“I told you the truth, Myrtle, when I said I was your cousin. That paper is a copy of our grandfather’s will which you will find in the hands of Justin Lawrence, attorney, at St. Louis. When you read the will you will understand why I wished to make you my wife. Never fear for me; I’ll die as I have lived—game to the last. Here’s luck to the Hudson Bay!” He shook his hand above his head and with the effort his life went out. The will when read was found to be in favor of the heirs of Edward Forrester, or, failing that, all was left to a benevolent institution at St. Louis. To Edward Forrester, Jr., the only child of his youngest son, the testator left one dollar “on account of his dissolute and unmanly conduct.” The secret of his persistent effort to make Myrtle his wife was explained. There is little more to tell. They buried the unhappy man in the little valley next day, and just as Old Pegs had laid the last sod upon him Dave Farrell, followed by a portion of his men, rode into the place. The yell which the trappers gave as they saw Old Pegs and Myrtle alive made the mountains ring again, and Myrtle with a glad cry threw herself into the arms of her “teacher,” brave Dave Farrell, the Beaver Captain. A few days later the party set out for the fort, Old Pegs taking charge of the papers left in his hands by Myrtle’s father by means of which her identity was easily established, and she took possession by the will of a property valued at one hundred thousand dollars. But, prosperity did not spoil her; she still remained the same, and loved her guardian and her trapper lover as of yore. Six months after their return there was a quiet wedding and Dave Farrell with his beautiful wife started for the East. Old Pegs left them in St. Louis, resisting all entreaties to spend his life with the woman who had been a daughter—more than a daughter to him. He could not leave the mountain yet, but promised that when old age comes on him Myrtle shall smooth his pathway to the grave. So promising he turned his face to the west and was gone. Whirlwind was killed in an attack upon a trapping camp, some years since. The men who had followed Edward Forrester in his last expedition scattered, and the time has nearly passed when the two great companies strive for the possession of the trapping-grounds. But often by the trapper’s fire some gray-haired man will tell the tale of the old days when he took sides in this strange struggle. Every year Old Pegs comes down to St. Louis and spends a month in the company of his son and daughter—for he so regards them—and tells the boys wild stories of the plains and mountains where he has lived so long. May the day be far distant when he must lay his armor down. THE END DIME POCKET NOVELS. PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.