Forty Years Among the Indians / A true yet thrilling narrative of the author's experiences among the natives

by Daniel W. Jones

Boyce, who went through with the express, found the horse, loaned by Toquana, all right. He packed the goods on him, after getting to hard ground, went on to the agency, transacted the business, got a yoke of cattle and a light wagon, and came out and met us at the snow line. So everything went off smoothly on this trip. On my arrival at the agency, I found it would be impossible for me to get the trader's position and be true to the Indians. What I had started to do for them would make the agent my enemy, so I concluded to stick to the peace-making, let it cost what it might.

On getting the Indians together and talking to them, we came to a full understanding and agreement. By this time they had come to believe in and trust me implicitly. I agreed to procure all the evidence I could in regard to irregularities on the part of the agents. Such evidence I had been gathering up for some time, to make a report to Washington in their behalf, and do all I could to get them their rights. There was not much provisions at the agency at this time for the Indians. Only a few sacks of flour. I assured them that if they would come in and visit the Mormons, that they would be glad and would not fight them, but would treat them as friends, as was the custom before the war.

This finally was agreed upon. I knew that some move of importance, sufficient to cause the government to take notice, had to be made. So it was arranged that all the Indians should leave the reservation and refuse to return until they were furnished with supplies, and a better system of provisioning them devised. They hated the agent as he had acted very insultingly to some of them. They urged hard that I would send in evidence of his wrong-doing, and get him removed. I told them maybe they would get a worse one, but they insisted that there was no danger.

I did not agree with the idea of the Indians. The present agent had not been long in position, and from what I knew and had heard about former agents, he was not nearly so bad as some of his predecessors. In fact I believed him capable of making a very good agent when once posted on the duties of his office.

My interests were entirely centered on doing the best for the Indians I possibly could, also that the people would be relieved from their depredations.

The furs and skins that I had bought from the old trader amounted to some twenty odd hundred pounds. The ground was now bare for some seventy-five miles; the snow being still deep for about the same distance. I bought a wagon and team from the trader, loaded all up and pulled up to the snow region, where we turned the team out, loaded up our dog sleds and, by making an average of three return trips, moved our whole load six miles each day. Our dogs were fed mostly on beaver meat, caught by trapping in the streams along the route.

On nearing Provo valley I went ahead to get teams to come out and meet the dog train a few miles from Heber City. It took two light wagons to contain our load. We made the trip down Provo canyon and camped one night near American Fork. I had been from home longer than was expected; there were no means of communication and I felt very anxious to get home as I believed my family would be uneasy about me.

At that time the terminus of the Utah Central was at Draperville. I started out early in the morning on foot to make to the train by 8 o'clock, some eight miles distant. I had been working on snow shoes for most of the winter; I was now on good dry road and was wearing Indian moccasins. I was feeling well and in good trim, so I had but little fears of making the distance in time.

After traveling a short distance I heard a wagon approaching. On looking around I recognized a gentleman who had always professed great friendship and interest in my labors among the Indians. It occurred to me that I would see if he would ask me to ride without my making the request. He drove by without turning his head. I made up my mind that although he was driving a nice fine traveling team, to beat him into the station. This I did. He drove quite fast, but I kept in sight of him all the way, passing the team about a mile before reaching the station.

As I went by he spoke to me, saying he had not recognized me before. I replied that I was in a hurry and could not stop. One of his horses suddenly failed, causing them to halt. This friend (?) probably never passed a footman afterwards without thinking of the circumstance.