be said to be nonsense. In pint o' fact, there
ain't no sich a thing as settlin' down. When a feller sits down, why,
in a short bit, he's bound to rise up agin, and when he goes to bed, he
means for to get up next mornin'." (Here Bounce paused, drew several
whiffs, and rammed down the tobacco in his pipe with the end of his
little finger.) "Then, when a feller locates in a place, he's sure for
to be movin' about, more or less, as long as he's got a leg to stand on.
Now, what I say is, that when a man comes to talk o' settlin' down,
he's losin' heart for a wanderin' life among all the beautiful things o'
creation; an' when a man loses heart for the beautiful things o'
creation, he'll soon settle down for good and all. He's in a bad way,
he is, and oughtn't to encourage hisself in sich feelin's. I b'lieve
that to be the feelosophy o' the whole affair, and I don't b'lieve that
nobody o' common edication--I don't mean school edication, but backwoods
edication--would go for to think otherwise. Wot say you, Waller?"

"Sartinly not," replied the individual thus appealed to.

Big Waller had a deep reverence for the supposed wisdom of his friend
Bounce. He listened to his lucubrations with earnest attention at all
times, and, when he understood them, usually assented to all his friend
said. When Bounce became too profound for him, as was not infrequently
the case, he contented himself with nodding his head, as though to say,
"I'm with you in heart, lad, though not quite clear in my mind; but it's
all right, I'm quite sartin."

"Well, then," resumed Bounce, turning to Redhand, "what do _you_ think
o' them sentiments, old man?"

Redhand, who had been paying no attention whatever to these sentiments,
but, during the delivery of them, had been gazing wistfully out upon the
wide expanse of country before him, laid his hand on Bounce's shoulder,
and said in a low, earnest tone--

"It's a grand country! D'ye see the little clear spot yonder, on the
river bank, with the aspen grove behind it, an' the run of prairie on
the right, an' the little lake not a gun-shot off on the left? That's
the spot I've sometimes thought of locatin' on when my gun begins to
feel too heavy. There'll be cities there some day. Bricks and mortar
and stone 'll change its face--an' cornfields, an'--but not in our day,
lad, not in our day. The redskins and the bears 'll hold it as long as
we're above ground. Yes, I'd like to settle down there."