i8o CANADIAN NIGHTS 



into scenes of most picturesque beauty. The 

 speckled trout allures him to lake and stream ; in 

 pursuit of deer, he wanders through many a se- 

 cluded valley, amid scenes of soft beauty, which 

 otherwise he might never see. To find the " big- 

 horn " he scales giddy precipices, and climbs to 

 soaring peaks, and confronts nature face to face in 

 her grandest, most terrific moods. He is with 

 nature always, whether on foot, on horseback, or 

 in his birch-bark canoe. 



Walking in the midst of such lovely scenery, and 

 watching the day break in such infinite splendour, 

 I must confess that I became somewhat careless as 

 to my hunting, and stumbled right on top of a 

 little band of sheep, feeding on the level ground, 

 before I was aware of their presence. In fact I 

 did not see them until they started. I fired, but 

 without any effect, and set the hound, poor old 

 Plunk, after them. 



They had got too good a start, and he could not 

 come near them, but after a while I noticed a little 

 sheep lagging behind. Thinking Plunk might over- 

 take it, I started off best pace after him. It is 

 no joke running over rough ground at an ele- 

 vation of some 8000 feet on a blazing hot July 

 morning in Colorado, and I puffed and blew 



