OUR CAMP ON WALNUT CREEK 



by a good jump we could clear the water that 

 occupied its bottom. On top of the banks the 

 ground for some distance around was smooth 

 and level, bearing no other vegetation but the 

 short, nutritious buffalo-grass. 



Pitching our tent in a convenient place for our 

 work, we turned out the stock, picketing the gray 

 mare and Prince. Tom was to ride the "buck- 

 skin" bronco to look for a hay-field. 



Jack and I soon had our coyote and beaver pelts 

 stretched and pegged down on a smooth piece of 

 ground. 



"I'll try to get back," said Tom as he mounted 

 Vinegar, "in time for you men to go and put out 

 your baits for the night; and in the meantime, 

 while you're resting, you may as well get out the 

 pick and shovel and turn yourselves loose on them 

 dugouts, just to see if you've forgot how to work. 

 You'd better begin on the horses' stable and we'll 

 try to finish that up first, for if a "norther" should 

 catch us the stock'd be in a bad fix for shelter, 

 while our tent'd shelter us, all right." 



In a couple of hours Tom returned, reporting 

 that he had found, in a bend of the creek just 

 below us, a large bottom that would afford us all 

 the hay we would want. 



"Now, men," he said as he unsaddled and 

 turned out the bronco, "we've got lots to do 

 that's pressing us, and, as the wolf poisoning and 

 beaver trapping ain't pressing and won't suffer 



133 



