HUNTING IN CATTLE COUNTRY 171 



enough to build the fires at those where there was none. 

 The nights were frosty, and the days cool and pleasant, 

 and from sunrise to sunset we were off riding or walking 

 among the low hills and over the uplands, so that we slept 

 well and ate well, and felt the beat of hardy life in our 

 veins. 



Much of the time we were on a high divide between 

 two creek systems, from which we could see the great 

 landmarks of all the regions roundabout, Sentinel Butte, 

 Square Butte and Middle Butte, far to the north and 

 east of us. Nothing could be more lonely and nothing 

 more beautiful than the view at nightfall across the 

 prairies to these huge hill masses, when the lengthening 

 shadows had at last merged into one and the faint after- 

 glow of the red sunset filled the west. The endless waves 

 of rolling prairie, sweeping, vast and dim, to the feet of 

 the great hills, grew purple as the evening darkened, and 

 the buttes loomed into vague, mysterious beauty as their 

 sharp outlines softened in the twilight. 



Even when we got out of reach of the sheep men we 

 never found antelope very plentiful, and they were shy, 

 and the country was flat, so that the stalking was ex- 

 tremely difficult; yet I had pretty good sport. The first 

 animal I killed was a doe, shot for meat, because I had 

 twice failed to get bucks at which I emptied my maga- 

 zine at long range, and we were all feeling hungry for 

 venison. After that I killed nothing but bucks. Of the 

 five antelope killed, one I got by a headlong gallop to 

 cut off his line of flight. As sometimes happens with this 

 queer, erratic animal, when the buck saw that I was 



