"Right," said he, "right enough, but it is not all.

I know of a boat on the other side of the mountain, and the Ogden river will carry us not far from the Buona Ventura." I started.

"A mistake," I exclaimed, "dear friend, a sad mistake; we are more than thirty miles from the river." "From the main river, yes," answered he, shaking my hand, "but many an otter have I killed in a pretty lake two miles from here, at the southern side of this hill.

There I have a boat well concealed, as I hope; and it is a place where we may defy all the Arrapahoes, and the Crows to back them.

From that lake to the river it is but thirty miles' paddling in a smooth canal, made either by nature or by a former race of men." I need not say how cheerfully we walked these two miles, in spite of the weight of our saddles, rifles, and accoutrements.