o man
of these parts ever ventures across the western Sierras."

"And how came you, Monsieur Gode, to save your scalp?"

"Pourquoi, monsieur, je n'ai pas. I not haves scalp-lock: vat de
trappare Yankee call `har,' mon scalp-lock is fabrique of von barbier de
Saint Louis. Voila monsieur!"

So saying, the Canadian lifted his cap, and along with it what I had, up
to this time, looked upon as a beautiful curling head of hair, but which
now proved to be only a wig!

"Now, messieurs!" cried he, in good humour, "how les sauvages my scalp
take? Indien no have cash hold. Sacr-r-r!"

Saint Vrain and I were unable to restrain our laughter at the altered
and comical appearance of the Canadian.

"Come, Gode! the least you can do after that is to take a drink. Here,
help yourself!"

"Tres-oblige, Monsieur Saint Vrain. Je vous remercie." And the
ever-thirsty voyageur quaffed off the nectar of El Paso, like so much
fresh milk.

"Come, Haller! we must to the waggons. Business first, then pleasure;
such as we may find here among these brick stacks. But we'll have some
fun in Chihuahua."

"And you think we shall go there?"

"Certainly. They do not want the fourth part of our stuff here. We
must carry it on to the head market. To the camp! Allons!"

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE FANDANGO.

In the evening I sat in my room waiting for Saint Vrain. His voice
reached me from without--

"`Las ninas de Durango
Commigo bailandas,
Al cielo--!'

"Ha! Are you ready, my bold rider?"

"Not quite. Sit down a minute and wait."

"Hurry, then! the dancing's begun. I have just come that way. What!
that your ball-dress? Ha! ha! ha!" screamed Saint Vrain, seeing me
unpack a blue coat and a pair of dark pantaloons, in a tolerable state
of preservation.

"Why, yes," replied I, looking up; "what fault do you find? But is that
your ball-dress?"

No change had taken place in the ordinary raiment of my friend. The
fringed hunting-shirt and leggings, the belt, the bowie, and the
pistols, were all before me.

"Yes, my dandy; this is my ball-dress: it ain't anything shorter; and if
you'll take my advice, you'll wear what you have got on your back. How
will your long-tailed blue look, with a broad belt and bowie strapped
round the skirts? Ha! ha! ha!"

"But why take either belt or bowie? You are surely not going into a
ball-room with your pistols in that fashion?"

"And how else should I carry them? In my hands