A Mountain Fraud 
In consequence of these misfortunes, our 
progress was so slow that we made camp 
that night only six miles from our starting- 
point. The next night we reached Big Butte 
Ferry, the trouble about the packs keeping up, 
and Emigrant growing more and more averse 
to the exertions required from him. At this 
point we “cached” the stove, stovepipe, and 
half a dozen of our most useless pots and 
pans, despite the remonstrances of our cook, 
and engaged a young man named Joe, who 
had been out for a month prospecting for 
coal, but was quite willing to turn back with 
us. Reaching the village of Kaintuck at 
noon, we camped in the corral of the livery- 
stable, and in less than half an hour our cook 
betook himself to one of the neighboring 
saloons, where we shortly found him so 
drunk as to be incapable of speech or motion, 
but—as we judged from never seeing him 
again—still able to understand that he was 
discharged. 
During the afternoon we fell into conver- 
sation with a bright, active-looking fellow who 
came to call on us; and, finding that he was 
familiar with the Teton country, had hunted 
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