THE MULE DEER. 169 



had bled and drawn her, the light was gone; I tied my 

 handkerchief to one ear, as a precaution against the coyotes, 

 and left her till morning. 



The smoke of my camp-fire, with a yet flickering flame; 

 the dim outline of my tent, with its little streamer at the 

 top; old George at his picket-stake, munching at the bunch- 

 grass, were pleasant, home-like signs in the gloaming as I 

 came near. The lighted candle inside, and blazing lire out- 

 side for a cup of tea, made it still more like home; yet I 

 was twelve miles from the ranch, and six miles from the 

 nearest human being. In contrast with the wild, weird 

 mountains, with their gloomy shadows and moaning pines, 

 and darkness coining thickly down on all, the blaze and the 

 light were cheer and assurance, and seemed almost a human 

 welcome back. There was chaos and darkness till the 

 primal order came, " Let there be light! " 



And now come my last day in camp, and my last Deer. 

 The season has advanced till the ground is stiff, mornings, 

 and often covered with snow. I feel that my part is played, 

 and it is time to get back to companionship and the appli- 

 ances of comfort and rest in a more thorough shelter and 

 larger comforts of a settled home. I have worked up the 

 big canon pretty thoroughly, and do not wish to hunt more 

 there. I have noticed signs of Deer passing westerly, 

 though there are no woods in sight; all in that direction 

 seems bald, bare mountain-top and foot-hill. 



But nothing can be more deceptive than the surface of 

 this whole volcanic region of the Blue Mountains. You 

 may start for a tramp or a ride ahead, where all looks open 

 and rolling as a prairie. In half a mile, you come suddenly 

 into a vast canon, five hundred feet deep forest-clothed on 

 the sides to the very bottom, and intersected by other 

 canons in all directions, of dimensions almost as great as 

 its own. These are unfailing resorts for Elk and our pres- 

 ent Deer, who find abundance of the food they love, abun- 

 dant shelter from danger, the steep and rocky glens and 

 hill-sides that are their delight, with always the pure, cold 

 mountain stream at the bottom, where by night they can 



