384 TRAVEL, ADVENTURE, AND SPORT. 



placed it before us. It was a meal that a king might 

 have envied, and the mere smell of it made us forget 

 the rifle-butt. We had scarcely fallen to when the 

 old man laid hold of his gun. 



" Look ye," said he, with a strange grin. " It's my 

 pocket-book. D'ye think it a sin to kill one of them 

 red or white underloppers 1 " 



" Whom do you mean 1 " asked we. 



The man smiled again and rose to depart ; his 

 look, however, was alone enough to enlighten us 

 as to who the two-legged interlopers were whom 

 he had first shot, and then noted on his rifle-butt 

 with as much cool indifference as if they had been 

 wild turkeys instead of human beings. In a region 

 to which the vengeful arm of the law does not 

 reach, we did not feel ourselves called upon or en- 

 titled to set ourselves up as judges, and we let the 

 man go. 



These trappers occasionally, and at long intervals, 

 return for a few days or weeks to the haunts of 

 civilisation ; and this occurs when they have col- 

 lected a sufficient quantity of beaver skins. They 

 then fell a hollow tree that stands on the shore of 

 some navigable stream, make it water-tight, launch 

 it, load it with their merchandise and their few 

 necessaries, and float and row for thousands of miles 

 down the Missouri, Arkansas, or Red River, to St 

 Louis, Natchitoch.es, or Alexandria. They may be 

 seen roaming and staring about the streets of these 



