The American West

Still more would I like to go over again the many magnificent trips

made across the interior plains, mountains, and deserts before the

days of the completed Pacific Railroad, with regular "Doughertys"

drawn by four smart mules, one soldier with carbine or loaded

musket in hand seated alongside the driver; two in the back seat

with loaded rifles swung in the loops made for them; the lightest

kind of baggage, and generally a bag of oats to supplement the

grass, and to attach the mules to their camp. With an outfit of

two, three, or four of such, I have made journeys of as much as

eighteen hundred miles in a single season, usually from post to

post, averaging in distance about two hundred miles a week, with as

much regularity as is done today by the steam-car its five hundred

miles a day; but those days are gone, and, though I recognize the

great national advantages of the more rapid locomotion, I cannot

help occasionally regretting the change. One instance in 1866

rises in my memory, which I must record: Returning eastward from

Fort Garland, we ascended the Rocky Mountains to the Sangre-de-

Cristo Pass. The road descending the mountain was very rough and

sidling. I got out with my rifle, and walked ahead about four

miles, where I awaited my "Dougherty." After an hour or so I saw,

coming down the road, a wagon; and did not recognize it as my own

till quite near. It had been upset, the top all mashed in, and no

means at hand for repairs. I consequently turned aside from the

main road to a camp of cavalry near the Spanish Peaks, where we

were most hospitably received by Major A---- and his accomplished

wife. They occupied a large hospital-tent, which about a dozen

beautiful greyhounds were free to enter at will. The ambulance was

repaired, and the next morning we renewed our journey, escorted by

the major and his wife on their fine saddle-horses.

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