THE LONG TRAIL 



a picture letter gloried in the envy of the 

 rest until another mail placed a substitute 

 upon the pedestal. In these picture let- 

 ters father would sketch scenes and inci- 

 dents about the ranch or on his short hunt- 

 ing trips. We read most of them to pieces, 

 unluckily, but the other day I came across 

 one of the non-picture letters that father 

 wrote me : 



August 30, '96. 

 Out on the prairie. 

 I must send my little son a letter too, for his 

 father loves him very much. I have just ridden 

 into camp on Muley,* with a prongbuck strapped 

 behind the saddle; I was out six hours before 

 shooting it. Then we all sat down on the ground 

 in the shade of the wagon and had dinner, and now 

 I shall clean my gun, and then go and take a bath 

 in a big pool nearby, where there is a large flat 

 stone on the edge, so I don't have to get my feet 

 muddy. I sleep in the buffalo hide bag and I never 

 take my clothes off when I go to bed ! 



By the time we were twelve or thirteen 



* Fifteen years later when I was in Medora with 

 Captain Seth Bullock, Muley was still alive and enjoying 

 a life of ease in Joe Ferris's pastures. 



18 



