fastened across the stock saddle by means of a rope and a spare packing
cinch. My cartridges and knife were in my belt; my compass and matches,
as always, in my pocket. I walked, while the little mare followed almost
like a dog, often without my having to hold the lariat which served as
halter.

The country was for the most part fairly open, as I kept near the
foot-hills where glades and little prairies broke the pine forest. The
trees were of small size. There was no regular trail, but the course was
easy to keep, and I had no trouble of any kind save on the second day.
That afternoon I was following a stream which at last "canyoned up,"
that is sank to the bottom of a canyon-like ravine impossible for a
horse. I started up a side valley, intending to cross from its head
coulies to those of another valley which would lead in below the canyon.

However, I got enmeshed in the tangle of winding valleys at the foot of
the steep mountains, and as dusk was coming on I halted and camped in
a little open spot by the side of a small, noisy brook, with crystal
water. The place was carpeted with soft, wet, green moss, dotted red
with the kinnikinnic berries, and at its edge, under the trees where the
ground was dry, I threw down the buffalo bed on a mat of sweet-smelling
pine needles. Making camp took but a moment. I opened the pack, tossed
the bedding on a smooth spot, knee-haltered the little mare, dragged up
a few dry logs, and then strolled off, rifle on shoulder, through the
frosty gloaming, to see if I could pick up a grouse for supper.

For half a mile I walked quickly and silently over the pine needles,
across a succession of slight ridges separated by narrow, shallow
valleys. The forest here was composed of lodge-pole pines, which on
the ridges grew close together, with tall slender trunks, while in