ANTOINE CARDAPEE. 203 



poses ; that was necessary in order to be understood, and 

 I elaborated a map on my powder horn which showed 

 all the streams, swamps and hills to the best of my ability. 

 This horn was left in Potosi, as of no further use. Just 

 what I would give to see it hanging on a wall of my den 

 to-day I cannot say. We measure the things of the mo- 

 ment by their utility or their cash value, but those of the 

 past which formed a part of our lives become treasures 

 beyond price when they serve as links to connect us with 

 a time far removed. A sword that was "held by the 

 enemy" for over a quarter of a century is on my wall. It 

 may be sold for old junk, but not before I am put to bed 

 with a spade and sodded over. 



Let's see; we were talking about an old powder horn. 

 It cost only the time to bore out the tip, fit the bottom 

 and to polish the thing a mere nothing but it's so easy 

 to get off the track. I was only going to say to the boys 

 of to-day: Never throw away anything that you can 

 keep. A trifling thing becomes priceless after forty 

 years have passed. That's all ! 



When the old trapper threw down his load and said, 

 "We make here our house," his partner, who had begun 

 to think that there was no end to the journey, rejoiced. 

 On a little knoll we laid the foundation for the cabin. 

 Antoine was one of those men who are so handy with an 

 axe that you wouldn't be surprised to see a clock made by 

 him with that tool alone, and he measured and notched 

 the logs and showed me how to put the small ends, that 

 made the sides, to the rear, and so help the slant of the 

 roof. He split the long three-foot shingles, a few 

 "puncheons" for part of a floor, on which we slept, and 

 also for the door frames and the door. We chinked the 

 logs, and plastered them with clay mixed with coarse 

 grass, made a fireplace and stone chimney, and then 



