I4 2 RANCH LIFE AND THE HUNTING-TRAIL 



Not only will a big black-tail buck beat off a dog or a wolf coming at him 

 in front, but he is an awkward foe for a man. One of them nearly killed a 

 cowboy in my employ. The buck, mortally wounded, had fallen to the shot, 

 and the man rushed up to stick him ; then the buck revived for a moment, 

 struck down the man, and endeavored to gore him, but could not, because 

 of the despairing grip with which the man held on to his horns. Never- 

 theless the man, bruised and cut by the sharp hoofs, was fast becoming too 

 weak to keep his hold, when in the struggle they came to the edge of a 

 washout, and fell into it some twelve or fifteen feet. This separated them. 

 The dying buck was too weak to renew the attack, and the man crawled 

 off; but it was months before he got over the effects of the encounter. 



Sometimes we kill the white-tail also by fair still-hunting, but more 

 often we shoot them on the dense river bottoms by the help of the track- 

 hound. We put the dogs into the woods with perhaps a single horseman 

 to guide them and help them rout out the deer, while the rest of us, rifle 

 in hand, ride from point to point outside, or else watch the passes through 

 which the hunted animals are likely to run. It is not a sport of which I 

 am very fond, but it is sometimes pleasant as a variety. The last time 

 that we tried it I killed a buck in the bottom right below our ranch house, 

 not half a mile off. The river was low, and my post was at its edge, with 

 in front of me the broad sandy flat sparsely covered with willow-brush. 

 Deer are not much afraid of an ordinary noisy hound ; they will play round 

 in front of him, head and flag in air; but with Rob it was different. The 

 gray, wolfish beast, swift and silent, threw them into a panic of terror, and 

 in headlong flight they would seek safety from him in the densest thicket. 



On the evening in question one of my cowboys went into the brush 

 with the hounds. I had hardly ridden to my place and dismounted when 

 I heard old Brandy give tongue, the bluffs echoing back his long-drawn 

 baying. Immediately afterwards a young buck appeared, coming along 

 the sandy river-bed, trotting or cantering; and very handsome he looked, 

 stepping with a light, high action, his glossy coat glistening, his head 

 thrown back, his white flag flaunting. My bullet struck him too far 

 back, and he went on, turning into the woods. Then the dogs appeared, 

 old Brandy running the scent, while the eager gaze-hound made wide 

 half-circles round him as he ran ; while the cowboy, riding a vicious 

 yellow mustang, galloped behind, cheering them on. As they struck the 

 bloody trail they broke into clamorous yelling, and tore at full speed into 

 the woods. A minute or two later the sound ceased, and I knew that they 

 had run into the quarry. 



Sometimes we use the hounds for other game besides deer. A neigh- 



