- OREST AND STREAM 
tjuLV 22, igoS- 
what next would come to Thdmv' They foutld, however, 
that the description of tkfe trail was very different from 
the reality. Sometimes, where they expected to find 
water, there was none. -At other points, large streams 
fiowmd wdiere they had- been, told that no wmter w'^as to 
be had. ; ' 
Fortunately Fremont's party was ahead of the annual 
Santa Fe caravans, which insured them good grass at the 
camping places. They had, not gone far before they 
met parties of Mohave Indians, who seemed friendly 
enough; but on the day following, two Spaniards, a man 
■and a lad, came into camp telling of their party of six 
liaving been attacked by Indians/ about eighty miles 
beyond the encampment. . They had with them about 
thirty horses, and were suddenly attacked by a party 
of Indians, who had preWously been in camp and 
seemed friendly. The; horse; .guards — the two who had 
just come into Freni.onths camp — drove their animals 
through the attacking party, arid escaped with their 
horses, wTich they , had left ’ about twenty miles be- 
hind on coming to Fremont’s camp. When the white 
men came to the place wFere the horses had been left, 
it appeared that the animals had been driven off by 
Indians. Garson and Godet, with the Mexican Fuentes, 
started after them; but in the evening the Mexican re- 
turned, his horse having given out. 
“In the afternoon of the next day a warwhoop was 
heard, such as Indians make when returning from a 
victorious enterprise, and soon Carson and Godey ap- 
peared, driving before them a band of horses, recog- 
nized by Fuentes to be part of those they had lost. Two 
bloody scalps, dangling from the end of Godey’s gun, 
announced that they had overtaken the Indians as well 
as the horses. They informed us, that after Fuentes 
left them, from the failure of his horse, they continued 
the pursuit alone, and toward nightfall entered the 
mountains, into which the -trail led. After sunset the 
moon gave light, and they followed the trail by moon- 
shine until late in the riight, when it entered a narrow 
defile, and was difficult to follow. Afraid of losing it in 
the darkness of the defile, they tied up their horses, 
struck no fire, and lay down to sleep in silence and in 
darkness. Here they lay from midnight till morning. 
At daylight they resumed the pursuit, and about sunrise 
discovered the horses, and immediately dismounting and 
tying up their own, they crept- cautiously to a rising 
ground which intervened, from the crest of which they 
perceived the encampriTent of four lodges close by. 
They proceeded quietly, and had got .within thirty or 
forty yards of their object, when a movement among the 
horses disclosed them' to the Indians.: bGiving the war 
shout, they instantly charged into the .camp, regardless 
of the number which the four lodges would imply. I he 
Indians received them with a flight of arrows shot from 
their long bows, one of which passed through Godey’s 
shirt collar, barely missing the neck.- Our men fired 
their rifles upon a steady aim, and rushed in. Two In- 
dians were stretched on .the ground fatally pierced with 
bullets; the rest fled, except a lad that was captured. 
The scalps of the fallen- were instantly stripped off; but 
in the process, one of them, who' had two balls through 
his body, sprung to his feet, the blood streaming from 
his skinned head, and uttering a hideous howl. An old 
squaw, possibly his mother, stopped and looked back 
from the mountainside she w;is climbing, threatening 
and lamentirig. The fri^htfrii spectacle appalled the 
stout hearts of our rrien; but they did what humanity 
required, and quickly terminated the agonies of the gory 
savage. They weie i %\ masters of the. camp, which 
was a pretty little recess: m the mountarin, with a fine 
spring, and apparently safx; from -alk i-nyasion. Great 
preparations had been n tde t ) feast a; la.tge party, for 
it was a very proper pia.ee for a rendezvous, and for 
the celebration of such orgies ; as robbers of the desert 
would delight in. Several of 'thb, be# horses had been 
killed, skinned and cut up, ' for .The -Indians, living in 
mountains and only cpniing. into the ^plains to rob and 
murder, make no other use ofThon^s than to eat them. 
Large earthen vessels were on- the fire, boiling ^ and 
stewing the horse beef, and several baskets containing 
fifty or sixty pairs oL moccasins indicated the presence 
or expectation of a considerable party. They released 
the boy, who had given strong evidence of the stoicism 
or something else of the savmge character, in com- 
mencing his breakfast unon a horse’s head as soon as 
he found he was not to be killed, but only tied as a 
prisoner. Their object accomplished, our men gathered 
up all the surviving horses, fifteen in number, returned 
upon their trail, and rejoined us at our camp in the 
afternoon of the same day. 'they rode about one hun- 
dred miles in the pursuit and return, and all in thirty 
hours. The time, place, object and numbers, consid- 
ered, this expedition of Carson and Godey may be con- 
sidered among the boldest and most disinterested which 
the annals of western adventure, so full of daring deeds, 
can present. Two men, in a savage desert, pursue day 
and night- an unknown body of Indians into the defiles 
of an unknown moutain, attack them on sight without 
counting numbers, and defeat them in an instant-^and 
for what? To punish the robbers of the desert, and to 
avenge the wrongs of Mexicans whom they did not 
know. I repeat, it was Carson and Godet who did this 
the former an American, born in the Boonslick 
county of Missouri; the latter a Frenchman, born 1 h St. 
Louis— and both trained to western enterprise from 
early life.” 
A little later the party came to the place where the 
Mexicans had been attacked. There were found the 
two m^n of the party, both killed by arrows; but of 
women there was no trace, they having evidently been 
carried away. Journeying onward, making short 
marches and some that were very long, they kept on 
along the Spanish trail. May 4— the longest journey 
of all, between fifty and sixty miles without any water— 
the skeletons of horses were constantly seen along the 
trail. ‘^Hourly expecting to find water, we continued 
to press on, until toward midnight, when, after a hard 
and uninterrupted march of sixteen hours, our wild 
mules began running ahead, and in a mile or two we 
came to a bold running stream — so keen is the sense of 
that aqimal, in these desert regions, in scenting at a 
distance this necessary of life.” , , 
The next day was spent m camp that the animals 
might rest and food. Indians were about them con- 
stantly, and apparently tried to steal their horses. They 
were very bold and insolent, but tl\e whites bore it all, 
being unwilling to be drawn into a fight. These were 
the same people who had murdered the Mexicans; 
they were bare-footed and nearly naked; the men were 
armed with bows and arrows, each carrying a quiver 
of thirty or forty shafts. The arrowheads were made of 
clear, tran-slucent stone, and Fremont says, “Shot from 
their long bows ate almost as effective as a gun shot.” 
A chief came into camp, and declared his confidence 
in himself, and his people; and his belief that they 
could destroy the white men, merely on the ground 
that they were many, while the whites were few. The 
Indians were seen hunting lizards, which they dragged 
from a hole by means of a long stick hooked at the 
end. The next day they followed the party, and 
promptly picked Up every animal that was left behind 
to rest arid feed. That night one of the best men, 
Tabeau, was killed by an Indian, having been shot 
with arrows not fkr from the camp. These Indians did 
not appear after this day. A day or two later the party 
met Jo Walker, the trapper, who now became guide 
for the expedition. With him were eight Americans, 
who, having started with the Spanish caravan, had 
heard that a party of white men were ahead, and had 
left the caravan and overtaken the explorers. On the 
way they had an encounter with the Diggers that had 
troubled Fremont, and killed two of them. 
May 23, they reached Sevier River, a tributary of the 
lake of the same name. Here they were obliged to 
ferry themselves across, in boats made of bundles of 
rushes tied together and bound to poles. Here, too, 
Badeau, a good man, was killed by accident; he dragged 
toward him a gun by the muzzle and the gun was dis- 
charged. Not far beyond they reached LJtah Lake, 
which Fremont imagined to be the southern end of 
Great Salt Lake. He was much puzzled, however, that 
the northern end of the lake should be a saturated 
solution of salt, while the southern end was fresh. It 
does not appear to have occurred to him that these 
were two different bodies of water. 
Having crossed the mountains, to the valley of White 
River, he reached, on the 3d of June, what he calls 
the winter fort, a trading post belonging to Mr. A. 
Roubideau, on the principal fork of the Uintah River. 
On the 7th, they found themselves on the verge of 
Brown’s Hole, a name well known to all old-timers in 
the west; and thirty years ago one of the greatest game 
countries in the world. Here, mountain sheep were 
found, and some killed. Two or three days later, buf- 
falo were killed; and we may imagine the delight with 
which the travelers found themselves once more back 
on the range where fat cow was to be had. From here 
they went north into the Three Parks, traveling in 
pleasant weather, through a country well watered, where 
grass and wood were to be had, and where buffalo, 
antelope and elk were hardly ever out of sight. On 
June 14, they were in New Park, now called North 
Park, going southward up the Platte River. A day or 
two later they came upon parties of Arapahoes and 
Sioux, and the camp was full of Indians. On June 22 
they crossed the mountains, and found themselves on 
the headwaters of the Arkansas. A day or two later 
they were present at a fight which took place between 
Utes and Arapahoes. . The Ute women urged the 
white men to take part in the fight; but they felt that 
it was no concern of theirs, and were quite uneasy lest 
they themselves should be attacked. They kept travel- 
ing, and before night had put fifteen miles between 
themselves and the Indian village, and fortified them- 
selves. They were now traveling rapidly down the 
Arkansas, meeting Indians constantly. Among these 
were a large village of Pawnees, who received the 
white men “with unfriendly rudeness and characteristic 
insolence which they never fail to display whenever 
they find an occasion for doing so with impunity.” 
The Pawnees, irideed, seem always subject to the ani- 
madversion of the early traveler. 
The party journeyed down the Arkansas for nearly 
300 miles, and on the last day of July reached the little 
town of Kansas, now Kansas City, on the Missouri. 
Fremont’s second journey was over. 
George Bird Grinnell. 
Floating Down the Mississippi. 
'Wiles of the Medicine Man, 
Until we got to Greenville, Miss., a week later, the 
Gambler was on our hands. He was coughing night 
and day, and it was the long, rasping cough of a weak- 
lunged man. He had broken down a wiry constitu- 
tion by riding the cattle range for many years, living 
months in the open air, sleeping with a blanket over 
him and a saddle under his head — his cheeks and his 
complexion betrayed the presence of lung weakness — 
the remark of the Medicine Man that we were 
likely to have a man “die on us.” 
We drifted down stream. On the second night we 
came to the big store boat, a 90-footer, run by a man 
named Young— a tall, long-armed individual who had 
a numerous family on board his boat, mostly children. 
He called his boat the Sunny South, although he was 
an Ohio river man. Once before he had dropped down 
as far as Greenville, but he did not know or like the 
lower river. The up-stream man has a horror for the 
lower reaches of the stream. “The further down you 
gets the wusser it is on this yere ole stream !” men said 
frequently. But to this the Medicine Man always gave 
the lie at the first opportunity. To his mind, the south’ 
was always pictured as a land of luxury and of ease. 
If the wind was cold, he said the south had nothing like 
that. Of poverty there was none, and one could “live 
like a gentleman down there.” The Gambler had never 
been down the river before, but the Medicine Man had 
made several trips. Now that he was sick, the Gambler 
blamed the Medicine Man for the rosy picture he had 
painted of the river life. ^ 
“You call this easy living!” the Gambler burst out 
one day as we lay waiting for the Young boat to start 
down stream with us, “I’m_ double blest if this wind 
ain’t colder right here than it is in Ohio!” 
So it seemed on some days. The wind was a chill. 
moist breeze when it swept down from the north. It 
seemed as though the weather was as blue as the gang. 
We were in Rowdy Bend, at Game’s landing. The 
storeboat man, with the natural propensity to get all 
he could out of every one, prevailed on the Medicine 
with him.- He had a log raft, caught by 
hnftmg’” which he wanted to get down to Greenville. 
The crew of his boat, consisting of a grown son and 
two boys, and himself, were not enough to handle the 
90ft. craft and the $60 worth of logs. He wanted us 
to stay with him “for company’s sake.” We remained. ■ 
I got some ducks as they flew over some low willows 
to a lake half a mile up stream, and saw countless other I 
birds. In wet or foggy weather, I presume Rowdy 
Bend to be as good a place for duck shooting as one i 
would wish for. On the river, it is noted among the ■ 
cabin boaters. - 
One curious phase of the Medicine Man’s character ' 
came out when he moved his boat down to the storeboat, ' 
and tied outside of the raft. Young asked him to move ■ 
down to help look after the raft. We moved down in i 
a wind storm, and tied up outside the raft, where the 
waves swept us against the logs in a way that made ': 
the boat pound as though falling to pieces. But it was 
an accommodation to the storeboat man, for we were ' 
handy in case the raft got to weaving or otherwise 
needed our care. We ran lines and hauled lines and tied '• 
lines for hours one day, as the exigencies demanded, 
our boat breaking the waves from the raft like a wave- 
break. 
nuts were selling at from i to 3 cents per pound. He 
began to give 5 cents in trade, and in two weeks he 
haa put on about 9,000 pounds of them. On top of his 
boat were bones, iron, ropes, bottles and other junk 
which he and his sons had gathered along the stream. 
He was going to Greenville, where he would take a 
tow up to Evansville, from which port he hailed 
Everything was salable or buyable, and the size of his 
boat gave him an opportunity to carry anything he 
wanted to take, whether railroad iron or a cotton gin 
works. Tradin’ makes me feel high-steppy, like a 
blind boss!” Young said, speaking of his business. 
W^e left the landing on Sunday, Feb. 14. The resolu- 
tion to start was made in true river fashion, on the spur 
of the moment. 
“Hit looks pretty to-day, don’t hit?” the Medicine 
Man remarked. 
“Yassir, yassir,” Young replied, nasally; “be a good 
day 10 floatin’. I ’low we could.” 
“I’d like to,” the Medicine Man said. 
“Mold’s well. Hay, you boys— we’re goin’ to pull 
out— watch them lines now!” 
With that, there was a great to do. The store 
boat had ropes leading to logs, stakes and anchors. They 
were gotten in and coiled down on the roof of the big 
cabin boat. The raft was untied, too, and our boat was 
ran in on the starboard side of the big boat, and the 
Gambler s ran along the same side and fastened just 
astern of ours. The Gambler took possession of the 
Medicine Man s bed, and coughed and sputtered by 
turns. We made quite a fleet — the long storeboat, our 
own craft and the Gambler’s, with the looft. raft float- 
ing nearby. The raft was kept independent, manned by 
two boys. The other three boats were handled by a 
great oar on the port side, and a rudder at the stern, 
ihe oar was a 45ft. sapling, arid the rudder a still longer 
one. A stroke of either required eight steps on the 
part of the oarsmen, and a stroke seemed to have no 
effect upon the great mass of stuff, amounting to dozens 
of tons. It was galley-slave work, handling those 
sweeps. Nevertheless, we worked out of the eddy, and 
the storeboat man, at the rudder, used the.wind and the 
current and the crew to such good purpose that we were 
soon floating away down stream with the “wind jes’ a- 
ca’min’ pretty” and the water showing only faint ruf- 
flings at intervals. 
As we came down the lower end of Rowdy Bend, the ■ 
Medicine Man called my attention to a caving bank I 
30 rods distant. 
“There’s the greatest institution in the South,” he ■ 
said. “See that hole, walled with bricks?” 
There was a cavity in the bank which looked like a ; 
big bottle with a small opening at the top and coming, 
to the shape of an egg-end at the bottom. It was I 
25ft. deep apparently. Nearby was the ruin of a fine • 
plantation. 
“I ain’t a river rat all the time,” the Medicine Man I 
said. “I clean cisterns for a reg’lar occupation. I clean . 
a cistern for $5, and many’s the day I’ve cleaned four , 
or five. That’s why I like the South. Them old : 
planters is easy money. My cistern cleaner is a i 
bucket, on the end of a long, folding handle. I poke 
the bucket down into a cistern, the plunger hits the ! 
bottom, and a cork comes out the top of the bucket. \ 
That lets the air out, and a valve at the bottom of the 
bucket lets the dead leaves, dust and dirt what’s in the' 
bottom come up into the bucket. When I lift the ' 
handle, the water shuts the valve and I pull the dirt 
off the bottom of the cistern to the surface. One 
bucketful, in warm weather, will show them plantation 
men they ought to have their cistern cleaned — Gee, but 
it does smell! Everybody down here has to drink out' 
of cisterns in the summer, and they don’t like to have 
the smell. They pay $5 quick._ But cistern cleaning: 
isn’t what it used to be. Italians have got so they* 
clean cistern for a dollar. I tell you it ain’t right to; 
let them foreigners come yere like this. They spoils': 
business.” ; 
The Gambler said that the trick of the cistern clean-* 
ing trade was to take a few buckets full off the bottom, ' 
and then hit the plunger on the side, instead of the bot- 
tom. The water that was caught in the bucket half! 
way to the bottom of the cistern was sweet and lacked' 
the cistern smell, compared to the water and dirt from: 
the very bottom. On producing the bucket full of sweetj 
water, the planter would be satisfied, and would pay^ 
the $5 without a murmur. 
We dropped down the river for two days, the wind! 
preventing us from going far each day. The Medicine; 
Man wanted to drop in at Luna, but he got past the, 
landing before he knew it, so he wanted to get to^ 
Greenville. Making a landing with the boats was a re-j 
markable operation. Young had a handy line nearly 
