Travelling in the Western Hunting Grounds. 23 



of the gullies, half a dozen white-tail deer jump up and, with 

 a whisk of their long-haired tails, disappear in the brush. Their 

 grotesque " stiff-kneed " bounds, unlike those of any other deer, 

 as well as the fact that they are rarely seen outside of dense cover, 

 make them difficult shooting. By and bye I have to cross soft 

 ground, where a big spring has made the ground for many acres 

 round it sodden and swampy. Here, apparently, a big band of 

 wapiti must have passed not many hours before, for the ground 

 is one mass of tracks ; the biggest herd of cattle one ever saw 

 could not have made more. They were going in the same direction 

 we are travelling, and they bear out what the Indians had told us, 

 namely, that all the wapiti in the higher range we have been 

 hunting in leave it at the approach of winter and collect in the 

 sheltered breaks and gullies whither we are heading. 



As meat is wanted for the pot, a young mule-deer buck is shot 

 shortly before we get into camp, and by the time the horses are 

 unpacked and have had their roll in the grass, and the fire is lighted, 

 I have had the two hind-quarters hanging in camp. There is 

 nothing left of one of them by the time we four and the two dogs 

 have appeased our appetites. As we are to move on early in the 

 morning, and the weather is fine, the tent is not stretched, and the 

 evening is passed in the usual pleasant manner, lounging round the 

 camp fire, each individual busy with something or other. Garments 

 need the proverbial stitch in time, moccasins want new raw-hide 

 soles, saddles require a wire stitch or other repairs, lash or cinchc 

 ropes need splicing, hobbles lack new rings to replace worn-out ones, 

 or the "fire-irons" the heavy, but sure, Sharp, the Winchester 

 .repeater, and the '500 Express rifle want the tender care which 

 the mountain man is wont to bestow on his old favourite. Is his 

 arm not as precious to the burly trapper as the babe is to its 

 mother? His life may any day depend upon the care which he- 

 has given it, and an irreparable accident to it may have more 

 serious consequences than if he had broken his own bones. 



But space will not permit one to dwell longer on the details of 

 camp life, for otherwise one could not describe, however briefly, 



