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But I do not know just what I thought, for those eighteen days on the Great Colorado in midsummer, had burned themselves into my memory, and I made an inward vow that nothing would ever force me into such a situation again. I did not stop to really think; I only felt, and my only feeling was a desire to get cool and to get out of the Territory in some other way and at some cooler season.
The two boys only desired shelter and rest for themselves and their horses during the night. It was their intention to push on early the following day, keeping along the old wagon trail that at one time was the sole means of reaching the then little known Wonderland along the deeply sunk Colorado. After a fairly pleasant night, they had an early breakfast.
Mildred uttered a cry; but the two men continued to look each at the other, with impassive countenances. "Your only wife is the woman who has been in the private insane asylum of Doctor Rivers at Pueblo, Colorado, for the past eleven years. For about twenty years before that she was in the Delavan private asylum near Denver. You could not divorce her under the laws of Colorado.
The Sierra de la Ventana is visible at an immense distance; and a Gaucho told me that he was once riding with an Indian a few miles to the north of the Rio Colorado, when the Indian commenced making the same loud noise, which is usual at the first sight of the distant tree, putting his hand to his head, and then pointing in the direction of the Sierra.
From Amarillo I went on to San Francisco, stopping off to have yet one more sight of the Grand Cañon of the Colorado River. San Francisco was now almost completely restored, and much on the old plan. Her Knob-hill palaces are gone, but her hotels are better and more palatial than ever. November 22nd. Sailed on a Japanese steamer for Yokohama, via Honolulu.
There were few villages, and few inhabitants, the country differing widely from the auriferous lands of Colorado many leagues to the south. In the distance a long line of mountain crests, in great confusion as yet, began to appear. They were the Rocky Mountains.
But even in death he was beneficent, for his spirit entered the earth and forthwith came a gush of water that has never ceased to flow the Hot Sulphur Springs of Colorado. The Utes often used to go to those springs to bathe and be cured of rheumatism before they were driven away.
From the site where Amarillo is now we had all the Buffalo meat we wanted, and when we struck what is now the city of Trinidad, Colorado, we followed the stream known as and called the "Picket Wire," down to the Arkansas river, and as we were in the heart of the Buffalo country, we were not out of the sight of herds of Buffalo all the way down to that river.
The Colorado is a wonderful stream. It is fed by the perpetual snows of the Rocky Mountains. For some distance the tributary streams flow through fertile valleys, many of them now richly and widely cultivated.
"The Little Colorado runs in there. How far does it look to you?" "Thirty miles, perhaps," I replied, adding ten miles to my estimate. "It's seventy-five. We'll get there day after to-morrow. If the snow in the mountains has begun to melt, we'll have a time getting across." That afternoon, a hot wind blew in my face, carrying fine sand that cut and blinded.
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