Here
And There Was A Herdsman Mounted On A Small Indian Pony With A
High Mexican Saddle, Enormous Spurs, And A Long Lasso, Galloping
And Dexterously Turning His Animals.
Our train had to pull up several times and whistle loudly to turn
the animals off the track, there
Being, as usual, no rail or
protection; but pulling up for them was not half as exciting as on
Thursday night, when we stopped repeatedly to turn a man off the
train who, not having paid his fare, nor apparently intending to
do so, had swung himself in some marvellous way under the cars,
hanging on by the break. Whenever we slackened speed he jumped
off, walking quite unconcernedly alongside; but the moment we
moved on he got on again. We never knew how far he continued his
perilous ride, I fancy that even the officials gave up
remonstrating; anyhow, as long as daylight lasted and we could
watch the men, no efforts on their part seemed to make the
smallest impression.
Three hours before getting into Denver we had our first glimpse of
the Rockies, and although they were then only in the blue distance
we were quite excited about them; and at Greely Station (much
impressed on our minds by having read Miss Bird's book just before
coming here), we came in full view of Long's Peak, - almost wishing
"Mountain Jim" might still be alive to ascend it with us, - and
the whole of the gorgeous range; and quite one of the loveliest
sights I ever saw was watching two thunder-storms on either side
of the Peak break and disperse, whilst the reflections from the
sunset-glow lit up the rest of the heavens.
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