Sometimes the Amerinds destroyed the track, captured trains, killed engineers, firemen, brakemen, and telegraph linemen. They also would destroy the telegraph line and carry off the wire. In fact, they were a constant terror and menace. But when denouncing them nobody remembers the swindles perpetrated on them in former years, nor the bad whiskey which impoverished them and brutalised them and won their furs for a bagatelle. Their attitude was largely the result of the earlier treatment they had received from the whites, as well as of all the bad white blood which had been infused into the tribes. One of the worst affairs was the Plum Creek massacre. William Thompson, an Englishman, a telegraph man, was sent out with a party of five to hunt up a break. They started about nine o'clock one evening and when they reached the place a pile of ties was discovered on the track for the purpose of wrecking a supply train nearly due. Barely had this discovery been made when Thompson and his men were attacked by the enemy. They fired back and then ran. One of the natives on a horse pursued Thompson, shot him through the arm, and then knocked him down with a clubbed rifle. Next he stabbed him in the neck to finish him, and immediately began the operation of removing Thompson's scalp. As Thompson was far from dead the prospect was not agreeable, but a movement would have brought death. His only chance was to keep quiet and let the work go on, and he was able to do this notwithstanding the pain. But when the scalp was jerked loose he thought his whole head was off, and then felt as if a red-hot iron had been passed over his crown. [Illustration: Snow Sheds in the Sierra. Photograph by C. R. Savage.] The native tucked the scalp in his belt and mounting rode hastily away, but in doing so dropped the scalp and its owner picked it up. Thompson was obliged to remain quiet while the band piled more ties on the track. Presently he heard the distant rumble of the train. It was impossible to do anything to prevent the wreck. In a few moments the cars were piled in a heap. The engineer and fireman were shot and scalped; the train was ransacked by the light of a huge fire. A barrel of whiskey was opened and all got drunk. When daybreak came they set the whole wreck on fire and gleefully danced around it. When they were finally gone from the scene Thompson crawled away and at length reached Willow Island station, where a rescuing party found him. People came from all around to see his ghastly baldness. He was taken to a hotel where a doctor dressed his wound. "In a pail of water was his scalp, about nine inches in length and four in width, somewhat resembling a drowned rat as it floated curled up on the water." Such were the incidents due to the wild tribes which constantly harassed the builders of this iron trail. [Illustration: Adobe Ruins of Green River—Union Pacific Terminus. Photograph, 1871, by E. O. Beaman, U. S. Colo. Riv. Exp.]