We hired a carpenter to build us a boat, loaded it with grub and
supplies, and started gayly down the Platte for home. But the bad luck
of that trip held steadily. The boat was overturned in swift and
shallow water, and we were stranded, wet and helpless, on the bank,
many miles from home or anywhere else.
Then a miracle happened. Along the trail we heard the familiar crack of
a bull-whip, and when the train came up we found it was the same with
which we had enlisted for the outward journey, returning to Denver with
mining machinery. Among this machinery was a big steam-boiler, the
first to be taken into Colorado. On the way out the outfit had been
jumped by Indians. The wagon boss, knowing the red man's fear of
cannon, had swung the great boiler around so that it had appeared to
point at them. Never was so big a cannon. Even the 42-centimeter
howitzers of today could not compare with it. The Indians took one look
at it, then departed that part of the country as fast as their ponies
could travel.
We stuck with the train into Denver and back home again, and glad we
were to retire from gold-mining.
Soon after my return to Salt Creek Valley I decided on another and, I
thought, a better way to make a fortune for myself and my family.
During my stay in and about Fort Laramie I had seen much of the Indian
traders, and accompanied them on a number of expeditions.
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