Big Game in the Rockies 
ing poison-weed, I determined to go back 
and camp, and see if another skin could not 
be added to the score. It did not take long 
to pick out an ideal camping-spot, well shel- 
tered, with plenty of dry wood, and trout 
from the little stream almost jumping into 
the frying-pan. 
Our horses had been having pretty rough 
times lately, and they lost no time in storing 
away as much of the rich grass as they could 
hold. They had plenty of society, too, for 
the slope was dotted here and there with 
bunches of range cattle and bands of horses, 
not to mention the recent additions to the 
families of each in the shape of frolicsome 
calves and frisky foals, all busily at work. 
Bruin seemed rather out of place in such a 
pastoral scene, and yet, as one looked higher 
beyond the somber heights of the forest 
toward the frowning crown rock that re- 
sembled some mighty fortress forbidding fur- 
ther progress, or the everlasting snow-peaks 
above, one could well fancy that wild animals 
must be up there somewhere, either in the 
dense woods or in the still higher and safer 
retreats. 
123 
