A Sportsman 113 



running into the main road, had been carried away, 

 and this creek had to be crossed on the route down Oil 

 Creek to the optioned tract. The creek, I was told, 

 could be forded a short way above the bridge site. I 

 managed, over the muddy and half -flooded sidewalks, 

 to get to a livery stable to engage a saddle-horse for 

 the trip, but was met with a decided refusal from the 

 keeper to let any horse out in the present condition. 

 Looking over his saddle-horses, I asked him if he would 

 sell me a pretty sturdy -looking nag with a saddle and 

 bridle outfit, which he answered in the affirmative, the 

 price being one hundred and fifty dollars. I paid him 

 the sum, and started out, leaving my bag with him 

 for safekeeping until my return. My starting out 

 to ford the creek attracted a number of dead-head 

 spectators as the creek had not been forded since the loss 

 of the bridge. My horse took the water in good cour- 

 age, but the water kept growing deeper until I had to 

 hold my legs up as high as I could, and I commenced 

 to congratulate myself upon a comfortable passage, 

 when my horse dumped in and commenced swimming. 

 I had some difficulty in keeping on, but had acquired 

 some experience in swimming horses, and succeeded in 

 doing so by hugging down on my horse's neck and by 

 holding on to his mane. I lost my seat before getting 

 over, but kept my mane hold, and although the cur- 

 rent was strong got safely across with him. I then 

 had fifteen miles of a frightfully muddy road to get 

 over to the tract in view, where the mud in its clayey, 

 tenacious character was about the worst I ever en- 

 countered, and if I had not had a very strong horse I 

 could never have gotten over it. I arrived at the tract 

 about noon, and found in reality that a new powerful 



