The nearest were not more than half a mile off, so we
picketed our horses under the sky line; and choosing the
hollows, walked on till crawling became expedient.
As is
their wont, the outsiders were posted on bluffs or knolls in
a commanding position; these were old bulls. To my
inexperience, our chance of getting a shot seemed small; for
we had to cross the dipping ground under the brow whereon the
sentinels were lying. Three extra difficulties beset us -
the prairie dogs (a marmot, so called from its dog-like bark
when disturbed) were all round us, and bolted into their
holes like rabbits directly they saw us coming; two big grey
wolves, the regular camp followers of a herd, were prowling
about in a direct line between us and the bulls; lastly, the
cows, though up and feeding, were inconveniently out of
reach. (The meat of the young cow is much preferred to that
of the bull.) Jim, however, was confident. I followed my
leader to a wink. The only instruction I didn't like when we
started crawling on the hot sand was "Look out for
rattlesnakes."
'The wolves stopped, examined us suspiciously, then quietly
trotted off. What with this and the alarm of the prairie
dogs, an old bull, a patriarch of the tribe, jumped up and
walked with majestic paces to the top of the knoll. We lay
flat on our faces, till he, satisfied with the result of his
scrutiny, resumed his recumbent posture; but with his head
turned straight towards us.
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