OUR CAMP ON WALNUT CREEK 



that would intercept them and prepared to await 

 my game. The place I had chosen to wait for 

 them was an old buffalo crossing, the converging 

 trails, deeply worn in the banks on either side, 

 showing that it was much used. They would have 

 to pass me here, and, again recrossing the creek 

 to the north side, I rode down into the timber, 

 tied my horse behind some bushes, and returned 

 afoot to the crossing, being careful not to give the 

 buffalo my wind. 



Soon they passed me, went on down, drank, and 

 climbed the hills on the other side of the stream. 

 As the young cattle filed past me I selected a 

 yearling and, as he came opposite, shot him, and 

 he dropped dead in the trail. The rest gave a 

 jump or two and went on. I cut off the hind quar- 

 ters and with some trouble put them on Prince. 



Then stripping back the skin from the fore 

 quarters, I applied my solution of strychnine, a 

 few drops here and there over the meat and en- 

 trails, and left them for wolf bait. 



Having left my meat at camp, I rode away on 

 my scout, reaching camp again about sunset. 



Just after we finished supper the howling of 

 a pack of coyotes — which we seldom noticed — 

 prompted me to exclaim: 



"Make the most of your time, my lads, for if 

 you happen to scent that bait I put out for you 

 I'll be skinning some of you in the morning." 



The howling and barking of wolves was such 



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