An Episode of the Plains

An Episode of the Plains A Thrilling Experience of Pioneer Life

By John R. Young, a Pioneer of 1847, author of "Memoirs of John R. Young"

In 1862, I was living in southern Utah. It was believed the "Mormon" immigration would be unusually heavy that year, hence great exertions were put forth by the people to bring the season's gathering to a successful termination; co-operation was the power that, under the wise guidance of Brigham Young, made it possible to build up a prosperous commonwealth in the isolated desert. Teams were raised in all parts of the territory and organized into companies of 50 wagons each, four yoke of cattle to each wagon. These, under the care of an experienced — — man, were sent to the Missouri river 1400 miles to haul back the luggage of the emigrants; the people were required to walk. Rules of government were established in each camp, and firmly carried out; no swearing was allowed. All assembled for prayers at the call of the chaplain, morn- ing and night; at 9 o'clock all retired to rest; and at 5 o'clock all arose. These camps were practical training schools of great value. It fell to my lot to drive a team in Captain John R. Mur- dock's train. Upon arriving at Omaha I was selected to take charge of an independent company, people who had means to emigrate themselves to Utah. On the 8th of August, I com- menced the task, (mission we called it, for we all served with- out pay) of leading these people, who were Danes, from Omaha to Salt Lake City. When it is remembered that these people spoke a language that I did not understand, that they were not accustomed to driving teams, that I had to teach them even how to yoke their cattle and hitch them to their wagons, it will be easy to imagine the magnitude of the task I had undertaken to perform. For the first week we only made from five to ten miles a day, but at the end of two weeks we could make twenty-five. At Wood River Centre, the western line of civilization and the last telegraph station I received a dispatch from our immigration agent telling me that the Sioux were on the war path, and I must be careful, and watchful, or they would run off our stock. And as a word of encouragement, he added that Captain P- would overtake me in a few days, and would give me four men to aid me as scouts and night-guards, lhus mounted Utah

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cheered I pushed boldly out into the hunting grounds of the Sioux; but day after day passed and Captain P did not overtake me. At last I reached Ash Hollow where there was a stockade and five Utah men guarding supplies left by down- going trains. Leaving Ash Hollow early the next morning we made a drive of 25 miles across the Big Bend of the Platte. In the evening a squad of U. S. troops camped on the opposite side of the river, and holloed across to us to look out, for the "Devil was let loose." In the morning they were gone, and when we brought up our cattle one of our best oxen was missing. It belonged to a Swede who had a light wagon, and only one yoke of oxen. Se- lecting a large cow from the herd, I yoked her in and started the train in charge of the interpreter. I then circled the night herd ground; and, being a good trailer, I soon found the oxen's tracks, in the road going back, and caught him at Ash Hollow 25 miles from camp. Giving my horse a feed of grain and taking lunch with the man, I started with the ox to overtake my train, The long, weary day passed, the sun was near setting, and I had just passed the night camp-ground I had left in the morning, when a small cloud of dust coming from the foot-hills attracted my attention. Just as I was entering a deep gorge, I drove the ox into the wash, then turned back up the hill, until I could see the dust again. With the aid of my telescope I could see four Indians rapidly driving a herd of horses toward a patch of timber on the river. A careful inspection convinced me that the loose animals were American horses, and I soon recognized them as Captain P's. It now flashed through my mind why he had not overtaken me, the Indians had stolen his horses and crippled his movements. Well, there I was twenty miles from camp, alone, with no weapon but my revolver, and almost face to face with the rob- bers who had stolen my friend's horses. I stood and watched until they reached the timber. Selecting a large tree for a camping place, they threw down their traps, and three of them bunched the horses while the fourth caught and hobbled them. Then they cut poles and started down the river evidently to catch fish for their supper. I saw that the aroya that I was in emptied into the river near their camp, and knowing that the moon would not rise until a few minutes after dark, I instantly formed a plan, and went to work to put it into execution. I was adverse to shedding blood, having always been taught to avoid it, except in self-defense. I resolved to start the horses, and, then if followed I would fight. Leaving the ox I moved cautious- ly down the ravine, and reached the mouth of it just as the gloom of night settled over the plain. The Indians had returned

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and built a large fire, one of them walked out and bunched the horses; and their movements attracted the attention of my mare; she threw up her head and started to neigh. I gave the bit a jerk in time to check her; but the movement slight as it was, showed me how dangerous was the enterprise I had under- taken. The Indian soon returned to camp and threw some more wood on the fire, which in the still night flamed high in the air, rendering objects visible for some distance round and greatly assisted my movements. I felt that now was my time to act. Ap- proaching carefully the outer circle of horses, and dropping my bridle rein, I moved quietly from horse to horse cutting their hobbles; then, regaining my own horse, moved the band slowly until they found they were unfettered, when I leaped into my saddle and started them on a run. The wild yell that rang out on the night air curdled my blood and made my hair stand on end, and for a moment I was quite unnerved, but soon recov- ered and lashed the horses at a wild rate across the plain. By the time I reached the ox, the moon had risen, and it seemed as light as day. I drove the horses and ox across the gully, and then wheeled back and stood in the darkness at the bottom of it waiting for my pursuers. Soon the pattering of feet reached my ears, and holding my breath until two dark forms came into view, I opened fire. The quick somersault, and rapid retreat, convinced me that Mr. Indian had been twice surprised by the white man. Emptying my revolver to give the idea that there were several of us I sent the stock hurrying toward my camp. The road was tolerably straight and free from hills, and hollows, so I was not much afraid of being ambushed, yet was keenly alert. The fluttering of a bird, or starting of a hare would startle me. But, as several hours passed without interruption, I con- cluded that my shots had taken effect, at least so far as to dis- courage the Indians from following me. But I was suddenly aroused from this feeling of security by another danger I had not counted on. It was the low, distant howl of a wolf! Soon an answer came, then another, and another! I smiled, for I had a contempt for the whole wolf tribe, believing them to be cun- ning and cruel, but cowardly. I turned the cylinder of my pistol to see if it was properly reloaded, and finding it all right, calmly awaited the gathering of the howling pack. With lolling tongues and fiery, hungry eyes they came galloping up, falling into small groups, snapping, snarling and fighting. I hesitated to shoot for fear the smell of blood would whet their ferocious appetites. My hesitation ceased as a large, grey wolf trotted up to my side and crouched to spring at me, instantly I put a bullet through his shoulder, he fell backwards with a yell, and