in a well-tanned buffalo skin, white and clean. The four Indians took the body and placed it in the grave, and the old man, removing his cap, to our astonishment, said, "Now, maybe some white man who knows religion will make a little prayer over the poor fellow!" The half-breeds, perhaps not understanding the English the old chief spoke, began pushing in the sand with their moccasined feet. Thus the Argonaut of 1850 was laid to his final rest, with only the wild birds to sing his requiem. The old Indian had brought along a smooth board to place at the head of the grave, and at his request, I wrote:
John Wilson, St. Louis, Mo., 1850.
Left by his company and nursed by Hoo Goo Chee.
He told us Wilson had traveled as long as he was able, and begged his companions to leave him there alone to die. He told the chief he had no complaint to make of his fellows. We mention the incident to show that the beautiful trait of unselfishness has a place even among Indians. The old chief could easily have buried the body near his mountain home without bearing it the long distance to be near the road, where the grave could be seen by his friends. He might have used an old blanket instead of the costly dressed robe the Indian prized so highly. Here we found a savage who, like the Flatheads, had heard of "the white
