76 The Wilderness Hunter 



over the butte nearby, and halted to yell and wail; 

 afterward he crossed the coulie and from the hill 

 side opposite again shrieked in dismal crescendo. 

 The dawn brightened rapidly; the little skylarks of 

 the plains began to sing, soaring far overhead, while 

 it \vas still much too dark to see them. Their song 

 is not powerful, but it is so clear and fresh and 

 long-continued that it always appeals to one very 

 strongly; especially because it is most often heard 

 in the rose-tinted air of the glorious mornings, while 

 the listener sits in the saddle, looking across the 

 endless sweep of the prairies. 



As it grew lighter the cattle became restless, ris 

 ing and stretching themselves, while we continued 

 to ride round them. 



&quot;Then the bronc began to pitch 



And I began to ride ; 

 He bucked me off a cut bank, 

 Hell! I nearly died!&quot; 



sang Latigo from the other side of the herd. A 

 yell from the wagons told that the cook was sum 

 moning the sleeping cow-punchers to breakfast; we 

 were soon able to distinguish their figures as they 

 rolled out of their bedding, wrapped and corded it 

 into bundles, and huddled sullenly round the little 

 fires. The horse-wranglers were driving in the sad 

 dle bands. All the cattle got on their feet and started 

 feeding. In a few minutes the hasty breakfast at 

 the wagons had evidently been despatched, for we 



