail by our own errors ? or is there a chain of circumstances running concurrent with our daily lives, and ever shaping them to alien issues ?" I defended with vehemence my views that we all make or mar our own fortunes. He listened calmly, and replied : " Hear, then, my story, and learn how often the great movements of war and politics crush the humblest lives, and that not his own acts merely, but the acts of all his contemporaries, determine one's destiny." Thus began a series of confidences, Avhich, continued some evenings in our cabin, gave me the incidents of an eventful though humble life. * * * * * * * " I am, as you know, a native of beautiful Geneva, and my first rec- ollections are of grand mountains, mirror-like lakes, and old monu- ments. Mine Avas a childhood of rare happiness. My SavIss mother united to the earnest vigor of her race that Avondrous insight into the nature and feelings of childhood, AAdiich seems a special gift of God to the German people. My French father, Avhile he had none of that IcAdty or cynic indifference to all religions Avhicli so many of that race affect, AA^as yet happily free from superstition, jealous of priestcraft, and, for one in his position, quite a dcA'otee of learning. From our English visitors and customers I early acquired a smattering of their language, and some A^ague ideas of that liberty Avhich I then, in childish igno- rance, supposed they enjoyed. " Our family life is noAV present to my memory as a happy union of social love and intellect. My father recited the poems of Racine and Corneille, my mother rehearsed the fairy legends of her people ; both delighted in the heroic annals of the GencA^ese, and loA'ed to dAvell on the better days of that people. Around us Avas the sublime scenery of SAvitzerland ; our associations Avere largely Avith cultivated travelers, 58 WESTERN WILDS. and poetry was inwrought with my childish nature. But my father was siill Frenchman enougli to be given to the contemplation of vast systems of social philosophy — that peculiarly French philosophy which takes great and comprehensive princi})les on trust, and believes that man, once they are taught him, charmed by their beauty and symme- try, will gladly embrace them. The federation of the world, the equal- ization of conditions, the abolition of poverty— these were the themes that charmed his leisure hours, when not employed in the struggle to further increase the inequality that was already great betMcen him and his poorer neighbors. How pleasing is that philosophy by which great principles arc first to be established, upon which society and govern- ment are to be constructed like geometrical figures, and people mod- eled to fit and adopt them ; but how much more practical and sensible that cautious progress of your people and the English, which is taught by events, and is sometimes willing to learn humbly at the tribunal of facts. "On such a nature as mine the daily hearing of these things had momentous influence. Had I been bred to trade, it might have gone well. Commerce would have corrected the errors of an overheated imagination, and contact with men as they are, proved a healthful cor- rective to too much contemplation of them as they might h^. But my ambitious parents, who were vastly improved in circumstances by the prosperous years that succeeded the general peace, and the return tide of English travel, determined to bestow upon their only son a classical education, at that day in Geneva thought to be the key to all prefer- ments in church or state. Even now I feel a pang at what must have been the keenness of their disappointment. Once entered upon my classical studies, a new world was opened to my impressible mind. Mythology I found but dull — how could so grand a people have be- lieved in such filthy deities? — but the heroes of classic annals set my very soul on fire. Could it be that such men had lived — men that died by battalions for the honor of their country, or ran upon their swords rather than survive her liberty? I panted as I read, I breathed the very spirit of Livy ; I shed tears over what other school-boys called the dull pages of Tacitus. In moments of such enthusiasm, I had but to close my eyes and recite the sonorous lines, and at once before me rushed the awful pageant of the returning conqueror: his triumphal car, the captured enemies of his country walking behind it, the blare of trumpets, the tramp of victorious legions, while the welkin rang with the shouts of Roman thousands. I struggled with the patriots of Thermopylfe, I defended the bridge with Horatius, with Dcntahis GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 59 I bared my breast to traitors, I ran upon my sword in the despair of Brutus. "But when I read the bright annals of Geneva's better days, it was as though I had breathed an intoxicating incense; and in the Refor- mation I found a vein of antique heroism. Calvin, Pascal, the Wal- dense, the Albigense, I wept over their sorrows and trials, was warmed with their struggles, and glad in their triumphs. Not their religion, but the exaltation of their patriotism excited me. How dull, then, seemed the common-place life of our trading town, how mean its petty economies; and how unworthy the destiny my parents had so fondly imagined for me. The beautiful land and city which patriot reformers had early saved from papal Rome, now seemed given up to the gods of materialism and sold wholly to the commercial Satan. I was blinded to the heroism of common life — the true greatness of the many who daily toil and suffer for those they love. "Before reaching my eighteenth year I fully determined to seek a land where political systems were yet to be developed, and might be modeled upon abstract equity. I would be a citizen of the Republic of Humanity. But where was such a land to be found? The revolu- tion of 1830 had only resulted in giving France another king; and their so-called moderate monarchy I looked upon with abhorrence. Like my classic models, I believed the very name of king incompatible with freedom. England was still less tolerable. I associated it with all that was hateful in titles and hereditary privileges. The New World was the place to look for the Brotherhood of Man ; for the very air of Europe was poisoned with priestcraft, and its soil barren of high resolve. The South American States were struggling toward an auton- omy, but, with the subtle instinct of the Teutonic blood, I distrusted the lofty professions of a Latin race. Their short-lived liberty dem- onstrated an inherent incapacity to respect the individual right, and their young republic was only old despotism under new names and forms. Republics, I was persuaded, could not coexist with priests; for with their politics I had nearly rejected my people's religion. " With the little sum I could gain by long pleading with my parents, I sought this republic, persuaded that here, when one met a man, he met a brother. " Need I say that I was cruelly disappointed. Without nobility, there was almost equal caste ; and without old families, there was equal tyranny in the new. Wealth and color made classes as widely diver- gent as rank and birth, and in the boasted land of liberty, one-tenth of the whole population were bondsmen. The republic was ruled by 60 WESTERN WILDS. an oligarchy of slaveholders, and along the same paths trod by Wash- ington, l)lack men were chased by republicans, or torn by blood-hounds, for the crime of seeking freedom, in sight of the very school-houses where boys declaimed in praise of William Tell. I visited the various communes, where a few enthusiastic spirits had sought to establish the Human Brotherhood on a basis of perfect equality. At New Harmony I found the short-lived experiment already a failure. Communia was even less satisfactory. The religious communes I found intolerable from their plentiful lack of common sense ; and in the others observed a grossness of conception that raised in my mind a wonder, not that they failed, but that they should ever have been established. I turned my steps toward Nauvoo, then rising into prominence as the last and greatest attempt to establish a religious brotherhood. But there I found all the evils of the old systems, with few of their corresponding benefits : priestcraft without its paternal care, greed without a thought of future reckoning insuring the defeat of its own aims, and a fanat- icism which scorned the commonest suggestions of prudence. That such a community would soon or late come into conflict with the neighboring Americans, was certain. "From Nauvoo, in the early months of 1842, I visited St. Louis, meeting there an agent of the American Fur Company, with whom I took employment. I was nearly cured of my early dreams, but still hoped that a land might be found where humanity would have a fairer chance, and rank and wealth confer no greater power than morals and intellect. I sousrht the AVestern Wilds to commune with nature in her unbroken solitudes, convinced that there, at least, the few residents w-ere as brothers. But humanity's weakness is common alike to the city and the desert. On the vast plains, and amid the majestic mountains, wherever man meets man, the struggle goes on even more fiercely, though not more earnestly, than beneath the smooth surface of urban society. Every-where the strong and ambitious are struggling to the front, the weak and unskillful falling to the rear. Under the pressure of com- mon danger or common want, the pioneers do indeed become as brothers, for the safety of each is the good of all ; but the danger passed or the want supplied, egotism asserts itself even more fiercely for its temporary repression. Even as you have seen the unhurt buffa- loes gore a wounded mate to death, lest its struggles and bello wings attract the beast of prey, so the rushing crowd can not pause, lest he who is up to-day go down to-morrow. "February, 1843, found me at Fort Lancaster on the Platte, without any particular aim. There I met Colonel Warfield, in the service of GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 61 the young republic of Texas, bearing a commission adorned with the bold signature of Sam Houston, President. I was then twenty-two years of age, and seriously debating with myself whether I should not gladden the hearts of my parents by a return to the sober life of Geneva. A few years had done wonders for me. Practical life had taught me to dream no more of the Brotherhood of Man; that liberty and progress are to be secured by no cunningly devised schemes, but earned by slow and toilsome steps of the individual, and that priestcraft and despotism can not be argued out, but must be suifered out. But I saw more clearly that a free republic, with all its faults, is still the best attainable government, and a brief acquaintance with Colonel Warfield revived much of my old enthusiasm. The Texans had freed themselves from the tyrannous domination of another race, and were struggling toward a more perfect liberty, and instinctively I sympathized with them. With heightened color and eye glowing with patriotic ardor, Colonel Warfield recounted the undying glories of the Alamo, where Crockett, Travis and their brave companions died fight- ing to the last; of Goliad, Corpus Christ! and San Jacinto. It was to me the classic age restored. Heroes walked the earth again. There were giants in that land and in those days. But when he unfolded the bullet-riddled flag that had waved over Corpus Christi, and told of the brave men who there died beneath its folds, I was filled with zeal to emulate their heroism. " When he called for volunteers, a start only was needed, and, fol- lowing my example, a dozen men promptly enrolled their names. We were to be part of a volunteer company of riflemen, the remainder to join us at the rendezvous just beyond the Arkansas, on the Rio de las Animas, in what was then Mexican territory. We were to act as a corps of observation to assist the main army, then on its way from Texas, and were enlisted for nine months, each man to furnish his own horse, gun, and accoutrements. The others accompanied Colonel Warfield at once, but settlement with the company detained me ten days, and I set out alone on the 9th of March. A snow-storm had raged for a week, and, with a great deal of suffering, I made my way alone to the mouth of the Fontaine Que Bouille, and thence, with a single companion, to the rendezvous. Disappointment awaited me. The expected detachment from the States had not arrived, and our whole force numbered but twenty-four men — adventurers, apparently, from every clime under heaven, and well supplied as to arms and horses. They were uniformed in dazzling variety, but in one respect harmoniously — a uniform of furs, blankets, and rags ! 62 WESTERN WILDS. "If I was amazed at the appearance of these patriots, how much more was I confoanded by their language ! Can I record their con- versation, their absurd views of political morality, their desires, their hopes! A few were, I trust, like myself, acting from pure love of liberty, a few for the good of the republic, more from a hope of gain, and most from the pure abandon of Western character. But from the eyes of all gleamed a good nature that gave hope of social comfort and safety among them, while the cheerful frankness with which they spoke of their past indicated too plainly that a few of them felt more comfortable TO THE KENDEZVOUS. beyond the reach of legal process. One young man, whose conversa- tion showed some culture, evinced great anxiety to form a junction with the main army, and penetrate at once into the Mexican settle- ments — and no wonder. I afterwards learned that he had left St. Louis impromptu, somewhat in arrears in his accounts with a bank in which he had been employed. His most intimate companion was equally eager for an early advance. The friends of a lady in Ohio, he frankly stated, had given him a great deal of trouble — all uncalled for. GEFFBOY'S TRIALS. 63 he insisted ; but the laws of that Puritanic commonwealth were odi- ous and tyrannical upon social subjects. He was an ardent advocate of individual liberty. Another avowed himself weary of a life of hardships on the mountains and plains; he was going down into Mexico for a little rest. His right-hand neighbor had left the States because he was tired of a humdrum life ; he wanted a change. One went for variety, another to find a location ; all seemed to think the expedition a brief holiday, which was to end in victory and abun- dance. They had our future course fully settled : we should travel leisurely across prairies rich in grass, thread canons alive with game, and effect a junction with the Texan Invincibles, a thousand strong; then march on the settlements, encounter perhaps some thousands of Mexican soldiers, scatter them like the wind, dictate terms to Old Armijo, in Santa Fe, make an advantageous peace, and settle down in the mild climate and on the fertile soil of the Rio Grande to a life of dreamful ease. There was much talk of dark-eyed scnoritas, dowered with vast ranches, where the contented owner would ride amid his thousands of sheep and cattle, pluck the luscious grape, and drink from great casks of red wine. This was their romance ; the reality is to come. "After brief consultation, a division of forces was agreed upon. Fourteen men, including the Colonel, were to go down to the ' Cross- ing' (where the Santa Fe trail crossed the Arkansas), and await the main body of riflemen from the States, or obey any orders from the Texan force, wdiile the remainder, among them myself, were to proceed to the point where the Taos trail crossed the Las Animas, and act as a scouting party until further orders. We set out on the 21st of INIarch, under command of a lieutenant, a gallant and graceful polyglot, who gave command in three languages, and joked and swore in a dozen more with inspiring fluency. That day we marched up the Timpas, then turned south south-west, toward the Las Animas. Having started with but one day's supply of provisions, and that of dried buffalo meat, we soon suffered for food. Our dependence w^as upon game, but at that season there is little grass, and animals are poor and shy. Two days and three nights did we toil over the high and barren lands with- out food, and only supplied with water from the pools filled by melting snow. Our horses were so exhausted that we walked most of the time, chewing only the cud of bitter fancies. Already the bright visions with which we set out were dissipated, and an awful sense of impend- ing calamity seemed to weigh down the spirits of every one. The third day we killed a straggling wolf, which furnished us a miserable meal — just enough to excite a ravenous desire for something better. 64 WESTERN WILDS. Three days more we fasted, and came, completely exhausted, upon an old Indian camp, where we found some green buffalo hides, which the wolves had abandoned. These we scraped and boiled till we had a pasty mixture resembling glue thickened with scraps of leather, upon which we made a hearty meal. Again we fasted two days, and at last, faint from starvation, descended into the valley of Las Animas. " The green growth here and there greatly restored our horses, and, despite the warning of the more experienced, some of the men ventured to cat the cactus bulb, insisting that its rank properties might be erad- icated by roasting it in hot sand and ashes, in the same manner as the California Indians neutralize the virus of various roots. The first who partook felt no immediate eflPccts, and praised it highly, upon which we all ate greedily, drinking freely at the same time of the slightly miner- alized water of the Las Animas. But two hours' time showed that the inherent properties of the cactus were but slightly neutralized, if at all. Strange tremblings shook our frames, succeeded by dizziness and a de- sire to vomit. These were followed soon by agonizing pains, in which the sufferers rolled upon the ground in fearful contortions, and uttering heart-rending cries. It was a night of unmitigated misery. All recov- ered, but so weak that only three of the party were able to move about. It was simply impossible to proceed, or even hunt for game. Accord- ingly lots were cast between the horses, and the one thus condemned was slaughtered for food. On this we made a most delicious meal, al- ternately resting and eating at frequent intervals all day. Late at night we Avere so far restored that we feasted with glad hearts, and again the camp resounded with jokes, songs, and laughter. All were clamorous to advance at once on the Mexican settlements. Daily I saw more and more that mountaineers are much like children — unduly confident when all goes well, and correspondingly gloomy under the pressure of distress. The equal mind, preserved in arduous toils and fortune's sunshine, product of a higher mental cultivation, is not often theirs; they are elated by good omens, and cast down by auguries of ill ; their plans are often disturbed by the suggestion of night-mare dreams, and gloomy apprehensions seize them from the unseasonable flights of birds or other strange outgivings of animal instinct. " With restored strength, and some few days' supjjly of food, we trav- eled up stream, and were soon in the grand canon of the Rio de las An- imas, as it is called by the Catholic Spaniards. This strange river, with such extremes of delightful valley, barren waste, or gloomy and forbidding cafion, has received corresponding names from all races. The Indians call it the Wild River, the French christened it Piquer GEFFROTS TRIALS. 65 L'Eau, or water of suiFering, but the pious Spaniards name it River of Souls, which your unpoetic but practical race have shortened to Purga- tory. We soon entered the grand canon where the stream cuts its way through a high and barren table-land, running in a deep gorge, with almost perpendicular sides. Sometimes these crowd in upon the stream, and fallen rocks choke up its bed, producing a series of beautiful cascades ; again, the cliffs recede, and leave a little oval valley, inclosed by red and yellow walls, rich in grass and timber, and often abounding in game. At length we reached a gorge too narrow and difficult for pass- age, and were compelled to turn into a side gulch and climb the almost perpendicular cliff*, at least six hundred feet in height. All day we toiled along a series of rocky offsets, again and again lifting our horses over the rocks by means of ropes attached to their bodies, and at night-fall camped upon the high mesa. Thence we followed only the general course of the Las Animas until we arrived at our destined post, which was in a large grove of cot- tonwoods just below where the Taos trail crosses the stream. North and east were the sandy des- erts, southward the tierras templadas that skirt the heads of the Cimarron and the Colorado tributary to ^"^^^^ °^ ^^^ animas. the Canadian; but westward a more fertile plat rose even to the foot of the Huatiuetories, which your people now call the Spanish Peaks. There we kept close guard upon the trail, expecting to capture some of the enemy's scouts, but beyond that and herding our stock, were free from care. Grass, game and pure water were abundant, and in a few days every man felt equal to a hundred Mexicans. Again songs were heard and merriment reigned around the camp-fire ; again did we hear of that glorious future in Mexico. All the omens were propitious ; the restored mountaineers had good dreams, and the birds again flew in unison with their brightest hopes. " Doubts of my companions, which had slumbered in time of toil and trouble, returned amid abundance, but were happily set at rest bv a circumstance that soon occurred. One day our guards hailed a small party, who fled northward, but were captured after a sharp chase of sev- eral miles. They proved to be two Americans and an Englishman, with two Mexican guides and servants, on their way from Santa Fe to Fort Lancaster, and thence to the States. Havini^ been successful 66 WESTERN WILDS. traders, they were well equipped, and had with them a large quantity of gold and silver ; but, after hearing their aeeount, our party released them. It was evident then, tliat whatever our men might be, and how- ever unworthy the motives of some, they were not marauders. " From these travelers we received news that greatly disheartened us. A European Spaniard, who had been in the Texan army of invasion in 1842, and was then suspected of being a spy, had reported himself for reenlistment, and been assigned to Colonel AVarfield's command. This action caused unusual confidence to be reposed in him, and after gleaning all the information possible, he proceeded by the shortest route to Santa Fe, and laid the whole case before the Mexican Gov- ernor, Armijo. But that worthy had received still more circumstantial accounts of us from some resident American traders, who had agents out upon the plains, and who were base enough to betray the cause of liberty for such favors in the remission of tariff duties, and other com- mercial advantages, as a Mexican Governor at that time could extend. " Soon after came a messenger from Colonel Warfield with orders to join him at Rabbit Ears, a noted landmark midway between the Cimarron and Arkansas. We had enough of the Las Animas, and our lieutenant mapped out a new route, thus : south two and a half days to the Cimarron, thence down it five days to the Santa Fe trail, and thence north-west to Rabbit Ears. We entered at once upon the sandy plain, which continued all the way to the Cimarron. Sometimes cacti covered the sand so close that every step was dangerous, or thick clusters of greasewood excluded all useful growth ; and again naked sterility denied footing to vegetable life. As we neared the Cimarron, the region grew still more forbidding. Behind us was the desolate table-land, before us the gloomy mountains; the few water holes were poisonous with alkali or other mineral salts, and the men, half crazed with thirst, declared with profane emphasis that such a country was little worth fighting for. We descended through a side gorge into the canon of the Cimarron, winding along a buffalo trail, and upon a rocky bench barely wide enough for our animals. The walls of this fissure were at least eight hundred feet high, and facing each other at a distance not exceeding twenty-five yards. A large stone, loosened at the beo-innins: of our descent, shot downward with the velocitv of a cannon-ball, while the echoes sounded from side to side in gloomy re- verberations. Once down to the bottom of the cafion, our route was easy enough along the course of the stream; at times in an oval vale, adorned by heavy groves and vocal with the songs of birds, again in a narrow canon, and again out upon bare ])lnts of l)urning sand. GEFFROY'S TRIALS. 67 Bat whether the few green plats were the beginning of mother nature's mighty reform, to redeem the whole desert, or the last survivals in the lonof struo^ffle against increasing: barrenness, we could not know. The stream is large, and the water pure through this part of its course, but as soon as we emerged upon the great plain, the Cimarron shrunk to a mere rivulet, and in a little while vanished entirely. Thence for hundreds of miles, it is said, scarcely a shrub or spear of grass adorns its banks. The high plains between the Cimarron and Arkansas we found even more desolate. There only the transient showers and melt- ing snows of spring produce, in the most fa- vored spots, a faint tinge of green. Then a few pearly drops spatter crag and peak, or linger on the plain as though desolation half relented the work she had to do, or mother nature sorrowed for her short-lived offspring ; but soon all this is passed, and summer with scorching days and dewless nights hastens to ravish the evanescent beauties of spring and turn her green to stubble. " Reaching the Santa Fe trail, we met a friendly party of Arapahoes, who told us that four hundred Mexican cavalry had gone north in search of us only two days before, getting down to the cim- » 1 . /» 1 1 • 1 AKKON. As this was confirmed by evidences on the trail, we strained every nerve to get across the desert and effect a junction with the rest of the force. The season was already well advanced, and, to avoid heat and thirst, we traveled as ftir as possible that night. During the entire distance of some forty miles we found no water, and till late the next afternoon men and horses suffered the. agonies of thirst. The animals finally became almost unmanageable, and our principal pack-horse stampeded, carrying off considerable ammunition, and could not be recovered. Coming up to the rendez- vous, Avhat was our disappointment to find, not the expected detach- ment from the States, but the handful we had left a few weeks before on the Arkansas. Discouragement and discontent now threatened open mutiny. The season was late, and the hottest weather approach- ing ; the water-holes were fast drying up, the Mexicans fully apprised of our plans, and the whole country on our line of advance scoured by their cavalry. Colonel Warfield hurriedly set forth the situation ; then, with one of his nervous magnetic appeals, urged us to strike at least one blow before retiring. By unanimous vote a new plan was ?5^S>*«'-i''f^*''"* 68 WESTERN WILDS. agreed upon. It ^vould never do for us to return the way we had come, a.s every water-hole was guarded, and an ambush set in every mountain pass. We must strike one l)h)\v, and then, if the Texan army never came, reach the Arkansas by a less frequented course. "It was decided to go westward up the arroyo we were on, and then straight south to the Cimarron again. The two days we followed the arroyo, grass was abundant, and water enough found in the limestone "pockets," which appear occasionally along these canons. Thence southward we pressed with all possible speed day and night over the barren mesa, and when men anci horses Avere frantic with thirst, again arrived at the Cimarron. There we cached our surplus baggage, and thence made another forced march across the rocky table-lands, and over a sjiur of the Taos Mountains, toward the nearest Mexican settle- ments. Halting in a green depression of the divide between the waters flowing cast and those of the Rio Grande, our scouts reported a body of sixty Mexican cavalry in a fortified camp just ahead, and com- manding the only pass to the settlements. Further scouting dis- covered a point from Avhich our whole force might overlook their camp. This point we gained by a circuitous route next day, and camped in a dense thicket of cedars and pines. Below was a consider- able valley, through which ran a small stream bordered by cotton- wood and willoAv ; in a dense grove of the former, and on the farther bank of the stream, was the Mexican camp, beyond it a narrow pass leading to a small town. It Avas agreed that avc should effect a sur- prise just beyond daylight next morning, capture the force if possible, then make a dash into the toAvn and retreat before they could raise a force sufficient to oppose us. " Soon after midnight avc cautiously descended by a detour of some five miles, Avhich brought us down into the cottonwood thicket nearest the enemA''s camp. Thence Ave moved on sloAvly to the bank of the stream, but Avere disconcerted to find it three times as large as it had appeared from the hill. After a Avhispered consultation, it Avas de- cided that the enemy's guards Avere upon the opposite bank and might be surprised and disarmed. With this view we Avaded the almost ice- cold stream so noiselessly that Ave Avere ascending the opposite bank when the first sentinel hailed: " ' Quienes veniren f (Who comes?) " ' Que dijo f ' (What do you say ?) * '" Quienes veniren / Caraho!' was his response, as he discharged his piece at the nearest man, and fled into camp. We folloAved close, and were upon the soldiers as they rose from sleep. GEFFROTS TRIALS. 69 " '3funchos Tcjanos P (Many Texans !) yelled the other sentinels, as our men rushed upon and disarmed them. "'Si, si, munchos Tejanos — quieron los scoupetasP was the cry, as we sprang to prevent them. The five men named for that duty had secured most of the arms, but a short, sharp struggle ensued, in which five of the Mexicans were killed and as many wounded. But the sur- prise Avas so complete that most of them fled precipitately toward the pass. It was impossible to secure our prisoners and the captured arms, and collect our horses in time to make the intended attack upon the village before they could have been fully aroused and prepared. We therefore hastily collected the arras and horses of the fugitives, paroled the prisoners, destroyed every thing we could not carry off, and pushed with all speed for the spur by which we might reach the table-lands to the eastward. Reaching, late in the afternoon, a high point in the eastward pass, we thought ourselves beyond pursuit, and halted for a rest. In the general gayety, discipline was relaxed, and the guards stationed with the horses ventured to leave their posts for a few moments and enter camp. In the midst of our meal the shout was heard: 'There go our horses!' and all hands sprang up only to witness our noble cavallard under full headway before a body of Mexican horsemen, while at the same instant a brisk fire was opened upon us from flank and rear. For an instant we were paralyzed ; then seized our arms, and, at the word of command, charged upon the enemy on the hill in front. The panic-stricken Mexicans rushed down the opposite slope, leaving three dead upon the ground ; we followed, and soon cleared the field in all directions, till not an enemy was in sight. One of the Mexicans had been holding two mustangs in the rear of the attacking party, and though shot dead, still held the halters tight gripped in his hands. Hurriedly cutting them loose, the St. Louis man and I sprang upon the animals, and, despite the warning cry from Colonel Warfield, dashed after the cavallard, now on the brow of the plateau, two or three miles away, and going at full speed. " It was madness, but we had little time to think. It was death, we considered, to lose our horses in such a place, and to die in an attempt to regain them could not be worse. A gallop of a few miles, without gaining on the cavallard, gave us time to reconsider, and we turned re- gretfully toward the camp. But as we did so, a party of at least fifty Mexican horsemen appeared on the way we had come. A wild yell of triumph rose upon the air, followed by a shower of scoupeta balls, one of which laid my companion's horse dead, leaving its rider senseless upon the ground. One instant I thought of surrender as a prisoner of 70 WESTERN WILDS. war. But quickly came the thought that, in the lieated condition of the enemy, certain death awaited me ; or, if not that, a lingering death in a Spanish dungeon. I was nerved by desperation, and dashed down a long slope to the right. "From every hollow, from behind every sandy hillock, horsemen seemed to rise, and still I cleared them all. The mustang was compar- atively fresh, and, by frequent doubling and turning, I gained the ad- vance on a long slope, which led westward to the plain. A hundred INIcxican cavalry were strung out behind me, the nearest just out of range. Slowly I gained upon them, plying the spur savagely, and was just beginning to breathe more freely, when suddenly there yaAvned before me an arroyo Avith jierpendicular sides, not more than tAventy feet wide, but of unknown depth. I reined my mustang back npon his haunches at the very edge of the chasm, then turned to look my last upon the earth. How fair then seemed the desert, but a little while ago so wild and waste — how bright the sun — how majestic the snowy mountains, glowing far to the north through the calm air ! "A yell of triumph from the enemy came with sudden jar upon my cars, and close after it a shower of scoupeta balls ; one cut my coat- sleeve, while another plowed a furrow along my cheek. The sharp sting of pain, the flow of warm blood, the insulting yell, maddened me. I would not die — would not consent to their triumph ; or, if die I must, I would sell my life dearly. I turned and galloped fiercely towards the foe, discharging my pistol as I advanced. In sheer astonishment at my desperation, they drew up. Again animal fear reasserted itself — the mad instinct for one moment more of life — and I turned towards the chasm. Again the fierce, insulting yell of the mongrel cut-throats — again a shower of scoupeta balls. And now the enemy were near enough for me to hear their insulting laugh — their discussion in bastard Spanish of the best method to finish me without danger. They came on more and more slowly. Again a few scoupeta balls whistled around me, and I felt the sting of another slight wound. "Could my mustang leap the chasm? These mountain-trained beasts were active ; he was young and strong ; at the worst it was but death — death sudden and bravely dared. Thus swifter than lightning ran my thoughts in the awful presence of the unknown. " Putting him at full speed, I spurred him to the very edge, then, rising in my stirrups, loosed the reins as he bravely took the leap. I hear, as if it were but yesterday, the loud yell from the astonished Mexicans; I see again the frightful gorge — in awful dreams again I urge him to the fearful leap. GEFF ROY'S TRIALS. 71 " With a tremendous bound he cleared the chasm, landino; wifh his fore feet on the opposite side. For one brief instant the life of horse and man trembled in the balance. Plope, despair, joj, resignation — liow rapidly I felt them all, but only for an instant. With deadly re- bound, I felt myself thrown violently downward, and against the op- posite side. Pure sunlight changed to fiery red, and again to dazzling FOR LIFE OR DEATH. gray ; my mother's sad, sweet face looked down an instant from the narrowed sky ; streams of fire darted from the firmament, and after them came darkness blacker than tongue can tell. Blow after blow was rained upon my head ; my flesh was cut as with sharp knives. I was an age in falling, and yet all was over in an instant. Conscious- ness yielded, and I sank down, down, down into darkness, oblivion ! Was it death? CHAPTER V. DOLOEES. " Was I in the land of spirits ? Had the awful River of Souls in- deed swallowed me up ? Dense darkness, blaekness that could be felt, was around me. Every faculty was suspended, except simple con- sciousness ; of past or future I had no conception — I only knew that I was. It must be that I had passed from earth, and this was the region into which philosophy had never penetrated. " There was a slight rustle near me, and, exerting all my force of will, I attempted to move ; there shot through me such a pang of agony that I screamed aloud. " 'Ah, j)ovrltta ! ' said a soft, musical voice, and delicate fingers touched my forehead, and then were pressed upon my lips. I dimly comprehended that I was to remain silent and still ; but my pain was too great, and I groaned again and again. I now perceived that my left arm and leg were tightly bandaged, and held in rude wooden frames ; my head also was covered with some tenacious strips. I was helpless as a mummy. The gloom seemed to soften; a ray of light ap- peared here and there, and a distant tinkling was heard, like the sound of sheep bells. A cup was pressed to my lips ; I drank of a bitter de- coction, and soon sank into a profound sleep. " When I awoke, comparatively free from pain, there was light enough to show that I was lying on a couch in a small room, in which some one was moving about. The blanket which served for a door was put aside, admitting the bright rays of the morning sun, and the same soft voice spoke in Spanish. " 'Are they out of sight, Gomez ?' " ' Beyond El Sentinel, scnorita,' was the reply. " 'And gone ?' "'To join the main body, maesira mia; they will never look here.' " I understood barely enough of the language to know that this im- plied safety. The curtain was slowly drawn aside, and the speakers departed. For hours I sought in vain to take up the tangled thread of my existence. Geneva Avas clear in my mind, and I fancied myself in some cave in the hills of Switzerland. I thought, and thought, and DOLORES. 73 thought again, ' Much wondering what I was, whence hither brought, and how.' Beyond my school days I could not get the clew. Again I slept, and awaking memory brought back my journey to the States, the Texan expedition, and — all at once I was again at the rendezvous ; again I rushed madly on the chasm, again I dared the awful leap, and, with a shriek, relapsed into insensibility. " I was dimly conscious of two persons about my bed, both men ; but men of a garb and color I had seen only in dreams. The one who seemed to have most authority again pressed the bitter draught to my lips, and I sank into a long refreshing sleep. When I awoke it was midday, and I saw that I was in a room half cave, half cabin, such as the Mexican herdsmen build far up the mountains. On the wall were pictures of the A-^irgin and some saints, at the foot of the bed a crucifix, while a few adornments of some elegance were scattered about. It Avas evidently the abode of rude herdsmen, hastily refitted by a woman. All this I saw in a few seconds of half-waking con- sciousness. But only for an instant. As I moved, some one came forward holding a cup, and at sight of her, the red blood rushed over my enfeebled frame. She spoke. Away flew all my dreams of Texan independence, away my heroic plans for the Brotherhood of Man, away my cultivated hatred of all the Spanish race ; any life was worthless that did not include her. In this there was no cold reasoning; there was no thought that it was best, or why ;. ,. „„ 1^ 1. -J. A.\ \ 2 "SOMEONE CAME FORWARD HOLDING A CUP." it was best; it came as the hot winds come from the desert, upon the green oasis. " ' The Virgin be praised, he speaks and lives ! ' "'But where am I?' "'Safe.' " ' But my friends, my companions in arms ? ' "'They are gone to their own country; but never mind. Eest and sleep.' "I need not recount the progress of our attachment. Her home was at a hacienda, some miles down the valley — one of the outposts. Her parents were rich only in flocks and herds ; their servants, peons and Pueblo Indians. As the custom of these herders is to move higher 74 WESTERN WILDS. up the mountains with the advance of the season, tliey were in this hut at the time of our approach. It appeared that the rebound of mv horse from the opposite bank had hurled me back into the bushes growing out from the side of the gorge some twenty feet down ; and thence by a succession of falls among the shrubby growth, I had reached the bottom sixty feet below, fearfully bruised and broken, but not mortally hurt. The Mexicans saw no way of descending except bv makins a lonir circuit and seeing my horse crushed to jelly at the bot- tom, they concluded I was dead under h i m. Fortunately I was found by the Pueblo Ggmez, -"^^ and brought to the cabin. Had a Mexican found me " THE MEXICANS SAW NO WAY OF DESCENDING." " Had word gone to the hacienda, the command would have been prompt : ' Give him up ! " But she saw me first, and womanly pity sub- ordinated all other thoughts to that of saving me. In secret the medicine man of the nearest pueblo was brought to dress my w^ounds and bandage my broken limbs, and at the end of ten days I slowly struo-crled back to life and consciousness. Still the Mexican authoi'- ities were ignorant of my existence. Should they learn it, what would be my fate? Perhaps to be honorably treated as a prisoner of war, perhaps to be murdered at sight. It would depend entirely on the first officer who took charge of me. So many are the castes among these people, and so great the difference between different clans, that with one the prisoner is treated as a guest, while by another he is butchered like a wild beast. But I was for the present safe, and in time took up the clew of my past life, and followed it down to the last moment of consciousness — slowly, painfully, as the wounded hunter drags his bleeding limbs towards home, with many halts and stumblings. The old life was gone ; the new life had grown up with Dolores, for such, she told me, was her name. I seemed to have nothing I did not owe to her, and for the present it was enough to live and love. She taught me her language more perfectly, though we scarcely needed it ; and the days of convalescence passed as a brief dream. "At length I was able to leave the cabin, and, leaning upon the arm DOLORES. 75 of Dolores, ^valked to a projecting rock, which commanded a view of the Mora pass. Then my past life seemed renewed, as familiar thoughts were excited by the scenery. But Dolores was now my arbiter. Of her people I knew little ; for her religion I cared nothing. It was hers, therefore it could not be bad. Doubtless it was true as any other. I smiled at the Protestant prejudices of my youth; I gazed into the radiant eyes of Dolores, and thought the old world mad that all its religious differences had not yielded to the potent solvent of love. Our love came unbidden. We thouglit not of the morrow; we made no declarations ; we simply understood each other. But as we sat upon the rocky point, sometimes exchanging a word, but oftener in silent bliss, we saw a moving cloud of dust rise from the pass far below, and had just time to gain a point secluded from observation when a cavalcade came into full view. Imagine my horror when I saw my old companions, and with them fifty more Americans, toiling wearily through the dust and heat, bound elbow to elbow, and urged on by the mounted Mexicans, w4io laughed and jeered at the captives. I was mad with rage, but what could one do against so many? With tearful eyes I watched them out of sight beyond the rock El Sentinel, then turned with a fierce determination to hasten northward and brino; relief. Dolores met me with a smile, tinged w^ith a shade of sadness. It was enough. I easily found excuse for inaction. Again was the repub- lic forgotten, again the eternal rights of man seemed of minor impor- tance. I was happy here. What need of dwelling on the past? Why take such heavy thoughts for the future? Love is a radically selfish passion. Waking, I counted the moments till she should return ; sleep- ing, her image glided through my dreams. By day she smiled upon me in the landscape; by night she beamed upon me from the starry skies. " The summer was now far advanced ; hot days were followed by dew- less nights, and the grass was dried upon the ground. A new danger confronted us. Dolores only made her daily visit from the hacienda to the cabin at constant risk of attracting attention to my hiding-place; she now announced with sobs that the season had come when the Pueblos must remove the herds. Her father would return from the capital; if I remained at the cabin, it must be at daily and hourly risk. Her father was a cahallcro, she said, brave and generous ; but he was above all a Mexican. Duty and inclination alike would lead him to surrender me. His servants were doubtful. The few Pueblos she could trust; the j)Cons never. " It Avas a rude awakeuino;. All that calm afternoon we discussed 76 WESTERN WILDS. our situation, at one moment mingling our tears, tlie next elate with firm determination. A seore of plans I proposed Avere in turn re- jected. To regain American territory Avas simply impossible. The irregular war with the Texans continued, and the country between us and the Arkansas was swarming with scouts. Every point was guarded. Starvation was possible, capture certain, death probable. My late companions were now languishing in Mexican dungeons; those who lived to return home would jjrobably do so with broken health. Death Avould certainly overtake many of them in ])rison. From such a ftite she prayed the Virgin to deliver me. Hour after hour passed; I Avould do or dare aught for her; but to fly now wa? to lose her forever. At last she sjDoke : " ' Gomez is our hope. He is not a j^con, but a free Pueblo. Many years absent from his toA^^n, he is bound to no cacique. Far to the west are other Pueblos who owe no duty to the Mexican Republic ; but between them and ours there is a friendship. Once they had a common ruler, and long kept the sacred fires burning for him. Gomez will guide you to that people. In any of those pueblos you are safe. Stay till there is peace Avith the Tejanos; then return, and .' Her light smile changed to a deep blush. " ' May the Virgin bless and protect you ! Every night I shall look upon the star that rises earliest aboA^e the peak Avhere I first saw your face. In one year I feel that you Avill return — one year. Oh, Santa Maria, is it eternity?' "*No, to the young and ardent it is long; but it Avill pass at last.' "'Now, go to rest; and as soon as Gomez can supply his place among the vacqueros, enter upon the journey. To hira can I intrust my chief treasure.' " Three nights after, as I lay asleep, Gomez touched me, and said in Spanish: 'The senorita Avaits; Ave start in an hour.' Down the sharp canon, and out upon the Avestern plain Ave found the animals tied ready for us, and in a little grove of algodones beyond the hacienda I met Dolores. Need I recount our parting. It Avas a short, delicious agony. I held her to my heart as Ave exchanged voAvs of eternal constancy ; then, pix^ssing kiss after kiss upon her lips, I hurried aAvay — for I kncAV not Avhat — in my ear her jjarting Avords, ' May all the saints Avatch OA'^er my love.' "Hastily crossing the narrow valley and ascending the slope Avest of it, at daylight Ave reached the first pueblo, the nominal home of Gomez, Avho maintained semi-allegiance to its cacique and fiscal ; DOLORES. 77 and in its shaded recesses Ave remained for the day. The chief men conversed readily in Sj^anish ; but, among themselves, they spoke a language of which I could not catch a syllable. Nor is it known to the Mexicans, even to the interpreters who speak the tongues of all the wild tribes. They conduct all their trades in Spanish, and ex- clude Mexicans as much as possible from their towns. There is evidence that these people were once far more numerous than now, as the country was far more fertile. Conquered by the Spaniards nearly three centuries since, they revolted and with desperate bravery expelled or exterminated their conquerors. But, in 1690, a new and more powerful Spanish army reconquered the province ; the Quiros Tagnos, and kindred tribes submitted sullenly to the Spanish yoke, but the more warlike retreated to the defensible valleys and walled basins of the Sierra Madre Eange, and maintained a fierce inde- pendence. It was to those we were bound. Those near the Rio Grande, compelled to give up their Montezumas religion and become nominal Catholics, still held to many features of their ancient faith, and long cherished plans of revolution and vengeance. But time, which reconciles us to all things, had now led them to acquiesce in the political control of the Spanish race, though they tenaciously resisted all social intercourse, and maintained their own line of priesthood and a distinct language. "By the advice of Gomez, I here stained my face, hands, and arms with a pigment, which gave them color like that of the Pueblos ; and the next night we crossed the Rio Grande, as it was well for us to avoid observation till we left that neighborhood. After another halt at Jemez, near the wonderful Hot Springs, we hastened on to Dead Man's Canon and crossed into the land of the Navajoes. These Indians hung upon the slopes of the Sierra Madre, a living threat to the Mexican settlements. They waged a war, never intermitted for two^ hundred years after their fierce ancestors Avere driven from the fertile valleys and forced to find subsistence and refuge amid the secluded canons and on the storm-swept mesas of the mountains. In- genious, brave, and haughty, they called the Mexicans ' their herders,' and robbing Avithout quite ruining the dAvellers in the valley, they took tribute alternately from different settlements, leaving time be- tween raids for the sufferers to rencAV their stock and gather wealth for future forays. But now a precarious peace existed, and each Mexican hamlet secured protection by purchasing the friendship of some Navajo chieftain. " For the first two days of travel, I hung upon the neck of my 78 WESTERN WILDS. little burro, weak in body and sad at recent parting; but soon fresh air and exercise^ ^vitll change of scene, brought new life, and I felt a strange interest in the people we encountered. We passed hot deserts, glistening with sand and alkali ; broad plateaus of bare sandstone, and occasionally green dells or wooded coves, where the natural beauty, by contrast Avith surrounding barrenness, awakened emotions of keen delight. Sometimes we jogged on for hours over a bare flat, then from the rocky rim walling an ancient basin descended to the beds of lakes long since dry, to find in the center and lowest depressions rich natural meadows or sullen pools, bordered by a few sickly cotton woods. We traversed wild gorges, where from every side red precipices frowned upon yellow sands; we crossed sandy wastes where glittered quartz-crystals, garnets, and flakes of mica, and saw upon the scarred peaks the awful evi- dences of a thousand cosmic convulsions. AVe passed amid bands of savage men, who grew gentle at our approach, after a few words or signs from Gomez; and traveled for days along a valley strewn with the ruins of abandoned towns. Again we turned to the hills, crossed the lowest divide of the Sierra Madre, and traveled on over sterile flats and treeless, grassless mesas. It seemed a land accursed of God and forgotten of civilized men, where only hunt- ers and herdsmen could wring a scant subsistence from unwilling nature; a land which even the all-grasping Spaniard did not covet, but left as a refuge for those who could not give him gold for blood, and would not yield the sweat of unpaid toil for his religion. " Beyond the last range of the Sierra Madre we descended to the canon of the Colorado Chiquito, rose again to the ]\resa Calabasa, and again cautiously threaded a defile down to an oval basin some thirty miles in width, dotted with little oases rich in native grasses. In the center of this vale Gomez pointed out the goal of our hopes. A sharp viesa rose abruptly from the plain, and on its summit were the Moqui towns. A few friendly Navajoes had accompanied us, for there was a temporary peace between them and their fierce neighbors, the Apaches. Rushing down the rocky paths with wild cries, the Moquis came to the foot of the mesa in disorder and apparent anger at our approach ; but a few words from Gomez reas- sured them, and I was conducted up the winding way by which alone the place is accessible, and led into the presence of their chief. He received me with civil dignity, assigned me a house, for many were vacant, and in a few days I was as much at home with these strange people as if I had been there for years. The DOLORES. 79 Capital!, as their chief man was called, sought to cheer the hours, as far as his simple pleasures and uneventful life could interest me^ and as I^ grew to understand the people, tliey were a strange study to me. The government, if government it might be called, was a pure paternalism ; but repression was unnecessary, because crime could scarcely be said to exist. " At last, said I, the Brotherhood of Man is found. Here is no scheming of man to supplant his fellow; here all are equal, and obedience to natural law, M-ith mutual toleration, takes the place of courts and statutes. But I soon saw that in parting with most of the fliults of a progressive race, they had parted with many of its virtues and all of its advantages. There was no envy, for there was no emulation ; the weak were not trodden down by the strong in a struggle for place, for there was no struggle. There was no'' caste, for there was neither rank nor wealth; a dead level of social medi- ocrity took the place of our many distinctions in birth or condition. They had not the petty vices of a trading i)eople, as they had little in- tercourse with the rest of mankind ; nor the faults of a manufacturing town, for every family Avas its own manufacturer. Political strife never disturbed them, for there was no choice as to the form of gov- ernment, and no energy to change the ruler. The Capitan did not rob his people, for they had nothing worth his taking ; the people did not envy their king, for he was poor as themselves. Luxury and its attendant vices they knew not— their land sufficed but for a bare existence ; and unchastity was so rare as to be looked upon as a monstrous phenomenon. But their chastity resulted from a lack of aggressive energy, and a sexual coldness with which kind nature ever blesses an illy nourished and decaying race. No military am- bition disturbed the placid current of their lives; they scarcely knew how to defend themselves against their savage neighbors, and retir- ing to these rock-defended flistnesses, had left the open country to their foes. "Then I saw that energy is evolved only in conflict; that a vigor- ous combat with evil develops the individual, and that a state from which ambition should be banished to leave the citizen free from conflict, would be a state in which moral vigor would in turn decay, and social stagnation, as a living tomb, swallow up tlie proudest prod- ucts of the march of mind. With these people one day passed as another. Whether they had a belief in immortality I could never learn ; but they might well ignore it, since even in this world they were dead already. Beyond the narrow horizon of tlieir hills, they 80 WESTFAiN WILDS. saw nothing; tin's basin was to them the world. Ambition had no place in their dull emotions, and though central to a do/cn warring tribes, they were simple, civil and unwarlike. "One year I abode with these people. It was rest; but for a life- time — ah, that would be consignment to a living tomb! But Gomez returned, and with a message from Dolores. There was peace at last ; the captive Tejanos had been released, and I might safely return. The journey was a long reverie of delightful anticipation. The meet- ing I leave you to imagine. But all was not well; Colonel AVarfield and his brave companions had been released, and many Americans were coming into Santa Fe ; but the Mexican authorities felt that peace was temporary, and armed parties still hovered along the front- ier. AVe scarcely seemed nearer the fruition of our hopes, and months of weary waiting were yet before us. Her father — but I need not tell you of Castilian pride. He was of the gcnte fna of New Mexico, and, boasting of his saugrc azul, an alliance with an unknown foreigner would have seemed to him worse than her death. I urged immediate flight; that we would seek the States, and there remain till permanent peace should allow us to return and settle in IMexico, as I hojied — after the manner of sanguine youth — we might soon do with the wealth that I should earn. I abode at the adjacent pueblo, and as often as possible saw and conferred with Dolores, never failing to urge immediate flight. I need not recount the progress I made, if you know aught of the female heart. She yielded, and in the midst of all my distractions and uncertainties, I thought myself the happiest of men. We were to set out the first opportunity. The distance was great, and no guide to be had. In vain I sought for one in the pueblo; the honest fellows shook their heads. In their own country, among their own people, they were at my service, but not among los Americanos, los diabolos Gringos ! AVe could not retreat from our project. Before a Pueblo priest we plighted our faith, and thus united in life and death, set out upon our northward route. One Pueblo accompanied us the first night and till noon the next day; then point- ing out our safest route — along the higher part of the plateau to avoid Mexican scouts — bade us farewell, and we were alone upon the iicrra iemplada. "The route led to a water-hole, where we paused exhausted, and remained till midnight. Thence we rose to a dim trail higher up the rocky slope, and toiled on till late next afternoon, when fiitigue and fear for our animals again compelled us to stop. A long rest, and then on to the next pool, which we reached late at night, and soon DOLORES. 81 sank into a profound sleep. When we awoke late next morning, the scene had changed. A dense mist, rare at that season, hung upon the mountains, and heavy clouds drifted eastward over the plain. Never- theless, I marked what I thought the right course, and we traveled on. Before noon we were bewildered among the projecting ridges, where the trail was obscured upon the rocky flats, and ere long were completely lost. " Should we descend to the lower plain for a shorter route, or turn toward the mountains to be sure of grass and water? I determined to continue a due north course as far as possible, trusting either to come again upon the trail, or find water in some of the limestone 'pockets,' which occur here and there even in the red sand hills. By noon the water in the canteens I had provided was nauseating, having been almost stagnant when taken from the pool ; before the next morning it was all gone, while our animals gave unmistakable signs of approaching exhaustion. Still we pressed on. It was now mid August, and the hot, dry season was at its worst. The bunch-grass was dried to a coppery hue, and though it nourished our animals, they must have water also. The stinging plants and thorny cactus con- stantly impeded our way, and we soon came to regard the broad flats of bare rock as a glad relief. But water, water we must have. 1 was then too ignorant of wood-craft to know that in the Rockv Mountains one hunts up-hill for water instead of down upon t^s plain ; and felt keenly my need of that sixth sense wherewith thfi Indian and plainsman can discern the locality of a brook or pool by the appearance of surrounding hills or vegetation. "Night drew on. There was a dead calm and oppressive air. The animals at length refused to move a step further, and I had barely time to spring from my saddle and receive her, when Dolores fainted in my arms. For a moment my agony was terrible — the agony at once of fear and indecision. But in a moment " boi.okes fainted in my arms." fierce energy returned; I raised her, recalled her to consciousness, and now leading, now carrying her, toiled up and over the rocks to the mouth of a gorge that opened upon the side of a precipice a thousand feet above. Why, I scarcely knew, but had a vague hope of protection and rest in the defile. Night came on suddenly, and its coolness greatly revived us. We had as yet suffered little with actual thirst, and when 6 82 WESTERN WILDS. our first trouble was passed, sank to sleep upon a sand-heap at the base of an immense rock. Soon after midnight we awoke stiff M'ith cold, and now beginning to feel the sharper prom])tings of thirst, I proposed to search for water down the canon, but on turning we saw our animals, like us revived by the night air, slowly making their way up the dry arroyo, as if they would seek relief near its head. Some- thing in this manifestation of instinct decided me. The arroyo showed plainly that at some seasons it contained a large stream ; might there not remain a little near its source? " For hours we toiled on up the dry channel, soon leaving the animals far behind; now stumbling over the immense stones which choked the dry bed, and now searching every clump of grass that showed the faintest tinge of green. The sun rose red and fiery, the air was filled with light haze, and another sultry day began. But with every hour's advance new signs encouraged us : there were clumps of dwarfish pines, and occasionally a shrub of other timber ; the grass in places had an unmistakably green tinge, and occasional tracks showed that various small animals habitually made this passage. But every moment our thirst increased. I glanced at Dolores; her eyes gleamed with that unwholesome fire which is the precursor of delirium. I felt my own head grow giddy; my eyes were so dry it seemed I could feel the balls grate as they turned in their sockets; my tongue was swollen, my lips cracked, and I spoke with difficulty. Hastily seeking the shade of an immense rock, I broke some splinters from a mountain pine ; these, rolled about in the mouth, soon created a moist- ure, which sensibly relieved our sufferings, and again we toiled on. " It was now noon. The hot sun glared upon the white sand and red rocks, and our sufferings rapidly increased. Almost exhausted, I hap- pened to turn my gaze down the canon, and saw our animals fiir below, still feebly struggling up the ascent. The sight gave me renewed hope, and, with fierce energy, I rushed from side to side of the gorge, seareh- 'ing every spot that bore signs of the presence of moisture ; but in vain. An hour longer we toiled on, then Dolores suddenly reeled, and sank, apparently lifeless, in my arms. With loud cries, I bore her hastily to the shade of a projecting rock; I chafed her hands, and implored her to look up and live. She revived, only to relapse into a half-dead condition, scarcely sensible of my presence, but babbling in Spanish of green fields and the cool brooks about her home. I pressed her to my heart, and prayed that death might come at once and end our in- tolerable sufferings. An hour passed thus, then suddenly we seemed to revive again — Dolores with alternate sobs and hysterical laughter, DOLORES. 83 and I with renewed determination to push on. Soon we sank into half-unconsciousness, and again revived as suddenly, but with all the pangs of thirst and fatigue greater than before. Slowly this anguish receded, and we sank into a condition of almost complete exemjition from suffering, to again revive as suddenly to fiercer pangs. " But this time my vision seemed strangely cleared. The agony yielded to a dull pain, that left me power to think. I saw all the beauties of the landscape in a new light, and gazed on them with act- ual interest, while I pitied and blamed myself for such a feeling. I saw a mountain bluebird flit rapidly over the gorge, and wondered where he was flying and what for; then laughed loud and long at my- self for such untimely curiosity. I noticed a hillock of the desert ants near me, from which the red nation was pouring by hundreds, and a sand-toad near them ; then I remembered that these creatures avoid damp spots, where water is liable to percolate, and again the wild gorge rang with my fierce laughter at their strange habits. I saw a lean coyote steal across the canon below us, and wondered what he was doing so far up in the hills, and why he had not remained on the plains, as usual, and whether he was lost and hunting for water; then the absurdity of this conceit struck me, and I made what I thought a very witty jest at his leanness, and laughed at my own wit till the canon rang again. Suddenly I came to myself, and stared around me ; then my gaze fell on Dolores, lying full length upon the sand, and breathing heavily, and all my fierce energy returned. I raised her with unnatural strength, fairly bounded up the caiion several rods, and laid her at the foot of another rock. Again and again I repeated this, one moment kissing her lips and vowing to save her, the next laughing at my temporary fits of strength. At last I laid her in a cool depres- sion at the foot of a cliff*, which seemed to have been split by some convulsion, and, for a space, relapsed iftto insensibility. " When I revived, the cool night had come again, and Dolores was sitting by me, clasping my hand. Such was the reviving effect of the night air, now sweeping down the canon with a strong breeze, that we were greatly refreshed, and, after a sad, sweet interchange of thought, sank into a troubled sleep. Again we waked suddenly, almost at the same moment, and again the pangs of thirst were ujjon us in all their fury. Nature has still some mercy, even at her worst, and though a man die in torture, for want of food or drink, she secures him intervals of perfect rest from pain. But ftow our sufferings were at their worst. Mere abstinence from water for two days would not have produced such effects, but for our continued exertions. The cold night air pre- 84 WESTERN WILDS. vented delirium. I put out my hand to assure Dolores of my presence^ M-hen — was it possible? Did I feel an actual moisture at the base of tlie cliif, or was it only the cold, dry sand? Fiercely I scratched away the first few inches of the loose surface — eagerly I thrust my fingers into the packed dirt and gravel, and tore my nails digging beside the rock. Yes, it Avas unmistakable; there icas moisture there, and somewhere above it there was water ! "New life animated me. I followed the line of moisture alonjr the base of the rock; it suddenly ceased, and my heart stood still. An in- stant more, and I perceived that I had passed the immense fissure which split the cliff; in it I again found \\\c moist trace. I followed it a few rods, and perceived that the formation had changed to limestone. Joy overcame me. I screamed aloud, and burst into tears. Every yard that I advanced up the fissure the earth grew more moist. Presently I could squeeze a few dirty drops from a handful into my mouth. Great Jupiter! Was Olympian nectar ever so sweet? A few rods more and there w^s dank green grass, its matted roots sodden with mud and water. Eagerly I sucked the divine fluid, then tore up a few handfuls and hastened with it to Dolores. Squeezing the scant drops into her mouth, and spreading the grass roots upon her brow, I soon had the exquisite joy of seeing her raise her head and smile. I took her in my arms and bore her to the damp grass-plat; then, foot by foot, on our knees, we searched the narrow ravine. Soon we came to where a few tiny drops trickled over a mossy stone. With our lips pressed to the rock, we drew new life from it. For an hour we alternately sucked at this source, and cheered each other — she calling upon the Virgin, and blessing all the saints by turns, I rejoicing at the happy operations of nature which gave us water in this strange place. " Our worst tortures past, fatigue again conquered us. AVe sank into a sound sleep, and did not wake till the morning light fell upon our faces. I then saw that the line of green grass continued up the nar- row gorge, and, following it for two hours, we came upon a pool of cold, clear water. Did you ever, after hours of toil across the desert, come upon one of those lime-rock springs, which alone make life possi- ble in the far South-west? If so, you know their wonderful beauty; you can imagine our joy. Around were the yellow and striped mount- ains, seamed and scarred as if by a million years of storm and light- ning; below, the cliff-walled caiion, now filled with the hot and stag- nant air of mid-day, and beyond it the dry sands and treeless desert. Here was a cool spring, central to a little oasis, where the bright fluid bubbled forth from the earth, and dripped o'er the rocks in tiny, cool DOLORES. 85 rivulets — where rank, green grass hung over the brim of the pool, and strange, bright flowers spoke of life, and love, and hope. "A day's rest was imperative, and as soon as possible I filled my can- teens and hastened back to find our horses. They had toiled on till morning; then one had fallen exhausted, while the otlier had halted in the shadow of a cliff, barely able to stand. A canteen full of watei-, M'hich he drank from my Mexican sombrero, greatly revived him, l)ut the other was past hope. I succeeded in getting the one to tlie mouth of the gorge, and after a dozen trips for water, he was so far restored as to graze upon the bunch-grass. Next morning we set out again, now with but one horse, and late the next night, having found the trail, reached the water-hole, which was to have been our stopping place the day we were lost. There we again rested a day, which so far restored the animal that he was able to carry Dolores and our little stock of jDrovisions, as fast as I could walk beside him. Again we journeyed on, turning aside at night into a caiion, and keeping near the base of the mountains by day. Once past the divide of the tierra tan- plada and upon the slopes leading down to the Arkansas, water-holes could be found three or four times every day. Our progress was now encouragingly rapid, and in due time we turned the last point on the mountain trail, and with a glad shout hailed the yellow Arkansas. Another day, and we should be on American soil ; the land would be better watered, my gun would supply us with game, and we might trav- el more leisurely. " We turned eastward and down to the plain, i I J.1 • "the balls \\li.feTLED AROUND US." to reach the main cross- ing on the Santa Fe trail, and late the next day, while our hearts beat high with satisfaction, descended to the sandy border of the Ar- kansas. A shout was borne to our ears from the heights behind, and turning, we saw a party of mounted Mexicans rapidly nearing us. For an instant our hearts stood still with fear; the next I bounded on the horse in front of Dolores, and urged him fiercely forward. I remembered with agony that I had no traders' permit from the Spanish authorities, and could give no plausible explanation of my condition; capture might mean death, it would certainly mean loss of Dolores. Soon we were in the middle of the stream, at that 86 WESTERN WILDS, season not too deep for fording; but our pursuers gained fast upon us. As we ncared the American shore they reached the opposite bank, and with a yell of rage at being foiled, discharged a volley from their scoupetas. The balls whistled around us; I only noted that the animal did not fall, then spurred him on, and in another moment he scrambled up to the northern bank, and we w^ere safe upon American soil. '* Safe ! Oh, merciful powers, why had ^VQ- not an hour more in the start? Why had we come safely through such perils only to part when our haven was won ? Dolores' arm tightened about my waist — she did not speak. I turned with a glad smile, a word of love and cheer upon my lips. She was deadly pale, and I had barely time to dismount, when she fliinted in my arms. A shot had entered her gjrlp 5}; ^ ^ ^ >K 5K " But anguish was unavailing. There was no time for regrets. Cold water, rest and shade were imperative. Clasping her in my arms, I bounded up the rocks, and laid her by a little pool at the foot of the cliif. I dashed the water upon her face and loosed her clothing. She revived: " ' Holy Virgin, spare him, guide and protect him.' " There was no word for herself. Then starting up fiercely : " ' The padre ! The padre ! Bring the padre ! ' she exclaimed. Then recollecting : ' No, it is too late ! too late ! ' " My agony was terrible. I wrung her hands, and implored her to live. My wife, my dear wdfe, wdth whom I had shared so many perils, who had saved my life; must she lose her own by following me? must she die here when we were beyond danger? " She soon revived and gave me hope. For a few moments we con- versed, and a thrill of delight shook my frame when she spoke and smiled. But it was brief She felt no pain ; her hurt was unto death. Soon her eye grew dim. She drew a small crucifix from her bosom, and held it before her face, while she clasped my hand. Her glazing eve was fixed upon the emblem: " ' Oh, Sancta 3Iaria ! — ra — pro — no — bis / ' " I took her in my arms. She glanced at me — speechless, with an ineffable smile— pointed upward, and was gone. * * It was night, but I still held her in my arms. I could not consent. I would not have it so ; she was mine ; I would not yield her to death. * * * Then, laying her on the grass, I raved, prayed and cursed by turns. " Morning found me still there, but exhausted. The first fierce agonv of grief had yielded to a dull pain, which seemed unending. DOLORES.