About noon, while we were in camp, a gentleman, apparently some forty-five years of age, came down the trail from the mountains. His outfit consisted of two fine looking mules, sleek and fat, with all his traps neatly packed. His riding rig and arms were all of the best; his blankets and clothing clean and neat. The owner himself was a large-sized, fine-looking man, and in every way presented the appearance of a gentleman. We were near the road and as from the direction he had come and the hour being noon, it was natural to suppose that he would make camp. We invited him to stop and share our shade tree with us. Politeness and hospitality can be, and often is, extended in the camp of the traveler as well as in the abode of a dweller.
As the stranger unsaddled we noticed his movements were graceful. His mules were perfectly gentle and seemed to understand their master's kindness to them. This captured me individually, for if there are more unpardonable sins allowed than are on the list, and it was my duty to furnish another, I believe I would hand in "cruelty to dumb brutes."
I have seen men who are considered both good and great by some people—themselves included—who would get angry with their animals and beat them in a cruel, senseless manner, even showing a murderous spirit. I have always believed that such persons would serve human beings the same way when in anger, only they are too cowardly to take the immediate consequences.
Our visitor accepted our invitation to dinner. We soon found that he was an "old-timer," having been in California and the west for many years. We insisted on his resting over Sunday with us and, finally, he consented.
Our conversation led on from one thing to another until our new acquaintance became quite communicative. His conversation was very interesting, as he had traveled a great deal in the west: He had visited Salt Lake City and knew many places and people that were familiar to us. Finally, he gave us his name and related the following story, as near as I can remember it:
He was a native of one of the Middle States. Was left an orphan with a small fortune, some thirty thousand dollars. His disposition was to make the best use possible of his time and money. After finishing at the common schools he attended an eastern college, studying medicine, etc.
While at college he was allowed a stipulated amount for pocket money. This was always used prudently, but not stingily, allowing himself all the pleasures he desired, such as would be proper in good society; but never spending a cent in vices of any kind.
At the same college there were a great many young men, sons of well-known capitalists. Many of these wealthy young men did not have occasion, seemingly, to spend any more money than did our friend; but many of them were addicted to habits that soon emptied their purses, and they would have to borrow, sometimes coming to the "Doctor" (as we will now call him).
Now, inasmuch as these rich young fellows were often "broke," whilst the Doctor always had money and to loan, and at the same time never showed any penuriousness, it became rumored that he was immensely wealthy. This he knew nothing about, as he was rather retiring in his disposition and did not take part in the gossips of the day.
As time went on he found himself becoming very popular and sought after, being invited to parties, balls, receptions, etc. He thought nothing strange of this, as he met others whom he knew to be his inferiors, although much wealthier. Money influence never entered his mind, as he felt content with his little fortune, believing that, with a good profession and his start, he would be independent. His mind was at ease. He neither looked for a money-match or supposed that he was a "catch" for anyone.
Like all other places, this, where the Doctor was, had its belle—the handsomest, sweetest-dispositioned, most unselfish and kind-hearted divinity upon earth. All the young bloods were in love with her. This was before people got "mashed." Of course, she treated them all so nicely that each fool thought he was the favored one. All divinities do this, I am told.
The Doctor, according to his own words, really fell in love with this she-angel. She returned his affection with compound interest—in her eye. The courtship was all that two fond hearts could wish, as the Doctor's purse was, as before described, always equal to the occasion. All envied his success, yet respected his character and perseverance.
Everything looked bright. So the Doctor applied himself to his studies with double vigor, looking forward to the happy day when, with his diploma and his beautiful, intelligent, loving wife, he could go to his home and old friends and settle down to business, with as bright a future as ever man hoped for.
After graduating, the wedding soon followed. Everything went off in proper shape, no lack of means being in the way. The Doctor never asked or carded what the bride's fortune was; her heart and love were all the dowry he wanted. Having given his fullest and purest love, he fully believed that hers was as fully returned.
I do not recollect just where this occurred; but this much I do remember, that, after the wedding, the Doctor took his bride aboard a boat and started for home, supposing she understood his intentions, as he had talked of nothing else but their future home and happiness.
On arriving at a point where they took a conveyance, in a different direction to what the lady expected, she asked:
"Where are you going?"
The Doctor replied, "This is our way to—"
"Why, are you not going to Europe on a wedding tour?"
"Well, no; I had not thought of that. We are going home. We cannot well afford a trip across the ocean; besides, I am anxious to get home and attend to business."
This occurred in the presence of many persons.
The divinity(?) flew into a terrible rage, asked him who he was that business called him home, and that he could not afford a wedding tour.
In relating this the Doctor seemed to go through the whole scene in his feelings, the tears often showing in his eyes. He did not pretend to relate all that had been said.
Imagination can only picture his feelings when he learned that there was no love, that all was mercenary on her part, and as he never had in any way meant deception, it was a cruel blow. But like a true man he decided at once and took her back home; offered her a divorce which she refused. He gave her most of his fortune and started for California, probably as sad a man as ever crossed the plains.
While in California he was prospered and soon accumulated quite a fortune. After a time his wife seemed to repent of her cruelty to him. Wrote him kind and loving letters, asking forgiveness and excused herself for her unnatural conduct, by saying it was on account of her ill-health. The Doctor, with kind-hearted simplicity finally believed her and returned.
She had spent the most that had been given her. The doctor now commenced anew, with all his former hopes and aspirations rebuilt as much as possible. All went well for awhile.
Two children were born and the doctor really felt happy. But all was sham and hypocrisy with his wife. She was now acting so as to get hold of his money and property. At length another scene was enacted. The doctor was told all that was wanted of him was his money. A divorce was again offered and urged. The lady refused, but declared it her intention to hunt him wherever he went, till the day of his death, and get all she could out of him, using the children as a means of working upon his honor and her rights as wife, to demand all she possibly could.
The Doctor again left for the west, leaving all his property. For many years his whole aim had been to keep track of the condition of his children, and send money for their education to a trusted agent; and keep himself hidden from the knowledge of his wife.
In doing this he had become a wanderer upon the earth, but he was still a gentleman.
I learned more about this man afterwards—of his private business. He was quite a successful prospector. But few if any ever heard this story from his lips, except ourselves. And as it was not given me for publication, I have given no names.
Like this man there are thousands in the far west who carry, in their bosoms, facts that would be far more interesting than the average fictitious romance.
We found the road from the Gila to Camp Apache to be most of the way about the roughest any of us had ever seen. It was all we could possibly do to get over some of the rough places, but finally made the trip without break or accident.
The country in and around Camp Apache is quite picturesque. Grass, timber, small streams and springs were quite plentiful from here to Cooley's ranch, and the country is pleasant to travel through.
At Cooley's we were hospitably entertained and given much useful information. From him we learned the condition of the new settlements being made on the Little Colorado, under the leadership of Lot Smith and Brothers Allen, Lake and Ballinger. We now felt somewhat satisfied with our trip, realizing that we had been the most successful prospectors into the land of Arizona, our reports having been received and acted upon.
The greater portion of the settlements in Arizona, New Mexico and Old Mexico are on lands explored by our party on this trip. From Cooley's ranch we followed down the country to Stinson's farm, now Snowflake.
Mr. Stinson had also visited the Mormon camps and spoke highly of their labors. It was now June. As we neared the settlements we felt a feeling of joy at the thought of meeting friends from home.
On arriving at Allen's camp we met Prest. Wells, Apostles E. Snow and B. Young with several others, just from the settlements of Utah. Here we learned of the death of Bishop Roundy by drowning. I was glad to meet the brethren. Brothers Stewart, Pratt and Ivins had expressed a desire to return home. I had intended to go with my son Wiley to where we supposed Brothers Smith and Tenney were still laboring, but here learned that they had gone home.
Prest. Wells advised me to go home. I told him I hated to return just then, saying that I did not feel as though I had filled my mission. He addressed me a little sharply, speaking as though he did not believe me and telling me I had better go in with his company. Whether Brother Wells believed me or not I was willing to stay if left to follow my own feelings, but I did as he advised.
On the way I noticed a disposition to treat me rather coolly, many times being snubbed when offering some information about our trip. I could not understand this very well at the time.
On arriving at Lot Smith's camp I met my daughter, Mary, and her husband, J. Jordan. They had been called to assist in settling this country. My son, Wiley, remained a short time with them, then came on to Fairview, our home. The trip in from the Little Colorado was not very pleasant to me; the mode of travel was so different from what I had been accustomed to that I was continually out of humor. My mode of traveling was and still is to watch and take care of my stock, and give it all the advantages possible. I have always been able to go over country successfully with a common outfit, while I have heard of others, much better fitted up, failing.
We had made a trip of near four thousand miles and were now returning with the same animals we started with, some of them in better condition than when we left. Instead of getting credit for this, I learned, afterwards, that reports had been circulated to the effect that I was tyrannical and unjust, and these statements, doubtless, had their influence upon my friends. Nothing was said to me on the road about these reports, but I could see that something was "out of joint" from the treatment I received, which could not be particularly defined, but just such as would indicate indifference to me. Finally, it became so disagreeable that I concluded to travel alone; so I came on the last two days without a bite to eat, rather than be subject to the annoyances in the company with which I was then traveling. I got in thirty-six hours ahead of the rest.
The last day, crossing the Buckskin Mountain, I got quite hungry and thirsty. I had about a quart of corn that I intended to eat, but saved and fed it to my faithful little horse, "Tex," that had carried his rider, my son Wiley, already some three thousand five hundred miles.
"Tex" was in good condition and I had taken him to ride in from Little Colorado home. I would not do justice unless I mentioned this horse for he was the most reliable animal I ever knew. I gave him all the corn. I had a three pint canteen of water, when I was taking a drink "Tex" came up and licked the canteen and looked at me as though he wanted a taste. I set my hat on the ground, sinking the crown so as to form a dish then poured a little water in, then the horse would sup it up. I gave him the last drop although I was then dry and had a big half day's ride yet to make before getting to Johnston's settlement.
After baiting I saddled up, arriving at Navajo Wells about one hour by sun. There was some squaws watering their horses. I got them to give "Tex" a little water, but it was too filthy for me to drink. There I again baited half an hour then got on my horse telling him how hungry and thirsty I was and that I had given him all the advantage and now it was but fair for him to take me in twelve miles in a hurry. This he did in fine style scarcely breaking the gallop all the way.
I met President Young at Kanab. He was glad to see me and hear the report from Mexico. Brother Young was a true friend to me and understood my disposition. He never allowed anyone to speak against me; he knew my faults, also some of my virtues. One that he always, appreciated was my stubbornness; when I started on a trip, I had always stuck to it. I said nothing to him about my annoyances.
Brother Brigham expressed himself well satisfied with the results of our trip; said it was an opening for a greater work. I reported all the brethren good and faithful, doing honor to those we represented. I never knew until coming to Salt Lake that there was any dissatisfaction. I knew we had differed in our opinions sometimes about standing guard, but as I always took my turn and sometimes more, I never dreamed of anyone holding ill-feelings for being required to stand guard.
I think that these reports, and what grew out of them, have affected that mission and do to this day. Time will bring all things right. Many strange things are permitted that we cannot see any use in at the time, that afterwards turn to be a blessing.
I arrived home about the 1st of July, 1876, found my family all well; I settled down to work at once making saddle-trees, as they were in good demand, and my family needed the help they would bring.
I had been at home about one month when I received a note from President Young requesting me to come to the city as he wished to talk to me about the Mexican missions.
On meeting President Young in the city he said, "I would like to have you pick a few families and take charge of them and go into the far south and start a settlement. Would you like to do it?" I answered, "Yes, I will go."
"Whom would you like to go with you? I want the settling to stick, and not fail."
I replied, "Give me men with large families and small means, so that when we get there they will be too poor to come back, and we will have to stay."
He laughed and said it was a good idea.
While in Salt Lake receiving instructions from President Young and preparing to go on the colonizing mission, I heard for the first time of the hard stories told against me.
There is one thing I would like to say that I think should be considered by all Latter-day Saints, and that is, few men, possibly none, ever made an overland trip of four thousand miles over deserts and through the most dangerous country on the continent and got through without some little "family jars."
There had been attempts made to explore the southern country that had practically failed. President Young had expressed confidence in my ability to make the trip and so I felt determined to do my best.
I knew that our little mules and ponies were our dependence, for if we had lost them we might have perished, or at least suffered great hardships as well as losing time. And more still I realized the success or failure of our trip would have a great effect upon others who might follow after. All this made me extremely careful.
One fault I have always had, and with all my experience in life it still hangs to me, that is, anything that is clear to my understanding to be right I naturally think others ought to see the same. It was so on this trip. I naturally thought every man understood as well as I did the importance of taking care of our outfit.
I was so much discouraged at the effects of these reports that I felt as though I never wanted to take charge of another mission of any kind. I wrote a note to President Young, asking him to appoint someone else to take charge and I would go along as guide and interpreter.
President Young paid no attention to my suggestion. I went to Brother Woodruff and asked him to speak to Brother Brigham on the subject; instead of doing which he told me I was wrong to notice these reports, and that all men who were called to do a good work met opposition.
I told him that I really believed it would be a mistake to put me in charge of the colony; that I had been used to doing hard service so much that I had gotten in the habit of being arbitrary, and I was afraid I would not have patience to act as a presiding Elder should.
Brother Woodruff said he believed I was honest and sincere, and he would speak to Brother Brigham on the subject.
On visiting Brother Young, he said he wanted me to go ahead; that an angel could not please everybody. And added: "You know how to travel, how to take care of teams. You are better acquainted with the roads, the country, the natives and their language, and are better prepared to take charge of a company than any one I know of. Go ahead and do the best you can. When you get things started we can send some 'good' man to take your place, and you can go on and open up more new country. This is your mission."
With this understanding I went to work with a will to get ready for the trip. I still felt quite sore about the stories circulated, for they were not just. But one thing I had to acknowledge that made me a little careful what I said to Brother Brigham. He had warned me against one of the company who had volunteered to go. He advised me not to take him, saying that he would try to take the mission away from me and would make me trouble. This I should have listened to; but the man seemed so earnest and desirous to go that I pled for him, and Brother Young finally consented. I was served just right. Brother Brigham spoke truly. Anyone doubting it can investigate for themselves; I have said all I wish to about the matter.
Brother Brigham said he wanted volunteers; that no one would be called unless he was perfectly willing, otherwise rather desired them not to go.
The following names, with their families, were soon enrolled for the mission: P. C. Merrills, Dudley J. Merrills, Thos. Merrills, Adelbert Merrills, Henry C. Rogers, George Steel, Thomas Biggs, Ross R. Rogers, Joseph McRae and Isaac Turley. Notice was given that we would meet at St. George about Christmas and there organize, President Young intending to winter there. I had to work hard and make many shifts and trades to get an outfit sufficient to move my family in comfort.
I was a little late in starting on the road. P. C. Merrills and his family overtook us at Sevier Bridge. We traveled together to St. George. On arriving there we found all the company in camp in a school-house yard, with the privilege of using the house when needed in case of storm. It was now about the first of January and the weather was quite disagreeable. Here a Brother Williams joined us.
On looking over the outfit I soon found that many of the wagons were overloaded and that much of the loading being taken could be dispensed with. I advised the selling off of such as old stoves, sewing machines and many other heavy articles; but no one seemed to think but what they could pull their load.
My loading consisted of bedding, clothing, provisions, horse feed and such articles as were absolutely necessary. We had not ten pounds of anything that could be dispensed with. I considered it my duty to set the example, knowing that we had a hard trip before us and could not afford to haul anything but the actual necessities with the outfit on hand. I spoke to Brother Brigham about the situation.
He said, "Get your company in the best shape you can and as soon as possible move out. There is a nice little settlement, Santa Clara, on your road. There is a beautiful piece of sandy road from here to there, just such as will help you get the brethren to see the importance of lightening up. When you get there you can set up an auction store. The people are pretty well off and will be able to buy what you have to sell."
When all was ready we started out, and, as President Young said, when we got into the Santa Clara settlement many of the company were not only willing but anxious to lighten up.
The people of Santa Clara traded readily for the stuff, paying dried fruit, grain and some money. Sometimes the loading traded for was as heavy as that traded off. Brother Isaac Turley, who had traveled a portion of the road and who was an experienced traveler, was elected wagon-master. He advised the people not to be afraid to trade for corn, saying that he was willing to roll at a wheel to help get a sack of corn over a hard place, but did not like to strain his back to move an old stove along that was not worth hauling.
At this place we bade good-bye to President Young, who drove out to see us. He gave us his blessing and a few words of counsel. This was the last time I ever saw Brother Brigham—to me the best and greatest man I have ever known.
Our instructions were to go into the southern country and settle where we felt impressed to stop. The intention was to go on to Mexico eventually.
We passed down the Virgin river, crossed the Colorado at Stone's Ferry, then through Mineral Park, Walapai Valley, Cottonwood, Anvil Rock, Oaks and Willows and Walnut Creek, leaving Prescott to the left. We continued on the most direct route into Salt River valley.
The trip was made without losing an animal or suffering in any way worth mentioning; in fact, to this day many of the company speak of the trip as one of pleasure rather than suffering. Everything was under strict discipline. No one can travel safely through a wild, dangerous country and be neglectful, no matter what those may say who are too lazy to stand guard without grumbling.
One incident of the trip I will relate that might be profitable in putting others on their guard.
One day, while traveling through a hilly, broken country, my son Wiley and Chas. Rogers, both young lads, took their guns for a hunt. It was cloudy; I warned them not to go far from the road. This they intended to obey, but soon after they left the train the road turned off to the right and changed the direction. It soon commenced to storm very hard, and we went into camp. We were now uneasy about the boys. The storm was the first of the season—cold and wet, and the boys were without their coats. I tried to keep from showing anxiety for their mothers' sake; but I felt about as much concerned as I ever did, for I knew there was great danger. About night I went on to a high hill, piled up several cords of dried cedars and set fire to them. About 9 o'clock we heard a loud hello. We knew they were coming. They were almost dead with fatigue.
After finding they were lost they had traveled round and round to keep from freezing to death. Their strength had almost failed when they saw the light. They had no matches, but were trying to strike fire with their guns, when the light was visible from where they were. There was quite a mountain ridge between them and the fire. It was in a different direction from where they expected; it had barely shown a dim light in the mountain top.
Wiley said, "That's pa!" and started for the fire. This saved them.
On arriving at Salt river it became plain to see that we were not in a condition to go further, and, as everything seemed inviting to us to stop here, we took a vote on the question of continuing. All voted to locate on Salt river, except one man.
We made camp where Mr. Miller had directed me to the ditch site. Next morning we commenced work on the head of the ditch. Ross R. Rogers began surveying the ditch with a straight-edge and spirit-level.
We had been to work but a few hours, when a party came and claimed that we were on a ditch site already staked and owned. Mr. Miller had posted me on this.
The survey had been made and stakes set, but sufficient work had not been done to hold the right of way. So I told the gentleman in charge of the party that we would not interfere with his survey; that we had noticed his stakes and would not disturb them. He finally offered to sell us the right of way.
I told him we were not prepared to buy, but would try and be careful not to interfere with his rights. The party left and we heard no more from them.
We arranged affairs to the best advantage possible, according to the wisdom we had, and went to work on what was registered and is known as the Utah ditch.
On reporting to President Young, the following letter was received:
"Salt Lake City, U. T. "Elder D, W, Jones, Camp Utah, Arizona,
"Dear Brother:—On my return from Ogden, last evening, I found your note awaiting me. The brethren who have been called to go to Arizona reside in various parts of this territory. They will start as they get ready and come dropping in upon you from time to time, without any special instructions from the Presidency of the Church, only to commence their labors at as early a date as they reasonably can. For this reason we cannot say anything about making arrangements beforehand for their flour; but they will have to do as we have done before—get it as best they may after their arrival.
"We should be pleased to learn from you how far you consider it from your camp to the settlements on the Little Colorado river, and which road you deem the best thereto. We should also like to know what your intentions are with regard to settling the region for which you originally started. We do not deem it prudent for you to break up your present location, but possibly next fall you will find it consistent to continue your journey with a portion of those who are now with you, while others will come and occupy the places vacated by you.
"We do not, however, wish you to get the idea from the above remarks that we desire to hurry you away from where you now are, or to force a settlement in the district to which you refer, until it is safe to do so and free from the dangers of Indian difficulties; but we regard it as one of the spots where the Saints will, sooner or later, gather to build up Zion, and we feel the sooner the better.
"Last evening I returned from Cache valley, where I had been resting a few days. Tomorrow myself and party start for Juab and Sanpete counties to organize a Stake of Zion there, while Brothers Lorenzo Snow and Franklin D. Richards will go to Morgan and Summit counties and organize there.
"We have thus to divide or we should not get through with the organization of the Stakes in time to commence the quarterly conferences in those that were first organized.
"We have no special counsel to give you or your company at present, only to live so as to retain within you the Spirit of the Lord, that it may be to you a present helper in every time of need, and a guide that can be called upon on all occasions. Be prudent in all the measures you enter into; economical with your time and supplies; be just one towards another, and kind and friendly with all men; do your utmost by precept and example to win the hearts of the Lamanites, and ever use the influence you acquire over them for good, for their salvation and education in the arts of peace and industry. In this course the blessing of the Lord will be with you, and you shall be established in peace, and prosperity shall attend your efforts to build up God's kingdom. That this may be so is the prayer of
"Your brother in the Gospel,
"Brigham Young."
We commenced on the ditch March 7th, 1877. All hands worked with a will. Part of the company moved down on to lands located for settlements. Most of the able-bodied men formed a working camp near the head of the ditch, where a deep cut had to be made.
We hired considerable help when we could procure it for such pay as we could command, as scrub ponies, "Hayden scrip," etc. Among those employed were a number of Indians, Pimas, Maricopas, Papagoes, Yumas. Yaquis and one or two Apaches Mojaves. The most of them were good workers.
Some of these Indians expressed a desire to come and settle with us; this was the most interesting part of the mission to me and I naturally supposed that all the company felt the same spirit, but I soon found my mistake, for on making this desire of the Indians known to the company many objected, some saying that they did not want their families brought into association with these dirty Indians. So little interest was manifested by the company that I made the mistake of jumping at the conclusion that I would have to go ahead whether I was backed up or not; I learned afterwards that if I had been more patient and faithful that I would have had more help, but at the time I acted according to the best light I had and determined to stick to the Indians.
This spirit manifested to the company showing a preference to the natives, naturally created a prejudice against me. Soon dissatisfaction commenced to show. The result was that most of the company left and went onto the San Pedro in southern Arizona, led by P. C. Merrill. After this move, there being but four families left, and one of these soon leaving, our little colony was quite weak.
The three families remaining with me professed to sustain my management for a little season. Then they turned more bitter against me than those who went away; no doubt but they felt justified in their own feelings, and, as I am writing my own history and not theirs, I will allow them the same privilege.
It was not long until it became manifest that I would have to either give up the Indians or lose my standing with the white brethren. I chose the natives, and will now give as truthful a history of my labors among them as my memory will serve.
In about six weeks from the time we commenced we had sufficient water out to plant some garden stuff and a few acres of com. When this was done Brother Turley took a number of teams and went to freighting for Mr. Hayden to pay the debt we had now made—some fifteen hundred dollars. This debt could soon have been paid if all hands had stayed together, but as the most left, the debt finally fell upon me to finish paying up.
This tied me up on Salt river for some time.
As often as opportunity offered I talked to the Indians. As yet I had not found an interpreter that suited me; several whom I had met the year before had not come to our camp yet, their homes being some distance away. The interpreter I used, Geo. Roberts, was something of an adventurer, as the sequel will show.
I was at work one day in a field, planting, after we had been settled for some six weeks, when my interpreter came to me and said there were several of the leading men of the Salt river Pimas who wished me to come down to my camp, where they were, and baptize them.
I told him I did not think the Indians understood enough to be baptized; that I had not had time to teach them sufficiently. He said I had talked a great deal to him; that he understood and believed all I said, and fully explained all my words to thesecapitancillos(little captains), who also believed and wished baptism.
I did not feel satisfied. I have always been slow to baptize natives; my policy has been to teach them first, so that they would fully realize what they were doing. I have endeavored more to get them out of their degradation and savagery.
When I met these Indians I asked them (using the interpreter) what they desired. They said they wished to be baptized and be Mormons. I told the interpreter to say to them that I did not want them to be baptized until they fully understood what baptism was for. I continued talking, explaining what the requirements were, etc.
The interpreter insisted, after talking quite a while with the chiefs, that they fully understood me and were ready. I then told him to say to them: "Go back to your camp; talk with your head chief and your people, and explain these things. Take time to reconsider and do not be in a hurry to get baptized."
A few days after this my interpreter again came to me and said many hundred Indians had come to my camp (I was again at work away from home), all ready and wanting to be baptized.
I was now sorely puzzled, for there was nothing in reason to convince me that these ignorant natives were really subject to such sudden conversion. Still, I knew that our people looked forward to a time when a nation will be born in a day, but I did not believe that time had come; yet it looked a little that way, so I went down.
On arriving at camp there were Indians in every place and direction; there were between three and four hundred, all looking pleasant and smiling. The chiefs were grouped, sitting quietly and sedately.
I commenced to talk to and question them, repeating what I had formerly said and added more, and in every way endeavored to fasten upon their minds the responsibility of being baptized. I really desired to deter them, if possible, for I had no faith in the reality of the situation. But my interpreter, who talked at length to them, professing to explain all my words, insisted that they fully understood and wanted to be baptized—the whole tribe included.
Several Elders were present, and I asked, "What shall I do? I have no faith in this. There is something wrong."
All said I had done my duty; if they insisted, all we could do was to baptize them, as we had no right to refuse.
I told the Indians all right—we would go to the river. At this all hands started pell-mell, the young ones laughing and playing, the older ones more sedate.
As I started to the river I observed a strange Indian looking intently at me. He was dressed differently from the rest. I asked him if he understood Spanish.
He answered, "Yes, perfectly."
"Have you heard and understood the talk with the Pimas?"
"Yes, sir; and the Indians are deceived. Your interpreter is either dishonest or does not understand you; I hardly know which, but I think it is a little of both. He talks considerable Spanish, but he has not fully understood you. I fully understand and want to help you."
"Will you go with me now?—and I will again talk to them."
"Yes."
On the way to the river my new friend informed me that the main inducement offered for baptism by my interpreter was, that to all who would be baptized I would give a new shirt; and to the men of families who had no land I would give lands. So it was no wonder at the number of converts.
When we got to the river bank I called the principal men together and taught them for a long time, fully explaining the true situation and requirements. The old chief, Chiacum, said he thought I must have lots of shirts and had looked around wondering where all my land was. My interpreter looked rather "sheepish."
When all was explained the old chief said he did not fully understand all I had said, but one thing he understood and was willing to try—that baptism required one to be a better man. Said he, "I am willing to be baptized and listen to your talk, for I believe it is good. I will seek to be a better man and try to learn more about God. Now here are three of us who are willing to do this; if this will do you can baptize us, we do not want any shirts; we will then try to learn and teach your words to our people, and when they are ready we will tell you and you can baptize them.
I now felt satisfied and baptized the old chief and the ones he named, feeling a real joy for I knew they were honest. This deception of my first interpreter had its effect that reaches far into the future. Believing on the start that he would be useful to me, I had given him a piece of land near by camp, where he had been doing a little work.
I now felt so disappointed in him that I wished to get rid of him. He said if he got his pay for the land he would leave. This he received in full, and I thought I would hear no more of him. In this, too, I was disappointed.
Often during the spring and summer natives visited our camp enquiring about our people and principles. I heard that the "shirt and land" story had reached quite a distance.
One party of Maricopas, fourteen in number, headed by an old chief, Malia, came to see us. They were very poor and destitute, but seemed more intelligent than the average. I was very busy, being obliged to go away from camp. The old chief said they were willing to help me, and insisted that I would show them some work to do, saying they would remain and work until I had time to talk to them. This old fellow talked good Spanish.
I showed them a piece of land that we desired to plant in corn. They went to work and cleared the brush from it. I afterwards gave this same land to these Indians.
When Brother Merrills left, our ditch was not nearly finished. In fact it was simply commenced, and we who were left were almost destitute and heavily in debt.
Some of the same Indians we had employed offered to take hold and help us finish up the ditch if we would let them have some land lying along the river bottom. The land was sandy and broken with hills and hollows, and there was considerable brush on it. It was a kind of land the whites did not desire but the very kind the Indians preferred. I agreed to let them have this privilege.
The first who came were the same party under Malia (Maricopas), who worked clearing off land. I gave them the eastern portion of the land. Francisco Chico Ochoa, a Pima, came well recommended as a good, honest man. He agreed to keep me posted in regard to the character of those applying for lands. The Pimas were to have the western portion of the lands.
The agreement was that no Indians would be allowed to remain on these lands except those who would observe good order, live honest, sober, etc., and work for their own living, and in no way molest the settlers.
I talked with Mr. Hayden and some others about my plans. They said the Indians were generally well-disposed, and that years before the whites had invited quite a colony of Pimas to leave the Gila and come and settle on Salt river, as a kind of outpost or guard against the Apaches. This had been a success. "But," said Mr. Hayden, "as the country builds up and these Indians are not needed, you will doubtless see some of these same men who invited them here join in to drive them away. You, no doubt, will have trouble with your Indians in time."
I was deeply interested in these natives, and felt determined to do all I could for them; in fact, it was Indian or nothing if we finished our ditch in time to do anything the following season. So I divided off the land between the Pimas and Maricopas, leaving the chiefs to divide the lands among their people.
They soon went to work enlarging the ditch. These natives were of the poorer class, having been living in settlements where the water had been shut off from them. They had been living for years in poverty and degradation. Their association with white men had only degraded them the more, and they were dwindling away and numbering less and less every year; so when they had the privilege of taking hold with us they were truly grateful.
When they commenced to move, some thirty odd miles, my son Wiley took his team and hauled their stuff for them. The squaws appreciated this, as most everything would have been carried on their heads; many a time they would pack from seventy-five to a hundred pounds. Some may ask, "If these Indians were so destitute, what was there to move?" I will see if I can think what there was. I remember well there was an eight-mule load for the Maricopas.
Without giving the number and pounds, I will name some of the principal articles. There were earthen water jars and cooking utensils; baskets and more baskets; dogs—too poor to make it afoot; Mosquite beans; old rawhides, metats, primitive hand-mills; a few old shovels, hoes, axes, wooden plows, etc. These were about the average outfit of an Indian household. They were about destitute of provisions. I went and made arrangements with Mr. Hayden for their bread stuff.
The ditch was enlarged, during the fall and winter, so that there were several hundred acres of grain sowed by ourselves and Indians. I helped many of the Indians get their seed grain, and some of them borrowed from their more prosperous friends; they also got cattle to plow their fields from the Indians on the Gila.
As these people began to prosper, others came and wished to join in and continue to enlarge the ditch, and clear off and level down the broken lands. Sometimes the stock, belonging to the Indians living on their own lands on the opposite side of the river from our camp, would encroach on our fields. This was extremely annoying and many of the whites were sorely tried.
I was continually working to get a right understanding established.
The Indians claimed that no one had a right to occupy more country than they could fence or guard, and said that the people owning the fields were the ones to take care of them and watch the cattle.
Some of the settlers accepted the situation, and when the Indian stock would get onto their grain fields they would shoot them down. This rather got away with the Indians yet they would not get mad but would take the carcasses for food.
Owing to this trouble many of the white settlers became opposed to the Indians remaining longer on Salt river, so petitions were circulated and signed asking the government to remove them.
The agent visited me one day while I was working on the ditch, with some forty Indians helping. He accosted me in a very uncivil tone and manner and wanted to know what I was doing with his Indians. I said I was not aware that he owned these people. He said he was the U. S. agent from Sacaton; that he had heard that I was teaching these Indians Mormonism, and inducing them to leave the agency, and that he wanted the business stopped.
I told him it was none of his business what I was doing with the Indians; asked him if he knew what Mormonism was. He said he did not know anything about it.
"Then you had better wait until you do before commanding me to quit teaching it. I teach them to quit stealing, gambling, getting drunk and practicing other and worse vices; and to be cleanly and industrious; and advised them to earn their own living; and get ready to educate their young people; to quit killing witches; burning their dead, etc. How does that suit you?"
"O that is all right."
"Well, sir, that is a part of Mormonism."
He seemed a little "stumped," then said, "Well, if I hear of any trouble, I shall forbid you employing these Indians."
I here showed him a letter that I had received from him when we first came in, asking me to give employment to a party of Indians, saying that they were good men and willing to work, but had no means of support, and that anything I could do for them would be appreciated.
I called his attention to what I had done for this people, according to his request, and asked him if he would like a copy of the letter sent to Washington. I never heard any more complaint from the agent.
The Indians that I had taken in to help on the ditch had but little stock and had agreed to take care of it, which they generally did. But visitors would come to see them and would sometimes be careless.
But the greatest trouble we had was with some five hundred Pimas who were settled about five miles from us, that we had no particular control over, they having settled there before our arrival.
I, in common with others, was much annoyed by their cattle, but desiring peace I studied how to outgeneral these cattle. I had also studied very hard to get an insight into the Indian character and ways, and was on the watch for an opportunity.
The old chief whom I had baptized had some twenty head of work cattle belonging to his family and particular friends. They had come onto my fields several times. The old man always said it was his boy's fault, and seemed to regret it, sometimes paying a few sacks of wheat for damages. I told him that paying damages was a bad thing. It was loss to him and no gain to me, that I wanted the cattle kept off.
Finally an idea struck me. The cattle had damaged my crops a number of times. One day when I found them in my field I sent them to the chief with word that if they got on my field three times more that they would be mine, and that I would put my brand on them.
Soon the old man came over to see me, bringing a good interpreter. Said he:
"I do not understand what you say about branding my cattle."
Here I took a memorandum book from my pocket and commenced figuring. I explained to him that the cattle had been on my field and damaged me to an amount almost as much as the cattle were worth, and that three times more damaging would pay for the cattle when I would have a right to put my brand on them, having paid their full value.
I talked pleasantly and kindly, admitting that he was a good man and wanted to do right, but his boys were bad and careless. I said I would loan them the cattle for a while as I did not need them, but would let him know when I wanted them.
The old man was puzzled, he did not know what to say or do. At length, after sitting and studying a while, he said: "Suppose the cattle never get onto your land again; how will it be then?"
I then showed him my book and explained to him that some accounts were in pencil and some in pen and ink; that his was still in pencil and if left that way would wear out after a time, but sometimes it lasted two or three years, and that if he would keep his cattle away for a long time I would not write with ink and maybe the pencil marks would all wear out.
He seemed pleased at this, saying that the cattle should not get back any more, and the account would be sure to wear out before they came back.
I now gave the old man a piece of ground on our side near the crossing of the river. He said he would live there and watch the cattle himself and not let them cross. This was the land I had formerly given to my first interpreter who had deceived me so. This same fellow came afterwards and claimed the land. He was a Maricopa. This was on the end of the land I had given to the Pimas. I explained this to him. Although I considered there was nothing due to the man, I offered him land up among his own people. This he declined, but claimed the first piece.
I told him I had paid him for the land. He said I had not paid him for the land but for the work done on it; that the land was his. I finally told him to leave and bother me no more; that he was dishonest and I did not want to see him till he was a better man.
More white people were coming into the valley all the time to settle, and a deep prejudice against the Indians was soon developed. I was accused of being in collusion with them in running off the settlers' stock so as to get a reward for returning it.
This charge was presented to the agent at the Gila agency and from him it was sent to the military commander at Camp McDowell.
There had been many accusations against the Indians and myself before this, but nothing in a formal way. This time notice had to be taken, so Capt. Summerhays with a posse of soldiers came to my ranch. I had often been to the camp and had talked to the officers about my affairs with the Indians. There was, from the first, a disposition of honor manifested by the military toward my labors.
The posse arrived about sundown. The captain came in, opened some papers and said his orders were to arrest me for being in with the Indians in stealing stock, and asked if I could prove myself clear.
I told him I did not intend to try to prove my innocence, but would help him to prove my guilt if possible, for if guilty I wanted to find it out and quit it.
This rather pleased the captain who laughingly said: "Well you are a prisoner, but I will trust you not to run away."
Next morning we went out to see what evidence could be found. We first visited the Indians and heard their story. They said that the whites who were coming into the country were careless about their stock and it often strayed off a long ways. Some of the owners had offered to pay them for hunting it up. When they brought the stock some paid them, while others who were bad men would abuse them and tell them they had driven the stock away on purpose to receive a reward for finding it. They said Captain Jones always told them to be honest with everybody and had forbidden any Indians to come to his place unless they would do right.
The Indians were very earnest in their talk, saying they had been friends to the people that had come in, and that it was bad to be accused so unjustly, and said they would not hunt any more stock.
The captain told them that would be wrong as the people were poor and did not know the range.
One Indian, Valensuela, spoke up and said: "Well, I will teach these people better. I will go and get their stock and give it to them, and I won't take a cent if they offer it to me."
The spirit and manner of the Indians convinced the captain that they had been wrongfully accused. From the Indian camp we went to where the greater portion of my accusers were at work on a ditch.
The captain called the attention of the crowd and made known his business by saying, "Mr. Jones has been accused of causing the Indians to run off your stock. Do any of you know anything about the charge?"
No one answered against me. Some said they did not think I had done anything of the kind. We were now some three miles from my ranch. The captain drove back to the road and offered to take me home, saying he had got through.
I asked him what he was going to do with his prisoner. He offered to give me a letter to publish clearing me from all the charges. I told him I had become so used to such things that I cared but little about them. He replied that it was a good thing for a man in my situation not to be too "thin skinned."
Through this affair I got on record at the Post as reliable, and ever afterwards my word was taken in preference to any reports against me.
I was kept tolerably busy watching and defending the rights of the Indians; also in trying to correct evils existing among the natives. One thing that taxed all my ability was to break up witchcraft, their main superstition.
Both Maricopas and Pimas fully believed that all sickness and calamities of any kind were caused by witches. Their witch doctors claim the power to divine who the witches are. When this is done all hands turn out with clubs and stones and kill the poor wretch pointed out. Whenever there is much sickness among them some one has to die as a witch. This I had endeavored to check by teaching them better, but I soon learned that my teaching had not reached the desire, as witches were killed among those settling with us of the Maricopas.
I went to their camp and told old Malia, who was quite intelligent in many respects, that if such an act occurred again that I would deliver them to the law to be dealt with as murderers. At the same time explaining to his people the general laws of health, showing them that the violation of natural laws produced sickness.
Some time after this a Maricopa woman came and told my wife that the Maricopas had decided to kill me; that the witches were killing their children and that I would not allow them to kill the witches. So the only way to protect the lives of their children would be to kill me, as I was a friend of the witches.
When I came home my wife told me of this threat. She seemed a little concerned for my welfare, but her faith was always with mine; so we decided that it would be best for me to go at once and put a stop to this feeling.
I got on my horse and went alone some three miles to their camp. Most of the Indians were gathered together. As I approached none spoke; all were sullen. This confirmed to me the truth of the squaw's report, as the Indians generally met me in a friendly manner.
I went directly to the subject; told them what I had heard, saying to them that I had no fears of their killing me and that there was no use for them to entertain any such feeling towards me, for I was their friend and teaching them the truth, and that God would protect me. I again talked to them a long time and finally seemed to gain some influence.
The Pimas had also been guilty of the same practice. When I heard of this I took a good interpreter and went to their camp, which was across the river among the old settlers not of our colonizers.
I had to labor long and hard before getting any satisfactory results. The old chief acknowledged that they had killed one witch and had almost killed another, who had recovered, and that they were then doctoring him to cure him, so that all hands could turn out and "kill him better."
I asked how they knew these men were witches. The answer was that the "doctor" had pointed them out.
I asked to see this "doctor" This was declined. I insisted, telling the chief that I would neither befriend him nor his people, nor talk to them about anything more until this "doctor" was shown me.
This the old fellow did not like; for I had done them much good already, and was continually watching and protecting their interests. They all knew this and appreciated the same.
Numbers of the old men gathered around, chatting together. I continued to repeat my request to see the "doctor." Finally, he was brought out. I managed, after talking a long time, to really convince these Indians that it was wrong to believe in witches or, at least, to kill them. They agreed to quit the practice and I had reason to believe that they were partially converted, at least, for the poor fellow, who had been almost killed, came to my ranch a few weeks after this. He was terribly banged up; but, as soon as he could possibly travel, he came to let me know that I had saved him; that his people had agreed not to kill him, and that he would always call himself my boy, as I had saved his life.
Many persons were jealous of my influence with the natives and wondered how I managed to obtain so much power over them. I simply acted as a friend; and the Indians knew this.
One circumstance I will relate that will explain a little of this power. There was one of our white settlers who had lost his only cow. She was running on the river bottom, near the Indian camp. At the time this occurred the commander at McDowell was Captain Norval, a rather impetuous officer.
A letter was sent to this officer, stating that the Indians had stolen and killed the only cow that a poor man had and calling on him to come and redress the wrong. Accordingly, Captain Norval soon appeared, at the head of some dragoons, went to Mesa City and wrote an order, to be delivered to the Indians through me, that the cow had to be produced or paid for within six hours, or he would kill the last Indian to be found.
The Indians accused lived across the river, which was now very high. I immediately sent a courier for the old chief to come to my ranch, also informing him of the charge.
The old man came as soon as possible, having to swim the river. He was quite old and feeble, but managed to get over with the help of some younger men.
Captain Norval soon made his appearance and, with something of a flourish, reiterated his threat. The old chief looked at him in a dazed manner, then asked if the captain wanted them to pay for the cow when they knew nothing about her.
"No; but you have stolen the cow and killed and eaten her, and you have got to pay for her or I will turn my soldiers loose on you."
"Who says we killed this man's cow?"
"This letter says so."
"That letter lies; we know nothing about the cow. It would be better for us if we had killed her, for we could then confess and pay for her; but how can we confess and pay for what we know nothing about?"
The captain then asked what had become of the cow. The old chief said he did not know, positively, but thought perhaps he could tell. He said the day the cow was lost there had been a sudden rise in the river; the water coming down so suddenly that the cow, being on an island, was probably washed way and drowned. The old man was so simple and straightforward in all his talk that Captain Norval became convinced that he was truthful, and that the charge was more malicious than reasonable.
There was scarcely a week passed but what there were miserable, petty charges brought against the Indians, often on the slightest grounds, that had to be met.
Soon after the events just narrated occurred, Major Chaffee took command at Camp McDowell. He soon "took in" the situation and took an interest in the welfare and rights of the Indians. To him, more than any one else, is owing the preservation of the Indian's rights and the final allowing of the lands to these people. I will give one more especial account and then go on. I could write a book on the doings of Salt river labors, but have not room in this for more than a few items.
Once the spirit ran so high against the Indians, that it was determined to drive them away unless they came to such terms as the whites should dictate. A mass meeting was called to meet at Tempe, for both whites and natives. At the time it was hardly safe for me to appear, as my life had been threatened. I had even been told to my face by a Captain Sharp, that he was ready to help put the rope around my neck any day.
However, I went to the meeting. Many demands were made of the Indians, all of which they acceded to that was possible for them to do. The whites were about satisfied with the disposition of the Indians, when one man got up and said he had a saddle stolen from him some two years previous, and that he would not consent for the Indians to remain longer where they were, unless they paid for the saddle. At this, several others commenced telling what they had lost and demanded the same.
I had kept perfectly silent during the whole parley. Now when this was explained to the Indians, they seemed at a loss what to say. Finally the chief said they were not able to pay for these things; that it was asking more than they could do. The spirit of the whites was really devilish; they seemed determined to drive the Indians to the wall, not one had spoken a word in their behalf.
I now felt impelled to speak. When I asked to be heard there were many hard looks given me. The chairman gave consent. As soon as I commenced some one interrupted me. I sat down. The chairman called for order. I then said, "If you gentlemen will hear me through without interruption, allowing me free speech, I will talk. When I get through my life is in your hands, do with me as you please, but I will not talk unless you agree to let me say just what I please." They took a vote to hear me through.
My defense of the Indians was to the point. I told the whites that they demanded of the natives, what none of them could do; that if they were required to make all their wrongs right that they had committed for the last two years, it would bankrupt them morally and financially. There were other thieves in the country beside Indian thieves, that may have stolen the articles. I referred to the virtue and honesty of the Pimas when the whites first came among them, showing that all their vile degradation and dishonesty was copied from the white man. Also, that many now present were corrupt and immoral, much more so than the average Indian.
Congressman Stephens was present. I never heard what he thought of my speech, but I conquered the most present, and they agreed to let the Indians have another trial. All of these men finally became my friends.
This meeting, just described, was with the Indians, the old settlers on the north side of the river. Those settling on the Utah ditch were not called in question at this time by the persons seeking to drive the others away.
To make it more easy for the reader to understand, I will speak of the Indians as north side and south side. The north side being those who were settled there by invitation of the whites before our colony settled on Salt river. All the control or influence I had over them was simply as their friend. The south side settlers were those who had colonized on lands watered by the Utah ditch. They were commonly known as "Jones' Indians."
The enemies that the latter had to meet, were many of the settlers, their immediate neighbors. Many and various attempts were made to have them driven back to the agency. Parties who bought shares in the Utah ditch as well as some of the original owners, disputed the right of the Indians to water, although they had done a large portion of the original work, and were always the most ready workers in making repairs.
These efforts to rob the Indians of their just rights, had a tendency to discourage the poor people from making improvements that they otherwise would have done. The question of the Indians' rights to water, finally became so hardly contested, that I applied to Major Chaffee, to cause an investigation to be made and protect the Indians in their rights. I had kept sufficient account of their work to show conclusively that they were entitled to water.
A commissioner was sent to make some preliminary enquiries. Most of the share holders claimed that the Indians had no legal right in the ditch, which was a fact, technically speaking, as no transfers had been made to them, simply verbally promised that by doing their share of work from year to year, that they could have water.
Every season some one would try to break this arrangement, and I determined to put a stop to it. A meeting of the share holders was called, to take testimony to send to this commissioner for the decision to be based upon. At this meeting I was threatened with the penitentiary if I established a claim for the Indians. The party who made the threat, said he thought he had bought unencumbered shares in the ditch from me; others claimed the same. Now the facts were, that each and every one who bought shares in the Utah ditch or lands from me, agreed to honor and assist in every way to help carry out the work of helping the Indians. Some betrayed their trust in a most dishonorable and unreasonable way.
My answer was that the Indians should be protected, prison or no prison. It was finally agreed by all the shareholders that, if I would cease to press the matter farther and sign the paper with the rest, reporting that the Indians had no legal right, all hands would agree to set apart a certain portion of water, measured through a head-gate, and sign an agreement, allowing the Indians perpetual use of that share on certain conditions.
After these conditions were agreed upon and a committee appointed, that I had confidence in, to see to the dividing of the water, I signed the report with the rest.
This I thought best to do at the timer reserving the right, however, that if the whites ever broke faith with the Indians I would seek to protect them at all hazards.
This contract has been measurably kept with more or less grumbling from some of the shareholders. The lands the Indians occupied I had secured to them the best I could by having my sons claim some of it in their names. One quarter-section was secured by purchase from a Mexican, who settled on a forty, allowing the Indians the balance. I bought the Mexican out and sold the forty to a supposed friend, with the understanding that he was to use the forty and let the Indians have the balance, as formerly agreed upon.
This agreement was broken. The party told the Indians that I had sold the whole quarter-section to him and agreed to drive them off. The poor Indians believed him and gave up the land, when the good friend (?) sold the whole to a third party, who knew nothing of the facts. The Indians felt very badly towards me about this. I knew nothing of the transaction until too late to remedy the wrong. This same man gave testimony against me afterwards, stating that I had sold the whole quarter-section, and I had to pay the Indians for dispossessing them.
It now became the popular idea to try to jump the Indians lands. The Indians on the north side were threatened with land jumpers from Phoenix and Tempe.
One party moved on their lands taking tools, surveying outfit, provisions, etc., and went to work just as though no Indians were around. There were quite a number of them.
They had sent their teams back home. The Indians gathered around them, and in a good-natured manner loaded all their stuff into their wagons, then by main force of numbers picked up the whites, loaded them on top of the loading, then seized the wagons by hand and hauled the whole outfit off from their lands laughing and joking all the time. The whites dared not make any resistance. This raised a big excitement, and armed companies commenced to gather both at Tempe and Phoenix.
It looked now as though blood would be shed. I went to McDowell and reported to Major Chaffee, he said he would be ready at five minutes' notice to come to the protection of the Indians; for me to go back and keep watch of the moves and let him know the minute any violence was offered. This whole business was broken up by the cunning of an Indian who lived at Tempe.
The Tempe company was headed by a captain who said the Indians had broken into his house and robbed him. He had raised a great excitement and quite a company, and was getting ready to join the company from Phoenix to make war on the Indians who had ran them off from their lands.
This Tempe Indian was standing looking at Captain J——'s company, when someone asked him if the Indians had really broken into Captain J——'s house.
Juan said: "Yes."
"What made them do it?"
Juan said "the captain owed an Indian for his squaw and would not pay him, and the Indian had got into the captain's house and stole his breeches to pay himself."
At this the company turned on their captain, gave him a good cursing, broke ranks and went about their business.
This soon reached the Phoenix company, who became disgusted and broke, whether Juan told the truth or not it answered the purpose, and had a lasting effect, for most every one believed him.