French, Spanish, German, Yankee, and mulatto,
all of whom were gathered round a lathy dark-
haired young fellow in a trim half-military dress,
that would have passed for that of a policeman
but for the red flannel shirt and Mexican
sombrero he wore. This man had keen
mobile features, and was hardened by
constant work and weather into little more than
muscle and bone; he wore spurred boots
and thick "savers," and was cracking a whip
as he gaily chatted with the crowd, who
laughed at his wit in a way that proved him a
prime favourite. He was, in fact, one of the
salaried riders of the "Pony Express," ready
to start with the bag of despatches, the instant
the courier from San Francisco should arrive
with it.

"Yes, colonel; yes, gals," I heard him say;
"I'm downright sorry to leave, but duty is
duty, ain't it? If the Indians don't rub me
out—"

"Rub you out, Shem? Catch a racoon
asleep!" cried one of the rider's admiring
friends.

"Waal!" said Shem, with a modest voice,
but a boastful twinkle in his restless eye, "the
varmints have tried a time or two, but they've
found Shem Grindrod rather a tough nut to
crack, they have. When a chap's Kentucky
bred, real right down hard hickory, 'taint so
easy to lift his ha'r as—Service to ye, stranger!"

For his eye had lighted on me.

"Shem," cried the horse-dealer, " here's a
gentleman wants to cross the parara, all alone,
on hossback, Broadway fashion. What do you
say to that?"

There was a general laugh. Shem took off
his hat with mock respect.

"Whoop!" he cried. " If that ain't clear grit
in the down-easter dandy! You'll see snakes,
mister, I reckon. There's no accommodation
for gen-teel persons, and you'll jest get your
hoss stole, or chawed up by the wolves, and
you'll lose yourself and die for want of a dinner,
if you don't fall in with the Injuns—and if you
do, Jehoshaphat!"

All this would have been provoking to some
men, but I knew the American character too well
to be out of temper. Shem evidently took me for
a presumptuous townsman, plunging wantonly
into the lion's mouth, and was good naturedly
discouraging my rashness. With some trouble,
I drew him apart, and commenced a private
conversation. I told him that I was bound for
the eastern states, that my business was imperative,
but that if he could help me I would
pay him most liberally for the aid rendered.
For I had formed a crude idea that, if I could
procure the privilege of using the relays of
spare horses kept at the different stations on
the route, for the use of the mail-bag riders, I
might accomplish the most awkward part of the
journey with great rapidity. Shem, however,
though not ill natured, dashed my hopes to the
ground. Such a concession would be "agin all
rule." The servants of the Express Company
"darn't do it." It was not to be thought of.
must wait for the caravan.

I did not wait for the caravan, but set forth
that very day. The people gave me a half ironical
cheer as I rode out of the straggling street of
Carson, but I saw the Yankee dealer shake his
head and screw up the corners of his mouth, as
if he considered me little better than a suicide.

There was no use in letting the grass grow
under my feet, so I pushed briskly ahead. I
was riding a powerful horse, one of those bred
in Kentucky or Tennessee, and which will sell
for a high price on the western border of
prairieland. To find the way in broad daylight
was easy. There was a broad track made by
the passage of countless waggons and beasts of
burden. I had a compass, but I really did not
need it. I covered many a weary league of
ground in the course of that day's ride. Here
and there, among the forked streamlets which
were feeders of the Carson, I came to farms
where I easily procured corn for my horse and
food for myself. I had come to two resolutions:
one, to economise my little store of jerked
beef as much as possible; the other, to refuse
all hospitable proffers of whisky, being convinced
that on water only could such trying work as
that before me be accomplished. I kept on,
with brief pauses, through the day, and held
to the track as long as the moonlight served
me, urging on my flagging steed to the very
limits of his strength. Then, in the dark,
I dismounted, took off saddle and bridle,
hobbled my horse, and tethered him so that
he had ample space to graze. Then, I lay
down, wrapped in my blankets, pillowed my
head upon my saddle, and fell asleep with my
weapons by my side.

I awoke with a start, in the pitch dark night,
and could not well remember where I was. My
horse was uneasy, and his abrupt motions had
disturbed me. I heard a rustling in the long
grass, a scratching, a pawing of light feet
amongst the herbage, and a whining sound as
of hungry dogs whimpering for food. Dogs?
There were no dogs there. Wolves! And
my horse, on whose security my life might
depend, was trembling and bathed in
perspiration. I had kindled no fire, apprehensive
lest the light should attract some band of
prowling savages; and now the coyotés were
gathering around us like flies about honey. For
myself, I felt no fear: the wolf of America is
very different from the "grey beast" of German
forests or Pyrenean snows. But my poor nag
was in danger, and his very tremors were adding
perilously to the exhaustion of the long and
hurried ride. I rose, and began groping about
for brushwood. Luckily I was still in a well-
watered region, where shrubs and undergrowth
abounded, and where the gigantic cotton-wood
trees reared their majestic forms beside the
streamlets. I soon came upon a clump of
brush, and cutting with my sharp and heavy
knife as much as I could carry in both arms, I
returned with it, and cleared a little space of the
grass, which was long enough to be dangerous