8o The Wilderness Hunter. 



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 whinneying 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 kind of frontier building 

 always warm in winter. After turning my horse into the 

 rough log stable with the horses of the two cowboys, I 

 joined the latter at supper inside the dugout ; being re- 

 ceived of course with hearty cordiality. After the intense 

 cold outside the warmth within was almost oppressive, for 

 the fire was roaring in the big stone fireplace. The bunks 

 were broad ; my two friends turned into one, and I was 

 given the other, with plenty of bedding ; so that my sleep 

 was sound. 



We had breakfasted and saddled our horses and were 

 off by dawn next morning. My companions, muf- 

 fled in furs, started in opposite directions to ride their 

 lonely beats, while I steered for my hunting-ground. It 

 was a lowering and gloomy day ; at sunrise pale, lurid 

 sundogs hung in the glimmering mist ; gusts of wind 

 moaned through the ravines. 



At last I reached a row of bleak hills, and from a 

 ridge looked cautiously down on the chain of plateaus, 

 where I had been told I should see the antelope. Sure 

 enough, there they were, to the number of several hun- 

 dred, scattered over the level snow-streaked surface of the 

 nearest and largest plateau, greedily cropping the thick, 

 short grass. Leaving my horse tied in a hollow I speedily 



