Colorado (1990)

We had a pretty bad winter in 1800. With the first signs of spring, St. Louis emerged from its lethargy. The big sailboats made the journey back up the Mississippi River and lined up along the jetty.

I didn't have a dime to my name. I'd spent all my savings in the local saloons. It was time to head west again and hunt beaver, so I could sell the skins to my associate at the time, Schwartzbauer the goldsmith.

I only took what was strictly necessary on these expeditions - a big knife, a sturdy two-handed axe, and Betty, my famous rifle with the maplewood stock. Schwartzbauer bought me a canoe and I sailed away on a
misty April morning.

I was canoeing quietly up the South Platte River when I suddenly heard shouts coming from the shore. I glimpsed a group of Pawnees between the trees, attacking an old Indian. I grabbed my faithful Betty, and
pulled the trigger. Once again, my aim was good. The head Pawnee bit the dust. The other warriors,... развернуть