But really fine greyhounds, accustomed to work together and to hunt this species of game, will usually render a good account of a prong-buck if two or three are slipped at once, fresh, and within a moderate distance.
Although most Westerners take more kindly to the rifle, now and then one is found who is a devotee of the hound.

Such a one was an old Missourian, who may be called Mr.Cowley, whom I knew when he was living on a ranch in North Dakota, west of the Missouri.

Mr.Cowley was a primitive person, of much nerve, which he showed not only in the hunting field but in the startling political conventions of the place and period.

He was quite well off, but he was above the niceties of personal vanity.

His hunting garb was that in which he also paid his rare formal calls--calls throughout which he always preserved the gravity of an Indian, though having a disconcerting way of suddenly tip-toeing across the room to some unfamiliar object, such as a peacock screen or a vase, feeling it gently with one forefinger, and returning with noiseless gait to his chair, unmoved, and making no comment.