The White Goat and his Country 



Another accurate observer had seen three 

 hundred on a hill just above Early Winter as 

 he was passing by. The cabined dwellers on 

 the Methow tied their horses to the fence and 

 talked to me so I had come from the East 

 after goats, had I? and in the store of the 

 Man at the Forks I became something of a 

 curiosity. Day by day I sat on the kegs of 

 nails, or lay along the counter devoted to his 

 dry-goods, and heard what passed. Citi- 

 zens and denizens for the Siwash with his 

 squaws and horses was having his autumn 

 hunt in the valley knocked at the door to 

 get their mail, or buy tobacco, or sell horns 

 and fur, or stare for an hour and depart with a 

 grunt; and the grave Man at the Forks stood 

 behind one counter while I lay on the other, 

 acquiring a miscellaneous knowledge. One 

 old medical gentleman had slain all wild ani- 

 mals without weapons, and had been the 

 personal friend of so many distinguished his- 

 torical characters that we computed he was 

 nineteen about the time of Bunker Hill. They 

 were hospitable with their information, and I 

 followed my rule of believing everything that 

 I hear. And they were also hospitable with 



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