esemblance in their physiognomy. Their faces did not resemble each
other; but there was an unmistakable similarity in the expression of the
eye; no doubt, the mark that had been made by like occupations and
experience.

Were they sportsmen? No: the sportsman's hands are whiter; there is
more jewellery on his fingers; his waistcoat is of a gayer pattern, and
altogether his dress will be more gaudy and super-elegant. Moreover,
the sportsman lacks that air of free-and-easy confidence. He dares not
assume it. He may live in the hotel, but he must be quiet and
unobtrusive. The sportsman is a bird of prey; hence, like all birds of
prey, his habits are silent and solitary. They are not of his
profession.

"Who are these gentlemen?" I inquired from a person who sat by me,
indicating to him the men of whom I have spoken.

"The prairie men."

"The prairie men!"

"Yes; the Santa Fe traders."

"Traders!" I echoed, in some surprise, not being able to connect such
"elegants" with any ideas of trade or the prairies.

"Yes," continued my informant. "That large, fine-looking man in the
middle is Bent--Bill Bent, as he is called. The gentleman on his right
is young Sublette; the other, standing on his left, is one of the
Choteaus; and that is the sober Jerry Folger."

"These, then, are the celebrated prairie merchants?"

"Precisely so."

I sat eyeing them with increased curiosity. I observed that they were
looking at me, and that I was the subject of their conversation.

Presently, one of them, a dashing-like young fellow, parted from the
group, and walked up to me.

"Were you inquiring for Monsieur Saint Vrain?" he asked.

"I was."

"Charles?"

"Yes, that is the name."

"I am--"

I pulled out my note of introduction, and banded it to the gentleman,
who glanced over its contents.

"My dear friend," said he, grasping me cordially, "very sorry I have not
been here. I came down the river this morning. How stupid of Walton
not to superscribe to Bill Bent! How long have you been up?"

"Three days. I arrived on the 10th."

"You are lost. Come, let me make you acquainted. Here, Bent! Bill!
Jerry!"

And the next moment I had shaken hands with one and all of the traders,
of which fraternity I found that my new friend, Saint Vrain, was a
member.

"First gong that?" asked one, as the loud scream of a gong came through
the gallery.

"Yes," replied Bent, consulting his watch. "Just time to `licker.