Death Valley in \'49 by William Lewis Manly

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A few days after this we were stopped entirely by a herd of buffaloes
crossing our road. They came up from the river and were moving south.
The smaller animals seemed to be in the lead, and the rear was brought
up by the old cows and the shaggy, burly bulls. All were moving at a
smart trot, with tongues hanging out, and seemed to take no notice of
us, though we stood within a hundred yards of them. We had to stand by
our teams and stock to prevent a stampede, for they all seemed to have a
great wonder, and somewhat of fear at their relatives of the plains.
After this we often saw large droves of them in the distance. Sometimes
we could see what in the distance seemed a great patch of brush, but by
watching closely we could see it was a great drove of these animals.
Those who had leisure to go up to the bluffs often reported large droves
in sight. Antelopes were also seen, but these occupied the higher
ground, and it was very hard to get near enough to them to shoot
successfully. Still we managed to get a good deal of game which was very
acceptable as food.

One prominent land mark along the route was what they called Court House
Rock, standing to the south from the trail and much resembled an immense
square building, standing high above surrounding country. The farther we
went on the more plentiful became the large game, and also wolves and
prairie dogs, the first of which seemed to follow the buffaloes closely.

About this time we met a odd looking train going east, consisting of
five or six Mormons from Salt Lake, all mounted on small Spanish mules.
They were dressed in buckskin and moccasins, with long spurs jingling at
their heels, the rowels fully four inches long, and each one carried a
gun, a pistol and a big knife. They were rough looking fellows with
long, matted hair, long beards, old slouch hats and a generally back
woods get-up air in every way. They had an extra pack mule, but the
baggage and provisions were very light. I had heard much about the
Mormons, both at Nauvoo and Salt Lake, and some way or other I could not
separate the idea of horse thieves from this party, and I am sure I
would not like to meet them if I had a desirable mule that they wanted,
or any money, or a good looking wife. We talked with them half an hour
or so and then moved on.

We occasionally passed by a grave along the road, and often a small head
board would state that the poor unfortunate had died of cholera. Many of
these had been torn open by wolves and the blanket encircling the corpse
partly pulled away. Our route led a few miles north of Chimney Rock,
standing on an elevated point like a tall column, so perfect and regular
on all sides, that from our point it looked as if it might be the work
of the stone cutters. Some of the party went to see it and reported
there was no way to ascend it, and that as far as a man could reach, the
rocks were inscribed with the names of visitors and travelers who passed
that way.

At Scott's Bluffs, the bluffs came close to the river, so there was
considerable hill climbing to get along, the road in other places
finding ample room in the bottom. Here we found a large camp of the
Sioux Indians on the bank of a ravine, on both sides of which were some
large cottonwood trees. Away up in the large limbs platforms had been
made of poles, on which were laid the bodies of their dead, wrapped in
blankets and fastened down to the platform by a sort of a network of
smaller poles tightly lashed so that they could not be dragged away or
disturbed by wild animals. This seemed a strange sort of cemetery, but
when we saw the desecrated earth-made graves we felt that perhaps this
was the best way, even if it was a savage custom.

These Indians were fair-sized men, and pretty good looking for red men.
Some of our men went over to their camp, and some of their youths came
down to ours, and when we started on they seemed quite proud that they
had learned a little of the English language, but the extent of their
knowledge seemed to be a little learned of the ox-drivers, for they
would swing their hands at the cattle and cry out "Whoa! haw, g--d
d--n." Whether they knew what was meant, I have my doubts. They seemed
pretty well provided for and begged very little, as they are apt to do
when they are hard pressed.

We saw also some bands of Pawnee Indians on the move across the
prairies. They would hitch a long, light pole on each side of a pony,
with the ends dragging behind on the ground, and on a little platform at
the hind end the children sat and were dragged along.

As we passed on beyond Scott's Bluff the game began to be perceptibly
scarcer, and what we did find was back from the traveled road, from
which it had apparently been driven by the passing hunters.

In time we reached Ft. Laramie, a trading post, where there were some
Indian lodges, and we noticed that some of the occupants had lighter
complexions than any of the other Indians we had seen. They had cords of
dried buffalo meat, and we purchased some. It was very fat, but was so
perfectly cured that the clear tallow tasted as sweet as a nut. I
thought it was the best dried meat I had ever tasted, but perhaps a good
appetite had something to do with it.

As we passed Ft. Laramie we fell in company with some U.S. soldiers who
were going to Ft. Hall and thence to Oregon. We considered them pretty
safe to travel with and kept with them for some time, though their rate
of travel was less than ours. Among them were some Mormons, employed as
teamsters, and in other ways, and they told us there were some
Missourians on the road who would never live to see California. There
had been some contests between the Missourians and the Mormons, and I
felt rather glad that none of us hailed from Pike county.

We turned into what they called the Black Hills, leaving the Platte to
the north of us. The first night on this road we had the hardest rain I
ever experienced, and the only one of any account on our journey. Our
camp was on a level piece of ground on the bank of a dry creek, which
soon became a very wet creek indeed, for by morning it was one hundred
yards wide and absolutely impassible. It went down, however, as quickly
as it rose, and by ten o'clock it was so low that we easily crossed and
went on our way. We crossed one stream where there were great drifts or
piles of hail which had been brought down by a heavy storm from higher
up the hills. At one place we found some rounded boulders from six to
eight inches in diameter, which were partly hollow, and broken open were
found to contain most beautiful crystals of quartz, clear as purest ice.
The inside was certainly very pretty, and it was a mystery how it came
there. I have since learned that such stones are found at many points,
and that they are called geodes.

We came out at the river again at the mouth of Deer Creek, and as there
was some pretty good coal there quite easy to get, we made camp one day
to try to tighten our wagon tires, John Rogers acting as blacksmith.
This was my first chance to reconnoiter, and so I took my gun and went
up the creek, a wide, treeless bottom. In the ravines on the south side
were beautiful groves of small fir trees and some thick brush, wild rose
bushes I think. I found here a good many heads and horns of elk, and I
could not decide whether they had been killed in winter during the deep
snow, or had starved to death.

There was a ferry here to cross the river and go up along north side.
Mr. Dallas bought the whole outfit for a small sum and when we were
safely over he took with him such ropes as he wanted and tied the boat
to the bank The road on this side was very sandy and led over and among
some rolling hills. In talking with the men of the U.S. troops in whose
company we still were, I gathered much information concerning our road
further west. They said we were entirely too late to get through to
California, on account of crossing the Sierra Nevada mountains, which,
they said would be covered with snow by November, or even earlier, and
that we would be compelled to winter at Salt Lake. Some of the drivers
overheard Mr. Dallas telling his family the same thing, and that if he
should winter at Salt Lake, he would discharge his drivers as soon as he
arrived, as he could not afford to board them all winter.

This was bad news for me, for I had known of the history of them at
Nauvoo and in Missouri, and the prospect of being thrown among them with
no money to buy bread was a very sorry prospect for me. From all I could
learn we could not get a chance to work, even for our board there, and
the other drivers shared my fears and disappointment. In this dilemma we
called a council, and invited the gentleman in to have an understanding.
He came and our spokesman stated the case to him, and our fears, and
asked him what he had to say to us about it. He flew quite angry at us,
and talked some and swore a great deal more, and the burden of his
speech was:--"This train belongs to me and I propose to do with it just
as I have a mind to, and I don't care a d--n what you fellows do or say.
I am not going to board you fellows all winter for nothing, and when we
get to Salt Lake you can go where you please, for I shall not want you
any longer." We talked a little to him and under the circumstances to
talk was about all we could do. He gave us no satisfaction and left us
apparently much offended that we had any care for ourselves.

Then we had some talk among ourselves, at the time, and from day to day
as we moved along. We began to think that the only way to get along at
all in Salt Lake would be to turn Mormons, and none of us had any belief
or desire that way and could not make up our minds to stop our journey
and lose so much time, and if we were not very favored travelers our lot
might be cast among the sinners for all time.

We were now on the Sweetwater River, and began to see the snow on the
Rocky Mountains ahead of us, another reminder that there was a winter
coming and only a little more than half our journey was done. We did not
feel very happy over it, and yet we had to laugh once in a while at some
of the funny things that would happen.

The Government party we were with had among them a German mule driver
who had a deal of trouble with his team, but who had a very little
knowledge of the English language. When the officers tried to instruct
him a little he seemed to get out of patience and would say something
very like _Sacramento_. We did not know exactly what this meant. We had
heard there was a river of that name or something very near like that;
and then again some said that was the Dutch for swearing. If this latter
was the truth then he was a very profane mule driver when he got mad.

The Captain of the company had a very nice looking lady with him, and
they carried a fine wall tent which they occupied when they went into
camp. The company cook served their meals to them in the privacy of
their tent, and they seemed to enjoy themselves very nicely. Everybody
thought the Captain was very lucky in having such an accomplished
companion, and journey along quietly to the gold fields at government
expense.

There seemed to be just a little jealousy between the Captain and the
Lieutenant, and one day I saw them both standing in angry attitude
before the Captain's quarters, both mounted, with their carbines lying
across their saddles before them. They had some pretty sharp, hot words,
and it looked as if they both were pretty nearly warmed up to the
shooting point. Once the Lieutenant moved his right hand a little, and
the Captain was quick to see it, shouting;--"Let your gun alone or I
will make a hole through you," at the same time grasping his own and
pointing it straight at the other officer. During all this time the
Captain's lady stood in the tent door, and when she saw her favorite had
the drop on the Lieutenant she clapped her delicate, little hands in a
gleeful manner:--"Just look at the Captain! Ain't he spunky?" and then
she laughed long and loud to see her lord show so much military courage.
She seemed more pleased at the affair than any one else. I don't know
exactly what the others thought, but I never could believe that the lady
and the Captain were ever married.

The Lieutenant was no coward, but probably thinking that prudence was
the better part of valor, refrained from handling his gun, and the two
soon rode away in opposite directions.

We passed a lone rock standing in the river bottom on the Sweetwater,
which they named Independence Rock. It was covered with the names of
thousands of people who had gone by on that road. Some were pretty
neatly chiseled in, some very rudely scrawled, and some put on with
paint. I spent all the time I could hunting Mr. Bennett's name, but I
could not find it anywhere. To have found his name, and thus to know
that he had safely passed this point would have been a little
re-assuring in those rather doubtful days. Some had named the date of
their passing, and some of them were probably pretty near the gold
fields at this time.

All along in this section we found alkali water near the road, some very
strong and dangerous for man or beast to use. We traveled on up the
Sweetwater for some time, and at last came to a place where the road
left the river, and we had a long, hard hill to pull up. When we reached
the top of this we were in the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains, the
backbone of the American continent. To the north of us were some very
high peaks white with snow, and to the south were some lower hills and
valleys. The summit of the mountains was not quite as imposing as I
expected, but it was the summit, and we were soon surely moving down the
western side, for at Pacific Springs the water ran to the westward,
toward the Pacific coast. The next day we came to the nearly dry bed of
the river--the Big Sandy. The country round about seemed volcanic, with
no timber, but plenty of sage brush, in which we were able to shoot an
occasional sage hen. The river bed itself was nothing but sand, and
where there was water enough to wet it, it was very miry and hard
traveling over it. There are two streams, the Big Sandy and Little
Sandy, both tributaries to Green River, which we soon reached and
crossed.

It was a remarkable clear and rapid stream and was now low enough to
ford. One of the Government teams set out to make the crossing at a
point where it looked shallow enough, but before the lead mules reached
the opposite shore, they lost their footing and were forced to swim. Of
course the wagon stopped and the team swung round and tangled up in a
bad shape. They were unhitched and the wagon pulled back, the load was
somewhat dampened, for the water came into the wagon box about a foot.
We camped here and laid by one day, having thus quite a little chance to
look around.

When we came to the first water that flowed toward the Pacific Coast at
Pacific Springs, we drivers had quite a little talk about a new scheme.
We put a great many "ifs" together and they amounted to about this:--If
this stream were large enough; if we had a boat; if we knew the way: if
there were no falls or bad places; if we had plenty of provisions; if we
were bold enough set out on such a trip, etc., we might come out at some
point or other on the Pacific Ocean. And now when we came to the first
of the "ifs," a stream large enough to float a small boat; we began to
think more strongly about the other "ifs".

In the course of our rambles we actually did run across the second "if"
in the shape of a small ferry boat filled up with sand upon a bar, and
it did not take very long to dig it out and put it into shape to use,
for it was just large enough to hold one wagon at a time. Our military
escort intended to leave us at this point, as their route now bore off
to the north of ours. I had a long talk with the surgeon who seemed well
informed about the country, and asked him about the prospects. He did
not give the Mormons a very good name. He said to me:--"If you go to
Salt Lake City, do not let them know you are from Missouri, for I tell
you that many of those from that State will never see California. You
know they were driven from Missouri, and will get revenge if they can."
Both the surgeon and the captain said the stream came out on the Pacific
Coast and that we had no obstacles except cataracts, which they had
heard were pretty bad. I then went to Dallas and told him what we
proposed doing and to our surprise he did not offer any objections, and
offered me $60 for my pony. He said he would sell us some flour and
bacon for provisions also.

We helped them in crossing the river, which was somewhat difficult,
being swift, with boulders in the bottom but we got all safely over and
then made the trade we had spoken of. Dallas paid me for my pony and we
took what flour and bacon he would let go. He gave us some ropes for
head and stern lines to our boat and a couple of axes, and we laid
these, and our provisions in a pile by the roadside. Six of us then gave
up our whips. Mr. S. McMahon, a driver, hesitated for some time, but
being pressed by Dallas for a decision, at last threw down his whip and
said:--"I will go with the boys." This left Dallas with only one driver,
but he took a whip himself, and with the aid of the children and his
wife who drove the two-horse wagon, they got along very well. I paid for
such provisions as we had taken, as the rest of the fellows had almost
no money.

So we parted company, the little train slowly moving on its way
westward. Our military captain, the soldier boys, and the gay young lady
taking the route to Oregon, and we sitting on the bank of the river
whose waters flowed to the great Pacific. Each company wished the other
good luck, we took a few long breaths and then set to work in earnest to
carry out our plans.

CHAPTER VIII.

About the first thing we did was to organize and select a captain, and,
very much against my wishes, I was chosen to this important position.
Six of us had guns of some sort, Richard Field, Dallas's cook, was not
armed at all. We had one regular axe and a large camp hatchet, which was
about the same as an axe, and several very small hatchets owned by the
men. All our worldly goods were piled up on the bank, and we were alone.

An examination of the old ferry boat showed it to be in pretty good
condition, the sand with which it had been filled keeping it very
perfectly. We found two oars in the sand under the boat, and looked up
some poles to assist us in navigation. Our cordage was rather scant but
the best we could get and all we could muster. The boat was about twelve
feet long and six or seven feet wide, not a very well proportioned
craft, but having the ability to carry a pretty good load. We swung it
up to the bank and loaded up our goods and then ourselves. It was not a
heavy load for the craft, and it looked as if we were taking the most
sensible way to get to the Pacific, and almost wondered that everybody
was so blind as not to see it as we did.

This party was composed of W.L. Manley, M.S. McMahon, Charles and Joseph
Hazelrig, Richard Field, Alfred Walton and John Rogers. We untied the
ropes, gave the boat a push and commenced to move down the river with
ease and comfort, feeling much happier than we would had we been going
toward Salt Lake with the prospect of wintering there.

At the mouth of Ham's Fork we passed a camp of Indians, but we kept
close to the opposite shore to avoid being boarded by them. They
beckoned very urgently for us to come ashore, but I acted as if I did
not understand them, and gave them the go-by.

As we were floating down the rapid stream it became more and more a
rapid, roaring river, and the bed contained many dangerous rocks that
were difficult to shun. Each of us had a setting-pole, and we ranged
ourselves along the sides of the boat and tried to keep ourselves clear
from the rocks and dangers. The water was not very deep and made such a
dashing noise as the current rushed among the rocks that one had to talk
pretty loud to be heard. As we were gliding along quite swiftly, I set
my pole on the bottom and gave the boat a sudden push to avoid a
boulder, when the pole stuck in the crevice between two rocks, and
instead of losing the pole by the sudden jerk I gave, I was the one who
was very suddenly yanked from the boat by the spring of the pole, and
landed in the middle of the river. I struck pretty squarely on my back,
and so got thoroughly wet, but swam for shore amid the shouts of the
boys, who waved their hats and hurrahed for the captain when they saw he
was not hurt. I told them that was nothing as we were on our way to
California by water any way, and such things must be expected.

The next day after this I went on shore and sighted a couple of
antelope, one of which I shot, which gave us good grub, and good
appetites we already had. As near as we could estimate we floated about
thirty miles a day, which beat the pace of tired oxen considerably. In
one place there was a fringe of thick willows along the bank, and a
little farther back a perpendicular bluff, while between the two was a
strip of fine green grass. As we were passing this we scared up a band
of elk in this grass meadow, and they all took a run down the river like
a band of horses. One of them turned up a small ravine with walls so
steep he could not get out, so we posted a guard at the entrance, and
three of us went up the canon after him, and after the others had each
fired a shot, I fired the third and brought him down. This was about the
finest piece of Rocky Mountain beef that one could see. We took the
carcass on board and floated on again.

Thus far we had a very pleasant time, each taking his turn in working
the boat while the others rested or slept. About the fifth day when we
were floating along in very gently running water, I had lay down to take
a rest and a little sleep. The mountains here on both sides of the river
were not very steep, but ran gradually for a mile or so. While I was
sleeping the boat came around a small angle in the stream, and all at
once there seemed to be a higher, steeper range of mountains right
across the valley. The boys thought the river was coming to a rather
sudden end and hastily awoke me, and for the life of me I could not say
they were not right, for there was no way in sight for it to go to. I
remembered while looking over a map the military men had I found a place
named Brown's Hole, and I told the boys I guessed we were elected to go
on foot to California after all, for I did not propose to follow the
river down any sort of a hole into any mountain. We were floating
directly toward a perpendicular cliff, and I could not see any hole any
where, nor any other place where it could go. Just as we were within a
stone's throw of the cliff, the river turned sharply to the right and
went behind a high point of the mountain that seemed to stand squarely
on edge. This was really an immense crack or crevice, certainly 2000
feet deep and perhaps much more, and seemed much wider at the bottom
than it did at the top, 2000 feet or more above our heads. Each wall
seemed to lean in toward the water as it rose.

We were now for some time between two rocky walls between which the
river ran very rapidly, and we often had to get out and work our boat
over the rocks, sometimes lifting it off when it caught. Fortunately we
had a good tow line, and one would take this and follow along the edge
when it was so he could walk. The mountains seemed to get higher and
higher on both sides as we advanced, and in places we could see quite a
number of trees overhanging the river, and away up on the rocks we could
see the wild mountain sheep looking down at us. They were so high that
they seemed a mile away, and consequently safe enough. This was their
home, and they seemed very independent, as if they dared us fellows to
come and see them. There was an old cottonwood tree on bank with marks
of an axe on it, but this was all the sign we saw that any one had ever
been here before us. We got no game while passing through this deep
canon and began to feel the need of some fresh provisions very sorely.

We passed many deep, dark canons coming into the main stream, and at one
place, where the rock hung a little over the river and had a smooth
wall, I climbed up above the high water mark which we could clearly see,
and with a mixture of gunpowder and grease for paint, and a bit of cloth
tied to a stick for a brush, I painted in fair sized letters on the
rock, CAPT. W.L. MANLEY, U.S.A. We did not know whether we were within
the bounds of the United States or not, and we put on all the majesty we
could under the circumstances. I don't think the sun ever shone down to
the bottom of the canon, for the sides were literally sky-high, for the
sky, and a very small portion of that was all we could see.

Just before night we came to a place where some huge rocks as large as
cabins had fallen down from the mountain, completely filling up the
river bed, and making it completely impassible for our boat. We unloaded
it and while the boys held the stern line, I took off my clothes and
pushed the boat out into the torrent which ran around the rocks, letting
them pay the line out slowly till it was just right. Then I sang out
to--"Let go"--and away it dashed. I grasped the bow line, and at the
first chance jumped overboard and got to shore, when I held the boat and
brought it in below the obstructions. There was some deep water below
the rocks; and we went into camp. While some loaded the boat, others
with a hook and line caught some good fish, which resembled mackerel.

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