me," and for the next half hour it was amusing to hear the jokes
these three old friends tossed at each other, for, of course, Bridger
joined in.

After they had their fun with each other, Carson asked Beckwith what he
was doing there. Beckwith answered, "I have staked off a claim here,
Kit. It is not a claim either. It is a farm," and he pointed to a little
bunch of timber a short distance from our camp. "I intended to build a
cabin in that grove of timber," which he afterwards did, and he lived
there about thirty years and died there about fourteen years ago as I
was informed a year ago, when I was in Denver for the first time since
Carson, Bridger and I camped on his claim.

When Jim Beckwith told us that he had taken up land and was going to
build on it and make himself a home there, I wondered what he would do
to make a living. The land seemed to be fertile enough, but I did not
see any chance to sell what he might raise if he tried farming, but I
was told that he cultivated the land for awhile and then it was too
valuable. So he cut it up into lots and sold it, and now it is covered
with business houses and residences, and all this change has taken place
in forty-nine years.

As I stood and looked at the streets and blocks of houses, I found
myself almost doubting that that was the spot where we had camped
forty-nine years ago. When memory called back to my mind what a barren,
desolate country it was at that time, it almost seemed incredible that
such a large city could be built and such a vast change be made in less
than fifty years, and not only in this particular spot but for miles and
miles all through the surrounding country.

While we were in camp, I was down on the banks of Cherry Creek one day,
and there were fifteen or twenty Indians sitting on the bank, and among
them was a squaw who had a pistol in her hand. She seemed to be
playing with it when several white men came along, and one of them was
intoxicated. This one went up to the squaw and, taking hold of the
pistol, tried to wrench it from her hand, and in the struggle the
pistol was discharged and the man dropped dead. Some of his companions
threatened to take vengeance on the Indians, but there were so many
other white men standing around that had witnessed the whole affair and
knew the Indians had done nothing to be molested for, they would not
allow the Indians to be troubled. So the men took the body away, and
that was the end of the affair.