Good Hunting 



near a little grove of ash, box-alder, and 

 willow, which gave us shade at noonday ; 

 and there were two or three pools of good 

 water in the creek bed one so deep that 

 I made it my swimming-bath. 



The first day that I was able to make 

 a hunt I rode out with my foreman, 

 Sylvane Ferris. I was mounted on 

 Muley. Twelve years before, when Muley 

 was my favorite cutting -pony on the 

 round-up, he never seemed to tire or to 

 lose his dash, but Muley was now sixteen 

 years old, and on ordinary occasions he 

 liked to go as soberly as possible ; yet the 

 good old pony still had the fire latent in 

 his blood, and at the sight of game or, 

 indeed, of cattle or horses he seemed to 

 regain for the time being all the head- 

 long courage of his vigorous and supple 

 youth. 



On the morning in question it was two 

 or three hours before Sylvane and I saw 

 70 



