112 



The Wilderness Hunter. 



For a couple of days we jogged up the valley of the 

 Big Hole River, along the mail road. At night we camped 

 under our wagon. At the mouth of the stream the valley 

 was a mere gorge, but it broadened steadily the farther 

 up we went, till the rapid river wound through a wide 

 expanse of hilly, treeless prairie. On each side the moun- 

 tains rose, their lower flanks and the foot-hills covered 

 with the evergreen forest. We got milk and bread at the 

 scattered log-houses of the few settlers ; and for meat we 

 shot sage fowl, which abounded. They were feeding on 

 grasshoppers at this time, and the flesh, especially of the 

 young birds, was as tender and well tasting as possible ; 

 whereas, when we again passed through the valley in 

 September, we found the birds almost uneatable, being 

 fairly bitter with sage. Like all grouse they are far tamer 

 earlier in the season than later, being very wild in winter ; 

 and, of course, they are boldest where they are least 

 hunted ; but for some unexplained reason they are always 

 tamer than the sharp-tail prairie fowl which are to be 

 found in the same locality. 



Finally we reached the neighborhood of the Bartle 

 Ground, where a rude stone monument commemorates the 

 bloody drawn fight between General Gibbons' soldiers and 

 the Nez Percys warriors of Chief Joseph. Here, on the 

 third day of our journey, we left the beaten road and 

 turned towards the mountains, following an indistinct trail 

 made by wood-choppers. We met with our full share of 

 the usual mishaps incident to prairie travel ; and towards 

 evening our team got mired in crossing a slough. We 

 attempted the crossing with some misgivings, which were 



