230 Hunting Trips on the Prairie 



dogs whose town was near me. The sun had not 

 yet risen, and the air had the peculiar chill it always 

 takes on toward morning, while little wreaths of 

 light mist rose from the pools. Getting up and 

 loosing Manitou to let him feed round where he 

 wished and slake his thirst , I took the rifle, strolled 

 up the creek valley a short distance, and turned off 

 out on the prairie. Nothing was in sight in the way 

 of game; but overhead a skylark was singing, soar- 

 ing up above me so high that I could not make out 

 his form in the gray morning light. I listened for 

 some time, and the music never ceased for a mo- 

 ment, coming down clear, sweet, and tender from 

 the air above. Soon the strains of another an- 

 swered from a little distance off, and the two kept 

 soaring and singing as long as I stayed to listen; 

 and when I walked away I could still hear their notes 

 behind me. In some ways the skylark is the sweet- 

 est singer we have ; only certain of the thrushes rival 

 it, but though the songs of the latter have perhaps 

 even more melody, they are far from being as unin- 

 terrupted and well sustained, being rather a succes- 

 sion of broken bursts of music. 



The sun was just appearing when I walked back 

 to the creek bottom. Coming slowly out of a patch 

 of brushwood, was a doe, going down to drink ; her 

 great, sensitive ears thrown forward as she peered 

 anxiously and timidly round. She was very watch- 

 ful, lifting her head and gazing about between every 

 few mouthfuls. When she had drunk her fill she 

 snatched a hasty mouthful or two of the wet grass, 



