To hate an Indian, or an employee of the Hudson Bay Company. It was in the days when the rivalry between the American Fur Company and the Hudson Bay was at its height, and the rancor between them equaled that of Whig and Tory during the Revolution. Each claimed the country, and many a bleaching skeleton on the western streams remains to this day, attesting the fact that the men fought for the right of possession to the last. The men in the pass were types of different nationalities. One, a tall, supple, wiry old fellow, dressed in a greasy buckskin hunting-shirt and leggings, with moccasins of moose-hide, showed himself to be a lifelong rover of the hills and plains. He was piling brush on the fire, and smoking placidly, puffing the smoke from his nose in clouds. His face was a study, covered though it was by a beard of nearly seven months’ growth. It showed the character of the man. Brave to a fault, an unrelenting foe, a steadfast friend--one on whom great reliance could be placed in time of need. His rifle, carefully covered with a buckskin sheath, was propped against a rock near at hand. A huge knife hung in his belt, by the side of a shot-pouch and powder-flask. The man on his right hand was a Frenchman--a keen-eyed, vivacious fellow, dressed very much like his companion, and armed, in addition to the knife and rifle, with a pair of handsome pistols. His name was Jules Damand, and he had been a voyageur, trained to the business at Saint Ann’s, on the St. Lawrence. The third was a Dutchman! A simple glance at his broad, stolid face told his nationality. He was a stout fellow, of tremendous girth, with a smiling blue eye, an expressionless face while in repose, and a foot that looked much like a young trunk. He was smoking placidly, and suffering his companions to attend to the fire, and cook the food hanging over it. The last duty was the Frenchman’s, who, like nearly all the men of his nation, had a theory in regard to cookery which he was always ready to explain by example. “Look here, Jan,” said the first-named trapper, “why don’t ye lend a hand at takin’ care of the fire?” “So help me, as I never know I vas vanted to help you mit de fire,” said Jan. “I vas sit here, mit mine shmoke-pipe, unt I vas dinking auver the times ven I vas in Yarmany. Yaw; dat is vat I dinks.” “I s’pose it’s considerable of a kentry,” said the old trapper. “Consider’ble mit a coonthry! Mein Cott! Dere is no such coonthry mit all the earth. Vat! Ish dere any vere you kin find such vine ash ve have dere? Now I dells you. Ven you coes to St. Louis, you vas co to Yawcob Post’s saloon av you vants goot Rhine vine. Dere ish goot many blaces mit St. Louis vere dey says dey keeps goot Rhine vine. Put I dells you dat ish no more ash von lie! Dere ish no more ash your blaces in dat town vere you can get goot vine, unt mein frent Yawcob’s ish von, I dells you drue.”