x THE BEAR 227 



expression of disgust upon our faces, as he exclaimed, "Well, I 

 guess we ain't fixed up for ladies ; and p'r'aps it's as well that you 

 came to-day instead of last night, if you ain't fond of shooting 

 affairs. You were just looking at that table and thinking the 

 table-cover was a bit dirty, weren't you 1 Well, last night Dick 

 and Bill got to words over their cards, and before Dick could get 

 out his six-shooter, young Bill was too quick and resolute, and he 

 put two bullets through him just across this table, and he fell over 

 it on his face, and never spoke a word. It's a good job too that 

 Dick's got it at last." 



This little incident was quite in harmony with the appearance of 

 the den. I knew that letters had been previously forwarded from 

 San Francisco to the Commandant, therefore I strolled towards his 

 quarters, to leave my card and letter of introduction. 



Fort Fetterman is not a fort, but merely an open station, with 

 a frontier guard of one company of troops. I met Colonel Gentry, 

 who was, very kindly, on his way towards the inn to meet us on 

 arrival. Upon my inquiring respecting the fatal quarrel across the 

 table, he informed me that he had held an inquest, and buried the 

 man that morning. 



The deceased was a notorious character, and he would assuredly 

 have shot his younger antagonist, had he not been the quicker of 

 the two in drawing his pistol. 



This was a satisfactory termination to a dispute concerning cards, 

 and there was a total absence of any false sentiment upon the part 

 of the common-sense authority. 



We were most hospitably entertained by Major and Mrs. Powell, 

 to whose kind care we were committed by Colonel Gentry, who, 

 being a bachelor, had no accommodation for ladies. It was very 

 delightful, in the centre of a prairie wildernesss, to meet with ladies, 

 and to hear the rich contralto voice of Miss Powell, their daughter 

 of eighteen, who promised to be a singer much above the 

 average. 



On the following morning we started for Powder River, 92 miles 

 from Fort Fetterman ; there was no public conveyance, as Powder 

 River station had been abandoned since^the Indians had been driven 

 back, and confined to their reservation lands. We were bound by 

 invitation to the cattle ranche of Mr. R. Frewen and his brother 

 Mr. Moreton Frewen; these gentlemen had an establishment at 

 Powder River, although their house was 22 miles distant upon the 

 other side, in the centre of their ranche. They had very kindly 

 sent a four-wheeled open carriage for us ; one of those conveyances 

 that are generally known as American waggons, with enormously 



