HOMEWARD BOUND 193 



moved, and the horses and Billie were 

 tethered. As was my custom when lunch was 

 over, I rolled up in one of Billie's blankets 

 with the saddle for a pillow, and was soon 

 sound asleep. Awaking at the sound of a 

 peculiarly strange and rasping voice, I saw a 

 smallish man whom I had met and talked with 

 on our way into the hunting country. He was 

 a miner with a seventh interest in a gold mine 

 near by. He was accompanied by three big 

 husky dogs who walked around looking for 

 a few stray morsels of food left over from 

 our lunch. He was about finishing a yarn 

 that he was telling to the listening men when 

 he suddenly stopped in the middle of his 

 story. 



"Say, Tom," he said to the Chief, "isn't that 

 Billie the Wild?" 



"Yes, it is; do you know him?" 



"Do I know him? You bet I do. How 

 much will you sell him for?" 



"I'll sell him for three hundred dollars." 



"Well, Tom, if I had the money I would 

 certainly buy him." 



"Why? You don't want a mule — what 

 could you do with him?" 



"I'd do nothing iviih him, but I would do 

 a great many things to him. I would keep 



