American Big-Game Hunting 



whatever they possessed. The memory of 

 those distant dwellers among the mountains, 

 young and old, is a friendly one, like the 

 others I carry, whether of Wind or Powder 

 Rivers, or the Yellowstone, or wherever 

 Western trails have led me. 



Yet disappointment and failure were the 

 first things. There was all the zeal you could 

 wish. We had wedged painfully into a se- 

 vere country — twelve miles in two days, and 

 trail-cutting between — when sickness turned 

 us back, goatless. By this time October was 

 almost gone, and the last three days of it went 

 in patching up our disintegrated outfit. We 

 needed other men and other horses; and 

 while these were being sought, nothing was 

 more usual than to hear "if we 'd only been 

 along with So-and-So, he saw goats " here and 

 there, and apparently everywhere. We had, 

 it would seem, ingeniously selected the only 

 place where there were none. But somehow 

 the services of So-and-So could not be pro- 

 cured. He had gone to town ; or was busy 

 getting his winter's meat ; or his married 

 daughter had just come to visit him, or he 

 had married somebody else's daughter. I 

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