On the fourth mile his rider let him out, and arrived at the hotel--the home-station--in Wyandotte a long way ahead of his fastest competitor.
Everybody was surprised, as well as disgusted, that such a homely "critter" should be the winner.

Brigham, of course, had already acquired a wide reputation, and his name and exploits had often appeared in the newspapers, and when it was learned that this "critter" was none other than the identical buffalo-hunting Brigham, nearly the whole crowd admitted that they had heard of him before, and had they known him in the first place they certainly would have ruled him out.
I finally lost track of Brigham, and for several years I did not know what had become of him.

Three years ago, while I was at Memphis, Tennessee, I met a Mr.Wilcox, who had been one of the superintendents of construction of the Kansas Pacific Railroad, and he informed me that he owned Brigham, and that he was at that time on his farm, only a few miles out of town.

The next day I rode out with Mr.Wilcox and took a look at the gallant old horse.

He was comfortably cared for in Mr.Wilcox's stable, and looked the same clever pony that he always was.