The Life & Legacy of William F. Drannan. William F. Drannan

      CHAPTER VI.

       Table of Contents

      TWO BOYS RIDE TO THE CITY OF MEXICO. ELEVEN HUNDRED MILES OF TRIAL, DANGER AND DUTY—A GIFT HORSE.—THE WIND RIVER MOUNTAINS.

      It was now the spring of 1850. I was eighteen years old and beginning to think myself a man. Uncle Kit asked me to go to the City of Mexico, saying that he owed a man there two hundred and fifty dollars, and wished to pay him. He also told me that he would have Juan, the Mexican boy, accompany me on the journey, but cautioned me not to let any one know that I had money. "For," said he, "them Mexican guerrillas would kill you if they knew you had money about you."

      The reader can fancy two boys at the age of eighteen, starting out on a trip of eleven hundred miles, over a wild country, with no settlement except hostile Indians and Mexicans, who are worse than Indians if they know a person has money about him. At that time there were no roads across the country in that direction; nothing but a trail—a part of the way not even that—and the whole country full of Mexican guerrillas—or, as we would term them, Mexican robbers—who made it a business to murder people whom they suspected of having money, and who would even massacre whole trains of emigrants, take what money they might have, their provisions and clothing, burn their wagons and drive their stock away. The fact is that many of the depredations committed in those days, for which the Indians were blamed, were done by those fiendish Mexicans.

      When the time arrived for starting and we were mounted, Uncle Kit,

       Johnnie West and Mr. Hughes came out to bid us good-bye.

      Johnnie West said: "Well, I am afraid I shall never see you again, for those Mexican guerrillas are worse than Indians, especially when they think a traveler has money about him."

      All this helped to put me on my guard, and I didn't even tell Juan that I had money with me.

      We started on our journey with two saddled horses and one pack- horse each. We met numerous little bands of Navajoe Indians, but they being on good terms with the whites, gave us no trouble, whatever. We also met numerous little squads of Mexican guerrillas, but they not suspecting two boys as young as we were with having money, did not disturb us. Uncle Kit had sent the shabbiest looking horses along that he had, in order to deceive them. Every band of Mexicans that we met on our trip would ask us where we were from, where we were going and our business. I always told them that I was from Taos, and was going to the City of Mexico to see a friend, and they would pass on.

      The first river we came to, Juan asked me if I could swim. I told him that I did not know, as I had never had a trial. We stripped down, tied our clothing about our shoulders and mounted our horses again.

      I wanted Juan to take the lead and let me drive the horses after him, but he thought we had best ride side by side and let the pack-animals follow, so in case of accident we could help each other. We made it across safe, and from this time on we never hesitated at a stream.

      We were thirty-one days making the trip to the City of Mexico.

      I found Mr. Reed at his residence and paid the two hundred and fifty dollars to him. He was much astonished at Uncle Kit sending two boys eleven hundred miles to pay so small a debt, and said that he had not expected to get the money until such time as Carson might be coming that way on other business, for it was so far that he would not have gone after it and taken the chances of crossing the country between the City of Mexico and Taos, as we had done, for the two hundred and fifty dollars.

      But Uncle Kit owed this money and had agreed to pay it at a certain time, and he, like many other frontiersman, valued his word more than he did his gold.

      We laid over two days at the City of Mexico in order to let our horses rest. The day before we were to start, Mr. Reed, who had invited us to his residence to board while in the City, went out to where our horses were, and seeing that one of the horses had a sore back, told me that he would make me a present of a horse that, if I took good care of, would be able to carry me the entire trip.

      I named this horse Mexico, and as will be seen later, he proved to be a noble saddle-horse, which I kept and rode for seven years.

      We made the trip home somewhat quicker than we did on our way out, being better acquainted with the country, and so could make better time.

      We were just two months making the round trip, arriving at Taos two weeks sooner than Uncle Kit had expected us. Johnnie West and Mr. Hughes were glad to see us return, for it was more than they expected.

      By the time my panther had grown to be quite large, and was glad to see me.

      On my return to Taos I learned that Uncle Kit and Jim Bridger had formed a co-partnership, for the purpose of trapping the coming winter in the Wind River mountains, which were about seven hundred miles from Taos, and had employed Johnnie West, Charlie Jones and Jake Harrington to trap for them, and in a few days after my return from the City of Mexico we made the start with thirty-two pack-animals, besides our saddle-horses.

      Nothing happening worthy of note on our way out, we arrived at our proposed trapping ground, and found plenty of beaver and plenty of fresh Indian sign as well, but the Indians were not apt to give us any trouble at this season of the year, more than to run our horses off, as they would prefer to let trappers alone until spring and then kill them and take their furs.

      We established our two camps about four miles apart, and kept our horses in the valley between the two camps; there was an abundance of grass, plenty of game and no end to the beaver. In fact, to take it on the whole, it seemed that this was going to be the loveliest place to spend the winter that we had ever struck, and the boys were all highly elated over their new winter quarters. We had only been in our trapping field about two weeks when Uncle Kit went out one morning to kill a deer and to look after the horses. He had not gone far when he looked across the little valley and saw an Indian driving off our horses. Being in gunshot of the Indian, he fired at him and brought him to the ground. When Uncle Kit returned to camp, he said:

      "Boys, I am afraid we have made a mistake in coming here to trap this winter; we must be near the Blackfoot Indians, for I just killed one that was driving our horses off, and I just happened to see him in time to catch him with old Blackleg." At that time the Blackfoot Indians were considered worst tribe in the entire Northwest.

      I went at once to the other camp to notify Jim Bridger and his crowd that they might be on their guard. Bridger said he had been expecting it, as he had seen fresh Indian sign out on the ridges some days before, but thought it was getting so late now that they would not give us any more trouble this winter, but that we would have to get out early the next spring.

      We stayed here and trapped all winter, with splendid success. Jim Bridger took twelve beaver from his string of traps every twenty- four hours for seven successive days, being the greatest catch I ever knew from one string of traps.

      About the last of March we commenced making preparations to leave the mountains, for fear the Indians might come and clean us out.

      The day before we were to start there came a heavy fall of snow, and we were not able to move until the first of April, when we made another start for Santa Fe, going via Sweetwater, and we had enough furs to load our entire train.

      The second day after leaving camp we were attacked, about noon, by twenty Indians of the Blackfoot tribe, who entertained us for about