OF SHOOTING AND FISHING 187 
pistols on the ground, then setting to with their 
fists, they fought until one was down. The 
wounded warrior was carried into the post office, 
his wounds washed, then mounting, he rode away 
without any further disturbance. A man told me 
of a friend of his who had killed sixteen antelope 
a short time before. He had found them crossing 
Green River and had evidently shown no mercy. 
As he was a resident of the State, he had only paid 
one dollar for his license, and no one appeared to 
mind what he did. Should an unfortunate sports- 
man, however, with a forty-dollar license, have ex- 
ceeded the limit, he would very soon have been 
arrested. 
We spent a comfortable night in an outhouse, 
and after breakfast on the 10th, got under way. 
Our course lay north and parallel with Green 
River and we expected to reach the foot of the 
Wind River Mountains by night. I rode ahead 
of the wagon and C. and W. brought up the 
rear. In a short time the last barbed wire fence 
of civilisation had been passed and we were out 
on the rolling sagebrush country. A few miles had 
been covered when the first pronghorn appeared, 
standing within two hundred yards of the trail and 
looking at us. He had only spikes, however, so 
his head was of no value. Five minutes later, nine 
walked out on a butte some distance away and 
looked at us, but their curiosity was soon satis- 
fied and they went off. C. and myself followed 
this bunch for several miles; and we each had a 
long shot, but missed; they were too wild and the : 
