We soon became used to them, however, and managed to enjoy ourselves as thoroughly as though we had no end of room in which to turn around and stretch ourselves. I have neglected to say that the old gentleman, or "Pa" Anson, as the boys soon began to call him in order to distinguish him from myself, had joined us at starting, and the fact that accommodations for poker parties were rather cramped, gave him a chance to grumble, that he was not slow to take advantage of. He soon became a great favorite with all the party and as base-ball and poker had always been his favorite amusements, he found himself for at least once in his life in his natural element, it being one of his theories of life that he would rather play poker and lose right along than not to play at all. He found no difficulty in that crowd in getting up a poker party at any time, and was consequently happy, though whether he won or lost, and how much, I cannot say. There was a large crowd at the Denver depot to see us off, and we left the Colorado metropolis with many regrets, so pleasant had been our visit there. The day was just breaking when we arrived at Colorado Springs the next morning, and save for a few early risers, the depot was deserted. At the depot awaiting our arrival were carriages and saddle horses, which had been telegraphed for from Denver in order that we might enjoy a flying visit to Manitou and the Garden of the Gods before playing the afternoon game. There was a general scramble at the depot for a choice of steeds, the park wagons, three in number, having been reserved for the use of the ladies and such members of the party whose education in the riding line had been neglected. I was not as quick as I might have been and had the comfort of Mrs. Anson to look after beside; as a result there fell to my lot a cross-eyed sorrel that had evidently spent the greater part of his life in chasing cattle among the mountains, and that true to his natural proclivities gave me no end of trouble before the morning was over. The sun was just turning the top of Pike's Peak, some eighteen miles distant, into a nugget of gold, when we left the depot, but so plainly could we see the crevices that seamed its massive sides that it looked not to be more than five miles distant. To our right rose the peaks of sandstone that form the gateway to the Garden of the Gods, and below us ran the narrow roadway through the valley like a belt of silver.