life. I wonder what his right name is?"

"Nobody knows that, lad. You know, as well as I do, that he wos called
Redhand by the Injuns in consekence o' the lot o' grislies he's killed
in his day; but nobody never could git at his real name. P'r'aps it's
not worth gittin' at. Now, them four 'll be startin' in a week or two
for the mountains, an' wot's to hinder us a-jinin' of them?"

To his own question Bounce, after a pause, replied with deliberate
emphasis, "Nothin' wotsomdiver;" and his young companion heartily echoed
the sentiment.

Exactly thirty-six hours after the satisfactory formation of the above
resolution, March Marston galloped furiously towards the door of his
mother's cottage, reined up, leaped to the ground, seized the
buffalo-hump that hung at his saddle-bow, and entered with a good deal
of that impetuosity that had gone far to procure for him the title of
madman. Flinging the bloody mass of meat on the floor he sat down on a
chair, and said--

"There, mother!"

"Well, you _are_ a clever fellow," said Mrs Marston, drying her hands
(for she had been washing dishes), and giving her son a hearty kiss on
the forehead.

"Clever or not clever, mother, I'm off to the Rocky Mountains in two
days."

Mrs Marston was neither dismayed nor surprised. She was used to that
sort of thing, and didn't mind it.

"What to do there, my boy?"

"To see the Wild Man o' the West."

"The what?"

"The Wild Man o' the West, mother."

It is needless to try our reader's patience with the long conversation
that followed. March had resolved to preach a discourse with the "Wild
Man o' the West" for his text, and he preached so eloquently that his
mother (who was by no means a timid woman) at length not only agreed to
let him go, but commended him for his resolution. The only restraint
she laid upon her son had reference to his behaviour towards the Wild
Man, if he should happen to meet with him.

"You may look at him, March (Mrs Marston spoke of him as if he were a
caged wild beast!) and you may speak to him, but you _must not_ fight
with him, except in self-defence. If he lets _you_ alone, you must let
_him_ alone. Promise me that, boy."

"I promise, mother."

Not long after this promise was made, a light bark canoe was launched
upon the river, and into it stepped our hero, with his friend Bounce,
and Big Waller, Black Gibault, Hawkswing, and Redhand, the trappers. A
cheer rang from the end of the little