The other stranger was a quieter character. He, too, smiled as he witnessed the exultation of his younger companion (whose horse, by the way, was scampering about the plain), and spoke kindly to the mountaineers, whose appearance was clear evidence of the sufferings they had endured. The snakes by this time were cooked, and the trappers gave their new acquaintances the never-failing invitation to "sit and eat." When the latter, however, understood what the viands were, their looks expressed the horror and disgust they felt. "Good God!" exclaimed the elder, "you surely cannot eat such disgusting food?" "This nigger doesn't savy what disgustin' is," gruffly answered Killbuck; "but them as carries empty paunch three days an' more, is glad to get snake meat, I'm thinkin'." "What! you've no ammunition, then?" "_Well_, we haven't." "Wait till the wagons come up, and throw away that abominable stuff, and you shall have something better, I promise," said the elder of the strangers. "Yes," continued the younger; "some hot preserved soup, hotch-potch, and a glass of porter, will do you good." The trappers looked at the speaker, who was talking Greek (to them). They thought the bourgeois were making fun, and did not half like it, so answered simply, "Wagh! h----'s full of hosh-posh and porter." Two large wagons presently came up, escorted by some eight or ten stout Missourians. Sublette was amongst the number, well known as a mountain trader, and under whose guidance the present party, which formed a pleasure expedition at the expense of a Scotch sportsman, was leisurely making its way across the mountains to the Columbia. As several mountaineers were in company, Killbuck and La Bonté recognized more than one friend, and the former and Sublette were old campaneros. As soon as the animals were unhitched, and camp formed on the banks of the creek, a black cook set about preparing a meal. Our two trapping friends looked on with astonishment as the sable functionary drew from the wagon the different articles he required to furnish forth a feed. Hams, tongues, tins of preserved meats, bottles of pickles, of porter, brandy, coffee, sugar, flour, were tumbled promiscuously on the prairie; whilst pots and pans, knives, forks, spoons, plates, &c. &c., displayed their unfamiliar faces to the mountaineers. "Hosh-posh and porter" did not now appear such Utopian articles as they had first imagined; but no one but those who have lived for years on simple meat and water, can understand the relish with which they accepted the invitation of the Cap'n (as they called the Scotchman) to "take a horn of liquor." Killbuck and La Bonté sat in the same position as when we first surprised them asleep under the shadow of Independence Rock, regarding the profuse display of comestibles with scarce-believing eyes, and childishly helpless from the novelty of the scene. Each took the proffered half-pint cup, filled to