Deer of the River Bottoms. 119 



On the trip in question we had at first very bad 

 weather. Leaving the ranch in the morning, two of us, 

 who were mounted, pushed on ahead to hunt, the wagon 

 following slowly, with a couple of spare saddle ponies lead- 

 ing behind it. Early in the afternoon, while riding ovef 

 the crest of a great divide, which separates the drainage 

 basins of two important creeks, we saw that a tremendous 

 storm was brewing with that marvellous rapidity which is 

 so marked a characteristic of weather changes on the 

 plains. A towering mass of clouds gathered in the 

 northwest, turning that whole quarter of the sky to an 

 inky blackness. From there the storm rolled down 

 toward us at a furious speed, obscuring by degrees the 

 light of the sun, and extending its wings toward each 

 side, as if to overlap any that tried to avoid its path. 

 Against the dark background of the mass could be seen 

 pillars and clouds of gray mist, whirled hither and thither 

 by the wind, and sheets of level rain driven before it. 

 The edges of the wings tossed to and fro, and the wind 

 shrieked and moaned as it swept over the prairie. It 

 was a storm of unusual intensity ; the prairie fowl rose 

 in flocks from before it, scudding with spread wings 

 toward the thickest cover, and the herds of antelope ran 

 across the plain like race-horses to gather in the hollows 

 and behind the low ridges. 



We spurred hard to get out of the open, riding with 

 loose reins for the creek. The centre of the storm 

 swept by behind us, fairly across our track, and we 

 only got a wipe from the tail of it. Yet this itself 

 we could not have faced in the open. The first gust 



