RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 3* 



were frozen, and so noisy that it would be almost impossible 

 to get within range of him without alarming him. The snow 

 was not deep enough to even deaden the noise, and so was of 

 no assistance to me. But I set out in the direction from 

 whence the music came. It came from the top of one of the 

 high ridges to the south of the canyon, probably half a mile 

 from where I was. I had to exercise the greatest care in 

 climbing the canyon wall, and when I reached the spot 

 where I had heard the whistle I found the tracks, large as 

 those of a three-year-old steer, but the author of them was 

 not there. While I was pondering over them and sizing up 

 (in my mind) the animal that could make such tracks, I 

 heard the whistle again away to the north. I picked my way 

 cautiously through gulches, over "hog-backs" and hills, and 

 when I reached the desired locality I heard Mr. Wapiti 

 winding his horn from the top of another ridge half a mile 

 to the south. 



Away I went again, trembling all the time lest he should 

 wind me or hear some of the noises I was compelled to make, 

 and bid adieu to his present stamping-ground. But he was so 

 intent on finding some of the coy maidens of his harem 

 among these hills that he didn't notice me, and this time as 

 I reached the brow of the hill I heard a movement in a 

 thicket ahead, caught a faint outline of the monster as he 

 passed through the brush, and when he stopped I could see a 

 patch of reddish brown hair as large as my hat. In an 

 instant the old pill-driver lay with her heel pressing firmly 

 against my shoulder, a cloud of smoke arose from her mouth, 

 and there was a mad charge across the top of the ridge that 

 showed too plainly that the pill had commenced to operate. 



As the broadside was presented to me in crossing an 

 opening I sent in another dose, and then all was still. I ran 

 up a little farther, and saw him standing in another thicket. 



