52 The Wilderness Hunter. 



had come to regard the silent, deserted buildings as mere 

 outgrowths of the wilderness, no more to be feared than 

 the trees around them or the gray, strangely shaped buttes 

 behind. 



Lines of delicate, heart-shaped footprints in the muddy 

 reaches of the half-dry river-bed showed where the deer 

 came to water ; and in the dusty cattle-trails among the 

 ravines many round tracks betrayed the passing and re- 

 passing of timber wolves, once or twice in the late even- 

 ing we listened to their savage and melancholy howling. 

 Cotton-tail rabbits burrowed under the verandah. Within 

 doors the bushy-tailed pack-rats had possession, and at 

 night they held a perfect witches' sabbath in the garret and 

 kitchen ; while a little white-footed mouse, having dragged 

 half the stuffing out of a mattress, had made thereof a big 

 fluffy nest, entirely filling the oven. 



Yet, in spite of the abundant sign of game, we at first 

 suffered under one of those spells of ill-luck which at times 

 befall all hunters, and for several days we could kill noth- 

 ing, though we tried hard, being in need of fresh meat. 

 The moon was full each evening, sitting on the ranch 

 verandah, or walking homeward, we watched it rise over 

 the line of bluffs beyond the river and the deer were feed- 

 ing at night ; moreover in such hot weather they lie very 

 close, move as little as possible, and are most difficult to 

 find. Twice we lay out from dusk until dawn, in spite of 

 the mosquitoes, but saw nothing ; and the chances we did 

 get we failed to profit by. 



One morning, instead of trudging out to hunt I stayed 

 at home, and sat in a rocking-chair on the verandah read- 



