On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck Part 32

That evening we pa.s.sed a pleasant hour with "wine, women and song," and departed with another invitation to a fish and game dinner next day, if I would tarry and provide trout and birds. Of course, I tarried. c.o.o.nskin accompanied me into the canyon next morning with rod and line, and in the afternoon with gun and bag.

By five he had caught a nice mess of trout and I had shot a young jack-rabbit.

It was a delicious repast that was served us by those New England girls. We ate fish till their tails stuck out of our mouths. The bread tasted like angel's food, and the beans were well done, in spite of the fact it required a whole day to cook beans in that alt.i.tude.

I smacked my lips and said to myself: "I'll eat heartily now, for it'll be long before I'll get another dinner like this."

On the way to the Springs next day I suggested to c.o.o.nskin that we climb the Peak and see the sun rise.

"Why, is sunrise up there any finer than it is down here?" he inquired.

I thought he was making a mental calculation of the number of steps, and labored breaths, and obsolete words the ascent would require.

"Certainly," I said, "the reflections to be seen from that alt.i.tude are more beautiful and varied than from the plains."

"They're more beautiful perhaps, but I've been riding a mule over three months now, and my reflections are about as varied as anything could make 'em."

My donkey party reached Colorado Springs in time for dinner.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_Independence Pa.s.s ... one of the loftiest of the Continental Divide._"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_Trail to Florisant._"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_Two days of hard climbing to cross Western Pa.s.s._"]

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

BY MAC A'RONY.

The Professor, scorning to waste shoe leather and economize francs, began the ascent on a mule steered by a woman holding on to the beast's tail.--_Easter on the Riviera._

A curious proceeding held my rapt attention as we neared Petersburg, a suburb of Denver. At the terminus of a horse-car line I observed a car approaching us down-grade, with a horse on its rear platform. As soon as the car stopped at the station the horse stepped off on a platform and took his place in front of the car, ready to haul it up-grade again and earn another ride. I did not have the chance to ask the horse how he enjoyed it, but I would willingly have exchanged places with him.

Next morning, to my surprise, c.o.o.nskin was the first to rise. Our camp was near Littleton, on the banks of a small stream, and here at early dawn that ambitious youth gathered a panful of glittering wet sand, and rushed into the tent with it, almost out of breath.

"Look here, Pod!" he called, excitedly, "see the strike I've made!

The river bottom is yellow with gold!"

Then I heard Pod say, "Rich, I should say! Funny this placer hasn't been discovered before now."

"Let's file a claim," said c.o.o.nskin, "we can make a million in six months."

"Let's!" the Professor exclaimed. As soon as breakfast was over both tenderfeet were trying their luck at panning gold. A cabin stood not far away, and presently there issued from it an old man who approached the argonauts, and sat on a log to watch them.

"Your first experience at placer mining?" the stranger observed.

"For an instant both men looked confused. I could see that c.o.o.nskin didn't want to reveal his newly discovered fortune by the way he dumped his sand and said nothing. But Pod held on to a frying-pan full of sand with one hand, and reached for his revolver with the other to defend his claim.

"Well, boys," observed the native, laughing, "you're goin' through jest what all tenderfeet do when they first strike these parts--try to wash gold dust out of mica. All the streams out here 're filled with them glist'ning particles, but recollect, boys, all what glitters ain't gold. That you've got's called 'fool's gold.'"

It was plain that Pod was disappointed, but the stranger gave him some good advice, and a large Colorado diamond for a keepsake, then strolled away, leaving two sadder but wiser men.

The road to Colorado Springs was a popular thoroughfare for bicyclists. Sat.u.r.day afternoon, as we donks began the ascent of a long, steep, and winding incline, a din of voices and a whir of wheels suddenly sounded ahead, and a party of fifty or more young men and women in gala attire came speeding down toward us. As quickly as possible we donks turned out to the right. I think the bicyclists must have been English, for they steered to the left.

In a minute "it was all off."

It happened that the leader of the wheel brigade saw us donks too late and tried to save himself by turning suddenly to his right.

Result: Tire off and man off. Sequel: A wild rough-and-tumble conglomeration of s.e.xes, as his followers mixed up with our party.

Bicycles, donkeys, men, women, lunch baskets, packs, hats, petticoats and cameras were distributed in all directions. The cries and shrieks of the bruised and frightened together with the confusion of the wreckage so terrified us donks that as soon as we could pick ourselves up we reared on our haunches, and cavorted, and brayed, and so help me Balaam! it was the worst mix-up I was ever in.

When every man had a.s.sisted some one else's girl to her equilibrium, a council of war a.s.sembled to adjust grievances and repair machines; but the proceedings did not interest the Professor, for he hustled us donks up hill and out of sight as quickly as possible. The din of voices soon sounded in the distance like a swarm of yellow-jackets.

Colorado City was a gambling resort lying between Colorado Springs and Manitou. Our stop there was all too brief. While Pod and c.o.o.nskin were at feed we donks stole down-street to watch a "play." That was the time I regretted having eaten the five dollar bill back in Iowa, for three times in succession the roulette ball dropped on my colors, and by compounding the princ.i.p.al and interest each time I could have made a beautiful scoop which might have given us donks a high old time.

Thence onward Pike's Peak was the chief topic of discussion. To begin with, Pike's Peak is the largest mountain of its size in the world. Cats can't live ten minutes on the summit before going crazy, and dogs even lose their bark at the timber-line. I concurred with Pod that it would be a big feat to climb the Peak.

On the other hand, Cheese and Skates demurred from our opinion.

Skates positively declined to leave the stable, and Cheese backed her up by putting both fore feet in the manger. Damfino stood by Pod and me. She argued that when one has climbed to an elevation of 14,147 feet above sea-level he is likely to feel a blamed sight nearer heaven than he is ever apt to be again. The result was that Damfino and I alone accompanied the men on that adventuresome trip.

Everything went well until we struck the cog track in Engleman's Canyon. It was the first experience for us donks in "hitting the ties." I did not fancy the route at all. But Pod, having seen a boy ride a native burro up the track, resolved to do no less. The first half mile was not steep, and the men rode us donks; but when we caught up with a party of men and women making the ascent, an ambitious boy grabbed my tail and allowed me the privilege of dragging him a hundred yards before the Prof discovered him, and dismounted. How I thanked the boy for his thoughtfulness.

Damfino lagged behind. She had changed her mind. The consequence was, we donks were driven ahead, and c.o.o.nskin no sooner hit Damfino a whack with the b.u.t.t of his six-shooter, then she began to pace so fast none of us could keep up with her. When we came to the steep 25 per cent. grade the men were winded; not so we donks.

The men called to us, but we would not listen. They threw stones at us, and we quickened our gait. The men couldn't run up-grade to save their lives, whereas mountain climbing finds a donkey in his true element. "Ain't this fun!" exclaimed Damfino. "Never had such a picnic!" I added. Well, Pod walked half the way from New York and prided himself on walking, and c.o.o.nskin had won medals for sprinting: so it looked to us a huge joke, and we just brayed.

The next instant a locomotive bell sounded ahead, and I saw a train approaching from round a bend. We felt that we had the right of way, and were much put out when the train refused to stop. We would not get off the track; it would be contrary to the nature of first-cla.s.s donkeys to do such a thing.

Say, what wonderfully powerful things steam engines are! We got it in our heads that we could stop the train, if we didn't push it off the track. You just ought to have seen us pitch headlong down the bank of the canyon into the foaming torrent. It was a mighty plunge we made, I can tell you. Before we rose to the surface the car stopped, and many of the pa.s.sengers got off. The banks of the pool were so steep we couldn't climb out, and we had to swim and tread water to keep from drowning. Damfino brayed like a lunatic, I spouted like a geyser, and great excitement reigned among the tourists.

Evidently "nothing was doing" for our immediate relief. The engineer was loudly refres.h.i.+ng Pod's memory that he had no right on the railroad bed with his donkeys, and the female pa.s.sengers gesticulated wildly and condoled with Damfino and me for the deep predicament we were in. One facetious fellow asked if we jacka.s.ses were Baptists, and the Professor told him he didn't know what denomination we formerly adhered to, but he believed that we were skeptics now.

Presently our masters began search for ropes and straps. Alas! all of them had been left behind. I was now through with coughing, but still weak and out of breath, while Damfino pumped logarithms of abuse at the cog train and exhorted me to keep swimming--advice entirely unnecessary. Finally the car steamed down to Manitou, and the sympathetic occupants called back that they would send aid.

c.o.o.nskin was first to come to his senses. Said he, "I can run, I'll run to the village for help;" and away he went to beat the cars. This expedient awoke the Prof.'s dormant mind to an idea, and he began to roll rocks into the Pool. At the same time he yelled something at us, but I couldn't wait to listen, for I ducked under water in the nick of time to dodge a half-ton boulder. It came within an inch of knocking all the bad character out of Damfino's head, and completely submerged us both. After that Pod was more careful, and instead of rolling one giant stone he sent two middle-weights down the bank in a manner to make us dive. I concluded Pod had gone daft.

"For Balaam's sake! what you trying to do up----" I brayed loudly, but scarcely finished when I came within an ace of "pa.s.sing in my chips," as a gigantic pebble of the first water whizzed between our heads. Pod called back, "I'm lifting the bottom of the pool so you two can crawl out." I was astonished at such inventive faculty. A wonder we donks survived to tell it. Rolling stones may gather no moss, but they need a lot of looking after.

It seemed hours before c.o.o.nskin returned. By this time I had found a footing so I could rest with my head out of water.

"Why were you gone so long?" Pod asked, as he sat himself on a rail to rest his windpipe.

"Well," said the winded man, adjusting a lariat, "I hunted all over Manitou before I found the superintendent of the waterworks."

"But what on earth did you want of him?"

"I told him of the fix of our donks, and asked him to change the course of the stream till we could get them out of the pool."

"You idiot! And what did he say?"