ntelligible to Dick, who replied, in the little Pawnee he
could muster, that he didn't understand him.

"Why, you must be a trapper!" exclaimed a thick-set, middle-aged man,
riding out from the group. "Can you speak English?"

"Ay, that can I," cried Dick, joyfully, riding up and shaking the
stranger heartily by the hand; "an' right glad am I to fall in wi' a
white-skin an' a civil tongue in his head."

"Good sooth, sir," replied the stranger, with a quiet smile on his kind,
weather-beaten face, "I can return you the compliment, for when I saw
you come thundering down the corrie with that wonderful horse and no
less wonderful dog of yours, I thought you were the wild man o' the
mountain himself, and had an ambush ready to back you. But, young man,
do you mean to say that you live here in the mountain all alone after
this fashion?"

"No, that I don't. I've comed here in my travels; but, truly, this
bean't my home. But, sir (for I see you are what the fur-traders call a
bourgeois), how comes it that such a band as this rides i' the
mountains! D'ye mean to say that _they_ live here?" Dick looked round
in surprise, as he spoke, upon the crowd of mounted men and women, with
children and pack-horses, that now surrounded him.

"'Tis a fair question, lad. I am a principal among the fur-traders
whose chief trading-post lies near the Pacific Ocean, on the west side
of these mountains, and I have come with these trappers and their
families, as you see, to hunt the beaver and other animals for a season
in the mountains. We've never been here before; but that's a matter of
little moment, for it's not the first time I've been on what may be
called a discovery-trading expedition. We are somewhat entangled,
however, just now, among these wild passes, and, if you can guide us out
of our difficulties to the east side of the mountains, I'll thank you
heartily and pay you well. But first tell me who and what you are, if
it's a fair question."

"My name is Dick Varley, and my home's in the Mustang Valley, near the
Missouri river. As to _what_ I am--I'm nothin' yet, but I hope to
desarve the name o' a hunter some day. I can guide you to the east side
o' the mountains, for I've comed from there; but more than that I can't
do, for I'm a stranger to the country here, like yourself. But you're
on the east side o' the mountains already, if I mistake not; only these
mountains are so rugged and jumbled up, that it's not easy tell