Life of a Pioneer: Being the Autobiography of James S. Brown

by James S. Brown

The date of our start from Pleasant Valley I cannot now recall, further than that it was between the 25th of June and the 1st of July. We made slow progress, for the road was very rough. About six of us rode ahead, and looked out and marked the route. We would go ahead half the day, and then return to meet the train, often finding them camped, the men working the road, cutting the timber, rolling rock, and digging dugways, or mending wagons. Sometimes we had to lay over a day or two to make the road passable.

Thus we pushed forward on our journey till we came to a place we called Tragedy Springs, for near a beautiful spring at this place we found the remains of the three brethren who had preceded us, they having been murdered by Indians, and buried in a shallow grave. We first found bloody arrows, then stones with blood on them, then the nude bodies, partly uncovered; these were recognized by Daniel Allen's purse of gold near by. Our feelings cannot be described through the medium of the pen, therefore I must leave these to the reader's imagination. We built a wall of rough rock around the grave, then covered it with flat stones to protect the bodies from wild beasts. This was the best we could do, for the bodies were so decomposed that we could not do more. The names of the deceased and manner of death, with proper dates, were cut in a large tree that stood near by.

The night we came to Tragedy Springs was very dark, and our camp being in a dense forest of large trees, the darkness was intensified. Guards were at their posts around stock and camp, when suddenly, from some cause we never knew, the stock stampeded. This raised a great excitement, and before it subsided one of our cannon was discharged; as it belched forth its stream of fire, and the sound of the explosion echoed in forest and hills, the animals were stampeded still worse, only a few horses that had been securely tied remaining. We were compelled to lay by for two days to get things together, but we finally did so, recovering all our stock.

We made another start, going to a place we called Leek Springs, because of there being so many leeks growing wild. We had to stop over and mark our way among rocky ridges. Thence we moved on, musket in one hand, or in a handy place to the teamster, with his goad or whip in the other hand, the train moving in close order and constantly on the alert for an attack by man or beast.

We ascended a very high spur of the Sierra Nevada range, on the south side. When we reached the summit the wind blew as if it were the middle of November. As we crossed over we came to a large snowdrift; on the north side of the mountain our wagons rolled over the snow as if on marble pavement, but when we came to where the sun had shone in the latter part of the day, our wagons went down to the hub, and four were capsized and some of them badly broken. The others succeeded in reaching the bottom in safety. It took us till after dark to pick up the pieces and get them together to be ready to start the next morning.

We all gathered around the campfire and discussed the subject of standing guard, when the writer remarked that there was no need of guards—that he would agree to take care of all the Indians that would come around that night, for it was so cold and disagreeable that he supposed no human being would come there from choice. Just then someone inquired what an object on a rock was. Some said it was an owl, others that it was an Indian. Two or three of us took our guns and sallied forth to settle the dispute finding to our surprise two Indians with feathered headdresses on, and with long bows, and quivers full of arrows. They were within easy bowshot of us. The party had the laugh on the writer for once.

We took the Indians prisoners, disarmed them, and prepared a place for them to sleep, after giving them their supper. The writer was one called on to guard them, and he promptly complied. The Indians made good company, though they were very nervous, and we had to threaten them frequently to keep them from making a break for liberty. At midnight the guards were changed, and at dawn we made ready to descend to the camp below, arriving there just as the Indians moved off; we had released our prisoners. The Indians soon began to come in from every quarter, all armed. We moved in close order, every man well armed. The savages numbered three to our one; they flanked us and we could see them on every hand, in threatening attitude. In this situation we had to chop and roll logs out of the way, move rock, and make dugways, lifting at and holding wagons to keep them from turning over. Consequently, our progress was slow, and the journey very hazardous. Finally, when we had worked our way carefully along the difficult route, passing over the summit of the great Sierras, which divide the waters of the great deserts from those which flow to the Pacific Ocean, the threatening red men slunk out of sight, and we found a rough camping place, where we lay all night upon our arms, but nothing came to alarm us.

We continued down the canyon and came to a more open country, camping by a river bend where there was good feed, water, and fuel. We had begun to feel more safe from the red men, yet that night they stole in past our guards and took some of our saddle horses which were tied within four or five rods of our wagons. The Indians escaped, and were detected only by our guards hearing them cross the river; this was about 4 a.m. Early in the morning we learned more definitely our loss, and eight or ten of us gave pursuit, following the trail across a sandy country and over the foothills, ultimately succeeding in the recovery of all our horses but one, and for that we captured an Indian pony that had the distemper, as we discovered after it had been turned into our herd. That was one of the hardest day's rides that the writer remembers in all his experiences, for we put our horses through all they could live for. Every moment we were liable to ambush, for the Indians divided into three parties and we did the same. One of our party supposed he had killed an Indian, or certainly wounded him, just as he entered into the thick brush.

It was late the next day when we resumed our journey, and that night we camped in Carson Valley, where we looked on an extensive plain or desert. Being unable to discern any evidences of water, we turned to the north, just under the base of the mountains, traveling over a very hard route, until we came to the Truckee River, where we entered the old emigrant road. We followed that road till we came to the sink of the Humboldt, then called St. Mary's River. The distance was said to be forty-five miles; be that as it may, we were twenty-four hours covering it, and I do not think we had any rest or sleep during the whole trip.

We passed the wonderful Hot or Steamboat Springs. I remember seeing a dog run up to one of them as if to lap the water, and as he did so his feet slipped into the edge of the pool. He was so surprised at the heat that he gave one yelp of pain and jumped into the middle of the spring, stretched out his legs, and never gave another kick. In a very short time the hair was all scalded off him. The incident reminded me of the story of a Dutchman who, when he came to a hot spring, ordered his teamster to drive on, as hell could not be more than a mile away. We did not feel to blame the Dutchman, if the springs were like this; for, from the surroundings, hades did not appear to be far off, and we passed on without any desire to linger about the dreadful place. It was about 4 a.m. when, as we approached the Humboldt River, our horses and cattle hoisted their heads, began to sniff, and broke into a trot; from that they started into a run, and we had enough to do to keep up with them till they reached the water.