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.”