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Updated: May 1, 2025
Mon Dieu! De Prospector he's lak wil' man. 'Perault, he say, 'I promise de ole man I go for fin' dat mine. 'All right, boss, I say, 'me too. We make cache for grub, we hobble de ponee and go for fin' dat mine. Dat's one blank hard day. Over rock and tree and hole and stomp he's go lak one deerhoun. Next day he's jus' same. For me, I'm tire' out.
I come and fin' de Prospector he's ver' mad; mos' awful mad; never see heem lak, dat before. 'Perault, he say, 'get ponee and grub queek. We go for de Los' Reever." "By gar! He's mak me scare. I get ponee an' grub and get off queek, toute suite, right away. Well, we go two day hard and come to de camp where de Ole Boss he's die, den we climb over de montin.
After tea I proposed a ride out to see the sunset from the nearest rising ground. Latour, with unexampled generosity, offered his own cayuse, "Louis." "I can't ride well," protested The Pilot. "Ah! dat's good ponee, Louis," urged Latour. "He's quiet lak wan leetle mouse; he's ride lak what you call? wan horse-on-de-rock." Under which persuasion the pony was accepted.
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