The Slower Road

… continued from yesterday’s post …

“On the morning of the 18th I was up and around early, getting ready to go on and about six o’clock broke camp for Muddy Creek, which I reached about ten o’clock. This creek is about four rods across; had it been six, it would have been much better to cross. A large body of water flows past and its banks are full and overflowing. A short distance below the ford, there is a bend in the river which sets the water back, making the ford deep, with a strong current.

“It was discouraging; I felt blue and being all alone I was disheartened. In order to ascertain the depth of the water, I took out my horse, got on to her back and made an attempt to cross, but she would not go into the water. I made several attempts, but with no further success. It was a warm day and I remembered what the man said at Evanston: ‘The warmer the day, the higher the river.’ I went back to my wagon, removed the harness and turned the horse loose, the cow also. I returned to the river and made a mark, so that I could tell whether the water was rising or falling.

“I then returned to my carriage, gathered some wood and made a fire; made some coffee, boiled some eggs, and ate my dinner. Having some oil, I concluded to give my harness a good limbering up. Several times I went to the river to see whether the water was higher or lower. Before night, the river had fallen about four inches, and I thought that by morning I should be able to cross.”

… to be continued …

When we last checked in with Mr. Johnson, he had just forded the Bear River. Here’s what happened during the remainder of that day …

“Evanston is a thorough business town; one of more than ordinary enterprise. There are churches and schoolhouses, which are something new, I have not seen them with but one exception for a great many miles; yes, for hundreds of miles. There is more of New England in this place than in any other town I have passed through, with one exception, since leaving California. All trains stop here and time is allowed for dinner. The express from the East arrives at 1:50 p.m.; from the West at 3:50 p.m. On leaving here, after crossing the Bear River, my direction was eastward, the railroad on my right.

“After traveling about eight miles I came to another trail, but did not know whether I should take it or not. Having passed but one house since leaving in the morning, there was not much chance to get information. Looking around I could see but one way and that was to my right. On my left were mountains and on the right the railroad.

“I thought it safest to take the right-hand trail, and did so. I am now on a good trail, traveling at the rate of three miles an hour. About eleven o’clock I came in sight of a covered wagon; before reaching the wagon I saw two men with a herd of sheep and made for them. On reaching them I made known my business, relating my long story and said I had come from Evanston this morning, and on coming to two trails I took this one. ‘Am I on the right trail to Green River City?’ ‘You are not; you should have taken the other trail,’ said the strangers. ‘I suppose I shall have to go back and take the other trail?’ ‘I think you had better go back and take the other trail. If you were acquainted with the surroundings, you might get through, but as you are a stranger it is doubtful if you could find the trail.’ ‘What is the time of day?’ I asked. ‘It is about noon. Stranger, stop and get some dinner with us, we will give you some mutton and your cattle some grain, that is the best we can do.’ ‘That is good enough, I will stop; such an invitation should not be passed by.’ My cattle were fed with grain, myself with mutton chop and at one o’clock I counter-marched back to the trail I should have taken, which if taken at first would have saved me five hours’ travel, and lost me a good dinner.

“This new trail is a good road. After traveling about the same length of time I came to a ranch, on approaching which I found two men present. After introducing myself to the gentlemen, I inquired of them whether I was on the right trail to the creek called the Muddy. ‘You are,’ they answered. ‘How far is it?’ ‘About two miles,’ they said. ‘Have you any objection to my company here?’ ‘Oh, no; not in the least,’ they answered. It was then 6 p.m., so I told them I would camp with them. I took the horse from the carriage and turned her loose; the cow I staked out. After supper I secured my cattle to their several posts, spread my blankets on the ground and went to bed.

“About midnight I was  awakened by the howling of dogs; they do duty at night and are good shepherds and no mistake. There are two animals that are very troublesome to sheep owners, the wolf and the coyote; they can smell sheep a very long way off, I am told.

“I will give you a description of a sheep ranch; there are two within two miles of where I am camped. This ranch is a long wagon, about eighteen feet long, by six and a half wide, covered with heavy canvas. In the front part is a stove suitable for cooking, with all the necessary utensils. In the center there is a table four feet long, and in the rear part there is a bed, with the necessary bedding. Here you have a house with three apartments: kitchen, dining, and lodging rooms. A man with two good horses will take this house to some secluded place suitable for sheep to graze and there stop. [Behind him] follow from one to five thousand sheep. During the day, sheep roam at large, grazing, and at night they are all gathered around this wagon, or ranch. Corn is fed to them, which keeps them well content. They understand that outside there is danger; four dogs do guard duty every day and night. This grazing belongs to Uncle Sam; he has thousands of them. The best part of this ranch is the house; it is on wheels and it can be taken where you please, one, five, or twenty miles. “