woman whose authentic adventures are matter of history, and who had really led the most marvellous life in every corner of the globe, yet whose imagination and love of exciting astonishment were so great that I always discounted fifty per cent. from her reminiscences. So it may have been with the Crow chief. In relation to this weakness, I find the following from an American newspaper:—
"There was a camp of miners in California to whom Beckwourth was well known, and when his life appeared they commissioned one of their number, who was going to San Francisco to obtain stores, to purchase the book. Not being very careful, he got by mistake a copy of the Bible. In the evening, after his return, the messenger was requested to read aloud to the rest from the long-expected work. Opening the volume at random, he hit upon and read aloud the story of Samson and the foxes. Whereupon one of the listeners cried: 'That'll do! I'd know that story for one of Jim Beckwourth's lies anywhere!'"
Against this cloudy reputation it may be remarked that perhaps the most extraordinary, desperately daring, and highly creditable adventure of his life, the account of which I had from an eye-witness who was a truthful gentleman, if such a man ever existed, and who had been at the same university where I myself graduated—is not mentioned in Bonner's life. It was as follows:—
"I do not think that Beckwourth was ever head chief among the Crows, though I dare say he made himself out to be such; but that he was really a sub-chief is true, for I myself was on the ground when they made him one—and a strange sight it was. Beckwourth was a very powerful man—he had been a blacksmith—and he certainly was a desperately brave fighter.
"A very large grizzly bear had been driven into a cave,
