20076, 20077. The Arizona Miner, Prescott, Arizona Territory, January 20th, 1872. We arrived at Camp Date Creek late at night... (article)

The Arizona Miner Prescott, Arizona Territory January 20th, 1872 We arrived at Camp Date Creek late at night, and we found the sutler open, with the owner Geo. H. Kimball ready to receive us, which he did, in a very hospitable manner. The buildings comprising the military post of Camp Date Creek are of adobe,- neat, clean and comfortable. The site and surrounding are as good and fair to look upon as could well be found in the section of country of which the post is, or ought to be, the protector of. Imagine a bunch of whitewashed houses, many of them covered with shingles, in the middle of a valley, surrounded by very rough granite hills, which show and grow but few trees; then a creek, in whose bed and along whose banks cottonwood and willow grow thickly, and expand to goodly proportions. Upon first glancing at the “creek,” a stranger would think it contained no water, but, dig down into the debris which fills its bed, or follow its course to some point where bedrock comes to the surface, and it will be seen that Date Creek does contain water. The post was located in this valley mainly with the object in view of rendering protection to mails, trains and travelers, in which, however, it has not distinguished itself, for various reasons. It may, however, have, done some good. It might have done a great deal more good. Near it are mines of gold, silver and copper, none of which, however, are now being worked. The stage with Captain 3.P. Hargrave, Mr. Bunken, John L. Taylor, T. Gleason, Miss Dunn, Gertrude, the woman—slayer, and poor unfortunate Adams, who soon after, met an untimely fate, at the hands of Camp Date Creek Indians, having passed on, ourself and traveling companion retired for the night, and soon after having breakfasted next morning (Sunday), had the “pleasure” of witnessing Lieutenant Ebstein and two assistants issue corn and beef to a lot of Indians, which issue was squarely made. Most all the Indians seen by us wore Apache-Yuma moccasins. Men, women and children appeared pleased, and we turned away filled with hope that at last our red brethren to the westward of Prescott had made up their minds to be “good.” How badly we were fooled is known to every person who has heard of the “Wickenburg Massacre,” by Indians of the Apache-Yuma and Apache-Mohave bands; perhaps Indians, who, with smiling countenances, had, on that pleasant, peaceful Sabbath morning, taken bread and meat purchased with funds supplied by the white people! Oh!, faithless, cruel red men, what demon, or demons, is it, that incites you to murder, rob and torture your fellow—creatures, when, were you to do otherwise, peace, plenty, and protection from all harm would, most certainly, be yours! But, perhaps, it is ordained of God, that the mission for which your race was sent on Earth for, is almost accomplished, and that, after its final accomplishment, there will be no longer any need for your “services.” So be it, say we. Off for Wickenburg: It was 10 o’clock in the forenoon when Major The Arizona Miner- Continued. Veil got through with his business at the post, and, after having bade goodbye to friends, we again took the road, passing on the way down the creek, other “landmarks” where the Indian guests just left behind; or others of their tribe, had lain behind rocks and brush, and from such safe retreats, shot down unwary white men. Only two ranches— those of S.T. Cullumber and Wm. Gilson— were seen by us, yet there is enough good bottom land for several other rancheros.