himself. There were hearty handshakes and many questions between the four delighted friends, and presently Baptiste said, “Casse-tête, let us go now to my cabane, and there we will eat and smoke. I have many things to ask you.”

“All right,” said Hugh. “Just wait a minute till I see about our beds.”

In the meantime Jack and Joe had engaged in a sort of war dance, followed by a wrestling match, to express their joy at meeting again, and then Jack thought of the beds on the coach and ran and unstrapped the leather apron which covered the baggage rack, and the two boys, loosening the lashings, threw the beds on the ground by the hotel door.

“Hello,” said Hugh, “those boys have got our beds off now. We can go on. Just set those beds inside the office, and tell the clerk we’ll stop for them with the wagon when we start. Then come on to Bat’s cabin.”

Before long Hugh and Jack were seated in the cabin, while Baptiste and Joe were busily engaged in the work of preparing breakfast. Soon all were seated at the table. The fare was simple, but heartily enjoyed, for all had healthy appetites and contented minds.

“How are you getting on, Bat?” said Hugh. “How do you live? Just about as you did a couple of years ago?”

“Yes,” said Baptiste; “I live well; I always have lived well since you and these boys came in from the north and made me that fine present of the gold that you think I lost many years ago. Every month the bank pays me my money, and then besides I work a little for the company at the furs, so they pay me something, and I have some money that I can spend. I have bought me two horses, and sometimes I go off on a hunt; sometimes I trap a little. It is not much, but it is pleasant; it brings back to my mind the old days. Also, my mind is better than it was. I do not forget things as I used to. It was a good thing for me when you three men came in from the north and found me here, and you would not have found me except for the charger that Jack picked up on the prairie.”

“Doesn’t it seem wonderful that the finding of that little piece of metal should have changed a man’s life as yours has been changed, Baptiste?” said Jack.

“Yes,” said Hugh; “we, none of us, can ever tell what influence the smallest thing we do will have on other people. Now, Joe,” he went on, “have you got a team here, and are you ready to take us out to the camp, as Mr. Sturgis wrote you?”

“Yes,” said Joe, “the team’s here and the wagon, and I reckon we can make the agency in three or four days and we can start just whenever you are ready. I’ve got a mess outfit and some coffee and sugar and bacon and flour, and if you need anything more we can get it here. I’m ready to start as soon as you are.”

“Well,” said Hugh, “the sooner we get off the better, I expect. What do you say, son?”

“Why,” replied Jack, “you can’t start too soon for me. I’m anxious to get to the camp, and then into the mountains. I always feel as if I didn’t have much time out here anyhow, and I want to make the most of what I have.”

“Well, then,” said Hugh, as they pushed back their chairs from the table, “let’s sit down and smoke a pipe and talk for a little while, and then you and Jack can go and get the team, and Bat and I will sit here and chew the rag about old times until you come for us. Get the beds and the bags when you come by the hotel, and then we can pull right out. I reckon Joe has grub enough and we won’t have to buy anything here without it is a piece of fresh meat. We might get beef enough for two or three meals, but the weather is kind o’ hot now, and likely there’ll be a chance to get meat at some of the ranches we pass if we need it.”

For a time Hugh and Baptiste sat together talking about the old trapping days, bringing up one after another the names of men whom they had known, and relating incidents of hunting, trapping, buffalo chasing, and Indian fighting. Jack thought it was good to listen to, but at length Hugh turned to the boys and said, “Well, go on now and get your wagon and we’ll pull out. It’s a long ways from here to the agency, and every hour we lose on this end we’ve got to make up on the other.”

The boys started off for the team, leaving the old men to sit in the sun and talk about the past. A little later the wagon drew up to the door, and Hugh, after glancing through its contents and tightening one of the ropes that lashed on the load, said, “Well, we may as well be going. Good-by, Bat; we’re likely to get back here about two months hence, and we’ll meet then. I reckon up in the camp we’ll see all the Monroes and old man Choquette, but those are all the old-timers we’re likely to meet. So long,” and he climbed into the wagon.

“Good-by, Baptiste,” said Jack, as he shook hands, and Joe, reaching down from the driver’s seat, pressed the old man’s hand without a word.

“Good-by, my friends, good-by,” said Baptiste. “It has been good to see you. Always your coming brings joy to my heart. I shall look for you to come again.”

Joe gathered up the reins, spoke to the horses, and in a moment they were rattling along the street headed for the road leading up the Teton River.

It was a beautiful day. The air was cool and pleasant, yet the sun shone warm. The prairie and the distant hills were still green, and beautiful flowers dotted the plain. From the top of almost every sage brush came the sweet, mellow whistle of the meadow lark. In the air all about birds were rising from the ground, singing as though their throats would burst, and then after reaching a certain height, slowly floating down again on outspread wings, the song ending just as they reached the ground.

After they had gone a short distance away from the town the country seemed as lonely as the wildest prairie. Far off, here and there, grazed a few cattle or horses. Ahead of them the white, level road wound about among the bushes of the sage. To Jack it was all very delightful. The change from the crowded city was absolute, and as he looked about him and enjoyed his surroundings his heart seemed to swell within his breast, and he felt as though he could hardly speak.

Presently Joe said to Hugh, “Have you plenty of room, White Bull? I got this extra wide seat before I started because I thought we’d all want to sit on one seat, but I don’t know whether it gives you room enough.”

“Oh, yes,” said Hugh, “there’s lots of room for all of us.”

“Yes,” said Jack, “we could pretty nearly put another man here.”

“Now, Joe,” said Hugh a little later, “I want to ask you something about the people. I heard that two years ago, and maybe last year also, they starved, and that many of them died. I heard, too, that even up here the buffalo have all gone.”

“Yes,” said Joe, “that is true. Two years ago and also last year the people starved, but it was two years ago that the most of them died, that is, one winter back from this winter that has just passed. Old Four Bears kept a kind of count on a stick, cutting a notch for every person that died, and they say that nearly six hundred of the people starved to death. There was no food. The buffalo had not been seen for two winters. The people had hunted and sometimes killed an elk or a deer or a few antelope, but at last these had all been killed, and there was left nothing but rabbits and such birds as we could shoot or snare. It was a hard time; everybody was hungry. Everybody got poor. Even people that had once been heavy and had much fat on their bodies grew lean and thin. When you looked at the old people, the women and the children, you could see their bones sticking out against the skin. The little children and the old people were the ones that died. The men and the women were very hungry and got weak, but they did not die. White Calf, who is now the