LEAVE WASHAKIE'S CAMP FOR THE OTHER PORTION OF THE SHOSHONE TRIBE—INDIAN GUIDE LEAVES US—FOLLOWING A TRAIL—SIGHT THE OTHER CAMP—WAR SONGS AND DANCES—INDIANS PREPARING FOR WAR—CHIEF GIVES UP HIS LODGE TO US, WARNING US OF MEN IN HIS CAMP HE CANNOT CONTROL—INDIAN BRAVES IN WAR PAINT—SURROUNDED BY FIFTEEN HUNDRED OR TWO THOUSAND INDIANS—LEARN THAT L. B. RYAN, A WHITE DESPERADO CHIEF, IS IN CAMP, AND HAS SWORN VENGEANCE ON MORMONS—ESCAPE SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE, BUT WE TRUST IN GOD—RETIRE FOR THE NIGHT—RYAN AND SEVEN WARRIORS AT OUR LODGE—RYAN ENTERS AND DEMANDS TO KNOW WHERE WE ARE FROM, AND OUR BUSINESS—HE IS TOLD, THREATENS US, AND SUMMONS HIS INDIAN BRAVES INSIDE OUR LODGE—THOUGH THE ENEMY ARE TWO TO ONE, WE ARE READY FOR THEM—PREPARE FOR A FIGHT TO THE DEATH—RYAN AND HIS MEN LEAVE THE LODGE—WAR DANCE OUTSIDE—WE CONCLUDE TO SELL OUR LIVES AS DEARLY AS POSSIBLE—WAR PARTY APPROACH THE LODGE AND SLIT IT IN A NUMBER OF PLACES, THEN SUDDENLY DEPART—OUR LIVES BEING SPARED, WE REMAIN IN CAMP TILL NEXT DAY—THE CHIEF BEFRIENDS US, WARNING US NOT TO RETURN THE WAY WE CAME—DISPUTE AS TO THE ROUTE OF TRAVEL, AND HOW IT IS SETTLED—SATISFIED THAT RYAN INTENDED TO AMBUSH US—RAINSTORM OBLITERATES OUR TRACKS—CAMP IN THE RAIN—ON THE ALERT FOR AN ENEMY—SHOOT A BUFFALO—WARD AND DAVIS GIVE CHASE, WHILE BULLOCK AND I CONTINUE ON OUR ROUTE—CAMP AT A WASH—BULLOCK TAKEN VERY ILL—A TERRIBLE NIGHT—WARD AND DAVIS NOT RETURNING BY MORNING, WE MOVE ON—FEAR THAT BULLOCK WILL DIE—DISCOVER OUR COMRADES IN THE CANYON—BEING HUNGRY, WE OVEREAT—ANOTHER NIGHT OF SICKNESS—EMERGE FROM THE CANYON—PRESS FORWARD TO GREEN RIVER—WELCOMED BY FRIENDS—THREE OF OUR PARTY GO ONTO FORT SUPPLY, AND I REMAIN TO MEET CHIEF WASHAKIE.
THE morning after the council, Chief Washakie asked us where we were going to from his camp. We said we wished to go to White Man's Child's camp of Shoshones. Said he, "Maybe that is good, maybe not. I don't know. I hear there are bad men over there. I don't know." As there was no trail leading to that camp, we asked him to send a guide with us. He replied, "Maybe one go." Our horses having been brought up, we saddled them, and after a good friendly shake of the hand of the chief and of some of his council, we started to the southeast, with a young brave on the lead. When we had traveled about twenty miles, our guide disappeared over a ridge, but as we had come to a trail it did not matter to us so long as we could see pony tracks to follow. Still a feeling of mistrust lurked within us, as it had done all day. We discussed the matter, but could see no other way open than to press forward.
Soon we ascended a hill, from the top of which we could hear a drum, then many voices in a war song. As we rounded a little point of the hill we saw numerous lodges, and what appeared to be thousands of Indians. A large proportion of the latter were dancing and singing songs. About this time we felt a heavy feeling, and were certain that the spirit of murder was in the Indian camp. Everybody we met until we came to the chief's lodge looked as if they were going to war, judging by the expression of their eyes.
The chief came slowly out, coolly shook hands with us, ordered our stock taken care of, and a dish of boiled meat set before us. Then his family left the lodge, taking their effects, leaving only three robes for us. The sun was just setting, and the chief said we could occupy his lodge that night, as he was going away, being afraid to stop there, as there were men in camp that he could not control. Then he walked off and out of sight.
At this time three braves came by in their war paint, stepping along very lightly, and stripped and armed as if ready for a fight. They took a sharp glance at us, then passed on up the creek, to where the singing and dancing were going on. Then war whoops rent the air, and we were alone around the campfire.
There we were, surrounded by three hundred Indian lodges, and between fifteen hundred and two thousand Indians, principally Shoshones, though there were Cheyennes and Arapahoes mixed with them, for trading purposes, we supposed. It was dark, our horses had been taken away, we knew not where, and we were between four and five hundred miles from any source of protection, so far as we knew. The chief had confessed his inability to control some men in his camp, and had acknowledged that he was afraid to stop in his own lodge, he and his family seeking safer quarters. We were also without food, and the shadow of death seemed to hover over and close around us, while the war song and dance were heard plainly. We had also learned that L. B. Ryan, successor to Samuel Callwell as chief of the organized band of desperadoes, was at that time beating up and organizing a war party to carry on his nefarious work of robbery, and that he had sworn vengeance on the first Mormons that he met. We believed that he was the uncontrollable power that the chief had referred to.
Under these circumstances, it was a grave question as to what we could do for the best. Escape by flight was impossible, and as for attempting to fight three hundred to one, that was folly. Then what should we do? Put our trust in God, and go to bed, and if we were killed we wouldn't have to fall. This was our conclusion, so we attended prayers, and retired about 8 o'clock.
Soon the drum and some kind of whistle were heard drawing closer to us. In a few minutes our outdoor fire was surrounded by L. B. Ryan and seven young warriors, all well armed with Colt's revolvers. The Indians had bows and arrows in hand, ready for action. Their paleface companion undoubtedly was the leader.
After a brief pause, Ryan came into the lodge and squatted down just opposite to where Bullock and I lay. He picked up a stick of wood, and with a cutlass chipped off pieces and stirred up the coals, starting a bright light. Then he said. "Gentlemen, where do you hail from, and what is your business here?"
Mr. Bullock being spokesman, informed him that we were from Utah, and our business in part was to get acquainted with the Indians, to ascertain the openings for trade, and to look out the resources of the country.
Ryan continued, "Gentlemen, if you have got any papers for me, bring them out. I have been robbed by the Mormons of my bottom dollar, and by the eternal gods I am going to have revenge."
He then smote the billet of wood a heavy blow, at which signal the seven braves filed into the lodge, and squatted in order, with bows tightly corded, and arrows in hand. Ward, Davis, and I, were fully prepared to meet the attack as best we could. Bullock having the talking to do, was not so well prepared, until I rubbed his ribs with my bowie knife handle, when he got ready as quickly as possible. There were eight against four, all inside of one Indian lodge, watching for the signal from Ryan, and we would have acted promptly on his signal, or that of one of his braves, and without doubt would have got our share of the game, in exchanging lead for arrows. It is possible that Ryan took the same view, for he suddenly rose up and walked out, the warriors following him. They closed the lodge door behind them, thus giving us the opportunity to consult, while they held their council and danced around the fire and sang.
We hastily concluded that if they entered again it would be to massacre our party, and that if they began to come in we would fire on them the moment they opened the deerskin door. I, being in the most convenient position, was to give the first shot, presuming that Ryan would be in the lead, and we would be sure to dispose of him in that way. Meanwhile, all the rest would fire into the war party, whose shadows could be seen through the lodge, as they were between it and a big outdoor fire. The next move on our part was for Davis, who lay most convenient to the back part of the lodge, to make with his knife as large an opening as possible in the lodge, that we might escape through it into the creek that passed near by, the banks of which were only six or eight feet high. Our decision was that the moment we left the lodge every man was to try and if possible make his escape, no matter what the conditions might be, so that if either one of us could get away, and tell where he last saw the rest, it might be some satisfaction to our friends and relatives. Then each man took the most easy position to act his part, made ready his firelock, and held it with finger on the trigger.
Just then the party outside came around in their dance circle, straight for the lodge door, Ryan in the lead. They sang and danced right up to the door, but did not lift it. Next they circled around the lodge, and with their scalping knives, or some other sharp instruments, slit the lodge in a number of places. Then, as they came around to the front, they gave a war whoop, and passed up the creek in the direction whence they came. Thus we still lived, and were spared the awful necessity of shedding man's blood, even in self-defense, thanks be to God for His protection and mercies. Still the clouds hung so low, and so thickly around, that we could not feel safe in an attempt to leave camp.
Next morning the chief sent us some boiled buffalo beef, and called and talked a few moments. He impressed us with the fact that the danger was not yet over, and that we were safer in his lodge and camp than we would be out of it, so we contented ourselves as best we could by loitering around, while the drum and the whistling reeds of the war party, and the wild shouts, continued all day. At last night came, and we turned in, as we had done the evening before, with all our clothes, arms and boots on.
A WAR PARTY OF SHOSHONES DANCING AROUND THEIR PRISONERS WHILE IN THE CHIEF'S LODGE
A WAR PARTY OF SHOSHONES DANCING AROUND THEIR PRISONERS WHILE IN THE CHIEF'S LODGE
Nothing occurred that night to mar our peace, but the ever threatening din of the drum and the savage yell of the red man. Again the morning light broke over us, and our scalps were still in place, but the very elements seemed to say, "Stay in camp." The Spirit whispered to every one of us the same thing. We were a unit, and therefore lingered in the place, closely watching every move.
Finally the chief came, and our horses were brought. This was at about 1 o'clock p.m. Then, as plainly as ever we saw the clouds in the firmament break and scatter, we felt the clouds of death begin to part. We waited no longer; our horses were saddled, packs were put in place, and the chief gave us a slight indication, letting us understand that it was a good time to move. At that moment Ryan and his allies came up, apparently changed in their behavior. Ryan inquired of us by what route we intended to return. Mr. Bullock said we expected to go to Washakie's camp, and thence back by the same route we had come on. Immediately the chief stepped away into the brush, we mounted, and saying good-bye, started down the creek.
A few moments later, as we rounded a bend, the chief popped out of the brush just in front of and so as to meet us. Without seeming to notice us in the least, he said, "Do not go the way you said you would, for there are men in my camp that I cannot control." Brother Bullock did not catch the idea, but the other three of us did. We understood his action as well as his words. Soon we came to where we had got to decide which course we would take. Brother Bullock was determined to keep his word, and go by the route that he had told Ryan he would do, but the three others were a unit in insisting on taking another way. We told him we understood perfectly the chief, that if we went by that route we would be ambushed, and every soul of us would be killed. Still Brother Bullock insisted on keeping his word with the Indians; and more, he had promised Washakie that he would return by his camp. Then Ward and Davis came straight out and said they knew that meant death, and they would not follow on that trail; so they started off another way.
At this juncture I said: "Brother Bullock, I never deserted my file-leader in my life, and I will not do it now. I will follow you to the death, for I am certain that path leads there, and if you persist in going that way I will follow, and will claim my blood at your hands, for the others, the three of us, see alike." Then Ward and Davis turned and said that on the same conditions as those I had named they would go with Brother Bullock; but the latter said the price was too great, and he would go with us, but he very much regretted breaking his word with the red man.
Every minute was precious at that time. We were well satisfied that Ryan would not shrink to do from ambush what he had hesitated to do in the chief's lodge, and that if he could strike our trail he would do it to the death; so we made the best speed consistent with the conditions surrounding us.
As we were passing up the long slope of the mountain, and while yet almost in sight of the camp, a small, dense, black cloud arose in the south. It passed in our rear and over the Indian camp, and torrents of rain seemed to fall there, while we were caught only in the storm's edge. Thus our tracks were completely obliterated. Soon we came into a trail leading along our way, and followed it to quite a bold running creek. As the rain had ceased where we were, to further elude our enemies we followed up in the bed of the creek until we came to a rocky ridge which led us up among the cliffs, where it would be difficult for any one to follow us and make much headway. While there among the rocks, Ward and Davis saw an old mountain sheep, which they pursued and captured, but he fell in a place so difficult of access, and night coming on, that it was impossible to get but a small portion of him. Bullock and I kept on our course, and were overtaken by our companions just at dark.
We pushed on as quickly as possible, for the rain was coming on in torrents. At last the night became so densely dark that we could only keep together by the noise of our camp equipage, and by talking. It was impossible to see where we were going, so we camped in a sag. It rained so hard that it was with much work that we started a fire, and then it was quite as difficult to keep it going till we could frizzle a morsel of the old ram; so each bolted his rations half raw, and having hobbled our animals securely, we rolled ourselves in half-wet blankets and laid down or the ground, which already had been soaked to the consistency of mud, and we wallowed there until next morning. Then two of us brought up and saddled horses, while the other two frizzled a little more of the ram, which was bolted, as before, for it was too tough to chew in a way anything like satisfactory. We then wrung our blankets, for they were full of water, as in the place where we had laid down the water was half shoetop deep.
By sunrise we were mounted, feeling satisfied that our track of the day before had been covered up, and thirty miles of our flight was behind us. The country was high and barren, but we avoided conspicuous points, and traveled the most secluded way, ever on the alert to catch the first sight of an enemy, or of any kind of game, for our portion of flesh of the ram of the Rockies had disappeared.
In the after part of the day the sun shone. This was while we were crossing the head of an open flat, in a dry country, with a dry gully coursing down through it. This gully was fringed with an abundant growth of sagebrush, and as we looked down the flat we saw some animals coming out from a bend in the gully. We ascertained to our delight that there were seven buffaloes. Our decision was to spare no efforts in an endeavor to secure one of the animals, for this was a rare chance, as the Indians had hunted every bit of game that it was possible for them to do in that part of the country.
To accomplish our most desirable object at this particular time, Ward, Davis and I secured our horses, leaving Bullock to guard them and the pack mules. The three of us made our way down the gulch, and as the wind came to us from the buffaloes, there was no danger of them scenting us. Thus we secured an excellent position, and waiting a few minutes for them to feed to within about sixty yards of us, we decided on the one that had the sleekest coat, thinking he would be the best beef; for all were very poor old bulls, and we did not wish to injure more than we needed to keep us from starvation. We all took deliberate aim, and three rifles rang out as one. The only result visible to us was that the game wheeled, and ran directly on the back track, leaving us without even a hope of buffalo meat until we followed on their trail seventy or eighty rods. There we found where one animal had cast his cud, and later we saw some blood splattered about. All felt sure we had hit the buffalo, for each knew how his rifle shot, and said he never drew a nicer bead on an animal in his life. Then Ward and Davis got their horses and gave chase, as the game had run almost parallel with our route toward the notch in the mountains for which we were aiming.
Bullock and I kept on the course our party had marked out to travel, but before we reached the mountain pass we were heading for, night and rain came on, and we had to camp in an open greasewood plain. Coming to a very deep wash that had good feed in it, we concluded to hobble our animals in the wash. It was difficult to get our stock in, as the banks were very steep, but at last we succeeded in getting them down, and felt that they were tolerably safe for the night, with some watching. We gathered a little greasewood, for there was no other fuel, and tried to get a tire started in the rain and darkness.
During this time, Bullock began to have cramps, in the stomach and bowels, and then in his limbs, and soon he was taken with a heavy chill. It seemed that he would die, in spite of all that I could do for him. I rubbed him, prayed for him, and put him in a pack of wet blankets, for we had no other, and were without any earthly comfort for such an emergency. At last I caught some rain in the frying-pan, then got hold of our cracker sack, in which was about two tablespoonfuls of crumbs and dust that had rubbed off the crackers. I heated the water, put the crumbs in, and brought the mixture to a boil, stirring it so that it appeared something like gruel, and gave it to the sick man, who became easier. Then I went out, feeling my way, to see what had become of our stock, and got so far off in the darkness that I had great difficulty in finding my way back to my sick companion, but after much anxiety and bother I found him suffering intensely. I set to work rubbing him and encouraging him the best I could. I spent the entire night in attending to him and watching the stock.
Morning came, and still the hunters were unheard of. At one time I almost despaired of the sick man's life, and thought, if he died, what could I do with him, so far away from help. I could not take him home, neither could I put him out of reach of wild beasts, for I had no spade, pickaxe or shovel; nor was there timber in sight to cremate him. I had not a mouthful of food, and what had become of our partners, Ward and Davis, I could not tell. Then came the reaction of the spirit, and the thought that I must do the best that I could. It would not do to despair. I must pray for the patient, pack up, and get out of that place.
The patient seemed to rally with the dawn of day, and by sunrise we were on our way, and entered the canyon we had been heading for. We saw no signs of our friends until we reached their camp in the canyon, for it had rained so heavily as to obliterate the horse tracks. As they had gone on, we were not quite sure that it was their camp and tracks, and the canyon afforded excellent opportunity for ambush. But we were there and must go through. The sick man held up with wonderful fortitude, though suffering greatly. About 2 p.m. we sighted our comrades, the buffalo hunters. They mistook us for enemies and fled, until they found a convenient place to hide themselves and horses, and where they watched until they saw the gleaming of the sunlight upon our rifle barrels. Then they recognized us, and as we came up we had a warm greeting.
Being together once more we hid our animals among the cedars, and selected our camp with care, as it was night. Our hunters had been successful, after a chase of ten miles, in getting the buffalo; they had a hard and hazardous fight with the wounded animal, and it took them till after dark before they could get what buffalo meat they could carry on their horses. They also had a very severe night of it; but the lost were found, and with plenty of buffalo meat in camp we were thankful.
We broiled and ate, boiled and ate and ate raw liver, and marrow out of the bones; for be known that men in the condition we were, with severe hunger, do not always realize how much they have eaten until they eat too much. So it was with us. When we were through with the meal, we prepared to "jerk" the remainder of the beef, but before that was done my three companions were attacked with vomiting and purging; then followed chills and cramps, and for about four or five hours it seemed they might all die. I could not say which would go first, and the previous night's experience was reiterated. I confess that I had been guilty of as much folly and unreason as they, but being more robust than the others, I could endure more than they; but I had the very same kind of an attack as they did, before the journey was over.
When morning came, a sicker and a harder looking lot of men seldom is seen in the mountains. Yet we must travel, so passed through that canyon out onto an open plain, leaving the creek to the south of us. In the afternoon we came to a smooth clay grade, on which were fresh horse and moccasin tracks, and four large capital letters, in English; I think they were N, W, H and E. We concluded they had been marked out with a sharp stick, but not in a manner intelligible to us, so we were suspicious and cautiously pushed on to a place of shelter and rest.
It was on the 1st day of June that we reached the Middle Ferry on Green River, Green River County, Utah. There we met with W. I. Appleby, probate judge, Hosea Stout, prosecuting attorney, William Hickman, sheriff, Captain Hawley, the ferryman, and his family and some others. They did not have to be told what we most needed, but supplied with liberal hand our necessities, for all were aware that the object of our mission had been to protect just such as they, and the innocent immigrants, and their property, from not only the raids of the red men, but also from the more wicked and baser white brigands.
We rested at Green River until the 4th of June, when my fellow missionaries left for Fort Supply. I remained as interpreter, and to fill our appointment with Chief Washakie, who was to be at the ferry by July 15.
ENGAGED AS INTERPRETER—CLASS OF PEOPLE AT GREEN RIVER—APPOINTED DEPUTY SHERIFF—DROVER THREATENS TO KILL BOATMEN—ARREST ORDERED—RIDE INTO THE OUTLAWS' CAMP—BLUFFING THE CAPTAIN—A PERILOUS SITUATION—PARLEY WITH DROVERS—COMPROMISE EFFECTED—DEALING WITH LAW-BREAKERS—"BILL" HICKMAN AS SHERIFF—SWIMMING CATTLE OVER GREEN RIVER—A DROVER'S FAILURE—WRITER EMPLOYED TO GET CATTLE OVER—HOW IT IS DONE—SECRET OF SUCCESS—ARRIVAL OF WASHAKIE—THE FERRYMAN OFFENDS HIM—THE ANGRY INDIAN SWEARS VENGEANCE ON THE WHITE MAN—HIS PARTING THREAT—IN PERIL OF AN INDIAN MASSACRE.
AS I had become a fairly good interpreter, the ferry company proposed to pay my board at Green River while I stayed, as there was no one else there who could converse with the Indians. The country was new and wild, and while there were some very good people, the road was lined with California immigrants and drovers, many of them of a very rough class, to say the best of them. They would camp a day or two on the river, and drink, gamble and fight; then the traders and rough mountain men, half-caste Indians, French and Spaniards, were numerous; there were also blacksmith and repair shops, whisky saloons, gambling tables, and sometimes there would be a perfect jam of wagons and cattle, and two or three hundred men. There were quarrels and fights, and often men would be shot or stabbed. As the court had been organized only about two months, it was almost impossible for the sheriff or any other officer to serve a writ or order of court, unless he had a posse to back him. Sometimes the ferryman at the Upper Ferry would be run off his post, and a company of mountain men would run the ferry and take the money, and it would require every man that was on the side of law and order to back the officer. In this situation I, though a missionary, was summoned to take charge of a posse of men to assist the sheriff in making arrests.
One time there came a man with four thousand head of cattle. He crossed the river, passed down about four miles and camped under a steep sand bluff. He had missed a calf, and sent a man back for it. A small party of Indians, passing along that way, had picked up the animal and carried it off, supposing that the drovers had abandoned it. The man who had been sent for the calf, not finding it, rode up to the ferry and demanded the animal of the boatmen. These told him they did not have his calf, whereupon he swore at them, called them liars and thieves, and threatened to kill them, at the same time leveling his double-barreled shotgun at them.
Judge Appleby happened to be standing within a few feet of the boatmen, and heard the whole conversation. He ordered the sheriff to take the man, dead or alive. The sheriff summoned me to his aid, and we started at once for the culprit. When we got to within four rods of him he called out, "Do you want anything of me, gentlemen?" The sheriff said, "Yes; I am the sheriff, and you are my prisoner." The man being on horseback, defied the sheriff and fled. We fired two shots in the air, thinking he would surrender, but he did not, and the sheriff pressed into service the horses of two immigrants near by, and he and I pursued the fugitive, following him about four miles, where we suddenly came upon his camp of twenty-four men, armed with double-barrelled shotguns.
The man having had considerably the start of us, had time to get the camp rallied and ready for action, telling them that two men had shot at and were then in hot pursuit of him. We were not aware of his camp being there until we reached the brow of the bluff; then our only chance was to ride boldly down into the camp, which we did, the sheriff shouting, "Hold on, gentlemen! I am the sheriff of this county." The captain of the camp, being a cool-headed and fearless man, said to his men, "Hold on, boys, wait for the word."
The moment we got into camp we dismounted, and I presume that at least a dozen guns were leveled at us, their holders being greatly excited, and swearing death to us if we dared to lay a finger on the fugitive, or on any other person in the camp. The captain, however, said, "Hold on, boys! Let's hear what these men have to say." Then the sheriff said the man (pointing to the culprit) had committed an offense against the law, in threatening the lives of the boatmen, and leveling his gun as if to carry out the threat, and the sheriff had been ordered by the judge to arrest him, but he had defied the officer and fled. "But," said the captain, "you shot at him." To this the sheriff replied, "We called on him to halt, and as he refused to obey, a couple of shots were fired over his head to make him stop, but he did not do so, and we followed him to your camp. I now demand him of you as his captain."
At this the captain declared that the sheriff had shot at his man and had scared him almost to death. He pointed to the man, who was shaking as if he had a treble shock of the ague, and continued that before the sheriff should take him every drop of blood in the camp should be shed. The men brawled out, "Hear! Hear!" when the sheriff said, "All right, Captain. You may get away with us two, but we have between seventy-five and one hundred men just over the hills here, and in less than twenty-four hours we will have you and every man in your camp, and your stock will have to foot the bill."
Thereupon the captain made response that he would come and answer for his man, but the sheriff could not take him. Thus the matter was compromised subject to the court's approval. The captain promised to be at the judge's within two hours, and was there. So the whole matter was settled without bloodshed.
This incident is only an illustration of what had to be met every few days, in which men would refuse to yield to the law until they had to do so or die, and many were the times that we had to force them down with the revolver, when, if we had not had "the drop" on them they would not have yielded. We met men face to face, with deadly weapons, and if it had not been for the cunning and the cool head of "Bill" Hickman, as he was commonly called, blood would have been shed more than once when it was avoided. I speak of "Bill" Hickman as I found him in the short time I was with him. In his official capacity he was cunning, and was always ready to support the law while I was with him on Green River.
One day about 10 o'clock a.m., a herd of four hundred head of cattle came up, and the owners ferried their wagons across the river. Then they tried to swim their cattle over but could not do so. I stood by and watched their futile efforts until I observed the reason the cattle would not go across. Then I attempted to tell the captain that he could not swim his stock with the sun shining in their faces. The captain being one of those self-sufficient men often met with, rather snubbed me, saying, "I have handled cattle before today." I turned away, remarking that he never would get his cattle across in that manner, and saying that I could put every head over at the first attempt.
Some one repeated to the "boss" what I had said, and asked him why he did not get that mountaineer to help, as he understood the business better than anyone else on the river. "Well," he said, "we will make another try, and if we do not succeed, we will see what he can do." The trial was another failure. Then he came to me and said, "Cap., what will you charge me to swim those cattle, and insure me against loss?" I answered, "You have wearied your cattle and fooled them so much that it will be more trouble now than at first, but if you will drive your stock out on that 'bottom' and call your men away from them, I will swim them and insure every hoof, for twenty-five cents a head." Said he, "I will do it, for it will cost fifty cents a head to cross them in the boat. So you will take charge of them on the 'bottom?'"
"Yes," said I, "so you do not let them scatter too much."
The river was booming, but I knew of a place where the bank was three or four feet higher than the water, and where the stream ran swiftly, setting across to where the cattle would reach a gradual slope. I then went to a camp of Indians near by, and hired four of them to assist me. They stripped and mounted their ponies with their robes about them. One went between the cattle and the river, so as to lead, and the others circled around the stock and got them all headed toward the place designated for them to take to the water. Then they caused the cattle to increase their speed until they were on the gallop, when the Indians gave a few yells and shook their robes, the man in the lead leaped his horse into the river, and every hoof took to the water, and were across safe and sound within thirty minutes from the time they started. The captain paid without objecting, and would have me go over and take supper with him and his family. He said, "Aside from having my cattle across safe and sound, I have the worth of my money in valuable experience." Next day he was back over the river, and would tell of the incident and say to the drovers he met with, "There is that mountaineer. I am —— if he can't beat any man swimming cattle that I ever saw." And others would tell the drovers the same story.
Now, my friendly reader, I will tell you the secret of swimming horses and cattle across a river. It is: Find a place (which you always can do) somewhere in the bends of the watercourse, where you can swim your stock from the sun, and where they take to the water the deeper the better, even if you have to make them jump from the banks. The swifter the current the better; then they are not so likely to injure one another in jumping. Again, see that the outcoming place is on a grade, and the water is shallow. Then have some good swimmer, on horseback, take the lead; push your stock to a lively gait, and success is assured. I had charge of swimming ten thousand head of cattle across Green River, in the months of June and July, 1854, and never lost a hoof, yet forced hundreds of them over banks eight to ten feet high, into the water. In such case, the water must be deep, or we might have sustained damage. I have found, as a rule, that nearly all men who have much money or property think that they know it all, and are hard to convince. But some of the drovers learned by object lessons, and almost all of them thought they could swim their own cattle; and so they could have done, if they had known the correct plan, or had made the effort after sundown or before sunrise.
About the time set for his arrival, Washakie, the great Shoshone chieftain, came in with seven of his braves, and quietly walked around. First, he inspected the boat and its fixtures, or tackle; then he went to the brewery, the bakery, store, court room, whisky saloon, blacksmith shops, card tables, saw much money changing hands, and observed that money would purchase about anything the white man had.
When the chief had had a friendly visit all around, he went to the office of Captain Hawley, the ferryman. There he saw the captain taking and handling considerable money, among the precious metal being two or three fifty-dollar gold slugs. He asked for one of these, but the captain laughed at him, and offered him a silver dollar.
This action offended Washakie, who walked away, and by some means got hold of some intoxicants. Then he began to think what was going on in the land of his forefathers, and came to me and said: "This is my country, and my people's country. My fathers lived here, and drank water from this river, while our ponies grazed on these bottoms. Our mothers gathered the dry wood from this land. The buffalo and elk came here to drink water and eat grass; but now they have been killed or driven back out of our land. The grass is all eaten off by the white man's horses and cattle, and the dry wood has been burned; and sometimes, when our young men have been hunting, and got tired and hungry, they have come to the white man's camp, and have been ordered to get out, and they are slapped, or kicked, and called 'd—d Injuns.' Then our young men get heap mad, and say that when they have the advantage of the white man, as they have often, they will take revenge upon him. Sometimes they have been so abused that they have threatened to kill all the white men they meet in our land. But I have always been a friend to the white man, and have told my people never to moisten our land with his blood; and to this day the white man can not show in all our country where the Shoshone has killed one of his people, though we can point to many abuses we have patiently suffered from him. Now I can see that he only loves himself; he loves his own flesh, and he does not think of us; he loves heap money; he has a big bag full of it; he got it on my land, and would not give me a little piece. I am mad, and you heap my good friend, and I will tell you what I am going to do. Every white man, woman or child, that I find on this side of that water," pointing to the river, "at sunrise tomorrow I will wipe them out" (rubbing his hands together). He went on: "You heap my friend; you stay here all right; you tell them to leave my land. If they are on the other side of my water, all right, me no kill them, they go home to their own country, no come back to my land. Tomorrow morning when the sun come up, you see me. My warriors come, heap damn mad, and wipe them all out, no one leave."
"Good-by, you tell him, chief, he mad!" was Washakie's parting exclamation, as he mounted his horse and rode away to his camp on the Big Sandy, some fifteen miles back from the Green River.
CONSTERNATION AT WASHAKIE'S DECLARATION—PEOPLE HURRY ACROSS THE RIVER—THE WRITER IS ASKED TO ATTEMPT A RECONCILIATION—NIGHT TOO DARK TO TRAVEL—CHIEF WASHAKIE AND BRAVES APPEAR AT SUNRISE—THE CHIEF NOTES THAT THE PEOPLE ARE TERROR-STRICKEN, AND DECIDES THAT HE WILL BE THEIR FRIEND—TROUBLOUS EXPLOITS OF MOUNTAIN MEN—SHERIFF'S PLAN OF ARREST—HOW THE SCHEME WORKED—DESPERADOES FREED BY THE COURT—CHASING AN OFFENDER—SURROUNDED BY HIS ASSOCIATES—COOLNESS AND PLUCK OF THE SHERIFF WIN—READY TO RETURN HOME—A TRYING EXPERIENCE.
AS might have been expected, I lost no time in apprising the people of the Indian threat, and the white population promptly complied with the order to move; so that by daylight there was little of value on that side of the river. There was great consternation among the people, and Captain Hawley was quite willing to send a fifty-dollar slug to the chief; but it was late in the evening, and no one to go but myself. There was no telling how much liquor there might be in the Indian camp, so it was not a pleasant job for either friend or foe to approach the savages on such a dark night as that was. Although I had Washakie's promise of friendship, I knew that when the Indians were drunk they were not good company, and I did not care to expose myself to unnecessary danger.
Individually I had nothing at stake, but there were others who had their families and thousands of dollars' worth of property at the mercy of the enraged red men. In this crisis, when I was asked if I would take the risk, and what amount I would give my service for, I said I would undertake to go that night and attempt a reconciliation, and charge fifty dollars, if they would provide me with a good horse. That they agreed to do. The night was so dark, however, that it was impossible to get hold of a horse, so we had to move all of value that could be taken across the river. We also made every preparation for defense that was possible during the night.
Next morning, true to his promise, Chief Washakie, with fifteen well armed men, came up, just at sunrise. I went out to meet him, and found him perfectly sober and friendly, as also his men. The chief rode up and glanced at the desolate appearance of everything, and saw that the women and children were greatly frightened. His companions sat on their horses and looked across the river. Finally the noble chief said, referring to those who had left their homes. "Tell them to come back. We will not hurt them. We will be good friends."
Thus ended the big scare, and the people returned. But there was another stir to come; for in a few days the ferryman from the Upper Ferry, ten miles above the Middle Ferry, told Judge Appleby that a party of rough mountaineers had driven him off, threatening his life if he did not leave immediately. They had taken charge of the ferry, and were running it and pocketing the money. There were twenty-eight of them, determined "cut-throats," a part of the desperado band I have referred to before. The judge ordered the sheriff to summon every available man, and go at once and ascertain who the leaders were, then arrest them and bring them before the court. There were only fourteen men obtainable for the posse, and this number included the ferryman. The sheriff delegated me to take charge of the posse and go up on the east side of the river, ahead of him and the ferryman, who would come up on the west side some time after, so as not to create any unnecessary suspicion. He instructed us to be sociable with the outlaws, treat and be treated, and join in any game that might be engaged in. Said he, "We will get them drunk and divided among themselves, and then I think we can manage them."
The plan was laid, and every man being well armed, we set out on our hazardous mission. We had with us one man who could drink an enormous amount of whisky and yet not get drunk, for he would turn around and put his ringer down his throat and vomit up the liquor before it would affect him much. He said, "Boys, I can make a dozen of them drunk, and keep straight myself." He was asked how he would go about it, and replied, "Well, I will offer to drink more whisky than any man on the river, and we will drink by measure; then I will slip out and throw it up. To hide the trick you must push me out of doors roughly, as if mad. At other times jam me up in a corner, so I can throw up. Thus I will have half of them so drunk that anyone of you can handle half a dozen of them at once." His statement of his ability to drink and empty his stomach of it being corroborated, he was assigned that part of the strategy. Then another man, who had been a soldier in the Mexican war, said, "Well, if you will get them drunk, I will win the money from their own party to buy the whisky, for I know just how to do it." He was given that part, for whisky was fifty cents a drink.
When we had perfected arrangements as far as possible, we rode up, dismounting as if we had just happened to call and knew nothing of the trouble. Each man took his part, and played it well. To our surprise, we found their leader, L. B. Ryan, apparently in a drunken stupor; he was the same person I had met in the Shoshone Indian camp, five or six weeks before. As he and the sheriff had been on good terms, they drank together and appeared to be quite friendly; but the ferryman and one of the band of outlaws got into a fight, and revolvers and bowie knives were drawn. Twenty-five or thirty of the mountain men, with deadly weapons flourishing, rushed into the saloon in front of which the fight began. One man slashed the other with a knife, and one of them fired two shots, but some bystander knocked the weapon up, so it did no harm. The prompt action of the sheriff and his supports, together with the aid of a number of immigrants, stopped the row. If it had not been for that, a dozen men might have been slain in as many minutes. Some of the men were of the most desperate character, and swore and made terrible threats of what they would do.
At last the combatants drank together, while a number of others got so intoxicated they could scarcely stand alone. Then the sheriff called Ryan to one side and quietly arrested him, placing him under ten thousand dollars bonds for his appearance in court on a certain date. The ferryman and some of the more moderate of the outlaws compromised their difficulties, and business settled down to a normal condition. We went back to the Middle Ferry, and the sheriff made his returns on the official papers.
At the time appointed for Ryan to appear in court, he was there, with seven young, well-armed warriors and a number of his band, who sauntered around the court room. Ryan was so desperate and so well supported by his clique that the court was glad to let him down and out as easily as possible; for it was evident that the court must do that or die. So Ryan and his gang returned to their haunts more triumphant than otherwise.
So we had to deal with desperate men every day or two, and it was seldom indeed that we could effect an arrest without a determined show of arms. Yet, we were not compelled to use them. The offenders must see that we had them, and had the nerve to use them, before they would yield. In one instance I was ordered by the sheriff to take a man who had broken from the officer. The man was running, and I followed, revolver in hand. As the fugitive ran, he drew his weapon and wheeled around. I was so near as to place my revolver uncomfortably close to his face before he could raise his weapon. He saw at once that I had the "drop" on him, as we used to say, and delivered his revolver to me. The next moment the sheriff and posse had their backs together and weapons raised, while twenty-four armed men appeared on the scene and demanded the man. But when they looked into the muzzles of fourteen Colt's revolvers with bright, shining, waterproof caps exposed, and the sheriff called out in a firm and decisive voice, "I am the sheriff of Green River County, and have a writ for this man," they paused, though some of them swore the officers could not take the man from camp, and advanced in a threatening manner. Then the sheriff commanded, "Halt! The first man that advances another step, or raises his weapon, is a dead man. Stand! I, as sheriff, give you fair warning." At that some of the more cautious said, "Hold on, boys! We must not oppose an officer," and all concluded they must give up the man and submit to the law for that time. The offense of the accused was shooting the ferryman's dog, while the latter was eating something under the table, and while the ferryman's wife and daughter were standing at the table washing dishes; and when the ferryman remonstrated at such conduct, threatening to shoot him. Ultimately the matter was compromised, the culprit and his friends paying the costs.
On the 7th of July, I began preparations to return to Fort Supply, as my real missionary labors seemed to have come to an end in that part, and I was glad of it. From May 13 to July 8, 1854, had been one of the most hazardous, soul-trying, disagreeable experiences of my life, for the short period it occupied. I have written a very brief synopsis of it in the foregoing account; for it might seem impossible to the person of ordinary experience for so many thrilling incidents as I had witnessed to happen in so short a time.
GO TO FORT SUPPLY—START BACK TO GREEN RIVER AND MEET O. P. ROCKWELL AT FORT BRIDGER—HE BRINGS ME A TRADER'S LICENSE, ALSO GOODS TO TRADE TO THE INDIANS—BEING LATE IN THE SEASON, WE STORE THE GOODS, AND GO TO SALT LAKE CITY—RECEIVE THE APPROVAL OF GOVERNOR YOUNG—MOVE TO OGDEN—ACCOMPANY GOVERNOR YOUNG AS INTERPRETER—MY HORSE STOLEN—CALLED ON A MISSION TO THE SHOSHONES—ON GOING TO SALT LAKE CITY, I AM RELEASED—ORDERED TO TAKE PART IN DISARMING INDIANS AT OGDEN—A DIFFICULT JOB—CHASE TO MOUND FORT—HAND-TO-HAND STRUGGLE WITH A POWERFUL SAVAGE—INDIANS DISARMED, BUT SULLEN—CHIEF'S BROTHER OFFERS ALL HIS POSSESSIONS FOR HIS GUN—PRECAUTIONS TAKEN TO FEED THE INDIANS THAT WINTER—TEACH THE INDIAN LANGUAGE IN SCHOOL—PROSPER IN BUSINESS.
ON July 9, I started for Fort Supply, arriving there on the 11th, where I found all well. On the 14th I began a journey back to Green River, but met Porter Rockwell at Fort Bridger. He had a license from Governor Brigham Young for me to trade with the Indians; also some two or three thousand dollars' worth of Indian goods for me to market. At that time there was no opportunity to trade, as the Indians had disposed of their robes, pelts and furs for the season, so we sent the goods to Fort Supply and had them stored there.
I accompanied Rockwell to Salt Lake City, arriving there on July 19. We reported conditions to the governor, who received us very kindly, and approved of what we had done. On August 15 I went to Ogden City and on the 28th accompanied Governor Young, as interpreter, to Chief Catalos' camp of Shoshones, four miles north of Ogden. This large camp of Indians had some grievances to settle, and particularly desired to ask favors and get a better understanding with the white men through their big chief. The Indians claimed that they were friendly to the whites, and wanted the latter to be friendly to them; they also wished to have trade brought to them. The governor gave them a liberal present of assorted Indian goods, talked friendship, and told them he would leave other goods with me to trade. He also advised them to be good people, and to live at peace with all men, for we had the same great Father. Governor Young told them it would be good for them to settle down like the white man, and learn of him how to cultivate the land as he did, so that when the game was all gone they could live and have something to eat and to feed their families on. The Indians said this was "heap good talk," and their hearts felt good; so we parted with them in the best of feelings, notwithstanding that some of their bad Indians had stolen my only horse from where I had picketed him on the bottoms. I did not learn the facts in the case in time to get redress, and all the consolation I could obtain was that the thief did not know it was my animal—"heap no good Indian steal your horse."
I returned to Ogden City, and there continued to trade with the Indians as they came, until October 10, on which date I received a letter from Elder Orson Hyde, stating that Governor Young wished me to go on a mission among the Shoshones that winter. I answered the call, but when I got to Salt Lake City, on the way, it had been learned that the Indians had gone out so far into the buffalo country that it was not advisable for me to follow them; so I returned to Ogden and continued to visit and trade with the Indians, and got up my winter's wood.
On November 20 Wm. Hickman, L. B. Ryan and D. Huntington came up from Salt Lake City with an order to Major Moore and the citizens of Weber County to disarm Chief Little Soldier and his band of Indians, and distribute them among the families in Weber County where the people were best able to feed and clothe them for the winter, and set them to work; for they had become very troublesome to the citizens of that county, by killing cattle, burning fences, and intimidating isolated families. On the 30th the major called on me to go with his party to the Indian camp at West Weber. I did so, and with considerable talking we got the Indians to accompany us to Ogden City. Still, they felt very warlike and stubborn, being unwilling to give up their arms.
In the midst of the parley, the three men from Salt Lake City returned to that place, and the Indians were allowed to go with their arms across the Ogden River and camp among the willows near Mound Fort. On December 1st we went after them, finding them so hostile that we had to make a show of arms before they would submit to our proposition of distributing them among the whites, but when we brought a squad of armed men they very reluctantly and sullenly complied, so we marched them back to Ogden City, to a location on Main Street, near where the old tithing office stood. Almost every man that had side arms was called to mingle among the Indians, so that each man could command a warrior by disarming him by force if he refused to surrender his arms at the command of the major, which command I was required to repeat in the Indian dialect. At the word, each man was to take hold of an Indian's gun, and I was to tell the aborigines to surrender; but there was not a man who obeyed the order, for what reason I do not know. I then went through the crowd of Indians and took every weapon with my own hands. The white men took them from me, and they were stored in the tithing office, a guard being placed over them.
Just then a young Indian was observed on horseback, going northward as fast as his horse could carry him. Some one said, "There goes that Indian boy to warn a camp over by Bingham Fort!" Major Moore had one of the fastest animals in the county; he ordered me to "take her and beat the boy into camp, or run her to death. Don't spare horseflesh. Call out the citizens and disarm every Indian you find."
I obeyed the order, and found a small party of Indians camped in the center of what was called Bingham Fort. Just as the Indian boy reached the camp, I entered the east gate of the square, and rode to the west gate, shouting to the people, "To arms! To arms! Turn out, every man, and help to disarm the Indians!" Men turned out quickly and surrounded the camp. I succeeded in reaching the west gate just in time to wheel and grab a big Ute's gun as he was trying to pass me. He held to it firmly, and both struggled with a death-like grip. We looked each other squarely in the eyes, with a determined expression. At last his eyes dropped, and his gun was in my possession. He was full of wrath and a desire for vengeance. I found him to be one of the strongest men I had ever grappled with anywhere.
I next turned to the camp and disarmed all the Indians in it, placed their weapons under guard and sent them to Ogden, then vainly tried to talk the red men into reconciliation. I next returned to Ogden, and there found the whites and Indians on the streets, the latter as discontented as ever. The major and I tried to pacify them, but they were very stubborn and sullen. At last the chief's brother said, "Here are my wife, my children, my horses and everything that I have. Take it all and keep it, only give me back my gun and let me go free. I will cast all the rest away. There is my child," pointing to a little three-year-old, "take it." The little innocent held up its hands and cried for the father to take it, but he frowned and looked at it as with a feeling of disgust, saying, "Go away. You are not mine, for I have thrown you away, and will not have you any more."
This spirit was but a reflex of that which animated the whole band; "for," said they, "we are only squaws now. We cannot hunt or defend our families. We are not anybody now." But finally, though very sullenly, they went home with the whites and pitched their tents in the back yards. To us it did seem hard to have them feel so bad, but they had no means of support for the winter, the citizens could not afford to have their stock killed off and their fences burned, and it was the better policy to feed the Indians and have them under control. They could husk corn, chop wood, help do chores, and be more comfortable than if left to roam; but for all that, they were deprived of that broad liberty to which they and their fathers before them had been accustomed, therefore they felt it most keenly. As I was the only white man who could talk much with them, I was kept pretty busy laboring with them.
In the evening of December 3rd the Indians had a letter from Governor Young. I read and interpreted it to them. Then for the first time they seemed reconciled to their situation. Their chief was filled with the spirit of approval of the course that had been taken with them, and he preached it long and strong. After that, the Indians and the citizens got along very well together, and I continued teaching and preaching to the former.
December 5th I took up school and taught the Indian language, or rather the Shoshone dialect. I had about thirty male adults attending. Brother George W. Hill, who afterwards became the noted Shoshone interpreter in Weber County, was one of them.
I was very much prospered that winter, purchased a city lot and quarter of another on Main Street, fenced the lot, closed my trading with the Indians, and settled with D. H. Wells for the goods I had had.
ANOTHER MISSION TO THE INDIANS—START FOR THE SHOSHONE CAMP—DIFFICULTIES OF TRAVEL—NEAR THE CROWS AND BLACKFEET—A DREAM GIVES WARNING OF DANGER—DISCOVER A LARGE BODY OF INDIANS—NO OPPORTUNITY OF ESCAPE—RIDE INTO THE CAMP OF A HUNTING AND WAR PARTY—MEET CHIEF WASHAKIE—A DAY'S MARCH—SITUATION CRITICAL—HOLD A COUNCIL—PRESENT THE BOOK OF MORMON—ALL BUT WASHAKIE SPEAK AGAINST US AND THE BOOK—AWAITING THE CHIEF'S DECISION.
AT a general conference held in Salt Lake City, April 6, 1855, I was again called to go east among the Indians, to labor with and for them. I was appointed by President Brigham Young to take the presidency of the mission among the Shoshones. At this call I hastened to provide as comfortably as possible for my family, and to fit myself for the mission assigned me.
I set out on May 8, 1855, in company with four other Elders, going east via Salt Lake City. I drove one of the two teams, to pay for the hauling of my baggage, as I had no team of my own. On the 10th we reached Salt Lake City, and left the same day. On the 11th we overtook another wagon and two of our fellow-missionaries. We arrived at Fort Supply on the 17th, having had a pleasant trip. We found seven Elders planting the crop. On the 18th we joined them in the work of plowing and seeding, and repairing the stockade and fences. On the 29th, eight of us fitted up a four-horse team and wagon and six saddle horses and started for the Shoshone camps, which we had heard were on the headwaters of either the Green or the Snake River. On June 1st we came to a tributary of the Green River, called the Fontenelle. There we rested one day, then moved camp up to the mouth of the canyon.
On the 3rd of June, E. B. Ward, Joshua Terry and I crossed over the divide between the Green and Snake Rivers, leaving Elder George W. Boyd in charge of camp. The three of us went along the western slope, passing one lodge of friendly Indians. On the 5th we came to Siveadus' camp of twenty lodges. He and his people were very cool towards us, so we proceeded to a stream called Piney, and up that to the top of the divide, from where we could see to the head waters of the Wind River. Having been told that Washakie and his camp were somewhere on the headwaters of Horse Creek, we made for that point, traveling over snowdrifts that we supposed were fifty feet deep. The descent was very steep, and in some places rather dangerous. That night our coffee basins, that were left standing half or two-thirds full of water, had become frozen solid; and the weather seemed seasonable for Christmas.
We suffered much with cold until 10 o'clock a.m., on the 7th of June. We turned northeast, and came onto Horse Creek, camping just below its mouth, under a high, steep bluff, in a fine grove of cottonwoods. Everything seemed deathly still. We were in the borders of the Crow and Blackfeet Indians' country, with jaded horses, so that if we were discovered it would be impossible to escape. We began to feel a little concern for our scalps, for we were aware that both the Crows and the Blackfeet were hostile. We gathered our wood, taking care that no branch or anything connected with our fire would make much blaze or smoke, lest by it we should be discovered. Everything being placed in the best possible position for flight or fight, as might seem best if emergency should arise, we rested there that night; and something told us we should not go farther north, but that south should be our course in the morning.
Early the following morning, about 3 o'clock, I dreamed that I saw a large band of Indians come down and pitch camp on the creek above us. I was so forcibly impressed that I awoke the other two men, and told them I felt confident that the dream was true, and that we would prove it at daylight. They agreed with me, so I told them to make as dark a fire as was possible, and to get breakfast, while I would go on the high bluff that overlooked camp and the country adjacent, where I would watch everything that moved, and if there were friends or foes in the country we would see them or their lights before they should see ours. We all arose at once, the others preparing the meal and saddling the horses ready for a hasty move, while I went up on the bluff and there kept a sharp lookout until the dawn. At the first streaks of daylight I saw a blue smoke creeping up through the willows, perhaps a mile and a half above me, then another and another, until it was plain there was a camp of Indians just where I had dreamed they were. Soon the tops of lodges appeared, then a band of ponies was driven up. By this time it was fairly daylight.
I reported to the others what I had seen, and we took breakfast. By the time the sun cast his earliest rays over the landscape, we were in the saddle. Then came the question, what shall we do? To flee was folly, for it was not likely that we would escape the ever vigilant eye of the red man, in an open country like that was. We decided to ride out boldly on the open bench, and go straight to their camp. No sooner had we done so than we were discovered, and some twenty or more warriors started to encircle us, but we rode direct for the camp without showing any concern.
Soon we were completely surrounded by a score of armed warriors in full costume of war paint; as these closed in their circle, they saluted us with a war-whoop. Some had "green" scalps hanging from their bridle bits, while others had them suspended from their surcingles. As the warriors drew nearer to us it became evident that they were of the Shoshone tribe, but we could not recognize any one of them, and they did not appear to recognize us. When we spoke to them and offered to shake hands, they shook their heads and pointed us to the camp, while they proudly escorted us there, some going before us and clearing the way up to the lodge of Washakie, their chief, who, with some of his leading men, stood waiting to receive us. As we rode up, Washakie and his associates stepped forward, and in a very friendly manner shook hands. By gestures they said, "We are moving camp, and you will go and camp with us tonight. Then we will hear what you have to say. We fell in with a war party of Crows and Blackfeet yesterday, and defeated them, and now we are fleeing to a safe place for our women and children, lest they get reinforcements and come upon us and our families;" then with a motion, the chief said, "Forward," and soon the whole band was on the move.
We estimated that the Indians numbered about three thousand all told, and there was a pony for every soul; they were well supplied with rifles, Colt's revolvers, bows, arrows, shields and some cutlasses, and large, heavy knives. They were excellently mounted, and their discipline could not well be improved for the country they were passing over and the force they were most likely to fall in with. Their flanking party was so arranged as to act as a front guard, and at the same time drive all the game into a circle and thence into a second circle, so that everything, down to the smallest chipmunk and squirrel, was bagged. This was over a strip of country about eight miles by thirty; and the pack of sagehens and squirrels that was brought into camp was astonishing. The old and middle-aged men formed the rear guard, while the whole female portion of the camp drove the pack animals. The chief and his most confidential advisers rode just in front of these, and we were called to be a part of the escort.
When all was on the move, the camp made quite a formidable appearance. It looked to us as if the shrubbery on our way had changed suddenly into a moving army, what with people and ponies all moving up hill and down, over the rolling country, to the south, between the high Snake and Wind River ranges of the great Rocky Mountains. We thought of ancient Israel, of the Ten Tribes coming from the north country, and of the promises that had been made to the Indians by the prophets of their forefathers.
To us this was a great day of thought and meditation, for at times it seemed to us that we could see the opening glories of a better day, and could almost declare, "Now is the dawn of the day of Israel," for we had a letter from that modern Moses, President Brigham Young, to read and interpret to the red men, and also the Book of Mormon to introduce to them that very evening, for the first time; and the question uppermost in our minds was as to whether they would receive it or not, for there were many hard looking countenances in the throng, and we could see plainly from their frowns that they were not at all friendly to us.
When we had traveled till about 3 o'clock p.m., camp was made in a lovely valley. The chief's lodge was first pitched, clean robes spread, and we were invited to take seats thereon. Our horses, packs and all, were taken charge of by the women of the camp, just where we dismounted, and we had no more to do with our animals until we had use for them next day.
A little fire having been built in the center of the lodge, the councilors began to file into their places, each very quietly shaking hands with us, some of them very coldly. When all was quiet, the chief said, by gesture, "Now tell us what you have to say. Tell it straight, and no crooked talk, for we do not want any lies, but the truth." It seemed to us that they were ready for square work, so, with as few words as possible, we told Washakie we had a letter from the big Mormon captain to him and his people. Then he said, "Tell us what it says," and between the three of us we could tell him every word.
I am sorry that I have not at hand the full text of the letter, but it was a very friendly document, and, so far as I can now remember, told them that President Young had sent us to Washakie and his people as their friends, that we were truthful and good men, who would tell them many good things about how to live in peace with all people; that President Young and the Mormon people were true friends to the Indian race, and wished them to be our friends, that we might live in peace with each other, for it would not be many years before all the game would be killed off or driven out of the country, and the white men would want to come and settle in the land; that if the Indians would settle down and build houses like the white man, and cultivate the land as the white man did, when the game was gone they and their families would have something to eat. President Young proposed to furnish seed and tools, and some good men to show and help the Indians to put in their crops. The letter further said that after a while, when we understood each other better, we would tell them about their forefathers, and about God; that we had a book that told a great many things regarding the Great Spirit's dealings with their forefathers, and what He would do for them and their children. Then we presented the Book of Mormon to Washakie, while his lefthand man filled the pipe and drew a rude figure of the sun, in the ashes of the smouldering fire; he also muttered a few unintelligible words, smote his chest with his hand, took a whiff or two from the pipe, passed it to the next man on his left, and reached for the book; he opened it and said it was no good for them—that it was only good for the white man.
In that same order the pipe and book passed around the circle twenty-one times, and each time the Indian made a new figure in the ashes, each representing a different planet. During the whole time only one man spoke at once. One said, "This book is of no use to us. If the Mormon captain has nothing better to send than this, we had better send it, his letter, and these men, back to him, and tell him that they are no good to us, that we want powder, lead and caps, sugar, coffee, flour, paints, knives, and blankets, for those we can use. Send these men away to their own land."
Another of the council, when it came to his turn, said, "We have no use for this book. If the paper were all cut out and thrown away, we could sew up the ends and put a strap on it, and it would do for the white man's money bag; but we have no use for it, for we have no money to put in it." He could not understand what good it was to the Shoshone, and said, "Let the white man take it and go home, and come back with something that we can eat, or use to hunt with."
These were the sentiments expressed by the members of the council. But Washakie had not yet spoken, and we anxiously awaited his decision.