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 nails in my shoes clink slightly against a stone,the hunter turned to me with a frown of angry impatience;but as he walked slowly,continually halting to look ahead,as well as stooping over to examine the trail,I did not find it very difficult to move silently.
I kept a little behind him,and to one side,save when he crouched to take advantage of some piece of cover,and I crept in his footsteps.Idid not look at the trail at all,but kept watching ahead,hoping at any moment to see the game.
It was not very long before we struck their day beds,which were made on a knoll,where the forest was open and where there was much down timber.After leaving the day beds the animals had at first fed separately around the grassy base and sides of the knoll,and had then made off in their usual single file,going straight to a small pool in the forest.After drinking they had left this pool,and travelled down towards the gorge at the mouth of the basin,the trail leading along the sides of the steep hill,which were dotted by open glades;while the roar of the cataracts by which the stream was broken,ascended from below.Here we moved with redoubled caution,for the sign had grown very fresh and the animals had once more scattered and begun feeding.When the trail led across the glades we usually skirted them so as to keep in the timber.
