The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-07-03
RODE THE PONY EXPRESS
SOME EXPERIENCES OF WILLIAM
JAMES, NOW AN ARMY PACKER.
Western Pioneer Tells of a Hair
Route in Nevada During "a Raid.
St. Louis Globe-pemocrat.

Yesterday was an idle day at Jefferson
Barracks, and the Sunday quietude was
broken only by the melodies of Vollrath's
Band, at the pavilion. The crowd was ex-
ceedingly small. Only one hundred soldiers
are now at the barracks, and they are re-
cruits to fill the gaps in the present regi-
ment of regulars. Three hundred men left
Saturday night for Tampa. With the SOL
diers gone the barracks lost its attraction,
and the Sunday pleasure-seekers went to
Shaw's garden and other places yesterday.
The hills and shaded hooks, where six thou
sand men were recently encamped, were
lonely and deserted yesterday. Only piles
of half-burnt wood and empty boxes around
the cold ashes of past camp fires marked
the location Of the once beautiful white city
of tents.
Several trains of pack mules are now be-
ing educated in the requirements of army
service at the barracks, and a number of
old mining prospectors and ''freighters''
who have spent years in the mountains and
the plains of the far West have enlisted
as packers for Uncle Sans army. A num-
Der of these Western pioneers have just ar
rived from Arizona New Mexico, Utah and
California. These men have spent the
greater part of their lives away from civil
ization, delving in the ground for gold along
the Rockies all the way from the Canada
line to the Mexican border. They men
whose experience in the Wild West, in the
days when the siX-shooter was the sole
arbiter of all difficulties, would furnish
enough material for whole library Of yell
low-backed novels.
One of the men who come close from the
soil, and whose experiences are varied and
checkered, was sitting on a grassy knoll
listening to Vollrath's Band play Strauss
Merry War yesterday afternoon, when
Globe-Democrat man found him in COM
municative mood after little coaching. He
landed at the barracks a week ago last
Saturday on his fifty-fifth birthday, but he
does not look to be over forty years old.
He is of strong, rugged build, of medium
ly dark hair and muStache, with streak
of gray here and there; hands and face
made swarthy by years of outCeor exposure
"a man of nerve and cool-headed bravery.
His name is William James. Of course the
other packers call him plain Bill"
Well, BILL" James was born in Lynch
burg, Va, but when five years old he ac-
companied his parents in wagon train
that went across the plains for California in
/ trip in those days. He went through Oma-
sha, then a cluster of cabins, but now great
city celebrating the progress OF the vast
transmissssippi country by wonderful ex-
4 position. James once a pony express
rider when the United States mails were
carried on the backs of feet-footed ponies;
he has prospected for gold in the mountains
of Nevada and Utah, and made and lost
couple Of fortunes, and he has been a
freighter and managed mule trains in the
West. Mining being dull now for poor
prospector, James left his home in Salt
Lake City and joined the army service as
packer.
THRILLING EXPERIENCES.
Eyes, have had few lively experiences
H., tsvl,a hot &c
lively now, but when they occurred didn't
regard them as extraordinary" said Mr..
James, in a modest way. SIN 1861 I was
rider for the pony express and my run was
from Simpsons Park to Cole Springs, a dis
tance of sixty miles, in the Smoky valley
range of mountains in Nevada. The ponies
I rode were California mustangs, and they
We're as heet-footed as deer. Simpsons
Park was at the east end of my run, and l
made the round trip to Cole Springs and
back, 120 miles, in twelve hours. had to
make ten miles an hour, including all stops.
always changed ponies four times during
the sixty miles, and made one change at
the end, thus tVe ponies making the run one
way of sixty miles. Not much time was lost
in changing ponies When L rode up to
station pony was standing there saddled
and bridled and / simply threw the mail
bags over his back, mounted, and away
went at break-neck speed. My run crossed
two SUBMITS and two valleys in the noun
LalnS. 1t was a Q6SOldI6 country, lnndDlLGu
only by the Shoshone Indians and now and
then camp of emigrants would be seen.
II shall never forget the night of Sept.
IS, 1861. l started west from Simpsons
Park to Cole Springs on my run in the fore
noon, and reached Cole Springs all right.
Then L started back on my return trip to
Simpsons Park 1t was a clear, beautiful
night, but without a moon. After the first
change / got pony that was quite spirited,
and he carried me over the ground at
rapid rate. Just as l reached the summit
of the first mountain on my run my pony
began to shy, for his keen instinct told him
that something was wrong ahead. In the
darkness 1 could only see a big patch of
what appeared to be snow on the trail. 1
soon reached it, and was puzzled. | dis
mounted and learned that the ground for
several feet square was covered with flour.
A lone cowboy had been herding horses
this summit, but he and the stock were gone
and his provisions were scattered over the
ground. 1 gave the matter but passing
thought, mounted my pony and sped away
down into the valley. A few hours brought
me to Simpsons Park, the end of my run,
but the storehouse was burned and the
place was deserted. Then, for the first time,
1 began to realize that the Indians were at
work The rules of the pony express were
that when a rider reached the end of his
run and found no other rider there to meet
him, he had to ride ahead until he did meet
a rider. 1 found no rider at Simpsons Park,
and so rode ahead in a swift gallop.
he NEXT station foT the GGny
see that they were in order, and kept an
eye skinned for Indians. When 1 reached
Dry Creek fort there was no light, and the
place was silent / dSnnounted, and, lead
ing the pony behind me- 1 stopped over and
poked my head through a port hole, and ran
my face against a dead man. The clammy
touch almost parayzed me, and I jerked
my head back quickly, mounted my pony,
gave him the spurs, and left that place in
dead run. 1t was a midnight experience in
the wild mountains that tried my nerves,
/ tell you 1 then rode fourteen miles to
Grubbs Well Station, and found a pile of
smoldering ashes to tell of the location of
the cabin. l rode seventeen miles farther,
and found Roberts Greek Station in ashes,
and sixteen miles farther on 1 that Sui
phur Springs Station was burned / then
had fourteen miles more to travel to reach
the next station, at Diamond Springs There
the company had erected a strong fort, and
/ expected to find somebody alive there 1t
was just before daybreak when I neared
this fort. Somebody called Halt! 1 an
swered, and gave my name
Why, is that you, Bill?' exclaimed the
guard. It's a wonder you haven't been
killed and scalped by the Indians for they
are on the war-path tonight, and are burn
ing our stations
A RAID AND A RESCUE.
"At Diamond Springs found all the men
who had been able to flee from the other
stations. The Indians had simply burned
the stations and then fled to the forests. /
happened to come along later, and never
saw an Indian the whole night long. /
learned that the five men at Simnson's Pa RI