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On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck

<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI. Two pretty dairy maids</h3> TOC BY PYE POD. <div class="poembox"> At the head of the procession strode the four heralds. Silently they marched, in silence the populace received them. The spectacle reminded very old men of the day the great Axaya was born in mournful pomp to Chapultepec.<cite>—The Fair God.</cite> </div> When I had taken a bird's-eye view of Denver, and visited many of its handsome streets and buildings, and met its hospitable citizens, I dubbed it one of the most attractive cities. One of the first to greet me was a member of the Jacksonian Club, who invited me to attend a lawn party to be given at the home of a fellow member. The grounds were illuminated with Japanese lanterns and a platform was erected for speech-making, while indoors were served refreshments. In the midst of the pleasant proceedings a gentle rain frightened everybody into the house, where dancing closed the festivities. Of course, every pretty girl wanted to dance with Pod. Sunday seemed to be the accepted day for sight-seeing. The "Seeing Denver" car (electric) made two twenty-five mile trips a day, threading the more attractive portions of the city and suburbs and giving the passengers a splendid idea of the beauties and possibilities of Denver. Each car was manned by a director, who clearly described all points of interest en route. Finally, the car was stopped on the heights overlooking Clear Creek Valley, where, in 1858, Gregory, a North Carolina prospector, discovered gold in quartz and proved his theory that all placer ore came from a mother lode. People in the East, hearing that gold could be found here in quartz, hurried to the spot, resolved to be contented if they could only find it in pints. While many were disappointed, within a year one hundred and seventy quartz mills were erected, and in 1860 Colorado's gold output amounted to $4,000,000. The Colorado farmer raises everything in the fruit and vegetable line that can be produced in the East. Through the system of irrigation the soil is brought to such a state of production that one farmer near Denver was reaping a revenue of $5,000 a year from a twenty-acre plot. "One of our best crops is tomatoes," said our guide, with the view of enlightening some possible investor. "There, you can see in the distance, is one of our largest canneries. It cans tomatoes only. All the tomatoes they can are raised around Denver, and all the tomatoes not consumed in the city are sent to this cannery to be canned. They raise all they can and what they can't raise they can't can. They eat all they can, and all they can't eat they can. Moreover, all they can't can they eat, and what they eat they can't can. All canned tomatoes they can and cannot eat they ship to those who can't visit Denver to eat all they can. If you can visit the cannery and see them can all they can and eat what they can't can, and can't eat a can yourselves, you then only can understand why it is they can't eat what they can and can't can what they eat. Can you not?" When he had finished three women cried. Later on the journey the car was stopped in a different quarter of the suburbs, where several got off to pluck wild flowers. In the course of our tour many attractive buildings were pointed out, among them the Consumptive's Home, erected by philanthropists of the East, and the several smelting mills, one of which boasts of a chimney four hundred feet in height, the tallest on the continent. While the ladies were gathering wild flowers I was persuaded to perpetrate a practical joke suggested by two jovial Johnny Bulls. I had become quite chatty with their party. They had the impression that I was a cowboy, and when they discovered their error they proposed I should jostle a fellow countryman of theirs as soon as they could decoy him off the car, they claiming that he still believed me a real cow-puncher out for a holiday. They said it was his first trip to America, and that he had frequently expressed a curiosity to see one of those wild men of the plains. On promises of their support in case of offense being taken, I chuckled and awaited my chance. Presently the man was persuaded to pick a wild rose, and as he was about to pass me I backed roughly against him, almost sending him off his feet. When he had regained his equilibrium and was on the point of rebuking me, I turned furiously upon him: "Say, you foreign tenderfoot," I said, "you got a preemption on the whole earth? If so, just fence it in. Don't yer brush me that way agin, or I'll show yer how we trim moustaches out in this country when our razors ain't sharp. Understand?" As I uttered these words I put my hand on my hip-pocket. My sombrero was tilted, and the attitude I struck would have amused any real cowboy. The astonished Englishman, red in the face, edged away in silence and eyed me narrowly. "Turn your lamps the other way, or I'll shoot off yer eyebrows!" I shouted. At once the innocent butt of our ungentlemanly joke ventured to apologize for the carelessness that was not his, when a peal of laughter from behind told plainly that the joke was off. I turned to see everybody in a fit of laughter; I now began to feel embarrassed, and had not my confederate immediately explained the case and introduced me to their imposed-upon comrade, I certainly would have felt very awkward. As it was, the tourist laughed heartily at the joke, complimented me on my art in acting and gave me a cordial handshake. At our journey's end I was introduced to all the ladies, and induced to pose for their cameras, after which I departed with the well-wishes of all. I must not overlook an amusing incident of the trip. One of the passengers was an Irishman, who caused much merriment by a stroke of wit, or a blunder, just as the car stopped in front of the City Hall. "This lovely park which you see," said the director, "has been brought to its present beautiful condition by levying a tax of one mill on all property owners. The burden, you see, was light for each person, and just to all." "Light was it!" the Emerald-Islander exclaimed. "Begorry! mills must be dom plintiful in these parts, whin every mon is willin' to give uup a mill for an interist in a parruk. Be dad! it must ha' been rough on th' mon that owned but one mill. It was thot!" Whereupon our erudite guide politely dissertated on the great difference in mills, to the amusement of the English party and the Hibernian's satisfaction. Before leaving Denver I found it advisable to add considerable to my traveling equipment. I ordered a tin canteen from my own design, to hold a gallon of water, and within it was fashioned a receptacle for holding two pounds of butter. Its value was constantly appreciated when crossing the deserts where we were enabled to carry butter, and an extra quantity of drinking water which was kept cool by wrapping the canteen with cloth and canvas and keeping them in a moist condition. I also purchased a large basket-covered demijohn of port wine (for medicinal purposes), an extra pack-saddle and camp supplies. Although that altitude of 5,000 feet was quite invigorating, the sun at that season was unusually warm, and I intended to enjoy as much camp life as possible. We took a southerly course towards Pike's Peak, threading the villages of Littleton, Castle Rock, Sedalia and Monument, and the city of Colorado Springs. The scenic beauties of Colorado became more manifest every day. Sunday afternoon I observed in the southwest a dark cloud draw a threatening hood over that giant discovery of 1806 by Col. Zebulon M. Pike, and I decided to camp in the vicinity of a dairy ranch. Anticipating a shower, I rode Skates, my fastest donkey, to the house with canteen and pail, leaving Coonskin to unpack, pitch tent, and build a wood-pile under shelter. On approaching the house, I detected a pretty dairymaid in the doorway. I endeavored to dismount from my asinine steed with grace, but the picture so unbalanced me that I caught a foot in a stirrup and fell heels over appetite on the ground at my charmer's very feet, much to my embarrassment and her amusement. "Can you spare me a quart of milk, Miss?" I inquired, lifting my hat. She smiled. Then, fearing lest I might have created the impression of begging, I asked; "can you sell some? I mean to pay for it, of course." My words seemed to break her spell, and she replied sweetly, "We have two kinds—cream and skimmed milk." And her eyes sparkled. I caught my breath and gave her a chance to lose hers. "Per-per-perhaps you might mix the two safely—mightn't you?" I now felt the crisis coming, and twisted myself nervously. The maid laughed. It quieted my nerves. "But," she returned, "you see, the cream is all engaged, and—and I would not like to sell you the skimmed milk, because—because we feed that to the hogs." I smiled now and tried to answer. "Well, what is good enough for hogs ought—," and I hesitated, feeling I was getting things twisted; but she came to the rescue nobly. "What you mean is, what is good enough for you ought to be good enough for hogs, eh?" "Thank you," I said. "What you say goes," and I handed her the pail, which she accepted with a shy courtesy. As she hurried to the spring house, I watched her admiringly until foosteps behind caused me to turn around. Behold! there was another young lady, tall and becomingly gowned, even prettier than the other. The softness of her brown, lustrous eyes bespoke the tenderness in her nature. Even Don interpreted this when she patted his head and observed: "What a nice dog you have!" The expression "nice dog" was very familiar to Don, and they were no sooner uttered than the huge dog arose to the occasion by planting his fore-paws against the lady's breast and attempting to steal a kiss. The shock would have upset her completely if I had not caught her in my arms. It was therefore under somewhat embarrassing circumstances that the dairy maid witnessed the embrace—embarrassing to all save the dog. Explanations will only make matters worse, I thought, so I took the pail and kept mum, though I know I looked anything but innocent. Business over, we conversed until it began to sprinkle, and then, after accepting the ladies' invitation to spend the evening with them, I cantered back to camp. "I feared you had gone on to 'Frisco," said Coonskin; "I'm dying for a drink of water." Indeed, I had forgotten to fill the canteen—all on account of those charming girls. "I declare, Coonskin," I explained, "I had such a time persuading the folks to sell me a little milk that I never thought of water. I'll hurry back for it." And not giving my companion time to anticipate me, or stopping to mount a donkey, I did the errand on foot. That evening we passed 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. Coonskin 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 altitude. 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 Coonskin 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 altitude 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. <div class="figcenter"> larger <ANTIMG src="images/i272.jpg" width-obs="362" height-obs="600" alt="" /> <div class="caption">"A. Independence Pass .  .  . one of the loftiest of the Continental Divide."</div> <div class="caption">"B. Trail to Florisant."</div> <div class="caption">"C. Two days of hard climbing to cross Western Pass."</div> </div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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