Big Game in the Rockies 
of elk and deer fleeing from annihilation and 
the encroaching haunts of men. As soon as 
it was safe then, and in some instances un- 
questionably before, cattlemen, not inaptly 
styled pioneers of civilization, began to drift 
down along the valley of the Big Horn, and, 
like the patriarchs of old, “brought their 
flocks with them,” settling here and there, 
wherever they could find advantageous sites 
for their ranches. 
And now, as I propose to give some hunt- 
ing experiences of those days, if you will 
accompany me to Billings, on the Northern 
Pacific Railway, the nearest town to my ranch 
and the Mecca to which the devout cattleman 
drives his wagon for supplies, I will introduce 
you to the foot-hills and mountains, and some 
of the adventures therein. 
After four days on a sleeping-car, it is a 
delightful release to tumble out on a frosty 
September morning, and, being guided to 
where the ranch-wagon and crew are bivou- 
acked just outside the limits of the rapidly 
growing town, to get one’s breakfast on 
terra firma. No time is now to be wasted; 
the mules are hitched up; the little band of 
gI 
