212 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 



dred yards of the river and water was soon secured 

 for camp use. 



Next morning the Pathfinder crawled out and went 

 to work despite the advice of his companions. They 

 were now in a magnificent forest. Trees as straight 

 as the masts of a ship rose from one hundred to two 

 hundred feet in the air, with tops so matted together 

 that it was almost impossible to see daylight through 

 them. It was decided to go up the river, but six 

 miles' travelling in this direction convinced them that 

 they could do nothing there and they retraced their 

 steps. There was little sign of large game. A pe- 

 culiar willowy bush grew from the ground to a height 

 of three or four feet and then the tops bent over and 

 again took root, making an almost impassable un- 

 derbrush. 



Armstrong's horse ranch was the next objective 

 point. On the second evening Farrell went out to 

 get some fresh meat. Soon a shot was heard. 



"That means fresh meat for supper," said Mc- 

 Laughlin. 



As he spoke another and then a third shot rang 

 out. 



" I'm not so sure of it now," was the comment. 



Then followed several shots in quick succession. 



" That much shooting means nothing, or maybe a 

 fawn," was the remark. That he well understood 

 his partner was shown when Farrell came into camp 

 a short time after carrying a fawn across his shoul- 

 ders. The joke was on Farrell, but next morning 

 he went out and found two bucks that he had killed 

 the night before. 



