Soon after we crossed the Battle River, one beautiful morning, bright and early, Samson and old Paul's son, whom we called "little Paul," and myself left our camp to come slowly on, while we set out on a scouting and hunting trip in advance. Steadily we jogged over hill and plain, through a lovely park-like country, Samson quietly regaling us with hunting and war exploits. On the brow of a mossy knoll, which still showed the travois markings which proved it to have been an old Blackfoot trail, Samson paused, and pointing to a spot just in front of us, said: "Right here one of the bravest of our men was slain. Crowds were in ambush for him, and, knowing the man, did not give him the slightest chance to resist. He was a Mountain Stony and an old friend of mine. He was one of that kind who know no fear. Men or beasts, it was all the same. Here he died, and the Blackfeet say that while they killed him he smiled upon them. He was one of those who listened to the first praying men." As we rode along past the spot where the brave man had died, one could not help but grip his gun and keep a sharp look-out, for the same conditions still governed this whole country. As we had set out without a mouthful of provision, and now had ridden some hours, I began to feel hungry. Fortunately about noon we came athwart an owl's nest, one of the largest kind, and though it was up in the top of a tall tree, we could see that the owlets were large. Little Paul climbed the tree and brought them down. There was one apiece, and in a very little time they were roasting on willow "broiling sticks" before a quick fire. The birds were fat and juicy, and most agreeably eased the pangs of hunger, after which we proceeded with better spirits. Our course was straight out toward the big plains. We did not see any game, nor did we stop to hunt, as Samson desired to travel a certain distance in order to determine if possible the presence or non-presence of hostile camps. Late in the evening we camped in a secluded spot. Little Paul drew the load from his flintlock, and putting in small charges of powder and shot, killed some rabbits, which we roasted for our supper. Tethering our horses close, little Paul and I stood guard the first part of the night. After midnight Samson went on guard while we slept, and with the first peep of day he woke us; but before we were fairly astir he said, "If we do not meet during the day, we will meet at this place to-night," and he was away. Little Paul and I saddled up and started out on our own line. We rode quietly, listening intently for a shot from Samson's gun. Presently as the sun was freshly gilding the hills, making millions of crystal dew-drops to reflect his rays, I caught sight of something over the brow of a knoll at the edge of some timber. We cautiously scouted for a closer view, and there before us were two large buck elk feeding on the browse and leaves.