wanted, but we did the best we could. We were in the heart of the
hills all day. There were simply thousands of the great sand
drifts in every direction. Buffalo bones half buried were
becoming numerous. We saw several coyotes, or prairie wolves,
skulking about, but we shot at them without success. We got water
at Cody, and pressed on. In the afternoon we sighted some
antelope looking cautiously over the crest of a sand billow.
Ollie mounted the pony and I took my rifle, and we went after
them, while Jack kept on with the wagon. They retreated, and we
followed them a mile or more back from the trail, winding among
the drifts and attempting to get near enough for a shot. But they
were too wary for us. At last we mounted a hill rather higher
than the rest, and saw them scampering away a mile or more to the
northwest. We were surprised more by something which we saw still
on beyond them, and that was a little pond of water deep down
between two great ridges of sand.

"I didn't expect to see a lake in this country," said Ollie.

I studied the lay of the land a moment, and said: "I think
it's simply a place where the wind has scooped out the sand down
below the water-line and it has filled up. The wind has dug a
well, that's all. You know the telegraph-operator at Georgia told
us the wells here were shallow--that there's plenty of water down
a short distance."

We could see that there was considerable grass and quite an
oasis around the pond. But in every other direction there was
nothing but sand billows, all scooped out on their northwest
sides where the fierce winds of winter had gnawed at them. The