MONNEHAN. 157 



he had fastened himself, that he would not 

 at all dislike going to Congress, and would 

 even consent to act as Governor of this far- 

 off and half-savage land known as Oregon. 

 But, as observed a time or two before, 

 Monnehan most of all things desired the 

 name and the renown, like Nimrod, the 

 builder of Babylon, of a "mighty hunter." 

 He had brought no firearms with him, 

 nor w r as my father at all fond of guns, but 

 finally we three little boys, my brother 

 John, two years older than I, my brother 

 James, two years younger, and myself, had 

 a gun between us. So with this gun, Mon- 

 uehan, under his tall hat, a pipe in his 

 teeth and a tremendously heavy stick in 

 his left hand would wander about under 

 the oaks, not too far away from the house, 

 all the working hours of the day. Not that 

 he ever killed anything. In truth, I do not 

 now recall that he ever once fired off the 

 gun. But he got away from work, all the 

 same, and a mighty hunter was Monnehan. 



He carried this club and kept it 

 11 



