After crossing the Smoky Hill River, I felt comparatively safe as this was the last stream I had to cross.
My wife was delighted with the home I had given her amid the prairies of the far west.
I began to think that my time had come, as the saying is.
As a good horse is not very apt to jump over a bank, if left to guide himself, I let mine pick his own way.
But the love of adventure was in father's blood.
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.