Grouse of the Northern Cattle Plains 91 



we had driven in a beef herd (which we wished 

 to ship to the cattle yards), round the old canton- 

 ment building, in which a few years ago troops 

 had been stationed to guard against Indian out- 

 breaks. Having taken care of the beef herd, I 

 determined to visit a little bunch of cattle which 

 was some thirty-five miles down the river, under 

 the care of one of my men a grizzled old fellow, 

 born in Maine, whose career had been varied to an 

 extent only possible in America, he having succes- 

 sively followed the occupations of seaman, druggist, 

 clerk, buffalo hunter, and cowboy. 



I intended to start about noon, but there was so 

 much business to settle that it was an hour and 

 a half afterward before I put spurs to the smart 

 little cow-pony and loped briskly down the valley. 

 It was a sharp day, the mercury well down toward 

 zero; and the pony, fresh and untired, and impa- 

 tient of standing in the cold, went along at a good 

 rate ; but darkness sets in so early at this season that 

 I had not gone many miles before I began to fear 

 that I would not reach the shack by nightfall. The 

 well-beaten trail followed along the bottoms for some 

 distance and then branched out into the Bad Lands, 

 leading up and down through the ravines and 

 over the ridge crests of some very rough and broken 

 country, and crossing a great level plateau, over 

 which the wind blew savagely, sweeping the pow- 

 dery snow clean off of the bent blades of short, 

 brown grass. After making a wide circle of some 

 twelve miles the trail again came back to the Little 



