1 82 AN AMERICAN HUNTER 



One evening Lambert and I hunted nearly to the head 

 of one of the creeks which opened close to our camp, and, 

 in turning to descend what we thought was one of the 

 side coulees leading into it, we contrived to get over the 

 divide into the coulees of an entirely different creek sys- 

 tem, and did not discover our error until it was too late 

 to remedy it. We struck the river about nightfall, and 

 were not quite sure where, and had six miles' tramp in 

 the dark along the sandy river bed and through the dense 

 timber bottoms, wading the stream a dozen times before 

 we finally struck camp, tired and hungry, and able to ap- 

 preciate to the full the stew of hot venison and potatoes, 

 and afterward the comfort of our buffalo and caribou 

 hide sleeping-bags. The next morning the Sheriff's re- 

 mark of " Look alive, you fellows, if you want any break- 

 fast," awoke the other members of the party shortly after 

 dawn. It was bitterly cold as we scrambled out of our 

 bedding, and, after a hasty wash, huddled around the fire, 

 where the venison was sizzling and the coffee-pot boiling, 

 while the bread was kept warm in the Dutch oven. 

 About a third of a mile away to the west the bluffs, which 

 rose abruptly from the river bottom, were crowned by 

 a high plateau, where the grass was so good that over- 

 night the horses had been led up and picketed on it, and 

 the man who had led them up had stated the previous 

 evening that he had seen what he took to be fresh foot- 

 prints of a mountain sheep crossing the surface of a bluff 

 fronting our camp. From the footprints it appeared that 

 the animal had been there since the camp was pitched. 

 The face of the bluff on this side was very sheer, the path 



