A trip to California in 1853

by Washington Bailey

While near Bear River, James Bailey and John Teril were driving a cow whose feet were so worn that she could not keep up with the rest of the drove. The boys would drive her along slowly and arrive late in the evening at the camp. She was a big red cow and uncle hated to lose her, but one evening she laid down and the boys could not whip her up and they had to come to camp without her. The next morning uncle sent Jim and I after her. As we came in sight of her, an awful sight came to our view. A pack of wolves were around her, snarling and gnashing on all sides. The cow was making a desperate struggle to keep off the ravenous wolves. When we saw the condition, we rode as fast as we could and the wolves took to the tall grass. We found the hind quarter of the cow bleeding and in some places the flesh was stripped off to the bone. There was nothing to do but to put her out of her misery, which I did with a shot from my gun.

Jim held my horse and I went near enough to the grass to shoot at them as they ventured out of the grass. I could not tell whether I killed any of them or not as they would leap back in the grass. I had in mind to go nearer to the grass to see the result of my shots, when Jim called to me and said, "Wash, come quick. Get on your horse, the grass is alive with them."

When I got on my horse, I could see on both sides of the trail the grass all in motion with the cat like movements of the wolves. We could not see them, but the waving grass showed that it was full of them. We put spurs to our horses and when we got to a safe distance, we stopped and looked back. The wolves had come out of the grass and were pilled upon the cow, resembling a small hay stack.

One day soon after this, when we had made a noon stop, an Indian chief, who could talk our language, told us that his men, while hunting, had found a white man who was nearly starved to death, and that he had carried him to his lodge. Uncle and some more of the men went with him to see if he was strong enough to be taken along. They found him too weak to be moved. After a council between uncle and the chief, it was decided to leave him there and the chief promised to look after him and when he was strong enough, that he would put him on a pony and send him to Salt Lake City. I believe the man was left in good hands and that the chief was a man of his word.

We were now coming to the desert country of Nevada and our cattle had been without water for a day, when we came to what is known as Poison Water. To get across this little stream, we put the cattle in bunches of twelve and whipped them across, not letting them stop to drink. We got all of our stock across without being poisoned. After we got across, on the side of the hill, we saw the awful effects of the poison water, as there were hundreds of dead cattle and rods at a time, we could step on dead cattle without stepping on the ground.

After we got back on the Freemont and Carson route and were making for the headwaters of the Humbolt River, we found some fair grass land for the stock. We followed the Humbolt River for many miles until we came to the Humbolt Sink. At first it was as smooth as a rock for some distance, but later we dropped off into sand and it was the worst travelling I ever saw. The sand was so light and fine, that one foot would go down until I would set the other foot on top of the sand and pull that foot out, before I could step one foot ahead of the other. It was about the same sort of motion and as slow as treading water. We were three days and nights crossing that desert.

After getting across this desert stretch, we came to the banks of the Carson River, which we were to follow for many miles to the borders of California. When we reached Carson River, we came to a trader's pound, constructed of wagon tires and log chains. It was about the size of an ordinary city lot. There were tires lengthwise and crosswise, hind wheel tires, front wheel tires and log chains, bound together in all kinds of shapes. There were tons of steel in that fence. We came across another pound on the Carson River, near the Sierra Nevada Mountains, built of logs. The logs were 100 feet or over in length and had notches cut in them. These logs were placed in two rows and were crossed by small logs resting in the notches. It was built high enough so that stock could not jump over.

One night when we were afraid the Indians would come in on us, a double guard was put on duty. Four men stood guard in the fore part of the night and four in the after part. The eight men to do duty were all the men in my mess. Uncle said that the bacon was getting low and that he wanted some one of our mess, to get up early and help kill a beef. I told him to have some of the men in the other mess to help, as we would be on guard duty all night. Uncle said, "All right."

The men of my mess had killed all the beeves and mutton up to that time. We did not care, nor did we think much about it, as one of our men was a butcher. The next morning uncle called for some one to get up and help him kill a beef. He called the second and third time, and no one got up and he said, "If no one will get up and help, you will do without meat."

Two of the men in my mess said, "If the other fellows will not help, we will."