As winter was approaching and the days were now becoming considerably shorter, it was incumbent upon me to hasten my departure from Omaha, if I would reach my destination as contemplated at the outset. Having learned from frontiersmen that Eastern horses are not available in the Alkali Region of the Plains, I placed my faithful Paul in a boarding stable in Omaha, purchased a mustang of a Pawnee Indian and forthwith continued my journey westward.

Webster defines a mustang as the "Wild Horse of the Prairie." My experience with him has taught me that he is sufficiently docile under the restraint of a tight rein; will travel a longer distance over a rough road in a given time than the average horse, and scarcely ever shows fatigue even if the road is all up-hill. Of course, some of them are vicious, and will make things uncomfortable for the rider; but in this particular some civilized horses are not unlike them. I found the Mexican saddle more convenient than the "McClellan" which I had hitherto used, and thought much easier for the animal.

My mustang proved tractable and made excellent time; and having obtained in Omaha all the information within my reach concerning the remaining half of my journey, I determined to use all despatch and avoid as far as I could the cold weather of the Rockies and Sierras.

I may here state that in consequence of the long rides I was now compelled to make, with very few stoppages except at night, the original plan of the journey was somewhat changed, and my journal necessarily fell into disuse; my chief object being to get over the mountains as quickly as possible. I was, therefore, unable during the remainder of my ride to refer so much to daily incidents, but confined myself to jotting down in a general way whatever I thought might prove of interest to the reader.

Over the Great Plains that lie between the Missouri and the Rockies my nerve was thoroughly tested, and not less so the mettle of my mustang which carried me a distance of five hundred and twenty-two miles in six days. Halts at this time were few and far between, except for necessary food and sleep. The weather had become very cold since leaving Omaha, and the ascent had been gradual but continuous.

The surface of Nebraska is extremely varied. There are no elevations that can be dignified with the name of mountains, but in its northern and western parts there are lofty hills. Along the Niobrara and White Rivers, extending into Dakota, there are sand-hills with a very scanty vegetation and very difficult to traverse on account of the loose sand. The gently rolling lands of three-fourths of Nebraska appear very much like the suddenly petrified waves and billows of the ocean. Minerals had not yet been found to any considerable extent, and the scarcity of coal rendered more valuable the extensive beds of peat found in some parts of the State. The salt basins of Nebraska are rich and extensive. The principal one is located in Lancaster County, covering an area of twelve by twenty-five miles. Fossil remains, of great interest to geologists, have been discovered in great quantities. Indian hieroglyphics, which ante-date the traditions of all living tribes, are cut deep in the bluffs along the Missouri River, in places now inaccessible.

The Platte or Nebraska River, from which the Territory received its name, is a broad and shallow stream. It is claimed that there is not a foot of land in Eastern Nebraska that is not susceptible of cultivation. High winds sweep over the plains, and the storms are sometimes of terrible severity. The climate is dry and exhilarating, and the nights generally cool throughout the summer. There is no part of the United States better adapted for stock-raising than the prairies of Nebraska.

There is a well-equipped university at Lincoln, a normal school for the training of teachers and an institution for the blind at Nebraska City.

After a fifty miles' ride from Omaha a halt was made at the Sherman House, Fremont, Dodge County, for supper and lodging. The journey had been pleasant and the landscape charming in its quiet beauty. The south wind was neither too warm nor too cold for perfect comfort, and my mustang looked as if he could carry me another fifty miles without any inconvenience to himself.

Fremont had a population of nearly 3,000, and has a large trade in grain, cotton and lumber. It has a court house, a high school, three banks and four newspapers.

Left early the following morning and at night slept in a wigwam with Pawnee Indians, in the absence of other shelter, and they gave me of their best. At Lone Tree, a post office in Nance County, I stopped at the Lone Tree House for the night, and next morning at dawn, the weather being very fine, hurried forward on my journey. Reached Grand Island, where I was accommodated at a private house with bed and board.

Grand Island is in the Great Platte Valley on Platte River, one hundred and fifty-four miles west of Omaha. It stands 1,800 feet above sea level. The Island, on which the town is built, is fifty miles long.

Wood River, my next resting-place, is a township in Hall County with a population not exceeding one thousand. On the following day good headway was made, but I could find no better accommodation for the night than at a Pawnee camp. On the succeeding night, after a hard day's ride, I stopped at Plum Creek, two hundred and thirty miles west of Omaha, and was accommodated at the Plum Creek House. A bridge spans the Platte River at this point. The population was only three hundred, but a weekly paper had been started and was well supported. The next evening, the McPherson House, McPherson, received me and my mustang and treated us hospitably. Then followed North Platte, one hundred and thirty-seven miles from Grand Island, where I lodged for the night at a private house, the home of a pioneer. The repair shops of the Union Pacific Railroad were located here; also a bank and two enterprising newspapers. The population of the township was nearly three thousand. At Sidney, which is a military post, I stopped at the Railroad Hotel. Sheep-farming is a leading industry of Sidney and its vicinity. My last stopping-place in Nebraska was at Evans Ranche, Antelope, a small village on the Elk Horn River.

Crossing the boundary into Wyoming Territory and reaching Cheyenne, I made my entrance into this most interesting region—a great plateau of nearly 100,000 square miles, its lowest level 3,543 feet, its highest altitude more than 13,000 feet above the sea. Some one has said that it seems "a highway, laid out by the 'Great Intelligence,' in the latitude most favorable, at all seasons, for great migrations to the shores of the Pacific."

Shales bearing petroleum, iron, limestone, soda, sulphur, mica, copper, lead, silver and gold, are all there for the taking.

There, volcanoes are still at work.

There, great mountains, great canyons, and great cataracts make the face of Nature sublime.

There, in past centuries, "at some period anterior to the history of existing aboriginal races," lived a mysterious, to us unknown people, traces of whom we still find in neatly finished stratite vessels, "knives, scrapers, and sinkers for fish lines made of volcanic sandstone or of green-veined marble. Such is the tract of territory called Wyoming."

Beginning at the southeast corner of this tract, we encounter, not far from the boundary, a semi-circular range, about 2,000 feet above the general level, known as Laramie Hills. The north branch of the Platte, coming from the south, sweeps in a long curve about it; and just at the base of this Laramie range nestles the so-called "Magic City," Cheyenne, the capital of Wyoming.

White men first explored this region in 1743, and in 1744, when Sieur de la Verendrye and his sons came down from Canada, lured by the then unexplored Rocky Mountains. But the region was fearfully wild. Not only was the face of Nature most strange, but the whole tract was overrun by belligerent savages.

In 1804 a few brave white men began hunting beaver there. But it was many long years before civilization took possession of the spot. Not indeed until mining was begun on the summit of the Rocky Mountains in Dakota.

Then the fact of railroad construction brought great crowds to the North Platte country, crowds composed of two diametrically opposed elements, namely workers and loafers. These two elements joined hands for once, strange as it may seem, and together they settled Cheyenne. They located it near several military posts, and just as close to Denver as they could get it, and still keep it in Wyoming. At Denver was a bank. They wanted to be near that institution, and so came within one hundred and six miles of it. Such were a settler's ideas of propinquity!

Several items contributed to making this young settlement a success. The most important of these items was that, in 1867, the Union Pacific Railroad Company began to locate its shops there. That was rarely fine bait for mechanics. The coal and iron mines in the suburbs proved good bait for miners.

So, from these humble beginnings, Cheyenne came into existence, awoke, bestirred herself, became fired with ambition, and made the summer of 1867 one never to be forgotten in her boundaries.

On July first of that year, the agent of the Union Pacific Railroad erected in Cheyenne the first structure belonging to that company.

In August, the city government was formed, H. M. Hook being chosen mayor.

On September nineteenth, the first issue of the Cheyenne Evening Leader was published.

September twenty-seventh, a meeting was held for the purpose of organizing a county to be called Laramie.

On October eighth, an election was held to vote for a representative to Congress, to elect county officers, and to locate the county-seat. It was decided that every citizen of the United States, who had been in the territory ten days, might vote. One thousand nine hundred votes were cast, and Cheyenne was declared the county-seat.

On October twenty-fifth, telegraphic communication with the East was opened.

November thirteenth, the first passenger train came through from Omaha, and one month later the track was laid to Fort Russell.

About July first of that year, a Mr. Post bought two lots in Cheyenne for six hundred dollars. He then went to Denver on business, stopped to stake out his claim in a coal mine, and returned to find that city real estate had become so inflated in his absence that he was enabled to sell a fractional part of his six hundred dollar lots for five thousand six hundred dollars.

About July first, the Union Pacific Railroad sold lots for one hundred and fifty dollars per lot. A month later, they were worth one thousand dollars apiece, increasing in price at the rate of one thousand dollars per lot each month for some time after.

On July 1, 1867, Cheyenne was simply a little corner of the wilderness.

On January 1, 1868, it was a city of six thousand inhabitants.

Was it not indeed a "Magic City," which could furnish a six months' record like the above?

However, this was but the Quatre Bras before the Waterloo.

Cheyenne's real struggle for life, for advancement, for culture and permanent prosperity, was to begin with this new year of 1868. We know how grandly the young city conquered, not by "magic" this time, but better still, by patience, pluck, and indomitable will. But to her honest and law-abiding citizens, at the outset of 1868, things looked dark indeed.

Cheyenne was the terminus of the Union Pacific Railroad that winter, and the scum of the floating Western population drifted thither.

Houses were insufficient, and many wintered in tents and dugouts.

To make things worse, great numbers of squatters came, and began seizing town lots.

"Shootings were frequent, and every manner of vice abounded. A canvas saloon would answer as well as another for gambling, drinking, and the purposes of the dives. Various men and women made the place intolerable. It was never disputed that this town exceeded in vice and unwholesome excitement any of the new cities of the West." The police were overwhelmed. Crime, theft, and assault were rampant. Patience ceased to be a virtue.

The commander at Fort Russell was appealed to, and a battalion was sent by him to escort the squatters beyond the city limits.

After that, the good people of Cheyenne took matters into their own hands, deciding to

A vigilance committee, that dernier resort of the order-loving Westerner of that period, was formed.

On January 11, 1868, this committee arrested three men for robbery. The criminals were bound together and placarded with the following notice:

"$900 stole. $500 returned! Thieves F. St. Clair, W. Grier, E. D. Brownell! City authorities please not interfere until ten o'clock A.M. Next case goes up a tree! Beware of Vigilance Committee!"

Comparatively gentle measures, like the above, were useless. Authority in that wild land had to be made of "sterner stuff." Not until the vigilants had hung and shot a dozen men did comparative order prevail. There was many a dark day for the well-wishers of Cheyenne; yet they lost

and gradually peace came out of strife, order out of confusion, and civilization reigned supreme.

In 1869, Cheyenne became the great entrÉe port of the vast regions north and west.

On September seventh of that year the first term of court was held in the city.

In that same month of September, an election for members of the first Territorial Legislature took place.

That Legislature held a sixty days' session. Some of its dicta were as follows:

Gambling was allowed.

Taxes were placed upon all property, real or personal, excepting only United-States and public property; and in cases of individuals, exempting clothing and furniture, amounting to one hundred dollars.

Jails were to be placed in every county.

And, "last but not least," Cheyenne was declared the seat of the territorial government, and an appropriation was asked for with which to build a capitol.

Surroundings change rapidly in the rush of a new community, and 1870 saw Cheyenne established, strengthened, purified, settled.

The floating riff-raff had passed away, leaving a solid, intelligent population of sixteen hundred.

The city had at that time one public school and two private ones; the latter containing about sixty pupils. It had five well built and well furnished churches. The orders of Masons, Knights Templar, Odd Fellows, and Good Templars were all represented in Cheyenne at that time. The city had two large banks, three tobacconists, three hardware houses, two shoe stores, one confectionery, two bakeries, one livery stable, two first-class hotels, many common ones, a daily newspaper, two weeklies, a well organized fire department, and "an acqueduct, nearly completed, for bringing water from a source seven miles away into the city."

Cheyenne was now well governed, orderly, at peace, and only three years old.

She has not stood still—the brave little "Magic City!"

She keeps on growing, becoming more beautiful, more prosperous. The best we can wish for her is that her future may prove as phenomenal and brilliant as her past has been.