Hunting from the Ranch 47 



sion when my ranch partner, Robert Munro Fergu 

 son, and I almost corraled an unlucky deer in a 

 small washout. 



It was October, and our meat supply unexpectedly 

 gave out; on our ranch, as on most ranches, an oc 

 casional meat famine of three or four days inter 

 venes between the periods of plenty. So Ferguson 

 and I started together, to get venison; and at the 

 end of two days hard work, leaving the ranch by 

 sunrise, riding to the hunting grounds and tramp 

 ing steadily until dark, we succeeded. The weather 

 was stormy and there were continual gusts of wind 

 and of cold rain, sleet, or snow. We hunted through 

 a large tract of rough and broken country, six or 

 eight miles from the ranch. As often happens in 

 such wild weather the deer were wild too ; they were 

 watchful and were on the move all the time. We 

 saw a number, but either they ran off before we 

 could get a shot, or if we did fire it was at such a 

 distance or under such unfavorable circumstances 

 that we missed. At last, as we were plodding drear 

 ily up a bare valley, the sodden mud caking round 

 our shoes, we roused three deer from the mouth of 

 a short washout but a few paces from us. Two 

 bounded off; the third by mistake rushed into the 

 washout, where he found himself in a regular 

 trap and was promptly shot by my companion. 

 We slung the carcass on a pole and carried it 

 down to where we had left the horses; and then 



