The History of Lone Wolf Colony

I enjoy hearing the stories about places from people that have absolutely no idea about what the story of that place is. For example; West of Dead Man’s Point a mile or so, on Bear Valley Road,  there is a quiet little place with the sign out front that says “Lone Wolf Health  Colony.”  years and years I would ask folks about the place and for years and years I was told it was a “nudist camp.” It is not. I am a little bit disappointed. …

Lone Wolf Colony, Apple Valley, CA.

Not a nudist camp!

Following his a brief history of the Lone Wolf Colony originally written in 1966 by Paul and Sylvia Hopping.

Many years ago, in June 1922,  a Mr. Sam Caldwell and a few other employees of the old Home Telephone Company,  including Eddy Schock and a Mr. Crowfoot, realizing the beneficial health factors of the desert, started a movement to help World War I male employee veterans who were suffering from poison gas and the veterans who were unable to obtain the hospitalization and other care they required. Mr. Caldwell at that time owned 160 acres of land at Dry Lake flats, in back of Mt. Baldy. He donated this land for a health resort on condition that he should be one of the patients. It was Mr. Caldwell who gave the health resort its name of Lone Wolf Colony. He passed away in 1934.

Original first cabin built in 1923

The first small building was begun in March, 1923. Carpenters donated their time to assemble the materials which are brought to the desert in April. The health resort operated only 30 days on Mr. Caldwell’s property when it was found that the water supply was inadequate. The colony then move to a spot 5 miles west of Victorville. The colony at that time had two cottages  and five tent houses. A water shortage again developed and at the end of the third year the colony moved to a site on Bear Valley Road near the railroad. It was there only a short time  when it moved to its present 20 acre site on February 22, 1926.

A well drilled on this property and abundant water was found. The telephone company provided trucks and equipment and 250  employees donated their time. And one day the buildings, cabins, fences, pump for reservoir, pole line for electricity and telephone were installed, which was considered a very fine undertaking.

Lone Wolf Colony

Duplex buildings built in 1950

Funds to build the health ranch, which was incorporated February 7, 1924, were raised through various channels and company support. At the end of the 18th year the colony had in use and administration building and 10 small cabins. In 1950 there were five modern duplex concrete cabins. In 1958 a very large, fine, modern administration building, including a large lounge, dining room, stainless steel equipped kitchen and caretakers living quarters was completed in the colony had its first Thanksgiving dinner in the new building of that year.

Administration building built in 1958

Chickens and cattle are raised on the grounds that the Colony which provide meat for the guests. With abundant water, alfalfa is also raised which feeds the cattle and helps to hold down the dust and provide a green ground cover. The Ranch contains all types of farm equipment and tools.  Water is piped to all corners of the property and there are restrooms and bathhouses at the camping area.  Work parties are organized to help with the work around the Colony.

Boy Scout troops are welcome to use the south end of the property for camp outs but the colony superintendent must be contacted to set the date and time for such event. At least one scoutmaster of each troop must be a telephone man.

Telephone museum

The present colony is located on a 20 acre site about halfway between Central Road and Dead Man’s point on Bear Valley Road, in section 2 in Apple Valley. It is owned by the male employees of the Pacific Telephone and Telegraph Company.

The facility is open to male employees both presently employed and retired. There is no charge to employees of Pacific Telephone Company and Western Electric Company, Southern Area (West Coast Division), as the Colony is operated on contributions. All applicants, both active or retired, must make application and have a doctor’s recommendation before they can be admitted to the Colony. They are allowed to stay as long as the doctors think the desert climate is aiding their health. At this time there are average of six employees per day recuperating under the care of the genial host and hostess, Virgil and Goldie Long.

In 1963, air-conditioning and wall-to-wall carpeting were put in all the cabinets. At present plans are being worked on for a recreation  hall, heated pool for therapy  and an enclosed solarium.

Enjoying an evening of sitting in a chair.

Many of the old-timers are no longer here today the sum of the early founders were  Eddy Schock, who helped Mr. Caldwell with the building of the original colony, Charles Rogers, who helped move the buildings  and cottages from the first place  and Mr. Crowfoot, now in his 90s, who is now living in Lancaster with his daughter. Mr. Schock  is an active member of the Board of Directors of Lone Wolf Colony.   Truly the desert is helpful and beneficial as is quoted from the Lone Wolf Colony bylaws as follows: “Where the curative power of the sun’s rays and the climatic  condition are unsurpassed for the improvement of general health.”

The end.

The Mojave Historical Society expresses appreciation to Mr.  Eddy Schock, the Board of Directors of Lone Wolf Colony and to Mr. and Mrs. Virgil Long further help in obtaining this history of Lone Wolf Colony.

from:
The History of Lone Wolf Colony – by Paul and Sylvia Hopping
Mohahve III – Scrapbooks of History (c)1966, 2016
Mohahve Historical Society

The Hardy Pioneer

by Jean Goldbranson – 1967

As you whiz down the freeway in a well protected automobile, have you ever wondered what life was like in the good old days as the hardy pioneer planned the trip 50 miles into the desert with wagon and a team of horses?

Excerpts from ‘Water Supply Paper Number 224’  published in 1909 by the US Department of Interior states, “A party leaving a supply station to go 100 miles or more into an uninhabited part of the desert must take along everything needed, even to the most minute detail.”

Cowpokes eating a hearty breakfast on the trail.

” This means if the trip is to last for two weeks enough hay and grain for each animal and enough  provisions to last each man that length of time must be taken.

” For four horses, drawing a wagon that carries for persons and their bedding, provisions, and tools, another team of four horses must also be taken to all sufficient hay and grain to feed the eight horses for two weeks.

”  There are but few places in the desert, away from the railroads, where grain or hay of any kind can be procured. As the teams are rarely able to travel faster than a walk, heavy horses that are good walkers should be selected. The tires should be as wide as can be procured. Desirable widths of tires for freight wagons are 6 to 9 inches; for light wagons 3 inches.”

The average Victor Valley pioneer took a week every six months to travel by horse and wagon to San Bernardino, to do his shopping and come back home.  Leaving the desert and spending the first night in Cajon Pass at one of the campsites close to the junction of State Highway 138 or Interstate Highway 15 further on down  at Cozy Dell Campgrounds. it was another day’s journey to San Bernardino, and after doing shopping and visiting for a couple of days, it was a two-day journey back to the desert Homestead. Now with our sleek automobiles, we whisk down to San Bernardino and 45 minutes, sometimes grumbling because it takes so long.

Cozy Dell, Cajon Pass – 1938

Drinking java from an old tin can was a way of life and not a song in the past century.  Living in the open and eating cowboy beans were part of traveling through the desert before the advent of the  auto.  The trails of yesterday became our freeways of today. Our present freeway route from Victorville to Barstow parallels the one the freighters to quit their mule trains to sell supplies to the minors and Calico in the 1880s. Instead of having a well-built bridge to span the Mojave as we do today, they forded the river even when it was high.

from:
Mohahve IV – Scrapbooks of History (c)1984, 2016
Mohahve Historical Society

Cedar Springs – August 1964

A field trip report by Gladys Steorts

Bridge at Deep Creek

The day was hot. There were only five of us who showed up for the trip. We met at Carl Cambridge’s Museum on Bear Valley Road in Apple Valley in about 9:30 AM and left via Deep Creek Road to Rock Springs Road and across the river to Lake Arrowhead Road and then via Summit Valley Road to Miller Canyon and Lake Gregory Road to Cedar Springs.

Because of the heat, this was to be more of the picnic been a field trip. We had chosen Cedar Springs because of its location in the big binds and the stream which ran nearby the campground. The site is located on the East Fork of the West Fork of the Mojave River in T2N, R3W, Sec. 6,  San Bernardino County.

Cedar Springs Campground - Lake Silverwood

Cedar Springs Campground

When we arrived, we found the stream bed entirely dry, and the picnic table which we chose was sitting in the middle of the dry wash. while we enjoyed our picnic lunch, the Martins talk to the early days when they brought their children and grandchildren and camp by this dream which was at that time a swift moving and cool, sparkling little creek. We then tried to imagine what it would be like in a few years when the entire area will be underwater. Already, many of the homes had been removed in preparation for the time when the dam will be billed at the forks of the river, to hold back the waters of the Feather River when they are delivered to the Southland to water the thirsty reservoirs at the Mojave River Valley and the great metropolitan area.

 

The tree that grew into a rock. Cedar Springs - 1964

The tree that grew into a rock. 1964.

As we sat and talked, we began to look around, and we realize that the well-known landmarks would soon disappear. Nearby, was a huge old pine tree with roots in twined around a very large boulder which had once been at the stream’s edge. Close by was a beautiful old sycamore with a satellite branch, just right for small and not so small boys  to  climb.  downstream was a grand old tree that guarded the  dry stream bed and looked as if it had been watching over the course of the stream for many years.  We took some pictures and left.

Our road led us through Summit Valley to a road which took us  up to Cleghorn Canyon in search of a way to reach a monument which was said to be located at a point where Fr. Francisco Garces (1776)   and Jedediah Smith (1826)  had crossed over from the desert to the San Bernardino Valley.

Silverwood Lake

Cedar Springs today sits under Lake Silverwood SRA.

We failed to locate a way to reach the monument, but we did find a vast area that had been almost denuded by a destructive forest fire which had swept the area only a few weeks earlier. in the midst of this, we also observed a “guzzler”  which still contained water,  and the ground around was covered with thousands of little tracks which was evidence of the birds and small animals that had somehow  survived the ravages of the flames. Joel Martin mentioned that he had, at one time, worked on a project to help install these guzzlers which were designed to help preserve the wildlife of the county and state.

As we return down the canyon to the Summit Valley Rd., Carl Cambridge suddenly called a stop, and there beside the road, where the road had crossed a dry wash, lay a large metate.  There was also the ruins of an old cabin and signs of placer mining, which told a silent story of a culture and a generation earlier than ours.

Bridge at fork to Cedar Springs

We retraced our road to where the Summit Valley Road and the road to Cedar Springs meet, to make a survey of his site of an old Indian camp which Carl had told us had been discovered there several years ago, but all that we found were a few fire stones and the dark and soil, evidence that the Indians had once been there.

Although no great historical facts were uncovered, the day proved to be very interesting, and in time it may be looked back upon as being of historic interest because of what was but is no longer.

As we thought about the things that were taking place in the area, we realize that, just as the last remnants of other eras were disappearing, the day would soon come when the landmarks that are so familiar in the area today will soon be gone. So we took more pictures for remembrance.

from:
A Field Trip Report by Gladys Steorts
Mohahve III – Scrapbooks of History (c)1966
Mohahve Historical Society

The Raven

~ The Raven – Edgar Allen Poe – 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
” ‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

“Nevermore”

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
” ‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you.” Here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
“Lenore!” Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
“Surely,” said I, “surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
” ‘Tis the wind, and nothing more.”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore.”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, “Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,—
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never—nevermore.”

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore!”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted–
On this home by horror haunted–tell me truly, I implore:
Is there–is there balm in Gilead?–tell me–tell me I implore!”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil–prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us–by that God we both adore–
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting–
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

 

Death Valley Scotty Special

Death Valley Scotty Special

In 1905, in an attempt to break the speed record from Los Angeles to Chicago, Walter “Death Valley Scotty” Scott paid the Santa Fe Railroad a purported $5500 to rent a three car train pulled by 19 different steam locomotives. The trip began in Los Angeles on 9 July and arrived in Chicago 44 hours 54 minutes later, a record that stood until 1936  when it was broken by the Super Chief.  The  Barstow to Needles segment of the run took just three hours and 15 minutes. Also known as the Coyote Special.

from:
Mojave Desert Dictionary – Patricia A. Schoffstall
Mojave River Valley Museum
 Barstow, California

The Origin of People

One day, Coyote went out to hunt rabbits. While he was hunting, he saw a large naked woman in the distance. This excited him. He said to himself, “Whew, I have never seen a woman like that. I will follow her.” He followed her for a long time, but could not quite overtake her. He followed her over many mountains. When he came to White Mountain [Fish Lake Valley], he was very thirsty. He saw that the woman was carrying a tiny basketry water jug, and he asked her for a drink. She gave him the little jug, and he drank and drank, but still there was water left in it. Then she walked on, and he followed her.

photo of coyote
Finally, they came to a large lake of water. The woman said, “My home is over there.” She crossed the lake on top of the water. Coyote said, “I cannot do that. I will walk around.” The woman turned and gave Coyote the legs of a water bug [skate?] that runs on the top of the water. Coyote followed her over to her house.

The woman lived in a house with her mother, who was called tsutsipü, “ocean,” maa’puts, “old woman.” She was like Eva, the first Woman. Eva had never seen a man before. In the morning, Eva got up very early and began to weave a fine, big water jug. Coyote stayed with the women for several days.

One day Coyote went hunting for deer. He wondered what was the matter [with the women] . . . He asked his stomach, his ears, his nose, and his foot what was the matter. None of them could tell him. Then a white hair on the end of his tail said, “You are just like a little boy. Take a neck bone . . . and use that.”

Coyote did this . . .

Coyote went out to hunt. The old woman had nearly finished her big water jug. The two women told each other that they were pregnant. When the jug was finished, they gave birth to many tiny babies, all like little dolls, and put them in the jug.

When Coyote returned, they said to him, “Maybe your brother, Wolf, is lonesome for you. We want you to go back home.” Coyote said, “All right, I will go.” Eva then said to the children, “You have no home here. You must go with Coyote.” She put the basket of children on Coyote’s back, and told him to carry it with him. It was very heavy, but Coyote said that he had carried deer down from the mountains on his back, so that he was strong and did not object.

The women instructed Coyote about the jug. They said, “When you come to Saline Valley, open the stopper just a little way, then replace it quickly. When you come to Death Valley, open it a little more. At Tin Mountain (Charleston Peak) open it half way. When you are in Moapa, take the stopper out all the way.” Coyote said he would do this.

Coyote carried the jug along, but soon became very tired and could scarcely hold it. When he arrived in Saline Valley, he opened the stopper a little way. Tall, dark, handsome men and girls jumped out and ran away. These were the best looking people in the jug. This frightened Coyote, but he put the stopper back, and picked up the jug. In Death Valley, he opened it again. Here, more handsome people jumped out and ran away. The girls all had long, beautiful hair. When he came to Ash Meadows, he opened it. The Paiute and Shoshoni came out. These people were fine looking, too. At Tin Mountain, Coyote let some fairly good people out of the jug. When he opened it in Moapa, very poor, short, ugly people came out. The girls here had short hair with lice in it. All the people had sore eyes. That is the way they are now.

This is the way Eva had her first children. Coyote was the father.

from:
Western Shoshoni Myths
By Julian H. Steward

Ghost Train: Tall Tale

Bill Sanger was known to have ridden the rods all over the map. In his time he had seen all there was to see. One day he was talking with Jim Craig about  mirages. Mirages are common sites. You see a lot of them, millions of them, in the dry lake bed out there at Amboy.

Bristol Lake - Amboy, CA.

Bristol Lake – Amboy, CA.

“Bill,”  said Jim, “did you ever see the city that  gleams out there on  the lake in hot weather?”
“Yeah,”  Bill replied.
“What you make of it?”  said Jim.
Nothing,”  Bill answered.  “I do not hold with those dude scientists, that try to explain goes by saying the light rays pick up the picture hundreds of miles away and then bend it back and drop that same picture out there on the lake.  It do not make sense. They’re ghosts, that is what they are. Just plain ghosts.
“One time,” Bill went on, “I nearly killed myself trying to hop a ghost train pulling out across Bristol Lake. I was walking out toward the salt works when  along came a freight, not going very fast. I forgot where I was, and made a run for it.  it started to pick up speed, so I gave a leap and grabbed on– nothing!
“I sprawled out flat on that dry lake bed. I looked up and saw the ghost train running in long as nice as you please– 42 cars and one caboose I counted.  they road right smack over me and never even must my shirt. They are ghosts I tell you. Ghosts!”

from :
Pioneer tales of San Bernardino County
WPA Writers Program – 1940

A Running Battle: Death at Soda Lake Station

Death and disaster  stalked  the trade routes to the Mojave Desert during the 1860s. Roving bands of plunder-bent Indians lay in wait among rocky canyon walls and in undergrowth near waterholes, eager to kill, rob or drive away any who dared to invade the desert home of the red man.

During this turbulent period, The United States Army afforded the sole means of protection to the lives and property of early settlers. That this protection was far from adequate is apparent from the following account.

Sam button, driver from the Cluggage Line, drove the stage coach along the old road between Caves Canyon and Soda Lake. The Army escort, one man on a mule, wrote alongside the leisurely traveling stage.  Dr. M. E. Shaw, Army post surgeon, stuck his head out the coach window and carried on an idle conversation with the escort.

Hancock’s Redoubt – Soda Lake

This peaceful scene was disturbed without warning when the brush at the side of the road parted in a dozen spots and screaming, brandishing Pah-Utes  burst forth. Shots crashed out. The Army escorts mule quivered with the Bali and dropped to the sand, dead. Lead splattered against the walls of the stage as the Army man jumped inside.

Sam Button  poured shots into the savages as fast as he could reload his weapon. The horses, maddened by the excitement, broke into a run, Dr. Shaw and the soldier, guns leveled through this stage window, picked off as many Indians as the lurching vehicle would permit.

In full pursuit, the Indians, about 15 in number, concentrated on shooting the huddled driver out of his box. They aim high, anxious to spare the horses if possible. Dr. Shaw lifted his face from the hot barrel of his gun and a half-turned to his army companion.

“We are in luck, those Indians are damned poor shots,”  he said, and slumped forward, a bullet through his chest.

Bighorn sheep at Soda Lake in Mojave Preserve

Bighorn sheep at Soda Lake in Mojave Preserve

“Dr. Shaw’s been hit!”  The soldier shouted at Button.
“Dead?”
“No, but he needs attention in a hurry.”

The frightened horses began to tire. The Indians maintained their hot pursuit. Button leaned back across the baggage that shielded him from the Pah-Utes fire.   With one quick stroke of his knife, he cut free the luggage that burdened the stage. For an hour the running battle continued before the stage outran the Indians.

Dr. Shaw died at Soda Lake Station.

from :
Pioneer tales of San Bernardino County
WPA Writers Program – 1940

$150,000 Summit Road Route Being Considered

Summit Valley Road

Summit Valley Road

State Highway Commissioner Darlington has under advisement the matter of which route to choose for the 15-mile state highway to be built from Summit to Victorville at a cost of $150,000.  A delegation headed by Louis Evans of Hesperia asked Darlington to choose the route that would include Hesperia on the highway.

Los Angeles Herald, Number 58, 8 January 1919

Mining Partners in a Deadly Quarrel

William Farley Kills Matt Price on the Desert Near Dale City, San Bernardino.

San Francisco Call - February 24, 1898

San Francisco Call – February 24, 1898

SANTA FE DEPOT, San Bernardino, Feb. 23. — The second murder on the desert within two weeks was committed yesterday morning about ten miles north of Dale City, this county, by William Farley. His victim was Matt Price, who is said to have been a partner of Farley in some mining property.

Only meager reports have been received and as the scene of the murder is in such a remote and almost inaccessible spot, being seventy miles from the railroad, it will be some time before the full particulars of the affair will be known. Parties who knew the men are inclined to believe that the murder was the result of a quarrel over a mining claim.

Farley has been placed under arrest and Coroner Keating, Deputy Sheriff McElvan. Assistant District Attorney Rolfe and I Benjamin, a stenographer, left for Dale City tin’s morning to hold an inquest. A. E. Reitz, who came in from Dale City yesterday, leaving there early in the morning, says that when he left the camp all was peaceable and that the principals in the affair seemed to be on good terms.