The Seven Mounds.
Manysolicitous enquiries have been made in the last decade relative to the whereabouts or probable fate of Aaron B. Hilliker, telegraph operator, minstrel and story writer.
Aaron Burr Hilliker was known from New York to San Francisco prior to the War of the Rebellion. His was an adventurous nature, and he assisted materially in making the path to the great West easier for the next comer. He possessed a gentle spirit and many lovable traits, which endeared him to all his friends, who were legion. The following weird story which came to the knowledge of the writer may establish beyond question the passing of Aaron B. Hilliker, and his last days on earth.
A party of thirteen left Boston in May, 1888, bound for the West. It consisted of John B. Lansing, his wife and her sister, and eight young fellows around town, well to do and of an adventurous turn of mind, the party being under the guidance of two middle-aged prospectors. These two latter personages had come to Boston to organize this party for the purpose of prospecting and developing some alleged wonderful gold mines in Southern Nevada and California.
The members of this little party were in high spirits as they pursued their journey to the far West; the grandeur of the scenery and the vastness of the country filling all with awe and admiration.
Many stops were made en route on the trip, mostly in Colorado, Wyoming and Utah. At one of the stations in Colorado Mr. Lansing and his wife formed the acquaintance of a telegraph operator. He had passed the middleage, but was hale and hearty. He appeared to be thoroughly conversant with the country, and as the party numbered the unlucky thirteen the operator was asked to join the adventurers, which he did. It is said that his singing “The Old Oaken Bucket,†which was rendered in a most artistic manner, was one of the leading attractions that enabled the telegraph operator to be offered a place with the party.
It was some time in July, 1888, that a caravan composed of seven wagons drawn by a dozen horses and a yoke of oxen made their departure from Reno, Nev., bound south. No address was left with any of the merchants who fitted out the party, and it appeared as if that were to be a secret. There were two ladies in the party, properly dressed for the occasion. The ox team was driven by a man of fifty-five or thereabouts, who seemed to be the life of the caravan. He was continually cracking jokes upon his comrades, and just before leaving, he with three other good voices, sang, “The Old Oaken Bucket,†which received a rousing encoure.
As the caravan paid cash for everything they obtained, the episode of their coming and going passed out of the minds of most everyone excepting the several persons that helped to outfit the party.
The caravan went due south through Carson and Jack’s Valley, where they entered the sterile country once known on the maps as the “Great American Desert.â€
It was in June, 1907, that Eugene Burdick, mining engineer, civil engineer and prospector, residing in Tuolumne County, Cal., received a letter from Boston, which read as follows:
“I am seeking information regarding a party that left Boston in May, 1888, bound for Southern Nevada and California. I am willing to pay $5,000 for authentic information, which will enable me to establish beyond anydoubt the fate of these people. There were thirteen persons, two women and eleven men. The leader of the party was John B. Lansing, and it is of his fate that I desire to know, because a large estate is in litigation. The last heard from Lansing, was from Reno, Nev., in July, 1888.â€
Burdick was well acquainted with all the country leading from Reno to the south, and readily accepted the mission. His visit to Reno elicited the facts related above, and taking up the clue Burdick began his laborious task of finding the lost caravan. Carefully he followed them across mountains and desert, through what looked like inaccessible canyons, but not one item of intelligence could he learn of the missing ones.
It was on the evening of the seventh day after leaving Reno that Eugene Burdick stopped for the night at the wickiup of Shoshone Joe on the border of Death Valley. This Indian had lived in and around this neighborhood with his wife Sally for more than twenty-five years, and was a character well known to emigrants and prospectors.
A present of a few trinkets to the Indian made him quite friendly. Burdick enquired if they had ever seen a caravan of seven wagons passing that way long ago. Shoshone Joe with many “ughs,†“ughs,†picked up seven twigs, which he placed in the ground in a straight line a few inches apart, and then taking a stick with one sweep knocked them all down, dramatically exclaiming, “All gone.â€
Burdick inferred from this that the Indian knew something which might assist him in finding the lost ones. He gathered that the Indian had seen the party, and had furnished them with fresh water prior to their crossing the valley. A blinding sand-storm occurred a few hours later, and the caravan lost its way, going south of the regular trail. Shoshone Joe said, that once when he wasdown the valley he could see seven little hills at a distance of ten miles, but Indian-like, he was afraid of the “Debbil,†and he had never investigated.
This information interested Burdick very much, and by making a few more presents he induced the Indian next morning to come with him and locate the seven hills he had told about.
Taking a two days’ supply of water and a pick and shovel, Burdick with his companion started across the valley in the direction indicated by Shoshone Joe. The route was arduous, the sand being so deep and fine not more than a mile and a half an hour could be traveled.
Five miles of this wearisome journey had been traversed when Burdick located, by means of his spyglass, the seven mounds described by the Indian, at a distance of probably ten miles away to the south, and this added fresh impetus to his efforts.
Six hours later the twain arrived at the seven mounds. A vigorous blow with the pick axe felled a mound to the earth, and two skeletons fell out into the deep sand. The relics were those of a wagon which was ready to crumble to pieces, the tires on the wheels being worn as fine as ribbons. This wagon had been drawn by an ox team, the horns and bones of which were half covered with the desert sand.
Twenty feet further along was another similar mound. It took but a little shake to bring the second wagon to the ground, and two more skeletons were exposed to view. An object that proved to be a gold watch and chain fell out into the sand, but was speedily found by the watchful Burdick. He pried open the case of the watch, and on the inside read the following inscription: “To John B. Lansing from his wife, Dec. 25, 1886.â€
â€This is all the proof that I want,†said Burdick, and bidding goodbye to the gruesome spectacle he beat ahasty retreat. The Boston people were satisfied with Burdick’s story, and the evidence that he produced, and he received the reward.
The shifting, treacherous sands now completely cover the seven little mounds, and all that is mortal of Aaron Burr Hilliker, telegraph operator, philosopher, bohemian, gentleman.
Illustration: End of Chapter 28.