LIFE IN THE FAR WEST 19 



cautiously reconnoitred the vicinity of the camp. 

 When he returned to the fire he sat himself down as 

 before, but this time with his rifle across his lap ; and 

 at intervals his keen gray eye glanced piercingly around, 

 particularly towards an old weatherbeaten and grizzled 

 mule, who now, old stager as she was, having filled her 

 belly, stood lazily over her picket-pin, with her head 

 bent down and her long ears flapping over her face, her 

 limbs gathered under her, and her back arched to throw 

 off the rain, tottering from side to side as she rested 

 and slept. 



" Yep, old gal ! " cried Killbuck to the animal, at the 

 same time picking a piece of burnt wood from the fire 

 and throwing it at her, at which the mule gathered 

 itself up and cocked her ears as she recognised her 

 master's voice. " Yep, old gal ! and keep your nose 

 open ; thar's brown skin about, I'm thinkin', and maybe 

 you'll get roped (lasso'd) by a Rapaho afore mornin." 

 Again the old trapper settled himself before the fire ; 

 and soon his head began to nod, as drowsiness stole 

 over him. Already he was in the land of dreams; 

 revelling amongst bands of " fat cow," or hunting along 

 a stream well peopled with beaver; with no Indian 

 " sign " to disturb him, and the merry rendezvous in 

 close perspective, and his peltry selling briskly at six 

 dollars the plew, and galore of alcohol to ratify the 

 trade. Or, perhaps, threading the back trail of his 

 memory, he passed rapidly through the perilous vicissi- 

 tudes of his hard, hard life starving one day, revelling 

 in abundance the next; now beset by whooping savages 



