162 IN THE OLD WEST 



lars' worth oJ " possibles," he never groaned or 

 grumbled. " There's redskin will pay for this," 

 he once muttered, and was done. 



Packing all that was left on the mule, and 

 mounting Chil-co-the on his buffalo horse, he shoul- 

 dered his rifle and stiTick the Indian trail for 

 Platte. On Horse Creek they came upon a party 

 of French * trappers and hunters, who were en- 

 camped with their lodges and Indian squaws, and 

 formed quite a village. Several old companions 

 were amongst them ; and, to celebrate the arrival 

 of a " camarade," a splendid dog-feast was pre- 

 pared in honor of the event. To effect this, the 

 squaws sallied out of their lodges to seize upon 

 sundry of the younger and plumper of the pack, 

 to fill the kettles for the approaching feast. With 

 a presentiment of the fate in store for them, the 

 curs slunk away with tails between their legs, and 

 declined the pressing invitations of the anxious 

 squaws. These shouldered their tomahawks and 

 gave chase; but the cunning pups outstripped 

 them, and w^ould have fairly beaten the kettles, if 

 some of the mountaineers had not stepped out with 

 their rifles, and quickly laid half-a-dozen ready to 

 the knife. A cayeute, attracted by the scent of 

 blood, drew near, unwitting of the canine feast in 

 progress, and was likewise soon made dog of, and 

 thrust into the boiling kettle with the rest. 



* Creoles of St. Louis, and French Canadians. 



