"Why, jest arter I'd killed the goat, an' war heisting it on my shoulders, I spied a Injun glidin' into the bushes. I seed it war a squaw; an' jest the picter o' the Chicasaw. She 'peared as ef she hed kim right from hyar, an' I thort you must a seed her." "Did you get sight of her face?" "No, her back war torst me, an' she kep on 'ithout turnin' or stoppin' a minnit.

"Dead as an Injun wi' his head cut off," replied the trapper, taking a small feather out of his cap and tossing it in the air. "See, cap, it falls plump!" "It does, truly." "We kin easily git roun' them bufflers afore they wind us; an' we hev men enough to make a picket fence about them. We can hardly set about it too soon, cap. Thur a movin' torst the edge yander."

"Yes, my lad; out on the watter," said the farmer; "and that med me say to mysen: What's any one doing wi' a light out on the watter at this time? and I could on'y think as they wanted it to set fire to some one's plaace, and I couldn't stop abed and think that. So I got up, and went down to the shore, got into my owd punt, and loosed her, and went out torst wheer I'd seen the light."

Thar it is, makin' the handle o' the Plough, or the Great Bar, as I've heern that colleckshin o' stars freekwently called. We've only to keep it on our left, a leetle torst the back o' the shoulder, an' then we're boun' to bring out on some o' the head-forks o' the Red if we kin only last long enough to reach 'em. Darn it! thar's no danger; an' anyhow, thar's no help for't but try. Come along!"

"I'm glad to hear you talk that way. If we kin but git a wheen o' miles atween us an' them yelpin' savages, we may hev a chance o' salvation yit. The wust o' the thing air, that we don't know which way to go. It's a toss up 'tween 'em. If we turn back torst the Canadyen, we may meet 'em agin, an' right in the teeth.

"In coorse I duz that for sartin'. The feelin's I hev torst that gurl air diffrent to them as one hez for Injun squaws, or the queeries I've danced wi' in the fandangoes o' San Antone. Ef she'll agree to be myen, I meen nothin' short o' the hon'rable saramony o' marridge same as atween man an' wife. What do ye think o't?" "I think, Walt, you might do worse than get married.

I asked. "Well Su-wa-nee says that the carryvan's broke up into two." "Ha!" "One helf o' it, wi' the dragoons, hes turned south, torst Santa Fe; the other, which air all Mormons, hev struck off northardly, by a different pass, an' on a trail thet makes for thar new settlements on Salt Lake." "There's not much news in that. We had anticipated something of the kind?" "But thar's worse, capt'n."

"Thet, Mr Wilton, 'ud be jest the way to defeet all our plans an' purpisses. They'd see us long afore we ked git sight o' them, an' maybe in time to run off all the stolen hosses an' cattle, but sartinly the keptyves." "What's your way, Cully?" interrogates a lieutenant of the Rangers. "My way air to wait till the sun go down, then steal torst 'm.

"The direction happened to be that that led torst the camp, half a mile off; but thur wur a tree nearer, on the side o' the hill. Ef I kud reach that, I knowd I 'ud be safe enuf, as the grizzly bar it don't climb. "For the fust hundred yards I never looked round; then I only squinted back, runnin' all the while.

"Thur waunt no kiver near them not a stick, for the parairy wur as bar as yur hand; so I seed, at a glimp, it 'ud be no use a tryin' to approach, unless I tuk some plan to decoy the critters. "I soon thort o' a dodge, an' went back to camp for my blanket, which wur a red Mackinaw. This I knew 'ud be the very thing to fool the goats with, an' I set out torst them.