TWENTY YEARS IN THE ROCKIES. 217 



Major started up a tree, as lively as a cat, not remem- 

 bering that the lion could climb too. I fired at the animal 

 again as it was entering the den, but think I overshot. We 

 now made a general survey of the field of carnage,, congrat- 

 ulating ourselves upon the good work done. We poisoned 

 the carcasses of a large sheep and of a deer for the benefit 

 of the survivors, if there were any, and left the point of 

 rocks untenanted by its former bloodthirsty inhabitants. 



As I had a week in which to reach the point for which I 

 had started, I was in no hurry to leave the game, which was 

 plentiful here, or the Major, who was a capital story teller. 

 His stories were mostly of incidents connected with his own 

 life, which had been strange and eventful. About seven 

 o'clock that night, the little "jerkey," which was to bear me 

 on my journey, came rattling up to the door. We passed 

 a very pleasant evening together, the Major giving the driver 

 a full account of our victory over the yellow dogs. Early the 

 next morning we started out on our further way. The river 

 bottoms were covered with buffaloes and antelopes, and the 

 country was appropriately termed the "Indian's paradise." 

 After a hard day's drive, swimming streams, etc., we arrived, 

 completely exhausted at the old camp below* where Miles 

 Citv now stands. 



