272 Hunting the Grisly 



of life, and walke d wearily on to his doom, 

 through the thick darkness and the driving 

 snow. At last his strength failed, and he lay 

 down in the tall grass of a little hollow. Five 

 months later, in the early spring, the riders 

 from the line camp found his body, resting 

 face downward, with the forehead on the 

 folded arms. 



Accidents of less &quot;degree are common. Men 

 break their collar-bones, arms, or legs by fall 

 ing when riding at speed over dangerous 

 ground, when cutting cattle or trying to con 

 trol a stampeded herd, or by being thrown 

 or rolled on by bucking or rearing horses; 

 or their horses, and on rare occasions even 

 they themselves, are gored by fighting steers. 

 Death by storm or in flood, death in striving 

 to master a wild and vicious horse, or in hand 

 ling maddened cattle, and too often death in 

 brutal conflict with one of his own fellows 

 any one of these is the not unnatural end 

 of the life of the dweller on the plains or in 

 the mountains. 



But a few years ago other risks had to be 

 run from savage beasts, and from the Indians. 

 Since I have been ranching on the Little 

 Missouri, two men have been killed by bears 

 in the neighborhood of my range; and in the 



