Buckskin Mose

  CHAPTER V.

  A TEMPEST--THE BRUTE WITH NO RHEUMATIC PITY--AN IMPROMPTU GALLOWS--HANGING A RASCAL--MY STAGE WARDROBE--UNDER WATER WITH A WATER-TIGHT WAGON--THE KEG OF WHISKEY--ITS UNFORESEEN RESULTS--A MOUNTAIN CANNON--NATURAL SODA-WATER--AN INDIAN ATTACK--RAISING MY FIRST HAIR--TAKING A LESSON FROM THE RED MAN--BRITISH CRITICISM--THE VALLEY OF A THOUSAND SPRINGS.

  The rest which had been given the horses partially restored them, and onthe following day the train was again in motion.

  After reaching what is known by the old Emigrants as the last crossingof the Sweet Water, Captain Crim decided to take a road farther norththan the usual one. He had crossed the plains several times before.Knowing that the Sublett's route and Headspath Cut-off, as well as theSalt Lake line of travel, were peculiarly hard upon stock, he determinedthis time, to try a track of his own.

  We therefore followed up the Sweet Water, crossing it repeatedly, and atlength passed the Rocky Mountains. Thence we went to Green River.

  This river presented us with great difficulties to find a place forpassing it. The current is, at all times, swift and strong. On thisoccasion it was greatly swollen, in consequence of the heavy snows ofthe preceding winter, higher in the mountains. After hunting for anavailable ford more than half a day, one was at last discovered, andthe horses were brought over without the slightest loss.

  That night, however, we experienced a fearful storm, or rather ahurricane.

  It was indeed such a tempest as I had never yet experienced. Neither hasit had its parallel since in the whole records of the Storm Bureauestablished in Washington. The rain and hail descended in literal sheetsof water and ice. The camp-fires were extinguished by their fury. Tentswere torn down and the wagons containing our stores were flooded. Thelightning blazed incessantly, and the thunder seemed to roll in onecontinuous peal.

  Luckily for us, it was not of long duration. In some three hours it hadspent its fury. Yet its effects were felt by some of us, for a length oftime. Poor Pigeon especially was taken down by it with a severe attackof inflammatory rheumatism. Since his name was first mentioned, it hasnot again recurred. However, his sickness here forces him upon my noticein connection with another member of our party.

  The next morning, all damage having been repaired, the train was againin motion.

  Having passed the three Tetons, gigantic sentinels projected from themain range of mountains, we followed a little stream which Crimchristened Pine Creek. Beyond this, we unexpectedly came upon a vastbelt of snow, extending through the Wind River Range. With threecompanions, I went over it as far as Salt Creek. It was found to becompletely impassable for the horses, averaging from six to twenty feetin depth.

  After holding a council, Captain Crim decided upon striking directlysouth until we should reach Sublett's Cut-off. Consequently we had toretrace our steps, and encamped some twenty miles down Pine Creek, forthe purpose of doing that class of reconnoitering which is nothing elsethan exploring.

  Here it is, that we have once more to do with Pigeon.

  There was a man who had some interest in a small portion of the stock.For want of a better and less appropriate name, I may as well call himRascall. While delayed in our enforced encampment, some of us wereoccupied in grazing the stock. Others were exploring in every directionfor a means of crossing the belt of snow which hedged us in from ourwesterly route. Rascall had nothing to do. Poor Pigeon was lying in hiswagon, as helpless from rheumatic pain as the train was in presence ofits blockading impediment. Rascall, having no rheumatic pity, tookadvantage of the solitary and forlorn Pigeon, by ordering him out of thewagon. In vain did the poor devil remonstrate with him. He was utterlyunable to move. Rascall determined upon proving this, and being alonewith Pigeon in the camp, tried the common experiment of brutes, bythrashing him in the most unmerciful manner possible.

  Like many other brutes, he did this without counting the possibleconsequences.

  On the return of the boys to the camp, they heard of this from Pigeon,who was, from his harmless good temper, a general if somewhat despisedfavorite. Naturally enough, their contempt was forgotten in their pity.They determined upon a queer revenge for his treatment of poor Pigeon.They, consequently, rigged up an impromptu gallows by joining two wagonpoles together. From this they suspended a full-length portrait of theoffender, although, at first, serious thoughts had been entertained ofsuspending himself.

  It would be needless to say that the likeness was scarcely of sufficientacademic correctness to have justified its limner in claiming anyposition as a portrait-painter.

  Seeing this, in order to avoid any mistakes, with the artist'spermission, I inscribed beneath it "RASCAL," in very unmistakableletters.

  Either the portrait or the name had an immediate effect. Captain Crim,who certainly had an artistic eye for painting or printing, one or both,as well as an unmistakable love of justice, saw it. He immediatelyinquired into the matter, and then visited Pigeon. The poor fellow'sstatement was enough. As has been seen, Crim was not a man of manywords, but of very decisive temper. He expelled Rascall from the camp,and it was only after some four or five days' wandering in its vicinity,and imploring any of us he chanced to meet for pardon, that onconsultation with his boys the Captain finally allowed him to re-enterit.

  At length, a way out of our difficulty was found. Through deep gorgesand canons we reached Lambert Creek, and after following it for somedistance, crossed it, finding ourselves once more in the Green Riverregion. Thence, striking across a lower range of mountains, we came toSublett's Cut-off.

  Shortly after this, above Ham's Fork an accident occurred to one of thewagons, which, although of slight account to the train, was of seriousmoment to myself.

  In passing this stream, the wagon containing, with other property, thewhole of my wardrobe, stage and otherwise, sprung a leak. It should bementioned that wagons for crossing the Plains, are, for obviousreasons, generally made water-tight. Being struck by an undercurrentwhich rendered it impossible to move it rapidly, it foundered with allits contents. Seeing the mishap from the shore, our Captain sung out tothe boys to save whatever of the unlive stock in it they could. However,without waiting for orders, I and Brighton Bill, whose personal propertyhad gone under the water with mine, had both rushed to the scene of ourloss, and entering the stream, were hard at work.

  We remained in that wretched Fork for five hours, fishing out of it, asit seemed, everything but our own property. Necessarily, much besidesthis was lost. The infernal undertow of the stream carried all it couldbear with it, away. Not only had it plundered me of my stage-wardrobe,but of the whole of my wearing apparel, exclusive of that I then stoodupright in. Not even a single shirt was left me. At length, when it wasevident no hope remained of finding it, sulkily angry, wet and chillednot only to the bone, but to my very marrow, I struggled, with thewell-nigh as miserable Bill, to the farther bank. Here we found CaptainCrim awaiting us. At his side, stood a consolatory keg of whiskey, andin his hand was the immortal tin-cup, so lovingly identified with dailylife on the Plains, and the early history of our nation upon the Pacificcoast. He was a sagaciously provident leader. Praiseworthily interestedin our health, he supplied both of us with a liberal cupful of thefortifying elixir. Hungry, as well as cold, for it was now three o'clockin the afternoon, and I had eaten nothing since morning, I forgot myusual prudence, and asked him for another cupful of the inspiring fluid.

  "Do you think you can stand it, Mose?" was his far from unnaturalinquiry.

  The whiskey had not yet sufficient time to put an end to the shiveringproduced by my protracted cold bath. My teeth were actually chatteringin my head, with a castanet accompaniment to my discomfort.

  "Certainly-a-a-a, I can-n-n-n, Cap!"

  "The cup holds a good half-pint."

  "And I have been-n-n-n in the water ha-a-a-lf a day, Captain!"

  "Very well!" he replied, with a commiserating look at mydrowned-rat-like appearance, "you shall have it."

  He very cert
ainly would never have allowed me to soak so much inwardly,had it not been for my thorough outward soaking. Nor, indeed, but for mytribulation under my recent loss, should I have desired such an inwardsoaking. As I swallowed the whiskey, I felt my whole frame bursting intoa tingling and generous glow. However, nothing more is remembered by meuntil the following morning.

  Then I awoke in Captain Crim's tent. I had been stripped to the skin andwrapped in a blanket.

  My clothes, now, alas! my only suit, had been removed from my person byhis orders, and dried at a large fire, whose smouldering embers were inthe last stage of inanition without the tent. They were lying beside me.It was with a somewhat sheepish look, I imagine, that I got into them,for the Captain was already out and about. What blowing up might be instore for me from such a rigid disciplinarian as he was, I couldscarcely imagine.

  As I went, or to speak more truly, sneaked out into the sharp morningair, what was my surprise to hear him say, in a cheery voice:

  "Well, Mose! You are all right now, are you not? To work, my lad! I wishall my boys were like you and Bill! You worked yesterday, like a coupleof heroes."

  It was an agreeable reception, and so widely different from the one Ihad anticipated, that for the moment I forgot my loss. Straighteningmyself up, with a modest disclaimer of his praise, I resolved to keep myintended apology under the lock and key of a silent tongue.

  It was, I think, about noon, some two weeks after this, we reached BearRiver. Following its course until we came to Soda Springs, our camp waspitched for the night, between them and the silenced volcanic craterbeyond.

  This has been so often described, that to do so again would be a wasteof words. But on a hunting trip some ten miles more or less North, Idiscovered another natural curiosity, to which I was the first to callattention. On entering a small valley, I heard a continuous whizzing andgrumbling noise, which was unlike anything I had before listened to.Looking around, I saw in the scarped face of an almost perpendicularmountain a cavity some twenty-five or thirty feet above the level onwhich I was standing. From this cavity came a broad and persistent jetof steam. This evidently caused the sound which had startled me. It wasthe result of volcanic action of some description, although I wasscarcely scientific enough, even in a small way, to reason this out.

  Suddenly, without the slightest note of preparation, a huge ball of hotmud and fragments of stone was projected across the valley from thisopening in the precipice. It was followed by a sharp roar, like thereport from some heavy piece of artillery.

  As I stood watching the orifice from which the jet of steam poured forsome twelve or thirteen minutes, this phenomenon was repeated, and insomething more than an hour I counted some five repetitions of it.

  Farther up the valley, which was about a hundred and fifty yards inwidth, according to a rough guess, I came to another curious phenomenon.Opposite this natural cannon, the valley formed a broad semicircle, andon the extreme side of this was a tolerably large plateau of hard andsandy soil, from the summit of which I heard a singular hissing sound.Hobbling my horse below, I climbed to the summit of this, and mycuriosity was rewarded by the discovery of another freak of Nature. Thesummit of the plateau was surrounded with a number of funnel-shapedapertures, from which water constantly rose and fell again, bubbling andsparkling like the contents of a soda-water bottle after the cork hasbeen removed. The taste of this water, which was warm, was, however,scarcely so agreeable as the temperance beverage to which I havecompared it.

  Slightly behind me, the natural cannon still continued to belch forthits projectiles from the scarp of the rocky fortalice in which they werestored. Here, perhaps, were a number of relief-valves which preventedits destruction by a wider and more devastating explosion.

  There is naturally small marvel that on this day I killed no game. Mytime had been too much occupied in the examination of these singularexhibitions of created oddity, for me to track deer or buffalo, ifindeed any were in the neighborhood.

  For what reason I can scarcely say, the name I gave this place wasDeath's Head Valley. It retains it to the present day.

  Our camp was broken up on the next morning, and we continued, in analmost westerly line, our course. We were advancing into a thicklyinhabited Indian country. From time to time what we believed signalswere given and answered from either side of the train. No Indians were,however, visible.

  It became clear, when we encamped for the night by Raft River, that ifthe natives put in any show at all, it would be a hostile one.

  The result of this was, that after our brief supper was over, CaptainCrim detailed me to make a reconnoissance of the country round ourcamping-place. We had long since begun to employ military terms. Thereconnoissance proved him to have been right. Low and partiallysmothered Indian fires were detected by me, through the smoke risingfrom them, upon every side, and on my report being made, our guards forthe night were doubled.

  Next day, by its events, amply proved the advisability of thisvigilance.

  We had reached the City of Rocks, some seven or eight miles from thepoint at which we had crossed the last-mentioned stream. The advancedguard under me were moving cautiously along, exploring, almost, I hadsaid, every inch of the road, and occasionally throwing a quick andmarvellous glance at the springing spires, stretching battlements,cupolas and towers which bore witness to the plentiful imagination ofthe great Primal Architect and Supreme Master Mason of the earth, whenwe began to discover visible traces of Indian life. Some ten minutesafter, the whole of this strange city of the unliving was literallyblackened by live and threatening red-skins. The word, inappropriate asit may be to their color, must be pardoned. There was, and consequentlyis, no more time to pick phrases than to indulge in any descriptivepower I may possess.

  Giving the alarm, we fell back on the main body of our party.

  Never before had I so much occasion afforded me to admire the naturalnerve and military capacity of our leader, in a position of emergency.

  The wagons of the train were formed in a close circle, with the horseshobbled inside, so as to prevent the chance of a stampede.

  As for ourselves, we were posted under cover of our improvisedfortification, to await the attack, which was not long before it burstupon us.

  These preparations had been as speedily made, as the orders had beenreadily given.

  They did not take the boys more than ten minutes. Nor had we been anytoo rapid in perfecting them.

  A description of the fight would be impossible for me, as I only coulddetail that portion of it in which I was bodily concerned. It may besufficient to say, that the first pitched battle with the red man, inwhich I was concerned, lasted for perhaps some fifteen minutes. Thesavages then seemed to have enough of it, and retired in admirabledisorder. The right term would possibly be this--they ran away.

  Dashing out after them, we followed the flying red-skins for somedistance, and I had the satisfaction of raising my first hair, or in thelanguage of the East, taking my first scalp.

  An Indian, who concealed himself behind a large rock, discharged fourarrows at me almost with the continuous rapidity of the lightning in thetempest we had so recently experienced. But what might be good for thegoose might be equally good for the gander. Rocks were at a fairly largediscount in that city of them. Taking advantage of one of these, Iseized the opportunity afforded me by an unguarded movement of the enemyand dropped him with a bullet through his brain.

  Some three more dead Indians lay scattered round the wagons, while onlyone of our men had received any hurt. He was an Irishman, who hadreceived a shot in the right side. It had been made with a ragged ball,which had torn his flesh frightfully. However, the wound did not provefatal.

  The City of Rocks was now quiet enough, and shortly after Captain Crimgave orders for again starting.

  Very necessarily, we were too fully employed in discussing our firstIndian fight (or more properly perhaps I was, as several of mycompanions had crossed the Plains before) to indulge in a prolongedexamination
of the quaint, natural architecture through which we weremoving.

  On arriving at sundown near Goose Creek, our captain decided upon anextended examination of the country round, before entering the canyon.His reason for this was, that, on two previous occasions, the Indianshad in this locality robbed him of all his horses, leaving him to findhis way to California on foot. Little wisdom exceeds that which istaught us by past misfortune. At least, I may safely swear that I havegenerally found this to be the case.

  Our men were accordingly divided into three parties, of tolerably equalnumbers.

  One had the care of the train and horses. Another had to pass across themountains on the right, and the last, those on the left of the canyon.Crim did me the honor of detailing me in command of the second party,because his past experience had convinced him this was the side fromwhich most danger might be expected, and as he was pleased to observe, I"had not only pluck enough for anything, but plenty of prudence." In thefirst part of this compliment, I completely justify his eulogy. Thesecond portion of it may be subject to more question, especially when myyouth is remembered.

  My party consisted of twenty-eight of the best men connected with thetrain, amongst whom were Brighton Bill.

  Some three miles along the side of the canyon we began to move in regularIndian fashion, singly and as quietly as we could, availing ourselves ofevery cover possible. Neither was this one whit too soon. As we creptover a small hill, we discovered, not more than six hundred yards fromus, a party of red-skins. These were some fifty in number.

  Luckily, perhaps, I had been the first of my party. Dropping as if I hadbeen picked off by a bullet, I motioned my men to imitate me.

  Then, placing my linger on my lips with a warning movement, we begancrawling to the right, behind a number of huge rocks, and managed toadvance to within some two hundred yards of them, without giving themthe slightest alarm. The red devils were watching the movement of thetrain as, below them, it wound slowly up the canyon. More than probably,if they could count the number of boys we had left with it, they werecongratulating themselves on the way, in which they must have supposed,they had thinned us out.

  Raising my rifle I took deliberate aim, in which I was imitated by therest of my party. Each of us had selected his own man.

  The report of my weapon was followed simultaneously almost by the wholeof those of my fellows, ringing out sharply and clearly.

  As the smoke cleared away immediately after, we saw the whole of theIndians, who had not been slain, flying at the top of their speed acrossthe mountain.

  Twenty-three of them were on the ground, dying or dead, of which fivewere undoubtedly white men. Brighton Bill gazed upon the dead bodiesreflectively.

  "You're as good as an Injin, Mose!" he said. "But look 'ere. Wouldn't it'ave been better to give 'em the lead, face to face."

  "D' yer think the skulking beasts would ha' given yer a fair chance?"

  This was said by one of the most silent men, and best shots, who hadenlisted with Captain Crim.

  "That's so, for sartain!" cried one of my boys, with an oath.

  "I jist tell yer, Cap!" said the man who had replied to Brighton Bill,as he kicked over one of the dead bodies in which a ball had perforatedthe skull--probably it was that of the Indian he had drawn a bead on,"this was a darned square bit of Injin cunning. Yer've shown 'em, twocan play their game. I'm proud to sarve under yer."

  Brighton Bill said no more.

  He was evidently thinking profoundly upon the different style in whichmatters were managed in crossing the Plains, to that in which they mighthave been, in case of necessity, in his own country.

  On rejoining the train at the head of the canyon, and reporting theaffair to our Captain, he was pleased to say, I had proved the justiceof what he had said, when he appointed me to the command of the party.The congratulations on my success, however, which I received from mycompanions, were considerably warmer and more gratifying. For sometwenty-four hours, I actually found myself promoted by generalacclamation to the position of a hero. A little pluck and caution countheavily on the Plains.

  Bill, however, did not change his opinions. Although still as warmly asever attached to me, he said on the same evening, while sitting roundour camp-fire:

  "I don't care, Mose! It would 'ave been more square to give 'em thelead, face to face."

  Late on the following day we reached Thousand Spring Valley, where thehead-waters of the Humboldt River take their rise. Here water and gamewere good and abundant, and the train remained two days to rest thestock, while I and some others scoured the adjacent country in quest offresh meat.

  A lovelier spot than this valley, it would, perhaps, be impossible tofind in the whole continent, and I could, while I wandered through it,scarcely avoid reflecting on the change which a hundred, or in allprobability no more than fifty, years might produce here. Then, it willbe thoroughly peopled. Possibly, a great inland city may have beenreared by the bustling and intelligent life of my country. The red manwill have been effaced by the onward march of civilization, or compelledby sheer necessity to accept a settled life. A Sharp's rifle or a coltwill no longer be possessions of paramount necessity to him who travelsthitherward. The buffalo will have been cleared out from this section ofthe States, and an antelope steak will be a rarity. At that period a manof my, at this time, nomadic instincts will be compelled to search forfresh ground in which to develop and enjoy them. The interior of Africaor South America will be the only parts of the world in which he canfollow the life of a wanderer, unchecked and unhindered.