26 LIFE IN THE FAR WEST. 



time, wagh ! What has come of it, and whar's the dollars as 

 ought to be in my possibles ? Whar's the ind of this, I say ? 

 Is a man to be hunted by Injuns all his days ? Many's the 

 time I've said I'd strike for Taos and trap a squaw, for this 

 child's getting old, and feels like wanting a woman's face about 

 his lodge for the balance of his days ; but when it comes to cach- 

 ing of the old traps, I've the smallest kind of heart, I have. Cer- 

 tam, the old state come across my mind now and again, but who's 

 thar to remember my old body ? But them diggings get too over 

 crowded nowadays, and it is hard to fetch breath amongst them 

 big bands of corncrackers to Missoura. Beside, it goes against 

 iiatur to leave bufler meat and feed on hog ; and them white gals 

 are too much like picturs, and a deal too 'fofaraw' (fanfaron). 

 No ; darn the settlements, I say. It won't shine, and whar's the 

 dollars ? Howsever, beaver's ' bound to rise ;' human natur can't 

 go on selUng beaver a dollar a pound ; no, no, that arn't a-going 

 to shine much longer, I know. Them was the times when this 

 child first went to the mountains : six dollars the plew — old 'un 

 or kitten. Wagh I but it's bound to rise, I says agin ; and hyar's 

 a coon knows whar to lay his hand on a dozen pack right handy, 

 and then he'll take the Taos trail, wa^h I" 



Thus soliloquizing, Killbuck knocked the ashes from his pipe, 

 and placed it in the gayly ornamented case that hung round his 

 neck, drew his knife-belt a couple of holes tighter, resumed his 

 pouch and powder-horn, took his rifle, which he carefully covered 

 with the folds of his Navajo blanket, and striding into the dark- 

 ness, cautiously reconnoitered the vicinity of the camp. When he 

 returned to the fire he sat himself down as before, but this time 

 with his rifle across his lap ; and at intervals his keen gray eye 

 glanced piercingly around, particularly toward an old, weather- 

 beaten, and gi'izzled mule, who now, old stager as she was, having 

 filled her belly, stood lazily over her picket pin, with her head bent 

 down and her long ears flapping over her face, her hmbs gathered 



