194 CAMP FIRE REMINISCENCES 
tially fallen trees taken down, but in a natural for- 
est, there are many trees dead and ready to fall . 
when a heavy gale blows, and there are many 
partially fallen trees leaning and rubbing against 
others; so these in a storm become regular musie 
boxes with their creaking and groaning. Where 
we were camped the heavy timber had been felled 
for building and the dead trees for fire, so we were 
reasonably safe with well-rooted young trees 
around, but there was too much noise for much 
sleep, and I, for one, passed a very restless night. 
The next day the gale was still raging when we 
were at breakfast. Jackson had sat up late and 
cleaned the antelope scalps and heads, salting the 
former and turning them inside out to dry. The 
pronghorn (Antilocapid americana) is the only 
antelope which sheds its horn sheath every year. 
It is often difficult to convince a Wyoming rancher 
of this, as there is always a good-sized new horn 
underneath when the old sheath falls off, so he 
never sees a buck without a horn of some kind. 
Beaver Creek flowed past our camp, the timber- 
covered country rising very abruptly on each side 
of it—that on the south being the lip of the Fall 
River basin. 
I decided to hunt the ridge on the north side of 
the creek, and as Fayler was compelled to visit his 
own cabin this day, C. and myself drew lots for 
Jackson. C. won and they went south, and I 
climbed the ridge, W. coming part of the way with 
me. All morning the gale raged and the noise was 
terrific, but in the afternoon it quieted down. As- 
