The kindly interest with which the public has received my first book, "Thirty-one Years on the Plains and in the Mountains," has tempted me into writing this second little volume, in which I have tried to portray that part of my earlier life which was spent in piloting emigrant and government trains across the Western Plains, when "Plains" meant wilderness, with nothing to encounter but wild animals, and wilder, hostile Indian tribes. When every step forward might have spelt disaster, and deadly

[Illustration: The Attack Upon the Train.]...

It was early in the spring of fifty when Kit Carson, Jim Bridger, and myself met at Bent's Fort, which was on the head waters, of the Arkansas river. Bridger and I had just got in from our winter's trapping ground and had disposed of our furs to a very good advantage; Carson had just returned from a trip back east. Carson said to Bridger, "Now Jim, I'll tell you what I want you to do. I want you and Will (meaning me) to go over to Fort Kerney and escort emigrants across to California this season

The next morning Carson left Bent's Fort taking his four horses with him going to his home at Taos, New Mexico, and Jim and I, taking five horses, pulled out for Fort Kerney. Nothing of interest happened to us on the way; and we made the trip in eleven days. As soon as we got to the Fort, we called on the General; he was very glad to see us, and invited us to stay all night with him. We accepted his invitation. That evening at supper General Kerney mentioned my rescuing the two women at the head

The next morning we pulled out of this place by the way of Landers. That afternoon about two o'clock I saw a small band of Indians coming directly towards us. They were about a mile away when I first saw them. I rode to the foot of a little hill which was close to me at the time I saw them. I dismounted from my horse and tied him to a sage brush, and then I crept to the top of the hill to see how many there were of them. I watched them until they were within a half a mile of my hiding place; I t

The next morning we had an early breakfast and were on our journey in good season. Nothing of interest occurred to us until we reached where the city of Reno now stands, which is in the western part of what is now the state of Nevada. We were about to go into camp on the bank of the Truckee river when I looked off to the north and saw a band of Indians, and they were heading directly for the train. They were probably a mile away from us when I saw them. I reported to Jim at once, and he was not

All was in readiness for the start on the road the next morning, and we pulled out in good season. Every thing worked smoothly for the next three days, and then we were in the Ute country, and there were also a great many Buffalo scattered all through the country. I had seen some signs of Indians, but up to this time I had seen only one small band of them, and they were going in the opposite direction from the one we were going. The evening of the third day, after we had eaten our supper, about

We found Uncle Kit and his family all well and glad to see us. It was late in the afternoon when we got there, and we spent the remainder of the day and evening in recounting our summer's experience for Uncle Kit's benefit, who was a very interested listener to all that had befallen us since we parted from him in the spring. While we ate supper, Jim told Uncle Kit of the fight with the Indians in which I killed the old chief and took his scalp and war bonnet, an account which amused Uncle Kit ve

The next morning my packers and myself were up early and ready to be off for the Indian village. I told the boys to be sure and take a plenty of rope as all the hides would have to be baled before they could be packed on the horses. One man said, "I have four sacks full of rope, and I reckon that will be enough." Col. Bent asked me how many hides I thought I could pack on the horses. I told him I could put twenty hides on each horse, and that would make four hundred and forty hides in all. He sa

When we reached Fort Worth, the news met us that the Indians were on the war path in western Texas and were raiding all the white settlements, killing the people and driving off their stock throughout all that part of the state. We laid in a supply of provisions and tobacco, enough to last three months, and struck the trail for western Texas. The fourth day after we left Fort Worth, we came to a settlement, and all the people were natives of Tennessee, and as that was my native state, I soon mad

The next morning we were on the road very early, and we traveled nearly all day before we reached the first settlement. There was a little cluster of houses there, perhaps fifty all together, and they were as prosperous farmers as I had seen in Texas. They were all acquainted with the Capt. and were glad to see us. We staid at this place a couple of days to let our horses rest, and we sold twelve of the horses that we'd captured from the Indians to the farmers. The people there told us that it w

I do not remember how many days it took us to reach Dallas, but it was in the middle of October when we rode into that city. This was in the fall of fifty-eight, and the news had just reached Dallas that gold had been discovered on Cherry creek in the territory of Colorado, and the excitement was intense. All over the city people talked of nothing else but gold, and of all the exaggeration stories about gold mines that I had ever heard, the ones told there were the most incredible. The parties w

The night we struck the mines, we camped near the head of Russel's gulch. The next morning, after we had eaten our breakfast, we started out to take a look around, and Bridger said, "Where in the name of common sense do these people come from?" For look in any direction we would, there was a bunch of men with pick and shovel slung over their backs, and every little while we came on a bunch of men digging a hold in the ground. Later in the forenoon we went to Green Russel's cabin, he being the ma