188 CAMP FIRE REMINISCENCES 
country too open. After crossing Cottonwood 
Creek, we entered a valley called the Soap-hole 
Basin; to the left there was some rough ground 
which looked hopeful, as it afforded some shelter 
for the still hunter. First I climbed a height, and 
sitting down with my glasses looked around. The 
wagon road crossed the valley a little east of north. 
I saw our outfit going slowly along, W. riding 
behind, but C. had circled out to the east of 
the road and was, no doubt, trying to get a shot 
at quite a large band which I could see rushing 
to and fro across the country. On my side I 
marked two small lots, one close to the rough ground 
and the other two miles away on the sagebrush 
flat. I left my horse, and after a detour which 
gave me the wind, started a long creep towards 
the game, getting at last within about a quarter 
of a mile of a splendid buck, which appeared to 
act as sentinel, as he was standing on a high place. 
With the glasses, his fine head could be made out, — 
but looking along the rifle the front sight com- 
pletely hid him. As there was not the slightest 
chance of getting nearer, I took my shot and he 
bounded off, followed by his herd, which had been 
out of sight in a depression near by. I noticed 
C.’s horse standing by itself, so knew that he was 
stalking, and presently picked him out and watched 
him having a long shot without result. 
Following the rough ground further west, I did 
some more unsuccessful stalking, and then return- 
ing to the road, followed the wagon which had by 
this time disappeared. An hour later I noticed 
