then said that it seemed as though camp must be near and could be readily found; but when he once became convinced that he was lost, he became so completely bewildered that the compass was no more use to him than a box without a needle. He said the hills and valleys all looked _alike_, and there was not a bush, or weed, or anything whatever to mark his course, much less a _neighbor to direct the way_. This is only _one_ of _hundreds_ of cases; and I have heard of persons horribly _mutilating_ themselves in their mad agonies. The facts given are perfectly _credible_, for I have felt their force by experience. I recollect that one warm spring morning in south Colorado, the fog hung over the prairie like the mist upon the ocean, and a horse could be distinguished but a few hundred yards. I had stayed all night with some cow-boys on Bear Creek, and saddling my pony I started out among the bluffs to steer my way over the plain to our camp upon the Cimaron, thirty miles below. I had no _compass_ with me, but I had crossed the country so often that I thought it would be no trouble, even in the midst of the mighty fog, to grope my way. I had scarcely left the cotton-wood tops in the mist when I came to another creek. This seemed very strange, for I only knew of _one creek_ in the country; but not willing to believe that I was _again_ crossing _Bear Creek_, I kept pushing on. I saw some men camped in a ravine just below, and saw their _horses_ grazing among the hills; but I thought they must be _hunters_, and the creek must be one that I had not seen. I went on until I had crossed _six creeks_; and I made up my mind that there was something _wrong_, and that I must be circling my own camp on Bear Creek. I had lost the location of the _boys_ I saw awhile ago, and I rode down to the stream, and to _save my life_ I could not tell which way the _water_ ran. I dismounted and set my rifle on the ground, and before my left foot was removed from the stirrup the pony became frightened and dashed away. Losing my grip upon the horn I was jerked down, and the horse started off kicking down the creek. He dragged me about fifty yards, and I began to think it did not make much difference which way the water ran, when I succeeded in getting a square kick at the stirrup with my right foot, and _luckily_ out it came. The pony, now free, ran off down the creek. After following him about three miles, I came into the camp of an old hunter (Barney Gowe), whom I had not met for some months. My _pony_ stopped with _his_ horses and was easily captured. I then asked Barney where I _was_, and he thought I was codding him; but becoming _convinced_ of my situation he laughed heartily and told me to stay for dinner and the world would turn _right side up again_ after awhile. It was full two hours before all was _right_, and all at once the whole valley appeared natural. There were the little stone monuments upon the