234 LIFE IN THE FAR WEST. 



motionless in the center of the prairie. Drawing near, they found 

 it to be an old grizzled mustang, or Indian pony, with cropped 

 ears and ragged tail (well picked by hungry mules), standing 

 doubled up with cold, and at the very last gasp from extreme old 

 age and weakness. Its bones were nearly through the stiffened 

 skin, the legs of the animal were gathered under it ; while its for- 

 lorn-looking head and stretched-out neck hung listlessly downward, 

 almost overbalancing its tottering body. The glazed and sunken 

 eye — the protruding and froth-covered tongue — the heaving flank 

 and quivering tail — declared its race was run ; and the driving 

 sleet and snow, and penetrating winter blast, scarce made impres- 

 sion upon its callous and worn-out frame. 



One of the band of mountaineers was Marcellin, and a single 

 look at the miserable beast was sufficient for him to recognize the 

 once renowned Nez-perce steed of old Bill Williams. That the 

 owner himself was not far distant he felt certain ; and, searching 

 carefully around, the hunters presently came upon an old camp, 

 before which lay, protruding from the snow, the blackened 

 remains of pine logs. Before these, which had been the fire, and 

 leaning with his back against a pine trunk, and his legs crossed 

 under him, half covered with snow, reclined the figure of the old 

 mountaineer, his snow-capped head bent over his breast. His 

 well-known hunting-coat of fringed elk-skin hung stiff and weather- 

 stained about him ; and his rifle, packs, and traps, were strewed 

 around. 



Awe-struck, the trappers approached the body, and found it 

 frozen hard as stone, in which state it had probably lain there 

 for many days or weeks. A jagged rent in the breast of his 

 leather coat, and dark stains about it, showed he had received 

 a wound before his death ; but it was impossible to say, wheth- 

 er to his hurt, or to sickness, or to the natural decay of age, 

 was to be attributed the wretched and solitary end of poor Bill 

 Williams. 



