IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. 97 



right bank perhaps 200 yards, watching both banks closely, 

 when I saw his trail emerge and lead out on the opposite 

 side. I waded the stream, whose icy waters almost paralyzed 

 my limbs, took up the trail which wound through the brush, 

 first up and then down the stream, until, finding that I was 

 still following, he started directly up the opposite wall of the 

 canyon. 



But here he began to show unmistakable signs of weaken- 

 ing. In making this ascent he would stop every few rods, 

 and would frequently lie down. He made frequent doubles 

 on his trail, by which he evidently hoped to elude me ; but, 

 though these clever ruses often succeed with a hound, who 

 runs entirely by scent, they did not trouble me in the least, as 

 I could readily see in every case where he had broken off on 

 the return ; so that I could take up the trail here and save all 

 the distance he had traveled on the double. This gave me a 

 decided advantage, for it enabled me to press him all the harder. 



The wall which we were now ascending was as steep, 

 rugged and difficult as the one which we had just descended, 

 and though climbing up was much harder work for me than 

 jumping and sliding down, I consoled myself with the 

 reflection that it was also much harder for my antlered fugi- 

 tive. An hour of this toil landed me again on top of the 

 south wall. Here was a wide plateau partly covered with 

 pine timber, the remainder with sage brush. Over this the 

 frightened and now weary stag circled, doubled, crossed and 

 recrossed, trying, but still in vain, to mislead me. He moves 

 now almost altogether in a walk. Occasionally, when I 

 approach closely, he takes fresh alarm and makes a few 

 spasmodic bounds, but he is too far exhausted to continue 

 them, and soon relapses again into a slow, dragging walk, 

 keeping just far enough ahead of me all the time to be out of 

 sight. 



