jumped to his feet and loudly thumping his desk, shouted: "I'll have 

 you understand, sir, that I'm under no oblibegoddamgations to you, or 

 any other man, sir." Cincibegodnati was also attributed to the Gen- 

 eral's haste to swear. He was said to be the only officer who "swore be- 

 tween syllables." 



Leaving the shady comforts of Laramie, we moved over to Fort Rob- 

 inson in Nebraska, where we were received, as almost invariably at 

 the army posts, with the utmost kindness, and a vacant set of quarters 

 was assigned to our use. We were detained here some time by delay in 

 securing a wagon and team, as, previously, we had made only tem- 

 porary arrangements, from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie and from Lara- 

 mie to Robinson, but now it became necessary to secure transportation 

 that we could keep for the remainder of the season. While waiting, we 

 made an excursion to some bad lands about ten miles away. All the 

 party, except myself, were carried in an ambulance; I rode my horse 

 and the post-trader's son, Ben, mounted on a big condemned cavalry 

 horse, rode with me as guide. We collected some good fossils, ate our 

 luncheon and started back to the post, the ambulance going by the 

 circuitous road, Ben and I by a much shorter route across country. 



A violent storm of rain and hail caught us and as such storms are 

 often only a few hundred yards wide in that semiarid region, we started 

 to gallop through it, when, to my horror, I saw Ben's horse fall with 

 him and saw the boy lying motionless, on the ground, apparently dead. 

 I jumped off my horse, unfortunately neglecting to throw the reins 

 over his head. Happily the boy was not dead, merely stunned, and the 

 cold rain soon revived him; the horses, however, would not let me catch 

 them and so I got Ben, half carrying him, down to the road. There I 

 speedily met a man driving a light wagon and a pair of horses, the 

 meanest man I ever met, who refused to stand for a few moments, 

 until our horses should come to his wheel. All broken horses in the 

 cow country will come to a stationary wagon, but this kindly soul, 

 though seeing that my companion was badly hurt, would do nothing. 

 Saying: "Oh! I guess I can't help you any," he whipped his horses and 

 left us. Most fortunately, the ambulance was still behind us and soon 

 came up. 



In all my wanderings through the Far West, that was the only time 

 I met a man who did not gladly volunteer help to any one who needed 

 it, not to mention the refusal to help, when asked for it. In so thinly 

 settled a country, mutual help was often a matter of life and death and 

 no man could foresee when he might stand in desperate need of it 



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