Magic, is a
splendid dog, dark brindle in color, very swift and very plucky, also
most intelligent. He is a sly rascal, too. He loves to sleep on
Lieutenant Baldwin's bed above all things, and he sneaks up on it
whenever he can, but the instant he hears Lieutenant Baldwin's step on
the walk outside, down he jumps, and stretching himself out full
length in front of the fire, he shuts his eyes tight, pretends to be
fast asleep, and the personification of an innocent, well-behaved dog!
But Lieutenant Baldwin knows his tricks now, and sometimes, going to
the bed, he can feel the warmth from his body that is still there, and
if he says, "Magic, you old villain," Magic will wag his tail a
little, which in dog language means, "You are pretty smart, but I'm
smart, too!"
With all this outdoor exercise, one can readily perceive that the days
are not long and tiresome. Of course there are a few who yawn and
complain of the monotony of frontier life, but these are the
stay-at-homes who sit by their own fires day after day and let cobwebs
gather in brain and lungs. And these, too, are the ones who have time
to discover so many faults in others, and become our garrison gossips!
If they would take brisk rides on spirited horses in this wonderful
air, and learn to shoot all sorts of guns in all sorts of positions,
they would soon discover that a. frontier post can furnish plenty of
excitement. At least, I have found that it can.
Faye was very anxious for me to become a good shot, considering it
most essential in this Indian country, and to please him I commenced
practicing soon after we got here. It was hard work at first, and I
had many a bad headache from the noise of the guns. It was all done in
a systematic way, too, as though I was a soldier at target practice.
They taught me to use a pistol in various positions while standing;
then I learned to use it from the saddle. After that a little
four-inch bull's-eye was often tacked to a tree seventy-five paces
away, and I was given a Spencer carbine to shoot (a short magazine
rifle used by the cavalry), and many a time I have fired three rounds,
twenty-one shots in all, at the bull's-eye, which I was expected to
hit every time, too.
Well, I obligingly furnished amusement for Faye and Lieutenant Baldwin
until they asked me to fire a heavy Springfield rifle - an infantry
gun. After one shot I politely refused to touch the tiling again. The
noise came near making me deaf for life; the big thing rudely "kicked"
me over on my back, and the bullet - I expect that ball is still on
its way to Mars or perhaps the moon. This earth it certainly did not
hit! Faye is with the company almost every morning, but after luncheon
we usually go out for two or three hours, and always come back
refreshed by the exercise. And the little house looks more cozy, and
the snapping of the blazing logs sounds more cheerful because of our
having been away from them.
FORT LYON, COLORADO TEKRITORY,
April, 1872.
SOME of the most dreadful things have occurred since I wrote you last,
and this letter will make you unhappy, I know. To begin with, orders
have actually come from Department Headquarters at Leavenworth for two
companies of infantry here - General Phillips' and Captain
Giddings' - to go to Camp Supply! So that is settled, and we will
probably leave this post in about ten days, and during that time we
are expected to sell, give away, smash up, or burn about everything we
possess, for we have already been told that very few things can be
taken with us. I do not see how we can possibly do with less than we
have had since we came here.
Eliza announced at once that she could not be induced to go where
there are so many Indians - said she had seen enough of them while in
New Mexico. I am more than sorry to lose her, but at the same time I
cannot help admiring her common sense. I would not go either if I
could avoid it.
You will remember that not long ago I said that Lieutenant Baldwin was
urging me to ride Tom, his splendid thoroughbred, as soon as he could
be quieted down a little so I could control him. Well, I was to have
ridden him to-day for the first time! Yesterday morning Lieutenant
Baldwin had him out for a long, hard run, but even after that the
horse was nervous when he came in, and danced sideways along the
officers' drive in his usual graceful way. Just as they got opposite
the chaplain's house, two big St. Bernard dogs bounded over the fence
and landed directly under the horse, entangling themselves with his
legs so completely that when he tried to jump away from them he was
thrown down on his knees with great force, and Lieutenant Baldwin was
pitched over the horse's head and along the ground several feet.
He is a tall, muscular man and went down heavily, breaking three ribs
and his collar bone on both sides! He is doing very well, and is as
comfortable to-day as can be expected, except that he is grieving
piteously over his horse, for the poor horse - beautiful Tom - is
utterly ruined! Both knees have been sprung, and he is bandaged almost
as much as his master.
The whole occurrence is most deplorable and distressing. It seems so
dreadful that a strong man should be almost killed and a grand horse
completely ruined by two clumsy, ill-mannered dogs. One belongs to the
chaplain, too, who is expected to set a model example for the rest of
us.
