LIFE IN THE FAR WEST. 179 



The day came, however. The band of mountaineers 

 were already mounted, and those with wives in charge 

 were some hours on the road, leaving the remainder 

 quaffing many a stirrup-cup before they left. Dick 

 "Wooton was as melancholy as a buffalo bull in spring ; 

 and as he rode down the village, and approached the 

 house of his lady-love, who stood wrapped in reboso, and 

 cigarito in mouth, on the sill of the door, he turned away 

 his head as if dreading to say adios. La Bonte rode 

 beside him, and a thought struck him. 



"Ho, Dick!" he said, "thar's the gal, and thar's the 

 mountains : shoot sharp's the word." 



Dick instantly understood him, and was "himself 

 again." He rode up to the girl as if to bid her adieu, and 

 she came to meet him. Whispering one word, she put her 

 foot upon his, was instantly seized round the waist, and 

 placed upon the horn of his saddle. He struck spurs into 

 his horse, and in a minute was out of sight ; his three 

 companions covering his retreat, and menacing with their 

 rifles the crowd which was soon drawn to the spot by the 

 cries of the girl's parents, who had been astonished specta- 

 tors of the daring rape. 



The trapper and his bride, however, escaped scatheless, 

 and the whole party effected a safe passage of the moun- 

 tains, and reached the Arkansa, where the band was broken 

 up, some proceeding to Bent's Fort, and others to the 

 Platte, amongst whom were Killbuck and La Bonte, still 

 in company. 



These two once more betook themselves to trapping, the 

 Yellow Stone being their chief hunting-ground. But we 

 must again leap over months and years, rather than con- 

 duct the reader through all their perilous wanderings, and 

 at last bring him back to the camp on Bijou, where we first 

 introduced him to our mountaineers ; and as we have 

 already followed them on the Arapaho trail, which they 

 pursued to recover their stolen animals from a band 

 of that nation, we will once again seat ourselves at the 

 camp on Boiling Spring, where they had met a strange 

 hunter on a solitary expedition to the Bayou Salade, 



