IN THE OLD WEST 181 



he used to experience at the sudden sight of one 

 Mary Brand, whose dim and dreamy apparition 

 so often watched his lonely bed, or, unconsciously 

 conjured up, cheered him in the dreary watches 

 of the long and stormy winter nights. 



At first he only knew that one face haunted his 

 dreams by night, and the few moments by day 

 when he thought of anything, and this face smiled 

 lovingly upon him and cheered him mightily. 

 Name he had quite forgotten, or recalled it 

 vaguely, and, setting small store by it, had 

 thought of it no more. 



For many years after he had deserted his home, 

 La Bonte had cherished the idea of again re- 

 turning to his country. During this period he 

 had never forgotten his old flame, and many a 

 choice fur he had carefully laid by, intended as 

 a present for Mary Brand ; and many a gage 

 d'amour of cunning shape and device, worked in 

 stained quills of porcupine and bright-colored 

 beads — the handiwork of nimble-fingered squaws 

 — he had packed in his " possible " sack for the 

 same destination, hoping a time would come when 

 he might lay them at her feet. 



Year after year wore on, however, and still 

 found him, with traps and rifle, following his peril- 

 ous avocation ; and each succeeding one saw him 

 more and more wedded to the wild mountain-life. 

 He was conscious how unfitted he had become 

 again to enter the galling harness of convention- 



