LIFE IN THE FAR WEST 147 



himself and his own animals was sufficient guarantee 

 that the camp would be well guarded. As he rode 

 ahead, his spurs jingling and thumping the sides of his 

 old horse at every step, he managed, with admirable 

 dexterity, to take advantage of the best line of country 

 to follow avoiding the gullies and canons and broken 

 ground, which would otherwise have impeded his 

 advance. This tact appeared instinctive, for he looked 

 neither right nor left, whilst continuing a course as 

 straight as possible at the foot of the mountains. In 

 selecting a camping site, he displayed equal skill : 

 wood, water, and grass began to fill his thoughts towards 

 sundown, and when these three requisites for a camping 

 ground presented themselves, old Bill sprang from his 

 saddle, unpacked bis animals in a twinkling, and 

 hobbled them, struck fire and ignited a few chips, 

 (leaving the rest to pack in the wood,) lit his pipe, and 

 enjoyed himself. 



On one occasion, when passing through the 

 valley, they had come upon a band of fine buffalo 

 cows, and, shortly after camping, two of the party 

 rode in with a good supply of fat fleece. One of the 

 party was a "greenhorn" on his first hunt, fresh 

 from a fort on Platte, and as yet uninitiated in 

 the mysteries of mountain cooking. Bill, lazily smok- 

 ing his pipe, called to him, as he happened to be 

 nearest, to butcher off a piece of meat and put it in 

 his pot. Markhead seized the fleece, and commenced 

 innocently carving off a huge ration, when a gasping 

 roar from the old trapper caused him to drop his knife. 



