Narrative of the March of Co. A, Engineers from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, to Fort Bridger, Utah, and Return (continued 2)

August 23 (Monday). We did not move camp, but adopted this as a day of rest. The Indians, no doubt, thought we stayed in order to give them an opportunity of making acquaintance, which they set about doing in a very indefatigable manner, greatly to our annoyance, for they are a filthy, indolent tribe. We were obliged to remain in or near our tents all day, to keep them out, not through fear of their taking anything, for they appear to be honest, but for fear of their leaving vermin behind.

August 24 (Tuesday). We encamped on Little Muddy Creek, after a march of eighteen and a half miles. We followed the course of the river a few miles, over a very uneven road. One hill was so steep that the ordinary teams could not draw the wagons; we were forced to double the teams, take half the train up first and then return for the remainder. We passed the Fifth Column this morning, composed of Companies A and D, Seventh Infantry, and a company of the Third Artillery, with a long train. The Sixth Column then passed us, Companies I and E of the Seventh Infantry and two companies of Cavalry, having under their protection a number of emigrant wagons going to Salt Lake, the emigrants being principally Danes and Germans.

About two miles below where we are encamped this evening a bridge is built across the Platte and left in charge of two companies of the Fourth Artillery.

A travelling grocery store came into camp this evening, a vehicle built after the manner of a stage, and quite as ornamentally painted. The usual commodities sold in Western stores were retailed at very moderate prices from this fancy curiosity shop. As soon as custom began to lag, the proprietor closed up shop and, whipping up his oxen, started in search of a new location.

August 25 (Wednesday). We marched twenty-two miles, which brought us to Deer Creek. The country is now assuming a very interesting appearance to us, at least, who have been so long in the wilderness. Our camp-ground, to-night, is a veritable flower garden; the fields yellow with flowers, the green trees, the white, sandy banks of the river, and the river itself, form a very beautiful spectacle. A village, containing about a dozen log houses and Indian huts, stands close by our camp. It is called "Dacotah City," and the inhabitants are French and Indians.

August 26 (Thursday). Having marched eighteen and a quarter miles, we camped on La Prèlé Creek. At Box Elder Creek we stopped at noon. The mules were turned out to feed on the fine crop of grass, and the cooks prepared our dinner. After two or three hours' rest we again took up our march.

August 27 (Friday). We encamped on La Bonté Creek, after a march of eighteen miles. The country seems to undergo a general improvement as we approach Fort Laramie. Toward the close of the march Laramie Peak came into view.

August 28 (Saturday). Our camp was pitched on Horseshoe Creek, concluding a march of twenty-three and a half miles. A great deal of timber was seen and we passed through several romantic looking glens and ravines. The weather seemed mild and many of us rolled ourselves in our blankets and, throwing ourselves upon the ground by the fires, were soon lulled to sleep by the prairie serenaders—wolves, buffaloes, owls, whippoorwills, and coyotes. But during the night the fires became extinguished, and, a dense fog having arisen, our blankets were saturated with water when we awoke.

August 29 (Sunday). We reached Bitter Cottonwood Creek after a march of eighteen and a quarter miles. During most of the forenoon a thick fog enveloped the country, effectually veiling the surrounding scenery from our view—much to our annoyance, as we were expecting to come within sight of Fort Laramie on this or to-morrow's march. We passed several Indian lodges in the morning, from which a few dusky warriors issued forth to greet us with the well-known words of welcome, "How! How!" This evening our guide went ahead to the Fort, intending to return to-morrow in order to direct us by a short cut.

August 30 (Monday). After marching twenty-one miles we entered the long desired Fort Laramie. We again struck the Platte River shortly after breaking camp. The whole road from Fort Bridger to Fort Laramie has been infested with a nuisance in the shape of dead cattle. Not one day's march have we made since leaving Fort Bridger that we are not obliged to pass by many of these disgusting objects. We were informed by a teamster of an ox train that one wagon-master had lost fifty cattle in one night, with the bloody murrain, an epidemic which prevails among the cattle in these regions to an alarming extent.

Our camp to-night is on the Laramie River, about half a mile below the Fort.

August 31 (Tuesday). We prepared for muster, which took place at 8 a.m., the Company being mustered by our own Commanding Officer. The Indians are about in great numbers, hanging around the camp all day, begging for food and carrying away the offal which is left after killing our beef. Several old crones and children have been scratching in the grass, from daylight until dark, collecting the grains of corn which the mules had left. At one of their villages across the river they have been lamenting the demise of one of their tribe; they commence their orgies at dusk with a low, plaintive wail, which they gradually increase in volume until it becomes a wild, furious chant, occasionally interrupted by dismal shrieks.

September 1 (Wednesday). The day was spent in preparing to resume our march, rations being drawn and many articles, including the forge, being turned over to the Quartermaster at the Fort. Some teamsters were discharged and others engaged in their places.

September 2 (Thursday). We marched twenty-three and a quarter miles, and encamped on the Platte. The site was so densely covered with wild marigold that we called the camp "Marigold Plain." We passed two Indian villages to-day, the inhabitants of which belong to some of the tribes that have been at the gathering to hunt buffaloes at the South Fork of the Platte; having furnished themselves with winter provisions they are now on the return to their usual grounds.

September 3 (Friday). We encamped near Scotts Bluff, having marched twenty-two miles. It was an exceedingly tiresome march, owing to the heat and dust. Several mirages were seen in looking down the river. We passed two more Indian camps and met many Indians scattered along the road, on their way to the West. An ox-train is corralled alongside of us this evening, the wagon-master of which informs us that the Cheyenne Indians are collected on the South Platte in such numbers as to render them quite insolent, and that they have even attempted to force wagon-masters of trains to give them provisions.

September 4 (Saturday). We pitched camp near Castle or Courthouse Rocks, after having marched twenty-four miles. This has been a more oppressive day even than yesterday.

September 5 (Sunday). We remained in camp. As fuel of every description is scarce at this place the police party was sent out on mule-back, with gunny-bags, in quest of buffalo chips.

September 6 (Monday). Our march extended as far as Platte Meadows, twenty-five and a half miles. Toward the latter part of the afternoon it began to rain, and has continued a dismal, dreary fall all night.

September 7 (Tuesday). We again encamped on the Platte, marching twenty-two and a half miles. The mosquitoes were very troublesome during the march, following us in perfect clouds—do all that we could to present it, we were soon covered with stings.

September 8 (Wednesday). We marched twenty and a half miles and once more encamped on the North Platte.

September 9 (Thursday). We encamped near Ash Hollow, a distance of seventeen and a half miles. We followed the sandy bed of the Hollow until we arrived at the point where the road leaves it and ascends a high hill. Before undertaking the ascent, we unharnessed the mules, turned them out to grass, and ate our dinner. Night found us crossing the hills between the two forks of the Platte, beneath a steady fall of rain. We were at last obliged to encamp upon the road, where no water could be obtained; but we had anticipated this want, having brought all the barrels and kegs that we could possibly muster filled with water from the spring in the hollow.

September 10 (Friday). We pitched our camp on the south side of the South Fork of the Platte River, concluding a march of eighteen and a half miles. The crossing of the river was very different from that of three months ago; we merely rolled up our pantaloons and forded the stream, coming out on the other side perfectly dry, the water being no place more than knee deep. We continued along the river about four miles and then encamped.

September 11 (Saturday). We marched twenty-three and a half miles and encamped again on the South Fork. We passed a mule-train which was taking out the families of the Fourth Artillery and the Second Dragoons.

September 12 (Sunday). We stayed in camp to-day for a rest. A few of us got together and prepared what in this country is called a sumptuous dinner—boiled tongue, fried bacon and beefsteak, liver and onions, flap-jacks, boiled rice and chocolate. This feast being spread out in tempting array on the ground, two or three of the men in the next tent were invited to dinner and we gathered around it, sitting cross-legged. In the afternoon the tent was converted into a wine press. Some of the men had found grapes in their rambles and brought as many as they could carry. Accordingly, putting all the empty cups into the service, we pressed the grapes into them, mashing them with our hands. After working indefatigably a couple of hours, staining ourselves from head to foot and spoiling all the silk handkerchiefs we could obtain in the process of straining, we procured about a gallon of grape juice.

September 13 (Monday). We encamped at Fremonts Spring, having marched twenty-four and a half miles. This is a very poor camp site. The water is stagnant, being found only in a slough of black mud, and fuel is very scarce. The comet which was discovered June 2d by Donati was rediscovered by us this evening; the appearance of the phenomenon was highly interesting, as we had an excellent opportunity of seeing it over our prairie horizon.

September 14 (Tuesday). We marched twenty-five and three-quarter miles, and encamped near Box Elder Creek. The water is even worse than at Fremonts Spring, and we were obliged to dig for some that was fit for use. The mosquitoes being very numerous and bloodthirsty here, we burnt an incense of buffalo chips in our tent this evening. Several buffaloes were seen during the march, feeding, about a mile from the road and almost at the foot of the sand hills which extend the whole length of the river. They were too far off, however, to permit a chase.

September 15 (Wednesday). We encamped on the main Platte, after a march of twenty-five and three-quarter miles. When we left camp, this morning, a shaggy brute of a buffalo came very close to the company; he soon paid the forfeit of his life for his curiosity, being shot by Lieutenant Alexander. A short time afterward a small herd came close to us. Lieutenant Alexander gave chase and wounded a fine, large fellow that ran directly toward us. When he came within range a half-dozen of us crept toward him, but at the first shot, being hit, he turned about and ran in a different course. We continued the chase, but were all recalled to the company except one, who followed the animal, firing at intervals, and watched by us with intense interest. At last the buffalo seemed exhausted and stopped, the hunter drawing near him. We saw the man shoot and saw the beast leap into the air, then turn and charge on the man who had fired at him. The whole Company started to his rescue, loading as we ran, and the first few shots turned the buffalo toward the hills, in which direction he bounded with mighty strides, notwithstanding the fact that he was riddled with bullets. He was finished later by some of the men with the train, and brought into camp.

The valley, on the other side of the river, is literally black with buffaloes. Soon after we made camp a large fellow waded leisurely across the river, just in front of the camp, so that we were able to get a near view of him. He was one of the ugliest of these ugly brutes. Shot after shot was fired at the animal, yet he stood firm and resolute, not a motion betraying pain or fear. There was something noble in the manner in which he faced his persecutors, as though, knowing he could not reach them, he could yet show them he knew how to die. Suddenly he curved his tail, a shudder went through his mighty frame, and he rolled over dead. The men waded out and cut him up. After dark the wolves finished what the men had left.

September 16 (Thursday). We marched twenty-four and a half miles and camped near Plum Creek. The buffaloes made their appearance in great numbers; one small herd ran across the road, directly in front of the train, which sudden charge frightened the mules into a general, though short-lived, stampede. Nine buffaloes were killed to-day, only three of which, however, were brought in.

September 17 (Friday). We encamped on the Platte River, after a march of twenty-four and a half miles. It proved to be a severe march, the day being hot and the roads dusty. Our canteens became empty toward the latter part of the march and we suffered greatly for the want of water. When we came within sight of the river the whole Company made an unceremonious rush for it—never did water seem more cool and refreshing. The number of buffaloes seems to increase rather than diminish. The Company fired two volleys at one, which had the temerity to approach to within point-blank range. He limped for a few hundred yards with his grievous load of lead, then quietly lay down and expired. At another time we fired by file at a herd, to drive it from the road.

September 18 (Saturday). We arrived once more at Fort Kearney, having marched nineteen and a quarter miles. Not one buffalo was seen during the whole day, although there was a party detailed to hunt. Their sudden disappearance surprised us considerably, until we learned that the grass throughout the last twenty miles is of a kind that the animal does not relish. We encamped in rear of the Fort, where the water is most convenient. The man who was left here on the march out, Robert Ayres, rejoined the Company, having completely recovered.

September 19 (Sunday). The day was given up to rest, which our weary bodies much needed, as the fatiguing nature of the long marches and the frequent occurrence of our tours of guard duty have drawn very largely upon our physical energies.

September 20 (Monday). We drew rations to-day and made general preparations for our start to-morrow. Darkness brought with it a fiddler from the Fort, a real jovial "culluhed puhson," who was not so much a violinist as a fiddler; who danced "Juba," "Jim Crow," and the "Old Virginia Break-down," and sang all the Negro songs in the catalogue for the edification and amusement of his numerous audience.

September 21 (Tuesday). We traversed twenty-two and three-quarters miles of country, and encamped on the hills above Platte Valley. As we feared the necessity of camping where water could not be found, we nooned on the river before bidding it farewell. Our cooks made preparations for soup, but discovered upon examining the meat that by reason of the warm weather we would have to forego that refreshment. We filled our water casks before resuming our march, and after a very fatiguing tramp we encamped near a slough, which, together with what water we had brought with us, supplied our necessities for this evening.

September 22 (Wednesday). We reached the Little Blue River, after a march of twenty-seven miles. The route was over the hills which border upon the Little Blue; at the termination of the march we descended into the valley and encamped on the bank of the river. Game has been unusually scarce the past few days, but to-day a buffalo and some antelopes were seen, although we did not succeed in obtaining any.

September 23 (Thursday). We encamped again on the Little Blue, concluding a march of twenty-four miles. We passed a spot where a new log building had not long since been commenced. Upon entering it a dog was discovered lying on the ground, near some clothing saturated with blood. We endeavored to entice the dog out, but neither threat nor persuasion would induce him to leave his solitary tenement, all we could elicit from him being an inquiring, mournful look which moved the sternest heart to pity. We suspected that the premises had been the scene of foul play, and upon further search a newly made grave was found contiguous to the building. Later we were told that the man who had owned the claim was murdered by a lawless gang of ruffians which infests the neighborhood.

September 24 (Friday). Our odometer registered twenty-three miles. Our camp is near a large elm tree, the only tree to be seen for miles around, wherefore we adopted the name, "Lone Tree Camp." One or two log houses were seen during the day's march, and we derived some comfort from the fact that we are once more getting into an inhabited country.

September 25 (Saturday). We passed several very fine streams in the course of our twenty-three-mile march, but encamped near a nauseous bog from which we were forced to take water for drinking and cooking. We crossed the Big and Little Sandy Creeks, at the latter of which we cut a supply of wood, leaving the sick wagon behind to carry it. At the Big Sandy we saw a very tasty log building, which, together with its grounds, possessed an air of comfort lacking in many farms and houses farther East.

September 26 (Sunday). We continued in camp, an arrangement that accords very well with the dictates of our consciences, which become the more sensitive the nearer we approach to civilization. At the close of the day we sang some sacred songs—a sort of penance for the many breaches of the Fourth Commandment of which we have been guilty during the march.

September 27 (Monday). We encamped at Cottonwood Creek, after a march of twenty-six and a quarter miles. To-day an arrangement was made which conduces greatly to the comfort of the Company. An order was published to the effect that half of the guard should ride half the length of the march, and the other half of the guard the remainder; also that a third of the Company should ride an hour, then to be relieved by another third, and so on. This assisted very much in saving us from the fatigue of steady marching.

September 28 (Tuesday). We marched twenty-four and a half miles and encamped on Small Creek. We crossed the Big Blue River, by fording, this morning, and halted there an hour for rest and to water the mules. We then passed through Palmetto City, and found that since our march through there, in going out, there have been added several more buildings; the place has, in fact, begun to assume the appearance of a thriving little village. The pleasure of entering a store was furnished us, and we gave the astonished proprietors an unusual run of custom for a few minutes.

September 29 (Wednesday). We marched and rode twenty-eight and a quarter miles, and encamped on Big Nemaha Creek. The march afforded nothing of note, with the exception of a watermelon frolic, which occurred during a rest in front of a store. We were so elated at once more coming within reach of fruit that the proprietor was quickly rid of his stock of melons and cantaloupes.

September 30 (Thursday). We pitched our camp on Muddy Creek, concluding a march of twenty-one miles. As there are several farmhouses in the vicinity of our camp, this evening we had an opportunity to enjoy the luxury of butter, milk, cheese, eggs, etc.—which good fortune contributed not a little toward restoring us to cheerfulness and good humor.

October 1 (Friday). Twenty-six and a half miles were left behind, which brought us to the first branch of Grasshopper Creek. Very many comfortable farms were seen, the grounds covered with thriving crops. We crossed the third and second branches of Grasshopper Creek, and Walnut Creek.

October 2 (Saturday). We pitched our camp below Mount Pleasant, a neat little town about thirteen miles from Fort Leavenworth. The day's march amounted to twenty miles. The road presented an unusual sight, in that it was nearly all the way enclosed between two fences. When we passed over this road on our march to Utah, scarcely more than a dozen farms were to be seen, and those but lately commenced; now we are astonished to see the country, for about forty miles from Leavenworth, thickly settled with fine, thriving farms, neatly built houses, and waving fields of grain, enclosed by strong, well built fences.

October 3 (Sunday). To-day we arrived at the termination of our march—the goal that has been so anxiously looked for—and in the midst of a general excitement in the meeting of friends, and the hurry and bustle of unpacking the wagons and carrying their contents into our old quarters, we took possession of our rooms, every one laughing and talking together, exceedingly delighted to think our hardships at last concluded. The evening was employed in ridding ourselves of the soil and stains of our long march; the well-worn prairie uniform being speedily cast off, and new articles of clothing, perseveringly husbanded for this occasion, as quickly taking its place.

[End of narrative.]

Note: But a few days were spent at Fort Leavenworth before the Company resumed the eastward movement, by boat and train, arriving at West Point on the 12th day of October, 1858.

Miles.

The Outward March 989

The Return March 1,0281/3

Extra Marching in Work of Construction 62

Aggregate 2,0791/3