“Yes. If we stay this side of the Mississippi, I shall never get a chance to pay off that little debt I contracted to you. Do you remember--the first time I ever saw you?” Kenton laughed heartily and slapped his companion on the back, as he said: “You know better now than to aim at the crest-feathers of a redskin and then throw your tomahawk at him, eh, young ’un?” It was a beautiful country through which the travellers passed in their two days’ journey. On every hand stretched timbered prairie, over which roamed herds of buffalo, deer, and other game. Every few miles brought them to a little settlement surrounded by orchards and standing crops. Many of the inhabitants were Americans. In fact, three-fifths of the population of Upper Louisiana were immigrants from the States at the time of annexation. On the evening of the second day, the friends learned that they were within a few miles of their destination. They determined to defer their arrival until the next morning, and spent the interval before bedtime in securing the two fat bucks that they had proposed to take to their old leader as a humble testimony of respect. Early the next morning Kenton and Hardy, laboring under their heavy burdens, approached a cabin, to which they had been directed, on the outskirts of a settlement in St. Charles County, Missouri. It was a small, two-roomed, structure of hewn logs and shingle roof. Well-fenced fields and a large orchard lay behind the building. On a tree-stump near the cabin sat an old man, with snow-white hair falling over his shoulders. He was repairing the lock of a gun, whilst a hound crouched at his feet and looked up in eager expectation, hoping that a hunt was in prospect. The travellers hurried forward as well as they could with their loads, shouting greetings as they came: “Hallo, Colonel!” “Hallo, dad!” The old man rose, displaying surprising activity and erectness of carriage. He shaded his eyes with his hand and in a moment recognized his visitors. “Hardy! Si!” he cried, in accents of delight. “Bless your dear hearts! The sight of you is surely good for old eyes! It looks like old times to see you two coming up to the cabin so.” Twelve years had passed since these former followers of Boone had seen him. Of course, they had a great deal to tell one another. The old pioneer’s life had been comparatively uneventful in these later years, but his two disciples insisted on hearing all about it. At sight of the humble cabin they had feared that the old man might be in straitened circumstances. They were relieved to learn that he was very comfortably situated, and lived in his little log hut because he felt more at home in it than in a spacious dwelling. At times, he told them, he would spend a few weeks in the mansion of his son Nathan, a few miles distant, or in the roomy frame house of his son-in-law Callaway, but he was always glad to get back to his own little two-roomed cabin.