18 LIFE IN THE FAR WEST 



to be in my possibles ? Whar's the ind of this, I say ? 

 Is a man to be hunted by Injuns all his days 1 Many's 

 the time I've said I'd strike for Taos, and trap a squaw, 

 for this child's getting old, and feels like wanting a 

 woman's face about his lodge for the balance of his 

 days ; but when it comes to caching of the old traps, 

 I've the smallest kind of heart, I have. Certain, the 

 old State comes across my mind now and again, but 

 who's thar to remember my old body 1 But them 

 diggings gets too over-crowded now-a-days, and it's haxd 

 to fetch breath amongst them big bands of corncrackers 

 to Missoura. Beside, it goes against natur to leave 

 bufler meat and feed on hog ; and them white gals are 

 too much like picturs, and a deal too 'fofarraw' 

 (fanfaron.) No ; darn the settlements, I say. It won't 

 shine, and whar's the dollars ? Hows'ever, beaver's 

 ' bound to rise ; ' human natur can't go on selling beaver 

 a dollar a pound ; no, no, that arn't a going to shine 

 much longer, I know. Them was the times when this 

 child first went to the mountains : six dollars the plew 

 old 'un or kitten. Wagh ! but it's bound to rise, I 

 says agin ; and hyar's a coon knows whar to lay his 

 hand on a dozen pack right handy, and then he'll take 

 the Taos trail, wagh ! " 



Thus soliloquising, Killbuck knocked the ashes from 

 his pipe, and placed it in the gaily ornamented case 

 that hung round his neck, drew his knife-belt a couple 

 of holes tighter, resumed his pouch and powder-horn, 

 took his rifle, which he carefully covered with the folds 

 of his Navajo blanket, and striding into the darkness, 



