Opening the iron trail

by Edwin L. Sabin

Sol Judy and Jim Bridger proceeded to squat and hobnob, while Terry and Mr. Duff—and Mr. Corwith, too—lingered near, curiously listening. General Dodge’s party returned in haste. Tonight all camped together. The general had about decided upon a site for the division town; but old Jim principally held the floor with his funny stories and quaint remarks.

He was a tall, wiry, leather-faced man; not so very old in years but old in experience. Had trapped beaver in the far West since 1823—had explored the Salt Lake in a skin boat in 1826—claimed to have been through the marvelous Yellowstone region years before it was known to white men—had been owner of the Bridger’s Fort trading post, in the mountains on the Salt Lake and California Overland trail until the Mormons of Utah had driven him out—had guided the army through Indian country; and withal was so full of funny stories that he could keep everybody in a roar.

He and General Dodge were great friends.

“These gents thought I couldn’t tell you fellows from Injuns, Jim,” complained Sol. “Yes, sir; and didn’t believe me till they leveled the glasses on you. Just as though I didn’t have eyes of my own.”

“Pshaw, now; that’s not a wrinkle to what I’ve had to put up with,” drawled old Jim. “When I was guidin’ the troops on that thar Powder River campaign, same time Gin’ral Dodge was out, I see an Injun smoke only ’bout fifty miles yon, t’other side a few mountains, an’ I reported to the cap’n. Says I: ‘Cap’n, thar’s an Injun camp yon, t’other side them mountains, an’ they’re watchin’ ye, like as not.’ ‘Whar, major?’ says he. ‘Right over thar by that ’er saddle,’ says I, p’intin’ for him. Wall, the cap’n looked through his spy-glass, an’ said he couldn’t see nary smoke. Then he reported to the gin’ral—Gin’ral Conner, that was—an’ the gin’ral he looked through his glass, an’ he couldn’t see. An’ thar was the smoke colyumns as plain as the nose on your face, only fifty mile away. So I didn’t say ’nother word, ’cept that it had come to a pretty state o’ things when a passel o’ paper-collar soldiers’d tell a reg’lar mountain-man that thar wasn’t smoke when thar was. But in two days some o’ Cap’n North’s Pawnees come in from a scout yonder an’ blamed if they didn’t say they’d located an Injun village precisely whar I’d seen that thar smoke. So all we had to do was to go over an’ get the Injuns, in the battle o’ Tongue River.”

“You must have wonderful eyesight, major,” complimented Mr. Corwith. “I expect you are used to seeing things.”

“Yep, arter forty years in the mountains a man gets used to seein’ things. But even then he can’t ’most always sometimes tell. Did ye ever hear about when I was in the Yallerstone? Wall, one time thar, I think I see a passel o’ Injuns in camp ’bout three mile off, an’ I reckoned they saw me; but I watched ’em a long time, kinder curyus, an’ they didn’t get any closer; an’ when I was sneakin’ ’round, durned if I didn’t run slap ag’in the side of a mountain, solid crystal, cl’ar as air, an’ three miles through. You see, them Injuns war on t’other side of it; an’ they couldn’t get at me an’ I couldn’t get at them.”

“That wasn’t the same mountain the Indians chased you around, was it, major?” slyly asked General Dodge.

“No, sir. But that thar was a great trick, wasn’t it? You see, gents, some Injuns got arter me, on the side of a mountain. So I jest run an’ run, afoot, ’round an’ ’round, like a squirrel on a stump, an’ they tuk arter. We all run an’ we run; and what with bein’ on a slant, like, pretty soon the down-hill legs o’ the Injuns’ ponies got stretched, tryin’ to keep their footin’; an’ when I seed, I made for level ground. Then the ponies couldn’t do nothin’ but run circles, their legs bein’ unequal; an’ I got away, easy.”

The next morning the site of the new division point was staked by Mr. Evans and surveyors, under direction of General Dodge. There did not seem to be much choice—the bare rolling plains looked all much the same, clear to the foot of the Laramie Range which was called the Black Hills; but he had figured closely. Crow Creek would supply water; Denver was about 115 miles south, Julesburg was 140 miles east—a branch line would be run down to Denver, and the trains from the east would change engines here, for the climb over the Black Hills. It would be a place for a junction, and for a round-house.