in and out of the shops and houses.

As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remarkable looking person
coming up the street. He had a ruddy face, garnished with the stumps of
a bristly red beard and mustache; on one side of his head was a round
cap with a knob at the top, such as Scottish laborers sometimes wear;
his coat was of a nondescript form, and made of a gray Scotch plaid,
with the fringes hanging all about it; he wore pantaloons of coarse
homespun, and hob-nailed shoes; and to complete his equipment, a little
black pipe was stuck in one corner of his mouth. In this curious attire,
I recognized Captain C. of the British army, who, with his brother, and
Mr. R., an English gentleman, was bound on a hunting expedition across
the continent. I had seen the captain and his companions at St. Louis.
They had now been for some time at Westport, making preparations for
their departure, and waiting for a re-enforcement, since they were too
few in number to attempt it alone. They might, it is true, have joined
some of the parties of emigrants who were on the point of setting out
for Oregon and California; but they professed great disinclination to
have any connection with the "Kentucky fellows."

The captain now urged it upon us, that we should join forces and proceed
to the mountains in company. Feeling no greater partiality for the
society of the emigrants than they did, we thought the arrangement an
advantageous one, and consented to it. Our future fellow-travelers had
installed themselves in a little log-house, where we found them all
surrounded by saddles, harness, guns, pistols, telescopes, knives, and
in short their complete appointments for the prairie. R., who professed
a taste for natural history, sat at a table stuffing a woodpecker; the
brother of the captain, who was an Irishman, was splicing a trail-rope
on the floor, as he had been an amateur sailor. The captain pointed
out, with much complacency, the different articles of their outfit. "You
see," said he, "that we are all old travelers. I am convinced that no
party ever went upon the prairie better provided." The hunter whom they
had employed, a surly looking Canadian, named Sorel, and their muleteer,
an American from St. Louis, were lounging about the building. In a
little log stable close at hand were their horses and mules, selected by
the captain, who was an excellent judge.

The alliance entered into, we left them to complete their arrangements,