January and the weather was down below zero and still a "zeroin'," it
being at this time 20 below. Sixty-five miles from Ft. Lyon I opened the
curtains and asked him how he was faring, and he told me he was frozen
to the knees. At Pretty Encampment I opened the curtains again and told
him we had better put him in cold water and take the frost out of his
limbs. I told him I would cut a hole in the ice and put his feet in
there and he would get all right, but he would not hear to it, he said
he couldn't stand it. I insisted that it was the only plausible thing to
do. He said that if I would drive straight to Ft. Lyon as hard as I
could go that he would give me $100. I told him no, I could not do that,
it would kill the mules before we could get there. At four o'clock,
however, we arrived in Ft. Lyon with our frozen patient. We got a doctor
as soon as possible who doped his legs with oil and cotton and kept
him there.

On my next trip in the month of February, I took a lady passenger, a
Miss Withington, daughter of Charles Withington, who lived ten miles
east of Council Grove, Kansas. She wanted to go to Pueblo, Colorado. I
told her how dangerous it was at that time of the year, but she insisted
that she would make it all right, and as luck would have it, she did
make it. John McClennahan of Independence, Mo., was our driver. On this
trip as on the previous trip, at Pretty Encampment I opened the curtains
and asked Miss Withington how she was. She told me her feet were frozen.
"Well," I said, "Miss Withington, there is only one thing to do, and it
is a little rough." She asked me what it was. I told her that I would
cut a hole in the ice and put her feet in the river if she would consent
to it. She was a nervy little woman, and laughingly told me to "go at
it." I went ahead with blankets and the hatchet and cut a hole in the
ice, and the driver carried her and emersed her feet in water 15 inches
deep. She pluckily stood it without a flinch. Her feet were frozen quite