Eph Hanks

	Pioneer Scout

	A Thesis
	Presented to the
	Department of Church History and Doctrine
	Brigham Young University

	In Partial Fulfillment
	of the Requirements for the Degree
	Master of Arts

	by 
	Richard K. Hanks
	April 1973

	Call No.
	BL
	19.02
	.H365
	1973

	Table of Contents

Chapter 1
INTRODUCTION	  3

Chapter 2
BREAKING THE MOLD	  7

Chapter 3
BRIGHAM, BATTALION AND A BURRO	 15

Chapter 4
MOUNTAINEER MAILMAN	 20

Chapter 5
PROPHET IN THE WILDERNESS	 31

Chapter 6
HE SPOKE THEIR LANGUAGE	 42

Chapter 7
HANDCARTS AND THE UTAH WAR	 49

Chapter 8
"EPH, THE NEFARIOUS VILLAIN"	 65

Chapter 9
FRUIT TREES AND AN OFFERING	 69

Chapter 10
EPH REVISITED	 74

BIBLIOGRAPHY	 77

	Chapter 1
	
	INTRODUCTION

	In the rugged wilderness of southern Utah, among the slashed valleys and barren red hills that turn to fire with the setting sun, a single shaft of sandstone stands piercing the empty sky like a finger probing the heavens. In spring a few desert flowers grow around its base. In summer the red dust simmers in the air. During the day the dark mouths of deserted Indian caves stare hauntingly out at the endless vista of sagebrush, and the silence of the night is broken by the scream of a mountain lion.
	This pinnacle, standing firm and alone in the bold emptiness of its surroundings, is more than an impressive product of nature; it is a monument, a monument to a man whose life, like that of the pinnacle, seemed destined to stand alone with nature in all her savage beauty. This man was Ephraim (Eph) K. Hanks, pioneer scout and Brigham Young's trusted emissary. He was a man loved and revered by his many friends for his warmth of character and generous understanding; a man feared as an alleged "desperado" and "vile villain" by anti-Mormons who knew of his mountaineer exploits and disparagingly linked him with notable contemporaries, Porter Rockwell and Bill Hickman.
	Eph Hanks was a frontiersman, the product of a rugged environment whose courageous feats and daring escapades equaled, if not surpassed, his reputation. He was a man seemingly void of fear, surprisingly self-sufficient, and disarmingly generous. These characteristics, coupled with an unpretentious faith in God, engendered a mingling of attributes which produced a rare individual who portrayed his unwavering devotion to his God and church through deeds of lifesaving heroism and near superhuman courage. His capacity for physical accomplishment was remarkable. His deeds of skill and endurance at times may seen incredulous to the reader.
	From the day Eph ran away from his Ohio home at the age of sixteen until the day of his death, June 9, 1896, his life was one continuous adventure, conspicuously interlaced with Utah history and events of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His name is recorded among the thousands who, in the winter of 1846, were exiled from their Illinois home due in part to their peculiar religious beliefs, to begin an unprecedented migration westward. He was among those five hundred able-bodied men, who in that same year enlisted in the Mormon Battalion in response to a call from President Polk for Mormon volunteers. Their subsequent march to California to insure possession rights for the United States during the Mexican War was one of the longest forced marches in military history.
	Following his discharge from the army Eph took to pioneering the U. S. mail between Salt Lake City and the Missouri River. In this vocation he excelled, and in seven years he made the twelve hundred mile journey over the plains and mountains more than fifty times, pitting his skill and endurance against nature's forces and hostile Indians. It was during these trips Eph came to know the Plains Indians intimately, learning to speak their dialects and successfully healing their sick. These friendships not only assured his own safety while traveling the plains but the safety of other travelers as well. From 1856 to 1863, he devoted most of his time visiting hostile tribes of the plains in the interest of Mormon emigration. In later years, when living in southern Utah, Eph and his sons administered to and reportedly healed a group of thirty sick Indians who had come to him for help. But there was also less agreeable meetings with the Indians. During the winter of 1850, Eph, along with one hundred comrades, fought renegade Indians on the banks of the Provo River. He was one of the touted "fifteen invincibles" who captured the stronghold of the redmen on that occasion, and the following summer found him riding hard against marauding Goshutes in Tooele County's Skull Valley battle. His work among the Indians, however, was for the most part constructive, as was recorded by Solomon F. Kimball:

	He was certainly an instrument in the hand of the Lord in helping to make it possible for the thousands of emigrants who came to Utah in those days to dwell in peace in these valleys of the mountains. The Indians of the plains learned to love and respect him; and in later years he wielded an influence among them that was nothing short of marvelous. There was not a man in the Church who had more influence with them than he.

	During the severe winter of 1856, when members of the Salt Lake bound Martin Handcart Company lay starving and helpless on Wyoming's Sweetwater, Eph Hanks received a call from Brigham Young to locate the long, overdue company of six hundred emigrants. Leaving Salt Lake City days ahead of the relief wagons, Eph, mounted on horseback and leading a pack animal, fought his way in blizzard conditions to the dying Martin Company. Most of the two buffalo he carried into camp was snatched from the packsaddles and devoured raw by the starving pioneers before it could be distributed. He then remained with the company as guide and doctor until they reached the Salt Lake Valley.
	From the diary of Josiah Rogerson, Sr., a member of the Martin Handcart Company, we read the following tribute to the participants in this rescue:

	Before closing I wish to mention the names of the heroes and hardy pioneers that were instrumental in saving one or two hundred of our lives and whose record for self-sacrifice and courage is almost incomparable.
	At the head of the list stands the late General R. T. Burton, George D. Grant, Jr., then William H. Kimball, eldest son of the late Heber C. Kimball, and his younger brother, David P. Kimball; then the brave and generous Ephraim Hanks, who deserves the second place, if not the first place, in the list.

	In the year 1857 when Johnston's army, under order from President Buchanan, attempted a forced entrance into the Salt Lake Valley to install new federal officers in the rebellious "Mormon Colony," Eph Hanks was on hand to help enforce the peaceful resistance orders of Brigham Young. Solomon F. Kimball writes:

	Perhaps no military man connected with the "Mormon" Church played a more prominent part in the so-called Echo Canyon War, during the winter of 1857-58, than did Elder Ephraim K. Hanks. So daring was he in some of his exploits that the bravest men in his company were not anxious to follow him on his reconnoitering expeditions. One dark night he crawled so near to the army officers' tent that the cook unwittingly threw scraps from the General's table over him. Nothing went on around the Officers' Headquarters that he was not familiar with; consequently, he kept General Wells posted on every important movement made by Johnston's Army.

	Farming in the Salt Lake Valley had little appeal to Eph during his early life, hence one spring morning in 1870 he left his plow in the furrow and set his face towards the hills. A Utah newspaper in the same year records:

	Eph Hanks was no longer a farmer; he was a prospector. He walked over into what is now Park City mining district and chipped a few chunks of rock of an outcropping. Eph Hanks organized a company. The claim was called The Green Monster.
	At any rate, Eph Hanks was the father of Park City. The success of The Green Monster was noised abroad and location followed location in rapid order.
	
	Immense riches hovered near Eph in his newfound role of prospector and mine owner, but a call from Brigham Young to purchase and settle Lee's Ferry on the Colorado River banished all dreams of ore and riches he might have had. Preparations were made to move his family to Lee's Ferry, but the plans were interrupted by the death of Brigham Young in 1877. Having already sold his home and mine, he moved to Burrville, Wayne County, Utah, at the advice of President John Taylor. He later established a homestead a number of miles east of Burrville in a box canyon on a small tributary of the Fremont River called Pleasant Creek. Here he built a comfortable home, planted several hundred fruit trees, and lived the last adventure of his life--that of settler and colonizer. He passed away June 9, 1896, at the age of seventy.

	Chapter 2

	BREAKING THE MOLD

	Ephraim Knowlton Hanks was born March 21, 1826, the sixth child of a family of twelve belonging to Benjamin and Martha Hanks of Madison, Lake County, Ohio. His early life was devoted to working on the farm and assisting in his father's roadside blacksmith shop. Eph was an observant lade and learned much from his industrious father. At the age of twelve he could fit shoes on horses and oxen, make trap springs, and do most of the things his father did. His early aptitude for the profession earned him a neighborhood reputation and nickname, "The Young Blacksmith."
	Young Eph displayed an active and original nature. When his duties did not require his services in the blacksmith shop, he was hunting the squirrel filled woods with the family dog, Ring. Even though Eph occasionally neglected his farm chores to tramp the woods with his rifle, he was seldom reprimanded, for more often than not, he returned home with a generous supply of squirrel meat for the family table.
	On a Saturday following Eph's sixteenth (16th) birthday, his father instructed him to harness up the favorite mare to the new buggy and drive into nearby River Ridge to make a collection from a customer. As this was the first time he had been entrusted with the family rig, he proceeded cautiously into town after being reminded of his new trust. After completing his errand, he headed the mare toward home and she needed little coaxing in that direction. At first young Eph tried to hold the spirited animal back, but then his boyish enthusiasm overshadowed any thoughts of a father's anger and he sent the buggy racing over the narrow dirt road at a dangerous pace. Also Eph could not resist impressing a friend who lived a considerable distance out of the way with his new outfit; and by the time he arrived home that evening, the hard driven mare was white with lather.
	Father Hanks was furious the next morning when he found the mare covered with dried mud and sweat and had it not been Sunday Eph would have been handled on the spot. Only the Puritan faith of his father, prohibiting punishment on the Sabbath, saved him. But there was little question in his mind that Monday morning would bring a sure reckoning from an enraged father.
	As Eph sat staring at the sparks dancing from the birch logs in the fireplace that Sunday morning waiting for the family to return from church, he reflected on the flushed face of his father and the anger in his eyes that morning. He could think of little else but his father's promise and the ensuing beating. The more he thought the more convinced he was as to a course of action. With a sign of despair Eph arose, trudged up the stairs to his room, rolled a few clothes into a bundle, tucked a loaf of bread under his arm, and after a long last look at the homestead, reluctantly started down the road with his pal, Ring, close at his side. His decision to leave home had been made.
	Ironically, the Hanks' had always been a clannish race dating back to Alfred the Great. For hundreds of years members of the family never left their native home in Malmbury, England. A member of the Hanks family, at one time, was shot by other members of the family because he ventured to leave home; and they feared he would "mix the bread."
	However, in 1699, Benjamin and Abigail Hanks broke the family ties and sailed for America landing in Plymouth, Massachusetts. This Benjamin Hanks was the great grandfather of Nancy Hanks, mother of Abraham Lincoln, sixteenth president of the United States, and also the great great great grandfather of Ephraim Knowlton Hanks, the subject of this paper.
	Caroline Hanks Hitchcock, in her book, Nancy Hanks, presents the following brief history of the Hanks family in America:

	From the old records we find the history of the descendants of Benjamin Hanks is interwoven in the annals of New England, where they are known as `a remarkably inventive family' and `a family of founders.' The first bells ever made in America were cast on Hanks Hill in their old New England farm. It was one of the descendants of this Benjamin Hanks who placed in the steeple of the old Dutch Church in New York City, which formerly stood where the post office now is, the first tower clock in America, a unique affair, run by a windmill attachment. The bells and chimes made by this family are now ringing all over the world, on land and sea, one of them being the bell in Philadelphia which replaced the old Liberty Bell, and another being the great Columbian Liberty Bell, which hung in front of the administration building at the World's Fair in Chicago in 1893. This bell weighed thirteen thousand pounds, to represent the thirteen original States, and was made from relics of gold, silver, old coins, and metal sent from all parts of the world.
	Other members of this family have sent the first libraries far away throughout the world to those toilers who `go down to the sea in ships, that do business in the great waters.' They have also erected the first silk mills in American run by waterpower, and made the first cannon carried by the Connecticut artillery into the battles in which many of them gave their lives for their country. For the United States Army and Navy during the Revolution, their inventions in almost every department are unnumerable (sic). Their Sunday School publications and work in the Hebrew language and literature, in connection with the history of the Bible, are well known everywhere. Graduates of almost every university in America, there have been among them noted doctors, lawyers, ministers, and writers. The mineral, "Hanksite," was named after its discoverer, Professor Henry G. Hanks, State Mineralogist of California.

	Suffice it to say that as Eph Hanks hustled along the road in the direction of Lake Erie that pleasant summer day, little did he realize that he was embarking upon a life's adventure, which would add considerably to the Hanks' name and to the history books of the West.
	Eph walked all day and night, and in the forenoon of the following day stopped at a village blacksmith shop. Fatigued and hungry, he asked the smith if he might blow the bellows in return for something to eat. The smithy was making trap springs and much to the merriment of several onlookers had already broken three springs as he bent them to make the final test.
	Eph asked the disgruntled blacksmith if he might try one, and the hecklers insisted the lad be given a chance. Eph put the steel in the fire, as he had done many times before in his father's shop, and then held it for the smithy to shape until it was ready for tempering. Taking some fever powder from his pocket, which his mother insisted her boys carry with them, he mixed it with water in the tempering trough, after which he took the glowing iron from the fire and placed it in the water. Then removing the iron from the trough, Eph carefully placed his foot on the spring and bent it down. When he withdrew his foot, the spring bounded to the ceiling amid the laughter and cheers of the audience.
	The chagrined, but impressed smithy, fed the young runaway and invited him to remain and work at the blacksmith shop. But Eph was too close to home. After hearing the lad's story, the sympathetic smithy suggested he inquire at the Chambers' farm for work, which was further down the road.
	After working for Mr. Chambers several months Eph took a day off and drove into town to watch the Fourth of July celebration and happened to meet an old friend, Bill Reed, who had grown up in the Hanks' home. He bought Eph a sorely needed suit of clothes and after a lengthy talk induced him to give up farming and to work with him on the Erie Canal. Before joining his new partner, Eph bade farewell to the Chambers family, thanking them for their kindness and expressing regret at leaving them so soon. As a parting gesture he left his dog, Ring, with Helen, their blind daughter, who had grown attached to the dog.
	In those days freight was carried through the canal by horse-drawn boats, and Eph's job was to drive the horse along the bank while Bill worked the rudder of the boat. To avoid entanglements, the Canal code specified that the boat traveling downstream slacken its ropes, thus permitting the horses pulling the upstream boat to walk over the lines.
	Because Eph was young and inexperienced, some of the drivers failed to extend this usual courtesy to him. At one such encounter when a driver failed to recognize his rights, Eph stood his ground, thereby upending a downstream horse into the canal. After helping to pull the horse from the water, three ruffians threatened to stretch the boys' necks. During a lively scuffle, when the ruffians succeeded in putting a rope around Bill's neck, Eph sprang forward to his friend's rescue, pinning the head of one of the attackers to the wall with a two-tined pitchfork. Wheeling suddenly around, he speared another in the seat sending him scurrying with Bill, likewise sprang for safety when convinced of Eph's determination. 
	Both Eph and Bill enjoyed the work on the canal and were saddened when winter came and the canal froze. Being out of work, the two traveled to Boston where they signed up for what they thought was a freighting job on the ocean, but turned out to be a three year hitch in the Navy aboard the U.S.S. Columbus. Eph learned to love the sea and the life of a sailor appealed to him. He often commented on how easily he had adapted to it.
	Solomon F. Kimball writes of Eph's enlistment as follows:

	Being of a roaming, restless disposition, Ephraim K. Hanks enlisted in 1842 as sailor on the United States man-of-war Columbus. He served for three years. During that time he visited many interesting parts of the world and gained knowledge of earthly things that proved of great value to him in later years.

	One day aboard ship, Eph was mending his duffle bag when three shipmates looking for some sport approached him. The leader of the trio gave his spool of thread a kick across the deck. When Eph good-naturedly reached for it, another stepped on his hand while the third whisked the cap from his head and sailed it on to the deck where it was used as a spittoon. Angered by this purposeless challenge, Eph grabbed a belaying pin, which he swung to the head of one lad. He then repulsed an attack by the remaining two when he knocked one sprawling down the hatchway and wrestled with the third until the appearance of an orderly on the scene.
	Sharks often followed the ship for days at a time and Eph, who was determined to land one of the big blue killers, wrangled the Captain's permission to try his luck. He used the ship's blacksmith shop to forge a large strong hook to which he tied a rope for a line. Outfitted with an improvised block and tackle and a chunk of pork for bait, Eph, the fisherman, was ready. In a matter of minutes after setting the line, a shark was savagely fighting the homemade hook. With the help of other sailors, Eph succeeded in landing the still thrashing shark on the deck of the ship. The incident caused considerable excitement and provided the crew with some spirited entertainment.
	Another sea experience that almost ended in disaster is related by Kimball:

	On one of his ocean voyages during a heavy storm, he and two of his companions were thrown from the fore-royal yard into the rigging below. One of his mates was instantly killed and the other fell overboard, the big, blue sharks eating the body. Ephraim, who seems to have been born an athlete, grabbed a dangling rope, and amid shouts and cheers form his companions below, slid to the trembling foretop, where he calmly waited for further orders. This marvelous escape from death made him the hero of the crew, and from that time on Eph enjoyed the best that the ship could afford.

	With his three years' enlistment nearly up, Eph was undecided about re-enlisting. While the U.S.S. Columbus was docked in New York, a visit from a stranger influenced his decision. Eph relates that a man approached him as he and a number of others were working the pumps on the ship's deck. He talked with Eph only a short time, but succeeded in influencing him to quit the sea and return home.
	Eph invited the stranger to go ashore with him, but he declined saying he would remain and watch his trunk until he returned. After purchasing a few souvenirs for his family, he returned to the ship to pick up his belongings just as she was ready to sail. From the dock, Eph and his friends contended they saw the stranger sitting on the trunk just as they had left him earlier, but when they reached the trunk the stranger had disappeared.
	A description of Eph during this period of life is given by Kimball:

	Ephraim, who was now in his twentieth year, developed into as strong a specimen of manhood as could be found in that section of the country. He was qualified for the work that Providence had marked out for him. Being of a spiritual-minded nature, he possessed really at this early period in his life the gift of prophecy to a considerable extent, though at that time he little understood such a gift. He as certainly a man who was destined to perform a work which in later years caused even the savages of the plains to consider him with wonder and amazement.

	Eph pocketed his honorable discharge and immediately set out for his Ohio home he had not seen in four years. He was stunned, however, to learn of his father's death two and a half years before. During his maturing years at sea, he had come to fully appreciate his father and had anticipated the reunion. His grief deepened upon learning his concerned father had willed him one dollar with instructions to buy a New Testament and read it.
	Eph also learned that his older brother, Sidney, had been taken captive by the Mormons and was being held under a spell in Nauvoo, Illinois. Infuriated, Eph determined to visit the Nauvoo stronghold and redeem poor Sidney from his Mormon tormentors.
	Before rescuing Sidney, however, Eph had another visit to make. With his dog, Ring, who had been waiting for him at home, he headed down the same road he had traveled four years earlier when escaping a wrathful father. His arrival at the Chambers' farm where he had worked as a runaway, prompted a happy reunion. After instructing Helen how to keep Ring from running away a second time, Eph entertained the Chambers family with stories of the sea. Mr. Chambers, who was now, well along in years, offered his farm to Eph if he would stay and take care of his blind daughter. At the moment, however, Eph could think of little else but his brother, Sidney, and the Mormons. Politely refusing the generous offer, he returned home and made preparations to start for Nauvoo.
	After traveling for a day and a half on the road to Illinois, Eph arrived at a fork in the road. Starting down the right fork he was nearly overwhelmed, for no apparent reason, by a stream of tears, flowing from his eyes. Bewildered and annoyed, he retraced his steps and proceeded down the alternate fork of the road only to experience the same phenomenon. Finding himself unable to explain this sudden burst of emotion, he returned to a nearby grove of sycamore trees prayed for the first time in years. Impressed not to continue on his journey but to return to his family, Eph reversed his course toward home. Upon reaching the house, there was Sidney, who had arrived home shortly after Eph's departure two days before. Kimball describes the circumstance of the meeting:

	Shortly after the [Ephraim] returned home, his brother, Sidney, who was living at Nauvoo, Illinois, had a dream that made such a firm impression upon his mind as to cause him to return to his mother's home to learn its meaning if possible. Once there the interpretation was made plain to him as he beheld his long, absent seafaring brother, Ephraim.

	Sidney enthusiastically related the Mormon story to his mother and seafaring brother. He bore a strong testimony of Joseph Smith's calling and testified how he had been healed through the administration of the Mormon priesthood.
	Such discussions aroused Mother Hanks, however, who in defense of the family faith promptly invited the most able sectarian ministers in the neighborhood to contest Sidney's beliefs. The ministers soon arrived and an earnest if not heated discussion ensued. When the ministers became abusive, calling Joseph Smith and his follower’s uncomplimentary names, Eph, who up to this time had been a silent listener, grabbed a chair and pointing to the door demanded the ministers to leave. They departed so quickly that one of them left his silk hat behind.	
	The next morning the two brothers found much to talk about as they sat on the woodpile in back of the house. Sidney spoke more of his dream and of Joseph Smith and the Mormons. Eph listened attentively. Sidney's sincerity was convincing and Eph found himself believing the incredible story Sidney had to tell. He was so impressed he agreed to cast his lot with Sidney and travel with him to Nauvoo for a firsthand look at the Mormon capital.
	As Mother Hanks had made it plain that her two misguided sons were no longer welcome at home, the pair reluctantly bade the homestead goodbye and struck out for Nauvoo.

	Chapter 3

	BRIGHAM, BATTALION AND A BURRO

	Arriving in Nauvoo during the summer of 1845, Eph was impressed with the beauty of the city and hospitality of the people. Within days of meeting the Mormon leaders he sought affiliation with the Church and was soon baptized by Horace S. Eldredge. After being ordained a Seventy, he commenced work on the Nauvoo Temple that was nearing completion, continuing in that effort for several months until Brigham Young requested his services in Indiana.
	During the winter of 1846 relentless persecution forced between twelve and fifteen thousand Mormons from their Illinois home into exile. It was at the height of this trouble that Eph was sent to Indianapolis to pilot a group of church members to the troubled city. With a small caravan Eph arrived in Nauvoo just in time to join Brigham Young and four hundred families in crossing the icebound Mississippi River, February 11, 1846, to begin their westward pilgrimage.
	Eph was temporarily quartered at the Mormon settlement of Mount Pisgah, Iowa, when Captain James Allen arrived there with authority from President James K. Polk to recruit four hundred Mormon volunteers for the Mexican War. With encouragement from authorities of the Church, the desired numbers of young men were soon recruited, even though it meant leaving wagons without drivers and adding an even greater burden on the women. Eph was among those who offered their services. Sidney continued west with the main body of pioneers and later fulfilled a mission to the Society Islands for the church. Organized into companies, the volunteers marched to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, where they were outfitted prior to departure for their California destination on August 12, 1846. Before reaching Santa Fe and the completion of the first leg of their 2,000-mile journey, many volunteers suffered unnecessarily at the hands of the Battalion surgeon, Dr. George B. Sanderson. His insistence on administering calomel and arsenic to all his patients, notwithstanding the nature of their sickness, created general discontent among the recruits. When these "cure all" pills were prescribed to an ailing friend, Eph demonstrated his contempt for the cure by loading the pills together with some shot into his gun killing a sage hen with the load. He then cooked and served the bird to his ailing comrade.
	While enroute from Santa Fe to El Paso, as the Battalion traveled southward down the Rio Grande Valley, Eph saw an opportunity for augmenting the camp's dwindling food supply. Slipping away one night on horseback, he rounded up twelve wild steers, which he, with considerable difficulty, drove into camp the following morning just as the day's march was resuming. Excitement ran high as the stampeding animals succeeded in partially wrecking the camp before finally being disposed of.
	Heading westward through Tucson, the Battalion marched through to San Diego without incident, arriving there January 29, 1847.
	While the volunteers were garrisoned in San Diego, they apparently enjoyed a friendly rivalry with their Mexican neighbors. The "gringos" were often invited to fight the bulls in the arena and on many occasions Eph and others accepted the challenge. Being superior horsemen, the Mexicans usually bested their northern guest in riding skill, but not always. One Saturday morning the sporting Mexicans led a large blindfolded burro into the main town plaza and offered a five dollar gold piece to anyone who could ride him. Eph stepped forward and swung into the saddle expecting the worst; however, the animal stood relaxed and calm. But when the owner suddenly ripped off the blindfold, the burro came to life. The animal's owner scrambled for the safety of the saloon porch but the enraged animal followed right behind, nipping at his seat. With Eph still astride him, the burro bounded into the saloon upsetting tables and chairs, pausing long enough to glance at himself in a large mirror standing against the bar before crashing into it headfirst. The patrons inside rushed for the door with Eph and the charging burro close behind. Once in the street the still bucking burro was lassoed and Eph, jarred and shaken, slipped to the ground to collect the wager.
	On July 16, 1847, Eph, along with other Battalion members, was discharged at Los Angeles. Although nearly half of the volunteers who were mustered out of service remained in California for the winter, as advised by Brigham Young, Eph and others pushed on to the Mormon capital, arriving in Salt Lake City, October 1. Before leaving California, Eph and a friend, William Casper, gathered together a fine string of Spanish horses, which they drove to the valley.
	Shortly after arriving among the Saints, Eph overheard a bishop warn the girls in the community to beware of the returning Battalion members as they were looking for wives to whisk back to California. Disturbed at the false charge, Eph rode to the bishop's house located inside the old fort wall, and in the early dawn hours backed his animal onto the church official's porch, ramming his front door and banging it open. Scrambling from his bed into the open doorway, the bishop, not yet fully awake, listened to Eph's ultimatum. Either he retreat his statement within a week or not one log of his house would be left standing. Eph's determination and sense of dramatics impressed the bishop to publicly apologize the following Sunday.	
	Because Salt Lake City was on the California route, transient emigrants were not uncommon among the Mormons in these early years. Relations were generally cordial between the settlers and the emigrants, but there were exceptions. The leader of one of these forty-niner groups, not being particularly fond of Mormons, boasted before entering the Valley that he would "lick the first damn one he saw."
	When the burly traveler repeated his threat from a wagon in front of the old tithing house, Eph obligingly came forward, inviting the stranger to "Come down boy, come down off your wagon. Here is your chance." The bully sprang to the ground and in a matter of minutes Eph had him successfully pinned in the dirt to the delight of the partisan crowd that had gathered.
	Since Eph's first meeting with Brigham Young years earlier in Nauvoo, a growing understanding between these two men developed. Evidently, Brigham found in Eph a man he could trust, but not before putting him to the test. On a fall morning in 1848, President Young drove to where Eph was building an adobe house inside the Old Fort. Looking over the completed foundation, he inquired as to the thickness of the rock wall. "Eight inches," replied Eph. "Tear it down and build it twice that thick," suggested Brigham, who then promptly drove away before Eph could answer. To rebuild meant hauling more rock and doing twice the work they thought was necessary. Eph's mason helper was against following such counsel. Nevertheless, they widened the foundation to sixteen inches according to the leader's instruction. Eph was fitting the rafters on the house a month later when a heavy rain began falling, ultimately causing widespread flooding and considerable damage in parts of the Valley. Eph's reinforced walls stood firm against the resulting deluge, however, thus preventing a possible collapse of the entire structure. Others were not so fortunate. From then on when Brigham talked, Eph listened.
	Not long following this incident with Brigham Young, Eph met the Mormon leader at a dance in Salt Lake City. Again he counseled Eph. This time Eph was to go home and shave his face. Like many men of his day, Eph wore a beard almost to his waist. Somewhat puzzled, he left the social and rode home, pondering the unusual request. In an hour, however, he returned to the dance without a beard, but still wearing a mustache, which he hadn't shaved. Still not satisfied with his appearance, Brigham Young indicated with a sweep of the hand across Eph's face that he wanted a clean shave. Excusing himself a second time, Eph complied by shaving his entire face. It was perhaps this type of obedience to counsel that prompted the Mormon Church president to later say of Eph "Here was a man always ready to lay down his life for the authorities of the Church as well as for the cause of Zion and her people."
	The day Eph rode into Salt Lake City from California, he met his future wife, Harriet Decker Little, a fine looking widow girl. She recalled later how particularly impressed she had been with Eph's fine horse and Spanish-Mexican silver trapped black saddle. On September 22, 1848, they married and settled on a farm near Mill Creek, close to where John Neff erected the first flourmill in the Territory. From this union four sons and three daughters were born.
	Eph's fields remained untilled that first season, however, because of a call from church authorities to meet Brigham Young and a group of pioneers encamped on the Sweetwater River of Wyoming and assist them into the Salt Lake Valley.
	Eph was selected Salt Lake City's first pound keeper, with Horace S. Eldredge as his assistant. But farming and pound keeping did not sustain his interest for long. Perhaps his navy training and battalion experience inspired him to more adventuresome activity. Whatever the reason, we find Eph, after a brief flirtation with the soil, engaged in the more adventuresome occupation of carrying the mail between Salt Lake City and the Missouri River, a job more adapted to pacifying a restless disposition.

	Chapter 4

	MOUNTAINEER MAILMAN

	Adequate communication with the rest of the country had been a growing problem for the Mormons since their departure from Nauvoo. Occasionally, special couriers on speedy mounts dispatched urgent messages eastward to the Mississippi River or westward to California. But more often it was the occasional caravan departing for distant colonies, or the passing emigrant train, that was entrusted with the mail for the settlements through which they passed. And, although the mail was cheerfully dispatched by these accommodating pioneer couriers, a more feasible and regular service was urgently needed.
	Realizing the desirability for an improved communication service with Utah, the federal government established a post office in Salt Lake City in the winter of 1849, but it was not until 1850 that an acceptable bimonthly mail service was established between Kanesville, Iowa, and Salt Lake City.
	In August of 1851, Samuel H. Woodson subcontracted the carrying of the mail between Fort Laramie and Salt Lake City to Eph Hanks and Feramorz Little for $8,000 a year. They were to meet at Fort Laramie on the fifteenth of each month for an exchange of the east and westbound mails. Passengers, too, were transported over the five hundred mile stretch, which at the time was supported by only a single fort.
	On their initial trip, Hanks and Little, with passenger Apostle Orson Hyde, while traveling near South Pass, met D. B. Harris, Perry E. Brocchus, and L. G. Brandebury, the newly appointed government officials for the Utah Territory, on their way to Salt Lake City to assume their new responsibilities. Learning from the officials that the Bannock Indians near Willow Springs were unfriendly, the trio, in order to avoid trouble, made camp that evening a distance away from the main road. However, still concerned for their safety, the party, after appearing to have retired, slipped from the fire under the cover of darkness and continued on their way to Red Buttes, hoping to have outwitted any would-be guests. After a few hours' sleep in their new camp, they awoke the next morning relieved at finding no sign of Indians, but were startled to discover mammoth grizzly tracks around their sleeping bags. In spite of their precautions they had indeed hosted an unwanted guest during the night, but this visitor left behind a thirteen-inch footprint.
	The scouts successfully reached Fort Laramie in nine days, but so used up the animals in their hast they were not fit for the return trip. The only other available animals were five wild Mexican mules, which they purchased from a Mr. Goodall who owned a farm a short distance from the Fort. Feramorz Little provides us with an insight into frontier resourcefulness with the following vivid account of their return trip to Salt Lake City:

	Mr. Goodall with some of his rancheros insisted on bring them [mules] to Laramie. They also brought along lariats, blinds, etc., with which to handle them. Four of the mules were thrown down, bound with lariats, blinded, and the harness put on them. By a similar process Mr. Hanks put his saddle on the other one. When everything was in readiness, Mr. Little got into the wagon and took up the lines and Mr. Hanks mounted his mule. The blinds were removed and a lively performance commenced. Mr. Hanks took the lead, which assisted to keep the team in the road. The saddle mule was guilty of all the antics that a wild Mexican mule is considered capable of performing under such circumstances. Those on the wagon ran, bucked, and kicked over the traces and over the tongue of the wagon and back again. The mail and baggage danced about in a general jumble and some of the provisions were thrown out. Chances had to be taken for there was no stopping for anything.
	The animals had things pretty much their own way for seven or eight miles until reaching the Black Hills, when they became somewhat calm and a little more manageable. They made a successful days drive with the new outfit. At night the wild animals were secured with lariats and were given such limited opportunities to feed as would insure safety. While traveling the second day a short distance from the road, they saw a large grizzly bear digging roots. His head was so far under ground in the hole he had dug that his sense of hearing gave him no warning of intruders until Mr. Hanks had ridden near enough to use his revolver to advantage. The bear ran and Hanks alongside, forcing his animal up to the work with a huge pair of California spurs. He made four successful shots. The last one brought the bear down.
	Although the mules were shy, by good management, Mr. Little got them in the vicinity of the game. Mr. Dutton, a passenger, held the lines while Mr. Little dropped the traces. In doing so, one of the mules kicked as only a Mexican mule can kick and hit him in the breast. The blow was received on his pocket book, which he carried in his coat pocket. This partly neutralized its effects. Still it was of sufficient force to knock the breath out of him, and he fell to the ground as suddenly as though he had received a death shot. In a moment, however, he recovered and was on his feet. When Mr. Hanks saw that he was not seriously injured, he spoke a little jocularly of the affair. They soon cut out a supply of bear meat and threw away their buffalo beef, but afterwards concluded that they had made a poor exchange.
	When they were again attaching the mules to the wagon the one mule that had kicked Mr. Little gave Mr. Hanks a severe blow on the shinbone. He did not drop suddenly but turned white about the mouth and gradually wilted down with severe pain. The tables were fairly turned on him. His companion, while really sympathizing with him in his distress, could not well avoid being a little humorous at his expense. Nothing further of special interest occurred on this trip.

 	Carrying the overland mail called for courage as well as resourcefulness. On another trip east in September 1851, Hanks and Charles Decker, along with bodyguards George Clawson and Alfred Higgins, escorted Dr. John M. Bernhisel, Utah's first territorial delegate to Congress, to Washington, D. C. Outfitted with three pack animals loaded with mail, two saddle horses and a light wagon drawn by two mules, they traveled safely over the mountains to Fort Bridger without incident. However, while they were there they learned the Crow Indians, along their intended route, near Box Elder Creek, had been of late intercepting travelers.
	Following a brief rest, the group traveled to Deer Creek some ten miles this side of Box Elder Creek where they met a Mr. Jones, who with a good outfit and five well-armed men was photographing the route across the continent. Mindful of the advice at Fort Bridger, the couriers suggested the two parties travel together for mutual protection from the Crows. And even though the mountaineers agreed to travel a little slower if Jones and party would travel a little faster, Jones declined the offer, replying that "if he [Decker] were afraid of the Indians he had better go on.
	When approaching Box Elder Creek, some twenty-armed Indians swarmed across the road ahead of the wagon making signs they wanted to talk. Fearing for the safety of their distinguished passenger, the couriers made no attempt at escape but pulled off the road into a nearby hollow as directed. Being assured that after a smoke together they would be free to continue their journey, they reluctantly joined a circle of Indians seated on the ground. Following a short visit the chief, as promised, waved his guests on their way, but before they could locate the mules that had been unharnessed and led away, a number of braves pounced upon the wagon helping themselves to provisions and blankets. One brave grabbed the muzzle end of a revolver, which lay in the bottom of the wagon, with both hands, whereupon Decker, with one motion, seized the handle of the weapon and cocked the hammer. With the weapon pointing directly at him, ready to fire, the redskin quickly release his hold. In spite of the excitement caused by the incident, the chief unexpectedly motioned his braves to lower their rifles and tensions were eased. Hastily, the couriers recovered what supplies they could and made preparations to leave before the Indians had a change of mind. As the mules were being hitched, Higgins noticed an Indian sitting on his stolen rifle. Without saying a word, he "laid him out with one blow," and retrieved his weapon. Dr. Bernhisel, who had remained in the wagon during the excitement, appeared to take matters "quite philosophically."
	Once back on the road they saw why the Indians had a sudden change of heart toward them, for a short distance beyond the hollow, photographer Jones was setting up his equipment. Grateful to him for distracting their conniving hosts, but feeling he had been sufficiently warned about the Crows, the mail carriers continued on their way, traveling without further mishap until they reached the upper crossing of the North Platte. The near loss of Congressman Bernhisel during the crossing prompted an amusing narration of the adventure by Solomon Kimball:

	Here they found no ferryboat, but, having brought four ten gallon kegs along in case of just such an emergency, they loaded everything into the wagon, ran it into the river, lashed a keg to each wheel and tied one end of a long rope to the wagon tongue; then, with the other end, Eph and Charley swam to the other side. In the meantime, Clawson had gone over with the animals, taking the harness and saddles along with him. The scouts then hitched the team of mules to the end of the rope, and in this way the wagon was hauled over.
	The next thing was to get Utah's first congressman, who was a poor swimmer, across the river. The scouts thought it too much of a risk to take him over in the wagon, so they adopted this plan: George and Charley, with one end of the long rope, swam back to where the doctor was and fastened the rope securely under his arms; then the three of them waded into the stream as far as possible, Eph pulling in the slack rope from the other side as fast they advanced toward him. The swimming then began in earnest, Charley and George helping the honorable gentleman, of whose Whig political inclinations they were well aware, as much as they could. When they reached the main channel they became separated, and then it was every man for himself. As soon as the boys let go of the doctor, he cried for help.
	Eph, taking in the situation, and having the other end of the rope tied to the horn of his saddle, put spurs to his fiery steed.
	For the next hundred feet, Honorable John M. more resembled a good-sized flutter wheel, with full head on, than a delegate to Congress. After working over him for some time, the company moved on. 
	Several days after reaching the Bluffs, the Democratic mail carrier scouts were convulsed with laughter when they read in the FRONTIER GUARDIAN the following communication from the doctor:

					Independence, Missouri
				Sept. 28, 1851

Orson Hyde, Editor FRONTIER GUARDIAN

	Dear Sir:--I arrived here this afternoon in good health. Should you deem it worthy of notice please say in the GUARDIAN that I am neutral in politics. In haste, I am truly yours,
				John M. Bernhisel

	On the return trip from the Missouri River, the mail carriers, while traveling sixteen miles west of Ft. Laramie, happened upon photographer Jones dressed in ragged Indian clothing sitting on a large rock. When asked about this unusual attire, Jones replied that he had been "picked by the Crows." The same Indians who had earlier threatened the couriers had robbed him of everything except a buckskin bag containing $1,200 in gold dust.
	Men and teams suffered much during these trips across the plains. On the return trip from Washington D.C., for instance, Hanks and Little trudged through snow from one to three feet deep for seventeen days before reaching Salt Lake City. Years later, in December 1856, the same couriers fought snow and cold for seventy-eight days on a run to Independence, Missouri. The fastest recorded time from Salt Lake City to Independence was "inside twenty three days," made by Eph in June 1857. News of Parley P. Pratt's death arrived in this mail. Over a seven year period Eph and a handful of others made the 2,400 mile round trip better than fifty times. The journey normally required forty to fifty days for which they received one thousand dollars. 
	On another trip east, that could be the longest on record, Eph and Charley Decker were caught in a devastating snowstorm that forced them into a cave with their animals for twelve days. During the internment, horses and couriers alike survived on jerked meat rolled in flour. It took ninety days to make that trip. In appraising the near superhuman effort of Hanks and Little on that particularly challenging cross country effort, an unidentified chronicler writes, "Probably no other men could have endured in such service and which few others if any of even mountain men could. Kimball suggests that Eph and Charley Decker probably crossed the plains more times than any other white men.
	Supplies were ofttimes a problem for the overland mailmen, especially in winter. While traveling together on one occasion, Eph and Charley Decker ran out of food after having been detained enroute. Unable to shoot any game because of wet ammunition, they were left to other resources for their food supply. When the travelers accidentally rode upon a buffalo herd, hopes for replenishing their exhausted resources brightened. Spurring his horse alongside a large bull, Eph grabbed the animal's mane and both hands and vaulted onto his back while running at full speed. After riding the beast until he began to tire, Eph then drew his knife and plunged it into the animal's heart. Jumping from the stricken buffalo before he plummeted to the ground, Eph then skinned and quartered his prize. With enough meat now to last them until Independence, the couriers continued their journey.
	The plains buffalo, on more than one occasion, apparently saved the lives of the mail carriers. On another trip, after being robbed by Indians of everything but his knife, Eph located several buffalo grazing near a small stream partially hidden by a growth of underbrush. Exhausted and hungry after several days of walking he cautiously made his way downstream to within a short distance of a full-grown cow lying in the sun. Edging closer through the tall grass to within a few yards of her, Eph, with drawn knife, sprang on to her back and with a powerful stroke succeeded in slashing a hamstring before scurrying back to the protective cover of the stream's narrow ravine. The wounded beast charged after him to the edge of the gully, as Eph hoped she would. Then with the enraged animal confronting him only a few yards away, Eph sent his dog to attack her from the rear. With the cow's attention now diverted, Eph slipped up from behind and with a well-aimed thrust severed the other hamstring. After disposing of the helpless creature, he cured what meat he could comfortably carry and continued his journey afoot.
	While attending a 24th of July celebration in Loa, Utah, in the 1880's, Eph was sitting on the speaker's platform with several others listening to a Brother Cannon relate the story of his trek to Utah and of a young man who rode into their pioneer camp on a wild buffalo:
	
	He rode right into camp, stopped and pulling out a knife split the neck of a buffalo and jumped off as the animal fell dead.
	Eph spoke up, `why were you there?' Brother Cannon said, `I sure was.' Eph said, `So was I. I was the man who rode the buffalo.'
	They went into each other’s arms like two children. It had been twenty-three years since the incident had occurred and they had forgotten each other.

	In a letter written by Eph's longtime friend, Allen Taylor, to Walter E. Hanks in 1890, we are informed of another method utilized by Eph in hunting buffalo.
	...In traveling back on the plains, Bro. E. K. Hanks overtook me one evening just as we had camped. He was carrying the mail on horseback to the Bluffs. "Bro. Taylor," he said, "back here about a half a mile there is a herd of buffalo. I will unpack and go back and bring one in." He took his lariat, went alone, and lassoed a yearling. He brought him to camp, rolling and tumbling. My teamsters rode him and had their fun with him and then butchered him, and he made a fine piece of meat. Next morning Bro. Hanks left for the Bluffs. I think there is no danger of Bro. Hanks' suffering for meat as long as he has a horse and lariat.

	From the diary of George W. Bean we learn that Eph's expertise with a rope netted him "a live antelope by lasso method," just before the two friends met near Bear River traveling east. As Eph journeyed along with the Bean party they encountered an old she bear with two cubs. After dispatching mother bear with his revolver, Eph succeeded in capturing one of the cubs alive which he later sold for fifteen dollars to Howard Livingston, a Salt Lake City merchant.
	That same evening when the party was camped on the Muddy River just north of Fort Bridger, the talk centered around Eph and the day's adventure. Bean notes the occasion:

	I was relating to them the exploits of Brother Hanks that day, and how he used to catch his buffalo, by watching the herd come along, then dashing out to shake his blanket at one nearby to attract its attention, then he'd run to the bush to hide behind his blanket, as the buffalo bellowed and plowed into the blanket while Ephraim seated himself on the buffalo. Of course the buffalo shuts his eyes when he strikes. Well, this cowboy could have his bronco ride on the buffalo until he tired, then draw his boa knife from his belt, jab the buffalo in the pons of his neck and old "buffie" would begin to sway, then tumble over helpless, and thus Ephraim got many buffalo robes, meat too, for the big hump made good eating. As I talked, the Emigrants looked at each other smiling and questioning the truth of it all, so I added that the buffalo had a mane to cling to; and just then a bird flew over the fire where Ephraim was frying meat and he threw up his butcher knife, struck the bird, and it fell among them. Of course, that confirmed my stories without a doubt.

	Hunting was not his only forte, for Eph was a fine horseman as well. An entry in the Journal History provides us with an interesting look at his facet of his life. The writer of the narrative was camped six miles below Independence Rock when he saw Eph rope a wild mare, "the fastest and most beautiful animal of the horse kind I ever saw." After quieting her down somewhat, Eph dismounted from his animal to work with her at close quarters. At that moment, she whirled and started running again. Eph, not wanting to release his hold on the rope, was "drew half a mile over the sage plains until she was stopped by being chocked (sic) down." But still the mare fought Eph, desperately attempting to bite, strike and kick him, but "he fought her by whipping her with a rope until he conquered her and led her in triumph into camp."
	Another story related by Bean concerns a fat bronco mule Eph traded for while traveling with the party. After purchasing the animal, Eph was preparing to ride him when a friend of the mule's former owner remarked to Bean:

	If that man is your friend, keep him off that mule, for he throws everything that gets on him and has killed one man while on this trip, and will neither work, ride, nor pack. I said, never mind. If he gets away with Hanks it's all right, for I know the good riding qualities of my friend. Then when Hanks got on that fat bronco mule, it did its very best in bucking and trying to get ride of its rider, using every possible means, but Hanks won out and the mule finally gave up, mastered, and soon became one of the most useful animals on the mail line.

	Courtesy on the trail was an accepted fact for the seasoned traveler. Often a helping hand meant the difference between life and death when traveling the plains. Eph's generosity in helping those on the road and others prompted Kimball to accuse him of being "liberal to a fault." Philemon C. Merrill lends support to this statement. In a letter written to Willard Richards while camped at Chimney Rock, Merrill records the following account:

	When we arrived at Ft. Laramie, Bro. Ephraim K. Hanks met us and was glad to see us and treated us very kindly. He gave us by way of trade, a span of good fresh mules for two worn out horses and we feel to bless him for his kindness.

	Eph also made many trips to California with the mail. He and Brigham Young counseled together often concerning mail deliveries to both the east and west coasts. The church leader evidently had full confidence in Eph's abilities. A letter under signature of the First Presidency of the Mormon Church, written to Congressman Bernhisel in 1850, advocating a monthly mail service to California reads in part:

	The mail route from that place [Iron County] to the  Cahoon Pass (sic) is passable at any season of the year and the name of Ephraim K. Hanks is suggested as a suitable man to have the contract; he is a man eminently qualified for the business being well accustomed to mountain life, Indian habits, etc.

	On March 19, 1853, Eph left Salt Lake City with passenger Franklin Pierce, nephew to the President of the United States, and the mail for Fillmore, Parowan, San Bernardino, San Francisco, Sacramento and San Diego, California. When the Sierra Mountain snows were too deep for horses "he also carried mail to California afoot on snow shoes when the snow was six feet deep and more, in the perilous times of Indian troubles, passed right by Lake Tahoe."
	The following entry from Brigham Young's History helps sharpen our appreciation for the unexpected challenges these mounted mailmen constantly faced:
	Brother Charles Decker arrived from Laramie with the eastern mail. He had to swim every river between this and Laramie. The mail coach and mules were lost at Ham's Fork, where the mail lay under water from one to seven P.M.; the lead horses were saved by being cut loose. Brother Decker was in the ice water with the mail all the time, and then exhausted, had no resource but to wrap himself in robes and blankets, wet as water could make them, till morning, when he found himself in a free perspiration, fully relieved from the fever he had been laboring under most of the time since he left the city.
	Brother Ephraim K. Hanks about the same time had proceeded as far as Bear River with the eastern mail. At Weber River the raft on which he and party crossed was sucked under, forcing them to swim for their lives; the mail was carried down the stream and lay in the water upward to two hours. After a great deal of trouble and at the risk of their lives they secured it, but in bad condition. On reaching Bear River, which was foaming torrent extending from mountain to mountain, they found it impossible to proceed.

	Commenting on these and other courier experiences, B. H. Roberts concludes: "These instances of adventure do not exhaust the list of those encountered by these contractors or those in their service, they are set down only as typical of many that occurred."
	Because Feramorz Little was the only known courier to keep a diary during these years, most of their adventures are regrettably lost to history.

	Chapter 5

	PROPHET IN THE WILDERNESS

	While engaged in carrying the mail across what is now approximately one third of the United States, Eph quickly adapted to the ways of the Indian with whom he had frequent contact. Because he treated them fairly, over the years he established a rapport with them that was remarkable. His generosity, along with an aptitude for their language, also helped win many friends. He came to know them intimately as he ate and slept in their lodges and hunted with them on the plains. In some of these associations Eph reveals another dimension of his character that might be considered quite extraordinary, if not contradiction, when compared to the rugged adventurer he portrays in earlier Chapters of this paper.
	Although we have already demonstrated his loyalty to Brigham Young, we have as yet said little of his religiosity. Kimball claims the Indians from Salt Lake City to the Missouri River knew Eph as "the man who could talk with the Great Spirit." Those who knew Eph and wrote of him, practically without exception, extolled his gift of healing the sick. Solomon Kimball, Dave Rust, N. C. Hanks, Josiah Rogerson, Sr., and Andrew Jensen, among others, have recorded such accounts. "Ephraim Hanks possessed the gift of healing to a remarkable degree and always carried a bottle of consecrated oil," writes Kimball.
	According to several sources he also evidently enjoyed the gift of prophecy, an attribute, which Solomon Kimball reports, saved his life on several occasions. It would seem dreams ofttimes served as a pipeline for his inspiration, especially when traveling the mail route. Dave Rust, who Eph blessed several times when he was ill with diphtheria and once with acute tonsillitis, agreed he had a special gift. "He had a reputation for healing," maintained Rust. "I mean he really had it." He also remembered his sister, Laura, receiving blessings from Eph when she was sick.
	Eph's popularity with the Indians was due only in part to his kind treatment of them. At least one tribe was convinced he had a special influence with the Great White Spirit. On December 11, 1856, Eph and Feramorz Little, after receiving a blessing from the Presidency of the Church, started east with the mail. After reaching the Continental Divide where they encountered an unusually severe storm, they continued to Ash Hollow where they came upon eight freight teams belonging to Majors and Russell. Learning they had been snowbound forty days, the scouts assured the foreman, Captain Remick, whose immediate concern was a short food supply, that they would gladly assist him to the Missouri River despite the impossible weather. Eph went so far as to guarantee the freighters their fill of buffalo meat enroute. 
	Before leaving Ash Hollow, however, Eph visited a nearby Sioux village. His visit produced such dramatic results; the writer believes it worthwhile to quote the account in full.

	A large tribe of Sioux were encamped a short distance away, and Ephraim felt impressed to visit them before leaving. As soon as he reached their camp he made his way to the chief's tent, where he found no one present except an elderly female. Soon, however, the chief came and the lodge was filled with representative members of the tribe. As Ephraim took his place among them, the chief wanted to know who he was and where he had come from. Elder Hanks answered that he lived in the mountains and belonged to the people who had pulled handcarts across the plains, that his chief's name was Brigham Young, who sometimes talked with the Great White Spirit. The chief then wanted to know if Hanks himself could talk with the Great Spirit, which question the scout answered in the affirmative. The chief then spoke a few words to the assembled warriors, after which a number of them left the lodge and in a few moments returned, carrying an Indian boy in a blanket.
	It seemed that the boy, while out on a buffalo hunt, had been thrown from his horse. His back was so badly injured that he had not been able to move for months. The chief, pointing to the boy, asked Elder Hanks if he would talk to the Great Spirit in behalf of the injured lad, which Ephraim consented to do. After the clothing had been removed from the boy's body, Elder Hanks anointed the afflicted parts with consecrated oil, which he always carried with him, and then administered to him in the name of Jesus Christ, promising that he should be made whole from that very moment. The boy immediately arose from his bed and walked out of the lodge to the astonishment of the Indians.

	Following this incident, Eph inquired if the tribe could furnish provisions for the near destitute freighters camped nearby, whereupon the chief informed him that his own people were starving because of the buffalo's disappearance that winter. Eph then promised the chief that within three days buffalo would overrun the country and meat would again be plentiful. Returning to the camp he said nothing to his comrades of his visit to the tribe. The following morning as the freighter company started their six hundred mile trip to Independence, some thirty Indians lined both sides of the road. As the wagons passed between them each brave handed Eph a package of sausage made from choice buffalo meat and inquired as to when the would return. Knowing that Indians seldom part with food during a famine winter, Little remained puzzled at such generosity, but nevertheless obligingly accepted Eph's explanation that "he had treated them kindly and Indians never forget a kindness."
	While enroute to Fort Kearney, Eph dreamed one night there would soon be such an abundance of buffalo meat in camp even the animals would join in the feast. That evening, just before making camp, Eph fulfilled part of the dream himself by killing a large buffalo bull. After cutting part of the meat into small chunks, the pieces were then rolled in flour and cooked in a stew. After dinner, the leftover portion was thrown out on the ground where it was eaten by the hungry mules.
	Several days later as they approached a river, Eph advised his traveling companions to follow his instructions and none would get wet. "What is that, Mr. Wizard?" quipped Remick, expecting a practical joke of some kind. While crossing on the ice, all went well until they neared the middle of the river, and Eph counseled them to stop. Seeing no apparent danger, Remick continued forward until he hit a patch of thin ice. His outfit broke through the surface and was buried in water.
	As the freighters moved to within twenty five miles of Fort Kearney, Remick, now probably more out of interested curiosity than jest, challenged Eph with "What next Mr. Prophet?" "You will ride into Fort Kearney blindfolded," rejoined Eph. And so it happened according to Kimball's narrative. The intense sunlight reflecting from the snow temporarily blinded several teamsters, including Remick, and for the next few days until reaching the Fort it was necessary that they wear protective blindfolds.
	On the return trip from Independence, while traveling near Ash Hollow, Hanks and Little visited the local traders who wanted to know what Eph had done to excite the Indians, for since his visit two months before they had been traveling up and down the territory looking for him. The couriers were then informed that three days after they left Ash Hollow one of the largest buffalo herds ever seen in that country passed through the neighborhood.
	Both Hanks and Little visited Indian camps whenever possible while crossing the plains, and learned to appreciate their special kind of hospitality. In December 1857, a blinding a snowstorm intercepted the two couriers while traveling in the neighborhood of Platte Bridge, making progress almost impossible. Upon reaching a protective stand of timber on an island in the Platte River, they were preparing to make camp when they heard a dog bark. Exploring the other side of the island, the two scouts found a young Indian boy who, upon request, escorted them to his nearby village. When arriving at the chief's lodge they remained on their horses according to Indian custom until invited to dismount, after which they were presented to "Old Smoke," a friendly Sioux chief whom they both knew.
	The guests were invited into the chief's lodge where a dozen warriors soon gathered to welcome them. Biscuits were baked from flour furnished by the couriers while the chief furnished meat and coffee for the occasion. Following the meal and a congenial smoke, the couriers were invited, as is Indian custom, to another lodge for a second meal. Following the fourth invitation, Little found it impossible to eat more, so Eph continued making the rounds alone. Eph had evidently learned from previous experience the secret of storing large quantities of food because for several days following this eating orgy, he required little nourishment.
	It was this type of association with the redmen that prompted Kimball to write:

	"The Indians of the plains learned to love and respect him; and in later years, he wielded an influence among them that was nothing short of marvelous."

	Perhaps no other experience portrays Eph in the dual roles of mountaineer and prophet more accurately than his experience with the snowbound handcart companies on the Sweetwater in the late fall of 1856. The dramatic account of that rescue which is recorded in Chapter Seven is especially relevant because, for all practical purposes, it is the only document available wherein Eph tells his own story.
	In June 1891, Church historian, Andrew Jensen visited Eph at his home in Pleasant Creek, Wayne County, Utah, and recorded the account. After describing his ordeal in fighting his way to the stranded emigrants Eph relates:

	When I saw the terrible condition of the immigrants on first entering their camp, my heart almost melted within me. I rose up in my saddle and tried to speak cheering and comforting words to them. I told them also that they should all have the privilege to ride into Salt Lake City, as more teams were coming.
	After dark, on the evening of my arrival in the handcart camp, a woman crying aloud passed the campfire where I was sitting. Wondering what was the matter, my natural impulse led me to follow her. She went straight to Daniel Tyler's wagon, where she told the heartrending story of her husband being at the point of death, and in pleading tones she asked Elder Tyler to come and administer to him. This good brother, tired and weary as he was after pulling handcarts all day, had just retired for the night, and was a little reluctant in getting up; but on this earnest solicitation he soon arose, and we both followed the woman to the tent, in which we found the apparently lifeless form of her husband. On seeing him, Elder Tyler remarked, `I cannot administer to a dead man.' Brother Tyler requested me to stay and lay out the supposed dead brother, while he returned to his wagon to seek that rest which he needed so much. I immediately stepped back to the campfire where several of the brethren were sitting and addressing myself to Elders Grant, Kimball, and one or two others, I said: `Will you boys do just as I tell you?' The answer was in the affirmative. We then went to work and built a fire near the tent which I and Elder Tyler had just visited; next we warmed some water and washed the dying man, whose name was Blair, from head to foot. I then anointed him with consecrated oil over his whole body, after which we laid hands on him and commanded him in the name of Jesus Christ to breathe and live. The effect was instantaneous. The man, who was dead to all appearances, immediately began to breathe, sat up in his bed and commenced to sing a hymn. His wife, unable to control her feelings of joy and thankfulness, ran through the camp exclaiming: `My husband was dead, but is now alive. Praised be the name of God. The man who brought the buffalo meat has healed him.'
	This circumstance caused a general excitement in the whole camp, and many of the drooping spirits began to take fresh courage from that very hour. After this the greater portion of my time was devoted to waiting on the sick. `Come to me,' `help me,' `please administer to my sick wife,' or `my dying child,' were some of the requests that were made of me almost hourly for some time after I had joined the immigrants, and I spent days going from tent to tent administering to the sick. Truly the Lord was with me and others of His servants who labored faithfully together with me in that day of trial and suffering. The result of this our labor of love certainly redounded to the honor and glory of a kind and merciful God. In scores of instances, when we administered to the sick and rebuked the diseases in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, the sufferers would rally at once; they were healed almost instantly. I believe I administered to several hundreds in a single day; and I could give names of many whose lives were saved by the power of God. But I will only give the details in one more instance.
	One evening after having gone as far as Fort Bridger, I was requested by a sister to come and administer to her son, whose name was Thomas. He was very sick, indeed, and his friends expected he would die that night. When I came to the place where he lay he was moaning pitifully, and was almost too weak to turn around in his bed. I felt the power of God resting upon me, and addressing the young man, said: `Will you believe the words I tell you?' His response was `Yes.' I then administered to him, and he was immediately healed. He got up, dressed himself, and danced a hornpipe on the end board of a wagon, which I procured for that purpose. But notwithstanding these manifestations of the Lord's goodness, many of the immigrants who extremities were frozen, lost their limbs, either whole or in part. Many such I washed with water and castile soap, until the frozen parts would fall off, after which I would severe the shreds of flesh from the remaining portions of the limbs with my scissors. Some of the immigrants lost toes, others fingers, and again others whole hands and feet; one woman who now resides in Koosharem, Piute Co., Utah, lost both her legs below the knees, and quite a number who survived became cripples for life. But so far as I remember there were no fresh cases of frozen limbs after my arrival in camp. As the train moved forward in the daytime I would generally leave the road in search of game; and on these expeditions killed and dressed a number of buffaloes, distributing their meat among the people. On one occasion when I was lagging behind with a killed buffalo, an English girl by the name of Griffin gave out completely, and not being able to walk any further, she lay down with her head in the snow. When I saw her disabled condition I lifted her on my saddle, the horse being loaded with buffalo meat, and in this condition she rode into camp.

	The boy who in the above account danced on the end board of a wagon with frozen feet was Thomas Dobson who remembers Eph's memorable entrance into camp:

	He was using a buffalo tail for a whip. He swung it over his head as he rode into the circle by the fire, calling, `Hurrah, boys, hurrah! Keep your spirits up. There is a load of food on the way.' He dropped the buffalo tail into the fire and stepped off his mule. I was a boy twelve years old, but Ephraim Hanks looked more like a god to me than any human being I ever saw... He returned to the fire and with a stick extracted the buffalo tail. After scraping the burned hair and outside of the skin, he cut it into small pieces and dropped it into the broth which they had boiling in the kettle... Hanks, with his mule and lariat and the men with axes, soon provided a fire down the middle of the road. The circle of handcarts was broken and placed on either side of the road. It was not dry enough to make beds. Hanks, with his hunting knife, amputated a baby's feet, and a lady's legs at the knee to stop the spread of gangrene.
	I will never forget Uncle Eph. My toes were frozen black. He showed me how to wrap them in burlap and gave me a place on a platform which protruded behind the wagon. Then he said to me, `Now Tommy, this is your place. You walk every step you can, but when you cannot walk anymore, sit right down on this corner and have a ride.'
	Two middle aged ladies were given the back inside corners of the wagon for their place to ride when they could not walk. One day they were riding almost all day. The weather was very cold. Uncle Eph rode by and said, `Sisters, if you don't get out of that wagon and walk, we will have to bury you both before sundown.' Their graves marked the campground on that day's trip...
	While supper was cooking, Uncle Eph said, `Tommy, put that endgate in front of the fire and dance as you have never danced before. I promise you in the name of Israel's God your toes will get well.' And my toes did get well.

	Among those who were near death from exposure when Eph arrived on the scene was a twelve-year-old girl, Thisbe Read. Her mother was so concerned for her she promised Eph he could have her for his own if he would save her life. "So he built a fire and wrapped her up in his buffalo robe and save her." He later married this girl and she became this writer's great grandmother.
	Even though having just evidenced examples of Eph's faith and spiritual courage, by presentary Mormon standards, he could not have been considered wholly orthodox. For example, Moroni Lazenby who knew Eph well, relates the following account:

	He liked beer well and one night he got a little too much. A kind lady friend took him in and put him to bed. She had a very sick baby and as the night went on the baby became worse. She decided to wake Ephraim and have him administer to it. She had quite a time to arouse him. But with a lot of effort she got him awake and he administered to the child. It was healed instantly.

	Again during the 1880's when federal marshals were seeking Mormon polygamist families to prosecute under the law, several deputies appeared in Caineville, Utah, where Eph was living at the time. As they approached his home, Eph commented on his friend Will Beal, "I'll make them think we are hard cases." He then rolled a cigarette from a plug of tobacco and assured his friend, "They won't be looking for cohabs (polygamists) here with this going on."
	Yet another example of Eph's practical disposition is when, during the so-called Utah War in 1857, while attending a briefing in a mountain tent, Eph refused a request to pray vocally. Inviting the man sitting next to him to pray in his place, he walked out of the meeting for "he had a hunch and had to leave." Searching in the bushes near the tent he apprehended an army spy who had been listening to the discussion. Eph remarked, "You have to watch as well as pray."
	In later years at Hanksville, Dave Rust heard Eph pray in church and recalled the prayer word for word. Eph prayed, "Lord, we have come here tonight to learn something. Bless us to that end, Amen." Rust then added, "I loved that man."
	Eph's pragmatic thinking, however, on one occasion prompted a misunderstanding with Edward Hunter, who at the time was the presiding bishop of the church. The incident is noted because once again it provides a peephole through which to see and better evaluate the philosophy that molded Eph's life.	
	In the fall of 1852, Eph was riding from his Heber home to Salt Lake City. Passing by the church farm he stopped and looked at the beef cattle browsing in the pasture. Remembering several impoverished neighbor families living in Heber he singled out one of the steers, which he then drove back home, where he killed and quartered the animal. Grandma Clegg recalls what happened next:

	My children and I were starving. We had eaten our last food. In the middle of the night there was a rap on the door. When I opened it, a quarter of beef rolled in on the floor and Ephraim Hanks said, "The Lord has plenty of cattle and the Lord's children must be fed."

	The following day in Salt Lake City, Eph informed Bishop Hunter what he had done. According to Dave Rust the two men did not get along well after that. Not until Bishop Hunter became seriously ill and sent for Eph to heal him was there reconciliation. After Eph administered to Hunter he reportedly became well.
	Evidently this was not the only occasion that Eph distributed goods from the storehouse unofficially.
	Notwithstanding Eph's independent mind and sometimes-questionable orthodoxy, there can be no doubts as to his spiritual acumen. His accomplishments along this line are unequivocal.
	In an 1896 obituary notice wherein is Eph is eulogized we read:

	Like the Prophet Joseph and others he had remarkable faith and power in healing the sick. He would rebuke sickness and disease without ever touching the afflicted; a silent prayer to others and he could accomplish almost anything he desired for the benefit of others. The sick all over the country had so much faith in him that if he could only administer to them, they were healed; even the Indians would bring their sick for a hundred miles for Brother Hanks to administer to them and they were invariably made whole.

	In assessing Eph's influence with the Indians Kimball writes:

	There was not a man in the Church that had more influence with them than he had. So many cures he performed among them that they almost looked upon him as a superhuman being. They fed him when he was hungry, clothed him when he was naked, and cared for him when sick. The Spirit of the Lord was with him, and no one realized that fact more than did the redmen of the plains.

	Chapter 6

	HE SPOKE THEIR LANGUAGE

	When Solomon Kimball wrote of Eph's work with the Indians suggesting "there was not a man in the church who had more influence with them than he had," he was likely referring to his resourcefulness in dealing with them forcefully when necessary, as well as the more positive relationship already noted. Not all Indians were friendly, but then neither were all the emigrants. Whatever the cause of misunderstanding, Eph, like his fellow couriers, at times had to defend himself and the mail from attack. Once while traveling alone on the plains, marauding Indians stripped him of everything except his clothing. Realizing the necessity of recovering his stolen equipment if he were to survive, he pursued the Indians four days on foot before catching up with them. Waiting for the cover of night he crawled undetected near to the Indian camp where the horses were tethered and quietly slipped away unnoticed with two of their animals. Two days of hard riding then brought him safely to Fort Laramie where government officials reoutfitted him. In spite of this delay he arrived at his Missouri destination several days ahead of schedule.
	It appears that on several occasions, Eph's quick thinking and sense of showmanship probably saved his life while traveling. During the summer of 1858, when returning to the Mormon capital after delivering a message in San Francisco for Brigham Young, Eph and an Indian companion, Yodes, prepared to camp one night by a lake in the Sierras. While unloading the wagon, Eph momentarily caught the reflection of a moving shadow on the surface of the water. Realizing the possible danger of an Indian attack, Eph without looking up, directed Yodes to harness the mules and reload the supplies, and in a matter of minutes the tired mules were traveling at a good clip away from the suspicious ledges above the lake. They hadn't traveled far, however, when twelve armed braves with painted faces rode out from the trees and surrounded the wagon. Convinced there was little hope for negotiation, a fair fight, or a run from it over the narrow mountain road, Eph suddenly jumped to his feet, flailing his arms around excitedly and shouted at the top of his voice, pretending to address the Great White Spirit. Then cupping his hands over his ears as if expecting an answer, he listened intently. After repeating the demonstration several times he twirled his hat around his heat and sent it spinning into the air. His coat was next seen flying in the same direction. Yelling unintelligibly, he pulled at his beard and hair while contorting his face into a score of grotesque expressions. Removing his vest he then flung it into the air and his shirt followed it, and by the time he removed his pants the war party had evidently seen enough to convince them Eph was indeed a wild man and they rode off. Eph knew only too well the Indians' fear of the mentally ill.
	On at least two other occasions Eph employed similar tactics to escape his Indian captors. He also learned the effectiveness of prominently displaying a double row of teeth that were his own.
	While assisting members of the death ridden Martin Handcart Company into the Salt Lake Valley during the difficult winter of 1856, Eph and a small company of pioneers were surrounded one evening by menacing braves. Sizing up the situation, Eph responded by quickly blackening his teeth with charcoal and instructing his traveling companion to tie him to the front wheel of the lead wagon where he commenced to cry and scream until the alarmed Indians went away.
	Probably one of his most impressive performances was auditioned by Ute Indians who attempted to burn Eph at the stake in the mountains east of Salt Lake City. After being tied to a post in preparation for the fiery ordeal, he again won a last minute pardon because of his crazy man antics.
	Even his biographer, Kimball, had difficulty understanding how "Eph could go from sublime to the ridiculous with such little effort." But then Rust, too, acknowledges "he was a showman and at times hypocritical." It appears to the writer, however, after a careful study of this western scout's life, that it was indeed this very flexibility that served him so well in doing the improbably throughout his life. Kimball credits him with "accomplishing the impossible," and with "being always equal to emergencies, notwithstanding the situation." Tom Dobson, who credits Eph, in Chapter Seven, with saving his life on the plains, lends support to this idea by noting "Eph was never stuck; when there was anything to do he did it.
	Eph's flair for the dramatic is further evidenced in an incident with some Indians near Devil's Gate and the Sweetwater in October 1856. After having been immobilized several days by a storm while carrying supplies to several stranded handcart companies, Eph chanced upon a small band of Indians traveling south. Having wandered from the road because of the deep snow and poor visibility, Eph solicited their help in finding the handcart people. The Indians being none too friendly not only refused to assist but also made some covetous overtures towards his animals. After sketching with his knife the main route in the snow, to let them know he was acquainted with the country, Eph purposefully let the weapon slip from his hand onto the ground as he talked. After observing from the corner of his eye one of the braves kicked snow over the fallen instrument to conceal it, Eph mounted his horse and started to ride off. Then stopping a few yards away, he pretended to search his boot for the missing knife. Returning to the waiting braves he inquired about its whereabouts, but received only negative replies. The astonished Indians then watched as Eph raised his hands high in the air and fervently began addressing the Great White Spirit in the mixture of Indian dialect and English. Slowly lowering his arms, he then gave indication of having received an answer to his petition for both hands came to rest on the Indian who was standing on his knife. Impressed with Eph's psychic powers, the Indians not only returned the weapon but also offered assistance in finding the missing emigrants.
	Due in part to religious beliefs, the early Mormon pioneers were sympathetic in dealing with the Indians. Even when trouble erupted with the Utes and Shoshone Indians living near their settlements in the Great Basin, the settlers generally adopted Brigham Young's program of feeding them instead of fighting them. There were times, however, when stronger measures had to be taken for their own self-protection.
	In the winter of 1850, Eph, along with one hundred other militia volunteers, was sent to Provo to pacify Chiefs' Big Elk and `Stick on the Head,' who, along with their braves, had been stealing cattle and, in general, threatening the settlers in Utah Valley.
	Arriving at Fort Provo, the volunteers discovered the Indians had barricaded themselves behind a defensive breastwork of timber close to a log house, which they also occupied. Prior to directing this show of force against the surely chiefs, Brigham Young sent Eph, along with Hiram B. Clawson, Lewis Robison, and George D. Grant as peace commissioners to trade and talk with them as a gesture of good will. But even after a day of successful trading with the sub chiefs, Arapeen and Talbow, the Indians continued to be troublesome and, as a last resort, the militia was sent to intercept them. But now the Indians were determined, and after two days of heavy fighting some fifty braves remained firmly entrenched behind their barricade. So stubbornly did they fight that Captain Grant, commanding the volunteers, finally ordered a diversionary flanking attack by a handful of militiamen.
	Eph, along with Robert T. Burton, Lot Smith, and twelve other handpicked men, led by Lieutenant William H. Kimball, concealed themselves directly opposite the rear of the house fortified by the braves. Working their way through a ravine that hid them from view, they were able to approach within one hundred yards of the fortification. Then, on signal, the small attacking force charged on to the flat toward the house. The first volley from the fortification wounded Trooper Isham Flynn and felled Eph's horse. But the attack succeeded, for almost immediately the defenders fled from the house to the safety of the log barricade a short distance away. The first volunteers to reach the house were Smith and Burton who momentarily found shelter between the house and a shed. By now, the defenders having regrouped, they fired a second volley at the militiamen, this time killing a number of horses but somewhat miraculously missing the men, some of whom were huddled against the back wall of the house. Needing to strengthen their position from inside the house, but unable to get in except through the front, Hanks and Kimball sprinted around the house and charged in the door before the Indians could set up an effective fire. Once inside, they were able to force a hole in the back wall through which the others entered. Although unharmed in the exchange, Eph displayed two bullet holes in his Navajo blanket coat he had worn during the attack.
	After three days of fighting the outnumbered braves surrendered but not before Chief Big Elk and forty of his braves had been killed. Joseph Higbee, who was mortally wounded during the first day of fighting, was the one volunteer casualty.
	Eph's valuable service as guide and Indian interpreter is further evidenced by William Morley Black in the following incident:

	In February 1850, in company with Ephraim Hanks, William Potter, and four others, the start was made for Sanpete County. There were no settlements south of Salt Lake City until we reached Provo, where the settlers were living in a fort. Our progress was slow on account of muddy roads, the melting snows, and frequent storms that came at that season of the year. At the crossing of the Spanish Fork Creek, as we were moving along a narrow road cut through heavy willows, a troop of Indians appeared on the opposite bluff and opened fire on us.
	I was driving the lead team and am free to confess that I halted as soon as I could. Ephraim Hanks, the leading spirit of the company, stepped fearlessly to the front and in Spanish held a parley with the redmen, who were under the leadership of Josephine (sic), reputed half brother of Chief Walker.
	The Indians refused to let us advance unless we paid tribute. We gave them one sack of flour and three sacks of cornmeal as a peace offering, which was in harmony with President Young's counsel that it is cheaper to feed the Indians than to fight them.
	It was by President Young's wisdom and foresight that Hanks was along. He was by nature an athlete of wonderful power. He loved excitement and danger, qualities that gave him great influence with the Indians. On this occasion they had the advantage of us and had they continued the onslaught we could not have escaped. The whistling of the bullets was new music to me and I was glad when the music ceased. We received no further harm than a scare and the loss of four sacks of provisions.

	During the following summer of 1851, Eph volunteered, along with thirteen others, to track a band of Indians who had stolen one hundred head of cattle near the south end of Salt Lake. Led by Captain William McBride, they followed the Indians into the Skull Valley area, but finding themselves greatly outnumbered by the braves, they returned to Salt Lake City for reinforcements. Now with thirty-six additional men the posse returned to the Indian camp now located in the Cedar Mountains, and in the early morning hours mounted a surprise attack against the Indians in which nine braves were killed. This show of force quickly ended the Skull Valley hostilities.
	Even though Eph continued to be active in carrying the mail during these troubled years at home, it seemed as if he were always available when his services were needed most. Following the Indian War of 1853, for example, the effects of which were felt along a 250 mile stretch of settlements in the Great Basin, Eph accompanied Brigham Young and others to Nephi to meet with Chief Walker for a peace conference. Then, in 1854, Eph and George W. Bean, following the counsel of Brigham Young, met with a gather of Indians thirty miles east of Green River on Big Sandy in an effort to keep peace among several tribes. Bean records the visit:

	They had about one hundred lodges. Among the Indians were many of my old acquaintances: To-shar-pooe, or White Eye, Anterro, To-ko-woonah and his father Sowiette, and the leading White River and Uintah Utes. They received us very kindly and were instructed as to their obligations hereafter in keeping off the territory of the other tribes, viz: Sioux, Shoshones, Arapahos, Cheyennes and Crows, whose country they were in. We also explained further that boundaries of Indian superintendencies and agencies as being generally in conformity with state and territorial lines and they were to be so governed hereafter. They thought it hard to give up their annual buffalo hunt down on the Platte River and tributaries, but promised to keep off other lands as much as possible, except by consent of other tribes.

	In evaluating Eph's experiences with the Plains Indians during these years, Kimball writes:

	From 1856 to 1863 much of his time was spent among the hostile Indians of the plains in the interest of `Mormon' emigration. He visited first one tribe and then another, and in this way, by intelligent diplomacy, he saved the lives of many people. All this work he did without renumeration for his love of God's children, which knew no bounds.

	Again, in the spring of 1857, Eph accompanied Brigham Young and others on another peace mission to the Indians, this time traveling to the northern outpost of Fort Limhi for a visit with the Bannock tribe with whom they smoked the peace pipe and exchanged gifts.
	When the destructive Black Hawk War broke out in 1865, Eph was living in Parleys Park. After moving his family to Salt Lake City for safety, he rode south to help contain Chief Black Hawk and a number of sub chiefs who during the ensuing three year struggle uprooted twenty seven settlements and killed seventy five settlers. About the same number of Indians also died in the war.
	It would appear that during these unsettled years that Eph's time was spent either negotiating or fighting with the Indians. An article appearing in an 1869 edition of the Deseret Evening News reveals that Eph "participated in every Indian campaign," and that his influence among the Indians was "unique and beneficent."
	Frontiersmen like Eph, who knew the Indians so intimately, were prepared to meet them on their own terms either in peace talks or, if necessary, in battle. Eph told his traveling companions on one trip after visiting several tribes of Indians "he had always been kind to the redmen of the plains and that they were a class of people who never overlooked a kind act." Men like Eph Hanks spoke the language the Indians understood best.

	Chapter 7

	HANDCARTS AND THE UTAH WAR

	During the winter of 1856-57, there was no regular mail service between the Salt Lake Valley and Missouri River points due to the severity of the season. Eph, who was now thirty years old, was living in Salt Lake City where, during the spring of that year, he had taken two additional wives according to the Mormon practice of plural marriage. In March, 1856, on the 17th and 26th of the month, he married Hannah Hardy, a sixteen year old convert; and a fifteen year old girl, Jane Capener, both of whom later divorced him. Hannah Hardy left him within two months.
	Eph could not have been aware that fall season as he earned a livelihood fishing Utah Lake and marketing his catch in Salt Lake City, that he would shortly be called to perform a Herculean feat of mercy requiring, as one diarist wrote, "incomparable self-sacrifice and courage." It was to be his most notable accomplishment.
	As early as 1851, church authorities in searching for a less expensive and faster method of transporting emigrants from the eastern railroad terminus to the Salt Lake Valley suggested the use of handcarts. It was not until 1856, however, that the idea was adopted. The first three handcart companies, numbering 766 pioneers, accomplished the 1,300-mile journey from Iowa City to the Mormon capital in record time that year. So naturally, church leaders continued to be optimistic as the follow-up Martin and Willie's Handcart Companies started pushing their way across the plains. They were to be the last emigration of that season. But, because of untimely delays they were compelled to postpone their start until much later than expected. Realizing the danger of meeting winter while enroute, the two companies, while at Florence, Nebraska, nevertheless voted to continue their pilgrimage.
	Unfortunately, the first severe frost, accompanied by severe winds and snowstorms, stunned the 404 members Willie Company on September 17, while yet on the Platte River, still five hundred miles from their destination. Almost over night the forlorn pioneers faced annihilation from hunger, dysentery, cold and exhaustion. While camped at Willow Creek on the Sweetwater, thirteen people died in one night and two the following day. The larger 576 members Martin Company, with a greater number of older women and children, suffered even more. Having left Florence later, they encountered even more storms.
	The same impossible weather that had stranded the handcart companies was to also delay the valley supply wagons from reaching them. However, realizing the probable plight of the emigrants, Brigham Young issued a call for help. In his own words Eph relates his part in the rescue. Again, because this is such an important firsthand account of the rescue, as well as the only autobiographical account of his life, the narrative is included in this work.

	In the fall of 1856, I spent considerable of my time fishing in Utah Lake; and in traveling backward and forward between that lake and Salt Lake City, I had occasion to stop once overnight with Gurney Brown, in Draper, about nineteen miles south of Salt Lake City. Being somewhat fatigued after the day's journey, I retired to rest quite early, and while I still lay wide awake in my bed I heard a voice calling me by name, and then saying: "The handcart people are in trouble and you are wanted; will you go and help them?" I turned instinctively in the direction from whence the voice came and beheld an ordinary sized man in the room. Without any hesitation I answered, "Yes, I will go if I am called." I then turned around to go to sleep, but had laid only a few minutes when the voice called a second time, repeating almost the same words as on the first occasion. My answer was the same as before. This was repeated a third time.
	When I got up the next morning I says to Brother Brown, "The handcart people are in trouble, and I have promised to go out and help them;" but I did not tell him of my experiences during the night.
	I now hastened to Salt Lake City, and arrived there on the Saturday, preceding the Sunday on which the call was made for volunteers to go out and help the last handcart companies in. When some of the brethren responded by explaining that they could get ready to start in a few days, I spoke at once saying, "I am ready now!" The next day I was wending my way eastward over the mountains with a light wagon all alone.
	The terrific storm which caused the immigrants so much suffering and loss overtook me near the South Pass, where I stopped about three days with Reddick N. Allred, who had come out with provisions for the immigrants. The storm during these three days was simply awful. In all my travels in the Rocky Mountains both before and afterwards, I have seen no worse. When at length the snow ceased falling, it lay on the ground so deep that for many days it was impossible to move wagons through it.
	Being deeply concerned about the possible fate of the immigrants, and feeling anxious to learn of their condition, I determined to start out on horseback to meet them; and for this purpose I secured a pack saddle and two animals (one to ride and one to pack), from Brother Allred, and began to make my way slowly through the snow alone. After traveling for some time I met Joseph A. Young and one of the Garr boys, two of the relief company, which had been sent from Salt Lake City to help the companies. They had met the immigrants and were now returning with important dispatches from the camps to the headquarters of the Church, reporting the awful condition of the companies.
	In the meantime I continued my lonely journey, and the night after meeting Elders Young and Garr, I camped in the snow in the mountains. As I was preparing to make a bed in the snow with the few articles that my pack animal carried for me, I thought how comfortable a buffalo robe would be on such an occasion, and also how I could relish a little buffalo meat for supper, and before lying down for the night I was instinctively led to ask the Lord to send me a buffalo. Now, I am firm believer in the efficacy of prayer, for I have on many different occasions asked the Lord for blessings, which He in His mercy has bestowed on me. But when I, after praying as I did on that lonely night in the South Pass, looked around me and spied a buffalo bull within fifty yards of my camp, my surprise was complete. I had certainly not expected so immediate an answer to my prayer. However, I soon collected myself and was not at a loss to know what to do. Taking deliberate aim at the animal, my first shot brought him down; he made a few jumps only, and the rolled down into the very hollow where I was encamped. I was soon busily engaged in skinning my game, finishing which, I spread the hide on the snow and placed my bed upon it. I next prepared supper, eating tongue and other choice parts of the animal I had killed, to my heart's content. After this I enjoyed a refreshing night's sleep, while my horses were browsing on the sagebrush.
	Early the next morning I was on my way again, and soon reached what is known as the Ice Springs Bench. There I happened upon a herd of buffalo, and killed a nice cow. I was impressed to do this, although I did not know why until a few hours later, but the thought occurred to my mind that the hand of the Lord was in it, as it was a rare thing to find buffalo herds around that place at this late part to the season. I skinned and dressed the cow; then cut up part of its meat in long strips and loaded my horses with it. Thereupon I resumed my journey, and traveled on till towards evening. I think the sun was about an hour high in the west when I spied something in the distance that looked like a black streak in the snow. As I got near to it, I perceived it moved; than I was satisfied that this was the long looked for Handcart Company, led by Captain Edward Martin. I reached the ill-fated train just as the immigrants were camping for the night. The sight that met my gaze as I entered their camp can never be erased from my memory. The starved forms and haggard countenances of the poor sufferers, as they moved about slowly, shivering with cold, to prepare their scanty evening meal was enough to touch the stoutest heart. When they saw me coming, they hailed me with joy inexpressible, and when they further beheld the supply of fresh meat I brought into camp, their gratitude knew no bounds. Flocking around me, one would say, "Oh, please, give me a small piece of meat;" another would exclaim, "My poor children are starving, do give me a little;" and children with tears in their eyes would call out, "Give me some, give me some," At first I tried to wait on them and handed out the meat as they called for it; but finally I told them to help themselves. Five minutes later both my horses had been released of their extra burden--the meat was all gone, and the next few hours found the people in camp busily engaged in cooking and eating it, with thankful hearts.
	A prophecy had been made by one of the brethren that the company should feast on buffalo meat when their provisions might run short; my arrival in their camp, loaded with meat, was the beginning of the fulfillment of that prediction; but only the beginning, as I afterwards shot and killed a number of buffalo for them as we journeyed along.
	Soon more relief companies were met and as fast as the baggage was transferred into the wagons, the handcarts were abandoned one after another, until none were left.
	I remained with the immigrants until the last of Captain Martin's company arrived in Salt Lake City on the thirtieth day of November 1856.
	I have but a little to say about the sufferings of Captain Martin's company before I joined it; but it had passed through terrible ordeals. Women and the larger children helped the men to pull the handcarts, and in crossing the frozen streams, they had to break the ice with their feet. In fording the Platte River, the largest stream they had to cross after the cold weather set in, the clothes of the immigrants were frozen stiff around their bodies before they could exchange them for others. This is supposed to have been the cause of the many deaths, which occurred soon afterwards. It has been stated on good authority that nineteen [scholars today place the number at fifteen] immigrants died one night. The survivors, who performed the last acts of kindness to those who perished, were not strong enough to dig the graves sufficient depth to preserve the bodies from the wild beasts, and wolves were actually seen tearing open the graves before the company was out of sight. Many of the survivors, in witnessing the terrible afflictions and loses, became at last almost stupefied or mentally dazed, and did not seem to realize the terrible condition they were in. The suffering from the lack of sufficient food also told on the people. When the first relief teams met the immigrants, there was only one day's quarter ration left in camp.

	When Eph found the helpless emigrants their food supply was nearly exhausted. A half dozen deaths were occurring diary due to the bitter cold and hunger. They had been without help for thirty-six days and even the strongest were beginning to lose hope.
	In the Orme family history, Rebecca Orme, traveling with the Martin Company, recalls the rescue. After portraying a scene of starvation and death, wherein "those who were alive were too weak to dig graves for their dead comrades," she writes:

	One day from the west came a dark spot moving towards the camp. As eagerly they watched, they saw it was a man leading a horse. On arriving he told them he had killed a big, fat buffalo and had put on all of the meat he could for them. All got a piece of meat. Just why that animal had not gone with the rest of its kind to winter quarters will never be known. The man was Ephraim Hanks, the advance man of a relief party sent by Brigham Young to meet them. The news cheered them up; they took on new hopes, but some days passed before the toiling rescuers reached them. Now they began to move on, but slowly; finally they reached Salt Lake City Nov. 9, 1856.

	From an article in an early Church publication entitled, "An Incident in Handcart History," we read of Eph's meeting the emigrants:

	Ephraim Hanks had ridden ahead of the relief teams from Salt Lake City, to locate the belated company, and cheer them up with the welcome news that assistance and provisions were close at hand; for their scant rations were insufficient to satisfy the pains of hunger.
	"Eph" was a unique character. Lithe as an Indian, clad in buckskin from head to feet, the latter being encased in moccasins. He wore a broad brimmed light hat, thrown back in front, and with his light hair, and his face ruddy with health and exposure, he was a picture on which all eyes were riveted.
	He came along, dragging by the bushy end, the tail of an ox that had been slaughtered. As he reached the fire he sprang on the end of one of the logs and swung the tail around over his head, and with a "Hoop! hoopla! hoopee!" let it go right into the fire between the logs. Then stepping from his perch he picked up a small limb, and mounted the log again. Facing the crowd he reached back for his knife and commenced whittling off the twigs from the small bough, and opened a conversation with his new acquaintances:
	"Pretty darned cold o'nights now, boys"--whittling--"and none too warm `er the day time; never mind, perk up, them teams 'll soon reach yer, and they'll bring some flour and bacon with 'em, too;"--still whittling--"When them teams get here, we'll stack them blamed carts and just get for the valley. Yer see, yer ain't used to this kind er life. It don't hurt me, I'm kinder used to it. If I can only get my cayuse under shelter, I kin roll up in a buffalo skin, and sleep snug enuff; a strip of jerked beef will do me for days."
	During this harangue which lasted from fifteen to twenty minutes, his hearers had forgotten all about the ox's tail, but not so with Brother Hanks. He had whittled all the twigs off the limb by this time, and had a pretty good stick, with which he began to poke in the fire. It did not take him long to locate the tail. He then whittled the end of the stick to a point, and sticking it into the fleshy part, brought it out smoking hot, no hair on it this time. Hanks then held it on the stick for a few minutes, chuckled and laughed, till it got cool enough to handle, then he took hold of it at both ends, and commenced his meal, tearing off pieces of that roasted tail with his teeth, with a relish which made all the onlookers smile, and forget their sorrows; and the sunlight of hope rested down upon their tired and weary souls, for a while, at least.
	There is much praise due Ephraim Hanks and hundreds of other brave and forceful men, who in those hard and trying times, aided in establishing this inland empire, and did their best to loosen the little stone and start it rolling.

	Their strength and spirits being temporarily revived by the arrival of the supply wagons, the emigrants continued to Fort Bridger where they again ran low of provisions. Tom Dobson records how Eph managed to replenish their meat supply while there:

	We had eaten our last food. It seemed we would starve. We made a fire and drew the carts around in a circle. One old lady had kept a bantam rooster, shared her rations with it and carried it in a box. It was her pet. After the fire was lighted Hanks said, "Granny, get your rooster and let him run around the fire to crow." The Indians had never seen a tame chicken, and this little bantam rooster was a great curiosity, The Indians finally brought their chief to see the rooster crowing with all his might as only a bantam can. Hanks finally traded the rooster to the Indians for two beef steers and two ponies. The steers were butchered. That night, tongues, livers, hearts, and brains made those starving emigrants a glorious dinner... Now I'm an old man and I wanted to tell you this because all who came through with that emigrant party owe their lives to Eph Hanks.

	Evidently, at least one other who was with the Martin Company credits Eph with saving many lives during the handcart ordeal. While at Fort Bridger on November 23, Josiah Rogerson, Sr. notes an especially difficult night:

	Rather a pleasant day, though somewhat cloudy. Snowed again tonight, camped close to the stockade fort and log houses at Fort Bridger, Wyoming. The exceeding cold night at the Red Buttes, on the North Platte; Devil's Gate, on the Sweetwater and our housing up in Martin's Cove are carved in the memory of every living and surviving veteran today, but this was the "Black Friday" night of them all. The children moaned and cried the livelong night. It froze hard and the wind had a full sweep at us here, so much so that but very few of the adult members of our company could keep warm or get any sleep at all and about midnight, hearing the strains of a violin start up, we got out of our blankets and went to a fire a few paces from our tent and there, sure enough, was the daring and fearless express rider and mountaineer, Eph Hanks, with Lewis Robinson [Robison] surrounded by a score of the young boys of our company and worn-out aged and freezing veterans. Hanks and Robinson beat and kept time to the strains of the fiddle by clapping their hands and stamping their feet, while one of the valley teamsters (from Salt Lake) was cutting the "pigeon's wing" on the hind end gate of a wagon box. Possibly a little "valley-tan" may have been in one or two of their ankles, which was not out of place at all, for around the fire we were all freezing on one side and burning on the other.

	Then on the following day, November 24, Rogerson recorded:

	Made an early start for the Muddy, said to be some eighteen or twenty miles, and being piloted by the faithful Hanks onto a pretty dry ground, encircled by a forest of aspens and pine.

	Several notices of the rescue appeared in the Journal History of the Church shortly after the event.

	While on the Sweetwater Eph Hanks was met one day. He had left his wagon behind him and came on alone on horseback and had managed to kill a buffalo. Some others of the relief parties, further this way, had come to the conclusion, that the rear companies of the emigration had perished in the snow but Eph was determined to go along, even though alone and see for himself.

	An editorial appearing shortly after the event in the Deseret News, the official Church publication, reads:

	Br. Ephraim Hanks has put a feather in his cap through his noble conduct in aiding our belated immigration, he has unsheathed his sword upon the side of doing good, and I exhort him not to sheath it again.

	By the time the handcart emigrants, along with the relief wagons, reached Salt Lake City in November 30th, an estimated 222 deaths had occurred. In addition to these fatalities, scores of pioneers were crippled for life from frostbite and exposure.
	Eph's success in attending the sick and dying handcart pioneers earned him the title of "Dr. Hanks." Because these healings have already been discussed at length in Chapter Five perhaps it will suffice here to quote historian Roberts in summarizing Eph's contribution:

	Exteriorly Hanks was a rough mountaineer but at heart a gentle and sympathetic nature and a man with great faith in God withal; and many are the traditions of the effectiveness of his administrations among the sick and especially among the exhausted and frostbitten emigrants of these handcart companies.

	On the last page of Josiah Rogerson's daily journal that he kept throughout the wintery nightmare detailed above, he acknowledges the lifesaving assistance a small group of dedicated pioneers from the Salt Lake Valley gave. Eph is given special recognition.

	Before closing I wish to mention the names of the heroes and hardy pioneers that were instrumental in saving one or two hundred of our lives and whose record for self sacrifice and courage is almost incomparable.
	At the head of the list stands the late General R. T. Burton, George D. Grant Sr., and one of his sons named George D. Grant, Jr., then William H. Kimball, eldest son of the late Heber C. Kimball, and his younger brother, David P. Kimball; then the brave and generous Ephraim Hanks, who deserves the second place if not the first in the list.

	Eleven days after arriving with the handcart pioneers in Salt Lake City, Eph was again on his way back over the same route with a special mail delivery. Accompanied by Feramorz Little and outfitted with pack and saddle animals, he left the Mormon capital on December 11, 1856, and after an incredible trip of seventy-eight days through snow and mud, arrived in Independence, February 27.
	Upon arrival in Independence, the couriers soon learned that charges made by former disgruntled Utah Territorial appointees against the Mormons were creating a national stir in the east. Feeling an obligation to defend the Church from the allegations, Hanks and Little traveled to New York City where the influential newspapers of the nation were located. Their efforts to counter specific conspiracy and treason charges against the Church resulted in a letter addressed to the New York Herald, the first paragraph of which read:

	Merchants Hotel, N.Y., April 15, 1857

Editor Herald:

	Sir:--as Mr. E. K. Hanks and myself are the last persons who have come to the States from Great Salt Lake City, I deem it my duty to bear testimony against the lying scribblers who seem to be doing their utmost to stir up a bad feeling against the Utonians. We left our homes on the 11th of December, brought the last mail to the States and certainly should know the state of things there. The charges of Judge Drummond are false as he is corrupt.

	Returning to Independence to pick up several tons of mail that had accumulated for their return trip to the valley, the couriers were further alarmed upon meeting men who were there awaiting government contracts to outfit the Utah Expedition. Anxious to report what they had seen and heard, the mail carriers left the frontier town on June 1st, and with their heavily laden wagons hurried for home.
	Although according to most accounts, Brigham Young first received news of the Utah Expedition on July 24, 1857, from Abraham O. Smoot, Porter Rockwell, and Judson Stoddard, who had interrupted an eastern trip to return to Utah with the war news, it is probable that he knew of the affair about one month earlier. Realizing the importance of warning the valley population of the Army's approach, Hanks and Little traveled to Salt Lake City in the amazing time of "inside twenty three days;" the shortest time on record. Having left Independence on June 1st, they arrived in Salt Lake City June 23,  a full month before Smoot and company. It seems highly improbable they would not have immediately discussed the eastern state of affairs with Brigham Young. It is also of interest to note that Smoot met the Utah bound couriers at Fort Laramie as he was traveling east, but it was not until he saw his first government supply wagon one hundred miles from Independence that he made a hasty retreat for home with the warning. Why did he not return to the valley with the couriers, providing, of course, that he was informed of the war news? And if he was not informed, why wasn't he? Did Smoot have to see the troops to believe they were coming? The answers, though unknown, do provoke interesting speculation. According to B. H. Roberts, after Smoot delivered his news to Brigham Young, who along with others, was celebrating the 24th of July in Big Cottonwood Canyon, "the peace and joyousness of the occasion was not disturbed. Then it was not until late afternoon when Daniel H. Wells mentioned the coming of the Army to those assembled. The rather tempered reaction might lend support to the idea that the war news may not have come as a complete shock to the Mormon leaders.
	When Brigham Young ordered the Utah Militia into action against the approaching government troops, Eph was ready for his new assignment. As early as May 1851, he held the rank of sergeant in the Utah Militia at which time, along with Lot Smith, he was appointed color bearer in the lifeguards. Although he was soon promoted to lieutenant, one of his first assignments following that promotion in 1853 must have proved embarrassing to him. In that year Brigham Young sent Major James Fergeson with a force of militiamen, including "Lieutenant" Ephraim Hanks and William Hickman to Fort Bridger to ascertain if Jim Bridger was provoking the Indians to kill the Mormons as had been reported. Bridger, having been warned of their approach, wasn't there when the troops arrived. However, a renegade, Elisha Ryan, who was recognized as the chief of the organized band of desperadoes who was at that time beating up a war party to carry on his nefarious work of robbery," was arrested and placed in the hands of Ephraim Hanks, William Hickman and several others for removal to Salt Lake City. 
	Hickman reports that upon arrival at the Fort, they didn't find any weapons or ammunition as expected, but they did find a large supply of whiskey and rum which "was destroyed by doses." 
	Before leaving for Salt Lake City, the escort filled their canteens with rum. Eph, who was in charge of the party, was also "full of rum," according to Hickman, who continues to relate the adventure:

	We intended to travel forty miles before we slept, but when night came on it was very dark. The canteens made things lively until we came to some brush, when the prisoner, Elisha Ryan, slipped off his horse, and in an instant was in the brush out of sight. We searched for him an hour or two and sent two of the party back to Fort Bridger, while Hanks and myself came on to the city and made our report.

	In a letter written to Fergeson, Daniel H. Wells remarked, "I am a little astonished at Ryan's escape."
	But now, four years later, the Utah militia faced what must have been their greatest challenge as they prepared to defend their homes against an invading army. Heeding the order of General Wells to "take no life, but destroy their trains, and stamped or drive away their animals, at every opportunity. Eph and others began a war of harassment. Regretfully, little is known of Eph's involvement in the campaign other than several unrelated incidents. On November 2, he joined Major Snow's command at Black's Fork with thirty-five mounted men. The next few days he spent reconnoitering troops with a force of twenty-five men and, on November 6, "Hanks came in with 75 head of cattle," taken from the army. Even though the author has found little reported material about his activities in the war, they were likely numerous and exciting, for Kimball writes:

	Perhaps no subordinate military man connected with the `Mormon' Church, played a more prominent part of the so-called Echo Canyon War, during the winter of 1857-58, than did Elder Ephraim K. Hanks.

	During the campaign, he was a successful spy, ferreting out information from teamsters and soldiers alike. His fearless eavesdropping escapades evidently discouraged even some of his more hardy compatriots. One dark night he crawled so near to the army officers' tents that the cook unwittingly threw scraps from the general's table over him.
	Another similar incident is noted by N. C. Hanks:

	A cook had a huge pot of coffee cooking on a campfire near a clump of willows. When it was ready to serve, Hanks cut a forked willow, hooked it into the bail of the coffee pot, and hoisted the coffee into the brush. It was served for the scouts' supper.

	In April 1858, Governor Cumming, who was camped with the Army at Camp Scott, was persuaded by Thomas L. Kane to visit Brigham Young in Salt Lake City for a peace conference. Little did these two dignitaries know that before reaching the Valley they would be safely protected in their journey by several of the most feared "Mormon desperadoes." John Kay records this little known incident:

	...Accordingly, on the 5th April, they left Bridger with two carriages, and each a servant. They traveled about 15 miles, upset one of the carriages in the snow, and there stuck for the night. It so happened that William H. Kimball, Ephraim K. Hanks, Orrin P. Rockwell, Howard Egan and myself, with a few other good boys, were out scouting in that vicinity, and on the morning of the 6th April we took the governor and his small party under our protection and brought them safe to this place.

	Following the Utah War, Eph moved to a ranch located twelve miles east of Salt Lake City between Big and Little Mountains. He named it Mountain Dell. There he established a trading post and a stage station. It also eventually became a Pony Express shop. Eph's reputation for serving boiled badger and "Mountain Dell Cub" to unsuspecting stage passengers at his inn, was well known.
	According to N. C. Hanks it was also at Mountain Dell that Eph and a  trapper friend challenged each other to the mountaineer game of "back out." Learning that a mother grizzly bear had been seen in a canyon nearby, the two frontiersmen followed her trail until it ended in a thicket. The contest was to kill the bear using only a knife. Eph's guest and his dogs had the first turn at subduing the animal, but in attempting to use his knife, he tussled with the bear at such close quarters she tore the shirt from his back. When Eph's turn came, he tied his hunting knife to the end of a long sapling. Then using his knife as a spear, with repeated thrust he succeeded in killing the animal while remaining at long range. After this encounter, the Ute Indians rechristened him "Queant," meaning bear.
	Mountain Dell was also the scene of an unpleasant experience for the controversial Governor of Utah Territory, John W. Dawson. Twenty-four days after his arrival in Salt Lake City he was secretly on his way out of the territory again after a turbulent stay. On the evening of December 31, 1862, he arrived at Mountain Dell. The following day Dimick B. Huntington, who viewed the episode, told the following account at the Church Historian's Office:

	When Governor Dawson arrived at Eph Hanks and Wood Reynolds had changed the horses to go on, the governor came to get in, when Reynolds knocked him down. The governor run into the house with Reynolds following him and there beat Governor Dawson nearly to death and Reynolds left him in his gore. Reynolds, who was a teamster of Tom Collins, whipped Dawson because of his insult to Mrs. Williams and also for insulting the woman at Eph Hanks'.

	When business at Mountain Dell dropped off abruptly following the completion of the new road through Parley's Canyon, Eph moved to Parley's Park, now Park City, where he lived until the outbreak of the Black Hawk War in 1865.
	On April 5, 1862, Eph married Thisbe Read, the young handcart girl whom he had nursed back to health on the Sweetwater five years before. At age seventeen she became his fourth and last wife, and the only one to live with him in his later life. Eph, who was now thirty-six years old was to father twelve children by Thisbe.
	While living in the vicinity of what is now known as Park City, Eph discovered silver ore in 1870. He is thus credited with not only being the first to mine the precious metal in that area, but with being the father of Park City, as well. In a Utah newspaper published just after the turn of the century, we read:

	Thirty-six years ago Ephraim Hanks was a farmer in the neighborhood of Coalville... He was tired of the routine of planting, and watering, and cultivating, and harvesting... So, on a spring day in 1870, he left the plow in the furrow and set his face toward the hills.
	...Eph Hanks, farmer, was a farmer no longer. He was a prospector. He walked over into what is now Park City mining district and chipped a few chunks of rock off an outcropping. The stuff showed high values of silver and lead and Eph Hanks organized a company. The claim was called the Green Monster... At any rate Eph Hanks was the father of Park City. The success of the Green Monster was noised abroad and location followed location in rapid order. The McHenry, in the McHenry Canyon was the second in Park City district. Next in order came the Walker and Webster and the Pinyon.
	The mine that made Park City famous, however, was not discovered until January 19, 1872.

	In 1877 Eph sold his Park City property when Brigham Young suggested he buy Lee's Ferry on the Colorado River and settle there. But the Church president died before he could make the move and Eph was advised by the new acting president of the church, John Taylor, to move to Grass Valley near Fish Lake, Utah.
	Thus begins the final chapter of Eph's life; the only settled one he knew. At age fifty-one he was now content to be a rancher, an avocation which three decades before he had given up for more adventuresome life.

 	Chapter 8

	"EPH, THE NEFARIOUS VILLAIN"

	Before focusing on the last two and one half decades of Eph's life that he lived as a rancher in a remote area of southern Utah, we should in all fairness attempt an examination of our subject through non-Mormon eyes. Those who knew him only by reputation wrote and spoke of him as a desperado and a vile villain. He was supposedly one of Brigham Young's "Destroying Angels," and a man to be feared. Eastern periodicals labeled him a killer. Local anti-Mormon writers, including some apostate Mormons, accused him of various crimes, including "holy  murder." 
	Eph was disparagingly linked with the supposed Danite organization in early Utah, and at least two sources included him in the "Be'boys" group. Hosea Stout, in his journal on March 8, 1853, records the following:

	Col. (Thomas L.) Kane, accompanied by Egan, Rockwell, Hanks, and several others of the "Be'boys" left for the United States troups (sic) camp to go by the upper Weber Route.

	In 1853 the "Be'boys" we also referred to by James Fergeson, so they were evidently either a specific group as Stout and Fergeson imply, or the term was simply a general name applied to the rougher element. According to Historian Edward Tullidge, there were those in the Nauvoo Legion who "were detailed to perform special duties. Among these were O. P. Rockwell, Ephraim Hanks, and many others." Apostate Mormon William Hickman also refers to the same general group whom he calls "Brigham's Boys." The anti-Mormon writer J. H. Beadle lists the top three candidates meriting infamous recognition among the Mormons as being `Port Rockwell, `Ephe' Hanks, and `Bill Hickman. Eph is also listed along with Rockwell, Hickman and others by Mary Ettie V. Smith as being "the Mormon rowdies." It is of interest to note Eph Hanks and Orrin Porter Rockwell are the ones consistently mentioned in this group. Although Eph and Bill Hickman were classed as two of the "triumvirate," with Porter Rockwell as the third member, there is evidence they did not get along. Evidently they were only linked together by notoriety for they were not pals. Whatever Eph's involvement in the charges made against him there is little doubt as to his reputation even among his peers. A mountaineer named Powell, for example, attempted to stir up Indian Chief Little Soldier to committing depredations. Powell had killed a Mormon at Salmon River and bragged about it to the chief. But when Powell and his compatriots were told, "Ephraim Hanks was out and was going to catch them they eloped in the night." Evidently Eph was trusted with special assignments by the church leaders, as was Porter Rockwell on occasion. These missions do appear to be other than militia assignments.
	Only one specific charge of misconduct against Eph has come to light, and that involved a boy, Andrew Bernard, also called "Dummy." An article appearing in an 1859 edition of the Harper's Weekly details the story.

	Dummy, as the boys was called, was the son of a poor Mormon widow. He was simple almost to idiocy. His poverty and misfortunes had enlisted the sympathies of the whole gentile community who delighted in giving him alms.

	Andrew apparently turned up missing, for on December 10, 1858, the following article appeared in Kirk Anderson's Valley Tan:

	What has become of that deaf and dumb boy that used to be around the streets? He has been missing now for two or three weeks. We have heard it rumored that he had "gone under."

	The following day an anonymous letter was written to the Valley Tan, chiding them for such `impertinent inquiries.' The letter, written either by a crank or someone knowledgeable about Bernard's disappearance, was explicit:

	I will inform you that he has been permanently and decently planted, about one and a half miles north of your office; in a place called a Cemetery--where if you desire you can find him.

	The reason for his death was also given in the letter:

	It was necessary for his salvation, that his existence on earth be abbreviated, and consequently his sudden transition from this to a better world.

	After further strongly implying that Bernard's demise was religiously justified, the letter suggests the newspaper no longer "make itself objectionable by heralding such things."
	Two months later the full story was published by Harper's Weekly and given wide circulation through the East. According to their account, a "committee consisted of Christiansen and Eph Hanks" were responsible for the boy's death. The article explained further how Bernard had been stealing from local merchants and burying his treasure near Mountain Dell. Christiansen, who was a policeman, evidently after accusing Bernard of the thefts shot him three times.

	The bleeding body was then thrown on a load of wood and conveyed to an obscure canyon where the work of death was completed by cutting his throat from ear to ear, Eph Hanks assisting by hold his head.

	There is some evidence that the story is not wholly fictitious, for there was a policeman named Christiansen, who, on January 1, 1859, was tried before a United States attorney Wilson for a "Danite" murder, but was released. There is no other piece of evidence available to implicate him.
	Possibly the most revealing, and also the most objective description of Eph was rendered by the noted English scholar and adventurer, Richard F. Burton, who met him at Mountain Dell while enroute to Salt Lake City in August, 1860. Already aware of Eph's reputation, Burton evidently thought the encounter important enough to leave us the following word picture of him in his book City of the Saints.

	Presently, the stationmaster, springing from his light `sulky,' entered, and was formally introduced to us by Mr. McCarthy as Mr. Eph Hanks. I had often heard of this individual as one of the old triumvirate of Mormon desperadoes, the other two being Orrin Porter Rockwell and Bill Hickman--as the leader of the dreaded Danite band, and, in short, as a model ruffian. The ear often teaches the eye to form its pictures: I had eliminated a kind of mental sketch of those assassin faces which one sees on the Apennines and Pyrenees, and was struck by what met the eye of sense. The `vile villain,' as he has been called by anti-Mormon writers, who verily do not try to menager their epithets, was a middle sized, light haired, good looking man, with regular features, a pleasant and humorous countenance, and the manly manner of his early sailor life, touched with the rough cordiality of the mountainer (sic) `Frank as a bear hunter' is a proverb in these lands. He had, like most men (Anglo-Americans of the desperate courage and fiery, excitable temper), a clear, pale blue eye, verging upon gray, and looking as if it wanted nothing better than to light up, together with a cool and quiet glance that seemed to shun neither friend nor foe...

	Error! Reference source not found.Chapter 9

	FRUIT TREES AND AN OFFERING

	When Eph, upon the advice of President John Taylor, moved to southern Utah in 1877 with his wife Thisbe and children, he settled in a picturesque box canyon on Pleasant Creek in what is now eastern Wayne County. Here he planted more than two hundred fruit trees, built corrals and sheds for the animals, and planted crops. He was a farmer at last. He called his new home Floral Ranch.
	According to family tradition, these were happy years for Eph although not easy ones. Money was scarce and when in February 1887, his oldest son, Walter, was called on a mission to the Northern States; Eph was unable to provide his railway fare to Chicago. Although sixty one years old at the time, Eph prepared to ride with Walter to the Illinois capital on horseback and return. It was not until friends presented Walter with forty dollars at the last minute that the boy was able to go by train.
	While living at Floral Ranch, Eph's reputation for healing soon spread and his services were then in demand throughout the community of southern Utah settlements. Walter's wife, Mary Ellen Hanks, accompanied Eph on many of his errands to the sick. She records visiting Isabel Dalton, who lived in Mesa, a small community near Caineville, Utah. Although Mrs. Dalton had been under a doctor's care for some time, she continued to grow weaker until he was unable to do any more for her and consequently sent her home to die with her family. Upon hearing of her condition, Eph requested permission to administer to her. Following the ordinance, according to Mary Ellen, she was healed. She bore two more children following her recovery.
	Under the date of February 8, 1930, George W. Carrell wrote a letter to Sidney Alvarus Hanks in which he relates a similar experience involving Eph:

	He performed many instant healings. I will relate one that has always been a great testimony to me. It was in June 1894. My wife was very sick and had been for several days. It seemed that her days upon this earth were numbered. She asked to have Brother Hanks, your father, administer to her but he was supposed to be in Hanksville, fifteen miles away. We were preparing to send for him when, about eleven o'clock the door opened and he walked in, immediately going over to the bed of my sick wife and saying, `You are sick, aren't you? Just as I thought. Where is your oil?'
	She told him where it was, and he walked over and picked up the oil himself. Then he laid his hands upon her head and administered to her. He said, `Sister Carrell, now you are made well by the power of God. I am very weak and hungry. Please get up and get me something to eat.'
	She arose from her bed and did as he bid her. This was a miraculous healing for it was done instantly. We all know it was through inspiration that he was guided to the house and through the spirit of the Lord that she had been healed.
	On another occasion he came after me to go with him as he was called to administer to a little crippled boy. The cords in the boy's leg were drawn backward, making him a total cripple. I anointed him. Your father, sealing the anointing, promised the boy he should get up and walk, also run and jump like a roe. The boy was healed almost immediately and he did run and jump and play. There are many other cases I have seen healed under his hands. I could talk to you all day on this subject and the many other wonderful things your father did.

	Prayer continued to be a practical reality in Eph's later life, and he passed his pragmatic understanding of this principle on to his sons. While living at Floral Ranch, Sidney relates how his brother Walter disappointed his father by missing a deer after firing three shots at it. "Father's gray blue eyes snapped as he turned to Walter and said, `I'm surprised at your throwing away all that ammunition...' Then he calmly went on, `Did you think to pray before you went after that deer?' Walter spoke the truth when he said he had not."
	Continuing the account, Sidney explains:

	A few years later, Father and I went up on the mountain hunting deer. We sighted a small herd quite a distance	away. I stayed with the horses while Father slipped from his saddle and noiselessly worked his way toward the game. He was quite a distance from me when I noticed that he dropped to his knees for a moment. I too bowed by head. Then he arose and, taking aim, brought down the largest buck that I have ever seen in my life. It was necessary for us to throw our burro and tie him securely down while we loaded the deer on top of him. When it was tied on, both of us had to help the burro up with the heavy load.

	While driving a wagon through King's Meadow Canyon in these later years, Eph met another outfit drawn by a young boy traveling down the canyon toward Salina. When the two drivers stopped to chat the boy recognized Eph as the one who had saved his father's life during the Martin Handcart rescue twenty years before. "Father says he owed his life to the Lord and to you," the boy explained. "You thawed out his frozen limbs with ice water, remember?" After a brief visit to the lad's home a few miles away, Eph again started for Floral Ranch, but now he had a new team and a new wagon loaded with supplies. He had not been forgotten.
	Eph served his church faithfully throughout his life. After having been ordained a Seventy while living in Salt Lake City, he served as president of his ward quorum. President John Taylor later ordained him a High Priest, and on August 28, 1893, Apostle Brigham Young, Jr., ordained him a Patriarch, at age 67. During his first two years as Patriarch to the Wayne Stake he gave 120 blessings and "had taught the gospel to his fellowmen continually."
	Eph assumed the role of stake patriarch with little difficulty. In studying summaries of his talks recorded by ward and stake clerks over a three-year period, his new calling apparently suited him well. As a speaker he was unique. Because of a propensity to liberally flavor his talks with the experiences and adventures he had lived, his speaking style, according to Dave Rust, was not unlike that of J. Golden Kimball. His favorite themes were fasting and prayer, following the counsel of church authorities, and missionary work. In the minute book recording the Loa Stake Conference held February 1894, is recorded:
	
	Patriarch E. K. Hanks thought it wise to watch as well as pray. Related one experience encountered during the Johnson (sic) Army War illustrating the necessity of being watchful... spoke upon the necessity of being self-sustainance (sic)... Every Elder should be a Prophet and Patriarch to his family. Asked for the prayers of the Saints and encouraged them to keep commandments of God. Related a dream the Lord gave him years ago demonstrating the way the Lord makes provisions for his Saints in time of need...

	Speaking in a stake conference August 28, 1893, Eph said, "There is no greater honor than to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. Encourage the youth to prepare themselves for foreign missions." In November 1863, Eph promised the membership "if they would keep the counsel of the apostles they would never lack for bread." Again, at a Loa Stake conference a year before his death in 1895, Eph reveals some basic beliefs that served him well during his lifetime. Following is the clerk's resume of the talk.

	This is the Kingdom of God established upon the earth and we must be obedient to those who are placed in authority over us or be held accountable. We have the priesthood and we all may be prophets, seers, and revelators by being obedient. This is what will save us... We must learn and understand the gospel here or it is impossible to return to father. We are edged in and if we let down the bars then we have the devil into our affairs... Illustrated this principle by his experience in early days.

	Even though Eph was always ready to follow counsel at least on one occasion, in earlier days, he succeeded in a bit of chicanery which influenced the brethren to withhold a call for which he was being considered.
	In the 1870's he was seriously being considered for the office of bishop in a small town south of Salt Lake City. Whatever his reason for not wanting the job, Eph felt he should take some initiative in the matter. Learning that the brethren were meeting on a Saturday night to decide the question, Eph resorted to role-playing as he had so often done in other emergencies. Tying tin cans to his horse's tail, he rode up and down the street in front of the chapel, hollering unintelligible things, while the church officials met inside. The following day he must have smiled to himself when the stake president selected another man for the position. It is the writer's contention that had Eph been called to be a bishop he probably would have accepted the call otherwise his advice to follow the brethren would have sounded empty indeed.
	Eph's willingness to accept counsel from the brethren has already been demonstrated in earlier chapters of this paper. The following account further emphasizes this point. While his son suggested living at Floral Ranch it to Eph, Walter, who was also his bishop at the time, that he move to Caineville. Looking his son in the eye, Eph said, "Is this my son Walter who is asking this or is it the bishop of the Caineville Ward?" When told it was the bishop speaking, Eph moved from his fine ranch home to Caineville for the winter as advised.
	If there were a turning point in Eph's life when he reflected seriously about his life, it must have been in the spring of 1893, just before his call to be patriarch of the Wayne Stake. It had been a meatless winter for the hardy pioneer, so when he traveled to a gristmill near Bicknell, Utah, that spring, and the miller offered him a freshly butchered hog, he cooked and ate the meat throughout the night. By morning Eph had eaten so much he was too sick to start for home, and so rapidly did his condition worsen that within days his life hung in the balance.
	While recovering at home from this near fatal experience, his family recalls his rather somber and contemplative mood. Whatever his thinking at the time, he had resolved to make a tribute to the Lord. Perhaps it was a token of thanksgiving that his life had been recently spared. Or, perhaps, he knew of his patriarchal calling at the time and wishes to rededicate his life to that service. Whatever the reason, Eph selected his two finest animals, `Old Darb,' his prize bull, and his largest steer, to offer as a sacrifice. It was not until weeks later that they were found by the children in the hills where they had been shot through the head and the meat left to spoil. Although the children and neighbors grieved the loss Eph never offered an explanation for their death. It was not until after his death that his wife, Thisbe, to whom he had confided concerning the tribute, revealed how the animals had died.

	Error! Reference source not found.Chapter 10

	EPH REVISITED

	At first glance the life of Eph Hanks may appear to be a contradiction. How it is possible that a tough mountaineer like Eph, with a reputation of being a vile villain and one of the three most feared Mormon desperadoes, could also be a compassionate healer of the sick as well as a dedicated churchman. Is it really ironical? This writer thinks not. To understand Eph we must see him as part of his environment. We must first appreciate the tenor of the times before we can judge the deeds of the man. In looking at the sources that influenced the molding of Eph's unsavory reputation, one is not surprised at the outcome of the accusations made against him by apostate and non-Mormons alike, none of which was ever proven. As a matter of fact, only one specific charge was ever made and that was in the case of Andrew Bernard, and that by an eastern periodical thousands of miles away. If there was evidence against Eph, why is there no mention of it in any of the local anti-Mormon publications? This writer has found none.
	It would appear that Eph's reputation as a rugged frontiersman and a personal courier to Brigham Young was largely distorted in favor of sensational journalism and anti-Mormon sentiments of the day. There is also probably little question that the air of mystery surrounding the doctrine of blood atonement in the church helped give flight to the imaginations of many who professed to the existence of Brigham's `Destroying Angels.'
	On the other hand, we have noted numerous carefully documented sources portraying Eph in quite a different light. Even during the latter part of the 1850's and 1860's, when his villainous reputation was at its zenith, Eph's disposition for good appeared to be unwavering. Note the following account reported by Alonzo A. Hinckley:
	
	In the early days of San Bernardino, California, the boys were celebrating and "whooping it up" in the general store. Francis M. Lyman was in especially gay spirits and had become quite boisterous, urging the boys to further celebration. Drinking and carousing were at their height when Francis took down a bolt to yellow cloth off a shelf, unfolded yard after yard, and wrapped and wound it around him in preparation for marching with the crowd.
	Ephraim K. Hanks had been watching the confused scene and now he made his way to the young man, took his arm and said quietly, "Francis, think of your mother."
	The boy grew serious and the celebration moderated. Brother Hanks reminded him of his heritage and suggested that he abstain from behavior of a reckless kind of future.
	Francis obeyed this advice and always gave Ephraim K. Hanks the credit for his success. As Apostle Hinckley concluded his story, he said that this was probably the turning point in the life of Francis.

	In appreciation for this timely advice, Francis Lyman, upon learning of Eph's death, generously provided the headstone for Eph's grave. Eph Hanks was not a contradiction. If anything he was a simple man at heart whose rugged abilities and gift of faith contributed measurably to the history of the mountain west and the Mormon colonization effort. His influence for good touched the lives of hundreds.
	During the years following his brush with death, Eph continued to be a concern to his family. Although he was well enough to work the farm and attend to his church activities, he continued to slowly lose his strength. The body that he had repeatedly pushed to the breaking point during more than fifty thousand miles of travel seemed at last to be responding to the years of abuse. Realizing that Eph was failing rapidly, Thisbe arranged a surprise birthday party and family reunion in his honor on March 20, 1896. Twenty-eight family members assembled at Floral Ranch for the celebration. N. C. Hanks writes concerning the occasion:

	Refreshments were served after which Brother Hanks exhorted all to be honest, virtuous, and live upright lives, always praying so that they might always walk in the light of the gospel. He selected some of his experiences, and bore a powerful testimony to the truth of the gospel.

	A week following his birthday Eph was thrown from a horse he was breaking in and was put to bed with a severe pain in his head. Following a brief period of intense suffering he rallied somewhat for several days until the pain spread to his legs which then became numb. On June 9, blood poisoning spread throughout his body and at three o'clock that afternoon he died in the arms of his son, Walter. He was seventy years old.
	Friends gathered from throughout the area to pay him homage. Even though the obituary notice that appeared in the Deseret News was a fitting soliloquy to his life, the gesture that probably would have pleased Eph most was the guard of 1,000 Indians who stood rimming the ledges above the ranch in silent tribute who stood rimming the ledges above the ranch in silent tribute to their friend and benefactor. Neither had they forgotten. It was indeed a fitting last tribute to a redoubtable pioneer whose memory it is hoped might shine a little brighter now that his story has come to light.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

	A. PRIMARY SOURCES

Beadle, J. H. Life in Utah. Chicago: National Publishing Company, 1870.

Black, William Morley. Letter. In possession of Sidney A. Hanks, Glendale, 	California.

Brooks, Juanita. (ed.) On the American Frontier, The Diaries of Hosea Stout. Salt 	Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1965.

Hanks, Arthur E.  Personal interview. August 15, 1958.

Hanks, Ephraim K.  Papers. Arthur Hanks Collection. Provo, Utah.

__________. Sidney Hanks Collection. Glendale, California.

__________. Teton Jackman Hanks. Provo, Utah.

Hickman, Bill. Brigham's Destroying Angel. Salt Lake City: Shepard Publishing 	Company, 1904.

Horne, Flora Bean. Autobiography of George Washington Bean and his Family 	Records. Salt Lake City: Utah Printing Company, 1945.

"Journal History of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints," 1850-1896. 	LDS Church Historian's Office, Salt Lake City, Utah.

Lee, Grant M.  Letter to Ephraim K. Hanks, November 17, 1944. In possession 	of Ephraim K. Hanks, Saratoga, California.

Little, Feramorz. Journal. Bancroft Library, Berkeley, California.

Official Correspondence in the Utah Territorial Militia Records Section. Utah State 	Archives, Salt Lake City, Utah.

Official Report of the . . . Wayne County Stake Conference of the Church of Jesus 	Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1893-1895. Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus 	Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Rogerson, Josiah, Sr.  Diary. LDS Church Historian's Office, Salt Lake City, 	Utah.

Rust, Dave.  Personal Interview. May 4, 1956.

Smith, Mary Ettie. Fifteen Years Among the Mormons. New York: H. Dayton, 	1860.

Taylor, Allen. Letter to  Walter E. Hanks, December 29, 1890. Original in 	possession of Sidney A. Hanks, Glendale, California.

Watt, G. D., and others (reporters). Journal of Discourses. Vol. IV. London: 	Latter-day Saints Book Depot, 1854-1886.

Young, Brigham. Manuscript History. LDS Church Historian's Office, Salt Lake 	City, Utah.

Young, John R.  Papers. MSS in possession of Sidney A. Hanks, Glendale, 	California.

	B. NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS

The Contributor (Salt Lake City), 1893.

Harper's Weekly (New York), 1859.

Juvenile Instructor (Salt Lake City), 1904.

The Improvement Era (Salt Lake City), 1908, 1914, 1915.

Valley Tan (Camp Floyd, Utah), 1858.

	C. SECONDARY SOURCES

Brown, James S.  Giant of the Lord. Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1960.

Hanks, Harriet Decker Little. Descendants of Ephraim K. Hanks. Provo, Utah: 	Copy Cat Printers, 1959.

Hanks, N. C.  Men of the Rockies. New York: N. C. Hanks, 1944.

Hanks, Sidney Alvarus, and Hanks, Ephraim K.  Scouting for the Mormons on the 	Great Frontier. Salt Lake City: Deseret Press, 1948.

Hitchcock, Caroline Hanks. Nancy Hanks. New York: Doubleday and McClure 	Company, 1889.

Jensen, Andrew. "Church Emigration; Ephraim K. Hanks' Narrative," The 	Contributor, XIV (1893), 202-203.

Kimball, Solomon F. "King of the Western Scouts," The Improvement Era, XVIII 	(1914-1915), 103-111, 209-217, 316-325.

_________. "Our Pioneer Boys," The Improvement Era, XI (1908), 839.

Lazenby, Moroni. Personal interview. April 2, 1933.

Little, James H. Biographical Sketch of Feramorz Little. Salt Lake City: Juvenile 	Instructor, 1898.

Roberts, B. H. A Comprehensive History of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-	day Saints. Vol. III, IV. Salt Lake City: Deseret News, 1930.

Tullidge, Edward W. The History of Salt Lake City. Salt Lake City: Edward 	Tullidge, 1886.

________. Tullidge's Histories. Salt Lake City: Juvenile Instructor, 1889.

	EPH HANKS, PIONEER SCOUT

	Richard K. Hanks
	Department of Church History and Doctrine
	M. A. Degree, April 1973

	ABSTRACT

	Ephraim K. Hanks was a rugged frontiersman dedicated to Brigham Young and the Mormon church who underscored his commitment in building the kingdom through courageous feats and daring ingenuity. He was a scout and a frontier mailman, completing fifty round trips between Salt Lake City and the Missouri River. Few men knew that stretch of wilderness better than he. Among non-Mormons he thought to be one of Brigham Young's "Destroying Angels," a "vile villain," and a "Mormon Desperado."
	During the first five decades of the Mormon Church in the Mountain West, he contributed generously to its growth in the fields of Indian affairs, communication, military campaigns, peace keeping, mining and homesteading. He is probably best known for his rescue of the snowbound handcart companies on the Sweetwater in 1856. His major contribution to history lay in his ability to take the dreams of his leaders and spark them into reality. He was singularly suited for this role in a frontier setting. His life experiences are a study of Mormon history highlights during these years.

COMMITTEE APPROVAL: 	Milton V. Backman, Jr., Committee Chairman

					Russell R. Rich, Committee Member

					LaMar C. Berrett, Department Chairman 

	ACKNOWLEDGMENTS	

	The writer gratefully acknowledges the willing assistance rendered him by Dr. Milton V. Backman, Jr., and Dr. Russell R. Rich in the preparation of this thesis. Without their patience and long-suffering this work might not have fruition.
	Also the service rendered by the Church Historian's Office in Salt Lake City for over a decade while researching this project has been invaluable.
	To the scores of relatives and friends who have been plagued with letters and interviews the writer owes a debt of gratitude.
	A special acknowledgment is due the writer's father, E. Kay Hanks, who along with Sidney Alvarus Hanks, initiated this investigation long before the writer's interest in it, and who unselfishly opened their files to him.
	Appreciation is expressed to Carolyn Kirkham for her excellent work in typing the final manuscript.
	And, but for the patience and understanding of his wife, Suzan, during long hours of solitary confinement; the project might yet be in the planning stage.