When Finn returned to the Mississippi, his narrative was so much blended with strange and marvellous stories that it was not credited; but when he showed and produced his stock of gold dust in bladders, and some precious stones, fifty different proposals were made to him to guide a band of greedy adventurers to the new western Eldorado.  Finn, like Boone, could not bear the society of his own countrymen; he dreaded to hear the noise of their axes felling the beautiful trees; he feared still more to introduce them, like so many hungry wolves, among the good people who knew so well the sacred rites of hospitality.

After a short residence with the old backwoodsman, Finn returned to Virginia, just in time to close the eyes of the kind old Quaker.  He found that his old friend had expected his return, for he had sold all his property, and deposited the amount in the hands of a safe banker, to be kept for Finn’s benefit.  The young wanderer was amazed; he had now ten thousand dollars, but what could he do with so much money?  He thought of a home, of love and happiness, of the daughter of old Boone, and he started off to present her with his newly acquired wealth.  Finn entered Boone’s cottage, with his bags and pocket-books in each hand, and casting his burden into a corner, he entered at once upon the matter.

“Why, I say, old man, I am sure I love the gal.”

“She Is a comely and kind girl,” said the father.

“I wish she could love me.”

“She does.”

“Does she? well, I tell you what, Boone, give her to me, I’ll try to make her happy.”

“I will, but not yet,” said the venerable patriarch.  “Why, you are both of you mere children; she can’t get a house, and how could you support her?”

Finn jumped up with pride and glee.  “Look,” said he, while he scattered on the floor his bank-notes, his gold, and silver, “that will support her bravely; tell me, old father, that will keep her snug, won’t it?”

The pioneer nodded his head.  “Finn,” answered he, “you are a good young man, and I like you; you think like me; you love Polly, and Polly loves you; mind, you shall have her when you are both old enough; but remember, my son, neither your pieces of money nor your rags of paper will ever keep a daughter of mine.  No, no! you shall have Polly, but you must first know how to use the rifle and the axe.”

A short time after this interview, Finn started upon another trip to unknown lands, leaving old Boone to make the most he could of his money.  Now, the old pioneer, although a bold hunter, and an intrepid warrior, was a mere child in matters of interest, and in less than two months he had lost the whole deposit, the only “gentleman” he ever trusted having suddenly disappeared with the funds.  In the meanwhile Finn had gone down the Mississippi, to the thirty-second degree of north latitude, when, entering the western swamps, where no white man had ever penetrated, he forced his way to the Red River,