It seemed hours before Coonskin returned. By this time I had found a footing so I could rest with my head out of water.
"Why were you gone so long?" Pod asked, as he sat himself on a rail to rest his windpipe.
"Well," said the winded man, adjusting a lariat, "I hunted all over Manitou before I found the superintendent of the waterworks."
"I told him of the fix of our donks, and asked him to change the course of the stream till we could get them out of the pool."
"Oh, he was civil enough; said he, 'If you would like to have the mountain moved a little to one side I will have it put on jackscrews without delay."
Now it nettled me to listen to such nonsense while Damfino and I were refrigerating in ice water, and I brayed to the jester above: "Say there, you old fool, if you had only thought to have him pump the water out of the canyon above us you might have furnished a little dry humor that we would have appreciated."
The lariat was found to be of little service, but soon a couple of tourists arrived on the scene and assisted the two with their contract to raise the devil, as well as the bed of the torrent, and, at length, to extricate us water-soaked donks from our unhappy predicament. Then we were taken to the stable, rubbed down, and put to bed.
It is the property of great men to rise to the height of great events.--_Victor Hugo._
The city of Colorado Springs possesses many attractions, and is growing in population and wealth. Here is a good-sized collection of pretty homes, built on wide and well-shaded streets, where reside beside the health hunter of independent means the mining king, the wealthy ranch owner, the Eastern capitalist, and the English tourist or speculator.
Friday morning we entered that picturesque Swisslike hamlet of Manitou with flying colors. The summer tourists were either lounging on the broad verandas of the hotels or assembling for burro trips to the Garden of the Gods and other famous retreats in the mountains.
Coonskin and I rode our favorite mounts to the principal hotels, Hiawatha Gardens and the iron and soda springs, at which several places I delivered lectures to the amused tourists and reaped a small harvest.
The Garden of the Gods is some distance from town, the popular drive being fourteen miles from start to finish. To ride our slow steeds there would mean a sacrifice of a day's time. So after much prospecting, I bargained with a garrulous but genial guide to drive us with his team to the Garden and Glen Eyre for the sum of $2.