GRACE GREENWOOD ON PIKE'S PEAK. 55

The first I knew, mine, or the one I had spoken for,
was gone—let to another and a bolder party. Then—
I am proud of the fact, for it shows decision of charac-
ter and iron nerve—just as soon as, the very moment
that I found I could not go, 1 was determined to go. |}
I dressed in ten minutes, actually in ten minutes; I
ordered a carriage, had put in it my saddle, bridle and
red camping blankets, then sprang in myself, and not
stopping to bid a tender farewell to my only child, lest
it should melt my stern resolve, dashed away toward
‘the old town,’ Colorado City, hoping there to obtain
a horse and intercept the grand procession of Pike’s
Peakers, which was to leave the ‘new town,’ Colorado
Springs, at 9 a.m. It was already considerably past
that hour, but they had three miles to come. Arrived

 

at the venerable metropolis, I drove to the first livery
stable. No horse, not even a mule. I drove to the
second and last stable. There was but one pony be-
longing to the establishment sturdy enough to carry a
woman of my size to Pike’s Peak, and he had just been
turned out to grass after a summer of hard service; be-
sides, he was uncommonly spirited, and had never been
mounted by one of the weaker and timider sex. But
science is remorseless and rash. I said I would take
him and all the risks if he could be got.

“You see it seemed to me that if I did not make
Pike’s Peak on that day my life would be a signal fail-
ure. I think my spirit and resolve were contagious.
The gallant stable-man started of at once, halter in
hand, and soon passed out of sight over the windy

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