CAPTURED BY INDIANS.
Cheyenne was at length left behind, and, with the object of securing companionship in my journey across Wyoming and Utah, I made the acquaintance of two herders—rough men and plain of speech, but apparently reliable and trustworthy. During the few days spent with these pioneers of the Plains, I learned but little of their past lives, yet I was thoroughly satisfied from the first that they would prove invaluable guides in my otherwise lonely ride over the Rockies.
My new companions, Israel Gordon and a Mexican with unpronounceable name, were on their way to Salt Lake City with a few mustangs and Indian ponies, and we at once arranged to journey together as far as our respective routes carried us.
On our first day out from Cheyenne we were much favored, having a clear sky and a southwest wind, which tempered pleasantly the usual chilliness of the season. A ride of thirty-three miles on an up-hill road brought us to Sherman, the highest point touched in the Rocky Mountains by the Union Pacific Railway. Here we halted for the night, had supper, and slept under our blankets in the open air.
After a light breakfast the following morning, November first, we continued our journey along the line of the Union Pacific. Still favored with fine weather and our mustangs being in excellent condition, good progress was noted in the march westward. I had now become quite well acquainted with my new-made friends, and, as our ponies shook the dust of many miles from their feet, we talked of the strange region through which we were passing, and of the routes which led to objective points beyond the mountains. During these conversations I learned that Gordon was born in Vermont, and lived in that State until the close of the Civil War, when he emigrated to Nebraska, and later to Wyoming, where for several years he led a wandering life among the hunters and cow-boys of the Far West. My other companion told me that he began life in New Mexico, and at the age of twenty-one drifted into Colorado, from which Territory he migrated to Cheyenne, in 1867. Both men were robust, strong of limb, and thoroughly accustomed to the habits and practices of the mixed population of the Plains.
As the reader may have observed, I have undertaken from the outset in this chapter to give some idea of the life and habits of my fellow-travelers, for, as will be discovered on another page, they were destined to share with me the most trying ordeal of my journey from Ocean to Ocean.
CAPTURED BY INDIANS.
On reaching a point about a mile east of Skull Rocks, on the Laramie Plains, we were surprised to find ourselves confronted by a band of Indians—thirteen in number. This caused no uneasiness at first, as Indians are often seen on these Plains. We soon discovered, however, that they were on no friendly errand, and, upon a nearer approach, the herders pronounced them a raiding party of Arrapahoes. They were evidently in pursuit of plunder, were decked in war-paint, and as soon as we came in range of their rifles sounded the war-whoop and bore down upon us, in a manner that betokened anything but a peaceful visit, and left no doubt in our minds as to the motive of their attack.
The Arrapahoes were at this time the friends and allies of the Sioux, and the chief objects of their raid were doubtless revenge for white men and horses for their warriors, who were then rendezvoused in the Black Hills.