outside my lodge. Neow, in the mornin',
that tatur was just whar' I put it. Neow,
ef the 'arth had turned round, whar' ud
that tatur hev' bin?' But he didn't say
nothin', but giv' a kind of laugh. ' No,' sez
I, ' ef the 'arth turned reound thar' would
be the tallest scatterin' uv the nations you
ever did see. No, mister,' sez I, ' the 'arth's
as flat as a pancake, and I know it.' And
with that he vamoozed."

Baillie had been a good deal employed as
guide to emigrants (or, as he called them,
"emigranters"), for whom he had a
supreme contempt. The only job of that
sort he ever looked back upon with
pleasure was the piloting of a troop of United
States cavalry for service in the Indian
war of 1855. He greatly admired the
"smartness" of the major in command,
and the way he settled a troublesome
account. They had lost a waggon here, and
sold a horse there. A soldier had sold or
bartered his carbine now and then; and, in
fact, their accounts were in such a state
that to present a report and to account for
everything to the quartermaster-general
was impossible. At last they came to the
Columbia River, and to a place where there
was a good deal-of dry timber. "Are
there any falls about here, Baillie?" the
major asked. Oh, yes; the falls of the
Columbia were not over a mile. "Well,
then," the major thought, " we'll build a
raft; the road's pretty bad." On the raft
was placed a broken waggon, a three-
legged mule, five or six broken carbines,
an empty cask, and a few more such
valuables. The major wished to guide it
along with ropes, and, though Baillie
assured him that the current was so strong
that this was impracticable, he insisted.
At last the men shouted that they could
hold on no longer. "Well, then, let go!"
was the answer; and over the falls in a
few minutes went the raft and its contents.
"The major cussed a small chance for
show sake," Baillie remarked, " but arter a
while he winked, and sed to me, ' I guess
that's an A. Q. G* way o' squarin'
accounts!' Everything and something more,
too that was missing, got scored opposite
to it in his book: ' Lost on a raft in the
Columbia River!'"

*Assistant quartermaster-general

But of all the men Baillie knew, those for
whom he had the greatest contempt were
the " shootin' gentlemen." Sometimes,
when he went down into the settlements,
he was asked to act as guide to parties
of town sportsmen, his character as a
hunter being famous. " They come,"
Baillie remarked, "in their store clothes,
biled rags, and satin waistcoats, with lots
of provision and whisky (which ain't to be
laughed at though), though a hunter takin'
pro-vision into the mountings with him is
the greatest notion I ever heern on. Afore
they camp at night, they load their rifles,
in case of bars; next mornin' they fire 'em
off, in case they're damp; and that, cap'n,
as you know, don't bring the deer within a
mile or so of the camp. Going out, they
see nothin', and swear there ain't no game
areound. They then take a few drinks of
old rye, which makes them talky, and then
they begin somethin' about the darn
'lection ticket, or to shootin' at marks. 'Bout
this time they get hungry, and so back to
camp, and afore their supper is over, it's
dark. They then load their shootin' irons
again and so the same old game goes on.
Darn me ef it don't, cap'n! When it's
about time fur them to go to hum, I tell
'em to hold on, and not to fire, and so I go
out and shoot 'em a varment of some sort
apiece to show when they go back to the
settlements as their shootin', they
meanwhile pickin' berries and talkin' 'lection.
I guess they like that about as well. Then
they don't wash their faces for a day, tear
their store clothes a bit, and go back to
the settlements as big as a dog with a tin
tail, and jest about as nat'ral—darn 'em!"

Baillie in his day had endured many
hardships.  He had made meals on many
anomalous things from the animal and
vegetable worlds, including a pair of old
mocassins, sage brush leaves, grass-hoppers,
and beaver skins; and had more than
once eaten his horse from under him;
but he declared that an old carrion crow
was the most unpalatable article he ever
dined on.* In reference to this (and the
phrase he also applied metaphorically to
many things in life, which though not
unbearable, are yet scarcely to be wished for)
he used to say, "I kin eat crow, cap'n,
but darn me, ef I hanker arter it!"

The fall of beaver sounded the death knell
of the old free trapper. One day a pestilent
fellow discovered silk to be a substitute for
the napping of "beaver hats," and so
beaver was " quoted " at a reduced figure.
That 'Change announcement, simple as it
was, may be said to have echoed through

* In this he agreed with the late Prince Lucian
Bonaparte, who remarked on one occasion that in all
his ornithological expeditions in America, he had been
always able to make a " comfortable meal " on
anything he came across, " except a Turkey buzzard and
an alligator."