PRAIRIE LIFE. 



419 



yet adorn the larder. As they turned a corner and were 

 hid to view, I had the spurs into Smoke, and reached the point 

 ere they should have gone barely a hundred yards beyond. 

 Peeping quietly round the rocks — there they were, already 

 grazing and apparently undisturbed. The three pairs of long 

 ears went up, however, as Smoke walked into view — rider 

 I laving meanwhile slipped down on the near side, saddle-rope 

 in hand. Deer seldom mind a riderless horse : so Smoke and 

 they stood calmly gazing at each other while I crawled to the 

 end of the thirty-foot rope and carefully appraised the deer- 

 meat (no, sir, not venison. There is no such word in Western 

 phraseology.) An old family doe. She won't do, for reasons 



heavy and obvious. The big buck is a fine fellow — tough 

 probably, and with his horns in velvet of course. The third is 

 verily a " Little Billee, young and tender. Little Billee. Yes, 

 let's eat he." And a downhill shot took the yearling between 

 the shoulder blades, and handsomely made meat of him. I 

 felt like a man who has committed charity — and that charity 

 the best of all, for it began at home, where six bacon-fed and 

 blood-thirsty mortals awaited my return. 



E E 2 



