^06 IN THE OLD WEST 



traces of any kind of game, with the exception 

 of some old buffalo-tracks, made apparently 

 months before by a band of bulls crossing the 

 mountain. 



The morning of the fourth day. La Bonte as 

 usual rose at daybreak from his blanket, and was 

 proceeding to collect woo<i for the fire during his 

 absence while hunting, Avhen Killbuck called to 

 him, and in an almost inarticulate voice desired 

 him to seat himself by his side. 



" Boy," he said, " this old boss feels like goin' 

 under, and that afore long. You're stout yet, 

 and if thar was meat handy, you'd come round 

 slick. Now, boy, I'll be under, as I said, afore 

 many hours, and if you don't raise meat you'll be 

 in the same fix. I never eat dead meat * myself, 

 and wouldn't ask no one to do it neither ; but meat 

 fair killed is meat any way ; so, boy, put your 

 knife in this old nigger's lights, and help yourself. 

 It's * poor bull,' I know, but maybe it'll d"o to keep 

 life in ; and along the fleece thar's meat yet, and 

 maybe my old hump-ribs has picking on 'em." 



** You're a good old boss," answered La Bonte, 

 **l)nt this child ain't turned nigger yet." 



Xillbuck then begged his companion to leave 

 him to his fate, and strive himself to reach game; 

 but this alternative La Bonte likewise generously 

 refusetl\, and, faintly endeavoring to cheer the sick 

 man, left him once again to look for game. He 

 * Carrion. 



