Daily Routine

The letter and newspaper fever has seized on every one.  We have sent at last to Longmount.  This evening I rode out on the Longmount trail towards dusk, escorted by “Mountain Jim,” and in the distance we saw a wagon with four horses and a saddle-horse behind, and the driver waved a handkerchief, the concerted signal if I were the possessor of a horse.  We turned back, galloping down the long hill as fast as two good horses could carry us, and gave the joyful news.  It was an hour before the wagon arrived, bringing not Evans but two “campers” of suspicious aspect, who have pitched their camp close to my cabin!  You cannot imagine what it is to be locked in by these mountain walls, and not to know where your letters are lying.  Later on, Mr. Buchan, one of our usual inmates, returned from Denver with papers, letters for every one but me, and much exciting news.  The financial panic has spread out West, gathering strength on its way.  The Denver banks have all suspended business.  They refuse to cash their own checks, or to allow their customers to draw a dollar, and would not even give greenbacks for my English gold!  Neither Mr. Buchan nor Evans could get a cent.  Business is suspended, and everybody, however rich, is for the time being poor.  The Indians have taken to the “war path,” and are burning ranches and killing cattle.  There is a regular “scare” among the settlers, and wagon loads of fugitives are arriving in Colorado Springs.  The Indians say, “The white man has killed the buffalo and left them to rot on the plains.  We will be revenged.” Evans had reached Longmount, and will be here tonight.

I.L B.