CHAPTER LXII.

AGAIN IN ARIZONA—SETTLING DIFFICULTIES AMONG THE PEOPLE—OUR RESERVOIR BURSTS—NEWS OF NOTABLE EVENTS—PREPARE TO REPEL AN INDIAN RAID—INDIANS QUARREL, AND THE TROUBLE PASSES OVER—FUNERAL AT MOENCOPPY—EXPLORING TRIP TO THE SOUTHEAST—A WHITE INDIAN CHILD—MEET THE HEAD CHIEF OF THE NAVAJOS—HIS ADDRESS, AND PROPOSITION TO ACCOMPANY ME TO SALT LAKE CITY—AGREE ON A DATE FOR THE JOURNEY—CONTINUE MY TRIP OYER INTO NEW MEXICO, THEN RETURN TO MOENCOPPY—ACCUSATION AGAINST ME DISPROVED—INDIANS GATHER TO GO TO SALT LAKE CITY—MAKE THE TRIP—AT PRESIDENT YOUNG'S DEATHBED—VISIT OF THE INDIANS—HONORABLE RELEASE FROM MY MISSION—RESUME HOME MISSIONARY LABORS—IN PRISON FOR CONSCIENCE SAKE.

MY stay at home was brief, and the 26th of January, 1877, found me again at Kanab, ready to proceed southward. Three days later the start was made, and on the morning of February 5th we reached Moencoppy. The people there were in poor spirits, and considerably dissatisfied. During my absence they had sowed about fourteen acres of fall grain and had built eight log rooms. On my arrival, A. S. Gibbons made complaint against S. B. Tanner, for they had had a disagreement. Tanner was found to be in error, and made the matter right.

This trouble settled, the work of plowing and planting and setting out trees, was proceeded with. Friendly Navajo and Oriba Indians visited us, and as the United Order was being preached to the Church at that time, I gave my views on the subject in an address at the Thursday evening meeting, March 8th. Again on Sunday, the 11th, I preached to the Saints, telling them plainly the wrong that was in their neglect of duty and disaffection. My remarks had quite a salutary effect, and matters moved more smoothly.

Shortly after midnight on the morning of March 23rd, the message was brought that our reservoir had given way. We hurried out, but had to wait till daylight before we could do effective work in repairing the dam. In the meantime the Indians were greatly excited because the water was injuring their crops, and we had to pacify the red men as best we could, and make good the damage. Two days after this my daughter, Mrs. Fullmer, became a mother, and I rendered her necessary care and attention.

On March 31st we received mail with the news of the result of the presidential election, when Hayes and Tilden were the candidates, also of Amasa M. Lyman's death, and of John D. Lee being sentenced to be shot. On April 4th we received tidings of Lee's execution.

Our time was well occupied now with the work around the settlement; I also engaged in studying the Navajo language, preparatory to an extended visit among those Indians. All went well till May 8th, when I learned that the Piute Indians intended to steal our animals. Chief Patnish was dead, and his people were angry. For the first time in the history of the mission, we called out a guard, gathered our animals and property, and provided against a raid on the part of the savages. We were assisted by some friendly Navajos. At our inspection we ascertained that we could fire eighty-five shots without stopping to reload. On the 17th, two Piute Indians came in and informed us that a council had been held to discuss the raid on us, but the vote was six to five against molesting us, and the council broke up in a fight. The five Indians who were in favor of attacking us started to seek the assistance of the Ute Indians, while the others came to our side. A week later we had a talk with some of the Piutes, and the threatened trouble was averted.

A funeral occurred in the settlement on May 27th—that of Minty, the little daughter of W. J. Johnston. I preached the funeral sermon. For some time previous to and after this occasion my health was quite poor. On June 1st we had another Indian scare, and made ready for attack, but the alarm was without sufficient cause.

Before this time several of our company had endeavored to learn the Navajo language, but met with little success; so I determined to study the Indian language and customs myself, that I might be able to talk freely with the red men. Accordingly, on June 4th, I went up the Moencoppy Wash to Chief Hustelso's camp, about twenty-five miles. It was arranged that I should be left there alone, except that Ira Hatch's eight-year old girl was to stay with and wait on me. The Indian camp was located two or three miles from where George A. Smith, Jr. was killed some years before, probably by the same Indians.

H. O. Fullmer and Ira Hatch went with me, and eight Navajos assisted in letting my wagon down into the Wash, where I was left. The bed of the stream was perhaps three thousand feet below the plain above on the north side, while the cliffs on the south towered up almost perpendicularly about five thousand feet. The Indian camp was in the deep recess, the descent into which was both difficult and dangerous. A wagon could not be drawn down or up by team, but for a thousand feet or so had to be lowered from one cliff to another with ropes. In one place the Indians had cut eighteen steps, to enable them to get their animals up and down; and then occasionally a horse would go over and be killed.

In this place the first night gave me a decidedly lonesome feeling. Chief Hustelso was friendly, but not so his people, except a few old men. The young men were very surly, and would not talk. Some of them were shooting arrows, and I tried to be friendly and proposed to shoot with them, but three of the young braves drew their bows on me, as if intending to kill me. I made no headway that night, and I realized the gloominess that had prevented my companions remaining there and learning to speak the Navajo tongue. The next day or two I was threatened and illtreated, the burrs taken off my wagon, and I was subjected to other annoyances. The little girl with me did fairly well, for, being a half-breed Indian herself, she affiliated with the Indian children without difficulty.

Then the Indians became less offensive in their conduct day by day, and I learned rapidly to converse with them, and began to experience kindness at their hands. Several strange Indians came from a considerable distance to see me, and on June 12th, about three hundred and fifty Navajos gathered around to hear me tell them of the Book of Mormon, its discovery and contents. Book in hand I related to them the story of the volume being the history of their forefathers. Some laughed at me and others asked most searching questions, which I was able to answer satisfactorily in their own dialect.

Then came the inquiry, "If it is our book, how did you get it? Did you steal it?" I was getting pretty well puzzled, owing to my imperfect acquaintance with the Navajo language. I told them that the book was obtained in the east, about so many days' journey off. But I could not explain to them that it was in a stone box in the Hill Cumorah, and that the writings were on gold plates, for I did not know what terms to use to convey my meaning. One Indian told me the book could not have lasted so long as I said, because paper would decay, he knew that. In order to learn what hill was, I made a small hill of sand, and by comparison with the mountains and much explanation I learned the word for hill.

I had noticed, almost up to the plateau above, some slate rock; and after great difficulty I managed to climb and get several pieces of slate down, being aided by the little girl. Then I improvised a stone box, set it in the sand hill, placed the book therein, and thus ascertained how to say stone box, in Navajo, and explained that the record was deposited therein. I was almost beaten to tell of gold plates, for I did not know the words to use. At last I bethought me of a brass suspender buckle, and pointed out that what I was referring to was like that, but was not that; and a little piece was worth several silver dollars. Then one Indian recognized what I wanted to say, and gave me the word for gold, on the coins of which he had seen small letters. I was thus able to explain that the record was on plates of gold; but the way I learned to do it was one of the marvelous experiences of my life, and illustrates the difficulties I had to meet in learning the Navajo language.

When I reached the point of telling how the Book of Mormon plates were preserved and obtained, my audience was quite in touch with me, and they rejoiced and wept while I told them further of its contents. From that time no friendship was too great for me, and before my departure I spent a day, by invitation, viewing Indian sports. By June 20, I was through at Hustelso's camp and ready for a journey of exploration which had been planned.

On June 21st our exploring party, consisting of six persons, including my son-in-law and his wife and child, started on a trip, the general direction of travel being a little south of east. Our journey led us through some good country, and some that was very rough. We went a short distance into New Mexico, and obtained considerable knowledge of the country and its inhabitants, there being many Indian villages, houses and farms on the route we traveled. As we were crossing over a broad mesa, on June 27, after passing the Fort Defiance road, we met with a strange person among the people. This was a fullblood Indian girl seven or eight years of age, with white hair, blue eyes, and skin as fair as the fairest white person.

Next day we reached the camp of Pal Chil Clane, a Navajo chief at whose place a council had been appointed. From there a messenger was dispatched to Totoso-ne—Huste, the head chief of the Navajo nation. On the evening of the following day that chief arrived in the camp.

A consultation was held on June 29th with the chieftain, at which we informed him of our desire to settle the country, to teach the Indians the Gospel, and to aid in improving their general condition; we also told of the Book of Mormon, a record of the Indians' forefathers, which had been made known. The chief responded that it was a departure from his usual rule to come and see the white men. Before this, they always had come to him, or he had sent good men to meet the government agents and others. This also had been his custom with the Mormons up to that occasion. Among other things he said:

"When I heard that you had come, I quit work and came to see you. My heart is glad at the meeting with you, and that I see your wagon there, and the brush shade that your men have built. Stop here four days, and many of our best men will come and talk to you, for a great many of our people want to go and see the Mormons. We shall have a big talk and know what to do. We are glad that you come among us as friends, that you are making a road through our country, and that you have built houses at Moencoppy. We want to live with you in peace and let your animals eat grass in peace. But water is scarce in this country, there is barely enough for our numerous flocks and increasing people, and our good old men do not want your people to build any more houses by the springs; nor do we want you to bring flocks to eat the grass about the springs. We want to live by you as friends. I sent some good men with you last year, and they say you talked one talk all the time. The great Mormon father he talked straight all the time. I think that a good road to travel in. I have had two daughters prisoners among the Apaches for many years but have never left my home to search for them, for I love my home and my people, and I do not love to travel. I have sent good and true men to search for my children, and have appealed to the American captains in different places, yet my daughters have not been brought back. I am an old man now, and it is hard for me to travel long roads, but I wish to see the Mormons and my father their captain. I am inclined to go with you. I want twenty-five or thirty men to go with me, and one or two women, to see your women and learn how they do. I am much pleased to see you and your daughter and her baby. I want to see more of your people. The Americans and your people differ in religion. The Mormons say their captain talks with God (Pagocheda), and Americans say God does not talk to men. We do not know what to believe. When God talks to us, then we shall know. Until then we want to live as friends."

After our talk we separated, he promising to return in three days. He came, and I accompanied him to a Navajo religious feast, where I was introduced to thirteen chiefs and over two hundred other Navajo Indians. This was on July 2nd. It was decided that some of them would go to see the Mormons, and be at Moencoppy in thirty-eight days. Then we bade the Indians good-by, and proceeded on our journey, going over into New Mexico, and back to Moencoppy, where we arrived on July 15th. There were quite a number of Navajos, Piutes and Hopees there, and I had to talk with them and three Mexicans till quite late.

A week later, on July 22nd, I declined to administer the sacrament, owing to the feeling of dissatisfaction among the people. A. S. Gibbons and M. P. Mortensen circulated reports against me, that I had used provisions contributed to the mission, and I had a full investigation made; this showed that the accusation was entirely wrong. Other meetings were held subsequently, and the ill feeling that had arisen was dispensed with. The mission affairs then proceeded smoothly again.

It was on the morning of August 8th that the Navajo Indian delegation began to assemble for the journey north, Totoso-ne-Huste among the number, and by the 10th all were ready for the start. The journey was a hard one much of the way, but when we got among the settlements in Utah we were well treated, and the Indians highly pleased. We reached Salt Lake City August 28, 1877.

The next day I visited President Young. He was very ill, and I merely called to see him. The great pioneer and prophet who had done so much for the opening up and settlement of the Great West was on his deathbed. The magnificent work of his life was over. In half an hour after I left his room, the noble spirit passed from his body, and he slept in death, awaiting the resurrection morn.

On the evening of August 29, the Deseret News published the following regarding the Navajo delegation and myself:

"Indian Delegation.—Last evening Elder James S. Brown arrived from the south with a delegation of Navajo Indians, one of whom is a woman, the first female Navajo, we believe, that has ever visited this part of the country. Garanu Namunche, or Totoso-ne-Huste, the former being his Spanish and the latter his Indian name, is at the head of the party. He is, in fact, the head chief of the Navajo nation. He is accompanied by two other leading men, Honeco, brother of the former, and Esclepelehen, son of the same. In June last Elder Brown and a party of brethren visited the northeastern part of Arizona and the north-western portion of New Mexico, and found a strong spirit of inquiry among the Navajos relative to the Mormon people, their methods of farming, manufacturing, and in relation to their institutions generally. These inquiries were incited by the report of the Navajo delegation which visited this city a year ago, and these composing the one now here have come to see, hear and examine for themselves, that they may be witnesses of the same things. Brother Brown and party held a council with the Indians at the camp of Pal Chil Clane, about two hundred men of the tribe being present on the occasion, including Totoso-ne-Huste, the leading chief already mentioned. It was then that the latter proposed to pay the present visit. Manlete, or Pahada Pahadane, is the war chief of the nation, but in the estimation of the tribe is second in rank to Totoso-ne-Huste, although the whites, or "Americans," recognize the war chief as the head. The delegation are stopping at the house of Brother Brown, and have been visiting the leading places of interest in the city today. Elder Brown purposes taking them north to Bear River on Monday."

On August 30th, the Indians and I met Daniel H. Wells, who had been counselor to President Young in the First Presidency. At that interview President Wells told me I had performed a great and good work, and to ask me to return to Arizona was too much to require of me. I was therefore honorably released from that mission. Subsequently I received a formal release from President John Taylor, who succeeded to the presidency of the Church.

After the funeral of President Young, which was held on September 2nd, I accompanied the Indians as far south as Gunnison, Sanpete County, on their way home. There I bade them goodbye, and returned northward, to resume my missionary labors, traveling and lecturing among the settlements in Utah, southern Idaho, and western Wyoming. I also purchased a tract of eighty acres of land on the Redwood Road, in the western part of Salt Lake City, and worked on that in the spring and summer, traveling and preaching in the autumn and winter as President Young had directed me to do.

Thus my time was occupied till the spring of 1892 with the exception of the months of March, April and May, 1888. With a firm conviction that plurality of wives was a law of God. I had entered into that relationship honorably with a sincere purpose to follow the right. My family were united with me in accepting this union as of the highest, holiest, most sacred character in the sight of the Most High. I could not feel to cast aside my wives whom I had married under these conditions, and therefore, on March 12, 1888, I was sentenced to prison on a charge of unlawful cohabitation, the legal term applied to living with more than one wife, the law being specially directed at one of the religious practices of the Latter-day Saints. The judgment pronounced against me was three months' imprisonment in the penitentiary and to pay a fine of one hundred dollars and costs, which amounted in my case to twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents. I paid the fine and served the term, less the time allowed for good behavior, and was released May 28, 1888, having been in prison two months and sixteen days.

As was the case with other Mormons in my position, our offense was not looked upon even by non-Mormons acquainted with the circumstances as containing the element of crime; but our incarceration was in fact an imprisonment for conscience sake, that being the position in which the law found us. A term in the penitentiary under those conditions and at that time, while a severe hardship, especially upon one in my state of health, was by no means a moral disgrace, since those who had to endure it were of the better class of men, whose uprightness, honor, integrity and sincerity were beyond question in the community where their lives were an open book.