CHAPTER II. 



HUNTING FROM THE RANCH ; THE BLACKTAIL DEER. 



NO life can be pleasanter than life during the months 

 of fall on a ranch in the northern cattle country. 

 The weather is cool ; in the evenings and on the 

 rare rainy days we are glad to sit by the great fireplace, 

 with its roaring cottonwood logs. But on most days not 

 a cloud dims the serene splendor of the sky ; and the 

 fresh pure air is clear with the wonderful clearness of 

 the high plains. We are in the saddle from morning 

 to night. 



The long, low, roomy ranch house, of clean hewed 

 logs, is as comfortable as it is bare and plain. We fare 

 simply but well ; for the wife of my foreman makes excel- 

 lent bread and cake, and there are plenty of potatoes, 

 grown in the forlorn little garden-patch on the bottom. 

 We also have jellies and jams, made from wild plums and 

 buffalo berries ; and all the milk we can drink. For meat 

 we depend on our rifles ; and, with an occasional interlude 

 of ducks or prairie chickens, the mainstay of each meal 

 is venison, roasted, broiled, or fried. 



Sometimes we shoot the deer when we happen on 



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