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220 ?-T'Ii?E CONDOR Vol. XIV blue lupine changed to short buffalo-grass and prickly pear, and the bird voices changed from Vesper Sparrows and Meadowlarks, to Horned Larks and Mc- Cown Longspurs. Far to the north lay an irregular line of dark green cotton- woods, marking the course of the South Fork of the Sun River, and I knew that somewhere along its banks lay the town of Augusta. The town, however, was on the north side of the stream and completely hidden from my view behind the cottonwoods, so that I was at a loss to know toward which part of the stream to ride. As I drew nearer I made out a ranch building on the south side of the stream and heading toward that, soon struck a road which by good luck, crossed the stream on a bridge, but a quarter of a mile above the town. The next day was the last of the trip, and over a road with which I was already familiar. Chouteau lay but twenty-eight miles to the north. Four miles out from Augusta I crossed the North Fork of the Sun River, which forms the boundary between Lewis and Clark and Teton counties. On the other side of the river the road led to the top of a long, level, prairie bench, where it remained nearly all the way to'Chouteau. At one place in a hollow beside the road, lay one of the small alkaline ponds which are characteristic of this section of the country. I left my horse to graze beside the road, and took a walk around the borders of the pond' to see what birds were in the vicinity. A few weeks' ago I had explored this same pond, and had found many pairs of Avocets and Wilson Phalar0pes 'evidently breeding. In fact I remember two half-grown Avocets, struggling through the green scum that bordered the pond and swim- ming away into the open water at my approach, while their parents circled about my head. Now they had' all left and the only water birds seen were a flock of ducks, principally Mallards and Baldpates, swimming about near the edge of a small grassy island. Horned Larks and Longspurs fed about the edge of the pond, the Longspurs walking daintily over the green scum at the edge, and eating the small insects that swarmed there. Several young Longspurs, barely able to fly, were here with their parents, and one such had evidently come to grief in its efforts to imitate its parents' example, and was drowned in the midst of the scum. So far the weather had been perfect throughout the trip, but now as I rode over the p?'airie bench, I noticed a thunderstorm coming up. I saw that unless I soon got under cover I was in for a wetting, so noticing an old sheep camp in a coulee on the east side of the bench, I turned down there and found shelter for myself'and ?my horse under the shed. The storm came and I was glad I was not out in it, for the rain soon turned to hail, with stones large enough to be de- cidedly uncomfortable. Even during' the storm I found birds to watch, for a Say Phoebe and a small flock of Longspurs came under the shed to seek shelter also. 'The Phoebe sat on a beam under the roof, quiet save for an occasional flirt of the tail, but the Longspurs walked about, feeding on the ground under the shed as though they were out in the open in the best of weather. When the storm was over I proceeded on my way. The sun shone out again over the dripping prairie, and the Longspurs broke into song everywhere as though it were a. morning chorus. Finally I came to the end of the long bench and the road wound downward through a grou p of curiously shaped rocks. A colony of Cliff Swallows were nesting on the sides of one of these rocks, while a Rock Wren in song, and a Duck Hawk, wheeling over the prairie were other birds that probably had their homes there. Around a bend in the road I soon came in sight of the Teton River Valley and the town of Chouteau among the Cottonwoods of the river bank.