276 AN AMERICAN HUNTER 



no season of the year when the country is not more at- 

 tractive than the city; and there is no portion of the wil- 

 derness, where game is found, in which it is not a keen 

 pleasure to hunt. Perhaps no other kind of country 

 quite equals that where snow lies on the lofty mountain 

 peaks, where there are many open glades in the pine for- 

 ests, and clear mountain lakes and rushing trout-filled 

 torrents. But the fantastic desolation of the Bad Lands, 

 and the endless sweep of the brown prairies, alike have 

 their fascination for the true lover of nature and lover 

 of the wilderness who goes through them on foot or on 

 horseback. As for the broken hill-country in which I 

 followed the wapiti and the mule-deer along the Little 

 Missouri, it would be strange indeed if any one found 

 it otherwise than attractive in the bright, sharp fall 

 weather. Long, grassy valleys wound among the boldly 

 shaped hills. The basins were filled with wind-beaten 

 trees and brush, which generally also ran alongside of the 

 dry watercourses down the middle of each valley. Cedars 

 clustered in the sheer ravines, and here and there groups 

 of elm and ash grew to a considerable height in the more 

 sheltered places. At the first touch of the frost the foliage 

 turned russet or yellow the Virginia creepers crimson. 

 Under the cloudless blue sky the air was fresh and cool, 

 and as we lay by the camp-fire at night the stars shone 

 with extraordinary brilliancy. Under such conditions 

 the actual chase of the wapiti was much like that of the 

 mule-deer. They had been so hunted that they showed 

 none of the foolish traits which they are prone to exhibit 

 when bands are found in regions where they have been 



