d
face wild with rage--and his great gold earrings and Mexican
sombrero--turning round the waggon at us in defiance like Marmion!

But when he realised that _we_ had fired at him, just as a pack of d---d
Apaches might have done, for fun, to stop the waggon, his expression
became one of utter bewilderment. As I came up I thought there might be
a shindy.

"Brigham," I said in Spanish, "_es la mano o el navajo_?" [Is it to be
hand, or knife?]

Brigham was proud of his Spanish; it was his elegant accomplishment, and
this was a good scene. Grasping my hand cordially, he said, "_La mano_."
Like a true frontiersman, he felt in a minute the _grandeur_ of the joke.
There was, if I may so vulgarly express myself, an _Indian-uity_ in it
which appealed to his deepest feelings. There was a silence for several
minutes, which he broke by exclaiming--

"I've driven waggons now this twelve years on the frontier, but I never
heard before of tryin' to stop the waggon by shootin' at the driver."

There was another long silent pause, when he resumed--

"I wish to God there was a gulch (ravine) between here and the fort! I'd
upset this crowd into it d---d quick!"

That evening I took leave of Brigham. I drank healths with him in
whisky, and shook hands, and said--

"I did a very foolish and reckless thing to-day, Brigham, when I shot at
you, and I am sorry for it, and I beg your pardon. Here is a dagger
which I have had for twenty-five years. I carried it all over Europe. I
have nothing better to give you; please take it. And when you stick a
Greaser (Mexican) with it, as I expect you will do some day, then think
of me."

The tears rose to his eyes, and he departed. I never met him again, but
"well I wot" he ever had kindly remembrance of me. We were to be guests
of General Custer at the fort, and I was rather shy of meeting the
castellan after firing at his driver! But he greeted me with a hearty
burst of laughter, and said--

"Mr. Leland, you have the most original way of ringing a bell when you
want to call a carriage that I ever heard of."

As for Hassard, when he witnessed my parting with Brigham, he said--

"This is all mighty fine! daggers and whisky, and all kinds of beautiful
things flying around for Brigham, but what am _I_ to have?"

"And what dost thou expect, son Hassard?" I replied.

Holding out both his hands, he replied--

"Much tobacco! much tobacco!"

This was in allusion to a story told us