fV'P THIS-BOOK-IS PROVIDED *BY THE-PEOPLE OF-THE UNITED-STATES THROUGH-THE AMERICAN LIBRARY ASSOCIATION FOR THE-USE-OF THE-SOLDIERS AND-SAILORS J ilH The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 982 8? FEB e 9 • 933 APR £ 1 1983 JUN 2 2 IS JAN 3 1 1985 ! ffe o * 1988 APR 2 0 199 W 0 319*9 L161 — 0-1096 D7642dl 1905 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/thirtyoneyearson00dran_0 / THIRTY-ONE YEARS ON THE OR, THE LAST VOICE FROM THE PLAINS. \N AUTHENTIC RECORD OF A LIFE TIME OF HUNTING, TRAPPING, SCOUTING AND INDIAN FIGHTING IN THE FAR WEST BY CAPT. WILLIAM F. DRANNAN, WliO WENT ON TO THE PLAINS WHEN FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. COPIOUSLY ILLUSTRATED BY H. S. DeLAY. And Many Reproductions from Photographs. CHICAGO: Rhodes & McClure Publishing Company. * 9->5 Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1900 by the Rhodes & McClure Publishing Company in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. All Rights Reserved. PLYMOUTH PRINTING & BINDING Q[). CHICAGO. 1905 PREFACE. In writing this preface I do so with the full knowledge that the preface of a book is rarely read, comparatively speaking, but I shall write this one just the same. In writing this work the author has made no attempt at romance, or a great literary production, but has nar- rated in his own plain, blunt way, the incidents of his life as they actually occurred. There have been so many books put upon the market, purporting to be the lives of noted frontirsmen which are only fiction, that I am moved to ask the reader to con- sider well before condemning this book as such. The author starts out with the most notable events of his boyhood days, among them his troubles with «an old negro virago, wherein he gets his reveng^ by throw- ing a nest of lively hornets under her feet. Then come his flight and a trip, to St. Louis, hundreds of miles on foot, his accidental meeting with that most eminent man of his class, Kit Carson, who takes the lad into his care and treats him as a kind father would a son. He then proceeds to give a minute description of his first trip on the plains, where he meets and associates with such noted planismen as Gen. John Charles Fremont, James Beckwith, Jim Bridger and others, and gives incidents of his association with them in scouting, trapping, hunting big game, Indian fighting, etc. The author also gives brief sketches of the springing 8 PREFACE. into existence of many of the noted cities of the West, and the incidents connected therewith that have never been written before. There is also a faithful recital of his many years of scouting for such famous Indian fighters as Gen. Crook, Gen. Connor, Col. Elliott, Gen. Whea- ton and others, all of which will be of more than passing interest to those who can be entertained by the early his- tory of the western part of our great republic. This work also gives an insight into the lives of the hardy pioneers of the far West, and the many trials and hardships they had to undergo in blazing the trail and hewing the way to one of the grandest and most health- ful regions of the United States. W F. D. Chicago, August ist, 1899. r Capt. W. F. Drannan and Black Bess Taking a Nap. CONTENTS. 9 CONTENTS. Chapter i. A Boy Escapes a Tyrant and Pays a Debt with a Hornet’s Nest — Meets Kit Carson and Becomes the Owner of a Pony and a Gun 1 7-3 1 Chapter 2. Beginning of an Adventurous Life — First Wild Turkey — First Buffalo — First Feast as an Hon- ored Guest of Indians — Dog Meat 32-47 Chapter 3. Hunting and Trapping in South Park, Where a Boy, Unaided, Kills and Scalps Two Indians — Meeting with Fremont, the ‘‘Path-finder”. . . .47-73 Chapter 4. A Winter in North Park— Running Fight with a Band of Utes for More than a Hundred Miles, Ending Hand to Hand — Victory 73-82 Chapter 5. On the Cache-la-Poudre — Visit from Gray Eagle, Chief of the Arapahoes. — A Bear-hunter is Hunted by the Bear — Phil, the Cannibal 83-96 Chapter 6. Two Boys Ride to the City of Mexico — Eleven Hundred Miles of Trial, Danger and Duty — A Gift Horse — The Wind River Mountains 96-104 Chapter 7, A Three Days’ Battle Between the to CONTENTS. Comanches and the Utes for the Possession of a “Hunter’s Paradise” — An Unseasonable Bath . 105-1 19 Chapter 8. Kit Carson Kills a Hudson Bay Company’s Trapper, Who Was Spoiling for a Fight — Social Good Time with a Train of Emigrants 1 19-129 Chapter 9. Marriage of Kit Carson — The Wedding Feast — Providing Buffalo Meat, in the Original Pack- age, for the Boarding-house at Bent’s Fort. . . 1 30-141 Chapter 10. Robber Gamblers of San Francisco — En- gaged by Col. Elliott as Indian Scout— Kills and Scalps Five Indians — Promoted to Chief Scout 141-158 Chapter ii. A Lively Battle with Pah-Utes — Pinned to Saddle with an Arrow — Some Very Good Indians — Stuttering Captain — Beckwith Opens His Pass. 1 59-175 Caapter 12 — Col. Elliott Kills His First Deer, and Se- cures a Fine Pair of Horns as Present for His Father — Beckwith’s Tavern — Society 475-185 Chapter 13 — Something Worse than Fighting Indians Dance at Col. Elliott’s— Conspicuous Suit of buckskin I Manage to Get Back to Beckwith’s 186-191 Chapter 14. Drilling the Detailed Scouts- -We Get Among the Utes — Four Scouts Have Not Reported Yet — Another Lively Fight — Beckwith Makes a Raise 191-210 CONTENTS. T I Chapter 15. A Hunt on Petaluma Creek — Elk Fever Breaks Out — The Expedition to Klamath Lake — A Lively Brush with Modoc Indians 21 1-222 Chapter 16. More Fish than I Had Ever Seen at One Time — We Surprise Some Indians, Who Also Surprise Us — The Camp at Klamath Lake — I Get Another Wound and a Lot of Horses 223-233 Chapter 17. Discovery of Indians with Stolen Horses — We Kill the Indians and Return the Property to Its Owners — Meeting of Miners — In Society Again. 233-245 Chapter 18. Trapping on the Gila — The Pimas Impart a Secret — Rescue of a White Girl— A Young Indian Agent — Visit to Taos — Uncle Kit Fails to Recognize Me 245-267 Chapter 19. A Warm Time in a Cold Country — A Band of Bannocks Chase Us Into a Storm that Saves Us — Kit Carson Slightly Wounded — Beckwith Makes a Century Run 267-283 Chapter 20. Carson Quits the Trail — Buffalo Robes for Ten Cents — 4 ‘Pike’s Peak or Bust” — The New City of Denver — “Busted” — How the News Started . 283-292 Chapter 21. A Fight With the Sioux — Hasa, the Mexican Boy, Killed — Mixed Up With Emigrants Some More — Four New Graves — Successful Trading With the Kiowas 292-308 12 CONTENTS. Chapter 22. A Trip to Fort Kearney — The General Endorses Us and We Pilot an Emigrant Train to Cal- ifornia — Woman Who Thought I Was “no Gentle- man” — A Camp Dance 308-332 Chapter 23. Bridger and West Give Christmas a High Old Welcome in Sacramento — California Gulch — Meeting with Buffalo Bill — Thirty-three Scalps with One Knife 3 3 3 — 3 5 1 Chapter 24. Face to Face with a Band of Apaches — The Death of Pinto — The Closest Call I Ever Had — A Night Escape — Back at Fort Douglas 351-360 Chahter 25. Three Thousand Dead Indians — A De- tective from Chicago — He Goes Home with an Old Mormon’s Youngest Wife and Gets into Trouble — The Flight 360-374 Chapter 26. — Through to Bannock — A Dance of Peace Fright of the Negroes — A Freight Train Snowed in and a Trip on Snow-shoes — Some Very Tough Road Agents 374-387 Chapter 27. Organization of a Vigilance Committe — End of the Notorious Slade — One Hundred Dollars for a “Crow-bait” Horse — Flour a Dollar aPound . 388-395 Chater 28. Twenty-two Thousand Dollars in Gold Dust — A Stage Robbery — Another Trip to California Meeting with Gen Crook — Chief of Scouts. . . 396-404 CONTENTS. I 13 Chapter 29. Find Some Murdered Emigrants — We Bury the Dead and Follow and Scalp the Indians — Gen. Crook Is Pleased with the Outcome — A Mojave Blanket 404-42 1 Chapter 30. A Wicked Little Battle — Capture of One Hundred and Eighty-two Horses — Discovery of Black Canyon — Fort Yuma and the Paymaster 422-434 Chapter 31. To California for Horses — My Beautiful Mare, Black Bess — We Get Sixty-six Scalps and Sev- enty-eight Horses — A Clean Sweep 435-444 Chapter 32. Some Men Who Were Anxious for a Fight and Got It — Gen. Crook at Black Canyon --.Bad Mis- take of a Good Man — The Victims.. 444-452 Chapter 33. The Massacre at Choke Cherry Canyon — Mike Maloney Gets Into a Muss — Rescue of White Girls — Mike Gets Even with the Apaches.. . .452-466 Chapter 34. Massacre of the Davis Family — A Hard Ride and Swift Retribution — A Pitiful Story — Burial of the Dead — I am Sick of the Business 466-475 Chapter 35, Black Bess Becomes Popular in San Francisco — A Failure as Rancher — Buying Horses in Oregon — The Klamath Marsh — Captain Jack the Modoc 475 5^3 Chapter 36. The Modoc War — Gen. Wheaton Is Held 14 CONTENTS. Off by the Indians — Gen. Canby Takes Command and Gets It Worse — Massacre of the Peace Commis- sion 484-503 Chapter 37 — The Cry of a Babe — Capture of a Bevy of Squaws — Treachery of Gen. Ross’ Men in Killing Prisoners — Capture of the Modoc Chief 5 ^ 3 - 5 1 5 Chapter 38. Story of the Captured Braves — Why Captain Jack Deserted — Loathsome Condition of the Indian Stronghold — End of the War — Some Com- ments 516-524 Chapter 39. An Interested Boy — Execution of the Mo- doc Leaders — Newspaper Messengers — A Very Sudden Deputy Sheriff — A Bad Man Wound Up 525-539 Chapter 40. In Society Some More — A Very Tight Place — -Ten Pairs of Yankee Ears — Black Bess Shakes Herself at the Right Time — Solemn Compact. 539-5 52 Chapter 41. We Locate a Small Band of Red Butch- ers and Send them to the Happy Hunting Grounds — Emigrants Mistake Us for Indians — George Jones Wounded 5 5 3-561 Chapter 42. “We Are All Surrounded” — A Bold Dash and a Bad Wound — Mrs. Davis Shows Her Gratitude — Most of My Work Now Done on Crutches. . . 562-567 Chapter 43. Poor Jones Makes His Last Fight — He CONTENTS. 15 Died Among a Lot of the Devils He Had Slain — End of Thirty-one Years of Hunting, Trapping and Scout- ing 567-572 Chapter 44. A Grizzley Hunts the Hunter — Shooting Seals in Alaskan Waters — I Become a Seattle Hotel Keeper and the Big Fire Closes Me Out — Some Rest — The Old Scout’s Lament 573—586 When she turned her back I threw the nest under her feet. Page 21 CHAPTER I. A BOY ESCAPES A TYRANT AND PAYS A DEBT WITH A hornet’s nest-* -Meets Kit Carson and becomes THE OWNER OF A PONY AND A GUN. The old saying that truth is stranger than fiction is emphasized in the life of every man whose career has been one of adventure and danger in the pursuit of a livlihood. Knowing nothing of the art of fiction and but little of any sort of literature; having been brought up in che severe school of nature, which is all truth, and having had as instructor in my calling a man who was singularly and famously truthful, truth has been my inheritance and in this book I bequeath it to my readers. My name is William F. Drannan, and I was born on the Atlantic ocean January 30, 1832, while my parents were emigrating from France to the United States. They settled in Tennessee, near Nashville, and lived upon a farm until I was about four years old. An epidemic of cholera prevailed in that region for some months during that time and my parents died of the dread disease, leaving myself and a litHe sister, seven months old, orphans. [17] i8 SHAMEFULLY ABUSED. I have never known what became of my sister, nor do I know” how I came to fall into the hands of a man named Drake, having been too young at that time to remember now the causes of happenings then. However, I re- mained with this man, Drake, on his plantation near The Hermitage, the home of Gen. Andrew Jackson, until I was fifteen. Drake was a bachelor who owned a large number of negro slaves, and I was brought up to the age mentioned among the negro children of the place, without school- ing, but cuffed and knocked about more like a worthless puppy than as if I were a human child. I never saw the inside of a school-house, nor was I taught at home any- thing of value. Drake never even undertook to teach me the difference between good and evil, and my only associates were the little negro boys that belonged to Drake, or the neighbors. The only person who offered to control or correct me was an old negro woman, who so far from being the revered and beloved “Black Mammy,” remembered with deep affection by many southern men and women, was simply a hideous black tyrant. She abused me shamefully, and I was punished by her not only for my own performances that displeased her, but for all the meanness done by the negro boys under her jurisdiction. Naturally these negro boys quickly learned that they could escape punishment by falsely imputing to me ill of their mischief and I was their scape-goat. Often Drake’s negro boys went over to General Jackson’s plantation to play with the negro boys over there and I frequently accompanied them. One day the NO EDUCATION. 19 old General asked me why I did not go to school. But I could not tell him. I did not know why. I have known since that I was not told to go and anyone knows that a boy just growing up loose, as I was, is not likely to go to school of his own accord. I do not propose to convey to the reader the idea that I was naturally better than other boys, on the contrary, I frequently deserved the rod when I did not get it, but more frequently received a cruel drubbing when I did not deserve it, that, too, at the hands of the old negro crone who was exceedingly violent as well as unjust. This, of course, cultivated in me a hatred against the vile creature which was little short of murderous. However, I stayed on and bore up under my troubles as there was nothing else to do, so far as I knew then, but “grin and bear it.” This until I was fifteen years old. At this time, however ignorant, illiterate, wild as I was, a faint idea of the need of education dawned upon me. I saw other white boys going to school; I saw the difference between them and myself that education was rapidly making and I realized that I was growing up as ignorant and uncultured as the slave boys who were my only attainable companions. Somehow I had heard of a great city called St. Louis, and little by little the determination grew upon me to reach that wonderful place in some way. I got a few odd jobs of work, now and then, from the neighbors and in a little while I had accumulated four dollars, which seemed a great deal of money to me, and I thought I would buy about half of St. Louis, if I could 20 ESCAPES A TYRANT. only get there. And yet I decided that it would be just as well to have a few more dollars and would not leave my present home, which, bad it was, was the only one I had, until I had acquired a little more money. But coming home from work one evening I found the old negress in an unusually bad humor, even for her. She gave me a cruel thrashing just to give vent to her feelings, and that decided me to leave at once, without waiting to further improve my financial condition. I was getting to be too big a boy to be beaten around by that old wretch, and having no ties of friendship, and no one being at all interested in me, I was determined to get away before my tormentor could get another chance at me. I would go to St. Louis, but I must get even with the old hag before starting. I did not wish to leave in debt to anyone in the neighborhood and so I cudgeled my brain to devise a means for settling old scores with my self-constituted governess. Toward evening I wandered into a small pasture, doing my best to think how I could best pay off the black termagant with safety to myself, when with great good luck I suddenly beheld a huge hornet’s nest, hang- ing in a bunch of shrubbery. My plan instantly and fully developed. Quickly I returned to the house and hastily gathered what little clothing I owned into a bundle, done up in my one handkerchief, an imitation of bandanna, of very loud pattern. This bundle I secreted in the barn and then hied me to the hornet’s nest. Approaching the swinging home of the hornets very softly, so as not to disturb the inmates, I stuffed the entrance to the PAYS THE DEBT, 21 hornet castle with sassafras leaves, and taking the great sphere in my arms I bore it to a back window of the kitchen where the black beldame was vigorously at work within and contentedly droning a negro hymn. Dark was coming on and a drizzly rain was falling. It was the spring of the year, the day had been warm and the kitchen window was open. I stole up to the open window. The woman’s back was toward me. I removed the plug of sassafras leaves and hurled the hor- net’s nest so that it landed under the hag’s skirts. I watched the proceedings for one short moment, and then, as it was getting late, I concluded I had better be off for St. Louis. So I went away from there at the best gait I could command. I could hear my arch-enemy screaming, and it was music to my ears that even thrills me yet, sometimes. It was a better supper than she would have given me. I saw the negroes running from the quarters, and else- where, toward the kitchen, and I must beg the reader to endeavor to imagine the scene in that culinary depart- ment, as I am unable to describe it, not having waited to see it out. But I slid for the barn, secured my bundle and started for the ancient city far away. All night, on foot and alone, I trudged the turnpike that ran through Nashville. I arrived in that city about daylight, tired and hungry, but was too timid to stop for something to eat, notwithstanding I had my four dollars safe in my pocket, and had not eaten since noon, the day before. I plodded along through the town and crossed the 22 MEETS A FRIEND. Cumberland river on a ferry-boat, and then pulled out in a northerly direction for about an hour, when I came to a farm-house. In the road in front of the house I met the proprietor who was going from his garden, opposite the house, to his breakfast. He waited until I came up, and as I was about to pass on, he said: “Hello! my boy. where are you going so early this morn- ing?” I told him I was on my way to St. Louis. “St. Lou- is?” he said. “I never heard of that place before. Where is it?” I told him I thought it was in Missouri, but was not certain. “Are you goiug all the way on foot, and alone?” CONTINUES THE JOURNEY. 21 I answered that I was, and that I had no other way to go. With that I started on. “Hold on,” he said. “If you are going to walk that long way you had better come in and have some break- fast. ” You may rest assured that I did not wait for a second invitation, for about that time I was as hungry as I had ever been in my life. While we were eating breakfast the farmer turned to his oldest daughter and said: “Martha, where is St. Louis?” She told him it was in Missouri, and one of the larg- est towns in the South or West. “Our geography tells lots about it,” she said. I thought this was about the best meal I had ever eaten in my life, and after it was over I offered to pay for it, but the kind-hearted old man refused to take any- thing, saying: “Keep your money, my boy. You may need it before you get back. And on your return, stop and stay with me all night, and tell us all about St. Louis.” After thanking them, I took my little bundle, bade them good-bye, and was on my journey again. I have always regretted that I did not learn this good man’s name, but I was in something of a hurry just then, for I feared that Mr. Drake might get on my trail and follow me and take me back, and I had no pressing inclination to meet old Hulda again. I plodded along for many days, now and then look- ing back for Mr. Drake, but not anxious to see him; rather the reverse. 24 ARRIVES IN ST. LOUIS. It is not necessary to lumber up this story with my trip to St. louis. 1 was about six weeks on the road, the greater part of the time in Kentucky, and I had no use for my money. I could stay at almost any farm- house all night, wherever I stopped, and have a good bed and be well fed, but no one would take pay for these ac- commodations. When I got to Owensboro, Ky. , I became acquainted by accident with the mate of a steamboat that was going to St. Louis and he allowed me to go on the boat and work my way. The first person that I met in St Louis, that I dared to speak with, was a boy somewhat younger than myself. I asked him his name, and in broken English he replied that his name was Henry Becket. Seeing that he was French, I began to talk to him in his own language, which was my mother tongue, and so we were quickly friends. I told him that my parents were both dead and that I had no home, and he being of a kind-hearted, sympathetic nature, invited me to go home with him, which invitation I immediately accepted. Henry Becket’s mother was a widow and they were very poor, but they were lovingly kind to me. I told Mrs. Becket of my troubles with Mr. Drake’s old negro woman; how much abuse I had suffered at her hands and the widow sympathized with me deeply. She also told me that I was welcome to stay with them until such time as I was able to get emyloyment.. So I re- mained with the Beckets three days, during all of which time I tried hard to get work, but without success. On the morning of the fourth day she asked me if I had tried any of the hotels for work 1 told her that 1 MEETS DISCOURAGEMENT, 25 had not, so she advised me to go to some of them in my rounds. »i&r, It had not occurred to me that a boy could find anything to do about a hotel, but I took Mrs. Becket’s ad- vice, and that morning called at the American hotel, which was the first o^~ 1 ' me to. ‘What kind of work do you think vou could do?” 26 MORE DETERMINED. Quite boldly, for a green boy, I approached the per- son whom I was told was the proprietor and asked him if he had any work for a boy, whereupon he looked at me in what seemed a most scornful way and said very tartly: “What kind of work do you think you could do?” I told him I could do most anything in the way of common labor. He gave me another half-scornful smile and said: “I think you had better go home to your parents and go to school. That’s the best place for you.” This was discouraging, but instead of explaining my position, I turned to go, and in spite of all that I could do the tears came to my eyes. Not that I cared so much for being refused employment, but for the manner in which the hotel man had spoken to me. I did not propose to give up at that, but started away, more than ever determined to find employment. I did not want to impose on the Beckets, notwithstanding that they still assured me of welcome, and moreover I wished to do something to help them, even more than myself. I had nearly reached the door when a man who had been reading a newspaper, but was now observing me, called out: “My boy! come here.” I went over to the corner where he was sitting and I was trying at the same time to dry away my tears. This man asked my name, which I gave him. He then asked where my parents lived, and I told him that they died when I was four years old. Other questions from him brought out the story of my I went over to the corner where he was sitting and I was trying at the same time to dry away my tears. Page 26 ! ' ■ f ' MEETS KIT CARSON. 37 boy-life; Drake, Gen. Jackson, the negro boys and the brutal negress; then my trip to St. Louis — but I omitted the hornet’s-nest incident. I also told this kindly stranger that I had started out to make a living for my- self and intended to succeed. Then he asked me where I was staying, and I told him of the Beckets. Seeing that this man was taking quite an interest in me, gave me courage to ask his name. He told me that his name was Kit Carson, and that by calling he was a hunter and trapper, and asked me how I would like to learn his trade. ‘ • I assured him that I was willing to do anything hon- orable for a living and that I thought I would very much like to be a hunter and trapper. He said he would take me with him and I was entirely delighted. Often I had wished to own a gun, but had never thought of shooting anything larger than a squirrel or rabbit. I was ready to start at once, and asked him when he would go. Smilingly he told me not to be in a hurry, and asked me where Mrs. Becket lived. I told him as nearly as I could, and again asked when he thought we would leave St. Louis. 1 was fearful that he would change his mind about taking me with him. I didn’t know him then so well as afterward. I came to learn that his slightest word was his bond. But visions of Mr. Drake, an old negro woman and a hornet’s nest, still haunted me and made me overanxious. I wanted to get as far out of their reach as possible and still remain on the earth. 28 SOME GOOD ADVICE. Mr. Carson laughed in a quiet and yet much amused way and said: '‘You must learn to not do anything until you are good and ready, and there are heaps of things to do be- fore we can start out. Now let’s go and see Mrs. Becket.” So I piloted him to the widow’s home, which, as near as I can remember, was about four blocks from the hotel. Mr. Carson being able to speak French first-rate, had a talk with Mrs. Becket concerning me. The story she told him, corresponding with that which I had told him, he concluded that I had given him nothing but truth, and then he aked Mrs. Becket what my bill was. She re- plied that she had just taken me in because I was a poor boy, until such time as I could find employment, and that her charges were nothing. He then asked her how long I had been with her, and being told that it was four days, he begged her to take five dollars, which she finally accepted. I took my little budget of clothes and tearfully bidding Mrs. Becket and Henry good-bye, started back to the hctel with my new guardian, and I was the happiest boy in the world, from that on, so long as I was a boy. I hardly realized that I was Will Drannan. MY FIRST BOOTS. 29 On the way back to the hotel Mr. Carson stopped with me at a store and ‘he bought me a new suit of clothes, a hat and a pair of boots, for I was barefooted and almost bareheaded. Thus dressed I could hardly realize that I was the Will Drannan of a few hours before. That was the first pair of boots I had ever owned. Perhaps, dear reader, you do not know what that means to a healthy boy of fifteen. It means more than has ever been written, or ever will be. I was now very ready to start out hunting, and on our way to the hotel I asked Mr. Carson if he did not think we could get away by morning, but he told me that to hunt I would probably need a gun, and we must wait until he could have one made for me, of proper size for a boy. The next day we went to a gun factory and Mr. Car- son gave orders concerning the weapon, after which we returned to the hotel. We remained in St. Louis about three weeks and every day seemed like an age to me. At our room in the hotel Mr. Carson would tell me stories about hunting and trapping, and notwithstanding the in- tense interest of the stories the days were longer, because I so much wished to be among the scenes he talked of, and my dreams at night were filled with all sorts of won- derful animals, my fancy’s creation from what Mr. Car- son talked about. I had never fired a gun in my life and I was unbearably impatient to get my hands on the one that was being made for me. During the wait at St. Louis Henry Becket was with 30 MAKE PREPARATION. me nearly all the time, and when we were not haunting the gun factory, we were, as much as possible, in Mr. Carson’s room at the hotel, listening to stories of adven- ture on the plains and among the mountains. I became, at once, very much attached to Mr. Carson ind I thought there was not another man in the United States equal to him — and there never has been, in his line. Besides, since the death of my mother he was the only one who had taken the slightest interest in me, or treated me like a human being, barring, of course, the Beckets and those persons who had helped me on my long walk from Nashville to St. Louis. Finally Mr. Carson — whom I had now learned to ad- dress as Uncle Kit — said to me, one morning, that as my gun was about completed we would make preparations to start West. So we went out to a farm, about two miles from St. Louis, to get the horses from where Uncle Kit had left them to be cared for during the winter. We went on foot, taking a rope, or riatta, as it is called by frontiersmen, and on the way to the farm I could think or talk of nothing but my new rifle, and the buffalo, deer, antelope and other game that I would kill when I reached the plains. Uncle Kit remarked that he had forgotten to get me a saddle, but that we would not have to wait to get one made, as there were plenty of saddles that would fit me already made, and that he would buy me one when he got back to town. When we reached the farm where the horses were, Uncle Kit pointed out a little bay pony that had both hip ears cropped off at the tips, and he said: THE PACK-TRAIN. 3 * ‘‘Now Willie, there is your pony. Catch him and climb on,’ at the same time handing me the riatta. The pony being gentle I caught and mount- ed him at once, and by the time we had got back to town money could not have bought that ‘little c r o p-eared horse from me. As will be seen, later on, I kept that pony and he was a faithful friend and servant until his tragic death, years afterward. In two days we had a pack-train of twenty horses rigged for the trip. The cargo was mostly tobacco, blankets and beads, which Carson was taking out to trade to the Indians for robes and furs. Of course all this was novel to me as I had never seen a pack-saddle or anything associated with one A man named Hughes, of whom you will see much in this narrative, accompanied and assisted Uncle Kit on this trip, as he had done the season before, for besides his experience as a packer, he was a good trapper, and Uncle Kit employed him 32 BIOS GOOD-BYE. CHAPTER II. Beginning of an adventurous life. — First will turkey. — First buffalo. — First feast as an HONORED GUEST OF INDIANS. — DOG MEAT. It was on the morning of May 3. 1847, that we rounded up the horses and Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes began packing them. It being the first trip of the season some of the pack- ponies were a little frisky and would try to lie down when the packs were put on them. So it became my business to look after them and keep them on their feet until all were packed. Everything being in readiness, I shook hands, good- bye, with my much-esteemed friend, Henrv Becket, who had been helping me with the pack-horses, and who also coveted my crop-eared pony, very naturally for a boy. Then we were off for a country unknown to me, except for what Uncle Kit had told me of it. My happiness seemed to increase, if that were possi- ble. I was unspeakably glad to get away from St. Louis before Mr. Drake had learned of my whereabouts, and up to the time of this writing I have never been back to St. Louis, or Tennessee, nor have I heard anything of Mr. Drake or my ancient enemy, the angel of Erebus. From St. Louis we struck out westward, heading for Ft. Scott, which place is now a thriving little city in CAMPING OUT. 33 southeastern Kansas, but then the extreme out-edge of settlement. The first day out we traveled until about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, when we came to a fine camping place with abundance of grass, wood and water. Uncle Kit, thinking we had traveled far enough for the first day, said: “I reckon the lad is gittin’ tired, Hughes, ’s well as the horses, an’ I think we’d better pull up for the day.” I was glad to hear this, for I had done more riding- chat day than in any one day in my life, before. Uncle Kit told me it would be my job, on the trip, as soon as my horse was unsaddled, to gather wood and start a fire, while he and Mr. Hughes unpacked the ani- mals. So I unsaddled my horse, and by the time they had the horses unpacked I had a good fire going and plenty of water at hand for all purposes. Mr. Hughes, meantime, got out the coffee-pot and frying-pan, and soon we had a meal that I greatly enjoyed and which was the first one for me by a camp-fire. After we had eaten, and smoked and lounged for a while, Uncle Kit asked me if I did not wish to try my rifle. Of course I did. So taking a piece of wood and sharpening one end that it might be driven into the ground, he took a piece of charcoal and made on the flat side of the wood a mark for me to shoot at. ‘‘Now Willie,” said Uncle Kit, “if you ever expect to be a good hunter you must learn to be a good shot, and you can’t begin practicin’ too soon.” 34 TRIES HIS GUN. I had never fired a gun, but I had made up my mind to be a mighty hunter and so started in for shooting prac- tice with much zeal. Uncle Kit gave me few instruc- tions about how to hold the gun, and I raised the rifle to my face and fired the first shot of my life. I do not know how close my bullet came to that mark, nor how far it missed, for the wood was un- touched. But I tried it again and with much better success, for this time I struck the stick about eight inches below the mark. This was great encourage- ment and from that on I could scarcely take time to eat meals in camp, in my anxi- ety to practice, and I was further encouraged b y Uncle Kit’s approval of my desire to practice. One evening I overheard Uncle Kit say to Mr. Huges, “That boy is going to make a dead shot after- while.” This gave me great faith in my future as a hunter Kit Carson. TURKEY HUNTING. 35 , id Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes seemed to take great de- } £ht in teaching me all the tricks of rifle marksmanship. After we had traveled about two days we came to a belt of country where there were wild turkeys in great numbers, and on the morning of the third day out, Uncle Kit called me early, saying: “Come Willie, jump up now, an’ le’s go an’ see if we can’t git a wild turkey for breakfast.” He had heard the turkeys that morning and knew which direction to go to find them. I rolled out and was quickly dressed and ready. When near the turkey haunt Uncle Kit took a quill from his pocket and by a peculiar noise on the quill called the turkeys up near to him, then took aim at one, fired and killed it. “Now Willie,” he said, “do you think you can do that to-morrow morning?” I told him that I thought if I could get close enough, and the turkeys would stand right still, I believed I could fetch one. And I desired to know if it was certain that there would be turkeys where we were to camp that night. “Oh, yes;” said he, “thar’ll be plenty of ’em for some days yit.” Early the next morning Uncle Kit called me as usual, and said, “Git up now, an’ see what you can do for a turkey breakfast.” Instantly I was on my feet, Uncle Kit showed me the direction to go, loaned me his turkey-call quill, which, by the way, he had been teaching me how to use, as we rode the day before. 36 KILLS A TURKEY. I shouldered my rifle and had not gone far when 1 heard the turkeys, up the river. Then I took the quill and started my turkey tune. Directly a big old gobbler came strutting towards me and I called him up as near to me as he would come, for I wanted to make sure of him. Uncle Kit had told me about the “buck-ague” and I knew I had it when I tried to draw a bead on that big gobbler. I had never shot at a living thing, and when I leveled my rifle it was impossible to control my nerves. Mr. Gobbler tumbled over, dead. OI* three times I tried to hold the bead on him, but could not. Now I wouldn’t have missed killing him for Lone Wolf. Kiowa Chief BEYOND CIVILIZATION. 37 anything, in reason, for I feared that Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes would laugh at me. At last, however, the sights of my gun steadied long enough for me to pull the trigger, and to my great de- light — and I may as well admit, surprise — Mr. Gobbler tumbled over dead when I fired, and he was so heavy as to be a good load for me to carry to camp. Now I was filled with confidence in myself, and be- came eager for a shot at bigger game; antelope, deer or buffalo. In a few days we passed Ft. Scott and then we were entirely beyond the bounds of civilization. From that on, until we reached our destination, the only living things we saw were jack-rabbits, prairie-dogs, antelope, deer, buffalo, sage-hens and Indians, barring, of course, insects, reptiles and the like, and the little owls that live with the prairie-dogs and sit upon the mounds of the dog villages, eyeing affairs with seeming dignity and wisdom. The owls seem to turn their heads while watching you, their bodies remaining stationary, until, it has been said, you may wring their heads off by walking around them a few times. -I would not have my young friends believe, however, that this is true. It is only a very old joke of the plains. The first herd of buffalo we saw was along a stream known as Cow Creek and which is a tributary to the Ark- ansas river. We could see the herd feeding along the hills in the distance. Here was good camping ground and it was time tc halt for the night. So as soon as we had decided on the 38 SHOOTING BUFFALO. spot to pitch camp, Uncle Kit directed me to go and kill a buffalo, so that we might have fresh meat for supper. That suited me, exactly, for I was eager to get a shot at such big game. Uncle Kit told me to follow up the ravine until oppo- site the herd and then climb the hill, but to be careful and not let the buffalo see me. I followed his instructions to the dot, for I had come to believe that what Kit Carson said was law and gospel, and what he didn’t know would not fill a book as large as Ayer’s Almanac. I was right, too, so far as plainscraft was concerned. Uncle Kit had also directed me to select a small buf- I drew a bead on her and fired. falo to shoot at, and to surely kill it, for we were mt of meat. It so happened that when I got to the top of the hill and in sight of the herd again the first animal that seemed to present an advantageous shot was a two-year-old heifer. I dropped flat on the ground and crawled toward her, like a snake. Once she raised her head, but the wind Kiowa, Lone Wolfs Camp. • OFF AGAIN. 39 being in my favor, she did not discern me, but put her head down and went on feeding. I succeeded in crawl- ing quite close enough to her, drew a bead on her and fired. At the crack of the rifle she came to the ground, “as dead as a door-nail,” much to the surprise of Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes, who were watching me from a dis- tance. » When the animal fell, I threw my hat in the air and gave a yell that would have done credit to an Apache warrior. Uncle Kit and I dressed the buffalo and carried the meat into camp while Mr. Hughes gathered wood for the night-fires. I could scarcely sleep that night for thinking of my buffalo, and could I have seen Henry Becket that night I would almost have stunned him with my stories of frontier life. The novice is ever enthusiastic. The following morning we woke up early, and off, still heading up the Arkansas river for Bent’s Fort, and from here on the buffalo were numerous, and we had that sort of fresh meat until we got good and tired of it. The second day out from Cow Creek, in the after- noon, we saw about twenty Indians coming towards us. At the word, “Indians,” I could feel my hair raise on end, and many an Indian has tried to raise it since. This was my first sight of the red man. He looked to me to be more of a black man. Uncle Kit asked Mr. Hughes what Indians he thought they were. The reply was that he thought them to be 40 MEETING INDIANS. Kiowas, and on coming up to them the surmise proved to be correct. They were Black Buffalo, the chief of the Kiowas, and his daughter, accompanied by twenty warriors. Black Buffalo, and indeed all the Kiowa tribe, were well acquainted with Uncle Kit and had great respect for him. So a general hand-shaking and pow-wow followed. Carson spoke their language as well as they could, and consequently had no difficulty conversing with them. In those days very few Indians knew a word of Eng- lish, consequently all conversation with them had to be carried on in the several tribal languages or dialects, or in the jargon. This latter was a short language composed of Indian, French and English words, and was called ‘‘Chinook.” It originated with the fur traders of Astoria, Ore., and its growth was assisted by missionaries, until it became the means of communication between the whites and the Indians of the coast and interior of the vast Northwest, and even between Indians whose dialects were unknown to each other. In short it was a sort of Indian “Volapuk, ” and was very easily mastered. There has been a dictionary of it printed, and I have known a bright man to acquire the vocabulary in two or three days. Black Buffalo and his little band shortly turned about and rode back to their village, which was only two miles away. But they first invited us to visit them, which we did, as not to have done so would have been a violent breach of plains etiquette, that might cause a disruption :f friendship. While we were eating supper Uncle Kit asked me if I knew what kind of meat I was eatiug. Page 4* EATING DOG MEAT. 41 In the Indian village, after our horses had beeu un- packed and turned out to graze, Uncle Kit and Black Buffalo strolled about among the lodges or wick-i-ups, of which there were something like fifteen hundred. I fol- lowed very closely for I was mortally afraid to get fifteen feet away from Uncle Kit, in that sort of company. Black Buffalo did us the honor, that evening, to take us to his own private wick-i-up for supper. It was a cus- tom with this, and many other tribes of Indians, that conveyed great distinction to visitors, to kill and cook for them a nice fat dog. However, I was not then aware that I was so distinguished a guest, as indeed neither I nor Mr. Hughes would have been had we not been in the company of Kit Carson. With him we shone by re- flected greatness. While we were out on our walk about the village, Black Buffalo’s cook was preparing this distinguishing feast for us. I had kept unusually quiet all the time we were among the Indians, not ev n asking one question, which was very remarkable in me. For I presume that on the journey I had asked more questions to the lineal mile than any boy ever had before. But I ate the dog in silence and liked it. Of course I had no idea what the meat was. So, Uncle Kit observ- ing the gusto with which I was devouring dog, asked me if I knew what the meat was. I told him that I did not, but supposed it to be antelope, or buffalo. He informed me that it was neither, but good, healthy dog. I thought he was joking, and simply replied that it 42 HONORED GUEST. was mighty good meat, even if it was dog, and gave the matter no further reflection, at the time. The next day, when Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes as- sured me that it was really dog meat, we had eaten the night before, I felt very much like throwing up every- thing I had eaten at the village, but it was too late then. After supper, that night in the Indian village, we had what was called a ‘ ‘p eace sm °ke. ” The, Chief selected about a dozen of his braves, and all being seated in a circle, two of our party on one side of the Chief, and Uncle Kit at his right, a pipe was lit and the Chief took one whiff, the smoke of which he blew up into the air. He then took another whiff, and turning to his chief guest, handed him the pipe, who blew a whiff into the air and the second one into the face of the host. This performance having been gone through with for each guest, the Chief then handed the pipe to the first Indian on his right, and thus it went around the circle, each Indian blowing a whiff into the air. It was considered a great breach of etiquette to speak, or even smile, during this ceremony. This Indian village was situated at Pawnee Rock, on the Arkansas river, in a beautiful valley, in what is now the southwest corner of Benton Co., Kan. The wick-i- ups were made of poles set on ends, gathered together at the top, and covered with buffalo skins from which the the hair had been removed. The Kiowas were, at that time, the most numerous tribe of Indians in the United States. Early the next morning after our dog-feast and peace- smoke, our party was up and off, , and I was particularly COMANCHE VILLAGE. 43 glad to get away, feeling that I would rather camp out and feed on buffalo, antelope, jack-rabbits and wild tur- key than dwell in the lodges of Kiowas and be 4 ‘hon- ored” with banquets of the nicest dogs in all that region. We took the Santa Fe trail and the buffalo were so numerous along the way that we had to take some pains to avoid them, as when they were traveling or on a stam- pede, nothing could turn or stop them and we would be in danger of being ground to atoms beneath their thou- sands of hoofs. In two days more of travel we reached another In- dian village, on another beautiful plain, in what is now Pawnee Co., Kan. Here the country was so level that one could see for miles in any direction, and the sun ris* ing or setting, seemed to come up or go down, as a great golden disk, out of or into the earth. We could see many bands of wild horses feeding on the luxuriant grasses, and little did I think, then, that I would live to see the day when that broad and unfenced plain would be converted into homes for hundreds of the pale-faced race. We were met on the outskirts of the village by White Horse, Chief of the Comanches, who, being an intimate friend of Uncle Kit, shook hands with us and conducted us to his own wick-i-up. There we unpacked the animals and piled up our goods, and White Horse detailed an In- dian to guard the packs day and night. After our horses had been picketed out to grass, the Chief took us into his lodge to dine with him, and here again we had boiled dog and the peace smoke. White Horse insisted upon our being his guests until 44 ESCORTED BY CHIEF. morning, it being about noon when we arrived, and as our horses were much jaded we decided to give them the advantage of such a rest. The Comanche Chief was most exceedingly hospi- table, in his way, and would not allow us to eat of our own provisions, but insisted upon our eating with him, and 4 ‘trotted” out the best “grub” he had. After breakfast the next morning our horses were brought in by the Indians, who also helped us to pack, and we struck the trail again, accompanied by White Horse and his daughter, who traveled with us all that day and camped with us at night. That evening Uncle Kit killed a fine buffalo calf, and I thought it the best meat I had ever eaten — even better than dog. The following morning the Chief and his daughter re- turned to the village, and we proceeded on our journey. That day, riding along on my crop-eared pony, about fifty yards behind my companions, I chanced to look be- hind me and I saw what I thought to be a man, walking on a hill towards us, and he appeared to be at least twenty feet high. As he got further down the hill he appeared to grow shorter, until, I thought, he went down -v ravine and out of sight. I put spurs to Croppy and galloped up to Uncle Kit, and told him I had seen the tallest man on earth, de- claring that the man was at least twenty feet high. “An’ you saw a man that high?” said Uncle Kite “Indeed I did,” I replied. “Sure you saw him?” he asked. .»ciis. Tex.. 1873. Lone Wolf’s Son. Killed SEES A MIRAGE. 45 “Yes, sir; .and if you will watch you will see him come up out of the ravine, directly. ” Uncle Kit, laughing, said: “It was not a man you saw, my boy, but a mirage,” and he explained to me the phenomena, which I became familiar with in the years that followed. Sometimes the mirages present to the vision what ap- pear to be men, at other times bodies of water sur- rounded by trees, and often houses and whole towns. They appear before you on the dryest plains and then disappear as if the earth opened and swallowed them. Early in June we reached Bent’s Fort and met there Col. Bent and his son, Mr. Roubidoux and his son, and a man named James Bridger, of whom you will see a great deal, later on in this narrative. These men were all traders, buying furs and buffalo robes from Indians, white hunters and trappers. We remained at Bent’s Fort six weeks, and often during that time some one of the many hunters, trappers and traders, that made this place their headquarters, would ask Uncle Kit what he was going to do with that boy — meaning me. To all of which Carson would reply: “I’m goin’ to make a hunter and trapper of him.” During the six weeks at the fort I was out nearly every day with some of the men, and to me they gave the name of “Young Kit.” By the time we were ready to leave Bent’s Fort, Young Kit became quite a rider, and Uncle Kit had been training me in the dexterous use of the rifle, shooting from my knee, lying on my back, resting the gun on my 46 KIT CARSON'S HOME. toes, lying flat on my belly, resting the gun on my hat, and in various other positions. Having disposed of all our blankets, beads and all of the tobacco, except what was reserved for home con- sumption, we left Bent’s Fort, crossed the Arkansas river and followed up Apishapa creek three days, when we came to the Rocky Mountains, among which we were during four days, passing Trinkara Peak then turning south toward a little Mexican village called Taos, where Uncle Kit made his home, he having a house of his own in that village. On the morning after our arrival at Taos, Uncle Kit said to me at breakfast: “Willie, there are a lot of Mexican boys here who would like to play with you.” Some of them were standing near in a group, gazing 'at me in much wonderment. “But,” continued Uncle Kit, “you will have to learn to speak their language in order to have much fun. Go with them if you wish, and tell me to-night how many words you have learned.” Then he spoke to the group of boys in their own tongue and told them I wished to play with them but couldn’t speak their language, and wanted to learn. We had a jolly time that day in many boyish games that I had never seen, and when I came home Uncle Kit asked me how many words I had learned. “Three,” I replied. “Splendid!” he exclaimed. “ ’Twont be long fo’ you are a fus’-class Mexican.” One evening, after we had been in Taos about two Cliff Dwellings, Canon de Chelly, Arizona. THE FANDANGO. 47 weeks, Uncle Kit told me to put on my best suit and he would take me to a fandango. I was not sure what a fandango was but was willing to experience one, just the same, and, togged out in our best, we went to the fan- dango, which was simply a Mexican dance. Sort of a public ball. I looked on that night with much interest, but de- clined to participate further than that. I learned better in a little while, and the fandango, with the tinkle of guitars and mandolins, the clink of the cavalleros’ spurs, and the laugh and beauty of the Mexican senoritas, be- came a great pleasure to me. Thus began our life at the little Mexican town of Taos, the home of that great hero of the West, Kit Carbon CHAPTER III. Hunting and trapping in South Park, where a BOY, UNAIDED, KILLS AND SCALPS TWO INDIANS. Meeting with Fremont, the ‘ ‘Path-finder/ ’ One evening in October as I was getting ready to re- tire for the night, Uncle Kit said to me: “Now Willie, to-morrow you must put in the day 48 MOULDING BULLETS, moulding bullets, for we must begin making preparations to go trapping. ” This was pleasant news to me, for I had laid around so long with nothing to do but skylark with those Mexi- can boys, that life was getting to be monotonous. The reader will understand that in those early days we had only muzzle-loading guns, and for every one of those we had to have a pair of bullet-moulds the size of the rifle, and before starting out on an expedition it was necessary to mould enough bullets to last several weeks, if not the entire trip, and when you realize that almost any time we were liable to get into a ‘ ‘scrap” with the Indians, you can understand that it required a great number of these little leaden missiles to accommodate the red brethren, as well as to meet other uses. That evening after I had gone to bed, Mr Hughes said: 4 ‘Kit, what are you going to do with that buy?” 4 ‘What boy?” asked Uncle Kit, as if he w.^re aston- ished. “Why, Willie. What are you going to dc with him while we are away trapping?” “Why, take him along to help us, of course.” “Thunderation!” exclaimed Hughes; “he will only be a bother to us in the mountains.” I had been with Kit Carson three months, and this was the first time I had seen him, apparently, out of humor. But at Hughes’ last remark, he said in a decid- edly angry tone: “Jim Hughes, I want you to understand that wher ever I go that boy can go, too. if he likes.” TRAPPING EXPEDITION 49 Hughes seeing that Carson did not like what he had said about “that boy,” turned the matter off by saying that he had only made the remark to tease the boy. Next morning Uncle Kit started a Mexican lad out to round up the horses, and the next two days were spent in fixing up our pack-saddles preparatory for the trip. Our horses were as fat as seals, as there was no end to the range for them in this part of the country. All being in readiness we pulled out from Taos, four of us, Uncle Kit, Mr. Hughes, myself and a Mexican boy named Juan. The latter went along to bring our horses back home. We crossed back over that spur of the Rocky Moun- tains that we had came in through, and struck the Ark- ansas river near where Pueblo, Colo., now stands, and from here we pnlled for the headwaters of that river, carefully examining every stream we came to for bea- ver sign. We saw abundance of game on the trip, such as antelope, deer and buffalo. When we had traveled up the river about two days, Uncle Kit thought it was not best to take the horses any further as the country was now too rough for them, so we spent the next two days caching our cargo. As some may not know what a cache is, I will ex- plain. Cache is French for “hide.” A hole is dug in the ground and the things to be hidden are put in there and covered with brush, then with dirt, then more brush and more dirt, and the whole is covered with turf, to make the surface look as natural as possible, 50 IN THE MOUNTAINS. so that it is not likely to be discovered by Indians at a distance. We having about a thousand pounds of stores to cache, it was no small job. On the morning of the third day in this camp, we all started out to kill some game for Juan to take back home. Mr. Hughes started out in one direction and Uncle Kit and I in the opposite. We had gone but a short distance, when, looking across a canyon, I saw a herd of some kind of animals and asked Uncle Kit what they were. He told me they were bison, and complimented me on having such good eyes. Bison, by the way, is the distinctive name in that region for mountain buffalo, all buffalo belonging to the bison family. We then started on a round-about way to try and get in gunshot of the herd, in which we were successful. When we had got in gunshot of them and he had pointed out the one for me to shoot at, he said: “Now take a rest on that big rock, and when I count three, pull the trigger, and be sure that you break its neck.” The guns went off so near together that I turned and asked Uncle Kit why he didn’t shoot, too, for I did not think that he had fired; but as soon as the smoke from our guns had cleared away, I saw two bison kicking their last. After dressing the animals we returned to camp and learned that Mr. Hughes had killed two deer, which, with the two bisons, were enough to load the pack-horses. We were now in the extreme south end of South CARRYING A PACK. 5 1 Park, which was mostly a prairie country, except along the streams, and more or less pine trees were scattered fcere and there along the hillsides. Next morning we loaded the pack-horses with the game and Juan started back home, alone, with the horses. After we had seen him off, we rolled up our blankets and taking enough provisions to last several days, we “packed up our packs” and pulled out up the Arkansas again. This, to me, was like breaking a colt to the saddle, only I didn’t buck. Notwithstanding I had a light pack, for I was a light subject, it was hard work for me. Mr. Hughes had been out the year before, and being a grown man, it did not worry him as it did me. However, we traveled very slowly, looking well all the time for beaver sign. In the afternoon of the second day we came to where there was plenty of beaver sign. In fact the trees they had gnawed down were so thick that we could not travel ‘dong the river, but had to take to the hillsides. We camped that night at the mouth of a little stream r hat empties into the Arkansas, and the following morn- ing, after looking over the trapping ground, the two men selected a place to build our winter quarters, and we went to work. They worked at the cabin while I killed the game for our meat and did the cooking, my outfit being a frying-pan, a coffee-pot and a tin cup for each of us. They were about two weeks getting our cabin, or dug- out, completed. It was made by first digging out a place in the hillside, about twelve feet square, and building up U. ILL UB. 5 2 WINTER QUARTERS. the front with logs, then brush and pine boughs, and then the whole with dirt. 'I he door was made oi hewed logs, fastened together with crossed pieces by means of wooden pins, and it was hung on heavy wooden hinges. Our winter quarters being thus completed, Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes set o,ut one morning for the cache, in- tending to return that same evening. Before starting they told me to go out some time during the day and kill a small deer, that I would be able to carry to camp, and have a good lot of it cooked for supper, as they would be very hungry when they returned that night. They started sometime before daylight, and I stayed around the cabin, clear- i n g things up and cut- t i ng wood, until about ten o’clock, then cleaned up my rifle and started out to kill the deer. It was an easy matter to find one, for About the right thing. they were as thick in that country as sheep on a mutton farm. But, boy-like, i. The other two dropped to their knees and looked all around. Page 53 KILLS TWO INDIANS. 53 wandered off up the canyon about two miles before I found a deer that just suited me, and I wanted to see the country, anyway. At last I found a little deer that I thought about the right thing and I killed and dressed it — or rather un- dressed it — threw it on my shoulder and pulled for camp. Instead of going the way I had come, I climbed out on the ridge to avoid the down timber, that was so thick in the creek bottom, When I was near the top of the ridge, I looked off a short distance and saw three In- dians, on foot, going down the ridge in the direction of our dug-out. I had often heard Uncle Kit tell how the Indians robbed the camps of trappers and that they invariably burned the cabins. As soon as I got sight of the Indians, I dropped back over the ^idge, for, luckily, they had not got sight of me. In a few seconds I did some powerful thinking, and I came to the conclusion that it would never do to let them find our dug-out, for while it would hardly burn, they might carry off our bedding, or destroy it. So I crawled •up to a log, took good aim at the leader and fired, strik- ing him just under the arm, bringing him down. The other two dropped to their knees, and looked all around, and I suppose the only thing that saved me was the wind was coming from them to me and blew the smoke from my gun down the canyon, so that they did not see where the shot came from. I heard Uncle Kit tell of lying on his back and load- ing his rifle, when in a close place, so I did likewise and crawled up to my log again. The remaining two In- 54 TAKES THEIR SCALPS. dians, having looked all around and seeing no one, had got on their feet again, and were standing with bow and arrow in hand, each having a quiver full of arrows on his back, and if they had got sight of me that would have been the last of Young Kit. But I took aim at one of them and fired, with the same result as before. As my second Indian fell, the third one started back up the the ridge, in the direction from which they had come, and if I ever saw an Indian do tall sprinting, that one did. I watched him until he was out of sight, and then loaded my gun, shouldered my deer and went to where the two Indians were lying. They were both as dead as dried herring. I had never seen an Indian scalped, but had often heard how it was done, so I pulled my hunting-knife and took their top-nots, and again started for the dug-out, a great hunter and Indian fighter, in my own estimation. I hung the scalps up inside the dug-out, directly in front of the door, so that Uncle Kit and Mr. Hughes would see them the first thing on entering the cabin. Then I set about getting supper, all the while thinking what a mighty deed I had done in saving our cabin, which was probably true. The two men did not return until after dark and they were very tired and hungry, having walked forty miles that day, carrying on the return trip a hundred pounds each. That is a heavy load for a man to carry twenty miles, but they did it, and it was no uncommon thing for the hardy frontiersmen of that day to perfc bl' The tum-tum. DESPERATE FIGHTING. tion for a time. About sunset both tribes withdrew, ap- parently by mutual agreement, each side returning to camp for supper. I did not learn how many Comanches were killed that day, but there were some twenty odd wounded, and some of them fatally. The night was made hideous by the shrieks and cries of the squaws and children of the war- riors who had been killed or wounded during the day. Neither tribe put out picket guards during the night. The next morning about sunrise the war-chiefs were out beating on the tum-tums. The warriors did not hasten around so briskly as the morning before, however, they were soon at the spot and ready for battle. After going through the same manoeuvres as the morning before, the war-woops rang out loud and shrill, and again the arrows began to fly. The contestants fought hard all day again, without ceasing. About the middle of the afternoon the Comanches made a desperate charge on the Utes, crossing the creek and fighting them at close quarters. Among the Comanches was one In- dian in particular that I was acquainted with, that I saw engaged in a number of hand-to-hand fights, and always came out victorious, but he got badly used up during the day. This Indian went by the name of White Bird, and he was beyond doubt the worst disfigured piece of hu- manity I ever saw, but he fought on, and he seemed to say by his actions: “I am slightly disfigured, but still in the ring.” About sundown the two armies again withdrew for refreshments and repairs. That evening after eating my supper I went over to n6 FIGHTING CAUTIOUSLY. White Bird’s wick-i-up and found him sitting there, blood)/ from head to foot, with a large cut on one cheek, another on one side of the head, and numerous other wounds, making him the most horrible specimen of hu- manity that I had ever seen living. He had not even washed the blood from his face or hands, but was sitting there telling his squaw and children how many Utes he had killed during the day, apparently as cool and uncon- cerned as though nothing had happened him. But he was not able for duty the next day, and died about ten o’clock. We never learned where the Indians buried their dead, for they took them away during the night and dis- posed of them in some manner. There were more Indians killed and wounded the second day than the first, and that night the Comanches had a big war-dance over the scalps they had taken. The morning of the third day each tribe marched down at about the usual hour and resumed their positions in the line of battle, and that morning they fought more cautiously than before, until about ten o’clock, when the Utes made their first big charge on the Comanches, and they had a hard fight, which resulted in the death of many Indians, and the Utes retreated with considerably the worst of it. In this charge we counted over forty Utes that were killed and scalped. After the Comanches had driven the Utes back, Johnnie West and I went down within about fifty yards and sat there until the war was ended. About the mid- dle of the afternoon of the third day, the old war-chief Horse Backs’ Son, Comanche Comanche victory. i 17 of the Comanches rushed up and commenced to shout, “Co-chah! Co-chah!” which meant to go ahead, or, in other words, to charge. Johnnie West, who understood the language, turned to me and said: ‘‘The Comanches are going to make another charge.” Sure enough, they did; crossing the creek and made a desperate rush for the Utes, but the Utes could not stand the pressure and retreated, the Comanches fol- lowing them to the top of the hill where the Utes were camped, it being understood between the two chiefs that, when either army or tribe was driven back to the top of the hill, they had lost the battle. The Comanches now returned, singing and shouting at the top of their voices, and in a short time a little squad of Comanches came in with about one hundred head of Ute horses. We never learned whether they had captured the horses or whether they had won them in the battle. That night the Comanches had another big war-dance, and while the unfortunate squaws and children were weeping over the loss of their fathers and husbands, the victorious warriors were dancing, singing and shouting, and while dancing, each warrior would try to show as near as he could the manner in which he killed and scalped his enemy, and of all the silly manoeuvers a white man ever witnessed, it was there at that war-dance. The next morning there was not a Ute to be seen, all having left during the night. The day following, the Comanches broke camp and started back for their main village on the Arkansas river. We broke camp and started out ahead of them, and in 1 1 8 EMPLOYED BY COL. BENT four days reached Bent’s Fort, where Uncle Kit sold his furs to Colonel Bent and Mr. Roubidoux. These two kept a boarding-house at the Fort, and this being the general loafing place during the summer season for most of the trappers in this part of the coun- try, they also kept whiskey, and after the trappers had sold their furs, many of them would stop around the Fort and pay board for about three or four months dur- ing each summer, and by the time they were ready to start trapping again, Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux would have all of their money back for grub and whiskey, and, in fact, many of them would be in debt to them. There being so much stock around the Fort the game was driven back so far that it became necessary to go considerable distance to get any. Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux proposed to hire Johnnie West and I to hunt for them for two months, saying that they had not had fresh meat half of the time the past spring. We agreed to work for them for two months, they being willing to pay us fifty dollars each per month, with the understand- ing that in case we kept them in meat all summer they would pay us extra wages. They now having some thirty odd boarders, it took a great deal of meat, and having to go some distance for game we had to pack it on pack- horses. We hunted for them two months, and at the end of that time we had kept them in meat and had enough ahead to last them one month longer. It now being time to start out to look for trapping ground for the coming winter, we went to Col. Bent for a settlement, and after he had counted out our hundred dollars each he asked us how much extra wages we TO FURNISH MEAT. 119 thought we should have. I told him I was perfectly willing to leave it to Mr. Roubidoux, and Johnnie being willing to do that also, Mr. Roubidoux told the Colonel to pay us twenty dollars each, extra, all of which was agreeable to us, and they engaged us to hunt for them the next summer at seventy-live dollars per month. We returned now to Taos to prepare for the winter’s tapping. CHAPTER VIII. Kit Carson kills a Hudson Bay Company’s trapper, WHO WAS SPOILING FOR A FIGHT. SOCIAL GOOD TIME WITH A TRAIN OF EMIGRANTS. Arriving at Taos I learned that Uncle Kit had his trapping company already organized for the coming win- ter, consisting of himself, Jim Bridger, Jim Beckwith, Jake Harrington, Johnnie West and myself, six in all. Early in the fall of 1852 we pulled out for the head of Green river, which was a long and tedious journey, being more than eight hundred miles from Taos and over a rough country. We took the trail along the foot of the Rocky Mountains, running north until after crossing North Platte. Here we struck across the Bad Lands, 120 at Hell’s Hole. and I thought that if there ever was a place rightly named, it surely was this section of country. We were three days crossing this God-forsaken country; and we would often travel a half day without seeing a living thing of any description. From there we struck across the main divide of the Rocky Mountains, and were three days crossing over to the headwaters of Green river, and were somewhat disappointed when we learned that Green river had been trapped over by the Hudson Bay Company the year before. However, we were there, and it was too late to look up another trapping-ground, so we occupied some of the old cabins that had been erected by the Hudson Bay Company and went to trapping. Notwithstanding the country had all been trapped over, we had fair success, or, at least, much better than we expected. We stayed there and trapped until some time in February, when we pulled up and moved down Green river nearly twenty miles and there we trapped for two weeks, but not with as good success as we had had at the old camp. We again moved camp down to what was known as Hell’s Hole. There we found about forty French Can- adians trapping for the Hudson Bay Company, who, by the way, had plenty of bad whiskey. They were not very friendly toward the new arrivals. Among the party was a big fellow by the name of Shewman, that seemed to think himself a very bad man; he did not appear to have any love or respect for any American trapper, which was the case with the general run of those French Canadians who were in the employ of the Hudson Bay Company. Kit Carson kills a 1 2 1 This man Shewman seemed to have a great antipathy toward Kit Carson. If the reader will pardon me, I would like to say just here, that while Kit Carson was the last man to offer an insult, yet, at the same time, if challenged, he would fight any man living rather than be called a coward, and in those days the character of men concerning whom this work is written quarreled but very little. If a man insulted another, ten chances to one he would be chal- lenged to fight a duel; and in such a case he would either have to fight or be branded as a coward, and the sooner he left the crowd the better it would be for him, for he could see no peace while remaining with them. The third day we arrived at the place spoken of, this man Shewman got pretty well ginned up and started out to look for Uncle Kit, saying that he had heard a great deal of Kit Carson and of his fighting proclivities, and that he would lick him on sight. One of Shewman’s friends, knowing Kit Carson by reputation, tried to in- duce him to let Kit alone and have nothing to do with him, but the more they said to him the madder he got, until finally he was raging with anger. It happened that while he was in his rage, Uncle Kit, Jake Harrington and I, knowing nothing of Shewman’s mad fit, started out to look after our horses and had to pass near their camp. Just as we were passing by their cabin, Shewman said: ‘‘There goes the d — d white-faced American now. Look at him, hQ looks just like a coward, and he is a d — d cowardly cur, just like all the rest of the Ameri- cans. 122 TRAPPER, WHO WAS Uncle Kit stopped and addressed him in the follow- ing manner: “I am an American and I feel proud of the name, but I would have you understand that I am no coward. I will fight you any way that you wish.” Shewman said: 4 ‘If you want me to kill you, get your horse and I will get mine, and we will get one hun- dred yards apart and start at the word. After we start, each fire when we please.” This Uncle Kit agreed to, saying: “There is my horse, I will be ready in three minutes. Get ready as soon as you please; as you seem to want to fight, I will accommodate you.” I had been with Uncle Kit now since 1847, and this was the first time I had ever seen him in any serious trouble, and I was surprised at the cool and unexcited manner in which he talked to Shewman. He was ap- parently as cool as though he was just in the act of start- ing out buffalo hunting, There was a smile on his coun- tenance when he was talking to Shewman about the fight that was to take place, in which one of them was to lose his life. I had been with Kit Carson long enough to know better than to say anything to him, but Jake Harrington followed him out to where his horse was, and started in to try to talk him out of the notion by telling him that Shewman was drinking. He turned to Harrington and said: “Jake, I thought you were an American, and would fight for the name.” Harrington, seeing that Uncle Kit was determined in the matter, said no more. Carson went out to where his saddle-horse was feed- Uncle Kit fired anu ~u iell. Page 123 SPOILING FOR A FIGHT. 123 ing, caught him and took a half-hitch around his nose with the riatta, jumped on him without any saddle, and by this time Shewman was on his horse also, with his rifle in hand. Up to this time I had not said a word to Uncle Kit, but as I came up I asked him if he was not going to get his gun. “No,” said he, “this is all the gun I want;” and he took out his pistol and rode away a few rods, so thajt Jake Harrington and I would not be in range of the bullets from Shewman’s gun, and stopped to wait for Shewman to give the word. A number of Shewman’s friends tried to persuade him not to start, but their talk only seemed to add to his rage. After they had exhausted all their persuasive powers, and seeing that he was so determined in the matter, they let him go. He cried out in French that he was ready, and at that moment they both started their horses at full speed toward each other. When within thirty yards, Shew- man fired, and at the crack of his gun, Jake Harrington clapped his hands and shouted: “Good! good! Uncle Kit is safe.” We could not see any sign of his being hit, and when a few yards nearer each other, Uncle Kit fired, and Shew- man fell to the ground mortally wounded, the bullet pas- sing through his body just above the heart. Shewman lived until Uncle Kit got to him, then he acknowledged that it was all his own fault, and that it was good enough for him. As soon as the fight was ended, Jake Harrington and I ran into camp to notify the rest of our crowd, thinking 124 THE FUNERAL. that we would have to fight the entire Canadian outfit of trappers, but we found it quite different, for after the fight they were more friendly toward us than before. We stayed two days and helped to bury Shewman. This was the first white man that I had ever seen buried in the Rocky Mountains. We rolled him up i n a blanket, laid in the and cov- ered him with dirt. The fu- neral beingover, our party start- ed for Bent’s Fort. The third day’s travel brought us to Sweetwater, where we came to the top of a hill, from which we could overlook the entire valley, which was covered with wagons and tents. This was a large train of emigrants from various portions of the East who had started the year before and had wintered on Platte river, the edge of settlement, and when spring opened theyhad resumed their journey. He acknowledged that it was all his own fault. WITH EMIGRANTS. 125 After supper that evening, Uncle Kit suggested that we visit the emigrant camp and see the ladies, which did not altogether meet with my approval, but rather than be called bashful, I went along with the crowd. I was now twenty-one years of age, and this was the first time I had got sight of a white woman since I was fif- teen, this now being the year of 1853. I had been out in the mountains a long time, and had not had my hair cut during that time, but took excellent care of it. I always kept it rolled up in a piece of buck- skin, and when unrolled it would hang down to my waist. There was a number of young ladies in the train, and they were not long in learning that I was the most bash- ful person in the crowd, and they commenced trying to interest me in conversation. At that time I only owned two horses, and would have given them both, as free as the water that runs in the brook, if I could only have been away from there at that moment. Seeing that I had long hair, each of them wanted a lock. By this time I had managed to muster courage enough to begin to talk to them. I told them that if they would sing a song, they might have a lock of my hair. A little, fat Missouri girl, spoke up and said: “Will you let any one that sings have a lock of your hair?” I assured her that I would. “And each of us that sing?” interrupted another young lady. I said each one that would sing could have a lock, provided there was enough to go around. 126 THE PRETTIEST SONG I now had the ice broken, and could begin to talk to the ladies and crack a few jokes with them. The little, fat, chubby young lady, that 6*st started the conversation, sang a song entitled “Th c > Californian’s Lament,” which was as follows: Now pay attention unto me, All you that remain at home, And think upon your friends Who have to California gone; And while in meditation It fills our hearts with pain, That many so near and dear to us We ne’er shall see again. While in this bad condition, With sore and troubled minds, Thinking of our many friends And those we left behind; With our hearts sunk low in trouble, Our feelings we cannot tell, Although so far away from you, Again we say, farewell. With patience we submitted Our trials to endure, And on our weary journey The mountains to explore. But the fame of California Has begun to lose its hue — When the soul and body is parting What good can money do? The fame of California Has passed away and gone; And many a poor miner Will never see his home. They a,re falling in the mountains high, And in the valleys, too; They are sinking in the briny deep, No more to rise to view. I HAD EVER HEARD. \2J This I thought the prettiest song I had ever heard in my life. Environment so colors things. In other words, ‘ ‘circumstances alter cases.” The lady at once demanded a lock of my hair as compensation for services rendered, and I removed the buckskin wrap and told her to take a lock, but cautioned her not to take too large a bunch, for fear there might not be enough to go around. The young lady, seeing that I was very bashful, had considerable trouble in find- a lock that suited her. A number of the young ladies sang together, after which several of them took the scis- She had trouble in finding a lock that suited her. sors and cut a lock of hair from the head of the young trapper. I wondered at the time why it was that all the young ladies had a pick at me, for there was Johnnie West, a 128 GIVEN THREE CHEERS. fine looking young man, who was continually trying to engage some of them in conversation, but they did not want to talk to any one but me, and it amused Uncle Kit not a little to see the sport the young ladies were having at my expense. Before leaving, I told the young lady who sang the first song that I thought it was the prettiest song I had ever heard, and requested her to sing it again. She re- plied that she would if I wished, and she did. The next day about ten o’clock as we rode along, feeling drowsy from the warm sun, Jake Harrington turned around in his saddle, yawned and said: “Well, Will, can’t you sing the song for us that you learned from those little Missouri gals last night?” I told him I thought I could, and commenced clear- ing up my throat, at which the entire crowd smiled above a whisper; but I surprised the crowd by starting in and singing the song just as I heard the young lady sing it the evening before. Every man in the crowd took off his hat, and they gave me three cheers. On arriving at Bent’s Fort we learned that furs were high, and notwithstanding our catch was light, Uncle Kit did fairly well. He sold his furs again to Col. Bent and Mr. Roubi- doux. After Uncle Kit had settled up with all the other boys, he called me into the tent and said: “Willie, I have settled with all the men now but you; how much am I owing you?” Up to this time I had never received any wages from Uncle Kit, nor had I expected any, for I did not think MY FIRST WAGES. 129 that I had done enough for him to pay for my raising. I had always felt under obligations to him for picking me up when I was without a home and almost penniless, and had, as I considered made a man of me. Uncle Kit told me that I was old enough now to do a man’s work, and that I was able to fill a man’s place in every respect. He took his purse from his pocket, counted me out one hundred and fifty dollars in gold; and not until then had I known that he had ordered me a fifty dollar suit of buckskin made at Taos, the fall be- fore; and not until then had he told me that he was to be married on the tenth of July, and wanted Johnnie West and I to be there without fail. I asked him who he was going to be married to. He said her name was Rosita Cavirovious. She was a Mexican girl who lived in Taos. I did not know the lady but was acquainted with some of her brothers. I told Uncle Kit that I would surely be there. Uncle Kit and Jim Beckwith now started for Taos, and Johnnie West and I began making preparations to start in hunting for Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux, as per contract nearly one year before. Col. Bent said that he was very glad that we were ready to start in hunting, as they had been out of fresh meat at least half of the time that spring. In that country bacon was high, being worth from twenty-five to thirty cents per pound, and early in the spring higher even than that. This spring, as usual, there were some thirty trappers congregated at Bent’s Fort, apparently to eat and drink up what money they had earned during the winter. 13 ° ON THE PlJRGATOIRE. CHAPTER IX. Marriage of Kit Carson. — The wedding feast. -- Providing buffalo meat, in the original pack- age, FOR THE BOARDING-HOUSE AT BENT’S FORT. Johnnie West and I started with a saddle-horse each and four pack-mules for a buffalo hunt; I still riding Croppy, the pony Uncle Kit had given me at St. Louis, but he was getting old and somewhat stiffened up in his shoulders. We traveled up the Arkansas river to the mouth of the Purgatoire — pronounced in that country Picket Wire — which was about thirty miles from Bent’s Fort. Seeing a small band of buffalo some distance away, we took the pack-saddles off of the mules and turned them out to graze, mounted our saddle-horses and were off for the herd; but the wily beasts got wind of us and started off before we got within gunshot of them. After running them about a mile we overhauled them, both fired and each killed a yearling calf while on the run. I fastened my rifle to the pommel of the saddle, drew my pistol, and there being a very fine heifer that had dropped back to the rear, I spurred up by the side of her and was just in the act of firing, when old Croppy stepped into a prai- rie-dog hole and fell with me. Johnnie West had just fired his second shot and killed a fine three-year-old heifer, when he looked aud saw old death of Croppy. 131 Croppy lying there, and I stretched out beside him, ap- parently dead. The first thing I knew after the fall, Johnnie West was sitting by my side slapping me in the face with his hand. I was badly bruised but no bones were broken, and as soon as I recovered sufficiently to know for a certainty that I was not dead, an examination of old Croppy devel- oped the fact that his left shoulder was badly broken. I being too chicken-hearted to shoot him, got Johnnie West to put him out of his misery, and now I was left afoot and thirty miles from home. Johnnie West went back and got our pack-mules. We dressed our buffalo and had plenty of meat to load all of our mules, and some to leave there for the hungry cayotes. That night while we were cooking some of the meat for supper, the cayotes raised a howl and it seemed as though they would take possession of our camp in spite of us; but by firing a shot among them once in a while, we were able to keep them at bay. In those days hunters never took along anything to eat, for a man that could not kill what he could eat was considered worthless. The following morning we loaded our meat on the mules, lashed my saddle on top of one of the packs and started for Bent’s Fort. I being bruised and crippled up from the effects of my fall, Johnnie let me ride his horse and he walked almost the entire way home. Mr. Roubidoux on learning that I had left old Croppy dead on the prairie, said: ‘‘I have got the best buffalo horse on the plains, and I will make you a present of 132 Kit Carson's marriage. him;” and turning to his herder, he said, “go and bring Pinto in.” When the spotted horse was brought in, Mr. Roubi- doux said: “Now, Will, I am going to make you a present of this horse, and I want you to keep him to re- member me by.” I thought this the prettiest horse I had ever laid eyes on, and he proved to be as good a buffalo horse as Mr. Roubidoux had represented him to be. On the third day of July, Johnnie West and I having enough meat ahead to last several days, we pulled out for Taos to attend the wedding of Kit Carson. Arriving there, Uncle Kit took us to his house. He brought my new buckskin suit, and I know it was the handsomest of the kind I had ever seen. On the front of the trousers was the finest of bead work, repre- senting horses, Indians, buffalo, deer and various other animals; and on the coat the same, except they were worked with beads and porcupine quills. I was now twenty-one years old, and had never at- tended a wedding. The ladies present all being of Catho- lic faith, Uncle Kit and his bride were married in the Catholic church by the priest. There were at that time about five hundred inhabi- tants in Taos, and every man, woman and child attended the wedding of Kit Carson. After the ceremony was over all marched down about three blocks to where there had been a whole bullock roasted, also three sheep. The tables used were made of rude boards split out with a froe. There were no table-rloths, no tea or coffee, but plenty of wine and an Cheyenne Camp, territory. THE WEDDING FEAST. 133 abundance of meat, that all might “eat, drink and be merry. ” While we were at the supper table Uncle Kit hap- pened to get sight of Johnnie West and I, and, taking each of us by the hand, he led us over and gave us an in- troduction to his wife, and this was the first time I had ever been introduced to a lady. Uncle Kit introduced me as his Willie. Mrs. Carson turned to me and said: “Ge-lem-a mo cass-a la-mis-mo ta-casso tades vases; meaning, “Willie, my house shall be your home at any and all times. ,, As I do not write Spanish, I simply give the sound of her words as she spoke them — or as I would. * I was highly pleased with the manner in which Mrs.. Carson addressed me, for no lady had ever spoken so kindly to me before, and I had supposed that after Uncle Kit was married I would have to hunt another home. Supper being over, all repaired to the dance hall and enjoyed themselves dancing until sunrise the next morn- ing, when they returned to the tables for breakfast. This time they had coffee and tea, but during the entire feast they did not have a bite of bread on the table. Here I met Jim Beckwith, of whom there will be much more said at intervals later on. Jim wanted me to accompany him to California the following spring, saying that he knew of a pass through the Sierra Nevada Mountains, which, if we could manage to get the tide of emigration turned that way, we could establish a toll road and make a fortune out of it. I said 134 with Col. Bent. I would not promise him now, but would give him an answer later on. The wedding being over, Johnnie West and I, after bid- ding Uncle Kit and his wife good-bye, started for Bent’s Fort. Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux wanted to employ us to hunt for them the coming winter. Johnnie thought he could do better trapping, but I hired to them to huut until the following spring. Col. Bent always had from six to twenty boarders, having six men of his own, and I kept them in meat all winter, alone. About the first of April — this being in 1854 — I settled up with the Colonel, and having written Jim Beckwith the fall before that I would be on hand to go with him to California, I now pulled out for Taos. I visited with Uncle Kit and his wife while at Taos, and found that what Mrs. Carson had said at the feast was true, for I was as welcome at their home as though I was one of the family. Jim Beckwith had everything in readiness for our trip across the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The day before starting, Uncle Kit asked us what route we would take. Jim said that we would go around by the headwaters of the Gila river, this being a tribu- tary to the Colorado. On this trip we would cross that part of the country which is now Arizona. Uncle Kit said this was a good route, and that he had gone over it twice in company with Col. Fremont. He drew a dia- gram of the country, showing the route by streams, mountains and valleys; telling us also what tribes of In- dians inhabited each section of the country that we would off for California. 135 pass through. Among the different tribes spoken of was the Pimas, whom he said were friendly toward the whites, and insisted on our calling on that tribe, provided we went that way. He had been at their village in 1845, and at that time they had told him he was the third white man they had ever seen. The reader will understand that all the Indians in that section of the country at that time could speak Spanish, having learned it from the Aztecs, a tribe that lived in Old Mexico and were of Montezuma’s race. Thev often came out into that country to trade with the other Indians. All being ready we bade Uncle Kit and his wife good- bye, and were off for California. We crossed the Rocky Mountains up the Arkansas river and took the trail made by. Col. Fremont in 1848 to the summit of the Rocky Mountains. We then crossed over the mountains on to the headwaters of the south fork of Grand river, and from here we headed almost south, passing through a country that had all been burned over. We could look ahead for miles and see nothing but burnt hills. Game was so scarce that we could barely kill enough to supply us with food, until we struck the north fork of Gila river. Here we found plenty of game. We traveled down the Gila three days, which brought us to the Pima — or as was sometimes then called Peone — village. This village was situated in a lovely valley about twenty miles long and ten wide. The soil was very fertile. The surround- ing mountains were very high and covered with fine tim- ber, while the foothills were luxuriant in the finest at Pima village. 136 quality of bunchgrass, and along the little mountain streams were cottonwood and willows. The Indians here were fairly well civilized, a fact worthy of note, as they had never had a missionary or priest among them. They also had a different mode of worship from the tribes of the Northwest. Their place of worship was what might be called a large shed con- structed by setting posts in the ground and covered with poles, brush and the leaves of the century plant, these leaves being from three to five feet long and from six to ten inches wide. Their houses were also covered with these leaves. I never saw but two of these plants in bloom. One was about fifty miles north of Sacramento and the other in Golden Gate Park, near San Francisco. It was said they held their flowers four months. These flowers are very beautiful, being four inches across and look as though they were made of wax. But to return to my story. These Indians had three days of worship, also three days of feasting. On assem- bling at their place of worship, the chief chose four men from the audience, whom we would term preachers, but which they called abblers. They never pray, but the abblers stand up and talk to the audience, during which time the Indians preserve the very best order. The ab- blers tell them what they must do and what they must not do. When ready to break up, all join in singing, but never sing before preaching. Just how they learned this mode of worship was a mystery to me, and is yet, for that matter. We attended service while in the village Ta-her-ye-qua-hip, or Horse Back’s Camp. THEIR INDUSTRY. J37 and after preaching was over many of them invited us home with them. There were about five hundred men in this tribe, all of whom were apparently very industrious, raising corn, melons, red pepper and other vegetables in abundance. They raised some very large melons, which were not ex- cellent in flavor, however. The Pimas were very kind to us while we were with them, often taking us out to their truck patches and pul- ling nice, large melons for us. I asked a very aged Indian where they got their seed corn, but he did not know, saying they had raised it ever since he could remember. They did their plowing with wooden plows, which they made themselves, being pulled by oxen that were hitched to the plows by a strong stick in front of their horns. For harrows they used brush, and they had shovels made of wood to dig with. Notwithstanding they were in one sense uncivilized, they showed us more hospitality during the time we were with them than most white people would have shown to strangers. These Indians keep their age by taking a piece of horn, pressing it out flat and punching a hole in the cen- ter. When a child is a certain age he has one of these tied about his neck, and every year the child is supposed to cut a notch in the piece of horn. I did not learn how old they had to be before they were supposed to keep tlieir own age. We found the chief of the tribe to be very obliging. He told us the Apaches were bad Indians, and that they had killed many white people — men, women and children. 138 THE NAKED YUMAS. When we were ready to leave the village, the chief came out and bade us good-bye, and gave us a cordial invitation to call on him when passing through the country. We crossed the Gila river near where Colville now stands. Here was a tribe of very indolent Indians, that during this season of the year did not wear a stitch of clothing of any kind whatever. They were known as the Yum as. We both emptied our rifles before crossing the river, knowing that they would get wet in crossing. I fired at a bird across the river and it fell to the ground. At the crack of my rifle the Indians ran a few paces from me, dropped down and Stuck their fingers in their ears. They told us in Spanish that they had never seen a wah-hootus before, meaning a gun with a loud report. When Jim Beckwith went to fire his gun off, the sqauws all ran away, but the bucks, being more brave, stayed, but held their hands over their ears. This tribe lived principally on fish. The reader will remember that I had traveled over this same country in the year 1849 company with Kit Carson and Col. Fremont, when on our trip to California. After traveling about five miles we crossed a little sage-brush valley that was almost covered with jack-rab- bits, and they were dying by the thousand. We could see twenty at one time lying dead in the sage-brush. That night we camped on what has since been known as Beaver creek, and here we had to strike across the San Antonio desert, and having been across the desert I knew it would be eighty miles to water. Having two THE GOSHOOTS. 139 parafleshes with us for such emergencies, we filled them with water to use in crossing this desert. A paraflesh is made of rawhide expressly to carry water in, and are frequent- ly used to peddle milk by the Mexi- cans. The second day from Beaver creek we reached a little stream near the Go- shoot village, this being the place where Uncle Kit fin- ished buying furs to load The next morning we reached the village. I had not seen any of these Indians for five years. Then I was a mere boy and now a grown man, but every one of the Goshoots knew me and were glad to meet me. We stopped that day and visited with them, and bought some venison and frigoles, or beans. The next morning we resumed our journey to Los Angeles, crossing the extreme northeast part of Death Valley. From here on the country was all new to me, Crossing the desert. Iiis pack-train in 1848. 140 at Los Angeles. and had it not been for the kindness of the Goshoot In- dians, we would have perished for the want of water. When I told a good Indian in that village where we were going, he sat down and with his finger marked a diagram in the dust, showing the lay of the country that we must pass ever, every little blind spring near the trail, the different mountains and valleys, and made it so plain that we could scarcely have made a mistake on the trip. On arriving at Los Angeles we found only one white man in the place, and he was the only person in the whole town that could speak the English language. He had arrived there some years before, married a Mexican woman and had got to be very wealthy. He tried to in- duce us to go farther up the coast, telling us if we starred for San Francisco the country was full of Mexicans, and that they despised all Americans and would be sure to murder us on our way; but as we had started for San Francisco, we were determined to see that city if pos- sible. After laying over one day with the old American we resumed our journey. The next place we struck was Monterey, where is now the famous Hotel del Monte, about two hundred miles from Los Angeles. Here we did not find a man who could speak a word of English, and we found the Mexicans still more selfish than in Los Angeles. We began to think that the old white man had told the truth, for we would not have been surprised at any time to have been attacked by a band of Mexicans. While here I saw two persons that I thought to be curiosities. They were of Indian parentage, light com- plexion and had eyes of a pink color. One was a boy about TWO FREAKS. 141 twenty years old and the other a girl of sixteen, and were brother and sister. It was claimed that they could see well after night, but could not see their way on a bright, sunny day. These Indians were said to be of the Mojave tribe, that inhabited a portion of the country some six hundred miles east of Monterey, near the Mojave desert. I have since learned that such freaks are called albinos. The reader will no doubt wonder why we came this round-about away to get to San Francisco. The reason is that in coming a more direct course we would have passed through a country that was infested with wild tribes of Indians; that is, tribes hostile to the whites. There being only two of us the chances were it would have proved a very unhealthy trip for us at that time. CHAPTER X. Robber gamblers of San Francisco. — Engaged by Col. Elliott as Indian scout. — Kills and scalps five Indians. — Promoted to chief scout. Arriving at San Francisco we found things very lively, this being about the time of the greatest gold excitement in California. 142 “PLAYED OUT OF LUCK. • » Here was the first city of note that I had been in since leaving St. Louis; here also was the first time I had seen gambling going on on a large scale. There were all kinds of games and all kinds of traps to catch the honest miner and rob him of his money that he had labored hard to dig out of the ground. x y That night Jim Beckwith and I took in the sights of the city. We went to the different gambling houses and had just finished our tour and were on our way back to the What Cheer house — that being the hotel at which we put up — the leading hotel in the city then. We were just passing one of the gambling dens, when we saw two men coming out of the door leading a man between them who was crying like a child, and exclaiming: “I am ruined! I am ruined!” We learned from the two men that he had come to the city that day with eight hundred dollars in gold, had bought a ticket for New York, and it was his intention to sail for that city the following morning. But he had gone out that night to have a farewell spree with his friends, got too much booze, started in gambling, think- ing he might double his money by morning; but like thousands of other miners in those days, he “pl a y e d out of luck,” as they termed it, and had lost every cent he* had. We walked on down to the hotel, and in a few min- utes the three came into the hotel also, the one still cry- ing like a baby. The proprietor only laughed and said it was a common occurrence for men to come to the city with even twenty thousand dollars, gamble it off in less than a week and then return to the mines to make an- Beckwith Pass. M3 other stake. But he said he had never seen a man be- fore that took it as hard as this one did. % It was all new to me, and a little of it went a long ways. That night after Jim Beckwith and I had retired, I told him that I had seen all of San Francisco that I cared to, and was ready to leave. However, we stayed two days longer, after which we pulled out for the Sierra Ne- vadas, by the way of Hangtown, a little mining camp situated at the American Fork. Here we crossed over a pass that Jim had told me of more than a year previous, which led us to the headwaters of the Carson river. I proposed we give it the name of Beckwith Pass; and from that day to this it has been known by that name, and since has been made a splendid stage road. After traveling down the Carson river some distance, we met a party of miners who informed us that a few days previous a band of Indians down on the Humboldt had made an attack on an emigrant train, cut off a por- tion of the train, stampeded the teams, killed all the people of that part of the train and burned the wagons. They also informed us that Col. Elliott was down on what was known as Truckee Meadows with a company of soldiers, but, so far, was having very poor success kill- ing Indians. Col. Elliott had been sent out there with four compa- nies of cavalry to protect the emigrants against the Pah- Ute or Piute Indians, which were very numerous down on the Humboldt, and around the sink of the Carson and as far up the mountains as Lake Tahoe. Jim being very well acquainted with Col. Elliott, pro- 144 Meet Col. Elliott. posed we go around that way, thinking that the Colonel might be able to assist materially in turning the tide of emigration through his pass, his object being to get as much travel that way this fall as possible, and the fol- lowing spring he would establish a toll road through that pass. Col. Elliott was pleased at meeting Jim, and in the conversation said: “Beckwith, I am very glad, indeed, to see you. You are just the man I have been wanting this long time, for I haven’t a scout in my entire com- mand that is worth a cent to scout for Indians. I don’t believe there is one of them that would dare to leave headquarters fifteen miles alone, and I want to e'mploy you as chief of scouts.” Jim thanked the Colonel kindly for the honor, but told him he could not accept the offer as he had another matter he wished to attend to, and told him of the scheme he had on hand. But, he said, he had a young man with him that he could recommend highly for that position, and he gave me a great send off as a scout. The Colonel insisted on our going with him to his private quarters for supper, which we did, and after hav- ing a pleasant visit with him, we returned to our own camp for the night. When we were ready to take our departure for the evening, Col. Elliott said: “Mr. Drannan, can I see you privately to-morrow morning at nine o’clock?” I told him that I would call at his quarters at that hour. After Jim and I had reached our camp I asked him why he had misrepresented me to Col. Elliott in the way ENGAGED BY HIM H5 he had, when he knew I had never scouted a day in my life, knew nothing of scouting and had done very little Indian fighting. Jim said: 4 'You are a young man and have been among the Indians long enough to be pretty well ac- quainted with their habits. There is not a single fellow in Elliott’s outfit knows as much about scouting as my black horse, and if you ever intend starting in, now is your chance. That is the reason I gave you such a send off to the Colonel.” After thinking the matter over, I concluded that Jim was right in regard to it, and now was a good time to make a start. After breakfast the next morning I met Col. Elliott at his quarters at the time appointed. He invited me in and set out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. I thanked him, but declined to drink. "Where were you raised,” said the Colonel, "that you do not drink whiskey? I thought you grew up in the Rocky Mountains. ” I told him that I did, but was not raised to drink whiskey. I also told him that I had been brought up, since a boy fifteen years old, by Kit Carson. The Colonel asked me many questions about Indians, their habits, my idea of fighting them and so on, after which he asked me if I would like a position as scout. I told him I would, provided there was enough in it to justify me. The Colonel made me a proposition of one hundred dollars a month and rations, I to furnish my own horses. I could also turn my extra horses in with the Government 146 as Indian scout. horses and it would cost me nothing to have them herded. I accepted his proposition, agreeing to start in on the following morning. I also had an agreement with him that when I did not suit him, he was to pay me off and 1 would quit. Also, when he did not suit me, I was to have the privilege of quitting at any time, all of which was satisfactory to him, and I started in on the following morning as per agreement. •That evening about sunset three of Col. Elliott’s scouts came in, and he gave me an introduction to them, telling them that I was going to be a brother scout. After supper I had a long talk with one of them, in which he posted me somewhat as to the different watering places, grass, etc. From him I learned that they had not seen an Indian for three days, but had seen any amount of sign every day, which was evidence that there were plenty of Indians in the country. The following morning when I went for my orders I was much surprised at the Colonel saying: “Oh, damn it! I don’t care. Go any way you please and as far as you please. The other boys say there is not an Indian in fifty miles of here, and if you find any you will do better than any man I have sent out, so far.” When I went to order my lunch, and told the negro cook to put up enough to last me until the next night, he looked at me and said: “Whar you goin’, boss?” Jim told him I was going out to get some cayote scalps. I now mounted Mexico — the horse that Mr. Reed had given me at the City of Mexico — and started off on my SPIES THREE REDSKINS. *47 first scouting trip, taking an easterly direction until I had struck the old emigrant road. After I had left camp the other scouts were talking among themselves, and none of them thought I would ever return. One of the scouts told Jim that I was the biggest fool that he had ever seen, to start out scouting in a strange re- gion and not ask anything about the coun- try, grass, water, Indians, or anything else. “Don’t be alarmed about that boy,” said Jim, “he'll take care of himself in any man’s country.” I had been taught by Uncle Kit that when I attempted to do a thing to carry it out at all hazards, if it was in my power to do so. After I had ridden about twelve miles or so, and was just entering the mouth of a little ravine, on looking up the same ravine I saw three Indians who had just hove in sight over the hill. I dropped back from their view as quick as I could, which only took about two or three jumps of my horse. 148 IN A QUANDARY. The Indians having their backs toward me, I was confident they had not seen me. They were heading for the emigrant trail, that being what we called the wagon road across the plains in those days. I rode around the point of a hill and tied my horse in a washout where he would be hid from view, climbed up the top of the hill and saw five warriors, riding direct for the trail. After watching them for a short time I hurried back to my horse, mounted him and rode as fast as Mexico could conveniently carry me — over this sage- brush country — about a quarter of a mile in an opposite direction to which the’ Indians were traveling. Riding up to the head of a little ravine, where I could tie my horse in a place where he would not be discovered by the redskins, I dismounted, tied my horse and crawled up through the sagebrush to the top of the hill, where I could watch the movements of the Indians. This was a rolling country, low hills covered with a heavy growth of sagebrush, and not a tree of any descrip- tion to be seen anywhere. I had discovered my game, but how to capture it was what puzzled me. The reader can have a faint idea of the situation of a young man in a strange country and a sandy, sage- brush plain, who did not know where to find either water or grass. If I returned to headquarters they would escape me, and this being my first timeout in the scouting busi- ness, I could not afford to let them get away. So, after holding a private council with myself, I decided these In- dians were spies, who were scouting for a large party of Indians that were somewhere in this part oi the country, CONFIDENCE IN MEXICO. 149 and that they were looking for emigrants, and in case they did not see any such that day, they would no doubt go to water that night. I laid there on the hill watching their movements and trying to devise some plan by which I could capture them then. Could I only have had Jim with me, how easy it would have been to follow them to their camp that night, kill and scalp them and capture their horses. In those days an independent scout was entitled to all the stock captured of the enemy by him. I watched the Indians until they got to the emi- grant trail, where they stopped and held a council, ap- parently in doubt as to which way they should go. After parleying for some five minutes they struck out on the trail. I watched them for about two miles, then they passed over a low range of hills and were out of sight. I now mounted Mexico and rode as fast as I could, not directly after them, but as near as I could to keep out of their sight; and at the same time I felt confident that should they discover me, that there was not an In- dian pony in that whole country that could catch Mexico, either in a short or long distance. After riding some five miles or so, I dismounted and tied my horse to a sagebrush, and climbed to the top of the highest hill between me and where I supposed them to be. I discovered them about a mile away, and tjiey were just leaving the trail, riding up a ravine that led to the north. They dismounted and put their ponies out to grass. There also appeared to be a little meadow where they stopped, and I concluded there must be water there, DEVISING PLANS 150 too. I took in the situation at a glance and could see that I would have to ride a long distance to get near them. Just immediately beyond them was a little hill that sloped off down to the meadow on which they were camped, but in any other direction a person could not ride without being discovered. I went back to my horse, mounted and took a circuit of about ten miles, having to travel that distance in order to keep out of their sight. Coming in from the north, I rode almost to the top of the hill; here I dismounted, tied my horse, crawled to the top of the hill, and on look- ing down could see them almost under me, the hill was so small and steep. They were busily engaged in skin- ning a jack-rabbit, and about that time I felt as though I could eat a hind quarter of it myself if it had been cooked; for I had been too busily engaged that day to stop and eat a lunch. Here I lay in the sagebrush trying to devise some plan by which I could do away with them and capture their horses. It was now about four o’clock in the afternoon, and this being about twenty miles from headquarters, I would not have time to ride there and return with soldiers be- fore they wold break camp in the morning. For me to attack them alone looked like a big under- taking. There being a little grass for their horses, I now con- cluded they would remain until morning. So I crept back to where my horse was tied, took out my lunch and sat down and ate it, at the same time debating in my mind the best course to pursue. f FOR ATTACK. 151 I remembered what Col. Elliott had told Jim, that he did not have a scout that dared go fifteen miles from camp, and now if I should re- turn to camp and report what I had seen, he would start soldiers out, and by the time they could reach the ground the Indians would be gone, and there would be nothingaccom- plished, conse- quently I would, no doubt, be classed with the balance of the scouts in the opinion of the Colonel. While on the other hand, should I be successful in laying a plan by which I could do away with the Indians and take their scalps to head- quarters as evidence of my work, it would give me a reputation as a scout. I was confident they had not seen me that day, and knowing, too, the Pah-Utes had not been disturbed by Col. Elliott’s scouts, they would no doubt lie down when night came, and I might steal a march on them and amid their slumbers accomplish the desired deed. I sat down and ate my lunch. 152 CREEPING UPON THEM. Having been brought up by one of the bravest fron- tiersmen that traversed the plains at that time, and who always taught me to respect a brave man and hate a cow- ard, I made up my mind to make the attack alone, pro- vided the Indians did not put out guards that night. After I had finished my lunch I examined both my single-shot pistols — I still having the one presented to me by my old friend joe Favor, three years before at Bent’s Fort, also the knife, which the reader will remem^ ber weighed two and one-fourth pounds — and creeping back to the top of the hill I watched them cook and eat the jack-rabbit. As it grew dark I drew nearer, and when it was about as dark as it was likely to be that night, I crept up to within a few yards of them. They had a little fire made of sagebrush and did not lie down until very late. I was so near that I could hear them talking, but I could not understand their language, as I had never been among them, but I was confident they were Pah-Utes, because I was in their country. After they had smoked and talked matters over, which I supposed was in regard to the next day’s scouting, they commenced to make preparations to sleep. In the crowd, apparently, were three middle-aged warriors and two young ones, not yet grown. The three older ones laid down together, while the two young ones made their beds about fifteen feet away from the other three. After they had become quiet I commenced crawling closer, as there was some fire yet and I wanted to get their exact location before I made the attack. I felt confident that I could kill one of them the first WERE SOUND ASLEEP. 153 blow with my knife, and then I could kill the other two with my pistols. But this would still leave two to one and I with nothing but a knife; however, after going this far I was determined to make the attack at all hazards. When I had crawled up within a few feet of their bed, one turned over and muttered something in his own tongue, which I could not understand. I made sure I was not detected, and after lying still for some time I con- cluded they were all asleep, and I soon made up my mind that I had better make the attack at once and have the matter settled one way or the other. After taking in the entire situation I decided to make the attack with my knife. I took the pistol from my right holster in my left hand, thereby giving me a better chance after emptying the one pistol to easily grasp the other one with my left hand. I knew that if I could get a fair lick at one of them with my big knife, which I always kept as sharp as a razor, that he would make little, if any, noise. My plan of attack being completed, I crawled up near their heads, and all appeared to be sound asleep. I decided to take the one on my right first, so that in case the other two should attempt to arise I would be in a position to shoot the one on my left and at the same time cut the other one down with my heavy knife. But it was my intention to kill all three of them with my knife, if possible, in order to save both pistols for the two young ones, as I expected a hard fight with them, for I felt sure they would be on to me by the time I got through with the other three, at the very best I could do. I now raised upon to my feet and aimed to strike the iS4 THE ATTACK. one on my right about the middle of the neck. I came down with all my might and killed him almost instantly. I served the second one the same way, but by this time the third one had raised to a sitting position, and I struck him in the shoulder and had to make a second lick to kill him. By this time the other two had been aroused, and, as near as I could tell in the darkness, one of them was crawling in the opposite direction on his hands and knees, while the other one was coming at me on all fours. 1 shot him with the pistol that I held in my left hand, and I then thought I was almost safe. Just at that moment the other young buck was on his feet, with bow in hand but no arrows. He dealt me a blow on the side of the head, which staggered me but did not knock me down, and before I had time to recover, he dealt me a second blow, but it did not stagger me so much as the first, but it brought the blood quite freely from my nose, at the same time I made a side stroke at him, but struck too low. I then drew my other pistol from the holster and fired, shooting him through the chest, and though he fell mortally wounded, he again raised to his feet and dealt me another blow, which was a great surprise to me, but just one stroke of my big knife severed his jugular and he yielded up the ghost. Now my task was done. At the risk of my life I had accomplished the desired end, and my reputation as a scout would be established. I knew the other scouts were having some sport at my expense while I was away, for I had overheard two of them in a conversation that morning make some remarks ibout Col. Elliott’s tenderfoot scout. AT HEADQUARTERS. 1 55 I had said nothing to them, but this made me all the more determined in the undertaking, and now I had turned the joke on them, and, as the old saying goes, “he who laughs last laughs best.” I could see by the light in the east that the moon would be up in a short time, so I went and got my sad- dle-horse from where I had tied him, and who, by this time was very thirsty and hungry, as he had had nothing to eat and no water since morning. I watered him, then picketed him out for about two hours on the little meadow, by which time the moon had risen. I then scalped the five Indians and tied their scalps to my belt. They would be good evidence of my day’s work when I should meet the Colonel at his quarters. This being done, I tied the five Indian horses together and started for headquarters, arriving there about noon the next day. Just as I had put the horses in the corral and before I had time to dismount, Col. Elliott’s orderly came on the dead run, saying: “Col. Elliott wishes to see you at his quarters at once. ” I turned about and rode over to the Colonel’s tent, and when I had saluted him, he said: “Sir, whose horses are those you just turned into that corral?” I said: “Sir, those are my horses, as I understand that any stock captured from the Indians by an inde- pendent scout, he is entitled to.” “Mr. Drannan, do you tell me that you captured those horses from an Indian?” I said: “Col. Elliott, yes, sir; and here is some- i 5 6 SCALPS FOR DINNER. thing more I captured with them.” At that I threw down the five scalps at his feet. He looked amazed as he gazed at the scalps, but said nothing for a* few moments. About this time the orderly announced Jim Beckwith at the door. The Colonel said let him come in, and just as he entered the door, Col. Elliott said: ‘‘Beckwith, where do you suppose this scout got those scalps?” Jim picked up the scalps, examined them thoroughly, and said: ‘Til bet my black horse that he took them from the heads of five Pah-Ute Indians.” The Colonel smiled and said: “Drannan, if you will tell us all about the whole affair, I will treat.” I related the adventure in brief. Dinner being ready, the Colonel set out the whiskey and cigars and told me to call on him that afternoon, as he wished to have a private conversation with me. I picked up the five scalps and started to dinner, and as I passed by the kitchen I threw them under the negro cook’s feet and told him to cook them for dinner for my friend and me— referring to Jim Beckwith. When he saw the scalps he exclaimed: “Laws a massa, boss! whar you git dem skelps? Marse Meyers said dey wasn’t an Injun in fifty miles o’ hyar.” While we were eating dinner, Jim said to me: “Don’t you know them fellers didn’t think you’d ever come back?” I asked him what fellows, and he said: “Why, those scouts. One of them told me you was the d — est fool hq REPUTATION MADE. 157 ever saw in his life, to go out scouting alone in a strange country, and that the Pah-Utes would get you, sure.” I said I did not think it worth while to ask those scouts anything about Indians or anything else, for I didn’t think they had been far enough from camp to learn anything them- selves. That after- noon when I was announced at the Colonel’s tent, I was met in a somewhat different manner by him to what I had been that noon, for he raised the front of the tent and '‘L aws a ma ssa, boss! whar you git dem skelps?” said : “Come right in Drannan, why do you hesitate?” After having asocial chat with him and rehearsing to some extent the fight which took place the night before between myself and the five Pah-Utes, he proposed to make me chief of his scouts. He said: ‘‘Now, Drannan, I will tell you what I wished to see you about. I have i5« CHIEF OF SCOUTS. five scouts besides you, and I am going to make you chief of all my scouts, and you can handle them to suit yourself.” I told the Colonel that I did not desire any promotion whatever, for in the first place I would not be doing my- self justice, and that it would not be doing justice to the other scouts, and I thought it would be of more benefit to both him and his other scouts, to go alone, as I had started out. He asked me why I would prefer going alone. My reply was that a person in that business could not be too cautious, and I did not know what kind of men he had, and just one careless move would spoil the plans of the best scout in the world. The Colonel admitted that I was right, but insisted on selecting one man from his five scouts to assist me, saying: “If he don’t suit you, after trying him two or three days, report to me, and you may select any one from my scouts that you like.” And to this I consented. I told him that I would be ready to start out the follow- ing morning, and if he had any orders to give me to give them now, as I would start very early. He said that he had no orders to give, but that he had selected Charlie Meyers to accompany me; and he proved to be a good man and a good scout. — :o: — A DRY CAMP. 1 59 CHAPTER XI. A LIVELY BATTLE WITH PAH-UTES. PlNNED TO SADDLE WITH AN ARROW. SOME VERY GOOD INDIANS. A STUTTERING CAPTAIN. BECKWITH OPENS HIS PASS. The next morning I ordered three days’ rations for two men, and Charlie Meyers desired to know if I was going to Salt Lake City or New York. I told him I was going out hunting, and if I struck fresh signs of game I proposed tracking it to wherever it went. That day we took the divide between Carson and Humboldt, south of the emigrant trail, making a ride of forty miles that day, and then a dry camp — a camp with- out water. The following morning we rode about five miles, and came on to a big Indian trail that had been made the evening before. We pushed on as fast as we could, all the time keeping a sharp lookout, for we were now in the heart of the Pah-Ute country, and could not be too careful. About half past three o’clock we came to where the Indians had camped the night before, on a tributary of the Humboldt. At this camp three antelope had been devoured, so we knew that there had been a large band of the redskins at that feast. It was also evident that they were not very far ahead of us, as their fires had not entirely died out. Continuing the pursuit we were now getting close to the emigrant trail, and it was plain that the Indians had SEA OF SAGEBRUSH. 160 headed west, which convinced me that they were looking foremigrants, and if so they would not go far before they would either go into camp or leave the trail. It proved that after following the emigrant train a short distance they had taken to the hills. The country was a sea of sagebrush, and frequently we would start a jack-rabbit or antelope that we would have been pleased to roast for supper, but dared not shoot. When near the top of a hill I would dismount, and leaving my horse with Meyers, would crawl to the sum- mit of the hill and peep over in order to discover whether or not the Indians were in sight, and then return, mount I peeped over to get a sight of them. my horse and ride at a rapid gait until near the top of another hill, when the same manceuver would be repeated. A BAND OF PAH-UTES. 161 At last we came to a sharp ridge and I dismounted. I remarked that if we did not find those Indians soon we would have to make another dry camp that night. It was now nearly sunset, and on crawling to the top of the ridge and looking down on a nice little valley not more than a half-mile distant, I saw that they had just gone into camp and had not yet got all their ponies unpacked. I had a good chance to make a rough estimate of their number, which I thought to be about two hundred warriors. I rushed back to Meyers and told him that I had lo- cated them, and that one of us would have to ride back to headquarters that night and report, and asked him whether he would rather go or stay and watch the In- dians. “Why not both go,” he asked. I told him that by the time the cavalry could get there the Indians might be gone, and one of us must stay and see where they went to. We were now, as near as we could tell, about thirty- five miles from camp, as that afternoon we had been traveling west, in the direction of headquarters. After thinking the matter over, Meyers concluded that he would rather make the ride than stay. I told him to be off at once, but before starting, he said to me: “Suppose the Indians should discover you while I am away?” I replied that I would like very much to have them discover me, when I knew the soldiers were in sight or within ten miles, for I would like to run them into such MADE GOOD TIME. 162 a trap, and that I was not afraid of any horse in their I i n s t ructed Meyers not to spare horseflesh on the way, and to tell Col. El- liott to start two companies of cavalry as soon as possible. We shook hands and he started, and that was once that he made good time. It being after seven o’clock when he started, he reached camp at fifteen minutes after eleven that night. When he had gone I started in to lay my plans for the night. It was yet so light that I could get a good view of the surrounding country, and about three miles from the In- dians’ camp I could see the highest hill anywhere around. I decided at once that if I were on that high hill I could see every move of the Indians, besides I could look up the Humboldt and see the soldiers, or at least the dust raised by them, while they were yet a long way off. band catching Mexico in any distance. RE-ENFORCEMENTS. 163 This peak lay north of the trail, and the trail ran east and west. As soon as it was dark I mounted my horse and rode to the peak and tied him to a sagebrush in a sinkhole, that looked as though it might have been put there on purpose, for my horse was hidden from every direction. I now went to the top of the hill, and there being a dense growth of sagebrush, I was perfectly safe from dis- covery when daylight should come. I did not have to wait long after daylight, for just as the sun was creeping up over the hill and shedding its rays on the little valley where the two hundred braves had had such a pleasant night’s rest, dreaming, perhaps, of emigrants, horses, provisions and other stuff that they would probably capture the following day, I looked up the Humboldt and saw the two companies of cavalry coming. The Indians seemed in no hurry to leave, and were perhaps waiting for the five scouts to return and report, never thinking that they had been killed and scalped, and that the same paleface who did the deed was then watching their every movement and laying plans for their destruction. I got my horse in about a minute, mounted and rode across the country to meet the cavalry, taking a route so that I would not be seen by the Indians. I met the soldiers — who were commanded by Capt. Mills and Lieut. Harding — -about four miles from the In- dian camp, and they came to a halt. I told them about the number I thought there were in the Indian band and the lay of the country, as nearly as 164 A CONSULTATION. ■ I could. The Captain and Lieutenant stepped to one side and held a council, and after talking the matter over they called me and said they had about decided to attack the enemy from both above and below at the same time, and, as I had seen the ground, they asked my opinion in the matter. I told them I thought it an excellent plan, and then Capt. Mills turned to Lieut. Harding and said: ‘‘Which do you prefer, to make the upper or lower at- tack? Take your choice.” He then asked me if they could get to the head of the ravine that the Indians were camped on and not be seen by them. I told him that I could show them a ravine that led from the emigrant trail to the head of the valley on which they were camped, and marked out a plat of the country in the dust, showing the course each company would have to take, telling them that the company mak- ing the upper attack would have to travel about a mile farther than the one making the attack from below. He then asked me if the companies could see each other be- fore the Indians could see them. I informed him that they could not, but that I could show him a hill where he could station a man and he would be able to see both companies, but the Indians could not see him, and when the company from above should reach the top of the hill that man could signal to the other company to charge. At that time Lieut. Harding turned to Capt. Mills and said: “If the boy scout will go with me I will make the \ipper attack, as he has been over the country and knows the lay of the ground.” Of course I consented, and we marched to the mouth Df the ravine just mentioned. TAKEN UNAWARES. 165 I pointed out the hill referred to, and the Lieutenant placed a man on top of it, and we proceeded. Just before we reached the top of the other hill, Lieut. Harding halted and formed his men in line, plac- ing them about ten feet apart, saying: “I have only a hundred soldiers, but I want it to appear that I have a thousand. ” When we first came in sight of the Indians, some were lying stretched out in the sun, some were sitting down, while a few were out looking after their horses, everything indicating that they had just had their break- fast and were lounging around, not having the slightest idea of an enemy in twenty miles of them, and we took them wholly unawares. When the Lieutenant formed his men in line be- fore raising the top of the hill, he asked me to take charge of his left wing and he would take charge of his right. As soon as we came in sight of the Indians, he gave the order to charge. This was the first thing of the kind I had ever wit- nessed, and when I cast my eyes down the line of sol- diers I thought it the grandest sight I had ever seen. This was also the first engagement for either of the companies. In all the scrimmages I had been in with the redskins, the one that made the most noise was the best Indian fighter; so when the Lieutenant gave the order to charge, I raised a yell, as I thought this to be one of the essen- tial points of a charge, and wondered why the rest of the boys did not do the same. However, after hearing a few of my whoops they picked it up, and each began yelling IN CLOSE QUARTERS. 1 66 at the top . of his voice, and by this time we were among the Indians. The two companies had about the same distance to run after sounding the charge, but Lieut. Harding was at the scene of conflict a few moments ahead of Gaft. Mills, thereby giving the Indians time to scatter. This was attributed to the fact that Capt. Mills had to charge up grade while Lieut. Harding had down grade, which they had not thought of before making the arrangement, and the ground being mostly sand made a great differ- ence in the speed ot the horses. Meyers and I made a rush for the Indians’ horses, but the soldiers all stuck together, and seeing that a number of Indians were at their horses already and mounted, we abandoned the idea at once. Had one platoon made a dash for the horses and stampeded them, we would no doubt have got more Indians. After emptying both of my single-shot pistols I drew my knife, and just at that moment an Indian shot Mey- ers through the arm with an arrow and he sang out to me that he was wounded. Another Indian then made a dash at Meyers with his bow and arrow in Jiand, so I charged after him and made a slash at him with my knife, but he saw me in time to slide off on the opposite side of his horse. I could not stop the blow so I struck his horse in the back and brought him to the ground, and the Indian ran for dear life. About this time a soldier came riding along, and I knew from his actions that his pistol was empty (the sol- diers had no firearms in this engagement except pistols). v*; Page 167 I made a strike at him with my knife. PINNED TO THE SADDLE. 167 and I asked him why he did not draw his sabre and cut them down. He said he had no orders to do so. To that I did not reply, but I thought this a queer way of fighting Indians, when a soldier had to stop in the midst of a battle, fold his arms and stand there to be shot down while waiting orders to draw his sabre. A moment later they received orders to use their sabres, and they went to hewing the Indians down. I saw an Indian with two or three feathers in his hair, and I took him to be the war chief. He was com- ing direct for me with bow and arrow in hand, and I made a desperate rush for him and made a strike at him with my knife, but he threw up his arm and knocked off my lick, at the same time a measly redskin shot me through the calf of my leg, pinning me to the mochila of my saddle. The mochila is a large covering for a saddle made of very heavy leather and comes low on the horse’s side, thereby affording great protection to horses in cases like this. This shield is of Spanish origin, but they were used by all mountaineers as well as Mexicans. I was leaning over when the arrow struck me and pinned me to the saddle, so that I could not straighten up, for I was almost on the side of the horse when I re- ceived the arrow. Capt. Mills, seeing the predicament I was in, came to my rescue and cut the war chief down with his sabre, just in time to save me from getting another arrow. The Captain pulled the arrow out of my leg, which had a very large spear made of hoop iron, and it tore a bad hole in my leg when he pulled it out. By this lime i68 THE BATTLE OVER. the redskins were scattering in all directions, some on foot and some on horseback. As soon as I was free I saw a band of about fifty horses not far away, and asked the Captain to detail some of his men to assist me in running them off. The Captain dashed off to his orderly who he told to take a pla- toon of men and go with the boy scout to take charge of those horses. In this charge we got fifty-two horses and killed four Indians. We drove the horses out on the hill where they would be out of the way and where the Indians would not get them, and the Sergeant left his men to guard them until further orders. As I rode back to the scene of battle I looked up the road and saw four wagons coming. I asked the Sergeant where those wagons were going, and he said they were ambulances, coming to haul the wounded to headquar- ters, saying they had started at the same time the cav- alry did but could not keep up, consequently they did nor arrive until after the battle was over. About the time I returned to the battlefield the bugle sounded calling the soldiers in from the chase, and on looking over the ground, four dead soldiers and twenty- seven wounded were discovered. There were sixty-three dead Indians in sight, and more, no doubt, were scattered around in the sagebrush. The battle being over we had our breakfast. I also had my horse put out to grass, as he was very hungry, not having had anything to eat since noon the day be- fore, and not much then. After breakfast was over the soldiers buried their four A PROMOTION. 169 dead comrades and loaded the wounded into the ambu- lances and started for headquarters, arriving there about nine o’clock that night. Charlie Meyers had a wound in his arm that laid him up all summer, and I was not able to ride for two weeks, although I had the best of care. From that time on I was known as the boy scout, and the next day after our return, Col. Elliott appointed me chief of scouts with rank and pay of captain, which was one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month. He also provided me with private quarters, my tent being pitched near his own, and notwithstanding that I was only a mere boy the other scouts all came to me for orders and counsel, and I often wondered why men who knew noth- ing of scouting nor the nature of Indians would stick themselves up as scouts. Two weeks from the time I got wounded the .Colonel asked me if I thought I was able to ride, saying that the news had just come to him that the Indians had attacked a train of emigrants, killed some of them and driven off their stock. This depredation he said had been com- mitted in the Goose Creek mountain country about one hundred and twenty miles east of us. CoL Elliott said that he was going to send out a company of soldiers there, and if I felt able I might accompany them, which I did. All being in readiness, I selected two scouts to assist me, and we pulled out, taking with us a pack-train with one month’s provisions. » We had a rough and 'tedious trip, as not one of the entire crowd had been over the country and did not know a single watering place, so we had to go it blind, hit or 170 PROTECTING miss. I had not gone far when I found that I had made a sad mistake, as notwithstanding my leg appeared quite well when I started out, yet, after one or two days’ rid- ing, it got quite sore and pained me severely, and the longer I rode the worse it got. Five days’ ride and we were at the place where the emigrants were camped. Another small train had pulled in with them as they were afraid to cross the desert alone. That night Capt. Mills called the men of the train together to ascertain whether or not they wished to look after their stock, but they did not seem to know them- selves what to do. They were quite sure that the In- dians had driven the stock south, as they had tracked them some distance in that direction. Capt. Mills asked me what I thought of finding the stock, and I told him that if it was driven south, of which the emigrants seemed quite sure, it was more than likely that the In- dians and stock were several hundred miles away, and that it would be next to impossible to get any trace of them, and in my opinion it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. After considering the matter the emigrants concluded that I was right. Those of them who had lost all their stock were a pitiful sight indeed, women and children were weeping, and particularly those who had lost their husbands and fathers in the fight with the Indians. There were no women and children killed, as the Indians did not attack the train, being apparently only bent on capturing the horses and cattle. They had EMIGRANTS. * 7 * killed the guards and also the men that ran out to pro- tect the stock. One who has never witnessed a like affair can scarcely comprehend the situation of a widow left out there with three or four children in this desolate region, utterly des- titute. It was a gloomy situation, indeed, and a sight that would cause the hardest-hearted man to shed tears. Those who had lost their stock made some kind of arrangements to ride with those that had come later. The day before starting the emigrants rolled all their wagons together that they did not have teams to haul, also the harness, and in fact everything they could not haul, and burned them, so that the Indians would not derive any benefit from them. I merely note a few of these facts to give the reader a faint idea of the trials, troubles and hardships that the early settlers of the '‘wild West” had to pass through, not only in crossing the plains, but, as will be shown later in this book, in many instances after settling in dif- ferent parts of this western country. The day before starting, Capt. Mills suggested that as my wound was giving me so much trouble, I should re- turn to headquarters in company with the train of emi- grants, and asked how many men I wanted to guard them through. I told him that I would not feel safe with less than twenty men. The Captain thought that twenty would not be sufficient, so he made a detail of dwenty-five men and issued rations to last us eight days. Capt. Mills and the men he had reserved remained in this section of country to guard emigrants that might be traveling westward, as the Indians were now working 172 SLOW TRAVELING. in this part of the country since our battle with them on the Humboldt. Having completed all arrangements we pulled out with one hundred and twenty-five wagons, all told, in the train, but as some of the oxen were very tender footed we had to travel very slowly. I divided my men into squads of twelve each, and changed guards at morning, noon, evening and midnight. I also started six guards ahead every morning, with instructions to keep from one to three miles from the train on either side, according to the lay of the country. The second day one of the scouts returned from the south and reported having seen six Indians southwest of the train; this was about ten o’clock in the forenoon. I turned and rode off with the scout, saying nothing to anyone in the train. He piloted me to where he had seen the Indians, and sure enough there were the tracks of their ponies in the sand. The scout returned to the train and I followed the trail of the Indians all day, but never got sight of an Indian. When dark came I turned about and rode to camp, arriving there at twelve o’clock that night. The people in the train were very much pleased to see me return, for they had felt much uneasiness as to my safety, fearing that I might have fallen into the hands of the Pah-Utes. This ride, however, laid me up for two weeks, and I had to go the balance of the way in an emigrant wagon. The captain of this train had a jaw-breaking name that I never heard before or since. It was Sam Molujean, and I know he was the most excitable man AN EXCITED CAPTAIN. 173 that I ever saw. When Capt. Molujean got excited he could not talk at all for stuttering, so one day the guards concluded to have a little sport at the expense of the Captain. We were now nearly opposite where about a month previous a battle with the Pah-Utes had been fought, and the advance guards were riding back to the train — it now being time to corrall for dinner. They met Capt. Molujean, who asked if they had seen any In- dians. One of the guards informed him that there were sixty- odd up the ravine. This set the Captain wild. He wheeled around and rode back to where I was in the wagon and started in to tell me what the guard had said, but he could not utter a word. After listening to him a minute or so I told him if he would get some one to tell what he wanted I would answer his question. I suppose I was somewhat im- patient, as I was suffering from my wound. At this one of the guards rode up with a smile on his face, and I asked him if he could tell me what Capt. Molujean was trying to say to me, He related to me what they had told him in regard to the sixty-odd Indians up the ravine, referring to the Indians that had been killed in battle between the soldiers and Pah-Utes. We had a good laugh at the Captain’s expense, after which I told him the Indians the guard had ref- erence to were all good Indians. “Oh! is that so?” he exclaimed, and these were the first words he had been able to utter. “But,” he con- tinued, “I did not know there were any good Indians in this country; I thought all of them were savage.” I 174 Beckwith’s invitation. told the Captain that those Indians were dead, and that all dead Indians were good ones. This was a stunner for the Captain, and I do not think that the joke has ever penetrated his massive skull. We did not see any more Indians or any sign of them on the trip. On reaching headquarters we found Jim Beckwith awaiting our arrival. He had been out with three other men whom he had hired to help him blaze a road across the mountains through his new pass. He had finished his work on the road and returned to Col. Elliott’s camp, knowing that if he could get one train to go his way it would be a great help toward getting the tide of immigra- tion turned in that direction the following season. Here Beckwith took charge of the train, Col. Elliott recommending him very highly, and telling the emigrants that if they would ‘only obey his orders he would pilot them through in safety. Before starting, Jim asked me to come over and spend the winter with him, saying that he was going to build a cabin on the other side of the mountains, lay in a big supply of provisions, and as after that he was going to do nothing, he wanted me to help him. I promised to go and winter with him if it was pos- sible for me to do so, as at this time I did not know but what I might have to go to San Francisco to have my leg treated the coming winter. From here the emigrants were to pay Jim to pilot them across the mountains to a little mining camp called Hangtown, which was about one hundred and twenty miles east of Sacramento. They made the trip without Deer by Moonlight MOR& EMIGRANTS. 175 any trouble. I saw one of the emigrants the next spring and they spoke in very high terms of Jim Beckwith. CHAPTER XII. Col. Elliott kills his first deer, and secures a FINE PAIR OF HORNS AS A PRESENT FOR HIS FATHER.— Beckwith’s tavern. — Society. Two weeks after the incidents related in the previous chapter, Capt. Mills came in with another train of emi- grants, not having seen an Indian on the trip, and from this time on there was no danger of such trains going from that region through Beckwith Pass, and as the road was now broken by the other train, these emigrants could cross the Sierra Nevadas without a guide. About this time four men with pack animals came along who claimed to be from Salt Lake. They reported that they had seen Indians one day traveling east of headquarters. I took two men and started out and was gone about a week, but did not see an Indian, or a track or sign of one, and when we returned the Colonel con- cluded that he had been misled by the packers. Col. Elliott now ordered me to take fifty men, wilh two weeks’ provisions, and go as far as we could with 176 off for San Francisco. that amount of rations, or until we should meet some emigrants. We were gone about three weeks, but did not see either Indians or emigrants. The fact is, that it was getting so late in the fall that the Indians had all gone south, and the emigrants were not moving on the desert at that season. On our return the Colonel had everything ready and we pulled out for San Francisco. We camped the first night at Steamboat Springs, a place that has since grown to be a famous health resort. On the second day we passed over the country where now stands Carson City, the capital of Nevada. At that time, this region, like all of that country then, was a wild, unsettled, sagebrush desert, or mountain wilderness. The morning we left Eagle Valley the Colonel rode in advance of the column with me, and I saw there was something on his mind. In a little while he said he would like to kill a deer with big horns, so that he could^ send it — the horns — to his father in New York, who hacf never seen a deer, and he added that notwithstanding he — the Colonel — had been on the Pacific coast two years, he had never killed a deer in his life. I told him that I would fix it for him to get one the very next day, and he was as pleased as a child. That night we camped by a big spring at the mouth of a great canyon, and about the spring stood a number of large pine trees. Many persons who had passed that way had carved their names in the bark of the trees, and among the names were two that were quite familiar to me. One of these was the name of Capt. Molujean — I wondered how he had done it without stuttering — and Col. Elliott's first deer. i 77 the other was the name of James Beckwith. On the same tree was written with lead pencil: '‘Sixty miles to Beckwith’s Hotel.” On my favorite horse, Pinto, I rode out with the Colonel for a deer hunt. While riding along the canyon about two miles from where the command had camped, I saw a large doe crossing the canyon and coming down the hill toward us. I signaled the Colonel to halt and I shot the doe, breaking her neck, while sitting on my horse. I then told the Colonel to secrete himself behind i;8 A PROUD COLONEL. a tree and he would soon see the male deer, and he would stand a good show to get a fine pair of horns. In a few moments two deer came tracking the one I had shot. ‘‘Be ready, now,” said I, “and when he stops let him have it.” So when the deer were within about fifty yards I gave a keen whistle and they stopped, stock still. The Colonel fired and brought the big buck to the ground. The other, which was a small one, started to run, but I sent a bullet after it that made more venison. We now had plenty of meat, and the Colonel was as proud over killing that deer as I was over my first pair of boots. We stopped here until the command came up, dressed the venison and went on our way rejoicing. Soon we were ascending the Sierra Nevada Moun- tains, and about three o’clock we struck the snow-line. To one who has never gone from comparative summer in a few hours’ ride, to the depths of winter and a con- siderable depth of snow, the sensation is a strange one. Of course, I had often done that before. But having more leisure to think of it now, and having more to do with the snow, I thought of its strangeness, and I am re- minded of a little girl whom I have become acquainted with long since those days, and the effect that the first sight of snow had upon her. She was born in San Fran- cisco, and had not seen any snow up to the time when she was three years old. Her parents were coming east with her on a railroad train, which runs over about the same ground that we were on at the time I was there with Col. Elliott. Awakening in the morning in a sleep* SHOVELING SNOW. *79 ing-car on top of the Sierras, the little one looked out, and seeing the vast fields of whiteness, she exclaimed: “Do look, mamma; the world is covered with sugar. ” As we ascended the mountains the snow became so deep in a little while that we were forced to camp. The next morning the herders were directed to take the stock ahead in order to tramp down the snow to make a trail, but in four miles it became so deep that it was impos- sible to proceed further in that manner, and then the Colonel detailed fifty men to shovel snow, but having only a few shovels, wooden ones were made that answered the purpose, and while we were shoveling, the horses were also frequently driven back and forth over the trail, and in three days we had a passable road for the wagons. At the end of the three days we reached the edge of the snow on the opposite side of the mountains, and there being a beautiful camping ground and the first night out of the snow for some time, the luxury of it was fully appreciated by all hands. On a pine tree here I again saw signs of my old friend, Jim Beckwith, for there was written: “Twenty miles to Beckwith’s Hotel.” So you see that even in that far- away country, and at that early day, even the pioneer had learned the uses of out-doo ' advertising. The next morning we took an early start and traveled hard all day, anticipating with much pleasure that at night we should enjoy all the luxuries of the season at Beckwith’s Hotel. And we did, to the extent that this region and the markets of San Francisco could afford. We reached the place about sunset that evening, and the command went into camp and I went to Jim’s new l8o A PRESENTATION. log house. He had built one and had started in to build the second, having two carpenters at work finishing them up. After supper Col. Elliott and all his officers, both commissioned and non-commissioned, came to Jim’s house, where, after a social chat and having cracked a few jokes, which latter was really a part of the business connected with this life, Col. Elliott pulled off his over- coat, laid it and his hat on a bed, stepped up near the table and said: “Mr. Beckwith, I wish to say a few words to your friend, Mr. Drannan, in behalf of myself and the other officers present.’ 1 Jim told him to go ahead, which he did, telling how faithful I had been and what valuable services I had rendered both to him and the emigrants. He went on and made quite a lengthy speech, in conclu- sion of which he said: “Mr. Drannan, as a slight token of our appreciation of your services while with us, I now present to you this pair of glasses,” whereupon he handed me a fine pair of field glasses which he took from his overcoat pocket, “and here are two navy revolvers that Capt. Mills and Lieut. Harding wish to present to you as a token of their friendship.” This took me wholly by surprise, as I had not ex- pected anything of the kind, and I was so dumbfounded that all I could say was to thank them for the presents, the thought never having entered my head that my ser- vices had been so highly appreciated by the officers of those four companies. Col. Elliott said that in case he should go out on the [bins the following summer, which in all probability he TIPPING GLASSES. 1 8 1 would, he wanted me to go with him without fail. I promised him that I would, provided I was in the coun- try when he started out. After Col. Elliott had closed his remarks and taken his seat, Jim Beckwith arose and made quite a speech in his plain, rude language, addressing his remarks princi- pally to Col. Elliott, in which he said: 4 ‘Colonel, I would not have recommended this boy to you so highly if I had not been with him long enough to know that when he starts in to do a thing he goes at it for all there is in him, and, as I told you, he has been with Kit Car- son ever since he was a boy, and I knowed that if he didn’t have the everlasting grit in him, Kit Carson wouldn’t have kept him around so long. I am very glad indeed, Colonel, that he has filled the bill, and now the Injun fightin’ is all over for this season and ’twill be some time before we all meet again, if we ever do. I have nothing of value to present to you, but such as I have is as free as the water in the brook.” At this he produced a gallon jug of whiskey, set it on the table, gave us some glasses and told us all to help ourselves. This wound up the evening’s exercises, and after each had tipped the glass about three times we broke up the lodge and each went on his way rejoicing. Before the Colonel left that night he told me that we would divide the captured horses the next morning. I told him that all I wanted was the five horses that I had captured from the five Indian scouts when I first started in to scout for him, but the next morning he called me put when the horses were brought in and made the di- 182 A LIVELY TOWN. vision. There were sixty-three of them, and he left fif- teen to my share. I stayed at Jim Beckwith’s for about two weeks, and his carpenters having the houses completed, we saddled up four horses and took them to Hangtown. It was a distance of twenty miles to Hangtown, which at that time was one of the loveliest mining towns in California. There were between four and five thousand inhabitants in and around the place. During the day it appeared dead, as there was scarcely a person to be seen on the streets; but at night it would be full of miners, who, it seemed, came to town for no other purpose than to spend the money they had earned during the day. This winter passed off, apparently, very slowly, being the most lonesome winter I had put in since I struck the mountains. Along about the middle of February our groceries were running short and Jim went to Hangtown for supplies. On his return he brought me a letter from Col. Elliott, asking me to come to San Francisco at once. I asked him what he thought of it, and he told me by all means to go. I told him I would have to stop in San Francisco and buy me a suit of clothes before going out to the fort to see Col. Elliott. He thought this was useless, saying: “Your buckskin suit that Kit Carson gave you is just what you want for a trip like that.” I thought that if I wore such a suit in civilization the people would make light of me, and I hated th$ idea of being the laughing stock for other people^ Beckwith’s hotel. 183 Jim said: “It is Coi. Elliott you are going to see, and he would rather have you come that way than any other. ” I took my suit down and looked at it, and it was a fine one of the kind. I had never worn it since Uncle Kit’s wedding, so it was practically new. 1 decided to wear it, and the next morning I started for San Francisco, Jim accompanying me to Hangtown to take the horses back to his ranche. 184 A ROUGH RIDE, At Hangtown I took the stage for Sacramento, which, by the way, was the first time I had ever ridden in a stage-coach. We started from Hangtown at five o’clock in the morning and at twelve o’clock that night the driver drew rein at the American Exchange Hotel in Sacramento. The coach was loaded down to its utmost capacity, there being nine passengers aboard. The roads were very rough at this season of the year — being the latter part of February — and I would rather have ridden on the hurri- cane deck of the worst bucking mustang in California than in that coach. This hotel was kept at that time by a man named Lamb, That night when the proprietor assigned the passen- gers to their respective rooms he asked us if we wished to take the boat for San Francisco the next morning. I told him that I did, whereupon he asked me if I wanted my breakfast. I told him that I did, saying that I didn’t want to go from there to San Francisco without anything to eat. This caused quite a laugh among the bystanders; but I did not see the point, for at that time I did not know that one could get a meal on a steamboat, for I had never been near one. Just as I stepped on the boat next morning, a man rushed up to me with a ‘‘Hello there! how are you?” as he grasped me by the hand. Seeing that I did not recog- nize him, he said: “I don’t believe you know me.” I told him that he had one the best of me. He said: “You are the boy scout that was with Capt. Mills last summer, and you rode in my wagon.” Then I recog- AT THE FORT. x8 5 nized him. His name was Healey, and at the time was running a restaurant in San Francisco, and he insisted on my going to his place when I got to the city, which i n v i t a- tion I accepted. H i s establish- ment was known as the Miners’ Restaurant. Mrs. Healey and her little daughter, eleven years old, knew me as soon as I entered the door, and were apparently as glad to see me as though I had been a relative of the family. The next morning when I offered to settle my bill they would not take a cent, but requested me while in the city to make my home with them. That day I went out to the Fort, which was three miles from the city, and on arriving there the first man I met was Lieut. Harding, who at once conducted me to Col. Elliott’s quarters. That afternoon we made the rounds of the Fort, and Col. Elliott, when introducing me, would say: “This is the ‘boy scout,’ who was out with us last summer, and whom you have heard me speak of so often.” I made my home with Col. Elliott and his wife during my stay at the Fort, which was two weeks. 1 86 SOMETHING NEW. CHAPTER XIII. Something worse than fighting Indians. — Dance at Col. Elliott’s. — Conspicuous suit of buckskin. — I manage to get back to Beckwith’s. That night Mrs. Elliott had every lady that belonged around the Fort at her house, and she took the ‘‘boy scout” along the line and introduced him to every one of the ladies. This was something new tome, for it was the first time in my life that I had struck society, and I would have given all of my previous summer’s wages to have been away from there. I did not know how to con- duct myself, and every time I made a blunder — which seemed to me every time I made a move — I would at- tempt to smooth it over, and always made a bad matter worse. Next morning at the breakfast table I told the Colo- nel and his wife that I was going back into the moun- tains as fast as I could get there. I knew I could track Indians, and fight them if necessary, but I did not know how to entertain ladies, especially when my best clothes were only Indian-tailored buckskin. Mrs. Elliott assured me that she would not have had me come there dressed differently, had it been in her power to prevent it. “Dressed otherwise than you are,” she said, “you would not be the same ‘boy scout’ that my husband has told us so much concerning.” I struck society. Page 186 AN OUTLANDISH FIGURE. 187 Of course this was encouraging, and I concluded that I might hot have been so painfully ridiculous as I had supposed. For, be it known, I had been scarcely able to sleep the night before for thinking of what an outland- ish figure I had cut that night before all those high-toned ladies, and of the sport my presence among them must have created. However, I felt much better after the pleasant way in which Mrs. Elliott declared she looked at it, and with renewed self-complacence proceeded to discuss with the Colonel his plans for the next summer’s campaign. He informed me that he intended to go out with four companies of soldiers, and would locate a short distance east of last year’s quarters, at a place where the town of Wadsworth has since been built. Plenty of good water and an abundance of grass were there, and with two com- p a n i e s he would make his headquar- ters there. r i he other two companies he would send about one hundred miles further east, to the vicinity of Steen’s Mountain, and it was his wish that I should take charge of the scouts and operate between the two camps. \\ ? The Colonel and I talk matters over. 1 88 AT THE DANCE. Notwithstanding I had a good home with Col. Elliott and his wife as long as I wished to remain, it seemed to me that this was the longest and lonesomest week I had ever experienced. Everything being so different from my customary way of living, I could not content myself. The day before I was to start back home it was ar- ranged that I should return to Jim Beckwith’s ranche and keep the Colonel posted by letter in regard to the snow in the mountains, and when he would be able to cross. Then I was to join him at Beckwith’s. The following evening Mrs. Elliott gave a party, which was attended by all the ladies and gentlemen of the garrison. There was to be a general good time, per- haps the last party of the season, as it was approaching the time for preparations for the next campaign against the Indians. When all the guests had arrived and the spacious house was a blaze of light and happiness — fair women smiling and their musical voices fairly making a delight- ful hub-bub of light conversation, and the gentlemen, superb in their gold-trimmed uniforms, or impressive in full evening dress — the manager of the dance sang out for all to take partners for some sort of a bowing and scraping drill that is a mystery to me to this day. I had seen the fandango in Taos, and elsewhere in the Mexican parts of the southwest, but this was the first time I had seen Americans dance, and it was all appallingly new to me. I sat in a corner like a homely girl at a kissing-bee, and had nothing to say. After the crowd had danced about two hours, the SWELL PEOPLE. 189 ' 4 oor manager sang out, “Ladies’ choice!” or something hat meant the same thing, and to my surprise and ter- or, Mrs. Elliott made a bee-line for me and asked me to assist her in dancing a quadrille. I had no more idea of a quadrille than I had of something that was invented yesterday, and I begged her to excuse me, telling her that I knew nothing whatever of dancing. She declared, however, that I had looked on long enough to learn and that I would go through all right. I hung back like a balky horse at the foot of a slippery hill, but between Mrs. Elliott and the prompter I was almost dragged out on the floor. The reader may be able to conceive a faint idea of my situation. I was now twenty- three years old, and this was the first time I had been in civilization since I had left St. Louis, a boy of fifteen. Here I was, among those swell people, gorgeous in “purple and fine linen,” so to speak; ladies in silks, ruffles and quirlymacues, gentlemen in broadcloth, gold lace and importance, and I in only buckskin from head to foot. I would have freely given everything I possessed to have been out of that, but my excuses failed utterly, and finally I went into it as I would an Indian fight, put on a bold front and worked for dear life. I found it quite different to what I had expected. Instead of making light of me, as I feared they would, each lady in the set tried to assist me all she could. When on the floor it seemed to me that every man, woman and child were looking at me, as indeed they were, or rather at my suit of buckskin, that, worked full of beads and porcupine quils, was the most beautiful suit THE DOUBLE-SHUFFLE. 190 of its kind I have ever seen. But it was so different from the dress of the others that it made me decidedly con- spicuous. When on the floor and straightened up I felt as if I were about nine feet high, and that my feet were about twenty inches long and weighed near fifty pounds each. The prompter called out, ‘ 'Balance all!” and I forgot to dance until all the others were most through balanc- ing, then I turned loose on the double-shuffle, this being the only step I knew, and I hadn’t practiced that very much. About the time I would get started in on this step the prompter would call something else, and thus being caught between two hurries I would have to run to catch up with the other dancers. However, with the assistance of Mrs. Elliott, the other good ladies, the prompter, and anybody else in reach, I managed to get through, but I had never gone into an Indian fight with half the dread that I went into that dance, and never es- caped from one with more thankfulness. The following morning, after bidding Col, Elliott, his wife and all the other of my new-found friends good- bye, I started on my return to Beckwith’s ranche, per- fectly willing to resign my high-life surroundings to go back to the open and congenial fields of nature and an indescribable freedom. I found Beckwith suffering severely from an old arrow wound that he had received in a fight with the Utes near Fort Hall in 1848. r PICKING SCOUTS. 191 CHAPTER XIV. Drilling the detailed scouts. — We get among the Utes. — Four scouts have not reported yet. — Another lively fight. — Beckwith makes a raise. It was late spring when the snow began to melt, but it went away very fast when it once started. About the first of June I wrote to Col. Elliott that by the tenth of the month he could cross the mountains. He did not arrive until the 20th of June, then I joined him and we started across the mountains. By direction of the Colonel each of the captains de- tailed four men from their respective companies to be my assistants, and at my suggestion young men were chosen, such as myself, who could ride forty-eight hours, if nec- essary, without stopping, and I asked for men who were not afraid to go alone, not afraid to fight, and, above all, men that would never allow themselves to be taken prisoner. The command having been drawn up for dress parade, the orderly sergeants called their rolls, and whenever a man’s name was called whom the captains wished to de- tail, he was directed to stand aside. Up to this time the men did not know and were wondering what was up. Col. Elliott informed them after the drill was over, and said to them: ‘ ‘Soldiers, this man, Capt. Drannan, is now your 192 ON THE HUNT. chief, and you will act according to his orders « ,v/jy s.tiC all times. He will instruct you when to meet aitn at his private quarters.” ^ The next three days were spent in drilling the scouts to mount and dismount quickly, to shoot at *ome object when on the dead run, to lie on the side of the horse and shoot at an object on the opposite side while running at full speed, and a great deal of other work of that kind. Three days later we started east, \ apt. Milk* and Lieut. Harding with their companies, expecting to go about one hundred miles before locating permanently for the summer. I started out in advance of the command with my entire force of scouts. We traveled ^bout fif- teen miles together, when we separated, four taking the north side of the emigrant trail, with instructions to keep from four to five miles from it; four keeping the trail and four, with myself, south of the trail. I gave the men north instructions in case they should had an Indian trail to follow it until they were sure the Indians were making for the emigrant trail, and then dispatch one man to notify the men on the trail, the other three fol- low the Indians, and at the end of three uays all were to meet at a certain point on the trail where, we expected to meet the soldiers. The second day out we struck an Indian trail south of the road, but it being an old one ve did not follow it but made a note of the number we thought there were in the band, an that night we pulled for the emigrant trail, expecting to meet the soldiers there. We did not meet the soldiers, but met the four scouts who had traveled on the emigrant trail. NO PROVISIONS* 193 We got no word that night from the men north, but according to agreement we went to a hill near by and built two fires of sagebrush, that they might know where we were, and if in need of assistance they could dispatch, but did not see nor hear anything of them. The next morning I kept the emigrant trail myself, sending the other squad of men south, with instructions to meet me at Humboldt Wells, telling them about the distance it was from where we were then camped, and describing the place to to them. There we would wait until the command came up, as we were now running short of rations. That day the party south struck the same trail that we had seen the day before; two of them followed it and the other two came to camp to report. The party that had started out north of the trail got into camp just at dusk, tired and hungry, and the following morning at daylight the other two from the south came into camp. From what I could learn from them the band of Indians they had been following were traveling along almost parallel with the emigrant trail, looking for emi- grants, as it was now getting time that the emigrants were beginning to string along across the plains en-route for the gold fields of California. Our provisions had run out, so we sat up late that night awaiting the arrival of the command, but we looked in vain. The following morning, just as I could begin to see that it was getting a little light in the east, myself and one assistant scout crawled out quietly, without disturb- ing the other boys, to kill some game. We had not gone far from camp when we saw nine antelope; we both fired 194 NEW RECRUITS. and both shot the same antelope. We dressed the game and took it to camp, arriving there just as the other two scouts came in from the south. The boys were all up in camp, and considerable excitement prevailed among them, they having heard two shots, and thought the Indians had attacked us. They were all hungry as wolves, so we broiled and ate antelope almost as long as there was any to eat. Almost the entire scout force were from New York, and were new recruits who had never known what it was to rough it, and they said this was the first meal they had ever made on meat alone. After breakfast was over, it now being understood that we would lie over until the supply train should come up, my first assistant scout and two others took a trip to a mountain some two miles from camp, which was the highest mountain near us, taking my glasses along to look for the supply train. In about two hours one of the scouts returned to camp in great haste and somewhat excited, saying that about fifteen or twenty miles distant they had seen a band of Indians who were traveling in the direction of camp. We all saddled our horses, left a note at camp informing Capt. Mills where we had gone and for what purpose. We started for what has ever since been known as Look- out Mountain — of course not the famous Lookout Moun- tain of Tenneesse — and there joined the other three scouts. From the top of this mountain we could get a good view of the Indians through the field glasses. We watched them until about one o’clock, when they went into camp in the head of a little ravine some five miles distant. This convinced us that there was water and that they A BAND OF UTES. *95 had stopped for the night. We located them as well as we could, and the entire scout force, being thirteen all told, started across the country for their camp. Seven of this number of scouts had never seen a wild Indian and were over anxious to have a little sport with the redskins. The Indians, being in a little ravine, we were able to get within a half a mile of them be- fore they could see us. After advancing as far as we thought prudent, one of the scouts and myself dismounted and crept through the sagebrush within three hundred yards of them. Their fire was yet burning and the In- dians were lounging around, everything indicating that they had just cooked and eaten their dinner. I counted them and made out twenty-one, my assistant scout made twenty-three, and instead of being Pah-Utes, as we ex- pected, they were Utes. The boys all being anxious to try their hand, I decided to make the attack at once. Returning to where I had left the other scouts, I told them my plan of attack, telling them to bear in mind that one shot well calculated was worth three or four at random. I also told them as soon as I gave the war- whoop for each of them to make all the noise he could. Now we all mounted, and by riding up a little ravine we were able to get within fifty rods of them before they could see us. Before making the charge I told the boys to draw their pistols, and when the pistols were emptied to draw sabres and cut the savages down before they could get to their horses. We rode slowly and cautiously until almost in sight of the Indians, when I gave the word ‘ ‘Charge!” and all put spurs to their horses, raised the yell, and one 196 THE BATTLE. minute later we were in their midst, arrows and bullets flying in all directions. I received an arrow wound in the calf of my right leg, the man immediately on my right got shot through the left or bridle arm, and one of the raw recruits got his horse shot from under him. He did not wait for orders, but drew his sabre and went to work cutting them down as he came to them. When we first made the charge some of the Indians made a desperate attempt to get their horses, but the scouts shot and cut them down, not allowing one of them to mount. The Indians, much to my surprise, fought as long as there was one of them left standing. The battle lasted about fifteen minutes, and when it was over we counted the dead Indians and found the number to be nineteen, but there were twenty-one horses, so we were confident that two Indians either escaped or fell in the sagebrush where we could not find them. We gathered up the horses and ropes that belonged to the Indians. The man that had his horse killed in the battle, caught the best horse in the band, threw the saddle on him and started for camp, considering we had done a good day’s work. As we rode down the ravine in the direction of the emigrant trail some of the boys looked in that direction and saw the smoke curling up from a camp-fire. “The command has arrived!” shouted one of the boys. I proposed that we give the Captain a surprise. We all dismounted, and each fastened a scalp to the brow- band of his bridle, and when the Captain saw us coming and saw that each had a scalp, he said: “Boys, let’s One minute later we were in their midst Page 196 Steen's Mountain. 197 give them three cheers.” At that the valley rang out with the yells. This pleased the new recruits that had been engaged in the battle, and I can truthfully say that I never saw the same number of green men equal them in the first engagement, for every one of them fought like heroes. We dismounted, turned our horses over to the herdei and called for supper. This was the first square meal that it had been our pleasure to sit down to for four days, and this was where none of us shrunk from duty, in the least. By this time the wound in my leg was beginning to pain me, and gave me more trouble than I anticipated. The next morning it was badly swollen, and I was not able to ride horseback for several days. That morning we pulled for Steen’s Mountain, which we supposed to be about forty miles from where we were camped. Not being able to ride horseback, I rode in one of the ambulances. From here we kept guards out on each side of the trail, with orders to keep from five to six miles from the train, and if any Indians were seen to report at once. The second day in the afternoon Capt. Mills estab- lished his headquarters about one mile from the trail, in a beautiful spot; plenty of water, an abundance of good grass, and a few pine trees scattered here and there, making it an unusually pleasant place for quarters that summer. Not being able to ride, I stayed in camp, but sent all the other scouts out. The second day my first assistant 198 FOUR SCOUTS LOST. returned and reported having found the trail, as he thought, of about fifty Indians, traveling west, and about parallel with the emigrant trail. The next morning I started my assistant and three scouts after the Indians, with orders to report as soon as they had the redskins located. They were gone four days and no word came from them. I began to be very uneasy, as well as Capt. Mills, thinking something must have happened them or they would have returned, as they only took three days’ ra- tions with them. I took four other scouts and went on their trail. The reader will understand that in this country the soil is somewhat sandy, and a horse is easily tracked. Our horses being shod, it was easy to distinguish their tracks from that of the Indians’ horses. My wound gave me much trouble, but we followed the trail of the other scouts for some distance after striking the trail of the Indians, and their horses being shod, we could easily track them, but finally they became so obliterated that we could see no more trace of the shod horses. We sought in vain to get some sign of them, and came to the conclusion that while the scouts were trailing the In- dians another band had stolen up behind them and either killed or taken them all prisoners, for we could get no trace of them, nor have they ever been heard of since. As soon as I returned to quarters, by the consent of Capt. Mills, I detailed two men of my scout force to carry a dispatch to Col. Elliott. As the Indians were now too far west for Capt. Mills to attempt to follow them, I sent the two best men I had to bear the message ANOTHER BAND. 199 to the Colonel. They made the trip in two nights, rid- ing at night and lying over in the daytime. The next day after the Colonel received the dispatch his scouts discovered the same band of Indians, and Col. Elliott sent one company of soldiers out at once after them The soldiers overhauled them at Clover Valley, which was about forty miles south of the emigrant trail, and attacked the redskins, but they were too much for the soldiers. In the engagement the loss to the command was sixteen men killed, and I never knew just how many were wounded or how many Indians were killed. The soldiers had to retreat. All I ever learned from this battle I learned from the dispatch bearers, as they stayed at Col. Elliott’s quarters until after the soldiers had returned from the engagement From this on I kept scouts out south of the trail con- tinually. One evening one of the scouts came in and reported having seen a little band of Indians some twelve or fif- teen miles south of the trail. The other three scouts that were ou'c with him remained to watch the Indians while he came to report. The scout was not able to tell just the number, as they were some distance away. The other three scouts secreted their horses, crawled to the top of the highest hill near by and lay there in the sage- brush and with glasses watched the Indians, who were traveling almost in the direction where the scouts lay, bearing a little south, so that the scouts did not have to change their hiding place. I mounted my horse for the first time since I had been laid up, and in company with 200 REINFORCEMENTS. five other scouts, including the one who had brought the message to me, started to investigate the matter. We rode to where the other three scouts had been left, and they were awaiting our arrival. They had lain on the hill and watched the Indians go into camp and then returned to where the dispatch bearer had left them. After holding a council for about five minutes we all mounted and rode as near the Indians as we considered safe, and dismounted. Taking another scout who had been watching them, I crawled as near as we dared to their camp to try to ascertain their number. We decided that there were about fifty. It was perilous to get very dose for the reason that the Indians had a number of dogs, and when we would get too near the dogs would begin to bark, and three or four Indians would raise up and look about and every Indian in the band would listen. When we returned to where we had left the other scouts they were all prepared for an attack, but I told them there were too many for us to tackle alone. Be- sides, they were Utes, the worst Indians in the whole country to fight. We were now about fifteen miles from headquarters, so I dispatched two men at once to Capt. Mills in all haste, requesting him to be there by daybreak, if it were within the bounds of possibility. This being a sandy, sagebrush country, one could not ride at full speed, but the scouts made good time, nevertheless, and Capt. Mills and his command were with us before daylight. We met him about a mile from where the Indians were camped, and I told him how the ground lay and the general sur- roundings as best I could, and I suggested that as on ac- THE CHARGE. 201 count of the dogs I had not been able to locate the horses of the Indians, it would be advisable to wait until day- light to make the attack. We waited about an hour, when the Captain said he thought it was light enough to kill Indians. He gave orders to mount, drew his men up in line and rode back and forth, up and down the line, instructing them how to proceed, saying: “When I give the, word, ‘charge!’ every man draw his pistol, and when within fifty yards, begin to fire. Don’t fire at random, but take good aim, and when your pistols are empty draw your sabres and cut them down. Don’t let one escape. Don’t wait for further orders; you have them, now carry them out.” Capt. Mills rode to the left wing and asked me to take the right. I told him I thought it best that myself and the scout force should make a dash for the Indian horses as soon as he made the charge, for if we could succeed in getting the horses we need not let one Indian escape. It was now so light that we could see their ponies on the hill just beyond their camp. All being ready, and I having instructed my assistants, the Captain ordered them to charge. I made a dash to the right with my en- tire scout force. This was a great surprise to the red- skins. They were nearly all abed yet, except a few of the earliest risers. Those who were up made a desperate rush for their horses, but unavailingly. We got there first and stampeded the herd. Some of the horses were pick- eted, but we cut the ropes as fast as we came to them, 202 A PRETTY RACE. and before any of the Indians could get to their horses we had them on the dead run. Taking a circuitous route we drove the horses around the last Indian fall. When it was good light the Indians could be seen lying around in every direction. The or- derly sergeant and two privates were looking around in he sagebrush, thinking there might be some of them aiding there, and all of a sudden two young bucks started up and began to run, and for about three hun- dred yards they had what I thought to be the prettiest race I had ever witnessed. The two Indians on foot and the soldiers on horseback, running through the sage- brush and every man in the crowd, from the Captain Two young bucks started to run. between the scene of bat- tle and head- quarters. When about a mile distant my first as- sistant and myself re- turned to the battle ground leaving the other scouts to guard the horses. We arrived at the scene just in time to see A DAY S REST. 203 down, yelling at the top of his voice. Here I did the poorest shooting that I had ever done in my life, empty- ing one of my revolvers and not touching an Indian. But the soldiers finally got them. We counted the dead braves and found them to be :rty-eight in number. In this engagement Capt. Mills did not lose a man, and only one was wounded. This was the result of making the attack so early in the morning. Had it been later, after the Indians were all up, they would have made a harder fight. The battle being over we all started for headquarters, feeling jubilant over the victory. We reached headquarters at ten o’clock in the morn- ing, after which Capt. Mills told us we had done enough for one day, and that all could take it easy for the rest of the day. The next morning I struck out east on the emigrant trail, sending one man north and one south of the trail, each taking three days’ rations, our object being to meet emigrants, if there were any, and guard them through to Capt. Mills’ quarters, as it was now time for the emigrants to come stringing along; a time that heretofore among the Indians had been con- sidered a harvest in this section of the country. The first day in the afternoon I rode to a high hill, took my glasses, and looking east I saw a train of emigrants stringing along. This was the first train of the season. The scout from the north and also the one from the south had got sight of them, and were pulling for the trail. We pushed on and met the train just as it was pulling into camp. I called for the captain 204 A LARGE TRAIN. and he came forth. I told him we were scouts for Capt. Mills, and were out for the purpose of protecting emi- grants. The captain, as well as the people in the train, were very much pleased to know that they were going to have protect ion after that through the hostile coun- I rode to a high hill-top. try. They had been troubled more or less by Indians all the way through Utah, having a great deal of stock, both horses and cat- tle, stolen by the Indians, as they supposed, but among men who were better informed it was the supposition that they were stolen by white men, for in those days there was a set of white men in Utah much worse than In- lians. On learning that I had been in California they had many questions to ask about the gold fields of that noted country. They were expecting to find gold by the bushel when onc ( e there. This was a large train, there being one hundred and twenty wagons all told. The next morning I sent out r A BEAUTIFUL VALLEY. 205 one of my scouts north of the train, the other one ahead, with instructions to keep from one to two miles in front, and I went south of the trail that day. This was done so that if the scouts should see a large band of Indians they could notify the emigrants and give them a chance to prepare for the battle, but we experienced no trouble on this trip. We were two days traveling from where we met the train to Capt. Mills’ quarters, and from here the Captain sent a sergeant and twenty men to guide the emigrants through to Col. Elliott’s headquarters. This kind of work was kept up for about a month, every week, and sometimes two or three trains of emi- grants would pass by, but we experienced no serious trouble the remainder of the season with Indians. During this summer the officers in looking through their glasses from different high points around, discov- ered a beautiful valley, which we afterwards learned was named Thousand Springs Valley. Capt. Mills came to the conclusion that this valley at this time of the year was headquarters for the Utes, and not thinking the dis- tance was so great sent another scout and myself to in- vestigate. It may be well to mention the fact here, that in these regions the air is so Tariffed and clear that distances are very deceptive, objects appearing to be much closer than they really are. We started with three days’ rations, and on the third day in the afternoon we struck the valley, just at its mouth on the desert, but the water was warm, and we traveled some distance up the valley, finding the springs 20 6 BREAK CAMP. numerous, but all warm. We also found an abundance of grass and plenty of Indian sign, but not fresh. It ap- peared that a large number of Indians had wintered there. After looking the valley over we returned to camp, but by a different route from the one we came. We saw no Indians or fresh sign of them until the second day of the return trip, but about two o’clock we came in sight of four Indians traveling eastward. We tried to attack them, but our horses being much jaded, the Indians out- rode us, so we had to give up the chase. We were of the opinion that the four Indians were scouts for a big band making its way to winter quarters. A short distance north we secreted our horses in a ravine, and watched for the Indians from the top of a high hill until noon the next day, but all in vain, for we did not see an Indian. We returned to camp, our horses worn out and half starved. The part of country we passed over on this trip is now the most northeastern portion of Nevada, and just what it is good for I have never been able to learn. After lying around here watching for emigrants about two weeks longer, and making two different trips east on the emigrant trail, Capt. Mills now concluded that there would be no more emigrants that fall, so we pulled up and moved to Col. Elliott’s quarters. We kept scouts out on the trip, but did not see an Indian or even a fresh trail on the trip. On arriving at Col. Elliott’s quarters I could see that he was not pleased with the way things had gone with his command during the summer. His men had had two engagements during the season, and had got the worst of it both times. A GENERAL SPREE. 207 He had lost twenty-six men, and not a scalp to show for them. Capt. Mills felt quite jubilant. He had over sixty Indian horses that he had captured, over sixty scalps, and had not lost a man, with the exception of the four scouts. Col. Elliott did not have much to say, but the Lieutenant declared that the Colonel was very jealous of Capt. Mills over the past summer’s work. After remaining at headquarters about a week we pulled out across the Sierra Nevada Mountains, along the same route that we had taken the fall before, some- what earlier, and winter not having yet set in, we ex- perienced no trouble, in crossing. The first night we camped at the head of Eagle Valley, and from there to Jim Beckwith’s ranche it was sixty miles. I being over-anxious to see Jim, saddled up my Pinto horse the next morning and started for his place, making the ride in one day. On my arrival I found Jim doing a rushing business in the hotel line, but was just in the act of selling out his hotel to a man from Sacramento. Beckwith had sold all my horses during the summer at what I thought a good figure, having got fifty dollars per head all around. The command came on two days later, pitched thei tents and stayed two days, having a red hot time. Thu men had plenty of money, and Jim Beckwith, who was now running a saloon in connection with his hotel, had plenty of bad whiskey. The Colonel put very little re- striction on his men while they remained there, allowing them to have a general spree, for they had been where 208 GEYSERS. there was no chance to spend their money, and the little they had was burning their pockets. Jim Beckwith made a handsome little clean-up during the two days they were camped there. . When the Colonel was ready to pull out for San Francisco he came to me and invited me to come to the Fort and spend a few months during the winter. I told him I did not know where I would winter, but preferred to seek quarters where I could hunt for a livelihood. I told him I did not wish to put in another winter lounging around as I did the last one. The Colonel made me a proposition to come to the Fort after I had visited my friend, Jim Beckwith, saying that he would organize a hunting .party among the officers and take a trip north of San Francisco on the Russian river. The country to which we wished to go is now So- noma County, Cal., of which Santa Rosa is the county seat. In fact the region is now called Santa Rosa Val- ley, and it is well named, for it is a great garden of roses and other beautiful flowers that grow indigenously and in luxurious profusion. At the head of the valley are the famous geysers of California. The Colonel, after dividing the horses with me, ’ started for the Fort, I agreeing to join him there in a few weeks for the hunt. After remaining at Jim Beckwith’s for a few days, he and a gentleman from Sacramento came to a trade, Jim selling out ‘ ‘slick and clean.” Jim had too much money to stay in the mountains. I saw $12,000 weighed out to him in gold-dust, and ] 209 * ‘GOING TO THE BAY . 9 * don’t know hqw much coin he had, but there were several thousand, dollars of it. “Now we will go to San Francisco for the winter,” said he, “and will have a good time. You stay with me this winter, and it shan’t cost you a cent.” We took our horses and started for Sacramento, making the trip in four days. Here we boarded a boat ‘ * ••• ••• * The Modocs are on the war-path. 486 ride to Jacksonville. days and then fled to the lava beds. This put an end to the horse trading. Mr. Nurse said that some one would have to go to Jacksonville and report at once, for they were not strong enough there io protect themselves against the Modocs, but no one seemed willing to tackle the trip, and I told them that if no one else would go, I would go myself. It was now near sundown, and it was called one hundred miles to Jacksonville from there. I started at once, going part of the way over the wagon road and the remainder of the way on the trail. I arrived at Jacksonville the next morning before sun- up. The first man I met was the sheriff of the county, who was just coming out to feed his horses. I related my story to him in as few words as I could, and told him to raise all the men he could. I had my horse taken care of and went to bed, for I was very tired, with direc- tions to wake me up in time to eat a bite before start- ing. At four o’clock that afternoon they woke me, they having sixty men then ready to start and one hundred ready to follow the next morning. Among the balance who were ready to start was Mr. Miller. When I led my horse out he asked if that was the horse I had ridden over from Linkville. I told him I had nothing else to ride. He went to the stable and got another horse and insisted on my changing my sad- dle, but I told him I would ride my horse to the foot of the mountains and then change, which I did. We reached Linkville the next morning at nine o’clock, and Mr. Nurse gave us breakfast. That after- noon we went down to Tule Lake and buried three dead bodies, being of the Brotherton family, the father and Gen. Wheaton. 487 two sons, and the next day we buried four more, after which I left this squad and returned to my ranch to get my two hired men away, which took me three days. By the time I had got back to Linkville the news had spread all over the country of the outbreak of Captain Jack and the Modoc tribe, and Gen. Wheaton had moved his en- tire force down to the lava beds, where Captain Jack had his forces concentrated. Gen. Ross and Col. Miller had moved in, but I do not know just the exact number of men they had in their command. After this scare I could not get any men to work on the ranch, so I abandoned it for the time being and stayed around Linkville about a week, when I re- ceived a message from Gen. Wheaton to come to his quarters immediately. This message was carried by one of his orderlies. I complied, the orderly returning with me. I was not acquainted with Gen. Wheaton, nor had I ever seen him before. When I was introduced to him he asked me if I knew Captain Jack, chief of the Modoc tribe. I told him that I was well acquainted with him and all of his men. “Now,” said he, 4 ‘I’ll tell you what I wish to see you about. Col. Miller recommends you very highly as a scout, and how would it suit you to take charge of the entire scouting force, and organize them to suit yourself and start in at once?” “I said: ‘ ‘General, I have tried hard to quit that business. In the first start I went at it for the glory in it, but having failed to find that part of it, I have be- come tired. I will not answer you now, but to-morrow morning at nine o’clock I will come to your quarters, at which time I will have my mind thoroughly made 488 meet George Jones, up.” I left his quarters and went over to Col. Miller’s. I told the Colonel that the General had sent for me. He urged me in the strongest terms to take hold of it, say- ing that there was not a practical scout in the entire command. Finally I promised him that I would again enter the scouting field. The next morning I was up early and had breakfast with Col. Miller. After obtaining the pass-word I sad- dled Black Bess, and at nine o’clock was at Gen. Whea- ton’s quarters. I left Black Bess standing about twenty paces from the General’s tent, took one of my gloves and stuck it on a bush, and went in to see Gen. Wheaton. I told him that I had decided to start in scouting for him, and I suppose I was in his tent about half an hour talking matters over about the scouting business. All being un- derstood, I started out to get my mare, and saw quite a crowd had gathered around her, and one man in particu- lar was trying to make up with her. Just as I stepped out of the door I heard him say, “This must surely be Black Bess. I wonder who owns her now. ” And until he called the mare’s name I had not recognized him, and it struck me that it must be George Jones, but not being sure, I said: “Is that you, George?” He said: “Yes, and that’s my old friend Capt. Drannan. ” This was a surprise to us both. It was the first time that we had met since we separated at San Francisco in the fall of 1866, at which time we had both decided to quit fight- ing Indians, but here we both were again in the field. After a good square shake and giving a hasty synopsis of our experiences during the time we bad been separated, Chief Joseph and His Warriors on Nez P < CHIEF OF SCOUTS. 489 George asked if I was going into the scouting field again. I told him that I had just accepted a position as chief of scouts with Gen. Wheaton. I then asked him what he was doing for a livelihood. He said that he had joined the Oregon Volunteers, and asked me if I did not think I could get him relieved. “For,” said he, “I would rather work with you than any one else. We have been to- gether so much we understand each other.” He told me his Captain’s name and that he belonged to Col. Miller’s regiment. I did not lose any time in seeing Col. Miller and telling him that I would like very much to have him relieve George Jones from his com- mand, as I must have him for my first assistant. This was the first time that Col. Miller had heard of George Jones being a scout, and he wrote out the release at once and went out and had Gen. Ross sign it and gave it to me. George and I went to work at once to organize our scouting company, drawing our men mostly from the vol- unteers. About the time that we were thoroughly organ- ized it was reported that the Pah-Utes and the Klamaths were all coming to join Captain Jack. This lava bed where Captain Jack was fortified, was sixty miles from the Klamath reservation, but the Pah-Utes were one hundred and fifty miles away, and it both surprised and amused me when those old officers would tell me that they expected the Pah-Utes any time. Being afraid of an attack from the rear, we had to scout a strip of coun- try about forty miles long every day, and all the argu- ments that I could produce were of no avail. After going through this routine for about a month Gen. Wheaton 49 ° THE ATTACK ON concluded to take Captain Jack by storm. Captain Jack was there, and had been all the time, in what was called his stronghold in the lava bed, being nothing more or less than a cave in the rocks, sixty yards long, and from ten to thirty feet wide, there being one place in the east side where a man could ride a horse into it, and numer- ous places where a man could enter with ease. Down on the east and south sides are numerous holes in the rock just large enough to shoot through. Captain Jack had his entire force in there, had killed all of his horses and taken them in there for meat, and through the Kla- math Indians had got a good supply of ammunition. After Gen. Wheaton had made up his mind to take the stronghold by storm, he asked if I could give a dis- cretion of the place. Up to this time there had not been a shot fired at the soldiers by the Indians, and I bad a number of times passed in gunshot of the main en- trance, and I know that the Indians had recognized me, but because I had befriended them they would not shoot at me. I drew a diagram of the cave in the best style that I could, showing the main entrance and the natural port holes, and when I submitted it to the General, I said: “General, you can never take Captain Jack as long as his ammunition lasts, for he has the same kind of guns that you have, and the majority of his men have pistols also, and all that he will have to do is to stand there and shoot your men down as fast as they can come.” But the General thought different. The day was set for the attack, and on Wednesday morning the storm was to commence. The army had its camp one mile r Jack’s stronghold. 491 from Jack’s stronghold, so the soldiers did not have far to march. About sunrise the whole command marched down and turned loose on Jack, and were soon bombard- ing him in great shape. This was kept up for three days and nights, when Gen. Wheaton withdrew, having lost sixty men and something over twenty wounded, as I was told by Col. Miller afterwards, but Jack did not come out. A short time after this Gen. Canby came over and took the entire command. He brought with him a min- ister by the name of Col. Thomas. The second day after Gen. Canby arrived he asked Gen. Wheaton, in the presence of quite a number of officers, how many men Captain Jack had with him. Gen. Wheaton said: “My chief scout could tell just the number that he has, but I think some sixty-three or sixty-four warriors.” “And you had fifteen hundred men in that three days’ fight?” Gen. Wheaton said he had. “And you got whipped? There was bad manage- ment somewho'e,” said Canby; and he concluded he would tak// Captain Jack by storm, but post- poned it for a month, this bringing it into the foggy weather in t hdi country, and in that time of the year it is the foggiest country I ever saw. I have seen it for a week at a time in the lava bed that I could not tell an Indian from a rock when twenty paces away. And this was the kind of weather Gen. Canby was waiting for. Ke marched down to the lava bed and placed his how- itzer on the hill about a quarter of a mile from Jack’s 492 ANOTHER ATTACK. stronghold and commenced playing the shell. This was done in order to give the infantry a chance to march down to the main entrance of the cave and there shoot the Indians down as fast as they came out. Three days and nights this was kept up, but not an Indian came out, and Gen. Canby drew off, losing over one hundred men killed, but I never knew the exact number wounded. When Gen. Canby found he could not take the Mo- docs by storm, he sent to Yreka, Cal., for a man named Berry, who was a particular friend of Jack’s, or rather Jack was a particular friend to him. On Mr. Berry’s arrival at headquarters Gen. Canby asked him if he thought he dare go to Captain Jack’s stronghold. Mr. Berry replied that he would provided that he went alone. I never knew just what Mr. Berry’s instructions were, but, however, I accompanied him to within two hundred paces of the main entrance to the cave, in order to direct him to the proper place, and he chose his time to go after dark. I remained there until after he returned, which was before midnight. A few days later I learned that there was to be a council meeting between Gen. Canby, Rev. Col. Thomas and Captain Jack, and in a conversation with Col. Miller he asked me my opinion in regard to the matter. I told him that I did not understand all the particulars, as I had heard but little about it. He then told me that Gen. Canby and Col. Thomas, with George Meeks as interpreter for them, and Meek’s squaw as interpreter for Captain Jack, were to meet Jack next Sunday morning for the purpose of effecting a treaty A CONFERENCE. 493 with the Modoc tribe, they to meet Jack at a certain place, without escort or side arms. After the Colonel had told me of the council and manner in which they were to meet Captain Jack, I said: “Colonel, do you really believe they will go?” “Go,” he replied. “Gen. Canby will go if he lives till the time appointed for the meeting.” I could not think that, Canby would do such a thing, and I told Col. Miller that there was one thing he could depend upon, if they went in that manner they would never return alive. I also told him I did not consider Mr. Berry showed good judgement in letting Captain Jack choose his own ground for the council and agreeing to meet him without escort or side arms. That afternoon Gen. Wheaton sent for me, and I re- sponded to the call at once. When I arrived at the General’s camp he opened the conversation by saying: “Captain, have you heard of the meeting that is to take place between Gen. Canby and Captain Jack?” I said: “No, General, I had heard nothing of it.” This being a little white lie, for it had been told me in confidence by Col. Miller. I asked what the object of the meeting was, and when and where it was to be. He said it was for the purpose of effecting a treaty with Captain Jack, and was to be held in a little glade or opening on the other side of Dry Lake canyon, this being about one mile south of headquarters, and within a quarter of a mile of Captain Jack’s stronghold. Said he: “Gen. Canby and Rev. Col. Thomas, accompanied by George Meeks and his squaw as interpreters, are to 494 GIVE ADVICE. meet Captain Jack there without escort or even side arms. Now, Captain, tell me seriously, what you think of this affair.” I said: ‘ 'General, they may go, but they will never return.” The General then asked me if I would have a talk He opened the conversation. with Gen. Canby. I told him that if Gen. Canby asked for my opinion in the matter I would give iL just as frankly as I would to you, otherwise I had nothing to say, for Gen. Canby was a man that seemed to feel too much elevated to speak to a scout, except just to give orders. Gen. Wheaton told me that he would see Gen. Indian up a tree. 495 Canby himself and have a talk with him. This was on Friday previous to the Sunday on which they were to meet in council. In the afternoon of the same day it was reported that there had been Indians seen along Tule Lake. I mounted my horse and started with a platoon of soldiers and a sergeant, and when we had advanced about twelve miles I was riding about two hundred yards in advance I saw something dodge into a bunch of sarvis brush. Beckoning to the sergeant, he dashed up to my side and said: 4 ‘What’s up, Captain?” “I got a glimpse of something just as it ran into that patch of brush, and I think it was an Indian.” He had his men surround the brush and I went to scare the Indian out. I searched that patch of brush thoroughly, but could find no Indian or anything else, and the boys all enjoyed a hearty laugh at my expense. The sergeant proposed that we all have a smoke, so we turned our horses loose to graze. The sergeant lit his pipe, threw off his overcoat and laid down to rest. As he cast his eyes heavenward in the direction of the top of the only pine tree that stood in that patch of brush, he exclaimed: “Captain, I have found your In- dian.” Of course we all commenced looking for the Indian, and I asked where he was, whereupon he told me to look up in the pine tree, and on looking I beheld an Indian with whom I was well acquainted, as he had been to my ranch several times in company with Captain Jack. I asked him to come down, telling him that I would protect him if he would, but he would not utter a word. 496 ANXIOUS TO SEE. nor would he come down. I tried for at least a haL hour to induce him to come down until I had exhausted all the persuasive powers I possessed, but to no avail. I told the sergeant that I had treed his Indian, and now he could do as he pleased with him, and the ser- geant ordered him shot down, after which we returned to headquarters, this being the only Indian seen on the trip. The next morning Gen. Wheaton sent for me to come to his quarters, which I did, and in a conversation with him he asked me if I was still of the same opinion con- cerning the council meeting as when I talked with him before. I told him that I was, that I had not seen or heard anything to change my mind in the least. He then said: “I had a conversation with Gen. Canby and Rev. Col. Thomas, and Col. Thomas scoffs at the idea you advance, claiming that they were going in a good cause, and that the Lord would protect them. ,, I told the General that George Jones and I were going to see that meeting. He said that would not do, for it was strictly forbidden. I assured the General that I would not break any rules, but that I would see the meeting. I had given my scouts their orders until ten o’clock the next day, and when dark came Jones and I were going to the bluff on this side of the canyon and there secrete ourselves, where, with a glass, we could see the whole proceeding and not be discovered by the Indians. The reader will understand that a scout is, in a cer- tain measure, a privileged character. As soon as it was dark Saturday evening George and I went to the place mentioned and remained there until THE MEETING. 497 the time arrived for the meeting. About nine o’clock that morning the fog raised and the sun shone brightly, §£ 6 making it one of the most pleasant morn- ings we had ex- perienced for some time, thereby giving us a good view of the grounds of the proposed meeting, and we could see Cap- tain Jack and another Indian there waiting. I l , could recognize Jack’s features through the glass, but the other Indian I could not. In a short time we saw Gen, Canby, Col. Thomas, George Meeks and his squaw coming. When they reached the lower end of the little opening one hundred and fifty yards from where Captain Jack was standing, they dismounted, tied their horses and walked slowly in the direction where Captain Jack was standing, and every few steps Gen. Canby would look back, apparantly to see if any one was fol- They shook hands with Captain Jack. 498 PEACE COMMISSION MURDERED. lowing them. On arriving at the spot they shook hands with Captain Jack and the other Indian, and probably fifteen minutes elapsed when Captain Jack dropped his blanket from his shoulders to the ground and suddenly turned and picked it up. This, I believe, was a signal for an attack, for the next moment I saw smoke from a number of guns from the rocks and could hear the reports also. Col. Thomas, Meeks and his squaw started on the run, but Gen. Canby fell in his tracks, a victim at the hands of Captain Jack and his followers. Col. Thomas only ran about ten steps, when he fell. Meeks ran nearly one hundred yards, when he fell, and the squaw escaped unhurt, but badly scared, I presume. As soon as Gen. Canby had fallen George Jones asked if he had better go to headquarters and give the alarm. I told him to go with all possible speed. George reached camp twenty minutes ahead of me. The other officers could not believe that he was telling the truth, but when I arrived and told them that the entire crowd had been killed, with the exception of the squaw, they were thunderstruck, and by the time I was through tell- ing them the squaw was there. I do not know just how many soldiers were sent to recover the dead bodies, but that day there was a gen- eral attack made on Captain Jack, which was kept up from day to day almost as long as the war lasted. When it was foggy, as it was nearly all the time, the Indians almost invariably got the best of the soldiers, from the fact that they would come out without any clothing on their bodies with a bunch of sage-brush tied on their heads, and their skins being so similar in color . Wheaton dashed up to my side and said: “Where can those Indians be?” Page 499 SOLDIERS ATTACKED. 499 v to that of the lava rocks, that when the fog was thick, at a distance of thirty or forty yards, it was impossible to distinguish an Indian from a rock. There were more or less soldiers killed and wounded every day until the end of the war. One day only a short time after the assasination of Gen. Canby and Col. Thomas, the soldiers were attacked in Dry Lake canyon by the Modocs and were getting badly butchered up. As I rode along Gen. Wheaton dashed up by my side and said: “Where can those Indians be and what kind of guns have they? I have been losing men all day and there has not been an Indian seen.” I told the General I would try and locate them and let him know just where they were. Taking George Jones and another man by the name of Owens with me, I rode around on the op- posite ridge, dismounted, and leaving my horse with the other boys, I crawled down among the rocks. I had on a buckskin suit and could not be seen much easier than a Modoc when in the lava beds. They kept up a con- tinual firing, and now and then I could hear a bullet whiz near me. After I had crawled about sixty yards as cau- tiously as I could I raised on one knee and foot and my gun was resting across my leg while I was peering through the fog to see if I could get sight of any Indians, and listening to see if I could hear an Indian’s voice. I had remained in this position about five minutes when a ball struck me on the shin-bone, just below the boot top. It appeared to me that I could have heard it crack at a hundred yards. Never before in my life had I expe- rienced such a miserable feeling as at that time. I 500 AM WOUNDED. thought that my leg was broken into atoms. I started to crawl back up the hill, taking the same route that 1 had come down, and when I had ascended the hill near enough to the boys so they could see me, George Jones saw that I was hurt. He dropped his gun and ran to me at once and said: ‘‘Captain, are you badly hurt?” But before I had time to answer him he had picked me up bodily and was run- ning up the hill with me. When he got to where our horses were he said: “Where are you shot?” I said: “George, my left leg is shot off.” “What shall we do?” said George. I told him to put me on Johnny, that being the name of my horse, and I would go to headquarters. He said: “Let me pull your boot oft,” at the same time taking hold of my boot. I Caught my leg Peering out into the fog. with both hands to hold the bones together while the boot was being re- moved from the leg, thinking that the bone was shattered LOST A SCOUT. 501 into small pieces. As soon as George had succeded in removing my boot from my foot, he turned the top of the boot downward to let the blood run out of it. 4 ‘Why,” said he, 4 ‘your leg is not bleeding at all.” I then commenced feeling my leg, but could not feel or hear any bones work, so by the assistance of George I got my breeches-leg up and there the ball stuck just be- tween the skin and the bone of my leg, and the boys had a good laugh at my expense. When I had learned that my leg was not broken, George and I crawled down together into the canyon, and located the Indians. We got so near that we could see the flash from their guns through the fog. We then ascended the hill, mounted our horses, rode back and re- ported to Gen. Wheaton. But the Indians had the ad- vantage over the soldiers from the fact that the soldiers’ clould be easily distinguished from the rocks. About one we.ek later, George Jones, a young man named Savage, and myself, went on just such another trip. It was our custom when going into the canyon to leave one man in charge of our horses until we returned, and in this case we left Savage with three saddle horses and instructions to remain there until we returned. On our return we found poor Savage mortally wounded, and he only lived a few minutes. He had two balls through his body. It seemed that he had tied the horses and come to the top of the hill to look for us or to warn us of danger, and while there had been shot down by the Indians. This was the first scout I had lost since I had en- tered the scouting field at this place. By the assistance 502 THE SUPPLY TRAIN. of Jones I got the body on my horse in front of me and carried it to headquarters and reported to Gen. Ross, who was acquainted with Savage’s family, and he sent the body to Jacksonville for interment. A few days later, George, myself and four assistants started out to meet a pack-train that was coming in from Yreka, Cal., with supplies. We met the train twelve miles from headquarters and told the man in charge that he would either have to cross the lava beds or go around forty miles. He decided to take chances in crossing the lava beds in preference to going so far around. We told him that he would be running a great risk, for we were satisfied that Jack was running short of provisions and that he had men out all the time foraging, and we knew that if the Indians happened to discover this train they would make a desperate effort to capture it, or at least a part of it. There were fifty animals in the train and only three men. When we started across the lava beds I took the lead, and George and our other men in the rear. In case of an attack on either, he was to fire two shots in quick succession as a signal for assistance, for the fog was almost thick enough that day to cut in slices with a knife. The man in charge of the train started a young man ahead with me to lead the bell-horse, placing an- other young man about the center of the train. It was a miserably rough country across these lava beds, and we had to travel very slowly. The man in charge dropped back in the rear of the train, thinking that if we were attacked it would be at the rear. Chief Joseph’s Camp on the Nez Perce k< THE PROVISION TRAIN. 503 The reader will understand that in crossing this hell- hearth it was necessary for the pack-animals to string out single file. CHAPTER XXXVII. The cry of a babe. — Capture of a bevy of squaws. Treachery of Gen. Ross’ men in killing prison- ers. — Capture of the Modoc Chief. When we were across the lava beds, or “Devil’s Gar- den,” as the place was commonly called, I told the man who was leading the bell-horse to stop and wait until the other animals had come up in order to see whether we had lost any. This was within a mile of headquarters. The man in charge, also Jones and the other scouts, came up, but the young man who had been riding in the middle, also four mules and their packs, as the saying is, “came up missing.” The train went on to headquarters, but Jones and I returned along the trail to see if we could find the miss- ing man. One of us, however, had to leave the trail and scout along on foot. 5°4 STONED TO DEATH. After following the back-track two miles I found where the four mules had left it. It was now late in the evening, and we were within less than a mile and a half of Captain Jack’s stronghold. We tied our horses there and started out, caring but little about the mules and their packs; it was the man that we were looking after. We had not gone more than fifty yards from the trail when we found the body. The poor fellow had been stoned to death, his head being beaten out of shape. This the Indians had done to prevent an alarm. They had evidently been hidden in the lava rocks and had managed to turn those lour mules from the trail, and the fog being so thick that a person could not see any distance, the man did not notice that he was off of the trail until too late; and 'when once off the trail a few paces it was impossible for him to get back again. The mules and packs were never seen again. The Indians, no doubt, took them to the cave, used the provisions, killed and ate the mules and saddle horse which the man was riding. We took the body to headquarters, and the next day it was started to Yreka, Cal. I do not remember the name of this young man, but he lived near Yreka. Gen. Wheaton was now fighting the Indians every day, and at night kept a strong picket guard around the cave. About this time it was reported that Gen. Whea- ton had received orders to take Captain Jack if he had to exterminate the entire tribe. The feeling was getting to be very strong against Captain Jack in regard to the assassination of Gen. Canby, Col. Thomas and George Meeks, tbe interpreter. STARVING THEM OUT. 505 One evening in a conversation with Gen. Wheaton he asked me how long I thought it would take to starve them out. I said: 4 ‘General, if they took all their horses in the cave, which I believe they did, and we know for a fact that they got some cattle from the Klamath river, I think it will be May or June before you will be able to starve them out.” He said that every Indian that came out of the cave single-handed or otherwise would not live to get through the picket line, saying that he had a double picket line now around the entire cave, both day and night. The next morning after this conversation with the General, one of my scouts came in from Rattlesnake Point and reported having seen the tracks of twenty In- dians, where they had crossed the road on the east side of the lake, and they were all small tracks. I reported this to the General, telling him that Jack was a pretty smart Indian, for he was sending his women and children away so as to make his provisions last as long as possible. George Jones and I started out, accompanied by two platoons of soldiers, to capture the Indians. We had no trouble in finding their trail, and in running them down. It so happened that our escort that day were all Gen. Ross’ men and were all friends to young Savage, who had recently been killed by the Modocs. After following the trail about ten miles we came in sight of the Indians on Lost river. We did not see them until we were near them and had no trouble in capturing the whole outfit. There were twenty-two, all squaws and little girls. I was personally acquainted with all of those Indians, and 506 CAPTURE THE SQUAWS. knowing so well the cause of all this trouble, and just what brought it about, I could not help sympathizing with the women and children. In fact, I had felt from the very start that this trouble was all uncalled for. Among the crowd was one young squaw who spoke pretty fair English for an Indian in those days. I was well acquainted with her, and told her that we would have to take them all, but that they would be treated as prison- ers. She did not seem to understand the meaning of ‘ ‘prisoners. ” I explained to her, and she in her own tongue ex- plained i# t to the rest of the crowd. I told her that we would have to take them back to headquarters. She said: “We heap hungry, long time no eat much. Maby white man no give us anything to eat. ’Spose no eat purty soon all die.” I assured her that they would have plenty to eat as long as they behaved themselves and gave the soldiers no trouble. They all seemed to be perfectly willing to surrender and go back to headquarters, so we started back via Tule Lake. When we reached the mouth of Lost river I turned the prisoners over to the two sergeants who had charge of the two platoons of soldiers. George and I wanted to make a circuit around in the direction of Clear Lake, thinking, of course, that the prisoners would be perfectly safe in charge of the soldiers, especi- ally those little girls. George and I did not get to head- quarters that night until ten o’clock, and the first thing I heard when I got into camp was that the Indians had tried to run off into the tules while coming down Tule Lake, and they had all been shot down by the soldiers. Modoc Braves Taken Prisoners by Capt. W. F. Drannan. PRISONERS SHOT. 507 I went at once to see Gen. Ross relative to the matter, for I could not believe it. The General confirmed the re- port by saying every one of them had been shot. I said: “General, that is the most cowardly piece of work I ever heard white men accused of in my life. Will you please tell the men who did that cowardly piece of work, that they had better never be caught out with me when I have the best of it, for I would much prefer shooting such men down, to shooting helpless women and children.” This conversation caused a great deal of talk of a court-martial, but it all blew over, I suppose, on account of Captain Jack murdering Gen. Canby. The next con- versation I had with Gen. Wheaton, I asked why the picket guard let those Indians pass through the picket line, and speaking as though I thought they had passed boldly out through the line; he said: “I cannot see into it myself.” I said: “General, that is the way the Indians will all get out of there, and at the final surrender you will not have six warriors in the cave. From this on you will find that they will gradually desert Jack, for the squaws told me that they were getting very hungry.” It was reported around that Captain Jack and three other Indians would be hung if caught alive, this being the orders from headquarters. The other three were Schonchin, Scarfaced Charlie and Shacknasty Jim, these being Jack’s council or under chiefs. When this report came, Gen. Wheaton told me that if it was necessary he would make another detail of scouts, for he would not under any consideration have the Indians escape. I told the General to give himself 508 THE SCOUTS BUSY. no uneasiness in regard to that part of it, for we would run down all the Indians that crossed the picket line, but I must know what I should promise a prisoner when I captured him. I asked if I should promise them protec- tion or not, for if there was no protection, I would not bring them in. He assured me that all prisoners caught after this would be protected as prisoners of war until tried and proven guilty. What the General meant by that was those who might be proven guilty of being directly interested in the murder of Gen. Canby and Col. Thomas. I now put George Jones on the night shift. He hac the entire charge of night scouting, and he and his assist- ants rode all night long. In the morning I started out with my assistants and rode all day; so it was impossible for the Indians to get out and away without our getting track of them, and if they left a track we were sure to capture them. We kept this up for about three weeks, when I made a change; George and I doing the night scouting alone, and leaving the day scouting for the other scouts. One night we were out near Dry Lake, about five miles from headquarters, and there came up a cold fog. We built a little fire to warm by, and shortly after we had started it we heard what an inexperienced man would have called two cayotes, but we knew they were Indians and were in different directions and this was their signal for meeting. We mounted our horses and rode in the opposite direction, but before we left we gave a yelp in a laugh- ing sort of manner to make the Indians believe that we SHOT TWO MODOCS. 509 thought it was cayotes. We rode quietly away about three hundred yards from the fire, dismounted, tied our horses and crawled back near the fire. All this time the Indians had kept up their cayote barking and were draw- ing near the fire. It was some little time before they dared approach, but after they had looked carefully around, I suppose they thought it had been campers who had stopped, built a fire and then pulled out, for it was not the custom of scouts to build a fire, which the In- dians well knew, they finally ventured up to the fire and were warming themselves. Seeing that they were both armed with rifles, and the chances were they both had pistols, we made up our minds not to take any chances, so I proposed to George that we should shoot them down, just as they would have done us if we had not under- stood their signal. Of course if it had been daylight it would have been quite different, but three jumps away from the fire and they would have been safe from us. We were sitting side by side not more than forty yards from them. I told George to take the one on the right and I would take the one on the left, and when he gave the word I would fire with him. We raised our guns, and when he gave the word we both fired, and the two Indians fell to the ground. We waited about five minutes to see whether they would rise or not, and believing we had killed them both, we approached them. One of them was dead and the other was just about dead, so we took their guns and pistols and reported to Gen. Wheaton. The next morning he said it was a mystery how the 5io THE CRY OF A BABE. Indians would get out and the men on picket would not see them. He said: “I cannot see through it.” About a week or ten days later George and I were coming in just before daylight, when we heard a baby cry on the hillside only a short distance from us. We stopped and listed until we had located it. George dis- mounted, and I held his horse while he crawled up to see where it was, and found that there was quite a number of squaws and children there. I told him that it would be a matter of impossibility for them to get away from us and the grass so high, for we could track them easily, so I left him there to keep watch and see which way they moved so that we would know how to start after them, and I would ride to headquarters, about two miles away, for assistance to help capture them when it was daylight. I rode slow until so far away that I knew they could not hear the clatter of my horse’s feet, and then I put spurs to my horse and rode with all speed to headquarters. When I passed the camp guard he challenged me and I gave my name. I could hear it carried down the line from one to another, '‘There comes the Captain of the Scouts, there is something up.” Rather than wake up a commissioned officer, I woke up my entire scout force, and was back to where George Jones was just at day- light. He said that the squaws had moved in the direc- tion of Clear Lake. There was a heavy dew and we had no trouble in finding their trail and following it; in fact, at times we could ride almost at full speed and follow without difficulty. We had only gone about four miles when we came in sight of them, six squaws, a little boy, a little girl and a baby. When they saw me coming they THE FIRST PRISONERS. 511 all stopped. I rode up and asked them where they were going. They could all speak a little English. There was one in the crowd named Mary, with whom I was well acquainted, who said: “We heap hungry, too much hungry, we go Clear Lake catch fish.” I told her that we would have to take them prisoners and take them all back to headquarters and keep them there until we got all the Modoc Indians and then they would have to go on to the reservation. “No, too much hungry, you all time fight Captain Jack, Injun no catch fish. All time eatem hoss. No more boss now; Injun eatem all up, eatem some cow too. No more hoss, no more cow. Injun all heap hungry.” It was some time before I could make them believe that they would be fed when at headquarters, but they being acquainted with me and knowing that I had been a friend to them in time of peace. I finally succeeded in getting them to turn and go to headquarters. These were the first prisoners that had been taken to the Gen- eral’s quarters during the Modoc war. Gen. Wheaton was away from his quarters, so I left the prisoners in charge of George Jones and the other scouts, with instructions to let no one interfere with them while I went to hunt the General. I soon found him and with him returned to where the Indians were. The General asked me to question the one of them that talked the best English and had done the most talking, concerning the number of men that Captain Jack had in his stronghold. When I asked her she said: “Some days twenty men, some days thirty men, no more, some go away. No more come back, some 512 SAW THREE TRACKS. shoot, by and by he die. Two days now me not eat. Injun man, he no eat much.” From this we inferred that they only had a little pro- visions left, and the men that did the fighting did the eat- ing also. They were given something to eat at once^ and I don’t think I ever saw more hungry mortals. 1 told the General that it would not be long until they would all come out, but that I did not think they would come in a body, but would slip out two or three at a time. The General thought it so strange that they were stealing out through the picket lines and the guards not seeing any of them. Some three weeks later than this, it being about the first of June, 1873, George and I had been out all night and were coming into quarters, being a little later this morning than common, and when we were within about one and a half miles from quarters we crossed the trail of three Indians. I got down and examined the tracks closely; there was one track quite large and long, an- other not quite so large and the third was quite small. I told George I was not afraid to bet twenty dollars that they were the tracks of Captain Jack, his wife and little girl. We pushed on to headquarters with all possible speed and reported to Gen. Wheaton, He asked my reason for thinking that it was Captain Jack. I told him from the fact that it suited for his family. I was well acquainted with both him and his squaw, and I told the General that Jack himself had an unusually long foot. He asked how much of an escort I wanted and if I would go at once. I told him I would, and I wanted two pla- toons. He directed his orderlies to report as soon as ON THE TRAIL 513 possible with two platoons of cavalry, and I gave my horse to George, telling him to change our saddles to fresh horses at once. As soon as it was noised around that we had got track of Captain Jack, the scouts all wanted to accompany me, but I told them that their ser- vices could not be dispensed with at camp for one hour, for it was getting now where the the thing must be watched very closely. George rode up on a fresh horse and was leading Black Bess with my saddle on her. I mounted and we were off again in pursuit of Captain Jack, but as we rode away Gen. Wheaton expressed him- self as being doubtful as to its being Captain Jack. When we struck the trail of the three Indians, I had one platoon to ride on each side of the trail, keeping about fifty yards away from it, and in case we should miss it or get off, we would have a chance to go back and pick it up again before it would become obliterated. This was one of the prettiest mornings that we could have had for the occasion. The fog disappeared with the rising of the sun, and in many places we could look ahead and see the trail in the grass for fifty yards. In those places we put our horses down to their utmost. George and I were both very hungry, having had nothing to eat since the evening before, and we had been in the saddle all night, but an old scout forgets all this when he gets on a fresh Indian trail and becomes somewhat ex- cited. After we had gone about six miles we came to a gravel country for a mile and a half, and it was slow and tedious tracking across this, for many times we had noth- ing to go by only as they might turn a little pebble over with their feet or step on a little spear of grass and mash 5M Captain Jack captured. it down, and this was very thin and scattering on the ridge. However, as soon as we were across the gravelly ridge, we again struck grass and we let our horses out almost at full speed, knowing very well that as soon as the dew dried off it would be slow and tedious tracking. After we had ridden about twelve miles, and just as we raised the top of the hill, on looking across on the next ridge we saw the three Indians, and sure enough, it was Captain Jack, his squaw and little girl. About thisdime he turned and saw us coming. He stood and looked at us for a moment or so and the three all turned and started back to meet us. We both pulled our pistols and dashed up to him at full speed. TAKEN TO HEADQUARTERS. 5*5 • When we were close enough, I could see that he had a smile on his face, and I knew that he had recognized me. When we rode up to him he said: “Good mornin. Long time no see you,” and at the same time presented the gun with the breech foremost. As I took the gun, I said to him: “Jack, where are you going?” He replied: “O, heap hungry, guess go Clear Lake catch fish.” I said: “No, Jack; you are my prisoner. I will have to take you back to Gen. Wheaton.” He replied: “No, me no want to go back, no more fight, too much all time hungry, little girl nearly starve, no catch fish soon he die.” But when he saw that he had to go, he said: All right, me go.” So I took the little girl up behind me, and George took the squaw up behind him and Jack walked. It was in the afternoon when we returned to head- quarters with the prisoners, and there was no little re- joicing among the soldiers when they learned for a cer- tainty that I had taken Captain Jack prisoner. That afternoon a runner was started to Yreka with a dispatch to headquarters to the effect that Gen. Wheaton had takeu the notorious Captain Jack pris- oner. As a matter of fact, an old scout is never known in such cases. They, as a general rule, do the work, but the officers always get the praise. Although Gen. Wheaton had the praise of capturing Captain Jack, he had but little more to do with it than the President of the United States. STORY OF THE CAPTURE. 5i6 CHAPTER XXXVIII. DRY OF THE CAPTURED BRAVES. WHY CAPTAIN JACK DESERTED. LOATHSOME CONDITION OF THE INDIAN STRONGHOLD. END OF THE WAR. SOME COMMENTS. That evening I had a long conversation with Captain Jack, and from him I learned the exact number of Indians in the cave. He said there were twenty women, and maybe thirty children and twenty-two war- riors. He said they would not stay there long for they had nothing to eat, and their ammunition was nearly gone. I must admit that when I learned Jack’s story of the way that he had been both driven and pulled into this war, which I knew to be a fact myself, I was sorry for him. He said that after the Indian agent would not send them anything to eat he was forced to go away from the reservation to catch fish to keep his people from starv- ing, for which purpose he was at the mouth of Lost rivet vhen the soldiers came there. One morning before the soldiers fired on him without even telling him to return to the reservation or giving him any warning whatever. He said that he did not give orders for his men to kill any white men that morning, but they all got very angry at the soldiers for shooting at them. '‘That day,” said r CEASED FIRING. 517 he, “I go to lava bed, my men scout all over country, kill all white men they see.” After I was through talking with Jack, Gen, Whea- ton sent for me to come to his quarters, as he was anx- ious to learn what information I had obtained. When I told him the number of Indians yet in the cave and that they had nothing to eat, he asked me what would be my plan for capturing the remainder. I told him that if I was doing it, I would capture the entire outfit without losing a single man, but that it would take a little time; that I would not fire on them at all, but would double the picket line, and it would not be many days until they would surrender, and in case some of them did slip by the guards, we would pick them up before they got twenty miles away. The following morning a council was held in camp, and all the commissioned officers were present. Now Captain Jack had been captured, and according to re- ports, the other Indians were nearly starved out, so that morning they did not open out on them at all. The third day from this it was reported by a citizen who had passed over the country that day, that he saw Indians up on Tule Lake. It being late in the afternoon, nearly dark in fact, when I heard the report and it not being from a scout, I questioned closely the man who was said to have seen them, but did not get much satifaction from him, so naturally discredited the report. But for fear there might be some truth in it, the next morn- ing by daybreak George Jones and I were scouring the country in the vicinity of Tule Lake. After having ridden some little distance we ran upon the trail of six Indians, 5i8 CAPTURE SIX MORE. who as we supposed had passed the evening before, and were evidently plodding along in the direction of Lost river. This was without doubt the trail of four bucks and two squaws. After we had followed this trail a few miles we found where they had stopped, built a fire, caught, cooked and ate some fish. We knew they were not many miles ahead of us, in fact, the fire had not en- tirely gone out. From here on we had plain sailing, and the nearer an old scout gets when on the trail of an In- dian the more anxious he gets, so we sped along up the lake four miles further, and were on them before they knew it; they were all on the banks of the river fishing. In this outfit there were Scarfaced Charley and Black Jim, their squaws, and two other Indians. The moment we saw them we both drew our pistols, but concealed them from their view by hiding them under our coats. When we approached them they all said, “Good morn- ing.” I did not see any guns near them nor did either of them have pistols. Scarfaced Charley said: “We like go reservation; too much hungry, my squaw nearly dead, ketchem some fish her, purty soon go.” After I had informed him that I would have to take them all back to Gen. Wheaton’s quarters, Charley said: ‘.‘What for?” I said: “Charley, I will take you all back to headquarters, give you all plenty to eat, and when we get all the Modoc Indians they will be taken to the reservation.” “All right, me go now,” said Charley, as he started, eager to be off on the journey for head- quarters. I asked them where their guns and pistols were, and ON BAD TERMS. 519 they said: “O, me hide them in lava bed, too much heavy, no like carry.” So George Jones took the lead, the Indians followed him, and I brought up the rear. I could see that they were very weak from hunger, but they plodded along, encouraged by the thought of getting something to eat at Gen. Wheaton’s quarters. We arrived there at noon, and when I turned them over to the General and told him their names, he said: “It is with the greatest of pleasure that I receive them. Now if I only had just one more I would be satisfied. That one is Schonchin. I would then have all the ring leaders.” Up to this time I had not learned what would be the fate of those Indians directly interested in the assassi- nation of Gen. Canby and Col. Thomas, and I must ad- mit that I was terribly surprised when Gen. Wheaton in- formed me that they would all be hanged. From those Indians I learned that Captain Jack and his council were not on good terms, having had a falling out while in the cave, and they would not speak to each other while at Gen. Wheaton’s headquarters. The cause of the trouble grew out of a proposition by Captain Jack to surrender, and he had been talking surrender for two weeks past, but the rest of them were in favor of fighting to the last. Mary, the squaw, told me that they at one time came near putting Jack to death for cowardice, and that was the reason he had deserted them, knowing that his life was in danger in the cave. From this on we captured one or two Modocs every day. The fourth day after the last band referred to was captured, one of my scouts reported having seen Indian 520 CATCHING FISH tracks at the head of Tule Lake, but could not make out the exact number. I had just lain down to take a nap, it being early in the morning, and I had been riding all night, but George and I saddled our horses and were off for the head of Tule Lake, Gen. Wheaton promising to send a company of soldiers after us at once. We struck the Indian trail about twelve miles from Fishing for a living. headquarters, this being the first band that had escaped from the west side of the cave. As soon as we discovered their trail we put spurs to our horses and sped along up the river, for the trail was plain and we experienced no trouble in following it, and SOME COMMENTS. 521 just above the Natural Bridge on Lost river, we came on to them. Some were fishing, some were cooking the fish they had caught, and others were eating fieh. It seemed that each one of them caught, cooked and ate their own fish. Seeing no arms we rode up to them. There were twelve of them, and among them was Sconchin, the other councilman who the General was so anxious to get hold of. Sconchin said: ( ‘Go Fort Klamath, all Injun heap hungry, now ketchem fish, eat plenty, by and by go to fort.” I had George Jones turn and ride back to hurry the soldiers up, for I did not deem it a safe plan for two of us to try to take the whole crowd prisoners, for even though they had no arms they might scatter all over the country and then we could not get them only by killing them, and that I did not want to do. While I am in no wise a friend to a hostile; I believe in giving even an Indian that which is justly due him, and I must admit that all through this Modoc war I could not help, in a measure, feeling sorry for the Modocs, particularly Captain Jack, for I knew that through the negligence of one agent and the outrageous attack upon Jack by the squad of soldiers on Lost river, while there catching fish to keep his people from starving, he had been driven and dragged into this war, and I do not believe to-day, nor never did believe, that Captain Jack ought to have been hanged. I have often been asked, since, what I thought of the arrangements Mr. Berry made for the meeting of Gen. Canby, Col. Thomas and Captain Jack, but I have always refrained from answering that question any farther than that it seemed to me that a school boy ten years of age 522 MORE PRISONERS. should have known better than to have made such a bar- gain as he did, knowing the nature of Indians as well as he claimed to. But to my story — I stayed there and engaged the In- dians in conversation while George was making tracks back over the same road that we had just come to hurry the cavalry up. I learned from them that there were no more able-bodied men left in the cave, and there were some twenty or thirty squaws and children, besides several warriors that were wounded. In about an hour from the time George started back, the soldiers made their appearance. I told the Indians that we would have to take them prisoners and take them back to headquarters. This, however, was not pleasant news to them. They objected to return with us until I had informed them that they would be fed and protected until such time as we could get them all, and they having been acquainted with me before, we were successful in persuading them to return peacefully to the General’s quarters. It was late in the afternoon when we returned, and I at once reported to the General the number of Indians, also that Schonchin was in the gang, and that I had learned that there were no more able-bodied men in the cave. I told him that from what I could learn, I thought it perfectly safe for three or four men to enter the cave and secure the few remaining Indians. The General said: “I will think the matter over until morning. ” That evening the officers held a council and it was decided that in case the following morning was fair, Col. Miller and the Colonel from California whose name I do 523 ENTERED THE CAVE. not remember, myself, and two soldiers would make the attempt to enter the cave, I going as a guide more than anything else. Next morning about ten o’clock when the fog had raised and the sun came out most beautifully, we made the start for the cave. Although I had never been inside of the cave, I had no serious trouble in finding the main entrance to it, but we found it so dark inside that we had In the cave. to use lanterns. We had not proceeded far until we could see the fire. I proposed to the others that as I was acquainted with the Indians to let me advance alone, and I can truthfully say that just such another sight I never saw before nor since. There was a number of wounded Indians lying around; here were the bones of their horses that they had killed and eaten, and a smell 524 THE WAR ENDED. so offensive that it was really a hard task for me to stay there long enough to tell them what we wanted of them. As soon as I commenced talking to them the squaws and children began making their appearance from every direction. I told them my business, and if they would go with me they would be fed. They were not only willing, but anxious to go. By this time the other men were there, and when they were all gathered up Col. Miller sent two men back to camp for stretchers to carry the wounded Indians to headquarters. They were all taken out that day. I do not remember the number of wounded bucks that were in the cave, but there were thirty-two squaws and forty children. Now the bloody little Modoc war that had lasted so long at the cost of many lives, was brought to an end. This was glorious news to the surviving ones among the volunteers, and the next day they were making preparations to return to their respective homes, of rather Jacksonville, where they would be discharged, and they again could say their lives were their ( wri. This being the last days of June and my services *:c needed any more, I asked the General when the hav- ing would take place. He said that it would be abo* the twentieth of July. TAKING A REST. 52? CHAPTER XXXIX. An interested boy. — The execution of the Modoc leaders. — Newspaper messengers. — A very sud- den DEPUTY SHERIFF. A BAD MAN WOUND UP, I went from there to Yreka to rest up a while. Dur- ing my stay there, one morning while I was waiting for my breakfast, I was glancing over the morning paper, when a bright-eyed little boy about nine years old, en- tered the restaurant, walked up in front of me and said: 4 ‘Is this Capt. Drannan, the scout?” I said: “Yes, my little man. What can I do for you?” He said: “I am going to school and I have to write a composition to read in school, and my mother told me to see you and you might be able to assist me in getting up a piece on the Modoc war.” I asked the bright little fellow his name. He said his name was Johnny Whitney. ‘ ‘Where is your father and what does he follow for a living?” “My father is dead, and my mother takes in washing to sup- port herself and children.” That afternoon I spent in assisting the little fellow to prepare his composition. I remained there at Yreka about ten days, during which time I received a letter from George Jones, who was then at Jacksonville, re- questing me to meet him at Fort Klamath about four or five days before the hanging was to take place, and also 526 at Fort Klamath. requesting me to bring all my saddle horses. I succeeded in getting up quite a party of business men and citizens of Yreka and w e started out across the Siskiyou M o u ntains. After the first d a y’s sir* travel we found game plentiful and we had a pleasant trip. We had all the game and fish we want- ed, which a ff o r ded plenty of amusement for the pleasure-seekers of the crowd, which was the main object of this trip with a majority of them. We arrived at Fort Klamath five days before the hanging was to take place. The next day after we arrived a crowd came in from Jacksonville, and among them were Gen. Ross, George Jones, J. N. T. Miller and three newspaper reporters, one of whom rep- resented the San Francisco Chronicle , one the San Fran- cisco Examiner , and one the Chicago Inter-Ocean. Col. Miller came to me and asked if I would like a job of carrying dispatches from there, either to Jacksonville or “Is this Capt. Drannan, the scout?’’ GETTING READY. 527 to Ashland, saying: “The CJwonicle man has not found a man yet that he could trust the dispatches with.” The reporter had told Mr. Miller that he would pay one hundred dollars for carrying the dispatch, and in case he was first to the office, he would also pay one hundred dollars more in addition to that. From there to Jacksonville it was one hundred miles and a wagon road all the way, while to Ashland it was but eighty miles, of which sixty miles was only a trail. This I had passed once in company with J. N. T. Miller. I was introduced to the reporter by Col. Miller, with whom I soon made arrangements to carry his dispatches. He asked me how long it would take me to ride to Ash- land. I told him I thought it would take about eight hours with my three horses. He said if I went to Ash- land I would have no competition on the trail as the other riders were both going to Jacksonville. The day before the hanging was to take place I hired a young man to take two of my horses and go out on the trail, instructing him to leave one of them picketed out at Cold Springs, and the other one to take to Bald Mountain, which was thirty miles from Ashland. At this place I wanted Black Bess, and he was to stay there with her until I came and to return, get my other horse, and meet me at Jacksonville. When the time arrived for the hanging and the pris- oners were led to the scaffold, each dispatch carrier was mounted and standing on the outer edge of the crowd, ready at the moment he received the dispatch to be off at once. When the four Indians were led upon the scaffold to meet their doom, each of them were asked, 528 THE HANGING. through an interpreter, whether or not he wished to say anything before being hung, but they all shook their heads with the exception of Captain Jack, who informed them that he had something to say. He said: “I would like for my brother to take my place and let me live so I can take care of my wife and little girl. ” The carrier for the Inter-Ocean was the first to get his dispatch, the Examiner the second, I receiving mine just as the last Indian was hung, and now for the race to see who gets there first. It was eleven o’clock when we the wagon road and On the outer edge of the crowd, ready to be off. took the trail for Ashland. Now I had sixty miles to ride over a trail and they had eighty miles over a wagon road. At this ride to Ashland. 529 junction where the trail left the wagon road I bade the other couriers good-day, telling them that in case they beat me they must treat to the oysters when we met at Jacksonville, and I sped away and lost no time in get- ting from there to Cold Springs, where I found my other horse picketed out as I had ordered. I dismounted, threw my saddle on the other horse, which was appar- ently feeling fine, mounted him and was off again, leav- ing the other horse picketed at the same place, so my man could get him on his return. My horse took a long sweeping gallop and kept it up for about twelve miles, by which time he was beginning to sweat quite freely, and I commenced to urge him and put him down to all I thought he would stand. When I came in sight of Black Bess she raised her head and whinnied to me. The young man was lying asleep and holding her rope, while she was grazing near him. Again I changed my saddle from my other horse to Black Bess, and gave the young man instructions to start at once and lead my horse slowly so as to prevent him from cooling off too fast. I mounted Black Bess and now I was on the homestretch. 1 did not urge her any for the first few miles until she commenced sweating freely, after which I commenced to increase her speed, and fifteen minutes after six I rode up to the telegraph office and handed my dispatch to the operator, who started it on the wire at once. I led my mare up and down the streets to prevent her from cooling off too quick, and when it was known where I was from, everybody in town had about forty questions to ask relative to the hanging of the four Modoc braves. 530 A QUICK TRIP, On leaving the telegraph office I asked the operator to let me know when the first dispatch started from Jacksonville, and while at supper he came in and told me that the Examiner had just started their dispatch over the wire, which was just one and three-quarter hours behind me in getting to the office. The next day taken to Florida. 53i I rode to Jacksonville, and the day following the bal- ance of the crowd came in from the fort. Among them were the three reporters, all well pleased with the time their bearers had made in carrying their dispatches, and that night we all had what in those days we used to term “a-way-up time.” The balance of the Indians who were taken prisoners in this Modoc war were afterwards taken to Florida and placed on a small reservation, which, I presume, was done on account of the bitter feeling that existed among the people of that section of the country toward this tribe on account of the assassination of Gen. Canby, Col. Thomas and George Meeks, the interpreter, as well as the many other people that were murdered on Lost river and Tule Lake. While at Jacksonville a man came to me named Martin, who was a meichant and resided in Oakland, Cal., who wanted to hire me to go out in the mountains some twenty miles from Jacksonville and look after a man named McMahon, saying: “There must be something wrong with McMahon, for he is the most punctual man I ever dealt with; he promised to be here three weeks ago to pay a certain party fifty dollars, but has not been seen nor heard from since.” McMahon owned a band of sheep and was ranging them out in the mountains. Mr. Martin gave me direc- tions, and the next morning I started out for the sheep ranch. I had no trouble in finding the place, but the cabin and surroundings showed that no one lived there. I spent the balance of this day and the next in riding 532 LOOKING FOR McMAHON. over the sheep range, but could see no one, and only about twenty head of sheep. On my return to Jacksonville I went by way of Bybee’s ferry, on Rogue river, and learned that about three weeks previous to that time a band of two thousand head of sheep had crossed over the ferry, driven by two men. Now it was almost a foregone conclusion that some one had murdered McMahon and driven his band of sheep away, and when I returned to Jacksonville there was no little excitement about the city in regard to Mc- Mahon. Some of the business men and citizens with whom I was well acquainted, prevailed upon me to ac- cept an appointment as deputy sheriff, and start out and track the band of sheep up if possible and capture the thieves and murderers, the sheriff himself being very busy just at that time, it being near time for court to sit in that county. After receiving my appointment and tak- ing the oath of office, I struck directly for Bybee’s ferry, and for the first twenty miles beyond the ferry I expe- rienced no trouble whatever in keeping track of the sheep, finding a number of people who had seen them, and all gave the same description of the two men who were driving them. Leaving the settlement, I went into the mountains, spent five days tracking sheep here and there in every direction between Rogue river and Umpqua. Finally they struck off on to the breaks of the Umpqua and were soon in the settlement again, and I was able to get the description of the two men, which coincided with the description given by others. I found the sheep within about twelve miles of Can- ? FOUND THE SHEEP. 533 yonville, and a young man was herding them who I soon learned to be what might be called a half idiot. He told me that his name was Buckley. I had quite a pleasant chat with him and spent about two hours with him, lounging around, talking about his sheep. I asked if he had raised his sheep, and where his winter range was. He said he had not owned the sheep but a short time. I asked him if he had bought them here in this country. He said he had not, but got them on the other side of the mountain in the Rogue river country. I asked him if he owned them alone, whereupon he informed me that he had a partner in the sheep business. I asked him what his partner’s name was, and he told me it was John Barton. I' asked where his partner lived, and he said that he lived down on the Umpqua river and was run- ning a ferry. Now I was satisfied that I had found the sheep and one of the men and as good as got the other one where I could put my hand on him at any time. I rode down to Canyonville and telegraphed Mr. Manning, the sheriff, that I had found the sheep and one of the men and had the other one located. He answered me by saying that I would have help the following day from Roseburg, that being the county seat of Douglas county, which is six- teen miles from Canyonville, where I then was and which was in the same county. I waited patiently the next day for assistance, but it did not come. Late that even- ing I went to the constable of that precinct and asked him to go with me and assist in making the arrest, but he refused, saying: “That man Barton is a hard case. I don’t want to have anything to do with him.” I did 534 Barton’s Ferry. not tell him the particulars of the case, and I must admit that I did not know enough of. civil law to know that it was necessary for me to be armed with a warrant to go and make the arrest. On the refusal of the constable to accompany me, I at once walked down to the stable and ordered my horse saddled, and inquired the way to John Barton’s place. The proprietor of the stable told me how to go. So concluding to tackle him alone, I mounted my horse just after dark and started for Barton’s Ferry. I found the place without difficulty, and although I rode very slowly, I got to the river some time before daylight. I tied my horse in the brush and walked the road until daylight. As soon as it was daylight I saw the house on the other side of the river, and kept my eye on it until just before sunrise, when I saw the smoke commence to curl up from the chimney, and in about fifteen minutes I saw a man come out in his shirt sleeves and bare-headed. I at once mounted my horse and rode down to the river and halloed for him to bring the boat over as I wished to cross the river. He answered by saying: “I’ll be there in a minute as soon as I get my hat and coat.” He stepped into the house, got his hat and coat and came across. When he landed I walked on to the boat and asked if he was Mr. Barton. He said that was his name, and in a second he was looking down the muzzle of my pistol, and I informed him that he was my prisoner. He asked me what for. I said for the murdering of Mc- Mahon. “Have they found the body?” were the first words that fell from his lips, which he doubtless would not Barton arrested. 535 have uttered ha’d I not caught him off his guard. I told him they had, which was false. I informed him that he was my prisoner. “You want to take me away with you and not let me see my wife and bid her good-bye?” 536 Barton arrested. I informed him that I would, telling him that she could come to see him if she liked. He offered all man- ner of excuses to get back to his house. After I had listened awhile I gave him two minutes to get off the boat and take the road, which he did at once. I did not try to put the handcuffs on him alone, not wishing to give him any drop on me whatever. I made him take the road ahead of me, and we started on our way for Jacksonville. After we had gone some two miles in the direction of Canyonville an old gentleman and his son overhauled us with a wagon, and I had the old man put the handcuffs on him, after which I allowed him to get into the wagon with the other two men and ride to Canyonville. When I put him in the little lock-up which they had there for such occasions and' went and hunted up the constable and asked him to look after Barton until I would return. I could get no satis- faction from him, so I went to a merchant in town and related the whole circumstance to him and asked him to keep a watch or tell me of some one whom I could hire to look after him that I could rely upon. He assured me that he would look after a man, put him there to watch and then we would be sure that he would be safe. I then mounted my horse and was off for Buckley, whc I found without difficulty, arrested him, and started on my way back to Canyonville. He came so near admitting the crime that I was sure. I had the two guilty men. I got back with my prisoner just in time to take the stage for Jacksonville. Leaving my horse at the livery stable, I instructed the liveryman to send him at once to Jacksonville and I would pay all TAKEN TO JAIL. 537 charges. I handcuffed both prisoners and had them shackled together, put them in the stage and started to Jacksonville with them. I wired the sheriff that I had both of the guilty parties and would be at Jacksonville on the stage, which was due about six o’clock the next morning. The sheriff and his deputies met us that morning at the edge of town. It had been noised around that I would be in and they were somewhat afraid of a mob, but we succeeded in getting to the jail all safe, and not until then had I the faintest idea that I had stepped be- yond my official duty in arresting those men without a warrant and bringing them into another county. These were the first white prisoners that I had ever had any experience with. I had taken so many Indian prisoners that never required any red tape, I naturally supposed that the same rule would be applicable in this case, but I got away with it just the same. That after- noon we took the young man off to himself, and when he was questioned by the district attorney and a certain doctor, whose name has slipped my memory, he ad- mitted the whole affair, and told us just where to go to find McMahon’s body. When he told us this the doctor drew a diagram of the ground. Buckley said we would find a tree a certain distance from the cabin that had been blown out by the roots, and in that hole we would find the body covered up with brush and chips thrown on top of the brush. After giving this valuable information we at once started out to hunt for the body. It was now late in August and a little snow had fallen on the mountains in the fore part of the night. S38 FOUND THE DEAD BODV. By the aid of the diagram we went to the ground after night, built up a fire and waited till morning. As soon as it was light enough to see, the doctor took the dia- gram out of his pocket, looked at it and said: “It should be near here.” He then turned, and seeing a tree that had been blown over, said: “There is a tree that answers to the description.” We walked to the tree and at once saw the toe of one of the dead man’s boots pro- truding through the brush. The doctor when gathering wood the night before to build a fire, had walked almost over the body and had picked up two or three chips of wood from the brush which covered the body. We waited some time before the crowd came with the wagon. After they arrived the body was uncovered, loaded into the wagon and hauled to Jacksonville, arriving in time for the coroner to hold the inquest that afternoon, and the following day the body was buried. The time having been set for the preliminary exami- nation, Barton’s wife and her father arrived in Jackson- ville the day before the time set for the trial, and his father-in-law employed an attorney to conduct the case in court in his behalf. When Barton was brought into court he waived examination, but it was quite different with Buckley. When he was brought in for trial the judge asked him if he had counsel. He said he did not, nor did he want any, but the judge appointed a lawyer to take his case. The lawyer took the prisoner off into a room in com- pany with the deputy sheriff and they were gone about twenty minutes. When they returned the lawyer stated that the prisoner wished to plead guilty and receive his STARVED HIMSELF. 539 sentence so he could start in at once to work it out. Barton never had a trial, for he starved himself to death and died in jail. The jailor told me that for seventeen days he did not or drink but one spoonful of soup. CHAPTER XL. In society some more. — A very tight place. — Ten pairs of Yankee ears. — Black Bess shakes her- self AT THE RIGHT TIME. A SOLEMN COMPACT. I remained in Jacksonville until about the first of De- cember, 1874, when I received a letter from Lieut. Jack- son, who was yet at Fort Yuma, Ariz., stating that there was an opening for me there, and asking me if I knew where George Jones was at that time, and telling me if possible to have him accompany me, as he would insure us both employment in the scouting field upon our arrival. George was now living twelve miles from Jackson- ville. Being sick and tired of idling away my time around town, I rode out to pay George and his parents a friendly visit before taking my leave for Arizona. I found 540 WE ARRIVE IN them in rather good circumstances on a small farm cn Bear creek, near Phoenix, and a pleasant visit I had with them at their beautiful little home, during which time I showed the letter to George that I had received from Lieut. Jackson. He expressed a desire to accom- pany me on the trip, but as his parents were now get- ting old and childish, he did not like to leave without their consent, he being their only son. Two days later George informed me that he had the consent of his father and mother to go to Arizona, to be gone one year, after which time he was going to quit the business for all time. But we have quit the business be- fore, and then I related the conversation I had with Jim Bridger some years previous at the time I first made up my mind to quit the scouting field. The time being set for the start, I returned to Jack- sonville for my other two horses, clothing, bedding and other traps such as belong to an old scout. All being in readiness, we bade Mr. and Mrs. Jones good-bye and started on our way for Arizona and aimed to reach San Francisco by Christmas. We had five horses in our outfit, I having three and George two. We arrived in San Francisco on the twenty-first of December. The next morning we were walking up Kearney street near the Lick House when we met the reporter for the Chronicle who I had ridden for at the time of the hang- ing of Captain Jack and associates at Fort Klamath. The reporter expressed himself as being very glad to meet us, and insisted on our taking a stroll over to the Chronicle office and meet the proprietors of the paper, San Francisco. 54i whose names were DeYoung, their being three brothers of them. As we had not changed our clothing, having our trav- eling suits on I insisted on deferring the matter until the next day, but this he would not hear to. As that would not work I tried another plan by telling him that we had not yet had our breakfast, but he told us that he had no; yet been to breakfast, and proposed that the three of us take breakfast together, or rather invited George and I to take breakfast with him, which we did, seeing that there was no chance to evade him. After breakfast we accompanied him to the Chronicle office, whice at that time was located on the corner of Kearney and Pine streets, and here we met all three of the DeYoung brothers. After being introduced to them and spending some two hours with them, Charles De- Young, the eldest of the three brothers, gave us a cor- dial invitation to take dinner with him at his own resi- dence, saying that dinner would be ready at six o’clock. This, I think, was the first time in my life that I had ever heard a six o’clock meal called dinner. Thanking him for the kind offer I excused myself as 1 was in my traveling suit, and the very thought of entering the pri- vate residence of one of the popular men of the city almost paralized me. But my excuses were all fruitless. He would not even consider “No” as answer, and some of them were with us until time for dinner, as he termed it, but what I would have called supper. With as bold a front as possible we accompanied Mr. DeYoung to his residence, which we found to be a fine mansion on California street. On arriving at his resi- 542 arrive at Fort Yuma. dence we met there some ten or tweve other guests, both ladies and gentlemen. Now the reader can have a faint idea of the embarrassing position in which we were both placed at that moment, and I can truthfully say that at the moment I entered that mansion I would have given three months’ wages to have been away from there. George Jones had on buckskin breeches and I had on a backskin suit, while the guests were dressed in style. I tried to offer some apology, but at every attempt it seemed that I only made a bad matter worse. We were treated with the greatest respect while at this place, and were asked many questions by the other guests relative to the Modoc war, the capturing of Cap- tain Jack, etc., and the following morning quite an arti- cle came out in the Chronicle concerning George Jones and myself relative to the position we held in the Modoc war. We remained there until the last day of December, on which day wq started again on our journey for Ari- zona, via Salinas, Santa Barbara and Los Angeles. Here we lay over and let our horses rest four days, after which we proceeded on our journey via San Diego, which at that time was a very small place. From there we struck for the Colorado river and followed down the river to Fort Yuma. This route we took in order to avoid crossing any of those sand deserts. We were about five weeks making the trip, and reached Fort Yuma without any accident □r mishap whatever, and learned that the Indians were worse in Arizona than when we left them several years CHIEF OF SCOUTS. 543 before, as they were most all armed with rifles, instead of bows and arraws, and many of them had pistols. Lieut. Jackson told me he had lost more men the last year out than in any other two seasons since he had been in Arizona. He had received orders to take four hundred cavalrymen and one hundred infantrymen and go into the mountains and follow the Indians from place to place the coming season. The Lieutenant told me that there had been a settlement started the last year about ninety miles from the line of Arizona and Senora, Mexico, and they were not only troubled with the Indians, but the Mexicans also came in there and stole their stock and run it across the line. Gen. Crook was still in charge of the command, and wanted me to accompany Lieut. Jackson, saying: ‘T do not expect you to do any hard service yourself, but want you to take charge of the scout force and handle it to suit yourself.” If my memory serves me right, it was in the latter part of March, 1875, when we made the start for the mountains. For the first hundred miles our supplies were hauled on wagons, but the balance of the way they had to be packed on animals. On our way out we passed near Salt River Valley, that being settled up now with Americans. I started to ride out to the settlement to ascertain something of the nature of the depredations committed there lately. I dressed in teamster’s clothing and tied a pair of blankets behind my saddle before starting to the settlement. It was late in the evening, just about sunset, and I was rid- ing leisurely along, being within six or seven miles of the 544 nz.^7 semement, when suddenly I came upon three Meccans, just cooking supper. They saw me as quick as I saw them, and I thought I was in for it. I was too near them to at- tempt to get away, so all that I could do was to make the best I could of it, take my chances and trust to luck. When I rode up I spoke to them in my own language and one big burley look- t came opon three Mexicans cooking supper. ing Mexican said: “No in- detenda English,” meaning I don’t understand English. They then asked me in their tongue if I spoke Spanish, which I understood as well as they did, but I shook my head as if I could not understand a word they said. I dismounted, untied the blankets from behind my saddle, threw them down near the fire on which they were cooking supper, but did not unsaddle my mare. I TEN PAIRS OF EARS. 545 was riding Black Bess, and one of them got up and walked around her and examined her closely, and when he returned to the fire he said: “Esta ismo muya wano cavia,” meaning that is a good horse. Another one in the crowd said he had in his pocket just ten pairs of ears that he had taken from the heads of Yankees, and this would make the eleventh pair. Now I thought my time had come, but I had been in tight places before and had always managed in some way to get out. While it looked very blue, still 1 made up my mind that when it came to the worst I would get at least one or two of them while they were doing me up. I did not pretend to pay any attention to their conversation, yet at the same time I could understand all that was uttered by them. I learned that there were ten in the gang, and the other seven had gone that night to the settlement for the purpose of stealing horses, and were liable to return at any time, While I was lying there on my blankets I heard them lay their plans to kill me in case I went to sleep, or if I got up and started to my horse they were to shoot me before I got away. Now the reader can rest assured that this was getting to be a serious affair with me, for I knew that these Mexicans could handle a pistol with good success, while they are as a rule experts with a knife, the latter being a Mexican stand-by. This was a little the closest place that I had ever been in. If i attempted to leave they would kill me as sure as I made the start; if I stayed there until the other seven re- turned, then I would not have a ghost of a show for my life. I laid there by the fire as though I was worn out en- 546 Black Bess shakes herself. tirely, listening to their talk, and more than once heard the big rough-looking Mexican boast of a pair of Yankee ears that he would take from my head. Their supper being ready, they sat down to eat, but did not invite me to sup with them. They all three ate out of the same frying pan and poured their coffee out in tin cups. Two of them had their backs turned toward me, while the other one sat on the opposite side of the frying pan that they were eating out of and facing me, but they were paying but little attention to me. Black Bess was feeding close by and on the opposite side of them from where I lay. Now I made up my mind that I would make a desperate effort to extricate myself from this trap, for to stay there I knew meant death and I would rather take my chances with those three than with the entire gang. They were all sitting flat on the ground, each had a pistol on him and their guns all lay within a few feet of them. My only show for escape was to kill two of them at the first shot and then I would have an equal show with the other one, but now was the particu- lar part of the work. Just one false move and the jig was up with me, but it was getting time that I should be at work for the other seven were likely to be there at any moment. I carefully reached around under my coat tail and got hold of both of my pistols, and just as I did so, as good luck would have it, Black Bess shook herself very hard and caused them to turn their eyes toward her, and it could not have happened in a better time. I was on my knees in an instant, and leveling a pistol at each of the two with their backs towards me, I fired, and be- ing almost near enough to have touched either of them A LUCKY ESCAPE. 547 with the point of the pistol, it was a sure thing that I would not miss them. After firing the first two shots I was on my feet in an instant, by which time the third man had taken a tumble to himself and was on his knees and had his pistol about half out when I fired both pis- tols at him and he fell back dead. By this time one of the others had staggered to his feet and had his pistol out, but, fortunately, he seemed to be blind, for he fired his pistol in the opposite direction from where I stood. I turned and dealt him his fatal dose. I tried to catch their pack horses but missed one of them, and as time was precious, for I did not know what moment the seven would come, I took their rifles, broke the stocks off of them, took their pistols along with me, mounted Black Bess, rounded up their horses and started for the train, and I lost no time in getting there, and as I sped across the country on Black Bess after the nine captured animals I felt that I could congratulate mysejf on getting out of the tightest place I had ever been in, without even a scratch. When I arrived at camp and reported to the Lieuten- ant he at once started two companies of cavalry out to try and cut the other seven off, instructing them to watch every trail and every watering place within fifty miles, closely. I changed horses and started with George Jones and six other scouts, and the last words that L.ieut. Jackson said to me as I was ready to ride away was: 4 ‘Don’t spare horse flesh, but run them down Cap, if it is possi- ble, and let us break up this thieving band. I would rather kill one Mexican any time than two Apaches.” 548 WE GAVE CHASE. Across the country we rode at a rapid rate, but were not able to reach the spot until after daylight. The Mex- icans had been there ahead of us and removed every- thing but their dead comrades, those they did not at- tempt to remove or even bury, leaving them for the wolves that roved the country in search of food. We were soon on their trail, which was easily fol- lowed, as they were driving a large band of stock. About the middle of the afternoon we came in sight of them. When they first saw us we were so near them that they deserted their band of stock and ran for their lives. We gave chase, but could not get any nearer. We followed them until dark, our horses being badly jaded, and I had now been in the saddle for two days and one night in succession, so we made camp for the night. The next morning a detail of six men was made to drive the stolen stock back to the settlement where it belonged, there be- ing some forty head of horses and mules. The balance of us returned to the trail, lay over and rested one day. This put a stop to the Mexicans troubling the settlement for some time. Pulling on for the mountains, the second day we saw the ruins of two wagons that had been burned, but could get no trace of the teamsters. The supposition prevailed that they were taken prisoners by the Apaches. The Lieutenant established his headquarters fifty miles from where he had his quarters when we were out before, and now active work commenced, for there was plenty of it to be done. We had only been there a few days when two of my scouts came in one evening and reported having seen % r discover Indians. 549 about twenty Indians ten miles from camp and traveling west. The scouts all being in, George Jones and I and four other scouts and one company of cavalry started in pursuit. We had no trouble in striking their trail, and there being a good starlight that night and the country somewhat sandy, we were able to track them easily. We had not followed the trail more than two miles when we passed over a ridge, and I looked down the valley ahead of us and could see the glimmer of their fire. Here the soldiers stopped, and I and my scouts went on in the direction of the fires, which we supposed to be about half a mile away but which proved to be nearer two miles. When we were near the camp we dismounted and crawled up. We located the horses, which were mostly standing still at the time and two or three hun- dred yards from camp. I “telegraphed” the soldiers to come at once. Taking the balance of the scouts we rode slowly and carefully around, getting immediately between the In- dian camp and their horses, I telling George Jones that as soon as the soldiers started to make their charge to follow me with the horses. But this time the Indians were awake before the soldiers were on them and opened fire on them, killing three horses and wounding two the first round, but only one soldier was wounded, and the sergeant in charge told me afterwards that he got eigh- teen Apaches out of the crowd, and we got twenty-seven horses. We got back to headquarters about noon the next day and learned that Lieut. Jackson had gone in a different direction after another band of Apaches, which he overhauled and got twelve scalps from their number. 550 A SURPRISE PARTY. Now we started for a trip on the east side of Black canyon, six scouts and one company of cavalry, with twenty-two pack animals, calculating to be gone about ten days. On the fifth day of our trip George Jones, myself and two other scouts were riding leisurely along about one mile in advance of the command when just as we raised to the top of a little rocky ridge we came face to face with a band of Indians, making a surprise to both parties. I could not tell which party fired first, but we gave them one round and seeing that there were too many of them for us, we wheeled and started back down the hill. As we did so George sang out: “My horse is shot,” and just at that time the horse fell. George threw himself clear of the horse and when he struck the ground he lit running, and at his best licks, too. The rest of us dropped behind George to Gea. G. A. Custer. P rotect him until we were off the rocky ground. The Indians held their distance all the way down the hill, not stopping to reload their guns. Indians routed. 55i When we were at the foot of the hill the three of us that were mounted, in order to give George Jones a chance to ascend the hill, turned and gave them another volley. Here I fired three shots and got two Indians and then spurred up by the side of George and gave him a chance to jump on behind me, which he did. Just as we raised to the top of the hill we met the command, who had heard our firing and came to our relief, and they met the Indians face to face. At this the Indians changed their minds very suddenly, and it is useless to say that they were on the back track much quicker than I could tell it. The soldiers went in hot pursuit of them and got nine of their number. From there we struck off in a south- westerly direction, thinking that when we struck the main road we might run on to some emigrants en-route for California. We struck the main road fifty miles south of the Lieutenant’s quarters. Here we laid over two days, thinking that there might be an emigrant train come along that we could escort through to headquarters, this part of the road being in the heart of the Apache coun- try, and the most dangerous for emigrants from the fact that it is all a timber country and over mountains which, in places, are very rocky, thereby giving the Indians all advantage over the emigrants. The evening of the second day, just as we were sit- ting down to supper, I received a message from Lieut. Jackson for George Jones and myself to come to head- quarters at once, but he did not state why he required our presence there. As soon as supper was over we started. The dispatch bearer thought it was at least 552 A SOLEMN COMPACT. sixty miles, but we had supposed it was not more than fifty, each of us having two saddle horses. At one place on the road the cayotes turned loose, and it sounded as if there must have been a hundred, all barking at once, and George Jones remarked: 4 ‘Above all things that I have dreaded while in this business is being shot down and left on the plains for my bones to be picked up by those sneaking wolves, and now Cap, I will make this agreement with you; in case that either of us happen to be killed, which is liable to happen any day, the surviving one is to see that the other is buried if in the bounds of possibility.” I said: “George, we will shake hands on that,” which we did, and I added: “You can also rest assured that if ever you are shot down while in company with me, no Indian will ever scalp you as long as I have the strength to stand over your body, nor shall the cayotes ever pick your bones if I live long enough to see that you are buried,” and the reader will see later on that I kept my promise. ATTACKED THE SETTLEMENT. 553 CHAPTER XLI. We LOCATE A SMALL BAND OF RED BUTCHERS AND SEND THEM TO THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUNDS. EMIGRANTS MISTAKE US FOR INDIANS. — GEORGE JONES WOUNDED, Just at sunrise we made our appearance at the Lieu- tenant’s quarters, and he informed us that the Indians had made an attack on the settlement on the east side of the San Antonio desert; had killed two families, taken two little girls prisoner and captured a lot of stock from the settlers. This report had first reached Gen. Crook at Fort Yuma, and he had dispatched the news to Lieut. Jack- son. This being a strange country to the Lieutenant, having never been over it and knowing that I had been through it twice, once with Uncle Kit Carson and an- other time in company with Jim Beckwith, he insisted on my going out in that section to investigate the matter and see whether or not the report was true. The day following George and I started with four assistants for the settlement. Each of us took two sad- dle horses and one pack animal for each two men, with ten days’ rations. From there to the settlement was about seventy-five miles. Knowing just where the majority of the Apache force was concentrated, we took rather a circuitous route in- 5 54 SAW A SMALL BAND. stead of going direct to the settlement in order to ascer- tain whether the depredations were committed by Apaches or Pimas. The fifth day out we struck the settlement, but did not cross the Indian trail, which led me to think that the work was done by Pimas and not Apaches. When we arrived there no one could tell us how many Indians there were nor what they looked like, but when I came to find out the truth of the matter there had been no families massacred, nor had the two girls been taken prisoners, but there had been two boys killed that were herding stock. We remained there one day in order to learn what we could in regard to the trouble and then struck the trail of the Indians and followed it two days, but it was so old that we gave it up, as it was then twelve days since the depredations were committed and we knew that the Indians were a long ways off by that time. We took a different route on our return, and the second day we saw a small band of Indians traveling toward the settlement, which we had left four days previous. We started in pursuit of them and struck their trail before it was dark. I was confident that they would camp at the first water they came to, which was about seven or eight miles from there, so we staked our horses out on good grass, sat down and ate our lunch while we waited for the clear moon to make its appearaece and light us across the country where we might find the noble red men of the plains and entertain them for a while at least. We thought that it would take us about all night to track SURPRISED IN CAMP. 555 them up by the light of the moon, find their camp and play them just one little tune of “How came you so?” Abut ten o’clock the moon arose, but we waited until it was two hours high, giving our horses a chance to fill up, after which we mounted and took the trail of the Pimas, which we had not great trouble in finding. After we had followed the trail about seven miles we came to their horses, but could see no signs of any camp, and we at once made up our minds that the Indians were not far away, but that they had either built no fire or the fire had gone entirely out, for we could see no signs of any. Dismounting, George took one man with him and I took one with me, leaving the other two with the horses, and started out in different directions to look for their camp. After wandering around about an hour I found where they were camped, and they were sound asleep and lying in a row but each one separate. We then returned to our horses and in a short time George came in. It was now getting high time that we were at work, for it was beginning to get daybreak, so after I had explained how they laid, five of us started for them, leaving one man with the horses. They were lying about two hun- dred and fifty yards from where we had stopped with our horses. We crawled up abreast until within ten feet of the Indians, and each scout drew both his revolvers, sprang to his feet, and I need not say that we made quick work of those redskins. Only one got to his feet, and he did not stand a second until there were three or four bullets in his body, but not one of us got a scratch in this fight 556 TO PROTECT EMIGRANTS. Now the fun was over and we were not afraid to speak out, so we called out for the man that we left in charge of our horses to bring them over, and we gathered some wood and built a fire. It had been several days since we had had fresh meat, but the Pimas had been kind enough to kill an antelope that day, and as they had only eaten of it once, we had a feast that morning, which we enjoyed very much. We gathered up the guns and ammunition that be- longed to the Indians, which, by the way, was the best armed lot of Indians I had ever seen. Each one of them had a good rifle and a Colt revolver, and one of them had the handsomest knife I ever saw. Had we not run on to them no doubt they would have done some devil- ment in the white settlement the following day. We reached headquarters in three days. It was now time for the emigrants to begin to travel over the Butterfield route, and Lieut. Jackson started one company of cavalry across to the opposite side of the mountain some sixty miles away to protect the emigrants, and George Jones and I both accompanied them. We established our quarters about a half mile from the road at the foot of the mountains on the south side. The next day after we struck this place George and I started out to scout over the country to see whether or not there were any Indians in the country and also ride out on the road and look for emigrants. The second day out we climbed to the top of a high ridge, and by looking through the glass we could see a large emigrant train coming, which we thought to be MISTAKEN FOR INDIANS 557 about twenty miles distant. We knew very well where it would camp, and by riding briskly we would be able to meet it by dark; so we rode on and reached the emi- grants about sunset. They were just corralling their wagons for the night, and when they saw us coming they took us for Indians and every man went for his gun. As soon as we saw them start for their guns we both took off our hats and waved them over our heads, when they saw that they were needlessly alarmed. This train was from Texas, and the name of the captain was Sours, and it was beyond doubt the best organized train I ever saw on the plains; everything seemed to move like clock work. When I told Capt. Sours who we were and what our business was and that as soon as they got to our quarters they would have an escort, he said: “I am indeed very glad to know that there is some protection out here for emigrants, but as for ourselves we do not need it much, for every man in my train has seven shots, and some of them three times that number.” We stayed with them that night and the next morn- ing pulled out for our quarters. We remained there for a month, but did not see any Indians during that time. At the end of the month there came along a large train from Arkansas and Texas. We escorted it across the mountains expecting that this would wind up the emigrant travel across there for the season. When we arrived at Lieut . Jackson’s quarters he started George and I and two other scouts out towards the Salt river valley settlement, telling me that he would move down near Mrs. Davis’ ranch and there he would wait until he 558 A CLOSE CALL. should hear from me. The third day out we made camp early on account of water, and after deciding on the spot where we should pitch our camp for the night George rode off to a high ridge near by to take a look over the country. He was not gone long before he made his ap- pearance rid- ing at full speed, and an- nouced that there was a large band of Indians coming direct for our camp, and would be on to us before we could saddle up and get away. ‘‘Get your horses boys,” were his first words, and every man made a rush for his horse, but before we could get saddled the Indians hove iri sight, and not over half a mile away. “There they are,” said George as he jumped on to his horse again, “and there must be at least sixty of them. ” I was not long in making up my mind what to do. We all got our horses saddled and were mounted just in Riding into camp at full speed. George Jones wounded. 559 the nick of time to get away for we were not twenty yards from camp when they were close on to us. Down the ravine we went with the Apaches in hot pursuit of us. I yelled out to the boys to turn to the left across the ridge and when we were over the turn we stopped and gave them a volley, and picked off the leaders as they came in sight. I saw a number of them fall, but it did not appear to check them in the least. They were coming too thick and we wheeled and were off again with some of them within at least thirty yards of us, but we gained on them gradually. Finally George Jones sang out: “I am shot through the arm.” I reined my horse up by his side and asked if his arm was broken. He said it was, and I could see it was hanging down and the blood almost streaming off his fingers. I asked if he felt sick, and he said he did not. Of course all the time this conversation was going on we were putting our ho.ses down to their utmost. George said: 4 T am all right if I don’t get another shot,” so I told him to taka the lead and not to spare his horse. I also told the other boys to fall back to the rear so we could protect him, as he was badly wounded and the In- dians were holding their own pretty well. On looking ahead I saw another little ridge and I told the boys that when we were over that to all turn and give them two shots each, and for each to be sure to get his Indian. This order was carried into effect and they were so near us that I think each shot did its work. This brought them to a halt and they did not crowd us any more; it was soon dark and we escaped without any further mishap. 560 WE GAVE CHASE. After we could hear no more of them we rode to the top of a ridge where we would have a chance to protect ourselves in case of another attack, and dismounted to ascertain the extent of George’s wound, and as the ex- citement died down he commenced feeling sick at his stomach. I gave him a drink of whiskey from a bottle that I had carried in my canteen at all seasons, and this was the second time the cork had been drawn from the flask. When we ,got his coat off and examined his wound we found that the arm was broken just below the elbow. Using our handkerchiefs for bandages, we dressed the hurt as best we could, corded his arm to stop the flow of blood and then pulled out for headquarters, arriving there just at daybreak. I took George to the surgeon, who set the bone and dressed the arm up “ship shape,” after which he gave him something to make him sleep. After seeing George in bed I at once repaired to the Lieutenant’s quarters and found him just arising. He asked me if I was too tired to make another chase, and I told him I would be ready as soon as I could eat my breakfast. He said in one hour’s time he would have two companies of cavalry ready to start. After breakfast I changed horses, and taking four other scouts, started out to pilot the cavalry to where we could take the trail of the Indians. On this trip each scout took four days’ rations, and about one o’clock that afternoon we struck a plain trail that we followed at a lively gait until nearly dark; the scout force riding from one to two miles ahead so in case we should get in sight of the reds we could telegraph back to the command, or THIRTEEN FRESH GRAVES. 561 should the Indians attempt to give us another chase we might be able to run them up against the soldiers, where they would find amusement for a while. We followed them for two days but never got sight of them. They had turned and made their way back in the direction of Black canyon and we gave up the chase, but we were sure that in the running fight we had with them that evening we had killed at least thirteen, as we found that many newly made graves when we went back to take their trail. We returned to headquarters and I found George do- ing splendidly, and the next day we all pulled out for Fort Yuma. The first day’s travel took us to Mrs. Davis’ This was the first time I had seen her or any of her family since the next day after the funeral of her husband and two sons in the fall of 1866. Mrs. Davis insisted on George staying there with them until his arm was well, which kind and hospitable offer he accepted, remaining two months. We put in our time that winter as usual when wintering at the foit, doing nothing. 562 St. Louis Valley. CHAPTER XLII. n WE are all surrounded.” — A bold dash and a bad wound. — Mrs. Davis shows her gratitude. — The most of my work now done on crutches. It was the last of February or first of March, 1876, that we started for St. Louis Valley. I had visited this valley twice, but had come in both times from the oppo- site direction to which we would have to enter the valley in going from camp, consequently I was at a loss to know just which direction to go from camp to strike the valley where we wanted to enter it; but we struck out southeast, taking twenty days’ provisions with us. The ninth day out we came in sight of the valley from the west side. It being about noon, water being handy and no end to the grass, we stopped there for dinner and to let our horses graze. After I had taken a squint through my glasses, I called the Lieutenant to me and handed them to him. He sat and looked for a long time, and when he took the glasses from his eyes he said: 4 ‘That is beyond any doubt the prettiest sight I ever saw in my life.” There were small bands of bison scattered here and there all over the valley, elk by the hundreds and deer too num- erous to mention, but not an Indian nor even a sign of ope could be seen in this lovely valley. '-fliei, A USELESS TRIP. 563 “I have made this trip unnecessarily,’’ said he, ‘dor I had expected to find many little bands of Indians in Some bands of bison scattered here and there. this valley hunting, but in that I am disappointed.” We then turned back for headquarters as quick as possible, making the entire trip without seeing an Indian or even a sign of one. Some time in June the Lieutenant started out in com- mand of two companies of cavalry to cross the mountains to protect the emigrants, George Jones and I ahead with four assistants. The Lieutent having told us where he would camp that night, it was the duty of the scouts to make a cir- cuit of the camp before dark. On arriving at the ap- pointed place, George and I started to make a tour of the camp, leaving the other scouts at the camping place- It was about sunset when we saw a band of Indians as we supposed about four miles from where we were to camp that night, and about one mile and a half from where we then were. We put spurs to our horses and headed for the Indian camp, as we were desirous of ascer- 564 discover Indians. taining about their number and getting the location of the ground before it was too dark. When we were within about a quarter of a mile, it being gi nearly dark, we were just in the iact of tying our horses, intending to crawl up near their camp, we heard a rumbling noise back in the direction from which we had j ust come. I crawled quickly around the hill and saw another band of Indians coming directly toward u s, who were making their way as we supposed to where the other Indians were camped. I got back to my horse in less time than it took me to crawl away from him, then we mounted and got away as we supposed, un- discovered, and rode up a ravine and in a direction that we would not be seen by the Indians. Not thinking our- Another band of Indians coming toward us. A BOLD DASH AND A BAD WOUND. 565 selves in any immediate danger, we did not hurry. After riding up the ravine only a short distance, just as we rounded a curve, we were brought face to face with an- other band of Indians. This was, I think, a small band that had left the main band to hunt for game and were just getting into camp, but we did not make any in- quiries as to what success they had in hunting, nor did we ask whether they had been hunting at all. The moment we saw them we drew our pistols and commenced firing, and they returned the fire. We were almost entirely surrounded by Indians, and I saw that it was no place for me, so I sang out to George: “Let’s break through their ranks.” “All right,” said he, and we drove the spurs into our horses with all vengeance, riding about fifteen feet apart and succeeding in getting through unhurt, and away we rode for quarters, closely followed by the redskins. Now we thought we were safe, and each in his own mind was congratulating himself, when a ball struck me in the left hip which paralyzed my whole side and wrecked my whole nervous system. I sang out to George to drop behind and whip my horse, for now I had no use whatever of my left leg, and it took all the strength in my right leg to hang on to the horse. No quicker said than he was behind my horse and doing all in his power to urge him, and telling me for God’s sake to hang on a little longer. The soldiers had just rode into camp and were dis- mounting when they heard our firing, and remounted and started in that direction, but as it was getting dark and the country strange to them they could not make very good time. They met us about half way between the 566 AROUND ON CRUTCHES. camp and the Indians, the reds still in hot pursuit of us. The Lieutenant ordered a charge, and he had his men so trained that when he said charge they did not stop shoot- ing as long as there was an Indian to shoot at. By this time I was so sick that George had to help me off my horse, and leaving two men with me, he went on after, and overhauled the command before they got to the Indian camp, where they found the Indians ready for battle, and here I think the Lieutenant got the worst of the fight, for when he made the attack the Indians at- tacked him in the rear. The men had to carry me in their arms to camp, as they had no stretchers in the out- fit, and there I lay four weeks before an ambulance came. I was then removed to Fort Yuma. George Jones took charge of the scout force after I was wounded. I told George then that if I should be fortunate enough to get over my wound I would quit the business for all time. After remaining in the hospital at the fort about two months I was able to get around on crutches. Mrs. Davis having heard of my misfortune, came over in company with her brother to see how I was getting along, and insisted on my going home with them and re- maining until such time as I could ride on horseback, which kind offer I accepted, with the consent of the doc- tor, he giving me a supply of medicine sufficient to last me several weeks. I remained there until after Christmas, when George came after me, and by this time I was able to walk with a cane. I then returned to Fort Yuma, having made up my mind to draw my pay and quit the business. George also being tired of this kind of life, had con- A NEW CONTRACT. 567 eluded to return to his home in Oregon. When I made our intentions known to Gen. Crook he asked me how I would ever be able to get to civilization, for the mail was yet carried on horseback and I was not able to ride in that way. He insisted on my remaining with him the coming season, and if I should not be able to ride I could stay in camp and give orders to the other scouts. I asked George what he thought of the matter, and he said: “I will leave the matter with you, if you stay an- other season I will, or if you say leave I will quit also.” However, we decided after talking matters over to stay there one more season, and that would end our scouting career, both vowing that we would quit after that, and in our contract this time with the General we ageed to stay until the coming January, and George and I were to have two-thirds of all the property captured during this campaign. CHAPTER XLIII. Poor Jones makes his last fight. — He died among A LOT OF THE DEVILS HE HAD SLAIN. END OF THIRTY- ONE YEARS OF HUNTING, TRAPPING AND SCOUTING. About the first day in March, 1877, we started out on our summer’s campaign. I was now able to mount a 568 find Indians. horse by being assisted, but had to be very careful and only ride a short distance, and very slow at that. The third day on our trip from the fort George reported hav- ing seen the trail of quite a large band of Indians travel- ing westward almost parallel with the road, but said they had passed about two days before. I asked the Lieu- tenant to give me his camping places that night and the next one, which he did. I then told George to select four men from the scout force, take two days’ rations and see if he could run down the Indians and to telegraph me when they changed their course or when he had them located. George was on their trail before noon and before sun- set he had them located, only a short distance from the place where I had been wounded the year before. I got a dispatch from him just as I was ready to turn in for the night, and by one o’clock I recived another dispatch stating that there were about eighty in the band, and well armed, and among them about twenty squaws and their children. This was something we had never seen among the Apaches before. Lieut. Jackson asked my opinion of their having their families with them. I told him I thought they must be on their way to Sonora to trade, as at that time the Apaches had never traded but very little with the whites. They might be out for a hunt, but it was not custo- mary when on such a trip to have their families with them. Upon the receipt of the second dispatch from George, Lieut. Jackson started out with three companies of cavalry, and arrived at the spot near daybreak. I was told afterwards that George had been crawling around 569 death of George Jones. all night getting the location of the Indians, the general lay of the ground and to ascertain the best plan of at- tack, knowing it would be so late by the time the Lieu- tenant would arrive that he himself v/ould have no time to spare, and he had a diagram drawn on a piece of en- velope of the camp and surroundings, also had their horses located. When the Lieutenant was ready to make the attack George took four of the scouts and started to cut the horses off and prevent the Indians from getting to them, but it seemed as though when the cavalry started to make the charge, the Indians’ dogs had given the alarm and a part of the Indians had made for their horses. At any rate when daylight came George was found some two hundred yard"; from the Indian en- campment, with both legs broken and a bullet through his neck, which had broken it and four Indians lying near him dead, which he no doubt had killed, and his horse lay dead about a rod fro n where he lay. No one had seen him fall nor had heard a word from him after he gave the order to charge "or the horses. About the middle of that afternoon they returned to camp with George’s body and seven Jthers that were killed, and nineteen wounded soldiers. They had killed thirty-seven Indians and had taken all the squaws and children pris- oners. After I had ’ooked at the body of that once noble and brave form, but now a lifeless corpse, I told the Lieutenant that I was ready to leave the field, for there was not a man in the entire army that could fill his place, and without at least one reliable man in the field it would be impossible to accomplish anything. The dead were buried about two hundred yards north 570 THE GRAVE. of the spring where we had camped, and I saw that George Jones was put away in the best and most respect- able manner possible considering the circumstances by which we were governed at that time. We buried him entirely alone, near a yellow pine tree, and at his head we placed a rude pine board, dressed in as good a shape as could be done with such tools as were accessible to our use. On this board his name was engraved, also his age and the man- ner in which he came to his death, and the same is also to be seen on the yellow pine tree that stands near the grave of this once noble friend and hero of the plains. My brave and noble comrade, You have served your country true, Your trials and troubles are ended And you have bade this world adieu. You have been a noble companion, Once so trusty, true and brave; But now your cold and lifeless form Lies silent in the g:ave. While your form remains here with us In this wicked dismal land, Your soul has crossed the river And joined the angel band. The prisoners that were taken here Lieut Jackson sent to Fort Yuma and placed under guard, as Gen. Crook had made up his mind to capture all xhe Apaches A LONESOME SUMMER. 571 he could and try in that way to civilize them, but he made a total failure in regard to this particular tribe of Indians. I informed George’s father and mother of his death as soon as I could get a letter to them, telling them as soon as I returned to the fort I would draw his pay and send it it to them, which I did. When I talked to Lieut. Jackson ot quitting he said he could not spare me until the summer’s campaign was over, so I remained with him. We moved on and established our quarters at the same place as the year before, and a more lonesome summer I never put in anywhere than there. I was not able to do anything more than stay in camp and give orders until late in the season. Lieut. Jackson had two more engagements that season, but I was not able to be in either of them. The first one the soldiers killed nine Indians, and the other time the Indians made an attack on him while he, with twenty of his men, were escorting an emigrant train across the mountains. In this engagement the Lieuten- ant did not lose a man, and only three horses, and killed twenty-three Indians and gave them a chase of about ten miles. It was now getting late in the fall and Lieut. Jackson pulled out for the fort, and by that time I was just able to climb on my horse without assistance. We arrived at Fort Yuma about the first of November, and there I remained till the first of June, 1878. Before I left I made Mrs. Davis and her family a farewell visit. Two of her daughters were then married 572 QUIT SCOUTING. and lived near their mother, and all seemed to be in a prosperous condition. After a pleasant visit with the Davis folks I returned to the fort and commenced mak- ing preparations tc leave, but was delayed in starting at least a month on account of some soldiers who had served their time out and were going to return with me. I told my old friend Lieut. Jackson the day before start- ing that I did not think that there was another white man in the United States that had seen less of civiliza- tion or more of Indian warfare than I had, it now being just thirty-one years since I started out with Uncle Kit Carson onto the plains and into the mountains. When I left the fort this time it was with the deter- mination that I would not go into the scouting field again, and I have kept my word so far, and think I shall thus continue. I started out from the fort with twenty- three head of horses, and I packed the baggage of the four discharged soldiers in order to get them to help me with my loose horses. «— :o:^ A BEAR HUNT. 573 CHAPTER XLIV. A GRIZZLEY HUNTS THE HUNTER. SHOOTING SEALS IN Alaskan waters. — I become a Seattle hotel KEEPER AND THE BIG FIRE CLOSES ME OUT. SOME REST. On my arrival at San Francisco the first thing was to get rid of my surplus horses. During the time I was selling them I made the acquaintance of a man named Walter Fiske, who was engaged in raising Angora goats, about one hundred and twenty miles north from San Francisco, and who was something of a hunter also. Mr. Fiske invited me to go home with him and have a bear hunt. Being tired of the city, I accompanied Mr. Fiske to his ranch. He said he knew where there was a patch of wild clover on which the grizzlies fed, so we were off for a bear hunt. We soon found where they fed and watered. They had a plain trail from their feeding place to the water. Mr. Fiske being hard of hearing proposed that I stop on the feeding ground and he would take his stand down on the trail, and in case I should get into trouble I could run down the trail, and if he were to get into a tight place he would run up the trail to where I was. I took my stand and had not been there long until I saw, just behind, in about twenty feet of me, a huge grizzly 574 A LIVELY CHASE. bear coming for me on his hind feet. I did not see a tree that I could get behind or climb, so I took out along the trail as fast as I could, the grizzly after me. For the first fifty yards I had to run up grade and then I turned down hill. When I ^ reached the top of the hill I commenced to hallo at the top of my voice, ‘‘Lookout Walter, we are coming!” Walter was sitting only a few steps from the trail and the moment I passed him I heard the report of his gun. I jumped to one side and gave the bear a shot. I got SfW 14,1 <" * lx “Look out Walter, we are coming!” in two shots and Fiske four. After receiving this amount of lead the bear ran but a short distance and dropped BOUGHT A RANCH. 575 dead. All of the shots were near the bear’s heart. We dressed him and started home and we had bear meat enough to last for some time to come. In the mean time Mr. Fiske had told me about a man four miles from his place who had a ranch for sale, consisting of three hundred and twenty acres of deeded land, one hundred acres in cultivation, eighty bearing fruit trees and two acres of a vineyard. He said the place could be bought cheap, and he also told me that there was a vacant quar- ter section adjoining this land that I could take up, and I would have the finest goat ranch in the country. Mr. Fiske and I took a trip down and found the owner .very anxious to sell. After looking the ranch, over and get- ting his figures, I made him an offer of four thousand dollars for everything, which offer he accepted, he re- serving nothing but one span of horses, his bed and clothing. We then went to Santa Rosa, the county seat, to get an abstract of title and a deed to the property, and now I am once more an honest rancher. While in Santa Rosa I hired a man and his wife by the name of Benson, by the year. Mr. Benson proved to be a good man and his wife a splendid housekeeper. All went well for about five months, and having filed on the quarter of vacant land adjoining me, of course I had to move over there. I had noticed a change in Benson’s appearance, but had not thought much about it till one Saturday I sent him to haul some pickets over to my pre-emption claim. That night, having company, I did not go to the cabin on the claim, but stayed on the other place. Benson was not at supper that evening, but I paid no attention to it nor thought it strange, supposing he was 576 Benson insane. just a little late getting home. The next morning I no- ticed that he was not at the breakfast table, and I asked Mrs. Benson why Mr. Bensen didn’t come to his break- fast. She asked if I had not told him to stay on the pre-emption claim that night. I told her that I had not and that I had the key and he could not get into the house, and besides there was no feed there for the mules. She commenced to feel uneasy then. So as soon as breakfast was over I took one of my hired men and started out to hunt for him. We struck the wagon trail and tracked him around for some time. He had trav- eled in a terribly round about way. We finally came to him where he had run his team against a tree, and when we came upon him he was down in front of the mules whipping them around the fore legs trying to make them get down and pray. He did not notice us until I spoke to him and told him to quit whipping the mules. When he looked at me I could see that he was perfectly wild. It took us both three hours to get him back to the house. I sent for the constable, who took him to Santa Rosa and from there he was taken to the insane asylum. His wife went East to her folks, and I was told afterwards that he got all right. I next tried a Chinese housekeeper, but John China- man had too many relations in the country. There would be two or three Chinamen there almost every week to see my cook and would stay one or two nights. It was not what they ate that I cared for, but what they carried off. I tried ranching there for three years and during that time I had three different men with their wives, but r QUIT RANCHING. 577 there was always something wrong, too far from church or too far from neighbors, so I came to the conclusion that a man had no use with a ranch unless he had a wife. In the mean time I had proved up on my pre-emption, The Chinee housekeeper. and had all my land fenced in with a picket fence made of red wood pickets. I had also got sick and tired of ranching, not but what I had done fairly well, but it was too much bother for a man that had been raised as I had. 578 A HUNTING PARTY. I went to San Francisco and placed my land in the hands of a real estate agent for sale, and it was but a short time when he sent two men out to look at it. This was the fall of the year when my fruit was just beautiful and the grapes ripe in the vineyard, and we were not long in making a trade. In less than one month I was without a house or home, so I placed my money in the bank and arranged to get my interest semi-annually, and made up my mind to take things easy the balance of my days. About one year from that time I succeeded in getting up a hunting party, and we went up into the mountains in Mendocino county, where we found game in abun- dance, deer, elk and bear. I stayed out in the moun- tains nearly three months, during which time I killed the largest grizzly bear I have ever seen, weighing net, eight hundred and sixty pounds. This bear I killed at one shot, and it is the only grizzly that I ever killed at one shot in all my hunting. We also killed ten large elk. One man in the party killed an elk that the horns meas- ured from tip to tip, five feet and four inches, and those horns can be seen at the Lick House in San Francisco. He sold them for fifty dollars. I remained in San Francisco until in the spring of 1886, when there was a party fitting up a schooner to go sealing on the coast of Alaska, and I was offered a job as shooter. I agreed to go with them and they were to pay me two dollars for each seal that I killed. The first of April we started, and were twenty-two days getting to where there was seal. Now this was a new business to me, and my first seal SHOOTING SEALS. 579 hunting was near the mouth of the Yukon river. The captain anchored about twenty miles from land. There a piece for all the seals killed, they only got one dollar each, making in all four dollars each that the seals cost the company. In the morning the captain gives each man his course and instructions to return at once when the signal can- non is fired. The first morning that we started out we went about four miles before we saw any seal, when we ran on to a school sleeping on the water. The two boat- men pulled up among them and I turned loose to shoot- ing them and got six out of the outfit before they got away from us. Shooting seal out of a boat reminded me very much of shooting Indians when on a bucking cay- use, as the boat is always in motion, and it is all that a person can do to stand up in it when the sea is any ways rough. That day I killed nine seal and we were called in at two o’clock, as there was fog coming up, and we were six sealing Shooting Seal. the other a German; they were both stout and willing to work. While I received two dollars 580 LOST IN THE FOG. just got in ahead of it. We had fair success sealing until the last of August, when my crew ventured a little too far and the wind changed so that we did not hear the cannon and the fog caught us. Each crew when starting out in the morning always took supplies along sufficient to last twenty-four hours. This time when we got caught in the fog the wind had changed on us, so we tried to remain as near the same place as possible, but this time we had to guess at it as we could not always tell just which way the tide was going. This was beyond any doubt the worst trip that I ever experienced, the fog was very cold and our clothing wet. We were out three days and nights and then were picked up by another schooner. The captain of the schoon- er that picked us up heard the firing of our cannon that morning and we were picked up about noon. He at once set sail for our schooner, firing the sig- nal cannon every half hour, reaching our schooner jnst as it was growing dark, and the captain and crew had given us up for lost. We KEEPING HOTEL. 5 8l stayed out until the last of September, when we sailed for San Francisco, and this wound up my seal hunting. There was only one other man in the crew that killed more seal than I did during the season, but I made the largest day’s killing of any one in the crew, that being twenty seven. But one season was enough for me in that line of business. I concluded that I would much rather take my chances on dry land. In the spring of 1887 I took a trip to the Puget Sound country and found Seattle a very lively place; in fact, as much so as any place I had ever seen in my life. After remaining in Seattle about two months I concluded that I would try my hand at the hotel business, as that was something I had not tried, so I bought out a man named Smith, who owned a big hotel on the corner of South second and Washington streets, just opposite John Court’s Theatre Building, paying Mr. Smith sixteen thousand dollars for the property, and besides this I spent one thousand two hundred dollars in repairing and fitting it up in shape. I gave it the name of ‘ 'Riverside House.” Here I built up a good business in the hotel line. In fact, inside of six months from the time I opened up I had all that I could accommodate all the time, and this was the first time in my life that I had been perfectly satisfied. I had all the business I could attend to, and was making money, and as fast as I could accumulate a little money I invested it in different parts of the city in good property. In the month of May, 1889, two brothers named Clark, from Chicago, came to my hotel for the purpose of 582 BURNED OUT. buying me out, but I told them my property was not for sale, as I was satisfied and liked the business and did not think I could A\ r - 1 find a place that would suit me better; but about the first of June they returned and made me a n offer o f twenty thou- sand dollars. I told them that I would ? not sell at any price, as I was satisfied and intended to re- main there as long as I lived On the morning of the sixth of June, 1889, my clerk came to my room and woke me up, saying that there was a fire in the northern part of town and that the wind was blowing strong from that direction. I dressed at once, and when I got out on the street 1 could see the fire about a half mile from my property, but had not the faintest idea that it would ever reach me, although the excitement was running high on the street. I returned to the hotel, washed, and was just eating my breakfast when one of the waiters came and told me that he could see the fire from the door. 1 told he must be mistaken, but he went and looked again Mv clerk woke me u^, raying there was a fire. A HEAVY LOSS. 583 and came back and told me that the fire was getting very close. I ran to the door and saw that it was then within one block of my hotel. Now I saw that my property was sure to be burnt, so I sent my clerk up stairs to see whether or not there were any lodgers in the rooms, and I made a rush for the safe and only just had time to get it unlocked and the contents out when the fire was on us. That fire wiped me out slick and clean as I did not have a dollar’s worth of insurance on the property. Any business man would have known enough at least to have a few thousand dollars of insurance on that amount of property, but I had never seen a fire before in a city and thought it folly to insure, and did not find out my mis- take until it was too late. During the next six months I had a number of offers of money to build a brick hotel on my lots, but I could not think for a moment of bor- rowing the money for that purpose. I remained in Seattle for nine months, during which time there was a great decrease in the value of property, and I sold my lots where my hotel had stood at a very reduced price. I tried various speculations on a small scale during this time, but with very poor success. By this time I had spent and lost in speculation about all the money that I had realized for my property, and the outside property that I owned I could not sell at any price. Since that time I have wandered around from pillar to post, catching a little job here and there, and at this writing I am temporarily located at Moscow, Idaho, which is situated in the heart of the famous Palouse 5*4 CONCLUSION. country, one of the greatest countries on the globe for the growing of wheat, oats, barley, rye, flax and vege- tables of all kinds. And now kind reader, begging your pardon, I would say that I have been two years making up my mind to £ each, botau^ In OkrtMfe TEN YEARS A COW BOY. A full and vivid de scription of frontier life, including romance, advent* ure and all the varied experiences incident to a lift on the plains as cow boy, stock owner, rancher, etc, together with articles on cattle and sheep raising how to make money, description of the plains, etCo, etc. Illustrated with ioo full-page engravings, and contains reading matter 471 pages. W ILD LIFE IN THE FAR WEST, By C. H. Simpson, a resident detective, living in this country. Giving a full and graphic account of his thrilling adventures among the Indians and outlaws of Mon* /ana — including hunting, hair-breadth escapes, captivity, punishment and difficulties of all kinds met with in this wild and lawless country, Illus< irated by 30 full-page engravings, by G. S. Littlejohn, and contains read •ng matter 264 pages. A YANKEE’S ADVENTURES IN SOUTH AFRICA. (In the dia mond country.) By C. H. Simpson. Giving the varied experiences adventures, dangers and narrow escapes of a Yankee seeking his fortune in this wild country, which by undaunted courage, perseverance, suffering, fighting and adventures of various sorts is requited at. last by the ownership of the largest diamond taken out of the Kimbeily mines? up to that time, and with the heart and hand of the fairest daughter of a diamond kin^ Containing 30 full-page illustrations by H. DeLay and reading matter 220 pages. WIT, Contains sketches from Mark Twain, witticismt from F, H. Carruth, Donglas Jerrold, M. Quad, Op e Reid, Mrs. Partington, Eli Perkins, O’Malley, Bill Nye, Artemus Ward, Abe Lincoln, Burdette, Daniel Webster, Victor Hugo, Brother Gardner, Clinton Scollard, Tom Hood, L. R. Catlin, Josh. Billings ( Chauncey Depew and all humorous writers of mod ern times Illustrated with 75 full page engravings, by H, DeLay and contains reading matter 407 pages B ENONX AND SERAPTA A Story of the Time of the Great Coo stantine, Founder of the Christian Faith By Douglas Vernon, A religious novel showing a Parsee s constancy and faith through many persecutions trials and difficulties placed in his way by priests, nobles jnd queens of his time and his final triumph over all obstacles. Being an interesting novel, intended to show the state of the religious feelings and unscrupulous intrigues of those professing religion at th<& tame of the foundation of the Christian faith. Illustrated with 33 ft# mm* hf BL B©La^n ©©©tear* 8 wMss 3% mt&m. G LIMPSES OF HOOSIERDOM. A selection of Humorous and Pathetic Poems, which, together, give a most vivid and delightful description of the life, the thinking and feelings of the farmer of Irdiana. The Poems are truly original, and show that the author is a r sident of the State he sings about, and has lived through most of the incidents he depicts in a truly fascinating way. Copiously illustrated. Deamor R. Drake. 268 pages. LOTS AND PENALTIES. A selection of Political stories, taken from life, and told by W. H. Hinrichsen, “Buck,” a man who held the position of Secretary of State of Illinois. These stories do not give a one-sided view of the Comedies and Tragedies that occur in Politics but will prove of valu3 and highest interest to the Democrat and Republican alike. True Humor and deepest Pathos go here hand in hand, and the book, once opened, will be rarely laid aside without that feeling of true satisfaction that comes after the perusal of literature, based on real life, and built by genius. Copiously illustrated. 458 pages. T HE PIONEER’S HOARD. A Thrillng Ro- mance of the Ozarks by Scott Van Gorden. A vivid, graphic tale of the reign of the Out- laws in those Mountains of the West, and their downfall and final extermination by the Regulators. Combat and Bloodshed, Indian warwhoops, and wild, dark night scenes blend most luckily with courtship and love-making, and offer a story to lovers of sensational litera- ture that will hold them sp 2II bound from beginning to end. Illustrated with twenty-three full page engravings by H. S. De Lay. 530 pages. Standard Publications, $1.00 each. Cloth-bound. B IBLE CHARACTERS. A collection of Sermons by the most renowned divines of their times on these subjects. A beauliful and inspiring book, that ought to find its place into every home where good and elevating literature is sought after. Henry Ward Beecher, Dr. Talmage, Joseph Parker, Dr. Guthrie, etc. 32 full-page illustrations from the famous paint- ings by Gustave Dore. 894 pages. Standard Publications, $1.00 each, Cloth-bound They are idols of home and of house- holds; They are Angels of God in disguise. His sunlight sleeps in their tresses; His glory still gleams in their eyes. S tories for the little ones AT HOME. 320 pages. “This hand- somely illustrated book has been com- piled and arranged by one who is best able to tell what is good for the instruc- tion and amusement of the children. ” — A Mother. Many of the rhymes are original, but a large number are old favorites that will interest the old folk as reminiscences of their childhood days. The illustrations are numerous and designed to amuse and interest the little ones at home. G EMS OF POETRY. 407 pages. Finely illustrated. Contains a very choice and varied selection of our most popular, beautiful and time-honored poems, written by the poets of all ages and climes. A magnificent gift book for a friend; a splendid book for the holidays; appropriate for a birthday or wedding present; a fine center table book, interesting to all. K IDNAPPED; OR, SECRETS OF A GREAT MYSTERY. By A. Stewart Manly. Illustrated by H. S. De Lay. 428 pages. S OCIAL KNOTS UNTIED. A Series of Practical and Popular Sermons delivered by T. De Witt Taimage, D. D. Handsomely illustrated. 475 pages. L UCKY TEN BAR OF PARADISE VALLEY. His humorous, pathetic and tragic adventures. Copiously illustrated by H. S. De Lay. His travels by reproductions from photographs, consti- tuting almost a Pictorial America. By C. M. Stevens. 600 pages. EARLS FROM MANY SEAS. A collection of the best thoughts of four hundred writers of wide repute. Selected and classified by Rev. J. B. McClure. Illustrated with 51 full page engravings selected especially for this work from the great art galleries of the world. A volume of rare value and interest to all lovers of good literature. 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