r to me, I'll try to
make her happy."

"I will but not yet," said the venerable patriarch. "Why, you are both
of you mere children; she can't get a house, and how could you support
her?"

Finn jumped up with pride and glee. "Look," said he, while he scattered
on the floor his bank-notes, his gold, and silver, "that will support
her bravely; tell me, old father, that will keep her snug, won't it?"

The pioneer nodded his head. "Finn," answered he, "you are a good young
man, and I like you; you think like me; you love Polly, and Polly loves
you mind, you shall have her, when you are both old enough; but
remember, my son, neither your pieces of money nor your rags of paper
will ever keep a daughter of mine. No, no! you shall have Polly, but
you must first know how to use the rifle and the axe."

A short time after this interview, Finn started upon another trip to
unknown lands, leaving old Boone to make the most he could of his money.
Now, the old pioneer, although a bold hunter and an intrepid warrior,
was a mere child in matters of interest, and in less than two months he
had lost the whole deposit, the only "gentleman" he ever trusted having
suddenly disappeared with the funds. In the meanwhile Finn had gone
down the Mississippi, to the thirty-second degree of north latitude,
when, entering the western swamps, where no white man had ever
penetrated, he forced his way to the Red River, which he reached a
little above the old French establishment of Nachitoches. Beyond this
point, inland navigation had never been attempted, and Finn, procuring a
light dug-out, started alone, with his arms and his blanket, upon his
voyage of discovery. During four months he struggled daily against the
rapid stream, till he at last reached, in spite of rafts and dangerous
eddies, its source at the Rocky Mountains. On his return, a singular
and terrible adventure befell him; he was dragging his canoe over a
raft, exactly opposite to where now stands his plantation, when,
happening to hurt his foot, he lost hold of his canoe. It was on the
very edge of the raft, near a ruffled eddy; the frail bark was swamped
in a moment, and with it Finn lost his rifle, all his arms, and his
blanket. [See Note 1.]

Now that cotton grown on the Red River has been acknowledged to be the
best in the States, speculators have settled upon both sides of it as
far as two hundred miles above Lost Prairie; but at the time that Finn
made his excursion,