Recollections of a Pioneer

by J. W. Gibson

[CHAPTER IV.]
Back Across the Plains.

It was now close to the first of August, 1851. We were camped at the western side of the fifty-mile desert which gave us so much trouble on our way over. We had packed provisions and equipment sufficient only to take us across the Sierra Nevada Mountains and back. We always allowed for emergency and put in plenty. The question now was whether we were well enough equipped to start on a long journey back across the plains. We made an inventory of our stock of provisions and supplies, and decided that we could make it. Brother William and Wilson took only a small quantity of supplies with them on their return journey. They were going into a country where plenty was to be found, and if they ran low, it would make no great difference. With us it was different. We had no assurances that we could get supplies of any kind at any point on the journey, at least not until we reached the outposts near St. Joseph.

As already related, we had carried our supplies from home on pack mules. We had no wagons or oxen with us and had to arrange to make the entire journey carrying our provisions and camp equipment on the mules.

After getting everything ready we bade goodby to brother William and Wilson, and started early in the morning. We entered at once upon the fifty-mile desert and traveled that day and all the following night. Our mules made better progress than the ox teams, and we reached the Carson Sink a little after daylight where we found water. We also fell in with four men who said they had started to Salt Lake, but had heard from the passing emigrants that the Indians were on the war path ahead and were afraid to go any farther alone and were waiting for company. We had heard the same story, so concluded their excuse for being there was a good one and that they had no designs upon unwary emigrants. We sized them all up and decided to take them into our company. Three of them were brothers whose names were Kilgore. The fourth was a German whose name I have forgotten. They all lived in Iowa. They seemed very much frightened at the idea of going on, and suggested that we wait for further reinforcements. We told them we had no time to waste and that we were going on and they could join us if they wanted to. They finally consented, rigged up their outfit and made ready. We traveled up the Humboldt River over the old road until we reached the head waters of that stream. There were three roads open to us from this point. One to Fort Hall on Snake River, a middle road which had been blazed since we came over, called Hedgepeth's cut-off, and the South road to Salt Lake. We took the Salt Lake road, though it was new to all of us. We struck Bear River, about one hundred and fifty miles from Salt Lake, crossed it and traveled down the East side to Weaverville and then on to Ogden. Here we rested a few days and had our mules and horses shod.

The day after we camped, Brigham Young paid us a visit. He asked us many questions, but we gave him little satisfaction. We had ten thousand dollars in gold with us and hadn't any confidence in the Mormons, so we kept close watch. A day or two after this, we took our mules and started to Salt Lake City. About twenty miles out on our journey we met a large vehicle drawn by eight big white horses, a driver on top, and a great many women and one man inside. I recognized the man as Brigham Young, but said nothing. A little farther on we overtook a man in the road and I asked him who the man and all the women were that we had met back on the road. He said it was Brigham Young and twenty of his wives.

We made a short stop at Salt Lake. There seemed to be but one road out of the valley in which the city is situated and that led us south about ten miles, thence east through a steep, rough canyon. It was at the mouth of that canyon where the Mormons later built the wall to resist the government soldiers. The road through the canyon led us finally to the top of a high range of mountains. Passing over this and down the eastern slope, we came to Ft. Bridger on Black Fork of Green River. We followed this stream down to the main prong of Black River and went thence northeasterly to Green River, thence up a prong of that river until we reached the divide at South Pass. Here, after four hundred miles over a strange road and over wild and rugged mountains and deserts, we came again to the Oregon Trail, and found a familiar road.

This portion of the road is now familiar also to the reader. It led down Sweetwater, past Independence Rock and Devil's Gate to North Platte River. Just after we crossed the North Platte, we stopped for dinner. We had eaten our meal and were resting when we saw what appeared to be a band of Indian ponies back across the river and about a mile away. We could not tell whether Indians were upon the ponies or not, but there was little doubt in our minds but that there were. We packed our mules hurriedly, saddled our horses, and started on and had made but a short distance when three Indians came running up in our rear on foot. They had dodged out from behind a boulder somewhere along the road. They appeared to be quite friendly. They said "How, How," and pointed to the good grass along the road. By these signs we understood that they wanted us to camp and were recommending the place to us. All this time the ponies were getting closer to us and all doubt that Indians were upon them was removed. When the three saw that we were not going to stop, one of them grabbed the bit of the horse ridden by one of the Kilgore boys and attempted to hold it. Kilgore threw his gun down at the Indian, who loosed his hold and ran back. One of the three during this performance dropped behind and raised a sort of flag. At this the whole band of ponies started towards us and every pony had a red-skin on his back lying close down to the pony's neck. They came galloping as fast as the ponies could carry them and in single file. As they came closer we saw that they were all painted up in war style with black feathers plaited in their hair. There must have been twenty-five or thirty of them, and there were nine of us—five Gibsons, three Kilgores, and the Dutchman. This Dutchman rode in a little cart while the rest of us were on horse-back. We had eight pack mules loaded with our camp equipment and provision, and they had to be taken care of.

We put the pack mules abreast and pushed them directly ahead of us. The first Indians to reach us appeared to be very friendly, as if they could deceive anybody by that old ruse. They said "How, How," and appeared to be very anxious for our welfare. Their purpose in this, it was plain enough to see, was to allow their companions all to come up. When the last of their party caught up they all set up a great yell and made a dash to get between us and our pack mules. Every man in our company drew his navy and each man pointed at a different Indian. We had the drop on them. They had not drawn the guns which some of them had or the bows and arrows which others carried, and the first attempt to draw a weapon meant a dead Indian and they knew it, so they halted and fell back. As soon as they were out of the way we moved up and formed a ring around the pack mules, facing outward. This seemed to please them wonderfully, for they started galloping around us, yelling and going through all manner of ferocious maneuvers, but apparently never getting in a position where they could draw a weapon. As soon as we had surrounded our mules, Zach and Robert slipped off their horses and coupled all the mules together. This would keep them from scattering out. In a moment the boys were back in their saddles and back in the ring facing outward. The Dutchman in his cart was outside of our ring. He was very much agitated for a time for fear he would get cut off from us and be taken by the Indians. He managed to dash in, however, and get right close to our line and stop his horse. This gave him a chance to get out his double barrel shot gun which he carried in the cart and get ready for action.

This milling and yelling, around and around, must have kept up for ten or fifteen minutes. We didn't want to kill any of them, but we didn't propose they should get any advantage of us, and every man was on guard. By and by, Robert and Zach, who faced the road ahead, put spurs to their horses and broke through the ring, Robert turning on the Indians to the right and Zach to the left, each with a navy in each hand and the bridle reins in his mouth. This caused the Indians to break up the milling and hurry to the rear in order to keep their forces together. At the moment when they started back, two of our men put whip to the mules and forced them out through the gap as fast as they could gallop. The rest of us stood firm and steady, holding our guns on the Indians. We held them in this manner until the mules were well out of the way, then turned and galloped after them. We knew all the time that we had the Indians bluffed. They couldn't get any advantage of us and they would not fight in the open. They stood completely still after we left them and continued to watch us as long as we were in sight.

We made good haste that afternoon and traveled late. By 6:00 o'clock we were twenty-five miles away, and after supper we pressed forward until midnight. We counted that this put us a safe distance away, but to make still more certain of our position, we rode off from the trail about a mile to camp. At daylight we were moving again and the next day at noon reached Ft. Laramie. Perhaps this haste and forced marching were all unnecessary, but in dealing with the Indians, it is a good idea to put just as much distance as you can between yourself and them. Ft. Laramie offered us the first real security we had known since we crossed the Continental Divide. The whole territory, especially between Platte River and Ft. Laramie, was infested with the worst bands of Indians then known to emigrants, and many trains had been robbed and the members killed on this portion of the journey.