DAD IN MEXICO As told to his son, Bud

In the year of 1910, it being June of about the first week, my friend, Dick Bundy, and I were traveling horseback with a pack mule up a large canyon that drained to the northwest out of the Sierra Madre Mountains, in the state of Senora, Mexico. No cattle or horses ranged in this area, only the native Indians and game animals traveled these trails which were faint and hard to follow, so we at times lost them. A fair sized creek flowed along the bottom, which we crossed back and forth as we rode up the canyon. Nice trout were noticeable now and then so we determined to make camp early enough to catch some for supper. This was the third day out since departing from the Mormon Colony which was located not far from Morelos, Mexico. Our pack mule carried only the bare essentials, most of our food being derived from the game of the land.

Pancho Villa, with his rabble army was marauding through the lower country but we doubted that any of them would come up into this high rough mountain terrain. Nevertheless we kept a careful watch and checked for signs of human travel. Dick owned a 30-40 Kraig, a good gun that could knock down a bear (or a man, too) if the need should arise. We also made our trail as difficult to follow as possible, backtracking several times to throw any potential trackers off:

That afternoon we made camp in a side draw out of view from the main canyon. I climbed up on a ridge to watch our back-trail. I could see pretty good for a mile or so and figured to spot anyone who might be trailing us. When it got dark I returned to camp where Dick had a nice mess of fish ready to eat. That night it rained hard for which we were thankful because it would dim and cover our track.

Another day of riding put us into high country where large pines grew tall and big mule deer bounced through the trees. Sometimes bighorn sheep were visible in the rougher areas. There were bear tracks along and rake marks on an occasional tree. In mid afternoon I shot a nice tom turkey. There was much game for a man to eat in this land of plenty. We made camp at the base of a high ledge where horse feed was good and it was not too far from a mountain stream. Next morning while Dick worked at putting up a tent and other chores I went looking for venison. Down below me two big draws merged to form a sort of basin where quite a scope of country was visible. I climbed up on a large overhanging rock 12 or 15 feet above the brush on the lower side. I sat with my legs hanging over its outward edge, waiting for a big buck to move into view. I'd been there 30 to 45 minutes when of a sudden a big brown bear came out from the base of that rock with a loud "WOOF! WOOF!" I thought: this must be his den and he's coming up here after me! I jumped to my feet and raced up the hillside above. When I looked around, that big fellow was bounding along nearly to the bottom of the draw, going in the opposite direction. He must have been as spooked as I was. A short time later I shot a fat doe for camp meat. We made jerky out of the front and hind quarters to take with us.

Our purpose for coming out here was to search for some lost gold mines, along with hunting and fishing. An old Mexican, who was a friend of my brother, Martin, told us that the Spanish had mined gold and silver in these mountains many years before. They had used the local Indians as slave labor to mine out the rich ore. Finally, the slaves, along with the help of other Indians, had killed all the Spanish, then filled in or covered over the diggings. The big mine shafts were walled up so no one had been able to relocate them. He drew us maps of the area where the legend said the mines were located. We figured we were camped in the general area and could now do some serious looking.

After a couple days of prospecting we found a mine shaft, about 4 feet high that ran back into the mountain on a gentle downward grade. Next morning we picked up some good pine knots for torches and proceeded to check out that tunnel. It was somewhat difficult to walk in as the ceiling was too low, requiring a feller to bend over. We moved carefully down the shaft, inspecting the walls for signs of ore bearing rock, but found none. We had been in the tunnel for quite awhile and I figured we were at least 300 feet into the mountain side. Our second set of torches had been burning for awhile when we came to a vertical down-shaft. A strange sound came up out of that hole, sort of a pup's whimper. Holding the torches out over the shaft gave sufficient light to see that it bottomed out about 5 feet below and there we could see two bear cubs.

Yipes!!! Where was Mama Bear? Dick got so excited he dropped his torch and it snuffed out. We began moving toward the entrance as rapidly as possible with me leading the way with my torch. Having to walk in a bent over position caused us to bang our heads often as we tried to hurry along. Dick kept saying, " Wait for me!" but I didn't have time to wait for anybody. Any minute that old she-bear might come home and if she found us in her house she'd tear us apart. Even now she might be coming down that tunnel toward us. In my haste I knocked my torch against the side wall and it, too, went out. Total darkness!! Oh, what a beating our poor heads took as we felt our way onward.

I kept telling Dick to hurry and in his haste he bumped into me several times. We each knew the other was near by the groans and moans that were knocked out of us every time we collided with the rock wall or ceiling. At last!!!, what a blessed sight! Daylight at the mouth of the tunnel. When we broke out into the fresh air there was no lingering at the entry way cause we didn't want to meet Mama Bear any place. No sir, not any place at all.

We just marked that shaft off as a dry hole. According to legend all the ore bearing shafts had been rocked shut anyway. The old man had told us to search for rock walls that sealed off the rich gold producing mines. The next three weeks were spent recuperating from our mine shaft run and prospecting all the surrounding ridges and draws for covered-over gold mines, but we found no discernible indication of any sort of mining operation. Our hunting and fishing efforts were always fruitful, for game was plentiful and fish abounded. It rained a couple of times but mostly the weather was ideal, making this an enjoyable trip. We finally decided the mines were not to be found by us, so packed up and headed northeast 15 or 20 miles, looking for the juncture of two small rivers that drain out of this same mountain range. The Old Mexican had said that in the bedrock of the west fork, about 175 feet above the confluence of the two streams, there was a mark that lined up to a distant ridge wherein another rich vein of gold ore had been mined by the Spaniards and then covered over by the Indians. He also said this same ridge had a curious break in its highest point which penetrated the entire width. This was located in lower country where we thought Pancho Villa might be stirring around so when we got to where we could see the rivers below us, we left our horses hidden in the trees about a mile up the ridge.

We walked on down to the river being careful to keep out of sight in case the rebel troops were in the area. It was lucky for us that we took this precaution for a well traveled trail paralleled the river on our side. The time was late in the afternoon when we returned to our horses to back-track about 1 mile: to a safer camping place. No campfire that night, but the next day we again cautiously walked down along the ridge to a point where we could watch the river bank for quite a ways in each direction.

When siesta time came around, or about 1 PM, I slipped off along the river's edge while Dick kept a lookout. At a place where the river bed was composed of solid rock, there was a long natural crack that angled in the direction of a ridge about 3 miles distant in a northwest direction across some open brush country. I didn't know if the mark was the correct one but that night at camp we decided to go take a look at that ridge.

The next afternoon we rode down through the trees as near to the edge of the flat as we could get and when it got dark we traveled on over toward the big ridge. The brush was 3 to 4 feet high and quite thick so we didn't make very good time. After awhile it started to sprinkle and the rain became increasingly heavy as we moved along. It got so dark that only by the frequent lightening flashes could we tell where our horses were going. I put my matches up on top of my head, under my hat, hoping to keep them dry. We had no rain slickers, only jackets which were soaked through before long. The rain then slacked off with a few breaks in the clouds, but it was still very dark. After awhile our horses stopped and I could make out a dark object that looked like a building in front of us. We sat there a few minutes, not saying a word. The next flash of lightening revealed an old dilapidated cabin that appeared to be deserted. We again waited and the next flash gave the same impression. In a whisper I asked Dick what he thought. "Looks deserted to me", he said. I got off my horse and with rifle in hand walked over to the old door and pushed it open. Carefully I reached under my hat to get a match which I struck on a dry section of the inside wall.

There on the floor, no more than 3 feet away, lay the ghastly sight of a Mexican with his throat cut from one ear to the other. His head lay in a dark pool of coagulated blood. I was so startled that I could hardly breath for a moment, then the flame of the match burned my fingers and I dropped it. It didn't take long to get back on my horse and whisper to Dick that we'd better get out of there.

After we put a mile or so between us and the cabin I stopped to tell Dick what I'd seen. We decided it must be the work of Pancho Villa's men. We figured this country was too dangerous for two young gringos like us to be in so we turned to the southwest toward the foothills of the mountain country we had come from. The clouds finally cleared sufficiently to expose a half moon and make our travel easier. We continued to ride most of the night and finally stopped about an hour before daylight. When it came light, I was able to determine our approximate location. We were up in the ridges and draws away from any easy line of travel. This was the rangeland of some hacienda or ranch. Here and there were little bunches of wild cattle, but we encountered no riders.

That afternoon we found a large cave going back into the side of a ridge on a horizontal plane. Cautiously we walked into the entrance a short distance. The memory of that mine shaft adventure was still fresh in our minds. Having our rifles in hand gave us more confidence but we didn't intend to venture beyond the light. After checking for tracks in the soft dirt of the cave floor, we felt assured that no man-eating creature claimed this cave as it's place of bode, so we sat down on a big rock to rest ourselves. Dick was looking around when he spotted a dark shaped object hanging from the ceiling over on the far side of the cave. "I'll bet that's a honey bee's hive", he said. "I've not noticed any bees buzzin' around"' I told him. "That's right, maybe it's an old abandoned one. Could be there's still some honey in it, though. We haven't tasted anything sweet since we left the colonies. Think I'll climb up there and check it out."

The cave wall being rough, he soon had himself high enough to where he could reach out and pull a chunk loose. He eyed it over some, then bit off a chaw. "Yep, sure enough. That's a honey comb all right. Must be quite old though, it's just sort of sweetish with an odd rancid taste." He threw a piece down to me. I picked it up and looked it over. Sort of waxy looking all right, but doesn't look like honey comb to me. "Taste it", he urges, but I decline. He climbs down, still chewing some of it. By now our eyes have gotten more accustomed to the dim light. I looked around some more and farther back in the cave saw another clump of that waxy stuff hanging down from the ceiling. We walked over to get a closer look. There's BATS hanging there on that blob. Dick has already swallowed most of his chaw, but he started spitting an spewing, trying to get the thought from his mind and taste from his mouth "Well, I'll be danged", he says. I don't say anything. I'm just glad I didn't eat any of that bat dung.

We camped that night by the cave and as we continued our travels back to the Mormon Colonies we stayed well up in the ridges and foot hills avoiding the roads and trails and all human habitation, arriving at the Colony within 3 or 4 more days. Many of the Saints were moving back to the U.S., including my older brother and one of my sisters who was married to Roy Bundy. It was rumored that Pancho Villa had put out an ultimatum that all gringos who where found in Mexico after September 1 st would be shot.

About the 20th of August I crossed the Mexican border, horseback, and headed north up through the state of New Mexico. Whenever I had a chance I would stop at a ranch or farm and stay the night or sometimes a day or two, then ride on north. I rode many miles across good grazing land.

Some wolves had been following me for 2 or 3 days, not coming close but I could hear their howls from one direction or another as I traveled northward. One afternoon they moved up closer and I could see them scattered out, some off to my side, others spread out in back of me. They didn't really seem to be hostile or intent on making a meal out of me and my horse. This was open grassland country with no trees and very little brush, but still I was somewhat worried about my situation. I prayed often that God would protect me. I had a few cartridges for my rifle but did not want to use them, knowing that I could only kill a few. Ahead, I could see the tall poles of a telegraph line running from east to west. The sun was about to set when,approaching near it, my grateful eyes spotted a splintered, lightening struck, pole that had not burned. With these pieces of wood I made a small fire which I kept burning all night.

The wolves gathered around in a circle, the firelight reflecting in their eyes. They seemed to be more curious than hungry. My horse didn't act very nervous or spooky as he kept trying to graze on the grass as far out from the fire as I'd let him go. The wolves howled quite often, enough so I didn't have any trouble staying awake. Some of them sat on their haunches, watching me, while others lay down sleeping. When daylight came they left, 2 or 3 at a time. Then I mounted up to ride north and they never followed me anymore. I knew my prayers for protection had been answered.

About 3 weeks after leaving old Mexico, I crossed the Colorado River at Lee's Ferry and that night stayed at a ranch in Rock House Valley. Then I traveled north and west until I arrived at Atkinville on the Virgin River. The last leg of my journey took me down through the Virgin River Gulch, then on west to Littlefield, Arizona where I had been born and grew up. I arrived there on September 27, 1910, about 5 or 6 days after crossing Lee's Ferry, It was good to be back home with Dad and Aunt Dory and my brothers: Levi and Wallace.