72 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



of the wastes were moving by and marshal- 

 ling their silent forces. No man save the 

 wilderness dweller knows the strong melan- 

 choly fascination of these long rides through 

 lonely lands. 



At noon, that the horses might graze and 

 drink, I halted where some box-alders grew 

 by a pool in the bed of a half-dry creek ; and 

 shifted my saddle to a fresh beast. When we 

 started again we came out on the rolling 

 prairie, where the green sea of wind-rippled 

 grass stretched limitless as far as the eye 

 could reach. Little striped gophers scuttled 

 away, or stood perfectly straight at the 

 mouths of their burrows, looking like picket 

 pins. Curlews clamored mournfully as they 

 circled overhead. Prairie fowl swept off, 

 clucking and calling, or strutted about with 

 their sharp tails erect. Antelope were very 

 plentiful, running like race-horses across the 

 level, or uttering their queer, barking grunt as 

 they stood at gaze, the white hairs on their 

 rumps all on end, their neck bands of broken 

 brown and white vivid in the sunlight. They 

 were found singly or in small straggling 

 parties ; the master bucks had not yet begun 

 to drive out the younger and weaker ones as 

 later in the season, when each would gather 

 into a herd as many does as his jealous 

 strength could guard from rivals. The nurs- 

 ing does whose kids had come early were 

 often found with the bands ; the others kept 

 apart. The kids were very conspicuous 

 figures on the prairies, across which they 

 scudded like jack rabbits, showing nearly as 

 much speed and alertness as their parents ; 



