IN THE OLD WEST 



not sorry to leave it, Mary," he said ; " but it's 

 hard to turn one's back upon old friends." 



They had a hard battle with Killbuck, in en- 

 deavoring to persuade him to accompany them to 

 the settlements. The old mountaineer shook his 

 head. The time, he said, was gone by for that. 

 He had often thought of it, but, when the day ar- 

 rived, he hadn't heart to leave the mountains. 

 Trapping now was of no account, he knew; but 

 beaver was bound to rise, and then the good times 

 would come again. What could he do in the set- 

 tlements, where there wasn't room to move, and 

 where it was hard to breathe there were so many 

 people? 



He accompanied them a considerable distance 

 down the river, ever and anon looking cautiously 

 back, to ascertain that he had not gone out of sight 

 of the mountains. Before reaching the forks, how- 

 ever, he finally bade them adieu ; and, turning the 

 head of his old grizzled mule westward, he heartily 

 wrung the hand of his comrade La Bonte ; and, cry- 

 ing Yep ! to his well-tried animal, disappeared be- 

 hind a roll of the prairie, and was seen no more 

 a thousand good wishes for the welfare of 

 the sturdy trapper speeding him on his solitary 

 way. 



Four months from the day when La Bonte so 

 opportunely appeared to rescue Brand's family 

 from the Indians on Black Horse Creek, that 

 worthy and the faithful Mary were duly and law- 



