1 84 CANADIAN NIGHTS 



was riding behind when I heard Plunk barking 

 furiously, and on galloping up found the cavalcade 

 halted at a little distance, Plunk halfway up one of 

 the masses of detached rock, barking vigorously, and 

 every now and then making plunges towards a fine 

 old patriarchal ram who stood on the top of the 

 rock, and who, with feet placed closed together and 

 head stooped, followed every movement of the dog, 

 presenting his massive horns to him at every point 

 of attack. It was a very pretty sight. In front lay 

 a green grass-covered plain bounded by the little 

 lake, vividly blue and sparkling under a summer 

 breeze and the bright sun that shone on the white 

 alkali that fringed its shores. On the far side of it 

 the mountain rose, covered to the right with a thick 

 growth of green young pine timber, but on the left 

 burned and bare, and terminating in the great crags 

 and cliffs of sheep mountain. In the foreground, 

 piercing the green plain, rose a mass of red sand- 

 stone crowned with the massive and stately form of 

 the defiant ram, while the huge dun-coloured hound, 

 bristling with rage, furiously bayed and rushed at 

 him from below. The people at the ranch had 

 roast mutton for dinner that night, and we had 

 mutton chops for tea on Long's Peak. That was 

 the only time I ever killed a sheep with a hound, 



