Camping and Hunting in the Slwslwne 



trophies — heads left on — securely on the 

 cow-saddles ! What cannot a good bron- 

 cho do when he wants to get back to the 

 herd ! For a couple of thousand feet 

 we led the horses, and then fairly raced. 

 What fun is a good scamper home when 

 you have a stanch pony between your legs ! 

 The sure-footedness and hardiness of a well- 

 trained pony are simply marvellous ; give 

 him his head, and if there is a ghost of a 

 trail he will take it. Many an evening did 

 we race home against time, determined 

 to get over the three miles of twisted 

 and fallen timber before the last glow van- 

 ished. Once out of the timber we could 

 sober down, for all was plain sailing. 

 Three or four miles more, — among old 

 beaver-meadows, where every now and 

 then we heard, loud almost as a pistol- 

 shot, the beaver smite the water with his 

 broad tail, as he went down into his own 

 quiet, clear pool, — and the welcome blaze 

 of the camp-fire promised rest, after re- 

 freshing and sufficient toil, as well as good 

 companionship. 



There is among Western men much con- 

 troversy as to the various kinds of bears 

 inhabiting our Western Alps ; but the 

 number of those who, from personal obser- 

 vation, are capable of forming an opinion. 



