ioo A SPORTSMAN'S EDEN. 



me to knock her down with a good straight cut. 

 These grouse are the most preternaturally stupid 

 animals I ever saw, but cooked they are excellent. 

 A dinner at Bighorn Camp, Ashinola, is not a 

 very ceremonious affair. My guests rode up at 

 seven, and my men spread the seat of honour (a 

 red blanket) on the windward side of the fire, 

 under the lea of the tent. The Indians sat 

 opposite. I think they rather enjoy the pungent 

 smoke of a wood-fire. Outside, the dark pines 

 sheltered us from the wind, with whose voice a 

 wolfs howl was blended from time to time, as a 

 whiff of the savoury roast reached his nostrils. 

 Within the charmed circle of the firelight, all 

 was bright and cheery. Two old whisky-cases, 

 which held our stores, served for tables. The 

 billies and rifle-barrels gave back the gleams of 

 the blazing logs, while the bright red blankets in- 

 side my tent made a bright and cosy l interior/ 



And so we sang our songs, smoked our pipes, 

 and pledged one another in libations of whisky 

 and tea, while the men indulged in the luxuries 

 of ' packers' jam ' (i.e., brown sugar and bacon-fat), 

 ribs roasted in the embers, and cigarettes of 

 chopped ' pigtail ' and newspaper. 



That night we parted in good fellowship, and 

 promised, as our guests prepared to face the perils 

 of a homeward journey by as rough a road as 



