We now packed up and were ready to put out. We mounted our horses, bid them "good bye" and were off.
Nothing of interest occurred until we got near Green river. Here we met Jim Beckwith and Bob Simson. Jim Bridger and I had just gone into camp when they rode up. After they had shaken hands with us Jim Beckwith said, "Boys, you are just the parties we are looking for."
Bridger asked Beckwith what he had been doing and where he had been since we parted at Bent's Fort last spring. Beckwith replied that he had been with a train of emigrants just now who were on the way to California, and they had camped over on Black's Fort. The cholera had broken out among them soon after they crossed the Platte River, and from then up to yesterday they had buried more or less every day. There had been no new cases since yesterday, and they were laying over to let the people rest and get their strength, and they expected to start out tomorrow morning, and turning to me Beckwith said, "Will, I want you to go with us for there is another train of emigrants over on the Salt Lake route."
At this time there were two routes between the Green river and the Humboldt; one by the way of Salt Lake and the other by Lander's Cut off. Beckwith said, "Those emigrants going by the Salt Lake route have no guide, and I am afraid when they strike the Humboldt they will all be massacred, for they will be right in the heart of the Pi-Ute country, and you know this tribe is on the war path, and I want you to go on and overtake them and see them safely through, or else stay with this train and I will go myself and take care of them. We want the two trains to meet at the mouth of Lone Canyon, and then we will go up Long Canyon to Honey lake and then cross the Sierra Nevada."
I turned to Jim Bridger and said, "Jim, what do you think of this proposition?"
Jim said he thought it a good thing for me to do; the responsibility would give me more confidence in myself. "You know, Will, you have always depended on Carson or me at all times, and this trip will teach you to depend on yourself."
I saddled my horse and went with Beckwith back to the emigrants' camp. It was arranged that I was to take charge of the scouts and Simson to take charge of the other train, and Beckwith would go on and overtake the other train, and the train that reached the mouth of Long Canyon where it empties into Truckey river first must wait for the other train.
At this point the two trails divided, one going up the Truckey by the Donna lake route and the other up Long Canyon by Honey lake, the latter being considered the best route.
The next morning we pulled out. I had good luck all the way through, having no trouble with the Indians, arriving at Long Canyon three days ahead of Jim Beckwith.
In my train there was an old man with his wife and a son and daughter; they seemed to be very peculiar dispositioned people, always wanting to camp by themselves and having nothing to say to any one. When we reached Long Canyon, Simson told the emigrants that we would wait until the other train arrived, which news greatly pleased the most of them, but the old man and his family seemed to be all upset at the idea of laying over, and the next morning they harnessed up their horses. While they were doing this, Simson called my attention to them and said, "Let's go and see what they mean."
I asked the man what he was going to do with his team. He replied that he was going to hook them to the wagon and was going to California. I said, "You certainly are not going to start on such a journey alone, are you? You are liable to be all killed by the Indians before you get twenty miles from here."
The old man shrugged his shoulders and said, "Why, gol darn it, we hain't seen an Injin in the last three hundred miles, and I don't believe there is one this side of them mountains," and he pointed towards the Sierra Nevada mountains. "And if we did meet any they wouldn't bother us for we hain't got much grub, and our horses is too poor for them to want."
I told him, he must not go alone, the road was too dangerous, and besides the other train might come at any moment, and then we could all pull out in safety. He said, "I own that wagon and them horses, and I own pretty much every thing in that wagon and I think I will do just as I please with them." I insisted on his waiting until the other train came up, he said, he would not wait any longer, that he was going to go right now. I left him and walked back to the camp; I asked the men if any of them had any influence with that old man out there.
"If you have for god's sake use it and persuade him to not leave us, for if he starts out alone he, nor any of his family will reach Honey lake alive."
Just then one of the men said, "I have known that man ten years and I know that all the advice all these people could give him would be wasted breath and the less said to him the better it will be."
I then went back to Simson who had charge of the wagons and said to him, "What shall we do with that old man? He is hitching up to leave us which will be sure death to him and his family. If he goes had we not better take his team away from him and save his life and his family's?"
Simson said, he would consult with the other men and see what they thought about it. After he had talked with the other men a short time, twenty or thirty of them went out where the old man was hitching up his team. What they said to him I do not know. When I got to him he was about ready to pull out; he said, "I'm going now and you men can come when you please and I don't give a D'. whether you come at all of not."
This was the last we ever saw of the old man or his son.
Three days later Jim Bridger arrived with his train, and then we all pulled out together by the way of Honey lake. The first night after leaving camp Jim Bridger, Simson and myself had a talk about the old man who had left us. Jim said. "I don't suppose we shall ever hear of him again," and turning to me he said, "Will, it will take us two days to go to Honey Lake; now tomorrow morning suppose you pick out of your scout force eight good men, take two days' rations and your blankets with you and rush on ahead to the Lake and see if you can find them. It may be possible that some of them are alive, but I don't think you will find one of them. Now, Will, be careful and don't take any desperate chances; if you find they have been taken prisoners keep track of them until we get there."
The next morning I and my men were off bright and early. We reached the lake about three o'clock in the afternoon, where we struck the lake there was scattering timber for quite a ways up and down and here we found the old man's wagon. The wagon cover, his tent, and his team, were gone; his cooking utensils were setting around the fire which was still burning. Almost every thing was gone from the wagon, but there was no sign of a fight. Neither could we see any white men's tracks; but moccasin tracks were plenty. We sat down and ate our luncheon: as soon as we finished eating we started to trail the Indians to find out what had become of the whites. We had gone but a short distance when I discovered the tracks of the two women; then we knew that they had been captured by the Indians. I said, "I want you men to take this side of the ridge and watch for Indians all the time, and you must watch me also; when you see me throw up my hat come at once and be sure to not shout, but signal to each other by whistling or holding up your hands and be sure to have your signals understood among yourselves. And another thing I want to say to you, if you see any Indian, signal to me, at once. Now I am going to take the trail of these white women, and if I need your assistance I will signal, and you must all get to me as quick as possible."
All being understood I started on the trail of the white women. I hadn't followed the trail over a half a mile, when I saw one of the men running towards me at full speed; when he reached me he said, "We have found a dead man, and he is stuck full of arrows."
I mounted my horse and accompanied him to where the body lay. I recognized it at once; it was the son of the old man who had left us three days before. His clothes were gone except his shirt and pants, and his body was almost filled with arrows. I said, "This is one of the party, and the other is a prisoner, or we shall find his body not far from here. Let us scatter out and search this grove of timber thoroughly; perhaps we may find the other body; and be careful to watch out for the Indians, for they are liable to run upon us any time."
We had not gone more than two hundred yards before we found the old man's body; it was laying behind a log with every indication of a hand-to-hand fight. One arrow was stuck in his body near the heart, and there were several tomahawk's wounds on the head and shoulders, which showed that he died game.
It was getting late in the afternoon so I proposed to the men that we take the bodies back to where we had found their camp, as we had no way of burying the bodies in a decent manner, we had to wait until the train came up to us. We laid the bodies side by side under a tree and then we went into camp for the night as there was good grass for the horses. We staked them out close to camp. We had seen no Indians all day, so we did not think it necessary to put out guards around the camp that night, and we all laid down and went to sleep.
The next morning we were up and had an early breakfast; that done, I said, "Now, men I want two of you to go back and meet Bridger and tell him what we have found and pilot him here to this camp, and he will attend to the burying of these bodies; I would rather you should choose among your selves who shall go back."
One man by the name of Boyd and another whose name was Taluck said they would go. These men were both from Missouri; I then told them to tell Bridger that I was a going to start on the trail of the white women at once, and for him to camp here and that he would hear from me tonight, whether I found them or not.
The rest of the men and I started on the trail; three went on one side and three on the other, and I took the trail; I cautioned the men to keep a sharp look out for the Indians all the time, and if they saw any Indians to signal to me at once. I had followed the trail some five or six miles when it led me to a little stream of water in a small grove of timber. Here I found where the Indians had camped; the fire was still burning which convinced me that the Indians had camped there the night before. I also saw where the two women had been tied to a tree. I followed them a short distance and saw that the band we were following had met a larger band, and they had all gone off together in a northerly direction. We were now near the north end of Honey lake, and I had about given up hopes of ever seeing the women again, but I did not tell my thoughts to my companions. The trail was so plain that I now mounted my horse; we followed at a pretty rapid gate two or three miles, when we saw that a few tracks had turned directly towards the lake. I dismounted and examined them and found the two shoe tracks went with the small party. I was now convinced that this was a party of squaws going to the lake to fish; and I felt more encouraged to keep up the pursuit. We were within a mile of the lake at this time. We rode as fast as we could and keep the trail in sight. We soon came in sight of the lake; looking to the right I saw a small band of squaws building a fire. I called the men to me and told them that I believed the women we were looking for were with those squaws, and if they were, I thought we could rescue them.
"I think our best plan will be to ride slowly until they see us and then make a dash as fast as our horses can carry us; if the white women are with them, we will ride right up to them, if they are tied I will jump down and cut them loose," and pointing at two of the men I said, "You two men will take them up behind you and take the lead back, and the rest of us will protect you."
We did not ride much farther before the squaws discovered us at which they began to shout, "Hyha," which meant "They're coming they're coming."
In a moment we were in their midst, and sure enough the women were there and tied fast to a small tree, a short distance from where the squaws were building the fire.
What happened in the next few minutes I could never describe. The women knew me at once and with cries and laughter, touching, beyond description greeted me.
In an instant I was off my horse and cutting them loose from the tree, at the same time the men were circling around us with guns cocked ready to shoot the first squaw that interfered with us.
To my great surprise I did not see a bow or arrow among them or a tomahawk either; as quick as I had the women loose I helped them up behind the men I had selected to take them away from captivity back to meet the train. As soon as we had left them of all the noise I ever heard those squaws made the worst. I think they did this so the bucks might know that they had lost their captives and might come to their assistance. Where the bucks were I never knew. After riding four or five miles we slacked our speed, and the women began telling us how the whole thing had occurred. It seemed they had got to the camping ground early in the afternoon of the second day after leaving us and instead of staking out their horses they turned them loose, and about dusk the old man and his son went out to look for the horses, were gone a couple of hours and came back without them. This made them all very uneasy. The next morning just at break of day the old man and his son took their guns and started out again to hunt for their horses, and the mother and daughter made a fire and cooked breakfast. The sun was about an hour high, and they were sitting near the fire waiting for the men to come back when they heard the report of a gun; they thought the men were coming back and were shooting some game. They had no idea there was an Indian near them. In the course of a half an hour they heard the second shot, and in a few minutes the Indians were upon them, and they knew that the men were both dead, because the Indians had both of their guns and were holding them up and yelling and dancing with fiendish glee. The Indians grabbed them and tied their hands behind them and then they tore down their tent, took the wagon cover off and everything out of the wagon that they could carry off.
"The bucks did the things up in bundles, and the squaws packed them on their backs, and they were expecting every minute to be killed. After the squaws had gone the bucks ate everything they could find that was cooked, and the squaws that you found us with made us go with them to the north end of the lake and there they camped that night. They tied us with our backs to a little tree; we could not lay down and what little sleep we got we took sitting up; we had not had a bit of breakfast that morning when the Indians came upon us; it was all ready, and we were waiting for our men folks to come back, and we have had nothing since, but a little piece of broiled fish with no salt on it."
Until now I had not said anything about our finding the dead bodies of their men, I thought it better to tell them now rather than wait until we reached camp, as I thought the shock would be less when they came to see the condition they were in.
Before I had finished telling the condition of the bodies when we found them, I was afraid the young lady would faint, she seemed to take the horrid news much harder than her mother did.
When we got to camp we found that Bridger had been there some two hours ahead of us and had men digging the graves and others tearing up the wagon box to make coffins to bury the bodies in.
We took the women to a family they were acquainted with and left them in their care. After they had been given something to eat they went where the bodies lay and looked at them, and with sobs of bitter grief bent over them; which made my heart ache in sympathy for them in their loneliness.
The next morning we laid them away into their lonely graves in as decent a manner as we could, and in sadness left them.
Through the influence of Jim Bridger arrangements were made with two families to take these two ladies with them to California. Just before noon Jim came to me and said, "We will stay here until tomorrow morning; I would like you to take four or five men who have good horses and go around the north end of the lake and find out, if you can, if the Piutes are gathering together in a large band. It is about the time of year for the Piutes to leave this part of the country, but if they are gathering in a large band they are bent on giving us trouble, and we will have to make preparations to defend our selves. In three days more if we have good luck we shall be out of the hostile Indian country."
We had an early dinner and four others and myself set out for the head of the lake, we rode hard all that afternoon and to our great surprise we never saw an Indian. We passed a number of camps where they had been, but their trails all showed that they had pulled out for the north. Seeing this we turned back and struck the emigrant trail about ten miles from where Jim was camped. Just as we struck the emigrants trail I looked off to the south about a quarter of a mile and saw nine head of horses, and they were heading in the same direction we were going. I called the other men's attention to them and said, "Let's capture those Indian ponies." You may imagine our surprise when we got near them to find they were not Indian ponies but good American horses and several of them had collar marks on them showing that they had been worked lately. We drove them on to camp, and when we put them in the corral we found them to be perfectly gentle. Bridger and the balance of the men came to see them, and every man had his own view where they had come from. But we never knew for certain whom they belonged to. The next morning we pulled out very early. The third day we crossed the Sierra Nevada mountains without any thing of interest happening to us. In two days more we reached the Sacramento river. We were now about forty miles above Sacramento City, California. We camped here about the middle of the afternoon. It being Saturday Jim thought we would rest the balance of the day. After we had eaten our dinner Jim called all the men of the train together and told them that they were out of all danger now from the Indians and would have no further use for a guide and that our contract with them was ended, and that he and I would like to start back for New Mexico Monday morning. In a short time they settled up with us, paying us our due with grateful thanks for our care of them on their dangerous journey. I now went to the men who were with me when I found the horses. I said, "Some of those horses belong to you, how many do you want?"
They all looked surprised, and one said, "They are not our horses, they are yours. You found them."
I answered, "Now, boys, that is not fair; drive them up and let me select three and you may have the balance to divide as you choose among you."
This seemed to please them; and they drove the horses up at once. I chose the three I liked best, and I afterwards found them all to be good saddle horses. Bridger and I now went to work making our pack saddles and getting ready for our long and tedious journey back to New Mexico, a journey where wild beasts and still wilder savages might lurk behind any tree or bush, a journey where at that time all one could see for hundreds of miles was thick forests, and trackless prairies; a journey of danger and fatigue which the people of this later day of rapid travel could not be made to understand.
The next morning after breakfast was over a man came to me and said, Mrs. Lynch and her daughter Lizzie would like to see me. These were the two ladies I had rescued from the Indians. I had not spoken to them since I left them with Bridger at the camp near Honey Lake. As I came near to the elder lady she came to meet me and holding out her hand, clasping mine she said, "Are you going to leave us tomorrow?"
I answered, "That is what we intended to do."
She then burst into tears, and amid her sobs said, "We can never pay you for what you have done for us."
At this moment the young girl appeared, and as she gave me her hand her mother said, "He is going to leave us, and we can never pay him for what he has done for us"; at this the girl commenced to cry too and it was some minutes before I could talk to them. When they had quieted down I said, "Ladies, you owe me nothing, I only done my duty, and I would do the same thing over again for you or any one else under the circumstances that existed." Then the elder lady said, "If it hadn't been for you we might never have seen a white person again."
I asked her, what state they were from. She said they came from Wright country, Missouri, and that she had a brother there that was amply able to come and take them back, but she would not ask him to do so for she never wanted to cross the plains again. She said she had a few dollars left that the Indians didn't get, and she thought Lizzie and she could find something to do to get a living. I gave them all the encouragement I could, bid them good bye and went back to Jim.
By the time dinner was ready Jim and I had our pack saddles and every thing ready to put on our horses. While we were eating dinner as many as thirty ladies came to us to inquire what they could give us to take with us to eat on our journey. I was amused at Bridger. After each lady had told what she had to give us, some had cakes, some had pie, and some had boiled meat and some had bread; Jim straightened up and said, "Why dog-gorn it ladies, we ain't got no wagon and we couldn't take one if we had one the route we are going which will be through the mountains all the way with no road or trail. We are going horse back and we can only take about a hundred pounds on our pack horses. Now, ladies, we are a thousand times obliged to you all but all we want is some bread and a little meat, enough to do us a couple of days, and then we will be where we can shoot all the meat we want; it is a poor hunter that could not get enough grub for himself in the country we are going through."
The next morning when we were getting ready to start the women commenced bringing in bread and meat for us and we had to take enough to last us a week, we could not take less without hurting their feelings. When we were all ready to start, the whole company came to bid us "good bye." Men and women, old and young, all came, and amid hand clasps from the men and tears and smiles from the women we mounted our horses and were off.
We followed the trail we had come, back as far as Truckey river, and just below where Reno stands now, we met the remnant of an emigrant train and according to their story they had had nothing but trouble from the time they struck the head of Bitter Creek until the day before we met them. They said they had lost twenty seven men and fourteen women and a number of cattle and horses. They were very much surprised when we told them of the train we had just piloted through to California without losing one that staid with us. We told them of the dreadful fate of old Mr. Lynch and his son.
As night was coming on we camped in company with these people. Next morning we crossed Truckey river and struck out in a south east direction, leaving the site where Virginia city now stands a little to our right going by the sink of the Carson River. Here we camped and laid over one day to give our horses a rest. Before we left here we filled our canteens with water. Bridger told me that for the next fifty miles it was the poorest watered country in the United States. Said he: "There is plenty of water, but it is so full of alkali it is not fit to drink; it is dangerous for both men and beasts."
Jim took the lead all day, and when we came to a little stream of water he would get down and taste the water while I held the horses to keep them from drinking. It was about four o'clock that afternoon before we found water that was fit to drink; here we camped for the night.
Jim said, "From this on we may look for Indians; we are now in the Ute country and tomorrow night we will be in the Apache country. Now we must avoid the large streams for the Apaches are almost always to be found near the large streams at this time of year. Their hunting season is about over now, and they go to the large streams to catch fish and for the benefit of a milder climate. If we keep on the high ridges and mountains away from the large streams we will have no trouble with the Indians and what is better for us we can get all the game we want without any exertion."
The next day we were traveling along on a high ridge in the south east corner of what is now the State of Nevada. We looked off to the south at a little valley that was perhaps a half a mile from us, and there we saw a grand sight. There must have been at least a hundred elk and amongst them two very large old bucks fighting. Their horns were something immense, and strange to say all the rest of the band stood still, watching the fight. At last Jim said, "Will, I believe I will break up that fight."
He jumped to the ground, raised his gun and fired. At the sound of the gun all of the band ran away except the two who were fighting. I laughed and said, "Jim, I thought you were going to stop that fight."
He replied, "Give me your gun, and I will stop it."
This time I handed him my gun, and he squatted down and took a rest on his knee and fired. At the crack of the gun one of the elks fell to his knees, but got up and ran for all that was in him, and that was the last we saw of the elk. I told Jim he had spoilt the fun, and we had got no meat out of it. He grinned and said, "Oh durn it that old elk was too old to eat any way."
We went on and camped at the head of a little stream that emptied intoGreen river. The sun was perhaps an hour high, when we went into camp.As soon as we had staked out our horses Jim said, "Now Will, I will getthe supper, if you will go out and see if you can get some meat."
I answered, "That suits me to a T. Jim."
I took my gun and started for a little ridge. I had not gone over a hundred yards when I saw five deer coming directly towards me. Among them were two spring fawns. I dropped down at the root of a tree and waited until they came to within fifty yards of me; I then fired and broke one of the fawns' necks, and the rest of the flock came near running over me, and over Jim also. I picked up my fawn and went back to camp. Jim said, "I don't want you to go hunting anymore Will."
I said, "Why not?" He said, "If you do I shall have to stand guard over the camp to keep the deer from tramping every thing we have into the ground"; and he pointed to the tracks of the deer not ten feet from the fire. This convinced us that these deer had never heard the report of a gun before. We were now in the extreme south east end of Nevada, and I don't imagine a white man had ever been through that part of the country before. On this trip we traveled some twelve or fifteen hundred miles, and we never saw a white person the whole way, and not even the sign of one.
At this time when a little more than a half of a century has passed there are portions of this same country that could not be rode over from the fact that it is all fenced in and cultivated. If we had been told then that we would live to see railroads crossing every part of this country we would have thought the person insane to ever think of such a thing at a time when there was not a foot of rail-road as far west as Missouri.
We had broiled venison for supper that night, the first we had eaten for some time, and the reader may be sure we enjoyed it.
Next morning we pulled out of here quite early and crossed Green river just above the mouth of Blue River. We were now in the greatest game country I had ever seen then or ever have seen since. We traveled up this stream three days, and I do not think there was a half an hour at any one time that we were out of sight of game of some kind. There was the Bison which is a species of Buffalo, Elk, Deer, Black Bear, and Antelope. We crossed the main divide of the Rocky Mountains at the head of the Arkansas River. That night we camped within a few miles of what since has become the far-famed camp and now city of Leadville.
We were now out of the hostile Indian country, and so we did not have to be so cautious in traveling days or camping at night.
While we were traveling down the Arkansas river I saw a sight I had never seen before and never have since. Two Buck Deer locked fast together by their horns. I had been told of such things and have since, but that is the only time I ever saw it myself. We were very near them before we saw them. They were in a little open prairie. I called Jim's attention to them as soon as I saw them. He said, "I'll be gol durned if that ain't the second time I ever saw such a sight, and now we will have some fun out of them bucks."
We dismounted and walked up near them, and by the looks of the ground which was torn and tramped for quite a distance we decided that they had been in that condition quite a while. Jim said, "How in the plague, Will, are we going to get these critters apart? They are too plaguey poor to eat, so we don't want to kill them, and they will die if we leave them in this fix; what shall we do, Will?"
I thought a minute and said, "Can't we take our little ax and chop one of their horns off?"
He said, "I hadn't thought of that, but bring me the ax and I will try it."
I ran to the pack horse and got the ax. He said, "Now you go back to the horses; for if I get them loose they may want to fight us."
So I went to the horses and looked back to see what Jim was doing. He went up to them with the ax drawn ready to strike but it was quite a bit before they were quiet enough for him to get a good hit at them. At last he made a strike and down went one of the deer. Instead of striking the deer's horn he struck him right back of the horn and killed him instantly; when Jim saw what he had done he made another hit at the dead buck's horn and freed the live one, which ran thirty or forty yards and stopped and turned around and shook his head at us a half a dozen times and then he trotted away as if nothing had happened.
Jim laughed and said, "He never stopped to thank us, did he? Well he ain't much different from some people." I said, "Why, Jim he meant "thank you" when he shook his head at us; that is all the way he could say it, you know," to which he replied, "Well, I saved one of them any way."
Nothing occurred of interest from this time on until we reached our journey's end at Taos, New Mexico. Here we found Uncle Kit and his wife both enjoying good health and a warm welcome for his boy Willie, and his old friend Jim Bridger.
After supper that night we told Uncle Kit that we had traveled from the Sacramento river, California to Taos, New Mexico in thirty-three days, and that we never saw a hostile Indian on the trip, and neither had had any trouble of any kind to detain us a half an hour on the whole trip. He said, "That is a wonderful story to hear, when there are so many wild Indians in that part of the country. Now boys tell me what route you came."
We marked out the route by different streams and mountains. He looked at the map we had drawn and said, "I will venture to say there is not two men in all the country that could make that trip over that route and get through alive. I will say again, boys, it is some thing wonderful to think of, and you must have been protected by a higher power than your selves to get through in safety."
We staid with Uncle Kit a couple of weeks and rested up, and then we struck out for Bent's Fort to make up our crew to go to our trapping ground for our winter's work.
Uncle Kit accompanied us to Bent's Fort; and all the trappers were anxious to get in his employ from the fact that the report had gone out that the Sioux and the Utes were on the war path, and all the trappers knew that these two tribes were the strongest hostile tribes in the west, and when fifty miles from Bent's Fort we never knew that we were safe and the trappers all had confidence in Uncle Kit's judgment that he seldom made a mistake in locating his trapping ground, and further more he had more influence with the Indians than any other man in the country, so they worked rather for him than take chances with any one else.
The next morning after we reached Bent's Fort I heard Mr. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux talking with Carson in regard to the trappers. Mr. Bent said, "Carson, I wish you would take as many as you can handle, for they all have an Indian scare on them and are afraid to go out, and every one of them is indebted to us for board now; and we can not afford to support them if they loaf around here all winter," to which Carson replied, "I can handle five or six of them, and that is all I want, I can not afford to take men out in the mountains and board them all winter for nothing." After thinking a minute Carson asked, "How many of the men have their own traps and blankets?"
Mr. Roubidoux said, he thought nearly all of the trappers at the Fort had their own trapping outfits with them. Carson said he would think it over and see what he could do for them. That afternoon Carson and Bridger had a talk with regard to how many men they should take with them. Uncle Kit said, "We haven't horses enough to carry more than three or four besides us three." Bridger said, "That will not make any difference, if they want to go they can foot it from here to the head of South Platte as that's where we are going to trap this winter; and when they are through in the spring they can foot it back again. We have nine pack horses besides our saddle horses, and we can pack out to the trapping grounds, an outfit for five or six men besides our own all in good shape."
That afternoon Uncle Kit and Bridger made arrangements with six men to go with us to the head of South Platte to trap Beaver that winter. Carson and Bridger agreed to furnish them with flour, coffee, salt, and tobacco for which Carson and Bridger were to have half of the furs that each man caught, Carson and Bridger to pack the grub and every thing else out to the trapping ground and also to pack the furs and all their other things back to Bent's Fort in the Spring. After Carson and Bridger had selected the six men they wanted, it seemed as though all the trappers at the Fort wanted to go with them. Carson told them he had engaged all he could handle. The next two days we spent in getting ready to go to our trapping grounds. On the morning of the third day every thing in readiness we bid farewell to all the people at the Fort and struck out for the trapping grounds and our winter's work. The men that had to walk did not wait for us but started as soon as they had breakfast.
Uncle Kit told them where we would camp the first night. They got there before we did, and they had killed the fattest deer I ever saw and had killed a Cub Bear. They were skinning them when we got to camp. The deer was a spike buck and when he was skinned he was as white as a sheep from pure fat. The reader may be sure we were not long in unpacking and getting ready for supper; every one was tired and hungry for we had not had any thing to eat since morning. For my supper I roasted two of the cub's feet, and I have never enjoyed a meal since that tasted better. While we were eating Jim Bridger looked at me and said, "Will, you have the best of me tonight, but when we get to the Beaver grounds I'll have a Beaver's tail roasted for my supper and then I'll be even with you."
I never saw a band of men enjoy a meal more than those men did that night. In this climate people have better appetites than any climate I have ever been. I think the reason for this was the air was so pure and invigorating and it naturally required more food to sustain the body and keep it in good health, and at that time sickness was very rare in that part of the country. It would seem unreasonable to tell how much meat a man ate at one meal, especially when out on a trip like this when he was out in the open air all the time, night as well as day.
The third day after leaving this camp we struck the South Platte river, and now we had another change of meat, which was mountain sheep. This is in my opinion the best wild game that roams the forest.
We made an early camp that night and Uncle Kit said to Jim Bridger and me, "You two boys get the meat for supper and the rest of us will look after the horses." We picked up our guns and started up the river; we had not gone far when in looking up on a high bluff we saw a band of mountain sheep. Jim said, "Now if we can reach that little canyon," and he pointed to one just ahead of us, "without them fellows seeing us we will sure have something good for supper." This we succeeded in doing and then we crawled around until we were within fifty yards of our game. We selected a couple of spring lambs and fired and brought them both down. When the men at the camp heard the firing a couple of the men came running to help us bring our game to camp. We soon had it dressed and ready for cooking, and it was good and every one of the men ate as if they enjoyed it as much as I did. While we were eating supper Jim told us a story of his coming in contact with a panther that had just killed a sheep, and he said it was a miracle that it did not kill him. He was coming down a bluff on a little trail and as good luck had it he had his gun in his hand. The panther had the sheep behind a rock and as the panther sprang at him he fired and broke its neck.
"It was the luckiest shot I ever fired," said he, "for if I had not had my gun all ready to fire he would have torn me to pieces before I could have helped myself."
Uncle Kit said, "Well, Jim, you were in about as close a place as I got into once. I went out from my camp fire one night perhaps forty yards to a small tree. I didn't have any pistol or gun with me, I had nothing but my hunting knife to protect myself with when a half-grown panther sprang out of the tree on me and, maybe you think I didn't have a lively time there with him for a few minutes, but I finally got the best of him by cutting him almost to pieces. He tore my buck skin breeches and coat pretty near off me and left this scar on my arm before I finished him," and Carson pulled his sleeve up and showed us a scar that must have been torn almost to the bone.
Two days from this we reached the place where we made our headquarters for the winter. That night the men talked it over and made their plans how many should camp together. They agreed that there should be three in each camp as there were nine of us in all. That made the number even in each camp. Next morning they all put out leaving me to look out for the horses and things in general.
For the benefit of the reader I will explain how we arranged a camp where a number of men were associated together in trapping beaver. We built our camps about four miles apart which gave each camp two miles square to work on, and this was ample room, for this was a new field and Beaver was as thick as rats around a wharf.
While they were gone I took my gun and started out to take a little stroll around where the horses were feeding. I had gone but a short distance when I looked up. On a mountain, north of me I saw a band of elk with perhaps seventy five or a hundred in it, and they were coming directly towards me; I was satisfied in my mind that they were going to the river to get water. I dropped down behind a log and waited for them to come close to me. The nearest one was twenty yards from me when I fired. I shot at a two-year-old heifer and broke her neck. I then went back to camp to see if any of the men had come in as it was near noon. I thought some of them would be back and sure enough in a few minutes they all came together; I told them what I had done, and Uncle Kit said, "Jim and I will get dinner and the balance of you go and help Willie bring in his cow."
We found her in fine condition. We soon had her skinned and in camp, and we found dinner ready when we got back. After dinner Uncle Kit said, "Come boys let's pack up and move to our camp which is only about a half a mile from here, and tomorrow, while Jim and me are at work on our shanty, Willie can help you to move to your quarters, and you can be building your shanties, so we can get to work as soon as possible."
We gathered every thing together and moved it to the ground where we were going to make our winter quarters, and Uncle Kit and Jim selected the place to build our cabin, and the men all turned to and went to chopping the logs and putting up the cabin. By night the body of the cabin was almost up, but the reader must bear in mind that this was not a very large house. It was ten feet one way, and twelve the other, with a fire place built in one corner. They built the walls of the shack seven foot high and then covered it with small poles, covered the poles with fine bows and then there was from six to eight inches of dirt packed on them and the cracks were stuffed with mud. The door was split out of logs called puncheons and was fastened together with wooden pins, driven into holes, bored with an auger. This way of building a house to live in through the winter may seem strange to the readers who are accustomed to all the luxuries of the modern home of civilization; but we considered our cabin very good quarters, and we were very comfortable that winter.
The first morning after we were settled in our new home we commenced setting traps for Beaver. Jim Bridger was the lucky man of the whole outfit in catching Beaver all that winter. Each man had twelve traps which was called a string, and a number of times that winter Bridger had a beaver in every one of his traps in the morning. I had watched him set his traps many times and I tried to imitate him in every particular, but I never had the luck he had.
Uncle Kit told me a number of times that winter that it was a good trapper that made an average of catching five Beaver a day, during the trapping season. We were all very successful this winter. Beaver was very plentiful, as there had never been any trappers in this part of the country before, and besides that was an exceptional good winter for trapping. The winter was quite cold, but there was not much snow all winter for that country. We stayed here and trapped until the very last of March, and when we had the furs all baled and ready for packing we found we did not have horses enough to take them all out at one time, so Uncle Kit and Jim Bridger packed the seven horses and rode the other two and struck out for Bent's Fort, telling us they would come back as soon as they could make the trip; and to our surprise they were back on the tenth day.
We had everything ready for them to break up camp when they came back, and we had all we could carry the second time. All of the nine horses were packed, and we all had to walk to Bent's Fort.
After we left the Platte we took up a stream called Sand Creek which leads to the divide between the Platte and the Arkansas rivers. After we camped that night Carson said to the boys, "Now we have had a pretty good variety of meat this winter, but we haven't had any antelope, but we are in the greatest country for antelope in the west now. Can't one of you boys kill one tomorrow for supper? But I am sorry for Jim and Will for Jim can't get a Beaver's tail off of it, and there won't be any bear's foot for Will to eat."
Jim answered, "You needn't worry about Will and me, for we may make you sorry twice, for when we get at the Antelope there may not be enough for the balance of you."
After breakfast next morning two of the men struck ahead in order to get the antelope. Near the trail about ten o'clock we overtook them, and they had killed two nice young antelope. One said that if they had had ammunition enough with them they could have loaded the train with antelope. That day we saw a number of bands of antelope, and I venture to say there were as many as eight hundred or a thousand in each band.
At supper that night Jim Bridger and I convinced Uncle Kit that we had not lost our appetite, if we didn't have Beaver's tail and Bear's foot for supper.
The second day after leaving this camp we landed at Bent's Fort about the middle of the afternoon. That evening and all the next day Carson and Bridger were counting the pelts and paying off the men for the furs they had trapped during the winter. Each man had a mark of his own which he put on all his hides as he took them off the animal. I noticed one man always clipped the left ear; that was his mark. Having a private mark for each man saved a great deal of trouble and dispute when the time came to separate the furs and give each man his due.
I heard Carson and Bridger talking after they had settled with the men, and Bridger said, "We have done twice as well as I expected we would do the past winter."
Carson answered, "Jim, we had an extra good crew of men. Every man worked for all that was in him and when they earned a dollar for themselves they earned one for us. I am more than satisfied with our winter's work and what it brought us."
He then asked Jim and me what we intended to do that summer; Jim answered, "We are going back to Fort Kerney to pilot emigrants across to California, and it is time we were off now, for I believe by the first of May there will be lots of emigrants there, and we want to get there, and get the first train out, and if it is possible we are going to make two trips across the plains this season."
The next morning Carson left Bent's Fort taking his four horses with him going to his home at Taos, New Mexico, and Jim and I, taking five horses, pulled out for Fort Kerney. Nothing of interest happened to us on the way; and we made the trip in eleven days. As soon as we got to the Fort, we called on the General; he was very glad to see us, and invited us to stay all night with him. We accepted his invitation. That evening at supper General Kerney mentioned my rescuing the two women at the head of Honey Lake the year before; he recounted the incident very much as it took place.
I said to him, "General, how in the name of common sense did you hear of all that?"
He said, "Why the eastern papers have been full of it; and it will be the best thing for you two men that could have happened; for no doubt there will be hundreds of people here on their way to California, and when they see you two men who are the heroes of that expedition they will all want your services to pilot them across the plains, and I assure you if there is any thing I can do to assist either of you in any way I am more than willing to do it. I heard yesterday that there were several small trains on the way coming from St. Joe, and they will be here in a few days, so you are in good time to catch the first of them, and I want you both to stay right here with me until you make arrangements to leave for California. We will take a trip down the road every day, and if there are any emigrants coming we will meet them."
[Illustration: The first thing we knew the whole number that we had first seen was upon us.]
After breakfast next morning an orderly brought in our horses, all saddled, the General's as well as ours. We all mounted and started down the road. We had made five or six miles when we saw an emigrant train coming towards us. The General said, "Look, boys, there they come now. Let me do the talking."
The General had his uniform on, and Jim and I were dressed in buck-skin from head to foot, and we were a rather conspicuous trio, as we rode up to them. There were six or eight men on horse back, riding ahead of the train. As we met them the General saluted them. One of the men said, "Is this the commander at the Fort?"
The General answered, "I am. My name is Kerney."
One of the men said, "General, can you tell us whether the Indians are on the war path or not between here and Salt Lake?"
The General answered, "I surely can. Every tribe of Indians between here and the Sierra Nevada mountains is on the war path, and the emigrants who get through this year without losing their lives or their stock may consider themselves lucky," and pointing to Jim and me, he continued. "These two men took a train through last year and only lost two men and would not have lost them if they had obeyed orders."
One of the men asked, "Are these the men that piloted a train across and had the trouble at Honey Lake last year?"
The General answered, "Yes, sir, they are, and that boy sitting on that iron gray horse is the boy that planned and led the rescue of the two women from the Indians."
One asked, "Are these the two men the papers said so much about last fall? I think one was named Jim Bridger and the other's name was William Drannan."
General Kerney smiled and answered, "Yes, these are the very men."
By this time the train had come up, and the other men of the company gathered around us and being told who we were they all shook hands with us, besides a great many of the ladies got out of the wagons and came to us offering their hands. The people were all from Missouri and Illinois. A man by the name of Tullock from Missouri asked us what we would charge to pilot their train to California. Jim Bridger turned to me and said, "Will, what do you think it would be worth?"
I said to the man who had asked the question, "Drive on about five miles, and you will find a little creek and plenty of grass. Go into camp there and select five or ten men to act as a committee, and we will be there at four o'clock to meet you. You must give your committee full power to deal with us. The committee must know the number of wagons, the number of men, and the number of grown women; it will be more satisfactory to you as well as to us to deal with a few men than for the whole train to take a part in the business."
This plan seemed to meet with the approval of the men, so General Kerney, Jim Bridger and I left them and rode back to the Fort. On the way back the General asked Bridger how much he meant to charge the emigrants to take the train across.
Bridger said, "What do you say, Will?"
I answered, "Jim, I look at it this way, we are held responsible for the people's lives as well as their stock to get them to California in safety; just think of the responsibility we are assuming; and as far as I am concerned I will not undertake the job for less then four dollars a day."
Bridger answered, "That settles it, Will, that's just my price."
The General said, "I think you are very moderate in your charges; I should think they would jump at such a chance; for I assure you, you will have your hands full day and night."
After we had eaten our dinner at the Fort Gen. Kerney accompanied us back to the emigrant's camp. On our arriving there we found the committee waiting to receive us. Mr. Tullock introduced us to the others, and then said, "We want you to tell us what amount of money you will charge us to pilot us across the plains to California."
I said, "Gentlemen, I want to ask you a few questions before I answer yours; how many wagons have you in this train?" Mr. Tullock answered, "Sixty four." "How many men?" "One hundred and forty-eight." "How many women?" "Sixty four."
I then said, "I will now answer your question as to our price. If we take charge of this train from here to California our price will be four dollars a day to each of us, with this understanding that Mr. Bridger has entire charge of the wagons both day and night, and I to have the charge of the scout force. Now, gentlemen, I don't suppose any of you know what the duty of a scout is, and I will explain it to you. Twenty miles from here we will strike a country where all the Indians are hostile, and for the next twelve hundred miles they are all on the war path; now, if we undertake this job we shall want twelve good men to help me in scouting; each of the twelve to be mounted, and our duty will be to protect the train; three men to ride in the rear of the train and three on each side, each three to keep about a half a mile from the train, and the other three in the lead, and the duty of these scouts will be when they see Indians coming towards the train to notify Mr. Bridger at once, so he can corral the wagons to protect the women and children and the stock, and my duty will be to ride to the highest hills on either side of the road to keep a lookout for Indians all through the day, and at night to watch for their camp fires. Now, gentlemen, I have told you our terms and if you decide to employ us, it will take four or five days to drill the outfit so it will be safe for us to start on this long and dangerous journey. Now, it is for you to say what you will do."
Gen. Kerney then spoke for the first time. "Let me say a word, gentlemen. These men know every camping ground and every watering place and also every Indian run way from here to the Sierra Nevada mountains, and you could not find better men for guides on the frontier, and the price they ask for the dangerous service they will give you is the least you can expect to give."
The committee walked away from us a short distance, and talked among them selves about a half an hour, and then came to us, and said they would accept our offer. Bridger then said, "Now gentlemen I want you to pick out twelve men that are not afraid to ride alone and have number-one eyesight and good hearing, for no doubt there will be many times when the fate of the whole train will depend on these twelve men. Will will start in to train them tomorrow morning if they are ready, and he will tell them and show them just what they have got to do; and I want every teamster to have his team hooked to his wagon by nine o'clock in the morning. It is not necessary for you to take down your tents or move any of your camp equipage at all; for I will drill the teamsters out on that little prairie yonder," and he pointed to a clear space a little ways up the road.
After these arrangements were made General Kerney went back to the Fort, and Jim and I staid at the emigrants' camp that night, so we could be up early the next morning to commence our work of drilling the men for the coming trip. My men reported to me soon after breakfast, and they were all fairly well mounted and well armed, each man having a pistol and a rifle. We mounted our horses and rode about a half a mile away from camp. We stopped and I explained to them what we had to do. After showing them and drilling them about two hours I asked them if any of them had ever shot from his horse's back. They said they never had; neither had they ever seen any one shoot that way. I went a short distance to a tree and made a cross mark with my knife. I then said to them, "Now, my men I will show you what you must learn to do."
I then rode a hundred yards from the tree I had marked, turned my horse, put spurs to him and had him running at his best. When I came near the tree, I fired my pistol and also my rifle as I passed the tree and didn't miss the mark over a foot with either shot. When I returned the men were examining the bullet holes I had put in the tree. One of them said, "That is wonderful shooting. But what seems to be a mystery is how you can use both your gun and your pistol so near together."
I showed them how it was done, and then I said to them, "You will have to practice this way of shooting when fighting with the Indians. They never stand up and fight like a white man does, and if they should attack us they will be on horse back, as that is their general mode of fighting, and you are liable to meet them any moment, and you will be in a country some of the time where you can not see a hundred yards ahead of you, and you must always be prepared to give them a warm reception. When we come out here this afternoon I want you to all try your hand at shooting the way I have just done, from off your horse's back with him on the run."
I met Jim at dinner, and asked him what success he had training his teamsters. He answered, "Why, we will get there bye and bye, for every man tries to do his best."
At that moment two of the committee came to where Jim and I stood talking and said, "There is another large train of emigrants in sight. What are you going to do with them?"
"I don't intend to do any thing with them," Jim answered. "It is the business of you men of the committee to look after them, but if they join this train they will have to bear their share of the expense, the same as you do."
One of the men asked how much extra we would charge to take the other train under our protection. Jim answered, "If there are forty wagons or over that number, we will require one dollar a day extra and that will lighten the expense on this train, and they must comply with all the rules this train does; and if they are going to join us, I want them to do so at once, for I want to get away from here day after tomorrow."
The man said he would attend to the matter at once, which he did, and all of the new train joined us with the exception of four wagons and eleven men. These eleven men claimed they could take care of themselves at all times and in every place, and they pulled out alone.
The train over which Jim and I had control now numbered one hundred and four wagons, and we had to work day and night to get them in shape to start out on the road. We left there the third day after taking charge of the train. That afternoon when I took my scouts out to practice shooting, I had considerable sport at their expense. They were all perfectly willing to try their guns and pistols, but they wanted some one to take the lead. No one was willing to be the first one to shoot. So I said, "I will settle the matter this way. I will call the name of a man, and he must take his place and shoot." The first man I called rode out saying, "I have never shot from the back of a horse." I answered, "Well, there is always a first time for everything, and the quicker you start in the sooner you will learn."
He rode off a short distance, whirled his horse and started for the tree. When he got to within a few steps of the mark he fired his pistol, and made a very good shot, but the report of the pistol frightened his horse, and he wheeled and ran in the opposite direction of the one he was going, and he had run about two hundred yards before he could stop him. When the man rode back and saw the shot he had made, he felt encouraged, and said, "I want to try that over again."
I answered, "All right, load your pistol and try again, and I will ride by your side and perhaps that will quiet your horse."
This time he did fine for a green hand at that way of shooting. The next man I called on fired his pistol before he got near the tree, and his horse commenced to jump, and he dropped his gun. At that moment Gen. Kerney rode up to us and said to the man, "That is one time, young man, when if you had been in an Indian fight you might have lost your scalp and you surely would have lost your gun. You must do better than that. You must all take an interest in what Mr. Drannan is trying to teach you to do, for you will need all the knowledge you can get to protect not only your selves but the whole train before you get to California. The Indians are all on the war path and you are liable to have a brush with them any day after you leave Fort Kerney, and Mr. Drannan is fully competent to teach you how to meet them, if you will follow his instructions."
After talking a little longer to the men the Gen. rode away; and I was glad to see that his advice had a good effect on the men; they all seemed anxious to try their hand at shooting instead of being backward as they had been before, and I heard one of them remark to another, "Say, man, we have got to learn to shoot from our horses for that General knows what he is talking about, and now let's get in and learn as quick as we can."
After they had all had a try single handed at the mark on the tree I said, "Now men, we will take a shot all together."
I then made a mark on the ground, about twenty steps from the tree we had been shooting at. I then said to them, "We will go back to our starting place," which was about two hundred yards, "then we will form in, line, and we will make a dash as fast as our horses can carry us. When we reach this mark I have made on the ground I will shout, "Fire!" and every man must be ready to fire together, and be careful that you keep in line together; for if you break your ranks in an Indian fight you are almost sure to lose the battle; this drill will train your horses at the same time it is training you."
We rode back, formed in line, and made the charge, and I was very much surprised at the way the men all acquitted them selves. When I gave the word "fire," the report was almost as one sound, so close were their shots together. I went up to the tree and I found that every man had the mark. I told them that they had done exceptionally well.
"It is getting near night, so we will go back to camp and after supper we will practice signaling for one to use in case of danger to the others."
When we got back to camp Bridger had just finished corralling the whole train, and I was surprised to see how neatly it was done considering the short time they had been drilling; I asked Jim when he would be ready to pull out. He answered, "I am going to order an early breakfast for tomorrow morning; and we will pull out as soon as we can after we have eaten it. I want to make it to the crossing of the Platte tomorrow, and it will take us all of the next day to cross the river, and as the river has commenced to rise, the quicker we get across it, the better it will be for us; after we cross the Platte we will have no more trouble with high water until we get to Green river."
After supper I got my scouts together, and we went outside of the corral; we all sat down on a log. I then asked them if any of them could mimic a Coyote; they all looked at me a moment, and then one said, "I don't think any of us ever saw a Coyote. What are they? What do they look like?"
I could not help laughing, for I thought everyone knew what a Coyote was. I told them that a Coyote was a species of Wolf, not as dangerous as the Grey Wolf but three of them could make more noise than all the dogs around the camp could, and I said, "You will see them in droves between here and California, being so numerous the Indians pay no attention to them; and we scouts often use the howl of a Coyote as a signal to each other because this noise will not attract the attention of the Indians; I will now show you how the Coyote howls."
I then gave two or three yelps mimicking the Coyote, and before I had given the yelp the Coyotes answered me. They were about two hundred yards from us in the brush. Some of the men jumped to their feet exclaiming, "What was that?"
When I could stop laughing I told them those were my Coyote friends, answering me.
The Coyotes and I kept up the howling several minutes, and quite a crowd of men and women gathered around me, listening to the noise, and they all wanted to know what it was that I was mimicking. Before I could answer them Jim Bridger, who had come near unobserved by me, said, "Will, suppose we give them the double howl?"
I said, "All right," and we howled together just a few times when the Coyotes in the brush turned loose and such howling I never had heard before in all my experience among them. A number of the women rushed up to Jim and me, frightened nearly into spasms, crying, "oh, is there any danger, of those dreadful beasts attacking the camp?"
Jim laughed heartily and assured them there was no danger as the Coyote was the greatest coward in the forest and would run at the sight of a man. I told the men that they would not have any scout duty to do until after we crossed the Platte river, so we could all ride along the trail together and practice the coyote signal, for they would need to know it as soon as they crossed the Platte river.
The next morning we were astir very early, had our breakfast and were on the road. A little after sunrise that morning, just as we were pulling out, Jim said to me, "When we are within five or six miles of the Platte I want you to go on ahead of the train and select a camping ground as near the crossing of the river as you can; for if we camp near the crossing we can get the train over the river very much quicker than we can if we camp a distance back."
I left them in time to reach the river an hour before the train and had good luck selecting a place to camp not a quarter of a mile from the crossing. I found a little grove of timber with a beautiful little stream of water running through it which I thought was just the place for us to camp that night. I went back and reported to Jim. He said, "Why, I ought to have remembered that little grove, but I clean forgot it."
As soon as Jim had corralled the train, we turned our horses over to the herders and struck out down to the river to see what condition the water was in, and to our satisfaction we found that it had just commenced to rise. Jim said, "As soon as you have eaten breakfast in the morning, Will, I wish you would ride down here and cross the river and see if the ford is clear of quick sand. If there is nothing of that kind to bother us we ought to get the whole outfit over by noon."
When we returned to camp supper was ready. While Jim and I were eating, about a dozen ladies came to us; among them was an old lady who said, "Can't you men coax the wolves to howl again to night?"
Jim answered, "Yes, but I will bet my old boots that before another week has passed you will want us to stop their howling so you can sleep," to which she answered, "Well, where do they live? We don't see or hear them in the day time."
Jim told her that the Coyotes stayed in hollow logs or caves or in thick brush in the day time anywhere out of sight. Just at that moment a Coyote yelped; he was up the river a short distance and for the next two hours there was a continual howl. I asked the old lady if she thought the wolves needed any coaxing to make them yelp. She said, no, she guessed, Mr. Bridger was right when he said they were noisy. Early in the morning I did not wait for breakfast but mounted my horse and went down to the river. I crossed it at the ford to ascertain whether there was quick sand in the ford enough to interfere with the crossing of the emigrant train.
I will here explain to the reader that it was very necessary to examine the fords of the Platte river, as it was a treacherous stream in the way of quick sand, but this time I found nothing in the way to interfere with our crossing. When I got back to camp they were just sitting down to breakfast. I told Jim that there would be no trouble in crossing the river, to which he replied, "All right, when we get ready to cross I want you to lead the train. We will cross twenty-five wagons at a time, and I will have all the mounted men ride on each side of the wagons to keep the teams in their places."
We were successful in landing all the wagons in safety and were all on the other side by eleven o'clock. I asked Jim where we should camp that night; he asked me how far it was to Quaking Asp Grove. I told him I thought it was about nine miles to that place.
He said, "Well, I think we can make it there in good season and that will be a good place to camp."
I now instructed my scouts what their duty was, and we pulled out, I taking the lead from one to two and a half miles ahead of the train.
Late that afternoon I discovered considerable Indian signs where they had crossed the main trail. I followed their trail quite a way and decided that they had passed that way about two days before.
After we went into camp I rode to the top of a high hill about a mile away to look for Indian camp fires. I was soon convinced that there were no Indians near us and started back to camp. I had got within a quarter of a mile of the camp when I saw two men sitting on a log just ahead of me; I rode up to them, and when I spoke to them I recognized them as two of the eleven that left us with the four wagons at Fort Kerney. I said to them, "Men, what are you doing here, and where are your teams and the rest of the men who went with you?"
They answered, "The rest of the men are all dead, killed by the Indians night before last; we made our escape by running off in the dark, and we haven't had a bite to eat since supper that night, and in fact we did not have much supper then, for the savages came on us when we were eating."
I said, "What became of your wagons and teams?"
They said they did not know what became of them, for they made their escape as soon as the Indians came upon them; that they ran a little ways and stopped and listened to the cries of the others as long as there were any left, and then wandering around through the woods ever since, not knowing where they were or what would become of them, and they continued, "We sat down here because we were so weak we could go no further."
One then asked where the rest of the train was. I replied, pointing, "It is about a quarter of a mile over there."
At that, one said to the other, "Let's go and get something to eat." I showed them the way to the train, and as they were intimately acquainted with some of the emigrants they soon had their hunger appeased.
While they were eating, they told us their experience. Three or four miles before they camped for the night they saw the Indians. There were at least seventy-five of them. They were on the north side of the road. They would come close to the road and then disappear again.
"We tried to get near to talk to them, but they ran away as if they were afraid of us. When we camped that evening there were about twenty-five of them on a hill not more than a hundred and fifty yards from us. Two of the men started to go up to them, but they ran away, and that was the last we saw of them, and so we made up our minds that they had gone, and we thought no more about them. It was good and dark when we sat down to supper, and how so many of them came upon us without making any noise is a mystery to us. The first thing we knew, the whole number we had first seen was upon us, and of all the noise, the yells and whoops we ever heard, they made the worst. If they had come up out of the ground, we would not have been more surprised, and the arrows were flying in every direction. As it happened we two were sitting a little away from the rest of the men eating our supper, and at their first yell we jumped up and made for the nearest brush; our guns were all in the wagons, and the Indians were between us and the wagons, so we had no way to defend ourselves. We went a little ways into the brush, and then we looked back and saw the Indians using their tomahawks on the men we had left, and in a few minutes all the noise was over and we supposed all the nine were killed."
Jim Bridger then said, "You two men are the luckiest chaps I ever heard of. You may be sure that the Indians did not see you that night, or they would have trailed you up and had your scalps before the next morning."
One of the committee men came to where Jim and I were sitting and said,"What shall we do about finding and burying those bodies?"