LIFE IN THE FAR WEST 227 



the two mountaineers rode into the glade, and dis- 

 mounted close to the plum and cherry thicket, which 

 formed almost a wall before them, and an excellent 

 shelter from the wind. Jumping off their horses, they 

 were in the act of removing the saddles from their 

 backs, when a shrill neigh burst from the thicket not 

 two yards behind them : a rustling in the bushes 

 followed, and presently a man dressed in buckskin 

 and rifle in hand, burst out of the tangled brush, 

 exclaiming in an angry voice 



" Do'ee hy'ar now ? I was nigh upon gut-shootin 

 some of e'e I was now ; thought e'e was darned Rapa- 

 hos, I did, and cached right off." 



" Ho, Bill ! what, old hos ! not gone under yet ? " 

 cried both the hunters. " Give us your paw." 



"Do'ee now, if hy'ar ar'nt them boys as was rubbed 

 out on Lodge Pole (creek) a time ago. Do'ee hyar ? if 

 this aint ' some ' now, I wouldn't say so." 



Leaving old Bill Williams and our two friends to 

 exchange their rough but hearty greetings, we will 

 glance at that old worthy's history since the time when 

 we left him caching in the fire and smoke on the Indian 

 battle-ground in the Rocky Mountains. He had 

 escaped fire and smoke, or he would not have been here 

 on Arkansa with his old grizzled Nez-perce steed. On 

 that occasion, the veteran mountaineer had lost his two 

 pack-animals and all his beaver. He was not the man, 

 however, to want a horse or mule as long as an Indian 

 village was near at hand. Skulking, therefore, by day 

 in canon and deep gorges of the mountains, and tra- 



