and sat as near it as he could with safety, his eyes fixed upon the leaping flame. But it was not easy to resist the drowsy feeling which was stealing over him. His head drooped forward, his eyelids fell over his eyes. He slept.
When he woke, the fire was a mass of glowing coals, but the flames had sunk. He rubbed his eyes, shook back his hair, and stared. For he was no longer alone. Something living and breathing was standing on the other side of the fire, staring back at him with bright, unblinking eyes.
Dick had not been a hunter for years in vain, and he recognized the creature for a large and splendid Rocky Mountain ram.
The Rocky Mountain sheep are like no flocks of the plains. Wild, shy, strong, and beautiful, they dwell in the high regions where few can follow them.
Dick had shot many a one, and now, after his first minute of absolute surprise,
