LIGE MOUNTS 
 
 RAPPER 
 
 Frank B. 
 Linderman 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 OF 
 
BY FRANK B. LINDERMAN 
 
 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Illustrated by Joe de Long 
 
 INDIAN WHY STORIES 
 
 Sparks from War Eagle's Lodge-Fire 
 
 Illustrated by C. M. Russell 
 
 INDIAN OLD-MAN STORIES 
 
 More Sparks from War Eagle's Lodge-Fire 
 Illustrated by C. M. Russell 
 
 HOW IT CAME ABOUT STORIES 
 
 Illustrated by Carle Michel Boog 
 
 BUNCH-GRASS AND BLUE- JOINT 
 
 ON A PASSING FRONTIER 
 Sketches from the Northwest 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
There never was another such a morning 
 
 [Page 150 
 
 \ I 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: 
 FREE TRAPPER 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK B. LINDERMAN 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOE DE YONG 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
TO MY DAUGHTER 
 
 VERNE 
 
 WHO INSISTED THAT 
 
 LIGE MOUNTS 
 TELL HIS OWN STORY 
 
 M627144 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 I came to Montana Territory when I was a boy. 
 The country was wild, and essentially a land of 
 youth. Men referred to as "old Bill" or "old 
 Hank" were often in their prime, and proud of 
 their strength and fitness. Their ways were those 
 of a wilderness unspoiled, and primitiveness tradi- 
 tional, a proof of character. An extra blanket or 
 frying-pan in their meagre packs was disgraceful, 
 and in the eyes of his fellows lessened the possessor's 
 worth as a "good man." The life they led fasci- 
 nated me, and I became a trapper with them, my 
 partner being a man who had grown gray in the 
 wilderness. He felt a pride in owning a fast horse, a 
 dead-centre rifle, the shortest camp-equipment, and 
 the scantiest bed-roll in the Territory; and nothing 
 stirred him as did the sight of a fence. I shall 
 never forget his displeasure and chagrin when he 
 learned that Montana had ceased to be a Territory 
 and had become a State in the Union. "Now she's 
 gone to hell for keeps," he sighed. And I believed 
 him. 
 
 He knew the ways of the Indian, and through 
 him I became the Indian's friend, learning more 
 than he had known of their customs and beliefs; al- 
 though after so many years of acquaintance the 
 Indian remains to me still a man of mystery. 
 
 In this book I have sought to tell of life in the 
 very early days of the fur trade on the upper Mis- 
 souri River, and to show something of the real cus- 
 toms of both the white and red men who lived on 
 
 vii 
 
viii FOREWORD 
 
 the plains. I am indebted to Captain H. M. Chit- 
 tenden's " History of the American Fur Trade" for 
 many historical facts, especially for the details of 
 the quarrel between the partners, Fink, Talbot, and 
 Carpenter. The words of the voyageur's song and 
 the " Notice to Enterprising Young Men" have been 
 taken from that work verbatim. 
 
 For proof that the Hudson's Bay Company prac- 
 tised questionable methods in dealing with com- 
 petitors, I refer the reader to the "Journals of Cap- 
 tain Palliser" (1857), and to "Three Years Among 
 the Mexicans and Indians," by General Thomas 
 James (1846). 
 
 In order to give the reader an idea of the dignity 
 with which the old-tune Indian conversed, I have 
 assumed that in speaking the Cree language, which 
 he had learned perfectly, or in translating conver- 
 sations from the Cree, Lige Mounts used nearly 
 perfect English. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 There never was another such a morning . . . Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 I yelled with the rest and rode inside 102 
 
 Out on a knoll-top under the stars Mac began to sing 
 
 Cree 164 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 I don't remember much about my parents. They 
 both died when I was little. My mother died first ; 
 but I was so young I don't remember her at all. 
 Then when I was six years old my father was 
 struck by lightning. I remember that, and how 
 scared I was when the men packed him in out of 
 the dark woods and the rain. The men was drip- 
 ping wet so wet the water from their boots left 
 blotches on the puncheon floor between the door and 
 the bed where they laid father. And where Lafe 
 Daws stood, near the foot of the bed, his clothes 
 dripped a regular puddle that ran through the 
 cracks in the floor. I remember I thought it would 
 be fine to be as wet as that. 
 
 Lafe Daws said, "He's done for, I reckon," and 
 when he moved a little, another puddle begun to 
 grow about his boots. Then the lightning flashed 
 right with an awful clap of thunder, and Lafe Daws 
 dodged like somebody had struck at him; and I 
 crawled under the bed. My! how the rain poured 
 down ! And how dark it was in the house ! I cried 
 from fright. But whenever there was a flash of 
 lightning, and that was right often, I could see the 
 big boots and the puddles through my tears. 
 
 I was under the bed when Aunt Lib came. She 
 was my mother's sister. And that night I went to 
 live with her and Uncle Eldin Muzzey. I slept with 
 my cousin Eben, who was only four years old ; and 
 all night he laid crosswise of the bed; and the 
 
 1 
 
2 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 neighbors was coming and going between our house 
 and Aunt Lib's. 
 
 The next morning I saw our clock and a candle- 
 stick and a picture piled on Aunt Lib's table in her 
 house. "Them's ours," I told her, right scornful, 
 I reckon. But she only sighed, and kissed me on 
 the cheek. "Yes," she said, "they're ours yers 
 and mine, for ye're goin' to be my little boy now." 
 
 That was in Kentucky ; but the next spring Uncle 
 Eldin and Aunt Lib moved west, and I went along 
 with them. 
 
 I don't remember much of the journey, nor how 
 long it took us to reach Coon Creek, where Uncle 
 Eldin took up land and settled. It was fall before 
 we got moved into the cabin, which was built about 
 thirty yards from the creek; and winter come on by 
 the time a decent patch of land had been cleared 
 for a garden in the spring. 
 
 The cabin wa'n't much, but Uncle Eldin said it 
 would have to do for a spell; and right away Aunt 
 Lib begun to plan on the new house. She used to 
 talk a heap about it at first, and I reckon she ac- 
 tually lived in it, too. And it done her good, mebby, 
 but it didn't last. She'd slave to lay by a little to- 
 wards it, always talking about the raising and the 
 neighbors that would be on hand to he'p when the 
 time come; but strive as she might, poverty hov- 
 ered about us like a shadow, and whenever her sav- 
 ings had growed to a worth-while, something she'd 
 never thought of would romp in and carry them off 
 long 'fore the amount was big enough to warrant 
 even a beginning. And the children kept coming, 
 too; so that when I was eleven there was six, the 
 oldest nine years; and them having to be fed and 
 clothed made it all the harder to save. Aunt Lib's 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 3 
 
 savings jar was mighty nigh always empty now, 
 and at last she give up ever having a new house. 
 
 The vines, as if to make it up to her, kept grow- 
 ing higher and higher over the little porch we'd 
 added to the old cabin ; and each fall when the hick- 
 ory leaves turned yellow Uncle Eldin or me re- 
 daubed the cracks between the rough logs to make 
 the place snug for winter. 
 
 Nobody worked harder than Uncle Eldin. I 
 he'ped him all I could from the beginning, and we'd 
 cleared quite a piece by the time I was twelve 
 cleared and fenced it, so that there was always crop 
 enough, but no money. Each year we added to the 
 clearing, too, pushing back the timber and grub- 
 bing and plowing from daylight to plumb dark, just 
 him and me. 
 
 There was a grist-mill at Coon Creek Crossing*, 
 and a store and a blacksmith shop, and quite a vil- 
 lage besides. Then there was the church where we 
 come sometimes of Sundays to hear Joshua Moulds, 
 the circuit rider, preach. I never let Aunt Lib 
 know but I never liked to go, myse'f , because it 
 seemed like Joshua Moulds never let people go home 
 happy if he could he'p it. I'd heered him say God 
 was love more'n once, but he never preached about 
 that only hell-fire and damnation. It seemed right 
 queer that Moulds didn't preach more about good 
 things and let the bad rest up. But he never did. 
 
 Coon Creek Crossing was four miles from our 
 place; and when I was eleven Mrs. Hawkins' 
 brother come there from Virginia. His name was 
 Abner Hastings, and he was a schoolmaster. Right 
 away Aunt Lib got me ready to go to school. That 
 winter and the next I walked 'most every day to 
 the Crossing, as we called it, and went to school 
 
4 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 there with some other boys and girls. The oldest 
 was nigh to twenty and I was the youngest of the 
 lot. 
 
 Abner Hastings was a good man, and I liked him 
 from the start. He was tall and thin and had a 
 mighty bad cough that used to nigh wear him out 
 at times. Folks said he had lung trouble, and I 
 reckon he had. But he liked birds an^ flowers, and 
 that made me and him right friendly. It was him 
 that gave me Biddle's book about Captain Lewis 
 and Captain Clark and their trip up the Missouri 
 river. 
 
 I read it through at least a dozen times till I 
 knowed it 'most by heart. Aunt Lib read it too, 
 but she said it was trash, mostly, and lies that a boy 
 never ought to read. It fretted her so, I took the 
 book back to Abner Hastings after a while; and he 
 was glad to get it, I reckon, for books was mighty 
 scarce. 
 
 Just above us on Coon Creek about three miles 
 was the Byers' place. "The Plantation," we called 
 it. Nobody liked Caley Byers very well, and no- 
 body knowed much about him or his family. They 
 had a passel of slaves and come from further south, 
 folks said, and I reckon that was true. But none 
 of the Byerses ever talked about their past or the 
 place they come from to anybody, far as I know. 
 They considered themse'fs real quality-folks, and 
 mebby they was. But nobody ever come to the 
 plantation to visit a spell from further south, nor 
 the Byerses folks didn't go away from Coon Creek. 
 That was talked about some, for most folks hold a 
 hankering for old friends and old home-places ; but 
 Caley Byers didn't seem to have any. Leastways 
 he never showed it if he did. Some folks even 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 5 
 
 hinted there was reasons why the Byerses never 
 had no visitors nor went back to their old home. 
 There was a yarn that was supposed to have been 
 told by an old slave that died on the Plantation 
 quite a time before we come to live on Coon Creek. 
 And there was a woman in it, of course. But long 
 before I left, the garbled story was plumb wore out, 
 and, as nothing had been added to it since the old 
 nigger died, it wa'n't far from being dead itse'f. 
 The other slaves never talked nor told anything, 
 if they had anything to tell. But nobody liked 
 Caley Byers. And I didn't. I had my own rea- 
 sons not borrowed ones either. 
 
 A little more'n half way between our place and 
 Coon Creek Crossing there was a small cleared 
 piece that folks called Dan's Clearing. Nobody 
 knowed who Dan had been; and only a deserted 
 cabin with a broken door was left to prove there 
 ever was such a man as Dan. I used to like to go 
 there, and once I found an old bullet-mould in the 
 fireplace of the rickety cabin. I prized my find 
 above everything I possessed, which wa'n't much. 
 
 There was a trail that followed along Coon Creek 
 clean to the Crossing and beyond. It mighty sel- 
 dom left the stream and even crossed it several 
 times where the way was bad, just to get to stay 
 by it, I reckon. It was longer than the wagon road, 
 quite a little, but when I went to the Crossing afoot, 
 which I mostly did, I took the Coon Creek trail be- 
 cause I liked it better than the stumpy wagon road. 
 It was an old deer trail and wa'n't made by men 
 nor laid out to save time. 
 
 There was a bad place on the trail, made by a 
 swamp fed from springs at the head of Dan's Clear- 
 ing; and there the old deer-trail, using the swamp 
 
6 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 as an excuse, turned sharp and cut straight across 
 the cleared piece. Somebody had cut a big tree and 
 layed a log on the lower side at the bad place, and 
 while that he'ped some, it made the trail mighty 
 narrow for the length of the log. 
 
 One day I was coming home from school, afoot, of 
 course, and I had Jeff Hawkins* spelling book under 
 my arm. Just as I got to the bad place in the trail, 
 here come Caley Byers a-hoss-back, and he made 
 out like he didn't see me ; but I saw him see me 
 when he made the sharp turn. I turned out as far 
 as I could without stepping off into the creek to let 
 him by, but just at the narrowest place he pulled 
 his hoss over sudden, and crowded me into the 
 water. Crackey! but I was mad. I picked up a 
 stone and let him have it. It hit him in the back 
 and he turned and come at me. But I was in the 
 creek, and I rocked him good and plenty till he quit. 
 He didn't speak to me, nor I to him. I just pegged 
 him good and he rode off. He never did tell it; nor 
 neither did I. Most likely he was ashamed to. But 
 I got water on Jeff Hawkins' spelling book and give 
 him my bullet-mould to make it up to him, though 
 I didn't reckon he cared much about the book. I 
 never had liked Caley Byers, because other folks 
 didn't; but now I hated him on my own account. 
 
 I don't know if it was that Biddle's book, but 
 from the time I went to school to Abner Hastings I 
 begun to wish I was a man, and I wished it hard. 
 I only went part of two seasons, for Abner Hast- 
 ings died. And then I wished I'd kept the Biddle 
 book more'n ever. 
 
 I growed pretty fast. Hard work didn't hurt 
 me; and when I was eighteen I was right close to 
 six feet and about as thick's your finger, though 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 7 
 
 straight, I reckon, as anybody. But I knowed I 
 looked a heap older'n I was. One winter I split 
 rails for Mr. Hawkins at the crossing and earned a 
 rifle. It was brand new and though I didn't call it 
 mine, exactly, I was mighty proud of it. I fetched 
 it home, and Uncle Eldin used it as much as I did; 
 but I always had turned whatever I could earn to 
 Aunt Lib ; and so Uncle Eldin reckoned the weapon 
 Was part his, and it was. He had a rifle, but it 
 wa'n't half the gun that the new one was. And so 
 his didn't get much use or attention. I tell you, I 
 was proud of that rifle, and every flint I had was a 
 picked one. I reckon I found more pleasure in run- 
 ning bullets for that gun than in any other thing 
 that and reading a newspaper Mr. Hawkins give 
 me at the Crossing once when I went there with a 
 grist of corn. 
 
 The paper was a copy of the Missouri Gazette, 
 and it had a story in it about a bad fight General 
 Ashley had with the Arickara Indians 'way up the 
 river. I fetched the paper home and hid it in a 
 box under the bed. I was ashamed to hide it; but 
 everything about Indians fretted Aunt Lib, and so 
 I hid it. I bet I knowed that story by heart before 
 Aunt Lib found the paper. She give it back, scold- 
 ing a little about lies and foolish boys. She wa'n't 
 very big not up to my shoulder then but she 
 thought she'd ought to scold me, I reckon. Many a 
 night after they was all asleep I lit a tallow dip and 
 re-read that story not because I needed to, but be- 
 cause I was glad I had it and could read. 
 
 My cousin Eben was most as big as I was now, 
 and strong as an ox. And Charles, too, had growed 
 to be a big stout boy. Besides, the girls could he'p 
 Aunt Lib a lot. And I begun to figure I wa'n't 
 
8 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 needed much and that mine was another mouth to 
 feed. I'd set sometimes in Dan's Clearing on the 
 way to the mill and wonder if the wild country 
 would all be gone before I got to see it. I had spoke 
 about me doing something for myse'f a heap of 
 times, but Aunt Lib always made a fuss when I 
 did. "The place is plenty big enough, Lige," she'd 
 say, "an* ye're too young yit." Or, "Ye been readin' 
 more of that trash in that paper. I wished you'd 
 never fetched it home." 
 
 I didn't like to fret her, but I did wa*nt to start 
 out for myse'f and mebby he'p her and Uncle Eldin 
 in the end. I couldn't see any chance to he'p them 
 where I was; and every time I dreamed of doing 
 for myse'f it had to do with making up to Aunt Lib 
 and Uncle Eldin for being good to me. But 'twa'n't 
 no use to talk to Aunt Lib about it. 
 
 One day I was plowing corn. It was June and 
 the air was still, and sweet with the breath of grow- 
 ing things in the sunshine. Bees hummed straight 
 across the field to Aunt Lib's hive behind the house, 
 plumb loaded down with the sweet of flowers. And 
 the perfume from the big lilac bush by the gate 
 come clear over to where I was at work. Every 
 live thing was happy, and busy too, either working 
 or playing. If old Becky hadn't knowed her busi- 
 ness I'd sure plowed up the corn watching things 
 that was glad they was alive. I remember two 
 gray squirrels chasing each other up one tree and 
 down another, chattering and blackguarding awful. 
 Finally they come tearing across the field, so blind 
 in their play that they run plumb under Becky and 
 over into the yard where the hounds was sleeping. 
 Then one of them climbed the big shag-bark hickory 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 9 
 
 near the house and begun to bark at the dogs, qua- 
 qua-quaa ! like he wanted to drive them away. The 
 other squirrel wa'n't so brash, and I don't know 
 where he went. The fellow in the tree scolded and 
 barked quite a while, but the dogs didn't wake or 
 notice. I had just turned old Becky at the end of 
 a row or she turned herse'f ; and as I caught the 
 flash of Aunt Lib's red peonies in the yard, I heered 
 the gate creak on its wooden hinges. That set off 
 both the dogs. Bristling and barking like hounds 
 can, they made a rush for the gate, where I saw 
 Caley Byers getting down off his hoss. Then Aunt 
 Lib run out of the house. "You Bugle ! come back 
 yer ! Bing ! Bing ! Back with ye !" she called, and 
 ran down towards the gate to meet Byers, wiping 
 her hands on her apron as she went. 
 
 Both hounds was friendly, but any good hound 
 will bark. I saw that Caley Byers was squared 
 off to meet them and was looking ornery; although 
 Bugle was wagging his tail, and neither him nor 
 Bing was bristled then. Bugle was a cripple. He 
 only had three legs, having lost one in a trap when 
 he was a pup. He was my dog, and was friendly 
 to everybody. He tried to welcome Byers in good 
 earnest now; but the ornery trash kicked him, and 
 he went yelping back to the house. I didn't hear 
 what Byers was saying to Aunt Lib; but when he 
 kicked Bugle that way for nothing like he did, all 
 my old dislike for the man come loping back, and I 
 was mad clean through. I wrapped the lines 
 around the plow-handles and went down there. 
 
 I reckon I was expected anyway, for Aunt Lib 
 with her hand shading her eyes was watching me. 
 And so was Caley Byers. 
 
 He didn't wait for me to say a 'howdy/ but 
 
10 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 pitched right in. "I want you to keep your damned 
 hawgs off my place," he says, lashing his boots with 
 a riding whip. I wa'n't within decent talking dis- 
 tance even. His chin was stuck out ornery-like, 
 and there was a sneer on his face that would have 
 kept a kitten away from milk. 
 
 "Hear me?" he says, louder'n ever. 
 
 All the meanness in me come a-surging up and I 
 could feel my hair prickle with it. But I hobbled 
 it quick. 
 
 "Yes, sir," I says. "I hear you right plain. But 
 when did our hawgs bother you?" 
 
 "Bother me!" he bellered. "Bother me! Why, 
 last night and every night. I won't put up with it 
 another minute. I'll have them killed, every damn- 
 ed one." 
 
 "Well," I says, "kill all the hawgs you've a mind 
 to for all o* me, 'cause our hawgs ain't bothered you 
 none. All we got is a sow an' seven pigs a week 
 old. I don't reckon they're able to travel so far as 
 your place yet." 
 
 I see him weaken plain. I reckon he believed me 
 all right, but he wa'n't the man to admit he was 
 wrong. 
 
 "They are your hawgs !" he says, making the dust 
 fly out of his boot with his whip. "They are your 
 hawgs, and you know it. And you will " 
 
 I stepped up right close. "That's all right, Caley 
 Byers," I says, "but kickin' Bugle the way you-all 
 did, ain't all right. That hound is mine, and he's a 
 cripple-dawg with only three laigs. I don't 'low 
 folks to abuse him no time. He never harmed no 
 person, an' he never will." 
 
 Cracky! he was mad. "He'll never harm me, if 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 11 
 
 I can catch him off this place once," he cried. "1*11 
 kill him on sight. Hear me?" 
 
 I knowed I was mighty nigh a fuss, but I kept 
 hold of myse'f . "I reckon you'd best do the hawg- 
 killin', Caley Byers," I says. And I looked him 
 square in the eyes, so's he'd know I wa'n't fooling. 
 
 Then I waited a bit, for it seemed to me it was 
 his say; but he begun to back towards his hoss; and 
 old Becky getting nervous and fighting flies, I went 
 back to the corn. 
 
 Byers was muttering to himse'f when he got on 
 and rode off. And I saw Aunt Lib shut the gate 
 and go back to the house. I knowed she was plumb 
 scared and fretting, for she was always afraid of 
 Caley Byers, somehow. He was so high and mighty, 
 I reckon. 
 
 I fixed myse'f for a scolding. I never said noth- 
 ing to Aunt Lib when she scolded me, 'cause I 
 knowed she was trying to do right by me, and 
 everybody else, for that matter. But when at noon 
 I went to the house for dinner, she didn't say a 
 word. I knowed she'd told Uncle Eldin, though. I 
 could tell by his looks; but he never mentioned it 
 and neither did I. All he said was, "How's the co'n 
 looking, Lige?" 
 
 I told him it would make a good crop, I reckoned, 
 and that I was nigh done plowing. 
 
 Somehow my little rucus with Caley Byers made 
 me want to get away and do for myse'f more'n ever. 
 I was nigh to nineteen and living with other folks 
 yet. It didn't seem right. Something inside me 
 kept saying, "Tell 'em you're going to strike out." 
 But I waited till dinner was pretty nigh over ; then 
 I said: 
 
 "Uncle Eldin, don't you-all reckon I'd best be up 
 
12 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 and doing for myse'f ? I'm goin' on for nineteen 
 now and can take care of myse'f. You and Aunt 
 Lib's been powerful good to me, and some day I'll 
 shore make it up to you. But the work's about 
 done, and when it's finished I'd just like to have a 
 look 'round a spell. I've said so before, but you and 
 Aunt Lib reckoned I was too young. Eben's 'most 
 a man, an' can do a man's work a'ready." 
 
 "Now Lige, I wished you-all wouldn't talk that a- 
 way," Aunt Lib said, brushing back her hair like 
 she was scared. I knowed just what she would say 
 every word ; and so I says : 
 
 "But Aunt Lib, I figure I have been about worth 
 my board and keep up to now. You-all won't need 
 me after this crop's plowed, and the garden weeded. 
 I just itch to be a-findin' a place for myse'f. And 
 I've sure got it to do before I get too old to want 
 to." 
 
 I see I was fretting her again, and I quit. But 
 she says, "You talk to him, Eldin. You're a man, 
 and mebby he'll listen to you." 
 
 I knowed she was scared I'd go up the river. I 
 knowed too she'd talked a heap about it to Uncle 
 Eldin. 
 
 "Better stay where you be till you find some good 
 chance, Lige," he said, shoving his chair back from 
 the table. "I don't figger you owe us anything, 
 boy not a red cent," he says. "You've been a big 
 he'p to me, and I don't know what I'd a-done with- 
 out you. When the time comes for you to go, I 
 won't lay a straw in your way, no matter where it 
 p'ints, so long's it's honest." Then he got up for 
 his hat and went back to the timber where he was 
 splitting rails for fencing. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 13 
 
 Cracky ! There didn't seem to be any use to talk, 
 and I sure did hate to fret Aunt Lib. 
 
 I set there a spell, thinking hard. I could see the 
 big lilac bush, all full of purple blossoms, and the 
 cornfield, and the garden, and the wood pile, and 
 Aunt Lib's flowers and vines. What a change we'd 
 made there in the wilderness with two axes and a 
 team since we settled on Coon Creek. It had all 
 took work. And there'd always been the struggle 
 with poverty, ever since I could remember. My 
 mind run on back to chore days and follered along 
 to that very day. I was right sure I hadn't shirked 
 none nor bothered only mebby fretting Aunt Lib 
 with my talk. Many a time when Uncle Eldin 
 could spare me I'd split rails or cut cord-wood for 
 Hawkins, the storekeeper at the Crossing, and never 
 once kept a red cent of what I'd earned. Well, 
 once, mebby I did, but it was winter time, and Mor- 
 gan Jackson didn't have no money, noway. I cut 
 eight cords of wood for him. He give me a silver 
 ring to pay for it, and I kept it for myse'f . It had 
 a shield engraved on it, and was mighty pretty. 
 But mostly I'd always turned everything over to 
 Aunt Lib, though I knowed it wa'n't a heap. I 
 was glad I'd done it, too I'd always a heap ruther 
 work than be idle; for of late when I was loafing I 
 couldn't keep from thinking of the wild country up 
 the big river. And I was mighty afraid it would 
 all be spoiled before I got to it. Eben was stout as 
 I was, and about all the land Uncle Eldin could 
 handle had been cleared ; or I wouldn't have thought 
 of going away. It didn't seem as though I could 
 stay much longer. And now it was June two days 
 ago another June would soon be gone. 
 
 Aunt Lib got up and begun to pick the dishes 
 
14 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 from the table. She knowed what I was thinking. 
 So I went 'round the house to where Bugle was lay- 
 ing to see if he was hurt much. 
 
 Soon's I showed up he come to me, whimpering 
 and limping, though I see right away he was mak- 
 ing believe a lot so's I'd pet him. I talked to him 
 a spell and then went back to my plowing. 
 
 I finished the corn a good half hour before sun- 
 down, and right away I got to thinking again of 
 the upper Missouri river country. I tended to old 
 Becky and then went to the house. 
 
 I stopped outside to wash up, figuring how to go 
 to talking to Aunt Lib and not get her started fuss- 
 ing against me going away. It had clouded up a 
 little, so I said it looked some like it would rain. 
 
 "Wished it would rain cats and dogs," she says. 
 "It's been so hot all day I cain't seem to get a 
 breath to breathe. Supper's all ready soon's Eldin 
 comes. Here he is now. Hurry and git washed, 
 Eldin. Everything'll get cold as stones." 
 
 "Bet we can eat it, hot or cold, cain't we, Lige?" 
 he laughed. And I felt mighty glad neither seemed 
 anxious to talk about me going away. He rolled up 
 his sleeves, good-natured-like and says, "Never did 
 see so many squirrels as they is this year. Must 
 have been more'n a dozen in sight at one time over 
 yonder where I was working to-day." 
 
 "There is a right smart of 'em," I told him. I 
 wanted to keep 'em going. So I says, "That old 
 hen-turkey that Mrs. Hawkins give Aunt Lib's a- 
 nestin' in that hazel thicket down by the little 
 spring. I've seen her go in there twice now of 
 mornings." 
 
 That fetched Aunt Lib into the talk again. "I 
 been missin' her," she says, coming to the door. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 15 
 
 "The huzzey! So that's where she's a-stealin' her 
 nest. I'll just have to ferrit her out of there or 
 some varmit'll get her shore 'nuff. Land of mas- 
 sey! if it ain't one thing it's another, and no rest 
 between 'em. Hurry, Eldin! My land!" 
 
 After supper there was chores to do; but when 
 they was done I couldn't he'p getting my paper out 
 of the box under my bed. It was nigh three 
 months old a'ready, dated April, 1822. But it was 
 always new to me. I read the story again. And 
 long after they was all asleep I blowed out the tal- 
 low dip and got into my bed to dream. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 It rained during the night, but when morning 
 come there wa'n't a sign of a cloud nowhere. Every- 
 thing was fresh and smelled good, and I was mighty 
 glad, for the young corn needed a wetting. I 'lowed 
 to he'p Uncle Eldin over in the timber that day ; but 
 when we got set down to the breakfast table, Aunt 
 Lib said, "Somebody's got to take a grist o* co'n to 
 the mill, or we'll be plumb out o' meal soon. To- 
 day's as good's any to go, too. Lige, I wished you'd 
 go. A body cain't feed folks without somethin' in 
 the house." 
 
 I reckon she'd got used to me going, instead of 
 Eben or Charles. Having been to school there reg- 
 ular when Abner Hastings was living, I'd got to 
 know folks pretty well, so I brought home more 
 news than the boys would, mebby. Anyway, she 
 mostly sent me ; and I was glad of it. 
 
 "I'll go, Aunt Lib," I told her, "unless Uncle Eldin 
 wants me at somethin' else worse." 
 
 "Might's well go, Lige," Uncle said. "You can 
 ride Becky." 
 
 But old Becky needed a rest from the spring 
 work, so I decided to go afoot. I mighty soon 
 found a good sack and filled it nigh half full of corn. 
 Then I divided the grain and swung the sack over 
 my shoulder I reckoned I'd take the rifle too, and 
 I did. 
 
 I'd no sooner stepped 'round the corner of the 
 cabin, when Bugle spied the gun, and right away 
 he forgot Caley Byers' kick. He wa'n't lame at all, 
 and he fell in behind my heels, whining and carry- 
 
 16 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 17 
 
 ing on. Cracky ! I sure thought a heap of that old 
 hound. 
 
 In a minute I was on the Coon Creek trail, and 
 Bugle begun ranging a little, snuffing and making 
 out he was mighty busy I let him, for I was sure 
 there hadn't been a varmi't there for a spell and 
 besides it had just rained. I didn't 'low to let him 
 take up a trail, for sure as he did I'd never get to 
 the mill; so I watched him nosing ahead of me and 
 on both sides, intending to stop him if he got a 
 fresh trail. 
 
 The woods smelled sweet as honey and all along 
 the creek was flowers a-plenty, and birds too. I 
 got to thinking of the upper river, and I reckon 
 dreaming, too; for directly, Bowoo-oo! I heered old 
 Bugle, and so durn far away I couldn't make him 
 hear me, either. Cracky! I was mad mad at him 
 and mad at myse'f . I knowed he'd never quit now, 
 so all I could do was to let him go and forget him 
 till he come in. And I did. But I kept hearing 
 his voice baying 'way off in the timber for a long 
 spell, getting fainter and fainter, till finally I 
 couldn't hear him no more. 
 
 The bushes that had growed up in Dan's Clearing 
 was plumb full of birds, when I got there all sing- 
 ing their thanks for the rain. Brown thrushes, 
 robins, and catbirds, too, made mighty sweet music 
 in the sunlight that was a heap brighter there be- 
 cause of Dan's axe. A little ornery wren with his 
 tail pretty nigh touching his pert little head warbled 
 his sharp song over and over again from the broken 
 door of the old cabin, while just under the edge of 
 the pole roof his mate sat on her nest listening to 
 him. 
 
 A big tree had fallen and laid on one side of the 
 clearing about thirty yards from the trail, its rag- 
 
18 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 ged roots full of chunks of clay and looking like a 
 turkey-tail fan. On top of one of the crookedest 
 roots was a squirrel looking sharp at the trunk of 
 the tree, or something I couldn't see. He was so 
 stiff and still that at first I thought mebby I was 
 fooled ; but directly he run down onto the trunk and 
 up pretty well towards its middle, where he stopped 
 and begun to bark and scold like fury. Qua-qua- 
 quaa! Qua-qua-quaa ! he said, flipping his tail like 
 he wanted to drive something away from there. 
 Then all of a sudden, like his own daring had scared 
 him to fits, he turned and scampered off like all get 
 out. 
 
 I started to see what it was that he wanted to 
 scare. But just as I headed that way an old owl 
 flew out of some bushes near there with a rabbit 
 in his claws. So I didn't go no further. 
 
 But if I'd knowed then what I know now well, 
 like as not I wouldn't have looked, noway but I 
 sure wouldn't be telling this story. 
 
 A kernel of corn had got into my boot and was 
 hurting my foot, so I leaned the rifle against the 
 cabin and set down on a stump to pull off the boot. 
 Then, after I got out the kernel of corn, I saw there 
 was a little hole in the sack. So I mended that and 
 rested before I went on. 
 
 The grist mill at the Crossing was the most im- 
 portant of the village institutions ; and its big, over- 
 shot water wheel was turning right merry. I could 
 hear the water splash as it fell from its paddles, 
 and the clang of Mat Walker's hammer in his black- 
 smith shop aross the road from Hawkins' store, 
 before I could see either of them. They was about 
 the only noise Coon Creek Crossing owned, any- 
 way, and I always liked to hear them. 
 
 There was other visitors in town besides me. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 19 
 
 Several saddle bosses was tied to the hitch rack in 
 the street. So as soon's I took my corn to the mill 
 I went over to the Hawkins' store to get the news, 
 if there was any. Aunt Lib would want to know 
 what was going on, and besides I liked to hear what 
 folks had to say, myse'f . 
 
 There was seven or eight men in the store, setting 
 on barrels and on the counter. Caley Byers was 
 one of them, and he was reading aloud about another 
 big rucus up the river. I found a place on the 
 counter where I could hear good and listen with 
 the rest. 
 
 It had been a bad row, and again the whitemen 
 had got the worst of it. The story was told by 
 one of the wounded trappers that had been fetched 
 into St. Louis more'n a month after the fight. 
 
 There was another story in the paper that Caley 
 Byers read, and I heered all that one. It said Gen- 
 eral Ashley was back in St. Louis. The General 
 had told a lot more about the fight that was 
 in the paper under my bed. He said in that 
 row he'd lost a keel boat loaded with ten thou- 
 sand dollars' worth of trade goods, besides a passel 
 of men. The part that I liked best was where the 
 General told about the country up the river. 
 Cracky ! I did like that part. But finally it was all 
 told and Caley Byers folded up the newspaper and 
 put it in his pocket. I wished I could borrow it a 
 spell; but I'd rot before I'd ask him to lend it. 
 Though I reckon if he'd offered to let me take it, I'd 
 a-f orgive him for kicking Bugle, and even crowding 
 me off'n the trail, mebby. Most likely he never 
 thought of it; but I did, a little. 
 
 Mr. Hawkins weighed out some tea for Caley 
 Byers, and while Hawkins' back was turned I saw 
 his boy Jeff take a hank of tobacco. I reckoned I 
 
20 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 could have made him give me back the bullet-mould 
 then, but I didn't. Both the men was talking about 
 the upper country and the fight. Mr. Hawkins 
 said, "I don't know's I blame them Injins a great 
 sight for fightin'. The country's theirs, an' they'll 
 be drove out of it soon enough, anyway. I'd fight, 
 too, if I was an Injin." Then he weighed out some 
 sugar for his customer and added, "But, right or 
 wrong, if I was young, I'd j'ine up with one of them 
 trappin' an' tradin' parties. But I'm past that now. 
 It's a young man's country, I reckon." 
 
 "Yes, you and I are too old, Hawkins," Caley 
 Byers said, but as though he was satisfied. "It's a 
 land for the young a rich land and wild. It will be 
 wild for a long time yet. And as it opens up St. 
 Louis will grow to be a big city, mark my words. 
 For all the trade of that great wilderness must come 
 to her as it develops." 
 
 He leaned against the counter, facing me; but he 
 made out he didn't see me, like he did that morning 
 on the trail, so I didn't even nod nor say liowdy' to 
 him. 
 
 By and by Mat Walker, the blacksmith, come in 
 to get some borax, and right away Caley Byers said, 
 "I must get my hoss shod, Mat. I 'most forgot it." 
 
 Then him and Mat went out, and I saw Caley 
 Byers lead his saddle-hoss to the blacksmith shop. 
 
 Mr. Hawkins asked about Aunt Lib and Uncle 
 Eldin, like he always did, and I bought some pow- 
 der and lead; for I'd plumb made up my mind. I 
 shook hands with Mr. Hawkins and said, "Good-bye 
 for a spell." 
 
 It surprised him, I reckon, and he asked me if I 
 was going somewheres. I told him I was going to 
 have a look around for myse'f soon's the work was 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 21 
 
 finished, and that it was mighty nigh done a'ready. 
 
 "Take keer o' yourse'f ," he says, "an* come back 
 yer' sometime. I wished JefFd spruce up an' try 
 to do something 'sides loaf 'round the store where I 
 don't need him." 
 
 Right away I felt better'n I had for a year. I 
 knowed I was doing right. And when I got my 
 sack of meal I flung it over my shoulder and struck 
 out for home lickety-split. 
 
 The big river was high now, I knowed, and I 
 was afraid it wouldn't stay up till I got there. Out- 
 fits would be setting out for the upper country only 
 as long as the river was high, and I was afraid I'd 
 be late. 
 
 It's mighty good to get your mind made up to 
 something that's been pestering. I never knowed it 
 before then; but ever since then I've tried to go 
 into camp with a question and settle it quick as I 
 can, for while its teetering around in your mind 
 you ain't fit for much. Most always you do just 
 what you first thought you would, anyway, because 
 you're mighty nigh sure to measure the sides of a 
 question soon's it comes to you and better'n you 
 think you do, too. 
 
 I was sweating like a nigger when I got to Dan's 
 Clearing, and I stopped and shifted the sack of 
 meal. But I didn't stop long. The sun was pretty 
 low, so I hurried on. 
 
 It was still as death in the Clearing. The shad- 
 ows of the tallest trees reached mighty nigh to 
 the middle of it. I saw the old root again, but 
 there wa'n't no squirrel on it this time. A rabbit 
 bobbed across the trail ahead to find a better hid- 
 ing place in a patch of young hazel brush. The 
 little wren had quit his song and so had the rest of 
 
22 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 the birds. I didn't hear a sound, except a yellow- 
 hammer's drumming 'way off in the woods. But I 
 saw an old red-head light on the roof of Dan's 
 cabin, only to go off again, when I come along. 
 
 I got to thinking of Bugle, and wondering if he'd 
 quit yet; but I reckoned he hadn't, 'less he'd killed 
 or treed what he was after. Durndest hound that 
 ever did live, Bugle was. Anyway, I knowed he'd 
 come home when he finished his run. 
 
 By the time I got to our place the sun was down, 
 and there was some clouds in the west. The wind 
 had come up a little and it felt like it had run onto 
 a shower of rain in its travels; so I thought mebby 
 it would rain again in the night. When I was let- 
 ting 1 down the bars I heered an old hen clucking 
 fretful, like, and I hung the sack of meal on the 
 fence to see what was troubling her. She was 
 fussing around over in a patch of hazel brush, and 
 I slipped over that way, parting the bushes care- 
 ful. Directly I saw her. She was capering and 
 jawing at a skunk sucking her eggs in a nest she'd 
 stole. I pulled down on mister man and killed 
 him. At the crack of the rifle the old hen ran, half 
 flying towards the house, raising the durndest 
 racket she could, and in a minute Aunt Lib was in 
 the door. 
 
 "Whatever's the matter, Lige?" she called. 
 
 "Nothin' much," I answered. "That ol' fool hen 
 stole her nest in them hazels and a skunk's sucked 
 her aiggs." 
 
 "Land o' massey!" she says. "If it ain't one 
 thing it's another. I f errited out that ol' hen-tur- 
 key down by the little spring this afternoon, an' she 
 had fourteen aiggs under her. How many was in 
 the hen's nest, Lige?" 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 23 
 
 "I didn't count 'em, nor try to, Aunt Lib," I said, 
 going in the house to put up the sack and rifle. 
 "But she won't never go back to 'em noway. It 
 smells mighty bad down there now." 
 
 "Massey!" she frets. "Yonder comes Eldin, an* 
 supper ain't nigh ready yit. I wished you'd split 
 some o' that wood finer, Lige. A body cain't cook 
 with a passel o' logs fer kindlin'. Eben's been 
 he'pin' Eldin all day an' so there ain't no kindlin'." 
 
 She didn't say anything about Charles splittin' 
 the kindling. She never did. Seems like when 
 boys don't natur'ly he'p their folks they just 
 natur'ly don't ask 'em to. I reckoned that when 
 I'd gone Charles'd wake up and see there was a 
 heap he could do. I reckoned he'd have to. 
 
 "Was they many folks down to the Crossin' to- 
 day?" Aunt Lib was asking. 
 
 "I didn't see many, Aunt Lib," I said. "No 
 women folks at all." And then I went out to the 
 woodpile. 
 
 I'd made up my mind to tell them at supper. I 
 wished it was over with, for I did hate to fret Aunt 
 Lib. But I reckoned this would be the last time 
 I'd have it to do for quite a spell. It seemed as 
 though every minute I waited made it worse. So 
 all of a sudden I picked up an armful of wood and 
 followed Uncle Eldin into the house. Then I come 
 out with it. 
 
 "I've made up my mind, folks," I said, trying to 
 keep my voice stiddy and not look at Aunt Lib. 
 "In the mornin'," I says, "I'm goin' to St. Louis an' 
 try to git me a place there." 
 
 "Oh, Lige Mounts! You've been a-readin' more 
 trash an' you'll git yerse'f killed, shore nuif. You 
 talk to him, Eldin." And Aunt Lib turned away 
 
24 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 in disgust. Cracky ! I was glad she was more mad 
 than hurt. 
 
 But Uncle Eldin only said, "Well, boy, if ye must 
 ye will, I reckon." 
 
 He'd give up. I could see that. And I felt nigh 
 happy. 
 
 He walked over to hang up his hat. Then he 
 said, "But why all this hurry? St. Louis'll be there 
 when ye git to it, Lige." 
 
 "Yes, I reckon it will," I said, "but it's high 
 water now, an* outfits are goin' up the river to 
 trade. I'd hate to be late, so I'm goin' in the 
 mornin'." 
 
 There! I felt lots better. He started to whistle. 
 Directly I says, "Uncle Eldin, kin I hev the new 
 rifle?" 
 
 He walked over to the wall and looked at it, all 
 slick and clean as a wolf's tooth. "Of course, boy. 
 It's yours more'n mine, anyway. Take it along, 
 an' welcome," he said, right low. 
 
 It was sure a dreary meal, supper was. Nobody 
 talked much. Even the littler ones was quiet. I 
 knowed Eben envied me some; but I felt his case 
 was a heap different than mine. I could have no 
 share in the place when Aunt Lib and Uncle Eldin 
 was through with it. There was more'n a plenty 
 to divide it with, leaving me out. And I didn't 
 belong in, noway. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 I can't forget that night nor the next morning. 
 I could hear Aunt Lib stirring about long after the 
 others was sleeping, and I knowed she was fixing 
 and fussing for me. And again before daylight 
 she was up and at it by candle light. 
 
 Although I was anxious to be starting, I hated 
 to get out of my bed, not because I was weakening, 
 but because I'd have to talk to Aunt Lib. 
 
 At last I got up and dressed. It promised to be 
 a fine day, though it wa'n't quite light, even then. 
 I found them all at the breakfast table. Jinny had 
 her hair done up high, like she was going some 
 place. She was fourteen and right pretty. She 
 tied a bib 'round Susan's neck and set Alexander 
 Hamilton on his high chair before she set down 
 herse'f . It appeared to me she was he'pin' more'n 
 usual that morning. Then I saw that Jane Ellen 
 had tied a ribbon in her hair; and I felt like they 
 was all bent on seeing me off in style. Jane Ellen 
 was only ten, but I'd always thought a heap of her ; 
 she was so kind and thoughtful for a little girl. 
 Eben set right across from me and looked sulky 
 and down in the mouth. 
 
 Directly Charles started to talk about In j ins, but 
 Aunt Lib shut him up quicker'n scat, and Eben got 
 up and went out to the barn. I kept thinking how 
 pretty Jinny was and how good little Jane Ellen 
 had always been since she was a baby. The little 
 ones, Susan and Alexander Hamilton, didn't know 
 I was going away, and I felt glad enough, for there 
 was plenty to say good-bye to, as it was. 
 
 25 
 
26 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Breakfast was soon over, and I moulded my lead 
 into bullets with the rest watching by the fireplace. 
 Aunt Lib had made a bundle of some clothes and 
 food, and when she give them to me, she couldn't 
 keep back her tears. I felt mighty bad, for I 
 knowed she was fretting a heap; but this was the 
 last time she'd have to worry about me for a long 
 spell. 
 
 I kissed her and the girls and said good-bye as 
 quick as I could. Then I shook hands with Uncle 
 Eldin and said, "Good-bye for a spell. One of 
 these days I'll come back, an' if I've been lucky I'll 
 shore divide." 
 
 Then I took down the rifle and powder-horn and 
 bullet-ppuch and went out of the cabin as quick as 
 I could. They was all gathered in the door, I 
 knowed, but I didn't look back till I climbed the 
 fence on the far side of the corn field. Then I 
 turned and waved my hand. I saw them all, even 
 Bugle who'd got back in the night standing 
 there in the door all except Uncle Eldin. He was 
 on his way to the spring for a bucket of water. I 
 had never knowed him to pack drinking water be- 
 fore. 
 
 In a jiffy the timber hid me, and I struck out 
 lickety split, like I was afraid something would 
 catch up and steal my chance of going away. I 
 followed the winding road, that led, folks said, clean 
 to St. Louis, a hundred miles off, till I come to a 
 spring of water. Right away I wanted a drink. 
 It seemed so good to know I could do whatever I 
 pleased that even that little thing demanded atten- 
 tion. So I stopped by the spring. 
 
 I hadn't looked back for an hour, I reckon. But 
 from the spring the way I'd come was straight for 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 27 
 
 more'n a quarter, and far back I could see Bugle 
 comin' on his three old laigs. I forgot all about 
 drinking. In a minute he'd caught up to me, tick- 
 led nigh to death. I hadn't the heart to be cross 
 with him. But of course I couldn't be bothered 
 with a hound going to St. Louis, so I patted him 
 first and then sent him back. He didn't want to 
 go, and now that I'd got this far I didn't blame 
 him. "Git home," I says, making believe I'd 
 picked up a rock and was going to throw it. 
 
 He turned and hobbled off, looking over his 
 shoulder at me. Cracky ! the reproach that was in 
 his eyes! But I stooped again and made him 
 think I'd got another rock, and he went off faster 
 and faster, till he got to the bend down the road, 
 where he set down and just looked back at me. He 
 wouldn't budge further. I felt I was sneaking 
 away from a friend when at last I started on. And 
 I'd forgot to drink. I kept looking back every lit- 
 tle while to see if he was followeing, but I didn't 
 see him no more, and was mighty glad. 
 
 Gnarled stumps and crooked roots was plenty in 
 the wagon road; so the traveling wa'n't very good. 
 But the sunlight and shade cut all kinds of capers 
 and I got to watching the little blotches of gold 
 that shivered and trembled on the dark ground. 
 The road made me think of a leopard's skin I'd 
 seen in Abner Hastings' natural history book. And 
 all day long there was blue- jays, and from most 
 every hickory squirrels barking at me as I followed 
 the dim wheel tracks; for the road wa'n't much 
 used noway. It was cool in the woods and I trav- 
 eled pretty fast, always keeping a watch for Bugle, 
 because I couldn't believe he'd quit, once he started. 
 
28 UGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Mebby he knowed more'n I give him credit for, 
 though. 
 
 I come to a clearing pretty soon, just an acre or 
 two, and I reckoned it was the Jesson place. Folks 
 didn't respect Les Jesson much, so I didn't stop. 
 But they was three small children perched on the 
 top rail of the fence around the clearing. I said 
 'howdy* and the oldest, a boy, answered; then 
 finally, after I was far enough away, he got cour- 
 age and called "Where ye goin', stranger?" But I 
 made out like I didn't hear him. 
 
 Then for hours there wa'n't any clearings or 
 cabins, just the woods and the road to St. Louis. 
 
 I couldn't hardly wait to get there. I traveled 
 till plumb dark. Then I built a little fire and ate 
 most half of the food Aunt Lib had give me. After 
 that I went to sleep ; for I was tired as a dog, but 
 happy. 
 
 First I knowed the sun was in my eyes. Cracky ! 
 I jumped up; but I didn't build a fire. I just ate a 
 lunch and away I went, lickety-split. I wanted to 
 make up, for I'd ought to have been on the way 
 long ago. I hit an awful gait, and kept it up till 
 noon, when I passed a right big clearing. There 
 was a store and a mill there, and a lot of hounds 
 and cur-dogs that barked at me when I passed ; but 
 I didn't stop. I saw folks looking at me from doors 
 and windows, but I made out like I didn't notice 
 them and kept going. 
 
 I was getting right tired by dark, so I knowed 
 I'd most likely made up what I'd lost by oversleep- 
 ing. And so I built me a fire to roast a squirrel I'd 
 shot just before sundown. 
 
 By the time the fire was going good the moon 
 was up, and it looked mighty pretty through the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 29 
 
 trees. I'd passed a cabin a little way back; and 
 when I was skinning out the squirrel I heered 
 something, and looking up, saw a man on the other 
 side of my fire. 
 
 "Howdy, stranger," he says, cheery-like. 
 
 "Howdy," I says, hanging my squirrel on a stick 
 before the blaze. 
 
 "Travelin'?" 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 "Which way?" 
 
 "St. Louis," I says. "How fer is it from here?" 
 
 "Reckon it's nigh onto thirty-two mile," he says. 
 "Where'd ye come from?" 
 
 "Back yonder nigh to Coon Creek Crossin'." 
 
 "By gum! ye've had a right smart hike, ain't 
 ye? Better come right over to the house an' rest 
 yo'se'f." 
 
 "No thanks," I says. "I'm plumb comfortable 
 here. Won't ye set down an' have a bite with 
 me?" 
 
 "No," he says, "had my supper long ago. What's 
 yer name?" 
 
 "Lige Mounts." 
 
 "Mounts, hey?" he says, like he'd heered it be- 
 fore. "Well, Mounts, if you won't come over to 
 the house, I reckon I'll be goin' back myse'f. Folks 
 seen yer fire an' kep' a-naggin' an* peckin' at me 
 till I come over to see who built it. Good night," 
 he says, and went off. 
 
 I was glad of it. My squirrel was nigh done, 
 and I was tired and hungry. 
 
 I mighty nigh finished Aunt Lib's grub. But 
 the squirrel he'ped a lot, and I saved some of it. 
 I filled my pipe and took a smoke ; but I went sound 
 asleep setting up straight, with my back against a 
 
30 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 hickory; tree. And I dreamed. I thought Bugle 
 and I was trying to drive something out from be- 
 hind the fallen tree in Dan's Clearing, and that the 
 old roots kept moving and was plumb full of squir- 
 rels. Then all of a sudden something awful seemed 
 to have happened in Dan's Clearing, and I started 
 in my sleep and fell over. After that I stretched 
 out; but I reckon I'd eaten too much, for I didn't 
 get much sleep. I was glad when I saw that it was 
 getting daylight, and built up my fire right away. 
 
 While it was burning up good, I went off into 
 the timber a piece and shot a squirrel for my 
 breakfast. I wondered if the folks in the cabin 
 would hear the shot; but if they did nobody come 
 near me. 
 
 I soon got the jacket off my squirrel. And long 
 before it was right good daylight I was making 
 better'n four miles an hour towards St. Louis. I 
 kept it up pretty well, passing more and more 
 cabins and clearings and meeting more and more 
 people. Some wanted to stop and talk and some 
 didn't. And I never did see so many different 
 Kinds of cur-dogs, with only now and again a good 
 looking hound among them. I saw two mighty 
 pretty girls in a big clearing 'long about noon. 
 They was both hoss-back and looked right pert and 
 fine. They had awful long riding skirts on and 
 wore hats with feathers in them. They looked 
 mighty fine and pert, I can tell you. They was a 
 heap prettier than Polly Hawkins both of them. 
 And I'd always believed she had them all beat. 
 
 The road kept getting better and better and more 
 used, and by and by it was right dusty and I met a 
 passel of people afoot and hoss-back all coming 
 from St. Louis, I reckoned. But I couldn't see 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 31 
 
 where they could all live unless they was a heap 
 more houses somewheres along the road than I'd 
 seen. 
 
 I passed a man that was dressed up fit to kill. I 
 reckoned he was mighty well off, for I. never had 
 seen such fine clothes. He wore a tall beaver hat 
 that must have set him back a plenty, and he was 
 packing a cane. I wished I knowed who he was. 
 Then by and by I passed a carriage. I'd never 
 seen such a fine team of hosses in my life before 
 blood bays, a leetle too high-headed, mebby, but full 
 o' mettle, and young. There was a white haired 
 old couple in the carriage, laying back and looking 
 happy, and a nigger driving the rig. The old gen- 
 tleman waved his hand at me, and I was tickled 
 plenty and answered. Then the old lady bowed, 
 and I took off my hat quicker'n a cat can turn 
 around. I thought it was mighty nice and friendly 
 of them ; and I did wish I knowed who they was. 
 
 But I can't begin to tell you of all the folks I 
 met that afternoon. I didn't know there was so 
 many on any road as I saw that day. It was worth 
 the walking just to see them; and I reckon I could 
 have stood it for a month, just to get to see them 
 over again them and others that would come 
 along. 
 
 I turned a bend in the road right where it started 
 to go down hill pretty fast; and when I looked, 
 there she was St. Louis! 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 I knowed quite a lot about St. Louis, or thought 
 I did. Abner Hastings had been there more'n 
 once, and he'd told me a good deal. But not half 
 not even a quarter. 
 
 I was glad I knowed what I did. It accounted 
 for a heap of things I saw that day. I remembered 
 Abner Hastings had told me that St. Louis was one 
 of the few cities now under our good flag that was 
 older'n the Union itse'f. "Her career," he'd said, 
 "has been as mottled as her population, which, 
 changing somewhat with her allegiance, has still 
 left a portion of both good and bad of the peoples 
 belonging to the three sovereign nations which have 
 of right possessed her during her fifty-nine years 
 of existence." I remembered every word of that, 
 just like he'd said it; and now I knowed it was true 
 especially the part about the population. 
 
 For I never did see such a passel of differences 
 in my life before not even in a bushel of bad-year 
 potatoes. Most likely people from the three sover- 
 eign nations was right there that day. Soon's I 
 got there I begun to meet up with queer-looking 
 folks. Trappers and voyageurs, dressed all in buck- 
 skin with fancy head riggin's ; bull- whackers in reg- 
 ular old homespun's bad's my own; squaws wear- 
 ing every bright color I ever did see; half-breeds 
 with rings in their ears and nothin' on their heads 
 but their black bobbed hair; Injins all fine in quill 
 work, and their faces painted fit to scare a varmi't ; 
 barefoot niggers clear from New Orleans and naked 
 to the waist; regular dandies from back Boston 
 
 32 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 33 
 
 way, I reckoned, wearing tall beaver hats and 
 frilled shirts; regular ladies in carriages and 
 dressed to kill all happy, or appearing to be, from 
 the noise they was making. 
 
 There was groups of men setting everywhere, 
 and the taverns was full to busting. Every door 
 was wide open. I could hardly get past them. And 
 the noise ! Why, men was singing in every tavern 
 or I reckoned they thought they was singing. 
 But it was English and French all jumbled up, and 
 sounded awful to me. More'n half the noise was 
 laughing though, loud and rough, but genuine as 
 pigweed in a garden patch. Everybody seemed to 
 have a language of their own. I'd never heered 
 one of them before; and I was willing to bet there 
 wa'n't another spot on earth where there was so 
 many different ones spoken among friends. It 
 seemed to me, too, that there couldn't be any other 
 place where white folks winked at so many things 
 done in open daylight, and still reckoned themse'fs 
 decent. If Joshua Moulds, our circuit rider, had 
 been there and saw the things I did that day, I 
 wouldn't have listened to him preach afterward 
 not for a dollar. 
 
 But everybody was happy, and I figured that was 
 a heap. I had never heered so much laughing. 
 Everybody wanted to laugh and did all but one 
 woman, and she was crying. I met up with her 
 about half way down the street and stopped and 
 asked her if I could he'p her any. She started to 
 talk, but I couldn't understand a word she said. 
 Then she took hold of my arm and wanted me to 
 go somewheres with her; but not liking the way 
 she acted I went on about my business. 
 
 There was music a-plenty, too, all along the way. 
 
34 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Fiddles was going full tilt in nigh every tavern, 
 and there was dancing in some of the places. I 
 had to go around the groups of Injin women from 
 up the river that was gathered in front of the 
 doors, looking in at the fun and having a great 
 time of their own. Most of them was eating 
 sweets, and all of them wore red or green or yellow 
 silks on their heads regular bouquets they looked, 
 bunched close in their anxiety to see. 
 
 I never did see such a mixing of colors. Aunt 
 Lib's flower beds wa'n't a patchin' to it not when 
 every blossom was out at one time. Colors seemed 
 to live in St. Louis. Even the cattle in the bull- 
 teams was every color a critter could be white, 
 bay, black, roan, or spotted; and sometimes there 
 was as many as twenty yoke in a team. Cracky! 
 the loads they was hauling. Wagons piled high 
 with freight from the levees goods that come from 
 as far oif as Philadelphia and New York being 
 hauled to stores or warehouses. Long-lashed bull- 
 whips popped like rifles, and men cussin' like pir- 
 ates, with sharp goad-sticks, tortured the cattle to 
 mighty nigh bust their yokes pulling the loads. I 
 saw bales and bales of fur and buffalo robes and 
 dried meat being hauled from the river; and I 
 knowed some big outfits had come down with the 
 high water. 
 
 I saw men that was rich and men that didn't 
 have a red cent, nor a place to go. These poor fel- 
 lers had had money but spent it carousin' in St. 
 Louis, raising Ned while their pile lasted. Now 
 they was strapped. But I reckoned from what I'd 
 seen that St. Louis didn't much care what visitors 
 did, so long as they spent what they had ; and even 
 if she was obliged to shut one eye, or even both, 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 35 
 
 while they was spending, she counted herse'f richer 
 when they had gone back up the river to get more 
 to spend. 
 
 There was some excuse for the visitors, anyway. 
 They spent long months in the wilds, always in dan- 
 ger and having little comfort. It wa'n't much 
 wonder that when at last they could forget being 
 careful and come in to St. Louis to rest and sell 
 their fur, they dipped too deep in the town's civili- 
 zation if that's what it was. Friends met up 
 there, and each was sure to have a yarn to tell ; and 
 in the telling liquor finds a place a big place, some- 
 times, I reckon. 
 
 Directly I saw loads of goods going to the river. 
 Some outfit was getting ready to start out, sure 
 enough. So I followed behind the bull-teams to see 
 what was going on, and mebby get a place for 
 myse'f. 
 
 Then I saw the steamboats, heaps of them, 
 swarming like bees at the levee. And if I thought 
 there was noise up street, I was mistaken. It was 
 like a funeral up there to what it was down by the 
 river. Steamboats coming and going, chowing and 
 churning like mad; whistles blowing so it mighty 
 nigh split my ears; niggers sweatin' and mates a- 
 swearin' like all get out. Everybody was hurryin' 
 an' everybody was liftin' or shovin' something up 
 or down gang planks or on the wharf. There 
 wa'n't room for the bull-teams. I'll bet I saw 
 more'n a thousand cattle in less'n a minute. 
 
 Clang, clang! jingle, jingle! would go a bell; and 
 chow-chow-chow! the white steam would spurt out 
 of stacks, as a steamboat backed out to make room 
 for another more noisier than herse'f. I saw a 
 big nigger nigh kill a little one; and I saw a mate 
 
36 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 hit another and knock him end-ways. I saw more'n 
 a dozen drunk men sound asleep right there in the 
 noise, and two or three women, too, that was tipsy 
 and making free with niggers like they was white. 
 I met up with a little white boy with a basket on 
 his arm winding in and out among that mess alone. 
 Every minute he'd call out "Sweet cakes! Sweet 
 cakes!" I reckoned he was selling sweet cakes to 
 the men down there. 
 
 Pretty soon a dog fight started right on the levee. 
 It was a good one, too a fox hound and a cur-dog. 
 They made quite a scattering among the men, and 
 the niggers stopped to watch them, till a mad mate 
 throwed a bucket of water on the dogs, and they 
 quit. 
 
 I didn't see no keel-boats, nor no chance to ask 
 anybody about them. So I went away, intending 
 to come back after a spell. I knowed I'd go crazy 
 if I stayed there. I couldn't stand the noise; and I 
 crossed the street, to take the other side this time. 
 
 And 'twas lucky I did. I hadn't gone far, when 
 I saw a sign in a window, and stopped to read it. 
 I remember every word of it to this day. It said: 
 
 NOTICE TO ENTERPRISING YOUNG MEN 
 
 The subscriber wishes to engage one 
 hundred young men to ascend the Mis- 
 souri river to its source, there to be em- 
 ployed for one, two, or three years. For 
 particulars inquire of Major Andrew 
 Henry, who will ascend with and com- 
 mand the party, or of the subscriber near 
 St. Louis. 
 
 WILLIAM H. ASHLEY. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 37 
 
 General Ashley! The very man that had the 
 fight with the Arickaras! Go with Major Henry? 
 Well, I reckoned I would; and mighty glad to get 
 the chance. I'd see the General right away. 
 
 But where could I find him? "Near St. Louis" 
 wa'n't all I needed to know. But I'd ask the first 
 white man I met up with that looked like he was 
 friendly. I made up my mind to that. Mebby 
 Major Henry was handier, though. I turned to 
 read the notice again, careful; and while I was do- 
 ing it a tall man come up behind me and stopped. 
 I could see him in the window glass without turning 
 around. He was a heap taller'n me, and his hair 
 was light colored like mine but grayed some and 
 hung down onto his shoulders. He read the notice 
 over my head, kinder spelling it out slow. Di- 
 rectly he smiled, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. 
 
 "Don't ye do it, son, don't ye do it," he said, slow 
 and easy, like. 
 
 It sounded just like home-folks, and I turned 
 around quick to look at him. Cracky! I'll never 
 forget him, nor how he looked to me, a plumb 
 stranger and mighty nigh hungry. I looked right 
 at him, and mighty glad to. And he looked right 
 at my eyes, his'n gray, like, and warm, and not 
 stirrin' a mite. He was all dressed in buckskin, 
 feet and all, and had a red silk tied on his head. 
 His long, fringed buckskin coat-shirt was all 
 worked with colored quills and hung to his knees, 
 and he had fringed leggins and a blue breech-clout 
 made fancy with work. 
 
 Directly his smile growed bigger and more wel- 
 come, and he leaned a little on the longest rifle I 
 ever did see, but was all of six feet six inches tall, 
 and straight as a ramrod. His lips was thin and 
 
38 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 straight-cut and clean looking, and his face was 
 smooth-shaved but marked pretty deep and plenty 
 with straight lines. I couldn't look enough at his 
 eyes. They twinkled so and seemed to be enjoying 
 what was going on inside me. 
 
 At last I smiled too. I couldn't he'p it, for his 
 eyes was mighty nigh danein'. 
 
 "Why not, Dad?" I says, dropping my bundle. 
 
 His eyes keened a little, I thought. "How'd you 
 know my name, son?" he says, sudden, like. 
 
 "Didn't." 
 
 "Well, by the shot that got the meat! If that 
 ain't cur'ous. What's yer name, son?" 
 
 "Elijah Mounts," I says, and right away I re- 
 membered I'd never said 'Elijah' before to any- 
 body, so I says, "But I go by the name of Lige al- 
 ways." 
 
 "It's a good name," he says. "Mine's Wash 
 Lamkin, but folks call me Dad up's far's the Black- 
 feet country, anyway them that's there." 
 
 "But why shouldn't I look up Major Henry or 
 General Ashley, Dad?" I asked him, itching to get 
 back to me getting a place and wondering what he 
 had against them. 
 
 "Mostly because it ain't a good plan to be be- 
 holden to others in a country where yer boss is a 
 king. If ye're goin' up the river, better go as a 
 freeman, son, an' make yer own trails, an' sell yer 
 fur where an' when ye please." 
 
 "But I haven't got any money, Dad," I told him. 
 "Not a red cent." 
 
 "Shoo ! that's different, I cal'late," he says. "A 
 heap different. Best come over to my camp an' 
 hev a bite to eat. Mebby we kin strike a bargain, 
 me an' you. What say?" 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 39 
 
 He started right off like he knowed I'd come. 
 And I did. I picked up my bundle and away we 
 went, in and out among the folks in the street, past 
 taverns and stores and bull-teams, noisier'n ever. 
 Once he stopped before a tavern. "Hev a little 
 somethin'?" he says. 
 
 "Nope." 
 
 "Don't ye drink, son?" 
 
 "Nope," I says. 
 
 "Glad of it. My camp's up yonder by that grove 
 of trees," and he pointed to it. 
 
 I kept wondering why he'd been so good to me, a 
 plumb stranger. "Mebby he's lonesome, same's 
 me," I thought. 
 
 And then pretty soon we was at his camp. It 
 was a little buffalo-skin lodge, and Injin-painted 
 with queer animals that is, queer-done with colors, 
 I mean. There was a man inside, and right away 
 Dad said, "Git a fire goin', Joe, an' we'll eat a bite." 
 
 He didn't introduce me, but seemed to be think- 
 ing while both Joe and him got supper. I saw 
 everything was ready for moving. There was 
 bales all made up snug and nice, and piled around 
 the lodge-wall. And outside was pack-saddles and 
 Spanish rigs they called aparajos, I found out aft- 
 erwards. Dad didn't talk none while he fixed to 
 eat, and I looked around and learned a lot. The 
 smoke went straight up and out the top of the 
 lodge, like it was a fireplace ; but it was hotter'n all 
 time in there for a spell. 'Twa'n't long before Dad 
 said, "Set up everything's ready." And in no 
 time at all we was through eating. 
 
 Then he says to me, "Do ye smoke?" and I said 
 I did. 
 
 "Well, fire up an' we'll settle this thing quicker'n 
 
40 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 scat. I got a pardner none better; an* we're 
 leavin' in the mornin'. Leastways, I am. But he 
 ain't finished his spree yit. If he don't come in 
 to-night I'll leave him to trail me up. It's high 
 time we was jiggin'. He'll agree to any bargain I 
 make. And here 'tis: I'll take ye along an* outfit 
 ye with the understandin* that me an' my pard- 
 ner's to hev half yer ketch as long's we stay to- 
 gether. That's short an* sweet, an' accordin' to 
 right, if I know it. What say?" 
 
 Cracky! It was too good to be true. How'd it 
 come that he was so mighty good an* free with me? 
 "Mebby he likes me," I thought. And I sure liked 
 him, so I said, "I agree, Dad. It's heaps more'n 
 I ever expected, an' I'm obliged to you." 
 
 Then we shook hands on it, and he says, "That 
 bein' settled without blood-lettin', we'd best go back 
 to town an' git ye some things ye'll need, blankets 
 an' ammunition, mostly. What ye shootin', son?" 
 
 "Twenty-eight to the pound, Dad," I says. "Will 
 it do, do ye reckon?" 
 
 "I reckon. Let's be a-jiggirf. It's gettin' late." 
 
 I felt mighty proud I owned my rifle now, more'n 
 ever. 
 
 It was plumb dark a'ready, mostly because of the 
 clouds. Thunder was growling some, and now and 
 then a pale, zig-zag streak of lightning went scal- 
 lowaggin' across the west, like it does sometimes 
 when the weather's hot. Down below us hundreds 
 and hundreds of little lights like yellow stars 
 showed where the town was, and even from where 
 I was I could hear the noise and some of the music; 
 but 'twas faint and suited me better'n being close. 
 
 Directly we was back in the street and 'twas as 
 lively's when we left it livelier, I reckon. A 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 41 
 
 group of trappers and rivermen was gathered about 
 three French voyageurs and a half-breed Injin 
 dancing to the music of a curious stringed instru- 
 ment played by a black looking Spaniard, "Of Man- 
 uel Lisa's crew," Dad said. The feller was squat- 
 ted in the street with his back against a tavern, 
 and under the light of a lantern that looked like it 
 come out of one of Abner Hastings' travel books. 
 It was hung from an iron hook right over the tav- 
 ern door. The Spaniard's fingers was mighty nim- 
 ble, and he picked quick tunes out of the strings 
 for the dancers. His head was bound up in green 
 silk, and now and again he'd Yip ! to set 'em goin' 
 right good. 
 
 Dad stopped to watch, grinning like a possum, 
 and 'twas enough to make a body grin. But just 
 then there come a gust of wind, damp as frog's 
 laigs. It swung the iron lantern till its ring 
 creaked like a stay-chain, and the candle in it flick- 
 ered like fury and mighty nigh went out. It thun- 
 dered loud, and right away a rain drop fell on my 
 hand. 
 
 "I reckon we'd best be a-jiggin'," Dad said. And 
 we started, him a'lookin' back like he wished he 
 could stay a spell. 
 
 "I hanker to watch 'em when I can spare the 
 time," he told me. "They're so devilful an' keer- 
 less, like," he says. 
 
 When we got to a place called Shipman and Com- 
 pany, Dad says, "Here we be." But just as he was 
 about to go inside, with me following, somebody 
 yelled out, "Jest a minute, please!" 
 
 We turned around, and a man run right up to 
 me, pointing his finger. "Is your name Mounts?" 
 he says taking hold of my arm. 
 
42 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "Yes, sir," I says, wondering if I'd ever seen him 
 before. 
 
 "Well, I want ye f er killin' Caley Byers. Come 
 along o' me." 
 
 My heart just stopped, it seemed. Then it jumped 
 and I got my breath back. "I reckon you've made 
 some mistake," I says, trying to hold my voice 
 stiddy. "I saw Caley Byers four days ago, and " 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" the feller's laugh cut in. And it 
 was nasty, like, an' r'iled me. "Yes," he says, "I 
 reckon ye seen him, bein's how ye're s'posed to hev 
 shot him dead in Dan's Clearin' back yonder, jest 
 four days ago. Yer ol' houn' dog was comin' out 
 of the Clearin' when Byers' nigger found the body." 
 
 Then I heered Dad saying, "Don't talk none, son 
 not a word." He took hold of my other arm and 
 pinched hard. "Take it cool, like," he says. "Bet- 
 ter go 'long with the officer 'thout fussin'. Shoo! 
 we've plumb got to hev law got to hev it," he says, 
 and I'd swore I saw him wink at the officer, though 
 I wa'n't dead sure. 
 
 They started to lead me away out of the light. I 
 didn't hold back none, but I couldn't make it out. 
 Caley Byers shot dead! And in Dan's Clearing! 
 Who could have done it? I tried to think. Then 
 the story the old nigger told come into my mind, 
 the woman part and all, like I'd heered it. And 
 right away after that I thought of the old root in 
 Dan's Clearing and the squirrel, and the owl. And 
 even my curious dream by the hickory tree come 
 back. But they didn't tell me nothin', and I was 
 in bad trouble, mighty bad. 
 
 I was taken up for murder. And like's not I 
 couldn't prove I didn't kill Caley Byers. We'd had 
 words, me and him. And mebby folks knowed 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 43 
 
 about it. I wondered if they did. I was mighty 
 glad now I'd never told anybody about rockin' him 
 in the creek. I reckoned it would look like I'd shot 
 him easy enough ; me being in at the Crossing same 
 time as him, and old Bugle coming through the 
 Clearing just when Byers's nigger was finding the 
 body. I shore wished now I hadn't got to dream- 
 ing and let Bugle go trailing off that a-way. It 
 would a-meant a lot to me now. I was miserable 
 worried and scared. The world had changed for 
 me in a minute. A little while back I was happy 
 so happy I knowed my luck was too good to be true. 
 I'd wanted so long and so hard to go up the river, 
 when up steps a plumb stranger and offers me my 
 chance. 'Twas like a story in one of Abner Hast- 
 ings' books, but I'd knowed it couldn't last, and 
 sure enough it hadn't. Things like that is all right 
 in books. But directly they happen in real life you 
 get to thinking something's wrong somehow. 
 
 I looked about me. It was all dark. We had 
 left the street and the folks. The noise was all be- 
 hind, and my shoulders was cold. Then I saw 'twas 
 raining hard, but I'd never 4 noticed before. Di- 
 rectly we stopped before a sort of passage-way that 
 led in between some dark stone buildings covered 
 with dripping vines. 
 
 "Here we be," the officer says, tightening his hold 
 on my arm. "I'm obleeged to ye, mister, fer yer 
 company," he says to Dad, "but this is as fer as ye 
 kin go." 
 
 I can't make you know how that left me cold, 
 then hot, then cold again. 
 
 Dad says, cheerful, like, "I reckon 'tis. It's fer's 
 I'm hankerin' to go, stranger. Good-night, son," he 
 says, pattin' my shoulder and stepping backward 
 
44 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 into the shadow of the stone house. "He's gone 
 back on me," I thought. And I just wilted. 
 
 But right away I heered a THUD ! and the offi- 
 cer loosened his hold of my arm, and fell in a heap. 
 Dad's rifle had nigh busted his skull. 
 
 "Come, son, let's be a-jiggin'." It was Dad whis- 
 pering In my ear. But I was stunned by what he'd 
 done, I reckon. 
 
 "Come! this ain't no place to loaf in," he says, 
 shaking me. And next I knowed we was off 
 through the driving rain, keeping in the shadows 
 and runnin' away, like a couple of bad ones, which 
 I reckoned we was. 
 
 Dad knowed where he was going, though. "Here 
 we be," he says, "as our friend the officer said." 
 And he was laughing, low, and inside to himse'f . 
 
 The lodge was dark as all get out. Dad called 
 out, "Joe! Joe! Fetch in the line-back buckskin 
 pony, an' saddle him with the spare rig. Shake 
 yerse'f!" 
 
 The man come out with a rope, fetched in a hoss, 
 an' saddled him like lightning. 
 
 "Git on, son," says Dad, handing up my rifle, 
 quick's I climbed into the saddle. Then he tied a 
 blanket and a sack of dried meat behind me, talk- 
 ing slow all the time he worked. 
 
 "Now then," he says, "git out o' here. Ride due 
 west till ye strike the river. Then keep off'n the 
 trail that follers it, an' keep a-ridin' stiddy. Don't 
 stop much for two days. If nobody shows up be- 
 hind ye by that time, camp somewheres out o' sight, 
 an* wait fer me. I'll be along directly. But foller 
 the river after ye strike it, an* ride due west till 
 ye do. Understand, son?" 
 
 "But how about you, Dad? Won't they come and 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 45 
 
 get you? I never killed anybody, Dad," I says, half 
 turning the.hoss around to start off, but beginning 
 to think a little. 
 
 "Shoo ! I know you never killed nobody, son," he 
 says, laying his hand on my knee. "Don't you fret 
 about me. They won't never git me. That man, 
 the officer, never did see me before. An' what's 
 more he ain't never goin' to see me agin, neither. 
 Now off with ye, an' ride like I tell ye. I never did 
 quit a pardner yit, son. Adios!" 
 
 Cracky! I felt small and ornery then, and I 
 made up my mind I'd tell him, so I out with, it. 
 
 "Dad, I ain't been fair with you," I says. "When 
 the officer took me up I thought you was goin' to 
 turn agin me. I I'd a-swore I saw you wink at 
 him there by the store." 
 
 He chuckled and slapped my knee. "Son," he 
 says, "suspicion's a cur-dog an' bristles at shad- 
 ders. Mebby some dust or somethin' blowed in my 
 eye. Git!" 
 
 And away I went, feeling better and whiter right 
 away, but not very clear in my mind. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 The wind and rain was out of the west, and I 
 couldn't see much farther'n the pony's ears, it was 
 so dark. I was headed west; and there wa'n't any 
 trouble to stay that way, only it was hard on my 
 face. But as long as the rain and wind kept me 
 bending my head for shelter I knowed I was riding 
 like Dad told me to, due west. And I was riding 
 fast. Splashety-splash ! through puddles in the 
 road for a spell, and then, to keep the wind and go 
 west, leaving the trail and cutting across the coun- 
 try. 
 
 At first I passed a few lodges lit up with fires 
 inside, and once a cur-dog run out and barked sharp 
 as I shot past. The pony shied and mighty nigh 
 spilled me, but I hung on and got straightened up 
 again. Then there was nothing after that, only 
 the dark and the rain. 
 
 After a while I got used to it, and I begun to 
 think. I saw right away that I hadn't been fair 
 with my hoss, and I pulled him down to mighty 
 nigh a walk. 
 
 I was running away. All of a sudden that come 
 rompin' into my head, and I didn't like it. I hadn't 
 done nothing to run for. And Aunt Lib'd be wor- 
 ried and fret again worse'n ever. I mighty nigh 
 turned around. Of course I figured folks'd reckon 
 I did kill Caley Byers, because I'd run away. The 
 officer'd tell it, and tell folks about being hit, too, if 
 he wa'n't killed by the blow he got. And he might 
 even think 'twas me that hit him. Yes, I reckoned 
 he might think that, if he lived to think at all. I 
 couldn't say that it wa'n't me that hit him, for that 
 
 46 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 47 
 
 would let Dad into the mess, and what he'd done 
 was done to he'p me. To tell on him would be 
 lower down than a sheep-killing shepherd-dog so I 
 shut that clean out of my reckoning. If I turned 
 back and give myse'f up I'd have to let Dad know 
 it or he'd be looking for me all the way up the river; 
 and I knowed he wa'n't the kind that would let me 
 take the blame of hitting the officer. If he owned 
 up to it himse'f , then he'd be in bad trouble account 
 of me. If he hadn't done what he did I'd sure be in 
 jail for something I didn't do, and with no proof I 
 didn't do it. There wa'n't no way but to run. And 
 that's the way I settled it. I felt better, and whip- 
 ped up a bit. 
 
 The rain had mighty nigh quit, and the wind, too, 
 for that matter. But it was still dark as all get 
 out. At last I saw a blacker streak off to my right 
 and figured it was timber, so I knowed the river 
 was over there. I kept out of the timber, though, 
 and never stopped nor broke a trot, after I whipped 
 up that time when I settled what I'd best do. 
 
 By and by the sky showed day was coming, and 
 the wind freshened again. But I didn't need it 
 now, for I knowed as soon's 'twas light enough I'd 
 see the river. And sure enough, when day come 
 on, there it was. I rode into a grove where the 
 trees was thick and where there was an open park, 
 not far from the water. The cottonwoods was 
 plenty and thick all about it, and I was sure nobody 
 could see me from the trail. It was more'n a hun- 
 dred yards back, and I'd crossed it coming into the 
 grove. 
 
 I got down and took off the saddle. The pony 
 wa'n't het up none, nor tired. I never saw any- 
 thing like it. Soon's I got the saddle off and staked 
 
48 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 him, down he went and rolled and rolled. Then, up 
 he got and shook himse'f like a wet dog and went 
 to eating the grass like he was afraid we wa'n't 
 going to stay but a minute. Cracky ! I was proud 
 of that little hoss, and I patted his neck and told 
 him so; but he didn't skip a mouthful of grass. 
 
 I got out my sack of dried meat and slipped up 
 on a knoll-like place where it was sunny and I 
 could dry out and eat while the little hoss was rest- 
 ing and filling up. It turned out to be a fine morn- 
 ing, and when the sun got warm the timber steamed 
 and so did my clothes. I was feeling fine. I could 
 see the river winding through timbered patches 
 and meadow-places partly covered now with water. 
 Drift logs was coming down, and I wondered how 
 far up they'd been when the river washed them off 
 bars or banks, or up-rooted them off its shores; for 
 some of them had green tops and was alive. It 
 was a mighty big river as big, it seemed to me, as 
 the Mississippi at St. Louis and I could follow its 
 course for miles and miles by the fringe of timber 
 and the bluffs. Sometimes a bluff would seem to be 
 standing right crosswise of the stream, like it was 
 disputing its way the way it would most likely 
 have come if it hadn't been for the bluff. 
 
 Somehow, that fetched my trouble back. I 
 hadn't wanted to go like I did. I was forced into 
 it by things I couldn't handle and had no hand in 
 making neither. Mebby the river had easy sailing 
 farther up and could go straight the way it wanted 
 to go the way I wanted to go but the river was 
 coming down to St. Louis, and I was going up 
 stream and away running away, at that. I got to 
 fretting again. But when I remembered how Dad 
 believed I was doing right, I felt better and got to 
 watching the drift logs again. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 49 
 
 All of a sudden I saw the smoke of a camp fire, 
 flimsy and thin, and blue as a clematis flower, 
 come trailing out through the tops of the trees on a 
 bend 'way up the river. I figured the fire was 
 fresh-built by the way the smoke climbed up in the 
 still air. I wondered if anybody was after me and 
 had got past that far; but Shucks! they wouldn't 
 have made camp, noway, if they was after a body. 
 So I went back to watching the drift logs. 
 
 It was mighty nigh noon and hot. I moved into 
 the shade, for my clothes was dry and the sun was 
 uncomfortable. You can stand it when you're mov- 
 ing, but to sit still and roast is too much. I hadn't 
 much more'n got fixed when I heard singing. Di- 
 rectly I saw two big mackinaw boats coming down 
 the river. Cracky! I slipped down past the little 
 hoss and found me a place in the bushes close to the 
 river where I could see better. And along they 
 come, piled with bales of fur and buffalo robes and 
 dried meat. Their crews was singing French 
 songs and was happy as young kittens. There was 
 plenty of color about their heads and waists; but 
 the silks was soiled and the sashes black with 
 grease and dirt. And I knowed they'd buy new 
 ones the minute they got to St. Louis most likely 
 before they ate or washed up. 
 
 In a minute they was past ; and the though^ come 
 to me that their journey was mighty nigh ended. 
 That took hold of me; for St. Louis wa'n't far off 
 not half far enough, so I saddled up and lit out. 
 
 I made up my mind if I didn't see anybody com- 
 ing by the next afternoon, I'd stop and hide out to 
 wait for Dad. 
 
 I crossed the trail twice that afternoon, and it 
 was well-worn and plain, but I didn't follow it 
 
50 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 not once. Along in the afternoon I caught the flash 
 of a red blanket over near where I knowed the trail 
 to be, and once I heered a hoss whinny. When I 
 listened, he whinnied again but farther down the 
 river, so I knowed whoever was riding wa'n't look- 
 ing for me. And I figured the rider wa'n't alone, 
 but with a passel of loose hosses, because a lone 
 hoss don't often whinny. So I figured it was In j ins 
 and kept going. 
 
 A little after that I heered hosses again heaps 
 of them, and saw a big band of In j ins going along 
 the trail. I could just see them through the trees 
 and brush; but there must have been more'n fifty, 
 all headed for St. Louis. I reckoned white folks 
 mostly traveled by river and only the In j ins used 
 the trail. I wondered why Dad did but I was sure 
 he knowed what he was about. 
 
 The sun was getting down pretty well, and I was 
 glad for two reasons I hadn't seen anybody look- 
 ing for me, and it was cooler. At last it begun to 
 darken up; but the sky was clear and I stayed off 
 of the trail and kept going, not fast, but a trot the 
 pony liked a right smart gait, if kept up stiddy. 
 I could see the pony was tiring some, but I didn't 
 stop till I see it was getting day again. Then I 
 rode into another grove quite a ways from the trail 
 but not far from the river, and staked the hoss. 
 He rolled and begun to eat right away like he was 
 used to it Cracky ! I'd seen hosses, but none like 
 him. 
 
 I got out my meat sack and filled up, but was 
 tired out and layed down by a big drift log that 
 high water had left some time when there was 
 mighty nigh a flood. That's the last I knowed till 
 I felt the sunlight on my face. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 I sat up. For a minute I didn't know where I 
 was. 
 
 "Good afternoon, son." 
 
 Cracky! I jumped up, and there was Dad, sit- 
 ting on the log with that old long rifle across his 
 knees. 
 
 I was plumb ashamed. "How'd you find me? 
 How long you been here?" I says, brushing off my 
 breeches. 
 
 He begun to laugh, that inside kind of his. 
 "Find ye!" he says, sarcastic like. "Why you're 
 as easy to locate as a dead hoss in August. I been 
 waitin' for ye to hev yer nap out fer more'n an 
 hour. Son, ye're keerless ; but ye'll git over it soon. 
 If ye don't, yer hair'll be adornin' some Injin's belt 
 in the country we're headin' for. Eat a bite now, 
 an' we'll be a-jiggin'. I reckon it's best to let old 
 Bill an' the camp-keeper fetch up the outfit. Bill 
 overtook us last night, so I thought I'd best look ye 
 up. I'll saddle yer hoss while ye eat a bite. Then 
 we'll be jiggin'." 
 
 He'd fetched some corn bread and give it to me. 
 When we started, after a little, he turned into the 
 trail. "We'll foller it," he says. "We kin travel 
 faster, an' there ain't much danger, for if trouble 
 comes, it must hit old Bill first. He'll find a way 
 to turn it back, or send us word it's comin' towards 
 us. I cal'late to make a p'int above here a piece 
 where we can rest the hosses for a night. Then 
 we'll go on a few days more, an' wait fer the out- 
 fit to come along." 
 
 51 
 
52 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 It was good to be with Dad. I wa'n't worried 
 any more. Seemed as though I'd knowed him all 
 my life. I was sure ashamed of myse'f for think- 
 ing he'd turned against me that time in St. Louis 
 and I did wish he hadn't caught me asleep. That 
 pestered me. 
 
 "How old be ye, son?" he asked me after a spell. 
 
 "Nineteen next month," I said. 
 
 "Run away?" 
 
 "Nope," I says. "My father an' mother's both 
 dead. I been livin' with my mother's sister, nigh 
 Coon Creek Crossin* since I was a little feller." 
 
 "Where was ye born?" 
 
 "Kentucky," I says. 
 
 "So was I, son. An' I'm fifty-seven." 
 
 "Dad," I says, riding close up, "do you reckon I 
 can get to write a letter back?" 
 
 "Well, I cal'late it could be done from the Fort 
 when we git to it. But that's the Ashley-Henry 
 Post at the mouth of the Yellowstone, an' a long 
 ways yit. They ain't no danger of 'em takin' ye 
 up as long's ye stay up the river, noway. Rest 
 easy, son." 
 
 I bet I'd write that letter the first chance I got. 
 I was beginning to think of Aunt Lib again. She'd 
 be fretting now, I knowed. Mebby by now, or to 
 morrow, anyway, she'd hear what happened to the 
 officer and mebby believe I done it. And suppose 
 she'd think I'd done the other killed Caley Byers. 
 But I was dead sure she'd never believe that not 
 if Joshua Moulds swore to it on a stack of Bibles 
 higher'n he was. 
 
 But I reckoned I couldn't ever go back now. I 
 hadn't thought about that before. 
 
 "Dad," I says, directly, "I can't figure Caley 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 53 
 
 Byers is killed; but if he is, they'll likely find out 
 who killed him, 'cause murder will out, I've always 
 heered." 
 
 "I've heered it lots o* times, too," he says, filling 
 his pipe out of a quill-worked pouch. "An* mebby 
 it's true; but I never believed it," he says. "Kil- 
 lin's are mighty bad things, mostly, but o* course 
 all of 'em ain't murders no more'n all Injins are 
 liars." 
 
 We pulled up so's he could light his pipe, and 
 when he'd got out his flint and steel and got fire he 
 says: "In the country where we're headin' for 
 every man makes his own laws, an' while some of 
 'em's bad ones, it's sartin that any well-balanced 
 human knows mighty well when he's treadin' on 
 other folks' rights an' when he's doin' dirty work. 
 Though jest knowin' it don't keep 'em off always. 
 I figger a man that stays right with himse'f giner- 
 ally respects the rights of others and don't bother 
 his neighbors. But neighbors, the best of 'em, will 
 crowd, sometimes, if ye let 'em. Crowdin' " he says, 
 "is a heap like a louse: give it liberty, an' first ye 
 know ye hev to go at it an' make a cleanin'. Never 
 crowd, son, 'less ye intend to play the last card in 
 yer hand even if ye know somebody's liable to hev 
 to set up with ye fer a spell, afterwards." 
 
 I knowed he was right. And I made up my 
 mind I never would crowd, 'less I had it to do, and 
 knowed it. 
 
 But I'd always heered that murder would out, 
 and believed it. Now Dad said he didn't believe it, 
 and that set me to thinking. If it didn't out, then 
 how'd folks ever know I didn't kill Caley Byers? 
 Then I says, "Well, mostly, I believe murder does 
 
54 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 out. If it don't I'm in a bad fix, 'cause Caley Byers 
 and I wa'n't friends, and maybe folks knowed it." 
 
 "Shoo! if we killed all the folks we didn't like 
 the American trappers an' traders wouldn't be 
 bothered none with Hudson's Bay men, I cal'late. 
 No call to worry 'bout that, son, none 'tall." 
 
 I reckoned he was only trying to he'p me stop 
 fretting. Then like lightning a thought that nigh 
 took my breath away come to me. Mebby he 
 thought I did kill Caley Byers, and all the time he 
 did know murder would out. I looked up at him 
 quick, and felt the blood hot on my ears. But he 
 was looking ahead on the trail, and there wa'n't a 
 thing like I was afraid of in his eyes. I couldn't 
 make it out noway ; but I couldn't leave it like that. 
 
 "Dad," I says, in a minute, "I've heered a yarn 
 about Caley Byers, and there was a woman in it," 
 I says. "It come up from the South with an old 
 nigger that died at Coon Creek a nigger that be- 
 longed to Caley Byers." 
 
 He pulled up to a walk. "Tell me the yarn," he 
 says. 
 
 "It ain't much to tell," I says, "but it seems like 
 there was an old family named Sessions that had 
 lived on a big plantation since before the war and 
 generations before Caley Byers' father come there 
 and bought a piece of bottom land that joined 
 theirs and went to raising hosses. The Sessionses 
 was a big family, and quality folks that didn't have 
 any use for the Byerses, for some reason that 
 started early after they'd become neighbors. 
 
 "Anyway, Caley run plumb wild with the hosses, 
 traveling with them and racing with them and 
 spending money like all get out, till he was talked 
 about a heap. And he hated the Sessionses like 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 55 
 
 p'ison all but Lucy Ann, the youngest girl, who 
 liked him. She was mighty afraid her father 
 would find it out, and she used to meet Caley of 
 nights fer a spell. Then one day they was both 
 gone. Nobody knowed where, till old man Ses- 
 sions got a letter from York State. Lucy Ann was 
 mighty sick and Caley Byers had run off and left 
 her with only a note that said for her to go back 
 home and learn her folks to respect their neigh- 
 bors. That's what the old nigger told, nigh as I 
 can remember," I says. 
 
 "Folks knowed the yarn and talked about it, did 
 they?" he says, putting away his pipe. 
 
 "Yes," I told him. "Women folks, and men. 
 But they never knowed any more than what I've 
 told, I reckon." 
 
 "No, likely not," he says. Then, directly, like 
 he'd plumb settled it in his mind, he says, "That's 
 it, son. Some of his old neighbors got him, and 
 likely he'd lived too long, as it was. There ain't 
 no call to worry, son; none 'tall. They cain't pes- 
 ter ye as long as we stay up the river, an' by the 
 time we get back it's likely they'll know more about 
 it. If they don't, and pester ye, I'll stand by ye. 
 I never did quit a pardner yet, son, noway." 
 
 I felt better. I was sure now he didn't think it 
 was me killed Caley Byers; and he'd mighty nigh 
 admitted that murder would out. So I dropped it 
 and says, "Do the Hudson's Bay men trouble 
 much?" 
 
 "Yes, they do," he says. "They are stealin' this 
 territory, or tryin' to. They keep the Blackfeet 
 agin' us. I'm sure of that. They're Britishers, 
 too, an' belong over the line, but they don't stay 
 there; an' there'll be trouble over it yit." 
 
56 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Trouble ! It seemed like it was to be found every- 
 where. I thought of my own again. "Dad," I 
 says, "do you reckon you killed that officer?" 
 
 "Shoo ! no. His head'll be sore f er a day or such 
 a matter, that's all. I didn't go fer to kill him, no- 
 way Yonder's a turkey! Kill him, son, an* we'll 
 hev him fer supper." 
 
 I got down off my hoss, an* was drawing a bead 
 on the neck down close to his breast, when Dad 
 whispers, "Head or no meat, son head or no meat," 
 and I pulled down on the gobbler's old red head 
 mighty careful. Bow! she went. And I see right 
 away I'd done it slick. But Dad didn't say any- 
 thing. He just got down and picked up the turkey 
 while I was loading up. 
 
 We only took the best part of him and then went 
 on again. The country was changing some, I could 
 see, and the river, when we was near it, was pret- 
 tier'n ever. There was heaps of ducks and wild 
 geese in nigh every bend, and I begun to spot big 
 nests in trees old snags of trees, mostly. They 
 was built of good-sized sticks and looked rough and 
 ornery. Dad said they was goose nests. At first 
 I thought he was joking me, but he wa'n't. He 
 never did joke that way, never. He said the nests 
 was likely built by fish-hawks, mostly, but that the 
 geese took them over and used them. I'd never 
 heered of geese nesting in trees. It didn't sound 
 just right; so I asked him how in the nation the 
 young goslings got out of the nests without killing 
 theirse'fs. He said the old goose packed them out 
 when the time come. And that's the truth. I've 
 seen them do it many a time since then. And all 
 the way up the river we saw the nests in the old 
 lone snags along the river banks. I figured it out 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 57 
 
 why the geese nested in the trees, and 'twas plain 
 and good sense. The varmi'ts bothered a heap on 
 the ground, and aside from eagles nothing's got any 
 business in the air with an old wild goose. They're 
 smart's a whip, too. 
 
 It was after sundown when Dad left the trail. 
 He headed straight north from it and the river for 
 a spell. Then he turned into a thick grove of quak- 
 ing aspens where there was a cold spring of water 
 and a mighty snug place to camp, and got down. 
 
 "Git a fire goin', son," he said. "I'll stake the 
 hosses. Then we'll eat." 
 
 Dad fixed the turkey finer'n any I'd ever tasted, 
 and it didn't take him any time at all. I ate all I 
 could hold and felt fine, and sleepy as all time. Dad 
 went out to look at the hosses before he laid down, 
 and I never saw nor heered him come back. I was 
 sound asleep by the time he got out to them, I 
 reckon. 
 
 But I dreamt a heap. Aunt Lib was fretting all 
 through my dreams and Caley Byers and Bugle and 
 Joshua Moulds was all tangled up, so there wa'n't no 
 sense to them nothing straight or connected, like. 
 I heered Dad get up once and slip out to see if the 
 hosses was all right, but I never heered him come 
 back. He always got up and snooped around the 
 hosses every night like it was a habit, and I reck- 
 oned it was. 
 
 It wa'n't quite day when he kindled the fire, and 
 I got up and fetched in the hosses while he got 
 ready a bite to eat. In no time, we was back on 
 the trail, sailing along on the little Injin trot the 
 hosses liked and could keep up for a coon's age. 
 
 We didn't stop till 'way after noon. I killed an- 
 other turkey the only one we'd seen that day. We 
 
58 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 was out of the turkey country, Dad said, and it was 
 the last we saw. Dad cooked it good, and we had 
 him for supper. But I was plumb tired again and 
 went right to sleep and slept good till morning, 
 when we was off again on the same old trot. 
 
 The country was a heap different now. Trees 
 was getting scarcer and scarcer and the river wa'n't 
 quite so big and was some swifter and not so 
 muddy. Dad said he reckoned we could make the 
 place he figured on stopping at to wait for the out- 
 fit, if we traveled right smart. And we did ; though 
 it was plumb dark when we got there. Dad staked 
 the hosses and we just ate a cold snack and went to 
 sleep without any fuss of fixing things. 
 
 Dad was up and gone when I woke, and it was 
 quite a spell before he come back. I got a fire go- 
 ing and slipped out to the river and shot a goose for 
 breakfast. He was tougher'n all get out, but we 
 managed to eat him, or part of him. Then Dad and 
 I made a brush-lodge down by the river in the pret- 
 tiest spot there was, and begun to wait for the out- 
 fit to come. We set around in the shade and smoked 
 and talked. Dad talked to me right sociable all the 
 time. He told one story after another, and it wa'n't 
 long before I knowed Captain Lewis and Captain 
 Clark hadn't lied in that book of Biddle's. He 
 wouldn't talk much about Injin fights brushes, he 
 called them. But he'd had a lot of them, I could 
 see. He'd been on the plains for years and years 
 and said he couldn't see any change yet. That 
 made me glad. I was afraid I was too late to see 
 them like they ought to be. I said so, and that 
 tickled him a-plenty. 
 
 That evening Dad slipped out and fetched in a 
 deer and we had a big feast. I slept hard and was 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 59 
 
 plumb rested when morning come, and Dad was 
 humming to himse'f like he felt mighty fit, too. 
 
 Along towards noon here comes two big macki- 
 naws down the river, loaded like the ones I saw the 
 first day. The crew was singing, too, like the other 
 fellows, and I watched them sail past without hid- 
 ing out. 
 
 Then the next afternoon along come a keel-boat. 
 She was going up the river, creeping close to the 
 other shore like she was having a hard time with 
 the current. Thirty men was towing her by a long 
 thick rope, and they was singing like birds. It 
 was a monster boat, more'n seventy feet long and 
 loaded down, with trade goods and high wines, Dad 
 said. There was a spar up near the boat's prow, 
 and the tow-line was made fast to its top. Then 
 the line was passed from that down and through 
 an iron ring tied to a short piece of rope right in 
 her bow before it went ashore to the men. It was 
 a queer rig, and a queer way of handling a boat, I 
 thought. But she went along steady to the French 
 tunes, and I watched her till she went out of sight 
 around the bend above camp. It looked like a hard 
 job to pull a big heavy boat loaded with freight up 
 the river; but everybody appeared happy about it. 
 "Do they always sing that way, Dad?" I asked him, 
 after the boat was gone and only the tune was scal- 
 lowaggin' back through the trees. 
 
 "Mighty apt to sing when they've got the breath 
 to do it, son," he says. "But they're a bunch of old 
 women in a fight, mostly. One of 'em's worth two 
 or three of our kind on the river, but when it comes 
 to burnin' powder, they won't stand without hitch- 
 in'. They're a people by themse'fs, them fellers, 
 an' they git along with the In j ins a heap better 'n 
 
60 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 most folks does, too. Give 'em an axe or a canoe- 
 paddle or a pole, an* they can work circles around 
 us, but we beat 'em all holler when guns bark." 
 
 There was nothing to do only look at the river 
 and watch the logs coming down after that; but I 
 didn't tire of it. Nobody come along the trail either 
 way, until late in the afternoon of the fourth day, 
 when here come our outfit ten loaded mules and 
 three loose hosses, besides the ones the men was 
 riding. 
 
 Cracky ! I never did see such a sight. Here they 
 come stringing along one behind the other in the 
 trail and loaded down with goods. Some had big, 
 bulky loads and some had little, or none at all, it 
 looked like. Some of the packs was round and 
 others was lumpy and looked lop-sided, though they 
 wa'n't because they balanced. I could see that they 
 did when the hosses walked. First come Bill, then 
 a mare, then the mules, and last Joe, the camp- 
 tender. It was a sight. Here and there an axe 
 handle showed, or the barrel of a trade-gun poked 
 out from under a mantle; and all was rocking even 
 and swinging light and fine, as the mules followed 
 up the trail behind Bill and the mare. The loads 
 looked as though they'd been put on mighty care- 
 less, but I knowed they wa'n't, or they wouldn't 
 have balanced nor stayed. I made up my mind I'd 
 learn how to do it, for I knowed it was a big trick. 
 
 Directly Bill stopped at our camp. Then the 
 mare stopped, and every mule stopped in his tracks 
 when she did. Dad stepped up, and without even a 
 "howdy," begun to unpack, while I watched. 
 
 In a jiffy the first mule's pack was on the ground 
 and he was off and rolling fit to kill himse'f . Then 
 up walks another. Slam! his pack was off, and he 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 61 
 
 went out and rolled right in the spot where the first 
 had rolled. Then another and another, was un- 
 loaded, and so quick the mules had to wait for the 
 one ahead of them on the rolling-spot to get up, 
 before they could lay down to roll. I never did see 
 the beat. A body'd think there was a law against 
 rolling any place else but in that very spot the first 
 mule picked. And I reckon it is a law a mule- 
 law, because they never break it. I reckon a mule 
 would be afraid of bad luck if he didn't roll where 
 his partner did. I thought the first mule had away 
 the best of it. He could pick the rolling spot, and 
 if he was spiteful he could play even with an enemy 
 by picking out a bad place and just pretending to 
 roll. It was queer. Dad said burros did the same 
 thing said it was a jackass trait, anyway. 
 
 Everybody knowed just what to do and did it 
 all except me; and I looked on. In no time the 
 packs was all piled neat and close, but not mixed 
 up. I mean loads was kept separate, so their parts 
 could go together again without fussing to fix them 
 over. I soon saw the smallest looking ones was 
 heavier'n they seemed. 
 
 Directly the camp-keeper went off with the hosses 
 and mules. He staked the mare, hobbled the loose 
 hosses and the saddle animals, but left the mules to 
 run loose. It was done so quick and so slick I 
 couldn't see how they managed so good. Dad had 
 pitched in the minute they come, and now he was 
 wiping the sweat off' n his face and laughing. 
 
 Directly he says, "Bill, this here's the boy I was 
 tellin' ye 'bout. An' Lige," he says to me, "this 
 here's my pardner an' yours, Bill Hanks." 
 
 Bill shook hands warm, like. "Howdy," he says. 
 "I like yer looks. Bet me an' you gits along good." 
 
62 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 I liked Bill soon's i saw him. And I liked him 
 better every day after that. He wa'n't nigh so tall 
 as Dad not quite so tail's me and I could see he 
 wa'n't so smart's Dad was, but good clean to the 
 bone. His face was kinder fat and his eyes was red 
 some ; but he was likelier to laugh than Dad. He'd 
 laugh sometimes when I couldn't see anything 
 worth while. I saw that Dad tied to him; so I 
 knowed right away he was better'n he looked. But 
 beside Dad he seemed stout and fat and not half 
 so quick on his feet, though he was younger, I 
 judged by mighty nigh ten years. His hair was 
 black, but grayer'n Dad's and not so long nor thick. 
 When he took off his head silk that night I saw he 
 was getting bald on the top of his head. 
 
 After a little Joe come in from taking care of 
 the stock. I'd seen him in Dad's lodge in St. Louis, 
 and I'd a-knowed him anywhere. When he come 
 up to the fire, Dad says, "Joe, this is Lige Mounts, 
 our new pardner, and, Lige Mounts, this here's Joe 
 Dent, our skinner an' camp-keeper." 
 
 We shook hands. Joe was a little man, and quick- 
 moving. He had the nicest eyes I ever see in a 
 man's head, except Dad's. They was blue as a 
 robin's egg and not one mite shifty. He was 
 younger'n Dad or Bill round thirty somewheres, I 
 judged and slender-built. He never had much to 
 say, speaking when he did in a voice a heap like 
 Dad's, quiet, like, and sure. He had a scar on his 
 right cheek, straight and about's wide's my little 
 finger. It run clean across his cheek from a mite 
 above his mouth. I figured I'd ask him how he got 
 it, but I never did. Dad said he'd never asked him, 
 but he reckoned it was a bullet-crease. It sure 
 looked like it, and I reckon 'twas, and proof that 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 63 
 
 he'd been shot at, once, anyway, and mighty nigh 
 got, at that. 
 
 We had a big supper with tea and bread and 
 meat and corn syrup and all. Cracky ! but it tasted 
 good, and I filled up a-plenty. Then we smoked a 
 while and everybody talked all but me; and I lis- 
 tened. Directly Joe went out to look after the 
 stock, and Dad went over to the packs and when he 
 come back to the fire, handed me a bundle of clothes. 
 
 "I found these among my possibles an' fixin's," 
 he says. "Better put 'em on in the mornin'. They'll 
 make ye look more like ye belonged to the outfit, 
 anyway." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Cracky! I was glad to get the clothes Dad give 
 me. I looked them over right away, though it was 
 dark and I couldn't see very good. They was quill- 
 worked like Dad's, only not so much. I reckoned 
 they'd be pretty big for me ; but I knowed buckskin 
 kept gettin' longer and longer when you wore it, so 
 nobody would think anything of it, even if we met 
 up with anybody, which I didn't reckon on much. 
 
 It must have been nigh midnight when I got to 
 sleep, but I rested good after I started in to. First 
 I knowed it was morning, and while the men was 
 getting in the stock, I made out to dress up. I 
 popped on the leggings first. They was too long, 
 so I cut on* a slice round the tops. Then they was 
 just right. I got the whole riggin' on before Dad 
 come in. He was tickled, or 'peared to be. I 
 couldn't get the hang of the head-silk, which was 
 yellow, so he showed me. Then he took my old 
 clothes and put them in the packs. He said they 
 might come handy, but he didn't know what f er. 
 
 Cracky! I felt fine in those clothes free and 
 loose every place, and mighty pretty, too, I reck- 
 oned, all fringed and fine. Besides they showed 
 they had been wore a lot, and that suited me 
 exactly. 
 
 I watched the men pack, two working together, 
 one on the off-side and one on the nigh-side, and 
 the nigh-side man throwed the hitch. It made me 
 stare to see how fast they packed the mules, once 
 they was saddled. But they was mighty careful 
 about the saddling, I tell you. Some was saw-buck 
 
 64 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 65 
 
 saddles and some aparajos, and when they come to 
 one old sorrel mule they throwed a sack over his 
 head before they tackled him. He was ornery as 
 all time ; but one of the best in the lot when he was 
 finally packed. 
 
 I saddled my hoss and was all ready when they 
 was, the men having saddled their hosses before 
 they begun to pack the mules. So away we went. 
 
 The three loose hosses was a heap better'n the 
 ones the men was riding, I noticed, built fine and 
 full of life. One of them was white as snow and 
 built like a quarter-hoss. Anybody could see he 
 could run like all time. Then there was a roan 
 a fine hoss, but heavier'n the white. The other was 
 a bay. He was mighty nigh a perfect hoss mighty 
 nigh's good's the roan, I thought; but I'd never seen 
 a hoss like the white gelding, never, big or little. 
 
 The country kept changing, and sometimes we 
 was nigh the river and again we'd be quite a piece 
 away from it. I rode up with Dad ; and I liked to 
 look back and see the mules coming along on the 
 trail, one right behind the other, and Joe 'way back 
 yonder keeping them knitting along and close up. 
 It sure did look fine. Bill was right behind me 
 leading the mare. Her pack was light just knick- 
 knacks and clothes and light truck, but every mule'd 
 follow her to certain death, and her tracks was 
 their tracks, no matter where they led. Dad said 
 'twas another jackass trait. But it was a good one 
 like most of them is. 
 
 It was hotter 'n all time that day. But along late 
 in the afternoon it rained some, and that cooled 
 the air. Most every night I learned something new; 
 and every night something would start Dad or Bill 
 to tell a yarn. Some of them was funny, and some 
 
66 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 wa'n't. Some was mighty bad accidents or rows. 
 And they talked a heap about the Hudson's Bay 
 Company and the ornery doings of their trappers 
 and traders in our territory. 
 
 Joe never talked much, but somehow I got to 
 liking him more every day. And many a time I 
 thought that three better men couldn't be found no- 
 where, than Dad, Bill and Joe. 
 
 We traveled day in and day out for long spells. 
 Then we'd rest a day or two. One morning early 
 in August when the men saddled up, they saddled 
 the three hosses with little pads, and bridled them, 
 too. When they started out, every man was lead- 
 ing a spare hoss, Dad having the white gelding. 
 Soon's we got strung out he says: 
 
 "From now on, son, we take no fool chances of 
 havin' visitors, an* nobody's to leave the pack-train 
 or the camp without the rest knowin' about it be- 
 forehand. Understand me? 
 
 I did, and said so. 
 
 "Any time now," he says, "we're liable to get into 
 it. We are drawin' nigh to the country where 
 there's always been enough trouble to go 'round, an' 
 if we don't find none, we'll be lucky. You'd best 
 ride back yonder with Joe, now, f er a spell." 
 
 I did hate to leave Dad But cracky! I was 
 glad we was getting to the Injin country; or I 
 thought I was. I rode along back and fell in be- 
 hind Joe with the queerest feeling a man ever had. 
 I was glad and sorry all mixed up, if you know 
 what I mean. 
 
 That night when we camped the packs was all 
 strung in a circle with the fire built inside it, small 
 and no-account. As soon's the stock was 'tended 
 to, Joe went on guard on a knoll where he could 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 67 
 
 see the bosses and mules and the camp, and a good 
 bit of the country around. Before day Dad and 
 Bill took their turns on the knoll; and when morn- 
 ing come, durned if I didn't feel off my feed, every- 
 body was so quiet, like, and careful. 
 
 We started out quite a bit before sunup, Dad 
 and Bill riding more'n a quarter ahead and far 
 apart, and Joe and me back with the mules. Both 
 Dad and Bill was leading their spare hosses, and 
 Joe had the extra bay saddled with his pad. 
 
 The country was all changed now all rolling 
 plains with trees down along the river. But that 
 was far away most of the time now, because of the 
 bad-lands, which was hummicky and rough. We 
 begun to see queer flat-topped hills, yellow, like, and 
 with now and then a scrub cedar growing on their 
 sides. Some of the hills was reddish, and others 
 bluish-gray. And there was deep coulees, all lead- 
 ing down into the badlands by the river, their bot- 
 toms stony and washed bare by melting spring 
 snows. And cracky! the antelope. There was 
 thousands of them. 
 
 As soon's the sun come it got hotter'n all time 
 again and the dust raised by the animals dried my 
 nose and throat. We kept above the coulees but 
 could see them running down to lose theirse'fs in 
 the bad lands ; or clear to the river, sometimes. Off 
 ahead was endless plains and knolls and little cou- 
 lees and bands of antelope. The antelope would 
 stand and watch us till we got mighty nigh to them, 
 then Scat! away they'd go, all white as snow be- 
 hind. They was pretty and slick, and how they 
 could run ! I'd see them start off, hundreds of them, 
 and first I knowed they was gone down in a coulee 
 'way ahead; then up they'd come on another knoll, 
 
68 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 where they'd stand waiting till we got mighty nigh 
 to them, when away they'd go like all get out. 
 
 One morning when we started out, Dad and Bill 
 turned their regular saddle-hosses in with the pack 
 train with their saddles on them, and set off afoot, 
 leading the spare hosses with the pads on. All the 
 forenoon we traveled straight across the country, 
 paying no attention to the river or the trail. The 
 sun was blistering hot. Everything was parched 
 and dry as a bone. I wished it was sundown many 
 a time. 
 
 It was afternoon, about two o'clock, I reckon, 
 when I saw old Bill 'way up ahead, stop and get on 
 his roan. But I couldn't see Dad at all. "In j ins !" 
 says Joe right away. And a squeamish feeling 
 come over me quicker'n scat. "Bunch 'em up ! Bunch 
 'em, up! and head 'em into that coulee yonder 
 quick!" Joe dug his heels into his hoss's sides. 
 And directly we was in the little coulee and couldn't 
 see Bill. 
 
 "Git down and tie every mule's nose close to his 
 fetlock like this," and Joe begun to tie. 
 
 So did I, but was awkward. It seemed the raw- 
 hide ropes was bigger'n my arm and stiff as all get 
 out. 
 
 Joe says, "Tighten yer cinch, and look sharp !" 
 
 Right then I heered lickety-lickety-lickety ! and I 
 cocked my rifle. Hosses! I could hear them. Joe 
 heered them too. His riflelock went click-click! 
 
 Then all of a sudden something come to the rim 
 of the coulee. It was Dad ! and I wilted right down 
 just seemed to be all tuckered out. 
 
 "It's a false alarm, Joe," he says. "Git 'em 
 strung out again. Three whitemen's a-comin'. 
 They been running some buffalo up yonder, an' 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 69 
 
 when I see the dust an' the movin' herd, I thought 
 'twas Injins, myself, but we're in luck, I reckon. 
 Bill's gone to meet up with 'em." 
 
 Buffalo at last ! I forgot my scare. 
 
 When we got started again, I could see four hoss- 
 men coming towards us, riding fast. "Looks like 
 Mike Fink and his pardners that's with Bill, Joe," 
 said Dad, gazing hard at the oncoming men. "I 
 know they wintered in these parts. That's jest 
 who 'tis that's Mike on the buckskin." 
 
 I never did see men so glad to meet up with folks 
 as this Mike Fink and his pardners was. They 
 shook hands all around, and was nigh tickled to 
 death. 
 
 Mike was fine built, about as tall as Bill. I could 
 see he'd be a hard man to handle in a rough-and- 
 tumble. He had dark hair and black eyes. I didn't 
 like his eyes. They wa'n't good to look at. But he 
 was quick on his feet. One of his pardners, Car- 
 penter, they called him, was about the same size as 
 Fink, but light complected, with pale blue eyes, and 
 a short neck. He was stout and slow-moving, and 
 I could see Fink was quicker-witted then he was. 
 Then there was Talbot, lean and thin, with brown 
 hair and awful hairy arms and hands. He was 
 about as tall as me, and older'n Fink or Carpenter, 
 a little, and not so stout. He was the quietest one 
 of the three, but saw most everything, with his 
 eyes about half -shut, at that. He had big ears, and 
 one of them had a notch out of it. I reckoned it had 
 been bit out or froze out, mebby. They didn't look 
 like our folks, none of them. 
 
 They wanted Dad and Bill to turn off to the river 
 where their camp was. They said if we would, 
 they'd go on with us to the Ashley-Henry Post at 
 
70 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 the mouth of the Yellowstone. I remember Fink 
 said, "We need yer company, Dad. Me an* Carpen- 
 ter and Talbot's gittin' plumb tired of each other. 
 There's In j ins between here an* the Post, and we 
 kin help ye stand 'em off." 
 
 It was soon settled; and we headed towards the 
 river, careless, like, for Fink and his pardners said 
 the country was safe between them and their camp. 
 
 "We made a killin' today for tongues," Fink said, 
 "an* when we git to camp we'll feed up good. We 
 made a bully ketch last winter, too, but drinked 
 it all up at the Post this spring sold out there. We 
 couldn't wait," he laughed. He was full of talk 
 and rattled on like he was wanting to get rid of it 
 to somebody new. "Camp's jest around that p'int 
 of timber on the river," he says. "We'll ride ahead 
 an' git somethin' cookin'. Come on, pardners!" 
 And away they went, Bill with them, leaving Dad 
 and me together. 
 
 "That's a bad one that Mike Fink," Dad said, 
 after they rode away. "He's the best rifle shot I 
 ever see, too; but he ain't right noway. Both his 
 pardners is tarred with the same stick both of 
 'em crack shots, especially Carpenter. All of 'em'll 
 fight at the drop of the hat, so don't git into no 
 argument with 'em they're a bad lot. 
 
 "I heered Fink and Carpenter hed hed a bad row 
 last fall," he went on. "Seems they must hev made 
 it up again. They hev all been pardners f er a long 
 spell, an' their doin's are as ornery as they are 
 themse'fs. Carpenter lets Fink shoot a tin cup of 
 whisky off'n his head at seventy yards, and Fink 
 lets Carpenter do the same, each declarin' it shows 
 confidence between 'em. But Mike's a borned rat- 
 tlesnake. Once I knowed him to shoot the heel off'n 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 71 
 
 a nigger in St. Louis, 'cause he said the nigger had 
 a homely foot, an* couldn't wear a boot with sech 
 a heel, noway. He's good company, though, when 
 he ain't in liquor, 'an' with 'em we kin stand off a 
 whole passel of Injins. But I jest thought I'd tell 
 ye that none of 'em's the sort I tie to, ginerally. 
 Git up, Badger !" and he sent a rope-end cracking at 
 a lagging mule. 
 
 "Fink would be a bad one in a rough-and-tum- 
 ble," I says, wanting him to talk more, while we 
 was alone. 
 
 "He shore is, son; an* everybody knows him fer 
 one bully that will shore enough fight. He'll go in 
 any time, er any way. An' when he goes, he goes 
 to win kick, bite, gouge, er shoot. Even a knife's 
 a weapon with Mike Fink." 
 
 "Dad," I says, "when we get to the Fort I ain't 
 goin' to forget to write that letter back. I been 
 fretting some, account they'll think mebby I killed 
 Caley Byers." 
 
 "Shoo ! no they won't, son. But write the letter, 
 anyway. We ought to git to the Post in six or 
 seven days, dependin' on how long we stop at Fink's 
 camp." 
 
 Just then, wheel there was an awful smell. 
 "Something's dead nigh here," I says, looking up 
 the wind and feeling it was like to turn my 
 stomach. 
 
 "Buffalo," says Dad. "Yonder's a bunch of 'em. 
 Been killed fer their tongues. The wolves has got 
 'em pretty well cleaned up, but they do load the 
 breeze some, shore 'nuff." 
 
 I'd heered Fink say they'd made a killing for 
 tongues, but the sight of the big carcasses, plumb 
 
72 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 wasted, seemed more'n wicked "Do they just take 
 the tongues, Dad?" I asked him, feeling r'iled. 
 
 "Tongues, most always hides an' tongues, at 
 times," he says, like he didn't want to talk about it. 
 But directly he says, "Does look like provokin' the 
 wrath of the Almighty, son; but they's millions of 
 'em, millions of 'em. I try not to do useless killin', 
 but I'm a skin-hunter, an' do heaps more'n is in 
 keepin* with my conscience." 
 
 He knocked the ashes out of his pipe and looked 
 straight at me, as though he had a notion to say 
 something else, but more'n half a mind not to. Then 
 he says : "Son, conscience is like a bird-dog pup, an' 
 kin be learned to forgit natural traits, 'specially 
 when he's runnin' with a pack of hounds. Mine's 
 dulled right smart, I reckon ; but the older I grow, 
 the less I like to kill an* the more I like to live where 
 there's echoes sleepin' along the streams an' danger 
 enough to spice the plains. To live here I hev to 
 foller my trade, an' it's that of a killer. But some 
 day I'm goin' to settle down in some pretty spot 
 where the mountains meet the plains, an* where the 
 clear, cold streams are contributin' fresh snow- 
 water to this here river. Then I'll hev 'em all with 
 me, an' jest take what I want an' need out of the 
 herds an' from the waters, same's the Injin did be- 
 fore our kind come here to learn him to he'p rob his 
 own land f er a few yards of bright-colored cloth, er 
 a blanket. There's them among the In j ins that sees 
 all this as plain as the rump of an antelope when 
 he's leaving the country, an' it's them that puts the 
 fight in the rest. An' they're the wise ones. It's the 
 ornery ones that only 1 sees the blankets an' the cloth 
 an' the liquor. But civilization that's what some 
 calls it is bound to spread, an' the Injin must be 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 73 
 
 swept before it, as well as the buffalo. There ain't 
 a speck of what's a-botherin* you in civilization, son. 
 It's as hard as old Pharaoh's heart, an' ought to be a 
 trapper. 
 
 "It takes the snows to soften us. Any natural 
 boy's a born savage, white, red, er black; an' the 
 ring in the nose an' the ring on the finger ain't so 
 mighty fer apart, noway. We men folks hev quit 
 wearin' 'em in our nose, an' mostly in our ears, but 
 we still buy 'em fer our women an' they hang 'em 
 in their ears yit. But jest the same we're plumb 
 ready to swear a man's a savage that wears 'em like 
 we used to, 'cause we've swore off, an* they ain't 
 quite ready. Yonder's the camp." 
 
 The sun was low, and a breeze had sprung up and 
 stirred the grass. The hosses saw the camp as soon 
 as we did, and perked up right away. There was 
 a fire going and some kettles hanging over it, and 
 the cooking meat smelled good. 
 
 As soon's the mules was unpacked old Bill got out 
 a flat keg of high wines and treated. Everybody but 
 Dad and me he'ped theirse'f s plenty, an' they all got 
 talking right fast. 
 
 I soon saw there was bad blood between Mike 
 Fink and Carpenter. It showed up right away after 
 old Bill got out his flat keg. It's curious how little 
 it takes to find trouble when you're looking for it 
 hard. After drinking two tin cups nigh full, Mike 
 Fink would have mistaken a "howdy" for a cuss 
 word, I reckon. 
 
 Carpenter emptied his cup and says, "I'll be 
 bread-maker, an' make some bread." 
 
 "Ye will not ! I'll tend to the fine p'ints, myse'f !" 
 
 That was Mike Fink, and his voice was high and 
 angry. Both of them started for our pack where the 
 
74 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 meal was, overturning some kettles in the race. 
 They reached the pack together, and stood glaring 
 at each other like a couple of cur-dogs, neither dar- 
 ing to pick up the sack. Mike's fists was doubled 
 tight and his knuckles was white's his face. 
 
 "Now, now!" cried Talbot, springing from his 
 seat by a tree and running to his partners. "Now, 
 don't make no fight in yer own camp when there's 
 company 'round yer fire. Ye've made it all up once. 
 Let it stay that way." 
 
 He took hold of Carpenter's arm and pulled him 
 away a piece. 
 
 "All right, my hearty, make the damned bread !" 
 said Fink, spitting cotton. "I'll quit," he says. "I'm 
 a bully good quitter. Everybody knows that !" 
 
 He come back to the fire, grabbed up a stick, and 
 stirred the meat in the kettles, jabbing and poking 
 vicious.* A magpie come into the grove and lit on a 
 limb near the camp. Mike grabbed up his rifle and 
 cocked it. "Watch me cut the beak off'n that 
 damned bird yonder," he says. 
 
 Bow! The poor bird fluttered down with his 
 beak cut clean off next his head. It seemed to re- 
 lieve Mike. Something or somebody had to settle 
 for his temper, and the bird paid the bill. After 
 that he was cheerful and good-natured as anybody. 
 
 But I remembered what Dad had told me about 
 him. I was proud because he'd told me what he 
 thought about things, generally. I liked what he'd 
 said. It seemed to me I'd always thought the same, 
 only I couldn't have put it like he did. I thought 
 about it all a heap and I felt closer to Dad than ever 
 before. I reckoned if he even did settle down like 
 he said, I'd stick by him and settle there, too. 
 
 When Mike got r'iled over the break-making, old 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 75 
 
 Bill had put his keg away, and I was glad. But he 
 got it out again that night while Joe was on guard. 
 It loosened tongues; and the men begun to swap 
 news. Dad and Bill told what they'd learned in St. 
 Louis, and the others told the news of the Post and 
 the plains, which was what I liked to hear. I felt 
 squeamish for fear Fink and Carpenter would get 
 at it again, but old Bill was careful. And I reckon 
 Dad had a hand in his stinginess, for he didn't offer 
 to treat very often. 
 
 "Where's Little Pete this season?" asked Dad, 
 putting a small stick on the fire. 
 
 "He's dead," said Carpenter. "Pore Little Pete 
 had a hard time of it crossin', too. He got into it 
 with the Blackfeet. They stampeded his pack 
 hosses first. Then Pete made a ride for it. But they 
 killed his pony under him. Somehow the old man 
 managed to hide in the sage 'till they left him. It 
 was late in January, an' that night a bad blizzard hit 
 the plains the worst we'd hed. Pete tried to make 
 the Post, but his foot was nigh shot away. Of 
 course the Injins didn't know that, or they'd got 
 him. They told a half-breed about the fight, an' 
 'lowed Little Pete had made the Post. But Teed and 
 Snow found what was left of him among the ribs 
 of a buffalo bull ten days after. The wolves hed et 
 pretty much of both him an' the bull. The pore little 
 devil must hev shot the bull an' gutted him an' 
 crawled inside to keep from freezin'. Most likely 
 the meat froze an' held him there till he froze, him- 
 se'f . Anyhow, they found him that a-way ten days 
 after the fight. It must hev been a hard crossin' f er 
 Little Pete." 
 
 "Shoo! shore was. How fer was he from the 
 Post?" asked Dad, filling his pipe. 
 
76 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "Not more'n ten mile; an* if Teed hedn't seen a 
 white wolf near the carcass, nobody'd ever knowed 
 what went with him, most likely." 
 
 "Well, I reckon I'll slip out an* relieve Joe," says 
 Dad, getting up. 
 
 I wanted to go with him, but he said, "No, turn in. 
 Ye'll git yer share soon enough." 
 
 When Joe come in he went right to his blankets. 
 I reckoned Dad had told him to. Old Bill took the 
 hint, too, and put his flat keg in the pack. It wa'n't 
 long after that till the little fire was plumb out and 
 Mike Fink snoring like all get out. 
 
 But I couldn't go to sleep. The story of Little 
 Pete wouldn't let me. All night long the awfulness 
 of the thing kept me turning and tossing, till I 
 could fairly see the man inside the dead buffalo and 
 hear the wolves gnawing the frozen meat in the 
 bitter storm. 
 
 Besides, I heered Mike Fink stirring in the night. 
 I reckoned they'd got out the flat keg again, and 
 that pestered me, along with the other. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 I must have gone to sleep just before day, for I 
 woke up when Dad started the fire. I didn't reckon 
 I'd been asleep more'n ten minutes, though. I 
 crawled out and went down to the river and had 
 a swim. That freshened me up. On the way back 
 I met Dad coming down with a couple of kettles, and 
 I turned back with him. Down by the river I says, 
 "Dad, is it true that a man ever gutted a buffalo and 
 crawled inside to save himse'f from a blizzard?" 
 
 "I'm too durned long, myse'f," he laughed, "but 
 I'm shore men hes done it. I've heered of it bein' 
 done more'n once. Pete was a little feller, and there 
 ain't no doubt he did it. Ye see, son, all of us hes 
 heered of it bein' done, an' in desperation a little 
 man would be apt to try it when it was an only 
 chance f er life. Yes, I reckon it's true Little Pete 
 done it." 
 
 "Are we goin' to start to-morrow, Dad?" I asked, 
 while he filled the kettles. 
 
 "Figgered on it," he says, "but it don't look like it 
 now. Bill's full, an' Fink's drunk. Must hev 
 drinked in the night, I reckon. Never knowed Bill 
 to drink in the Injin country before. I don't like 
 to travel that a-way. The keg's nigh half full yit, 
 an* if they've got to finish it, this is as good a place 
 as any better'n the trail. Guess we'll go out an' 
 move the stock a bit. They been camped here so 
 long the grass is nigh too short close in." 
 
 "I'll go along with you," I says, taking a kettle of 
 water. 
 
 I was mighty sorry we'd met up with Mike Fink, 
 
 77 
 
78 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 but I didn't say so. I knowed Dad was sorry, too. 
 But I reckoned he figured we needed he'p to get to 
 the Post, so mebby it would turn out for the best in 
 the end. Anyway, I figured from what Dad had 
 said the keg held all the liquor there was in the 
 packs. 
 
 We left the kettles in camp and Dad called the 
 men. Right away Bill got out the keg again. 
 
 Joe was on guard. He wa'n't drinking like Bill ; 
 but mebby it was easier for him not to, and that 
 makes a heap of difference. He was in the top of a 
 big cottonwood near the edge of the grove, where 
 a seat had been fixed and a way to get up. 
 
 "I see a big cloud of dust to the west," he says, 
 when we come under the tree. 
 
 "Buffalo," asked Dad, looking away across the 
 plains. 
 
 "Yes, I make out it's buffalo, an' an awful herd 
 of 'em, too." 
 
 "Runnin'?" 
 
 "Can't make out." 
 
 "Hope not. Look scattering Joe. Me an' Lige 
 will move the stock, but if the buffalo's runnin' we'd 
 best drive the stock into the timber." 
 
 "I'll look sharp. But I don't think they're run- 
 nin'," says Joe. 
 
 We went on out to the stock and moved our staked 
 hosses, and then climbed a knoll and saw the dust 
 rolling up in the still morning air. The dust cloud 
 was miles long, and the sun, just coming up, lit on 
 it like a long, wide trail of gold hanging between 
 the ground and the blue sky. It was a curious sight, 
 and mighty pretty. 
 
 "They ain't runnin'," says Dad, after a spell. 
 "But jest the same I cal'late we'd best move the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 79 
 
 stock into the timber. That's a whopping* big herd, 
 an* it's headin' too close in. The mules might stam- 
 pede. Git on yer hoss, an* we'll drive everything to 
 camp theirs an* ours. No call to take chances. 
 Shake yerse'f I" 
 
 When we got to the tree where Joe was, driving 
 the stock ahead of us, Dad called to him, "Come 
 down, Joe ! Lige'll take yer place." 
 
 That tickled me, and I climbed up to the seat with 
 my rifle. It was higher'n it looked from the ground. 
 I could see a long way up and down the river and out 
 over the plains. The men in the camp was stringing 
 rawhide ropes from tree to tree, in no time makin' 
 a rope corral three ropes high around the hosses 
 and mules. 
 
 Then Dad come back to the tree, "Look scatterin', 
 son I" he called. "An* if ye should see In j ins behind 
 that herd, let us know it quick's ye kin. But I 
 reckon the herd's driftin'. Anyway, ye'll see they's 
 buffalo left, an' before night ye'll say so." 
 
 Then he went back to the camp and begun shaping 
 up and piling different, the others helping some, 
 especially Joe. 
 
 The cloud of dust kept coming nearer and nearer. 
 I couldn't see no end to it, an' I reckoned it was 
 more'n half a mile wide. Directly I could hear a low 
 rumbling and then pretty soon I could see a black 
 line down under the dust. I knowed it was buffalo, 
 but it was just a black line without any breaks in it. 
 And right over it and back of it, the dust rolled up 
 in a cloud that kept getting bigger and bigger and 
 nearer and nearer. 
 
 The rumbling come on louder and louder, till I 
 could feel the ground tremble like an earthquake 
 was shaking it. Directly, here they was ! right at 
 
80 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 the edge of the grove. I could see the leaders plain. 
 Their black tongues was lolling out and they looked 
 to be nigh winded, but kept on going straight and 
 steady. Then the dust hit me and hid the herd. I 
 reckoned they was going to skip the camp, but I 
 couldn't see. 
 
 In less'n a minute I couldn't have heered a cannon 
 go off, nor I couldn't even think. The ground was 
 shaking so the tree jiggled, and I took hold of a limb 
 to hold on to. The noise was awful ! Horns pound- 
 ing against horns, hoofs clicking, and the ornery 
 snorting grunts worse'n a nightmare. The smell 
 of thousands of heated animal bodies crowded close 
 and going fast, come up to me with the dust. My 
 throat and nose was dry. I'd have given anything 
 for a drink of water. But to go down now was out 
 of the question. 
 
 Hours went by. They seemed like nights to me. 
 Dark come on, and still the thunder of the herd was 
 bad as ever. My eyes was smarting, and my tongue 
 was parched. I couldn't see a foot from my nose. 
 I wondered if there ever would come an end to that 
 herd. It didn't seem as though it had any. There 
 wa'n't any lessening of the noise. I couldn't have 
 told how long I'd been in the tree, if I died for it. 
 
 It must have been past midnight when I thought 
 the roar was falling off some. But I wa'n't sure. 
 My ears wa'n't dependable. They wouldn't rest, 
 even when I knowed the drags was going by and 
 the end had come, sure enough. 
 
 Cracky! My teeth gritted with sand, and my 
 ears thumped with the clicking and grunting and 
 booming of hoofs, long after I knowed they was 
 gone. I couldn't seem to gather myse'f to climb 
 down jest set there a spell, kind of numb. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 81 
 
 All of a sudden I thought, "Mebby the herd come 
 through the grove !" That stirred me, and I started 
 down. My legs was asleep and numb, and I was 
 afraid I'd fall. But at last I got to the ground. The 
 dust was settling and I heered Dad's voice. "Drive 
 'em to the water," he says, and I run into camp. 
 
 "I'll take 'em !" I says. "Cracky ! I can drink that 
 old river plumb dry, myse'f ." 
 
 Dad come along with me. "See any buffalo, son?" 
 he says, brushing the dust off his sleeves. 
 
 "No," I says, "but I heered and smelled a million, 
 I reckon, and I don't care if I never see any." 
 
 "Shoo ! don't say that, son," he says, serious, like. 
 "It's the buffalo that makes livin' possible, an' I'm 
 glad ye know the supply ain't noways threatened 
 yit. Anyway, the buffalo sobered our pardners, an' 
 Bill's put away his keg. Besides we can't stay here 
 now. So I reckon mebby we'll move sooner'n I 
 figured." 
 
 Cracky ! I was glad. 
 
 The moonlight was just beginning to pierce the 
 dust, and everything looked queer and different. 
 Every mule had changed his color or lost it, I 
 mean. They was the same color as the men's 
 clothes. Even the leaves on the trees and bushes 
 was coated over with a whitish yellow. And noth- 
 ing on earth could have et the grass for a mile or 
 more, I reckon. 
 
 I took off my clothes and shook them and waded 
 out and sat down in the river to watch the hosses 
 and mules drink. Some of them waded far out, and 
 some drank till I thought they'd kill theirse'fs. I 
 washed my head and wallowed around till the stock 
 got tired and left. Then Dad drove them back to 
 the corral, and I come out and put on my clothes. 
 
82 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Everybody was grouchy. The herd had got on 
 everybody's nerves. 
 
 "Boy, rustle up some wood an* we'll cook an* eat. 
 I'm wolfish," says Mike Fink, and I went at it and 
 got some wood. His eyes was red, and I knowed he 
 felt as touchy's a setting hen. 
 
 "We'll hev to pull out of here," he says to Dad. 
 "The stock won't eat the grass no more, an' we'll 
 have to move." 
 
 "It's mighty nigh day," says Dad. "My idee is 
 to cross the river soon's we kin. I figger there'll 
 be In j ins close to that herd." 
 
 "We kin make a short cut," says Fink. "There's 
 a good crossing above here a mile, an' soon's we 
 cross we kin strike straight for the Post an' camp 
 on a creek that runs into the river. We kin git to 
 it by four o'clock." 
 
 "I reckon the stock kin stand it," says Dad. 
 "They'll hev to. Joe, you start shapin' up the packs. 
 Lige'll he'p ye. Me an* Bill will saddle up while 
 ye're gettin' somelhin* ready to eat, Mike." 
 
 The moon was hanging low when we got started 
 up the river. The hosses was glad to get away and 
 was saying so, snuffling and blowing the dust out of 
 their noses. Fink was ahead, knowing the crossing, 
 and I rode with Dad. Just as the moon was drop- 
 ping out of sight, I saw Fink ride into the river, 
 followed by Bill and the mare. Then the mules 
 splashed in; and the pack-train, crossing the river 
 in the fag end of the moonlight, was mighty pretty 
 to see. Fink's hoss, when he got to the center where 
 the deep shadows of the trees on the other side fell 
 on the water, was nigh swimming. I lost sight of 
 him for a minute, but directly heered his hoofs on 
 the stones on the other side. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 83 
 
 We made a good crossing and was mighty soon 
 out and heading across the country in the dark, for 
 the moon was plumb gone and the stars was fading 
 out for day to come. It's darker just then than any 
 other time just between night and coming day. 
 The pack train looked like lumps on the plain, and 
 was longer'n ever because of our new pardners' 
 stock strung along with ours, some packed and 
 some with just pack-saddles on their backs. The 
 wolves was howling on the other side, plenty of 
 them. They was following the big herd, picking up 
 the wounded and the weak, I reckoned. 
 
 Then morning come and there was more antelope 
 than ever. It was blistering hot when the sun got 
 up good, and the stock was tired and mighty hungry, 
 too. But we kept on till nigh sundown, when we 
 stopped on a little sluggish stream to make camp. 
 
 A double guard went out with the stock that 
 night, and after supper Fink climbed a knoll to 
 watch, too. All night long the wolves howled up 
 along the little stream, and it was so hot I couldn't 
 sleep. I didn't hear the guard come in, or the other 
 men go out, though, so I slept more'n I reckoned. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 We was up and stirring before daylight, but made 
 no fire just ate a cold bite and started soon's we 
 could. It was going to be another blistering hot 
 day, and I was glad we'd started early. Mike Fink, 
 leading his war-hoss, was more'n a quarter ahead of 
 the train, and Dad and I leading our hosses, walked 
 nigh as far ahead of the mules as he, only to one 
 side, like. It was light, but not yet sunup when Dad 
 says, "Son, I feel shore they's Injins close. Twice 
 last night when I was on guard the mules smelled 
 'em an' was restless. Better keep yer eyes peeled 
 good an' keep a-lookin' scatterin'. Watch Fink, too, 
 always or whoever's ahead. Best drop back behind 
 me a bit, an' out a little so's we'll cover more 
 territory." 
 
 We went on ahead a piece, and I cut out farther, 
 feel he knowed more'n he'd told, mebby. I 
 looked mighty careful but couldn't see a thing not 
 even an antelope. Directly Dad stopped and beck- 
 oned and I hurried up to him. He was standing 
 beside a partly butchered buffalo in a little coulee. 
 
 "I was shore of it, son," he says. "The mules 
 was right last night. It's a wonder the Injins didn't 
 come at us at daybreak. Wait here till the train 
 comes up, an' tell the boys to look scatterin' an' keep 
 the stock bunched. I'm goin' ahead. But if any- 
 thing starts I'll come back, too." 
 
 A hot wind had sprung up with the sun. Sage 
 hens scurried into the sage, holding their wings 
 away from their bodies and their beaks wide apart. 
 They was so close and tame I could see their eyes 
 
 84 
 
LIGE MOUNTS : FREE TRAPPER 85 
 
 and their panting throats. My mouth got dry just 
 looking at them, and my knees felt weak like, and 
 tired out. I knowed Dad expected trouble, and I 
 was more afraid of being afraid and showing it 
 than I was of In j ins. I knowed that. But the more 
 I thought of it, the worse I felt. When I mighty 
 nigh stepped on a rattlesnake, I jumped a foot high, 
 but right away got hold of myse'f . I wished I had 
 a drink of water as cold as ice. 
 
 Directly the pack-train come up. As soon's the 
 men saw the butchered buffalo, they tightened up, 
 like, and was touchy as porcupines. When we 
 started again Carpenter and I was on one side of 
 the train and Bill and Talbot on the other, Joe being 
 ahead with the mare, so the stock was guarded on 
 both sides. It was hotter'n all time. We hadn't 
 gone a quarter when here Dad come, lickety-split 
 on the white gelding. 
 
 "Jumped ! as sure as the devil's a pig I" cries Bill, 
 getting onto his roan. "Git on, boys!" he says. 
 "We're in for brush. Lige, tighten yer cinch!" 
 
 Dad pulled up short when he got close. "Gros- 
 ventres!" he calls. "I saw four of 'em, an' they 
 saw me. It's a war party, I reckon, an' their camp's 
 down along the river, I figure. No call to stop. 
 Best keep jiggin' till they jump us." 
 
 He and Bill rode out ahead and got down off their 
 hosses and walked. Fink, who had rode up behind 
 Dad, turned back as soon's he saw Dad and Bill 
 coming and went on with them all walking and 
 about one hundred yards apart and two hundred 
 yards ahead of us. 
 
 My mouth was dry as a powder horn and my 
 tongue felt like a wood-rasp in my mouth. Car- 
 penter begun to hum a tune. 
 
86 LIGE MOUNTS : FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "I wish I had a drink of water," I says. 
 
 He laughed a little. "Keep cool, boy," he says. 
 "If ye're a rifle shot worth a scabby robe, this outfit 
 kin lick the whole Grosventre tribe. Yer pardners 
 an* mine are as good's they grow 'em. When it 
 starts, hold yer fire till yer ball kind draw blood. 
 That's what chills 'em to see every shot count." 
 Then he begun to hum again. 
 
 A flock of sage hens went up right from under my 
 feet. Cracky ! I fetched my rifle down and cocked 
 it before I even knowed it. My legs was prickling 
 like a million ants was crawling up and down my 
 skin, and I looked at Carpenter, fool-like. 
 
 "Don't git excited," he says. "Keep right cool. 
 We kin whop a whole passel of In j ins. When they 
 come at us we've plumb got to keep the stock 
 bunched, ye know. That looks like a mighty fine 
 rifle ye're packin', boy." 
 
 "'Tis," I says. Then I thought of something. 
 Suppose I got killed. They'd never know I didn't 
 kill Caley Byers, especially if murder didn't out. 
 
 "Mr. Carpenter," I says, "do you reckon it would 
 be all right for me to run ahead and tell Dad some- 
 thing I forgot to tell him before?" 
 
 "Yep. I'll lead yer hoss. Run on," he says. 
 
 I run ahead, making my throat dryer'n ever ; but 
 I says : "Dad, if anything should happen to me, will 
 you be sure to write to Eldin Muzzey, Coon Creek 
 Crossing, and tell him I didn't have no hand in 
 killing Caley Byers that I didn't even know he 
 was dead till that officer took me up in St. Louis?" 
 
 "I shore will, son," he says. "I shore will. But 
 keep yer nerve. We'll git through this little brush 
 directly an' when it starts ye'll feel a heap better." 
 
 "I wish " I started to say something, and quit. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS : FREE TRAPPER 87 
 
 "Ye wish what, son?" 
 
 "I sure wish they'd come if they're comm'," I 
 says. 
 
 "Best git back now an* he'p hold the stock. It 
 won't be long Here they be! Hurry back to 
 Carpenter !" 
 
 Dad got on the white gelding and I started to run 
 back. I'd seen the In j ins a whole passel of them, 
 off on the plains. "They're comin' !" I cried out to 
 Carpenter. "They're most here. And I'm blamed 
 glad of it!" 
 
 "Git on yer hoss," says Carpenter. "Bout forty, 
 I judge. Let 'em come !" 
 
 Everybody was on his hoss, but we didn't stop. 
 Dad and Bill and Fink, all mounted, was waiting 
 for us to come up. As soon's we got close they 
 went on again and we after them, keeping the stock 
 bunched up close. They was heading for a coulee. 
 By the time we got there the In j ins was close not 
 more'n three hundred yards. 
 
 When they saw us stop they turned and begun to 
 circle 'round us, yelling like all get out. They was 
 plumb naked, except for a breech clout and moc- 
 casins. Their hair was flying loose, and there 
 wa'n't a saddle nor a pad on their hosses just a 
 rawhide rope fast to their necks and hitched around 
 the lower jaw. They was riding fast and yelling 
 and waving buffalo robes and red blankets in a 
 cloud of dust to stampede our stock. It looked like 
 they'd sure do it. The mules was scared and 
 mighty nigh run off. One of them, dragging Bill, 
 stepped on my foot and upset me, but Joe hung onto 
 the bell-mare till he got her tied. Dad was behind 
 the buckskin mule from me. I heered him shut his 
 pan, so knowing he'd fresh-primed his rifle, I 
 
88 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 primed mine. Psst ! come a ball. I felt the wind of 
 it and honkered down. Then another splattered 
 dirt on Mike Fink and went whining off like they 
 do when they glance. 
 
 Fink commenced to laugh and carry on to badger 
 the Injins. I wished he'd quit it. We was in a 
 bad enough fix. They was riding closer and closer. 
 Bill was nigh as bad, trying to tell a yarn to Car- 
 penter like anybody wanted to hear it now. Then 
 a pack-horse went down near to Joe, and I saw Dad 
 take a chew and kneel down, ready, like. 
 
 Mike Fink kept saying, "Don't nobody kill that 
 young buck on the pinto! Leave him to me! I'm 
 goin' ter gut-shoot him!" And Bill made out like 
 he wanted the young buck himse'f . They kept it up 
 till the Injins charged. 
 
 I saw them start straight at us ; heered the gun- 
 locks click ; and cut loose. Fink's rifle roared in my 
 ear. I jumped up to reload. The Injins had turned, 
 and over the smoke I saw the young brave pitching 
 and tossing on the ground ; so I knowed Fink's ball 
 was in his bowels. Four was down and two more 
 running away from their dead hosses, zig-zag, like 
 snipes fly. The young buck got up, staggered, and 
 fell down again, doubling up and kicking out in all 
 directions. And Mike Fink laughed. "Tickles ye, 
 don't it, young feller !" he yelled, and it didn't even 
 r'ile me to hear him. 
 
 While I was ramming down a ball I begun to 
 wonder if I'd taken aim like Carpenter had told me, 
 before I fired. I couldn't remember. But I knowed 
 one thing my scare was plumb gone, and I felt 
 as ornery as Mike. I half wished they'd come back. 
 
 None of us was hit, but Carpenter's best pack- 
 hoss was dead, and that r'iled Mike Fink more'n 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 89 
 
 ever. He run to the young buck and stabbed him 
 and took his scalp, tore it off, mostly. Then yelling 
 to dare the rest, he waved it over his head. And 
 Talbot yelled to he'p him. 
 
 It was like a goad-stick to the Injins. They 
 charged. And Fink streaked back for the coulee. 
 I knelt down to make a shot that would count. But 
 they wa'n't so brash this time. They turned off. I 
 didn't know if I was glad or sorry. But when I 
 thought they wa'n't comin', here they came again. 
 I cocked my rifle. Dad heered it. "Let 'em come 
 in close, son," he says. "Don't waste no lead." I 
 told him I'd wait for them. But they circled off 
 again and stopped out of range. 
 
 "Baah!" yelled Fink, and I yelled myse'f, and 
 stood up. 
 
 Two was riding off from the others. Right away 
 Dad got up off his knee. "They've gone to git he'p," 
 he says, "an' I reckon we'd best charge; then make 
 a run fer a place where we kin stand 'em off." 
 
 The men talked back and forth. Mike was for 
 charging, and so was Bill. Carpenter said he 
 reckoned it was as good a way as any, and that set 
 Mike off. He cussed and swore, and at last Car- 
 penter said, "I've agreed, ain't I?" and Dad said, 
 "Shoo ! One quarrel at a time. You boys know the 
 river down yonder. Pick out a place an* let Car- 
 penter an* Lige run fer it with the stock when the 
 rest of us git the Injins movin'." 
 
 He began to take off his shirt. I tried to hold him 
 back, but he only laughed. "Son," he says, "this 
 fight's won. They're afraid of our medicine. But 
 when they come back, them two with another passel, 
 no tellin' how strong they'll be, ner how hard they'll 
 fight," 
 
90 
 
 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 He tighted the cinch on the white gelding's pad 
 and swung onto him, naked to the waist. Carpenter 
 says, "Little Pete's old camp that's a good place." 
 And before I knowed it they ripped away, yelling 
 like mad Dad and Bill and Joe, and all of them 
 but Carpenter and me. I held my breath. It was 
 five against nigh forty. 
 
 But quick's the In j ins saw them coming they run. 
 I couldn't believe it. I didn't know In j ins then. 
 Something had made them afraid of us; something 
 that nobody could name; and to this day I don't 
 know what it was. But it was medicine of some 
 sort. Dad had knowed it right away, and so had 
 Mike Fink. I saw Bill fire a shot, saw four or five 
 spurts of smoke from Injin guns, and then they was 
 over a ridge and out of sight. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 "Now, boy, untie 'em." Carpenter's voice fetched 
 me back, like. What looked to be foolhardy on 
 Dad's part was on me, and I couldn't believe what 
 I'd seen. 
 
 "Hurry, boy." 
 
 I put down my rifle and commenced to untie the 
 stock, not more'n half hearing Carpenter's voice 
 talking as he worked. " 'Taint more'n five miles," 
 and "That was the best pack-hoss we had," come to 
 me without me caring much how far it was, nor 
 what hoss was killed. 
 
 We unpacked the dead animal, divided his pack 
 on two others, and lit out, Carpenter leading the 
 bell-mare, and me driving the rest as fast as I could 
 make them go. 
 
 We come to a coulee and Carpenter turned down 
 into it. It was stony but led to the river, getting 
 deeper as we traveled. Directly Carpenter turned 
 into another coulee and took that one on a lope; 
 so in no time we was in the prettiest little meadow 
 I ever saw. It was in a sharp bend of the river, and 
 not more'n ten feet above the water. The bluejoint 
 was high and down below out of rifle-shot there was 
 a grove of big cottonwoods. Up above for more'n 
 a mile there wa'n't anything ; so that nothing could 
 come at us without being seen. 
 
 It all popped into sight, the stock snuffling like 
 they was glad, and Carpenter stopped at the edge 
 of the bank. We both got down and unpacked, 
 stringing the packs in a half-circle with the open 
 part towards the river. We worked fast, Carpenter 
 
 91 
 
92 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 talking most of the time, like we was safe and all 
 right ; but I couldn't care much what he was saying. 
 I was thinking of Dad and the others out on the 
 plains. 
 
 There was a little pole corral under the bank that 
 Carpenter figured would hold the stock, so we put 
 them into it and tied the mare. Then we saw that 
 the buckskin mule had an arrow sticking in him. 
 I'd never noticed it all the way from the little 
 coulee, and felt ashamed. We pulled it out and the 
 wound was bleeding bad when we climbed up the 
 bank to pile the packs two-high for a barricade. 
 
 I looked out over the plains. There was nothing 
 in sight not even a bird. I wondered what I'd 
 do if Dad didn't come back. Carpenter begun to 
 hum a tune. "What's troublin' ye?" he asked me. 
 
 "I reckon I'll go an* get a drink of water," I says. 
 "I plumb forgot I wanted it." 
 
 The water was mighty night clear and rippled 
 over a bar below the corral, where I reckoned there 
 was a ford, mebby. The shade of the big trees 
 down below me reached out to the middle of the 
 stream, so I knowed it was nigh four o'clock. It 
 was awful hot and still. When I knelt down to 
 drink a black shadow fell on the water. I looked 
 up and there was a big old buzzard sailing slow 
 against the blue sky, his wings spread out, and 
 never moving, like he could go where he wanted 
 to without trying. I watched him, still and sure 
 up yonder where he could see for miles. Just when 
 I was going to drink a band of antelope come down 
 to the water on the other side. They looked mighty 
 pretty if only we wa'n't in trouble. I watched them 
 a spell, but when I moved to get up they lit out in 
 a hurry. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 93 
 
 Carpenter was stretched on the ground with his 
 telescope to his eye. "They're comin' !" he called. 
 
 "All of them?" I says, running to him, afraid of 
 his answer. 
 
 "Every damned one!" 
 
 I begun to laugh. It was too good to be true. 
 Then I thought of that other time when I figured 
 things was too fine to last, and it scared me. Meb- 
 by some of them was hurt. Dad mebby. I wanted 
 to saddle my hoss and ride out to meet up with 
 them, but Carpenter wouldn't hear to it. We stood 
 there watching and waiting till I couldn't stand it 
 any longer. I run out to meet them, in spite of 
 Carpenter. 
 
 There was blood on Dad's legging. "You're 
 shot!" I says, grabbing Eagle's bridle to lead him 
 in. 
 
 "Leggo, son, leggo. Git my duds an' I'll put 'em 
 on. It's only a scratch." 
 
 I let go. He didn't want no carrying on, though 
 his legging was soaked with blood. I ran for his 
 shirt, feeling like I'd acted silly. 
 
 He made light of his wound when I he'ped him 
 bind it up, but I knowed it was mighty sore and 
 hurt him. It was in the thigh a regular deep cut 
 made by a ball that plowed a groove clean 'cross 
 but didn't lodge. 
 
 He was plumb happy because Eagle wa'n't hurt 
 and said so more'n once. "Fink," he says while we 
 was eating, "that's a good animal, that roan of 
 yours. I'm sorry he stopped an arrow." 
 
 "Nothin' to hurt," says Mike, "an' I'll trade him 
 fer yer Eagle an' give good boot." 
 
 Dad laughed. "Ain't interested," he says. - "I 
 
94 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 might want to get out of the country pretty fast 
 some day." 
 
 "Not as fast as me," says Fink. "Well, we're in 
 good shape here. I reckon I'll hev to adorn Betsy. 
 Five more notches," he laughs, cutting nicks in his 
 rifle stock. Dad had said he was a born rattle- 
 snake, and I knowed he was. But he wa'n't afraid 
 of anything. I was sure of that. 
 
 "How fer did ye run 'em?" Carpenter asked. 
 
 "Nigh an hour," says Bill with his mouth full of 
 dried meat. 
 
 "Put up any fight?" 
 
 "Only them that hed to." 
 
 "This rucus ain't over yit," says Dad. "I'm goin' 
 ter cut some grass fer Eagle, an' tie him handy 
 under the bank." 
 
 He got out his knife, and being through eating, 
 we all went at it and cut some grass for the war- 
 hosses while Bill and Joe turned the stock out of 
 the corral to let them fill up before dark. 
 
 There wa'n't any use to try to hide out, so we 
 built a good fire and cooked supper. At sundown 
 we watered the stock and then corralled them, all 
 but the war-hosses, which we tied under the bank, 
 saddled and ready for use. We piled the cut grass 
 where they could eat, and then we was ready and 
 begun to wait. We didn't even put out a guard, 
 but one of the men stayed close to the edge of the 
 bank where he could watch the corral. 
 
 Nobody wanted to sleep, although Dad said there 
 was time for a good nap if anybody wanted one. 
 The men sat around and talked and I listened. They 
 told of Injin medicine, mostly, and I was glad of 
 it. Dad said that he'd seen an Injin who was bent 
 on goin' to war or on a hoss-stealing raid, kill a 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 95 
 
 badger and bleed him on a rock. Then when the 
 rock was covered with the blood the Injin would 
 look in it quick. If he saw his own face reflected 
 clear, he'd go, but if his features was blurred, he 
 wouldn't budge. 
 
 Then Bill told of seeing one man beat off a whole 
 war-party by acting crazy. That set Mike Fink 
 off, and I didn't know whether to believe what he 
 said or not, but it was a good yarn anyway. 
 
 He said that once a war-party run onto tracks 
 in the snow, but not being able to tell which way 
 the man that made the tracks was going, and to be 
 sure to run him down, the party divided and one 
 half went one way and the rest the other. At last 
 one outfit run onto the man asleep by his fire. His 
 feet was sticking out from under his robe and he 
 was awful clubfooted so much so that one of his 
 feet was turned backwards. As soon's the In j ins 
 saw the man's feet they lit out. 
 
 Then Dad said, "But jest the same they will 
 fight, an' fight hard, if their medicine is good. 
 Their superstition saves us lots of times, an* nothin* 
 else." 
 
 I've seen Injins bleed badgers like Dad said since 
 then, and I know that they won't bother a crazy 
 man. And likely the club-foot puzzled them and 
 made them turn back. But when any man says 
 Injins won't fight he's slandering folks he don't 
 know. 
 
 The men talked less and less as it got darker and 
 darker, till finally they was still. After they was 
 quiet for a spell it 'peared like everybody was plumb 
 afraid to break in on the stillness. I got to think- 
 ing of Injin medicine, and of Little Pete. His camp 
 had been here mebby he'd slept where I was sit- 
 
96 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 ting. Then I thought how he'd died; and then 
 Caley Byers come into my mind, and Aunt Lib. I 
 felt mighty uncomfortable and as skittish as I did 
 when I nigh stepped on the rattlesnake. No fire, 
 no noise, only the river rippling over the bar. Now 
 and again a hoss would snuffle under the bank, 
 and every time I heered it I thought it was some- 
 thing else for a second. Directly I saw a star, then 
 another. Then the wolves begun to howl back yon- 
 der. I reckoned mebby they was on the trail to 
 the coulee where Talbot's hoss was dead. Boaah! 
 a night-hawk swooped down over the river, letting 
 out a noise that sounded like anything but a bird. 
 Then I saw the Big Dipper and the North Star come 
 out clear and felt a breeze on my face, cool and 
 fine. Joe moved a pack a little, and Talbot next to 
 him, changed his position. I was glad they stirred. 
 It eased me up. But the hours dragged and 
 dragged, till at last the stars begun to fade out and 
 I knowed day wa'n't far off. 
 
 Suddenly Dad, who was close to me, raised his 
 rifle, and its flash nigh blinded me. "They're here," 
 he says, reloading his gun. 
 
 Talbot fired and Fink and Bill. And seeing a 
 shadow moving, I let go one myse'f . 
 
 "Down low everybody!" says Dad. 
 
 Cracky! there was a passel of 'em. Next come 
 arrows, thud ! into the packs, and over us a cloud 
 of them. I could hear their feathers sing past like 
 bullets. Cracky! After them come a passel of 
 shots. I could see the flashes and heered a ball land 
 right under me in a pack. Then more arrows a 
 passel of 'em. 
 
 "Anybody hit?" asked Dad, sliding down to load 
 up. 
 
- 
 
 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 97 
 
 "Nope," says Fink. "I got two, shore's hell's 
 afire." 
 
 I saw something crawling towards the corral and 
 I let go. 
 
 "That was a good one, son," says Dad, cocking 
 his rifle. "You got that feller." 
 
 I couldn't see another thing. There wa'n't a 
 sound, except the water on the bar. 
 
 "They're restin', I reckon," says Dad after a 
 spell. "Joe, was the brown mute bleedin' much 
 when we corralled 'em? I forgot to look. Oh! Joe. 
 What's wrong with Joe, Talbot?" 
 
 "By God, he's dead ! Hit plumb in the forehead 
 with a ball." Talbot's voice was husky, like his 
 throat was dry. 
 
 I couldn't speak for a minute. It was too awful. 
 Everybody was still, thinking, I reckon, same's I 
 was. 
 
 "Too bad, son," Dad whispered. "We'll make 'em 
 pay for Joe. That's all we kin do, now." 
 
 Seemed as though our voices had started them 
 again. There come a couple of shots and a passel 
 of arrows. 
 
 "I'm hit," says Talbot, but not stopping his shoot- 
 ing. 
 
 "Bad?" asked Dad. 
 
 "Nope shoulder arrow Look out, Dad!" 
 
 Dad's rifle flashed and a yell went up. 
 
 "My God, Dad, they's a whole passel of 'em," 
 says Bill. "Yonder, yonder, Mike!" he says, load- 
 ing as fast as he could. "If we kin only stand 'em 
 off till day, we'll make 'em move." 
 
 "Here, son," said Dad, "move on the other side 
 of me. Look scatter in' down nigh the corral while 
 I load." 
 
98 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 I crawled around Dad. Sure enough there was 
 four or five In j ins stealing towards the corral. I 
 fired and loaded and fired again. Dad kept popping 
 away, steady, as fast as he could load. Directly we 
 couldn't see a thing on the little flat down by the 
 corral. It was getting light fast and I could make 
 out the trees by the stream. Day was most there. 
 I could see the packs stuck full of arrows all around 
 us and poor Joe laying dead by Talbot. I was 
 stiff from staying still so long and stretched my 
 legs. 
 
 "Shoo! I reckoned they'd charge at daybreak, 
 but I don't see ary one/' says Dad at last. "Mebby 
 the fight's ours. But we'll wait a spell before we 
 move around." 
 
 "They don't know they hit any of us," says Fink. 
 "We got a mess of 'em last night. I know I got 
 several myse'f , so they've got a lot more respect for 
 us an' our medicine than they had before. I'll bet 
 a robe they've pulled out had enough." 
 
 "I reckon ye're right," says Dad, "but we'll best 
 sit tight till it gits good and light." 
 
 Fink stood up. "Come on," he says, "let's bury 
 Joe an' pack up." 
 
 "We'll bury Joe, that we will, an* do it right," 
 says Dad. "Then we'll scout a bit. If it's safe 
 we'll move." 
 
 I could feel he didn't like the way Fink spoke. 
 And I didn't 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 It ain't no use to try to tell how we felt when we 
 buried Joe. Dad felt mighty bad. And Bill too. I 
 knowed it was plumb wicked, but I couldn't he'p 
 think what if it was Dad instead of Joe kinder 
 comparing how I'd feel if it had been him and I 
 felt mean and ornery for doing it. But you can't 
 fight off such thoughts once they get going, even 
 if you're ashamed of them and turn against them. 
 They keep hanging on like a shadow you're trying 
 to leave behind. I reckon I felt as bad's anybody 
 though, except mebby Dad. I could see how he felt 
 by his face. The lines hardened up and he looked 
 older. But I was a heap sorrier than I was when 
 my father was killed, and that kept pestering like 
 it was against decency. I couldn't even drive it 
 away by remembering how young I was then. That 
 and the thought that I'd be a heap sorrier if it was 
 Dad kept shaming me and making me feel worse all 
 the time we was digging the grave. 
 
 The men was mighty careful about the dirt they 
 dug. They put it on buffalo robes, and when the 
 grave was filled and levelled off and tramped solid, 
 they packed every bit of it to the river and dumped 
 it in. Then they built a fire on the grave so neither 
 wolves nor In j ins would know it held a body. 
 
 "Good-bye to ye, Joe," says Dad. "Ye was a man, 
 all man. Amen." 
 
 For more'n a minute nobody moved. A lump 
 come into my throat and nigh choked me. It wa'n't 
 much to say, but the way he said it made it seem 
 longer and better'n a whole funeral sermon 
 
 99 
 
100 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 preached by Joshua Moulds. It made me feel that 
 it would be all I'd ask if a good man could say as 
 much for me when I quit. Seemed as though it held 
 a passel of praise, and a promise, too, some way, 
 without fussing, either. 
 
 "Come," he says, turning away. "It's a trail 
 we'll all take some day, some way. One place is as 
 good's another, too, I reckon. Nature kin use us, 
 and she will. I'd ruther go to he'p the wild roses 
 than garden flowers an' so would Joe. But when 
 the time comes we've got to lay 'em down, no mat- 
 ter where it may be, ner how." 
 
 Then right away he shook it off turned his talk 
 to ourse'fs. "We'll look 'round a bit, an' if the 
 In j ins hes left, an' I reckon they hev, we'll pack up 
 an' move," he says, walking fast towards the camp. 
 
 The Injins had gone. Fink and Dad rode out 
 while we cooked a breakfast, and Bill and me pulled 
 the arrows out of the packs and shaped up. Then 
 Talbot and Carpenter brought up the stock and we 
 packed and lit out. Dad and Bill gave me Joe's war- 
 hoss, and I walked with the other men and led him 
 with a pad on his back. He made me think of poor 
 Joe; but owning him someway put me up, like, in 
 spite of thinking it was low-down to profit by such 
 a thing as a pardner's death. I kept arguing with 
 myse'f that I'd willingly give a hundred hosses if 
 I had them to save Joe, but the ornery side kept 
 horning in all day long and kept me miserable. 
 
 Dad and Fink was ahead and I tried to take Joe's 
 place as good as I could and kept behind the pack 
 train. Carpenter and Talbot guarded the sides and 
 we traveled mighty fast, for we'd divided some of 
 the packs and used some of Fink's pack hosses, so 
 the loads was lighter. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 101 
 
 We passed dog-town after dog-town; and always 
 there was coyotes sitting around to try and nail a 
 prairie dog. They'd sneak up and then make a rush 
 when a dog had strayed out from his hole a piece, 
 and sometimes they'd catch them but not often. 
 The dogs was curious little fellows, sitting up as 
 straight as ramrods and looking like a passel of 
 posts drove in the ground. They'd bark a funny 
 little chirping bark; and when we got too close 
 they'd pop down in their holes with a flip of their 
 tails. The towns was plumb clean of all grass, and 
 around every hole there was a pile of whitish dirt 
 the dogs had dug in making their burrows. I fig- 
 ured they was mighty wise in handling the dirt. 
 Piled the way they was the mounds made a good 
 place to sit and look for trouble, and besides they 
 kept the water of bad rains and storms from flood- 
 ing their holes. On nigh half the mounds, too, there 
 was little long-legged owls sitting and looking like 
 they knowed more'n anybody. They didn't pay any 
 attention to the prairie dogs nor the dogs didn't 
 mind them, but each tended to his own business, 
 whatever it was. 
 
 There was plenty of antelope again. And twice 
 we saw herds of buffalo feeding off to the north. I 
 was glad to see them, for I knowed it was a good 
 sign and meant there wa'n't any Injins close. But 
 we kept on careful till night and then camped on a 
 water-hole. There wa'n't a thing but buffalo-chips 
 to build a fire with if we'd wanted one, and the 
 water was warm and tasted bad. The rim of the 
 water-hole was tracked up with a thousand million 
 of antelope tracks, and buffalo, too. Just before 
 dark Bill killed a fat young buck. 
 
 We moved early in the morning and every 
 
102 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 morning for three days, traveling straight across 
 country that was mighty nigh level. The sun had 
 plumb baked the adobe flats along the streams we 
 crossed, though they was mighty few and far be- 
 tween. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the fourth day after the 
 fight when I saw a strip of cottonwood away ahead. 
 I thought fnebby it was a mirage, at first. But 
 directly Dad and Fink stopped and caught up their 
 regular saddle hosses and got on them. So we all 
 mounted, and I was glad to ride a spell. 
 
 "It's jest beyond that strip of timber yonder, 
 son," says Dad. "We'll make it by sundown." 
 
 He begun to slick up, combing out his hair with 
 his fingers and talking happy, like. I was sure glad 
 and perked up. It seemed like letting out a tight 
 cinch. We was all talking and laughing and riding 
 close and sociable. Everybody acted like he'd 
 stepped across a bad place lucky ; and even the stock 
 showed they knowed it. Fink begun to sing. 
 
 When we trotted over a little swell on the plain 
 I saw horsemen coming lickety split. At first I 
 thought it was Injins. But Dad says, "Here they 
 come to say 'howdy'; they've seen us a'ready," and 
 Fink and Bill rode ahead to meet them. Dad 
 stopped and got on Eagle, who begun to prance and 
 dance like he wanted to run. But Dad held him 
 in, talking to him quiet, till the men come up. 
 
 I never saw anything like it. Everybody was 
 talking at once and was especially glad to see Dad. 
 They called him everything cussed him and 
 slapped him on the back, laughing like boys. They'd 
 yell like Injins and shoot and ride circles around 
 us and sing. Everybody nagged and jabbered to 
 git a word in all talking and saying mighty little. 
 But they was sure glad to see us though no glad- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 103 
 
 der, I'll bet, than I was to see them. Some kept at 
 it till Fink and Bill climbed up behind them on 
 their hosses; and the bucking and bawling and 
 laughing beat all time. One hoss threw himse'f 
 backward so Bill skinned his nose in the dirt. "Ride 
 in, you fellers!" somebody called above the jangle. 
 "Ride in! Me and Tom'll fetch in the train." 
 
 It was like a pistol-shot to start a race. Away 
 we went over the plains, through a dog-town, 
 among a million holes in the ground, like mad men. 
 I couldn't have held my bay if I'd tried. I figured 
 the Yellowstone would stop 'em, but it didn't. They 
 splashed in, ford or no ford. It was a race for the 
 other side. I knowed who'd win it, and he did. 
 Dad and Eagle was across long before anybody 
 else. And I wish you could have seen the hosses. 
 Every one! of them crazy wild for the race and stop- 
 ping at nothing, full of mettle and trembling like 
 leaves. I never did see the beat. 
 
 Dripping wet and singing any song we knowed, 
 we rode to the Post. The gate was wide open, and 
 someone let off a cannon as we turned in. The wind 
 of it hit my face like a slap and my hoss shied and 
 nigh upset me; but I yelled with the rest and rode 
 inside. Dogs was barking, Injin drums beating, 
 and if ever a man heered bedlam broke plumb loose, 
 it was me. One feller with rings in his ears run 
 out with a flat keg and a cup, singing in French and 
 offering liquor. They was sure glad to see us and 
 knowed how to show it, I reckoned. 
 
 By the time the pack train got in, Dad had got 
 a set of lodge poles from an Injin and had 'em up 
 and waiting for his lodge-skin. "Here we be, son, 
 as our officer friend said in St. Louis. An* now 
 we kin sleep an' sleep an* sleep," he says, filling his 
 pipe. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 The Ashley-Henry Post was inside a stockade of 
 cottonwood logs set in the ground on end so that 
 they was more'n ten feet high in a solid wall all 
 around a space two hundred feet by one hundred 
 and fifty feet. The logs was pinned together on the 
 inside with pegged girders, and resting on the 
 girders was a runway where men could stand and 
 defend the Post. The runway was high enough so 
 a man could see outside and shoot without showing 
 too much of himse'f to In j ins. The gate was big 
 and heavy, built of split logs and hung on wooden 
 hinges that made an awful fuss when it was opened 
 or shut. When it was open it allowed a passage- 
 way about seven or eight feet wide. In each of the 
 corners opposite from the gate there was two little 
 cannon, set so they could be turned loose on unwel- 
 come visitors; and between them seven little, dirt- 
 roofed cabins for the engagees was built against 
 the wall, the runway stopping against their ends so 
 that men could use their roofs to stand on in a fight. 
 On one end of the stockade the end on the right of 
 the gate, going in, and nigh the middle of the wall, 
 was the store a long, low, log building with loop- 
 holes cut in the logs and along the side, and in the 
 end towards the gate, windows that had hinged 
 shutters made so they could be closed on the inside. 
 Down along the right hand wall a little way from 
 the store itse'f was the storehouse, and further 
 down, with quite a space between them, the black- 
 smith shop, without any door. The roofs of all the 
 
 104 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 105 
 
 buildings joined onto the regular runway against 
 the walls, so men could walk on them the same as 
 on the runway. The corral was across from the 
 blacksmith shop and storehouse a good big one 
 that would hold considerable stock. Along that side 
 of the stockade, next to the river, there wa'n't any 
 buildings, but there was several Injin lodges, be- 
 sides some trappers' camps between the corral and 
 the ends of the enclosure. 
 
 Altogether, there was fifteen men in the Post, 
 regular hired men. Engagees, they called them, 
 and they was all white except two interpreters, who 
 was half-breeds that got drunk whenever they could 
 and had a passel of little, sharp-eyed boys and girls 
 that was everywhere and full of mischief. 
 
 Bill went off with Fink and his pardners as soon 
 as we got unpacked; so Dad and I was alone. We 
 got everything inside the lodge, making it so full 
 there wa'n't a heap of room left even after we'd 
 piled everything as high as we could to save space. 
 "Gone to git drunk," says Dad, not grumbling, but 
 thinking, like. "Good pardner," he says, "none bet- 
 ter, but he hankers for liquor. His flat keg's nigh 
 half -full yit, an' he'll pack it month in an' month 
 out an' never tetch it. Never knowed him to tetch 
 it by himse'f ; but I reckoned him an' Fink's crowd 
 would finish it down the river there. The buffalo 
 herd sobered 'em, and the movin* broke up the 
 spree. 
 
 "Seems good to be able to set around an' know 
 we kin sleep an' be keerless," he says, sipping a cup 
 of tea. "Reckon we'll stay where we be, son." A 
 gun cracked and he sat up straight with the cup 
 nigh to his lips. But a loud laugh followed from 
 over at the store, and he begun to sip again. 
 
106 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "Drunk," he says, "drunk an' singin.' They'll 
 likely be fightin' before mornin'." 
 
 It was hot in the lodge and I raised the lodge-skin 
 higher on the breezy side so the cool would come in. 
 "Tomorrow," I says, "I'm going to write that 
 letter." 
 
 "Yes, tomorrow ye kin do it, son." He pulled off 
 his head-silk and smoothed his hair; and then as 
 though he half wanted to blame Bill and excuse him 
 at the same time, he begun: "Son, I don't aim fer 
 to hev ye think I was always a teetotaler, 'cause I 
 wa'n't. I've drinked enough liquor to float a keel- 
 boat an* shot away more lead showin' off than 
 would sink one of 'em, in my time. Experience 
 finally weaned me from liquor, but I figure she was 
 goin' an extra gait when she done it. Anyway it 
 took, good an* plenty, an* I ain't drinked a drop in 
 goin' on twelve years." He stopped to light his 
 pipe. 
 
 "Eleven years ago last May," he went on, "me 
 an' my pardner, Dug Tiley, cut into St. Louis with 
 our ketch. It was a good one one of the best I 
 ever hed a share in. The town was full of trap- 
 pers an' river men, like it always is. Everybody 
 was havin' a frolic. We sold out good, an' jest as 
 soon as we hed bought our outfit an' paid fer it, we 
 got drunk, as usual. It was Tuesday mornin' when 
 we took in the taverns, an' it was Tuesday night 
 when we called on the dance houses. Before mid- 
 night I lost all reckonin', an' aside from spots 
 where there was fights er fires, I don't remember 
 much. Even them's dim. 
 
 "Dug had a bad row with a river-pirate in a 
 hurdy-gurdy house an' the feller cut him mighty 
 bad cut his right ear clean off an' sliced his cheek 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 107 
 
 like a beefsteak. I kin see him now with his 
 wounds undressed an* bleedin' into his liquor. I 
 may hev been there when the fuss started, but if I 
 was, it's shore my senses wa'n't. Seems like I 
 must hev been outside a spell. Anyhow, when I 
 saw Dug to remember it, he was cut like I tell ye, 
 holdin' a glass of whiskey in his hand an* walkin' in 
 a circle, nigh blind with blood ; an' f ollerin' was the 
 man with the knife. I took it up for Dug an* recol- 
 lect nigh killin' the devil that cut him. Mebby I 
 did. I know he cut me up some before they pulled 
 me off him." 
 
 He stopped, and I could see he was hating to tell 
 the yarn; but he went on, talking slower'n ever. 
 "After that I remember of goin' outside. It was 
 a-pourin' rain an' the night was black dark. I 
 started f er a hitch-rack in the middle of the street. 
 The light from the dance-house streaked out to it 
 an' fell upon a big puddle that surrounded it. I 
 made fer the rack like I tell ye, most likely with a 
 drunken idee of ridin'. Anyway, I went up to a 
 hoss tied there, but he snorted an' thrashed about 
 till he knocked me down in the mud puddle. All the 
 ponies pulled back, an' while they was still snortin' 
 at me I went to sleep there in the water an' mud. 
 
 "That's the last I remember the snortin' of the 
 hosses till I waked up stiff an' sore an' ugly as a 
 crippled buffalo-bull. There was a buffalo robe over 
 my face; an' a man was layin' on my arm on one 
 side, while on the other, another feller was jammed 
 up tight agin my side like a bed-hawg. 'Lay over, 
 damn ye,' I growled, an' dug my elbow agin his 
 belly. But he didn't move. I give him a couple 
 more good ones, but still he didn't stir. So I set up 
 to move him. He was dead, son, stone dead, with 
 
108 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 his glassy eyes wide open an* his ugly mouth agap. 
 Next to me was another corpse the feller that was 
 layin' on my arm when I waked up. His jaw an' 
 chin was all shot away an* his teeth hung like fringe 
 from shreds of flesh an' bone. 
 
 "There was three of 'em besides me under that 
 robe, an* the others was dead men. I didn't camp 
 there long, son. I moved out. Jest as I did a 
 wagon with four men in it backed up to the robe. 
 They hed some shovels; an* ye'd oughter seen 'em 
 stare at me gittin' away from that herd of dead 
 ones. Son, if I'd a-slept jest a leetle longer they'd 
 hev buried me sure's hell's afire. That's when I 
 swore off." 
 
 "Cracky!" I says. "How was the men killed, 
 Dad?" 
 
 "Well, ye see, sometime after I went outside a 
 big fight started, an' there was a heap of shootin' 
 done. After it was over they jest gathered up the 
 dead, an' findin' me near the hitch-rack in the pud- 
 dle with blood all over me, they jest natcherly 
 counted me in, too. Yes, son, if I'd a-slept jest a 
 leetle longer, I'd a-been buried alive. I know I 
 would." 
 
 "Cracky!" I says. "What became of Dug Tiley?" 
 
 "Never got over it. Took cold in his wounds an' 
 died a month after. I camped with him till he 
 crossed. Hated awful to see him go, for he was a 
 good man, Dug was. Wished Bill wa'n't so keen 
 fer liquor, but I orten't complain, I reckon; fer if 
 it hedn't a-been fer what I told ye, I'd a-been 
 worse'n him. If I was you I'd never start it, son. 
 It's a trail that don't lead nowhere." 
 
 I was right glad he told me that story. Some- 
 times I'd wondered why, unlike the rest, he never 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 109 
 
 touched liquor, but watched his friends drink with- 
 out much objection. I'd felt that if he had been 
 hard set against drinking like some folks is, he 
 wouldn't have acted the way he did; but his story 
 made me see why he let liquor alone, himse'f . 
 
 It was right dusky in the lodge now and a heap 
 cooler since the sun had set. I was unrolling my 
 bed when a man come to the door. 
 
 "Hello, Jim! Come in an* rest yourse'f," says 
 Dad, moving so that the visitor could sit down be- 
 side him. I never knowed his last name. They 
 called him Big Jim, and he was one of the men who 
 brought in our pack train that afternoon. Also he'd 
 been Little Pete's pardner. 
 
 "Do ye reckon 'twas Blackfeet that jumped Lit- 
 tle Pete, Jim?" says Dad when the big fellow had 
 set down in the lodge. 
 
 "Ain't noway sure," he says. "I was wantin' to 
 talk to ye about it." 
 
 He commenced to fill his pipe, slow, and awkward 
 with his hands. His shirt was black with grease 
 and one sleeve was untied so his big sinewy arm 
 was bare to the elbow. He bent over to dig out a 
 coal of fire from the ashes, and I could see his mid- 
 dle finger was gone from his left hand. When he 
 straightened up and spoke it was slow and with a 
 half stutter to his words. 
 
 "Ye see," he begun, "Little Pete was plumb alone 
 when he went under. Last winter me an' him 
 trapped the Missouri below the Post an' worked 
 some on the Yellerstone. I ain't noways supersti- 
 tious, but Thanksgivin' day, near as I know, we set 
 fourteen traps on the Yellerstone. In the mornin' 
 when we visits 'em, every trap was sprung an' in 
 the last one down the stream was an arrow a Crow 
 
110 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 arrow with a cross down nigh the feathers. It was 
 painted on the shaft with blue paint. The next day 
 one of my pack-hosses come into camp with an ar- 
 row stickin' in his flank. I pulled it out, an' it was 
 a mate to the one in the trap cross an' all. We 
 moved down towards the Post a day's drive; an' 
 when I went to build a fire, damned if an arrow 
 wa'n't stickin' straight up on the spot where I'd 
 intended buildin' it. That arrow belonged to the 
 same quiver with the other two. It was Crow, ex- 
 cept the cross. 
 
 "I didn't say nothin' to Pete just then. In the 
 mornin' when I woke up it was early. Pete was 
 with the stock. We intended trappin' from where 
 we was down to the Post below; but we didn't set 
 a trap. Not one. Another arrow was in camp, an' 
 it had been sent by a bow. We come on into the 
 Post an' started to trap the Missouri, all the time 
 lookin' f er more arrows ; but nary one did we see !" 
 
 "Curious, Jim. Mighty curious," says Dad. 
 "Tryin' to scare ye off the Yellerstone, mebby. But 
 why all the trouble? 'Pears to me that if the 
 Crows wait " 
 
 "Ye've struck it," interrupted Jim. " 'Twa'n't 
 Injins. But I didn't guess it until a month later 
 after Christmas, anyhow. I was in the Post to get 
 some lead an' trade in some beaver. A Crow vil- 
 lage was camped just across the river an' a big 
 bunch of 'em was tradin' when I got in. A whalin' 
 big brute who seemed to be a chief among 'em was 
 talkin' English to the trader. If there was any 
 Injin in his breedin' it was hid by nigger blood, 
 though he was part white." 
 
 "Rose," says Dad, reaching for his pipe. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 111 
 
 "Edwin Rose," says Jim. "An* if ever I laid 
 eyes on a bad one that was the man. I'd like to 
 hev pulled an arrow from his quiver, but I knowed 
 I'd start somethin' if I did. I was shore he was 
 better acquainted with me than I was with) him, 
 too." 
 
 "I hev seen him," said Dad. "He was a river- 
 pirate between New Orleans an' St. Louis till the 
 law got him fer murder. He got free some way an' 
 now he's a chief among the Crows. He's a mulatto 
 an' as full of fight as a badger. I've heered good 
 things of Rose as well as bad, but he's an outlaw 
 from the States. He wants to keep us off the Yel- 
 lerstone, likely; an' with his backin' I'll remember 
 it. He stands high with the 'Rees, too. He's with 
 them as much as he is with the Crows. He's a bad 
 man. But he shore was square with Colonel Leav- 
 enworth last spring in the battle with the 'Rees, 
 even if Hunt was afraid of him twelve years ago. 
 c Nez Coupe.' Yes, I know him; an' I've wondered 
 that he don't burn this Post." 
 
 I sat there waitin' for them to go on. But I 
 reckon to them it seemed like they'd said all there 
 was to say. 
 
 Dad thought a minute, listening to the racket 
 over at the store. "Son, mebby me an' you'd better 
 try to git Bill to camp," he says. 
 
 We all went over, Dad, Big Jim, and me. The 
 door was wide open and the place dim-lit by cups 
 of grease with burning rags in them, smelling fear- 
 ful. And such carrying on ! A fiddle was going to 
 beat all time and men dancing to the music with 
 their arms around each other like one of them was 
 a girl, It was hotter'n blazes in there, made hotter 
 
112 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 by the burning grease and the dancers ; but nobody 
 seemed to notice the heat and sang or danced to the 
 fiddle as hard as they could go. Everybody was 
 dripping sweat, except two Injins who was squatted 
 against the wall looking on. I couldn't figure 
 whether they thought the men was plain fools or 
 just crazy. Their faces didn't tell. 
 
 We went over against the wall and looked around 
 for Bill. Directly we saw him back in the shadows 
 in a corner. Dad went towards him and I slipped 
 down nigh the fiddler who was setting on the count- 
 er. His face, shiny with sweat, was nigh black and 
 had deep pock marks. There was rings in his ears 
 and an ugly whitish scar reaching up from the 
 corner of his mouth to his left eye, which was sunk 
 in, like, and never moved nor winked no matter 
 which way he looked. His other eye'd laugh but 
 that one, never. It just stared like it wa'n't no 
 relation to its mate and wouldn't get glad no mat- 
 ter what happened to tickle its pardner. His head 
 was tied round with a dirty red cloth and his hair 
 was fresh bobbed and blacker'n a crow. Cracky! 
 I used to see that face in my dreams, and do yet 
 when I'm upset by something or other. I just 
 couldn't take my eyes off him. He worked like a 
 nailer, too, fiddling fast and steady and keeping 
 time with his heel against the counter, while the 
 sweat poured off him; and that one eye that never 
 winked just fastened on my own, though it didn't 
 seem to see me or anything else. 
 
 I slipped down along the wall a bit to get closer. 
 A drunk Frenchman stopped me, singing, 
 
 "Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontre 
 Trois cavalieres bien montees . . . ." 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 113 
 
 and slopped a cup of liquor on my arm. He never 
 noticed it but waved the cup: 
 
 "L'on, ton, laridon danee 
 L'on, ton, 
 
 I've heered it a thousand times since then. 
 
 "What's the matter with that man's eye?" I says 
 to make talk and mebby get away without a quarrel. 
 
 He teetered back and forth, spilling about all that 
 was left in the cup. "Dat's glass heye," he hic- 
 cuped. "She's buy heem New Orlean." He took 
 hold of my shirt to steady himse'f and leaning for- 
 ward till his chin was mighty nigh against me, 
 whispered "Ma frien', de hoi' man, she's see hout 
 dat heye. Yas siree ! She do. Wan day me an' de 
 hoi' man is look por de 'orse." He begun to look 
 towards the fiddler as though he was afraid he'd 
 hear what he was saying; but finding he was busy 
 with his music, he went on, "Jes' bimeby me HI'm 
 seeum some 'orse mebby ten, twelve. HI'm say, 
 'Hoi man, me, HI'm seeum some 'orse' an' HI'm 
 point ma finger. By gar! de hoi man, she's tak 
 hout dat damn heye, she's wipe heem wid piece 
 buckskeen, she's put de heye back hon de 'ole, she's 
 look queek. 'Yes sar, Pete,' she's says, 'dat's dem 
 'orse, by gar!' She's see hout dat heye same lak 
 de nodder wan." 
 
 "Trois cavalieres bien montees 
 L'une a cheval, 1'autre a pied. 
 L'on, ton, 
 
 away he went, whirling and staggering about the 
 room, seeing mighty little and hearing less. I'd 
 never before heered of a glass eye, nor seen one, 
 
114 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 and I couldn't more'n half believe there was any 
 such thing. 
 
 Suddenly I perked up. Someone was shouting 
 above the racket: "My full an' complete name is 
 M-I-C-K-E P-H-I-N-C-K, Mike Fink!" And there 
 he was on the other side of the fiddler, pounding 
 the counter with his fist, though the fiddler kept 
 right on playing like he wa'n't there. "Hi ! Good- 
 eye," yelled Fink. "Stop that damned fiddlin'. I'm 
 talkin' !" 
 
 The fiddle stopped and the singing, too. Even 
 the dancers stood where they was while Mike spelled 
 out his name again. "As fer East as Pittsburgh 
 they give me the fifth quarter of beef not to shoot 
 agin 'em," he says, pounding the counter harder'n 
 ever and talking louder. 
 
 Carpenter slipped nigh to him; and I reckon he 
 knowed Mike was wanting to go to war, for he com- 
 menced to talk low to him and put his hand on his 
 shoulder, friendly, like, and anxious. 
 
 "Git away from me !" Mike shook off Carpenter's 
 hand, "Git clean away!" he snarls. "Ye stole my 
 squaw, ye low-down skunk!" 
 
 Talbot run up to them, sobered. "Don't quarrel, 
 boys," he begs, pulling Carpenter away. 
 
 Mike spit after them, ornery and mean as a bob- 
 cat. "I kin lick any white man, Frenchman, er 
 Injin in this here Post any of 'em," he says, grit- 
 ting his teeth till I could hear it plain. "My name 
 is M-I-C-K-E P-H-I-N-C-K Mike Fink!" 
 
 It got still again in the store ; but the little drunk 
 Frenchman, full of good nature and not realizing 
 Mike was mad, staggered across the room with his 
 cup. "Have a drink, Meester Fink," he says, teeter- 
 ing like he might fall over on top of Fink. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 115 
 
 Mike was made madder by the fellow's good na- 
 ture. He grabbed the cup out of his hand and 
 threw the liquor plumb in his face. "Hell, if I want 
 a drink I kin git it myse'f, can't I?" he yells. "Keep 
 away from me clean away !" 
 
 Then he walked right out of the door as straight's 
 a string. I was glad, and so was everybody else, I 
 reckon; for right away the fiddle started up again 
 and the little drunk Frenchman begun to sing his 
 song, like he didn't know he mighty nigh had a peck 
 of trouble. 
 
 "Well, son," says Dad, coming up to me with Bill, 
 "let's go to camp and hev a good sleep. Bill's comin' 
 with us." 
 
 The fresh air smelled mighty good. A little night 
 breeze was stirring, and back of the Post, a piece, 
 a wolf was howling like all get out. On the runway 
 two men was walking back and forth; but besides 
 them we didn't see a soul. The lodges was all dark. 
 Two Injin dogs was answering the wolf now and 
 again; but that and the wolf howling was about the 
 only noise we heered, except the racket back in the 
 store. 
 
 Dad kindled a little fire and made a cup of tea for 
 Bill, and we all took a cup with him. 
 
 "That quarrel of Fink's an' Carpenter's ain't done 
 yit," says Dad over his tea. "They's a woman in it, 
 an' that kind o' trouble's like a carbuncle. Old 
 friendships may salve it an' keep it down fer a 
 spell, but it's bound to come to a head." 
 
 "They'll make it up agin before mornin'," laughed 
 Bill. "Mebby 'twon't stay made up; but they'll all 
 three be back in the store inside an hour." 
 
 "Mebby," says Dad. "When I was over there the 
 trader told me that Alex Beasley an* Jake Aber- 
 
116 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 nathy left word with him to tell me an* you they 
 figured on throwin* in with us this fall an* winter. 
 The trader said they'd ought to be here now an* if 
 we liked the arrangement we'd better wait a spell 
 till they got here. How does it strike you, Bill?" 
 
 "Jake an' Alex's good men," says Bill. "I figure 
 'twould be a good plan to have 'em with us." 
 
 "Good. Son, how doj ye feel about hevin' two 
 more men in the party two more besides their 
 skinner and flesher?" Dad says. 
 
 "I'm agreeable to whatever you an* Bill says is 
 for the best," I answered, feeling mighty good to 
 be asked. 
 
 "Then we'll wait a spell," says Dad. "If they 
 ain't too long gittin' here, we'll make one party out 
 of theirs an' ours." 
 
 "What are we goin* to do fer a skinner and 
 flesher in Joe's place?" asked Bill. 
 
 "I can't answer," says Dad. "We'll think about 
 it tonight an* talk about it tomorrow. Let's turn 
 in." 
 
CHAPTER Xin 
 
 I layed awake a long time after Dad and Bill 
 was asleep. The noise from the store, now high, 
 then low, kept up as long as I remembered any- 
 thing. And I thought a good deal about our new 
 pardners. I half wished they wouldn't turn up. I 
 was afraid I might not like them. I tried to picture 
 Alex, but I couldn't make him fit our party, some- 
 how, and Jake was oif color, too. I reckoned it was 
 his name, mebby, for the only Jake I knowed was 
 a worthless lot. Then I thought of Joe fer a spell, 
 wondering what sort of a man might take his place. 
 I heered shots twice, but they didn't disturb Dad 
 or Bill; and at last I went to sleep. 
 
 Dad had a fire kindled outside the lodge when I 
 waked up. The store was plumb still and I could 
 see men stretched out under the runway asleep. 
 Two was setting up against the store with their 
 heads lopped over and their mouths wide open, 
 sleeping sound but not very still. They looked silly. 
 Bill laughed. "I'm glad I ain't one of 'em," he said 
 starting for water. 
 
 When he come back, Dad, thinking it was a good 
 time, I reckon, said, "Bill, ye'd please me if ye'd 
 call the spree over. Jake an' Alex oughter be here 
 any day now, an* as soon as we kin we ought to be 
 jiggin' fer winter quarters. What say?" 
 
 "I'm plumb through, Dad," he says, and I saw 
 he meant it. 
 
 We wa'n't in no hurry with breakfast. There 
 wa'n't a thing that needed doing except my letter, 
 
 117 
 
118 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 and as soon as I could do it without letting on it 
 was pestering me, I reminded Dad of it again. 
 
 "I've got a quill an* some paper in the packs," he 
 says, "but I callate we'd best write it over to the 
 store. We got to give the letter to the trader any- 
 way, an* it'll save me hevin' to dig 'em out. We'll 
 wait a spell 'fore we go over, son, an' let folks git 
 the kinks out of theirse'fs. Ain't no call to hurry, 
 nohow. The mail don't leave this p'int every day," 
 he says, laughin' and pourin' his tea. 
 
 But other folks didn't wait to visit the store, I 
 noticed. For directly the gate opened and some 
 Injins rode inside, men, women and children, going 
 straight to the store, where they got down and went 
 in some of them. One old woman was riding a 
 pudgy mare with a spotted colt following close be- 
 hind. She didn't more than slow up when the little 
 feller went after his breakfast. It didn't bother 
 her a bit. She got off on the other side and let him 
 fill up while she went in to trade. 
 
 By the time most of the Injins had got down and 
 before the man had the gate closed, in come some 
 more half -breeds, mostly, I reckoned, and not nigh 
 so trim-looking nor tidy as the Injins, theirse'fs. 
 Colors ! Cracky ! It was nigh as bright as St. Louis 
 in front of the store. And the hosses was of every 
 color, too. In less'n no time there was nigh forty 
 of them, lots of them spotted, some of them with 
 mighty showy rigging, and others without any rig 
 at all, only a rawhide rope hitched on the underjaw. 
 
 I could see it was going to be a hot day still and 
 the sky clear of clouds, though the beginning of a 
 hot wind was flapping the ears of the lodge a little, 
 and over there, the trappings of the Injins' hosses. 
 The women begun to unload some of them that was 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 119 
 
 packed with robes, and as fast as they could they 
 carried the stuff into the store. I was itching to go 
 over and watch the trading; but I let it go for 
 more'n an hour. 
 
 They was still at it when Dad and I did go, 
 though most of them had made their trade and was 
 packing up to get out again. Every one of them 
 seemed to know just what he wanted and got it as 
 quick as he could. 
 
 But one, a tall, thin, man, was standing still 
 close to the door and just inside. He had a mighty 
 fine face, though it was seamed up right smart and 
 looked stern and proud. Someway, he reminded 
 me of Dad, only he wa'n't so tall. Now and again 
 while the others was trading he'd say a few words 
 to a girl by his side. 
 
 It ain't right easy when you've seen a body a 
 heap o' times, to remember how they looked the 
 first time you ever saw them, 'thout adding things 
 you've kinder discovered a little at a time. But I 
 remember plain how she looked that day. 
 
 She was pretty as any young woman I ever saw, 
 her black eyes eager, though she stuck timidly to 
 the man's side like she'd give a lot to be through 
 and away from there. Her black hair hung long in 
 two thick braids over half -naked shoulders that was 
 round and brown and smooth-looking. Her arms 
 was bare to the elbows, and she had little hands and 
 little feet. Her dress was made of brand new elk- 
 skin, not smoked much, so that it was mighty nigh 
 white, all quill-worked and pretty's could be. So 
 was her moccasins which fit her like her feet was 
 made for 'em. There was a little streak of bright 
 red paint in the part of her hair ; and whenever she 
 moved the long, thin fringe of her dress trembled. 
 
120 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 I'd never seen a nicer dress nor a prettier girl. But 
 she wouldn't look at anybody, only the Injin I 
 knowed was her father. 
 
 When the last load of goods was packed out the 
 man walked over to the counter and made some 
 signs to the trader. 
 
 "Wants credit," says Dad. "They're Crees." 
 
 The trader signed back without hesitating, and 
 Dad says, "He gits it, too. Now watch 'em." 
 
 And I did watch them. I made up my mind to 
 learn how to make signs, too. 
 
 Up and down along the counter the Injin walked, 
 the girl behind him like a shadow just as still and 
 just as easy. The man bought one thing after an- 
 other, the girl taking whatever he got and piling 
 it careful on the floor; till finally he quit. Then he 
 turned around and put his hand on her arm, saying 
 something to her and pushing her gently to the 
 counter. 
 
 "It's her turn now," says Dad. "I bet I know 
 what she'll buy." 
 
 So did I. I'd noticed a while back that whenever 
 some of the other women got a red blanket she 
 would say something to her father. I could tell by 
 the way she looked she wanted one, too, and I shore 
 hoped she'd get one. I watched her sign the trader. 
 I tell you, she had pretty hands and arms. As soon 
 as she'd made her wants known, sure enough the 
 trader and she come back to the pile of blankets 
 beside Dad and me. He showed her white ones and 
 green ones and striped ones; but she knowed just 
 what she wanted. 
 
 It was a red one. Her eyes wa'n't lying when 
 the other women got theirs. She didn't put that 
 blanket in the pile with the other things. She put 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 121 
 
 it on Injin fashion, over her dress. But it didn't 
 look half so nice as the dress, and I wanted to tell 
 her so. 
 
 Next she bought some beads about a tin cup 
 full, I reckon, of all colors, every color separate on 
 a string. When she took the pile in her hands, so 
 plumb tickled she was afraid she'd drop or break 
 them, she looked up at her father and said some- 
 thing. He laughed, low and glad, and made signs 
 to the trader, who smiled and nodded like he was 
 interested. He was a good trader an' knowed how. 
 
 "She says she will make her father somd fine 
 leggings with the beads," Dad told me. 
 
 The trader tried to sell her more. But, no, she 
 had everything she wanted. She was plumb satis- 
 fied, and you could see it in her face. Dad and her 
 father begun to talk in signs then, and she to make 
 packs out of the stuff they'd bought, laying her new 
 blanket on the counter near me. 
 
 I watched her work. Her hands was quick as 
 lightning ; and the closer I got the prettier I thought 
 her, which ain't always the way it turns out. 
 
 I reckon I'd been looking at her right steady, 
 when suddenly she straightened up and her eyes lit 
 right on mine. Cracky! Hers dropped quicker'n 
 scat. She said something to her father in a voice 
 so low I didn't reckon he'd hear it. But he turned 
 and come to her side, picked up the biggest part of 
 the packs, and started for the door. "Ho !" ha says, 
 and laughed out loud. It made him look mighty 
 different, that laugh, when his face lit up, and I 
 liked him. 
 
 The girl shouldered the rest of the goods and fol- 
 lowed him. It looked like a big load, for she was 
 little. I'd have carried it out, but I didn't reckon 
 
122 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 she'd let me. Anyhow, I followed them to the door 
 and watched them pack a couple of hosses with the 
 stuff. She was handy as a man, and as quick. She 
 worked on the off side and knowed her job as well 
 as Dad or Bill, and heaps better'n I did, though I'd 
 been making a hand ever since Joe was killed. 
 
 "Here, son." It was Dad, and he was grinning. 
 "Better take this here quill an* paper an* git that 
 letter wrote before ye fergit it," he says. "The 
 trader told me a mackinaw is leavin' fer St. Louis 
 tomorrow, an* that's lucky. 
 
 I could feel my face getting red, but I took the 
 quill and paper. "Do you reckon that officer was 
 bad hurt, Dad?" I says. 
 
 "Shoo ! no. He's plumb forgot all about that little 
 tap before now. Ain't no call to mention any sech 
 argument in yer letter, nohow, son," he laughed. 
 "I'd jest write an' tell 'em ye didn't know nothin' 
 'bout that killin', an' say I was well an' gittin' along. 
 I've fixed it so's the boat will take yer letter, an* 
 when it's wrote jest give it to the trader. I'll step 
 over to the lodge, I reckon, an' when ye're through 
 ye kin f oiler me." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 It was harder to write that letter than I had 
 thought. I knowed it looked mighty bad of me, 
 running away like I did ; and when I got the words 
 down on the paper telling I didn't kill Caley Byers, 
 I couldn't excuse myse'f for running off. I didn't 
 try to. If I had, I would have had to say something 
 about Dad hitting the officer. I couldn't say that, 
 so I just said I didn't kill Caley Byers and didn't 
 even know al?out it till I was in St. Louis. Some- 
 how, I reckoned Aunt Lib would believe me, and 
 that I was well. Then I quit. It seemed as though 
 if I couldn't tell it all, I couldn't tell any part that 
 would excuse me in running off. 
 
 I gave my letter to the trader and was just start- 
 ing for the door when Mike Fink and Carpenter 
 come in. I tried to slip out, pretending to be fixing 
 my belt; but Mike called, "Come, boy, let's licker 
 up!" 
 
 "I don't drink," I says, and got to the door. 
 
 But he started for me. "Wait," he says, and I 
 saw he was more'n half drunk. 
 
 Carpenter caught hold of his arm. "No, no, 
 Mike," he says, pulling him back. "Let the boy 
 alone. Let's me an' you take our licker by ourse'f s. 
 It's my treat." 
 
 Fink begun to laugh. It sounded nasty and 
 mean; but he let Carpenter lead him towards the 
 back end where the liquor was ; and I went on over 
 to the lodge. 
 
 Dad was inside mending my saddle that was Joe's 
 
 123 
 
124 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 and Bill was half asleep on a robe, with the sweat 
 prickling out on his forehead. 
 
 "It's hotter'n fire in here," Dad says when I sat 
 down near Bill. "Let's git outside an* set in the 
 shade of the lodge." And he picked up the saddle 
 and his tools and we moved out, him and me. Bill 
 raised up, too, but he only picked up a stick of fire- 
 wood and propped up the lodgeskin higher from the 
 ground and then stretched himse'f again. 
 
 "What are we goin' to do fer a camp-keeper, 
 Dad?" he says, wiping his forehead with his 
 sleeve. 
 
 "We must look around," Dad answered, poking 
 his awl into the leather of the saddle. "It'll be hard 
 to find another man like Joe. He was a mighty 
 good skinner and flesher, Joe was." 
 
 "Couldn't double up with Jake and Alex's men, I 
 reckon?" suggested Bill, like he knowed Dad would 
 object, which he did. 
 
 "No," he says. " 'Tain't good style to be beholden 
 to others. We'll look around keerful, keepin' our 
 eyes open an' our mouths shet. We don't want 
 them that's lookin' too hard fer a job. Them kind 
 is ginerally small potatoes." Then after he'd set 
 with the saddle in his lap for nigh an hour, he says, 
 "Son, we'll hev to move agin, I reckon. The sun's 
 a-workin' 'round here." 
 
 And so we moved, Dad and I, while Bill dozed 
 on the buffalo robe, until the store was out of sight 
 behind the lodge. We didn't see Fink and Carpen- 
 ter coming nor even hear them, until they stood 
 before us, Mike with a tin cup in one hand and his 
 other arm around Carpenter's neck. Stopping, he 
 bowed low to Dad and me. 
 
 "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he says. "Me an' 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 125 
 
 Carpenter's made it all up, an* we've come over to 
 tell ye. Ain't we, pardner?" 
 
 "Yes," Carpenter says, glancing queer at Dad. 
 
 "Take a drink then," says Fink, swinging round 
 the cup and slopping the liquor. 
 
 Carpenter took the cup and drank. Then he give 
 it back to Fink, who also took a drink. His eyes 
 was red and he swayed a little on his feet and begun 
 to hiccup between his words. "We drink from the 
 same cup, me an' my ol' pardner," he says, slapping 
 Carpenter on the back. "Yes, sir, an' the same robe 
 covers us both, like it orter do." He staggered and 
 spilled nigh all the rest of the liquor, but straight- 
 ening himse'f and looking at Carpenter like he 
 didn't see him, he says: "Say! let's show 'em how 
 our confidence is after our little squabble, hey? 
 Let's let's s-shoot this here damned cup off'n each 
 other's heads at seven seventy yards, jes jest to 
 show 'em, hey?" His bleary eyes was leering at 
 Carpenter now, daring him, like. Carpenter smiled, 
 looking at Dad kinder helpless. He wa'n't drunk; 
 an' somehow I knowed Mike wa'n't so far gone as 
 he acted. 
 
 "Men," says Dad, sticking the awl in the ground 
 beside him. "Ye're in liquor, an' hands ain't none 
 too stiddy then, ner eyes. Better go slow." 
 
 Fink scowled ornery. "Liquor never stopped me 
 an' my pardner from drawin' a bead," he says. 
 "Let's show 'em, Carpenter," he urged. 
 
 Then Carpenter put his foot into it. "Who'll 
 shoot first?" he says, like he didn't want Mike to 
 think he was afraid. 
 
 "We'll sky a copper, an' the winner'll shoot first," 
 says Mike, digging into his pocket. He brought 
 out a penny an' tossed it high. 
 
126 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "Heads!" calls Carpenter, as the coin was going 
 up. 
 
 "An' tails she lies !" laughed Mike, bending over 
 the penny that fell near my feet. "See f er yerse'f ," 
 he says. 
 
 And sure enough, it was tails. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" Fink begun to laugh. "Come on, 
 all of ye. Everybody outside the gate, an* we'll 
 show ye what confidence between pardners is like. 
 Come on, Dad. Down the saddle! Come an* see 
 if liquor's dimmed my eyes!" 
 
 He was in high spirits, and I noticed he wa'n't 
 hiccuping no more, nor staggering neither, as we 
 went along. For we was all following him towards 
 the gate like it was the only thing to do. "I'll go 
 an* git the cup filled agin, boys," he says, and run 
 into the store as we passed. And everybody in the 
 Post joined the party, eager like folks is to see a 
 rucus. 
 
 Talbot come out and fell in beside Carpenter. 
 They begun to talk low, but so's I heered part of 
 what they was saying. Directly Mike rushed past 
 us to head the procession; and when he got by, 
 holding the cup of liquor in front of him, Carpen- 
 ter said: "Talbot, I want ye to hev my rifle, pow- 
 der horn, pouch, an' pistol. I believe Mike will kill 
 me." 
 
 Talbot stopped still and I had to walk on ; but I 
 heered him pleading, "Don't be a fool an' let him 
 shoot ye down !" 
 
 But Carpenter took hold of Talbot's arm and 
 started with him to follow us outside the gate. I 
 tried to get to tell Dad what I'd heered; but Fink 
 was with him, and I couldn't. 
 
 No sooner had we strung out of the gate than 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 127 
 
 Fink shut it on its creaking hinges and saying, "All 
 ready!" he handed Carpenter the cup, about half 
 full, shook hands with him, paced off seventy yards, 
 and turned and faced him. 
 
 My knees felt like they did when I run onto the 
 rattlesnake before the fight. Carpenter stepped 
 away from Talbot, stooped and picked up a charred 
 stick from an old lodge-fire, and blackened a little 
 spot on the cup. Then he set the cup square on his 
 head. 
 
 He wa'n't ten feet from me; nor any of us, for 
 we was all in a bunch. "All right Mike, let her go !" 
 he calls. And Fink raised his rifle. 
 
 My muscles tightened awful. The muzzle didn't 
 wobble, and I watched to see it flash. But Fink 
 lowered it, and I loosened up some. "Stand still, 
 Carpenter," he calls. "Don't spill that liquor. I'll 
 be wantin' a drink in a holy minute !" 
 
 And his rifle went up again and flashed. 
 
 Carpenter pitched forward on his face. Talbot 
 run to him and rolled him over. There was a bullet- 
 hole plumb in the middle of his forehead. 
 
 "You've spilled that liquor, an' I need it," called 
 Mike, dropping the butt of his gun to the ground. 
 
 "You've killed him!" cried Talbot hoarsely. His 
 hands was clenched till his knuckles was white. 
 
 "The hell I have! I drawed as fine a bead on 
 that cup as I ever did in my life. Damn that gun !" 
 Mike bent his head, blowing his breath into the 
 barrel of his rifle to rid it of smoke, and begun to 
 reload. 
 
 "Come, son, let's be jiggin'," whispered Dad. 
 
 And we turned away. "I was afeered to stay 
 there," he said. "Afeered I might mess things up 
 more if I did, mebby." 
 
128 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 That's all he said till we got back to the lodge 
 where he picked up Joe's saddle again and begun 
 to work at it. I set down beside him, but there 
 wa'n't no use telling him what I'd heered now. I 
 was numbed all over anyway couldn't think of 
 anything but Carpenter with the tin cup on his 
 head, ten feet from me. I'd even heered the bullet 
 hit him plain. 
 
 "Best not to think about it, son," says Dad, after 
 we'd been setting there a spell. He cut a raw-hide 
 thong with his knife, slow, like. "Jest drive it out 
 of yer camp. It's like a skunk an' ain't fit to asso- 
 ciate with nohow," he says, threading the thong 
 through a hole he'd made with his awl. He begun 
 to hum a tune; but I knowed his mind wa'n't on it, 
 nor his work, neither ; and directly he says : "Crime 
 itse'f punishes crime, an' all debts are paid by all 
 men. A day don't count, nor a year. The score 
 will come even; it's plumb bound to. Reach! me 
 that awl again, son." 
 
 I gave him the awl. And then I saw the men 
 trooping in through the gate, "They're coming 
 back," I says. 
 
 "Yes; more liquor, I reckon. An* Bill's with 
 'em," he says, getting up and carrying the saddle 
 into the lodge. 
 
 In a little while they was singing over at the 
 store. And when more than an hour had gone by 
 and Bill didn't come, Dad says, "Son, jest you slip 
 over yonder an' hang around a little spell. Don't 
 say nothin' to nobody; not even Bill. But jest ha'nt 
 him, like. 'Twill be a reminder, mebby, an' better'n 
 f er me to go, I reckon." 
 
 I found Bill right away, leaning against the wall 
 across the room from the counter where Fink and 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 129 
 
 the rest was drinking. I slipped over to him and 
 squatted down with my back against the logs, doing 
 as Dad told me. Then I saw Talbot, alone over in 
 the corner. He was watching Fink like a cat; and 
 I took to watching him. 
 
 Mike was spelling his name and pounding the 
 counter with his fist. Suddenly he saw Talbot, and 
 his eyes narrowed and looked cunning and mean as 
 a coyote's. "I say my name is M-I-C-K-E 
 P-H-I-N-C-K, Mike Fink!" he says, leering at Tal- 
 bot. "An* there's more dirty, white-livered cowards 
 in this Post than would patch hell a mile. 7 kin 
 lick 'em any of 'em! I say I kin lick any white 
 man, Injin, er Frenchman in the house, er any- 
 where ! I want to fight ! I'm Mike Fink, an' I kin 
 out-shoot any " 
 
 Talbot was close to his side in a second. "That 
 was a wild shot ye made this afternoon !" he hissed 
 through his teeth. 
 
 Fink jumped back, bumping over a Frenchman. 
 "I killed that skunk a-purpose a-purpose, you 
 damned fool !" he yelled, his face white with rage. 
 
 A pistol flashed in Talbot's hand, not a foot from 
 Mike's heart and he went down. 
 
 I stood up. Talbot bent over Mike in the powder 
 smoke. "You snake," he hissed, looking down at 
 him with the pistol in his hand. "You low-down 
 snake ! I killed ye with his pistol Carpenter's own 
 pistol! Do ye hear me, damn ye?" 
 
 I can smell that powder-smoke yet and see him 
 bending over Mike Fink with the pistol in his hand. 
 When the men had fallen back he was gone. 
 
 Bill and I went to the lodge. I felt glad all over, 
 and I ain't ashamed to say it. 
 
 But we never saw Talbot again, any of us. He 
 
130 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 must have been afraid of trouble over killing Fink, 
 although he need not. Anyhow, he slipped out of 
 the stockade and away; and that fall was drowned 
 while trying to cross a river. And so all three pard- 
 ners died with their boots on. And I had liked 
 Carpenter maybe by comparing him with the 
 other two. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 The next morning we did some trading on our 
 own account. Dad paid ten dollars f er a spade that 
 a person could buy at Coon Creek fer sixty cents, 
 easy. We bought a sawed-off scatter-gun from a 
 trapper who was going down the river, in the 
 mackinaw, besides. Dad said it would be good 
 medicine in a night attack at close quarters, and I 
 reckoned it would. 
 
 In the afternoon there was some hoss-racing up 
 the river a piece between some of the men at the 
 Post and In j ins. I wanted to see it and mighty nigh 
 decided to go with Bill who started early with some 
 more men; but Dad said he'd stay and tinker the 
 rigging and I didn't want to leave him behind, so 
 I didn't go. 
 
 It was nigh sundown when Bill come back. Dad 
 was cooking supper just outside the lodge, broiling 
 some fat buffalo steaks on willow coals. I watched 
 him lay green willows on the coals, some one way 
 and some another, crosswise of the first. Then he 
 spread the steaks on the sticks and salted them 
 plenty. The meat sizzled and wrinkled and smelled 
 mighty good; and in no time he took hold of the 
 two outer sticks and flopped it over. It was 
 browned in squares, like, and fairly bubbling with 
 its own fat. The green willow sticks didn't even 
 start to burn, and Dad said the bark would flavor 
 the meat. He took pains with it, I tell you, and 
 was right busy, squatting before the hot coals with 
 one knee on the ground and both hands tending to 
 three big steaks. 
 
 131 
 
132 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Bill's mouth fairly watered when he smelled the 
 meat. "Ho! pardner," he laughed. "I'm wolfish 
 an' kin spot fat cow a mile off." 
 
 "He'p yerse'f," says Dad, handing him over a 
 dripping steak on the willows, right off the coals. 
 
 "I saw Kenneth McLeod today ; an' if ye're agree- 
 able I reckon I could git him fer our camp-tender," 
 said Bill, taking the steak. "I didn't say nothin' to 
 him thought I'd wait. He's a breed, but I knowed 
 his father down below, an' he was a good man. His 
 mother's a Cree woman," he says. 
 
 "I'm agreeable if ye know him," Dad told him. 
 "His Injin blood ain't no bar with me. Git him 
 if ye reckon he's fit." 
 
 Cracky ! the meat was good. Dad got up and cut 
 two more steaks and spread them on the coals; but 
 the fire wa'n't so good as it had been. 
 
 "McLeod told me he was with the Crees above 
 here," says Bill, taking a drink of water in great 
 gulps. "I'll see him tomorrow. 'Tain't far to the 
 village, most likely," he says. 
 
 "No," says Dad, turning the meat again, "Red 
 Robe told me the Crees was camped about an hour's 
 ride up the Yellowstone. Must be a right smart 
 village of 'em to be where they are. Ye'd better 
 ride out an' see McLeod in the mornin', Bill. Jake 
 an* Alex oughter be here now, mighty quick." 
 
 Red Robe. That was the name of the girl's 
 father the girl I'd seen in the store. I wanted to 
 see her again. And long after Dad and Bill was 
 asleep that night I thought about her and wondered 
 if Dad would plague me if I went with Bill. The 
 longer I thought about going the more I wanted to 
 see her, and before I went to sleep I'd decided I'd 
 go anyway, even if Dad did poke fun at me. I'd 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 133 
 
 never seen a big Injin village, and now I had a 
 chance. 
 
 I waked up just at day and built a fire. Then I 
 went down to the river and took a swim. By the 
 time I got back with a kettle of water Dad and Bill 
 was up, and Dad said, "Conscience troublin' ye, 
 son?" 
 
 "Nope," I says. "I thought I'd go 'long with Bill 
 and see the Injin village, so being awake I turned 
 out." 
 
 "Shoo!" he laughs, "I wouldn't let it keep me 
 awake, less it was a hostile village. But mebby it's 
 only a red blanket that's pesterin', son." He said 
 it low so I knowed Bill didn't hear it. 
 
 But I was glad I'd out with it anyway. It was 
 settled, and I felt better. So while Dad was down 
 at the river I told Bill I was going with him. "All 
 right," he says. "I'll send an Injin out fer a couple 
 of hosses." 
 
 Before the sun was up we rode out of the gate 
 and up the river. It was a still morning, and going 
 to fetch in a hot day. We passed the herders with 
 our hosses and mules. Eagle, Dad's white gelding, 
 was fat and as sleek as an ivy leaf, and my hoss 
 that was Joe's war-pony looked good, too; and so 
 did all the stock, for that matter. 
 
 Directly I saw an Injin on top of a knoll beyond 
 us. He was waving a robe over his head. After- 
 wards he dropped it, picked it up, and dropped it 
 again. "He's tellin' the village we're comin'," says 
 Bill. "It's early yit an' most likely the hunters are 
 still in camp." 
 
 We passed close to the foot of the knoll, not see- 
 ing the Injin any more; and riding around a point 
 of timber, we come in sight of the village more 
 
134 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 than a hundred lodges in a grove of big trees by the 
 river. The sun was coming up, and there was just 
 enough breeze to stir the leaves on the tall cotton- 
 woods. The lodges was pitched in a big circle with 
 their doors faced to the rising sun skin-lodges all 
 shaped alike, though not all of a size. Some of 
 them, half hidden by the bushes, looked far away 
 and kind of make-believes in the circle that reached 
 from the river's bank to the outer edge of the 
 grove. Some was painted queer-like, with funny 
 looking animals on them. You could tell what 
 every animal was intended to represent, and some 
 of them was mighty well done. I never saw so 
 many dogs cur-dogs that looked like wolves; and 
 fine hosses was staked here and there in the village, 
 fat and sleek as butter. I knowed right away they 
 was picked buffalo-runners, and war-ponies kept 
 handy in case of trouble. 
 
 We rode into the village between two fine lodges. 
 When we stopped and got down, just inside, I saw 
 a dozen groups of men sitting in the shade under 
 the trees, off to our right. Directly a tall, oldish 
 man got up in the group nearest to us andi said 
 something to another man. Then he got up. He 
 was a half-breed. They both come over to where 
 we was standing and the old man said, "How," 
 right agreeable. He said something to the half- 
 breed, and directly the breed says, "De Chief, she's 
 want you por tell heem wat you want." 
 
 Bill says, "Tell the Chief I'm wantin' to talk to 
 Kenneth McLeod." 
 
 The fellow didn't know who he meant at first, but 
 directly after Bill described McLeod, he under- 
 stood. 
 
 "Hees nam' Kap-sah-sik Mo-ca-mon; Leetle 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 135 
 
 Knife," he says, and he repeated to the Chief what 
 we wanted. 
 
 The Chief his name was Big Bear said some- 
 thing to the breed, and the fellow untied a pony 
 near us and, straddling him quicker'n lightning, 
 rode about the village, calling out something in 
 Cree. It was all in one tone of voice and sounded 
 wild as all get out to me then. 
 
 I couldn't see a woman anywhere, though I 
 looked. I could catch glimpses of their faces peep- 
 ing from under the lodge-skins that was raised 
 from the ground so that the breeze could pass 
 under; but none of them come out. There was 
 plenty of children hid behind the lodges and trees. 
 They stole shy glances at us now and again; but 
 they was quiet, and whenever they caught us look- 
 ing at them, drew back like shadows, plumb out of 
 sight. I was hoping some to see the girl that had 
 been trading at the store; but you'd hardly know 
 there was a woman in the village, and I gave It up. 
 
 Directly here come seven men, the breed leading 
 them. They was headmen and members of the 
 Council. The girl's father was one of them. They 
 spread two robes and we all knelt down on them. 
 Then Red Robe filled a big stone pipe and after he'd 
 got it going good, handed it to the Chief. The old 
 Chief was mighty solemn with it, and you could see 
 he was in earnest, the way he handled it before he 
 passed it to us. We all smoked it the Injins and 
 Bill and me. 
 
 I was wondering which was MoLeod and looked 
 them all over while Bill talked. He told the story 
 of our trip up the river our fight, and how Joe got 
 killed in English, talking to nobody in particular; 
 but everybody listened whether they understood or 
 
136 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 not. That was the first time I knowed that an 
 Injin will always let you have your say till you're 
 plumb through. Bill wound up by saying he wanted 
 McLeod to go with us and that we would pay him 
 thirty dollars a month. 
 
 You would have thought McLeod would answer 
 then, but he didn't. As soon as Bill had finished, 
 Red Robe filled the pipe again out of a mighty 
 pretty pouch and we smoked. It was queer to me 
 then ; but I've found there are fewer mistakes made 
 by smoking between an important question and an 
 answer. 
 
 When the pipe had been plumb around, a smallish 
 man across from the Chief begun to speak in Cree. 
 I reckoned he was re-telling everything Bill had 
 said, for the Chief and the other men listened, and 
 now and again one would say "Ho !" or "Ahh !" but 
 never interrupted till the smallish man was done 
 talking. Then we smoked again, slow as ever, and 
 when we'd done that the Chief talked and after him 
 everybody had a say. When the last had spoken, 
 the little man got up and shook hands with Bill. He 
 was Kap-sah-sik Mo-ca-mon, Little Knife, Kenneth 
 McLeod. 
 
 "HI'll go, me," he said. 
 
 And right away I liked him. He was as quick 
 and sure in his movements as a cat, and would look 
 you right in the eye. 
 
 "You'll want two hosses," says Bill, "an* we'd 
 like fer ye to come in as soon's ye kin, f er we want 
 to make winter quarters." 
 
 McLeod squatted on the robe. "Tomorrow, me, 
 HI'm come wid two 'orse," he said. And Red Robe 
 filled and lit the pipe. 
 
 I begun to figure which was Red Robe's lodge and 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 137 
 
 made up my mind to watch which one he went into 
 when we got through ; but directly the smoking was 
 finished Bill says, "Well, Lige, I reckon we're done 
 here." And I couldn't think of any excuse to hin- 
 der us going. 
 
 It was nigh noon when we got back to the Post, 
 and Dad was tickled plenty. Alex and Jake had 
 come in, and we'd hired Mac in Joe's place. Dad 
 was alone in the lodge, though, for Alex and Jake 
 and their skinners was over at the store. "The 
 boys'll want to spree a little, an' mind yer promise, 
 Bill," says Dad, hoisting up the lodgeskin to let the 
 breeze come in. 
 
 "I'm done, Dad," Bill says, like he didn't want to 
 be reminded. 
 
 "They want to trap as far up as the Marias," Dad 
 went on like he didn't notice he'd made Bill peevish. 
 "I think it's a good idee; but that's the Blackfoot 
 country. They'll be eight of us with their skin- 
 ners, though, an' we orter be able to make out if 
 we're keerful." 
 
 "I'm agreeable," says Bill, all smoothed again. 
 And Dad and him talked about the Blackfoot coun- 
 try. Dad had been there once and almost got 
 caught. 
 
 It was nigh sundown and the breeze felt good, 
 coming down the river from towards the moun- 
 tains, when Jake and Alex and their skinners come 
 back to the lodge. I listened to them talk, figuring 
 some on liking our new pardners; though they 
 wa'n't exactly pardners but a separate outfit by 
 themse'fs, which had joined us for strength. At 
 last Alex says, "All right, Dad. It's the upper 
 country then, and nigh the Marias. We'll be ready, 
 me an' Jake, day after tomorrow at daybreak. Let's 
 us all go over an' take a little liquor?" 
 
138 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "No," says Dad, "we're through, but you boys 
 go on." 
 
 Bill watched them head fer the store like he 
 wanted mightily to go, but begun to unroll his bed. 
 And in a little while we had all done the same. 
 
 Somehow, I knowed I'd like Alex Beasley. I 
 could see good nature in his blue eyes. He was tall, 
 and fair as Dad, and his hair was right curly and 
 hung around his shoulders in fluffs. He wa'n't over 
 thirty I reckoned, but account of a bullet in his 
 leg, he walked with a limp which made him appear 
 some older than he was. 
 
 His pardner, Jake Abernathy, was stockier and 
 darker and not so tall. He was mighty round- 
 shouldered said he got that way dodgin' truck his 
 step-mother throwed at him when he was a boy 
 and his arms was longer than usual. Alex and 
 Jake had been pardners for eight years, and they 
 got along better'n most men do. 
 
 Their skinners, Tom Ferguson and Sandy Ander- 
 son was cousins, alike in many ways, but different 
 most in talking. Tom was always at it and Sandy 
 had little to say. 
 
 I saw right away that Dad and Bill liked them 
 all; and so did I, especially Alex. 
 
 The next morning after breakfast Bill went out 
 to look at our stock while Dad and I worked at odd 
 chores that needed doing pack-rigging, mostly. I 
 run onto Bill's flat keg, and found it was nigh half 
 full yet. "I don't believe Bill's touched a drop of 
 his liquor since we camped with Fink and his 
 party," I says. 
 
 "It's queer, son," laughed Dad. "Bill loves liquor, 
 but somehow he kin torment himse'f by packin' 
 that keg an' never tetch it. Let him get where 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 139 
 
 liquor's fer sale, an' he'll trade his ammunition fer 
 it. It uster bother me, havin' him pack that keg, 
 but I never think of it no more, even in the Injin 
 country. Bill jest packs that keg to spite himse'f. 
 I hear ye're hankerin' to learn Cree, son." 
 
 I'd told Bill I wanted to learn Cree. "I would 
 like to," I says. I saw he was smiling, so I says, 
 "What's the joke? I don't see none." 
 
 "Nor me," he says, serious, like, "nor me." 
 
 Then he says, "I never did see Bill right riled 
 but once." I thought he'd changed the subject; but 
 he went on: "That was the day I met up with him 
 first. I was camped down on the Cheyenne, when 
 one mornin' 1 a man rode up to my fire an' got down. 
 His hoss was blowin' a-plenty, an' I sez to him, 
 'Must be lookin' fer somebody er leavin' the coun- 
 try, stranger/ 
 
 " 'I be,' he sez, madder'n a gut-shot bear. 'A lit- 
 tle black Frenchman's run off with my woman,' he 
 sez. 'I been tryin' to overhaul 'em, but they've lit 
 out fer her people, an* I "can't lick the whole tribe; 
 an' besides she ain't worth it, noway.' He squatted 
 by my fire warmin' his fingers. 'I wouldn't minded 
 him takin' the woman/ he growled, after a bit, 'but 
 the skunk's a low-down thief. He went an' packed 
 off my cookin' outfit with her. I'm plumb afoot 
 fer a f ryin' pan, by the Lord !' 
 
 "Then he saw how funny it sounded an' we 
 laughed, me an* him. That was nigh ten years ago. 
 She was a Cree woman." 
 
 He turned a pack-saddle over and looked at the 
 cinches. "Hev ye seen that roan war-hoss of 
 Alex's?" he says. "He's a wonderful fine animal." 
 
 "No," I says, "I haven't, but I will, likely." 
 
 His story was told for my benefit, I knowed. He 
 
140 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 wanted to keep me away from the girl. I didn't 
 know why then; but afterwards when we was in 
 bad trouble I understood, and saw he was only be- 
 ing fair. I he'ped him sew a ripped breeching 
 without neither of us saying a word, and by and by 
 Bill brought McLeod in. 
 
 Nobody could he'p liking Mac. He was small and 
 wiry and quick as a steel trap. I liked the way he 
 shook hands with Dad, looking up into his eyes like 
 he wanted him to believe he was to be counted on. 
 His skin was nigh as dark as any full-blood's, and 
 he wore rings in his ears and his hair braided like 
 an Injin's and only a breech-clout and leggings for 
 clothes. His eyes was black and sharp and he had 
 a mouth like Dad's straight-cut, with thin lips. 
 He was kind as a woman, and had mighty little to 
 say, himse'f, though he always looked you right in 
 the eyes if you talked to him. His English was 
 funny. At first I wanted to laugh whenever he 
 talked, but I got used to it, and in no time I could 
 talk like him, and did sometimes. I was right 
 friendly with him from the start because I figured 
 on learning Cree from him. But my liking was 
 genuine and grew stronger every day. 
 
 I thought I'd learn the girl's name the very first 
 thing; so when he and I was shaping up the packs 
 the next morning, getting all ready to start on the 
 following day, I says, "Do you know Red Robe, 
 Mac?" 
 
 "She's my honkle, Red Robe," he says, without 
 looking up from his work. 
 
 That give me a queer thrill. Mac was related 
 to her. "How does that come?" I says. 
 
 "My modder's sister's his 'oomans." 
 
 I couldn't figure that out for a minute; but di- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 141 
 
 rectly it was plain. Mac's mother was Mrs. Red 
 Robe's sister. Mac was a cousin of the girl. 
 "What's her name, Mac?" I says. 
 
 "Go's dat you'll mean?" 
 
 "Why, Red Robe's girl," I says, remembering he 
 didn't know anything about me seeing her. 
 
 "She's got two, free, four, mebby five gal, Red 
 Robe," he says, stopping to fill his pipe. "Wan, 
 hees nam' Yellow Flower; nodder, hees nam' Sits- 
 an'-Seengs; nodder wan, hees nam' Bluebird; nod- 
 der wan, hees nam' " 
 
 He was stuck. His forehead puckered and he 
 squatted by the fire for a coal to light his pipe with. 
 "HI don' know hees nam dat bird is walk hon de 
 long lag," he says. 
 
 "Oh," I says, "snipe." 
 
 "No, no beeg wan ! Hell of a long lag, dat wan ! 
 He's walk hon de plain an' fly. Mak' de cry, too." 
 
 "Crane sand-hill crane," I says. 
 
 "Yas, by gar! Dat's de wan. Sand-hill crane. 
 Wah-chee-cha, hees nam', Cree. He's mean hon de 
 Englis', Speerit de Mountain mebby Mountain 
 Ghos' som-e-ting lak dat. HI don' spick de Eng- 
 lis' lak de Cree or de French, me." 
 
 I saw my chance. "I wish you'd learn me to talk 
 Cree," I says. "Will you?" 
 
 "You bat ! Me, HI'll be glad por talk de Cree, me 
 an' you," he says, going back to the packs. 
 
 After that he spoke to me in Cree and then said 
 the same thing in English. It seemed like I could 
 learn Cree and remember it easy. I stuck to him 
 close and talked to him about Red Robe and his 
 daughters. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 We was off before the sun was up eight of us 
 now, with a long string of pack-animals. When I 
 looked ahead the pack-train looked nigh a quarter 
 of a mile long. It was a sight I can't never forget 
 several hosses and mules, then a man, then more 
 hosses and mules, then another man, till at last 
 come Mac and me. Dad was ahead with Bill and 
 Alex; but I was learning Cree and making a hand 
 with Mac. 
 
 The day was hot so hot we all felt glad when 
 night come. We'd cut straight across to strike the 
 Missouri at the mouth of the Musselshell, and the 
 country was without a tree just rolling plains, and 
 hotter'n all get out. The first night we made a dry 
 camp no water at all, but we got along without it 
 and pulled out mighty early in the morning. About 
 noon we come to water and let the stock drink, but 
 didn't unpack. That night we camped on good 
 water, and after that we wa'n't obliged to make any 
 dry camps. 
 
 I reckon 'twas late in the afternoon of the ninth 
 day when we struck the Missouri at the mouth of 
 the Musselshell. It had been a hot, dry trip days 
 without seeing a tree. The rivers looked mighty 
 good, I can tell you, and we camped there and 
 rested and let the stock fill up good. We was 
 mighty careful, though, for we was well into the 
 Blackf eet country and they wa'n't friendly to Amer- 
 icans but traded with the British. Dad told me 
 that the Hudson's Bay company was behind it, too. 
 But we didn't intend to trade any until spring, and 
 
 142 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 143 
 
 then, as soon as we got rid of what goods we had, 
 light out quick. Most every night the men talked 
 of the ornery ways of the Hudson's Bay traders, 
 Mac setting beside me listening but never taking 
 part in the conversation unless he was asked a ques- 
 tion. 
 
 We stayed in the camp a week. It was Septem- 
 ber and there was signs of the summer's end when 
 we started off up the Missouri, following the course 
 of the great stream as close as we could. Bad- 
 lands, queer country and rough, kept us far away 
 sometimes. Then again we was close and camped 
 in still cottonwood groves by the river itse'f. We 
 built small fires and mighty few of them, using only 
 dry willow or alder wood for fuel. Every day we 
 saw big herds of buffalo, but no Injins, although we 
 was always on the lookout for them night and day. 
 One day I saw a grizzly bear the silver-tip that 
 Captain Lewis called the white bear. And he did 
 look nigh white in the sunshine. Cracky ! he was a 
 big fellow, and didn't want to give the trail either. 
 After that we saw more and more of them as we 
 traveled towards the Rockies. We camped early 
 one day because we saw buffalo running, but al- 
 though we scouted around and Dad found fresh 
 sign of them we saw no Injins. 
 
 It was on the seventh day after leaving the Mus- 
 selshell that we come to the mouth of the Marias. 
 It's waters, swifter than the Missouri, made a fuss 
 in the big river when it entered, but in less than a 
 hundred yards was swallowed up and belonged to it. 
 
 We made camp and put out a guard before sun- 
 down. It was a beautiful spot, and the night come 
 on cool and clear as a bell. There wa'n't a sound 
 in the air except the rippling of the Marias waters 
 
144 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 cutting into the Missouri in a clear streak. And 
 when the moon come up and its light fell on the 
 ripples it looked like a million silver fish was jump- 
 ing and playing in the middle of the stream. It 
 was mighty hard to believe there was trouble in 
 such a place ; but the low voices of the men and lit- 
 tle fire, even to cook, kept me reminded of it till I 
 got fidgety and restless as all get out. 
 
 We was up before daylight and Dad and Bill and 
 Alex and Jake set out to explore the country and 
 look for a site for our winter camp. Mac and I 
 was with the stock, and Tom and Sandy stayed in 
 camp. I could talk a good bit of Cree with Mac 
 now, and every day I learned more, besides the sign 
 talk. It was easy for me, and I liked it. Mac 
 wa'n't never tired nor ornery, but took pains with 
 me and was tickled when I learned and remembered 
 my lessons. 
 
 It was after noon when the men got in. They 
 had decided to cross the river and make the camp 
 on the Marias near its mouth. So before sundown 
 we was across and had piled the packs for a stand- 
 off in case of attack. It was a better place for the 
 camp than on the other side. I could see that. 
 And that night they decided to build a stockade. 
 
 "I reckon ye've been here before, Mac?" says 
 Dad. 
 
 "Oui, Hl'm been 'ere planty tarn, me. De Cree 
 she's lak por stop 'ere. Som-e-tam Blackfeet, she's 
 mak de fight jist 'ere. Planty buffalo, planty bee- 
 vair. Good place, dis wan, por mak' de beeg, strong 
 camp." 
 
 "We'll shore try to make it strong," says Dad. 
 "An' I only hope we kin git it done before they 
 jump us. In the mornin' Lige an' Mac kin guard 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 145 
 
 the stock an' mebby find time to cut some grass. 
 The rest better jump right in an' go to cuttin' logs." 
 
 "That's the idee," agrees Alex, cheery like he al- 
 ways was. And they laid out the stockade, fifty by 
 sixty-five feet, besides a strong pole corral to join 
 onto it. It looked like a mighty big job; but there 
 was eight of us ; and in the morning we begun. 
 
 At first the sound of the axes bothered me a heap. 
 I was sure it could be heered a mighty long way; 
 but the logs had to be cut, and a lot of them. They 
 was ten feet long and set in the ground over two 
 feet on end like the stockade at the mouth of the 
 Yellowstone, only smaller, of course. There wa'n't 
 no runway, but plenty of loop-holes, and the logs 
 was tied by a girder pegged half way up and braced 
 every little bit, from it to the ground on the inside 
 so the logs couldn't be pushed over. Every day for 
 more than two weeks Mac and I guarded the stock 
 and cut grass while the other men worked on the 
 stockade. We hadn't seen an Injin; but we wa'n't 
 careless, and kept expecting them. Each night 
 Mac and I would tie up our grass and pack it in; 
 and each night the stockade was farther along, till 
 at last it was done, gate and all. It had been hard 
 work, especially when the men had to stand night- 
 guard after working all day. I felt relieved when 
 we was all safe inside and could build a decent fire; 
 for the nights was getting right sharp. 
 
 Dad had pitched his lodge and we had made it 
 snug for a long stay. Everybody's bed was in it, 
 and all the goods was piled in two tents belonging 
 to Alex and Jake, so there was sleeping room to 
 spare in the lodge. 
 
 "Now," says Dad, filling his pipe the first night 
 inside the stockade. "I feel we're fixed, an' before 
 
146 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 the storms set in." He looked so satisfied and 
 cheerful, setting there, that I thought the job of 
 making the stockade was worth while. "There's 
 fur a-plenty, here," he says, "but I reckon we'd best 
 make a little killin' o' meat right away now, so we 
 kin dry it agin the time when it's scarce or poor or 
 the Blackfeet jumps us an* they shore will." 
 
 "We'll hev to make some travois, too. We'll need 
 'em," says Alex. "They'll be a sharp frost tonight," 
 he goes on. "We kin go to trappin' mighty soon 
 now. But speakin' of dryin' meat; I never see a 
 rack of it but what I think of Tom Meek's squaw. 
 Remember her, Dad?" 
 
 "Reckon I do," laughs Dad, putting a stick on 
 the fire. "Reckon I do. She was nigh as wide as 
 she was long, an' full twice as heavy as she looked." 
 
 "She's dead," says Alex, interrupting. 
 
 "Yes, there ain't no doubt of it. Leastways not 
 in my mind, nor Bill's," says Dad, refilling his pipe, 
 slow. "She died a year ago last winter. Me an' 
 Bill was camped nigh Tom ; an' the woman took sick 
 along in January. It had been right warm. No 
 storms to speak of. She was took sudden an' bad 
 an' kept gittin' worse an' worse, till one night Tom 
 rode over to our fire. He asked us if we'd kinder 
 ride herd on the woman whilst he made a trip to 
 the Post fer some medicine; an' of course we said 
 we would do all we could fer her, an' we did. It 
 was better'n a hundred miles to the Post; an' the 
 next mornin' after Tom set out, a blizzard set in 
 a bad one the worst I'd seen in a long time. 
 
 "Me an' Bill went over to Tom's camp an' built a 
 fire an' cut some wood an' cooked. We hustled 
 around an' made the woman some tea ; but while we 
 was there she died. We camped right there the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 147 
 
 next day an* the next. Then the weather moder- 
 ated. It got warm agin too warm. Tom hedn't 
 come in, an* me an* Bill reckoned he'd got lost or 
 froze in the blizzard, mebby. But we stayed there 
 in his camp, like we felt we ought to, till two more 
 days went an* still there wa'n't no Tom. Then me 
 an* Bill held a council. Something hed to be done 
 with the woman. So we packed her out of the 
 cabin an' laid her down on the plains so she'd 
 freeze. Night come again, but Tom didn't; so we 
 packed the woman back into the cabin to keep the 
 wolves from gittin' her in the night. That went 
 on for three more days an' nights packin' her out 
 at daylight to freeze her, an' packin' her in agin at 
 night to fool the wolves. Yes sir, that woman is 
 dead. I kin prove it by Bill." 
 
 He wa'n't laughing; but there was something 
 mighty funny in the way he told it, though he was 
 serious enough. 
 
 "Sioux woman, wa'n't she?" Alex says, knocking 
 the ashes out of his pipe. 
 
 "Nope," says Dad, "she was a Cree." 
 
 I looked at him quick, but he didn't see me, and I 
 couldn't make out whether he was meaning any- 
 thing or not. "Why didn't Tom come back?" I 
 says. 
 
 "Got lost in the blizzard," he says. "Badly froze, 
 too ; but we hed a funeral before we 'tended to him, 
 poor devil." 
 
 "Well, anyhow," says Alex, "every time I see a 
 rack of drying meat, I always think of that woman. 
 She was the busiest meat-dryer I ever see. What 
 become of Tom, Dad?" 
 
 "The Rees killed him last fall him an' a man 
 name o' Adams. Better turn in, son," he says to 
 
148 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 me. "It's your turn to go on guard at midnight. 
 You an* Mac relieve Bill an' Jake, ye know." 
 
 It didn't seem to me I'd been asleep five minutes 
 when Bill shook me. I got up quiet as I could and 
 went out of the lodge with Mac. The air was frosty 
 and the sky full of stars. As we come up to the 
 stock, Mac says, "Jake, pretty soon now, beeg storm 
 
 is come." 
 
 "How soon, Mac?" says Jake, stopping a minute 
 to talk, with his shoulders humped over in the chill 
 air. 
 
 "Mebby she's start tomorrow. Dam beeg wan, 
 dat storm is comin' now." 
 
 "What makes you think that, Mac?" I asked. 
 
 "I don' know, me," he said, looking at the starry 
 sky. 
 
 Then Jake left us an' we was still. We rode 
 around the stock once before picking stands, and 
 after that each man was a guard by himse'f. I 
 could see far out over the plains in the clear night 
 and across the Missouri, from where I stopped. 
 Such nights fetched me what I wanted of the plains. 
 And always my love for them got stronger. I 
 couldn't never see how any man could be small or 
 ornery and live on the plains. It seemed to me 
 that men ought to measure up to their country, 
 someway, and be big like it was. 
 
 Towards morning the sky begun to cloud up and 
 the wind hauled around to the north. A change of 
 weather was coming. But how could Mac have 
 knowed it with the sky so full of stars? 
 
 It wa'n't growing much colder, but the wind was 
 raw, and I was glad when daylight come. Alex and 
 Sandy relieved Mac and me, and we went into the 
 stockade where Dad and the rest was making tra- 
 vois. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 149 
 
 By ten o'clock it begun to rain, and early in the 
 afternoon sleet come, driven by a gale from the 
 north. It kept getting worse and before dark was 
 snowing hard so hard you couldn't see ten feet 
 ahead of you. The stock drifted into the cotton- 
 woods and the guard was glad to follow. The cold 
 strengthened all night, and when morning come on, 
 the plains was white and drifted bad. The wind 
 was still howling and driving sheets of snow with 
 a force that was hard to face. Nothing could stand 
 against it. Cottonwood limbs, suddenly froze, 
 snapped off, and even fair-sized trees was broke 
 down. It looked as though winter had come to stay. 
 
 That night was a hard one on the guard, and I 
 felt lucky because it wa'n't my turn. Dad built up 
 the fire in the lodge, and we was mighty snug and 
 comfortable, though it was bitter cold on the plains. 
 "Hear that wind," says Dad, tighting the guy-rope 
 by his side. "It's the equinoctial storm and a good 
 one ; but when it's spent itse'f we'll hev fine weather 
 fer a long spell, I cal'late. Jest as soon as it lets 
 up we must kill some meat. The buffalo might 
 drift an' leave the country. Shoo ! hear that wind," 
 he says again, as a gust nigh tipped over the lodge. 
 
 Mac said, "It is a strong wind," in Cree. And I 
 said, "Yes ; you said it would come." 
 
 Dad perked up and says, "How's the Cree lan- 
 guage comin' along, son?" with his gray eyes twink- 
 ling, but kind, like. 
 
 "She's do good," says Mac. "She's spick de word 
 jist de sam' lak de Hinjin." 
 
 We sat up till after the guard was changed. (The 
 men was nigh froze when they come in.) Then 
 we went to bed ; and the wind howled till nigh day- 
 light. 
 
150 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 But in the morning all was different. The storm 
 had passed, though the snow was drifted in the 
 coulees and along the Marias. By noon the sky was 
 clear and blue as it ever is on a summer's day, and 
 the sun shining so bright it was hard on my eyes. 
 The snow begun to melt away. Gullies fed by the 
 coulees filled up with muddy water that rushed to 
 the Marias or the Missouri, so that by sundown the 
 plains was white only in spots where the heavier 
 drifts had been piled by the wind. The sky had 
 never seemed so clean and clear and blue, and when 
 night fell the stars come out as though there hadn't 
 been a storm. Mac and I stood guard from mid- 
 night till morning. And there never was another 
 such a morning. 
 
 Mebby it was comparison that made it seem so 
 beautiful. Anyway, under the warm sky the little 
 spots of snow in the coulees looked plumb out of 
 place. On most of the trees the leaves was yet 
 green; but some, on the small quaking aspens, was 
 yellow, and, setting their color against the blue of 
 the sky, made a mighty pretty picture. The yellow 
 seemed brighter and the blue bluer, one color work- 
 ing to set off the other, like. Out in the breaks 
 and bad lands of the Missouri where the heat of the 
 summer had dried and withered every bit of color 
 to match the plains theirse'f s, the storm had fetched 
 back the reds and greens and yellows of the cliffs 
 and clay banks, till they looked pretty again, and 
 unreal, like. There wa'n't a breath of breeze stir- 
 ring; not a cloud in the sky. It was all so still 
 you'd think the elements was plumb ashamed of the 
 way they'd cut up the day before and was doing 
 their best to make you forget it. An old crow, a 
 moving black speck against the blue sky, called 
 Caw ! Caw ! from over the river. And when we got 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 151 
 
 into the stockade Dad was humming a tune and 
 peeling willows for a meat-rack, happy as all get 
 out. 
 
 "Now for the meat," he says, after Mac and I 
 had he'ped him f er a spell. "By the time we git it 
 to dryin' it'll be high time to set some traps, I 
 cal'late," he says. 
 
 And that was just the way it come out. We rode 
 out of the stockade when it was just coming day, 
 Dad and Mac and Bill and I, and by eight o'clock 
 had seen a small herd of buffalo grazing not far 
 from the breaks. We rode around to get wind of 
 them and Mac wanted to run them, but Dad ob- 
 jected. Mac had his bow and arrows as well as 
 his rifle, hoping, I reckon, that we'd run them. 
 We made a wide circle and got well to the leeward 
 of the herd. Then by leading our horses and crawl- 
 ing up a coulee, we got within easy range. 
 
 "Now, son," says Dad, "wait till I tell ye to cut 
 loose." 
 
 We settled ourse'f s, and pretty soon a cow walked 
 out from the herd a piece and Dad let go. She fell 
 to her knees, but got up and walked back into the 
 herd and kneeled down. Directly, out come an- 
 other cow, and Mac shot her, just as Dad had, 
 through the lights, and she poked back into the 
 herd and knelt like the other. Dad and Bill and 
 Mac kept waiting till a cow walked out, when one 
 of them would shoot her through the lights. And 
 by cracky ! directly half the herd was kneeling down 
 around the wounded buffalo. 
 
 "Now, son," says Dad, "get in an' pick cows. 
 Here we go!" 
 
 We commenced to shoot; and after a while the 
 herd stampeded, but not till we'd killed twelve fat 
 
152 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 cows. I had killed three, myse'f , and saw that the 
 trick was a good one. If we'd commenced to kill 
 right off, we wouldn't have got more than two or 
 three ; but by shooting those cows the way they did, 
 the herd got the idee that they wanted to bed down, 
 and so we got what we wanted. 
 
 "We'll hev back-fat that'll make an Injin home- 
 sick," laughed Dad. "That's nice clean work, an' 
 not a bull among 'em," he says. "Bill, if you'll go 
 in f er the travois the rest of us will butcher while 
 ye're gone; an* ye'd better fetch an extra pack-hoes 
 or two. We'll need 'em." 
 
 We worked hard, I tell you, and it was after mid- 
 night when we got the meat to the stockade. 
 
 And then we feasted. Fat buffalo steaks, roasted 
 before the fire on peeled willow sticks. We spread 
 them with skewers and hung them on roasting- 
 sticks before the coals. Cracky ! how fine they was. 
 They'd drip and sizzle and cook, finest in the world. 
 I ate till I couldn't hold no more, and so did the 
 others choicest cuts and plenty of them. When 
 the guard was relieved, instead of turning in, they 
 took up the feast where we'd left off. It was day- 
 light before the camp was quiet. 
 
 The stockade was a busy place in the morning. 
 We cut the meat into thin strips, strung it on the 
 peeled willows, and hung them on the racks to dry. 
 We even had to make some more racks and they 
 stretched the whole length of the stockade. The 
 sun begun to do its work right away. There wa'n't 
 a fly to bother, and by night I could see a big dif- 
 ference in the color of the meat. 
 
 "Looks like an Injin village hed moved in," says 
 Dad, washing his hands. "Them was fat ones," he 
 smiled. "We'll trot out the traps now, son. An' 
 tomorrow me an* you will set some of 'em." 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 There was a white frost on the grass the next 
 morning and no green left on the big cottonwoods, 
 Their leaves had turned since the storm. Every 
 breeze that shook them loosed a yellow shower that 
 left the branches like a passel of birds to flutter 
 about, crazy like, and then fall sometimes on the 
 river, where the wind and the current sent them 
 hither and yon. They huddled and piled in the 
 willows like they wanted to stay together, but the 
 keen wind hunted them out mighty nigh as soon as 
 they'd got settled. Some of the trees was 'most 
 naked, and the breezes was stripping the rest as 
 they passed, till the groves looked ragged and cold. 
 
 All night and all day the wild geese and brant, 
 swan and ducks kept flying over us, making a racket 
 that you would have to hear to believe; and while 
 we was eating supper the night before, a weasel, 
 white as snow, had run across the stockade. "Yon- 
 der he goes," says Dad. "He's white, and the fur's 
 prime." 
 
 The traps had been marked with a file one notch 
 for Dad's, two for Bill's and three for mine. Alex 
 and Jake was to trap below the stockade on the 
 Missouri and we was to take the river above it. 
 
 When we started out, Bill went on ahead of Dad 
 and me, and I watched Dad set his ten traps. He 
 talked all the time, showing me how and telling me 
 about beaver and their ways. "'Tain't a good plan 
 to mix territory in trappin'," he says, while he set 
 his tenth trap, "but whatever's in yer traps belongs 
 
 153 
 
154 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 to you accordin' to our agreement; an' to raise a 
 trap that ain't yer own is the lowest down job 
 known to free trappers." That just slipped out, but 
 I knowed he wanted me to remember it, though he 
 kept on talking without even looking up from his 
 work. 
 
 "Now," he says, wiping his hands on his shirt, 
 "beginnin' here ye pick yer own sets, an* if they 
 ain't good ones, I'll tell ye, son." 
 
 I'd watched him close, and I believed I could do 
 it. I didn't walk ten feet before I stopped and 
 waded into the water to set a trap. Dad didn't 
 say a word while I made me a slide and a bait- 
 stick. He watched me every mintue but didn't find 
 no fault, and I set my trap. After that I set an- 
 other and another, Dad on the bank far enough 
 away so he would leave no sign, and me in the 
 water. Only once, when I stopped to set a trap did 
 he object, and I moved to another place. 
 
 When my traps was all set we went back to the 
 stockade. "We'll hev a heap of work for ye, Mac," 
 said Dad, as we entered the lodge. "There's beaver 
 here a-plenty an' we'll make a good ketch." 
 
 I couldn't hardly wait for morning. The beaver 
 sign was everywhere along the river quaking as- 
 pens and cottonwoods cut down in big patches there. 
 You would think, to see them, that somebody was 
 slashing for a clearing in the bottoms along the 
 stream. And all the afternoon and evening I 
 guessed at the number I would catch in my ten 
 traps. Alex and Jake said the sign was plenty 
 down the river, too, and everybody was happy over 
 our good luck. I can't never forget that night. It 
 was as though I had made my first bet in some big 
 game of chance. I felt that I was at last doing my 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 155 
 
 part; that if only my traps took a decent number 
 of beaver, I would be satisfied with life. 
 
 I was first to get up and build a fire. It wa'n't 
 quite day; but I had been awake for more than an 
 hour before I'd turned out. 
 
 As soon as we had breakfast Dad and I set out 
 to visit our traps. We found he'd caught nine 
 beaver. He was bothered because one of his traps 
 was sprung and empty. I waited for him to take 
 out his beaver and reset his traps, though it was 
 hard to do. I wanted to get to my own. But at 
 last I did. I had six big beaver, mighty fine ones, 
 out of ten traps. Dad said I'd done good, and I 
 felt mighty proud when we begun to skin them out. 
 
 Skinning out a beaver is quick work, but fleshing 
 a beaver hide ain't quick nor easy. That's why 
 fleshing is done in camp. We all turned in and 
 he'ped the fleshers and by dark we had the hides 
 sewed into willow hoops to dry. There was forty 
 of them in all. Bill had caught ten and joked Dad 
 plenty because he'd lost one. 
 
 As fast as the hides was dry enough the fleshers 
 took them out of the hoops, folding them fur against 
 fur to make room for more. They made bales of 
 the dry skins and hung them up in the tents away 
 from the damp ground. In ten days we had two 
 hundred and thirty beavers, just our own outfit. 
 And Jake and Alex had taken nearly two hundred 
 between them. I begun to figure my earnings and 
 was plumb astonished at the figures. 
 
 The weather kept fine, though the nights was 
 mighty sharp and clear. When we'd cleaned out 
 the beaver within easy travel from the stockade, we 
 made a little camp, Dad and Bill and I, up above the 
 Marias about ten miles, I reckon. We hadn't much 
 
156 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 property in the camp so in case we was jumped 
 there wouldn't be anything to leave behind. Mac 
 come there everyday to take the beaver skins to 
 the stockade, so I kept practising Cree almost as 
 good as though we was together all the time. 
 
 Jake and Alex had moved down the Missouri, 
 leaving their camp-tenders at the stockade with 
 Mac; and among them they managed to guard the 
 stock and take care of the fur. But it kept them 
 busy; and if it was going to be a steady grind, they 
 couldn't have stood it. 
 
 Near the middle of December we was all in the 
 stockade just happened to go in at the same time 
 for supplies. The river hadn't yet froze over. In 
 the bends where there was eddies the ice would nigh 
 hold up a man, but where the stream was swift 
 there wa'n't no ice at all. Nobody had seen an In- 
 jin, and the buffalo grazed within sight of the stock- 
 ade most every day. We was having a feast and a 
 big talk, and it seemed good to all of us to be to- 
 gether again. 
 
 Dad was mending a pair of moccasinsj by the 
 lodge-fire. "Whenever I putter with a pair of 
 these," he said, cutting a piece of elkskin with his 
 knife, "I always think of pore oP Harvey Tucker. 
 One night 'way down on the Platte he was mendin' 
 his. Twas mighty cold, an' he hed a big buffalo- 
 chip fire burnin'. A Pawnee buck crawled up close 
 to the camp an' shot through the lodge-skin at Har- 
 vey's shadder. The arrow went clean through him, 
 an' we found him settin' up straight with his awl 
 in one hand an' a moccasin in the other. He was 
 froze stiff that-a-way. "Hello, Mac ! What's goin' 
 on?" 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 157 
 
 The lodge door had been jerked up and the half- 
 breed's head stuck inside. 
 
 "Jest my seeum smoke, me." 
 
 "Shoo! Signal-smoke?" 
 
 "Nope. She's jest de smoke de camp fire, dis 
 wan. 'Bout two, free mile hup de Marias. Mebby 
 w'iteman, hees smoke." 
 
 Dad stood up. "Whitemen ! Can't be whitemen, 
 Mac!" 
 
 "Wall, mebby Hinjin," said Mac, like he knowed 
 it wa'n't. "But dat wan hees look lak de w'iteman." 
 
 All of us that was in the lodge went outside to 
 look. On the Marias a thin coil of blue smoke was 
 going mighty nigh straight up under the sky. 
 
 "Lige, go out and tell the guard to be ready to 
 run in the stock," says Dad, looking to the priming 
 of his rifle. "Come on, Mac." 
 
 I run out to the guard, which was Sandy and 
 Alex. The smoke wa'n't so plain to be seen now, 
 but it was there and couldn't mean nothing but a 
 camp of some sort. I could see Dad and Mac mak- 
 ing their way up the stream towards the trouble- 
 some smoke. I hoped they would find whitemen 
 friends there. We was doing so good, and I could 
 see a small fortune ahead if only we could hold out 
 until spring. 
 
 Alex and Sandy had already seen the smoke be- 
 fore I got to them. "Too bad, Lige," Alex says, 
 with almost a cloud settlin' down on his good-na- 
 tured face. "It's a toss-up now whether we git out 
 with any fur." 
 
 I felt gloomy, I can tell you. It seems worse when 
 a fellow that always looks cheerful gets down- 
 hearted, like. Dad and Mac had disappeared. I 
 
158 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 waited, watching for them to show themse'fs; but 
 they was hid. It must have been two hours before 
 Alex saw them and pointed them out. 
 
 But they didn't make no signal; seemed to be in 
 no hurry; and my worry begun to get less, with 
 them coming boldly down the Marias without no 
 attempt at concealment. "I'll go in," I says, "and 
 find out what's goin' on up yonder." 
 
 My curiosity was up and my fear gone. I run 
 back to the stockade reaching the lodge long before 
 Dad and Mac come in. 
 
 "Whitemen." That was Dad's first word. 
 "Whitemen; an' what's more, they're Britishers 
 Hudson's Bay men," he says. "They cain't he'p but 
 see signs of us here, an' come in. If they don't 
 we're jest plain lucky, boys. Better git all the fur 
 as nigh out o* sight as we kin. The sight of it will 
 only lend 'em meanness." 
 
 "How many's in the camp ?" asked Bill, beginning 
 to he'p Mac and Tom pack away the beaver skins. 
 
 "Only three," says Dad ; "but that proves a heap." 
 
 The lodge-fire wa'n't nigh so bright that night. 
 The men talked till late, but they wa'n't feeling pert. 
 The smoke of the other fire, up the Marias, had 
 plumb deadened ours. Instead of packing up for 
 our camps above and below the stockade we 'fixed 
 ourse'fs for a visit from the Britishers, which Dad 
 felt sure would come. Nobody slept not even Bill 
 and when it got daylight Mac got up and left the 
 lodge. 
 
 Dad built the fire, and Sandy and Tom went out 
 to relieve Jake and Alex. When the guard got in 
 they said the fire had been kindled up the Marias 
 and the camp was still there. I was pouring the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 159 
 
 tea when Mac come in, quick and quiet and sharp- 
 eyed. "She's comin' now, dem w'itemans," he said. 
 And Dad tidied himse'f up to meet the company. 
 We swallowed our breakfast in a hurry and then 
 went to the gate and opened it wide, firing a few 
 shots of welcome as they rode in. They was three 
 whitemen; and I couldn't see any difference be- 
 tween them and ourse'fs. 
 
 We went back to the lodge, the men talking to- 
 gether as they walked along, and Dad sent me out 
 to the herd with their hosses. They had only four 
 three saddle-hosses and a pack-animal. I hur- 
 ried, for I wanted to hear what the strangers had 
 to say. Tom wanted to talk. But I says the men 
 looked all right I guessed and run back. 
 
 When I raised the lodge door, they was talking 
 and laughing like women at a quilting bee; so I 
 reckoned we was going to get along. 
 
 They had some liquor and treated. I liked their 
 looks and ways; and all the morning they talked 
 open, making no secret of their plans. They wa'n't 
 trappers but clerks in the hire of the Hudson's Bay 
 Company, and their post was 'way east and north 
 of us over the line. They had come a long way to 
 pay the Blackfeet a visit and at a big risk of bad 
 storms. They said they tried to keep in touch with 
 the Blackfeet and secure their trade when possible. 
 I couldn't see but what that was fair. And I reckon 
 Bill couldn't either, for he got out his flat keg and 
 treated. And when we had dinner Dad opened a 
 little keg of maple syrup he'd bought in St. Louis. 
 
 What a night we had! And what a feast, with 
 every little thing that Dad had laid in for an extra 
 splurge. They stayed two days and nights and we 
 
160 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 had a great time listening to their stories and tell- 
 ing yarns in our turn. 
 
 When they left us we rode more'n twenty miles 
 with them to see them off, and was mighty sorry to 
 have them go. Dad who had been suspicious of 
 them, had been won over, and give one of them a 
 powder-horn, all carved and thin as paper. 
 
 It wa'n't more'n noon though, when back in the 
 stockade, he and I was packing up a few things to 
 take to our camp up the Missouri, and I run onto a 
 leather packet. 
 
 "Shoo!" says Dad, "our friends must hev left 
 that. Fell out of their pockets, I reckon. Letters, 
 looks like, most of it. Reckon I'll saddle Eagle an' 
 overhaul 'em." 
 
 Bill, curious, took the packet. "Mebby 'twouldn't 
 be a bad idee to see if there's a fur-list in it," he 
 says, looking at Dad. "I don't much like to prowl 
 in a mess o' private papers, but I figger them fel- 
 lers is enemies, or their bosses is," he says, handing 
 the packet over to Dad, like he'd leave it to him. 
 
 Dad rubbed his chin. " Tears like the doin's of 
 ornery folks," he says, "but mebby it's the right 
 thing to do. What say, boys?" 
 
 "Let's hev a look," says Alex. " 'Twon't hurt 
 'em. An* if it's honest truck in the packet, we'll be 
 sorry we didn't let it alone ; an* if it's something we 
 ought to know, we'll be glad we looked." 
 
 So, slowly, like he was handling humming-bird's 
 eggs, Dad undid the packet. There was letters and, 
 as Bill guessed, a price-list of furs. But Dad's cu- 
 riosity had been roused, and directly a look of dis- 
 gust crossed his face. He opened and spread a 
 letter before us, though only three of us besides 
 himse'f could read. The letter was dated October 
 1, 1822, and read: 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 161 
 
 Mr. Josiah Berkshire, Esq. 
 Sir: 
 
 This letter will be delivered to you by an Iriquois 
 Indian who will faithfully return with whatever 
 list of goods you require for the spring trade. 
 
 With this letter is a list of prices now prevailing, 
 together with other information we deem impor- 
 tant. 
 
 We are happy to learn that you succeeded in se- 
 lecting a site for trading and trust that your House 
 will become an important one in North America. 
 
 It is most advisable that you pay a visit to the 
 Blackf eet before spring. Efforts are being made by 
 our competitors to open friendly relations with 
 these Indians who have, as you know, never traded 
 with Americans. Do not delay the visit. Make 
 suitable gifts to their chiefs and headmen and as- 
 sure them of our friendship. Endeavor to persuade 
 them to keep American trappers and traders out of 
 their country in order that we may hold their trade 
 as usual. 
 
 I trust that the winter will pass pleasantly and 
 that the spring will bring trade to your new House. 
 
 "The skunks!" said Dad, with anger in his gray 
 eyes. "The ornery skunks! We're in fer it now. 
 They'll start them Blackfeet our way as soon's they 
 reach their village. I've always heered they did 
 sech things, an* now I know. They kin come an' 
 git their packet, but I'll shore hold out this letter." 
 
 Bill lit his pipe. "I wish they would come after 
 it," he said between puffs. "I'd kinder like to cook 
 'em another meal." 
 
 We took down the meat-racks to make room for 
 the stock, and when morning come we took up every 
 trap, so that by night we was ready for trouble. 
 The stock was herded close in where the grass had 
 been saved for an emergency. 
 
162 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "We kin sleep tonight, an' tomorrow night, too, 
 says Dad, "but after that, f er a time, I reckon we'll 
 sleep standin' up like a pony." 
 
 "Mac," says Bill from his bed, "did ye ever know 
 of the Hudson's Bay outfit tryin' to keep the In- 
 jins set agin us Americans?" 
 
 "Oui. HFm know dat long tarn. She's tell it 
 Kootenai, she's tell it Cree, jest de sam'. De Cree 
 she's stop hon Canada mos* hall tarn. She's comin' 
 'ere, de Cree, some tarn por 'unt de buffalo, fight de 
 Blackfeet leetle, too, mebby, mos' every year." 
 
 "Wisht they was here now," growled Bill, turn- 
 ing over. "A Cree village is jest what I'd like to 
 
 see." 
 
 Mac muttered something under his breath. 
 "Mebby she's come, Meester Bill," he says, aloud. 
 And reaching fer a brand from the fire he lit his 
 pipe and passed it to me. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 One by one those in the lodge fell asleep, while 
 Mac and I speaking Cree between us, fed the fire 
 and waited for our turn to relieve the guard. Mac 
 seemed to be in a queer mood, gazing fixed at the 
 fire and filling his pipe oftener than usual. His 
 spoken words was little above a whisper, and more 
 and more he seemed unwilling to talk ; only answer- 
 ing my questions with a few whispered words. At 
 last, feeling the mood myse'f, I fell silent, and only 
 the breathing of our pardners and the crackling of 
 the fire made sounds. I lost myse'f complete. Aunt 
 Lib come into my mind, and Caley Byers; and 
 finally Red Robe's daughter replaced them both. I 
 got to dreaming of her. I tried to see her face in 
 the fire and thought I could. I could hear her soft 
 voice and tried to remember what she'd said to her 
 father that day in the store. I begun to hope to 
 see her talk to her and know her. She was young 
 like me, and pretty, and stranger than any girl I'd 
 ever seen. 
 
 "Come." Mac touched my shoulder. It was as 
 tight as a fiddle string and I jumped. "It is time 
 for us to go," he said, picking up his rifle. 
 
 We went out into the sharp, starlit night. I had 
 never felt so keen before. I couldn't have slept if 
 I'd tried. I felt like I wanted to run, to fight, any- 
 thing to give me a chance to exert myse'f up to the 
 limit of my strength. Cracky! how queer I felt. 
 And when out on a knoll-top under the stars Mac 
 begun to sing Cree, low, like, and earnest, I fell in 
 with him and beat time like a war-drum with my 
 
 163 
 
164 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 knife-handle on my rifle-stock. On our knees there 
 in the night we sung ; but I didn't know why then ; 
 nor that Mac was making medicine to bring the 
 Crees. He'd put some sort of a spell on me and 
 my thoughts was away in their village, as, beating 
 the time we sung together like full-blooded In j ins. 
 
 At last he got up and looking me full in the eyes, 
 his face close to my own, he says, "Mee-wah-sin ! It 
 is good. Ho!" 
 
 From then until day he spoke no more ; and when 
 the sunlight come and Sandy and Tom relieved us, 
 I had a feeling that the Crees wa'n't no longer on 
 the Yellowstone, that they wa'n't far away, and was 
 even moving towards us. But whether it was 
 Mac's singing and muttering that done it, I couldn't 
 tell. At last I said, "Where are the Crees now, 
 Mac?" as though I expected him to tell me. 
 
 "I do not know just where," he answered in Cree, 
 "but they are coming this way. Their village must 
 be on the Missouri below us." 
 
 Did you ever feel that a thing was true when 
 there wa'n't even the least proof of it? Well, I felt 
 that Mac's words was the truth just as much as I 
 would have believed them if he'd been with the 
 Crees a day before. And even now, after I've been 
 so long among them, I don't understand it. But I 
 felt relieved then; and have known such things 
 more than once since that December day. 
 
 They was gathering more wood and cutting more 
 grass when we got to the stockade. There wa'n't 
 any snow, but the ground was froze hard and they 
 dragged cottonwood logs into the enclosure with 
 rawhide ropes from a saddle. 
 
 "Sleepy, Lige?" asked Bill when I'd eaten my 
 breakfast. 
 
u 
 
 be 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 ~ 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 165 
 
 "No," I told him. "I never felt more wide awake 
 in my life." 
 
 "Let's me an' you go out an' kill a buffalo or two 
 fer fresh meat," he says. 
 
 And so we went, Bill and I. We killed two good 
 cows and had started back for the travois, when 
 from a knoll, I saw something that held my eyes. 
 It was moving a long string like a snake, and far 
 off down the Missouri out of the breaks. I pulled 
 up. "What's that yonder, Bill?" I says, pointing. 
 
 "Injins, by God!" he says. "Come on!" and he 
 ripped away, down and up, over the rolling country. 
 
 There was somebody on the gate when we come in 
 sight of the stockade. "It's Mac," I says, and Bill 
 pulled up and begun to ride in a circle. 
 
 Directly Mac burst out, making straight for us 
 and lashing his pony with his rope. When he was 
 nigh enough to hear, Bill called, "Injins comin', 
 Mac ! Want ye to hev a look at 'em ! Mebby they're 
 Crees !" 
 
 Then he wheeled his hoss and we raced back to 
 the knoll and stopped to wait till Mac come up. I 
 pointed and Mac give one sharp look. "Cree, by 
 gar, she's come!" he said, his black eyes shining. 
 
 "Whoopee!" yelled Bill, waving his blue head- 
 silk, nigh wild with relief. "Let's git the boys an' 
 go to meet 'em in style!" 
 
 I shan't never feel happier in my life. Every- 
 body was talking at once in the stockade. The 
 hosses was caught up, and Dad painted himse'f and 
 Eagle. Everybody painted up and fixed his hoss 
 for the welcome. Then, leaving Tom and Sandy in 
 the stockade, we pranced out to meet the Crees, 
 with everybody talking and laughing like a passel 
 of blackbirds in the fall time. 
 
166 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 The Injins was on our side of the river and di- 
 rectly we come in sight of them. But their scouts 
 had seen us long before and was ready for fight. 
 It was mighty pretty to see them get theirse'fs in 
 order the camp with the women and children 
 guarded, and skirmishers ahead. It was all done 
 so quick and fine that in a minute the warriors was 
 stripped for battle. 
 
 Dad left Eagle break into a run, yelling, "Here 
 we go, boys!" Alex fired his rifle; and we all did, 
 waving them over our heads after they was empty 
 and yelling like all get out. 
 
 Then a gun went off among the Injins. I saw 
 the puff of smoke before I heered the report. Sev- 
 eral braves rode out to meet us. The rest stopped 
 and waited. Directly the braves rode close enough 
 to recognize Mac. Cracky ! but they was glad to see 
 him. In less than two minutes we was in the mid- 
 dle of a passel of more'n two hundred warriors, all 
 jolly and wanting to be friendly. 
 
 The Chief singled out Dad right away and they 
 begun to talk in the sign language. Dad's hair, 
 sprinkled with gray like it was, marked him as a 
 big man with the Injins. They respect gray hair 
 more than we do. They hold that Manitou allows 
 only good men to grow gray and that gray hair is a 
 mark of His special favor. Dad could talk as fast 
 as the Chief. They was too many for me; but I 
 watched them right close, I tell you. I wished Mac 
 had stayed by me, but he'd found his family and 
 was lost in the crowd. I didn't get all the Chief 
 and Dad said, but I did understand the most of it. 
 Dad told the Chief that we were at war with the 
 Blackfeet; that they was bad people; that their 
 hearts was bad. He said that if we stole any of 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 167 
 
 their bosses the Crees could have them as well as 
 all the scalps we took. He invited the Chief to a 
 big feast the next night and told him to bring his 
 warriors with him. "There are many buffalo near 
 our stockade," said Dad. "It would be well if you 
 camped near us until spring comes. I have fin- 
 ished." 
 
 "We do not want war," begun the Chief, "but if 
 the Blackfeet come we will fight them." He said 
 they were always his enemies and that Dad was 
 right their hearts was bad. He said he would 
 camp near us as long as there was meat handy and 
 that he would come to the feast with his headmen 
 and warriors. 
 
 Cracky! but I was tickled. I begun to look for 
 Mac and Red Robe's daughter, but I didn't see 
 either of them. I even rode out of the crowd and 
 moved about by myse'f; but there was so many 
 travois and hosses and people all mixed up that I 
 didn't have time to find them before we started 
 back for the stockade, with twenty young Crees. 
 They was a mighty clean-looking lot, tall and thin 
 mostly, and lively as kittens, but careful not to 
 seem careless or unlike the older warriors. Some 
 wore weasel-skins braided in their hair and one or 
 two was painted, but mostly they wore good-looking 
 shirts and leggings like our own. Dad didn't come 
 along but stayed with the Chief. And Mac hadn't 
 turned up; so I had to go without even seeing the 
 girl, though I'd seen Red Robe while Dad and the 
 Chief was talking. 
 
 Before sundown the smoke from more than a 
 hundred lodges was perfuming the air down by the 
 river. All the hosses, the Crees' and ours was out 
 under double guard ; and everybody felt good again. 
 I can't never forget that night. I was leaning 
 
168 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 against the open gate of the stockade looking at the 
 Injin camp. Dad took a place beside me. The moon 
 was full and her light silvered the lodges so that 
 the shadows of the naked cottonwood limbs that 
 fell on them shimmered and sparkled, like. At first 
 there was fires in every lodge fires that showed 
 through like reddish-yellow lanthorns. But one by 
 one they went out till mighty nigh all was dark 
 inside. The rippling of the Marias waters came 
 loud, then soft, as the breeze strengthened or les- 
 sened, carrying the sound to us and away again. I 
 fell to wondering which was Red Robe's lodge, and 
 couldn't he'p picking the biggest, whitest one in the 
 camp for the home of the girl I'd seen in the store. 
 Now I could get to see her again and know her 
 even talk to her some in her own language. Mac 
 would take me to visit her in the lodge. Not even 
 a dog was stirring in the big camp. There wa'n't a 
 sound by the river. 
 
 "They shore do look good, don't they son?" 
 
 I reckon I jumped. I had forgot Dad, altogether, 
 "Yes," I said, "they look awful good. I'm glad 1 
 can talk Cree some." 
 
 "I reckon you be," he chuckled. "We'll give them 
 Blackfeet all they want now, son if they come. 
 I 'most wish they would come," he sighed ; "that is, 
 if they fetch their friends along with 'em. We'll 
 hev to make that feast tomorrow, an' it will mighty 
 nigh clean us out; but if our friends didn't do it, 
 the Blackfeet would, I reckon." He moved away. 
 "I'm goin' to turn in, son," he said. 
 
 The moon climbed higher, and queer shadows 
 crept out from the lodges to hide in the brush along 
 the river as the silver light brightened above the 
 camp. The breeze had died down to nothing and 
 the air was so sharp it stung my ears. The shad- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 169 
 
 ows of the cottonwoods fell in black streaks across 
 the water, and upon thin ice that was forming nigh 
 the shore. A big horned owl turned loose over the 
 river. His deep voice roused the echoes and in the 
 thin frosty air was fearful loud. Whoo-oo, who, 
 who! Cracky! if that camp wa'n't a spooky place, 
 I'm a nigger. 
 
 I was chilled through and closing the gate, I went 
 to the camp to get warm. Dad was fixing to mould 
 some bullets. He hadn't gone to bed. Nobody had. 
 "We'll cache a little of our stock of jimcracks an' 
 spread the rest," he was saying when I entered. 
 "At daylight we kin git in that meat an' we'll make 
 as big a showin' as we kin. If we git into it an' 
 I reckon we will we won't git no trade with the 
 Blackf eet noway ; so all we kin look f er is trade with 
 our friends the Crees, after they've hunted an' trap- 
 ped a spell." He put his ladle into the fire and cut 
 a bar of lead into pieces with his hatchet. "What a 
 tea-party we'll give them Blackfeet," he laughed. 
 "They'll wait f er a storm likely, an' it'll be a day- 
 light affair, I cal'late. But they'll buy in on a mess, 
 them fellers will, for the Crees is good fighters." 
 
 He dropped the lead into the hot ladle. It sunk, 
 melted, almost at once. Then he begun to mould 
 round balls with a quickness I'd never seen before. 
 "This here old world must smell awful to a good 
 dog," he says, as the bright shiny bullets rolled 
 about him. 
 
 "Why, Dad?" I says. 
 
 "Oh, I was jest thinkin' of the hidden ways of 
 men," he sighed. "Mostly I was thinkin' of them 
 three with white skins who come to us here in the 
 wilderness, et our meat, laughed with us, even shook 
 us by the hand at partin'. They wished us luck 
 with their lips, but while their tongues was formin' 
 
170 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 the words they was intendin' to deal us a card from 
 the bottom of a filthy deck. Yes, son, I bet a good 
 dog smells a heap an* wonders a lot Shoo!*' he'd 
 burned his hand with the mould. 
 
 At last, setting the hot ladle away, he rolled the 
 bright bullets into a robe, and turning, asked, "Alex, 
 what did ye ever do with that strawberry roan hoss 
 ye hed last year?" 
 
 "Sold him to Andy Gray," says Alex. 
 
 "Git the money?" Dad's eyes twinkled merry, 
 and I was glad, someway, he'd changed the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 "No. Got his note though." I could see Alex 
 didn't want to talk about it. But Dad pretended 
 he didn't notice it. 
 
 "Once," he said, "Smith Terry sold Andy Gray a 
 yoke of cattle fer fifty beaver skins. Andy paid 
 five hides down; an' a year later Smith heered 
 where he was livin' an' rode over to see him. He 
 was aimin' to git the rest of them skins, fer beaver 
 was high that spring. Andy had got himse'f a 
 squaw an* hed settled down nigh to a spring of 
 water, 'bout forty miles from a beaver slide. He 
 knowed what Smith hed come fer, though, an' ad- 
 mitted the debt like a man. He says, 'Smith,' he 
 says, 'I ain't ketched a beaver in a hell of a while. 
 Don't see no sign neither, lately. But I'll pay ye 
 them other forty-five hides if it takes me the rest 
 of my life to trap 'em.' An' it will take him full 
 that long, most likely. I'd as lief hev a mortgage 
 on a band of antelope as Andy Gray's note. That 
 was a good hoss, that roan." 
 
 The fire was making a strange noise. Singing, 
 Dad called it. "It's fixin' fer a storm, son," he 
 said. "An' that will jest suit them Blackfeet. I'm 
 goin' to turn in." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Dad's snoring pestered me that night. I couldn't 
 go to sleep. Near midnight clouds covered the 
 stars I'd been watching through the smoke-hole and 
 a wind come up and shook the lodge. It was grow- 
 ing colder, too, and I tucked my blanket closer about 
 me; but I couldn't go to sleep. I thought of the 
 Injin camp and the moonlit lodges and Red Robe's 
 daughter for hours. And twice above the wind I 
 heered the voice of the horned owl over the river. 
 
 The morning broke with a sky full of running 
 clouds and a cold wind that cut like all get out. 
 While I was building a fire in the lodge Mac come 
 in from the Injin camp; and after breakfast Bill 
 went out with Jake and Alex to fetch in the meat. 
 But the wolves had got it, and they had to kill more ; 
 so it was late in the afternoon when they come in 
 with it. 
 
 Mac and I he'ped Dad get things ready for the 
 feast, and spent nigh all the morning cutting up 
 meat and spreading what we had, including more 
 than half a keg of molasses and some sugar. I 
 hated to see it go. But we didn't have much be- 
 sides meat to spread, noway. 
 
 It was nigh noon when Dad says, "Son, you an' 
 Mac best go down to the village an' rustle up some 
 kittles. It'll take a-plenty I cal'late." 
 
 I was glad to go. Mac would call at the lodges 
 and ask fer kettles, I thought. I'd see Red Robe's 
 girl. 
 
 But Mac didn't do that. He straddled a hoss and 
 
 171 
 
172 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 rode about the village calling for kettles to use at 
 the feast, and the women brought them and put 
 them in a pile and went away. I never saw so 
 many kettles before. There was big ones and little 
 ones, and all of them made of brass. Mac begun 
 to pick out the biggest ones; and I was looking for 
 the girl and wondering if her mother had fetched a 
 kettle already. 
 
 My eyes lit on a little hoss staked in front of a 
 lodge nearby. Both his ears was cut off, or froze 
 off, making him look wild and curious. He was 
 only half -broke and ornery as all get out and snorty. 
 All of a sudden while I was looking at him, the wind 
 blew a wolf -skin from a willow bush smack against 
 his heels. He whistled like a white-tail buck deer 
 and tore away with the wolf -skin right after him, 
 lickety-split. Suddenly he turned sharp around a 
 big painted lodge and the stake he was dragging 
 ketched under the lodge-skin. It ripped and come 
 down, like a passel of poles in a big bag. A child 
 screamed, muffled, like, and smoke and a whirling 
 blur of white ashes hid the pile. Mac and I started 
 to run towards the wreck. An Injin, coiling his lar- 
 iat, dashed past us on the trail of the runaway hoss, 
 his heels drumming a tattoo on his pony's sides. 
 Lodge-doors raised and heads was thrust out, some- 
 times more than one to a door; and there was a 
 heap of laughing and banter back and forth. Some 
 women hurried down towards the overturned lodge 
 to he'p. But we got there ahead of them. 
 
 Two women was standing by it with flecks of 
 feathery-white ashes in their black hair. There 
 was four small children clinging to the older wo- 
 man's dress, but she wa'n't noticing them. She 
 was telling all the world what she thought of hoss- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 173 
 
 creation, in a shrill voice. The other was laughing 
 fit to kill herse'f, clutching a shiny brass kettle 
 under her arm; but when she turned her face to- 
 wards us, I felt like I'd been ketched at some ornery 
 trick. It was her Red Robe's daughter. 
 
 The laugh went out of her eyes quicker'n scat. 
 She handed the kettle to Mac, and bending over, 
 begun to pull the ground pegs that held the lodge- 
 skin down, as though there wa'n't a second to lose. 
 I'd never seen a face change so quick. When she 
 handed Mac the kettle there was a startled, half- 
 frightened, look in her eyes, distrustful, like, that 
 made me feel the stockade was the place for me. 
 But I stooped and ketched hold of a peg and pulled 
 it. "I will he'p you," I said in Cree. 
 
 She flashed a glance out of the corner of her eye, 
 and one big braid of her hair slipping over her 
 shoulder to the ground, she ketched it up and tossed 
 it back. We both reached for the same peg and our 
 hands touched. She pulled hers away like she was 
 bit. Mac laughed, and she run to the nearest lodge 
 and disappeared. 
 
 There was plenty of other he'p now, and Mac and 
 I went back to the pile of kettles. 
 
 "That's her, Mac," I says. "What's her name? 
 Red Robe's girl, I mean." 
 
 "His nam' Bluebird, dat wan. Ca-skee-tah-coo- 
 pe-asis. You lak dat gal? Hee's dam good gal, 
 Bluebird, you bat !" 
 
 "Yes, I like her, Mac," I says. "But she's afraid 
 of me. Let's us visit Red Robe's lodge sometime 
 tonight, mebby?" 
 
 "Mebby," he says, stringing a lot of kettlebails 
 on his arms. "Mebby Blackfeet, she's comin' to- 
 night mebby no." 
 
174 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "How old is she, Mac?" I asked, loading myse'f 
 up with kettles. 
 
 "HI don't know, me. Mebby eighteen snow is 
 gone now; bout dat. Hee's dam good gal, Blue- 
 bird." 
 
 I was sorry the feast was to be that night. I 
 wanted to see Bluebird by her own fire. I was glad 
 her father's lodge was painted, proving that Red 
 Robe was a medicine-man, or a man of importance, 
 in the Cree tribe. I would pay him a visit as soon 
 as I could. I made up my mind to that. 
 
 The feast was ready before dark, and Dad spread 
 mighty nigh all the extras we had. But we didn't 
 have much besides meat. Everybody and every- 
 thing on the plains lived on meat, except the brutes 
 we lived on, ourse'fs. They and the beaver ate no 
 meat; but all the rest was killers like ourse'fs. I 
 hated to see the molasses go. There was nigh half 
 a keg of it; but there wa'n't a smidgen left after 
 that night, nor any sugar. 
 
 "Well," said Dad, at sundown, "the trap is set. 
 Fetch 'em on, Mac." 
 
 Mac got on a hoss and rode down through the 
 village singing out our invitation to come to the 
 feast. He didn't forget to tell how good and great 
 we was, and I thought he went pretty far in his 
 praises, but that is their way. 
 
 Directly they commenced to come in and the 
 stockade to fill up. They sat on both sides of the 
 long fire where about seventy-five steaming kettles 
 was hanging or setting on coals on its edge, sending 
 up the smell of fat buffalo meat. They was all 
 dressed up, and some of the clothes and ornaments 
 they wore was beautiful to look at. You wouldn't 
 believe what they can do with porcupine quills and 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 175 
 
 the quills of bird-feathers. Their bullet pouches 
 looked too fine for use and their head-dresses, made 
 mostly of eagle feathers young birds, at that, 
 which show a lot of white on them was a sight in 
 the firelight. There was a heap of finery there and 
 I knowed it took a lot of work to make it. Not 
 many things was alike. Nobody copied his neigh- 
 bor, but had, or tried to have, a rig of his own ; and 
 some of the designs in the quill work was too won- 
 derful for me to describe. I just set down and 
 looked at them. And when it got darker they 
 looked prettier. 
 
 Dad made a little talk, and then we set out the 
 kettles and they went at it. Dad was jolly and 
 moving a kettle here and there, went on talking in 
 English. "A herd of b'iled buffalo would last this 
 outfit about as long as a fried hummin'-bird would 
 feed a pack o* hounds," he says, and sat down by 
 the Chief. 
 
 How they slicked up the kettles! In no time at 
 all they was empty and every drop of syrup gone. 
 After which the smoking commenced, and the 
 speech-making. 
 
 Dad presented the Chief with a whole keg of 
 powder, some flints, and a quart of bullets. Cracky ! 
 but that pleased the Injins. The Chief called 
 twenty braves by name and when they rose and 
 stood before him, he counted out a handful of bul- 
 lets for each, besides filling a lot of empty powder- 
 horns from the keg of powder Dad had given him. 
 I never saw more happiness over a present than 
 over that powder and lead. 
 
 And the Chief didn't forget his men who was 
 with the pony-herd, but made a speech asking us to 
 remember their service while we was feasting, to 
 
176 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 save meat for them. Dad said it would be done, 
 and Bill put ten kettles of meat on the fire to boil 
 against their coming. 
 
 We was sparing with our tobacco, but at the end 
 Dad give the Chief a present of nigh two pounds. 
 The Chief divided it among his headmen, and they 
 in turn whacked up with others. Nobody held out 
 or was stingy or mean. Everybody got part of the 
 presents; except the blankets, and a share in them 
 wa'n't expected. 
 
 It was fixing to storm by the time they left, tak- 
 ing with them the empty kettles. I was glad when 
 we'd shut the stockade gate. From there I could 
 see the fires shining through the lodges among the 
 trees; and in less than ten minutes after our com- 
 pany had left us, a drum was beating in the village 
 and a strange chanted song come to us on the wind. 
 We barred the gate and went back to the lodge. 
 Dad lit his pipe. The firelight flickered on the wall 
 in zig-zag patterns and nobody spoke for a spell. 
 The sound of the drum and the chant down in the 
 village had layed hold of us. Dad was restless and 
 showed it. The wind was growing stronger and 
 sleet was beginning to patter on the lodge-skin. A 
 white weasel stuck his head inside near me, his 
 wicked, beady little eyes blinking at the firelight a 
 moment, before he vanished like a shadow. 
 
 Suddenly Mac stood up and bent forward, his 
 hand behind his ear. "By gar," he said, "jist me, 
 HFrn 'ear de shot, mebby!" 
 
 We sat still, like we was cut out of stone ; but no 
 sound come to us above the howl of the wind. Mac 
 swung his bow and quiver of arrows over his 
 shoulder and sat down again with his rifle across 
 his knees. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 177 
 
 "Hark!" Dad half rose, as the lodge door was 
 jerked up and a painted face looked in, followed by 
 a naked arm that clutched the hair of a bloody 
 scalp. 
 
 "By gar!" whispered Mac, springing up. "Me, 
 HFm 'ear de shot, sure. Dey're 'ere, de Black- 
 feet!" 
 
 The lodge door dropped and the painted face and 
 the scalp vanished. We heered the boom of hoofs 
 on the frozen ground. It was the pony-band of the 
 Crees, together with our own hosses and mules, 
 racing past with the Injin herders behind them. 
 We rushed out and down to the open gate. The 
 village was astir. I could hear men calling to each 
 other, making ready to corral the coming hosses. I 
 couldn't see ten feet before me; and the wind was 
 fearful strong and chill. 
 
 "I cal'late this here is more our rucus than it is 
 the Cree's," says Dad. "They won't come to the 
 stockade to fight, noway. We'd best go down an* 
 make our fight along with 'em." 
 
 So we untied our war-hosses that had been kept 
 inside the stockade since the night we read the 
 Britishers' letter, and went down to the village. 
 
 Every fire was out, but the sleet had froze to the 
 lodges so that they looked like white, sharp-pointed 
 patches standing upright in the dark. Injins was 
 going this way and that and women talking fast 
 and herding their children back into the dark 
 lodges. In two big rope-corrals the hosses was mill- 
 ing and tramping. I could hear the smack of kicks 
 and the click of teeth as stallion met stallion inside 
 the raw-hide ropes, and I reckoned there would be 
 some broken legs among them. It seemed that 
 everybody was doing something roping hosses or 
 
178 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 hurrying in or out of lodges, though with all the 
 stir there wa'n't any confusion or foolishness. The 
 village looked spooky and unreal, with the big, 
 snow-streaked lodges marking the rim of a circle 
 that was plumb broke and blotted out here and 
 there when the wind whirled the snow in the air. 
 Over in the center I made out a big corral or I 
 thought it was a corral full of stock. Just then 
 a man passed us, hurrying along with his hoss. He 
 was headed that way and we followed him. 
 
 What I'd thought was a corral was more than a 
 hundred braves, with the Chief, standing by their 
 hosses, ready to ride in a jiffy. The storm fretted 
 the animals and they pawed and stirred about, ner- 
 vous and wanting to move; but nobody complained 
 or made a fuss. Dad and the Chief begun to talk 
 in signs, and Mac, who was by me, told me what 
 they said, though I knowed most of it myse'f . The 
 Chief said that a strong party of Crees was out on 
 the plains and that scouts was everywhere waiting 
 for the Blackfeet, who he didn't think would fight 
 till daybreak. Now and then a scout come in and 
 went out again. And the hours dragged slower'n 
 all get out. The wind shook the branches of the big 
 trees over the river till they rattled like a passel of 
 dry bones, and my fingers fairly stuck to my rifle- 
 barrel, it was so bitter cold. When the owPs voice 
 come over the river above the storm, Mac edged 
 closer to my side and says in a voice that shook 
 with superstition, "Dat's bad, dat howl. HI don' 
 lak por heem mak' talk jist now, me." He glanced 
 cautious over his shoulder, and still speaking in 
 English, whispered, "Hinjin no lakum howl talk 
 lak dat. She's stop dere long tarn now, dat howl. 
 Damn!" 
 
 He turned his back to me, squatting in the snow, 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 179 
 
 as a drum in Black Bear's lodge commenced beat- 
 ing. To-tum, to-tum, to-tum, wilder'n a wolf, but 
 solemn and deep as a mountain lake, the drumming 
 beats rose and fell with the wind. "Bear, where 
 are you? Hi-yah! Bear, listen. Ho-yah! Bear, 
 great Medicine-man of the Crees; Bear, mighty, 
 great Medicine-man of the Crees ! Hi-yah ! Ho-yah ! 
 Hi-yah!" It was Black Bear's voice, chanting in a 
 high-pitched key, the song of the Bear. Mac bowed 
 his head ; and a stiffening silence fell on us. Cracky ! 
 It was worse'n the owl. I was prickling all over 
 in spite of the cold. 
 
 Suddenly the drum stopped. I could hear the 
 limbs on the trees across the river rattle. Then the 
 old medicine-man begun to pray to the Bear: 
 
 "Lend us your strength, Wah-ki-oose ! Give 
 our warriors power to slay those who made war 
 upon our fathers! Hear me! Hear me! Hear 
 me and be with us !" His voice shook with earnest- 
 ness. The men, crowded together and waiting for 
 the fight, seemed to be held closer by the grip of the 
 prayer. My muscles tightened more. I wanted the 
 row to commence. But the wind shrieked, and like 
 it was jeering at Black Bear's earnestness, the 
 owl's voice come again from over the icy water. 
 
 Mac stood up and with his hand tense on my 
 arm, whispered, "By gar ! dat's bad wan, dat howl ! 
 Somebody is die now. Somebody dat is 'ere wid 
 us, beeg warrior!" But directly his hand slipped 
 from my arm and his body straightened. "Well, 
 can' be help',"he said. "Do de bes' we kin, by gar !" 
 
 I heered a shot, faint and far off. It sounded 
 like a whip-lash. Dad swung onto Eagle and pulled 
 up beside me. "The ball is open, son," he said. 
 "Stay close to me. I might want to say something 
 to you in confidence." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 We was off, crossing the Marias, when the queer- 
 ness of his words come to me. "Ain't you feeling 
 good, Dad?" I asked him. 
 
 "Fit as a fiddle, son; fit as a fiddle. But stay 
 close," he says. 
 
 And I tried to do it. Our party divided and 
 spread out like a fan, all the trappers staying with 
 the Chief's men. We turned slightly towards the 
 north and up the stream, while Left Hand with 
 nigh fifty braves headed in the direction of the 
 Teton. It was breaking day, and the north wind 
 was whipping its way over the plains, sharp as a 
 knife. The snow had nigh quit falling, but the 
 sky was black with running clouds. I heered shots, 
 a passel of them, and saw three riderless hosses go 
 by on the run. We met several wounded warriors 
 two afoot and more on hossback coming back 
 towards the village, but only one or two of our 
 party stopped to he'p them. We rode fast towards 
 what was going on ahead. 
 
 All of a sudden in the dim light, we saw nigh 
 forty Crees, dismounted and fighting like fury, 
 with more'n a hundred Blackfeet riding 'round 
 them and closing in on them at every turn. The 
 Crees was answering every war-whoop of their ene- 
 mies, and whenever a Blackfoot saddle was emp- 
 tied, they jeered and danced about like crazy men. 
 But they was in a mighty bad fix. We lashed our 
 hosses, but they didn't seem to go fast. I felt like 
 it would all be over with before we got there. 
 
 But the Blackfeet was so keen to wipe them out 
 
 180 " 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 181 
 
 that they didn't see us, or if they did, they didn't 
 quit. When we wa'n't two hundred yards away, 
 they charged straight at the Crees and rode them 
 down. But directly we met up with them; and I 
 lost Dad in the rucus. When the Blackfeet turned 
 to run for it, I saw him again. He was riding 
 lickety-split after an Injin on a bay hoss. Left 
 Hand was coming up with his party, and the tables 
 was turned for good. 
 
 Away we went in the face of the wind. I thrilled 
 with the wildness of it. Now and then a Cree 
 would pull up and get down to scalp a Blackf oot or 
 turn out to catch a hoss ; but we crowded them hard, 
 till the Chief called a halt. I'll never forget the 
 light that was in his eyes. It would have made an 
 old dog-wolf look behind him, I tell you ! 
 
 I begun to look for Dad. Where could he be? 
 Bin wa'n't in sight neither. A fear layed hold of 
 me. I'd plumb forget to stay by Dad in the fight 
 never thought of it after the Blackfeet turned to 
 run. I asked this one and that one. But nobody 
 had seen him. They was excited and all talking 
 at once. Left Hand said Dad wa'n't hit or he would 
 have knowed it; but my heart was like lead as we 
 turned back. 
 
 The women met us and took their dead. Nine in 
 all. They gashed theirse'fs with knives and tore 
 their hair from their heads in handfuls and their 
 wailing was dreadful to hear. But the warriors 
 hung many fresh scalps in their lodges and rode 
 about the village singing war-songs; while the wo- 
 men wailed and the dogs howled. The confusion 
 and it was confusion now that the fight was over 
 was enough to unsettle a person. I started for the 
 stockade to find Dad. 
 
182 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 On the way I met him. He was afoot. His face 
 was white and his lips was blue and drawn. I got 
 down off my hoss. A lump come into my throat. 
 "Are you hit, Dad?" I asked, my voice shaking like 
 a scared girl's. 
 
 "Yes, son, they got me. I knowed they would, 
 someway. Let's be jiggin'. Where's Bill?" he says. 
 
 We turned back to the stockade. I hadn't seen 
 any one of our own party, not one, and I went wab- 
 bly all over. "Bill will be along directly, Dad," I 
 says, hoping he'd forget. 
 
 In the lodge he sat down and asked for water. 
 He drank hungrily and then stretched himse'f on a 
 robe. "Better build a little fire, son. An' ye'll find 
 some paper an' a quill an' ink in that black mule's 
 pack by the door," he says. "I'll want ye to put 
 down in writin' some things I want to say." 
 
 If a giant had clutched me by the throat I couldn't 
 have choked up worse. But I kindled a fire and got 
 out the things he wanted. 
 
 "Here we go, son," he says when the fire crackled 
 up good. "Mouth of the Marias River. Put that 
 down, son; and date it December twentieth, or 
 twenty-fifth, eighteen twenty-two." 
 
 I wrote it down at the top of a sheet of paper, 
 looking up when I'd finished. 
 
 "I, Washington Lamkin," he says, "bein' in my 
 right mind an' knowin* I'm about to die " 
 
 "No, Dad !" I says. "Ye can't die ! Where are ye 
 hit, Dad?" 
 
 "Son," he says, "I'm bleedin' inside, bad. An 
 arrow got me in the charge. I pulled it out, but 
 I'm goin' under. Now hush an' put down what I 
 say. bein' about to die got that?" 
 
 "Yes," I says; but my eyes was hot and blurred. 
 I wished Bill and Mac would come in. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 183 
 
 " want to tell all concerned that I shot an' 
 
 killed Caley Byers at Dan's Clearin' " 
 
 "How could that be true ! You think you're he'p- 
 ing me," I says. "Oh, Dad, I didn't shoot Caley " 
 
 "Son, I'm he'pin' the truth by tellin' it. Put it 
 
 down like I say. nigh Coon Creek Crossin' on 
 
 July sixth of this year, eighteen twenty-two. An' 
 thet I done it fer causes well known in Kentucky 
 where both me an' him was born. Knowin' myse'f 
 to be dyin', I'm glad I done it. Amen. 
 
 "This confession will also serve as an order on 
 Shipman and Company of St. Louis to pay over to 
 my pardner, Elijah Mounts, nine-hundred dollars 
 that they are keeping for me, to have as his own. 
 An' know all men that Elijah Mounts, my pardner 
 is to have an' own " 
 
 Mac burst into the lodge. "Bill, she's die hon de 
 Hinjin fight!" he cried. Then, seeing Dad, his 
 voice sunk to a whisper. "Oh, by gar! Me, HI'm 
 bad sorry now, me." 
 
 Dad smiled and raised up on his elbow. For a 
 minute he didn't speak, and his eyes was far-away 
 and rested, like. "We hev been pardners fer more'n 
 ten years," he said softly, "an' we've both gone 
 under together. Amen." 
 
 Then he layed down. "Mac," he said, even, and 
 sure as ever, "git Alex an' Jake as quick's ye kin." 
 
 Mac hurried back to the village, and Dad, as 
 
 though he hadn't been interrupted, went on : " 
 
 the outfit of hosses an' mules an' all goods an' arms 
 belongin' to me an' my ol' pardner, Bill Hanks, him 
 bein* dead without kin. Amen. I'll sign it, son." 
 And he wrote "Washington Lamkin" under what 
 I'd put down. 
 
 "Gi* me another drink of water, son. Best quit 
 
184 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 this life, if ye kin. I never could ; but we're all hell- 
 bent to advise others to do what we cain't do our- 
 se'fs. Son, I saw ye when ye pulled off yer boot to 
 git out the kernel o' co'n that day in Dan's Clearin'. 
 An* agin I saw ye when ye come back with the grist. 
 I was waitin' behind a down-tree to collect a debt 
 from Caley Byers. Caley Byers was a snake that 
 needed killin' ; but he left our parts an' 'twas years 
 afore I located him. Every word that or nigger 
 told about him an* the Sessionses was true, an* Lucy 
 Ann Sessions was blood-kin to me. That fool squir- 
 rel that barked at me made ye cur'ous, an' I was 
 some feered ye'd come over to me. But ye didn't." 
 
 He turned over on his side and was quiet a spell. 
 My mind had took in what he'd said. But it didn't 
 seem to feel it. It seemed like I'd knowed he killed 
 Caley Byers for a hundred years. 
 
 When he spoke again his voice shook a little and 
 wa'n't so strong. "Son," he says, "ye're a boy yit; 
 an' if ye do the thing thet's in yer mind, ye kin 
 never go back to the States. I don't say it's wrong 
 to do it, but society hes made trails thet every- 
 body must f oiler, or the mob will hoot. Custom, in 
 its frills an' furbelows, is a heap like a bell-mare to 
 the mob; an' bogs of cussedness don't keep it from 
 follerin' wherever she leads. The blood of the 
 human race'll mix, but the deer an' the antelope 
 won't cross. When the blood of the whiteman is 
 mixed with thet of the red people, the get is an 
 Injin in most ways ; an' they might as well look f er 
 chiny plates at an Injin feast as charity among the 
 kind of their fathers. We're a bad lot a mighty 
 bad lot, in some ways, son." 
 
 Mac raised the lodge door and come in, with 
 Alex and Jake. "Howdy," said Dad, lifting his 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 185 
 
 hand a little. "Sign this paper, or make yer marks 
 on it, as witnesses, both of ye, Alex an* Jake. An* 
 Mac see thet the boy don't git into bad company. 
 He'll pay ye what I owe ye. 
 
 "Hear me, son?" 
 
 "Yes, Dad," I says; but I couldn't look at him to 
 save me. 
 
 "I want ye to bury me here, but not inside the 
 stockade, boys," he says, after I'd give him another 
 drink, my hands shaking nigh as weak as him. 
 "I don't want no fence around me. I want to lay 
 out where all the wild kind kin walk over me an* 
 around me without suspectin' that an ornery ol' 
 killer is there. Fix me so's the wolves won't scatter 
 my bones, an' ye better put Bill in with me. He was 
 a good pardner ; none better." 
 
 He quit talking sudden and turned over. I took 
 hold of his hand and he pressed mine. "I'm goin' 
 across now, son; goin' under at last. It's gettin' 
 dark, like, an' chill." 
 
 He didn't speak again but let my hand go and 
 folded his arms across his breast and closed his 
 eyes. I couldn't keep the tears back no longer. I 
 knowed he was dead and that his spirit had gone 
 out on the wind to the great wild plains he'd loved 
 so long and well. I covered my head with a buifalo 
 robe and tried to keep back any sounds of sobs, that 
 I knowed was womanlike and weak. Alex and Jake 
 went silent out of the lodge, but Mac spread a 
 blanket over Dad and put a stick on the fire. 
 
 My mind was numb, like when you're half awake, 
 and I didn't care what happened to me. I wouldn't 
 have dodged an arrow to save myse'f . Mac knowed 
 how I felt, I reckon, and didn't talk, but only put 
 sticks on the fire while the daylight got grayer, till 
 it finally faded out. 
 
186 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 The wind wa'n't nigh so strong as it had been. 
 It had gone down some with the sun, so that the 
 lodge-poles didn't strain and creak any more; but 
 the women was still wailing awful and the firelight 
 flickered lonesome on the lodge wall, like it always 
 does when the fire is low. I dreaded the morning 
 more'n anything else. It seemed awful to bury Dad 
 and go away from there. My face was turned to- 
 wards the lodge wall and the fire had burned down 
 pretty low. A prowling Injin dog looking for 
 scraps, poked his cold nose under the lodge-skin 
 and touched my face. Any other time I'd have 
 jumped mighty pert; but it didn't faze me. I set 
 up and turned towards the fire. 
 
 Mac put on another stick. "I will go now, but I 
 will soon come back," he said in Cree. 
 
 The lodge-door lifted and fell behind him and I 
 turned my back to the fire and the form under the 
 blanket and layed down again to think. 
 
 What ought I to do? Dad was dead, and Bill. I 
 was alone again and in a worse fix than ever. Dad 
 had been more like a father to me than Uncle Eldin, 
 even, and I'd have died for him; but he was gone. 
 I hated the* plains the storms and the heat of sum- 
 mer on the treeless waste. I'd leave it and go back. 
 It was no place for a whiteman the great plains, 
 hard and merciless and ugly. I had thought I 
 loved them; but now I knowed it was only Dad I 
 had loved. He was the plains to me all that was 
 worth while and good about them. And now he was 
 gone, it seemed like more than half of me was dead 
 and like I hadn't any more place on the plains. I 
 wa'n't like Eagle who had lost his place but directly 
 would become the servant of another man. There 
 wouldn't be another man for me to foller and to 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 187 
 
 make me the man I'd thought I was. I hated the 
 plains and blamed them. 
 
 I begun to think of the only other place I'd 
 knowed, the clearing on Coon Creek. I thought of 
 the peace and quiet there, forgetting how poor we 
 was and remembering the neighbors, one after an- 
 other. Then I thought of Caley Byers and how it 
 was Dad that killed him. I reckoned murder did 
 out ; but like he'd said, all killings wa'n't murders. 
 
 I tried to forget the plains and promised myse'f 
 to leave them. But the wailing cries of the women 
 down by the river wouldn't let me forget. They 
 belonged to the plains was like them, savage and 
 ungodly. 
 
 I wouldn't have anything more to do with Red 
 Robe's daughter. I'd go back. I'd start right 
 away, too. I made up my mind to that. I would 
 buy me a place the old Lacey place on Coon Creek 
 and settle down there where there was peace and 
 people of my own kind and kin. 
 
 That's what I thought; but all the time I was 
 more'n half afraid I wouldn't do it. I'd reason it 
 out over and over again, but every time I come to a 
 decision the same one I felt like something was 
 left plumb out of my calculation. I knowed that 
 love of the plains is a disease, and that Dad had it 
 bad. Mebby I had it, too, and couldn't get away. 
 
 It was snowing hard. The fine flakes fell through 
 the smoke-hole on my cheek and powdered the buf- 
 falo robes. Outside it was growing stiller and 
 colder and the women had nigh quit their crying 
 down by the river. I heered the door raise and fall 
 back and saw a shadow on the lodge wall; but I 
 didn't move till long afterward, when the fire was 
 mighty nigh out and, being chilled, I sat up and put 
 some wood on the coals. 
 
188 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 The dry sticks crackled and blazed up ; and there 
 beside the fire, still steaming in the chill air of the 
 lodge, I saw a brass kettle. I could smell the meat 
 and dried berries that was in it. But I didn't want 
 to eat. I stood up to shake the snow from a robe 
 to spread over me; and on a rawhide right by the 
 door, I saw the outline of a moccasin just the dim 
 lines left by the fine snow that had fallen from a 
 foot when it was set inside. It wasn't all there I 
 mean some of the line was melted; but it was too 
 little to be Mac's. 
 
 I wrapped the buffalo robe around me and sat 
 down. Could it be that Bluebird had come into the 
 lodge and that the shadow I had seen on the lodge 
 wall was hers? It must be. There wa'n't no doubt 
 that the foot-print was hers. I leaned over. It was 
 dimming. The heat of the fire was melting the 
 snow till only a wet outline showed where the toe 
 had been, though the heel was nigh perfect yet. I 
 watched it melt slowly away until it was gone and 
 only a wet spot marked the rawhide where the al- 
 most perfect track had been. I put more wood on 
 the fire and layed down. 
 
 It was good of her to fetch the kettle; mighty 
 good and kind. She must have thought me ornery 
 and impolite not to have said a "howdy" to her. 
 She was a good little woman. Mac had said so, but 
 I could tell it without that. Anybody could have 
 seen it in her face. And she was sweet and pretty 
 and gentle. I fell to planning on talking to her; 
 till I thought of Dad again. And then I felt mean 
 and ornery for thinking of her when he was dead 
 just across the fire. I felt ashamed. I told myself 
 I was a trifling nigger and once my mind got on 
 that trail it pestered me worse'n it had when Joe 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 189 
 
 died. It got so set on showing me up to myse'f that 
 I wa'n't right with Bluebird in my thoughts. And 
 then I got ashamed of it and that throwed in with 
 the other and helped torment me. 
 
 I was right glad when Mac come back, and I said 
 "How" to him. 
 
 "Whose kettle is this?" he said, raising the lid. 
 "Ho ! it is Red Robe's kettle. Bluebird has brought 
 you food, and you have not eaten." He set the ket- 
 tle on the fire. "She will believe that you cared not 
 for her food," he said. "You must eat of the meat 
 and berries." 
 
 "I am not hungry, Little Knife," I answered in 
 Cree. He had spoken in that tongue and seemed to 
 want me to talk it, too. 
 
 "It is well to mourn for the dead, but not as 
 women do. They have named you Pack Mah-hee- 
 can; Lone Wolf; and I, your friend who taught you 
 Cree words, would have you throw off your robe of 
 sorrow, or wear it in the lodge or on the plains 
 when you are alone. It is well to remember forever, 
 but let not your sorrow come between you and a 
 living friend at your own fire. And this is now 
 your fire, Paok Mah-hee-can." He took the kettle 
 from the coals and set it before me. "Eat," he 
 urged, "that when she comes for her father's kettle 
 it will be empty." 
 
 I did eat a little. And when I had finished he 
 emptied the brass kettle into one of our own. 
 
 "That is good," he said, filling and lighting his 
 stone pipe. He offered the stem first to the dark 
 sky, from which the thick snow was falling, and 
 then to the earth, now white with the storm. Then 
 he passed it to me; and I smoked with him there 
 in the lodge with Dad. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 When morning come we hadn't slept. Mac had 
 kept the fire all night and talked when I would 
 answer. My eyes was dry as a powder-horn, and 
 burned from looking into the fire. The longer I 
 went without talking to Mac the harder it seemed 
 to find a word to say. The wind had gone alto- 
 gether, and nigh the dawn even the snow had 
 stopped falling. 
 
 Just as the sunlight touched the tops of the lodge- 
 poles a soft voice called near the door, "Shall the 
 woman come in now?" 
 
 I stood up. "Yes, Bluebird, come," I answered. 
 And Mac put wood on the fire. 
 
 She raised the lodge door, stopping a moment, at 
 the shrill cry of a child, to look backward at the 
 village. Her breath was white in the cold air and 
 her cheeks, when she turned towards us, rosy with 
 health. "If you will go away for a little while," 
 she said, stepping in like a shadow, "I will try to 
 make your lodge a better place." She looked down 
 at the fire and stooped to warm her shapely hands. 
 
 "Come." Mac took me by the hand, ancl to- 
 gether we went outside. 
 
 The plains was an endless stretch of blinding 
 white. Sparkling frost-crystals fell like showers of 
 diamonds, and mighty nigh straight down out of 
 the blue sky. The keen air cut and stung, and 
 there wa'n't a track in the snow any place, except 
 Bluebird's, leading up from the village below the 
 stockade. The snow was a foot deep and drifted 
 some. 
 
 190 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 191 
 
 Mac started up the Marias and I followed, not 
 caring where we went, until he stopped on top of a 
 high knoll. "Look, Lone Wolf," he said, pointing 
 down to the stockade and the Injin village. 
 
 I could see the smoke from our lodge and the 
 lodges of the big camp below it, white in the cold 
 air. 
 
 "This is good," he said. "A brave warrior will 
 rest well here. From this spot he can see the buf- 
 falo and the antelope. And the rivers are nearby 
 so that in the heat of summer hei can always see the 
 green leaves rustle in the breeze that comes at sun- 
 down and with dawn. Is it not a good place for our 
 friends?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," I told him. But the snow was cold and I 
 couldn't like the place. 
 
 "Then when the sun turns his face toward the 
 South we will bury our friends here." 
 
 I shivered. He begun to scrape away the light 
 snow with his feet, and I he'ped him. "We had 
 better move your lodge to-night," he said, as we 
 worked at the snow. "It is not well to be alone in 
 the stockade. We will move your camp to the village. 
 Jake and Alex and Tom and Sandy are already 
 there." 
 
 Then he told me some news that made me feel 
 lonlier'n ever. "They will not wait for spring," he 
 says, "but in spite of the danger of bad storms and 
 Blackfeet, they are going to try to make their way 
 back to the Post at the mouth of the Yellowstone." 
 
 I stopped scraping snow. Mac knowed what had 
 come to my mind. "It is foolish to go now," he 
 said. "We should think much before we go with 
 them. It is not long to wait till spring will be here. 
 
192 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Then there will be no bad storms. Do not decide 
 until tomorrow." 
 
 I didn't answer him. We had cleared away 
 enough ground. "We shall have to build a fire 
 here," he said. "The ground is frozen, but not 
 deeply. I will have the women build the fire. We 
 can now go back to the lodge." 
 
 Bluebird had straightened things inside and had 
 a fire burning bright. The ashes and mess about 
 the fire was gone, and the bed-rolls tidied up nice 
 and tight. 
 
 "Now you must eat," she said to me gently. "You 
 did not eat much of the food last night, but I have 
 prepared more. See, I have made tea from your 
 store." And she set out the cups before Mac and 
 me, just two of them. 
 
 "You will eat with us?" I asked her, hoping she 
 would. 
 
 "Would you have me eat?" she smiled shyly; and 
 her voice was like I'd heered it in the store, soft and 
 kind. 
 
 "Yes," I told her, folding a robe between Mac and 
 me. 
 
 "Then I shall," she said, and poured out three 
 cups of tea. 
 
 But that ended our talk, or mighty nigh it. As 
 soon as the tea was poured and she'd sat down silent 
 between us, I couldn't find a word to say to her or 
 to Mac. She must have thought I was cross, I 
 reckon; and it was getting worse, when Mac said, 
 "Bluebirds are good in lodges or near villages. Ask 
 her to tell you what her people say of bluebirds." 
 
 "I will ask her some time," I said, looking across 
 the fire at the blanket that covered Dad. 
 
 "And some time I may tell you," she smiled. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 193 
 
 She'd finished her tea and stood up in that swift, 
 still way that is like a shadow. "I am going to my 
 father's lodge now," she said. 
 
 The Crees was kind and he'ped us that day; so 
 when night come the grave on the knoll held the 
 old pardners side by side. I feel sure Dad would 
 have picked the place himse'f, if he could; for if 
 the dead can see, him and Bill can watch the buffalo 
 herds and the passing of war-parties, till the Injins 
 shall quit their fighting forever. 
 
 When we come back from the knoll the lodge had 
 been moved to the village, and Mac and Jake and 
 Alex and Tom and Sandy all walked with me to 
 light a fire in it there. It was pitched between 
 Mac's lodge and Red Robe's and all the goods had 
 been piled inside so that there wa'n't much room 
 left to sit or move about. 
 
 As soon as the fire was going good Alex says: 
 "Me an' Jake is through here. We're pullin' out for 
 the Post at the mouth of the Yellerstone. Ye're wel- 
 come to come along with us; but if ye stay here 
 we'll trade what goods we've got fer yer beaver 
 skins. Then ye kin trade the goods for more to- 
 wards spring." 
 
 "That is good," said Mac to me in Cree. "I will 
 help you trade." 
 
 I wanted to go. I had made up my mind to go. 
 But now, when the chance come, I didn't grab it. 
 "I reckon I'll stay till spring," I said; but I didn't 
 half mean it. 
 
 "Good," says Alex. "I'd like to trade fer 
 Eagle." 
 
 "No, sir !" I says. "Eagle ain't for sale nor Dad's 
 rifle, at no price. And I'll leave the other trading 
 to Mac." I couldn't care much what bargain was 
 
194 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 made; and I didn't know what made me decide to 
 stay. But Mac was tickled a-plenty. 
 
 By dark they had made a bargain and I gave 
 Alex and Jake an order on Shipman and Company 
 for two hundred dollars of the money Dad had left 
 me, wondering if they'd pay it. But Alex wa'n't 
 worried, nor Jake, so I made the order and it was 
 settled. 
 
 I mighty nigh weakened when at daylight Alex 
 and Jake pulled out with Tom and Sandy. It wa'n't 
 so cold as it had been, and I reckoned it would warm 
 up more by noon. They didn't have any packs but 
 beaver-skins, so the hosses waVt loaded heavy and 
 could travel fast. I stood and watched them start 
 away down the Missouri; and when I thought that 
 there wa'n't another whiteman between the Post 
 and the mouth of the Marias, I mighty nigh saddled 
 up and went with them. But I held onto myse'f 
 now I'd decided to stay and when they had got out 
 of sight, went back into the lodge. 
 
 My thoughts was busy but not good. I'd wanted 
 so bad to come to the plains. Now I was far into 
 the Injin country, the last of my outfit. Dad and 
 Bill and Joe was all dead, every one of them killed. 
 I could see I had a chance to trade and make money, 
 and if I did, I'd go back and he'p Aunt Lib. I'd 
 never come to the plains again, once I got to civil- 
 ization. Aunt Lib was right about the plains, I 
 reckoned. But mostly things have to be proved to 
 you before you'll believe them. 
 
 By and by the sun come up and shone through 
 the smoke-hole. I wondered how far Alex and Jake 
 had got by now, and if the snow was deeper to- 
 wards the Yellowstone. Mac had ridden out with 
 Jake and Alex to see them off, and I thought I 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 195 
 
 heered him come back. Some women was putting 
 up a lodge back of mine, and after a spell I heered 
 Mac's voice talking to them. They was mighty 
 busy at something for quite a stretch; after which 
 Mac called, "Lone Wolf, come to your trading post !" 
 
 I got up and went outside. There was a fine new 
 lodge pitched right back of mine. Mac was holding 
 up its door. "Go in," he said, proudly. "It's your 
 trading lodge. I bought it with some goods that 
 belonged to you." 
 
 So I went inside with him. It was piled with 
 trade-goods all of Alex's and Jake's packs, and 
 some that had been Dad's. "You'll be rich now," 
 said Mac, kindling a fire in the new lodge. 
 
 I thought how kind he had been, and how honest. 
 "It is half yours," I said. "You are my partner, 
 Little Knife. Let us trade the goods and go away 
 from here as quick as we can. I do not like this 
 country." 
 
 He spread his hands before the new-made fire. 
 They was thin hands, and clever. "Do not say that, 
 Lone Wolf," he said, as though what I'd spoke about 
 the plains had hurt him. "Bad luck is everywhere, 
 my friend," he added in a lower voice, "and only 
 waits to make war on men. It is in St. Louis, and 
 on the plains, the same. But whatever you will do 
 was to be done. You cannot change much of life, 
 though it is not well for us to believe that so strong- 
 ly as to let our canoes drift and forget the paddles." 
 He put more wood on the fire, making it crackle 
 cheerful. "You have made me happy," he smiled, 
 "for soon I shall be able to buy fine presents for my 
 woman and my children. Let us not trade now, nor 
 move. It is not wise to think of either. Let us wait 
 until the Crees have many fine robes and beaver 
 
196 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 skins. Then we will trade, and when the winter 
 has passed, go down to St. Louis with our fur." 
 
 He stood up and walked around looking at the 
 packs of trade-goods. He moved a bale here and 
 there and begun singing a Cree song as he moved 
 about; until I caught some of his interest. He was 
 quick to see it, and commenced talking of trade and 
 how many robes this and that would fetch, until I 
 found myse'f figuring on what my share would be. 
 I felt ashamed of it. It was profiting by an awful 
 thing; and it pestered me like it had when, I let 
 thoughts of Bluebird come between me and Dad. 
 
 Mac kept talking and speculating till late in the 
 day. I thought how nobody had laid a hand on the 
 goods, unless they had been asked to he'p, and no 
 thief had pilfered. I was mighty afraid folks at 
 the Crossing wouldn't have been so careful of other 
 folks' truck; but I was thinking mostly of Jeff 
 Hawkins, I reckon. 
 
 It was getting dusk when Mac broiled a buffalo 
 steak on the coals ; and we ate and smoked together 
 till all the fires was out in the other lodges. The 
 hunters had been out all day, and all through the 
 early evening there had been feasting in the village ; 
 but Mac stayed with me, and when at last I un- 
 rolled my bed, he went to sleep across the fire. 
 
 It was a still night and cold. I could see Mac's 
 breath, white in the chill air, over the dying fire. 
 I didn't sleep for hours. I thought of Dad and Bill, 
 and Alex and Jake. I wondered if the snow got 
 deeper towards the Yellowstone. Then when I 
 thought of the cold and the snow they fetched Dad 
 back to my mind to stay, and I couldn't lay still. I 
 built up the fire, and when Mac turned his back to 
 the blaze, I lit my pipe though I knowed I didn't 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 197 
 
 want to smoke. The stillness was heavy, like, and 
 layed hold of me till I was skittish. Mac's breath- 
 ing, so regular it seemed to belong to the loneliness 
 that was pestering, was the only sound that and 
 the pop of cottonwood trees when the frost stabbed 
 them deep. I run back to where I'd first met up 
 with Dad, and then trailed along with him to the 
 minute he'd told me of killing Caley Byers and 
 after; clean to the grave on the knoll. It 'peared 
 like running off, and leaving him to go away; but 
 I knowed I'd never like the plains any more, though 
 I'd wait a spell. 
 
 At last I layed down, and when I turned over, I 
 heered the guard go out to relieve the men with the 
 stock; and that made me think of Bluebird for a 
 spell. But I didn't hear the men come in, nor I 
 didn't hear anything more until Mac kindled the 
 fire in the morning. 
 
 The water in the camp-kettle was froze hard as 
 a rock, and the meat, too. The sun come up in a 
 frost-mist, and it took the new fire quite a spell to 
 melt away the white, feathery crystals sticking to 
 the lodge-poles. I turned over, and Mac begun to 
 sing. "It's a fine morning, Lone Wolf," he said, 
 and went out of the lodge for fresh water. 
 
 I followed him out, and down to the river where 
 he was chopping a hole in the ice. 
 
 Several women was along the bank with kettles, 
 everybody cheerful and glad of the sun. Thin tails 
 of blue smoke was coming from the tops of more 
 than a hundred lodges, going nigh straight up in the 
 winter air till they was plumb lost in the shower 
 of frost crystals that fell to meet and hide them. 
 The ice on the river clugged and plunked, queer- 
 like, and the noises of its cracking went up and 
 
198 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 down the stream like echoes do in the bad-lands. 
 There was a passel of trails in the snow, mostly 
 leading to water-holes chopped in the ice; and I 
 looked to see her, but I wa'n't lucky. Red Robe's 
 lodge was close to mine, but there wa'n't a soul in 
 sight around it. Smoke was coming out of it, 
 though, like all the rest, so I knowed they was up 
 and stirring inside; and I reckoned they'd been 
 after water, likely. 
 
 Everybody said "how" nice and friendly on the 
 way back and some young men who was going out 
 to run buffalo asked us to take a hand with them; 
 but Mac said we was going after antelope a little 
 later on. 
 
 After breakfast we got hosses and set out along 
 the edge of the river breaks. The light was mighty 
 bright and made me blink ; but it wa'n't long before 
 we had what antelope we needed and started back. 
 A breeze had come up and was brushing the light 
 snow off the quaking asps and cottonwoods sending 
 it away in little white swirls whenever it freshened, 
 though there wa'n't much of it, noway. The wind 
 had blowed hard during the storm and there had 
 been more or less until the night before, when it 
 had died down and some fresh snow had fallen; so 
 that it wa'n't long till the limbs was plumb bare 
 again. 
 
 We found the snow was all tracked up in and 
 around the village when we got back. Women was 
 coming in with packs of wood, and off on the plains 
 I could see some more with travois loaded with 
 meat. We struck the river a little above the village, 
 and just as we turned in between two lodges I saw 
 Bluebird. She was coming from the river with 
 water. I got down and led my hoss to meet her. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 199 
 
 She saw me and turned into another trail ; but right 
 away I noticed it would lead her wrong; and she 
 saw it, too, for directly she turned back, and we 
 met where the trail forked. 
 
 "I have hoped to see you," I said, holding out my 
 hand. 
 
 She looked down at the snow, and the kettle of 
 water she was packing begun to swing back and 
 forth, its bottom brushing a dead weed that stuck 
 up by the trail. She didn't offer to take my hand, 
 and I couldn't think of anything to say. We just 
 stood there, till I felt ashamed of pestering her. 
 "Will you not tell your father that I would be glad 
 if he would bring you to call at my lodge?" I finally 
 said, and stepped aside so that she could pass. "I 
 would give him and you presents to show my grati- 
 tude for your kindness." 
 
 She slipped by me, and without raising her eyes 
 from the trail, said, "I will tell your words to my 
 father." Then she was gone. 
 
 I stood there a minute, thinking. Her head had 
 been bent towards the snow, but turned a little to 
 one side like she didn't want me to see the cheek 
 that was next to me. The thin, bright red line 
 marking the straight part in her black hair was 
 fresh-made and looked right pretty. And she was 
 such a little woman and spoke so soft though I'd 
 heered every word and know them yet. I wondered 
 again how she had made me hear them. She hadn't 
 spoken louder'n a whisper, and yet there wa'n't 
 anything like whispering about her voice nothing 
 that whispered words make you think of conniv- 
 ing, or the like. Every word was clear-sounding 
 and sweet; yet after hearing them, you'd wonder 
 how you did it, even after you knowed you had. I 
 
200 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 thought that I'd give a heap to hear her talk for a 
 whole hour without stopping. 
 
 My hoss whinned loud and pulled sudden on the 
 rope. He was anxious to be with the herd. So I 
 led him to my lodge and unloaded him. Mac's ante- 
 lope was by the door, and a fire was already burn- 
 ing inside. I turned the pony loose and lifted the 
 door. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 The afternoon was short. At dusk Mac went to 
 his own lodge to spend the night with his family. 
 I sat up till late thinking, and I got to fussing in 
 my mind over things that had happened, till I didn't 
 want to go to bed. The fire burned low more than 
 half the time, and I didn't have gumption enough to 
 feed it. It was snowing again. Flakes come down 
 through the smoke-hole whenever the fire was low 
 enough to let them in. The camp noises settled 
 down to nothing and folks was asleep, all but the 
 guards and the herders with the stock. "A fine 
 life !" I thought. "Any minute the Blackf eet might 
 come, or a blizzard that would drive the buffalo 
 away and leave the Crees without fresh meat." It 
 was no place for a whiteman. I made up my mind 
 to that. 
 
 A dog was gnawing a bone just outside my lodge, 
 and it pestered me. I picked up a stick of wood and 
 got on my knees to creep to the door and drive him 
 off. But I got ashamed and let him stay. He was 
 happy. I wouldn't change it. Directly a wolf 
 howled up the Marias a little piece and the dog 
 stopped gnawing and answered. "That's it," I 
 thought. "You are blood-kin." 
 
 Then I thought of Bluebird. Was she any re- 
 lation to me or my kind? I wished I hadn't asked 
 her to tell her father to call at my lodge. I would 
 persuade Mac to trade for whatever we could get, 
 and try to make the Post at the mouth of the Yel- 
 lowstone. Why was I thinking of Bluebird? I 
 didn't want her. If Red Robe came to my lodge I 
 
 201 
 
202 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 hoped she wouldn't be with him. She had been good 
 to me, but I had an idea Mac had been responsible 
 for her coming to the lodge in the stockade. I 
 knowed it was Mac's doings. She wouldn't have 
 thought of it. But I wanted to even the score with 
 her, nevertheless, so I'd send her a present by her 
 father, if he come. I'd let her see that a whiteman 
 paid his debts, anyhow. I'd go back to Coon Creek 
 and stay there. I'd even go and listen to Joshua 
 Moulds of Sundays, and be glad of the chance. By 
 turns I was angry at Mac, and grateful to him for 
 sending Bluebird with the kettle of meat and ber- 
 ries, that night. For I was sure it was him that 
 did it. I didn't ask him about it then, and I 
 wouldn't do it now. I'd rather have it the way it is 
 in my mind: mostly a guess that could be settled 
 easy. The dog kept gnawing the bone outside, his 
 teeth gritting and grinding and crushing, till it 
 mighty nigh made me drive him off. Once another 
 dog come nigh him and he growled ugly and the 
 other dog went away. His happiness was threat- 
 ened but he defended and kept it. I did wish he'd 
 finish the bone, or else pack it away somewhere and 
 enjoy it alone. 
 
 That was a night such as comes once in a while 
 to most folks. I'd been willing to bet that I hadn't 
 slept an hour ; but I know that I must have, for it 
 was plumb daylight when I built up my fire in the 
 lodge. I was glum yet, and the fresh snow, instead 
 of brightening me up, seemed to deaden what good 
 nature I had. 
 
 I went down to the river, stepping in 'tracks al- 
 ready made by others. When I was coming back I 
 saw Bluebird slip out of her father's lodge with a 
 kettle in her hand. She was going for water, but 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 203 
 
 when she saw me she ducked back into the lodge, 
 letting the door fall shut behind her. "Go it!" I 
 muttered, and felt ornery as all time. 
 
 I washed up, and broiled some meat; and when 
 Mac come in I was in better spirits. But somehow 
 I couldn't open the question of trading and getting 
 away. He was so happy over our prospects that I 
 thought I'd wait a day or two. 
 
 The sun didn't come out and the clouds hung low 
 and looked threatening, though it wa'n't very cold. 
 We slicked up the lodge and was talking, when the 
 door was lifted and Red Robe looked in. 
 
 "How!" he said, and smiled. 
 
 "How, how! hi-ee!" greeted Mac. And I got up 
 and spread a robe. 
 
 Red Robe stepped into the lodge, and behind him 
 was Bluebird. They sat down, and right away 
 Mac lit a pipe and passed it to me. "Dis is your 
 lodge," he said in English. "You'll mak' de smoke 
 wid de Sun and de Earth. Den you'll pass de pipe 
 to heem. When she's troo smoke, you'll spick first 
 an' tell heem you're glad por veesit." 
 
 I did like he told me. When Red Robe had 
 smoked with us I said: "You are welcome in this, 
 my lodge. I am made happy by your coming. Your 
 daughter, Bluebird, was kind to me, and I would 
 show my gratitude by making you presents." 
 
 I went to the packs and got Bill's rifle and a good 
 blanket and give them to him, besides some powder 
 and balls. I never did see such pleasure in a man's 
 face. He was so tickled I was glad even to watch 
 him, and when he thanked me I felt good all over. 
 I reckoned that she was as happy as he was; but 
 when I give her a cup full of beads and two mighty 
 pretty blankets, one red and the other green, for 
 
204 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 herse'f, I wish you could have seen her eyes. 
 Cracky ! But she didn't speak a word just sat still 
 with the blankets beside her and the cup of beads 
 in her hand. 
 
 Red Robe thought that was bad manners, I 
 reckon, for he said to her, "Have you no words? 
 Can you not speak? Are you like the stones that 
 drink the rain and thank not the rain-maker?" He 
 spoke like a man speaks to a child, not ornery or 
 cross. 
 
 She rose to her knees and shot a glance at me. 
 "It is too much to give me," she said. I saw her 
 eyes shine in the firelight, but they wouldn't look at 
 me; they just dusted me with a pleasant look that, 
 like her words, was only enough to do, and nothing 
 left over. 
 
 Right away I remembered my thoughts of the 
 night before and felt ashamed. These was good 
 folks, even though I didn't know their ways. We're 
 apt to get on the wrong trail that way, comparing 
 strangers with ourse'fs, and mebby after we know 
 them well we find out that we hadn't so much to 
 brag about after all. 
 
 Mac lit the pipe again and I watched Red Robe 
 as he offered the stem to the Sun before he smoked, 
 himse'f . You could see that he was a good man. I 
 was sorry when he got up to go ; and when Bluebird 
 bent to pass outside, I says, "Some day will you tell 
 me about the bluebirds? You said you would, 
 didn't you?" 
 
 "I said some day, maybe," she answered. 
 
 "What do you say now, to-day?" I said, low as I 
 could. 
 
 "Maybe, some day," she answered, and I thought 
 there was laughter in her words; quiet laughter 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 205 
 
 that wa'n't intended for anybody but herse'f. I 
 thought of her ducking back into her father's lodge 
 that morning and felt like saying, "Go it," again, 
 but I didn't. 
 
 I was sorry I had said anything about bluebirds 
 didn't care to learn about them, and wouldn't 
 mention them again. I'd talk to Mac about trading 
 and getting out. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 But I didn't do that either. Mac begun to talk 
 about a big buffalo hunt the Crees was planning, 
 and even while he was speaking I heeredi voices 
 singing. 
 
 "What's that?" I asked. 
 
 "The Buffalo song," he answered. "Day after 
 tomorrow they will make a corral and kill much 
 meat." 
 
 We listened. There wa'n't many words to the 
 song; only a tune that was queer, like all their 
 music, and wild as theirse'fs. It swelled up loud 
 a minute and then died down like the winds do, till 
 we couldn't hardly hear it. Suddenly there come a 
 voice speaking in one tone, and the singing stopped 
 altogether. "Black Bear," says Mac. But I could 
 have told it. 
 
 The old man was asking power of the Bear, cun- 
 ning from the Wolf, and speed from the Antelope 
 for the buffalo hunters. 
 
 "He owns a great buffalo-stone," whispered Mac, 
 while the medicine man was talking. 
 
 "What is a buffalo-stone?" I says. 
 
 But he didn't tell me. "She will tell you," he 
 says. "Listen." 
 
 Black Bear was talking fast. He was speaking 
 to the winds now. 
 
 "Oh, North Wind," he said, his voice shaking with 
 earnestness, "wind that we fear, wind that brings 
 the winter and holds it long; hear us, for we are in 
 need. Rest while our people go forth to the herds, 
 that the buffalo may not be warned and run away. 
 
 206 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 207 
 
 Your breath is cold, North wind, but we do not 
 complain, do not grumble against you. Oh, hear 
 us, hear us, hear us!" 
 
 He stopped short, and the singing commenced 
 again, this time with a drum. Then Black Bear's 
 voice rose again, speaking to the East wind. "0 
 great wind that knows the Sun, that so often comes 
 with him to the world in summer, hear us now, for 
 we are hungry. Stay in your lodge. Do not visit 
 the plains when our people seek the buffalo, for thy 
 breath goes fast and far." 
 
 When he stopped the song commenced again, the 
 drum sounding hollow and deep. I felt creepy all 
 over. I wanted to see the singers. 
 
 "Can we not go into the lodge with them, Little 
 Knife?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, come," he said, and we went out into the 
 snow. The sun hadn't shone all day and snow was 
 falling slow, like it had a notion to quit and clear up. 
 
 Nobody paid any attention to us when we went 
 into the lodge and sat down near the door. The 
 music stopped and Black Bear stood up facing the 
 South. Sweat stood out on his forehead and his 
 eyes burned like a man's with fever on him. He 
 begun to chant: "Oh, soft wind, Oh, gentle wind, 
 Oh, wind that all the people love, that brings the 
 grass and the flowers, your breath is sweet with the 
 perfume of things whose lives are short and beauti- 
 ful. The flowers make you presents as you pass, 
 until you can carry no more. Do not blow! Do 
 not visit the plains now, where the North wind has 
 set his lodge, lest his breath drive you off and for 
 long. Help us by your silence!" His voice was 
 low; but it lost none of its earnestness when he 
 added, "Help us by staying away ? South wind !" 
 
208 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 They sung longer than before, and when they 
 quit the old man turned to the west. "Oh, West 
 wind," he prayed, "Oh, strong wind, Oh, wind that 
 sleeps with the Sun ; wait until the North wind has 
 piled the snow in the coulees. Do not send your 
 strong breath to the plains now, lest the buffalo be 
 told that we are coming to kill them. Our people 
 need meat. Do not tell the buffalo. Do not betray 
 us, West wind I" 
 
 He sat down, plumb tired out, and they sung a 
 song to the West wind, the music loud and soft by 
 turns a heap like the wind, I thought. 
 
 "We will go now/' said Mac. 
 
 Back in the lodge he told me that there would be 
 a buffalo-dance on the next day and that if their 
 medicine was good they would have many robes to 
 trade soon. He didn't go to his own lodge, nor we 
 didn't sit up late. I had made up my mind that I 
 wouldn't urge trading until after the big hunt, any- 
 way, and fell to thinking of Bluebird. But it didn't 
 keep me awake; for before the fire was out I was 
 asleep. 
 
 When we went down to the river in the morning 
 men was parading about the village wearing head- 
 dresses made of buffalo hair, buffalo heads with 
 horns and all left on, or bonnets made of tails. 
 They danced about and chanted songs. One man 
 wore the head of a large buffalo bull that looked 
 almost fresh-killed, it was so real and life-like. 
 They didn't talk to us nor pay any attention when 
 we met them ; and all through the day till sundown 
 they kept moving about, wearing something on 
 their heads made of buffalo hair or hides. Then at 
 night they danced till late, and it was a sight. 
 
 The weather had warmed up considerable and the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 209 
 
 snow had settled down so that there wa'n't more 
 than a foot of it on the level, though in the coulees 
 it was drifted bad. I was as anxious to see the hunt 
 as I could be, and hoped that the morning would 
 suit the hunters. 
 
 We was up before daylight, and no wonder. 
 Everybody was up. The camp-crier went about 
 telling of the hunt and saying the day would be 
 fine. Mac took his lance and his bow and arrows 
 and we set out with mighty nigh every able man in 
 the village, before it was light enough to see good. 
 And the women a passel of them come along, too, 
 and some half -grown children, all packing old robes 
 and axes. You'd think they was moving to see the 
 stuff they had ; but I soon learned that every bit was 
 needed. 
 
 After an hour's travel up the river we come to a 
 big grove of cottonwoods growing on the edge of 
 the plains, from where, as the sun come out of a 
 cloud on the eastern horizon we saw a herd of buf- 
 falo not more'n half a mile away. 
 
 Everybody knowed what to do. They begun to 
 slash brush and pull down-timber out of the snow. 
 In no time they had built a flimsy corral, using any- 
 thing for its sides, even old buffalo robes and wil- 
 lows. It wouldn't have held a hoss a minute; but 
 though I didn't scarcely believe in it, I he'ped them 
 them make it. 
 
 The cottonwood grove was a little lower than the 
 plains. I mean there was a bank that dropped down 
 about three or four feet where the plains met the 
 trees in the cottonwood bottom quite a jump-off 
 it was. They built a wall against the bank, making 
 the side of the corral of logs, too, so they could 
 place more logs from the wall to the corral's side, 
 
210 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 like the bottom of a bridge. This approach wa'n't 
 more than six feet long. Anything crossing the ap- 
 proach, or bridge bottom, would either have to 
 jump down about four feet or turn and go back; 
 but of all the miserable-constructed things I ever 
 saw it was sure the worst. If they ever managed 
 to get a buffalo into the corral I figured he'd go 
 right through it. I told Mac it wouldn't hold a rab- 
 bit. But he says, "Wait and see. The buffalo," he 
 says, "will not touch the sides when once they are 
 in the corral. They always go around and around 
 in one direction until the last one is dead. They go 
 as the sun goes. It is always so.'" 
 
 Everybody had been careful to stay in the grove, 
 and while they wa'n't over-careful about noise they 
 didn't do much talking and didn't pound any more 
 than they had to. But now some men, each packing 
 willows, walked out onto the plain, the party 
 spreading out V-shaped from the corral-bridge. 
 When the outer ends of the V had gone the right 
 distance, the men layed down behind the willows 
 they had been packing so the willows formed wings 
 to the corral. It seemed like they was flimsy make- 
 believes which wouldn't likely fool a buffalo. 
 
 As soon as the men with the willows had layed 
 down we all hid behind trees and bushes. The wind 
 was still. Black Bear's medicine was good. Not a 
 breath was stirring. 
 
 "Look," whispered Mac by my side. 
 
 A man had popped up like a jumping-jack direct- 
 ly in front of the herd. He was wearing a buffalo 
 head-dress, and though he was more than half a 
 mile away, I guessed it was the big bull's-head bon- 
 net I'd seen the day before. "Bad Weasel," whis- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 211 
 
 pered Mac. "He owns a great buffalo-stone. He is 
 the buffalo-man. Watch him." 
 
 "What is a buffalo-stone?" I asked, parting the 
 bushes to see better. 
 
 "She will tell you," he says. "Look!" 
 
 The buffalo had noticed the man. A cow, curious, 
 had walked a step or two towards him and stopped, 
 sniffing. The man begun to dance. The cow moved 
 nearer. And then others of the herd noticed and 
 stopped grazing. The cow advanced a little more, 
 and there was a general movement in the herd. 
 More than five hundred buffalo was looking at Bad 
 Weasel! I thought I'd rather be where I was than 
 out on the plains with him. But he turned his back 
 to the herd and danced towards us, hopping about 
 and even getting down on his knees sometimes. A 
 dozen cows and a big bull was walking towards him 
 now, and I could hear the people muttering. They 
 was growing excited. I turned to whisper to Mac; 
 and when I looked again Bad Weasel was gone. 
 
 "Where is he?" I asked. 
 
 "Hid in a little coulee. Watch!" 
 
 Mac got to his knees and was breathing hard. 
 The buffalo had stopped. The whole herd was 
 bunched and looking for the strange object that had 
 been near them. They was restless and ready to 
 stampede. It was a ticklish moment, and the peo- 
 ple was fretting. Directly I saw Bad Weasel rise 
 out of the snow, still in front of the herd, but closer 
 to the corral. He danced and the herd started to- 
 wards him. He begun to trot, awkwardly towards 
 us, half -dancing. The buffalo come faster, and Bad 
 Weasel ran. 
 
 The stampede was on. They was coming. I 
 prickled all over. Mac had hold of my arm and 
 
212 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE rTRAPPER 
 
 squeezed hard. Bad Weasel was running for his 
 life. It seemed like the herd would trample him to 
 shreds. He couldn't hope to out-run the buffalo. 
 I seemed to be in his place. I could feel the hot 
 breath of the big bull on my back. I struggled to 
 my feet, but Mac pulled me down. "Be still!" he 
 whispered. 
 
 Bad Weasel was near to the willow wings. I 
 hoped the men behind them was going to save him. 
 But even as I looked he was gone. Only the herd 
 was coming, running straight over the unmarked 
 snow. 
 
 Nobody moved nor spoke. The herd had entered 
 the V and was between the willow wings, running 
 blind and fast. As it passed them the willow men 
 raised up with their willows, yelling, and sending 
 the stampeded buffalo even faster towards the cor- 
 ral, till they tumbled into it, one against the other. 
 The ones behind crowded the leaders into the trap, 
 and right away the corral was a milling mass of 
 brown bodies, so thick that there wa'n't room for 
 another one. The willow-men had split the herd, 
 someway, and turned part away. There wa'n't no 
 need of care now. Everybody was talking and 
 everybody was killing buffalo. Strong bows sent 
 arrows into the big bodies so that the shafts some- 
 times stuck through them. I saw men reach in and 
 even jump in the corral and push arrows deeper 
 with their hands. 
 
 Round and round, over the dead bodies of others, 
 the buffalo ran, never once touching the corral 
 unless they was crowded against it and traveling 
 as the sun does, like Mac said. They never changed 
 their course nor stopped, till the last was dead, or 
 down to die. They stumbled blind and without 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 213 
 
 sound over the dead bodies of their fellows till the 
 last, an old bull, crazed and gored with lances and 
 even knives lashed to poles, fell panting upon the 
 carcass of another bull as big as himse'f. 
 
 It was all over with. Blood was everywhere and 
 all over everybody. The snow was awful to look at, 
 all tracked and trampled and full of red puddles for 
 more than twenty feet from the corral. I wanted 
 to get away from it; so as soon as the butchering 
 commenced Mac and I with four nice tongues, left 
 the place to the butchers. 
 
 No part of the meat was wasted. Even the en- 
 trails was taken for use and heads and legs was 
 prized. Travois-loads of meat come to the village 
 for three days, and there was feasting for four 
 nights. And all through the winter the camp dogs 
 kept a trail open to the buffalo-corral, where they 
 had many a meal, and scores of battles among 
 theirse'fs. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 We broiled fat buffalo steaks like Dad had done 
 till we couldn't eat no more ; and there was a lot of 
 good robes in the kill that would come to us in 
 trade. Even the village dogs grew fat and sleek; 
 and every day hunters fetched in more meat for the 
 camp needed much, and the women dried it as fast 
 as it come to them. 
 
 The weather wa'n't cold, and the snow didn't 
 bother us much, though it hung on till one night 
 when a Chinook hit the country and next morning 
 it was all gone except in the coulees. I couldn't be- 
 lieve it when, leaving the lodge at daylight, I saw 
 the plains as bare of snow as on a summer day, ex- 
 cepting spots in the deeper coulees. All night the 
 wind had howled and shrieked, though it was warm, 
 almost, as summer winds. Water was in puddles 
 everywhere and I felt spring had come. But in two 
 days the weather was cold again, although there 
 wa'n't no snow. The buffalo didn't leave, so that 
 there wa'n't much chance of the Crees moving their 
 village, and I was glad of that. I begun to go about 
 evenings with Mac, visiting his friends, feasting 
 and listening to stories. The Crees was proud of 
 their tribe, and I never got tired of the stories they 
 told. The fairness showed up by their telling was 
 a thing to remember. If the joke was on the teller 
 himse'f, he told it straight out and seemed to enjoy 
 it as much as anybody. 
 
 One night we was in Left Hand's lodge. He was 
 more'n sixty years old, I reckon, and he told a story 
 that I can't forget. 
 
 214 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 215 
 
 "When I was a young man," he said, cleaning his 
 black stone pipe, "there were not so many horses 
 as there are today. To steal a good horse was a 
 greater task then than to take many now. I was a 
 leader among the young men, and they looked to 
 me for brave deeds. But there was another of my 
 own age who had a large following of his own 
 larger than mine most of the time. Fine Bow, that 
 was his name. We did not like each other, and he 
 tried hard to set examples which I could not follow 
 or beat. The old men and warriors would watch, 
 and the young women took sides. But he could 
 never beat me. I could not beat him. If he won 
 an honor, I won as much but no more. And so it 
 went on till one night he came to me and said that 
 we would go together horse-stealing. 
 
 "We traveled fourteen days and many nights be- 
 fore we came upon the Blackfeet village. There 
 were more than five hundred lodges. We saw them 
 before the sun went down. They were not far from 
 here, half a day's ride up the river from this place. 
 There was no moon and when the night came it was 
 very dark and still. We were not far from the 
 nearest lodges, and while yet there was sunlight I 
 picked the horses that I would try to steal. The 
 Chief's lodge was not far off, and near it was a rope 
 corral that held four beautiful horses. I had seen 
 them plainly. One of them was white. 
 
 "The Blackfeet are careful of their horses. The 
 rope corral was so near to the big lodge that it al- 
 most touched it. But I would have the white horse 
 and another besides. I was thinking how fine it 
 would be to have such animals for my own. It was 
 growing dark. Fine Bow whispered to me. 'Go 
 your own way,' he said. 'I shall not help you.' 
 
216 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "His words angered me. 'I scorn your help/ 1 
 whispered. 'I would not have it. I have already 
 picked the horses I shall steal/ 
 
 "He laughed scornfully. 'Ha !' he said. 'If you 
 steal more horses than I do I will join your band 
 with those who follow me/ 
 
 " 'Good/ I whispered. 'If you reach our village 
 with more horses or scalps than I take, I will call 
 you my chief. Ho !' 
 
 "He crawled away in the darkness. As soon as 
 he was gone I left our hiding place and felt my way 
 toward the big lodge. No dogs howled and the 
 wind moved not. No men were stirring. Fires 
 were few in the village and most of the lodges were 
 dark. At last I reached the corral. I listened. I 
 waited there so that the horses would smell me and 
 grow used to me before I moved again. I feared 
 that if I startled them they might snort. That 
 would waken the people in the big lodge. But they 
 were quiet and I moved a little so that the horses 
 would know that I was there. Finally I crept under 
 the rope. They stirred a little then, and that made 
 me wait longer. But at last I stood up and listened. 
 There was no strange sound. No person was stir- 
 ring. I had forgotten Fine Bow. But now I won- 
 dered if he, too, had succeeded in getting into the 
 village. I stole to the side of the beautiful white 
 buffalo-runner of the chief. Ho ! what a beauty he 
 was and how sleek. I reached about his smooth 
 neck to tie my rope. Ho ! my hand bumped against 
 something strange. I nearly cried out. Then a 
 head a man's head rose over the white horse's 
 neck. I was terrified. My heart jumped like a 
 green frog, and I stepped backward. 'This is my 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 217 
 
 horse/ a voice whispered. And two eyes looked into 
 my own. 
 
 "Then anger came to me. It was Fine Bow who 
 looked at me, who whispered across the neck of the 
 white horse. He had crawled to the same corral. 
 He was after the horses that I wanted. 
 
 " 'No/ I whispered, when I could. 'I saw this 
 horse first. He is mine because I touched him be- 
 fore you did/ 
 
 " 'I want this horse, this white one !' His voice 
 was growing louder. It was too loud. He was 
 foolish. 
 
 " 'Shh !' I warned him. 'You will wake the peo- 
 ple in the lodge. Take any other horse but this 
 white one and let us go/ I begged. 
 
 "'Ho!' He struck the Chief's lodge with his 
 rope's end. It cracked like a shot. 'Ho, Blackf eet !' 
 he cried. 'A Cree is stealing your white horse !' 
 
 "I ran away. So did he. It was a dark night, 
 but we both ran fast. I was ahead. 
 
 " 'Here he goes, Blackf eet ! I am chasing the 
 Cree!' Fine Bow's voice was loud. 'He runs well 
 and his scalp is a fine one!' 
 
 "He was crazy I thought. Fine Bow had lost his 
 reason. I tried to run faster but my strength was 
 leaving me. I was almost without breath. 
 
 "Then I heard him laughing. We were far from 
 the lodges now, and I turned and seized him. 'You 
 fool !' I panted. Anger was stronger than my fear. 
 
 " 'You are the fool/ he laughed. His voice was 
 choked with glee. 
 
 '"Why did you do that?' I demanded, pushing 
 him from me. 
 
 " 'To see how brave you are/ he said and fell 
 upon the ground, laughing loud. 
 
218 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 " 'But we have stolen no horses/ I cried angrily. 
 
 " 'No/ he said, 'but I made you run by speaking 
 Cree to Blackf eet !' He got up to laugh again. 
 
 "It was so. The village laughed a long time after 
 the story was told. And while it laughed I became 
 the friend of Fine Bow." 
 
 Left Hand stirred the lodge-fire and re-filled the 
 black pipe. "There are men yet living who remem- 
 ber the story," he said, his deep-lined face set hard 
 at his thoughts of the past. He drew a brand from 
 the fire and lit the pipe. "Fine Bow was a great 
 warrior," he said. "But his years were few. I saw 
 him die, and I hope to die as he did, fighting the 
 Blackf eet. I have finished." 
 
 Everybody laughed over the story, but I didn't 
 laugh. Left Hand's face held my eyes and kept me 
 from laughing. I wished he would tell another yarn. 
 But before there was time we had another caller. 
 Black Bear, the old medicine-man, come into the 
 lodge. 
 
 Left Hand greeted him warm, placing a back- 
 rest made of little willows held together with sinew 
 and thongs for the old man at the head of the lodge ; 
 and everybody said "how" when he sat down and 
 leaned against it. He had the sternest face I ever 
 saw. His mouth was bigger than Dad's, but 
 straight cut like his was, and square-looking. His 
 hair was getting gray, and that is a mark of dis- 
 tinction among In j ins, always, a proof that the 
 Great Mystery has favored the owner. Black Bear 
 wore a necklace made of the teeth of grizzly bears, 
 and in his ears two shells as big as dollars. Right 
 over his high, broad forehead was a little knot of 
 hair, braided and wound up tight, with a bone 
 whistle sticking through it. Mac said the whistle 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 219 
 
 was made from the bone of an eagle's wing and was 
 a medicine-whistle. He must have been eighty, but 
 his eyes was bright as a boy's and when he looked 
 at me I was sure he knowed what I was thinking 
 about. 
 
 Left Hand filled the pipe but didn't light it. He 
 passed it to Black Bear, and I watched careful to 
 see how it was handled, for whenever the old man 
 smoked it was a sight to watch how deliberate and 
 careful he was of his pipe's movements. 
 
 He lit the pipe and rose to his knees. His face 
 was solemn and his eyes saw nobody about the lodge 
 fire. His lips moved but made no sound, as he 
 turned the pipe's stem slow towards the sky and 
 held it there with bowed head. Then he pointed it 
 at the earth near the fire, his lips still moving silent, 
 while he offered it to the "mother" of all things. I 
 could have counted twenty before he moved it and 
 oifered it to the four winds, the four seasons, or the 
 north, east, south, and west. I never saw a thing 
 done so solemn, nor with such grace; though I'd 
 have bet the pipe was out. 
 
 But it wa'n't. Black Bear smoked before passing 
 it back to Left Hand. After that it went around 
 the fire and I noticed that the stem was always 
 pointed towards the lodge wall and that it was 
 passed in the same direction the Sun travels. I 
 thought of the buffalo in the bloody corral. No 
 wonder they noticed and followed such customs. 
 Mebby superstition is behind a heap of them, but 
 it's hard for me to draw a line between it and a sen- 
 sible creed. I reckon they're related, one to the 
 other, anyhow. I've never forgot what Dad said 
 about the ring on the finger and the ring in the 
 nose. I try to go slow in branding things I don't 
 
220 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 understand, as frauds. But I've seen queer doings 
 and heered strange things in Injin camps things 
 I don't try to explain. They lay hold of me, too, 
 sometimes; though I reckon it's only the mystery 
 that is wrapped around them that does it, mebby. 
 Anyway, most always I've found that if you believe 
 a thing strong enough it's likely to be true, or seem 
 true. 
 
 But whatever an Injin believes in he never in- 
 sists on you accepting it as your own belief, and he 
 thinks no less of you if you don't believe like he 
 does. He holds that you have a right to your 
 opinion and claims that same right for himse'f . He 
 never scorns another's creed, no matter how much 
 it may differ from his own 
 
 That night Black Bear told this story; and when 
 he had finished I wished that Dad might have lived 
 to hear it and tell me what he thought of it. It 
 left me wondering and I've wondered often since. 
 They believe things that we don't believe, and do 
 things that we can't do. I'll let it go at that. 
 
 "When I was a boy," begun Black Bear, "our 
 people had camped in the Cypress Hills. There 
 were no buffalo, and the Crees were hungry. The 
 heat had burned the buffalo range and the Black- 
 feet had whipped us hard. There was much mourn- 
 ing among the women and many faces were painted. 
 The old men said that the buffalo had left the world, 
 had hidden away in a great hole in the ground to 
 the eastward. There were no antelope. Maybe they 
 had gone into hiding with the buffalo. I do not 
 know. The plains were bare, all bare, and brown. 
 The people knew why all this had come upon them. 
 Wah-pi-oose, the buffalo-man had lost the great 
 buffalo-stone of the Crees; it could not be found; 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 221 
 
 and they must starve. Their hearts were on the 
 ground ! 
 
 "Natuse; ah, I remember that great medicine- 
 man ! Natuse went away alone. For four days and 
 four nights he stayed away. Then some young men 
 saw him returning. They went to meet him. He 
 was crawling over the hot plains crawling on his 
 belly as a snake travels. He would not speak to 
 the young men, nor would he allow them to help 
 him, but kept crawling painfully on. He did not 
 reach the village until it was dark. His finger nails 
 were torn away and his hands were cut and bleed- 
 ing. Blood had dried upon his face where the 
 bushes had scratched it, for he had come straight 
 for the village, as his medicine had told him he 
 must. Natuse stopped near to my father's lodge. 
 'Bring me a knife/ he called. My father gave his 
 knife to him. Then Natuse cut off his little finger 
 and buried it in the ground under him. 'Ho! my 
 people/ he said, rising to his feet. 'I bring good 
 news/ 
 
 "The Crees gathered near him to listen. 'In the 
 early morning/ said Natuse, 'the buffalo will come. 
 The plains will be blackened with them. Let the 
 hunters prepare. Let the women get ready, for 
 there will be much to do. Let no one leave the vil- 
 lage, but keep some young men upon that knoll 
 where they can watch the little lake. They must 
 not take their eyes off its water. With the buffalo 
 will come one that wears a white robe. A warrior 
 will kill that buffalo, but he must not take his robe. 
 Let him who kills the white buffalo remember this, 
 and come here for me when it is slain. I have 
 finished/ 
 
 "The people were glad. Natuse was powerful. 
 
222 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 My father has told me that Natuse foretold the 
 coming of the whitemen, and that he even described 
 their weapons before any people on the world had 
 even seen them. Yes, I remember Natuse when he 
 was very old, and now I am as old as he was when 
 he did what I am telling. 
 
 "The village that night was as still as the places 
 where the dead are buried. All the night the young 
 men were upon the knoll watching the lake. A 
 bright star looked at me through the smoke-hole of 
 my father's lodge. I saw it move a little. Then a 
 star that was near it fell and a streak of light made 
 a glow upon the dark lodge wall. A grasshopper 
 crawled upon my arm and sang in the night. I was 
 frightened. I crept out of the lodge without mak- 
 ing a noise. The day was not far off, I thought, for 
 a wind was beginning to stir as it does when the 
 day is coming. I crept to a hilltop not far from the 
 knoll where the young men were watching the lake. 
 I heard a wolf howl down where the shadows were 
 thick near the water, and a stone I had loosened in 
 walking went tumbling down the slope towards 
 the village. Then a dog howled and my body felt 
 as though a cactus were being pressed against it, 
 for I feared that all the dogs would answer. But 
 they did not, and I sat down to watch the lake. 
 After a time I heard a strange noise (Black Bear 
 made a humming sound deep down in his throat). 
 I could see nothing that was making it; but the air 
 felt queer about me. I was very young and the 
 noise scared me. It came again, louder than before, 
 and then I saw that the lake was disturbed. White 
 smoke was coming from the water. Then it bubbled 
 and boiled, just as a kettle does over a fire. The 
 ground trembled and the noise came again. Mn- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 223 
 
 mn-mn-mn ugh-ugh! Mn-mn-mn-mn ugh-ugh! The 
 air became heated and the ground shook and stirred 
 under me. I could scarcely get my breath. It was 
 terrible. 
 
 "The people in the village were awake, too, but 
 they did not hear the strange! noise as I did. I kept 
 my eyes upon the lake. Suddenly the water rose in 
 the middle and the lump was like a ball of water. 
 The ball began rolling towards the shore, rolling, 
 rolling, rolling, until it struck the beach and burst 
 with much white smoke. Ho! Out of the mist of 
 white smoke there walked a buffalo. He was white 
 as the snow. Ho! He stood on the land looking 
 towards the east. He was the Medicine Buffalo that 
 Natuse had told us would come. 
 
 "Then lumps rose up all about the lake and began 
 rolling towards the shore. Each lump burst with 
 a puff of white smoke and a buffalo came out of it. 
 When the shore was black with buffalo the white 
 bull began to move eastward, and the rest followed 
 as fast as they reached the land. The white smoke 
 hung over the lake until it almost hid the mighty 
 herd that was coming out of the water. They could 
 not be counted. The ground trembled with their 
 weight; and as far eastward as I could see there 
 were buffalo without end. The hunters went after 
 them and the travois followed to bring in the meat. 
 My father killed the white bull. Natuse skinned 
 him and gave the white robe to the Sun. I have 
 finished." 
 
 Left Hand filled the pipe again. 
 
 "My grandfather was Natuse's brother," said 
 Sitting Horse, a man as old as Black Bear. 
 
 "Ahh!" both Left Hand and the old medicine- 
 man said, like they both had knowed him. 
 
224 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Black Bear smoked and passed the pipe as before, 
 but nobody spoke till it was back with Left Hand. 
 It was plain that Sitting Horse was expected to go 
 on. And he did. 
 
 "My grandfather was with a war-party once that 
 was led by Natuse," he said. "Grandfather was 
 young then. He told me this: 
 
 "One night they camped in a dark forest where 
 great pine trees grew. It was far to the eastward. 
 The war-party numbered thirty men. It was in the 
 month of roses and rain fell every day and night. 
 They had found no enemy. In the night a great 
 stillness came in the darkness. The heavy rain had 
 stopped but a fine mist was falling. The great trees 
 leaked water through their tops and no dry places 
 could be found. There was something that made 
 them afraid. Even Natuse felt it. None could tel] 
 what it was that frightened them. That made it 
 worse. The men tried to sleep but the stillness 
 among the pine trees made it hard for them to get 
 breath. 
 
 "Suddenly Natuse sat up straight near my grand- 
 father and there came a terrible crashing sound 
 that hurt the ears. With it came a flood of light 
 that went away as soon as it came. The air 
 smelled of something that did not belong in the 
 world. Ten of the war-party were dead and two 
 that lived were blind forever. A great hole was 
 torn in the ground near Natuse and grandfather 
 and flying dirt had covered them. It was long be- 
 fore they could speak or move. Then Natuse and 
 grandfather walked down into the hole the great 
 noise had made. In the bottom they found a 
 feather. It was green as the new grass in the early 
 spring and was as long as a war-bow. It came from 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 225 
 
 the wing of the thunder-bird, Natuse told my 
 grandfather. It was the thunder-bird that made 
 the hole in the ground and brought the great light. 
 It was the thunder-bird that killed the warriors. 
 The rest came back to the village. I have finished." 
 Right away I knowed it was lightning that dug 
 the hole and killed the men. (White folks are 
 mighty sure of theirse'fs and know a heap.) But 
 I couldn't understand the green feather. Natuse 
 didn't lie, and Sitting Horse believed every word of 
 what he told. So did all the rest all but me; and 
 I wondered why. I knowed that dreams figured in 
 the lives of Injins and thought mebby a dream had 
 mixed itse'f up with a thunder storm 'way back 
 yonder when Sitting Horse's grandfather was a boy. 
 But dream or no dream, the thing that grabs you 
 the thing you think you can explain and can't, was 
 in the story. I don't know how to say it, but it 
 dared you, somehow; and I liked it the way I'd 
 liked the Robinson Crusoe book of Abner Hastings'. 
 And the green feather made me feel like I knowed 
 he felt when he run onto the man's track in the 
 sand. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 When I sat by my own fire after Mac had gone to 
 his lodge for the night I thought about the stories 
 some more. White folks that lived long ago and 
 was wild like the In j ins held to queer beliefs and 
 their medicine-men told of chariots of fire and folks 
 that turned to salt. Nobody disputed them, and 
 even now it won't do to make light of it. And I 
 wouldn't do it, noway. I reckon that mixed with 
 the truth in every belief there is a passel of impos- 
 sibilities which folks could separate if they dared, 
 and that whether they admit it or not, both white 
 and red folks'll bear shackles of mystery rather 
 than to pick and choose. 
 
 Once when I was little old Nate Busey that lives 
 down on Coon Creek below the mill told me to watch 
 out for devil's darning needles, those big dragon 
 flies that stays around water. He said they'd sew 
 up the lips of boys that used bad words. I told it 
 to Jeff Hawkins and after that we was both afraid 
 of them and was mighty careful what we said when 
 we was fishing. I've even set out to kill them with 
 a stick, holding one hand over my lips. And 
 blamed if I ain't half afraid of them to this day, 
 even though I sure know they're harmless. 
 
 I figured that we had owned beliefs as rickety as 
 anybody's and that the difference, if there was any, 
 was less than between the bow-and-arrow and my 
 rifle. And I let it go at that. 
 
 It was a long time before I went to sleep. In 
 spite of all I could do to keep it off, lonesomeness 
 layed hold of me. I built up my fire, but it didn't 
 
 226 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 227 
 
 he'p, and I let it go plumb out and layed on my back 
 looking up through the smoke-hole at the stars. 
 But I couldn't fit myse'f to the plains, noway. I 
 mean, to live there always. While Dad was living 
 I'd never thought about living there always; just 
 thought about one day at a time, like, leaving things 
 to him to settle, I reckon. But now I'd got to think 
 for myse'f. 
 
 I could see clear that I ought to get back where I 
 come from; and I wanted to. Then when I'd set- 
 tled it and tried to go to sleep, I got to thinking of 
 Bluebird. I tried to shut her out, but whenever I 
 turned my thoughts away from her I couldn't hold 
 to it, and back she'd come. 
 
 It's queer, but when you try to keep from thinks 
 ing of anything the trying itse'f won't let go of 
 what you want to turn loose, and it hangs around 
 till finally you give up. I wished that she hadn't 
 fetched the kettle that night, and felt plumb 
 ashamed of it as soon as I'd wished it. I got to 
 asking questions and answering myse'f honest. 
 
 Wa'n't it a kind act, fetching the kettle? 
 
 It sure was. 
 
 Wa'n't she as fine a little woman as I ever saw? 
 
 Yes, she was. 
 
 Had she made eyes at me or tried to get ac- 
 quainted? 
 
 No, not by a long shot. 
 
 And then I got mad at her ducking back into her 
 father's lodge that morning when she saw me. She 
 didn't want to have anything to do with me. And 
 she needn't. I was a whiteman and she was only 
 an Injin woman. As soon as that come out I felt 
 as sneaking as a coyote and took it back. And 
 that's the way I spent more than two hours. 
 
228 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Mac come early to the lodge, but I was up and 
 stirring when he lifted the door and entered. 
 
 "Did you rest well?" he asked, kneeling beside 
 the fire. 
 
 "No," I answered, and looked into his eyes. 
 There was something in his voice that told me I 
 needn't have answered that he knowed I'd spent a 
 restless night. 
 
 He stirred the fire with a stick; then dropped it 
 on the blaze. "The ways of your people are dif- 
 ferent from the ways of the Crees, Lone Wolf," he 
 said. "Do you think that Bluebird is a fool, or that 
 Red Robe has no eyes?" He begun to fill his pipe, 
 absent, with his thin fingers, while his glance was 
 on me without seeing that I was there. 
 
 I could feel my face getting hot. "What do you 
 mean?" I asked. But I was sure he knowed I 
 didn't mean for him to answer me. 
 
 "I know but little of the ways of my father's peo- 
 ple and your own," he went on directly, leaning for- 
 ward to take a brand from the fire to light the pipe. 
 "Be wise, Lone Wolf. Do not seem to steal about 
 among the Crees. Their customs are their own and 
 you are here with them. Speak out, that they may 
 know what you mean and what is in your heart, lest 
 they think you treacherous, all because they do not 
 know the whiteman's ways. If you want Bluebird 
 go to her father." 
 
 He passed me the pipe and I took it. Before I 
 could speak his hands flashed the signs "smoke first." 
 It is a good rule and I have followed it since then. 
 My feeling wa'n't all clean resentment. It was a 
 mixed feeling, with some anger. But it weakened 
 before the quiet little man across the lodge-fire, and 
 when I spoke I'd killed it off. 
 
UGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 229 
 
 "I have not even told myself that I want her, Lit- 
 tle Knife," I said. "But I would like to know her, 
 like to learn if I do want her. That is the way of 
 my people. And if she does not want me I would 
 not have her, even though I could." 
 
 I was speaking the truth, I had not thought of 
 having Bluebird for my wife. If it had been in my 
 mind I hadn't knowed it. I'd took to her from the 
 first, the same as I had to Dad. She seemed to draw 
 me, and I wanted to talk to her and be friendly. 
 But I couldn't stay on the plains always. And I 
 remembered what Dad had said just before he went 
 and how all along he'd tried to keep me away from 
 her. 
 
 "I do not think that I want her, Little Knife," I 
 said, handing back the pipe. 
 
 He paid no attention to that. "Your ways are 
 different from ours," he says, putting away his pipe. 
 "Bluebird is a Cree woman and will do as her father 
 decides. I have spoken." 
 
 "She seems to be afraid of me," I said. But he 
 didn't answer. 
 
 "The weather will change soon. There will be 
 snow again," he said finally. "We must kill some 
 meat." 
 
 "They are curious folks," I thought. "I am 
 ready to hunt for meat," I told him. "But let us 
 begin trading soon." Our talk had made me want 
 to get away more than ever. I wanted to get the 
 thing settled. "When can we start our trading?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "There is no good in haste," he smiled. "The 
 robes and fur will come to us and to no others. It 
 is quite a time until spring and while we may begin 
 to trade even now, it is well to be slow, for we shall 
 
230 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 be able to choose the best by taking time. Let us 
 go out on the plains today." 
 
 So we set out up the Marias after buffalo. The 
 morning was chill. A strong wind was blowing, 
 but the plains was nigh bare of snow. I rode Bill's 
 hoss to save Eagle, though they was all fat enough 
 and fit; but I reckoned to save Dad's war-hoss for 
 special occasions. 
 
 I hadn't ever yet run buffalo; and no sooner had 
 we started than my hoss, going as fast as he could, 
 fell with me and mighty nigh laid me up. My head 
 hit the frozen ground and I went plumb asleep for 
 a spell. When I come to Mac was with me. I felt 
 light-headed and sick at my stomach. 
 
 The herd was only a small one and it was more'n 
 three miles away when I got straightened out. But 
 Mac had killed a fat cow, so we called it good and 
 quit. 
 
 A lump was swelling above my ear and I felt 
 worse than I let on when we started back for the 
 village. Before we got there I had to get down, or 
 I'd have fallen off, I reckon. Mac got down, too, 
 and we both waited a spell till I felt better ; but my 
 head wa'n't right by a long shot when we got in. 
 
 As we passed Red Robe's lodge, Bluebird come 
 out. She had a kettle in her hand. 
 
 "What is wrong?" she asked, dropping the kettle 
 and coming to meet us. I thought she looked 
 scared. 
 
 "His horse fell with him. His head is hurt," Mac 
 said, starting on. 
 
 "Come into the lodge." She turned and walked 
 to it in that silent way of hers and raised the door. 
 "Lone Wolf is hurt," she said, and I heard them 
 murmur "Ahh," inside. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 231 
 
 I was glad to sit down, but the warmth of the 
 lodge made me light-headed again and I layed down 
 on a robe. I wa'n't out of my mind. I could hear 
 them talking and knowed what was going on, but it 
 was dim, and I didn't care. Somebody undid my 
 head-silk. And I knowed it was her. I tried to 
 sit up, but she pressed her hand against my breast 
 and I give up. It was good to be still. She put 
 something cold on my head and I could hear them 
 pounding up some roots to make medicine that 
 would he'p me. But I dozed off. 
 
 I must have slept a long spell, for when I woke 
 it was plumb dark. The fire was crackling and I 
 could see them all in its dim light. I stirred a lit- 
 tle, and Bluebird come and changed a cloth on my 
 head. 
 
 "You are better," she said, pressing down the 
 cloth gentle and careful. "You must have had a 
 bad fall. Lie still yet a while." 
 
 I had moved to get up. I wished she would talk 
 some more, but she sat down where I couldn't even 
 see her and was still. The rest went on talking in 
 low voices ; and Mac was there. 
 
 Directly I sat up and the cloth that smelled strong 
 of herbs, fell off. 
 
 "How," smiled Red Robe, rising to his knees 
 across the fire. And Mac come over and sat down 
 by my side. 
 
 "I am better," I said. "I have had a good nap." 
 My head pained me some but I wa'n't dizzy no more 
 nor sick. I was hungry. "Come," I says to Mac, 
 "let us go to our own lodge." 
 
 But his hand was on my arm and I did not get up. 
 
 "I would speak," he said to Red Robe. And the 
 warrior straightened his body. 
 
232 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "Your lodge is a good place." Mac spoke slow 
 and in a low voice. "Manitou gives comfort to 
 those who are cunning with weapons, and you are a 
 great hunter. 
 
 "I would speak for my friend, Lone Wolf. I 
 would tell what is in his heart. He did not know 
 that I would speak, did not guess that I would tell 
 you. He did not ask me to speak for him, but Lit- 
 tle Knife is the friend of Lone Wolf. The ways of 
 the whiteman are not our ways, and that my friend 
 may not be misunderstood, that you may respect 
 him as he goes about the village, I will speak for 
 him before you while his own ears listen. 
 
 "Lone Wolf thinks much of Bluebird. He would 
 talk to her often and learn to know her well. He 
 would not seek to take her to his lodge unless she 
 wished to go there as his woman. That is the way 
 of his people. He has told me this, and I am his 
 friend, that he would first be sure that Bluebird 
 was the woman he wanted and that he was the man 
 she desired before he spoke to you, her father. 
 Lone Wolf will have but one woman. That, too, is 
 the way of his people. Red Robe knows that Lone 
 Wolf is a good hunter, that his heart is kind, and 
 that he has many goods and horses. I have fin- 
 ished." 
 
 Red Robe drew his pipe from his fire-bag slowly 
 and laid it before him. A puppy whined at the 
 lodge-door and Bluebird raised it and lifted in the 
 shivering, fuzzy mite, born plumb out of season. 
 
 I can't tell you how I felt. I was angry at Mac 
 and sorry for her all in one. But it was done. I 
 wanted to get out of there; but I couldn't see any 
 way to do it right. 
 
 "You'll spick now," said Mac in English. "You'll 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 233 
 
 tell heem I ha'n't lie, me. Dat's bes' way, ma 
 frien'." His voice seemed to beg me to do like he 
 said. 
 
 "What Little Knife has spoken is true," I says. 
 "I did not know that he would do as he has done. 
 I did not ask him to do it. But he has not lied. 
 There/' I thought, "I've done it." 
 
 Bluebird's mother put a stick on the fire but no- 
 body spoke. The other children was staring at me, 
 their black eyes searching my face. I felt my head 
 throb, and looked at Bluebird. She was snuggling 
 the puppy in her arms with her head bent over him. 
 
 Red Robe filled the pipe with tobacco and willow 
 bark and when he reached for a fire-brand the light 
 fell on his face. It was seamed deep, like Dad's, 
 and honest-looking and kind. He lit the pipe and 
 offered it to the Sun, the father, and then to the 
 Earth, the mother, of all things, before he passed 
 it to me. I took it and smoked as he had and as 
 careful. Then, after Mac had smoked, the old war- 
 rior spoke and I haven't forgot his words. They 
 was fair. 
 
 "All people have their ways," he said, looking 
 straight at me. "The Blackf eet and the Crows and 
 the Sioux, each have customs that are not like those 
 of the Crees. But that does not mean that the 
 ways of those people are wrong. Let each nation 
 follow its own ways as its fathers did, and let any 
 who become members of a tribe of people conform 
 to its customs. That is well, for it is easier for one 
 man to change his ways than it is for many to 
 adopt those that are his. I have known many 
 whitemen. Some were honest. Lone Wolf is a 
 brave man and I would call him my friend. Let it 
 be as he wishes. But let him come to my lodge to 
 
234 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 talk to my daughter and know her, where all may 
 hear what he says, if they care to listen. I have 
 finished." 
 
 I was more'n half set against Mac, and fidgety. 
 I wanted Red Robe to know that I appreciated him 
 being fair, but I didn't want Bluebird to believe 
 that I sure wanted her, only to find out later on that 
 I didn't. I couldn't think of a worth-while thing 
 to say ; but I knowed I plumb had to say something. 
 
 Red Robe was putting away his pipe with the air 
 of a man who has set aside a respected custom to 
 oblige a friend, and Mac was looking at the lodge 
 wall over my head, listening, like. I reachd across 
 the fire and shook hands with Red Robe. "I will 
 go now," I told him. "But I will visit your lodge, 
 and I would that you come often to mine." 
 
 Mac got up to go with me. I mighty nigh stopped 
 to say something to Bluebird. I wanted to; but 
 I wa'n't sure it would be right. I saw her eyes in 
 the firelight, though, and I thought they looked glad. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 My head was sore the next morning, and I did not 
 go out on the plains with Mac. The cut in my 
 scalp had bled some, so that my hair was tangled 
 it was longer than Dad's now and I washed, it and 
 my head-silk to get rid of the medicine-smell. 
 
 Red Robe come to the lodge door soon after Mac 
 had gone, but he didn't come in. He asked how I 
 felt; but he didn't mention Bluebird nor I didn't. 
 
 I slicked up the lodge and run up a few bullets 
 and cleaned my rifle to pass the time. It was after 
 noon before I was through and sat down. I hadn't 
 spoke to Mac about him taking my business into his 
 own hands and figured that I wouldn't. He thought 
 he was doing me a kindness. I knowed that; and 
 when he told Red Robe what I had said to him he 
 believed what he had spoken. But he forgot part 
 of what I'd told himthat I didn't want Bluebird. 
 But there wa'n't any use arguing with Mac, nor 
 jangling over a woman, noway. I would overlook 
 it and we'd go on as before. I made up my mind 
 to that and felt better and easier. It would only 
 be a little while till I could get away and I needn't 
 come back. I smiled to myse'f. Come back? I 
 wouldn't come back to the plains once I got safe 
 away to St. Louis. Nobody could pester me about 
 Caley Byers now. I took a look at the paper Dad 
 had signed, though I didn't undo it. I just wanted 
 to make sure it was there and safe. 
 
 It was sundown before Mac come in. He had 
 made a good killing but he was tired and went to his 
 
 235 
 
236 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 own lodge to sleep. I broiled a fat steak and 
 smoked alone. It wa'n't late when I turned in, but 
 I slept till daylight. And it was snowing hard 
 when I got up. The fire ring was covered white 
 and it was dark, though I knowed it wa'n't early. 
 I was hungry as a buffalo wolf and it didn't take 
 me long to get a fire started. 
 
 The air was thick with snow-flakes when I went 
 for water and the plains was hid from sight. I 
 reckoned that the storm would last a spell and I 
 went back to my lodge feeling comfortable, like, and 
 satisfied. I have mostly always since then felt that 
 way when I had meat and a fire and the weather 
 was bad, especially late in the fall when Nahpee has 
 made his sign that the summer is dead. 
 
 Mac come in and Yellow Bear. We smoked and 
 talked till after noon. Then we went to visit Medi- 
 cine Elk for a spell. He had company already and 
 was gambling. But we sat down and watched. 
 Medicine Elk and Big Rock was playing the bone 
 game, and they had been at it since early morning, 
 I reckoned by the pile of robes and furs and fixings 
 that was behind Big Rock, the visitor. Medicine 
 Elk was pretty much interested in the game. He 
 said 'how' when we come in and then forgot us. It 
 was Big Rock's turn with the bones two sections 
 of a deer's shank about two and a half inches long, 
 one with a thong fastened about it, the other bare. 
 He reached behind him and drew five dressed robes 
 to a place between himse'f and Medicine Elk. 'Til 
 wager these against their worth," he said. 
 
 Medicine Elk spoke to his woman. She got up 
 and fetched a parfleche, painted bright with colors, 
 which she opened by the fire. It was a dress that 
 she took out, a beautiful-worked elk-skin dress all 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 237 
 
 fancy with colored quills and fringe. I saw her 
 face as she handed it to her man, and I was plumb 
 sorry for her. It had taken months of work to 
 make that dress, and likely she hadn't even had a 
 chance to wear it. 
 
 "Ten tanned robes against this dress," said Medi- 
 cine Elk. "See, Big Rock, it is beautiful." 
 
 "No, six," objected Big Rock, "only six," and he 
 reached for another robe that had belonged to his 
 host and put it with the first five. 
 
 "Bet ten robes against it," urged Medicine Elk, 
 holding the pretty thing up in the firelight. 
 
 But Big Rock didn't look. "I will bet eight 
 dressed robes that is all," he said, and lit his pipe. 
 He was older than Medicine Elk and one eye was 
 gone. He was naked to the waist and had a scar 
 on his right side as wide as my hand. 
 
 Medicine Elk's face didn't change. "Good," he 
 said, laying the dress on top of the eight robes. "I 
 can beat you this time. Ho !" 
 
 He took the bones and begun to rock and sway 
 and sing like a woman quieting a fretting child. 
 His hands was so quick I couldn't see what he did. 
 But directly he opened one of them before Big 
 Rock. The marked bone, the one with the thong 
 around it, was there in his palm. He held it still 
 only a second. Then he closed his hand, passing 
 this other, while he sung and swayed his body in 
 time with the tune. 
 
 Big Rock's eye was fastened on him, and it was 
 lit up with excitement that no word or movement 
 of his hands would show. I was so tightened up I 
 ached. I hoped the woman wouldn't lose her dress. 
 
 Suddenly Medicine Elk sat still, both arms ex- 
 tended towards Big Rock, hands shut with their 
 
238 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 backs up. I could feel myse'f prickle all over. The 
 woman bent over her man's shoulder and her eyes 
 ha'nted me for days afterward. Even Mac raised 
 to his knees to look. 
 
 "Ho!" Big Rock struck his own right arm. 
 Medicine Elk opened his right hand. The marked 
 bone was there. The dress was lost. 
 
 "All of my horses against everything in that pile 
 behind you. I will end the game that way," said 
 Medicine Elk, offering Big Rock the bones. 
 
 "Good," he said, and took the bones. "I will bet 
 as you have said, the pile against all your horses." 
 
 Medicine Elk spoke again to the woman and she 
 put a stick on the fire. A hundred hosses! And 
 the pile of goods represented months of work. The 
 stick blazed up and Big Rock begun to sing and 
 juggle the bones about. Then, after he'd showed 
 the marked bone to Medicine Elk he begun to sway 
 in earnest to his song. I didn't like him. "Urn-urn 
 aaye-aaye aaye-aaye. Ho!" He sat straight up 
 with his hands held towards Medicine Elk and his 
 one eye boring him like an auger. 
 
 "Ho !" Medicine Elk slapped his own left arm and 
 right off Big Rock opened his left hand. But the 
 marked bone wa'n't there; only the smooth one. 
 
 I could feel my heart pounding and my mouth 
 Was plumb dry. But Medicine Elk smiled. "Now," 
 he said, even, "I will bet this lodge against five good 
 horses." 
 
 I saw the woman's hand cover her mouth. She 
 wa'n't going to cry out. It was only the sign of 
 astonishment, made, most likely, without her know- 
 ing she did it. Then for the first time I saw the 
 face of a boy between the woman and Mac. His 
 lips was open and there was a guarded look of 
 
UGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 239 
 
 anxiety in his black eyes. But he too was a Cree 
 and held onto himse'f. 
 
 Big Rock, anxious, I rckoned, to follow up his 
 luck, lit his own pipe and drew the smoke deep into 
 his lungs. When it come through his thin lips one 
 word come with it. "No," he said, and passed his 
 pipe to Medicine Elk. 
 
 I liked him better for his answer, and I could 
 feel the woman and the boy let down, like. I took 
 a better hold of myse'f. The excitement of the 
 game had layed hold of me ; and I let down, too. 
 
 Medicine Elk smoked, and when the pipe went 
 back to Big Rock you wouldn't know there had been 
 gambling between them. Medicine Elk joked and 
 laughed and seemed anxious to show Big Rock and 
 ourse'fs special attention. He filled his own pipe 
 with tobacco he borrowed from Mac and passed it 
 without even a look at the pile of goods behind Big 
 Rock that held every trinket, every bit of finery and 
 fur, and every robe he had owned. Besides, he had 
 no hosses not even one. 
 
 We left before Big Rock did. I hated to see him 
 pack up his winnings, especially the woman's dress ; 
 and we left him there to do it after we was gone. 
 
 I got to thinking of old Hi Penney at the Cross- 
 ing while Mac made a fire in my lodge. Hi gam- 
 bled, or folks said he did. He went to the river 
 and took trips on steamboats just to play cards, 
 they said. Nobody had any use for Hi, and I was 
 half afraid of him and never let him talk to me. 
 He was the only gambler in our parts. Folks bet 
 on hoss races and held up their heads; but to bet 
 on anything else, except mebby rifle-shooting, was 
 bad business. I begun to wonder at the way they 
 figured it out, but there wa'n't anybody to talk to 
 
24Q LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 about it. Mac gambled. I'd seen him win a hoss. 
 Some Injins wouldn't drink liquor. I knowed that. 
 And mebby some wouldn't gamble. I reckoned we 
 was about even on that. 
 
 The storm quit when the sun went down, leaving 
 nigh a foot of snow on the plains. And then that 
 night the wind blew hard, so that when morning 
 come there was drifts and long stretches without 
 any snow to speak of. But it was cold as all get 
 out, and bright again. We traded some that day 
 and the next. We was beginning to get some 
 beaver too, though not many. We baled up the 
 robes as fast as we got them, and I begun to figure 
 what we'd make by spring. For more than a week 
 we traded a little every day. Big Rock offered the 
 dress of Medicine Elk's woman for two blankets, 
 but I wouldn't listen. I was counting the days till 
 spring, and getting more and more anxious to make 
 our goods count in trading. 
 
 One morning Mac come to the lodge before day- 
 light. "Come with us," he said, blowing coals and 
 kindling into a flame. "Some young men will run 
 buffalo today make a surround and then run the 
 buffalo. Eagle needs to be used and I have told 
 them to bring him in with the others." 
 
 I sat up. "Mac," I says, "I'm tired of being an 
 Injin. Let's talk English. You be a whiteman for 
 a spell." 
 
 He smiled. "Mak' de w'iteman hout de Hinjin?" 
 He slapped his knee and laughed aloud. Then he 
 raised up and put his hand on my shoulder. "No, 
 ma frien'," he said. "Hl'm never see dat, me, 
 nevair. Mak' de Hinjin hout de w'iteman? Oui, 
 Hl'm see dat planty tarn, me." 
 
 "Well, you won't see it this time," I said, I bris- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 241 
 
 tied like a porcupine. "You'll have to admit that 
 the whiteman is the best, the greatest of all men. 
 You know it, don't you?" 
 
 He rubbed his nose, while his eyes twinkled with 
 fun. "Well, mebby," he says, looking straight at 
 me. "She's mak* de gun, de w'iteman. But she's 
 pay nodder man por mak' de prayer por heem. Ha, 
 ha, ha ! She's f onny man, de w'iteman, ma f adder's 
 peop'. No tarn to smell de rose. She's mak' de 
 money, money, money; but smell de flower? No 
 tarn por dat dam' foolishness, by gar no tarn. Yes, 
 she's greatest man, mebby." 
 
 Then he says in Cree: "Come, Lone Wolf, let us 
 run the buffalo. I want to be a Cree again." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 Mac had his way, as usual. 
 
 The hosses was fat as butter, and when they was 
 fetched in some of them was right frisky. Eagle 
 was so pretty that everybody liked him and talked 
 about him. He knowed they admired him and cut 
 up and acted wild; but he was gentle as a kitten, 
 and just putting on dog. 
 
 It was a fine, bright morning, and more than 
 twenty young women was watching us as we set out. 
 There was thirty of us, each riding a hoss and lead- 
 ing another the one we was saving for the run. 
 Most everybody rode a pad or buffalo saddle, though 
 some rode bare-backed with only a rope on their 
 hosses' jaws. I saw Bluebird and waved my rifle 
 at her. She had an eagle feather in her hand and 
 she held it up and waved it, and looked tickled. 
 
 "We will follow you with the travois," a young 
 woman said. And then they all laughed, for they 
 knowed that if we made a killing their mothers 
 would be with them if they followed the hunt. 
 
 We rode around the village, the young men and 
 Mac singing and carrying on to show off, while the 
 young women laughed and joked us. A young man 
 named Big Sky turned around on his hoss to ride 
 backward, but the hoss didn't like it and before he 
 could get straightened out he was on the ground. 
 How the young women laughed! Big Sky got up 
 and danced while somebody caught up his hosses 
 again. And that's the way it went round and 
 round the village, everybody full of fun and frolic. 
 We passed close to Bluebird and she stepped put 
 
 242 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 243 
 
 and caught hold of Eagle's f oretop. I held up, and 
 she braided the feather in Eagle's mane, him pre- 
 tending he was afraid of her. I thanked her and 
 give her a smile. Then I went on to catch up with 
 Mac. And first I knowed I was singing, myse'f. 
 
 Directly, like it was planned to surprise the young 
 women, we dashed away up the Marias, looking for 
 a herd of buffalo. I could hear the young women 
 singing for more'n a mile, till the sound finally died 
 away. I felt right good; and the plains looked so 
 far-spread and free that I took back some of the 
 things I'd thought of them. But not all. 
 
 We talked and cut up and rode pretty fast till we 
 saw a herd of buffalo away off on the plains towards 
 the east. It was mighty pretty to see. The plains, 
 lit up by the morning sun, yellowish-brown, with 
 the dry grass striped with long narrow snow-drifts 
 crusted hard as ice, seemed to be without end. And 
 as far as I could see the Missouri's course was 
 clean-marked by leafless cottonwoods. I thought 
 of the morning I first saw it, from the hilltop nigh 
 St. Louis, and tried to imagine leaves on the trees, 
 and flowers. But I couldn't. That's the way of the 
 plains. They hold you to theirse'fs. There's no 
 time but the present on the plains, and the hour 
 itse'f is so plumb full of wonder or fun or beauty 
 or misery, or something that no other place offers 
 the same way, that you can't mope in the past or 
 dream about the future. 
 
 We stopped and divided into two parties and 
 then set out again towards the buffalo, one party 
 turning to the right a little and the other to the left, 
 in order to surround the herd. When we was nigh 
 we got down and changed hosses. Eagle was so 
 keen to run that he mighty nigh broke up the hunt. 
 
244 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 He bolted twice and I had all I could do to hold him 
 in. 
 
 But it wa'n't long till the parties was in position, 
 and we charged straight at the herd, closing in 
 around it on all sides. I killed one, a young bull; 
 and twenty others must have been killed before the 
 herd broke away and stampeded. Buffalo is fool- 
 ish animals. Once they get started they won't turn 
 but run straight ahead. That's why the Injins can 
 run them the way they do. 
 
 I had trouble reloading. Just as I'd managed it, 
 Mac called to me. He'd wheeled his hoss to run the 
 buffalo, and I followed. 
 
 Eagle raced away, past Mac, and alongside of a 
 fat cow. I poked the rifle-barrel close to her and 
 pulled the trigger. At the crack of the gun Eagle 
 sprung to one side, mighty nigh upsetting me. I 
 thought he'd shied at the shot; but he hadn't. He 
 was only looking out for himse'f . I begun to try to 
 reload, the wind blowing my powder away f aster'n 
 I could pour it out. And after a dozen tries I got 
 loaded. We was tight alongside of another cow, 
 going lickety-split. I cut loose and she went down. 
 Eagle dodged, and none too quick, for he'd have run 
 into her if he hadn't. I was ahead of all the run- 
 ners. Eagle, never stopping, laid himse'f close to 
 another buffalo. But it wa'n't worth while killing 
 him. I couldn't load fast enough, and I was losing 
 too much powder. I pulled him up. Mac sailed 
 past with two arrows in his mouth and one on his 
 bow-string. Eagle pawed and whinnied and wanted 
 to go on, but I got down and petted his head. He 
 shook his mane, mad as all get out; and the eagle- 
 feather come off. I picked it up and fixed it back 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 245 
 
 again, while I watched the chase for more than two 
 miles. Then I started back. 
 
 A rifle wa'n't any account running buffalo, not 
 compared to a bow and arrows. I could see that. 
 They was too heavy and awkward to load on a run- 
 ning hoss. Even a pistol was better, I figured. 
 
 I passed a lot of buffalo, some not quite dead, and 
 some down and quiet, and others walking around 
 sick as all get out with three or four arrows deep in 
 their paunches. I shot one crippled bull that was 
 war-like, but most of them that was wounded I 
 knowed would die. I wondered how long Mac 
 would follow the herd, how long his hoss would last, 
 and if I'd ought to wait a spell. 
 
 I sat down on a dead cow. Her body was warm 
 and made a comfortable seat. I couldn't see the 
 runners any longer. They had gone over a ridge 
 on the plains. I begun to watch the wolves come 
 up to feed on the kill. There was hundreds of 
 them. No wonder the travois had to come quick. 
 One old dog-wolf, whose ears was gnawed off close 
 to his head, snuffling and smelling at the cow I was 
 sitting on, come up so close that I could see the cen- 
 ter spot in his yellow eyes. Likely he thought I 
 ought to get up and go away from there. I reck- 
 oned I'd kill him. But before I touched the trigger 
 I thought mebby he had a right to take whatever he 
 could get like the rest of us ; and that saved a charge 
 of powder and a ball. 
 
 Eagle cropped the grass while I sat there and 
 held the rope. But I couldn't see anything of Mac. 
 I was getting chilly sitting still, and finally went on 
 towards the place where we had rode at the herd. 
 Dead buffalo was plenty all the way, and when I 
 got to where we had made the surround I counted 
 
246 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 twenty-two on less than an acre. I found the 
 young bull I'd shot and skinned and dressed him. 
 He was fat and all I needed for myse'f. By the 
 time I had the job done Mac and some others was 
 in sight. And the travois was coming too. 
 
 Bluebird was with the first to come up. "How 
 many are yours, Lone Wolf ?" she asked, like she 
 hoped nigh all of them was mine. 
 
 I hated to tell her. 
 
 "Only three," I says. "My rifle is too hard to load 
 on a running horse." 
 
 She noticed the change in the eagle feather and 
 touched it with her fingers. "It come off and I put 
 it back," I told her. 
 
 She unbraided Eagle's mane and did the job over 
 again, so that the feather stuck up and looked 
 pretty. 
 
 "You will find two cows along the line of the run 
 cows that are shot," I says. "They are yours. 
 This bull will be all that I shall need. I have meat 
 enough. Shall I help you find them?" 
 
 "No, no," she objected. "But you are kind to 
 me." 
 
 Was there ever another voice like hers? I thought. 
 
 "See," she said, "the young men are waiting. 
 They have caught your other horse for you to ride 
 to the village." Her eyes looked so happy when she 
 said, "Men are warriors and hunters. Travois be- 
 long to the women. I would not have you help. 
 And see, my mother is coming. She will think me 
 lazy for talking so long." 
 
 She led the travois-hoss a little way towards the 
 center of the kill ; and I led Eagle to where Mac and 
 the others was waiting, and got on my other hoss. 
 
 The young men was happy as we rode off to the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 247 
 
 village, leaving the women and some old men to take 
 care of the meat they had let lie where it fell. I got 
 to thinking about it. They had all the fun and the 
 women did the work, it seemed to me. 
 
 But directly I remembered that the men had 
 something to do, theirse'fs. I figured that to take 
 care of a family, feed it and fight for it like a wolf, 
 was a considerable chore. And when I thought how 
 most In j ins used bows and arrows, even to fight, I 
 reckoned it took a good man to do it. To rustle a 
 living in all seasons and in all kinds of weather 
 with an arrow or a lance was more than I wanted 
 to tackle, let alone being jumped by enemies a dozen 
 times in a year. 
 
 The women worked hard. I knowed that. Dress- 
 ing robes, making clothes, drying meat, and raising 
 children ; but all that was offset by the dangers and 
 hardships of the hunt and war, I figured. Even to 
 ride as the men rode after buffalo was to take des- 
 perate chances, and they had to keep fit for fight 
 every minute, which they did. I'd seen them in the 
 icy water of mornings and their sweat-lodges was 
 too much for me. They could stand more than any 
 men I'd ever knowed; and only work can keep men 
 fit. The reason the women seemed to be doing the 
 biggest share was that when the men got to camp 
 they was through, but the women didn't ever get 
 through. That was it the women always had a 
 chore ahead. Even Bluebird's finger nails was al- 
 ways broke, half spoiling the prettiest-shaped hand 
 I ever saw, and she was always busy at something. 
 
 Then I evened it up in my mind by counting up 
 the blind eyes and scars and broken bones among 
 the men. It seemed to me that there wa'n't much 
 loafing on either side; but nobody was complaining. 
 
248 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Before I let Eagle go out with the herd I took the 
 eagle feather from his mane and hung it on the side 
 of my head-silk. Then I give him a little salt and 
 let him go. He wa'n't tired, but was frisky as ever ; 
 and he had more friends in the village than I did. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 Mac and I sat by the lodge-fire that night and 
 talked of the hunt. "You should learn to use the 
 bow," he says. "It is the best weapon in running 
 the buffalo. You have a good wrist and a strong 
 arm. Dad could use the bow. I have heard them 
 tell that his arrows sank deep. I will teach you. 
 The rifle is not for running buffalo. The bow is 
 best. It is a silent weapon, Lone Wolf. When its 
 arrows go upon their missions they startle none but 
 their victims. The rifle cries aloud that a ball is 
 coming. And even though one may not hear it in 
 time it startles the rest that are near. It even 
 wakes the echoes that drive the game away too soon. 
 It is great in war and to kill far off. But the bow 
 is best for running the buffalo." 
 
 I thought he was right and told him so. But I 
 knowed it took practice to use a bow. 
 
 "See," he said, showing his wrist that was cut 
 and bleeding a little. "I lost my wrist-guard and 
 my bow-string wounded me today. Old Crooked 
 Horns," he laughed, "is wonderful. He beat me, 
 killing fifteen buffalo. And he is old. But his arm 
 and wrist are like the iron of the whiteman and 
 feel not the strain of bending his powerful bow. 
 Crooked Horns will not use an iron point on his 
 arrow. He still makes his arrow points of bone as 
 did his father before the whiteman came. He is 
 old more than, seventy-five snows he has seen. Yet 
 he will use nothing made by the whiteman. His 
 dreams have told him that whitemen are his ene- 
 mies. He is a great hunter and a brave warrior, 
 
 249 
 
250 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 is Crooked Horns. He ran the buffalo alone today, 
 and to westward of the Marias." 
 
 That is their way, always, to own up to a beat- 
 ing. We do not always do it. 
 
 "How shall we go down the river with our fur 
 and robes?" I asked, thinking of the spring. 
 
 "We could make bull-boats, but they are not good 
 for such a trip. Let us travel by land to the Post 
 at the mouth of the Yellowstone with horses and 
 mules, and trade them for a mackinaw if we can." 
 
 "Two of us will not be enough for such a trip," I 
 says, thinking how Dad waited for Alex and Jake 
 before coming on to the Marias. 
 
 "That is true," he answered, "but there are Wood- 
 pecker and Spotted Elk and Standing Bear. They 
 are brothers-in-law of mine and I know that they 
 are good, brave men. I can get them to go with us 
 when the time comes." 
 
 I thought he was right. "When do you think we 
 can finish trading and go?" I asked. 
 
 "When the ice goes from the river and the water 
 begins to rise," he said. "We must start soon after 
 that and travel fast. The country is not good for 
 travellers. Often there are many Indians between 
 this place and the mouth of the Yellowstone. They 
 are at war with strangers. And farther down 
 along the river the whitemen are not all honest. 
 Some there are who would plunder us if they could." 
 
 I knowed he was right; and I thought of such as 
 Mike Fink; but he'd been a pardner of mine, and I 
 didn't speak his name, even to Mac. 
 
 "Shall you come back to the plains, Lone Wolf?" 
 Mac's voice was always low-toned, but now I hardly 
 heered him. 
 
 I didn't want to hurt him. "I do not know. Lit- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 251 
 
 tie Knife," I says. "Sometimes I think I shall not 
 come back." And that was the truth. 
 
 He moved the sticks in the fire. The days had 
 been getting longer and I had noticed too that the 
 nights wa'n't so long. Spring wa'n't so far away. 
 We sat silent, each with his own thoughts, when 
 suddenly there was a great stir in the village. Dogs 
 was howling. 
 
 "Hark!" Mac raised to his knees with his hand 
 behind his ear. I thought of the night in the 
 stockade and stood up. 
 
 Men was calling tp each other. Mac bolted into 
 the dark with me at his heels. We couldn't see any- 
 thing at first. The light of our lodge-fire was still 
 in our eyes. Men was mounting their hosses. 
 "What is the matter?" Mac asked a man who I saw 
 was Fish Hawk. 
 
 "The Blackfeet have stolen many horses and 
 wounded Three Leggings," he says. "We are going 
 after our horses." 
 
 "Let us go with them, Little Knife," I says. 
 "Maybe they have stolen some of ours." 
 
 They'd killed Dad. Hate layed hold of me, and I 
 felt like I did that morning at the gate with Caley 
 Byers, only worse. 
 
 "They have taken two of your mules and several 
 of your horses, the herders say." 
 
 It was Red Robe who answered. Bluebird was 
 by his side, but I hardly saw her. I was thinking 
 of Eagle. What if they'd got him! I run into the 
 lodge for my rifle, feeling mighty anxious, and from 
 there to the rope corral, half afraid I wouldn't find 
 him. 
 
 But I spotted him, quicker'n you could wink, and 
 felt glad all over, while I caught him up and got my 
 
252 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 pad on him. "We'll get even, little boss!" I says, 
 swinging onto him, and I rode up to where Mac and 
 nigh fifty more under Yellow Bear was ready to go. 
 
 The night wa'n't cold; and excepting patches of 
 crusted snow and a few drifts that the coulees shel- 
 tered, the plains was bare. The Northern Lights 
 was playing on the sky northward towards Hud- 
 son's Bay, spreading up and out like a fan. There 
 wa'n't any moon, so that Oo-check-a-tuck, the Big 
 Dipper, was 'specially plain. Every star was out 
 and the sky plumb peppered with them, some look- 
 ing bigger than usual and some so little and dim 
 you couldn't hardly make them out. 
 
 The wind was out of the west, but not very 
 strong, when we crossed the Marias and whipped 
 up. Some scouts was ahead of us. I could see them 
 dim under the stars. After crossing the stream we 
 rode faster. The Blackfeet wa'n't half an hour 
 ahead of us and we figured on overhauling them, 
 they having to drive the stolen bosses. 
 
 But for more than an hour we didn't see hide nor 
 hair of them. I was beginning to reckon they'd 
 got away, when from the top of a knoll two scouts 
 sighted the flying pony band and waited till we 
 come up. Yellow Bear sent ten men straight after 
 them, and the rest of us turned off to try to ride 
 around the stolen pony band and head it back. 
 
 I leaned low over Eagle's neck. "Now!" I says, 
 and let plumb loose of the rope. He knowed what 
 was wanted; and I begun to draw away from the 
 rest. I passed the ten Crees and come abreast of 
 the Blackfeet. An arrow zipped in front of my 
 face. I felt the wind of its feathers and bent lower. 
 The Blackfeet was yelling. Shots flashed behind 
 the pony band. They cracked loud above the steady 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 253 
 
 roar of pounding hoofs. But if they was shooting 
 at me I didn't know it, nor care. 
 
 The Crees was behind me and coming, but Eagle 
 was gaining on the band at every jump. I'd passed 
 the Blackf eet and was abreast of the trailers in the 
 pony band, when an arrow pinned my shirt sleeve 
 to my pad, thud! I reached over and broke the 
 shaft to free my arm. I'd get me one of them yet, 
 if only I could turn the pony band. I thought of 
 Mike Fink even excusing him for notching his 
 rifle-stock. Then I touched Eagle's sides with my 
 heels. The wind whistled in my hair. I was creep- 
 ing up, up, up, as steady as a clock ticks and as sure. 
 "Oh, stand it, little man! stand it for old Dad's 
 sake!" I whispered, and felt myse'f tighten up to 
 he'p him. The leaders of the band wa'n't far ahead. 
 I gathered my rope to be ready to swing him, and 
 untied my shirt. Only three more to pass only 
 two only one but they was so close-bunched I 
 daren't cut in between them, lest I make a fizzle of 
 it. I got one arm out of my shirt, then pulled it 
 off. It was like I'd spurred him. He sprung for- 
 ward and a fleck of hot foam struck my cheek. His 
 nose went ahead of the leader's like he was standing 
 still. I swung my shirt over my head and yelled. 
 The leader swerved off and turned back towards 
 the Marias with the whole band at his heels. He'd 
 done it. The little hoss had beat them all ! 
 
 "Lone Wolf ! Lone Wolf !" they cried behind me. 
 And the Crees come thundering up, sweeping the 
 pony band with them. 
 
 But with the runaway band turned, the Blackfeet 
 was trapped. There was shots and shouts and war 
 clubs swinging and arrows zipping like all get out, 
 
254 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 and the Blackfeet broke and ran in every direction, 
 followed by Crees. 
 
 I pulled up. I wa'n't going to kill Eagle, even to 
 get me a Blackfoot. And in less time than I can 
 say it in I was plumb alone. It seemed like I'd 
 been lifted in a second out of a whirling, yelling 
 bedlam and dropped down in a still place that no 
 living man had ever seen. I heered two or three 
 shots, but they was faint and far off. Eagle's sides 
 was heaving, so I got down to walk and rest him. 
 The wind come in little gusts and when I stepped 
 on spots of snow the crust broke and made a noise. 
 The Northern Lights had quit playing, but there 
 was still a greenish glow on the sky to northward 
 when I set out for the Marias, wondering if Mac 
 was all right and wishing he was with me. But if 
 he had followed the Blackfeet I couldn't have hoped 
 to overtake him. 
 
 I figured that I'd turn and cut south a little, keep- 
 ing a sharp look-out around me. Directly I saw 
 four little knots on the rim of a knolltop between 
 me and the sky. I stopped and watched them. One 
 of them moved a little and then I knowed they was 
 only wolves and went on. 
 
 I crossed the knoll, stopping to look and listen on 
 its top. But there wa'n't a sound, only the wind, 
 so I started on. Suddenly, though, Eagle stopped 
 in his tracks. His ears was pricked forward and 
 his nostrils working like a dog's. I heered a hoss 
 coming over the frozen ground and cocked my rifle. 
 Directly I could see him. He was headed straight 
 for me. But he turned off at the foot of the knoll 
 and I made out that he was a loose hoss trailing a 
 rope. He was out of sight almost as soon as I saw 
 him, but I heered him for quite a spell. When I 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 255 
 
 started on I was mighty careful. Somebody was 
 down and afoot. I knowed that; and I reckoned I 
 might meet up with him. 
 
 Directly I come to a little knoll with a flat place 
 on its top. Right at the edge of the flat both Eagle 
 and I stopped sudden, like we was grabbed and 
 held. Something moved just ahead. It was against 
 the background of a higher knoll. I couldn't make 
 it out. Directly it moved again. And then I saw 
 another black form stir and bend over. It was a 
 man. They was both men. I cocked my rifle and 
 squatted, quiet, just as they rushed together and 
 clinched, bending and twisting. They was coming 
 my way. I rested my elbows on my knee, ready. 
 They stopped, straining like pulling hosses. I could 
 hear their panting breath and smell blood. An arm 
 raised up and went down, thud! 
 
 "Ahh! dog of a Blackfoot!" 
 
 The words was gasped out, and they was Cree. 
 
 The two was stone-still a minute. Then they 
 staggered apart for wind like two fighting dogs that 
 won't quit. Both was naked and so blind with hate 
 that a buffalo herd could have passed unnoticed. 
 One laughed, the one nighest to me, and cold shivers 
 went up my backbone. It was like a whip-lash to 
 the other. He rushed and they clinched again. I 
 couldn't tell which was the Cree. 
 
 For a moment they struggled, trying to stab, but 
 not moving either way. Then they come on, one, 
 the laugher, being forced backward and backward, 
 his breath hissing in his awful effort to hold his 
 ground, till his heels was plumb against a sage- 
 bush. I held my breath. Was it the Cree? 
 
 There was a sudden lunge and they went over, the 
 laugher underneath, not ten feet away, and heads 
 
256 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 towards me. I could hear my own heart beat. My 
 finger was on the trigger. Which was the Cree? I 
 had to know. 
 
 The man on top begun to raise his knife, slow. 
 I saw it plain when he wiped the blood from his 
 eyes with his bare arm, and the stain on his wrist. 
 Words muttered with burning hate come from be- 
 tween his teeth. They wa'n't Cree words! And I 
 pulled the trigger. Eagle jumped at the flash of the 
 gun, and the man with the knife rolled over. I'd 
 got my Blackfoot 'thout trying. 
 
 I stood up and commenced to reload, watching 
 the two forms on the ground. One moved, the one 
 that had laughed, the Cree. "How!" I says, prim- 
 ing my rifle pan. 
 
 "How, how! Paok Mah-he-ean!" 
 
 The voice was weak. I went over to his side and 
 lifted his head. It was Yellow Bear. 
 
 "Rest," I says. "I will wait while you rest." 
 
 But he sat up and looked at his enemy. "That 
 was a great warrior," he said, his voice full of ad- 
 miration. "He was brave and strong. I shall take 
 his scalp when I have rested." 
 
 He was bleeding bad, and I counted his hurts, six 
 of them two arrows and four knife-wounds, 
 enough to kill two ordinary men. 
 
 I cut up my shirt and bound up his cuts the best 
 I could so as to stop some of the blood. 
 
 "My life belongs to you, Lone Wolf," he says. 
 And directly he got to his feet. 
 
 "Get on my horse," I urged him. 
 
 But he took the scalp of the dead Blackfoot, and 
 turning towards the Marias, says, "No, I am strong. 
 I will walk. It was the white horse that turned the 
 stolen band. Let him rest." 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 257 
 
 So we walked slow, looking out for bosses as we 
 went. "Fish Hawk is dead," said Yellow Bear, 
 after a long silence. "There will be mourning in 
 the village. But you are now a warrior, Lone Wolf, 
 and my life belongs to you." 
 
 "It was chance," I told him, "just chance that led 
 me towards you while you fought. I was not guided 
 by sounds." 
 
 "No, it was not chance, Lone Wolf," he said. And 
 he meant it. "It was to be so. It was not my time 
 to die, although I thought that it was. Let us rest. 
 I am dizzy." 
 
 We sat down in a coulee out of the wind that was 
 freshening some, and Yellow Bear filled and lit his 
 war-pipe. "Smoke, brother, warrior," he said. 
 
 And I took it from his hand. Somehow I sud- 
 dently felt like I was part of the plains like I had 
 always been a plainsman, and wanted to stay one! 
 
 The stars was fading out of the sky. Day wa'n't 
 far off. I wished it would come on. I knowed 
 Yellow Bear was bad off and suffering, though he 
 didn't whimper. I covered him with a robe that 
 was under Eagle's pad and went up on the top of a 
 ridge to look for Crees. I knowed they would soon 
 be hunting for us. The sky was showing day and 
 the wind was coming stronger and from the east. 
 I was cold without my shirt, but I thought how Yel- 
 low Bear had called me warrior, and stood the wind 
 on my bare hide like it was summer. 
 
 I could see the Marias, and while I looked hard I 
 saw riders coming. I didn't wait but run back to 
 Yellow Bear. "They are coming!" I cried; and he 
 got up, but wouldn't get on Eagle no matter how 
 much I begged him. 
 
 The Crees had reckoned I'd been killed and Mac 
 
258 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 was nigh tickled to death when he saw me. They 
 led Eagle like he was tribal property and a prize. 
 I felt mighty proud and I don't deny it. There 
 never was a better little hoss. 
 
 We rode into the village just as daylight was com- 
 ing on. Everybody was out. Two was badly 
 wounded besides Yellow Bear, and Fish Hawk was 
 dead. But they sang of victory even Yellow Bear. 
 When he come to the Chief's lodge he stopped and, 
 still lashed to his hoss, begun to talk and sing. 
 
 "It was Lone Wolf who turned the flying horses ! 
 It was Lone Wolf who saved my life! His bullet 
 went straight in the darkness and a Blackf oot war- 
 rior died ! Lone Wolf is brave and a warrior ; my 
 life belongs to him. Let all my relations remember 
 him as my brother ! I have finished." 
 
 Then he rode oif to his lodge. 
 
 Cracky! I'll never again feel like I did then. I 
 was proud a-plenty and grateful too, though I 
 hadn't done much myse'f . Eagle did the most. But 
 I didn't say so; I let it go. 
 
 A bright fire was burning in the Chief's lodge and 
 the old man stepped out. "How! Lone Wolf, war- 
 rior!" he says, and he handed me a painted robe 
 while a lot of young men and women looked and 
 smiled, as happy as I was. They crowded around 
 me, all talking at once. But I got down and made 
 my way to my lodge with Eagle. I would cover him 
 with robes and keep him near me. 
 
 When I come out with the robes Bluebird was by 
 his side, emptying a robeful of grass on the ground 
 at his feet. 
 
 "I heard of your wonderful ride before you 
 reached the village," she said. "See, I have cut 
 grass for your Eagle, that so great a horse may 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 259 
 
 feast." She put her little hand on his neck and he 
 went after the grass greedily. 
 
 "Thank you," I said, tying a robe over Eagle's 
 back. I couldn't think of anything worth while to 
 say. 
 
 She begun to braid Eagle's mane, looking over 
 his neck at me. "I heard what Yellow Bear said 
 and saw Big Bear give you the painted robe," she 
 told me. And there was pride in her eyes when 
 she looked down at the grass she had cut. She be- 
 gun another braid, her fingers working swift and 
 without the guide of her glance. "Yellow Bear is 
 my father's youngest brother, Lone Wolf, warrior; 
 and I am proud that you are my friend." Her voice 
 barely reached me across Eagle's white neck. 
 
 I leaned forwards sudden and reached for her 
 hand, but she drew it away. "Come into my lodge, 
 Bluebird," I begged. "Come, and pick what you 
 will for a present." 
 
 "No, no," she said, stepping backward. "I can- 
 not," looking straight into my eyes. "I must go 
 now. But my father would be glad to see you in 
 his lodge to talk and smoke with you and hear you 
 tell of your ride and the fight. You are hungry." 
 She moved towards me again and her voice fell to 
 that tone I liked so well. "There is no fire in your 
 lodge, no meat," she said. "Will you come to my 
 father's lodge now?" She was backing away again, 
 still looking into my eyes. How pretty she was, 
 and how little ! "Shall I tell my father that you are 
 coming?" she asked, and turned away from me. 
 
 "Yes," I told her. "I will come." 
 
 My arm was around Eagle's neck and I watched 
 her go to her father's lodge and disappear inside. 
 
 When she was gone Mac raised his lodge door 
 
260 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 and stepped out. "How! Lone Wolf, warrior!" 
 He came to me. "I would have been first to greet 
 you," he said, "but an arrow wounded my arm and 
 my woman was binding it up." He held out his arm, 
 but I knowed why he hadn't come to me sooner and 
 wondered if he'd heered what Bluebird had said. 
 
 "I am going to Red Robe's lodge to feast," I told 
 him, half daring him to smile or plague me. But 
 he tightened the thongs that held Eagle's robe and 
 when he spoke it was of the hoss himse'f. 
 
 "Nothing can beat him," ha says, patting his 
 neck. "I feel as proud as yourself over his great 
 run. I shall spend the night with you ; but you will 
 be long at Red Robe's lodge. The day is yet young. 
 Do not hurry. I shall have a fire waiting for you 
 when you have feasted." 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 There never was a more comfortable lodge than 
 Red Robe's. It was large and roomy and taller than 
 most of the others. Its painted lining was of 
 dressed elk skins smoked to a rich yellow and deco- 
 rated with pictures of the old warrior's deeds in 
 war, done in red and blue. And it was in order; 
 not topsy-turvy like some I'd seen. 
 
 There was parfleches filled with pemmican lean 
 meat cut thin and dried and pounded to a pulp, with 
 melted back-fat and dried berries poured on it and 
 mixed. It's good grub to do a hard ride on, for a 
 little of it goes a long way towards keeping a man's 
 stomach from gnawing. There was three bales of 
 prime beaver skins done up fine, to pay the trader 
 at the Ashley-Henry Post at the mouth of the Yel- 
 lowstone. They was the first things he showed me, 
 being plumb tickled because he could pay for the 
 goods he had bought in the fall. He looked mighty 
 comfortable leaning against his willow back-rest, 
 his weapons ready at hand and his family about his 
 bright fire. Anybody could see that he was a good 
 provider and that his was a contented household. 
 
 The women his woman and Bluebird and Sits- 
 and-Sings was busy making moccasins. The other 
 children was younger and was hot at the ring-and- 
 arrow game when I come in. It made me feel right 
 good to see them ; and when I leaned against a back- 
 rest beside Red Robe at the head of the lodge I sure 
 thought I'd never before been in so cozy a place. 
 
 We feasted. I was hungry as a wolf and Blue- 
 bird made some black tea that was better than any 
 
 261 
 
262 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 I'd ever tasted. Red Robe had traded for the tea 
 at a Hudson's Bay Post up north. It was strong 
 and had a fine flavor. 
 
 When he lit the pipe and passed it he asked me 
 to tell the story of the race to turn the stolen hosses 
 and about the fight. I told it, but I didn't make a 
 long yarn of it, and he said so. He told me that 
 Yellow Bear was bad hurt and might not get well. 
 I proposed we go and see him and he said he would 
 go with me after we'd finished talking. 
 
 He spoke to Bluebird and she fetched a parfleche 
 to him. He unlaced it and spread it out so I could 
 see what was in it. His war-bonnet, shirt, leg- 
 gings, fancy bullet-pouch, and pretty moccasins, and 
 a lot of other finery. He took out an eagle's wing, 
 all worked with colored porcupine quills up and 
 down the quill of each feather, and give it to me. 
 He said that none but a warrior could carry such 
 a thing, and that whenever I sat with warriors 
 about a fire I had a right to hold the wing. Next 
 he give me an eagle feather to put in my hair and 
 showed me how to wear it crosswise, or sticking 
 out from one side of my head. That meant I'd 
 killed an enemy in battle. If the feather was worn 
 straight up behind the head it meant you'd killed 
 three enemies in fight. In between the straight-up 
 position and the crosswise showed that you'd got 
 two enemies in close conflict. He taught me the 
 paint-marks on hosses too, and I was surprised to 
 learn that each had a meaning of its own. 
 
 We smoked two pipes and then he showed me his 
 leggings. "Bluebird made these," he says, laying 
 them across my knees. 
 
 They was beautiful things. The design and 
 colors beat any I'd ever seen, and I said so. I looked 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 263 
 
 at her, but her head was bent over her work and 
 her needle never missed a lick, nor she didn't look 
 up. 
 
 "Where did you learn this design, Bluebird?" I 
 asked her. 
 
 She stuck her needle into the elk-skin and looked 
 at me. Her eyes was shining like her mind was 
 full of words. Her father smiled good-natured and 
 nodded like he would listen to what she said. 
 
 "Look, Lone Wolf," she says, "and you will find 
 it and others as beautiful. They are everywhere 
 in the forests, on the plains, on the ice when the 
 frost has worked its magic under the moon, and 
 even in the white snow-flakes that fall and drifting 
 deep, make life a battle." 
 
 "But the colors?" I says. "How did you learn 
 to use them so skillfully?" 
 
 I saw her bosom rise and fall quick. She wanted 
 to talk. If only we was alone ! 
 
 "Paok Mah-he-can, if you do not look for much 
 you will see but little. The colors are upon the 
 plains and in the forests. It is there that we learn 
 to use them. Napa has painted the bird-people and 
 the animal-people. Carefully has he made the 
 colors to blend. And we have but to copy his work 
 to do well. Some of the least things are the most 
 beautiful. Upon the backs and wings of moths and 
 butterflies are wonderful designs where colors 
 blend. And so cunningly has he made them that we 
 cannot follow the wearer always. They beautify 
 and yet hide him from sight. Only the sharp eye 
 can see. Only the trained ear hears the sounds 
 that attend the beautiful of the forests and plains. 
 Manitou would have the beauty wrought by His 
 servant Napa admired. It was intended to com- 
 
264 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 mand our admiration. There is beauty for every 
 sense: the eye, the ear, the tongue, and the body 
 itself. Is it not wrong to close the eye to beauty 
 and the nose to the perfumes which the flowers give 
 to the winds?" 
 
 She stopped and her head again bent over her 
 work. I could see the red part in her hair. 
 
 "I am afraid that I have not noticed the bugs and 
 worms," I says, feeling I'd missed a good deal, "but 
 after this I will notice them. You will show me 
 the designs, won't you, Bluebird?" 
 
 She laughed softly and raised her head There 
 was merriment in her eyes now, and mischief. "I 
 cannot make you see beauty with honest eyes," she 
 said, so low I scarcely heered her. "If you do not 
 find beauty for yourself how could you know that I 
 did not lie when I declared it to be before your 
 eyes? Most things grow in beauty for those who 
 pause to look upon them. But to the hawk no bird 
 is beautiful, save those of his own tribe. Yet the 
 little birds he preys upon bathe and plume them- 
 selves. They do not do this to be beautiful in the 
 eyes of the hawk-people, but to those who know 
 beauty and love it." She turned the moccasin she 
 was making inside out and inspected her work, then 
 layed it away. 
 
 She knowed I belonged to another race a peo- 
 ple who don't take the time to learn the little things 
 in the great out-of-doors and her words, gentle as 
 they was, pricked and shamed me. I felt like I'd 
 been petted and scolded, all in one just like I did 
 when Aunt Lib jawed me for wearing my boots in 
 the front room. But I didn't like it when she com- 
 pared white folks to hawks; and I was willing to 
 bet that was what she meant to do. "Let us go to 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 265 
 
 the lodge of Yellow Bear," I says, turnng to Red 
 Robe. 
 
 "Ho!" he laughed, like he'd noticed that I wa'n't 
 altogether tickled at what Bluebird had said; and 
 we went out oi; the lodge. 
 
 The sun was bright and warm and the ice on the 
 big river soggy-looking and nigh the color of lead, 
 so that I knowed the spring wa'n't far off. 
 
 Yellow Bear was in bad shape, but he was glad 
 to see us, especially me, and told his woman to give 
 me his best leggings. He said no word about his 
 suffering and his eyes brightened when we spoke 
 of the fight. "See," he said, pointing to a fresh 
 scalp sewed in a little hoop of willow that hung on 
 his coup-stick, "that is the scalp of a brave man." 
 
 He asked how I'd fared and if I wanted anything. 
 I told him that I'd feasted and that I was happy to 
 see him alive. 
 
 "I shall get well," he said, "and be as good as 
 ever. Do not worry about me." 
 
 His family treated me with a heap of respect and 
 waited on me every chance that offered. There was 
 three boys and two girls, the oldest a girl about 
 Bluebird's age, I reckoned. 
 
 While we was talking Black Bear come into the 
 lodge with his rattle and medicine sack. He told 
 us to go away, and the family followed us out, leav- 
 ing the old medicine-man alone with his patient. 
 
 Directly I could hear Black Bear singing and 
 Shaking his rattle to drive away the pain. But 
 Aunt Lib believed that a soiled stocking tied around 
 a sore throat would work a cure, so I didn't see 
 that our kind had much to brag about. Besides, 
 the In j ins do as they please in such matters and 
 
266 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 allow others equal privilege without cutting their 
 acquaintance or branding them as fools. 
 
 Yellow Bear's family went visiting friends while 
 the medicine-man worked his charms, and Red Robe 
 and I went to my lodge where Mac had a fire burn- 
 ing. The old warrier stayed more than an hour, 
 smoking with us and visiting. Then he went out, 
 and Mac with him. 
 
 Eagle had finished the cut grass and was pawing 
 for company. I knowed how he felt and went out- 
 side and turned him loose to go out with the pony 
 band. He didn't wait, I can tell you, but whinny- 
 ing at nigh every jump, he tore out to find his own 
 kind. 
 
 I reckoned that was what I would do as soon as 
 the ice went out of the river. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 Mac didn't come back that night, and I turned in 
 pretty early, but I didn't go to sleep till nigh mid- 
 night. I got to running over what Bluebird had 
 said. And I reckoned that every word was true. 
 Mebby she did intend to liken me and my kind to 
 the hawks, but I reckoned that after all, we was 
 hawks. We prey upon everything and mighty nigh 
 everybody that will stand it. And I didn't know 
 anything about the beauty on the plains and in the 
 forest. I hadn't ever noticed never cared, when a 
 buck antelope was dead, to notice his markings. It 
 was meat that I wanted. 
 
 Mebby I was missing a heap. I would pay at- 
 tention to everything I saw from now on. I made 
 up my mind to that. I could think of more than a 
 dozen birds and animals with fine colorings, some 
 even as bright as all get out, that did seem to hide 
 the wearer, though once you got your eyes on them 
 you couldn't lose them if you tried. Things did grow 
 in beauty if you only knowed beauty when you saw 
 it. I reckoned that Bluebird was right, and that I 
 would like to talk to her again. "Lone Wolf, if you 
 do not look for much you will see but little," was the 
 last thing I remembered before I went to sleep. 
 
 Mac waked me early by kindling a fire in the 
 lodge. "Yellow Bear is better this morning," he 
 said when I sat up. "He is glad of your visit of 
 yesterday. You are a warrior now, and he has sent 
 you the scalp of the Blackfoot you killed." 
 
 I didn't want the thing, and said so, but Mac hung 
 267 
 
268 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 it on my back-rest with the eagle's wing, and I let 
 it stay there. 
 
 That day we traded a lot, and every man that 
 come into the lodge said something about the scalp, 
 and I saw that it he'ped make friends with the 
 Crees, though I reckoned it might be different with 
 the Blackf eet. 
 
 Towards sundown Black Bear sent me a painted 
 shield made from the skin of an old buffalo bull's 
 neck, that would glance an arrow if it wa'n't com- 
 ing straight on, and even then, sometimes. 
 
 Everybody wanted to smoke with me and talk 
 about Eagle. I never did see such a change in peo- 
 ple. They had always been pleasant, but now they 
 was plumb friendly, and there wa'n't anything in 
 reason that they wouldn't do for me if I asked them. 
 
 By night we had traded off a right smart of our 
 goods. It seemed like everybody wanted to trade 
 at once, so that when Mac and I turned in there 
 wa'n't more than a quarter of our goods left in the 
 lodge. We went at it and baled up our fur and 
 robes, but we tired before it was finished. I begun 
 to feel perter ; and Mac was so plumb tickled that I 
 was glad I was there and responsible for his happi- 
 ness. I slept sound all night and beat Mac making 
 the fire when morning come. It was only breaking 
 day when I lit it, and we hustled up our breakfast 
 and went to baling fur and robes again. 
 
 The spare guns was all gone, except the scatter- 
 gun. We had never used it yet, and I wanted to 
 trade it off, but Mac said it was big medicine and 
 we kept it, though I figured it was only in the way. 
 I kept Dad's rifle cleaned up and oiled, like he did, 
 and figured on keeping it always. 
 
 I needed some moccasins and reckoned I would 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 269 
 
 get a dozen pairs so that I would have enough to last 
 me clean to St. Louis. And I would buy them of 
 Bluebird. I didn't tell Mac, but when he'd gone to 
 his lodge I slipped over to Red Robe's and put in 
 my order. 
 
 Neither Red Robe nor his woman was in the 
 lodge, though the other children was there with 
 Bluebird. She measured my feet and promised to 
 set to work making me twelve pairs of moccasins. 
 "Are you going to war that you need so many at 
 one time?" she laughed. 
 
 "No," I says, "only to St. Louis with our robes 
 and fur when the time comes." 
 
 She looked straight into my eyes. "And shall 
 you come back to the plains, Lone Wolf?" she asked. 
 
 "I do not know," I told her. "Sometimes I think 
 that I shall stay among my own people. Then 
 sometimes I believe that I shall want to come back 
 here. I do not know, Bluebird." 
 
 She laid a stick on the lodge-fire. "Tell me, if 
 you will, of the whiteman's God," she said in that 
 soft voice that I liked to hear. 
 
 It was only fair. And I told her the best I could, 
 and all that I could. She didn't miss a word. She 
 was all attention, her eyes hardly winking till I 
 was through. I knowed that it wa'n't a good job 
 I'd done, but it was the first time I had even thought 
 what it means to be asked to tell about our God or 
 our beliefs; so I hardly knowed where to begin or 
 to end. 
 
 The fire popped and snapped, but there waVt 
 another sound in the lodge while I was talking. 
 Bluebird's arm slipped softly around the waist of 
 Sits-and-Sings. They leaned their heads together 
 so that their hair touched ; and even the small chil- 
 
270 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 dren was so still that I forgot they was there. Even 
 after I'd finished they didn't move for a spell, and 
 their faces was solemn and puzzled. A stick rolled 
 off the fire and Bluebird put it back. 
 
 "I have thought, oh, many times, that the white- 
 man's God must be powerful, for His people do won- 
 derful things," she said. And then, like she wanted 
 to believe in Him but daren't, she asked, "But how 
 can a Man-god be greater than Manitou, when He, 
 your God, is part of All is Manitou?" 
 
 I knowed there wa'n't any use in trying to an- 
 swer that. I knowed, too, that they was honest in 
 their beliefs, and that they respected the beliefs of 
 others. "Tell me of Manitou," I said. 
 
 She drew away from Sits-and-Sings, as though if 
 in speaking she herse'f did wrong, no blame could 
 come to her sister. 
 
 "We do not speak His name often," she began 
 softly. "The sun, the earth, and everything that lives 
 is Manitou, even the ants and the tiny things that 
 live under the leaves that lie on the ground beneath 
 the forest trees." Her eyes shone bright and her 
 lips trembled with earnestness. "Greater and more 
 wonderful than the moon and stars is the sun, but 
 All is Manitou. The Sun, the father, makes the 
 grass and the flowers to grow upon Earth, the 
 mother, of all things. And through the great Sun 
 we thank Manitou with the Sun-dance each year. 
 Always when medicine-men or warriors smoke they 
 pray. To smoke is to pray, for the thoughts of the 
 smoker are softened and are kind. And kind 
 thoughts are prayers, for they are good." 
 
 "Why then dare the people kill the buffalo if the 
 buffalo, being a part of All, are Manitou?" I asked, 
 wondering how a man could dare to hurt his God. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 271 
 
 "The buffalo strive to live as we do. Striving to 
 keep alive is payment for life's breath. Manitou 
 knows when it is time for His creatures to die. He 
 has made nearly everything to prey upon other, 
 weaker things. But they all live again, so that noth- 
 ing of Manitou is lost. How could it be?" 
 
 "Why then, if everything lives again do warriors 
 fight to live this life?" I asked her. 
 
 "Because they are afraid not to love this life 
 given them by Manitou. It is He who sets the num- 
 ber of their days, and they do all in their power to 
 keep their breath in their bodies until he calls. 
 Then, no matter when or how it comes, death takes 
 them to the Shadow-hills where the summer stays 
 forever." 
 
 She stopped speaking. The lodge door had lifted. 
 Red Robe come in. 
 
 "How, how, Lone Wolf," he greeted me, sitting 
 down by my side. "Let us smoke," he says, and 
 got out his pipe. 
 
 I didn't stay long; and when I got back to the 
 lodge Mac had been there and had gone again. I 
 reckoned that he wouldn't come back that night, so 
 I cooked and ate my supper. Along about eight 
 o'clock, I reckon, the wind begun to blow like all 
 get out, and when I went to bed the village dogs 
 begun to howl. They pestered me; and the lodge 
 shook now and again, till I got up and smoked a 
 pipe. When I turned in again I went to sleep. But 
 I had a bad dream. 
 
 I thought that I was at home. It was Sunday 
 morning and we was all going to church at the 
 Crossing. The road was dusty and the wild flow- 
 ers that stuck through between the rails of the 
 worm-fence along the way was all grimy. Then 
 
272 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 the bell in the little log church begun to ring. It 
 was tolling. And Bugle under the wagon behind 
 old Tom and Becky, begun to howl. Aunt Lib said 
 it was a scandal and blamed me, but somehow I 
 couldn't stop Bugle's voice till I saw Joshua Moulds. 
 Then I managed it, but I didn't know how. We 
 went into the church and I couldn't breathe, the air 
 was so hot and filled with the perfume of flowers. 
 
 It wa'n't a regular service. It was a funeral. 
 I wished they would open the windows. I couldn't 
 stand it a minute longer. I would tip-toe out and 
 wait under the trees. 
 
 Just as I moved to go Bluebird stood up before 
 the congregation. I sunk back in my seat. How 
 did she get there? Somebody was crying soft down 
 nigh the front. Bluebird raised her right hand, 
 palm outward, and the crying stopped. Everybody 
 was still as death, and the heated air nigh smoth- 
 ered me. "How can a Man-god be greater than 
 Manitou, when He, your God, is a part of All is 
 Manitou?" Her voice was soft and sweet. There 
 wa'n't anything ornery in it, and her eyes was mild 
 and looked inquiring about the room, as though they 
 begged an answer. The people stirred, and the cry- 
 ing commenced again. I heered the scrape of heavy 
 boots on the puncheon floor, like the men was 
 angry. My face burned and I sunk lower behind 
 the back of my seat. She shouldn't have followed 
 me. I would crawl down the aisle and leave her 
 there. I tried to move, but something held me 
 down. Then a man stood up in the church, a man 
 with the face of a fiend. A great livid scar 
 stretched from his thick lips to a staring eye that 
 didn't wink. The fiddler! The fiddler at the Post ! 
 I would save her from him. Who was holding me? 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 273 
 
 God! The fiddler grabbed at Bluebird, caught one 
 of her black braids of hair in his dirty hand. She 
 cried out. I wrenched loose. 
 
 My head struck against a lodge-pole. For more 
 than a minute I didn't know where I was. Sweat 
 was dripping from my forehead and I was wet as 
 though I'd been in a sweat-lodge. Cracky! I was 
 as weak as a cat and scared as a little boy. But I 
 soon found what had brought on the dream. A bale 
 of buffalo-robes had turned over and fell on my 
 face while I slept, nigh smothering me. 
 
 I kindled the fire and smoked. I knowed that 
 fiddler would ha'nt my dreams some night before I 
 died. Cracky ! what a face he had. 
 
 When the fire burned bright I got to running 
 over my dream, and Bluebird's question kept com- 
 ing back. Wolves was howling above the wind and 
 the village dogs had quit. A feeling of sure enough 
 homesickness settled down on me, and I wanted to 
 go back. I would go back, and I'd stay there. I 
 made up my mind to that. 
 
 Then at last I turned in once more and slept till 
 plumb daylight. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 March come and it snowed again. A darker, 
 meaner morning couldn't have been. When I went 
 down to the river for water all signs of spring was 
 buried, and it looked as though winter had just 
 begun. The wind howled and the snow was piled 
 about the lodges, like it would plumb hide them out 
 of sight by night. The smoke that come out of their 
 tops was snatched by the gale before it got fairly 
 outside, and whipped in every direction. Here and 
 there about the village a hoss, tied up, stood with 
 his back humped and his four feet in a pile, like 
 misery on dress parade. 
 
 I wa'n't in a good humor, noway. The storm that 
 wiped out the signs of spring, and the sight of the 
 snowed-in lodges made me hate the plains. Yes- 
 terday I'd thought that the winter was dead. Now 
 I could have swore that the plains had never knowed 
 a summer's day. 
 
 I turned back with a kettle of water. It bumped 
 and slopped against a rose bush and out jumped a 
 red fox. He sank nigh out of sight in the snow 
 and wallowed. There was feathers sticking to his 
 whiskers, and I looked into the rose bush and found 
 he'd been eating a willow grouse while the blowing 
 snow covered him up. I thought of the chance he'd 
 taken with the village dogs, in looking for his break- 
 fast. But all life was a chance on the plains. The 
 grouse driven into the rose bush for shelter couldn't 
 save himse'f from the fox, though he had tried. I 
 wondered if he would live again. I couldn't see 
 why he shouldn't if we did. God made both of us, 
 
 274 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 275 
 
 and I reckoned it wa'n't becoming of us to promise 
 only ourse'fs a hereafter, mebby. It sure was fair, 
 anyway, to believe that way, and it didn't seem so 
 much like setting ourse'fs ahead of all other crea- 
 tions of the Almighty. Mebby He saved birds as 
 well as men. And then I thought of Mike Fink. 
 
 I scraped away the snow nigh my lodge door so 
 folks would know I was up and stirring; then I 
 broiled a steak and had my breakfast with some 
 tea for trimming. 
 
 Directly I heered a woman laughing two of 
 them. And I went out to see what was going on. 
 
 Bluebird and Sits-and-Sings was rolling in the 
 snow, each trying to bury the other and both nigh 
 choked with laughing. Red Robe with the snow 
 above his knees was watching them, his face full of 
 fun, and nothing at all on him except his leggings 
 and breech-clout. 
 
 I went closer and Red Robe greeted me. Then 
 both of the girls, as though they'd planned it there 
 in the snow, bounced up and tackled me. It was 
 mighty sudden, so I had my hands plumb full to 
 keep my feet. Mac and his woman and children 
 come out to look on, and of all the laughing I ever 
 heered it was then. At last I got them down and 
 held them, and they was worse than bob-cats to 
 hold; but as soon as they layed still, I let them up. 
 We was all panting like running buffalo; and the 
 bad humor that had got out of bed with me was 
 plumb gone. 
 
 There was snow in Bluebird's hair and her face 
 was wet, but her eyes sparkled and danced with fun. 
 I had never seen eyes that laughed like hers. 
 
 I pulled my head-silk off and begun to brush the 
 snow from her back. Her laugh quit when I 
 
276 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 touched her, but I could hear her breathing fast. 
 Directly she turned and faced me, and I went on 
 brushing, even after the snow was all off. 
 
 "That was great fun," she smiled, and catching 
 hold of my arm, "You have finished, Lone Wolf," 
 she says. "Come into the lodge and smoke with my 
 father." 
 
 I shook my head-silk and put it on. My own hair 
 was full of snow and wet. Not a soul was in sight 
 except Bluebird. They had gone into their lodges 
 and left us. She moved towards the lodge like she 
 expected me to follow. 
 
 "Will you tell me about the bluebirds if I come?" 
 I asked her. 
 
 She turned her head and tipped it to one side, 
 like. Cracky! I though I'd like to kiss her. I 
 reckoned she'd never heered of kissing. 
 
 "Maybe," she said, in that voice that was so low 
 I wondered how I heered it above the storm. 
 
 They made room for us at the lodge fire. Just 
 as we sat down a strong gust jerked at the thongs 
 that held the poles to the ground, as though the 
 storm was warning us to be thankful for shelter. 
 I was afraid mebby the lodge would turn over. 
 "This is a bad storm," I says, taking off my head- 
 silk again to dry it by the fire. 
 
 "Yes." Red Robe glanced at the thongs. "The 
 buffalo may drift far in this weather." 
 
 "I hate strong wind and deep snow," I says, turn- 
 ing my head-silk. 
 
 "Let me braid your hair." Bluebird moved to my 
 side and with a comb made from the tail of a porcu- 
 pine, begun to straighten out the tangles. Then 
 when her slender fingers begun to work, she said, 
 "Lone Wolf, it is not good to cry out against the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 277 
 
 seasons. It is well to be silent when we are trou- 
 bled or in pain. If the grass is poor the buffalo 
 seek another and better range. If they cannot find 
 it, they die. If one buffalo is badly wounded he fol- 
 lows the rest as best he can without troubling the 
 others. When he can keep up no longer he falls 
 behind and dies. Shall the buffalo be more patient 
 in the sight of Manitou than we are, Paok Mah-he- 
 can?" 
 
 She fastened the end of the braid with sinew and 
 begun to make the other. She was petting and 
 scolding again, but I knowed she was right this 
 time. A man hadn't ought to complain against 
 what he can't he'p, noway. 
 
 Then, as though she knowed my thoughts, she 
 said, "It is useless to cry out against things we can- 
 not prevent. To do so is but to waste the very 
 breath that might give us strength to stifle a groan 
 that would torment our friends or please our ene- 
 mies. The storm that has passed and gone leaves 
 us always more love for the sunshine. If the sun 
 never hid away we would grow careless of his 
 worth. The storms come to help us and strengthen 
 our appreciation for the sun." 
 
 She finished the other braid and I put on my 
 head-silk. "I have heered Black Bear pray that 
 the wind be still," I said, and was tickled I'd 
 thought of it. 
 
 "Yes," she agreed, "but our people would have 
 found no fault if the winds had not been still," she 
 said, picking up her comb. "They would not dare. 
 They know that there is no created thing that is al- 
 ways free from trouble. The flowers of spring and 
 the young leaves upon the trees often creep out of 
 their winter lodges to meet the summer and are 
 
278 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 chilled by the north wind. Many die. Some are 
 crippled, but last the season through and lend their 
 scant breath to the summer's breeze. Often the 
 flowers are hungry and thirst is never far away; 
 but they do not often let us know. When the berry 
 is ripe it dies. So men die." 
 
 She moved away to the other side of the fire, and 
 Red Robe, excusing himse'f, left the lodge to visit 
 Mac. I was mighty nigh ready to follow him. I 
 was bristling inside, but held onto myse'f because I 
 knowed I needed to be talked to that a-way. "You 
 promised to tell me about the bluebirds," I said, 
 filling my pip. 
 
 "No, I have never promised that," she said, glanc- 
 ing at her mother, who turned square around and be- 
 gun unlacing a parfleche, like she hadn't heered me. 
 "I said 'maybe'." Then she come back on my side of 
 the fire, picked up one of my moccasins that she 
 had been making, and sat down near me. 
 
 "My people are fond of the bluebirds," she says, 
 almost under her breath. "They love to see them 
 always. Whenever a bluebird comes to a lodge " 
 she bent over the moccasin till her face nigh touched 
 it, "they say that the owner of the lodge-skin will 
 be lucky because the bluebird came. If a bluebird 
 lights upon a lodge-pole it means health and joy. 
 But if the bird should come inside, as they some- 
 times do, then great good fortune is sure to follow 
 through the door. That is all." 
 
 But before I could speak she said, "If a butterfly 
 should come into a lodge and light on a sleeping 
 child there and fan it with its sleep-wings, then the 
 child will surely die. And the owl is bad, too," she 
 went on, like she didn't want to talk about the blue- 
 birds. "They are the spirits of the dead, ghosts 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 279 
 
 that come out of the Shadow-hills because they can- 
 not rest there. If an owl comes close to a lodge 
 and cries out, it is a bad thing for someone within 
 that lodge. On the night before the battle with the 
 Blackfeet you heard the owl. You heard Black 
 Bear and you knew that the Crees were troubled 
 and were sure that a great warrior would die. One 
 did die. It was your friend. Owls are wise and 
 bad, and we never bother them." 
 
 It had suddenly quit snowing and the wind was 
 coming from a different direction, so she got up and 
 went outside to change the smoke-ears on the lodge. 
 I followed her outside. 
 
 "See," she said, "It is Sow-un-you-tin that blows. 
 Tomorrow the snow will be gone again, and the ice 
 will soon leave the river." 
 
 Then she untied a necklace of little shells from 
 her neck and gave it to me. "Your moccasins will 
 be finished in two days, and you will follow the ice 
 down the stream," she said. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 The storm had suddenly turned and a Chinook 
 was blowing. All night the wind howled and the 
 snow fell from the walls of the lodges where the 
 storm had blowed it. The air was so warm that a 
 fire was uncomfortable, so that I left my door open. 
 The village dogs, glad of the change, prowled about 
 to find and gnaw bones that had been hid under the 
 snow that was going away fast as it had come. One 
 of the miracles of the plains was being worked, and 
 I knowed that by morning everything would be 
 soaking wet and that the plains would be bare 
 again. 
 
 A drowsiness that comes to man and beast when, 
 after a bad storm, a Chinook blows, layed hold of 
 me and I fell asleep. It was late in the night when 
 I woke. The wind wa'n't so strong, but I could 
 hear the dripping of water from the trees and 
 bushes and the ashes in the fire-ring was wet when 
 I kindled a fire. It was raining. The ice would 
 go out of the river. I closed the lodge door and 
 layed down again, and before the fire had burned 
 out I was sound asleep. 
 
 The morning was dark. The heavy clouds was 
 so low that they didn't look to be far from the 
 ground, and a fine drizzling rain was falling mighty 
 nigh straight down, for the wind had plumb quit. 
 
 I went to the river for water and found the ice 
 flooded from shore to shore and cracking. I heered 
 a wild goose gonk up somewhere in the dark sky, 
 and my heart jumped I was so glad he'd come. The 
 
 280 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 281 
 
 snow was mighty nigh all gone, and by noon the 
 plains would be bare as they had been in the fall. 
 Spring was coming! I begun to whistle a tune. 
 The way was open to the mouth of the Yellowstone 
 and soon the river would carry us down to good old 
 St. Louis from the Ashley-Henry Post. 
 
 Mac was setting by the fire in the lodge when I 
 got back. "Ho!" he says, "Sow-un-you-tin blew 
 hard last night. The winter is dead, Lone Wolf." 
 
 I can't make you know how his words set me afire 
 to get away. 
 
 "Let us finish our trading and start when it quits 
 raining." I could jest see St. Louis see the white- 
 men and hear the fiddles through the open doors of 
 the town. But they seemed to me to be at the other 
 end of nowhere and I itched to begin traveling to- 
 wards them. 
 
 "We must not go until the water begins to rise, 
 Lone Wolf." His voice seemed to be warning me 
 that would be months from then, and it made me 
 bristle. "There will be storms yet and the ice must 
 go first," he said, laying down on a robe. 
 
 He wa'n't ever in a hurry! I got up and moved 
 a bale of robes. It didn't need moving, but I plumb 
 had to move something. "I don't want to stay here 
 forever," I said, and sat down again. 
 
 He got up and filled his pipe. "We are lucky," 
 he smiled. "If the Crees had moved we should have 
 been obliged to pack all our furs and robes and 
 move with them, Lone Wolf; or stay here and fall 
 an easy prey to the Blackfeet." He lit his pipe and 
 passed it to me. "Even now the Crees might have 
 to move to follow the buffalo before we are ready 
 to start on our way." 
 
 It was true. I hadn't thought of it. I slowed 
 
282 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 down right away. "Well, let us get rid of the rest 
 of our goods, anyway," I says. 
 
 He agreed to that; and, the next morning we 
 drummed up some traders, so that by night we was 
 cleaned out. 
 
 I took to watching the river; but as Aunt Lib 
 says, "a watched pot never will boil," and it was slow 
 and tiresome. The ice did go out at last, but there 
 was one bad storm after another to keep us back. 
 Did you ever hold a hound-dog by a tether while 
 he snuffled and rared to go on a hot trail? Well, I 
 was like that every minute, and worse. Days I'd 
 watch the river, and nights I'd dream of St. Louis 
 till I'd mighty nigh get up and walk towards it in 
 my sleep. 
 
 The first wild flowers blossomed in sunny spots, 
 hiding, like, near the bushes and under the river's 
 banks. I run onto Bluebird and Sits-and-Sings one 
 day picking flowers by the river. Bluebird asked 
 me to tell her about St. Louis, and I did; all I 
 knowed. 
 
 "And do the people stay always in that one 
 place?" she asked, as though she reckoned they'd 
 starve to death if they did. I wished that she could 
 see St. Louis, but I didn't say so. 
 
 I went to Red Robe's lodge that night, but I didn't 
 stay a long spell. They seemed to think I'd come 
 back, and I didn't figure on making it any harder 
 for me to leave by telling them that I had made up 
 my mind I wouldn't. They was good folks and I 
 liked them a heap. 
 
 Nights when I'd get to thinking about Bluebird 
 I'd tell myse'f that it wa'n't fair to like her too 
 much, noway. If I had been going to stay on the 
 plains it would have been different, but she was of 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 283 
 
 the plains and I wa'n't a plainsman. She couldn't 
 live in my country and be happy noway, and I sure 
 couldn't stand the plains, myse'f . I'd run it all over 
 and over in my mind that way; and I couldn't see 
 my way out only to go away and let her plumb alone. 
 Even if I wanted to stay on the plains just then, 
 how could I be sure I wouldn't flop around and want 
 to quit. I'd let her alone. It was what I'd ought to 
 do what any honest man would do. I called myse'f 
 honest, and I'd let it go at that. 
 
 The leaves was showing on the trees and meadow 
 larks piped up the sun of mornings, but the river 
 paid no attention and just wouldn't come up an 
 inch. Ducks and geese millions of them was 
 everywhere and great flocks of curlews with their 
 long, crooked bills that turn downwards, and sand- 
 hill cranes, with their echoing voices flew over the 
 village in long strings, their thin legs sticking way 
 out behind like they didn't belong there. And 
 blamed if the plains wa'n't turning greenish with 
 the new grass that was crowding up under the old, 
 before the water showed any sign of raising. I 
 never will forget how glad I was when at last Mac 
 had to admit that it was coming up. 
 
 Drift logs begun to come down logs that the 
 freshet of the year before had left on sandbars up 
 above us. I watched them go sailing down the 
 stream till they got plumb out of sight, and mighty 
 nigh wished I was a log, myse'f. 
 
 One afternoon a big one come on by, a rough- 
 barked cottonwood with scraggly roots, and broke 
 off nigh the middle. It caught on a bar just above 
 me and I reckoned it would have to wait for higher 
 water, too. But directly it swung around and got 
 loose, and I saw two fat muskrats sitting close to- 
 
284 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 gether on the log. They was faced down-stream 
 like two cronies going to market and not hardly 
 able to wait to get to St. Louis. I started to run 
 along the bank, keeping abreast of the log, and if I 
 didn't talk to them like they was men I'm a nigger. 
 "I'll be along directly !" I says, and felt foolish when 
 I heered my voice. I watched them round the bend 
 below the village and turned back. I'd made up my 
 mind to move. I wouldn't wait another day. 
 
 But I didn't have to argue with Mac. He was 
 working on the packs when I got to the lodge. 
 
 "Let us start in the morning !" I said, pitching in 
 to he'p him. Then I knowed we couldn't possibly 
 make it, so I says, "Or the morning after." 
 
 "Good !" he says ; and I was mighty tickled. 
 
 I had kept out some beads, two axes, two knives, 
 a keg of powder, and ten bars of lead, for presents. 
 I reckoned I'd give them all to Red Robe's folks. 
 
 Then all of a sudden misery come to me. We was 
 going to trade off the hosses and mules for a macki- 
 naw-boat at the Ashley-Henry Post. I couldn't take 
 Eagle on down the river. And I wouldn't trade him 
 off. I sat down to think how I'd manage ; but there 
 wa'n't any 1 way unless we went clean on to St. Louis 
 by land, and I knowed we never could make it. 
 Woodpecker, Spotted Elk, and Standing Bear would 
 only go with us as far as the mouth of the Yellow- 
 stone, and I couldn't blame them. The Grosventres 
 would take us in if the Crows didn't. I layed awake 
 nigh half the night thinking about it ; but I couldn't 
 figure out any way, only to leave him with Bluebird. 
 I wouldn't give him to her. I'd just leave him with 
 her, like. Once I made up my mind to it, I went to 
 sleep. 
 
 We got all ready for an early start and spent the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 285 
 
 day changing and fixing packs. We had twenty 
 pack animals loaded light enough to travel fast and 
 had to get six extra hosses from the Crees to make 
 out. Besides our own robes and furs we was taking 
 along the packs of beaver skins belonging to Red 
 Robe, promising to pay the trader at the Ashley- 
 Henry Post for him. 
 
 I couldn't wait for daylight. I got up and built a 
 fire an hour before dawn. Mac turned out and went 
 out for the stock, while I got breakfast, as nervous 
 as a girl, dropping everything and burning my 
 hands twice. 
 
 Woodpecker and Standing Bear come in before 
 Mac got back, and when he run in the stock Spotted 
 Elk was with him. The Crees begun to saddle up 
 while Mac and I ate. 
 
 "You give this lodge to somebody and I will give 
 Dad's to Yellow Bear," I said. 
 
 "Good," he said, and that was settled. But some- 
 how I wa'n't so glad to do it as I thought I'd be. 
 Eagle was pestering me, too. 
 
 The Crees begun to pack and a crowd gathered to 
 look on. Bluebird was there, and Red Robe and his 
 woman and the other children, but I went at it and 
 took a hand at the packing. The mules was ornery 
 not having done any work for so long a spell, and 
 some of them cut up, making everybody laugh. But 
 one by one they was packed, all of us working hard 
 and fast to get the outfit strung out so the mules 
 wouldn't lay down and roll. I was sweating like a 
 nigger when Mac swung onto his hoss and leading 
 the bell-mare, headed out onto the plains to clear 
 the bad-land breaks before turning down the Mis- 
 souri. 
 
 Eagle, like he knowed what was going on, made 
 
286 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 out to follow, but I caught him up and led him to 
 Bluebird. He whinnied and pawed and rared up, 
 and I mighty nigh weakened and took him along. 
 
 The crowd of folks fell back and begun to go away 
 to their lodges, when holding onto Eagle with one 
 hand, I held out my other to Bluebird. She took it, 
 her eyes falling when I squeezed her hand. It was 
 little and slender, but hardened with work, and I 
 saw again how the nails on the tapering fingers was 
 broke from dressing heavy robes. Directly she 
 drew it away from me gently and brushed her fore- 
 head. How pretty she looked, and good ! Her black 
 hair, parted exactly in the middle, hung in heavy 
 braids that reached below her waist, one in front 
 over her breast, the other behind a half-naked 
 shoulder as pretty as any woman could own. Her 
 head being bent showed the part in her hair which 
 was fresh-painted, and there was pearl shells in her 
 ears not big pieces, but pretty ones, round and 
 polished. 
 
 "Bluebird," I begun, "will you keep Eagle for 
 me?" 
 
 She looked up and her eyes held onto mine like 
 they was afraid I'd lie. "Shall you come back?" she 
 asked in that nigh-whispered voice, "back here to 
 stay?" 
 
 It was the first time I knowed how much she 
 liked me; and right then my job got harder to do. 
 I knowed I couldn't lie to her; and I wouldn't, no- 
 way. 
 
 "I am going down the river to my home, and I 
 may come back. I think now that I like the ways 
 of my own people better, and that I shall stay 
 there," I says. "But if I come back I will stay." 
 
 She turned to look out on the plains where the 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 287 
 
 pack-train was still going nigh straight away. Her 
 eyes didn't change, nor her face. Then she took 
 hold of Eagle's rope. "I will keep him, Lone Wolf," 
 she said, "keep him till he dies." 
 
 I couldn't hardly hear that word. I prickled at it. 
 
 Her father and mother was standing just behind 
 her, but far enough away so that I knowed they 
 didn't hear. I wouldn't run off and leave her with- 
 out fixing it so she would know if I wa'n't coming 
 back. I took off my ring. The shield on it was nigh 
 worn away now, but I handed it to her. 
 
 "Look at it carefully," I said. "If after I have 
 visited my people I make up my mind that I shall 
 not come back to the plains I will send it to you so 
 that you will know." 
 
 She took the ring, and when she give it back I 
 was sure she'd know it any place. "Do not lose it, 
 Lone Wolf," she whispered, "or I might never 
 know." 
 
 How her eyes looked into mine ! 
 
 "If I should lose it, I will let you know some other 
 way, Bluebird, and before the month of roses shall 
 have passed a second time from this day. I have 
 spoken and I have not lied." 
 
 I took her hand again. It trembled in mine, but 
 her fingers closed about my own and she led me to- 
 wards her father. "Tell him what you have said to 
 me, Lone Wolf," she begged. "Tell him all, that he 
 may not listen to other men who may want me." 
 
 I told him every word. His sharp eyes never left 
 my own while I was speaking. But afterwards he 
 says without hesitating: "I will not listen to other 
 young men until the month of roses shall have 
 passed a second time from this day, or until the ring 
 
288 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 has come back to her. You are young, Lone Wolf, 
 your heart is strong, and there is yet time. Ho !" 
 
 He walked away and his woman followed. 
 
 I turned back to Bluebird. "There are some pres- 
 ents for you in the lodge," I said. "Get them before 
 they move it." 
 
 She didn't hear me. Eagle was restless and I 
 took the rope from her hand and tied him to a tree. 
 
 "Good-bye, Bluebird," I said, and got onto my 
 hoss. 
 
 "Good-bye," she whispered. "Do not forget us." 
 Her arms went around Eagle's white neck and she 
 buried her face in his mane. 
 
 I rode away. Twice I heered Eagle whinny, but 
 I didn't dare to look back. I felt as ornery and low- 
 down as Mike Fink, and my conscience got to pes- 
 tering me like it did when I'd caught myse'f being 
 glad it was Joe instead of Dad that was killed. And 
 it kept at it till I caught up to the pack-train. Then 
 it let up a little and I showed myse'f again that I 
 was only doing the right thing, the honest thing. I 
 couldn't stay on the plains and to take Bluebird and 
 then leave her would be lower-down than a skunk. 
 Besides I reckoned that I was as bad-hurt as she 
 was mebby. I hoped I was, anyway; for I reckoned 
 I deserved to be hurt more than she did, a heap 
 more. I'd ought to have stayed plumb away from 
 her, and I hadn't. But I couldn't he'p it now. I'd 
 keep my promise and send the ring. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 Mac had turned down the stream; and the pack- 
 train, beginning to settle to work, looked mighty 
 fine, the loaded animals following him over the roll- 
 ing plains. First was Mac, then some stock, then 
 Spotted Elk, then more packs, then Woodpecker 
 and more mules, then Standing Bear, and finally 
 me all headed for the mouth of the Yellowstone. 
 
 The morning was fine, and there was a rich smell 
 of spring in the air. The buffalo was shedding their 
 hair, and it was sticking to every bush. Little rolls 
 of it, fine as silk, blowed by the wind, bounded about 
 like queer, shapeless animals looking for a place to 
 hide. Directly we passed a herd, and the animals 
 was all ragged and looked towsley as all get out, 
 with their long hair coming off in wads and still 
 sticking about their bodies like it hated to let go. 
 They was in good fix, but didn't look much like the 
 buffalo we'd killed during the fall and winter. And 
 the young calves, all legs and heads, that trotted by 
 their mothers' sides, looked for all the world like 
 bad-made toy animals that had come to life in a 
 dream. 
 
 Wolves, packs of them, skulked close every min- 
 ute, hoping to pick up a new-born calf or to find a 
 crippled buffalo to kill. They was shedding, too, 
 and looked tattered and tired, their tongues lolling 
 out, and panting even when they sat down to watch 
 us go by. Now and again I'd see one scratch him- 
 se'f like he wanted to get rid of his winter coat and 
 was half mad because it wouldn't come off. 
 
 I could see the tree tops down along the Missouri, 
 
 289 
 
290 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 showing right green with young leaves. The plains 
 was a picture; and you'd have sworn that they 
 never could know bad weather and that misery 
 never come that way. 
 
 Every day things went smooth and easy. It would 
 be cloudy and rain, then the sun would come out 
 again before night. We didn't see an Injin; not 
 one ; nor any sign, till we got opposite the mouth of 
 the Yellowstone and had kindled a fire. Then a dug- 
 out come over to us from the Post, fetching a white 
 man and an Injin. I was tickled to see one of my 
 own kind again, I can tell you. They stayed with 
 us all night and we visited till late. 
 
 At daylight Mac and I went to the Post with 
 them, taking Red Robe's beaver skins along. We 
 struck a bargain easy for a mackinaw, but part of 
 the agreement didn't suit me. We had to take as 
 many bales of freight belonging to the traders at 
 the Post as the mackinaw would carry, besides our 
 own. There wa'n't no way out of it. But they was 
 to send a man along to he'p us and take care of the 
 goods belonging to them. Mac was plumb tickled at 
 that. He knowed I wa'n't any hand with a boat and 
 so was mighty glad when a little black Frenchman 
 was sent across to our camp with the mackinaw. 
 
 We loaded up, taking some dainties like meal and 
 sugar got at the Post. We'd paid off the Crees be- 
 fore we left the Marias, so we said good-bye to them 
 and shoved off at about ten o'clock. 
 
 There was two oars up nigh the bow of the boat, 
 which Mac and I manned while St. Pierre handled 
 the steering oar at the stern. The river was coming 
 up fast and the current was mighty strong, so that 
 we was out of sight of the Post in no time. Cracky ! 
 We was bound for St. Louis at last. I couldn't be- 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 291 
 
 lieve it. If I lived to get there with what belonged 
 to me I'd be rich. 
 
 St. Pierre begun to sing, but Mac said something 
 in French and he quit. It had sounded funny and 
 I laughed. 
 
 "HFm say no good por seeng now," Mac says, 
 turning to me. "T'ree man is stan' dam* poor show 
 wit* planty Hinjin. Me, HFm lakum song jist de 
 sam' nodder man, but not now, by gar! Not jist 
 now!" 
 
 I knowed he was right and said so. Each bend in 
 the big river held a mystery and we never turned 
 one of them without wondering if our luck would 
 hold or break. Any turn might show up an Injin 
 village or a war-party looking for trouble. Many 
 a boat had been captured and its crew killed, even 
 away below where the country was better known to 
 whitemen. There had been a heap of fights 
 along the river. I reckoned that one of them had 
 figured in fetching me to the plains, mebby. But 
 we didn't stop. We went on and on, 'round bend 
 after bend till plumb dark, before we ate a bite. 
 Then we changed things some. I took a nap while 
 Mac pulled on one oar and St. Pierre steered in the 
 stern. But we didn't stop, not a minute, all night 
 long. We changed once, nigh midnight, when I took 
 a hand at the oar and Mac took St. Pierre's place 
 in the stern. 
 
 There was a quite a difference in the looks ot 
 things when morning come. The leaves on the trees 
 was nigh full-grown ; for we had traveled more than 
 a hundred miles, and I could notice that it was 
 some warmer. 
 
 I quit pulling the oar and got some breakfast 
 ready. Then we called St. Pierre and ate. After 
 
292 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 that Mac took a nap till nigh noon, while I pulled 
 the oar and St. Pierre steered. 
 
 Directly we passed Little Pete's corral. It was 
 still standing. I could see just where Dad and I 
 was laying when Joe was shot. It didn't take long 
 to pass the place; but while we was drifting by, I 
 saw most everything and thought of everything. A 
 band of antelope was drinking where they'd drunk 
 that day. I wondered if they was the same ones. 
 I didn't say anything to St. Pierre; it wasn't worth 
 while; but I got to thinking hard. 
 
 Dad was dead, and Bill, and Joe. Even Fink 
 and Carpenter and Talbot had gone under. I was 
 the only one left alive. If I could only get to St. 
 Louis I'd go home and stay there. 
 
 Then I thought of Bluebird and Eagle. I reckoned 
 I'd been square and honest with both, and that I 
 loved both more than anything else in the world. 
 But there wa'n't any way I could have them. 
 
 We didn't stop but twice in eight days and nights. 
 Then we only tied up at islands and cooked, being 
 mighty careful about making our fires. We baked 
 up a lot of corn bread and took wood so that we 
 could make a little tea on the boat while we was 
 traveling. But on the morning of the ninth day I 
 killed a fat whitetail buck and we landed. It was 
 the first shot we'd fired and the first fresh meat 
 we'd had in nigh a week. We could have had tons 
 of meat any day, but we daren't shoot. Mac held 
 to it that we must keep quiet and make time, and 
 we did. I was cramped and tired with the stillness, 
 and the bad-lands, pretty and queer as they was, 
 got on my nerves more and more ; though now they 
 was changing fading out, like, and I was mighty 
 glad. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 293 
 
 It was on the morning of the tenth day when it 
 begun to rain like sixty. We was all up and awake. 
 Mac, pulling at the oar, says, "Now, St. Pierre, 
 you'll seeng planty." 
 
 Cracky! The Frenchman didn't wait, but struck 
 up a lively tune, and Mac joined him. It was like 
 letting out a tight cinch, and I felt tickled. 
 
 They sang song after song all in French, but 
 sounding good to me. The dangerous country had 
 been safely passed and we hadn't anything to fear. 
 Rank vines and weeds with bright-colored flowers 
 lined the banks now, and the timber was thicker and 
 bigger and reached farther back from the river. 
 Directly we passed a log cabin and cheered till we 
 was hoarse. A man come to the door and waved 
 his hand ; but he wa'n't white, he was a mixed-blood 
 on the outskirts of civilization, though I knowed his 
 next neighbor was likely to be white. 
 
 Near sundown we went by a clearing just a lit- 
 tle one without a fence. Then, before dark we saw 
 a dozen good-sized cabins, and a mile or two below 
 them went ashore to stretch our legs. We slept on 
 land and built a fire and cooked, all we wanted. 
 
 But at daylight we went on. It rained hard that 
 day and the next. The cabins and clearings was 
 nearer together now; and when the sun come out 
 again, there she was old St. Louis, not a mile 
 ahead! We'd come into the Mississippi and never 
 knowed it. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 We tied up at a low-lying wharf. Almost before 
 we got out of the boat we had visitors. But they 
 was loafers, all of them, and mean-looking. Direct- 
 ly, a fiddle commencing to play, St. Pierre begun to 
 jig on the dock like a crazy man. I saw right away 
 that I'd have to be careful and fast if I got shed 
 of the trader's freight before St. Pierre run off with 
 the wild bunch, so I says, "You stay right here with 
 the boat till I come back, both of you." 
 
 I saw a fat man coming towards us packing a jug. 
 I waited till he come up to St. Pierre and spoke in 
 French to him. He poured out a tin cup full of 
 liquor from the jug and St. Pierre downed it, 
 hungry. The man passed to Mac and give him a 
 drink too. Then he come on to me. "None for me," 
 I says. "There's plenty time for that." 
 
 They both promised to let it alone while I was 
 gone, so I set out to look up the Ashley-Henry place 
 in St. Louis. I knowed that Mac's word was plumb 
 good, but I couldn't trust St. Pierre noway, and I 
 walked fast. 
 
 Mud was deep in the streets and there was holes 
 and puddles of water everywhere. Great teams of 
 yoked cattle was coming and going between the 
 levee and the warehouses, the wheels on the heavy 
 wagons cutting down deep into the rain-soaked 
 road. In mighty nigh half of the open doors, 
 women, dressed up fine, stood or leaned against the 
 casing like they was waiting for somebody. Some 
 of them spoke to me and wanted me to stop and talk 
 
 294 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 295 
 
 a spell, but I wanted to get shed of my responsibil- 
 ity as well as our fur and robes and I kept on till 
 I'd found the Ashley-Henry place. 
 
 They sent some men down to the boat with a 
 wagon right away, so that I felt there wa'n't so 
 much need to hurry now. But I went right off to 
 Shipman and Company's store and showed Mr. 
 Shipman the paper Dad had give me. 
 
 He read the paper and called a man named 
 Bracket to read it, too. "Mounts," he says, looking 
 interested, "this will clear you of the charge of 
 murder. I knew, of course, that; Wash Lamkin was 
 dead and I paid the order you gave to Beasley and 
 Abernathy; but I knew nothing of Lamkin's con- 
 fession till now not a word." 
 
 Mr. Bracket handed back the paper, looking 
 curious at me. 
 
 "Remember what you've read, Bracket," said Mr. 
 Shipman. "And Mounts, as soon as you can spare 
 the time I'll go with you to see Judge Perkins," he 
 says. "You aren't likely to get into trouble for a 
 little while; but as soon as you can we'd best make 
 the call." 
 
 He put the paper in an iron box, and I was satis- 
 fied to leave it there. 
 
 Before dark the mackinaw was empty and we'd 
 sold her for thirty dollars. Sixty-nine hundred and 
 fifty dollars was what Shipman and Company paid 
 us for our robes and fur, and half of it was mine, 
 besides the money left from what Dad had given 
 me. I felt rich, I can tell you, and happy. I asked 
 Mr. Shipman to take care of the money for us till 
 we wanted it, and we took a receipt for nigh all 
 only keeping out some for spending money. Mac 
 held out more than I did, though I tried to talk him 
 
296 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 out of it. But I couldn't and I had to leave him to 
 go see the Judge. 
 
 His home was up on the bluffs among a grove of 
 big trees, and there was a mighty good-looking 
 hound-dog in the yard. Mr. Shipman knocked and 
 a nigger let us in. 
 
 Right away after introducing me he handed Dad's 
 paper to the Judge, a little fat man with a bald 
 head, and smooth-shaved. The Judge put on his 
 glasses. "Sit down, gentlemen, sit down," he says, 
 beginning to read. 
 
 Directly he finished, "Wash Lamkin? Why, I 
 grew up with Wash," he says, taking off his glasses 
 and wiping them on his coat-tails. "And I reckon 
 I know why he shot Caley Byers. Everybody ex- 
 pected it in our parts long ago." He looked like he 
 felt important, and shaking hands with me, says, 
 "Mounts, I'll give you a copy of this paper to have 
 with you, but I reckon I'd best keep the original 
 document, myse'f ," he says. "Oh, Eph ! Eph !" 
 
 The nigger that let us in come to the door. "You 
 go and fetch Tuck Taylor here. Tell him I want 
 him mighty quick," the Judge says. "Tell him I got 
 some news that's worth his time. Understand?" 
 
 "Tuck runs the Gazette," he told me, after the 
 nigger had gone (and he went mighty quick. I 
 reckoned he was afraid of the Judge, likely) . 
 
 The Judge filled a long-stemmed pipe and lit it. 
 "A little publicity will he'p Mounts, Tom," he said 
 to Mr. Shipman. "Besides, Tuck is mighty keen for 
 news from up river, so it will be water on his wheel, 
 too." He sat down nigh me. "Had a right smart 
 brush with the Injins, I reckon?" he says, hitching 
 his chair nigher mine. 
 
 "Yes, sir," I told him. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 297 
 
 "Good fighters, ain't they?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," I says. 
 
 "Mighty good, I reckon, from what honest folks 
 have told me," he said, puffing hard at his pipe. 
 "But when I was a boy I knew a man who used to 
 tell me that one good whiteman could lick a whole 
 tribe of Indians. He lived in our town and said 
 he'd been a trapper once before he came there. His 
 name was Alvin Levigood, and he was a cooper by 
 trade. Old Al'd sit straddle of a log that used to 
 lie down by the cooper-shop and tell us boys about 
 his Indian fights, till we could see blood all over 
 everything. Al always won the fight, no matter 
 how it started or how many were engaged against 
 him. He had a bad scar on his side, a mighty nasty- 
 lookin' scar, that he said was made by an Indian's 
 lance; and he'd pull up his shirt and show us the 
 scar every time he yarned about his battles. He'd 
 say, 'I jest wrenched the durn spear out of his 
 hands an' druv it clean thoo his belly. Then I tuck 
 his scalp ; yes, sir, an* I kep' it f er a long time, too.' 
 
 "Old Al was a hero ; I mean our hero ; till one day 
 his wife chased him clean to Hawkins' Ferry with 
 a mop, right through town lickety-split. That set- 
 tled it with me. I never believed a word of Al's 
 stories after that. Hark," the Judge says, getting 
 up and going to the door. "Here's Tuck now." 
 
 He introduced me to a thin little man with eyes 
 like a mink's. "Here, Tuck," he says, looking more 
 important than ever, "read this paper first; then 
 Mounts will tell you his story. You remember the 
 Byers killing, of course? Well, Tuck, I know the 
 whole story. Grew up with the Lamkins and 
 Byerses. And you can say in your paper that I 
 
298 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 know what Wash Lamkin says in that paper is 
 true!" 
 
 Mr. Taylor didn't answer nor look up till he'd 
 finished reading. He wa'n't a man to talk much, it 
 looked like. "Thank you, Judge," he says, sitting 
 down at the table. He pulled some paper out of his 
 pocket and spread it out, reached for a quill on the 
 table, and turning to me, says, "Now Mounts, let's 
 have it." 
 
 I told it short as I could. But whenever I skipped 
 the Judge or Mr. Taylor knowed it and questioned 
 me, till first I knowed I'd told it all, or mighty nigh 
 all. 
 
 "Thank you, Judge, and Mounts." Mr. Taylor got 
 up to go, nodding to both of us. "The Gazette will 
 be out some time between now and morning, gen- 
 tlemen, and I've got to bid you good evening if this 
 story is to be in." 
 
 "There, Tom," said the Judge, after Taylor had 
 gone, "we have been of service to Tuck, and set 
 Mounts right before the world at the same time." 
 
 Men was going and coming up and down the 
 muddy streets and in and out of lighted places 
 when Mr. Shipman and I went back to the store. On 
 the way, after a long spell of silence, each picking 
 his trail through the mud, Mr. Shipman said, "We 
 do business in a queer way, Mounts. I was think- 
 ing of the order you gave to Beasley and Aber- 
 nathy. I paid it because I knew them, though I 
 didn't know you. I knew Lamkin well enough, of 
 course. But we do business with queer people 
 people who do almost anything but cheat. Did 
 Beasley or Abernathy know about Wash Lamkin's 
 confession?" 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 299 
 
 "No, sir," I says, "I don't reckon they did. They 
 just signed the paper for Dad." 
 
 Mac and St. Pierre was gone. I expected it, 
 but it pestered me. "You'll find them in the first 
 dance hall, Mounts," laughed Mr. Shipman. "And 
 I'd go slow while I was in town if I was you." 
 
 Mac had a lot of money on him. I ought to find 
 him. I turned to go out. "Good-night," I said, 
 shaking hands. "And thank you, sir, for what 
 you've done for me." 
 
 "You're entirely welcome," he smiled. "Going 
 back up the river soon?" he asked me. 
 
 "I reckon I'm plumb through, sir," I says. "The 
 way I got it figured now, I'm going home to Coon 
 Creek to stay." 
 
 He reached for a quill on his desk. "No," he said. 
 "You aren't through. They never get through, 
 somehow. You are a born plainsman, Mounts, and 
 you'll go back. It's in your blood." 
 
 "Good-night," I says, and walked out. I was 
 lonesome as all get out ; and in St. Louis. 
 
 I looked into two dance halls and a tavern but 
 Mac and St. Pierre wa'n't there. Then I crossed the 
 street to a bright-lit place where there was a heap 
 of music and noise. And there they was. St. 
 Pierre with one arm around Mac's neck, was flour- 
 ishing a glass of liquor, singing and keeping time 
 with the slopping glass, over Mac's head. 
 
 I elbowed my way inside. I couldn't hear myse'f 
 think. I reached over and touched Mac. "Come 
 out," I said in Cree. "I must speak with you." 
 
 He was drunk. I could see that. But his face 
 sobered quick. He thought I was in trouble. He 
 shook himse'f loose from St. Pierre's arm and fol- 
 lowed me outside. 
 
300 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "Let us go to bed," I said, taking his arm. 
 
 He pulled back. "No, Lone Wolf," he said. "I 
 am in St. Louis. I am playing now, and I shall play 
 until I have finished four days that way. Then," 
 he reached for my shoulder to steady himse'f. 
 "Then I shall go back with presents for my woman 
 and children. Are you going with me, Lone Wolf?" 
 
 "I am going to my home tomorrow," I told him. 
 
 "When will you come back, back here from your 
 home?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 I felt of my ring. If I gave it to him now he 
 would lose it. 
 
 "In ten days," I said. "Then I will know if I am 
 going back up the river." 
 
 "I will wait ten days, then, Lone Wolf," he said. 
 "Come, let us go to St. Pierre and sing." 
 
 "No," I said. "I am going to my bed, and I wish 
 you were going, too." 
 
 But I knowed him. When he said "no" he was set 
 as a mule, and there wa'n't any use to coax. 
 
 I didn't sleep a wink. I thought of Mac all night. 
 Then, too, I got to itching to see Aunt Lib till I 
 wanted to get up and go afoot. I was glad when 
 day come, and I got up and ate breakfast as quick 
 as I could. 
 
 After that I went to the store and got two thou- 
 sand and five hundred dollars and a suit of clothes 
 that had been made for Mr. Shipman himse'f. They 
 fitted me fine and looked good on me. I had neve* 
 owned a regular suit of clothes before, and I felt 
 proud, though mighty uncomfortable in them, after 
 the clothes I'd been wearing. I rolled up my duds 
 and Mr. Shipman promised to keep them, and Dad's 
 rifle, till I called for them. Then I went out to find 
 Mac. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 301 
 
 I hunted the town over. But some places was 
 shut up and in others that was open only niggers 
 was in them, cleaning up after the night's carouse. 
 I had to give it up. 
 
 At a sales corral I bought me a good hoss and 
 saddle, after which I went back to the store to say 
 good-bye to Mr. Shipman and ask him to keep an 
 eye on Mac. He said he'd do the best he could, and 
 laughed when I told him I'd be back in ten days, 
 and handed me a copy of the Gazette. "Your story 
 is in it," he said, "and Tuck has told it well." 
 
 "Good-bye, sir," I says. "And I'll sure be back 
 in ten days." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 When I got down at the gate and opened it, it 
 squeaked loud like it always did. And here come 
 old Bugle, tickled plumb to death, and Bing with 
 him. They set up a howl that you could hear a mile 
 and I was mighty nigh as tickled as they was. Then 
 Aunt Lib come running down the walk. "If it ain't 
 Lige!" she says, hugging me tight and beginning to 
 cry. It was a regular bedlam for a spell, with the 
 children all talking at once and asking questions. 
 
 When I'd got loose from Aunt Lib, Uncle Eldin 
 shook hands. "Glad to see ye again, boy," he says ; 
 "and supper's ready, too." 
 
 "An* we got chicken," says Jinny. 
 
 "Fried chicken, Lige," piped Jane Ellen, taking 
 hold of my hand. 
 
 "Yes, an I'd better be 'tendin' to it," says Aunt 
 Lib, wiping her eyes on her apron. 
 
 We walked in a bunch, with the hounds wriggling 
 about us. "Where's Eben?" I asked, not seeing 
 him. 
 
 "Pap bound him out," says Jinny, and that set off 
 Aunt Lib. 
 
 "The crops wa'n't much last fall, Lige," she told 
 me, "an' Eldin had to mortgage, so we bound Eben 
 out, though goodness knows we needed him bad 
 enough. Now git washed, Lige. Eldin'll take keer 
 of yer hoss." 
 
 She fussed around the stove and table, talking 
 fast and fretting, like she always did. "I never was 
 so glad of a thing as I was to git yer letter, Lige," 
 she says, pouring the tea. "I jest cried an' cried 
 till it got here." 
 
 302 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 303 
 
 And I was mighty glad it had got there, even if 
 it did take a time, because I knowed she had fretted 
 awful. 
 
 After supper I told them about my trip, some of 
 it. Then I gave Uncle Eldin the Gazette and he 
 read what it said aloud. It was pretty nigh the 
 truth, only Taylor had made the fights seem worse 
 than they was. I'd read it the night before and 
 knowed that, but I let it go. 
 
 "Massey sakes ! Lige, I don't see how you ever did 
 git here alive!" Aunt Lib hugged me like she had 
 at the gate. "It's awful to think of that pore man 
 tellin' of killin' Caley Byers with his last breath," 
 she says. "I 'low ye got enough of that life to last 
 ye, ain't ye, Lige?" 
 
 Her voice sounded like she'd bet I had. 
 
 "I don't know, Aunt Lib," I says. "That's what's 
 pestering me. I wanted to get back here bad 
 enough; but just as soon's I did, everything looked 
 small to me, and fenced-in, like. I never knowed 
 Coon Creek was so small and lazy-looking. But it 
 sure is; an' muddy." Then I thought I was mebby 
 fretting her, so I says, "Eben must have growed a 
 lot in a year. I wish he was here." 
 
 I knowed they'd sleep better, so I told them they 
 could buy Eben off and that I had fetched them two 
 thousand dollars for their own. Aunt Lib was sure 
 then we'd all be killed for the money in the night, 
 and I reckoned mebby I'd made a mistake to tell 
 them, though it would be a change of torments, any- 
 how, I figured. But she said she wouldn't take the 
 money noway, and cried. 
 
 "There's more where it come from," I told her. 
 And that set her off again. 
 
 "Ye won't never go back up the river, will ye, 
 
304 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 Lige?" she whimpered. "The Injins'll kill ye or 
 ye'll git yerse'f drowned. Stay here where folks 
 has got religion and fears God." 
 
 I couldn't sleep that night. It was smothering 
 and close, and the bed was too soft. I thought of 
 what Aunt Lib had said about folks fearing God, 
 and then I thought of St. Louis and Bluebird and 
 Mac, until everything was mixed and upside down. 
 I had told myse'f there was peace here, and there 
 was. At least, there wa'n't any fighting between 
 men. But somehow it wa'n't the kind of peace that 
 let a man go to sleep. 
 
 Nigh, two o'clock I heered a fuss in the barn. 
 Then directly Uncle Eldin got up and went out. 
 When he come back I heered him ask, "Where's the 
 hoss-medicine, Lib?" and her tell him it was in the 
 cupboard on the top she'f . I got up and dressed. 
 
 Poor old Becky was dead in the barn. It upset 
 me, and I knowed Aunt Lib would fret. The mare 
 was old and wore out, but she'd been faithful and 
 he'ped a heap to make the place for us there. 
 
 I walked out under the stars. The night air 
 smelled so good after the loft that I didn't want to 
 go back. An owl hooted over in the timber, and I 
 thought right away of the Crees of Bluebird. "A 
 warrior is dead, sure 'nough," I thought. "And 
 even old Black Bear couldn't have saved her." 
 
 I knowed I had to go in with Uncle Eldin, but the 
 minute I set my foot inside I wished I was out 
 again. 
 
 "How is she, Eldin?" Aunt Lib's voice was full 
 of fret. 
 
 "She's dead," Uncle Eldin says, setting the Ian- 
 thorn on the table and sighing. 
 
 "Never mind, Aunt Lib," I says, hurrying to keep 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 305 
 
 her from crying if I could. "We'll buy a team of 
 good bosses tomorrow. By cracky! we can afford 
 it, too." 
 
 But she had something else on her mind. "Pore 
 oF Becky," she says, and then, "I believe Alexander 
 Hamilton's got the fever. He's jest a-burnin' up, 
 an* so cross a body cain't live with him. You'd best 
 see Doc Seaberry tomorrow, Eldin, an' git him some 
 medicine. Take Lige's hat. Good land!" she says. 
 "An' blow out that lanthorn. It's nigh the last can- 
 dle in the house, till I git time to make some more. 
 If 'tain't one thing, it's another." 
 
 I reckoned it was with nothing between them, 
 and climbed the ladder to the loft. 
 
 But I couldn't sleep. It was all I could do to 
 breathe. I looked out at the stars till they faded. 
 Then I got up and went to the barn and hitched old 
 Tom to the stoneboat. I reckoned I'd get old Becky 
 out of sight before Aunt Lib got to see her. So I 
 hauled her over into the timber and left her there 
 for the varmi'ts. They was the sneaky kind that 
 didn't howl over a feast, nor kill their meat; and 
 some way I got to thinking of the strength of men 
 and brutes that lived on the plains. 
 
 Smoke was coming out of the chimney when I got 
 back from the timber. And after all my trying to 
 get home, I didn't want to go in the house. But I 
 knowed I had to. 
 
 Aunt Lib met me at the door, askin', "Where on 
 airth have ye been?" 
 
 Not waiting for me to answer, she went on, 
 "Alexander Hamilton's right sick this morning, and 
 Eldin'll have to go to the Crossin', Lige." 
 
 "I'm goin' too," I told her. "And we'll fetch 
 home a good team and some medicine. Then tomor- 
 row we'll fetch Eben home." 
 
306 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 I thought that ought to quiet her; but Aunt Lib 
 couldn't be quiet noway, I reckon. 
 
 As soon as breakfast was over we set out afoot 
 for the Crossing, Uncle Eldin, Charles, and me, 
 though Charles ought to have stayed home to he'p, 
 I thought. The trail hadn't changed, nor Dan's 
 Clearing. The big down-tree was there with its 
 scraggly roots; but there wa'n't any squirrel on 
 them, and Dad was up on the Marias. I thought of 
 that morning when I took the corn to the mill and 
 how mighty nigh I'd come to looking behind the 
 down-tree when the squirrel barked so hard. If I 
 had, mebby everything would have been different 
 now. Mebby Dan would be alive, and Caley Byers. 
 Mebby the owl when he flew out of the bushes and 
 made me believe it was him the squirrel was bark- 
 ing at, took two lives and changed another. Charles 
 was ahead, and Uncle Eldin. They didn't notice the 
 down-tree, and I kept my thoughts to myse'f . It 
 seemed like both of them was plumb strangers to 
 me, and of another tribe. 
 
 I got to figuring. It took two days of hard riding 
 to come from St. Louis, and it would take two to 
 go back, without mishap; I'd best call it three. 
 That was five days out of the ten. If I kept my 
 word I'd have to hustle to get back to St. Louis to 
 catch Mac and give him the ring. And I'd have to 
 do that. Two or three days was all I dared to wait 
 before I started back. I made up my mind to that. 
 I knowed Mac would wait the ten days but no 
 longer, and I must see him and send Bluebird the 
 ring. 
 
 There was a lot of men in Hawkins' store, and 
 Mr. Hawkins was reading the Gazette aloud, when 
 we went in. They all wanted to shake hands at 
 once and was all mighty curious about Dad. "An' 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 307 
 
 thet was the first time ye knowed he'd killed Caley 
 Byers, eh? Gosh A'mighty! What if he'd a-died 
 'thout tellin' ye?" says the blacksmith, spitting at a 
 box of sawdust clean across the store. 
 
 "Well, didn't I always say Lige never shot Caley 
 Byers? Didn't I, say?" Mr. Hawkins looked from 
 one to the other, till finally the blacksmith he'ped 
 him out. 
 
 "Yep," he says, "ye kep' a-sayin' it, shore 'nuff." 
 And Mr. Hawkins took a chew of tobacco and give 
 him one. 
 
 There was teams a-plenty for sale, and directly 
 Uncle Eldin and I went to look at them that was 
 nearby. Charles went off with Lem Cutts' girl, 
 Mandy, and I could see it was a mash, sure enough. 
 But she wa'n't much. Her hair was always mussed 
 like she'd just got up, and her aprons wa'n't ever 
 clean. Besides she was hog-fat, and lazy as Charles 
 every bit. 
 
 We bought a good team of bay mares and paid 
 off the mortgage on the place. Ezra Dyke held to 
 it till I had to pay a whole year's interest that 
 wa'n't due, before he'd let go. Then Uncle Eldin 
 went over to see Doc Seaberry; so by the time we 
 got started back it was past two o'clock, and cloudy. 
 
 I was up early next morning, and figuring on how 
 to tell Aunt Lib I had to go back to St. Louis, I 
 walked down the Coon Creek trail a piece with 
 Bugle. The meadow larks was singing just like 
 they did on the plains, the notes a little different, 
 though, and not so sweet. I could see in my mind 
 the great, endless stretches of green, the rolling 
 land, the treeless land of the buffalo, and I felt 
 shut-in, like, and tied. 
 
 After breakfast we went after Eben, and bar- 
 gained with old man Yenney till I mighty nigh 
 
308 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 shook him. At last he let the boy go for sixty dol- 
 lars, and he come home behind the new team. 
 
 I reckoned I'd done nigh all I could and that I 
 might's well have it over with, so after supper I 
 says, "I've got to go back to St. Louis right away 
 and find Mac. I haven't made up my mind yet, but 
 I reckon I'll come back here. But if I don't, you'll 
 know " 
 
 "That ye've gone back up that river to git yerse'f 
 killed!" Aunt Lib begun to fret again. 
 
 "Mebby I'll come back," I told her. "Anyway, 
 here's four hundred dollars for your own, Aunt Lib. 
 I want you to spend it for anything you want. It's 
 only for you." 
 
 Then she did cry. And I couldn't stop her. 
 
 I called Uncle Eldin out and give him all but ten 
 dollars of what I had left. "Uncle Eldin," I says, 
 "you're a man, an' know I've plumb got to keep my 
 word. I told Mac I'd be back in ten days ; and he's 
 my pardner." 
 
 "When must ye go, boy, to make it?" he asked, 
 going back in the house with me. 
 
 "Soon," I says. 
 
 And right away I climbed up the ladder to the 
 loft. 
 
 I waited till I reckoned they was all asleep ; then, 
 carrying my boots and rifle, I crept out on the shed- 
 roof and let myse'f down to the ground. I felt like 
 it was low-down and ornery to sneak away from 
 my own kin ; but I jest couldn't stand it to see Aunt 
 Lib take on and cry. 
 
 Bugle come dancing around me, and into the barn 
 where my hoss and saddle was. When I led out my 
 hoss, though I knowed he'd howl like all get out, I 
 shut the door on him and rode off. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 When the gate creaked Bugle begun to let folks 
 know where he was. I got on and struck the Injin 
 trot and never quit till plumb noon, when I stopped 
 at a clearing to 'tend to my hoss good, and get my 
 dinner. I waited an hour afterwards to rest my 
 hoss, and then went on. I had to catch Mac, and I 
 didn't have but three days to do it, though I reck- 
 oned that was plenty. I'd send the ring to Bluebird 
 and let it go at that. But I knowed I'd never stand 
 it to live with Aunt Lib again. I reckoned I'd get 
 me a place in St. Louis and stay there. Then if the 
 folks needed me I could he'p them. 
 
 It had been more or less cloudy all day, and along 
 about six o'clock I heered thunder. I couldn't only 
 see a little of the sky through the tree-tops, and it 
 was bad and black, so I reckoned I'd camp at the 
 next clearing and call it a day. 
 
 Directly some big rain drops splattered on me, 
 and the wind, like it had been hid and waiting for a 
 signal, charged the bushes and tree-tops, and they 
 bent and twisted and tossed, their leaves trembling 
 and showing their under sides as though they was 
 scared. Right then, like the wind had shook him 
 down off a limb, a tall man with a long black beard 
 stood in the road ahead, waving his arms. 
 
 I pulled up beside him. He was bare-headed and 
 ragged. "Howdy," I says. And he begun to whim- 
 per and take on mighty bad. 
 
 I got down. "What's ailing you?" I says, taking 
 hold of his arm. 
 
 Then he broke plumb down and cried. His big 
 body shook with sobs and he couldn't talk. 
 
310 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 "I'll he'p you, stranger," I says. "Tell me what's 
 wrong." And I put my hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "I'm af eered she's dyin'," he says, his voice shak- 
 ing like he had the chills. 
 
 It layed hold of me. "What's happened?" I says. 
 "And where is she?" 
 
 "She fell over yonder," he says, pointing out 
 into the heavy timber. 
 
 Mebby we could get her on my hoss, I thought. 
 "Well, let's not stand here," I says. 
 
 He wiped his eyes with his big, dirty hand, and 
 struck out, me at his heels leading my hoss 
 
 It was sprinkling again and thunder was growl- 
 ing. The clouds overhead being black, it was nigh 
 dark under the trees. I could just make out the 
 man's broad back ahead of me as he picked his way 
 among the wet bushes. Directly there come a blind- 
 ing flash of lightning right with a clap of thunder. 
 I thought of that night under the bed in my father's 
 cabin, and Lafe Daws' big cowhide boots leaking 
 water. I was wet plumb to my skin. 
 
 The man stopped by the big root of an over- 
 turned tree. "Look yonder under there," he says, 
 just so I could hear him above the pelting rain. 
 "Ain't it a sight, stranger?" and he begun to whim- 
 per and cry again. 
 
 I bent over and looked into a deep hole the root 
 had tore in the ground. There was a cracking 
 sound that sizzled, like, and a light streaked in my 
 eyes and went out. That's the last I knowed for a 
 long spell. 
 
 When I opened my eyes it was daylight and I was 
 laying on my back in a pool of water. I tried to sit 
 up, but didn't make it. Gobs of mud fell off the 
 root when I moved and rain was falling down 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 311 
 
 through the shining leaves overhead. I was stiff 
 and my head hurt me. I couldn't figure it out. I 
 tried again to sit up, and made it. Then I climbed 
 out of the hole; and the minute I got on my feet I 
 remembered. 
 
 My rifle was gone, and my hoss. My pockets was 
 turned inside out. I was mad clean through, and I 
 reckon that was good for me, warming me up, like. 
 But where was the road? I was all turned around 
 and fuddled. There wa'n't any feeling in my legs, 
 and my arms ached, and my head. I didn't know 
 which way to go, but struck out, stumbling in the 
 bushes that showered me, and falling over logs that 
 barked my shins, till common sense come to he'p 
 me and I sat down to let it. I'd find the sun first; 
 then I'd know where the road was. I reached for 
 my knife, but the pocket being inside-out, I peeled 
 a little twig with my fingers and wet my thumb nail. 
 I set the twig on it, and found the sun, not more 
 than two hours high. Cracky! I might miss Mac. 
 Mebby I'd been a week in the hole. I didn't know. 
 My heart nigh smothered me when I thought mebby 
 the ten days was up. I started on, walking faster 
 than was good for me, till I run onto the road. Then 
 I set out towards St. Louis, weak and sick as a cat. 
 I don't know how long I traveled, nor what time it 
 was, for it was dark when I saw a light in the win- 
 dow of a cabin. 
 
 I remember of somebody opening the door, and 
 that I tried to tell them what had happened to me. 
 Losing my rifle was on my mind, and Mac; but 
 while I was speaking the room teetered and com- 
 menced to whirl. I reached out to take hold of a 
 chair. Then the light went out. 
 
 Directly I heered a man say, "He's coming 
 
312 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 'round. He'p me lift him on the bed. His head's 
 bad-cut an' his hair's full of blood." 
 
 Then I knowed somebody was carrying my head 
 and feet. My body didn't seem to be there; but I 
 didn't care what became of me, noway. 
 
 Directly the light come on and everything was 
 still for a spell, till I heered a woman say, "Mas- 
 sey! he's only a boy. Ye'd best saddle Rusty an' 
 fetch Doc Tate to see him, Laf e. He's got a fever." 
 
 I waked up and went to sleep over and over again, 
 all the time pestering about Mac and my rifle, but 
 only half caring about either. Sometimes I knowed 
 I was talking, though it seemed like somebody fur- 
 nished the words, and they didn't make sense, which 
 I knowed. I'd try to straighten them out, like I was 
 changing Cree to English, but in spite of me they 
 was gibberish, I dreamed a lot of Bluebird; and 
 once I saw the man with the black beard wearing 
 the necklace of little shells she had given me. He 
 had taken it out of my coat pocket, and I followed 
 him till I was plumb tired out trying to get it back. 
 
 By and by my mind got clear and I saw that I 
 was in a bed. A woman come to the bed and bent 
 over me, a woman with a kind, sweet face. 
 
 "How long have I been here?" I asked her, afraid 
 of her answer. 
 
 "This is the tenth day," she says, "but don't fret 
 none, boy. We got plenty of room and lots to eat. 
 Massey! We're right glad to he'p ye." 
 
 Tenth day! Mac had gone. I couldn't send the 
 ring to Bluebird. Mac had said he'd wait ten days. 
 I knowed him. He was gone. I just weakened 
 down, like, and if I'd been a woman I'd sure have 
 cried. 
 
 "Gee, Buck ! Blue !" I could hear a man plowing 
 over in the clearing and see him through the open 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 313 
 
 door which was bordered with morning-glory vines 
 in bloom. A blue jay in a stick cage on a bench out- 
 side, jabbered at others of his kind in the trees, 
 like he envied them; and I sure knowed he did. 
 There was a clock that ticked slow, with brass 
 hands, and a picture of George Washington on a 
 hoss. The glass was cracked on it, and I reckoned 
 the roof had leaked sometimes, for the picture was 
 mighty nigh spoiled by a yellow streak cutting the 
 hoss plumb in two. 
 
 "Cracky!" I says, fretting, and the woman sat 
 down on my bed and put a cold cloth on my fore- 
 head. I shut my eyes to think. I'd have to find 
 somebody to take the ring up the river. I'd have 
 to. I couldn't lay there like a knot on a log, noway. 
 I opened my eyes again and they lit on a good-look- 
 ing rifle over the fireplace. I hoped mine would 
 bust and kill the man that stole it; only I hated to 
 have the old gun spoiled, or bear the disgrace of 
 busting. 
 
 "I plumb got to get to St. Louis," I says, trying 
 to sit up. 
 
 "There," she says, pushing me back, kind and 
 gentle. "I know it's been pesterin' ye right smart," 
 she says, like I'd told it before, "but ye cain't travel 
 yit. Mebby in four or five days if ye're good an* 
 stay quiet. Lafe'll take ye to town as soon's ye 
 kin go." 
 
 And there wa'n't anything to do, only lay there 
 and wait; and I knowed it. 
 
 Their name was Bartlett Lafe and Susan Bart- 
 lett good folks as ever lived, and kind. I sure 
 made it up to them both, with an extra present for 
 her, besides, when at last Lafe drove me to St. 
 Louis. I'll never forget them as long as I live, and 
 keep my mind. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 Mr. Shipman was right glad to see me and won- 
 dered what had kept me. I told him what hap- 
 pened, and quick as I could, says, "Have you seen 
 Mac?" 
 
 I held my breath. 
 
 "Not for several days," he told me; and I let go 
 and give it up. 
 
 "He kept coming to me for money and I reckon 
 he's had a big spree. The last time I saw him four 
 or five days ago he bought a bill of goods which 
 he told me he was sending up the river with a boat. 
 His money's all been drawn, and he may have gone 
 himse'f ; but I reckon you'll find him about town." 
 
 I knowed I wouldn't, though I'd look. He had 
 waited more than ten days, I figured. There wa'n't 
 any time to fool. I got three hundred dollars and 
 started out. 
 
 "Are you going up the river, Mounts?" Mr. Ship- 
 man asked, walking with me towards the door. 
 
 "I haven't made up my mind, yet, sir," I says. 
 "But anyway I need a hoss and some things." I 
 wouldn't have to buy a rifle, noway. Dad's was 
 mine, and there wa'n't any better gun. 
 
 I went every place; and asked nigh everybody I 
 reckoned might know of Mac, if they'd seen him; 
 but they hadn't, not for days. Some men said he 
 was gone, they reckoned, and others said he was 
 here, or there, they reckoned; but I could see they 
 was only making talk. I was leaving the Albemarle 
 tavern and dance-hall when somebody called me by 
 
 314 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 315 
 
 name, making me nigh jump out of my boots. It 
 was Alex Beasley, sober as a judge, and as tickled 
 to see me as I was to see him. 
 
 "You seen Mac?" I says first thing. 
 
 "He's pulled out," he told me. "He had a big 
 spree, him an* a Frenchman, St. Pierre. I was with 
 them six nights ago, and they said they was going 
 up the river in the morning. I ain't seen 'em since." 
 
 That settled it. Even though I'd knowed he was 
 gone, when Alex told me I felt plumb left out and 
 miserable. 
 
 We went back into the tavern and Alex, moving 
 a chair to a table, says, "Sit down, Lige," and we 
 both sat down to visit. It was good to see Alex 
 again, and I needed to talk. 
 
 "Tell me how you made out with the Crees," he 
 says, going on, before I could start, to tell me that 
 Jake and himse'f was pulling out in a day or two 
 for old Fort Lisa with the last supplies they'd use 
 there. " 'Tain't far from the mouth of the Platte," 
 he says, pouring liquor into two glasses the man 
 fetched to the table. 
 
 "Better go along with us," he says, lifting a glass. 
 "Come," he says, "here's to old Dad, the best man 
 that was ever on the plains !" 
 
 I picked up my glass and downed the liquor. I'd 
 drink to that. Alex was Dad's pardner and mine. 
 
 I told him about my luck and finally about the 
 fight with the Blackfeet hoss thieves. That tickled 
 him and he poured put more liquor, and I drank 
 with him. Directly they lit candles, but having so 
 much to say, we never budged. I drank when Alex 
 did, though not so much, at first. 
 
 Directly some women come in, and the fiddles 
 started. Alex got up and danced, but not knowing 
 
316 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 how to dance, I sat there till he'd finished. Then 
 he and two women sat down at the table and he got 
 one of them called Belle to sing "Should Auld 
 Acquaintance Be Forgot." Alex cried over the 
 song, till Belle says, "Come on. Good God! let's 
 not be mournful. Let's dance." 
 
 They wanted me to try it, and at last I did, 
 though I knowed I couldn't dance a lick. There was 
 a lot of singing and two fights. But the fights was 
 stopped quick as they started. A big yaller nigger 
 took care of that. He was a bully and needed kill- 
 ing. I saw him hit a Frenchman and break his jaw, 
 because he put his arm around a couple that was 
 dancing. It made me want to go to war, myse'f . 
 That was early in the evening. But what went on 
 afterwards I don't remember. 
 
 It was afternoon when I waked up, in a stuffy 
 little room without a window in it. My head was 
 thumping awful, and the room was a sight every- 
 thing on the floor, including myse'f old clothes, 
 men's and women's, and jugs, and filth, too. My 
 mouth was parched, so that when I tried to call 
 Alex, I couldn't. 
 
 I got up and went to the door that let in what 
 light there was. I felt sick and dizzy. I went out 
 into a hall, nigh as dark as the room, and stumbled 
 along to a door at its end. Cracky ! when I opened 
 it the light cut through my eyes into my brain, and 
 I nigh fell down. Every heart-beat felt like some- 
 thing was pounding on a boil in my head. 
 
 "Mornin'." A big fat-faced man was slapping at 
 flies on the bar with a towel. 
 
 "Howdy," I says, wondering where I was. 
 
 "Hev a little something?" he says, reaching for 
 a jug. 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 317 
 
 "Not by a damn sight !" I says, and I went on out 
 through the front door. 
 
 I cut straight as I could for the river bank and 
 kneeling down in the shade of a big warehouse, 
 drank till I thought I'd bust. Then I crawled up 
 and layed down in the shade, too sick to care what 
 was going on. 
 
 It was nigh sundown when I sat up and went 
 down to the water to drink again. I slipped out of 
 my clothes and into the river. How good and clean 
 it felt! I washed me with sand from the bank. 
 When I come to scrub my hands I caught my breath 
 like somebody had hit me in the stomach. My ring 
 was gone ! 
 
 I waded out and took up my clothes. Every 
 pocket was empty. "Twice in two weeks," I says 
 aloud. "Twice in two weeks ; and in the land where 
 there's law and religion." And I knowed they'd 
 done it oftener, mebby if I hadn't been in bed most 
 of the time. 
 
 I dressed and sat down and thought it out. I 
 hadn't wanted to go back, but everything connived 
 to make me go. I'd tried to keep away from it, hard 
 as any man ever tried; but it wa'n't any use. I'd 
 go back. And once I made up my mind I felt bet- 
 ter as though I could have cured myse'f of a sick- 
 ness any time I had minded to. I got up and lit out 
 for Shipman and Company's store. "Give me my 
 clothes and my rifle/ I says, breathless, "an' five 
 hundred dollars." 
 
 Mr. Shipman handed them out, and the money. 
 "Going back up the river?" he asked, smiling. 
 
 "Yes, sir," I says, "I reckon I am." And I went 
 out and down to the warehouse again to change my 
 clothes. 
 
S18 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 It didn't take long, I can tell you. And when I 
 threw the coat and pants and vest and boots into 
 the river, "Keep out of the shadows," I told them, 
 feeling better'n I had in a month. "Keep close to- 
 gether, an' mebby you'll find more law. I'm goin' 
 back where there ain't any !" 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 I bought the best hoss I could find, and next 
 morning dickered for two good pack-hosses, besides. 
 Then I went back to the store and bought all they 
 could carry of goods and presents and powder and 
 lead. I drew out what money was left, and by sun- 
 down I was ready to go. 
 
 I found Alex and Jake and camped with them 
 that night, so that we started early for Fort Lisa; 
 where after more than twenty days' traveling, I left 
 them, to go it alone. I lightened packs a little there, 
 and at a profit, and rested a week before I set out 
 to try to get to the Marias and find the Crees. 
 
 I traveled early and late. The nearer I got to the 
 mouth of the Yellowstone, the faster I wanted to go, 
 till both myse'f and the hosses was plumb wore out. 
 I knowed I was in bad Injin country, but I couldn't 
 go any farther. I had to sleep and rest my stock. 
 
 It was on the Little Missouri that I hid away in 
 a snug grove of young quaking aspens, with here 
 and there a cottonwood. I had only rested three 
 times for a day and a night, and my hosses was 
 skin and bone. Here the grass was good, and I 
 staked them out where they could be close in, and 
 made me a bed. When I waked the hosses had 
 cleaned up the grass around them, so I got up and 
 moved to a new place. I couldn't keep awake, now 
 I'd let go, though I knowed I was taking a big 
 chance when I layed down again. 
 
 I moved the hosses and packs three times, and for 
 three days slept most of the time, feeling somehow 
 surer and surer that I was safe. One afternoon 
 
 319 
 
320 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 when it was hot as all time, the plains blistering, 
 not a breath of air stirring, and not a speck in the 
 sky, my saddle-hoss suddenly snorted and pricked 
 his ears. I was up and had my rifle cocked quicker'n 
 a wink. I couldn't see nor hear a thing, but I 
 knowed I was in for it, and my knees went weak a 
 little when I thought what a fool I'd been. The 
 sweat prickled out on my face, and I turned around. 
 
 "Don't be foolish, man." 
 
 English! A man's voice. And in a clump of 
 bushes I saw a black face with a great nose mashed 
 and scarred. God ! what a face. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha ! I ain't much shakes for beauty, be 
 I?" His laugh made shivers run up and down my 
 back. I was glued to the spot. 
 
 "Don't ye make any bad motions," he says, get- 
 ting up on his knees. "The Crows is all around ye. 
 They've got yer hosses already, an' they'll take yer 
 hair, too, if ye ain't mighty keerful." He stood up, 
 a giant of a man, coming towards me, his sullen 
 eyes fixed on mine like a snake's. "Put down yer 
 rifle. I'm Rose," he said, "an' I'm Chief of the 
 Crow-people; Edwin Rose." 
 
 I lowered my gun. I knowed they had me, though 
 mebby there'd be some way out. I could have killed 
 him easy; but I knowed the brush was alive with 
 Crows and that I'd die with him. 
 
 "I reckon you got me, Rose," I says, as calm as I 
 could. "What do you want?" 
 
 He laughed again, and I'd rather have heered 
 him cuss. 
 
 "Yes," he says, "easy, easy ! But where's the rest 
 of yer outfit. Who's with ye?" 
 
 "I'm plumb alone," I told him. 
 
 He sat down, and I did. I couldn't do anything 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 321 
 
 else, and I knowed it. "I'm trying to get to the 
 Crees," I says. "They are my friends, and I want to 
 get back to them. I'm plumb wore out. 
 
 "Crees, hey?" 
 
 I thought I saw scheming quicken his dull eyes. 
 He spoke loud in Crow to some In j ins that had 
 closed in on my camp and they sat down where they 
 was. One of them had my saddle-horse. Rose filled 
 his pipe and struck a light with his flint and steel. 
 Then, like we was old friends, he passed his pipe to 
 me. I knowed my life was safe then, though I 
 wa'n't sure what he'd do with me. 
 
 "The Crees are enemies of the Blackfeet, an' so 
 are we," he said, taking back the pipe. "Give us 
 some powder an* lead an* I'll let ye go. But don't 
 sleep no more." 
 
 I remembered what Dad had said of Rose. "Nez 
 Coup," he called him. Likely he figured I'd he'p 
 hold the Crees friendly to him. I took his hand and 
 shook it. "I'll give you half I got," I told him, "and 
 if after I get to the Crees, you ever need me, I'll 
 he'p you, if I can." 
 
 He didn't answer nor speak for nigh a minute. 
 Then he says, "Git the powder and lead. They 
 won't bother ye. Then you git out of this country." 
 
 "I'm going to," I said "But do you know where 
 I'm likely to find the Crees now?" 
 
 "Up, 'way up the Marias," he told me. "Remem- 
 ber, don't sleep, keep traveling," he says. 
 
 I give him four kegs of powder and half my lead. 
 
 "If the Blackfeet ketch ye they won't treat ye as 
 I do," he says, like he was half -sorry he'd smoked 
 with me. 
 
 But I hustled up and packed so I could travel with 
 them as long as they went my way, for I knowed 
 
322 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 that after making peace the way they did they 
 would stay friendly while I was with them, anyway. 
 They was bigger and taller than the Crees, I 
 thought, and some of them was fat. All rode fine 
 hosses and all had good weapons bows and quite 
 a few guns. Before sundown they turned off south, 
 and I left them, to go it alone. 
 
 As soon as they was out of sight I tailed up my 
 hosses and lit out as fast as I could go, tickled nigh 
 to death to be alive. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 I was rested and my hosses feeling a heap better : 
 so I kept on till I come to a little stream that 
 emptied into the Missouri, where I camped. I didn't 
 make a fire but ate a cold snack of dried meat. The 
 night was sultry and hot, and the buffalo-gnats 
 mighty nigh drove the hosses crazy, and me too. 
 They was thick in the air and I could hear them 
 hum the night through, and twice breathed them 
 into my lungs. "No-seeums," the In j ins call them. 
 I reckon nothing that lives is worse, or harder to 
 get along with. I'd have gone on, only I knowed 
 that I'd have to save my hosses more and more now, 
 for I might be jumped any minute and have to make 
 a run for it. I couldn't have slept if I'd wanted to. 
 I sat out where I could see over the plains and along 
 the willows and brush up and down the creek. 
 Wolves fooled me more than once, slipping along 
 the brush like shadows, and towards morning a 
 band of antelope like to run over me. If I could 
 only make the Ashley-Henry Post, I'd rest for a 
 whole week, before I went on. 
 
 I knowed that when the sun got up it would be 
 hotter'n all time, so I was traveling before day- 
 light, and kept a good gait for a long spell. I had 
 been cutting across the country like we had done 
 before, to save time, and by four o'clock made out 
 by the trees where the Missouri and the Yellow- 
 stone come together. I knowed I could make it by 
 sundown. It was worth trying, because once inside 
 the stockade I could sleep and rest the hosses. I 
 got on and whipped up, though I knowed it was 
 
 323 
 
324 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 hard on them, telling myse'f it was right to hurry 
 when I knowed it wa'n't, for I was so wore out I 
 wa'n't myse'f. 
 
 I strained my eyes on the spot where I remem- 
 bered the Post was, till the tears come. Nobody was 
 in sight. I knowed my outfit would look small and 
 no-account, but somebody would meet me ; somebody 
 would know I was white and ride out to say a 
 "howdy." I was sure of it. 
 
 Directly I passed the spot where they'd met up 
 with us before, and right then a dread layed hold 
 of me that was hard and cold as ice. I tried to 
 shake it off. "They're busy, likely," I says. But 
 my feelings was hurt. I'd figured on being met up 
 with, and for more'n a month it had seemed like a 
 big gobbler at a turkey-shoot something worth 
 while to win. I didn't slow down. I couldn't. I 
 was shaky all over, and hungry for cooked meat. 
 Mebby they took me for an Injin. I reckoned that 
 was it. 
 
 Directly I could see the mouth of the Yellowstone. 
 There was the old cottonwood snag with the goose- 
 nest on it, and the square-topped knoll, and the yel- 
 low bank. But where was the Post? Where was 
 the people? 
 
 I got down off my hoss and run up a little knoll 
 to look. The Post was gone! Plumb gone! Only 
 a part of the stockade was standing and even that 
 was black and charred by fire. The Blackfeet, or 
 mebby Nez Coup and his Crows, had burned it. 
 There wa'n't any Post ! 
 
 It was a gut-shot. I sat down, plumb wore out, 
 and sick, with a misery that a man hates to own 
 up to knowing. I was scared and homesick and 
 lonesome all in one, and mighty bad. Sweat 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 325 
 
 prickled out all over me. Then a wild goose gonked 
 down on the water, and I got hold of myse'f to 
 think. He could take care of himse'f , and I could. 
 I went back to my hosses. One of them was laying 
 down with his pack, all sweaty and weak. I got 
 him up, feeling plumb ashamed of myse'f, and 
 mighty soon found a place to hide and rest up. 
 
 I knowed I wouldn't get any more sleep than a 
 rabbit staked to an ant-hill; but just as soon as I 
 did know it I cooled off and begun to figure. I'd 
 crossed the Missouri where we had crossed it with 
 Mike Fink, and I wouldn't go back. I'd cross the 
 Yellowstone and then cut the country till I struck 
 the Missouri again. When I did strike it, I'd 
 cross it. 
 
 I had a time fording the Yellowstone; keeping 
 my packs dry and safe, but after three days' rest I 
 made it, and lit out. More than once I was sorry 
 for leaving the Missouri, and thought sometimes 
 I'd never reach it again. But I did, and crossed it, 
 easy. 
 
 I hadn't built a decent fire in more'n a month, 
 and was so plumb tired of half-roasted sage-hens 
 that I'd have given a heap for a buffalo-steak. But 
 I daren't kill anything with my rifle. I got my sage- 
 hens with rocks, and more than once weakened and 
 didn't cook them after I'd killed them. 
 
 When I crossed the Missouri I begun to hide out 
 all day and travel all night. It was cooler and safer 
 and my hosses even picked up a little, though their 
 feet was mighty sore. I reckoned that if I could 
 only get to the Crees I'd turn them into the pony 
 band and just let them feed up and rest till they 
 died. 
 
 The nearer I got to the Marias the more scared I 
 
326 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 was that I'd never make it. I hadn't slept five hours 
 in more'n a week, and nigh anything would make 
 me jump and prickle. Once just at sunup signal 
 smoke made me hide away mighty quick. Twice I 
 found where buffalo had been fresh-killed, and one 
 time I got some meat that was left, but only a little. 
 My moccasins, the last I had, was playing out, for 
 I'd walked a heap to keep my hoss rested. I never 
 knowed when I'd need all that was in him, and I 
 saved him what I could. 
 
 Passing in sight of the Little Mountains, blue in 
 the sunset light, I run onto fresh Injin sign in a 
 cottonwood grove. A big village had been there and 
 had moved on down the stream, so that I figured I'd 
 passed them without knowing it. 
 
 The nights had been getting cooler for a long 
 spell, and the grass on the plains was dry' now. 
 Signs of fall was on every bush; and by the time I 
 come to the Marias the leaves on the quaking aspens 
 had turned yellow and gold. 
 
 Our stockade was gone burned up, with only a 
 charred log left here and there. I had figured on 
 that, so it wa'n't a surprise to me like the other had 
 been. It was getting daylight when I come onto it, 
 so I hid away nigh half a mile up the Marias and 
 waited for night to close in again. I didn't intend 
 to move early, nohow, so when dark fell I slipped 
 over to where Dad and Bill was resting and sat 
 down. It was a chill night, and no moon, but the 
 sky was plumb peppered with stars, like I'd seen 
 it many a time before; and sitting there I felt like 
 I was back with home-folks. 
 
 "Dad," I says out loud, like he could hear me, "I 
 been down yonder for a spell, and I reckon I've 
 come back here to stay. I remember all you said; 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 327 
 
 but it's a heap better here than in the lower coun- 
 try, and I've come back. I've got your rifle, Dad. 
 I kep' it," I says, "an' always will. I'm plumb tired 
 and off my feed and fretting, like, but I don't aim 
 to go away any more, Dad. I'll come to see you 
 again, some day, if they don't get me and Bill," I 
 says, feeling like I'd forgot and left him plumb out. 
 
 I mighty nigh let go, I was so wore out; but I 
 held onto myse'f and went back where my camp 
 was hid to pack up and light out again. 
 
 I didn't ride a step, though my feet was nigh 
 bare, so that I flinched when I set them on sharp 
 stones. I made out to keep at it right steady for 
 three nights, feeling sure that luck was with me, 
 but being half afraid to let on that I knowed it, for 
 fear it would quit. On the fourth morning, and 
 just when I'd begun to look for a place to hide for 
 the day, I saw a hoss. 
 
 I turned into the brush quick, unpacked, and tied 
 up the stock. Then I set out to see how bad a fix 
 I was in. Goodness knows, I'd been hoping to see 
 hosses, but it made a heap of difference who owned 
 them. I slipped up a coulee till I come to a knoll 
 high enough to he'p me look around, and climbed it. 
 There, not two miles away, was a pony band, hun- 
 dreds of hosses. I plumb had to know who they 
 belonged to. I layed there flat on my belly till nigh 
 noon, when I saw two Injins coming towards me, 
 riding slow. Figuring that if they come on they'd 
 see me, and that I could slip back and down the 
 coulee, and mebby get into the brush, I was about 
 to move, when here come four more. I begun to 
 wonder if I'd been seen, and if they was out to 
 jump me. I slid back out of sight, but just as I 
 
328 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 a band of antelope off to my left a little. My 
 breath come easier. They was out to kill antelope, 
 and was getting the wind of them, likely. I poked 
 my head back up over the knoll. In a minute I 
 knowed they was Crees. My heart skipped a beat, 
 I was so glad. 
 
 First I thought I'd stand up and call; but I 
 didn't; I let them go on. And I run down that lit- 
 tle coulee, talking to myse'f and laughing like I was 
 plumb crazy. I got the packs back on quick as I 
 could, though my fingers fumbled, and headed 
 across a big bend the Marias made. I'd seen it 
 from the knoll, and figured the village was there 
 behind the hill. 
 
 Directly I saw a scout stand up on the hilltop. 
 He would signal the village. I'd stop him. I 
 waved my rifle and hollered; but he swung a buf- 
 falo robe in a circle over his head, and before I 
 could cut loose, disappeared. It would set men to 
 running for their hosses. I tugged hard at the 
 lead-rope, nigh dragging the packs to the top of the 
 hill. There I saw them more'n a hundred big 
 lodges, sleek and smooth in the sunlight, beside the 
 Marias. 
 
 I could see men mounting war-hosses and women 
 running about the lodges. I'd stop the fuss. I 
 commenced to sing a Cree song a love song, riding 
 down the hill and looking at the village like it was 
 my home and I'd been gone too long. 
 
 The fussing stopped, and a drum begun to beat. 
 They knowed me ! Voices took up the song till half 
 the village was singing. Wore out as I was I felt 
 my heart jump and get light inside me. They was 
 coming to meet me Mac, good old Mac, was com- 
 ing ! I snatched off my head-silk and waved it, my 
 
LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 329 
 
 heels pounding my boss's sides. He was bare- 
 headed, the wind ruffling his hair ; and he was laugh- 
 ing laughing as a child laughs that is nigh to 
 tears, when we met up. 
 
 "Oh, Lone Wolf!" be cried, throwing his arms 
 'round my waist like he'd lift me down. "I thought 
 that I had lost you. My heart was on the ground !" 
 
 Yellow Bear, his good face smiling his gladness, 
 struck his deep chest with his fist. "Ho! Lone 
 Wolf, brother !" he cried. "My heart is big with the 
 joy of your coming." He took the lead-rope from 
 my hand to walk into the village beside my boss. 
 "See," he pointed, "Red Robe is waiting at his lodge 
 door to give you welcome." 
 
 He was ! And Bluebird, and all the family, nigh 
 the open door. Her lips was smiling and I thought 
 her eyes looked glad. 
 
 "Lone Wolf ! Lone Wolf !" Men called my name, 
 laughing happy, and women moving with them fol- 
 lowed us to Red Robe's lodge, where I stopped and 
 held up my hand. 
 
 "Hear, all the people!" I says, my heart filled 
 with pride. "From this day on forever Lone Wolf 
 isaCree!" 
 
 To-tum, to-tum, to-tum, a drum begun to beat 
 again, and some young men sang of hunting. 
 
 I got down, from my boss. 
 
 "I have not lied," I said to Red Robe. "The 
 month of roses has not passed a second time since I 
 went away. And now I have come back for your 
 daughter; for Bluebird, my woman." 
 
 Then I looked at her, and her eyes was waiting. 
 They couldn't lie. They was full of soft, unspoken 
 words. I wondered how I could have left her. I 
 heered Red Robe talking. "Shall you pitch your 
 
330 LIGE MOUNTS: FREE TRAPPER 
 
 lodge with us, her people, or shall you leave us, 
 Lone Wolf?" 
 
 "Wherever you go, there I will go, Red Robe," I 
 told him, and heered the people murmur, "Mee- 
 wah-sin." 
 
 "Ho! my son," he said. 
 
 Then, gentle as a woman, he put Bluebird's hand 
 in mine, and turned away. 
 
 And Mac, good Mac, to he'p us, pulled a robe 
 from my saddle and tossed it over her head and 
 mine. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
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