Index

The following excerpt was taken from the book "The Hobson Family Lineage -- Descendants of George and Elizabeth Hobson", 1994, Compiled by Jay W. Hobson from The Hobson Family Data Exchange.

A.D. Hobson was born in Yadkin County on the Yadkin River in East Bend, North Carolina in 1825. he was of English and Welsh ancestry, his forefathers coming to America with William Penn as colonists. The Hobson brothers left England with the colonists. One brother died enroute and was buried at sea. The survivors founded the southern branch of the family in America while others of the Hobson family arrived in Connecticut in the early Colonial days. Members of the family participated in the Revolutionary War. They were of Quaker origin.

A.D. HOBSON GOES WEST

In 1844, with horse, saddle, rifle and $20.00 in his pocket, father with several other young men started as emigrants thru the Cumberland Gap to Missouri. Arriving in Lone Jack, Mo., where his sister, Ruth Phillips lived. He worked as a brick mason in that locality for six years. While at Lone Jack he met the noted scout, Kit Carson and Lt. Fremont and saw them outfit and start on their historic path finding trip over the plains and Rocky Mountains to Oregon and California.

In the spring of May 25, 1850, A.D. Hobson and Stephen Hobson in the company of five other young men, including David Hobson, brother of A.D. Hobson, Robert Spainhauer, and Stephen Potter, outfitted with mule teams and light wagons to join the gold rush to California. The trip across the plains was practically uneventful. At that time, the cholera was raging throughout the east as well as among the emigrants. People died by thousands. A letter in my possession written by a Miss. Harper of Virginian 1849 to her brother who was flies in all the eastern cities and that one of their neighbors had returned from San Francisco via the Isthmus of Panama on the steamer. They had left port with 300 passengers on board. Within 48 hours, the bodies of 40 who had died from cholera, were thrown overboard. Emigrants on the plains bound for California and Oregon died by the hundreds.

Only one of my fathers company died with disease - a man by the name of Robert Spainhauer was lightly stricken with cholera and was treated by a French physician who was very successful in the treatment of the malady. This doctor went night and day from one emigrant train to another devoting his time to the care of the stricken with wonderful success. Spainhauer was convalescing from his sickness. The rest of the party put a pot of dry beans on the camp fire to cook and started out to kill a buffalo for camp meat leaving Spainhauer in camp. Being ravenously hungry the man could not wait until the beans were thoroughly cooked but ate a large amount of the half cooked pottage. In spite of all that could be done to save his life the man died in great agony. His body was wrapped in blankets, the only available equipment, and buried on the plains at a place called Big Sandy Creek.

The party journeyed on to Fort Bridger where they replenished their supplies purchases from the noted scout and trader, Jim Bridger. At the time the plains were alive with Indians. Fortunately the Hobson party had no trouble with the redskins who were invariably friendly with the party. Buffalo swarmed the plains along the Platte River by the millions. When the vast herds moved over the prairies, they could be seen as far as the eye could reach. When the herds of buffalo became frightened and started on the run, they emitted a low muttering "moo" and the rhythmic pound of hoofs sounded like distant thunder; thus, "The Thundering Herdsn. A little later the Government estimated the number of buffalo scattered over the plains at 50,000,000.

THE HOBSON PARTY AND THE MORMONS

On arrival at Salt Lake City, the Hobson party had the following experience in the Mormon town. The Mormons in 1833 settled in Jackson County, Mo. intent on establishing a Mormon Zion in the then thinly settled frontier. Friction arose at once between the Missouri settlers and the encroaching, so-called saints, who claimed to be the Lords own children, arguing that the world and all therein belonged solely to the Lord. Accordingly, the children of the Lord had first right to take without regard to Gentile rights of everything at hand which it claimed the saints proceeded at once to do.

One of the Missouri settlers, Stephen Potter, had a very fine yoke of oxen which was the apple of his eye. One morning Mr.Potter awoke to find three of the Mormon Saints in his barnyard leisurely yoking his prize oxen to his wagon. Hastily going out, rifle in hand, Mr. Potter asked the chosen ones what their idea was of taking such privilege with his property. The Mormons replied as was their custom that the oxen were the property of the Lord and the Lord had sent them, his children, to gather his property. "Children of the Lord be d-----n, answered Potter. "It is more like the work of the progeny of the devil. Let my oxen go and beat it off my place." At that one of the Saints proceeded to open the corral gate while another started the yoke of oxen for the opening and paying no attention to Potter's protests. As the driver and cattle passed thru the open gate, the enraged settler leveled his rifle on the Lords children saying, "If you are really children of the Lord, I will send you home. "The rifle cracked and a Saint went home to glory. Needless to say the remaining Saints did not tarry to collect the Master's goods but fled in terror of their lives. Potter was not bothered ever after by the Lord's family garnering his property.

Young Stephen Potter, a nephew of the Missouri settler who defied the Mormon marauders, was a member of the Hobson party when they reached Salt Lake City in 1850. Some of the Mormon scribes coming to the camp of the emigrants, recognized the likeness of young Stephen Potter to that of his Missouri uncle who had killed their brethren in performance of his duty to the Lord in collecting his belongings in 1833. After consulting among themselves, the Mormons being sure they had their man, ordered Potter to appear at their meeting house after church the next day for identification. The Hobson party to a man swore to defend their comrade to the death against his accusers. The undaunted Potter, every inch a man, flatly refused their aid arguing sensibly that their small party of 12 men would be no match against the Mormon horde. That resistance would mean only annihilation of the entire party. That he was convinced he would be able to apprise them of this error.

Arming himself with two six-shooters and a Bowie knife, the undaunted potter strode bravely to the church just as the congregation emerged. Potter ordered the eager crowd to stand back until such time as he would confer sensibly with them. He asked them how long a time had elapsed since the cattle episode. They said seventeen years. "How old was this man Potter at that time," asked Stephen. "About 35 years" said the spokesman. "That is just my age at the present time," said Potter. "I am a namesake of my uncle Stephen Potter; we are likenesses of each other. Here is a picture of him taken in 1833 and another at a later date. My uncle is dead. Compare these two pictures of him to me and justly judge for yourself." The Mormons abided by the decision, letting the matter drop and treated the emigrants with the greatest of kindness during their stay.

On arriving in California, Potter engaged in mining being very successful in the venture later returning to his old home in Missouri. He enlisted in the Confederate Army during the Civil War and was killed in battle. On reaching Salt Lake City, the Hobson party who were becoming short of means, decided to stop and work for a while in the Mormon town, where they disposed of their equipment. Alfred D. Hobson did some brick work for the wife of Brigham Young, while other members of the party found various other employment in the embryo city. Father said that the people in the city treated them very kindly. When preparing to leave Salt Lake City, the party equipped themselves with saddle horses and pack mules in order to travel lighter and make better time on their way to California.

THE HOBSON PARTY AT HAMBOLUT SINK

One man in the Hobson party had previously made the overland trip across the plains to California. This man was chosen captain of the company on account of his familiarity with the enroute over which they were to travel. When the party reached the edge of an 80 mile desert, the Humbolut Sink in Nevada, the captain of the party advised all members of the party to cut a supply of grass and carry it along as fodder for the animals and to supply themselves with canteens of water as they were to start across the desert at nightfall and make a forced march endeavoring to make the trip in one day and night, which was done.

Father was of small stature, about 5 feet 7 inches in height and weighing about 135 to 140 pounds. Of a quiet, unassuming, unruffled nature, slow to anger, wearing a perpetual smile with piercing steel gray eyes, as befitted the western frontiersman. I never saw him exhibit the least sign of fear under any circumstance. Father, himself, was not a member of the Friends Church, but from early association with surrounding relatives who were, he had absorbed all of their good qualities. His slogan was to do to others as you would have them do unto you and to follow the dictates of ones conscience. I never saw him fail under any circumstance to adhere to these principles. No one could drive or bully him. All members of the Hobson party had followed the orders of the captain of their company providing water for themselves and fodder for their animals preparatory for the trip across the desert excepting one big bulk of an arrogant bully who swore he would not be bothered by carrying fodder for his animals. After plodding until midnight thru the deep sands of the desert the captain called a halt to rest and feed the weary animals and men. Then they proceeded to unpack the fodder for their mounts. Father had put down the feed for his horses which stood quietly munching their fodder when the husky bully said, "Well, I have no feed for my animals, I guess I will take Hobson's." (Father being the smallest man in the party and who the bully thought might be the easier cowed).

Father protested telling the fellows that he had only enough feed to satisfy his own stock but would be willing to divide with him if he had more. With an oath the bully lunged at Father. At the same instant, like a flash, Dad's long rifle seemed to jump from his shoulder aimed at the fellow' chest. Just in time the other men yelled at Dad which instantly brought him to his senses. He did not fire. The bully at once realized that he had tackled the wrong Man. Shaking like a leaf, the braggart slumped away and dropped exhausted to the ground but never again assumed to impose on Father's rights. On reaching Sacramento the party disbanded. Most of the men hurried to the mines. My Father having a brother, George Hobson, living in San Jose who had preceded him to Californian in 1X47 proceeded directly there to visit his brother. While there he re-equipped and with his cousins, Stephen and Jesse Hobson, who lived in San Jose, went to the southern mines locating a mining claim near Shaws Flat on the Tuolumne River where they were very successful in mining.

JOAQUIN MURIETTA

The mining claims adjoining that of the Hobson claims were owned and operated by a young Spaniard by the name of Joaquin Murietta, a fine looking affable fellow who often paid a pleasant visit to the Hobson cabin. Murietta had a very well paying claim on which he lived with his young and attractive wife to whom he was very devoted. Lower down across the river was a claim owned and worked by a party of eight rough fellows whose claim was not remunerative. These Americans, or "Gringos" as the Mexicans called all American, coveted both the good prospects of the Spaniard's claim and his beautiful wife. Accordingly, one day while the adjoining American miners were away, the eight men who had a poor claim called on Joaquin and ordered him to abandon his claim. Being a peaceable but fearless man, Joaquin refused to be frightened whereas the Americans fell upon the defenseless Spaniard beating him into unconsciousness and cruelly defiled his wife. Leaving both for dead the ruffians retires. Joaquin survived. His wife died from the effects of the outrage and was buried by the husband near the spot. Over the death of his beautiful and beloved wife, Murietta took a solemn vow that he would avenge the outrageous death of his spouse. Leaving the claim, Murietta went to San Andreas engaging himself in a gambling house as a Faro dealer.

Watching his chances as one by one of the outriggers left the gambling hall at night, Joaquin followed and killed them on the lonely trails until he had done away with the entire number. Then began Murietta's career of lawlessness, rapine and murder. He became the marauder of the mines who at the head of a ruthless band of outlaws terrorized the state of California, murdering and robbing for many years until a sheriff's posse headed by Harry Love surprised and killed the outlaw in his effort to escape from his camp near Tulare Lake. Joaquin Murietta and his band with their sympathizers terrorized San Jose and the surrounding country rustling cattle, horses, and murdering and robbing. My uncle George Hobson conducted a milk route in San Jose during the time of Joaquin Murietta's reign of terror. Often on the route Uncle George met Joaquin who stopped for a chat. Uncle usually gave the bandit a drink of milk without charge. Murietta said, "Mr. Hobson you need not fear Murietta, he will never harm your

The settlers lived in terror. It was hardly safe for one to venture away from home after nightfall. People locked their herds of cattle and horses in corrals at night for protection and barred the doors of their log or adobe houses at night. Cattle and horse rustling was a capital offense whether committed by Americans or Mexicans. Often in the morning when the town people arose the sight of one or two outlaws hanging from the limb of a nearby tree, the work of the vigilantes, met their eye.

MOTHER OUTRUNS A MEXICAN

Often when the Mexican bandits chanced on a lone person in an isolated place, it was their custom to lasso the unfortunate and drag him to death behind the horse. One day before my mother was married to my father, she went for a ride on her race mare five or six miles out of San Jose. Seeing a lone Mexican coming in her direction and knowing the habit of the bandits, mother turned her mount back in the direction of town. Immediately the horseman quickened his pace. Mother spurred into a gallop. Looking around she saw the pursuer uncoil his riata from his saddle horn and whirl the rope preparatory for the cast at her head. Violently applying a spur and quirt, mother urged her mount to the run. The Mexican followed in hot pursuit with swinging rope to the edge of the town where he ended the chase with the girl only 50 yards ahead.

In 1851, father returned to San Jose where he bought a ranch and began the manufacture of brick; also contracting and building. At that time San Jose was a very small town, more Mexicans than "Gringos". In 1854, A.D. Hobson was married to Miss. Jane Wall (heroine of the above bandit episode). They had four children - Mary L., Louisa J., Cordelia A., and Jerome C., the author of this narrative.

A NARROW ESCAPE

Soon after their marriage, one night father heard a noise at his corral in which his cattle were locked. Thinking that the outlaws were raiding the pens, rifle in hand, he crept stealthily out of the house to protect the stock. Seeing nothing but a prowling coyote, he fired at it. The shot awakened mother from a sound sleep. Missing father she thought he had gone out of the house and had been murdered by the marauders and that she might be the next victim, she arose, armed herself and awaited beside the door with leveled revolver. Hearing father's steps on the porch, she was sure that the enemy was at hand. Luckily, father stepped to one side where the moonlight shone on his face enabling mother to see who was coming. Should he have come straight in, there is little doubt an awful tragedy would have occurred. Such was the staff of which pioneer women were made. Living ever in the shadow of danger the idea of self-preservation and to act accordingly, was ever present in mind.

HORSE STEALING

In the early 1850's, when at night if one left a saddled horse alone tethered to a hitching post in town, he could hardly expect to find the animal on his return. One man of whom my father told me, rode into San Jose one evening and thought he would be more cautious than the others had been, as a matter of precaution, rode and dismounted from his horse in front of the door of the store. Tying the end of his rope around the horses neck and holding in his hand the other end, he went inside the store to make his purchases. When he returned to mount his steed, no horse was there. Someone had quietly cut the lasso from the horses neck and ridden away, leaving the rider holding "the sack" or the end of the rope. One man had an outlaw horse that could be ridden only by the owner. One night the horse was stolen from the corral in which he was kept. The next day the horse came cantering home with a new saddle on his back. The thief had tried to ride the animal which had thrown him and beat it back home. Sometime after that, the horse was again stolen and again returned with a saddle. After that the owner kept the horse in a conspicuous place where he might act as tempter to the greedy rustlers who continued to steal the horse with the same results.

BILL WILSON

The officers of the law were hard put to keep up with the depredations of the Americans and Mexicans. When an extra desperate character was to be taken, the sheriff deputized "Bill" Wilson, a noted character and dead revolver shot, who had served in the Mexican War as assistant. Bill Wilson started out to arrest a Mexican bandit who was in the house of his sweetheart in town. The wary marauder, hearing the posse coming, escaped thru the rear window of the shack, scaling the flimsy fence of the time. Bill, seeing the man skulking thru the back lot, ordered him to halt. Not wishing to kill the man, Bill rode his horse thru the light fence in pursuit, addressing him in the Spanish tongue and ordering him to stop. The Mexican ran faster. The young and rising attorney, Mr. T.C. Rylan, who afterwards became a noted lawyer, lived in the block. Hearing the commotion, Mr. Rylan emerged from his rear door shotgun in hand. Seeing that the outlaw was about to escape, Bill fired his revolver at the Mexican just as Mr. Rylan emerged from his door. Rylan in his excitement also fired. As the Mexican lunged forward, dead, he almost fell against Rylan who sprang backwards and slammed the door.

STATE RECORDS

For a short time the state records were kept at Santa Cruz. Afterwards they were transferred to San Jose. Later the documents were transferred to the present capital at Sacramento. When the state records were shipped from San Jose to Sacramento, documents and safes were freighted from San Jose to Alviso by my father, A.D. Hobson, in a prairie schooner drawn by oxen. Hobson was a close friend of Peter Burnett, first white Governor of California.

MOUNTAIN CHARLEY

In the 1850's antelope were abundant in the Santa Clara Valley. Grizzly bear were numerous in the mountains and very destructive to stock. One monster grizzly in the foothills of the Santa Cruz mountains was notorious for his depredations of long standing. A heavy reward was offered by the ranchers for his scalp as the bear had killed many cattle and horses on the range far and wide. A resident of the section where the mighty monarch of the mountains ranged, Mr. Charles McKernan, "Mountain Charleyn, as he was called, a man who all loved for his kindly ways from whose door none were ever turned away, was the owner of a vast range, well stocked with cattle and horses. The monarch had laid waste to many of Mountain Charley's stock. A young sportsman from San Francisco came to the section. With much braggadocio, he persuaded Mountain Charley to go with him in quest of the varmint. The two men set out armed with their trusty single shot muzzle loading rifles and Bowie knives. The men agreed, owing to the experience of Mountain Charley, that he should proceed in advance. Should they meet the bear, Charley would fire his rifle and pass back the empty gun to his colleague who was to hand back his own loaded gun.

Sauntering thru a narrow mountain gorge, Charley came face to face with the might bruin at close range. Mountain Charley, undaunted, fired at the animal inflicting a wound. Hastily passing the empty gun to the rear, expecting his companion to exchange with him the loaded gun, but no one was there. The braggart had fled, leaving the hardy mountaineer to fight his own battle. There was no time to retreat. The bear was upon him embracing the man within his mighty arms. Undaunted, Charley drew his Bowie knife. As the bear squeezed and crushed him, Charley with mighty effort repeatedly plunged his knife into the heart of the bear. The fleeing braggart soon found help. When they returned, the man was unconscious in the grip of the slain grizzly. Kindly neighbors carried the hero to medical aid. His skull was broken and a silver plate was put in the aperture of the head, something that Mountain Charley carried to his grave many years after. Many people now living in Santa Clara Valley still remember this episode and reverence the memory of Mountain Charley for his many good deeds and charitable acts.

EARLY SAN FRANCISCO

In 1852 my father worked at this trade of brick work in San Francisco. He helped build the Bella Union Theater on Kearny Street. At that time San Francisco was mostly a small tent city. One could almost throw a stone across the town. It was cheaper to buy a shirt than to have one washed. The miners usually bought a new one throwing the old one away. Eggs sold for $1.00 each. A fifty pound sack of flour sold for $50.00. My mother was the first white woman who visited Alum Rock Springs, six miles out of San Jose.

A. D. HOBSON ON THE RUSSIAN RIVER

In 1856, my father, mother, and two children, Mary and Louise, with my uncle, Mother's brother, Henry C. Wall, emigrated from San Jose to Sonoma County locating on Russian River on Hobson's Creek, named after father at what is now the summer resort of Hacienda, 12 miles below Healdsburg. In 1857 he purchased the squatters right of a fairly improved ranch from a man named Tom Shaw, three miles east of the first location also on Russian River opposite the present Mirabel Park Resort. In 1852 this same Tom Shaw built the first dwelling house on the Hobson Ranch, made largely by hand split lumber which is still standing and in good repair and still occupied as a dwelling house. In 1852, a man named Top Powers had a saw mill operated by horse power on Russian River at a point where Mirabel Park is now. At that time Lou Rhidenhour bought lumber from Powers, made a raft of the lumber and floated it down the river to Hilton and built his ranch house. The house is still inhabited by his daughter, Mrs. Walter Covey and her family. An old sea-faring man, Captain Cooper, about 1825 married a Spanish lady by the name of Wohler who inherited the Molino Grant from her father which extended from somewhere near where Sebastopol is situated to Russian River where the ranch buildings were located now owned by the Chisholm Company. Captain Cooper related that in 1830-31 no rain fell for a period of eighteen months; that Russian River bed dried up, it became necessary to drive his stock almost to where Healdsburg now is to find a pond in the river bed to water his cattle. This condition at that time must have been statewide, as the old residents of Santa Clara Valley reported a like condition. Hugh and Thomas Porter settled on Russian River one and one-half miles north of the Hobson Ranch in 1844. At the outbreak of the Mexican War the brothers enlisted in the U.S.Army at Sonoma under General Butler whose command was transferred to Monterey. After the war, the Porter brothers resumed farming on the ranch on the river. At that time, their nearest trading post was Sonoma. There were no wagon roads leading to that point. Supplies were transported on pack mules. One week' time was required to complete the round trip. In the early 1850's, elk, antelope and deer abounded in this locality and grizzly bear were numerous. The settlers had pens made of log in which to corral their hogs at night as protection against the ravages of bear.

MRS. PORTER MEETS A BEAR

Thomas Porter's wife, Mrs. Missouri Porter, a pioneer woman, at eventide, bucket in hand, started from the cabin to milk the cow. Sauntering along the brushy trail of the meadow admiring the golden sunset, humming a tune and occasionally calling to the cow, "Come Flossy, come Flossy, sock cow, sooook." At last, seeing a brown form partly concealed in the foliage which she supposed was the cow, the woman approached. With her foot she gently kicked the sleeping form. The woman was horror stricken when the suddenly awakened animal with a horrible snort sprang from its lair and dashed into the forest. It was a huge grizzly. Aunt Missouri, as she was affectionately called by her neighbors, was as terror stricken as the bear. The cow was not milked that evening.

MOTHER MEETS A BAD INDIAN

Wagon roads were an almost unknown quantity at this time mostly following the course of the river. There were at that time many Indians in Sonoma County - some bad ones. One day while father was absent from home, my mother heard "Bull" and "Tiger, two huge mastiffs utter a low defying growl. Looking out she saw "Calystern, the local bad Indian clad only in breech clout, entering the yard armed with a long spear. Mother ordered him to retire. "No," said the Indian. Mother said, "If you don't go back I will set the dogs on you.n "I no fraid dog. I killum.n Take him, Bull and l Tiger, said my mother. The dogs lunged savagely forward. At the sight of the savage, charging beasts, the Indian's bravery suddenly deserted him. In fright and terror the Indian raced once around the house with the dogs a close second. )

At the second round, the terror stricken Indian vaulted the picket fence, leaving his breech clout in the teeth of Bull. The last mother saw of the Indian, he was headed unclad over the bank into the river. Safe to say, she was never troubled by Indians after that. The Indian spread the news among his tribe, saying she was a heap dangerous "Long nife squaw." Father engaged in farming and clearing the land on the ranch and raising cattle. Often building chimneys for the settlers for which he was noted, as his chimneys never smoked, and sometimes putting up brick buildings in Healdsburg.

FATHER GOES TO FRASER RIVER

In 1866 there was a great mining excitement on the Fraser River in British Columbia, Canada. Miners flocked there by the thousands. Once more the call of the wild harkened in the blood of the pioneer. Hobson could not resist the call. He went into the Sacramento Valley, purchasing six hundred head of cattle from a man by the name of "Jimmie" Johns. With the cattle, 13 cowboys, including Tom Cargile, Tom Tibbs, Ed. McKee, and Al Hartman (ax-circus rider of the Lee Circus - a California affair) fourteen pack mules, one ton of flour, and other supplies, the pioneers started on their long trek to B.C. Their route followed up the Sacramento River to Red Bluff and thru the Modoc Co. lava beds, which was the stronghold of the Modoc Indian warriors, commanded by the noted chief, Captain Jack, who held at bay for a long time the U.S. soldiers under the command of General Canby, who faced the almost impossible task of routing the Indians from the natural fortress of the lava beds. After a long and unsuccessful siege, General Canby sent a flag of truce to Captain Jack asking for a parley with him with the hopes of a peaceful settlement and with the Indians returning to the Government Reservation at Klamath Agency (Ft. Klamath).

The wily Captain Jack agreed to a truce and conference with the General and staff. According to the agreement, the meeting place of the two factions should be at a point in a gulch midway between the two forces, neighbor faction to be armed. Gen. Canby unexpectedly fell into the trap laid by the wily Indian going to the appointed place of meeting accompanied by his staff, ten unarmed officers. Soon Capt. Jack and his ten blanket-clad Modoc Indians appeared. After a short talk to allay any suspicion that might lurk in the mid of Canby, at a given signal from Jack, his men drew from the folds of their blankets their rifles and massacred the whites to a man. Jack and his men fled further back into the lava beds. Finally Jack was captured and hanged at Ft. Alamato. Mr.Applegate, an old scout and trapper, who was friendly with the Indians, was instrumental in talking peace between the Indians and the Government and inducing them to return and reside on the reservation at the Klamath Agency. The aged scout Mr. Applegate, clad in the garb of those days of buckskin shirt and trousers, presides at the present time over the Municipal Auto Camp at Klamath Falls, Oregon.

It was just at the close of the Indian War that the Hobson cavalcade passed thru the lava beds. The Indians were not yet completely reconciled. The party often saw skulking Indians on distant ridges and saw their signal fires, a means used by the aborigines to communicate to other of their clan in the distance. To advise of the approach of the enemy, a blanket stretched over the smoke, then removed and put back again which causes the smoke to ascend in puffs. Each volume of smoke represents something in their code. Fortunately, the party of whites were not molested by the Indians. Their route lay down the Deschutes River in Oregon, the John Day River to the Columbia River, up the Columbia to Wallala, where the river was about one mile in width but not swift. In those days there were no bridges or ferries along the route. The only alternative was to swim the 600 head of cattle, pack mules and saddle horses across the Columbia River. Several Indians of the Umatilla tribe were engaged with canoes. The cattle were driven into the river. Indians in canoes flanking both sides of the swimming herd in order to direct them in their course toward the opposite side. While some of the Indians in canoes were loaded with commissary, others took as passengers the cowboys who swam their mounts and pack horses behind the canoes. Finally the entire outfit landed on the north side of the river with only a few casualties among the cattle.

RATTLESNAKES

From this point their route lay toward Wenatchee, Washington, the official end of the Okanogan-Caribou trail, which the Hobson party followed up the Okanogan River to the International Boundary into Canada, where Osoyoos is now located. The Hobson party reached a point on the Caribou trail in Canada where the trail led thru a narrow mountain gorge which was only wide enough for the cattle and horses to pass thru in single file. The gorge was a veritable rattlesnake den inhabited by thousands of wriggling, squirming rattlesnakes. The party could either force the herd single file thru the vermin infested gorge, or the alternative of a detour for hundreds of miles. After a counsel of war, the party decided on the former. Bunching the cattle at the mouth of the pass, the yelling cowboys, firing their revolvers, crowded their mounts in the rear of the cattle until the leader with a terrorized snort entered the gorge, followed one by one of the other stock. The madly hissing snakes stung a few of the cattle, after which the reptiles, more concerned with their own safety, endeavored to escape. As the herd rushed thru the pass hundreds of the reptiles were beaten to death by the pouncing hoofs. In the meantime, the cowboys amused themselves shooting the snakes outside the entrance. When the herd had passed thru, the pack mules were forced over the trail, then the cowboys sped one by one thru the pass on their mounts. Only three or four of the cattle and none of the horses or mules were bitten. The Indians feasted on the few cattle that were bitten by the snakes.

Last summer, I followed a bit of father's old trail thru the pass thru which is now being built the Okanogan Caribou Auto Highway. North past the long narrow lake of Okanogan, which is said to be practically bottomless. The tide on this lake is said to rise and fall in unison with the ocean. Some geologists think the lake might have a subterranean connection the Pacific Ocean some 300 miles west. For may years, according to Indian tradition, a monster serpent 30 feet long has been seen at intervals by the tribes in Lake Okanogan. The ancient customs of the Indians living near the lake in hunting for deer was for a large party of their men and boys to go far back in the hills from the lake, forming a line describing a semi-circle approaching the lake. Turning their dogs free beating the brush and much noise, gradually closing the line toward the lake, driving the deer in advance, causing the frightened deer to head for and plunge into the lake in order to escape the pursuers. The Indian women wait in canoes on the lake in order to capture the swimming deer after they plunge into the lake. During one such drive when the deer had plunged into the lake and the eager squaws were closing in on the swimming animals, the huge serpent arose from the bottom of the lake, it is said, pulling the large buck under the water where it was seen no more. The terror-stricken squaws scattering in dismay for the shore.

Later Indians say three of the tribe were floating logs along the shores of Lake Okanogan, suddenly the huge serpent appeared in the water nearby. The Indians in their mad scramble fell into the water and swam ashore. The Indians describe the huge reptile, which they call Pogi, as being 30 feet in length with a large flat head and gleaming eyes. Last summer, while near the lake, we saw a large number of Indians returning from the vicinity of the lake. Some of the clan had reported seeing the monster in the lake. As far as I know, no white person has seen the legendary monster. Following Okanogan north, the Hobson party turned northwest to Thompson River, which they followed to its intersection with the Fraser River. Then they followed on the Fort Hope, the heart of the mining district where the first mining claim had been registered in B.C. Fort Hope was situated at the head of navigation of the Fraser River where side-wheeler steamer Active delivered the miners supplies shipped from San Francisco, the then only available source of supply to the mines at that time.

FATHER RETURNS FROM FRASER RIVER

At Fort Hope, the cattle were disposed of at a profit. Some of the Hobson party remaining at the mines; father and others going on to Vancouver. I don't know the names of but a few of the hardy ones who accompanied my father on the trip outside of the following: Tom Gargyle, Ed. McKee, Geo.McKee, Tob Tebs, and Al Hartman, an old circus tumbler and rider from the Lee Circus, the first circus in California. Lee Circus started on a tour to Australia and was shipwrecked. The circus was a California product, their headquarters being in Sacramento Valley. After a stay in New Westminster and Vancouver for some time, Hobson and Tom Cargyle took passage from Victoria late in the fall of 1866 on an old side-wheeler steamer called the "Active" for San Francisco. The steamer was crowded with returning miners who were anxious to get back to the states. No staterooms were available, passengers slept crowded on the cabin floor in their blankets, glad of a place to spread them and lucky to get a meal. One day out to sea, a fearful storm arose which banged and buffeted the old tub of a steamer washing the decks until the passengers despaired of reaching port. Some were disposing their meals, some prayed, others cussed, while others just "sots. The Captain, an old salt of varied experiences said, "In all my born days, I ain't seed no storm like that."

After seven days and nine hours of horror, the faithful old steamer entered the Golden Gate. At the waterfront of San Francisco, the angry tide was awash on the wharf. After a days rest in San Francisco, Hobson and Cargyle crossed the bay on a ferry that landed somewhere near San Rafael. Taking a stage drawn by four horses to Santa Rosa, father arrived home the next day to his family after an absence of nine months. He brought back the saddle used on the trip, Colt six-shooter, and saddle bags which his family have kept as sacred relics of his eventful trip. On father's return home, he began where he left off on the farm. In 1881 he purchased a large sheep range near Boonville, Mendocino County, which he owned until the time of his death in November 1897, my mother surviving until March, 1912.