ON THE PRAIRIE 193 



choly pine forests, now treading the brink 

 of high, rocky precipices, always amid the 

 most grand and beautiful scenery; and al- 

 ways after as noble and lordly game as 

 be found in the Western world. 



Since writing the above I killed an elk near 

 my ranch ; probably the last of his race that 

 will ever be found in our neighborhood. It 

 was just before the fall round-up. An old 

 hunter, who was under some obligation to 

 me, told me that he had shot a cow elk and 

 had seen the tracks of one or two others not 

 more than twenty-five miles off, in a place 

 where the cattle rarely wandered. Such a 

 chance was not to be neglected ; and, on the 

 first free day, one of my Elk-horn foremen, 

 Will Dow by name, and myself, took our 

 hunting horses and started off, accompanied 

 by the ranch wagon, in the direction of the 

 probable haunts of the doomed deer. To- 

 wards nightfall we struck a deep spring pool, 

 near by the remains of an old Indian encamp- 

 ment. It was at the head of a great basin, 

 several miles across, in which we believed 



