294 MEET WITH OLD FRIENDS. 



as far as the beautiful vale of Taos. Here I found A 

 couple of mountain friends, who insisted on my remaining 

 a few days with them, to give them a leaf of my life since 

 I had quit the Rocky Mountains. One of them old 

 Rube Herring, said he could not swallow all the stories I 

 told him about fighting with elephants and tigers and 

 both of the listeners hinted that I was trying to "|ull," 

 them. I bore their sneers patiently, not caring, whether 

 they believed or doubted me, and they then began to think 

 that the wonder, ot whicn 1 spoke were "jest so, and no 

 mistake." " Perhaps, Perey, my boy," said one of them, 

 "you know as much as my mule Kit, and she knew fresh 

 grass so darn'd well, that we couldn't get her to eat hay, 

 and so she starved to death." I made many inquiries 

 concerning my old friends. Some had been "rubbed out 

 by the Injuns," as the hunters expressed it, but most of 

 them were still pursuing their adventurous business. Among 

 them was my- chum Joe, whom, the hunters said, I would 

 be sure to find at "Brown's Hole." 



I set out alone to cross the wild country between the 

 vale and that famous station. I was well provided in 

 every respect; but it was well-known that parties of 

 treacherous Indians were numerous in this region, and a 

 single hunter had a small chance for life, in daring to en- 

 counter them. But I was fully acquainted with the route, 

 and trusted to my powers of flight and concealment to 



