A Sportsman 133 



The murdered man had no name or paper about 

 him by which he could be identified, and a rough box 

 was made for his interment, which took place the fol- 

 lowing day. The grave was not very deep on the 

 side-hill, and no more than two or three besides our 

 party attended the burial. Brune got out his old 

 Episcopal prayer-book and read the burial service. 

 As he was reading, down the road came a dozen 

 bushwhackers riding as if in a race. When they saw 

 us on the hillside they abated the speed of their horses 

 and came up to us, inquiring what was going on, and 

 on being informed, one of them dismounted and, giving 

 his horse in charge of a companion, said: "I will make 

 a prayer for the dead man," and, kneeling by the 

 grave, gave a frightfully blasphemous prayer for the 

 dead, remarking as he remounted, "That will save him 

 from hell." They all then rode off at a racing speed 

 and we saw no more of them. We remained silent dur- 

 ing the interruption, and afterward Brune proceeded 

 with the service. The grave was filled and a pine 

 board was placed at the head, which probably soon 

 disappeared from the action of the elements. This 

 narration, so strictly accurate, indicates the condition 

 existing at the time. 



Going down to Denver to arrange for my departure 

 to the Central Parks, I was surprised to meet there 

 two friends of mine from Boston, Daland and Twing, 

 who had arrived for the same purpose I had, and 

 they readily agreed to accompany me on the proposed 

 excursion. Supplying ourselves with horses and pro- 

 visions and two assistants — one a good guide and hun- 

 ter, and the other the unfledged millionaire I before 

 referred to — we started off in good spirits. In three 



