A VISIT TO BROWN'S HOLE. 



while knowing that keen-eyed and merciless savages were 

 lurking near. However, I arose in the morning, tolerably 

 refreshed, and pursued my journey. No further inci- 

 dents, worthy of mention, occurred, until my arrival at 

 Brown's Hole. 



The sight of this famous station was to me like a view 

 of home. It is the only home, which the hunter of the 

 Rocky Mountains ever knows, and it is natural that he 

 should feel a kind of attachment to it. The traders wel- 

 comed me with a show of cordiality. Parties were com- 

 ing in from all directions I had not been at the station 

 more than fifteen minutes when a bloated face was placed 

 directly before mine, and I recognised Joe Blaney. He 

 had already commenced the dissipation that was to con- 

 tinue during the winter. But he recognised me, in spite 

 of his blurred vision, and after we had enjoyed a cordial 

 shake of the hand, we sat down to smoke and chat. I 

 determined to remain a few weeks at the station. During 

 that period, the hunters, of whom I have spoken in a pre- 

 vious portion of this narrative, as making a rendezvous of 

 Brown's Hole, came in, and my tongue was driven to a 

 rapid gallop in answering their inquiries. Some of my 

 stories were believed, but the greater portion of what I 

 related was set down as fudge. 



As soon as the mountaineers began to give themselves 

 up to the dissipation of the station, I bade Joe adieu, 



