Mother often told him that a man who could not swim ought not
to swim a horse. But he continued to do so until the streams were
bridged, many years later. The last time he did so was in the spring
of 1871. He was riding a little Indian pony, and carried some bundles.
The Stranger Creek was full, and very cold, and when his heavy
overcoat became water-soaked, he saw that the pony was about to be
swept down the current. Sliding off from its back, he kept his arm
about its neck, thinking the water would hold part of his weight. But
he soon saw that he was pulling it down stream, so that it was likely
to be tangled in some willows, and he reached back and caught hold of
its tail, and it pulled him safely to shore. He reached home very wet,
but with bundles and overcoat all safe.
He then determined to have a bridge on the road along his boundary line.
But every man, up and down the creek, wanted a bridge on his own line,
and so there was much opposition. But he at length succeeded in
obtaining a bridge.
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