Blacktails in the Bad Lands 



when, after quietly watching- for twenty min- 

 utes, no deer appeared, my mind went back 

 to the foreman's remark about killing a steer. 



However, it remained for me to go up to 

 the point where it was probable the buck 

 entered the coulee. I accordingly did so, 

 hunting every inch of the way, and looking 

 for sign and whatever else might turn up. 

 I saw nothing, however, but two grouse that 

 startled me, as they always do, but especially 

 when my nerves are strung up as they were 

 just then. What course the buck had taken, 

 was now the question. Doubling back to my 

 old conclusion that he had gone straight, I 

 went out of the coulee, and followed on the 

 line he had gone. At first it led over another 

 small plateau, then it dipped down again into 

 some more bad lands, cut up and broken 

 with picturesque red scoria hills covered with 

 straggling twisted cedar-trees. 



About this time my ardor for this particular 

 buck had begun to subside, and he was now 

 anybody's game. Being somewhat tired as 

 well, I climbed to the top of a round clay 

 butte, sat down, and lighted a pipe. I had 

 been smoking for about ten minutes, enjoy- 

 291 



