Another memory I have of early Forsyth is Boothill Cemetery. It was Forsyth's first cemetery, located on a small flat in either the first or second coulee west of the hill where the reservoir was located when I left Forsyth in 1924. It is on the West side of the coulee, and not far from the entrance. The remains of the citizens of the area who were buried there were moved to the new cemetery, but those of the ones for whom it was named are still there since many of their names were unknown. As children, we went up there when we went to the hills to gather flowers in the spring. There were a few graves with names painted on boards or pieces of sandstone.

At the foot of the Reservoir hill, just northeast of the Willis Westaby home, there used to be a spring where the wagon trains camped. There were a great number of black circles on the ground. When my sister and I went over to play with our friends on the south side, we played a game called ring tag. Whoever was "it" had to catch one of the others as they ran from one ring to another. The rings were left by folks of the wagon trains when they set, or tightened, their steel wagon tires. A great many wagons must have stopped there as the ground has to be level to set a tire perfectly and such rings are used over and over again by later trains. They are black, as old timers or anyone who has used wagons will know, because live embers are piled on the tire on the ground so it can be hammered while red hot to shrink it to fit the wheel. Wood wheels shrink in hot, dry weather.

When traveling in Indian country, it was very important to make sure that wheels were always in good shape. Our family camped every fall and in hot weather, if we came to a fordable stream, my father drove in to swell the wood of the wheels. At a spring or any water hole, the wheels were covered with wet sacks and we all took turns carrying water to keep them soaked. On our noon stops to two hours, to rest and feed the horses, the wheels were treated again. It saved many a long chore of resetting the tires. In 1895 or 1896, we camped over seven weeks on a trip through Yellowstone Park.

My parents left Forsyth in the `20's, separately, were married in Seattle 1930. I was born in Los Angeles in `31, left home early 1948, worked on a stock farm in Wyoming, returned to L.A., and enlisted in the Marine Corps in late `48, discharged in `52 and was sworn in as a Deputy Sheriff, L.A. County. They put me out to pasture in `80 on a disability. We sold our house in San Dimas, CA, purchased a few acres in Northern California, had a house built and have been here ever since. We live in the Weimar district of Placer County, just a few miles from the City of Colfax (pop. 1000). It's just off of I-80 in between Sacramento and Reno, Nevada in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Elevation of 2180' so we don't have too much snow to fight.

Information received in a letter in 1989 from my 2nd Cousin John Knox Austin, (son of George Roy Austin who was the brother of Alma, my Grandmother), there are still remains of the old homestead in the Froze-to-Death Valley.

22 February 1993
Letter John Austin to RBW:
John Henry, John Harold, & Lulu buried in Forsyth "Boothill". - - "John Henry's older brother Ray is a mystery? My Mom once told me she thought there had been a family fight? - - No one ever mentioned him to her" - -" The old livery stable is still there as their house in Forsyth, we were there last summer". (1992) Robert B. Wood.