The next morning I called the scouts together and divided them into four squads, and we started out to examine the country in all four directions for Indians or the signs of them, our calculation being to investigate the country for five miles in every direction.

I told the men that if we saw no Indians or the signs of them that day that we would have a chance to sleep that night for I would fire a few shots among the Coyotes and stop their music, for that time at least. I and the men that went with me took a direct western course. After traveling perhaps five miles we struck a fresh Indian trail; the Indians had passed along there the evening before going in a southern direction. We followed it some distance, and I came to the conclusion that there were four or five hundred Indians in the band, and I knew by the direction they were traveling that they would have to go fifteen or twenty miles before they could find water, so I knew we were perfectly safe from this band. So after explaining this to my companions, I said, "Let us go back to camp."

On our arrival there we found that all the scouts had got into camp except the squad that went east, and in a few minutes, they came riding in as fast as their horses could bring them shouting at the top of their voices, "The Indians are after us."

Jim ordered the stock all corralled at once, and the men were not long in obeying orders. While these were attending to the stock, Jim was placing the other men in a position to protect the train, and as good luck, or rather Jim's forethought, had it, he had stuck the scalps we had used for the same purpose before on the wagons the night before, saying as he did it, "We don't ever know when they will be needed."

I with all my scout force rode out to meet the coming Indians. About two hundred yards from the corral there was a little hill which the Indians would have to climb before they came in view of our camp. I told the men that we would meet them at the top of the hill and give them as warm a welcome as we could, and then we would get back to the train as quickly as possible, and I then told them to shoot with their rifles first and then to pull their pistols and to let the savages have all there was in them, and then wheel their horses and make for camp.

We heard them coming before we reached the top of the hill. When we got on the crest, they were not more than thirty or forty yards from us. Every one of my men fired together, and I saw a number of Indians fall from their horses, and after we emptied our pistols among them, we wheeled our horses and sped back to camp.

The Indians just rounded the top of the hill where they could barely see the train, and then they stopped. Seeing the wagons with the scalps on them and all in seeming waiting for them seemed to take them by surprise. Bridger was making arrangements to make an attack on them when they all gave the war whoop and wheeled their horses and went back the way they had come.

Myself and scouts went to the top of the hill to see if the Indians were still in the neighborhood, but finding no signs of them we went back to camp. When I told Jim that there were no Indians in sight, he sprang up and laughed as loud as he could and clapped his hands together and said, "Another battle won by Will's Indian scalps. Didn't I tell you all that them scalps was worth more to us than all the soldiers we could get around us? They have won two good strong battles for us, and we will not have any more trouble here. Them scalps is worth a hundred dollars apiece to this train."

My men and I now went back over the hill to see how many Indians we had shot in our first meeting them, and strange to say we did not find a dead Indian, but there was plenty of blood all around where they were when we fired on them. I knew by the blood that we had killed some of them, but their comrades had taken their bodies on their horses and carried them with them, which the Indian always does if he can.

When we returned to camp the excitement was all over, and everyone was as cheerful as if nothing had happened to disturb them. Jim and I were talking together a short time after I got back when two young girls came to us and said their mother wanted us to eat dinner with them, for they were going to have pie for dinner. Jim said, "Is it calf pie? I do love calf pie above all things."

The girls laughed and said, "No, it is apple pie." Jim said, "All right, I like apple pie too."

When we sat down to dinner, which the reader will understand was not spread on a table, but was spread on the ground, I was surprised to see what was before us to eat. I have paid a dollar many times since then for a meal that would not compare in any way with this dinner that was cooked out in the wilds with no conveniences that women are supposed to require.

There was a stew made of the Buffalo calf, a roast of the same kind of meat, corn bread, fried wild onions, apple pie and as good a cup of coffee as I ever drank.

After we had finished eating, Jim said to the lady, "Are you going to run a boarding house when you get to California?"

She answered, "I don't know what I shall do when we get there. Why do you ask?"

Jim answered, "I wanted to know because if you are, every time I come to California, I am coming to board with you."

Her husband then said, "It don't make any difference whether we keep a boarding house or not. Any time you or Mr. Drannan come near our place we shall expect you to come to us. You both will be perfectly welcome to a seat at our table at any and all times. After what I have seen today, I am more fully convinced that everyone in this train owes their lives to you two men. What would have become of the whole of us this morning if you two men had not been here to guard us? I will tell you what would have happened. Our stock and all we possessed would have been in the hands of the Indians, and our scalps would be hanging at their girdles at this time, and I want to say now that the people that compose this train can never pay you for what you have done for us on this dangerous journey."

Jim answered, "When we undertook to pilot this train across to California, we knew what we would be likely to meet with and that the undertaking was no child's play. We both understood the nature of the Indians thoroughly, and if all you people stick together and obey our orders, we will take you through in safety."

The man answered, "Mr. Bridger, you need not have one uneasy thought about anyone wanting to leave your protection on this trip, for everyone in this company understands that their lives are in the hands of you two men."

By this time there was quite a crowd around us, and Jim said, "We both appreciate the good opinion you have expressed, but after all we have only done our duty by you as we always do, or at least we try to do to everyone who intrust themselves and their property in our care. And now, to change the subject, Will says he is going to stop the wolves howling tonight so you people can get some sleep."

When it had grown dark I took a few of the scouts with me out on the edge of camp perhaps a hundred yards from the corral, and when the Coyotes began their howling, we began firing, and in a few minutes there was not a sound to be heard. We were satisfied that we would not be disturbed that night by the savages or the Coyotes, so we all turned in, and we had a good night's rest.

The next morning we were up and had an early breakfast, and I had not seen the emigrants in such a cheerful mood as they all were this morning, since we left Fort Kerney. Every one was cracking jokes.

As my scouts and I were about to leave the train to take our usual position as guards, one of the young girls came to me and said, "Mr. Drannan, I knew you were a good Indian fighter, but I did not know the Coyotes were so afraid of you. Did you hang up some of their scalps so that they could see them and know they would share the same fate as their comrades if they did not keep away?"

I told her that the report of our guns told the Coyotes what to expect if they came where the bullets would hit them. "But if my shooting interferes with your dancing, I will be careful and not do any thing to spoil the music."

She laughed and said, "Never you mind, Mr. Drannan, we are going to give you a dance before many nights."

I answered that I only knew how to dance one kind of a dance, and that was the scalp dance.

She said she had never seen a scalp dance, and said, "What is it like?"

Jim Bridger said, "When we have the next fight with the Indians, Will and I will show you how it is done, that is providing the Indians don't get our scalps, and if they do they will show you."

Jim said to me, "I don't think we will have any more trouble with the Indians until we get to the sink of the Humboldt; it is about a hundred miles from here. There is quite a strip of country through here that I am afraid we will have a great deal of trouble in, for at this time of the year all the game that is in the country seems to gather there, and as the Indians always follow the game I am afraid there will be plenty of them too. But we could not have a better scare crow than the scalps we have scared the last two bands away with, and I think if we are always successful in getting the train corralled before they come on us we will get through in safety."

I answered, "Jim, if it is possible for me to prevent it, you will never be surprised, for I and my men will keep a sharp look out for any signs of Indians at all times, and if there is any danger, you will know it as soon as we can get the news to you, for all the men under my control seem to be the right stuff, and they want to do what is right and for the best interest of all the train."

Jim answered, "I know I can trust you, Will, to do all in your power to get this train through in safety. I have every confidence in you. If I had not had, I should not have undertaken such a dangerous business as we are engaged in. But it stands us both in hand to be always on the lookout for danger, for we can never tell when the red friends may pounce on us when we are anywhere near them."

Monday morning we were up and ready to take to the road early, feeling in good spirits after our rest over Sunday. I asked Jim if we could make Sand Creek by night. He answered, "Yes, we have got to if we are to reach the sink of the Humboldt tomorrow."

We broke camp and pulled out. Everything worked smoothly until we had nearly reached Sand Creek, where we were to camp that night, when the two scouts that guarded the north side of the train discovered a large band of Indians coming in our direction. They reported their discovery to me at once. I put spurs to my horse and rode out where I could see the Indians myself. After I had gone about two miles or so I came in sight of them, and I saw that the men were right. The Indians were making directly to the spot where I thought the train was, and I realized that there was no time to lose in getting word to Jim.

As soon as I got near the road I signaled all the scouts to come to me, and in a few minutes, they were with me. I sent them all to the train to help Jim, except two which I kept with me. We three rode out to the spot where we could see the Indians. When we got in sight of them, they were within a mile of the train, and I knew that the time for action had come, and wheeling our horses we made for camp at a pace that would surprise the readers of today. I told Jim that the Indians were upon us, but there was no need to tell him this, as he had seen us coming and suspected the news we were bringing and had ordered the train corralled before we reached camp, and I do not think a train was ever got into shape to resist the savages quicker or with less excitement than that train was that day. And we were none too quick, for the Indians were in sight of us as soon as we were ready for them. At this spot our trail led down a little valley. Consequently, when the Indians hove in sight they were not more than a hundred yards from the corral.

I sang out, "What do you say, Jim? Let's form in line and give them a salute."

Jim shouted, "Every man form in a line and shoot, and be sure you hit your mark."

By this time there were as many as two hundred Indians in sight, and every gun seemed to go off at once. At that moment Jim cried, "Every man pull your pistol and shoot as loud as you can, and let us make a dash on them." And every man in the train did as Jim told them to, and it surely had a good effect on the savages, for they wheeled and fled as fast as their legs could carry them in the direction they had come. We found twenty-seven dead Indians all laying close together, and it did not take us long to take their scalps off. When we had finished this job, Jim made the remark that he had scalps enough now to protect the train all the way to California.

As it was yet about three miles to our camping ground, I told my scouts what to do, and then I told Jim that I meant to follow the Indians alone and see where they went to and not to expect me back until he saw me, for I intended to see those Indians go into camp before I left them, if it took me until midnight to do it, for if I did this I could tell whether they meant to give us any more trouble or not.

Jim told me where to look for the camp when I wanted to find it, and I left them, on a mission the danger of which I do not think one of my readers can understand, but which at that time I thought very little about.

I had followed the trail of the Indians but a short distance before I was convinced that there were a great many wounded in the band, for there was so much blood scattered all along the trail. I had followed the trail about five miles when I came to a high ridge, and on looking down on the other side I saw what looked to me like two or three hundred camp fires, and from the noise I heard I thought that many that I had thought to be wounded must be dead, for it was the same sound that I had often heard the squaws make over their dead. I decided by the appearance of the camp that I had discovered the main camping ground of the Indians. On deciding this in my mind, I hurried back as quickly as I could to tell Jim. When I reached camp, supper was just over. After I had looked after my horse, I went into the camp, and a lady met me and invited me to her tent, saying she had kept some supper warm for me and had been on the lookout for me to come back, and the reader may rest assured I was hungry enough to accept the invitation and to do ample justice to the good things the kind lady had saved for me.

While I was eating, Jim came to me and asked what I had discovered. I told him of the big Indian camp I had found at the foot of the ridge, which was probably five or six miles from where we were then in camp, and I told him of the noise the squaws had made too. He said, "Well, I will bet my old hat that we won't have any more trouble with them, for when they come back to get their dead warriors in the morning and find them without their scalps, they won't follow us any farther."

So feeling safe to do so, everyone except the guards turned in for the night. The night passed without anything happening to disturb us. Next morning I got up early and mounted my horse and went to the place where we'd had the fight to see if the dead Indians had been taken away. I found that they had all been taken away during the night. I got back to camp in time for breakfast. I told Jim that I had been to see about the Indians we had killed the day before, but I found no bodies there and supposed the squaws had taken them away in the night.

Jim jumped up and clapped his hands together and said, "Good, good, we will not have any more trouble with these Indians, and I don't believe we will have any more fights with the Indians this side of the Sierra Nevada mountains, for the news of our scalping so many of the Indians will fly from tribe to tribe faster than we can travel, and you may be sure they all will be on the lookout to avoid meeting us."

Everything moved quietly for the next three days, and we made good progress on our journey.

The night before we reached the sink of the Humboldt, while we were at supper about a dozen ladies came to Jim and me. One of them said with a smile, "Mr. Drannan, we have two favors to ask of you."

Jim looked up at them, and seeing that there was mischief in their eyes, he said, "Say, gals, can't I have one of them?"

The lady that had spoken to me said, "I am afraid neither of them would suit you, Mr. Bridger."

I then asked her what I could do for them. She answered that they would like to have some more fresh meat, but that they did not want any more such music as had accompanied all that they had had before, but if I could supply the meat without the music it would be a great favor as well as a treat. I said, "What kind of meat do you prefer, ladies?" She answered that they were not particular, any kind that was good.

Jim said, "Well, how will Coyote do you? That kind of meat will answer a double purpose. I-t will satisfy your hunger, and then you can howl the same as they do."

She answered, "Now Mr. Bridger, you know that Coyotes are not fit to eat. Are they not a species of a dog?"

Jim replied, "Yes, they are, and dog is the Indians' favorite meat, and that is the kind of meat you will have to eat when you go to live with them, so you had better learn to eat it now."

She said she was pretty sure that she didn't want to neighbor with the Indians, and she didn't want any dog meat either.

I told her that I would try and get some kind of fresh meat for them between then and night.

"It may be Elk or it may be Buffalo or it may be Antelope."

She said, "What kind of an animal is an Elk?"

I told her that an Elk was about as large as a cow and equally as good meat, and all the ladies said, "Well, well, wouldn't we like to have some."

I told them that I wouldn't promise for sure, but I thought I could get some fresh meat for supper tomorrow night.

The next morning my scouts and I were off early. I told them before we started that we must keep two objects in view that day. One object was to look out for Indians, and the other was to look for camp.

"We are in a game country, and there is plenty of Elk and Buffalo, and the first man that sees a band of either kind must signal to the others, and we will all get together and see if we can get enough to supply the camp for a day or two at least."

We had gone perhaps five or six miles when I heard a signal from the south. I got to it as quickly as possible, and as pretty a sight awaited me as I ever saw in the way of game. Down in a little valley just below the man that had signaled to the rest of us were about fifty Elk cows feeding, and there were also a few calves running and jumping around their mothers. As soon as all the men got there, I began to plan how we could get to them and kill some of them before they saw us. They were feeding towards the road, and they were not more than a quarter of a mile from it when I first saw them. A little ways from us there was a little ravine which was covered with brush, and it led down to the valley where the Elk were feeding. I told the men that we would hitch our horses and then crawl down the ravine, and I thought we could get a few of them before they could get away from us. All the men were as anxious to get the game as I was. I took the lead, and when we got down to the valley the Elk were only a short distance from us. I said, "Now wait until they feed opposite us, and then they will not be over fifty yards from us, and as I am to the right I will take the leader and each man in rotation as they come to him. In doing this way we will be sure to each get an Elk as not two of us will fire at the same animal, and if they are not too far from us after we have fired our rifles, let us pull our pistols and try to get some more."

When the Elk had got near enough to us, I gave the word to fire, and down came twelve Elk cows, and then we went for them with our pistols, and we got five calves, and so we knew we had plenty of meat to supply the camp for a day or two.

I sent one of the men back to meet the train and to tell Jim what we had done, and told him to send all the help he could so we could get the meat to the train as quickly as possible, and the rest of us commenced to skin the animals. In a short time there were forty or fifty men there, and it did not take long to finish the job, and we had the meat on the way to the wagons. About the time we had got the meat all dressed, several ladies came with sacks in their hands. I asked them what part of the animal they wanted. They said they wanted the livers and the hearts. This was a new idea to me. I asked them what they were going to do with them. One of the women said, "We want you and Mr. Bridger to take supper with us tonight, and we will show you what we have done with them then."

In a short time we had the meat to the train and each family had their share. Jim said he did not think he had lost over twenty-five minutes time in waiting for that meat.

The train proceeded on now without any more stops towards the place where we were to camp that night at the sink of the Humboldt. We reached the camping ground quite a little while before sundown, and we certainly had selected an ideal place to camp. A beautiful pearling stream of water, plenty of wood and any amount of grass met our eyes as we came to the place to stop. In a few minutes we had the stock out to grass and the women were busy cooking supper. Jim and I took a walk down towards the Sink, and as we were coming back we had got near the wagons when a couple of girls came to meet us and said, "We want you two to come and eat supper with us. Our two families got supper together tonight." Jim said, "Have you got something good to eat?"

One said, "You may just bet we have; we have got Elk roasted and fried Elk calf and fried liver. Isn't that something good?"

Jim said it sounded good and we would go and see for ourselves.

When we got to the tent Jim said, "These girls told us that you had invited us to eat supper with you; that you had some stewed dog, and as that is our favorite dish we thought we would accept the invitation."

One of the girls cried, "Oh Mr. Bridger, we didn't tell you any such thing."

Jim answered, "Oh, excuse me, girls. I thought you were going to have something good for supper, so of course all I could think of was dog."

We had a fine supper, and as fried liver was a new dish to Jim and me, we ate heartily of that, and we thought it was beyond the ordinary. It seems to me now in thinking of those days that people had better appetites then for hearty food than they have now; at least it is so in my case. The reason may be that we lived in the open air both day and night, and the air of that western climate was so pure and clear and free from all the different scents that impregnate it now. The amount of food that each person ate at that time would surprise the people of today.

After supper Jim told the girls that they would not get any music to dance to tonight, so they had just as well turn in and have a good night's sleep.



CHAPTER V

The next morning we had an early breakfast and were on our journey in good season. Nothing of interest occurred to us until we reached where the city of Reno now stands, which is in the western part of what is now the state of Nevada.

We were about to go into camp on the bank of the Truckee river when I looked off to the north and saw a band of Indians, and they were heading directly for the train.

They were probably a mile away from us when I saw them. I reported to Jim at once, and he was not long in corralling the train, and he made the largest display of scalps that I had ever seen then or ever have since. It looked as if every wagon had a scalp hanging on it.

Apparently the Indians did not notice the decorations on the wagons until they were within three or four hundred yards of them, and the sight seemed to take them by surprise.



All at once the whole band stopped, and of all the actions ever an Indian performed that band did it. Jim said, "Will, do you think you can reach them with your rifle?"

I answered that I thought not at that distance, but I said, "My men and I will get nearer to them and give them a scare anyway."

I called my scouts to follow me out to a little bunch of timber, and we all fired at them at once. Whether we hit any Indians or not I never knew, for they wheeled their horses and fled, and if any of them were killed or wounded the others did not leave them, and we saw no more of that band, but they left three horses laying on the ground, which showed us that our bullets had done a little execution.

We now settled into camp for the night. Jim told the emigrants as it was Saturday evening we would lay over here until Monday morning, and he told them that all who liked to have a good time fishing could enjoy themselves to their hearts' content, for this stream was full of Mountain Trout, and he added, "They are beauties."

Both men and women asked what kind of bait to use to catch them. We told them that grass hoppers or crickets was good bait for Mountain Trout, and both of these insects were numerous around the camp.

It was very amusing to me to see the girls run to their mothers to ask if they could go fishing the next day. They were as excited as if they were asking to go to some great entertainment.

It being Sunday morning and as there was no danger from the Indians, I did not get up very early. Jim and I occupied the same tent together, which was the blue sky above us and the ground beneath us, a bed that I have no doubt the reader will think a not very desirable one, but rolled in our blankets, a bed on the soft moss with the trees waving over us was as good a bed as Jim and I cared to have, and our sleep was as sound and restful as if we were laying on a bed of down.

When Jim arose in the morning, he gave me a shake and said, "Wake up, Will. We are going to have fish, for everyone in the camp is hunting grass hoppers," and it was really an amusing sight to see, for everyone, as Jim had said, was running, trying to catch grass hoppers. Both men and women were racing about like children.

Jim and I had started to go to the river to take a wash when a little girl came running to us saying, "Papa wants you to come and eat breakfast with us, for we have got fish for breakfast."

Jim said, "All right, sissy, but I am afraid you haven't got enough fish to go around."

She said, "Oh yes we have, for papa caught fifteen this morning, and they are all great big ones."

So we did not go to the river but went with the little girl to her father's tent and washed there, and sure enough, there was enough fish for all the family and Jim and me and some left over.

The man laughed and said to Jim, "Mr. Bridger, you made the right remark when you said that the river was full of fish. I have been fishing all my life, and I never saw so many fish at one time as I saw this morning. I went down to the river about daylight, and I caught fifteen fish, and I don't think I was over fifteen minutes in catching them, and I believe they will average two pounds to a fish, and they are as luscious as I ever tasted in the way of fish."

I asked him if this was his first experience in eating Mountain Trout. He said it was, but he hoped it would not be his last, and said, "Can you tell me why they have such an extra flavor?" I said, "Certainly, I can. There is no stream in the world that has purer water than the Truckee river, and do you see that snowcapped mountain yonder?" and I pointed to a mountain at the south west of us which was always covered with snow at the top. "This stream is surrounded with mountains like that, and the water is cold the year around, no matter how hot the weather may be, and that is the secret of the fine flavor of the fish caught in it."

And here I must say that, although I had eaten Mountain Trout many times before that morning, I never enjoyed a meal more than I did this one. As I finished eating, six young girls came to the tent and asked me if I was going fishing. I said I had thought of going. They asked if they could go with me, I said, "Certainly, you can if you wish to, but I shall have to go out and hunt some bait before I can go."

One of them said, "We have enough grass hoppers to last us all day, and we will share them with you for bait."

I answered, "Well, we will go up the river a little ways to those rocks yonder," and I pointed up the stream.

When we got opposite the rocks which were in the middle of the stream, I helped each of the girls to a place by herself and then took a place on a rock myself, but I could not do anything for laughing at the girls. I told them they would scare all the fish out of the river. In a moment one of the girls caught a fish on her hook, but he struggled so hard that she could not pull him out of the water, and she cried for me to come and help her to land him. I got to her as quickly as I could and took the fish out of the water, and it was the largest trout I had ever seen, and I did not wonder the girl could not land him, for he made a brave fight for liberty, and it was all I could do to capture him.

By this time it was a sight to look up and down the stream and see the people that were fishing. Men, women and children, old and young, seeming to be perfectly happy and to be having the time of their lives.

In about an hour they began to realize that more fish were being caught than they could take care of, so everyone gathered their catch and went back to camp. Some of the emigrants estimated that three thousand fish had been caught that day by the entire crowd. I think the most of the people had fish until they were tired of it. For the next two days we had fish for every meal served in every way that fish could be cooked.

Monday morning we pulled out from this camp bright and early for Honey Lake. We made the trip in two days, which was as we considered very good time, and we did not see an Indian on the way or a fresh sign of them.

When we reached Honey Lake and saw that there were no signs of Indians there Jim said to me that there would be no more trouble with the Indians, and if we could convince the emigrants of this fact we need not go further with them.

I told him I did not think it would be best to mention to the emigrants any change in the contract we had made with them when we started on the trip, that we had better go on with the train until we crossed the Sierra Nevada Mountains, as we had engaged to do.

Jim thought it over a few minutes, and then he said, "I guess you are right, Will, for they might think we wanted to shirk our duty in leaving them here, although I am sure there will be no more danger to guard them from."

Everything moved on without anything to interfere with our progress for the next four days, and by that time we had crossed the top of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

After we had eaten our supper the night after crossing on the other side of the mountains, Jim shouted that he wanted to talk to everybody for just a few minutes, and in a few minutes all the people of the train, men, women, and children, were around us thick.

Jim then said to them, "I wanted to speak to you together to tell you that all danger to this train is passed, there will be no more Indians to molest you, and you are perfectly safe to continue on your journey without fear of being troubled by them. Tomorrow night we will camp in the Sacramento Valley, and being sure that we can leave you in perfect safety, our contract with the people of this train will be closed, and we will leave you the next morning. There is one thing I am sorry for, though, and that is we can't furnish any more music for a farewell dance with the ladies before we leave them."

This joke created a laugh all around and brightened the faces of the older people, for we had shared in and protected them from too many dangers for the thought of separation from us not to sadden the faces of the older members of the train.

Mr. Tullock, one of the committee, got upon a chair and said, "I want to ask if there is a person here in this company can realize what these two men have done for us in the seven weeks they have been with us. I for one know for a certainty that if we had not met them, and they had not accompanied us on the dangerous journey we have almost finished, not one of this large company would have been alive today. I will acknowledge that I have no doubt that all the rest of you thought them to be barbarians when they took the scalps off those first Indians' heads, but the events that followed showed their knowledge of their business and also of our ignorance in Indian warfare for that what we thought barbarism was the means of saving some, if not all our lives. Now I will tell you what I propose doing. I am going to write a recommendation for each one of these men, and I want every one of you to sign it."

It sounded as if every one in the crowd said at once, "I'll sign it."

When Mr. Tullock stepped down, Jim took his place on the chair and said to the people, "I want you all to distinctly understand that Will Drannan and myself do not think we have done anything but our duty to the people of this train, and I want to thank all the men that have helped me to protect the train when the savages were upon us. You all showed that you were brave men and willing to obey orders, which, I will tell you now, is a rare thing among so many men, and Will tells me that he had the best men as scouts to help him that he has ever had, that everyone tried to do his duty. So it seems to me that we have all done our best to make the journey a success. Now let us get away from here early in the morning, for I want to reach our camping ground in good season tomorrow evening. We have quite a long drive before us tomorrow, but as good luck is on our side it is all downhill."

We got an early start in the morning, and we landed at our camping place about four o'clock in the evening, and I think there were as many as twenty invited us to take supper with them that night. The last one was from four young girls, who came to us together. One of them told Jim that she wanted him and Mr. Drannan to come to their tent right away, as supper was waiting. Jim answered that we didn't want any supper but told her that if she would invite us to breakfast next morning and would promise there would be enough to eat to fill us both for three or four days, we would be glad to come and eat.

She answered, "All right, Mr. Bridger, I will get up before day and get to cooking, so I shall be sure and have enough for you at least."

Jim and I now went to the tent of the people who had invited us first, as had been our custom all through the journey. These were elderly people who had one son and one daughter, both grown to man and womanhood. While we were at supper the older woman asked how much bread we could carry with us. Jim said we would like enough to last us three or four days, and he thought three loaves like the ones on the spread would be enough.

She said, "Why, Mr. Bridger, everybody is making bread, and cooking meat for you to take with you."

Jim said, "Why, my good woman, we can kill all the meat we want as we need it, and three loaves of bread is all we can carry on our horses with our other stuff."

The first thing in the morning the girls we had promised to eat breakfast with were after us to come to their tent, and we found a fine meal waiting for us.

Jim said, "Now ladies, you know that in going back, Will and I have to go over a very dangerous road, and we won't have time to cook in the next three or four days, so we calculate to eat enough to last us till we get to the Sink of the Humboldt, and that will take us three or four days, so in our accepting your invitation to take our last breakfast on this trip with you we may make you twice glad."

The elder woman smiled and told the girls they had better be frying some more meat. Jim looked around the spread and told the girls he guessed they had better wait till we had eaten what was before u, before they cooked more, and there certainly was enough food before us for as many more as sat around it, and although it was spread on a cloth laid on the ground, I have never partaken of a breakfast served on the finest table that tasted as good as that one did that morning.

We had almost finished eating when the elder lady said, "Girls, pass that cake around."

Jim said, "Is there cake too? I'm not used to eating cake, only on Sunday mornings, and this is Saturday."

I told the girls that Jim hadn't seen any cake since we left Fort Kerney, and that if she wanted any left for themselves they had better not pass the plate. She answered, "There is aplenty, and I have a great big cake for you to take to eat on the road."

Jim said, "That won't do at all, for Will will want to stay in camp all the time and eat cake until it is all gone."

As soon as breakfast was over, we caught our horses and began packing. We each had two saddle horses, and we had one pack horse between us. When we were leading up our horses, Jim said, "This is the worst job of all, for all these women have a lot of grub cooked for us to take along, and plagued take it, we have no room on the pack horses to put it. What shall we do?"

I said, "We will take what we can pack, Jim, and we can thank the ladies for their kindness, and tell them we are sorry we can't take all they would give us, and then we can mount and be off."

Jim said, "That sounds easy."

When we were packing, sure enough, every one of the elder women and some of the girls brought something for us to take with us to eat. Jim told them that we were a thousand times obliged to them all, but we could not take anything but a few loaves of bread, and then, as was usual, in his joking way he said with a glance at me, "I know, Will feels bad to leave that cake, and he will dream of seeing cakes for a week, but I can't indulge him this time."

When Jim had done speaking, one of the girls, that we had taken breakfast with handed him a small sack, and told him not to open it until we camped that night. At this moment Mr. Tullock, came to us and said, "Here, my friends, is a recommendation, and I think every grown person in the train has signed their name to both of them, and all the company have asked me to say a few words for them. If either or both of you ever come to California, we want you to find some of us and make your home with us as long as you wish, for you will always find a warm welcome with any of this company."

I had been acquainted with Jim Bridger several years and this was the first time I had ever seen him overcome with feeling. His voice shook so he could hardly thank the people for their kind words and when it came to shaking hands and biding them good bye, he almost lost his speech.

But it was over at last and we mounted our horses and left them. For the first ten miles I don't think Jim spoke ten words. Finally he said, "Well they were a good crowd of people, weren't they Will? If I ever go to California and can find any of them, I mean to stay all night with them, for it would be like visiting brother or sister."

We now began to calculate where we should camp that night. I said, "Let's make a dry camp tonight, we can fill our canteen, and water our horses at a stream that crosses the trail, and then we can ride on till dark. In doing this way we will avoid the Indians and will not have to guard against them in the night, for the Indians invariably camp near the water."

We made a long ride that day and picked a nice place to camp that night. As soon as we had unsaddled and unpacked our horses, I said, "Jim, I will stake the horses if you will make a fire." When I came back from attending to the horses, Jim said, "Look here, Will, see what them girls gave me, but I guess they meant it for you."

And he showed me the sack which the girls had given him as we were leaving them that morning. I looked into it and saw two large cakes and a good-sized piece of roasted Elk calf. The reader may imagine how good this nice food looked to two hungry men, and we surely did justice to it. When we were eating, Jim made the remark that it would be many a long day before we met with such a company again as those we had left that morning. He said, "In nearly all large companies there are cranks, either men or women, and sometimes both, but all that outfit were perfect ladies and gentlemen, and they all seemed to want to do what was right, and the men were all brave and the women were sensible."

The next morning we pulled out early, and we made good progress for five days, making dry camps every night. Nothing occurred to disturb us until we reached the Sink of the Humboldt. Here were Indian signs in every direction. We knew we would be in the heart of the Ute country for the next hundred miles, so we decided to do our traveling in the night and lay over and rest in the daytime.

We picked our camping places off the trail, where we thought the Indians would not be likely to discover us. The second night after we left the Sink of the Humboldt, we crossed a little stream called Sand Creek, and just off to the right of the trail we saw what we thought must have been five hundred Indians in camp. Most of them were laying around asleep, but a few were sitting at the fire smoking, and we succeeded in riding past them without their noticing us. After we had got entirely away from their camp fires, Jim said, "Will, we are the luckiest chaps that ever crossed the plains, for if them Indians had seen us, they would have filled our hides full of arrows just to get our horses, and I think we had better keep on traveling in the night until we strike Black's Fork, then we will be pretty near out of the Utes country."

When we got to Lone Tree on Black's Fork we lay over one day to let our horses rest and to get rested ourselves.

It was a little before sunrise that morning when we reached Lone Tree. I said to Jim, "Are you hungry?" He replied that he was too hungry to tell the truth.

I answered, "All right, you take care of the horses, and I will get an Antelope and we will have a fine breakfast."

Jim said, "Well, don't disappoint me, Will, for I am in the right shape to eat a half an Antelope."

I took my gun and went up on a little ridge and looked over, and not a quarter of a mile from me I saw a large band of Antelope, and I saw that they were feeding directly towards me. I hid myself in a little bunch of sage brush and waited until they fed up to within fifty yards of me. I then fired and brought down a little two-year-old buck. I took him up, threw him over my shoulder, and went back to Camp as fast as I could go. When I reached there, Jim had a fire burning, and in a few minutes we had the meat cooking. Jim made the remark that we had enough to do to keep us busy all day, for when we were not eating, we must be sleeping, for he was about as hungry as he ever was and so sleepy that he did not dare to sit down for fear he would fall asleep without his breakfast.

After we had enjoyed a very hearty meal of meat and bread, for we ate the last piece of bread that the ladies had given us that morning, we smoked our pipes a few moments, and then we spread our blankets on the ground under the only tree in ten miles of us, and we were soon lost to everything in a sleep that lasted until near night. I did at least. When I awoke I found Jim cooking meat for supper. When he saw that I was awake, he said, "Come, Will, get up. We have had our sleep. Now we will have our supper."

While we were eating, I asked Jim if we could make Green River tomorrow. He said, "Yes, we must get out of here tomorrow morning by daylight. Our horses will be well rested as we ourselves will be. We want to make Green River tomorrow night and Rock Springs the next night. I consider it is about eighty miles to Rock Springs from here, and we ought to make it in two days."

The next morning we were up bright and early and were on our journey as soon as we could see the trail. Nothing happened to disturb us, and we reached Green River just before sunset. We crossed the river and went into camp just above the Ford. We had just got our horses staked out when we heard whips snapping and people's voices shouting.

Jim listened a moment and said, "What in thunder does that mean?"

I answered, "I think it is an emigrant train coming." Jim said, "By jove if that is so, we will have to move from here and stake our horses somewhere else, for no doubt they will want to camp right here, and if there is much of a train, they will take all the room in this little valley."

In a few minutes they hove in sight. Jim said, "Now, let's get to one side and see if they have any system about their camping, and then we will know whether it is worth while for us to apply for a job or not."

They did not seem to know that they were near a river by the way they acted. Some of them would leave their wagons and run down to the stream and run back again and talk with the others. Finally they discovered Jim and me, and about twenty of the men came to where we were sitting. We had started a fire and were waiting for it to get hot enough to cook our meat for our supper, and it was certainly very amusing to watch their faces. They looked at us as if they thought us wild men. We learned afterwards that they had never seen anyone dressed in Buck Skin before.

After staring at us a while, one of them, an old man, said, "Where in creation are you two men from?"

Jim answered, "We have just come from Sacramento Valley, California."

And did you come all the way alone?

Jim answered, "Yes sir, we did."

"Did you see any Indians?" he inquired.

Jim said, "Yes, about a thousand, I think."

"Did they try to kill you?"

"Oh, no," Jim said. "They were asleep when we saw them."

"Why, they told us back at Fort Kerney that the Indians never slept day or night," the old man said.

Jim answered that they slept a little at night sometimes, and that was the time we took to travel. We had traveled nearly all the way from California to this place after night, and in some places where we traveled over, the Indians were as thick as jack rabbits.

One of the men then inquired when we went to California.

Jim answered, "We left Fort Kerney about eight weeks ago and piloted the biggest train of emigrants across the plains that has ever gone to California, and we did not lose a person or a head of stock, but we got a good many Indian scalps on the way."

One of the men then said, "Ain't you Jim Bridger and Will Drannan that the commander at the Fort told us about?"

Jim replied, "That is who we are."

One of them then asked if we would pilot another train to California.

Jim answered, "I don't know. The Indians are getting so dog goned thick that there is no fun in the job, but you folks go and get your supper, and let us eat ours. We are dog goned hungry, for we haven't had a bite since day-break this morning. You can come back here after supper, and we will talk to you."

By this time there must have been a hundred men standing around us, but when Jim told them that we wanted to eat our supper, they all scattered. After they had left us, Jim said, "You get supper, Will, and I will go and see whether there is any system about this outfit or not, and if supper is ready before I get back, don't wait for me, for I may not get back in half an hour or more."

I had got my meat on the fire and was just making the coffee when a number of women, I should think about a dozen of them, came near me and stopped and gazed at me. I bid them good evening and asked them to have supper with me. One of them answered, "No, I came to ask you to come and eat supper with us. My father sent me to invite you."

I thanked her and told her that as my own supper was nearly ready, I would eat at my own camp. I had taken my Buck-skin coat off and laid it on our pack. One of the women asked me if she could look at it. I told her that she could if she wished to.

While they were looking at the coat and exclaiming over its beauty (it was heavily embroidered with beads and porcupine quills, and was an odd looking garment to one not accustomed to seeing the clothing of the frontiers men), a couple of girls came running to me, saying, "Father wants you to come and eat supper with us, Mr. Bridger is eating now." So I took the meat and coffee off the fire and put my coat on and went with them. When I got in speaking distance of Jim, I said, "I thought you told me to cook supper." Jim answered, "I know I did Will, but we didn't have any fried onions, and these folks have, so I thought we would eat here and save our supper."

The people all laughed at Jim being so saving, and then the old man asked what we would charge to pilot the train through to California. Jim asked, "How many wagons have you in this outfit?"

He answered that he was not sure, but he thought there were about a hundred and thirty-five.

"How many men are there in the train?" The old man said, "Oh, dog gone it, I can't tell."

Jim said, "Have you got no Captain?"

The old man answered, "Why no, we haven't any use for a Captain."

Jim then said, "Well, I don't suppose they have any use for a commander over at the Fort then. Suppose the Indians should make an attack on them over there, and there was no Commander there, what do you think the soldiers would do? I will tell you what would happen. The most of the soldiers would be scalped, and it is the same way with a train of emigrants if the Indians attack them and they have no leader or what we call a Captain; they will all be scalped and in a mighty short time too. Now you call the men together and come to our camp, and we will talk this matter over, and then we will see if we can make a bargain with the crowd."

In a few minutes it seemed as if all the men and women of the train were standing around our camp.

Jim said to them, "I want some man who is a good reader to read this letter to the company."

And he held up one of the letters of recommendation given us by the people of the train we had left a few days before. A middle-aged man came forward and said, "I reckon I can read it; I am a school teacher by profession, and I am used to reading all kinds of handwriting."

He took the letter, stepped up on a log and in a clear, loud voice read it to the company. After he had finished reading it, the man handed the letter back to Jim with the remark that it was a fine recommendation and gave a character few men could claim.

Jim now told the emigrants that before we took charge of a train he always had the men of the train select a committee from their number, and this committee had the entire charge of the business in making arrangements with us and all other matters that might take place on the trip. "Now if you want us to pilot this train across to California, get together and select your committee, and they can come to us and we will talk business."

It was now nearly eleven o'clock at night, so Jim told the people that we had traveled a long distance that day and were very tired, and he thought we had better not make any bargain that night. We would go to our rest, and in the morning they could tell us what they had decided on. Next morning Jim and I were up very early, and so were the most of the emigrants. We were building a fire to get our breakfast when one of the emigrants came to us and invited us to take breakfast with him. He said there had been a committee selected, that the men talked the matter over after they left us the night before, and they chose five men to make arrangements with us. "But as we did not go to bed until nearly morning, I don't think they are all up yet," he said, smiling.

We went with him and found breakfast waiting for us. After we had finished, two of the men came to us and said they were two of the five who had been appointed to do business with us, and that the other three would meet us at our camp in a few minutes. So Jim and I went back to our camp, and in a very short time the five men were with us. One of them asked us how much we would charge to pilot them to California. Jim said, "How many wagons have you?"

He said, "We have ninety here now, and there will be twenty more here by noon."

Jim asked, "How many men are there in the company?" They said they did not know for certain but thought there would be about a hundred and ninety. Jim said that we would take them across to California for five dollars a day, which would be two dollars and a half for each of us. "Providing you will promise to obey our orders in all things pertaining to the protection of the train and also give us two days to drill the teamsters and the scouts, but we will have to move on one day from here, as there is no ground here that is fit to drill on."

One of the committee said, "We will give you an answer in twenty minutes," and they went back to their camp, which was a hundred yards or more from ours. Jim and I caught our horses and were saddling them when the committee came back to us and told us we could consider ourselves engaged.

I now spoke for the first time, Jim having done all the talking before. I said, "I want you men to select ten good men who own their horses. I prefer young men who are good horsemen, for I want them to assist me in doing scout work."

This seemed to surprise the men. One of them asked, what the young men would have to do. Jim now spoke up in his joking way and said, "They will find enough to do before we get to California. For example I will show you what Will and his scouts have done on our last trip across." At the same time he was untying the sack that held the Indian scalps we had taken on our last trip to California. When he emptied the sack it was amusing to us to see their faces. Their first expression was of surprise, and the next was of horror. Jim took up one of the scalps and shook it out and said, "Taking these is one of the things you young men may have to do," and he continued, "These scalps which seem to give you men the horrors to look at now, will be worth more than money to all the people of this train, for they will save the lives of all of you, and that is more than money could do in an attack by the Indians."

Some of the men wanted to know in what way the scalps would save them. Jim answered, "Let us get on the road to our next camping ground, and I will explain everything in regard to the protection of the train when we get to drilling."

In a short time every thing was on the move, and we reached our place to camp about four o'clock in the afternoon. Jim commenced to put the numbers on the wagons as soon as we landed in camp in order to get to drilling as early as possible in the morning. We had been in camp but a short time when one of the committee men came to me and said, "We have selected your men, Mr. Drannan. Come out, and I will introduce them to you, and you can see if they would suit you, and if they do, you can tell them what you want them to do."

We went outside the corral, and we found the ten men there with their horses. I asked them if they all had rifles and pistols. They said they had. I next asked them if they had ever practiced shooting off their horses' backs, and they all said no, nor had ever heard of such a way of shooting. I then said, "Now boys, it is too late in the evening to commence practicing, but I want you all to meet me here after breakfast in the morning, and have your horses and guns and pistols with you, and you may make up your mind to do a hard day's work tomorrow."

That evening Jim and I had a talk by ourselves in regard to how much time we should take to drill the men. Jim said, "Will, do you think you can drill your men in one day so they will know enough to risk starting out day after tomorrow?"

I answered, "I think I can, Jim."

He thought a moment and then said, "I don't like to hurry you in training your men, Will, but you know it is getting late in the season, and we have a long road to travel after we get these emigrants through to California in order to get back home to Taos before the winter sets in, and I have no doubt Kit will be looking for us long before we get there."

I said, "Jim, this will be my last trip as a pilot for emigrants."

Jim laughed and answered, "I thought this kind of business just suited you, Will, for you are a favorite with the girls, especially when you bring in scalps."

I answered, "The girls are all right, Jim, but there is too much responsibility in such an undertaking, and besides, it is impossible to suit everybody."

Jim answered, "There is a good deal of truth in what you say, Will. It is not an easy job to please so many people all at once. We will hurry this trip through as quick as possible and get them off our hands."

The next morning I was up early and met the men who were to be trained to make scouts. We went to a little grove of timber about a quarter of a mile from camp. I selected a small tree, probably a foot through, dismounted and made a crossmark with my knife. I then asked the boys, if they thought they could hit that cross with their guns or pistols with their horses on the dead run. One of them said, "No, I don't know as I could hit it with my horse standing still."

I answered, "But that is just what I must teach you to do if you are ever to make a scout to guard against Indians or fight them. I will mount my horse and go back to that little bunch of brush," and I pointed to a bunch of brush that was perhaps a little more than a hundred yards from the tree, "and all of you men follow me."

When we reached the brush, I turned my horse's head towards the tree I had marked, and I then said, "Now boys, I am going to put my horse down to his best speed, and I want you all to follow me and keep as close to me as you can, and each man look out for his own horse when I commence to shoot. At the same time keep your eyes on me, for I want each one of you to take his turn in doing as I do, and I want you to repeat the thing until you can hit the mark as I shall do."

I now started my horse at full speed, and before I had got to the tree I had fired my second shot, and both balls struck near the cross, but I was surprised, and I will not deny also amused, to see the way the boys were trying to stop their horses; they were running in every direction and appeared to be nearly frightened to death, and apparently their riders had no control over them, but finally they checked them and rode back to where I stood.

I said, "Boys, you certainly have your horses trained to run from the Indians if you can't stop to fight them."

One of the boys said, "I never saw my horse act the fool as he has done today."

I said, "Now, which one of you are going to try it again first? Don't all speak at once."

It was some minutes before anyone answered. At last one of them said, "I will try it. Shall we all come down together as we did with you?"

I told him, "No, I want you to all to try it single-handed once and then we will try it in groups of three, but if you are afraid you cannot manage your horse, I will ride beside you."

He answered, "No, I have got to break him in to it, and I might as well do it at the start."

So the others got out of his way, and he rode to the brush, wheeled his horse, put the spurs to him and came at full speed. When within fifty feet of the tree he fired his rifle and missed the tree but pulled his pistol and made a good shot, and he did not have much trouble in stopping his horse this time.

When he rode back to us, I showed him the hole where the bullet struck it and told him he had done exceptionally well.

He said, "Can't I give it another trial?"

I said, "Not now. Best let everyone have a try first."

I saw that they were a little encouraged by the first one's success, so I said, "Who comes next?"

One of them said, "I reckon it is me next," and he was on his horse in a twinkle and off for the brush. This man was in a little too much of a hurry; he shot too soon and missed the tree, which scared his horse, and he turned and ran in an opposite direction, and the rider had all he could do to attend to him so he did not fire his pistol at all. When he came back the boys had a laugh on him.

He said, "All right, see that the balance of you does better."

They all gave it a trial, and out of the ten men only three hit the mark with either rifle or pistol. Before we got through practicing, there must have been as many as a hundred men from the camp watching the performance. After each man had tried singly, I formed them in squads of three, and they were more successful that way than they were alone from the fact that their horses were getting used to the report of the guns.

The reader will understand that the drilling was done more for the benefit of the horses than it was for the men, for many times if the horses were unmanageable when in a fight with the Indians, the rider was in a great deal more danger of being killed than he would have if he could manage his horse.

As it was getting near noon I called it off until after dinner. When we were near the corral going back to camp, I pointed to a large log that was laying on the ground and told the boys to meet me there on foot, and I would put them through another kind of a drill, which was more essential for them to know than the one we had been practicing. One of them said, "What can it be?"

I answered, "It is to learn to signal to each other without speaking when you are in danger."

After dinner I had a talk with Jim in regard to how he was succeeding in drilling his teamsters. He said they were doing fine and would be ready to pull out in the morning. He said, "Will, these are not such people to handle as the last train we drilled."

I said, "What makes you think so, Jim?"

He answered, "There are a few in this outfit who do not believe there will be trouble with the Indians."

I answered, "Well, Jim, these are of the class that will not obey orders, and they will get the worst of it, and no one can blame us."

When I went to meet the boys, they were all standing or sitting on the fallen tree, waiting for me. I asked if they had ever heard a Coyote howl. They said not until they heard them on this trip. Then I explained to them, that the Indians were so used to hearing the Coyotes howl that they took no notice of that kind of a noise day or night, so we frontiers-men always used the bark or howl of a Coyote as a signal to call each other together in times of danger. I then gave a howl that the boys said no Coyote could beat, and in a couple of hours I had them all drilled so they could mimic the Coyotes very well.

We went back to camp, got our horses, and put in the afternoon in shooting at targets on horse back. Before we separated that evening, I told the men what position I wanted each one of them to take when the train was ready to move in the morning. I also told them they must always meet me at the head of the train before we started the train every morning to get their instructions for the day. Every one of the ten seemed to be willing and ready to obey everything I asked them to do.



CHAPTER VI.

All was in readiness for the start on the road the next morning, and we pulled out in good season. Every thing worked smoothly for the next three days, and then we were in the Ute country, and there were also a great many Buffalo scattered all through the country. I had seen some signs of Indians, but up to this time I had seen only one small band of them, and they were going in the opposite direction from the one we were going.

The evening of the third day, after we had eaten our supper, about twenty men came to where Jim and I were sitting on a log having a smoke and a private talk together.

One of them who seemed to be the leader said, "We want some Buffalo meat, and we propose to go out and get some tomorrow. Now what do you think about it?"



Jim said, "Which way do you think of going?" Pointing to the south, he said, "We think of going down into those low hills not more than eight or ten miles from the trail."

Jim answered, "I have no doubt you would find Buffalo and maybe kill some, but I have grave doubt of your ever getting back alive."

The man said, "Do you think we would get lost?"

Jim answered, "Yes, I think you would, if the Indians shoot you full of arrows and take your scalp off."

He answered, "We have got to find some Indians before they have a chance to scalp us, and I don't believe there is an Indian out there, and we are going hunting in the morning."

Jim answered, "All right, do just as you darned please, but I will tell you this just here and now. When you go a half a mile from the train without our consent, you will be out from under our protection, and we shall not hold ourselves responsible for your lives."

They turned away from us, saying, "We will take the chances; we want some Buffalo meat, and we are going to get it."

The next morning when the train pulled out twenty-three men left us, mounted on their horses with their guns all in trim for a Buffalo hunt, and four out of the twenty three was all we ever saw again either dead or alive.

We pulled out, and everything moved on nicely all day. I saw a great deal of Indian sign at various places during the day. About the middle of the afternoon one of the scouts reported that he saw a band of Indians off to the south. As soon as he reported this to me, I went with him to the top of a high ridge where we could see all over the country, and sure enough, there was a small band of Indians some two or three miles south of our trail.

After watching them a few minutes, I saw that they were going from us, so I knew that we were in no danger from that band.

We had to make an early camp that evening on account of water. It was one of my duties to ride ahead of the train and look the country over for signs of Indians to select a safe camping ground for each night, although Jim and I always talked over the best place to camp the coming night before we struck out in the morning.

That night I did not get in until Jim had the wagons all corralled. Jim came to me as soon as I rode in and said, "Will, have you seen anything of the men that went hunting this morning?"

I answered, "I neither saw or heard anything of them since I saw them ride away this morning, but I will call my scouts together and ask them if they have seen them during the day."

When I inquired of the men, I learned that they had not seen or heard of them and had not even heard the report of a gun all day.

We had just finished eating supper that night when one of the committee men came to us and said, "Don't you think you had better send out some men to look for the party that went a hunting?"

Jim said, "I told those men not to go away from the train, that there was danger of their losing their scalps if they left us, and I also told them that if they went a half a mile from the train I should not be responsible for them dead or alive. They answered that they did not believe there was an Indian in the country, and that they would take the chances anyway, and more than that, I would not know where to go to hunt for them any more than you would, for the country for miles around is like this, and I would be willing to bet anything that you will never see them all again."

Dusk was settling down, and as the night came on and the hunters did not come in, the excitement grew more intense. About twenty men came to me and inquired if I knew what kind of a country the hunters would be apt to go into. I answered that if they kept the course which they said they intended to go, it would lead them to the Buffalo country and also into the heart of the Indian country. One of them then asked me if I would be willing to try to find the absent men if I had enough men with me to help.

I answered, "Why, my friends, it would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack. You certainly do not understand the ways of the Indians. If the Indians have killed those men, they will take the bodies with them if they have to carry them a hundred miles. They will take them to their village and spend two or three days in having a scalp dance, so you will see how useless it would be to try to find them, and what is more to be thought of, if we should stay here two or three days we should in all probability be attacked by the Utes ourselves, and there is no knowing how many of the people would be killed, or how much other damage would be done."

It was getting towards bed time when four women came to me with their faces swollen with tears. One of them said, "Mr. Drannan, do you think our husbands have been killed by the Indians?"

I answered, "That is a question I can not answer, but I will say that I hope they have not; they may have lost their course and in that way have escaped the Indians."

While I was talking with the women, I heard the tramp of horses' feet coming towards camp on the trail.

I said, "Listen, perhaps they are coming now." and we went to meet the coming horsemen. There were four of them, and one of them was the husband of the woman I had been talking to. When they came up to us, he jumped off his horse and, clasping his wife in his arms he said, "Oh Mary, I never expected to see you again."

In a few minutes everybody in camp was standing around those four men, and they surely had a dreadful story to tell. They said, they did not know how far they had ridden that morning when they sighted a band of Buffalo in a little valley. They fired at them and killed four; they dismounted and turned their horses loose and went to skinning their Buffalo and had the hides nearly off of them when, without a sound to warn them of danger, the Indians pounced upon them, and of all the yelling and shouting that ever greeted any one's ears, that was the worst they had ever heard, and the arrows flew as thick as hail.

"One of them struck me here," and he pulled up his pants and showed us a ragged wound in the calf of his leg. After we had looked at the wounded leg, he continued his story. He said, "As soon as I heard the first yell, I ran for my horse and was fortunate in catching him. I think the reason of we four being so lucky in getting away was that we were a little distance from the others. We were off at one side, and we four were working on one Buffalo, and lucky for us our horses were feeding close to us. I do not believe that one of the other men caught his horse as their horses were quite a distance from them, and the Indians were between the men and their horses. The last I saw of them was their hopeless struggle against the flying Indians' arrows.

"We had mounted and had run a hundred or two hundred yards when we saw that four or five Indians were after us. They chased us two or three miles. It seemed that our horses could outrun theirs, and they gave up the chase, but in the confusion we had lost our course, and we did not know which direction to take, and we have been all the rest of the day trying to find the train, and we are just about worn but, and we are hungry enough to eat anything, at least I am."

As it happened, Jim Bridger was standing near me when the man was talking. The man turned and said to him, "Mr. Bridger, I hope all the people of this train will listen to your advice from this night until we reach the end of our journey. If we four men had done as you told us to do, we would not have suffered what we have today, and the nineteen, who I have no doubt have been scalped by the savages, would have been alive and well tonight. There is no one to blame but ourselves. You warned us, but we thought we knew more than you did, and the dreadful fate that overtook the most of the company shows how little we knew what we were doing in putting our judgment in opposition to men whose lives have been spent in learning the crafty nature of the Red-men."

Jim answered, "I always know what I am saying when I give advice, and I knew what would be liable to happen to you if you left the protection of the train. This is the third case of this kind which has happened since Will and I have been piloting emigrants across the plains to California, and I hope it will be the last."

There was but little sleep in camp that night. Out of the nineteen men that were killed, twelve of them were the heads of families, and the cries of the widows and orphaned children were very distressing for Jim and me to hear, although we were blameless. The next morning just after breakfast the committee of five men came to Jim and me and said they wanted to have a private talk with us.

Jim said, "All right," and we all went outside the corral. When we were alone by ourselves, one of them said, "I want to have your opinion with regard to hunting for the bodies of the men who are lost. Do you think it possible to find their bodies if they were killed?"

Jim said, "No, I do not. In the first place, we do not know where to look. In the second place, the Indians may have carried them fifty or seventy-five miles from where they killed them. In the third place, we do not know where the Indian village is or in what direction to look for it, and if we should find the Indian camp, they may be so strong that we would not dare to attack them, so you will see at once how useless it would be for us to attempt to do anything in regard to finding their bodies."

One of the committee said, "Well, so you propose to pull out and go on?"

Jim said, "Yes, that is what I propose doing. For the next four hundred miles we shall be in the worst Indian country in the West, and I want to get this train through it as quickly as I possibly can."

The man answered, "It seems cruel to do it, but I suppose we must give orders to get ready to move."

Jim replied, "Yes, we must be moving at once, for I cannot risk the lives of the living to hunt for those who are dead."

We were on the road in less than an hour, the committee having told the friends of the lost men what the consequences would be if they resisted the idea of moving, and also the utter uselessness of trying to find their friends dead or alive.

When the train was already to move, Jim rode down the whole length of the wagons and told each man that he wanted every one of them to have their guns and pistols loaded and ready for immediate action, for, he told them, "We cannot tell at what minute we may be attacked by the Indians, and if your guns were not ready for use, you would have a slim chance of saving your own lives or the lives of those dependent on you."

Everyone seemed to understand the situation better than they ever had before and promised to do as we had asked them to do. Everything moved on satisfactory until about two o'clock in the afternoon, when one of the scouts from the north side reported that a big band of Indians was coming directly towards us. I spurred my horse to a run, and when we reached a little ridge about a half a mile from the trail, I could see them myself, and I could see that they were all warriors, for there were no squaws or children with them, and I thought they would number a thousand strong.

I sent my companion back to tell Jim what was in prospect for a fight, and to be sure and have the Indian scalps hung up in the most conspicuous places. I watched the Indians until they had got within a half a mile of the trail, where they all stopped and huddled together for several minutes. I decided they were planning the attack, for when they started, they went directly for the train, which fact convinced me that the Indians had had a scout out as well as I had, and that he had been a little sharper than I was.

I now signaled for all the scouts to get to the train at once, and the reader can rest assured that not one of them including myself was long in getting there.

We found everything in readiness to receive the Indians. We rode inside the corral of wagons and dismounted. I told my men to follow me. We went to the head of the train, which was but a short distance. I placed eight men under two wagons, four to a wagon, and took the other two with me to the next wagon. I told them to lay flat on the ground, and when I cried "fire" for each one to shoot and to be sure that he got his Indian.

When the savages got in sight of the wagons, they were probably a hundred and fifty yards from them, and to my surprise they all stopped. I had forgotten the scalps that Jim had hung up, but of course the sight of them hanging on the top of the wagons stopped them, but they did not stop longer than a few minutes. Then they began circling around the wagons. I could see that there were two war chiefs with the outfit. I knew this by their dress, for a war Chief always wears what is called a bonnet. It is made of feathers taken from the wings and tails of eagles and reaches from their head almost to their heels.

When they started to circle around the wagons, I said to the boys who were with me under the wagon, "Now you watch that old red sinner who has the lead. I am going to shoot at him, but I do not know as I can hit him, he is so far away, but if I can get him we have won the battle."

They answered, "Fire away, and if you miss we will try our hand at him."

I drew a bead at the top of his head, and when the gun cracked I saw that I had hit him. One of the boys cried, "You have hit him," and at that moment he swayed and tumbled from his horse. The report of my gun seemed to be a signal for the whole train to fire, and for the next minute the noise of the guns was terrific. While they all did not hit an Indian, they did fairly well for men in an Indian battle for the first time. There were forty-two dead Indians left on the ground, and as the report of the last gun died away, the Indians turned their horses and fled in the opposite direction, and I ran to the old Chief to get his scalp.

I had just finished taking his scalp after taking his bonnet off when Jim Bridger and quite a crowd of the other men came running up to me. Jim said, "Did you do that, Will?" I answered, "I did," and then one of the boys who were with me under the wagon said, "Mr. Drannan sure shot him, for he told us to see him get him, and at the report of his gun, Mr. big Chief went to the Indians' happy hunting grounds."

Jim slapped me on the back and said, "That is the best shot you ever made, Will, for that bonnet and that scalp will protect this train from here to California without another shot being fired." I said, "You can have this bonnet to use for a scare crow, Jim, but be sure and take good care of it, for I want to keep it as a memento of this trip."

I then asked Jim if he were going to take the scalps off of the other dead Indians. He said, "No, we have scalps enough now to protect the train, and that is all we want. Besides, we haven't time; we must go on to our camping ground, we have fifty or sixty miles to drive before we can camp for the night."

As we were pulling out, I said to the scouts, "We are in the Buffalo country, and there will be no more trouble with the Indians; let us try to get some fresh meat for supper." I knew that we would camp near a little stream a few miles from where we had the fight, and also that it was a great feeding ground for Buffalo at this time of the year. When we were within a quarter of a mile of the stream, where we were to camp that night, we saw that the valley was covered with Buffalo. I sent all but one of the men down a little ravine to the valley. I told them to dismount and tie their horses just before they got to the valley and to crawl down and each one get behind a tree at the edge of the valley, and I and the other men would go around to the head of the valley and scare the Buffalo, and they would run down to where they were in hiding. I told the men to be sure and not shoot until the Buffalo started to run, and then to shoot all they could get with their guns, and when they had emptied them to use their pistols.

"Let us give the women and children a surprise tonight in giving them all the fresh Buffalo meat they can eat."

Myself and companion rode around to the head of the valley, and when we reached the top of the ridge, we looked down and saw hundreds of Buffalo feeding. We spurred our horses to a run, and in a moment we were in the midst of them, and it certainly was a grand sight to see that immense herd on the stampede, as they all rushed down to the outlet where the boys were waiting for them. In a few moments we heard the report of guns, and we knew that the other boys, were getting the meat for supper. I told my comrade to pick out his Buffalo and I would pick mine, and I said to him, "Now don't shoot until you get near the other boys, and if you want to kill him quick, shoot him through the kidneys." When I had reached the mouth of the valley where the Buffalo had crowded together in one big mass, I chose a two-year-old heifer, rode up to her side and shot her through her kidneys, and she fell at my horse's feet with hardly a struggle. I pulled my pistol and shot another one and broke its neck. My comrade had picked a big cow, and she was the fattest Buffalo I ever saw killed. The other boys had killed twelve, and we got three, making fifteen in all, and what was best of all, the Buffalo all lay near to where Jim had corralled the wagons. As the wagons were corralled, I went to one of the committee and told him that my scouts and I had killed fifteen Buffalo and asked him to send some of the men of the train to help dress them and to divide the meat so all the emigrants could have some fresh meat for their supper, and in a short time I saw men and women with their arms full of meat, hurrying to their camp fires.

Jim and I were sitting on a wagon tongue talking as we usually did every evening when two little girls came running to us and said their papa wanted us to come and eat supper with them. We went with the children to their father's tent, and we found an appetizing meal waiting for us. Jim and I had not tasted any fresh meat since starting out with this train of emigrants at Green river. When we sat down, Jim said, "Lady, I am afraid you will be sorry that you invited Will and me to supper, for you may not have meat enough to go around. We have not had any fresh meat in a dog's age, and we are big meat eaters any time." She answered, "Oh, don't be uneasy. I have two pans full on the fire cooking now. I know how much it takes to fill up hungry men, and you two are not the only hungry men around this camp, and you may be sure we appreciate the feast you planned to surprise us with"; and she turned to me with a smile. "You see, Mr. Drannan, the boys told me all about your suggesting the Buffalo hunt."

I answered that the meal she had set before us would pay for more than I had done. Her husband said, "It has surely been a great benefit to all the people of the train, for we were all suffering for fresh meat, and you don't know how much we appreciate your thoughtfulness in providing it for us."

As I left the tent where I had supper, about a dozen middle-aged ladies came to me and said, "We would like to see that pretty thing you took off that Indian."

I did not know what they meant by "A pretty thing" until Jim said, "Why, Will, they want to see that war bonnet you took with the old chief's scalp."

I went to our pack and got the bonnet and gave it to them, and for the next two hours that Indian adornment was the talk of the camp. It was carried from tent to tent, examined by nearly everyone, old and young, in the whole emigrant train, and it was a curiosity to any white person, and still more so to those not used to the Indians' way of adorning themselves.

Jim explained to the emigrants why this piece of Indian dress in our possession would be a protection to them in case of an attack on us by the Indians; he said, "The Indians have no fear of being killed in battle. Their great dread is of being scalped. They believe that if their scalps are taken off their heads in this world, they will not be revived in the next, or what they call the "Happy Hunting grounds of the Indians," where they will dwell with the great spirit forever, and if they should see this bonnet which none but a great chief can wear they will think we must be powerful to have got it and will keep away from us, fearing they may share the fate themselves."

Jim told the emigrants to be ready for an early start in the morning, and then we separated for the night, the emigrants going to their tents and Jim and I to lay our blankets under a tree.

Next morning after we had a hearty breakfast of cornbread and Buffalo steak, Jim said, "Now, men and women, Will gave you all a treat in Buffalo meat last night, but if all goes well, and we meet with nothing to detain us, in one week from tonight I will give you a treat that will discount his."

An old lady answered, "You must be mistaken, Mr. Bridger, for nothing could taste better then the chunk of meat I broiled over the fire last night."

Jim laughed and said, he would own up to the last night's supper being extra good but asked how she thought Mountain Trout would taste. She said she did not know, as she had never tasted any; Jim said, "Well, you will know in a week from tonight, and you will say that my treat is better than Will's, for Mountain trout is the best fish that ever swam in the water."

We were on the road soon after sunrise the next morning, and everything went well for the next three days. The third day's travel brought us to Humboldt Well. As we were going into camp, I discovered a band of Indians coming directly for the train. I notified Jim at once, and he soon had the train corralled, and the chief's bonnet hung high above the Indian scalps so all the Indians could see it. The savages seemed to discover the bonnet and the scalps as soon as they saw the train, for they stopped and came no nearer, and after gazing at the decorations on the wagons a few moments they wheeled their horses and galloped away in the same direction they had come, and we saw no more of them. As soon as the Indians disappeared Jim slapped his hands and said, "Didn't I tell you the effect that bonnet would have on the Red Skins? And I don't think we will have to shoot another Indian on this trip, for they will not get close enough to us for us to get a show to hit them."

The second day from this camp we reached Truckey river, and it happened to be Saturday, and Jim told the emigrants that this was the place where he proposed to outdo Will in the way of a treat and told them that everyone who could catch a grasshopper could have a mess of fish for supper, as the river was swarming with the speckled beauties, and it was really amusing to see the old of both sexes as well as the children running in every direction, catching the little hopping insects. Everyone seemed to be of one mind, what they were going to have for the evening meal, for they were all on the margin of the river, and Jim and I staid with the wagons and watched the crowd which was great amusement for us, for they were all so excited. But our fun did not last long. In a few minutes the crowd commenced to come back with their bands full of fish; one woman passed us with two little girls. She had about a dozen fish, and the children had their hands full too. She said, "Come, Mr. Bridger, I want you and Mr. Drannan to eat supper with us tonight, and after we get through I will tell you which treat is the best, Buffalo or Mountain Trout."

Jim told her she hadn't got half enough fish for him, not reckoning the members of her own family. She said, "Don't you be uneasy about not having enough. My man will come back in a few minutes, and he will have enough to make out the supper, I reckon."

We went with her to her tent and helped to clean the fish, and it was not long before the appetizing meal was ready. While Jim and I were cleaning the fish that the woman and children had caught, the man came back, and he had fifteen of the handsomest trout I had ever seen on a string. He greeted us with a laugh and said this was the first stream he had ever seen where a man could take a long-handled shovel and pitch out all the fish he had a mind to. "It is wonderful to think of the amount of fish that has been taken out of that stream, and they would not be missed if we wanted more."

Jim said, "If you could stay here and fish a week, they would be just as thick when you got through as they are now, and will be until the spawning season is over."

That night Jim suggested that we get up a party and go over on Truckee Meadows and kill some Antelope tomorrow.

I said, "All right, Jim, that is the greatest feeding ground for Antelope of any I have seen. I will go and speak to my scouts now, and we may get a party so we can start early in the morning."

I hunted my men up and told them what Jim and I thought of doing, and they were delighted with the idea. They said that every man in the outfit that owned a horse and gun would be glad to go with us. I told them to see everyone that they thought would like to or could go and for them to meet us at the head of the corral right after breakfast in the morning.

Next morning Jim and I went to the place agreed upon. We were mounted and had our guns all ready for business, and in a few minutes there were forty-three men all mounted and anxious to go with us on the hunt for Antelope.

Jim told them that the hunting ground was eight or ten miles away from camp, and he said, "I will guarantee that you will see a thousand Antelope today. Now we will all travel together until we begin to see the Antelope."

The place called Truckee Meadows was about twenty miles long and ten miles wide and very level and covered with the tallest sage brush in all the country around and with an abundance of fine grass. We crossed the Truckee river just below where the city of Reno now stands, and then we struck out south east, Jim and I taking the lead and the others following us.

When we were about five miles from camp, I discovered a band of Antelope. They were probably a half a mile from us, and they were feeding in a northeasterly direction. I called Jim's attention to them at once. After he got a good look at them, he said, "I will bet my old hat that there is a thousand Antelope in that band."

We stopped our horses and waited for all the crowd to come up to us, and Jim pointed to the Antelope, saying, "There is your game. Did you ever see a prettier sight? Now my friends, I want every one of you to have an Antelope across your saddle when we go back to camp. It don't make any difference who kills it so we all have an Antelope."

Jim then turned to me and said, "Will, do you see that open ridge yonder?" and he pointed to a low ridge about a mile from us right in the direction towards which the Antelope were feeding. I told him, yes, I saw it. He then said, "I will take all the men but you and two others, and I will station them all along on that little ridge at the edge of sage brush. Now, Will, you pick out your two men and ride clear around the south end of the band, and when they start to run towards us, crowd them as hard as you can, but give us time to locate before you start the band."

My men and I rode probably a mile and a half before we got around the herd, and it looked to us as if the whole valley was covered with Antelope. I told the men not to shoot at first, but to give a whoop or two to get them started and then to crowd them for all they were worth, and when the Antelope got to the open ridge to shoot.

In a few minutes, after we started the herd of Antelope, we heard the guns of Jim and his men, and it sounded as if they kept up a continual fire. When we struck the opening, I told the boys to get all the Antelope they could, and we had a plenty to choose from, for there were hundreds in the herd ahead of us. I fired my rifle and knocked one down, and then I pulled my pistol and got another. Just then I heard someone shouting at the top of his voice just ahead of me. I looked to see who it was and saw Jim Bridger, shaking his hat at me. I held up my horse so I could hear what he said. He cried, "For pity's sake, Will, don't kill any more Antelope, for we have more now than we can carry to camp."

I called my men to me, and we rode to where Jim and his men were waiting for us. Jim said, "Will, I have been in the Antelope country twenty years most of the time, and I never saw so many Antelope together at one time as I saw here this morning; why, there must be fifty or seventy-five laying around here at this minute, that we have shot, and you would not miss them out of the herd."

One of the men said, "It did not need any skill with the rifle, that hunt, for a blind man could not help hitting one of them, for as far as I could see, there was a mass of Antelope."

Every man now went to work skinning and getting the meat ready to carry to camp. My two companions and myself put two Antelopes on each of our horses and started on ahead of the others, and although it was five miles and we walked all the way, we got back to camp a few minutes before they did.

As soon as they saw us, the women came to meet us and wanted to see what we had on our horses. As I threw one of the Antelopes off the horse, a middle aged woman said, "Mr. Drannan, can I have a piece of this one? My little girls have just picked some wild onions, and I can make some hash, and I want you and Mr. Bridger to come and take dinner with us today."

I told her to help herself, that I brought the meat to camp for all of them to eat as far as it would go. Her husband came at that moment with a knife and skinned a portion of the Antelope and cut out what she wanted. By this time the other hunters began coming in, and everyone was getting fresh meat for their dinner, and by the way they acted I thought they enjoyed the Antelope fully as well as they had the Buffalo.

While we ate dinner, I asked Jim how many Antelope were killed by the whole party. He answered. "Why, dog gone it, I forgot to count them, but I know this much. Pretty near all of the men brought two across his saddle, and I will bet that it was the biggest Antelope hunt that was ever in this country before. Why, Will, the Antelope came along so thick at one time that a man could have killed them with rocks."

If the reader will stop to think a moment, I think he will be surprised at the great change that has taken place in that country in fifty years. At that time there was not a white family living within two hundred miles of this place, and if there had been any one brave enough to tell us that in a few years this would be a settled country, we would have thought he was insane. And just think, this very spot where the wild Antelope roamed in countless numbers fifty-five years ago is today Nevada's most prosperous farming country and is worth from fifty to one hundred dollars an acre, and the city of Reno, now a flourishing town of several thousand inhabitants stands on the very spot where we camped and had the Antelope hunt, and I have been told by reliable people that the whole country from the city of Reno to Honey Lake is thickly settled, and that cities and villages and thriving farms now cover the ground where at the time I am speaking of there was nothing but wild animals, and what was worse to contend with, wild savages lurking in the thick sage brush which covered the ground for hundreds of miles, and I am also told that the whole country around Honey Lake is a thriving farming country, but at the time I am speaking of, we did not have an idea that it would ever be settled up with Whites or used for anything but a feeding ground for wild animals. If we had been told at that time that a railroad would pass through the place where the city of Reno now stands, we would have thought the one who told us such a wild, improbable story to be a fit subject for a straight jacket.