"Well," said Hugh, "them men didn't calculate to fight; they calculated to keep out of sight; and then the Indians weren't right mean then. If they found a fellow travelling on the prairie they'd charge up to him and scare him about half to death, but likely they wouldn't hurt him. Maybe they'd just talk to him and let him go, or at worst they'd take his gun and his clothes, everything that he had, and turn him loose."
"But then I should think he'd starve to death."
"Well, I expect maybe a good many men did starve to death that nobody ever heard of. It's a sure thing that lots of men started out to go from one place to another, and never got to the other place."
"Did you ever have to do that, Hugh?" said Jack.
"No," said Hugh, "I never did. Fact is, I never worked regular for no fur company, I was always a free trapper, as they called it, until beaver went out, and trapping was over; then I hired out to the Government, and took parties of troops around over the country, fellows that were making maps; and some seasons I guided emigrant trains, and hunted for posts. One or two years I traded with Indians, working for Bent and St. Vrain. I liked that about as well as any work I ever did. Then presently the railroad came along, and I got work with them; and by-and-by I settled down to kind o' learn the cow-punching trade, and here I am to-day."
"My, Hugh! you must have seen an awful lot in all this time. How many years is it since you first came out?"
"It'll be forty-three years next August since I started from old Kentucky. I was sixteen years old then, and that same fall I got out to St. Joe, and I have been travelling the prairie ever since."
"Forty-three years ago!" said Jack, thoughtfully; "then you must be fifty-nine."
"Yes, I am fifty-nine years old, and I expect I look it, don't I?"