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Show 60 THE CALIFORNIA AND OREGON TRAIL. be recorded,, to set a man-trap before your not necessary to . . , • • cr to catch your v1s1tors. door every mol nmb d P on f-Ienry Chatillon's saddle. We Then he sat own u . . f B ffi 1 . bo to Jack who was look1ng about tossed a piece o u a o 1 o v • ' . t He spread 1t on tho rn ound, and took in some embarrassmen . . . o ' . his seat, with a stolid countenance, at }us brother s sJde. 'Exhilaratin cr weather, Captain.' o . ' I 1 ' Oh, delightful, delightful !' replied the Cn ptau1 ; cnew 1· t wou ld be so ,. so mt1ch for startinnb· ye terday at noon ! I knew how it would turn out; and I said so at the tim . ' 'You said just the contrary to us. We were in no hurry, and only moved because you insisted on it.' 'Gentlemen,' said the Captain, taking his pipe from hi~ mouth with an air of e:xtrrme rrravity, 'it was no plan of mine. There's a man among us who is determined to have every thing his own way. You may express your opinion; but don't expect him to listen. You may be as reasonable as you like; oh, it all goes for nothing! That man is resolved to rule the roast, and he'll set his face against any plan that he didn't think of himself.' The Captain puffed for awhile at his pipe, as if meditating upon his grievances ; then he began again. 'For twenty years I have been in the British army ; and in all that time I never had ha1f so much dissension, and quarrelling, and nonsense, as since I have been on thi cursed prai~ rie. He's the most uncomfortable man I ev r met.' 'Y cs ;' said Jack, ' and don't you know, Dill, how he drank up all the coffee last night, and put the rest by for himself till ~he morning ! ' 'He pretends to know every thing,' resumed the Captain; THE c BIG BLUE.' 61 'nobody must give orders but he! It's, oh ! we must do this ; and, oh ! we must do th at ; and the tent must be pitched here, . and the horses must be picketed there ; for nobody knows as well as he docs.' We were a little surprised at this disclosure of domestic ·dissensions among our allies, for though we knew of tbeir existence, we were not a ware of their extent. The per ·ecutcd Captain seeming wholly at a loss as to the course of conduct thnt h~ should pursue, we recon1mended him to adopt prompt and energetic measures; but all his military experience had failed to teach him the indispensable lesson, to be 'hard ' when the emergency requires it. 'For twenty years,' he repeated, ' I have been in the British army, and in that time I have been intimately acquaint d with some two hundred officers, young and old, and I never yet quarrelled with any man. Oh, "any thing for a quiet life !" that's my maxim.' We intimated that the prairie was hardly the place to enjoy a quiet life, but that, in the present circumstancesJ the best thing he could do toward securing his 'Nished-for tr ~:tnquillity, was immediately to put a period to the nuisance that di:-:;turhcd it. But again the Captain's easy good-nature n~coiled from tho task. The somewhat vigorous measur -s necessary to gain the desired result were utterly repugnant to him; he preferred to pocket his grievances, still retaining the privilege of g rumbling about them. 'Oh, any thing for a quiet life !' he said again, circling back to his favorite maxim. But to glance at the previous history of our transatlantic confederates. The C:.:ptnin had sold his commission, and was living in bachelor ease and dignity in his paternal halls, near |