American Big-Game Hunting 
ever undertook, and more than once was on the 
point of giving it up. However, my desire to 
substantiate my claim of having bagged the 
largest deer of any of the party sharpened 
my wits. Snubbing “ Coffee’s” nose up tight 
against a tree growing at the base of a ledge 
on to which I had succeeded in dragging and 
rolling the carcass, I blindfolded him with my 
hunting-shirt, and then managed to roll the 
buck on the pack from the ledge. 
By the time this was accomplished, the sun 
was sinking behind the mountain. Returning 
slowly to the valley, no course was left me 
but to camp for the night, for I was at least 
fifteen miles from the stockade. I may have 
been a fit subject for the Society for the Preven- 
tion of Cruelty to Animals, but “‘ Coffee” spent 
that night in the embrace of a ‘“ diamond 
hitch,” holding the buck securely on his back. 
After making a hearty supper off the bear- 
meat, and dressing the wounds of the dogs,— 
which, by the way, healed rapidly, consider- 
ing their terrible nature and the fact that I 
had nothing but bear’s-grease to dress them 
with,—I hobbled ‘“ Coffee,” and, being thor- 
oughly exhausted, rolled myself up in a 
84 
