me.  I leaned my rifle against a tree, walked over to where my bed was lying, and, happening to rummage in it for something, I found the whisky flask was empty.  I turned on him at once and accused him of having drunk it, to which he merely responded by asking what I was going to do about it.  There did not seem much to do, so I said that we would part company—­we were only four or five days from a settlement—­and I would go in alone, taking one of the horses.  He responded by cocking his rifle and saying that I could go alone and be damned to me, but I could not take any horse.  I answered “all right,” that if I could not I could not, and began to move around to get some flour and salt pork.  He was misled by my quietness and by the fact that I had not in any way resented either his actions or his language during the days we had been together, and did not watch me as closely as he ought to have done.  He was sitting with the cocked rifle across his knees, the muzzle to the left.  My rifle was leaning against a tree near the cooking things to his right.  Managing to get near it, I whipped it up and threw the bead on him, calling, “Hands up!” He of course put up his hands, and then said, “Oh, come, I was only joking”; to which I answered, “Well, I am not.  Now straighten your legs and let your rifle go to the ground.”  He remonstrated, saying the rifle would go off, and I told him to let it go off.  However, he straightened his legs in such fashion that it came to the ground without a jar.  I then made him move back, and picked up the rifle.  By this time he was quite sober, and really did not seem angry, looking at me quizzically.  He told me that if I would give him back his rifle, he would call it quits and we could go on together.  I did not think it best to trust him, so I told him that our hunt was pretty well through, anyway, and that I would go home.  There was a blasted pine on the trail, in plain view of the camp, about a mile off, and I told him that I would leave his rifle at that blasted pine if I could see him in camp, but that he must not come after me, for if he did I should assume that it was with hostile intent and would shoot.  He said he had no intention of coming after me; and as he was very much crippled with rheumatism, I did not believe he would do so.

Accordingly I took the little mare, with nothing but some flour, bacon, and tea, and my bed-roll, and started off.  At the blasted pine I looked round, and as I could see him in camp, I left his rifle there.  I then traveled till dark, and that night, for the only time in my experience, I used in camping a trick of the old-time trappers in the Indian days.  I did not believe I would be followed, but still it was not possible to be sure, so, after getting supper, while my pony fed round, I left the fire burning, repacked the mare and pushed ahead until it literally became so dark that I could not see.  Then I picketed the mare, slept where I was without a fire until the