"What are those, Joe?" he said, pointing to them.
"Oh," said Joe, "those are the Three Buttes—Sweet-grass Hills, you know. That's where the camp will go when they go to hunt buffalo."
"My!" said Jack, "you can see a long way, can't you?"
"Yes," said Joe, "plenty prairie, ain't there?"
"You bet! But it's cold up here, Joe," said Jack; "let's walk around a little. I'd like to walk over to the other side and look down into that other valley. It don't look as if anybody had ever been up there. It's just as wild as wild can be."
"No," said Joe, "not many people go up there. Sometimes Kutenais or Stonies come down from the north and go up there to hunt. Not often though."
"Is there much game there, Joe?"
"I don't know," was the answer, "but last year when I was camped here with my uncle, a little camp of Stonies came down, and went up there and stayed four days, and when they came back they had two moose, an elk, and lots of sheep and goats."
"Jerusalem!" said Jack; "there must be lots of game."
"Yes, I suppose there is; plenty for everybody to eat."