200 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept. 8, 1894. 
"A TERROR OF A RIDE." 
It is interesting to note how some little occurrence will 
suggest and vividly recall to us incidents in our past lives 
which have perhaps lain long forgotten in memory's 
storehouse. It may be too, that there is no particular 
similarity between the two events in question, neverthe- 
less there will be something about the one which will 
cause the mind to quickly revert to the other. Thus I 
chanced to read the other day of the narrow escape of a 
trout fisherman in northern "Wisconsin, from death by the 
fierce forest fires which have been ravaging and desolat- 
ing that region during the past summer, and then my 
mind swiftly went back to the perils which beset another 
trout fisherman a good many years ago in Colorado. In 
this latter case the peril was not from fire, but it is my 
belief now as I recall the moments of agonized apprehen- 
sion and suspense I then suffered, that anything so tangible 
as fire, despite its terror-inspiring presence, would have 
been hailed as an absolute relief to me. 
It was in the early seventies that it happened, at which 
time I was in the employ of an English mining company 
whose base of operation was about seventy miles south of 
Denver, and close up to the snowy range. It was a very 
lively camp, at least 400 or 500 men being employed in 
the development of the mines, the construction of the 
reduction works, smelter, and such other work as is in- 
cident to the building up of a mining camp. As is usually 
the case in these places, a considerable number of tough 
characters drifted into the camp, attracted by the flush 
times created by the company's large expenditure of 
money. Indeed the camp very soon became quite to"gb, 
shooting and carving affrays being of painfully fre.quent 
occurrence, while as a little side diversion the Denver 
stage, which passed within about four miles of camp, 
was occasionally held up and the mail sack and passengers 
were relieved of such valuables as they chanced to have 
about them. At this time the post office of the camp was 
at a stage station about nine miles distant, and every 
afternoon some one from the camp was sent down to get 
the Denver mail. It so happened that the choice often 
fell upon me, and much to my pleasure it may be said, 
for the road all the way down closely followed one of the 
branches of the South Platte, which in those days afforded 
superb troOt fishing, and I was passionately fond of that 
sport. 
From the days of early boyhood in southern Michigan, 
the sports of the stream and field had been to me a never 
ending source of delight, and while the landing of an 
extra fine bass or pickerel seemingly filled my cup of joy 
quite full, yet I never ceased to look forward to my first 
trout as an occasion when life would put on a new and 
more glorious coloring. I can well remember after my 
arrival in Denver, the pent up eagerness with which I 
awaited my first chance to cast a fly, and how, when the 
opportunity at length arrived late one afternoon, with 
what a swelling heart and trembling hand I launched 
the feathery lure on the edge of a dark, shady pool which 
I intuitively felt was the abiding place of royalty. 
Ah, that first rise! It was an epoch in my life. . How well 
I remember the sudden flashing of rainbow colors in the 
cool dark depths, and how wildly my heart beat when a 
moment later there burst upon my vision the graceful 
outlines of a superb trout as he swiftly cleaved the waters 
in his fierce upward rush. I scarcely know what hap- 
pened for a moment in such a tumult of excitement was 
I, but in another moment I felt a violent surge as he 
sought to free himself, and then with a fierce throb of 
exultation I realized that I had him well hooked. Then 
the battle waxed hot and furious. Hither and thither he 
tore through the swift waters, varying his mad rushes 
with frantic leaps in the air, only to find himself still a 
prisoner. All at once he seemed to summon his fast 
tiring energies for one supreme effort, and as he grace- 
fully fell back after a mighty leap upward, I felt with a 
sinking heart that sudden slacking of the line which told 
me only too well that he was free. I have since that time 
brought many a princely fellow to creel, but somehow 
there has always remained deep down in my heart the 
conviction that the trout I lost that day, the first one 1 
ever fastened, was the most royal treasure that ever glad- 
dened an angler's eye. 
It was not long after my arrival in camp before I was 
well acquainted with the stream. There was not a likely 
looking pool or riffle for miles down that I did not know 
of, and the many happy hours I spent following its pic- 
turesque windings amid an ever shifting panorama of 
beautiful and sublime scenery, will ever remain among 
life's golden memories. 
It so happened that owing to a pressure of work I had 
been unable to indulge in my favorite sport for some time 
previous to the afternoon in question, so that it was with 
more than ordinary pleasure that I contemplated my mis- 
sion this day. I took about two hours to make the jour- 
ney down, stopping here and there at some favorite pool, 
and with such success that my basket was well filled be- 
fore I reached the post-office. I remember one place in 
particular, a long, deep, shady pool made by a beaver 
dam, from which I took a number of beautiful fish — eight 
or ten at least. Indeed, 1 had an ideal afternoon's sport, 
and it was with positive regret that I saw the log post- 
office loom up before me. 
The Denver stage usually reached here about 5 o'clock, 
but this afternoon, owing to an accident down the road, 
it did not arrive until after 7. By the time the mail was 
sorted, and I had secured that intended for camp, it had 
grown quite dark, observing which fact, and also recall- 
ing the presence of the many rough characters in the 
neighborhood of late, the postmaster urged me to remain 
until morning. I, however, had a young man's dislike to 
a seeming confession of weakness in the face of possible 
peril, and besides I was satisfied that my failure to return 
before morning would probably lead my friends to be- 
lieve that some harm had befallen me. Moreover, I had 
an unusually str< ng and swift horse, in addition to which 
1 carried a big Smith & Wesson .44cal. revolver, which I 
could use with as much rapidity and accuracy as the aver- 
age man in camp, and that is saying that I was a pretty 
good shot. So despite the postmaster's rather urgent in- 
vitation, I decided to return to camp that night, and in a 
few moments I was on my way. 
I had proceeded about a mile, I should think, quite un- 
eventfully, when chancing to look up at the top of a 
rather sharp hill up which I was traveling, I noticed in- 
distinctly outlined against the faint after-glow which was 
still visible in the west, what seemed to be the figure of 
a man on horseback, standing quietly by the side of the 
road. It was only for a moment that I saw it. but there 
was no doubt in my mind as to what it was, and at the 
same moment there rushed into my mind with the force 
of almost positive conviction the thought that it presaged 
trouble for me. My first impulse was to turn about 
quickly, and ride back to the post-office, but fearing the 
ridicule which might be visited upon me, in view of the 
light manner in which I had treated the postmaster's sug- 
gestion of danger, I determined to keep on my way, think- 
ing after all it was more than probable that my fears had 
greatly exaggerated the possibilities of danger for me. I 
determined to be on my guard, however, and drawing my 
revolver from the holster I laid it full cocked over my left 
arm so as to command the mysterious horseman when I 
passed him. As I drew near I saw that he was leaning 
forward in his saddle, and then to my alarm I saw that 
his right hand was resting on his holster as though grasp- 
ing the handle of his revolver. I had been exceedingly 
apprehensive from the first, and when a moment later I 
Blowly rode by him, my excited nerves were keyed up to 
tne highest tension. Indeed, I don't believe that man 
will ever know how close he was to death, for had he 
made the slightest hostile demonstration, I should have 
shot him without a moment's hesitation. It is just pos- 
sible that he caught a gleam of my revolver, or guessed 
from my peculiar attitude that I was maintaining a steady 
"drop" on him, for he made not the slightest movement, 
save that he slowly turned his head and followed me with 
a fixed and penetrating; gaze. But not a word nor even 
nod did we exchange with one another, and when at 
length the intervpning darkness had swallowed up the out- 
lines of his figure, I struck the spurs into my horse, anx- 
ious to put as much space as possible between myself and 
the grim sentinel of the hilltop. 
I had gone perhaps a hundred yards when I was startled 
by the sharp crack of a revolver, evidently fired by the 
man whom I had just passed. I was revolving in my 
perplexed mind the reason for this rather strange proce- 
dure, when I heard another shot some considerable dis- 
tance ahead, fired evidently in response to the first shot. 
For a moment I pondered as to its meaning, and then like 
a flash came the thought to my mind that I was trapped, 
the victim of a cunning plot; that the man whom I had 
just passed had identified me as the mail carrier, and had 
so signaled to his fellow bandits who were lying in wait 
for me, and who would now be prepared to hold me up, 
or perhaps shoot me first. • 
How I did wish I had accepted the postmaster's advice 
and bad remained with him until morning, or had acted 
on the impulse which seized me when I first detected the 
sentinel on the hilltop. But, alas! now it was too late, and 
with the cold perspiration of despair oozing from every 
pore, I sought to collect my paralyzed faculties and decide 
upon some plan of action. If the character of the ground 
had permitted, I should have sought to hide off the side of 
the road somewhere, but the mountain rose steep and 
rocky on one side, and on the other was a sheer drop of 
twenty feet at least to the river below, so that escape that 
way was out of the question. I seemed to myself to be 
like a rat in a pit, with no possible chance of escape, when 
suddenly there came to mind the memory of an old Indian 
cut-off or trail from the main road, which I had traversed 
several times. It left the main road, as I remembered, 
about a mile and a half above the post office, and struck 
it again about three miles and a half above, saving nearly 
a mile of travel; but it was very rough in places, and I 
almost doubted whether I could get through m safety at 
night. But the prospect did not trouble me in the least, 
my only fear being that I would be unable to find the 
opening of the trail at night, as it was pretty well ob- 
scured by bushes and trees, or that the ruffians who were 
lying in wait for me should prove to be stationed this side 
of the opening. It seemed to be my only chance of escape, 
however, and I determined to make a try for it. 
As near as I could make out in my naturally agitated 
state of mind it was not to exceed a quarter of a mile 
from me, and after riding perhaps 200yds. at a rapid 
pace, I drew my horse down to a walk, and pulling him 
well over to the right side of the road, I sought with 
eager gaze for some evidence of the opening. As moment 
succeeded moment, however, without the slightest trace 
of it, a feeling of utter despair began to take possession of 
me, and to my feverish fancy it seemed as though each 
succeeding moment would bring with it a stern summons 
to halt, or the deadly crack of a Winchester or revolver. 
Once I halted, certain that I heard the low voices of men 
a little ahead and to the right of the road, but as nothing 
else followed, I resumed my way in a moment. I was 
just in the act of turning about, certain that I had passed 
the trail, when my eye was attracted by a quaking asp 
tree, distinguished by its lighter appearance, a few feet 
ahead of me, and recalling the fact tnat such a tree stood 
at the opening of the trail, I directed the horse toward it. 
It would be difficult to give any conception of the sus- 
pense I suffered while traversing that short intervening 
space, for I felt that should 1 fail in this attempt to find 
the opening, I would in all probability fall a victim to the 
wretches who were lying in wait for me. 
It was but a second, but it seemed ages before I reached 
it, and when the horse passed on unhesitatingly by it, a 
flood of inexpressible joy rushed to my heart, for 1 knew 
that I had found the trail at last. For some little distance 
I rode at a walk, deeming it the part of wisdom to keep 
as quiet as possible until 1 had got well out of the hearing 
of any one on the road. At the same time I realized the 
imperative necessity of making all possible despatch, lest 
the highwaymen, knowing possibly of the trail, should 
su°pect that I had taken it and should endeaver to inter- 
cept me at the other end. And so in a few moments I 
began to ride, and what a ride it was. The imminent peril 
of my situation made me oblivious to the danger of the 
trail, and 1 was soon tearing over it like one possessed. 
Realizing the danger from low-hanging bows I leaned 
forward in my saddle with my head carried as low as pos- 
sible, but in spite of this precaution my hat was soon 
knocked from my head, my coat sleeve was torn almost 
in ribbons, and my hand and arm with which I was en- 
deavoring to shield my face were scratched and bleeding 
in a dozen places. Three or four times the horse stumbled 
and nearly fell, sure-footed as he was, and once I just 
escaped being thrown over his head. Once he suddenly 
stopped, and upon investigation I found a fallen tree lying 
directly across the trail,which 3 after some little difficulty, 
I managed to get around. Two or three times I heard the 
quick bounds of startled deer, and once a great bird, an 
owl I fancy, flew so near to me that I distinctly felt the 
fanning of its wings. As I began to draw near the main 
road again, a torturing anxiety possessed me lest the road 
agents, suspecting the manner of my escape, had ridden 
swiftly to the upper entrance of the trail, and were there 
awaiting my appearance. 
At length, however, I emerged from the trail into the 
highway, and to my intense relief found no one waiting 
for me. And so I had outwitted the bold bandits, and it 
was with very pleasant feelings toward myself that I 
started my horse at a swinging gallop toward camp. 1 
realized that I was slightly disfigured, but I could not help 
feeling that I was still in the ring, and by a large majority. 
My erstwhile acute apprehension had given way to a 
feeling of exuberant confidence and security, and so great 
was the stimulus of the reaction that I seemed to regard 
the recent inpident as on the whole a rather interesting 
and not altogether unpleasant experience. 
Such a thing as further trouble I never thought of, save 
now and then, deceived doubtless by the tumbling stream 
near by, I fancied I heard the distant galloping of horses. 
It was in this rather pleasant frame of mind that I ap- 
proached what was to me at night a somewhat uncanny 
bit of road. The high precipitous mountains on either 
side drew nearer together, and the intervening space was 
filled with a dense growth of timber, which made the 
place one of inky darkness at night. The thought which 
caused the creepy feeling, however, to run along my 
spine, was the fact that a year or two before a man had 
been waylaid and murdered by a couple of Mexican 
greasers, and I had a discolored spot on a long white stone 
by the roadside pointed out to me as the blood marks of 
the victim who fell and died updnit. Despite my utter 
disbelief in ghosts, I never passed that spot alone at night 
without experiencing a very uncomfortable feeling. It 
seemed an ideal spot for disembodied spirits to materialize, 
and to my excited feelings at times it seemed as though I 
could detect in the dull outlines of the white stone, the in- 
distinct contour of a prostrate figure. 
I presume it was the sense of danger overcome, and the 
reaction from a state of high nervous tension, that made 
me less susceptible than usual to-night to these impres- 
sions, although they recurred to me with more or less 
force. Indeed, I was speculating as to whether the ill- 
fated traveler had no warning whatever of the presence 
of the Mexicans, when suddenly my horse with a snort 
of terror stopped still, and stood trembling like a leaf. 
The impenetrable darkness, the grewsome associations of 
the place, and my previous experience all went to make 
my position one of demoralizing terror. I think that to 
the average man there is something uncanny about a 
great forest at night, even when one feels that there is no 
possible danger at hand. The sense of helplessness which 
accompanies one's inability to see and protect one's self 
against any possible assault, seems to stimulate those 
superstitious chords which are latent within us all. When 
to this are added the elements of positive danger, and a 
spot steeped with grewsome associations, the situation be- 
comes one well calculated to try the stoutest heart. Men 
who know not the meaning of the word fear in the face 
of positive, tangible danger, become under the conditions 
above narrated the victims of an overpowering, helpless 
fear. 
I scarcely know how it all affected me. For several 
moments I seemed to be in a state of semi-paralysis, so 
unexpected and overwhelming was the scene of this new 
danger evidently so near at hand. I sat there with drawn 
revolver, motionless, and with a feeling of utter helpless- 
ness, awaiting the onslaught of the hidden foe. The 
actions of my horse left me in no doubt as to the presence 
of danger; and I expected that each succeeding moment 
would bring with it the savage cry and fierce onslaught 
of some wild beast, or the explosive flash of a highway- 
man's gun. My horse gave renewed evidence of fear, 
and of such a violent character, that I could not help but 
feel that the crisis was near at hand. I had turned him 
partially around, determined if possible to go back down 
the road a bit and decide upon ray future course of action, 
when there came to my ears the distinct sound of horses' 
feet coming up the road. There was no doubt about it 
this time, and each succeeding second seemed to bring 
them perceptibly nearer. I hadn't the slightest doubt 
that the new comers were the ruffians whom I had foiled 
down the road, and rather than fall into their hands 
after having once escaped them, 1 determined to face the 
new danger, let the result be what it would. To my 
horror, however, my horse refused to budge an inch, de- 
spite my most frantic efforts to urge him on. At length, 
rendered thoroughly desperate by the steady approach of 
the horsemen, I drove the-spurs savagely into him three 
or four times. The cruel punishment was more than he 
could bear, and after making two or three frantic efforts 
to turn around, he suddenly sprang forward with a snort 
of mingled pain and terror. Just before me there was a 
slight dip in the road, and a few feet beyond the ascent 
on the opposite side there was a small piece of compara- 
tively open ground which was lighted up by the rays of 
the moon, which shone upon it through a sharp cleft in 
the mountain at the left. Just as I gained' the edge of this 
opening I saw a few feet ahead and to the right of the road, 
clearly outlined by the moon's rays, a very large cinnamon 
bear. I saw him a moment before the horse did, and 
almost intuitively I reached forward and grasped the 
right bridle rein, realizing that as soon as the horse saw 
the bear, he would probably endeavor to turn sharply to 
the left, where the thick timber would undoubtedly 
quickly dismount, if not seriously injure me. 
Then the horse caught sight of the bear, the scent of 
which had evidently all along been the cause of his fear. 
I really shouldn't dare give my candid, honest opinion as 
to the height and length of the tremendous leap which 
followed. Suffice it to say that, prepared for it as 1 was, 
so convulsive and vehement was it in the force of its ener- 
gized terror, that my feet flew out of the stirrups, and for 
a moment I seemed to balance exactly on the end of my 
spine, undecided whether I was to fall off or stay on. In 
another moment, however, I luckily recovered my equi- 
librium and settled back in the saddle, but not in time to 
keep the horse entirely out of the timber. Indeed, it was 
some little time before I got him in the road again, and 
not before I had received several more thump3 on my 
already thumped and bruised anatomy. At length, how- 
ever, I swung him into the road, and I have a very dis- 
tinct recollection of extending to him every possible en- 
couragement in his efforts to get to camp as quickly as 
