ting expeditions for several years; but he had already begun to turn
his attention to farming. His only neighbor at that time was Kit
Cruncher, with whom he exchanged corn and pork for game and buffalo
meat. Matt was disposed to indulge more in the comforts of civilization
than the hunters and trappers generally do. He sold wood to the
steamers that passed, and thus obtained money enough to purchase
clothing, groceries, and other supplies.

When I was about seven years old Matt began to take me with him when he
went hunting and fishing, and I soon learned to be of some service to
him. I acquired all the arts of the backwoodsman, and soon became quite
skilful. I worked in the field, and tramped a dozen miles a day with
him. I was tough and sinewy, and knew not the meaning of luxury. My
clothes were made by old Matt, until I was able with his help to
manufacture them myself.

It was a fortunate thing for me that Mr. Mellowtone established himself
in the vicinity of the Castle, for he took an interest in me, and
taught me to read and write. He was a singular man; but I shall have
more to say of him by and by. Until he came, I spoke the rude patois of
Kit and Matt; but Mr. Mellowtone taught me a new language, and insisted
that I should speak it.

Matt had been a pioneer in Indiana, but had afterwards engaged in trade
and failed. His ill success had driven him into the far west to resume
his pioneer habits. Even then he had passed the meridian of life; but
he cleared up a farm, and had been prosperous in his undertakings. The
sale of wood and the produce of the field to the steamers brought in
considerable money, and he had supplied himself with all needed farm
implements, so that we were able to work to advantage. We had a
grist-mill, turned by horse power, which enabled us to convert our corn
into meal. We raised pigs, and always had an abundant supply of pork
and bacon.

I was about thirteen years old when my story opens. I was contented
with my lot, though I was occasionally troubled to ascertain who my
parents were. Matt had no doubt they were both dead, since no inquiries
had ever been made for the lost child. Some day I expected to visit the
regions of civilization, and see the great world. Only twice in my life
had I seen any white women, at least within my memory. They were on the
deck of a steamer, lying at our wood-yard near the mouth of Fish Creek.
I had a reasonable curiosity, which I hoped to gratify when I