In a moment, the Indians were in sight, coming over the hill at full speed. When they saw the wagons, they gave the war whoop. This scared the women, and they began to cry and scream and cling to their children. Jim jumped up on a wagon tongue and shouted at the top of his voice "For God's sake, women, keep still, or you will all be killed."
This had the effect that he desired, and there was not a word or sound out of them. When the Indians were within a hundred yards from us, their yelling was terrible to hear.
Jim now said, "Now boys, give it to them, and let the red devils have something to yell about," and I never saw men stand up and fight better than these emigrants. They were fighting for their mothers' and wives' and children's lives, and they did it bravely. In a few minutes the fight was over, and what was left of the Indians got away in short order. We did not lose a man, and only one was slightly wounded. There were sixty-three dead warriors left on the field, and we captured twenty horses.
It was six miles from here to the nearest water, so we had to drive that distance to find a place to camp. We reached the camping ground a little before sunset. After attending to the teams and stationing the guards for the night Cap't. Davis came to Jim and me and said, "The ladies want to give you a reception tonight."
Jim said, "What for?" Davis replied, "Saving our lives from those horrible savages." Jim answered, "Why, durn it all, ain't that what you are paying us for? We just done our duty and no more, as we intend to do all the way to California."
By this time there was a dozen women around us. With the others was a middle-aged woman. She said, "Now, you men with the buck-skin clothes, come and take supper with us. It is now all ready."
Jim said, "Come, Willie, let's go and eat, for I am hungry and tired too."
While we were eating supper, three or four young ladies came up to us and asked me if I didn't want to dance.
"The boys are cleaning off the ground now, and I want you for my first pardner," she said with a smile and a blush. Jim said, "Will can't dance anything but the scalp dance." One of the girls said, "What kind of a dance is that?"
Jim replied, "If the Indians had got some of your scalps this afternoon you would have known something about it by this time."
Jim told them that when the Indians scalped a young girl, they took the scalp to their wigwam and then gave a dance to show the young squaws what a brave deed they had done, "and all you girls had better watch out that they don't have some of your scalps to dance around before you get to California; but if you wish us to, Will and I will dance the scalp dance tonight, so you can see how it is done."
When they had the ground all fixed for the dance, Jim and I took our handkerchiefs and put them on a couple of sticks, stuck the sticks into the ground and went through the Indian scalp dance, making all the hideous motions with jumps and screams, loud enough to start the hair from its roots, after which Jim explained to them this strange custom, telling them that if any of them was unfortunate enough to fall into the Indians' hands this was the performance that would be had around their scalps.
The girls said with a shudder they had seen enough of that kind of dancing without the Indians showing them. The lady who had invited us to supper said, "Now girls, you see what these men have done for us, they have saved our lives, and do you realize the obligation we are under to them? Now let us do everything we can for their comfort until we reach California."
And I must say I never saw more kind-hearted people than these men and women were to us all the way, on this long and dangerous journey.
We had no more trouble with the Indians until we had crossed Green river. We were now in the Ute country. At this time the Utes were considered to be one of the most hostile tribes in the West. That night Jim asked me what route I thought best to take, by the way of Salt Lake or Landers Cut Off. I said, "Jim, Landers Cut Off is the shortest and safest route from the fact that the Indians are in the southern part of the territory at this time of year, and I do not believe we shall have much more trouble with them on this trip." Which proved to be true. We saw no more Indians until we reached the Humbolt river. Just above the Sink of Humbolt about the middle of the afternoon I saw quite a band of Indians heading directly for the train. I signaled Jim to corral, which he did at once.
In a few moments they were upon us. As we were out on an open prairie, we had a good sight of the Indians before they reached us; I saw by the leader's dress that it was a chief that was leading them. His head dress was composed of eagles' feathers, and he rode some thirty or forty yards ahead of the other warriors. When in gun shot of me I fired at him and brought him down. When he fell from his horse the rest of the Indians wheeled their horses and fled, but the chief was the only one that fell. As soon as they were gone I took the scalp off the dead chief's head. When we went into camp that evening, Jim told the emigrants what a great thing I had done in shooting the chief. "There is no knowing how many lives he saved by that one shot in the right time."
Then all the emigrants gathered around me to see the scalp of the Indian; they had never seen such a sight before; each of the young ladies wanted a quill from the Indian's head dress; and they asked me what I would take for one of them; I told them the quills were not for sale.
At this time the lady who had invited Jim and me to eat with her so many times came up to us, and she said, "Girls, I can tell you how you can get these quills." They all asked at once, "How is that, aunty?"
"Each one of you give him a kiss for a quill," she laughed, and of all the blushing I ever saw the young girls that surrounded me beat the record. Jim grinned and said, "I'll be dog goned if I don't buy the scalp and the feathers and take all the kisses myself."
This made a general laugh. I told Jim that he was too selfish, and that I would not share the kisses with him, that I would give the scalp to him and the feathers to the elder lady, and she could divide the feathers among the girls. The girls clapped their hands and shouted, "Good! good!"
Jim said that was just his luck, he was always left out in the cold.
In a few days we were on the top of the Sierra Nevada mountains. We told the emigrants that they were entirely out of danger and did not need our services any longer, so we would not put them to any more expense by going further with them. As this was Saturday evening the emigrants proposed going into camp until Monday morning and that Jim and I should stay and visit with them. We accepted the invitation, and Sunday was passed in pleasant converse with these most agreeable people, and I will say here that of all the emigrants I ever piloted across the plains none ever exceeded these men and women in politeness and good nature, not only to Jim and me, but to each other, for through all that long and trying journey there was no unkindness shown by any of them, and if we would have accepted all the provisions they offered us it would have taken a pack train to have carried it through. Every lady in the train tried to get up some little extra bite for us to eat on the way back. The reader may imagine our surprise when Monday morning came and we saw the amount of stuff they brought to us. Jim said, "Why ladies we haven't any wagon to haul this stuff, and we have only one pack horse and he can just pack our blankets and a little more. Besides, we won't have time to eat these goodies on the road. Supposing the Indians get after us? We would have to drop them and the red skins would get it all."
We now packed up and were ready to put out. We mounted our horses, bid them "good bye" and were off.
Nothing of interest occurred until we got near Green river. Here we met Jim Beckwith and Bob Simson. Jim Bridger and I had just gone into camp when they rode up. After they had shaken hands with us Jim Beckwith said, "Boys, you are just the parties we are looking for."