be yer breeches, fur here on the waistband be
pinned a bit of paper, and on it be written, 'Fur Wild Bill.' And here
be a vest to match; and here be a jacket; and here be two pairs of
socks in the pocket of the jacket; and here be two woolen shirts, one
packed away in each sleeve. And here!" shouted the old man, as he
turned up the lapel of the coat, "Wild Bill, look here! Here be a
five-dollar note!" and the old man swung one of the socks over his
head, and shouted, "Hurrah for Wild Bill!" And the two hounds,
catching the enthusiasm of their master, lifted their muzzles into the
air, and bayed deep and long, till the cabin fairly shook with the
joyful uproar of man and dogs.

It is doubtful if any gift ever took the recipient more by surprise
than this bestowed upon Wild Bill. It is true that, judged by the law
of strict deserts, the poor fellow had not deserved much of the world,
and certainly the world had not forgotten to be strictly just in his
case, for it had not given him much. It is a question if he had ever
received a gift before in all his life, certainly not one of any
considerable value. His reception of this generous and thoughtful
provision for his wants was characteristic both of his training and
his nature.

The Old Trapper, as he ended his cheering, flung the pantaloons, the
vest, the jacket, the socks, the shirts, and the money into his lap.

For a moment the poor fellow sat looking at the warm and costly
garments that he held in his hands, silent in an astonishment too
profound for speech, and then, recovering the use of his organs, he
gasped forth:--

"I swear!" and then broke down, and sobbed like a child.

The Trapper, kneeling beside the box, looked at the poor fellow with a
face radiant with happiness, while his mouth was stretched with
laughter, utterly unconscious that tears were brimming his own eyes.

"Old Trapper," said Wild Bill, rising to his feet, and holding the
garments forth in his hands, "this is the first present I ever
received in my life. I have been kicked and cussed, sneered at and
taunted, and I deserved it all. But no man ever gave me a lift, or
showed he cared a cent whether I starved or froze, lived or died. You
know, John Norton, what a fool I've been, and what has ruined me, and
that when sober I'm more of a man than many who hoot me. And here I
swear, old man, that while a button is on this jacket, or two threads
of these breeches hold together, I'll never touch a