ON THE PRAIRIE 217 



reached the place. A grizzly had evidently 

 been at the carcass during the preceding 

 night, for his great footprints were in the 

 ground all around it, and the carcass itself 

 was gnawed and torn, and partially covered 

 with earth and leaves for the grizzly has a 

 curious habit of burying all of his prey that 

 he does not at the moment need. A great 

 many ravens had been feeding on the body, 

 and they wheeled about over the tree tops 

 above us, uttering their barking croaks. 



The forest was composed mainly of what 

 are called ridge-pole pines, which grow close 

 together, and do not branch out until the 

 stems are thirty or forty feet from the 

 ground. Beneath these trees we walked 

 over a carpet of pine needles, upon which our 

 moccasined feet made no sound. The woods 

 seemed vast and lonely, and their silence 

 was broken now and then by the strange 

 noises always to be heard in the great for- 

 ests, and which seem to mark the sad and 

 everlasting unrest of the wilderness. We 

 climbed up along the trunk of a dead tree 



