Campaign against the Chow-chillas—The Favorite Hunting Ground—A Deer Hunt and a Bear Chase—An Accident and an Alarm—A Torch-light Pow-wow—Indians Discovered—Captain Boling’s Speech—Crossing of the San Joaquin—A Line of Battle, its Disappearance—Capture of Indian Village—Jose Rey’s Funeral-pyre—Following the Trail—A Dilemma—Sentiment and Applause—Returning to Camp—Narrow Escape of Captain Boling.
Major Savage now advised a vigorous campaign against the Chow-chillas. The stampeding of our captives was one of the incentives for this movement; or at least, it was for this reason that Captain Boling and his company most zealously advocated prompt action. The commissioners approved of the plan, and decided that as the meddlesome interference of these Indians prevented other bands from coming in, it was necessary, if a peace policy was to be maintained with other tribes, that this one be made to feel the power they were opposing; and that an expedition of sufficient strength to subdue them, should be ordered immediately to commence operations against them. Accordingly, a force composed of B. and C. companies, Boling’s and Dill’s, numbering about one hundred men, under command of Major Savage, started for the San Joaquin River. The route selected was by way of “Coarse Gold Gulch,” to the head waters of the Fresno, and thence to the North Fork of the San Joaquin.
The object in taking this circuitous route, was to sweep the territory of any scattered bauds that might infest it. 106 We made our first camp on the waters of “Coarse Gold Gulch,” in order to allow the scouts time to explore in advance of the command. No incident occurred here to claim especial notice, but in the morning, while passing them, I made a hasty examination of one of the “Figured Rocks” to the left of the trail.
I saw but little of interest, for at the time, I doubted the antiquity of the figures. Subsequently, in conversation with Major Savage he said that the figures had probably been traced by ancient Indians, as the present tribes had no knowledge of the representations. I afterwards asked Sandino and other Mission Indians concerning them, but none could give me any information. The scouts sent out were instructed to rendezvous near a double fall on the north fork of the San Joaquin in a little valley through which the trail led connecting with that of the north fork, as grass would there be found abundant.
Major Savage was familiar with most of the permanent trails in this region, as he had traversed it in his former prospecting tours. As we entered the valley selected for our camping place, a flock of sand-hill cranes rose from it with their usual persistent yells; and from this incident, their name was affixed to the valley, and is the name by which it is now known.
The scouts, who were watching on the trail below, soon discovered and joined us. “It is a little early for camping,” the Major said; “but at this season, good grass can only be found in the mountains in certain localities. Here there is an abundance, and soap root enough to wash a regiment.”
We fixed our camp on the West side of the little valley, about half a mile from the double falls. These falls had nothing peculiarly attractive, except as a designated point for a rendezvous. 107
The stream above the falls was narrow and very rapid, but below, it ran placidly for some distance through rich meadow land. The singularity of the fall was in its being double; the upper one only three or four feet, and the lower one, which was but a step below, about ten or twelve feet. In my examination of the locality, I was impressed with the convenience with which such a water-power could be utilized for mechanical purposes, if the supply of water would but prove a permanent one.
From this camp, new scouts were sent out in search of Indians and their trails; while a few of us had permission to hunt within a mile of camp. While picketing our animals, I observed the flock of sand-hill cranes again settling down some way above us, and started with Wm. Hays to get a shot at them. We were not successful in getting within range; having been so recently alarmed, they were suspiciously on the look out, and scenting our approach, they left the valley. Turning to the eastward, we were about entering a small ravine leading to the wooded ridge on the Northwest side of the Fork, when we discovered two deer ascending the slope, and with evident intention of passing through the depression in the ridge before us.
They were looking back on their trail, assurance enough that we had not been seen. We hurriedly crept up the ravine to head them off, and waited for their approach. Hays became nervous, and as he caught a glimpse of the leader, he hastily said, “Here they come—both of them—I’ll take the buck!” Assenting to his arrangement, we both fired as they rose in full view. The doe fell almost in her tracks. The buck made a bound or two up the ridge and disappeared. While loading our rifles Hays exclaimed, as if in disgust, “A miss, by jingoes! that’s a fact.” I replied, “not so, old fellow, you hit him hard; he switched his tail desperately; you will see him again.” We found him 108 dead in the head of the next ravine, but a few rods off. Hanging up our game to secure it until our return with horses, we started along the slope of the ridge toward camp. Hays was in advance, stopping suddenly, he pointed to some immense tracks of grizzlies, which in the soft, yielding soil appeared like the foot prints of huge elephants, and then hastily examining his rifle and putting a loose ball in his mouth (we had no fixed ammunition in those days, except the old paper cartridges), started on the tracks. At first I was amused at his excited, silent preparations and rapid step, and passively accompanied him. When we had reached a dense under-growth, into which the trail led, and which he was about to enter, I halted and said: “I have followed this trail as far as I design to go. Hays, it is madness for us to follow grizzlies into such a place as that.” Hays turned, came back, and said in an excited manner, “I didn’t suppose you would show the white feather with a good rifle in your hands; Chandler gives you a different character. You don’t mean to say you are afraid to go in there with me; we’ll get one or two, sure.”
I was at first inclined to be angry, but replied, “Hays, I am much obliged to you for the good opinion you have had of me, but I know what grizzlies are. I am afraid of grizzlies unless I have every advantage of them; and don’t think it would be any proof of courage to follow them in there.” Hays reached out his hand as he said: “If that is your corner stake, we will go back to camp.” We shook hands, and that question was settled between us. Afterwards Hays told of his experience among Polar bears, and I rehearsed some of mine among cinnamon and grizzly bears, and he replied that after all he thought “we had acted wisely in letting the latter remain undisturbed. When in the brush they seemed to know their advantage, and were more likely to attack, whereas at other times, they would 109 get out of your way, if they could.” I replied by asking: “Since you know their nature so well, why did you want to follow them into the brush?” He retorted, “Simply because I was excited and reckless, like many another man.”
Taking the back trail, we soon reached camp, and with our horses brought in the game before dark. While entering camp, several of our men rushed by with their rifles. Looking back across the open valley on our own trail, I saw a man running toward us as if his life depended on his speed. His long hair was fairly streaming behind as he rushed breathless into camp, without hat, shoes or gun. When first seen, the “boys” supposed the Chow-chillas were after him, but no pursuers appeared in sight. As soon as he was able to talk, he reported that he had left the squad of hunters he had gone out with, and was moving along the edge of a thicket on his way to camp, when he struck the trail of three grizzlies. Having no desire to encounter them, he left their trail, but suddenly came upon them while endeavoring to get out of the brush.
Before he could raise his rifle, they rushed toward him. He threw his hat at the one nearest, and started off at a lively gait. Glancing back, he saw two of them quarreling over his old hat; the other was so close that he dare not shoot, but dropped his gun and ran for life.
Fortunately, one of his shoes came off, and the bear stopped to examine and tear it in pieces, and here no doubt discontinued the chase, as he was not seen afterwards, though momentarily expected by the hunter in his flight to camp.
The hero of this adventure was a Texan, that was regarded by those who knew him best as a brave man, but upon this occasion he was without side arms, and, as he said, “was taken at a disadvantage.” The Major joked him a little upon his continued speed, but “Texas Joe” took it in good part, and replied that the Major, “or any other blank fool, 110 would have run just as he did.” A few of us went back with Joe, and found his rifle unharmed. The tracks of his pursuers were distinctly visible, but no one evinced any desire to follow them up.
We considered his escape a most remarkable one.
A little after dark all the scouts came in, and reported that no Indians had been seen, nor very fresh signs discovered, but that a few tracks were observed upon the San Joaquin trail.
The news was not encouraging, and some were a little despondent, but as usual, a hearty supper and the social pipe restored the younger men to their thoughtless gayety. My recollections bring to mind many pleasant hours around the camp-fires of the “Mariposa Battalion.” Many of the members of that organization were men of more than ordinary culture and general intelligence; but they had been led out from civilization into the golden tide, and had acquired a reckless air and carriage, peculiar to a free life in the mountains of California.
The beauty of the little valley in which we were camped had so attracted my attention, that while seated by the camp-fire in the evening, enjoying my meal, I spoke of it in the general conversation, and found that others had discovered a “claim” for a future rancho, if the subjection of the Indians should make it desirable. The scouts mentioned the fact of there being an abundance of game as far as they had been, but that of course they dare not shoot, lest the Indians might be alarmed. These men were provided with venison by Hays and myself, while many a squirrel, jack rabbit, quail and pigeon was spitted and roasted by other less fortunate hunters. Our deer were divided among immediate friends and associates, and Captain Boling slyly remarked that “the Major’s appetite is about as good as an Indian’s.” Major Savage seemed to enjoy the conversation 111 in praise of this region, and in reply to the assertion that this was the best hunting ground we had yet seen, said: “Where you find game plenty, you will find Indians not far off. This belt of country beats the region of the Yosemite or the Poho-no Meadows for game, if the Indians tell the truth; and with the exception of the Kern River country, it is the best south of the Tuolumne River. It abounds in grizzlies and cinnamon bears, and there are some black bears. Deer are very plenty, and a good variety of small game—such as crane, grouse, quail, pigeons, road-runners, squirrels and rabbits—besides, in their season, water fowl. This territory of the Chow-chillas has plenty of black oak acorns (their favorite acorn), and besides this, there are plenty of other supplies of bulbous roots, tubers, grasses and clover. In a word, there is everything here for the game animals and birds, as well as for the Indians.”
I now thought I had a turn on the Major, for he was quite enthusiastic, and I said: “Major, you have made out another Indian Paradise; I thought you a skeptic.” With a smile as if in remembrance of our conversation in the Yosemite, he replied: “Doc, I don’t believe these Chow-chilla devils will leave here without a fight, for they seem to be concentrating; but we are going to drive them out with a ‘flaming brand.’ I think we shall find some of them to-morrow, if we expect good luck.” Turning to Captain Boling he continued, “Captain, we must make an early move in the morning; and to-morrow we must be careful not to flush our game before we get within rifle-shot. You had better caution the guards to be vigilant, for we may have a visit from their scouts to-night, if only to stampede our horses.”
Taking this as a hint that it was time to turn in, I rolled myself in my blankets. My sleep was not delayed by any thoughts of danger to the camp,—though I would have 112 admitted the danger of loss of animals—but I was awakened by a stir in camp, and from hearing the Major called.
Sandino, the Mission Indian interpreter, had just come in from head-quarters, guiding an escort that had been sent for the Major. The Sergeant in command handed a letter to Savage, who, after reading it at the camp fire, remarked to Captain Boling, “the commissioners have sent for me to come back to head-quarters; we will talk over matters in the morning, after we have had our sleep.” He was snoring before I slept again.
In the morning Major Savage stated that he had been sent for by the Commissioners to aid in treating with a delegation of Kah-we-ah Indians sent in by Capt. Kuykendall, and regretted to leave us just at that time, when we were in the vicinity of the game we were after. That we would now be under the command of Captain Boling, etc. The Major made us a nice little speech. It was short, and was the only one he ever made to us. He then drew an outline map of the country, and explained to Captain Boling the course and plans he had adopted, but which were to be varied as the judgment of the Captain should deem to his advantage. He repeatedly enjoined the Captain to guard against surprise, by keeping scouts in advance and upon flank.
He then said he should leave Sandino with us, and told me that Spencer and myself would be expected to act as interpreters, otherwise Captain Boling could not make Sandino available as a guide or interpreter, as he cannot speak a word of English.
“As surgeon to the expedition, I will see that you are paid extra. The endurance of those appointed, has been tried and found wanting; therefore I preferred to leave them behind.” The Major then left us for head-quarters, which he would reach before night. 113
Captain Boling crossed the North Fork below the falls, but after a few horses had passed over the trail, the bottom land became almost impassable. As I had noticed an old trail that crossed just above the falls, I shouted to the rear guard to follow me, and started for the upper crossing, which I reached some little distance in advance. Spurring my mule I dashed through the stream. As she scrambled up the green sod of the slippery shore I was just opening my mouth for a triumphant whoop, when the sod from the overhanging bank gave way under the hind feet of the mule, and, before she could recover, we slipped backwards into the stream, and were being swept down over the falls. Comprehending the imminent peril, I slipped from my saddle with the coil of my “riata” clasped in hand (fortunately I had acquired the habit of leaving the rope upon the mule’s neck), and, by an effort, I was able to reach the shore with barely length of rope enough to take one turn around a sappling and then one or two turns around the rope, and by this means I was able to arrest the mule in her progress, with her hind legs projecting over the falls, where she remained, her head held out of the water by the rope. I held her in this position until my comrades came up and relieved me, and the mule from her most pitiable position. This was done by attaching another rope, by means of which it was drawn up the stream to the shore, where she soon recovered her feet and was again ready for service. Not so my medicines and surgical instruments, which were attached to the saddle.
While Captain Boling was closing up his scattered command, I took the opportunity to examine my damaged stores and wring out my blankets. Being thus engaged, and out of sight of the main column, they moved on without us. I hastily dried my instruments, and seeing that my rifle had als............