In this valley (the Colville valley) the Commissioner and myself had, I think, as brisk and nice a bit of shooting as I ever enjoyed. If I remember aright, it was towards the end of September, and the birds had packed. We rode down one clear bright morning, about six miles, to the Horse-Guards. Do not at once hastily imagine any analogy between Colville valley and Whitehall. The heavy man, with his heavy boots, heavy sword, heavy dress, heavy walk, and heaviest of all heavy horses—so conspicuous a feature in our London sights—is represented here by the genuine savage, thin and lissom as an eel; his equipment a whip, a lasso, a scalping-knife, and sometimes a trade-gun; a pad his saddle, and the bands of horses, some two hundred in number, his charge. A stream of cold clear water rambles quietly down the hillside; and as the hills are thickly dotted with bunch-grass, affording most glorious pasturage, the Hudson’s Bay fort horses are always pastured here, and guarded by Indians; hence comes the name—‘the Horse-Guards.’ The Colville valley is, roughly speaking, about thirty miles long, the hills on one side being densely studded with pine-trees, and on the other quite clear of timber, but thickly clothed up to their rounded summits with the bunch-grass. This is a peculiar kind of grass, that grows in tufts, and its fattening qualities are truly wonderful. The little stream at the Horse-Guards has on either side of it a belt of thin brush, and in this, and in the long grass close to the stream, we found the sharp-tailed grouse. There were hundreds of them—up they went, and, right and left, down they came again! It might have been the novelty of the scene, causing an undue anxiety and excitement, or perhaps it was the liver, or powder, or something else—who knows what?—but this I do know, that neither of us shot our best, but we made a glorious bag nevertheless. They rise with a loud rattling noise, and utter a peculiar cry, like ‘chuck, chuck, chuck,’ rapidly and shrilly repeated. On first rising the wings are moved with great rapidity, but after getting some distance off they sail along, the wings being almost quiescent. They pair very early in the spring, long before the snow has gone off the ground, and their love-meetings are celebrated in a somewhat curious fashion. By the half-breeds and fur-traders these festivities are called chicken or pheasant dances. I was lucky enough to be present at several of these balls whilst at Fort Colville. Their usual time of assembling is about sunrise, and late in the afternoon; they select a high round-topped mound; and often, ere the fair are wooed and won, and the happy couple start on their domestic cares, the mound is trampled and beaten bare as a road.