Larimer County, Colorado - The whole text, 1911 (part 5 of 22)

"Nearly thirty years ago, while traveling in the Taos valley in New Mexico, we chanced to camp for the night at the same watering place with a dude-looking Spaniard or Mexican named Mariana Modena. He had a squaw wife who wore a blanket and moccasins. Mariana wore a blanket coat gaily ornamented with silk. When upon the road he rode in a dilapidated carriage with a pair of Hawkins rifles within easy reach. His team of four horses was guided by an Indian who rode the right wheeler and directed the leaders with a jerk line. Mariana was a pompous little fellow who had not only lived with Indians but had killed many, and was as watchful as a hawk lest some buck came upon him unaware and claimed revenge. When at home he lived in Colorado on the Big Thompson and was well fixed with cattle, sheep and ponies. But when Jack - the renegade Indian Chief - ^was out Mariana kept in. On this occasion Mariana was down in New Mexico to let Jack have Northern Colorado to himself. As he expressed it to us, 'he didn't want to kill an Indian, but should have to if he got his eye on Jack', said he', I am carrying six bullets in my body that Jack and five others have fired at me at different times, and when I meet one of them I am in duty bound to kill him. Jack is the only one left - I'll get him by and by."

Mariana Modeno, First Settler In The Big

In after years we became well acquainted with the Spaniard or Mexican when at his home on the Big Thompson. He was a kind hearted fellow, who as the saying went, 'was no coward', but always kept company with his Hawkins rifle. You could never hail him at his door but he came out smiling with "Old Lady Hawkins", as he called his gun, in his hand. Well, after a time - in June 1878 - from the effects of the numerous bullets he had in his body, poor Mariana laid down and died. But before crossing the range he sent for his good friend. Gen. A. H. Jones of Denver, and presented him his much

In 1864-5 and 6, when the United States soldiers occupied Camp Collins, the high ground at the southwest corner of College avenue and Oak street, which the Government recently purchased as a site for the new federal building for which money has already been appropriated, was consecrated as a burial place for those who died here while in the service of their country. A number of soldiers were buried here and in 1874 their graves were opened and the bodies of the dead transferred to Mountain Home cemetery, situated in the southeastern part of the city limits, and reinterred. Six of these graves were found, but the names of only one of the occupants has been preserved. In opening the grave a bottle containing a paper bearing the following was found by J. E. Shipler, at the head of it :

"I am really sorry to be pained with the duty of announcing the death of hospital steward, W. W. Westfall, of Company 'F' 13th Missouri Veteran Volunteer Cavalry, which sad event transpired on the 8th day of November, 1865, at the hour of 6:20 p. m. at this place.

It is a pity that the name of Westfall's companions who died in the wilderness during their trying early years, have not been preserved in local annals. The new postoffice which the Government will in due time erect on the ground occupied by the first made graves of those valiant soldiers and patriots, will be a monument to the memory of. their heroic deeds by which it was made possible to rear a city in what was a trackless wilderness when they gave up their lives.

In 1865, Graham flour was almost unknown in Larimer county. One time when white flour was not to be had for love nor money, the late Charles W. Howell, who then lived in Pleasant Valley, went to the Laporte store where he bought fifty pounds of the coarse flour. It seems that he and his good wife, who still survives him at an advanced age, were sublimely innocent regarding the excellent qualities of that kind of flour, and the next day, Charlie took the flour back to the store and told the storekeeper that his wife had tried her level best to make bread, biscuits and cake out of that flour and couldn't do it to save her. Continuing, he said "if old man Graham couldn't make any better flour than that, he'd better go out of the business." Charley never heard the last of his experience with Graham flour as long as he lived.

All old timers remember Judge Howard who lived at Laporte. The judge was a well-educated, clever old man, but too fond of his toddy. One time when he was pretty full, he was taken before a justice of the peace and accused of stealing whiskey. Several well-known residents of the vicinity at that time acted as attorneys and witnesses. The judge was found guilty and sentenced to be tied to the spokes of a wagon wheel and given nothing but whiskey until he starved to death. Accordingly, the judge, who was pretty well scared out of his intoxication, was tied to a wagon wheel and the wheel set in motion so that part of the time his head and then his feet were in the air. He was finally left in that position nearly half the night, howling, praying and threatening dire vengence upon his tormentors. It was a long time after that before the judge allowed the cup that cheers to get the better of him.

The judge had a habit, after leaving the store, of putting his ear to the keyhole to listen to what was being said about him by those on the inside. A stage driver found it out and put up a job on the old man. One night after Judge Howard had purchased a large paper sack full of eggs he left the store, but stopped to listen at the keyhole. The stage driver began at once to tell in a loud voice how the judge had once stolen an old blind mule and eloped with the owner's wife. In a moment the door was flung open and the judge, livid with rage, bounded in and exclaimed : Gentlemen, you are a set of liars and robbers! Forgetting his eggs, the old man

While A. H. Patterson had charge of Stover's store at Laporte in 1870, he fixed up a game for loafers. It consisted of a needle with a spring attachment at one end of the counter and a string leading to the opposite end, which, when pulled gave a vigorous thrust to the needle up through a hole in the counter. One day Bill Taylor sauntered in and settled himself on the counter right over the needle. Someone slipped around and gave the string a vigorous yank. Bill hunched up one shoulder and shut one eye, at the same time moving rather livelier than usual in getting off the counter. He caught on but was mighty quiet about it. The next victim to learn the secret was Norm Meldrum, who afterwards, became State Senator, Secretary of State, Lieutenant Governor and the Surveyor General of Colorado. When the needle sprung, Denny, as he was called, shot off the counter and let out a warwhoop that would have done justice to a Sioux Indian. It wasn't long until Johnny Theobald, the shoemaker, came in and squatted down right over that mischevious needle. Bill Taylor, thirsting for revenge, slipped around and pulled the string. Peck, peck went the needle and still Johnny sat looking as innocent and unsuspecting as a spring chicken. After Bill had began to sweat around the collar from pulling the string, Johnny moved leisurely off the counter and reaching into the bay window of his trousers, drew out a piece of heavy sole leather. Somebody had put him wise to Billy Patterson's trick and he came prepared to turn the laugh on the other fellow.

In 1865, a band of thieving, blood-thirsty Sioux Indians swooped down upon the Cache la Poudre valley and drove off a large number of horses. Among the sufferers from the raid was Rock Bush, who lost several head of animals. He put in his claim for damages to the Government soon after, and in November 1886, twenty-one years afterward - he got word from Washington that he had been allowed $700 - the amount of his actual loss without interest. His claim, with thousands of others of a similar nature, had laid in some pigeon hole at Washington all that time awaiting the slow-going movements of the powers that be. Mr. Bush, who is still living and one of the surviving venerated pioneers of the Cache la Poudre valley, was thankful that his life was spared to see the end of the matter and to enjoy the use of the money so long past due.

The pioneers of Larimer county had many things to contend with, some of them of a nature to severely test their courage and fortitude. All of the country northwest, north and northeast was swarming with thieving, blood-thirsty savages, until after the Union Pacific railroad was built to Cheyenne. The settlers were always in constant fear of a raid by these marauders. Their fears were often augmented by a number of French settlers who rode up and down the river, spreading alarms, for some of which there was sufficient cause, but in many instances they were entirely baseless. When danger was apprehended the settlers left their homes and hid themselves away as best they could. On one of these occasions Andrew Ames of the Poudre Valley picketed his seventeen horses and lay in the field for several days watching them day and night. At last, worn out by his vigils, he fell asleep and the next morning every animal was gone. Borrowing a mule from Jesse Sherwood, he started on the trail of the supposed Indians, and at Denver discovered that the thieves were a band of Mexicans. He recovered nearly all of his horses and returned home.

The settlers were often more apprehensive of the degraded whites connected with the Indians than of the Indians themselves. Many an outrage charged to the Indians in those days was committed by white outlaws or Mexicans. In times of danger, after the soldiers came to Camp Collins, in 1864, the men hurried their families to the post while they remained at home watching their property from hiding places near at hand.

The state of feeling that existed in Indian times is illustrated by the following incident: A man named Charles Facet kept three or four large ox teams at Spring Canon. One day he come rushing to Judge Howes' place on the Poudre, on a panting pony, with another man on behind, and said the Indians were after him and had stolen his cattle and driven them into the hills. The settlers rallied, the soldiers turned out and a big crowd went back with Facet, where they found the cattle grazing quietly. A few half-breeds from Laporte gathering berries had thrown the man into a panic. The nerves of the inhabitants were nearly all of the time strung to the highest tension by fear of Indian raids.

The Overland stage employes were also a source of annoyance. They were, as a rule, a drunken, carousing set of men, and Slade, who had charge of this division, was a desperado of the first water. Andrew Ames furnished the Laporte station and the next station west with hay. In his commonest business transactions with Slade the latter always kept his hand on his gun. It was one of Slade's pastimes at Laporte to hold a cocked revolver in a stranger's face and march him into the saloon to drink with him. One day Slade and most of his men got on a tear at Laporte and dumped the storekeepers' groceries into the middle of the floor, poured molasses and flour all over them and then called the proprietor in, the men then putting him in the stage, hauled him to the Laramie Plains, where they dumped him out. This little bit of fun cost Slade and his gang $800, which he promptly paid after sobering up.

On December 30, 1866, occurred the first wedding solemnized in Fort Collins, the contracting parties being the Hon. Harris Stratton, a former member of the Kansas Territorial Legislature, and Mrs. Elizabeth L. Keays, a niece of "Auntie" Stone, Fort Collins' first permanent white woman settler. The ceremony was performed by County Judge Jesse M. Sherwood, a pioneer of the Cache la Poudre valley, in a small log house built for Colonel Collins' headquarters, which stood just back of where the Tedmon house now stands. The wedding guests were C. Boulware, H. C. Peterson, A. H. Patterson, Norman H. Meldrum, "Auntie" Stone, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Forbes, Dr. and Mrs. T M. Smith, Mr. and Mrs. N. P. Cooper and their three daughters. In 1867 Mr. Stratton represented Larimer county in the Colorado Territorial Legislature. One of the guests, Hon. Norman H. Meldrum, was a member of the Territorial Council in 1875, and was the first State Senator elected from the county after Colorado became a state, serving in the first General assembly. In the fall of 1878 he was elected secretary of state and re-elected in 1880, serving two full terms, and was appointed surveyor general of Colorado by President Arthur in 1883, and in the fall of 1886 was elected Lieutenant Governor of Colorado. He is now a resident of Buffalo, Wyoming. He and the bride and Mrs. A. J. Ames of Denver, who was one of the Cooper girls, are believed to be the only survivors of that happy wedding party. Mrs. Stratton is still a greatly beloved resident of Fort Collins and, though having passed four score years, she enjoys good health and takes a great deal of interest in public affairs. Three lovely daughters were born of this union, Lerah, Marguerite and Sophia, the first named being Mrs. P. J. McHugh of Fort Collins, and the last named Mrs. A. Anderson, late of Columbus, Nebraska, but now of Imperial Valley, California. Marguerite died a few years ago while serving as librarian of the State Agricultural College.

In 1865, when the soldiers were stationed at Camp Collins, Joseph Mason kept a sutlers' store in the Grout building, which stood on the corner, where Frank Stover's drug store now stands, and W. D. Hayes, known as "Billie" Hayes, was one of his clerks. Chief Friday and his band of Arapahoes were camped on Mr. Coy's place. The squaws and their papooses used to hang around the store a, good deal, the little Indians shooting at a mark with their bows and arrows. They would hit a penny fastened in a split stick stuck in the ground almost every time. One day, thinking to have some sport with "Billie," they got him out to shoot with them. "Billie" was a good shot with the bow, but his dusky friends didn't know it. He took the bow and made all sorts of awkward moves and wild shots, which greatly pleased the Indian boys and their mothers. Finally one of the squaws pointed to an Indian dog in the street as if to say "shoot him." "Billie" drew his bow and sent an arrow clean through the dog, killing him instantly. The squaws immediately set up a wail of lamentation over the death of the dog. At last one of them gathered the dog in her arms and started for home. The next day "Billie" was invited to the Indian camp to take dinner. He went, but when his dusky hosts served up the feast he coucluded his stomach was a little too sensitive to hold dog-meat and he declined the proffered dish. The squaws, thinking they had called the turn on him, had a good laugh over his squeamishness. The soldiers at the post took it up and "Billie" wasn't allowed to forget his dog feast while he remained here. Mr. Hays is now a prosperous banker at Hastings, Michigan, but no doubt often recalls his experiences in Fort Collins, forty-five years ago.

In April, 1899, Lieutenant D. McNoughton of Grand Rapids, Michigan, spent a few days in Denver, and in an interview with a reporter for the Denver Republican, related the following incident which occurred when his command of the Seventh Michigan succeeded the Eleventh Ohio troops at Camp Collins, early in 1865:

"In 1865 a band of Sioux captured two wagons loaded with government supplies, a few miles northwest of Camp Collins, on the Salt Lake coach road. The drivers escaped and reported the facts to the officers in command at the camp. In the pursuit of the Indians, two of Lieutenant McNoughton's command were killed, but several of the Indians were 'good' from thenceforth. At the time of the attack on the wagons, a soldier had been captured and his charred body was found bound with chains to the wreck of the wagon, where he had been burned alive by the redskins."

The fight with the Indians spoken of by Lieutenant McNoughton took place June, 1865, at Willow Springs, the next stage station west of Virginia Dale.

In 1883, the late Augustine Mason related the following incidents which came under his notice in the early days of the settlement, with some of which he was personally connected :

"While Chief Friday and his band of Arapahoes were camped on the Sherwood place, a band of roving Cheyennes set up their tepees for a few days on the north side of the river, nearly opposite Chief Friday's camp. This bunch of Cheyennes were warriors who had participated in many of the fights against the whites on the Plains, while Chief Friday and his band were peaceable and friendly toward the white settlers, and the Cheyennes taunted them with being squaw men and afraid to fight. At last one of the latter asked Chief Friday if he had a fighting man in his band. This aroused the indignation of Friday's son. Bill, and he shot the Cheyenne dead with a revolver. For fear that his act would get his father into difficulty, the young Indian took his three squaw wives and fled north out of the country. Later, when he supposed the trouble had blown over, he attempted to return to his father's camp and was overtaken by a party of Pawnee warriors, who killed him, cut off his head and set it on a pole, and otherwise horribly mutilated his body. His three squaw wives were taken prisoners."

"Mr. Mason bought the Rist Canon road of Joe Rist in 1868 for $75. His brother, Joseph Mason at that time owned the bridge over the Poudre In Pleasant Valley. As it fell to the brothers to keep the road and bridges in repair, Joseph suggested that they make the county a present of both properties, which they did."

The first Catholic services conducted on the Poudre were held in the fall of 1866. Bishop Machebeuf, then a priest, celebrated mass on a Saturday in Mrs. Stratton's school house in which she was teaching a private school. The following day mass was celebrated again in Henry Forbes' house, which stood on the farm lately owned by William F. Watrous. In 1878, after the Remington school building was about ready to occupy, the old public school building, the first one erected in Fort Collins, was purchased by the Catholics and

"Judge A. F. Howes started the movement, in 1870, to build the first public school building erected in Fort Collins. It was a small frame building and stood on Riverside avenue near the corner of Peterson street. It has since been converted into a dwelling house and is occupied as such. It cost about $1,100, and Augustine Mason's school tax that year was $165.25. The district was immediately afterwards divided and Mr. Mason was placed in District No. 11. Although he had helped to build the new school house, he had to pay $3 a week for the privilege of sending his child to the Fort Collins public school. Mr. Mason brought the first shoemaker to Fort Collins. His name was "Johnny" Theobald, whom Mr. Mason found in Denver on his uppers and in debt. A few months after locating in Fort Collins, Theobald paid off all his debts and continued at work here for several years."

"The late Joseph Mason and the late F. W. Sherwood were warm personal friends and each trusted the other to the fullest extent. In the early days they engaged in the stock business together, buying and selling horses and cattle. There were no articles of agreement in writing between them - only an understanding that each should share in the profits of their transactions, which they divided from time to time. Mr. Mason did most of the buying and selling and Mr. Sherwood kept the accounts as rendered by -the former. This was continued for several years, and when they concluded to dissolve partnership, the books showed that Mr. Mason was indebted to Mr. Sherwood, as the latter's share of the profits, in the sum of $6,250.50. 'All right,' said Mason, 'Here is a check for $6,250, but I'll see you hanged before I'll ever pay the fifty cents.' It was thus that an account running for several years and involving the handling of tens of thousands of dollars, was settled by these two pioneers, whose faith in the honor and integrity of each other was unbounded. They had large contracts for supplying the Government with beef cattle and horses at Fort Laramie and other military posts, and every penny of the receipts was religiously accounted for in the settlement."

In 1868, Dr. W. R. Thomas, Professor of History and Irrigation Law at the Colorado State Aggicultural College, traversed the Cache la Poudre valley on horseback in the interest of the Rocky Mountain News. Twenty-five years later he again visited the valley, this time traveling by rail, and in a letter published in the Rocky Mountain News of December 28, 1893, he indulged in the following reminiscence :

"Broad and beautiful is the valley of the Cache la Poudre." I recall the sentence written just twenty-five years ago for the NewSj and as I rode along the valley the other day in one of the elegant coaches of the Union Pacific train, I also recalled the first ride I ever made along the banks of the famous and historic stream. The Cache la Poudre then marked the line of Colorado's northern frontier settlement. The danger of Indian raids still threatened the valley. The old California trail, along which the Mormons had marched to Utah, over which the forty-niners had made their way to California, which had been tramped by the columns of Albert Sidney Johnston in his expedition against Brigham Young, and which had been traveled by the fleet riders of the Pony express and the stage coaches of the Overland line, was still broad and well defined. There was but one family living between old Latham station on the Platte and Ben Eaton's ranch on the Cache la Poudre. A few miles further up the stream was the ranch of Uncle Jesse Sherwood. Fort Collins had just been abandoned as a military post and consisted of half a dozen adobe and log buildings. Laporte, where Col. Bill Taylor kept the stage station, was the most important point in the valley, and was a primitive frontier trading point. Thus in the mellow sunshine of a late autumn day I saw the broad acres of the valley, sloping gradually to the beautiful stream, whose course from the mountains to the Platte was marked by groves of cottonwood. The hardy pioneer had just entered into possession of this valley, and before it was a future grand with industrial possibilities. That future has been realized. There is today no more prosperous, enterprising, energetic or intelligent community in all Colorado than that which claims the Cache la Poudre valley as its home."

In July, 1868, General Grant, who had been nominated for the presidency, accompanied by Gen. W. T. Sherman and Fredrick T. Dent, visited Den- ver, coming West by stage via the Smoky Hill route. After visiting the mines at Central City and Georgetown, the party returned East via U. P. from Cheyenne, passing through this county on the stage and taking dinner at Laporte. The late William S. Taylor kept the hotel at Laporte and had the honor of entertaining the distinguished visitors. He had been notified of their coming by telegraph and prepared them one of the famous dinners for w^hich Mrs. Taylor was noted far and wide. Travelers by the Overland stage were always sure of a cordial greeting by Mr. and Mrs. Taylor and the best meal served by anyone on the entire line.

Mr. Coy came from the State of New York to the Cache la Poudre valley in the fall of 1862, and located on land he still owns and occupies adjoining the eastern limits of Fort Collins. When he settled here the houses and residences in the valley were few and far between. There was a house on what was later known as the Barry place, occupied by Capt. C. C. Hawley's family; a house on Judge Howes' place, and one just across the road, occupied by G. R. Strauss ; Tod Randall had a cabin on what is now the Slockett place. These were all on the north side of the river. On the south side of the river there was but one small, unoccupied cabin between the Sherwood place, four miles down the stream, and the Joseph Mason place, about a mile up the stream from what is now Fort Collins. Though there were plenty of Indians here at that time, he never had any trouble with them, as they did not molest him nor his property.

He did get a bad scare one time from what he supposed were Indians, and came very near blowing the head from off a white man. And this is how it occurred: In the fall of 1870 he went to Cheyenne with a load of vearetables, loading back with merchandise for Stover & Matthews. A few days before this a soldier had been killed and scalped near what is now known as Indian Springs, on the Cheyenne road. The soldier and his comrade had been out on a scout and the two had camped for the night near the springs. During the night their horses had broken their lariats and strayed away and in the morning the two men started out to look for them, each in a different direction. It was not long until one of them heard a shot, and, supposing his comrade had found the horses, he turned about and went in the direction whence the sound of the explosion had come. In a short time he came upon the dead, scalped and mutilated body of his comrade. He had found the horses and was returning to the camp with them when killed ; the Indians had stripped him of his clothing and gotten away with the horses.

Mr. Coy always carried a carbine with him, and thinking of' the fate of the soldier, kept a sharp watch for Indian signs. On passing Indian Springs he saw the edge of a blanket waving in the wind next to the bank of a deep creek-wash. Looking closer, he saw what appeared to his excited imagination like three heads beneath the blanket. He knew there was no use in attempting to turn his team and fleeing, for he believed the parties under the blanket had been lying in wait for him, so under the strain of a good deal of excitement, he got out his gun, jumped down from his load, determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. In his excitement and while his heart was pounding like a triphammer, a shell he was trying to slip into the gun got lodged in the magazine and he thought his time had surely come. He continued working away to get his gun in condition for execution and at last succeeded in getting the shell into place. With that, he stepped from behind his wagon and drew a bead on the central head, giving at the same time a yell that might have been heard for a long distance. Immediately there came a responsive yell that curdled Mr. Coy's blood; the blanket flew back and exposed the head of a white man. The stranger was a German, on his way to Cheyenne, and the day being cold and blustery, he had gotten down against the bank and drawn the blanket over his head to shield himself from the wind. Hearing a team coming, he had raised the blanket on each side of his head with his hands, making it look as if there were three heads under it. Greatly relieved, Mr. Coy drove on, congratulating himself on his narrow escaoe from killing the German. Just before reaching home he met Peter Anderson, to whom he related his adventure. Mr. Anderson replied, "That's the fellow who stole my blanket and revolver." Mr. Anderson jumped onto a horse and took the trail in search of the man, whom he found in camp at Maynard Flats. After recovering his property and scaring the fellow almost out of his wits with threats of sending the sherifif after him, he returned to his home, having ridden all night.

early sixties and had a very stirring experience. Musgrove, the all-round-bad-man and horse thief, who was finally hanged in Denver, had his headquarters at Laporte. He and his gang had a way of stealing horses and mules and selling them, and then, later, acting as detectives and hunting up the animals for a consideration, thus making money both ways. At that time there were many Indians at Laporte. They had a curious way of disposing of their dead. Scaffolding was placed in the tops of large Cottonwood trees and the dead placed one on each of them, and as buffaloes were plentiful in those days, the corpse was generally inclosed in a buffalo skin. Many of us old settlers who journeyed up the Poudre to the mountains in the early seventies saw some of the remains of these 'burials in tree tops.' "

In this connection. Attorney L. R. Rhodes of Fort Collins relates an incident regarding the Indian burial place near Laporte, with which he was personally cognizant, as follows:

"In 1872 there was being run down the Cache la Poudre river a large drive of logs, which were sawed up into lumber at Greeley. I was working on this drive, and from the first day of July to the first of August, the logs were driven from the Poudre canon to a point about opposite the present town of Windsor.

"One night, about dark, a young man by the name of Carrington, and myself were passing through a grove of Cottonwood just above Bingham hill. We noticed that in several large cottonwood trees some fifteen or twenty feet from the ground, there had been poles laid from one limb to another, and there was something that looked like a sack or bag resting on these poles. We had no idea what this meant. Carrington climbed one of the trees and attempted to loosen the poles so as to let the bundle drop to the ground. He succeeded, and without much trouble the bundle came tumbling down and proved to be the body of a dead Indian, wrapped in a buffalo robe and blankets. Inclosed within the buffalo robe were bows and arrows and various other Indian implements.

"We went on into camp and the next morning in some manner the squaw men living at Laporte learned of the Indian having been disturbed. There was great excitement and threats were made to deal summarily with young Carrington. Carrington left the drive that morning and I have never heard of him since."

On the 4th of July, 1879, the people of Fort Collins and vicinity held a celebration in a grove on the north side of the river. There was music, marching and speaking, the exercises of the day winding up with a fine display of fireworks, the first ever seen in Fort Collins.

Late in the afternoon three of Governor Eaton's ditch builders at work on the Larimer & Weld canal, then in course of construction, came into town and proceeded to fill themselves up with booze. Along in the early evening hours they began to be boisterous and disposed to make themselves decidedly disagreeable with their loud talk and swaggering ways. At last one of them, a young fellow, stole one of the paper balloons and pulling it down over his head, strutted around with it on in the form of a petticoat. This, the crowd thought, was 'carrying the joke a little too far, so Sheriff Sweeney and Billy Morgan, who was town marshal, took the three obnoxious fellows into custody.

There was no magistrate in town that day and no cooler and no county jail in which to confine the prisoners, and the officers were at a loss to know what to do with them. At last it occurred to Billy Morgan that Frank Stover was a town trustee, and if he didn''t have authority to try, convict and sentence for infraction of the peace in emergency cases, he ought to have, therefore making a virtue of necessity, which knows no law, the culprits were taken before Mr. Stover to be disposed of as he saw fit. Not having room in his store, which then occupied a small room in the Yo.unt bank building, he adjourned court to the street, using a barrel standing on end for a desk. Mr. Stover assumed a magisterial air and proceeded to arraign the accused on the charge brought against them. The young fellows, who were tenderfeet, by the way, and unfamiliar with wild, western ways for dealing out justice, except from hearsay, began to sober off and to think their days were numbered. They could see no mercy in the face of the court and no pity in the surroundng crowd. Visions of their lifeless tenderfeet swaying in the breeze from the limb of a cottonwood tree swept over them and they wilted. They pleaded guilty and threw themselves upon the mercy of the court, beseeching him to spare their lives and promising to leave town immediately and give no further trouble if he did so. After a short lecture, in which the court admonished them to forsake their evil ways and the cup that inebriated, the court imposed upon them a fine of $5.00 and costs. They could only scare up $1.35 between them, which the court accepted, the tender-hearted sheriff and marshal agreeing to donate their fees. The prisoners were then discharged and only hit the high places in their hurry to get out of town. The interrupted celebration was soon after brought to a close in a blaze of glory.

In September, 1865, Territorial Governor, John Evans, held a peace council with the Southern Utes at Fort Garland in the San Luis valley, to settle the troubles between the Indians and the Mexican population, and a peace was then concluded by a mutual indemnity. A battalion of the 21st New York cavalry, then stationed at Camp Collins, accompanied Governor Evans on this expedition as escort. Among the officers in command of the battalion were Capt. Farrar, Lieutenant Franklin, Lieutenant John H. Mandeville and Lieutenant George E. Buss. The trip he took on the occasion is one of Mr. Mandeville's most pleasant recollections and he enjoys relating incidents connected therewith. Governor Evans took along thirteen wagons heavily laden with gifts for the Indians. One wagon was loaded exclusively with navy tobacco, the plugs being a foot in length. There was also a great quantity of other articles intended to please the fancy and propitiate the fierce spirit of the redmen. Arriving at Fort Garland, the council was called and the Indians came in from all directions with their squaws and papooses. Ouray was the head chief of the Utes. Colorow joined the expedition at Denver and proceeded a part of the way with it. When the Indians got ready to talk they formed in circles, one within another, the head chief and his staff taking the outside circle and the others the inner, according to rank. In the center sat Governor Evans and his attendants. Major Head, who was the Indian agent, acted as interpreter. Lieutenant Mandeville had a seat near the governor and before the talk opened Mr. Mandeville, at the governor's request, procured a good sized piece of pine board. When everything was ready for the talk to proceed, the governor drew from his pocket a keen edged clasp knife and began to whittle long, clean shavings from the pine board. As he talked he whittled and before the council came to an end, he had whittled away several pieces of board. Chief Ouray's talk was mild and dignified. He had visited Washington and knew something of the strength and power of the Government and he favored peace and the signing of a treaty. Colorow, however, scored the whites unmercifully and bitterly complained of the treatment the Indians had received at their hands. As he warmed up to the subject, he moved round and round in his allotted circle, but the other speakers who were less excitable, stood like statutes when speaking.

The object of the council was accomplished and a treaty of peace between Ouray and Governor Evans was ratified. The Utes relinquished all their claims to the San Luis valley and mountains and that portion of the territory west of the Rocky mountains in which settlements had already been made. From this time there were no serious troubles between the Colorado Utes and the white population. Ouray always remained a friend of the whites and was made much of by Maj. Head. Governor Evans appointed him interpreter at the Conejos agency at a salary of $500.00 a year. The old chief died in 1880.

At the close of the council, the gifts brought by Governor Evans were distributed. They were passed out to the respective chiefs who in turn divided them among their people. Later the Indians had a feast, adding many of the provisions presented to them by Evans to their own store and indulged in a regular gorge. In the evening they held a dance which was attended by officers of the batallion. At one point in the dance, as the officers stood in a group watching the performance, the dusky dancers, highly painted up and chanting one of their wierd songs, circled around the guests and finally entirely surrounded them. When the officers manifested no little surprise at this proceeding, the Indians broke out into a hearty laugh at the joke they had played on the white men.

An interesting letter received recently by John G. Coy, tells of the old days in Fort Collins when "Aunty" Stone sold milk at fifty cents a quart, butter at a dollar and a half a pound, and proportinate prices were paid for all the necessities of life. The writer is at present living in Oswego, New York, of which town he is a native, and the writing of the letter is the culmination of a series of most interesting circumstances which are set out in the document. The letter reads as follows: "Mr. John Coy.

so I will tell you how this came about. I am storekeeper for the Government in Oswego and the building is only a block from where your brother, Ben, lives. He comes down and visits me. We were talking one day about the western country. I told him how far west I had been and mentioned Fort Collins and then Camp Collins. 'Why', Ben says, 'I have been there twice or three times and I have a brother living there now who has been there since 1863, I think, and I get the Courier every week.' This took place about a year ago. Ben said he would go to the house and bring down one, so he did and has continued letting me have one whenever there is anything in them he thinks would interest me ; and would you believe it, I am as much interested in them as I am in our local paper So about a year ago I wrote the editor of the Courier, giving him a sketch of the days when I was in and about Fort Collins. I was a member of the 21st New York cavalry, stationed at Fort Collins from 1865 to 1866, and if you were there in 1863-64, why you know about the 21st cavalry.

"Well, Ben said you lived down the river from Collins. One day, three or four of us Oswego boys took a stroll down the river, oh, a mile and a half or so. We came to a frame house and if I remember rightly it hadn't been built very long. We saw some milk pans out drying, so some of us boys says, 'let's have some milk.' We went in. This was in the afternoon. There was a woman and a couple of girls in the house and we asked them to sell us some milk. They said they didn't like to disturb the milk after it was set, so we said we would buy the whole pan full and pay whatever they thought it was worth. At this stage of the game, the man came in and we got to talking, and finally, he asked us what state we were from. We said Oswego, New York. 'Why', he said, is that so? I am from Oswego." He asked us if we knew Fitchne and Littlejohn and some other early settlers of Oswego. We had all the milk we wanted to drink and he wouldn't accept any pay for it and wanted us to come down often, as he liked to talk to us. There was another house across the river from Collins, built that spring or the year before. Then I wondered what anyone wanted to come out in that God-forsaken country and build a house with the intention of staying there. I wouldn't have stayed there for all Fort Collins and all the buildings in sight.

"While out there we went as far as Fort Bridger. We left Fort Leavenworth July 22, 1865, struck the Platte river at Fort Kearney, then up the river to

Denver and from there to Fort Collins to a post then called Virginia Dale, Little Laramie, Big Laramie, Cheyenne and on to Bridger. We were guarding the U. S. mail, which was carried by stage. We left Fort Collins the latter part of June, 1866, and glad we were to get away from there. It used to take a month to get a letter from home.

"A man by the name of Mason built a concrete store at Collins just before we got there and Mrs. Stone's little home was only a little ways from it. I bought bread, pies, and milk from her; 50 cents per quart for milk, $1.50 for a pound of butter. I forgot what we did pay for bread. We paid Mason 25 cents for a small glass of beer, $3.00 for a pint of whiskey. I once paid $1.50 for 13 apples. Who would want to live out there ? No work going on ; why one would have to live on prairie dogs and rattlesnakes in order to get along.

"Now I see Fort Collins has a population of 8,000 or 9,000, and I saw a picture of all your public buildings. They are fine, and were I able to stand the expenses of going out there on a visit, I certainly would go. The winter I was in Collins, there was about three or four inches of snow. Some of the officers built sleighs out of old boards and had a sleigh ride. It only lasted a few days. I could tell quite a lot of things that went on during the year I was on the Plains (that's what we used to call it) ; so, wishing you and your family and all the people of Fort Collins a prosperous future, I am Most respectfully,

An election was held in Larimer county in September, 1868, and James S. Arthur, F. W. Sherwood and John Arthur were appointed to register the names of all persons entitled to vote at that election. The board met on the 18th day of August and was sworn in by J. M. Sherwood, probate judge. The board proceeded to register the names of the following voters: James B. Arthur, James S. Arthur, John Arthur, Andrew Ames, Joshua Ames, Geo. E. Buss, Philander Bradley, N. P.

The registration book does not show what the election was to be held for, nor the names of persons to be voted for, but it was probably a general election as the book also contains the names of voters registered for an election held August 23rd, 1869 and August 24th, 1870. The board of registration for 1870 was composed of Thos. A. McCrystal, Joseph Prendergast and John Arthur. Those named for the board in 1869 are not given in this old book, though it contains the names of persons registered for an election held in 1869. The book was found by Deputy Sheriff Pindell in some old papers that had found lodgment in the sheriff's office and, so far as I have been able to find out, is the only record in existence pertaining to elections held in Larimer county between the years 1866 and 1878. As will be seen it contains the names of 49 persons entitled to vote in 1868. The precinct included all the territory lying east of the Coy farm to the county line and north of the Big Thompson divide to the north line of the Territory.

The first commercial cheese and, perhaps the first of any' kind, except cottage cheese, manufactured in Larimer county was made by Mrs. George E. Buss in 1886, on the Buss farm near Timnath. She had been reared on a farm and had seen and helped her mother make cheese and knew how it was done. Her facilities at the start were of the crudest kind. The hoop was hollowed out of a portion of a Cottonwood tree and the press was constructed out of the remnants of an old grain reaping machine, the tongue being used for the weighted lever. Notwithstanding her lack of up-to-date facilities and appliances, she made a number one article of cheese and it found a ready sale in Fort Collins and in the surrounding country. For quality, it beat the imported article all to pieces and was in great demand. The following year, encouraged by her success, Mrs. Buss obtained some galvanized iron cheese hoops and engaged more extensively in cheese making, turning out that year 7,000 pounds of first-class cream cheese. This, too, sold readily at good prices, Mrs. Buss realizing a nice little sum in the way of profit. That year (1887) a creamery was built at Fort Collins at which cheese was also made, but Mrs. Buss' cheese was so much superior to that made at the factory that there was no sale for the latter. The owner and manager of the factory called on that lady and tried to induce her to quit the business or else to market her cheese in Greeley and Eaton, saying that the competition was injuring his business. Mrs. Buss calmly told him that she had a good home market for all the cheese she could make and that she saw no reason why she should be at the extra expense of sending her product to other markets; that, if he was not satisfied with his market, he had a perfect right to hunt up a better one. This ended the conversation.

The labor involved in making so much cheese finally began to tell upon her strength and she had to give up the business, not, however, until she had demonstrated that cheese equal to the best New York or Wisconsin cheese could be made in Colorado. In 1889 Mr. and Mrs. Buss sold their farm and moved to Fort Collins which has since been her home. Her husband, Capt. Buss a gallant soldier of the 21st New York cavalry, which was stationed here in 1865-6, died in 1908.

The appended letter from William W. Sullivan, a Larimer county pioneer, and for many years an esteemed resident and business man of Fort Collins, contains so much of the flavor of pioneer days, and details so many incidents connected with the history of Fort Collins, that I am not called upon to offer any apologies for its appearance in the History of Larimer County.

Mr. Sullivan, from September 1st, 1886 to February 16, 1899, was principal owner and business manager of the Fort Collins Courier, of which the writer was, and still is, editor. His letter follows :

I read with much interest the early trials of Hon. W. C. Stover in a recent issue of the Courier. It is such incidents as these that decide a man's metal and, in Mr. Stover's case, proved that it was a man who had met reverses, and overcome them. It was as natural for Mr. Stover to become one of the leading personalities in the development of the great West as it is for the sun to rise in the morning.

We all had our trials in those days, even newspaper men coming in for a full share. In the fall and early winter of 1869, I was freighting from Cheyenne to Central City. I then figured that in the future a city would rise at some point on the Poudre, and calculated that it would naturally be where Fort Collins now stands. Having worked as"devil" on the Central City Register for two years, 1864- 1866, my thoughts naturally turned to establishing a newspaper; so it was the dream of my early manhood to found the first newspaper in Larimer county. In the winter of 1869-70 I attended Jarvis Hall at Golden, setting type at odd hours for the late Capt. George West on the Transcript. After the school term was over I continued as compositor on the Transcript until I had served the three years then necessary to entitle me to become a member of the Typographical Union. From Golden I went to Denver and became a member of the Denver Typographical Union No. 49. Here I set type on the different dailies for a long time as "sub", but finally got regular cases on the News. Things went well for a while until I had the temerity to oppose my own foreman in the election of officers in the union. He was a candidate for president and I opposed his election on the ground that a foreman should not hold that office. He resented by discharging me and, in 1872, I started on a regular printer's tramp east, and did not return for a year. When I returned J. S. McClelland had established the first paper in Larimer county, and dream No. 1 was blasted.

A short time afterwards Clark Boughton established the second paper, the Standard. General Cameron had established a colony at Fort Collins and another town had sprung up. The fight was on between the old and the new town, and it was very bitter. The Standard was published in the new town, about where the Fort Collins National National Bank building is now located. J. S. McClelland had built his printing office about where the Masonic Temple is located. The Standard was frankly the "organ" of the colony, and as such could look for scant support from the old town. This was the situation when I bought a half interest with Clark Boughton in the Standard, in the spring of 1874. Our partnership did not last long, however, Clark fell ill with inflammatory rhumatism, and his attending physician. Dr. Smith, informed me that he was worrying over the paper, and asked me to allow Rev. Myrick to buy his interest. I did not believe we could make a living publishing the Standard unless both parties were printers, and told

Mr. Myrick so. He was getting a small income as pastor of a very small church at the time, and he suggested that he would edit the paper and his son Herbert and myself could do the mechanical work and we would share equally in the profits or the losses of the business. On these terras we entered into a partnership for a year's time. Herbert proved an apt pupil at the business, and in a remarkably short time, became an expert compositor. By exercising the strictest economy we were able to make a bare living. Mr. Myrick and Herbert batched. Frank Avery allowed me to room with him back of his office free of expense, and for a long time we batched in a little 10 x 12 shack. It was summer time and fearfully hot to go there and cook and eat meals, and the height of my ambition was to get in position to board. But I could not figure that I could afFord it. Finally I made a trade with the late Captain Coon. I had become the possessor of a lot through work for the Colony, the one on which the late Jacob Welch built his stone residence. This I traded for board at the Agricultural hotel, being allowed one half of my board each week in payment on the purchase price of $150 for the lot, paying the other half in cash. These were the years of the grasshopper invasion and we were barely living, and had no profit for labor or investment.

Herbert thought he could manage the mechanical department with the aid of a boy, so I leased my interest to Mr. Myrick and started for the Black Hills in March, 1876. The grasshoppers came again and the Standard could not live, so Mr. Myrick suspended its publication. Like Mr. Stover's trials, the vicisitudes of the Standard bore its fruits. They developed the man in Herbert Myrick, and he is one of the most successful publishers in the United States today.

At one time I had a prospect of continuing the publication of the Standard, and if my plans had not failed probably the newspaper history of Larimer county would have read quite different. Dr. Smith and W. B. Osborn were candidates for county treasurer, the doctor being successful. He declined to qualify, and the commisioners tendered the appointment to the late J. J. Ryan. He lived on the Thompson at the time and did not care to move to Fort Collins. He made me the proposition that he would appoint me his deputy and I could receive the taxes at Fort Collins and he would collect on the Thompson, each of us receiving the commissions for his collections. This would have given me about $450 per year and enabled me to continue in the publication of the Standard. But Mr. Osborn proposed to the commissioners that he would collect all the taxes for $250 per j'ear, and the commissioners, my father being a member of the board at that time, appointed him at his price. But who shall say it was not for the best? Had the Standard continued, the Courier would probably never have been established, and Ansel Watrous would probably never have entered the business in Larimer county. W. W. Sullivan."'

On July 24th, 1879, a tragedy, resulting from deceit and disappointment in love, occurred at Pine Ridge agency in which William and John Provost, sons of John B. Provost of Laporte, figured as principals. The young men were both born and reared' at Laporte and were well known to all of the pioneers of the valley. Their mother was an Indian woman and when she returned to her tribe at Pine Ridge agency in 1878, the boys went with her and John, who had received a. smattering of an education in English and could speak that as well as his native tongue, was employed at the agency as interpreter. The unfortunate affair brought trouble and sorrow upon the father of the two boys, who resided at Laporte.

The particulars of the unfortunate affair, caused by love, jealousy and revenge, were published in the Fort Collins Courier as follows: "The two brothers, Billy and Johnny Provost, employed at the agency, the former stock superintendent, became enamored of a beautiful Indian girl named Soeteiva (Little Bird), daughter of Eagle Wing, a sub-chief in Red Cloud's band of Sioux. Before giving his consent, as is the custom among Indians, Eagle Wing demanded a horse as the prize of his daughter's hand in marriage. Billy Provost not having a horse to give, consulted an Indian, who gave him a horse as his own which in reality, however, belonged to a man named Clement Bernard, who, unknown to Billy, was also suing for the affections of the dusky maiden. Following the Indian's advice, Billy took the animal and delivered it to Eagle Wing, and was about to take his prize when Bernard appeared on the scene, claiming his property and putting a stop to further ceremonies. Provost, after finding out that he had been deceived, and being ejected from the lodge by the chief, seized with grief and remorse, placed a pistol to his head and blew his brains out.

John Provost, the interpreter, on learning of his brother's suicide, sought out the Indian who betrayed his brother and Bernard his rival, intending to kill them. Finding both in the agent's office, he deliberately and without warning opened fire on them, killing Bernard. Several Mexicans, countrymen of the murdered man, surrounded the murderer, and would have lynched him had it not been for the prompt action of Dr. McGillicuddy, the Indian agent, who sent young Provost under a guard of Indian soldiers to the military guardhouse at Camp Sheridan to be held pending a trial for murder by the civil authorities. The trial came off in due time and John was acquitted. The latest news from him is to the effect that he is living in Michigan and not troubled by regrets over avenging the untimely death of his brother William.

The following story of the intense suffering experienced by Captain James W. Hanna's troop of soldiers in a march from Fort Laramie to Fort Collins in January, 1865, was told a Denver News reporter by an old frontier soldier, and published in that paper in February, 1892. As it relates to incidents connected with the early settlement of the Cache la Poudre valley and gives a graphic description of that early march and the fight for life the troopers had with the elements, I reproduce the story in full :

"It was in January, 1865, when Captain J. W. Hanna, then commanding Company L, Eleventh Ohio cavalry, marched from Fort Laramie, under orders to proceed to Fort Collins, Colorado, to reinforce Major W. H. Evans, who, with Company F of the Eleventh Ohio, held that then frontier outpost. At that time the white settlers of the Cache la Paudre were few and far between. There was a stage station at Laporte a few miles above Fort Collins.

"It was a bright sunny January day when the seventy or eighty 'Buckeye boys', each clad in buckskin, buffalo and beaver trappings, rode joyfully up the Laramie river bound for the settlement. That night they camped on the Chugwater and, over bright, blazing campfires, told over wellworn yarns and felicitated themselves upon once more seeing white girls and calico after their three years' exile among the Sioux in far-off Black Hills. That night as they lay snug and cozy amid the sheltering boxelder groves, a blanket of snow about a foot thick was silently laid over them and their horses. Next morning as they resumed their march a genuine western blizzard set in and the mercury kept dropping all day. That night the boys, many of them sons of the best families of Ohio, nurtured in comfort and pernaps luxury, tasted the first bitterness of their terrible march. But they had abundance of wood, and if the wind whistled fiercely over the cheerless Plains, it did not trouble them down there in the valley of the 'Chug'.

"It is true the boys suffered some as they lay upon the frozen earth, their beds banked round with snow; but there was little complaint and little sleep, for they dreaded the morrow. There was a four-days' march ahead of them over a treeless, lifeless, wind-swept Plain, and a dark storm cloud hung over the hill. The next day the brave boys breasted the icy blasts silently and gloomily. The column kept well together, not because of fear of an Indian attack, but because of consciousness of unseen dangers. To straggle or laj behind meant death and a grave beneath the fast drifting snow. There were no trails or roads in those days, and not a house between Fort Laramie and Cache la Poudre. To fall behind was to die and become food for the wolves. So the column moved slowly amid the snow and keen-cutting blasts.

"That night was a night of horrors. About 4 o'clock in the afternoon they reached a depression in the apparently limitless Plains, the two wagons halted and camp was established to the windward. A few dead willows and weeds peeping above the snow, none of them thicker than a pencil, afforded the only source of fuel. With this cheerless prospect, amid a whistling, drifting storm of snow, Captain Hanna and his men prepared to spend the long, long night. A few of the more cheerful and enterprising troopers gathered weeds and willows, dug away a hole in the snow, sat down, built small fires sheltered by their extending legs, and with oyster cans cooked some coffee. Then the blankets and buffalo robes were spread upon the snow, the saddles were piled to break ofE the wind and darkness came slowly on. As for the horses they seemed to realize the desperate situation and, after hastily eating their corn, shivering with their tails toward the blast, they, one after another, laid down in their snowy beds. As they were well blanketed and the snow swiftly drifted over them, they were soon hidden beneath a snow bank with nothing visible except their heads.

"The men laid in rows of ten or twelve in number, feet to the wind ; the last man out was required to bank up the snow over the bed and then crawl beneath the pile of bedding in the center of the row. He went in feet foremost, of course. That was a long, dreary night. Every half hour or so the command went forth from the sergeant in charge of each row; 'Ready, bo5's! Now s-p-o-o-n!' Then over went the row of soldiers and by this means they turned over in bed without letting in the cold air. Towards daylight the snow commenced to fall again. I was one of the first to rise (having charge of the commissary stores) and I shall never forget that cheerless night. The only sign of life to be seen was the two wagons, half hidden in snow, and the heads of sixty or seventy horses just above the snow. The presence of the soldiers was indicated by the little jets of steaming breath com.ing from beneath their blankets and robes.

"Hard bread and frozen bacon was handed around, the shivering horses were fed and another long day's march commenced toward Colorado. The vitality of man and beast seemed to have been exhausted. The younger soldiers were freezing to death in their saddles. They seemed to be careless and indifferent, and, oh, so sleepy. Captain Hanna and his First Lieutenant, Swearingen, made details of soldiers to compel those who were dying to live awhile longer. The mode of procedure was this: When a soldier was seen to bow his head and indicated his desire to sleep, he was torn from his saddle and then supported by a comrade on each side, was forcibly pushed or run along the trail until animation was restored. As night again approached the half frozen expedition seemed to settle down into a state of lethargic despair. Horses exhausted, men cold, chilled to the bone, no wood, no shelter from the piercing blizzard, mercury down to thirty degrees below zero and no prospect of relief or shelter. Oh, for a fire or a cup of hot coffee. Oh, for even the shelter of a friendly bluff. No; there was nothing ahead but another long, cheerless night in the snow.

"How that night passed will ever seem like a hideous dream in the recollection of the miserable survivors. Chilled, hungry, stiff and sore, the members of the expedition clustered together in the treeless solitude not far from the present site of Cheyenne, Wyoming. The wintry storm showed no abatement and death stared the miserable volunteer soldiers in the face. Many had frozen feet, few were unfrostbitten, all seemed indifferent as to life. The horses seemed lifeless ; many had been abandoned to the mercies of the wolves, the remainder seemed resigned to an apparently inevitable fate. New life and courage were suddenly imparted to the desparing men by an order to unload the two government wagons, stack the stores in the form a windbreak and chop the wagons into firewood.

"By clustering close together and keeping out the wind and snow with bufEalo robes, a fire was secured. Oh, what joy, what hope, what cheer, the light of a fire imparted, that bitter stormy night on the Plains. Then to have hot, strong, fragrant coffee, the first for two days and nights. How it braced the boys up for the long winter night. A dozen at least were crippled and helpless from frozen feet and hands. These were laid side by side and were banked over with snow, after being cheered with the warmth of a cup of coffee. Food was a secondary consideration ; heat was the vital necessity. Two fires were built and about these a circle was formed and robes and blankets spread over the shoulders of the crouching soldiers. Even then this living windbreak was insufficient to prevent the wind sweeping away the fire. Embers and ashes there were none - the storm swept all away. Men sat that night and saw their stockings burn upon their feet without feeling the pain of the fire, so cold were they and so benumbed their frozen limbs. But daylight came at last and with it the sun. Oh, what joy and cheer came up with that orb from beyond the eastern snow banks. It brought to each a hope of life and a possible return sometime to the comforts of civilization.

"More than half the command was found to be frosted and unable to walk. More than half the horses which left Fort Laramie a few days before in good condition were either dead or too weak to carry a rider. An early start was made, a long march was made. To halt meant death to all. Stores, arms and saddles had been stacked in the snow and abandoned. In the light marching order the column pushed on for the Cache la Poudre. The sight of the scattered cottonvi^oods upon that stream was a welcome sight to man and beast. It meant life and comfort. The expedition struck the Poudre valley about ten miles below Fort Collins, and before noon the next day the demoralized column reached the little cluster of cabins called Fort Collins. Never did that beautiful valley appear more glorious and fascinating than it did that bright, keen, sunny morning in January, 1865, when Capt. J. W. Hanna's command made its first advent in Colorado. Most of the frosted men recovered the use of their limbs and performed good and gallant service the next summer with General Connor on his Tongue river expedition."

The Captain J. W. Hanna mentioned in the foregoing narrative of exposure and suffering was a foster brother, of Alderman Thomas L. Moore of Fort Collins, and has often visited the scene of his experiences as a soldier in the Cache la Poudre valley. He was Speaker of the House of Representatives of the Colorado General Assembly in the winter of 1891.

Shortly after Isaac Adair and family settled on Upper Boxelder in 1875, the few scattered settlers of that district became greatly alarmed over a threatened raid by a marauding band of Sioux Indians. The story goes, and it is a true one, that the band of redskins swooped down to capture and run off a bunch of horses owned by a banker in Cheyenne, named Kent, which he had on the range near the settlement. They succeeded in running off a large number of horses. Of course, the settlers were afraid the savages would return and made hasty preparations to give them a warm reception.

Adair secured two rifles and two double barreled shot guns with which to repell the anticipated attack. A few days later, Mr. Adair and his hired man, Jacob McAffee, went to look after a pit of charcoal he had burning about a mile from the family cabin. They took the two rifles with them, leaving the shotguns with Mrs. Adair, charging her to keep them loaded and be on the lookout for Indians. The men had not been gone from the cabin more than two hours, when Mrs. Adair saw a band of horsem.en riding rapidly toward the cabin. They were so far away that she could not make out whether they were Indians or white men, but believing they were Indians she ran into the cabin, barred the doors and windows, hastily loaded the shotguns, siezed a hatchet and was about to knock out some of the chinking between some of the logs to make loop holes through which to shoot, when the horsemen rode up to the cabin. She saw at once they were white men but did not recognize any of them. One of the men, who afterwards proved to be James A. Brown of Fort Collins, seeing that she was terribly excited and about to faint, said to her "What in the name of common sense is the matter witn you?" She replied with a stammering tongue, I-I th-th-thought you were Indians." The party proved to be cowboys on the round-up in charge of Mr. Brown and C. B. Mendenhall of Fort Collins.

When the excitement had somewhat subsided the cowboys examined the shotguns and found about one foot of powder and buckshot jammed into each barrel, which Mrs. Adair, in her fear and haste, thought was the proper charge for Indians. The charges were removed by fastening the butts of the guns against the axle of a wagon, cocking the guns and tying strings to the triggers of sufficient length to enable one to get out of the danger zone, and then by pulling the strings, the guns were discharged without doing much damage. The settlers were never troubled by Indians after that.

If Harmon Mann's memory serves him right, it was about 1866 that the troops were withdrawn from the garrison at Fort Collins. Prior to that time they were maintained there to guard against any outbreak of the Indians of whom there were not a great many abiding in the country. As a rule, they were never contented to remain in one section, generally keeping on the move from one part of the country to another and it was never known when a whole tribe would swoop down upon the settlement from nobody knows where.

After many annoyances from these Indians who did remain in these parts, the aid of the Government was invoked to put a stop to their depredations. Accordingly the Indians were ordered to stay at all times in sight of the garrison at Camp Collins if they chose to remain in the country at all. An open season was declared upon any Indian straying beyond a distance of four miles from the camp, and the whites were allowed to shoot any found outside of that pale on sight, providing the Indian didn't see the white man and pull the trigger first.

Mr. Mann recalls the thrilling experience of a lieutenant who went out one day hunting while this order was in effect. Seeing an Indian out on the bluffs hunting he decided to capture and march him into camp. Approaching the Indian he shoved a pistol in his face and ordered him to surrender. But the Indian was very athletic and quick with a gun. Before the lieutenant realized it, his gun was taken from him and the Indian was marching him to his wigwam. He was not harmed, but for a long time he had to bear the blunt of the joke that was turned so unexpectedly upon him. This same Indian afterwards proved himself a better man physically in many respects than some of the boastful soldiers. An officer who sneeringly remarked that he could outrun any Indian was laughed to scorn by this fleet redskin, who ran the officer a race and performed the feat with a blanket wrapped about him. - Windsor Poudre Valley, February, 1909.

The following interesting sketch of an early day incident appeared in the Loveland Reporter in January, 1887. I do not vouch for the truth of the story, but tell it as it was told in the Reporter, adding however that it bears the ear marks of truth. The man Musgrove was widely known in the early days as the head of a gang of horse thieves who infested the country along in the 60's, and who was hung in Denver in 1868 by a mob, for his misdeeds. As is told elsewhere in this book, Mr. Loomis had much to do with Musgrove's capture and final surrender to the Denver authorities:

"Few people knowing Ab. Loomis of Fort Collins," said the Reporter, "today would at all suspect that in the early days of Colorado, he was noted as a man of great courage and nerve, but such is the fact. Any of the old-timers hereabout remember the time when he was esteemed a bad man to fool with. He was never quarrelsome, nor would he in any way incite a row, but when a tough wanted to bully anybody he invariably passed Ab. Loomis as a man too dangerous for his business. Loomis was taken at a disadvantage at one time however. Everybody had heard of Musgrove, who had a gang of horse-thieves with headquarters in Poudre canon part of the time, and part of the time near St. Cloud. The story of how Musgrove become a horse thief and outlaw as told by his followers is to the effect that he wished to retaliate and get revenge for the way the United States government had used him. He used to own a train of freighting teams and at one time ventured among the Indians on the Laramie Plains. Government officials searched his wagons, and finding whiskey, confiscated the whole train and threw Musgrove into the guardhouse. There he was compelled to perform menial duties, such as cleaning the office quarters, emptying the spittoons and other dirty work. When he escaped from confinement he went into the business of stealing government property, particularly horses and mules, at every opportunity. He and his gang always claimed that they never took anything from private citizens, but the record is not exactly clear on this point. At any rate the gang was looked upon with suspicion by not only government officials but by the settlers as well. To arrest Musgrove and break up his gang if pos- sible, a Deputy United States Marshal came from Denver, and while in search of evidence visited Mr. Loomis' ranch in Pleasant valley, going thence to Laporte where he went into the saloon and billiard hall kept by Ben. Claymore and John B. Provost, and called for a drink. The building that housed the saloon is now owned and occupied by Rowland Herring and family as a residence.

Musgrove's gang were all in the saloon at the time playing billiards, and the walls were lined with shot guns and the chairs covered with pistols, belts, cartridges and other paraphernalia. The appearance of the saloon, its occupants and its equipments satisfied the deputy marshal that his company could be spared, so he quietly withdrew without waiting for his order for a drink to be filled. Mounting his horse the oflficer rode away towards Denver at top speed.

Musgrove, hearing that the deputy m.arshal had visited Loomis, resolved that he, too, wanted to see Mr. Loomis. One morning, just after Mr. Loomis had hitched a fine mule that had cost him $250, to his gate post and was going into the house for breakfast, Musgrove rode up with his shotgun on the pommel of his saddle. Loomis invited him into breakfast, and the visitor raised in his saddle as if to dismount when the gun went off and shot the mule. Musgrove apologized, saying it was an accident and that he would replace the animal with a government mule "that you can sell as easily as this one." At this, he rode ofE at full speed. Mr. Loomis' first impulse was to shoot the scoundrel, but he stopped to examine his mule and when he looked up Musgrove was out of sight. The following year Mr. Loomis got even by laying a trap for Musgrove which resulted in his capture in 1868 and subsequent hanging from Cherry Creek bridge in Denver.

The Fort Collins Courier of December 30, 1886, contained the following reminder of the days when the soldiers were stationed at Camp Collins, more than forty-five years ago:

"The work of demolishing the only remaining relic of the days when the soldiers under Col. W. O. .Collins were the only inhabitants of this city, was begun this morning. The old log building standing on the alley back of the Tedmon house, the last one left of the half dozen or more erected by the soldiers of 1864 for winter quarters, is about to disappear. And with it disappears every vestige and sign of what was known as Camp Collins, except a lingering memory existing with a few oldtimers. In August, 1864, Col. Collins of the 11th Ohio volunteer cavalry, Commander of the District of the Platte, with headquarters at Fort Laramie, came to the Cache la Poudre valley in search of a location for a military post, and being pleased with the situation, established here a post thenceforward known from his name as Fort Collins. From that time until its abandonment for this use, from two to six companies of infantry and cavalry were stationed here to curb the Indians and protect the Overland stages, the scanty settlements and the emigrants continually passing this way.

"A military reservation, upon which Fort Collins now stands, was surveyed and set apart by the government in 1864. Necessary buildings were put up for the accommodation of the officers and soldiers, and the nucleus of a settlement was thus formed. The building that Mr. James A. Brown is tearing down was one of these, and was occupied as officers' quarters. It is a one-story log building and stands facing Long's Peak. On the north end, close up under the gable, a rude balcony was constructed, containing just about space enough for one person. This used to be Col. Collins' favorite seat. It commanded a good view of the river, the valley and the bluffs beyond. On the departure of the soldiers in June, 1866, W. D. Hayes, now of Hastings, Mich., became the owner of the house and lot on which it stands. Mr. Hayes is well and kindly remembered by all the old-timers, all of whom were his warm friends. Mrs. Hayes is a sister of Mrs. A. J. Ames, with whom she spent several weeks in 1885. Mr. Hayes sold the property in 1868 to James A. Brown, who still owns it. In this old house Mr. and Mrs. Brown first set up housekeeping, and here is where their first child was born. At that time Mr. Brown was interested with his brother, John R. Brown, in a blacksmith shop, which stood on the corner of Jefferson and Pine streets, across the street east of the old Grout livery stable."

It was in this house that Agnes Mason (now Mrs. E. C. Gildings), the first white child born in Fort Collins, first saw the light of day, on the 31st of October, 1867; and in this house, on the 3Gth of December, 1866, was solemnized the marriage of Mr. Harris Stratton and Mrs. Elizazeth Keays, their's being the first wedding celebrated in Fort Collins. A good many tender memories cling to that old house of days that are gone never to return, and of joys that are passed."

In the early days the crime of horse stealing was considered almost, if not quite equal, in enormity to that of murder, and it is stated as a fact that more men suffered death for horse stealing than were executed for taking human life. A short shrift was given the horse thief when apprehended and the evidence of his guilt were deemed sufficient by Judge Lynch to justify death by hanging. Possession of stolen horses or mules was usually considered good enough grounds for inflicting the death penalty and the execution promptly followed. Judge Lynch was inflexible in his rulings and there was no appeal when he pronounced sentence. While it is true that a number of men were put to death in the early days for this offense, it is not recorded and not believed that any innocent persons suffered the death penalty at the hands of an outraged, law-abiding community. In most cases the accused was given a hearing before a self- constituted tribunal of citizens and an opportunity to clear himself of the charge, but it oftentimes happened that the horse thief was caught red-handed and launched before his Maker from the limb of the nearest Cottonwood tree or the cross-bar of a telegraph pole. While lynch law in a civilized community cannot be justified by any rule of right or reason, there seems to be no other satisfactory way for an unorganized community, without courts or officers of the law, to protect itself against the depredations of outlaws, brigands and desperadoes. It may, therefore, be said, with a semblance of justice, that the early settlers of Colorado were morally, at least, justified in resorting to extreme measures in defending themselves and their property from molestations by marauders and in appealing to lynch law as a means of ridding the country of undesirable characters. Provisions and supplies for the early settlers had to be carried in wagons a distance of six hundred miles, and if their teams were stolen en route or driven from ranches by thieves, they were placed at great disadvantage and often made to suffer the pangs of hunger or death from starvation. Hence a horse thief was looked upon as being but little if any better than a murderer.

In the summer of 1868 a gang of robbers and horse thieves established a camp at Bonnar Springs, an almost inaccessible natural rock fortress, situated in the hills a short distance west of Owl canon on the road to Livermore. From their headquarters at this point the gang operated in Southern Wyoming and Northern Colorado, stealing and running off horses and cattle. Government property suffering the most from their depredations. There was great temptation in those days to steal government horses and mules as these animals could be readily sold at remunerative prices. A pair of mules brought from $350 to $700 and no questions asked. Musgrove and his gang gave the army officers much annoyance and finally a reward was offered for his apprehension. Much of the stealing and running off of stock that was laid to the Indians that year was really done by Musgrove and his gang of outlaws. During the month of September, 1864, the beef herd at Fort Fred Steele, numbering fifty head, was run off in the night and while an effort was made to recapture them, not a hoof was discovered. During the month of October all the cavalry horses belonging to the cavalry company at the fort were supposed to have been taken by Musgrove's gang. It was strongly suspected at the time that the soldiers on guard were connected with the affair, as they had disappeared with the horses and there was no evidence that they had been killed. As soon as the loss was discovered, mounted men were sent in pursuit of the thieves, but they came back empty handed. A number of other raids were made soon after and in each case small bunches of horses and mules were taken. The quartermasters' office at the fort was in a tent and was supplied with a safe. Thieves cut open the tent one night with a knife and removed the safe, carrying it to a gulch some distance away where it was blown open and the money it contained, $1,800, secured by the thieves. The stealing of the safe could not, of course, be charged to the Indians and an effort was then made to break up the organized gang of outlaws that infested the country. Musgrove, who was believed to be the leader of the brigands, came in for a full share of attention. At last, through the efforts of the late Abner Loomis of Fort Collins, Musgrove was apprehended. Mr. Loomis had known Musgrove several years and had sold him vegetables from his farm in Pleasant valley and had told the outlaw that if he ever stole a horse or mule belonging to a settler in the Cache la Poudre valley the ranchmen would organize, hunt him down and hang him. This admonition had the desired effect, for, so far as is known, not a ranchman in the valley ever had an animal stolen by. the gang. Knowing that a price had been set on Musgrove's head and that the whole country was anxious to get rid of him, Mr. Loomis decided to effect his capture, which he did by resorting to stratagem. In the latter part of October, 1868, he started for Musgrove's rendezvous on horseback, unarmed and unattended. On approaching the the camp, Musgrove, gun in hand, halted him and asked if he was armed. Mr. Loomis replied he was not, but had come on a peaceful mission. Being assured that his visitor was unarmed, Musgrove allowed him to enter the camp. Mr. Loomis then told Musgrove where he could find a valuable horse, which had strayed from the outlaw's band a few days before. The animal, he said, was in a neighbor's field and that Musgrove could get the horse by going after him. Being lulled into security by the belief that a man who would take so much pains to do him a favor must be a friend, Musgrove accompanied Mr. Loomis to the valley to get his horse. They stopped at Mr. Loomis' house for supper, and while they were eating. Officer Haskell from Denver, entered the house with gun in hand and ordered the brigand to throw up his hands, which order was promptly obeyed. Haskell had been told to conceal himself near the house and be ready to make the capture while supper was being served. He ironed his prisoner, took him to Denver and lodged him in the Larimer street prison. Musgrove arrived in Denver at rather an unfortunate time for himself, as the people of that city had lately been devoting their attention to the cleaning out of outlaw gangs. Sam Dungan, another outlaw, who had been driven out of Cheyenne and Laramie City by threats of lynching, had just held up and robbed an old man named Orson Brooks of about $125, and had been hanged by the citizens. The day after the execution of Dungan, a vigilance committee formed on Blake street in the afternoon and in an orderly procession marched to the prison and demanded the person of Musgrove. When the door opened to admit the leader, the prisoner suspecting their purpose seized a billet of wood and stood at bay, defying them to take him. Revolvers were drawn and several shots fired at him, but owing to the excitement, none took effect. After a short but sharp struggle, Musgrove was overpowered and taken to the Larimer street bridge over Cherry creek, where preparations had been made for the lynching. Realizing his doom, he resolved to meet it bravely. His request to be permitted to write a hasty note to a friend was granted. The message, written with a pencil on the railing, was soon finished, when he was put into a wagon and driven into the bed of the creek under the bridge, from one of the floor timbers of which dangled a rope. Here he was bound, hands and feet and the noose adjusted about his neck, when the order was given to drive the wagon from under him. To make death certain and immediate, Musgrove sprang into the air and when he fell his neck was broken, his death being comparatively painless.

"Musgrove was an outlaw who had made society his prey for several years, successively defying by boldness, when he could not outwit by cunning, the officers of justice. He was driven as a bandit from California, Nevada and Utah and first appeared in Colorado in the role of a murderer at Fort Halleck in 1863. For this he was arrested and sent to Denver, where he was discharged by the United States Commissioner for want of jurisdiction. Taking up his residence on Clear Creek at Baker's bridge, he soon became the recognized chief of a band of land pirates, who lived by running off government stock, effacing the brand and then disposing of it.

"The charge which exasperated the people was that of his having been the leader of one of the bands of Indians which ravaged our settlement last fall. As he was taken from the jail he said, 'I suppose you are going to hang me because I've been an Indian chief. Deprecate the course as we will the fact remains, that the people resorted to violence because the criminal laws did not afford the protection which the people had a right to demand of them."

Hall's history of Colorado, closed an extended comment on the violent death of Musgrove in the following terms: "In the early times as they are called, the people endured many atrocities with reasonable patience, but when some especially heinous assault was made upon their rights, their wrath exceeded all bounds and instantly rendered a judgment from which there was neither escape nor appeal."

I am indebted for some of the facts stated in Musgrove's career to Halls' History of Colorado and to Coutant's History of Wyoming. The account of the manner of Musgrove's arrest was given me by Mr. Loomis a good many years ago.

Robert J. Spotswood, who died at his home in Littleton, Colorado, in June, 1910, was express messenger and later Division Superintendent on the Old Overland Stage line, and personally knew many of the famous characters who added the spice

"Mr. Spotswood succeeded the notorious Joseph A. Slade, the man-killer who was described so picturesquely by Mark Twain, as superintendent of the Julesburg division of the Overland stage line. It was on this division that Slade made his reputation as a man-killer. He was put in charge of the division at a time when the depredations of Indians and outlaws along the division made travel a matter of peril. The company realized that somebody would have to be put in charge who could take hold with a firm hand, and Slade proved to be the man for the post. He killed right and left, and soon the Indians and outlaws learned to give his division a wide berth.

"In justice to Slade it should be said that he was a perfect gentleman except when under the control of liquor," said Mr. Spotswood a short time ago. "He was a quiet-spoken and most agreeable man when sober, hut was a fiend incarnate when drunk. He worked faithfully and well for the company and he soon had the reputation of bringing his stages through on time. Eventually, however, liquor began getting the upper hand of him, and the officials of the company realized that they would have to let him out, as his outbreaks were beginning to create a good deal of complaint.

"When I received the appointment as superintendent of the division to succeed Slade, my friends in Denver bade me good-bye almost tearfully. It was predicted that I would never return to Denver alive. 'Slade will kill you rather than yield his post,' I was told, but I answered that the killing would have to take place as there was nothing for me to do but go ahead and obey the company's orders.

"The division headquarters at that time was Virginia Dale, about 100 miles northwest of Denver. Slade made that place his headquarters when the Overland route was moved south to include Denver. It was a beautiful and romantic spot on Dale creek, and Slade had named it for his wife, a handsome and charming woman. When I arrived at Virginia Dale and told my mission, there was no wild outbreak on Slade's part. He bowed to the will of the company without a word, and he and his wife did everything in their power to make my stay agreeable during the next two or three days. Slade made an accounting and turned over everything in good shape. His own stock he separated from that belonging to the company. He had many horses and mules and wagons, and took them to Montana, as the Virginia City boom was on, and he told me he intended to return to his old business as a freighter.

"It so happened that a year later I was transferred to Virginia City, where Slade had been freighting. He had made a great deal of money and had a fine ranch near Virginia City, but his old habits were too strong for him. He had killed several persons during his wild outbreaks, and, after several warnings had proved unavailing, the vigilantes took him out and hanged him in 1864."