James Nugent

There were chasms of immense depth, dark with the indigo gloom of pines, and mountains with snow gleaming on their splintered crests, loveliness to bewilder, and grandeur to awe, and still streams, and shady pools, and cool depths of shadow, mountains again, dense with pines, among which patches of aspen gleamed like gold.

valleys where the yellow cottonwood mingled with the crimson oak and so on and on through the lengthening shadows till the trail which in places had been hardly legible became well defined and we entered a long gulch with broad swellings of grass belted with pines a very pretty mare hobbled was feeding a collie dog barked at us and among the scrub not far from the track there was a rude black-lod cabin as rough as it could be to be a shelter at all with smoke coming out of the roof and window we diverged towards it it mattered not that it was the home or rather den of a notorious ruffian and desperado one of my companions had disappeared hours before the remaining one was a town-bred youth i longed to speak to some one who loved the mountains i called the hut a den it looked like the den of a wild beast the big dog lay outside it in a threatening attitude and growled the mud roof was covered with lynx beaver and other furs laid out to dry beaver paws were pinned out on the logs a part of the carcass of a deer hung at one end of the cabin a skinned beaver lay in front of a heap of peltry just within the door and antlers of deer old horseshoes and offal of many animals lay about the den roused by the growling of the dog his owner came out a broad thick-set man about the middle height with an old cap on his head and wearing a gray hunting suit much the worse for wear almost falling to pieces in fact a digger's scarf knotted round his waist a knife in his belt and a bosom friend a revolver sticking out of the breast pocket of his coat his feet which were very small were bare except for some dilapidated moccasins made of horsehide the marvel was how his clothes hung together and on him the scarf round his waist must have had something to do with it his face was remarkable he is a man about forty-five and must have been strikingly handsome he has large gray-blue eyes deeply set with well-marked eyebrows a handsome aquiline nose and a very handsome mouth his face was smooth-shaven except for a dense mustache and imperial tawny hair in thin uncared-for curls fell from under his hunter's cap and over his collar one eye was entirely gone and the loss made one side of the face repulsive while the other might have been modeled in marble desperado was written in large letters all over him i almost repented of having sought his acquaintance his first impulse was to swear at the dog but on seeing a lady he contented himself with kicking him and coming to me he raised his cap showing as he did so a magnificently formed brow and head and in a cultured tone of voice asked if there were anything he could do for me i asked for some water and he brought some in a battered tin gracefully apologizing for not having anything more presentable we entered into conversation and as he spoke i forgot both his reputation and appearance for his manner was that of a chivalrous gentleman his accent refined and his language easy and elegant i inquired about some beaver's paws which were drying and in a moment they hung on the horn of my saddle a propice of the wild animals of the region he told me that the loss of his eye was owing to a recent encounter with a grizzly bear which after giving him a death hug tearing him all over breaking his arm and scratching out his eye had left him for dead as we rode away for the sun was sinking he said courteously you are not an american i know from your voice that you are a countrywoman of mine i hope you will allow me the pleasure of calling on you beginning of footnote of this unhappy man who was shot nine months later within two miles of his cabin i write in the subsequent letters only as he appeared to me his life without a doubt was deeply stained with crimes and vices and his reputation for ruffianism was a deserved one but in my intercourse with him i saw more of his nobler instincts than of the darker parts of his character which unfortunately for himself and others showed itself in its worst colors at the time of his tragic end it was not until after i left colorado not indeed until after his death that i heard of the worst points of his character end of footnote this man known through the territories and beyond them as rocky mountain jim or more briefly as mountain jim is one of the famous scouts of the plains and is the original of some daring portraits and fiction concerning indian frontier warfare so far as i have at present heard he is a man for whom there is now no room for the time for blows and blood in this part of colorado is past and the fame of many daring exploits is sullied by crimes which are not easily forgiven here he now has a squatter's claim but makes his living as a trapper and is the complete child of the mountains of his genius and chivalry to women there does not appear to be any doubt but he is a desperate character and is subject to ugly fits when people think it best to avoid him it is here regarded as an evil that he has located himself at the mouth of the only entrance to the park for he is dangerous with his pistols and it would be safer if he were not here his besetting sin is indicated in the verdict pronounced on him by my host when he's sober jim's a perfect gentleman but when he's had liquor he's the most awful ruffian in colorado From the ridge on which this gulch terminates, at a height of nine thousand feet, we saw at last Estes Park, lying fifteen hundred feet below in the glory of the setting sun.

An irregular basin, lighted up by the bright waters of the rushing Thompson, guarded by sentinel mountains of fantastic shape and monstrous size, with Long's Peak rising above them all in unapproachable grandeur, while the snowy range, with its outlying spurs heavily timbered, come down upon the park slashed by stupendous canyons lying deep in purple gloom.

The rushing river was blood red.

Picturesquely dotted about near it, two corrals, a long shed in front of which a steer was being killed, a log dairy with a water wheel, some hay piles, and various evidences of comfort, and two men on serviceable horses were just bringing in some tolerable cows to be milked.

A short, pleasant-looking man ran up to me and shook hands gleefully, which surprised me.

But he has since told me that in the evening light he thought I was Mountain Jim dressed up as a woman.

I recognized in him a countryman, and he introduced himself as Griffith Evans, a Welshman from the slate quarries near Llanberis.

End of footnote.

This man, known through the territories and beyond them as Rocky Mountain Jim, or more briefly as Mountain Jim, is one of the famous scouts of the plains, and is the original of some daring portraits and fiction concerning Indian frontier warfare.

So far as I have at present heard, he is a man for whom there is now no room, for the time for blows and blood in this part of Colorado is past, and the fame of many daring exploits is sullied by crimes which are not easily forgiven here.

He now has a squatter's claim, but makes his living as a trapper, and is the complete child of the mountains.

But I was hungry, and the air was frosty, and I was wondering what the prospects of food and shelter were in this enchanted region, when we came suddenly upon a small lake, close to which was a very trim-looking log cabin with a flat mud roof with four smaller ones.

Picturesquely dotted about near it, two corrals, a long shed in front of which a steer was being killed, a log dairy with a water wheel, some hay piles, and various evidences of comfort, and two men on serviceable horses were just bringing in some tolerable cows to be milked.

A short, pleasant-looking man ran up to me and shook hands gleefully, which surprised me, but he has since told me that in the evening light he thought I was Mountain Jim dressed up as a woman.

I recognized in him a countryman, and he introduced himself as Griffith Evans, a Welshman from the slate quarries near Llanberis.

End of footnote.

This man, known through the territories and beyond them as Rocky Mountain Jim, or more briefly as Mountain Jim, is one of the famous scouts of the plains, and is the original of some daring portraits and fiction concerning Indian frontier warfare.

So far as I have at present heard, he is a man for whom there is now no room, for the time for blows and blood in this part of Colorado is past, and the fame of many daring exploits is sullied by crimes which are not easily forgiven here.

He now has a squatter's claim, but makes his living as a trapper, and is a complete child of the mountains.

And two men on serviceable horses were just bringing in some tolerable cows to be milked.

A short, pleasant-looking man ran up to me and shook hands gleefully, which surprised me.

But he has since told me that in the evening light, he thought I was Mountain Jim dressed up as a woman.

I recognized in him a countryman, and he introduced himself as Griffith Evans, a Welshman from the slate quarries near Lanberis.