"Captain," I said, "the latch-string hangs out for you, and if you will only come and spend the winter with me I shall then endeavor to even up the score with you for this favor, as I know I can do it in no other way." He replied, "Well, I am glad that you know it, and when you photo the great paint rocks of the Sheep Eaters, their Wheel or Holy Shrine, their tepees and landmarks, send me a copy of their wonderful works. And may the Great Spirit keep you until we meet again. So long, Doctor." "So long, Captain, and may your days be full of sunshine." CHAPTER IV STARTING FOR THE PAINT ROCKS Slowly we traveled down the trail full of rounded boulders and stone, our horses scarcely able to keep their feet, and finally we walked and led our horses until we reached a valley far below the apex of the mountain. Here a clear cold stream of water went tumbling down the valley, and here we unpacked and made our camp for the night. While McKensey cooked supper I went after a black bear, whose tracks I had noticed on the sand at the water's edge. I took a course as near north-west as possible, and was soon among the trees and rocks which I loved so well, and which brought remembrance of other days among the mountains. After some wandering I struck a heavy game trail, and could see deer and bear tracks not over a day old. I filled the magazine of my rifle and plunged along at a fast pace. Here and there were thick clumps of quaking asp, mountain birch, and on the creek banks were choke cherries and plum trees. Great springs of water bubbled out of the earth, and by one of these springs I found some of the Sheep Eaters' lodges. They were decayed and fallen to the earth, but the rounded stones with which they warmed the water were there, where the great medicine lodges had stood years before, and where, unmolested, they had passed happy days among the hills and valleys. The old woman's stories of her people were being proved true, and as I passed onward mile after mile I was entranced with the richness of the land, the abundance of game that had once held sway among the hills, shown by the antlers of the elk parched white by the suns, which lay on every side and the rams' horns often seen by the stream. A few bones of the little gazelle were among the remains, and a heavy buffalo trail cut the mountains where once the buffalo passed through this land out onto the Yellowstone.