The next day passed with but one incident worth recalling. In
the afternoon we crossed the Niobrara at Grand Rapids on a
tumbledown wooden bridge, and turned due west through the Keya
Paha country. This is so called from the Keya Paha River
(pronounced Key-a-paw), a branch of the Niobrara which comes down
out of Dakota and joins it a few miles below Grand Rapids. The
country seemed to be much the same as that through which we had
travelled, perhaps a little flatter and sandier. Just across the
river we saw the first large herd of stock, some five or six
hundred head being driven east by half a dozen cowboys.
A short distance beyond the river we came to a little
blacksmith shop beside the road. As soon as Jack saw it he said:
"We ought to stop and get the horses shod. I was looking at
the holes the calks of Old Blacky's shoes made in the wagon-box
last night, and they are shallow and irregular. He needs new
shoes to do himself justice. If this blacksmith seems like a man
of force of character, we'll see what he can do.
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