n6 RANCH LIFE AND THE HUNTING-TRAIL 



and bacon enough to last us a fortnight or so, plenty of warm bedding, and 

 the mess kit; and early one cold March morning slid it into the icy 

 current, took our seats, and shoved off down the river. 



There could have been no better men for a trip of this kind than my 

 two companions, Seawall and Dow. They were tough, hardy, resolute 

 fellows, quick as cats, strong as bears, and able to travel like bull moose. 

 We felt very little uneasiness as to the result of a fight with the men we 

 were after, provided we had anything like a fair show ; moreover, we 

 intended, if possible, to get them at such a disadvantage that there would 

 not be any fight at all. The only risk of any consequence that we ran was 

 that of being ambushed ; for the extraordinary formation of the Bad Lands, 

 with the ground cut up into gullies, serried walls, and battlemented hill- 

 tops, makes it the country of all others for hiding-places and ambuscades. 



For several days before we started the weather had been bitterly cold, 

 as a furious blizzard was blowing ; but on the day we left there was a lull, 

 and we hoped a thaw had set in. We all were most warmly and thickly 

 dressed, with woolen socks and underclothes, heavy jackets and trousers, 

 and great fur coats, so that we felt we could bid defiance to the weather. 

 Each carried his rifle, and we had in addition a double-barreled duck gun, 

 for water-fowl and beaver. To manage the boat, we had paddles, heavy 

 oars, and long iron-shod poles, Seawall steering while Dow sat in the 

 bow. Altogether we felt as if we were off on a holiday trip, and set to 

 work to have as good a time as possible. 



The river twisted in every direction, winding to and fro across the 

 alluvial valley bottom, only to be brought up by the rows of great barren 

 buttes that bounded it on each edge. It had worn away the sides of these 

 till they towered up as cliffs of clay, marl, or sandstone. Across their 

 white faces the seams of coal drew sharp black bands, and they were else- 

 where blotched and varied with brown, yellow, purple, and red. This 

 fantastic coloring, together with the jagged irregularity of their crests, 

 channeled by the weather into spires, buttresses, and battlements, as well 

 as their barreness and the distinctness with which they loomed up through 

 the high, dry air, gave them a look that was a singular mixture of the 

 terrible and the grotesque. The bottoms were covered thickly with leaf- 

 less cottonwood trees, or else with withered brown grass and stunted, 

 sprawling sage bushes. At times the cliffs rose close to us on either hand, 

 and again the valley would widen into a sinuous oval a mile or two long, 

 bounded on every side, as far as our eyes could see, by a bluff line with- 

 out a break, until, as we floated down close to its other end, there would 

 suddenly appear in one corner a cleft through which the stream rushed 

 out. As it grew dusk the shadowy outlines of the buttes lost nothing of 



