The Awakening Of The Desert Part 8

This Lodge Pole Creek ford became of some interest to overland travelers by reason of the fact that some years later the old Oregon trail, which we were still pursuing, was here crossed by the Union Pacific Railroad, which up to this point along much of its course was built exactly upon the trail marked by the first Mormon emigrants in 1847, following many of its windings. This fact suggests a striking comparison between the early and the later modes of travel. Our party, moving as steadily as possible, had consumed twenty-five days in reaching this point from the Missouri River. Ben Holliday's stages, when they followed the route that we were taking, reached Lodge Pole on the fifth day, being driven continuously night and day with relays of horses every ten or fifteen miles. It is now reached in twelve hours by express trains.

Our next day's journey after leaving Pole Creek was over a series of ridges along an excellent roadway the great part of the distance. The highest points disclosed fine views of the rocky cliffs along the North Platte. There is a marked change in the general features of the country as compared with those seen along the Platte valley east of Julesburg.

The road showed that it had been traveled but little. We were able to make a drive of twenty-eight miles, reaching Mud Spring in the evening.

Why this tiny fountain should be so denominated is unknown and unknowable; it was the first clear, living water that we had seen west of the Missouri River, except in a few wells at stage stations. In February of the preceding year this spot was the scene of some sharp fights with the Indians.

And now there lay immediately before us the longest and most difficult drive of the trip, concerning which we had secured much information. It would conduct us across a wide stretch of sandy desert in which there was no pasturage; and forty long miles must be laid behind in order to reach a camp ground where there was any grazing whatever for horses. The preceding day had been intensely hot, and there were no indications of any immediate change in the temperature. To secure the benefit of the cooler early hours we were off at exactly three o'clock in the morning.

Near where we entered the dreary waste of sand we parallelled for a short distance a small stream, concerning which we had been advised that it was the only desirable place for lunch. We had prepared some cold boiled beans, bacon and coffee, which we pulled from the mess box, and as the rays of the sun had now become very oppressive, we prepared to drop down upon the hot sand in the shade of a wagon. The Deacon protected himself somewhat from the sands by sitting upon a rolled-up blanket. Others remained standing or dropped upon their knees, but Pete remarked that as the tallest and largest man in the party he was fairly ent.i.tled to a certain high mound of sand of convenient shape, which he found well in the shade. These piles were formed by some little clumps of grease wood, or similar growth, which the sand had drifted round and in many cases entirely covered, as a little obstruction will sometimes collect a small snow drift.

Pete, who was a tall, powerful, but rather slow-moving individual, dropped wearily and heavily upon the sand heap which he proposed to occupy by right of squatter sovereignty. Although it was a long distance from the seat of Pete's "pants" to the seat of his intelligence, yet the information was quickly transmitted to his brain that something was under him that was not all sand. With a sudden yell, as if stung by a serpent, he leaped into the air with agility and enthusiasm of which he had hitherto been deemed altogether incapable. Peter swore. He then inspected the sand pile, while we watched him with dismay, being ignorant of the cause of his frenzy. Reaching out at arm's length, he cautiously poked the mound with his whip stock and found, not a rattlesnake, but only an oval-shaped cactus slightly concealed beneath the sand. Its long spines as sharp as needles and almost uncountable in number, under the weight of Pete's body had penetrated his flesh no one yet knows how far. As the punctured parts could not easily be examined by the sufferer, his companion, Noah, performed the operation of removing such of the needles as were visible. Many without doubt remained, for during the next two or three days Peter walked with short steps, _staccato_, and rarely indulged in a sitting posture.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JAIL ROCK AND COURT HOUSE ROCK]

The stream near which we had halted afforded the last opportunity to obtain water until we should complete the long drive across the sands.

Our horses were fed with fine wheat flour, the only nourishment which we could secure to stay them through the day. After having filled the water kegs and canteens from the stream, the difficult march was continued.

The day was so intensely hot that nearly all members of the party walked to relieve the perspiring horses. The country we were traversing was an area of loose, dry sand. Its surface was marked by small mounds and ridges of sand, the ridges all trending in one direction and evidently drifted with the prevailing wind behind a clump of stunted grease wood, a small shrub which grows on alkaline soils and, like other desert growths, is stiff and stubby,--possibly a provision of nature to preserve its scant foliage from being browsed; shrubs so protected remained, a survival of the fittest. Some such provision is certainly necessary to protect the plant life of the desert in its struggle for existence. The surface of the sand was slightly hardened by a thin scale, possibly due to solidification in drying, after a pa.s.sing shower had moistened the salts in the sand. The scale in many places prevented the wheels from sinking deeply. The wagons were, therefore, scattered along side by side, because a track once followed was deeply cut in the ruts. Numerous lizards (swifts) glided along the parched surface of the Sahara and were the only specimens of animal life that I observed there with any interest.

An experience on this grease wood desert may have prompted the inquiry ascribed to one of our statesmen, who is alleged to have asked in 1843 concerning this western territory, "What do we want with the vast worthless area, this region of savages and wild beasts, of deserts of shifting sands and whirlwinds of dust, of cactus and prairie dogs?"

In spite of the oppressive heat of the day and the long tramp still before us, Ben, who was tough and untiring, proposed a little side tramp by way of diversion. For many miles we had observed the majestic outlines of the conspicuous landmark well known as Court House Rock. As our course finally approached within two miles of its cliffs, Ben and I determined to secure a view from its summit. That remarkable monument stands in solitary grandeur upon the barren plain; it has, however, a worthy a.s.sociate not far away, another prominence known as the Jail; these high bluffs are appropriately named. From a distance Court House Rock has the appearance of some vast, ancient ruin. The grandeur and beauty of its outlines and the majesty of its proportions have made it a notable landmark for all travelers who pa.s.s that way. We found its ascent comparatively easy, but the descent was somewhat difficult because of the projecting terraces which, though of hard material, were cracked, leaving projections that could not be depended upon for support. Although we might well have saved our energies for the hot tramp through the sands which lay before us, we obtained views of the "bad lands" to the west, which were very impressive.

It seemed as if in the Creation there had been a vast amount of crude material left over, which had been dumped into that waste, but the essential elements of life were wholly absent. As far as could be seen through the clear, hot, and quivering air of noonday everything was silent and dead. On reaching the trail Ben and I followed the track of our wagons in the white sand, which glowed like a furnace, and finally overtook our party, which was slowly dragging along with occasional pauses for rest.

We had seen no person during the day except members of our own party.

Beyond the border of the sandy waste I dropped back again, but this time with Noah, who was also wearily trudging along now over a more hilly and broken country toward the north Platte. We were surprised to see approaching us from the north, as if about to cross our course, a long-haired individual, rather tough in appearance, with whom we exchanged a few commonplace words, with the usual question as to what he was "driving at" in that country, but obtained no definite information.

Having been informed that there were numerous rattlesnakes in the hilly country, I aimed a question concerning snakes at the presence that stood before us. Something in his appearance led me to believe that he, if anyone, would be informed on the subject. "Yes," he replied, "there's right smart of rattlesnakes around here." Simply to continue the conversation, we asked if he had killed many. Before making any reply he slowly hauled from deep down in his "pants" pocket a plug of tobacco, and inserting it between his big teeth chewed off a section that proved to be large enough to interfere somewhat with his articulation. He then stood silent for a moment, while he transferred the tobacco from one cheek to another. The cynical expression upon his face impressed us with the idea that he had all the qualities required to make a first cla.s.s stranger. He then related an alleged experience with a rattlesnake.

Although not inclined to accept it as exactly true in all particulars, we offer it here not quite in _ipsissimis verbis_ but substantially as given, simply for what it may be worth as a problematic contribution to natural history. His thesis at the outset was, that if one gains the affection of a rattlesnake through some special act of kindness the serpent may on some occasions afterward express its profound grat.i.tude.

He said that his "pardner" Jim, once upon a time, discovered a six-foot rattler lying fastened under a rock which had rolled upon it while it was lying torpid in the sun. Instead of taking advantage of the reptile while it was in this helpless condition, he carefully released it, and thereafter the snake on many occasions manifested indications of its grat.i.tude, and became a veritable pet, following the man wherever it was permitted to go, and guarding him faithfully. Jim, therefore, called it Annie, because he came from Indiana.

On being awakened one night, Jim, observing that Annie was missing from her usual place near his bed, hastily arose to discover the cause of her absence. Lighting a candle, he opened an outside door of the ranch house and soon heard Annie rattling her tail. He then discovered that the snake had run a skulking Indian into the other room, and was holding him there a prisoner, while her tail, which was sticking out of the window, was rattling like a dinner bell, calling Jim to come in and help kill the "cuss."

We asked the red-headed, pink-eyed, big-mustached rancher if this was really a true story, and if his own personal reputation would give credit to his statements. He replied that he had lived in those parts for seven years and had never yet been lynched. This was surely to be accepted in that elementary waste as an evidence of good moral character. He admitted that he had a few horses off in the hills which he could part with in case a prospective buyer was anxious to get some fresh ones, but we did not ask him to produce any evidence of his t.i.tle to the animals. The conclusion of this instructive and interesting incident afforded the narrator a much needed opportunity to discharge from his mouth a large quant.i.ty of tobacco juice, which for a considerable time had interfered with his enunciation.

His reference to the Indian led us to ask if many Sioux were now in that country. In reply to this question he hesitated a few moments, while with a hand in each of his pockets he turned his eyes in various directions as if the subjects of which he was to speak might be concealed in some of the gullies near-by. He finally said there were right smart of 'em along the North Platte here a while ago, "but I guess most of them have gone up to Laramie. They don't bother me very much, but the other day my pardner was out and I was all alone in the shanty and my horse was. .h.i.tched in front. I went out the door for something and there were six Indians a-coming up in a hurry. When they saw me three of 'em shot at me but didn't fetch me. I ain't no sucker with a gun, but I only had one six-shooter in my belt and knowed it was no time for fooling." Accompanying his words with action showing how he did it, he added, "I jerked out my gun jest so, and give it to 'em, and there was jest enough cartridges in it to go around, but they went around."

"Do you mean to say that you didn't miss a shot?" asked Noah. "Oh, I'm all right with a gun; them Injuns won't bother me any more." Astounded at the man's coolness and bravery, I asked if the Indians had guns. He replied that they had bows, but they started in at pretty long range for bows and arrows.

At that moment we heard three or four rifle shots which attracted our attention toward the direction which our train had taken. The train was now out of our sight. We both concluded that some of the boys had discovered game. Turning again toward the spot where a minute before had stood the daring hero of Grease Wood Desert, we discovered that he had vanished and no sign or trace of him was visible. The only possible avenue by which he could disappear and still remain in the flesh was by a narrow, crooked ravine near the ill-defined trail. We hastened to its margin, but no sight or sound that came to our senses gave us the slightest clue to the manner of his transformation or disappearance. His abiding place may have been either in Avernus or down the ravine, for, although possibly not dark enough, the latter was certainly hot enough that day for the former in climate.

Noah and I had been so much delayed that we hastened on our course walking side by side, overtaking our wagons before they reached the valley of the North Platte near Brown's ranch, where we camped. We were there informed that our teams, which were much f.a.gged, had traveled forty miles during the day. The rifle shots that we heard had been directed at jack rabbits.

On our side trip I suffered not so much from fatigue as from an acute headache, which developed toward the close of the day as a result of the intense heat and of the miserable food we had eaten. Fred had brought with him a few simple drugs from a store in which he was interested at home. Among them was tincture of camphor. He administered a dose of the stuff, which immediately caused all the mechanism of my stomach to a.s.sert its rights in the most vehement manner. It expelled everything except the camphor, which, being no longer held in solution, solidified into a chunk. At times it rose into my throat for an instant and then gradually settled down again to resume its activities. The stomach being unable to expel the camphor gum then endeavored to expel itself in its entirety, but as the organ was fastened down in some mysterious fashion, it could only turn itself wrong side out and twist itself in the most unsatisfactory manner. The remainder of the drug supply was then placed at my disposal, but I declined longer to permit my stomach to be used as a chemical laboratory in which to test drugs of unknown qualities. Not until the solidified gum had been expelled was there any domestic peace.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SCOTT'S BLUFF, SHOWING DOME ROCK IN THE DISTANCE]

Near the course that we had followed to this camp is the battle field where in 1855 General William S. Harney slaughtered the Brule Sioux Indians in a terrific fight in which 500 savages are said to have perished at what is known as Ash Hollow. Harney had served in the Black Hawk war and also in our war with Mexico.

On the following day we pa.s.sed Chimney Rock, visible for a great distance and a striking feature of the landscape. It is about 260 feet in height. Captain Howard Stansbury, an early traveler wrote of it: "This singular formation has been undoubtedly at one time a projecting shoulder of the main chain of bluffs bounding the valley of the Platte and has been separated from it by the action of water. That the shaft has been very much higher than at present is evident from the corresponding formation of the bluff, as well as from the testimony of all our voyagers, for whom it was for years a beacon visible for forty or fifty miles both up and down the river."

It was the opinion of Mr. James Bridger that this eminence had been reduced to its present height by lightning or some other energy of nature, from the change he observed in it on his return from one of his trips to St. Louis, for when he had pa.s.sed it on his way down, it was uninjured.

After still another long day's drive up the valley of the swift flowing North Platte, through patches of stunted sage brush and grease wood, we paused for the night. The terraced height of Scott's Bluffs loomed in the distance. Almost behind them, the glowing sun sank beneath the sharply defined horizon, and the shadows of night brought welcome relief after another day of intense heat.

CHAPTER XIII

The Mystery of Scott's Bluffs

As is well known, a wonderful story may be enfolded in the mute testimony of the hills and rocks, and far more enduring than ever written by human hands. Some of these interesting records, open to any observer, are as plainly written in the exposed cliffs of Scott's Bluffs as in any spot that I have known. Their location was noted upon the old maps partly perhaps because they had received a name in memory of the tragic death from starvation of a man who was deserted by his companions on Laramie Fork. Scott was too ill to continue his journey, and the entire party was dest.i.tute of provisions. He lived, however, to make his way alone to these Bluffs, where his remains were eventually found. The alt.i.tude of the Bluffs as given in the Government survey is 4,662 feet above sea level, a fact in no way remarkable except as fixing the highest elevation attained in Nebraska.

The isolated position of this vast pile makes it a conspicuous object when viewed from no matter what direction. It rises abruptly from a comparatively level plain upon which it was once believed no vegetable life could ever grow, for the surface of the surrounding country was as barren and bare as a brick pavement. The rock at once arouses interest by virtue of its beautifully terraced formation, and picturesque outlines embellished with towers and castles, the handiwork of Nature.

There it stands, in majestic solitude, guarding its silent chambers, innumerable records of a remote antiquity,--an ancient ruin compared with which the storied monuments in the valley of the Nile are modern and insignificant.

It was not, however, because of its h.o.a.ry age and unfathomable mystery, but because of its beauty as it appealed to the eye, and because of the promise of a wide outlook from its summit, that I determined to make the ascent. When our train had reached the point at which our pathway approached nearest the bluff, I relieved myself of all impedimenta except a revolver and a field gla.s.s, and started alone for the climb.

From a distance along some of the channels that scarred the sides of the bluffs, could be seen a line of small cedars and a few shrubs that had fastened themselves in some way in the fissures of that inhospitable heap of indurated clay. Discovering on the north side of the southern bluff what appeared to be a continuous ravine intersecting the numerous level terraces, I concluded that the ascent along that course would not be difficult. To that ravine my steps were directed.

The ascent was indeed not difficult as that term would be used of mountain climbing. Terrace after terrace was pa.s.sed, each capped or protected by a stratum slightly harder than the main body of the bluff, which is the true formation of the Bad Lands and is now known by geologists as Brule clay. These thin, hard layers yielding more slowly to the action of the elements than does the intervening hard clay, there results the formation of terraces with level tops and perpendicular sides, as the general face of the bluffs disintegrates. The summit, being reached, was found to be comparatively level, with a number of prominences upon it a few feet in height, but each also with a level surface, the remains of a still higher terrace. Upon one of these I observed a thin, hard stratum in which numerous sh.e.l.ls were tightly imbedded. Ascending one of those small level areas upon the highest summit, from which the best view of the country toward the south could be obtained, I enjoyed through the field gla.s.ses a superb panorama of the surrounding landscape. Far in the distance towards the south, other bluffs of similar formation, and separated one from another by many miles of lowland, rise to nearly the same level. Among them is Dome Rock, not far away. I was not then aware of the fact that among the prominences visible far away in the distance were Court House Rock, which we had climbed several days previous and Castle Rock, a striking elevation of the same type, far to the east.

It was my immediate conclusion, and one that would be promptly formed by any other superficial observer, that this sh.e.l.l-bearing stratum had some time been the bed of a prehistoric body of water, which existed there previous to the upheaval of all that territory, covering all of what is now known as the Bad Lands. I observed also that the level strata in the distant bluffs were each a duplicate of the strata in all the others. It suggested at once the age when they were continuous, and the fact that I was now standing, not on a mountain summit, but on what was once the common level of that country. Surely the continuous action of the elements, beginning perhaps with the wearing out of the gullies near the river, had worn back into the high plain and gradually widened out in all directions until nothing remained of the original level, except these few high elevations. Scott's Bluff, Chimney Rock, Castle Rock, and other notable peaks alone remain to tell their tale of the ages that have pa.s.sed since this work of erosion began. This, however, is but part of the story discovered in the descent.

The perpendicular faces of the bluff present three or four varieties of clay formation, slight differences in color and texture being noticeable. One series of strata, called Mortar beds in Darton's geological reports, is called the Ogalalla formation, the strata being merged into a light colored, sandy clay. Beneath this is a formation sufficiently lithyfied to be fairly cla.s.sed as soft sandstone, and beneath it all, as late examination shows, the Pierre clay, now supposed to be at least 2,000 feet in thickness at this point.

Here also is seen at a glance one of the great sources of the enormous volume of sediment continually borne along in the waters of the Platte and down the great Missouri River, which have transported many cubic miles of earth and have deposited it to form the alluvial lands now forming the great states along the waters of the lower Mississippi. The suggestion seems overpowering, but true it is, that by these slow processes extending through ages, immeasurable even by the most learned geologist, the surface of this part of our continent has been transformed without limit.

I had carefully inspected the surfaces of the bluffs and the interesting panorama that surrounded them; the next problem was to descend. This would have been simple enough if I had been content to retrace my steps and return by the ravine I had followed in ascending, but I had crossed to the southern rim of the summit, and I desired to explore that side of the eminence. On the southwest corner, however, there appeared to be a dry run which from my point of observation seemed to afford a safe and comparatively unbroken descent to the foot of the cliffs on that side.

Although the view looking down this newly discovered ravine was not so comprehensive in all its details as would have been obtained below at a distance, I nevertheless determined to risk it.

Following it down for a hundred feet or more I encountered a terrace with the usual perpendicular face, but not intersected by the ravine along which I was descending. As the footing seemed to be good further along, I dropped myself over the edge of the terrace and comfortably alighted upon the level gallery that was next beneath. These narrow and level galleries surmounted each of the many upright-faced terraces, the latter varying somewhat in height. This mode of descent seemed fairly easy, and was indeed exhilarating. The process was repeated three or four times as other terraces were encountered, until I found myself upon a level gallery twelve to eighteen feet in width and possibly a hundred feet long.

Walking the length of this gallery back and forth, I found no point where below it there was not a sheer, perpendicular precipice of more than a hundred feet in height. At each of its ends the gallery narrowed to a point against the cliff which extended far down beneath. Nature had here failed to carry out the general architectural plan of the bluff's structure. I felt earnestly that the terraces should have been constructed with more rigid uniformity. The discovery was now made that the branch ravine which my eyes had been following bore off in its upward course round this cliff and was lower than I had supposed.

To return was impossible, for the smooth cliffs down which I had dropped, being absolutely vertical, afforded no better footing than would the side of a perpendicular brick wall. I was on the opposite side of the bluffs from the road which our train had followed, and miles from it. The last glimpse of our wagons showed them moving far away in the distance to the westward. A shot from my revolver would not be heard a tenth of the distance. Even though I should be searched for, it would be practically impossible for friends to follow my tortuous course down those cliffs over which probably no idiot before had dropt himself, and I should not be hunted until missed at night, for we often left the train for long side trips. The bluffs had already been named from one starving unfortunate, but I had no desire to add my own name to its history. As I walked back and forth along that gallery, looking upward and downward for some line of escape, the prospect was not cheerful. I suddenly became both hungry and thirsty.

A long, dry, cedar log lay upon the hard floor of the gallery, and I wearily sat upon it for a brief period of silent meditation. The broad landscape to the south stood out clear and beautiful in the sunlight, and far beneath, at the foot of the cliffs, the dark cedars in the shade were in mild contrast with the dull gray of the steep, clayey cliffs to which they clung on either side; but the landscape seemed at that time to have lost much of its interest, although it produced a lasting impression. The cedar log was a straight, slender, tapering shaft possibly fifty feet in length. It was hardly more than eight inches in diameter at its b.u.t.t. Being without bark, it had doubtless rested there for many years, and was thoroughly dried out as was nearly everything else in that climate, which was arid the greater part of the year.

Taking hold of one end of the log, and without any definite idea why I did it, I was surprised to discover how light it had become through seasoning. Either end of it could be lifted without great effort.

At the western end of the gallery upon which I stood, and far below it, was the ravine, which from that point seemed to be continuous, and made a rapid descent to the foot of the mountain. It was comparatively narrow, and two or three tall cedars on its opposite side sprang out from a little ledge in the cliff. Some limbs in one of the cedars were hardly more than thirty or thirty-five feet distant from the wall of the rock upon which I stood, and on a lower level. A practical thought finally came into my mind. Carefully breaking from the log the stubs of limbs and twigs which remained upon it all of which were found to be very brittle, I planned to slide this log over the edge of the gallery, so that the smaller end, which happened to be in the right direction, would find a lodgement somewhere in the limbs of the live cedars across the ravine, leaving the larger end supported on the gallery, thereby constructing a bridge.

I spent considerable time in calculating this problem, for I certainly believed that my life depended upon the success of the plan. I slowly moved the log along so that it projected beyond the gallery, and then carefully considered the proper direction for pushing it further. Laying aside revolver and field gla.s.s, I prepared for the one supreme effort.

All the strength at my command was put behind the log as I balanced and then vigorously pushed it onward beyond the brink. Surveying the result, I was gratified after the first effort to discover that it had not fallen into the depths below and that the end had caught upon a small limb, which proved strong enough temporarily to support it. Another push and a careful turn of the log left its end apparently secure near the junction of a small limb and the main trunk of the tree near its top.

The bridge, such as it was, being completed, I again strapped on my revolver, and taking the field gla.s.ses, sat astride the log and carefully crept along it to avoid any unnecessary jarring, my only doubt in accomplishing the task being in the strength of the old log and of the small limb which supported it. The distance beneath me had no more terrors than forty feet would naturally have, but when I laid my hands upon the slender trunk of the live cedar I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Shinning" down a tree was a simple matter, with which any youth would be familiar. After reaching the base of the tree I found other trees and shrubs that aided in the further descent, although there were a few other terraces or perpendicular cliffs twelve or fifteen feet in height over which I dropped with ease and safety.

This course led me into a ravine, which, like nearly all such erosions in that country, had abrupt sides, averaging thirty or forty feet in depth, which I discovered later led to the Platte River, gradually increasing in width and depth as it descended. Some miles distant it was crossed by a bridge over which the traffic by that trail pa.s.sed.