FIFTH CHAPTER 

 ON THE SHEEP RANGES 



f I V HE morning following our arrival at our 

 ■*• camp on Kletsan Creek (August 21st) we 

 arose early with blood a-tingle, and nerves 

 on edge for what turned out to be the most 

 bungling stalk I have ever been guilty of sharing 

 in. I have often dwelt on the importance of 

 splitting up, or spreading out, in game hunting, 

 in order to avoid a crowd while stalking, but in 

 this instance the powers seem to have decreed 

 otherwise, for we approached that game-laden 

 mountain, on that most auspicious of all days, 

 en masse, much as a regiment of soldiers would 

 attack an enemy in the old way of the good old 

 days. There were in the storming party Harry, 

 William, Rogers and myself, as the would-be 

 annihilators extraordinary; Cap and Wooden as 

 guides, and Longley as horse wrangler (for we 

 rode to the foot of the mountain, five miles, on 

 horseback). The only reason we didn't take 

 Brownie, Shorty and Jimmy along, too, was be- 

 cause Brownie had been sent to Shushanna for 

 salt, and Shorty and Jimmie probably had better 

 sense than to come. Of course we knew there 



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