4-M 



RECREATION 



side of the chasm. Here, on the verge of 

 that impassable canyon, I sat panting and 

 looking- at the poor dead creature upon the 



opposite side; its right front leg was shat- 

 tered at the shoulder, a bullet had pierced 

 its lungs. Yet, with two fatal wounds and 

 a useless leg, the plucky creature had scaled 

 the face of a cliff which one would think a 

 squirrel would find impossible to traverse 

 and made leaps which might well be con- 

 sidered improbable for a perfectly sound 

 animal. The ram was dead and food for 

 the ravens, and a reaction had taken place 

 in my mind; I felt like a bloody murderer, 

 and hung my head with a sense of guilt. 



Suddenly becoming conscious of that 

 peculiar guttural noise, used by Big Pete 

 when desiring caution, and looking up I 

 was amazed to see a beautiful young girl 

 climb down the face of the opposite cliff, 

 throw her arms around the dead ram's 

 neck and burst into deep but subdued 

 lamentation. For the first time I now saw 

 that what I had mistaken for a blood stain 

 on the bighorn's neck was a red collar. 



Cautiously producing my field glasses I 

 examined the collar and discovered it to 

 be made of stained porcupine quills 

 cleverly worked on a buckskin band. The 

 field glasses also told me that the girl's 

 dress was trimmed with the same material, 

 while a duplicate of the sheep's collar 

 formed a band which encircled her queenly 

 head, confining the tumbling curls and pre- 

 venting them from falling over her face, 

 but leaving them free to hang down her 

 back to a point below the waist line. 



So absorbed was I in this unique spec- 

 tacle that I carelessly allowed my elbow to 

 dislodge a loose fragment of stone which 

 went clattering down the face ot the preci- 

 pice. This proved to be almost fatal care- 

 lessness, for, with a movement as quick as 

 the stroke of a rattlesnake, the girl placed an 

 arrow to the string of a bow and sent the 

 barbed shaft with such force, promptitude 

 and precision that it went through my fur 

 cap, the arrow entangling a bunch of my 

 hair, taking it along with it. 



"Squat lower, Le-Loo; gals has been 

 the death of many a man afore you," whis- 

 pered Big Pete in my ear, but even as he 

 spoke another and another arrow sang over 

 our crouching bodies, shaving the protecting 



rock so closely that their plumed tips 

 brushed the dust on our backs. 



" Waughl Good shootin', by gum! I never 

 seed it beat ; if she onct sets them purty eyes 

 on our hulking carcasses she'll get us yit," 

 muttered my guide, enthusiastically. She's 

 mighty slender, quick and purty — but so 

 also be a wasp!" he exclaimed, as another 

 arrow slit the sleeve of his wamus as cleanly 

 as if it were cut with a knife. 



"For God's sake, stop!" I shouted, in 

 real alarm. The girl paused, but with an 

 arrow still drawn to its head. Her cheeks 

 were blazing with color, eyes flashing, head 

 erect, one dainty foot on the ram's body, the 

 other braced against the cliff; her short 

 fawn-colored skin skirt clung to her lithe 

 limbs, and the fringed edges hung over the 

 dreadful black chasm in front of her. It was 

 a picture to take away one's breath. "Put 

 down your weapon, Miss, and we will stand 

 with our hands up," I cried. Slowly the 

 bow was lowered and as slowly Big Pete and 

 -I arose, holding our empty hands aloft. 

 "Now, Miss, tell us your pleasure." 



I have already stated that I was a bache- 

 lor, but I trust the reader will believe me 

 when I say that I was not devoid of senti- 

 ment, and a beautiful woman had all the 

 claims to my admiration and reverence that 

 she has to any properly constructed man. 

 This being the case, I feel no shame in ad- 

 mitting that though a single man, my poor 

 battered heart showed the scars of many 

 a meeting in which it came off the field 

 badly worsted. Still, it may be truthfully 

 said that no girl I ever met made such a 

 lasting impression upon me and no other 

 member of her sex ever made my heart stand 

 still as did this wild Alpine amazon of the 

 Rocky Mountains. Talk about Cupid's 

 darts ! I know their smart and the pain from 

 theirpoisoned tips; but, if I must confess it, 

 I would rather be a target for Cupid all my 

 life than to have that beautiful tigress shoot 

 at me for another five minutes. There are a 

 few gray hairs showing at my temples which 

 first made their appearance while I was 

 crouching behind that stone on the edge of 

 the chasm. 



To our polite inquiry asking her pleasure, 

 the wild girl made no reply, but glancing at 

 us with the utmost contempt, she mutely 

 pointed to the dead sheep, the sight of which 



