Though so trifling, the success of our first Buffalo hunt gave us quite a social lift.

We were now back at Smith Landing, and fired with a desire to make another Buffalo expedition on which we should have ampler time and cover more than a mere corner of the range.

The buffalo hunt is dead.

On the 27th we came to the Cascade Rapids. The first or Little Cascade has about two feet fall, the second or Grand Cascade, a mile farther, is about a six foot sheer drop.

The ancient feud between cat and dog is not forgotten in the north, for the Lynx is the deadly foe of the Fox and habitually kills it when there is soft snow and scarcity of easier prey.

Not Carnegie, Vanderbilt, and Astor together could have raised money enough to buy a quarter share in my little dog.