AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ELDER J. C. CLAPP.-PART IV. THE ESCAPE FROM UTAH; ENCOUNTER WITH LOT HUNTINGTON; THE ADVENT OF THE REORGANIZATION; A REMARKABLE VISION.

"Before I united with the Reorganization I had concluded that all that was good in 'Mormonism' was slain and buried with the Prophet, but not so now, for light and truth shone out in every sermon, and was manifest in every prayer, and seemed to be the inspiration of every hymn . I wished for the pinions of an eagle, that I might fly to every hamlet and tell of the rich. treasures that I had found.”

I

LEFT UTAH before my father did; I went to Southern California, and he went to Northern California, so I never saw him after I left the camp. I wish to say in regard to Elder Clapp, that although he took such a strong stand against Utah, he never denied the latterday work, but defended it till the day of his death, and would have been with the Reorganization and one of its defenders if he had had the opportunity. This may be disputed, as one of the elders visited my father just a short time before he died at Liberty, San Joaquin County, California, so it becomes my duty to speak of this visit just as it was written of to me by father. But first let it be understood that at that time the elder in question was a young man, and very zealous, and I will say, not speaking reproachfully of him, he was like I was, (perhaps I was much more so than he,) he had more zeal than wisdom. Father was an old veteran in the cause, and he did not need to be told that he had made a mistake, for he was too sensible of the fact, and it was too late for him to remedy the matter; what he needed was one to go to him in the spirit of gospel love and encourage him, rather than denounce him. There were few, if any, better acquainted with the doctrine of the church, and at the time of the visit he was suffering great mental anguish for the mistake he had made, and the visit, although meant for good, only added to his anguish. I only mention this matter to explain why my father did not enter the church.

Returning to my own narrative I will say that when spring came I began to fix to take my family back to California with me. Two of my sisters by this time had married to Gentiles instead of Mormons, and now my dependents were my mother and the two younger sisters, and my little brother, who was six or seven years old. One of my brothers-in-law heard of a man who was going through to California with a large herd of cattle on a new route, and he made arrangements for me to go in his train for protection. The man, Mr. D. M. Yates, wanted some one to go that could talk with the Indians, for he would have to pass through at least three different tribes of Indians; so I was just the fellow for the place. Our road was a cut-off, and would strike the old California road at the old Gravely Ford on the Humboldt River, after which I would be well acquainted with the road myself. The train was to pass within ten or fifteen miles of Camp Floyd at a certain time,

so I made my calculations to start so as to meet them at the nearest point possible.

I started across the country on a road I was not acquainted with, but I felt confident that I could make it all right; but the road took me too far to the right, or north, and when night came I found myself far from where I had intended to be, and I had to camp on the bleak prairies. In the morning I took new bearings and guided by the mountains I started across the country in a direction that I knew I would strike the trail of the train if it had passed. There was no road, but my course was down a long valley, and

although the valley was quite smooth, I found it quite a bumpy ride. Being something of a mountaineer I knew the train must pass between where we were and some mountains I could see on ahead, so I felt quite easy and confident. About noon I spied two men riding across the country from the east, and they came directly in front of us and dismounted. They were about one fourth of a mile in front of us, and I felt sure that we were in for it. I asked mother what she thought of it, and she said, "I guess they are the destroying angels, but we had as well go on and face the music and be done with it, for," said she, "I am tired of this way of living." I resolved to meet them boldly, and although it was no time for levity, I told the story about the old Indian when he was going to fight the bear. He prayed and asked the Lord to keep him, "But," said he, "if you don't help me, for mercy's sake don't help the bear." My sister Sarah was sitting in the front seat with me, and I laid my revolvers in her lap, set my doublebarreled gun between my knees, and drove on to what I fully expected to be death to some or all of us. As we came within six or eight rods of them, one of them got up and started towards us, and I leveled my gun on him, and told him to halt. He stopped, and I saw at once that he was as badly scared as I was, but I found

SARAH M. ANDERSON.

This is Elder Clapp's sister, who, as a girl, stood between him and danger. She was born April 13, 1847, and died in Los Angeles January 1, 1904.

he could not talk English, and his partner was in the same fix. I asked him if he understood Spanish, and I found they could both talk Spanish as well or better than I could. So we soon had an understanding. They were Frenchmen and belonged to the train that I was looking for, but they had gone by the way of Camp Floyd and had filled up on Camp Floyd whisky, and they had missed their way and were as badly lost as we were. Their names were Joe Breson and Mike Stoup. We were glad to meet, for they needed help as badly as I did. We camped and got a good dinner, and all felt refreshed and comforted. I told the young men the danger I was in, and a little of my experience in the Camp, and they both pledged themselves to stand by me even to death. I found them to be true men, and years after this Mr. Breson married the girl that held my pistols when I first met him.

I told them I was not out of danger, or that I had not gotten to the most dangerous point; for I knew when an obnoxious person left the place they generally waited till they got well out into the Indian country, so that the deed would be attributed to the Indians. It was generally apostates and Gentiles that were killed, and many of those murders the Indians never heard of. I told our new friends that I knew we were on the right course and would soon strike the trail, although I could see no sign of the train being close to us, for a large herd of cattle in motion will raise a dust that can be seen for miles.

We drove on till night, camped and got supper, and then made a drive after dark and made a dry camp. This precaution was that Indians, if there were any about, could not locate us, and it was not wise to make a fire after dark unless we were in force strong enough to protect ourselves. We struck the trail just at dark, and I knew by the trail they left that they had gone on at least six hours ahead of us. We camped on as clear a spot of ground as we could find. It is bad policy when Indians are hostile to camp near brush or hills or hollows. I told the boys to tie their horses' heads down close to their feet so they would not whinny and thus betray us to any Indians that might be in hearing distance of us, and for them to go to bed and I would stand guard alone. Mother fixed them a bed on the ground, and they soon were enjoying the sleep that had been superinduced by their association with Camp Floyd whisky.

All was still during the night, with the exception of an occasional serenade by the coyotes. In walking around during the night to keep awake I stepped on a big rattlesnake, but I exhibited more agility in getting off of him that I did in getting onto him.

In the morning we were off early and soon under way, and before noon we were up with the train. Explanation followed and we learned that Captain Yates had concluded that I wasn't coming, and that the two Frenchmen had deserted him, and he had concluded to go on without us; but now we were all right and all were jolly. I was to be interpreter, and for this service I was to be exempt from all guard duty. This was very agreeable to my feelings, and

I felt for once it had rained porridge and found my dish right side up. We would, on our trip, pass through three different tribes of Indians, and I was able to talk with them all; if not, I could always find some that could talk some other Indian tongue that I could talk, so I felt able to be the interpreter for them.

But I stop to mention a little incident that took place just as we were leaving the camp. My mother, being a most devoted Latter Day Saint, was always looking and hoping for "young Joseph" to come and take the lead of the church, and just before we pulled out she said to me, "Now, Joseph, you have been so very kind to me that I only feel at liberty to ask one more favor of you, and if you will grant me this, I will agree to be your servant the longest day I live." And she wanted a promise before she would get into the wagon.

I said, "All right, mother, what is it?"

"It is," said she, "that when Joseph comes out, you will bring me back to the church."

I said, "All right, mother, get in"; and so she got into the wagon. The two Frenchmen and Captain Yates boarded with me all the way across to California, and all became my best friends. I was called quite frequently to interpret for the boys, for the Indians began coming in, and the boys were trading with them and buying bows and arrows and moccasins and other things, and here let me say that when Indians come into camp quite freely there is generally but little danger. The danger is when you know you are in an Indian country and can see no Indians; but when they come in, and especially when the women and children come in, there is no danger.

Our guide over the new road was one Howard Egan, who had made himself notorious by killing a man by the name of Munroe, and another one or two. I knew Egan quite well, and knew that he had a bad record, but on this trip he behaved himself all right. At Simpson Spring, on the border of the desert, Al Huntington, who was simply a red-handed murderer, came into the camp and made himself very agreeable. I knew that he was there for no good, but I did not want to make a disturbance; but I thought it best to watch him, which I did with much vigilance, for I was well satisfied that his mission was to take my life. That night we started across the desert, and it was a lonely night. The full moon and clear sky, and white, sandy desert, made it almost as light as day. Huntington could find no place to ride but alongside of my wagon, and my sister Sarah, fully believing that I was in danger, always managed to keep between me and Huntington. When he would ride up on one side she would move over to that side, and in that way we passed the night. In the morning we stopped at a little salty spring to rest and get breakfast, intending to complete the distance across the desert in the afternoon. While we were in camp Mr. Huntington came up to me and said, "Joe, there are just lots of antelope right over the ridge," pointing to a low ridge about a half mile south of us, "let us go over and get

one." And this opened the ball. I had managed to keep Sarah quiet till that moment, but at that she said, "No, not much, Mr. Huntington. Joe is not going out of this camp with you." Huntington laughed a coarse laugh and said, "I guess Sallie is afraid I will hurt Joe," and she blurted out, "Yes, I am, you villian." And she ran to Captain Yates and shouted, "O, Mr. Yates, this man is a murderer, and he is here to kill my brother. He has tried to kill him before. He is one of the destroying angels, etc." This made a little disturbance in the camp, and Captain Yates called up Mr. Huntington and gave him his walking papers, and told his men to shoot Mr. Hunt

ington if they ever saw him again near the camp.

I believe this Mr. Huntington, who was the son of Lemick Newton, is alive yet, and I want him to know, although he may not asknowledge it, that it is every word truth, and much worse than I have painted it. Now I wish to write that I have withheld much and minified much because of the love I still have for many of the people of Utah. They were all the people I ever knew till I was a grown man, and for this reason I have put these things in as mild a form as I could, and yet give the people to understand why I am what I am and where I am. The brave and beautiful girl that stood by me so nobly, and crowded between me and danger, died from the effects of an operation in Los Angeles on New-year's day, 1904. I am glad to say that she died strong in the faith of the restored gospel.

PORTER ROCKWELL.

"I was acquainted with Lot Huntington, Al Huntington, Lot Smith, Bill Hickman, Porter Rockwell, Ike Hatch, Joe Worthington, Eph Hanks, and a host of others, and knew what their business was... I was urged a number of times to join the band of 'angels' (?)"

Captain Yates put a guard over my wagon every night until we got nearly to California. This he thought was necessary, as I always camped a few rods from the other wagons on account of having the only women folks in the train. I have now told a very brief and badly connected story of what I endured in the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, and all because I had an independent spirit, and a desire to be honest, but I have told but little in comparison. to what I might tell. To those that will deny these things, and scoff at the idea of blood-atonement, and that there was ever an organization known as destroying angels, let me say they are very