Transcript

SULPHUR SPRING STATION,
June 14th, 1867.

EDITOR DAILY TELEGRAPH,

Capt. D. P. Kimball’s train, in which I am a passenger, arrived here last night, all well. We have made slow time thus far. We left G. S. L. City, on the 13th inst., with good mule teams and excellent wagon masters, with heavy loads of grain for the Overland Stage company east. The road to Bridger in many places was almost impassable for loaded teams. The snow drifts were yet in the road and on the hill sides, and water running from the melting snow kept the road soft. The bottoms along the streams appeared to be bottomless for wagons and mules. It was everything but pleasant to see mules, wagons and men plunging and tumbling in the mud and water, a wagon swamped here and another mired down there. They frequently had to be unloaded and dug out with spade and shovel. For the first ten days we traveled from forty rods to five miles per day and worked very hard at that.

There are a great many toll bridges and ferries form the City to Green River, with a great variety of toll rates, ranging from 50 cents to $5.00 per wagon, and altogether will amount to $25 00 or $30.00 per wagon. Woe to the freighters who travel that road in high water. Our wagon-masters being pretty good engineers and well acquainted with the topography of the country, overcame several toll bridges by a flank movement and a little deep fording. Our wagons are now empty and we will make good time from this on.

We were militarily organized at Bridger and several added to the company for mutual protection. We have 37 wagons and near 100 men, pretty well armed. We have two negroes three Indians and five or ten soldiers. Two-thirds of the remainder, including about 18 missionaries, are Mormons and the balance are Gentiles, but we get along harmoniously, respecting each other’s rights as fellow citizens. The Mormons sing and attend to their prayers and have their jokes. The Gentiles curse and swear and have their jokes. The darkies sing and pat Juber. The Indians are the most quiet of the whole lot.

You are no doubt aware that the Indians have stolen the Mail Company’s stock for over 100 miles along the line here. Three days ago they were running the stock off from the stations where we were, west of this. They robbed one station of four mules about three hours before we got to it. They attacked this part of the line about a week ago. Yesterday we passed the grave of the man that was killed in Capt. Sharp’s train. There are a few soldiers at about every station along here at present, but the stock is gone. At Washkie station, where we nooned yesterday, the keeper and party were visited by the Indians about a week ago, and since that he has put his place in a better state of defence. He is evidently a man of strategy. If they come again he will give them a warm reception. He has mounted a six-pounder on the top of the house on the forward wheels of a wagon, poised to the point, ready for action. The gun consists of a log of wood, stained black. In the rear of the station he has another heavy piece of artillery mounted on the hind wheels of a wagon, trained on the hills to the rear. This gun is iron and consists of a joint of six inch stovepipe, well mounted. By the side of the gun carriage is a box marked U. S. A., in large letters, which was said to be the ammunition chest. They had the requisite amount of small arms, and after inspecting the works we pronounced the place impregnable to the attacks of the savages. I must close—the train is moving. Yours truly,

JOHN BROWN.