CHAPTER VIII. 
OLD BILL SMITH, THE SILENT HUNTER. 
I CARRIED out my resolution, to get at all that could be 
reached concerning the history of Bill Smith. On a new ex- 
cursion, I saw and made my peace with Uncle Jake—the one 
of his old comrades who had most of his confidence, and whe 
lived nearest to the concluding scenes of his life. My friend 
Charlie and myself spent a week with him this time, and we 
were even successful, after the first day, in reconciling to us 
our old acquaintance and guide, Jabe, in spite of the terrible 
fright we had given him through my phrenological enthusiasm. 
Jabe seemed to have come, finally, to the logical conclusion, 
that, as the ghost had not yet ridden us into our graves, that 
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