RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 7 



lie within a few yards of me on opposite sides of my camp, 

 and the varmints aforesaid are not likely to disturb them 

 either, so long as the fire burns. If they do, I shall be very 

 likely to find it out, and death will forthwith go abroad in 

 the land. 



And then it is so nice and quiet here. That outweighs 

 all objections to the place and its surroundings. The conduc- 

 tor will not interrupt my snooze to-night by shaking my arm 

 and calling for " teekets," nor the brakeman by shouting 

 "clamzoo, change cars for 'troit," nor the train butcher by 

 yelling "peanuts." The infernal milkman's bell won't toll 

 the hour of four o'clock to-morrow morning. I won't have 

 to put my vest under my head to save that thirty-five cents 

 in my pocket-book from the burglars. They will give my 

 room a wide berth to-night. The landlord can't harass me 

 this evening with that little "arrears of rent bill" of his. 

 The grocer and the butcher can whistle for what I owe them, 

 that is, if they feel like whistling. I don't care if coal is 

 booming. Let her boom. I don't want any now. Have 

 plenty of fuel for the present, thank you. I think of the 

 little black-eyed widow away back at home, and wonder how 

 she is faring in the battle of life. That's the only care I have 

 to-night. But surely no ill can befall her when a fellow is 

 away off out here. It would be a mighty cowardly fate that 

 would steal a march on a man and rob him of his treasures 

 when he is not there to defend them, so I will consign her to 

 the care of Him who watcheth over the little sparrows, dis- 

 miss that care also, and betake myself to sleep. 



The weather grew intensely cold during the night; the 

 rain turned to snow, and the water that hung on the leaves 

 froze. Ice formed on the little ponds of water, and Jack 

 Frost woke me up several times during the night to replenish 

 my fire. At four o'clock in the morning I took the heart of 



