The Wilderness Hunter. 



while the other followed driving the team. At last we 

 were brought to a standstill, and pitched camp beside a 

 rapid, alder-choked brook in the uppermost of a series of 

 rolling glades, hemmed in by mountains and the dense 

 coniferous forest. Our tent stood under a grove of pines, 

 close to the brook ; at night we built in front of it a big 

 fire of crackling, resinous logs. Our goods were sheltered 

 by the wagon, or covered with a tarpaulin ; we threw down 

 sprays of odorous evergreens to make a resting-place for 

 our bedding ; we built small scaffolds on which to dry the 

 flesh of elk and deer. In an hour or two we had round us 

 all the many real comforts of such a little wilderness home. 



Whoever has long roamed and hunted in the wilderness 

 always cherishes with wistful pleasure the memory of 

 some among the countless camps he has made. The 

 camp by the margin of the clear, mountain-hemmed lake ; 

 the camp in the dark and melancholy forest, where the 

 gusty wind booms through the tall pine tops ; the camp 

 under gnarled cottonwoods, on the bank of a shrunken 

 river, in the midst of endless grassy prairies, of these, 

 and many like them, each has had its own charm. Of 

 course in hunting one must expect much hardship and 

 repeated disappointment ; and in many a camp, bad 

 weather, lack of shelter, hunger, thirst, or ill success with 

 game, renders the days and nights irksome and trying. 

 Yet the hunter worthy of the name always willingly takes 

 the bitter if by so doing he can get the sweet, and gladly 

 balances failure and success, spurning the poorer souls 

 who know neither. 



We turned our horses loose, hobbling one ; and as we 

 did not look after them for several days, nothing but my 



