History of the big bonanza

by Dan De Quille

When the relief-party started on their return from the cabins, they were obliged to leave behind Mr. Donner, a farmer from Illinois, who was very ill; also, his wife, who refused to be saved if her husband must be left behind. Keysbury, a German, for some reason for which no satisfactory explanation has ever been given, was left behind with the Donners. These three persons were left to winter in the camp, such provisions as could be spared by the relief-party being given them. What passed in the lone camp during the dark and dreary months that followed, will never be known.

In April, a party, under General Kearney, was sent out to bring these persons over the mountains. On entering the camp, only Keysbury was found alive. The party found the body of Mr. Donner in a tent, where it had been carefully laid out by his wife. Nothing could be seen of Mrs. Donner, however. Old Keysbury was found reclining at his ease upon the floor of one of the cabins, calmly smoking his pipe, and apparently engaged in watching the smoke-wreaths as they curled upward. He sat near a wide fireplace on the hearth of which blazed a fire, on which hung a camp-kettle, found to be half filled with human flesh. Near at hand stood a bucket partly filled with blood and pieces of human flesh, while pieces of human flesh, fresh and bloody, were strewn about the floor.

Old Keysbury himself presented a most repulsive appearance—no ogre or ghoul, feasting in his den, could have been more hideous. His beard was of great length, and spread in tangled strings over his breast, his hair in a great, matted mop, hung about his shoulders and stood out over his eyes, while the nails of his fingers had grown to such a length that they resembled the claws of a wild beast. He was ragged to an indecent degree, exceedingly filthy, and as ferocious as he was filthy. When confronted in his den and discovered in the very act of indulging in his cannibal feast, he roused up and glared upon those who approached as though he were a hyena.

After some trouble he was secured and was then charged with having murdered Mrs. Donner for her flesh and money. He stoutly denied the charge, but a rope having been placed about his neck and one end of it thrown over the limb of a tree, the old fiend began to beg for his life, and, being released, showed where he had hidden a portion of the money. In pity of his miserable condition—he appearing not wholly in his right mind—and in view of the apparent fact that he was driven to the deed by the pangs of hunger, Keysbury’s life was spared, but he was driven forth from the society of his kind, and became a wanderer on the face of the earth, spurned and avoided wherever he became known.

A young son and daughter of the Donners were rescued by the first relief-party. They were carried over the deep snow that lay in the mountains, on the backs of men. When these children reached San Francisco they excited universal sympathy[sympathy] and in order to do something toward giving them a start in the world, they were granted a 100-vara lot each. Many years afterwards, when the village of Yerba Buena became San Francisco, and a great and rich city, these lots became the subject of a lawsuit of much importance. The remains of the Donner cabins were to be seen until a few years since. In some of the cabinets of the curious, in Virginia City, are bones collected at the old Donner camp, about the sites of the decayed cabins, and some of these may even have been gnawed by old Keysbury.

At no great distance from Virginia City, there are in several localities hot springs, all of which possess medicinal virtues and are much frequented by persons afflicted with rheumatism and kindred disorders. The most wonderful of all these are the Steamboat Springs, in Steamboat Valley, on the line of the Virginia and Truckee Railroad, about midway between Reno and Carson City. The springs are situated on a low mound, about a mile in length and six hundred feet in width, formed of rocky incrustations deposited by the mineral waters. Running north and south through this low ridge are several large crevices from which arise columns of steam, heated air and gases.

WINTER IN THE MOUNTAINS.

Early in the morning, when the air is cool and calm, as many as sixty or seventy columns of steam may be seen rising along the ridge, many of which ascend to the height of over fifty feet. Far down in the crevices, which are over a foot in width, may be heard the surging of billows of boiling water. At the sides and ends of the crevices are a great number of boiling springs, some of which spurt water to the height of two or three feet above the surface. A strong smell of sulphur pervades the atmosphere, and pure sulphur is found in many places along the line of the large crevices.

At times, some of these springs spout water to a great height. In 1860, one about the diameter of an ordinary well, threw a column of hot water three feet in diameter to the height of over fifty feet. This spring was intermittent. After spouting steadily for an hour it would suddenly cease with a sound as of a great sigh, as the direction of the internal force changed and the water seemed sucked back into the regions below. The eruptions of this spring occurred once in about eight hours. After the water was sucked back into the ground, a hole about nine feet in depth was seen, the bottom of which was covered with sand. The withdrawing of the water through this sand appeared to be the cause of the sighing sound heard at the end of each eruption.