Buckskin Mose

by George W. Perrie

  CHAPTER VII.

  AFTER GOLD--THE PAH-UTE AND WASHO INDIANS--RUNNING OFF STOCK--PAYING TRIBUTE--THE OATH OF VENGEANCE--SOME SILVER BULLETS--"KNOWING DEM VELLERS"--AN UNGIRTHED SADDLE--THE UNBALANCED ACCOUNT--RECRUITING--THE BUCKSKIN RANGERS--A LITTLE BIOGRAPHY--MY NEW HORSE--A STORM IN THE MOUNTAINS--UNINTENTIONAL FIRING--OUT OF THE TEMPEST.

  It is unnecessary for me to detail the events of my campaign for goldduring the following year and a half. At this moment, wealth seemedwithin my grasp, and in the next I might be mourning over or cursing myunrealized hopes. However, in 1857, wearied out with my apparently vainbattle with Fortune, chance called me to another field of adventure.

  There were in that year, all told, very certainly no more than seventyor seventy-five persons living in the Valley of Honey Lake. Of these,the larger proportion were engaged in ranching and stock-raising. Amongthem, the leading men were, after Governor Roop, Peter Lassen, W. T. C.Elliott, more familiarly known as Ruff Elliott, the Bass Boys, DavidTitherington, Tom Harvey, the Spencers, Captain W. Hill Naileigh, DavidBlanchard, Albert Smith, Orlando Streschley, Ed Mulrooney, Laninger,Storff, Watson, Kingsberry, Doc. Slater, and a few others.

  At this time, the Washo and Pah-ute Indians were in the neighborhood.Occasionally, they appeared quite friendly, and would do a spell of workfor the settlers, taking provisions in payment for such labor as theymight choose to do.

  No sooner, however, had they a good supply on hand than they wouldindulge in their natural propensity for stealing stock, frequentlyrunning off thirty or forty head of cattle at a time. It made nodifference to them whether these were working oxen or milch cows, solong as they had horns. As none of the settlers were wealthy men, thisunscrupulous appetite for marauding upon their stock was exceedinglydisgusting. Treaty after treaty had been made with the Indians, and wereequally worthless, whenever they had a fair show for stealing cattlewith the chance of escaping retributive justice.

  At length, the matter came to a head. The red robbers had run off nearlythe whole of the stock belonging to a particular friend of mine. Thenearest neighbors held an immediate meeting and determined, if possible,upon tracking the rascals and bringing them to book.

  Arming ourselves, we started at once in pursuit. Striking their trail,which was very plain, we continued after them for the best part of twodays.

  In the noon of the second day, discovering that they were pursued, theIndians resorted to the cowardly expedient of killing the whole of thecattle. They cut open their sides, and let out their intestines,afterwards scaling the side of the mountain, to the north-east of thevalley in which we had sighted them.

  It was a lamentably pitiable spectacle to see the poor brutes moaningtheir moan of death, with their glazing eyes turned upon those who hadcome too late to save them.

  Out of gun-shot, the Pah-utes--for the cruel scoundrels belonged tothis tribe--taunted us in no very heroic style. This was effected byextending their hands in front of their noses, as well as by a mostexpressive and insulting pantomimic slap on a very significant portionof their bodies. Blackguardism seems confined to no special race orcountry. So, at least, it appears to me.

  After a brief council of war, pursuit was decided upon, and we began tomount the precipice. Harry Arnold was with me, and we managed to deludethe Indians into the belief that they were beyond the range of ourrifles, by letting the few shots we considered it advisable to fire,fall short of them. This ruse tempted one of them on an eminence at somedistance, to repeat his aggravating gesture.

  "I believe I can pick that scamp off with my old Kentucky rifle, Harry!"

  "He's more than three hundred and fifty yards off, Mose!"

  "I don't think he is."

  "If any man can fetch him, you or I can. It's worth trying."

  He had scarcely concluded when the crack of my rifle was heard.

  The Pah-ute, who had been standing up in a more defiantly noble positionthan previously, uttered a loud yell, bounding into the air and rollingover the edge of the cliff, on to the rocks below.

  His mashed and mangled body furnished me with his scalp. The shot,however, fair as it was, had been an ill-advised one. Its result was,that when we reached the bluff on which he had been standing, notanother of the red scoundrels was visible. Nor did any of them showthemselves after this, even at double the distance which had temptedhim to indulge in such an insulting gesticulation.

  On returning home, we found the whole of the valley, or, rather, thoseof its inhabitants who had not formed part of our party, in a state ofintense excitement. The Indians had threatened a general massacre of thewhites in it, if they refused immediately to leave it. It may be readilyimagined, the death of the Pah-ute brave was ill-adapted to mollify sucha determination. Under these circumstances, it was decided, should theaffair come to the worst, on giving the red-skins as warm a reception aswas in our power. But, in the meantime, Peter Lassen and one or two ofthe older settlers, with Governor Roop, were despatched to Pyramid Laketo hold a conference with Win-a-muc-ca, the Pah-ute chief, and, if theycould do so, make a treaty with him.

  This was effected. We had to give a certain number of head of cattle,several thousand pounds of flour, sugar, and tobacco, as well as manyother small articles, in order to remain unmolested. It was neither morenor less than tribute.

  It is said that years bring wisdom. In any case Age had decided againstan Indian war in the neighborhood of Honey Lake Valley. Youthnecessarily had to submit.

  The demands of this treaty were a severe drain upon the settlement, themore especially as the winter set in early, with unusual severity. Wewere for more than four months shut in from the outer world, not evenbeing able to reach Indian Valley, where we had been accustomed to haveour wheat ground. It was ground during this time in a coffee-mill, andbeing out of coffee, we were compelled to use roasted barley as asubstitute. In addition to this, we had robbed ourselves of blankets tosupply the Indians; and in this comparatively destitute condition, itwas at times a difficult matter to supply the wants of the women andchildren.

  Towards the close of the following year the Indians again becametroublesome, until, in 1859, another treaty was patched up with them.

  During this period one of the most popular and estimable men in thesettlement, named Painter, was shot by a party of Pah-utes, who were inambush at the head of Surprise Valley. Intelligence of this was broughtus, by two or three companions who had been with him.

  Painter's brother Ben applied to myself and some others to accompany himand bury the body. When we reached the spot, we found it cut andmutilated in the most frightful manner. Ben, with the rest of us,kneeling beside it, took a solemn oath to be avenged, whenever theopportunity was afforded us. Having then buried the body, we named thevalley Painter's Canyon. It holds this name to the present day.

  In the fall of the same year, a report spread that a man called Foremanhad struck a valuable silver-mine in the vicinity of Black Rock. Thiswas the same place, in which one of the settlers had discovered a largelump of silver ore. His name was Harding. Being on a hunting expeditionat the time, and out of lead, he had run it into bullets.

  A tolerable degree of excitement was caused amongst us, by theconfirmation of previous suppositions, we presumed was thus given. ButBlack Rock was more than a hundred and twenty miles beyond Susanville,on the north-west side of Queen's River Desert. Its distance preventedmany from going to prospect the place. However, after two or three days'talk over the matter, old Pete Lassen, with a man named Clapp, myself,and two other of the boys, determined upon verifying this report. On thefollowing day, therefore, striking the old Emigrant Road, and continuingit as far as Granite Creek, our little party followed the Granite rangeof mountains up to Stove-pipe Springs. Thence, we crossed them to theBlack Rock range. On the whole of the way, recently, we had encounteredwandering Indians. They had seemed very friendly. We were, however, in asection of the country which the red-skins evidently considered theirrightful property.

  The place
of encampment this night, selected by Uncle Peter, was veryunfavorably situated. But when I advised him to allow me to select amore defensible location, on higher ground than that adjoining the smallcreek which he had chosen, the old German was obstinate.

  "Tamn it, my poy! Don't you 'spose I know dem vellers. Dey von't hurtold Pete. You must give dem some crub, my poy! Dat ish all dey vants."

  "That may be, Uncle Peter," I replied; "but I wouldn't trust the lastthree or four lots of red devils we have met, out of the range of myrifle."

  Just at this moment a party of some dozen Indians approached the littlecamp, and the peaceful Peter motioning them with his hand, shouted out:

  "Comes t'here!"

  Understanding his inviting action, if not his words, they flocked aroundhim. The old Dutchman gave them some bread, meat, and tobacco. Beforethey left us, he added to these things some powder and caps.

  "A very dangerous gift," as I grumbled out in a low tone of voice.

  When, after having got all they could, they quitted us, I expressed mywish to Uncle Pete to stand on guard during the night.

  "Don't be a tamned vool!" was his reply. "I dink you ar' scared of demInjins. If you vants, go on de hill, and leaff old Pete by himself. Ihafe no vear."

  Irritated by his answer, I blurted out:

  "As you are determined to stay here, Uncle Peter, we'll not leave you."

  But although, shortly after, the rest who were with him followed the oldDutchman's example, and after a smoke--the usual night-cap of the scoutor trapper, spread out their blankets and prepared for rest, I wasunable to do so. The unerring presentiment, which, without inspiringterror, tells us to be prepared for danger ahead, kept me on the watch.It was, therefore, at an early hour I aroused the camp.

  "I'll pet," exclaimed the Dutchman, wrathful at what he considered hisuntimely wakening, turning to Clapp, "dat Mose vas not sleep all night."

  "I tell you," was my sharp reply, "we had better get out of this place,cursed quickly!"

  All of them, the old man excepted, turned out. In spite of Clapp'sremonstrances, he, however, re-rolling himself in his blanket,petulantly exclaimed:

  "Vell! I shleeps, some more."

  It was scarcely a quarter of an hour after this, when we were fired uponfrom the craggy rocks which commanded our position. This volleyslaughtered two of our doomed band. With very pardonable anger, althoughI have since regretted this ebullition of temper, I administered asharp kick to the form of Uncle Peter, who was rolling out of hisblankets.

  "Get up, at once," I sung out. "I suppose you'll follow my advice, now."

  "Dey von't hurt old Pete," he responded, "so I vill get my plankets."

  Thoroughly out of patience with him, I leaped into my saddle, and it wasnone too soon. Another volley took down Clapp, who was just mounting.Thinking, at last, there might be some danger, the Dutchman made aspring for Clapp's horse. In consequence of the saddle not beingproperly girthed, it slid round with him, and he fell to the ground.Before he could spring to his feet, the concealed Indians had put twobullets through his body. Then, quitting their hiding-place, they rushedupon me. One ball from my rifle settled the foremost of them. With avigorous thrust from my heels to the flanks of the horse I was mountedon, I shook out my bridle and fled, in the midst of a perfect shower ofbullets and arrows. All but one of the last missed me. This inflicted ascalp-wound, and for a moment I reeled in my saddle.

  Turning immediately after, I once more raised my rifle, and had thesatisfaction of wiping out one more Indian life, as a partial paymentfor the four they had taken.

  Fairly out of danger of pursuit, I groaned over the death of PeterLassen and my three companions.

  No longer, my anger (the results had amply proved its justice)reproached him for the obstinate hardihood with which he had sountowardly ended our silver-hunting expedition.

  Nevertheless, I was in no position to indulge either in wrath orsorrow. My present course was to be determined on. After a brief counselwith myself, I decided on continuing my flight through that part of thecountry settlers called the Desert. Few trees or rising hills markedthis. Consequently I should here have less chance of risking a secondIndian ambuscade. Indeed, on approaching Granite Creek, surroundingindications betrayed the presence of red-skins in the neighborhood, andalthough in want of water for myself and the animal I was mounted on, Ipreferred taking my chances on the comparatively barren plain.

  "The monument erected to Peter Lassen in Honey LakeValley."--_Page 103._]

  Providentially, about nightfall I reached a spring. Here I dismounted,and gave my horse some two hours' rest.

  Remounting, I then continued my way, piloting myself by the stars, as afugitive on the Plains has frequently to do, if, as in the present case,although there was no moon, the night is clear enough to afford such aseries of guide-posts to the wanderer.

  Sunrise brought me to Smoke Creek. After another short rest, I againpulled out for Susanville.

  The last fifty miles was hard work for the worn-out and jaded animal,whose enduring bottom had so largely contributed to my escape.

  All in Susanville and around it were struck with horror, when I detailedthe circumstances of the slaughter, from which I was the sole survivor.A large portion of the prominent settlers, amongst which Governor Roopwas the most influential, coincided with me in denouncing all furthertreaties with the treacherous Indians, whether Pah-utes or of any othertribe.

  However, some who had families, and were not unreasonably apprehensivefor their safety in the event of a continuous struggle, warmly opposedour views. At this time, they believed that the red-skins around usnumbered some eight or ten thousand.

  In the face of their opposition, with the co-operation of Governor Roop,I determined upon a plan of action.

  The first man I spoke to about joining me was Harry Arnold. He was agood shot, and a man of dauntless courage--not knowing what animpossibility might be. Not only did he consent to work with me, butgave me invaluable assistance in drawing together such tough anddetermined fellows as each of us could rely upon. Amongst these was BenPainter, Luther Spencer, David Blanchard, my old friend Brighton Bill,Butch' Hasbrouck, and a number of others, as good men as ever rammed aball down a rifle. In all, on the succeeding day, when we comparednotes, we found twenty-four men had signed the roll, and pledgedthemselves to readiness at twenty minutes' notice. Both agreeing thesewere enough, we met on the following day in Willow Creek Valley, somefourteen to sixteen miles north of Susanville, where we completed ourorganization. The company was to take the name of the BUCKSKIN RANGERS,of which I was to be the captain. Harry Arnold and Ben Painter werechosen as my first and second lieutenants, while every one else was toact as an orderly sergeant, as well as his own commissary. Our agreementwas that we should all dress in buckskin, at our own expense. Indeed,every man was to furnish his entire fit-out, complete for activeservice.

  It will afterwards be seen, what this active service actually meant.

  The next thing we had to do, was to select our horses. Jack Bird,settled at the lower end of Honey Lake, owned a large stock. Besidespresenting me with one of his own special favorites, to which he hadgiven the name of the Tipton Slasher, he contributed to mounting theRangers, most liberally.

  The animal he gave me was a dapple iron-gray, partly of Spanish stock,with fine clean limbs, and of great speed and endurance. When Jack gaveit to me, he said:

  "Look here, Mose! if you ever let a darned red-skin catch you, it willbe when you are not on Tip's back."

  So much for the horse. Now, for myself.

  Here was another change in my life. Circus-rider, pop-corn merchant,actor, detective, enlisted in an emigrant-train, gold-digger, andengaged with stock, I was now a ranger, and about to start in a newavocation. Hitherto, the red men I had come across had been lookingafter me and mine. Now, I was about to look after them.

  The wild, dense forest, the gigantic mountains, the untroddenwilderness, sweeping beneath the sky with its varying swell, theun
broken waste and desert with the savage dwellers in it, whose crimsonhands were against all civilization and gory with the uncounted murdersof the white man, were now to furnish me with all the delight my naturecould crave from a life of constant excitement. If I thought of my homeand my friends, hundreds upon hundreds of miles away from me, I fear, atthis time, it was with no inconsolable feelings of regret. In truth, Iwas about to become the veritable pioneer and protector of thescarcely-rooted civilization in which my lot had lately been cast. Whatchance was there I could over-much think of the past, in the absolutetoil and the positive demand for vital activity of the present?

  I was now about twenty-four years of age. My frame always promisingstrength, had become robust and powerful. Nature had gifted me with asufficiently good constitution, as well as some considerable amount ofenergy. In addition to this, I possessed self-confidence enough torender me equal to the position in which fortune and adventure hadplaced me.

  By the bye, it may be as well for me here to say a few words respectingJack Bird, who was commonly called by his acquaintances "the" Captain.

  About fifty-five years of age, and rather above the medium height, hepossessed a powerful frame. Of dark complexion, and with piercing hazeleyes; he was a Mississipian, or, as he was used to say, he "came fromold Massisip." In a word, a native, as he himself told me, of Arkansas,he was a splendid specimen of the class of men raised between civilizedlife and the extreme frontier of that civilization. Thus he had beenmade a backwoodsman by nature and predisposition, as well as necessity.With an active and energetic mind, he had carved out for himself in thiswild country, a comparative fortune.

  Had he been reared in New York State, he might have grown to theproportions of a Vanderbilt.

  As, however, he had neither ferries to cross, nor railways to lay out,he occupied himself in traversing mountains, and in creatingsettlements. Not having legislatures to buy up, his restless energy hadoccupied itself in the control of savage life. An emigrant to Californiain 1849, he had engaged at first in mining. Afterwards, he went intostock-raising. It had been in 1857 that he settled on the boundaries ofHoney Lake. Here he remained, until the close of the late war. Then, hedecided upon returning for a brief period to his old homestead. He was,however, doomed never to reach it. Starting overland by stage, he wasslaughtered, with the driver and other of the passengers, by theIndians, and never reached the place of his birth. He was one of the fartoo numerous victims, thrust forward by the restless progress of theday, in the face of the red savages, who have up to the present timebeen sheltered under the protecting aegis of our Government. A nobler,kinder-hearted, and franker man, perhaps, I have never met with.

  It was somewhat previous to the formation of the Buckskin Rangers, towhose efficiency he had so largely and liberally contributed, that newsilver-mines had been discovered, near what is now known as VirginiaCity, as well as in Gold Hill near Carson City, in Nevada. Thisdiscovery had created considerable excitement, and a large number offortune-seekers were already flocking to the mines. The Indians,however, were quite as active as the searchers after wealth. Scarcely aday passed which was unmarked by the murder of some poor prospector, inthat vicinity.

  Their scalped remains invariably attested the means by which they hadmet their death.

  The red-skins seemed almost as ubiquitous as devils. Wherever theypassed, the trail of blood was left behind them.

  In order to put a stop to their murderous depredations, Major Ormsby, atthat period, well known throughout the country, in the neighborhood ofCarson City, formed a company. Another smaller company, which hadorganized in Virginia City, for the same purpose, and already startedout for the Pyramid Mountains, near the Reservation, had also joinedhim. Altogether, this party numbered something over one hundred andfifty men.

  Large as this body was, it was destined to meet with ill-luck, or,probably, I should give it a much graver name.

  Finding that the Indians had retreated into the mountains, Ormsbydetermined on advancing upon them, and driving them from theirstronghold.

  In doing so, he probably counted upon punishing them with a severity,which should free the neighborhood for some length of time from theirmurderous presence.

  Whether it arose from his ignorance of the mode of warfare pursued bythe red-skins, or from his over-confidence in his own numbers, it wouldbe impossible now to determine. All I know is, that Ormsby's command wasmet with a terrific fire, which drove them back.

  Whilst they were in full retreat, their enemies broke from their cover,and created a thorough panic in their ranks.

  This resulted in a frightful disaster. Out of the hundred and fifty men,barely nineteen made their escape, the Major himself being among theslain.

  The news of this terrific slaughter spread from settlement to settlementin the vicinity, like wildfire. But, previously, having heard of MajorOrmsby's intended movement, the Rangers had decided upon lending him ahelping hand. I had consequently moved with them from Honey Lake, uponthe opposite side of Pyramid Mountains. On our way there, we had pickedup a considerable number of volunteers, and counted some forty-five orfifty men in all. On reaching the base of the mountains, I found that itwould be impossible to use our horses in any farther advance. Weconsequently decided upon leaving our four-footed companions, and Idetailed half a dozen of our party to look after their safety.

  After carefully examining our weapons, we then cautiously commencedascending the rocky declivity.

  Scarcely had we counted upon the almost immediate result of this step.Some three quarters of an hour after, we entered on a heavy mist or fog,which gradually became thicker and more dense, until it almost felt likea wet and sodden blanket, actually saturating us to the skin.

  Suddenly, from the midst of this sheet of gloom, burst a spear oflightning. No! not a spear. It was, or seemed to be, one broad sheet offlame, which actually enveloped us, for the moment, blinding our eyes,and rendering us unable to see any of our companions.

  This flash was followed by another and another, with incrediblerapidity, until their scathing glow seemed almost continuous, while theroll of the unintermittent thunder made the mountain-side tremblebeneath our feet.

  By the first effect of this fearful storm, all our rifles had beeninstantly and involuntarily discharged. Stalwart men, who would havekept their feet in any ordinary commotion of the elements, wereprostrated on the earth. Brave men, who had faced danger of almost everydescription, trembled like the veriest children. Their bronzed cheekswhitened with fear, and when able to stand, their knees quivered underthem with terror. Perhaps none of us expected to escape from thatshroud of living light alive. Very certainly I did not, and am notashamed to own, that, in the midst of the rolling thunder, a cry to Godfor mercy, which none but the Almighty One Himself could possibly haveheard, broke from my panting lips.

  Possibly, that unpremeditated appeal was listened to. Soon after theflashes relaxed their continuity, and in its occasional pauses thethunder might have allowed the voice of any who had spoken to be heard.Gradually, the tempest passed away, and I heard a rough male voice say:

  "The Lord be thanked!"

  There was, in all probability, not one of us, un-churchgoing andreckless as we had all for many years been, who did not, within his ownheart, re-echo that solitary thanksgiving.