LIFE IN THE FAR WEST 265 



legs of his heavy boots. Nodding his head in time 

 with the music, he occasionally gave instructions to 

 such of the dancers as were at fault, singing them to 

 the tune he was playing, in a dismal nasal tone, 



" Down the centre hands across, 

 You Jake Herring thump it, 

 Now, you all go right ahead 

 Every one of you hump it. 



Every one of you hump it." 



The last words being the signal that all should clap the 

 steam on, which they did con amore, and with comical 

 seriousness. 



A mountaineer, Rube Herring, whom we have more 

 than once met in the course of this narrative, became a 

 convert to the Mormon creed, and held forth its W T OII- 

 derful doctrines to such of the incredulous trappers as 

 he could induce to listen to him. Old Rube stood 

 nearly six feet six in height, and was spare and bony in 

 make. He had picked up a most extraordinary cloth 

 coat amongst the Mormons, which had belonged to 

 some one his equal in stature. This coat, which was 

 of a snuff-brown colour, had its waist about a hand's 

 span from the nape of Rube's neck, or about a yard 

 above its proper position, and the skirts reached to his 

 ancles. A slouching felt-hat covered his head, from 

 which long black hair escaped, hanging in flakes over 

 his lantern jaws. His pantaloons of buckskin were 

 shrunk with wet, and reached midway between his 

 knees and ancles, and his huge feet were encased in 

 mocassins of buffalo-cow skin. 



Rube was never without the book of Mormon in his 



