HIS MOUNTAIN RANCH. 33 



way carefully, stepping softly and avoiding stones 

 and twigs in his pathway for fear the noise would 

 disturb the game. At the opening of a beautiful 

 mountain meadow he stood entranced at the picture 

 which was presented to his gaze. At his feet, off to 

 the west, lay "Paradise Valley," as Harvey had 

 named his ranch. Down through a narrow defile in 

 the mountains, as through a golden frame tinged 

 with green, could be seen a picture the like of which 

 had never been limned by painter's brush. Looking 

 over the beautiful valley, all aglow with the beams 

 of the morning's sun, the circling crags of the high- 

 est mountain held in their mighty grasp, in peaceful 

 seclusion, the ideal home of one tired of the world 

 and its constant warfare. Out through the canon, 

 up which the winding trail led, was seen a vast cleft 

 at the foot of which lay a mirror-like lake, reflecting 

 the beauties of hill and dale. The grassy slope led 

 off on either side, and the clusters of fir, spruce, and 

 quaking asp trees formed a living picture in vivid 

 colors. 



While looking at the scene and breathing the 

 pure air which gave him new life, Dyche came upon 

 a large doe. The startled animal was hurrying across 

 the open ground and had just reached the edge of the 

 timber, when the gun spoke and she dropped in her 

 tracks with a ball through the shoulders. The vis- 

 cera were removed and the blood wiped out with 

 grass and leaves, and the ranch was reached just as 

 Harvey was preparing to get out of bed. At the 

 word " deer" the ranchman was half out, and before 

 the word " killed" was uttered he was dressing. 



