---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Kenner, S. A.
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 4
number: 7
published: 1901-05
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'S. A. Kenner, "Indian Episode of Early Days," *Improvement Era* 4, no. 7 (May 1901): 484–491.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0407unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera0407unse
start_page: 484
end_page: 491
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1901-05)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0407unse
  publication_year: 1901
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1901, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# Indian Episode of Early Days

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INDIAN EPISODE OF EARLY DAYS.
                           BY S. A. KENNER.




     In the year of our Lord 1868, the writer was-a telegraph opera-
tor in the town of Beaver.   The Deseret line had been completed sev-
eral months before, and the people were now getting so accustomed
to it that they no longer visited the office out of curiosity, and very
seldom for any other purpose, and there was a perceptible shrink-
age in the consequence which formerly hedged about the youth in
charge, rendering the post much less attractive than was its wont;
these circumstances, in connection with the other, that money was
seldom passed, that the roughness and unconventional ways of the
early days were still measurably in vogue, that the business had
become tedious and monotonous, while the boy himself was disposed
to be active and restless, and, above all, that Salt Lake was too
far away, caused him to hand in his resignation and depart.   Re-
placing an operator in those days in out-of-the-way places was no
easy matter, and, in order to be straightforward in the premises,
the writer had, for about three months prior to his departure, had
in training in the art of telegraphy a couple of young and capable
men to take his place. These were "coached", and received practi-
cal training, the field of their practice gradually expanding until final-
ly between them they could handle the limited business of the office

very well.   One of these (William Ashworth) became a regular
operator and afterwards occupied a much more responsible station.
All this, however, is but preliminary and incidental.        The central
fact is that I got out, and so much of interest as the story con-
tains is embraced in what follows.
     By engaging persistently, and at times painfully, (because of

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INDIAN EPISODE OF EARLY DAYS.                        485

lacking skill) in the principal means of effecting exchanges in those
days, I had become the proud possessor of a pony, a saddle, bridle
and revolver.    Having an uncle, an aunt and several cousins in the
"Dixie" country who had not been seen for some time, it was de-
cided to pay them a visit.     Advice was freely given that it was a
foolish thing to     make such a     trip   alone, as the Indians   were
marauding and murdering at various points in Southern Utah, San-
pete and Iron counties (the latter of which would have to be passed
through going to Dixie) being the principal sufferers. The line be-
tween Beaver and Iron counties is about the central part of a
range of low-lying mountains running due east and west, and the
lowest part of these is where the state and county road runs. This
is   known as the pass, and a more fitting place for an Indian attack
could not have been chosen even by old Blackhawk himself.             In
order to take up as much of the acclivity as possible, the road is
exceedingly tortuous, with little knobs or peaks continually. inter-
vening, so that in places, the path can be seen but for a short dis-
tance ahead, while on all sides are tolerably dense growths of cedar
and pifion pine trees.     When one is alone, it is about the lone-
somest place in the world.      At any point for a distance of several
miles, shots could be fired at a traveler from a hundred different
places and not one of the assailants be seen.      But the advice given,
which was almost identical with that which the old man imparted
to the youth in the poem "Excelsior," to try not the pass,      was re-
ceived in the same way, and the journey set out upon.
       Did the reader ever try anything of that kind ?     If so, he will

of course remember that his high spirits are only maintained at a
heroic altitude while surrounded by civilization; with this behind
him, with a landscape presenting about the same features which it
bore when the great upheaval subsided, and a solitude so profound
that the smallest bird is a welcome visitation, all this before him,
with dangers all the more pressing because unseen and unknown
all   about him, his courage is likely to subside in an inverse ratio to
the progress made, so that, by the time the mid-point between the
safety place behind and the safety place ahead is reached, all showy
and boastful forms of self-reliance have entirely evaporated.        The
individual at last realizes that at any point in life, and particularly
the one he happens just then to be occupying, he is a creature of

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486                   IMPROVEMENT ERA.

circumstances with no more relative strength at one time than an-
other; and without the protecting care of a Providence which is
too often unthought of until actually needed, he is not of much con-
sequence anyway.
      The southern side of the pass is much shorter than the other;
in fact, it is not to exceed a mile's span, while the other is four or
five miles; so that when the apex is passed, the time spent in reach-

ing the open country again is brief.     But what availeth it to reach
the open at such times?    There   is   still   nothing in sight but bar-
renness, flanked by ridges with dense growths of trees impenetrable
for any distance to the eye, and traversed all along by gullies which
are usually dry, but, by reason of rainfalls and melting snows, have
been cut deep into the porous soil.     The chances for attack from a
concealed or an unconcealed foe were not one whit lessened despite
the broader range of view, while the all-pervading solitude lent to
each darkened brush and half-hidden stump an awful, soul-sadden-
ing feeling.   But, as one of these mystical terrors after another
dissolved in the view of closer inspection, something akin to re-
turning boldness was experienced by reason thereof.          We have all
been there.    After our fears are shown to be groundless, we are
slower to be frightened by the same things again.            This condi-
tion long enough continued    would build us up to the same pin-
nacle of vainglorious self-sufficiency with which we set out on our
expeditions in life, and from which we are at times, as in my case,
so unceremoniously toppled.    Then we see how it is that man con-
tinually needs admonishment, example and discipline to be kept in
the straight and narrow path, and is apt to depart from it as soon
as the corrective agencies are withdrawn.
      An old and homely backwoods maxim is to refrain from "hol-
lering" till you are out of the woods, and this is deserving of a
much wider application than it has received. When we think the
crisis passed, we are sometimes just upon the verge of it.  Think-
ing all obstacles are overcome, we care not for the greatest of all
which may be lying in wait for us. It was so with me on the oc-
casion spoken of.    My perplexed fancy had become so relaxed
that I was mentally ridiculing myself for being so easily shaken,
when from a ravine to the south, I saw a cloud of dust arising and
spreading.  The first impulse was naturally one of curiosity, this

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INDIAN EPISODE OF EARLY DAYS.                         487

being succeeded at once by something a         little more disturbing to

the nervous system.       Was the appearance caused by a band         of
sheep or cattle, or was the dust raised by a draft of air caused
by the shape of the fissure?     Like the cloud no bigger than a man's
hand, of which     we have    read,   this   one grew apace and came
nearer.    My heart beat with greatly increased rapidity for a mo-
ment, and then seemed to suspend operations altogether, as from
the jaws of the defile, half a mile off, emerged, with a dash, a band
of mounted Indians   !   The poverty of the English language, even to
a master of it, would be strikingly shown, were he to attempt to
place in words a full showing of the things thought, the feelings felt,
and the nothingness done by the writer of these lines at that time!
And even in the midst of this orgie of^desperation, when reason
was measurably suspended, there>at once ensued as one of the con-
tradictions with which the psychical sometimes confronts the physio-
logical existence,   a greater degree of judgment than ordinarily
obtains.   In such cases, especially when the means of doing so are
at hand, the first impulse is to seek safety in flight, but that would
have been as fatal a thing to do as to have placed myself in battle
array and begun firing upon the Indians.    The wisdom which the
supreme court is supposed to have at all times, comes to the hum-
blest of people, as a flash of superior intelligence, sometimes, and
so it was then.

             Distilled almost to jelly with the act of fear,

as Shakespeare writes it, I was yet impelled to assume a boldness
which nature, for some reason or other, had neglected to place
among my physical effects.       The band were upon me in an instant,
gibbering, jangling and discordant; they halted in front of me, instead
of surrounding me, as I expected they would do, and, seeing that I
was (apparently) as cool as a cucumber, they went to "sizing me up"
in Indian style before saying anything.  This didn't take long, and
then one who seemed to be the leader said:
     "Where oo go?"
     With a mighty effort I said with seeming tranquility
     "Oh, just below here, to see the folks."
     "Huh!     Where oo live?"
     "Oh, just back here in Beaver."

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488                    IMPROVEMENT ERA.

        "Huh!   You fight 'em Injin?"
        "No, never fight any Indians at all."
        "Huh! You 'Mo'mon?'"
        "You bet your life!"
        They all looked me over carefully once more, and then, after
  a little chattering among themselves, passed me by and sped along
                 they were going when the interview began. I
  in the direction
  made the pony jog along indifferently until the savages were well
  out of sight, and then the whole situation changed.             I   had never
 ridden    much on a horse, lately not at all, and would gladly under
  ordinary circumstances have dismounted and walked awhile, but
 not now.  If the poor animal had made his pace equal to the

 mighty dash of a limited express train, had he been the modern
 bucephalus with a speed many times multiplied, if he had been a
 Pegasus in real life able to fly as well as run, he would at such a
 time have seemed a huge, crippled snail, half asleep. He must
  have made at least twelve miles an hour, but oh, how stationary
  the landmarks on either side of the road did seem!         And how very
  tired I was, yet how splendidly was the weariness kept in subjection!
  What a luxury would have been a walk of a mile or so!
        At this point, a little moralizing is permissible. Almost every
  event in life, beyond the common, furnishes materials for this, and,
 if   our philosophy would only enable us to find    it    out,       much real
 profit might be realized   from apparently unprofitable and seem-
  ingly unfortunate incidents.   The greatest of lawgivers and pro-
  tectors has admonished us not to despise the small things of life;
  the fact that the giant oak grows from the tiny acorn, and the
  mighty ocean maintains its bulk by trickling tributaries, shows in
  some measure the wisdom and justice of the admonition. Now,
  had I been a "plumed knight," a "whiskered pandoor" or a "fierce
  hussar," the chances are decidedly that I would have been taken
"^into captivity or sent beyond the reach thereof, and my little prop-
 erty have been converted to the use of the "noble scions of the
 forest," without due process of law.     But it seem3 that even they
 have some appreciation of the      fitness   of things.     Being a non-
 combatant, very young, correspondingly tender, and without the
 slightest trace of aggressiveness or resistance, the red             men con-
 cluded that the "game would not be worth the candle," and as

<!-- page:489 -->

INDIAN EPISODE OF EARL Y DA YS.                                       489

each of them had a horse and equipment worth a good deal more
than mine, they didn't care to burden themselves with the latter,
especially as the animal was tired, hungry         and     thin, and his trap-

pings were old, uncertain, and far from gaudy.
        "Some people are born great, others achieve greatness, and
others still have greatness thrust upon them." There should be added
to this that sometimes the greatness fits and sometimes it doesn't.
Now and then, it is a means of protection or exemption from con-
sequences by reason of the respect or awe which              it    inspires; but
occasionally, it is a lightning rod       which deflects the destroying
fluid   from the path it would otherwise pursue, and brings the
whole volume upon itself.   It may not be destroyed by the visita-

tion, neither is it benefited, and       anything in the world              is    much
safer when bolts of lightning give it the go-by and pounce upon
something else.      We find that the loftiest trees in a grove, the
highest poles in a town, and the tallest man in a group, if                      all   are
possessed of equal attractiveness, will nearly every time be the
recipient of the electric fluid when it descends upon their immedi-
ate locality.      "Death loves a shining mark," but its agents                         in
the shape of aerial electricity, and hostile red men, are not so
particular about the shining,       if   the object only has some other
qualifications, chief   among which is prominence.                Lacking that,
there    is   sometimes (but not always) safety.           There was in                my
case, and for a few hours at least,        I   would not have traded sta-
tions with the Prince of Wales, the President of the United States,
nor even the conductor of any street car on which                  I    have ever
traveled, and nothing could emphasize the desperateness of the
situation more than that.        All these thoughts, and a             good many
more, occurred to me as I sped along, the mental exercises being
interspersed with occasional glances over my shoulder and urging
the faithful beast to    still   greater effort.        Of course,      I   realized
that the Indians I had encountered were not all there were in the
country, and one interview like the last one, in the course of a
day, or a lifetime for that matter, was quite ample.              But there was
no further interruption. After a long, needful rest at Paragoonah,
the "great moral ride," as it has been called, was resumed, and
Parowan reached       in safety.    This town      is    and was generally a
quiet, pastoral place, not increasing much in population, nor at all

<!-- page:490 -->

490                      IMPROVEMENT ERA.

given to indulgence in the spectacular or the sensational, but        it

was different on this occasion.   The Indian situation was acting
like    an effervescing agency, and everybody was visible, and all
were active, a condition of things which increased rather than
diminished as time went along. The red men were stealing stock
continually, and were ready to fight whenever opposition appeared.
Military preparations, on as large a scale as the means at hand
would admit of, were being made, and the day after my arrival as
strong a detachment as was considered proper (the safety of the
town as well as effective operations in the field being duly regarded)
went out under experienced leaders, all mounted, of course. Not
being, by this time, in so much of a hurry as when      I   left Beaver,
it   was thought advisable to lay over for a while.     At such times
and in such places, all hands must "stand in," and generally they
do so with alacrity if not with cheerfulness. To me was assigned a
position as one of the night guard, the duties being to take a post a
little beyond   the outer fringe of houses, keep a sharp lookout for
suspicious indications, and give the alarm if necessary. There
were several of us out at a time, and we were stationed two or
three hundred yards apart. There had been fighting a few miles
away, during the afternoon, the shots being distinctly heard in the
town,    and the necessity for the most extreme vigilance was
realized by all.    Nobody but the children   slept.   In front of   my
post, about fifty yards away, was a dense     growth of scrub oak, or
some similar vegetation, and a good-sized army, by exercising cau-
tion, could have approached     near enough for effective operations
without being seen or heard.      This circumstance had a very stim-
ulating, agreeable effect upon me, and occasionally, as the ragged,
fleeting clouds passed from the face of the moon and left her smil-
ing as brightly and beautifully as though in ignorance of what
was going on below, it occurred to me how pleasant it would be to
be translated all at once to her peaceful, Indianless realm
    Occasionally, a slight noise from the thicket would dispel all
musings and imaginings, and was the means of accomplishing what
I was afraid would take place by other agencies    —the raising of my
hair.    And, as on the day previous, these figments of the fancy were
hurriedly, abruptly,    excruciatingly crystalized into a hard, con-
crete    realization.   There was a sound this time!        No mistake

<!-- page:491 -->

INDIAN EPISODE OF EARLY DAYS.                            491


about it   —would, oh would that there were! Another, and nearer,
its awful    realness impinging      upon   my sense of hearing with a
forceful, fateful thud   !                     my revolver, because it had
                             I did not reach for

never been out of my hand for an instant, a kind of false security
being felt by reason of its presence.         There was another noise   —
footstep, unmistakably, and close to the margin of the thicket.          It
was time to prepare for action. One step more, and, in accordance
with instructions, I called out with as much distinctness and vehe-
mence as circumstances would permit
    "Who's there?"
     No reply.
     Again: "Who's there?"
     Dread silence, most awful, prevailed.            On the next putting
of that terrible question, with no reply following, I was to shoot in
the direction of the noise and then act as judgment (or the total
suspension thereof) suggested.          The fateful words were about to
find expression when the thicket parted, and there         emerged into
the open   —a cow!
     The moon smiled (apparently), the scurrying clouds pursued
their aimless, flecky way, the light breezes chanted amid the
tangled shrubbery a miserere for the dying day, the kine trudged
unmolested to her lair, and "left the world to darkness and to me."
