354 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



had seized upon the oil in the locks, and frozen them tight ! 

 The same thing, or nearly so, had happened to Bronson's weapon 

 — the tumbler refusing to hold the lock at full-cock, and hence 

 the explosion. Hence, too, that fat deer bounded off into the 

 distance ; and surely two sadder men than Bronson and self 

 never trudged home to bacon and bread. 



But we " got it all back," as the Western phrase goes, the 

 next day — Christmas Eve. Breakfasting at daylight, we saddled 

 up immediately afterwards, wrapped a warm piece of blanket 

 round our rifle-locks, and set off once more, with desperate 

 resolve to return not without that acme of luxury, fresh meat. 

 Beward came sooner and in better shape than our most boisterous 

 hopes could have suggested. 



For half a mile we jogged the bed of the cooly (another name 

 for the usually dry watercourses of the country) ; then emerged 

 on to a stretch of open grass, which had served us for meadow 

 during the hay season. 



It is needless to say that ranchemen in the habit of searching 

 stock do not go about with their eyes shut. When their eye- 

 sight, as in our case, is sharpened by a craving for food, you 

 may "bet" — again to borrow their parlance — that any living 

 thing to escape their view must be not only very small, but 

 still. 



A mile away there was a something — a big animal plainly 

 feeding — a steer, probably. Up went its head as the glasses 

 were brought to bear, and the long arched neck, even at that 

 distance through the thick frosty air, surely proclaimed a deer. 

 That it loomed so big was surely due to the foggy atmosphere. 

 A deer of some kind it certainly was ; and we snapped our 

 glasses and smacked our lips in premature enjoyment of the 

 Christmas dinner in store. As luck would have it (and luck 

 was all through in our favour to-day) the ravine in its course 

 led right up to where the game was working its food from out 

 the snow, and the wind was right, too. So, following the creek 

 bottom, we kept the saddle for three parts of the journey, and 

 then descended for a stalk. Tieing each pony with his head 



