CHAPTER II 



HUNTING FROM THE RANCH ; THE BLACKTAIL DEER 



NO life can be pleasanter than life during the 

 months of fall on a ranch in the northern cat- 

 tle country. The weather is cool; in the evenings 

 and on the rare rainy days we are glad to sit by the 

 great fireplace, with its roaring cottonwood logs. 

 But on most days not a cloud dims the serene splen- 

 dor of the sky ; and the fresh pure air is clear with 

 the wonderful clearness of the high plains. We are 

 in the saddle from morning to night. 



The long, low, roomy ranch house, of clean hewed 

 logs, is as comfortable as it is bare and plain. We 

 fare simply but well; for the wife of my foreman 

 makes excellent bread and cake, and there are plenty 

 of potatoes, grown in the forlorn little garden-patch 

 on the bottom. We also have jellies and jams, made 

 from wild plums and buffalo berries ; and all the milk 

 we can drink. For meat we depend on our rifles; 

 and, with an occasional interlude of ducks or prairie 

 chickens, the mainstay of each meal is venison, 

 roasted, broiled, or fried. 



Sometimes we shoot the deer when we happen 



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