96 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



and pushed out to the end of the Bad Lands. 

 Here, as there had been no wind, I knew I 

 should find in the snow the tracks of one of 

 the riders from the line camp, whose beat lay 

 along the edge of the prairie for some eight 

 miles, until it met the beat of a rider from the 

 line camp next above. As nightfall came on 

 it grew even colder; long icicles hung from 

 the lips of my horse ; and I shivered slightly 

 in my fur coat. I had reckoned the distance 

 ill, and it was dusk when I struck the trail ; 

 but my horse at once turned along it of his 

 own accord and began to lope. Half an hour 

 later I saw through the dark what looked like 

 a spark on the side of a hill. Toward this 

 my horse turned ; and in another moment a 

 whinneying from in front showed I was near 

 the camp. The light was shining through a 

 small window, the camp itself being a dugout 

 with a log roof and front — a kind of frontier 

 building always warm in winter. After turn- 

 ing my horse into the rough log stable with 

 the horses of the two cowboys, I joined the 

 latter at supper inside the dugout ; being re- 

 ceived of course with hearty cordiality. After 

 the intense cold outside the warmth within 

 was almost oppressive, for the fire was roaring 

 in the big stone fireplace. The bunks were 

 broad; my two friends turned into one, and I 

 was given the other, with plenty of bedding ; 

 so that my sleep was sound. 



We had breakfasted and saddled our horses 

 and were off by dawn next morning. My 

 companions, muffled in furs, started in op- 

 posite directions to ride their lonely beats, 

 while I steered for my hunting-ground. It 



