Last of the Great Scouts HTML version
The "Wild West" At The World's Fair
EUROPEAN army officers of all nationalities regarded my brother with admiring
interest. To German, French, Italian, or British eyes he was a commanding personality,
and also the representative of a peculiar and interesting phase of New World life.
Recalling their interest in his scenes from his native land, so unlike anything to be found
in Europe to-day, Will invited a number of these officers to accompany him on an
extended hunting-trip through Western America.
All that could possibly do so accepted the invitation. A date was set for them to reach
Chicago, and from there arrangements were made for a special train to convey them to
When the party gathered, several prominent Americans were of the number. By General
Miles's order a military escort attended them from Chicago, and the native soldiery
remained with them until North Platte was reached.
Then the party proceeded to "Scout's Rest Ranch," where they were hospitably
entertained for a couple of days before starting out on their long trail.
At Denver ammunition and supplies were taken on board the train. A French chef was
also engaged, as Will feared his distinguished guests might not enjoy camp-fare. But a
hen in water is no more out of place than a French cook on a "roughing-it" trip. Frontier
cooks, who understand primitive methods, make no attempt at a fashionable cuisine, and
the appetites developed by open-air life are equal to the rudest, most substantial fare.
Colorado Springs, the Garden of the Gods, and other places in Colorado were visited.
The foreign visitors had heard stories of this wonderland of America, but, like all of
nature's masterpieces, the rugged beauties of this magnificent region defy an adequate
description. Only one who has seen a sunrise on the Alps can appreciate it. The storied
Rhine is naught but a story to him who has never looked upon it. Niagara is only a
waterfall until seen from various view-points, and its tremendous force and transcendent
beauty are strikingly revealed. The same is true of the glorious wildness of our Western
scenery; it must be seen to be appreciated.
The most beautiful thing about the Garden of the Gods is the entrance known as the
Gateway. Color here runs riot. The mass of rock in the foreground is white, and stands
out in sharp contrast to the rich red of the sandstone of the portals, which rise on either
side to a height of three hundred feet. Through these giant portals, which in the sunlight
glow with ruddy fire, is seen mass upon mass of gorgeous color, rendered more striking
by the dazzling whiteness of Pike's Peak, which soars upward in the distance, a hoary
sentinel of the skies. The whole picture is limned against the brilliant blue of the
Colorado sky, and stands out sharp and clear, one vivid block of color distinctly defined
against the other.