with the savages, as well as with the scarcely less intractable
Kansans, their first years in the Far West could not be called
altogether pleasant. Many a time have their lives been in danger from
bands of outlaw immigrants, who, dissatisfied with not finding gold
lying about as they had expected, sought to revenge themselves upon the
settlers, whom they considered in fault for having led the way. Their
personal bravery went far toward bringing to a close this reign of
terror and transforming the lawless settlement into a permanent and
prosperous town. Still in the prime of life, they look back with
pleasure over their most hazardous experiences, for time has softened
the dangers and cast over them the glow of romance. And while none are
more familiar with everything concerning the early history of Pueblo, it
is equally true that none are more ready to gratify an appreciative
listener, and the writer is indebted for much that follows to their
inimitable recitals.

About the first work of any note undertaken in connection with the new
town was the building of a bridge across the Arkansas. This was
accomplished in 1860, when a charter was obtained from Kansas and a
structure of six spans thrown across the river. It was a toll-bridge,
and every crossing team put at least one dollar into the pockets of its
owners. But trouble soon overtook the management. While one of the
proprietors was in New Mexico, building a mill for Maxwell upon his
famous estate, the other was so unfortunate as to kill three men, and
was obliged, as Steph Smith felicitously expressed it, to "skip out."
Thus the bridge passed into other hands, where it remained till it was
partly washed away in 1863. The following little matter of history
connected with its palmy days will be best given in the narrator's own
words: "We had a blacksmith who misused his wife. The citizens took him
down to the bridge, tied a rope around his body and threw him into the
river. They kept up their lick until they nearly drowned the poor cuss,
then whispered to him to be good to his wife or his time would be short.
He took the hint, used his wife well, and everything was lovely. That
was the first cold-water cure in Pueblo, and I ain't sure but the last."
This incident serves to illustrate the inherent character of American
gallantry, for, however wild or in most respects uncivilized men may
appear to become under the influence of frontier life, instances are
rare in which wo