never touched a dollar except twenty came back in its place.”
• • •
In 1867, W.A. found that he couldearn a bigger profit by hauling the U.S. mail from the headwaters of the Columbia River, near Missoula in western Montana, through northern Idaho to Walla Walla, then the largest community in Washington Territory, a distance of more than 450 miles. As a subcontractor of the U.S. government, he organized a system of ponies, riders, boats, and way stations that provided mail delivery three times a week.
The dangers of these mountain trails were real and present, but at age twenty-eight, W.A. was courageous—or headstrong. In 1868, he spent days riding his Cayuse pony, a cheap working horse, on his turn on thetrail. W.A. followed the Clark Fork § through Indian country, then along the northeast flank of the Bitterroot Mountains into Idaho Territory. At night, he wrote in his journal, marveling at the scenic beauty, grumbling about the difficulty of finding a decent book to read in the wilderness, and calmly recording the dangers.
At one stop, he wrote:
I was entertained while drinking my tea by this young Welshman, whom I employ to take care of this station on account of themassacre at Ft. Phil Kearney, he having been there at the time, Dec. 21st, 1866, 94 men were massacred within 3 miles of the Post. All were scalped save two and all save one were stripped of their clothing, turned with their faces downward and their backs stuck full of arrow. No bows were found and the arrows were recognized by their peculiar shape to belong to the Sioux, the Arapaho, and the Cheyenne. One was not scalped because of his baldness, but in lieu thereof they took his whiskers and mustache, and another for some reason was not scalped, was left with his face upward, was not stripped of his clothing, and was covered with a buffalo robe. It is supposed they knew him and perhaps had received some act of kindness from his hands, and thus thanked him with respect.
The news of the massacre was fresh in his mind as he traveled through the wilderness, often hearing sounds in the trees. “The weather is very cold and frosty,” he wrote in his journal, “and as I rode along solitary through this dense forest of pines I was frequently startled by a loud report near me like the explosion of a blast.” It was not gunfire, but was instead “caused by the expansion bursting of the wood or bark of the trees by the frost.” Relieved, he stopped at a way station “and took my supper cheerfully by a sparkling fire.”
• • •
Indian massacres were not the only dangers W.A. faced. On January 30, 1868, he stepped into a situation that nearly cost him his life.
Clear and cold morning, reached crossing of Deer Lodge river at McCarthy’s ferry at 10. Found the river frozen over and a beaten track on both sides of the river that led me to believe it a regular crossing. I therefore got off my horse and led him on, feeling carefully and trying to test the ice with my heel.
It gave no indication of breaking and perhaps would have borne me safely over, but no sooner had my horse stepped his whole weight upon it than down we went in five feet of water.
I was fortunate enough to catch on the edge of the ice and prevented myself being swept down by the current and endeavored to raise myself out, but loaded down with overshoes, overcoat and muffler my efforts were futile and in vain did I cry for help.
The ice being very slippery, it was with difficulty I retained my hold until I succeeded in pulling my gloves successively from each hand with my teeth. At this moment my poor horse came up close behind, and placing one foot against his shoulder I made a desperate effort and scrambled out upon the ice next to the shore where it was very thick and firm. My horse again came up to me, nothing being visible except his head and the top of my saddle. I plunged my arm down by the water, uncinched the saddle and threw it off with cantinas on the pommel
• • •
In 1867, W.A. found that he couldearn a bigger profit by hauling the U.S. mail from the headwaters of the Columbia River, near Missoula in western Montana, through northern Idaho to Walla Walla, then the largest community in Washington Territory, a distance of more than 450 miles. As a subcontractor of the U.S. government, he organized a system of ponies, riders, boats, and way stations that provided mail delivery three times a week.
The dangers of these mountain trails were real and present, but at age twenty-eight, W.A. was courageous—or headstrong. In 1868, he spent days riding his Cayuse pony, a cheap working horse, on his turn on thetrail. W.A. followed the Clark Fork § through Indian country, then along the northeast flank of the Bitterroot Mountains into Idaho Territory. At night, he wrote in his journal, marveling at the scenic beauty, grumbling about the difficulty of finding a decent book to read in the wilderness, and calmly recording the dangers.
At one stop, he wrote:
I was entertained while drinking my tea by this young Welshman, whom I employ to take care of this station on account of themassacre at Ft. Phil Kearney, he having been there at the time, Dec. 21st, 1866, 94 men were massacred within 3 miles of the Post. All were scalped save two and all save one were stripped of their clothing, turned with their faces downward and their backs stuck full of arrow. No bows were found and the arrows were recognized by their peculiar shape to belong to the Sioux, the Arapaho, and the Cheyenne. One was not scalped because of his baldness, but in lieu thereof they took his whiskers and mustache, and another for some reason was not scalped, was left with his face upward, was not stripped of his clothing, and was covered with a buffalo robe. It is supposed they knew him and perhaps had received some act of kindness from his hands, and thus thanked him with respect.
The news of the massacre was fresh in his mind as he traveled through the wilderness, often hearing sounds in the trees. “The weather is very cold and frosty,” he wrote in his journal, “and as I rode along solitary through this dense forest of pines I was frequently startled by a loud report near me like the explosion of a blast.” It was not gunfire, but was instead “caused by the expansion bursting of the wood or bark of the trees by the frost.” Relieved, he stopped at a way station “and took my supper cheerfully by a sparkling fire.”
• • •
Indian massacres were not the only dangers W.A. faced. On January 30, 1868, he stepped into a situation that nearly cost him his life.
Clear and cold morning, reached crossing of Deer Lodge river at McCarthy’s ferry at 10. Found the river frozen over and a beaten track on both sides of the river that led me to believe it a regular crossing. I therefore got off my horse and led him on, feeling carefully and trying to test the ice with my heel.
It gave no indication of breaking and perhaps would have borne me safely over, but no sooner had my horse stepped his whole weight upon it than down we went in five feet of water.
I was fortunate enough to catch on the edge of the ice and prevented myself being swept down by the current and endeavored to raise myself out, but loaded down with overshoes, overcoat and muffler my efforts were futile and in vain did I cry for help.
The ice being very slippery, it was with difficulty I retained my hold until I succeeded in pulling my gloves successively from each hand with my teeth. At this moment my poor horse came up close behind, and placing one foot against his shoulder I made a desperate effort and scrambled out upon the ice next to the shore where it was very thick and firm. My horse again came up to me, nothing being visible except his head and the top of my saddle. I plunged my arm down by the water, uncinched the saddle and threw it off with cantinas on the pommel
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