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

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      CHAPTER X.

       Table of Contents

      ON THE GILA RIVER—PIMA INDIAN VILLAGE—WELCOME GIFTS FROM THE PIMAS—AMONG THE MARICOPA INDIANS—ASLEEP ON THE TRAIL—VISIT PROM A BEAR—LOSS OF PROVISIONS THROUGH AN ATTEMPT TO FLOAT A QUANTITY DOWN THE GILA—HARD TRAVELING—CROSSING THE COLORADO RIVER—GLOOM IN THE CAMP—LOWER AND UPPER CALIFORNIA—TERRIBLE MARCH OVER THE TIERRA CALIENTE, OR HOT LANDS—DIGGING WELLS FOR BRACKISH WATER—ADVANCE GUARD REACH A MOUNTAIN SPRING—WATER CARRIED BACK TO REVIVE THE FAINTING TROOPS—LAST SPOONFUL OF FLOUR USED—DIVIDING THE RATIONS—IN THE CANYONS OF THE SIERRA NEVADA—HEWING ROADS THROUGH ROCKS AND BRUSH—FEEDING ON LIVE ACORNS AND GREEN MUSTARD—NEWS OF VICTORIES BY UNITED STATES TROOPS IN CALIFORNIA—PREPARING TO ENGAGE THE RETIRING MEXICAN ARMY—FIRST HOUSE SEEN IN CALIFORNIA—BEEF WITHOUT SALT—TRADE FOR ACORN MUSH—HEAVY STORM AND FLOOD IN CAMP—A FEW POUNDS OF FLOUR SECURED—DANCING IN MUD AND WATER—RECEIVE ORDERS TO GO TO LOS ANGELES—DISCOVER A BODY OF TROOPS IN LINE OF BATTLE—ADVANCE TO THE ATTACK—SUPPOSED FOE PROVES TO BE FRIENDLY INDIANS—PRESENCE OF THE MORMON BATTALION PREVENTS AN INTENDED ATTEMPT BY MEXICANS TO RETAKE CALIFORNIA, ALSO AN UPRISING OF CALIFORNIANS AGAINST THE UNITED STATES—ON A BATTLEFIELD WHERE GENERAL KEARNEY HAD FOUGHT—RELICS OF THE ENCOUNTER—PROPHECY OF PRESIDENT BRIGHAM YOUNG AND ITS FULFILLMENT—SOURCE OF HIS INSPIRATION.

      WHERE we reached the Gila River it was a lovely stream, four or live rods wide; but the country was covered with alkali grass and mesquit brush. We rested part of a day, then proceeded down the river eight or ten miles, coming to a Pima Indian village. The Pima Indians were superior to any that we had fallen in with heretofore. They were an agricultural people, peacefully inclined, and kind and loving toward each other. Those in the village appeared the picture of good health. They came and went by twos, the males and females keeping each sex, to themselves. They seemed the most affectionate people I had ever met; happy and innocent in appearance—a large and handsome class of persons. Each Indian was wrapped in a large home-made blanket.

      The Pimas had corn, wheat, pumpkins, beans, and, I think, peas. Some of the Indians noted our wretched and starved condition, and cut up a lot of pumpkins—as we cut them for cows. These they boiled, and handed to the soldiers as the latter passed by and took the proffered food in anything they could get to hold the steaming hot vegetables. The men were indeed thankful for these favors, although they came from Indians.

      It was between the 20th and 25th of December when we left the Pima Indian village, and passed down the Gila River to a broad, open, fertile valley in the Maricopa Indian country. At the Maricopa Indian villages we met many fine specimens of the native inhabitants. We traded brass buttons for food. One brass button had more purchasing power than a five dollar gold piece.

      It was some five or six days before we passed out of the Maricopas' farming country. There was a large bend in the river, and we traveled three days over a rough, sandy country before we came to the stream again. On this march we camped without water. The writer was one of those who stood guard around the stock. The feed was so scarce that we were kept running all night. I was so completely worn out next day that at about eleven a.m. I sought rest by dropping out of the command and hiding from the rearguard behind a clump of brush that grew on a sand knoll. No sooner had I laid down than I fell into a sound slumber, oblivious to all danger.

      When the writer awakened from that sleep the rearguard had passed on long before; the sun had changed position so that the drowsy soldier felt perfectly lost, but gradually he came to realize that it was three or four o'clock p.m. Some six or eight feet from where he had been lying he found fresh bear tracks, telling him of the wild beast that had been viewing him while wrapt in slumber. He hurried forward on the trail, and reached camp just as the night guards were being posted and his comrades were becoming greatly concerned for his safety.

      Our route lay down the river, through deep sand and mesquit brush, where we had not only to chop and clear away the brush, but had to push and pull the wagons until our souls as well as our bodies were worn out. We gathered mesquit and a kind of pod to feed our mules. We were six days traveling sixty miles, to the crossing of the Colorado River, or Red River, as it was called by some.

      The reader will not wonder that on reaching this point a mountain of gloom rested upon the whole command, causing the men almost to despair as they, on the 10th day of January, 1847, stood on the banks of the swift-flowing Colorado—the stream being half a mile wide at that place—with no alternative but to wade across, pulling and pushing at the wagons, then to cut and burn their way out, through the thick brush on the bottom land, to the bench or bluff that opened out on a barren desert, known to the Mexicans as Tierra Caliente, or the Hot Lands.

      Now the command entered upon another soul-trying march. The route from the crossing of the Colorado was over the northeast corner of Lower California, some sixty miles above the Gulf of California, then into the south-eastern part of Upper California. The stronger men, with a little extra ration, preceded the main army, to dig wells in the desert.

      No sooner was the almost hopeless march commenced than men began to lag behind, so that when the advance guard came to a halt at any part of the journey, others were miles behind. The first day we came to a well that General Phil. Kearney and his men had dug, but it had caved in so badly that it was almost as much work to clean it as to dig a new one; and when it was cleaned, our men dug another. The water was scant and brackish. We remained at that point only until the rear of the command caught up, then proceeded on our way, stopping but a short time in any one place, until we reached Cariza, a splendid spring near the base of the Sierra Nevada range of mountains. The first men to reach water filled kegs and canteens, lashed them to the stouter animals, and hastened back to succor and revive the famishing men who were bringing up the rear.

      On that terrible march many of the weaker men despaired of ever reaching water. We passed several, who, with sunken and glazed eyes and blackened mouths and looking as ghastly as death, stammered to us as we passed them: "Goodby, I shall never live to reach water. I cannot go a step farther, but shall die on this spot." Poor fellows! I verily believe that if they had not been resuscitated by the water that was carried back, their words would have been painfully true before the rising of another sun.

      If it had not been for some fresh mules and beef cattle that we met on this tedious march, we never could have got through with the wagons, and possibly would have lost some men, as our flour had given out and we were reduced so near to starvation as to eat every particle of the worn-out beef ox; even the tender part of the horns and hoofs, and the intestines, were broiled СКАЧАТЬ