My pet had followed in our track
"My pet had followed in our track, and was actually assisting us to rescue ourselves."—Page 154.
Strangely enough, since the moment in which we had first found ourselves captives and were marched away in the fashion I have above described, no thought of Grizzly's absence from my side had ever crossed my mind. His memory had however been better than mine. Perhaps, when all circumstances are fairly considered, it had some reason for being so.
After a very brief struggle, the wholly unexpected assault of their three prisoners, and their four-footed or four-handed ally, on the red devils, resulted in a complete victory.
The yet living Indians cleared out, leaving us masters of the field. As the day was now gradually breaking, we were enabled to count the dead, and exercise a proprietary right in their scalps. What was of much more advantage to myself, I was enabled to recapture nearly the whole of my stolen property, as well as a number of guns, corresponding with that of the dead, which necessarily changed hands.
Eight of the scoundrels would have no more chance of troubling their white brethren.
This enumeration includes the one whom Charley had so considerately squeezed out of this life, very much, as Butch' afterwards remarked—
"As a younker squeezes a ripe orange."
It was late in the afternoon, when we arrived again at my cabin. Upon entering the hole in the snow which led to it, we found Harry Arnold, Ben Painter, and many of the boys there. They had preceded our coming by some twenty minutes. The footprints visible on the outside of my dwelling, as well as the thoroughly emptied condition of its interior, had readily given them a thorough apprehension of our condition. When wereturned, they were on the point of preparing to follow on the trail of the red savages.
Of course, we had to relate our adventures since the preceding night. This, however, did not take long, as the demands of famished nature were too exacting. We had tasted neither bite nor sup since noon on the preceding day.
I may here state, that much to the mortification of Butch' and Brighton Bill, as well as somewhat to my own, it became evident that the Rangers considered my young Grizzly as the real hero of the occasion. Indeed, Painter proposed to give him a horn of old Rye, and would have done so, had I not peremptorily forbidden it, not only on the score of its possible effects upon his innocent inside, but also because our stock of that necessary article was getting very low.
After our meal, which I ate ravenously, and presume the two who had been my fellow-captives did the same, "Long" Dorsey (he stood six feet two, in his stockings) and Lute Spencer arrived. Some minutes after, we heard a voice whistling the familiar tune "Joe Bowers." This was "small" Tom Harvey, who had lingered in their rear. Seeing they had entered without exciting any commotion within the cabin, he concluded no Indians were in the immediate neighborhood. Otherwise, he would undoubtedly have refrained from allowing his lips this exercise.
We were told by Lute Spencer that they had paused at Bob Thorn's cabin by the way. He was more generally known by his intimates and associates as Dirty Bob.
"The place war gutted, as you say yours war," continued Lute, "and Bob war nowhere."
"The red devils had been there," added Dorsey. "We counted the tracks of some ten of them."
Fatigued as I was, I at once proposed starting for Bob's cabin. The memory I have already alluded to, gave me a sharp twinge of commiseration for any unlucky fellow who might be treated to a similar phase of personal experience.
Lots of Pluck—One of the Rangers Killed—Thinking of a Brother—Taking a Good Position—Loss of Hair, and what the Red-skins think of it—"Captain Jack's" or the Modoc Country—"Captain Jack's" Stronghold—On Our Way Back—Signal-fires and Some Strategy—Half a Hundred Scalps for One—The Pah-utes on the Warpath—Fishing for the Dead—The White Flag—Washo Bravery.
Lots of Pluck—One of the Rangers Killed—Thinking of a Brother—Taking a Good Position—Loss of Hair, and what the Red-skins think of it—"Captain Jack's" or the Modoc Country—"Captain Jack's" Stronghold—On Our Way Back—Signal-fires and Some Strategy—Half a Hundred Scalps for One—The Pah-utes on the Warpath—Fishing for the Dead—The White Flag—Washo Bravery.
Bob's location was at some thirty miles' distance from my cabin, and we arrived there, shortly after the dazzling rays of the morning sun were blindingly increased in strength by the reflection from the snow.
Spencer and Dorsey had told us the bare fact. Butch', however, had a keener nose than they apparently possessed.
"Dirty Bob fit well for it," he said, after glancing through the cabin. "Some of the red skunks war hurt, and no mistake. He al'ays had lots o' pluck."
He was unmistakably right. There were marks of blood on the hard soil of the floor. But, whether the soaked in and dead crimson had once run in his veins or those of his Indian enemies, remained to be seen. We almost at once struck their trail, which led through the forest, beyond the spot he had selected for his hunting-ground. This we followed, for something more than six miles. The track was by no means an easy one, rising and falling, broken up by rocks and intersected with the stumps of fallen trees. In short, it was one which none of the delicate nurslings of city civilizationwould have cared about following, even for the purpose of pulling trigger at their first live venison, and, of necessity, missing it.
Arnold and Painter were in advance.
The fatigue of the past two days and night had kept me somewhat in the rear of the party, with Butch' and "Fatty."
Painter uttered a savage oath.
We ran up to him. He and Arnold were standing close to the body of poor Bob. His knife, smeared with dried or frozen blood, was still clenched in the hands of the corpse, which was frightfully mutilated. It had also been scalped. Evidently, his death had been the result of a vigorous struggle to escape; for the snow on which he was lying was crushed in and trodden down in every direction; while a young tree had been torn from its roots by the force with which some one had fallen against it. Glancing at Ben Painter, I saw that his teeth were set tightly together, and his under lip, which his beard permitted me to see, was rigid and almost blue. I took him by the hand and squeezed it.
"I war thinking of my brother."
This was all he said, as we continued upon the trail.
From this point, it could very readily be followed. The marks of blood were visible enough all along it. One or more of the red-skins had been wounded. In about half a mile further, the road became easier and the trees were more scattered. Arnold, who was still in front with Painter, and Brighton Bill, had sighted what they supposed to be a dead Indian.
"Here's one of them," cried Arnold.
Scarcely had he uttered this than, wounded as he was, the savage leapt to his feet and ran. His strength,however, only availed him for a short spurt. He again dropped, and, while on the ground, drew his bow. The arrow struck Bill on the left arm, making a slight flesh wound. But before the red devil could discharge another, Ben Painter was up with him, and the knife he had drawn was buried in his heart. On examining the dead body, we discovered the wound Bob had inflicted on its side. Blood was still slowly oozing from it.
From this point, the trail diverged towards the Lower Klamath Lake. We followed on it as rapidly as possible, passing Shasta Mountain, until we arrived at Fall River. Beyond this stream lies the country, which is the stronghold of the Modoc and Pit-River tribes.
It is certainly a fitting section to have such an appellation applied to it.
Throughout, it is covered with natural fortifications. Huge rocks rise from the earth, varying from two hundred to three hundred and fifty feet in height. A single precipitous and narrow path, sometimes natural, not unfrequently fashioned by the Modocs or their tributaries, the Pit-River Indians, who are by no means as warlike, leads to the top of these. Here, in many cases, the summit is defended by a breastwork. In the beds of lava, for this part of the country has formerly been volcanic, you will also occasionally come upon a triangle of rocks, from four to six feet in height, with a steep cavity in their centre, large enough in every case to admit a man, and frequently much larger. The reasons of these curious formations I leave to more inquiringly scientific minds than my own. They are certainly too numerous, as well as now too low, to be supposed the series of small craters from which lava formerly flowed.
Even in saying this, I feel I am getting beyond my depth.
Let me, therefore, confine myself to the details of actions which I am assuredly able to speak of, from the mere fact that I very decidedly took part in them.
We had followed the Modocs as far as Battle Creek.
Here, knowing the situation they intended to trap us into, we halted for two days, in order to give ourselves some rest, and enable a portion of the Rangers whom our speed had outstripped to catch up with us.
On the second day we consulted together for a long time. This council was the first in which my advice had not been immediately taken by the Rangers, without any opposition.
It was, that we should make what a military tactician would call a feint.
In other words, we should seem to retire as if we did not dare to carry the pursuit any further. During the succeeding night we might return, and, under its cover, secure one of the best positions in the section of country immediately beyond Fall River.
Harry Arnold and Lute Spencer decidedly objected to this. They asserted that it would be the first time in which we had ever backed from any number of the "darned red skunks." Many of the others agreed with them, amongst whom were Butch' and "Fatty."
Painter, however, greatly to my surprise, in the teeth of their opposition, took my side of the question, as did Brighton Bill. Laying his broad hand on my shoulder, the latter said:
"The Cap's more nor 'arf ha Hinjun. Hi'll be blamed hif 'e hisn't right!"
At length we carried the day, and broke up our campon the following morning. Upon the same night we returned, moving with the greatest silence and caution, securing a position admirably adapted for my purpose. Part of the Rangers took possession of one of the natural forts which commanded an area of some two hundred yards in width. The rest of us were posted in a series of the triangular pits opposite this position. Their duty was similar to that of sharpshooters, although I may say not a single Ranger would have been unfit for such a duty, or would have failed in it.
It was a little after daybreak, when we first caught sight of a party of the Modocs. These counted barely ten. They had evidently come out to see whether we had quitted our late position by Battle Creek.
Nothing was to be seen of us. The Creek was visible. Consequently returning, they halted immediately between the rock on which part of our number were encamped and the rifle-pits opposite. From this spot they despatched a runner to warn the remainder of the red-skins. So far, everything had worked rightly. In some twenty minutes more fifty or sixty of the remaining Modocs had joined their scouting party.
They were together, some pointing in the direction they supposed us to have taken, and others talking, it may be presumed, on the wisdom of following us, when I gave the word.
We all had Sharp's carbines. Indeed, these were our invariable fighting weapons. Throwing in cartridge after cartridge, we kept up an almost continuous fire. Those who escaped our balls, scattered in every possible direction.
Forty-three of the red-skins had been slain.
After taking their scalps, we started off in the direction of Pit River.
Here, possibly, the reader may feel some shrinking horror at the constant repetition made by me, of this, to his mind, unpleasantly barbaric proceeding. Let him remember that the unscalped Indian is supposed, by his red brethren, to hold a higher rank in the Happy Hunting Grounds of his belief than the one who has lost his hair. He will then form some idea of the reason for which the white ranger or scout invariably scalps the red-skin who has fallen under his ball.
When we were near old Fort Crook, a signal-fire was seen, far to our left.
Having advised with Arnold, he and Bill ascended the mountain nearest us, to answer it from that point. Crossing the valley to the further side, I repeated the answering signal from the opposite hill. Then, passing the low "divide" or range of insignificantly steep ground between Pit and Fall Rivers, we once more started a signal-fire, on the highest point we could find.
All that seemed at the moment left for us to do, was to conceal ourselves and wait what might next turn up. While hidden, Brighton Bill touched my arm.
"Hi'm blamed hif the red rascals harn't hat hit hagain."
His eyes had been quicker than mine or any of the rest of us. Another signal had been kindled on a large bald or bare mountain on our left, and slightly in our rear. Butch' was sent to a hill lying some half of a mile to our right, to answer this. He was one of the quietest scouts amongst the Rangers; and saying this, is paying him a high compliment, when all of us had learnt to be so apt and ready. He had been, on this occasion,selected by me, because the last signal-fire had ignited so near to us, that caution and care were absolutely necessary in him who replied to it, to prevent any detection of the white man who might be employed to kindle it. We waited for his reply some time. Almost immediately after it was seen by us, the smoke from an answer to it was seen upon a low hill to the right of our ambuscade. There was certainly no possibility of mistaking the meaning of this signal. It was an inquiry whether the friends who had so kindly answered them were "on our trail?"
We were waiting for Hasbrouck to come back, when we saw in the gathering gloom the crimson light of another signal-fire, farther up the valley.
Without coming back for new orders, Butch' had exercised his own judgment. He had displayed his rapidity of decision and accuracy of calculation, in what he had done.
He had not yet returned when I saw a party of Indians, numbering in all, from twenty to twenty-five, stringing, with great care and silence, up the valley. Quite unconscious of our ambush, they advanced right into it.
But, that the boys fired too soon, not a single one of the luckless red-skins would have escaped.
As it was, eight of them paid the penalty of having mistaken our signal-fires for those of their own friends. In almost a word, I may say that the slaughter of fifty-one Modocs had atoned for the death of our luckless associate, Bob Thorn.
His was the first name wiped out from the Buckskin Rangers, and, after we had punished the tribe which had taken his life, not unnaturally, his memorywas frequently recalled by most of us, with sorrow.
I was possibly the only one of the Rangers that remembered the close of his life, with something approaching pleasure. The dead man had been enabled by it, to escape that most horrible of dooms, as I was too well aware, the slow death at the stake.
About the end of February, we once more reached the settlement at the lower end of Honey Lake. We were enabled to carry with us a fair stock of skins, or as the traders call them, "peltry."
These we disposed of at a reasonable and remunerative figure. No sooner had we done so, than after a few days' idleness spent with friends and acquaintances, the larger part of us decided upon returning to our silver lodes upon the Humboldt River. The truth is, that during the past fall and winter, the report of our success in prospecting for ore in that locality, had spread far and wide. It had exercised the usual charm which the news of such a discovery invariably does. If we had delayed in the occupancy of our claims, we might, in the sequel, have found them a subject of dispute. The law of the mines is an unwritten one. Consequently, its strictness in some points is only equalled by its vagueness in others. Here our luck was various enough, but on the whole we fairly prospered. Nothing of particular account, however, presents itself for me to put on record, save the presence of my friends and his Grizzlyship, my now considerably large pet, Charley.
On returning from our life at these mines, we spent the whole of the following winter in the valley or at Susanville.
It would be useless to inquire into the reason of our doing so. Possibly we were lazy, or more probably had reaped too much profit from mining and trapping, during the past year. However, there were no Indian troubles that season. There may be an equal chance that this was the reason of our comparative inactivity.
The succeeding winter, that of 1861 and '62, will be remembered by all old Californians as one of the most severe which had ever occurred in that part of our country. The mountains were closed very early, so early, indeed, that few or none of the settlers in the up-lands had got in their winter supplies. They were actually shut in by the heavy snow-falls, from the possibility of doing so.
In addition to this trouble, our old enemies, the Pah-ute Indians, had again become restless.
Possibly, Uncle Sam had forgotten to purchase their forbearance. At any rate, they were again upon the war-path, for the purpose of stealing stock.
My first knowledge of this arose from the following occurrence:
A lame man, named Thomas Bear, was at this period keeping the Deep Hole Spring Station, on the Humboldt road. He chanced to be in the valley upon business, when some travellers from the Humboldt passed through it, on their way to Susanville. In passing Deep Hole, they had paused at the Station. It was to find it deserted and plundered of almost everything which an Indian would be likely to take. The floor was marked with numerous stains of blood, and there were unmistakable signs visible, which clearly told them a savage struggle had recently taken place there. Meeting Tom, they recounted these facts to him.
He had known me for some three years, and hunting me up—for if anywhere in this end of Honey Lake Valley, no man was very difficult to find,—asked me to accompany him to the Station, to discover what was the matter. The request was a natural one, and I at once complied with it.
From snow the roads were almost impassable, save on foot. I, nevertheless, set out with my lame companion on this pleasant tramp.
While resting during the night at George Laithrop's Ranch, as a matter of course, I explained the facts which induced me to accompany Bear. A young lad no more than sixteen years of age overheard me, and wished to go with us. In fact, he displayed such a determination to make a third in our party, that I could not refuse him.
"You must get a rifle from Laithrop," I said, when he asked me to take him with us.
"I've one of my own, and a Colt's six-mouthed barker, too," was his reply.
"If so, you can come with us."
On the next morning, we started again, Tom, the boy, and myself. Little trouble was anticipated by me from the red-skins, in spite of what Bear had heard. The road from the Humboldt was so constantly travelled over, and lay so much out of the usual line of their depredations, that I was almost disinclined to put full faith in the account which he had so implicitly accepted. Mud Spring Station had, however, been apparently abandoned, and we were compelled to push on to Smoke Creek without resting there. Next day, we rose early, and made the best speed we could, in the hope of reaching Deep Hole on the same night. Thiswas, however, in consequence of the depth of the snow in many places, impossible. We were forced to stop at Wall Springs. This was at six miles' distance from the point to which our steps were directed.
When, on the succeeding day, shortly after dawn, we arrived at the Station, we found that the travellers had told Tom nothing but the truth.
Nevertheless, on a thorough examination, I found that none of the provisions or blankets had been taken. Nothing but the guns and ammunition had been made away with. But for the marks of blood on the floor and in the doorway, it is more than probable Bear's suspicions might have been equally divided between the man he had left in charge of the Station and the red-skins.
As yet, nothing had been found inside the premises to indisputably settle the fact of the man's murder, or if he had been murdered, to prove how or by whom the outrage had been committed.
The snow in front of the house might possibly have offered some proof; but the feet of the party who had brought the news to Honey Lake, had effaced all such evidence, which might have been left on it. Some days had, to a certainty, elapsed. My life in the last few years had, however, taught me the two great Indian virtues, patience and persistence. Only half of our search was yet over.
I began to examine the grounds round the Station, and found, leading to one of the largest and deepest of the springs from which it has taken its name, the track of moccasins.
Getting a longlariat, which lame Tom had procured for me, I extemporized a hook from the hoop of an oldkeg, and with the line to which I had attached it, began fishing in the spring, for anything I might find in it.
Nor, was my search long unrewarded.
Shortly after, in dragging the bottom, my hook caught hold of something heavy. When we had raised it to the surface of the water, it proved to be a body. As I glanced at Bear, he said, with almost a groan:
"Sure enough, it's poor Dave."
The head of the murdered man had been split with a hatchet, and afterwards scalped. A fragment of rock had been tied to the body by the Pah-utes for the purpose of sinking it.
After we had interred it, as decently as we could, we proceeded tocachèthe blankets, provisions, and anything else which might be of value. All of the stock had been driven off, with the exception of a lame horse. This we took away with us, as, otherwise, it must have perished.
On our return, when we had reached the low Sand Hills at the foot of Smoke-creek Cañon, we saw eight or ten red-skins coming down the side of the mountain to the right of the track in front of us. Each of them carried a stick with a piece of white rag tied to it. In the hands of an Indian, a flag of any sort means fight, and we knew it. Our preparations were speedily made. Telling the boy to lead the horse and draw his revolver, I gave his rifle to Tom Bear, who had none, bidding him cover our rear. Then, before taking my place in front, an uncommon one for most generals, and only to be pardoned on account of the exceedingly restricted number of my army, I gave my directions to the boy. They were very simple. He was to follow after me, and not use his Colt, unless I fired—if necessitated to do so.
When all was settled satisfactorily, we steadily advanced.
Soon after, the Washos reached the road. So, at least, my lame friend afterwards said they were, and it appears probable, as ten Pah-utes to two whites and a boy, even if a tall one, would scarcely have been cowed so easily. They had drawn up on either side of the track, and attempted to induce us to stop. Pushing them right and left with my rifle, I paid no attention to this, and as soon as we had passed, faced round, bidding Tom to do the same, until we were out of the range of their arrows. None of them had fire-arms.
On reaching the cañon, instead of going through it, we crossed to the west side, in the view of preventing any risk of an ambush from them while we were in the defile. Had we exposed ourselves to this chance, and had they enough resolution to have availed themselves of it, their arrows would have told, while, unless they had incautiously uncovered themselves, there would have been exceedingly small risk of their losing any of their own party. Tom Bear was right. They very certainly could not have been Pah-utes.
We had no more trouble until we reached Laithrop's Ranch, which we did in as short a period as lame Tom and the still lamer quadruped could traverse the distance. Here, the lad who had accompanied us was to remain; and when I left him there, I was unable to refrain from giving him a few words of warm praise.
"You behaved very well, my boy, when you gave up your rifle, at once. If you obey orders so promptly now, some day you will be in a position to give them."
"I'm right glad, Captain Mose, to hear you tell me that."
As he said this, the young fellow flushed through his richly bronzed skin up to the very roots of his hair, with pleasure.
When I saw him, a somewhat sad and bitter reflection came over me. In the far West, self-reliance comes early as well as quickly. Manhood grows with action, not by years. How soon, life must rob him of the capacity of blushing at any such recognition of obedience.
There, amid the roughly hardy dwellers on the frontier, exertion rapidly blots out the modest valuation of our own merits. It, indeed, teaches a self-appreciation which frequently approaches the style of Bombastes, and which I have not uncommonly heard stigmatized as braggadocio.
This is, nevertheless, an unfair judgment. He who has to be ready for anything, whose energy and audacity have drawn him through difficulties and dangers his Eastern fellow-countryman never has been exposed to, will at times necessarily glorify his own pluck and endurance. And why should he not do so, having none around him who would be inclined to sing his praises, while they believe themselves equally or more gallant and plucky than he is?
Danger in the Air—The Choice of a Captain—An Effectual Sarcasm—Going Lame—"The Heathen Chinee"—A Military Engineer without a Commission—No Ventilation—Smothering like Rats in a Hole—The Monetary Surprise—Two Red-skins—Leaving their Guns Outside—Trapped—"The Heathen Chinee" once more—Some Quiet Talk.
Danger in the Air—The Choice of a Captain—An Effectual Sarcasm—Going Lame—"The Heathen Chinee"—A Military Engineer without a Commission—No Ventilation—Smothering like Rats in a Hole—The Monetary Surprise—Two Red-skins—Leaving their Guns Outside—Trapped—"The Heathen Chinee" once more—Some Quiet Talk.
The next two or three weeks passed, to all appearance, quietly enough. There was, however, an unpleasant feeling in Susanville and around Honey Lake, of danger in the air. Perhaps, this feeling was not wholly unpleasant. The Rangers had now been idle for a tolerably long time. That is to say, there had recently been no positive Indian troubles.
However, the Deep Hole Spring murder had sounded the preparatory note.
Not long afterwards the gathering storm broke on us. A large stock of cattle belonging to Bill Long and Allen Wood had been in the charge of five good and trustyBuccahrosor herdsmen, at the upper end of the valley. But red cunning, in this case, baffled white honesty. One dark night, three hundred head of stock were driven off; and in the morning the herdsmen found themselves without any herd to look after. At the time when the intelligence reached it, I was in Susanville. In less than an hour after we heard the facts, the Rangers, with the exception of three, were in the saddle, and on their way to Emmerson's Ranch, fromwhich the cattle had been driven. Two of the three we picked up on the road there. The third overtook us, long before we had arrived at the spot where our services were required.
About fifty volunteers had collected at the Ranch, when we reached it. They were occupied in the momentous duty of choosing a captain, and appeared to find no small difficulty in making their selection. As soon as Harry Arnold appreciated this difficulty, he approached me with an air of very far profounder respect than he had ever before exhibited to me, and raising his hand to his forehead in soldier-like style, said with great gravity:
"Captain! Don't you think we had better take the trail? They won't have chosen their commanding officer until—"
"The Day hof Judgment!" broke in Brighton Bill, with an oath.
"And after that," continued Harry with the same imperturbable seriousness, "they will have to elect a Lieutenant, a Sergeant, and—"
"'Alf ha dozen Horderlies!"
For once in my life I very nearly forgot duty, as I looked at the two whose criticism on the election going on, was couched in styles so widely opposed. To avoid roaring with laughter, I roared out in a very different tone.
"Rangers! take the trail."
In another instant, we were following its sufficiently broad and plain indication.
Let me, as we pursue it, mention that Harry Arnold's gentlemanly reproof, and Bill's coarser satire produced an immediate result. David Blanchard was chosencaptain of the Volunteers, in less than five minutes, and in no more than ten after we were on the trail, they also were in the saddles, and following it, closely behind us.
Blanchard had lived on the Plains for years, and was in every respect well adapted for his present position. We soon had a good understanding, and when we arrived at Smoke Creek where the Indians had evidently camped for the night, on the day before, a plan of action was agreed upon.
The horses were accordingly sent back under a sufficient guard to the Ranch, and we divided ourselves into two parties. One of these was to follow the red robbers up Painter's Cañon, which direction they had taken. The other was to continue down Smoke Creek, by Buffalo Springs, to protect the settlers from any other bands of the Pah-utes which might be out, after anything they could pick up—provision or stock, weapons or lives.
Very unfortunately, shortly after we had started, John Partridge and myself, with one of the pack-horses retained to carry blankets and provisions, as well as a Chinese who had accompanied the volunteers as a man of all work, became so lame that it was impossible for us to continue at the same speed as the rest of the party.
It was a matter of obvious necessity, that we should give up all idea of doing so.
In consequence of this, Arnold took my place in command of the Rangers, and with a sore heart in one bosom at least, I turned my back upon the men whose labors and dangers I had so long partaken. It would be almost impossible for me to explain precisely whatmy feelings were at that moment. Of course, I felt none who had shared my previous struggles would impute my disability to anything approaching fear, or a disinclination to endure privation. And yet, in the immediate pursuit of the rascals who had plundered two of our prominent settlers, I was compelled to leave it entirely to others. In my eyes, this almost seemed a humiliation which it must be long before I could surmount, and which subsequent toil and courage might alone wipe out.
Necessarily, this now appears childish to myself as it will doubtless to my readers. However, I felt it, and my heart seemed to weep tears of blood and shame as I did so.
We had determined upon returning through Rush Valley, for two reasons. One of them was, that knowing the ground, we fancied it would be easier to travel for us in our partially disabled condition. The other was even a simpler one. On reaching Mud Springs, which even in our present state we might fairly count upon doing by nightfall, we should find a resting place. This was in the house of a man whom I knew tolerably well, and who had formerly kept the Station at this place.
Upon reaching Mud Springs, which we did earlier than we had calculated on doing, we repaired to his dwelling, where we were welcomed warmly.
Scarcely, however, had he placed food before us, with some capital coffee, than he began questioning us about the Indians. He asked us what we had heard of them—whether they were yet moving—what action had been taken with regard to them, and lastly, how it was that I, Buckskin Mose, as I was now generally called, chanced tobe here? In reply, I recounted to him the plunder of Emmerson's Ranch, of which, he had as yet heard nothing, and the steps which had been taken to pursue the Pah-ute thieves. My narration was concluded with, I fear, no peculiarly pious expression of pleasure at having been compelled to leave the Rangers at a time when I should so desire to have been at their head.
As he listened to what I was saying, he chuckled audibly, and seeing my look of astonishment, afterwards explained what had induced him to indulge in so strange an exhibition of merriment.
"Yer see, Cap! I'm ready for 'em if they look me up. I don't choose to turn tail, like some of my neighbors."
"What do you mean?"
"I was sartain the copper-colored devils were preparing for something o' the sort, and so made a hole under the chapparal behind the house, whar I don't much think they'll spot me, when I take to it."
The hole he alluded to was a large and comfortable excavation conducted to by a subterranean passage of considerable length. It had taken him several weeks to dig out the passage and room, which last was sufficiently spacious tocachèall his goods, and even portion of his stock, if the necessity of doing so was forced upon him. He exhibited his fortification, or we should perhaps call it his citadel, to myself, Partridge, and the Chinaman, with a good deal of pride.
Nor, indeed, was it a place of security to be laughed at, by a solitary dweller on the frontier during Indian troubles. Nature had evidently not dealt on the square with him. With the advantages of education, the fellow would have made a good military engineer.
Fatigued with our day's tramp, we retired at an early hour, and had been asleep but a short time, when we were aroused by the continual barking of his two watchdogs. These, I had noticed on arriving at the house. They were noble-looking animals.
Throwing aside my blanket, and sitting up, I noticed that Partridge had done the same.
As for the person who had failed to find his natural avocation, he was already on his feet, as also was our Chinese friend. The latter volunteered a very unnecessary explanation.
"Doggee too much barkee. Pig-tail Bobbee, no sleepee."
The dogs certainly did keep up a confounded row. We concluded that, under the circumstances, a renewed attempt at slumber would be useless. In accordance with this view of the situation, John Partridge and myself also rose, "keeping an eye out" for what might turn up next.
We had only been on our legs for a few minutes, when one of the dogs rushed against the door with a prolonged howl. On opening it, he ran in, and we saw an arrow sticking in his body. The door was instantly closed and barred. It was clear that we were attacked, and I instantly peered through one of the small holes with which the boarded and sodded walls of the house were pierced, to see what I could.
It was dark enough. Yet my eyes were sufficiently keen to discern the dusky forms of objects moving in front, which were evidently red-skins.
But the gloom was too great for us to fire with a reasonable chance of hitting them. We must wait for the daylight. It was now some two hours pastmidnight, and when the dawn broke we should—ha! what was this? Smoke driving through the dried sods on the inside of the walls, followed here and there, where the shrinking of the matted earth had given such a chance, by lancing tongues of flame.
Light had been afforded us much sooner than we had, in any way, anticipated.
The red devils had set the house on fire.
It was clear that we should have to abandon our outer works, and retire into the stronghold.
We accordingly made an orderly retreat through the tunnel which has already been mentioned, carrying all our ammunition and weapons with us. The Pah-utes had of course expected us to attempt an escape above ground. In that case, they would have been able, by the light of the blazing dwelling, to have counted us out and raised our hair. As it was, we preferred concealing ourselves under the earth. This enabled us to save our scalps, at any rate, for the time.
We had carried a spade with us. It was necessary to fill up the passage through which we quitted the burning dwelling. In any less pressing necessity than the present, I should certainly have set Pig-tail Bobbee at the work of closing it. Chinese labor, however, although thorough, is by no means rapid enough in moments of necessity.
So, I began it. Partridge and the engineer followed. Each worked in turn, almost as fast as chain lightning.
In some ten or twelve minutes the mouth of the narrow tunnel was blocked up, I may honestly say, with a speed and completeness which even a Brunel or a Stephenson would have appreciated. McClellan wouldhave been nowhere, if his work had been brought into comparison with ours on the score of rapidity.
We then transferred ourselves to the citadel. As I before intimated, it was sufficiently large. However, it possessed one inconvenience with regard to John and myself.
The engineer was a short man. He had dug it out, with an eye to his own convenience. The Chinaman was even shorter. Consequently, he also found it lofty enough for his height. But we counted nearly six feet in stature. However, in such a case as the present one, minor personal discomforts had to be overlooked. A graver one now presented itself. The engineer had provided no means of ventilation. We had tenanted the internal fort for some half an hour, when the atmosphere became unpleasantly close. It might even have been pronounced stifling. Some means of procuring fresh air had at once to be found. I questioned our friend as to the presumable distance between the top of my skull and the bottom of thechapparal.
"Tain't far, Cap, atween one and the other," was his answer.
"How far?"
"Mebbee, six inches," he reflectively answered.
"You're sure of that?"
"Or mebbee, six foot!"
"Good Heavens! man, have you no clearer idea about it than that?"
"How on airth should I, Cap?"
"Don't you know that there's a good chance of our being smothered, like rats in a hole which has been stopped up?"
"Yow could I help it?"
There was no use in discussing the subject with the luckless engineer. That was evident. Something, however, had to be done, and very shortly. A rat in such a case would use its teeth without pausing to discuss how much or how little he had to gnaw through. My teeth were not exactly adapted to such an experiment. But my ramrod might be a good probe, and if it found bottom or top (which it was, it would have been difficult to say) the spade might save us.
In another instant I was working my ramrod through the earthen roof of our air-tight, although scarcely pregnable citadel.
The earth was soft, and in less than a minute I felt its end had reached fresh air, although none of that desirable commodity had yet reached us. In order to enlarge the hole I had made, I was working the slip of wrought-iron with which I had produced it, round and round, when a large piece of rock fell down from the side of it, with a quantity of loose soil.
It scraped my shoulder.
"What tumblee?" screamed Pig-tail Bobby.
"Hold your tongue, you fool!" said Partridge. "Don't you feel, Mose has saved us from stifling."
With the fresh air, a little light, it was very little, came through the hole to us. As for me, I felt a new man. Looking around for a barrel which I had seen in the excavation when we had first visited it, with its proprietor, I set it erect under the ventilator so unexpectedly manufactured. Mounting on it, I protruded my head through the bottom of thechapparal. Day had already broken. Through the under branches of the trees I could see the still smoking timbers of theburned-down house. The rascally Pah-utes were dancing around them, in fiendish glee.
It was too great a temptation to be resisted, and I asked John to hand me my rifle.
After he had handed it to me, I passed its barrel through the bushes with great care, so as to avoid any noise which might attract the attention of the Indians.
Never, possibly, was any red devil more surprised than that Pah-ute, when he felt the leaden messenger of death crashing through his skull.
His surprise, however, was but momentary. It silenced him forever.
They handed me another rifle, and another of the red-skins fell.
Yet another, and another—until, at last, when nine of the Indians had been slain, the remainder of them fled from the scene they had so recently fancied one of complete victory.
We now quitted the cave which had served us so well, having taken some pork from the barrel I had used to stand upon with so much advantage. While cooking this on the still burning embers of the house, I saw the charred carcase of the poor hound, who had given us so timely a warning. He had been forgotten by his master, when we took refuge in the citadel, constructed by him without the indispensable requisite of an air-hole.
As we were drinking a little sugarless and milkless coffee, chancing to turn my head, I saw something moving in a large sage-brush.
Leaping to my feet, I started for it, and as I did so an Indian broke from it and ran. He did this in a zigzag manner, leaping from side to side, which renderedit a matter of extreme difficulty to fetch him. At length, however, I was enabled to accomplish this. He must have been on a scouting expedition from the party we had so narrowly escaped. If so, he had not well calculated the time of his return. Half an hour later or earlier, he might have kept his scalp.
Although still lame, I was enabled to cover more ground on our way back to the Ranch of George Laithrop, which we arrived at, close upon four o'clock in the afternoon.
A little after we had entered it, and while we were eating our supper, Laithrop, who had been out when we got there, turned up. He was astonished to see me, supposing I had been with the Rangers; but he had little time to devote to the expression of any such feeling. Two mounted Pah-utes were advancing to the house. Three months since they would have been received as friends, so far at least as a red-skin can ever be deemed friendly by the white man, of whom, on the slightest chance or whim, he is ready to become the enemy. After the preceding few days, they could merely be regarded in the light of the latter designation.
"Let them enter, Laithrop! but without their guns. We will go into the back-room."
In two or three minutes the red-skins were at the door. He told them, they must "leave" their "guns outside." They were probably upon an expedition for spying out the nakedness of the land, and counted on doing no immediate harm, as they consented to do this. Leaning one gun on either side of the door, they accordingly entered the main-room of the Ranch. Partridge and myself quitted the house by the rear doorway, and passing round it on either side, secured their twoweapons. Having effected this, I entered the room, followed by my companion, and told them they were "our prisoners." An indescribable mixture of rage and fear flashed over the features of the taller red-skin.
"The Pah-ute know Buckskin Mose. He laugh at his words, a heap."
While saying this, he had leapt into a corner of the room, caught up an old repeating rifle which was standing there, and struck heavily with it at George Laithrop. Had Laithrop not dodged the blow, it would have severely injured him. As it was, it caught him slantwise on the back and sent him staggering across the room.
The next instant he was struggling with myself and Partridge.
He managed to draw his knife.
However, this had been seen by me in time to avoid the thrust. With a blow from my fist, I dashed him from me. At the same instant a shot from his own Minie rifle, which Laithrop had caught up from the place where I had laid it, passed through his breast, and he fell.
Then I looked round for his companion.
To my surprise, I found him on the bed in the grip of Pig-tail Bobby. Never before had I seen a Chinaman with any fight in him. It was my first experience of a new phase in the character of the "Heathen Chinee." Bobby's knife was out, and in another minute the Pah-ute's life-blood would have been staining the blankets. This was a most useless proceeding, as blankets, at this time, were not over-plentiful round Honey Lake. Therefore I pulled Pig-tail back, with a round exclamation of disgust at the lavish profligacy of such a proceeding.
The red-skin, however, had more leg and less pluckthan his companion. Leaping from the bed, he darted through the door, and was off.
However, I was as quick as he was. No sooner had I seen him make for the open, than I was after him. As I left the house I had caught up a double-barrelled shot gun, and brought him down before he had run fifty yards from it.
After burying the Indians, Partridge started with me for Susanville, taking their ponies with us.
A few days only had passed when Harry Arnold also returned with the rest of the Rangers. They had recaptured only a few head of cattle. The rest of the herd had been killed by the thieving red-skins, in the same cowardly manner which I have elsewhere detailed.
One might have fancied the lesson they had received at Mud Springs, and the close pursuit which had induced their main body to resort to this expedient, would have kept them quiet. It, however, did not. The periodical lust for robbery and bloodshed which seems, from time to time, to possess them, had mastered their nature. More complete punishment could alone stop it.
A week later, George Laithrop sent me a pressing demand to come down with a few of the boys and pass some time with him. Two Pah-utes had recently appeared at the Ranch, and told him they had seen Buckskin Mose and himself kill their two companions and bury them. They had then threatened him with prompt vengeance, openly telling him that they intended not only to kill him and burn his house in a few days, but to slaughter every white man in the valley.
It must be owned that the open hardihood of these threats looked ominous. The red-skin so seldom threatens before he strikes, that it seemed to me the dwellersabout the Lake might be exposed to a graver danger from the Indians, than any they had as yet incurred.
In consequence of this belief, my men were at once summoned. The same day we started for George's Ranch, and got there after nightfall. On consulting with Laithrop, it was considered advisable to keep the Rangers as much out of sight as possible, to prevent the red-skins from realizing how well he was protected. In compliance with this idea, only some half-dozen of the boys, amongst whom was Tom Harvey and myself, became occupants of the house. Half of the remainder were stationed in a large logcorralabout one hundred yards distant on the south side. The rest were secreted in an old root-shed, or rather in the cellar of one, to the west.
George and myself sat by the burning logs on his hearth, talking on until a late hour.
Our subject was the red man, and he bitterly denounced the way in which our Government dealt with such a grave subject. It was, he said, continually patting them on the back, and buying a temporary truce. This, he believed, made the Indians actually think that a power which had only to plant its heel firmly upon them and crush them out of existence, actually feared their strength. "Greater liars, more unblushing thieves, as well as more reckless murderers," he continued, never existed. And these were the men whom Uncle Sam protected against his own children, whenever the blue-coats appeared upon the frontier.
Nor can I affirm but that he is, in the main, right. It is only by terrible punishment for their crimes, the whites are able to keep the red-skins within anything like reasonable bounds.
My knowledge of them, up to this time, vouched for the necessity of such retaliation. In no case which I have yet recounted had the settlers commenced an Indian war, if these struggles are entitled to such a name. When we struck, the blow was called for, by gross outrage or bloodier murder. Since I had met and known them, I had encountered no red-skin who had dealt squarely with me, except the father of Clo-ke-ta and Old Spotted Tail. And, possibly, of all the tribes I had yet any acquaintance with, the Pah-utes possessed the fewest virtues and the most thorough vices. George Laithrop's opinion of the Indian, founded in a great measure upon their character, was, in a fuller or lesser degree, shared by all who had ever been brought in contact with them.
A Little Compassion—white Folly and Red Treachery—A Squeak for Life—Making Tracks—Female Society—A Taste of Western Civilization—Deferring a Honey-moon—The Army Officer—Trailing and Spotting—A Chance to look at a little Indian Fighting—Wrathful and Righteous Buncombe—Forced to Bend One's Head—Mirth even at the Point of Death.
A Little Compassion—white Folly and Red Treachery—A Squeak for Life—Making Tracks—Female Society—A Taste of Western Civilization—Deferring a Honey-moon—The Army Officer—Trailing and Spotting—A Chance to look at a little Indian Fighting—Wrathful and Righteous Buncombe—Forced to Bend One's Head—Mirth even at the Point of Death.
We had not to wait long for the red-skins to attempt carrying out their late threats. On this occasion, we also had a good example afforded us of their gratitude, and keen sense of obligation for kindness.
About ten o'clock on the following day, I discovered some thirty-five or forty of them descending the side of the mountain near the Ranch, on their ponies. Tom Harvey was at the moment standing by me. He recognized an Indian at their head whom he had almost, as he himself expressed it, raised. He had lived with Tom for several years, and on one occasion, had saved Tom's life. Naturally enough, old love for the lad, who was now barely eighteen years of age, moved Harvey's bowels strongly with compassion.
Being, as my readers already know, a largely fat man, his compassion for the young Pah-ute was as oilily large and full-sized.
To state matters briefly, he wished to save him, and applied to me for permission to go out and warn him to leave.
"If I grant it, you must keep your tongue still, upon our being here."
"In course I will, Cap!"
"Not one word must you utter about our presence at the Ranch."
"D'yer think I'm a fool, Cap?"
Well! It can be no use to induce the belief that I did not wish him to go. Perhaps, at the time, owing to my conversation with Laithrop on the night before, I may have fancied we had judged the red rascals too harshly. Possibly—but there is no reason for my hesitation, or beating the cover. I may as well have it out, at once. The truth is, like an idiot, I permitted him to constitute himself good adviser to the one red-skin in particular, and necessarily to the others in general.
With my full sympathy he walked towards the Indians, and motioned to him he had recognized, to come forward. The young Pah-ute advanced.
Tom spoke to him, and the red-skin replied, making a gesture of dissent as he did so. After this Harvey continued long and earnestly, apparently urging him warmly to induce his colored friends to desist from their hostile intentions. The Indian, with an emphatic movement of the arm, seemed positively to refuse attempting to bring them to any such concession. It was then I saw the Ranger point in the direction of thecorralin which I had stationed portion of my men.
Immediately that I saw this, I became aware of the folly I had been guilty of, even more clearly than Harvey himself, soon afterwards, was of his.
The young red-skin turned at once to his companions, pointing to thecorral, and uttering a few rapid words. Then I saw Tom Harvey rushing back towardsme, while the Pah-utes fired a volley on the house or shed to which the Ranger's insane frankness had directed them. It was merely made of boards, an inch in thickness, reared end-ways. Their bullets riddled it, with the rattle of a storm of hail. All we could do in return was to fire on them from thecorraland the house, as they turned tail and urged their ponies up the mountain they had been descending. We saw five or six of them reel in their saddles. But they were prevented from falling from them, by their companions, until the whole of them were out of sight.
One of our own men had been instantly killed by their volley.
My wish was to follow them instantly. But, in this instance, my orders were not attended to. The boys had rushed upon Harvey and seized him. They were already violently discussing the question whether they should shoot or hang him for the crime he had committed. It was fortunate for him that my wrath, as well as that of Arnold and Painter, although fierce enough, was scarcely so savage as theirs was. Brighton Bill and Butch', I knew, would stand by me in almost any case, whether they agreed with me or not. If matters came to the worst, I also felt certain that we might count upon the assistance of George Laithrop. Rushing amongst them, it was with no small violence, and even a fierce blow or two, that I struggled to the side of the pale and weaponless Harvey, and wrenched him from their hands.
"What are you doing—Rangers?"
"A' going to hang him, darned quick."
"Without even a trial?" I demanded.
"We'll jist try him, arterwards."
"Then, by God!" I said, "you will have to hang me and try me afterwards, too." As they paused for perhaps half a minute, I continued without giving them a chance to speak. "I believed you chose me your Captain, yet here you are going to hang one of my boys, without letting me say a single word."
"Say it darned sharp, then, Cap!"
"And give us your orders to run him up with a rope, or put a bullet through his skull, in two minutes," roared out another.
As they were again crowding up and one of them had grasped Harvey by the collar, Ben Painter, followed by Arnold, had struggled to my side and thrust him back.
"I tell yer," he shouted out, for otherwise he would scarcely have been heard, "Mose is right. He's Captain. We mustn't have any Vigilance Committee business, but do up things square."
"We'll take him down to Susanville, and give him a fair trial," added Arnold.
"And then yer can hang him, if yer choose to," exclaimed Butch'. "Yer'll only have tu wait twenty-four hours."
By this time, the last speaker and Brighton Bill had vigorously thrust their way to my side, and I felt I had a sufficient support to carry my point and save Harvey from the menacing rope and tree which had so lately reared themselves before him.
But he also seemed to feel his increased chance of safety, and anxious to improve it, attempted to commence defending himself. When, however, he did so, I cut him short with a fierce whisper, announcing to him that if he uttered "a single word," I would abandonhim. The Rangers were in a moment of such wild excitement, that, had he spoken, every effort we might have made would have been useless. Their savage fury would very speedily have settled the question, in spite of us. Even as it was, we had to contend with them for more than an hour, before we had calmed them down sufficiently to listen to our arguments.
When this was at last effected, I placed him in the charge of Painter and Brighton Bill, while we buried the man who had been slain through his insane want of judgment.
That night we slept in George Laithrop's house, and on the following morning we were no sooner stirring, than it was discovered that while we had been sleeping, Tom Harvey had been awake. In other words, he had made tracks.
It must be remembered that there was scarcely one of our party who, while engaged in active work, looking after the Indians, was not in the habit of keeping one eye at least half-open in the hours of his intermittent rest. Possibly, however, it was the belief that there was no actual danger immediately around us, as well as the security Tom's size and weight appeared to afford against any attempt on his part to escape, that prevented our slumbers from being broken. At all events, it was difficult for us to realize the fact that he had managed it. We were all of us sleeping upon the floor of the house. Our blankets were all we had. Beds were then a scarcity, in this portion of the West, as, indeed, they would be now, at any Ranch in a section of it not too thickly populated. How the deuce he managed to step over the prostrate forms of so many of us as were lying between him and the door, without disturbing one ofthe sleepers, it would be impossible to say. Had he made the error of half an inch, in placing one of his feet upon the ground, he could not have failed to waken the Ranger on whose body or limbs he must have trodden. Fear had evidently much lightened his person. In addition to this, I could not help suspecting that George Laithrop had connived at his escape. Of course, there was a frightful commotion about it amongst the boys, whose feelings of security amongst themselves had been so unpleasantly dispelled by his conduct. George, however, escaped without the slightest suspicion. If any one was imagined to have aided and abetted his flight it was myself and Harry Arnold. In fact, as we were riding back to Susanville, Butch' could not help saying:
"I'm darned if yer didn't manage the thing well, Mose."
After this, none of us again alluded to it. Life was too active and full of daily excitement, to give us time for recalling such an event after it had reckoned itself with the doings of the past.
Only once since then, did I hear anything of "Fatty." He had been seen by a trapper on the Humboldt River, and had then said he was on the way to Salt Lake City. He may possibly by this time have become a Mormon, and been enrolled as an elder of that polygamous community.
Some time in July, 1862, I received a letter from the last-named place. A few months earlier I had written to my wife, begging her to come to me, and giving her directions how to cross the Plains. This letter was from her. She had immediately complied with my wishes, and requested me to meet her as soon after she leftSalt Lake as might be possible. It would be impossible to express the delight which I felt in knowing she was so near me. None of those who have not experienced the pleasures of a life with little female society, and no near female relative to whom they can unbosom all their joy as well as all their weariness, discomfort, and trouble, can realize it. In the excess of my gratification, I fear I must have exposed myself to the laughter and jocularity as well as the envy of many of my comrades, as I cannot doubt but that, in my first moments of well-nigh delirious pleasure, I must have made a complete fool of myself.
Almost immediately, I left Susanville for Virginia City, Nevada. Thence, I went to Dayton.
Here I met an overland stage-driver. From him I heard that he had passed a train at Austin, in which I might find my wife. Accordingly, I purchased a horse and side-saddle from the keeper of the hotel, who was named Jaquish, and on the succeeding day was again in the saddle.
Dan Vanderhoof, a friend of mine whom I had known for several years, accompanied me portion of the way to Carson City. I went to this place with the view of meeting Colonel P. E. Connor with his command of California Volunteers. My friend introduced me to him and Major Gallagher, and I was asked to accompany them some eight miles down the Carson River to Reed's Station. It was to talk upon "business." Otherwise, I should have certainly declined deviating from the road, so increasingly anxious was I to see the little woman from whom I had so long been separated.
This business was, after the evening meal, speedily arranged.
They needed a guide and scout through Idaho and Utah, in the Fall. My qualifications as the last, would counterbalance any deficiency I might have as to the first-named. The necessary details were quickly agreed upon, and early on the next morning I was crossing the Desert towards the big bend of the Carson River. On the day following this, I came upon a large train of stock, and one of the guides told me a larger train was then some four miles behind them, at a distance of something more than a mile from the main track. Pushing on at once, in less than half an hour I came in sight of the encampment.
While I was riding up to it, my wife recognized me. How she was able to do so, has, on thinking the matter over, always astonished me. The tan of exposure on the frontier, fuller muscle, and the general style of my dress and equipment, had so thoroughly changed my personal appearance.
However, she certainly did know me. As for her, I should have recognized her features, even had she been dressed in the unsightly garb of an Esquimaux.
It would be little use for me to detail the words and actions of this meeting. Any man who has been so long separated from his wife as I had been, and any female who had, for so long a period, not seen the face of her husband, will readily imagine what passed between us. We were, nevertheless, quickly compelled to bring our outburst of natural joy to an end, by the approach of Chart Gregory with Mr. and Mrs. Devine, and others of her companions on the train. Then I heard of all the trouble she had been exposed to, and more especially of a fellow named Mat Carpenter, who had been consistently unkind to her since they had first struck thePlains. He had been an old school-mate of hers, and had displayed the memory of their childish intimacy, by doing all he possibly could to increase the discomfort she had experienced in her preliminary taste of Western civilization.
"You needn't look round for him, Mr. P——," said Gregory, as he saw my eyes wandering round the camp, with an ominous look for him. "No sooner had your lady recognized you, than the scamp cleared out."
At the instant, the employment of my real name, for the first time in so many years, as well as the polite appellation he had bestowed on "Mrs. P——," so completely astonished me, that I momentarily lost my self-possession. After this I could not help laughing, as my wife also did, although she, very certainly, could not comprehend the motive which induced such an audible peal of merriment on my part. Then she told me that Mr. Gregory had already thrashed Mat, some two days since. At the same time he had told him, I should be made acquainted with his conduct the moment that I met the train. This very clearly accounted for his disappearance, without waiting for an introduction.
Having adjusted the side-saddle for my wife, and seen that she was safely mounted, I took behind me what positively needful articles she might require. With a friendly farewell upon our part, and a grateful leave-taking on mine to those of her fellow-travellers who had shown her kindness, we started across the great Desert.
Continuing all night, we broke fast next morning at one of the stage stations, and after resting for an hour, once more started.
From this point the road followed the river, and in my anxiety to save some eight or ten miles of a trackwhich I knew must be toilsome in the extreme to a female whose life had not been passed in this part of the country, I cut across the low range of hills by an old Indian trail. When, however, I observed some Indians approaching from our right, I recognized the want of caution I had displayed. Without calling my wife's attention to their dark specks in the distance, for they were a long way from us, I urged the horses into a sharp gallop, trusting they might not have seen us. But the red man has eyes quite as keen as the white ranger. They changed their course, with the evident purpose of cutting us off from the river.
My decision was rapidly formed.
Knowing we should soon mount a small ridge, and should on its far side be unseen by them for some time, we had no sooner crossed it, than I turned left into the ravine known as Six-mile Cañon. Pushing rapidly up this, we made our escape, and I did not mention the narrow chance we had run of an Indian fight, until my wife and myself were in sight of Virginia City.
This was, I may undoubtedly say, the first case in which I had turned tail on the red-skins without an interchange of hostile salutations.
On arriving at Susanville, my friends told me that the Indians had, the day before, killed Loomis Kellogg and a man of the name of Block, beside wounding Theodore Perdum, at a place more than half-way between Laithrop's Ranch and Mud Springs. They had been attacked by a party of Indians, which were generally in the vicinity of Honey Lake and closely upon the Humboldt. These had been baptized by the settlers as the Smoke-creek tribe, although by no means a tribe in the same sense as the Pah-utes and Modocs were.
This band of red-skins was composed of the offscourings of these two tribes who had either fled or been chased from them, simply because they were too scoundrelly and contemptibly degraded, in the eyes of their original brethren, to be trusted or consorted with.
Smoke-creek Sam was their chief. He had earned this pre-eminence by being, at long odds, not only the most blood-thirsty villain in this gang of red devils, but perhaps the most irredeemable ruffian the Indian history of the West can chronicle. The outrages in which he and his band had been involved, both at our immediate expense and that of all the settlers anywhere in our vicinity, were well-nigh numberless. During the past year, whether Uncle Sam's patience had been worn out by the accounts he had received of his namesake's rascally and bloody offences, or from a wish to make some capital in the East by bestowing a little affection on his Western nephew, it would be impossible to say. He, however, condescended to bestow a little attention upon Smoke-creek Sam. Some blue-coats had been sent out, and two military posts had been formed. These were, respectively, on Smoke and Granite Creeks, in the centre of the sweep of country exposed to this scoundrel's depredations.