ed in a grove of cottonwoods, by the smoke of the little
camp-fire as it curled in light wreaths above the trees.

Tobin knew that at the time there was but one of Espinosa's followers
with him, as he had watched them both for some days, waiting for an
opportunity to get the drop on them. To capture the pair of outlaws
alive never entered his thoughts; he was as cautious as brave, and to
get them dead was much safer and easier; so he crept up to the grove on
his belly, Indian fashion, and lying behind the cover of a friendly log,
waited until the noted desperado stood up, when he pulled the trigger
of his never-erring rifle, and Espinosa fell dead. A second shot
quickly disposed of his companion, and the old trapper's mission was
accomplished.

To be able to claim the reward offered by the authorities, Tom had to
prove, beyond the possibility of doubt, that those whom he had killed
were the dreaded bandit and one of his gang. He thought it best to cut
off their heads, which he deliberately did, and packing them on his mule
in a gunny-sack, he brought them into old Fort Massachusetts, afterward
Fort Garland, where they were speedily recognized; but whether Tom ever
received the reward, I have my doubts, as he never claimed that he did.
Tobin died only a short time ago, gray, grizzled, and venerable, his
memory respected by all who had ever met him.

James Hobbs, among all the men of whom I have presented a hurried
sketch, had perhaps a more varied experience than any of his colleagues.
During his long life on the frontier, he was in turn a prisoner among
the savages, and held for years by them; an excellent soldier in the war
with Mexico; an efficient officer in the revolt against Maximilian, when
the attempt of Napoleon to establish an empire on this continent, with
that unfortunate prince at its head, was defeated; an Indian fighter; a
miner; a trapper; a trader, and a hunter.

Hobbs was born in the Shawnee nation, on the Big Blue, about
twenty-three miles from Independence, Missouri. His early childhood was
entrusted to one of his father's slaves. Reared on the eastern limit of
the border, he very soon became familiar with the use of the rifle and
shot-gun; in fact, he was the principal provider of all the meat which
the family consumed.

In 1835, when only sixteen, he joined a fur-trading expedition under
Charles Bent, destined for the fort on the Arkansas River built by him
and his brothers.

They arrived at