CHAPTER XI
More Navajos Arrive with Old Jacob—The Lost Pack-train and a Famished Guide—From Boat to Broncho—On to Kanab—Winter Arrives—Wolf Neighbours too Intimate—Preparing for Geodetic Work—Over the Kaibab to Eight-mile Spring—A Frontier Town—Camp below Kanab—A Mormon Christmas Dance.
At the mouth of the Paria we established ourselves for a stay of several days. Not only did we have the pack-train to wait for, but there were maps to finish, boats to cache, and all manner of things to attend to before we could leave for the winter. Steward recovered so that he could slowly walk around, but to balance this Jones developed inflammatory rheumatism in both knees, but especially in the one which had been injured by the fall at the Junction. Though he was perfectly cheerful about it, he suffered excruciating pain, and was unable to move from the bed of willows which we made for him. The medicine chest was drawn on again, and we hoped that the attack would not last long. Andy remained wan and thin, but he insisted on sticking to his work. So liberally had we used our rations that we were nearing the end, and we began to look hopefully in the direction from which we expected the pack-train to arrive. Four days passed and still there was no sign of it. We had to put ourselves on half-rations once more, and Prof. declared that if the train did not soon arrive either he or I, being the only entirely well members of the party, would have to walk out to Kanab and obtain relief. None of us knew anything about the trail. On the 26th Prof. and I climbed the cliffs back of camp to a height of two thousand feet, and had a remarkable view similar to that from Echo Peaks. On Saturday, October 28th, in the morning we were surprised to hear from the opposite or south side of the river an Indian yell, and looking across we perceived what appeared to be three natives, with horses, standing on the edge of the canyon wall, here very low. We prepared one of the boats to cross and find out what was wanted, when a fourth figure joined the group, and in good English came the words, "G-o-o-d m-o-r-n-i-n-g," long drawn out. On landing we were met by a slow-moving, very quiet individual, who said he was Jacob Hamblin. His voice was so low, his manner so simple, his clothing so usual, that I could hardly believe that this was Utah's famous Indian-fighter and manager. With him were three other white men, Isaac Haight, George Adair, Joe Mangum, and nine Navajos, all on their way to the Mormon settlements. They desired to be put across the river, and we willingly offered the services of ourselves and our boats. Some of the Navajos had never before seen so large a stream, and were free to express their surprise. We took on board Jacob and one or two others, and after landing them made several trips with both boats to ferry the rest over, including all their saddles and baggage. The Navajos were rather afraid of the boats, which to them probably looked small and wobbly, but they all got on board with much hilarity, except one who preferred to swim. He struck boldly out with a sort of dog-paddle stroke. Having no confidence in his swimming ability, we followed closely. The water was cold; the distance greater than the Navajo had imagined. Before he was one third of the way over he consented to be pulled into our boat and finish the passage that way. The horses were towed over, swimming behind the boats, a rope being held by a man sitting in the stern. There was a rapid not far below, and we feared if driven in to swim loose they might be drawn into it. One horse refused to swim or even to try, and made repeated efforts to plunge his head under, giving us a lot of trouble, but by holding his head close to the boat we towed him across in spite of his opposition. Without the boat he would surely have gone down the river. When everybody and everything were safely across the hour was so late that Jacob concluded to camp with us for the night.[24]
The Navajos were found to be a very jolly set of fellows, ready to take or give any amount of chaff, and perfectly honest. They were taking blankets of their manufacture to trade for horses and sheep. Their spirits ran high, they sang their wild songs for us, and we had the liveliest evening we had seen in many a month. Finally we joined in a circle with them, dancing and singing around the smouldering fire, while the chief Konéco, a noble-looking fellow, sitting at one side, with a patriarchal expression, monotonously drummed an accompaniment with a willow root on the bottom of one of the camp-kettles. When any of us would stumble on a stick they were all convulsed with laughter. The blankets they had were beautiful, and Jacob possessed one valued at $40, which had taken seventy days to make. After the Navajos had gone to rest we listened to some Mormon songs by Jacob's party. They left us the next morning, Sunday, October 29th, Prof. obtaining from Jacob some red Mexican beans to eke out our supplies; also a description of the trail. I traded a cap I happened to have to one of the Navajos for his feather plume, and a pair of shoes to one of the white men for some Mishongnuvi moccasins. Monday we took the Dean across the river, and some distance down we hauled her by means of ropes up high above the water under a large rock, where we concealed her well. Then we made five caches near camp of goods not needed till next year, covering our traces by fires and other devices. Jones was so much improved that he managed to hobble about on a pair of crutches I had made for him out of strong willow sticks, and we felt much encouraged as to his ability to stand riding when the time came to start for Kanab.
On Tuesday we built a shelter back of camp for the Nell and housed her there. The next day was the first of November and we thought surely the pack-train would come, but the sun went down behind the cliffs and no one arrived. Prof. could not understand what the trouble was, but he went on with his observations. The next morning, as we were about to eat our bean breakfast beside the fire, we were astonished by the extremely cautious appearance through the willows, without a word of announcement, of a single, ragged, woebegone, silent old man on as skinny and tottering a pony as ever I saw. The old man was apparently much surprised to find himself here, and with the exclamation, "My God! I have found you!" he dropped to the ground. When at last he spoke he said his name was Mangum of Kanab, and that he had been employed to guide our pack-train, of which Riley, one of the prospectors we had met at El Vado, was leader. "Well, where is the train?" we asked, for if he were all that remained of it we wanted to know it soon. "Several miles back on the trail," he said. Not having eaten a mouthful since the morning before it was no wonder he was weak and silent. We gave him the best breakfast we could command from our meagre stock and then like a spectre he vanished on his scrawny steed up the Paria Canyon. All the day long we watched and waited for his triumphal return with the longed-for supplies at his back, but the sun departed without his approach and the twilight died into that mystery which leaves the world formless against the night. And still we had faith in the stranger's story. Early the next morning Prof., Clem, and I started on his track thinking we would soon meet the train. It led us up the valley of the Paria, between the great cliffs about three miles, and then we had another surprise, for it swung sharply to the right and climbed a steep sandy slope towards the only apparent place where the two-thousand-foot cliffs could possibly be scaled with horses. We saw that he had followed a very old Indian trail. When we had mounted to the base of the vertical rocks we travelled zig-zagging back and forth across the face of the precipice till presently the trail passed through a notch out upon the plateau. From an eminence we now scanned the whole visible area without discovering anything that apparently had not been there for several thousand years. Save the coming and going tracks of our strange visitor there was nothing to show that any living animal had trod this place in centuries. We could see to where Prof. and I previously climbed to this same plateau, and to-day was like yesterday and yesterday like the year before last. Time and the years were as little grains of drifting sand.
Leaving Clem as a sentinel on our observation point Prof. followed the out track and told me to follow the in till three o'clock. It was now high noon. I walked on and on through an arid, wonderful maze of sand, rocks, and cacti, feeling that the old horseman was no more than a phantom, when in half an hour I almost fell upon our lost pack-train meandering slowly and silently through a depression. I fired our signal shots and Prof. soon joined us. The situation was precarious. The animals were nearly dead from thirst, one had been abandoned, and Riley was in a state of pent-up rage that was dangerous for the spectre guide, who had nearly been the destruction of the whole outfit, for he did not know the trail and was himself lost. Of course he blamed Riley—it was his only defence. Riley broke loose in a string of fiery oaths, declaring he would shoot "the old fool," then and there. But receiving no encouragement from Prof. or me he didn't. There was a third member of the party, Joe Hamblin, a son of Jacob, a very sturdy young fellow. He said afterwards that he thought often that Riley would "sure let daylight through the old man." Our next care was to successfully manœuvre the pack-animals down the difficult trail across the face of the cliff, which had not seen a horse for many a year and probably never had been traversed by animals with packs on their backs. We had to watch that they did not crowd each other off, but with all our exertions one fell and rolled down a few feet. He was not injured and we continued the descent, finally reaching the bottom without so much as a scratch of any consequence. There, at the Paria, the horses enjoyed the first full drink for several days and we followed it down to camp. Riley had started from Kanab October 23d and had been twelve days making a journey that required at most only four or five by the regular trail. Mangum had not known the way, had led toward El Vado, and his finding the Indian trail to the mouth of the Paria was an accident.
Provisions were now plenty again, and by the light of a big fire we overhauled the mail, finding letters, newspapers and magazines enough to satisfy any party. Word was received from the Major to move to a place called House Rock Spring, and Prof. said we would leave Camp 86 on November 5th, which gave us a day intervening in which to pack up. About noon of this packing day we were not surprised when two horsemen, Haight and Riggs, galloped into camp at full speed leading a lightly laden pack-mule. They had come through in two and one half days, at top speed, by direction of Jacob, who on reaching Kanab with the Navajos learned that our pack-train had left long before, and he had seen nothing of it. On the pack-mule were fifty pounds of flour and several rolls of butter; the first time we had seen any of this latter article since the final breakfast at Field's on May 22d. They were greatly relieved to know that the train was found and that all was well. They brought news of the burning of Chicago about a month before. In the evening Isaac Haight favoured us with some Mormon songs and recited examples of the marvellous curative effects of the Mormon "laying on of hands." Heavy clouds had settled along the face of the cliffs and the air grew wintry. We felt the chill keenly, as we were not clad for cold weather. In the morning snow began to drop gently out of the leaden sky and continued all day, preventing any one from starting. Soon the cliffs and Echo Peaks were white and we knew that now autumn was gone. Toward evening the sun flared across the rocky landscape, turning everything to gold, and we believed the next day would be fair. We were not disappointed. Monday the 6th of November came sharp and cold. Haight, Riggs, Mangum, and Joe Hamblin left early and we got under way as soon as we could. With two very sick men and a new method of travel it was not easy. We had to learn the art of packing on mules and horses from Riley, who was an expert in this line and who could "sling the diamond hitch" with great skill. He was just as handy with a lasso and seldom missed if he wished to catch an animal, but Prof. did not approve of the lasso method, for it makes stock wild and unmanageable. His way was the quiet one and he was right, for we soon had the entire herd so that there was no rumpus at starting-time. With a free use of the lasso preparations to start partake of the activity of a tornado.
Steward by this time was able to walk slowly. Andy was well enough to travel on his feet, but Jones could not move at all without crutches. We did not have extra horses for all to ride, so Steward and Andy changed off, while the rest of us had to walk. Jones we lifted as gently as possible, though it was pain even to be touched in his condition, upon Riley's special horse called Doc, a well-trained, docile animal, who walked off with him. It was after noon before the start was accomplished, and meanwhile I went back on the incoming trail of the lost pack-train to the foot of the steep precipice for Riley's canteen, which had been forgotten there, and when I returned all were gone but Steward, Clem, and Beaman, who had remained behind to round up a young steer which had been driven in with the train for us to convert into beef at a convenient opportunity. As the advance party travelled very slowly we soon caught them, the steer being gentle as a kitten. The trail followed south along the foot of the cliffs which emerged from Paria Canyon, and to which the Major had given the name of Vermilion on account of their rich red colour. We wound in and out of deep alcoves, around the heads of impassable lateral canyons running to the Colorado, and past enormous rocks balanced in every conceivable position on extremely slender pedestals. After about eight miles we arrived at a diminutive spring, which gave enough water for Andy to make bread and coffee with, but none for the stock. There we camped. A few armfuls of scraggy sage-brush furnished wood for a fire, but it was not enough to make our invalids comfortable, and the night was cold and raw. We did all we could for them and they did not grumble.