p145  A Winter Trip

On leaving Santa Fé,​183 there were but five: Mr. Pruett and myself, [and] an Irishman and wife who came out with Messrs. Kerford, Jenkins and Gentry, of Zacatecas, as servants of Dr. Jenkins, but [who] for some reason took their discharge in Santa Fé and were anxious to return to "the States" and willing to take the risk of many privations to gain their object. We had hired a Mexican as mule herder, thus making four men and a woman to start, and expecting to wait on the frontier till we could make up a company sufficient to justify us in taking the risk of the trip.

We arrived at Las Vegasº about the middle of the afternoon and concluded to stay over night, expecting to meet W. and C.'s​184 train the next day at Moro or Sapello and get returns from Uncle Nick and see what number of men were desirous of returning. But very soon Uncle Nick arrived in town and said the train would camp on the Gallinas •about two miles from town that night, and after taking a drink (always the first thing with Uncle Nick), he called me aside to tell me about the gold dust.

"Not meeting you," he said, "I concluded [that] to cache it and tell you where to get it when you came along, would be the safest way. You know as you cross Sapello there are willows along the bank, and some few rods down stream there is a cottonwood tree?"

 p146  "Yes."

"Well, you go to that tree and stop and face north or northeast, and go a few rods [and] you will come to a hole, or sink in the ground, and east of that [is] a small bunch of bushes, and in that bunch of bushes you will find the bag containing the gold dust, buried."

"Well, you think I can find if from your description?"

"Why, yes. I can go to it in a dark night."

"And suppose I don't find it; then I shall be at Sapello or Moro and you in Santa Fé, •one hundred miles distant. I shall have to hunt you up, and it will necessitate •four hundred miles travel to raise the cache."

"Well, you give me another drink and my supper and a fresh mule, and I will go tonight and get it and bring it to you in the morning."

So this plan was agreed on, and after a short rest and refreshments he started off. The next morning he came through with the train and left the bag all right, and I placed it in a pile of shelled corn in the room where we had our harness and baggage, as far into the pile as I could reach.

We found there were but few men who expected to return, and that we should have to wait at least two weeks before there would be any prospect of making up a company; and Pruett concluded to return to Santa Fé and attend to the matter.

A day or two after the departure of the train I went into the living room of our host and found they had company from Santa Fé — a young man named Ortiz, whom I had frequently seen there and rather intimate with the government officers. I had a suspicion that he was after me, but as I could as yet understand but little  p147 Spanish, I could gain no knowledge of his business from his general conversation or by inquiry of other parties. I concluded to keep my eyes and ears open and see if I could learn anything from motions or an occasional word that I could understand which might be dropped in general conversation. I neither saw nor heard anything to increase or confirm my suspicions, except once in the evening I heard the word "contrabandista, "​185 and I thought he at the same time cast a peculiar look towards me. This suspicion and fear and suspense ([since I was] among enemies in a strange country, and [they] speaking an unknown [unintelligible] language) was very trying to my nerves; but I concluded the only way was to keep cool and keep thinking until some course could be decided on to relieve myself [of] the perplexing anxiety.

The conclusion I finally came to was to raise the cache and find a new one. And as there were many wild geese flying about the cornfields below the town and on the loma a short distance east of town, [I] concluded to go a hunting in the morning, taking the gold with me and find a new cache. So very early I started on a hunt, with the gold, which was securely sewed up in a double bag of buckskin. And seeing many geese along the ditch and in the cornfields, I cautiously approached, keeping watch not only of the game but for anyone who might be watching me. Crawling along the ditch towards the flock of geese, I came to a place where an animal had broken through the bank with the foot to the water which had washed under, and I dropped the package into the hole without stopping longer than [necessary], to avoid observation or suspicion of either  p148 geese or people. I had not gone far (after relieving myself of my load) before a good shot was presented, and I fired and killed a goose, which was very quickly picked up and carried to our quarters and presented to our host. It was a good fat goose, and was very acceptable to all.

I heard nothing of any search; never knew whether my suspicions were well founded or not. And although I afterwards became well acquainted with Ortiz, which continued many years, I never asked him what led him to Las Vegas at that time.

The bag lay in [the] ditch for more than a week, when I began to fear the water might affect the buckskin injuriously, and I concluded to take another hunt and move it to a new place. So I raised it from there and took [it] to the bluff across the meadow and river and cached it in the rocks, where it remained safe and in good order until we left, about a month from the time I received it from Uncle Nick.

In about two weeks after Pruett left for Santa Fé, he returned, bringing with him two or three men from the train, some four thousand dollars in gold dust from Colburn and Smith for me to take to St. Louis, a Mexican shepherd dog, and his arm in a sling, having been badly bitten by the dog. We began preparations for a start, and the married couple concluded to wait for an opportunity to return with a larger train which would afford more protection and comforts. We left Las Vegas with six Americans and two Mexicans — eight in all — one small wagon, about twenty mules, and two horses. The wagon was loaded with about forty bushels of corn, which, with provisions, bedding, etc., made a good load for six mules. On passing my cache, I raised  p149 it and put it in the wagon. We had now about eight thousand dollars in gold and specie, which made us feel like keeping a close watch to avoid accidents and enemies.

At the Río Moro we found a family of Americans from Arkansas who had come out in the fall and taken possession of a house built the summer before, bringing some cattle and several good American horses. We remained two or three days and bought half a beef to furnish meat till we got to buffalo, and on November 16 took a final start for "the States."

The first day we drove to a camp a few miles from Wagon Mound and stayed all night. The next morning we started, and on arrival at the Wagon Mound concluded to take a cut‑off across the vega​186 instead of going around by the road, and it was not long before we found our mistake. We mired down wagon and mules, and finally had to unload the wagon, take off the body, and hitch ropes to the end of the tongue to get the mules on hard ground to pull out the empty wagon. It was dusk before we got onto hard ground, and we were all tired, muddy, and wet and hungry, and no wood within •a mile or two; so all but the cook went to gathering weeds, while he tended fire and made coffee and broiled meat. We concluded to take a rest until about midnight, and hitch up and go to Ocate for breakfast.

I told the men to sleep, and I would keep guard and call them when it was time to start. Pruett's dog was a vicious rascal, but I had got somewhat acquainted with him and flattered myself he would not bite me. I had a buffalo-skin overcoat, and leggings coming up to the hips, and as it was pretty cold I put them on. After  p150 going around camp and getting the mules on good feeding ground, I returned to the wagon and sat down on our bed. The dog was lying on the foot, and as I sat down he began growling. I spoke to him and told him he knew better than to bite me, but instead of being pacified, he made a spring for me and caught my left cheek in his mouth. Under an impulse and hardly knowing what I was doing, I caught him in the mouth by placing my four fingers on his tongue and my thumb underside between his jaws. I held him as fast as he held me. The men arose and took him by the upper jaw, while I pulled down the under one, and thus drove the teeth from my face without tearing it.

We concluded to start, as all were aroused and it was near the time we had intended to start. Pruett was determined on killing the dog, but I begged for his life. And he was very useful in camp several times, by keeping the buffalo out. Several times they would walk with the wind and, partially blinded by the driving snow, be almost in camp before either we or they were aware of it. When I got out of the wagon at Ocate, he was alongside, but on seeing me, ran off into the canyon and did not again make his appearance until we were near Red river.

We had pleasant weather and traveled without adventure until we arrived at a camp of W. and C. on their trip out, where they had dug for water •about seven or eight miles below the Middle Cimarrón spring.​187 And as there was no water without digging, we camped for the night. Being so few, we stood no guard, but picketed all the mules and trusted to luck.  p151 About midnight we were awakened by a stampede of the mules, and on jumping from bed I saw every one [of the mules] had pulled up the picket pins and were on the run over a knoll towards the road. Without waiting to call anyone, I started after them just as I had left the bed — in shirt, vest, trousers, and moccasins — supposing, of course, that under the prospect of footing it for five hundred miles and depending upon our rifles for provisions, they [the traders] would feel enough interest to at least get out of bed and make an effort to find them and bring them back. In a few minutes I heard a man behind me (talking to the dog) who proved to be one of my bedfellows (we slept three in our bed), and he said he did not wait to see whether any of the others got up or not. He had his hat but did not stop to put on coat or boots.

It was very cold, and [there was a] clear sky but no moon. We soon struck the road and found they had taken the back track; and we could hear the bell and from the jingle knew they were still on the run, yet a long way off. Whether stampeded by a wolf, buffalo, or Indians, we had no means of knowing, but as they continued running so long a distance we feared the Indians. Yet we determined not to give them up without making every effort in our power for their recovery. Gradually the sound of the bell became more and more faint, until it was lost altogether, and we could no longer follow it as a guide. But when last heard they were still on or near the road; and we now would run some distance and get on our knees and look for their tracks, and if we found ourselves still on their trail, would rise and run again as far as we thought prudent, and [then get] down again hunting tracks. In this way  p152 we followed for •three or four miles, Haskins complaining that he had stepped on a prickly pear and his foot was full.

"Pull out the thickest," [I retorted], "[and] run on heel [or] toe, or hop, or any way to get along, for remember this may be a life or death race. The chances are against us anyhow, but never give up. I have bruised my heel and run on tiptoe, but that is not half as distressing as it would be to lose the mules and foot it to 'the States'; so keep a good heart, pull out what you can without much delay, and forget the rest in thinking of the lost mules."

Thus we proceeded for a mile or two when, on looking for the tracks, found they had left the road. We crawled back until we found where they had struck off south, and listening could hear no bell, when we felt greater fear that the Indians had them. It was now much slower following, as we had to stop and hunt the tracks much oftener, and in the grass the trail was not so easily followed. But after a while when listening with my ear to the ground, I could hear in the far distance the occasional tinkle of the bell, and in the valley to the west of us. Hope revived, and as they had not left the valley we felt less apprehensive of Indians. Yet it was the part of wisdom to exercise prudence and caution, lest we were among enemies, or by a careless and abrupt approach again stampede the mules. So we followed the bell, stooping as close to the ground as possible, and talking in whispers when necessary to speak, and looking across the prairie in line of the horizon for any object of interest whether man or beast. The tones of the bell [were] becoming more and more distinct, and the tinkle produced by the motion of the  p153 head showed they [the mules] were feeding. Hope increased, and when we approached near enough to take a fair observation and seeing no signs of men, we gradually approached, giving the peculiar whistling call to which they were accustomed in camp, [and] Haskins going for the bell mare, and myself for an old horse belonging to one of the mule boys. We soon had them in hand, Haskins mounting and taking the lead, and myself following the herd, [as] we started for camp.

To describe the feelings of one in such circumstances, is impossible; to have anything like a real appreciation of it without being there, is equally so. But I was there, and I never think of the tones of that bell gradually becoming less and less distinct until at last dying out in the far distance, and hope also dying with the tones of the bell, and the exercise of the will alone keeping the soul from despair; then after an hour or so of almost hopeless endeavor, to again hear those indistinct and doubtful tones, and hope revive as the tones become more and more distinct until the climax of triumph is obtained, is a trying experience, but is a great matter of rejoicing and thanksgiving in all after years.

We mounted and started for camp, and for the first time began to realize how cold it was. But taking a brisk trot, we hoped to get to camp before suffering much from cold. And expecting to find a good fire by which we might warm ourselves on arrival, we proceeded as cheerfully as the circumstances would permit. But success in getting the mules, although a great relief to our despairing hearts, would not furnish clothes to keep us warm, and we soon began to realize that we  p154 were a long distance from camp, that the night was excessively cold, and that we were just as we had jumped out of bed.

After proceeding about half way, we met the two Mexican boys who had awaked and missed the mules and taking the tracks, followed as well as they could, but had no idea how far they might be off until they heard the bell. And approaching them, one of them shed his blanket and gave it to Haskins, and the other commenced doubling his for a substitute for a saddle, as the old horse was terribly poor and the backbone very sharp and the distance still three or four miles. But I preferred protection from the cold, and wrapped the blanket around me. Inquiry about the men in camp, found they had left them all snugly tucked up in bed, but awake and watching for an attack from Indians or our return to camp.

Approaching camp, we saw no light or sign to indicate how far we had yet to travel until we got within a few rods, when suddenly a blaze streamed up and we felt — encouraged? Yes, but oh how mad! Pruett heard the stampede and thought it was by Indians, as he heard a noise which he took to be a howl of triumph and defiance, and said he raised the wagon sheet so he could see out, drew his rifle alongside of him, and waited to see what would turn up. Cuniffe​188 and Cassius were bedfellows, and Cassius was deaf and did not hear the noise. But when Cuniffe wakened him and told him the mules had run off, he asked if anybody was after them; and being told that we had gone, replied,  p155 "Well, Webb will get them," and rolled over and went to sleep. Our bedfellow had made the fire, and being asked why he had not made it sooner, and my accusing him of having slept, said he could not sleep on account of his anxiety at what would become of his wife and four babies at home. To sum up the matter, there was a good deal of loud talking, and probably the words used were not the most reverent, but according to my recollection they were expressive; and judging from the conduct of the men the balance of the trip, they made a good impression.

After warming ourselves and taking a smoke, we went to bed. [We] had only time for a short nap before daylight. On rising and looking about to discover the cause of the stampede, we saw the tracks of a buffalo coming down towards the watering place, and when near camp returning towards the hills. And before leaving, [we] saw a buffalo bull grazing in the direction taken by the tracks, and concluded he was the cause of the trouble.

We started at the usual time and proceeded down the river (in which I never saw running water but once between the Lower spring​189 and the Upper crossing),​190 seeing an occasional buffalo and antilope. But as we had meat, the cold increasing, and [there was] no timber for •over seventy-five miles, we made the best time we could, stopping over a few hours at Sand creek​191 to prepare for the journey of •fifty miles to the Arkansas without water.  p156 [We] started into the jornada​192 [at] two or three o'clock in the afternoon and were soon among buffalo in herds. [It was] excessively cold, and [there was a] very high wind, and in the night the buffalo were [seen] in such numbers that we seemed to be passing through a continuous herd, and notwithstanding all precautions we could take, it seemed sometimes as if they would run over wagon, mules, or men; and we finally concluded to stop for the night. Here the bad dog did us good service, and all were glad he was spared at the Wagon Mound and Ocate, when it took all my powers of persuasion to save his life.

At daylight we started, the cold still increasing, and although the buffalo were plenty and at no time during the day were we out of sight of numbers of large herds, we were able to proceed without annoyance or apprehension on our journey. About eleven o'clock the second night out, we arrived at the Arkansas and finding some chips and bits of wood left by W. and C.​193 on their way out, we made a cup of coffee and went to bed. But it was too cold to sleep or get much rest. The ice on the river and the roaring of the wind caused such a chill and gloom that, although we realized we were in reach of better shelter and protection in case of a violent storm than we had been for the last •one hundred and forty or one hundred and fifty miles, it had but little effect [on] quieting our nerves so we could get comfortable rest.

Early next morning while the cook was preparing breakfast, we took a look at the river to see what the  p157 prospects were for crossing. It was frozen over from bank to bank. There was a sand bar near the middle of the river, showing that the water was low and the fording was not as long as usual; but the ice was thick. In some places [it was] thick enough to bear the mules, but where the current was rapid and the water deep, not thick enough; and even if it would [have been thick enough], they were unshod, and it would be almost impossible to get them across without breaking the ice.

After breakfast, [while] discussing the matter with Pruett, he said he feared we were going to have a storm, and he thought that we could find shelter on this (south) side of the river near‑by, and if we succeeded in crossing that day, it would be some distance before we could find it down the river on the other side. There was, he thought, a cottonwood grove not over •two or three miles up the river, and he thought it would be safer to wait a day or two until we had a better prospect for fair weather. I insisted I had rather break the ice, ford the river, and make three miles towards home than to go up the river three miles from home and remain on this side. Finally, he began to bat his eyes, put his hand to his head, and spit, and grunt, and at length announced that he felt the symptoms of sick headache.

"I can do nothing to help," [he said], "but if you can get across without me, go ahead."

Haskins was willing to make the trial, and we each took an ax and went to the river and began breaking the ice and sinking it. I had got into the water some few feet but not yet over my boots, and Haskins being in shoes took wet feet first, and feeling his shock began to complain. I encouraged him to persevere and come  p158 on, assuring him that we could get over before night if we would will it, but met [with] the reply that I had boots on, and my feet were not yet wet, and I really had no idea of how cold the water was.

Failing in all my efforts to encourage my companion to effort, I gave up and went to camp, saddled my mule, and went up the river to hunt a camp and perhaps a more favorable place to cross the river. Traveling up the river near the bank, I saw no better crossing. And the river was closed by ice clear across the whole way until I came to an island (or what would be an island in high or a medium stage of water) covered with willows with a luxuriant undergrowth of grass and a good many cottonwood trees, which afforded a better camp and protection in case of a severe storm than I knew of for many miles down the river. I returned to camp and reported, but still recommended renewing the effort to cross. Pruett was sure we were going to have a storm, and the other men showed no signs of seconding my efforts. So I consented, but told them when I got ready to cross I should make the announcement and take my mules and start, and if any of them chose to accompany me they could do so; otherwise I should go alone, and they could stay till July thawed them out.

We went up to the island and arrived about 2 P.M. Soon after our arrival it commenced snowing — fine, cold-weather snow — accompanied by [a] very high wind, and we all were glad to be in so good a camp. We had good shelter and plenty of wood, and the mules better protection and grass than we found at any other camp on the trip. We started a fire and had got the last meat in the kettle, and the cook was preparing bread  p159 and coffee, when Pruett got onto a wagon wheel to see how things looked outside and announced that large gangs of buffalo were coming into the valley for shelter; and [we] soon saw a band coming onto the head of the island where we were camped, and not over two hundred yards off. He took his gun and approached them through the willows, and we soon heard the report and went to him with an ax and butcher knives, and in a short time had plenty of meat in camp.

We began roasting meat on the coals, all in good spirits, and Cassius, the cook, began singing "Home, Sweet Home." The camp and all [the] surroundings tended to place us in good spirits, but this was a little too much. The thought of the comforts of home, and [of] loved friends around the cheerful fireside with no apprehensions of danger from enemies or suffering from cold or hunger, contrasted with our situation (although comfortable compared with what it might have been), [and] was too much. And I called him to order and offered a resolution that any member of the company who, during the balance of the trip, should sing any song of home or speak of the good things of home or of the comforts of home, should be fined •a gallon of whiskey payable on our arrival at Westport. To speak of relatives and friends by their names, was admissible, but the word "home," and all endearing references to friends, relatives, or sweethearts, must be left out.

This seems to me now almost as cold and comfortless as the circumstances then surrounding us, but placing myself there (which I can in imagination do in full reality), I would again offer the same resolution, laying aside for the time being all feelings of tenderness or sentimentality as tending to depress the spirits and  p160 overcome the will. Tender-heartedness, sentimental love, or even affection strongly manifested have no place in the prairie, unless the object is present with you and under your protection.

The valley on the other side of the river was full of buffalo, as far as we could see up and down the river, and [they] seemed to be moving slowly up the river. And during our two days' stay on the island, it appeared as if a continuous drove was passing along the whole valley, like a drove of cattle which we see passing along the highway.

The river made a turn to the northward just at the head of the island, and the current striking the island seemed to rebound somewhat and take a course diagonally across the river, striking the shore opposite to us near the foot of the island. And the weather was so cold as to freeze the water to the bottom where it was shallow, throwing the running water into a narrow channel; and giving greater depth and a strong current, kept an open channel from our shore to the other.

The morning of the third day was clear, and we concluded to make an effort to cross; so we gathered camp equipage, harness, etc., and loaded them into the wagons. And as our mules were unshod and unable to stand on the ice, we thought [it] best to run the wagon over by hand below the open channel where the ice was sufficiently strong, and to drive the mules across in the open channel. About ten o'clock we were all ready and ran the wagon over without difficulty to the opposite bank, but were unable to get up the bank onto the land. Leaving it, we returned to the island and mounted a man on the bell mare and started for the head of the island, where we had prepared an entrance (as well as we could) to the water in the channel.

 p161  The mules thought the water cold, the way badly prepared, or some other reason led them to be very loth to follow; and we had a good deal of difficulty in starting them. And when all in, the water coming up on their sides, they made the effort to get out, and raising their fore feet upon the ice, would break off large cakes which would float down stream and, lodging against the bank, so obstruct the passage [that] they could not get to shore. Some would succeed in getting upon the ice, but were unable to stand, and after a few struggles would abandon all effort and give up. [The mules] being wet and the weather so cold, we were compelled to give them first attention; so with long ropes thrown around them and men taking hold of each end, we would slide them ashore. Fortunately, there were some willows and bunches of coarse grass, and the mule boys, by running them, would get them warmed up, so that by the willows whipping and brushing their legs, they would in a little time be out of danger. But those in the water were very uneasy and continually breaking off cakes of ice, so we could not get more than one or two out at a time. And we were all, most of the time, in the water waist deep, breaking and sinking the ice, but frequently compelled to get out and slide a mule across.

We were thus occupied till near sundown before we got them all over, and appearances indicating another storm, we concluded to go up the river still farther in search of another camp. When we got out of the water, and before we got hitched up, our clothes were frozen, and it required all our efforts and exercise of will to keep from freezing.

We were just ready to start, when the dog, who had remained in camp while we were crossing but realizing that we were about leaving, appeared upon the ice  p162 across the channel but feared to take [to the] water, and set up a melancholy and appealing howl for aid. Cassius said we had been so success­ful in getting everything across without any disaster that he would go for the poor dog and bring him over. So he again waded the channel, and taking the dog in his arms brought him over, dropping him upon the ground. And all congratulating him for his courage and unselfishness, he raised his head and straightening himself, exclaimed triumphantly:

"We are the six busters, and our labors of this day ought to be printed in the papers."

He was by trade a printer, which I presume suggested the thought.

We started up the river and traveled a couple of miles when we came to a cottonwood grove, where we found a pretty good camp for the mules, and, near by, as good accommodations for ourselves as we had left. In the night it commenced snowing, and we were storm bound two days more. The third day we concluded to kill and prepare meat enough to last us in, and Pruett killed seven cows, the farthest •not half a mile from camp. And we took the best cuts and cut them in convenient pieces for handling and packing in the wagon. And next day we [left], with very cold but pleasant weather, and the snow not deep enough so but what we could make pretty good days' journeys. The first day out we broke our wagon, being heavy loaded and crossing the buffalo paths which were worn deep and frozen; so the jar was more than it could bear. We threw away a part of the meat, and bound up the broken part with buffalo hide, and started again with but little hindrance.

The whole trip down the Arkansas to the crossing of  p163 Coon creek we saw buffalo in great numbers, and frequently saw herds until we passed Walnut creek.​194 Wolves were numerous, and every night their howlings and wranglings were so constant and annoying that we were kept awake a good deal; and I think a novice or one of delicate nerves would have been unable to sleep at all. On one occasion [while] coming down the river, on making a turn around a knoll, we came suddenly upon a buffalo apparently dead, as there were some half a dozen wolves feasting upon him. And as we approached, one wolf backed out from the carcass fully half his length and ran off. On examination [we found that] the carcass was still warm, and life not extinct, as was proved by an occasional kick.

To give some idea of the numbers of wolves on the prairie in the buffalo range, I will give an account of two men formerly conductors of the mail from Independence to Santa Fé. I think it was in 1854 or 1855​195 [that] they went to Walnut creek and built a small mud fort, and in summer they would sell what few knicknacks they could to traders and other passing travelers, and in winter their business was to kill wolves for the skins. They would kill a buffalo and cut the meat in small pieces and scatter it about in all directions •a half a mile or so from camp, and so bait the  p164 wolves for about two days. Meantime, all hands were preparing meat in pieces •about two inches square, cutting a slit in the middle and opening it and putting a quantity of strychnine in the center and closing the parts upon it. When a sufficient amount was prepared, and the wolves were well baited, they would put out the poisoned meat. One morning after putting out the poison, they picked up sixty-four wolves, and none of them over •a mile and a half from camp. The proceeds from that winter's hunt were over four thousand dollars.​196

The weather was excessively cold all the way from the Arkansas to "the States," and we were compelled to break the ice and wade all the large streams. But we traveled as expeditiously as we could, having no occasion to stop to kill meat; and when there were indications of stormy weather, were particular to select well-sheltered camping places by making either longer or shorter daily drives as the occasion demanded.

There were several long and dreary stretches (as from the Little Arkansas to Cottonwood, from Cottonwood to Diamond spring, and from 110​197 to Willow springs) which were looked forward to with anxiety, as the distances were •from twenty-five to forty miles without wood or comfortable shelter either on the road or within several miles of it; so if overtaken by a blizzard we would stand at least an even chance of losing our animals and some of our men. Providentially, we passed these journeys without loss or any great suffering,  p165 and without laying by until we came to Willow springs, where the appearances so strongly indicated an approaching storm that we left the road and turned south a mile or two to timber, where we found wood and shelter and tolerably fair pasturage for our animals. As we had feared, a severe storm of snow and violent wind came upon us in the night and continued all the next day, but we were in a good camp with plenty of wood to keep us warm and provisions for man and beast. From here to Westport we could see our way without any great risk from cold or storm, as there was no long distance without shelter on the road or near‑by, and the day was spent in feasting, rest, and rejoicing. And although we were reckless and wicked traders, we had all heard of a kind Providence, an all‑seeing and preserving God, a comforting Spirit, and a guardian angel, and believed in them far enough to feel thankful at least, if not to such a degree as to give expressions by the lips to words of thanksgiving.

•About eight or nine miles before reaching Council Grove, we camped for the night, and without much shelter but plenty of good grass (for the season). And on rising in the morning and preparing to start, [we] found two of our mules had strayed from camp. Looking in all directions over the prairie and seeing nothing of them, we began circling around camp for tracks leading off, and after some time found them; and making for the road on the back track towards Diamond spring, [we] followed them to the road. And being satisfied they had gone back, I went to camp and saddled Dolly, and was ready to start on the hunt for the mules about the same time the wagon left for the Grove, where they were to remain until I overtook them.

 p166  I expected to have a little time with Dolly, but she was more determined than usual not to leave the wagon, and we had a little difference. I had a good, dry, hardwood gad •about three feet long, which I applied with all the force I was able, to head, neck, and hips, but all to no purpose. I would pull for the back track until her head was in the direction I wanted her to go, but her will and her body were all at time in the direction of the wagon. I was mad, and Dolly was contrary, and we were both as willful and wicked as we knew how to be. At last, tired of whipping and pounding, I concluded to try what punching would do. And slipping my hand towards the middle of the stick, I raised my hand and with all my strength forced the end upon her loin, and to my surprise felt the end pass through something, and looking at the butt of the stick found it had been cut quite slanting, making a very sharp point. Fearing I had forced it through the skin and flesh into her body, and overcome with shame, remorse, and compassion, I threw away the stick and tried the effect of gentle caresses and kind words: "Whoa, Dolly, now let us compromise. If you will quit, I will"; at the same time patting her on the neck, but not daring to look for the wound. Gradually her ears were raised from her neck, and she looked around kindly, and after a short and reasonable conversation by words, caresses, and signs, we came to an understanding; and Dolly started off on a gallop in the proper direction and seemed to understand, as well as I did, what I was hunting for. I examined to see what damage I had done, and found the stick had penetrated the saddle blanket instead of the body of Dolly, and felt greatly relieved.

We followed the road on the tracks of the mules for  p167 three or four miles until we came to a small ravine, where the grass was tall and some green grass springing up in the bottom, and we both must have discovered the mules at the same time. We turned off the road and soon had them under way for camp. [We] arrived at Council Grove about 2 P.M., and as it was a good camp, and I wanted my dinner, we concluded to spend the balance of the day.

In the afternoon two little boys from the Kaw village came into camp, and after gratifying their curiosity and eating of the best we were able to offer them, they commenced playing around camp and through the timber. Their principal game and diversion appeared to be practicing with the bow and arrow, which were light and adapted to their strength and uses. The arrows were without the iron points used by the men. They showed great skill with the bow, as they would scarcely ever miss any target we would set up for them. And when they were left to themselves, they would select a mark in almost any locality within range of their vow, whether on the ground, on the body, or in the top of a tree. In case one lodged an arrow among the limbs of a tree, they would with extra arrows keep shooting at it until it was detached from its lodgment and fall to the ground. I saw them shoot a small woodpecker in a tall cottonwood tree after but a few shots, and when they had killed him, used him as a target by sticking the bill in the bark of a tree and practicing on him until he was used up. The bow and arrow seems to be the Indian boy's plaything, and the lasso the Mexican boy's, each practicing upon such targets as present themselves, and those requiring the most perseverance and skill, affording the most amusement.

 p168  Towards night some Indian men came into camp, and we learned there was quite a village of them some two or three miles down the creek. One of them saw a common Mexican blanket belonging to me and proposed a swap. [He] said he would give me a water pail full of honey for the blanket; and as we had rather a hankering after sweets, I concluded to trade. As it was [too] late to go and return to camp that evening, it was understood that I would go to their village the next morning.

So on the departure of the wagon, two of us proceeded down the stream through the timber to the village, where we found our friend awaiting us and ready to escort us to his lodge. On entering, we were shown seats on robes, and as it was about their breakfast time, we were asked to eat, but declined. They insisted we should take some honey; and a wooden bowl, or deep trencher, filled with honey, and a part of a buffalo horn so shaped that it could be used as a spoon, was set before us. And we enjoyed a feast, passing the spoon back and forth, Indian fashion. He brought out a rawhide bag full of honey, and after warming it before the fire and kneading it occasionally, succeeded in filling the pail as full as we could conveniently carry it on horseback to camp at Big John creek.

Arriving, [we] found [a] pleasant and comfortable camp, and an early supper nearly ready, and all hands waiting our arrival and anticipating a rich and luxuriant feast of bread, meat, and onions, with coffee and plenty of sweetening. And although we dined at the fashionable hour (5 to 7 P.M.), our bill of fare would hardly be recognized as very high-toned or elaborate. The table was a blanket spread upon the ground, and the  p169 furniture was a tin plate, an iron spoon, and a butcher knife, with a tin cup for coffee. Our bill of fare was soup, followed by meat with bread and honey. And honey on the plate made the bill of fare: soup and honey, bread and honey, coffee and honey, and honey for dessert. We were all honeyed, but I think I had the most honey and suffered most. That night will ever be remembered as one of suffering. Such a bellyache I never suffered! But the morning brought comfort, and we proceeded on our journey.

As I mentioned before this, we spent one day in a storm at Willow springs (or the timber below it), and about ten o'clock the next day we thought it safe to start, although very cold and the wind blowing very heavy. We had great difficulty in getting the loose mules from the timber. As soon as we would get a short distance into the prairie, they would make a break for the timber regardless of the course taken by the bell mare or the train. Ordinarily, the mules will follow the bell mare regardless of all opposition or danger; and we usually considered our mules safe when separated from the herd (from whatever cause) as long as they were within hearing of the sound of the bell. But this terrible cold and wind was more than they could stand. We caught some and led them, and one which was poor and seemed to suffer more than the rest we covered with a blanket and buffalo robe, when he became more reasonable. And we succeeded in getting to the road, and proceeded on our journey without any further trouble or delay.

From this [point] to Westport​198 we had good camps  p170 and fair shelter, and arrived on December 22. [We] remained one day to arrange for the wintering of the mules and storing of camp equipment, and on the twenty-fourth​199 went to Independence. At the hotel,​200 there was a ball being held, which I looked in on — the first ball I ever witnessed in my native land. Fandangos I had seen in New Mexico, and one quadroon ball in New Orleans,​a but this was the first American ball I ever witnessed, and — let me think — I do believe it was the only one. [I] spent Christmas in Independence, and on the twenty-sixth started down by stage for St. Louis.

On my arrival at Independence I met George Peacock,​201 who told me that they had been very anxious about our safety and had made preparations to start out on the prairie to our assistance, as we were so much behind the time we were expected, and the weather had [been] so cold and blustering they feared [that we] were lost or had lost our animals. We had expected to get in a month earlier, and my partner, Mr. Doan, had told them when we might be expected. I felt very grateful that our friends thought enough of us to take the trouble to organize an expedition to go to our relief, and still remember my old friends in Independence  p173  with sincere respect and gratitude, not only in this instance but [in] many others when they rendered me efficient service by giving me their confidence and support, when both were so greatly needed as to be of great encouragement and benefit to me. Many, and I suppose most, of my old friends have passed away, but the remembrance of their confidence and kind assistance will ever remain fresh while I live.

(p171)

Independence, Missouri, about 1850 From Charles A. Dana, The United States Illustrated, New York, circa 1853

 (p172 is blank)  Arrived in St. Louis, I found a letter or two which had been long awaiting my arrival. And after remaining a few days for rest and to see how the land lay or how good the credit was for a new start, [I] concluded to visit my friends in the East. [I] wrote to Independence ordering four wagons built, and arranging with Colonel Owens for another outfit. I left for Cincinnati by steamboat and had a good long trip. From there [I] took a little stern-wheel boat for Wheeling. Among the passengers was the actor Booth — Junius Brutus Booth — and we traveled together to Baltimore. He had but little to say, and to judge from appearances one would not expect it lay in his power to say or do anything above or hardly equal to an ordinary man. He did not speak or seem to realize that Booth was in any sense entitled to any respect or consideration either as an individual or as an actor. But whenever the name of Charlotte Cushman was mentioned, he warmed up to a state of enthusiasm in the expression of his admiration and respect for her both as an actress and a woman. . . [I traveled] from Wheeling to Cumberland by stage, and thence to Baltimore by railroad — also to New York. From New York [I proceeded] to Bridgeport, I think, by boat, and to Cornwall Bridge by rail, on the old bar rail.​b

 p174  After [a] five years' absence [I] found all well and glad to see me. [I] brought home a Navajo blanket and Mexican saddle as samples of the goods used in the country. The blanket was used by father as a lap and horse blanket during his life, and since [has been] used on the milk wagon, and is still in use, making over thirty-eight years in use and not yet worn out; and I bought it second-hand. I have no doubt it had been used ten years. [I] remained home about a month. [I] visited what friends remained, but found many changes and but few of my old schoolmates and acquaintances remaining in Warren, nearly all, like myself, having left to try their fortunes in new fields. After a good visit I left for St. Louis, and began preparations for another trip with high expectations and, as I thought, good prospects for a prosperous and success­ful adventure.

There had been a good deal of bickering and ill feeling between our government and Mexico, and I thought I would on my return go through Washington and get a passport. I called at the office of the Secretary of State, and was told the secretary was not yet in, but was invited to sit down and wait his coming. In a short time Mr. Buchanan entered and accosted me in a very pleasant and friendly manner, and on making known my business asked me if I had a certificate or recommendation to show that I was an American citizen. I told him I had not, and did not know that it was necessary. He asked me if I had no acquaintances in Washington; and I answered that I had none but that my father knew Senator Smith, but I could not ask him. Seeing my disappointment and mortification, he in a very fatherly manner told me that he thought I could make myself known sufficiently to him so he would certify me as a  p175 citizen. But I thought it better to wait [until] my arrival in St. Louis and get Messrs. Doan, King and Company to apply through the representative from that district. [Mr. Buchanan] very kindly asked me to remain awhile, as he wished to talk with me about the country, its trade and resources; and I did so. My partner was born and lived a few years of his early life in one of the British West Indies, and got a British passport from the consul at New Orleans. Mine arrived before my departure from Independence. But neither anticipated war between the two governments.

---

The Author's Notes:

183 Webb and his companions left Santa Fé on November 2, 1845. Weekly Reveille, Jan. 5, 1846.

184 Wethered & Caldwell.

185 Smuggler.

186 Open plain.

187 Middle Cimarrón spring was within the present limits of Morton county, Kansas. Kansas State Historical Society, Eighteenth Biennial Report, 114.

188 Henry J. Cuniffe. This was probably his first year as a Santa Fé trader. He soon settled in New Mexico, where he remained until the later fifties. Santa Fé Weekly Gazette, Aug. 13, 1853; Daily Missouri Republican, Oct. 28, 1854, Jan. 14, 1859.

189 Lower spring was on the Cimarrón river near where Zionville, Grant county, Kansas, is now located. Kansas State Historical Society, Eighteenth Biennial Report, 113‑114.

190 The Upper crossing of the Arkansas river was near the present town of Hartland, Kearny county, Kansas. Ibid.

191 Sand creek is probably identical with the present North Fork of the Cimarrón river.

192 A day's travel. "The word Jornada (journey performed in one day) is especially applied in Mexico to wide tracts of country without water, which must for this reason be traversed in one day." Wislizenus, op. cit., 58.

193 Wethered & Caldwell.

194 The traders forded Walnut creek a short distance east of the present site of Great Bend, Barton county, Kansas. Kansas State Historical Society, Eighteenth Biennial Report, 112.

195 In the summer of 1855 Allison and Booth, formerly conductors on the Santa Fé Mail and Stage, established a trading post at the Walnut creek crossing of the Santa Fé trail. They were especially interested in killing wolves and in selling supplies to travelers and Santa Fé traders. Their establishment, which was later called Allison's Ranch, continued to do business until 1860, when it was captured by the Indians. Daily Missouri Republican, July 25, 1855, Sept. 18, 1860; Daily Missouri Democrat (St. Louis), Oct. 23, 1858; Santa Fé Weekly Gazette, Feb. 21, 1857.

196 For another example of killing wolves for their hides, see George Bird Grinnell, Two Great Scouts and their Pawnee Battalion (Cleveland, 1928), 28‑33.

197 110 Mile creek. The traders crossed this creek near the present town of Scranton, Osage county, Kansas. Kansas State Historical Society, Eighteenth Biennial Report, 110.

198 Westport, Missouri, was founded in 1833. Situated farther west than Independence and just •four miles south of the Missouri river, it soon became a starting and outfitting point for trappers, emigrants, explorers, and Santa Fé traders. By the early fifties Westport, together with Kansas City, superseded Independence as the point of departure for Santa Fé traders. Westport is now a part of Kansas City, Missouri. Daily Missouri Republican, Apr. 12, 1839, June 27, 1840, Aug. 3, 1844, May 10, 1855, Sept. 27, 1860; Theodore S. Case, History of Kansas City, Missouri (Syracuse, 1888), 28; History of Jackson County, Missouri (Kansas City, 1881), 352, 388.

199 The St. Louis Weekly Reveille reported that Webb and his companions arrived at Independence on December 21, 1843. Weekly Reveille, Jan. 5, 1846.

200 The Independence House.

201 George Peacock, of Independence, Missouri, was a Santa Fé trader. He was killed at Allison's Ranch in the summer of 1860, when he was scalped and his head split open by a party of Kiowa Indians. Weekly Reveille, Nov. 20, 1845; Daily Missouri Republican, Sept. 18, 1860.

---

Thayer's Notes:

a Grace King, New Orleans: The Place and the People, pp342‑344.

b I have no idea what a "bar rail" might be, and neither is the term found in the railroad history books on my own site, nor anywhere else on the Web as far as I can tell; so I strongly suspect this is a misreading by the editor, for a handwritten "B&O rail". Among the many words added by the editor in brackets, he tells us at one point that Webb's handwriting was "unintelligible" to him, p147.

◂ previous						next ▸
Images with borders lead to more information. The thicker the border, the more information. (Details here.)
UP TO:		Adventures in the Santa Fé Trade	History of New Mexico	American History	Home
A page or image on this site is in the public domain ONLY if its URL has a total of one *asterisk. If the URL has two **asterisks, the item is copyright someone else, and used by permission or fair use. If the URL has none the item is © Bill Thayer. See my copyright page for details and contact information.