Epilogue
On a fine day in June, curious and busy groups were stationed in the vicinity of one of the richest hotels in St. Louis, the great city sitting nonchalantly on the banks of the Father of Waters (the Indian name for the Missouri).
A few gentlemen and even a few ladies did not disdain to probe the horizon with their cute crystal binoculars; several foolish misses circulated in the crowd, very much at a loss to know what was more important to them, to satisfy their curiosity or to show off their rosy cheeks and their fresh toilettes.
Soon a swift cavalcade appeared amidst the billows of dust. It was preceded by a troop wearing the colourful and sumptuous equipment of the fantastic hunters of the far west; at their head galloped on a superb horse as black as ebony, a tall rider, wi
