Death Valley in \'49 by William Lewis Manly

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All were soon mounted and off to the buffalo fields, Walker having
informed us that he intended going up into the buffalo country on the
head-waters of Grand River where he would remain until snow fell, when
he would go to Salt Lake City, or vicinity.

Leaving the river, we set out across a not entirely barren plain, for
there was much sage-brush, and several varieties of cactus. Towards
evening we came close up to the foot of a range of rugged, rocky
mountains, where we found water and camped for the night. Field and I
usually pitched our little muslin tent somewhere near our friends where
we could sleep without fear of man or beast, for I think some one of the
reds was always on guard.

All went well for four or five days, when we all got entirely out of
food except a few ounces of flour which we had hidden away for a
possible emergency. During the following two days and nights all were
entirely without food except the two little children, whom you no doubt
remember. We gave their mother a little flour now and then which she
mixed with a little milk which one of the cows afforded, for the little
ones. These Indians did not seem to suffer for want of food; even when
we were starving, they appeared happy and contented; and one young
fellow would sing all day long while we were starving. Daring the second
day of starvation and hard traveling over hot and barren deserts, the
Indians killed a wild-cat and two small rabbits. We got nothing. You
will remember that all the arms of the seven men were lost in the river
when the canoes were sunk, except your rifle and my double barreled
shot-gun and revolver, so that Field and I had only the one gun, and
neither of us knew anything about hunting. When we camped, one of the
boys brought over to our tent a quarter of the cat, which was more than
a fair share of the whole supply, as twenty-two of them had only the two
little rabbits and three quarters of the unfortunate cat. We boiled and
boiled and boiled that cat's hind leg, but never got it done. We waited
as long as we possibly could, gave up in despair and put a little flour
into the broth to thicken it, and drank it. It was not good, but much
better the meat of the cat. That cat and the rabbits were all the
twenty-four of us had to eat, after fasting two days, until late in the
evening of the next day.

My people were religious, and when I was young the family was wont to
observe fast days, but never did we have any such long fasts as these
were. In the afternoon of the next day the old chief left the caravan
and went on ahead of the train toward a chain of mountains, first giving
some directions to the band, and taking one son with him. When we
arrived in a small canon in the edge of the mountains we found them with
a fine mountain sheep which they had killed and brought down to the dim,
little-used trail where we camped; and after we had set up our little
tent as usual, a short distance away from our friends, one of the young
men brought to us about one fourth of the sheep, while the twenty-two
Indians had the rest.

You know that a good-sized mountain sheep would make a fair supper for
twenty-four people, even though they had been starving three or four
days; but this was a small one, and I think Field and I ate about half
of the quarter. The twenty-two Indians soon devoured the three-fourths
and all of the soft viscera, including the stomach and intestines, after
which some of the boys came to our tent while we were stuffing our, what
had been for several days empty, stomachs. We offered them part of our
bounteous supply of mutton, having much more than we could eat; but no,
they would not touch it until we were filled full, when they accepted
what was left, and soon stowed it away. All were now pretty well filled
up once more.

The next day was spent without food, traveling over rough mountains.
Within a pass, late in the afternoon, we crossed the fresh trail of some
other band of roving red-skins, and Walker suspected who they were, and
went into camp early. The Indians had killed nothing that day, but I had
killed a small rabbit which, unfortunately for it, came in my way during
the day. This we offered to the women for themselves and the little
children; but they positively refused to accept it, insisting that they
did not want it or need it, and that the small supply of milk from the
cow was quite sufficient for the little ones, and the others spurned the
offer to divide so little a thing, so we had it all to ourselves.

It appeared that these people were accustomed to go for long periods
without food, and with little apparent inconvenience; but Field and I
began to feel as I suppose Dr. Tanner felt after a few days' fasting,
and began to wish that the old chief would get hungry and kill one of
his large, fat steers, but he still held them in reserve.

Early the next morning, now nine days from the time we had left the
river, the old chief took two of the young men and left camp, as we
afterwards learned, to go in search of the Indians whose trail we had
crossed the evening before. Some time in the early part of the night,
one of the young men returned and informed us that they had found the
wandering tribe, and that we were to go back to their trail and follow
it to their camp up in a Southeast direction, Walker and one of the
young men having remained with their new-found friends.

Field and I both felt greatly disappointed in not being able to proceed
north; and in the meantime we had become very tired of the society of
these people, notwithstanding the fact that they were exceedingly
clever; but we were almost starved to death, and had about come to the
conclusion that we would be obliged to make some change. We were still
on the east side of, and considerable distance from the river, and
probably not more than one hundred, or one hundred and twenty miles from
the place where we parted from you.

The chief had sent particular instructions for us to go with the tribe;
but, after canvassing the whole situation, we decided to part company
with our good friends, proceed northward, and try to reach Fort Bridger
or some other settlement in the northwest, and so informed them, and
requested the boys to bring in our mule and horse, which they did after
failing to induce us to go with them.

Bright and early the next morning, they all, even the polygamous wives
and little children, in apparent sorrow, bade us good-bye, and were off,
leaving us alone with our two poor, lonely, four-footed companions, who
were very anxious to follow the band of horses. After the rather
melancholy parting we arranged our packs, and about ten o'clock started
out on what then seemed, and afterwards proved, to be a perilous voyage
through deserts, and over rough mountains. To avoid a high range of
mountains, our course was for a time northeast but, after passing that
range we bore to the northwest.

The days were quite warm, but the nights were cold. During the first day
we killed and ate one small rabbit, and this, with a few seed buds
gathered from wild rose bushes, constituted two days' rations. On the
third we did not have even the rabbit or rose seed buds, but late in the
afternoon we found some small red berries, similar in appearance to what
I, in my childhood, knew and relished as Solomon's seal berries. I being
a natural coward, and fearing that they might poison me, did not eat any
of them, but generously allowed my good friend to eat them all.

We had now been almost entirely without water for two days and nights.
When night came on we picketed our animals in a grass plot and lay down
near them to see that they did not get tangled in the ropes and hurt, or
that some red skin, not having the fear of the Lord in his heart, did
not come and take them away. About ten o'clock my companion began to
complain of pain in his stomach and bowels, and was soon vomiting at a
fearful rate; so violently, indeed, that I was apprehensive that he
might die. If I had had an emetic I would have given it to him to have
assisted nature in pumping those devilish little red berries out of him,
for I felt quite sure that they were the cause of his illness. Perhaps
it was fortunate that there was no medecine at hand, for if there had
been I might have killed him with it.

He suffered most intensely, and soon became very thirsty, and, there
being no water within many miles of us, he appealed to me to bleed one
of the animals and let him drink the blood; I refused: he insisted; I
again refused: he commanded; I still refused. He swore, and called me
almost everything except a good Christian; he even expressed the wish
that I, his friend, might be sent to a certain place where the heat is
most intense, and the fire is never quenched.

At about eleven o'clock, when his pains were most severe, a dark cloud,
the first we had seen for months, came over us, and a little rain began
to fall, when I at once opened our little camp kettle and turned the lid
upside down, and into both kettle and lid there fell perhaps two or
three teaspoonfuls of pure water, every drop of which I gave to the
sufferer, whereupon he expressed thanks for another God-send, and at
once apologized for bestowing unmerited abuse on me. He afterwards often
asserted that he believed that the little rain-cloud was sent by God for
his special benefit, and that the water caught from that cloud was the
sweetest and best that he had ever tasted. I did not doubt the latter
half of the above statement, but I did have some doubt about the truth
of the former half when I called to mind the scene which followed my
refusal to bleed the horse. Whether the small quantity of water gave him
much relief, or not, I do not know, but I do know that he soon became
better and slept some while I watched. He was quite feeble next morning
when I put him on the old sore-backed mule, where he rode most of the
time for the next four days, while the little horse carried our baggage,
and I led the way as usual, on foot.

For four days from the time Field ate the little red berries we did not
have a drop of water except the two or three teaspoonfuls which the
stingy cloud left to save the life of the "berry-eater." We were still
on the desert, or in the mountains east of the river, traveling hard
during the day, and burning up with fever in the night. There was plenty
of drying grass in places, but our poor animals could not eat it any
longer, for they, too, were burning up for want of water. Oh, how much I
did wish that we had some camels from Arabia, which could have gone so
much longer without water, and traveled so much faster.

On the morning of the third day of starvation, we determined to change
our course, and, if possible, reach the river once more. Bearing to the
left over a high, barren range of rocky mountains, and down into a plain
of sand, sage brush, and cactus. During the afternoon I shot a small
rabbit, not much larger than a rat, which we carried until night, then
broiled and tried to eat it, not because our appetites craved it, but
hoping that it might strengthen and sustain us, at least a little while
longer. We were, however, so nearly burned up that there was not a
sufficient flow of saliva to moisten the little bits of broiled meat in
the mouth. Late that afternoon we fancied that our fast failing brute
companions scented water, or that they instinctively knew that it was
not far away. They would raise their heads, and extend their noses as if
smelling, while their physical force and energy seemed renewed, and they
certainly traveled faster.

That night we ate the little, as before stated, more as a duty than as a
pleasure. There was some green grass round about where we camped, or,
more properly speaking, where we lay, for we did not erect our little
tent,--but the poor starving animals did not eat a bite of it, but stood
over us as if in sympathy with us in our deplorable condition. We rose
before the sun, being somewhat rested and refreshed, for the night had
been cool, and took up our line of march, I, as usual, in the lead, then
came the old mule guided by its precious owner, and lastly, the faithful
little horse with the pack on his still quite round back;--on over the
still dry and barren plain we went, without a Moses, cloud, or pillar of
fire to lead us.

About ten o'clock, through the hot glimmer of the down-pouring rays of
the sun, we saw what appeared, and afterwards proved, to be a clump of
cottonwood trees. Our hopes and courage were renewed, for we well knew
the cottonwood usually grows near flowing water. There was no beaten
pathway, no signs of animal life, no quails, no manna in that desert;
but on we went, almost without a halt, and at one o'clock reached the
cottonwood grove, immediately on the bank of the great river down which
we had floated in our canoes more than a month before. On reaching the
bank of the river we recognized objects which we had seen while on our
way down.

We remembered that both men and horses might be water-foundered, and
that self-preservation is said to be the first law of nature; but it was
difficult to prevent the famishing brutes from plunging into the river.
We allowed them to take only a small quantity at first, and each of us
took only a small cupful; then after a little time all took more, and
the thirst was soon quenched. We were surprised to find how little water
it took to satisfy the raging thirst of four days of continued fasting.
The animals, after taking comparatively small quantities, seemed
satisfied, and went off in search of grass.

We now had an abundance of water, but we well knew that water alone
would not sustain life very long: therefore our next, and most serious
business was to determine how to prolong our lives. According to our
map, our recollections of different objects, and present appearances we
were now a little above the mouth of the Uinta river which comes in from
the northwest, all of which proved true. Our little map pictured Fort
Uinta on the Uinta river about one hundred miles from where we were; but
whether or not there were any human beings there, we did not know, and
in order to determine we must cross this great river and travel a
hundred miles, and this seemed a perilous undertaking for us in our
present starving condition; but after being refreshed by plenty of good
water we determined to undertake it, hoping that good fortune might
attend us.

After a little rest, the animals with grass, we packed up, and after
Field had put on his, once serviceable, life preserver he mounted the
old mule behind the small pack and started to swim across the river. He
took the lead in this instance for three reasons: first, we thought that
the mule, being much older than the horse, had probably had more
experience and therefore might be a much better swimmer; then Field had
the advantage in having the life preserver; but the last, and most
potent, reason was my fear of getting drowned. It was understood that I
was to remain on shore and be ready to assist him if necessary, or until
he had safely landed on the other side.

In he went, and the trusty old mule was swimming faithfully, and had
reached the middle of the river, when Field, as he afterwards told me,
to hurry the mule, gave a gentle jerk on the bridle, when, to his utter
astonishment, the mule made a complete somerset backwards plunging
Field, the pack, and himself entirely under the water, except his heels
which appeared above the water as his head went under. In a moment Field
popped up and, after shaking his head as a swimmer will do after taking
a plunge, cast about to take his bearings, or to determine just where he
was, and began to paddle with his hands, much as he did when the canoes
were upset on the river, or somewhat after the style of a swimming dog.
On coming to the surface, the mule cast a glance at the still living,
but unloaded portion of his cargo, then made a bee line for the shore
which he had so recently left. While Field continued to paddle and float
down the river, I dismounted and followed along the bank, trying to
encourage him to renewed efforts to float ashore. Finally he passed
behind a clump of willows out of sight; but soon I heard him call for
help and on going a little further down, found him stuck fast in the
mud. I waded waist deep into that mud, and literally dragged him out,
almost a mile below his starting point.

As we were struggling in this muddy swamp, Field said he wondered why
some of this superfluous water was not distributed over those dry
deserts from which we had so recently come. I told him, politely, that I
thought that a man of his age, ability, opportunities, and nationality,
(you know he was quite proud of being an Englishman) ought to know why
the moisture was not so distributed, and that I was too illiterate to
enlighten him on that point, but that, when opportunity offered, he
might consult some one who knew more of natural science than I did. I
informed him that I had an idea that if any considerable portion of the
water of that river had been distributed over that desert that we would
not have had the experience of the last fifteen days, whereupon he very
plainly intimated that I did not have much sense, or, in other words, he
called me a d--d fool.

After reaching solid ground and resting for a little while, we returned
to the place from which he had started out on his perilous voyage, and
where I had hastily left my horse. We found the horse and mule quietly
grazing with their packs on their backs. The faithful old mule had the
appearance of having been wet, but was now almost dry, yet not so dry,
internally, as he had been several days before.

What shall we do now? We are perhaps two hundred or more miles from any
white settlement. We do not know that Fort Uinta is occupied. Shall we
make another attempt to cross the river? I asked my brave friend if he
was willing to again mount the mule and make another attempt, when he
again exclaimed, "You must be a d--d fool!" I then, pretending to have a
little courage, asked him if he would follow provided I would lead,
whereupon he declared most emphatically that under no conditions would
he again attempt to swim across that river. I had not had his
experience, but fear of being drowned was quite sufficient to prevent me
from undertaking the perilous task, more especially after witnessing his
failure.

Well, what next? We could not depend upon fishing and hunting, for we
had no fish-hooks, nor means of catching fish, and not more than a dozen
loads of shot, and a little powder; so the matter of slaying one of our
animal friends was now seriously debated, and, after thoroughly
canvassing the whole situation, it was most reluctantly determined that,
however hard, this must be done. No doubt our starving condition at that
particular time had some weight in making this decision.

Then the question was, which of the animals shall be sacrificed? The
mule was quite thin, and probably tough, while the little horse was
young, and, notwithstanding the many days it had, with all of us,
starved and traveled without water, was still quite plump and round, and
probably tender, or, at the worst, not so tough as the poor old docile
mule; so, at length we decided to kill the innocent little creature,
jerk his flesh, pack it on the mule, and thereby try to save our own
lives, for a time at least, and endeavor to reach some place of safety.

The matter of slaying the horse was determined by casting lots, neither
being willing to perform that melancholy, but now absolutely necessary,
act. It fell to my lot, and that was one of, if not the most revolting
act in my whole life's experience, for I had, probably, become as
strongly attached to that little horse as man ever becomes attached to
animal. I most reluctantly took the bridle in my left hand, my revolver
in my right, stood directly in front of the poor, unsuspecting, innocent
creature with the murderous pistol close to, and a little above a line
extending from eye to eye, and fired. When the smoke of the powder had
cleared off a little, I saw at my feet the quivering, dying body. I
staggered off a few steps and sat down, sick at heart.

Field walked several steps away, and turned his back upon the scene
until after the fatal shot had been fired; then, after some little time,
he entered upon his share of the enforced duty, and, after having
removed a portion of the skin, cut off some slices of flesh and brought
them to a fire I had started. We broiled and ate a little of it, not
through desire or relish for it, but from a sense of duty, knowing that
our lives depended upon it.

It is said that for many years Dr. Franklin refrained from eating flesh,
having an idea that it was wrong to slay and eat the flesh of other
creatures; but that he changed his mind, and his diet, too, after having
seen large fish devour small ones. I strongly suspect that if the doctor
had been with us, or in a like condition, even before his conversion, he
would, more than likely have taken a little flesh, even though it had
been a piece of his own favorite horse.

I said we only ate a little at first: I only ate a little for two
reason; first, I did not relish the food; second, I had heard of persons
being killed by eating too much after fasting for a long time, and I had
no desire to commit suicide just then. Field ate too much. Night came
on, work was suspended, and we retired. The poor old lone, and, no
doubt, now lonely, mule, having filled himself with grass, came up near
the now terribly-mutilated remains of his late companion, and looked on
as Field continued his bloody work. Field, with an expression of sorrow,
said, "If that mule could reason and look forward to the time when his
body might be in a like condition as that of this horse, he would, no
doubt, take to his heels, bid us a final farewell, and seek other
society." But, fortunately for us, he did not know that he was to be
held in reserve for our future security. He was securely tied up every
night from that time until the day he was slain for our salvation.

Early in the night following that eventful day, my companion began to
complain much as he had done on the night after he had eaten the little
red berries; but there was no lack of water now, no need of a special
rain-cloud. I got up, heated water in our little camp kettle, applied
hot cloths to his aching belly, and did everything else that either of
us could think of for his relief. The pain was intense, and we feared
that he would surely die, and earnestly prayed all the rest of the night
that he might be relieved, and get well. Towards morning most violent
vomiting came on, which continued for thirty hours, or more. He was not
able to walk for three days, and during that time I nursed him, finished
jerking the meat, and built a raft of some partly rotten logs, which I
found in the vicinity, on which we floated across the river, on the
fourth day after our arrival here. I also looked to the welfare of the
mule, and prepared some bags in which to carry our jerk. Manley, I am
sure that you know the meaning of the term "jerk" so that a definition
of the word is not at all necessary.

The old logs of which the raft was made were remnants of log cabins, a
number of which had been built and occupied more than half a century
before, but by whom I do not know. Field remarked that the finding of
these old rotting logs there was another "God send," as we then had
neither ax, hammer, nor any tool of iron with which to cut down a tree.
I bound these logs together with long strips cut from the hide of the
dead horse. Paddles and poles were also provided. The mule was with
difficulty driven across the river.

When the raft was landed on the west bank, the mule packed, and all
about ready to start, I took the long strip of raw-hide from the raft
and tied one end of it around the mule's neck, mounted Field on the mule
behind the large pack, which made the whole outfit look quite comical
indeed. Before leaving the other side of the river I had discovered that
the saddle girth was not very strong, so I cut a wide belt from the hide
of the lately slaughtered horse and fitted it to the saddle as a girth,
knowing that the pack, now containing all of our goods and a supply of
more than a bushel of jerk, would be quite bulky, if not heavy, and more
difficult to keep on the back of a mule than it is for the camel to
maintain his hump on his back. This girth afterwards made us two or
three pretty substantial meals, as did also the long strip of green, wet
hide, one end of which I had tied round the mule's neck, allowing it to
drag for a long distance through the hot dry sand.

All being ready, I, as usual, took the lead with my shot gun, which I
always carried, but with which I seldom killed anything, on my shoulder.
The old mule followed with his high, towering pack, and Field almost
hidden behind. It was noon, but we did not stop for dinner, but simply
reached into one of the great bulging sacks, took out a piece of jerk
and ate it as we went marching on; no more trouble now about cooking.
Late in the afternoon we reached Uinta river, and, as my two-legged
companion had grown very tired of the back of the four-legged one, we
went into camp early. Our objective point was Fort Uinta, where we hoped
to find military. We could not risk turning the mule loose at night, and
the long strip of raw-hide was designed and used to secure him, and yet
to afford him liberty to graze while we slept. As you will see a little
further on, both girth and lariat were used for a purpose not
anticipated.

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