The Awakening of the Desert

by Julius Charles Birge

The Iron Brigade had earned its name through the valor and inflexible courage of its men on many battle-fields, and its Second Wisconsin Regiment had borne an honorable part in its achievement.

Thus, for the first time since they had met in conflict on the battle-fields of Virginia, those veterans again confronted each other. True, the war was over, but it had left its bitterness. Nevertheless, like other brave men, they were impelled to respect the soldiers on the opposing side, whose deeds had been as valorous as those of any heroes immortalized in poetry and song. Until late that night, by the peaceful camp fire on the banks of Bear River, the boys rehearsed the thrilling events in which they had participated in the effort to shed each other's blood.

As would naturally be supposed, Captain Whitmore, as the opportunity presented itself, gave me from time to time the story of his experience thus far during his trip. One event, the particulars of which were confirmed by his men, seemed to be so interesting that I asked him to describe it again to another party of travelers at our night's camp. It appears that one afternoon his ox train was slowly crawling along near the north slope of a low range of hills west of Julesburg. A family of emigrants from Illinois consisting of a man, his wife, a grown son and a daughter about eighteen years of age, and a couple of assistants, had accompanied the train from the last military post. As these emigrants had horse teams, which travel somewhat faster than oxen, they were accustomed to driving half a mile or more in advance of the big train, although they had been warned of the hazard; but there they were on that fatal day to receive unaided the brutal raid of a band of Indians which swooped down from the hills. John Wilson on horseback and Mr. Stone of Iowa on foot were out in opposite directions for a hunt. Simultaneously with the attack on the emigrant's wagons, Wilson was seen racing down a valley toward the train pushing his horse to the top of its speed, and in close pursuit was a band of mounted savages yelling like demons. At the same moment Mr. Stone, who was in full view not a mile distant, became the object of an attack from still another detachment of warriors also on horse-back. The train was corralled in a circle for defense as speedily as possible. In the meantime Stone displayed marvelous tact and coolness. He was armed with a Henry repeating rifle loaded with sixteen cartridges, and, as was the usual custom with all hunters, he also carried in addition a case of loaded cartridges. On discovering the rapid approach of the savages he hastened to the top of a little mound that was near by and dropped upon his face. Pursuing their usual tactics the Indians in single file rode swiftly in a circle round and round the apparently doomed Iowan, gradually approaching their victim, who would soon be within range of their arrows. Stone remained quiet for a few moments until his enemies, filing rapidly by the line of his aim as they passed, were within fairly safe range, and then his rifle, directed with careful precision, opened up a series of discharges such as they probably had never before seen, for the Henry was a newly invented weapon and the savages doubtless intended to close in as soon as the rifle should be discharged. In Stone's first series of shots he emptied three saddles of their riders and wounded two horses. While the savages then swung outward for a moment, time was given him to refill the chamber of his rifle with fresh cartridges when at once he renewed his defensive tactics, with results that were startling. The Indians who were still in action seemed to be perplexed by the strange, persistent weapon that was turned upon them, and slowly withdrew. Stone retreated toward the train and was soon under cover of its rifles. The emigrant's party fared badly. All were slaughtered except the young girl, who was captured alive and was taken off with the horses and the plunder from the wagons. I learned later that she remained in captivity until the following spring, when she was restored to the military and thence transported to her former home.

Wilson reached a point where his exhausted horse, which had fully shared in the panic, fell prostrate to the ground and never again rose to its feet. The train, now well fortified and defended, escaped further loss.

It may be remembered, as was narrated in another chapter, that in the early days of our expedition and away back in the little village of Churchville, Iowa, a young girl disguised in boy's apparel succeeded in joining the train and became an assistant to the man and his wife who were the cooks for the outfit. After our little party proceeded in advance of the big train from Nebraska City we received no definite tidings concerning its progress until the meeting near Bridger, which has just been described. It was therefore a great surprise, on now again reaching the train, to learn that the girl had thus far shared the hardships and perils of the entire journey. What would lead a young, apparently modest, and prepossessing country maid to embark on a long trip with a body of strangers destined to a far away Mormon town in the mountains? Before being permitted to proceed from Nebraska City, it appears that she gave out some statements concerning her history. From these it transpired that she was an orphan about nineteen years of age. She had a lover, who, she confidently believed, was in Salt Lake valley. It seemed to be the old story of a trustful, confiding girl and possibly a recreant wooer, in whom she still had unbounded faith. She was intelligent for one of her years and was apparently sincere and thoroughly in earnest.

"Yes, he is right there in the valley, and he does not know that I am going to meet him," she said. But, young girl, there are hundreds of canyons and branch canyons reaching out from the valleys around Salt Lake basin. Many of them are seldom trodden. Some, difficult of access, invite the adventurer to their remotest nooks, where the fortune-hunter would seek for gold or silver. How will you find him?

"Hope is a lover's staff," and on that frail support her future rested. She had come to be known to the boys with the train, many of whom had been soldiers, as the child of the regiment.

We well remember how she then appeared as she was about to enter practically alone into the turbulent life of the little city of Salt Lake, for it must be understood that the train men must there separate, and while she might receive some assistance, she must fight her own battles.

If any old resident of Churchville, Iowa, knew a bright, handsome young girl of medium height with dark hair and big dark eyes who in the spring of sixty-six suddenly disappeared from that village he may get this little glimpse of her history. Her real name was always withheld. The name by which she was known to our boys would have no significance to her former acquaintances. I never saw her again after the train reached the city. She suddenly vanished in the whirlpool of western life.

It was reported that a young girl answering the description of our whilom ward was one morning seen riding alone on horse-back up City Creek canyon, to which valley hundreds of men had that year been attracted by rumors of gold discoveries. And so must end a tale half-told.