MY FIRST TRIP TO THE ROCKIES 151 



and, from the cheery noises that floated down the 

 breeze to our ears after dark from the military camp 

 a few hundred yards away, it was clear that, as Frank 

 remarked, theirs was not a c teetotal outfit.' Next 

 day we gave them the slip, had a long and hot day's 

 travel to the north side of the Medicine Bow Moun- 

 tains, and on the third day after leaving the railroad 

 we pitched our first hunting-camp in a grove of 

 mingled cotton- wood and pine trees by the side of a 

 clear mountain stream running out of the range 

 behind us. 



At the present time this country is a huge sheep 

 and cattle ranch. The river- meadows and streams 

 are for the most part wire-fenced. Flock-masters, 

 with their herds and travelling waggons, pass over it 

 to and fro, from summer to winter range, and the 

 wild green pastures of the seventies are now a thing 

 of the past, eaten up, trodden down, and periodically 

 desolated by the thousands of: domestic sheep that 

 have largely added to the wealth of Wyoming, but 

 have, on the other hand, ruined a large part of the 

 State (it was then a Territory) as a game-preserve and 

 a hunting-ground. To the sportsman and naturalist 

 the foot-hills of the Wyoming Rockies and the 

 mountain valleys of the North Platte have now, alas ! 

 largely lost their interest and attraction. But in the 

 days of which I write Wyoming was a hunter's para- 

 dise. Every day and all day, as we travelled over 

 sage-clad rolling prairie from Fort Steele, past river 

 bottom and rocky bluff, we had seen antelope in 

 small bands watching us curiously from a distance or 

 galloping out of sight in a cloud of dust. In the 

 wooded valleys and in the cotton- wood groves along 

 stream and river black-tail deer were numerous, and 



