Part 2 (1/2)

After getting across this desert stretch, we came to the banks of the Carson River, which we were to follow for many miles to the borders of California. When we reached Carson River, we came to a trader's pound, constructed of wagon tires and log chains. It was about the size of an ordinary city lot. There were tires lengthwise and crosswise, hind wheel tires, front wheel tires and log chains, bound together in all kinds of shapes. There were tons of steel in that fence. We came across another pound on the Carson River, near the Sierra Nevada Mountains, built of logs. The logs were 100 feet or over in length and had notches cut in them. These logs were placed in two rows and were crossed by small logs resting in the notches. It was built high enough so that stock could not jump over.

One night when we were afraid the Indians would come in on us, a double guard was put on duty. Four men stood guard in the fore part of the night and four in the after part. The eight men to do duty were all the men in my mess. Uncle said that the bacon was getting low and that he wanted some one of our mess, to get up early and help kill a beef. I told him to have some of the men in the other mess to help, as we would be on guard duty all night. Uncle said, ”All right.”

The men of my mess had killed all the beeves and mutton up to that time.

We did not care, nor did we think much about it, as one of our men was a butcher. The next morning uncle called for some one to get up and help him kill a beef. He called the second and third time, and no one got up and he said, ”If no one will get up and help, you will do without meat.”

Two of the men in my mess said, ”If the other fellows will not help, we will.”

I did not help as I was willing to do without meat rather than help after being on guard about all night. When I got up, I went over to the other camp to see what was the matter and why they would not help to kill the beef. They had all gone to look after the stock except John and Tom Brooks. Tom, the cook, did not have to help with the other work. I asked, ”John, why did not you fellows get up this morning and help uncle?”

He looked at me, wrinkled up his face, swore and said as hateful as he could, ”You will be a good deal prettier than you are, before I will help kill a beef.”

”Johnny,” I replied, ”If you don't propose to do your part, you might get a dose you would not like so well.”

I thought I would go back to my camp and say nothing more about it. I started off and had gone about a rod, when John said, ”Now you go off to your own camp, or I will put Tom at you.”

I turned around and looked at him and remarked, ”You low lived insignificant scoundrel, you will put Tom at me?”

”Yes, and if you don't go to your own home, I will get at you,” Tom cut in.

”You big necked, nigerfied, curly-headed villian, you will get at me?” I replied.

At that he came running toward me and as he came near, he ducked his head to b.u.t.t me in the stomach. When I saw that, I ran backwards a little to kill the shock and I reached down and caught him in the cheek, gave him a jerk, and he fell on his back. He fell near the hind wheel of a wagon. He pulled himself up by holding to the wheel and I got him by the throat and pushed him back between the wheel and the bed, and beat his face and head like he did poor Jim Greek and gave him some for Nailor and some for abusing aunt, and some for jumping on to me. When I got through, he had a plenty and the great fighter was badly whipped and he had not given me a scratch.

This was the first fight I had ever had and I found out afterwards that he had told the boys, that if any of his mess helped kill the beef, they would have had him to whip first. Aunt saw the commotion and called for me to come to their camp fire and get my breakfast. She said, ”I am going to give you the best breakfast you ever had on the plains, for whipping that low lived, good for nothing, Tom Brooks.”

I ate breakfast with aunt--was the best meal on the plains and the only time I had eaten with her. Tom Brooks behaved after that.

One morning we missed a cow out of the herd. Several of us went to find her. We hunted for quite a while and finally all came back to camp with the exception of my brother, Crawford Bailey and Wint Crumley. There was a willow thicket along the river and they got out of sight of us. They had found the trail of the cow and followed it. The camp had moved on down the trail while George Bailey had taken his gun and went on foot to kill an antelope. While hunting on the side of the trail, he was surprised to see Crawford and Wint running their horses around a bend in the river. He made for the trail just in time to catch one of the horses by the tail and by that means, kept up with the fleeing men. The Indians who were after them, tried to cut them off, but when they came in sight of the camp, they gave up the chase and disappeared. The two boys had followed the track of the cow into a willow thicket and they came across the Indians with a cow's hide stretched across poles, sc.r.a.pping it ready for tanning. The Indians saw them and gave chase, but the fleetness of the horses and George's lucky hold on the tail of the horse, saved their scalps.

A few nights after this incident, we had to drive late to get to where there was a good place to camp. It was dusk when we camped. We had to turn off to the right of the main trail and the river bent off to the north and I think it was a quarter of a mile from the main trail to where we camped. We had built our fires and were just ready to commence getting supper, when we heard the Indians begin holloing, ”Show shony, show shony, humbugen, humbugen oss cawaw cawaw, cawowaw cawowaw cawowaw cawaw cawaw.”

The first time they holloed this, uncle Joshua Bailey said, ”There! We are going to be attacked. That is the war whoop. Put out the fires and corral the wagons.”

The wagons were placed in a circle, running the tongues under each other so we could get inside and protect ourselves from their arrows as much as possible. When we got that done, which was in short order, he said, ”All hands load your guns and your revolvers and have your knives ready.”

We had been so long on the road that everybody had become careless. Some of the guns had not been used for a long time and were rusty and others had no bullets. Some had to prepare their guns, while others tried to run bullets. We had what we called ladles to melt lead in. They were made of wooden pieces split out of oak or some other kind of hard timber, four square, with one end hewed round for the handle, the other end, that is, the square end, had a hole cut down in with the corner of the ax. We would put lead in this ladle and put coals of fire in on the lead and blow the coals with our breath, and which would not make much light.

Joel Bailey, my cousin, had run off from home when a small boy, got on a steam boat at Ripley, Ohio, worked his pa.s.sage as dish washer, and had gone to Wisconsin, where my three uncles were. While there, Joel got acquainted with the Indians and their ways more than I did, but I had got pretty well acquainted by this time myself.

Aunt Susan Bailey was crying and talking to uncle and saying, ”O, Bailey, why did you bring us all out here to be killed by the Indians.”

”We had treaties and I did not think they would bother us,” replied uncle.

Bellry Bailey, their eldest daughter, was of age, and Rachel Ann, the next daughter, was nearly of age, together with Aunt Susan and the rest of the little boys and girls of the camp were crying, and there in the utter darkness, it was hard to tell who were or were not crying.

Joel Bailey, I knew, was a coward when he was sober, but when under the influence of liquor, he was not afraid of anything. All at once he holloed out, ”If any other man will go with me, we will go out and see what those fellows want.”

I thought he was doing it for bluff, so I said, ”I'll go with you.”