CHAPTER SIXTEENHOMEWARD BOUND

“She knew me the moment she saw me.”CHAPTER SIXTEENHOMEWARD BOUND

“She knew me the moment she saw me.”

When we started to leave the village, how my mother did cry! I tried to comfort her by telling her not to feel bad, for I should soon be back. Little did I think it would be the last time I should see her, for I fully intended to return that fall.

We took plenty of dried meat with us to last us through the trip, and away we went. On the fourth day, at noon, we came to a place on the Bear River about twenty miles north of Brigham City, Utah. We stayed there the rest of the day to give our horses a little rest. The two Indians said that they would go no farther, for I could find the way from there very well.

The next morning they helped me pack my horses and put me on the right trail, telling me not to ride too fast, for I could get to the white settlement long before night.

As I left them I said, “You may look for me back in a few days.”

“Don’t try to come back this fall,” they said, “for it is getting too late to cross the mountains, and we mayhave a big snow at any time now. It will take you six days to get home from here, and that will make it too late for you to return. You had better stay home this winter. The Indians will be there next summer. You can come back with them.”

About noon I came to some warm springs. I thought it would be a good idea to wash my face and hands as I had not done it very often for the past two years. I saw that I had plenty of time, for the sun was high, so I unpacked and staked my horses and went to work to give myself a good scrubbing. I ran my fingers through my hair to get the snarls out, but after all my fussing I could not see that I looked much better.

My hands were like an Indian’s and my costume was in the latest Indian fashion. My leggings were trimmed with new red flannel, my shirt was of antelope skins, and my frock of heavy buckskin, smoked to a nice reddish hue, with beads of all colors in wide stripes down the breast and on the shoulders, and fringes all around the bottom that reached nearly to my knees. My cap was made of rawhide, with notches all around the top, and looked like a crosscut saw turned upside down. It came to a peak in front, and mother had put a crown in it with muskrat skin.

After I had scrubbed off all the dirt I could, I packed up and started again. I could see the little town long before I came to it. At the first house I reached a man had just driven up with a load of hay. When I asked him where I could find a place to camp, he told me to stay at his place if I wanted to, that he had plenty of hay, and I was welcome, so I took him at his word. Unpacking my horses I tied them under the shed and fed them. By that time the man came out and said that supper was ready. I told him that I had plenty to eat and would rather not go in.

“Come and eat with me,” he insisted, and taking me by the hand, he led me into the house.

The women and children stared at me so hard that I felt uncomfortable. The children would look at me, then turn to one another and laugh.

“I suppose you would like to wash before you eat,” said the lady. She gave me some water and soap. It was the first soap I had seen for two years. After I had washed, she told me to sit down at the table.

“Don’t you take off your hat when you eat?” the man asked.

“No,” I said.

“Will you please take it off here?”

I pulled it off.

They had bread and butter and potatoes and gravy and milk—the first I had seen since I left home. But I was mighty glad when I got away from that table.

I went out and watered my horses and gave them some more hay. By this time it was dark, so I made my bed and turned in. Just as I was getting into bed, I saw this man go down town and pretty soon he came back with three more men. I saw them go into the house. Shortly afterwards he came out and said that the bishop was in the house and would like to have a talk with me. I told him that I did not want to talk; but he kept at me until I got up and went into the house.

The bishop said his name was Nichols, or something like that; then he added, “I see by your dress that you have been with the Indians.”

I told him that I had lived with them for a year or two.

He said that he had read in the papers about a little boy running away with the Indians, and he thought I might be that boy.

“Maybe I am,” I said.

“To what tribe do you belong?”

“Washakie’s tribe.”

“I have heard,” he said, “that Washakie is a chief among the Shoshones and that his tribe is friendly to the white people. What do you know about them?”

“Washakie’s band,” I replied, “are good Indians. I have heard the chief say many times that he was a friend to the people of Utah, that he had seen their big chief, who was a very good ‘tibo.’”

“What is that?” he asked.

“Oh, I forgot I was talking to white men,” I said; “‘tibo’ means friend.”

I told them that he had no need to fear Washakie’s tribe, but that old Pocatello had drawn away some of Washakie’s Indians, and that they were bad Indians, who were doing everything against the whites they could. Washakie had told me they were killing the emigrants and stealing their horses and burning their wagons.

Well, this bishop talked and talked, and asked me ten thousand questions, it seemed to me. Finally the woman took pity on me and said, “Do let the poor boy rest.”

I told them I had always been in bed by dark and that I felt pretty tired.

“Well,” said the bishop, “you may go to bed now, and I will see you in the morning. You had better come down to my house and stay all day. I should like very much to have Brother Snow talk with you.”

I didn’t say anything, but I thought that neither Snow nor rain would catch me in that place another day, so I was up by the peep of day and away I went. I traveled seven or eight miles and stopped by some hot springs, unpacked my horses, and got me something to eat. I thought that I would not stop in any more houses where bishops could get hold of me and talk me to death.

After my horses had fed, I started on my way again, and after traveling about ten miles more, I came to a place called Ogden. As I was going along the main street, a man standing by a store stopped me and began talking Indian to me. He asked me where I had been. I told him. While we were talking, several more men came up and one of them asked me where I was going to camp that night. I told him that I did not know, but that I would go on down the road a piece until I found grass and water. He asked me to put my horses in his corral and give them all the hay they could eat.

“No,” I said, “I would rather go on.”

“No,” he said, “you must stop here tonight.” With that he took the rope out of my hands and let my horses into his corral. I followed him, and when I had unpacked I asked him if he was a bishop. He said he was. I told him I thought so.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you talk so much.”

He laughed and said that I must not mind that, for they seldom saw a person like me, and they wanted to find out all they could about the Indians.

After a while he invited me in to supper. I did not want to go, but he would have his way, so I went in with him. I think he said his name was West.

This Bishop West, if that was his name, asked me a good many questions, but he said he would not weary me by talking too long. I was in bed soon after dark that night. I intended to get off early the next morning, and give them the slip as before; but just as I was packing up, the bishop came out and said, “Hold on there, you are not going before breakfast.”

I told him that I had plenty to eat with me; but he insisted that I take breakfast with him, and I had to stay.He asked me a great many more questions, but he was very nice about it. I felt glad to talk with him, for he was so kind and good to me.

Jordan River and Wasatch Mountains, Salt Lake Valley, Utah. The Pony Express and Overland Stage road ran through this valley.

He said that I would be a very useful man, if I was treated right. He asked me whether I had been to school much, and he was very much surprised when I told him that I had never attended school a day in my life. He said that I must go to school, and if I lived near him he would see that I did go. As I started away he asked me to go and see Governor Young when I got to Salt Lake; but I thought I did not want to do it. I was a young boy then and did not realize the importance of his request.

That day I reached a place called Farmington. Just as I was nearing town, I saw some boys driving cows.

“Where can I camp tonight?” I asked them.

“Up on the mountain if you want to,” said one of them.

“You think you are pretty smart,” I said.

“Just as smart as you, Mr. Injun,” he replied; “if you don’t believe it, just get off that buzzard head of a horse and I’ll show you.”

I jumped off and he ran. I got on my horse and started after them, but they scrambled through the fence and ran away through the fields. I went on through the town, and after getting permission from the owner, camped in his field, and I was not bothered with any questions that night.

The next morning I was off pretty early and reached Salt Lake City. I did not stay there, however, but went on through and stopped at the Jordan River bridge for noon. This was a familiar road to me now, for I had been in the city several times before. That afternoon I journeyed on to what we called Black Rock and camped that night at the southern end of Great Salt Lake. I was nowwithin a short day’s ride of home. I could hardly stay there till morning, I was so anxious now to get home.

Just as I was making camp, a team drove up with three people in the wagon. I knew them. They were John Zundel, his sister Julia, and Jane Branden, our nearest neighbors, but they did not know me at first.

I had a fire and was broiling a rabbit I had killed, when Julia came up and tried to get a good look at me, but I kept my face turned from her as much as I could. Finally she got a glimpse of my face and went to the wagon. I heard her say to Jane,

“That is the whitest Indian I ever saw, and he has blue eyes.”

“I’ll bet a dollar it is Nick Wilson,” said Jane.

They came over where I was and Jane said, “Look up here, young man, and let us see you.”

I let them take a look at me.

“I knew it was you, you little scamp!” she said, taking hold of me and shaking me and patting me on the back.

“I’ve a good notion to flog you,” she went on. “Your poor mother has worried herself nearly to death about you.”

Morning came at last, and I packed up in a hurry to get home. I did not stop this time until I reached it.

As I rode up, two of my little sisters, who were playing by the side of the house, ran in and told mother that an Indian was out there. She came to the door, and she knew me the moment she saw me. I cannot tell you just what passed the next hour, but they were all happy to have me back safe at home again.

I had forgotten all about my horses in the joy of the meeting. When I finally went out to unpack them, the folks all followed me and mother asked, “Where did youget all of those horses? Did you take them from the Indians and run away?”

I told her that they were mine, that I had not run away from the Indians as I had from her. After that I put my ponies in the field, and answering their eager questions, I told them all about my two years among the Indians.

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