entire band will whirl around to face it, with big round ears standing
straight up, and in this way they will remain a second or two,
constantly sniffing the air. Failing to discover anything dangerous,
they will take a few steps forward, perhaps run around a little,
giving quick tossings of the head, and sniffing with almost every
breath, but whatever they do the stop is always in the same
position--facing the flag, the strange object they cannot understand.
Often they will approach very slowly, making frequent halts after
little runs, and give many tossings of the head as if they were
actually coquetting with death itself! Waiting for them to come within
range of the rifle requires great patience, for the approach is always
more or less slow, and frequently just as they are at the right
distance and the finger is on the trigger, off the whole band will
streak, looking like horizontal bars of brown and white! I am always
so glad when they do this, for it seems so wicked to kill such
graceful creatures. It is very seldom that I watch the approach, but
when I do happen to see them come up, the temptation to do something
to frighten them away from those murderous guns is almost
irresistible.

But never once are they killed for mere pleasure! Their meat is tender
and most delicious after one has learned to like the "gamey" flavor.
And a change in meat we certainly do need here, for unless we can have
buffalo or antelope now and then, it is beef every day in the
month--not only one month, but every month.

The prairie-dog holes are great obstacles to following hounds on the
plains, for while running so fast it is impossible for a horse to see
the holes in time to avoid them, and if a foot slips down in one it
means a broken leg for the horse and a hard throw for the rider, and