Excitement was plentiful during my two years' service as a Pony Express rider.

But the love of adventure was in father's blood.

After crossing the Smoky Hill River, I felt comparatively safe as this was the last stream I had to cross.

I felt only as a man can feel who is roaming over the prairies of the far West, well armed, and mounted on a fleet and gallant steed.

It was my effort, in depicting the West, to depict it as it was.

We got more provisions for our whiskey than the same money, which we paid for the liquor, would have bought; so after all it proved a very profitable investment.

I could never resist the call of the trail.