Life of a Pioneer: The Autobiography of James S. Brown. James S. Brown

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      CHAPTER VIII.

       Table of Contents

      ON THE SUMMIT OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS—CROSSING THE BACKBONE OF THE NORTH AMERICAN CONTINENT—REVIEW OF THE JOURNEY—GRAVES OPENED BY WOLVES—MUTILATED BODIES—AN UNPARALLELED JOURNEY OF HARDSHIP—THE PROSPECT AHEAD—A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH—START DOWN THE PACIFIC SLOPE—DESCENDING THE CLIFFS WITH WAGONS—ONE VEHICLE SLIPS AND IS REDUCED TO KINDLING WOOD AND SCRAP IRON—INTO A NEW CLIMATE—CHANGE IN THE CHARACTER OF VEGETATION—WILD HORSES AND CATTLE—ATTACKED BY WILD CATTLE—SEVERAL MEN HURT AND ONE MULE GORED TO DEATH—A NUMBER OF CATTLE KILLED—SUPPLY OF BEEF—REACH THE SAN PEDRO RIVER—TRAVELING THROUGH A HEAVY GROWTH OF MESQUIT AND CHAPPARAL—APPROACH THE MEXICAN GARRISONED TOWN OF TUCSON—NEWS OF APPROACH OF A LARGE AMERICAN ARMY SENT TO THE MEXICANS—ORDER ISSUED BY COLONEL COOKE.

      AT the camp at Dry Lake, which we reached between November 20 and 25, we laid over a day, and a party was sent ahead to cut a road over the divide. I was too weak for four or five days to take much interest in what passed; and in the meantime the command reached and crossed the divide, or summit of the Rocky Mountains—the backbone of the North American continent—where the waters are divided, flowing on either side to the Atlantic and Pacific respectively.

      For eighteen hundred miles the Mormon Battalion members had made a hard and weary march. Starting from Nauvoo, on the Mississippi River—the "father of waters"—as exiles, they had passed over a lovely country, yet at a season of the year when travel was difficult, to the Missouri River. At the latter point the battalion was mustered into service, and moved over an excellent country two hundred miles to Fort Leavenworth; thence through what is now the state of Kansas, passing over a goodly land to the Great Plains, a timberless country, where water is scarce. There they began to be footsore and leg-weary, and to suffer severely from heat and thirst. Soon they came to the desert, and for nine days tried cooking their shortened rations over "buffalo chip" fires, with fuel even scarcer than it was poor; often having very little water, and that brackish, so that men and hearts began to grow weak and ill.

      At this point in the long journey they commenced passing the open graves of soldiers, many of whom laid down their lives in the advance companies. Their graves were open for the reason that wolves had dug up the dead bodies and devoured the flesh from the bones; the blankets in which the bodies were wrapped were torn to shreds, while in some instances the carcass still hung together, except that the fingers and toes had been eaten off by wild beasts. The road was also strewn with dead horses and cattle, so that as the battalion advanced the gruesome sights became more frequent and therefore excited less comment. And in turn the battalion contributed a share of dead to the lonely graves of the plains.

      Then, on the sandy roads, there was the rough order to put the shoulder to the wheel and help the jaded teams; and the battalion waded creeks and rivers with quicksand bottoms, or lifted or pulled at ropes in lowering or raising their wagons over rough and precipitous places—in what appeared at that time a rough and worthless country, which may not have changed greatly since.

      At times they were called forward to tramp sand roads for teams, and then to return and pull at ropes or push at wagons which, without assistance, the teams could not control. Then when Santa Fe was passed the journey was proceeded upon with reduced rations, down the difficult country along the Rio Grande del Norte. Onward the struggle continued, over sandy deserts and through a rough, mountainous region, where the hardships were intense, and where there seemed no eye to pity and no hand to pass even a drop of water to moisten the parching tongue. It was not human capability, it was the divine power that sustained them in such extremities as they had to endure.

      It was thus the renowned Mormon Battalion toiled and struggled on their journey to the summit of the lofty Rocky Mountain range—the crest of the continent—a journey whose details of privation, and peril, and patient courage, cannot be told in human words, and never can be realized except by those who experienced it. So many lofty mountain spurs had been crossed, that the final ascent seemed quite gradual.

      Leaving now this general survey of the past, I recall that from the lofty eminence we had reached on our march, the descent was very abrupt and difficult, through the rugged defiles to the west. But with the battalion it was a case of life and death. That was no place to remain, there was no earthly help at hand, no way to life open but to trust in God and persevere in the onward movement. So with the pick-axe and crow-bar we commenced to clear the most feasible road down by chopping away the shrubbery and brush and removing that and the rocks.

      After much of the baggage had been taken down the mountain one way by pack animals, long ropes СКАЧАТЬ