The Mandans call it the ahsahta, a name much better than the clumsy appellation which it generally bears.

It is of the size of a small elk, or large deer, and of a dun color, excepting the belly and round the tail, where it is white.
In its habits it resembles the goat, frequenting the rudest precipices; cropping the herbage from their edges; and like the chamois, bounding lightly and securely among dizzy heights, where the hunter dares not venture.

It is difficult, therefore, to get within shot of it.

Ben Jones the hunter, however, in one of the passes of the Black Hills, succeeded in bringing down a bighorn from the verge of a precipice, the flesh of which was pronounced by the gormands of the camp to have the flavor of excellent mutton.
Baffled in his attempts to traverse this mountain chain, Mr.Hunt skirted along it to the southwest, keeping it on the right; and still in hopes of finding an opening.

At an early hour one day, he encamped in a narrow valley on the banks of a beautifully clear but rushy pool; surrounded by thickets bearing abundance of wild cherries, currants, and yellow and purple gooseberries.
While the afternoon's meal was in preparation, Mr.Hunt and Mr.M'Kenzie ascended to the summit of the nearest hill, from whence, aided by the purity and transparency of the evening atmosphere, they commanded a vast prospect on all sides.