FOR two months after their return from their hunting expedition in “the woods,” Frank and Archie talked of nothing but the incidents that had transpired during their visit at the trapper’s cabin. The particulars of Frank’s desperate fight with the moose had become known throughout the village, and the “Young Naturalist” enjoyed an enviable reputation as a hunter. He was obliged to relate his adventures over and over again, until one day his thoughts and conversation were turned into a new channel by the arrival of an uncle, who had just returned from California.

Uncle James had been absent from home nearly ten years, and during most of that time had lived in the mines. Although the boys had not seen him since they were six years old, and of course could not remember him, they were soon on the best of terms with each other. Uncle James had an inexhaustible fund of stories; he had crossed the plains, fought the Indians, was accustomed to scenes of danger and excitement, and had such an easy way of telling his adventures, that the boys never grew tired of listening to them. The day after his arrival he visited the museum, gazed in genuine wonder at the numerous specimens of his nephews’ handiwork, and listened to the descriptions of their hunting expeditions with as much interest as though he had been a boy himself. Then he engaged in hunting with them, and entered into the sport with all the reckless eagerness of youth.

The winter was passed in this way, and when spring returned, Uncle James began to talk of returning to California to settle up his business. He had become attached to life in the mines, but could not bear the thought of leaving his relatives again. The quiet comforts he had enjoyed at the cottage he thought were better than the rough life and hard fare to which he had been accustomed for the last ten years. He had left his business, however, in an unsettled state, and, as soon as he could “close it up,” would return and take up his abode in Lawrence. The cousins regretted that the parting time was so near, for they looked upon their relative as the very pattern of an uncle, but consoled themselves by looking forward to the coming winter, when he would be settled as a permanent inmate of the cottage.

“I say, Frank,” exclaimed Archie one day, as he burst into the study, where his cousin was engaged in cleaning his gun preparatory to a muskrat hunt, “there’s something in the wind. Just now, as I came through the sitting-room, I surprised our folks and Uncle James talking very earnestly about something. But they stopped as soon as I came in, and, as that was a gentle hint that they didn’t want me to know any thing about it, I came out. There’s something up, I tell you.”

“It’s about uncle’s business, I suppose,” replied Frank. But if that was the subject of the conversation, Archie came to the conclusion that his affairs must be in a very unsettled state, for when they returned from their hunt that night the same mysterious conversation was going on again. It ceased, however, as the boys entered the room, which made Archie more firm in his belief than ever that there was “something up.”

The next morning, at the breakfast-table, Archie’s father announced his intention of returning to Portland at once, as his business needed his attention; and, turning to the boys, inquired:

“Well, have you had hunting enough this winter to satisfy you?”

“Yes, sir,” was the answer.

“Then I suppose you don’t want to go across the plains with your Uncle James?”

“Hurrah!” shouted Archie, springing to his feet, and upsetting his coffee-cup. “Did you say we might go?”

“Be a little more careful, Archie,” said his father. “No, I did not say so.”

“Well, it amounts to the same thing,” thought Archie, “for father never would have said a word about it if he wasn’t intending to let us go. I knew there was something up.”

We need not stop to repeat the conversation that followed. Suffice it to say, that Uncle James, having fully made up his mind to return to the village as soon as he could settle up his business, had asked permission for his nephews to accompany him across the plains. Their parents, thinking of the fight with the moose, and knowing the reckless spirit of the boys, had at first objected. But Uncle James, promising to keep a watchful eye on them, had, after considerable argument, carried the day, and it was finally decided that the boys could go.

“But remember,” said Mr. Winters, “you are to be governed entirely by Uncle James; for, if you have no one to take care of you, you will be in more fights with bears and panthers.”

The boys readily promised obedience, and, hardly waiting to finish their breakfast, went into the study to talk over their plans.

“Didn’t I tell you there was something up?” said Archie, as soon as they had closed the door. “We’ll have a hunt now that will throw all our former hunting expeditions in the shade.”

As soon as their excitement had somewhat abated, they remembered that Dick Lewis, the trapper, had told them that it was his intention to start for the prairie in the spring. If he had not already gone, would it not be a good plan to secure his company? He knew all about the prairie, and might be of service to them. They laid the matter before Uncle James, who, without hesitation, pronounced it an excellent idea. “For,” said he, “we are in no hurry. Instead of going by stage, we will buy a wagon and a span of mules and take our time. If we don’t happen to fall in with a train, we shall, no doubt, want a guide.” As soon, therefore, as the ice had left the creek so that it could be traveled with a boat, Uncle James accompanied the boys to the trapper’s cabin.

Dick met them at the door, and greeted them with a grasp so hearty, that they all felt its effects for a quarter of an hour afterward.

“I ain’t gone yet,” said he; “but it won’t be long afore I see the prairy onct more.”

“Well, Dick,” said Frank, “we’re going, too, and want you to go with us.”

The trapper and his brother opened their eyes wide with astonishment, but Uncle James explained, and ended by offering to pay the trapper’s expenses if he would accompany them. After a few moments’ consideration, he accepted the proposition, saying:

“I have tuk to the youngsters mightily. They’re gritty fellers, an’ I should like to show ’em a bit of prairy life.”

Uncle James and the boys remained at the cabin nearly a week, during which their plans were all determined upon, and, when they arrived at home, they at once commenced preparations for their journey. Their double-barreled shotguns were oiled, and put carefully away. They were very efficient weapons among small game, but Uncle James said they were not in the habit of using “pop-guns” on the prairie; they would purchase their fire-arms and other necessary weapons at St. Louis.

The first of June—the time set for the start—at length arrived, and with it came the trapper, accompanied by his dog. Dick carried his long rifle on his shoulder, his powder-horn and bullet-pouch at his side, and a knapsack, containing a change of clothes and other necessary articles, at his back. He had evidently bestowed more than usual care upon his toilet; his suit of buckskin was entirely new, and even his rifle seemed to have received a thorough rubbing and cleaning preparatory to its introduction into civilized life. Frank and Archie meeting him at the door, relieved him of his rifle and pack, and conducted him into the house. But here the trapper was sadly out of place. He sat on the edge of his chair, and was constantly changing the position of his feet, and looking down at the rich carpet, as if he could hardly believe that it was made to walk upon. The inmates of the cottage used every exertion in their power to make him feel at his ease, and, to some extent, succeeded; but he breathed much more freely when the farewells had been said, and the party was on its way to the wharf. In due time they arrived at Portland, where they remained nearly a week. Here the trapper again found himself in hot water. He was installed in a large, airy room in Mr. Winter’s elegant residence; but he would much rather have been assigned quarters among the trees in the yard. The sights and sounds of the city were new to him, and at every corner he found something to wonder at. When on the street, he was continually getting in somebody’s way, or being separated from his companions, who found it necessary to keep a vigilant watch over him. But it was on the train that his astonishment reached its height. He had never before traveled in the cars, and, as they thundered away, going faster and faster as they left the city behind, the trapper began to clutch his seat, and to look wistfully out the window at the woods, which appeared to be dancing by, as if he never expected to be permitted to enter his natural element again. He would have preferred to “foot it,” as he remarked, and, when at last they reached St. Joseph, he drew a long breath of relief, mentally resolving that he would never again tempt destruction by traveling either on a steamboat or railroad car.

It was midnight when they reached the hotel. Being very much fatigued with their long journey, they at once secured rooms and retired, and were soon fast asleep.