Death Valley in \'49 by William Lewis Manly

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They all felt more like talking; for we were thus far safe and sound,
and though there was a desperate struggle of seventy-five miles or more,
from this place to the next water in the foot-hills. Possibly the snow
storms had left a little in some of the pools, but we made no
calculations on any. The promised land we had so steadily been
approaching, and now comparatively so near, gave us great hope, which
was better than food and drink to give us strength.

There were surely two camps between this and the little pond John and I
found, among the Cabbage trees, and not more than six by ten feet
square. As we worked away at our foot-wear we talked more in an hour
than we had in a whole day before. We were slowly leaving Death Valley
behind us with its sad memories and sufferings. We were leaving behind
the dead bodies of several who had traveled with us and been just as
strong and hopeful as we. We had left behind us all in our possession in
that terrible spot, and simply with our lives we hoped to escape, and
trust to Providence and humanity on the other side. Arcane now admitted
that they could not have got along half as well, if we had not gone
ahead and looked out the land. It was such a gain to know exactly where
the next water hole was, so it could be steered for and struggled
toward. He even went so far as to say they would have no chance alone,
and that as he now saw the road, he was sure they have would all
perished even before reaching as far as this. We had strong hopes of the
morrow, when we would be all rested, all were shod, and would make every
footstep count in our western progress.

It seems quite a strange occurrence that the only two storms we had had
since we turned westward on this route, Nov. 4th, were snow storms, and
that both had come while we were asleep, so that all our days were
cloudless. Sometimes the sun was uncomfortably warm even in the heart of
the winter. One would have naturally expected that the great rainfall
all over the California coast in the winter of 1849-50, and the deep
snows that came in the Sierra Nevada mountains the same winter, would
have extended southerly the few hundred miles that separated the two
places. Modern science has shown the tracks of the storms and partially
explains the reasons for this dry and barren nature of this region. When
rains do come they are so out of the regular order, that they are called
cloud-bursts or waterspouts, and the washes in the canons and their
mouths show how great has been the volume of water that sometimes rushed
down the slope. If clouds at a warm or moderate temperature float
against these snow peaks all the water they contain is suddenly
precipitated. The country is an arid one and unless wealth should appear
in the shape of mines, the country can never be inhabited. We considered
ourselves very fortunate in finding the little pools and holes of water
which kept us alive. It was not very good drinking water, but to us
thirsty folks it was a blessing and we never passed it by on account of
any little stagnant bitter taste. Salt water we could not drink of
course, though we sometimes used it to cook with.

We were as well prepared next morning as possible for a move, and the
long walk before us, the last one between us and the fertile land. They
all talked of how delighted they would be to see once more a running
brook, green grass and trees, and such signs of life as they had seen
and been used to in the good land they had left behind. The women said
they could endure the march of four or five days, if when all over, they
could sleep off the terrible fatigue and for once drink all the pure
sweet water they could desire. No more forced marches. No more grey
road, stretching out its dusty miles as far as the eye could reach. The
ladies thought the oxen would be as happy as themselves, and the little
mule, the most patient one of the whole train deserved a life of ease
for her valuable services. This little black, one-eyed lady wandered
here and there at will seeking for grass, but never going astray or
getting far enough from the track to alarm us in the least. She seldom
drank much water, was always ready, never got foot-sore, and seemed made
expressly for such a life and for such a desert.

A good kettleful of soup for breakfast, dried meat fixed in packages,
kegs and canteens filled with water, and we were ready for an advance.

There is one less ox to lead, and very little load for those we have,
still the load is all such poor weak fellows ought to bear. Old Crump
was not thus favored by a gradually lightened load. He bore the same
four children every day, faithfully, carefully, with never a stumble nor
fall, as though fully aware of the precious nature of his burden.

In this new march John and I took the oxen and pushed on as usual,
leaving the families to follow on, at a slower pace, the trail we made.
The trail was slightly inclined. The bushes stunted at the best, getting
smaller as we proceeded, and the horse bones, new and ancient are now
thickly scattered along the way. The soil is different from that we have
had. We can see the trail, winding gently here and there, swept clean by
the wind, and the surface is hard and good; but when the mule gets the
least bit off of it she sinks six inches deep into the soft sand, and
the labor of walking is immense. I stepped out to examine the peculiar
soil, and found it finer than superfine flour. It was evident that a
strong wind would lift it in vast clouds which might even darken the
sky, but we were fortunate in this respect, for during all the time we
were on this peculiar soil, there was no wind at all, and we escaped a
sand-storm, a sort of storm as peculiar to this region as are blizzards
to some of the states of the great west.

Our first night's camp was out on the barren waterless plain, now known
as the Mojave Desert. There were no shrubs large enough to make a fire
of, and nothing to tie our cattle to, so we fastened all our animals
together to keep them from scattering and getting lost. We ate a little
dry meat and drank sparingly of the water, for our scanty stock was to
last us another day, when we might reach prospective water holes.
Starting early, John and I took all but Old Crump and the other
travelers, and hurried on to try and find the water holes as early as
possible. We, as well as the oxen were very dry, for we left all the
water we had with the party, for the children, for they cannot endure
the thirst as the older people can. We reached the camping place before
night. Quite a time before we reached it, the cattle seemed to scent the
water and quickened their pace, so we were confident it had not dried
up. We got ahead of the oxen and kept there until we reached the little
pond and then guarded it to keep them from wading into it, in their
eagerness to reach some drink. They all satisfied their thirst, and then
we removed the harness, built a fire of the dead cabbage trees which we
found round about, laid down the beds and arranged them neatly, and had
all nicely done before the rear guard came up, in charge of Captain
Crump. The party was eager for water and all secured it. It was rain
water and no doubt did not quench thirst as readily as water from some
living spring or brook. There was evidence that there had been a recent
shower or snow to fill this depression up for our benefit. The
Jayhawkers had passed not more than a half mile north of this spot, but
no sign appeared that they had found it, and it was left to sustain the
lives of the women and children.

It often occurs to me that many may read incredulously when I speak of
our party eating the entire flesh of an ox in four or five days. To such
I will say that one cannot form an idea how poor an ox will get when
nearly starved so long. Months had passed since they had eaten a
stomachful of good nutritious food. The animals walked slowly with heads
down nearly tripping themselves up with their long, swinging legs. The
skin loosely covered the bones, but all the flesh and muscles had shrunk
down to the smallest space. The meat was tough and stringy as basswood
bark, and tasted strongly of bitter sage brush the cattle had eaten at
almost every camp. At a dry camp the oxen would lie down and grate their
teeth, but they had no cud to chew. It looked almost merciless to shoot
one down for food, but there was no alternative. We killed our poor
brute servants to save ourselves. Our cattle found a few bunches out
among the trees at this camp and looked some better in the morning. They
had secured plenty of water and some grass.

Young Charlie Arcane seemed to grow worse rather than better. His whole
body was red as fire, and he screamed with the pain and torment of the
severe itching. Nothing could be done to relieve him, and if his
strength lasted till we could get better air, water and food he might
recover, but his chances were very poor.

Not much rest at this camp for in the morning we aimed to start early
and reach the water in the foothills. We thought we could do it if we
started early, walked rapidly and took no resting spell at noon. Such a
poor soil as this we were anxious to get away from, and walk once more
on a soil that would grow something besides stunted sage brush. From all
appearances the Jayhawkers were here in about the same predicament
Rogers and I were when we lost the trail. By their tracks we could see
they had scattered wide and there was no road left for us to follow, and
they had evidently tried to follow our former tracks. Having no trail to
follow we passed on as best we could and came to a wide piece of land on
which were growing a great many cabbage trees. The soil was of the
finest dust with no grit in it, and not long before a light shower had
fallen, making it very soft and hard to get along in with the moccasins.
The women had to stop to rest frequently, so our progress was very slow.
Rogers and I had feet about as hard as those of the oxen, so we removed
our moccasins and went barefoot, finding we could get along much easier
in that way, but the others had such tender feet they could not endure
the rough contact with the brush and mud. Only a few miles had been made
before the women were so completely tired out that we had to stop and
eat our little bit of dried meat and wait till morning. The little mule
now carried all our stock of food, and the precious burden lightened
every day. This delay was not expected, but we had to endure it and bear
it patiently, for there was a limit to strength of the feeble ones of
our party. We had therefore to make another barren camp. Relief seemed
so near at hand we kept good courage and talked freely of the happy
ending which would soon come. If we had any way to set a good table we
would feast and be merry like the prodigal son, but at any rate we shall
be safe if we can reach the fertile shore.

When the sun went down we tied the mule and oxen to cabbage trees, and
shortly after dusk lay down ourselves, for we had enjoyed a good fire
made of the trunks of cabbage trees, the first really comfortable one in
a long time. The air was cooler here, for we were on higher ground, and
there was some snow on the range of mountains before us, which sent
these cool breezes down to us, a change of climate quite pleasing.

For breakfast in the morning we had only dried meat roasted before the
fire, without water, and when we started each one put a piece in his or
her pocket to chew on during the day as we walked along. As we went
ahead the ground grew dryer and the walking much improved. The morning
overhead was perfectly lovely, as away east, across the desert the sun
early showed his face to us. Not a cloud anywhere, not even over the
tops of the high peaks where great white masses sometimes cluster but
dissolve as soon as they float away, and there was not wind enough to be
perceptible. We remarked the same lack of animal life which we had
noticed on our first passage over this section, seeing not a rabbit,
bird, or living thing we could use for food. Bennett had the same load
in his gun he put there when we left the wagons, and all the powder I
had burned was that used in killing the oxen we had slain whenever it
became necessary to provide for our barren kitchen.

As we approached the low foot-hills the trail became better travelled
and better to walk in, for the Jayhawkers who had scattered, every one
for himself apparently, in crossing the plain, seemed here to have drawn
together and their path was quite a beaten one. We saw from this that
they followed the tracks made by Rogers and myself as we made our first
trip westward in search of bread. Quite a little before the sun went out
of sight in the west we reached our camping place in the lower hills at
the eastern slope of a range we must soon cross. Here was some standing
water in several large holes, that proved enough for our oxen, and they
found some large sage brush and small bushes round about, on which they
browsed and among which they found a few bunches of grass. Lying about
were some old skulls of cattle which had sometime been killed, or died.
These were the first signs of the sort we had seen along this route.
They might have been killed by Indians who doubtless used this trail.

The next day in crossing the range before us, we reached the edge of the
snow, which the sun had softened, and we dare not attempt to cross.
Early in the morning, when it was frozen hard the cattle could travel it
very well. The snow belt was five or six miles wide, and the snow two or
three feet deep. This was a very good camping place except that we had
to melt snow for all our water, but this being coarse and icy it was not
a great job as we found enough dry juniper trees and twigs to make a
very good fire. Here we also had to kill another ox. This one in its
turn was Arcane's, and left him only two, and Bennett three, but we
think that if we have no accident we shall get them along with us till
we can get other food, as they have very light loads to pack. When the
ox is killed and the meat prepared the mule has, for a time, a larger
load than all the oxen have, but seems content and nips a bite of food
whenever it can see a chance anywhere along the road, giving us no more
trouble than a dog. And by the way, I think I have not mentioned our
faithful camp dog, a worthy member of our party who stood watch always
and gave us a sure alarm if anything unusual happened anywhere about. He
was perhaps only one of a hundred that tried to cross the plains and had
to be abandoned when they reached the upper Platte, where the alkali
dust made their feet so sore they could not travel, and as they could
not be hauled on wagons they were left behind. But this dog Cuff did not
propose to be left behind to starve, and crippled along after us, we
doing all we could for him, and proved as tough as the best of us.
Bennett and I had trained him as a hunting dog in the East, and he was
very knowing and handy in every particular.

We were out of this camp at daylight. Very little rest for some of us,
but we must make the best of the cool morning while the snow is hard,
and so move on as soon as we can see the way. As it gets lighter and the
sun comes up red and hot out of the desert we have a grand view of the
great spread of the country to south and of the great snow mountain to
the north and east, the peak standing over the place where we left our
wagons nineteen days before, on the edge of Death Valley. The glare of
the snow on the sun makes us nearly blind, but we hurry on to try to
cross it before it becomes so soft as to slump under our feet. It is two
or three feet in the deepest places, and probably has been three times
as deep when freshly fallen, but it is now solid and icy. Our rawhide
moccasins protect our feet from cold, and both we and the animals got
along fairly well, the oxen breaking through occasionally as the snow
softened up, but generally walking on the top as we did ourselves. The
snow field reached much farther down the western slope than we had
hoped, much farther than on the eastern side. Before we got out of it,
we saw the track of some animal which had crossed our route, but as it
had been made some days before and now could be seen only as some holes
in the surface, we could not determine what sort of an animal it was.

A mile or two down the hill we were at last out of the snow, and a
little farther on we came to the little babbling brook Rogers and I had
so long painted in the most refreshing colors to the tired women, with
water, wood and grass on every hand, the three greatest blessings of a
camper's life. Here was where Rogers and I had cooked and eaten our meat
of crow, quail and hawk, pretty hard food, but then, the blessed water!

There it danced and jumped over the rocks singing the merriest song one
ever heard, as it said--Drink, drink ye thirsty ones your fill--the
happiest sweetest music to the poor starved, thirsty souls, wasted down
almost to haggard skeletons. O! if some poet of wildest imagination
could only place himself in the position of those poor tired travelers
to whom water in thick muddy pools had been a blessing, who had eagerly
drank the fluid even when so salt and bitter us to be repulsive, and now
to see the clear, pure liquid, distilled from the crystal snow,
abundant, free, filled with life and health--and write it in words--the
song of that joyous brook and set it to the music that it made as it
echoed in gentle waves from the rocks and lofty walls, and with the
gentle accompaniment of rustling trees--a soft singing hush, telling of
rest, and peace, and happiness.

New life seemed to come to the dear women. "O! What a beautiful stream!"
say they, and they dip in a tin cup and drink, then watch in dreaming
admiration the water as it goes hurrying down; then dip and drink again,
and again watch the jolly rollicking brook as if it were the most
entertaining thing in the whole wide earth. "Why can't such a stream as
that run out of the great Snow Mountain in the dry Death Valley?" say
they--"so we could get water on the way."

The men have felt as glad as any of them, but have gathered wood and
made a fire, and now a camp kettle of cut up meat is boiling for our
supper. It was not yet night, but we must camp in so beautiful a place
as this, and though the food was poor, we were better off than we had
been before.

Bennett proposed that I take the mule and go back to where we saw the
track of the animal in the snow and follow it in hope that we might get
some game for we had an idea it might be an elk or bear or some large
game, good to kill and give us better meat: So I saddled the mule and
took the trail back till I came to the track, then followed it as best I
could, for it was very dull and gave me no idea what it was. I traced
out of the snow and then in a blind way through bushes as high as the
mule's back--Chaparral we called it now--among which I made my way with
difficulty. I could now see that the track was made by an ox or
cow--perhaps an elk--I could not tell for sure it was so faint. This
chaparral covered a large piece of table land, and I made my way through
it, following the track for a mile or two, till I came to the
top of a steep hill sloping down into a deep canon and a creek, on the
bank of which grew sycamore and alder trees, with large willows. I
stopped here some minutes to see if I could see or hear the movement of
of anything. Across the creek I could see a small piece of perhaps half
an acre of natural meadow, and in it some small bunches of sycamore
trees. After a little I discovered some sort of a horned animal there,
and I reckoned this was good enough game for me to try and capture, so
led the mule out to one side and down the hill near the creek, then tied
her, and crept along the bank, about four feet high, toward the little
meadow. When about right, as I thought, I climbed up behind a bunch of
sycamores, and when I slowly and cautiously raised up I was within fifty
yards of a cow or steer of some sort which I could dimly see. I put a
ball square in its forehead and it fell without a struggle. I loaded
again quick as possible, and there saw two other smaller cattle stepping
very high as though terrified, but not aware of the nature or location
of the danger. I gave a low whistle and one of them looked toward me
long enough for me to put a ball in it. The third one was now behind a
clump of sycamores, and I soon saw its face through a little opening not
more than three inches wide. I made a shot, and wounded it, and then
rushed up and gave it a fatal one.

I examined my game and found the first one was a poor old cow, but the
others were yearlings, one of them very fat and nice, and I soon had the
hind quarters skinned out, and all the fat I could find, which made a
big load for the mule. It was now almost dark, and the next problem was
to get back to camp again. The brushy hills would be terrible to cross
with a load of meat, and by the way the ground lay I concluded our camp
was on this same creek farther down.

The only way that seemed at all feasible was to follow the course of the
stream if possible, rather than return the course over which I had come.
There were so many bushes and trees along the bank that I had to take to
the bed and follow in the water, and as it was rocky and rough, and so
dark I could not see well how to step, I stumbled into holes and pools
up to my waist, wet as a rat. Coming to a small open place I decided I
had better camp for the night and not attempt further progress in the
darkness, and the decision was hastened by dark clouds, which began to
gather and a few sprinkles of rain began to come. There was a good patch
of grass for the mule, but all was uncomfortable for me, with the
prospect for a rainy night, but as wood was plenty I decided to make a
fire and take the chances. I looked for matches and scratched one. No
go--they were damp, and scratch as careful and quickly as I could, there
was no answering spark or flame, and darkness reigned supreme. A camp
without a fire in this wet place was not to be thought of, so I
concluded I might as well be slowly working my way down along the
stream, through thick brush and cold water, as to sit here in the cold
and wait.

So the little mule and I started on, wading the creek in thick darkness,
getting only the most dim reflected light from the sky through now and
then an opening in the trees. I did not know then how easy it was for a
grizzly to capture myself, the mule and meat and have quite a variety
for supper. But the grizzly stayed at home and we followed on through
brambles and hard brush, through which it was almost impossible to force
one's way. As it turned out, I was not in the track of the storm and did
not suffer much from it. Soon the canon grew wider, and I could make out
on the right hand a piece of table land covered with brush that seemed
easier to get through than the creek bed.

The hill up to the table land was very steep, but not more than fifty
yards high, and when the mule tried to get up she got along very well
till near the top, when she slipped in the wet earth and never stopped
till she reached the bottom and lay down. She was helped up to her feet
again and we tried it in another place, I holding her from slipping when
she stopped to rest, and at last we reached the top. The mule started
on, seeming to follow a trail, but I could not see whether there was a
trail or not, so thick was the darkness, but there was evidently
something of the kind, for the brush was two or three feet high and very
thick.

After proceeding some distance the mule stopped and did not seem to wish
to go any farther. I was pretty sure there was something in front of her
that blocked the way, and so worked my way through the brush and
carefully past her. I could partly see and partly hear something just
ahead, and in a moment found it was our good faithful Cuff, and no
frightful spook at all. The good fellow had discovered our approach and
came out to meet us, and I am sure the mule was as glad as I was to see
him. He crawled through the brush and smelled at the mule's load and
then went forward in the trail, which we followed. It was a long time
after midnight when we reached camp. There was a good fire burning, but
all were asleep till I led the mule up to the fire and called out--"Wake
Up," when they were most of them on their feet in a minute without
stopping to dress, for all had slept a long time without taking off
their clothes.

John took charge of the mule and unloaded it, telling me to get into his
warm bed. I took off my wet clothes and told him to dry them, and then
got between the dry, warm blankets in greatest comfort. Daylight came
very quickly, it seemed to me, and before I finally rose, the sun had
been up some hours before me. Before I fell asleep I could hear the
women say, as they cut off the pieces of meat to roast--"See the fat!
Only see how nice it is!" Quickly roasted on the coals they ate the
delicate morsels with a relish and, most of all, praised the sweet fat.
"We like to have it all fat," said they, showing how their system craved
the nourishment the poor starved beef could not give. No one went to bed
after I came, but all sat and roasted meat and ate till they were
satisfied.

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