, suggesting the idea that the captain had
used it constantly as a night-cap, which, indeed, is the fact. Nothing
but a flannel shirt, of the brightest possible scarlet, clothes the
upper portion of his burly frame, while brown corduroys adorn the lower.
Boots of the most ponderous dimensions engulf, not only his feet, but
his entire legs, leaving only a small part of the corduroys visible. On
his heels, or, rather, just above his heels, are strapped a pair of
enormous Mexican spurs, with the frightful prongs of which he so
lacerated the sides of his unfortunate mule, during the first part of
the journey, as to drive that animal frantic, and cause it to throw him
off at least six times a day. Dire necessity has now, however, taught
the captain that most difficult and rarely-accomplished feat of
horsemanship, to ride with the toes well in, and the heels well out.

Round Captain Bunting's waist is a belt, which is of itself quite a
study. It is made of tough cow-hide, full two and a half inches broad,
and is fastened by a brass buckle that would cause the mouth of a
robber-chief to water. Attached to it in various ways and places are
the following articles:--A bowie-knife of the largest size--not far
short of a small cutlass; a pair of revolving pistols, also large, and
having six barrels each; a stout leathern purse; and a leathern bag of
larger dimensions for miscellaneous articles. As the captain has given
up shaving for many weeks past, little of his face is visible, except
the nose, eyes, and forehead. All besides is a rugged mass of red hair,
which rough travel has rendered an indescribable and irreclaimable
waste. But the captain cares not: as long as he can clear a passage
through the brushwood to his mouth, he says, his mind is easy.

Such is Captain Bunting, and such, with but trifling modifications, is
every member of his party. On Ned Sinton and his almost equally
stalwart and handsome friend, Tom Collins, the picturesque costume of
the miner sits well; and it gives a truly wild, dashing look to the
whole party, as they stand beneath the shade of that lovely oak,
preparing to refresh themselves with biscuit and jerked beef, and pipes
of esteemed tobacco.

Besides those we have mentioned, Larry O'Neil is there,--busy carrying
water in a bucket to the horses, and as proud of his Mexican spurs as if
they were the golden spurs of the days of chivalry. Bill Jones is
there, with a blue instead of a red-f