STARTS FOR THE FAR WEST.
We left Fort Smith April 12th, 1849, traveled westerly up the Canadian river through the territory of the Choctaws and other of those friendly tribes, who had been moved from Georgia, Alabama and other Southern States. Thence our route of travel was westerly up that river through the present territory of Oklahoma, up onto broad open plains to Sante Fe, Albuquerque, thence down the Rio Grande to near El Paso, thence to Tucson, to the Pimo villages, down the Gila to the Colorado, where Fort Yuma now is, thence across the Great American Desert, and so through arable California to Los Angeles, to San Pedro, thence by Barque Hector, by sea, to San Francisco.
Some little distance from Ft. Smith, our route of travel was mostly through low valley lands with a number of rather large streams, with considerable rain, hence our progress was rather slow. After going about 150 miles, my leg became seriously injured from a horse floundering in the mud. This injury in such surroundings grew rapidly more serious. Two reputable medical men in the train gave me kind treatment and rather gloomy prognostications, hinting at the possibilities of amputation. Though they knew no more than this half-baked doctor, everything tended to make me despondent.
Just then a young man, whose wealthy father lived in Ft. Smith, and who knew of the friendship of old John Wheeler and family for me, said: "Young fellow, you are in a bad fix. You had better return and let those Wheeler girls and their mother take care of you and you'll soon be as good as new—don't say you can't stand the trip—you can ride horse-back. There is one of my best horses, saddle, bridle and lariat; take them and deliver them to my father at Ft. Smith." Others thought well of this scheme, which rekindled a tender feeling for one of the half-breed Cherokee girls and made me feel homesick. So it did not take much persuasion to start me on the back out trip, dear old Charlie Hudspeth having refunded all I had paid him.
Soon afterwards I was taken in for the night by a Choctaw family. Though full blooded Indians, they were intelligent, well-to-do people, who treated me with royal hospitality. I made myself solid with them by saying my people knew their's well and were always on friendly terms with them before removal from Southern States. When they were told of my having lived with the Wheeler family, though the latter were Cherokees, they made me feel very much at home. There was a continuous rain and they prevailed on me to remain until its subsidence—which was not for several days—and had the effect to overflow a large stream nearby. Remembering some of my bad luck in high water when a mail carrier, I determined not to take any chances now—happy indeed in having so good a stopping place. Cleanliness and rest worked wonders in my injured leg within the few days thus waterbound.