172 LIFE IN THE FAR WEST 



sailor's knot, and the collar of bis shirt turned carefully 

 over it. He had, moreover, a tolerable idea of his 

 very correct appearance, and wore Woodstock gloves. 



The trappers looked at them from head to foot, and the 

 more they looked, the less could they make them out. 



" H ! " exclaimed La Bonte emphatically. 



"This beats grainin' bull-hide slick," broke from 

 Killbuck as the strangers reined up at the fire, the 

 younger dismounting, and staring with wonder at the 

 weather-beaten trappers. 



" Well, my men, how are you ? " he rattled out. 

 " Any game here 1 By Jove ! " he suddenly exclaimed, 

 seizing his rifle, as at that moment a large buzzard, the 

 most unclean of birds, flew into the topmost branch of 

 a cottonwood, and sat, a tempting shot. " By Jove, 

 there's a chance ! " cried the mighty hunter ; and, 

 bending low, started off to approach the unwary bird in 

 the most approved fashion of northern deer-stalkers. 

 The buzzard sat quietly, and now and then stretched its 

 neck to gaze upon the advancing sportsman, who on 

 such occasions threw himself flat on the ground, and 

 remained motionless in dread of alarming the bird. It 

 was worth while to look at the countenance of old 

 Killbuck, as he watched the antics of the " bourgeois " 

 hunter. He thought at first that the dandy rifleman 

 had really discovered game in the bottom, and was 

 nothing loth that there was a chance of his seeing meat ; 

 but when he understood the object of such manoeuvres, 

 and saw the quarry the hunter was so carefully 

 approaching, his mouth grinned from ear to ear, and, 



