TWENTY YEARS IN THE ROCKIES. 269 



picketed our horses, and set out after the festive black-tails. 



We headed for a rimrock fringed with pine, dotted with 

 quaking-asps and box elders, and made a drive hunt. Chap- 

 pell took the right and I the left, agreeing to meet at a certain 

 point of rocks. I had just crossed the little stream when 

 Chappell's old Bullard rifle awoke the neighborhood with a 

 piercing sound. I hastily threw a cartridge into the cham- 

 ber of my gun and strained my eyes for deer, but none came 

 in sight. I was now on my mettle and resolved that if there 

 was a deer in that country I would add him to our larder, so 

 I plunged into the quaking-asp, from there went on to the 

 pines and the rimrock, but a few old buck tracks were all 

 I could find. 



It was dark when I turned to go to camp and I heard, 

 although very faintly, in the distance the snap of a stick, but 

 my practiced ear rarely errs in such a matter. I marked the 

 direction, crept carefully along and listened. I could hear 

 the leaves pack under the tread as the footsteps came closer, 

 and I believed that I had stalked a lion, so I lay down in the 

 trail to surprise his majesty when he came up to me. In a 

 moment I could see something approaching very cautiously, 

 and drew my rifle to my face and raised the hammer, but held 

 my thumb carefully on it. On the figure came and I was sure 

 that I had game, but,, as I never shot at random in my life, 

 this was a time for me to be on my guard. Another stick 

 cracked, and then I began to think it was nothing worth my 

 while and lowered my gun. Presently I could see a black 

 object, which anyone would have sworn was a bear, crawl- 

 ing under some fallen brush only about forty yards away. 



I said in a low tone, "Is that you, Chappell ?" 



The answer came, "You bet, what are you doing away 

 up here ? I thought you had gone to camp." 



"One careless shot and you would have been an angel," 

 I replied. 



