202 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES 



ains, in Northern Montana, with S. K. Fishel, the 

 government scout, and Richard Thomas, the packer, 

 from Fort Maginnis. We had not been successful in 

 rinding game there, and on our way back to the post 

 camped two days on the head of Flat Willow creek, 

 near the foot of the mountains, to hunt antelopes. 

 As night approached several small bands of them 

 came toward the creek, but none came within range 

 of oar camp during daylight, and we did not go 

 after them that night, but were up and at them 

 betimes the next morning. 



I preferred to hunt alone, as I always do when 

 after big game, and went out across a level flat to 

 some low hills north of camp. When I ascended 

 the first of these I saw a handsome buck antelope 

 on the prairie half a mile away. I made a long 

 detour to get to leeward of him, and meantime had 

 great difficulty in keeping him from seeing me. But 

 by careful maneuvering I finally got into a draw 

 below him, and found the wind blowing directly 

 from him to me. In his neighborhood were some 

 large, ragged volcanic rocks, and getting in line 

 with one of these I started to stalk him. He was 

 feeding, and as I moved cautiously forward I could 

 frequently see his nose or rump show up at one side 

 or the other of the rock. I would accordingly glide 

 to right or left, as necessary, and move on. Finally, 

 I succeeded in reaching the rock, crawled carefully 

 up to where I could see over it, and there, sure 

 enough, stood the handsome old fellow not more 

 than fifty yards away, still complacently nipping 

 the bunch-grass. 



"Ah, my fine laddie," I said to myself, " you'll 



