The Whitetail Deer 63 



a trail through the bottoms and choosing the best 

 crossing places. Some of the bottoms were grassy 

 pastures; on others great, gnarled cottonwoods 

 with shivered branches stood in clumps; yet others 

 were choked with a true forest growth. Late in 

 the afternoon we went into camp, choosing a spot 

 where the cottonwoods were young; their glossy 

 leaves trembled and rustled unceasingly. We speed- 

 ily picketed the horses changing them about as 

 they ate off the grass, drew water, and hauled 

 great logs in front of where we had pitched the 

 tent, while the wagon stood nearby. Each man 

 laid out his bed; the food and kitchen kit were 

 taken from the wagon; supper was cooked and 

 eaten; and we then lay round the camp-fire, gazing 

 into it, or up at the brilliant stars, and listening 

 to the wild, mournful wailing of the coyotes. They 

 were very plentiful round this camp; before sunrise 

 and after sundown they called unceasingly. 



Next day I took a long tramp and climb after 

 mountain-sheep and missed a running shot at a fine 

 ram, about a hundred yards off ; or, rather, I hit him 

 and followed his bloody trail a couple of miles, but 

 failed to find him ; whereat I returned to camp much 

 cast down. 



Early the following morning Sylvane and I 

 started for another hunt, this time on horseback. 

 The air was crisp and pleasant; the beams of the 

 just-risen sun struck sharply on the umber-colored 



