SPORTING REMINISCENCES. 129 



SPOETIE'G REMINISCENCES. 



FOK some days I had had a terribly hard time of 

 it. The ground had drunk its full and to spare 

 of snow-water, game was scarce and wild, and the 

 scanty herbage that my horse and mule were able 

 to obtain since we entered the plains was barely 

 sufficient to keep them alive ; still, good seventy 

 miles more had to be traversed before I could reach 

 the friendly shelter of the belt of timber that sur- 

 rounded the Fork. If it had been autumn, I dare 

 not have chosen this route, for it is a debatable 

 ground of the Camanche and Arrapahoe, to whom a 

 solitary white man would be so tempting a morsel 

 that he could not fail to be caught, and we will not 

 say what done to ; the very conjecture is disagree- 

 able. The severity of the late weather, therefore, 

 was my safety; for red skins, no less than white 

 men, dislike unnecessary exposure. Still I was con- 

 vinced some stragglers must have lately visited the 

 neighborhood, for the occasional head of game I saw 

 was so wary that I concluded hunters had lately 



