Tales of the Colorado Pioneers. Alice Polk Hill

York Tribune, had been making a trip through California and Nevada, and was on his return to the States when he heard of the gold strike in Colorado. He determined to feast his eyes on some of the “paltry stuff” that was creating such a furor throughout the land.

       When he arrived in Denver he was received with all the honor that the infant city could command. He said he didn’t intent to be deceived in this matter, that seeing was believing, and he wanted to wash out some of the dirt himself. So the men put their heads together to see how they could “come it” over the old gentleman. They themselves were satisfied as to the richness of Gregory Gulch, it was no intention to deceive, but Solomon says “there is a time for all things,” and they wanted a “good one” on Horace Greeley. So they sent a message to the camp that Horace was coming, and to salt a mine.

       The boys took down an old shotgun and fired gold dust

      into a hole for all it was worth.

       Bright and early the next morning a spanking team was rigged up, and the distinguished gentleman started for the gulch, accompanied by some of the most plausible, entertaining and versatile talkers of the country. They escorted him over the diggings, related all the interesting events in the history of its discovery, showed him specimens of the dirt and the pure gold that had been washed out. Mr. Greeley’s soul was in arms, and, eager for the task, he called for a shovel and pan, rolled up his sleeves, and went down into the pit. They gave

      SALTING A MINE. 31

      him all the necessary instructions as to the process of panning, and looked on with palpitating anxiety.

       Mr. Greeley was an apt scholar, and put his dirt through like an adept in the art. It panned out big. All the bottom of the pan was covered with bright gold particles. They slapped him on the shoulders in regular Western style, and told him to try it again—which he did—with the same success. Then he gathered up his gold dust in a bag, and said:

       “Gentlemen, I have worked with my own hands and seen with my own eyes, and the news of your rich discovery shall go all over the world, as far as my paper can waft it.”

       Mr. Greeley left, believing he had made a thorough test. As soon as he reached New York he devoted a whole side of the Tribune to an ecstatic description of the camp, headed with large, glaring type, such as “bill-stickers” use. The report was read all over the country, and caused a great rush to the land of promise. Those who had the fever took a relapse, and they had it bad. It was a raging epidemic, and spread faster than the cholera in Egypt.

       He shouted into the ears of the over-crowded East until the welkin rang, “Young man, go West!” It was his glowing articles and earnest advice about “going West” that caused the first great boom in Colorado. The honest old man went down to his grave ignorant of the joke that was played upon him.

       Count Murat, a barber, who, in honor of his royal blood, was dubbed “ knight of the strop and razor,” also figured conspicuously in the editorial correspondence of the Tribune. While in Denver Mr. Greeley sat under the

      32 TALES OF THE COLORADO PIONEERS.

      graceful manipulations of this tonsorial artist. The Count, feeling he would be distinguished by a notice from the great journalist, and also wishing to impress him with the liberal product of the gold fields, and the corresponding ability of the people to throw away money, accomplished it by charging the famous editor two dollars for a single shave. It is said that ever after Mr. Greeley regarded barbers with suspicion and aversion, and ceased to patronize them.

      _________

      CHAPTER VI.

      A PIONEER DINNER.

       Finding my interest in the old timers, a friend, whom I shall call Hal., anxious to assist me in acquiring infor¬ mation, invited me to a pioneer dinner. After the feast the following stories of the early days were told:

      THE WIND WAGON.

       “It was the happiest day of my life,” said Captain Cutler, “when I took my seat in the ‘prairie schooner,’ bound for the New West. A world of care rolled from my shoulders. Sheriffs, constables, and bailiffs were left behind, and I could commence life on a new page. My sentiments were similar to the immortal Byron’s:

      ‘“With thee, my ox, I’ll slowly go,

      * * * * *

      Nor care what land thou bear’st me to,

      So not again to mine.’

       “It was somewhere about the middle of August. The delicate blue of the sky was unblemished by a cloud, and the weather was superb. I had become wonderfully fas-

      THE WIND WAGON. 33

      cinated with the comprehensiveness of the country that lay stretching in airy undulations far away like a billowy ocean that nature, in a capricious freak, had caught and held with immovable firmness. It seemed to me that nothing could be so grand, so romantic.

       “One clear, crisp morning we were, as usual, up with the sun and moving along at a quick gait for ox teams. Lulled into peace and good-will towards all mankind, by the soothing, cradle-like motion of our wagon springs, I threw my head back for a day-dream.

       “The flow of my fancy was soon interrupted by a member of our party calling out:

       “‘Hello! the moon is giving the sun a hot race this morning. Look; yonder she comes, just above the horizon.’

       “‘Give us a rest,’ said another, in a sort of raillery; ‘you

      must have been drinking something that’s turned your

      head. Say, where do you keep your jug?’

       “But the cast-iron earnestness on the features of the alarmist caused us to crane our necks and look—and then we looked at each other, each one seeming to doubt his own sanity. For we saw something rising upon the horizon that certainly looked like the moon; but, knowing it to be the wrong place for that luminary at that time, our minds were soon disabused of the supposition.

       “It began to assume a greater proportion, and moved rapidly in our direction. We stopped our wagon to view the phenomenon, and conjecture as to the character of the bird, beast or created thing that was coming toward us.

       “‘A cyclone.’ one suggested.

       “Another said, ‘a mirage.’

       3

      34 TALES OF THE COLORADO PIONEERS.

       “Another thought it was a sailing puff of dust.

       “’I have it, said old Neptune Holman, who had been to sea; ‘it’s a ship turned loose on the prairie, begad.’ .

       ‘“It’s too many for me,’ said the driver; 'I give it up.’

       “Indeed it was an apparition to us, to all intents and purposes; a thing of enchantment and awful mystery. I am not sure but some of the boys were a little scared. I didn’t more than half like it, myself. The suspense was not long.

      “ As it gracefully

      approached us we saw

      that it was what was

      called in those days

      a “wind wagon” — a

      wagon fitted out with

      sails and rudder like

      a ship. Our party

      had never seen a

      wind wagon before,

      though some of us

      THE WIND WAGON

      had