Chapter 35

THE END OF THE LONG TRAIL

I WAS glad enough to get out of the crowds of New York. It had given me some rich experiences, but that big city is no place for ox teams. It was good to get away from the jam and the hurry out on to the country roads.

On the way to Philadelphia, between Newark and Elizabeth City, New Jersey, at a point known as Lyon's Farm, the old Meeker homestead stood, built in the year 1676. Here the Meeker Tribe, as we call ourselves, came out to greet me, nearly forty strong.

On the way through Maryland we saw a good many oxen, some of them driven on the road. The funny part of it was to have the owners try to trade their scrawny teams for Dave and Dandy, offering money to boot, or two yoke for one. They had never before seen such large oxen as Dave and Dandy, and for that matter I never had myself. Dandy was of unusual size, and Dave was probably the largest trained ox in the United States then; he was sixteen hands high and eight feet in girth.

I reached Washington, the capital, just twenty-two months to the day from the time I left home in Washington, the state. As soon as arrangements could be made I went to see President Roosevelt. Senator Piles and Representative Cushman, of the Washington Congressional delegation, introduced me to the President in the cabinet room.

Mr. Roosevelt manifested a lively interest in the work of marking the trail. He did not need to be told that the trail was a battlefield, or that the Oregon pioneers who moved out and occupied the Oregon Country while it was yet in dispute between Great Britain and the United States were heroes. When I suggested that they were "the winners of the Farther West," he fairly snatched these words from my lips. He went even further than I had dreamed of or hoped for, in invoking Government aid to carry on the work. Addressing Senator Piles, the President said with emphasis: "I am in favor of this work to mark this trail. If you will bring before Congress a measure to accomplish it, I am with you and will give my support to do it thoroughly."

Mr. Roosevelt thought the suggestion of a memorial highway should first come from the states through which the trail runs. However, it would be possible to get Congressional aid to mark the trail. In any event, he felt it ought to be done speedily.

Unexpectedly the President asked, "Where is your team? I want to see it."

Upon being told that it was nearby, without ceremony, and without his hat, he was soon alongside, asking questions faster than they could be answered, not idle questions, but such as showed his intense desire to get real information, bottom facts.

President Roosevelt was a man who loved the pioneers and who understood the true West. His warm welcome remains in my heart as one of the richest rewards of the many that have come as compensation for my struggle to carry out my dream.

On the eighth of January, 1908, I left Washington, shipping my outfit over the Allegheny Mountains to McKeesport, Pennsylvania. From McKeesport I drove to Pittsburgh, and there put the team into winter quarters to remain until the fifth of March. Thence I shipped by boat on the Ohio River to Cincinnati, stopping in that city but one day, and from there I shipped by rail to St. Louis, Missouri.

My object now was to retrace the original trail from its beginnings to where it joined the Oregon Trail, over which I had traveled. This trail properly ran by water from St. Louis to Independence, thence westward along the Platte to Fort Laramie.

At Pittsburgh and adjacent cities I was received cordially and encouraged to believe that the movement to make a great national highway had taken a deep hold in the minds of the people.

I was not so much encouraged in St. Louis. The city officers were unwilling to do anything to further the movement, but before I left the city, the Automobile Club and the Daughters of the American Revolution did take formal action indorsing the work. St. Louis had really been the head and center of the movement that finally established the original Oregon Trail. It was from here that Lewis and Clark started on the famous expedition of 1804-05 that opened up the Northwest. Here was where Wyeth, Bonneville, and others of the early travelers on the trail had outfitted.

The drive from St. Louis to Jefferson City, the capital of the State of Missouri, was tedious and without result other than that of reaching the point where actual driving began in early days. Governor Folk signified his approval of the work, and I was given a cordial hearing by the citizens.

On the fourth of April I arrived at Independence, Missouri, which is generally understood to be the eastern terminus of the Santa Fé Trail. I found, however, that many of the pioneers had shipped farther up the Missouri, some driving from Atchison, some from Leavenworth, others from St. Joseph. At a little later period, multitudes had set out from Kanesville (now Council Bluffs), where Whitman and Parker made their final break with civilization and boldly turned their faces westward for the unknown land of Oregon.

The Santa Fé and Oregon trails from Independence and Kansas City were identical for forty miles or thereabouts, out to the town of Gardner, Kansas. From there the Santa Fé Trail bore on to the west and finally to the southwest, while the Oregon Trail bore steadily on to the northwest and encountered the Platte valley below Grand Island in what is now Nebraska. At the forks of the road, the historian Chittenden says, "a simple signboard was seen which carried the words 'Road to Oregon,' thus pointing the way for two thousand miles. No such signboard ever before pointed the road for so long a distance, and probably another such never will."

I determined to make an effort to find the spot where this historic sign once stood, and if possible to plant a marker there. Friends in Kansas City, one of whom I had not met for sixty years, took me by automobile to Gardner, where, after a search of a couple of hours, two old residents were found who were able to point out the spot. These men were Mr. V. R. Ellis and Mr. William J. Ott, aged respectively seventy-seven and eighty-two years, whose residence in the near vicinity dated back nearly fifty years. The point is at the intersection of Washington Street and Central Street in the town of Gardner.

I planned to drive up the Missouri and investigate the remaining five prongs of the trail--Leavenworth, Atchison, St. Joseph, Kanesville, and Independence. I drove to Topeka, the capital city of Kansas, where I arrived the eleventh of May (1908). There the trail crosses the Kansas River under the very shadow of the State House, not three blocks away; yet only a few knew of it.

On the twenty-third of May the team arrived at St. Joseph, Missouri, a point where many pioneers had outfitted in early days. While public sentiment there was in hearty accord with the work of marking the trail, yet plainly it would be a hard tug to get the people together on a plan to erect a monument. "Times were very tight to undertake such a work," came the response from so many that no organized effort was made.

The committee of Congress in charge of the bill appropriating fifty thousand dollars to mark the trail, by this time had taken action and had made a favorable report. Such a report was held to be almost equivalent to the passage of a bill. So, all things considered, the conclusion was reached to suspend operations, ship the team home, and for the time being take a rest from the work. I had been out from home twenty-eight months, lacking but five days; hence it is small wonder that I concluded to listen to the inner longings to get back to home and home life. On the twenty-sixth of May I shipped the outfit by rail from St. Joseph to Portland, Oregon, where I arrived on the sixth day of June, 1908, and went into camp on the same grounds I had used in March, 1906, on my outward trip.

As I returned home over the Oregon Short Line I crossed the old trail in many places. This time, however, it was with Dave and Dandy quietly chewing their cud in the car, while I enjoyed all the luxuries of an overland train.

I began vividly to realize the wide expanse of country covered, as we passed first one and then another of the camping places. I was led to wonder whether or not I should have undertaken the work if I could have seen the trail stretched out, as I saw it like a panorama from the car window. I sometimes think not. All of us at times undertake things that look bigger after completion than they did in our vision of them. We go into ventures without fully counting the cost. Perhaps that was the case, to a certain extent, in this venture; the work did look larger from the car window than from the camp.

Nevertheless, I have no regrets to express or exultation to proclaim. The trail has not yet been fully or properly marked. We have made a good beginning, however, and let us hope the end will soon become an accomplished fact. Monumenting the old Oregon Trail means more than the mere preservation in memory of that great highway; it means the building up of loyalty, of patriotism, as well as the teaching of our history in a form never to be forgotten.

Words can not express my deep feeling of gratitude for the royal welcome given me by the citizens of Portland. I was privileged to attend the reunion of the two thousand pioneers who had just assembled for their annual meeting.

The drive from Portland to Seattle is also one long to be remembered; my friends and neighbors met me with kindliest welcome. On the eighteenth day of July, 1908, I drove into the city of Seattle and the long journey was ended. My dream of retracing the way over the Old Trail had come true.

THE WHITE INDIAN BOY

BY E. N. WILSON

_In collaboration with Howard R. Driggs_

EVERYONE who knew "Uncle Nick" Wilson was always begging him to tell about pioneer days in the Northwest. When "Uncle Nick" was eight years old, the Wilson family crossed the plains by ox team. When he was only twelve, he slipped away from home to travel north with a band of Shoshones with whom he wandered about for two years, sharing all the experiences of Indian life. Later, after he had returned home, he was a pony express rider, he drove a stage on the Overland route, and he acted as guide in an expedition against the Gosiute Indians.

"Uncle Nick" knew pioneer life and he knew the heart of the Indian. So Mr. Driggs persuaded him to write his recollections and helped him to make his story into a book that is a true record of pioneering and of Indian life with its hardships and adventures.

_The White Indian Boy_ is an exciting, true story that has interested many boys and girls and contributed to their understanding of the early history of the West.

_Cloth. xii + 222 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.20_

WORLD BOOK COMPANY YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK 2126 PRAIRIE AVENUE, CHICAGO

THE BULLWHACKER

_ADVENTURES OF A FRONTIER FREIGHTER_

BY WILLIAM FRANCIS HOOKER

_Edited by Howard R. Driggs_

BULLWHACKING is an occupation about which most persons know little in these days, but one that demanded courage out in Wyoming territory fifty years ago. The bullwhacker drove ox teams to outlying army posts and Indian reservations far from railroads, when the pioneers were pushing our frontier west of the Missouri.

Mr. Hooker was one of these bullwhackers and his book is a true account of his adventures while driving frontier freighters. He tells one of the choice stories of America's making and in a way that makes the old West, with the Indian, the cowboy, and the outlaw, live again.

Pioneer adventures are here recounted in an entertaining way, and they are convincing because the author is one of the few surviving men who whacked bulls and he knows of what he is writing. Used as an historical reader, this book will make vivid to pupils of the upper grades an adventurous period of our history.

_Cloth. xvi + 167 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.00_

WORLD BOOK COMPANY YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK 2126 PRAIRIE AVENUE, CHICAGO

FRONTIER LAW

_A STORY OF VIGILANTE DAYS_

BY WILLIAM J. MCCONNELL

_In collaboration with Howard R. Driggs_

THE restoring of law and order on our western frontier in the sixties was the work of courageous men with firm hands. It was one of the stirring periods in the evolution of our government. Mr. McConnell, who was first a captain of a band of Vigilantes before he was senator and then governor, gives in this book his own experiences in bringing the control of territorial affairs into the hands of law-abiding citizens.

In straight-forward fashion he tells of his journey from Michigan to the coast, of mining in California, of homesteading in Oregon, of prospecting in Idaho. Most unusual and interesting is his account of the struggle against outlawry and the establishment of orderly government.

Through this life story of a real American boy rings a clear note of Americanism with love of liberty, respect for law, and a willingness to face squarely the issues of life. It is one of the very few first-hand accounts of the Vigilantes and it will bring the events of those days, with the great lessons that they teach, nearer to the young student of our history.

_Cloth. xii + 233 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.20_

WORLD BOOK COMPANY YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK 2126 PRAIRIE AVENUE, CHICAGO

DEADWOOD GOLD

_A STORY OF THE BLACK HILLS_

BY GEORGE W. STOKES

_In collaboration with Howard R. Driggs_

THE life and work of the pioneer miners who opened up the golden treasures of the Black Hills form a stirring chapter in the history of the winning of the West. The story as told in this book is a vivid one, made more valuable and interesting because Colonel Stokes writes of his own experiences. He was one of the first to reach the new gold diggings in the seventies, and he saw the whole development from the early exciting days, on during the mad rush to Deadwood, to the discovery of some of the greatest gold mines in the world.

There is in this volume much historical and geographical information. Especially does the book give a realistic picture of many aspects of the gold mining process and of the activities associated with the great gold rushes of all times. Serving as a supplementary reader in intermediate grades, this true story of American adventure will hold the interest of boys and girls.

_Cloth. xii + 163 pages. Illustrated. Price $1.00_

WORLD BOOK COMPANY YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK 2126 PRAIRIE AVENUE, CHICAGO

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Transcriber's Notes:

Page vii, "189" changed to "185."

Page 86, "eatablished" changed to "established" (established in 1851)

Page 220, "Britian" changed to "Britain" (between Great Britain and the)

Page 222, "Fe" changed to "Fé" (of the Santa Fé Trail)

Page 223, "Sante Fe" changed to "Santa Fé" (The Santa Fé and Oregon trails)

Page 223, "Fe" changed to "Fé" (Santa Fé Trail bore)