Hunting A merican Big Gatne 



to get a shot ; and great was my delight to 

 deprive this little band of their supercilious 

 protector. Upon another occasion I was 

 camping away back up in the mountains, 

 where there were about eighteen inches of 

 snow on the ground. The weather had 

 been villanous ; there was no meat in the 

 camp, and I determined to see if I could 

 not get a deer. The prospect was not very 

 cheering ; for shortly after starting a heavy 

 fog shut down, hiding all objects from 

 view. I had not proceeded far, however, 

 when I struck the fresh track of a ram ; 

 and, following it cautiously for about a 

 mile through the open, it led into a dense 

 patch of pine on the side of the mountain. 

 Proceeding very carefully now, I soon 

 made out the outline of a fine old ram 

 that had wandered off here in the timber 

 to be by himself. Giving him no time to 

 run, for I was close upon him, certainly 

 not farther than twenty-five yards, I planted 

 a shot just back of the shoulder; but he 

 did not seem to mind it. I gave him an- 

 other when he started to walk slowly off. 

 One more shot in the same place, and down 

 he came. Even then he died hard. Such 

 is the vitality of an old ram ; for upon ex- 

 amining him I found his heart all torn to 

 pieces. This was a good head of nearly 



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