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 coulée. 1 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 coulée, 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- 
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