and shut up in strong pens, built of large logs of cotton-wood.  The snows, during a portion of the winter, were so deep that the poor animals could find but little sustenance.  Here and there a tuft of grass would peer above the snow; but they were in general driven to browse the twigs and tender branches of the trees.  When they were turned out in the morning, the first moments of freedom from the confinement of the pen were spent in frisking and gambolling.  This done, they went soberly and sadly to work, to glean their scanty subsistence for the day.  In the meantime the men stripped the bark of the cotton-wood tree for the evening fodder.  As the poor horses would return toward night, with sluggish and dispirited air, the moment they saw their owners approaching them with blankets filled with cotton-wood bark, their whole demeanor underwent a change.  A universal neighing and capering took place; they would rush forward, smell to the blankets, paw the earth, snort, whinny and prance round with head and tail erect, until the blankets were opened, and the welcome provender spread before them.  These evidences of intelligence and gladness were frequently recounted by the trappers as proving the sagacity of the animal.

These veteran rovers of the mountains look upon their horses as in some respects gifted with almost human intellect.  An old and experienced trapper, when mounting guard upon the camp in dark nights and times of peril, gives heedful attention to all the sounds and signs of the horses.  No enemy enters nor approaches the camp without attracting their notice, and their movements not only give a vague alarm, but it is said, will even indicate to the knowing trapper the very quarter whence the danger threatens.

In the daytime, too, while a hunter is engaged on the prairie, cutting up the deer or buffalo he has slain, he depends upon his faithful horse as a sentinel.  The sagacious animal sees and smells all round him, and by his starting and whinnying, gives notice of the approach of strangers.  There seems to be a dumb communion and fellowship, a sort of fraternal sympathy between the hunter and his horse.  They mutually rely upon each other for company and protection; and nothing is more difficult, it is said, than to surprise an experienced hunter on the prairie while his old and favorite steed is at his side.

Montero had not long removed his camp from the vicinity of the Crows, and fixed himself in his new quarters, when the Blackfeet marauders discovered his cantonment, and began to haunt the vicinity, He kept up a vigilant watch, however, and foiled every attempt of the enemy, who, at length, seemed to have given up in despair, and abandoned the neighborhood.  The trappers relaxed their vigilance, therefore, and one night, after a day of severe labor, no guards were posted, and the whole camp was soon asleep.  Toward midnight, however, the lightest sleepers were roused by the trampling of hoofs; and, giving the alarm, the whole