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LIFE SKETCHES OF A
JAYHAWKER
OF ’49

BY L! DOW STEPHENS

ACTUAL EXPERIENCES OF A PIONEER
OLD BY HIMSELF IN HIS

NINETEEN SIXTEEN

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FEB 19 1917

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DEDICATED TO
MY OLD AND ESTEEMED FRIEND

HENRY CURTNER

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LIFE SKETCHES OF A
JAYHAWKER

CHAPTER I.

From all information obtainable my great great grandfather came to
this country from Wales, but the date is unknown. He settled in Morris
County, New Jersey. His name was Jacob Stephens, and to him was born
a son, Richard Stephens, born on the same day as General George Wash-
ington, February 22, 1732. Richard Stephens had a son, Samuel Stephens,
my grandfather, and he took part in the War of the Revolution, as did my
grandfather Addis on my mother’s side. At the close of the war they both
returned home and took up agricultural pursuits.

In the year 1820, my grandfather Addis moved from New Jersey to IIli-
nois and was a pioneer of that state. I have heard my grandmother tell of
Chicago at that time. It consisted of one log house and a small ferry where
they crossed the Chicago River going South. They passed but two or three
settlers between Chicago and Lewiston, a distance of a hundred and eighty
mniles.

Grandfather purchased thirty-six sections of land, equal to twenty-three
thousand acres, in what was called the Military tract. After his death the
heirs neglected to pay the taxes, so it was sold over and over for the amount
of the taxes.

Just before the Black Hawk War my father, Richard Stephens, son of
Samuel Stephens, with his family moved from New Jersey to Illinois. At
Canton, then the front of civilization, he built the first frame house in that
town, all others being constructed of logs, laid pioneer style. About 1832 the
country became much disturbed from the Black Hawk War, and a move was
made to Ohio. After remaining about six years the family returned to IIli-
nois and settled near Galesburgh.

By his marriage to Eleanor Addis, who was born in New Jersey, there
was born five children, all of whom attained mature age, and of whom but
two are now living. The youngest of the family born near Hacketstown,
New Jersey, September 29, 1827, was the only one to come to the Western
Coast. While he was reared on a farm and acquired agricultural knowledge,
he was also taught the carpenter trade under his father’s able instructions.
The most memorable events of his youth, and indeed his whole life began
when the news of gold discovery arrived from California. He was anxious
to try his fortune in the mines, and joined an Illinois party bound for Cali-
fornia. On March 28, 1849, the expedition started on its long and too many
fatal journey.

The outfits generally consisted of three to four yoke of oxen, good
strong wagons well loaded with provisions, bedding and clothing. In fact
we found later that we were too heavily loaded. Let me say here that the
hardest pull we had was the leave-taking. We were leaving behind home,
all that was near and dear, all the friends among whom our youthful days

8 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

were spent. In fact I never realized how hard a pull it was until I came to
bid good-bye and started to drive away. I never felt so much like backing
out of any undertaking as I did then, but I had too much pride to stand
laughter, so the reins were gathered up and the expedition moved.

That spring happened to be a very wet one, and the roads were almost
impassable. The streams were swollen and overflowing their banks,
bridges were washed away, and consequently much time had to be spent
repairing and building new ones. On many of the larger streams we con-
structed rafts of logs and rafted the wagons over, and the cattle were made
to swim. Through Iowa we found many prairie sloughs, and they seemed
bottomless. Here we had to cut sod and lay several thicknesses before we
could pass over.

Having started early in the season we had to buy feed for the stock
until we reached the Missouri River, as the grass wasn’t high enough to
keep the stock in travelling condition.

Iowa, at this time, was very sparsely settled. Farm houses were
twenty miles and more apart, and we found here and there villages of
cheap unpainted houses. We found game in plenty, consisting chiefly of
deer, wild turkeys and prairie chickens. When we reached the Missouri
River at Council Bluff, we travelled down the river to Traders’ Point, a
distance of ten or twelve miles. Here we remained for a week, waiting for
the grass to get a good start, arranging for a larger expedition. This point
was the end of the Settlements, and further on lay the Indian country. We
realized a larger body would be safer, but we found that it took more time
and we could make little headway with so large an expedition. So we
divided into companies, and in this way travelled faster.

We had quite an experience crossing the Missouri River. The ferry
was a small scow and could carry but one empty wagon at a time. The
scow was propelled by two oars, two men at an oar, and the current was
very swift. Imagine the time it took to transport fifty wagons and the
loads; we had difficulty getting the cattle to swim at first. We didn’t
realize that the sun shining on the water made much difference, so the first
time the cattle swam round and round for two hours, and we were compelled
to let them land again where they started. But next morning before sun-
rise we started a small boat with a couple of men having a steer in tow,
all the rest of the cattle followed without any trouble and made the opposite
shore safely.

Our first experience with the Indians came with our first camp across
the river. Our camp fires were going nicely, supper was started, when we
heard gun shots, volley after volley. In a few minutes from over the ridge
came two to three hundred Pawnee Indians, riding at full run straight for
our camp. It was a few minutes work for us to get our rifles in readiness,
but the Indians put up a white flag, and they were allowed to enter camp. It
seemed that a party of the Sioux tribe had given them battle, the two being
at war, and the Pawnees had rushed to our camp expecting protection, but
we ordered them off, telling them we wished no trouble with the Sioux
as we had to travel their country, and wanted no enemies. We took the
precaution to organize our body with regular military style with Colonels
and Captains. For awhile we were very vigilant. Our picket guards were
stationed three hundred yards from camp, and had to lie down to see any

o ee

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 9

approaching object, but firing was strictly prohibited unless you thought
an enemy approached.

We did not want any false alarms, but like many others we grew care-
less of danger. Many of us went two or three miles from camp, often being
away all day hunting and looking over the country. I remember that two of
us travelled a long distance on the bank of the river, when, without any
warning an Indian appeared before us. At the same time geese were flying
overhead and the Indian said “Shoot, shoot”. My companion raised his gun,
and I made a quick dash to lower it, and said “we had better not waste our
shot, for I don’t like the looks of things’. We had moved but a few steps
when arrows rained down all about us, but not an Indian in sight, except
the one we had spoken with. After a short distance more, beyond the
range of arrows, we turned and saw over a dozen Indians raising up out of
the grass.

I was carrying a very fine rifle with twenty-seven pieces of silver
mounting, and I think this was what they wished. We must have been a
little out of range for them to shoot directly at us, but a falling arrow would
answer their purpose just as well. It is needless to relate that all possible
haste was made for our train, ten miles away. Of course our story was
rather doubted by the other boys, and we were joshed about the scalps we
didn’t take.

Somewhere in the Western part of Iowa we passed the grave of the
Indian Chief, Black Hawk, of Black Hawk War fame. It was near the bank
of a small stream, the name of which I’ve forgotten. We had a little mis-
hap here in rafting the stream. Our raft was going along nicely when in
some way the wagon went to the bottom of the river, out of sight. The
stream was sluggish, and we didn’t have much difficulty in fishing the
wagon out. Fortunately the load had been transferred to another wagon,
but we did have one load damaged on another occasion when the wagon
turned over crossing a stream. This was quite serious, as three barrels of
hard bread were entirely ruined.

About twenty miles from the Missouri River we came to the winter
quarters of the Mormon excursion of 1846 and 1847. There was no one
there, but we secured a Mormon Guide Book, and it proved of great assist-
ance. They had measured the roads, and distances from camp to camp were
recorded. The entire distance from the winter quarters to Salt Lake City
was a thousand and thirty-one miles, and but two houses in the entire dis-
tance. These were at Fort Lorima and Fort Bridger.

At the first fort there were twenty soldiers, and at the latter only
Bridger and some Indians. I just mention a little incident here. Several
of us boys had gone ahead of the train and were enjoying ourselves asking
Bridger questions. He was an old montaineer and could give us good ad-
vice. While we were talking, Indians began to pour in from different quar-
ters, very much excited and saying Indians were coming. Everybody hustled
around, the Indians flocked in, the doors were barred, rifles made ready for
the scrap, when a pack train hove in sight. It was an emigrant train from
Arkansaw, and being the first one from that direction, from a distance, it
was natural to infer they were Indians.

Things like this and happenings of interest, made the time pass rapidly.
Soon after passing Wood River we came into the buffalo country. Here we

10 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

saw thousands at one time, all with their massive heads pointing to the
north and feeding as they passed along. They didn’t seem wild, and it was
no trouble to get in range with them when we wished to. Some of the boys
shot them down for the sake of the sport. It seemed wrong to me and sin-
ful, but in after years they were slaughtered by the thousands just for their
hides. But a few years elapsed before the buffalo became practically extinct
on the plains, and only here and there in the fastnesses of the mountains
could be seen a small number.

There were many different classes of wolves to be seen on the prai-
ries: the common prairie wolf, the gray, the black and another, a large long-
legged wolf, the latter being found always near the herds of buffalo and was
a constant terror to the calves. While the herds were travelling the cows
and calves always kept the center with the bulls on the outside, affording
protection against the Buffalo Rangers, as these wolves were called. These
wolves were ferocious, and a band of them would attack men, if hungry.

On one occasion some of the boys were out and away from the train,
when a hard rain storm overtook them at night fall. They sought shelter
under a bank seven to eight feet in height, all loaded with the choicest of
buffalo meat, the tongues and the hump. In a short time they were attacked
by a band of these Buffalo Rangers (wolves). They would have surrounded
the boys had it not been for the bank on one side, as it was they attacked
from every side and came so close the boys had to poke them away with
their guns. There were five boys, and they fought the wolves all night long,
as shooting them had no effect at all, and when daylight came and the
wolves sneaked away. They had left the imprint of their teeth in the gun
barrels that could be seen very distinctly. The boys were glad enough to
get back to camp and good and hungry after their night’s fight.

We did not lack for amusements; we had some very good musicians in
our company and almost every night we had a dance around the camp fire.
To avoid confusion one-half wore handkerchiefs on their heads, so there was
no trouble telling the girls from the boys, for out of the fifty wagons that
started there was not a single woman in the crowd. During the emigration
of forty-nine, I think the average of women was about one in five hundred,
so our chances for being bachelors was pretty good for a number of years.
I know I roamed about for twenty years before I found my mate, and have
never regretted the waiting.

The cholera was bad that year. We passed trains every day laying by
on account of cholera. Many died along the Platte River. I had it myself
after passing Fort Larima, but we lost only one night and a half a day on
my account, though the slightest jolt of the wagon created intense suffer-
ing, but I had started for California, and I was bound to come through. I
am satisfied that there were many people who died with fever as well as
with cholera, for, once attacked death seemed certain.

Many amusing incidents happened every day hardly worth recording.
In the evenings, many times friendly Indians came into camp numbering
thirty or forty. Sometimes they brought things to trade, and then again
they begged for food. Indians seem to be hungry at all times. One evening,
while the Indians were in camp, a man with false teeth went up to them
smiling a most pleasing smile and showing his beautiful white teeth. He
would turn around, grin at them again, this time showing his gums. He

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 11

had only to repeat this several times when the Indians would back away,
walk off, and in a few moments start into a trot until they were out of sight.
They thought, of course, that the man was an evil spirit, but I have often
wondered just what they did think.

Along the Platte River we found the corpses of Indians, well wrapped
in bark and tied to the limbs of trees with bark. This was the custom of
the Pawnees, but after we got further on the plains there were no trees,
in fact no trees for five hundred miles. So we had no fuel, and had to use
the buffalo chips, which, if dry, made a very hot fire. Just before camping
time we each of us took a sack, scattered out and came back to camp with
sacks full, having a generous supply for cooking our supper and breakfast.
But if the rain came on, our much prized chips would not burn at all, and
we had to be content with hard tack and raw bacon, and no hot coffee for
breakfast.

It was well nigh impossible to measure distance by the eye, objects
that appeared close to, would often prove to be days travel away. A party
of us started for Chimney Rock, and as it seemed a short distance away
we started early in the morning. We walked fast until after noon, and then
seemed no nearer, so we held a council and came to the conclusion to retrace
our steps, arriving at camp tired and hungry. There being no settlements
and no smoke the atmosphere was as clear as could be. I think we sighted
Pikes Peak, over two hundred miles away, and it seemed as if we should
never pass it.

On the Black Hills we came into the Crow Indian country, but we never
saw one. They were not friendly to the whites, and when an Indian is not
friendly you never see them in their own country. We came to the Show-
shu-nees Tribe, or Snake, as they were sometimes called, but they disliked
the name, Snake. They were friendly to us. At one time my chum and I
slipped away, and visited their camp and they treated us royally. The
chief’s wife talked good English, and we were shown all through the camp,
there being over five hundred in number. They had many pets, both birds
and beasts. We were invited to go with them on a buffalo hunt, and I
should have enjoyed it, but all my possessions were with the train, so we
remained only the day. But this was long enough to worry the older men
of the party, especially the father of my chum, and all thought we had been
murdered by the Indians.

About four to six weeks later, as I was walking in the streets of Salt
Lake City, I heard a horse galloping behind me, and here was the same In-
dian Chief, and he appeared to be tickled to see me, as a boy with his first
toy. His wife on her pony appeared equally glad. She had been educated
at some mission, and so had acquired English.

All up the Platte River, and well into the Black Hills, we had many
thunder storms; the lightning seemed to strike all around us, and sometimes
very near. On one ecccasion we came to a team of four yoke of oxen,
hitched to a wagon in regular order, and every one dead, having been struck
by lightning. This must have been a terrible misfortune to the owners.

There were all kinds of disagreements and quarrels over trivial mat-
ters, and the only way of settling the difficulty would be to make a division
of property. The wagon would be cut in two, one party taking the front
and the other the hind part, dividing the team and provisions, and each

12 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

party proceed on the cart of two wheels.

We were very much over-loaded and in consequence the cattle could
not stand the strain, and grew weaker day by day. So hundreds of pounds
of the finest bacon, beans, flour and sugar were left on the wayside. The
bacon was piled like cordwood, and some of the men poured turpentine on
the provisions and set fire to them, so the Indians couldn’t eat them. Some
men seem to be born mean, but to me such meanness was despicable.

Coming to the second crossing of the Platte River we found a small
ferry that could accomodate but one empty wagon at a time. The ferry was
owned by every train that came along, that is a train would buy the ferry,
do their crossing and then sell it to the next train that was in waiting.

We reached the river Sweet Water, a small but swift stream a distance
from the Platte. We forded without any trouble, and found the noted land-
mark, Independence Rock, covering an acre of ground and two hundred
feet high. It was discovered, I believe, on the Fourth of July, and so received
its name. A little further on we came to the Devils Gate, a narrow cut or
gorge through the mountains like a crevice. It was reported that no one
had ever passed through its passage. Many had started, but had to turn
back. So it was a great incentive for us to try. A party of us started, but
there was only two to complete the trip, one other fellow, who nearly lost
his life, and myself.

We crossed and recrossed several times, and at one crossing he was
swept down stream by the current, and under a shelving rock. He held to
the rock with his hands, his body swept under the rock by the current. I
had crossed the stream safely a little further up, and so was able to come
to his rescue. In some places we had to climb almost perpendicular walls,
almost a hundred feet in height, then walk along a narrow ledge where a
mountain goat would hardly venture.

I have heard of foolhardy escapades, and have often wondered how we
ever managed to come through with our lives, but luck must have been
wiht us, for it makes me shudder even now to think of the danger we were
constantly in.

Passing up the Sweet Water for quite a distance, then turning to our
right we travelled up a long gentle grade for almost twenty miles, where we
came to the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains. There we camped on a
large flat, finding many springs, the water from these springs taking their
course to either side, some to the Atlantic and some to the Pacific Ocean.
We had heavy frosts, and some ice and this was in the latter part of July.

Travelling on we came to the Little and Big Sandy Rivers, where the
roads forked, one leading to Ft. Hall, and the other to Salt Lake. Here a
discussion arose as to the proper course to take. We argued the advantages
and disadvantages, and the result was a natural one, a disagreement. We
parted company, each man choosing his company to travel in, so all were
entirely satisfied.

Our next stream of any size was Green River, where we ferried again.
The Mormons owned the ferry and charged five dollars a wagon; this was
a regualr gold mine for them, for the travel was heavy. We had to swim
the cattle as before, but happily lost none. For many days we pursued our
way; nothing transpiring of note beyond the usual occurrences found on the
plains. We reached Emigrant Canyon shortly, a canyon that required six

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 13

‘weeks of work on the part of the Mormons who had passed through two
years before. We crossed the stream twenty-six times, and it was but a
small stream too, emptying into Salt Lake Valley.

At this juncture we were approaching Salt Lake City, so three of us
decided to forge ahead of the train. When we reached the first bench or
table land we saw spread out before us the city itself, and in the greater
distance the Great Lake. When we reached the first little farm our atten-
tion was attracted to the garden, full of vegetables of all kinds. How our
mouths watered at this welcome sight. We approached the house, asked
for accommodations. They made excuses about sleeping quarters, but that
didn’t trouble us, as we could sleep anywhere out of doors, if one could
just have a meal or so. We kept our eyes on the garden, and were willing
and glad to help in the preparation of the vegetables. No one knows how
willing we were to pod the peas. We had green corn, peas and other vege-
tables, something we had longed and starved for four months. Never be-
fore or since have I tasted anything that was so good, and we ate and ate
until we could eat no more, and only felt sorry that our capacity was so
limited.

We were up bright and early getting peas ready for breakfast. This
was a regular bonanza for us, and our bill was only fifty cents each. It
was well worth five dollars to us if worth a cent.

Four miles distant lay the city, and a smart walk soon brought us in,
where we inquired for a good camping place for the train which had not yet
arrived. We soon found a suitable place, convenient to water and grass,
the two most essential features for a camping place. We camped between
the city and Jordan River, as all emigrants had to camp on that side of the
city.

Our train arrived the same day and we were soon surrounded by the
Mormons, principally women enquiring for tea, and if we had any to sell.
They seemed to be as much starved for tea as we were for vegetables. We
wouldn’t sell tea, but we said we would trade for vegetables. Tea was three
dollars a pound, and we could get vegetables a week for a pound of tea.
Some of the women said they had not tasted tea for two years past. They
were also short of groceries and wearing apparel. Many women were en-
tirely barefooted, and many scantily dressed. All the clothes had been
practically worn out, as there had been no supplies brought in for two
years, consequently many of them were greatly in need of the luxuries of
life. They had seeds and plenty of cattle with them, so they were well pro-
vided with the substantials, all having good gardens, beef, milk and butter.

They raised wheat and ground their own flour, but had no way to bolt
it, so had to live on unbolted flour. The women were doing mens’ work in
the fields, pulling up the wheat and thrashing it with flails, they having no
harvesting implements, as they were yet very scarce. We saw other women
with their three or four yoke of oxen and team going into the canyon, a
distance of twelve miles, and bringing down loads of wood. There were
no men on the load, and perhaps there would be two or three women to
handle the team. After seeing the scheme of things I didn’t wonder so
much they advocated the plurality of wives, the advantages were so great.

I became tired of camp life in a few days and decided a change was
good for me, so found board with a family named Smithson. There was a

14 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

large family of children, some of the girls almost grown. The old genitle-
man was well up in the seventies, and concluded he wanted another wife.
His wife was much opposed naturally, and I heard her tell him she would
leave if he brought another wife home. The old fellow justified himself by
declaring that “more wives meant more stars in his crown of glory.” This
was a heavy argument, but his wife couldn’t see the force of the argument.
No doubt she felt it better for him to do with fewer stars in his crown,
than for her to suffer the presence of another woman in the house. Years
afterwards I heard he never had a chance to add stars to his crown, prob-
ably he was too old.

I stayed with these people a week, then boarded with one of the elders
of the church who already had two wives, and had his eyes on a third, a
young grass widow, but she said she wouldn’t be number three to the best
man living. I boarded with the elder’s family during the remainder of my
stay in Salt Lake.

The officers of the Church consisted of a Prophet, 12 Apostles, and
seventy elders, then come the teachers, and so on down to the laymen. They
believe in baptizing for the dead, that is the living can be baptized for any
relative who had passed away, and that by immersion.

One old lady came near being drowned, for she was trying to save
seventy that had gone before. One reason why I had gone to board with the
elder was to learn what I could of the Mormon people. The women would
talk more than the men, and through them I learned many things. I found
none of them were exactly happy, and would enjoy getting away, but such
a thing was impossible at that time. They were there, and there they had
to remain.

In speaking of the officers of the Church, I forgot the Angels. The de-
stroying Angels, whose duty it is to put away all undesirable beings. I have
often thought these destroying Angels might have had a great deal to do
with the Mountain Meadow Massacre.

Salt Lake is well situated in the valley with gently rising ground to
the foothills. The streets were wide and had running water in ditches
through them. The buildings were mostly of logs, and in the center of the
town was what might be termed a fort. The log cabins were built in a
hollow square, enclosing two acres of ground, and at different intervals
were gates; this no doubt being for defense in time of Indian troubles.

The Mormons became friends of all the Indians in that country and any
Indian you met always said, “Mormonee, Mormonee, heap good Mormon.”

We hired teams to take us to the Lake, about twenty miles away. The
water is so impregnated with salt you could wade out to your armpits and
then be raised right off your feet. One can walk along through the water
without sinking any deeper, and a nap on the surface is not an impossibil-
ity. The water is very clear, so clear you can see the pebbles in the bot-
tom at twenty feet. Along the shore was tons of salt, just winrows of it
two or three feet deep. We spent the day there, and on the return trip
stopped at a good camping place, where we refreshed ourselves with a few
hours sleep, and then proceeded on our way to camp, arriving about sunrise
next day.

On Sundays we heard Brigham Young preach. They held services in
what they called their Tabernacle. It was made by planting posts in the

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 15

ground, with poles across, and then brush on top, enough to make good
shade. Seats were made of rough sawed lumber and would seat about a
thousand. The pulpit was also made of the same rough material, no pains
being taken to plane the boards.

During the first twenty minutes of the sermon, Brigham Young lectured
them roundly on things to do and not to do, something on:this line: “Some
of you hang around the Emigrant wagons and fool your time away, and by
and by tithing day will come and you won’t have a cent to pay your
tithing, and as for the Emigrant, so long as they are here, obey our laws and
regulations they are welcome to stay, but when they don’t they can go to
hell and be ————————.. We don’t care for them anyway; look at this pul-
pit. My new vest is worn out already on these rough boards. Some of you
might think I am swearing, but I am not, for when I swear I swear in the
name of the Lord, therefore this is not swearing.”

Maybe it wasn’t swearing, but it sounded much like cursing. However
he could say what he pleased to his people, and they come home from
church mightily pleased that some one had caught it, and never taking
any of the lectures for themselves.

A party of us thought we should like to prospect in the Washutt Moun-
tains, so ten of us left about ten o’clock at night, quietly, as we didn’t want
the Mormons to know anything of our intentions. We went up to the little
Cotton Wood Canyon, reaching the mouth of the canyon about daylight. At
the entrance we saw two men on horse back about half a mile distant, one
on each side of the canyon, watching us. We travelled hard all day and
camped at night good and tired. The majority turned back next morning,
and about a quarter of a mile away found a camp-fire still burning, but no
one in sight. Whoever followed us evidently thought we had turned back,
and they did also. We were out five or six days, following up the creek to
its source, in fact went clear to the summit of the mountain, but we ran out
of grub and for three days had nothing to eat but chipmonks, at least what
little there was left after shooting them with a rifle. We saw tracks of
larger game, possibly elk, but none of us had ever seen any elk, and so did
not know their tracks. Since being in California, and familiar with elk
tracks I think there must have been elk in that country. Our prospecting
didn’t amount to anything, as we knew nothing of prospecting. We might
not have been sure of gold had we seen it lying loose in the ground. Since
that the Emmas mine and other rich mines have been worked and millions
taken right out of the ground we passed over at the mouth of the canyon.

The boys of our crowd met us with a pack horse loaded with food, and
you can imagine how the food disappeared, after being without for three
or four days. While on the summit of the mountains we had a snow storm,
and this in September.

The Mormons were all fond of dancing, and fortunately I was invited
to several of the parties. Brigham Young always led off with the fairest
in the assemblage, and it was always considered an honor to be chosen by
Brother Brigham, as he was styled. In build Brigham Young was very
much like Theo. Roosevelt. He was a very good speaker, but no orator,
but he shone as a leader. His people would do everything he proposed,
and his control seemed to reign over them. I have been often asked how
many wives he had, and all I have to judge by was the sleeping apartments.

16 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

In walking past his place of residence I saw about seven or eight wagon
bodies with covers on, all in a row, ranged in his back yard, and was told
these were occupied by his wives. Across the square from where I boarded
were two more, and these I knew quite well.

The warm springs were there at that time, in an open plain and we all
thoroughly enjoyed the bathing. One day there was a dozen of us enjoying
our bath when along came a wagon, drove up to almost thirty paces of us
and the driver asked if we didn’t know this was the ladies bath day. We
told him we were entirely ignorant, and would immediately get into our
clothes and give them full possession. Which we did.

Many Mormons had been to California and returned with gold from
the mines, and had it coined at Salt Lake into five dollar gold pieces. On
one side was printed the All Seeing Eye, and on the other side the Bee Hive.
But most of the currency consisted of shin plasters written on paper and
signed by Brigham, and circulated only amongst themselves, for all things
bought from emigrants was paid for in gold coin. The gold was soft, no
alloy being used, so lasted but a short time.

CHAPTER II.

We commenced to think of leaving, and inquired the best route out.
The Mormons told us of the Donner party being snowed in in the Sierra
Nevada Mountains, and that it was too late now for us to undertake any
route but the Southern route. This sounded plausible to us, but there was
a motive back of this that we didn’t comprehend. The Southern route was
the old Santa Fe trail, and it was policy for them to have a travelled trail
to the coast, rather than go back to the Mississippi or Missouri Rivers for
supplies.

About the latter part of September we started the organization of a
company, and by the first of October we had gathered one hundred and five
wagons, and a guide, a Mormon, who claimed to know the road well, and
he did prove to be competent. Our contract with the guide, Captain Hunt,
called for a thousand dollars to Los Angeles, or ten dollars a wagon. As
soon as the wagons were in readiness, the start was made on the first day
of October, from a place called Provo, where we congregated, fifty miles
from Salt Lake.

We were divided into seven divisions, each division had a captain, and
a name coined to suit the fancy of the division. Some of them were “Bug
Smashers”, “Buck Skins”, “Wolverine”, “Hawk Eye”, ete. The one to
which I belonged was styled the “Jay Hawkers of Forty Nine”, the party
that plays the prominent part in this narrative.

Every day we took turns leading the train as it was styled. That is, the
division that led the train one day fell into the rear next day, for the leader
always had the hardest work, for the road had to be broken. The first part
of the journey was through the sage brush, and proved difficult traveling,
and with such a large company we made but a few miles a day. The trail
was over low rolling hills covered with scrub cedars, and somewhat sandy
soil in places. The grass and water became scarcer every day, but we man-
aged fairly well until we passed Little Salt Lake, where three Mormons
made their appearance on horseback. The leader and spokesman said his

L. DOW STEPHENS AND HIS BIRTH-

PLACE IN NEW JERSEY, BUILT BY HIS

FATHER IN 1816. THE MASSIVE PINE

TREE IN THE FOREGROUND WAS

PLANTED THE SAME YEAR. THE

AUTHOR WAS BORN HERE ON SEPTEM-
BER 29, 1827.

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 17

name was Barney Ward, and that he was an old mountaineer and plains-
man and knew the country well, and by following his proposed route we
could cut from four to five hundred miles off our journey.

He had the road all mapped out and a diagram showing the camping
places, about fifteen miles between. Naturally we fell into a discussion, for
the road would terminate at the mines, instead of Los Angeles. Meeting
after meeting was held, and all the advantages of the cut-off were discussed.
In the meantime we had reached what is now known as the Iron Mountain.
I think that I with one of the others was the discoverer of this moontain of
iron. After camping we strolled up the mountain, and the rocks were no-
ticeable for their weight and their positions. They lay in masses and had a
metallic ring to them. I took one into camp, and showed it to a professor
we had with us and he pronounced it iron.

We camped next at Mountain Meadows, a place that afterwards became
known as the scene of Mountain Meadow Massacre, of 1857. I looked this
up in Bancroft’s History of Utah, and this is what he says: “It was Sat-
urday evening when the Arkansas families encamped at Mountain Meadows.
On the Sabbath they rested, and conducted divine services in a large tent,
as had been their custom throughout the journey.

“At daybreak on the seventh of September, while the men were light-
ing their camp fires, they were fired upon by the Indians, or white men
disguised as Indians, and more than twenty were killed, or wounded.

“Their cattle had been driven off by their assailants under the cover
of darkness. The survivors ran for their wagons and pushing them to-
gether so as to form a corral, dug out the earth deep enough to sink them
almost to the top of the wheels. In the center of the enclosure they made
a rifle pit large enough to contain the entire company. The attacking party
which numbered from three to four hundred, withdrew to the hills on the
crest of which they built parapets, where they shot down all who showed
themselves outside the entrenchments.

“The emigrants were now in a state of siege and though they fought
bravely had little hope of escape. All the outlets of the valley were guarded,
their ammunition was almost exhausted. Of their number, which included
a large proportion of women and children, many were wounded and their
suffering from thirst had become intolerable. Down in a ravine and within
a few yards of a corral was a stream of water, but only after sundown
could there be a scanty supply obtained, and then at great risk, for the
point was covered by the muskets of the Indians who lurked all night
among the ravines.

“Four days the siege lasted. On the morning of the fifth a wagon
was seen approaching from the northern end of the meadow, and with it
a company of the Royal Legions. When within a few hundred yards of the
entrenchments the company halted and one of them, William Bateman by
name, was sent forward with a flag of truce. In answer to this signal a
little girl dressed in white appeared in an open space between the wagons,
half way between the Mormons and the corral.

“Bateman was met by one of the emigrants named Hamilton, to whom
he promised protection for his party on condition that their arms were sur-
rendered, assuring him they would be conducted in safety to Cedar City.
After a brief parley each one returned to comrades. By whose order the

18 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

massacre was committed, or for what reason, other than those already men-
tioned, has never yet been clearly ascertained, but to the incidents and the
plan of the conspirators, we have evidence that it is in the main reliable.
During the week of the massacre, Lee, with several other Mormons, was
encamped within a half mile of the emigrants camp, and as was alleged,
though not distinctly proven at his trial, induced the Indians by promised
booty to make the attack, but finding the resistance stronger than he an-
ticipated had sent for aid to the settlements of Southern Utah.

“Thus far the evidence is contradictory. There is sufficient proof how-
ever, that in accordance with a program previously arranged at Cedar, a
company of militia, among whom were the Legion of Honor, and Major
Higley, and which was afterwards joined by Col. William H. Dame, Bishop
of Cedar City, arrived at Lees camp on the evening before the massacre.
It was then arranged that Lee should conclude terms with the emigrants,
and as soon as they had delivered themselves into their power the Mormons
should start for Hannibal’s Ranch on the eastern side of the Meadows with
the wagons, arms, the young children, and the sick and wounded. The men
and women, the latter in front, were to follow the wagons all in single file.
On each side of them the militia were to be marched two deep with twenty
paces between their lines.

Within two hundred yards of the camp the men were to be brought to
a halt until the women approached a copse of scrub oak about a mile dis-
tant and near to where the Indians lay in ambush. The men were now to
resume their march. The militia forming into single file, each one walking
beside of an emigrant and carrying his musket on his left arm. As soon
as the women were close to the ambuscade, Higley, who was in charge of
the detachment, was to give the signal by saying to his command, “Do your
duty’; whereupon the militia were to shoot down the men, the Indians were
to slaughter the women and children, sparing only those of tender age.
Lee, with some of the wagons, were to butcher the sick and wounded.
Mounted troopers were to be in readiness to pursue and slay any of those
who attempted to escape, so that with the exception of infants no living
soul should be left to tell the tale of the massacre.

The last victim was a little girl who came running up to the wagons
covered with blood a few minutes after the disabled men had been mur-
dered. She was shot down within sixty yards of where Lee was standing.
The massacre was now completed and after stripping the bodies of all arti-
cles of value Brother Lee and his associates went to breakfast, returning,
after a hearty meal, to bury the dead.

There is one more item I must not overlook. After they were all slain
an Indian came across two girls hidden in the brush and brought them
before Lee and asked Lee what was to be done with them. Lee replied they
were too old to keep, and the Indians said they were too pretty to kill.
Then Lee said “obey orders”, and the Indian shot one of the girls, and Lee
cut the throat of the other.

It takes too much space to give in detail all the horrors of this massa-
cre, but to sum it up, according to the best information obtainable, a hun-
dred and twenty lives were taken, and seventeen children between the
ages of two months and seven years, were spared from the butchery.

According to the evidence, the Mormons and the Indians divided the

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 19

spoils, but the Indians became dissatisfied with the division. After a lapse
of twenty years, during which there was trial after trial, with no jury ever
agreeing, Lee was convicted. In the hearing he said “there must be a vic-
tim, and I am selected as the victim. I studied for thirty years to make
Brigham Young my pleasure, and see what I have come to. I have been
sacrificed in a cowardly dastardly manner.” He was shot to death while
seated on a rude made coffin, on the same spot where occurred the mas-
sacre.

Almost a day out from Mountain Meadow we came to the point where
the road left the main trail. A halt was called, and Captain Hunt said those
who wished to go with him could do so, and he would guide them to safety.
The result was that out of the hundred and five wagons there was only
seven that accompanied him. When we started on Captain Hunt called out
to us “boys if you undertake that route you will go to hell.”

I know now he knew whereof he spoke. He had had considerable des-
ert experience, and we none. He realized these three men were fakes,
sent out by the Church for a purpose, but to tell us so would mean the loss
of his life. Brigham and the church wanted a short route to the Pacific
Coast, and here was the opportunity of having that route prospected. Count-
ing the toll in lives was a nominal consideration.

But the train moved on, notwithstanding Captain Hunt telling us where
we would land. After two days travel we came to a bluff, seemingly a
thousand feet to the bottom, and straight up and down. A small stream
flowed at the bottom, and by using ropes and buckets we could get enough
for camp use, using it sparingly. The oxen had to go without, and after a
couple of days prospecting a greater part of the train turned back to take
up Captain Hunt’s trail. But the “Jay Hawkers of °49” said they had
started on this trail, and would follow it or leave their bones on the way.

After reconnoitering we found, by taking a circuitous route, we could
get the whole division, with the exception of two wagons. Others followed,
but the “Jay Hawkers” took the lead, and kept it, and followed as direct a
Western course as possible, turning aside for the low passes in the moun-
tains. There was no solid range of mountains to cross, but rather a series
of broken ranges where we crossed the passes at quite high altitudes.
Thus week after week passed with scarcely any grass, and oxen becoming
weaker from day to day, and then the distances were so great between
water places. When water was found it seemed impossible to use it, being
so blackish.

On one occasion we had gone five days without water, but through a
kind Providence on the third night a snow came. About two or three
inches fell, but before the ground was barely covered we were all out gath-
ering the snow to melt, and before the storm had passed we had ample sup-
ply for ourselves and oxen. No doubt this is what saved many of us, for
we never reached water for two days more. It became a cause of anxiety,
whether we would ever reach the next watering place or not. It became
the custom toward the last to send out men to prospect for water, and if
water was found a smoke was made, as in this desert country smoke cout
be seen a great distance. ia |

From day to day our cattle became weaker and weaker, and our provi-
sions were getting low. So we were put on short allowance. Finally the

20 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

teams could pull no further, many had already died, so the wagons were
abandoned and pack saddles made on the oxen.

On Christmas day, 1849, we were all busy making pack saddles, and
cooking the scanty supply of flour into little biscuits, or crackers, as they
were perfectly hard. We were divided into twos, from eight men to two
men mess, and each one had his share allotted to him. We had a half dozen
of the little crackers, about three or four spoonfuls of rice, and about as
much dried apples, and this ended the bill of fare, which must last until
we reached settlements.

California seemed a long way off. We did not know where we were,
but I know we were much further off than we realized. The proposition
now became a single one, for we just had to subsist on the oxen, and they
had become so poor there was little or no nourishment in their flesh, as
they were dying then from starvation.

As soon as an ox fell he was butchered, everything saved, especially
the blood. We did not know where we were and we realized that the strict-
est economy must prevail. We even boiled the hide and it became partially
tender. When we left Salt Lake we had two teams of four yoke of oxen
to each, and only eight men, with what we considered ample provisions.
Captain Hunt had told us of the distance to Los Angeles, and if we had re-
mained with him we would have had abundance. When we killed an ox
we cut the meat into strips, and dried it over a fire, during the night, so it
would be ready to pack next day. We found little patches of grease wood,
the only thing that grew in the desert, and this was of a very scrubby
variety at best. It grew not more than two feet high, of the size of a
finger, still, by searching diligently we could secure enough to answer our
needs in camp.

Here is where Rev. J. W. Brier and family came up to us and wanted
to travel with us. At first we objected, as we didn’t want to be encum-
bered with any women, but we hadn’t the heart to refuse. So they joined
the “Jay Hawkers”, and the little woman proved to be as plucky and brave
as any woman that ever crossed the plains, either before or since. They
had three small boys, about six or eight years old. When the smallest got
too tired tramping he was placed on the back of an ox for a change.

I will state here that the only survivor of the family is now living at
Lodi, California, the mother dying last May in her hundredth year. There
were others who came to our camp, one was a company of Georgians, about
fifteen of them. The next day we saw snow on the mountains in the dis-
tance, and we know if we could reach the pass through the mountains we
would find water, so we started straight for it. But the Georgians hugged
the foot of the mountain, in hopes of finding water in the canyon. They
found no water, but did find a silver mine, of almost pure silver. I saw a
piece they melted and made a gun-sight of.

Since writing the above J. W. Brier, Jr., has died, leaving only three of
us left out of the original number of “Jay Hawkers” of thirty-nine.

Thousand and thousands of dollars have been spent trying to find the
gun-sight lead. Governor Lore of Nevada fitted out several expeditions to
try to find it, but it never has been located. I was offered all kinds of
money in California to go back and hunt for it, but I never had the least
inclination to accept.

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER aL

Captain Townshend who seemed to be the head man of the Georgia
company, took the company through on another route. They packed their
provisions on their backs, and were better supplied than we were, as they
still had some flour of which they gave a portion to the Brier family. They
succeeded in getting through Walkers Pass, on to the head of Kern River,
then into San Joaquin Valley and to Chowchilla River, where they were
nearly all murdered by the Indians.

I believe there were but two who escaped. Another party of eleven
men passed who thought they could make it by packing on their backs
enough to last them. They had killed their oxen, dried the meat and packed
what they could, and out of the eleven there was but two to finish the
trip, the others having died, in a pile. These two would have died also had
it not been they disagreed on the route to travel, and stole away in the
night.

In 1864 I was travelling down Owens River Valley, below Owens Lake,
and at a place now known as Indian Wells there came a man in from the
Slate Range of Mountains. In the conversation he teld me that some of his
party in prospecting had come across the remains of nine men all together
behind a little barricade of brush. They had probably built a wind brake,
and had died right there from thirst. I made him promise that he would
see the remains properly buried upon his return.

Speaking of thirst, there is no punishment that has any comparison.
It is the most agonizing suffering possible and the feeling is indescribable.
Our tongues would be swollen, our lips crack, and a crust would form on
our tongue and roof of mouth that could not be removed. The body seemed
to be dried through and through, and there wouldn’t be a drop of moisture
in the mouth, at these times we thought of Barney Ward, and I just can’t
imagine what we would have done to him had we had him near.

So day by day we pursued our way, our cattle and ourselves growing
weaker and weaker. The outlock was gloomy, and cften when we killed a
steer we looked forward to the marrow found in the bones. But in break-
ing the bones often there would be nothing there but a little bloody sub-
stance, and I suppose our bones were much in the same condition, as we
had becomes as starved as they were.

Another party, called the Bennett party, tried a little different route
from ours. They struck off South from us on the other side of the moun-
tain. I didn’t know the number in the party, but there were two families
of Bennetts, and Arcane, and each had a wife, but no children. There may
have been ten or a dozen altogether. They called a halt and sent two of
their number, Lewis Manly and John Rogers, on to the settlements for sup-
plies and pack animals. They thought the trip there and back wouldn’t
take more than two weeks, but they were gone five, and those behind gave
up all hope and resigned themselves to their fate. About this time the
boys returned, and when within a few hundred yards of camp found one
lying dead. They saw no sign of life in the camp, and gave the rest up for
dead. A few minutes later they heard a feeble cry, “there they are, the
boys, I knew they would come back,” the women said, and such a rejoicing
as there was. Manly says in his book that he wrote later, that when he
came upon the dead man lying there, his heart stood still, and that never
would he go through moments of such misery again for all the money in

22 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

the world.

It became a great task now to save our oxen. We had used all the
iron shoes, and had to depend upon moccasins for the oxen as well as for
ourselves. We made them from the hides, but some of the country was so
rough with rock, sharp as flint, that every day new moccasins had to be put
on the oxen,

We finally reached Death Valley, where we lost two men, Fish and
Isham, who were of the Brier party. One of our party went out hunting
water, Deacon Richards by name. Previdentially he found a spring, just
about dusk. He gave the usual sign and from that time up until midnight
the company came staggering in, but in the morning we found two missing.
We took water and started back and found them dead within a hundred
yards of each other. We named the spring Providence Spring, and it re-
tains its name to this day. It was always so when water was found, the
strongest came in first, and the weakest was last. Those first in returned
to help the others, and so long as they kept their courage there was hope,
but just as soon as they gave up a little they wouldn’t last long.

I remember one incident relating to this and that was the case of Cap-
tain Asa Haines. He was quite elderly compared with the rest of us, prob-
ably sixty years of age. He would remark, “Boys, if I only had the corn that
my hogs at home are rooting in the mud I would consider it the greatest
luxury imaginable,’ and then would cry like a baby. A few days later he
said to us, “Boys, I feel that I can’t go any further and I’ll have to leave
you”. I knew then that he would die soon, and told my mess-mate, Bill
Rude, that Captain Haines would not live until morning. We had each
saved two or three of our little biscuits and a couple of spoonfuls of rice.
I told Bill I was willing to give all I had to Asa Haines if he would. So we
took the last morsel we had saved, made a kind of stew of it and carried
this to Haines. He said, “Boys, you have saved my life’, and we knew we
had. It did us more good, yes ten times over, than if we had eaten it our-
selves.

We all thought a great deal of the Captain, and I have never felt so
satisfied in my life with a deed, as I did in knowing that I was the means
of helping to save a valuable life. He remained in California a short time,
and returned to Illinois, where he lived not more than three miles from my
father’s house. Father wrote me that Captain Haines often came to the
house and told him that his son saved his life in California. Bill Rude was
also a neighbor of his, and thought a great deal of him. He felt that we
could get to California and a few spoonfuls of food to us was nothing com-
pared to a human life.

From Providence Springs we crossed the range of mountains, and going
down the other side, one of the best oxen went over the cliff and broke his
back. We had to stop and make him into jerky. It seemed only a short
distance across to the snow mountains that loomed up in sight, but the
remainder of that day and the next went by before we came to water, which
has since been known as Indian Wells, owing to the water being in holes
or wells.

At this camp Manly and Rogers saw our light and thought us Indians,
until they heard my voice and they then knew we were “Jay Hawkers”.
They came into camp and were made welcome to all we had. We struck a

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 23

broad plain trail that we knew must lead to settlements and we resolved to
follow it no matter where it lead. It took a southerly direction instead of
a westerly, but we were bound to stay with the trail. We found out after-
wards that this trail was made by the Owen River Indians, or Piutes, who
made raids into the large ranches of California and ran off hundreds of
head of horses at a single drive. The Spaniards were afraid to follow, as
they would be outnumbered. A year or so afterward I stayed overnight at
Williams Ranch, where there were thousands and thousands of cattle and
horses, and the owner told me that he had made a treaty with the chief of
the Indians, presenting him with a fine horse and silver-mounted saddle,
and the Indians always knew his brand after that and never troubled him.

Manly and Rogers next morning took the trail and hurried, as they
were anxious to make the trip and get back to their company. We trav-
elled two more days, and then the trail ran right into an immense desert,
and we could scarcely see the mountains beyond. If the trail had not led
that way we never would have thought of facing such a dreary outlook. In
after years I found this was the Mohave Desert. Going on we found an
immense lot of bones all along the trial. After two days of travel we came
to a spring right in the middle of the desert. There was quite a patch of
willows growing around the water, and plenty water for our use, although
it ran but a few rods and then sank into the sand. While here we killed
another ox, and prepared the meat for jerky.

CHAPTER III.

It proved to be a long way to the mountains, for we were three days
and nights making the trip. Our progress was slow, and there was much
suffering. Many could travel but a few hundred yards at a time, and so the
weaker ones were hours behind in getting into camp. When water was
found the smoke was made and this would put new life and energy into the
weak ones. One man named Robinson, had become so weak we had to put
him on a poor little mule we had. He said in the morning he couldn’t make
it, but we thought he could on the mule. When within thirty or forty steps
of the camp fire he fell off. We tried to assist him, but he begged to be left
alone, saying he would come when rested. About fifteen minutes later, as
he hadn’t come in, we went to get him and found him dead. The next
morning we buried him as best we could, for the ground was hard and rocky
and we only had our knives to dig with, and our hands to throw out the
dirt. At this same camp a Frenchman, his name not known, became insane
and after wandering away was captured by the Indians and kept a slave for
fourteen years. He was finally rescued by a United States surveying party
and brought to the settlements.

At this watering place the trail seemed to be obliterated and from here
we ascended a long hill, or divide, and after crossing saw a brook with run-
ning water, the first we had seen for months. It looked good to us, and
we concluded it must empty into the Pacific Ocean, which was correct, for
this proved to be the headwaters of the Santa Clara River that empties into
the ocean near San Buena Ventura. Here we found timber and signs of
game,—the tracks of a grizzly bear where we had crossed the creek. Three
of us started after him, and followed the tracks till dark. We camped on

24 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

the tracks, intending to follow him next morning. I stood watch the first
half of the night, and the other two were to take the last half. I called
them and then crawled under the blanket, and in a moment I was asleep,
but the boys never got up. In the morning when I awoke I could hardly get
my breath, so I threw back the blanket and found the snow fully four
inches deep. This ended the bear hunt, and when we got back to camp we
found the oxen had stampeded and had run away beyond all recovery. This
left us with one ox, and we would not have had him only some one had
happened to be leading him. This was all we had left out of sixteen we
left Salt Lake with, besides two horses. It was only our mess, or division
that lost the cattle. The others were further behind and did not get into
the stampede. We didn’t mind much, as we felt we were now in a game
country and could live anyway, but we didn’t find game so plentiful.

The next game we came across, was an old mare and two colts, a
yearling and a two-year-old. Ed Doty and Bill Rude happened to be ahead
and got all three of them. We camped right there and built a fire and went
to eating. I thought I never had eaten anything that tasted as good. They
had a little fat on them and that was what tasted so good to us. We ate the
old mare up that night and made jerky of the colts to pack along. As Rev.
Mr. Brier was well supplied with oxen, he kindly permitted us to pack one
or two of his oxen.

Two or three days later some of the boys killed a deer, and some of us
stayed back to dry the meat, and the rest went on. Among those that stayed
was old man Gould, as we called him, and he and I tried to sleep together.
We had only one single blanket between us and he wouldn’t pull his boots
off. He said if he had to die he wanted to die with his boots on. He
seemed a little off in his mind, and by the way, there were two in our party
who never did get entirely in their right minds again. The next day
brought us out into the most beautiful valley I ever saw in all my life,
Paradise, in fact. It was covered with thousands of cattle feeding, and
they looked so fat and sleek, I never had anything that impressed me as
that sight did, I felt as though I could stand there and gaze on it forever.

After coming off the desert the contrast was beyond all description.
The boys that were ahead of us, when they came to the cattle, shot three or
four. It seemed to them that each man could eat a steer. The Spaniards
heard the shooting and didn’t know what to make of it, but gathered such
arms and other implements as they had, and came out to where the boys
were. They did not know then what they were, as the boys were so ema-
ciated and ragged. In fact our boys didn’t pay much attention to them, for
they were too busy skinning and tearing off the fat parts of the meat and
eating it just as it was. They hadn’t taken time to start a fire to cook it.
It just happened that we had a man with us that had been in the Mexican
War, and he knew little Spanish. His name was Tom Shannon. When the
Spaniards saw the condition of the company they said, “Buena Mericanas”,
and told them to come on down to the Ranch and they would kill an animal
for them there, but the boys wouldn’t take any chances, and they began to
load themselves with beef. The Spaniards told them that was too much
hard work. The boys marched down to the ranch about four miles distant,
and when they arrived, found a bullock already slaughtered. The boys went
at once to eating roasted meat, and eating all they could stuff. This came

‘“‘THE EMIGRANT TRAIN,”’ From a painting by Andrew P. Hill

“THE JAYHAWKERS IN DEATH VALLEY,’’ From Manly’s ‘‘Death Valley in ’49”’

THE START AND THE FINISH OF THE EMIGRANT’S JOURNEY

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 25

near killing some of them, as it was too rich for their weakened condition.
We were lucky in being a day behind and profited by their experience. We
ate sparingly at first, a little at a time. I know the first night at the ranch
I got up two or three times in the night and roasted me a piece of beef. In
fact I couldn’t sleep from thinking how good the meat was. It did taste
good, though our stomachs craved fat more than anything else, even castor
oil tasted fine. This ranch lies on the Santa Clara River, and is called San
Franciscita, and was owned by Del Vule. The manager was Jose Saluzur,
and in fiction the ranch was the home of Ramona.

We certainly were well treated. They gave us everything they had,
such as beef, corn, milk, wheat, and chilipeppers and offered us money, but
of course we could not accept money, as they had been so kind. Some of
the boys had money and offered to pay for what had been furnished us, but
they wouldn’t take a cént. In fact they were the most hospitable people I
ever was among where the country was first settled, but that state of
affairs changed after a few years.

After being at this ranch for a day or two, we thought we would have
a bath in that beautiful stream of water. Upon removing my clothes I was
actually frightened. I found I was nothing but a skeleton. My thighs were
not larger than my arm, and the knee joints were like knots on a limb, and
on my hip bone the skin was calussed as thick as sole leather and just as
hard, caused by lying on the hard ground and rocks. We were all of us in
a pitiful condition, hardly fit subjects for a picture show. After recuperat-
ing a few days at the ranch we began to try to make arrangements for get-
ting on to the mines. Some went one way and some another, and some
came up by water from San Pedro, which was a very wise thing to do.

But we all did not have the money to do that, and I was one of that
number, so, instead of starting up the Coast via San Buena Ventura, I went
to Los Angeles to take a start from there. I was only there three or four
days, when I found an opportunity to come along with a couple of men who
were buying up pack mules. I could travel with them if I could furnish my
own saddle and help drive the mules. So I paid four dollars for a saddle
tree, or what the Spaniards call a busta. This left me with only a dollar.
Everything went well enough until we arrived at Santa Barbara. I had been
in the habit of taking the mules out to graze every morning as soon as it
was light enough, so at Santa Barbara I did the same thing, but it happened
to be a cold stormy morning, and rain poured down. I had no coat, just a
woolen shirt, and no vest, and the mules were very hard to manage. They
wanted to travel with the storm in spite of all I could do. Time went on
and I kept getting colder and colder. Ten o’clock came, and no relief party
hove in sight as had been the custom up to that time, but I supposed it
was a little too stormy for them to turn out. And the longer I waited and
the more I thought of it, the madder I got. I gave the mules a good scare,
and they went a flying, and I turned and broke for shelter. By this time
we had drifted with the storm about four miles, and I had to face the storm
going back. When I entered the dining room where the pair were smoking
their pipes by a good warm fire, the first greeting I got was “Where are
those mules gone to?” Then I let loose on them and don’t know what I told
them, but it wasn’t anything very pretty. There was a large butcher knife
lying on the table near by and I kept my eye on that and was careful to

26 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

stand near it, but they were great cowards, both of them, and did not try
taking revenge at that time. They certainly were brutal taking advantage
of a poor helpless boy and imposing on him in that manner.

This left me stranded in Santa Barbara with a single dollar, so in order
to make my dollar go as far as I could I would buy me a piece of beef and
a few crackers, or hard tack, and go out to where there was a big log
burning just on the outskirts of the town. I kept this up for a few days
until an old Spanish woman, who had seen me making my trips out to the
old log, finally hailed me and asked, “Why don’t you come here and eat?”
Of course I could not understand a word she said, but she just made me
understand by bringing out her friholes, tortillas, meat and coffee, and
putting them before me. I understood what she meant then and she made it
plain that she wanted me to come every day and for every meal. She
seemed to have plenty, and evidently she could see by my looks that I
needed fattening. I hadn’t gained any flesh as yet and my cheek bones
stood out quite prominently. I spent most of my time trying to find some
work, but there was no building going on, and as I had no knowledge of
Spanish there were no openings for work. I believe there was but one
American there and he kept a grocery store, but he had nothing for me to’
do. Prospects looked gloomy, and I was two thousand miles from home,
with no money. I had suffered everything but death to get there, and was
still some five or six hundred miles from my destination, the mines. How
to reach the mines was a problem. I knew I could walk but had no money
to help me on the way. While in this quandary some emigrant wagons
drove in, and camped at the old log where I first cooked my meat. The
teams all belonged to a man called Dallas. There were four of them and
they proved to be a part of our original train of 105 wagons and Old Dallas
was one of the parties who had turned back and taken up Captain Hunt’s
trail. As I had a partial acquaintance with him to begin with, but I knew
him better by his reputation and that wasn’t the best. I thought if I could
make some arrangements with him whereby I could reach the mines I didn’t
care much if he did get the best of the bargain. After talking with him we
made an agreement that he should board me at the price of twelve dollars
a week, and give me the privilege of riding in the wagon, as I was still too
weak to attempt heavy walking, and I wanted to be in good condition to
work when I reached the mines. I was to pay for my passage when I got
work in the mines. Everything was satisfactory, and we started; about
two days out one of the drivers said he had a lame back, Dallas came to
me and asked me to take the man’s place, saying he would make it allright
with me. For five weeks I drove the team through wet grass up to my
waist in many places. If the sun happened to be out my clothes would
hardly be dry before noon. This was an every morning occurrence, and still
the man’s back continued to be lame, for it was much easier riding in the
wagon than walking and driving the team.

At one place a tree had fallen across the road, and had been partially
cut away, but when I attempted to pass, the tree stove in the end gate of
the wagon. There was but one thing to do and that was to cut the tree off,
and while I was busy doing this “Old Dallas” came up and started his
abuse. He stopped at nothing in his tirade, and I stood it as long as I
could, finally starting for him, telling him he had gone too far already. He

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 27

ran around the wagon, keeping the wagon between us, and by this time
others of the party came up and quiet was restored again. This ended my
driving team, for I told him I would’nt drive another step for him.

We finally reached and passed through San Jose, about March, 1850.
The Legislature was in session here, and at this time San Jose was nothing
but a Greaser settlement of adobe shanties, dives and all manner of gamb-
ling dens were running full force. Santa Clara street ran to Third, and
after that you ran into the mustard. In fact three or four blocks from the
center of town in any direction you got into the mustard, which was so
thick and high it was well nigh impassable, except in the trails made by
cattle.

Going towards San Jose Mission we passed two houses, the first was
occupied by Mr. Vestal, about a mile from town, and in the second house
Jim Murphy lived. Just beyond the crossing of Coyote Creek some Alviso’s
lived near the foothills on the east side of the valley. On the road, where
Milpitas now is, there was nothing but a horse corral, and in Milpitas I
built the first cabin in 1852.

Passing the Mission we came into the Livermore Valley, and Livermore
himself lived there at the time and offered me work at two hundred dollars
a month and board. He had a building he wanted done, but we passed on.
We reached the San Joaquin Plains, and they looked very beautiful, for at
this time they were covered with wild flowers, and were level as far as eye
could see. The plains resembled the Illinois prairies more than anything I
had seen on the whole trip. There were bands of wild horses, or mustangs
as they were called, and herds and herds of elk and antelope,—there seemed
to be no limit to them.

I never saw so much game in such a space of country, excepting the
buffalo on the plains. It seemed as if there was wild game enough to feed
a nation. Speaking of game, California was the best country I ever saw;
one could go anywhere in the State, and find all the game he wished.

We crossed the San Joaquin River at Bounsall’s ferry, just where the
railroad crosses now. The old man’s heart was nearly broken when he
found he had to pay a fee of ten dollars a wagon and a dollar a yoke for the
oxen in order to ferry; but it was either pay or stay on that side of the river.
Fifteen miles brought us to Stockton, and on the day we arrived I had been
just one year on the road, with the exception of six weeks I spent in Salt
Lake. Everything was lively in Stockton. Buildings of all kinds were being
rushed, and lumber was selling for three hundred dollars a thousand, at that
time all the lumber came around the Horn, and carpenters’ wages were an
ounce or sixteen dollars a day. There were many cloth houses, tents of
all kinds, and shacks of every description. Some of the better houses cost
one hundred and fifty thousand dollars and over. Freighting charges were
from six to ten cents a pound to the mines. People were flocking to the
mines, some walking with their blankets strapped on their backs; some
were in stages; some on mule back; but all were trying to reach the gold

district. Many came back and reported the whole thing a hoax and a
failure. ,

28 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

CHAPTER IV.

My first experience in mining was at Merced River, where I paid six-
teen dollars for a shovel, eight dollars for a pick, fifty dollars for a rocker,
four for a gold pan, and thirty-two dollars for a pair of boots. Everything
else was in proportion, and vegetables were out of the question, as I saw a
man pay a dollar and a half for a single onion.

My success varied from day to day, for on one day I wouldn’t make an
ounce, and on others maybe two ounces or more. The general belief was
that if the bars paid so well in gold the bed of the river ought to prove a
harvest. So we formed a company to turn the river, and about twenty of
us undertook the job. An Indian squaw man, Jim Savage, had told us that
his Indians had waded into the river when it was low and had taken out
an ounce to the bater, or wooden bowl. This was at the horse shoe bend
of the river, and after much hard work we succeeded in turning the river,
and where we expected to shovel gold, we found but ten or fifteen cents to
the pan. We found out afterwards that this man was known as the biggest
liar at the mines, and later, while in a quarrel with Major Harvey, he was
shot dead. After we found out our work was all for naught we broke camp
and scattered to all parts of the mines. I drifted over on the Tuolumne
River, to a place called Hurts Bar, and started work at a half ounce a day.
A company of twenty had been formed to turn the river, and one of the
interested parties wished me to take his place, as he wanted to prospect.
After three or four weeks work I wanted to see some money, so the com-
pany called a miners meeting and voted me this man’s share of the
mine. I knew this would hold good, as miners laws stood preeminent to all
others, but the man never came back so I was never molested. We finally
turned the river and work began in earnest. The strike was rich, and we
took out gold by the pound.

Our largest day’s work yielded twenty-four pounds avoirdupois weight;
in Troy weight it would have amounted to 32 pounds at that time. Hardly
a day passed but what we took out eight pounds, and we were much encour-
aged and worked hard. We kept three rockers running. The largest part
of the work consisted in keeping the water bailed out, and around the edge
of the water was a yellow streak of gold. It looked fine, and all went joy-
fully for about three weeks when the rains began unusually early. We had
no tents, nothing but brush shanties, and the rain just poured down all
night. We had to stand up around the fire with a blanket around us. This
was about the twentieth of September, and the next day about two P. M.
we heard a terrible roaring of water coming down the river. We hardly
had time to get our tools out of the claim until the water was upon us. It
seemed about fifteen feet high. There were three dams above us, and the
swelling of the waters took the first when the next gave way, and so on,
and by the time the water reached us it was fully fifteen feet high, and the
river rose in less time than it takes to write it. We had no dam, as we
had taken the water from the other side of the river and brought it over in
an aqueduct to a bar where we had a chance to extend the canal. We had
made the aqueduct of whip-sawed lumber and had brought it down off the
mountain by hand. It was about one hundred feet long, sixteen feet wide
and four feet deep, and this will show the amount of work we had put into

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 29

it. When the water thundered down the river it struck the aqueduct in the
middle, and it parted and went down the river like chaff before the wind.
One or two little incidents happened which I must mention. A man came
down the river on the opposite shore, he gazed at the water for some min-
utes, and then plunged in, thinking to swim that torrent. He was carried
down the stream, and we saw his head once in a while on the crest of the
waves. He finally landed on a rock, about fifteen feet from the shore on
the side he went in on. In a few minutes along came a grizzly bear, close
to us, but he paid no attention to us but plunged right into the river and
swam almost straight across. We were right at the head of a canyon, and
the water ran at a fierce speed, but that bear swam that river almost in a
direct line, and seemed to do it without any effort.

So far as river mining was concerned we knew the season was over,
and the men began preparations to leave and go prospecting. About this
time a man came along who had owned the upper dam, with fifty-five Mex-
icans. He proposed to work our mine with his Mexicans on shares. He
proposed to throw in a wing dam, and turn one half the river on the other
side and give us one-third of all he took out. Some of the men didn’t have
much faith, but as he was bearing all the expense, they concluded to let
him go ahead.

The usual method in building wing dams is to build two walls of rocks,
an outer and an inner wall, commencing at the shore, running out half way
across the river, and keeping them about two feet apart. The outer wall
is made tight with canvas on the inside, and the space between the two
walls is filled with sand, canvass preventing the water from washing the
sand away. This makes the dam tight. In the same manner the walls are
built down stream. Our company were all anxious to get away, and I was
asked to stay to look after the interest of the mine. Then Jim Murrell, the
man who had leased the mine, wanted me to take charge of his work, as I
Was going to stay anyway. But I couldn’t talk Spanish fluently, so I hesi-
tated, but finally agreed to take charge of the work for a half ounce a day.
Jim stayed around for a day or two, and then he was off. In fact he was a
Texan gambler, and didn’t give his personal attention to any work. I didn’t
see anything more of him for about two weeks, and by this time I had the
work well in hand, and he seemed to be much pleased with the condition
of things.

I think I never had charge of a better crew of men, they worked will-
ingly and well. Maybe it was because they hadn’t had their summer’s pay
as yet, but however, they seemed to take an interest, and worked splen-
didly. The next time Jim came around I had commenced taking out gold,
and it was just as rich as ever. At night I had to keep close watch for
fear the gold would be stolen from before my eyes. If the gold was stolen
it wasn’t because I didn’t keep close watch, but because they were too
‘quick for me. Sometimes I would have many thousands of dollars on hand
and only a bush shanty for protection, then I would pack it in with one
‘of the men and take it up to Jacksonville, where there was a store and a
safe to deposit it.

This was done over and over again, the distance to Jacksonville being
about two miles and a half. We worked until December, as the season hap-
pened to be fairly dry, but soon the rain came and we ceased operations

30 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

for the season. We gathered together as many of the company as we could
find, and had a settlement. Those present drawing out their share, and the
balance being left in the safe until called for. Jim Murrell made enough to
pay all his men, and had enough dust left when he came to me to double
my wages, giving me an ounce a day instead of a half, telling me I had
handled the Mexicans so ably and directed the work so well that I deserved
the extra half ounce.

From there I went up to a Chinese camp about five miles distant, and
took up some placer claims, about thirty feet square to a claim. The pros-
pects were fine. From the grass down to the bed rock, about four feet, it
paid from one bit to four bits on the bed rock. So I commenced work,
throwing up dirt for the winter’s work, and making excavations to hold the
water when the rain started. I caught enough water with the first rain to
wash up a few pans of dirt, netting me five dollars, but the water gave out.

I built a log cabin, the first cabin I had lived in since being in the
country. During all this time, I had never had a coat, in fact one
hardly needed a coat, and it was the fashion amongst miners to go without
a coat. Early in the spring I went down on Woods Creek and worked on
the bars with fair success. It was the custom if a claim didn’t pay an ounce
to the man, we would abandon it, and as mining excitements were always
springing up, or stampedes as they called them, we didn’t stay long on a
poor claim.

So I went on about one hundred and fifty miles to a new camp called
Fine Gold Gulch, but before I went, I went back to the Chinese Claims to
see what I could do with them. I kept my title good by leaving tools in the
hole, as that was the custom for holding a claim. If the tools were removed
the claim was supposed to be abandoned, and could be jumped. I sold the
claims for thirty dollars and with the promise if they paid more I was to
have a share.

The men had gone to Stockton and bought dump carts and horses and
hauled the dirt to a spring three-quarters of a mile away, and there washed
out the gold, twenty-one thousand dollars by fall.

We found the Indians bad at Gold Gulch, and very little gold was found.
I stayed for two months and then left the mines in disgust and went to
Stockton to work in the hay yards. A few days later I met some boys from
Illinois with whom I had gone to school. The Gillette boys had three or four
mules and wanted me to take charge of the hay bailing.

I had a chance to buy a half interest in a mule team and turned it in
on work for the Gillette boys. They paid three hundred dollars a month
for ourselves and team and paid all expense. They had a hay yard at So-
nora and one at Columbia, and the hay was sold as fast as it was hauled for
one hundred and fifty dollars a ton. They had a hay yard in Stockton
which I took charge of. Adjoining this yard was a livery stable kept by
Wolfe Dallas, or “Old Dallas” as we used to call him. “Old Dallas” had a
race horse that he thought pretty fast. There was another character,
Headsputh by name, who also had a race horse called the Headsputh colt,
and also a fake race horse called the same name. This fellow had the fake
colt painted to resemble the race horse and kept him at Dallas’ stable.
Headsputh bragged about his colt, and Dallas argued his could beat the
colt. One moonlight night, Dallas took the horses out for a trial, while

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 31

Headsputh kept hid watching him, and of course the Dallas horse ran right
away from the colt, but Headsputh said nothing and continued to brag
about his colt. So the race was made for twenty thousand dollars to be
run at Oakland.

Dallas got all his friends in on this sure thing, and when the race was
won and the genuine colt ran away with the race “Old Dallas” cried like a
baby. This about broke him, but the people didn’t seem to feel sorry for
him and I thought this might be payment for all his meanness.

CHAPTER V.

Late in the fail I left Stockton for Santa Clara Valley to try farming.
I bought the other half interest in the mule team and joined a party of
seven men that had leased five hundred acres. I wasn’t in partnership with
them but had all the work I cculd do with my team. One of the party went
back East and shipped out two thrashing machines, and two McCormick
reapers, which were about the first in the valley. I was the only one in the
number who understood the machines, as I had had two years experience in
the East with them. I put all the machines together, and ran them. One
of the threshers they sold to Old Jimmie Murphy and they also sold one of
the reapers. Threshing was three bits a bushel for barley. We kept busy
the entire season, until the rains forced us to stop.

Speaking about the forty thieves—by the name one would think they
really were a band of thieves, but from my acquaintance with most of them
I took them to be honorable and upright men, at least those I knew were,
such as Isaac Branham, Hon. Houghton Quivey, Capt. Aram, Chas. White,
John Kearney and others who stood well in the community. Under the Mex-
ican Government certain lands were granted to Pueblo de San Jose in the
year 1847. The capital at that time was at Monterey but in 1849, when Cal-
ifornia became a state they began to seek a more suitable place as at that
time most of the population was in the northern and central part of the
state, as the mining interests predominated largely, San Jose was one of
the most important places at that time, and it was selected as the proper
place. Consequently, there had to be a capitol building erected and certain
ones advanced the money for the erection of the building and many other
purposes also, and the Legisalture of 1849 and 1850, convened in said Pueblo
at that time. Owing to the indebtedness for the erection of the building,
the commissioners or the Legislature, I am not sure which, set aside the
Pueblo lands to satisfy the claimants and each one was granted five hun-
dred acres. It will have to be considered also that land at that time was not
very valuable around San Jose.

The company I was interested with leased from White and Kearney 500
acres of this Pueblo land for farming purposes. There were five of us inter-
ested in the venture. I speak of it as a venture as it was not well known
then, in 1851, that anything could be raised without irrigation. That year
demonstrated the fact thoroughly that farming could be done successfully
here without irrigation. While living there and seeing so much land lying
about loose, the thought struck me that I might have some of it as well as
not. Believing myself to be an American citizen, I proceeded to take up and
claim a hundred and sixty acres where Milpitas is now situated and built a

32 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

house thereon, which was the beginning of Milpitas. I think the house is
still standing. Soon after that some of our company with myself, concluded
to go to the lower country and buy cattle, so I sold my interest in Milpitas
for a small sum, but have always kept it in fondest recollection.

Down near the San Jose Mission, there was quite a little Mormon set-
tlement and we were reaping the Mun’s crop, who was a Mormon and after-
wards he bought the machine we were running while there. Parly P. Pratt
came there from Australia with a young woman that he said was his spirit-
ual wife. Well, she had spirit enough for two as far as spirit goes. When
we were all called in for dinner into the dining room, there was Pratt with
his wife in his lap and she combing his whiskers with her fingers. I thought
it took some spirit to do that right before us all, but it may have been an
evil spirit. I will speak of Mr. Pratt later. We proceeded with the usual
routine as is generally practiced in farming operations, until the harvesting
and threshing was completed and as I had no interest in the grain crop I
concluded to plant potatoes and succeeded in getting fifty acres planted. It
was almost impossible to get seed potatoes to plant, so had to plant such as
I could get, which proved to be very poor, just the cullings. The conse-
quence was they never came up only at long distances apart and the result
was never a potato was dug, showing what a little thing that will prove
either for or against. If my crop had turned out well, it would have made
me a fortune as they were very high that year, the price commencing at
potato-digging time at four cents per pound and gradually increasing in
price until they ran up to fourteen cents per pound. The boys, having fif-
teen acres adjoining mine sold them at four cents a pound and netted them
five thousand dollars. My fifty acres would have brought me at the lowest
price fifty thousand dollars.

Horner Down, near the Mission, had in fifteen hundred acres in potatoes
that year and sold to Beard in the ground. Beard cleared sixty thousand
dollars on the deal—that was in 1852, and in 1853 they were not worth
digging.

Thousands of sacks were emptied into the Bay in order to save the
sacks. Over-production was the cause and no place to ship them to. When
threshing season came on, I, as it happened, was the principal spoke in the
wheel to make the machinery go, so with myself and the use of my mule
team was able to earn ten dollars a day. By the time the season closed
i had earned quite a little, even if I did lose my potato crop. It was not to
be for me or I would have had it, consequently I never grieved over it.

The next venture was to go to the lower country and buy cattle. We
used to cail Los Angeles, San Diego, and all that country down there, the
lower country. Some of the boys on the ranch, including myself (I think
there were five of us all together) tried to get started, but it was very hard.
We stayed in San Jose for nearly a week waiting for the water to go down
so we could get to Alviso to take a boat for San Francisco. We started at
6 A. M., and we arrived at Alviso at 3 P. M. I know I waded the bigger
part of the way and carried a woman on my back. I told her it was the
only way I could carry her and it was either that or wade the same as I
was doing. There were here and there little knolls where I could let her
down and get my wind for she was pretty heavy. After some of the pas-
sengers would get the stage picked out of the mud and come along where

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 33

we were resting, we would all get in again and perhaps within another hun-
dred yards down the stage would go to the axle and then the same thing
had to be gone through with again. I began to get pretty tired of my pack,
but there was no getting out of it. She considered that she had gotten
slightly acquainted with me by riding on my back and wouldn’t think of
changing on to a strange back. I never had seen the woman before or since.
A long time after I was very slow in showing my gallantry as far as the
ladies were concerned, for fear of getting into another job of packing. We
finally got on board the boat and the bay was very rough and the dear lady
that I had carried to Alviso was so sick, yes she was awful sick.

We had to lay in San Francisco for several days, the steamers refused
to go outside in such rough weather and the only thing we could do was to
wait. One or two boats started and before getting outside the heads re-
turned again to the wharf. Passage at that time from San Francisco to San
Pedro was forty-five dollars and four dollars more to Los Angeles in the
stages and mule team. Ours happened to be a mule team and the driver
said he had never drove stage much before, but give him an oxen team and
he would not lay down the whip to any one. We would occasionally get
out and load ourselves with rocks and clods of dirt to cheer the mules on
the road, as I thought we never would get there. At that time the Express
Company charged three percent for carrying money from San Francisco to
Los Angeles, so we had our state room and carried our own money. Some
one would always be in the state room. We could insure our passage
money by carrying all the gold coin ourselves. Nearly all the gold was in
fifty dollar slugs and very inconvenient to carry. When we arrived at Los
Angeles we deposited it in a safe. It was estimated that there was a mil-
lion dollars deposited in different safes belonging to cattle men. Upon ar-
riving there one of our number was all broke out with the smallpox and I
had slept with him the night before. I knew it was no use to run from it
then, so I stayed with him until he was well and never took it either; since
then I have been exposed to it several times and never have taken it on
any occasion. My partner and I buried a baby that had died with it; we
were the only mourners, in fact the only ones there.

After a time, we went up to San Bernardino. We had heard that the
Mormons had driven a good many cattle there from Salt Lake City, which
we found to be true. They were all work oxen and in fine condition. We
were there several weeks buying up cattle as long as we had the money to
buy with. While there and just across the street from where I was board-
ing, lived the wife of Parly P. Pratt and by some means she learned my
name was Stephens, and she had been a Stephens before her marriage to
Pratt, and she thought sure we must be in some way related, therefore she
sent for me to come and see them. She was the former and first wife of
Parly P., and had two fine looking grown daughters. I not only spent a
very pleasant evening with them, but a good many more following, but we
couldn’t figure out any relationship. Parly P. was not there. I suppose he
was off somewhere hunting up some more spiritualists. Well, the old lady
never mentioned his name while I was there, neither did I tell her of his
Australia Spiritual wife that I had seen combing his whiskers with her fin-
gers. Too bad that as fine a woman as she appeared to be should have to
submit to the brutality of such men and he one of the twelve apostles and

34 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

one of the guiding lights of the church. Speaking of Pratt I might as well
follow him up to a finish. In 1855, by some means or other, he became
acquainted with a family by the name of McPlune and kept making frequent
visits there. They were living in San Francisco and the wife became very
much in love with him and he finally succeeded in having her sealed to him
and becoming a Spiritual wife. This was all unknown to her husband.
Finally McPlune became somewhat suspicious and forbid his coming there
any more, and it grew worse and worse. At last he concluded to leave the
country and removed his family to Arkansas and with the same year Pratt
followed up and when the man was absent from home, he abducted the wife
and two children. When McPlune returned some of his friends told him what
had happened. He took a friend or two with him and overtook the fleeing
party and shot Pratt from the horse he was riding and killed him. That
was the end of Parly P. Prat’s career in the Spiritual wife business.

On the way up the Coast with our cattle I will have to mention a little
incident that was a rather thrilling experience, at least for a little while.
One night when we were camping, one of the steers died and by morning
he had been entirely eaten up by the grizzly bears. There must have been
several of them to have eaten a whole oxen. When we were ready to start,
I told the boys that I would take a gun and go over the hills and perhaps I
might find a deer as they were plentiful. After traveling perhaps a mile
or so I saw a grizzly bear off in the distance digging, turning over chunks
to get the worms and bugs, I suppose. There happened to be a small tree
near the bear, and between the bear and me, the moss was grown over so
thick I could not see through it. In order to get a shot at the bear I turned
the horse a little to one side and the minute he saw the bear he jumped and
shied and I could do nothing with him. In the meantime the bear was
standing on his hind feet and his arms stretched out ready to receive com-
pany, and without thinking I jumped from the horse’s back and let Mr. Bear
have it right between the out-stretched arms. I remember seeing the bear
hit himself with his paw, where the ball had struck him and that was all I
did see for a while, for the horse made off as fast as he could run and I
was hanging on to the rope that was around his neck. He ran for about a
hundred and fifty yards before stopping and as he stopped I was sure the
bear had me, but I arose and looked back and there the bear was making
off in the opposite direction, for which I was deeply grateful. I was not
hurt much except the wild oats had almost whipped my eyes out. I went
back and gathered up my gun and began to make some discoveries and
found a center shot had been given the bear and at every leap he had left
a stream of blood. I followed him for about a half mile and then he went
down into a deep gulch full of brush and so I gave up the chase, but I know
that I gave him a mortal wound. This was quite a picnic to have all alone.

On arriving at San Jose with our cattle we were offered 18 cents per
pound for all we had by a San Francisco butcher. This was a good price,
and two of us wanted to sell and three wanted to hold on to the cattle and
drive them up into the mines, where we could get a great deal more for
them, so the minority had to submit to the majority.

So we drove on up and stopped in the neighborhood of Sacramento and
looked around through the mines for a purchaser, but 16 cents was the best
offer we ever had and the consequence was that I sold out my interest to

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 35

the other boys and waited for my pay until they could sell them, which was
not until the next winter and they then brought them one hundred and
twenty-seven dollars per head. They had cost us just forty-nine dollars
per head, including all expenses. After selling my interest in the cattle I
went to San Francisco and bought a couple of teams and went to hauling
lumber. Up to that time all the lumber was hauled on drags and they could
not handle the long lumber very well. I was among the first to start dou-
ble teams. I don’t think there was more than half a dozen teams in San
Francisco at that time and I had all I could do at almost any price I wished
to ask, and did well in the venture. The next winter I sold out my teams
and was ready for the lower country again to drive cattle.

Speaking of the company in the cattle business there was one with
whom, by mutual agreement, I became great friends, by name M. S. Wilson.
In fact we were together for about eleven years and most of that time in
partnership. We were scmetimes dubbed as David and Jonathan. Finally
someone stepped in and cut me out and I never felt much grieved over it,
for I could not blame him very much, as the other partner and rival hap-
pened to be a beautiful young lady of Santa Clara and one of the Chandler
family. As for my own part, I did not yield to such temptation until 1867,
when I too raised the white flag and surrendered and said farewell to bach-
elordom and married Miss Julia Ludlum of San Francisco. I have never
regretted the rash deed and hope to live through the short time allotted us
as genial and pleasantly as in the past.

I took the steamer again for San Pedro, thence by stage to Los Angeles,
with about the same routine as the year before. I canvassed the different
ranches and it was hard to buy cattle that year. The Spaniards had gotten
the idea that the cattle buyers were making too much money and that they
would drive their own cattle, which quite a number of them did.

Among other places we visited was San Bernardino and there we saw
some of the people we had become acquainted with the previous year,
among them was Mrs. Parly P. Pratt and her fair daughters.

By this time the Mormons at Salt Lake were going to go to war with
the United States and were calling in all their outside settlements to Salt
Lake. At Sar Bernardino they were selling off their property for anything
they could get to get a team to go with. In fact they were just giving away
good homes and sacrificing everything just because Brigham and the
Church authorities had so ordered. Among others that were going back was
Captain Hunt, our old guide of ’49. I was boarding with his son-in-law, but
he was not strong enough in the faith to follow the rest. Captain Hunt had
an unmarried daughter that I knew pretty well, and, of course, she was or-
dered to go with her parents, so she started and had gotten out on the des-
ert about a hundred miles from the starting point, and while all were asleep
she quietly rose and saddled one of the best mules and returned to San
Bernardino. I was not very much surprised at seeing her as she had told
me she was not going back to Salt Lake, and I guess she meant it.

After buying what cattle we wanted, amounting to seven hundred and
fifty head, we made a start, and as they were all wild, right off the range,
they gave us a good deal of bother and anxiety for several days and nights.
At first they would stampede three or four times of a night. They would
start as quick as a gun-shot from a lying position to a dead run at one jump.

36 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

It was most increditable how quick they could all get into a dead run and
consequently all hands had to be on guard night after night because all
we had was at stake. I would get so worn out for want of sleep that I
could see fire flashes before my eyes. I didn’t know hardly whether I was
asleep or awake and all the others were in a like condition; but after about
a week we had no more trouble and drove on up the coast road without any
great mishaps.

At San Buenaventura we lost some horses that had gotten away from
the herd during the night and as soon as daylight came I went out after
them and took a Spanish man with me. At about three miles away we over-
took two of them and I sent them back with the Spaniard and rode pretty
fast after the other five and in going across the valley I saw them at a
distance rising the hill just beyond the valley, so I rode as fast as my horse
could travel, but at the top of the hill I lost their tracks. Two of them had
trail ropes and were very easily trailed so I searched the country round
for miles, but could get no trace of them. I met one or two droves of cattle
and the vaquero told me they were sure they had not passed them, so I
traveled until dark and no sign of them. So I took the saddle off of my
horse and let him graze tied to my leg, as I could not stake him out for
fear the coyotes would cut him loose and leave me afoot many miles from
anywhere. As soon as daylight came I started to a Spanish ranch a few
miles away, where I had been the day before, and where I made inquiry,
but they said they had seen no stray horses. I inquired if I could get some
breakfast, and they said I could and by the way I had not eaten anything
since the day I started out. After eating a pretty hearty breakfast and
getting a little corn for my horse, paying my bill and getting in the saddle,
I let loose on them with all the bad Spanish I could think of. I started on
knowing full well that they were the ones that had stolen the horses and
had them hid away.

I had gone perhaps three or four miles on the road back when I hap-
pened to look around and here were eight men coming on horseback. They
were not very far away and I saw that I had to prepare and prepare quick,
for I knew they were after me, but as luck was in my favor I saw a wash
in a dry creek at one side, the bank of which was about twenty feet high. I
immediately turned my horse in the creek and had the high bank for pro-
tection on one side, therefore they could not surround me. They all had
their loops ready to lassoo me and drag me, for that is one of the ways
they have of putting people to death. I allowed them to come up within
about 40 yards and then told them to stop. I had a good Colts Navy revolver
in my holster and on my saddle, as it was my custom to carry it there. By
this time I had it in my hand and ready for business. When I told them
to halt they all ran their horses together and held a little consultation about
what to do. They talked quite low, but I could understand them to say
“It’s no use now, we will go on and maybe we will get him later.” So when
they started on I started immediately after. Soon they turned a point and
were out of my sight and there I saw my chance to escape. I turned off
from the road and followed a dry ravine or gulch that ran at right angles
with the road and pretty well up towards the divide between there and
another stream several miles away. That left the divide between me and
my assailants, for I was satisfied that they had kept to the road and lay in

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 37

ambush for me. The stream that I struck emptied into the same valley, but
several miles away, and by riding pretty fast I would come into the road
ahead of them even if they had kept on the road.

I got to San Buenaventura some time after dark, it may have been nine
o’clock, and was looking around for a place to sleep for a few hours, as I
was by this time pretty tired, but not so tired as my horse was. In re-
connoitering around for a good place I saw a campfire but a little way off,
and I thought sure I had run into a band of robbers, but crept up a little
nearer and soon I saw a woman and then a child, and pretty soon a man or
two, and so I walked bravely into the camp and they proved to be a camp
of immigrants on their way to the upper country, and they soon had the cof-
fee pot on and the meat a frying, and gave me a good supper, which I can
assure you I had a pretty good appetite for. They had a great many ques-
tions to ask about California and I was very glad to give them what infor-
mation I could as they had been so kind to me. I insisted on starting before
daylight and get back to camp as I knew my partners would be getting un-
easy about me, but they would not listen to my leaving before breakfast as
I did not know how long I would have to travel before overtaking our party
with the cattle. They gave me an early breakfast and also supplied me with
blankets as I had none with me except my saddle blanket. I had used that
the night previous and it was all wet with sweat from the horse. I had not
proceeded more than three or four miles before I met one of the boys
starting back to see if he could find me. They did not know what had be-
come of me as I had been gone two days and nights among a lot of cut-
throats and thieves. I would have been murdered had it not been for my
trusty revolver. I, at that time was a dead shot, 40 or 50 yards, as I was
in constant practice and had made some fine shots at game, such as deer,
coyotes, wild geese, etc. The only thing I regretted at my little tilt with
those greasers was that I did not make them turn back the same way they
had come instead of allowing them to take the road I wanted to travel. I
know they would have turned back if I had so ordered, for they knew I had
the drop on them.

After arriving at Santa Barbara we came to the conclusion to buy a
couple more horses as we were a little short now after losing five. Besides
buying a couple more horses we hired another vaquero and had to buy him
a saddle, bridle, spurs, in fact the whole outfit. He stayed with us two days
and at midnight on the second night it was his turn to go on guard and he
deliberately rode away on the horse and outfit we had bought for him.

It was dark and it did not take much start to get away, so that was the
last we ever saw of him or the horse either. We gradually moved along
until we arrived at what is now called Coyote, at that time it was the Fish
Ranch. We stopped there for a few days and separated out about a hun-
dred and twenty of the fattest and drove them to San Francisco and sold
them at a very good price, forty-five dollars per head. While we were at
this we still kept a lookout for droves of cattle, and it happened that we
saw two of the horses we had lost with a bunch of cattle. I asked the men
that was riding one of them where he got that horse and he said away down
in the country, mentioning the name of the ranch. I told him I was very
sorry to put them to any inconvenience, but two of those horses belonged
to us and he would have to give them up. All that was necessary was to £0

38 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

before a justice of the peace, Alcalde as they called them, and prove prop-
erty and take them. In talking with the man who was the owner of the
outfit I gave a minute description of the men and my little experience with
them and he gave up the horses without further parley. He said he was
satisfied they were our horses, but he swore vengeance on the fellows he
bought them from. He said if they didn’t pay him back his money there
would be trouble, and I think he meant what he said.

On our return from San Francisco after disposing of the cattle we
moved the balance of something over five hundred up to the San Joaquin
and found a good range there. We were about the second party that had
taken cattle on the west side. Major Euten had a band about sixty miles
above us and it was twenty-five miles below the old Dr. Marsh’s ranch and
about the same distance to the Livermore Valley, so we had pick and choice.

We thought it a good idea to try and secure some of that land for a
stock ranch. At that time we could file on swamp and overflow land as
state land which we did to about two thousand acres and then bought a
party out who had a pretty good house and barn. Our land lay up and down
Old River and fronting on the plains which gave us access to the tule land
and the plains as well and was an ideal stock ranch where we made head-
quarters for a number of years, raising cattle, buying and selling as it
chanced to be.

After getting settled on the San Joaquin two of us bought out all the
other partners and run ourselves in debt nearly twenty thousand dollars.
We bought a good many cattle from the Spaniards who had driven their own
cattle that year and at prices less than they were willing to sell us at home
before they started. We handled a great many that way. It was a busi-
ness I liked as well as any I was ever in, except mining; there was always
so much life about it, always some excitement and time never dragged.

In 1855 I was in the lower country again, taking the steamer for San
Diego this time and trying to buy cattle there, but they had their ideas too
high. Spent a good part of the winter there and boarded at Old Town, as
it was then called. Where San Diego now stands wasn’t thought of at that
time, there being but one house and one man there and that was a govern-
ment house and a soldier to look after it.

San Diego at that time was a pretty hard place. There was quite a
good many there that watched every steamer that came in. If they saw
any one that they took to be an officer they would slip down over the line
into Mexico and wait for some of their confederate to pass them the word
that the coast was clear. The country down there was full of that class.
After we found we could not buy anything there to suit, we concluded to
come up to Los Angeles, but we were very careful not to say so to anyone.
After everything was quiet we saddled our horses and came away in the
night. There were too many cut-throats hanging around there to take any
chances. We travelled the greater part of the night and the next day we
arrived in San Juan Capistrano, where we procured a corral to put our
horses in and feed them. We had some supper at a Mexican restaurant and
some breakfast at the same place, but we slept in the corral with our horses.
Next morning we resumed our journey and about four miles out we passed
a band of about forty-five robbers, a regular banditti crowd. They were
camped near the road and just behind a little hill that hid them from the

ee a

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 39

road. We passed along the road, but didn’t see anybody. The next day
there was a teamster going to San Juan Capistrano with a load of goods,
a four-horse team, and these robbers came out and commenced shooting. As
quickly as he could he got one of his leaders loose from the wagon and made
his escape. I saw him when he came in and he had a bullet hole through
his shirt. As soon as the robbery was reported, the sheriff, Jim Barton,
from Los Angeles, raised a posse of men and started for the place. Five
of them being in the party. They found the robbers without any trouble
and there was but one that came back alive, the sheriff and the three others
being kilied.

Before I go any further I will say that we three had twenty-one thous-
and dollars with us and how we came to escape without being molested was
a mystery to everyone. It was barely possible that they thought we were
too heavily armed as each of us had our Navy in the bolster on our sad-
dles. There was two things that may have saved us, one was that they
didn’t know we had any money, and the other and greater reason, was that
they knew if they attacked us some of them would very likely get pretty
badly hurt, at all events I was pretty well satisfied that the affair turned
out just as it did. The funeral of the members of the posse was largely
attended as the men were quite prominent and especially the sheriff, Jim
Barton. He was buried by the Masons. Immediately after the funeral the
whole country turned out to capture this band of outlaws. Andrus Pico,
brother of Ex-Governor Pio Pico, raised a company of one hundred native
Californians and started in pursuit. They overtook the robbers and shot
them down just as the notion took them, until the whole band was exterm-
inated; all but two; one of whom was the leader of the band, named Rosero.
These two made their escape into Mexico. Pico said his men had made a
pretty good killing anyway. They had gotten forty-three out of forty-five.
The whole outfit were Spanish on both sides, so the country was rid of the
worst band of desperadoes that had ever infested that part of the country
and no fuss made about it either. Soon after things had quieted down a
little my partner and myself started out to meet a band of sheep that were
being driven into New Mexico and we wanted to meet them just out on the
edge of the desert. On our second day’s travel night came on and we were
still far from any house. Finally we reached a house where we saw a light
and rode up to the door. The light went out and we tried for some time to
get an answer to our calls. Finally a man appeared at the door and gave
answer and we told him we would like to stay there for the night. “Oh!”
says he, “it is impossible as we have no provisions and nothing for your
horses to eat, but go on a little further where they have plenty.” So the
only thing to do was to proceed. We travelled for miles and miles as it
appeared to us, because our horses were getting pretty tired and people at
the house we came to said the same thing, for us to go to the next place.

The next place we came to was all dark, as it was now about midnight.
We hailed them as we had done at the other places, but not a sound could
we get, so I told Sam, that was the man who was with me, that we would
stay there anyway. I dismounted and went and tried the door, but it was
bolted good and solid. I told Sam that it looked as if they did not intend
to entertain us at this place so we went down on the flat below the house
where there were some willows and tried to make a fire, as it was a cold,

40 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

frosty night and quite a little ice formed. There was not a thing for either
ourselves or horses to eat and a very poor chance for a fire as we soon
had all the available brush burnt, so we sat here on our saddles and dozed a
little until daylight. Soon after a smoke appeared in the house, and we
saddled up pretty quick and appeared at the door again. This time a woman
appeared and I asked her if she could get us some breakfast. Very little,
she says in Spanish, as they had nothing themselves, only tea and beef. I
told her that would taste pretty good as we had had nothing since the
morning before. In the meantime several other women appeared and they
seemed greatly relieved that we were not robbers, but Americans. They
said the men had all gone to Los Angeles to lay in provisions and were very
sorry they didn’t have more to offer us. They said they were scared nearly
to death the night before as the robbers had come there and tried to get
into the house. I told them we were the robbers of the night before and
that if I could have gotten the door open we would not have stayed out in
the cold all night.

A little way further on we came to an Indian camp and saw an Indian
carrying a sack of corn. We hailed him and asked him if he would sell us
some of his corn for our horses as they had had nothing all day and all
night. He didn’t want to part with his corn at all as he said he had packed
it so many miles, but we offered him a big price for it and the temptation
was too great. He says, “as I am a good Christian I will let you have the
corn, only for that you could not get it.” We both shook him by the hand
and called him Buena Christiana. I think it did the old fellow more good
than the corn would have done. That day brought us to the sheep that we
had gone out to meet. Near Warners Ranch and just at the edge of the
desert we found the owners of the sheep, very gentlemanly man, by the
name of Lunas. They were high grade Spanish people, regular Castillians,
and wouldn’t let us do a thing for our horses, not even take off the saddles.
They had servants to do everything, Piutes as they call them, and just
treated us royally. I think we stayed over there one day to let our horses
rest a little. We could not buy any sheep from them, they had fifty thous-
and head. It was about ninety miles out there, and we didn’t pass a white
man’s house on the whole trip, not many Spanish either. We returned and
bought sheep near Los Angeles, and drove sheep that year as we could not
buy cattle and make anything. The sheep paid a little better, as we sold
the wool for enough to pay expenses.

CHAPTER VI.

The next spring following, I concluded to go to the Sandwich Islands
and see what kind of country that was. I took passage on a Clipper Ship,
the Red Gauntleta sailing vessel and I want to say I never had a nicer trip
than I did on that ship. The captain had his family aboard and there were
six passengers in all, three of them ladies. My roommate was a druggist
from Marysville, who was going to visit his sister, a professor’s wife, who
lived on the islands. I think we were seventeen days going down and I
enjoyed every minute of the time. The captain offered Mr. Douglas and
myself a free passage if we would go on with him to China, as the passen-

JOHN B. CoLTON

EDWARD F. BARTHOLOMEW JOHN L. WEsT
THOMAS SHANNON Wm. L. MANLY

JAYHAWKERS OF ’49

GEORGE ALLEN

a

par
s

Pie
NAYS ‘i

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 41

gers all left the ship at Honolulu, and he didn’t know what he would do.
The ship burned at sea on the same voyage, but I never heard whether there
were any lives lost or not. I only spent about three weeks at Honolulu,
didn’t like the country, didn’t like the climate, didn’t like anything I saw
there. There were no inducements there for me, there were not many peo-
ple but the natives and they were living on poi and raw fish. That may
sound queer to some, but that is a fact that they at that time ate fish raw
and then each family had a patch of tura called poi when cooked. They
could raise enough tura on two square rods to supply a large family and had
cocoanuts and yams just for gathering. If they wanted any exercise they
would go swimming. I have seen as many as five hundred of them in the
water together. Men, women and children, just as they were born, and
they thought that was the proper way.

Mr. Douglas’ sister being a professor’s wife, who belonged to the upper
class in society, we were both introduced to her set and had rather a fine
time. We both returned on the same vessel and had state rooms together
again and our passage back was not attended with any striking features out
of the common run of things. The day we arrived in San Francisco was
the day that James King of William, was shot by a thug named Cora. I
have seen many stirring times in California, but never have seen anything
to compare with that. The whole city was in arms, men marching the
streets at all time of the day or night. A lot of thugs had been running
the city for years and controlling the elections with ballot box stuffing and
all kinds of trickery that could be thought of and James King of William
was editing the Bulletin at the time and was showing up all their rascality
in good shape, and the bosses of the gang thought it best to get him out
of the way, Cora being their tool to do the work. Casey was another noto-
rious character and stabbed a man; and Judge Terry, who was afterwards
shot, were all the same stripe. The good citizens of San Francisco were
bound to rid the city of all that class and did it effectually too. Hundreds
of them were getting away as fast as they could. There was one man, Ed
McGowen, a notorious character, they ran him so close that he took refuge
in an old carpet that was rolled up by a Spanish woman. The posse that
was after him was in the house where he hid in the roll of carpet. If they
had found him nothing would have saved him from hanging along with the
others. I saw Casey and Corey hanged from a window at the Armory Hall
on Sacramento street. They were hanged immediately after the funeral of
James King of William. I know I came right from the funeral and attended
the hanging bee afterwards. Bruce and Herington were hanged from the
same place and I have the picture of the hanging yet. It renovated San
Francisco for several years, the people had a chance to govern themselves
and have an honest election, which they never had before. If Mr. Hopkins,
the man Judge Terry stabbed, had died, he would surely have been hanged
too, as they kept him about three weeks in prison waiting to see if Hopkins
recovered and that saved the Judge. He was a Stockton man and I knew
him very well, but failed to see much good in him. He was the man that
killed Broderick in a duel. I better say he was the man who murdered
Broderick, as that was one of the most foul deeds that was ever perpetrated
in California. In speaking of Senator Broderick, the eulogy that was deliv-
ered over his dead body by Col. Baker was the finest piece of composition

42 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

that I ever read in all my life. Col. Baker was the best orator I ever lis-
tened to, his equal was never in California and perhaps no better in the
world. By the way, when Col. Baker came to California in 1852, he came
to our ranch where seven of us were batching. As you are already aware
he was acquainted with some of our boys in Springfield, Illinois, and a finer
more jovial and genial a man I have never had the good fortune to meet.
He stayed with us about a month, and ever after he was always trying to
throw something of advantage our way. If we had taken his advice just
in one deal it would have made us all rich; his foresight was better than
ours and he was a man whom everyone admired. It makes my heart ache
until this day to think he was slaughtered in the Civil War at Bulls Bluffs.
In the Civil War, anyone who is conversant in the history of it, knows how
he marched at the head of his regiment to his death, and he knew it too,
but he was too brave a man to falter in the least.

CHAPTER VII.

My next venture was to go into the cattle business again. By this time
I had been running around a good deal and finances were getting low and
about this time I received a letter from an old friend of mine asking me to
come and see him at Benecia. He was engaged there on government works,
a good paying position, and he proposed if I would like to go into the cat-
tle business again he would furnish the necessary capital. If I had let him
in as full partner I still held my interest in the cattle ranch on the San
Joaquin. So he proposed that he would put in eight thousand dollars to
start the business, and if it was necessary he could put more later. So in
the fall of 1857 two others besides myself started up to Visalia to see what
we could do there. One of the men was my old partner in the business,
Mr. S. Wilson by name, but the agreement was that each one would buy
on his own hook and keep his separate brand, but drive together, each
bearing his quota of the expenses, but my old partner, after prospecting for
some time, could not see anything that suited him and returned home with-
out buying anything. In a short time after that I came across a man who
had driven up the summer before three hundred cows and calves, which
were year olds in the spring, and I bought the lot and took them to the
ranch and in the spring the three hundred cows were having their three
hundred calves again.

In the spring, time came for rodeoing. I attended all the rodeos in
that part of the country and collected cattle every place I went, and when
we got all through I was short but a very few head, and we soon made
preparations to drive. In the meantime the other man had bought all he
wanted, and by the time I had driven home to the ranch I was able to
brand nearly nine hundred cattle, little and big. They increased very fast
and it seemed to me it was but a little while that I had about fifteen hun-
dred head and the prices were still good. I wanted to sell and went to see
my partner about it, and he seemed to think I was losing my head. “What
better do you want to do than that? There are so many cattle worth so
much per head that will foot up about forty thousand dollars.” “Yes,” I
told him that they were bringing good prices now. I rather insisted on sell-
ing, but he would not listen to it at all. I had the same experience once

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 43

before, as 1 have already stated. That was always a drawback in partner-
ship business—I could not always do as I wanted to. Time went on for
a couple of years more, and the bottom dropped out—they went down to
almost nothing; could buy range cattle, take them as they come, for four
dollars per head. The country was full of cattle and everybody wanted to
sell—the trouble was over-production—more than our local markets could
consume, and there was no foreign market to turn to, so the business went
flat and I was in debt my share of eight thousand dollars. My partner
wanted me to continue on, and there is where I made my mistake. I didn’t
do it, but I was so plumb disgusted that I was determined to get out, so I
made him a proposition. I said, “Will you give me a few hundred—say
about three hundred—and take the whole outfit, all except the ranch, and
call it even? ” He thought it a very liberal offer and insisted I should
keep on. He said he did not want me to make any great sacrifice, but there
were two things I was determined to get rid of: the debt of four thousand
dollars and the partnership business, because if he would have consented
to sell when I wanted to, I could have come out fifteen thousand ahead
free of debt, and the idea of that stuck into me pretty deep, so at last he
took the cattle, and I took liberty. I had quite a notion I would like to go
mining again, and when the excitement broke out over the mountains at
Washa, Virginia City and Gold Hill, I went over there the year after the
first excitement broke out, and that next winter of 1861-1862, I went over
in November, I think it was, and found work plentiful at six dollars per
day, but the weather was so cold it was hard to get in much time. I had a
pretty good thing on hand, as there was a man there who owed me four
hundred dollars, and he was keeping a hotel, so I made my home there. I
knew by this time I never would get anything only board and room. My
mining venture did not amount to much, so some time after the holidays I
returned to California and had rather a severe time crossing the mountains,
as the snow on the summit was over twenty feet deep. The sleighs ran
part of the way, but could not cross the summit, but three of us were foot-
ing it. In going from Lake Tahoe to the next station, a distance of twelve
miles, soon after passing Lake Tahoe Hotel, in crossing a small lake or
lagoon, we broke through the ice, and the water took us up to the waist.
When we got out, two of us stopped to wring the water out of our clothes,
but the third poled right ahead and left me with the other man who soon
gave out worrying through the snow, and I could not get him along. He
would want to rest about every fifty yards. Finally night came on, and by
this time I had to almost carry the man by letting him lean his weight on
me by placing his arms over my shoulders. It was not long until I knew
that I could not stand the burden much longer, and finally he lay down in
the snow, and I knew I could not get him up or even try to get him to help
himself any more. By this time we had just gotten in sight of the lights in
a house. He was down in the snow and I was rubbing him with all my
might, and if I left him to go for help, I knew he would be dead before I
could get back with help. Just at that time I saw a dark object in the road
approaching and it proved to be the mail stage, and we dumped him in and
I told the driver to go just as fast as he could, so we soon got him to the
hotel, but he was entirely unconscious and had been for some time. Some
time after getting him to the fire and a lot of stimulants taken inwardly

44 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

with some smart rubbing on the outside, we brought him to. I never had
seen the man before he fell in with us—he was nothing to me, but I could
not see a man die if it was possible to save him, but it was a close call for
him. The next morning he wanted to resume the journey with us, but I
told him no, he could not go with us, that he had better go back to Carson.
We started early and travelled hard all day, and made the next station
about nine o’clock at night, a distance of twelve miles. The weather had
turned warm with some rain, which made the snow very soft, and even
where there had been a foot trail we could hardly keep on it, and we would
slip off the trail and go into the snow to our shoulders, then scramble out
and go through the same performance every few rods, and our clothes soon
became wet and heavy. When arriving at the summit we could only see
smoke coming out of the snow here and there. Even the chimneys did not
reach through the snow. People were living down there under the snow
and had run tunnels from house to house like a lot of gophers. We got
some dinner, rested a little and pushed on, and made a little better time
from there on, as it was down hill, but we were glad enough to get to the
next station, as we were about used up. They said they could feed us, but
there were no extra beds, so all the sleep we had was sitting in a chair.
The next morning we took an early start and soon got out of the snow. It
was still raining, and no teams running, as the roads were impassible. At
the next station, three miles away, there had been a landslide the night
before, and had taken away the barn, sixteen horses, several stage coaches
and all the harnesses, and all that we could see was here and there a shingle
or piece of board sticking up in the mud. It came so close to the house as
to throw mud all over the kitchen. In traveling that day we were either in
sight or hearing of landslides the entire day. There was one that came very
near to us some distance above right down a ravine that we were in. We
ran as fast as we possibly could to higher ground on a point, and by this
time it was passing us, it being the most thrilling sight I ever beheld. It
came right down through a dense grove of large sugar pine trees, some of
them must have been six and eight feet through, and that landslipe took
everything clean to the bedrock. It passed us and went into the American
River just a few rods below where we were standing. The river was boom-
ing full, but it shut off the water completely for a few seconds, when it all
went down stream and carried those great immense trees as if they were
nothing more than straws. I must say again it was the grandest sight I
ever witnessed. All the people living on the road had abandoned their
places and were living in tents upon the ridge above the landslides. The
consequence was we travelled all day without any dinner. There were
plenty of houses on the road but no people, and another night we had to
travel quite late before we could get accommodations. We never met any-
one the whole day—no one could travel, only on foot, and that wasn’t very
pleasant, as it was raining constantly. The next day we travelled on to-
wards the valley below and at one point we came to quite a high eminence
where we could overlook the Sacramento and San Joaquin Valleys and both
were covered with water as far as we could see. The entire country was
under water when we arrived at Sacramento, the only land above water
being a little strip along the levee and that had been under water, but it
had receded about three feet. In the house where I stopped, the water mark

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 45

on the counter was about a foot from the top. All the main part of the city
was under water; where the Golden Eagle Hotel stood, a steamboat could
have been floated, and all the other streets the same way. The city was
deserted, there wasn’t three hundred people in the place, all had gone to
San Francisco, and some of them were living at the soup houses.

I wanted to go to Stockton so I had to take the boat to Benecia and
then take the Stockton boat up from there. I saw quite a queer sight
going up the river. We passed a floating island with about sixty head of
cattle on it, the peat or tulles had let loose and floated to the surface of the
water and they had to ship hay to the cattle on boats to keep them alive.
When I arrived at Stockton, it was almost in the same condition as Sac-
ramento. The next day I chartered a man with a small row boat to take
me to the ranch, seventeen miles out, and we struck a bee line for the
place and didn’t know when we crossed the river, only the current was
stronger there. We tied the boat up to the back yard fence and found
about forty-five people in the house, as it was the only house in the whole
neighborhood that was above high water mark. We had a great time boat-
ing as we had to bring all our provisions from Stockton in small beats.
That worked well when the wind did not blow, but we had some narrow es-
capes from heavy seas when the wind was up. We had a great time gath-
ering honey as there were thousands of stands of bees on the river, when
the flood came. Every willow thicket was full of bee hives, full of honey.
There was a man keeping bees on our place who lost four hundred hives.
One man above us lost a thousand.

As this brings me back to the ranch again, I would like to mention a
few incidents that happened when we first settled there on the river in
1854. The whole San Jcaquin plains were covered with mustangs, elk, ante-
lope and other smaller game and we used to think it great sport to go out
and catch mustangs. The Spanish people over in the Livermore valley would
come over and camp at our place and we would all start from there. Our
mode of procedure was to send out relays all up the plains about four miles
apart and then start a bunch of mustangs. There were generally about
thirty in a bunch, sometimes more. The first relay would run them to
the next and so on for fifteen or twenty miles and the ones at the end of
the line would turn them and start them down the line again, so we would
keep them going up and down the plains all day and at night we would leave
them and go to camp. The next morning we would be after them again,
when they would be so sore and stiff from their run the day before, they
could not run and we could lassoo them as fast as we wanted to and tie
them down. When we had them all caught, we would save all the young
that we thought could be broken and the rest would be killed for they were
a great nuisance. We were cured of trying to break them but the Spaniards
would take all the one, two and three year olds home and break them to
ride and some of them made good saddle horses and were usually very
tough.

There was another thing, by way of variety that caused us trouble at
times and some times much annoyance, and that was prison breaking.
Very often, there would be forty or fifty get away from San Quentin at one
time and we lived right on their route to the back country. They would
just start in and rob everything they came to and we would raise a posse

46 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

of men and try to capture them and return them to prison. Sometimes we
would succeed pretty well and other times they would get away from us.
They would always arm themselves the first thing by robbing ranch houses
as they came to them, so often they would be pretty well armed by the time
they reached our vicinity. I will only mention one or two incidents, though
we had many scraps with them. I know on one occasion, there were twelve
of them bunched together and we heard where their camping place was,
and we started to surprise them in the camp. Whether they saw us coming
or not, they broke camp and were on the move over the hills, but we soon
overhauled them and they didn’t lay down their arms and surrender worth
a cent, but showed fight, and we had a running fight with them for about
four miles. They finally came to a ledge of rock on the top of the hill and
stood their ground as they were well fortified. We held them there until
dark, and got one of their number early in the fight. He had received a shot
that had broken his leg. His name was Hall and he was returned to
prison. We returned to the river and patrolled all night up and down, but
made no discoveries. They managed to work their way about sixty miles
further up the country where another posse of men got after them and shot
most of them. Their leader was a desparate character, his name was Jack
Powers and was known all over the state. It makes all the difference in
the world what a man is fighting for, with them it was life and with us it
was only to capture them. Another little incident I will mention, as there
were only two of us concerned. We were sitting in the cool side of a
porch of a road-side inn when two men rode up and called for dinner and
they were riding bare-back. After they came out we questioned them pretty
closely and they said that the horses belonged to their uncle and the reason
they were riding bare-back was that their uncle had driven the horses
up with a carriage and they were taking the horses back. They were two
fine looking American horses and we well knew that it was almost a sure
thing that a Spaniard was not the possessor of an American horse. We let
them depart on their journey, but after they were gone we talked over
the circumstances attending the situation and both came to the conclu-
sion that they were riding stolen horses and we agreed that we would follow
them up and take them. We overtook them after riding about a mile or so
and commanded them to stop and go back to Stockton. At that they com-
menced pleading and said kill them, do anything but do not take them back
to Stockton, which was about fifteen miles distant. We told them in Span-
ish, it was no use for them to make any fuss about it, they would have to go
back and that ended it. By the way neither of us had any weapon of any
kind, but they didn’t know that. Just before we entered Stockton, we put
the horses’ necks together and tied the men’s feet together under the
horse’s bellies, so we were sure they could not break away from us. As
we were going up one of the principal streets, a man rushed out of a livery
stable and hailed, or rather tried to hail us, but we only put spurs to our
horses the more and rushed them through to the jail, where I was well
acquainted with the officers and told them to take care of them, which they
did in short order. They hadn’t much more than gotten them in jail, till
here came a man just puffing and blowing and pretty mad too because we
wouldn’t stop. He proved to be the Sheriff of Amador County and was after
these same horses and wanted the men turned over to him. The next

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER AT

morning the prisoners were taken out and tried before a Justice of Peace,
and they acknowledged being escaped convicts and had stolen the horses
to get away on. They said they had tried on foot but thought they could
make better headway on horse-back. They were sent back to San Quentin
and the sheriff took the horses to their rightful owners and the only simple
thing in the whole affair was, we never put in a claim for the reward which
we were entitled to, fifty dollars each. I could mention many similar inci-
dents but this is about a sample.

CHAPTER VIII.

Mining excitement broke out away up in British Columbia at the head-
waters of Frazer River, called the Cariboo Mines and there was a great
rush to that place in the spring of 1862. Thousands were going and I, like
many others, took the fever also. There were four of us started in com-
pany together from San Francisco. There was nothing startling or out of
the usual happenings common to a sea voyage and we landed at Victoria,
our first landing, all in good condition, of course all glad to get ashore,
and took the first boat out-bound for the Frazer River. As we entered the
Frazer, we found the current very swift in places; some places you could
hardly tell whether the boat was making any headway or not, but we finally
made Port Douglas, that was as far as boats could run. From there we had
three hundred miles of land travel as it was the general starting point for
the mines, and everything had to be packed either by mules or men, in fact
all the men were loaded as well as the mules. We bought a little mule to
help us do the packing as everybody and everything was loaded. Some com-
pany had shipped up to this point a band of camels, they thought they
would just be the thing, but proved to be perfectly worthless as they will
not go in the mud, will lie right down and they could do nothing with them.
I heard afterwards, that they were taken to Mexico and turned loose there
and that they became wild and had increased into many hundreds, but I
wouldn’t vouch for the truth of that. After getting our packs all arranged,
we started out with our little mule on our three hundred mile hike, over the
road or rather trail, for it was only a pack trail, vehicles of any kind not
having as yet penetrated that part of the counrty. It rained almost con-
stantly and the whole country seemed to be flooded with water and the only
way we had to keep above water at sleeping time was to cut fine boughs and
lug down carefully the coarser ones in the bottom and the finer ones on
top, and in that way could make a comfortable bed even if the water was
running in rivulets underneath, which was often the case.

Some days our little mule would mire down a dozen times a day; he
soon got cunning and would not try to help himself until the pack was all
taken off. There was a foot bridge across a river; we had to cross at a
toll of one dollar each and the bridge tender said there had been ten thous-
ands crossed ahead of us. We finally arrived at Antler Creek, the first
mining camp we struck and it was twelve miles over to Williams Creek,
but we thought best to push on over there over a very high mountain. That
was a very hard pull on us as we had to sell our mule as there had not
been any mules taken over the mountain this spring and we were told we
could not get ours along and when we came to travel over there we knew

48 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

the truth had been told us. All the supplies that went into camp had to be
packed in by nien on their backs. We started over the trail with about
eighty pounds each—if anyone thinks that is a picnic over as high and
steep a mountain as that one let them try it. Consequence was that provi-
sions were very high, the only thing that wasn’t over a dollar a pound was
beef; that was fifty cents per pound. Flour was seventy-five dollars for
fifty pound sacks; beans were a dollar and a quarter per pound and every-
thing in proportion. We paid ten cents each for nails to nail up our sluice
boxes. The worst of it was, we were hungry all the time. A man could
eat more than twice as much there as in California, and then not be satis-
fied.

The mines on the whole were pretty good and some very rich, the
country being spotted, either rich or nothing at all. Our company of four
went on about four miles further and took up claims and went to work
sawing lumber to make sluices. All the claims below us on the gulch were
taking out gold in large paying quantities, but we could not work our claims
to much advantage until the claims below had been worked out and that
would take the balance of the season. We could not wait for that, so we
thought it possible we might work it through a shaft and we went to work
sinking a shaft and had sunk to a depth of twenty-four feet and cribbed
it, as we went, but when we went to go to work one morning, we found the
shaft had caved in clear to the top. The timbers had given away, so we
had to decide on something pretty quickly as by this time we were about
out of money and our decision was to get out of the woods as soon as pos-
sible. Before noon we were on the move for California, left everything and
struck out. It was no use trying to sell anything as there were hundreds
leaving and nobody wculd buy anything except something to eat. We left
our tent standing and everything in it, except a single blanket for each.
Two of the boys said they would stay a day or two and see if they could not
sell something, but Ned Ludlum and I struck out and the second night we
camped near a packer and I traded my rubber coat for a pound of flour
valued at three dollars. Without going into details, we made that three
hundred miles in eight days, which was thirty-seven and a half miles per
day which I call pretty good travelling over a rough trail, but we had no
choice in the matter, as it was a case of no money and short rations. We
prepared to get to Port Douglas just in time to hit the steamer, and went
aboard after first providing ourselves with a few crackers and cheese. We
spread our blankets and were soon fast asleep. After some hours they came
around to collect and roused us out of a sound sleep and sung out “fare”,
but I told them we had no fare to give and the answer was, “Go ashore”.
Not much, I told him, when the boat went, we were going with it but we
didn’t want to go for nothing. I reached under my head and drew out a
Colt’s Navy and he jumped back several feet. I said, “Don’t be scared, I
don’t want to shoot, but we are going and you take this in lieu of our fare
and if I come across any one I know, I will redeemed it.” The pistol was
worth at least $25.00 and the fare to Westminster was four dollars each.
We thought the purser was well paid. That was as far as that boat went
and we stopped there at a boarding house and took chances on somebody
coming along that we knew. A man I knew came down on the next boat
and he said he would pay our way to Victoria, but he only had money

ALONZO C. CLAY H. B. FRANS
LUTHER A. RICHARDS CapT. ASA HAINES
CHARLES B. MECUM JOHN GROSCUP

JAYHAWKERS OF ’49

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 49

enough to get home himself. So we got to Victoria stranded.

In passing down the Frazer River, passing where Vancouver now stands,
was all a dense forest, and at Westminster there were just a few log cabins.
I hardly know how we passed the first day or two in Victoria. As it hap-
pened the young man who was with me, Edward Ludlum, his father and the
American Counsel were old friends, and, after much persuasion, I prevailed
on him to go to Mr. Francis, as that was the Counsel’s name, and tell him
who he was and I was almost sure he would help us out. Well he got pretty
hungry before he would do it, but he finally yielded. We went together to
the office and he told Mr. Francis the condition we were in and he went to
his desk and wrote an order on some hotel there telling them to give us
whatever we wanted until steamer day, which was five or six days away.
When the steamer came in, Ned and I happened to be in the Counsel’s office,
and when the purser came in, before he would do any other business with
him, he told him to give us tickets to San Francisco, which he did and we
got back to God’s country once more and sent back to Mr. Francis the
price of our bill at the hotel and our passage to San Francisco. He could
do as he pleased about paying the steamship company—that was none of
our business; so we paid our way was all we cared for.

A few months later there was a rush for Aurora, on the eastern side
of the Sierras and on the line between California and Nevada. I thought I
must have some of that too and went over by stage. There were hundreds
of people coming and going, but mostly coming. Every place was crowded
and the best we could do was to be allowed to spread our blankets on the
floor for a dollar each. We, of course, would have slept out of doors, but
there was snow on the ground and a cold freezing night. By the next night,
we had our own tent and felt quite independent. There were three or four
of us joined together and prospected and took up some ledges that pros-
pected pretty well and we had some assays made of the rock, got out Stock
Books and divided the stock. I know I sent mine over to San Francisco to
be sold and that was the last of it. If any of it was ever sold I never
heard it.

I came across an old acquaintance who was superintendent of a mine
that was running and he put me to work at four dollars per day and I
worked there until September. It was March when I arrived there.

I then took a notion to go to Arizona, and as there was a man going as
far as San Bernardino with a team, I made arrangements to go with him.
When the party was made up there were ten or twelve of us, for as the
Owens River Indians were known to be pretty hostile at that time we
thought we would go strong enough to be safe. We got along quite smooth-
ly, though we had a little variety at Owen’s River at the first crossing,
where we camped for the night. We had seen smoke signals all the after-
noon, first on the mountain and then on the mountain across the valley. We
knew the Indians were telegraphing to each other and could tell just how
strong our party was. We had a man with us who had been a prisoner for
six months before he made his escape and so knew their signs pretty well.

After supper when we were going to bed, the horses took a stampede
and ran into camp, that is, all that were loose, some were picketed. Some-
one called out “Boys, your guns!” Some had guns and others revolvers,
but we were soon out and scouting for Indians, but, of course, they were

50 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

away without staying to be shot at. They had recently killed four men
who were prospecting in that vicinity about two or three weeks previous,
and as we passed down the valley to Owens Lake we saw and counted sev-
enteen skeletons that the bones had been picked clean by the coyotee.
There had been a company of U. S. Troops sent down from Ft. Independence
who corralled the Indians on the margin of the lake and they could not
make their escape. We moved along without anything more of notice and
arrived at San Bernardino, where some of our party remained, and we pur-
sued our journey and were getting along very well except it was extremely
hot in the desert. We didn’t pretend to travel only by night. There were
two places on the desert that were forty-five miles between waiter. We
would start about five o’clock P. M. and by eight A. M. we would reach
water again and lay there until evening. Lapaz, on the Colorado River, was
our point of destination. We camped there on the river for a few days and
while there, I happened to go to a butcher shop in the evening just about
dark. I inquired for some meat, and the butcher spoke and said he would
light up first and the minute he spoke I knew who he was by his voice.
After he had the lights going I asked him if he knew me and after turning
me around to the light a time or two, he knew me, and a more pleased man
I never met before or since. We had not seen each other for eleven years
when he started off to Mexico. He was one of our “Jay Hawkers” and one
of our mess and the same that helped me save the lift of Capt. Asa Hevins
who I have spoken of in an earlier chapter. I didn’t get back to camp that
night, as he wouldn’t let me go, and we talked nearly all night. He had a
wild and varied experience, had traveled a great deal in Mexico, both Old
and New, as well as Texas. He had started a stock ranch in New Mexico
and was quite successful having large herds of cattle and horses. About
this time the Indians came and robbed him of the greater part of his stock,
both horses and cattle. They came just at noon time and the most of his
men were at their dinner, but they saw the Indians coming and hurried to
the entrance, but the Indians made their way in and massacred all that were
in the house. Just at this time Bill Rude and a vaquero rode up and
through the gate saw what was going on and turned and made off as fast
as they could with the Indians after them. They shot the vaquero and Rude
who had been riding hard all the morning seen his horse was going to fall.
Luck seemed to favor him as there was a large mesquite thicket near that
he made for, left his horse and sought shelter in the thicket. He had his
holsters with him and was a dead shot.

The Indians surrounded the thicket and commenced firing in, and he
could see the Indians but they could not see him. Every shot he made he
would get his Indian and every time he shot he would move his position,
but they fought him until just as the sun was going down they bid him
good-bye and said they believed he was the Devil anyway. They were the
Apaches, the meanest Indians that ever lived. Then he afterwards sold
his ranch to the Government for a pretty good price. He was a regular
Daniel Boon. There was no Indian that could out-Indian him. In one of
his rambles he was making across a desert country and had only had a Mexi-
can with him. In the morning after camping their mules had strayed from
camp and the Mexican had gone after them and as he did not return very
soon he thought he would go to the top of a high hill to look for him. He

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 51

happened to look on the ground at his feet and it was literally covered
with gold and he gathered up a lot of it, as much as he could conceal from
the Mexican conveniently. By this time the Mexican had returned with the
mules and they resumed their journey to the settlements.

He showed me the gold all in pieces and some of it had a little quartz
sticking into it. I should think there was about five or six hundred dollars
of it. He said I was the only man that he had ever told about it and the
only one that knew about it except himself, and said that if I would stay
around that part of the country for a while we would go to it, but we might
have to wait some time for it could not be reached unless it rained on the
desert just as it did when he was there. He afterwards was drowned in
the Colorado River. I knew he was telling the truth for I knew he would
not think of doing anything else to me.

That leads me to another little incident that happened while I was
there. A Negro was climbing on top of a high hill and discovered just such
another place as Rude had found. The darky had picked up fifteen thous-
and dollars one afternoon and when I saw him in Lapaz he had not a dollar.
The gamblers and the saloons had gotten it all. A fool and his money is
soon parted.

While in Arizona another man and myself took a contract to sink a
shaft on a ledge seventy-five feet, at twelve dollars per foot. It was about
forty miles out from Lapaz in the mountains. ‘We packed our tools and pro-
visions out there on a pony. We had been to work for a week or more when
we were visited by four Indians, Apaches, and about dinner time they
claimed to be very hungry, as Indians always are, and wanted something to
eat. We gave them some and the next day they were there again proper
enough, so my partner and I consulted and concluded that we could not
afford to pack grub out there forty miles to feed the Indians, so I told them
they couldn’t have any more. They would go through all sorts of contortions
and tell how hungry they were and there was one of them that could speak
a little Spanish so I could understand him pretty well. While I was standing
them off my partner went down the shaft and went to work and in a joking
way said “I guess you can stand them off.” We had taken precaution when
we first went there to build a stone wall about four feet high and ten feet
square and our guns were standing against the wall. I saw the Indians had
their eye on the guns and they began to get a little bolder and acted as if
they were going to take what they wanted anyway, when I grabbed up one
of the guns and told them to leave and that very quickly too, and they
didn’t wait for the second bidding, but went as I told them too.

They were camped only about four or five miles away. We could see
the smoke from their camp every day and we slept with one eye open for
a few nights after, thinking they might possibly make a sneak on us when
we were asleep, but they never bothered us any more. We finished our
contract and by the way did very well, making twelve dollars each per day
for all the time we worked. We then returned to Lapaz and there I chanced
to meet an old friend who I knew in San Francisco, and who was engaged
in freighting out to different parts of the mining districts and had four ten-
mule teams on the road, and he said I was just the man he was looking for
as he had more business than he could attend to and wanted to sell me one-
half interest. He valued it at fifteen thousand dollars, and said I needn’t

52 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

pay a dollar down as he would take all the risk of making the money. He
said I had done him a favor once, that he had not forgetten it. It is re-
markably strange how things do work out sometimes.

However flattering the prospects were in his offer I did not accept it.
I don’t know why, either, for I needed the money bad enough, but I didn’t
go into it. A few months later he was on the road toward some of the mines
with his teams when they were attacked by the Indians and robbed of
everything and two of his men killed and he barely escaped with his life.
I sometimes think that some people have premonitions of coming disaster
and I don’t believe I am the least bit superstitious either.

CHAPTER IX.

About this time I had made up my mind to return to California, and in
company with some others started back with some teamsters that were on
their way back empty, so we had a chance to ride all the time if we wished
to do so. About forty miles out we camped at Das Palms, where there is a
hot spring and at a distance of about five miles there is what is called the
mud volcanoes, that work very singularly. There will be a volume of steam
start from the shore edge and travel in a straight course right across the
lake. I call it a lake, it’s really a lake of hot boiling mud.

Into the lake for three or four hundred yards another will start from
the same place and follow the others ahead continuously, so that there are
about four in sight all the time, and each one of them turning over a mass
of mud. They can only be approached in winter; in summer no one can go
nearer than a mile or two, the heat is too intense.

When we arrived at San Bernardino, we had to make different arrange-
ments, as the teams we were with were going direct to Los Angeles, and
some of us wanted to go a different direction. So we bought some horses
there and fitted ourselves with saddles, etc., necessary for the trip. I want-
ed to see more of the Owens River Country, as I liked the looks of it pretty
well as I passed down that way the fall before, and this I think was January
or February, 1864. There were four of us started and traveled together until
we got up to Owens River, where we separated, two going on up the range,
and two stopping there, and I soon found a location that suited me well
enough to take up and improve.

The man who stopped with me only stayed a week or two, got home-
sick and started for San Francisco, where he lived. I wasn’t very sorry for
he wasn’t a person that I admired very much. That left me entirely alone
and this was right where the Indians had been committing deprecations
the fall before.

I went to work on my claim, building a cabin, planting garden, and
plowing the ground. It was most excellent land and in former years the
Indians had irrigated a good part of this same land. They raised what is
called cumus and grows similar to potatoes. My nearest neighbors were
twenty miles away at Fort Indpeendence, in one direction, and eight miles
in another direction, to a sawmill, where Bishop is now situated.

One day I was very busy working, digging a ditch, fencing in a garden
patch, when I looked up there stood four Indians about two rods away. AS

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 53

svon as I saw them I jumped out of the ditch and grabbed my revolver that
was lying by my side while working. At this they all started to run away,
but I made them understand to put down their bows and arrows and then
come up where I was. One of them, quite a boyish looking fellow, trembled
like a leaf, his knees would shake like an aspen leaf, but he was the finest
looking; what I mean, he was the finest built man I ever saw. Many an
artist would have given anything for such a subject as a model. Pretty
soon they got a little over their scare, and we commenced to try to talk
by signs. They could not talk a word of either English or Spanish and I
couldn’t talk Piute, but by signs they can make one understand pretty well.
I didn’t feel at all afraid of them for I knew if they meant me any harm,
they would have shot me full of arrows before I knew they were there.
Prety soon they went and brought me some pinones, perhaps a quart. I
knew then they wanted to be friendly. After a while they went away and
were not gone but a little while until they came back with a whole lot af
fish that they had caught near by. A few days after I thought I would go
and call on my neighbors, eight miles away. There was quite a number of
men there building a small saw-mill, as that was the only timber anywhere
near the valley. The lumber was for mining purposes, a long distance off.
There were some Indians present, about eight of them. Soon there came a
man in, and he was in a furious rage about the Indians being there, and
said he would soon clean them out. He went into the house and got a gun
and when he came out the Indian took the hint and started to run away.
After they had gotten away, perhaps a hundred yards, he fired two or three
shots at them, but lucky it did not hit any of them. They went in the same
‘direction that I had to go to get home. After a little while, I started home
again and about half-way, I saw the Indians waiting for me on the side of
the road, so I put on a bold front and went up to where they were. They
tried to tell me what a bad man that was at the house. So when I rode on
they followed along after me, until I reached what I called my home. Then
they wanted to come and camp there. With my consent the next day they
came and camped about a hundred yards from my cabin, about fifty of them
I knew there was no danger from them then, as they wanted to be friend-
ly, the most danger being when you never see any Indians.

I remained there a month or six weeks longer, when I saw a large band
of sheep camped not far from my place, and in the evening I went down to
the camp, as I was glad to get the sight of anybody that happened to come
along. I was very much surprised to find that one of the owners was an
old friend and comrade that was in our party of “Jay Hawkers of 49”, and
traveled on the desert with us and was one of the sufferers. I was more
than glad to see him, as well as he to see me. They had bought the sheep
near Los Angeles and were on their way to Idaho, and nothing would do,
but I must go with them. They said the mines there were almost as good
as California in its day, which was a slight mistake.

Anyway the next morning I saddled my horse and took my little belong-
ings, which did not amount to much and left everything, the garden grow-
ing, and the Indians in peaceful possession.

I might mention that in after years, I think it was 1868, that there was
@ severe earthquake on that side of the mountains and that on this partic-
ular piece of land that I had taken up, that forty acres, sunk ten feet below

54 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

the surrounding country. Another time I had made a lucky escape, which
is another evidence that we don’t always know what is best for us; in fact,
we seldom do know what is best for us.

We made pretty slow progress up through Nevada, via Quinn River,
Owihee, and so on up to Boise City. The only trouble we had with Indians
was on Quinn River, where they ran a part of our horses away. We were
up early enough to see their dust just at daylight, going into the mouth of
a box canyon, three or four miles away. Another man besides myself hap-
pened to be on guard and saw them. We started after them, and followed
them up the canyon as far as they could drive, and at the head was a nice
place to hold them. We recovered all the horses and did not see any Indi-
ans. They no doubt saw us though. We had heard that on the Owihee, the
Indians were quite troublesome at that time, and had killed people just
ahead of us, but we were pretty strong in numbers, being seventeen in the
company. When we had gotten within about two hundred miles of our
destination, two owners went ahead to try and sell the sheep. By the time
they arrived there I received a letter sent by express rider, stating to remain
there on good feed, until they returned. By the way, they had left me in
charge of the train. I held the sheep there for a couple of days and the
herders got together at night and mutinied, and the next morning hitched
up the teams, and were going away, all I could do was to go along or stay.
They had gotten too close to the mines and had the fever. I could do noth-
ing with them, there were too many against one.

However, we met the owners coming back that day, and as soon as we
arrived at Boise City, they discharged every herder, and they had to get on
to the mines the best way they could. After a little time my friends dis-
posed of their sheep and I went on up to Idaho City with them. I soon got
a job at $6.00 a night shoveling in the sluices. I fell in with some old
acquaintances, and we took up some claims and went to work on them.
We did fairly well, but didn’t strike anything rich, a little better than sim-
ple wages. We worked on in this manner until winter set in, and we
could not do any more. We had a good log cabin, but it was pretty cold
until it got all covered up in ten feet of snow, and then it was warm and
comfortable. We could not do much through the winter, except saw out
our lumber for sluice boxes, that we wished to use on some claims we had
taken up. We sawed all our lumber with whip-saws, and spent a good
deal of time snow-shoeing. We used skies there altogether, and got to be
quite expert before spring. It was May before we got to work on our
claims and when we did, it was with only moderate success, and in the fall
I think about September, I went down to Oregon to see what kind of a
country that was. Landed in Portland, and Portland at that time was not
much of a place. You went about three or four blocks from the river and
right into the woods. I stayed there but a few days, and went on up to
Oregon City, and helped to put in that dam and breakwater. I remained
in Oregon until sometime after the holidays and then returned to San Fran-
cisco. I forgot tc mention in winding up my business on the San Joaquin,
I lost my interest in the ranch. Fremont claimed that it belonged to him,
he and his wife Hessie, came there once while we were there and slummed
three leagues of land running up and down the river, but we didn’t think,
neither do J think yet, that he ever had any title to the land he claimed, but

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 55

we didn’t see fit to fight the title, and gave up our two thousand acres that
we had taken up as State land. What makes me know that Fremont’s title
was fraudulent, was that in a course of time, General Naglee of San Jose
became the possessor of the grant, and then the S. P. R. R. laid claim to it,
and rather than have the title tested Naglee divided it in half, gave the R.
R. Co. the upper half, and kept the lower half. It has been selling within
the last year for one hundred and fifty to two hundred dollars an acre.

I remained but a short time in San Francisco, and then went down to
Santa Clara, where I had some friends living, and one of them, my old part-
ner of former times, was on the eve of going over into Santa Cruz County
to take up land in the redwoods and persuaded me to go along. It didn’t
take much persuasion for I was foot-loose at this time and ready for any-
thing that happened to turn up.

We were just a week going over there, owing to constant rain and high
water. Judge Wilson, the man I was with, had already been there, and had
his claim selected. I helped him to build his house and get comfortably
fixed and then looked around for a claim for myself and was successful in
finding a good one, with fine timber. In the meantime there was another
young man, who came over from Santa Clara and found a good claim ad-
joining mine and we built a cabin together and lived together for a couple
of years. The next spring and summer peeled tan bark which seemed to be
the most available thing to make ready money, which, when we sold, netted
us about $1800.00 for our first year in the redwoods. I peeled bark the next
two succeeding years, with very satisfactory results.

In the meantime I came to the conclusion that here was good money
in timber land, if I could only get enough of it. I had by this time proved
up on my claim and had entered another fifty acres adjoining my claim as
State School land, which gave me two hundred acres, all of the finest of
timber land. At that time the Southern Pacific R. R. Co. claimed every
alternate section. I had been with the surveyors off and on, when they
were surveying there and I knew all the choice sections and quarter sec-
tion. With this information I went to San Francisco to the R. R. office and
filed on twelve quarter sections and paid them the one-fourth down on the
rurchase price, which was a $1.25 per acre. They raised the price after-
wards to $2.50 per acre on their land. Several months passed and in the
meantime the R. R. Co. had their exterior lines surveyed, and the line just
came to the edge of the land I had entered, and didn’t take in a solitary
quarter section of it, and of course, I was very much disappointed, for I had
a fortune sure in the land if I could only procure title to it. I went to San
Francisco to see what they were going to do about it. Lloyd Tevis was
president of the company at that time and he said that I could go anywhere
I wished and where they had land and take it in lieu of that, and there is
where I made a mistake again, but I was so disappointed in not getting
what I had filed on that I would not take other land. In lieu then, he said,
he would refund the money with interest, which he did and acted very nice
about it, and told me I was making a mistake. I didn’t take other land, and
to my sorrow, I found out the mistake that land I had entered from them
has been worth $200 per acre for several years past.

As the saying goes, “It never rains, but it pours,” about this time there
was an enterprise gotten up to put in a flume to float lumber down as far

56 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

as Felton and from there to Santa Cruz to build a railroad and wharf, al-
together costing a half million dollars. The company issued stock to go
ahead with the enterprise, and I, like a good many others, took stock in it,
thinking it a good thing and as a good many of my friends were taking
stock in it, I thought it must be good. At this time I had my two hundred
acres and free of debt, and had a good position superintending a mine at a
good salary, which I let go and moved there where the work was going on.
Soon the assessments began to be levied and my share ran from two hun-
dred to five hundred per month, which was coming pretty thick and fast and
it wasn’t long until I had to mortgage my place to keep up assessments. I
found I couldn’t stand that, so sold my shares for what I could get. They
finished the flume and the wharf, about this time the bottom dropped out,
and every man that was interested in it was either broke up or lost heav-
ily, but it broke the most of them. Eventually the mortgagee took my
place and I had to commence new again. Luckily, my position in the mines
was ready for me with the same company and I stayed with them for five
more years, making almost ten years I had been with the Hydraulic Mining
Co., and always had charge of a claim somewhere. I thought I had the
business to perfection and was working under salary all the time, and
sometimes would have a crew of thirty to fifty men working day and night.
Mining is very interesting work if a person gets into it once, it is hard to
break off. There is no hard work I ever did that I liked so well.

CHAPTER X.

After leaving the mines, I first settled in Santa Clara and then in San
Jose, where I still reside, and looked around for something to do. I started
in to manufacturing windmills and carried on that business for a number
of years, also made a trip back East and took in the World’s Fair at St.
Louis. From there I went up into Illinois visiting relatives in the neigh-
borhood of Galesburgh, for the first time since leaving there in 1849, an
absence of fifty-five years. It is needless to say, I knew but very few people
there, many had died and others had moved away. We remained there
about a month and then started on the homeward trip via the State of
Washington, where we had a son living, Dr. Stephens of Monroe, but now
of Seattle. Spent another month there and then returned home to San Jose
and resumed my windmill business, which I followed for some time, until I
had an offer to go to Alaska. A company had been formed to go up there
and put in a hydraulic plant, and in looking around for a superintendent
they came to see me, if I would go and take charge. We finally made satis-
factory arrangements and proceeded to San Francisco and laid in the sup-
plies and machinery that were necessary. We sailed on the Steamer Ex-
celsior on February 22nd, 1898, for Seattle. We took on board in addition
to our outfit four horses. There were seventeen of us in the company, and
all went well barring sea sickness, that was somewhat troublesome to some
of the boys. It is usually the case on ship, but arrived in Seattle where we
laid in some more supplies, such as hand sleds, ete. At Seattle there was a
lot more passengers came aboard and about a hundred and fifty dogs. By
this time we were pretty well crowded, but altogether had a pretty jolly
good time. We went up the inside passage to Juneau, a distance of about a

ee

REv. J. W. BRIER, WIFE, AND SON
ALEXANDER S. PALMER Capt. Ep. Doty
Wm. B. RUDE URBAN P. DAVIDSON:

JAYHAWKERS OF ’49

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 57

thousand miles, just like traveling on the river. There were places we
passed that one might throw a stone from the deck and hit the shore on
either side of the boat. We passed Wrunfel and some Indian villages on the
way up, but did not stop until we reached Juneau, where we laid for about
twenty-four hours. While there I had a chance to go and visit the Tread-
ville Mine on Douglas Island. It is only about twenty minutes’ run from
Juneau. There I saw the largest stamp mill I ever saw in my life, there
being eight hundred stamps dropping. You may imagine the noise. They
didn’t seem to be working any particular ledge, but taking down a whole
mountain and running everything through the mill. It was all low grade
ore, but they had already taken millions out from this point. From Juneau,
the Klondike passengers went via Loyn Canal to Skagway, to the Yukon.
Here we parted company with some of our passengers, but the most of them
were on their way to Cooks Inlet. We called at some salmon fisheries on
the way up and finally reached Copper River landing, or Valdez, where a
few more left the boat. At this point right in front and but a few miles
away, there is a large glacier, and the trail from this point leads right over
the glacier, but I believe now they have built a road around it, between
there and Resurrection Bay, our point of destination. We ran into the
worst storm I ever witnessed either on sea or land. The purser said he had
been running up the coast for the past sixteen years and he said he never
had witnessed anything like it. It was accompanied with snow that never
seemed to light, but flew by in a horizontal shape, and to make things more
terrifying we came very near running on to a rock, we just missed it and
that was all. I went on deck and was holding on the best I could and the
first thing I knew, I was going feet foremost like a catapult into the scup-
pers. I had on a new heavy overcoat and it tore it up the back, up to the
collar. I was mighty glad to get into the cabin again and stay there. There
were seams in our boat that one could almost put their hand in, that reached
from stem to stern, and just above the water line; had it been below we
would soon have gone to the bottom; as it was it let in lots of water. Our
stateroom was all a flood, more than an inch deep on the floor. As night
came on the storm subsided and the next day, we landed at Resurrection
Bay, the first steamer that had ever been there. We built a temporary
wharf of poles to land our goods, but the horses we had to hoist and let
them into the water, where they had to swim ashore. We landed on the
twelfth day of March, and it was still pretty cold in that northern country.
There was plenty of snow and that was what we went through to get out
to the mine a distance of sixty miles. It was on the 5th of May before we
arrived at the mine. We had about eighteen tons of freight to haul along
on hand sleds, with one range of mountains to cross, where the snow was
ten feet deep, but on the level it was only two or three feet deep. Sleeping
on the snow is easy enough if you know how. When we would go in camp
in the evening, the first thing would be to set our tents on the snow, then
pull some pine or spruce trees and cut the pine boughs and spread on the
snow about a foot deep, lay our tarpaulin down with the blankets on top,
and we had as comfortable a bed as anyone needs. Of course, we would
have to shovel the snow away before we could build a campfire.

Our mode of making trail was in this manner: first three or four men
would go over the route with snow shoes, following them with all the help

58 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

we could raise and tramp the snow with thirty or forty men if we could
raise that many, and tramping snow all day is about as hard work as man
ever done. By this method the snow is pdcked hard enough so we could
use our sleds. Of course the more we use it the better it was. We could
then pitch our tents midway of the day’s hauling; that is we would go as
far as we could go and return in a half day and then in the afternoon re-
peat the same and return to camp by night. In that way we were in camp
for our meals all the time and then we would have to make fifteen or
twenty round trips before we had all our freight brought forward and would
make another station ahead and repeat the same operation. After all our
outfit had been moved forward the last thing to come over the trail was the
horses. We would generally move them early in the mornings when every-
thing was frozen had. If a horse by any mishap would step off the trail he
would go in all over, nothing but his head sticking out of the snow, and
some times it would be very difficult to get them back on the trail again.

When we got to the lake, it was the first place that our horses did us
any good. Here we could hitch three or four sleds together and one horse
pull them on the ice and travel right along. We had gotten all our stuff
across the lake when the ice broke up and was gone. If we had been a day
later it would have been too late.

After leaving the lake we still had six miles to make all the way up
hill, where the horses were of no use as there was too much snow and when
we finally arrived at the mine on the fifth of May, found the snow still to
be from four to five feet deep, but that was no disadvantage to us as we
could get our logs to the saw pits much better than we could on the bare
ground. We had all our lumber to saw with whip-saws and bring down to
the mines on the snow. It took six thousand feet to supply our immediate
wants for building flumes, etc. We made all our pipe there on the ground.
It was cut and punched already to rivet together.

When we were ready to go to work I had a job on my hands. The men
were all green about mining, there being no miners among them. I had
everything to see to and the work was scattered here and there and it just
kept me stepping lively. If I had even one man that could go ahead and
take the lead in any part of the work it would have helped me out a great
deal, however in a few days they got so they could saw lumber, and that
made it easier. We had four miles of ditch to make and I had to survey
that, and two or three canyons to cross where we had to flume, one of them
being fifty feet high. Our flumes were all three feet in width. I think it
was some time in August before we were ready to turn on the water which
made a pretty short season, for we had to get out of there as soon as the
snow commenced to fly. It is remarkable how soon the grass and all kinds
of vegetation comes on after the snow is off the ground. In a few days the
grass was knee high and a few more it was up to a man’s waste. Berries
are the same way. You will see them in blossom and seemingly about long
enough to take a good nap the bushes are hanging full of ripe berries. It
is the greatest country for berries I ever saw. Many places you can see
the bears come almost every day to feed on them. We had all the bear meat
we wanted, besides moose, mountain sheep and small game, and it was
fat and nice, which helped out our grub bill a great deal as we had to keep
the pack train running all the time packing from Sunrise.

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 59

Where we landed at Resurrection Bay, is now quite a town called
Seward and the terminus of a rairoad that runs out in the direction of Sun-
rise, but is only finished about thirty miles.

It seemed strange to go to bed at ten o’clock at night and the sun still
shining and wake up at three A. M. and the sun shining again, and between
sundown and sunrise one can see to read the papers at any time of night.

Our mining venture was almost a tctal failure. After an expenditure
of twenty thousand dollars we left the mine about the 1st of November, and
came out, and where we crossed the lake in the spring on the ice, this time
we crossed in boats and at night to avoid the wind that sometimes blew
pretty hard in day time, but we did not escape entirely. The wind came
up about midnight and came near swamping us, had it not been that we
were near a point that made out and formed a kind of wind-break it might
have went hard with us, the waves breaking over the side of our boats
before we got under the lee of that point. We lay there for a couple of
hours until the wind subsided, and then pushed on to the end of the lake
about daylight and laid by that day and arranged our packs and got a little
sleep, as we had been up all night. From there we had to pack what we
had on our backs, and some of the men never having packed before thought
it pretty hard work. If a man wants to take a few lessons in roughing it
let him go to some of those mining excitements, stampedes as we used to
call them. After a hard tramp we arrived again at Resurrection Bay, our
inland starting point in the spring. In coming out we had to wade some of
the streams as much as a dozen times and were wet to our middle from
morning until night. We had to wait there for the steamer about a week.
In coming down we came via Sitka, passing several glaciers and among
them, and the most notable one, being the Muir Glacier, which was said to
be sixty miles long by thirty wide. We were near enough so that we could
see the crevices in it quite plain. It is said that anyone falling into one of
those crevices never can be recovered or never has been. Parties traveling
over glaciers have a long rope and each man is tied to the rope at certain
distances apart, so that if one happens to drop in the rest are able to pull
him out. Very often the snow drifts over the cracks so they are not visible,
making it very dangerous to travel over them. The Muir Glacier looking at
it from a distance, looks like a large body of table land, not mountainous,
but more like a plain. The coast line all up and down is bold, rough and
rock-bound; little or no sand beach at all, and high mountains running
back from the coast. We could also see Mount St. Elias, the highest moun-
tain in North America. There are some very interesting sights to be seen
along the coast, the timber coming down to the water’s edge all along and
many islands to pass, all of which are well timbered. On arriving at Sitka,
we found an old Russian town of perhaps fifteen hundred inhabitants count-
ing the Indians, in fact the Indians are largely in the majority, a great many
of them being quite intelligent and some of them good mechanics. They
are not dark like our California Indians, but very light color, some of them
as white as anybody and most of them quite industrious. I saw at Sitka

some gardens where they were raising as fine vegetables as you will find
anywhere. In fact, certain kinds are much better flavored than the same
kinds raised further south. I never tasted as fine turnips or potatoes any-
where as I did there. I think from what little knowldege of the Country I

60 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

could gain that perhaps the southeastern part of Alaska, where the land is
level, enough will at some time be brought under cultivation. Of course
the best land is generally timbered, and would have to be cleared. Further
north, in the neighborhood of Cook’s Inlet, there are certain sections of
land that might be brought under cultivation quite easily, judging from the
way it produces grass, but the largest portion of it is covered with moss
from a foot to eighteen inches deep, that is only fit to raise knats and mos-
quitoes, where you will find more to the acre than any part of the world.
No one can work without a veil and then it is almost past endurance and I
don’t see any remedy where that moss grows; if it was swamped it might
be drained, but you can’t drain that moss.

If anything ever induces one to go to Alaska, it will be for mining and
not for agriculture. Mining interests there is only in its infancy, when they
get railroads and transportation becomes cheaper there will be vast amounts
of gold and other minerals taken from the ground; enough to enrich—I was
going to say the entire world—but certainly Alaska has a great future.

After returning from Alaska I took up the windmill business for some
time and then drifted off into the orchard business with only moderate
success, for the reason that the prices dropped until there was not much in
the business, but since that the prices has more than doubled on fruit as
well as on the land. I still retain some interest in that business.

CHAPTER XI.

When I was on Woods Creek, there was a Frenchman living in a cabin
near by and we became pretty well acquainted, and I had told him of our
rich mine on the Tuolumne River, and he was quite anxious to get an inter-
est in it and offered, if I could get hold of it, to furnish all the capital to
open the mine and work it and share and share alike. I made all the inqui-
ries I could about the company that had worked it the year before, but could
not get any tidings of one of them. I knew it was risky to go ahead and
take possession, for according to mining laws, we were not required to keep
our tools in the mine on river claims, where the river had been turned the
previous year. I was entirely too conscientious about the matter and did
not risk it. I knew there was a fortune there for any person or company
that could work it. It was a sure thing. I always regretted that I had not
gone ahead and worked it, for I never heard of one of the company after-
ward. Another time I had let a fortune slip by.

While in the mines, every little while there would come news of rich
strikes being made at some remote place and then everybody wanted to go
and it was customary to want to get started and get there first, everybody
being the same, anxious to be the first on the ground. People would be
starting at all times of day and night, and four times out of five the strikes
were perfect fakes, but everyone was just as willing to go again the next
time an alarm came along. They were better known as stampedes.

About this time I heard of one up on the Fine Gold Gulch and very rich,
about a hundred miles distant, with the Indians pretty bad. That made the
inducements greater than they would have been with no Indians, for that
gave it life and little more variety. We fed on excitement here a good deal.
In early times it was the spice of life.

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 61

We did not have any scrap with Indians on our way there, but we came
near to it, as two men were killed the day before we passed along. I saw
@ wagon body that was shot full of arrows. The man was camped when they
atatcked him. He stood them off with his gun. The arrows would go
through the wagon body, but not far enough to reach him. While there the
Indians came one night and stole a six-mule team that had been driven in
with provisions, besides about all the clothes there were in camp. It was a
universal practice for all the miners to do their washing on Sunday and
put out to dry on bushes. We had neglected to take them in at night. I
suppose they were looking for just such a chance. We had not seen any
Indians and had almost forgotten them. It being Sunday, I suppose they
would like a clean shirt to put on. Those Indians up in the mountains all
wore rabbit skins, when they wore anything at all. In the morning, early,
we were out beating up volunteers to go after the Indians and we succeeded
in raising sixteen men to go. We had a pack mule to carry our supplies
and made a forced march and traveled up into the high mountains. We
were then on the headwaters of the San Joaquin River. When night over-
took us we took the precaution to go into camp down in a deep ravine so
they could not see our camp fire. Just as we were building our camp fire it
began to rain and kept it up all night long, as hard as it could pour down.
The only thing to do was to stand up all night with a blanket around us
and take it. In the morning it was raining just as hard as ever. There is
no one that knows how hard and easy it can rain, until they get pretty
well up into the Sierra Nevada Mountains. In the morning we held a council
of war to know whether to go on or turn back. The rain had washed all
the mule tracks away and we had no guide of any kind to lead us on. We
were now geiting up just into the edge of the snow, and this was, I think,
about the month of May. Any way, we traveled on three or four miles
without seeing any signs whatever of Indians. I told them we were going
it blind. We didn’t even know the direction of the Indians, and objected to
going any further and there was one other of the same opinion. So it was
agreed that if we would stay with the pack mule, the others would just go
around a point of mountain there and if they saw no signs, they would re-
turn. In the course of about a half an hour we heard the most awful yells
I ever heard in all my life. One would think there was a thousand coyotes
let loose at once, and in a few more minutes, here come about fifty Indians
right down and into the patch of brush we were in. I told the fellow with
me this wouldn’t do, we had better show ourselves. So I lead the mule out
in an opening and right in front of them. This made them think they were
being surrounded and they made a quick turn and went down over a cliff
and jumped from rock to rock like a band of mountain sheep. In about
twenty minutes the boys came rushing back, pretty well excited. Knowing
they had stampeded a large bunch of Indians over where we were, they
didn’t know but what we had been killed, mule and all, but to their surprise
found us all right. The boys were right into the camp before they knew it
and that stampeded them in every direction. They thought there were
about four hundred of them camped there. They saw the feet and hides
of the stolen mules around on bushes. There had been a great feast, no
doubt. Now to show what a fool trick it was when we retreated back
about a half mile we tried to get dry loads in our guns, but there wasn’t

62 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

any gun in the whole lot that would shoot. We had to pick in dry powder
and it was with much difficulty that we cleaned our guns out and put dry
loads in. If the Indians had known the advantage they had of us they
could have shot us full of arrows and we couldn’t of helped ourselves. It
was only our good luck that saved us and not good sense or good man-
agement.

in the summer of fifty, in Mariposa County, there was a company of
a hundred volunteers raised to go out and fight Indians. They went up into
the mountains and built a log fort and were camped there, having a good
time and had the Stars and Stripes flying over the fort. One morning the
flag was missing and in scouting around some of the soldiers (if you can
call them such) saw an Indian streaking it through the woods with the flag
wrapped arcund him. That was too good a joke on them; in fact they were
called in and discharged without killing or capturing a single Indian. When
we returned to camp, we were pretty near ready to leave as the mines there
were no good.

There was one little incident that might be worth mention. I was out
prospecting and as I was going along a dim trail I came around a sharp
turn and came upon a California lion lying asleep in the shade of a tree.
Another step and I would have been onto him. It’s useless to say that he
got away from there in a hurry, but it is only to show the wild life of the
early Pioneer. I could mention scores of such incidents that we never took
any notice of. While on Woods Creek, very early one morning; in fact, it
was hardly light, I went to the creek only a few rods away, for a pail of
water. I saw a dark object near where I usually went for water and on
little closer observation, I observed it was a dead Indian. He, no doubt,
had gone there for a drink of water and had gotten his head into the water
and was unable to get out again. The water was only four inches deep,
and there I had the opportunity of witnessing another Indian funeral, but
this time there was no cremation and very few mourners. They went at it
more in the shape of business. They undertook to dig a grave up on the
bank, but soon struck hard bedrock at each end of the grave, but the middle
was softer and they proceeded to make that part of the grave deeper. The
consequence was when they put the Indian in, his head and feet only
touched. But they did not let a small matter like that balk them in the
least. I was wondering what they would do next, when three of them stood
on the middle of the dead body and jumped up and down a few times, and
got him broke down into the hole sufficiently to get him covered over with
dirt.

On my arrival in Stockton from the mines; in fact, the first day there,
I witnessed the hanging of Mickey Free, for murder, and a short time after
there was another hanging bee, this time for horse stealing. This time the
victims were Mountain Jim and Dutch Fred. Hither of them would have
weighed over two hundred pounds, but the gallows withstood the strain,
contrary to the opinion of a great many. It is alarming how reckless some
men can live even to the last moment; for example: Mountain Jim ven-
tured to make a speech and was granted the privilege. He stated he had
never harmed any one, had swiped a few horses at different times and that
was all. He insisted on placing the rope around his own neck, but that was
not granted. When all was ready, he says, “here we go pals, ‘round and

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 63

*Yround.” Dutch Fred had nothing to say whatever. In the early times noo-
ple were always ready for any kind of excitement, so there was a bull and
bear fight to come off in Stockton and was well advertised, and of course
a large crowd gathered to see the sport, as this was to surpass the ordi-
nary bull fight, people coming from far and near. The bull and the bear
were chained together, the bear’s hind foot to the bull’s fore foot and they
sawed the top of the bull’s horns, which was very unfair, for the bull was
the agressor all the time and made all the fight, and when he would strike
the bear with his horns they would glance over and not penetrate at all.
The bear wouldn’t have lasted five minutes if the bull had had an eqval
show, but a Spanish bull was worth but a few dollars, and a captured hear
was worth several hundred. While the fight was progressing, some darkies
climbed up a large tree near by in order to have a goed view. In the course
of the fight the fighters got near the tree and the bear commenced to
climb also, and climbed up as far as the chain would let him go, which
made lots of fun for the crowd but very uncomfortable for the darkies.
Everybody was yelling for them to jump, and they c7me near doing it too.
During the fight whenever the bull would make a lunge at the bear, he
would gather the bull around the neck with his enormous great paws and
hold him there and chew his nose, and this was repeated at every oppor-
tunity until his nose was eaten off almost to his eves. Finally the hear
was reported loose from the bull, which proved to be true enough, and you
should have seen the stampeded people trying to get out of the way of
'the bear and the bear trying to get away as well, but it was but a few
moments before the Spaniards had their lassoos on him and but a few more
minutes till they had him in the cage again. He was a pretty good sized
grizzly, but not as large as I have seen. The bull was shot to end his mis-
ery, which was the only merciful act of kindness in the whole procedure.

I thought it the most cruel and barbarious piece of entertainment I had
ever witnessed and never cared to attend another like performance. Stock-
ton was a great stage coach center for all the mining towns for an area of
almost a hundred miles around and most of them were due about 4 P. M.,
and they would come dashing in in grand style, under the whip at great
speed, and one day among other arrivals was a Jew, and his coach happened
to be a little late for the boat which left at that hour. He came on the full
run down to the levee, as it was then called, and the boat commenced to
pull out and was perhaps about ten feet from the wharf. He seemed to
have but one thought, that was to get his grip aboard and jump after it. So
he threw his grip and it struck the wheel-house about midway and as the
wheel was now in motion, in less than a minute there was all kinds of dry
goods scattered floating on the water, which made fun for the onlookers.
To see his dismay for a little while and his performance was very amus-
ing. He would just jump up and down crying, “Mine got vot shall I do, vot
shall I do,” and the jeers he would get from the crowd around didn’t help
matters much. Some would say, “Jump, why don’t you jump,” and another
would say, “why don’t you swim.” Sometime in the early fifties, I think
about fifty-two and three, there was one of the most dreaded outlaws that
had ever infested the country. His name was in everybodys mouth—he was
a terror to the whole country, and his name was Joaquin Murietta. Any
of the old-timers must remember his career, as a murderer and a reckless

64 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

outlaw and a notorious bad man. I think it was the fall of fifty-two I had
occasion to be at Oakland. Oakland at that time was only a small village,
and on my return to San Jose, on horse back, just a few miles this side of
Oakland, there was another horseman that overtook me on the road and
inquired where I was going. I said to San Jose. He then said he was
bound for San Jose also, and that if I had no objection we would ride to-
gether. I told him that was agreeable, if I was traveling fast as he wanted
to go. He said it made no difference, as he was in no hurry. We traveled on
until about noon time and came to a Spanish ranch and inquired if we could
have dinner. In welcome, they said. It was a large Spanish ranch and
owned by some of the Alvarados. The day was pretty warm, so we stayed
there about three hours or more, then resumed our journey. My companion
was well dressed and rode a fine horse with a silver-mounted saddle. I did
not know but that he was some great Spanish Don. He could talk some
English, and I could talk some Spanish and between the two, we got along
very well. We finally came to the creek, where Niles is now situated and
rode into the creek to let our horses drink and it was now becoming dusk
cf the evening. While our horses were drinking, he says, “Let me look
at that pistol cf yours,” which I was carrying in the bolster on my saddle.
Someway it struck me very sensibly to say no. But I gave him some evasive
answer, told him it was just like all other Colt revolver,s and didn’t hand it
to him. We rode on a short distance and I told him I wanted to see a party
that lived off the road a little way and for him to ride on and I could soon
overtake him. The more I thought of his move in the bed of the creek
and wanting to get my gun, the more my suspicions were raised. I didn’t
like the move. The place I called at was the home of Tyson and Morrison,
where we had reaped grain during the harvest season, and they insisted on
my spending the night with them, which I very willingly did. The follow-
ing spring we were driving a band of cattle up the country and passing up
the San Joaquin, we met a horseman riding a beautiful black horse and
after he passed I remembered I knew that fellow, that I traveled with him
from Oakland, and was with him all day on the road, and a little further
on we stopped for noon and lunched. Near by a man came from his cabin
and wanted to know if we had met Joaquin Murietta. We told him that a
Spaniard had been met riding a very nice black horse. “Well,” he says,
“that’s him.” He then told that he had stopped there and had jumped his
horse over the fence into his patch of barley, so the old man came out
and remonstrated with him and told him the grass was good outside any-
where. He replied he thought the barley was better and that he didn’t
know who he was talking to, that he was Joaquin Murietta. He told him he
didn’t care a ——————— who the ————— he was, that he had better get
his horse out of there and went back to his cabin and got his rifle, but be-
fore he had time to return, Joaquin had gotten his horse out and was gone.
He said if he had been there when he returned, he would have dropped him
right thar, and I think he would, as there had been a large reward offered
for him, dead or alive, as his depredations had become more numerous from
day to day. He and Three-Fingered Jack rode through Sonora at midday
and shot down two men as they passed along on the gallop, for no cause
whatever, and they had committed numerous murders and robberies. There
were posses of men sent out to capture them, but they evaded pursuit for

This is a picture of John B. Colton, reproduced from a daguerotype
taken by an artist at Long Wharf, San Francisco, in 1850.

The artist retained the negative of this picture and represented it to be
a girl miner in boy’s clothing, explaining that she had crossed the plains in
1849. Her parents both died on the trail but a woman in the train took
charge of her and brought. her safely through to the mines. Finding a rich
placer mine she adopted boy’s clothing and successfully worked her claim
and scon made her pile. She started for the States, and while in San Fran-
cisco had this picture taken before changing to woman’s attire.

By telling this story the artist sold hundreds of copies of the photo at
five dollars each to the miners, many of whom had not seen a woman for
years, and would pay any price fcr a picture of one just to carry around in
their pocket to remind them of home and home life.

The peculiar incident of this story is that Colton, the original of the
picture upon returning from the mines, saw the crowd about the artist’s
shack and proceeded to investigate, and recognized the picture at once.
Stepping inside he asked the artist when there would be a dividend. “What
do you mean,” asked the artist. ‘Why,’ replied Colton, ‘that’s my picture
you are selling to these miners, and I want you to divide profits, as you
have evidently made a pretty good clean up from the enterprise.” After
joshing the artist to his satisfaction, Colton left and no more was heard of
the matter.

re, _ * vy are, mea
Le toe ee en, me ree < Ase

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LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 65

some time, but were finally captured in the Coast Range by Harry Love and
his party, who came on them while in camp, but Joaquin and Three-Fingered
Jack tried to make their escape on their horse, but were both overtaken
and shot from their horses and killed, and that was the bandit that I had
traveled with all day and didn’t know it. I knew then that if I had given
him my gun in the creek bed, I would not be here now telling the story. He
would kill an American, just because he was an American.

It will be necessary to go back to the desert again to bring up a few
items that I had cverlooked. Mirage on the desert oft times had deceived
hundreds as it did us at many times. We would be traveling sometimes in
an almest famished condition and every step was an effort that tried the
most hardy among us, when some one would announce that they could see
water ahead at some distance. When our attention was called to it we
could all see it plain enough. Could see the lake with the willows growing
on the margin and some of the party could see birds swimming on the water,
at least they thought so. I could see no birds, but could see the trees plain
enough. Each one would quicken his step and new life would be instilled
into us that water had been almost reached and how soon now our parched
lips and our horrible thirst would be appeased. Soon doubts would begin
to rise as we approached the spot, where we were so sure we had seen
the water. The water had disappeared, trees had dwindled to become little
desert shrubs, not four inches high and the birds must have flown. Gloom
and disappointment would then take possession which I will not try here to
describe, as no pen is adequate for the task. Mirage is sometimes seen on
the San Joaquin plain. I have seen it there almost as beautiful and decep-
tive as on the desert. Thus along the pathways of the journey of life, oft
times our most ardent desires fade away and come to naught.

CHAPTER XII.

I don’t want to forget to mention about a trip to the Yosemite Valley.
Four of us in the party, consisting of my wife and daughter, son-in-law and
myself. We drove up and camped out all the time we were gone, which
was a month of well spent time. We went via Livermore, Stockton, Chinese
Camp, Big Oak Flat, so on to the Yosemite Valley. Soon after entering the
Valley, we passed by the great El Capitan and near it and a little further on
we came to Yosemite Falls, which is a wonder to behold; the first fall of
water is 1100 feet without a break, and then a fall of nine hundred and
then another of 400 feet, making 2400 feet in all, and looking at it from a
distance you hardly know there is a break in the whole distance. It is cer-
tainly the most wonderful sight, especially where there is a good volume of
water going over. A little way further on and we came to Sentinel Hotel,
and just above the hotel are the comping grounds, where. we camped. The
next place of interest is Mirror Lake, but you want to visit that before sun-
rise to get the benefit of its great beauty. The lights and shadows and
the pictures of different colored rocks is perfectly magnificent. You never
tire looking at it, as every minute it changes and gives you a different pic-
ture. From there you have about a two-mile walk up to the Nevada Falls,
where the whole river tumbles down a perpendicular fall of 260 feet without
a break. This is a very fascinating sight that one does not get tired of

66 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

looking at. We spent a couple of hours there and were interested every
minute of the time, but the most interesting place we visited was Glacier
Point. It took us three hours to make the ascent, of good hard walking, all
the way up hill, and the most of the way pretty steep too. It makes a per-
son feel like he wanted a little refreshments by the time he gets to the top,
but when he does get there he feels himself well paid for the trip. You
can stand on the brink and look down three thousand feet to the valley
below and it is almost perpendicular from the top down, one can pitch a
stone down and you never hear it strike. Horses and cattle below on the
valley look no larger than bugs and a man looks no larger than a crow.
From this point you can see no less than seven different water falls and
South Dome stands right before you and looks to be but a little way off.
From there one can see the summit of the Sierras, and the snow-capped
mountains as far as the eye can see. It is certainly a grand sight and well
worth the cost of seeing.

On our way back we came near the Mariposa Big Trees that are well
worth seeing also, and very interesting to any one who has not been accus-
tomed to seeing such sights. From there on to Viacitus, interpreted into
English meaning, Little Ovens, and I never heard of a more appropriate
name, for the day we passed there was the hottest I ever experienced in my
life and I had seen it up to 120 in other places, but never felt it so hot
before or since. From then on to Merced and across the San Joaquin
through Pacheco Pass and on to the place of starting.

Another very interesting place I have visited twice, that was the Cala-
veras Big Trees. They certainly are a wonderful sight, that is the largest
grove of big trees anywhere on the coast. One of those trees after it had
been cut down measured 32 feet across the stump and the stump was
dressed off smoothly and used for a dancing hall. There was plenty of
room for four sets to dance cotillion and the body of the tree was dressed
down about half way and was used for ten pin alleys with room for two
alleys. Our party rolled ten pins there until they didn’t feel much like
walking. The next day they said they felt a little stiff. There are some
larger trees there than that, but this one was perfectly sound. There is a
hollow tree there that is much larger and is lying down. I told a story when
I was back East about three men riding abreast in the hollow of the tree,
seventy-five feet and then riding out at a knot hole, and they laughed at me
so that I don’t often repeat the story unless it is to some one that has been
there and seen for themselves. I think it was a very wise thing for the
government to come into possession of all of those grand forests and pre-
serve them for future generations for it takes at least 4000 years to grow
one of those big tees so I hope they will be preserved for all time to come.

CHAPTER XIII.

After summing up my past life I have tried in the foregoing to give in
a rude way my own experiences as they happened from time to time, but I,
like thousands of others, if I had to do it over again I think how I might
improve it, but all in all I have no regrets or complaints to make, as I have
done the best I could under the circumstances.

It is the things that I have not done I regret the most and the greatest

LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 67

of these is my neglected education. My father wanted to put me through
college, and I refused it, but it would have been different could I have only
seen the benefit of it then as I have seen it a thousand times since. The
lesson, though dearly learned, has resulted in good, as my wife and I have
raised two children, and seen to it that they had a good education, both
having been graduated from the State Normal school, and one of them, the
son, a graduate of Cooper’s Medical College, and now a practicing physician
and surgeon in the city of Seattle, and a very successful one.

The daughter was married to a Presbyterian minister, Rev. James Ful-
com by name, who has a prosperous and growing church in a prosperous
town; so we are blest with having both a preacher and a doctor in the fam-
ily. Both of them have two children, which the grandparents as well as
the parents, are very proud of.

In summing up, I think anyone that can raise a family that is an honor
to themselves and to society, has not spent their lives in vain. I am now in
my eighty-ninth year and in jotting down these few items have had to de-
pend entirely on memory, as it happened to come to me, having no data to
refer to. There is one thing that is very singular, many things that hap-
pened in forty-nine I can remember much better than things that happened
in recent years.

In writing the foregoing I have been handicapped for lack of a liberal
education in my boyhood days. All boys were taught to work, especially
those that were brought up on a farm, as soon as they were in their teens.
They were put to plowing, then into the corn field and the harvest field.
Could not spare them to go to school in summer time, so all the schooling
ever acquired was in winter after the corn had been gathered. About five
months of each year was the limit. So all the schooling I ever acquired was
gotten within the four walls of a log school house.

CONCLUSION.

In conclusion I cannot close this narrative of life’s' sketches without
recording here the list of those of the “Jay Hawkers” who have passed away
as well as these who are still living, April 10, 1916.

LIVING.

L. Dow Stephens, San Jose, Cal., age 89 years.
John B. Colton, Galesburg, Ill., age 82 years.

PASSED AWAY.

J. W. Brier, Sr., died in Lodi, Cal.

J. W. Brier, Jr., died in Lodi, Cal., Feb. 26, 1914.

C. C. Brier, born in Indiana, Sept. 11, 1840; died in Oakland, Cal., Dec.
7, 1907.

K. W. Brier, born May 5, 1845; died in California, Jan. 1883.

Mrs. Juliet Brier, died in Lodi, Cal., May 26, 1913, at the age of a hun-
dred years, lacking four months.

Luther A. Richards, Beaver City, Neb., died June 15, 1899.

Chas. B. Mecum, Mt. Vernon, Iowa, died Feb. 20, 1905.

Thomas Shanon, Los Gatos, Cal., died Nov. 15, 1903.

68 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER

Harrison B. Frans, Rye Valley, Ore., died Jan. 16, 1902.

Irwin P. Davidson, Thermopolis, Big Horn County, Wyo., died Dec. 18,
1903.

John L. West, Philipsburg, Mon., died Jan. 12, 1898, at Sacramento, Cal.

Alonzo C. Clay, Galesburg, Ill., died Dec. 13, 1897.

Capt. Asa Haines, Delong, Ill., died March 29, 1889.

John W. Plumer, Falon, Ill., died June 22, 1892.

Sidney P. Edgerton, Blair, Neb., died Jan. 21, 1880.

Edward F. Bertholemew, Pueblo, Colo., died Feb. 13, 1891.

Thomas McGrew, Boise, Idaho, died 1864.

John Cole, Sonora, Calif., died 1853.

Wm. B. Rude, Lapaz Ranch, Arizona. Drowned in Colorado River, April
29, 1871.

Wm. Robinson, died in the desert, Jan. 1850.

Gould, Oskaloosa, Iowa. An old man was in Southern Mines, Calif., in
1850. Since then unknown. Died at Pen Yen, N. Y., in the end of the fifties.

Alexander Palmer, Knoxville, Ill., died at Chandlerville, Sierra County,
Cal., March 27, 1854.

Aaron Larken, Knoxville, Ill., died at Humboldt, Cal., 1853.

Marshal G. Edgerton, Galesburg, Ill., died at Montana Ter., 1865.

Wm. Isham, Rochester, N. Y., died in the desert Dec. 1849.

Mr. Fish, Lima, Indiana, died in the desert Dec. 1849.

Carter, Wis., died 1850.

Capt. Edward Doty, Naples, Cal., died June 14, 1891.

Burin Byrum, Knoxville, Ill., died U. S. Military Hospital, Keokuk,
Iowa, April 11, 1865.

Geo. Allen, Knoxville, Ill., died in San Francisco, Sept. 11, 1877.

Leander Woolsey, Knoxville, Ill., died in Oakland, Cal., Sept. 8, 1881.

Chas. Clark, Henderson, IIl., died Sept. 9, 1865.

Frederick Gritzner, Joliet, Ill., died Moberly, Mo., Aug. 18, 1892.

Woolfgang Tauber, Joliet, Ill. died at sea, returning from California via
Cape Horn, Nov. 15, 1850.

Young and Woolfgang were partners on the desert, also in the mines,
where they made their pile at Downieville and started for home in a sail-
ing vessel around the Horn. Woolfgang died at sea and Young sent his
gold dust to his mother in Soperahl, Germany, on his arrival in New York.

Frenchman, name unknown, became insane from starvation and wan-
dered from camp at night and was captured by the Indians and was rescued
fourteen years afterwards by United States surveying party and brought to
the settlements by them. Since that his whereabouts are not known.

John Groscup, died Feb. 24, 1916, at Longvale, Mendocino Co., Cal.,
age 90 years, leaving only two survivors, L. D. Stephens and John B. Colton.

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