egs shot
high into the air. First, I went off, and on gaining a sitting
position with mouth, ears and eyes full of sand, I witnessed a
spectacle befitting the clumsiest bareback rider on one of their first
lessons. The old Major had both arms affectionately entwined around
the mule's thick neck and was hanging on with desperation. Up and down
went the hind quarters of that unkind brute, bunting and kicking, the
Major's little body keeping taps with the ups and downs and every
time he caught his breath he let out a war whoop that would do credit
to a Commanche brave. The old mule finally dumped him all in a heap
and followed his mate to Denver. Such an appearance as both presented,
each blaming the other for our misfortune and vowing we would never be
caught at another prize fight. Lame, bruised, and crestfallen, we
walked the remainder of the way into Denver. Each cautioned the other
to say nothing of our misfortune; but the two Mauds had carried the
news ahead, and we were the laughing stock of the town for the next
nine days.

[Illustration: RETURNING FROM PRIZE FIGHT]

At another time I was attending a performance in the "Old Languish
Theater," when from the stage I was informed I was wanted in the bar
room of the building, a necessary adjunct to all western theaters in
those days. Upon entering I was taken by the hand by one of those
trusty and warm-hearted stage drivers of the plains and Rockies, and
told that my chum had been caught in one of those treacherous mountain
snow storms on the Catchla Purder River two miles above La Port and
was badly frozen, and, if he didn't receive medical aid at once, could
not survive. I left the theater at once and commenced preparing plans
for the trip. I started unaccompanied the following afternoon at 2:30
o'clock on a one hundred fifty mile ride.

A RIDE IN A STORM

My conveyance was a long old-fashioned buggy. The buggy, which was
well filled with straw, blankets, medicine, grub, and a commissary
bottle, had two good roadsters hitched in front to wheel me to the
rescue of my friend or to an ignominious death. I had not only Indians
to fear, but the treacherous elements. The trail ran close along the
base of the mountains. It was a lovely May day. I was obliged to make
thirty-two miles that night to reach cover. Less than half of the
distance had been traveled when the wind veered suddenly to the north,
mild at first, then a hurricane of anger, roaring and blowing with