50 CAMPING WITH THE PRESIDENT 



the journey was made in big sleighs, each drawn by 

 two span of horses. 



On the horseback excursion, which involved only 

 about fifty miles of riding, we had a mule pack train, 

 and Sibley tents and stoves, with quite a retinue of 

 camp laborers, a lieutenant and an orderly or two, 

 and a guide, Billy Hofer. 



The first camp was in a wild, rocky, and picturesque 

 gorge on the Yellowstone, about ten miles from the 

 fort. A slight indisposition, the result of luxurious 

 living, with no wood to chop or to saw, and no hills to 

 climb, as at home, prevented me from joining the party 

 till the third day. Then Captain Chittenden drove 

 me eight miles in a buggy. About two miles from camp 

 we came to a picket of two or three soldiers, where my 

 big bay was in waiting for me. I mounted him confi- 

 dently, and, guided by an orderly, took the narrow, 

 winding trail toward camp. Except for an hour's 

 riding the day before with Captain Chittenden, I had 

 not been on a horse's back for nearly fifty years, and 

 I had not spent as much as a day in the saddle during 

 my youth. That first sense of a live, spirited, powerful 

 animal beneath you, at whose mercy you are, you, 

 a pedestrian all your days, with gullies and rocks 

 and logs to cross, and deep chasms opening close 

 beside you, is not a little disturbing. But my big bay 

 did his part well, and I did not lose my head or my 

 nerve, as we cautiously made our way along the nar- 

 row path on the side of the steep gorge, with a foaming 

 torrent rushing along at its foot, nor yet when we forded 

 the rocky and rapid Yellowstone. A misstep or a 

 stumble on the part of my steed, and probably the first 

 bubble of my confidence would have been shivered at 



