Expedition to the Bad Lands 69 



found beds four feet thick along the canyons. All 

 one had to do was to drive up to the face of the 

 cliff and load a wagon in a few minutes. 



As soon as the first streak of daylight appeared, 

 we breakfasted and were off, our picks tied to our 

 saddles, our collecting-bags dangling from the pom- 

 mels, and a lunch of cold bacon and hardtack in 

 our saddle-bags. 



I usually rode beside the Professor, my mount 

 a treacherous black mustang, who was ever on the 

 watch to regain his liberty. A curb bit that almost 

 tore his mouth to pieces was my only means of re- 

 straining him. My right ear being totally deaf, I 

 usually rode at the Professor's right, when the trail 

 would admit of our traveling abreast. He was not 

 always in a talkative mood, but when he began to 

 speak of the wonderful animals of this earth, those 

 of long ago and those of to-day, so absorbed did he 

 become in his subject that he talked on as if to him- 

 self, looking straight ahead and rarely turning to- 

 ward me, while I listened entranced. 



Not so that wicked black mustang of mine. Sud- 

 denly his front feet would leave the ground, and he 

 would stand up at full length on his hind legs. 

 Then feeling the gouging of the Spanish bit, he 

 would drop and run ahead to the Professor's left 

 side. When the Professor, happening to look up, 

 found the place where I had been vacant, he would 



