358 



FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



I bore down to the creek bottom with all the speed I could 

 muster. There was the fresh and bloodstained trail plain 

 enough — three heavy footmarks and a dragging limb. Poor 

 brute ! humanity as well as hunger called for her speedy death. 

 The creek bed had been trodden tolerably level beneath the 

 snow by wandering cattle ; and rousing by means of a sharp 

 blow or two what little fire remained in Smoke, I hurried along 

 at a good hand-gallop still. Another mile, perhaps, and 

 suddenly we reached not only again a junction-point of the 

 creek's many tributaries ; but, to make matters five times 

 worse, that number of head of cattle had joined and confused 

 the trail. It was just the toss of a coin this time; " whether left 

 should be right, and right should be wrong, or t'other way." 

 To cease galloping might be to lose the elk ; but it was im- 



possible, without stopping, to determine which might be hers 

 among the various cloven hoof-marks leading in either direc- 

 tion. So, speculating boldly, I struck to the right at the best 

 speed still at Smoke's disposal, and, soon afterwards, was 



