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Show 62 THE CALIFORNIA AND OREGON TRAIL. Dublin. l-Ie hunted, fished, rode steeple-chases, ran races, and talked of his former exploits. He was surrounded with the h . f 11·s 1·od and aun · the walls wer plentifully gar-trap 1es o 1 b ' nished, he told us, with moose-horns and deer-horns, bear-skins and fox-tails; for the Captain's double-barrelled rifle had seen service in Canada and Jamaica ; he had killed salmon in Nova Scotia, and trout, by his own account, in all the streams of the three kingdoms. But in an evil hour a seductive stranger came from London ; no less a person than R ; who, among other mu1titudinous wanderings, had once been upon the ·western prairies, and naturally enough, was anxious to visit them again. The Captain's imagination was inflamed by the pictures of a hunter's paradise that his guest held forth; he conceived an ambition to add to his other trophies the horn:::; of a buffalo, and the claws of a grizzly bear; so he and R struck a league to travel in company. Jack followed his brother, as a matter of course. Two weeks on board of tho Atlantic steamer brought them to Boston; in two weeks more of har travelling they reached St. Louis, from which a ride of six days carried tl• em to tbe frontier; and here wo found them, in the full tide of' preparation for their journey. Vve h[td been throughout on terms of intimacy with the Captain, hut R , the motive-power of our companions' branch of the expedition, was scarcely known to us. His voice, incl ed, miaht be heard incessantly; hut at camp he rcrnaincd chi fly within the tent, and on the road he either rod by hirnsclf, or else remained in close conversation with his friend Wright, the mnleteer. As the Captnin left the tent that morninO', I ol served R . standi·n o- by the fi1·e , an d h avm· g not h.1 0 ~ ccl so to cl o, I determmecl to asc .rtain ' l'f poss1'b l e, what mann r of man he THE ' BIG BLUE.' 63 was. He had a book under his arm, but just at present he was engrossed in actively superintending the operations of Sorel, the hunter, who was cooking some· corn-bread over the coals for breakfast. R was a well-formed and rather good-looking man, some thirty years old; considerably younger than the Captain. He wore a beard and moustache of the oakum complexion, and his attire was altogether more elegant than one ordinarily sees on the prairie. He ·wore his cap on one side of his head; his checked shirt, open in front, was in very neat order, considering the circumstances, and his blue pantaloons, of the John Bull cut, might once have figured in Bond-street. ' Turn over that cake, man ! turn it over quick ! Don't you see it burning ?' 'It ain't half done,' growled Sorel, in the amiable tone of a whipped bull-dog. ' It is. Turn it over, I tell you !' Sorel, a strong, sullen-looking Canadian, who, from having spent his life among the wildest and most remote of the Indian tribes, had itnbibed much of their dark vindictive spirit, looked ferociously up, as if he longed to leap upon his bourgeois and throttle him; but he obeyed the order, coming from so experienced an artist. 'It was a good idea of yours,' said I, seating myself on the tongue of the wagon, 'to bring Indian meal with you.' 'Yes' yes, ' sa1· d R , ' it ' s good bread for the prairie-good bread for the prairie. I tell you that's burning again.' I-Iere he stooped down, and unsheathing the silver-mounted hu. n tin g-k n1· fce I•n h1•s belt, began to perform the part of cook himself '· at th e same t1· me requesti. ng me to hold for a moment the book under his arm, which interfered with the exercise of |
