Hunting the Prong-Buck 97 



loneliness the death which he knew to be near at 

 hand. 



I unsaddled and picketed my horse, and followed 

 the old hunter into his smoky tepee ; sat down on the 

 pile of worn buffalo robes which formed his bedding, 

 and waited in silence while he fried some deer meat, 

 and boiled some coffee he was out of flour. As 

 I ate, he gradually unbent and talked quite freely, 

 and before I left he told me exactly where to find 

 the band, which he assured me was located for the 

 winter, and would not leave unless much harried. 



After a couple of hours' rest I again started, 

 and pushed out to the end of the Bad Lands. Here, 

 as there had been- no wind, I knew I should find in 

 the snow the tracks of one of the riders from the 

 line camp, whose beat lay along the edge of the 

 prairie for some eight miles, until it met the beat of 

 a rider from the line camp next above. As nightfall 

 came on it grew even colder ; long icicles hung from 

 the lips of my horse; and I shivered slightly in my 

 fur coat. I had reckoned the distance ill, and it was 

 dusk when I struck the trail; but my horse at once 

 turned along it of his own accord and began to lope. 

 Half an hour later I saw through the dark what 

 looked like a spark on the side of a hill. Toward this 

 my horse turned ; and in another moment a whinny- 

 ing from in front showed I was near the camp. The 

 light was shining through a small window, the camp 

 itself being a dugout with a log roof and front a 



5 VOL. II. 



