Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains / An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far West

by William F. Drannan

We were treated with the greatest respect while at this place, and were asked many questions by the other guests relative to the Modoc war, the capturing of Captain Jack, etc., and the following morning quite an article came out in the Chronicle concerning George Jones and myself relative to the position we held in the Modoc war.

We remained there until the last day of December, on which day we started again on our journey for Arizona, via Salinas, Santa Barbara and Los Angeles. Here we lay over and let our horses rest four days, after which we proceeded on our journey via San Diego, which at that time was a very small place. From there we struck for the Colorado river and followed down the river to Fort Yuma.

This route we took in order to avoid crossing any of those sand deserts. We were about five weeks making the trip, and reached Fort Yuma without any accident or mishap whatever, and learned that the Indians were worse in Arizona than when we left them several years before, as they were most all armed with rifles, instead of bows and arrows, and many of them had pistols.

Lieut. Jackson told me he had lost more men the last year out than in any other two seasons since he had been in Arizona. He had received orders to take four hundred cavalrymen and one hundred infantrymen and go into the mountains and follow the Indians from place to place the coming season. The Lieutenant told me that there had been a settlement started the last year about ninety miles from the line of Arizona and Sonora, Mexico, and they were not only troubled with the Indians, but the Mexicans also came in there and stole their stock and run it across the line.

Gen. Crook was still in charge of the command, and wanted me to accompany Lieut. Jackson, saying: "I do not expect you to do any hard service yourself, but want you to take charge of the scout force and handle it to suit yourself."

If my memory serves me right, it was in the latter part of March, 1875, when we made the start for the mountains. For the first hundred miles our supplies were hauled on wagons, but the balance of the way they had to be packed on animals.

On our way out we passed near Salt River Valley, that being settled up now with Americans. I started to ride out to the settlement to ascertain something of the nature of the depredations committed there lately. I dressed in teamster's clothing and tied a pair of blankets behind my saddle before starting to the settlement. It was late in the evening, just about sunset, and I was riding leisurely along, being within six or seven miles of the settlement, when suddenly I came upon three Mexicans, just cooking supper. They saw me as quick as I saw them, and I thought I was in for it. I was too near them to attempt to get away, so all that I could do was to make the best I could of it, take my chances and trust to luck. When I rode up I spoke to them in my own language and one big burley looking Mexican said: "No indetenda English," meaning I don't understand English. They then asked me in their tongue if I spoke Spanish, which I understood as well as they did, but I shook my head as if I could not understand a word they said.

I dismounted, untied the blankets from behind my saddle, threw them down near the fire on which they were cooking supper, but did not unsaddle my mare. I was riding Black Bess, and one of them got up and walked around her and examined her closely, and when he returned to the fire he said: "Esta ismo muya wano cavia," meaning that is a good horse. Another one in the crowd said he had in his pocket just ten pairs of ears that he had taken from the heads of Yankees, and this would make the eleventh pair. Now I thought my time had come, but I had been in tight places before and had always managed in some way to get out.

While it looked very blue, still I made up my mind that when it came to the worst I would get at least one or two of them while they were doing me up. I did not pretend to pay any attention to their conversation, yet at the same time I could understand all that was uttered by them. I learned that there were ten in the gang, and the other seven had gone that night to the settlement for the purpose of stealing horses, and were liable to return at any time. While I was lying there on my blankets I heard them lay their plans to kill me in case I went to sleep, or if I got up and started to my horse they were to shoot me before I got away. Now the reader can rest assured that this was getting to be a serious affair with me, for I knew that these Mexicans could handle a pistol with good success, while they are as a rule experts with a knife, the latter being a Mexican stand-by. This was a little the closest place that I had ever been in. If I attempted to leave they would kill me as sure as I made the start; if I stayed there until the other seven returned, then I would not have a ghost of a show for my life.

I laid there by the fire as though I was worn out entirely, listening to their talk, and more than once heard the big rough- looking Mexican boast of a pair of Yankee ears that he would take from my head.