Capt. W. F. Drannan, Chief of Scouts, As Pilot to Emigrant and Government Trains, Across the Plains of the Wild West of Fifty Years Ago

by William F. Drannan

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?"

[Illustration: They raced around us in a circle.]

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.

We pulled out of there early Monday morning; we took the trail up Long Valley towards Honey Lake, which we reached on the evening of the third day. Nothing occurred to disturb us during this time. As soon as we went into camp that evening the emigrants got out their fishing tackle and went to the lake. Some of them caught some fish, but many of them came back disappointed. None had the luck they'd had at Truckee river. Still, the most of us had some fish for supper that night.

While we were at supper, Jim told the people that they were through catching trout, that the next fish we had would be salmon. They said they had never heard of that kind and asked what it looked like. Jim told them that the meat of some kinds of salmon was as red as beef, while another kind was pink, and still another kind was yellow, and they were considered the finest fish that swim in the water, and he continued, "I have seen them so thick in the spring in some of the streams in California that it was difficult to ride my horse through them without mashing them, and they ran against the horse's legs and frightened him so that he was as eager to get away from them as they were of him."

An old man presently asked how large a salmon usually was, to which Jim answered, "Well, they run in weight from ten to fifty pounds, but I have seldom seen one as small as ten pounds, and they are very fat when they are going upstream to spawn, but when they are coming down they are so poor they can scarcely swim."

We left Honey Lake in the morning, and the third day from there we struck the Sacramento valley, and we now told the emigrants that they had no further use for our services, that their road was perfectly safe from this point to Sacramento city.

Two of the committee came to us and said, "As this is Saturday we will camp here until Monday, and we want you two men to stay with us, for the women want to fix up something for you to eat on your way back."

Jim answered that we would stay with them over Sunday and take a rest, for we had a long and tiresome journey before us, but it must be understood that we did not want the women to go to cooking for us, for all we could take with us was a few loaves of bread, enough to last us a few days. Our meat we could get as we wanted it, which would be our principal food on the trip, as it always was when we were alone.

Sunday was a very pleasant, restful day to us. All the emigrants seemed to vie with each other in being social. Among the company was a man and wife by the name of Dent; these two came to us and said that they were going to make their home in Sacramento city and were going into business there, and they wanted us if we ever came there to come to them and make their home ours as long as we wished to stay, for, said they, "We appreciate what you have done for us on this journey we have passed through. Besides the protection you have given us, the Buffalo and Antelope meat you have shown us how to get and have helped to get has been worth more money to us than all we have paid you to pilot us to California.".

We thanked them for their kind offer and good opinion of us but disclaimed having done anything but our duty by them.

Monday morning Jim and I were about the first to be astir. We caught our horses and had them saddled by the time breakfast was ready, and we accepted the first invitation offered us to eat. While we were eating, our hostess said she had baked two loaves of bread for us to take with us, and that she had roasted the last piece of Antelope that she had and wanted us to take that too. We took the food this lady had prepared for us and went to our horses, but before we reached them we saw the women coming from every direction with bread and cake. Jim said, "Will, let's fill this sack with bread and cake if they insist on giving it to us and then get away as soon as possible."

As Jim made this remark, it was very amusing to see how every woman tried to get her package in the sack first, but it would not begin to hold half that was brought. As soon as the sack was full, Jim said, "Now ladies, we can take no more, so be kind to us in letting us get away."

By the time we had our pack fixed on our pack horses' backs, every man and woman and all the children were around us to bid us farewell and good speed on our journey back to Taos, New Mexico.

We had shaken hands with probably a hundred or more when Jim sprang upon his horse all at once, saying, "Now friends, we will consider we have all shaken hands," and he took off his hat and, waving it to the assembled crowd, gathered up his reins and galloped away, and I followed suit. But as long as we were in hearing distance we could hear, "Good bye, good bye," floating on the wind. As the sight of the train faded in the distance, we waved our hats for the last time.

For the next two days everything went smoothly with Jim and me, which brought us to Honey Lake. The night we reached Honey Lake, we camped in a little grove of timber near a pearling stream of cool, sparkling water about a half a mile south of the trail.

We had eaten our supper and were about to spread our blankets and turn in for the night when we heard a dog bark close to our camp, but it was too dark to see him. Jim said, "Don't that beat any thing you ever heard?"

We listened a moment, and then it was a howl, and then in a moment he barked again. Jim said, "You stay in camp, Will, and I will take my gun and see what is the matter."

In a moment Jim called, "I see him." I waited about an hour before Jim came back and was beginning to feel anxious about him. When I heard his footsteps, he said, "I followed that dog nearly a mile, and then I found the cause of his howling, and what do you think it was?" I answered, "Jim, I have no idea," to which he said, "Well, I will tell you. I found the body of a dead man laying on his blanket just as if he was laying down to rest. I did not get near the dog until I had discovered the body, and then he was very friendly with me, and came and whined, and wagged his tail, as if he knew me. I looked all around, but I could find nothing but the body laying on the blanket. I could not see that there had been a fire, and I saw no signs of a horse or anything else, and the strange part of it is that, although the dog was so friendly with me, I could not coax him away from the body which I suppose was his master."

I asked Jim what he thought it was best to do. He answered, "What can we do, Will? We have no tools to dig a grave with, and the body is laying among the rocks, and I expect that dog will stay beside it and starve to death."

"Wouldn't it be a good idea to go to the place in the morning and pile rocks on the body to keep the wolves and other wild animals from eating it up?" Jim said, "Yes, we will do that, and we will shoot some jack-rabbits and leave them with the dog, so he can have something to eat for a few days anyhow."

On the way over to the place where the body lay, we killed three rabbits and threw them to the dog, and he ate them as if he was nearly starved, and I have always thought that his master died of starvation, as he had no gun or pistol with which to kill anything to eat, and Jim thought that he must have got lost from some emigrant train and wandered around until he was too weak to go farther and lay down and died with no one but his faithful dog to watch over him in his last moments.

We covered him up with stones and brush the best we could and left him and the poor dog together, although we tried every way we could to tempt the animal away. The faithful dog would not leave his master's body. After trying persuasion until we saw it was no use, Jim said, "Let's put a rope around his neck and lead him off." I answered, "No, Jim, if he will not be coaxed away, it would not be right to force him to leave his dead master." Jim said, "It seems too bad to leave him to starve, but you are right, Will," and so we left him, and we never saw him again.

Saddened with the experience of the morning, we mounted our horses and struck for the trail. We had nothing more to disturb us for the next three days. About the middle of the afternoon of the third day we were riding along slowly, talking about where we should camp that night, when Jim happened to look off to the south, and he saw a band of Indians about a mile from us, and they were coming directly towards us, but we could not tell whether they had seen us or not. Jim said, "Let's put spurs to our horses and see if we can get away from them Red devils without a fight with them."

We put our horses to a run and had kept them going this gate for five or six miles when we came to the top of a little ridge, and in looking back we saw the Indians about a half a mile in the rear and coming as fast as their horses could carry them.

Jim said, "Will, we are in for it now, and we must find a place where we can defend ourselves."

At that moment I saw a little bunch of timber a few hundred yards ahead of us. I pointed to it and said to Jim, "Let's get in there and show them our war bonnet and scalps, and maybe that will save us from having a fight with the Red imps."

Jim laughed and said, "Why dog gone it, Will, I forgot all about your war bonnet. Sure, that will be the very thing to do."

We had reached the timber while we talked. We now dismounted and tied our horses, and in less time than one could think we had the war bonnet and scalps dangling from the trees all around our horses. We had scarcely got ready for them when the Red Skins were in sight. They raced around us in a circle but did not come in gun shot of us. They went through this performance a few times and then stopped and took a good look at our decorations, and then they wheeled their horses and left in the direction they had come from, and that was the last we saw of that bunch of Indians.

We waited a few minutes to be sure that all was clear, and then we mounted again and rode about two miles before we found water so we could camp for the night. When we were eating our supper that night, Jim said, "Will, I don't think you realize what a benefit those scalps and that bonnet is to us; if I were you, I would never part with that bonnet as long as you are in the Indian country. This being a Ute bonnet, the Comanches will offer you all kinds of prices for it, but if I were you I would not sell it at any price."

I answered, "Jim, I am going to keep that bonnet for two reasons. One is for the protection of my own scalp and the other is to keep in remembrance my last trip in company with you as a pilot across the plains to California."

Jim looked at me a moment and then said, "Will, you don't pretend to say that you will never take any more trips with me."

I answered, "Yes Jim, I mean what I say. This is my last trip as a pilot for emigrants."

Jim did not answer for a few moments, and then he said, "Who will go with me next year Willie? I thought the pilot business just suited you."

I answered, "In some respects I do like it, and in others I dislike it very much. You know yourself how impossible it is to please everybody. There are so many of the people who come from the east that don't think there is any more danger of the Indians than there is of the Whites, and you know Jim that is the class of people who will always get us into trouble. See what those nineteen smart alecks did for us on this last trip. Do you think if they had known any thing of Indian trickery they would have left our protection to go hunting in the very heart of the Indian country? And if we had not been firm with the rest of those people the whole outfit would have been scalped and then we would have had to bear the blame."

Jim answered, "There is more truth than poetry in all you say Will, but maybe you will change your mind when spring comes."

We had a peaceful night's sleep and pulled out on the road bright and early the next morning. We left the main trail and took a south east course and crossed the extreme southern portion, of what is now the state of Utah. We traveled hundreds of miles in this country without seeing a human being.

A year ago I passed through this same country in a comfortable seat in a railroad car, and it would be difficult for me to make the people of this day understand the feelings that I experienced when in looking from the car window I saw the changes that fifty-five years have made in what was a wild, rough wilderness, inhabited by Buffaloes, Antelopes, Coyotes and savage men.

We kept on through this section of country until we struck the Colorado river, which we crossed just below the mouth of Green river, and a few days' travel brought us into the northwest part of what is now New Mexico.

The country which is now New Mexico was at the time of which I am writing considered perfectly worthless. It is a rolling, hilly country with smooth, level valleys between the hills and is proving to be very fertile and is settling as fast as any part of the west.

There was nothing more to trouble us, and we made good progress on our journey, and in ten days from the time we left the Colorado river we reached Taos, New Mexico, which was the end of our journey, and tired and worn with the long hours in the saddle and the anxiety of mind which we had experienced in all the long months since we left there in the spring, we were glad to get there and rest a few days and to feel that we were free with no responsibility.

[Illustration: The mother bear ran to the dead cub and pawed it with her foot.]