CHAPTER III

MEXICO FROM THE RIO GRANDE TO THE MOUNTAINS

_April 28th, 1849._ The company started today, and I expect to follow early tomorrow, and join the men who are now fifteen miles ahead of me. I am compelled to remain to attend to the property of the ten men who have died of cholera in this accursed place; it goes to New Orleans by boat in the morning. Why Col. Webb, who had been in this country before, selected this route instead of a more northerly one, I cannot understand, but it is now too late to change, and we must go forward with courage.

_April 29th. Canales Run._ We are all on our way, having come to Ceralvo, [Cerralvo][14] beautiful for its old mission, and curious in its irrigating canals, bridges and old church, still it has the apathetic lassitude of everything Mexican. We rode on to Robber's Rancho, over undulating wastes of hard, unprofitable soil. The palmettos are here by the thousand, and their fantastic shapes gave the appearance of horsemen of gigantic size, riding through grass almost as tall.

_May 1st._ Robber's Rancho, once a fine hacienda, was burned by the Americans, in the last war, for the rascality of its owners; it is on a beautiful plain, but brush has grown up in the now neglected fields, and all is in ruins. Here we came near losing Lieut. Browning from cholera, but he was saved by Dr. Trask's indefatigable exertions.

_May 12th. Near Monterey._ We have been here four days having horses and mules shod, and I will take my pencil notes and write up my journal to date.

We were at Robber's Rancho a week, waiting for Bachman, Elmslie and Carrol, who had been left with Doubleday. As soon as they rejoined us we moved on to Papogias [Popagallos] then to Ramos where we met some French traders with a long train of mules and their "cargoes."

Ramos was followed by Marin and Aquafrio; all present a dilapidated appearance, very different from what was seen when the country was under the fine system of irrigation, and the remains of past opulence everywhere sadden the traveller.

We reached Walnut Springs, five miles from Monterey, on the 8th of May, and are taking needed rest in the shade of the Spanish walnuts, and enjoying the delightful water, which bursts out in a fountain of six to eight feet wide, and about a foot deep, clear but not cool, yet pleasant to drink. Monterey is at the base of a range of mountains, which surround it on all sides except to the north. Its entrance over bridges, many of them very picturesque, shows abundance of water, which irrigates the beautiful valley for miles beyond Molino.

Where did I hope to be at this date? Yet here we are scarcely started; one month lost in sickness and sorrow, and one in the re-organization of our company. We are full two months behind our reckoning, and on a route of which I never approved, but which, when I took command, we were already compelled to pursue. We are having the horses and mules shod, for their feet are so tender we can not continue without. We travel, usually twenty or twenty-five miles a day, as the chance for water and forage for our horses occurs. The uncertainty of provisions is such that we have to carry corn for one or two feeds ahead, which adds considerably to the weight of our packs, and gives us a good deal of trouble.

As I sit here, I hear the notes of many new birds, as well as those well known, and the sky overhead is bluer than any Italy ever presented to me. Monterey, where I have been several times, is an improvement on the other Mexican towns we visited, but full of foreigners of all nations come to prey on the ignorance of the poor inhabitants. All now seems well regulated, but I dread shortness of provisions and we have to be very careful. I have not heard from home since the date of February 19th and now must wait, I fear, until we reach, if we ever do reach, the Pacific coast.

The company are all tired, the work is new and it takes time to become accustomed to the broken night's rest. At midnight I take the rounds of our camp in moonlight, starlight or darkness, to see that all is well, and that none relax in vigilance, so requisite to safety in this country of thieves. This gives me only six hours of sleep, for after we have had supper, it is eight o'clock, and we get up at four a. m., so that taking out the two hours nightly, reduces me to that amount, but "habit is second nature." If you hear of any more men coming to California overland, tell them three shirts, six pairs of socks, one coat, one great coat, two pairs of trousers and two pairs of boots, should be all the personal luggage. No man should bring more than he can carry.

I have had quite a scene with the Alcalde here. Our camp was infested with pigs, which came from every direction every morning and evening when we fed our horses and mules. Of course, we could not see them robbed, stones and hatchets were abundant, and some pistols went off, which the boys declared did so accidentally. We could not find the owners, so I went to [the] Alcalde to pay for them, taking an Italian boy as interpreter. The boy instead of saying what I told him, which was simply to ask the value and pay it, added on his own account, that if his Honor was not satisfied with what we gave, we would come in and take the town. Naturally the Alcalde resented this, and I found my little vagabond had been telling his own story, not mine. Upon matters being explained by a more trustworthy source, the Alcalde was perfectly content, and bowed me out with much courtesy.

The adroitness of the Mexicans in thieving equals that of the rascals at Naples. In two instances pistols have been taken from the holsters whilst the owners held the bridles of their horses. All this has tended to excite revenge, and without good discipline outbreaks of temper might have occurred, which would undoubtedly have brought us into trouble, as happened with several other companies on the road to Mazatlan.

_Saltillo, May 20th._ Here we are, thank God, fairly on our way, and at present in good health and spirits. We travel about twenty-five miles a day, but have great difficulty in keeping our horses and mules in good order, as there is no grass for grazing purposes, and corn varying in quality, but always high in price, from one dollar to fifty cents per bushel.

When we left Monterey we followed the road to Rinconada, which is a beautifully located rancho, well watered and with a long avenue of pollard poplars or cotton-woods; the boles not more than ten or fifteen feet high, so that the flawy gusts that are like little hurricanes for a few seconds, and which come from the mountains which surround the place in every direction, cannot blow them down. Here we saw the first magua plants, from the juice of which pulke [pulque] is made, and afterwards muscale [mescal] distilled. Muscale in taste is more like creosote and water, slightly sweetened, than anything I can compare it to, and I suppose it is about as wholesome.

The peons who do the work of the hacienda are completely Indian in character, appearance and habits, sometimes marvelous in their strength and activity, and sometimes surprising us with their unsurpassed laziness. The women, patient things, like all squaws, carry wood, water, and do all the household labor.

From this beautiful little amphitheatre among the hills we wound along parched arroyos and valleys, and I could not but be struck with the wise provision of nature for the protection of its creations. Almost all the trees have tap roots, or if fibrous, they run so deep in search of moisture, that they are often longer than the tree is high. In the arroyos where the earth was often washed from the roots, I had a good opportunity of confirming my conclusions. We proceeded up a deep ravine, until we began the ascent of the famed pass of Rinconada, intended to be defended by Santa Anna, but abandoned when our troops approached. How any force of artillery could have deserted such a position I can not conceive, for the unfinished fort commands the road for two miles at least.

The view from the Fort was most superb, but we were tired of mountains, and longed for shade and woods. Crossing this pass we had our first indication of increasing altitude, and above us on the rocks were pines and cedars. They had the showers we longed for and saw passing, while almost smothered in dust, our hair and whiskers white with it, and we looked like a troop of grey veterans.

We approached Saltillo over a broad plain, dotted with ranchos for some miles before we reached the town, which we entered through lanes of adobe walls, and finally came to the principal street, and commenced the ascent of the hill on which the town proper stands. It is all Mexican in its character, one story houses, flat roofed and having a fortified look, as if no one trusted his neighbor. The public square is a fine one, and the cathedral front the most beautiful I have seen on this side of the Atlantic. The workmen who did the carving came from Spain, and the stone from the Rocky Mountains, so goes the story. Saltillo has many good points, it is clean, well regulated, and [has] better buildings than any I have seen except at Monterey, yet we pushed on, and have made our camp at Buena Vista, six miles further on. High mountains bound our view on every side. Buena Vista had its battle, and few of us but have some friend or acquaintance sleeping there.

_Parras, May 28th._ I shall never forget the Buena Vista Camp, the night of the 23d and 24th, it was the night previous to our departure for this place; the guard was slow in coming out, Montrose Graham was guard over my tent that watch, and as Simson called his guard to order, and faced me, where I had risen up to see who were changing, George Weed let his rifle fall. The cock was down on the nipple, contrary to a positive order; in falling, the head of the hammer struck the ground first, and, as if the trigger had been pulled, it went off. An exclamation came from either side, one "Mr. Audubon's killed," the other from me: "Who's hurt?" A groan from poor Graham was the answer. We were all hurry for lights and water, and the Doctor. All loved Graham, he was the handsome man of the original party of ninety-eight, just twenty-two, and the Captain of his tent, "The Hailstorm Mess," so called by Lieut. Browning, from its go-ahead principles.

The ball had passed through his ancle, and both Drs. Perry and Trask said he could not go on for some weeks. So it was decided to leave his cousin, Molinear, with him, a more practical physician than most of his age, and as much money as we could spare, that they could follow us or return home, as seemed most judicious.

Frank Carrol, as good a man as I ever wish on such an expedition, found accommodations for Graham, and remained with him at Saltillo. How we parted from them only those can know who have been compelled to leave friends in a strange land.

For several days our road continued over long hills, and parched valleys, and on the last day of this travel we had a most extraordinary view. We had climbed a hill, not more than three hundred feet high, but very steep, and reached a broad plain five or six miles wide, but much longer. On every side was a chain of sterile volcanic mountains; it was, for one view, most wonderful; it looked as if an immense lake, that threatened to cover the mountains, had suddenly been changed to earth. Crossing this plain and rounding one of the desolate peaks, we came to the hacienda of Don Emanuel Hivarez, who has five hundred peons at work. The water used for irrigation, without which nothing could be grown, is brought in an adobe aqueduct for several miles. It is an old settlement and very dirty, abounding in fleas and vermin of all descriptions. Yet when one comes to a hacienda with water all round, brought from some mountain stream, the contrast between the desolate land we have travelled and the exuberant luxuriance of vines, figs and magua gives a beauty which almost makes me, with my hatred of everything Mexican, admire our surroundings. Mocking-birds are all around us, and could I linger to explore, I have no doubt I could have added many new birds to my list, but with cholera hanging round, breaking out, in a mild form it is true, at every place we stop at, we must push on.

We daily pass cacti of three species, as well as miles of aloes, yet not enough nourishment to feed a horse in the whole of them, and through this country we start tomorrow for Chihuahua. We have one hundred and fifty-seven mules and horses and fifty-seven men, and are in good spirits. We hear Chihuahua is our best route, but we may have different information at Parral and go through Sonora.

_May 29th._ Parras is like all Mexican towns I have seen, a few French and Americans, some with a Mexican wife, others with a housekeeper; but all indolent, keeping little stores and warehouses and making immense profits. It is celebrated for wines and brandy, made principally by foreigners.

_May 30th._ At three o'clock this morning I was taken with sharp pains, nausea and other symptoms of cholera, and for the first time was obliged to ride in the ambulance, but towards evening was able to be up again, though very much debilitated.

_June 2d._ We left Parras at five this morning, and at dusk reached El Paso [El Pozo], and camped on a gravelly hill. For miles a barren desert lined both sides of our road, until we came to a swamp tract, with extraordinary luxuriance of rank weeds, no grass, and passing this entered a dismal thicket of chaparral.

_June 3d, Sunday._ We left El Paso at eight this morning, and rode until ten, when we reached a deserted rancho, and with some trouble encamped near a river bed with waterholes along it. A beautiful lagoon with water holes a hundred yards long enabled us all to take refreshing baths, and I watched with pleasure the languid flight of the great blue heron, changing his position as he was approached. Two Mexicans, hunting cattle, came to us here, and Lieut. Browning bought a wild mule, for which he gave a few dollars and a broken down mule.

_June 2d._ [?] Again we have been through swamp-like country, crossed the dry bed of a river, with white sand glaring painfully in our faces, and found acres of wild sunflowers, and patches of what looked like horehound, then we came to a cottonwood bottom, gradually changing to a golden willow, which grew so luxuriantly on both sides of the road that I was reminded of the rich bottom lands of Ohio.

At noon we came to Alamito, a large rancho, or small village of scoundrels. In bargaining for water, which is only to be had from wells, we found the men who had it for sale were making their own terms with our rascally guide, and Simson stepped up and began talking to them. They pretended they could not understand, but on my tapping my revolver they instantly became most intelligent.

Here we had the first attempt at a "stampede" made upon us. Those intending to run off the "cabalgada"[15] of a travelling party, take a strong horse, cover him with the skin of an ox which has been newly killed, putting the fleshy side out, tie all the bells they have to the horse, and fastening an enormous bunch of dry brush to his tail, set fire to it, and start him off with yells and shouts through the camp of those to be stampeded. Horses and mules, keen of scent and hearing, receive warnings of danger through both faculties, and are so frightened they will break any ordinary fastening. No matter which way they go, the vagabonds are such beautiful riders they soon turn the herd to any course they like, and make their escape, for those robbed have nothing to follow on; for, even if a few animals are left, the speed of the thieves can never be equalled. In this instance our vigilant guard saved us; what would have become of us if they had not, I dare not think.

_June 7th, Mapimi._ After a ride of twenty leagues we reached this place last night just before twelve, and lay down without food for either ourselves or our horses, and the poor animals had only had water once that day. The journey had been well enough. From time to time we enjoyed a pleasant shade through a larger growth of musquits than common, and again the country was bare of all vegetation. Tired though we were, our sleep was poor, for we were in a sort of barnyard full of hogs, and surrounded by thieving Mexicans.

This is a mining town and has several smelting furnaces where charcoal is used. Lead, and about an ounce of silver to every hundred pounds of ore, is produced, so the silver pays for the smelting, and in some of the mines copper is found. The furnaces externally are picturesque, not high, but with eccentric peaks, mitre-shaped, and harmonizing well with the rugged mountains which surround this dirty little town, where idleness and dirt, dogs and fleas abound.

_June 9th._ We rested a day at Mapimi, and reached La Cadena this evening, having come nine leagues; we shall stay here tomorrow to have the tires of our wagon set and to rest. This rancho has a fortified appearance, and mounts one small cannon, it looks able to resist a heavy attack from the Indians.

The road to this place is almost level for twenty miles, when, entering a gorge with abundant grass, it winds up a gradual ascent for two or three miles, and to the west we had a grand view, in the middle of which stood the hacienda. A long front of white wall, a tower at each end, with the usual archway in the center, over which was mounted a small brass piece, made the whole show of the establishment; and though formidable to the Apaches, who are about here in numbers, to us was only picturesque. Today we lost two of our best horses with cholera; the poor beasts suffering so much in the manner that men do, that it was painful to have our own troubles brought back so forcibly to our minds.

_June 10th._ We left for Pantilla at eight last night; it was eleven leagues distant; and being a deserted rancho no food could be had there, so we intended watering at the place, taking a short rest, then going seven leagues farther to La Zarca. Two hours after we started the moon rose behind us, and truly we presented a most picturesque appearance. Some in coats, some in blankets Mexican fashion, others in shooting jackets; we grew very tired and longed for sleep, but it was not to be taken except on horseback. Morning came and we stopped for an hour to graze our horses and mules, and rode past the deserted rancho without stopping to water, and came on to La Zarca, having had our poor animals under the saddle for twenty hours, during which we made sixty-four miles, ourselves only having to eat what we had expected for one meal. As we came up the mountains that overlooked this plain, we saw the first antelopes, and I was at one time within two hundred yards of three, but I did not shoot, and was never so near again. Many black-tailed hare have been seen and shot, and their variety of pelage would make twenty species.

_June 12th._ Today, Sunday, we are resting men and animals, and tranquillity is all about us. These long journeys are very injurious to our horses; one such long trip leaves them much more jaded and impoverished than two shorter ones, even though, as now, we always take a day's rest.

La Zarca is beautiful to look at, the centre of attraction being a fine clump of cotton-woods, letting the white walls of the hacienda shine through them. We bought a beef, killed it, and our meal was speedily cooked and eaten. Looking day after day on the same desolate scene, rendered so only by the want of rain, rarely camped in shade, this journey becomes wearisome beyond belief.

The broad plain on which this rancho is situated once grazed six thousand head of horse, all owned by one person, but when the Spanish government was given up for no government, which is the case now, Indians and Mexicans supplied themselves with stolen horses in abundance.

_June 13th._ From La Zarca to Cerro Gordo the country is flat and uninteresting, barren in most places of all but musquit bushes. Every mile or so for the first few leagues we crossed a beautiful little brook, which was, however, gradually absorbed by the thirsty sand, a water hole and bed of sand appearing alternately, until the water wholly disappeared. We made two days' journey of it, going the first day eighteen miles, where we found good grazing on partially dry grass, better for horses and mules than corn alone, which half the time has been all we could get for them. Our most serious trouble now is the sore backs of our mules produced by the pack saddles, which were made in our own country, and are too broad for the backs of the Mexican mules. Cerro Gordo is a miserable den of vagabonds, with nothing to support it but its petty garrison of a hundred and fifty cavalry mounted on mules. We were hooted and shouted at as we passed through, and called "Gringoes," etc., but that did not prevent us from enjoying their delicious spring water; it was cool and delightful. Our men rushed to it, and drank two pint cups full each, hardly breathing between times; it was the first good water we had had since leaving the Mississippi.

Here we were visited by a member of a Mexican travelling circus, who asked our protection as far as El Valle, which we promised them. The party consisted of five, one woman and four men. The lady rode as we used to say in Louisiana "leg of a side," on a small pacing pony; the two horses of the ring carried only their saddles, two pack mules, four small trunks, and four jaded horses the rest of the plunder. The four men went one on foot, driving the packs and continually refitting and repacking, the other three riding. One man had two Chihuahua dogs about six inches long, stuffed in his shirt bosom, another a size larger on the pommel of his saddle. A second man was in grand Spanish costume, on a small but blooded grey horse, with a large dragoon sword on his left, and a Mexican musket made about 1700, which would have added to an antiquary's armory. They told us they had everything they owned with them, so that if alone, and attacked by the Apaches, whom we hear of continually but never see, their loss would be a very serious one to them.

_June 14th._ We left Cerro Gordo at eight a. m. and ascended steadily up hill for about two miles, the country poor and uninteresting, and the miles seem to stretch out interminably. We are now camped at El Noria.

_June 15th._ Rio Florida. We are repaid for our tiresome journey by the shade and refreshment we find here; the old mission is the most commodious we have seen, built of nearly white marble, the four pillars next the church richly carved and almost perfect. When the old priests had this broad valley tilled and irrigated by the convert Indians it must indeed have been a scene of luxurious growth, and they, no doubt, lived in great comfort, if isolation. Still the place is inland, and indolence there as everywhere in Mexico reigns supreme. So fell Rio Florida.

_June 17th._ From Rio Florida to El Valle, ten leagues, our road in places has been most beautiful; undulating plains like those of Texas, and we saw the first streaks of iron mixed with the limestone which for weeks we have been traveling through. We shall be glad of any change, for our lips are cracked, and so sore as to give pain and discomfort all the time, while our hands are cracked and split as in mid-winter.

Here at El Valle, sometimes called Bia Valle, we are encamped in a grove of cotton-wood, which, I should say, had been planted forty or fifty years ago, and the gardens when irrigated must have been most luxuriant. We are now in an iron district, and the walls of the Jacals have changed from white to red. The hillsides, too, have changed in color; some are reddish and bare, others grey, from dead grass and lime underneath.

Bia or El Valle is situated on another of those beautiful creeks that from time to time occur in this part of Mexico; it contains a motley crowd, doubtful of face and of character; largely half-breeds, and speaking Spanish, so murdered into patois, that Lieut. Browning, a fluent Spanish scholar, was some time learning to understand their language. Our circus party left us here; the woman who was really the queen of the show came to thank us for our protection, which she did most gracefully, and gave us a courteous invitation to her show and fandango, the termination to every Mexican entertainment, wedding, christening, and even battle. I could not go, but several of the party did, and pronounced the senoritas quite good looking.

_June 18th, Parral._[16] Half way between El Valle and Parral, at a rancho on one of the bends of the Rio Florida, is a most splendid specimen of meteoric iron, almost pure in quality. It is, at its highest point, four feet above the ground, and from two to five feet one way, by two to three the other, very irregular. Where it is worn by the passers by rubbing their hands it is bright, and looks like a lump of pure ore.

A long, steep zigzag descent, rocky beyond belief, and painful to our poor mules, many of which had lost shoes, brought us into Parral, which is wild and picturesque in situation as well as in buildings, but yet desolate.

The balconies, so to speak, built in front of the silver mines, high on the sides of the mountains which entirely surround the town, give it a fortified appearance, and convey the idea of a respectability which we have not seen since we left Saltillo. We skirted the town, and are encamped on the banks of the river or creek that runs through the centre; our tents were soon in place and guard set, for we were immediately surrounded by at least a hundred idlers. While talking to some Americans, Lieut. Browning had his pistol stolen from his holster, while standing within three feet of his mule. This makes the fifth lost in this way. He drew his revolver and ordered the crowd off, and in an instant the ground was clear, and the fear that characterizes these miserable creatures was shown as they hurried off, holding their hats to shield the back of their heads.

We are, comparatively speaking, camped in a paradise, for we have pollarded cotton-woods to give us shade, a dashing little brook, and an aviary of birds to enliven or calm, to cheer and encourage us, and are in real enjoyment of rest from fatigue and pain, all but my thigh, which is very painful from the presence of a large boil.

_June 20th. Parral._ So far our prospects ahead are good, and we have determined not to take the Chihuahua route, but the mountain one from this to Jesus Maria, and so on, as we are informed from the best authorities that we can go that way without suffering from want of water or food, and arrive at the mouth of the Gila, not three hundred miles upstream. We are told of both routes by those who have personally travelled them, and learn that by taking to the mountains we shall be in pine forests, and that deer and bear are frequently found, so that we shall be able to have some variety from the monotonous fare of no meat or only tough beef, which we have had for three months.

All would have been well had we not encountered cholera, and lost that never-to-be-caught-up-with time at Davis's rancho; and no party would have beaten us over. We have passed the Comanche country, and now have to be on our guard against the Apaches. No one knows how constantly I miss my dear friend Dr. Kearney in times like these, especially when a deviation from our contemplated route is in question.

The country we have passed through is desolate in the extreme, parched, arid, barren, except where irrigated.

Parral is a mining town where silver is found, but there is no proper machinery for satisfactory work. There are about seven thousand inhabitants of the usual mixed variety.

_June 27th, 1849._ Here at Parral we have found some Americans, and, as ever, friends among them; Mr. Hicks and Mr. Miller in particular; but here unfortunately Hinckley, Liscomb and Teller were taken ill, and our departure was delayed. Teller was very ill from the first with a sort of cholera. We took him into the town for better accommodation and rest, but he sank rapidly; we were unable to save him, and could only alleviate his sufferings. His cousin and myself watched over him with heavy hearts, and depression again settled heavily on our camp.