The Deer of the River Bottoms 131 



centre of the whirlwind struck it did great damage, 

 sheets of hailstones as large as pigeons eggs strik 

 ing the earth with the velocity of bullets; next day 

 the hailstones could have been gathered up by the 

 bushel from the heaps that lay in the bottom of the 

 gullies and ravines. One of my cowboys was out 

 in the storm, during whose continuance he crouched 

 under his horse s belly; coming home he came across 

 some antelope so numb and stiffened that they could 

 barely limp out of the way. 



Near my ranch the hail killed quite a number 

 of lambs. These were the miserable remnants of 

 a flock of twelve thousand sheep driven into the 

 Bad Lands a year before, four-fifths of whom had 

 died during the first winter, to the delight of all 

 the neighboring cattle-men. Cattle-men hate sheep, 

 because they eat the grass so close that cattle can 

 not live on the same ground. The sheep-herders 

 are a morose, melancholy set of men, generally 

 afoot, and with no companionship except that of the 

 bleating idiots they are hired to guard. No man 

 can associate with sheep and retain his self-respect. 

 Intellectually a sheep is about on the lowest level 

 of the brute creation; why the early Christians ad 

 mired it, whether young or old, is to a good cattle 

 man always a profound mystery. 



The wagon came on to the creek, along whose 

 banks we had taken shelter, and we then went into 

 camp. It rained all night, and there was a thick 

 mist, with continual sharp showers, all the next 

 day and night. The wheeling was, in consequence, 



