CHAPTER ONE<br >P from the edge of the prairie and<br >over the range rode three. Their<br >buckskin was black with blood<br >and shiny from much wiping of<br >greasy krfives and nearly all the<br >fringes had been cut off their<br >pants for thongs. Hair laung thick and dirty to<br >their shoulders. Traps rattled in rucksacks behind<br >their Spanish saddles and across the pommel each<br >carried a long Hawkins rifle of shining brass-<br >bound steel and battered wooden stock. Six pack<br >mules bulged with square bales of beaver worth<br >eight dollars a pound in St. Louis and six in the<br >mountains.<br > They travelled in a long string， old Rube<br >Thatcher leading and Gullion and young Sam<br >Lash hard at the rumps of the mules， cursing any<br >that straggled. All of their stock was gaunt from<br >long going but still they rode hard with iron spurs<br >ajingle against their horses ribs.<br > More wealth was in their packs than any of<br >[i]<br ><br >