soldier was in good condition then to talk--the toddy had done its work
well--and he said: "I gad, Colonel, you ah jes' about right----;" but he
could get no further. One soldier had closed his mouth, with the remark
to Colonel Boone, that some soldiers never knew what they were talking
about, when they had enjoyed a good glass of whiskey. The Colonel
laughed as though the subject was of no importance to him and strolled
out in the yard. Just then Mollie Boone appeared at the dining room door
with a cheery smile, beguiling as the flower in her hair was fragrant,
and with a "welcome, gentlemen, to the Boone home," in her comely face,
bade them all go in to dinner. At the dinner table wit and mirth flowed
as freely as did the water down the throats of those hungry boys
in blue.

When these boys had partaken of this bounty to their full satisfaction,
they thanked the pretty waitresses for the excellent dinner. The
daughters followed them from the dining room begging them to never pass
this way without coming in to see them, and promising to have a feast
prepared for them. They departed, the girls returning to the dining room
to peep behind curtains to watch the manly soldiers disappear around the
house, to the stables where their horses were still munching the hay,
caring nothing at all about returning to the station at Haynes'.

The next trip I made to Bent's Fort was made without a conductor on the
stage. One of the owners of the Stage Company, Mr. J.T. Barnum, said to
me: "Billy, you go through to Denver with the express and mail, and then
act as conductor back again to the Fort."

On my return trip, I came in contact with a company of soldiers camped
at Pueblo, Colorado. Several of the soldiers were at the Hotel at
Pueblo, and during our talk together, I asked one of the soldiers if he