Hunting from the Ranch 47 



sion when my ranch partner, Robert Munro Fergu- 

 son, and I almost corraled an unlucky deer in a 

 small washout. 



It was October, and our meat supply unexpectedly 

 gave out; on our ranch, as on most ranches, an oc- 

 casional meat famine of three or four days inter- 

 venes between the periods of plenty. So Ferguson 

 and I started together, to get venison; and at the 

 end of two days' hard work, leaving the ranch by 

 sunrise, riding to the hunting grounds and tramp- 

 ing steadily until dark, we succeeded. The weather 

 was stormy and there were continual gusts of wind 

 and of cold rain, sleet, or snow. We hunted through 

 a large tract of rough and broken country, six or 

 eight miles from the ranch. As often happens in 

 such wild weather the deer were wild too ; they were 

 watchful and were on the move all the time. We 

 saw a number, but either they ran off before we 

 could get a shot, or if we did fire it was at such a 

 distance or under such unfavorable circumstances 

 that we missed. At last, as we were plodding drear- 

 ily up a bare valley, the sodden mud caking round 

 our shoes, we roused three deer from the mouth of 

 a short washout but a few paces from us. Two 

 bounded off; the third by mistake rushed into the 

 washout, where he found himself in a regular 

 trap and was promptly shot by my companion. 

 We slung the carcass on a pole and carried it 

 down to where we had left the horses; and then 



