reby giving him a larger sum to carry to his family.

As it would be several days before the train started, Buffalo Billy
determined to enjoy a bear-hunt, and mounting his favorite horse, the
roan he had captured from the Indian chief, he set out for the
foot-hills of Laramie Peak.

After a day of pleasure, in which he had shot considerable game, such as
deer, antelope and sage hens, but not a bear, he camped for the night in
a pretty nook upon one of the mountain streams.

Hardly had he fastened his roan and begun to build a fire, by which to
cook his supper, when he was startled by the neigh of a horse up in the
mountains.

Instantly he sprung to his horse, and, by his hand over his nostrils,
prevented him from giving an answering whinny, while he stood in silence
listening, for he knew that he might rather expect to see a foe there
than a friend.

As the neigh was once more repeated, Buffalo Billy resaddled his horse,
hitched him so that he could be easily unfastened, and, with his rifle
started cautiously on foot up the stream.

He had not gone far when in a little glen he beheld nearly half a
hundred horses grazing and lariated out.

This was a surprise to him, and he was most cautious indeed, for he was
convinced that they belonged to some prowling band of Indians.

Presently, up the mountain further, he caught sight of a sudden light,
and his keen eye detected that a man's form had momentarily appeared and
then all was darkness once more.

On he went in the direction of the light, going as noiselessly as a
panther creeping upon its prey, until presently he dimly discovered the
outline of a small cabin, built back against the precipitous side of an
overhanging hill.

Hearing voices, and recognizing that they were white men, he stepped
boldly forward and knocked at the door.

Instantly there followed a dead silence within, and again he knocked.

"Who is there?" asked a gruff voice.

"A pard."

"Come in, pard."

Billy obeyed.

But instantly he regretted it, for his eyes fell upon a dozen
villainous-looking fellows, several of whom he recognized as having seen
loafing at the Overland stations, and who were considered all that was
bad.

"Who are you?" asked one who appeared to be the leader.

"I am Bill Cody, a stage driver on the Overland, and I came up here on a
bear-hunt."

"You're a healthy looking stage driver, you are, when you are nothing
more than a boy."

"Yes, Bob, he tells ther t