148 LIFE IN THE FAR WEST. 



pickles, of porter, brandy, coffee, sugar, flour, were tumbled pro- 

 miscuously on the prairie ; while pots and pans, knives, forks, 

 spoons, plates, &c., &c., displayed their unfamiliar faces to the 

 mountaineers. " Hosh-posh and porter" did not now appear such 

 Utopian articles as they had first imagined ; but no one but those 

 who have fared for years on simple meat and water, can under- 

 stand the relish with which they accepted the invitation of the 

 Capen (as they called the Scotchman) to "take a horn of liquor." 

 Killbuck and La Bonte sat in the same position as when we first 

 surprised them asleep under the shadow of Independence Rock, 

 regarding the profuse display of comestibles with scarce-believing 

 eyes, and childishly helpless from the novelty of the scene. Each 

 took the proffered half-pint cup, filled to the brim with excellent 

 brandy — (no tee-totalers they !) — looked once more at the amber- 

 colored surface, and with the usual mountain pledge of " here's 

 luck I" tossed off the grateful liquor at a breath. This prepared 

 them in some measure for what was yet in store' for them. The 

 Scotchman bestirred the cook in his work, and soon sundry steam- 

 ing pots were lifted from the fire, and the skillets emptied of their 

 bread — the contents of the former poured in large flat pans, while 

 panikins were filled with smoking coffee. The two trappers 

 needed no second invitation, but, seizing each a panful of steam- 

 ing stew, drew the butcher-knives from their belts, and fell to 

 lustily — the hospitable Scotchman plying them with more and 

 more, and administering corrective noggins of brandy the while ; 

 until at last they were fain to cry enough, wiped their knives on 

 the grass, and placed them in their sheaths — a sign that human 

 nature could no more. How can pen describe the luxury of the 

 smoke that followed, to lips which had not kissed pipe for many 

 months, and how the fragrant honey-dew from Old Virginia was 

 relishingly puffed. 



But the Scotchman's bounty did not stop here. He soon elicited 

 from the lips of the hunters the narrative of their losses and pri- 



