That night,
while we were eatin' our supper, a party of horsemen came gallopin'
an' yellin' down the bank of the river, an', ridin' up to the door of
the cabin, dismounted, an', leavin' their horses to take care of
themselves, came in without ceremony. We knowed very well who they
were. They were a band of outlaws an' robbers, that had been in the
county ever since I could remember, an', bein' too lazy to make an
honest livin' by trappin', they went around plunderin' an' stealin'
from every one they come across. They had stole three or four horses
from us, an' had often come to our cabin an' called for whisky; but
that was an article father never kept on hand. Although he was an ole
trapper, an' had lived in the woods all his life, he never used it,
an' didn't believe in sellin' it to the red-skins. The captain of the
outlaws was a feller they called "Mountain Tom," an' he was meaner
than the meanest Injun I ever see. He didn't think no more of cuttin'
a man's throat than you would of shootin' a buck. The minute they came
into the cabin we could see that they had all been drinkin'.
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