CHAPTER I.

HE FIRST SETTLERS IN NEVADA.

The bare mention of a mine of silver calls up in most minds visions of glittering wealth and a world of romantic situations and associations. All no doubt have read the story of the Indian hunter, Diego Hualca, who, in the year 1545, discovered the world-famous silver-mine of Potosi, Peru. How, while climbing up the face of a steep mountain in pursuit of a wild goat, this fortunate hunter laid hold upon a bush, in order to pull himself up over a steep ledge of rocks, and how the bush was torn out by the roots, when lo! wonderful store of wealth was laid bare. In the roots of the upturned bush, and in the soil of the spot whence it was torn, the eyes of the lone Indian hunter beheld masses of glittering silver.

Having all our lives had in mind this romantic story, and having a thousand times pictured to ourselves the great, shining lumps of native silver, as they lay exposed in the black soil before that Indian, who stood alone in a far-away place on the wild mountain, we are apt to imagine that something of the same kind is to be seen wherever a silver-mine exists. Besides, we have all heard the stories told by the old settlers of the Atlantic States in regard to the wonderful mines of silver known to the Indians in early days.

Hardly a State in the Union but has its legend of a silver-mine known to the red-men when they inhabited the country. This mine was pretty much the same in every State and in every region. Upon the removal of a large flat stone an opening resembling the mouth of a cavern was seen. Entering this, you found yourself in a great crevice in the rocks, and the sides of this crevice were lined with silver, which you forthwith proceeded to hew and chip off with a hatchet kindly furnished you by your Indian guide. You worked rapidly, as, according to contract, you had but a limited time to remain in the mine. When the Indian at your side announced your time up, the tomahawk was taken from your hand, even though you might have an immense mass detached, save a mere clinging thread.

Only men who had saved the life of some Indian of renown were ever led to these silver caverns and they were invariably obliged to submit to be blindfolded, so that none of them were ever able to find their way back to the mines they had been shown.

These and kindred stories have placed masses of native silver, and deposits of rich ores of silver very near to the surface of the ground, in the popular mind. No doubt there are many places in the world where native silver exists almost upon the present surface, as was the case in the Potosi mine, in Peru, and as was the case with the rich deposit of silver ore first found on the Comstock lode, but those who visit the present mines of the Comstock will find little in them that at all agrees with their preconceived notions of silver-mines. On the surface they will find nothing that is glittering, nothing that is at all romantic. The soil looks much the same as in any other mountainous region, and the rocks seem to have a very ordinary look to the inexperienced eye. The general hue of the hills is a yellowish-brown, and all about through the rents in the ashen-hued sagebrush which clothes the country, peep jagged piles of granite—the bones of the land, showing through its rags.

In sketching the history of the famous Comstock silver lode of Nevada, however, and of the bonanza mines, situated on that lode, it seems proper to begin by giving a brief account of the first settlement of the country, when known as Western Utah, and under Mormon, if under any rule; also, to chronicle what is to be gathered in regard to the finding of gold-diggings in that region, the working of which finally resulted in the discovery of the richest silver-mines in the world.

Nevada, as at present bounded, extends from the 35th to the 42d degree of north latitude, and from the 114th to the 120th degree west longitude from Greenwich.

The area of the State is 112,190 square miles, or 71,801,819 acres. Assuming the water-surface of the several lakes in the State to cover an area of 1,690 square miles, or 1,081,819 acres, there remain 110,500 square miles, or 70,720,000 acres as the land-area of the State.

I do not know that this is correct to the fraction of an acre, but, when the quality of the greater part of the land is considered, I don’t think anybody is likely to come along and make trouble about the measurement.

The Sierra Nevada Mountains, with long lines of snowy peaks towering to the clouds, form the western boundary of the State and rise far above any mountain ranges lying to the westward in the Great Basin region, a region largely made up of alkali deserts and rugged, barren hills, yet a country abounding in all manner of minerals.

The rivers of Nevada are none of them of great size. They all pour their waters into lakes that have no outlet, where they sink into the earth or are dissipated by the active evaporation that goes on in all this region during the greater part of the year. Each river empties into its lake, or what in that country is called its “sink.” Not a river of them all gets out of the State or through any other river reaches the sea.

This condition of the rivers of Nevada was once thus curiously accounted for by an old mountaineer and prospector. Said he:

“The way it came about was in this wise—The Almighty, at the time he was creatin’ and fashionin’ of this here yearth, got along to this section late on Saturday evening. He had finished all of the great lakes, like Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie and them—had made the Ohio, Missouri and Mississippi rivers, and, as a sort of wind-up, was about to make a river that would be far ahead of anything he had yet done in that line. So he started in and traced out Humboldt River, and Truckee River, and Walker River, and Reese River, and all the other rivers, and he was leadin’ of them along, calkerlatin’ to bring ’em all together into one big boss river and then lead that off and let it empty into the Gulf of Mexico or the Gulf of California, as might be most convenient; but as he was bringin’ down and leadin’ along the several branches—the Truckee, Humboldt, Carson, Walker, and them—it came on dark and instead of trying to carry out the original plan, he jist tucked the lower ends of the several streams into the ground, whar they have remained from that day to this.”

Carson River and Carson Valley were named in honor of Kit Carson, the famous Indian fighter, trapper, and guide, who visited that region as early as 1833. He was accompanied by old Jim Beckworth, once chief of the Crow Indians, three Crow Indians and some white trappers—nine men in all. The party passed over the Sierra Nevada Mountains to California.

Thirteen years later when with Col. J. C. Fremont, Kit Carson followed his old trail in crossing the Sierras, going in the direction of Bear River, and at last, ascending a high hill in the neighborhood of where Rough-and-Ready, California, now stands, Kit struck a landmark he well remembered. Pointing out the blue peaks of the Marysville Buttes, seen far away in the smoky distance, he said, “Yonder lies the valley of the Sacramento!”

At the time of the discovery of silver, the principal settlement in that part of Utah which afterwards became the Territory and eventually the State of Nevada, was at Genoa, now the county-seat of Douglas county and situated about fourteen miles south of Carson City, the capital of the State. To all who crossed the Plains, on their way to the gold-fields of California, in the early days, Genoa was known as “Mormon Station,” a name it continued to bear for some years. Even after the name had been changed to Genoa, many of the old settlers persisted in calling the place Mormon Station.

The first building of a permanent character erected in Genoa was built by Col. John Reese, who came from Salt Lake City early in the spring of 1851 with a stock of dry-goods. This first structure was a large log-house, covering an area of forty-five square yards, was in the form of an L and at one time formed two sides of a pentagon-shaped fort. Colonel Reese bought the land on which the town of Genoa now stands, with a farm adjoining, of Captain Jim, of the Washoe tribe of Indians, for two sacks of flour.

[Illustration: KIT CARSON.]

Besides the settlement at Mormon Station, a settlement, also by Mormons, was commenced in the spring of 1853 at Franktown, Washoe Valley. Quite a little hamlet was formed at Franktown; and others of the colony settled at various points along the west side of the valley at the base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Several Mormon families still reside in this neighborhood and occasionally the voice of the Mormon preacher is yet to be heard.

Orson Hyde, a man of considerable note at Salt Lake, had in charge the spiritual and temporal welfare of the Mormon settlements in the early days, he being both preacher and Justice of the Peace.

At this time in the history of the country there was no town in Eagle Valley, where Carson City now stands. The first building erected in that neighborhood was at Eagle Ranche, from which ranche the valley took its name. This place was afterwards better known as King’s Ranche, a name it still bears. Two or three houses were next built on the present site of Carson City, but the town was not regularly laid out until 1858, when the land was purchased by Major Ormsby, who gave the place the name it now bears.

Although these early settlements were made upon lands belonging to the Washoe Indians, a tribe of considerable strength at the time, yet no very serious battles were ever had with them. The whites, however, who were at first a mere handful, Mormons and “Gentiles,” all told, stood in considerable awe of the redskins. They were obliged to quietly endure not a few insults from some of the bullies of the tribe, who had a fashion of walking into houses and making themselves at home in the cupboards. They were often exceedingly insolent, and when only women and children were found at a house, always managed to frighten them into giving up most of the provisions about the place.

In one instance, however, an Indian who went to the house of a Gentile, when the only occupants were a boy about twelve years of age and his sister still younger, met a fate he little anticipated. The Indian, after regaling himself in the pantry, began threatening the children with a roasting at the stake, for the purpose of enjoying their fright; and, finally, whipping out a big knife, began “making believe” to take the scalp of the little girl. The boy, it would seem, thought they had had about enough of this foolishness, as he went into an adjoining room, took down his father’s rifle and returning to where the brave was flourishing his knife and enjoying himself, shot him dead in his tracks.

The Indian killed was one of the worst in the Washoe tribe, and was greatly dreaded in all the settlements. The father of the boy who rid the country of the much-feared Indian bully, was obliged to “pull up stakes” at once and fly to California for safety.

The Washoes inhabited the eastern slope of the Sierras, and made the stealing of the stock of the settlers both their business and their pleasure. Like crows they sat looking down into the valleys from the tops of the rocky buttresses of the mountains, and when they saw the coast clear, down they came and gathered in as many animals as they were able to drive.

Whenever the whites were so incautious as to collect for the purpose of enjoying a ball or any such social festivity, the Washoes were pretty sure to know of the affair, and seldom neglected to swoop from their mountain fastnesses, gathering up and driving away whatever animals they could find. The trail of the Indian depredators, when followed, was generally found marked with the remains of roasted horses—the Washoes having a great fondness for horse-flesh. On the occasion of a ball in Dayton, as late as 1854, the Washoes came down and “gobbled up” all the horses of the revellers. The Indians appeared to think this cunning and a very good joke.

Although Colonel Reese had about his big log-house at Mormon Station, a strong stockade, that defence was never required as a protection against the Washoe Indians. The tribe has dwindled away until at the present day those remaining are few and miserably poor, ragged, filthy, and spiritless. They now cling to the skirts of the white man and stand in awe of all surrounding tribes of Indians, even in time of peace.

The settlements thus far mentioned were all scattered along the eastern base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, but as early as 1851, there were erected a few temporary structures, principally canvas houses, at various points to the eastward, along the line of the main “Emigrant Road.” This, the then grand highway across the continent, after passing through some of the worst and most dreaded deserts between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierras, led to the well-watered and fertile valley of the Carson, a region that doubtless seemed almost a paradise to the weary emigrant, who for months and months had been toiling over rugged mountains and across sterile plains.

Mormon Station being directly on the old Hangtown (afterwards Placerville) Road, then the principal route over the Sierras, drove a thriving trade with the thousands and tens of thousands of adventurers who were then pushing their way toward the gold-fields of California. Seeing that there was money in this trade, not a few adventurers, principally from Salt Lake and California, established posts on the line of the road to the eastward of Mormon Station and Eagle Ranche, a few even pushing out a considerable distance into the deserts. The majority of these traders, however, returned to California each season, following in the wake of the last emigrant-trains that came in over the Plains, and there remained until the tide of emigration began to pour in again the next year.

These traders furnished the “pilgrims” cheap luxuries at outrageously high prices, traded for their disabled cattle and swindled them in every possible manner, as they all considered the emigrant their lawful prey.