Jim Bridger laughingly remarked: "If you are not careful you will
pass Pike's Peak before you go there, for there is the mountain,"
pointing to the Peak, the foot of which we were just then passing.
At this another man said: "We are going to Cherry creek to the
mines. Do you know how far it is?"
I told him it was twenty miles to the head of Cherry creek. He
then asked me how far it was to Denver. I told him I had never
heard of any creek or river by that name in this country. "But,"
he said, "I mean Denver City." But Jim and I had never heard of
the place. He said Denver City was on Cherry creek in the gold
mines.
We passed on, crossing the main divide between the Arkansas and
the Platte rivers, striking the head of Cherry creek, then
traveled down Cherry creek to the mouth, on a now well-beaten
wagon road, the dust in places being six inches deep or more.
When we were within a mile of the mouth of Cherry creek I looked
ahead, and for the first time I saw Denver, there being then as I
supposed about fifty tents and campers' houses in the place. We
stopped to take a look around and saw people coming in, every hour
of the day, over the Platte and Arkansas river routes, and could
see all kind of conveyances from a hand cart to a six-horse team.
While there I saw a number of carts come in drawn by men alone,
all the way from two to eight men to the cart.
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