THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL, COLONEL HENRY INMAN [well read books .txt] 📗

This Was Probably

Owing To Williams' Failing Intellect, For When He Joined the Great

Explorer He Was Past The Meridian Of Life.  Now The Old Mountaineers

Contend That If Fremont Had Profited by The Old Man'S Advice, He Would

Never Have Run Into The Deathtrap Which Cost Him Three Men, And

In Which He Lost All His Valuable Papers, His Instruments, And The

Animals Which He And His Party Were Riding.  The Expedition Had

Followed the Arkansas River To Its Source, And The General Had

Selected a Route Which He Desired to Pursue In crossing The Mountains.

It Was Winter, And Williams Explained to Him That It Was Perfectly

Impracticable To Get Over At That Season.  The General, However,

Ignoring The Statement, Listened to Another Of His Party, A Man Who

Had No Such Experience But Said That He Could Pilot The Expedition.

Before They Had Fairly Started, They Were Caught In one Of The Most

Terrible Snowstorms The Region Had Ever Witnessed, In which All Their

Horses And Mules Were Literally Frozen To Death.  Then, When It Was

Too Late, They Turned back, Abandoning Their Instruments, And Able

Only To Carry Along A Very Limited stock Of Food.  The Storm Continued

To Rage, So That Even Williams Failed to Prevent Them From Getting

Lost, And They Wandered about Aimlessly For Many Days Before They

Luckily Arrived at Taos, Suffering Seriously From Exhaustion And

Hunger.  Three Of The Men Were Frozen To Death On The Return Trip,

And The Remaining Fifteen Were Little Better Than Dead When Uncle

Dick Wooton Happened to Run Across Them And Piloted them Into The

Village.  It Was Immediately After This Disaster That The Three Most

Noted men In the Mountains--Carson, Maxwell, And Dick Owens--Became The

Guides Of The Pathfinder, With Whom He Had No Trouble, And To Whom

He Owed more Of His Success Than History Has Given Them Credit For.

 

 

 

At One Period Of His Eventful Career, While He Lived in missouri,

Before He Wandered to The Mountains, Old Bill Williams Was A Methodist

Preacher; Of Which Fact He Boasted frequently While He Trapped and

Hunted with Other Pioneers.  Whenever He Related that Portion Of His

Early Life, He Declared that He "Was So Well Known In his Circuit,

That The Chickens Recognized him As He Came Riding By The Scattered

Farmhouses, And The Old Roosters Would Crow 'Here Comes Parson

Williams!  One Of Us Must Be Made Ready For Dinner.'"

 

 

 

Upon Leaving The States, He Travelled very Extensively Among The

Various Tribes Of Indians Who Roamed over The Great Plains And In the

Mountains.  When Sojourning With A Certain Band, He Would Invariably

Adopt Their Manners And Customs.  Whenever He Grew Tired of That

Nation, He Would Seek Another And Live As They Lived.  He Had Been

So Long Among The Savages That He Looked and Talked like One, And

Had Imbibed many Of Their Strange Notions And Curious Superstitions.

 

 

 

To The Missionaries He Was Very Useful.  He Possessed the Faculty

Of Easily Acquiring Languages That Other White Men Failed to Learn,

And Could Readily Translate The Bible Into Several Indian Dialects.

His Own Conduct, However, Was In strange Contrast With The Precepts

Of The Holy Book With Which He Was So Familiar.

 

 

 

To The Native Mexicans He Was A Holy Terror And An Unsolvable Riddle.

They Thought Him Possessed of An Evil Spirit.  He At One Time Took Up

His Residence Among Them And Commenced to Trade.  Shortly After He

Had Established himself And Gathered in a Stock Of Goods, He Became

Involved in a Dispute With Some Of His Customers In relation To His

Prices.  Upon This He Apparently Took An Intense Dislike To The

People Whom He Had Begun To Traffic With, And In his Disgust Tossed

His Whole Mass Of Goods Into The Street, And, Taking Up His Rifle,

Left At Once For The Mountains.

 

 

 

Among The Many Wild Ideas He Had Imbibed from His Long Association

With The Indians, Was Faith In their Belief In the Transmigration

Of Souls.  He Used so To Worry His Brain For Hours Cogitating Upon

This Intricate Problem Concerning a Future State, That He Actually

Pretended to Know Exactly The Animal Whose Place He Was Destined to

Fill In the World After He Had Shaken Off This Mortal Human Coil.

 

 

 

Uncle Dick Wooton Told How Once, When He, Old Bill Williams, And

Many Other Trappers, Were Lying around The Camp-Fire One Night,

The Strange Fellow, In a Preaching Style Of Delivery, Related to Them

All How He Was To Be Changed into A Buck Elk And Intended to Make

His Pasture In the Very Region Where They Then Were.  He Described

Certain Peculiarities Which Would Distinguish Him From The Common

Run Of Elk, And Was Very Careful To Caution All Those Present Never

To Shoot Such An Animal, Should They Ever Run Across Him.

 

 

 

Williams Was Regarded as A Warm-Hearted, Brave, And Generous Man.

He Was At Last Killed by The Indians, While Trading With Them, But

Has Left His Name To Many Mountain Peaks, Rivers, And Passes

Discovered by Him.

 

 

 

Tom Tobin, One Of The Last Of The Famous Trappers, Hunters, And Indian

Fighters To Cross The Dark River, Flourished in the Early Days, When

The Rocky Mountains Were A Veritable Terra Incognita To Nearly All

Excepting The Hardy Employees Of The Several Fur Companies And The

Limited number Of United states Troops Stationed in their Remote Wilds.

 

 

 

Tom Was An Irishman, Quick-Tempered, And A Dead Shot With Either

Rifle, Revolver, Or The Formidable Bowie-Knife.  He Would Fight At

The Drop Of The Hat, But No Man Ever Went Away From His Cabin Hungry,

If He Had A Crust To Divide; Or Penniless, If There Was Anything

Remaining In his Purse.

 

 

 

He, Like Carson, Was Rather Under The Average Stature, Red-Faced,

And Lacking Much Of Being an Adonis, But Whole-Souled, And As Quick

In His Movements As An Antelope.

 

 

 

Tobin Played an Important Role In avenging The Death Of The Americans

Killed in the Taos Massacre, At The Storming Of The Indian Pueblo,

But His Greatest Achievement Was The Ending Of The Noted bandit

Espinosa'S Life, Who, At The Height Of His Career Of Blood, Was The

Terror Of The Whole Mountain Region.

 

 

 

At The Time Of The Acquisition Of New Mexico By The United states,

Espinosa, Who Was A Mexican, Owning Vast Herds Of Cattle And Sheep,

Resided upon His Ancestral Hacienda In a Sort Of Barbaric Luxury,

With A Host Of Semi-Serfs, Known As Peons, To Do His Bidding, As Did

The Other "Muy Ricos," The "Dons," So Called, Of His Class Of Natives.

These Self-Styled aristocrats Of The Wild Country All Boasted of

Their Castilian Blue Blood, Claiming Descent From The Nobles Of

Cortez' Army, But The Fact Is, However, With Rare Exceptions, That

Their Male Ancestors, The Rank And File Of That Army, Intermarried

With The Aztec Women, And They Were Really Only A Mixture Of Indian

And Spanish.

 

 

 

It So Happened that Espinosa Met An Adventurous American, Who, With

Hundreds Of Others, Had Been Attached to The "Army Of Occupation"

In The Mexican War, Or Had Emigrated from The States To Seek Their

Fortunes In the Newly Acquired and Much Over-Rated territory.

 

 

 

The Mexican Don And The American Became Fast Friends, The Latter

Making His Home With His Newly Found Acquaintance At The Beautiful

Ranch In the Mountains, Where They Played the Role Of A Modern Damon

And Pythias.

 

 

 

Now With Don Espinosa Lived his Sister, A Dark-Eyed, Bewitchingly

Beautiful Girl About Seventeen Years Old, With Whom The Susceptible

American Fell Deeply In love, And His Affection Was Reciprocated

By The Maiden, With A Fervour Of Which Only The Women Of The Race

From Which She Sprang Are Capable.

 

 

 

The Fascinating american Had Brought With Him From His Home In one

Of The New England States A Large Amount Of Money, For His Parents

Were Rich, And Spared no Indulgence To Their Only Son.  He Very Soon

Unwisely Made Espinosa His Confidant, And Told Him Of The Wealth

He Possessed.

 

 

 

One Night After The American Had Retired to His Chamber, Adjoining

That Of His Host, He Was Surprised, Shortly After He Had Gone To Bed,

By Discovering a Man Standing Over Him, Whose Hand Had Already Grasped

The Buckskin Bag Under His Pillow Which Contained a Considerable

Portion Of His Gold And Silver.  He Sprang From His Couch And Fired

His Pistol At Random In the Darkness At The Would-Be Robber.

 

 

 

Espinosa, For It Was He, Was Wounded slightly, And, Being Either

Enraged or Frightened, He Stabbed with His Keen-Pointed stiletto,

Which All Mexicans Then Carried, The Young Man Whom He Had Invited

To Become His Guest, And The Blade Entered the American'S Heart,

Killing Him Instantly.

 

 

 

The Report Of The Pistol-Shot Awakened the Other Members Of The

Household, Who Came Rushing Into The Room Just As The Victim Was

Breathing His Last.  Among Them Was The Sister Of The Murderer,

Who, Throwing Herself On The Body Of Her Dead Lover, Poured forth

The Most Bitter Curses Upon Her Brother.

 

 

 

Espinosa, Realizing The Terrible Position In which He Had Placed

Himself, Then And There Determined to Become An Outlaw, As He Could

Frame No Excuse For His Wicked deed.  He Therefore Hid Himself

At Once In the Mountains, Carrying With Him, Of Course, The Sack

Containing The Murdered american'S Money.

 

 

 

Some Time Necessarily Passed before He Could Get Together A Sufficient

Number Of Cut-Throats And Renegades From Justice To Enable Him Wholly

To Defy The Authorities; But At Last He Succeeded in rallying a

Strong Force To His Standard Of Blood, And Became The Terror Of The

Whole Region, Equalling In boldness And Audacity The Terrible Joaquin,

Of California Notoriety In after Years.

 

 

 

His Headquarters Were In the Almost Impregnable Fastnesses Of The

Sangre De Cristo Mountains, From Which He Made His Invariably

Successful Raids Into The Rich Valleys Below.  There Was Nothing

Too Bloody For Him To Shrink From; He Robbed indiscriminately The

Overland Coaches To Santa Fe, The Freight Caravans Of The Traders

And Government, The Ranches Of The Mexicans, Or Stole From The Poorer

Classes, Without Any Compunction.  He Ran Off Horses, Cattle, Sheep--

In Fact, Anything That He Could Utilize.  If Murder Was Necessary

To The Completion Of His Work, He Never For A Moment Hesitated.

Kidnapping, Too, Was A Favourite Pastime; But He Rarely Carried

Away To His Rendezvous Any Other Than The Most Beautiful Of The

New Mexican Young Girls, Whom He Held In his Mountain Den Until

They Were Ransomed, Or Subjected to A Fate More Terrible.

 

 

 

In 1864 The Bandit, After Nearly Ten Years Of Unparalleled outlawry,

Was Killed by Tobin.  Tom Had Been On His Trail For Some Time, And

At Last Tracked him To A Temporary Camp In the Foot-Hills, Which

He Accidentally Discovered in a Grove Of Cottonwoods, By The Smoke

Of The Little Camp-Fire As It Curled in light Wreaths Above The Trees.

 

 

 

Tobin Knew That At The Time There Was But One Of Espinosa'S Followers

With Him, As He Had Watched them Both For Some Days, Waiting For An

Opportunity To Get The Drop On Them.  To Capture The Pair Of Outlaws

Alive Never Entered his Thoughts; He Was As Cautious As Brave, And

To Get Them Dead Was Much Safer And Easier; So He Crept Up To The

Grove On His Belly, Indian Fashion, And Lying Behind The Cover Of

A Friendly Log, Waited until The Noted desperado Stood Up, When He

Pulled the Trigger Of His Never-Erring Rifle, And Espinosa Fell Dead.

A Second Shot Quickly Disposed of His Companion, And The Old Trapper'S

Mission Was Accomplished.

 

 

 

To Be Able To Claim The Reward Offered by The Authorities, Tom Had

To Prove, Beyond The Possibility Of Doubt, That Those Whom He Had

Killed were The Dreaded bandit And One Of His Gang.  He Thought It

Best To Cut Off Their Heads, Which He Deliberately Did, And Packing

Them On His Mule In a Gunny-Sack, He Brought Them Into Old Fort

Massachusetts, Afterward Fort Garland, Where They Were Speedily

Recognized; But Whether Tom Ever Received the Reward, I Have My

Doubts, As He Never Claimed that He Did.  Tobin Died only A Short

Time Ago, Gray, Grizzled, And Venerable, His Memory Respected by All

Who Had Ever Met Him.

 

 

 

James Hobbs, Among All The Men Of Whom I Have Presented a Hurried

Sketch, Had Perhaps A More Varied experience Than Any Of His Colleagues.

During His Long Life On The Frontier, He Was In turn A Prisoner Among

The Savages, And Held For Years By Them; An Excellent Soldier In

The War With Mexico; An Efficient Officer In the Revolt Against

Maximilian, When The Attempt Of Napoleon To Establish An Empire On

This Continent, With That Unfortunate Prince At Its Head, Was Defeated;

An Indian Fighter; A Miner; A Trapper; A Trader, And A Hunter.

 

 

 

Hobbs Was Born In the Shawnee Nation, On The Big Blue, About

Twenty-Three Miles From Independence, Missouri.  His Early Childhood

Was Entrusted to One Of His Father'S Slaves.  Reared on The Eastern

Limit Of The Border, He Very Soon Became Familiar With The Use Of

The