132 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



and if necessary do a little chopping and lop- 

 ping with the axe, 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 moun- 

 tains 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 com- 

 forts 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 disap- 

 pointment ; and in many a camp, bad weather, 

 lack of shelter, hunger, thirst, or ill success 

 with game, renders the days and nights irk- 

 some 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 



