CHAPTER XIV.

MIGRATION ON A LARGE SCALE.

On the Pacific Coast there is felt every spring a kind of unrest—men of all classes feel as if they should go somewhere. This feeling is particularly strong among miners, and they look about to see if some region cannot be thought of into which they may make a prospecting raid. Others feel like going up into the mountains, or some wild and far-away region, on general principles—just to be rambling and seeing something new and picturesque. To desire to be on the move when spring opens appears to be natural to all mankind—to be a sort of animal instinct implanted in the human race, and an instinct probably never wholly eradicated by the influences of even the most refined civilization.

With the opening of spring, our Indians and all savage tribes of people are on the move. Even among wild animals the same migratory instinct is to be observed. Bear, deer, elk, and other animals that have wintered in the valleys, move up into the mountains, when the snow has disappeared under the warmth of the returning sun. The spring unrest is doubtless now much less strong within us, than at that remote period when we sported tails, yet we still retain in some degree this instinct of our former savage state; it is still in us, and at each return of the season for breaking up camp and moving out of winter quarters it takes possession of us. In the older settled communities, the people may not think of wandering to any great distance, but even there the farmer feels best when he is rambling in his farthest fields, and his wife prefers working in her garden and roving in the open air, to remaining in her house.

No doubt in the dim and distant ages of the past—when we still retained our caudal appendages—spring was a stirring season with the race. There was then a general awakening of the tribes. Knowing nothing, at that time, of the means by which we might provide artificial warmth, when the rigors of winter began to be felt we all left the mountains. Descending into the deepest and most sheltered valleys, we there hibernated, as best we might, in the mouths of caves and in sunny nooks among the hills, till the spring sun again warmed us into life. When it was judged time to be on the move toward the mountains, the sagacious elders probably took up their position on some prominent ledge of rock above the sheltering ravine in which the winter had been passed, and addressed the assembled tribe. What a glad chorus of yelps applauded the sage chatterings of the orators, and what a wildly exultant waving of tails was there when it was known all were to migrate “to fresh woods and pastures new!”

The discovery of the silver mines in Nevada gave all an excellent opportunity of gratifying their migratory instincts, and miners and men of all classes and all trades and professions flocked over the Sierras, in the spring of 1860.

At first they came on foot, driving donkeys or other pack-animals before them, or on horseback, riding where they could and leading their horses where the snow was soft, but soon sleighs and stages were started, and in some shape floundered through with their passengers. Saddle trains for passengers were started, however, before vehicles of any kind began to run, and the snow passed over was in many places from thirty to sixty feet in depth.

At first there was not sufficient shelter for the newcomers, and they crowded to overflowing every building of whatever kind, in all the towns along the Comstock range. But houses were rapidly being built in all directions, and the weather soon became warm enough to allow of camping out in comfort almost anywhere; men who had rolled up in their blankets and slept on the snow, high up on the frosty Sierras, did not much mind sleeping in the open air on the lower hills.

The newcomers from California not only prospected in the neighborhood of Virginia, Gold Hill, Silver City, and all the hills surrounding these towns and the Comstock, but scouted out in all directions to the distance of from fifty to one hundred miles. They generally went in parties of from five or six to a dozen or more men, and when they traveled any great distance, were mounted, and had pack animals with them, to carry their provisions and tools.

The excitement in regard to the mines discovered and being worked, those newly found and those yet to be found—in regard to town sites, mill sites and all manner of property in the new land—was at its greatest height, when that occurred which for a time paralyzed every industry, and alike brought business and prospecting to a stand. A Pony rider—the mail was then being carried across the Plains and over the Sierras to California by Pony Express—came in and reported that the Piute Indians, till then friendly toward the whites, had burned Williams’ Station, on the Carson River, thirty-one miles below Dayton, and had murdered two or three men whom they found in charge.

The news that the Piutes were on the war path, and had begun killing and burning, spread like wild-fire through the several towns and settlements of the country. It was determined that the murderous redskins should be punished. There was a call for volunteers in all the towns, and the call was promptly responded to everywhere.

The news of the burning of Williams’ Station, and the murders there, reached Virginia City, May 8th, 1860, and May 9th a party of 105 men, volunteers from the several towns, under command of Major Ormsby, of Carson City, marched down the Carson River for the purpose of overtaking the Indians, and inflicting upon them a proper chastisement.

As I am not writing a history of Nevada I shall leave a detailed account of the “Indian war” to be given by some future writer. I shall but briefly sketch this first and last Indian trouble in Nevada, not attempting to give the names of more than a few of the men who were prominent participants in the battles at Pyramid Lake.

The men under Major Ormsby were poorly armed, badly mounted, and almost wholly unorganized. The majority of the men thought that there would not be much of a fight. They thought they should probably have a bit of a skirmish with the Indians, kill a few of them, capture a lot of ponies, and on the whole have rather a good time. Major Ormsby and a few of the leading men and old settlers doubtless knew the Indians better, but most of the recent arrivals from California who volunteered on the occasion thought it would turn out a sort of pleasure excursion. They were wofully disappointed. Finding no Indians at Williams’ Station on his arrival there, Major Ormsby and command marched toward Pyramid Lake, known to be the headquarters of the Piute tribe in that region of country, and distant less than two days’ march.

On the morning of the 12th of May, on the Truckee River, at a point about three miles from Pyramid Lake, they found a party of Indians occupying a strong position on a rocky hill. They attacked these Indians, who retreated after firing a few shots, falling back along the sides of a ravine.

As the Indians fell back they continued a scattering fire. The whites charged into the ravine in pursuit. They had proceeded some distance when a body of two or three hundred Indians suddenly confronted them, pouring into their ranks in quick succession several deadly volleys.

On the side of the whites many men and horses fell at this spot. The volunteers were staggered by this sudden onslaught, and made but a feeble reply to the fire of the enemy. At this critical juncture it was observed that the Indians were gathering in the ravine behind them, when a precipitate retreat was made for a piece of woods on the river. The Indians hotly pursued them, firing as they advanced. At the edge of the wood the whites dismounted and tried to make a stand, but the Indians gathered from all sides, pouring in a rapid and galling fire, killing several men and horses. The men were then ordered to mount for another charge. While this was being done the Indians rushed forward, firing and yelling, throwing the whites into a confusion which ended in a precipitate and disorderly retreat.

Many men had no horses, and these fell an easy prey to the elated and victorious savages who pursued the whites a distance of fifteen or twenty miles, even overtaking and killing men who were tolerably well mounted.

The trail of the retreating volunteers was strewn with dead bodies, saddles, guns, knives, pistols, and blankets, thrown away when the chase became desperate, and every man was trying to save his own life. Of the 105 men who went into the fight 76 were killed and a few wounded, slightly, who managed to escape.

Among the killed was Major Ormsby, the commander of the expedition, an old resident in the country; and Henry Meredith, a young lawyer from Nevada City, California, a man well-known and highly esteemed on the Pacific Coast. At the first volley fired by the Indians, in the cañon into which the command had been entrapped, Meredith was wounded and fell from his horse, but rose on one knee and fired three shots from his revolver as the foe advanced upon him.

When the survivors of this slaughter reached Virginia City and told the news of the defeat, the excitement was intense. In all the towns it began to be feared that the Indians, elated by their victory, would come in and sweep everything before them. It was said that there were 500 warriors in the fight at Pyramid Lake and it was supposed that the Piutes could muster 5,000 men. Dispatches were sent to California for regular troops, and as the news spread men volunteered and companies were formed in Sacramento, Nevada City and Downieville, California. Men also volunteered again in the several Washoe towns, and soon an army of several hundred men, regulars and volunteers, was in the field for the effectual putting down of the savages.

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