LITMIR.BIZ

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with which the fight had to be made. The boys dismounted and as the Indians came within easy view of them they stepped out in front of their horses and waited. The men with the guns held them in position to fire and Gibson drew his bowie knife and held it steadily in his hand. The Indians came on furiously, screaming and yelling, but the boys did not stir a step. The plan was to let them come and get as many of them as possible with the four loads that were in the guns, then with the knife and the guns as clubs, fight it out.

      The boys said that for two or three minutes there was every indication that the Indians really meant to fight. They showed no disposition to halt, but came yelling and dashing forward until they were almost in range of the guns. Even though the boys were not equal to the task they had to keep their nerve. If they had shown the least disposition to waver or to change positions the Indians would have been encouraged to come upon them. They stood as firm and steady as though they were made of stone. Not a word was spoken, except that Bob Gilmore quietly counselled the boys to stand perfectly still. This attitude was too much for the Indians. They became convinced that they really had a fight on their hands, and when within seventy-five yards they came to a sudden halt and all danger was past. The bluff had worked and the Indians were going to pretend they never had any hostile intentions. The boys continued to stand perfectly firm and wait. After a moment or two, three or four Indians came forward bowing, making every demonstration of friendship, saying, "How, How," and asking for tobacco. Gibson in return bowed to them and said "How, How." He also indicated they could have tobacco if they would approach, but the Gilmores kept their guns steadily raised in the same position. When within twenty or thirty feet, the Indians stopped and Gibson approached a little nearer to them and put on an appearance of great friendship. He had no tobacco, but the Gilmores had, so Gibson went back for it, the others remaining in position to fire, and took it from their pockets. The Indians then bowed and the boys bowed and the Indians turned and went back to their companions. The four emissaries who had come out for the tobacco mounted their ponies and the whole thirty of them rode away. The boys kept their positions until the Indians were far out on the plain. They could see them as they rode away, turn on their ponies and watch them, and they proposed to give them to understand that there was a fight ready for them if they desired it, and thus probably prevent an attack farther on in their journey to camp and after night.

      When the Indians were well out of the way, the party journeyed on. It was then nearly sundown and fifteen miles to camp. The boys had taken note of the natural objects along the road out, and before it grew entirely dark they located these objects with reference to certain stars that would lead them after night, and in this way managed to get along until they came to where they could see the reflection of the burning sage brush upon the sky. We were greatly rejoiced to see them, and even though they did not bring the cattle back, we felt after our hours of anxiety that the loss of the cattle was but a trivial matter.

      A few days' drive after our encounter with the Indians brought us to Big Meadow, a name given to a sort of oasis which was covered with abundant grass and where our cattle could get the finest water. We took a good rest here and it was a delight to see the cattle and horses, after their long drive over the sand and through the sage brush, wade belly deep in the finest of grass. During our stay at this place we cut and cured a large quantity of hay and loaded it on our wagons. We had heard that there was a desert ahead and wanted to be prepared for it. We must have spent four or five days at this place, and when we set forward both men and cattle were much refreshed. A day's journey, as I remember, brought us to the lower end of Humboldt Lake, where, so far as we could see, Humboldt River stopped, that is the river ran into this lake and there was apparently no outlet. We could see a barren country ahead, and rightly judged that we were approaching the desert we had heard of.

      Next morning everything was prepared for a long drive without grazing or water. We left early and all day long traveled over a hot, dry plain without once finding a drop of water, and where there was no vegetation upon which our cattle could feed. When night came a conference was held. To attempt to camp in that arid place without food or water would weaken our stock and exhaust our men, so we decided not to camp at all. Accordingly the weary oxen and horses were pushed on at increased speed. We traveled all night long and when daylight came there was still no prospect of relief. To stop, however, was more likely to bring disaster than to go on, so we kept moving. About noon we began to see some evidences of a change. Off in the distance we thought we could see that the land had a green appearance, and this raised our hopes. On nearer approach we found that our first impressions were correct and that we were really approaching food and water. In a little while we came to a prong of what I learned afterwards was Carson River, which came down from the mountains and ran in an opposite direction from the Humboldt River. The water was clear and had hardly a tinge of alkali in it. When our cattle and horses saw the water, we could not hold them and we did not try very much, for we were almost as nearly famished as they. We took the yokes off of them and let them go. They ran pell-mell down to the water and plunged into it. The men did scarcely better. Many of them jumped right into the water with their clothes on and drank and splashed by turns until they had slaked their thirst and relieved their parched throats. As soon as food could be prepared, and eaten, everybody went to sleep except those who were detailed to stand guard the first two hours. We remained there, the guard being relieved every two hours, until the following morning, when both men and cattle were sufficiently refreshed to proceed.

      Thenceforward our journey led us up Carson River. This was not a hard journey. The grass was fine and the water clear. There was no occasion for hurry. It was then growing toward the end of July and the worst of our journey was over.

      We moved only fifteen or twenty miles a day and allowed our cattle and horses to browse along and fill themselves as they went. Nearly a hundred miles up the river we came to Carson Valley, where Carson City is now situated. As I recall my whole journey, I can think of no place that so impressed me with its beauty. Six miles across this valley, we came to the mouth of Carson River Canyon where the river flows out of the mountain. Six miles farther on and after crossing the river a dozen times or more, we passed out of the canyon and found ourselves at the foot of what we named "The Two-Mile Mountain." This mountain had to be climbed. It was so steep that ten yoke of oxen were required to draw each wagon up. This made slow work, as some of the wagons had to be left at the bottom and the oxen brought back to get them. After reaching the top, we journeyed on and came to Red Lake. This was a beautiful body of water. I am not sure whether it is what is now called Lake Tahoe or not, though I feel sure it is. After passing beyond this lake, we came to the "Six-Mile Mountain." This was not so steep as the "Two-Mile Mountain," but it was a much longer pull. As we approached the top we came to snow. This was the 5th day of August, 1849. Before we reached the very crest of the range our oxen had to pass over great drifts of frozen snow which, for all we knew, may have been hundreds of feet deep. At the top of the mountain we were on the crest of the Sierra Nevada Range, and it was a great relief to start down hill. One of the men went forward and picked out a route and twelve miles down the mountain we came to Rock Creek. Beyond this we encountered a descent which was almost as abrupt as our descent into Bear River Valley, but in the present place, we had plenty of timber, so we cut large trees and tied them by chains to the rear of the wagons and allowed them to drag behind. This put a very effective brake upon the wagons and enabled them to go down safely.

      I remember an occurrence which took place shortly before we made this descent. Our road led along the edge of a steep declivity which seemed to be a thousand feet above the valley below. Mitch Hulett and I found it great sport to roll rocks off this precipice and watch them bound away down along the mountain-side. Sometimes we would pry a rock loose that would weigh two or three tons and watch it plunge down, tearing through the timber with frightful noise, scaring grouse, pheasants and wild animals out of the brush in great numbers. Some of the huge rocks would occasionally strike a jutting portion of the mountain and bound a hundred yards downward without striking a single obstruction. We had not noticed the lapse of time and the train got far ahead of us. By and by, we heard a great noise to the rear and in another moment a band of Indians dashed around a curve in the road and were right upon us. There was nothing we could do but run. The road ahead was down hill, and I have always thought we made a pretty good job of it. We broke away at full speed, never stopping to look back, and expecting every moment to feel the arrows in our backs or to see or hear them whiz past us. Every step gave us hope, and

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