[an. i8, 1908.1 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
89 
; old and disused track not far from the post 
)j located on a picturesque plain near the 
icture of the Smoky Hill and Republican 
■ers. Arriving in due time we found the grand 
;nd packed, and added to the general hum of 
idtement a band, made up of school boys, burst 
th at intervals with magnificent discords and 
od stirring clangor. It was a gala day for 
erybody, and brass buttons were as thick as 
Is. After the usual defay and palavering the 
i t race, consisting of two sets of horses, ridden 
• man fashion, at length started. Amid wild 
ds and a general craning of necks away they 
<e, stretching out in admirable style and run- 
ig neck to neck. One trio was guided by a 
airy sergeant, a big, powerful Dane or Swede, 
ih a shock of tawny hair, piercing blue eyes, 
l a bushy mustache; but what was more he 
e like a veritable fiend. Little by little he 
led ahead of his opponent, and crouching for- 
, d with elastic muscles and each foot planted 
lly on the back of the outside horse, he swept 
lashing the big bays into a splendid finish, 
j; succeeding races proved equally strenuous, 
1 one rider suffered a nasty fall, lying still 
1 prone after striking earth. I have little 
bt that had he been able to stand he would 
:e resumed his place and gone forward with 
performance. Such men must necessarily 
ice good soldiers and better fighters, 
o the lover of horse flesh Riley offers an 
1 cing atmosphere. Every variety of horse, 
-n the thoroughbred to the roached nag, from 
1 trim polo pony to his unshaven brethren, is 
evidence. But of all, perhaps, the polo pony 
(Is the most conspicuous place. Twice a 
k the officers, decked out in white cork hel- 
is and fluttering red and yellow jackets, came 
''ther, and for two or three hours in the 
rnoon kept the horses as well as themselves 
roughly exercised. The contests were al- 
■ s racy, and like all other sports there is a 
ty and art in playing this game which must 
years to acquire. On warm spring days 
ii the sunbeams resting hazily on the square 
hr-green hills, with mats of wild flowers 
'ring the plain, it was a memorable sight 
ee the players go dashing across the turf, 
> together, now separated, the little ponies 
<ing and sweating as if their very lives de¬ 
led on it; and during the heat of the game, 
"h never failed to smack of risk and danger 
nid clicking mallets and flying dust—the 011- 
.er was able to share with the performers 
: excitement, and frequently found his equi- 
im knocked about as violently as the ball, 
her since, I have retained a warm affection 
rpolo ponies in general; a sentiment, how- 
( which was more justified by my acquaint- 
1 the “old man.” From the first until 
?ast time I rode him, no unpleasantness came 
•een us. Unlike “Modestine,” in Stevenson’s 
■tncial travels, he never displayed an ungen- 
•> inclination, and was ever kindly disposed 
: ambitious. 
the country around Riley invited explora- 
1 a good mount was doubly to be appreciated, 
to the opening up of new scenes, which 
1 wise would have remained unknown, there 
added the enjoyment always afforded by a 
broken pleasantly gaited saddle horse. The 
man ’ fulfilled every requirement; his' trot 
sometimes to be remembered; his canter was 
and best of all he was as sure footed as a goat. 
One of the first long rides wc ever took to¬ 
gether was in April, and I remember it as being 
an afternoon which satisfied to a great extent 
that longing for new and potent impressions, 
which so frequently overtakes us in the spring. 
There was no wind as we crossed the river and 
struck toward a spur of low rolling hills, mean¬ 
ing to take a course parallel with the stream 
after going back a mile or so, and the atmos¬ 
phere radiated an intense clarity which shone 
and glistened over the distant country. Birds 
sang on every side; the ringing song of meadow¬ 
larks, mingling with the more delicate and more 
copious melody of the lark bunting, while quail 
and cottontails scurried into the brush on either 
hand as we jogged along. Great undulating 
fields, .green with young wheat and alfalfa, 
stretched near and far, and occasionally a soli¬ 
tary farm house came in sight, its well-stocked 
barnyards and orchards giving it an unmistak¬ 
able air of prosperity. 
Nearly all the farmers in this region are 
Gerfnans or Swedes, and I was frequently im¬ 
pressed by a certain pathetic expression visible 
on the faces of many; men and women alike 
seeming laden with the burden of endless toil. 
Once, however, I remember passing a young far¬ 
mer whose countenance was as ruddy as the 
hills, and who answered our inquiries about the 
way with genial grace. Still, there is small 
wonder as to the existence of the farmer, when 
one considers the loneliness and monotony that 
must necessarily become part of their lives; hut 
again they are blessed in having God’s clean 
air to breathe, instead of the evil, health-devas¬ 
tating atmospheres with which their classes have 
to contend in all large cities. 
Riding along the south side of the valley we 
presently gained higher ground and looked down 
on the winding course of the Kansas River and 
over the surrounding country whose salient feat¬ 
ures were sharply defined by rim rocks of mag¬ 
nesian limestone. Striking up a long steep hill 
we came at length upon a view which would 
have richly repaid one had the climb been twice 
as rough and difficult. Precipitous hills and 
deep gullies, tinged faintly with verdure bay 
about us, while in every direction, as far as the 
eye could reach, rolled a wilderness of open 
country to merge in blue and purple waves in 
the light of the horizon. Northwestward, broken 
by hard blue shadows and reflecting a peculiar 
reddish hue, stood a succession of oddly shaped 
buttes, one rising like some ancient pyramid 
against the sky, and another stretching low and 
oblong for a considerable distance. They awoke 
in the beholder strange vibrations. Perhaps they 
had once been the dwelling place of a long for¬ 
gotten race. It was a region of weird beauty 
whose vastness could only be penetrated by the 
power of dream. 
Southward the hills loomed nearer, wearing a 
bleak unkempt aspect that sent a thrill of primal 
elation through one’s blood, for the old love of 
the wild and crude in nature still comes surg¬ 
ing back to fill our veins with unquenchable fire, 
and the day is yet far distant ere this most 
potent of racial sentiments shall cease to stir and 
give healthy tone to the act of living. 
As evening approached an indescribable frag¬ 
rance drifted up from the alfalfa fields, and the 
west became flooded with the advancing legions 
of an April sunset. Cattle could be seen roam¬ 
ing over the hills or moving like dark specks 
along their crests several miles away; and once 
a cowpuncher clattered across a neighboring 
slope driving before him half a dozen ragged 
ponies. Gradually the sky deepened and the 
valley sank into the gathering shades of night. 
Scenting home the “old man” broke into a 
brisk canter, and the cool air smote one’s face 
with the sweetness of spring and sang like wine 
in the region of one’s heart. A bugle sounded 
faintly from the other side of the river, while 
just above the dusky outlines of the post burned 
a great red star, the same that had risen and 
set over the wanderings of Lewis and Clark 
and their fearless successors—men who wore 
blue and buckskin, and whose names bring back 
memories of bloodshed and immortal courage. 
At the present day the West seems to stand 
like a wholesome, clear-eyed guardian behind 
the unrest and strife of modern civilization. 
Her plains and mountains and wilderness are 
full of rich promise and stupendous resource, 
and she is forever harboring and dealing out the 
vitality which fortifies and gives power, alike to 
the mind and body of a nation. 
Ancient Landmarks 
B ENT’S FORT was the most important trad¬ 
ing post in the south as Fort Garry was 
in the north. It lay on the old Sante Fe 
trail, and was the principal trading post for the 
Cheyennes, Arapahoes, Kiowas, Comanches and 
Apaches. Situated on the north bank of the 
Arkansas, about six hundred and fifty miles west 
of Fort Leavenworth, it was a large and strong 
edifice. It was about a hundred and fifty feet 
north and south, by a hundred east and west, 
and was surrounded by an adobe wall six feet 
thick at the base and seventeen feet high. 
One of the early explorers of the west, Thomas 
Farnham, writing in 1839, says of it: “The 
fort is entered through a large gateway on the 
eastern side, in which swing a pair of immense 
plank doors. At the northwest side and south¬ 
east corners stand two cylindrical bastions about 
ten feet in diameter and thirty feet in height. 
These are properly perforated for the use of 
cannon and small arms, and command the fort 
and the plains around it. The interior area is 
divided into two parts, the one, and the larger 
of them, occupies the northeastern portion, which 
is nearly a square. A range of two-story houses, 
the well and the blacksmith’s shop, are on the 
north side; on the west and south are ranges 
of one-story houses; on the east the blacksmith’s 
shop, the gate and the outer wall. This is the 
place of business. Here the owners and their 
servants have their sleeping and cooking apart¬ 
ments, and here are the storehouses, the area 
