occurred to me to tell him a Bridger yarn, knowing that the Wild West 

 appealed strongly to most Englishmen; he was so delighted that I had 

 to scrape bare the chambers of memory for everything concerning 

 Bridger that I had ever heard. When I was starting for Liverpool, to take 

 the steamer home, and was already seated in the train, my host came to 

 the station to bid me farewell. Looking at his watch, he said: "There 

 are three minutes left before your train starts; can't you tell me another 

 Bridger story?" This experience encourages me to set down here such of 

 these tales as I can remember. 



A young officer, fresh from West Point, once asked the question: 

 "Jim, how long have you been in this country, anyhow?" Pointing to 

 Bridger Butte, a ridge two miles long, that rises abruptly a hundred 

 feet, or more, out of the plain, Jim said: "Do you see that there butte?" 

 "Yes, of course." "Well, when I came here, that butte was a hole in the 

 ground." To a tourist who begged Jim to take him out on a grizzly- 

 bear hunt, the old man gave an answer that I have often had occasion to 

 quote: "I aint lost no b'ar and I aint a huntin' for none." One day, Jim 

 came into the post, pretending to be much excited over a marvellous 

 country which he had discovered, where everything was petrified. "The 

 trees was petrified and the bushes was petrified and the grass was petri- 

 fied and there was a dead b'ar lyin' there and he was petrified and the 

 drops of sweat on him, they was petrified, too." That was a little too 

 much for the hearers, one of whom said: "Oh! get out, Jim; the attrac- 

 tion of gravitation would have pulled the drops off." Jim knew nothing 

 of gravitation, but was not to be halted by any such trifle, so he retorted: 

 "Why! out in that country the attraction of gravitation is petrified." 



Bridger's most elaborate and artistic production was a story told me by 

 Dr. Paulding, post surgeon of old Fort Laramie. According to this tale, 

 Bridger came into Laramie one day and was promptly seized upon by 

 a group of young officers, who demanded a story. After protesting that 

 he did not know any stories, Jim finally said : "Did I ever tell you how 

 tlie Indians chased me up the Black Canyon?" "No, we never heard that 

 one, tell us about it." "Well, I was out huntin' west of the Big Horn 

 range, when I see some Indians and I didn't like their looks, so I turned 

 and rode toward the mountains and the Indians took after me. I rode 

 all day and at nightfall the Indians was as close as ever. So I rode all 

 night, I had a damn' good horse, you know, but in the mornin' there 

 was the Indians; I hadn't gained on 'em a bit. So I rode into the Black 

 Canyon and rode all the next day and night — I had a damn' good horse, 

 but I couldn't shake them Indians off. All this time the canyon kep' 



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