CHAPTER VI.

Cow-Boy History--Mustangs and Broncos--Cow-Boys with

Six-Shooters--Dodge City--Boot Grave-yard--Prairie

Mysteries--Dance-Halls--Sketch of Buffalo Bill--Theory of the

Plains--Trading-House--Antelope Chase--We Prepare for a Mountain

Tour.

Most persons of ordinary information have heard something of the

character of the population of the great American plains, and have

observed that the _cow-boys_ have had their share of attention and

comment. From actual observations made during my long roam upon the

prairies I feel able to contribute a few lines that will no doubt be

interesting to persons who have read such speculative and varied

accounts, and who wish to be well and truly informed.

The great country that has been described as adapted to no other purpose

than stock-raising is necessarily almost exclusively populated with

cow-men; and, without legal restraint, the prairie fairly trembles with

their power. I am personally acquainted with many of the boys; and while

I have many _warm friends_ among them, I also have some _deadly

enemies_. I have studied their dispositions, and, by the instrument of

warmest confidence, have drawn from their bosoms many dark and hidden

secrets. When a person takes into consideration the _position_ and

_surroundings_ of these boys, he is not astonished at the almost

unexceptionably bold, bestial, and immoral character of these creatures

of the broad western wilds. In _civilized_ and _Christianized_ regions,

if a person be disposed to be rough and immoral--though he often meets

those of like disposition and is _encouraged_,--he _must_ and _will_,

from time to time, come in contact with those whom the faintest

throbbings of natural manhood will move him to respect; for instance,

the sweet smile or the soft, silver-toned word from the lips of a kind

female or the address of a noble man. As he walks the streets by the dim

light of the gas-lamp, profaning the Sabbath or planning dark vices, the

sweet strains from the lips of the worshipers away up in the tabernacle

will waft out of the open window upon the soft evening zephyrs and

irresistibly appeal to his faint sensibilities. The voice of the good

minister is heard; and though the heart be mailed with a coat of evil

and the spark of celestial fire called conscience be almost smothered,

these soft influences are felt and are fuel to the fire of man’s natural

sensibilities. And back of all this is the strong hand of the law,

backed by public sentiment, with which the latitude of man’s privileges

is measured out. The checks are so many and so great that it is some

time before the conscience of man can be overcome by the rolling waves

of immoral and iniquitous temptations. But it is quite otherwise in the

unsettled country where the musical strains do not reach nor the words

of the gospel sound, and where the sweet influence of womanhood is not

shed, and worst of all, where the _law_ is the _will_ and the might

makes the right. There is nothing to stay the degeneration into which

mankind is naturally so prone to drift; and in several years’ life with

such surroundings the sensibilities of man become as callous as a stone.

The very atmosphere is impregnated with profanity, and new-comers can

seldom resist the epidemic. Many of these boys stay alone away out upon

distant ranges for several months at a stretch without seeing a human

being, with the howl of the wolf and the angry growl of the wild beasts

constantly floating upon the prairie breeze, and the monotony broken

now and then by the war-whoop of the treacherous red-man, who cruises

upon the plain beneath his white plume, seeking the lives and scalps of

the lone boys. The effect of a life in the open air, and a diet of wild

meats, together with the influences of an unsettled country, I have

already felt by actual experience; and he who has described the

wickedness and boldness of the cow-boy in the strongest language I will

assure you is not guilty of exaggeration, for indeed they are savages.

They do most all their work upon horseback; and being in the saddle

every day, they are so expert at equestrianism that it is amusing to see

them ride. They walk so little that the muscles of their legs are very

weak, and on foot they can do very little. They always keep a pony

picketed close by, and if they want to go a quarter of a mile the pony

is saddled.

The bronco is a California pony, and the mustang is a pony that was

found upon the plains of Mexico. Both these breeds are used by cow-men;

and they are, with few exceptions, very hard to break. They are natural

_buckers_; and some of them never forget it, and take a heat at it after

being rode for several years; that is, they put their head between

their knees, stick out their tails, and then begin to jump stiff-legged.

The first lunge will perhaps be four or five feet forward, the next

several feet backward, then from side to side, and all the while bawling

like an ox. They sometimes begin as soon as the sinch is drawn and

before it is fastened, and tearing furiously from the boy they buck over

the plain until the saddle comes off or until they are entirely

exhausted. It is a curious habit, but it appears to be natural with

them; and if any person takes it to be an agreeable exercise to back one

of these professional buckers, he should try it on once, and I will

assure him that one fall upon the back of the neck will be sufficient to

convince him that he was mistaken. It takes _practice_ to be able to

ride one of these fellows; and men considered good riders in the East

are tipped by these ponies as easily as a stone from a slippery log. To

see a big tender-foot back a bucker is about as funny a thing as I ever

witnessed. The first jump the boy pops up about six inches, the next a

foot, and so on. Soon he pops up so high that the pony gets one pop

ahead of him, and when he comes down the pony is gone; and with a thud

he comes to the ground, usually upon the back of his shoulders, with

his feet gesticulating wildly in the direction he came from. These boys

are so well up to them, however, that they do not think much about it,

_ordinarily_, though there is one sometimes that it takes the best rider

to stick. I saw a boy mount a pony that it was said could not be rode,

while he said he could not be thrown. The pony began his wickedest; and

such bucking I never saw. He bucked for full fifteen minutes, and was

worried down. The blood was gushing from the mouth and nose of the

rider. The powerful jerking had almost _ruined_ him; and of the effects

of that ride he said he never expected to be cured. “But,” said he, “in

all my riding-experiences in fifteen years upon the prairie, I never

backed the like.” Now, when a little _mule_ once learns to buck, he is

what the cow-boys call double-geared lightning; for this, with the

natural-born ability of the mule, enables him to come as near _playing

hell_ as is possible without using the real material; and a person who

did not see him begin would swear it was a _herd_ of mules dashing

around, so numerous and violent are his maneuvers. When a wild pony is

to be broken he is roped, a saddle strapped upon him, and the rider

takes his seat. He is then turned loose upon the prairie to cut capers,

while the other boys ride after him to keep from going too far, or from

jumping into bogs or gutters. As they come dashing over the prairie

whooping and hallooing, the pony bucking and bawling, and the rider

applying his big spurs, the sight is grand; and it is seldom one of

these boys is moved from his seat. When the pony is worried out, he then

puts a bridle on him and drills him. Of course it would be impossible to

ride these fellows with the saddles that are used in the states. But, as

has been said, these saddles are large, the horn is high, and when

mounting a bad pony a roll of blankets is tied upon the saddle-skirt,

and it is difficult to get a rider from his seat. Some of these boys

have been almost _born_ in the saddle; and riding _so much_, they are so

bow-legged they can hardly walk. I have seen these boys ride along on a

dead run and grab up in succession four and five silver dollars that

were laid upon the ground fifty yards apart. They become very

_venturesome_ and _mischievous_, and sometimes catch the big-horned

Texas steers, jump upon their backs, pull their tail up over the

shoulder, and my, oh! what a time! The steer bounds away snorting,

bucking, and bellowing; but in spite of his efforts the boy holds on to

the tail and keeps his seat. When they want some milk they ride out and

rope a cow; and while the pony holds the cow they milk what they want.

From so much _practice_, these boys are as expert with the six-shooter

as with the pony; and persons considering themselves good shots should

not brand themselves superior until once shooting a round or two with a

cow-boy. I have seen boys ride over the river bridge at Granada, and at

a dead run shoot two and three glass telegraph insulators from the

railing in one round from the six-shooter. They practice this so much

that they can shoot better from a pony than from the ground. Some have

the cells filed out, so that the firing can be done more rapidly. There

are saloons all along the railroads and cattle-trails, and when the boys

are out alone upon the range for some time they feel like having a

_picnic_ when getting to where somebody lives. They are usually very

liberal when they have money, and everybody present is called on to

“come up and represent.” Whisky is considered the _grace of God_ in this

country, and of course it is very seldom refused. Now, if there are

several together, a few drinks about makes happiness full; and the ball

then opens. The boys all draw good wages, their expenses are light, and

most of them aim to spend in saloons every dollar that is not needed for

actual necessaries. They often draw from fifty to one hundred dollars at

once, and spend every dollar of it before leaving a saloon. There are

men making fortunes off the cow-boys to-day. There are professional

gamblers lurking around most of these frontier saloons, and they watch

to _intoxicate_ the boys and then play them out of their money. Though

the game be begun in the best of humor, it is usual for each man to lay

his six-shooter at his side; and the _maxim_ is, _mind your eye_. As

long as everything is done squarely there is no trouble; but the first

man that is caught tricking is in hot quarters; and I have seen some

deadly battles without one word spoken. Sometimes the gamblers entirely

strip the boys, and with an understanding, when there is a large pot,

they point the six-shooters at the gamblers’ heads and pull in the pile.

Some years ago Dodge City, Kansas, was given up to be the roughest and

most wicked place in the United States. It is situated right where the

Texas trail crosses the railroad, and was a regular stock-center.

Numbers of cow-boys were constantly going in and out, and whole dens of

gamblers and prostitutes were quartered here for lucre. The population

being composed of _such beings_, and the clash of the six-shooter being

the voice of the law, the vilest consequences are but natural. Ah! many

a man played his last game here, and mingled his dying-breath with the

lurid smoke of the six-shooters. Men were shot down like dogs, and

buried as they fell, red with gore and horribly mangled.

There is at this place a yard called the _Boot Grave-yard_, a place well

known to all western men, and called thus from the fact that

thirty-eight men have been buried here with their boots on. There was

scarcely a day that there was not a riot in town among the cow-boys, or

between the cow-boys and gamblers; and of course _shooting_ and

_cutting_ was the consequence. Emigrants passing through with wagons,

and not knowing the place, were decoyed into dark places and robbed.

Passengers from the trains, on going in for refreshments and showing

any amount of money, were trapped and robbed, and were killed upon

resistance. You are a stranger in the country, and they are all cliqued

together; and what are you to do? If you go to making much trouble, or

get to shooting off your mouth, the consequences can be imagined. Even

when there are _officers_, they are not able to command order; for the

first day they try it a ball from some unknown villain will strike him.

Hence the officers are usually cliqued with the desperadoes. The easier

a person can get out of these places the better; for the officers

themselves will put you into a dungeon for the gamblers to rob you.

Fully one half the gamblers and cow-boys of the West are persons who

have committed dark crimes and fled thither to escape _justice_; and

wickedness, when once _launched_, will find in this country easy

sailing.

As has been said, almost every cow-boy has one pony and riding-rig of

his own. In case he should come into a place and _kill_ somebody, this

pony is calculated to skip with to another part, thereby avoiding the

necessity of riding off one of the company’s horses.

The regular initiation to the cow-boys’ society is three murders; and

when they find that you are good stuff, and will shoot without

ceremony, you are one of the _boys_; and you may depend upon it that you

have friends who will stand by you in the hours of darkest danger. But

if you prove to be a _brag_ and a _coward_, your misfortunes are laughed

at.

If a criminal is pursued, and he can reach the banks of the Arkansas

River anywhere west of Dodge City, and then understands the plains, he

is as safe as though he were in an uninhabited land. Or if he does not

understand the prairie, and goes to a cow-camp and tells the boys what

is up, if he has the right appearance one of them will mount a _pony_

and give _him_ one, and lope across to another range. Persons who do not

know the country can not _follow_ a person here; and if it is tried, and

you do not perish from _thirst_, death will meet you in _some way_--you

can rest assured of that. Telegraph-wires and officers of the law are of

little avail here in running down a felon; and if a person keeps on his

guard, and stays upon the range away from the towns, there is no danger

of ever being taken.

Many of the boys are _never_ caught off their guard, and the belt is

upon them at the board and in the bed. They are _ever_ prepared. Every

stranger is watched with an eagle eye, and the least suspicion is nipped

in the bud.

There was one boy who had been upon the plains for several years, and

who had proved himself a hero. He had committed murder in Alabama and

fled from justice, and a New York _detective_ had been employed to hunt

him down; but it was some years before a clue could be found. He one

night came to the home of the widowed mother, and passing himself off as

a peddler not long from Germany, in a long, cunning conversation he

obtained a slight trace of the felon son; and at length he trailed him

to the Colorado plains. He learned that he was cow-punching; and the

only way to get him was to cow-punch too. So, rigging himself out in a

cow-boy’s dress, he hired to a company and went to work. He was at the

business several weeks, and at length came across his man. He had been

very careful about every word and motion, and, assuming a careless

appearance, he was not in the least suspicioned. He knew he was in a

dangerous position; for if the cow-boys even mistrusted him he would be

shot. But with great cunning and ingenuity he had avoided all suspicion;

and after awhile he became quite intimate, and was taken into the

cow-boy’s confidence. He watched his opportunity, and was alone with his

man upon the Tepee, in Texas, one beautiful summer’s eve; and they both

stooped to drink from the little stream. The detective was careful to

arise first, and drawing his six-shooter he leveled it upon his man, and

as he rose said, “Surrender, and be quiet; for you are my prisoner.”

Quick as a flash the cow-boy saw his position, and resolved to make the

most of it. Maintaining his presence of mind he coolly remarked, “Well,

I suppose you want my arms.” The detective, not realizing his real

danger, and not considering the cow-boy’s dexterity with a pistol,

assented to the boy handing him the pistol, but kept his aim. The

six-shooter was drawn from the scabbard, the fore-finger was slipped

into the guard in front of the trigger, and, taking the pistol by the

barrel, he reached it to the detective; and as he let down his own arm

and reached for the extended weapon the cow-boy whirled the six-shooter,

caught the handle, and in a twinkling a ball was sent whizzing through

the body of the detective; and he lay pouring his life-blood upon the

green bank of the Tepee, at the very feet of his intended victim.

It was only by long acquaintance and the most perfect confidence that I

was intrusted with these secrets. I passed by the dead body before the

color had quite left the cheeks. He was a fine-looking man, with an

intellectual appearance; but, lest he should give himself away, he had

cleaned out his pockets, and there was not even a paper by which his

name could be ascertained. There may be a good woman and loving family

somewhere in New York to-day waiting for the return of a long-absented

loved one; but God forbid that it should be he whose bones lie bleaching

on the banks of the Tepee. There are many such cases; and could the

ghastly skulls but tell their tales, great volumes could be written of

what will ever remain a deep secret.

Persons traveling over the plains will from time to time come upon human

remains, some but partially decomposed and others disarticulated

skeletons. A few miles north of the Arkansas River, in eastern Colorado,

there is a long, deep hollow that from the great number of skeletons

found therein is called _Dead Man’s Arroyo_. They appear to have been

there for many years; but there is not a mark upon the valley rocks or

spirit-whisper in the soft air to tell the sad tale. It is _supposed_

that a hunting outfit was surprised at night and murdered by the

Indians.

While hunting in the pan-handle country, we found the skeletons of four

ponies lying in a circle, and a human skeleton (apparently a negro)

lying among them. There were seventy-two Winchester cartridge-shells by

his side; and it is thought that he was attacked by Indians, and for

shelter shot down all his ponies, then fought off his enemies until his

ammunition was exhausted, and died by a cruel hand. I have spent many

interesting hours in the careful investigation of these mysteries, and

surmising the causes and means by which these results were effected.

From the fact that crime can be committed in the silence of the lonely

plain, with so little _danger_ of ever being discovered (the body often

wasting to a skeleton before being discovered), there are many

cold-blooded killings. When the least difficulty occurs among persons

here, the arbitrator is almost invariably the six-shooter.

There are _dance-halls_ in many of the _little towns_ within the

cow-boy’s range. They are usually built of sod or _adobe_, and are

about fifty feet long and thirty feet wide. In one corner there is a

bar; and in the back end of the building are several small rooms in

which stay the female dancers. They are usually Mexican girls. Musicians

are employed to stay here all the time; and every night some of the

cow-boys, Mexicans, or miners come in,--often from twenty and thirty

miles,--for a dance. At the end of each set each boy must take his

partner to the bar. Drinks and cigars are usually two bits apiece, and

the lowest is fifteen cents apiece or two for two bits. If it is found

out that there are boys in who have much money, the bar-keeper posts the

musicians and the sets are cut very short. As long as the boys will

spend money the dance is kept up, if it is all night; but so soon as the

money stops the dance stops. The profits are large, and among these

reckless boys a shrewd hall-man often clears from one hundred and fifty

to two hundred dollars in a single night. Knowing the character and

disposition of the persons who attend these balls, and considering the

attending circumstances upon these occasions, the scenes can be readily

imagined. Desperadoes gather in from all directions, boys meet here to

settle quarrels, and cow-boys and Mexicans being _natural_ enemies,

there are often mighty lively times. Each boy is ambitious to be a _bad

man_; and after they get pretty well fired with liquor the recklessness

commences and the wild spirit begins to glitter. Six-shooters are

jerked, knives are drawn, and with wild yells bottles and glasses are

shot from the bar, lights are fired down, and the basest profanity

floats out of the appertures of the earthly hell upon the prairie

breeze. Old grudges are stirred up, bullies try to pick a quarrel from

others and then strike them down and try to run the house. One boy will

imagine himself insulted by some other, and getting his friends together

a fight is begun. Boys are shot down upon the dancing-floor, and each

man tries to be the bloodiest. The consequences of these wicked balls

are often very bitter, and there are some sickening scenes to be viewed

in the morning light. I recollect being at Las Animas, Colorado, one

night when there was a dance at the old Alhambra (a Mexican dance-hall),

and I went to the ball to see how things were carried on and to learn

the Colorado styles. I got there early in the evening, and the Mexicans

were having a big fandango in six-eight time. About nine o’clock the

cow-boys began to gather in, when things began to warm up and the scene

put on a new aspect. The cow-boys got wild with liquor, and riding

around the hall yelling and shooting, they made the old _adobe_ dust fly

like sand in a hurricane. Bullets whistled in every direction, and when

one cut through my beard I concluded things were getting a little

_warm_; but wanting to see it _all_, I got behind the bar with the

tender. There were a good many _Mexicans_ in the hall, and the two

parties began to contend for the house. There were two doors in _front_,

and three boys arranged themselves in a line at either door. The doors

were then thrown open by others, and leaning low upon the ponies, the

six boys plunged their spurs into the sides of their animals and like a

flash rushed into the house. They rode up to the lights and struck them

down with their six-shooters; and then in the darkness the bloody

contest was hand-to-hand. The women screamed, the horses snorted, the

cow-boys shot, and the Mexicans cut. I knew the contest was bloody, and

I was anxious to know how the thing was coming on; but the horses were

prancing around so furiously, and it was too dark to dodge the bullets

that were flying like rocks in an earthquake, so I kept behind the bar

and waited for the curtain to rise. In about five minutes the noise

abated; and when the lamps were lighted a horrible spectacle met my

view. The ponies were all out; but three of the riders were horribly

mutilated and bleeding upon the floor. Two Mexicans (greasers) were also

riddled with bullets and gasping in death, while others were badly

wounded. I went out among the cow-boys and found that some of them were

also deeply gashed and bleeding. They had got the _worst_ of the battle;

and being late in the night they concluded to disperse and come in

_some_ other night for some more fun. There was not a boy in the crowd

that appeared to be in the _least affected_ with the loss of his

comrades, and with wild whoops they rushed off like the wind. Going into

the hall I found the band playing, and the Mexicans were preparing to

continue the ball. The five bodies were dragged up in the corner and a

blanket thrown over them, and in the blood of the expired men the

fandango was carried on till the morn began to dawn. This was a regular

_dance-hall_ scene, and not in any way an unusual one. I attended balls

at a number of different halls, and witnessed many bloody riots.

Of course, these halls are not allowed near towns of much _size_ or

_importance_, where men live with their _families_, but are mostly in

small places, and in many cases are far out upon the range. They are

built in all shapes. The very air is contaminated with the vicious venom

that arises from their walls like the odor from hell. Some are built by

digging into the _ground_ a few feet and then putting a few feet of

_adobes_ on top, making the ceiling just high enough for a man to _walk_

under; and when the fiends gather in the nights are made hideous and the

noise of the riots sounds like the rumbling of the infernal regions.

These houses are the manufactories of evil and the polluted fountains

from which untold misery and wickedness have been drunk by the

unfortunate ones who traveled thither. Many a noble though _ambitious_

young man, the pride of a happy family and the delight of his

fellow-comrades, has gone west to seek his fortune, like his forefathers

in years gone by. The location is often made in these wild places, and

when the cultivated delicacy and human timidity are once a little

numbed, he walks with his _comrades_ and is soon led to their venomous

dens. Though it may be a little _shocking_ at first, there is nothing

but his own lonely conscience to discourage him and warn him of the

enormity and danger; and under the circumstances the _ordinary_ man is

tempted and will go down. When he visits these houses the seeds are sown

in his breast that the oxygen of prairie air will hasten to maturity.

Every man who visits these places has his life in his hand; and it is as

easily dropped as though it were the most insignificant article. Often

when a fond family is daily looking for a loved one to return, his

spirit is winging the subtile air and his bones are bleaching upon the

prairie, the secret, like the body, melting into clay. Of course, as was

said, these vile places and extremely wicked inhabitants are principally

found in small towns in the midst of the unsettled _country_ or where

these earthly hells are pitched in the midst of the plain; for there are

some _pretty_ little towns and _good_ people. It appears somewhat

strange that man--and not only man--will so degenerate, and become so

extremely wicked and beastly; but it appears that the average person,

when living in a wild, unsettled country, surrounded with so much evil,

loses all his refinement and develops into a new creature.

While picturing western life and relating frontier adventures it may be

_proper_ and perhaps _interesting_ to many to give a sketch of the life

of Hon. Wm. F. Cody,--“Buffalo Bill,”--a man known the world over as a

border hero, of whom too much can not be said in the way of praise for

valuable services rendered the Government as an army-scout, guide, and

Indian-fighter.

Born in Iowa in 1843, at a time when that state was a border, and at an

early age going with his father to Kansas, in the midst of the troubles

there that “tried men’s souls,” William F. Cody was reared amid scenes

of danger, and met with many thrilling adventures ere he reached his

thirteenth year, becoming a “boy hero” when killing his first Indian

before he entered his teens.

The death of his father, from the result of wounds received in the

Kansas war, left the boy the support of his mother and sisters, and,

precocious for his years, he joined an emigrant-train as teamster, and

rapidly rose from that position to hunter and guide over the overland

trails to the far West.

Of his numerous adventures, narrow escapes, Indian battles, and

hardships volumes could be written--for he made his name famous along

the border from Utah to Texas; and though a mere boy in years, few men

were his superior in strength and endurance, while the cunning of the

red-man he matched with equal cunning, and, in fact, won the name of

being able to “out-Injun, Injun.”

Of Mr. Cody’s gaining the title of “Buffalo Bill” several stories are

told, one of which is that when a boy-hunter to one of Russell, Major &

Waddell’s trains, carrying Government supplies west to the forts, he was

alone on the prairie one day, hunting, when he espied a tremendous herd

of buffaloes coming toward him at full speed. The train-encampment was

miles away, the boy was on foot, and there was but one chance to escape

being trampled to death, and that was to reach a lone cotton-wood tree

some distance off. A fleet runner, he gained the tree and drew himself

up into the branches just as the herd of thousands of buffaloes came

tearing along beneath him. Scarcely had he mentally congratulated

himself upon his lucky escape when he espied behind the herd half a

hundred Sioux warriors in full pursuit; and he knew that they would make

short work of him, for they would also pass under the tree. To remain

was certain death; and his fertile mind saw a chance,--one in a

thousand,--and he seized upon it at once. He would drop down on the back

of a huge buffalo-bull, and thus ride out of danger. This he did,

landing astride of the back of an animal that, frightened fearfully,

endeavored to throw him off, but in vain. Fortunately the herd headed in

the direction of the train-encampment, and as the men ran out to secure

fresh buffalo meat they saw that one of the bulls had a rider, and a

crack shot bringing the animal down, it was found to be Bill Cody, who

was then and there christened “Buffalo Bill.”

Another account is that when hunting for the hands on the Kansas Pacific

Railroad he, in one season, killed four thousand two hundred and eighty

buffaloes, and thereby won the title that he is known by the world over.

As a pony-express rider, when fifteen years of age, under the famous

Alf. Slade, Buffalo Bill won a name as being a rider of marvelous skill

and endurance, making, on one occasion, a continuous ride of three

hundred and thirty-two miles, and accomplishing the whole distance in

twenty-two hours,--truly a wonderful feat.

But it was when he became a scout in the army that he made his greatest

name; and the general officers under whom he has served, and those who

have served with him, give him the credit of being a man of unimpaired

skill in prairie craft, indomitable courage, a miraculous marksman with

rifle and revolver, and at all times a gentleman.

Receiving only a common-school education, Buffalo Bill has since

educated himself; for, a thorough reader of human nature and close

observer of men and things, he falls naturally into the ways of polite

society, while, a great reader, he has a fund of general information one

would not believe possible to be attained by a person who had led his

arduous, busy, and adventurous life.

Over six feet in height, formed like an Apollo, and as handsome as a

picture, he is a man to attract universal attention wherever he goes, to

which, however, he seems utterly indifferent.

At the time of the visit of the Grand Duke Alexis to the United States,

General Sheridan selected Buffalo Bill as his guide, and he received

from the duke a magnificent diamond ring in return for his services, and

an invitation to visit him in Russia, which Mr. Cody says he will one

day accept.

Acting also as guide and hunter for numerous parties of English noblemen

hunting on the plains, and also for Mr. James Gordon Bennett, J. G.

Hecksher, Leonard and Lawrence Jerome, Colonel Schuyler Crosby, and

other noted Americans, he soon became known as a _bona fide_

frontiersman.

When the late Mr. Frank Leslie made his memorable trip to the Pacific

coast, Buffalo Bill was his invited guest through the Sierra Nevada

Mountains.

Thus becoming famous through his own deeds, Mr. Cody was seized upon as

the hero of many an “o’er true tale” in the weekly papers, and was urged

to come to the East and engage in a dramatic enterprise, in which he has

been successful as an actor, and made a snug fortune.

As a pistol and rifle shot Mr. Cody has no superior; and his deeds with

fire-arms are simply miraculous, and must be seen to be believed.

At present Mr. Cody resides at North Platte, Nebraska, where he has a

large cattle-ranch, which yields him a handsome sum annually, and where

he is known as a “cattle-king.”

The cause of this great region of the plains spreading out treeless and

devoid of vegetation has been the subject of extravagant _conjecture_,

and some queer _theories_ have been advanced. Some persons think that it

was once covered with trees and plants, but was swept over by fire,

which so thoroughly destroyed all seed and roots that there was nothing

left to sprout; hence the broad, clear range. All persons who have

_been_ upon the plains will scout all such theories, for nothing will

grow there if planted. The physical condition of this great track is but

the reasonable effect of the working of natural laws. _Rain_ is all that

is required to make the desert beam and blossom like the beautiful

valleys of the _states_, though of course it would take some years to

turn the dry sands into soil. No well-informed person wonders why

_Sahara_ is a desert; and though the region of the plains is visited

with a few more little showers, and the surface is not so sandy, yet the

_principle_ is the _same_. What falls from the clouds is but that which

arises by the process of evaporation from the waters below. The

evaporation from our little _inland_ waters is very _limited_, that as

_rain_ it would amount to very few and feeble showers. The great oceans,

seas, and gulfs that fringe the continent are the mighty reservoirs from

which rise our dews and refreshing showers; and wherever their moisture

is not carried, the effect is invariably that of which the great deserts

of the world, and the mighty plains of America, bear testimony to-day.

In this case, the distance is so great from the waters north and east

that all the moisture is lost before it reaches the prairie-land. It is

also a great way from the gulf, and to the west the _mountain ranges_

rear their cold summits aloof to extract the dampness from the Pacific

breeze. Hence, so long as the broad, open waters roll in their present

channels, and the hills and valleys remain, the American plains will

divide the East from the West, and their dry surface will glitter in the

bright, burning sun. It is, nevertheless, an excellent stock-range; and

judging from the mighty herds annually shipped from this great field, it

appears a _necessary_ pasture-land for the _world_. It appears that the

all-designing Providence, in the creation, prepared for the

contingencies of mankind, and adapted this region to its present use, as

well as the mountain-sides to the glittering diamonds and rusty ores.

There being so little rain here, there are no stagnant waters to poison

the air; and the atmosphere being so dry substances do not _rot_, but

simply wither, dry up, and blow away. Carcasses will sometimes lie for

_several years_ before the hide is broken. There are, consequently, no

noxious substances to impart their impurities, and the air is left

perfectly wholesome. The buzzard and blow-fly have no putrefying masses

to hover over, and are consequently not known here. Fresh meat can be

hung up in the open air, without salt, and it will dry out sweet and

beautiful; hence, the West for health. For pulmonary troubles, this

pure, dry atmosphere is the balm of life; and there are numbers of

healthy and happy persons in the West to-day, rejoicing and praising the

western angel who snatched them from the brink of eastern graves.

But to go back. I said we calculated to go into _business_ in the valley

for the winter; and so we did. Charles turned cow-boy, and stayed at the

home ranch during the winter; Dave and John were employed at the

round-house; and, seeing a chance to make money yet _another_ way, I

built a trading-house upon the prairie at the end of the railway-section

at Granada, where stand a few little houses. I stocked with blankets,

rough clothing, hats, boots, flour, corn, tobacco, cigars, etc. A small

space was partitioned off at one end for a bar-room, and I hired a

well-known and influential cow-boy to attend to this, not thinking the

latter an _honorable_ part of my business, to _Ohio_ eyes, but aware

that if a person wants to sell in any country he must keep what the

people want to buy; for _otherwise_ he is not patronized. My customers

were cow-boys, Mexicans, Indians, emigrants, and the few settlers in the

valley. Of course, one would naturally expect lively times once in

awhile, under such circumstances; but I could smell the money in the

air.

Myself and my hands were largely acquainted with the boys; and they came

in from all directions, saying that they wanted to spend their money

with us. The bar-keeper was _admired_ by all the boys; and having great

influence over them, he seldom had much trouble. I bought furs from the

Indians and hunters, and realized large profits. Taking strips of

bright-colored calicoes, I tied them in bunches; and the Indian being

great for dashing _colors_, a few cents’ worth of calico bought many an

Indian fur. They are also slaves to _tobacco_ and _whisky_; and it was

seldom they took _money_ away, no matter how many furs they brought in.

They never _wanted_ to _sell_, but to _trade_.

The boys here are very _curious_ about _luxuries_ and _oddities_; and I

used to have much sport with them. One time I sent to Kansas City for a

keg of pickled pig’s-feet; and when there were a good many _boys_ in I

opened it. After the boys found that they were good, I sold half a keg,

at fifteen cents apiece, before I stopped. It was amusing to see them

running round, each with a pig’s-foot in his hand. At another time I

bought a number of large silk _neck-ties_; and after selling _one_, I

sold the whole lot the same day for one dollar and seventy-five cents

apiece. They tied them round their necks, and used them for hat-bands.

Of course the _profits_ were large upon all sales, and I made money

fast. This was in the winter of 1878-9,--the time of the great

excitement and emigration to Leadville,--and being right on the route,

from fifty to seventy-five wagons daily passed my place for a couple of

months. The weather was usually bad and the traveling hard; and most

every one of the outfits needing something in my line, my sales ran from

seventy-five to one hundred and fifty dollars per day for several weeks.

I shall leave the reader to _guess_ at the _margins_, and only say that

we did not _deal_ in nickels. We were all now located at the same place,

and were making money; and many a fine old time we had together in that

old Arkansas valley.

We and several other persons kept a pack of greyhounds, and we often

went out for a chase. When wanting a chase, each boy going would saddle

a good pony, and, with the hounds trained to stay close in the rear, we

would ride out over the plain, looking cautiously for a flock of

antelopes, deer, a jack-rabbit, or a wolf. When a flock of antelopes or

deer is seen, the riders take advantage of the hills and ravines and get

just as close as possible without being discovered; then, turning the

hounds _loose_, away they go with the speed of the wind. If the hounds

are well bred, and can be gotten within a _quarter_ before beginning the

chase, they will usually be successful; otherwise the fleet animals are

likely to escape.

The _antelope_, as has been said, is a very vigilant and spirited

animal; and as they bound away in the chase they almost baffle the eye.

They always try to run down hill; and as they seldom run straight very

far, the riders can cut across and keep _near_ all the time, and often

run into the flock without going half as far as the hounds. A flock of

antelopes flying over the plain, with a pack of hounds close in the

rear, and followed by excited horsemen hallooing and flying their hats,

is truly a grand _sight_ as well as an agreeable sport. The chase is

sometimes _short_, and sometimes ten miles long; and I have rode among a

flock when they were trotting slowly along, with mouths wide open, and

the hounds within ten steps coming slowly along, with their great red

tongues lolling out. A well-bred buck antelope is a little more than the

average greyhound can overtake. The antelope is swifter than the deer.

Sometimes a large, well-developed _jack-rabbit_ jumps up; and when he

lays his long ears back upon his neck and gets down to his best he goes

like the news upon a telegraph-wire--only touching the high places--and

appears like a row of jack-rabbits. He can outrun the _antelope_ for a

short _distance_, but can not hold out so long. When a large _gray

wolf_ is started up there is fun. The dogs soon overtake him; but to

kill him is another thing. I have seen one wolf whip six hounds, and get

away. Hunters do not like to have their hounds tackle a _large_ one, for

he cuts them up so.

The cow-men and homesteaders are often visited by their _eastern

friends_, and these chases are grand sport for them. I recollect that

one time two young fellows came out to visit their brother in his little

_adobe_ in the valley; and learning of the sport, they were overanxious

for a chase. They asked us to take them out; and finding that they were

plug-hatted, nickel-plated fellows, with lots of _conceit_, we concluded

to have some fun. They bragged of their _riding_ ability, and being thus

relieved of the responsibility of breaking a couple of tender-foot

necks, we brought up two spirited ponies used to the chase,--and one a

professional _bucker_ when he took a _notion_,--and he would often take

a notion in the heat of the chase. The silk-hats, broadcloth, and

kid-gloves glistened in the sunlight, and their heads stuck up through

the glazed standing-collars; and as we pranced out upon the range I

could hardly conceal my _laughter_ when I thought of the fun to come.

All at once a powerful jack-rabbit jumped from a bunch of grass and sped

away like the wind. The hounds flashed by and were gone, and the ponies

needed no urging. In a few hundred yards the man on the bucker touched

his pony too far back with his foot; and _Jerusalem!_ to see that pony

buck was a caution. The first jump the old plug-hat rolled off over the

sand like a cannon-ball upon Lookout Mountain, the collar flew open, and

the breeches burst; the next he was popping a foot above the saddle with

his coat-tail playing in the air like the national flag; and the next he

was picking himself out of the sand, limping around on one leg, pulling

up his breeches, wiping the blood from his nose, and speaking the

Colorado dialect as nearly as possible, while the pony ran off in the

chase. The _other_ kiddy, finding that he could not _hold_ his pony, had

let go the rein and was holding to the saddle-horn with his legs spread

out like the holy cross, and his horse just flying. He ran among the

hounds; and the rabbit turning short, the pony gave one stiff jump,

whirled upon his hind feet, and ran on. The plug-hat flew, the rider

scooted forward, tearing open his vest and pants upon the saddle-horn,

and holding around the horse’s neck with a death-grip. The next turn the

_second_ kid-glove went scooting his nose in the sand and his heels in

the air. We saw that they were not _killed_, and ran on. After we had

the _rabbit_ we took a hearty laugh, and then caught the ponies and went

back for the good riders, who had stopped to rest. The _classic_

language had flown, and they were together brushing off their plugs and

knocking the sand from their ears, and talking in such language that any

_Colorado boy_ could understand every word they said. Well, there was no

_fun_ in the chase for them, so we went back and the boys “set ’em up.”

The stiffening was from their collars, and the conceit from their minds;

and I’ll bet if an eastern man tells _them_ that he can ride _any

Colorado pony_, they will say to themselves, “_He’s a liar._” The _ways_

of the _people_ and even the _horses_ of Colorado have to be _learned_;

and to a fresh eastern man it is a big lesson.

A man and wife by the name of Mills, passing here _en route_ for

Leadville, being a little short in finance, and finding that employment

could be had at the round-house, concluded to put up in a little board

shanty that stood near my place, and _work_ a few days. That very night

several cow-boys came in, and, as usual, did considerable yelling and

shooting. In the morning, finding six bullet-holes through his house, he

related his night’s adventure, and told how he and his wife had propped

the doors and then lay behind the stove, and said he would not stay in

that house and run his chances for the whole d----n round-house. So,

taking his outfit, he moved across the railroad a half mile down the

river, and there put up a _tent_ for his house. That afternoon a few

cow-boys came in, and the sheriff and two deputies from Las Animas

happening to be there, a trouble arose and the boys rode out and charged

upon the house. _Firing_ commenced, and the sheriff, with a large

needle-gun, shot dead one of the _ponies_, leaving its rider dismounted.

He ran right down the railroad toward the _tent_; and in firing after

him a bullet went through the tent, and several others buzzed by. This

was too much for the man in the _tent_, and he started back East that

very night by the light of the moon. He said if a man could not even

live in a tent out on the _prairie_ without being shot at every day and

night, _he_ had enough of the _West_.

Well, things went on, and toward spring my brother came out from Ohio

for his _health_. When the fur-season was going out, and the Leadville

travelers began to drop off, I sold out and began to prepare for a trip

into the mountains. My brother enjoyed the light, pure air and western

novelties, and decided to go along. Another young man named William

Gray, from Sutton, Nebraska, also decided to go. My old camp-outfit was

trimmed up, and everything was prepared to make the trip a pleasant as

well as an instructive one. Friend Charles had been called home to Ohio

by the illness of his father, and Dave and John decided to stay in

Colorado, and not go any farther west. It was quite _shocking_ to me to

think of going on and leaving behind my old comrades, with whom I had

traveled so many days, and eaten so many meals in our little camp up and

down through the broad, wild West; and especially _John_, who started

with me from Ohio, and sat with me upon the lonely plains in the bleak

winds of winter, and sultry breath of summer; whose tongue parched with

mine upon the desert, and who fought the same hungry pangs--one who had

proved himself a _noble_ and _gallant_ companion, and _brave_ in the

hour of _trial_. But it must be done; and after giving each other our

best advice, we took a long good-bye--perhaps forever.

That parting I shall not forget,

Though I live to be aged and gray;

For comrade ties did _scarcely_ let

Me tear from them away.

PART II.

CHAPTER I.

We Start for the Mountains--Las Animas--Pueblo--Colorado

Springs--Manitou--Mineral Springs--We Ascend Pike’s Peak--Balancing

Rock--Garden of the Gods--Devil’s Hole--Return to Manitou.

At two o’clock P.M. of June 5th, 1879, everything being in readiness,

our little party of three bid farewell to our Granada friends and the

pleasant old tramping-ground and steered our course _westward_,

expecting to traverse the beautiful snow-capped mountains and to gratify

our long-cherished desires. There could not have been a more jolly

outfit than ours as we wound up the pretty green valley of the Arkansas,

waving our hats and flirting farewell to our acquaintances who stood in

the narrow doors of their little _adobe_ homes. To me it appeared like

leaving home; and, though cheered by pleasant anticipations, I have no

doubt that there was more solemnity in the occasion for me than for the

rest of the party, who rejoiced while thinking of the scenery that yet

lay before us.

We were now traveling upon what is known in Fremont’s travels as the

“Great American Desert;” yet the description given of this country by

General Fremont nearly half a century ago fails to compare with the

reality of to-day. Though I shall not stop here to question the

credibility of our able explorer, yet permit me to say, by way of

explanation, that great physical changes often take place, and more

especially in new countries; and notwithstanding Mr. Fremont’s

description of this part of Colorado is not correct as of the present,

it may have been _nearer_ so when _he_, with his daring followers, faced

the dangers of the savage land and matched strength with the red

warrior. As said before, this is now the home of the stock-raiser; and

thousands of cattle may be constantly seen grazing on this so-called

American desert. Here they remain during the twelve months of the year,

without shelter or any unnatural protection, and are compelled to “root,

hog, or die.” If the winter is severe, many of them fall victims to the

freezing blasts. But this being in the month of _June_, the cattle were

in fine condition; and while passing along our attention was often

attracted by their fine _appearance_, which drew forth many suggestions

and some interesting remarks concerning the subject of stock-raising, of

which the following is an example: “See that fine cow yonder; and look

what a fine calf she has. That cow and calf would be worth seventy-five

dollars in Dayton, Ohio. What do you think, Will?” “Well,” said Will,

who was always jealous over his native state, “we have lots of finer

cows than _that_ in _Nebraska_; and there are calves where I came from

that are but six weeks old which beat those all to pieces.”

Thus passed away the first day of our journey; and when the faint beams

of the sinking sun were playing upon the tops of the river cotton-woods

we halted for the night on the green banks of the Arkansas. After

watering the horses and picketing them in the most favorable spot for

grazing, the new party took its first supper in its own camp.

Our facilities for _cooking_ were somewhat limited to those

_inexperienced_ in camp-life; so, of course, the duty of getting supper

devolved on me. Though the boys felt a little adverse to a rough

hunter’s hands going into the dough, the little cloud was soon lifted

from their delicacies by the sight of an ovenful of large, light,

brown-topped biscuits, which Will said looked as though a Nebraska baker

had made them. Our fare, in addition to this, consisted of roast

potatoes with the hides on,--as cow-boys say,--meat, and sirup. The boys

ate with a relish; and after washing the dishes,--consisting of a

tin-pan and a knife apiece,--and considerable boasting as to who had

eaten the most supper, and remarks as to how well it _tasted_, the

blankets were stretched beneath the green-spreading foliage of a little

cotton-wood tree, and the little party, with but a single blanket

between them and the earth and a similar _covering_, lay down to dream

of the peculiarities of western life. There we lay, gazing at the

bright, twinkling stars and listening to the music of the purple waters

of the Arkansas as they rolled over a rocky riffle just above, until

slumber closed our eyes and shut our thoughts from the fields of nature.

We awoke at the first note of the curious little songster among the

branches above us; and after the boys had related their dreams, we all

went down to the river. The boys said it was the first time they had

ever used an Arkansas wash-basin. Biscuits were then made without any

_objection_ on the part of the boys. Breakfast being ready, we all eat

heartily; and it was not long before we were ready to roll up the valley

to the west.

But, lo! one of our horses, which had already become tired of the

_trip_, refused to go with us any _farther_; and this caused the

necessity of drafting a few resolutions, among which was the following:

“_Resolved_, That no Colorado pony can stop three boys bound for the

Rocky Mountains.” This resolution was at length unanimously adopted by

us; and the pony being in the minority, the force of the resolution was

brought to bear upon the only adverse party in the shape of a

cotton-wood sapling; and after a short debate we once more pushed

forward.

We had not gone far, however, before we came to a prairie-dog town; and

the little animals, seeing us trespassing within their corporate limits,

set up such a howling as to attract our attention. The little animals

would run from one burrow to another, stand erect upon their hind feet,

shake themselves, and dart into a hole in the earth, only to return and

repeat the same performance. We had just bought several new

six-shooters, and Doc.--a name given to my brother--thought that here

would be a fine place to try them. I advised the boys that I thought

they could not be hit, as I had often seen it _tried_, and never saw one

killed; and after several fruitless attempts Doc. concluded they were

too quick for powder. Turning to Will,--who sat upon the wagon during

the skirmish, like a Roman senator at an amphitheater,--and resolved to

save his credit as a marksman, he said: “Well, Will, what do you think

about this?” “Oh,” said he, “I have shot lots of them in Nebraska.”

As noon was nearing and the sun shining with unveiled splendor upon the

sandy plain, the heat was intense; and seeing a small _adobe_ house in

the distance we at once determined to go there, that we might procure

some cool, fresh water, and stop for dinner.

The road was smooth and the team fresh, and we glided merrily along and

came to the little town of Las Animas just as the sun was tinging with

gold the western horizon. There is a government fort here called Fort

Lyon; and after conversing awhile with the soldiers we entered the town

and at once proceeded to the post-office, expecting letters from our

homes and eastern friends. But unfortunately the mail had not yet

arrived, and we were compelled to stay the next day for the expected

news. As this little town, consisting of about five hundred inhabitants,

proved to be quite a lively place, we had no trouble in passing away the

time. During the day we conversed with various citizens; and the boys

were anxious to hear everything that could be learned about the country

and inhabitants. These conversations proved to be very interesting and

instructive. We were told that we were in Bent County, and that forty

years ago Mr. Bent lived here alone among the little trees upon the

river-bank, surrounded by wild beasts and savages. They told us of some

of his daring exploits with the Indians, and pointed to the place where

once stood his lonely hut, which is now mingled with the dust at the

side of his grave. As he was the first white man there the county took

his name.

The latter days of Kit Carson were spent here; and his remains are

buried near the river-bank, about five miles east of Las Animas. We went

to see the spot, and stood at the grave of him who was perhaps more than

a peer--in boldness and endurance--of any other who ever reaped his

livelihood in a wild, savage land. His little hut has almost returned to

dust, and a little mound of _debris_ among the trees tells where the

daring hunter lived. His grave is near by, and naught but a rude, rough

rock marks the spot where the gallant hero lies.

Here lives John Prowers, one of the wealthiest stock-men in the state.

Upon inquiry as to his great financial success, we were informed that he

came to Colorado a poor man; that he married the daughter of an Indian

chief; that at the birth of his first issue he received a donation of

five thousand dollars from his father-in-law, and continues to receive

this singular gift whenever a new member is added to his family. Mr.

Prowers has at present thirteen children. He says he believes in large

families and generous fathers-in-law. I might here remark that two of

his children are at present attending college; and it is said that they

are apt scholars, and intelligent and promising young ladies,

notwithstanding their Indian mother (who is so wretchedly stupid and

homely that nothing but the most glittering prospects for a large family

at five thousand dollars apiece could induce a man with the least taste

to love). It is said that when she and Mr. Prowers were first married,

she used to leave his home and be gone among the wild Indians for some

weeks at a time before returning.

Well, the day was an interesting one for us, and as the darkness

gathered we sought our camp and retired for the night.

The next day the mail arrived and brought the expected news. We at once

read our letters; and after some comment as to what our eastern friends

would think could they see us in camp, and what they would do under like

circumstances, etc., etc., we left Las Animas to take care of itself,

and resumed our journey. Nothing deserving of comment occurred during

the day. Suffice it to say that our team had a good rest, and we glided

along over the plain at a good speed, occupying the time by singing

songs and telling stories.

The next day three antelopes appeared at the distance of half a mile,

and we aimed our big rifles at them. The distance was so great, however,

that it could not be _judged_ by the _eye_; and before we could get the

range by _experiment_ (watching where the balls struck in the sand),

the animals dashed away. Will did not try his skill, but said that he

had killed antelopes at more than a mile distant in Nebraska.

We were now in sight of the long looked-for mountains; and although yet

nearly one hundred miles distant, their beautiful snow-caps shone

plainly in the bright sunlight. As this was in the heat of June, and the

scorching sun was beating heavily upon us, we felt delighted to see

_snow_, and imagined how cool and splendid it would be to sit upon the

mountain-top, and what fun it would be to snow-ball in the month of

June.

A few days later and we came into the city of Pueblo. This is a place of

about three thousand inhabitants, and situated at the western terminus

of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway. We found out that there was

to be a good theater at the hall that night; so we made haste to get

supper, after which we changed our suits and at once repaired to the

scene of action. The play was “Ten Nights in a Bar Room.” I tell you it

was a real play, too,--there was no fiction about it,--for the hall was

a perfect bar room; and I am sure the actors had been there at least ten

nights, and not long absent in the _day-time_. Well, I had seen so much

of this that it was to me an old thing; but to the _boys_ it was rather

_exciting_. This place is situated among the hills and low mountains;

and while it is not large, and does not promise to _be so_, it is very

enterprising, and everything is lively. And there are some very good

citizens living here. Of course everything is high; though a very good

meal can be had for fifty cents. It is a wholesale place for many

mining-camps and stock-firms, as well as a supply-camp for the many

emigrants who are constantly going into the mountains. In the winter

season, when the mines are blocked with snow, many of the miners come

down here to board until the season comes round again. They usually have

considerable money; and though a great deal of it is _gambled_ away, the

hotel men do very well,--for they are the gamblers,--and there are

several fine houses here.

To stand upon a high bluff north of town just before sunrise on a clear,

bright morning in the summer-season, when the breath of the town is

warm, and look out in the distance upon Pike’s Peak, which rears its

snow-summit among the little cumuli, looking like the crowned king of

the _greenhorns_ with his white mantle upon him, and see the long range

extending far to the north and south upon either side, with a trail of

snow upon its crest, the beauty of mountain scenery appears in all its

perfection. When the wind comes from that direction, the breeze brings

with it the mountain breath; and oh, how lovely! Persons taking their

_first view_ of the mountains from this place are, without exception,

greatly struck with the grandeur, and are anxious to rove among the

snow-limbed pines. We were not _exceptions_, either; and after supplying

ourselves with the necessaries, we pushed off toward the beautiful and

attractive scenery. We were told before leaving Pueblo that the distance

to the peak was sixty-five miles; but before we had completed our first

day’s journey we concluded that we were misinformed. The distance

appeared very short; and we fully expected that at an early hour the

next day we could be ascending the mountain-side. The next morning we

arose early, and casting our eyes westward we beheld the towering,

silver-tipped mount in such grandeur as to far surpass our first view;

and we saw the power and beauty of nature in a single scene. We then for

the first time fully realized that to view mountain scenery in its

superlative aspect, it must be done from the eastern side, and just

before sunrise. We all began to estimate as to how far we had to travel

before reaching the object of our attraction. I--though used to the

_prairie_--thought the distance about five miles, Will about ten, while

Doc. offered to bet any amount that it was not over _three_ miles, and

that he could walk over there in an hour. Soon after we journeyed on,

_each_ feeling confident that a few hours’ travel would prove his

judgment as to distance. Presently, however, a man came riding by; and

each of us being eager to know who had guessed the nearest to the

distance, I inquired of the rider, whom we expected would know the

distance to a _certainty_. To our great disappointment and surprise, he

responded, “Just forty-five miles.” Certainly this appeared very

unreasonable; for nothing was plainer than that the peak was just by our

very side; and we could plainly see the little pines and cedars upon its

side. We were asked to not believe _our own eyes_. We found, however,

that we were rightly informed. Such is the deception which the

inexperienced are often bound to meet in this strange country. This

deception arises partly from the _immensity_ of the _object_, but more

especially from the _atmosphere_, which in this country is very dry and

clear; for the less dense the atmosphere, the greater the distance of

vision.

The next day we came into the beautiful little town of Colorado Springs.

The reader would naturally infer that from the name given to the place

we were now really at the springs so often mentioned by the tourist; but

really they are situated five miles west of here, and I shall have

occasion to speak of them hereafter.

It was now the _Sabbath-day_, and we concluded to remain here until the

morrow. After selecting a suitable spot upon which to camp, we changed

our suits and were soon wending our way through the streets toward the

little Presbyterian church. Here, although _entire strangers_, we were

at once directed to the most comfortable seats, and were regarded with

so much respect by the citizens that we again made a similar visit in

the evening.

We were now within five miles of the base of the mountain already

referred to; and as morning came and twilight dawned upon our little

camp, all were busy preparing to complete the distance to the object

which stood so majestically towering before us, with our minds fully

absorbed with thoughts of climbing its rocky sides and standing upon its

cool, snowy summit.

Before leaving here I desire to say a few words by way of description of

this pretty little place. The town--the population of which is about six

thousand souls--is situated on the Denver & Rio Grande Railway. It is

neatly laid off in perfect squares, the streets all being of the same

width. Along either side of each street are rows of beautiful, thrifty

trees, which almost meet their heads over the pass-way, rendering them

cool and delightful; while the water rolls in cool, crystal streamlets

at either side of every street. The buildings are all remarkably neat;

and there are two or three very large and magnificent hotels, with all

modern improvements and conveniences. Take it all in all, Colorado

Springs is certainly the most beautiful place we had ever seen. But as I

do not wish to weary the reader with long and tedious _descriptions_, I

must hasten to future events.

When we arrived within half a mile of the famous springs we camped among

the bushes on the bank of a little stream that flowed down from among

the mountains, in order that our team might have _water_ and good

pasture. We then proceeded the rest of the way on foot.

Our attention was attracted by the many vehicles passing to and

fro,--some very fine _carriages_ drawn by beautiful matched teams. On

closer observation we found that the passengers were usually lying in

beds prepared for the purpose, and apparently sleeping. On inquiry, we

learned that these were _invalids_; and as they were unable to occupy

any other posture, on account of physical weakness, they were taking

their exercise in that way. Here might be seen numbers of such invalids

from all parts of the Union. They are usually affected with _pulmonary_

disease, and consequently come here to breathe the pure mountain-air and

to drink of nature’s healing fountains.

The springs are situated in a deep hollow near the base of the peak; and

three splendid hotels, with a few dwellings, a livery-stable, a grocery,

etc., constitute the town of Manitou, the asylum of the _afflicted_,

with whom the large hotels are often crowded.

Well, we first came to the _sulphur_ spring; but after tasting its

water--which proved to be not very palatable--we proceeded to the next,

which we found to be soda-water. There is a beautiful polished rock,

about six feet square and quite thick, carved out like a basin and

placed over this spring, to receive the clear, cool waters that

constantly bubble up through the silver-sand. We had yet one spring to

visit, and this was the iron-spring; so, after seeing it and tasting of

its waters, I told the boys that I had now tasted _all_ of them, and

that I preferred water without mineral. Will suggested that it might be

like beer--it does not taste so well at first, but it does not take long

to get used to it. Doc. thought that the greatest objection was, the

springs were half a mile from camp, and a mile would be a long way to go

every time a fellow wanted a drink. So he accordingly procured a little

brown jug; and after it was filled we started back for camp. We had not

gone far when of a sudden the cork flew forcibly from the jug; and

striking Will on the most prominent feature of his face, it brought

forth a few strains of Colorado eloquence. Here Will set the jug down

and positively refused to carry it farther; “for,” said he, “if the rest

of you want to run the risk of drinking that water, all right. But I

don’t calculate to take any chances; for who knows but what the blamed

stuff might blow a fellow up?”

We spent some days wandering up and down the lovely passes and sitting

beneath the little trees on the brinks of the clear springs from whose

waters we daily drew. To attempt to describe this place as it really is

would be undertaking an impossibility; for the beautiful green slopes of

the surrounding mountains, upon which the tasteful hand of Providence

has planted her most lovely pines, the great silver-topped monument to

the west that rears its head far above the clouds as if to call down the

blessing of Heaven upon the pools below and guiding the afflicted to the

fountain of life, the little springs away up in the bluffs that send

their clear, icy waters rippling down the mountain-sides among the

pretty trees, are all too _perfect_ and _beautiful_ for the human hand

to imitate or the mind to imagine.

The _medicinal_ qualities of the springs, too, are very great; for many

persons who reached their green brinks exhausted, emaciated, and pale as

death have felt new strength at the first draught, and in a few weeks

the thin form, with the slow, faint pulse, is as a new person, and the

color is seen coming to the cheek.

The cool breath of the mountain, which constantly kisses this little

paradise during even the sultry months of summer, together with the

beautiful surrounding scenery, are _alone_ enough to delight the heart,

banish the dull feeling of affliction, and tune the aching heart with

health and happiness.

The large, fine _hotels_ at _this place_ and at _Colorado Springs_ are

principally occupied by _invalids_ who come with _fortunes_; while there

are hundreds of _wagons_ standing among the trees, with _tents_ by their

sides, in which _they_ stay who come with spare frames and sparer

fortunes. I have gone among these many wagons; and while I found some

comfortably located, with all necessaries and conveniences, I also found

some wretched families, with scarcely enough to eat and not sufficient

clothing to hide their wasted frames. Some are stretched upon miserable

couches, with the shades of death upon their countenances. Medical skill

has broken the feeble means, but life continues to waste; and now, with

the last few cents, they come to drink of the _free_ fountain of

_Nature_. I have often thought, as I saw so many afflicted gathered

round these wells, of the healing waters of which the _Bible_ speaks,

which the angel came down to trouble. While there are deaths _now_ and

_then_, a greater portion of the invalids go away mended.

Besides _afflicted_ persons, there are many wealthy families who come

here to recuperate and spend the summer-season. They usually lodge at

Colorado Springs, and take their daily rides down to Manitou

fountains,--often in the finest vehicles, with beautifully matched

teams, which are kept for this purpose. What a _contrast_ between these

hale, hardy persons, who are rolling in luxury and happiness, and those

fever-racked invalids in the little tents on the hill-side.

The water is very _unpalatable_; and though a person can not drink more

than a swallow or two at _first_, by sipping at it daily it will at

length taste very well, and can be drank freely. The _soda-spring_ is

used the _most_, though the others are best in many cases--according to

the complaint.

Here is the place, sick friends, to drink;

For the angel of life stands on the brink.

We were all very anxious to ascend _Pike’s Peak_; but upon inquiry we

found it to be thirteen miles from Manitou to the summit, and was

usually ascended by burroes (donkeys), which were kept there for that

purpose. Accordingly, arrangements were made for starting the next day.

Before the appointed time we went among the long-eared herd which was

soon to take us up the mountain-side, each one wondering which one would

be selected for his seat, and how the ugly things would ride anyhow.

Here we learned that four other tourists were to accompany us--this

increasing our number to eight, including the driver. At the appointed

hour the saddles were placed upon these little _samsons_, and without

halter or bridle we mounted for the trip. Will remarked as he mounted

that the people in Nebraska always rode with bridles, and that he

thought it a very poor way anyhow to place your life within the power of

a d----d jackass. A loud yell from the driver, and the herd started

forward. As the road was not unusually rough for a mountainous country,

nor the ascent very steep, we got along very well the first mile; but

then the road became very rough. And so steep was the ascent that often

the little creatures that carried us stood almost perpendicular upon

their hind feet, and the path was so narrow that we had to go single

file. Thus we went on, the driver remaining in the rear, applying a

great whip to the burroes without mercy whenever necessity required it.

At the expiration of about three hours we came to the half-way house,

and halted to partake of some refreshments and to warm by the fire, as

the air was getting _cool_. Soon the driver announced the time to start

on, and we remounted. We were now above _timber-line_; and nothing

appeared before us but the bald and rugged mountain. On we went, winding

our course among the huge rocks and up the gorges until we arrived at

such an elevation that breathing became difficult, and one of our

companions began bleeding at the nose. Here our new companions announced

their inability to go any farther; and they proceeded at once upon the

return. After bidding them good-by, we, together with the guide, pushed

forward, determined to stand upon Pike’s Peak, or find that it was

_impossible_ to do so. As we ascended the air continued to grow lighter,

and affected our breathing considerably; but we were now nearing the

summit, and being so absorbed with glowing thoughts of standing upon the

great peak, we still went on, uttering no word of complaint. At length

we arrived upon the summit. The dutiful little creatures swung their

long ears back and forth as though they felt as glad as we. Here we

were, fourteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, far above all

surrounding objects, and naught but the horizon to bound our vision.

There is here a United States signal-station; and the officer lives in a

little stone house. He says that he stays here the year round, going

down to the valley now and then; and Indians never bother him. He says

that the elevation does not affect him much, as he had become somewhat

_used_ to the light air. Upon inquiry concerning the weather, he told us

that he was sometimes visited by violent thunder-storms; and the

lightning played upon the mountain-top, at times ingulfing him in

electric fire and rocking his little house. Dense clouds of vapor hung

around the mountain far below, and we fully realized that we were indeed

above the clouds. After descending we learned that while we were upon

the summit, with the sun brightly shining above our heads and the snow

glittering beneath our feet, a fine _warm_ shower was falling from the

clouds into the valley below. After having enjoyed the novelty of wading

snow-banks in the summer-season to our satisfaction, we were ready to

descend. So, with many happy wishes for our mountain friend, we began to

go down. This, however, was not very _pleasant_; for every step the

burro made he jerked his rider severely. Will remarked that he did not

mind riding donkeys as long as they stood on their hind feet; but he

could not go it when they stood on their heads. It is certainly

_remarkable_ to see these small animals carrying more than their own

weight upon their backs; and, notwithstanding the steepness and

roughness of the road, they seldom lose their footing,--though I once

saw one descending a steep bluff with a load upon his back that made him

groan, and losing his footing, he tumbled down the mountain and dashed

his life out upon the rocks in the gully below. They have proved to be

of great _service_ in mountain regions; and hundreds of them are daily

climbing and descending their rocky sides.

In due time our party arrived safely at Manitou--the trip having cost us

just five dollars apiece. We had now _seen_ and _experienced_ the

changes in the atmosphere from the lovely valley below, to the

mountain-top far above the clouds. We had gone in one day from where the

air was perfumed with the odor of sweet, tinted blossoms and flowers, to

the land of snow-banks where vegetation did not grow. We had seen the

tall, graceful pines dwindle to low, dwarfy shrubbery, and then give way

to the cold, bare mountain. It was a _lesson_--a practical and

instructive one. We now felt considerably exhausted, which we manifested

by retiring an hour earlier than usual. We felt a little sore the next

morning, but were soon as nimble as ever. It usually takes between five

and six hours to ascend, and between four and five to descend; and many

persons can not stand it to go up at all. The trip should not be made in

one day.

We had now been here some days; and though it seemed to us a life-time

could be spent in this beautiful valley, we were compelled to leave for

other scenes.

The Garden of the Gods, so often spoken of by the tourist as a pretty

place, we learned was but two miles off; and we concluded to visit this

natural curiosity. The road to the garden wound like a serpent among the

rugged, rocky mountains, and with much difficulty we passed along. It

was not long before we came to a curious object. It was the wonderful

balancing rock. This huge stone, weighing many tons, rests upon another

stone with a foundation of but about a foot. It is apparently just

balanced, and looks as though it could be tilted by little power. It is

a wonder; and we gazed upon it with interest. The road ran by its side,

and it appeared to be somewhat risky to drive by. Will said he would go

and throw it over; and he was soon seen with his shoulder against the

mountain of stone, fully believing himself able to overbalance the rock.

But his strength was not a _mite_ to what was _required_, and he gave it

up. I found that there was no _danger_, and drove by in safety. Another

mile among the brush and rocks, where the trail of the mountain-goat was

fresh, and we passed between two gigantic natural pillars of stone, and

opened into a level, lovely valley, about six hundred yards in length

and two hundred in breadth, richly carpeted with soft, green grass.

Surrounding it were towering rocks of red granite some three hundred

and thirty-seven feet high, and of all shapes,--some of them presenting

a grotesque though beautiful appearance. Occasionally there might be

seen a little grass-spot, with here and there a bush, away up in the

mountain crevices, among which sported the birds of gaudy plumage,

singing their sweet songs of glee. The little conies sported here and

there from rock to rock, and the mountain-sheep, with their long snowy

coats, stood far up among the bluffs looking shyly upon us; and we sat

viewing the surrounding curiosities. How appropriate the name “Garden of

the Gods!” We camped here for the night at the foot of what is known to

the tourist as the perpendicular rocks. Up in the mountain just outside

the garden was a pretty little lake of clear water, and taking a bucket

I started up with the team to water them and bring some to camp. Will,

being much attracted by the _scenery_, at once began climbing the rocks,

expecting to arrive at an elevation from which to obtain a more

extensive view of the surroundings, while Doc. remained at the wagon

loading shells for our rifles. Scarcely had I arrived at the lake when I

became startled by the cries of Will, who was now rushing, rolling, and

tumbling down the mountain toward the wagon, yelling out, “Bear, bear!”

I hastened to the wagon, and, seizing my big rifle, started to the

rescue. Doc. had already _arrived_; but the terrified Will rushed down

the gorge like an arrow, with his hat in one hand and his gun in the

other, not noticing us nor slackening his speed until he was safely in

the wagon-bed; and he did not stop his noise until he was tired out. We

struck bruin’s trail in the sand and followed it for some distance, and

at length caught sight of him; but before I could salute him with a

rifle-ball he entered a dark cave among the mighty rocks. We went to the

mouth and dared him out; but he did not come, and we had _good reasons_

for not going in. He was a medium-sized black bear, and looked as though

he might be a pretty good squeezer. The chase was now ended, and after

procuring a few specimens of rock we went to camp. Will had quieted

down, and upon our making fun of him and asking him why he did not shoot

the bear, he said that it was so rough up among the rocks to skin an

animal, and so far down to the wagon to carry the meat, that he thought

the bear would follow him right into camp, where he would kill him and

have it handy. The scheme would have appeared very plausible could he

have explained that infernal _yelling_. Presently, upon looking upward,

we saw a mountain-squirrel skipping about among the rocky ledges; and as

the sharp report of a six-shooter rang out upon the evening breeze, we

were delighted to know that we were to have rich squirrel-soup for

supper. Night soon came on, and the blankets were spread for retiring.

But Will was excited, and said that he did not calculate to take his

_chances_ of going to sleep in a place where the bears were sticking

among the rocks, and panthers and wild cats were working their

scratchers out and in, practicing for a grab, while rattlesnakes were

looking out at us from every little bunch of grass; “for,” said he, “the

devil knows what may happen, and no one be awake to see it.” I felt very

sure that Will would not sleep much that night; and knowing that if he

saw danger he would make noise enough to awaken us and alarm even bruin

himself,--as he did before,--we concluded to retire as usual, taking the

precaution, however, to picket the horses close to camp, as they readily

scent strange animals and snort; and this was also a guard.

In the morning after breakfast we took a short ramble, looking at the

many curiosities and natural beauties in and around this lovely green

pass. Hundreds of names are carved or written upon the rocks here; and

the names of Miller and Llewellen are painted in large letters upon the

very crest of a rock several hundred feet high. The side upon which the

_names_ are written is as perpendicular as though it had been hewed down

by human design; and it is also very steep on the other side, where the

parties must have climbed up and then leaned over in the swimming space

to write. It must have required great labor to get there; and nothing

but a burning, ambitious desire to be where man had never been,--and

where so few could go,--could have led these men to climb so far in the

air and register their names upon the very margin of the death-register;

for if, in climbing, the foot or hand hold had given way, the body would

have been precipitated to the level without hope.

Glory is sought in curious places,

Over land and on the sea;

But these were its _faintest traces_--

So at least it seemed to _me_.

We were not as full of adventure as _they_; so _we_ cut our names in the

base of a smooth, red rock that towered far above us and came to a

point like a spire.

While working here we noticed a small hole at the bottom of the same

rock, just large enough for a man to crawl through; and upon examination

we found that it was the entrance to a cave. The hole was smooth, and

looked as though it had been used. It took some time to convince Will

that the _bear_ he had seen could not get in there. But at length we all

concluded to enter the dark dungeon; so, after _arming_ ourselves, we

took a lantern and a few tallow candles and crawled in. After going but

a few feet we could stand erect; and then, each with a light in his

hand, we penetrated the cavern, which ran into the body of the solid

rock. It was twenty feet high and ten feet wide, and so _ascending_ that

we were obliged to crawl upon our hands and knees as we proceeded. The

floor was covered with dust from the rocks; and in this we could see

many tracks, some imitating the wild cat and the panther. We did not

know what we might come in contact with; but being full of _curiosity_

we crawled on until we came to the end, which was fully twenty yards

from the entrance. Here a small stream of water gushed forth from the

side of the cavern, and, after running a short way, terminated in a

small pool worn in the rocky floor, from which it sunk unperceived away.

We tasted the water, and found it cool and pure; and in the lamplight it

glittered like crystal. We now descended to the entrance, and looking

carefully at the wall we found several names cut there, apparently some

years since; and we registered there also, and then made our exit.

We had now seen all the curiosities of this beautiful garden, and

prepared to leave. It is only possible to travel through the rugged

mountains by way of the natural passes; and we were compelled to go out

by the _balancing rock_--the way we entered. The road was rough and

narrow; but we passed along, conversing of the great beauties of nature,

and at sunset we stopped for the night upon our old camping-ground near

Manitou.

During the evening we had conversations with several persons familiar

with the surrounding country; and they gave a glowing account of the

South Park, representing it to be a beautiful, open country, lying just

over the Green Horn range, about forty-five miles from Manitou, and

that it abounded with deer, antelope, elk, etc., and that a large _bear_

had been killed but a few days before among the South Park pines. We

were also informed that this was a favorite hunting-ground, and that

small bands of _Indians_, who claimed the ground, were constantly

wandering through the park in search of game; and considering white

hunters _trespassers_, they often gave them much _trouble_. I had

already seen many of the red race, could speak many words in their own

tongue, and had become so used to their appearance that the quills and

plumes did not scare me much; and the boys being delighted to hear of a

country which afforded an opportunity to try their new guns, we

_determined_ to visit the place, notwithstanding a little danger.

CHAPTER II.

Start for South Park--Ute Pass--Rainbow Falls--South Park--Bear

Fight--Leadville--Sallie Ray--Chimney

Gulch--Trout-Fishing--Denver--Cheyenne--Black Hills--Bitter

Creek--Antelope Springs--Wolf Adventure--Green River--Old Emigrant

Road--Echo Canon--Utah--Park City--Ontario Mine--Quartz-Mill--Kinds

of Mines--Prospecting--Start for Salt Lake.

The next morning we rose at the dawn of day, and after breakfast we

filled our jug with soda-water and journeyed for South Park. There was

but one accessible route from this place in that direction, and that was

up through the famous Ute Pass.

We had gone about a mile up the pass when we came to the Rainbow Falls,

to the left of the narrow road. The waters of a mountain stream roll

over a precipice one hundred feet high; and as it dashes over the rough,

projecting crags and is lashed into foam against the rocky sides, its

roaring can be heard far up and down the pass. During the forenoon in

summer the sun reaches this place, and, striking the crystal waters as

they roll over a certain large rock, a most perfect and beautiful

rainbow, with brightest tints, is reflected upon the rocks at the side

of the chasm. Hence the name, “Rainbow Falls.” Tourists to Manitou are

usually taken up here on burros.

The walls on either side of the pass were a couple of hundred feet high,

and at some places almost met over our heads; and the gorge was so

narrow that there were but few places where wagons could pass. It

appears as though an all-wise Hand had hewed out this pass with an

express design; for there would be no other possible way by which these

rugged and towering mountains could be crossed. Though the way was yet

rough and steep, we greatly appreciated our privilege.

It was now necessary for one of us to go on ahead to give the proper

warning to outfits coming down the pass; and though we had traveled but

about fifteen miles it was dark when we came to the top of the range,

and our horses were much fatigued; and having walked all the way

ourselves to lighten the load, we also felt much worried, not being used

to mountain travel. So as soon as the horses were properly cared for

and supper was over, we at once prepared our couches and lay down to

sleep on the cold crest of the Green Horn range, at an elevation of ten

thousand feet above the sea. The night was very cool; but we were among

the pines, and building a good, warm fire, we slept quite comfortably.

We had just laid down when the horses set up such a snorting as to

plainly indicate that something strange was nearing our camp. Quickly

buckling on our belts and snatching our rifles we ran into the darkness,

and crawling cautiously in the direction indicated by the frightened

animals, we lay flat, awaiting the approach of some wild animal, or

thinking that perhaps Indians were lurking around the camp watching for

our team. Presently the rustle of a chain was heard, and Will excitedly

growled out: “Boys, the devil’s got us this time; he has his chain

along.” Soon the object could be seen slowly moving toward us, and from

its appearance I was slow to contradict Will’s assertion. However, as it

came nearer we found it to be a burro, with a chain to its neck. This

little creature had probably strayed from its owner, or perhaps escaped

from a massacred outfit, and not wishing to be alone had come to our

camp by the fire-light. After scouting around camp a short distance, we

again lay down.

The next morning, though in the heart of summer, the water that we had

left in a bucket was frozen so hard that it could hardly be broken with

the hand. Taking an early start we renewed our journey.

We were yet about thirty miles from the park; but being now upon the top

of the ridge, and the rest of the road descending all the way, we

expected to camp in sight of the park that night. Instead of walking all

the way, as the day before, we could now have the satisfaction of riding

at least part of the way. We were not used to such hills; and we soon

concluded that it was easier to go up-hill than down. The road was in

some places so steep that we had to lock all the wheels and tie a log in

front of the hind wheels, and then tie ropes to the wagon and hold back

besides, to assist the horses in their descent. It was very tiresome;

but we went down pretty rapidly, and at sunset we camped by a little

spring that nestled beneath a large rock in sight of the great South

Park.

The next morning we went down into the park in search of a good place to

camp. In a mile or two we came to a little stream, and after following

its meanderings a few hundred yards we found it bubbling from a

beautiful spring at the foot of a high bluff. The whole surrounding was

carpeted with richest pasturage; and now having the two most necessary

elements for the forming of a first-class camp, namely, water and

pasture, we concluded to stop here while hunting through the park.

The description given us of this valley was not in the least

exaggerated; for it would be difficult to imagine a more delightful

place. One does not appreciate a pretty valley until he has climbed

around awhile among the rough, barren mountains where the wild goat

harbors; and then when he comes from the rocky cliff into an opening

like this, several miles in length and a _half mile broad_, the floor

almost level and richly carpeted, dotted here and there with little

quakenasp groves, among which the fountains head and send their crystal

streams down the pretty green slopes, he sees it in its fullness, and

justifies the name “park,” or even paradise.

We looked upon the surroundings and were delighted; and we congratulated

ourselves upon our good fortune in having the opportunity to behold this

beautiful garden of nature.

Having been warned of the Indians, our first work was to prepare a

little fort for a retreat, should it be necessary. There were several

trees that had been blown up by the roots lying close to camp; and

cutting these into logs we rolled them in shape and made quite a fort.

Will was now left here while Doc. and myself started out through the

park in search of meat for supper.

After roving around for some time, viewing the pretty valley and looking

for game, we caught sight of a herd of deer; but being too far off we

did not shoot, and disappearing in a quakenasp grove they were not seen

again.

We were already quite a distance from camp; and as the sun was fast

disappearing behind the mountains, we now felt the necessity of

retracing our steps. On nearing camp, Doc. succeeded in killing a large

jack-rabbit; and this, with some nice biscuits, was our supper.

The shades of night had now gathered, and we prepared to retire. The

horses were brought near camp, and driving the large iron picket-pins

deeply into the earth, they were firmly fastened, lest they should break

loose and escape should anything extraordinary occur. The fire was now

extinguished, that no enemy would be directed by it to our camp; and we

lay down within our little fort to sleep. Nature could not have formed a

more beautiful night. The sky was thickly studded with stars, and not a

cloud was to be seen. The zephyrs softly and noiselessly fanned the

valley, and but one noise could be heard--that was the sweet murmur of

the little brook which rippled among the roots and pebbles by the very

side of our bed. We for the first time felt lonely, and realized that

the music of nature is sweet. Soon our eyes were closed in slumber; and

without even a dream to disturb us, we slept sweetly until morn.

We ate a hearty breakfast,--which was chiefly the rich, delicious flesh

of the antelope,--and then concluded to make another hunting-expedition,

similar to the one the day before. Our belts were filled with

cartridges, and our six-shooters and knives were buckled about us; and

taking our big rifles, we left Will in camp as usual, and went off down

the park. We came to a stream that rolled down the mountain-side among

the thick pines; and knowing that deer kept in the thickets during the

day, coming out night and morning to eat in the clear valleys, we

concluded to follow this stream up the mountain. We caught sight of

game on several occasions; but the timber was so dense that we could not

see it until frightened, and we arrived at the mountain-top at twelve

o’clock without making a successful shot. I now sought a clear place;

and climbing upon a huge rock I placed the field-glass to my eyes, and

looking down over the tree-tops into the valley below I could plainly

see our camp. The horses were quietly grazing near by, and Will, from

his position at the fire, was probably getting dinner. As everything

seemed quiet, we felt no uneasiness concerning camp; and being but about

four or five miles therefrom, we started over the opposite side of the

mountain. We soon came to a small crystal lake; and for the first time

since entering the park we saw Indian signs. There were many tracks upon

the brink of the lake; and some being quite fresh, we were convinced

that we came but a little too late for company. Several small canoes

were floating loosely upon the water, and we supposed them to be used

merely as pleasure-boats; for as the lake was about one hundred yards in

diameter, they could be of but little use in travel. A boat-ride in the

wild mountains is a rarity, and Indian or no Indian,

[Illustration: THE MOUNTAIN LAKE.]

we concluded to have a boat-ride right there. So stepping aboard, I

plied the rude oars, and we shot over the lake. It was fine sport, and

we felt pretty good over a free boat-ride. After the first excitement

had worn off, we began to consider our position. We were rowing the

Indian’s canoe upon his own waters, and if seen by him would be

considered trespassers; and at that very moment the eagle-eyes might be

watching us from the surrounding pine-thickets. Though we did not care a

darn for the trespass, we fully realized our helpless position in case

of an attack, so we pulled for the shore.

Half of the afternoon had already passed away, and feeling pretty good

over the boat-ride, we started for camp. About an hour before sunset we

came to a very rugged part of the mountain, and feeling considerably

wearied we sat down upon a log to rest. While looking around at the

pretty scenery, we saw a small woolly animal lying in the leaves at the

foot of the tree upon which we sat. It was apparently asleep; and

approaching it cautiously we got within a few steps of it, when it

discovered us and sprung to its feet. It was a cub bear. We rushed upon

it, captured it, and concluded to take it to camp alive. The little

fellow kept up a continuous growling and snapping; and after finding

itself completely overpowered it uttered a loud, piercing cry, which was

answered by a terrific roar just behind us in the bushes. Doc. said we

had played h----l now; and turning around we beheld two large grizzly

bears, with roach up and froth on their lips, rush out of the bushes but

a few rods away, and with angry snarls were coming upon us. The grizzly

bear is the most ferocious of the bear tribe, and will attack the hunter

with the most desperate and persevering fierceness, especially in the

defense of its young. The brutes were closely upon us, and not a moment

was to be lost. Raising our large rifles to our shoulders, we both fired

at the same instant; but, unfortunately, both shots were fired at the

same bear, which for a moment stood paralyzed and then fell over dead.

The other one was already standing upon his hind feet within a few feet

of Doc., extending his affectionate arms for a hug, and from the looks

of his mouth, a kiss too. In attempting to reload his rifle he found

that the shell had stuck in the chamber, so dropping the rifle he drew

his six-shooter; but before he could fire it was knocked from his hand

by the powerful paw. Again Doc. grabbed up his gun, and by repeated

blows with the heavy barrel over the nose, which is the most tender part

of the bear, he succeeded for a few minutes in keeping bruin at bay. All

this was the work of an instant, and I saw the necessity of a shot from

my big rifle to stop the infuriated beast. So, having shoved a cartridge

into the chamber, I took deliberate aim at the heart and fired. The bear

shifted just as I pulled, and instead of the ball striking the heart, it

entered a few inches above the intended mark, crushing the

shoulder-bone. This completely disabled the left fore leg, and the

animal fell at the report of the gun; but after rolling over two or

three times upon the ground, he again reared upon his hind feet and

renewed the contest with apparently increased fury. We now used the

six-shooters,--known as forty-fives,--and which were also deadly

weapons. Nine shots were fired, when the frenzied beast became subdued

and fell dead at our feet. Upon examination, eight of these shots were

found to be simply flesh-wounds, yet a solitary ball, having penetrated

the heart, would necessarily have produced death. The conflict was now

over, and we looked about for the pet cub. Just around the edge of the

cliff we saw an entrance, leading, as we supposed, into a cave among the

rocks. Here was doubtless the abode of the bruin family; and we supposed

that the cub had gone in, but had no particular desire to go in to see.

We were soon on our way to camp, each carrying a bear-hide and a chunck

of the meat. The hides were dried, and proved to be of much service.

During the day they served as cushions for seats, and when the nights

were cold they were our warmest covering. As we had often heard of

bear-flesh being the most delicious of all meats, we were anxious for a

taste. Accordingly, a quantity was at once placed upon the fire for

supper. We were a little disappointed; but having exercised considerable

during the day, it nevertheless tasted very well.

The next morning we set out to cross the park. About 3:00 P.M. we

arrived at the opposite side, and concluded to camp until the morrow. We

had scarcely halted when a single Indian came out of the pines, and

manifesting friendliness, came up to our camp. He could speak a few

words in English; and we soon found that he wanted a shooting-match. We

disregarded his solicitations for a little while; but he still

presisted. Doc. then took his rifle in his hand, and making him

understand that he was the poorest shot in the party, showed him that he

would shoot. The Indian appeared delighted; and walking away three

hundred yards, he cut a notch in a tree with his tomahawk, and with

utmost satisfaction came back to shoot. He expressed his desire that

Doc. should shoot first; and without ceremony he fired, striking the

center of the white chip. The red-man gave his shoulders a shrug, and

with an “ugh” of surprise he refused to make a shot, and was soon gone

away disgusted into the pines. There were doubtless many others among

the surrounding hills, and this one had perhaps come out to test our

ability with the rifle. They are cautious about approaching the unerring

ball, but at the same time entertain comparatively little fear from the

awkward marksman. They have entertained this dreadful fear of the big

rifle in the hand of a good marksman ever since the year 1860, when a

party down in Texas were rounded up by buffalo-hunters and the most of

them picked off at a very long range. This information is in every

tribe, and will doubtless become proverbial. “Why,” they say, “the big

bullets are whizzing down in Texas yet, hunting Indians.”

The next morning, while preparing breakfast, two other Indians appeared

and asked for something to eat. We did not hesitate to share with them,

and they eat greedily. I might here remark that during the whole of our

extended journey, notwithstanding that we were often approached by the

hungry Indian as well as white man, we never refused to share eat and

drink, no matter how scanty our supply.

Having heard so much about Leadville for the last few months, and seeing

such vast numbers of emigrants daily winding their way to the mountain

of wealth, we concluded to give it a visit also. We could hear the

whistles blow, and see great columns of smoke rising from between the

hills when we were yet fully fifteen miles away. We began to see dead

horses and mules by the way; and as we proceeded the numbers increased

until within a mile or so of the place the way was literally strewed

with dead animals; and there was not a spear of grass left for our

horses to graze. We at length arrived at the great center of excitement;

but the scene I can not describe. The place lies between two ridges,

and is nine thousand feet above the level of the sea. No costly

mansions, built with time and care, adorn the place, and no spacious

business blocks, with their beautiful polished fronts, are seen; but the

great mining metropolis of the Union stands with her hastily-reared

cabins among the green stumps of the late forest, and her hundreds of

tents glitter upon the hill-sides that have been left rugged by the

spade of the hungry miner. Snow glistens upon the crests of the high

mountains in every direction. Its cold breath brings chill to the camp,

and the nights are very cold.

The population is estimated at twenty thousand; and with fully one half

of these miserably located in wagons, and insufficient coverings, there

is much misery. Like unto the finding of gold at the discovery of

America, the populace had been excited far and near, and the greedy

seekers of the precious metal came rushing to this find in the cold,

bleak mountains like perishing cattle to the pool. West-bound trains

were every day behind time with their terrible loads of people, who did

not consider that there could be no accommodations in a place so

rapidly sprung, and the consequences were hunger and exposure. This

resulted in disease; and at one time many were daily swept away by

pneumonia. The horses, too, standing unsheltered upon the

mountain-slopes by the hundreds, with no pasture but the green twigs of

the fallen trees, and the little feed that some of their owners could

afford to buy, contracted diseases; and the town was literally

surrounded with dead animals. Many poor men, depending upon their teams

for support, were entirely broken up. Persons coming by wagons usually

had a small stock of provisions and beds along; but the thousands who

came from the East by rail were at the mercy of those who were prepared

to board and lodge. There were boarding-tents stuck upon the hill-sides,

and, though all could not be accommodated, meals were from one to two

dollars apiece. There were other lodging-cabins, and this was from fifty

to one dollar per night. I have seen persons who just came from the

East, and not wishing to peril their health by exposure in the cold

night-air of the mountain, offer five dollars for a comfortable night’s

lodging. They had plenty of money, but the accommodation was not to be

had; and many a person from a good, warm bed lay here shivering in the

folds of a single thin blanket, and paid an exorbitant price for the

privilege. There was one large hall, which was built at the beginning of

the excitement, and which now rented at seventeen hundred dollars per

month. It was used as a saloon, and had two bars, with two tenders and a

cashier behind each; and day and night the drinks were issued as fast as

these men could tend. The spare part of the hall was let out to lodgers;

and persons paid fifty cents per night to wrap themselves in their own

blankets and sleep spoon-fashion upon the floor. The floor was covered

every night. It would be difficult to even imagine the amount this firm

daily realized. There being no railroad here, everything had to be

freighted in over rough mountain-roads, and of course was very high.

There was but one route by which a railroad could reach the place, and

that was up the grand canon of the Arkansas; and this was just wide

enough for one track. The Denver & Rio Grande and Atchison, Topeka &

Santa Fe companies both saw the great prospect for a road to Leadville,

and they both began to extend their tracks. They came to the canon at

the same time, and a quarrel arose as to which should enter. Each

company employed squads of men to guard its workmen, and gave them five

dollars per day; but great bowlders would tumble down the canon from

several hundred feet above, and thud heavily in the waters below

whenever work was begun. This war was waged for some time, during which

several men were killed. At length United States troops were called to

the scene, and General Sherman came out to quell the war. The matter was

taken to court, and after a decision in favor of the Denver & Rio Grande

Railroad the little narrow-gauge wound up the gorge to the town.

Persons who bought property here at the early stage of the excitement

suddenly rose to men of wealth; for a lot in the heart of town was worth

far more than a lot in the center of Dayton, Ohio. Many shrewd persons

made fortunes here, in various ways; and some lost all they had. I will

venture that there are many returned to the East with Leadville

experience to-day who will consider before they rush wildly to another

find in the cold, bleak mountain in the winter-season.

In connection with this sketch of Leadville I feel constrained also to

add something that will doubtless be interesting to many, as showing

the physical and financial ability of woman as well as Leadville

opportunities. Mrs. Sallie Ray, known as the Leadville washer-woman, has

to-day an income of thirty thousand dollars per annum, owning property

in Leadville that rents for two thousand dollars per month. The

following is a brief history of this wonderful woman: She was born in

the north of Ireland in the year 1830, and came to New York when she was

fifteen years of age. She there married a book-keeper named Joseph

Ordway. He soon died, and she went west to Leavenworth, Kansas. From

there she went to Denver, and finally, in 1867, to Leadville. In Denver

she married a man named Frank Hay; but he died soon after, leaving to

her a daughter, Cora, now a pretty girl of about seventeen years. Her

career has been a peculiarly eventful and exciting one, and would

doubtless make an interesting little volume. She has dug in mines,

fought in Indian wars by the side of her husband, scoured the plains on

horseback as a scout, and became an expert at the business. She braved

the dangers and storms of winter, where Leadville now stands, before

there were houses to inhabit; and she says she used to keep Cora

wrapped up in warm blankets, day and night, to keep her from freezing.

She helped found the city of Leadville, mapped roads, built houses, and

took in washing from the miners. When the place became settled, the land

she had taken up turned into a fortune; and as the silver rattled down

the wash-board she felt herself growing rich. She weighs about one

hundred and forty pounds. Having her property all in the hands of good

agents, she is taking her ease.

There are constantly finds being made that create a great excitement at

first; but in most cases they prove inferior to expectation, and soon

die away. On the contrary, _this_ has proved a good camp; and from the

rich finds that are being made every once in awhile the whole town and

its surroundings appear to be threaded with rich veins of silver-quartz.

We were not greedy or in any wise excited, however, and concluded to

leave the place and steer for Denver, the queen city of the West.

We passed down Chimney Gulch, the great natural pass through the

towering Rocky Mountains, and in which roll the clear waters of a

beautiful mountain-stream.

We camped one evening in this gulch, fifteen miles from Denver, and

thought to try our hands at fishing. We never had _success_ in fishing

in _clear_ waters, where the fish could _see_ us; so, of course, we

sought a place where the water was _shaded_. After finding a place where

the water whirled into foam round a rock, and grass floated on the eddy,

we cast our hooks; but in spite of the soft, delicious fat meat that we

suspended there was nary a bite.

There were some fellows out from the city, also; and they, too, were

fishing, but with better success. They came up to where we were; and

seeing the place in which we were fishing and the bait we used, they

burst into a hearty laugh, and asked us if we were not cat-fishers from

Arkansas. Will was a little insulted at this remark, and told them that

the fishers were all right but the darned _fish_ were just like the

_people_ out west here--used to _eating_ nothing but mud and

grasshoppers, and did not know what meat was.

I was willing to be called anything, so I could catch fish; so I went to

their wagon, and, finding that they had a nice bucket of trout, I

decided to take a little piscatorial information. I learned that trout

stayed only in clear water, and were from six inches to a foot in

length. The fishing is usually done with a fly; that is, a little red

feather tied just over the hook. When _baiting_ is used, grasshoppers

are the _best_; and _meat_ will not do at all. Will was right. The hook

is cast into the water where trout are seen, or where there are rocks or

logs under which they are likely to be, and then dragged up and down to

attract attention. The hook is sometimes drawn past the fish several

times without notice, and of a sudden a dart is made at the fly or bait;

and in either case he usually sticks.

We had better success in our fishing after this lesson; but we also

learned that it took ingenuity and lots of experience to catch speckled

trout. Finding the grasshoppers few, and the best jumpers we ever saw,

we concluded that the fish we could catch would not satisfy the hunger

engendered in capturing the baits; so we gave up the sport to look at

the mountain curiosities.

The walls upon either side of the gulch tower several hundred feet high,

and in some places are almost perpendicular. The gulch is very narrow

here and there, and the stream takes up nearly the whole pass. In these

places the way has been worked and walls of stone have been built. We

thought the people of Denver had done this through _necessity_, and

never even _dreamed_ of a toll-gate. But in the morning, as we came near

the mouth of the gulch, we found a fair tree suspended in the way; and

were asked one dollar, or ten cents per mile, for the privilege of

passing under. Well, there was but one thing to do, for even the

best-trained burro could not climb round the gate, and the man who stood

in the door of his little cabin with his belt of six-shooters on, looked

as though he meant to collect his toll, so we paid the bill and drove

out from the mighty walls upon the pretty level prairie.

It was Sabbath morning, and the sun shone brightly. The tolling of the

church-bells could be distinctly heard, while the spires rose high and

glittered in the sunlight. It was a delightful morning, and we passed

merrily along, anxious to stand in the beautiful streets of the western

Jerusalem. We soon met the folks from the city riding out in their fine

carriages, enjoying the soft, pure, morning air, and we thought of home.

We had a white cover upon our wagon, and as the little ones passed by

they would excitedly call out to pa and ma to look at the gypsies. When

near the city we met two young men on horseback who were disagreeing as

to the distance of the mountains that hung upon the edge of the prairie

in the direction from whence we came. One was acquainted with the

country and _knew_ the distance; but his comrade was insisting that it

was but three miles at most. So, standing as he was between the great

confidence he had in his friend, and his own judgment, based upon real

observation, he came to us acknowledging his fresh arrival from the East

and inexperience in the country, and asked for the truth. We had been in

his fix at Pike’s Peak, and though realizing his position, we told him

it was full fifteen miles, and drove on.

We at length came to the city and camped in a pretty grove upon the

banks of the South Platte that rolls along the edge of the corporation.

It was a cool, delightful spot, and there was a wagon beneath almost

every tree, while great numbers of children were playing in the cool

shade. Some had come here to spend the summer and had large tents up,

and cooking-stoves, and other household furniture. They live

comfortably in the pure, soft, open air. We went into the city, and were

greatly pleased with its fine, large buildings, and pretty, dry streets.

The principal hotels are the American, Interocean, and Grand Central.

These are very fine houses, and are usually crowded to their utmost

during the summer by persons who come here to spend their vacations for

their health. There are persons in Denver who say they came here

hopeless invalids, and to-day they are stout and hearty. The population

is said to be forty thousand; but from the fact that there are so many

transient persons, it is hard to estimate. The post-office is large, and

has three general deliveries, each taking charge of the mail under

certain letters of the alphabet. These deliveries are opened for a short

time whenever a mail arrives; and persons looking for mail have to be on

time. There are so many persons here from the East, and who have no

boxes, that to avoid rushing and confusion they are made to form rows

and march up in regular order--the little one standing an equal show.

These rows sometimes reach clear out of the house and far down the

sidewalk, and persons often stand at the delivery fifteen minutes before

it opens so as to be first; for sometimes the window is closed before

all are served. The city is very thrifty; and at the time we were there

fifteen hundred houses were said to be in process of erection. All kinds

of business is flourishing, and workmen appear to be encouraged. Law is

excepted, for there are more lawyers here than would be necessary to do

three times Denver’s legal business. Just south of the city is located

the largest gold and silver smelter (it is said) in the world. By

miners, farmers, stock-raisers, and tourists the city is supported.

North and east of the city there are several hundred acres of good

farming-land; and the very best crops of wheat, potatoes, oats, etc.,

and some splendid fruit also, are raised. Of course it is all done by

irrigation; but the mountain-streams are near, and the broad, level

fields are easily flooded.

Our next place was Cheyenne, Wyoming, which lay about one hundred and

ten miles to the north; so taking a last look we left the beautiful city

behind and journeyed up the Kansas Pacific Railway. There was a

well-broken road all the way, and we glided smoothly along, crossing

over the Little Thompson Creek, and near by Fort Collins, and soon

entered the city. It is situated upon the north bank of a branch of the

South Platte, called Crow Creek, and is surrounded by barren hills. The

great Union Pacific Railroad runs through the place, and the Colorado

Central and Kansas Pacific roads terminate here. There is a great deal

of mining-machinery manufactured here, and this, with the railroad

shops, stock-raising, and the government fort near by, is what supports

the town. The town is somewhat scattered, and the buildings are mostly

old and very common. There are many saloons and gambling-houses; and

though there are undoubtedly some _good_ citizens here, the people

generally are pretty rough characters--the female portion not excepted.

However, the place is not nearly so notorious as years ago, when it is

said they used to have a man every morning for breakfast. We paid here

four cents per pound for potatoes, three cents for corn, five cents for

flour, and for other things in proportion.

Our young friend William Gray here concluded that things were not like

they were in old native Nebraska,--to which he was fervently attached;

and not wishing to experience any more changes, see any more Indians, or

get any farther from home, he concluded to go back where father’s

chimney helped make the morning fog. So, mounting his pony, he bid us

good-by, and loped out of sight down the railroad with a light heart,

and the determination to live and die and be buried in blessed old

Nebraska.

Will had hardly gone when two young men named June and Hugh Goodrich

came to our camp; and finding that we were on our way to California, and

that we wanted company, they made application, and we concluded to go

together. They were brothers, and were then on their way from Missouri

to Oregon. We were in camp together but a few days until we found that

though they were _inexperienced_, they were nevertheless good, honest

boys; and we were proud of our new companions.

We now started for the notorious Black Hills that lay along both sides

of the line between Wyoming and Dakota, and one hundred miles to the

north. There was a wagon-road leading from Cheyenne directly to the

hills, and taking this we crossed over the Platte River. In a few days

we were in sight of the hills. They are high, rugged, and perfectly

barren, and the surface is so dark as to have the appearance of burnt

prairie. Hence, the name Black Hills. We pushed on up to Camp Bradley,

and then visited some of the mines. The miners say that this is

undoubtedly the richest mining-district in the West; but for mining

there is much water needed, and this they lack. The artesian experiment

is being tried, but thus far with poor success. But should this

eventually succeed, mining-stock in the Black Hills will be at a

premium. Work is going on, however, but the pannings are light.

The Indians have been a reigning terror to the miners here, and whole

outfits have been murdered on the way, while men were every day shot

down with picks in their hands by the hidden foe. The little camps that

stick here and there among the hills are made up of men who care not for

man or devil; and a rougher set I never saw. They beat cow-boys badly.

There is a saloon and gambling-house in every camp; and could the hills

but speak, they would tell of crimes as black as the sands upon their

slopes. The hills can be seen from one or two points on the Union

Pacific Railroad. There is a branch railroad being now built from the

Union Pacific a little west of Cheyenne to the hills.

We now came down the north fork of the Cheyenne, then over on the

Powder, and then down the Platte to the Union Pacific Railroad again,

and started west. We soon came to Rawlings, a place spoken of in

connection with the White River agency massacre as where the troops left

the railroad to go to the scene. We now opened into a dry, sandy desert,

and were compelled to make forty and fifty mile drives, with the wheels

rolling deep in the soft surface, to reach water.