544 IN THE OLD WEST 



One of the band of mountaineers was Marcelline, 

 and a single look at the miserable beast was suffi- 

 cient for him to recognize the once renowned Nez- 

 perce steed of old Bill Williams. That the owner 

 himself was not far distant he felt certain; and, 

 searching carefully around, the hunters presently 

 came upon an old camp, before which lay, pro- 

 truding from the snow, the blackened remains of 

 pine logs. Before these, which had been the fire, 

 and leaning with his back against a pine trunk, 

 and his legs crossed under him, half covered with 

 snow, reclined the figure of the old mountaineer, 

 his snow-capped head bent over his breast. His 

 well-known hunting-coat of fringed elk-skin hung 

 stiff and weather-stained about him ; and his rifle, 

 packs, and traps were strewed around. 



Awe-struck, the trappers approached the body, 

 and found it frozen hard as stone, in which state 

 it had probably lain there for many days or weeks. 

 A jagged rent in the breast of his leather coat, 

 and dark stains about it, showed he had received 

 a wound before his death; but it was impossible 

 to say, whether to his hurt, or to sickness, or to 

 the natural decay of age, was to be attributed 

 the wretched and solitary end of poor Bill Wil- 

 liams. 



A friendly bullet cut short the few remaining 

 hours of the trapper's faithful steed; and bury- 

 ing, as well as they were able, the body of the 

 old mountaineer, the hunters next day left him 



