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Show 184 TALES OF THE COLORADO PIONEERS. order of human beings he belongs. His hair and beard are grizzly gray, and he chews continually. When he • tells a border tale his little keen eyes twinkle with humor and intelligence, then he goes into convulsions of laughter and kicks up his feet until he resembles a jack-knife half open-forming a picture altogether grotesque. But he is the soul of honor and goodness, with a heart so much larger than his body that it is continually running over with kind deeds and comforting words. " His wife, who died recently, was called the mother of the camp, the good Samaritan to all in trouble and distress. How the boys loved her! She always spent her winters in Denver, and in the spring, when we heard Mrs. Silverthorn was coming, we put on our snow-shoes, met her at the top* of the range and brought her down on a sled. That was fun, let me tell you. With loud hurrahs, and hats tossing wildly in the air, we heralded her arrival. " Silverthorn has looked just as he does now for the last twenty-five years. It is said that when he was on the way to this country he stopped at some town on the Missouri river and looked around for a party who were en route to the Blue, but they shook their heads deprecatingly and said they did not want any graveyard deserters; wouldn't have time for funeral services on the road. " He at last succeeded in closing a bargain with one party, and the first night out, when they had gone into camp, and the old gentleman was reconnoitering for buffalo chips, there arose a discussion among the campers about 'that old man;' they thought he was likely to die on the way, and they decided then and there to eject him. When he returned they informed him of their decision. |
