a couple of three-year-old rams, but not a single big fellow--for the
big fellows at this season are off by themselves, singly or in little
bunches, high up in the mountains. The band I saw was tame to a degree
matched by but few domestic animals.

They were feeding on the brink of a steep washout at the upper edge of
one of the benches on the mountain side just below where the abrupt
slope began. They were alongside a little gully with sheer walls. I rode
my horse to within forty yards of them, one of them occasionally looking
up and at once continuing to feed. Then they moved slowly off and
leisurely crossed the gully to the other side. I dismounted, walked
around the head of the gully, and moving cautiously, but in plain sight,
came closer and closer until I was within twenty yards, where I sat down
on a stone and spent certainly twenty minutes looking at them. They
paid hardly any attention whatever to my presence--certainly no more
than well-treated domestic creatures would pay. One of the rams rose on
his hind legs, leaning his fore-hoofs against a little pine tree, and
browsed the ends of the budding branches. The others grazed on the short
grass and herbage or lay down and rested--two of the yearlings several
times playfully butting at one another. Now and then one would glance in
my direction without the slightest sign of fear--barely even of
curiosity. I have no question whatever but that with a little patience
this particular band could be made to feed out of a man's hand. Major
Pitcher intends during the coming winter to feed them alfalfa--for game
animals of several kinds have become so plentiful in the neighborhood of
the Hot Springs, and the Major has grown so interested in them, that he
wishes to do something toward feeding them during the severe winter.
After I had looked at the sheep to my heart's content, I walked back to
my horse, my departure arousing as little interest as my advent.