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| CHAPTER XXII.
The Troops Ordered from Camp Floyd to New Mexico--I am |
| Solicited to Act As Guide--Through the Killing of an Ox I
Am Charged with Being a Traitor to the Church--The Trial--
My Acquittal--I Desire to Return Home, But am Forced to
Continue as Guide
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EARLY in the spring of 1860 orders came from Washington for a portion of the troops at Camp Floyd to move to New Mexico and to explore a wagon road from Salt Lake to Santa Fe, naming the route, as selected by the map, down Little White river, now Price creek, and crossing over the mouth of the Dolores, thence on to Santa Fe. On the old maps these rivers showed very well as far as directions went. At this time I was the only person in Utah that knew anything of the country desired to be explored, and my knowledge was limited to the old Spanish trail and some few side trails to Indian camps.
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The offer was made me to act as guide for the expedition. I declined at first but finally consented to go as far as Green river with an exploring party under Lieut. Archer, and see if a wagon road could be found by way of Spanish Fork to Green river.
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We succeeded in locating a road, but not down Price river. We left that river to the right, crossing the plains and striking the river at the lower crossing. It was decided to put a working force of soldiers on the route. This was the first opening of Spanish Fork canyon. I agreed to go as far as Green river with this company, with the privilege, given as an inducement to get me to go, of taking along a trader's wagon under the protection of the command. I arranged with my brother-in-law, S. B. Moore, to go with me and take this wagon, and attend to the trading business, we being equal partners in the venture.
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While working in Spanish Fork, making road, an ox was killed by a soldier. The ox belonged to a settler in Spanish Fork. Mr. Moore saw the soldier shoot the ox and told me about it. Next day John Berry came into camp, he being president of the settlement, and in a very excited manner demanded satisfaction for the ox. The commander, Captain Selden, said that he knew nothing about the killing and asked me if I had heard anything. I told him that I knew who had killed the ox. Berry wanted the man brought forward at once. The captain told him that the man should be given up to the civil authorities at once and proper restitution made. Berry seemed to get worse and worse; said he did not want any thief to take back with him, but wanted to see him and have him punished. Captain Selden told him that the army regulations defined modes for even bad men; that everything had to be done properly. He advised President Berry to take a course to have the man either arrested or else to leave the matter to him and he would work the punishment so as to get the pay and send to the owner. Berry would not listen to any proposition whatever. Finally, I told him that he was unreasonable and that I would not point out the man to him, but would to the captain before pay-day; that I would bring the money with me on my return, and I would leave it to Bishop Miller, the presiding bishop of Utah county, whether I was right or not.
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On my return I offered to pay to Berry the amount. He would not accept it unless accompanied by a plea of guilt to a charge already preferred against me before the High Council of being a traitor to the Church, aiding and abetting an enemy to destroy property belonging to a brother and refusing to point out the guilty party when called on to do so. Taking the whole charge together it was too steep for me. That I had refused to point out the party was a fact, and I was willing to be judged on the merits of the refusal when all the reasons were stated. So I refused and was brought to trial.
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The charge was read and considerable testimony given. In the charge the price of the ox was demanded. No effort was made to oppose this, but it was acknowledged and offered to be settled. At length Bishop Miller, the president, stood up and motioned that the charge be sustained. This aroused me. I replied to the Bishop's motion an excited and insulting manner, so much so that he motioned that Daniel W. Jones be cut off from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for insulting the priesthood.
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I replied, "You hold on; you cannot do it."
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"What do you mean?" he asked.
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"I mean I have had my stay; I am done. Now you have yours, and whatever you require of me I will do. But I will not be cut off from the Church even if I have to acknowledge to the charge."
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Here Joseph Clark asked permission to speak. He said he did not think the charge was sustained by the evidence; some others spoke the same. Finally Bishop Miller said to the clerk, "Read the charge again." On hearing and read the second time he said: "Oh, I do not mean to sustain the charge that Brother Jones is a traitor or anything of the kind. I had paid no particular attention to that part. All I mean is that Brother Jones pay for the ox according to agreement."
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This was a close call for me, but I saved my standing and honor. If I had said nothing probably this whole charge would have went on record as it was. Inasmuch as I had offered to pay the amount sent by the captain the whole charge was thrown out.
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This command under Selden was about one month working a road through to Green river. We had a pleasant time, doing well with our trading. We were treated well by both officers and men. Captain Selden was a kind-hearted officer, without any prejudices against the "Mormons," although he was one of those ordered out to wage a war against the people.
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On arriving at Green river where another guide was to take my place, we found he was not there. As the man, a Mexican, had not arrived I was told that my services would be required the balance of the trip. I refused to go. Before leaving Utah I had received word from Brother Brigham that he did not wish me to go on this trip. George W. Bean told me that Brother Young had said, "Tell Brother Jones I consider him one of my good boys and I do not want him to go off into that dangerous country and risk his life for money." I knew this to be the best of counsel, for the country was dangerous. The Mexicans of New Mexico were not over their bad feelings about the Indian slave trade. The ones who had profited by this traffic still held a grudge against "Mormons." This I had learned from some of my old associates that came through with Colonel Marcy. Both Utes and Navajoes were uncertain in those days, particularly those living on the borders of New Mexico. There were no regular mails or communications in those days between the two countries.
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Not only having a desire to respect the kindly advice of Brother Brigham, but knowing the risk we would run, I declined to go farther. On refusing, Colonel Canby, who was in command, instructed his adjutant to tell me that the good of the service required me to go on as guide, and that it would be impossible for them to fill the orders from Washington without my services; that if I went willingly I should be well treated and respected and that my brother-in-law would be employed as assistant guide; that they needed our wagon and team and that the quartermaster would pay us for it.
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I still refused, telling them I would run too much risk in getting back to Utah. Colonel Canby then promised me protection and mileage home, and informed me that I could accept the turns willingly or otherwise, they would have to keep a guard over me to see that I did not leave; neither would they settle with me for services up to date. I have several affidavits proving these facts. We found that nothing would do but to consent.
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The main command under Canby intended to follow what was known as Lorin's trail up the Grand river, cross over and go down to Fort Garland, while a company under Lieutenant Stith was to explore the Dolores river. I was wanted for both, but as this could not be I was sent on the Lorin trail, accompanied by a sergeant and an Indian, to the junction of the Grand and Gunnison rivers, to find the road and see how the crossing was.
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My hopes were that after this trip confining the road all right to this point that I could get off and return home, but not so. It was decided that we had to go on and guide the exploring expedition through on the Dolores I told Canby I did not know the country. No difference. My natural ability, with my general knowledge of the country, was all sufficient, so at length I gave up and went willingly. The most of the officers treated me with great kindness and respect. They knew I was a member of the "Mormon" Church and often asked me questions about our religion. Many evenings were spent in chatting about Utah affairs in a very pleasant and agreeable manner.
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After crossing Green river there is a desert of fifty-five miles to Grand river. The troops suffered considerable on this desert. Some few leaving the road to hunt water got lost, and one or two never were found; they either perished or fell into the hands of some hostile Indians. One little circumstance showing the need of understanding something of their language or signs in dealing with Indians happened at Green river. There were quite a number of Utes camped below the crossing. These Indians came into camp quite often.
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One day I noticed a crowd of soldiers making some curious and exciting moves. I approached to see what was the matter. I saw an Indian standing, holding something in his hand and looking rather confused. The soldiers were getting a rope ready to hang him; all was excitement and I am satisfied that if I had not happened along the poor Indian would have been swinging by the neck in less than five minutes.
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I could see from the Indian's manner that he realized something was wrong but could not understand why he was surrounded by soldiers.
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I asked them what they were doing. They said that the Indian had brought one of their horses that he had stolen into camp and sold it for thirty dollars; that the owner of the horse was there and they were intending to hang the "d----d thief." I told them to hold on a minute, that I did not think an Indian would steal a horse and bring it into the camp where it belonged to sell. Some one answered, "Yes, he has; there is the money now in his hand that he got for the horse."
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The Indian was still standing there, holding the money in his open hand and looking about as foolish as ever I saw one of his race look. I asked him what was up. He said he did not know what was the matter.
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"What about the horse and money?"
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He answered, "I found a horse down at our camp. I knew it belonged to the soldiers so I brought it up, thinking they would give me something for bringing it. This man," pointing to one, "came and took hold of the horse and put some money in my hand. It was yellow money and I did not want it. He then put some silver in my hand. There it all is. I don't understand what they are mad about."
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I soon got the trouble explained. The man thought he was buying the horse, the Indian thought he was rewarding him for bringing the animal to camp; the owner happened along just as the trade was being made. Here ignorance and prejudice came near causing a great crime. As soon as this was explained I took the money and gave it back to the owner. No one had thought of taking the money. All were bent on hanging the honest fellow. Soon there was a reverse of feeling; most of the soldiers in the crowd being Irish, they let their impulses run as far the other way, loading the Indian with shirts and blouses. Some gave him money, so that he went away feeling pretty well, but he remarked that the soldiers were kots-tu-shu-a (big fools).
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I have often thought there were many like these soldiers, " heap kots-tu-shu-a," in dealing with Indians.
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| | CHAPTER XXIII.
Difficulty in Finding the Trail--The Character of Our Commanding |
| Officer--My Discharge as Guide--A Proposition to Kill
Stith--Rejected by Moore and Myself--Arrival at Santa Fe
--The Confidence of the Quartermaster in Me
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ON ARRIVING at Grand river, Stith's outfit was prepared and we were sent across the river into a place entirely unknown to me. I did not even know whether the Dolores river was above or below me, and so told the officer. There was a point known as the bend of Dolores where I had been, but from where we were to that point the country was new to me. I had no definite idea of the distance but knew it must be several days' journey. This country, as the name of the river implies, was about the worst country I ever traveled through.
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While we were prospecting to see if we could get any sight of the river, I found a lone Indian. He had been out all alone on a stealing expedition to the Navajo Indians, had got a few horses and was on his way home to Uintah. After much persuasion and some pay, I induced him to go a day's travel and show me the river and put me on the trail if there was any.
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We were about thirty miles above the Dolores where it empties into Grand river. On arriving at the river, we found a trail leading up to it for only a short distance. My Indian friend described the country and trails to me so that I felt pretty sure of getting to a place with which I was acquainted.
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We were ten days reaching the bend of the Dolores where the old Spanish trail strikes it, but does not cross. We only struck the river twice the whole distance. It runs through box canyons most of the way, and is unapproachable; so the wagon-road ordered explored I do not think will be made yet awhile.
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By this time we had learned the character of our commanding officer. He was simply a ruffian of the worst type. I had to watch him daily, as he was suspicious of being led into ambush.
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We had met one party of Indians, an old man and family. My brother-in-law was acquainted with him, he having been one of the Grand valley company that was driven away by the Indians. This old man was of the peace party, and told Mr. Moore all about what had happened, after they were driven away. Seeing Moore friendly and talking with the old Indian made Stith more suspicious of us. He often hinted that it would be dangerous for us if we ever came across Indians in any number. This was not very pleasant, for we were in a country where a great many Indians roamed and we were liable to run across a lot at any time, but as good luck would have it, we never did. We always believed that if we had run into an Indian camp that Stith would have attempted to take our lives.
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The soldiers did not like him, neither did they think as he did, but they all feared him as he had shot down some of his company. This same officer had shot and killed one man, who had given out and could not travel. This occurred on a Texas desert.
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My intention was to take care of myself, and if we had met any Indians to see that I was not harmed if a good rifle could protect me. Moore and myself watched him all the time.
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We arrived at the Dolores bend at eleven o'clock a. m. I recommended camping. Stith said he had not made a day's march and would not camp. I said, "Then let's noon."
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"No, it lacks an hour of noon; we must travel an hour yet."
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I told him I wanted time to get my reckoning as I had not been here for some time and had come in a different direction from what I had done before and that there were many trails leading from this point further north. It was twenty miles to the next water. All this would not induce him even to noon, but he ordered the march to continue.
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After going a few miles he asked me where the water was for noon. I told him that all the water we would get would take till after night to reach. He then notified Moore and myself that we were discharged, and that there was a Mexican along who knew the road better than we did. I told him allright, to pay us and we would turn back. This he refused to do, saying that he intended to keep us along in case the Mexican did not know the country; that we would be better than no guides.
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We had guided this company 210 miles, through a country entirely unknown to us, and ten days' time, and the infantry with packs had never been lost or failed to get good camps. Now, after getting, for the first time, on a good trail, we were discharged for not finding water for noon on a dry desert and, as before stated, leaving water at about half-past eleven. So much for West Point discipline.
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After discharging us, as he supposed, Stith put his Mexican guide to lead, Moore and myself following along and taking it easy. We were in no way concerned about our discharge, for the quartermaster had told me to get along the best we could with Stith, but if we wanted, when we got into Santa Fe, to come back and meet Canby's command, and that we need not take a discharge from Stith unless we so desired.
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They now left the trail, at night taking to the left over a dry mesa; but no water was found. There was considerable suffering among the soldiers, as there was no water for coffee or cooking and but little to drink. Here the company planned to kill Stith, nearly all the company agreeing. They sent their committee to Moore and myself with the proposition that Stith and the Mexican guide be killed together with all that would not sustain the move, and that we were to guide them out of the country. This was fully determined upon and we had much trouble in persuading them out of the notion, but finally succeeded.
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Next day we continued our journey, arriving at the Mancos river much later than we would have done had we kept the trail. Stith soon learned that the Mexican knew but little about the country. After crossing the river we struck a big trail where it ascended a hill. On getting on this trail Stith made some very insulting remarks saying that now we had a guide who knew something.
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On reaching the top of the hill they found that the trail scattered, being a hunting trail and not a route. This puzzle the guide, who was the one that had taken the wrong direction. I hear got my ideas clear, and for the soldiers' sake, they having treated us kindly, I told Stith's lieutenant where the trail was. He informed Stith, who was now willing to listen, having lost faith in his Mexican. We soon struck the old trail. We could now have regained our positions had we wished to, but we agreed with Lieut. Bristol, who was a real good fellow, to tell him every morning, when necessary, and about the trail and distance; but not to speak to Stith about anything, and go along as though we cared nothing about the road.
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After this Moore and I had a pretty good time, riding along without any responsibility; hunting when we liked and taking it easy. We had many a good laugh at Stith's expense, for if we started out of a morning ahead he was afraid to lose sight of us for fear his guide would get lost.
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One morning, while traveling on a nice, plain trail, up a wide, smooth flat, Moore and I started up a steep mountain side, intending to follow along the mountain ridge and kill some game. We had gone but a short distance, without any trail whatever, when, on looking back, we saw the Mexican guide and Stith had left the trail and started to follow us. Bristol was in the rear with the pack train.
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At first we felt like letting them follow, but it seemed too hard on the poor foot soldiers to play them such a trick, so Steve Moore turned round and called out, "What in the h--- are you following us for?" Stith wanted to know if we were not on the trail. Moore told him his guide out to know where the trail was--that it was down on the flat; to go back and not be following us up the mountain.
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We traveled along the mountain ridge in sight of the trail most of the day watching the company. They often seemed lost and would stop and look to see if they could see us. We finally came into the trail and traveled along with the command.
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On arriving at the first settlement Stith got drunk and gambled off a lot of money that he expected to cover by the vouchers I would sign before drawing any pay from him.
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We were seventy miles from Santa Fe, the headquarters were we were to report to Colonel Fontleroy, the commander.
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Stith continued his spree several days, so Moore and I saddled up and went on to Santa Fe alone. On reaching that place I found many old friends, among the rest, Manuel Woods, keeping hotel. He was an old hotel keeper for whom I had kept bar during my first stay in Santa Fe. I explained our situation to him, stating that we intended to wait till the main command came in. He told us to make his house our home as long as we desired, and we could have all the money we wanted besides.
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My old friends, John Phillips, H. Stevens, F. Redmond, and many others, expressed themselves ready to assist us in any way possible.
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We turned our mules into the government corral and went to stop at the hotel.
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Colonel Fontleroy, on hearing that some one had arrived from Utah, sent for us to come to his office the next day. There had been some uneasiness felt about the company we had traveled with, and a party had been sent out to meet them. The party had gone as far as the Dolores and returned.
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We had seen their tracks; I wanted to follow the trail, knowing it to be white men's tracks. Stith took them for Indians' and refused to follow me.
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On meeting the colonel, he, in a very pompous manner, asked me who I was.
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I replied, "Daniel W. Jones."
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"Where you from?"
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"Salt Lake City, Utah."
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"How did you come here?"
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"On a mule."
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"What is your business--in what capacity have you come?" He was now much excited and asked a series of questions before stopping.
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I then told him I was a guide in government employ.
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He asked, "Where are the troops; where is the command you are guiding?"
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"The last I saw of them they were about seventy miles back. The commander and most of the company drunk."
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"Why are you not with them?"
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"I don't like whisky," was my answer.
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I felt insulted by his manner in first speaking so abruptly to me, and was determined not to give him any satisfaction until he spoke to me in a respectable manner. This he seemed to see and commenced asking his questions more politely. I gave him all the information I could about the moves of the troops on the road. He now approved of my coming ahead.
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When Stith arrived he made out my account and asked me to sign the vouchers. I thanked him, telling him that I did not need any money and did not wish my discharge just then. He flew into a terrible passion, saying that he could not settle his accounts unless I signed the vouchers. I replied that I had nothing to do with settling his accounts, all I wanted was my transfer back to the command. This he refused me, so we went and bought two mules on credit and went back to the command.
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We met them at Taos. The quartermaster was glad to see us, as he needed our services. I took the position of both guide and interpreter, Moore continuing as assistant.
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We got into the farming district about harvest time. There was no forage to be had except fields of grain. These were bought at high prices when animals were turned in over night and a guard placed around them. Often the animals would get into other fields doing some damage. The Mexicans made great complaint, often asking several hundred dollars for damages.
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The pasturage generally cost from $150 to $200 per night. The quartermaster would generally hand me $500 and tell me to settle. Sometimes I would be two or three hours settling, as the damage sometimes was on various patches.
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The people were at times unreasonable in their demands. When I could not get a reasonable settlement would refer to the authority. I made the people understand that they could not get anything only what was just and reasonable. When they found that I understood them they became much easier to deal with.
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In that country what you do today always gets to the camping place before you do.
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When all my accounts were settled for the day I would hand what money was left to the quartermaster, sometimes it would be over $100.
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One day on handing him the money he said, "Jones, you're a d----d fool."
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"Why?" I asked.
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"That money is already accounted for."
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I did not take the hint as he expected I would, but continued to return the overplus.
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This remark to me was made in kindness, as the quartermaster was a great friend of mine and wanted me to keep the money for myself, but I did not think it right. It would never had done me any good.
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When we arrived in Santa Fe, we were paid off in full up to date, and mileage allowed; but no protection was furnished for our return home. The Navajoes had just broken out and the troops had been ordered to chastise them. The good of the service now required that we get home the best we could. Aside from this we were treated in the best manner possible; provisions being given us by the quartermaster and some valuable presents by other officers.
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We knew that our chances were slim for getting back safely. To make things as safe as possible, however, we bought a good wagon and four first class mules; loaded up with Mexican and Navajo blankets and other goods believing that we would be less liable to get robbed of these goods than if we carried our money with us. We were also informed by some friends, who had lately come in from Denver that blankets of this kind were in good demand at that place. There was a great rush for Pike's Peak and miners and prospectors wanted these blankets.
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CHAPTER XXIV.
Leave Santa Fe for Home--Attacked by Robbers--A Shower of |
| Bullets--A Hard Ride--Incidents of Our Journey--A Novel
Sign
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WE LEFT Santa Fe about the 10th of September, 1860. Two young man that came through from Utah, whose homes were in the States, accompanied us on horseback. They were well mounted and we were all well armed. We took every precaution to make ourselves secure against thieves stealing our stock, or taking advantage of us in any way.
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We took the open road by way of Las Vegas, Fort Union, passing along the Raton mountains and continuing on without molestation of any kind until the evening of the 23rd, when we were attacked and robbed, the particulars of which I shall give together with our trip home to the best of my ability and recollection. Late in the afternoon we arrived at a creek where we intended to camp, but found no water. We had traveled about thirty miles, and the next chance for camping was several miles further on. Some of my reflections would not be amiss here. There was some gain in sight. We killed some wild turkeys. My companions were out after antelope and I was alone awaiting their return. We were now quite out of the dangerous country to all appearances, having traveled over three hundred miles without disturbance. We were now where it was considered safe for any one to travel. Still I felt uneasy. I remembered the words of President Young and I never had felt entirely safe on the road. In my reflections I felt as though I would rather lose what I had made than be tempted to disobey counsel again, by being successful. Still I was in hopes we could keep our property, and would try and do right in the future. I asked the Lord to direct me for the best, but to spare our lives on our road home.
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I had a positive feeling that we were in danger. Shortly before sundown we started on intending to make a night drive to the next watering place. After traveling a short distance we came to a hollow where a rain-storm, just passing over, had deposited some good fresh water, and where grass and fuel were plentiful. On approaching camp we descended from a ridge some three hundred yards to a flat. There was an open space some one hundred yards wide to the right of the road. We drove to near the center of this opening. The brush around was about waist high and not very thick. I commenced gathering up fuel, the others unhitching and taking care of the animals.
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After getting some dry brush ready, I was about striking a fire when we heard a noise of horsemen back on the road. The full moon was shining and on looking up we saw some eight or ten horsemen just disappearing over the ridge, going from us. As we were near the road and had neither seen nor heard any one passing, this surprised us not being able to account for the move.
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More and myself took our guns and went up to where we had seen them, to reconnoiter. On getting to the summit of the ridge we could see the tracks plainly where they had come following after us, and on seeing us had turned suddenly and run back. They, no doubt, had expected us to continue on some eight miles farther to the creek before camping, and had run on us unexpectedly. While examining these tracks and trying to solve the mystery, we heard the noise of horses about two hundred yards from the road, and discovered a small clump of cedars in the direction, being on the same side of the road as our camp and just back from the summit of the ridge.
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We decided at once that they were robbers following us; that they were tying up and hiding, intending to creep upon us afoot, being too cowardly to make an open attack. We hurried back to camp, intending to try and get to the timber on the creek. I gave orders to hitch up as quickly as possible. The two horsemen were to take the lead and run where the road was good, holding back where rough. I was to drive while Moore did the fighting from the wagon, if we were followed.
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Our team was full of life, so much so that we had to change the bits on the leaders, putting on heavy curb-bits, taking off the common ones with checks. This left the driving reins alone in the bits. The saddle horses were soon ready, one man holding them just in front of the team, three of us hitching as fast as possible. The mules commenced looking in the direction of the clump of cedars, now and then looking along the edge of the brush around us. I remarked that I believed they were surrounding us. Just as I was about taking the lines in hand, the team being all hitched except the wheel mules' traces, a shot was fired. I thought it came from one of our own party, so near by it seemed. I asked, "Who was that shooting?"
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Moore answered, "You know as much about it as I do."
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Suddenly several shots were fired. At this the mules started on the full run. I grabbed the nigh leader. The two men with horses now had hold of them, but were not mounted. All ran together, making a half circle back to the road about where we turned out, Moore holding to the off wheeler.
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As we ran the shots came thick and fast from the brush, clear along the half-circle up to the road. Just as we struck the road, crossing it to the west--our direction of travel being to the north--shots commenced coming from the left side, one striking and killing the nigh wheel mule. This stopped the team, as the leaders alone could not pull the wagon and drag the dead mule.
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The shots were now coming thick and fast from all sides. The lead mules were trying to get away. I called to Moore to cut the breast strap of the dead mule so that the leaders could continue toward open ground. He made a strike or two with his knife, but while doing so the off wheeler fell dead. An instant after the off leader fell. I now had hold of the only mule left standing.
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The two horsemen were just in front of the team, and when it stopped they halted also. One of them, Daniel Dafney, I shall always remember for his coolness and courage. I felt like giving the word to run and abandon the team, but knowing that we were some eight hundred miles from home, did not much like the prospect of footing it through.
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Moore raised his gun to shoot. I told him not to do so, as they, no doubt, would make a rush for us if we fired. In those days muzzle-loaders were all we had. One of the horsemen had a rope knocked from his hand with a bullet. On this he said to Dafney, "It is getting too hot, let's run."
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Dafney replied, "I will not leave till all leave."
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Just at this the off leader sprang up, not having been injured much, only grazed across the loins. I spoke to Moore, telling him to cut the mule out of the harness, and I would do the same with the nigh one, and we would try to get away.
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Dafney came and assisted each of us in getting our mules out of the harness. The most of the shots being directed toward the team, Dafney ran ten times more risk in coming to our assistance than if he had remained in front.
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The lead mules were fine large animals and full of life. They were terribly frightened at the shooting, which continued almost without ceasing. Once I called to them to stop shooting; that there was no need of killing us, as they were strong enough to come and take what they wanted. This I spoke in Spanish. No reply, except a stronger volley of shots.
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The mule I had hold of had never been ridden, but there was no time for "swapping horses." Each of us had heavy, old-fashioned rifles. I got a little the start of Moore, as Dafney assisted me first. My mule had a long rope tied to his neck, and when I mounted and started with the rope dragging it tangled in the harness, bringing my mule to a sudden halt. I managed to untie the rope from his neck. While doing this Dafney succeeded in helping Moore with his mule, which was almost unmanageable. We finally all got about an even start. The balls were still coming thick and fast, the robbers having advanced up as near as possible without coming into open ground. Some of them being within thirty yards of us.
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Our road led to the north, that was blocked, the firing coming from every direction but the west, where there was no brush. Our animals needed no guiding. As soon as they were free to run they broke with full speed to get away from the shots. It would be hard to tell which was the most frightened, we or the mules. Most of the shooting was done with revolvers. The mules soon took the lead of the horses.
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The prairies had many badger holes and broken spots and my mule came near throwing me several times in dodging them. I had not removed the mule's collar, and when I could scarcely stick on for these side plunges I ran my arm under it, taking my gun in my hand and clinching it tight. This steadied me so that I felt safe.
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After running some distance my mule commenced to act as though he was wounded and about to fall. This continued for several minutes, giving us much uneasiness, but he soon recovered himself. He must have been in pain from excitement, as he was not wounded.
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Moore and I were now neck and neck on the lead, going at full speed. I asked him to turn to the north and get our right direction of travel. He paid no attention to my words, so I repeated them rather sharply, when he answered, "D--n it, turn to the north yourself, I cannot turn my mule any more than a saw-log." We found we were much like the old parson who yoked himself to the calf, we were running away in spite of ourselves.
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On looking back we saw that the horsemen were about twenty yards in the rear. I called and asked them if their horses were under control. They answered, "Yes."
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"Then ride up and take the lead."
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They answered that our mules were too fast for them, so we managed to check their speed a little. The horsemen, whipping up, at length got the lead, when they turned to the north in the direction we wished to travel. Shortly after turning to the north we came to a clump of cedars. Here Moore and I tried hard to persuade our companions to stop, tie up and go back with us and creep on to the robbers, believing we could surprise and whip them. This we could not prevail on them to do. We continued on some few miles, coming to the creek bank where it was so steep that we could not cross. This forced us to go down toward the road, which we finally struck.
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I now became for the first time thoroughly frightened. During the whole scene that I have been describing, I had never felt much fear. While I was untying the rope the balls came so thick that the flesh on my ribs twitched a little. Moore says he could not help dodging when the bullets flew so thick and close. Dafney laughed and asked if he thought he could dodge them.
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It would have been an easy matter for the robbers to have come on and got to the crossing ahead of us, and ambushed us, as the brush was thick on each side of the road. This I fully realized and insisted that we should not take the road, but to no purpose. The others felt that we had got clear and it would be best to keep on to the next ranch, some forty miles distant. This we reached about sunrise.
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Moore and I rode all night bareback, most of the time on a hard trot.
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We arrived at Zan Hicklin's on the Green Horn river early in the morning. Hicklin was an old acquaintance and treated us kindly, furnishing us with saddles and blankets, and such provisions as we could take. We stayed with him three days before we were able to travel on, being so sore from our bareback feat.
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The night after our arrival Hicklin sent back a man to where we were robbed. The man reported finding the wagon all right, with a sack of bacon and some horse feed; also the dead mules and some parts of the harness, all the light straps being taken. From all the signs we judged the robbers to be Mexicans. Hicklin offered to get the wagon for us, but we felt like getting home the quickest and best way, and thought best to take it muleback. So we told Hickman to get the wagon and keep it.
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When we started on we had but little money and very poor clothes, as we were saving our good ones that we had bought in Santa Fe until we got home; but we had two first class mules, about as fine ones as are often seen, and we made up our minds to make as quick a trip home as possible. Our friends Dafney and companion were well mounted; they were going the same road as far as Denver. They got away with several hundred dollars, carried on their persons.
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Moore and I had expended our cash all but a few dollars. Our friends were liberal while we traveled together paying most of the expenses.
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The country was just being settled. There was but one house where Pueblo now is, besides the old shanties where the Mormon Company wintered in 1846-47. From Pueblo to Denver there were a few new farms just started. There were several cities by name but no one living in them. These were started to boom some mining camps, but the prospect failing the city also was abandoned. Some of these places are only remembered by a few of the old prospectors, never having been put upon record.
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We stopped one night with quite a pleasant, thrifty settler, on the Fountain Creek. During the evening he told us that he had lost quite a number of horses, some thirty or forty head, mostly good American mares and young stock; he had spent much time hunting them and finally given them up, supposing that they had been stolen, and taken entirely out of the country.
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The road from this place continued on up Fountain creek for some thirty miles then crossed over and down to Cherry creek; estimated eighty-five miles from this place to the next station, where we could find a stopping place. This looked like having to camp out. Something we were not prepared to do. Again we still were timid not having recovered from our stampede. We felt much better when in a safe place.
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Our landlord told us that a more direct route, that he had recommended to different ones and tried to get opened through, that would shorten the distance about half from his place to Cherry City. There was no trail through, but the country looked upon and favorable, and as our host had been kind to us and manifested quite a desire to have us go through, after receiving his directions and locating the points where the country showed best, we started out.
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After traveling about forty miles we saw quite a bunch of horses. On approaching them we discovered, from the brands and descriptions given us, that they were the lost stock of our kind entertainer.
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Not long after seeing the horses we struck the main road, having saved many miles of travel as our route was almost direct, while the old road was very crooked. Soon after striking the road we met a train, by which we sent a note to the owner where his horses were.
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After getting home we received a letter acknowledging our act and saying the animals were his. I have forgotten the name of the owner of the stock, but have often thought of the circumstance, for I will admit that we were tempted at first to try to make something out of the find.
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Notwithstanding our loss and sore feelings we found much on the trip to amuse and entertain us. Two of us were Missourians--Dafney and I, the other two were Yankees. The settlers along the route were mixed, some Missourians, others eastern people. The question generally was, shall we stop with a dirty Missourian or a stingy Yankee? We finally agreed to take it time about as much as possible. Various signs were put up along the road to attract the attention of the traveler, one I remember read something like this: "Bran, coal, pies, hay, whisky, eggs and other fruit."
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CHAPTER XXV.
Martin's Cruel Treatment of us--Baker's Kindness--Our Journey |
| Home--Reception by our Families--Our Claim Against the
Government
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WE expected to get some assistance from a man by the name of William Martin, whom we were acquainted with. He had been at Provo merchandising, but had moved to Denver.
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On arriving in Denver and meeting Martin, we told him our situation. He very readily said we could have what we wanted, and asked how much we would need. I told him twenty-five dollars would answer. It was about noon and he said, "Wait and have some dinner, then you can go on."
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He stepped out but returned in a few minutes, asking, "Whose fine mules are those under the shed?"
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I replied, "They are ours."
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He said, "They are fine mules; I will give you a good trade for them." And then offered us a pair of ponies and twenty-five dollars.
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I told him they were all we had left of what we had earned during our trip; that we were anxious to get home as soon as possible, and that they would carry us better than the ponies would. I knew the ponies well that he offered us. He insisted on the trade. We declined as the mules were worth at least $400, while the ponies were not worth over $75. If he gave us the $25 difference he would still get at least $300 for nothing. Finally, when we would not trade, Martin said he had no money to loan.
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He had a large provision store, and I said, "Then let us have a little provisions and we will go on."
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He replied that he was selling on commission and could let nothing go without the money. If ever two men felt indignant we did. We had parted company with our friends, the two horsemen. They still had plenty of money. They doubtless would have given us some had we asked them, but we were sure of getting some from Martin. I also had several old acquaintances in Denver who, no doubt, would have helped us, but we felt now like asking no assistance from any person.
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We had just forty cents and were four hundred miles from old Jack Robinson's camp at Bridger. We knew he would not turn us away. My answer to Martin was "Bill Martin, you see these two mules; they are better animals then you ought to own. It is only four hundred miles to Jack Robinson's; they will carry us in four days; we can starve that long and you can't have the mules. Good day."
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We bought forty cents worth of cheap cakes and started out with the expectation of going hungry. As we crossed the bridge spanning the Arkansas river, the roads forked. We enquired of a lad which road to take naming our direction. He said either, but that the left hand road went out five miles to Jim Baker's ranch. Here was a chance. Jim Baker was an old friend that I had often met on the plains. I had taken care of his brother, when snow-blind, while we were at Devil's Gate, so we concluded to go there and see if Baker would be like Martin.
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On arriving we were welcomed in the true, old-mountaineer style. Although grass was abundant, he turned our mules into his oat field. We told him about Martin, and he said, "Well now, I will go into town every Saturday, get drunk, and abuse Martin for this until I run him out of the country. I will never let up on him. Why he ain't fit to live."
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Baker had his squaw fix us up some food; all we would take. Next morning we started on feeling much better than when leaving Denver. We met with others along the road who supplied our wants.
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While at Bitter creek one of our mules got poisoned with bad water. We got him as far as Jack Robinson's camp, leaving him and getting another.
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On reaching Bridger, we overtook a government outfit coming into Camp Floyd--Captain Clery and escort. The Captain was on his way to relieve the then acting Quartermaster. He offered to supply us if we would travel with him as they did not know the road. We traveled with him two days receiving the best of treatment from officers and men. Our route led down Provo Canyon. I had a number of acquaintances in this valley; among the number Melvin Ross who lived at the head of the valley. He was a man of considerable means. I told Moore we would go and camp with him, telling how welcome we would be. There was a sergeant in the company who knew the road from Weber. Neither Moore nor myself had traveled the road from Weber to Provo valley. We went ahead and took the wrong road so that we lost several miles in getting back to the Provo Road. In the meantime the soldiers passed us and got ahead of us. This plagued us a little but we concluded to keep it to ourselves. When we finally arrived at Ross's ranch we found the soldiers had passed and were camped a short distance down the road.
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Ross was out in front of his house just laying out a big fat mutton dressed. He knew me but spoke rather coolly for an old friend, but asked us to get down. I told him we would like to stop and get something to eat and stay all night, but that we were without money. He replied that we had some good ropes and blankets. I told him we needed them, as we might go on down the canyon and camp, for we were anxious to get home to our families. He said there was good camping down the canyon. I thought he was doing this simply to joke us, but not so. We finally started on, but expecting to be called back and laughed at.
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Moore commenced laughing at me, saying, "That's your friend, is it?"
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I said, "He'll call us back; he cannot mean this only as a joke."
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Moore said, "Nary a joke; that man's in earnest."
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I felt just about as bad as I ever remember to have felt. We had been running the gauntlet for several hundred miles among strangers, looking forward with great expectations on reaching friends at home. We had traveled foty-five miles since eating. This we told Ross, but not a bite would he let us have unless we gave him a rope or blanket. This seemed so mean that we would rather have traveled all next day without food than to ask anyone again.
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When we came up to the soldier camp they asked us to stop and have supper. Our mules were fed oats and turned out. We said nothing about the grand (?) reception we had had, as we were ashamed to mention it. We stayed till about eleven o'clock and then went on down the canyon and laid out a short distance from several old friends and acquaintances. We dared not call on anyone; so early next morning we started for our homes in Provo, joking each other often and wondering if our wives would treat us as Ross had.
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We had made considerable money; every one of our acquaintances expected us back with plenty. Of course, our wives expected us to come home benefitted by the summer's trip. But all was lost and we were ragged and worn, and presented anything but a dudish appearance. I will not do our wives the injustice to say that we felt any doubt of the reception we would receive at home. They were sisters and two as good and faithful women as ever existed. We had no fears, although we made many propositions suggestive of their shutting us out.
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Our reception was such as true wives always give--all the more kind because of our misfortune. I do not think I ever heard a word of regret spoken by either of them for the loss of our property, so thankful were they for our lives being spared under the great risk we ran.
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I wrote on to Canby's adjutant, who, during the winter, was sent down to Washington. About the time the Civil war broke out I got a letter stating that I would get the money for our losses. But the officer attending to it was probably killed in the war, as I never heard any more from him.
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Many of the military officers to whom I have related the circumstance of our being pressed into service tell me the claim can be collected; it certainly is due to us, for we have never as yet received any benefit for our services.
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Acting on the suggestions of some of the army officers I got together sufficient affidavits to establish the facts here recorded making my claim according to facts. My papers were all returned to me with the statement that inasmuch as we were robbed by parties other than Indians, that nothing could be done for us.
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Some have advised me to change my papers and say that Indians were the depredators, and make the claim accordingly. This I shall not do as there is enough laid to the Indians already. If I ever get anything it will be on the justice of the claim just as it occurred and not by charging it to the Indians.
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| | CHAPTER XXVI.
Duties at Home--Building the Provo Canyon Road--Indulge in |
| a Row--Move to Salt Lake City--The Black Hawk War--
List of The Slain--No Help from the U. S. Troops
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AS I DO not consider an account of my home life of any particular interest to the general reader I will give only a brief sketch of it.
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On returning and settling up with Bachman and Hanks, who had furnished much of our trade supply, I found I would have to sell my home to pay them.
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In 1861, I went to Provo valley and took up land on Snake creek, where I fenced a farm, built a house, and corrals and raised a crop of wheat and potatoes and while binding wheat had to wear a heavy coat and woolen mittens as the weather was so cold. After gathering slip in my crop, I concluded to return to Provo and work at saddlery, expecting to go back in the spring and continue farming.
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During the early spring a flood came and destroyed the road through Provo Canyon, stopping all travel. In the fall of 1862, a company was organized to rebuild the road, the funds being furnished by voluntary contribution. Shadrick Holdaway, Chas. Kenedey, and I were chosen as committee; I being selected as secretary and treasurer. Having taken the work in hand it was pushed forward with considerable force. I was greatly interested as I wished to get back to my farm and could only do so by going around by Salt Lake City and through the Park to the valley, a distance of nearly one hundred miles, while the direct route was only twenty-five miles. Neither did I wish to be cut off from Provo, which I considered my real home. Many times I found funds hard to raise, so much so, that finally, in a tight-place I sold my farm to help on the road; so that by the time the road was finished and paid for, I had no individual use for it. But like many others of my labors for public good, my pay was in the satisfaction of seeing the work finished so as to be of use. To illustrate my situation and extremes in making payments I will relate one circumstance.
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The whole funds contributed were left in the hands of the contributors until wanted, all donations being named. Some donated flour, others potatoes, wood, lumber, and any and everything in the shape of produce being on the list. When jobs on the road were finished and accepted by the two other committee men, they would draw an order on the treasurer, who would have to draw on the contributors. Sometimes the means would not be just ready to the day, but almost invariably donators paid honorably. In fact I have no remembrance of a single instance where agreements made were not fulfilled in good time.
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There was one company of Welshman that took a contract amounting to twelve hundred dollars. The committee docked them, their job not being up to contract. This soured them so much that they sought to make trouble with me about their pay, allowing me no time whatever to settle up in the usual manner. After paying all but some fifty dollars, I asked a little time to see who was ready to pay that amount. I was given to understand that not much time would be allowed, so I gave them an order where I supposed they would be paid, but the party not being quite ready asked them to wait a few days and he would settle. This they would not do, but three of them returned to my house to whip me. I tried to reason with them but to no purpose. A row had to be had. I ordered them out of my house. They went out, picking up rocks and stood facing my door and abusing me, and daring me out. I grabbed a pair of hames fastened at the top with a strap. Without describing all that occurred, I did not get hurt, but paid a cow and calf for damages done to the leader of the party.
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When the row was over I started to the nearest alderman to complain about myself. Just as I approached, meeting the officer in his door-yard, a man came driving his team up the street on the full run, and shouting at the top of his voice not to listen to me, but have me arrested, that I had killed a man and nearly killed a lot more. This so enraged me that I gathered up some rocks and commenced war upon him, turning him back and chasing him down the street, team and all. The alderman fined me five dollars on my own complaint, but nothing for chasing Bob Caldwell and team. For a short time there were hard feelings in the community against me. I knew that I had been both hasty and severe, and gave a cow of my own free will, and settled up with good feelings to all parties.
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After the road was made passable and all accounts settled, I concluded to give up the project of becoming a farmer, and stick to my trade. In those days money was a little more plentiful among business men than before the Johnston army visited Utah. Still, much of the business was done with grain as the circulating medium. This made business rather slow, as at times I would have to load up a wagon and go to Salt Lake City, taking from three to five days, sometimes going with ox teams. I would sell my grain and return with about as much as I could carry under my arm.
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While on one of my trips for leather, Brother Isaac Brockbank made me an offered to come to the city and work for him, he being in charge of William Howard's tannery, shoe and harness factory. Considering this better than the slow manner in Provo, I moved to Salt Lake in 1863, where I continued to live and work at my trade uninterruptedly most of the time. I carried on business until the summer of 1871.
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During the time I lived in Salt Lake, Connor's army occupied Camp Douglas. The Civil war was still going on, also the Black Hawk war, so known in Utah from the fact that the leader of the depredating Utes, who broke up so many of the frontier settlements of Sanpete and Sevier counties, was called Black Hawk, after the old warrior of that name.
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The people of Salt Lake had many duties to perform in those days. Strong police forces (unpaid) had to be kept ready, as much prejudice and ill-filling existed at times. There were continual threats to arrest our leaders, which caused the people to be constantly on the alert.
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It is not my intention to write much in this work except that which the title justifies. Still, there are a few incidents that certainly would be of interest. For dates I'm indebted to "Church Chronology."
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Dec. 17, 1864. A landing and site for a church warehouse, afterwards known as Callsville, was selected by Anson Call, on the Colorado River, 125 miles from St. George, and the land along the Muddy found suitable to settle on. It was then contemplated to send the emigration from Europe by way of Panama and up the Colorado river to this landing, which was the head of navigation on the river named.
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I believe that I have heard about as much criticism and fault-finding against Brigham Young, for the effort made at Call's Landing to prepare for what the above refers to, as anything that was ever directed by him. Some few persons were advised to spend a few thousand dollars on the speculation. It failed, and they have been mourning about it ever since. I would ask how many of Brigham Young's enterprises have succeeded? His failures were but few.
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I always felt to honor and respect Brigham Young, but I have thought, that men sometimes honor him more than he asked, or then common sense could expect. That he was a good adviser and generally clear headed on business matters, all who knew him acknowledge. But that he could never make a mistake would have been unreasonable to expect. The work previously spoken of might have been useless. Still I do not think it was, and will give some of my reasons for thinking so. I have been much in the far south; have watched and studied the interests and progress of the southern country and its developments. I know that President Young's mind for some reason, was much drawn toward Southern Utah, Arizona, and Mexico. The settling of St. George and other places consider desert wastes, the building of the temple, etc., all show this.
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In carrying out this move, as far as it went, a road had to be opened up as far as the river. Soon this road was opened farther on into Arizona. Thus a thoroughfare such as the country would support, was opened up now clear through to some of the most fertile valleys and Arizona and Mexico. Some have been settled by our people, and others will be in time, as the best are not yet occupied.
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The commencement of the Black Hawk war was in 1865. The immediate cause was the whipping of an Indian by a white man. This occurred April 9th. Next day three white men were killed by Indians. April 12, in a battle, two more; July 14th two; July 26th, drove off most of the cattle from Glenwood, Sevier County; Oct. 17, eight persons were killed near Ephraim.
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1866. Jan. 8, two men were killed in Kane County; April 12th, three more in the same county. April 20th, Salina was raided, two men killed, and two hundred head of stock taken. Place was now vacated. April 22nd, one killed and two wounded in Piute County. June 10th, two men killed in Millard County. June 24th, one wounded in Thistle valley. June 26th, one white man killed in fight with Indians, who raided Spanish Fork.
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1867. March 21st, one man and three women were killed in Sevier County. Many southern settlements were alarmed on account of the raids during the spring of the year. June 1st, one killed and one wounded near Fountain Green. June 2nd, two killed on Twelve Mile creek. Aug. 13th, two killed at Springtown.
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By this time the people of Sanpete and Sevier counties began to get into shape to protect themselves better than they were at first; so that during the years 1869 and 1870 not many were killed, but raids were still common, the Indians often getting away with stock.
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Companies of home militia were sent out to guard and assist the settlements. Records show that General Connor and his army occupied Camp Douglas during the whole time of this bloodshed but I cannot find anything on records showing that any moves were made by Conner to assist, or in any way protect the settlements in their distress. Neither does my memory furnish an instance of help being furnished by the troops stationed at Camp Douglas to the people of Sanpete and Sevier Counties.
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It may be interesting to put on record some things that I do remember. For five years, from 1866 to 1871, I lived in the eastern part of Salt Lake City, directly in the exposed portion to the depredations of numbers of Connor's army. I know of many instances where the people were insulted and abused in a violent manner, often by large parties of soldiers headed by non-commissioned officers. In some instances even commissioned officers taking the lead in lawless acts.
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It was often hard to tell which were the most to be dreaded, the Indians in the South or the soldiers about the city.
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While the soldiers without organization or authority annoyed us, the commander lent his influence and offered his support to our political enemies, holding his army over the Mormons as a continual menace.
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The Mormons are being accused of disloyalty; possibly this is a correct and just accusation, owing to their ignorance of what loyalty means. I will not accuse any one of disloyalty, simply because I am in the same dilemma--ignorant; but will ask, is it right and legal to fit out with government supplies, tools, and animals, and take enlisted men to work prospecting for mines, for private interests, under pretense of going to protect American citizens in their legitimate business against the Mormons? Or what it be consistent to suppose that the Mormons would be able to molest these prospectors even if so inclined, when so much occupied in protecting themselves against the Indians and the more savage and unreasonable attacks of the soldiers? Again is it legal to sell to miners and freighters by the thousands, and then to allow the commissary store-houses to get fire and burn down, allowing this fire to get so extremely hot as to burn up log-chains by the hundreds.
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Now the Mormons had never taking part in anything of this kind. They are called disloyal. I do decline to be sworn on the subject, but rumor says that these things were done and headed by parties who are now called intensely "loyal."
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During the war with the Indians numbers of them were killed or wounded. About the year 1868 or 1869 there was some little effort made to bring about a peace. Brother D. B. Huntington had a talk with some in Thistle valley who wished peace, but many thefts and small raids were made after this, continuing from time to time. The Indians began to have a dread of some settlements as guards and patrols were out at times. One small party had stolen some stock from Provo valley. They were killing a beef, when they were surprised and all killed. The Indians acknowledged to me that they were afraid of Provo and Rhodes' valley people.
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| | CHAPTER XXVII.
I Decide to Visit the Hostile Indians--Tabby's Message--My |
| Ruse to Avoid Being Killed or Driven Away--Tabby's
Relenting--The Design to Raid Coalville Frustrated
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DURING the Black Hawk war a great many from Utah and Salt Lake counties were sent out to repel the Indians and assist in protecting the settlements of Sanpete and Sevier counties. I never was called to go. My feelings were different from the most. Although the Indians were cruel and unjust, I could not help but remember their personal kindness and friendship for me and dreaded the idea of being called upon to fight them.
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The regiment (Colonel Sharp's) to which I belonged, had already been called upon for detail, Captain Crow and company having spent sometime in Sanpete. About the next call would have been for my company, as we belonged to the same regiment. My mind and feelings were much exercised over these matters for I could not refuse to go in my turn, as no possible explanation could be given to relieve me from the suspicion of cowardice.
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Many times, in reflecting upon the subject, my feelings were to go and see the Indians personally. Although they were at war, and had been for some six or eight years and killed numbers of our people, breaking up whole districts, still I felt as though I would rather approach them as a peacemaker than as a fighter. Luckily, one day in the summer of 1871, I met an Indian that I recognized at once as an old acquaintance, Ancatowats.
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To the reader, who is not acquainted with those days, it will be necessary to say that there were friendly Indians in and around the settlements who took no part in this war, but would not inform on the hostiles when they came in, in a peaceable manner, to visit them. I had often heard of this Indian--Ancatowats--being one of Black Hawk's most active raiders. When I called him by name he said he did not know me. I told him how I felt towards the Indians. Soon I got his confidence and we had a long talk. He told me all about the hostile and others of the Uintahs who were not actively at war. He said the Indians wished they could get some of my saddles. (I had sold them a great many in former years.) Said their saddles were all gone or broken up, so that their horses all had bruised backs. He bought three saddles of me at the time. He also told me that there was a new agent in town from Washington whom he thought was a good man; that he talked good and that he also wanted a saddle.
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This Indian said to me that he thought maybe I could go out with the agent and make saddles for the Indians if I wanted to, and that, as I was an old friend and had never been out to fight them, he did not think they would want to kill me. I went and talked with George A. Smith, giving him a full understanding of my feelings, also telling of the proposition of the Indian. Brother Smith agreed with me that if someone could get among the Indians and talk to them in a proper spirit it would do more good than fighting them, and said, "If you have faith to try it you shall have my faith and blessing in the effort."
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I laid before him some of my plans, which he approved of, advising me to say nothing to anyone else about the business, but to use prudence and the best judgment possible. He warned me that I would have a hard job and hoped that I would not get discouraged.
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I managed to see the agent and mentioned to him my desire to visit the agency, telling him that I was an interpreter. He said if I could bring a testimonial from some responsible party he would employ me, as he wished someone, who really understood the Indians and was friendly with them, to act as interpreter. I furnished the necessary paper and asked the privilege of taking my tools and some material under an agreeable arrangement. This was allowed. I closed up my business and went, in company with the agent, to Uintah.
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On arriving at that place I was notified by the Indians to leave within three days or they would kill me. This I was prepared to expect, for my Indian friend in Salt Lake did not speak very positively in regard to my safety in going, but thought maybe it would be all right. This word came from Tabby, my old friend. He would not come to see me, but sent word, saying, "You are an old friend, but the Mormons have killed many of my people; you are a Mormon, and if you stay here you will be killed. Some are mad because I do not want you killed at once. Now hurry and get ready for I do not want to see you die."
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I went to work, feeling first rate, and made me a saddle within the time. Some of the Indians would come where I was at work and watch me, but would not speak. I treated them with perfect indifference.
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When the saddle was done an Indian wanted to buy it. I told him I could not sell it; that I had to leave or the Indians would kill me. He said he would go and see if they would not wait three days more, so that I could let him have the one on hand. I agreed. He returned in a few hours and said it was all right. Some might ask, "Could you believe him?" I answer, most certainly.
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I sold the saddle starting on another, which had the same history, thus continuing for some time until I began to feel quite at home, making saddles and selling them for a good price, with the prospect of being killed every three days. There is an old saying that one can get used to almost anything except getting killed more than once.
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Tabby often passed by where I could see him, but would never look towards me. I believed that in his heart he was my friend, for I was his. This looked a little strange, but, understanding Indian character so well, I knew it would not do for me to speak first.
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One day Tabby stepped into my shop accompanied by his young squaw. I had my work-bench across the room so that I faced the door, all my stuff behind and protected by the bench. I kept very busy, scarcely speaking to anyone coming in. Simply selling saddles under the rule mentioned. He came up to the bench in haughty Indian style, never offering to speak. I felt almost like laughing for I knew he was playing a part, and I determined to beat him if possible, so I never even looked up from my work. Soon he laid a new butcher knife down on the bench without speaking a word. I took the knife and made a nice scabbard for it, and laid it on the bench before him. He then took a pair of stirrups from his squaw and laid them on the bench. I had a pair of stirrups-leathers made and hanging up. I took them and put them on the stirrups and laid them down as I had the knife, then went on with my work without taking any further notice.
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Tabby stood straight and silent, hardly moving during this. He then took from his squaw some buckskin, and without a word laid them on my bench. I commenced cleaning up, giving my bench a general straightening. When I came to the buckskins I handled them as though they were trash in my way, and asked the squaw if she would not take care of them. At this Tabby laughed, holding out his hand in a friendly way, saying, "All right, we are friends, and it is foolish for us to not talk and be as we used to be."
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He then told me that most of the Indians liked me and thought I was a friend, but that "Yank" and his crowd thought I was a spy and wanted to kill me; but that if I could win him I would be all right. After this I hadn't much fear, for I did not believe Yank would kill me for he needed a saddle very badly.
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I soon learned the general condition of affairs, getting information both from the Indians themselves and some of the whites at the agency. Tabby, and quite a number of the better disposed Utes, claimed that they never had been at war with the Mormons, but acknowledged that they had a very bad feeling about the killing of some of their friends under circumstances that did not justify, telling about Tabby's half-brother, who, Tabby claims, was a friend and not an enemy.
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I myself knew of several instances where Indians were killed, that to me looked a little crooked, and when their friends talked about these cases, I could not help but admit sometimes that they had a right to get mad. One Indian, known as Big-Mouth-Jim, took quite a liking to me and became quite communicative. He was very faithful, never deceiving me. He would tell me how the Indians talked about me; what their plans were for raiding, and gave me advice how to control their actions, by a little stratagem.
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The season was getting late. Coalville was selected as the place to raid. Yank had everything arranged but could not go without a saddle as his was about used up. Jim advised me to put him off, saying that if I could do so until snow fell that he would not go and perhaps by spring I could "make him good."
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There were a great many wanting saddles. More than I could possibly supply, so that it was easy to put Yank off. I allowed the idea to still prevail that I had to leave and would not sell any Indian a saddle without the understanding that I could remain long enough to make another. I was not in the least afraid, but this suited me for I had not yet made terms with the raiders. Finally snow fell in the mountains. Jim said, "Now you can let Yank have a saddle; he will go with the rest on a hunt and not go to Coalville." About this time the greater number of the Utes were starting on their fall hunt. Yank came in offering me some buckskins for a saddle. I told him I was going home; that I was afraid when Tabby and the good Indians went away that he would kill me. He said I was a fool to think so; that I was a good man and all the Indians liked me and none of them would kill me. I then sold him a saddle I had ready.
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The Indians explained many things to me about the management at the agency. Saying that the former agents stole most that the government sent them. They did not know how the new agent would be, but agreed if I would be their friend and tell "Washington" the truth, just how things were done it would be different. They believed "Washington" was honest, had a kind heart, and when hungry man came to him crying for something to eat, that he made Indian agents of them and sent them out here to the Indians. They did not think this was right for they needed all that the government gave them and there was nothing to spare for the agents to steal without leaving the Indians hungry.
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Tabby said that some of "Brigham's Bishops" helped the agents to steal and this made the Indians mad, causing them to raid upon the Mormons and to excuse themselves by saying that if the Mormons did not help to steal their provisions they would have enough; but as it was, they had to steal Mormon cattle, and when the Mormons followed them, sometimes they had to fight; but would just as soon get their beef without killing anyone as to have to kill them.
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The question may be asked was there any truth or reason in this? I thought at one time of writing up some facts that can be proved, giving circumstances and names which would clearly show that the Indians had reason to talk as they did. If blood was shed and the cause originated through the speculative act of some man who ought to have known better, the day of reckoning will come without my calling them to account in this little history.
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After becoming acquainted with the condition of affairs at the Uintah and the White River agency, I made up my mind to act as a friend to the Indians in trying to get something done to better their condition. That there had been a great deal of neglect and crookedness going on for years, no one could doubt. Reports were circulated that some of the government officials, prior to this time, had encouraged the Indians in stealing cattle from the Mormons, thinking that if the Indians supplied themselves with beef they could better appropriate what government furnished, than when the Utes were peaceable and not stealing. The new agent was very emphatic in his denunciations of former agents. He seemed disposed to change the management, and worked for the good of the natives. He asked me to find how the Indians felt and to assist him in every way possible to get things in good order and work to make the Indians happy and contented. I felt much pleasure in the prospective work before me.
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After I had been in the agency a few weeks, the agent started to Salt Lake City to buy winter supplies. He instructed me to come in and bring his team and light wagon. In a few days after his leaving, I got ready to start in. According to previous arrangements, I was to have the right to take in with the agent's team the buckskins and furs that I had received for saddles. As far as I knew good feeling existed between the agent and myself. But when I was ready to start in, the clerk then in charge told me that the agent had instructed him not to allow me to haul any of my stuff in his wagon; that I was to take the wagon in empty. George Basor, the post trader, and a Mr. Morgan, blacksmith, were going in with me. They told me that for some cause the agent had "gone back" on me. But I concluded not to "go back" on myself so I got my skins and furs ready. The clerk at first forbade me to load them in, but soon took another notion and assisted me to load the stuff into the wagon.
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After the agent had left the clerk in charge, business was carried on in a very bad manner. Quite a crop of potatoes had been raised; the weather commenced to grow cold, potatoes freezing. Instead of digging and taking care each day of the potatoes dug, he would have all hands dig all they could and then try to get all hands--mechanics, cooks, and all, to gather them in after night. While working in this manner the Indians were not allowed to help, but at the same time the most of these potatoes were expected to be eaten by the Indians. Many other things as foolish were being done daily. I kept a memorandum, intending to report to the agent according to my agreement with him.
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About the time Mr. Basor, Mr. Morgan and myself were ready to start in, the first severe snow storm of the season commenced. We had quite a hard trip getting into the valley.
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| | CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Salt Lake City Election in 1874--Deputy Marshalls Attempt |
| to Run Things--Mayor Wells' Order--The Mob Dispersed--
Captain Burt and his Men Make Some Sore Heads
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ON ARRIVING in Salt Lake, in company with Mr. Morgan, the agency blacksmith, who had been discharged by the clerk because he refused to put long, sharp corks on the agent's team, which would have cut them while floundering through deep snow-drifts--such as we would encounter on the road--which any experienced man knows is correct. But the clerk, like many others, felt that a little authority must of necessity make him wise, thought differently. On reporting the clerk to the agent, we were considerably surprised at his answer to us. He told us that the clerk suited him, and if we did not like him we could stay away from the agency. I told him that Tom Layton was a fraud on honesty and good sense, and if he felt to uphold him, he was a different man from what I supposed him to be. I wanted to know why he instructed me to notice how the affairs were conducted and report facts, which I had done and could prove all I said, and then treat my information in the way he did. The agent told me he did not want me any more and would discharge me from his service and forbade me going to the agency. I answered that whether he discharged me or not, I had business at the agency, and calculated to visit there whether he wanted me to do so or not. He replied that it was now late in this season and that he expected much trouble in getting his supply-train through that was now about starting from Heber City with flour and other provisions, and that he forbade my going with them. He then rather derisively remarked that he did not think that I would be able to make the trip, that he thought it would be about as much as he could do with the government to back him up, to get back to Uintah; and hardly thought any one else would try the trip so late in the season.
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I told him there was not enough snow for me yet. But after a while when traveling was good, I would call over and see him. I had already studied out my campaign for the winter.
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Before leaving the Uintah agency, I had promised the Indians that I would return and do all I could for them. They wanted me to try and get the place of trader. There were many things they wanted that they could not get. Among the rest children's woolen shirts and dresses of various sizes. My wife went to work, with the assistance of some of our neighbors, (particularly that of the Sisters Brower of the 11th Ward) and made a lot of such as were needed.
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The agent left sometime in November. The trip had never been made in the winter by anyone, as the snow often fell from fifteen to twenty feet on the mountains that had to be crossed. So when I spoke of going many of my friends considered me a little crazy.
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I knew the work before me, that I had so much interest in, and that was making permanent peace with the Indians, could only be accomplished by keeping my word with them, and gaining their entire confidence; so I determined to go or perish in the attempt. I knew that I was engaged in a good work and fully believed that I would be preserved and strengthened according to the undertaking. I knew the country I had to travel was rough in the extreme, with high mountains and deep rough canyons. Following the road would be of no use, as it would be entirely covered with snow several feet deep. So I made up my mind to wait until mid winter when the snow was deepest and take as direct a route as possible.
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With the assistance of Calvin Ensign, I constructed a sled of peculiar and original pattern. One thing was certain; unless good sleeping arrangements could be provided, we would perish at night. The sled was long enough and of size and shape so that two could sleep in it by lapping our feet and legs to the knees, each one taking his end. We took in provisions goods and bedding to nearly four hundred pounds weight.
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My wife assisted me in every way possible in getting ready, with a kind and cheerful spirit, manifesting no uneasiness whatever. As I have before mentioned whenever my labors were among the Indians, she sympathized with me fully. Eight days before I started, a son was born to me. My wife was confined to her bed when I started. I waited as long a time as possible, but there was now plenty of snow.
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I started Jan. 12, 1872. I hired N. Murdock of Provo valley, to take my sled to Heber City. I had not yet found any person to go with me, expecting to procure some one in Provo valley, as there were a number of hardy, venturesome persons living there who were in the habit of going out for days on snow-shoes, hunting elk and trapping beaver. On arriving there I found Bradley Sessions, a Mormon Battalion boy, willing to undertake the trip. I told him all I wanted him to agree was, that if we perished on the trip he would agree with me that we would not grumble, but die uncomplainingly; that under no circumstances were we to give up or turn back.
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He said, "All right, I will stay with you." And he did.
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Brother Sessions furnished me with a pair of snow-shoes. I had prepared almost everything else needed for two before leaving the city, so that we were soon ready to start.
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On leaving Heber City we took the most direct road over the pass leading down into the west fork of the Duchesne, then down to the main stream intersecting the government road, not far from where it crosses this stream. The divide is too steep for a wagon road, but part of the way up had been used for carting timber down to a mill near the foot hills. There was a sled to road some few miles out from Heber City to this mill. Brother John Duke hauled our sled that far with his team; here we made our first camp, in an old house. I had taken from the city a large, strong dog with the idea of having a camp guard, as wolves and other wild animals were in the mountains.
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We had a few light tools along with us for repairing our sled in case of accident, and Brother Sessions wished to take along a few beaver traps. Our load already being heavy, and the traps awkward to load among our bedding, as our whole load of goods were arranged in convenient shape for a bed, we concluded to make a sled and harness our dog to it to pull the traps. We got some choke-cherry sticks with crooked ends and spent the evening making a rig for the dog. When harnessed up next morning, he acted rather unruly.
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We found the snow lighter than we expected. The winter had been continually cold, the snows deep and not yet settled or packed. But we had started out to stay with it and did not intend to give up. We found it impossible to move our sled on the snow until a road was packed. Accordingly we would take a few handy articles on our backs, and with our snow-shoes, five feet long and some fifteen inches wide, go forward tramping a trail wide enough for our sled, the dog following with his load. After traveling a mile or two we would return and bring up our sled.
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The main trouble we had was with our dog chasing the little pine squirrels, running after them sled and all, and getting overturned, or hung among the trees. We would have to straighten him out. We did not like to thrash him for fear he would run off, as he seemed a little disposed to get away from us.
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This tramping road and having to double on our tracks was very laborious. Many times even after tramping the road the way was so steep that it took all our strength to move the sled a few rods at a time, but when an easy grade was reached, we walked along quite easily with our four hundred pound load.
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We were five days in reaching the summit. When there we could look back and see Heber City, some twenty miles distant. This looked a little trying to us as our provisions were wasting away very fast.
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Our dog seemed to understand this situation and rebelled. I had hard work to conquer him. Heretofore we had coaxed him along, but it now became necessary to make him mind as bolognes were getting too scarce to feed him more than his share. We crossed the divide at the head of the West Fork of the Duschesne. The weather was so cold that we were afraid to halt for dinner until we had descended quite a distance from the summit. Once we halted among some dry trees intending to get dinner, but the wind blew so cold that we were forced to swallow a few bits of frozen meat and go on. We naturally expected that the descent would be much easier and more rapid than pulling up the mountain. In this we were mistaken, owing to the wind blowing the light snow from the mountain tops which settled down into the canyon. Much of the time we had to tramp and make road before we could move along. Sometimes the whole bottom was covered with willows, the tops sticking out and holding the snow up so light that we had to cut and tramp them into the snow before we could move our sled along. While passing the narrows, we had to make a dug way for quite a distance, still we pressed forward. Neither could we abandon our sled or goods, for the sled was our salvation to sleep in. Almost any night we would have perished with cold without our bed-room.
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The goods we were taking were promised, and the influence I desired to gain with the Indians would greatly depend upon successfully reaching them with the outfit. When I made them the promise I expected to go out with the agent and take these things with me; but when he forbade me going it only raised my ire and I was determined to go.
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By the time we reached the main fork of the Duschesne, our provisions were about gone. Game cannot exist in the high mountains during the coldest part of the winter. Nothing had been met. We hoped to find something on reaching the river. We camped near some springs that ran into the stream, finding places where the river was open. We hoped to catch some fish for supper. We cast our hooks, but had no bites. We continued to fish until near dusk. We had traveled eight days without rest, but agreed if we could get something for supper, to lay over and call it a Sabbath. We finally gave up fishing.
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Brother Sessions got to camp a little ahead of me. I followed, feeling very much discouraged, I thought of course we would have to go to bed supperless. It was becoming quite dark, and suddenly I heard a shot that made me feel happy. Directly another was fired. As I came up Bradley was reloading his shot gun and remarked, "We've got supper and breakfast. Here are two pine hens."
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At that the third one came flying along, knocked Sessions' cap off his head and lit on the ground just in front of him. He shot, saying, "There's dinner." We had a few crumbs of crackers and a small piece of bacon. We soon had a fine stew of one of the chickens giving the dog his share. The dog had by this time become quite well trained, and a great favorite also, pulling his sled with nearly one hundred pounds load on it.
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We laid over next day, catching several fine trout. We had not yet suffered for food, so we ate heartily, knowing that as long as we kept our strength we were all right, that it would be time to starve when forced to it.
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When we left camp, we had a few fish; enough for one meal, and one small meal of crumbs and a few bits of bacon. We agreed to try and make a good drive down the river that day and not stop for dinner; and if possible reach the road where we hoped to find the snow hard. The snow was now harder than in the mountains. We could move along slowly without tramping a road and were making very good time.
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About noon I became very hungry and remarked to Sessions that the man who works has a right to eat. He replied, "That's what I think."
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We halted, took out our little stock of food, and ate it all except the fish.
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About the time we had fairly started on, we discovered a mountain sheep on a high point of the mountain. Sessions grabbed his rifle, telling me to try and keep the sled in motion so as to attract its attention and he would have some meat for supper.
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I continued tugging at the sled, moving a few rods at a time. Bradley climbed the mountain at a rate of speed that could not well have been done by a hungry man. Still it took quite a while as it was a long way up. I could see this sheep, but Sessions kept out of its sight. He had now got well up the mountain, I heard the rifle crack and saw the sheep fall. I felt happy again and moved up to some dry cedars at the foot of the mountain and had a fire ready for a roast by the time Sessions got down the mountain with the meat.
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After roasting and eating what we wanted we moved on down to old Fort Duschesne, now abandoned. We cut up our meat, which was very poor, being mostly skin and bone; jerked the flesh which was but little, boiled the bones and ate very heartily.
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Next morning we were both sick. I took the dog and his sled and went down to the government road, a few miles distant. The traveling was tolerably good. We fed the most of the meat to the dog as it seemed to weaken us to eat it.
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After resting one day we moved down to the road, camping near an old house. We had hopes of finding something stored here that we could eat, but nothing whatever was found. The house was open and no wood very near, so we camped where there was plenty of dry timber standing.
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We were very weak, our stomachs being out of condition and nothing to eat except the jerked meat, which only made us sicker to eat it. It was an intensely cold evening. We became chilled and hadn't strength to cut down trees to make a good fire. There were a few dry willows but they would only make a temporary blaze. Each of us tried to use the ax but we were as weak as little children. I never felt so used up before. I felt as though we would perish, I knew if we went to bed in our exhausted, chilled condition we would be in danger of freezing; for no amount of clothing will warm a person under such circumstances, but, like the ice, the more blankets you wrap around the colder it keeps. Some may doubt this, but when far enough chilled there is danger in going to bed. I have had to get up and make a fire more than once to get thawed out.
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Our condition seemed almost hopeless; so much so that I found the tears running down my cheeks before I thought what to do. This weakness made me a little angry with myself. At last I told Bradley together as many willows as possible. The wind was blowing almost a blizzard, but we were in the timber and tolerably well protected.
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I got our coffee pot ready and made a lot of strong coffee. We drank of it and ate a few bites of the meat. The coffee seemed to almost intoxicate us, giving us strength. We pitched in like strong men and cut down trees and made up a roaring fire, got well warmed up and went to bed and slept soundly.
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Next morning we were quite feeble, but felt safe as the traveling was now of a different kind from this point, for forty-five miles to the agency. The road was open for teams; in fact, in many places, the snow was clear from the road which was now muddy and heavy; so we stored our sled in the old house, left our snow-shoes, strapped a pair of blankets on the dog and started on. We had nothing for breakfast, and a march of two days was before us. We were so determined to keep our pledge not to complain, that we never spoke a word regarding our situation, simply doing what we had to and moving on just as though all was right.
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We had our guns but no game came in our way, and we were too weak to risk a step out of our direction on an uncertain hunt. We never spoke of the thought until afterwards, but our last hope was to kill our dog, which would have seemed almost like killing a human being, for he carried a heavy pair of blankets on his back when we were too weak to carry them ourselves. Again our condition would not be materially helped by unpalatable dog meat. We were more sick from bad food than starved. Our condition grew worse and worse. Each of us was attacked with flux in a most violent manner.
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I remember well of looking ahead several times a few rods and picking out some object by the side of the road and thinking it looked a more comfortable place to die in than where I was. Sessions told me afterwards his thoughts were the same. First one and then the other would pass on a little way and stop; not a word was spoken. My feelings were to move ahead as long as a mite of strength lasted.
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We continued on in this way until about the middle of the afternoon. Our progress was slow. We had fell in together and were moving along at a snail's pace, when Sessions stooped down, picked up something, and in a joyous tone explained, "Here's life." And breaking in two an ear of corn handed me half of it. We commenced eating. I ate mine cob and all, chewing it a long time before swallowing. Never before or since have I tasted anything so sweet and strengthening. It seemed to penetrate to the end of my toes. We were strengthened immediately and commenced to walk at a regular, even pace, in good traveling time.
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About the time we had finished eating this, I discovered another ear, picked it up and divided it, saying, "Here is more life." Our sickness ceased entirely and we continued traveling until near midnight. We arrived at a good dry camp, gave the last scrap of meat to the faithful dog, feeling that we were good for next day's tramp, food or no food.
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It was a good long day's travel. The next morning we left our blankets hung up in a tree, measured our gait, and agreed to keep it up, setting our time to arrive at the station about sundown. At times I was tempted to cry "enough, halt," but it seemed as though we dared not stop for fear we could not get up steam for another start. So we kept up our gait all day and till nine o'clock at night.
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When we arrived at the trader's quarters owned by George Basor, whom I was well acquainted with, and who still lives in that region. George started back and in a serious manner asked, "Is this Dan Jones' ghost, or Dan himself?"
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I answered, "I am Dan, and d----d hungry."
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He grasped my hand, laughing, and said he saw it was all right, for Dan always came into camp hungry.
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While we were at supper some of the boys went over to the agent's office and told of our arrival. They came back and said that the agent and clerk declared they intended to kill me on sight.
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I do not wish to be considered a boaster, in truth I leave many things untold that I might tell, only I despise a braggart and do not wish to appear as one. I was too hungry to let this report stop my eating. When I got through, I picked up my shot gun, putting a few extra navy balls into it and told the boys I was going over to the office. Some of them wanted to go with me, but I preferred going alone.
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Men often get the name of being brave and fearless from such occurrences, but in this case I will tell just how I felt and what my reasons were, and I think many others feel the same under similar circumstances.
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I consider suspense or uncertainty the most disagreeable condition in the world. I do not wish to be annoyed by fear or dread of being killed and I deemed it best to get that off my mind at once, as I was tired and wished to rest. Again, I wanted freedom to be at the agency unmolested. Then I did not much believe that the intention was to kill me, for men who really intend to kill scarcely ever send word of their intentions. All this passed in my mind, so it was not any great bravery on my part.
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On reaching the office I knocked, and was told to come in. I had my shot gun ready. Their pistols lay in front of them. I was asked what I wanted. I replied that I wanted to know whether it was to be war or peace.
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The agent answered, "I guess it had better be peace."
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"Peace it is then," I put my gun down and shook hands with both.
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I was kindly treated and accommodated in many ways by the agent, after this, while at the agency I got a team from him to bring in the sled and goods.
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CHAPTER XXIX.
I Visit the Indian Camp--Our Big Talk--Some of Their Grievances |
| --The Kindness of an Indian in Providing me A Horse
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THE Indians were greatly pleased to see me. It is well understood by all who are acquainted with Indian character, that they undemonstrative as a rule, except when angry, especially the warriors. Many of them said I was a strong man and had good legs. They admired my companion, saying they knew him and knew he was a good hunter.
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The most that I desired for a few days was to rest and eat. Sessions soon got filled up, but it seemed to me that I never would be able to satisfy my stomach for having punished it so with the sickly mountain sheep. There was plenty to eat at the trader's quarters. The agent was kind, giving us all the potatoes and milk we wanted; these being about the only articles the trader was lacking. The dog was in about the same fix as myself, he tried to eat everything on the reservation, but finally got satisfied by getting at a barrel of tallow, one day, and eating, as we all estimated, about ten pounds. Reader, remember this was a large dog.
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Basor, the trader, would not cook for me. He said a man that ate as much as I did would have to do his own cooking. So one day while alone, I made up my mind to conquer my hunger. I cooked a good square meal for three of us, waited a little while for the others then sat down and ate the whole of it. I did not feel hungry again for several days. After getting this difficulty over, I told the Indians I would visit their camp and have a talk with them. A time was appointed, and Tabby, the chief, sent a man and horse for me. The camp was some eight miles from the station. When I reached their camp, there were about fifty of the principal man of the tribe present. "Captain Joe," of Thistle valley, was there also. I always considered him like some of our political white men, not very reliable.
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I was informed by Joe that I could talk. I spoke to them about half an hour, telling them that notwithstanding all the trouble and war, the good Mormons were still their friends; that Brigham had always desired peace and was sorry that any of his people wanted to fight the Indians. After saying what I thought was safe, for I knew the delicacy of the subject, as some of the Indians had been killed by such as professed to be Mormons, and I was careful not to push the subject too far in my first attempt, I desired to hear Tabby talk.
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I knew he was much respected by his people, also that he was not inclined to war, but had accepted the situation and let things run, neither taking an active part in killing and stealing, nor making any great effort to stop the war. He was very sore about the killing of his half brother while a prisoner. I, myself, considered this somewhat treacherous on the part of those who did it.
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Capt. Joe seemed to think he must do all the talking for the Indians. No one else spoke. Joe urged me to say more. I told him I wanted to hear Tabby. The old fellow laid down, as much as to say, "I will not take part in this." The act nettled me considerably, and I told Joe I would not talk unless Tabby did. Tabby grunted out that he was an old man, and chief; that Joe was a little captain and young, and was good enough to talk to me. This made me mad. I got up and told Tabby that I was more of a man than he or any of his men ever were; that they had been born and raised in Uintah, and none of them had ever been brave or strong enough to cross the snow mountains, but had laid there shut up winter after winter like women; that I had done what none of them could do, and had done it to keep my word with them; that they had agreed if I would be their friend and tell "Washington" their grievances that they would listen to me and make peace.
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When I got through, Tabby got up and said, "You talk big for a boy. I know you have strong legs and a good belly, for I have seen you eat. But I want to know where your grey hairs are, that give wisdom. You had better wait a few years before you talk." I really felt small under this sarcasm. He further said, "You have spoke about the Indians stealing from the Mormons. I can answer that by saying some of the Mormon bishops helped the agents to steal what 'Washington' sends us. While some of Brigham's bishops steal, I do not. Neither does Tom and many others; but we have stayed at home and worked and hunted. It is the bad Indians that will not listen to me that steal." He then named some twelve or fourteen present whom he said stole from the Mormons and made the trouble.
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He continued, "I have told them it is wrong; now you may talk to them and make them good if you can. I am not bad and do not steal, so you do not need to talk to me."
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I held several meetings and cultivated on every opportunity the personal friendship of the Indians, especially the raiders, talking kindly to them and gaining their confidence and good-will. At length, one night, the bad Indians were induced to talk. They related many things about their raids; each in turn told something of his experience, entering into details. How they felt, and giving the causes of their ill-feelings. Each taking his turn in talking, said that hunger often caused them to go on raids to get cattle to eat, always making the statement that the agents stole what "Washington" sent them; that Mormons helped the agents to steal; that the Sanpete Mormons had stolen their country and fenced it up. The lands that their fathers had given them had been taken for wheat fields. When they asked the Mormons for some of the bread raised on their lands, and beef fed on their grass, the Mormons insulted them, calling them dogs and other bad names. They said when the Mormons stole big fields and got rich, other Mormons, who were poor, had to buy the land from them, they were not allowed to steal it from the first owners, the same as the first Mormons stole it from the Indians.
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I have often wondered how these statements will be answered. They are still open. I never could answer them like many other propositions I have had to meet while laboring among the Indians. I have had to give it up acknowledging that they had been wronged. All I could do was to get their hearts set right and then teach them magnanimity.
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Some made jeer at this idea, but I have found more nobility of character among the Indians than what is common among many whites, even Mormons included.
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In explanation of their accusing some of the Mormon Bishops of helping to rob them, it had been told to them how the agents managed to get certain ones to sign false vouchers for flour and beef. Whether this was true or not the Indians fully believed that it was. I found evidence is afterwards that at least looked like their accusations were well founded. All who are acquainted with Indian character know that a trader who deals liberally with the natives can hold a great influence over them. The Utes were great traders at that time, having a great many skins and furs to barter. They urged me to come and trade with them. This could only be done by buying out the trader and getting the appointment. So I bought out the trader, conditionally, with the hopes of getting the post tradership. In this I failed.
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The friendship of the agent was only politic for the time being. His endeavors to keep me out of the situation were successful. Mine to bring about a permanent peace and get the Indians better provided for were also successful, probably much more so than if I had been allowed the trader's position.
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After visiting with the Indians and gaining considerable influence over them, getting them to promise peace, provided the Mormons would be friendly again, I commenced preparing for my return home. The Indians wanted me to go back and talk to the Mormons and see positively what they said and how they felt, especially in Sanpete valley, where the war had been the worst. They wanted to be assured that the Mormons would not kill them, provided they came in to visit and trade as in former times. I agreed to find out and return again and see them, and bring a few more things they wanted.
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There were two men, John Sessions and David Boyce, at the agency that wished to come in with me. We brought in five hundred pounds of buckskins. This, with our provisions and bedding, made about seven hundred pounds. On this trip the snow had settled and we moved along all right. The dog hauled most of the time two hundred pounds. We thought this a big load, but I afterwards learned what a load was for a large dog.
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In justice to my Indian friends, and one in particular, I will relate one incident. Just before leaving, an Indian, Toquana, came to me and asked me if I did not want a horse. I told him that I had finished trading and had nothing to buy a horse with, and that I did not particularly need one as we would run the sled out on wheels until we struck snow, then we could haul it very well.
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His reply was, "I do not want to sell you a horse. You are a friend, and are doing hard work for our good. I want you to live and keep strong; I do not want you to wear out. I know your legs are good, and I want you to keep them good to go over the deep snow where a horse cannot go. I have got a good, gentle horse that knows how to work; he is strong, can go through snow up to his breast. You take him, let him pull your sled just as long as he possibly can, then maybe you can find some place on the hill side where the snow is not deep; turn him out and if he lives I will get him, and it will be all right; if he dies, he will die mine, and I will know he died to help my friend, and that will be all right. I do not want anything at all, no presents or anything. I want to do this because I feel like doing it."
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I took his horse, work him about eighty miles and then turned him on good grass where there was but little snow.
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CHAPTER XXX.
Another Trip to Uintah Agency--Confidence of the Indians--My |
| Return to Salt Lake City--Call On Secretary Delano--G. W.
Dodge Visits the Indians as a Peace Commissioner--Speech
of Chief Douglas--Treaty with Grass Valley Indians
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ON MY arrival in Salt Lake City and after disposing of my furs and skins, I made arrangements for the money to pay the trader, George Basor, for his stock of buckskins, amounting to some two thousand dollars. The arrangement was to close the bargain by a certain date, provided the purchase was made.
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I found the dog so useful in pulling a sled that I determined to get hold of some more large dogs and train them. To do this I would be delayed a few days; so I got David Boyce, who had just come in with me, to take Ring, the old dog, with a sled load of one hundred and fifty pounds, and a $2000.00 check and make the trip alone. Boyce, traveling on Norwegian snow-runners, made the trip through in good time. This trip of Boyce's I consider one of the most heroic of any, as he traveled alone one hundred and fifty miles, passing over twenty feet of snow, with no one but the faithful dog for company.
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On getting my dogs, four in number, trained with sleds for each, I took my son Wiley, thirteen years of age, and started again for Uintah, taking about four hundred pounds of goods for the Indians. I was careful to take a good supply of provisions on this trip. I hired a young man from Heber City, by the name of Hickins, to go with us. We made good time over the mountains. Our dogs behaved tolerably well, as I had trained them before starting.
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Boyce, who went through with the express, found the horse, loaned by Toquana, all right. He packed the goods on him, after getting to hard ground, went on to the agency, transacted the business, got a yoke of cattle and a light wagon, and came out and met us at the snow line. So everything went off smoothly on this trip. On my arrival at the agency, I found it would be impossible for me to get the trader's position and be true to the Indians. What I had started to do for them would make the agent my enemy, so I concluded to stick to the peace-making, let it cost what it might.
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On getting the Indians together and talking to them, we came to a full understanding and agreement. By this time they had come to believe in and trust me implicitly. I agreed to procure all the evidence I could in regard to irregularities on the part of the agents. Such evidence I had been gathering up for some time, to make a report to Washington in their behalf, and do all I could to get them their rights. There was not much provisions at the agency at this time for the Indians. Only a few sacks of flour. I assured them that if they would come in and visit the Mormons, that they would be glad and would not fight them, but would treat them as friends, as was the custom before the war.
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This finally was agreed upon. I knew that some move of importance, sufficient to cause the government to take notice, had to be made. So it was arranged that all the Indians should leave the reservation and refuse to return until they were furnished with supplies, and a better system of provisioning them devised. They hated the agent as he had acted very insultingly to some of them. They urged hard that I would send in evidence of his wrong-doing, and get him removed. I told them that maybe they would get a worse one, but they insisted that there was no danger.
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I did not agree with the idea of the Indians. The present agent had not been long in position, and from what I knew and had learned about former agents, he was not nearly so bad as some of his predecessors. In fact I believed him capable of making a very good agent when once posted on the duties of his office.
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My interests were entirely centered on doing the best for the Indians I possibly could, also that the people would be relieved from their depredations.
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The furs and skins that I had bought from the old trader amounted to some twenty odd hundred pounds. The ground was now bare for some seventy-five miles; the snow being still deep for about the same distance. I bought a wagon and team from the trader, loaded all up and pulled up to the snow region, where we turned the team out, loaded up our dog sleds and, by making an average of three return trips, moved our whole load six miles each day. Our dogs were fed mostly on beaver meat, caught by trapping in the streams along the route.
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On nearing Provo valley I went ahead to get teams to come out and meet the dog train a few miles from Heber City. It took two light wagons to contain our load. We made the trip down Provo canyon and camped one night near American Fork. I had been from home longer than was expected; there were no means of communication and I felt very anxious to get home as I believed my family would be uneasy about me.
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At that time the terminals of the Utah Central was at Draperville. I started out early in the morning on foot to make the train by 8 o'clock, some eight miles distant. I had been working on snow shoes for most of the winter; I was now on good dry road and was wearing Indian moccasins. I was feeling well and in good trim, so I had but little fears of making the distance in time.
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After traveling a short distance I heard a wagon approaching. On looking around I recognized a gentleman who had always professed great friendship and interest in my labors among the Indians. It occurred to me that I would see if he would ask me to ride without my making the request. He drove by without turning his head. I made up my mind that although he was driving a nice fine traveling team, to beat him into the station. This I did. He drove quite fast, but I kept in sight of him all the way, passing the team about a mile before reaching the station.
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As I went by he spoke to me, saying he had not recognized me before. I replied that I was in a hurry and could not stop. One of his horses suddenly failed, causing them to halt. This friend (?) probably never passed a footman afterwards without thinking of the circumstance.
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The reader will now have to make a little allowance, as I am writing entirely from memory, and there was so much crowding upon me at this time, I will have to go ahead and write as it comes to my mind, regardless of dates. I have heretofore been able to place incidents in regular order tolerably well; possibly I may, in writing the next few months' history, get a little mixed as to which first occurred, but not as to facts.
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Soon after my arrival in Salt Lake City I called on Governor Woods and told him something about the condition of affairs at the Uintah agency, informing him that, owing to the fact that there was no flour or other provisions at the agency, it was the intention of the Indians to leave there. Mr. Woods agreed to assist me in bringing the matter before the proper department. My intention was to visit Washington to see in person the Secretary of the interior, in behalf of the Utes; I had sufficient evidence to show cause for complaint. Advising and persuading the Indians to leave the agency was entirely my own work; I was satisfied that nothing would be done unless some move was made worth noticing.
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I had, as before stated, visited the people in Sanpete county and got their consent for the Indians to come in. The Indians were now on the road and would soon be located in Thistle Valley, where they had agreed to stop. I was to meet them there as soon as they were in, get things in shape and then, if necessary, go to Washington. About the time the Indians got in Secretary Delano arrived in Salt Lake City, passing through on a visit. Seeing his name among the hotel arrivals, I called to see him and made my business known. He treated me with much respect, making many inquiries about Indians and Indian agents in general, admitting that the government had more trouble with them than any other officers in the service, and asked me what I thought was the reason of this. I said the wages were too small; that no man could support himself, especially in an expensive place such as agents generally had to occupy, on the pittance the government allowed them. This often forced them into dishonest speculations. Mr. Delano admitted that my explanations looked reasonable. After listening to what I had to say for the Indians, he said if I could bring him such testimonials from some of the government officials as would warrant him in noticing me as an honorable man he would listen to and cause action to be taken on my report. I told him about my conversation with Governor Woods and his seeming interest in the welfare of the Indians. Mr. Delano sent for Governor Woods. In the meantime I went to a prominent lawyer, Mr. R----n, whom I knew to have much influence with the officials, and paid him a liberal fee to make out the necessary testimonial and get the needed endorsers. This did not require much time. I presented my papers to Secretary Delano. He said he would have the matter investigated and advised me to see Mr. G. W. Dodge, who had lately been appointed special agent for Utah and Nevada, and report to him and inform him of the condition of affairs.
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What I called on Mr. Dodge he seemed much interested and agreed to go to Sanpete Valley and visit the Utes on their arrival, promising me that he would see that they were cared for. I agreed to meet him there. Accordingly, when the Indians were encamped in Thistle Valley, not long after my arrival in Salt Lake City, I went to Fairview, where I met Mr. Dodge. A party of us accompanied him to the Indian camp, some fourteen miles distant. Several hundred Indians were there. This was quite a move. For several years most of the Indians had been at war, stealing, robbing and killing. Now they were all in to visit their old acquaintances as friends. Many of the settlers had seen their friends and kindred killed by these same Indians. If any mishap had occurred I would have borne the blame, as I had been instrumental in bringing this move about.
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On arriving at the camp Mr. Dodge seemed a little lost. It was the first Indian camp he had ever visited. He professed great friendship. The Indians had to me: "He talks good, but his eyes have dirt in them."
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A number of the leading citizens of Fairview and Mt. Pleasant went over. The meeting with the Indians was friendly. Each party really desired peace. Mr. Dodge appointed a meeting to take place in Fairview next day, where he desired to see all the chiefs and have a big talk with them. There were some thirty of the principal Indians came over. Douglas, of the White river Utes, who spoke English, being at the head.
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Mr. Dodge had employed several interpreters to assist in the talk. He wished to be fully understood. For some cause he seemed to rather slight me as interpreter; so when the meeting was opened Mr. Dodge commenced and made quite a speech, and called on one of his interpreters to explain what he had said and invited the Indians to reply. The speech was interpreted, but the Indians said nothing. Then another speech was made and another interpreter explained with the same results.
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Finally, Mr. Dodge was determined to make an impression. He began and told the Indians of his love for the red man; and of his big heart that swelled so large that all the ties of home and friends could not hold it back, but it had grown in him till it had reached clear out to the wilds of the Rocky Mountains, penetrating into the camps of the much abused natives; that he was here as their friend, sent here by "Washington" to see that all their rights were respected and grievances redressed.
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Still there was no answer from the Indians. Mr. Dodge was now almost exhausted. The Indians recognized me as their representative and were intent on silence until I was noticed. Finally I said to Mr. Dodge: "With your permission I will talk a little to the chiefs present. I have been acting as their friend and I think they will talk if I request them to."
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He said he would like to hear what the principal men had to say. I told the Indians to explain to Mr. Dodge why they had left the agency and what their desires were. Several then spoke in turn, recounting how they had been defrauded out of the government appropriations; that if they could have their rights they could live in peace. Douglas, being the last speaker, did not use an interpreter. He said: "The man from 'Washington' talks good and makes good promises, and I hope it is all true, but I am afraid it will all be a lie pretty soon. 'Washington' has sent to us a heap of men. All of them talk good when they first come but in two or three moons, most of their talk proves lies. Some in two moons, some in three, some in six. One man's talk was good for one snow; then it was a lie, same as the others. This man here now, looks like the man who lasted two moons. Maybe the talk is all good, but I think in two moons may be it will be all lies. I know Washington means to be good to us. His heart is good, most too good. He has many hungry man come to him for something to eat; they have slim faces and long beards and look hungry; and they cry and tell Washington they have nothing to eat. Then Washington gets tired of their crying and makes them agents and sends them out here, and they take all Washington sends us. I don't think this is right. They ought to send men who are not so poor and starved, then they would not take our flour and we would have plenty."
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This is Douglas's speech in substance. Mr. Dodge did not reply farther than to say he would see to their wants.
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From Sanpete we went down to visit the Indians in Grass Valley. They had been stealing had taken quite a band of horses lately. They were not of the Uintah tribe. On visiting them, a treaty was made, the agent agreeing to make them some presents. The Indians agreed to bring back the horses.
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I knew very well that no treaty would be considered by the Indians until the goods promised were delivered. I told Mr. Dodge so. He said the government had not furnished him with any goods, neither would they get any till he could send to New York for them. I told him I had goods along with me that he could have. Some $350.00 worth. He said he was not authorized to pay more than New York prices, and freight. I replied, "You can take mine now, and when you find what New York prices are, you can pay me."
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He took my goods, enough to ratify the treaty. The Indians kept their contract to bring in the horses, but I do not know whether Mr. Dodge ever learned what New York prices were or not.
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CHAPTER XXXI.
Whisky Sold to the Indians--I Forbid the Traffic--Douglas and |
| his Band Demand an Order for Fire-Water--They Threaten
to Kill me--My Trick on them for Threatening me--Mr.
Dodge Orders the Indians Back to the Reservation--They
Refuse to go--Trouble Brewing--Peaceable Settlement
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DURING the time the Indians were in Thistle valley, there were a number of persons mean enough to sell them whisky. This was a dangerous business, and I did all in my power to stop it.
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After returning from Grass valley, I camped near the Indians in Thistle. I also visited the Sanpete settlements and watched the moves and did what I could to keep peace. There were quite a number opposed to the Indians being around and expressed themselves quite freely; but the greater portion of the people were desirous of peace. The whisky selling was the great evil, likely to bring on trouble at any time. Finally, through threatening the whisky sellers with prosecution, I succeeded in frightening them off, all except one man at Moroni, who still had not given up the business. The Douglas and some fifteen others obtain whisky from this rascal, sufficient to get well started on a drunk, then came on to Fairview, went to where they had been in the habit of getting whisky and wanted more. Here they were told by D. S. that Jones had stopped him selling whisky and that none could be had without a written order from him.
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The Indians had just enough to fire them up for more, so they struck for my camp, twelve miles distant, in full charge. No one was with me but my son Wiley, then about thirteen years of age. Soon I was charged upon by three or four drunken Indians, demanding of me that I should give them an order for whisky. I told them I would not. One Indian had a pencil and paper. He offered it to me, saying: "You must now write, or we will kill you." Still I refused. Others were now arriving. Soon the whole crowd was upon me; all were excited and just drunk enough to be mean.
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I told my son to sit still; not to move or say a word. This he did, not seeming to notice what was going on. Many times it looked as though my time had come, for numerous guns were aimed at me at different times, seemingly with the full intention of pulling the trigger. When one Indian would fail to shoot, another would crowd in with his gun aimed at me, saying, "I will shoot if you don't write." Many of them took hold of my hand and tried to make me write, but I was determined that I would not.
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Finally, I became so overcome and weary with the excitement and effort to resist their demand, that I almost became indifferent to life. It really looked as though I might get shot. So I begged them to be still a minute and hear me; then, if they wanted to, they could kill me. All became quiet. I told them that I had always been their friend and was now working for their good; referred to the hard trips across the snow mountains to do them good, and that I would still like to live, as I had not finished the work I was doing for them. And it was as their friend that I had forbidden anyone selling them whisky, because it made them fools and bad men--so much so that they were now abusing me, the best friend they had; that I had agreed with God to be their friend and never shed any of their blood; and that I would die before I would sign the papers, and if they killed me God would not be their friend.
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I was now so exhausted and sleepy that I could scarcely keep awake, although it was mid-day. So I told the Indians I was tired and would lie down and go to sleep, and if they were determined to kill me to wait till I was asleep, then put their guns close to my head, so I would not suffer much, telling them I asked this as their friend. I spread my blankets on the ground, laid down and I am sure it was not more than two minutes till I was sound asleep. My little son still sat silent. After sleeping quite a while I felt someone pulling at my foot. On looking up I discovered that most of the Indians were lying around me asleep. My son was also sound asleep. The Indian pulling at me asked me to get up and sell him something he wanted. I told him I was too sick to get up. He insisted, but I was determined to be sick. Soon others tried to rouse me, but I knew as long as I lay in bed I was all right. Finally all the Indians left. I now wakened Wiley and asked him about how the Indians acted when I went to sleep. He said that one after another came near and looked at me without saying a word. Then they all laid down around me and went to sleep; that finally he got sleepy and also laid down.
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I concluded to play them a little game for this, for I knew when sober the Indians were faithful to me, and I did not want another experience of this kind. Widely watched, and whenever an Indian approached I would cover up--sick. We had a lot of trade, but I was too sick to do anything. When they wanted to know what ailed me I told them my heart was sick; that it felt so bad I could do nothing. This continued day after day till the Indians became really uneasy, for fear I would die. Finally, Tabby and others came and made presents of buckskins and beavers and begged me to forgive the Indians who had threatened me, saying that if I would live and be their friend they never would say whisky to me again. And if they ever got drunk they would go away to the mountains and not come near me. I finally got well, much to their joy. To show the danger I was in, a few days after this affair two Indians were killed in a drunken row among themselves.
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Soon after returning to the city Mr. Dodge seemed to change his tactics. He informed me that it was his intention to order the Indians back to the reservation at once; and that he would make me no promises whatever. I told him the Indians expected something as there was nothing at the reservation when they left except a little flour. The most of the Indians from Uintah were now camped near Nephi. Mr. Dodge went out there and preemptorily ordered them back to the agency.
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Tabby told him they would not go back until there was something sent with them as they would as soon die fighting as to starve. The Indians had agreed with me that they would not fight but would hold out as long as they could, but would give up and go back if pressed. I had been forbidden to go among the Indians any more under penalty of arrest for inducing the Indians to leave the reservation. I began to feel a little uneasy when I heard now Tabby had talked, that he had forgotten his promise to me. I tried to get permission to go and see the Indians, offering to guarantee that they would go back peaceably if I could have a talk with them, but was still refused the privilege.
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The condition of affairs was telegraphed to Washington. Much excitement prevailed. Many persons blamed me for getting the Indians into the settlements, and some favored their being whipped back. A good many sensational stories came from Sanpete, the Indians being accused of many things they did not do. The telegraph operator of one of the settlements was knocked in the head by some one. This was laid to the Indians. It afterwards proved to be a white man that committed the deed.
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I was working continually to counteract the stories for I had faith in the Indians. The only thing I dreaded was the selling of whisky to the Indians by some of the settlers. A drunken Indian is dangerous under any circumstances. Finally a commission arrived from Washington to inquire into the affair. I had already offered some affidavits I had, to Mr. Dodge, to prove some things against the management of the agent at Uintah, but he had not taken them from me. Mr. Dodge fully expected that I would offer these in evidence before the commission, but I had become convinced that the agent was a better man than the one who had been appointed to superintend affairs; so I told Mr. Dodge that I had concluded to say nothing more about the agent.
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He flew into a terrible rage, and said I would have to go ahead; that I could not back out as he had made a contract, with a Mr. Popper for several hundred beef cattle that were then being sent to the agency for the Indians; and that unless the agent was prosecuted and turned out, the government would not sustain him in what he had done, and that if I did not go ahead, I would be prosecuted for libel. I asked him what he would make out of it, and told him if I had said anything against the agent I would apologize for it, and that I did not intend to interfere in the agent's business any more.
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I had learned enough to know that the Indians would get the cattle, but Charles Popper had quite a time getting his pay for them, but finally did.
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The superintendent was now down on me fully and completely. So when the commission met in his office, General Morrow being present (I was watching all the moves continually), I walked in. Mr. Dodge ordered me out. I replied that I was an interested party; that I represented the Indians and did not intend to go out: that there was a sign outside the door which allowed me, as an American citizen, to walk in, and that my business was such as warranted my coming in. General Morrow said he would like to have me stay, so permission was given me to remain.
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The question being considered was whether the Indians should be induced to return to the reservation by telling them they were to have plenty of provisions or whether an order should be given the military commander to force them back with arms without any promise being made them. I made the best fight I could in behalf of the Indians, but I said nothing against the agent at the reservation. Dodge could not, as he had no evidence in his possession, so the agent was not brought into question.
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Mr. Dodge was very angry and desired war, and worked until he won, getting an order issued to General Morrow to take his troops and drive the Indians back. Now, some might think I had done all I could, but I was determined not to give up. So on going out into the street I asked General Morrow if I could talk to him. He said, "No, I have no time. I have to go and whip these d----d Indians back to the reservation." Still I did not give up. I felt almost desperate, for if the Indians had resisted, it would have reflected on me for getting them away from the agency. My intention was, if necessary, to go and see them and take the consequences.
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General Morrow and some other officers mounted their horses and started for camp. He was hardly in his quarters before I was there. I had been to his house before and been introduced to his wife. When I called, the General treated me pleasantly and asked what he could do for me. I told him I had called to see his wife; that I had wanted to get her to help me to try and persuade him not to make war on the Indians if it could possibly be avoided. I believe General Morrow thought me a little crazy. Finally he promised me that he would not fire a gun until I had the privilege of going and talking to the Indians. I now felt satisfied for I knew that they would listen to me, as they had pledged themselves to take my advice. It was not the intention of Mr. Dodge to let the Indians know that anything would be sent immediately to the agency; but as I had learned about the beef cattle I intended informing them.
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I went and talked with D. B. Huntington. He was pretty well posted on what I was doing and was in sympathy with me. He was a good interpreter and was not known by Mr. Dodge. Dimick went out and explained my situation to the Indians, that I had been forbidden by Mr. Dodge to visit them; that I did not want them to resist but to listen to General Morrow and go back to the agency peaceably. The Indians met at Springville, where General Morrow listened to them. I was not present but kept track of all the moves. The Indians were perfectly willing now to return and made no offer of resistance. Several hundred sacks of flour as well as the beef cattle mentioned, were sent out. The Indians were now happy. So far my aims were accomplished. Peace had been made and confirmed between the white people and hostile Utes. Government had taken notice of their condition, and provisions had been sent. All this had been done on the stir I had been the means of making.
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The agent at Uintah was not consulted and nothing had been done in his name or by his authority; neither was he in any way implicated, as not one word of testimony stood against him. So he ignored the cattle purchased, came in and bought supplies, and went on as usual with his agency business. Mr. Dodge was censured and dismissed from office for getting up all the trouble.
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There were several attempts made to get some papers I had in my possession, but I kept them for future use, if needed. I never have heard of any material trouble between the Mormons and Utes since that time. The agent took hold in good shape and the Indians afterward spoke well of him. During this whole business I worked without counsel or advice from any one, except the advice first given by G. A. Smith. I acted as a trader most of the time, but my main business was to establish peace. It cost considerable time and money, and when I got through there was a debt of some $1200.00 against me at Z. C. M. I. Brother Brigham ordered the account sent to him for settlement.
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Several years after this, whilst living in Arizona, I received a letter from a former friend of the agent, asking me for the papers I had, saying that with them and what they had, they thought they could make a case against this same agent. I replied to them that if they had to go back so far for evidence it was clear to me that the agent was doing pretty well; that I had not heard of the Indians complaining of late years and that I had no papers for them. So long as the Indians were satisfied I cared nothing for disappointed speculators.
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CHAPTER XXXII.
The Killing of an Indian near Fairview--His Friends Visit me |
| I Advise them to keep the Peace and they do so
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AFTER the Indian troubles were settled I was advised to move to Sanpete valley to try and keep an influence for peace with the whites as well as the Utes. The authorities of Sanpete County, together with the greater portion of the people approved of my labors, and were glad that peace was now made, whilst some of the more captious found fault and used their influence to bring about a collision hoping thereby to get the Indians killed by sending the troops upon them. I believed then and still do that some things laid to the Indians was the work of white men and designed for effect.
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In justice to the Indian side of the question, I will say that most of the annoyance was done by drunken Indians, a party of which attacked the herd boys coming into Fairview, killing one of them. This was supposed to be a personal affair as these same Indians passed other boys about the same time without molesting them.
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Some time after peace had been considered fully established an Indian was murdered in cold blood by a party of whites going out after wood from Fairview. The body was covered up but was finally discovered by the Indians. The killing was cowardly in the extreme, and more treacherous than anything I ever remember done by the Indians. The exact number I have forgotten, but some six or eight young men were going out to the cedars for wood. They met a lone Indian coming in from Thistle Valley on his way to Fairview. At that time this was nothing unusual. The wood haulers spoke friendly to the Indian, and asked him to go with them into the cedars, and as soon as they loaded up he could ride into town with them. The Indian had no suspicion of anything wrong, and I did not believe the wood haulers at first thought of killing him. He went out into the cedars, staying around while the loading was going on. After a while someone suggested that it would be a good chance to kill the "d----d Indian" and hide him away, others assented. So much was said that the Indian, who understood some of their talk, became uneasy and started to leave. At this one of the party shot him. All being armed with pistols now took part and, as the Indian ran, the whole party fired at and succeeded in killing him. They buried him among the cedars, covering him mainly with brush.
|
When the Indians discovered his body they came to me feeling very badly. The Indians really desired peace. The murdered Indian in fact belonged to a band that never had been of the worst. I was now living in Fairview. I was greatly mortified and scarcely knew how to answer, for I was aware it would be natural for the Indians to seek blood for blood, and it was a little surprise to me that they stopped to consider, but as they had come to me I took courage and commenced talking, reciting a great deal of the Indian history from the earliest settling of Utah, acknowledging that the first blood shed was that of an Indian on the Provo bottom, also admitting that they had often been wronged; referred to the hard labor that I had done in crossing the snow mountains, and how I had got them beef and flour and made good peace between them and the Mormons, and how true the Indians had been to me, and how sick my heart now was that this had occurred.
|
I was not acting, for it was a cruel thing, besides being so senseless. Finally, when I had got the Indians to feel that I fully sympathized with them, I said to them, "Some one has to be the last or this killing will never cease. Now as some persons, without cause, have killed one of your people. If you kill a Mormon to pay for it, won't some bad Mormon kill another Indian? Then when am I ever to see good peace? If you will pass this by and let this be the last, I don't believe there will be any more killing; for when the Mormons know that in Indian was last killed they will be ashamed, and the men who killed your friend will be despised by all good people."
|
At last these Indians consented and agreed not to kill anyone in retaliation. I have never heard of their breaking this promise. I would ask those who are so down on the "treacherous Indians" to think of this.
|
My labors with the Utes were now almost ended. I had already been asked to get ready to go to Mexico on a mission. An account of which will be given in subsequent chapters.
|
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|
|
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The Salt Lake City Election in 1874--Deputy Marshalls Attempt |
| to Run Things--Mayor Wells' Order--The Mob Dispersed--
Captain Burt and his Men Make Some Sore Heads
|
|
ONE item of home history that I took a small part in I will mention. At the August election of city officers of 1874 there was an attempt made by the U.S. marshal to control the polls. This was disputed by the municipal officers. Maxwell, the U.S. marshal, had a large number of deputies sworn in. Milton Orr was at that time the regular deputy and took the active control of the special deputies this election occurred soon after the passage of the Poland Bill.
|
The liberals were on their "high heels" and believed that they had now the right and power to put down Mormon rule in Salt Lake City. During the day there was continued contention who should act as police or protectors of the polls. The marshals interfered continually, and when the police attempted to do their duty they were arrested by the deputies and taken before the U.S. Commissioner and put under bonds. Several times during the day the spirit of lawlessness ran so high that a collision seemed inevitable. The police acted with great coolness and forbearance, only working to keep the polls unobstructed, but making no resistance when insulted or arrested, neither acting against the rioters so long as they kept clear of the polls. Many times during the day men would yell out that the Mormons had run this country as long as they could, that their day was done, boasting, swearing and defying the police to help themselves. This was immediately in front of the City Hall, some of the mob even crowding into the hallway.
|
Late in the afternoon the mob became so aggressive and the polls so obstructed that people wishing to vote could not get in. The marshals headed this obstruction. The police seemingly had no power to keep order. Captain Burt sent word to Mayor Wells asking for instructions. Mayor Wells soon appeared on the ground and managed to work his way through the crowd and get into the door of the polling room. The regular police were mostly on the inside of the city hall at that time. The mayor commanded the crowd to disperse and leave the entrance clear. This he uttered by authority of his office. They were possibly two hundred persons in the crowd. The room was full and the doors completely blocked and the sidewalk crowded. Many were in the street and more coming, cursing and yelling. Some of the leaders, now more or less intoxicated, when the order was given to disperse, instead of obeying, made an attack on the mayor. They were led by Milton Orr, who seized hold of Mr. Wells and attempted to drag him from his position. Mayor Wells resisted this move. Several others now caught hold of him, tearing his clothes.
|
I was just at the outer side of the sidewalk in company with George Crismon. As we saw this violent move against the mayor we started through the crowd, George taking the lead. And I always remembered his expertness in opening a way, for we were soon on hand. The noise was so terrific that I had to put my mouth close to Mr. Wells's ear. I asked him which way he wished to go. The jam was on both sides of him. I naturally supposed he wanted to get away, for the mob seemed to want to rend him in pieces and were doing their best to accomplish it.
|
Brother Wells answered, "I do not want to go either way. I shall stay here if I can; you help me to keep my place."
|
Brother Crismon did all he could to keep the mob off. I caught Brother Wells around the waist and held him against those pulling at him. His clothes were badly torn in the scuffle.
|
While this was going on, Brother Andrew Smith, of the police force, managed to get near us from the inside. He called to me to push Brother Wells to him.
|
I said, "He don't want to come in."
|
Brother Smith said, "Never mind." At the same time reaching and getting hold of Brother Wells, telling me to shove him in. This we did. I always believed that Mayor Wells would have died before he would have given way to the mob of his own free will.
|
As the mayor went in the door was shut and I was crowded outside with the mob. I now felt quite small, jammed into the doorway, all alone with the mob. I could see no friend near me, so I kept very quiet. Soon Mayor Wells appeared on the balcony of the court house. He looked rather dilapidated, but in a clear, steady voice commanded the rioters to disperse. At this they only shouted the louder, cursing and defying his authority. He then turned to Captain Burt and said, in substance: "Captain Burt, disperse this mob and clear the side-walk of obstruction." The mob had given way from just in front of the hall door, as the balcony was immediately over it and those under the balcony had crowded out so as to get a view of the mayor.
|
In a moment after the order was given Captain Burt stepped out onto the side-walk in front of the hall door, followed by a few regular police. Addressing the crowd immediately in front of the polling room, he commanded them to disperse.
|
Instead of obeying the order, the mob, with a howl of defiance, rushed at the captain, who stood with his arms folded. I was looking from a slight elevation, being on the doorstep, and powerless to do anything but watch, so that what I am writing is just as I saw it. As the mob rushed at Captain Burt he let drive with his police club; instantly others of the police pitched in. I have seen a good many knock-downs, but men felt as fast for a short time as I ever saw them. Most of them were U.S. marshals. The police were making a clearing toward the door where I was jammed in. The mob almost instantly gave way. They were so taken by surprise at seeing their leaders falling that many who were seemingly brave as lions a minute before took to their heels and ran away. During all this not a shot was fired. So rapid and thorough was the work of the police that I was a little afraid of getting hit myself and called out to Capt. Burt to set 'em up. One fellow that was knocked down fell against me as I was getting out.
|
All the police were arrested and brought to trial before the commissioners, but were cleared. There were many sore heads but no one killed. The man's name who did the hardest hitting that day never came up, and without his permission I will not mention it.
|
Sometimes when I see the Latter-day Saints insulted, accused and put upon by their enemies as they now are in the year 1889, I think of the good old days when we did not bear as we do today. Especially when it is put forth as though we are cowed and dare not say our souls are our own. Often when noticing some of the young Mormons of today who are toadying to the Gentiles and listening to their flattery, I cannot help but contrast their spindle-legged, dudish build, their supercilious looks, their effort to ape the infidelity of the day, etc., with the sturdy, faithful boys who went forth in the defence of their fathers in the days of Echo Canyon, and many other duties of the early days. Now why is this? There is too much luxury, indolence and false education. Many suppose that education consists in conjugating verbs. My grammar says, "Man is a verb--that is, man is made to do, and grammar says a verb is a word to do." Hence, man should be a verb and not a worthless, do-nothing noun--a name of a thing.
|
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|
|
CHAPTER XXXIV.
President Young Requests Brother Brizzee and Myself to Prepare |
| for a Mission to Mexico--Mileton G. Trejo Joins the Church
--His Remarkable Conversion--I Report to President Young
that I am Ready--One Hundred Pages of the Book of
Mormon Translated into Spanish and Printed
|
|
According to the request made by President Young I bought a lot and had a good, comfortable house built in Fairview, Sanpete Co., expecting to make that my future home. The house was not yet complete when I was called upon by Henry Brizzee, about June, 1874, who told me that President Young wished to see him and me at his office to talk with us about a mission to Mexico, saying that President Young understood that we spoke the Spanish language. I had expected this call to come some time. I had both desired and dreaded the mission. My desire was from a sense of duty. My dread was owing to the power of Catholicism that I had seen prevail in that land, while living there from 1847 to 1850.
|
At the that time no man dared to the pass in front of a church without raising his hat. Anyone doing so was most sure to be pelted with stones with the possibility of having his head broken. A priest passing along the street demanded the uncovering of the head by all who met him. A person's life was in danger unless acting promptly in conformity with all these customs. To offer a word against their religion would be almost certain death.
|
That the country had been revolutionized and religious freedom declared I had not learned. I only remembered what I had seen. I felt a dread that tried me severely while on my way to the office; but before arriving I had formed the resolution to "face the music." My reflections were: This mission has to be commenced by someone and if it is necessary for the extreme sacrifice to be made, just as well to be me as anyone else.
|
On meeting President Young, he told us that the time had come to prepare for the introduction of the gospel into Mexico; that there were millions of the descendants of Nephi in the land, and that we were under obligations to visit them. Asked us if we were willing to prepare for a mission. We told him we were. Nothing very definite was arranged at the time. Brother Young said he would like to have some extracts from the Book of Mormon translated to send to the people of Mexico; advised us to get our private affairs arranged, also to study up our Spanish and prepare ourselves for translating and report to him, and when the proper time came and all was ready he would let us know. Some suggestion was made about visiting the City of Mexico as travelers and feel our way among the people.
|
Brother Brizzee and I visited together often and talked about the work before us. We began to study and prepare for translating. My own feelings were that it would require considerable study, although I understood Spanish quite well. Still to translate for publication required a more thorough scholarship than either of us possessed. I often thought how good it would be to have a native Spaniard to help us.
|
Some few months after the notice to get ready, Brother Brizzee called at my house, accompanied by a stranger whom he introduced as Mileton G. Trejo, a Spanish gentleman from the Philippine Islands and was an author and a traveler. After conversing for some time with the gentleman I became hopeful that he was the one needed to assist in the translation, which afterwards proved to be the case. Se�or Trejo told me that he had been induced to come and visit the Mormon people partly through a dream. His account, to the best of my recollection, was that while discussing religion with a brother officer of the Spanish army when stationed on the Philippine Islands, he remarked that he believed the scriptures literally; that he did not think anyone had the right to privately interpret or change them. His comrade told him he would have to go and join the Mormons who lived in the interior of America; that he had learned about them from his wife, who was an English lady, she having heard about the Mormons and their doctrines in England.
|
This caused Se�or Trejo to reflect and study about the people, so much so that he made it a subject of prayer. Finally he dreamed that if he would go and see the Mormons he would be satisfied. Accordingly he sold out all his interests in the Islands, together with his commission, etc., bade farewell to his people and friends and came to this country a stranger, not knowing anyone or enough of the spoken English to ask for a drink of water. Unfortunately, he was introduced to President Young by a party that did not stand very high in the estimation of Brother Young. I have forgotten the name of the one introducing him. This had rather an unfavorable effect upon President Young, and it was a long time before he gave him his confidence. Trejo never resented the suspicion, only said: "He will know me some day."
|
Brother Brizzee took Trejo home with him to live. He commenced studying hard, reading and translating the Voice of Warning the best he could. He acquired very rapidly an understanding of the English language, and being a graduate of the highest schools in Madrid, as soon as he got a clear understanding of the text he could write the same in Spanish, his native tongue.
|
Here I wish to correct an error that exists in the minds of a great many who suppose that Spanish is not the language of Mexico. Pure Spanish is the language of Mexico just the same as pure English is the language of the United States. Just as the uneducated speak bad English, just so the uneducated Mexican speaks bad Spanish. Anyone learning Spanish correctly will scarce perceive the difference when talking to a native Spaniard, a Mexican or a Californian.
|
Se�or Trejo soon became convinced of the truth of the gospel and was baptized by Brother Brizzee. After qualifying himself somewhat, he commenced on the Book of Mormon at our earnest solicitation. My house being completed, I moved my family to Fairview, Sanpete county. Brother Trejo expressed a desire to be with me. He said I understood the written language somewhat better than Brother Brizzee. Brother Brizzee had associated more with the people than I had and talked quite fluently and understood Spanish very well but had not studied the written word so much as I had. It was arranged with good feelings all around seemingly, as soon as I was settled at home that Trejo would live with me and we would work together translating. When brother Trejo came, I rented an office for him where he would be undisturbed through the day. In the evenings we would read and correct together.
|
In the spring Brother T. returned to the city. I began to feel like reporting to President Young, for we had everything ready, as it seemed to me, to do something. With this before me I came down to Salt Lake City, met Brother Brizzee and told him how I felt. His answer was that he was sick of the whole business; that he had been up to the office to see Prest. Young and could not get a hearing.
|
At this time Prest. Young was much harassed by lawsuits of various kinds. I felt disappointed at the answer and asked Brother Brizzee if we had not better keep on and do all we could, and probably Brother Brigham would know when we were ready, but I got no promise from him. I told him I intended to keep to work as long as I saw anything to do; and when I felt fully ready I would report. I concluded to remain in the city for a while so as to be near Trejo to encourage and help him. He had commenced to carefully rewrite the whole manuscript of the Book of Mormon, having translated it entirely. He had improved so that by this time his understanding of English was pretty good. He seemed thoroughly interested in the work. He had now expended what money he had brought to the country with him. I shared what money I earned with him and kept him going the best I could until some time in June, 1875, when he came to me and said he would have to quit as he could not live longer without an income of some kind, and he did not want to accept of me as he knew I was not able to spare him means to live on. This confirmed me in the thought that the time had come to report to Brother Brigham, so I told Brother Platt, the man I was working for, that I was now going to see Prest. Young or camp with him till I did see him and report.
|
I went up town and saw Brother Brigham going into the "Old Constitution" building, followed and spoke to him. He asked, "What are you doing?"
|
"I am hunting you," I replied.
|
"Well, what do you want?"
|
"I want to report to you. You told me to come when I was ready, I am now ready."
|
"All right, go up to the office, I will be there right away."
|
When Brother Brigham came in he asked what I had done. I told him just about what had been done, and explained Trejo's situation. Brother Young had never heard a word about his labors; asked if I could vouch for him. I told him I could vouch for the work he was doing, that it was good and getting to be correct. Brother Young was somewhat surprised and very much pleased. He asked me what Henry Brizzee was doing. I replied that I had made my own report and preferred that Brother Brizzee would do the same. Brother Young said he intended to release Brother Brizzee from the call for reasons that were sufficient and said that he would have him notified accordingly.
|
Brother Brigham advised me to have printed about 100 pages of selections from the Book of Mormon, and get them ready to take to Mexico, and be ready to start about the 1st of September, remarking that the Church funds were low at the time.
|
I told him I could soon raise the money on subscription if so authorized. Accordingly I received the following letter:
|
"SALT LAKE CITY, June 1st, 1875, |
"To whom it may Concern:
|
Elder Daniel W. Jones, the bearer of these lines, is hereby authorized to solicit and receive subscriptions to be applied toward the support of Brother Gonzalez while he is translating the Book of Mormon into the Spanish language, and such other Church publications as it may be found advisable from time to time to translate into that language. As Brother Gonzalez's labors, as above mentioned, promise to be productive of much good, it is hoped that the Saints, so far as able and willing, will aid toward his comfortable sustenance while translating, and also to defray the cost of publishing his translations that are desired to be done by November next.
|
|
"BRIGHAM YOUNG."
|
President Young handed me a blank book, saying, "Take this, get what subscriptions you can, and what is lacking I will furnish." He dictated the following heading:
|
"We the undersigned agree to pay the amount subscribed opposite our names to be used for the purpose of defraying the expenses of translating and publishing the Book of Mormon and other Church works into the Spanish language.
|
"SALT LAKE CITY, June 1st, 1875.
|
(Signed.)
| Edward Hunter, |
Laron Pratt, |
Jeter Clinton, |
| John Sharp, |
Jos. Bull Jr., |
W. Grimsdell, |
| Z. Snow, |
John Priestley, |
P. A. Schettler, |
| Feramorz Little, |
James Anderson, |
J. H. Picknell, |
| J. T. Little, |
A. McMaster, |
Jacob Weiler, |
| G. W. Crocheron, |
R. Mathews, |
Thos. Maycock, |
| Geo. C. Riser, |
W. J. Lewis, |
T. F. H. Morton, |
| Wilba Hayes, |
H. W. Attley, |
Jas. Eardley |
| D. Day, |
Benjamin Judson, |
J. P. Ball, |
| W. C. Rydalch |
Geo. Margetts, |
E. M. Weiler, |
| T. Taylor, |
O. S. Thomson, |
A. C. Smith, |
| J. C. Cutler, |
John B. Kelly, |
Angus M. Cannon, |
| George Goddard, |
W. H. Perkes, |
Martin Lenzi, |
| Erastus Snow, |
Jno. Kirkman, |
Geo. Crismon, |
| George Dunford, |
Charles Livingston, |
D. Miner, |
| A. C. Pyper, |
John Y. Smith, |
Hyrum Barton, |
| Andrew Burt, |
Jas. Livingston, |
N. J. Gronlund, |
| R. Campbell, |
Lorenzo Pettit, |
Robt. Dixon, |
| J. M. Pyper, |
Lucy Pettit, |
J. M. Bernhisel, |
| J. R. Winder, |
Rosana Pettit, |
Ann Peart, |
| J. B. Maiben, |
J. C. Kingsbury, |
E. F. Sheets, |
| Millen Atwood, |
A. M. Musser, |
J. C. Rumell, |
| Francis Platt, |
A. H. Raleigh, |
Jas. McKnight, |
| F. B. Platt, |
James Leach, |
John Needham, |
| P. A. Shreeve, |
Robt. C. Fryer, |
C. Crow, |
| B. Y. Hampton, |
Wm. F. Cahoon, |
C. J. Lambert, |
| William Goforth, |
Jos. E. Taylor, |
J. McGhie, |
| William Hyde, |
E. M. Cahoon, |
Mathias Cowley, |
| Alex. Burt, |
S. A. Woolley, |
Mary Bingham, |
| W. Woodruff, |
J. M. Benedict, |
Emma S. Kelley, |
| A. Woodruff, |
John L. Blythe, |
Ludwig Suhrke, |
| Wm. G. Phillips, |
R. J. Golding |
Chas Shumway, |
| T. O. Angell, |
Geo. W. Price, |
Christian Hendrickson, |
| United Order Tailors, |
N. V. Jones, |
Johan Vink, |
| D. W. Evans, |
J. Morgan, |
Jas. Whitehead, |
| John Nicholson, |
T. McKean, |
Paul A. Elkins, |
| Joseph Bull, |
T. G. Webber, |
Geo. Curtis, |
| J. Jaques, |
Jas. Sanders, |
J. D. Cummings, |
| T. C. Taylor, |
Orson Hyde, |
17th Ward per Bishop |
| T. McIntyre, |
H. S. Eldredge, |
Davis, |
| C. Denney, |
W. H. Hooper, |
16th Wd. per G. Riser, |
| J. Tingey, |
W. C. Neal, |
15th Ward per T. C. |
| S. Roberts, |
John S. Davis, |
Griggs, |
| W. H. Ogelsby, |
Geo. Q. Cannon, |
1st Ward per Bishop |
| Emma S. Kelly, |
C. R. Savage, |
Warburton, |
| George Buckle, |
Geo. Lambert, |
10th Ward per Bishop |
| N. H. Rockwood, |
Morris & Evans, |
Proctor, |
| Wm. Nevee, |
Geo. Teasdale, |
11th Ward per Bishop |
| J. B. Hawkins, |
Thos. Jenkins, |
McRae, |
| Mrs. M. A. Leaver, |
G. F. Brooks, |
Hyde Park per S. M. |
| E. D. Mousley, |
G. H. Taylor, |
Molen, |
| R. B. Sampson, |
T. Latimer, |
Moroni, Sanpete Co., |
| Thos. Roberts, |
S. P. Teasdel, |
per Bishop Bradley, |
| Robert Aveson, |
|
|
NAMES OF BOUNTIFUL WARD, DAVIS CO. |
| Anson Call, |
Geo. O. Noble, |
Thomas Waddoups, |
| Joseph Noble, |
Alfred Burmingham, |
Samanthe Willey, |
| David Lewis, |
Stephen Ellis, |
Elizabeth Barlow, |
| John Telford, |
Daniel Carter, |
John Easthope, |
| John K. Crosby, |
James Wright, |
Richard Duerden, |
| Peter Moore, |
Wm. Henrie, |
Samuel Smedley, |
| Wm. Lewis, |
F. T. Whitney, |
Wm. Atchinson, |
| P. G. Sessions, |
Benjamin Ashby, |
Joseph Wilkins, |
| Henry Rampton, |
Mary Ann McNeil, |
Arthur Burmingham, |
| James Wall, |
Patty Sessions, |
Israel Barlow, |
| J. Kynaston, |
Cordelia M. Barlow, |
Sarah Nicholas, |
| John Moss, |
Jas. Kipper, |
Sarah Easthope, |
| Daniel Wood, |
Benjamin Peel, |
Lucy H. Barlow, |
| J. N. Perkins, |
William Knighton, |
Heber Wood, |
| Enoch Lewis, |
Eric Hogen, |
Thomas Briggs, |
| J. T. Botrell, |
Joseph Moss, |
Daniel Davis, |
| J. H. Barlow, |
Wm. Salter, |
|
Kamas Ward per Bishop S. F. Atwood, 8th Ward per J. M. McAllister, Payson Ward per J. M. Coombs, Provo City per P. M. Wentz, Nephi City per Bishop Grover,
|
SMITHFIELD, CACHE CO., (PER J. S. CANTWELL) WITH FOLLOWING |
LIST OF NAMES. |
| George Barker, |
Mary Swenson, |
Preston T. Morehead, |
| Edward Wildman, |
Samuel Roskelley, |
Euphemia Bain, |
| Silvester Lowe, |
John F. Mac, |
Adeline Barber, |
| Catharine M. Sorensen, |
Thomas F. Mather, |
Louisa Barber, |
| Harriet Meikle, |
Lars Tooleson, |
James Mack, |
| Alice Doane, |
James Mather, |
Wm. G. Noble, |
| Niles C. Christianson, |
Frank Lutz, |
David Weeks, |
| Christiana Ainscough, |
Lars Sorenson, |
Robert Meikle, |
| Joseph Hartan, |
Elizabeth Knox, |
Saml. Hendrickson, |
| John Plouman, |
Lars Swenson, |
Betsey Collett, |
| Wm. A. Noble, |
Hanna Toolson, |
Niels Gylenskogy, |
| Stephen Christianson, |
Peter Nielson, |
Wm. Thornton, |
| Jens C. Peterson, |
Carl Johnson, |
Mary Roberts, |
| Jane Coleman, |
Diana Hendrickson, |
Mary Moritzon, |
| Sarah Langton, |
Frdk. B. Thyberge, |
Hannah Olsen, |
| Robt. Thornly, |
Thomas Smith, |
Ann Mary Weeks, |
| Jane Harton, |
Lars Mouritzan, |
Mary Ann Noble, |
| Niels Tooleson, |
Ola Hanson, |
Laura W. Merrill, |
| Jane Miles, |
Benj. Lloyd, |
Penella Gylenskogy, |
| Jane M. Miles, |
Caroline Christianson, |
Elizabeth Heap, |
| Lena Nielson, |
Matilda Kelsey, |
Charles Jones, |
| Hans Peterson, |
Andrew Tooleson, |
Elizabeth Roberts, |
| Mary Hopkins, |
Niels Nielson, |
|
| Mary Ann Mather, |
Jens Christianson, |
|
Besides obtaining donations in Smithfield Brother Cantwell solicited help from several other settlements.
|
Richmond Ward, Cache Valley, per Bishop Merrill.
LOGAN CITY, (PER J. H. MARTINEAU.) |
| Jens Hansen, |
M. H. Martineau, |
Wm. Trapp, |
| Klaus Klausen, |
P. Crone, |
C. D. Fjelsted, |
| Olof Hansen, |
Geo. Hymers, |
H. D. Hansen, |
| Geo. Baugh, |
John Ormond, |
Ann Davis, |
| H. R. Cranney, |
J. Sandberg, |
C. C. Jensen, |
| J. H. Martineau, |
W. Partington, |
Bodil Hansen, |
| C. J. Larsen, |
H. R. Hansen, |
Ann Hobbs, |
| H. Thatcher, |
John C. Larsen, |
Frank Larsen, |
| Chas. Laudberg, |
Jas. Merrill, |
David Rees, |
| E. Curtis, |
Thos. Fredricksen, |
Gustave Tommason, |
| W. B. Preston, |
Lars Hansen, |
Pleasant Grove per Bp. |
| John Anderson, |
L. R. Martineau, |
J. Brown, |
| T. Lockyer, |
H. Flamm, |
Hyrum Winters, |
| Rasmus Nelson, |
Alex Allen, |
Wm. H. Green, |
| Thos. Morrell, |
J. Hayball, |
J. B. Clark, |
| R. Gates, |
Geo. Merrisson, |
C. C. Petersen, |
| F. Hurst, |
H. Ballard, |
A. Warnick, |
| R. D. Roberts, |
R. Maria Nelson, |
D. Thorn, |
| T. B. Cardon, |
Anna Larsen, |
B. Harper, |
| Josiah Hendricks, |
W. J. Davis, |
D. Adamson, |
| Hans Anderson, |
John Thomas, |
M. P. Peterson, |
| H. Nelson, |
Robt. Davidson, |
Wm. Marrot, |
| Chas. Martensen, |
J. P. Tuevesen, |
Thos. Winder, |
| John Jacobs, |
J. Knowles, |
Olive Thornton, |
| Osro Crockett, |
Joel Ricks, Jr., |
John P. Hayes, |
| B. Ravsten, |
J. Quinney, |
|
SPANISH FORK. |
| Magnus Bjearnson, |
Niels P. Madsen, |
C. Jacobson, |
| Jeff Demick, |
Mrs. Isaacson, |
Paul Jensen, |
| Elizabeth Boyack, |
Marijah Mayor, |
Hans Regtrul, |
| Christena Ghrame, |
August Swensen, |
Mrs. George Sinnett, |
| A. P. Nielson, |
Anna P. Jensen, |
Isabella Rockhill, |
| C. Christiansen, |
Jens Nielsen, |
John Moone. |
| Sarah Brockbank, |
Hans Olsen, |
|
| Jas. G. Higgenson, |
Peter Nielson, |
|
LEHI CITY. |
| William Thomas, |
J. W. Taylor, |
J. Goodwin, |
| J. Houldsworth, |
Mrs. Knudson, |
Andrew A. Peterson, |
| Wm. Goats, |
John Austin, |
James L. Robinson, |
| S. Empey, |
Sarah A. Davis, |
Ephraim City per Bp. |
| E. H. Davis, |
Ellen Rolf, |
Peterson, |
| George Kirkham, |
Chas. Barnes, |
Springville Relief |
| Isaac Chilton, |
G. Gudmundsen, |
Society, |
| ______ Ball, |
John Andreason, |
Parowan per Jesse N. |
| P. Christophisen, |
Elisha Peck, |
Smith, |
| J. W. Morton, |
Oley Ellingson, |
Brigham City per A. |
| Wm. Clark, |
John Bushman, |
Nichols, |
| Mons Anderson, |
Jens Holm, |
James McGhie, |
| Thos. R. Jones, |
Philip Olmstead, |
C. J. Lambert, |
| Abel Mathews, |
Jane Garner, |
Centerville Ward per |
| D. Thurmond, |
N. P. Thomas, |
Wm. Reeves, |
| John Johnson, |
F. Ericesen, |
H. S. Ensign, |
| Wm. H. Winn, |
A. F. Petersen, |
Manti City per J. C. |
| John Zimmerman, |
Peter Petersen, |
Brown and Charles, |
| Elizabeth Bushman, |
______ Hawkins, |
Smith. |
| Wm. L. Hutching, |
John Beck, |
|
| Edwin Standing, |
T. R. Cutler, |
|
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The names given are all that I can furnish from the list as taken at the time and preserved in the same book given me by President Young. A few names are not plain, so I have to omit them. The donations ranged from ten cents to ten dollars. When the wards are credited, no list of names were sent.
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The people were so ready and prompt that it took but a short time to collect the amount needed. In all my travels I have kept this list, as the people helping, seemed to me like particular friends.
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I was not long in raising the amount needed, some $500.00, and contracted with the Deseret News office to publish one hundred pages. A committee was appointed to make the selection. I called for them when I was about ready for work but nothing had been done. On mentioning this to Brother Brigham, he picked up a Book of Mormon, saying: "Take this, go home and get a few days' rest. Read the book and when you feel impressed to do so, mark the places and they will be the proper selections, for you have the spirit of this mission and you will be directed aright."
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On arriving at home in Sanpete County, I commenced to reading and studying expecting to have but a few days at home, then to soon leave on a very hard mission. My wife and family were kind and loving and I enjoyed home as much as any one could. A few days after my arrival Bishop Tucker, of Fairview, and others wished me to go with them to explore Castle valley. On this trip I read and made most of the selections, afterward approved of and printed.
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The first indications of the Pleasant valley coal mines were discovered on this trip by Lycurgus Wilson. Also the country known as Emery County was prospected for settling.
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I once noticed a rail road guide book, where General Johnston was given credit of opening the road down Price Creek canyon. This is not correct. No road was there until the rail road was worked through. Captain Seldon took a party up Spanish Fork to a short canyon to the east of Price Creek. According to the best information in my possession, the credit is due to Sam Gilson for first penetrating and passing through Price canyon.
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After spending about three weeks I returned to Salt Lake City. The selections being approved, work on the printing was soon commenced. There being no one competent to judge of the translation, Brother Brigham asked me how we proposed to prove to the satisfaction of the authorities of the Church that the translation was correct. My proposition was to take a book in English we, Trejo and I, were not acquainted with, let Trejo translate it into Spanish, then I without ever seeing the book would take his translation and write it into English and compare it with the original. Brother Brigham said that was fair. He asked me if I was familiar with "Spencer's Letters." I said I was not as I had never read them. He sent me to the Historian's office to tell Brother G. A. Smith to let Trejo have a copy and do as I proposed. On furnishing our translation as agreed upon, Brother Smith laughingly remarked, "I like Brother Jones' style better than Brother Spencer's. It is the same in substance, but the language is more easily understood."
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Brother Trejo was instructed to carefully re-write the selections and get them ready for the printers. We were advised to call upon Apostle Taylor and ask him to advise us as he had been in charge of the publishing of the Book of Mormon into the French language. Brother Taylor said he did not think we could do the work; and he would rather have nothing to do with it. I told him we had been appointed by the highest authority that there was in the Church to do the work and we believed we could do it and make as good a translation as any that had been made. Two others of the apostles were present. Whether they remember this or not is a question but I am satisfied that Brother Taylor never forgot my answer.
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When the printing was commenced, Brother Brigham told me that he would hold me responsible for its correctness. This weighed heavily upon my mind. So much so that I asked the Lord to in some way manifest to me when there were mistakes.
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Brother Joseph Bull allowed us an extra reading of the proof. The printers did not understand a word of Spanish and could only follow literally the copy. They soon, however, acquired an idea of the spelling that made it easier than at first.
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The manuscript as written by Brother Trejo, was at times rather after the modern notion of good style. When I called his attention to errors he invariably agreed with me. He often remarked that I was a close critic and understood Spanish better than he did. I did not like to tell him how I discerned the mistakes.
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I felt a sensation in the center of my forehead as though there was a fine fiber being drawn smoothly out. When a mistake occurred, the smoothness would be interrupted as though a small knot was passing out through the forehead. Whether I saw the mistake or not I was so sure it existed that I would direct my companion's attention to it and call on him to correct it. When this was done we continued on until the same occurred again.
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President Young gave us all the encouragement and advice necessary. Brothers George A. Smith, G. Q. Cannon and Orson Pratt also manifested much interest in the mission, as well as a great many others, who contributed means to pay for the publishing of the book.
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