a78 IN THE OLD WEST 



glade, and dismounted close to the plum and cherry 

 thicket, whicli formed almost a wall before them, 

 and an excellent shelter from the wind. Jumping 

 off their horses, they were in the act of removing 

 the saddles from their backs, when a shrill neigh 

 burst from the thicket not two yards behind them : 

 a rustling in the bushes followed, and presently a 

 man dressed in buckskin and rifle in hand, burst 

 out of the tangled brush, exclaiming in an angry 

 voice — 



" Do'ee hyar now? I was nigh upon gut- 

 shootin' some of e'e — I was now ; thought e'e was 

 darned Rapahos, I did, and cached right off." 



" Ho, Bill ! what, old hoss ! not gone under 

 yet? " cried both the hunters. " Give us your 

 paw." 



" Do 'ee now, if hyar am't them bo^^s as was 

 rubbed out on Lodge Pole (creek) a time ago. 

 Do'ee hyar? if this ain't some now, I wouldn't say 

 so." 



Leaving old Bill Williams and our two friends 

 to exchange their rough but hearty greetings, we 

 will glance at that old worthy's history since the 

 time when we left him caching in the fire and 

 smoke on the Indian battle-ground in the Rocky 

 Mountains. He had escaped fire and smoke, or he 

 would not have been here on Arkansa with his old 

 grizzled Nez-perce steed. On that occasion the 

 veteran mountaineer had lost his two pack-animals 

 and all his beaver. He was not the man, however. 



