Death Valley in \'49 by William Lewis Manly

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We were to kill an ox when we reached camp, and as each of the men had
an equal number on the start each was to furnish one alternately and no
disputing about whose were better or stronger, in any emergency.

Our road now led down the western slope of the mountain, and loose,
hard, broken rocks were harder on the feet of our animals than coming
up, and our own moccasins were wearing through. The cattle needed shoes
as well as we. Any one who has never tried it can imagine how hard it is
to walk with tender feet over broken rock. It was very slow getting
along at the best, and the oxen stumbled dreadfully in trying to protect
their sore feet. At the foot of the mountain we had several miles of
soft and sandy road. The sun shone very hot, and with no water we
suffered fearfully. A short way out in the sandy valley we pass again
the grave of Mr. Isham, where he had been buried by his friends. He was
from Rochester, N.Y. He was a cheerful, pleasant man, and during the
forepart of the journey used his fiddle at the evening camps to increase
the merriment of his jolly companions. In those days we got no rain, see
no living animals of any kind except those of our train, see not a bird
nor insect, see nothing green except a very stunted sage, and some dwarf
bushes. We now know that the winter of 1849-50 was one of the wettest
ever seen in California, but for some reason or other none of the wet
clouds ever came to this portion of the State to deposit the most
scattering drops of moisture.

Quite a long way from the expected camp the oxen snuffed the moisture,
and began to hurry towards it with increased speed. A little while
before it did not seem as if they had ambition enough left to make a
quick move, but as we approached the water those which had no packs
fairly trotted in their haste to get a drink. This stream was a very
small one, seeping out from a great pile of rocks, and maintaining
itself till it reached the sands, where it disappeared completely. A few
tufts of grass grew along the banks, otherwise everything surrounding
was desolate in the extreme.

As soon as we could get the harness off the oxen, we went to look for
our little buried sack of wheat, which we were compelled to leave and
hide on our way out. We had hidden it so completely, that it took us
quite a little while to strike its bed but after scratching with our
hands awhile, we hit the spot, and found it untouched. Although the sand
in which it was buried seemed quite dry, yet the grain had absorbed so
much moisture from it, that the sack was nearly bursting. It was emptied
on a blanket, and proved to be still sound and sweet.

Our first work now was to kill an ox and get some meat to cook for those
who were coming later. We got the kettle over boiling with some of the
wheat in it, for the beans were all gone. We killed the ox saving the
blood to cook. Cutting the meat all off the bones, we had it drying over
a fire as soon as possible, except what we needed for this meal and the
next. Then we made a smooth place in the soft sand on which to spread
the blankets, the first good place we had found to sleep since leaving
Death Valley.

The next job was to make moccassins for ourselves and for the oxen, for
it was plain they could not go on another day barefooted. We kept busy
indeed, attending the fires under the meat and under the kettle, besides
our shoemaking, and were getting along nicely about sundown, when Old
Christian Crump appeared in sight followed by the women and the rest of
the party. The women were just as tired as ever and dropped down on the
blankets the first thing. "How many such days as this can we
endure?"--they said. We had them count the days gone by, and look around
to see the roughest part of the road was now behind them. They said that
only five days had passed, and that two thirds of the distance still
remained untraveled, and they knew they could never endure even another
five day's work like the last. We told them to be brave, and be
encouraged, for we had been over the road and knew what it was, and that
we felt sure of being able to do it nicely. They were fed in bed as
usual, and there they lay till morning. We men went to making moccasins
from the green hide, and when we had cut out those for the men and women
the balance of the hide was used in preparing some also for the oxen,
particularly the worst ones, for if I remember correctly there was not
enough to go round.

The morning came, bright and pleasant, as all of them were, and just
warm enough for comfort in the part of the day. The women were as usual,
and their appearance would remind one quite strongly of half-drowned
hens which had not been long out of trouble. Hair snarled, eyes red,
nose swollen, and out of fix generally. They did not sleep well so much
fatigued, for they said they lived over their hard days in dreams at
night, and when they would close their eyes and try to go to sleep, the
visions would seem to come to them half waking and they could not rest.

There was now before us a particularly bad stretch of the country as it
would probably take us four or five days to get over it, and there was
only one water hole in the entire distance. This one was quite salt, so
much so that on our return trip the horses refused to drink it, and the
little white one died next day. Only water for one day's camp could be
carried with us, and that was for ourselves alone and not for the
animals.

When the moccasins were finished in the morning we began to get our
cattle together when it was discovered that Old Brigham was gone, and
the general belief was that the Indians had made a quiet raid on us and
got away with the old fellow. We circled around till we found his track
and then Arcane followed it while we made ready the others. Arcane came
in with the stray namesake of the polygamous saint about this time
shouting:--"I've got him--No Indians." The ox had got into the wash
ravine below camp and passed out of sight behind, in a short time. He
had been as easily tracked as if he walked in snow. There was larger
sage brush in the wash than elsewhere, and no doubt Brigham had thought
this a good place to seek for some extra blades of grass.

Immediately south of this camp now known as Providence Springs, is the
salt lake to which Rogers and I went on the first trip and were so sadly
disappointed in finding the water unfit to use.

As soon as ready we started up the canon, following the trail made by
the Jayhawkers who had proceeded us, and by night had reached the
summit, but passed beyond, a short distance down the western slope,
where we camped in a valley that gave us good large sage brush for our
fires, and quite a range for the oxen without their getting out of
sight. This being at quite a high elevation we could see the foot as
well as the top, of the great snow mountain, and had a general good view
of the country.

This proved to be the easiest day's march we had experienced, and the
women complained less than on any other night since our departure. Their
path had been comparatively smooth, and with the new moccasins their
feet had been well protected, they had come through pretty nicely. We
told them they looked better, and if they would only keep up good
courage they would succeed and come out all right to the land where
there was plenty of bread and water, and when safely out, they might
make good resolutions never to get in such a trap again. Mrs. Bennett
said such a trip could never be done over again, and but for the fact
that Rogers and I had been over the road, and that she believed all we
had said about it; she never would have had the courage to come thus
far. Now, for the children's sake, she wished to live, and would put
forth any effort to come through all right.

The next day we had a long canon to go down, and in it passed the dead
body of the beautiful white mare Rogers had taken such a fancy to. The
body had not decomposed, nor had it been disturbed by any bird or beast.
Below this point the bed of the canon was filled with great boulders,
over which it was very difficult to get the oxen along. Some of them had
lost their moccasins and had to suffer terribly over the rocks.

Camp was made at the salt water hole, and our wheat and meat boiled in
it did not soften and get tender as it did in fresh water. There was
plenty of salt grass above; but the oxen did not eat it any more than
the horses did, and wandered around cropping a bite of the bitter brush
once in awhile, and looking very sorry. This was near the place where
Rogers and I found the piece of ice which saved our lives. The women did
not seriously complain when we reached this camp, but little Charley
Arcane broke out with a bad looking rash all over his body and as he
cried most of the time it no doubt smarted and pained him like a mild
burn. Neither his mother nor any one else could do anything for him to
give him any relief. We had no medicines, and if he or any one should
die, all we could do would be to roll the body in a blanket and cover it
with a light covering of sand.

From this camp to the next water holes at the base of the great snow
mountain, it was at least 30 miles, level as to surface, and with a
light ascending grade. The Jayhawkers had made a well marked trail, and
it it was quite good walking. The next camp was a dry one, both for
ourselves and the oxen, nothing but dry brush for them, and a little
dried meat for ourselves, but for all this the women did not complain so
very much. They were getting use to the work and grew stronger with the
exercise. They had followed Old Crump and the children every day with
the canteens of water and a little dried meat to give them if they cried
too much with hunger, and Arcane had led his ox day after day with a
patience that was remarkable, and there was no bad temper shown by any
one. This was the way to do, for if there were any differences, there
was no tribunal to settle them by.

In all this desert travel I did not hear any discontent and serious
complaint, except in one case, and that was at the Jayhawker's camp,
where they burned their wagons at the end of the wagon road, in Death
Valley. Some could not say words bad enough to express their contempt,
and laid all the trouble of salt water to Lot's wife. Perhaps she was in
a better position to stand the cursing than any of the party present.

The next day we reached the water holes at the place where Rogers and I
stole up to camp fire in the evening, supposing it to be Indians, but
finding there Capt. Doty and his mess, a part of the Jayhawker's band.
By dipping carefully from these holes they filled again, and thus,
although there was no flow from them we gradually secured what water we
needed for the camp, which was a small amount after so long a time
without. There was some low brush here called greasewood, which grew
about as high as currant bushes, and some distance up the mountain the
oxen could find some scattery bunch grass, which, on the whole, made
this camp a pretty good one. The women, however, were pretty nearly
exhausted, and little Charley Arcane cried bitterly all day and almost
all night. All began to talk more and feel more hopeful of getting
through. The women began to say that every step brought them so much
nearer to the house we had told them about on the other side and often
said the work was not so very hard after all. Really it was not so bad
travelling as we had at first. We were now nine days from the wagons.
"Are we half way?" was the question they began to ask. We had to answer
them that more than one half the hard days were over, if one half the
distance had not been traveled, and with the better walking and getting
hardened to the work, they would get over the last half better than the
first. One thing was a little hard. All of our beans and flour had been
used up, and now the wheat was about gone also. We had cooked it, and it
seemed best, trying to build up our strength, where it was most needed
for the greatest trials, and now we thought they would be able to get
along on the meat. We had reached the base of the great snow mountain.
It seems strange with the mass of snow resting above, and which must be
continually thawing more or less, no ravines or large streams of water
were produced flowing down this side. It seemed dry all around its base,
which is is very singular, with the snow so near.

We had now our barren canon to go down, and right here was the big trail
coming down from the north, which we took and followed. We said all
these good things about the road, and encouraged the people all we could
to keep in good spirits and keep moving. We told them we thought we knew
how to manage to get them safe over the road if they only fully
endeavored to do it. We were all quite young, and not in the decline of
life as were most of them who had perished by the way. No reader can
fully realize how much we had to say and do to keep up courage, and it
is to this more than anything else that we did which kept up the lagging
energies and inspired the best exertion. I don't know but we painted
some things a little brighter than they were, and tried to hide some of
the most disheartening points of the prospects ahead, for we found the
mind had most to do with it after all. We have no doubt that if we had
not done all we could to keep up good courage, the women would have
pined away and died before reaching this far. Whenever we stopped
talking encouragingly, they seemed to get melancholy and blue.

There was some pretty good management to be exercised still. The oxen
were gradually growing weaker, and we had to kill the weakest one every
time, for if the transportation of our food failed, we should yet be
open to the danger of starvation. As it was, the meat on their frames
was very scarce, and we had to use the greatest economy to make it last
and waste nothing. We should now have to kill one of our oxen every few
days, as our other means of subsistence had been so completely used up.
The women contracted a strange dislike to this region and said they
never wanted to see any part of it again.

As the sun showed its face over the great sea of mountains away to the
east of Death Valley, and it seemed to rise very early for winter season
we packed up and started west on the big trail. Rogers and I took the
oxen and mule and went on, leaving the others to accompany Old Crump and
his little charges. Arcane had found it best to carry Charley on his
back, as it relieved the burning sensation, caused by the eruption on
his skin, which was aggravated by the close quarters of the pockets.
Thus leaving the pockets unbalanced, Bennett had to carry his baby also.
This made it harder for them, but every one tried to be just as
accommodating as they could and each one would put himself to trouble to
accommodate or relieve others.

Rogers and I made camp when we reached the proper place which was some
distance from the mountain, on a perfectly level plain where there was
no water, no grass, nothing but sage brush would grow on the dry and
worthless soil. We let the oxen go and eat as much of this as they
chose, which was very little and only enough to keep them from absolute
starvation. The great trail had a branch near here that turned north,
and went up a ravine that would seem to reach the snow in a little
while. This was believed to be impassable at this time of year. This
route is known as Walker's Pass, leading over a comparatively low ridge,
and coming out the south fork of the Kern River.

We made our camp here because it was as long a march as the women could
make, and, for a dry one, was as good a location as we could find. The
cool breeze came down from the snow to the north of us, not so very many
miles away, and after a little it became uncomfortably cold. We gathered
greasewood bushes and piled them up to make a wind-break for our heads.
The oxen, even, would come and stand around the fire, seeming greatly to
enjoy the warm smoke, which came from burning the greasewood brush,
which by the way, burns about the best of any green wood. When we were
ready to lie down we tied the animals to bunches of brush, and they lay
contentedly till morning.

To the north of us, a few miles away we could see some standing, columns
of rock, much reminding one of the great stone chimney of the boiler
house at Stanford Jr., University; not quite so trim and regular in
exterior appearance, but something in that order. We reckon the only
students in the vicinity would be lizards.

When the women arrived in camp they were very tired, but encouraged
themselves that they were much nearer the promised land than they were
in the morning. Mrs. Bennett said she was very careful never to take a
step backward, and to make every forward one count as much as possible.
"That's a good resolution, Sally," said Mr Bennett. "Stick to it and we
will come out by and bye."

From near this camp we have a low range of mountains to cross, a sort of
spur or offshoot of the great snow mountain that reaches out twenty
miles or more to the southeast, and its extremity divides away into what
seems from our point of view a level plain. We had attained quite an
elevation without realizing it, so gradual had been the ascent, and our
course was now down a steep hillside and into a deep canon. In its very
bottom we found a small stream of water only a few yards long, and then
it sank into the sands. Not a spear of grass grew there, and if any had
grown it had been eaten by the cattle which had gone before. This was
the same place, where Rogers and I had overtaken the advance portion of
the Jayhawkers when we were on our outward trip in search of relief, and
where some of the older men were so discouraged that they gave us their
home addresses in Illinois so that we could notify their friends of
their precarious situation, and if they were never otherwise heard from
they could be pretty sure they had perished from thirst and starvation
when almost at their journey's end.

The scenes of this camp on that occasion made so strong an impression on
my memory that I can never forget it. There were poor dependent fellows
without a morsel to eat except such bits of poor meat as they could beg
from those who were fortunate enough to own oxen. Their tearful
pleadings would soften a heart of stone. We shared with some of them
even when we did not know the little store upon our backs would last us
through. Our oxen here had water to drink, but nothing more. It might be
a little more comfortable to drink and starve, than both choke and
starve, but these are no very pleasant prospects in either one.

Both ourselves and the oxen were getting barefoot and our feet very
tender. The hill we had just come down was very rough and rocky and our
progress very slow, every step made in a selected spot. We could not
stop here to kill an ox and let the remainder of them starve, but must
push on to where the living ones could get a little food. We fastened
the oxen and the mule to keep them from wandering, and slept as best we
could. The women and children looked worse than for some time, and could
not help complaining. One of the women held up her foot and the sole was
bare and blistered. She said they ached like toothache. The women had
left their combs in the wagons, and their hair was getting seriously
tangled. Their dresses were getting worn off pretty nearly to their
knees, and showed the contact with the ground that sometimes could not
be avoided. They were in a sad condition so far as toilet and raiment
were concerned. Life was in the balance, however, and instead of talking
over sad things, we talked of the time when we would reach the little
babbling brook where Rogers and I took such long draughts of clear,
sweet water and the waiter at our dinner gave us the choice of _Crow_,
_Hawk_ or _Quail_, and where we took a little of all three.

[Illustation: Pulling the Oxen Down the Precipice.]

In the morning we were off again down the canon, limping some as we trod
its coarse gravelly bed with our tender feet and stiffened joints, but
getting limbered up a little after a bit, and enduring it pretty well.
We set out to try to reach the bunch of willows out on the level plain,
where the cattle could get some water and grass, but night overtook us
at the mouth of the canon, and we were forced to go into camp. This
canon is now called Red Canon. This was on an elevated plain, with a
lake near by, but as we had been so often deceived by going to the lake
for water, and finding them salt in every instance, or poison on account
of strong alkali, we did not take the trouble to go and try this one.

Near us was some coarse grass and wet ground where we found water enough
for our moderate use, and the oxen, by perseverance, could get something
to eat and drink. After supper we were out of meat and we would have to
kill an ox to get some food for breakfast. In the night a storm came on,
much to our surprise, for we had seen none since the night on the
mountain east of Death Valley more than two months before. We tried to
fix up a shelter to protect the children and ourselves, but were not
very successful. We tried to use our guns for tent poles, but could not
keep them in place. We laid down as close as pigs in cold weather, and
covered up as best we could, but did not keep dry, and morning found us
wet to the skin, cold and shivering. We gathered big sage brush for a
fire in the morning, and the tracks of our nearly bare feet could be
plainly seen in the snow which lay like a blanket awhile over the
ground, about two inches deep. Some lay in bed and we warmed blankets
before the fire and put over them to keep them comfortable till the sun
should rise and warm the air. We selected an ox and brought him up
before the fire where I shot him, and soon there was meat roasting over
the fire and blood cooking in the camp kettle. We had nothing to season
the blood pudding with but salt, and it was not very good, but answered
to sustain life. We ate a hasty meal, then packed our animals and
started for the willow patch about four miles away. The snow was about
gone.

I staid in camp to keep it till they could get through to the willows
and some one to come back with the mule to carry forward the portion of
meat that could not be taken at first. We intended to dry it at the
willows, and then we could carry it along as daily food over the wide
plain we had yet to cross. Having carried the meat forward, we made a
rack of willows and dried it over the fire, making up a lot of moccasins
for the barefooted ones while we waited. We were over most of the rocky
road, we calculated that our shoemaking would last us through. This was
a very pleasant camp. The tired ones were taking a rest. No one needed
it more than our women and children, who were tired nearly out. They
were in much better condition to endure their daily hardships than when
they started out, and a little rest would make them feel quite fresh
again. They understood that this was almost on the western edge of this
desert country and this gave them good hope and courage.

This wonderful spot in the level plain, with a spring of pure water
making an oasis of green willows and grass has been previously spoken of
as:--"A spring of good water, and a little willow patch in a level
desert away from any hill." In all our wanderings we had never seen the
like before. No mountaineer would ever think of looking here for water,
much less ever dream of finding a lone spring away out in the desert,
several miles from the mountain's base. Where the range we just came
through leaves the mother mountain stands a peak, seemingly alone, and
built up of many colored rocks, in belts, and the whole looks as if
tipped with steel.

Arcane's boy Charley still suffered from his bogus measles or whatever
else his disorder might be, and Bennett's little Martha grew more quiet
and improved considerably in health, though still unable to walk, and
still abdominally corpulent. The other two children George and Melissa
seemed to bear up well and loved to get off and walk in places where the
trail was smooth and level. Bennett, Arcane and Old Crump usually
traveled with the same party as the women, and as each of them had a
small canteen to carry water, they could attend to the wants of the
children and keep them from worrying and getting sick from fretfulness.
They often carried the two younger ones on their backs to relieve and
rest them from their cramped position on the ox.

Arcane used to say he expected the boys--meaning Rogers and I--would try
to surprise the party by letting them get very near the house before
they knew how near they were. "Be patient Mr. Arcane," said we, "we can
tell you just how many camps there must be before we reach it, and we
won't fool you or surprise you in any way." "Well," said he. "I was
almost in hopes you would, for I like to be disappointed in that way."
"What do you think the folks will say when we tell them that our little
mule packed most of the meat of an ox four miles from one camp to
another?" "What will they say when we tell them that the oxen were so
poor that there was no marrow in the great thigh bones?" Instead of
marrow there was a thick dark liquid something like molasses in
consistency, but streaked with different colors which made it look very
unwholesome. Arcane said the whole story was so incredible, that he
never should fight anyone, even if he should tell him he lied when he
related the strange sad truth. He said he had no doubt many a one would
doubt their story, it was so much beyond what people had ever seen or
heard of before, and they might be accused of very strong romancing in
the matter.

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