264 Hunting the Mule -Deer in Colorado. 



an hour under the pines, waiting for light enough to see to shoot. 

 My method of approach to the foot of the long, shallow, wooded 

 gulch in which I now stood had been well chosen. I had avoided a 

 tedious circuit among logs, and sticks that would snap, and stones that 

 would roll, and a peculiarly exasperating large-leaved plant, that in its 

 dry condition rattles when touched like castanets. I knew that the 

 deer "used " in this vicinity, for I had frequently seen sign here ; I had 

 calculated the direction of the wind, the lay of the land, my course 

 from the light of the rising sun, so that I might see better than be 

 seen, hear better than be heard, and, if my nose could not help me, 

 at least to avoid offense to any keener sense of smell than my own. 

 I thought myself very sagacious. Well, in due time I decided that 

 there was light enough for my purpose. Cautiously up the left side 

 of the gulch I worked from tree to tree, peering among the shadows, 

 scanning the earth as closely as possible to see whether anything 

 had brushed the feathery flakes that barely covered it. I took a long 

 time, and it grew light too fast, I thought. By and by, high up at 

 the head of a grassy swale that wound down the center, I saw three 

 imprints of round, plump bodies. The snow was deeper here ; there 

 were trees close behind, up the gulch, but evidently there had been 

 no desire for shelter. They had all lain so as to see down the slope, 

 their slender legs curled under for warmth, which had melted the bed 

 a little and pressed it closely and firm. I put my hand on the half 

 transparent matrix : it was not frozen yet ; the little white pellets of 

 snow-dust that came with the wind, slanting and rolling along the 

 ground, had hardly begun to accumulate in the depressions made by 

 the knees and feet. Evidently, my quarry had lain here in full view 

 of my slow approach ; what moment had they cunningly chosen to 

 rise and slip away like shadows ? They must still be near. See, the 

 tracks are close together and rambling. No sudden fear, or they 

 would be in pairs and far apart. Strange, they go down the gulch, 

 on the side opposite. Cautiously again I begin to follow the little 

 tell-tale tokens. Very cautious before, I am preternaturally so now. 

 Not a footfall of my own, not a breath do I permit myself to startle 

 my own ears with. I am an hour, perhaps, following these tiny, mean- 

 dering foot-prints down to a point where they turn sharply and lead 

 straight up the side of the gulch to the ridge at its edge. A new 

 light — the sun is up now, but it isn't that — breaks upon me. It is 



