io Hunting the Grisly 



in a canyon of the Brazos known as Canyon 

 Blanco. The last few days of their journey 

 they traveled beside the river through a ver- 

 itable hunter's paradise. The drought had 

 forced all the animals to come to the larger 

 water-courses, and the country was literally 

 swarming with game. Every day, and all 

 day long, the wagons traveled through the 

 herds of antelopes that grazed on every side, 

 while, whenever they approached the canyon 

 brink, bands of deer started from the timber 

 that fringed the river's course; often, even 

 the deer wandered out on the prairie with the 

 antelope. Nor was the game shy ; for the hunt- 

 ers, both red and white, followed only the 

 buffaloes, until the huge, shaggy herds were 

 destroyed, and the smaller beasts were in con- 

 sequence but little molested. 



Once my brother shot five antelopes from 

 a single stand, when the party were short of 

 fresh venison; he was out of sight and to 

 leeward, and the antelopes seemed confused 

 rather than alarmed at the rifle-reports and the 

 fall of their companions. As was to be ex- 

 pected where game was so plenty, wolves and 

 coyotes also abounded. At night they sur- 

 rounded the camp, wailing and howling in a 

 kind of shrieking chorus throughout the hours 



