Hunting from the Ranch 33 



ranch house. Cantering and trotting the band swept 

 toward the high, round horse-corral, in the open 

 glade to the rear of the house. Guided by the jut- 

 ting wing which stuck out at right angles, they en- 

 tered the open gate, which was promptly closed by 

 the cowboy who had driven them in. 



After breakfast we strolled over to the corral, 

 with our lariats, and, standing by the snubbing-post 

 in the middle, roped the horses we wished for the 

 party some that were gentle, and others that were 

 not. Then every man saddled his horse ; and at the 

 moment of mounting for the start there was, as 

 always, a thrill of mild excitement, each rider hop- 

 ing that his own horse would not buck, and that his 

 neighbor's would. I had no young horses on the 

 ranch at the time; but a number of the older ones 

 still possessed some of the least amiable traits of 

 their youth. 



Once in the saddle we rode off down river, along 

 the bottoms, crossing the stream again and again. 

 We went in Indian file, as is necessary among the 

 trees and in broken ground, following the cattle- 

 trails which themselves had replaced or broadened 

 the game paths that alone crossed the plateaus and 

 bottoms when my ranch house was first built. Now 

 we crossed open reaches of coarse grass, thinly 

 sprinkled with large, brittle cottonwood trees, their 

 branches torn and splintered; now we wound our 

 way through a dense jungle where the gray, thorny 



