ways in sight. I have developed
much sagacity in finding a trail, or I should not be able to make use
of such directions as these: "Keep along a gulch four or five miles
till you get Pike's Peak on your left, then follow some wheel-marks
till you get to some timber, and keep to the north till you come to a
creek, where you'll find a great many elk tracks; then go to your right
and cross the creek three times, then you'll see a red rock to your
left," etc., etc. The K's cabin was very small and lonely, and the
life seemed a hard grind for an educated and refined woman. There were
snow flurries after I arrived, but the first Sunday of November was as
bright and warm as June, and the atmosphere had resumed its exquisite
purity. Three peaks of Pike's Peak are seen from Oil Creek, above the
nearer hills, and by them they tell the time. We had been in the
evening shadows for half an hour before those peaks ceased to be
transparent gold.

On leaving Colonel Kittridge's hospitable cabin I dismounted, as I had
often done before, to lower a bar, and, on looking round, Birdie was
gone! I spent an hour in trying to catch her, but she had taken an
"ugly fit," and would not let me go near her; and I was getting tired
and vexed, when two passing trappers, on mules, circumvented and caught
her. I rode the twelve miles back to Twin Rock, and then went on, a
kindly teamster, who was going in the same direction, taking my pack.
I must explain that every mile I have traveled since leaving Colorado
Springs has taken me farther and higher into the mountains. That
afternoon I rode through lawnlike upland parks, with the great snow
mass of Pike's Peak behind, and in front mountains bathed in rich
atmospheric coloring of blue and violet, all very fine, but threatening
to become monotonous, when the wagon road turned abruptly to the left,
and crossed a broad, swift, mountain river, the head-waters of the
Platte. There I found the ranch to which I had been recommended, the
quarters of a great hunter named Link, which much resembled a good
country inn. There was a pleasant, friendly woman, but the men were
all away, a thing I always regret, as it gives me half an hour's work
at the horse before I can write to you. I had hardly come in when a
very pleasant German lady, whom I met at Manitou, with three gentlemen,
arrived, and we were as sociable as people could be. We had a splendid
though rude supper. While Mrs. Link was serving us, a