The Western Echo / A Description of the Western State and Territories of the United States. As Gathered in a Tour by Wagon

by George W. Romspert

Well, we were now ready, and again rolled on, crossing over a dry, barren belt of country, and at length arrived at Green River, a little town situated on the banks of a stream from which it takes its name. At this place the stream is one hundred and fifty yards wide, and the water, as indicated by the name, is really of a light-green color. It is also very clear and deceiving, and rolls so rapidly that it is considered a very dangerous stream. The evening that we arrived there was a man upon the opposite shore with a large herd of horses that he had raised in Idaho, and which he was driving East. They persistently refused to enter the water; but after repeated attempts they were started in. Seeing them drifting far down the stream, he swam his horse in below, intending to keep them up. He was known to be an expert swimmer; but the herd drifted against him, and in some way getting dismounted, he was borne down beneath the surface; and the fishes that sport beneath the green waters are probably to-day playing around his white frame. His wife and two children witnessed the terrible sight from the bank, and were almost distracted with grief; but the mad waters rolled on, and they were widow and fatherless.

There was a whole gang of miserable-looking Arkansas emigrants, with their ox-teams, and old wagons with tops patched with dish-rags, old hats, etc., stopping upon the bank, and thinking themselves unable to pay the ferryman’s bill of three dollars per wagon, were debating what to do to get beyond. The price was exorbitant; and finding the ferryman a very independent gentleman, I jumped on a pony and rode into the stream to try its depth. The waters were very clear, and I found the depth to be very irregular,—some places being very deep, and others but three and four feet. I was very careful in picking my route and marking it by objects upon the bank, and at length went back for the wagon. We passed ropes under the bed and lifted it up to the top rings in the standards, and after putting the stoutest horse on the upper side, and tying a couple of stones to the axles, we drove in. This was an anxious moment for the Arkansas emigrants, who lined themselves upon the bank like a lot of mud-turtles in a morning-sun, and watched every turn. We got off the route a little a few times, and the horses could hardly keep their feet in the deep water, but we arrived safely beyond. A loud cheer went up from the Arkansas side just as we landed; and though the ferryman became very clever, and offered his services very reasonably, the oxen were yoked, the little ones loaded up, and in they came in our course. It was an interesting sight, and we stayed to see it. The oxen refused obedience, and were hard to manage in the deep waters, and several times some of the wagons drifted into deep places and the water came up in the bed, driving the big fat corn-fed girls to the side-boards to cry for help; and the number of little fellows, as they stuck their unkempt heads out from under the cover of many colors, looked like eagles’-nests floating on the water. The old he-Arkansaws, however, stayed by the teams, and one by one they wound up on the bank. When they were all safely landed, it was amusing to see the old fellows going around their wagons as though looking if any were missing, while the little ones jumped out in the sand and sported around in the sun like little wet dogs.

We then moved on, and the next day camped at the edge of a pretty forest. The following notice was stuck up on a tree: “Warning! Three hundred Indians in this vicinity.” We kept a sharp lookout; and though we saw some of them, we had no trouble.

We were now traveling on the old California emigrant-road; and every few miles we would find stones or boards stuck up at the road-side with almost obliterated inscriptions of “Dora Sires, killed by Indians,” or, died of fever, etc., etc.,—some of the dates being as far back as 1850. We chatted with several old Forty-niners in our rounds, and they told us many interesting incidents in their journey through the wide, wild regions. They say they used to go in large companies for their protection against savages and wild beasts. And to maintain order among themselves, they took their judges and lawyers along, and summary justice was meted out to the offenders as they went along. Sometimes the sentence was death; and in this case the prisoner dangled from the limb of a tree by the road-side.

Passing along we came to Evanston, a little town on the Union Pacific Railroad, and near the Utah line. Here we entered Echo Canon, down through which ran the railway—in fact this being the only way the insurmountable heights can be crossed. This canon is far noted for its grandeur, which in no case has been exaggerated. After we had gone down into it a few miles, we found the walls almost perpendicular, and from eight hundred to one thousand feet high; and the great eagles that flew from crag to crag above our heads looked as small as swallows. Upon speaking here the volume was greatly increased, and an ordinary conversation echoed far down the canon. Hence the name, “Echo Canon.” There is a little stream running in at the mouth of the canon, and being fed all the way down by springs that roll their waters from the cliffs above, it increases to quite a creek. At some places the canon is very narrow, and the stream taking up nearly the whole way, the rail and wagon roads are forced to wind along the side of the mountains, often several hundred feet above. The road at these places has required a great deal of labor to make it passable, and is so narrow that should a wheel get six inches out of the way, team, wagon and all would roll down the steep side and be dashed to pieces against the crags and pines, and finally thud in the waters far below. There are places all along, a mile or two apart, where teams can pass, and it is the duty of each outfit to keep a guard ahead; but in case outfits do meet, one wagon has to be taken apart to let the other pass. Fierce contests sometimes arise as to who shall undo. At these places look out for the toll.

There are many of these great gulches and canons in the mountains, and much of mountain-travel is done over lofty, dangerous roads. Sometimes the track winds around the mountain several times, and then runs along the crest for several miles; and to look down into the swimming space, the dark, deep passes appear like ways into the center of the earth. I have often—through curiosity—climbed above timber-line upon the side of the mountain, where all was bleak and rocky, and looked down the steep, pine-decked slopes. There are often rocks weighing many tons just hanging on the steep sides, and can be pried loose with little effort; and it is amusing to start them down the mountain-side and see them mow the pines as though they were straw, leaving a swath like a reaper, and thudding heavily in the grassy hollows below. At lonely places in some of the roads that run through dark, deep canons, there are bridges built over streams and gorges by private individuals, who live in little forts by the way and extort the most exorbitant rates for crossing over. They are always well armed, and travelers are forced to pay; for there is no way to get around, and to travel back over the steep, rocky road they can not think of. There is, however, once in a while a person who understands the mountain tricks; and when they come this way there are some lively times in the narrow passes; and doubtless many a man has sent up his soul from the rifts among the rocks by these lonely mountain-bridges.

All persons en route for the Pacific by way of the Union Pacific should keep a sharp lookout for Echo Canon and view its grandeur, as the train winds slowly down between its towering walls.

Coming to Echo City, a little mining-town in the canon, we branched off up Weber Canon, then up Silver Creek Canon toward Park City, where the Ontario Mine, the largest and richest silver-mine in Utah, is situated. When we were yet twelve miles off, the stream that comes down from the mines through the canon was so impregnated with rubbish from the mines and quartz-mill, as to be unfit for use and to have a silver cast. Hence the name, “Silver Creek.” Winding up the steep, rough canon, we at length came to Park City,—which is but a few little log and board shanties stuck among the rocks against the mountain,—and learned that it was just a half mile up to the main mine. The way was up a gorge that was so steep and rough as to be almost inaccessible; and when we arrived we were tired and our team was well jaded. We did not like to leave them below. Here stood a large frame building; and in this the shaft was sunk. The shaft is about six feet square, and there was a large engine to work the windlass to let the miners up and down to and from work, and also to haul up the quartz. We found the superintendent to be a very clever gentleman; and he promised us that if we would wait till noon, when the miners had gone to dinner, he would let us down the shaft. This we gladly assented to, and we were accordingly let down into the bowels of the earth, five hundred feet. Here we found several chambers branching out, each high as a man’s head, and ten or twelve feet square. Four large engines were standing here for the purpose of pumping out the water should a vein be struck. Engineers stand ready at their posts; for they say water often bursts in the mine in such quantities as to cut off the escape of the miners should there be no pumps. This, then, is what is called flooding the mines. The metal is in hard rocks, called quartz; and these rocks run in veins through the earth, usually two or three feet square. Sometimes the veins run near the surface, and at other times, as in this case, far below. Old experienced miners can generally tell when there is metal below. The ceiling is very heavily timbered up, and torches were hung all around. The miners have torches fixed on their caps. The leads in this step had run out, but there was another shaft running down still a hundred feet deeper, where the miners were working; but we were not permitted to go there. After the foreman had shown us all around, he gave each of us a piece of quartz as big as a fist, and we all stepped upon the elevator to go up. The light at the top of the shaft looked like a star. All ready, and the foreman pulled a rope which rang a bell up by the engineer, and away we shot up the dark shaft, and soon stood in daylight. There is a saw-mill here, and the engines are fired with wood. There are several other shafts in the surrounding hills; but this is the main one. Four bars of silver, worth two millions of dollars, were sent to the mint at one time from this place.

We now went down to the quartz-mill that stood at the foot of the mountain. This is an immense structure; and the pounding and roaring of the ponderous machinery can be heard a long way off. We were permitted to go all through this mill; and though the dust and noise were very disagreeable, we took a careful look at everything. The quartz is thrown into a huge, long trough, and is mashed by powerful iron stampers that are worked up and down by machinery. It is then thrown in at the top of a big furnace; and at a certain time an iron-cart is run under the furnace-grate, and the red metal is stirred down. It is dumped out close by to cool. This is very hot work; and the men doing it wear sponges over their mouths and nostrils to save their lungs. There is then an apartment with a platform about four feet high upon either side, with steps leading up. Upon either platform there are six tubs, two feet high and four feet in diameter. A small stream of water runs from pipes into each tub, in which some kind of machinery whirls round. The dust, as it comes from the furnace, is thrown into these tubs, and the clean metal comes out below, looking like quicksilver, and floats in pans upon a strong fluid solution. When the pans are full it is skimmed off, and then melted and run into bars. This process of melting is called smelting.

There are different kinds of mines. The quartz-mine, already spoken of, where the metal, like fine sand, is mixed all through hard rock; the placer-mine, where the metal is found among gravel and sand; and the sluice-mine, where the metal is in the bed and on the banks of a stream. Of course, some are very rich, while others are so poor that it does not pay to work them.