The two buffalo cows that Mr. McNaney killed just before we moved our camp seemed to be the last in the country, for during the following week we scouted for 15 miles in three directions, north, east, and south, without finding as much as a hoof-print. At last we decided to go away and give that country absolute quiet for a week, in the hope that some more buffalo would come into it. Leaving McCanna and West to take care of the camp, we loaded a small assortment of general equipage into the wagon and pulled about 25 miles due west to the Musselshell River. We found a fine stream of clear water, flowing over sand and pebbles, with heavy cottonwood timber and thick copses of willow along its banks, which afforded cover for white-tailed deer. In the rugged brakes, which led from the level river bottom into a labyrinth of ravines and gullies, ridges and hog-backs, up to the level of the high plateau above, we found a scanty growth of stunted cedars and pines, which once sheltered great numbers of mule deer, elk, and bear. Now, however, few remain, and these are very hard to find. Even when found, the deer are nearly always young. Although we killed five mule deer and five white-tails, we did not kill even one fine buck, and the only one we saw on the whole trip was a long distance off. We saw fresh tracks of elk, and also grizzly bear, but our most vigorous efforts to discover the animals themselves always ended in disappointment. The many bleaching skulls and antlers of elk and deer, which we found everywhere we went, afforded proof of what that country had been as a home for wild animals only a few years ago. We were not a little surprised at finding the fleshless carcasses of three head of cattle that had been killed and eaten by bears within a few months. In addition to ten deer, we shot three wild geese, seven sharp-tailed grouse, eleven sage grouse, nine Bohemian waxwings, and a magpie, for their skeletons. We made one trip of several miles up the Musselshell, and another due west, almost to the Bull Mountains, but no signs of buffalo were found. The weather at this time was quite cold, the thermometer registering 6 degrees below zero; but, in spite of the fact that we were without shelter and had to bivouac in the open, we were, generally speaking, quite comfortable. Having found no buffalo by the 17th, we felt convinced that we ought to return to our permanent camp, and did so on that day. Having brought back nearly half a wagon-load of specimens in the flesh or half skinned, it was absolutely necessary that I should remain at camp all the next day. While I did so, Messrs. McNaney and Boyd rode over to the Buffalo Buttes, found four fine old buffalo cows, and, after a hard chase, killed them all.