For Economy I Dined In A
Restaurant In Golden City, And At Three Remounted My Trusty
Birdie, Intending To Arrive Here That Night.
The adventure I met
with is almost too silly to tell.
When I left Golden City it was a brilliant summer afternoon, and
not too hot.
They could not give any directions at the stable,
and told me to go out on the Denver track till I met some one who
could direct me, which started me off wrong from the first.
After riding about two miles I met a man who told me I was all
wrong, and directed me across the prairie till I met another, who
gave me so many directions that I forgot them, and was
irretrievably lost. The afterglow, seen to perfection on the
open plain, was wonderful. Just as it grew dark I rode after a
teamster who said I was then four miles farther from Boulder than
when I left Golden, and directed me to a house seven miles off.
I suppose he thought I should know, for he told me to cross the
prairie till I came to a place where three tracks are seen, and
there to take the best-traveled one, steering all the time by the
north star. His directions did bring me to tracks, but it was
then so dark that I could see nothing, and soon became so dark
that I could not even see Birdie's ears, and was lost and
benighted. I rode on, hour after hour, in the darkness and
solitude, the prairie all round and a firmament of frosty stars
overhead.
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