American essays; Short stories, American; Western stories
These horrors past, there lay before us valleys, hills, crags--that
formed as picturesque a landscape as tourist's eye was ever gladdened
by. At the foot of tall, straight pines, crowning the heights and
covering the sloping hill-sides, was a carpet of short, soft grass, out
of which laughed the merriest flower-eyes, and over which nodded the
slenderest stalks, bearing blossoms that seemed exotic in their
intensely bright hues. The balm-laden breath of the wind told enticing
tales of the untrod velvet on the heights above, where the pine-trees
bent and swayed in the passing breeze. We had come upon this all so
unexpectedly that the lieutenant insisted on my mounting Toby to obtain
a better view of the whole country. My saddle was in the wagon
somewhere, and there was no time to hunt it up; but as I had seen Mrs.
Lane start off on the colonel's horse and saddle sometime before, I
clambered on Toby's back at once, into the lieutenant's saddle. By
crossing some little low hills, which the command had to march around, I
found myself pretty soon ahead of the train. Not aware that we were to
pass any place where human beings dwelt, I kept bravely on--feeling all
the more safe from seeing Captain Newbold's cow, with her guardian, just
in front of me. When I saw a rude kind of gateway a little later, I
could not resist the promptings of my curiosity, and quite forgot the
command, which approached just then with beating drums and flying
colors. Had I realized how near they were upon me, I think my native
modesty would have prompted me to let General Sykes, with his command,
pass in front of me; but seeing Captain Newbold's cow march through the
gate, and an avenue of Mexican and Indian faces, I followed the lead,
barely escaping the feet of the drummer-boys, who were close on my
heels.
It was the residence of an old pioneer--old Wooten--a pioneer in the
boldest sense of the word. In conversation with one of the officers,
when Kit Carson was mentioned, he spoke of him as being a comparative
stranger in these parts, having been in the country only some
twenty-five or thirty years.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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