34 PRAIRIE AND FOREST. 
retires to them to spend in abundance the winter of life; 
while the graceful deer, the timid hare, and the sagacious 
beaver here pass their lives in peaceful, happy contentment, 
except some adventurous white man or snake-visioned red- 
skin should pay.it a visit, destroying, as man ever does, the 
serenity that reigned around previous to his advent. 
But come, the morning has broken clear and invigor- 
ating, breakfast has already been discussed, and the horses 
have got a rough rub over. The neighborhood is well suit- 
ed for a gallop; for, from the slight shower of the previous 
evening, the soil is springy, and-fewer of the indefatigable 
little burrowers—the prairie-dogs—have undermined our 
vicinity. Meat is wanted, and as we start our minds are 
made up that, unless successful, the sun must dip the west- 
eru horizon ere we return. Each attending to his own 
nag, and giving an extra pull upon the girths ere getting 
into the saddle, at a sober, steady pace we start. An old 
practiced buffalo-runner (for so the Western man terms his 
favorite and experienced horse) will quietly settle to his 
master’s will, for from experience well he knows that prob- 
ably a hard day’s work is before him, and all his strength 
will be required; while the youngster or griffin at this 
work frets and prances, almost pulling his rider from the 
pig-skin. Forbear, rider; curb your annoyance; give and 
take a pull upon your snaffle; soon the youngster will set- 
tle down, and this day’s work will probably teach him a 
lesson that will act advantageously on his future conduct. 
Discussing subjects suitable for such occasions, miles are 
passed; so far, with the exception of numerous bleached 
bones or an occasional deer or antelope track, no indication 
of game has been seen. From a knoll a survey is made; a 
fresh hole or two is taken up in the girths, and the scarcity 
of animal life commented upon. To the Indian, of course, 
the blame is laid; war-parties or moving villages of redskins 
