198 A REAL FRONTIERSMAN. 



this he and a companion had fitted out a slaver for the West 

 Coast of Africa, where he had been seized by a British cruiser, 

 his vessel being condemned and he and his crew turned 

 adrift. He had worked his way back to New Orleans, and 

 from there to San Antonio, where we engaged him to look 

 after the horses. He was one of those men who were always 

 saying what they would do if we met any Indians, having got 

 used to them, as he said, in Montana. How he really behaved 

 will be seen later on. 



On the morning after our arrival we came out of the tent to 

 find, leaning on his rifle by the camp fire, which he had made 

 up, the best-looking specimen of a frontiersman I had yet seen. 

 He stood over six feet high in his moccasins, and was dressed 

 in a buckskin suit and a fur cap. His face was handsome and 

 he had a short beard. On seeing us he came forward, and 

 said that he had heard that we wanted a guide, and knowing 

 the country as far as Denver, he had come to offer himself in 

 that capacity. He seemed just the man we wanted, and had 

 lived most of his life on the frontier, and had fought the 

 Comanches and Kiowas. He had lately returned from a hunt 

 after strayed horses, during which he had been driven into 

 cover by a small party of Indians, having to remain there over 

 twenty-four hours, when he managed to crawl through them at 

 night. These Southern Indians will never dismount to pursue 

 a man, having been brought up to consider their horses as 

 part of themselves, and always running away when he is shot. 

 We had nearly concluded our bargain with this man, when he 

 suddenly asked where the rest of the party was, and on hearing 

 that it was composed of the seven whom he saw, he declined 

 at once to go, saying that no smaller party than fifty men 



