Death Valley in \'49 by William Lewis Manly

W >> William Lewis Manly >> Death Valley in \'49

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35

Thus again, our sleep was troubled from another cause. Being so long
unaccustomed to vegetable food, and helped on, no doubt, by our poor
judgment in gauging the quantity of our food, we were attacked by severe
pains in the stomach and bowels, from which we suffered intensely. We
arose very early and with a very light breakfast, for the sickness
admonished us, we started back for the house we had first passed, at
which our friend on horseback, said he would spend the night and where
we were to meet him this morning. He said he could talk Spanish all
right and would do all he could to help us.

Our suffering and trouble caused us to move very slowly, so that it was
nine or ten o'clock before we reached the house, and we found they had
two horses all ready for us to go to Los Angeles. There were no saddles
for us, but we thought this would be a good way to cure my lameness. The
people seemed to be friends to us in every way. We mounted, having our
packs on our backs, and our guns before us, and with a friendly parting
to the people who did not go, all four of us started on a trip of thirty
miles to the town of Los Angeles.

When we reached the foot of the mountain which was very steep but not
rocky, John and I dismounted and led our animals to the top, where we
could see a long way west, and south, and it looked supremely beautiful.
We could not help comparing it to the long wide, desert we had crossed,
and John and myself said many times how we wished the folks were here to
enjoy the pleasant sight, the beautiful fertile picture.

There appeared to be one quite large house in sight, and not far off,
which the man told us was the Mission of San Fernando, a Roman Catholic
Church and residence for priests and followers. The downward slope of
the mountain was as steep as the other side and larger, and John and I
did not attempt to mount till we were well down on the level ground
again, but the other two men rode up and down without any trouble. We
would let our leaders get half a mile or so ahead of us and then mount
and put our horses to a gallop till we overtook them again. We had
walked so long that riding was very tiresome to us, and for comfort
alone we would have preferred the way on foot, but we could get along a
little faster, and the frequent dismounting kept us from becoming too
lame from riding.

We passed the Mission about noon or a little after, and a few miles
beyond met a man on horseback who lived up to the north about a hundred
miles. His name was French and he had a cattle range at a place called
Tejon (Tahone). Our friends told him who we were, and what assistance we
needed. Mr. French said he was well acquainted in Los Angeles and had
been there some time, and that all the travelers who would take the
Coast route had gone, those who had come by way of Salt Lake had got in
from two to four weeks before, and a small train which had come the
Santa Fe Route was still upon the road. He said Los Angeles was so clear
of emigrants that he did not think we could get any help there at the
present time.

"Now," said Mr. French--"You boys can't talk Spanish and it is not very
likely you will be able to get any help. Now I say, you boys turn back
and go with me and I will give you the best I have, I will let you have
a yoke of gentle oxen, or more if you need them, and plenty of beans,
which are good food for I live on them; besides this I can give an
Indian guide to help you back. Will that do?" After a moment we said we
doubted if oxen could be got over the road, and if they were fat now
they would soon get poor, and perhaps not stand it as well as the oxen
which had became used to that kind of life, and of those they had in
camp all they needed. We wanted to get something for the women and
children to ride, for we knew they must abandon the wagons, and could
not walk so far over that dry, rough country. "Well," said Mr.
French:--"I will stop at the place you were this morning--I know them
well--and they are good folks, and I am sure when I tell them what you
want they will help you if they possibly can. This looks to me to be the
most sensible course." After talking an hour our two companions advised
us that the proposition of Mr. French seemed the most reasonable one
that appeared. But for us to go clear back to his range would take up so
much valuable time that we were almost afraid of the delay which might
mean the destruction of our friends. French said he had a pack saddle,
with him taking it home, and we could put it on one of our horses, and
when we came back to Los Angeles could leave it at a certain saloon or
place he named and tell them it belonged to him and to keep it for him.
I have forgotten the name of the man who kept the saloon. We agreed to
this, and bidding our two companions farewell, we turned back again with
Mr. French.

When night came we were again at the Mission we had passed on the way
down. We were kindly treated here, for I believe Mr. French told them
about us. They sent an Indian to take our horses, and we sat down beside
the great house. There were many smaller houses, and quite a large piece
of ground fenced in by an adobe wall. The roof of the buildings was like
that of our own buildings in having eaves on both, sides, but the
covering was of semi circular tiles made and burned like brick. Rows of
these were placed close together, the hollow sides up, and then another
course over the joints, placed with the round side up, which made a roof
that was perfectly waterproof, but must have been very heavy. These
tiles were about two feet long. All the surroundings, and general make
up of the place were new to us and very wonderful. They gave us good
dried meat to eat and let us sleep in the big house on the floor, which
was as hard as granite, and we turned over a great many times before
daylight, and were glad when morning came. We offered to pay them, but
they would take nothing from us, and we left leading our horses over the
steep mountain, and reaching the house again late in the day. They
turned our horses loose and seemed disposed to be very friendly and
disposed to do for us what they could.

We were very tired and sat down by the side of the house and rested,
wondering how we would come out with our preparations. They were talking
together, but we could not understand a word. A dark woman came out and
gave each of us a piece of cooked squash. It seemed to have been roasted
in the ashes and was very sweet and good. These were all signs of
friendship and we were glad of the good feeling. We were given a place
to sleep in the house, in a store room on a floor which was not soft.
This was the second house we had slept in since leaving Wisconsin, and
it seemed rather pent-up to us.

In the morning we were shown a kind of mill like a coffee mill, and by
putting in a handful of wheat from a pile and giving the mill a few
turns we were given to understand we should grind some flour for
ourselves. We went to work with a will, but found it, hard, slow work.

After a little, our dark woman came and gave us each a pancake and a
piece of meat, also another piece of roasted squash, for our breakfast,
and this, we thought, was the best meal we had ever eaten. The lady
tried to talk to us but we could not understand the words, and I could
convey ideas to her better by the sign language than any other way. She
pointed out the way from which we came and wanted to know how many day's
travel it might be away, and I answered by putting my hand to my head
and closing my eyes, which was repeated as many times as there had been
nights on our journey, at which she was much surprised that the folks
were so far away. She then place her hand upon her breast and then held
it up, to ask how many women there were, and I answered her by holding
up three fingers, at which she shrugged her shoulders and shook her
head. Then pointing to a child by her side, four or five years old, and
in the same way asked how many children, I answered by holding up four
fingers, and she almost cried, opening her mouth in great surprise, and
turned away.

I said to Rogers that she was a kind, well meaning woman, and that Mr.
French had no doubt told her something of our story. Aside from her dark
complexion her features reminded me of my mother, and at first sight of
her I thought of the best woman on earth my own far off mother, who
little knew the hardships we had endured. We went to work again at the
mill and after a while the woman came again and tried to talk and to
teach us some words of her own language. She place her finger on me and
said _ombre_ and I took out my little book and wrote down _ombre_ as
meaning man, and in the same way she taught me that _mujer_, was woman;
_trigo_, wheat; _frijoles_, beans; _carne_, meat; _calazasa_, pumpkin;
_caballo_, horse; _vaca_, cow; _muchacho_, boy, and several other words
in this way.

I got hold of many words thus to study, so that if I ever came back I
could talk a little and make myself understood as to some of the common
objects and things of necessary use. Such friendly, human acts shown to
us strangers, were evidences of the kindest disposition. I shall never
forget the kindness of those original Californians. When in Walker's
camp and finding he was friendly to Mormonism we could claim that we
were also Mormons, but the good people though well known Catholics, did
not so much as mention the fact nor inquire whether we favored that sect
or not. We were human beings in distress and we represented others who
were worse even than we, and those kind acts and great good will, were
given freely because we were fellow human beings.

The provisions we prepared were, a sack of small yellow beans; a small
sack of wheat, a quantity of good dried meat, and some of the coarse,
unbolted flour we had made at the mills. They showed us how to properly
pack the horse, which was a kind of work we had not been use to, and we
were soon ready for a start. I took what money we had and put it on a
block, making signs for them to take what the things were worth. They
took $30, and we were quite surprised to get two horses, provisions,
pack-saddles and ropes, some of the latter made of rawhide and some of
hair, so cheaply, but we afterward learned that the mares furnished were
not considered of much value, and we had really paid a good fair price
for everything. To make it easy for us they had also fixed our knapsacks
on the horses.

The good lady with the child, came out with four oranges and pointed to
her own child and then to the East, put them in the pack meaning we
should carry them to the children. With a hearty good bye from them, and
a polite lifting of our hats to them we started on our return, down
toward the gentle decline of the creek bottom, and then up the valley,
the way we came. Toward night we came to a wagon road crossing the
valley, and as we well knew we could not go up the tangled creek bed
with horses we took this road to the north, which took a dry ravine for
its direction, and in which there was a pack trail, and this the wagons
were following. We kept on the trail for a few miles, and overtook them
in their camp, and camped with them over night. We told them we
considered our outfit entirely too small for the purpose intended, which
was to bring two women and four children out of the desert, but that
being the best we could get, we were taking this help to them and hoped
to save their lives. Our mission became well known and one man offered
to sell us a poor little one-eyed mule, its back all bare of covering
from the effect of a great saddle sore that had very recently healed. He
had picked it up somewhere in Arizona where it had been turned out to
die, but it seemed the beast had enough of the good Santa Ana stock in
it to bring it through and it had no notion of dying at the present
time, though it was scarcely more than a good fair skeleton, even then.
The beast became mine at the price of $15, and the people expressed
great sympathy with us and the dear friends we were going to try to
save.

Another man offered a little snow-white mare, as fat as butter, for $15,
which I paid, though it took the last cent of money I had. This little
beauty of a beast was broken to lead at halter, but had not been broken
in any other way. Rogers said he would ride her where he could, and
before she got to the wagons she would be as gentle as a lamb. He got a
bridle and tried her at once, and then there was a scene of rearing,
jumping and kicking that would have made a good Buffalo Bill circus in
these days. No use, the man could not be thrown off, and the crowd
cheered and shouted to Rogers to--"Hold her level."

After some bucking and backing on the part of the mare and a good deal
of whipping and kicking on the part of the man, and a good many furious
clashes in lively, but very awkward ways, the little beast yielded the
point, and carried her load without further trouble.

The people gave us a good supper and breakfast, and one man came and
presented us with 25 pounds of unbolted wheat flour. They were of great
assistance to us in showing us how to pack and sack our load, which was
not heavy and could be easily carried by our two animals which we had at
first. However we arranged a pack on the mule and this gave me a horse
to ride and a mule to lead, while Rogers rode his milk-white steed and
led the other horse. Thus we went along and following the trail soon
reached the summit from which we could see off to the East a wonderful
distance, probably 200 miles, of the dry and barren desert of hill and
desolate valley over which we had come.

The trail bearing still to the north from this point, we left and turned
due east across the country, and soon came to a beautiful lake of sweet
fresh water situated well up toward the top of the mountain. This lake
is now called Elizabeth Lake. Here we watered our animals and filled our
canteens, then steered a little south of east among the Cabbage trees,
aiming to strike the rain water hole where we had camped as we came
over. We reached the water hole about noon and here found the Jayhawkers
trail, which we took. They had evidently followed us and passed down the
same brushy canon while we having taken a circuitous route to the north,
had gone around there. Getting water here for ourselves and horses, we
went back to the trail and pushed on as fast as the animals could walk,
and as we now knew where we could get water, we kept on till after dark,
one of us walking to keep the trail, and some time in the night reached
the Willow corral I have spoken of before. There was good water here,
but the Jayhawker's oxen had eaten all the grass that grew in the little
moist place around, and our animals were short of feed. One of us agreed
to stand guard the fore part of the night and the other later, so that
we might not be surprised by Indians and lose our animals. I took the
first watch and let the blaze of the fire go out so as not to attract
attention and as I sat by the dull coals and hot ashes I fell asleep.
Rogers happened to wake and see the situation, and arose and waked me
again saying that we must be more careful or the Indians would get our
horses. You may be sure I kept awake the rest of my watch.

Next day we passed the water holes at the place where we had so
stealthily crawled up to Doty's camp when coming out. These holes held
about two pails of water each, but no stream run away from them. Our
horses seemed to want water badly for when they drank they put their
head in up to their eyes and drank ravenously.

Thirty miles from here to the next water, Doty had told us, and night
overtook us before we could reach it, so a dry camp was made. Our horses
began now to walk with drooping heads and slow, tired steps, so we
divided the load among them all and walked ourselves. The water, when
reached proved so salt the horses would not drink it, and as Doty had
told us the most water was over the mountain ahead of us, we still
followed their trail which went up a very rocky canon in which it was
hard work for the horses to travel. The horses were all very gentle now
and needed some urging to make them go. Roger's fat horse no longer
tried to unseat its rider or its pack, but seemed to be the most
downhearted of the train. The little mule was the liveliest, sharpest
witted animal of the whole. She had probably traveled on the desert
before and knew better how to get along. She had learned to crop every
spear of grass she came to, and every bit of sage brush that offered a
green leaf was given a nip. She would sometimes leave the trail and go
out to one side to get a little bunch of dry grass, and come back and
take her place again as if she knew her duty. The other animals never
tried to do this. The mule was evidently better versed in the art of
getting a living than the horses.

Above the rough bed of the canon the bottom was gravelly and narrow, and
the walls on each side nearly perpendicular. Our horses now poked slowly
along and as we passed the steep wall of the canon the white animal left
the trail and walked with full force, head first, against the solid
rock. She seemed to be blind, and though we went quickly to her and took
off the load she carried, she had stopped breathing by the time we had
it done. Not knowing how far it was to water, nor how soon some of our
other horses might fall, we did not tarry, but pushed on as well as we
could, finding no water. We reached the summit and turned down a ravine,
following the trail, and about dark came to the water they had told us
about, a faint running stream which came out of a rocky ravine and sank
almost immediately in the dry sand. There was water enough for us, but
no grass. It seemed as if the horses were not strong enough to carry a
load, and as we wanted to get them through if possible, we concluded to
bury the wheat and get it on our return. We dug a hole and lined it
with fine sticks, then put in the little bag and covered it with dry
brush, and sand making the surface as smooth as if it had never been
touched, then made our bed on it. The whole work was done after dark so
the deposit could not be seen by the red men and we thought we had done
it pretty carefully.

Next morning the little mule carried all the remaining load, the horses
bearing only their saddles, and seemed hardly strong enough for that.
There was now seven or eight miles of clean loose sand to go over,
across a little valley which came to an end about ten miles north of us,
and extended south to the lake where we went for water on our outward
journey and found it red alkali. Near the Eastern edge of the valley we
turned aside to visit the grave of Mr. Isham, which they had told us of.
They had covered his remains with their hands as best they could, piling
up a little mound of sand over it. Our next camp was to be on the summit
of the range just before us, and we passed the dead body of Mr. Fish, we
had seen before, and go on a little to a level sandy spot in the ravine
just large enough to sleep on. This whole range is a black mass rocky
piece of earth, so barren that not a spear of grass can grow, and not a
drop of water in any place. We tied our horses to rocks and there they
staid all night, for if turned loose there was not a mouthful of food
for them to get.

In the morning an important question was to be decided, and that was
whether we should continue to follow the Jayhawker's trail which led far
to the north to cross the mountain, which stood before us, a mass of
piled-up rocks so steep that it seemed as if a dog could hardly climb
it. Our wagons were nearly due east from this point over the range, and
not more than fifty miles away, while to go around to the north was
fully a hundred miles, and would take us four or five days to make. As
we had already gone so long we expected to meet them any day trying to
get out, and if we went around we might miss them. They might have all
been killed by Indians or they might have already gone. We had great
fears on their account. If they had gone north they might have perished
in the snow.

The range was before us, and we must get to the other side in some way.
We could see the range for a hundred miles to the north and along the
base some lakes of water that must be salt. To the south it got some
lower, but very barren and ending in black, dry buttes. The horses must
have food and water by night or we must leave them to die, and all
things considered it seemed to be the quickest way to camp to try and
get up a rough looking canon which was nearly opposite us on the other
side. So we loaded the mule and made our way down the rocky road to the
ridge, and then left the Jayhawker's trail, taking our course more south
so as to get around a salt lake which lay directly before us. On our way
we had to go close to a steep bluff, and cross a piece of ground that
looked like a well dried mortar bed, hard and smooth as ice, and thus
got around the head of a small stream of clear water, salt as brine. We
now went directly to the mouth of the canon we had decided to take, and
traveled up its gravelly bed. The horses now had to be urged along
constantly to keep them moving and they held their heads low down as
they crept along seemingly so discouraged that they would much rather
lie down and rest forever than take another step. We knew they would do
this soon in spite of all our urging, if we could not get water for
them. The canon was rough enough where we entered it, and a heavy up
grade too, and this grew more and more difficult as we advanced, and the
rough yellowish, rocky walls closed in nearer and nearer together as we
ascended.

A perpendicular wall, or rather rise, in the rocks was approached, and
there was a great difficulty to persuade the horses to take exertion to
get up and over the small obstruction, but the little mule skipped over
as nimbly as a well-fed goat, and rather seemed to enjoy a little
variety in the proceedings. After some coaxing and urging the horses
took courage to try the extra step and succeeded all right, when we all
moved on again, over a path that grew more and more narrow, more and
more rocky under foot at every moment. We wound around among and between
the great rocks, and had not advanced very far before another
obstruction, that would have been a fall of about three feet had water
been flowing in the canon, opposed our way. A small pile of lone rocks
enabled the mule to go over all right, and she went on looking for every
spear of grass, and smelling eagerly for water, but all our efforts were
not enough to get the horses along another foot. It was getting nearly
night and every minute without water seemed an age. We had to leave the
horses and go on. We had deemed them indispensable to us, or rather to
the extrication of the women and children, and yet the hope came to us
that the oxen might help some of them out as a last resort. We were sure
the wagons must be abandoned, and such a thing as women riding on the
backs of oxen we had never seen, still it occurred to us as not
impossible and although leaving the horses here was like deciding to
abandon all for the feeble ones, we saw we must do it, and the new hope
arose to sustain us for farther effort. We removed the saddles and
placed them on a rock, and after a few moments hesitation, moments in
which were crowded torrents of wild ideas, and desperate thoughts, that
were enough to drive reason from its throne, we left the poor animals to
their fate and moved along. Just as we were passing out of sight the
poor creatures neighed pitifully after us, and one who has never heard
the last despairing, pleading neigh of a horse left to die can form no
idea of its almost human appeal. We both burst into tears, but it was no
use, to try to save them we must run the danger of sacrificing
ourselves, and the little party we were trying so hard to save.

We found the little mule stopped by a still higher precipice or
perpendicular rise of fully ten feet. Our hearts sank within us and we
said that we should return to our friends as we went away, with our
knapsacks on our backs, and the hope grew very small. The little mule
was nipping some stray blades of grass and as we came in sight she
looked around to us and then up the steep rocks before her with such a
knowing, intelligent look of confidence, that it gave us new courage. It
was a strange wild place. The north wall of the canon leaned far over
the channel, overhanging considerably, while the south wall sloped back
about the same, making the wall nearly parallel, and like a huge crevice
descending into the mountain from above in a sloping direction.

We decided to try to get the confident little mule over this
obstruction, Gathering all the loose rocks we could we piled them up
against the south wall, beginning some distance below, putting up all
those in the bed of the stream and throwing down others from narrow
shelves above we built a sort of inclined plane along the walls
gradually rising till we were nearly as high as the crest of the fall.
Here was a narrow shelf scarcely four inches wide and a space of from
twelve to fifteen feet to cross to reach the level of the crest. It was
all I could do to cross this space, and there was no foundation to
enable us to widen it so as to make a path for an animal. It was forlorn
hope but we made the most of it. We unpacked the mule and getting all
our ropes together, made a leading line of it. Then we loosened and
threw down all the projecting points of rocks we could above the narrow
shelf, and every piece that was likely to come loose in the shelf
itself. We fastened the leading line to her and with one above and one
below we thought we could help her to keep her balance, and if she did
not make a misstep on that narrow way she might get over safely. Without
a moments hesitation the brave animal tried the pass. Carefully and
steadily she went along, selecting a place before putting down a foot,
and when she came to the narrow ledge leaned gently on the rope, never
making a sudden start or jump, but cautiously as a cat moved slowly
along. There was now no turning back for her. She must cross this narrow
place over which I had to creep on hands and knees, or be dashed down
fifty feet to a certain death. When the worst place was reached she
stopped and hesitated, looking back as well as she could. I was ahead
with the rope, and I called encouragingly to her and talked to her a
little. Rogers wanted to get all ready and he said, "holler" at her as
loud as he could and frighten her across, but I thought the best way to
talk to her gently and let her move steadily.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35