r than he was; an' then, again, he would settle down into one of
his gloomy spells, an' I couldn't get a word out of him. He would sit
by the camp-fire, an' first fall to musing; then he would cover his
face with his hands, an' I could see the big, scalding tears trickle
through his fingers, an' his big frame would quiver and shake like a
tree in a gale of wind; then he would pull out his long, heavy
huntin'-knife, an' I could see that he had several notches cut in the
handle. He would count these over an' over again; an' I could see a
dark scowl settle on his face, that would have made me tremble if I
had not known that I was his only sworn friend, an' he would mutter,

"'Only seven! only seven! There ought to be eight. There is one left.
He must not escape me. No, no; he must die!'

"An' then he would sheath his knife, an' roll himself up in his
blanket, an' cry himself to sleep like a child.

"I had been with ole Bill a'most ten years--ever since I was a
boy--but he had never told me the cause of his trouble. I didn't dare
to ask him, for the ole man had curious ways sometimes, an' I knowed
he wouldn't think it kind of me to go pryin' into his affairs, an' I
knowed, too, that some day he would tell me all about it.

"One night--we had been followin' up a bar all day--we camped on the
side of a high mountain. It was very cold. The wind howled through the
branches of the trees above our heads, makin' us pull our blankets
closer about us an' draw as nigh to the fire as possible.

"Ole Bill sat, as usual, leanin' his head on his hands, an' lookin'
steadily into the fire. Neither of us had spoken for more than an
hour. At len'th the ole man raised his head, an' broke the silence by
sayin',

"'Dick, you have allers been a good friend to me, an' have stuck by
me like a brother, through thick an' thin, an', I s'pose, you think it
is mighty unkind in me to keep any thing from you; an' so it is. An'
now I'll tell you all.'

"He paused a moment, an', wipin' the perspiration from his forehead
with his coat-sleeve, continued, a'most in a whisper,

"'Dick, I was not allers as you see me now--all alone in the world.
Once I was the happiest boy west of the mountains. My father was a
trader, livin' on the Colorado River, I had a kind mother, two as
handsome sisters as the sun ever shone on, an' my brother was one of
the best trappers, for a boy, I ever see. He was a good deal younger
nor I was, but he was the sharer of all m