The Pawnees, the Sioux, and the Arapahoes, amazed and awe-struck at their numbers, fled at their approach, but the less easily cowed enemies of famine and pestilence thinned their ranks. Still undaunted, the survivors, leaving the dead bodies of their comrades a prey to the wild beasts of the wilderness, pressed on, and, the Rocky Mountains left behind, they swarmed into the valley of Humboldt’s River, watering the western half of the newly-formed State of Utah. Many were here obliged to halt for want of fodder for their cattle or food for themselves; and it is related that some of the adventurers, in their eager lust to be the first to arrive in the new El Dorado, set fire to the meadows of dry grass to hinder the progress of those behind them.
On the shores of the Humboldt River a separation took place in the ranks of those still able to proceed, some making for the head of the Sacramento Valley, others choosing the better route to the American fork of the Sacramento River. Of the former, nearly all perished before reaching their destination; of the latter, many were rescued by the noble heroism of parties sent out from California to their relief. Enough of the original thirty thousand survived to fill the hitherto desolate valley of the new south-western state with life. Every ensuing spring brought new comers; the little settlement of Yerba Buena became the port of San Francisco, which, from “a scattering town of tent and canvas houses,” grew in four short months to a populous city, “displaying,” to quote the words of Bayard Taylor, “street after street of well-built edifices, filled with an active and enterprising people, and exhibiting every mark of permanent commercial prosperity;” while on every stream clustered the huts of miners, and from every sheltered nook rose the smoke of the settler’s cabin.
CHAPTER XVI.
AMONG THE APACHES, NAVAJOES, AND ZUNI INDIANS OF TEXAS, ARIZONA, AND NEW MEXICO.
SHORTLY after the great tide of emigration had swept into California, yet another vast tract of country, that now known under the several titles of Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, was annexed to the United States. We have already visited these districts in the company of various early heroes, chiefly missionary; but in the adventures of Cozens, as related in his Marvelous Country, we find so many vivid pictures of the life of the wild inhabitants at the present day, that we propose supplementing our record of discovery by a short abstract of his travels.
Cozens left Merilla, a town of Mexico, in company with three other gentlemen and a few servants, in June, 1858, with the intention of visiting first the copper mines of Santa Rita del Cobre, on the Rio Mimbres, and thence making his way into Arizona. Simple as this programme appears, its execution was fraught with great difficulty, owing to the hostility of the Apaches, a wild native race inhabiting the mountain fastnesses of the north of Spanish America.
The party were riding happily along, after a careful examination of the mines, when the mule ridden by Mr. Laws showed signs of uneasiness. “There are evidently Indians near,” said Cozens; to which Dr. Steck, a second of his companions, replied, “If there are, they know better than to attack their Great Father,” the name by which he was himself called by the savages, among whom he had long been working. He was wrong! A few minutes later, a small cañon, or pass, was entered, with lofty rugged rocks on either side; and when retreat was impossible, the war-whoop of the Apaches suddenly rang out from above, and, echoing from side to side, filled every heart with horror.
A moment’s pause, and then, spurring on their mules, the travelers endeavored to reach the mouth of the cañon, but, alas! even as they gained it, an arrow struck Laws in the back. He fell from the saddle dead, and the mule which had first given warning of the approaching catastrophe galloped riderless away.
The survivors hastily retreated to a neighboring height, determined to sell their lives as dearly as they could; but though they waited an hour, revolvers in hand, for the arrival of the Indians, they were left unmolested. When the evening shadows lessened the risk, they returned to the spot where Laws had fallen, and, placing his corpse before them on their saddles, carried it with them to the summit of the highest hill within reach. There, by the light of the moon, a grave was dug, and poor Laws was buried. No stone or other memorial marked his resting-place, as it would but have served to [♦]provoke the desecration of his remains.