134 ON SNOW-SHOES TO THE BARREN GROUNDS 



I was so stunned by the sudden turn of affairs, and so 

 exasperated at the Indians, that I was sorely tempted to 

 empty the magazine of my rifle into them. I knew I 

 could not possibly have scored ; I felt sure Munn had 

 not, but hoped against hope that he might have got his 

 gun up for a sight. I did not think the Indians had, for 

 they can hardly hit a barn door a hundred yards off. If I 

 thought at all of their scoring, it was that we might have 

 meat, which we needed, but even that, I am sure, did not 

 enter into consideration. 



The one miserable thought that we had lost what had 

 been a good chance of getting a bison head was upper- 

 most, for this herd would run for days, and entirely be- 

 yond our reach. Simultaneously with the shooting, the 

 heifer disappeared, and we ran to the top of the knoll in 

 hopes of a shot at the flying herd, but not a hoof was 

 in sight, so rapid had been their flight, although the ridge 

 opened to view three hundred yards away. 



We discovered a few small drops of blood where the 

 heifer had stood, counted the beds of eleven cows, and 

 noted the snow beaten down into paths leading towards 

 the end of ridge and muskeg to the right; and then began 

 a mad race along the faint trail of blood, in hopes that 

 the heifer might have been more badly wounded than the 

 blood showed, and turned aside (as is their custom when 

 hard hit) from the fleeing herd. But we had only a hard 

 run in the deep snow as recompense. 



And then we returned to our sledge and sat down in 

 silence, and with the bitter realization that the bison-hunt 

 was at an end. We did not say much, Munn and I ; 

 words could not do our feelings justice. There is hunters' 

 luck, and only the sportsman who has sought big game, 

 and experienced its operations for and against him, can 

 sound the depths of our disappointment. To have got 



