258 Sport and Life. 



that with a little patching up and filling in of the chinks the 

 building could be made fairly weathertight for a year or two 

 longer. And, as I was badly in want of some such place where 

 I could store things, and which I could use as headquarters while 

 in that part of the country, I determined to make Old Dave an 

 offer for it. No great run had apparently affected the price of 

 " old forts." Moreover, Dave's potatoes, upon \vhich he and his 

 family subsisted, had not done very well that year, and whiskey 

 galore could be had at the other end of a seventy mile ride at 

 Sandpoint. Dave's squaw and entirely naked children looked so 

 miserable and half starved that I framed my offer with an eye to 

 their condition, and the 100 dollars I gave for the "Fort" was 

 made up of a 5olb. sack of flour, which then was worth iodols., 

 and godols. in cash. It was jumped at with alacrity. Five minutes 

 later I had Dave's neat signature to the short conveyance I 

 scribbled on the only paper available, a leaf out of my note-book. 

 It is not the least interesting memento I still possess of my fort- 

 buying days. 



Poor, good natured Old Dave would not have occupied the sorry 

 position I found him in had not whiskey ruined his life ; it had 

 been his deadliest foe. He was, moreover, as is generally the case 

 with a squaw-man's establishment, constantly preyed upon by his 

 squaw's numerous relations, who sponged on him with the callous 

 persistence of their race. 



Within ten minutes after I had passed over the greenbacks to 

 Dave, who at once hid them away in the cone of his hat, his 

 tattered shirt and trousers being, apparently, unprovided with 

 pockets, his scantily costumed " tillicums " came rushing in from 

 their camp close by, laughing and chattering at the good news 

 of the untold wealth of " chikamen." 



How to get quickly to Sandpoint seemed to be the most exciting 

 question. The Flatbows on the British side possessed no horses 

 whatever, but their kinsmen in the Kootenai Valley possessed just 

 then a few, for they had been having for once good luck in their 

 gambling with the wily Kalispels, the worst of the Cceur d'Alene 





