CHAPTER XLIX.

START HOME FROM FORT SUPPLY—CAMP ALONE AT NEEDLE ROCK—AWAKENED BY MY HORSE—SURROUNDED BY WOLVES—FLASH POWDER ALL NIGHT TO KEEP OFF THE WILD BEASTS—REACH HOME—SUPPLIES SHORT—HARDSHIPS OF A GRASSHOPPER YEAR—GETTING MY CATTLE OUT OF A CANYON—PERILS OF BEING CAUGHT IN THE SNOW—GREAT SUFFERING—BREAKING A SNOW ROAD—BUSINESS AFFAIRS.

THE writer left Fort Supply December 14, 1855, and started for his home in Ogden City on horseback and alone, having placed Isaac Bullock in charge of affairs at the fort. The first night out I camped at a place called Needle Rock, just east of Yellow Creek. There I selected a spot where the feed was good, picketed out my horse, set my saddle over the picket pin, and spread my blankets so as to lay my head on the saddle, lest the coyotes should cut my riata and turn loose the horse.

As I was alone and yet in an Indian country, I did not make a fire, but ate a cold lunch, rolled up in my blankets, and soon dropped to sleep, to be awakened by my horse snorting and kicking. The animal brushed his nose on my head before I was sufficiently awake to understand what he meant by his actions; but no sooner was I aroused than I found that he was surrounded by a pack of large, grey wolves which were growling and snapping at his heels and at each other. The night was so dark that I could plainly see the fierce eyes of my ravenous enemies shining in the darkness all around me.

I had a good Colt's revolver, but having heard that if wolves smelled blood when they were gathered in such a pack they would attack man or beast, I reserved my fire. I remembered having heard that these wild beasts were afraid of the flash and smell of burning powder, so I spread some gunpowder on the leathers of my saddle, and with flint and steel struck fire, and in that way flashed powder by intervals all night. The wolves would run off, but return in a short time, as if determined to have flesh. My horse was too weak to attempt to flee, and as for myself I had become so chilled and benumbed that it was with some difficulty that I could keep up the flashes till daylight, at which time the pack of wolves went away, leaving horse and rider to resume their sufficiently hazardous journey without such unwelcome company.

I crossed over to the head of Echo Canyon, where I found a yoke of oxen that some emigrants had left to die. As the animals had got rested up, I thought I could drive them in and save their lives, but had to abandon them in Round Valley, Weber Canyon. Then, on a poor, jaded horse, I pursued my way, arriving at home about 9 p.m. on December 20th.

SURROUNDED BY A PACK OF HUNGRY WOLVES

SURROUNDED BY A PACK OF HUNGRY WOLVES

I found all well, but winter supplies of food so short that I sold the only respectable suit of clothes I had for breadstuff. I had about worn out all the rest of my clothing when I was in the Indian country, so that I had but one old flannel shirt left, and that I had made out of two old ones. I had one pair of buckskin pants, a rough beaver cap and a pair of moccasins.

It will be remembered by the early residents of Utah that the year 1855 was a grasshopper year, as well as a season of great drought, and therefore one of the hardest years that many of the people had ever experienced, both for man and beast. Hundreds of horses and cattle starved to death, and many of the people barely escaped the same sad fate. I could do no better than to let my horses go out on the range to die of starvation and cold, and turn my hand to anything I could get to do to earn an honest dollar.

Soon after arriving home I was called to devote a portion of my time in traveling from settlement to settlement, and preaching to the people; also in visiting the Indian camps along the Weber River and preaching and talking to them, for it was a terrible winter for the Indians. Before entering upon these duties, however, I returned to where I had left my cattle to rest for a few days, and where the feed was tolerably good. When I started out it commenced to storm and by the time I reached the cattle the snow was eighteen inches deep.

Before I could get out of the canyon with the animals the snow was two and a half feet deep. My horse gave out, and I had to travel on foot, breaking the trail and leading the horse a few rods, then going back and driving up the cattle. I continued these efforts until myself and stock were exhausted. When I tried to start a fire, my matches were all wet. I had left my rifle and shotpouch at home, and in the pouch were my faithful flint and steel, which had never failed me. But for the snow, the night was total darkness. At last I reached a clump of cottonwood trees, and for a time I thought I would die of exhaustion and thirst. I knew that if I ceased to exert myself I would chill to death. Finally it occurred to my mind to tear off a piece of my shirt, roll it up, hold it in one hand, and with my revolver shoot through it and start a fire. I found a large sagebrush, and from it gathered the dry bark. This I wrapped around the roll of shirt, then fired a shot through it, and in that way succeeded in starting a flame. As there was plenty of wood handy, I built and kept up a large fire during the night. The river banks were so steep that it was impossible in the darkness to get water to drink. I was driven almost frantic by thirst, but finally thought to take off my heavy leggings, place them in a position so that they would form a kind of basin, and cover them with snow, so the fire would melt it to water in the leather bowl. In that way I obtained water and quenched my terrible thirst. My blankets and everything I had on had been soaked thoroughly with the melting snow, but I succeeded in drying all during the night.

The dawn of day was welcome indeed, but my troubles were not yet over, for I found my animals standing in snow to their necks, and they would not move out of their tracks only as I broke an opening around and urged them on. The snow was so wet and heavy that it was an awful task to break a road and get those animals through for the first five miles. After that the snow was not so deep, and with a very great effort and hazard of life I succeeded in reaching Ogden, as thankful as I ever was in my life to get home—to "home, sweet home."

Being once more with my family and friends, I got up my winter wood and visited the people as a teacher. In the spring I finished a two-roomed house that I had under way on Main Street. I then moved into it, preparatory to going to Fort Supply again, but was honorably released by President Young from further missionary labors in that part. I rented land, put in corn and potatoes, and spent the fore part of the summer at farm labor. Having acquired a fourth interest in three ferries on Green River, I arranged with my three partners, Isaac Bullock, Louis Robinson and W. Hickman, so that I did not have to go there, as my health was not very good; hence I remained at Ogden.