86 RANCH LIFE AND THE HUNTING-TRAIL 



The fourth member of our party round the camp-fire that night was a 

 powerfully built trapper, partly French by blood, who wore a gayly col- 

 ored capote, or blanket-coat, a greasy fur cap, and moccasins. He had 

 grizzled hair, and a certain uneasy, half-furtive look about the eyes. 

 Once or twice he showed a curious reluctance about allowing a man to 

 approach him suddenly from behind. Altogether his actions were so odd 

 that I felt some curiosity to learn his history. It turned out that he had 

 been through a rather uncanny experience the winter before. He and 

 another man had gone into a remote basin, or inclosed valley, in the 

 heart of the mountains, where game was very plentiful ; indeed, it was so 

 abundant that they decided to pass the winter there. Accordingly they 

 put up a log-cabin, working hard, and merely killing enough meat for 

 their immediate use. Just as it was finished winter set in with tremen- 

 dous snow-storms. Going out to hunt, in the first lull, they found, to their 

 consternation, that every head of game had left the valley. Not an ani- 

 mal was to be found therein ; they had abandoned it for their winter 

 haunts. The outlook for the two adventurers was appalling. They were 

 afraid of trying to break out through the deep snow-drifts, and starvation 

 stared them in the face if they staid. The man I met had his dog with 

 him. They put themselves on very short commons, so as to use up their 

 flour as slowly as possible, and hunted unweariedly, but saw nothing. 

 Soon a violent quarrel broke out between them. The other man, a fierce, 

 sullen fellow, insisted that the dog should be killed, but the owner was 

 exceedingly attached to it, and refused. For a couple of weeks they spoke 

 no word to each other, though cooped in the little narrow pen of logs. 

 Then one night the owner of the dog was wakened by the animal crying 

 out; the other man had tried to kill it with his knife, but failed. The pro- 

 visions were now almost exhausted, and the two men were glaring at each 

 other with the rage of maddened, ravening hunger. Neither dared to sleep, 

 for fear that the other would kill him. Then the one who owned the dog 

 at last spoke, and proposed that, to give each a chance for his life, they 

 should separate. He would take half of the handful of flour that was left 

 and start off to try to get home ; the other should stay where he was; and 

 if he tried to follow the first, he was warned that he would be shot without 

 mercy. A like fate was to be the portion of the wanderer if driven to 

 return to the hut. The arrangement was agreed to and the two men 

 separated, neither daring to turn his back while they were within rifle- 

 shot of each other. For two days the one who went off toiled on with 

 weary weakness through the snow-drifts. Late on the second afternoon, 

 as he looked back from a high ridge, he saw in the far distance a black 



