Capt. W. F. Drannan, Chief of Scouts, As Pilot to Emigrant and Government Trains, Across the Plains of the Wild West of Fifty Years Ago

by William F. Drannan

The looks of the man and the pleading way he talked and the faithfulness to his friends in trying to get help to them was more pathetic than any romance could describe it, and could not help but appeal to the heart of any man.

With the light of deep sympathy in his eyes, Uncle Kit stepped forward and, stretching out his hand toward the unfortunate, exclaimed, "Do not worry another moment; your comrades shall have assistance at once, or as soon as I can reach them," and turning to me, Uncle Kit said, "Willie, come outside with me a moment," and when I looked at him after I had followed him, I saw the tears on his cheeks. I had known Kit Carson several years, but this was the first time I had seen him moved to tears. He said, "Willie, my boy, can't you find these men as well as anyone?"

I answered, "Yes, sir; if this man can give me any clue to follow, I will find them in short order, for I have been all over those mountains and through the valley several times, and know the country well."

He said, "Well, I thought you could fill the bill if any one could, Willie; and now go and have three horses saddled, and I will have some grub fixed up, and by that time the man will have finished eating and will be more fit to talk to you."

My horses were soon ready, and I went in to see the man. When I went into the room where he was, I found him lying on a cot, and after I had talked with him a few moments, I decided in my mind he had left his comrades not far from where the city of Trinidad now stands. He gave me the description of nearly all the mountains and streams he had crossed on his way to the Fort after he had left his friends, and I thought if he had been correct in his description of his route I could find the suffering men without much difficulty. When I went out to where the horses were waiting for me, I found Uncle Kit had packed about forty pounds of grub on one of the horses. Col. Bent handed me a pint flask of whiskey, saying, "Now, if these men are alive when you find them, give them a small quantity of this, but be very careful not to give them too much at a time, and the same care must be taken in giving them food."

As I was starting, Uncle Kit said, "Now, Willie, if you are successful in finding the men, I hope to hear from you in two or three weeks. Jim and I will leave here today for Taos, and you will find us there when you come home," and he gave me his hand, and with a lingering pressure said, "Goodbye, and God speed you on your errand of mercy, my boy."

And I mounted my horse and left the Fort, and was off on my long, lonely journey over trackless prairies and through mountain passes that had perhaps never been trodden by a white man beforehand. No one can realize how lonely this journey was. I did not think much about it myself until I made my camp the first night. After I had staked out my horses and built a fire, I began to realize what a dreadful state the lost men must be in, for if I was so hungry, who had eaten a good meal at noon, what must they be suffering who had had nothing to eat in five days? The thoughts of the suffering men whom I hoped to rescue from death kept me awake most of the night, and I fully decided that this was the last time I would try to sleep until I knew whether they were living or dead. I was up with the dawn the next morning, and on the way, and I thought if I did not meet with any bad luck to detain me I would be in the vicinity of the men I sought by night.

From this time out I knew I must be very careful to look for signs of the lost men, as hunger might drive them to leave the place where their comrade had directed me to look for them. When I was a little west of where the city of Waltzingburge now stands, and the darkness was beginning to close down, I saw the glimmer of a little fire off to the right, at what looked about a half mile from me. I thought it might be an Indian camp and directed my course that way, but when I was within sight of it and was within a hundred yards or so of the fire, I could not see a soul stirring around it, but I kept on up to the fire, and suddenly my horse came near stepping on a man who lay on the ground with bare feet and nothing under or over him. I sprang from my horse and bent over him and spoke to him, but he did not answer or move. I then took hold of his shoulder and shook him gently, and he seemed to rouse up a little. I said, "What are you laying here for?" and he murmured in a voice so weak I had to bend my ear close to him to hear, "I have laid down to die."'

I pulled the flask of whiskey from my pocket and raised him on my arm and wet his lips with a few drops of the whiskey. I repeated this several times, as he seemed to have relapsed into unconsciousness, and I was afraid I was too late to save him or bring him back to consciousness.

I laid him down and built the fire anew and unpacked my horse and got my blankets and made a pallet and lifted him on it. Lifting him seemed to revive him, and the firelight showed me that he had opened his eyes, and he put his hand on his stomach and whispered, "Oh, how hungry I am."