MY LAST BEAR. 87 



Colonel p. to go and stay with him for some time ; 

 and of course I went. Colonel P. is now in command of 

 one of the camps in Oregon, and is a gallant soldier and 

 good comrade to boot. I heard from him the other day 

 that the camp was well stocked with game, and I hope I 

 shall be able to see him in his new quarters next winter. 

 I got to my friend^s house after a couple of day^s travel- 

 ling, which was the roughest I ever did see or hear of, 

 and found my excellent host just sitting down to dinner, 

 and with a fresh imported tap of the very finest 

 whisky I ever tasted. We shot small fry and loafed for 

 two days, cleaning guns, &c., till we were all properly 

 filed up, and I at length persuaded the Colonel to 

 drop drinking for a little time, and " go for bars.^^ We 

 got the nags caught overnight, and with a good 

 supply of blankets, coffee, sugar, and matches, we 

 made tracks for the hills next morning at about three 

 o^ clock. We took a couple of Indians with us, one as 

 factotum in camp, and the other as hunter. They were 

 Klamath-Lakers, I believe, and whether they were 

 Modocs or not, they were the dirtiest, meanest-looking 

 scamps I ever clapt eyes upon. Anything more unlike 

 the " noble savage " of Cooper, or the " bronzed red 

 man^"* of Mayne Reid, cannot be imagined. Th.Q factotum 

 insisted on taking his squaw with him ; she walked the 

 whole way, and carried a pack on her back rather larger 

 than a coffin, her lord and master never once attempting 

 to assist her or give her a lift. I wanted to interfere, 

 but the Colonel told me that if I did she would get a 

 fearful hiding when we were out of sight. Some Indians 

 of course are fine men ; but I must say I cannot under- 

 stand Viscount Milton^s account of their walking powers. 

 When I was in Vancouver and British Columbia I over 



