wonder. There in the dust were the unmistakable hoof-marks of a small
band of bison, apparently but a few hours old. They were headed towards
the lake. There had been a half a dozen animals in the party; one a big
bull, and two calves.

We immediately turned and followed the trail. It led down to the little
lake, where the beasts had spread and grazed on the tender, green
blades, and had drunk their fill. The footprints then came together
again, showing where the animals had gathered and walked off in single
file to the forest. Evidently they had come to the pool in the early
morning, walking over the game pass from some neighboring valley, and
after drinking and feeding had moved into the pine forest to find some
spot for their noontide rest.

It was a very still day, and there were nearly three hours of daylight
left. Without a word my silent companion, who had been scanning the
whole country with hawk-eyed eagerness, besides scrutinizing the sign on
his hands and knees, took the trail, motioning me to follow. In a moment
we entered the woods, breathing a sigh of relief as we did so; for while
in the meadow we could never tell that the buffalo might not see us, if
they happened to be lying in some place with a commanding lookout.

The old hunter was thoroughly roused, and he showed himself a very
skilful tracker. We were much favored by the character of the forest,
which was rather open, and in most places free from undergrowth and down
timber. As in most Rocky Mountain forests the timber was small, not only
as compared to the giant trees of the groves of the Pacific coast, but
as compared to the forests of the northeast. The ground was covered
with pine needles and soft moss, so that it was not difficult to walk
noiselessly. Once or twice when I trod on a small dry twig, or let the