Hunting at High Altitudes 



shore in the diary of 1882. When the raft was 

 ready, the baggage was carried from camp and 

 thrown on the ground before being loaded and 

 lashed down on the raft. Just then on our trail 

 and behind us appeared a party of from fifteen to 

 twenty mounted men, and as they approached, they 

 were seen to be Indians men and women. One 

 of the principal men, conspicuous by the size of his 

 headdress, appeared, on nearer approach, to be a 

 black man, a full-blooded African. It was a party 

 of Crows on the way to visit the Shoshoni Indians 

 at Fort Washaki Agency. The black man, as we 

 afterward learned, was a Missouri negro, adopted 

 into the Crow nation. He had a wife and a skin 

 lodge, and his dress was that of an Indian. As the 

 party reached us, Smoky, for so* he was called, 

 came straight up to where I was standing, and 

 with the utmost assurance said, "Boss, give me a 

 chew of tobacco." Smoky's manner and words 

 recalled happy years, both as child and adult, of 

 long association with that kindly race. If I had 

 possessed a hogshead of tobacco it would have been 

 freely dumped at his feet, but as I was not a user 

 of the weed, his appeal was in vain. 



I was recalled to the present by a glance at the 

 angry stream. To the chief of the party I pointed 

 out the raft we had fashioned, and offered it for 



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