Ocean to Ocean on Horseback

My mustang proved tractable and made excellent time; and having obtained in Omaha all the information within my reach concerning the remaining half of my journey, I determined to use all despatch and avoid as far as I could the cold weather of the Rockies and Sierras.

I may here state that in consequence of the long rides I was now compelled to make, with very few stoppages except at night, the original plan of the journey was somewhat changed, and my journal necessarily fell into disuse; my chief object being to get over the mountains as quickly as possible. I was, therefore, unable during the remainder of my ride to refer so much to daily incidents, but confined myself to jotting down in a general way whatever I thought might prove of interest to the reader.

Over the Great Plains that lie between the Missouri and the Rockies my nerve was thoroughly tested, and not less so the mettle of my mustang which carried me a distance of five hundred and twenty-two miles in six days. Halts at this time were few and far between, except for necessary food and sleep. The weather had become very cold since leaving Omaha, and the ascent had been gradual but continuous.

The surface of Nebraska is extremely varied. There are no elevations that can be dignified with the name of mountains, but in its northern and western parts there are lofty hills. Along the Niobrara and White Rivers, extending into Dakota, there are sand-hills with a very scanty vegetation and very difficult to traverse on account of the loose sand. The gently rolling lands of three-fourths of Nebraska appear very much like the suddenly petrified waves and billows of the ocean. Minerals had not yet been found to any considerable extent, and the scarcity of coal rendered more valuable the extensive beds of peat found in some parts of the State. The salt basins of Nebraska are rich and extensive. The principal one is located in Lancaster County, covering an area of twelve by twenty-five miles. Fossil remains, of great interest to geologists, have been discovered in great quantities. Indian hieroglyphics, which ante-date the traditions of all living tribes, are cut deep in the bluffs along the Missouri River, in places now inaccessible.

The Platte or Nebraska River, from which the Territory received its name, is a broad and shallow stream. It is claimed that there is not a foot of land in Eastern Nebraska that is not susceptible of cultivation. High winds sweep over the plains, and the storms are sometimes of terrible severity. The climate is dry and exhilarating, and the nights generally cool throughout the summer. There is no part of the United States better adapted for stock-raising than the prairies of Nebraska.

There is a well-equipped university at Lincoln, a normal school for the training of teachers and an institution for the blind at Nebraska City.

After a fifty miles' ride from Omaha a halt was made at the Sherman House, Fremont, Dodge County, for supper and lodging. The journey had been pleasant and the landscape charming in its quiet beauty. The south wind was neither too warm nor too cold for perfect comfort, and my mustang looked as if he could carry me another fifty miles without any inconvenience to himself.

Fremont had a population of nearly 3,000, and has a large trade in grain, cotton and lumber. It has a court house, a high school, three banks and four newspapers.

Left early the following morning and at night slept in a wigwam with Pawnee Indians, in the absence of other shelter, and they gave me of their best. At Lone Tree, a post office in Nance County, I stopped at the Lone Tree House for the night, and next morning at dawn, the weather being very fine, hurried forward on my journey. Reached Grand Island, where I was accommodated at a private house with bed and board.

Grand Island is in the Great Platte Valley on Platte River, one hundred and fifty-four miles west of Omaha. It stands 1,800 feet above sea level. The Island, on which the town is built, is fifty miles long.

Wood River, my next resting-place, is a township in Hall County with a population not exceeding one thousand. On the following day good headway was made, but I could find no better accommodation for the night than at a Pawnee camp. On the succeeding night, after a hard day's ride, I stopped at Plum Creek, two hundred and thirty miles west of Omaha, and was accommodated at the Plum Creek House. A bridge spans the Platte River at this point. The population was only three hundred, but a weekly paper had been started and was well supported. The next evening, the McPherson House, McPherson, received me and my mustang and treated us hospitably. Then followed North Platte, one hundred and thirty-seven miles from Grand Island, where I lodged for the night at a private house, the home of a pioneer. The repair shops of the Union Pacific Railroad were located here; also a bank and two enterprising newspapers. The population of the township was nearly three thousand. At Sidney, which is a military post, I stopped at the Railroad Hotel. Sheep-farming is a leading industry of Sidney and its vicinity. My last stopping-place in Nebraska was at Evans Ranche, Antelope, a small village on the Elk Horn River.

Crossing the boundary into Wyoming Territory and reaching Cheyenne, I made my entrance into this most interesting region – a great plateau of nearly 100,000 square miles, its lowest level 3,543 feet, its highest altitude more than 13,000 feet above the sea. Some one has said that it seems "a highway, laid out by the 'Great Intelligence,' in the latitude most favorable, at all seasons, for great migrations to the shores of the Pacific."

Shales bearing petroleum, iron, limestone, soda, sulphur, mica, copper, lead, silver and gold, are all there for the taking.

There, volcanoes are still at work.

There, great mountains, great canyons, and great cataracts make the face of Nature sublime.

There, in past centuries, "at some period anterior to the history of existing aboriginal races," lived a mysterious, to us unknown people, traces of whom we still find in neatly finished stratite vessels, "knives, scrapers, and sinkers for fish lines made of volcanic sandstone or of green-veined marble. Such is the tract of territory called Wyoming."

Beginning at the southeast corner of this tract, we encounter, not far from the boundary, a semi-circular range, about 2,000 feet above the general level, known as Laramie Hills. The north branch of the Platte, coming from the south, sweeps in a long curve about it; and just at the base of this Laramie range nestles the so-called "Magic City," Cheyenne, the capital of Wyoming.

White men first explored this region in 1743, and in 1744, when Sieur de la Verendrye and his sons came down from Canada, lured by the then unexplored Rocky Mountains. But the region was fearfully wild. Not only was the face of Nature most strange, but the whole tract was overrun by belligerent savages.

In 1804 a few brave white men began hunting beaver there. But it was many long years before civilization took possession of the spot. Not indeed until mining was begun on the summit of the Rocky Mountains in Dakota.

Then the fact of railroad construction brought great crowds to the North Platte country, crowds composed of two diametrically opposed elements, namely workers and loafers. These two elements joined hands for once, strange as it may seem, and together they settled Cheyenne. They located it near several military posts, and just as close to Denver as they could get it, and still keep it in Wyoming. At Denver was a bank. They wanted to be near that institution, and so came within one hundred and six miles of it. Such were a settler's ideas of propinquity!

Several items contributed to making this young settlement a success. The most important of these items was that, in 1867, the Union Pacific Railroad Company began to locate its shops there. That was rarely fine bait for mechanics. The coal and iron mines in the suburbs proved good bait for miners.

So, from these humble beginnings, Cheyenne came into existence, awoke, bestirred herself, became fired with ambition, and made the summer of 1867 one never to be forgotten in her boundaries.

On July first of that year, the agent of the Union Pacific Railroad erected in Cheyenne the first structure belonging to that company.

In August, the city government was formed, H. M. Hook being chosen mayor.

On September nineteenth, the first issue of the Cheyenne Evening Leader was published.

September twenty-seventh, a meeting was held for the purpose of organizing a county to be called Laramie.

On October eighth, an election was held to vote for a representative to Congress, to elect county officers, and to locate the county-seat. It was decided that every citizen of the United States, who had been in the territory ten days, might vote. One thousand nine hundred votes were cast, and Cheyenne was declared the county-seat.

On October twenty-fifth, telegraphic communication with the East was opened.

November thirteenth, the first passenger train came through from Omaha, and one month later the track was laid to Fort Russell.

About July first of that year, a Mr. Post bought two lots in Cheyenne for six hundred dollars. He then went to Denver on business, stopped to stake out his claim in a coal mine, and returned to find that city real estate had become so inflated in his absence that he was enabled to sell a fractional part of his six hundred dollar lots for five thousand six hundred dollars.

About July first, the Union Pacific Railroad sold lots for one hundred and fifty dollars per lot. A month later, they were worth one thousand dollars apiece, increasing in price at the rate of one thousand dollars per lot each month for some time after.

On July 1, 1867, Cheyenne was simply a little corner of the wilderness.

On January 1, 1868, it was a city of six thousand inhabitants.

Was it not indeed a "Magic City," which could furnish a six months' record like the above?

However, this was but the Quatre Bras before the Waterloo.

Cheyenne's real struggle for life, for advancement, for culture and permanent prosperity, was to begin with this new year of 1868. We know how grandly the young city conquered, not by "magic" this time, but better still, by patience, pluck, and indomitable will. But to her honest and law-abiding citizens, at the outset of 1868, things looked dark indeed.

Cheyenne was the terminus of the Union Pacific Railroad that winter, and the scum of the floating Western population drifted thither.

Houses were insufficient, and many wintered in tents and dugouts.

To make things worse, great numbers of squatters came, and began seizing town lots.

"Shootings were frequent, and every manner of vice abounded. A canvas saloon would answer as well as another for gambling, drinking, and the purposes of the dives. Various men and women made the place intolerable. It was never disputed that this town exceeded in vice and unwholesome excitement any of the new cities of the West." The police were overwhelmed. Crime, theft, and assault were rampant. Patience ceased to be a virtue.

The commander at Fort Russell was appealed to, and a battalion was sent by him to escort the squatters beyond the city limits.

After that, the good people of Cheyenne took matters into their own hands, deciding to

"Take up arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing, end them."

A vigilance committee, that dernier resort of the order-loving Westerner of that period, was formed.

On January 11, 1868, this committee arrested three men for robbery. The criminals were bound together and placarded with the following notice:

"$900 stole. $500 returned! Thieves F. St. Clair, W. Grier, E. D. Brownell! City authorities please not interfere until ten o'clock A.M. Next case goes up a tree! Beware of Vigilance Committee!"

Comparatively gentle measures, like the above, were useless. Authority in that wild land had to be made of "sterner stuff." Not until the vigilants had hung and shot a dozen men did comparative order prevail. There was many a dark day for the well-wishers of Cheyenne; yet they lost and gradually peace came out of strife, order out of confusion, and civilization reigned supreme.

"No jot of heart or hope,

But pressed right boldly on,"

In 1869, Cheyenne became the great entrée port of the vast regions north and west.

On September seventh of that year the first term of court was held in the city.

In that same month of September, an election for members of the first Territorial Legislature took place.

That Legislature held a sixty days' session. Some of its dicta were as follows:

Gambling was allowed.

Taxes were placed upon all property, real or personal, excepting only United-States and public property; and in cases of individuals, exempting clothing and furniture, amounting to one hundred dollars.

Jails were to be placed in every county.

And, "last but not least," Cheyenne was declared the seat of the territorial government, and an appropriation was asked for with which to build a capitol.

Surroundings change rapidly in the rush of a new community, and 1870 saw Cheyenne established, strengthened, purified, settled.

The floating riff-raff had passed away, leaving a solid, intelligent population of sixteen hundred.

The city had at that time one public school and two private ones; the latter containing about sixty pupils. It had five well built and well furnished churches. The orders of Masons, Knights Templar, Odd Fellows, and Good Templars were all represented in Cheyenne at that time. The city had two large banks, three tobacconists, three hardware houses, two shoe stores, one confectionery, two bakeries, one livery stable, two first-class hotels, many common ones, a daily newspaper, two weeklies, a well organized fire department, and "an acqueduct, nearly completed, for bringing water from a source seven miles away into the city."

Cheyenne was now well governed, orderly, at peace, and only three years old.

She has not stood still – the brave little "Magic City!"

She keeps on growing, becoming more beautiful, more prosperous. The best we can wish for her is that her future may prove as phenomenal and brilliant as her past has been.

CHAPTER XXVI.

CAPTURED BY INDIANS

Cheyenne was at length left behind, and, with the object of securing companionship in my journey across Wyoming and Utah, I made the acquaintance of two herders – rough men and plain of speech, but apparently reliable and trustworthy. During the few days spent with these pioneers of the Plains, I learned but little of their past lives, yet I was thoroughly satisfied from the first that they would prove invaluable guides in my otherwise lonely ride over the Rockies.

My new companions, Israel Gordon and a Mexican with unpronounceable name, were on their way to Salt Lake City with a few mustangs and Indian ponies, and we at once arranged to journey together as far as our respective routes carried us.

On our first day out from Cheyenne we were much favored, having a clear sky and a southwest wind, which tempered pleasantly the usual chilliness of the season. A ride of thirty-three miles on an up-hill road brought us to Sherman, the highest point touched in the Rocky Mountains by the Union Pacific Railway. Here we halted for the night, had supper, and slept under our blankets in the open air.

After a light breakfast the following morning, November first, we continued our journey along the line of the Union Pacific. Still favored with fine weather and our mustangs being in excellent condition, good progress was noted in the march westward. I had now become quite well acquainted with my new-made friends, and, as our ponies shook the dust of many miles from their feet, we talked of the strange region through which we were passing, and of the routes which led to objective points beyond the mountains. During these conversations I learned that Gordon was born in Vermont, and lived in that State until the close of the Civil War, when he emigrated to Nebraska, and later to Wyoming, where for several years he led a wandering life among the hunters and cow-boys of the Far West. My other companion told me that he began life in New Mexico, and at the age of twenty-one drifted into Colorado, from which Territory he migrated to Cheyenne, in 1867. Both men were robust, strong of limb, and thoroughly accustomed to the habits and practices of the mixed population of the Plains.

As the reader may have observed, I have undertaken from the outset in this chapter to give some idea of the life and habits of my fellow-travelers, for, as will be discovered on another page, they were destined to share with me the most trying ordeal of my journey from Ocean to Ocean.

On reaching a point about a mile east of Skull Rocks, on the Laramie Plains, we were surprised to find ourselves confronted by a band of Indians – thirteen in number. This caused no uneasiness at first, as Indians are often seen on these Plains. We soon discovered, however, that they were on no friendly errand, and, upon a nearer approach, the herders pronounced them a raiding party of Arrapahoes. They were evidently in pursuit of plunder, were decked in war-paint, and as soon as we came in range of their rifles sounded the war-whoop and bore down upon us, in a manner that betokened anything but a peaceful visit, and left no doubt in our minds as to the motive of their attack.

The Arrapahoes were at this time the friends and allies of the Sioux, and the chief objects of their raid were doubtless revenge for white men and horses for their warriors, who were then rendezvoused in the Black Hills.

Fully convinced that we were in the presence of an enemy determined to kill or capture our little party, no attempt was made to parley. The ponies were hurriedly drawn together so as to form a barrier against the assaults of the Indians, who were now in short range and gradually closing in upon us. As they galloped around us, the Indians formed a circle and kept up an incessant fire, to which we replied over the backs of our ponies, but with little effect, as from their mode of attack they were a constantly shifting target and difficult to reach, even with the best weapons in use. My own equipment consisted of a carbine, such as I had used in the cavalry service during the Civil War, and a 22-calibre Colt's revolver. Gordon and the Mexican were each provided with a Winchester rifle and navy revolver, while nearly all the Arrapahoes were armed with Winchesters and revolvers.

But few moments were required to settle the unequal contest. Four of our horses fell in rapid succession, including my own mustang; in the meantime we brought down one Indian and three ponies. The Indian was instantly killed by a shot from the Mexican.

On seeing one of their number fall, the Arrapahoes rushed upon us with deafening yells, and with such force as to render resistance useless. Our arms were taken from us, our horses quickly seized, and, in much less time than it takes to tell it, we were mounted and riding at a rapid pace to the northward, under a guard of six well-armed Indians, who were carefully instructed as to their duties by their chief, Lone Wolf. The remainder of the band were more or less occupied in scouring the country for horses and other plunder, wanted for their encampment in the Black Hills.

We rode at a trot or gallop until about ten o'clock at night, when a halt was ordered by the chief, and all dismounted; a fire was built and some antelope meat, secured during the day, was partially roasted and distributed among the Indians and their captives. We were for some time squatted around a big fire – our captors engaged in earnest conversation. Gordon understood enough of their language to interpret that the discussion related to their prisoners – that the friends of the Indian killed at Skull Rocks, and who were in the majority, were in favor of putting all of their prisoners to death for having shot one of their number. Lone Wolf, however, interposed, saying it would be enough to take the life of him who had killed their brother. Supper over, four Arrapahoes approached us and seized the herder who had fired the fatal shot. They led him to a stake which had been driven in the ground about fifty yards from the bivouac; to this stake he was firmly bound by lariat ropes. All of the Indians then began dancing around and torturing their victim in the most brutal manner conceivable. Arrow-heads were heated in the fire and held against his naked person. Three or four of the Indians made a target of their captive, and amused themselves by hurling at him their sharp-pointed knives, which, penetrating his body, remained imbedded in the flesh, until he was nearly exhausted with pain and loss of blood. These tortures were continued until our unfortunate comrade lost consciousness, when one of the Arrapahoes, more humane than his associates, advanced and ended his sufferings by a pistol-shot in the head.

In the meantime Gordon and I were seated on the ground, bound together, and unable to offer any relief to our suffering companion, who bore his tortures with a greater degree of composure and fortitude than I ever witnessed on the battle-field or within the walls of the dungeon, and, while no stately column or monumental pile marks his resting-place, he deserves to sleep beside the heroic martyrs of the border who have risked life and suffered privation and hardship for the advancement of a higher civilization.

Having disposed of the Mexican, several of the Indians now approached Gordon and myself, and, separating us, seized me roughly by the arms, and, dragging me to the stake, bound me to it and commenced a series of dances, accompanied by much gesticulation and taunting, which they doubtless intended as a sort of introduction to tortures which were to follow. Lone Wolf, who had from the first seemed friendly, but who was at this time some distance from the camp-fire, now rushed to my rescue and dispersed our inhuman captors, who were loath to desist from their devilish work. A few minutes later a brother of the Indian killed at Skull Rocks removed the scalp of the Mexican, and, after he had fastened it to his belt, all began dancing around the fire, singing and shouting until they were thoroughly exhausted, when they squatted upon the ground, apparently regretting that they had not been permitted to put more trophies in their scalp locks.

An object of interest to us at this time was the horses which were tethered by long lariat ropes to stakes which had been driven in the ground at a convenient distance from the encampment. Could we but elude the guard and mount the mustangs we were riding when captured, our chances for escape would be all we could wish. As usual, we were bound together, with two stalwart Indians in charge. The other Indians disposed themselves around the fire and slept. I and my companion slept very little, but pretended to do so. We were always on the alert and seeking opportunities to escape. About two o'clock in the morning our guards were relieved by two others, and all was again quiet around their camp-fire. At the first streak of dawn, the Indians were up and had a scant breakfast of dried buffalo meat and venison, which had been secured from the ranches of frontiersmen during their raid of the previous day; of this they gave us barely enough to satisfy hunger.

As soon as all were ready for the trail, Gordon and I were each given a pony, which we mounted under the close scrutiny of the guard, and the entire party started northward at a brisk trot. No real attempt to escape had thus far been made and the watch became somewhat relaxed, the attention of the Indians being devoted chiefly to foraging. When opportunity seemed favorable for the capture of horses or cattle, a halt was called by the leader, and three or four of the party were detailed for this purpose. These foragers were expected to keep themselves and their prisoners supplied with meat and such other rations as could be found in the straggling cabins of frontiersmen, but, as their raids often proved fruitless, we were, at best, scantily provided for, and many times entirely without food.

We were now skirting the Black Hills, and I had discovered by this time that our captors were making their way to the Arrapahoe rendezvous, about one hundred miles from Deadwood.

At the end of the second day the routine of the previous night was repeated: the Indians built a fire, cooked and ate some antelope meat, which had been brought in by the foragers during the afternoon, and then lay down around the fire for the night, their two prisoners being again bound together, with a guard on each side. Notwithstanding these precautions, however, on the part of the Arrapahoes, I was quietly on the alert, and, although feigning sleep, was wide awake and prepared to take advantage of any circumstance which might prove favorable to an escape. I passed the fingers of my right hand over the cord that bound the left to my fellow-prisoner and felt sure that with patience and persistence the knot could be untied and our liberty regained.