Also
that he was owned by the post trader at Fort Maginnis, who was making
a pet of him. So, as the horse had a good home and gentle treatment,
it was once more decided to leave him up in his native mountains. It
might have been cruel to have brought him here to suffer from the
heat, and to be frightened and ever fretted by the many strange sights
and sounds. But I am not satisfied, for the horse had an awful fear of
men when ridden or driven by them, and I know that he is so unhappy
and wonders why I no longer come to him, and why I do not take him
from the strange people who do not understand him. He was a
wonderfully playful animal, and sometimes when Miller would be leading
the two horses from our yard to the corral, he would turn Rollo loose
for a run. That always brought out a number of soldiers to see him
rear, lunge, and snort; his turns so quick, his beautiful tawny mane
would be tossed from side to side and over his face until he looked
like a wild horse. The more the men laughed the wilder he seemed to
get. He never forgot Miller, however, but would be at the corral by
the time he got there, and would go to his own stall quietly and
without guidance. Poor Rollo!
CAMP NEAR UINTAH MOUNTAINS, WYOMING TERRITORY,
August, 1888.
TO be back in the mountains and in camp is simply glorious! And to see
soldiers walking around, wearing the dear old uniform, just as we used
to see them, makes one feel as though old days had returned.
Pages:
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403