256 ADVENTURES OF DR. ALLEN. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



THE SPORTSMEN'S OLD HAUNTS Indian summer on the mountain a big horn 

 chase my largest ram. 



In 1886 I was in Cooke City, where my dental work had 

 called me. It was four years since I had indulged myself in 

 a regular hunt. I had arranged for a hunting trip with some 

 friends, and the appointed hour had passed and they had not 

 appeared. My old Bullard stood in the corner. Cartridges, 

 belt, knife and hunting suit,, all were ready, and I felt the 

 keenest disappointment. 



Many changes had taken place in the sportsmen's old 

 haunts. Where game had recently roamed the forests was 

 now taken as ranges for domestic stock. The game had been 

 driven far back into the high crags and mountains, such as 

 the Index and Electric peaks, which stand eleven and twelve 

 thousand feet above the level of the sea, the hunter being 

 forced to climb those rugged cliffs to find satisfactory game. 



The following morning even brought no news of my 

 comrades. Anxiety and suspense overcame me. I grasped 

 my faithful old friend, threw down the lever and surveyed 

 the inside which gleamed like a mirror. It was my Bullard 

 rifle, 45 calibre, eighty-five grains of powder, ten pounds 

 weight and ten shots. I seized my cartridge belt, my knife, 

 a cold lunch and started out. 



The sun shone warmly and the smoke from the smelters 

 gave an appearance of Indian summer. I soon gained a for- 

 est of pines whose boughs were loaded with nuts. The little 



