TWENTY YEARS IN THE ROCKIES. 2OQ 



were joyfully approaching the stream when we saw a fawn's 

 head rise above the grass. I leaped from my saddle, but 

 Mike forestalled me, and sent a ball crashing through the 

 animal's heart just as it rose to its feet. Another deer 

 jumped from the grass, and I shot it through the neck. 

 Then we all drank from the stream until our thirst was 

 sated. Afterward we journeyed on through the Bad Lands, 

 over hills and streams, frequently running on to game for 

 which we had no use, as we lacked the means for its trans- 

 portation. 



After dark we struck our old camp on Bovia Creek, 

 where the coyotes, which had been following us for miles, 

 were joined by others, and the band set up such a howling 

 that we could not hear each other talk. After they had 

 quieted down, wolves took up the refrain, which was kept 

 up until far into the night. Next morning we found them 

 still lingering near and gave a chase, killing four of the 

 whelps, just to get satisfaction for the loss of sleep we had 

 sustained. 



After we had moved out, from the top of a little knoll 

 we saw as many as twenty more of the beasts. I fired into 

 the mob, and such squalling and scattering as there was 

 there I have seldom seen. They went like feathers before a 

 gale. 



We met a party of twenty Indians, and had quite a 

 conversation with them about hunting, killing bears and 

 shooting other wild animals. They give bears, lions and rat- 

 tlesnakes a wide berth. When we arrived at Custer we pre- 

 sented one of the finest of the fawns to Captain Fowler, 

 and the other deer were distributed among the people. 



Three weeks later I received an invitation to go on a 

 fishing excursion on the upper Big Horn, which I was not 

 slow in accepting, and, in two days' time, our party was 

 catching whitefish by the dozen. 



