into within full sight of
Harrisburg. I knew that the man told the truth, but nobody else would
believe that any human being dared to do such a thing, or could do it.
And now you fully prove that it was done."

There came to Goshorn's three very interesting men with whom I became
intimate. One was Robert Hunt, of St. Louis. He was of a very good
Virginia family, had been at Princeton College, ran away in his sixteenth
year, took to the plains as a hunter, and for twenty-three years had
ranged the Wild West from the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific. At the end
of the time an uncle in the Fur Company had helped him on, and he was now
rich. He was one of the most genial, gay, and festive, reckless yet
always gentlemanly men I ever knew. He expressed great astonishment, as
he learned gradually to know me, at finding we were so congenial, and
that I had so much "real Injun" in me. His eyes were first opened to
this great fact by a very singular incident, of which I can never think
without pleasure.

Hunt, with two men who had been cavalry captains all through the war, and
his friend Ross, who had long been an Indian trader, and I, were all
riding up Elk Valley to look at lands. We paused at a place where the
road sloped sideways and was wet with rain. As I was going to remount, I
asked a German who stood by to hold my horse's head, and sprang into the
saddle. Just at this critical instant--it all passed in a second--as the
German had not heard me, my horse, feeling that he must fall over on his
left side from my weight, threw himself _completely over backward_. As
quick as thought I jumped up on his back, put my foot just between the
saddle and his tail, and took a tremendous flying leap so far that I
cleared the horse. I only muddied the palms of my gloves, on which I
fell.

The elder cavalry captain said, "When I saw that horse go over backwards,
I closed my eyes and held my breath, for I expected the next second to
see you killed." But Robert Hunt exclaimed, "Good as an Injun, by God!"
And when I some time after made fun of it, he shook his head gravely and
reprovingly, as George Ward did over the gunpowder, and said, "It was a
_magnificent_ thing!"

That very afternoon Hunt distinguished himself in a manner which was
quite as becoming an aborigine. I was acting as guide, and knowing that
there was a ford across a tributary of the Elk, sought and thought I had
found it. But I was mistaken, and what was ho