While we were traveling down the Arkansas river I saw a sight I had never seen before and never have since. Two Buck Deer locked fast together by their horns. I had been told of such things and have since, but that is the only time I ever saw it myself. We were very near them before we saw them. They were in a little open prairie. I called Jim's attention to them as soon as I saw them. He said, "I'll be gol durned if that ain't the second time I ever saw such a sight, and now we will have some fun out of them bucks."

We dismounted and walked up near them, and by the looks of the ground which was torn and tramped for quite a distance we decided that they had been in that condition quite a while. Jim said, "How in the plague, Will, are we going to get these critters apart? They are too plaguey poor to eat, so we don't want to kill them, and they will die if we leave them in this fix; what shall we do, Will?"

I thought a minute and said, "Can't we take our little ax and chop one of their horns off?"

He said, "I hadn't thought of that, but bring me the ax and I will try it."

I ran to the pack horse and got the ax. He said, "Now you go back to the horses; for if I get them loose they may want to fight us."

So I went to the horses and looked back to see what Jim was doing. He went up to them with the ax drawn ready to strike but it was quite a bit before they were quiet enough for him to get a good hit at them. At last he made a strike and down went one of the deer. Instead of striking the deer's horn he struck him right back of the horn and killed him instantly; when Jim saw what he had done he made another hit at the dead buck's horn and freed the live one, which ran thirty or forty yards and stopped and turned around and shook his head at us a half a dozen times and then he trotted away as if nothing had happened.

Jim laughed and said, "He never stopped to thank us, did he? Well he ain't much different from some people." I said, "Why, Jim he meant "thank you" when he shook his head at us; that is all the way he could say it, you know," to which he replied, "Well, I saved one of them any way."

Nothing occurred of interest from this time on until we reached our journey's end at Taos, New Mexico. Here we found Uncle Kit and his wife both enjoying good health and a warm welcome for his boy Willie, and his old friend Jim Bridger.

After supper that night we told Uncle Kit that we had traveled from the Sacramento river, California to Taos, New Mexico in thirty-three days, and that we never saw a hostile Indian on the trip, and neither had had any trouble of any kind to detain us a half an hour on the whole trip. He said, "That is a wonderful story to hear, when there are so many wild Indians in that part of the country. Now boys tell me what route you came."

We marked out the route by different streams and mountains. He looked at the map we had drawn and said, "I will venture to say there is not two men in all the country that could make that trip over that route and get through alive. I will say again, boys, it is some thing wonderful to think of, and you must have been protected by a higher power than your selves to get through in safety."

We staid with Uncle Kit a couple of weeks and rested up, and then we struck out for Bent's Fort to make up our crew to go to our trapping ground for our winter's work.

Uncle Kit accompanied us to Bent's Fort; and all the trappers were anxious to get in his employ from the fact that the report had gone out that the Sioux and the Utes were on the war path, and all the trappers knew that these two tribes were the strongest hostile tribes in the west, and when fifty miles from Bent's Fort we never knew that we were safe and the trappers all had confidence in Uncle Kit's judgment that he seldom made a mistake in locating his trapping ground, and further more he had more influence with the Indians than any other man in the country, so they worked rather for him than take chances with any one else.

The next morning after we reached Bent's Fort I heard Mr. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux talking with Carson in regard to the trappers. Mr. Bent said, "Carson, I wish you would take as many as you can handle, for they all have an Indian scare on them and are afraid to go out, and every one of them is indebted to us for board now; and we can not afford to support them if they loaf around here all winter," to which Carson replied, "I can handle five or six of them, and that is all I want, I can not afford to take men out in the mountains and board them all winter for nothing." After thinking a minute Carson asked, "How many of the men have their own traps and blankets?"

Mr. Roubidoux said, he thought nearly all of the trappers at the Fort had their own trapping outfits with them. Carson said he would think it over and see what he could do for them. That afternoon Carson and Bridger had a talk with regard to how many men they should take with them. Uncle Kit said, "We haven't horses enough to carry more than three or four besides us three." Bridger said, "That will not make any difference, if they want to go they can foot it from here to the head of South Platte as that's where we are going to trap this winter; and when they are through in the spring they can foot it back again. We have nine pack horses besides our saddle horses, and we can pack out to the trapping grounds, an outfit for five or six men besides our own all in good shape."

That afternoon Uncle Kit and Bridger made arrangements with six men to go with us to the head of South Platte to trap Beaver that winter. Carson and Bridger agreed to furnish them with flour, coffee, salt, and tobacco for which Carson and Bridger were to have half of the furs that each man caught, Carson and Bridger to pack the grub and every thing else out to the trapping ground and also to pack the furs and all their other things back to Bent's Fort in the Spring. After Carson and Bridger had selected the six men they wanted, it seemed as though all the trappers at the Fort wanted to go with them. Carson told them he had engaged all he could handle. The next two days we spent in getting ready to go to our trapping grounds. On the morning of the third day every thing in readiness we bid farewell to all the people at the Fort and struck out for the trapping grounds and our winter's work. The men that had to walk did not wait for us but started as soon as they had breakfast.

Uncle Kit told them where we would camp the first night. They got there before we did, and they had killed the fattest deer I ever saw and had killed a Cub Bear. They were skinning them when we got to camp. The deer was a spike buck and when he was skinned he was as white as a sheep from pure fat. The reader may be sure we were not long in unpacking and getting ready for supper; every one was tired and hungry for we had not had any thing to eat since morning. For my supper I roasted two of the cub's feet, and I have never enjoyed a meal since that tasted better. While we were eating Jim Bridger looked at me and said, "Will, you have the best of me tonight, but when we get to the Beaver grounds I'll have a Beaver's tail roasted for my supper and then I'll be even with you."

I never saw a band of men enjoy a meal more than those men did that night. In this climate people have better appetites than any climate I have ever been. I think the reason for this was the air was so pure and invigorating and it naturally required more food to sustain the body and keep it in good health, and at that time sickness was very rare in that part of the country. It would seem unreasonable to tell how much meat a man ate at one meal, especially when out on a trip like this when he was out in the open air all the time, night as well as day.

The third day after leaving this camp we struck the South Platte river, and now we had another change of meat, which was mountain sheep. This is in my opinion the best wild game that roams the forest.

We made an early camp that night and Uncle Kit said to Jim Bridger and me, "You two boys get the meat for supper and the rest of us will look after the horses." We picked up our guns and started up the river; we had not gone far when in looking up on a high bluff we saw a band of mountain sheep. Jim said, "Now if we can reach that little canyon," and he pointed to one just ahead of us, "without them fellows seeing us we will sure have something good for supper." This we succeeded in doing and then we crawled around until we were within fifty yards of our game. We selected a couple of spring lambs and fired and brought them both down. When the men at the camp heard the firing a couple of the men came running to help us bring our game to camp. We soon had it dressed and ready for cooking, and it was good and every one of the men ate as if they enjoyed it as much as I did. While we were eating supper Jim told us a story of his coming in contact with a panther that had just killed a sheep, and he said it was a miracle that it did not kill him. He was coming down a bluff on a little trail and as good luck had it he had his gun in his hand. The panther had the sheep behind a rock and as the panther sprang at him he fired and broke its neck.

"It was the luckiest shot I ever fired," said he, "for if I had not had my gun all ready to fire he would have torn me to pieces before I could have helped myself."

Uncle Kit said, "Well, Jim, you were in about as close a place as I got into once. I went out from my camp fire one night perhaps forty yards to a small tree. I didn't have any pistol or gun with me, I had nothing but my hunting knife to protect myself with when a half-grown panther sprang out of the tree on me and, maybe you think I didn't have a lively time there with him for a few minutes, but I finally got the best of him by cutting him almost to pieces. He tore my buck skin breeches and coat pretty near off me and left this scar on my arm before I finished him," and Carson pulled his sleeve up and showed us a scar that must have been torn almost to the bone.

Two days from this we reached the place where we made our headquarters for the winter. That night the men talked it over and made their plans how many should camp together. They agreed that there should be three in each camp as there were nine of us in all. That made the number even in each camp. Next morning they all put out leaving me to look out for the horses and things in general.

For the benefit of the reader I will explain how we arranged a camp where a number of men were associated together in trapping beaver. We built our camps about four miles apart which gave each camp two miles square to work on, and this was ample room, for this was a new field and Beaver was as thick as rats around a wharf.

While they were gone I took my gun and started out to take a little stroll around where the horses were feeding. I had gone but a short distance when I looked up. On a mountain, north of me I saw a band of elk with perhaps seventy five or a hundred in it, and they were coming directly towards me; I was satisfied in my mind that they were going to the river to get water. I dropped down behind a log and waited for them to come close to me. The nearest one was twenty yards from me when I fired. I shot at a two-year-old heifer and broke her neck. I then went back to camp to see if any of the men had come in as it was near noon. I thought some of them would be back and sure enough in a few minutes they all came together; I told them what I had done, and Uncle Kit said, "Jim and I will get dinner and the balance of you go and help Willie bring in his cow."

We found her in fine condition. We soon had her skinned and in camp, and we found dinner ready when we got back. After dinner Uncle Kit said, "Come boys let's pack up and move to our camp which is only about a half a mile from here, and tomorrow, while Jim and me are at work on our shanty, Willie can help you to move to your quarters, and you can be building your shanties, so we can get to work as soon as possible."

We gathered every thing together and moved it to the ground where we were going to make our winter quarters, and Uncle Kit and Jim selected the place to build our cabin, and the men all turned to and went to chopping the logs and putting up the cabin. By night the body of the cabin was almost up, but the reader must bear in mind that this was not a very large house. It was ten feet one way, and twelve the other, with a fire place built in one corner. They built the walls of the shack seven foot high and then covered it with small poles, covered the poles with fine bows and then there was from six to eight inches of dirt packed on them and the cracks were stuffed with mud. The door was split out of logs called puncheons and was fastened together with wooden pins, driven into holes, bored with an auger. This way of building a house to live in through the winter may seem strange to the readers who are accustomed to all the luxuries of the modern home of civilization; but we considered our cabin very good quarters, and we were very comfortable that winter.

The first morning after we were settled in our new home we commenced setting traps for Beaver. Jim Bridger was the lucky man of the whole outfit in catching Beaver all that winter. Each man had twelve traps which was called a string, and a number of times that winter Bridger had a beaver in every one of his traps in the morning. I had watched him set his traps many times and I tried to imitate him in every particular, but I never had the luck he had.

Uncle Kit told me a number of times that winter that it was a good trapper that made an average of catching five Beaver a day, during the trapping season. We were all very successful this winter. Beaver was very plentiful, as there had never been any trappers in this part of the country before, and besides that was an exceptional good winter for trapping. The winter was quite cold, but there was not much snow all winter for that country. We stayed here and trapped until the very last of March, and when we had the furs all baled and ready for packing we found we did not have horses enough to take them all out at one time, so Uncle Kit and Jim Bridger packed the seven horses and rode the other two and struck out for Bent's Fort, telling us they would come back as soon as they could make the trip; and to our surprise they were back on the tenth day.

We had everything ready for them to break up camp when they came back, and we had all we could carry the second time. All of the nine horses were packed, and we all had to walk to Bent's Fort.

After we left the Platte we took up a stream called Sand Creek which leads to the divide between the Platte and the Arkansas rivers. After we camped that night Carson said to the boys, "Now we have had a pretty good variety of meat this winter, but we haven't had any antelope, but we are in the greatest country for antelope in the west now. Can't one of you boys kill one tomorrow for supper? But I am sorry for Jim and Will for Jim can't get a Beaver's tail off of it, and there won't be any bear's foot for Will to eat."

Jim answered, "You needn't worry about Will and me, for we may make you sorry twice, for when we get at the Antelope there may not be enough for the balance of you."

After breakfast next morning two of the men struck ahead in order to get the antelope. Near the trail about ten o'clock we overtook them, and they had killed two nice young antelope. One said that if they had had ammunition enough with them they could have loaded the train with antelope. That day we saw a number of bands of antelope, and I venture to say there were as many as eight hundred or a thousand in each band.

At supper that night Jim Bridger and I convinced Uncle Kit that we had not lost our appetite, if we didn't have Beaver's tail and Bear's foot for supper.

The second day after leaving this camp we landed at Bent's Fort about the middle of the afternoon. That evening and all the next day Carson and Bridger were counting the pelts and paying off the men for the furs they had trapped during the winter. Each man had a mark of his own which he put on all his hides as he took them off the animal. I noticed one man always clipped the left ear; that was his mark. Having a private mark for each man saved a great deal of trouble and dispute when the time came to separate the furs and give each man his due.

I heard Carson and Bridger talking after they had settled with the men, and Bridger said, "We have done twice as well as I expected we would do the past winter."

Carson answered, "Jim, we had an extra good crew of men. Every man worked for all that was in him and when they earned a dollar for themselves they earned one for us. I am more than satisfied with our winter's work and what it brought us."

He then asked Jim and me what we intended to do that summer; Jim answered, "We are going back to Fort Kerney to pilot emigrants across to California, and it is time we were off now, for I believe by the first of May there will be lots of emigrants there, and we want to get there, and get the first train out, and if it is possible we are going to make two trips across the plains this season."



CHAPTER III.

The next morning Carson left Bent's Fort taking his four horses with him going to his home at Taos, New Mexico, and Jim and I, taking five horses, pulled out for Fort Kerney. Nothing of interest happened to us on the way; and we made the trip in eleven days. As soon as we got to the Fort, we called on the General; he was very glad to see us, and invited us to stay all night with him. We accepted his invitation. That evening at supper General Kerney mentioned my rescuing the two women at the head of Honey Lake the year before; he recounted the incident very much as it took place.

I said to him, "General, how in the name of common sense did you hear of all that?"

He said, "Why the eastern papers have been full of it; and it will be the best thing for you two men that could have happened; for no doubt there will be hundreds of people here on their way to California, and when they see you two men who are the heroes of that expedition they will all want your services to pilot them across the plains, and I assure you if there is any thing I can do to assist either of you in any way I am more than willing to do it. I heard yesterday that there were several small trains on the way coming from St. Joe, and they will be here in a few days, so you are in good time to catch the first of them, and I want you both to stay right here with me until you make arrangements to leave for California. We will take a trip down the road every day, and if there are any emigrants coming we will meet them."



After breakfast next morning an orderly brought in our horses, all saddled, the General's as well as ours. We all mounted and started down the road. We had made five or six miles when we saw an emigrant train coming towards us. The General said, "Look, boys, there they come now. Let me do the talking."

The General had his uniform on, and Jim and I were dressed in buck-skin from head to foot, and we were a rather conspicuous trio, as we rode up to them. There were six or eight men on horse back, riding ahead of the train. As we met them the General saluted them. One of the men said, "Is this the commander at the Fort?"

The General answered, "I am. My name is Kerney."

One of the men said, "General, can you tell us whether the Indians are on the war path or not between here and Salt Lake?"

The General answered, "I surely can. Every tribe of Indians between here and the Sierra Nevada mountains is on the war path, and the emigrants who get through this year without losing their lives or their stock may consider themselves lucky," and pointing to Jim and me, he continued. "These two men took a train through last year and only lost two men and would not have lost them if they had obeyed orders."

One of the men asked, "Are these the men that piloted a train across and had the trouble at Honey Lake last year?"

The General answered, "Yes, sir, they are, and that boy sitting on that iron gray horse is the boy that planned and led the rescue of the two women from the Indians."

One asked, "Are these the two men the papers said so much about last fall? I think one was named Jim Bridger and the other's name was William Drannan."

General Kerney smiled and answered, "Yes, these are the very men."

By this time the train had come up, and the other men of the company gathered around us and being told who we were they all shook hands with us, besides a great many of the ladies got out of the wagons and came to us offering their hands. The people were all from Missouri and Illinois. A man by the name of Tullock from Missouri asked us what we would charge to pilot their train to California. Jim Bridger turned to me and said, "Will, what do you think it would be worth?"

I said to the man who had asked the question, "Drive on about five miles, and you will find a little creek and plenty of grass. Go into camp there and select five or ten men to act as a committee, and we will be there at four o'clock to meet you. You must give your committee full power to deal with us. The committee must know the number of wagons, the number of men, and the number of grown women; it will be more satisfactory to you as well as to us to deal with a few men than for the whole train to take a part in the business."

This plan seemed to meet with the approval of the men, so General Kerney, Jim Bridger and I left them and rode back to the Fort. On the way back the General asked Bridger how much he meant to charge the emigrants to take the train across.

Bridger said, "What do you say, Will?"

I answered, "Jim, I look at it this way, we are held responsible for the people's lives as well as their stock to get them to California in safety; just think of the responsibility we are assuming; and as far as I am concerned I will not undertake the job for less then four dollars a day."

Bridger answered, "That settles it, Will, that's just my price."

The General said, "I think you are very moderate in your charges; I should think they would jump at such a chance; for I assure you, you will have your hands full day and night."

After we had eaten our dinner at the Fort Gen. Kerney accompanied us back to the emigrant's camp. On our arriving there we found the committee waiting to receive us. Mr. Tullock introduced us to the others, and then said, "We want you to tell us what amount of money you will charge us to pilot us across the plains to California."

I said, "Gentlemen, I want to ask you a few questions before I answer yours; how many wagons have you in this train?" Mr. Tullock answered, "Sixty four." "How many men?" "One hundred and forty-eight." "How many women?" "Sixty four."

I then said, "I will now answer your question as to our price. If we take charge of this train from here to California our price will be four dollars a day to each of us, with this understanding that Mr. Bridger has entire charge of the wagons both day and night, and I to have the charge of the scout force. Now, gentlemen, I don't suppose any of you know what the duty of a scout is, and I will explain it to you. Twenty miles from here we will strike a country where all the Indians are hostile, and for the next twelve hundred miles they are all on the war path; now, if we undertake this job we shall want twelve good men to help me in scouting; each of the twelve to be mounted, and our duty will be to protect the train; three men to ride in the rear of the train and three on each side, each three to keep about a half a mile from the train, and the other three in the lead, and the duty of these scouts will be when they see Indians coming towards the train to notify Mr. Bridger at once, so he can corral the wagons to protect the women and children and the stock, and my duty will be to ride to the highest hills on either side of the road to keep a lookout for Indians all through the day, and at night to watch for their camp fires. Now, gentlemen, I have told you our terms and if you decide to employ us, it will take four or five days to drill the outfit so it will be safe for us to start on this long and dangerous journey. Now, it is for you to say what you will do."

Gen. Kerney then spoke for the first time. "Let me say a word, gentlemen. These men know every camping ground and every watering place and also every Indian run way from here to the Sierra Nevada mountains, and you could not find better men for guides on the frontier, and the price they ask for the dangerous service they will give you is the least you can expect to give."

The committee walked away from us a short distance, and talked among them selves about a half an hour, and then came to us, and said they would accept our offer. Bridger then said, "Now gentlemen I want you to pick out twelve men that are not afraid to ride alone and have number-one eyesight and good hearing, for no doubt there will be many times when the fate of the whole train will depend on these twelve men. Will will start in to train them tomorrow morning if they are ready, and he will tell them and show them just what they have got to do; and I want every teamster to have his team hooked to his wagon by nine o'clock in the morning. It is not necessary for you to take down your tents or move any of your camp equipage at all; for I will drill the teamsters out on that little prairie yonder," and he pointed to a clear space a little ways up the road.

After these arrangements were made General Kerney went back to the Fort, and Jim and I staid at the emigrants' camp that night, so we could be up early the next morning to commence our work of drilling the men for the coming trip. My men reported to me soon after breakfast, and they were all fairly well mounted and well armed, each man having a pistol and a rifle. We mounted our horses and rode about a half a mile away from camp. We stopped and I explained to them what we had to do. After showing them and drilling them about two hours I asked them if any of them had ever shot from his horse's back. They said they never had; neither had they ever seen any one shoot that way. I went a short distance to a tree and made a cross mark with my knife. I then said to them, "Now, my men I will show you what you must learn to do."

I then rode a hundred yards from the tree I had marked, turned my horse, put spurs to him and had him running at his best. When I came near the tree, I fired my pistol and also my rifle as I passed the tree and didn't miss the mark over a foot with either shot. When I returned the men were examining the bullet holes I had put in the tree. One of them said, "That is wonderful shooting. But what seems to be a mystery is how you can use both your gun and your pistol so near together."

I showed them how it was done, and then I said to them, "You will have to practice this way of shooting when fighting with the Indians. They never stand up and fight like a white man does, and if they should attack us they will be on horse back, as that is their general mode of fighting, and you are liable to meet them any moment, and you will be in a country some of the time where you can not see a hundred yards ahead of you, and you must always be prepared to give them a warm reception. When we come out here this afternoon I want you to all try your hand at shooting the way I have just done, from off your horse's back with him on the run."

I met Jim at dinner, and asked him what success he had training his teamsters. He answered, "Why, we will get there bye and bye, for every man tries to do his best."

At that moment two of the committee came to where Jim and I stood talking and said, "There is another large train of emigrants in sight. What are you going to do with them?"

"I don't intend to do any thing with them," Jim answered. "It is the business of you men of the committee to look after them, but if they join this train they will have to bear their share of the expense, the same as you do."

One of the men asked how much extra we would charge to take the other train under our protection. Jim answered, "If there are forty wagons or over that number, we will require one dollar a day extra and that will lighten the expense on this train, and they must comply with all the rules this train does; and if they are going to join us, I want them to do so at once, for I want to get away from here day after tomorrow."

The man said he would attend to the matter at once, which he did, and all of the new train joined us with the exception of four wagons and eleven men. These eleven men claimed they could take care of themselves at all times and in every place, and they pulled out alone.

The train over which Jim and I had control now numbered one hundred and four wagons, and we had to work day and night to get them in shape to start out on the road. We left there the third day after taking charge of the train. That afternoon when I took my scouts out to practice shooting, I had considerable sport at their expense. They were all perfectly willing to try their guns and pistols, but they wanted some one to take the lead. No one was willing to be the first one to shoot. So I said, "I will settle the matter this way. I will call the name of a man, and he must take his place and shoot." The first man I called rode out saying, "I have never shot from the back of a horse." I answered, "Well, there is always a first time for everything, and the quicker you start in the sooner you will learn."

He rode off a short distance, whirled his horse and started for the tree. When he got to within a few steps of the mark he fired his pistol, and made a very good shot, but the report of the pistol frightened his horse, and he wheeled and ran in the opposite direction of the one he was going, and he had run about two hundred yards before he could stop him. When the man rode back and saw the shot he had made, he felt encouraged, and said, "I want to try that over again."

I answered, "All right, load your pistol and try again, and I will ride by your side and perhaps that will quiet your horse."

This time he did fine for a green hand at that way of shooting. The next man I called on fired his pistol before he got near the tree, and his horse commenced to jump, and he dropped his gun. At that moment Gen. Kerney rode up to us and said to the man, "That is one time, young man, when if you had been in an Indian fight you might have lost your scalp and you surely would have lost your gun. You must do better than that. You must all take an interest in what Mr. Drannan is trying to teach you to do, for you will need all the knowledge you can get to protect not only your selves but the whole train before you get to California. The Indians are all on the war path and you are liable to have a brush with them any day after you leave Fort Kerney, and Mr. Drannan is fully competent to teach you how to meet them, if you will follow his instructions."

After talking a little longer to the men the Gen. rode away; and I was glad to see that his advice had a good effect on the men; they all seemed anxious to try their hand at shooting instead of being backward as they had been before, and I heard one of them remark to another, "Say, man, we have got to learn to shoot from our horses for that General knows what he is talking about, and now let's get in and learn as quick as we can."

After they had all had a try single handed at the mark on the tree I said, "Now men, we will take a shot all together."

I then made a mark on the ground, about twenty steps from the tree we had been shooting at. I then said to them, "We will go back to our starting place," which was about two hundred yards, "then we will form in, line, and we will make a dash as fast as our horses can carry us. When we reach this mark I have made on the ground I will shout, "Fire!" and every man must be ready to fire together, and be careful that you keep in line together; for if you break your ranks in an Indian fight you are almost sure to lose the battle; this drill will train your horses at the same time it is training you."

We rode back, formed in line, and made the charge, and I was very much surprised at the way the men all acquitted them selves. When I gave the word "fire," the report was almost as one sound, so close were their shots together. I went up to the tree and I found that every man had the mark. I told them that they had done exceptionally well.

"It is getting near night, so we will go back to camp and after supper we will practice signaling for one to use in case of danger to the others."

When we got back to camp Bridger had just finished corralling the whole train, and I was surprised to see how neatly it was done considering the short time they had been drilling; I asked Jim when he would be ready to pull out. He answered, "I am going to order an early breakfast for tomorrow morning; and we will pull out as soon as we can after we have eaten it. I want to make it to the crossing of the Platte tomorrow, and it will take us all of the next day to cross the river, and as the river has commenced to rise, the quicker we get across it, the better it will be for us; after we cross the Platte we will have no more trouble with high water until we get to Green river."

After supper I got my scouts together, and we went outside of the corral; we all sat down on a log. I then asked them if any of them could mimic a Coyote; they all looked at me a moment, and then one said, "I don't think any of us ever saw a Coyote. What are they? What do they look like?"

I could not help laughing, for I thought everyone knew what a Coyote was. I told them that a Coyote was a species of Wolf, not as dangerous as the Grey Wolf but three of them could make more noise than all the dogs around the camp could, and I said, "You will see them in droves between here and California, being so numerous the Indians pay no attention to them; and we scouts often use the howl of a Coyote as a signal to each other because this noise will not attract the attention of the Indians; I will now show you how the Coyote howls."

I then gave two or three yelps mimicking the Coyote, and before I had given the yelp the Coyotes answered me. They were about two hundred yards from us in the brush. Some of the men jumped to their feet exclaiming, "What was that?"

When I could stop laughing I told them those were my Coyote friends, answering me.

The Coyotes and I kept up the howling several minutes, and quite a crowd of men and women gathered around me, listening to the noise, and they all wanted to know what it was that I was mimicking. Before I could answer them Jim Bridger, who had come near unobserved by me, said, "Will, suppose we give them the double howl?"

I said, "All right," and we howled together just a few times when the Coyotes in the brush turned loose and such howling I never had heard before in all my experience among them. A number of the women rushed up to Jim and me, frightened nearly into spasms, crying, "oh, is there any danger, of those dreadful beasts attacking the camp?"

Jim laughed heartily and assured them there was no danger as the Coyote was the greatest coward in the forest and would run at the sight of a man. I told the men that they would not have any scout duty to do until after we crossed the Platte river, so we could all ride along the trail together and practice the coyote signal, for they would need to know it as soon as they crossed the Platte river.

The next morning we were astir very early, had our breakfast and were on the road. A little after sunrise that morning, just as we were pulling out, Jim said to me, "When we are within five or six miles of the Platte I want you to go on ahead of the train and select a camping ground as near the crossing of the river as you can; for if we camp near the crossing we can get the train over the river very much quicker than we can if we camp a distance back."

I left them in time to reach the river an hour before the train and had good luck selecting a place to camp not a quarter of a mile from the crossing. I found a little grove of timber with a beautiful little stream of water running through it which I thought was just the place for us to camp that night. I went back and reported to Jim. He said, "Why, I ought to have remembered that little grove, but I clean forgot it."

As soon as Jim had corralled the train, we turned our horses over to the herders and struck out down to the river to see what condition the water was in, and to our satisfaction we found that it had just commenced to rise. Jim said, "As soon as you have eaten breakfast in the morning, Will, I wish you would ride down here and cross the river and see if the ford is clear of quick sand. If there is nothing of that kind to bother us we ought to get the whole outfit over by noon."

When we returned to camp supper was ready. While Jim and I were eating, about a dozen ladies came to us; among them was an old lady who said, "Can't you men coax the wolves to howl again to night?"

Jim answered, "Yes, but I will bet my old boots that before another week has passed you will want us to stop their howling so you can sleep," to which she answered, "Well, where do they live? We don't see or hear them in the day time."

Jim told her that the Coyotes stayed in hollow logs or caves or in thick brush in the day time anywhere out of sight. Just at that moment a Coyote yelped; he was up the river a short distance and for the next two hours there was a continual howl. I asked the old lady if she thought the wolves needed any coaxing to make them yelp. She said, no, she guessed, Mr. Bridger was right when he said they were noisy. Early in the morning I did not wait for breakfast but mounted my horse and went down to the river. I crossed it at the ford to ascertain whether there was quick sand in the ford enough to interfere with the crossing of the emigrant train.

I will here explain to the reader that it was very necessary to examine the fords of the Platte river, as it was a treacherous stream in the way of quick sand, but this time I found nothing in the way to interfere with our crossing. When I got back to camp they were just sitting down to breakfast. I told Jim that there would be no trouble in crossing the river, to which he replied, "All right, when we get ready to cross I want you to lead the train. We will cross twenty-five wagons at a time, and I will have all the mounted men ride on each side of the wagons to keep the teams in their places."

We were successful in landing all the wagons in safety and were all on the other side by eleven o'clock. I asked Jim where we should camp that night; he asked me how far it was to Quaking Asp Grove. I told him I thought it was about nine miles to that place.

He said, "Well, I think we can make it there in good season and that will be a good place to camp."

I now instructed my scouts what their duty was, and we pulled out, I taking the lead from one to two and a half miles ahead of the train.

Late that afternoon I discovered considerable Indian signs where they had crossed the main trail. I followed their trail quite a way and decided that they had passed that way about two days before.

After we went into camp I rode to the top of a high hill about a mile away to look for Indian camp fires. I was soon convinced that there were no Indians near us and started back to camp. I had got within a quarter of a mile of the camp when I saw two men sitting on a log just ahead of me; I rode up to them, and when I spoke to them I recognized them as two of the eleven that left us with the four wagons at Fort Kerney. I said to them, "Men, what are you doing here, and where are your teams and the rest of the men who went with you?"

They answered, "The rest of the men are all dead, killed by the Indians night before last; we made our escape by running off in the dark, and we haven't had a bite to eat since supper that night, and in fact we did not have much supper then, for the savages came on us when we were eating."

I said, "What became of your wagons and teams?"

They said they did not know what became of them, for they made their escape as soon as the Indians came upon them; that they ran a little ways and stopped and listened to the cries of the others as long as there were any left, and then wandering around through the woods ever since, not knowing where they were or what would become of them, and they continued, "We sat down here because we were so weak we could go no further."

One then asked where the rest of the train was. I replied, pointing, "It is about a quarter of a mile over there."

At that, one said to the other, "Let's go and get something to eat." I showed them the way to the train, and as they were intimately acquainted with some of the emigrants they soon had their hunger appeased.

While they were eating, they told us their experience. Three or four miles before they camped for the night they saw the Indians. There were at least seventy-five of them. They were on the north side of the road. They would come close to the road and then disappear again.

"We tried to get near to talk to them, but they ran away as if they were afraid of us. When we camped that evening there were about twenty-five of them on a hill not more than a hundred and fifty yards from us. Two of the men started to go up to them, but they ran away, and that was the last we saw of them, and so we made up our minds that they had gone, and we thought no more about them. It was good and dark when we sat down to supper, and how so many of them came upon us without making any noise is a mystery to us. The first thing we knew, the whole number we had first seen was upon us, and of all the noise, the yells and whoops we ever heard, they made the worst. If they had come up out of the ground, we would not have been more surprised, and the arrows were flying in every direction. As it happened we two were sitting a little away from the rest of the men eating our supper, and at their first yell we jumped up and made for the nearest brush; our guns were all in the wagons, and the Indians were between us and the wagons, so we had no way to defend ourselves. We went a little ways into the brush, and then we looked back and saw the Indians using their tomahawks on the men we had left, and in a few minutes all the noise was over and we supposed all the nine were killed."

Jim Bridger then said, "You two men are the luckiest chaps I ever heard of. You may be sure that the Indians did not see you that night, or they would have trailed you up and had your scalps before the next morning."

One of the committee men came to where Jim and I were sitting and said, "What shall we do about finding and burying those bodies?"

Jim answered, "That, sir, is your business, not ours. It is our business to see that the people under our care do not meet with the same fate these men have met, and I do not intend to put the lives of all this train in danger by stopping to hunt for the remains of men who refused with scorn to stay with us and share the protection we offered them; they brought the trouble and their own deaths on them selves, but I will say this, if any of you men want to hunt for these bodies and take the time to bury them, I have no objection, but you must understand that when you get outside of the scout force we shall not be responsible for any thing that may happen to you."

At that moment more than twenty men spoke together, saying, "Mr. Bridger is right, Mr. Bridger is right; he proposes to do just what he agreed to do, and no one can blame him." One of the men then asked if we would be willing to stop long enough to bury the bodies if we found them; Jim said, "We have no objections to stopping if it is a suitable place to make our camp, but if it isn't we can't afford to lose the time, as we must make certain places to camp every day, for we are now in a hostile Indian country, and in order to protect our selves we must camp in certain places, for without we take this care this train will not be in existence a week, and Will and I feel the responsibility that rests upon us, for the lives of your women and children as well as your own are in our hands."

At this moment a middle-aged lady who stood near us with the tears running down her cheeks said, "Why don't you let Mr. Bridger and Mr. Drannan have their way? You see what these other men came to by not obeying their orders, and do you want to bring us all to the predicament they are in?" At this Jim said, "I'll be dog goned if they will."

This settled the controversy for the time being.

That evening before we turned in for the night Jim and I talked the matter over together; and we decided that after I put out the scouts in the morning I would take ten men all mounted on horses and keeping about five miles ahead of the train, and if we found the bodies I should set the men I had with me to work digging graves, and I should turn back and report to Jim what we had found, and the condition we found them in.

As soon as possible the next morning the men I had selected and myself pulled out. We had made eight or nine miles when we found the bodies we were looking for. They were all laying near together, around what had been their camp fire, and all of them were scalped.

There was nothing about them to indicate that they had made any effort to protect themselves. Every one of the heads was split, showing they had been tomahawked, proving what the two survivors had told us about the suddenness of the attack to be correct. We found their wagons nearly empty. The covers had been torn off, the most of the bedding was gone and some of their clothing. The eatables such as bacon and flour and dried fruit was laying on the ground. I told the men I thought the best way to bury them would be to dig one large grave and put them all into it, and they seemed to be of the same mind. After helping to select a spot for the grave, I left them and rode back to meet the train and report our find. I told Jim all about the condition of things at the dead men's camp, at which he said, "I guess we had better stop there a couple of hours, which will give us time to bury the dead, and we can reach our camping ground before night."

On reaching the place Jim corralled the train, and he then went to all the families and told them that two hours was as long as we should stop there. I said, "I will take a stroll around through the brush and see if I can find some of their cattle."

I hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile when I found twelve head of their oxen. When I drove them back to the wagons, the two men said they were just half of the original number. They yoked them up and hooked them to two of the wagons and took what they wanted of the provisions and clothes and left the rest laying on the ground. As we were about to leave Jim said, "It is too dog goned bad to leave all that grub for the Coyotes to eat. That meat and flour will be worth fifty cents a pound when you get to California."

Then several of the men and women commenced to gather up the stuff, the men carrying the flour and the women the bacon, and they soon had it all stowed away in their wagons.

Having laid the dead away in the best manner we could under the circumstances, and every thing else being in readiness, we pulled out for Barrel Springs. I told Jim not to look for me until about dark, as I intended to climb the tall hills that we could see in the distance to look for Indian camp fires. This being understood, my twelve scouts and myself left the train in Jim's care. After giving the eleven scouts their orders, I took the other one with me and took the lead. Nothing of interest occurred until we had nearly reached the place where we were to camp that night. Happening to look up on a high ridge to the north of us, I saw a large band of Buffalo coming towards us, and I thought by the lay of the ground that they must pass through the spot where we were going to camp. I said to my companion, "Let's hitch our horses and get those trees," pointing to a little grove of timber, which stood near the springs. "Those Buffalo are going to come down there, and we want to get as many of them as possible. Now don't shoot until they are opposite us, and then aim to break their neck every time, and load and shoot as fast as you can after you commence."

We only had a few minutes to wait. When we reached the timber, the Buffalos were opposite us. They were within thirty feet of us. We both fired and two Buffaloes fell. Now it was a race to see who could load first. I was the quickest and got the next one. They were now on the stampede, and it was a sight to see the number that was passing us. I got three of them with my rifle and one with my pistol. My companion shot three with his rifle. The one I shot with my pistol I don't think was over ten feet from me when she fell. She was the nicest little two-year-old heifer I had ever killed, and her meat was almost as tender as chicken. We went to work dressing them and had them pretty well underway when the train arrived.

Barrel Springs was one of the prettiest places for a camping ground I ever saw. It was in a small, open prairie, surrounded by scattering timber, a stream of cool and pure sparkling water running through the center, and the grass was almost to the horses' knees.

As soon as Jim had corralled the train, he rode to where we were at work and said, "Boys, I'll be gol durned if this ain't one of the times, you done two good jobs at once."

I said, "How is that, Jim?"

He answered, "In the first place you provided meat for our supper, and in the next, you drove the Buffalos off so we have plenty of grass for the stock for their supper."

By this time nearly all the women were standing around us. This was the first Buffalo they had ever seen and they were a great curiosity to them. With the rest was a middle-aged lady, and with her she had two daughters nearly grown. The mother stood near me watching me work.

She said, "Mr. Drannan, may I have a piece of that yearling's hind quarter? I will tell you what I want to do with it; my girls and I have picked a lot of wild onions today, and I want to make a stew, and we want you and Mr. Bridger to come to our tent and eat supper."

I assured her she could have all the meat she wanted from my little heifer. One of the girls ran to their wagon to get an ax and her father to come and chop it off for them. By this time the men had about finished dressing the Buffalo, and every body helped themselves to what part they wanted. There was plenty for all, and some of the rough part left over. It did not seem long to me when one of the girls came to Jim and me and told us that her mother had sent for us to come and take supper with them, and I think that was one of the times we did justice to a meal, for a stew with onions was a rare dish for us woodsmen, and a woman to cook it was a still more rare occasion. As soon as we had finished eating, Jim stood up and in a loud voice said, "Ladies, how many of you can dance?"

I think there were as many as twenty-five answered, "I can dance."

Jim said, "All right, get ready, and after dark we will have lots of music."

One of the men asked, "Where are you going to get your music?"

Jim answered, "Why dog gone it, Will and Mr. Henderson have engaged a band to play for us to night."

And in a few moments the band struck up in a Coyote howl, and Jim laughed and said, "There, didn't I promise you a band? Isn't that music?" And from then until midnight the howling never ceased. It was something fearful to listen to. The smell of the Buffalo blood made them wild, and they howled worse then usual that night. A great number of the emigrants did not lay down until after midnight, and time after time asked me if I thought there was any danger of them attacking the camp. I told them there was no danger from them, and that if I knew there weren't any Indians within twenty miles of us I could stop their yelling in five minutes. They asked how that was possible. I told them that if I was sure there were no Indians in hearing, I would fire my gun off a time or two, and we would hear no more of the Coyotes at night. After midnight they quieted down and every one went to sleep, except the guards who watched the camp.

Jim and I were up very early the next morning and called all the others to have an early breakfast, telling them we had to make twenty miles that day to get to water and grass so we could camp that night. As soon as breakfast was over Jim said to the women, "Now ladies, you won't have any more music to dance to for the next three nights, for you will see no more Buffalo, hear no more Coyotes, or see any Indians until we cross Green River."

Several of the ladies said they would be glad if they never heard any more Coyotes howl. They did not like that kind of music to dance to, or to be kept awake all night listening to them either.

For the next three days everything passed along smoothly; when we reached Green River, it was rising rapidly, and we had a great deal of trouble crossing it. We had to hitch three teams to one wagon and six and eight men had to ride each side to keep the teams straight.

Green River is a mountain stream and flows very rapidly, and at this place was very narrow, and if the team should get ten feet below the Ford they would be lost so swift is the current. We worked hard two days getting everything across the river, but we got everything over in good shape at last.

That night, after supper was over, we told all the people of the train to be ready for starting on the road by sunrise in the morning, as we had a long drive before us and it was all gradually uphill at that. Several of the women asked when we were going to give them some more Buffalo meat. Jim burst out laughing and asked them if they wanted some more music to dance to. One girl said, "Have we got to have music every time we have Buffalo meat?"

Jim told her that for the next two weeks we would have music every night whether we had Buffalo meat or not, and very likely there would be times we would hear Indian yells during the day.

"By that time," he said, "we shall be in the Ute country, and they are the meanest tribe of Indians in the west, and we may look for trouble with them any moment, day or night." And addressing the men he said, "I want you to keep your guns loaded and ready for use at a moment's warning, and you must stay with the wagons, all but the scouts, who will be under Will's control, for if they attack us I want to give them as warm a reception as we possibly can, for if we whip them in the first battle, that will settle it with that bunch. They will not trouble us again."

The next night we camped at Soda Springs. There were three springs close together. Two of them were mineral, one strong with soda, and the other was very salt, and the third one was pure cold water. As soon as the wagons were corralled, several of the young girls took buckets and started for the springs to get water, and as luck had it they all went to the Soda spring. Not one of them had ever even heard of a soda spring until they tried this one. They had not had any water to drink since noon and were very thirsty, so drank very heartily without stopping to taste, but as soon as the water was down, there was a cry from as many as had drunk, and they all ran back to the wagons, screaming, "oh! oh! I am poisoned, oh! What shall I do?" And with their hands pressed to their breasts and the gas bursting from nose and mouth they did make a sad sight to those who did not understand the effects of soda springs, but to Jim and me it was very amusing, for we knew they were in no danger of poison.

Some of the sufferers cried as well as screamed. I could not speak for laughing, for I remembered my own first experience in drinking from a soda spring, but Jim told them they were not poisoned and told them what kind of water they had drunk. In a few moments all the crowd was at the soda spring, drinking its poison water as the girls still called it. The older women asked what they should do for water to cook with. I pointed to the salt spring and told them to go and get water from that if they had fresh meat to cook, and the water would salt it and for coffee I pointed to the spring of water farthest from us, and I told the girls they could drink all the water they wanted from that spring and not have to make such faces as they did after they drank the soda. One of the girls said she reckoned I would have made a face if I had felt as she did. Jim stood near us with a smile on his lips, which I knew meant mischief of some sort. He said. "Will, why don't you tell the girls how you enjoyed your first drink of soda water?" And seeing how I blushed, for my face was burning, he said, "I guess I had better tell them myself. I don't think you know how comical you looked." And in the most ridiculous way he could think of he described how I looked and acted on that to me never-to-be-forgotten occasion, "My first drink from a soda spring."

I have been told there is a large town at this place now, and that it is a great resort for the sick. They use this salt water, which I forgot to say was also hot as well as salt, for bathing, and is considered a great cure for many diseases.



CHAPTER IV

The next morning we pulled out of this place by the way of Landers. That afternoon about two o'clock I saw a small band of Indians coming directly towards us. They were about a mile away when I first saw them. I rode to the foot of a little hill which was close to me at the time I saw them. I dismounted from my horse and tied him to a sage brush, and then I crept to the top of the hill to see how many there were of them. I watched them until they were within a half a mile of my hiding place; I then counted thirty. I took them to be a hunting party by the way they were traveling. I signaled to my scouts to come to me at once. When they reached me, the Indians were less than a quarter of a mile from me. I told them what was coming down the ravine and told them to see that their guns and pistols were in order, "for, as soon as they round that little point yonder, we will charge on them, and we will kill every one we can. Now, don't shoot until we get within thirty yards of them. I will say, "fire," then I want every man to get an Indian. Now don't get rattled, but shoot to kill and shout as loud as you can. It don't make any difference what you say, only make as big a noise as you can, and as soon as you empty your guns, pull your pistols and go after them."

In a moment more the time had come to act, and when I said, "Charge," every man responded and did his duty. I had been in several Indian fights before, but I never saw Indians so taken by surprise as this band was. They did not draw their arrows or run, until we had fired into them, and after they turned to run, they had gone at least two hundred yards, before I saw them try to shoot an arrow.

We got fourteen of them in the first charge, and inside of three hundred yards we got six more. The remainder had reached the thick brush, so we let them go.

We now commenced catching the horses. We caught sixteen horses, and they all had good hair ropes around their necks. We tied them all together, and I left them in charge of two men, and the rest of us went to take the scalps of the Indians, and I was surprised to find when I said, "We will take the scalps of these Indians," that the men did not know what I meant. I showed them how to take the scalps off, and then they asked what I was going to do with them. I told them I was going to give them to Jim Bridger, and he would make guards out of them. "Jim wouldn't take the biggest hundred dollar bill you could offer him for these scalps, when he gets his hands on them."

One of the men said, "What will Bridger do with them horrid bloody things?"

I told him to just wait until night and then Jim would explain the use they would be to him. I tied the scalps to my saddle, left two men to care for the horses we had captured and biding the others to follow me I struck out for the place where we were to camp that night.

Jim told me that night how surprised the emigrants were when the train came to the men who had charge of the horses, and seeing the bodies of the dead Indians.

He said, "I had to let them stop the train a few minutes so they could all look at them." He said, "Some of the women wanted to know what had become of the hair off the top of their heads. I told them that I reckoned Will had taken them to give to me."

"And what are you going to do with those horrid Indians' hair?" one woman inquired.

"I am going to protect you and the rest of the train with them," he answered her.

The place we had picked out for camping ground that night was Sage Creek. There was no timber in sight as far as one could see; there was nothing to see but sage brush, but there was plenty of good water and fine grass.

We had been riding around looking for signs of Indians, so we did not reach the camping ground until Jim had the wagons corralled. I gave him the scalps I had taken and I told him I was going to get some meat for supper. He said, "What have you found? Bison or Antelope?"

I answered, "There are four or five hundred head of Antelope over beyond that hill yonder," and I pointed to the ridge a short distance from camp, "and I think I can take my scouts with me, and we can get an Antelope apiece and get back here before sundown." Jim answered, "All right, Will. I busy myself by hanging up my scalps while you are gone."

My men and I struck out up a ravine that led up close to where the Antelope were feeding; we were screened from their sight by the high banks. When we were close enough to them we dismounted and tied our horses to some bush. I then crawled up the bank alone to see just where the Antelope were, and to my surprise I found that there were two or three hundred of them feeding almost on the edge of the ravine in close gunshot to us. I slipped back down the bank and got to the boys as quick as possible and told them that the Antelope were on the top of the bank in close gun shot of us. We scattered along down the ravine for perhaps a hundred yards. I took my handkerchief out of my pocket and told them I would tie it around my ramrod. "And now don't any of you shoot until you see this red handkerchief waving, for the color being red it will attract their attention, and you will see more heads looking towards it then you ever saw in your life before. Now take good aim and be sure and hit your game, and as soon as you have emptied your guns pull your pistols and get some more while they are running away; we ought to get at least twenty Antelope out of this band."

When I waved the handkerchief, it seemed as if every rifle cracked at once, and it was a lively time for a few minutes for all of us. When we counted the Antelope we found we had shot twenty-two. We each took an Antelope in front of us on our horses and put out for camp. When we got there we unloaded, and some of the men that were at the camp commenced dressing them and cutting them up in pieces to cook, while the other boys went back to get those we had left where we killed them.

The women had the fires burning when the meat was ready for cooking, and when supper was ready all the Antelope were dressed and distributed around among the emigrants, and there was enough to last until the second day.

Jim had cut long sticks and had hung the scalps on the wagons so they could be seen quite a distance away. After he had them all fixed, he and I were standing together talking, he telling me the effect the sight of the dead Indians had on the emigrants and especially when they saw that their scalps had been taken off.

Two of the women came to us and invited us to eat supper with them at their tent. I will here explain to the reader that every family in the train had their own separate tent and cooked at their own fire. Jim and I accepted the invitation as we always did of the first that invited us to each meal.

As we finished eating it seemed as though all the women of the train gathered around us. There was one old lady in the crowd who seemed to be the one selected to do the talking. She said, "Mr. Bridger, I want you to tell me truly, don't you think it was awfully wicked to cut those scalps off those Indians' heads and then hang the dreadful, bloody things up on the wagons for us to look at?" and the tears were in her eyes as she finished her question.

Jim replied, "The best thing that has been done since we started on this trip is killing those Indians, and better still taking their scalps. I did not hang those scalps up on your wagons for you to look at. I hung them up for the Indians that are alive to look at, and I will tell you this, the Indians will never attack the train as long as they see those same bloody things hanging there, for they will think they will lose their own scalps, if they do. I would rather have these Indian scalps to protect you with than a hundred of the best soldiers in the United States Army. The Indian does not fear death, but he dreads the thought of having his scalps taken off his head, for it is the Indian's belief that he cannot enter the happy hunting grounds after death if his scalp has been taken off his head, and I want to impress on your minds that if this train should be attacked, every one of you that fell into the hands of the Indians, it would not matter whether they be men or women, would have their scalps torn off, and the same scalps would be hanging up on the Indians' wigwams for the squaws to dance around, and I want all you ladies to distinctly understand that Will Drannan or myself will do nothing while we have charge of this train but what will be of benefit to you all, and will bear the strictest investigation."

By this time everyone in the train had surrounded us, and turning to the men of the train, Jim continued, "If any of you are dissatisfied with our actions, now is the time to say so, and we will quit right here, and I will guarantee that the Indians will have all of your scalps before you are a hundred miles from here."

At this moment the committee came to us and said, "We want you two men to understand that there is no fault to be found with what you have done since you took charge of this train. We realize that every move you have made has been for our benefit. Mr. Bridger, you have no doubt found out long before this time that in a large company like this, everyone can not be satisfied. No matter how hard you may try to please them, there will still be some growlers and, pardon me for saying, there are cranks among the women as well as among men."

At this the old lady who had called Bridger wicked stepped up to Jim and said, "Mr. Bridger, I hope you will excuse me, for what I said. I will admit that I did not know what I was talking about, and if you will forgive me this time I will find no more fault with you."

Jim made no reply to the lady's remarks, but turning to the rest of the company he said, "Now get ready to have a good dance tonight, for we are going to have lots of music, for the Coyotes will smell the blood of the Indians on one side of us and that of the Antelope on the other side, so there will be music from a double band."

This was the last word of complaint that was expressed, while we were with this train. Everyone seemed satisfied, and all things went pleasantly from this time on. But talk about Coyotes' howling. This was one of the nights when they did howl. They came so close to us that we could hear them snap their teeth. Apparently there were hundreds of them around us.

After leaving this camp we had no more trouble for two days. The second night we camped on a little stream which was a tributary to Snake river. In the morning before we camped at this place, I told Jim when I left him with my scouts that he need not expect to see me until supper time. "You know, Jim, that we are in the heart of the Ute country, and I shall prospect every hill or ravine where there is liable to be found signs of Indians."

That evening it was perhaps a couple of miles before we got to the camp and a mile or so away from the other scouts, I ran on three wagons standing right in the middle of the road. After examining them a few minutes, I came to the conclusion that they had been standing where they were all winter. I saw that there had been ox-teams attached to them some time, but there was no sign of yokes there. The covers were still on the wagons, so I got off my horse and climbed into one of them. I found some flour and probably three hundred pounds of bacon in the three wagons. There was no bedding, but some clothing for both men and women, which was quite old and worn. On the front gate of one of the wagons I found considerable blood, and there was blood on the tongue of the same wagon. I now made an examination of the ground to see if there were any signs of a fight. After I had looked around some time, I was convinced that the owners of the wagons, whoever they had been, had been massacred by the Indians.

About forty steps from the wagons I found the remains of three people. One was a large body, that of a man, and one a medium size, which I took for the body of a woman, and the other was a small child. All there was left of them was their bones and some hair, the Wolves having stripped the flesh entirely from them.

I signaled to my scouts to come to me. As soon as they came, I told them to take all the grub out of the wagons and put it in a pile, and I would go back and meet the train and have three men appointed to distribute the stuff among the families. I told the boys that there were two trunks in the wagons and to break them open and see what was in them.

They did so and found them full of women's clothes, some of the garments of very nice material. I rode back and met the train and told Jim what I had found, and what I thought we had best do.

He selected three men to divide the provisions among the families of the train. I never inquired what they did with the clothes that was in the trunks.

We hunted all around in every direction, but we could find no more bodies, so if there had been others, the Indians must have taken them into captivity or, what was more likely, the Coyotes had dragged them away into the brush beyond our reach.

After the emigrants had stored the provisions in their wagons, we went on to the place we had selected for a camping ground for that night. I preceded the train a half a mile, and I found plenty of Indian signs, but they were all old. All their trails were pointing south that night. I asked Jim why all the Indians were going south this time of the year. He told me that they were going to hunt big game such as Buffalo, Bison and Elk, and they had to go further south to find such game, and he said, he should not be surprised if we did not see another Indian until we struck the Sink of Humboldt.

"But you may look out then, for we will find them then in plenty." As Jim finished this remark, one of my scouts came riding into camp at full speed. Jim and I went to meet him, for we suspected that something was up. As soon as he got in speaking distance he said to me, "There are a thousand Indians up on that ridge yonder, and they are coming this way; they are all on horse back, and there are women and children with them." Jim asked how far off they were. He said he didn't believe they were over a mile from camp at this minute; Jim mounted his horse and went to the herders and ordered them to corral the stock at once, at the same time telling every man to get his gun and form in line for the Indians were coming upon us, and the reader may be sure that everybody and every animal in that train was moving lively for a few minutes.

As soon as the stock was corralled, Jim rode up to me with one of the sticks that had a scalp on it in his hand. Handing it to me, he said, "Here, Will, take this and ride out a little ways from the corral, and when the Indians come where they can see you, wave it over your head so they will be sure to see the scalps, and I will get another bunch and I will stand close to you at the same time."

In a few minutes more the Indians hove in sight. They were in less than a quarter of a mile of us before they could see the whole train. As soon as they got a good sight of us the whole band stopped. The leader of the band was a war chief. We knew this by his dress. As soon as they stopped, Jim and I rode out towards them, waving the scalps like a flag.

The old chief looked at us a moment, then turned and seemed to be talking with some of the other braves a few minutes. Then the whole tribe pulled out in a westerly direction from us, and in a short time they were out of our sight, and their pace was lively the reader may be sure for the sight of the scalps had frightened them, as they feared they would meet the same fate if they did not get away from us quick.

I followed them quite a distance to make sure that they had gone. When I got back, everything had quieted down and the company was just sitting down to supper.

After Jim and I had got through eating, two of the committee came to us and as many as forty or fifty women, old and young, were with them. The men said to us, "These women have asked us to come to you and tender their most heartfelt thanks to you for what you have done for them today, for we are all sure we would have fallen victims to the savages if you had not been with us to protect us from them. It was the easiest-won battle that I ever heard of, and all because you knew how to fight the savages with their own weapon."

Jim answered, "Didn't I tell you that them scalps was worth an army of soldiers to us, and hasn't this proved my words to be true? What would a hundred soldiers have done with that whole tribe of Indians? There wouldn't have been a man of them left in an hour to tell the story, and every one of their scalps would be hanging to the Indians' belts, and I want you to all bear in mind that for the next three hundred miles we are liable to have just such another experience any hour of the day or night, and I want to ask you all to do as you done this time. Only keep cool and obey our orders, and I think we will get you through in safety, and I want to say this for the ladies, they showed great bravery today in keeping so quiet and having good sense staying under cover, and I did not hear a sound from any of them, and I will tell the girls that I will recommend them to the best-looking young frontiersmen I am acquainted with, as wifes, especially if they learn to dance to the Coyote's music."

This made a laugh all around and took the edge off of the danger that had clouded the people's faces, which was the motive Jim had in view in making the joking remarks, for no one knew better than Jim did how necessary it is to keep a company in good spirits, and to keep them from dwelling on the danger that might threaten them.

There was nothing to interrupt our slumbers that night, and we arose refreshed the next morning, ready for the day's journey and whatever was before us.

For the next three days nothing happened to interfere with our journey. The third day brought us to the foot of Look Out mountain, which is a spur of the Sierra Nevada mountains. In the eastern part of what is now the State of Nevada, but which was at that time one of the wildest countries in all the west, this particular portion I am speaking about was inhabited solely by the Ute Indians, which at that time was a very large tribe, and one of the most barbarous tribe that ever inhabited North America.

It is now fifty years ago since the events I am speaking of took place, and after all that Uncle Sam has done for them, they are not civilized yet.

At the time I speak of, this tribe inhabited all of the country from Snake river on the north to the Colorado river on the south and probably four hundred miles east and west, and at that time it was one of the greatest game countries west of the Rocky mountains. Such game as Buffalo, Elk, Antelope and Deer ranged all through that country in countless numbers. The Buffalo traveled much less in that particular portion of the country than they did in the country east of the Rocky mountains. The Buffalo that inhabited this part of the country scarcely ever crossed Snake river on the north or strayed as far as what is now known as the States of Oregon and Idaho, and it was no uncommon sight to see from fifty to two hundred and fifty Elk in one band. It would seem unreasonable at this period to tell how many Antelope one could see in one day.

But to return to the emigrant train and our camp at the foot of Look Out mountain, just before I got to our intended camping place, I crossed a trail where the Indians had just passed. I followed this trail for some distance, and judging from the signs I decided there was quite a large band, five hundred or more of them.

I went back to the main trail and signaled to my scouts to come to me. I selected one to go with me, gave the others their orders what to do, telling them to be sure and tell Bridger to not look for us until he saw us, for I was going to follow a trail until I found where the Indians went into camp.

Myself and my assistants now took the trail of the Indians, and we had followed it about five miles when we came to a high ridge, and as we looked down into the valley we saw the Indians in camp.

I was now satisfied that the Indians had not seen us and would not see us, so we turned and rode back to the place where we started from. When we reached the camping ground, Jim had just got the train corralled. I reported to him what I had seen and where the Indians were. After listening to my report, Jim said, "That is good. There is no danger from that band anyway."

We passed a quiet night at this camp. The next morning we were up very early and got an early start on the road, for we had a long drive before us that day, as it was all of twenty miles before we could reach water again.

Before we started that morning, Jim said to me, "Keep a sharp look out for Buffalo when you get near the next water, for if there are no Indians there, you will be sure to find Buffalo, and tomorrow being Sunday we will lay over a day and rest up, and if we can have some fresh meat I think everyone will enjoy it."

I answered that if there were any Buffalo in that part of the country, I would surely find them, "for, besides the treat the Buffalo will be to us, we can have another Coyote dance."

Jim clapped his hands and, laughing, replied, "Yes, Will, I'll be dog gorned if we won't, for the Coyotes will howl to beat any band if you can kill a few Buffalos."

I and my scouts pulled out at once, and to my surprise I did not see an Indian track all that day. When I was within three or four miles of the place where we were to camp, I commenced to see signs of Buffalo, so I signaled all the other scouts to come to me. As soon as they came, I showed them the tracks of the Buffalo in the sand, and then I told them that we would scatter out and go in abreast, keeping about a hundred yards apart, and keep a sharp look out, and if either of us see any Buffalo, signal to the rest of us to come, "for, we are going to lay over in this camp tomorrow, and we want some Buffalo meat to feast on."

We saw no Buffalo until we were almost to the camping ground. Then one of the men discovered a herd of perhaps twenty-five cows and calves in a little valley close to the place where we were going to camp.

As soon as he saw them, he signaled to the balance of us, and we got to him as quickly as possible. On examination of the valley, we found that there was only one way the Buffalos could get out, and that was the way they went in, which led down to where our camp would be that night. There were not more than eight or ten acres in the whole valley, and it was almost surrounded by high bluffs, and the only outlet which was not more than thirty paces wide led directly to the spot where we intended to camp over Sunday.

I told the men to dismount and tie their horses to some Sage brush that was near and go down to a little grove of trees that stood at the mouth of the valley.

"I will ride in among them and try to separate the herd so we can get as many of them as possible, and aim to kill the smallest of the band as they pass you. If I am successful in separating the band, and you can get two shots at them, we will get all the meat we want. I will try to hold all the calves until the cows are out of the valley, and when the last cow is out, all you men rush and close the opening, and then we will have lots of sport killing the calves."

As I rode into the valley, all the Buffalos ran to the opposite end, and I saw then that I should have a hard time to separate them. I rode quickly to where they were all in a bunch. As I drew near them, they all broke for the outlet in one body. I took my hat off and, waving it over my head and with a yell, I dashed into the midst of the band and succeeded in separating three cows and ten calves. At one time I thought they would run over me and my horse in spite of all I could do to prevent it. But finally I separated the three cows and ten calves from the rest and turned them back to the head of the valley. I now heard the report of the guns, so I knew the men were getting some meat. I then rode back to them as quickly as I could, and I found they had shot ten Buffalo cows, which all lay dead within a few feet of each other.

I said, "Now boys, we have enough cows, but we want some of the calves, and I will go up and start them down, and you let the cows all pass out but hold the calves inside and shoot all of them you can."

I went back to the other end of the valley, and as luck was on my side the cows separated themselves from the calves, and I had no trouble in running the cows out, which I did at full speed. I then said, "Now boys, you may kill all these calves but one, and that one I am going to have for a pet."

They all commenced to laugh and asked, "How are you going to catch it?"

I answered, "You just watch me," at the same time I was loosening the riata from my saddle. I then rode up near to where the calves were huddled together, and as they started to run I threw my rope at the largest one in the bunch and caught him around the neck, and there was some lively kicking and bucking for a few minutes, but he found it was no use to struggle. After that it took only a few minutes before the men had all the others killed.

The excitement being over, I looked down to the other end of the valley and saw that Bridger had the train corralled. I sent one of the men to tell Jim to send ten or twelve teams up the valley to drag the Buffalos down to camp. The men reported the number of cows and calves we had killed, and Jim sent enough teams to drag them all down to camp in one trip.

As soon as the teams had started with their loads, I asked the boys to help me with my calf. I told them to all get behind him and give him a scare, and he would go to camp in a lively gallop, for I wanted to show the women and children how a wild Buffalo looked when alive.

When we reached the corral, Jim Bridger was the first to meet us. The calf had got pretty wild by this time. No one could get near him. Jim said he had been seeing Buffalo for the last twenty-five years, and this one was the first he had ever seen led into camp, and in a few minutes all the women and children and the majority of the men were gathered in a bunch looking at my calf and laughing at his antics, for he did not submit to captivity very gracefully. After watching him a while, Jim said, "What are you going to do with him, Will?"

I answered that I did intend to eat him, but I thought now I had better turn him loose.

Jim said, "That won't do, Will, for he would kill someone before he cleared himself of the crowd. Tie him up to a tree, and we can kill him and take the meat with us when we leave here."

I tied him up as Jim thought best, although I pitied the little fellow and had rather have let him loose and seen him scamper away over the hills to join his friends in freedom.

The men set to work skinning and getting the meat ready to cook for supper. We now had fresh meat enough to last the entire outfit nearly a week.

After we had finished supper Jim told the women to get ready to dance, "for," he said, "we will have more music tonight than we have had for a long time."

One of the old ladies asked him, how he could tell when the wolves would howl more one night than another, and she said, "every time that you have said they would howl, they have made such a noise that none of us could sleep." Jim answered, "this will be the worst night for them to howl you have ever heard, and I will tell you why. You see, all those Buffalos have been dressed here at the camp, and the Coyotes will smell the blood for miles away from here, and they will follow the scent until they get to us, and as they cannot get to the meat they will vent their disappointment in howling. So you see why I say the ladies will have a plenty of music to dance to." And sure enough, as soon as it commenced growing dark the din commenced, and there was no sleep for anyone in that camp until nearly daylight the next morning. A number of times that night I went out perhaps fifty yards from the wagons and saw them running in every direction. I could have silenced them by firing once among them, but this I did not dare to do, for I did not know how many Indians might be in hearing of the report of my gun, and I thought it the better policy to hear the howling of the wolves than to have a fight with the Indians.