380 The Wilderness Hunter. 



lope roundabout, yielding good sport to any rifleman, but 

 this exile cared nothing for them ; they were not roebucks, 

 and they could not be chased with his beloved dachshunds. 

 So, among my neighbors in the cattle country, is a gentle- 

 man from France, a very successful ranchman, and a thor- 

 oughly good fellow ; he cares nothing for hunting big 

 game, and will not go after it, but is devoted to shooting 

 cotton-tails in the snow, this being a pastime having much 

 resemblance to one of the recognized sports of his own 

 land. 



However, our own people afford precisely similar in- 

 stances. I have met plenty of men accustomed to killing 

 wild tui keys and deer with small-bore rifles in the southern 

 forests who, when they got on the plains and in the Rock- 

 ies, were absolutely helpless. They not only failed to 

 become proficient in the art of killing big game at long 

 ranges with the large-bore rifle, at the cost of fatiguing 

 tramps, but they had a positive distaste for the sport and 

 would never allow that it equalled their own stealthy hunts 

 in eastern forests. So I know plenty of men, experts with 

 the shotgun, who honestly prefer shooting quail in the 

 East over well-trained setters or pointers, to the hardier, 

 manlier sports of the wilderness. 



As it is with hunting, so it is with riding. The cow- 

 boy's scorn of every method of riding save his own is as 

 profound and as ignorant as is that of the school rider, 

 jockey, or fox-hunter. The truth is that each of these is 

 best in his own sphere and is at a disadvantage when made 

 to do the work of any of the others. For all-around rid- 

 ing and horsemanship, I think the West Point graduate is 



