30 HUNTING THE GRISLY. 



old hunter bent over it with a sharp excla- 

 mation of wonder. There in the dust were 

 the unmistakable hoof-marks of a small band 

 of bison, apparently but a few hours old. They 

 were headed towards the lake. There had 

 been a half a dozen animals in the party ; one 

 a big bull, and two calves. 



We immediately turned and followed the 

 trail. It led down to the little lake, where 

 the beasts had spread and grazed on the ten- 

 der, green blades, and had drunk their fill. 

 The footprints then came together again, 

 showing where the animals had gathered and 

 walked off in single file to the forest. Evi- 

 dently they had come to the pool in the early 

 morning, walking over the game pass from 

 some neighboring valley, and after drinking 

 and feeding had moved into the pine forest to 

 find some spot for their noontide rest. 



It was a very still day, and there were nearly 

 three hours of daylight left. Without a word 

 my silent companion, who had 1 een scanning 

 the whole country with hawk-eyed eagerness, 

 besides scrutinizing the sign on his hands and 

 knees, took the trail, motioning me to follow. 

 In a moment we entered the woods, breathing 

 a sigh of relief as we did so ; for while in the 

 meadow we could never tell that the buffalo 

 might not see us, if they happened to be lying 

 in some place with a commanding lookout. 



The old hunter was thoroughly roused, and 

 he showed himself a very skilful tracker. We 

 were much favored by the character of the 

 forest, which was rather open, and in most 



