170 AN AMERICAN HUNTER 



ing from one spring pool to another, eating the pasturage 

 bare, while the shepherds whom we met wild-looking 

 men on rough horses, each accompanied by a pair of fur- 

 tive sheep dogs had taken every opportunity to get a 

 shot at antelope, so as to provide themselves with fresh 

 meat. Two days of fruitless hunting in this sheep-ridden 

 region was sufficient to show that the antelope were too 

 scarce and shy to give us hope for sport, and we shifted 

 quarters, a long day's journey, to the head of another 

 creek; and we had to go to yet another before we found 

 much game. As so often happens on such a trip, when 

 we started to have bad luck we had plenty. One night 

 two of the three saddle horses stampeded and went 

 straight as the crow flies back to the home range, so that 

 we did not get them until on our return from the trip. 

 On another occasion the team succeeded in breaking the 

 wagon pole; and as there was an entire absence of wood 

 where we were at the time, we had to make a splice for 

 it with the two tent poles and the picket ropes. Never- 

 theless, it was very enjoyable out on the great grassy 

 plains. Although we had a tent with us, I always slept 

 in the open in my buffalo bag, with the tarpaulin to pull 

 over me if it rained. On each night before going to sleep, 

 I lay for many minutes gazing at the stars above, or 

 watching the rising of the red moon, which was just at 

 or past the full. 



We had plenty of fresh meat prairie fowl and young 

 sage fowl at first, and antelope venison afterward. We 

 camped by little pools, generally getting fair water; and 

 from the camps where there was plenty of wood we took 



