Thither the company men, free trappers, and Indians foregathered. The business of exchange and supply was quickly transacted with beaver skins serving as money. Then came the celebration, and what a gala event it was. Trappers sought to indemnify themselves for the sufferings and privations of a year in the wilderness. Squaw men parted with their “hairy bank notes” in order to bedeck their spouses in bright cloth and gewgaws. Here were men with reputations to sustain, proud men with a streak of wild vanity: “Old Knock Him Stiff,” “Old Straightener,” “Dead-Eye Dick,” “Broken Hand,” Kit, Joe, and Jim. Most mountain men were openhanded, and they squandered a year’s earnings in a few days of prodigal indulgence. Coffee and chocolate were prepared; the kegs were emptied; all pipes were kept aglow; free and generous spirits moved by day and night.[85] Truly this burnt and seamy-faced band was an all-American aggregation. The veterans boasted “most enormous adventures” in mountain experience. Each represented himself as more than a match for any possible array of Indians or grizzlies. Narrations waxed romantic in the desire to astonish the new recruits. Extravagant and absurd as their yarns were, there was always a current of rude, good humor that allowed each listener to believe as little as he liked. There were rollicking, fiery, boisterous, swaggering southerners; quiet, steel-eyed northerners; mercurial French; loquacious Irish; calculating Scots; greedy middlemen; shrewd dealers; squaw men; Indian haters; Indians of many nations; pals; rivals; and enemies. Everyone was invited; no one was missing. It was a self-propelling circus, one show a year, the antecedent of roundup, rodeo, fair, and tournament. Contests of skill were carried to a point of jeopardizing life. There were William Tell episodes and no mistakes, trials of speed and strength for both horse and man. There was plenty of flirting, feasting, carousing, and outright debauchery. All were on friendly terms today, but each was unconsciously aware that tomorrow their relationships would change, and woe unto him who was caught unaware! The rendezvous was perhaps the most colorful, spontaneous, lusty, and romantic institution ever known among civilized men. It was conceived, nurtured, and abandoned within a score of years (1824-1840). A fleeting climax to a picturesque band—they came from everywhere, wrote a saga that reads like an epoch from a long-forgotten age, then vanished from the scene.