Alden the Pony Express rider

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

When the head came about, and Alden saw what the pony meant, he gave him a vigorous kick on the end of his nose. ’Ceph wasn’t pleased with that, and after a brief wait tried to bite the other ankle. Alden promptly kicked him harder than before.

Evidently that wasn’t the right way to overcome the conceited young man, so what did Bucephalus do but suddenly buck? He arched his back, jammed his hoofs together and bounced up and down as if the ground had suddenly become red hot. Alden hadn’t expected anything of the kind, and came within a hair of being unhorsed. He saved himself, braced his legs and body and then let the animal do his best or worst. The youth was sorry he had no spurs, for he would have been glad to drive them into the sides of the mischievous brute. The latter bucked until tired, then spun around as if on a pivot and finally dashed off on a dead run.

Alden let him go unrestrained, knowing he was taking the right course, for he saw plenty of hoof prints in the ground over which they skimmed. It was not difficult for our young friend to keep his seat, and he was rather pleased with the liveliness of the animal.

“There won’t be much of this left in you at the end of fifteen miles, ’Cephy, and I have no objection so long as it doesn’t block the game.”

After a time it was plain the pony had given up the fight. He was galloping steadily, as if like the others, he had but one ambition in life which was to throw the miles behind him in the shortest possible time. All the same, Alden was on his guard. There was no saying what whim might enter the head of the brute. One of his kind will be good for weeks with no other object than to throw a man off his guard. It did not seem likely that such was the case with the animal Alden was riding, though it might be so. He thought it more probably due to a natural exuberance of spirits, which after a time would wear off.

There was no perceptible change in the character of the country through which he was riding until some four or five miles had been traversed. The undulations were trifling and at the end of the distance named, it may be doubted whether horse and rider were ten feet higher or lower than at their starting point. The surface was rough in many places, but not once did ’Ceph slacken his splendid pace, which must have risen to twenty miles an hour. He had to swerve and occasionally make rather long detours to avoid natural obstacles, but he lost no time. Had the conditions lasted he would have covered the fifteen miles well within three-fourths of an hour.

The pony slackened his pace, though still maintaining a gallop, for the ground not only compelled him to veer first to the right and then to the left, but took an upward turn. Following his rule of leaving his animal to his own will, Alden did not touch the reins. The fact that tracks showed on the right and left as well as in front indicated that he was following a well-traveled course, though he could not discern any traces of wagon wheels.

The sun had sunk behind the mountain range which towered to the northwest and the jagged crests were tinted with the golden rays. The scene was grandly beautiful, and though he had looked upon many like it, Alden never lost his admiration of those pictures which are nowhere seen in such majesty and impressiveness as in our own country.

Well to the northward rose a peak, whose white crest showed it was always crowned with snow. Seen in the distance the spotless blanket had a faint bluish tint, caused by the miles of pure, intervening atmosphere. Although the range to his left did not sweep around far enough to cross the course he was pursuing, Alden could not help wondering whether a turn in the trail would not force him to pass through the spur as he had done in the case of the lesser range behind him.