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Show 218 WESTERN WILDS. two hundred ! He is five feet four inches high, and four feet two inches around the waist, and has a voice like a fog- horn All day we rolled along, the four horses at- a sweeping trot, over the finest natural roads and through a succession of sublime scenery that made us forget fatigue. For a mile in one place we drove through a dog- town, the little creatures scampering in all direc-tions but a few rods from the coach. The road runs just far enough from the base of the mountains to secure a level track ; to our right were the red hills rising to blue mountains, and above them the ever-snow- clad peaks ; to our left the gently rolling plain fading away till its pale green surface met the blue horizon. Most of the day the Spanish Peaks seemed just above us, westward; in front was Fisher's Peak, of the Raton Mountains, glistening white with snow. For hours the last named looks as if it were about five or ten miles away. It is fifteen miles on an air line as determined by the U. S. Engineers from the hotel in Trinidad, at the base of the mountains. We reach that place, the last town in Colorado, at 4 P. M., rest an hour, take supper, and change to a small, stout uncomfortable coach, in which to make the passage of the Raton. We reach the summit just at dark, and have a fearful run down the southern side. Fortu-nately we can not see the danger, if there is any ; and have nothing to do but bounce about in the dark inside the coach, butt each other's heads, shift ballast to suit the pitching, and enjoy ourselves generally. About midnight the jolting ceases, and the gentler motion indicates that we have come out into a smooth valley, and on to a good natural road. We compose ourselves, hang to the straps and get two or three hours tolerable sleep. Shortly before daylight we are roused by the driver, with notice that an important bridge has been washed away, leaving only a foot- log, on which the passengers must cross while the coach makes a circuit of same miles. Our party of four were soon on the banks of the stream, and, by the light of a lamp, saw a fearful gorge, crossed by one narrow log, while fifteen feet below ran a stream strong enough to wash us out of sight in a moment. In vain the ladies were urged to try the passage ; lacking confidence, a fall would have been certain. While we stood shivering on the brink, like a group of sinners ready to cross the River Styx, I noticed that the banks were not too steep for descent, and so climbed down by the aid of rocks and bushes, to the water's edge. The other male passenger soon followed, and we found enough of the ruins to construct a half- floating bridge. An hour's labor, with the driver kneeling on the log above to light us to |