IN ECHO CANYON

It was a lovely day in the last of September, a few days after the occurrences related in our last chapter. The air was cool, crisp, and full of the odor of pine and sagebrush. In a mountain retreat, around a gleaming fire, sat a group of men with serious, eager faces, and their talk was carried on in guarded tones.

The country was wild and barren, except that here and there along the course of a stream the willows and brush gave a little protection to man and beast. On a low hill-side to the right of the camp-fire, were tethered horses, picking a scant supper from the fall-dried plain. Not very far away yawned a huge black opening in the side of the mountain, which gave the name of Cache Cave to the spot.

The leader of the party, General Daniel H. Wells, sat in the center of the council, his fine large head and prominent features giving him a massive appearance well calculated to inspire respect and confidence. He was listening to some recital of a recent expedition from the lips of a tall, red-bearded, slow-spoken man.

"What did General Harney say when Captain Van Arden had explained to him the condition in our Territory?" asked the General.

"The General replied with an oath, 'I am ordered to Salt Lake City, and I will winter there or in hell.'"

The men around the camp-fire uttered various exclamations of determination that the violent general should be well supplied with opportunities to join his friends in the latter warm retreat.

On the right of General Wells sat an immense, broad-shouldered fellow, bearded and with eyes like an eagle. He said little, and kept his face in his hands while listening to the report of his fellow-soldier, Stevens.

"Major Smith," remarked General Wells, turning to this silent, keen-eyed giant-like officer, "you will at once proceed to the enemy's camp, and deliver these documents which have been entrusted to my care by Governor Young. Wait for a reply, see all you can, hear all you can, and make yourself, if possible, more familiar with the country surrounding us than you are at the present. There is much for you to do in the near future, if we would prevent this army from entering the Valley this winter. Do you wish any one to accompany you?"

"No, sir, I am foot-loose, and when alone, can ride as fast as I please."

Accordingly, that night, while the others were fitfully sleeping, Major Lot Smith proceeded silently out of the camp to go on his mission to the United States army, now pressing forward to Fort Winfield. Not a detail of the lonely road, not a bush nor rock; not the slightest undulation in the silent hills escaped the keen eyes of this traveler.

Arrived at the army's headquarters, Major Lot Smith was conducted to the United States General's tent, where he was received with great dignity. His papers delivered, he waited in stern silence, the reply of a tall, heavy-set, dark-complexioned man, whose prolonged silence gave him an opportunity to observe underneath the apparent coldness, a shade of anxiety and care on the officer's face, which the eagle eyes under the heavy red brows read as plainly as he did the rock-strewn roadway along which he had traveled.

"Major-General Harney has been ordered back to Kansas," remarked Col. Alexander, after reading the despatches, "and Colonel Johnston, who succeeds him, will be here in a few days. Meanwhile, I will myself undertake to reply to these remarkable documents, and shall send the answer by you, if you can wait for a few hours."

"I am here under orders to await the answers to these papers, sir," answered Smith.

"Very well, my men will attend to your needs, and while you are eating dinner, your horse shall receive attention."

Lot Smith made no reply, but bowed himself out of the presence of the officer. Instead of accepting any hospitality for himself, he eagerly, yet quietly, spent the few hours of his stay, in mastering every detail of the camp, and fixing upon his mind every word he chanced to overhear from the soldiers.

He soon ascertained that the present commanding officer was Colonel Alexander, and that the colonel was in some anxiety as to what move to make next. Smith discovered this from the remarks of a young, dark-mustached officer, who sat chatting with his companion outside of a tent door, utterly oblivious that "Mormon" ears were taking note of his extravagances.

"I have told the Colonel repeatedly," announced this young braggart, "that the only honorable and manly course to pursue, is to follow the plan laid out by Harney. Harney is a trump, by—, and I wish we had him here again instead of this wavering, chicken-hearted present administration. All we have to do is to secure most of our troops and supplies in Fort Winfield; then a few hundred of us with our knap-sacks on our back could make the valley in a few days, surprise the fanatics and poltroons down there, take possession of old Brigham's harem for our own comfort and pleasure, quarter our men in their church, and the thing is done."

"Old Brigham himself might have something to say about that," remarked one of the loungers at the tent door. "Van Arden says he is a fighter of no mean ability."

"Bah! Van Arden is easily frightened. The very first thing to be done is, of course, to string up such rabble as Young, Kimball and Wells, with others of their ilk, to the nearest tree. I have no patience with men who play into the hands of heathens and tricksters. What were we sent out here for, anyway?"

The young man looked around the circle with a sneer upon his handsome mouth, and as he met the eyes of one or another, they gave him varying replies either by word or by glance.

"I don't think any one knows just exactly what we were sent out here for," at last answered the tall, gray-eyed man who had spoken before. "I don't know that Harney, Alexander or even Buchanan himself knows exactly what we were sent here for. Presumably to install Cumming in the office to which the President has appointed him."

"And do you think that it will take the flower of the American army, and millions of dollars to do so simple a thing as that? Come, now, Saxey, you are not so innocent as that. We have a whole Territory to subdue and the seditious priests of this most villainous community are to be tried and hanged, or hanged anyway. That's what I came out here for."

"Well, I am prepared to follow my orders, no matter what they may be; but I have no desire to take part in street fights, or brawls such as was witnessed in Illinois ten years ago, when the leaders of this people were killed by the border ruffians of that State. I know something of this people from my brief association with a part of the "Mormon" Battalion, which answered our government's call for troops to march into Lower California. I never saw a braver or more devoted body of men. And I will not be a party to another outrage upon an innocent people." So spake Col. Saxey, gentleman, soldier and man.

"You and I do not indulge in street fights or brawls," replied the braggart, "but we are determined to see order and decency maintained in this government, no matter if it be at the cost of a few lives of such lecherous scoundrels as old Brigham and his priests. Why, their doings are a blotch on the escutcheon of our proud country. It is an introduction into our midst of the rotten lives and practices of the Turks and Orientals. The manhood of this nation will not endure it."

"Let us see, Sherwood," interposed the grey-eyed man, withdrawing his cigar to give emphasis to his words, "how many of Brigham's daughters or concubines have you decided shall form part of your establishment this winter?"

"Oh, plague on your Quixotism; you make no distinction between the amours of a gentleman and the vile practices of the heathens and 'Mormons.'"

The silent listener at the other side of the tent found it impossible to keep his teeth from grinding together at this moment, but he was suddenly approached by a subaltern who requested him to wait at once upon the commanding officer for his messages to Utah.

Obtaining the despatches, Major Smith started upon the return journey. It was high noon in the camp of the mountaineers, when dusty, travel-stained Lot Smith rode into the small circle. He was ushered into the tent occupied by General Wells and staff and there delivered his messages. For the first time since leaving his own camp, the Major sat down and proceeded to satisfy a soldier's appetite, and although weary and worn for sleep, he was glad to satisfy his cravings for food before resting or sleeping.

The general saw the worn condition of his faithful officer, and ordered him to his own tent until the next morning. Meanwhile a courier was sent to the valley with the despatches from the army, and a full report from General Wells and his scouts.

All that night General Wells and his staff talked, planned, and counseled. It was but little after seven o'clock when the council assembled the next morning to hear the verbal report of Major Smith and to decide upon future action.

"I overheard much of their vaunting, blasphemous determination to enter the Valley, kill or imprison our leaders, and to capture and ruin our wives and daughters. There are a few cautious, sensible men among them, such as Col. Saxey, whom you all know by reputation at least, but the majority, especially the officers, who are mostly young men of hot passions and romantic temperament, are determined to force Colonel Alexander to proceed at once to the Valley with a light detachment, to be followed by the masses of the troops, as fast as is convenient."

"Colonel Alexander informs me in his letter," said General Wells, "that he will submit our letters and despatches to General Johnston immediately upon that officer's arrival in camp; and, that meanwhile the troops are there by order of the President of the United States, and their future movements will depend upon the orders issued by competent military authority."

"What shall we do under these circumstances?" asked one of the officers.

"This is the plan adopted in our council before leaving Salt Lake City, and there sanctioned by President Young. We were to ascertain the location of the troops as soon as possible, which has now been done by Major Smith. Then we were to proceed at once to annoy them in every way possible. We are to use every exertion to stampede their animals, and are to set fire to their supply trains whenever practicable. Burn the whole country before them, and on their flanks. Keep them from sleeping by night surprises, blockade the roads by felling trees or destroying the river fords wherever we can. Watch for opportunities to set fire to the grass on their windward, so as to set fire to their trains. Leave no grass behind them that can be burned. We are to keep our men concealed as much as possible, and of course we are to guard ourselves against surprises continually."

"What if we meet a detachment and are compelled to fight," asked one of the men.

"I anticipate no such catastrophe," answered General Wells. "Brother Brigham has said that the Lord will fight our battles for us, and if we follow his counsel to the letter, we shall also be able to comply with his strictest injunctions, which are, to spare life always when possible, and not to shed a drop of blood when it can be avoided. 'Say your prayers and keep your powder dry,' was his parting admonition."

The General sat some time as if in silent meditation, and the officers present remained silent, unwilling to disturb his reflections.

At length the chief raised his head, and looking straight into the eyes of Major Smith, he asked:

"Major, do you think that you can take our small force, about forty men we have here now, and passing in the rear of the enemy, turn back and burn the supply trains on the road?"

The Major returned the intent gaze of the General, and while a dusky gleam shot through the red-brown depths of his own eyes, he only replied in words:

"Yes, sir; I think I can."

"Very well, sir, you can consider yourself under orders to carry out the plan I have just now indicated. The council is adjourned."

That these men could, at the close of their portentious council, kneel down and ask God to bless them and assist them in their undertaking, may seem strange, but they were banded together to protect the lives of their fellow-men shut up in the narrow valleys of the lower country, and they felt that if God did not interpose His power, the soldiers, accompanied as they were by a horde of blasphemous, reckless, licentious camp-followers and brawlers, would not only kill and plunder, but they would also decoy and destroy their fair wives and daughters.

They were facing no imaginary terrors, for the pangs of Illinois and Missouri were not yet blotted from the memory of even their babes. No blood would be shed, except in self-defense, but every man there was prepared to pour his life-current out like water upon the ground, if necessary, to protect their beloved homes and families and their honored leaders. God was their father and to Him they appealed.

"Say your prayers and keep your powder dry," had been the counsel of President Young, and they were united as one man to carry out his instructions.

One of the first men spoken to by Lot Smith was quiet John Stevens, a man after Smith's own heart. No need of much talk between these two, as they divined each other's wishes and purposes without need for words and explanations.

There was some delay, consequent upon breaking up camp, so that it was early twilight when the small detachment rode out upon the open prairie. The Major called John Stevens to his side, and to him in a few words related as they rode along some of the conversation overheard in the camp of the enemy.

As John listened to the wicked threats of the dissolute officers concerning the fair daughters of his people, he was seized with a sudden, passionate anger, and for a few moments he could think of nothing but to heap curses upon their wicked heads, and he longed with murderous longing, to have one of them just now under his own clenched hands that he might strangle the pride and the devil out of him.

His curses were not uttered aloud, however, and when he recovered himself, he heard his commanding officer ask:

"What's the matter, Stevens, are you annoyed?"

"Perhaps! I was not old enough to do any good in Illinois; but now—well, I am glad, major, that you permitted me to accompany you on this trip."

"Stevens, we are of the same stripe; but we must both remember our orders, and no matter what the provocation may be, we must shed no blood, unless compelled to do so. We both understand this, and yet, it is as hard for me as it is for you, my friend."

The next morning, just before sunrise, Major Smith called John's attention to a speck on the eastern horizon.

"Let us go forward carefully, Stevens; we must be sure as to numbers and conditions of this oncoming train."

"There are only half a dozen teams as I make them out."

An hour's ride verified Stevens' keen power of sight. Riding swiftly up to the flurried teamsters, Lot Smith pre-emptorily ordered them to turn back; and turn back they did. But our mountain soldiers had other work to do, and so they rode forward for an hour.

"Major, I have a feeling that it would be well to take a look again at those teams we ordered to follow us. I can't see anything of their dust," said John, as they rode along.

The major turned on his horse and scanned the horizon behind them with shaded eyes and thoughtful mind.

"Stevens, take fifteen or twenty of the boys and go back there, and see if our orders have been obeyed. Meanwhile I will ride forward slowly."

Three hours after this, Stevens returned and reported that he had found the train once more headed westward; whereupon he had unloaded the freight, and set fire to the whole lot. The teamsters were preparing to come eastward again on their animals.

"Good, now let us ride eastward as fast as we can."

Turning in the direction of the Green River bluffs, the men rode into a small clump of willows by the stream, and decided to get some sleep before proceeding further. It was sorely needed, and proved refreshing to the band of weary men.

The next morning before daybreak they were in the saddle; and before riding an hour, the major discovered a cloud of dust coming from the old "Mormon" trail.

Riding fiercely into camp, Lot Smith demanded to see the captain.

"Captain Simpson is out huntin' cattle; and I guess if you want him you will have to hunt him," replied one of the teamsters.

"I'll look after your captain," bluntly announced Lot, and then cocking his own gun as a signal to his men to follow suit, he quietly added, "but you fellows can just fork over your shooting irons; we are wanting some implements of that kind just now."

There was a flash in the red-brown eyes of Lot Smith, and every teamster carefully gathered up his pistol or gun and delivered it over to Stevens, who distributed them among the men.

Leaving Stevens in charge of the camp, Lot Smith rode out to meet the captain, whose name was Simpson. He was driving in some animals, and Lot simply said: "Captain, I am here on urgent business."

The man addressed was no coward, and his eyes flashed as he demanded the nature of that business.

"Just hand over your pistols, and I will let you know the nature of it," answered Smith.

Spurring his horse towards the train, Simpson replied: "No man ever took my pistols yet; and if you think you can without first killing me, try it."

They were all the time riding full gallop towards the train.

"I admire a brave man, captain, but I don't like blood. You insist on me killing you, which would only take a minute, but I don't want to do it. If you will take the trouble to look that way, captain, instead of glaring into my eyes, you will see that your teamsters are in a ticklish situation."

They had ridden as close together as their panting, reeking horses would allow, each looking fire and death into the blazing eyes of the other; but when Simpson raised his eyes and saw his own teamsters huddled together, unarmed and shivering, under the cocked guns of the mountaineers, he turned to Smith and muttered: "You have me at a bitter disadvantage."

"We don't need that advantage, captain. What would you do if I should give up your arms?"

"I'll fight you," answered the captain, between his teeth.

The two had now reached the camp.

"Well, we know something about that, too, Take up your arms."

The teamsters shrank back as one man.

"Not by a d—d sight," one of them exclaimed. "We came out here to whack bulls, and not to fight."

"What do you say to that, captain?" asked Smith.

With another violent oath, the captain ground his teeth and replied: "If I had been here before, and they had refused to fight, I would have killed every man of them."

Major Smith was too brave a man not to be touched by this manly, yet reckless spirit; and after some parley with Stevens, he ordered his men to give Simpson two of the loaded guns, with two of the loaded wagons, to keep his men from starvation until their return to the Eastern States, and then ordering all out of the way, he called out for a big burly Irishman, a non-"Mormon," who had followed Stevens from the trains the day before, and had offered to join their forces: "Here, Dawson, you can put the torch to these trains; it is very proper for the Gentiles to spoil the Gentiles."

The whole train of fifty-two wagons was burned; after which the mountaineers rode away, telling the teamsters that they could take what provisions they had secured for themselves to their comrades, a few miles away, and then return; and if any attempt were made to extinguish the flames, summary punishment would be administered to the offenders.