r a
few things. Will helped him to mount, and out of pure kindness tied him
on; then he straddled his own pony, and towed the dismal outfit along
with him.

It was the first time that he had been behind on his run, but by way of
excuse he offered to Mr. Chrisman a broken-headed and dejected gentleman
tied to a horse's back; and Chrisman, with a grin, locked the excuse up
for future reference.

A few days after this episode Will received a letter from Julia, telling
him that mother was ill, and asking him to come home. He at once sought
out Mr. Chrisman, and giving his reason, asked to be relieved.

"I'm sorry your mother is sick," was the answer, "but I'm glad something
has occurred to make you quit this life. It's wearing you out, Billy,
and you're too gritty to give it up without a good reason."

Will reached home to find mother slightly improved. For three weeks was
he content to remain idly at home; then (it was November of 1860) his
unquiet spirit bore him away on another trapping expedition, this time
with a young friend named David Phillips.

They bought an ox-team and wagon to transport the traps, camp outfit,
and provisions, and took along a large supply of ammunition, besides
extra rifles. Their destination was the Republican River. It coursed
more than a hundred miles from Leavenworth, but the country about it was
reputed rich in beaver. Will acted as scout on the journey, going ahead
to pick out trails, locate camping grounds, and look out for breakers.
The information concerning the beaver proved correct; the game was
indeed so plentiful that they concluded to pitch a permanent camp and
see the winter out.

They chose a hollow in a sidehill, and enlarged it to the dimensions of
a decent-sized room. A floor of logs was put in, and a chimney fashioned
of stones, the open lower part doing double duty as cook-stove and
heater; the bed was spread in the rear, and the wagon sheltered the
entrance. A corral of poles was built for the oxen, and one corner of
it protected by boughs. Altogether, they accounted their winter quarters
thoroughly satisfactory and agreeable.

The boys had seen no Indians on their trip out, and were not concerned
in that quarter, though they were too good plainsmen to relax their
vigilance. There were other foes, as they discovered the first night in
their new quarters. They were aroused by a commotion in the corral where
the oxen were confined, and hurrying out with their rifles,