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CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES.

Travel, Exploration, Amateur Photography,

Hunting, and Fishing,

WITH SPECIAL CHAPTERS ON

MINTING THE GRIZZLY BEAR, TFrE BuFFALO, ELK, ANTELOPE,

ROCEy mOUNTAIN GOAT, AND DEER; ALs0 oN TROUTING IN

'FUE ROCKY MOUNTAINS; ON A MONTANA ROUND-Ur:

LIFE AMONG THE COWBOYS, ETC.

BY G. O. SHIELDS,(4, COQUINA" )

AUTHO OF " LINGs IN THE ROCKIEs," " HUNTING IN THE GREAT

WEST," " THE BATTLE OF THE BIG HOLE," ETC.

CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:

RAND, MCNALLY & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.

1889.

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COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY RAND, IICNALLY & CO.

The articles herein on E:k, Bear, and Antelope Hunting are reprinted by the courtesyof Messrs. Harper 86 Brothers, in whose Magazine they were first published; and thoseon Buffalo Hunting and Trouting are reproduced from " Outing" Magazine, in whichthey first appeared.

" Come live with inc and be my love.And we will all the pleasures proveThat hills and valleys, dales and fields,Woods or steepy mountains, yield."

Marlowe.

"Earth has ,built the great wateh-towers of the mountain:2,and they lift their heads far .up into the sky, and gaze ever up-ward and around to see if the Judge of the World comes not."

Longfellow.

PREFACE.

And now, how can I suitably apologize for havinginflicted another book on the reading public? Iwould not attempt it but that it is the custom amongauthors. And, come to think of it, I guess I won'tattempt it anyway. I will merely say, by way ofexcuse, that my former literary efforts, especiallymy " Rustlings in the Rockies," have brought mein sundry dollars, in good and lawful money, whichI have found very useful things to have about thehouse. If this volume shall meet with an equallykind reception at the hands of book buyers, I shallfeel that, after all, I am not to blame for havingwritten it.

THE AUTHOR.

CIIICAGO, MARCIT, 1889.

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CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

The Benefits, Mental and Physical, of Mountain ClimbingANever-failing Means of Obtaining Sound Sleep and a GoodAppetiteThe Work to be in Proportion to the Strength ofthe ClimberPeople Who Would Like to See, but are TooLazy to ClimbHow the Photograph Camera May Enchancethe Pleasures and Benefits of Mountain ClimbingValuableSouvenirs of Each AscentHow " These 'Filings are Done inEurope "An Effective Cure for Egotism. . . 7

CHAPTER II.

The Cascade Mountains Compared with the RockiesCharacter-istics and Landmarks of the FormerThe Proper Season forCruising in the CascadesGrand Scenery of the Columbia-Viewing Mount Tacoma from the City of TacomaMen WhoHave Ascended this Mysterious PeakIndian Legends Con-cerning the MountainEvil Spirits, Who Dwell in -YawningCavernsThe View from the 1VIountainCrater Lake andthe GlaciersNine Water-falls in Sight from One Point. . 25

CHAPTER III.

The City of SeattleA Booming Western TownLumberingand Salmon CanningExtensive Hop RanchesRich Coaland Iron MinesTimber Resources of Puget SoundGiantFirs and CedarsA Hollow Tree for a HouseBig TimberShipped to EnglandA Million Feet of Lumber from an Acreof LandNovel Method of LoggingNo Snow in Theirs-A World's Supply of Timber for a Thousand Years. . 35

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10 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IV.

Length, Breadth, and Depth of Puget SoundNatural Re-sources of the Surrounding CountryFlora and Fauna of theRegionGreat Vaiiety of Game Birds and AnimalsLargeVariety of Game and Food FishesA Paradise for Sports.man or NaturalistA Sail Through the SoundGrandMountains in Every DirectionThe Home of the Elk, Bear,Deer, and SalmonSea Gulls as Fellow PassengersPhoto-graphed on the WingWild Cattle on Whidby Island-Deception Pass; its Fierct Current and Wierd SurroundingsVictoria, B. C.A Quaint Old, English-looking TONSIL 42

CHAPTER V.

Through English BayWater Fowls that Seem Never to HaveBeen HuntedRifle Practice that was Soon Interrupted-Peculiarities of Burrard InletVancouver and Port MoodyA Stage Ride to WestminsterA Stranger in a StrangeLandHunting for a Guide" Douglass Bill " Found andEmployedAn Indian Funeral Delays the Expedition. . 53

CHAPTER VI.

The Voyage up the FrazierDelicious Peaches Growing in Sightof GlaciersThe Detective Camera Again to the Front-Good Views from the Moving SteamerA Night in anIndian HutThe Sleeping Bag a Refuge from VerminTheIndian as a Stamping Ground for InsectsHe Heeds NotTheir Ravages. .

CHAPTER VII.

A Breakfast with the BachelorUp Harrison River in a CanoeDead Salmon EverywhereTheir Stench NauseatingTheWater Poisoned with CarrionA Good Goose Spoiled withan Express BulletLively Salmon on the FallsStrange In-stinct of this Noble FishLife Sacrificed in the Effort toReach its Spawning GroundsRanchmen Fishing with Pitch-forks, and Indians with Sharp SticksSalmon Fed toHogs, and Used as Fertilizers; the Prey of Bears, Cougars,Wild Cats, Lynxeq, Minks, IVIartins, Hawks, and Eagles. 66

CONTEINTTS. 11

CHAPTER VIII.

The River Above the RapidsA. Lake Within Ba,altic Walls-Alany Beautiful WaterfallsMount Douglas and its GlaciersA Trading Post of the Hudson Bay Fur CompanyTheHot Spring's; an Ancient Indian SanitariumAnxiouslyWaiting for " Douglass Bill "Novel Method of Photo-graphing Big Trees. . . . . . . . . 75

CHAPTER IX.

An Early Morning ClimbA Thousand Feet Above the Lake-Fresh Deer Signs in Sight of the HotelThree Indians Bringin Three Deer" Douglass Bill " Proves as Big a Liar asOther IndiansHeading off a Flock of Canvas BacksAGoodly Bag of these Toothsome BirdsA Siwash HutARevolting Picture of Dirt, Filth, Nakedness, and DecayedFishAnother Guide EmployedReady on Short Notice-Off for the Mountain z. . . . . . . . 82

CHAPTER X.

Characteristics of the Flathead IndiansCanoeists and Pack-ers by Birth and EducationA. Skillful Canoe Builder-Freighting CanoesFi hing CanoesTraveling Canoes-TWO Cords of Wood for a Cargo, and Four Tons of Mer-chandise for AnotherDress of the Coast Indians. . 89

CHAPTER XI.

Climbing the Mountain in a RainstormPean's Dirty Blmkets-His Careful Treatment of His Old MusketA Novel Chargefor Big GameThe' Chatter of the Pine SquirrelA ShotThrough the BrushVenison for SupperA Lame Con-versation: English on the One Side, Chinook on the Other-The Winchester Express Staggers the NativesPeculiaritiesof the Columbia Black Tail Deer. . . . . . 97

CHAPTER XII.

The Chinook Jargon; an Odd Conglomeration of Words; theCourt Language of the Northwest; a Specimen Conversa-tionA Camp on the Alountain SideHow the Indian Tried

12 CONTENTS.

to Sleep WarmThe Importance of a Good Bed whenCampingPean is taken IllHis Fall Down a Mountain-Unable to go Further, We Turn BackBitter Disappoint-ment. . . . . . . . . . . 102

CHAPTER XIII.

The Return to the VillageTwo New Guides EmployedOff forthe Mountains Once MoreThe Tramp up Ski-ik-kul CreekThrough Jungles, Gulches, and CarionsAnd Still it RainsRavages of Forest FiresA Bed of Mountain Feathers-Description of a Sleeping Bag; an Indispensable Lux-ury in Camp Life;,an Indian Opinion of It. . . 107

CHAPTER XIV.

Meditations by a Camp FireSuspicions as to the Honesty ofMy Guides; at Their Mercy in Case of Stealthy AttackAFrightful FallBroken Bones and Intense SufferingAPainful and Tedious Journey HomeA Painful SurgicalOperationA Happy Denouement. . . . . 113

CIIAPTER XV.

The Beauties of Ski-ik-kul Creek; a Raging Mountain Torrent;Rapids and Waterfalls Everywhere; Picturesque Tribu-tariesAbove the Tree Tops:---The Pleasure of QuenchingThirstA Novel SpearA Fifteen-Pound Sahnon for Sup-perThe Indians' Midnight LunchA Grand Camp Fire-At Peace with All Men. . . . . . . 118

CHAPTER XVI.

Seymour Advises a Late Start for Goat Hunting; but His Councilis DisregardedWe Start at SunriseA Queer CraftNavi-gating Ski.ik-kul LakeA " Straight-up " Shot at a Goat-Both Horns Broken Off in the FallMore Rain and LessFunA Doe and KidSuccessful Trout FishingPeculiar-ities of the Skowlitz Tongue; Grunts Groans and WhistlesJohn has TraveledSeymour's Pretended Ignorance ofEnglish. . 125

CONTENTS. 13

CHAPTER XVII.

En Route to the Village AgainA Water-Soaked Country"Oh,What a Fall was There,IVIy Countrymen l" Walking on Slip-pery LogsMore RainWet Indians" Semo He Spile deGrouse "A Frugal BreakfastHigh Living at HomeABear He did a Fishing Go; but He was Caught Instead of

the Fish, and His Skin is Bartered to the UnwashedSiwashes. . . . . . . 132

CHAPTER XVIII.

John and His Family " At Home "Au Interesting Pictute ofDomestic EconomyRifle Practice on Gulls and Grebes-Puzzled Natives" Phwat Kind of Burds is Them ?"A dayon the ColumbiaThe Pallisades from a SteamerPhoto-graphing Bad Lands from a Moving Train. . . 142

CHAPTER XIX.

Deer Hunting at Spokane FallsRuin Wrought by an Over-loaded Shotgun : A Tattered Vest and a Wrecked Watch-Billy's Bear StoryThe Poorest Hunter Makes the BiggcstScoreA Claw in EvidenceA Disgusted Party. . 146

CHAPTER XX.

A Fusilade on the Mule DeerTwo Dol,s as the ResultA GoodShot SpoiledView from the Top of Blue Grouse Mountain-A Grand Panorama ; Lakes, Mountains, Prairies and ForestsJohnston's Sto' yRounding Up Wild HogsA Trick onthe DutchmanA Bucking Mule and a Balky CayuseFallsof the Spokane River. . . . . . 153

CHAPTER XXI.

Hunting the Grizzly BearHabitat and CharacteristicsA Camp

Kettle as a Weapon of DefenseTo the Rescue with a Win-

chesterBest Localities for Hunting the GrizzlyBaitingand Still-HuntingA Surprise Party in the TrailTwo Bull--

eyes and a MissFresh Meat and Revelry in Camp. . 164

14 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXII.

Elk Hunting in the Rocky IVIountainsCharacteristics of theElkHis Mode of TravelA Stampede in a ThicketTheWhist'e of the Elk, the Hunter's Sweetest MusicMeasure-ments of a Pair of AntlersSaved by Following an ElkTrailThe Work of ExterminatorsThe Elk Doomed. . 181

CHAPTER XXIII.Antelope Hunting in MontanaA Red Letter Day on Flat Wil-

lowInitiating a PilgrimSample ShotsFlagging andFanningCatching Wounded Antelopes on Horseback-Four Mule-Loads of Meat. . . . . . . 194

CHAPTER XXIV.

Buffalo Hunting on the Texas PlainsA " Bull Train " Loadedwith SkinsA Sensation in Fort WorthEn Route to theRangeRed River Frank's IVIissionA Stand on the Herd-Deluged with Buffalo BloodA Wild Run by Indians-Tossed into the Air and Trampled into the Earth. . 213

CHAPTER XXV.

Hunting the Rocky Mountain GoatTechnical Description ofthe AnimalIts Limited RangeDangers Incurred in Hunt-ing ItA n, Army Officer's ExperienceA Perilous ShotALong and Dangerous PursuitSuccessful at LastCarry-ing the Trophies to CampWading up Lost Horse Creek-Numerous Baths in Icy WaterAn Indian's Fatal Fall-Horses Stampeded by a BearSeven Days on Foot andAloneHonae at Last. . . . . . . 236

CHAPTER XXVI.

Trouting in the MountainsGameness of the Mountain Trout-A Red Letter Day on the Bitter RootFrontier Tackle andOrthodox BaitHow a Private Soldier Gets to the Front asan AnglerA Coot Interrupts the Sport, and a Rock Inter-rupts the CootColonel Gibson takes a Nine-PounderANative Fly FishermanGrand Sport on Big Spiing Creek-How Captain Hathaway does the HonorsWhere GrandSport may be Found. . . . ..... 257

COIVTENTS. 15

CHAPTER XXVII.

Deer Hunting in Northern Wi,consinOn the Range at Day-lightThe Woods Full of GameMissing a Standing" Broadside " at Thirty YardsSeveral Easy Shots in RapidSuccession; the only Fruits Shame and ChagrinNervous-ness and Excitement Finally Give Way to Coolness andDeliberationA Big Buck at Long RangeA Steady Aimand a Ruptuied ThroatA Blind Run Through Brush andFallen TreesDown at LastA Noble SpecimenHisHead as a Trophy. . . . . . 280

CHAPTER XXVIII.Among the PinesA Picture of Autumnal Loveliness Cor-

dial Welcome to a Logging CampA Successful ShotTheMusic of the Dinner HornA Throat Cut and a Leg Broken

A Stump for a Watch-TowerThe Raven HomewardBoundA Suspicious BuckA. Mysterious PreseuceDeadBeside His MateThree Shots and Three Deer. . 288

CHAPTER XXIX.A Typical WoodsmanModel Home iu the Great Pine Forest

A Lifetime in the WildernessA Deer in a Natural TmPDisappointment and Despondency" What, You Killed aBuck!"Sunrise in the Woods--An ynexpected ShotAFree Circus and a Small AudienceA Buck as a Buck, rMore Venison. . . . . . . . . 296

C II A PTER1 XXX.

Cowboy LifeThe Boys that Become Good RAnge Riders-PeCuliar Tastes and Talents Required for the RanchWagesPaid to CowboysAbuse aud Misrepresentation to whichThey are SubjectedThe " Fresh Kid," and the L wnt:-Haired" Greaser "The Stranger Always Welconae at the Raneli-A Dude InsuPedA Plaid Ulster, a Green Umbrella, and aCranky DispositionMaking a Train Crew DanceAnUncomplimentary ConcertNo Sneak Thieves on the Plains

Leather Breeches, Big Spurs, and a Six-Shooter in a Sleep-ing CarFear Gives Way to Admiration--The Slang of the

16 CONTENTS.

RangeThe " Bucker," and the " Buster "The Good Cow-Horse--Roping for PrizesSnaking a Bear with a Lariat-A Good School for BoysCommunion with Nature Mak. sHonest Men. . . . . . . . 304

CHAPTER XXXI.

iontana RoundupRanges and Ranches on Powder River;Once the Home of the Buffalo, the Elk, the Antelope; nowthe Home of the Texas Steer and the CowboyThe GreatPl3ins in Spring AttireA Gathering of Rustlers" ChuckOutfits" to the FrontEarly RisersTaming an " Alecky "SteerA Red-Hot DeviceBranding and SlittingThe Runoa the Mess Wagon" Cutting Out" and " ThrowingOver "A Cruel Process. . . . . 327

CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES.

CHAPTER I.

" Mountains are the beginning and the end of all natural scenery."

maw OR anyone who has the courage, thehardihood, and the physical strengthto endure the exercise, there is no formof recreation or amusement known tomankind that can yield such grandresults as mountain climbing. I meanfrom a mental as well as from a phys-

ical standpoint ; and, in fact, it is themind that receives the greater benefit. The

exertion of the muscular forces in climbing a'high mountain is necessarily severe; in fact, it is

more than most persons unused to it can readilyendure ; and were it not for the inspiration which

the mind derives from the experience when theascent is made it would be better that the subjectshould essay some milder form of exercise. Butif one's strength be sufficient to endure the laborof ascending a grand mountain peak, that extendsto or above timber line, to the regions of perpetualsnow and ice, or pven toa height that gives a generalview of tile surrounding country, the compensation

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must be ample if one lave an eye for the beautiesof nature, or any appreciation of the grandeur of theCreator' s greatest works.

Vain, self-loving man is wont to consider himselfthe noblest work of God, but let him go to the top ofone of these lofty mountains, surrounded by othertowering peaks, and if he be a sane man he will soonbe convinced that his place in the scale of creation isfar from the top. Let him stand, for instance, on thesummit of Mount Hood, Mount Tacoma, or Mount Ba-ker, thousands of feet above all surrounding peaks,hills, and valleys, where he may gaze into space hun -dredt of miles in every direction, with naught to ob-struct his view, face to face with his Creator, andif he have aught of the love of nature in his soul, or ofappreciation of the sublime in his mental composi-tion, he will be moved to exclaim with the Apostle," What is man that Thou art mindful of him, or theson of man that Thou visitest him ?" He will feel

littleness, his insignificance, his utter lack of im-portance, more forcibly perhaps than ever before. Itseems almost incredible that there should be 'men inthe world who could care so little for the grandest,the sublimest sights their native land affords, as tobe unw.illing to perform the labor necessary to seethem 4tQ the best possible advantage ; and yet it is so,for I have frequently heard them say :

"I should like very much to see these grandsights yog describe, but I never could afford to climbthose high mountains for that pleasure' ; it is toohard work for me."

And; after all, the benefits to be derived frommountain climbing are not wholly of an intellectual

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character ; the physical system may be benefited byit as well. It is a kind of exercise that in turnbrings into use almost every muscle in the body,those of the legs being of course taxed most se-verely, but those of the back do their full share ofthe work, while the arms are called into action almostconstantly, as the climber grasps bushes or rocks bywhich to aid himself in the ascent. The lungs ex-pand and contract like bellows as they inhale andexhale the rarified atmosphere, and the heart beatslike a trip-hammer as it pumps the invigorated bloodthrough the system. The liver is shaken loose fromthe ribs to which it has perchance grown fast, andthe stomach is aroused to such a state of activity asit has probably not experienced for years. Let anyman, especially one of sedentary habits, climb amountain 5,000 feet high, on a bright, pleasant day,when

" Night's candles are burnt out and jocund thyStands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops."

There let him breathe the rare, pure atmosphere,fresh from the portals of heaven, and my word forit lie will have a better appetite, will eat heartier,sleep _sounder, and awake next morning feeling morerefreshed than since the days of his boyhood.

Although the labor be severe it can and should bemodulated to the strength and capabilities of theperson undertaking the task. No one should climbfaster than is compatible with his strength, andhalts should be made every five or ten minutes, ifneed be, to allow the syztem ample rest. In thismanner a vast amount of work may be accomplished

22 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES

in a day, even by one who has had no previousexperience in climbing.

The benefits and pleasures of mountain climbingare .much better understood and appreciated in

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Europe than in this country. Nearly every city ofEngland, France, Spain, Germany, and other Euro-pean countries has an Alpine, Pyrenese, or Hima-layan club. The members of these clubs spend their

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summer outings in scaling the great peaks of themountains after which the societies are named, orother ranges, and the winter evenings in recountingto each other their experiences; and many a man, byhis association with the clubs and by indulgence inthis invigorating pastime develops from a delicateyouth into a muscular, sturdy, athletic man in afew years.

The possible value of mountain climbing as a recrea-tion and as a means of gaining knowledge, has beengreatly enhanced, of late years, by the introduc-tion of the dry-plate system in photography, andsince the small, light, compact cameras have beenconstructed, which may be easily and convenientlycarried wherever a man can pack his blanketsand a day's supply of food. With one of theseinstruments fine views can be taken of all interestingobjects and bits of scenery on the mountain, and ofthe surrounding country. The views are interestingand instructive to friends and to the public in gen-eral, and as souvenirs are invaluable to the author.And from the negatives thus secured lantern slidesmay be made, and from these, by the aid of thecalcium light, pictures projected on a screen thatcan only be excelled in their beauty and attractive-ness by nature herself.

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-CHAPTER II.

'ACH succeeding autumn, for years past,has found me in some range of mount-ains, camping, hunting, fishing,climbing, and taking views. Thebenefits I have derived from theseexpeditions, in the way of health,

strength, and vigor; are incalculable,nd the pleasures inexpressible. My last

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outing was in the Cascade Range, in Oregonand Washington Territory, where I spent

month in these delightful occupations, and itis with a view of encouraging and promoting a lovefor these modes of recreation that this record iswritten.

"II live not in myself, but I becomePortion of that around me; and to me

High mountains are a feeling, but the humOf human cities torture."

The Cascade Range of mountains extends fromSouthern Oregon through Washington Territory,away to the northward in British Columbia. In width,from east te west, it varies from fifty to one hundredmiles. It is the most densely-timbered range on thecontinent, and yet is one of the highest and most rug-ged. It may not possess so many ragged, shapelesscrags and dark cafions as the Rocky Range, and yeteveryone who has ever traversed both accords to the

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Cascades the distinction of being the equal, in pictur-esqueness and grandeur, of the Rockies, or, in fact,of any other range in the country. As continentallandmarks, Mounts Pitt, Union, Thielson, Jefferson,Hood, Adams, St. Helens, Tacoma, Baker, Stuart,Chiam, Douglass, and others are unsurpassed. Theirhoary crests tower to such majestic heights as to bevisible, in some instances, hundreds of miles, andtheir many glaciers feed mighty rivers upon whosebosoms the commerce of nations is borne. Mount Jef-ferson is 9,00 feet high; Mount Adams, 9,570; MountSt. Helens, 9,750; Mount Baker, 10,800, Mount Hood,11,05, and Mount Tacoma, 14,444. There are manyother peaks that rise to altitudes of 7,000 to 9,000feet, and from these figures one may readily formsomething of an idea of the general height and beautyof the Cascade Range. The foot-hills are generallyhigh, rolling, and picturesque, and so heavily tim-bered that in many places one can not see a hundredyards in any direction. Higher up the range, how-ever, this heavy timber is replaced by smaller trees,that stand farther apart, and the growth of under-brush is not so dense; consequently, the labor of travelis lightened and the range of vision is tended. Thegeological formation in the Casc,ades is varied.Igneous rock abounds; extensive basaltic cliffs andlarge bodies of granite, limestone, sandstone, etc.,are frequently met with, and nearly all the table-lands, in and about the foot-hills, are composed ofgravel drift, covered with vegetable mold. The Cas -cal es may be explored with comfort later in thefall than the Rockies or other more eastern ranges,the winter setting in on the former much later than


on the latter, although the winter rains usually comein November. September and October are the mostpleasant months for an outing in the Cascades.

It was late in October when my wife andI started from Chicago for a tour of a month amongthe bristling peaks of th,e Cascades and the pictur-esque islands of Puget Sound. A pleasant ride offifteen hours on the Wisconsin Central Railroad toSt. Paul, and another of three days and nights on thegrand. old Northern Pacific, brought us face to facewith the glittering crests and beetling cliffs that werethe objects of our pilgrimage. As the tourist goeswest, the first view of the range is obtained at theDalles of the Columbia river, from whence old MountHood, thirty-five miles distant, rears its majestichead high into the ethereal vault of heaven, andneighboring peaks, of lesser magnitude,' unfold them-selves to the enraptured vision. As the train whirlsd.own the broad Columbia river, every curve, aroundwhich we swing with dazzling speed, reveals to ourbewildered gaze new forms of beauty and newobjects of wonder. So many descriptions of thescenery along this mystic stream have been writ-ten, that every reading man, woman, and childin the land must be familiar with it, and I willnot repeat or attempt to improve upon any of them.To say the most extravagant representations are notexaggerated, is to speak truly, and no one can knowhow beautiful some of these towers and cliffs areu.ntil he has seen them.

The train arrived at Portland, that old and far-famed metropolis of the North Pacific coast, at halfpast ten o'clock in the morning, and after twenty-

30 CRITISINGS IN THE CASCADES

four hours pleasantly spent in viewing its manypoints of interest and the snow-covered mountainsthereabouts, we ag,ain boarded the Northern Pacifictrain and sped toward Tacoma, where we arrived atsix o' clock in the evening. Here we passed anotherday in looking over a booming Western city, whose4 future prosperity and greatness have been assured byits having been chosen as the tide-water terminus ofthe Northern Pacific Railway. Tacoma is situatedon Commencement Bay, an arm of Puget Sound,and has a harbor navigable for the largest oceansteamships. The vast forests of pine, fir, and cedar,with which it is surrounded, give Tacoma greatcommercial importance as a lumbering town, and therich agricultural valleys thereabout assure home pro-duction of breadstuffs, vegetables, meats, etc., suffi-cient to feed its army of workingmen. Rich coas fields,in the immediate neighborhood, furnish fuel fordomestic and manufacturing purposes at merelynominal prices. All the waters hereabouts aboundin salmon, severas varieties of trout and other food-fishes, while in the woods and mountains adjacent,elk, deer, and bears are numerous; so the place willalways be a popular resort for the sportsman andthe tourist. The chief attraction of the city, how-ever, for the traveler, will always be the fine viewit affords of Mount Tacoma. This grand old pinnacleof the Cascade Range, forty-five miles distant, lifts itssnow-mantled form far above its neighbors, which arethemselves great mountains, while its glacier-crownedsummit rises, towers, and struggles aloft 'til-

" Round its breast the rolling, clouds are spread,Eternal sunshine settles 011 its head;"

ANH OTHE'R HUNTING ADVENTURES.

and its crown is almost lost in the limitless regionsof the deep blue sky.

From the verandas of the Tacoma House one mayview Mount Tacoma until wearied with gazing. TheNorthern Pacific Railway runs within fifteen milesof the base of it, and from the nearest point a trailhas been made, at a cost of some thousands of dollars,by which tourists may ascend the mountain onhorseback, to an altitude of about 10,000 feet, withcomparative comfort; but he who goes above thatheight must work his passage. There are severalmen who claim the distinction of being the onlywhite man that has ever been to the top of thismountain. Others declare that it has been ascendedonly twice; but we have authentic information of atleast three successful and complete ascents havingbeen made. Indian legends people the mountainwith e-vil spirits, whick are said to dwell in boilingcaldrons and yawningerns-

" Calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,And airy tongues that syllable men's names."

Tradition says their wild shrieks and groans may beheard therein at all times; and no Indians are knownever to have gone any great distance up MountRainier, as they call it. White men have tried toemploy the native red men as guides and packersfor the ascent, but no amount of money can temptthem to invade the mysterious cafions and cliffswith which the marvelous pile is surrounded. Theysay that all attempts to do so, by either white orred men, must result in certain destruction.' Un-doubtedly the first ascent was made about thirtyyears ago, by General (then Lieutenant) Kautz, and

CRITISINGS IN THE CASCADES

_Lieutenant Slaughter, of the United States Army,who were then stationed at Steilacoom, WashingtonTerritory. They took pack animals, and with anescort of severas men ascended as far as the animalscould go. There they left them and continued theclimb on foot. They were gone nine days, from thetime of leaving their mules until they returned tothe animals, and claimed, no doubt justly, to havegone to the top of Liberty Cap, the highest of thethree distinct suinmits that form the triplex corona;the others being known as the Summit and theDome. The next ascent, so far as known, was madein 1876 by Mr. Hazard Stevens, who gave an accountof his experiences in the Atlantic Monthly for No-vember, of that year. In 1882, Messrs. Van Trumpand Smith, of San Francisco, made a successfulascent, and in the same year an Austrian touristwho attempted to ascend the mountain, got withinthree hundred feet of the top, when his progress wasarrested by an avalanche, and he came very nearlosing his life. Mr. L. L. Holden, of Boston, wentto within about six hundred feet of the summit in1883, and Mr. J. R. Hitchcock claims to havereached it in 1885.

From the point gained by the trail above men-tioned, the tourist inay look down upon the glaciersof the North Fork of the Puyallup River, 3,000feet below, while on the other hand, the glaciers ofthe canon of the Carbon may be seen 4,000 feetbeneath him. Away to the north, glimmering andglinting under the effulgent rays of the noondaysun, stretches that labyrinth of waters known asPuget Sound-

" 'Whose breezy waves toss up their , ilvery spray;"

e Tv- 1471.


while the many islands therein, draped in theirevergreen foliage, look like emeralds set in a sheetof silver. Many prominent landmarks in BritishColumbia are seen, while to the north and southstretches the Cascade Range, to the west the Olym-pic, and to the southwest the Coast Range. All theseare spread out before the eye of the tourist in agrand panorama unsurpassed for loveliness. CraterLake forms one of the mysteries of Mount Tacoma.About its ragged, ice-bound and rock-ribbed shoresare many dark caverns, from which the Indians con-ceived their superstitious fears of this mysteriouspile. An explorer says of one of these Chambers:

"Its roof is a dome of brilliant green, with longicicles pendant therefrom; while its floor is com-posed of the rocks and débris that formed the sideof the crater, worn smooth by the, action of waterand heated by a natural register, from which issueclouds of steam."

The grand caton of the Puyallup is two and a halfmiles wide, and from its head may be seen the great,glacier, 300 feet in thickness, which supplies thegreat volume of water that flows through the Pu-yallup river. From here no less than nine differentwaterfalls, varying in. height from 500 to 1,500 feet,are visible; and visitors are sometimes thrilled withthe magnificent spectacle of an avalanche of thou-sands of tons of overhanging ice falling with anoverwhelming crash into the caiion, roaring andreverberating in a way that almost makes the greatmountain tremble. Fed by the lake, torrents pourover the edge of the cliff, and the foaming waters,forming a perpetual veil of seemingly silver lace.

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34 CRIFISINGS IN THE CASCADES.

fall with a fearful leap into the arms of the surging-waves below. Mount Tacoma will be the futureresort of the continent, and many of its wondrousbeauties yet remain to be explored.

CHAPTER III.

HE Oregon Railway &Navigation Company's steam-, ers leave Tacoma, for Seattle,at four o'clock in the morn-

ing, and at six-thirty in theevening, so we were unable tosee this portion of the sound

until our return trip. Seattle is anotherof those rushing, pushing, thriving, West-ern towns, whose energy and dash always

surprise Eastern people. The population of the cityis 15,000 souls; it has gas-works, water-works, anda street railway, and does more business, and han-dles more money each year than many an Easterncity of 50,000 or more.

The annual lumber shipments alone aggregateover a million dollars, from ten saw-mills that costover four millions, and the value of the salmon-can-ning product is nearly a million more. The soil ofthe valleys adjacent to Seattle is peculiarly adaptedto hop-raising, and that industry is extensively car-ried .on by a large number of farmers. Some of thelargest and finest hop-ranches in the world are loca-ted in the vicinity, and their product is shipped to

(35)

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various American and European ports, over 100,000

tons having been shipped in 1888, bringing thegrowers the handsome sum of $560,327.

During the fifteen years since the beginning ofthis important cultivation, the hop crop is saidnever to have failed, nor has it been attacked bydisease, nor \deteriorated by reason of the roots beingkept on the same land without replanting. It isbelieved that the Dwamish, the White River, andthe Puyallup Valleys could easily produce as manyhops as are now raised in the United States, if laborcould be obtained to pick them. Indians have beenmainly relied upon to do the picking, and they haveflocked to the Sound from nearly all parts of theTerritory, even from beyond the mountains. Manyhave come in canoes from regions near the outlet ofthe Sound, from British Columbia, and even fromfar off Alaska, to engage temporarily in this occupa-tion; then to purchase goods and return to theirwigwams. They excel the whites in their skill aspickers, and, as a rule, conduct themselves peace-ably.

Elliot Bay, on which Seattle is built, affords a. fineharbor ad good anchorage, -while Lakes Union andWashington, large bodies of fresh watertheformer eleven and the latter eighteen feet above tidelevellie just outside the city limits, opposite.There are rich coal mines at hand, which producenearly a million dollars worth each year. Largefertile tracts of agricultural lands, in the nearvicinity, produce grain, vegetables, and fruits ofmany varieties, and in great luxuriance. Iron oreof an excellent quality abounds in the hills and


mountains back of the city, and with all thesenatural resources and advantages at her command,Seattle is sure to become a great metropolis in thenear future. The climate of the Puget Sound coun-try is temperate; snow seldom falls before Christ-mas, never to a greater depth than a few inches inthe valleys and lowlands, and seldom lies morethan a few days at a time. My friend, Mr. W.A. Perry, of Seattle, in a setter dated December 6,says:

"The weather, since your departure, has beenvery beautiful. The morning of your arrival wasthe coldest day we have had this autumn. Flowersare now blooming in the gardens, and yesterday afriend who lives at Lake Washington sent me a boxof delicious strawberries, picked from the vines inhis garden in the open air on December 4, whileyou, poor fellow, were shivering, wrapped up innumberless coats and furs, in the arctic regions ofChicago. Why don't you emigrate? There's lots ofroom for you on the Sumas, where the flowers areever blooming, where the summer never dies, wherethe good Lord sends the tyee (great) salmon to yourvery door; and where, if you want to shoot, youhave your choice from the tiny jacksnipe to thecultus bear or the lordly elk."

There are thousands of acres of natural cranberrymarshes on the shores of the sound, where this fruitgrows wild, of good quality, and in great abundance.It has not been cultivated there yet, but fortuneswill be made in that industry in the near future.

But the crowning glory of Puget Sound, and itsgreatest source of wealth, are the vast forests of

II

(38)

AND ()TITER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 39

timber. It is scarcely advisable to teTh the trtithconcerning the size to which some of the giant firsand cedars grow in this country, test I be accused of,exaggeration; but, for proof of what I say, it willonly be necessary to inquire of any resident of the:Sound country. There are hundreds of fir and cedartrees i a these woods twenty to twenty-five feet indiameter, above the spur roots, and over threehundred feet high. A cube was cut from a fir tree,n.ear Vancouver, and shipped to the Colonial Exhi-bition in London in 1886, that measured nine feet.and eight inches in thickness each way. The barkof this tree was fourteen inches thick. Anothertree was cut, trimmed to a length of three hundredand two feet, and sent to the same destination, butthis one, I am told, was only six feet through atthe butt.

From one tree cut near Seattle six saw-logs weretaken, five of which were thirty feet long, each, andthe other was twenty-four feet in leng,th. This treewas only five feet in diameter at the base, and thefirst limb grew at a height of two feet above wherethe last log was cut off, or over one hundred andseventy feet from the ground. A red cedar was cutin the same neighborhood that measured eighteenfeet in diameter six feet above the ground ; and-there is a well-authenticated case of a. man, namedHepburn, having liv-ed, in one of these cedars for overa year, while clearing up a farm. The tree was hollow,at the ground, the cavity measuring twenty-two feetin the clear and running up to a knot hole aboutforty feet above. The homesteader said a floor inthe hollow, seven or eight feet above the ground, and


placed a ladder against the wall by which to go upand down. On the floor lie built a stone fireplace,and from it to the knot hole above a stick and claychimney. He lived ups' airs and kept his horse andcow downstairs. It may be well to explain that hewas a bachelor, and thus save the reader any anxietyas to how his wife and children liked the situation.

The "Sumas Sapling " stands near Sumas Lake,northeast of Seattle. It is a hollow cedar, twenty-three feet in the clear, on the ground, and is esti-mated to be fifteen feet in diameter twenty feetabove the ground. I have, in severas instances,counted more than a hundred of these mammothtrees on an acre of land, and am informed thatone tract has been cut off that yielded over 1,000,000feet of lumber per acre. In this case the trees stoodso close together that many of the stumps had to bedug out, after the trees liad been felled, before the

-logs could be gotten out. The system of logging invogue here differs widely from that practiced inWisconsin, Michigan, Maine, and elsewhere. No.snow or ice are required here, and, in fact, if snowfalls to any considerable depth while crews are inthe woods a halt is called until it goes off.

Corduroy roads are built into the timber as fast.as required, on which the teams travel, so that it is notnecessary that the ground should be even frozen.Skids, twelve to eighteen inches thick, are said across.these roads, about nine feet apart, and sunk into theground so as to project about six inches above thesurface ; the bark is peeled off the top, they are kept.greased, and the logs are " snaked " over them withfour to seven yoke of cattle, as may be required.

AND OTHER H NTI NO A DVENTURES 41

The wealthier operators use steam locomotives and_cars, building tracks into the timber as fast and asfar as needed. This great timber belt is co-extensivewith Puget Sound, the Straits of Georgia, and theCascade Mountains. I believe that at the presentrate at which lumber is being consumed, there is fir,pine, and cedar enough in Washington Territory and_British Columbia to last the world a thousand years.

the

,

CHAPTER IV.

UGET SOUND is a g,reat inlandsea, extending nearly 200 milesfrom the ocean, having a sur-

face of about 2,000 square miles,and a shore line of 1,594 miles,

indented with numerous bays, harbors, and inlets,each with its peculiar name ; and it contains numer-ous islands inhabited by farmers, lumbermen, herds-men, and those engaged in quarrying lime and build-ing stone. Nothing can surpass the beauty of thesewaters and their safety. No t a sioal exists withinthe Sound, the Straits of Juan de Fuca, AdmiraltyBay, Hood's Canal, or the Straits of Georgia, thatwould in any way interrupt their navigation by aseventy-four-gun ship. There is no country in theworld that possesses waters equal to these. Theshores of all the inlets and bays are remarkab'y bold,so much so that a ship's side would touch theshore before her keel -would touch the ground. Thecountry by which these waters are surrounded hasa remarkably salubrious climate.

The region affords every advantage for the accom-modation of a vast commercial and military marine,with conveniences for docks, and there are a greatmany sites for towns and cities, which at all timeswould be well supplied with water, and the sur-rounding country, which is well adapted to agricult-

(42)

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-u.re, would supply all the wants of a large population.No part of the world affords finer islands, sounds,or a greater number of harbors than are found withinthese waters. They are capable of receiving thelargest class of vessels, and are without a single hid-den danger. From the rise and fall of the tide (18feet), every facility is afforded for the erection ofworks for a great maritime nation. The rivers alsofurnish hundreds of sites for water-power for manu-lacturing purposes. On this Sound are already situ-ated many thriving towns and cities, besides thosealready mentioned, bidding for the commerce of theworld.

The flora of the Sound region is varied and inter-esting. A saturated atmosphere, constantly in con-tact with the Coast Range system of upheaval, to-gether with the warm temperature, induces a growthof vegetation almost tropical in its luxuriance. Onthe better soils, the shot-clay hills and uplands, andon the alluvial plains and river bottoms, grow thegreat trees, already mentioned, and many otherspecies of almost equal beauty, though of no commer-cial value.

" The characteristic shrubs are the cornels and thespirwas, many species. These, with the low thicketsof salal (Gaulthei-ia shallon), Oregon grape (berries),and fern (chiefly pteris, which is the most abundant),and the tangle of the trailing blackberry (Rubuspedatus) make the forests almost impenetrable savewhere the ax or the wild beast or the wilder fire haveleft their trails.

" The dense shade of the forest gives little oppor-tunity for the growth of the more lowly herbs.

VIEWS ON PUGET SOUND.


Where the fire has opened these shades to the lightthe almost universal fireweed (epilobium) and thelovely brown fire-moss (lunaria) abound. In swampsand lowlands the combustion of decay, almost asquick and effective as fire itself, opens large spacesto the light ; and here abound chiefly the skunkcabbage of the Pacific coast (lysichiton) and manyforms of the lovliest mosses, grown beyond beliefsave by those who have looked upon their tropicalcongeners. Hypnums and Mniums make the greatmass which meet the eye ; and among the many lessobvious forms a careful search will reveal manyspecies characteristic of this coast alone. The lowerforms of the cryptogams, the lichens and the f ungi,abound in greatest profusion as might be expected.The chief interest in these, in the present state of ourknowledge of them, springs from their dispositionto invade the more valuable forrns of -vegetationwhich follow advancing civilization."

I measured one fungus, which I found growing uponthe decaying trunk of a mammoth fir, that was thir-teen inches thick and thirty-four inches wide. I havefrequently seen mosses growing on rotten logs, inthe deep shades of these lonely forests, that weretwelve to sixteen inches deep, and others hangingfrom branches overhead three feet or more in length.There are places in these dense forests where the treesstand so close and their branches are so intertyvinedthat the sun' s rays never reach the ground, and havenot, perhaps for centuries ; and it is but natural thatthese shade and moisture loving; plants should growto great size in such places.

The fauna of this Territory includes the elk, black-


tailed deer, Cervu? columbianus ; the mule-deer,Cervus macrotus ; the Virginia deer, Cervus virgin-ianus ; the caribou, the Rocky 1VIountain goat,Rocky Mountain sheep, the grizzly and black bear.Among the smaller mammals there are the raccoon,the cougar, wild cat, gray wolf, black wolf, prairiewolf or coyote, gray and red fox, fisher, mink,martin, Deaver, otter, sea otter, red squirrel, ermine,muskrat, sea lion, fur and hair seals, wolverine,skunk, badger, porcupine, marmot, swamp hare,jack-rabbit, etc. Of birds and wild fowls there isa long list, among which may be mentioned severalvarieties of geese and brant, including the rare andtoothsome black brant, which in season hovers inblack clouds about the sand spits ; the canvas back,red head, blue bill, teal, widgeon, shoveler, and vari-ous other ducks ; ruffed, pinnated, and blue grouse ;various snipes and plovers ; eagles, hawks, owls,woodpeckers, jays, magpies, nuthatches, warblers,sparrows, etc. There are many varieties of game andfood fishes in the Sound and its tributaries, in ad-dition to the salmon and trout already mentioned.In short, this whole country is a paradise for thesportsman and the naturalist, whatever the specialtyof either.

We left Seattle, en route for Victoria, at seveno'clock on a bright, crisp November morning. Theair was still, the bay was like a sheet of glass, andonly long, low swells were running outside. Wehad a charming view of the Cascade Mountains tothe east and the Olympics to the west, all day. Thehigher peaks were covered with snow, and the sun-light glinted and shimmered across them in playful,


cheery mood. Deep shadows fell athwart darkcarions, in whose gloomy depths we felt sure herdsof elk and deer were nipping the tender herbage,and along whose raging rivers sundry bears weredoubtless breakfasting on salmon straight. OldMount Baker' s majestic head, rising 10,800 feet aboveus and only fifty miles away, .was the most prom-inent object in the gorgeous landscape, and one onwhich we never tired of gazing. We had only tocast our eyes from the grand scene ashore to thatat our feet, and vice versa, to-

See the mountains kiss high heaven,And the waves clasp one another."

A large colony of gulls followed the steamer, withceaseless beat of downy wings, from daylight till dark,and after the first hour they seemed to regard us asold friends. They hovered about the deck like-winged spirits around a lost child. Strange birdthus to poise with tireless wing over this waterywaste day after day! Near the route of the vesselone of the poor creatures lay dead, drifting sadlyand alone on the cold waves. Mysterious creature,with-

" Lack lustre eye, and idle wing,And smirched breast that skims no more,

Hast thou not even a graveUpon the dreary silo' e,

Forlorn, forsaken thine"

Our feathered fellow-passengers greeted us withplaintive cries whenever we stepPed out of the cabin,dropping into the water in pursuit of every straybit of food that was thrown overboard from the cook-room. My wife begged several plates of stale bread.


from the steward; and, breaking it into small pieces,threw handfuls at a time into the water.

Twenty or thirty of the birds would drop in a bunchwhere the bread fell, and a lively scramble wouldensue for the coveted food. The lucky ones wouldquickly corral it, however, when the whole flight,

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OUR FEATHERED FELLOW PASSFSHiERS.

rising again, would follow and soon overtake thevessel. Then they would cluster around their patron,cooing, and coaxing for more of the welcome bounty.I took out my detective camera and -made a numberof exposures on the gulls, which resulted very satis-factoril y. Many of the prints show them sadly outof focus, but this was una voidable, as I focused at


twenty feet, and of course all that were nearer orfarther away, at the instant of exposure, are notsharp. Many, however, that were on wing at thetime of making the exposure, and at the proper dis-tance from the lens, are clearly and sharply cut.

These pictures form a most interesting study forartists, anatomists, naturalists, and others, thewings being shown in every position assumed by thebirds in flight. The shutter worked at so high apressure that only one or two birds in the entireseries show any movement at all, and they are butvery slightly blurred. When we consider that thesteamer, as well as the gulls, was in motionrun-ning ten miles an hourtrembling and vibratingfrom stem to stern, and that, in many cases, thebirds were going in an opposite direction from thatof the vessel, the results obtained are certainly mar-velous. It may interest some of my readers toknow that I used an Anthony detective camera,making a four-by-five-inch picture, to which is fitteda roll holder, and in all the work done on this trip,I used negative paper. I also obtained, en route,several good views of various islands, and points ofinterest on the mainland, while the boat was inmotion.

There are many beautiful scenes in and about theSound; many charming islands, clothed in evergreenfoliage, from whose interiors issue clear, sparklingbrooks of fresh water ; while the mainland shoresrise abruptly, in places, to several hundreds of feet,bearing their burdens of giant trees. There are per-pendicular cut banks on many of the islands andthe mainland shores, thirty, forty, or fifty feet high,

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almost perpendicular, made so by the hungry waveshaving eaten away their foundations, and the earthhaving fallen into the brine, leaving exposed barewalls of sand and gravel. On Whidby Island, oneof the largest in the Sound, there was, up to a fewyears ago, a herd of wild cattle, to which no onemade claim of ownership, and which were, conse-quently, considered legitimate game for anyonewho cared to hunt them. They were wary and cun-ning in the extreme. The elk or deer, native and tothe manor born, could not be more so. But, alas,these cattle were not to be the prey of true, consci-entious sportsmen; for the greed of the markethunter and the skin hunter exceeded the naturalcunning of the noble animals, and they have beennearly exterminated; only ten or twelve remain, andthey will soon ha ve to yield up their lives to theinsatiable greed of those infamous butchers.

One of the most curious and interesting points inthe sound is Deception Pass. This is a narrow chan-nel or passage between two islands, only fifty yardswide, and about two hundred yards long. On eitherside rise abrupt and towering columns of basaltic rock,and during both ebb and flow the tide runs throughit, between Padilla and Dugalla Bays, with all thewild fury and bewildering speed of the maelstrom.This pass takes its name from the fact of therebeing three coves nearon the west coast ofWhidby Islandthat look so much like Deceptionthat they are often mistaken for it at night or dur-ing foggy weather, even by experienced navigators.All the skill and care of the best pilots are requiredto make the pass in safety, and the bravest of them

52 CRITISINGS IN THE CASCADES.

heave a sigh of relief when once its beetling cliffsand seething abysses are far astern. Gulls hoverabout this weird place, and eagles soar above it at allhours, as if admiring its pristine beauties, yet insuperstitious awe of the dark depths. Mount Erie,two miles away, rising to a height of 1,300 feet, castingits deep shadows across the pass and surroundingwaters, completes a picture of rare beauty andgrandeur.

We reached Victoria, that quaint, old, aristocratic,ultra-English town, just as the sun was sinkingbeneath the waves, that rolled restlessly on the surfaceof Juan de Fuca Strait. We were surprised to seeso substantial and well-built a town as this, andone possessing so much of the air of age and inde-pendence, so far north and west. One might readilyimagine, from the exterior appearance of the cityand its surroundings, that he were in the provinceof Quebec instead of that of British Columbia. Mywife felt that she must not remain longer away fromhome at present, and we were to part here; there-fore, in the early morning she embarked for home,while I transferred my effects and self to the steamerPrincess Louise, bound for Burrard Inlet.

CHAPTER V.

daylight in the morning we entered EnglishBay, having crossed the strait during thenight. The sun climbed up over the snow-mantled mountains into a cloudless sky, -and his rays were reflected from the limpid,tranquil surface of the bay:

" Blue, d.u.kly, deeply, beautifully blue,"

as if from the face of a mirror. A fewmiles to the east, the triple-mouthed Frazer

empties its great volume of fresh, cold, glacier-tinted fluid into the briny inland sea, and itsdelta, level as a floor, stretches back many mileson either side of the river to the foot-hills of theCascades. Thousands of ducks sat idly and lazilyin the water, sunning themselves, pruning theirfeathers, and eyeing us curiously but fearlessly,as we passed, sometimes within twenty-five . orthirty yards of them. A few geese crossed hitherand thither, in low, long, dark lines, uttering theirfamiliar honk, honk; but they were more warythan their lesser cousins, and kept well out of range.I asked the purser if there was any rule againstshooting on board, and he said no; to go down onthe after main deck, and shoot until I was tired. Itook my Winchester express from the case, wentbelow and opened on the ducks. They at once found

(53)


it necessary to get out of the country, and theirmotion, and that of the vessel combined, caused meto score several close misses, but I finally found thebull's-eye, so to speak, and killed three in rapid suc-cession. Then the mate came down and said:

" We don't allow no one to be firin' off guns onboard."

"I have the purser's permission," I said." Well," he replied, " the captain's better author-

ity than the purser on this here boat," whereuponhe returned to the cabin deck, and.so did I. I wasnot seriously disappointed, however, for I caredlittle for the duck shooting; I was in quest of largergame, and only wanted to practice a little, to renewacquaintance and familiarity with my weapon.Early in the day we entered Burrard Inlet, a narrow,crooked, and peculiarly shaped arm of the salt water,that winds and threads its way many miles backinto the mountains, so narrow in places, that a boymay cast a stone across it, and yet so deep as to benavigable for the largest ocean steamship. The inletis so narrow and crooked that a stranger, sailing intoit for the first time, would pronounce it a great rivercoming down from the mountains. Through thispicturesque body of water our good boat cleft theshadows of the overhanging mountains until nearlynoon, when we landed at Vancouver, the terminusof the Canadian Pacific Railway. In consequence ofthis important selection, the place is a busy mart oftrade. The clang of saw and hammer, the rattle ofwheels, the general din of a building boom, are suchas to tire one's nerves in a few hours. Later in theday we reached Port Moody. This town was origi-

AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES 55

:nally designated as the tide-water terminus of theroad, and had its brief era of prosperity and specu-lation in consequence; but now that the plan hasbeen changed it has been reduced to a mere way,station, and has relapsed into the dullest kind of

From here I staged across the divide to NewWèstminster, on the Frazer river, the home of Mr.J. C. Hughs, who had invited, me there to huntRocky Mountain goats with him. I was grievedbeyond measure, however, to learn on my arrival thathe was dangerously ill, and went at once to hishouse, but he was unable to see me. He sank rapidlyfrom the date of his first illness, died two days aftermy arrival, and I therefore found myself in a strangeland, with no friend or acquaintance to whom I,could go for information or advice.

My first object, theref ore, was to find a guide to take-me into the mountains, and although I found severaspretended sportsmen, I could hear of no one who had,ever killed a goat, except poor Hughs, and a Mr.Fannin, who had formerly lived there, but had latelymoved away, so of course no one knew where I could.get a guide. Severa l business men, of whom I askedinformation, inquired at once where I was from, and.on learning that I was an American, simply said " Idon't know," and were, or at least pretended to be,too busy to talk with me. They seemed to have nouse for people from this side of the boundary line,and this same ill-feeling toward my Nation (with abig N) was shown me in other places, and on variousoccasions, while in the province. I found, however,qpne gracious exception, in New Westminster, in the


person of Mr. C. G. Major; a merchant, who, the mo-ment I made known to him my wish, replied:

" Well, sir, the best guide and the best hunter inBritish Columbia left here not three minutes ago.He is an Indian who lives on Douglass Lake, and Ithink I can get him for you. If I can, you are fixedfor a good and successful hunt."

This news, and the frank, manly, cordial greetingthat carne with it, were surprising to me, after thetreatment I had been receiving. Mr. Major invitedme into his private office, gave me a chair by the fire,and sent out a messenger to look for " Douglass Bill,"the Indian of whom he had spoken. This importantpersonage soon came in. Mr. Major told him whatI wanted, and it took but a few minutes to makea bargain. He was a solid, well-built Indian, liadan intelligent face, spoke fair English, and had thereputation of being, as Mr. Major had said, an excel-lent hunter. Mr. Major further said he consideredBill one of the most honest, truthful Indians he hadever known, and that I could trust him as implicitlyas I could any white man in the country.

This arrangement was made on Saturday night,but Bill said he could not start on the hunt untilWednesday morning, as his mother-in-law had justdied, and he must go and help to bury her on Tues-day. The funeral was to take place on the Chiluk-weyuk river, a tributary of the Frazer, about fiftymiles above New Westminster, and it was arrangedthat I should go up on the steamer, and meet him atthe mouth of Harrison river, another tributarystream, on Wednesday morning. We were then togo up the Harrison to the hunting grounds. I was

AND OTHER, HUNTING ADVENTURES. 57

delighted at the prospect of a successful hunt, withso good a guide, and cheerfully consented to waitthe necessary three days for the red man to performthe last sad rites of his tribe over the remains ofthe departed kloochman, but I was doomed to dis-appointment.

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CHAPTER VI.

OR many years I had read, heard, anddreamed of the Frazer, that mysteriousstream which flows out from amongthe icy fastnesses of the Cascades, inthe far-off confines of British Columbia.For many years had I longed to seewith my own eyes some of the grand

scenery of the region it drains, and now,at last, that mighty stream flowed at my

feet. How eagerly I drank in the beauty ofthe scene ! How my heart thrilled at the

thought that I stood face to face with this landof my dreams and was about to explore a portion,at least, of the country in which this great river

rises. The beautiful lines penned by Maria Brooks,on the occasion of her first visit to the St. Law-rence, came vividly to my mind :

"The first time I beheld thee, beAuteous stream,How pure, how smooth, how broad thy bosom heaved;

What feelings rushed upon my heart! a gleamAs of another life my kindling soul received."

I left New Westminster at seven o' dock Mondaymorning on the steamer Adelaide, for the mouth ofHarrison river, sixty miles up the Frazer. Therewere over twenty Indians on board, going up to themouth of the Chilukweyuk, to attend the fnneral of

Douglass Bill's deceased relative. As sn as I(59)

60 CIHTISINGS IN THE CASCADES

learned their destination I inquired if he wereamong them, but they said he was not. He hadcome aboard before we left, but for some reason haddecided to go on another boat that left half an hourahead of the Adelaide. The voyage proved intenselyinteresting. The Frazer is from a quarter to half amile wide, and is navigable for large steamers for ahundred miles above its mouth. There are portionsof the valley that are fertile, thickly settled, andwell cultivated. The valleys of some of its tribu-taries are also good farming districts, and grain,fruits, and vegetables of various kinds grow inabundance. At the mouth of the Chilukweyuk Isaw fine peaches that had grown in the valley, with-in ten miles of perpetual snow. The river becamevery crooked as we neared the mountains, andfinally we entered the gorge, or carion, where therocky-faced mountains rise, sheer from the water'sedge, to heights of many hundreds of feet, and justback of them tower great peaks, clad in eternalsnows. The little camera was again brought intorequisition and, as we rounded some of these pic-turesque bends and traversed some of the beautifulreaches, I secured many good views, though the daywas cloudy and lowery. The boat being in motion,I was, of course, compelled to make the shortestpossible exposures, and was, therefore, unable to getfine details in the shadows; yet many of the printsturned out fairly well.

We saw several seals in the river on the way up,and the captain informed me that at certain seasonsthey were quite plentiful in the Frazer and all thelarger streams in the neighborhood. They go up

AND OTIIER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 61

the Frazer to the head of navigation and he couldnot say how much farther. He said that on oneoccasion a female seas and her young were seensporting in the water ahead of the steamer, and thatwhen the vessel came within about fifty yards theyclove. Nothing more was seen of the puppy, andthe captain thought it must have been caught inthe wheel and killed, for the mother followed thevessel severas miles, whining, looking longingly,pitifully, and beseechingly at the passengers andcrew. She would swim around and around thesteamer, coming close up, showing no fear for herown safety, whatever, but seeming to beg them togive back her baby. She appeared to have lost sightof it entirely, whatever its fate, and to think it hadbeen captured and taken on board. Her moaningand begging, her intense grief, were pitiable in theextreme, and brought tears to the eyes of stout,brawny men. Finally she seemed completelyexhausted with anguish and her exertions and grad-ually sank out of sight. My informant said hehoped never to witness another such sight.

We arrived at the niouth of Harrison river at sixo'clock in the evening. There is a little Indian vil-lage there called by the same name as the river, andMr. J. Barker keeps a trading post on the reserva-tion, he being the only white man living there. Hemade me welcome to the best accommuflations hisbachelor quarters afforded, but said the°. 4only sleep-ing-room he had was full, as two friends from downthe river were stopping with him for the night, andthat I would have to lodge with one of the Indianfamilies. He said there was one kloochman (the

62 CI:UFA:SINGS IN THE CASCADES

Chinook word for squaw) who was a remarkablyneat, cleanly housekeeper, who liad a spare room,and who usually kept any strangers that wished tostop over night in the village. While we were talk-ing the squaw in question carne in and Mr. Barkersaid to her:

Mary, yah-kwa Boston man tik-eh moo-summe-si-ka house po-lak-le." (Here is an Americanwho would like to sleep in your house to-night.)To which she replied:

" Yak-ka hy-ak " (he can come), and the bargainwas closed.

I remained at the store and talked with Mr.Barker and his friends until ten o'clock, when hetook a lantern and piloted me over to the Indianrancherie, where I was to lodge. I took my sleeping-bag with me and thanked my stars that I did, fornotwithstanding the assurances given me by goodMr. Barker that the Indian woman was as good ahousekeeper as the average white woman, I wasafraid of vermin. I have never known an-Indian tobe without the hemipterous little insect, Pediculus(huntanus) capitis. Possibly there may be someIndians who do not wear them; I simply say I havenever had the pleasure of knowing one, and I haveknown a great many, too. I seriously doubt if onehas ever yet lived many days at a time de-void of thecompanionship of these pestiferous little creatures.In fact, an Indian and a louse are natural allies--boon companionsand are as inseparable as theboarding-house bed and the bedbug. The red manis so inured to the ravages of his parasitic com-panion, so accustomed to have him rustling


around on his person and foraging for grub, that hepays little or no attention to the insect, and seemshardly to feel its bite.

You will rarely see an Indian scratch his head or,in fact, any portion of his person, as a white man_does when he gets a bite. Lo gives forth no outwardsign that he is thickly settled, and it is only whenhe sits or lies down in the hot sun that the inhab-itants of his hair and clothing come to the front;then you may see them crawling about like roachesin a hotel kitchen. Or, when he has lain down on aboard, or your tent canvas, or any light-colored sub-stance and got up and gone away, leaving some ofhis neighbors behind, then you know he islikeothers of his racethe home of a large colony ofinsects.

When Mary and her husband, George, saw myroll of bedding, which they supposed to be simplyblankets, they protested to Mr. Barker that I wouldnot need. them, that there was hy-iu mit-Iite pa-se-se" (plenty of covering on the bed). I told them,however, that I could sleep better in my ownblankets and preferred. to use them. I took thebundle into my room, spread the sleeping-bag unthe bed and_ crawled into it. The outer covering ofthe bag being of thick, hard canvas, I hoped itwould prove au effectual barmier against theassaults of the vermin, and_ that they might not findthe portal by which I entered, and BO it proved.

George and Mary live in a very well-built, conafort-able, one-story frame cottage, divided into two rooms;the kitchen, dining-room, parlor and family sleeping-room all in one, and the spare room being the other..

"

64 CRUItINGS IN THE CASCADES

The house has four windows and one door, a shingleroof and a board floor. They have a cooking-stove,several chairs, a table, cupboard, etc. The bedsteadon which I slept was homemade, but neat and sub-stantial. It was furnished with a white cotton tick,

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GEORGE AD mAny.

filled with straw, feather pillows, several clean-look-ing blankets, and a pair of moderately clean cottonsheets. I have slept in much worse-looking bedsin hotels kept by white people.

This Indian village, Harrison river, or Skowlitz,as the Indians call both the river and the village, iscomposed of about twenty families, living in houses


of about the same class and of the same general designas the one described, although some are slightlylarger and better, while others are not quite so good.All have been !milt by white carpenters, or thegreater part of the work was done by them, and thehimber and other materials were manufactured bywhite men. one of the dwellings have ever beenpainted inside or out, but there is a neat missionchurch in the village that has been honored with acoat of white paint. There are a few log shacksstanding near, that look very much as if they hadbeen built by native industry. The frame houses, Iam informed, were erected by the Government andthe church by the Catholic Missionary Society.

--t _,=-7 se

5

- CHAPTER VII.

vas not compelled to eat with George andMary, for Mr. Barker had kindly invited

Irme to breakfast with him, and when Ireached his store, at the breakfast hourin the morning, I found a neat inviting-looking table in the room back of thestore, loaded with broiled ham, bakedpotatoes, good bread and butter, a pot ofsteaming coffee, etc.; all of which weenjoyed intensely. Mr. Barker informed

me there was a cluster of hot springs ten miles upthe river, at the foot of Harrison Lake, the source ofHarrison river, near which a large hotel had latelybeen built. Upon inquiry as to a means of gettingup there, I learned that he had employed a coupleof Indians to take some freight up that morning ina canoe, and that I could probably secure a passagewith them. As Harrison Lake, or rather the mount-ains surrounding it, were the, hunting-groundswhich Douglass Bill had selected, and as we wouldhave to pass these hot springs en route, I decidedto go there and wait for him. I therefore arrangedwith Barker to send him up to the springs, when heshould call for me at the store, and took passagein the freight canoe.

The Harrison river is a large stream that cuts itsway through high, rugged mountains, and the water

(66)


has a pronounced milky tinge. imparted by the gla-ciers from which its feeders come, away back in theCascades. It is a famous salmon stream, and thou-sands of these noble fishes, of mammoth size, thathad_ lately gone up the river and into the smallcreeks to spawn, having died from disease, or hav-ing been killed in the terrible rapids they had toencounter, were lying dead on every sand bar,lodged against every stick of driftwood, or wereslowly floating in the current. Their carcasses linedthe shore all along the lower portion of the river,and the hogs, of which the Indians have large num-bers, were feasting on the putrid masses as vora-ciously as if they had been ears of new, sweet corn.The stench emitted by these festering bodies wasnauseating in the extreme; and the water, ordinarlyso pure and palatable, was now totally unfit for use.I counted over one hundred of these dead fishes on asingle sand bar of less than half an acre in extent.Cruising amid such surroundings was anything butpleasant, and I was glad the current was slow hereso that, though going up stream, we were able tomake good progress, and soon got away from thisnauseating sight.

About a mile above the village we rounded a bendin the river, where it spread out to nearly a quarterof a mile in width, and on a sand bar in the middleof the stream, sat a flock of geese. I picked up myrifle and took a shot at them, but the ball cut a ditchin the water nearly fifty yards this side, and went-singing over their heads into the woods beyond.They did not seem to enjoy such music, and takingwing started for some safer feeding-ground, carrying

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on a lively conversation in goose Latin, probablyabout any fool who would try to kill geese at thatdistance. I turned loose on them again, and in abouta second after pulling the trigger one of them seemedto explode, as if hit by a dynamite bomb. For a fewseconds the air was full of fragments of goose, whichrained down into the water like a shower of autumnleaves. My red companions enjoyed the result of thisshot hugely, and a canoe load of Indians from upriver, who were passing at the time, set up a regularwar whoop. We pulled over and got what was left ofthe goose, and found that my express bullet hadcarried away all his stern rigging, his rudder, oneof his paddles, and a considerable portion of hishull. The water was covered with fragments of sail,provisions of various kinds, and sundry bits of cargoand hull. Charlie picked up so much of the wreckas hung together, and said in his broken, laconicEnglish:

" Dat no good goose gun. Shoot him too muchaway."

There were plenty of ducks, coots, grebes, andgulls on the river, and I had fine sport with themwhenever I cared to shoot.

A mile above where I killed the goose we entereda long reach of shoal rapids, where all the brawnand skill of the Indians were required to stem thepowerful current and the immense volume of water.The rapids are over a mile long, and it took us nearlytwo hours to reach their head. As soon as we werewell into them we came among large numbers of live,healthy salmon. Many of them weres runnixig downthe stream, some up, while others seemed not to be

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going anywhere in particular, but just loafingaround, enjoying themselves. They were wild, but,owing to the water being so rough and rapid, wefrequently got within two or three feet of thembefore they saw us, and the Indians killed two largeones with their canoe poles. Occasionally we wouldcorner a whole school of them in some little pocket,where the water was so shallow that their dorsal finswould stick out, and where there was no exit but bypassing close to the canoe. When alarmed theywould cavort around like a herd of wild mustangsin a corral, until they would churn the water into afoam; then, emboldened by their peril, they wouldflash out past us with the velocity of an arrow.They were doing a great deal of jumping; frequentlya large fish, two or three feet long, would start acrossthe stream, and make four or five long, high leapsout of the water, in rapid succession, only remain-ing in the water long enough after each jump to gainmomentum for the next. I asked Charlie why theywere doing this, if they were sick, or if somethingwas biting them.

"No," he said. "Play. All same drunkraisehell!"

These salmon run up the rivers and creeks todeposit their spawn, and seem possessed of an insanedesire to get as far up into the small brooks as theypossibly can. They frequently pursue their madcourse up over boiling, foaming, roaring rapids, andabrupt, perpendicular falls, where it would seemimpossible for any living creature to goregardlessof their own safety or comfort. They are often foundin dense schools in little creeks away up near their


sources, where there is not water enough to covertheir bodies, and where they become an easy prey toman, or to wild beasts. In such cases, Indians killthem with spears and sharp sticks, or even catch andthrow them out with their hands.

Or if their journeyings take them among farms orranches, as is often the case, the people throw themout on the banks with pitch-forks, and after supply-ing their household necessities, they cart the noblefish away and feed them to their hogs, or even usethem to fertilize their fields. I have seen salmonwedged into some of the small streams until you couldalmost walk on them. The banks of many creeks,far up in the foot-hills, are almost wholly composedof the bones of salmon. In traveling through densewoods I have often heard, at some distance ahead,a loud splashing and general commotion in water,as if of a dozen small boys in bathing. This would,perhaps, be the first intimation I had that I was nearwater, and, on approaching the source of the noise,I have found it to have been made by a school ofthese lordly salmon, wedged into one of the littlestreams, t Ilrashing the creek into suds in their effortsto get to its head.

After depositing their spawn the poor creatures,already half dead from bruises and exhaustionincurred in their perilous voyage up stream, begin todrift down. But how different, now, from the bright,silvery creatures that once darted like rays of livinglight through the sea. Unable to control their move-ments in the descent, even as well as in the ascent,they drift at the cruel mercy of the stream. Theyare driven against rough bow lders, submerged logs


and snags, or through raging rapids by the fury ofthe torrent, until hundreds, yes thousands, of themare killed outright, and thousands more die fromsheer exhaustion.

I have seen salmon with their noses broken andtorn off; others with a lower jaw torn away; somewith sides, backs, or bellies bruised and bleeding;others with their tails whipped and split into shreds,and still others with their entrails torn out bysnags. In this sad plight they are beset at everyturn in the river by their natural enemies. Bears,cougars, minks, wild cats, fishers, eagles, hawks,and worst and most destructive of all, men, awaitthem everywhere, and it would be strange,indeed, if one in each thousand that left the saltwater should live to return. The few that do so,are, of course, so weak that they fall an easy preyto the seals, sharks, and other enemies, that waitwith open mouths to engulf them. So, all the leap-ing, rushing multitude that entered the river a fewmonths ago, have, ere this, gone to their doom, buttheir seed is planted in the icy brook, far away inthe mountains, :and their young will soon come forthto take the place of the parents that have passedaway. The instinct of reproduction must, indeed,be an absorbing passion in poor dumb creatures,when they will thus sacrifice life in the effort todeposit their ova where the offspring may best bebrought into being.

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CHAPTER VIII.

BOYE the rapids we had a lovely reachof river, from a quarter to half a

mile wide, with no perceptible cur-rent. Impelled by our united efforts,our light cedar canoe shot over thewater as lightly and almost as

6 swiftly as the gulls above us spedthrough the air. I took one of thepoles and used it while the In-dians plied their paddles, and for

distance of nearly two miles the depth ofwater did not vary two inches from four and a halffeet. The bottom was composed of a hard, whitesand, into which the pole, with my weight on it,sunk less than an inch; in fact, the current is soslight, the width of the river so great, and the gen-eral character of the water such, that it might all betermed a lake above the falls; though the foot ofthe lake, as designated on the map, has a stillgreater widening five miles above the head of thefalls.

Abrupt basaltic walls, 500 to 1,000 feet high andnearly perpendicular, rise from the water's edgeon either side. On the more sloping faces ofthese, vegetation has obtained root-room, littlebunches of soil have formed, and various ever-greens, alders, water hazels, etc., grow vigorously.

(75)

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AND OTHER HUNTINGr ADVENTURES. 77

Half a foot of snow had lately fallen on the tops ofthese mountains, and a warm, southwest wind andthe bright sun were now sending it down into theriver in numerous plunging streams of crystal fluid.For thousands of years these miniature torrents have,at frequent intervals, tumbled down here, and in allthat time have worn but slight notches in the rockywalls.

Shrubs have grown up along and over thesesmall waterways, and as the little rivulets comecoursing down, dodging hither and thither under over-hanging clumps of green foliage, leaping from cragto crag and curving from right to left and from leftto right, around and among frowning projections ofinvulnerable rock, glinting and sparkling in the sun-light, they remind one of silvery satin ribbons, tossedby a summer breeze, among the brown tresses ofsome winsome maiden. I took several views of theselittle waterfalls, but their transcendent beauty cannot be intelligently expressed on a little four-by-fivesilver print.

Several larger streams also put into the Harrison,that come from remote fastnesses, and seem to carvetheir way through great mountains of granite. Theirshores are lined with dense growths of conifers, andafford choice retreats for deer, bears, and other wildanimals.

At three o'clock in the afternoon we rounded ahigh point of rocks that jutted out into the river,and another beautiful picture--another surprise, inthis land of surprises--lay before us. HarrisonLake, nestling among snowy peaks and dotted withbasaltic islands, reflected in its peaceful depths the

CRITISINGS IN THE CASCADES

surrounding mountains as clearly as though itsplacid surface had been covered with quicksilver.This lake is about forty miles long, is fed by theLillooet river and numerous smaller streams. Silvercreek, which comes in on the west side, twenty milesnorth of the hot springs, is a beautiful mountainstream of considerable size. A quarter of a mileabove its mouth, it makes a perpendicular fall ofover sixty feet. It is one of the most beautiful fallsin the country. Near the head of the lake, and infull view from the springs, old Mount Douglass, ciadin perpetual snow and glacial ice, towers into theblue sky until its brilliancy almost dazzles one'seyes. Though forty miles away, one who did notknow would estimate the distance at not more thanfive, so clearly are all the details of the grand pictureshown. It is said that from the glaciers on this peakcome the streams whose waters give their peculiarmilky cast to Harrison Lake and Harrison river.Near the base of Mount Douglass is an Indian villageof the same name, and the Hudson Bay Fur Com-pany formerly had a trading post in the neighbor-hood, which they called Fort Douglass. This Indianvillage is the home of my prospective guide, andfrom it he has adopted his unpoetic cognomen.

Hall a mile to the right of where we entered thelake, the famous hot springs, already mentioned, boilout from under the foot of a mountain, and dischargetheir steaming fluid into the lake. The curativepower of these waters has been known to the nativesfor ages past, and the sick have come from all direc-tions, and from villages many miles away, tobathe in the waters and be healed. All about the


place are remains of Indian encampments, medicinelodges, etc. The tribes in this vicinity are greatlyexercised over the fact of the white man havinglately asserted ownership of their great sanitarium,and having assumed its control. Mr. J. R. Brownhas erected over the springs a large bath-house, andnear that a commodious hotel. He has cut a roadthrough a pass in the mountains to Agassiz station,on the Canadian Pacific Rail way, five miles distant,so that the springs may now be easily reached byinvalids wishing to test their curative properties.Soon after my arrival at the springs, I climbed themountain to the east of the hotel, and passed thetime pleasantly, until .sunset, viewing the' beautifulscenery in the neighborhood.

On the following morning I took a boat and rowedup the east shore of the lake, in hope of getting a shotat a deer, but though I saw plenty of fresh signs allalong the shore no game was visible. I spent theafternoon looking anxiously for my promised guide,but he came not. I again amused myself, however,taking views of the scenery, but found on develop-ing the negatives that I had not been eminently suc-cessful with either Mount Douglass or Mount Chiam.Snowy mountains are about the most difficult objectsin all nature to photograph, especially if you attemptto include anything beside, the snowy peaks in thepicture ; for they are so intensely white, and the skyor even clouds that form the background are so lightand afford so slight contrast, that it is next to itnpossi-ble to get good sharp pictures of them. The landscapeabout the mountains is sure to offer some dark objects,perhaps deep shadows, and even the mountain itself


nearly always has bare rocks and dark, gloomy earl-ons, and to get these and the dazzling whiteness of thesnow and ice on the same plate is decidedly difficult.Of course we see many fine photographs of snow-cov-ered mountains, but if taken with a clear sky or withlight clouds for background, there is generally moreor less retouching necessary, and more or less doctor-ing in printing, with tissue paper, glass screens, etc.,in order to obtain the rev lts we see in the prints. Imade some fair views of both these peaks, but notsuch as an enthusiastic amateur might wish. Of thelower mountains, where at that time there was nosnow, of the lake, the islands, etc., I got very sat-isfactory pictures. I went up the road, toward therailway station, a mile or more, where it passesthrough one of those grand forests for which thiscountry is so famous, where-

" Those green-robed senators of mighty woodsDream, and so dream an night without a stir."

There I made views of some of the giant cedars, thedense moss-hung jungles, the great fir trees, etc. Inthese dark, densely-shaded woods I had. to take offthe flying shutter and make time exposures. I gavethree to five seconds to each plate. In the printsthe trees and other objects nearest to the lens are ofcourse over-exposed, but the details in the shadowsand objects in the extreme distance are clearly andbeautifully brought out. For these time exposuresI placed the camera on some convenient log, stump,or stone, in lieu of a tripod. In two instances I seatedthe rear end of the instrument on the ground, withthe lens bearing up through the tops of the trees.The whitened trunk and broken, straggling arms of


one great old dead firone that has flourished inthis rich soil and drawn sustenance from the moist,ozone-laden atmosphere of these mountains for hun-dreds of years, but has lived out his time and is nowgoing the way of all things earthlyforms the sub-ject of one of the best and most interesting picturesof the whole series. The tops of several other treesbirch, maple, etc., that stood near the firare alsoshown in the picture. It can best be seen and appre-ciated by holding it above your head, looking up atit, and imagining youiself there in the forest, look-ing up through the tops of the giant trees into theblue ethereal dome of heaven.

CHAPTER IX.

N the morning I got up early to look for Douglass Bill, thinking and hoping he mighthave landed during the night, but no onehad seen him and there was no strangecanoe in the harbor. After breakfast,in order to kill time, I climbed themountain east of the hotel to a height ofabout a thousand feet. It is heavilytimbered, and I found plenty of freshdeer-signs' within plain sound of the

hammers wielded by the carpenters at work on thehotel, but failed to get a shot. I returned ateleven o'clock, but Bill had not yet shown up.Three other Indians were there, however, withthree deer in their canoe, which they had killedon the op.posite side of the lake the day before. Inow concluded that Mr. 1VIajor's confidence in Billwas misplaced ; that he was not going to keep hiscontract, and was, in short, as treacherous, as unre-liable, and as consummate a liar as other Indians ;so I entered into negotiations with these three Indi-ans to get one or two of them to go with me. But theyhad planned a trip to New Westminster, to sell theirvenison, and I could not induce any one of them togo, though I offered big wages, and a premium oneach head of game I might kill, besides. They saidthat if I wished they would take me to their village-

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which is five miles down the riverand that therewere several good goat hunters there whom I couldget. I accepted their offer of transportation, steppedinto the canoe, and we pulled out. As we enteredthe shoal water in the river I asked for a pole, andimpelled by it and the three paddles we sped downthe stream at a rapid rate.

There was a cold, disagreeable rain falling and achilly north wind blowing. This storm had broughtclouds of ducks into the river, among them severalflocks of canvas backs. The Indians, who were usingsmooth-bore muskets, killed several of these tooth-some fowls. One flock rose ahead of us and starteddirectly down the river, but by some kind of nativeintuition the Indians seemed to know that they wouldcome back up the opposite shore. They droppedtheir guns, caught up the paddles and plied themwith such force that every stroke fairly lifted thelight cedar canoe out of the water, and we shot acrossthe river with the speed of a deer. Sure enough,after flying a hundred yards down stream theducks turned and, hugging the shore, undertook topass up the river on the other side, but we cut themoff, so that they had to pass over our heads. Atthis juncture the two muskets carried by the twoyoung men cracked and three canvas backs dropped,limp and lifeless, into the water within a few feetof us.

We arrived at the hut occupied by this family atnoon. It stands on the bank of the river, half a mileabove the village of Chehalis, and as we pulled up,two old and two young squaws and nine small Indi-ans, some of them mere papooses in arms (but not


in long clothesin fact, not in any clothes worth men-tioning), came swarming out to meet us. Their abodewas a shanty about twelve feet square, made by set-ting four corner posts into the ground, nailing cross-ribs on, and over these clapboards riven from thenative cedars, and the roof was of the same material.The adult members of this social alliance had beenengaged in catching and drying salmon during therecent run; the heads, entrails and backbones of whichhad been dumped into the river at their very door.There being no current near the shore they had sunkin barely enough water to cover them, and lay thererotting and poluting the water used by the familyfor drinking and cooking. Cart-loads of this offalwere also lying about the dooryard, and had beentrampled into and mixed up with the mud until thewhole outfit stunk like a tanyard.

Within was a picture of filth and squalor thatbeggars description. The floor of the hut was ofmother earth. A couple of logs with two clapboardslaid across them formed the only seats. On one sidewas a pile of brush, hay, and dirty, filthy blankets,indiscriminately mixed, on which the entire threefamilies slept, presumably in the same fashion. Nearthe centre of the hut a small fire straggled for exist-ence, and that portion of the smoke that was notabsorbed by the people, the drying fish and otherobjects in the room, escaped through a hole in thecentre of the roof. The children, barefooted and half-naked, came in out of the rain, mud, and fish carrion,in which they liad been tramping about, and sat orlay on the ground about the fire, looking as happyas a litter of pigs in a mud hole. On poles, attached


by cedar wines to the rafters, were hung severalhundred salmon, absorbing smoke, carbonic acid gasfrom the lungs of the human beings beneath, andsteam from the cooking that was going on. It isunderstood that after this process has been prolongedfor some weeks these once noble fishes will be fit forthe winter food of the Siwash.

Some of the houses in Chehalis are neat framecottages ; in fact, it is a better-built town, on thewhole, than the village of Harrison River alreadydescribed ; but these better houses all stand backabout a quarter of a mile from the river, and theinhabitants have left them and gone into the " fish-houses," the clapboard structures, on the immediateriver bank. Some of these shanties are much largerthan the one mentioned above, and in some casesfour, five, or even six families hole up in one ofthese filthy dens during the fish-curing season.

As a matter of fact, there are salmon of one varietyor another in these larger rivers nearly all the year,but sometimes the weather is too cold, too wet, orotherwise too disagreable in winter for the noble redman to fish with comfort, and hence all these prep-arations for a rainy day. After the fishes are curedthey are hung up in big out-houses set on posts, orin some cases built high up in the branches of trees, inorder to be entirely out of the reach of rats, minks,or other vermin, and the members of the communedraw from the stock at will. The coast Indians livealmost wholly on fish, and seem perfectly happywithout flesh, vegetables, or bread, if such be not athand, though they can eat plenty of all these whenset before them. If one of them kills a deer he sel-


dom or never eats more of it than the liver, heart,lungs, etc. He sells the carcass, if within a threedays' voyage of a white man who will buy venison.

One of the young men already mentioned went with

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SALMON BOXES IN TREES.

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me down to one of the big fish-houses and called outPean, a man about fifty years of age, who he saidwas a good goat hunter and a good guide. They held ahurried conversation in their native tongue, at the


close of which the young man said Pean would gowith me for two dollars a day. I asked Pean if hecould talk English, and he said "yes," but thisproved, in after experience, to be about the onlyEnglish word he could speak. He rushed into thehut, and in about three or four minutes returnedwith his gun, powder-horn, bullet-pouch, pipe,and a small roll of blankets, and was ready fora journey into the mountains of, he knew not howmany days. His canoe was on the river bank nearus, and as we were stepping into it I asked him afew questions which he tried to answer in English,but made a poor stagger at it, and slid off into Chi-nook.

Just then another old Indian came up with acanoe-load of wood. I asked him if he could speakEnglish" wah-wah King George "; and he said"Yes."

I then told him I had hired this other manto go hunting with me and asked him if he knewhim.

"Oh, yes," he said ; "me chief here. All desehouse my house. All dese people my people. Noother chief here." I said I was delighted to knowhim, shook hands with him, gave him a cigar, andinquired his name.

" Captain George," he said; "me chief here."" Is he a good hunter ?" pointing to Pean."Yes, Pean good hunter; good man. He kill plenty

sheep, deer, bear." With this additional certificate ofefficiency and good character I felt more confidencein Pean, and stepping into the canoe was once moreen route to the mountains.

88 CRTJISINGS IN THE CASCADES

Still, I felt some misgivings, for my past experiencewith the fish eaters had taught me not to placeimplicit faith in their statements or pretensions, andthe sequel will show how well grounded these fearswere.

CHAPTER X.

HE Flathead nation, towhich nearly all the PugetSound Indians belong, mayalmost be termed amphibians;for though they can, and do

in some cases, live inland ex-clusively, they are never happy

when away from the water. They arecanoeists by birth and education. A coastIndian is as helpless and miserable with-

out a canoe as a plains Indian without a horse, andthe Siwash (Chinook for coast Indian) is as expert inthe use of the canoe as the Sioux, Crow, or Arapahoein the use and control of his cayuse. Almost the solemeans of travel, of intercommunication among thesepeople, and between themselves and the whites, istile canoe.

There are very few horses owned in any of thecoast tribes, and these are rarely ridden. When aSiwash attempts to ride a horse he climbs onto itkicking and grunting with the effort, much as anAlabama negro mounts his mule, and sits him aboutas gracefully. But let the Siwash step into hiscanoe, and he fears no rapid, whirlpool, nor stormybillow. He faces the most perilous water and sends

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his frail cedar shell into it with a skill and a conscious-ness of mastery that would put to the blush any ofthe prize winners in our Eastern canoe-club regattas.The canoes are models of nautical architecture.They are cut and carved from the cedar trees whichbounteous Nature, in wise provision for the wants ofHer children, has caused to grow so plentifully andto such prodigious size in the Sound country. Theyare of various sizes and lengths, owing to the usesfor which they are intended. If for spearing sal-mon or for light traveling, they are cut from a treetwenty to twenty-four inches in diameter, and arenot more than twelve to fifteen feet long. If forattending nets and bringing in th.e catch, they aregenerally longer, and if for freighting and long-dis-tance traveling, they are a immense size and capableof carrying great burdens. A tree of the size wantedis selected, perfectly sound and free from knots, anda log of the desired length cut off. The log is hol-lowed, carved out to the desired shape, then trimmedand tapered ontside until it is a mere shell, scarcelymore than an inch thick anywhere.

It is then filled with water, a fire is built near inwhich rocks are heated and thrown into the canoeuntil the water boils. This is continued until thewood is thoroughly cooked and softened, when thewater is turned out, the canoe is spread at thecentre, braced out to nearly twice its natural widthor diameter, and left to dry. This gives it " sheer "and enables it to ride a heavy sea like a lifeboat.Handsomely carved figureheads are attached tosome of the large canoes, and the entire craft ispainted, striped, and decorated in gay colors. I


measured one of these cedar canoes that was thirty-four feet long and five and a hall feet beam, and wastold by its owner that he had carried in it four tonsof freight on one trip, and two cords of green woodon another. It would carry fifty men comfortablyand safely. There are not many of the Indians thatcan make the larger and better grade of canoes, andthe trade is one that but few master.

There is one famous old canoe builder near Van-couver, to whom Indians go from distances of ahundred miles or more when they want an extrafine, large, light canoe. For some specimens of hishandiwork he gets as high as $80 to $100. The In-dians throughout Washington Territory and BritishColumbia do considerable freighting for whites, onstreams not navigable for steamers, and they takefreight up over some of the rapids where no whiteman could run an empty canoe.

Some of these Flatheads are industrious and areemployed by the whites in salmon canneries, lum-bering and logging operations, farming, etc. Steam-boat men employ them ahnost exclusively for deckhands, and they make the best ones to be had in thecountry; better than either whites or Chinamen.They are excellent packers by education. In thisdensely-timbered country horses can not, as a rule,be used for packing, and the Indians, in going acrosscountry where there is no watercourse, pack alltheir plunder on their backs. Whites traveling inthe woods also depend on Indians to pa,ck their lug-gage; consequently it is not strange that the latterbecome experts at the business, and it is thisschooling that makes them valuable as deck hands.

AND OTIIER HUNTING ADVENTTJRES. 93

They are noi large men, but are tough, sinewy, andmuscular. An average Siwash will pick up a barrelof flour or pork, a case of dry goods, or other heavyfreight weighing three hundred ponnds or more, rollit onto his back, and walk up a gang-plank or a steepriver-bank as easily as a white man would with abarrel of crackers.

No work is too dirty or too hard for them. Theyare obedient to orders and submissive to discipline,but their weak point, like that of all Indians, is theirinordinate love of whisky. Quite frequently, afterworking a few weeks or months, they quit and goon a drunken debauch that ends only when theirmoney is gone. Their dress is much the same, ingeneral, as that of the whites in this region, with theexception that the Indians wear moccasius whenhunting. This footgear is little in favor here withwhite hunters, owing to there being so much rain-fall, and so much wading to do. Rubber boots areindispensable for hunting in most seasons, and a rub-ber coat should also be included in every hunter' soutfit. I found the Hannaford ventilated rubberboot the most comfortable and perfect footgear Ihave ever worn. You can scarcely walk a mile inany direction in this country at any time of year,on mountains or lowlands, without encounteringwater. Moccasins soon become soaked, and are thenthe most uncomfortable things imaginable. I askedone of my guides why he did not wear rubber bootsinstead of moccasins, and he replied:

"O, I dunno. De moxicans cheaper, mebbe.mek him myself. Can't mek de boots."

This is about the only use the Indians make of

94 CRUISINGS IN TIIE CASCADES

buckskin. It is not popular with them as a materialfor clothing, on account of the vast amount of rainyweather.

It has been said they make cloth from the woolof the goat, but, so far as I could learn, they makevery little, if any of it, of late years. I saw someblankets that Indians had woven from this wool,but they were very coarse. They have no machineryfor spinning; the yarn is merely twisted by hand, andis so coarse and loose that it would not hold togethera week if made into a garment and worn in the woods.Of course, a fair article of yarn, and even cloth, maybe, and has been, made entirely by hand, but thesepeople have neither the skill, the taste, nor theindustry to enable them to do such work. Acoarse hair grows with the wool on the goat, andthe squaws do not even take the trouble to separateit, but work both up together, making a veryuncouth-looking fabric, even if thick, warm, andserviceable.

As a class, these Indians appear to be strictlyholiest, toward each other at least. They leave theircanoes, guns, game, or in fact, any kind of property,anywhere they choose, without the slightest effort atconcealment, and always feel perfectly sure of find-ing it on their return. About the only case of pilfer-ing I ever heard of while among them (and Itook special pains to investigate) was when Johnasked me for some fish-hooks, and said in expla-nation:

"I had plenty hooks, but I reckon Seemo he stealall my hooks."

" Why, does Seymour steal ?" I inquired. He


looked all around to see it Seymour was within hear-ing, and not seeing him, replied:

" You bet. He steal my hooks, too."

A SIWASH AND HIS MORNING'S CATCH.

Top


,,1:7

-AN INDIAN SALMON FISHERY.

HAD left my bedding at the Hot SpringsHotel, and returning to get it staid thereall night. Early next morning (Friday,

November 12) we crossed Harrison Lake,in a drenching rain, to the foot of a highmountain, about two miles from thesprings, on which Pean, Captain George,and other Indians said there were plenty

-'"\ of goats. We beached our canoe, andmade up packs for the climb up the

mountain. The outfit consisted of our guns, mysleeping-bag, Pean' s gun and blankets, a few seabiscuits, a piece of bacon, and some salt.

My sleeping-bag was wrapped up in a piece ofcanvas, and when I handed it to Pean, he commencedto unroll it to put his blankets in with it, but Iobjected. Visions of the insects with which I knewhis bedding was inhabited rose up before me. Ithought of the rotary drill, key-hole saw, and suctionpump with which they are said to be armed, andI did not want any of them in my bag. So Iunrolled the canvas only a part of its length, said hisblankets in and rolled it up again, hoping the remain-ing folds might r prevent the vermin from findingtheir way in, and my reckoning proved correct.One of his blankets had been white in its day, buthad long since lost its grip on that color, and was

7 (97)

CHAPTER XI.


now about as pronounced a brunette as its owner.The other blanket was gray, but even through thissombre shade, as well as through the rank odorit emitted, gave evidence that it had not beenwashed for many years. Pean brought with hima cotton bedspread that had also once beenwhite, but left this with the canoe. In my pack Icarried the grub, and an extra coat for use on themountain, where we expected to encounter colderweather.

We started up the mountain at ten o'clock in theforenoon. For the first two miles we skirted itsbase to the eastward, through dense timber, crossingseveral deep, dark jungles and swamps. Then webegan the ascent proper, and as soon as we got up afew hundred feet on the mountain side, we foundnumerous fresh deer-signs. We halted to rest, whenPean took from its case his gun, which up to this

. time he had kept covered, and which I naturallysupposed to be a good, modern weapon. It proved,however, an old smooth bore, muzzle-loading,percussion-lock musket, of .65 calibre, with abarrel about fifty inches long. He drew out thewiping stick, on the end of which was a wormer,pulled a wad of paper from the gun and poured acharge of shot out into his hand. This he put care-fully into his shot-bag. Then he took from anotherpouch a No. 1 buckshot, and dropped it into themuzzle of his musket. It rolled down onto thepowder, when he again inserted the bunch of paper,rammed it home with the rod, put on_ a cap, and wasloaded for bear, deer, or whatever else he mightencounter. He then replaced the musket in its seal-


skin cover as carefully as if it had been a $300breech-loader.

Nearly all these Indians use just such old mus-kets, bought from the Hudson Bay Company, andyet they keep them in covers made of the skin ofthe seal, which they kill in the rivers hereabout, orof deer or other animals. They take excellent careof their guns in this respect, but I have never seenone of them clean or oil his weapon, and several ofthem told me they seldom do so.

My Winchester express, with fancy stock, Lymansight, etc., was a curiosity to them. None of themhad ever seen anything like it, and one of themasked me what kind of a rifle it was. When told itwas a Winchester, he said:

"I didn't know Winchester so big like dat.Didn't know he liad stock like dat." He had onlyseen the little .44 Winchester, with a plain stock,and innocently supposed it was the only kindmade.

Pean and I liad a hard day's work toiling up themountain through fallen timber, over and aroundgreat ledges of jutting rock, across deep, ruggedcarions and gulches, and through dense jungles ofunderbrush. About two o'clock in the afternoon wehalted, lay down for a rest, and had been there buta few minutes when I heard the sharp, familiarchatter of the little pine squirrel. I looked aroundquickly, expecting to see one within a few feet ofme, but instead saw Pean lying close to the ground,beckoning to me and pointing excitedly up the gametrail in which we had been walking. Lookingthrough the thick, intervening brush, I saw two


deer, a buck and a doe, looking toward us. ,Theyhad not seen nor scented us, but had merely heardthe chatter of the little squirrel, as they supposed,and, though apparently as completely deceived by itas I had been, they had stopped to listen, as they doat almost every sound they hear in the woods. Butthere was no squirrel there. Pean had taken thismethod of calling my attention, and had imitatedthe cry of the familiar little cone-eater so perfectlythat even the deer had been deceived by it.

I cautiously and slowly drew my rifle to myshoulder, and taking aim at the breast of the buck,fired. Both deer bounded away into thicker brash,and were out of sight in an instant. Pean sprangafter them, and in a few minutes I heard the dull,muffled report of his musket. He shouted to me,and going to him I found the buck dead and theIndian engaged in butchering it. My bullet hadgone a little' farther to the left than I intended,breaking its shoulder, and had passed out throughthe ribs on the same side. The deer had fallen aftergoing but a few yards, but was not quite dead whenPean came up and shot it through the head. Wetook out the entrails, cut a choice roast of the meatfor our supper and breakfast, and hurried on ourway.

We camped at four o'clock on a small bench ofthe mountain, and you may rest assured, gentlereader, that our conversation in front of the campfire that night was novel. Pean, you will remember,could not speak half a dozen words of English. Hespoke entirely in Chinook, and I knew but a fewwords of that jargon. I had a Chinook dictionary

AND OTIIER HUNTING' ADVENTURES. 101

with me, however, and by its aid was able to pickout the few words necessary in what little talking Ihad to do, and to translate enough of Pean's answersto my questions to get along fairly well. The greattrouble with him seemed to be that he was woundup to talk, and whenever I made a remark or askeda question in his adopted language he turned loose,and talked until I Shut him off with "Halo k um-tucks" (I don't understand). No matter how oftenI repeated this he seemed soon to forget it, andwould open on me again whenever he got a cue. Hewas a fluent talker, and if I had only been well upin the jargon, I could have got lots of pointers fromhim.

The deer of this region is the true black-tail (C3r-vus columbianus), not the mule-deer (Cervus ma-crotis), that is so often miscalled the black-tail.The black-tail is smaller than the mule-deer, and itsears, though not so large as those of the latter, arelarger than those of the Virginia deer (Cervus vir-giniartus). Its tail is white underneath, dark out-side, shading to black at the lower end, and whilelonger than that of the mule-deer, is not so long asthat of the Virginia deer.

-otr

CHAPTER XII.-

rfINOOK is a queer jargon. It is saidto have been manufactured manyyears ago by an employé of the Hud-

son Bay Fur Company, who taught theprincipal chiefs of various Indian tribes to speakit in order to facilitate traffic with them. From thattime it has grown and spread until almost everyIndian of the North Pacific Coast, and many inlandtribes of Washington, British Columbia, and Oregonspeak it. White men of all nations who live in thiscountry speak it, and even the almond-eyed China-man learns it soon after locating here. In short, itis the court language of the Northwest, as the signlanguage is of the plains. It is made up from vari-ous Indian tongues, with a few English, or ratherpigeon-English, French, and Spanish words inter-mixed. There are only about 1,500 words in thelanguage and it is very easy to learn. Of course, itis woefully lacking in strength and beauty. Youwill often want to say something that can not be saidin Chinook, because there are no words in thatjargon with which to say it. But it is made toanswer the purposes of trade, travel, and barter, incommon forms. For instance:

" Kah-tah si-ah ko-pa Frazer chuck?" would be," How far is it to the Frazer river?"

"Yutes kut klat-a-wa la-pe-a," " Only a short(102)

AND OTFIER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 103

walk." If you wish to say good-morning or good-evening to an Indian you say:

"Kla-how-ya, six."" Chah-co yah-wa " is " Come here.""Mi-ka tik-eh mam-ook?" "Do you want to

work?""1k-ta mi-ka mam-ook?" " At what?""Mam-ook stick." "Cut some wood.""Na-wit-ka." " Certainly.""Kon-si dat-la spose mi-ka mam-ook kon-a-way

o-koke stick?" " What do you want for cuttingthat lot of wood?"

"Ikt dol la." " One dollar."The numerals are ikt (one), mox (two), klone

(three), lock-it (four), kwin-num tagh-kum(six), sin-na mox (seven), sto te-kM (eight), twaist(nine), tah-tlum (ten), tah-tlum pee-ikt (eleven), tah-tlum pee-mox (twelve), mox-tah tlum (twenty),klone tah-tlum (thirty), ikt tah-kamo-nux (onehundred), tah-tlum lo-ka mo-mik (one thousand),etc. It is often difficult to get accurate informationfrom these Indians as to distances or time, as theyhave little idea of English miles or of the measure-ments of time, and very few of them own or knowhow to read a watch or clock. Under Pean's tutelageI learned 'rapidly, and was soon able to carry onquite an interesting conversation by the aid of thelittle dictionary.

By the light of a rousing camp-fire I cut a largequantity of cedar boughs and made for myself abed a foot deep. On this I spread my sleeping-bag,crawled into it and slept the sleep of the weary hun-ter. Pean cut only a handful of boughs, spread


them near the fire, threw his coat over them, and laydown. Then he folded his two blankets and spreadthem over him, mostly on the sido away from thefire, leaving that part of his body next to the fireexposed so as to catch its heat direct. During thenight, whenever he turned over, he would shift hisblankets so as to keep them where most needed. Atfrequent intervals he would get up and replenishthe fire from the large supply of dry wood we hadprovided. The night was bitter cold, at this highaltitude, and snow fell at frequent intervals. Araw -wind blew, and the old man must have sufferedfrom the cold to which he exposed himself.

There are few of these savages that understandand appreciate fully the -value of a good bed whencamping. In fact, many white hunters and mount-aineers go on long camping trips with insufficientbedding, simply because they are too lazy to carryenough to keep them comfortable. I would ratherget into a good warm, soft bed at night without mysupper, than eat a feast and then sleep on the hardground, without covering enough to keep me warm.After a hard day's work a good bed is absolutelynecessary to prepare one for the labor and fatigue ofthe followino, day.

"In bed we laugh, in bed we cry,And born in bed, in bed we die;The near approach, a bed may show,Of human bliss to human-woe."

Any ablebodied man may enduw a few nights ofcold, comfortless sleep, but it will tell on him sooneror later; while if he sleep comfortably and eat


heartily, he may endure an incredible amount oflabor and hardship of other kinds. You may trampall day with your feet wet, and all your clothingwet, if need be, but be sure you crawl into a good,warm, dry bed at night.

Old Pean complained of feeling unwell during theevening, and in the morning when we got up saidhe was sick. I prepared a good breakfast, but hecould not, or at least would not, eat. Then he toldme that he had once fallen down a mountain; thathis breast-bone had been crushed in by striking ona sharp rock, and that it always hurt him sincewhen doing any hard work. He said the climb upthe mountain with the pack was too hard for hiniand he was played out, that he could go nofarther.

Here was another bitter disappointment, as we wereyet two miles from the top of the mountain, and ingoing that distance a perpendicular ascent of from2,000 to 3,000 feet must be made. I deliberated,therefore, as to whether I should go up the mount-ain alone and let Pean go back, but decided itwould be useless. I could not carry more load thanmy sleeping-bag, gun, etc., and therefore couldbring no game down with me if I killed it, not evena head or skin. Beside, if he went back he wouldtake his canoe, and I would be left with no meansof crossing the lake.. So the only thing to be donewas to pack up and retrace our steps. On our waydown we stopped and took the head and skin off ofthe deer killed the day before, and I carried themto the canoe. Arriving at the lake, we pulled againfor Chehalis in a cold, disagreeable rain. I stopped

106 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES.

at the hot springs on my way down, and took myleave of my host, Mr.. Brown, who had been so kindto me, and who regretted my ill luck almost asmuch as I did.

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CHAPTER XIII.

N our return to Chehalisthat town ofunsavory odors and salmon-drying,salmon-smoking SiwashesI at once

tutu 7 employed two other Indians, named Johnand Seymour, and, on the following day westarted up Ski-ik-kul Creek, to a lake of thename, in which it heads ten miles back in

the mountains. The Indians claimed that goats, orsheep, as they call them, were plentiful on the cliffssurrounding this lake, and that we -could kill plentyof them from a raft while floating up and downalong the shores. Seymour claimed to have killedtwenty-three in March last, just after the wintersnows had gone off, and a party of seven Siwashesfrom Chehalis had killed ten about two weeks pre-vious to the date of my visit.

Such glowing accounts as these built up my hopesagain to such a height as to banish from my mind allrecollection of the bitter disappointment in which theformer expedition had ended, and, although therain continued to fall heavily at short intervals, sothat the underbrush reeked with dampness anddrenching showers fell from every bush we touched,I trudged cheerily along regardless of all discom-forts.

The first two miles up the creek, we had a good,open trail, but at the end of this we climbed a steep,

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same

1.08 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES

rocky bluff, about 500 feet high, and made the greaterportion of the remaining distance at an average ofabout this height above the stream. There was ablind Indian trail all the way to the lake, but it ledover the roughest, most tortuous, outlandish countrythat ever any fool of a goat hunter attempted totraverse. There are marshes and morasses away upamong these mountains, where alders and waterbeeches, manzanitas, and other shrubs grow so thickthat their branches intertwine to nearly their fulllength. Many of these have fallen down in variousdirections, and their trunks are as inextricably mixedas their branches, forming altogether a labyrinthinemass, through which it was with the utmost difficultywe could walk at all.

There were numberless little creeks coming downfrom the mountain into the main stream, and eachhad in time cut its deep, narrow gulch, or catIon,lined on both sides with rough, shapeless masses ofrock, and all these we were obliged to cross. Inmany cases, they were so close together that only asharp hog-back lay between them, and we merelyclimbed out of one gulch 300 or 400 feet deep, to goat once down into another still deeper, and so on.Fire had run through a large tract of this country,killing out all the large timber, and many trees havesince rotted away and fallen, while the blackenedand barkless trunks of others, with here and there acraggy limb, still stand as mute monuments tothe glory of the forest before the dread element laidit waste.

We camped that night at the base of one of thesegreat dead firs around which lay a cord or more

AND OTHER IIUNTING ADVENTURES. 109

of old dry bark that liad fallen from it, and which,with a few dry logs we gathered, furnished fuel fora rousing, all-night fire. Within a few feet of ourcamp, a clear, ice-cold little rivulet threaded its ser-pentine way down among rocks and ferns, and madesweet music to lull us to sleep. After supper, Imade for myself the usual bed of mountain feathers(cedar boughs), on which to spread my sleeping-bag.

This old companion of so many rough jaunts, overplains and mountains, has become as necessary apart of my outfit for such voyages as my rifle.Whether it journey by day, on the hurricane deck ofa male, in tin hatchway of a canoe, on my shoulderblades or those of a Siwash, it always rounds up atnight to house me against the bleak wind, the driv-ing snow, or pouring rain. I have learned to prizeit so highly that I can appreciate the sentiments ofthe fallen monarch, Napoleon, on the lonely islandof St. Helena, when he wrote:

" The bed has become a place of luxury to me.I would .not exchange it for all the thrones in theworld "

These Indians, like Pean, and, in fact, all otherswho have seen the bag, are greatly interested in it.They had never seen anything like it, and watchedwith undisguised interest the unfolding and prepar-ing of the article, and when I had crawled into it,and stowed myself snugly away, they looked at eachother, grunted and uttered a few of their peculiarguttural sounds, which I imagined would be, iftranslated:

" Well, I'll be doggoned if that ain't about thesleekest trick I ever saw. Eh'


" You bet it's nice to sleep in, but heavy to carry."By the way, some of my readers may never have

seen one of these valuable camp appendages, and adescription of it may interest them. Th e outer bag ismade of heavy, brown, waterproof canvas, six feetlong, three feet wide in the centre, tapered to two

DIAGRAM OF SLEEPING-BAG.

feet at the head and sixteen inches at the foot.Above the head of the bag proper, flaps project afoot farther, with which the occupant's head may becompletely covered, if desired. These are providedwith buttons and button-holes; so that they may bebuttoned clear across, for stormy or very coldweather. The bag is left open, from the head downone edge, two feet, and a flap is provided to lap over


this opening. Buttons are sewed on the bag, andthere are button-holes in the flaps so it may also bebuttoned up tightly. Inside of this canvas' bag isanother of the same size and shape, less the headflaps. This is made of lamb skin with the wool on,and is lined with ordinary sheeting, to keep thewool from coming in direct contact with the per-son or clothing. One or more pairs of blanketsmay be folded and inserted in this, as may benecessary, for any temperature in which it is to beused.

If the weather be warm, so that not all this cover-ing is needed over the sleeper, he may shift it tosuit the weather and his taste, crawling in on top ofas much of it as he may wish, and the less he hasover him the more he will have under him, and thesofter will be his bed. Beside being waterproof, thecanvas is windproof, and one can button himself up inthis house, leaving only an air-hole at the end of hisnose, and sleep as soundly, and almost as com-fortably in a snowdrift on the prairie as in atent or house. In short, he may be absolutelyat home, and comfortable, wherever night findshim, and no matter what horrid nightmares hemay have, he can not roll out of bed or kick off thecovers.

Nor will he catch a draft of cold air along thenorth edge of his spine every time he turns over, ashe is liable to do when sleeping in blankets. Norwill his feet crawl out from under the cover andcatch chilblains, as they are liable to do in the old-fashioned way. In fact, this sleeping-bag is one ofthe greatest luxuries I ever took into camp, and if

112 CRUISINGS IN TIIE CASCADES.

any brother sportsman who may read this wants one,and can not find an architect in his neighborhoodcapable' of building one, let him communicate withme and I will tell him where mine was made.

CHAPTER XIV.

ONG after the Indians went to sleep I lay there,looking into the fire and thinking. Many and

varied were the fancies that chasedeach other through my restless brain-

some pleasant, some unpleasant. I pondered onthe novelty, even the danger, of my situation. Iwas away up there in that wild, trackless, mountainwilderness, alone, so far as any congenial com-panionship was concerned. Yes, I was worsethan alone, for the moment I might close my eyes andsleep I would be at the mercy of these two recklessred men. True, they are not of a courageous, war-like race, but what might they not do for the sake ofplunder ? They could crush my skull at a blow andconceal my body beyond all possibility of discovery;or they could leave it and, saying I had killed my-self by a fall, reveal its resting place to anyone whomight care to go in search of me. I had some prop-erty with me, especially my rifle, sleeping-bag, and asmall sum of money, that I knew they coveted, andI reflected that they might already have concoctedsome foul scheme for disposing of me and gettingpossession of my effects.

(113)8

114 °MUSINGS IN THE CASCADES

In their native tongue of strange, weird gutturals,,hisses, and aspirations, they had conversed all theevening ofI knew not what. John had ratheran honest, frank face, that I thought bespoke agood heart, but Seymour had a dark, repulsivecountenance that plainly indicated a treacherousnature. From the first I had made up my mindthat he was a thief, if nothing worse. He pre-tended not to be able to speak or understand Eng-lish, although I knew he could. John spoke ourtongue fairly, and through him all communicationwith either or both was held. Should they contem-plate any violence I would welcome them both to anencounter, if only I could have notice of it a-secondin advance. Their two old smooth-bore musketswould cut no figure against the deadly stream of firethat my Winchester express could pour forth. ButI dreaded the treachery, the stealth, the silent mid-night assault that is a characteristic of their race.Yet, on further consideration, I dismissed all suchforebodings as purely chimerical. These were civil-ized Indians, living within the sound of the whistleof a railroad engine, and would hardly be willing toplace themselves within the toils of the law, by thecommission of such a crime, even if they had thecourage or the desire to do it, and I hoped they hadneither.

Then my fancies turned to the contemplation ofpleasanter themes. I thought of the dear littleblack-eyed woman, whom I had parted with on boardthe steamer nearly a week ago. She is homeward-bound and must now be speeding over the Dakota orMinnesota prairies, well on toward St. Paul. Will


she reach home in safety ? God grant itand thatin due time I may be permitted to join her there.Then other familiar images passed and repassed mymental ken. The kind acts of dear friends, thehospitalities shown me by strangers and passingacquaintances in distant lands and in years longagone came trooping through my memory, and a feel-ing of gratitude for those kindnesses supplanted forthe time that of solitude. Gradually and sweetly Isank into a profound slumber and all was stillnessand oblivion.

Several hours, perhaps, have passed, and I amthirsty. I get up and start to the little brook forwater ; to reach it a log, lying across a deep fissurein the rocks, must be scaled. With no thought ofdanger I essay the task by the dying fire's uncer-tain light and that of the twinkling stars. I havenot counted on the heavy covering of frost that hasbeen deposited on the lcig since dark, and steppingout upon the barkless part of the trunk, my mocca-sins slip, and with a shriek and a wild but unsuccess-ful grasp at an overhanging limb I fall twenty feetand land on the mass of broken and jagged granitebeneath ! The Indians, alarmed by my cries, springto my relief, carry me to the fire, give me stimulants,bind up my broken arm, and do all in their powerto alleviate my sufferings.

They are not the crafty villains and assassins thatmy fancy had painted. They are kind, sympatheticfriends. I realize that my right collar-bone and threeribs on the same side are broken, and when I remem-ber where I am, the deplorableness and utter help-lessness of my condition appal me.


The long hours until daylight drag slowly by, andat last, as the sun tips the distant mountain tops withgolden light, we start on our perilous and painfuljourney to the Indian village ana to the steamboatlanding. The two red men have rigged a litter frompoles and blankets, on which they carry me safelyto their homes, and thence in a canoe to the landing

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below. How the long, tedious journey thence, bysteamer and rail, to my own home is accomplished ;how the weary days and nights of suffering anddelirium which I endure en route were passed, aresubjects too painful to dwell upon. I am finallyassisted from the sleeper at my destination. My .wife,whom the-wire has informed of my misfortune and mycoming, is there. She greets me with that ferventlove, that intensity of pity and emotion that only a

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wife can feel. Her lips move, but her tongue is par-alyzed. For the time she can not speak ; the wells ofher grief have gone dry ; she can not weep ; she canonly act I am taken to my home, and the suspense,the anxiety, having been lived out, the climaxhaving been reached and passed I swoon away. Againthe surgeon appears to be racking me with pain inan effort to set the broken ribs, and seems to bemaking an incision in my side for that purpose, whenI awake.

The stars shone brightly above me, the frost onthe leaves sparkled brightly in the fire-light. It tookme several minutes to realize that I had been dream-ing. I searched for the cause of the acute pain inmy side, and found it to be the sharp point of a rockthat my cedar boughs had not sufficiently coveredand which was trying to get in between t wo of my ribs.I got up, removed it and slept better through theremainder cf the night.

CHAPTER XV.

KI-IK-KUL, or Chehalis Creek, as thewhites call it, is surely one of the most

beautiful streams in the whole Cascade.7 Range. Its size may be stated, approxi-

--t mately, as two feet in depth by fiftyfeet in width, at or near the mouth, butits course is so crooked, so tortuous,and its bed so broken and uneven thatthe explorer will seldom find a reach

of it sufficiently quiet and undisturbed to afforda measurement of this character. At one pointit is choked inti) a narrow gorge ten feet wideand twice as deep, with a -fall of ten feet in adistance of thirty. Through this notch the streamsurges and swirls with the wild fury, the fearfulpower, and the awe-inspiring grandeur of a tornado.At another place it runs more placidly for a fewyards, as if to gather strength and courage for awild leap over a sheer wall of frowning rock intoa foaming pool thirty, forty, or fifty feet below.At still another place it seems to carve its way, bythe sheer power of madness, through piles andwalls of broken and disordered quartz, granite, orbasalt, even as Cortes and his handful of Spanishcavaliers hewed their way through the massedlegions of Aztecs at Tlascala.

Farther up, or down, it is split into various(as)


,channels by great masses of upheaved rock, andthese miniature streams, after winding hither andthither through deep, dark, narrow fissures forperhaps one or two hundred yards, reunite to formthis headlong mountain torrent. Viewing these,scenes, one is forcibly reminded of the poet's words:

"How the giant element,From rock to rock, leaps with delirious bound."

Series of cascades, a quarter to half a mile long, aremet with at frequent intervals, which rival in theirbeauty and magnificence those of the Columbia orthe Upper Yellowstone. Whirlpools occur at thefoot of some of these, in which the clear, brightgreen water boils, sparkles, and effervesces like vastreservoirs of champagne. The moanings and roar-ings emitted by this matchless stream in its mad.career may be heard in places half a mile. Atmany points its banks rise almost perpendicularlyto heights of 300, 400, or 500 feet. You may standso nearly over the water that you can easily toss alarge rock into it, and yet you are far above thetops of the massive firs and cedars that grow at thewater's edge. Looking down from these heightsyou may see in the crystal fluid whole schools ofthe lordly salmon plowing their way up against thealmost resistless fury of the current, leaping throughthe foam, striking with stunning force against hiddenrocks, falling back half dead, and, drifting into someclear pool below, recovering strength to renew thehopeless assault.

The time will come when an easy roadway, and-possibly an iron one, will be built up this grand,cari on, and thousands of tourists will annually stand


within its walls to gaze upon these magic pictures,absorbed in their grandeur and romantic beauty. Nordoes the main stream afford the only objects ofbeauty and interest here. It is a diamond set in acluster of diamonds, for many of the little brooks,already mentioned as coming down the mountainon either side, are only less attractive becausesmaller. Many of them tumble from the tops ofrocky walls, and dance down among the branches ofevergreen trees, sparkling like ribbons of silver inthe rays of the noonday sun.

Theodore Roosevelt, in his excellent work, " Hunt-ing Trips of a Ran-hman," says: " Thirst is largelya matter of habit." So it may be, but I am sadlyaddicted to the habit, and I found it one from which,on this trip, I was able to extract a great deal ofcomfort, for we crossed one or more of these littlebrooks every hour, and I rarely passed one without,taking a copious draught of its icy fluid. The dayswere moderately warm, and the hard labor we per-formed, walking and climbing, made these frequentopportunities to quench thirst one of the mostpleasant features of the journey. ' I was frequentlyreminded of Cole' s beautiful tribute to the mountainbrook:

" Sleeping in c; ystal wells,Leaping in shady dells,Or issuing clear from the womb of the mountain,Sky-mated, relate d, earth's holiest daughter;Not the hot kiss of wine,

Is half so divine as the sip of thy lip, inspiring cold water."

We arrived at our destination, the foot of Ski-ik-kul La,ke (and the source of the creek up which weliad been traveling), at four o'clock in the afternoon


of the second day out. We made camp on the bankof the creek, and John and I engaged in gatheringa supply of wood. After we had been thus occu-pied for ten orlifteen minutes, I noticed that Sey-mour was nowhere in sight, and asked John wherehe was.

"He try spear salmon.'" What will he spear him with?" I said. " Sharp

stick"No. He bring spear in him pocket," said John.We were standing on the bank of the creek again,

and as he spoke there was a crashing in the brush.overhead, and an immense salmon, nearly three feetlong, landed on the ground between us. Seymourhad indeed brought a spear with him in his pocket.It was made of a fence-nail and two pieces of goathorn, with a strong. cord about four feet longattached. There was a sort of socket in the upperend of it, and the points of the two pieces of hornwere formed into barbs. As soon as Seymour haddropped his pack he had picked up a long, dry,cedar pole, one end of which he had sharpened andinserted between the barbs, fastening the string sothat when he should strike a fish the spear pointWould pull off. With this simple weapon in handhe had walked out on the vast body of driftwoodwith which the creek is bridged for half a mile belowthe lake, and peering down between the logs, hadfound and killed the fish. We made a fire in thehollow of a great cedar that stood at the water'sedge. The tree was green, but the fire soon ate alarge hole into the central cavity, and, by fre-quent feeding with dry wood, we had a fire that

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roared and crackled like a great fuanace, all night.It

" Kindled the gummy bark of fir or pine,And sent a comfortabl3 heat from far,Which might supply the sun."

Seymour cut off the salmon's head, split the bodyd.own the back, and took out the spine, Then hespread the fish out and put skewers through it tohold it flat. He next cut a stick about four feetlong, split it half its length, tied a cedar withearound to keep it from splitting further, and insert-ing the fish in the aperture, tied another withearound the upper end. He now stuck the other endof the stick into the ground in front of the fire, andour supper was under way.

I have often been reduced to the necessity of eat-ing grub cooked by Indians, both squaws and men,and can place my hand on my heart and say truth-fully I never hankered after Indian cookery. In fact,I have always eaten it with a mental reservation,and a quiet, perhaps unuttered protest, but I countedthe minutes while that fish cooked. I knew Sey-mour was no more cleanly in his habits than hiskinin fact, he would not have washed his handsbefore commencing, nor the fish after removing itsentrails, had I not watched him and made him do so;but even if he had not I should not have refused toeat, for when a man has been climbing mountainsall day he can not afford to be too scrupulous inregard to his food. When the fish was thoroughlyroasted on one side the other was turned to the fire,and finally, when done to a turn, it was laid smok-ing hot on a platter of cedar boughs which I had

1'24 CIIITISINGS IN TIIE CASCADES.

prepared, and the savory odors it emitted wouldhav e tempted the palate of an epicure. I took outmy hunting knife, and making a suggestive gesturetoward the smoking fish, asked John if I should cutoff a piece; for not withstanding, my consuming hun-ger, my native modesty still remained with me, andI thus hinted for an invitation to help myself.

"Yes," he said. " Cat off how much you_ can eat."You can rest assured I cut off a ration that would

have frightened a tramp. Good digestion waited onappetite, and health on both. I ate with the hungerborn of the day' s fatigue and the mountain atmos-phere, and the Indians followed suit, or rather led, andin half an hour only the head and spine of that fifteen-pound salmon remained, and they were not yet in anedible condition. Near bedtime, however, they wereboth spitted before the fire, and in the silent vvatchesof the night, as I awoke and looked out of my downybed, I saw those two simple-minded children of theforest, sitting there picking, the last remainingmorsels of flesh from those two pieces of what, inany civilized camp or household, would have beenconsidered offal. But when a Siwash quits eating fishit is generally because there is no more fish to eat.After such a supper, charmed by such weird, novelsurroundings, lulled by the music of the rushingwaters, and warmed by a glowing camp-fire, I sleptthat night with naught else to wish for, at peace withall mankind. Even "mine enemy's dog, though hehad bit me, should have stood that night against myfire "

CHAPTER XVI.

EFORE going to bed, Seymour cautionedme through his interpreter, the faithful

John, against getting out too earlyin the morning. He said the goats

did not commence to movearound until nine or ten o' clock,

and if we started out to huntbefore that time we were liable to

pass them asleep in their beds.But I read the hypocrite's meaning between

his words; he is a lazy loafer and loves to lie andsnooze in the morning. It was his own comfort,more than our success in hunting, that he was con-cerned about. Goats, as well as all other species oflarge game, are on foot at daylight, whether theyhave been out all night or not, and from that timeuntil an hour after sunrise, and again just before darkin the evening, are the most favorable times to hunt.The game is intent on feeding at these times and isnot so wary as at other times. I told Seymour wewould get up at four o'clock, get breakfast, and beready to move at daylight. And so we did.

The night had been clear and cold; ice had formedaround the margin of the lake, and a hoar frost aquarter of an inch deep covered the ground, the logs,and rocks that were not sheltered by trees. Ski-ik-kul or Willey's Lake, as it is termed by the whites,

(125)


is a beautiful little mountain tarn about a quarter ofa mile wide and four miles long. It is of glassytransparency, of great depth, :Ind abounds in mount-ain trout, salmon, and salmon trout. It is walledin by abrupt, rocky-faced mountains that rise manyhundreds of feet from the water's edge, and onwhich a scanty growth of laurel, currant bushes, andmoss furnish food for the goats. Stunted cedars,balsams, spruces, and pines also grow from smallfissures in the rocks that afford sufficient earth tocover their roots.

The craft on which we were to navigate this lakewas an interesting specimen of Indian nauticalarchitecture. lt was a raft Seymour had made on aformer visit. The stringers were two large, dry,cedar logs, one about sixteen feet long, the otherabout twenty; these were held together by fourpoles, or cross-ties, pinned to the logs, and a floorcomposed of cedar clapboards was said over all.Pins of hard, dry birch, driven into the logs and tiedtogether at the tops, formed rowlocks, and the craftwas provided with four large paddles, or oars, hewedout with an ax. In fact, that was the only tool usedin building the raft. The pins had been sharpenedto a flat point and driven firmly into sockets madeby striking the ax deeply into the log, and insteadof ropes, cedar withes were used for lashing. Thesehad been roasted in the fire until tough and flexible,and when thus treated they formed a good substitutefor the white sailor's marline or the cow-boy' s picketrope.

We boarded this lubberly old hulk and pulled outup the north shore of the lake just as the morning

AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES.

sun gave the firstgolden tints to themountain tops. Ourprogress was slowdespite our unitedstrength applied tothe oars, but it gaveus more time to scanthe mountain sidesfor game. I did notfind it so plentifulas I had been prom-ised, for I had beentold by the Indiansthat we should seea dozen goats in

J 127

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the first hour, but we had been out more than thatlength of time before we saw any. Finally, how-ever, after we had gone a mile or more up the lakeshore, I saw a large buck goat browsing among thecrags about four hundred feet above us. Ile had notseen us, and dropping the oar I caught up my rifle.The men backed water, and as the raft carne to astandstill, I sent a bullet into him.. Ile sprangforward, lost his footing, carne bounding and crash-ing to the foot of the mountain, and stopped, stonedead, in the brush at the water's edge not more thantwenty feet from the raft. We pushed ashore andtook him on board, when I found, to my disappoint-ment, that both horns liad been broken off in the fall,so that his head was worthless for mounting.

We cruised clear around the lake that day andcould not find another goat. In the afternoon itclouded up and set in to rain heavily again in thecahon, while snow fell on the mountains a few hundred feet above us. The next morning I went up anarrow cahon to the north, and ascending a highpeak hunted until nearly noon, when I found twomore goats, a female and her kid (nearly full growL),.both of which I killed, and taking the skins and oneham of the hid, I returned to camp. It continuedto rain at frequent intervals, which robbed camp lifeand hunting of much of their charm, so I decidedto start for home the following morning. In theafternoon I rigged a hook and line, cut an alder pole,and caught five fine trout, the largest seventeen anda half inches long. Seymour speared three moresalmon and roasted one of them, so that we hadanother feast of fish that night. We also roasted


a leg of goat for use on our way home, andspent the evening cleaning and drying the threeskins as best we could by the camp-fire, to lightentheir weight as much as possible.

Meanwhile, I questioned John at considerablelength regarding the nature of his language, butcould get little information, as he seemed unable toconvey his ideas on the subject in our tongue. Thelanguage of the Skowlitz tribe to which he and Sey-mour belong, is a strange medley of gutturals, aspi-rates, coughs, sneezes, throat scrapings, and a fewwords I said:

" Your language don't seem to have as manywords as ou.rs."

"No; English too much. Alake awful tired learnhim."

" Where did you learn it?""O, I work in pack train for Hudson Bay one

year, and work on boat one year."" Where did the boat run?""She run nort from Victoria," he said." Where to, Alaska?""O, I dunno.""How far north?""O, I dunno. Take seven day. We go to de

mout of de river."" What river? What was the name of the town?""0, I dunno know what you call 'em."And thus I learned, by continued questioning,

that he did not know or remember the Englishnames of the places he had visited, but that theywere probably in Alaska. He always appealed toSeymour to reply to any of my questions that he

9


could not himself answer, and a question or remarkthat in our tongue liad taken a dozen words toexpress he would repeat in a cough, a throat-clearingsound, and a grunt or two. Seymour's answer wouldbe returned in a half sneeze, a lisp, a suppressedwhistle, a slight groan, and an upturning of the eye.Then John would look thoughtful while framingthe answer into his pigin English, and it wouldcome back, for instance, something like this:

" Seymo say he tink we ketch plenty sheep up datbig mountain, on de top" Or, "He say he tinkmaybe we get plenty grouse down de creek. To-morrow we don't need carry meat," etc. Johnseemed to regard Seymour as a perfect walkingcyclopedia of knowledge, and, in fact, he was wellinformed on woodcraft, the habits of birds andanimals, Indian lore, and other matters pertaining toThe country in which he lived, but outside of theselimits he knew much less than John.

I was disgusted with his pretended inability tospeak or understand English, for on one of myformer visits to the village I had heard him speakit, and he did it much better than John could.Beside, Pean had told me that Seymour hadattended school at the mission on the Frazer river,and could even read and write, but now that he hadan interpreter he considered it smart, just as a greatmany Indians do, to affect an utter ignorance of ourlanguage. I asked him why he did not tailk;" toldhim I knew he could talk, and reminded him that Ihad heard him speak good English; that I knew hehad been to school, etc. He simply shook his headand grunted. Then I told him he was a boiled-down

A.ND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 131

fool to act thus, and that if he really wanted toappear smarter even than his fellows, the best wayto do it was to make use of the education he hadwhenever he could make himself more useful andagreeable by so doing. I saw by the way he changedcountenance that he understood every word I said,though he still remained obstinate. On severaloccasions, however, I suddenly fired some short,sharp question at him when he was not expecting it,and before stopping to think he would answer ingood English.

CHAPTER XVII.

'TER making a hearty breakfast onRocky Mountain kid, salmon, and seabiscuits, we began our return journey

down the creek in a drizzling rain.Our burdens were increased by theweight of the three goat skins, andthe walking was rendered still

more precarious than before bythe logs, grass, soil, pine needles,

and everything else having becomeso thoroughly watersoaked. If we

had had hard climbing up the steep pitches on ouroutbound cruise, we had it still harder now. Wecould not stick in our toe nails as well now asbefore, and even if we stuck in our heels goingdown a hill, they would not stay stuck any betterthan a second-hand postage-stamp. I remem-bered one hill, or carion wall, that in the ascentmade us a great deal of hard work, and muchperturbation of spirit, because it was steep,rocky, and had very few bushes on it that wecould use as derricks by which to raise ourselves.I dreaded the descent of this hill, now that therocks were wet, but we made it safely. Not so,however, the next one we attempted; it was not sorocky as the other, and had a goodly bed of blueclay, with a shallow covering of vegetable mold for

(132)


a surface, with a little grass and a few weeds. Itwas very steep, I think about what an architectwould call a three-quarter pitch, but we essayed itboldly and fearlessly. Seymour was in the lead,his faithful partisan, John, followed, and I consti-tuted the tail end of the procession. We had justgot well over the brow, when the end of a dry hem-lock stick caught in the mansard roof of my left foot;the other end was fast in the ground, and, though Itried to free myself, both ends stuck; the stickplayed a lone hand, but it raised me clear out inspite of my struggles. I uttered a mournful groanas I saw mysel E going, but was as helpless :is a ten-derfoot on a bucking cayuse. My foot was liftedtill my heel punched the small of my back, and myother foot slid out from under me; I spread out likea step ladder, and clawed the air for succor, butthere was not a bush or branch within reach. I thinkI went ten feet before I touched the earth again, andthen I landed head first among John' s legs. He satdown on the back of my neck like a trip-hammer,and we both assaulted Seymour in the rear withsuch violence as to knock Mm clear out. For a fewseconds we were the worst mixed up community thatever lived, I reckon. Arms, legs, guns, hats, packs,and human forms were mingled in one writhing,squirming, surging mass, and groans, shouts, andimprecations, in English, Chinook, and Scowlitz, rent-the air. Every hand was grabbing for something tostop its owner, but there were no friendly stopperswithin reach; if one caught a weed, or a stuntedjuniper, it faded away from his herculean grasp likedry grass before a prairie fire. I seemed to have the

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highest initial velocity of .any member of the expe-dition, and, though in the rear at the start, I was afull length ahead at the finish. We finally allbrought up in a confused mass at the foot of the hill,and it took some time for each man to extricate him-self from the pile, and reclaim his property from thewreck. Strange as it may seem, however, but littledamage was done. There was a skinned nose, abruised knee or two, a sprained wrist, and every-body was painted with mud. All were, however,able to travel, and after that, when going down steephills, the Siwashes kept looking back to see if Iwere coming.

Te performed several dangerous feats that dayand the next, walking along smooth, barkless logs,that lay across some of the deep gorges; in placeswe were thirty feet or more above the ground,. orrather rocks, where a slip would have resulted ininstant death. My hair frequently stood on end, whatlittle I have left, but John and Seymour always wentsafely across and I could not afford to be outdone incourage by these miserable, fish-eating Siwashes, soI followed wherever they led. We read that thewicked stand on slippery places, but I can see thesewicked people, and go them about ten better, for Ihave stood, and even walked, on many of these wetlogs, and they are about the all-firedest slipperyestthings extant, and yet I have not fallen off. I fellonly that once, when I got my foot in the trap, andthat would have downed a wooden man. Just beforehoing into camp that night, John shot a grouse,but we were all too tired and hungry to cook it then,and made our meal on cold kid, fish, and biscuits.

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After supper, however, John dreised the bird and_laid it aside for breakfast, saying we would eachhave a piece of it then. The rain ceased falling atdark, and the stars came out, which greatly revivedour drooping spirits. We gathered large quantitiesof dry wood and bark, so we were able to keep agood fire all night. 1 drew from a half-rotten log, aflat, slab-like piece of pine, whieh at first I failed torecognize. John saw it and said:

" Good. Dat's beech."" Beech," I said. " Why, there' s no beech in this

country.""No, beech wood, make good fire, good kindle,

good what you call him? Good torch."" Oh," I said, " pitch pine, eh?"" Yas, beech pine." And this was as near as he

could get to pitch.About two o'clock in the morning, it commenced_

to rain heavily again, and the poor Indians were soonin a pitable condition, with their blankets and cloth-ing wet through. They sat up the remainder of thenight, feeding the lire to keep it alive and them-selves warm, for they had neither canvas or rubbercoats, or any other kind of waterproof clothing.They put up some of the longer pieces of the bark wehad gathered for fuel, and made a passable shelter,but it was so small, and leaked so badly, that itwas far from comfortable. I pitied the poor fel-lows, but had nothing I could give or even sharewith them for shelter. I got up at five o' clock, and_we commenced preparations for breakfast I toldJohn he had better cook the grouse, but he shookhis head, and said sadly:


" Seymp, he spile de grouse."" How did he do that?" I inquired.

He say put him on stick by fire to cook in denight. Then he go to sleep and stick burn off.Grouse fall in de fire and burn."

" That's too thin," I said. Seymour cookedthat grouse and ate it while you and I were asleep."

Seymour glared at me, but had not the courage toresent or deny the charge. An Indian does not letsleep interfere with his appetite; he eats whateverthere is first, and then sleeps. I divided the last ofthe bacon and biscuits equally between us, and witha remnant of cold broiled salmon, we eked out a.scant breakfast on which to begin a day's work.John was clawing some white greasy substance froma tin can with his fingers, and spreading it on hisbiscuits with the same tools. He passed the can tome, and said:

" Have buttal""No, thanks," I answered; "I seldom eat butter

in camp.""I like him all time," he replied; "I never git

widout butta for brade at home." This by way ofinforming me that he knew what good living was,and practiced it at home. It rained heavily all day,and our tramp through the jungle was most drearyand disagreeable.

" The day was dark, and cold, and dreary;It rained, and the wind was never weary."

About three o' clock in the afternoon, we sat downto rest on the bank of the creek. We had been therebut a few minutes, when a good sized black bearcame shambling along up the bank of the creek,

AND OTHER 'HUNTING ADVENTURES. 139

looking for salmon. The Indians saw him whena hundred yards or more away, and flattened them-selves out on the ground to await his nearerapproach. I raised my rifle to my shoulder, but they

-di v '74

f.

EY FAMILLE

both motioned me to wait, that he was yet too faraway. I disregarded their injunction, however, andpromptly landed an express bullet in the bear'sbreast. He reared, uttered a smothered groan;turned, made one jump, and fell dead. Now arosethe question of saving his skin; it was late, and wewere yet three miles from the Indian village; to skin


the bear then meant to camp there for the night, andas the rain still Caine down in a steady, heavy sheet, Iat once decided that I would not stay out thereanother night for the best hear skin in the country.Seymour and John held a short consultation, andthen John said they wouldcome back and get the skinnext day, and take it in lieu of the money I owed themfor their services. We struck a bargain In about aminute, and hurried on, arriving at the village- just asit grew dark. My rubber coat and high rubber bootsLiad kept me comparatively dry, but the poor Indianswere wet to the skin.

CH AP TE R XVIII.

N arriving at Chehalis John kindlyinvited me to stop over night with him,

but I declined with thanks. I went intohis house, however, to wait while lie got

ready to take me down to Barker' s. Itwas the same type of home that nearlyall these Indians have a large clap-

board building about eight feet high, with smokedsalmon hung everywhere and a fire in the centreof the room, which, by the way, was more of asmoke than fire, curing the winter provender. Apile of wood lay in one corner of the room, someempty barrels in another, fish-nets were hung in stillanother, and the family lived, principally, in thefourth. John lives with his father-in-law, mother-in-law, two brothers-in-law, one sister-in-law, his wifeand three papooses. Blankets, pots, tinware andgrub of various kinds were piled up promiscuously inthis living corner, and the little undressed kids hov-ered and shivered around the dull fire, suffering fromthe cold. We were soon in the canoe again, en routeto the steamboat landing, where we arrived soon afterdark. I regretted to part with John, for I had foundhim a good, faithful servant and staunch friend. Iwas glad to get rid of Seymour, however, for I hadlearned that he was a contemptible sneak, and toldhim so in as many words.

(141)

142 CHUISINGS IN THE CASCADES

En route home I had about two hours to wait at,Port Moody for the boat. There were great numbersof grebes and ducks in the bay, and I asked the dockforeman if there was any rule against shooting there.He said he guessed not ; he had never seen anyone,shooting there, but he guessed there wouldn't be anyobjection. I got out my rifle and two boxes of cart-ridges and opened on the birds. The ducks left at.once, but the grebes sought safety in diving, and assoon as the fusillade began a number of gulls camehovering around, apparently to learn the cause ofthe racket. I had fine sport between the two, and alarge audience to enjoy it with me. In ten minutesfrom the time I commenced shooting all the clerksin the dock office, all the freight hustlers in thewarehouse, all the railroad section men, the ticket-agent and baggage-master, numbering at leasttwenty men in the aggregate, were clustered aroundme, and their comments on my rifle and shootingwere extremely amusing. Not a man in the partyhad ever before seen a Winchester express, and theracket it made, the way in which the balls plowedup the water, and the way the birds, when hit, van-ished into thin air and a few feathers, were myste-ries far beyond their power to solve. At the first lullin the firing half a dozen of them rushed up andwanted to examine the rifle, the fancy finish andcombination sights of which were as profoundlystrange to them as to the benighted Indians. Theysoon handed it back to me, however, with the requestto resume hostilities against the birds ; they pre-ferred to see the old thing work rather than to handleit. The gulls were soaring in close, and six shots,


rapidly delivered, dropped three of them into thewater, mutilated beyond recognition. This wasthe climax ; the idea of killing birds on the wing,with a rifle, was something these men had neverbefore heard of, and two or three examined my cart-ridges to see if they were not loaded with shot,instead of bullets. When they found this suspicionwas groundless they were beside themselves withwonder and admiration of the strange arm. As amatter of fact., it required no particular skill to killthe gulls on the wing, for they were the large grayvariety, and frequently came within twenty or thirtyfeet of me, so that anyone who could kill them witha shotgun could do so with a rifle.

Finally the steamer came in and I went aboard.The train arrived soon after and several 4 its passen-gers boarded the boat. The gulls were now hover-ing about the steamer, picking up whatever particlesof food were thrown overboard from the cook-room.One old Irishman, who had come in on the trainfrom the interior wilds, walked out on the quarterdeck and looking at them intently for a few minutes,turned to me and inquired :

" Phwat kind of burds is thimgeese ?""Yes," I said, " thim's geese, I reckon."" Well, be gorry, if I had a gunthere I'd shoot

some o' thim" ; and he went and told his companions" there was a flock of the tamest wild geese out thareye iver sawed."

The return journey to Portland was without inci-dent. There I boarded the steamer and spentanother delightful day on the broad bosom of theColumbia river, winding up among the grand basaltic

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144C

RU

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cliffs and towering mountain peaks of the CascadeRange. Again the little camera came into requisi-tion, and though the day was cloudy and blusterous,though snow fell at frequent intervals, and thoughthe steamer trembled like a reed shaken by the wind,I made a dozen or more exposures on the most inter-esting and beautiful subjects as we passed them, andto my surprise many carne out good pictures. Mostof them lack detail in the deeper shadows, but theresults altogether show that had the day been clearand bright all would have been perfect. In short, itis possible with this dry-plate process to make goodpictures from a moving steamboat, or even from arailway train going at a high rate of speed. I madethree pictures from a Northern Pacific train, comingthrough the I3ad Lands, when running twenty-fivemiles an hour, and though slightly blurred in thenear foreground, the buttes and bluffs, a hundredyards and further away, are as sharp as if I had beenstanding on the ground and the camera on a tripod;and a snap shot at a prairie-dog townjust as thetrain slowed on a heavy gradeshows several of thelittle rodents in various poses, some of them appar-ently trying to look pretty while having their " pict.ures took."

10

CHAPTER XIX.

stopped off atSpokane Falls,on my way

home, for a fewdays' deer hunt-

', in, and thoughthat region be not exactly in the Cas-

cades, it is so near that a few points inrelation to the sport there may be

admissible in connection with theforegoing narrative. I hadadvised my good friend, Dr.C. S. Penfield, of my corn-

b/ ino,l and he had kindly

AP% 4r"'

planned for me a hunt-

";.ing trip. On the morn-ing after my arrivalhis brother-in-law, Mr.T. E. Jefferson, tookme up behind a pair ofgood roadsters anddrove to Johnston'sranch, eighteen milesfrom the falls, and near

the foot of Mount Carle-ton, where we hoped to find

plenty of deer. We hunted(146)


there two days, and though we found signs reason-ably plentiful and saw three or four deer we wereunable to kill any. Mr. Jefferson burned somepowder after a buck and a doe the first morningafter our arrival, but it was his. first experience in

7___ .: deer hunting, so it is not at

..:_,, _,..__ j all strange that' the game0 7.7..-74, --.1 '77.- _7 I should have escaped. Mr.

Jefferson Was compelled to

-

THE STAGE RANCH.

return home at that time on account of a businessengagement, but Mr. Johnston, with characteristicWestern hospitality and kindness, said I mustnot leave without a shot, and so hooked up histeam and drove me twenty-five miles fartherinto the mountains, to a place where he said wewould surely find plenty of game. On the wayin we picked up old Billy Cowgill, a famous deerhunter in this region, and took him along as guide.

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We stopped at Brooks' stage ranch, on the Colvilleroad to rest the team, and the proprietor gave us anamusing account of some experiments he had beenmaking in shooting buckshot from a muzzle-loadingshotgun. He liad made some little bags of buck-skin, just large enough to hold twelve No. 2 buck-shot, and after tilling them had sewed up the ends.He shot a few of them at a tree sixty yards away,but they failed to spread and all went into one hole.Then he tried leaving the front end of the bag open,and still they acted as a solid ball; Ho he had to aban-don the scheme, and loaded the charge loose, as of old.He concluded, however, not to fire this last -load atthe target, and hung the gun up in its usual place.A few days later he heard the dog barking in thewoods a short distance from the house, and supposedit had treed a porcupine. Mr. Brooks' brother, whowas visiting at the time, took the gun and went outto kill the game, whatever it might be. On reachingthe place, he found a ruffed grouse sitting in a tree,at which he fired. The ranchman said he heard thereport, and his brother soon came back, carrying abadly-mutilated bird; he threw it into the kitchen,and put the gun away; then he sat down, lookedthoughtful, and kept silent for a long time. Finallyhe blurted out:

" Say, Tom; that gun got away from me."" How was that ?" queried the ranchman."I don' t know; but I shot pretty near straight up

at the grouse, and somehow the gun slipped off myshoulder and done this." And opening his coat heshowed his vest, one side of which was split fromtop to bottom; lie then took out a handful of his


watch and held it upone case was torn off, thecrystal smashed, the dial caved in, and the runninggear all mixed up. The ranchman said he guessedhe had put one of the buckskin bags of shot intothat barrel, and forgetting that fact, had added theloose charge. He said he reckoned twenty-four No.2 buckshot made too heavy a load for an eight-poundgun.

We reached "Peavine Jimmy's " mining cabin,which was to be our camp, at three o'clock in theafternoon, and busied ourselves till dark in the usualduties of cooking, eating, and gathering wood. OldBilly proved a very interesting character; he is asimple, quiet, honest, unpretentious old man, andunlike most backwoodsmen, a veritable coward. Hehas the rare good sense, however, to admit it frankly,and thus disarms criticism. In fact, his frequentadmission of this weakness is amusing. He saysthat for fear of getting lost he does not like to go offa trail when hunting, unless there is snow on theground, so that he can track himself back into camp.He rides an old buckskin pony that is as modest andgentle as its master. Billy says he often gets lostwhen he does venture away from the trail, but insuch cases he just gives old Buck the rein, hits him aslap, and tells him to go to camp and he soon getsthere. He told us a bear story that night, worthy ofrepetition. Something was said that reminded himof it, and he mentioned it, but added, modestly,that he didn't know as we cared for any bearstories. But we said we were very fond of them,and urged the recital.

" Well, then," he said, if you will wait a minute,

150 CHITISINGS IN THE CASCADES

I'll take a drink of water first and then I'll tell it toyou," and he laughed a kind of boyish titter, andbegan:

" Well, me and three other fellers was up northin the Colville country, huntin', and all the otherfellows was crazy to kill a bear. I didn't want tokill no bear, and didn't expect to. I'm as 'feard asdeath of a bear, and hain't no use for 'em. All Iwanted to kill was a deer. The other fellers, theywanted to kill some deer, too, but they wanted bearthe worst. So one mornin' we all started out, andthe other fellers they took the best huntin' ground,and said I'd better go down along the creek and seeif I couldn't kill some grouse, for they didn't believeI could kill anything bigger' n that; and I said, allright, and started off down the creek. Purty soon Icome to an old mill that wasn't runnin' then. Andwhen I got purty near to the mill I set down on alog, for I didn't think it was worth while to go anyfurder, for I didn't think I woul« find any gamedown the creek, and I didn't care much whether Idid or not. Well, I heard a kind of a racket in themill, and durned if there wasn't a big black bearright in the mill. And I watched him a little bit,and he started out towards me. And I said to my-self, says I, Now Billy, here's your chance to killa bear.'

"I hadn't never killed no bear before, nor neverseed one before, and durned if I wasn't skeerednearly to death. But I thought there wasn't no useof runnin', for I knowed he could run faster'n Icould, so I took out my knife and commenced cut-tin' down the brush in front of me, for I wanted to

AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES.

make a shure shot if I did shoot, if I could. Andthe bear, he come out of the mill and rared up, andput his paws on a log and looked at me, and Isaid to myself, says I, Now Billy, this is yourtime to shoot' ; but I wasn't ready to shoot y-it. Theywas one more bush I wanted to cut out of the waybefore I shot, so I cut if off and laid down my knife,and then I took up my gun and tried to take aim athis breast, but doggoned if I didn't shake so Icouldn't see the sights at all. And I thought onetime I wouldn't shoot, and then I knowed the otherfellers would laugh at me if I told 'em I seed a bearand didn't shoot at him, and besides I was afraidsome of 'em was up on the hillside lookin' at methen. So I just said to myself, says I, Now Billy,you're goin' to get eat up if you don't kill him, butyou might as well be eat up as to be laughed at.'So I jist took the best aim I could for shakin', an'shet both eyes an' pulled.

"Well, I think the bear must a begin to git downjist as I pulled, for I tore his lower jaw off and shota big hole through one side of his neck. He howledand roared and rolled around there awhile and thenhe got still. I got round where I could see him, afterhe quit kickin', but I was afeared to go up to him,so 1 shot two more bullets through his head to makesure of him. And then I set down and waited a longwhile to see if he moved any more; for I was afeardhe mightn't be dead yit, and might be playin' possum,jist to get ahold of me. But he didn't move no more,so I went up to him with my gun cocked and pointedat his head, so if he did move I could give him anotherone right quick. An' then I punched him a little with

1152 CRUISING'S IN THE CASCADES.

my gun, but he didn't stir. An' when I found hewas real dead I took my knife and cut off one of hisclaws, an' then I went back to camp, the biggestfeelin' old cuss you ever seed.

"Well, arter while the other fellers they all comein, lookin' mighty blue, for they hadn't any of ' emkilled a thing, an' when I told 'em l'd killed a bear,they wouldn't believe it till I showed 'em the claw.An' then they wouldn't believe it, neither, for theythought I' cl bought the claw of some Tulin. And theywouldn't believe it at all till they went out with meand seed the bear and helped skin 'im, and cut 'imup, and pack 'im into camp. An they was the dog-gondest, disappointedest lot of fellers you ever seed,for we hunted five days longer, an' nary one of 'emgot to kill a bear nor even see one. They thought Iwas the poorest hunter and the biggest coward in thelot, but I was the only one that killed a bear thatclip."

CHAPTER XX.

E were out at daylight the next morningand hunted all day with fair success.Johnston and Billy jumped a bunch offive mule-deer, a buck, two does, andtwo fawns. Johnston fired fourteenshots at them before they got out ofthe country, and killed the two does.

In speaking of it afterward Billy said he was justtaking a good aim at the old buck's eye whenJohnston's gun cracked the first time, and. of

course the buck ran, so he did not get a shot." But why didn't you shoot at him running?" I

inquired."Because I can't hit a jumpin' deer," he replied,

frankly, " and I hate like thunder to miss."I spent the day about a mile from camp on top of

Blue Grouse Mountain, a prominent landmark ofthe country. A heavy fog hung about the mount-ain and over the surrounding country until aboutthree o'clock in the afternoon, when it lifted anddisclosed a view of surpassing loveliness. Away tothe west and southwest there was a level tract ofswampy, heavily timbered country about thirtymiles long and ten miles wide. I looked down onthe tops of the trees composing this vast forest, and_they appeared at this distance not unlike a vast fieldof hall-grown green grain. Beyond this tract to the

(153)

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west a chain of hills wound in serpentine curvesfrom north to south, their parks and bits of prairiegleaming in the sun like well-made farms. To thenorth lay Loon Lake nestling among the pine-cladhills, its placid bosom sparkling in the setting sunlike a sheet of silver. Farther to the north andnortheast were two other lakes of equal size andbeauty, while far distant in the east were severallarge bodies of prairie separated by strips of pineand fir. I longed for my camera, but on account ofthe unfavorable outlook of the morning, I had notbrought the instrument.

The following morning promised no better, for thefog hung like a pall over the whole country; but Itook the little detective with me, hoping the mistwould lift as before; in this, however, I was disap-pointed. I staid on the mountain from early morn-ing till half-past three, and there being then no pros-pect of a change went down. Just as I reached thebase I saw a rift in the clouds, and supposing thelong-wished change in the weather was about totake place, I turned and began the weary climb, butagain the fog settled down, and I was at last com-pelled to return to camp without the coveted views.I made several exposures during the day on crook ed,deformed, wind-twisted trees on the top of themountain, which, strange to say, carne out good.The fog was so dense at the time that one could notsee fifty yards. I used a small stop and. gave eachplate from five to twenty seconds, and found,, whendeveloped, that none of them were over exposed.while those given the shorter time were -underexposed. That day's hunting resulted in three more


deer, and as we then had all the meat, our team couldtake out up the steep hills near camp, we decided tostart for home the next morning. While seatedaround our blazing log fire in the old cabin that night,

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ARE YOU LOOKING FOR US?

Mr. Johnston entertained us with some interestingreminiscences of his extensive experience in the WestHe has been a "broncho buster," a stock ranchman,and a cow-boy by turns, and a recital of his variedexperiences in these several lines would fill a bigbook. Among others, he told us that he once lived


in a. portion of California where the ranchmen raised' a great many hogs, but allowed them to range at will

in the hills and mountains from the time they werelittered until old enough and large enough formarket; that in this time they became as wild asdeer and as savage as peccaries, so that the only waythey could ever be reclaimed and marketed was tocatch them with large, powerful dogs, trained to thework. Their feet were then securely tied with strongthongs, and they were muzzled and packed intomarket or to the ranches, as their owners desired, onhorses or mules.

Johnston had a pair of these dogs, and used toassist his neighbors in rounding up their wild hogs.In one case, he and several other men went with anold German ranchman away up into the mountainsto bring out a drove of these pine-skinners, many ofwhom had scarcely seen a human being since theywere pigs, and at sight of the party the hogs stam-peded of course, and rah like so many deer. The dogswere turned loose, took up a trail, and soon. had avicious critter by the ears, when the packers came up,muzzled and tied it securely. The dogs were thenturned loose again, and another hog was rounded upin the same way. These two were hung onto a pack-animal with their backs down, their feet lashedtogether .ox er the pack-saddle, and their long, sharp.snouts pointing toward the horse's head. They wereduly cinched, and the horse turned loose to join thetrain. This operation was repeated until the holeherd was corralled and swung into place on the horses,and the squealing, groaning, and snorting of the ter-rified brutes was almost deafening. One pair of hogs

o


were loaded on a little mule which had never beenaccustomed to this work, and, as the men were allengaged in handling the other animals, the old ranch-man said he would- lead this mule down the mountainhimself. Johnston and his partner cinched the hogson in good shape, while the Dutchman hung tothe mule.

As they were giving the ropes the final pull, John' s-ton gave his chum a wink, and they both slippedout their knives, cut the muzzles off the porkers whenthe old man was looking the other way, and toldhim to go ahead. He started down the trail towingthe little mule, which did not relish its load in theleast, by the halter. The hogs were struggling tofree themselves, and, as the thongs began to cut intotheir legs, they got mad and began to bite the mule.

Then there was trouble; stiff-legged bucking setin, and mule and hogs were churned up and down,and changed ends so rapidly that for a few minutesit was hard to tell which of the three animals was onthe outside, the inside, the topside, or the bottom-side. The poor little mule was frantic with rage andfright, and what a mule can not and will not dounder such circumstances, to get rid of a load can notbe done by any four-footed beast. He pawed theair, kicked, and brayed, jumped backward, forward,and sidewise, and twisted himself into every imag-inable shape. The old Dutchman was as badly stam-peded as the mule; he shouted, yanked, and sworein Dutch, English, and Spanish; he yelled to themen above to come and help him, but they were soconvulsed and doubled up with laughter that theycould not have helped him if they would.

160 CRUISINGS IN 111E CASCADES

Finally, the mule got away from the old man andwent tearing down into the carion ; he overtook andpassed the balance of the pack-train, stampeded themalmost beyond control Of the packers, and knockedthe poor hogs against trees and brush until they werealmost dead. He ran nearly six miles, and beingunable to get rid of his pack, fell exhausted and laythere until the men came up and took charge of him.The old man accused Johnston of cutting the muzzles

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THE BUCKER AND THE BUSTER.

off the hogs, but he and his partner both denied it,said they certainly must have slipped off, and theyfinally convinced him that that was the way thetrouble came about.

This, with sundry other recitals of an equallyinteresting nature, caused the evening to pass pleas-antly, and at a late hour we turned into our bunks.We were up and moving long before daylight thenext morning, and as soon as we could see the trail

_

hooked up the team and attempted to go, but, alasfor our hopes of an early start, one of the horsesrefused to pull at the very outsetin short, he balkedand no mule ever balked worse. Johnston plied thebuckskin until the horse refused to stand it anylonger and began to rear and to throw himself onthe tongue, back in the harness, etc. Johnston got offthe wagon, went to the animal' s head and tried to leadit, but the brute would not be led any more than itwould be driven, and commenced rearing and strik-ing at its master as if trying to kill him. Thisaroused the ire of the ranchman and he picked up apiece of a board, about four inches wide and threefeet long, and fanned the vicious critter right vigor-ously. I took a hand in the game, at Johnston'srequest, and warmed the cayuse's latter half to thebest of my ability with a green hemlock gad. Hebucked and backed, reared. and ranted, pawed,pitched, plunged and pranced, charged, cavortedand kicked, until it seemed that he would surelymake shreds of the harness and kindling woodof the wagon ; but the whole outfit staid with him,including Johnston and myself.

We wore out his powers of endurance if not his hide,and he finally got down to business, took the load upthe hill and home to the ranch, without manifestingany further inclination to strike. We reached theranch about nine o'clock at night, and the next dayJohnston drove me into Spokane Falls, where, in duetime, I caught the train for home.

Spokane Falls is a growing, pushing town, andthe falls of the Spokane river, from which the towntakes its name, afford one of the most beautiful and

11


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interesting sights on the line of the Northern Pacificroad. There are over a dozen distinct falls within ahalf a mile, one of which is over sixty feet in per-pendicular height. Several of these falls are splitinto various channels by small islands or pillars ofbasaltic rock. At one place, where two of thesechannels unite in a common plunge into a smallpool, the water is thrown up in a beautiful, shell-like crone of white foam, to a height of nearly sixfeet. It is estimated by competent engineers thatthe river at this point furnishes a, water-power equalin the aggregate to that of the Mississippi at St.Anthony's Falls. Every passenger over this routeshould certainly stop off and spend a few hoursviewing the falls of the Spokane river.

-1'`'.-5:.e...6-1,.74

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CHAPTER XXI.

HUNTING THE GRIZZLY BEAR.

TIE bear, like man, inhabits almost everylatitude and every land, and has

even been translated to thestarry heavens, where theconstellations of the Great

Dipper and the Little. Dipper areknown to us as well as to the ancients as

Ursi Major and Minor. But North Americafurnishes the largest and most aggressive speciesin the grizzly (Ursus horribilis), the black (Ursusamericanus), and the polar (Ursus maritimus)bears, and here the hunter finds his most daringsport. Of all the known plantigrades (flat-footedbeasts) the grizzly is the most savage and the mostdreaded, and he is the largest of all, saving thepresence of his cousin the polar bear, for which,nevertheless, he is more than a match in strengthand courage. Some specimens measure seven feetfroM tip of nose to root of tail. The distinctivemarks of the species are its great size; the shortnessof the tail as compared with the ears; the huge flatPaws, the sole of the bind foot sometimes measur-ing seven and a half by five inches in a large male;the length of the bind legs as compared with thefore legs, which gives the beast his awkward, sham-bling gait; the long claws of the fore foot, sometimesseven inches in length, while those of the hind foot

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measure only three or four; the erect, bristling maneof stiff hair, often six inches long; the coarse hairof the body, sometimes three inches long, dark atthe base, but with light tips. He has a dark stripealong the back, and one along each side, the hair onhis body being, as a rule, a brownish-yellow, theregion around the ears dusky, the legs nearly black,and the muzzle pale. Color, however, is not a dis-tinctive mark, for female grizzlies have been killedin company with two cubs, one of which was brown,the other gray, or one dark, the other light; and thesupposed species of " cinnamon " and " brown "bears are merely color variations of Ursus horribilishim self.

This ubiquitous gentleman has a wide range for hishabitat. He has been found on the Missouri riverfrom Fort Pierre northward, and thence west to hisfavorite haunts in the Rockies; on the Pacific slopeclear down to the coast; as far south as Mexico, and asfar north as the Great Slave Lake in British America.He not only ranges everywhere, but eats everything.His majesty is a good liver. He is not properly abeast of prey, for he has neither the cat-like instincts,nor the noiseless tread of the felidce, nor is he fleetand long-winded like the wolf, although good at ashort run, as an unlucky hunter may find. But liehangs about the flanks of a herd of buffalo, withprobably an eye to a wounded or disabled animal,and he frequently raids a ranch and carries off asheep, hog, or calf that is penned beyond the possi-bility of escape.

Elk is his favorite meat, and the knowing hunterwho has the good luck to kill an elk makes sure


that its carcass will draw Mr. Grizzly if he is withina range of five miles. He will eat not only flesh,fish, and fowl, but roots, herbs, fruit, vegetables,honey, and insects as well. Plums, buffalo-berries,

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DEATH AD THE CAUSE OF IT.

and choke-cherries make a large part of his diet intheir seasons.

The grizzly bear possesses greater vitality andtenacity of life than any other animal on .the conti-nent, and the hunter who would hunt him must bewell armed and keep a steady nerve. Each shot mustbe cooly pgt where it will do the most good. Several

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are frequently necessary to stop one of these savagebeasts. A single bullet lodged in the brain is fatal.If shot through the heart he may run a quarter ofa mile or kill a man before he succumbs. In thedays of the old muzzle-loading rifle it was hazard-ous indeed to hunt the grizzly, and many a man haspaid the penalty of his folly with his life. Withour improved breech-loading and repeating riflesthere is less risk.

The grizzly is said to bury carcasses of large ani-mals for future use as food, but this I doubt. Ihave frequently returned to carcasses of elk or deerthat I had killed and, found that during my absencebears had partially destroyed them, and in theirexcitement, occasioned by the smell or taste of freshmeat, had pawed up the earth a good deal there-about, throwing dirt and leaves in various directions,and some of this débris may have fallen on thebodies of the dead game; bull have never seen whereany systematic attempt had been made at burying acarcass. Still, Bruin may have playad the sexton insome cases. He hibernates during winter, but doesnot take to his long sleep until the winter hasthoroughly set in and the snow is quite deep. Hemay frequently be tracked and found in snow a footdeep, where he is roaming in search of food. Hebecomes very fat before going into winter quarters,and this vast accumulation of oil furnishes nutrimentand heat sufficient to sustain life 'during his longconfinement.

The newspapers often kill grizzlies weighing 1,500,1,800, or even 2,000 pounds, and in any party offrontiersmen "talking grizzly" you will find plenty


of men who can give date and place where theykilled or helped to kill at least 1,800 -pounds ofBruin..

"Did you weigh it?""No, we didn't weigh 'im; but every man as seed

'im said he would weigh that, and they was all goodjedges, too."

And this is the way most of the stories of big bear,big elk, big deer, etc., begin and end. Bears areusually, though not always, killed at considerabledistances from towns, or even ranches, where it isnot easy to find a scales large enough to weigh somuch meat.

The largest grizzly I have ever killed would notweigh more than 700 or 800 pounds, and l- do notbelieve one has ever lived that would weigh 1,000pounds. The flesh of the adult grizzly is tough,stringy, and decidedly unpalatable, but that of ayoung fat one is tender and juicy, and is always awelcome dish on the hunter's table.

The female usually gives birth to two cubs, andsometimes three, at a time. At birth they weighonly about lt to 1i pounds each. The grizzly breedsreadily in confinement, and several litters have beenproduced in the Zoological Gardens at Cincinnati.The female is unusually vicious while rearing heryoung, and the hunter Must be doubly cautiousabout attacking at that time. An Indian rarelyattacks a grizzly single-handed at any time, and it isonly when several of these native hunters are togetherthat they will attempt to kill one. They value the

'claws very highly, however, and take great pride inwearing strings of them around their necks.


The grizzly usually frequents the timbered orbrush-covered portions of mountainous regions, orthe timbered valleys of streams that head in themountains. He occasionally follows down the courseof these streams, and even travels many miles fromone stream to another, or from one range of mount-ains to another, across open prairie. I once foundone on a broad open plateau in the Big HornMountains, about half a mile from the nearestcover of any kind He was turning over rocks insearch of worms. At the report of my rifle he startedfor the nearest cation, but never reached it. Anexplosive bullet through his lungs rendered himunequal to the journey.

Few persons believe that a grizzly will attack aman before he is himself attacked. I was one ofthese doubting Thomases until a few years ago,when I was thoroughly convinced by ocular demon-stration that some grizzlies, at least, will attempt tomake a meal off a man even though he may not haveharmed them previously. We were hunting in theShoshone Mountains in Northern Wyoming. I hadkilled a large elk in the morning, and on going backto the carcass in the afternoon to skin it we saw thatBruin had been there ahead us, but liad fled on ourapproach. Without the least apprehension of hisreturn, we leaned our rifles against a tree about fiftyfeet-away, and commenced work. There were threeof us, but only two rifles, Mr. Huffman, the photog-rapher, having left his in camp He had finishedtaking views of the carcass, and we were all busilyengaged skinning, when, hearing a crashing in thebrush and a series of savage roars and growls, we


looked up the hill, and were horrified to see threegrizzly bears, an old female and two cubs about two-thirds grown, charging upon us with all the savagefury of a pack of starving wolves upon a sheepfold.

To make a long story short, we killed the oldfemale and one cub; the other escaped into the jun-gle before we could get a shot at him. The resolutefront we put on alone saved our lives.

In another instance, when hunting deer in Idaho,I came suddenly upon a female grizzly and two cubs,when the mother bear charged me savagely andwould have killed me had I not fortunately con-trolled my nerves long enough to put a couple ofbullets through her and stop her before she gotto me.

I have heard of several other instances of grizzliesmaking unprovoked attacks on men, which were sowell substantiated that I could not question thetruth of the reports.

The grizzly is partially nocturnal in his habits,and apparently divides his labor of obtaining foodand his traveling about equally between day andnight. It is not definitely known to what age helives in his wild state, but he is supposed to attainto twenty-five or thirty years. Several have lived indomestication to nearly that age, and one died inUnion Park, Chicago, a few years ago, that wasknown to be eighteen years old.

Notwithstanding the great courage and ferocity ofthis formidable beast, he will utter the most pitiablegroans and howls when seriously or mortallywounded.

Two brothers were prospecting in a range of mount-


ains near the headwaters of the Stinking Waterriver. The younger of the two, though an able-bodied man, and capable of doing a good day's -workwith a pick or shovel, was weak-minded, and theelder brother never allowed him to go any distanceaway from camp or their work alone. He, however,sent him one evening to the spring, a few rods off,to bring a kettleful of water. The spring was in adeep gorge, and the trail to it wound through somefissures in the rock. As the young man passedunder a shelving rock, an immense old female grizzly,that had taken up temporary quarters there, reachedout and struck a powerful blow at his head, but for-tunately could not reach far enough to do him anyserious harm. The blow knocked his hat off, andher claws caught his scalp, and laid it open clearacross the top of his head in several ugly gashes.The force of the blow sent him spinning around, andnot knowing enough to be frightened, he attackedher savagely with the only weapon he had at hand-the camp kettle.

The elder brother heard the racket, and hastilycatchng up his rifle and hurrying to the scene of thedisturbance, found his brother vigorously belabor-ing the bear over the head with the camp kettle,and the bear striking savage blows at him, anyone of which, if she could have reached him,would have torn his head from his shoulders.Three bullets from the rifle, fired in rapid succession,loosened her hold upon the rocks, and she tumbledlifelessly into the trail. The poor idiotic boy couldnot even then realize the danger through which hehad passed, and could only appease his anger by


continuing to maul the bear over the head with thecamp kettle for several minutes after she was dead.

Some years ago I went into the mountains with aparty of friends to hunt elk. Our guide told us weshould find plenty of grouse along the trail, fromthe day we left the settlements; that on the thirdday out we should find elk, and that it would there-fore be useless to burden our pack-horses with meat.We accordingly took none save a small piece ofbacon.

Contrary to his predictions, however, we found nogrouse or other small game en route, and soon ate upour bacon. Furthermore, we were five days inreaching the elk country, instead of three as lie said.All this time we were climbing mountains and hadappetites that are known only to mountain climbers.We had plenty of bread and potatoes, but thesewere not sufficient. We hankered for flesh, andthough we filled ourselves with vegetable food, yetwere we hungry.

Finally we reached our destination at midday.While we were unloading the horses, a " fool hen"came and lit in a tree near us. A rifle ball beheadedher, and almost before she was done kicking shewas in the frying pan.

A negro once had a bottle of whisky, and wasmaking vigorous efforts to get outside of it, when achum came up and asked for a pull at it. 0, g' long,nigger," said the happy owner of the corn juice." What's one bottle of whisky 'mong one man?"And what was one little grouse among five half-starved men? The smell and taste only made uslong for more.


After dinner we all went out and hunted untildark. Soon after leaving camp some of us heardlively firing up the canon, where our guide hadgone, and felt certain that he had secured meat, forwe had heard glowing accounts, from him and hisfriends, of his prowess as a hunter. The rest of uswere not so despondent, therefore, when we returnedat dusk empty handed, as we should otherwise havebeen, until we reached camp and found the guidethere wearing a long face and bloodless hands.

He told a doleful story of having had five fairshots at a large bull elk, who stood broadside on, onlyseventy-five yards away, but who finally becamealarmed at the fusilade and fled, leaving no bloodon his trail. The guide of course anathematizedhis gun in the choicest terms known to frontiersmen,and our mouths watered as we thought of whatmight have been.

Our potatoes, having been compelled to stand formeat also, had vanished rapidly, and we ate the lastof them for supper that night. Few words werespoken and no jokes cracked over that meal. Weate bread straight for breakfast, and turning outearly hunted diligently all day. We were nearlyfamished when we returned at night and no one hadseen any living thing larger than a pine squirrel.It is written that " man shall not live by breadalone," and we found that we could not much longer.And soon we should not have even that, for ourflour was getting low. But we broke the steamingflat-cake again at slipper, and turned in to dream ofjuicy steaks, succulent joints, and delicious ribroasts.


We were up before daylight to find that six oreight inches of light snow had fallen silently duringthe night, which lay piled up on the branches ofthe trees, draping the dense forests in ghostly white.Our drooping spirits revived, for we hoped that thetell-tale mantle would enable us to lind the game weso much needed in our business. We broke ourbread more cheerfully that morning than for twodays previously, but at the council of war held overthe frugal meal, decided that unless we scored thatday we must make tracks for the nearest ranch thenext morning, and try to make our scanty rem-nant of flour keep us alive until we could get there.

Breakfast over we scattered ourselves by the fourpoints of the compass and set out. It fell to my lotto go up the canon. Silently I strode through theforest, scanning the snow in search of foot-prints,but for an hour I could see none. Then, as I cautiouslyascended a ridge, I heard a crash in the brushbeyond and reached the summit just in time to seethe latter end of a large bull elk disappear in thethicket.

He had not heard or seen me, but had winded me,and tarried not for better acquaintance. I followed histrail some three miles up the carton, c Irefullypenetrating the thickets and peering among thelarger trees, but never a glimpse could I get andnever a sound could I hear of him. He seemedunusually wild. I could see by his trail that he hadnot stopped, but had kept straight away on thatlong, swinging trot that is such a telling gait of thespecies, and which they will sometimes keep up forhours together. Finally I came to where he had

AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 1_75

left the cation and ascended the mountain. I fol-lowed up this for a time, but seeing that he had notyet paused, and finding that my famished conditionrendered me unequal to the climb, was compelled toabandon the pursuit and with a heavy heart returnagain to the ea:1'ton. I kept on up it, but could findno other game pr sign of any Like the red hunter,in the time of famine, who

" Vainly walked through the forest,Sought for bird, or beast, and found none;Saw no track of deer or rabbit,In the snow beheld no foot-prints,In the ghostly gleaming forestFell Lnd could not rise from weakness,"

so I trudged on until, wearied and worn out, I laydown beside a giant fir tree, whose spreadingbranches had kept the snow from the ground, andfell asleep. When I awoke my joints were stiff andsore, and I was chilled to the bone. It was late inthe afternoon, and a quiet, drizzling rain had set in.

I found the trail that led through the cation, andstarted back to camp, trudging along as rapidly aspossible, for hunger was gnawing at my vitals andmy strength was fast failing.

" Over snow-fields waste and pathless,Under snow-encumbered branches,Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,"

I toiled wearily on. The snow had become satu-rated with the rain, and great chunks of it werefalling from the trees with dull, monotonous sounds." Slush, slush," Splash, splash," came the gloomysounds from all parts of the woods. I was nearingcamp, and had abandoned all hope of seeing game.

"


My only object was to reach shelter, to rest, andfeast on the unsatisfying bread. I heard a succes-sion of the splashings that came from my left withsuch regular cadence as to cause me to look up,when, great St. Hubert ! there came a huge grizzlybear shambling and splashing along through thewet show. It was his footsteps that I had beenhearing for a minute or two past, and which I had,at first, thought to be the falling snow.

He had not yet seen me, and what a marvelouschange came over me ! I forgot that I was tired;that I was weak; that I was hungry. The instinctsof the hunter reanimated me, and I thought only ofkilling the grand game before me. I threw downmy rifle, raising the hammer as the weapon cameinto position, and the click of the lock reached hisear. It was the first intimation he had of possibledanger, and he stopped and threw up his head tolook and listen. My thoughts came and went likeflashes of lightning. I remembered then the fam-ishing condition of myself and friends. Here wasmeat, and I must save it. There must be no nerv-ousnessno wild shooting now. This shot musttell. And there was not a tremor in all my system.Every nerve was as of steel for the instant. Thelittle gold bead on the muzzle of the rifle instantlyfound the vital spot behind the bear's shoulda,gleamed through the rear sight like a spark of fire,and before he had time to realize what the strange'apparition was that had so suddenly confrontedhim, the voice of the Winchester was echoingthrough the call on and an express -bullet hadcrashed through his vitals.

AND OTHER HUNTING- ADVENTURES. 177

The shock was so sudden and the effect on him sodeadly that he apparently thought nothing of fight,but only of seeking a place to die in peace.

He wheeled and shot into a neighboring thicketwith the speed of an arrow. I fired at him again ashe diSappeared. He crashed through the jungle outinto the open woods, turned to the right and wentacross a ridge as if Satan himself were after him._As the big gray mass shot through a clear spacebetween tWo trees I gave him another speeder, andthen he disappeared beyond a ridge.

The snow had melted rapidly and the ground wasbare in places, so that I had some trouble in trailingthe bear, but wherever he crossed a patch of snowhis trail was bespattered with blood-. I followedover the ridge and through scattering jack pines,about two hundred yards, and found him lyingdead near the trail. My first and third bullets hadgone in behind his shoulder only an inch apart.The first had passed clear through him, and theother had lodged against the skin on the oppositeside. Several ribs were broken on either side, andhis lungs and other portions of his interior wereground into sausage; yet so great was his vitalityand tenacity to life that he was able to make thisdistance at a speed that would have taxed the besthorse in the country, and if he had seen fit to attackme instead of running away he would probablyhave made sausage of me.

But what feasting and what revelry there was incamp that night. It was a young bear, fat asbutter, and rib roasts and cutlets were devoured inquantities that would have shocked the modesty of

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178 CIUTISINdS IN TI1E CASCADES

a tramp. Not until yell into the night did we ceaseto eat, and wrap ourselves in our blankets. We staidseveral days in the cation after that, and killed plentyof elk and other game.

The skin of the grizzly is one of the most valuabletrophies a sportsman can obtain on any field, and itsrarity, and the danger and excitement attending thetaking of it, the courage it bespeaks on the part ofthe hunter, render it a prize of which the winnermay justly feel proud for a lifetime.

The best localities in which to hunt the grizzlybearthat is, those most accessible and in which heis now most numerousare the Big Horn, Shoshone,Wind River, Bear Tooth, Belt, and Crazy Mount-ains, in Wyoming and :Montana, all of which may beeasily reached by way of the Northern Pacificroad.

The best time of year to hunt for this, as wellas all the other species of large game in the RockyMountains, is in the months of September, October,and November, though in the latter month thesportsman should wit venture high up into themountains where heavy snow-falls are liable tooccur. There is a great deal of bear hunting donein the summer months, but it is contrary to the lawsof nature, and should not be indulged in by linytrue sportsman, The skins are nearly worthlessthen, while in the autumn they are prime; the heatis oppressive, and the flies and mosquitoes are greatpests.

The best arm for this class of game is a repeatingrifle of large calibre, 45 or 50, carrying a large


charge of polA der and a solid bullet. The new Win-chester express, T5- with solid ball, is perhaps thebest in the market, all things considered.

There are severas methods of hunting the grizzly,the most common being to kill an elk, and then watchthe carcass. Shots may frequently be obtained inthis way early in the morning or late in the evening,and on bright moonlight nights it is best to watch allnight, for the immense size of the grizzly renders himan easy target at short range even by moonlight.Another method is to still-hunt him, the same as isdone with deer. This is perhaps the most sports-manlike of all, and if a coulee or creek bottom beselected where there are plenty of bellies, or anopen, hilly, rocky country, where the bears are inthe habit of hunting for worms, or any good feeding-ground where bear signs are plentiful, and due careand caution be exercised, there is as good a chanceof success as by any other method. Many huntersset guns with a cord running from the trigger to abait of fresh meat, and the muzzle of the gun point-ing at the meat; others set large steel traps or dead-falls. But such contrivances are never used by truesportsmen.

Game of any kind should always be pursued in afair, manly manner, and given due chance to pre-serve its life if it is skillful enough to 'do so. Ifcaptured, let it be by the superior skill, sagacity, orendurance of the sportsman, not by traps whichclose on it as it innocently and unsuspectingly seeksits food.

Grizzly bear hunting is unquestionably the grand-est sport that our continent affords. The grizzly


is the only really dangerous game we have, and thedecidedly hazardous character of the sport is whatgives it its greatest zest, and renders it the most fas-cinating of pursuits. Many sportsmen proclaim thesuperiority of their favorite -pastime over all otherkinds, be it quail, grouse, or duck shooting, fox-chasing, deer-stalking, or what not; and each has itscharm, more or less intense, according to its nature;but no man ever felt his heart swell with pride, hisnerves tingle with animation, his whole system growwith wild, uncontrollable enthusiasm, at the bag-ging of any bird or small animal, as does the manwho stands over the prostrate form of a monstergrizzly that he has slain. Let the devotee of theseother classes of sport try bear hunting, and when hehas bagged his first grizzly, then let him talk!

CHAPTER XXII.

ELK HLTNTING IN THE ROCKYMOUNTAINS.

F all the large game on the Americancontinent, the elk (Cervus canadensis)is the noblest, the grandest, the stateliest.would detract nothing from the noble

game qualities of the moose, caribou, deer,or mountain sheep. Each has its peculiar

points of excellence which enea r it to the heart ofthe sportsman, but the elk possesses more than anyof the others. In size he towers far above all,except the moose. in sagacity, caution, cunning,and wariness he is the peer, if not the superior, ofthem all. He is always on the alert, his keen scent,his piercing eye, his acute sense of hearing, combin-ing to render him a vigilant sentinel of his ownsafety.

His great size and powerful muscular constructiongive him almost unbounded endurance. Whenalarmed or pursued he will travel for twenty orthirty hours, at a rapid swinging trot, without stop-ping for food or rest. He is a proud, fearless ranger,and even when simply mikrating from one range ofmountains to another, will travel from seventy-fiveto a hundred miles without lying down. He is amarvelous mountaineer, and, considering his

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182 CRIIISINGS IN THE CASCADES

immense size and weight, often ascends to heightsthat seem incredible. He may often be found awayup to timber line, and will traverse narrow passesand defiles, climbing over walls of rock and throughfissures where it would seem impossible for so largean animal, with such massive antlers as he carries,to go. He chooses his route, however, with raregood judgment, and all mountaineers know that anelk trail is the best that can possibly be selectedover any given section of mountainous country.His faculty- of traversing dense jungles and wind-falls is equally astonishing. If given his own time,he will move quietly and easily through the worst ofthese, leaping o-ver logs higher than bis back asgracefully and almost as lightly as the deer; yet leta herd of elk be alarmed and start on a run throughone of these labyrinthine masses, and they will makea noise like a regiment of cavalry on a precipitouscharge.

I have stood on the margin of a quaking-aspthicket and heard a large band of elk comingtoward me that had been " jumped" and fired uponby my friend at the other side, and the frightfulnoise of their horns pounding the trees., their hoofsstriking each other and the numerous rocks, thecrashing of dead branches, with the snorting of theaffrighted beasts, might well have struck terror toThe heart of any-one unused to such sights andsounds, and have caused him to seek safety inflight. But by standing my ground I was enabledto get in a couple of shots at short range, and tobring down two of the finest animals in the herd.

The whistle of the elk is a sound which many


have tried to describe, yet I doubt if anyone whomay ha-ve read all the descriptions of it ever writtenwould recognize it on a first hearing. It is a moststrange, weird, peculiar sound, baffling all efforts ofthe most skillful word-painter. It is only uttered bythe male, and there is the same variety in the soundmade by different stags as in different human voices.Usually the cry begins and ends with a sort of grunt,somewhat like the bellow of a domestic cow cut short,but the interlude is a long-drawn, melodious, flute-like sound that rises and falls with a rhythmicalcadence, floating on the still evening air, by whichit is often wafted with singular distinctness to greatdistances. By other individuals, or even by thesame individual at -various times, either the first orlast of these abrupt sounds is omitted, and only theother, in connection with the long-drawn, silver-toned strain, is given.

The stag utters this call only in the love-makingseason, and for the purpose of ascertaining thewhereabouts of his dusky mate, who responds by ashort and utterly unmusical sound, similar to thatwith which the male begins or ends his call.

Once, when exploring in Idaho, I had an interest-ing and exciting experience with a band of elk.I had camped for the night on a high divide, betweentwo branches of the Clearwater river. The weatherhad been intensely dry and hot for several days, andthe tall rye grass that grew in the old burn where Ihad pitched my camp was dry as powder. Therewas a gentle breeze from the south. Fearing that aspark might be carried into the grass, I extinguishedmy camp-fire as soon as I liad cooked and eaten my

AND OTHER, IIUNTINO ADVENTURES. 185

supper. As darkness drew on. I went oat tu picket

-my horses and noticed that they were actingstrangely. They were looking down the mountainside with ears pointed forward, sniffing the air andmoving about uneasily.

I gave their picket ropes a turn around convenientjock pines, and then slipping cautions1). back to thetent, got lily ritle and returned. I could see nothingstrange and sat, down beside a log tu kiwait develop-ments. In a.few minutes I heard a dead limb break.Then there was a rustling in a bunch of tall, drygrass:. more snapping of twigs and. shaking (If hushes*I ascertained that there were several large animalsmoving toward me and feared it might be a familyof bears. I feared it, I may, because it was now sodark that I could not see to shoot at any distance. andknew that if bears carne near the horses the latterwould break their ropes and stampede. I thoughtof shouting awl trying to frighten them off, butdecided. to await developments. Presently 1 heardti snit piling of hoofs and a succession of dull, heavy,thumping noises, accompanied by reports of break-ing brush. which I knew at once were made byband of elk jumping over a high log.

The game was now not more titan fifty yardsaway and in open ground, yet I eon Id not see evena movement. for I was looking down toward a darkcation, many hundreds of feet deep. Slowly thegreat beasts workell toward me. The were mullingdown wind and I felt sure 'could not scent me, butthey could evidently see my horses, outlined againsttbe sky, and had doubtless heard them snortingand moving about.


The ponies grew more anxious but less frightenedthan at first, and seemed now desirous of makingthe acquaintance of their wild visitors.

Slowly the elk moved forward until within thirtyor forty feet of me, when I could begin to discernby the starlight their dark, shaggy forms. Thenthey stopped. I could hear them sniffing the airand could see them moving cautiously from placeto place, apparently suspicious of danger. Butthey were coining down wind, could get no indica-tion of my presence, and were anxious to interviewthe horses.

They moved slowly forward, and when theystopped this time, two old bulls and one cow,who were in the front rank, so to speak, stoodwithin ten feet of me. Their gmat horns toweredup like the branches of dead trees, and T could hearthem breathe.

Again they circled from side to side and I thoughtsurely they would vet, far enough to one quarter orthe other to wind me, but they did not. Severalother cows and two timid little calves crowded to thefront to look at their hornless cousins who now stoodclose behind me, and even in the starlight, I couldhave shot any 0110 of them between the eyes.

Al) saddle cayuse uttered a low gentle whinny,whereat the whole band wheeled and dashed away;but after making a few leaps their momentary scareseemed to subside, and they stopped, looked, snorteda few times and then began to edge up againthistime even more shyly than before..

It was intensely interesting to study the cautionand circumspection with which these creatures


planned and carried out their investigation all theway through.

The only mistake they made, and one at whichI was surprised, considering their usual cunningand sagacity, was that some of them at least did notcirele the horses and get to the leeward. But theywere in such a wild country, so far back in theremote fastnesses of the Rockies, that they hadprobably never encountered hunters or horsesbefore and had not acquired all the cunning of theirmore hunted and haunted brothers. After theirtemporary scare they returned, step by step, to theirinvestigation, and the largest bull in the bunchapproached the very log behind which I sat. Hewas just in the act of stepping over it when hecaught a whiff of my breath and, with a terrificsnort, vaulted backward and sidewise certainlythirty feet. At the same instant I rose up andshouted, and the whole band went tearing downthe mountain side making a racket like that of anavalanche.

As before stated, I could have had my choice outof the herd, but my only pack-horse was loaded sothat I could have carried but a small piece of meat,and was unwilling to waste so grand a creature forthe little I could save from him.

The antlers of the bull elk grow to a great size.He sheds them in February of each year. The newhorn begins to grow in April. During the summer itis soft and pulpy and is covered with a fine velvetygrowth of hair; it matures and hardens in Augustearly in September he rubs this velvet off and is thenready to try conclusions with any rival that comes in


his way. The rutting season over, he has no furtheruse for his antlers until the next autumn, and theydrop off. Thus the process is repealed, year afteryear, as regularly as the leaves grow and .fall fromthe trees. But it seems a strange provision of naturethat should load an animal with sixty to seventy-five pounds of horns, for half the year, whenweapons of one-quarter the size and weight wouldbe equally effective if all were armed alike.

I have in my collection the head of a bull elk,killed in the Shoshone Mountains, in NorthernWyoming, the antlers of which 'measure as follows:

Length of main beam, 4 feet 8 inches; length ofbrow tine, 1 foot 6 inches; length of bes tine, 1 foot81 inches; length of royal tine, 1 foot 7 inches;length of surroyal, 1 foot 8¡- inches: circumferencearound burr, 1 foot 3-1- inches; circumference' aroundbeam above .burr, 12 inches; circumference of browtine at base, 7,1 inches; spread of main beams at tips,4 feet 9 inches. They are one of the largest, and finestpairs of antlers of which I have any knowledge.The animal when killed would have weighed nearlya thousand pounds.

The elk is strictly gregarious, and in winter time,especially, the animals gather into large bands, anda few years ago herds of from five hundred to athousand were not uncommon: Now, however, theirnumbers have been so far reduced by the ravagesof "skin hunters" and others that one will rarelyfind more than twenty-five or thirty in a band.

In the fall of 1879, a party of three men weresight-seeing and hunting in the Yellowstone Na-tional Park, and having prolonged their stay until


late in October, were overtaken by a terrible snow-storm, which completely blockaded and obliteratedall the trails, and filled the gulches, eahons, andcoulees to such a depth that their horses could nettravel over them at all. They had lain in campthree days waiting for the storm to abate; but as itcontinued to grow in severity, and as the snowbecame deeper and deeper, their situation grew dailyand hourly more alarming. Their stock of pro-visions was low, they had no shelter sufficient towithstand the rigors of a winter at that high alti-tude, and it was fast becoming a question whetherthey should ever be able to escape beyond the snow-clad peaks and snow-filled carious with which theywere hemmed in. Their only hope of escape was byabandoning their horses, and constructing snow-shoes which might keep them above the snow; butin this case they could not carry bedding and foodenough to last them throughout the several daysthat the journey would occupy to the nearest ranch,and the chances of killing game en route after thesevere weather had set in were extremely precarious.They had already set about making snow-shoesfrom the skin of an elk which they had saved. Onepair had been completed, and the storm havingabated, one or the party set out to look over thesurrounding country for the most feasible route bywhich to get out, and also to try if possible to findgame of some kind. He had gone about a mile,toward the northeast when he came upon the freshtrail of a large band of elk that were moving towardthe east. He followed, and in a short time came upwith them. They were traveling in single file, led


by a powerful old bull, who wallowed through snowin which only his head and neck were visible, withall the patience and perseverance of a faithful oldox. The others followed himthe s:ronger ones infront and the Weaker ones bringing up the rear.There were thirty-seven in the band, and by thetime they had all walked in the same line they leftit an open, well-beaten trail. The hunter approachedwithin a few yards of them. They were greatlyalarmed when they saw him, and made a few boundsin various directions ; but seeing their struggleswere in vain, they meekly submitted to what seemedtheir impending fate, and fell back in rear of theirfile-leader. This would have been the golden oppor-tunity of a skin hunter, who could and would haveshot them all down in their tracks from a singlestand. But such was not the mission of our friend.He saw in this noble, struggling band a means ofdeliverance from what had threatened to be a wintrygrave for him and his companions. He did not firea shot, and did not in any way create unnecessaryalarm amongst the elk, but hurried back to campand reported to his friends what he had seen.

In a moment the camp was a scene of activity. andexcitement. Tent, bedding, provisions, everythingthat was absolutely necessary to their journey, werehurriedly packed upon their pack animals; saddleswere placed, rifles were slung to the saddles, andleaving all surplus baggage, such as trophies oftheir hunt, mineral specimens and curios of variouskinds, for future comers, they started for the elktrail. They had a slow, tedious, and laborious task,breaking a way through the deep snow to reach it,


but by walking and leading their saddle animasahead, the pack animals were able to follow slowly.Finally they reached the trail of the elk herd, andfollowing this, after nine days of tedious and painfultraveling, the party arrived at a ranch on theStinking Water river, which was kept by a" squaw man " and his wife, where they wereenabled to lodge and recruit themselves and theirstock, and whence they finally reached their homesin safety. The band of elk pa,ssed on down theriver, and our tourists never saw them again; butthey have doubtless long ere this all fallen a prey tothe ruthless war that is constantly being wagedagainst them by hunters white and red.

It is sad to think that such a noble creature as theAmerican elk is doomed to early and absoluteextinction, but such is nevertheless the fact. Yearby year his mountain habitat is being surroundedand encroached upon by the advancing line of set-tlements, as the fisherman encircles the strugglingmass of fishes in the clear pond with his long andclosely-meshed net The lines are drawn closer andcloser each year. These lines are the ranches ofcattle and sheep raisers, the cabins and towns ofminers, the stations and residences of employ& ofthe railroads. All these places are made the sheltersand temporary abiding places of Eastern and for-eign sportsmen who go out to the mountains tohunt. Worse than this, they are made the perma-nent abiding places, and constitute the active andconvenient markets of the nefarious and unconscion-able skin hunter and meat hunter. Here he canfind a ready market for the meats and skins he

WORK OF THE EXTERMINATORS.


brings in,,and an opportunity to spend the proceedsof such outrageous traffic in ranch whisky and rev-elry. The ranchmen themselves hunt and Iay intheir stock of meat for the year when the gamecomes down into the valleys. The Indians, whenthey have eaten up their Government rations, lie inwait for the elk in the same manner. So that whenthe first great snows of the autumn or -winter fall inthe high ranges, when the elk band together andseek refuge in the valleys, as did the herd that ourfortunate tourists followed out, they find a mixedand hungry horde waiting for them at the Mouth Pfevery cafion. Before they have reached the valle'STwhere the snow-fall is light enough to allow themto live through the winter their skins are drying inthe neighboring " shacks."

This unequal, one-sided warfare, this ruthlessslaughter of inoffensi-ve creatures, can not lastalways. Indeed, it can last but little longer. Inranges where only a fe-w years ago herds of four orfive hundred elk could be found, the hunter ofto-day considers himself in rare luck when he findsa band of ten or twelve and even small bands ofany number are so rare that a good hunter mayoften hunt a week in the best elk country to befound anywhere without getting a single shot. AHthe Territories ha-ve good, wholescíme game-lawswhich forbid the killing of garne animals. exceptduring two or three months in the fall; but theselaws are not enforced. They are a dead setter onthe statute-books, and the illegal and illegitimateslaughter goes on unchecked.

13

CHAPTER XXIII.

ANTELOPE HUNTING IN MONTANA.

F all the numerous species of large game to befound in the far West, there is none whose

pursuit furnishes grander sport to the expertrifleman than the antelope (Antilocapraamericana). His habitat being the high,

,2 open plains, he may be hunted on horse-

- back, and with a much greater degree ofcomfort than may the deer, elk, bear, and

other species which inhabit the wooded ormountainous districts. His keen eyesight,

his fine sense of smell, his intense fear of hisnatural enemy, man, however, render him the mostdifficult of all game animals to approach, andhe must indeed be a skillful hunter who can getwithin easy rifle range of the antelope, unless hehappens to have the circumstances of wind and lie ofground peculiarly in his favor. When the game isfirst sighted, even though it be one, two, or threemiles away, you must either dismount and picketyour horse, or find cover in some coulee or draw,where you can ride entirely out of sight cf the quarry.But even under such favorable circumstances it isnot well to attempt to ride very near them. Theirsense of hearing is also very acute, and should yourhorse's hoof or shoe strike a loose rock, or should he

(194)


snort or neigh, the game is likely to catch the soundwhile you are yet entirely out of sight and far away,and when you finally creep cautiously to the top ofthe, ridge from which you expect a favorable shot,you may find the game placidly looking for youfrom the top of another ridge a mile or two fartheraway.

But we will hope that you are to have better luckthan this. To start with, we will presume that youare an expert rifleman; that you are in the habit ofmaking good scores at the butts; that at 800, 900,and 1,000 yards you frequently score 200 to 210 outof a possible 225 points. We will also suppose thatyou are a hunter of some experience; that you ha-veat least killed a good many deer in the States, butthat this is your first trip to the plains. You havelearned to estimate distances, however, even in thisrare atmosphere, and possess good judgment as towindage. You have brought your Creedmoor riflealong, divested, of course, of its Venier sight, wind-guage, and spirit-level, and in their places you havefitted a Beach combination front sight and Lyma.nrear sight. Besides these you have the ordinaryopen step sight attached to the barrel just in front ofthe action. This is not the best arm for antelope hunt-ing; a Winchester express with the same sightswould be much better; but this will answer very well.

We camped last night on the bank of a clear,rapid stream that gurgles down from the mountain,and this morning are up long before daylight;have eaten our breakfasts, saddled our horses,and just as the gray of dawn begins to showover the low, flat prairie to the east of us, we


mount, and are ready for the start. The wind is fromthe northeast. That suits us very well, for in thatdirection, about a mile away, there are some lowfoot-hills that skirt the valley in which we arecamped. In or just beyond these we are very likelyto find antelope, and they will probably be comingtoward the creek this morning for water.

We put spurs to our horses and gallop away. Abrisk and exhilarating ride of ten minutes brings usto the foot-hills, and then we rein up and rideslowly and cautiously to near the top of the first one.Here we dismount, and, picketing our ponies, wecrawl slowly and carefully to the apex. By thistime it is almost fully daylight. We remove ourhats, and peer cautiously through the short, scatter-ing grass on the brow of the hill.

Do you see anything?No; nothing but prairie and grass.No? Hold! What are those small, gray objects

away off yonder to the left? I think I saw one of.them move. And now, as the light grows stronger,I can se white patches on them. Yes, they areantelope. They are busily feeding, and we mayraise our heads slightly and get a more favorableview. One, two, threethere are five of themtwobucks, a doe, and two kids. And you will observethat they are nearly in the centre of a broad stretchof table -land.

" But," you say, " may we not wait here a littlewhile until they come nearer to us?"

Hardly. You see they are intent on getting theirbreakfast. There is a heavy frost on the grass,which moistens it sufficiently for present purposes,

AND ()TITER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 197

and it may be an hour or more before they will startfor water. It won't pay us to wait so long, for weshall most likely find others within that time thatwe can get within range of without waiting for them.So you may as well try them from here.

Now your experience at the butts may serve youffood turn. After takino, a creful look over theac c

ground, yo u estimate the distance at 850 yards, andsetting up your Beach front and Lyman rear sights,you make the necessary elevation. There is a briskwind blowing from the right, and you think it nec-essary to hold off about three feet. We are nowboth lying prone upon the ground. You face thegame, and support your rifle at your shoulder byresting your elbows on the ground. The sun is nowshining brightly, and you take careful aim at thatold buck that stands out there at the left. At thereport of your rifle a cloud of dust rises from a pointabout a hundred yards this side of him, and a littleto the left, showing that you have underestimatedboth the distance and the force of the windthingsthat even an old hunter is liable to do occasionally.

We both lie close, and the anima's have not yetseen us. They make a few jumps, and stop all in atainch. The cross-wind and long distance preventthem from knowing to a certainty where the reportcomes from, and they don't like to run just yet, testthey may run toward the danger instead of awayfrom it. You make another half-point of elevation,hold a little farther away to the right, and try themagain. This time the dirt rises about twenty feetbeyond them, and they jump in every direction.That was certainly a close call, and the bullet evi-


dently whistled uncomfortably close to severas ofthem. They are now thoroughly frightened. Youinsert another cartridge, hurriedly draw a bead onthe largest buck again, and fire. You break dirtjust beyond him, and we can't tell for the life of ushow or on which side of him your bullet passed. Itis astonishing how much vacant space there is roundan antelope, anyway. This time they go, sure.They have located the puff of smoke, and are gonewith the speed of the wind away to the west. Butdon't be discouraged, my friend. You did someclever shooting, some very clever shooting, and alittle practice of that kind will enable you to scorebefore night.

We go back to our horses, mount, and gallopaway again across the table-land. A ride of anothermile brings us to the northern margin of this plateau,and to a more broken country. Here we dismount andpicket our horses again. We ascend a high butte,and from the top of it we can see three more antelopeabout a mile to the north of us; but this time theyare in a hilly, broken country, and the wind is com-ing directly from them to us. We shall be able toget a shot at them at short range. So we cautiouslyback down ont of sight, and then begins the tediousprocess of stalking them. We walk briskly alongaround the foot of a hill for a quarter of a mile, towhere it makes a turn that would carry us too farout of our course. We must cross this hill, andafter looking carefully at the shape and location ofit, we at last find .a low point in it where by lyingflat down we can crawl over it without revealing our-selves to the game. It is a most tedious and painful


piece of work, for the ground is alMost covered withcactus and sharp flinty rocks, and our hands andknees are terribly lacerated. But every rose has itsthorn, and nearly every kind of sport has somethingunpleasant connected with it occasionally; and our

J 2:

Vt. 6 ,

A PO Ea RA iT.

reward, if we get it, will be worth the pain it costsus. With such reflections and comments, and withfrequent longing looks at the game, we kill time tillat last the critical part of our work is done, and we

on

"-",1,

24_


can arise and descend in a comfortable but cautiouswalk into another draw.

This we follow for about two hundred yards, untilwe think we are as near our quarry as we canget. We turn to the right, cautiously ascend thehill, remove our hats, and peer over, and there, sureenough, are our antelope quietly grazing, utterlyoblivious to the danger that threatens them. Theyhave not seen, heard, or scented us, so we haveample time to plan an attack. You take the stand-ing shot at the buck, and together we will try andtake care of the two does afterward. At this shortdistance you don't care for the peep and globe sights,and wisely decide to use the plain open ones. Thistime you simply kneel, and then edge up until youcan get a good clear aim over the apex of the ridgein this position. The buck stands broadside toyou, and at the crack of your rifle sin ings intothe air, and falls all in a heap, pierced through theheart.

And now for the two does. They are flying overthe level stretch of prairie with the speed of an arrow,and are almost out of sure range now. You turnloose on that one on the right, and. I will look afterthe one on the left. Our rifles crack together, andlittle clouds of dust rising just beyond tell us that,though we have both missed, we have made closecalls. I put in about three shots to your one, owingto my rifle being a repeater, while you must loadyours at each shot. At my fourth shot my left-fielder doubles up and goes down with a brokenneck; and although you have fairly "set the groundafire" to use a Western phrase around your


right-fielder, you have not liad the good fortuneto stop her, and she is now out of sight behind alow ridge.

But you have the better animal of the two, andhave had sport enough for the first morning. Wewill take the entrails out of these two, lash themacross our horses behind our saddles, go to camp,and rest through the heat of the day; for this Sep-tember sun beams down with great power in mid-day, even though the nights are cool and:frosty.

And now, as we have quite a long ride to camp,and as we are to pass over a rather nionotonousprairie country en route, I will give you a point ortwo on flagging antelope, as we ride along, that maybe useful to you at some time. Fine sport mayfrequently be enjoyed in this way. If you can finda band that have not been hunted much, and are notfamiliar with the wiles of the white man, you will havelittle trouble in decoying them within rifle rangeby displaying to them almost any brightly-coloredobject. They have as much curiosity as a -woman,and will run into all kinds of danger to investigateany strange object they may discover. They havebe,n known to follow an emigrant or freight wagon,with a white cover, several miles, and the Indian oftenbrings them within reach of his arrow or bulletby standing in plain view wrapped in his red blanket.A piece of bright tin or a mirror answers the samepurpose on a clear day. Ahnost any conspicibus orstrange-looking object will attract them; but themost convenient as well as the most reliable at alltimes is a little bright-red flag.

On one occasion I was hunting in the Snowy Mount-


ains, in Northern Montana, with S. K. Fishel, thegovernment scout, and Richard Thomas, the packer,from Fort Maginnis. We had not been successful infinding game there, and on our way back to the postcamped two days on the head of Flat Willow creek,near the foot of the mountains, to hunt antelopes.As night approached severas small bands of themcame toward the creek, but none came within rangeof our camp during daylight, and we did not goafter them that night, but were up and at thembetimes the next morning.

I preferred to hunt alone, as I always do whenafter big game, and went out across a level flat tosome low hills north of camp. When I ascendedthe first of these I saw a handsome buck antelopeon the prairie half a mile away. I made a longdetour to get to leeward of him, and mea,ntime hadgreat difficulty in keeping him from seeing me. Butby careful maneuvering I finally got into a draw..below him, and found the wind blowing directlyfrom him to me. In his neighborhood were some

- large, ragged volcanic rocks, and getting in linewith one of these I started to stalk him. He wasfeeding, and as I moved cautiously forward I couldfrequently see his nose or rump show up at one sideor the other of the rock. I would accordingly glideto right or left, as necessary, and move on. Finally,I succeeded in reaching the rock, crawled carefullyup to where I could see over it, and there, sureenough, stood the handsome old fellow not morethan fifty yards away, still complacently nippingthe bunch-grass.- "Ah, my fine laddie," I said to myself, " you'll


never know what hurt you;" and resting the muzzleof the rifle on the rock, I took a fine, steady aim forhis heart and turned the bullet loose. There was aterrific roar; the lead tore up a cloud of dust andwent screaming away over the hills, while, to myutter astonishment, the antelope went sailing acrossthe prairie with the speed of a greyhound. I sprangto my feet, pumped lead after him at a, lively rate,and, though I tore the ground up all around him,never touched a hair. And what annoyed me mostwas that, owing to some peculiar condition of theatmosphere, the smoke of each shot hung in front ofme long enough to prevent me from seeing justwhere my bullets struck, and, for the life of me, Icould not tell whether I was shooting over or underthe game!

I went back- over the hill to my horse, with myheart full of disappointment and my magazine onlyhalf full of cartridges. I loaded up, however,mounted, and, as I rode away in search of moregame, I could occasionally hear the almost whis-pered " puff, puff " of Fishel's and Thomas's riflesaway to the south and west, which brought me thecheering assurance that they were also having fun,

- and also assured me that we should not be withoutmeat for supper and breakfast.

I soon sighted a band of about thirty antelopes,and riding into a coulee dismounted, picketed myhorse, and began another crawl. In due time Ireached the desired "stand," within about eightyyards of them, and, piCking out the finest buck inthe bunch, again took a careful, deliberate aim andfired, scoring another clear miss. The band,

204 CRUISIN(iS IN THE CASCADES

intsead of running away, turned and ran directlytoward me, and, circling slightly, passed withinthirty yards of me, drawn out in single file. It wasa golden opportunity and I felt sure I should killhalf a dozen of them at least; but, alas! for fleetinghopes. I knew not the frailty of the support onwhich I built my expectations. I fanned them as longas there was a cartridge in my magazine, and hadto endure the intense chagrin of seeing the last oneof them go over a ridge a mile away safe andsound.

I was dumb. If there had been anyone there totalk to, I don't think I could have found a word inthe language to express my feelings. As before, thesmoke prevented me from seeing just where my bul-lets struck the ground, but I felt sure they must bestriking very close to the game. I sat down, pon-dered, and examined my rifle. I could see nothingwrong with it, and felt sure it must be perfect, forwithin the past week I had killed a deer with it at170 yards and had shaved the heads off a dozengrouse at short range. I was, theretore, forced tothe conclusion that I had merely failed to exerciseproper care in holding. I returned to my horse,mounted, and once more set out in search of game,determined to kill the next animal I shot at orleave the country.

I rode away to the west about two miles, andfrom the top of a high hill saw another band of fortyor fifty antelopes on a table-land. I rode aroundtill I got within about two hundred yards of them,when I left my horse under cover of a hill and againbegan to sneak on the unsuspecting little creatures_

AND OTHER HUNTING AVENTURES. 205

They were near the edge of the table, and from justbeyond them the formation fell abruptly away intothe valley some fifty feet. I crawled up this bluffuntil within about forty yards of the nearest ante-lope, and then, lying flat upon the ground, I placedmy rifle in position for firing, and, inch by inch,edged up over the apex of the bluff until withinfair view of th.e game. Again selecting the bestbuckfor I wanted a good head for mountingIdrew down on his brown side until I felt sttre thatif there had been a silver dollar hung on it couldhave driven it through him. Confidently exPlectingto see him drop in his tracks, I touched the trigger.But, alas ! I was doomed to still further dtsgrace.When the smoke lifted, my coveted prize was speed-ing away with the rest of the herd.

I simply stood, with my lower jaw hanging down,and looked after them till they were out of sight.Then I went and got my horse and went to camp.Sam and Dick were there with the saddles of threeantelopes. When I told them what I liad beendoing, they tried to console me, but I wouldn't beconsoled. After dinner, Sam picked up my rifleand looked it over carefully.

" Why, look here, you blooming idiot," said he.No wonder you couldn't kill at short range. The

wedge Las slipped up under your rear sight twonotches. She's elevated for 350 yards, an(i at thatrate would shoot about a foot high at a hundredyards." I looked and found it even so. Then Ioffered him and Dick a dollar each if they wouldkick me, but they wouldn't.

Sam said goòd-naturedly: "Come, go with me

2O6 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES

and get the head of the buck I killed. It's a veryhandsome one, and only two miles from camp."

I said I didn't want any heads for my own useunless I could kill their owners myself, but wouldtake this one home for a friend, so we saddled ourhorses and started.

As we reached the top of a hill about a mile fromcamp a large buck that was grazing ahead of usjumped and ran away to what he seemed to considera safe distance, and stopped to look at us. Samgenerously offered me the shot, and springing outof my saddle I threw down my rifle, took carefulaim and fired. At the crack the buck turned justhalf way round, but WaS unable to make a singlejump and sank dead in his tracks.

Sam is ordinarily a quiet man, but he fairlyshouted at the result of my shot. I paced the dis-tance carefully to where the carcass lay, and it wasexactly 200 step& The buck was standing broadsideto me and I had shot him through the heart. Ofcourse, it was a scratch. I could not do it again per-haps in twenty shots, and yet when I considered thatI shot for one single animal and got him I could nothelp feeling a little proud of it. As we approachedthe animal, not knowing just where I had hit him,I held my rifle in readiness, but Sam said:

"Oh, you needn't be afraid of his getting up.One of those Winchester express bullets is all anantelope needs, no matter what part of the body youhit him in."

This old fellow had a fine head, and we took itoff, and now as I write it gazes down upon me withthose large, lustrous black eyes, from its place on


the wall, as proudly and curiously as it did there onthe prairie when I looked at it through the sights ofmy Winchester. His portrait adorns page 199 ofthis book, and though the artist has treated it with amaster's hand, it does not possess the lordly beam-ing, the fascinating grace, the timid beauty thatdistinguished the living animal.

It was so late when we got this one dressed thatwe decided to return to camp at once.

The curiosity which is so proininent a feature in theantelope's nature costs many a one of them his life,and is taken advantage of by the hunter in variousways. When we reached camp that afternoon Dicktold us how he had taken advantage of it. He liadseen a small band on a leve stretch of prairie wherethere was no possible -way of getting within rangeof them, and having heard that if a man would liedown on his back, elevate his feet as high as pos-sible, and swing them back and forth through theair, that it would attract antelopes, decided to tryit. But the antelopes of this section had evidentlynever seen soap boxes or bales of hay floatingthrough the air, and had no desire to cultivate acloser acquaintance with such frightful lookingobjects as he exhibited to their astonished gaze.And Dick said that when he turned to see if theyhad yet come Within shooting distance they wereabout a mile away, and judging from the cloud ofdust they were leaving behind them seemed to berunning a race to see which could get out of thecountry first.

The next morning Sam and I went together andDick alone in another direction. During the fore.-

2OS CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES

noon I shot a buck through both fore legs, cuttingone off clean and paralyzing the other. Sam saidnot to shoot him again and he would catch him, andputting spurs to his horse was soon galloping along-side of the quarry. He caught him by one horn andheld him until I carne up. Tne little fellow prancedwildly aboirt, and bleated pitifully, but a stroke ofthe hunting knife across his throat soon relieved hissuffering.

We then got the head from the buck Sam hadkilled the day before, and returned to camp about11 o'clock a. m.

In the afternoon we rode out together again, andhad not gone far when we saw five of the bright littleanimals We were hunting, on a hill-side. They weretoo far away for anything like a sure shot, but werein such a position that we could get no nearer tothem. They stood looking at lis, and Sam told meto try them. I had little hope of making a hit, butdismounting took a shot off hand, holding for theshoulder of a good sized buck. When the guncracked there was a circus. I had missed my aimso far as to cut both his hind legs off just below theknee. The buck commenced bucking. First hestood on his fore feet, got his hind legs up in the airand shook the stumps. Then he tried to stand onthem and paw the air with his fore feet, but lost hisbalance and fell over backward. He got up, jumpedfirst to one side, then to the other, then forward.Meantime Sam rode toward him, and he tried to run.In this his motions were more like those of a rock-ing horse than of a living animal. The race was ashort one. Sam soon rode up to him, caught him


by a horn and held him till I came up and cut thelittle fellow's throat. Then Sam said that was avery long shot, and he would like to know ju.st whatthe distance was. He went back to where I stoodwhen I shot, stepped the distance to where theantelope stood, and found it to be 362 paces.

We rode on a mile further and saw a young ante-lope lying down in some tall rye-grass. We could.just see his horns and ears, and though he appearedto be looking at us he seemed to think hinaselfsecurely hidden, for he made no movement towardgetting up. I told Sam to shoot this time, but hesaid, "No, you shoot. I live in this country andcan get all the shooting I want any time. You havecome a long way out here to have some fun. Turnloose on him." And slipping off my horse I kneltdown to get a knee rest, but found that from thatpOsition I could not see the game at all, and wascompelled to shoot off hand again. Raising up Idrew a bead on one of the horns, and then loweringthe muzzle to where I thought the body should be,pressed the trigger. There was a lively commotionin the grass, but the buck never got out of his bed.The ball went in at one shoulder and out at theopposite hip. On stepping the distance we found itto be only 125 yards.

And now, having in a measure wiped out the dis-.grace of the previous day's work and secured all themeat, skins, and heads that our pack-mules couldcarry, we returned to camp and the next day wentback to Fort Maginnis.

These bright little creatures, though naturallytimid, sometimes show great courage in defense of

14


their young. I once saw a coyote sneak from behinda hill toward a herd of antelope. Instantly there wasa grand rush of all the adult members of the band,male and female, toward the intruder, and whenthey had gotten in front of the kids they stopped,with bristles erect, ears thrown forward, and headslowered, presenting a most warlike and belligerentappearance. The coyote, when he saw himself con-fronted with this solid phalanx, suddenly stopped,eyed his opponents for a few moments, and then,apparently overawed at the superiority of numbersand warlike attitude of his intended prey, slunkreluctantly away in search of some weaker. victim.When he was well out of sight, the older membersof the band turned to their young, caressed them,and resumed their grazing.

The speed of the antelope is probably not excelledby that of any other animal in this country, wild_or domestic, except the greyhound, and, in fact, itis only the finest and fleetest of these that can pulldown an antelope in a fair race.

In the little village of Garfield, Kansas, therelived a man some years ago--the proprietor of ahotelwho had two pet antelopes. The villagedogs had several times chased them, but had alwaysbeen distanced. One day a Mexican came to townwho had with him two large, handsome greyhounds.Immediately on riding up to the hotel he saw theantelopes in the yard, and told the proprietor grufflythat he had better. put " them critters " in the corral,or his dogs would kill them. The proprietor saidhe guessed the " critters" were able to take careof themselves, especially if the dogs did not spring

AND OTHER IILTNTING ADVE1N'TURES. 211

upon them unawares. This aroused the Mexican'sire, and he promptly offered to wager a goodly sumthat his dogs would pull down one or both ofthe antelopes within a mile. The challenge wasaccepted, the stakes deposited, the antelopes turnedinto the street, and the " greaser" told his dogsto take 'em."

The dogs sprang at the antelopes, but the latterhad by this time reached a vacant lot across thestreet. They started off down the river. For adistance of four miles the river bottom was an openprairie, and as level as a floor. As the quartettesped over this grand natural race-course, the wholepopulace of the town turned out en masse to see therace. Men and boys shouted, and ladies wavedtheir handkerchiefs. Betting was rife, the nativesoffering two to one on the antelopes, the Mexicanand the few other strangers in town being eagertakers. II was nip and tuck, neither animals gain-ing nor losing perceptibly, and when at last the fourwent round a bend in the river four miles away, andwere hidden by a bluff, the game was, as nearly ascould be seen by the aid of good field-glasses, justabout the same distance ahead of the dogs as whenthey left town.

Some hours later the dogs returned, so tired theycould scarcely walk. The Mexican eagerly lookedfor hair on their teeth, and although he could findnone, was confident that his dogs had killed theantelopes. A mounted expedition to search for thecarcasses and settle the question was agreed upon,but as it was too near night to start when the dogsreturned, it was arranged to go in the morning. But


when the parties got up the next morning they foundthe antelopes quietly grazing in the hotel 3rard.

The Mexican left town in disgust followed by hislame, sore-footed dogs, and muttering that he" never seed no varmints run like them things did."

The antelope, one of the brightest and most grace-ful and beautiful of all our Western game animals,is fast disappearing from our broad plains, owing tothe ceaseless slaughter of it that is carried on by" skin hunters," Indians, " foreign noblemen," andothers who come to this country year after year andspend the entire summer in hunting. Hundredsof them are killed every summer by this latter class,and left to rot where they fall, not a pound of meat,a skin, or even a head being taken from them. Ihave seen with my OW11 eyes this butchery carriedon for years past, and know whereof I speak.

Nearly all the Territories have stringent lawsintended to prohibit this class of slaughter, but inthese sparsely settled countries the provisions forenforcing them are so meagre that these men violatethem day after day and year after year with impu-nity. This is one of the instances in which prohi-bition does not prohibit. And what I have said ofthe antelope is true of all the large game of thegreat West. The elk, deer, mountain sheep, etc.,are being slaughtered by the hundreds everyyeartenfold faster than the natural increase. Andthe time is near, very near, when all these noblespecies will be extinct. The sportsman or natural-ist who desires to preserve a skin or head of anyof them must procure it very soon or he will notbe able to get it at all.

CHAPTER XXIV.

BUFFALO HUNTING ON THE TEXAS PLAINS.'1k1

HE "Texas boom" was at itsheight in 1876, and there wasa grand rush of emigrants of

all nationalities and conditionsof people to the then New Eldo-

rado. Thousands of men wentdown there to make money. Many

of them had not the remotest ideahow this was to be done, but from

the glowing stories afloat regardingthe resources of that wonderful coun-

!, try, they felt sure it could be done insome way. The little town. of Fort Worth was thenon the frontierthat is, it was one of the mostwesterly towns having railroad communication, andwas therefore one of the important outfitting pointsfor parties going into the wilds. A great manywere going further west, on all kinds of expeditions,some in search of minerals, some in search of choicelands, some to hunt the large game which was thenabundant.

The village consisted of a public square, aroundand fronting on which were a row of cheap, one-story, log mid frame buildings, most of which wereoccupied as saloons and gambling houses. But

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there were a few respectable general stores, half a,doen so-called hotels, shops, etc. The town wasfull to overflowing with gamblers, rustlers, hunters,cowboys, Mexican rancheros, northern sight-seers,adventurers, commercial travelers, etc.

All day and all night could be heard the call ofthe croupier at the gambling-table as he announcedthe numbers and combinations that the wheel orcards produced in the course of the manipulationsto which his deft fingers subjected them.

Hot words often came from fortunate and unfortu-nate gamesters, and the short, sharp report of the six-shooter, the shouts of combatants, the groans of

wounded or dying men, the clatter of heavy boots,or spurs on the feet of stampeded spectators weresounds that, nearly every night, greeted the ears,of the populace.

Mob law reigned supreme, and there was littleeffort on the part of the village authorities to punish'offenders. Sometimes Judge Lynch's court wasconvened on short notice, and someone who had,committed an unusually flagrant violation of the" law of honor" and had killed a man without dueprovocation, was hurriedly tried and strung up tothe nearest tree.

One evening in the month of November, the excite-ment was varied by the arrival of a " bull-trainof ten wagons loaded with buffalo skins. Theydrove to the -warehouse of the largest trader in the

*What is known on the frontier as a " bull-train" is a number ofponderous 'wagons, di awn by from six to ten yoke of oxen each,used for hauling heavy freight across the plains.


place to unload, and were quickly surrounded by a,crowd of eager inquirers who sought for news fromthe front.

Some inquired as to the nature of the country,some as to the progress of settlements, some as to,friends who were at the front, and many as to thebuffalo herd from which the fi-ve thousand skinsbrought in by this train had been taken.

" The main herd," said the wagon boss, " is twohundred miles west on the headwaters of the Brazos.river."

"How large a herd is it?""Nobody knows that, for none of 'em has ;took

time to ride to the west end of it.""Are there many hunters there?" inquired a.

young St. Louis lawyer." Wall, you'd reckon," said the boss. ` Tha's

'bout a hundred and fifty white hunters, and more'na thousand red-skins."

" -When do you start back?"" To-morrow mornin', if I can keep my bull

punchers from gettin' full of pizen."The crowd gradually scattered, while a little knot

of the more respectable element repaired to the hotelto discuss the question of organiiing a huntingparty to go to the buffalo range. In an hour theyagreed to go, the time for the start being fixed forthe morning of the second day following.

And then the busy notes of preparation wereheard throughout the town. But few of the menwho decided to go were prepared for such a trip,and it was necessary for most of them to buy or hirecomplete outfits. Horses were the first and most


important requisite. The corral (the frontier liverystable) was first visited, and spirited bidding wasindulged in for the choicest animals. The stockhere was soon exhausted, and the demand was notyet supplied. Then all the horses and ponies stand-ing tied to the railing around the public squarewere inspected, and any that were for salé weretested. Word having been circulated that a huntingparty was outfitting, a large number of ponies werebrought in from neighboring camps and ranches.The party was soon creditably mounted, though thenumber had increased to double that originallyplanned.

Next, teams must be employed. A number ofthese were also found, and five were engaged, theirowners agreeing to work for seven dollars a day" and found."

Guns and ammunition were also in demand, andenough were offered to arm a regiment. A numberof hunters had recently come in from the front andwere selling off their outfits. Every store and hotelhad from one to half a dozen guns in pawn, and onedealer had a number of new ones. Anything in theshape of a rifle could be had. Old Kentucky muzzle-loaders, " five feet long in the barrel ;" condemnedarmy carbines of Spencer, Sharps, and other pat-terns; Springfield muskets; Henry and Winchesterrifles; and a few of the old reliable Sharps " buffaloguns" of 45 and 50 calibre, and using 100 to 120grains of powder. These latter were taken at goodfigures by the more knowing ones, and the best ofthe others selected by the less intelligent buyersuntil all were fairly well armed.


Then a guide was needed, and a Chicago news-paper correspondent, who was to be a member ofthe expedition, was deputed to employ one. Asusual in frontier towns, there were plenty of them,each 6ne of whom, in his own estimation, was the bestin the whole country. Each claimed to know everyfoot of the ground in question, to be able to speakthe language of every Indian tribe on the frontier,to be a crack shot and intrepid horseman, afraid ofnothing, and ready for any undertaking, no matterhow hazardous.

Inquiry among the more reliable citizens of thetown as to who was best suited for the uses of thepresent enterprise resulted in the choice of a rather,quiet and attractive-looking young man bearing theeuphonious pseudonym of "Red River Frank." Hewas clad in the conventional buckskin suit, and hislong glossy black hair hung in heavy curls down tohis shoulders. He was six feet two inches in height,straight as an arrow, and liad a deep, clear gray eye;rode a good sized spirited mustang, and sat in hissaddle like a life-trained trooper.

At the time appointed for the departure, theparty, which liad now swelled to thirty-two men alltold, assembled in the public square. The wagonswere loaded with the tents, bedding, food, and othernecessary provisions for the trip, which, it wasarranged, should occupy about six weeks. At teno'clock the party rode out of town on the roadleading west, taking with them the hearty goodwishes of the assembled throng. They crossed anarrow belt of timber and emerged upon a stretch ofgently undulating prairie, which was densely coy-


ered with a luxuriant growth of gramma grass, andover which they traveled at a lively gait until aftersundown before again reaching timber and water.Then they camped on a small creek where food,fuel, and good water IN ere abundant. The tentswere pitched, supper prepared and eaten, and thenthe party assembled around a large camp fire.

The lawyer arose, and requesting the attention ofthe men, said that, as they were going on a longjourney into a wild country, which was infestedwith hostile Indians and lawless white men, whereit mii.);ht be necessary for this party to defend them-selves and .their property by force of arms, it wasthought best to effect a permanent and bindingorganization, which would insure unity of actionthroughout the trip, and especially in the event ofany such trouble as he had intimated might arise.He therefore nominated as chief executive officerof the expedition, Captain W. H. Enders, who, hesaid, liad done good and faithful service during thelate war; who, since the war, had traveled exten-sively in the West, and who was now engaged incattle.raising in Kansas. Several men seconded thenomination, and Captain Enders was unanimouslychosen by acclamation.

He arose and thanked his friends, modestly andgracefully, for this mark of their esteem and confi-dence, stating that he liad no desire to exercise anyarbitrary or unnecessary authority over them, butshould only order them in so far as safety andsuccess in their undertaking seemed necessary. Heasked that all who were willing to stand by him and,obey his orders to this extent should so pledge

220 CIHTISINGS IN THE CASCAAES

themselves by rising to their feet. The entire partyarose. Then their leader thanked them again, andtheir informal deliberation ended.

The captain detailed four men to act as a guardover the camp and stock during the night, eachwatching two hours and then calling up the onewho was to relieve him, and this precaution wasfollowed up throughout the expedition.

The men were tired from their long ride, andsought the comfort of their blankets at an earlyhour. As they had a ten days' journey before themto reach the buffalo range, it was agreed that theyshould start early each morning, and the campfires were therefore ordered to be lit at four o'clock.

The journey was uneventful for severas days.The road upon which the party had first traveledbearing off to the southwest, and the course of ourparty being due west, they left it. "Red RiverFrank" now sustained his good reputation as aguide by selecting with excellent skill and judg-ment the best portion of the country to travel in,avoiding the numerous swamps and sandy plains,finding safe and easy fords across the streams, andselecting good camp sites for each night.

They were now in a country where deer and tur-keys were abundant, and their tables were bounti-fully supplied with fresh meat. They camped onthe night of November 12 in a clump of tall cotton-wood trees that skirted a small creek. Just at duska great rush of wings was heard in the air, and,looking in the direction from whence the soundcame, a large flock of wild turkeys was seen sailingdirectly toward their camp, and, a moment later,


they lit in the trees amongst which our party wascamped. Instantly every rifle was brought forth,and the whole camp was ablaze with burning powder.The smoke floated up amongst the dazed and panic-stricken birds, who fluttered -wildly and aimlesslyfrom tree to tree, knocking'their -wings against eachother and the dead limbs, and making a most fright-ful noise.

The hunters scattered and tongues of flame shotup from every qu.arter. Volley- after volley wasfired. The roar of the rifles interspersed with the" thud" and " crash." of falling birds. the shouts ofthe excited throng, the neighing of terrified horses,the barking of dogs, turned the quiet camp of a fewmoments ago into a veritable- pandemonium. Theslaughter went on for, perhaps, twenty minutes,when the more humane became ashamed of them-selves and quit. Finally they prevailed upon theirfriends to desist, and the dead game was gatheredup. Sixty-three of these noble birds had met theirdeath, and the survivors were allowed to sit quietlyand watch the camp fires till morning, when theysailed away toward the east.

In the afternoon of that day, Frank and thejournalist were riding in advan.ce of the columnacross a level, monotonous stretch of country, wherethere was little to attract attention or excite remark.They had already become warm friends and talkedconfidentially on many subjects. but Frank hadsaid nothing of his past history, yet his strangedemeanor at times had excited in the mind ofthe newspaper man an anxiety to know whathad moved this refined, generous, scholarly young


man to adopt a life so uncivilized as the one he wasliving.

" Frank," he finally said, "I have no wish toquestion you on a subject that you may not wish tospeak on, yet I have observed many traits in youthat are not found in other men of your calling. Iam of the opinion that you have been bred in a verydifferent sphere of life from this in which you nowlive. If you have no objection, I should like toknow what motive prompted you to adopt this wildlife."

He bit his lip and hesitated. Finally, after somemoments, he said:

" Well, I'll tell you how it came about, and I'llmake the story brief. It is similar to that of manyanother scout, in general, but different in detail,perhaps, from any of them. I was born and bred inan Eastern city, and was being educated for theministry. My father failed in business and I wascompelled to leave school. He gathered what littlewas left of his shattered fortune, and with his familyemigrated to the far West. There he engaged infarming on what was then the frontier, but beforewe had been there six months we were awkened onemorning at daylight by the yells of savage Indians,and, looking out, beheld them all around us. Theywere Comanches.

" Our-house was burned. My father was toma-hawked and scalped before our eyes, and my mother,my sister (who was older than I), and myself werecarried into captivity. I was fortunate enough toescape. I returned and organized a pursuing party,but our efforts were fruitless, and a few months

AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 2.23,

later I learned from a half-breed that death hadrelieved the sufferings of my mother and sister.That was twenty years ago. I was fifteen years old.then, and from that day to this I have been on thetrail of that tribe. I boast of nothing, but each yearI feel better satisfied with my work. I hope that, intime, I may feel content to return East and engagein some lawful and more congenial pursuit."

At that instant a deer bounded up out of the tallgrass a hundred yards ahead and went prancingaway to the left. Frank caught his rifle from thesling al; his saddle bow and sent a bullet throughits head.

Early the next morning the hunters came uponfresh buffalo signs, and in the afternoon a fewstragglers were seen. One was killed in the even-ing, and on the creek where they camped that nightfresh Indian camp signs were found. A small herd_of buffalo came to the creek to drink, a mile below,just after sundown, and various facts indicatedthat they were near the main herd. All throughthe next day they were in sight of small bands, andseveral hunting parties were sighted, some whiteand some red. The feed was getting scarce, owingto its having been eaten down by the game, and attwo o'clock the party camped on Willow creek, asmall tributary of the Brazos river. The main herdwas yet about ten miles away, but the hunters couldnot consistently go any nearer for a permanent camp,and decided to make it here. Two white huntersvisited them in the evening, and told them that aparty of ten Comanches were camped on Turtlecreek seven miles further west. At this intelligence

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Frank's face darkened and his eye gleamed, but hesaid nothing. Soon after dark, however, he wasmissing, and did not turn up again till near noon thenext day. He had a different horse from the one herode away; not so good a one, it is true, and therewere two bullet holes in his coat. He was redntand uncommunicative as to where he had been, butwore a very pleased expression on his countenance,and was occasionally seen to smile when not talkingwith anyone.

The majority of the hunters mounted and rodesouthwest early in the morning. Seven men in oneparty sighted a herd of buffaloes numbering about200, and dismounting, when within a mile, cachedtheir horses in a coulee, and began a cautiousadvance.

They found a deep and crooked ravine into whichthey crawled, and in which they were able to ap-proach to within about 400 yards of the nearest ani-mals. A gentle breeze blew from the game towardthe hunters, and taking advantage of the most favor-able point, they crawled up the steep bank to wherethey could command a good view of the game. The" tenderfeet " in the party were in favor of firing avolley, but an old hunter who had led themadvised them to fire singly, and at intervals of aminute or two, this plan being much less likely to .

frighten the game. He cautioned them to take verycareful aim, to make every shot count, and to woundas few animals as possible. One slightly woundedanimal, he said, would create more uneasiness amongthe herd than ten dead or fatally wounded ones.

Several of this party were good marksmen, and15

226 CRITISINGS IN THE CA.SCADES

had good strong-shooting, long-range rifles. Thoughthey shot heavy charges, yet, the wind in their favor,at this long distance, the animals would scarcelyhear the reports. The leader advised them to shoot,only at animals broadside, and gave them carefuldirections as to elevation and where to aim. Evansopened the fire with a sixteen-pound 50-calibreSharp' s. Immediately after the report the emphatic" thud " of the bullet came back and a large cow wasseen to drop on her knees, get up again, staggeraway a few rods and lie down.

" Good," said the old hunter. " Now, Pete,you go."

" Pete fired, and an old bull whisked his tail,walked sullenly away, turned around a few times,and fell dead. Another complimentary remark fromthe old hunter, and then he said:

" Now I guess I'll try one."He fired, but to his great chagrin did just what he

had cautioned the others not to do, broke a fore legbelow the knee. This cow commenced to bellowand " buck," and in an instant the whole herd wasin commotion.

"Stop her, somebody, stop her, or she'll stampedethe hull bizness!" he said, as he pushed anotherbullet into his muzzle loader. By this time she hadstopped broadside, for a moment, at the edge of theherd, and the journalist, at the order of the boss, drewa bead on her. The " spat " of the heavy bullet toldof a palpable hit." She no longer felt like running,but was not yet dovvn and it took two more bullets tolay her out. The next shot was a clean miss, so faras it concerned the animal shot at, but it wounded


one somewhere in the herd. Then there was morecommotion and it was evident the " stand " was atan end.

" Give it to 'em, everybody," the old hunter nowsaid, and a fusillade followed that soon put themunder full speed.

The hunters now mounted their horses and madea 'run" on the band that resulted in some veryexciting sport and the death of three more buffaloes.This over, they returned to the scene of the firstfiring and gralloched the seven animas killed " onthe stand." Then they mounted their tired beastsagain and were on the point of starting for campwhen they heard strange noises, and looking towardthe west beheld a great black surging mass, wavingand rolling up across the prairie, half hidden bygreat clouds of dust which were only occasionallyblown away by the brisk autumn wind. It was thegreat herd of buffalo, and they had been stampededby the Indian hunters. The roar of the hoofs uponthe dry earth was like the low and sullen thunder.The vanguard of the herd was yet more than a mileaway, but the dark line stretched to right and leftalmost as far as the eye could reach, and our hunterssaw that instant and precipitate flight was necessaryin order to save their lives. They specially chose thenorthward as offering the shortest and best directionby which to escape the coming avalanche, and sinkingthe spurs deep into their terror-stricken beasts, theyflew with the velocity of an arrow across the wildprairie. A mile was covered in a few seconds, andyet they were not past the herd, which was rapidlyclosing in upon them.

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They turned their horses' heads partly in thedirection the buffaloes were going and, urging themto their utmost speed, finally passed the outer lineof the herd just as the leaders passed by. Then,having reached a place of safety, they dismounted,and throwing their bridle reins over their arms com-menced to load and fire into the herd with all possi-ble rapidity, nearly every shot killing or disablingan animal. It took nearly half an hour for the rolling,surging, angry horde to pass the point where ourhunters stood, and as the rear guard came in sightthere came a new and still more terrible scene in thegreat tragedy.

More than a hundred Indians were in hot pursuitof the savage beasts. They were mounted on wildand almost ungovernable bronchos, who were froth-ing at the mouth, charging and cavorting amongstthe fleeing game. The white foam dropped in flakesand bubbles from all parts of their bodies. Theirnostrils were distended, their eyes flashed fire, andthey seemed as eager as their wild masters todeal death to the buffaloes. The savage ridersseemed beside themselves with mad, ungovernablepassion.

Their faces were painted in the most glaring colors,their bright and many-colored blankets fluttered inthe wind secured to the saddle only by an end or acorner, their long black hair streaming back like thepennant at the mast head of a ship, and their deepblack eyes gleamed like coals of fire in a dungeon.Arrow after arrow flew from deep strung bows andsunk to the feathered tip in the quivering flesh ofthe shaggy monsters.


Ponderous spears were hurled with the power andprecision of giants arid struck down the defencelessvictims as a sturdy woodman strikes down the frailsapling in his path.

" Crack ! " " crack ! " came from rifles, and" ping ! " " ping ! " from carbines and revolvers.Hundreds of shots were fired by those who carriedfirearms, and before these murderous weapons, thepoor bison sank like ripened grain before the reap-er's blade.

. One young warrior, more ardent and fearless thanthe rest, had forced his high-strung steed far intothe midst of the solid phalanx, where the horsewas finálly impaled upon the horns of a monsterbull. Ele and his rider were tossed like sheaves ofwheat into the air; then both sank to earth, andwere instantly trodden into the dust.

At last the great storm had passed, and our friendswatched until it faded away in the distance andfinally disappeared from their view.

Then came the squaws, the boys, and the old men,to dispatch the wounded and to, skin and cut up thedead. These were strewn all over the prairie, andnot a tithe of them were, or could be, saved by allthe people, white and red, assembled there.

Our hunters returned to camp at sunset, wherethey met those of their companions who had beenout during the afternoon, and over the eveningcamp fire, each related the thrilling incidents whichhe had witnessed, or in which he had participatedduring the day.

On the following morning they again started out inseveral parties of five or six each and going in various


,directions. Frank and the newspaper man startedwith three others, but soon separated from them togo after a small band which they had sighted abouttwo miles south of camp.

When within a proper distance, they dismounted,picketed their horses in a swale, and stalking towithin about a hundred yards opened fire. A youngcow dropped at the first shot, to all appearancesdead, and the remainder of the band scurried away,one old bull being badly wounded. The huntersstarted to run to the top of a ridge, over which thegame had gone, to get another shot. As theypassed the cow the guide called to his companion tolook out for her, as she was only " creased " andliable to get up again and charge them. They hadgone but a few rods, when; sure enough, she didspring to her feet and make a dash at Frank.He turned to shoot her, but his gun missed fire, andas he attempted to throw out th e cartridge, the actionfailed to work, and his gun was, for the moment,disabled. By this time she was almost on him, andas his only means of escape, he sprang into a" washout" (a ditch that had been cut by thewater, some ten feet deep), the sides of which wereperpendicular.

He called loudly for help, but his friend had notseen the charge, and was by this time a hundredyards away. He turned and saw the cow, almostblind with rage, rapidly jumping back and forthacross the washout, in a mad effort to get at theguide, but she seemed unwilling to jump down intoit. She was shot through the throat, and the blood,flowing from her in torrents, had deluged poor


Frank, until he looked as if he had been at work ina slaughter-house. The scribe ran back, killed thecow, and drew his friend from his sanguinaryretreat.

The guide then repaired his gun, and mountingtheir horses they pursued the wounded bull. Theysoon found him at bay, and riding up close to him,commenced firing at him with their revolvers.Quick as a flash of lightning he made a frightfulcharge at the journalist, who, taken by surprise, wasunable to avoid the rush. Both horse and riderwere dashed to the earth. The horse was so badlyinjured as to be unable to rise, and as the burlyantagonist made another rush at him, the man wasenabled to seek safety in flight, and before the bullagain turned his attention to the fugitive, the rapidand well-directed fire of the scout had brought the,shaggy beast to the earth.

The horse was fatally injured and had to be shot,so our friends, with one horse between them, tookturns riding and walking to camp.

This day's killing by the party was large, andsupplied all their wants as to meat, skins, and sport.The next few days were devoted to jerking meat,dressing and drying skins, and preparing for thereturn journey, and in ten days from the date oftheir arrival on the hunting ground, the teams wereall loaded up, camp was broken, and the homewardmarch was begun, which progressed uneventfullyfrom day to day, and was nrade in safety in aboutthe same time occupied in going out.

Twice during the hunt the party were alarmed bythe discovery of Indians lurking about their camp,


late in the night. The guards discovered them inboth instances, and fired on them, when they beata hasty retreat and disappeared in the darkness. Itwas not known that their object was anything worsethan pilfering, and yet there was little doubt thathad they found the party all off guard and asleep,a massacre would have resulted. But, true to theiraboriginal instincts, they did not wish to engage ina fight with a formidable foe, whom they found everready for such an emergency.

e -

PROWLERS.

Such scenes and such sport as this party enjoyedwere common almost anywhere on the great plainswest of the Missouri river up to a few years ago.Herds of buffalo extending over a tract of land aslarge as one of the New England States, and number-ing hundreds of thousands of heads, might be found_any day in what was then buffalo country." An_

army officer told me that, when crossing the plainsin 1867 with a company of cavalry, he encountereda herd that it took his command three days to ridethrough, marching about thirty miles a day.

When two of our transcontinental railways were

"

'234 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES

first built it was no uncommon thing for herds ofbuffalo to delay tiains for several hours in cross-ing the tracks, the animals being packed in so closetogether that the train could not force a passagethrough them.

But, alas, those days are passed forever. Thisnoble creature, provided to feed the human mul-titude who should people the prairies, is to-daypractically eXtinct; slaughtered and annihilated bythat jackal of the plains, that coyote in humanshape, the " skin hunter." Hundreds of thousandsof buffaloes were annually killed, their skins sold atfrom seventy-five cents to a dollar and a half each,and the meat which, when properly taken care of, isequal, if not superior, to the finest domestic beef,was left to rot on the ground.

There are scarce] y a hundred buffaloes left on thecontinent to day in their wild state. A very fewstragglers are known to be in the Panhandle ofTexas, a small bunch in the Yellowstone NationalPark, and a few in the British Northwest, butthey are being remorselessly pursued by large num-bers of hunters, and it is safe to say that a yearhence not one will be left in the whole broadWest unless it be those in the park, and they willescape only in case they stay within the park limitswhere they are protected by United States soldiers.Should they ever stray beyond the bounds of the_park they will all be killed in less than a week.

Several small bunches have been domesticated byWestern cattlemen, and it is hoped the species may,by this means, be saved from total extinction.They are being successfully cross-bred with domes-


tic cattle, and an excellent strain of stock is thusproduced, but the grand herds that for ages roamedat will over the great plains are a thing of thepast.

CHAPTER XXV.

HUNTING THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT.

HERE is, perhaps, no large mammal in thiscountry of which the scientific world andthe reading public in general knows solittle as of the Rocky Mountain goat(Aplocerus Montanus). There are severalreasons for this. First, its limited range.It is confined to a small area of the Rocky

Mountains, principally west of the maindivide; to Western Montana, Eastern Idaho,the Cascade Range in Washington Territory,

a small portion of British Columbia, and to .Alaska.Secondly, its habitat is the tops or near the tops of thehighest and most rugged peaks and cliffs, wherenone but the hardiest and most daring hunter mayventure in pursuit of it, and so comparatively veryfew are ever killed and brought into the settlements.Third, it can not be successfully domesticated. ltsfavorite food is so diffc-m,nt from that generallygrowing in or near any settlement, the atmosphereit breathes, the mean temperature in which it lives,and the ground, or rather rocks, on which_ it isaccustomed to walk, so widely different from thosesurrounding any human habitation, that the few-

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young that have been captured and brought downto the settlements have soon died. So that none ofthem are found in parks and zoological gardens, asare specimens of nearly all other large wild animals.

There are fewer mounted skins of this animal inEastern museums than of any other species indige-nous to this country, and hence the public andnaturalists have had fewer opportunities to studyand become familiar with it than with other wildmammals. Yet it is one of the most beautiful andinteresting of all our American quadrupeds, andprobably no sportsman or naturalist has ever yetmustered courage and hardihood enough to go wherehe could kill a Rocky Mountain goat without feel-ing amply repaid for all the labor and hardshipencountered by being able to behold this mysticcreature in his lofty mountain home. In view ofthe limited facilities people have had for studyingthis animal a som.ewhat minute description of it maynot be amiss here.

In size it is but a trifle larger than the Merinosheep, which, in fact, it closely resembles in manyrespects. The form of its body is robust, fore partsrather thicker than hinder parts, with a slight humpover shoulders, similiar to that of the American.bison. Its color is entirely white, or, in someinstances, of a light creamy shade. Hair long andpendant. A beard-like tuft of hair on the chin.Long coarse hair, more abundant, on shoulders, neck,and back. Under and intermixed with this longhair there is a close coat of fine, silky, white wool,equal in fineness to that of the Cashm.ere goat. Hairon face and legs short and without wool. Horns


(which are present in both sexes) jet black, small,conical, nearly erect, polished, and curving slightlybackVvard; ringed or wrinkled at the base, much likethose of the chamois. Muzzle and hoofs also black.False or accessory hoofs present. Dentition: Incisors,8 lower; canines, none; molars, 12 upper, 12 lower;total 32. The mountain goat brings forth twoor three young at a time, usually late in May orearly in June. Slightly gregarious, being frequentlyfound in small bands in winter, but in summer sea-son.not more than a single family is usually seentogether, and in summer and fall the older malesmay frequently be found entirely alone. The noseis nearly straight, ears rather long, pointed, andlined with long hair. Tail six to eight inches long,clothed with long hair. Legs thick and short.Hoofs grooved on sole and provided with a thickspongy mass of cartilage in centre, projecting belowthe outer edges of hoof, enabling the animal to,cling firmly to steep or smooth rocks. The dimen-sions of one adult male spechnen measured are asfollows: Length from tip of nose to root of tail, 3feet 7 inches; length of tail, 7 inches; length of head,111 inches; length of horns, 8-1- inches; diameter ofhorns at base, I inch. Its estimated gross weight is130 pounds.

The food of the mountain goat consists principally,in summer, of the leaves of the alder and of variousmountain shrubs, and in winter of mosses andlichens that grow on the rocks.

Aplocerus Montanus is much more closely alliedto the antelope than to the, domestic goat, and hasfew characteristics in common with the latter

AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 23g

genus. He is an agile, fearless climber, and appearsto delight in scaling the tallest, grandest, and mostrugged crags and cliffs to be found in the rangeswhich he inhabits, not so much in quest of hisfavorite food, for this grows abundantly lower down,but apparently from a mere spirit of daring; from a.desire to breathe the rarest and purest atmosphereobtainable, and to view the grandest scenery underthe sun without having his vision in the leastobstructed by intervening objects. These forbiddingand almost inaccessible crags are the favorite, andnearly the exclusive, haunts of this strange creature,and the hunter who follows it thither must indeedbe a daring mountaineer. The goat is frequentlyfound at altitudes of 10,000 to 14,000 feet, where theatmosphere is so rare as to render it difficult indeedfor man to climb, yet this fearless creature nimblyleaps from crag to crag, over deep yawning chasms,with no more fear than the domestic lamb feels whenbounding over the greensward in an Eastern farm-yard.

The hunter literally takes his life in his handwhen pursuing the goat, for he must pass over manyplaces where a misstep or a slip of a few incheswould plunge him over a precipice, where he wouldfall thousands of feet, or be hurled into some narrowand deep fissure in the rocks whence escape would -

be impossible.Over such rugged and perilous ground he may

climb, hour after hour, until he has passed the high-est ranges of the elk, the mountain sheep, and all theother game, for the mountain goat, " the Americanchamois," as he has been aptly termed, ranges


higher than any of them. He may toil on until heis far above timber line, and .is working his wayover and around vast drifts and beds of perpetualsnow and ice. Finally he sights his gamea finehandsome specimenstanding fearlessly on some jut-ting crag, deliberately feeding on some tender lichensor, perhaps, peering proudly out over the lowerworld. The hunter now changes his course until hecan conceal himself behind some neighboring rock,and then crawls stealthily and cautiously up towithin rifle range of the game. Then, peering cau-tiously from behind his cover, he takes careful aimand fires. He is a dead shot and the rifle ball piercesthe heart of the quarry, but to his dismay it makesa convulsive bound and down it goes over the preci-pice, rebounding from crag to crag, until it finallyreaches a resting place hundreds of feet below. Itmay go to where he can never mach it, or may landwhere he can recover it on his return down themountain side; but if the latter, it may be torn tofragments and scattered here and there until thehide is useless, the horns are broken off, the skullcrushed so that the head is unfit to mount, and theflesh so bruised and mangled that he can scarcelysave enough of it to make him a dinner.

A few years ago an officer of the United Statesarmy and a party of friends were hunting goats inthe Bitter Root Mountains, near Missoula, Mont.They followed twoa male and femaleto the topof a rough and dangerous peak, when the game,before they could get a shot at it, started down theopposite side and took refuge froin the huntersunder a shelving rock. Here it was, owing to the

AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES. '241

nature of the rocks and ice, absolutely impossiblefor the hunters to follow them on foot, but theintrepid officer, not to be baffled in the pursuit, tied along rope securely around his body, just under hisarms, said down, and gr sping his rifle slid quietlydown, on a bed of ice, some sixty or seventy feet,while his companions held on to the other end of the.rope and controlled his perilous descent. Finally,when he had gone far enough to be able to see thegame, he signaled his friends, who stopped him, andraising on his elbows he fired and killed both goats,and was then drawn up again in safety. Such,however, was the nature of the rocks between himand the carcasses that it was utterly impossible toreach them after he had killed them, and he wascompelled reluctantly to abandon them. Severalmembers of the party tried to reach them fromother points, but were unable to do so, and they-were all obliged to return empty-Landed toCaHip.

In another instance this same officer, upon crawl-ing out on the edge of a shelving rock and lookingdown over a precipice hundreds of feet below, sawtwo goats near the base, but they were actually insideof a perpendicular line running down from the edgeof the rock he occupied, and he was therefore linableto bring his rifle to bear upon them without project-ing his body out over the edge of the rock furtherthan was safe. After discussing the matter forsome minutes, one of his friends offered to hold hisfeet and thus, enable him to extend his head andshoulders far enough out to get his aim. By thismeans both of the goats were killed, but a party

le


had to go around and ascend the mountain from the,other side in order to secure them.

The same party, while climbing the rugged andalmost perpendicular face of Little Mountain tobring clown some goats they had already killed,carne suddenly upon a large buck in a narrow V-shaped fissure in the rock, from which there was noescape but by the opening at which they had entered,and across this they formed a skirmish line. Thegoat climbed upon a neorow projection on one of thewalls of the fissure just out of reach of the tallest-man in the party, and as they had no rifles iviththem. (having left them belOw to lighten the labor ofthe ascent), they tried to dislodge him by throwingrocks at him, but their footing was so insecure andthere was such great danger of their falling thatthey could not hurl these with sufficient force to,bring him down though several of them hit him. Ifthey had had a rope they could easily have lassoedhim, but there was no such thing; at hand. Theyfinally decided to leave one of the men to guardtheir prisoner, and on their return to camp anotherman took a rifle, went back, killed the goat, and thetwo bore him triumphantly down to camp. The-gentleman says : "Had I not been an eye witness,and had I subsequently been shown the place wherethe goat stood thus at bay, I could scarcely havebelieved it possible.for anything larger than a fly to-have found footing there."

Fortunately, however, the successful hunting ofthe goat is not always thus perilous, for though hehabitually selects for his home the roughest andmost inaccessible peaks to be found in the mount-


ains, yet he sometimes ranges on more favorableground, and if the sportsman be so fortunate as tofind him there he may be killed and saved. Theyrange somewhat lower in winter than in summer,but never even then venture down into the canonsor valleys, as do all the other large mountain ani-mals. They only come down upon the lower peaksand ridges, and remain about the rocky walls, whichare so precipitous that the snow can not lie on themto any considerable depth. Their power of climbingover and walking on these almost perpendicularrock walls is utterly astounding. They will walkalong the side of an upright projecting ledge thattowers hundreds of feet above and below themwhere a shelf projects not more than four or fiveinches wide. They will climb straight up an almostperpendicular wall, if only slightly rough and irre,gular, so that they can get a chance to hold on withtheir spongy hoof's here and there. And they seemto select these difficult passes in many instanceswhen a good, easy passage could be had to the placeto which they are bound by going a little furtheraround. They seem to delight in scaling a danger-ous cliff as a coura,geous boy does in climbing thetallest tree. I once saw where a goat had walkedstraight up over a smooth fiat slab of granite tenfeet wide, that laid at an angle of about fifty degrees,and that was covered with about two inches of wetsnow and slush. I could not climb up it with moc-casins on my feet, and no dog could have followedhim there. This fa,culty is accounted for by thepeculiar shape and quality of their hoofs beforedescribed.


The skin of the Rocky Mountain goat has neverhad any regular commercial vale. The stiff, coarse,brittle hair that is mixed with the wool renders themunsuitable for robes or rugs, and this hair can notreadily be plucked out. The only demand for themis for mounting. Very few white hunters and noneof the Indians understand how to skin and preservethem properly for this purpose, and this fact, takenin connection with that of the rough and dan-gerous nature of the ground they inhabit, makesit difficult to secure good skins, or even heads formounting.

The flesh of the goat is edible, but in the adultanimal is dry and tasteless. When kids of less thana year old can be obtained, their flesh is tender andtoothsome. They are not hunted,therefore, for meat,for in the ranges where they are found, deer, mount-ain sheep, or elks can be obtained much lower downand are much more desirable for the table.

During a sojourn of a month in the Bitter Root1_,VIountains, near Missoula, Mont., last fall I hadsome very exciting, not to say dangerous, experi-ences in hunting this animal. We were camped inLost Horse Cation, through which flows a typicalmountain stream. The walls on both sides are veryabrupt and from three to four thousand feet in height.That on the north is covered from bottom to top withgreat masses of granite that have been broken loosefrom the cliffs at the top by earthquakes, the actionof frost, or other agency, and have tumbled down,breaking into irregular-shaped fragments, of all sizes,lodging and piling on top of each other in such amanner as to form a giountic sort of pavement from

AND OTHER, HUNTING ADVENTURES. 245

the top of the mountain to the foot. There werenarrow strips of the mountain side that liad escapedthese fallen masses. Here the outcropping granitere.nained in its natural shapeirregular ledges withsmall patches of earth intervening. Pines, hemlocks,cedars, and various hinds of shritbs grew in theseplaces as far up the mountain side as the timber line.

I ascended this north wall one morning and aftera weary and toilsome climb of about two miles,and when in snow about six inches deep, I cameupon the track of a very large goat. It wassome hours old, but he had been feeding deliberatelyalong the mountain side, and as they are not rapidtravelers in any case, I knew he was not a greatdistance away. I took up the trail and followed it.It led over a succession of these vast rock piles,which, owing to their being covered with snow, madethe traveling doubly dangerous. A slight misstepat any point, or an unfortunate slip would be liableto let my foot drop in between t wo of these rocksand throw me in such a way as to break a leg, an arm,or possibly my head. The greatest care was there-fore necessary in picking my way over this dangerouscountry, and I was frequently struck with the wiseprovisions which Nature makes for fulfilling herends when I saw where the animal I was pursuinghad bounded lightly from rock to rock over chasmsmany feet in width; or where he had walked up thesharp edge of some slab of gTanite not more thanthree or four inches wide and lying at a high angle;or where he hal walked up over a flat slab of it,tilted so steep that no other, large animal in themountains could have followed him. There were


many of his passages in which I could not follow,but I had to make slow and tortuous detours, comingupon his trail again beyond these most dangerouspoints.

Had he traveled straight ahead I could never haveovertaken him, but the time he consumed in fre-quently stopping to nip the tender leaves of themountain alder or the juicy lichens that grow uponthe rocks proved fatal to him, and finally, after achase of probably two miles and when near the topof the peak close to timber line, I came in s'ght ofhim. He was truly a beautiful creature. There hestood, unconscious of approaching danger, look-ing calmly out across a neighboring cailon as ifenjoying the grand scenery about him. Occasionallyhe turned to take a mouthful of some delicate mount-ain herb that stood near him The pale creamy whiteof his fleece contrasted delicately and beautifullywith the green of the cedars, the golden autumn-col-ored leaves of the shrubs, the dull gray of the graniterocks, and the pure white of the early autumn snow.The sunlight glistened upon the polished black ofhis proudly curved and beautif ally rounded horns,and his large black eyes gleamed as with consciousinnocence and pride. I contemplated his majesticmien for severas minutes before I could nerve my-self to the task of taking his life, but finally thehunter's instinct conquered my more delicate feel-ings. I put my rifle to my shoulder, pressed thegently yielding trigger, and in an instant more hislife blood crimsoned the driven snow.

After making temporary disposition of his remains,I returned as rapidly as possible to camp to get my


photographic outfit and some help to carry himin, for we were short of meat at the time. It wasthree o'clock in the afternoon when I reached camp,and, eating a hasty lunch, I started back up themountain with three of my friends.

When we again reached the carcass it was fiveo' clock, and our work must be done hastily in order toget down the mountain as far as possible before dark.To add to the discomfort of our undertaking a driz-zling rain set in just as I was ready to make the views.I exposed a couple of plates, however, which for-tunately turned out fairly. We then set to work toskin him as rapidly as possible, and as soon as thiswas accomplished we started on our return to camp,two of the men taking the two hind quarters of theanimal, another my camera, and I the skin and head.With these loads, weighing from twenty-five tothirty-five pounds each, besides our rifles, and con-sidering the difficult and dangerous nature of theground we had to travel over and the fact that it wasalready beginning to grow dark, we had, indeed, aperilous journey before us. Climbing over these rockpiles when covered with snow was difficult enoughwork in daylight, but to attempt it in the dark-ness and now that it was raining heavily, the snowhaving become wet and slushy and the rocks moreslippery than before, it was doubly perilous.

Our course lay diagonally down and along the sideof the mountain, and as long as the light was suffi-cient to at all see where we were stepping we inadefair progress. Frequently, however, someone wouldslip and fall, but fortunately without receiving anyserious injury. We were often compelled to hold to


some shrub or tree and let ourselves down over pro-jecting rocks severas feet, where we could not possi-bly have stood up without such aid.

Finally, when we were yet less than half way downthe mountain side, it became pitch dark. Here wesat down to rest. The rain was falling in torrents,and but for the snow on the ground vv.e could notnow have seen a step ahead of us. We had enteredone of those more favored strips of land where thefalling rocks had not covered the ground entirely,and where there was a considerable growth of timber,both large trees and underbrush. I was in favor ofgoing straight down through this into the creek bot-tom where we could at least walk in safety, even ifour progress should be slower. One of my friendsMr. Overturfagreed with me, but the other two

McWhirk and Mr. Hinchman preferred tocontinue over the rocks in a direct line to camp. Wetherefore decided to separate, Frank and I goingstraight down through this strip of timber and overthe smoother ground, and the other two followingthe more direct course.

We two reached the foot of the mountain in aboutan hour more; not, however, without encounteringserious difficulties in grasping and finding our waydown over precipitous rocks and earth, hanging onto one limb or shrub until we carne in reach ofanother, and thus letting ourselves down safely.We were then about a mile and a half from camp.The creek bottom was densely timbered. There was.a dim game trail leading through it up to our camp,but it was impossible to follow it in the darkness,and, in fact, it required the closest attention of experi-

AND OTHER HLTNTING ADVENTURES. 249

enced woodsmen and hunters to follow it in day-light. We were therefore utterly at sea. We weresafe, however, and we heaved a sigh of relief whenwe found ourselves on level ground, for none of ushad relished the idea of having a bone broken in thatcountry, so far from medical aid and home comforts.

Great snow slides had for ages been coming downthese mountain sides bringing their débris, suchas rocks, a,nd logs, and whole trees with them.These had frequently gone some distance into thecreek bottom, breaking and felling all the trees intheir path. Tornadoes had raged through the carion,also, breaking and lopping trees in various direc-tions, so that we now encountered a body of woodsthrough which the most expert woodsman could notpossibly travel more than a mile an hour in day-light. Add to this the cimmerian darkness in whichwe were now groping (for there was no snow here inthe bottom of the carion) abd the reader may wellimagine that our progress was slow a,nd tedious inthe extreme.

We sat down and held a,nother consultation. Ifavored building a fire and staying there till morn-ing, but Frank preferred pushing on to camp, so Iacquiesced. We soon found, however, that it wasutterly impossible for us to get through these wind-falls in the darkness and with our heavy loads, and_decided as a last resort to get into the bed of thecreek and wade up it. We were already wet to theskin from head to foot, and this wading could be noworse than clambering over logs and through junglesof wet underbrush. We soon reached the creek andour hearts sa,nk within us as we listened to its tumult-


lions roar and looked upon its angry bosom, forhere we were enabled to. see slightly, owing to thetaint light admitted through the narrow opening inthe trees overhead, how rough and boisterous it was!Its bed was a succession, of bowlders from the size ofa man's head to that of a small house, and its waters,,coming direct from the snow, were ice cold Yet tocamp here was to suffer all night from wet and cold,and we preferred to push on.

By keeping near the shore we could nearly all thetime have brush to hang to and steady ourselves,but where there were none of these in reach ourrubber boots slipped on the smooth wet rocks, andseveral times we fell into the icy flood up to ourchins. Once, in particular, I fell in water nearlythree feet deep, dropped my gun and it went to thebottom. I fished it out, however, staggered to myfeet, a,nd struggled on.

After nearly two hours of this terrible trudging,wading, and staggering, we at last reached camp ateleven o'clock at night and triumphantly depositedour burdens within the tent.

Our two friends, from whom we had separated en,route, had arrived only half an hour ahead of as, andnotwithstanding the rain, which still fell heavily,Dr Hale, who liad remained in camp, had a greatlog-heap fire blazing in front of the tent. A pot ofcoffee steamed by the lire, and a sumptuous supperof broiled bear steaks, baked potatoes, and hotbiscuits awaited us, but I was too tired to eat. Idrank a pint of hot coffee, put on dry flannels,cmwled into my blankets, and slept soundly tillmorning.


As further illustrating the habits of the mountaingoat and the perils attending its capture, I may bepermitted to narrate the experience of Mr. West-lake, a ranchman in Eastern Idaho, who attemptedto procure a pair of skins for a friend in the 'East afew years ago. He employed a Flathead Indian asgnide ami assistant, who claimed to know the countrythoroughly in which they purposed hunting, and tohave had considerable experience in hunting goats.Mr. Westlake provided himself with a good saddle-horse and one pack-horse, a rifle, camp outfit, includ-ing a small tent, and provisions for himself and theIndian for twenty days. The Indian was fairlymounted on a small but tough Indian pony and wellarmed. They set out on September 2, and traveledacross the country to the Clearwater river, up whichthey rode several days, over a very difficult and tedi-ous trail, and when well up toward the head of thestream they reached the mouth of one of its tribu-taries which debouches from a deep and ruggedcation. Up this they decided to go, for it was theirintention to reach the Bitter Root Mountains, oneof the best known ranges for the goat.

This cal on proved, like many others in thatregion, almost impassable for man or beast, and itwas with the utmost difficulty and by the enduranceof untold and incredible hardships that they wereable to make seven or eight miles a day. Theyencountered plenty of game in the calion, however,among which were elks, bears, and mule-deer, andthe creek which ran through the cation yieldedthem an abundance of trout, so that they faredsumptuously so far as food was concerned.

252 CRITISINGS IN 'rim CASCADES

Finally, after several days in this canon, theyreached the head of it and came out on a high pla-teau which was covered with heavy pine timberinterspersed with beautiful parks or meadows andthickets of aspen and alder. Numerous springs boil-ing up here coursed down into the call on from whichthey liad just emerged, and fed the creek which ranthrough it. Pressing forward across this forma-tion for a distance of about ten miles, they reachedthe base of one of the great snow-capped peaks,near the top of which they expected to find the par-ticular game of which they were in search. Butthis mountain was so precipitous a,nd so rough thatit was impossible for them to get their horses up it inany way. They discussed various plans of accom-plishing their object. It was highly dangerous toleave their horses here alone, test the bears ormountain lions, which were so numerous in thevicinity, should stampede a-nd run them off. It wasimpossible for either man to go alone and bringdown two of the skins and heads suitably preparedfor mounting, as they, with the other load whiGh itwas necessary to take along, would be more thanany one man could carry. It would take two daysto make the ascent, have a few hours for hunting,and return to where they then were, and in order topass the night at all comfortably in that high alti-tude a liberal supply of blankets must be carried.

They theref ore decided, as the only feasible plan,to make camp where they were and start up earlythe next morning, leaving their horses behind.They made all possible preparations that night, andthe next morning arose at four o'clock. By sunrise


they had breakfasted, and with their packs, con-sisting of two pairs of blankets each and a two days'supply of cooked food, they started. They did notdare picket or hobble their horses, as either wouldgive the wild beasts a chance to attack and killthem, and could only trust to luck, an abundantsupply of good grass and water, and the well-knownattachment which nearly all Western horses feel fora camp, to keep th-,,m there until their return.

After a hard day's climb they came upon abun-dant signs of goats about the middle of the after-noon, and, preparing a temporary bivouac under ashelving rock, they deposited their loads, made apot of coffee, ate a hearty dinner, and started out tolook for the game. They had not gone far whenMr. -Westlake sighted a large, handsome male goatstanding on the top of a cliff, and approachingWithin easy rifle range he fired and killed it. It fellsome twenty or thirty feet, and lodged behind a pro-jecting slab of granite. It was secured after consid-erable hard work, hastily skinned, and the skin andsOme of the best cuts of the meat carried to theirtemporary camp. Night was now approaching, andthe hunters set about preparing a supply of wood.There were numerous dead pine and cedar trees, ofstunted growth and peculiar shapes, standing andlying among the rocks, and a generous supply wassoon provided. Next, a large quantity of cedarboughs were cut, brought in and spread under theoverhanging rock, to a depth of a foot or mo:.e. Onthese the blankets were spread, and the hunters had abed which many a tired lodger in Eastern city hotelsMight well envy them. By building a rousing fire


in front, which was reflected against the rock wallbehind them, and by occasionally replenishing itduring the night, they slept comfortably, thoughthe temperature ran severas degrees below zero.

Early the next morning both men started out insearch of a female goat to complete their under-taking. Nearly two hours liad heen spent in hunt-ing, ivhen the Indian found a fresh track in thesnow some distance above their temporary camp.He followed it until it led in among a forest of rentand jagged cliffs of granite, and Westlake, whowas some distance away, seeing by the Indian'smotions that he was on a trail, started toward him.When within a few feet of vvhere he had last seenthe Indian he heard the report of his rifle, and ashout announced that his shot had been successful.Mr. Westlake follovved on into the chasm fromwhence the report came and saw the Indian attempt-ing to scale the side of a nearly perpendicular wallof rock, stepping cautiously from niche to nicheand shelf to shelf; holding on with his hands toevery projecting point that afforded him any assist-ance. He finally reached the top of the ledge, andreaching over caught hold of the now lifeless body ofthe goat that he had killed, and drew it toward him.But when it swung off from the top of the ledge itsweight and the consequent strain on his muscularpower was greater than the Indian had anticipated,and before he had time to let go of the carcass andsave himself his slight hold on the rock was tornloose, and uttering a wild shriek he fell a distance ofnearly sixty feet, striking on a heap of brokenrocks ! He was instantly killed.

AND OTHER MINTING ADVENTURES. 255

Here was a sad blow to poor Westlake. His onlycompanion, his faithful guide, and the only humanbeing within fifty miles of him, lay a corpse at hisfeet. He had no means whatever of getting thebody back to their camp, much less of returning itto the unfortunate red ma,n's friends. He had noteven a tool of any kind to dig a grave with, and theonly thing he could do in that direction was to builda wall of rocks around the body, lay some flat slabsacross the top, and then carry and lay on top ofthese a number of the largest and heaviest rocks hecould handle, to protect it from the ravages of wildbeasts. When this sad duty was completed hereturned with a heavy heart to their temporarycamp, and with as much of their luggage as he wasable to carry started down the mountain. Arrivingabout noon at the tent, he was horrified to find thetracks of a large bear in and about it, the greaterportion of his supplies eaten up or destroyed, andhis horses nowhere in sight. A hasty examinationshowed that the bear liad passed through the littlepark in which they had last been grazingevidentlyearly that morningthat they had taken flight andfled in the direction of the head of the call on upwhich they had come. Westlake followed themseveral miles until convinced that they had reallystarted on their back trail, and then he returned tocamp. By this time night was again approachingand it was with a heavy heart that he prepared topass it there, all alone, and still further depressedwith the thought that he had now a journey of ahundred miles or more before him, to the nearest 'set-tlement, which he must undoubtedly make on foot.

2$6 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES.

He ate his supper alone and in sadness, and as thecamp fire blazed in front of his tent it cast fitfulshadows into the gloom, which was unbroken byany sound save the occasional soughing of the windthrough the pine trees or the cry of some wild ani-mal. He finally retired to rest, but his sleep vasbroken by troubled dreams As the sun arose heprepared a hasty meal, which was eaten in silence,and with a pair of blankets, a few pounds of flour,salt, and coffee, and his rifle, he started, leaving histent standing and all else in it as a monument to thememory of his friend and a landmark to futurehunters and mountaineers to locate the scene of hisgreat misfortune. He traveled s'even days beforeseeing the face of a human being or sleeping undera shelter of any kind, when he finally reached aranch where his horses had preceded him and liadbeen corraled to await an owner.

It is fortunate that all goat hunters do not meetwith such disasters as did poor Westlake and hisyoung friend, or the noble sport would have stillfewer votaries than it now has.

SEPTEMBER, 1884, I joined a party ofgenial sportsmen at Fort Missoula, Mont.,for a month' s outing in the Bitter Root

Mountains. Our special mission was to huntlarge game ; but while perfecting arrange-ments for the trip, which occupied two

11-'4aS.- days, and during the mornings and eveningsof the several days occupied .in traveling up

and down the river to and from the huntinggrounds, those of us who had our fishing tacklewith us turned what would otherwise have beenlong hours of impatient waiting into merrily-fieeingmoments, by luring the grand mountain trout(Salmo purpuratus) with which this river aboundsfrom their crystalline retreats and transferring themto our creels and our camp table.

The Bitter Root is a typical mountain stream,rising among the snow-clad peaks in the vicinity ofthe Big Hole basin and flowing with the mightyrush imparted to it by a fall of 200 to 300 feet permile, fed by the scores of ice-cold brooks that tumbleout of the high ranges on either side from its sourceto its mouth. After traversing a distance of per-haps 200 miles, it empties its pure waters into theHellgate river, just west of Missoula.

17 (237)

CHAPTER XXVI.

TROUTING IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

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Its valley is two to four miles wide, and the lowerportion of this is occupied. by numerous ranches. Thesoil is tilled by well-to-do farmers or " ranchmen,"to speak in the vernacular of the country, so thatthe angler, while within a mile or two of ruggedmountain peaks, is still in the midst of civilization,where his larder may daily be replenished withne irly all the varieties of good things that grow onany New England farm. The banks of the streamare fringed with stately pines and cottonwoods, andin places with thickets of underbrush.

From a tiny brook at its source the stream growsrapidly to a veritable river of thirty to fifty yardsin width as it passes on toward its destination. Itsweeps and whirls in its course, here runningstraight and placidly for a hundred yards, thenturning abruptly to right or left and returningalmost parallel to itself, forming " horse-shoe bends,"" ox-bow bends," compound S's, right angles,etc.

In many cases it tumbles down over a long, steeppavement of granite bowlders, working itself into avery agony of bubbles and foam, and when the footof this fall is reached it whirls and eddies in a greatpool ten or twenty feet deep and covering half anacre of ground, almost surrounded by high-cutbanks, and seeming to have lost its way. It event-ually finds an exit, however, through an opening inthe willows and masses of driftwood, and againspeeds on.

In many of these large, deep pools whole trees, ofgiant size, brought down by the spring freshets,have found lodgment beyond the power of the


mighty current to drive them further, and under-neath these drifts the angler is liable to hook a lustytrout that will make short work of his tackle if bebe not very gentle and expert in manipulating it.

SOLID COMFORT.

This river may be fished from a canoe or boat, ifit be manned by a master of the art of fresh-watercruising; but no amateur oarsman,or canoeist should

AD OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 261

ever attempt it or he will surely come to grief. Itmay also be fished from the bank or by wading;and I- have even known it to be fished from thehurricane-deck of a cayuse, so that all lovers of thegentle art may be accommodated.

A large bump of caution would also be a good.thing for the man to take along who essays to wadeit, for he will find placesslippery placeswhereeven the wicked can not stand; for over the surfacethereof flows such a mighty torrent of waters thathis pride will surely have a fall, even if he do not;and if he get out with a dry thread on his back hewill regard it as a miracle and not owing to anyskill or strength of his. I think a day on thatstream will take the conceit out of any living manand show him what a poor, weak woim he is, if heget into some of the places I have been in. He willfind himself in positions from whence he would givehalf his worldly possessions to be delivered; wherehe would forgive his bitterest enemy the meanestthing he ever did if he were only there and wouldcast him a friendly line. The bed of the stream iScomposed of glacial drift, all the rapids being pavedwith bowlders varying in size from an inch to twoor three feet in diameter. These are worn smoothby the action of the water and coated with a lightgrowth of fungus, so that they furnish a very pre-carious footing at best, and when the power ofthe raging torrent is brought to bear against one'snether limbs, he is, indeed, fortunate who is notswept into the pool below.

On the riffles or more placid portions of the streamwading is not attended with so much danger or diffi-

262 CRUISINGS IN TEE CASCADES

culty. And while the angler beguiles the hours indalliance with these beauties of the river, gazinginto its crystalline depths and toying with its poeticdenizens, a glance to east or west reveals to himscenes of even grander and moreinSpiring loveliness; for there, so :, .

close as to reveal their every rockand shrub, tower the shapelypeaks, the shattered crags andbeetling cliffs which constitutethe Bitter Root range ofmountains. And even inmidsummer the freshpure breezes sweep-ing down from .

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these snow-clad summits fan his parched brow andrender existence, under such circumstances, therealization of a poet's dream.

On a bright, cheery September morning, PrivateWestbrook, of the Third Infantry, and myself left


camp as soon as the sun had expelled the frost fromthe vegetation. On the way down we caught a num-ber of grasshoppersthe orthodox bait in this regionto fall back on in case of necessity; for there aredays when the mountain trout, as well as his cousin,the brook trout of the East, declines the most seduc-tive fly on the bill of fare, and will have nothing buthis favorite every-day diet.

Arriving at the river, Westbrook skirmishedthrough the brush until he found an alder about aninch and a quarter in diameter at the ground and tenor twelve feet high. This he cut, trimmed up, andattached his line, a number two Sproat hook and asplit shot, put on a " hopper," and was ready forbnsiness. I remonstrated gently with him on theheathenish character of his tackle, but he said, pleas-antly and politely, that it was the kind that gener-ally got to the front when trout-fishing was thebusiness in hand. He said the fancy rods and reelsand flies were all well enough for those who wantedto use them, but he preferred something withwhich be could round up his fish and corral themwithout losing any time. He said it was allright for any gentlemen to spend half an hourmonkeying a trout after he had hooked it, if hewanted to, but for his part, he never could seemuch fun in that sort of fishing. He thought itwas decidedly more interesting to yank a fish inout of the wet the instant he bit, and then lay foranother.

He walked boldly out into the stream, wadeddown a little way below the ford, on a riffle, till hereached a point where the water was about two


feet deep and where it rolled sullenly and gloomilyover a series of large bowlders.

Here he made a cast, and his bait had barelytouched the water when there was a vicious rush, aswirl and a dash downstream, but the cruel polewas brought to bear in the opposite direction.Then there was a flop, a splash, a hop, skip and ajump, and a three-pound trout took a header andwent down into the soldier's haversack.

The bait was renewed, another cast made, and theact was repeated on a half-pounder. Then anotherweighing one-and-a-half pounds and a couple ofabout a pound each followed in rapid succession,when this portion of the stream failed to yield, andWestbrook moved on down. I followed along thebank and watched him for half an hour beforeattempting to rig my tackle at all. To watch theplay of the various emotions on his hard, brown,honest face; to study the effect of the intense enthu-siasm which possessed him; to note the utter disre-gard of personal safety and comfort with which hewould plunge into the surging rapids and eddies upto his waist, or even to his arm-pits, wherever hethought he could catch a trout by so doing, was agenuine treat.

Finally I went back to the ford, jointed up myrod, put on a gray professor, and walking down. thebank to a sudden bend in the river where the currenthad cut a deep hole near the bank, I made a cast.The fly dropped on the riffle just above the eddy,and as it floated gracefully on the little waveletsdown and out upon the bosom of the deep-blue min-iature ocean, it turned hither and thither with the

AND OMER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 265

capricious currents that played there, for perhapsfive minutes. I was just in the act of reeling upfor another cast, when a gleam of silvery lightflashed upon my vision, flecked with settings of jetand gold. There was a mighty commotion upon thesurface and a monster trout leaped full into the airas he seized the feathered bait and then shot down,down into the crystal fluid, leaving the water in thevicinity of his exploit bubbling, effervescing, andsparkling like the rarest old champagne. For thenonce I was paralyzed with the suddenness andviciousness of his coming and going, and my reelwas singing merrily when I awoke to a realizationof what it all meant.

Then I thumbed the cylinder and checked him inhis wild flight, but he continued to fight his wayclear down to the lower end of the pool, a distanceof twenty yards. Then he turned and came towardme with the speed of an arrow, but the automaticreel took up the slack as rapidly as he gave it.When within twenty feet of me he turned out intothe stream, and as I checked him he again vaultedinto the air and the sun-light glistened on his beauti-fully-colored sides and fins as he struggled to freehimself. Finding this impossible he started for thebar, where brush and roots projected into thewater; but by a vigorous and fortunate sweep Of therod I was enabled to check him again. Again hesounded and again rushed up, down, and out into theriver, but the steel was securely set, and he wascompelled at last to succumb. Gradually I reeledhim in, and as I brought him up to the bank heturned on his side exhausted. He weighed two and

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three-quarter pounds and measured seventeen inchesin length.

I took two others, nearly as large, out of the samehole, and then proceeding down fifty yards, I sawa large cottonwood tree lying in the middle of thestream where it had lodged and been securelyanchored, probably a year or two before. The cur-rent had scooped out a great cavity about its rootsand I felt sure there must be a giant old trout lyingamongst them, but I could not reach it with a castfrom the shore. To attempt to wade to it I sawwould be hazardous, for the channel between me andit was waist deep and ran with all the velocity of amill tail. But what danger will not an enthusiasticangler brave when in pursuit of a trout? I startedin, and when half way to the trunk, would gladlyhave retreated, but was actually afraid to attemptto turn in the midst of this current, so I pressed for-ward, finally reached the trunk of the tree andclimbed upon it. I made a cast up near the rootand hooked a handsome fellow, but after playinghim. until I liad him completely under control andalmost ready to land, the hook, which had been butslightly caught, tore out and he drifted down theriver on his side.

Another effort secured a two-pounder, and failingto get any further encouragement, I climbed into theicy torrent and with great difficulty again reachedthe shore.

A little further down I saw another very deep pool,into which a small, green cottonwood tree had latelyfallen and hung by its roots to the bank. I felt sureof making a good catch here, for the hole was ten


or twelve feet deep, and the driftwood that hadlodged about this tree afforded excellent cover forthe wary old fellows that always seek such secludedand impregnable strongholds. The fly settled grace-fully on the surface at the upper end of the pool, andas it floated listlessly down toward the drift, 'West-brook, who had come down and was fishing from thebank opposite, said:

" You'll get a good one there, sir. That's asplendid hole for a big old fellow."

"I think so; but he seems backward about comingforward."

" Maybe that blasted bird has scared him,"said he, referring to a coot that floated uncon-cernedly and even impudently about the pool,eyeing us without a symptom of fear, but evinc-ing the liveliest curiosity as to who and what wewere.

I reeled up and made another cast farther out onthe pool. As the fly fell, Mrs. Coot swam up to itas if inclined to pick it up. I almost hoped shewbuld, for I should really have enjoyed yanking hera few times. But she thought better of it, andturned away. After exhausting all my ingenuityon this pool, and finding it impossible to induce arise, I laid down my rod, picked up a rock, andthrew it at the ill-omened bird, whom I blamed formy lack of success.

Westbrook took his cue from this and also sent arock after her. Both made close calls for her, butshe only scurried about the livelier, making no effortto get away. She, however, swam behind a projec-tion in the bank, so that I could not see her, and I


told Westbrook to continue the attack and driveher out.

He picked up another bowlder as large as a leaguebaseball and hurled it at her, when the dullest andmost " thudful " sound I ever heard, accompaniedby a faint squawk, came from behind the bank.

Well, bleach my bones if I haven' t killed her!"said Westbrook, as he threw down his hat andjumped on it.

Sure enough, he had made a bull's-eye, and a massof feathers floated off downstream, followed by themortal remains of the deceased. And now the troutwere jumping at these stray feathers, and returningto the siege, we each caught a good one at the lowerend of the pool.

We had now about as many fish as we cared tocarry to camp, and started back up river. On ourway we met Lieutenant Thompson, of the ThirdInfantry--also a member of our partywho liadleft camp about the same time we did, and westopped and watched him fish awhile. The lieuten-ant is a veteran fly-fisherman, and it is a pleasureto see him wield his graceful little split bamboo rod,and handle the large vigorous trout found in thisstream. I had my camera with me and exposed aplate on him in the act of playing a two-pounderwhile holding a string of six others in his left hand,and though I did not give it quite enough time, itturned out fairly well. He had also filled his crees,and on our return to camp we hung our total catch,with severas others that G-eneral Marcy had taken,on a pair of elk horns and got a good negative ofthe whole outfit.


Trout grow to prodigious sizes in the Bitter Root,as well as in severas other streams in Montana,Wyoming, Idaho, and Washington Territory. TheIndians frequently spear them through the ice, ortake them in nets, some of these weighing ten totwelve pounds each. But these large Sones rarelyrise to the fly. However, Colonel Gibson, of theU. S. A., commanding at Fort Missoula, took oneon a fly that weighed nine pounds and two ounces,and other instances have been recorded in whichthey have been taken by this method nearly- as large.They have frequently been taken on live bait, andhave been known to attack a small trout that hadbeen hooked on a fly, before he could be landed.

While I was hunting in the Bitter Root 1VIount-ains in the fall of '83, a carpenter, who was buildinga bridge across the Bitter Root, near Corvallis, con-ceived the idea of fishing for trout with a set hook.He rigged a heavy hook and line, baiting with a liveminnow, tied it to a willow that overhung one of thedeep pools, and left it over night. By this meanshe secured three of these monster trout in a week,that weighed from nine to eleven and a half poundseach.

The supply of trout in the Bitter Root seemsto be ahnost unlimited, for it has been fishedextensively for ten years past, and yet a man maycatch twenty-five to fifty pounds a day any timeduring the season, and is almost sure to do so if heis at all skillful or "lucky." I know a nativeBitter Rooter who, during the summer and fall of'84, fished for the market, and averaged thirtypounds a day all through the season, which he sold

ANI) OTIIER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 271

in Missoula at twenty-five cents a pound. Of course,the majority of the ranchmen along the stream dolittle or no fishing, but the officers and men at FortMissoula do an immense amount of it, as do the res-idents of the town of Missoula; and visiting sports-men from the East take out hundreds of poundsevery season. But the stream is so large and long,and its net-work of tributaries so vast, .and furnishsuch fine spawning and breeding grounds, that it issafe to say there will be trout here a century hence.The heathen Chinee has never been permitted toply his infamous dynamite cartridge here, or in anyof the streams of this vicinity, as he has long beendoing in Colorado, Nevada, and elsewhere, and thisfact alone vvould account for the unimpaired supplyin these streams.

The reproductive power of the mountain trout isequal to all the tax likely to be levied against ithere by legitimate sportsinen, and if dynamitingand netting are prohibited hereafter as heretofore,no fear need be felt as to the future supply.

The market fisherman of whom I spoke was afaithful devotee to the fly, and never would use anyother lure. A white or gray hackle was his favorite.He used a stiff, heavy pole, however, about ten feetlong, cut from the jungles that grow on the river bot-tom, and a heavy line, a foot sliorter, with double gutfor attaching the fly. He fished from the shore orwaded, as was necessary to reach the best water.He cast with both hands, and the instant the flytouched the water he would raise the tip so thatthe line would just clear, and then trail or skitterthe fly gently, but rapidly, toward him. Thus, the


line being taut, when the fish arose to the fly hewould simply hook himself. Then he was ignomin-iously " yanked," and either landed high and dryon mother earth or in the ranchman's gunny-sack.

Although devoid of sport and requiring little skill,it was the most effective method of filling a "bag"that I have ever seen practiced. I have seen himtake ten to twenty-five trout in an hour's fishingand not miss a single rise. I had this man with meon a hunting trip, and whenever we came withintwo miles of a trout stream our table was sure to besupplied with an abundance of fish.

I visited Fort Maginnis in September, 1883, andduring my stay, Capt. F. H. Hathaway kindlyinvited me to spend a day trouting with him on BigSpring creek, a beautiful stream that flows out ofthe Snowy Mountains about twenty-five miles fromthe post. We left the captain's quarters at noon,comfortably seated on his buckboard, while Sam,Fishel, and Dick Thomas rode their horses and drovea pack-mule, which carried a part of our provisions,the remainder being carried on the buckboard.

We covered the twenty-five miles by six o'clock,camping at the base of the Snowies, within two milesof the source of the creek, which source is a clusterof large cold springs. We pitched our tent on thebank of the creek, where it murmured sweet musicin its course over the rfigged bottom and lulled usinto quiet and refreshing sleep with its rhythmicalsounds. When we awoke the next morning thefoot-hills all about us glistened with frost, and thehigh peaks, three or four miles away, were draped


in a mantle of spotless white, which the storm-kinghad spread upon them a few days ago.

Notwithstanding the lateness of the season, a fewmusquitoes began to sing about our ears as sooii asthe sun came up. Fishel, who was full of drollgood nature, observed them.,

" Well, look here," he said, as he broke the ice inthe water pail and dipped out a basinful to wash in,"I'll be doggoned if here aint a lot of these measleymusquitoes buzzing around here with buffalo over-coats on."

The keen mountain air at this low temperature,and the grand scenery with which we were sur-rounded, combined to sharpen our appetites, andour breakfast beside a rousing eamp-fire vvas enjoyedas only a meal can be enjoyed amid such surround-ings. As soon as the sun had risen high enoughto banish the frost and warm the air slightly, thegrass all about us was set in motion by thousandsof grasshoppers who gamboled playfully, in order,apparently, to warm up their benumbed limbsand get an appetite for breakfast. All hands thenturned out and harvested a goodly supply of them,for we had been advised that the trout in that streamwould not take a fly so late in the season.

Then we proceeded to business: the captain and.Dick fishing up the stream and I down, while Samtook his rifle and went across the hills in search ofgame. The stream, where we started in, was notmore than three to four feet wide and two feet deepin the deepest holes, yet at the first cast I hooked atrout that after a few vigorous plunges took thebarb off my hook and departed. I put on a new

18

274 cfzufsui-Gs IN THE CASCADES

one and had better luck next time, for in anotherhole a few rods farther down I took one that weighefta pound. and a half.

In the meantime the captain shouted to me, anilooking up the stream I saw him displaying one ofabout the same size. We each followed our coursesand did not meet again for some hours, when thecaptain came down to see how I was getting on. Hehad eight and I had six, the average -weight ofwhich was over a pound each. He relieved me ofmy load and returned to camp, and from that timeon did but little fishing himself, preferring, inthe fullness of his generous nature, to devote themost of his time to accompanying me, showing-me the most favorable points, exulting in my suc-cess, and in every way possible promoting my com-fort. Whenever he left me for a short time he wouldsend one of his men to take my fish to camp, dressthem, and do anything and everything else possiblefor me.

I fished down the creek nearly two miles duringthe day, going over parts of the stream two or three.times, not ceasing from the fascinating sport longenough to even eat a lunch that I carried in mypocket. Nor did I turn my steps toward camp untilit becanie so dark that the fish would no longer rise.Then, when I started campward, I met Dick comingwith an extra sa.ddle horse which the captain hadkindly sent for me to ride.

After supper came the always charming socialintercourse around the camp-fire, the exchange ofpersonal notes ,of the day's sportthe experiencemeeting, so to speak. No one had misgivings to.

AND OTII ER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 275

record so far as the fishing was concerned. Each hadenjoyed his full measure of the grand sport, as wasevidenced by the display of the severas strings ofsalmon-colored beauties which hung around thecamp-fire. There was not a fingerling in the entirecatch. No one liad caught a trout during the dayof less than four ounces in weight, and very few ofthat size liad been taken. The majority of themranged between half a pound and two pounds, andthe numbers were only limited by the amount ofwork each liad done. My friends, being residentsand accustomed to this kind of sport wheneverthey choose to enjoy it, had not cared to fish allday, and consequently had not taken so many as I,but had taken all they wanted.

The only man in the party who had anything toregret in the day's experience was Sam. He hadstarted a large bull elk early in the morning andliad followed him severas miles, but had not beenable to get a favorable shot, though he had twicecaught sight of him. We all sympathized deeplywith him in his misfortune, for Sam is an expertshot with the rifle, and if he had ever drawn a beadon the game we should have liad elk steak on ourtable at the next meas, sure.

We broke camp early the next morning and pre-pared to start for home, but decided to fish downthe creek till near noon before leaving it. We drovedown about a mile, when I alighted and started in,the others distributing themselves at other pointsalong the stream. The trout rose as rapidly andgamily as on the previous day, and I soon had aload in my creel that pulled down uncomfortably.


Among them was one old nine-spot which turned thescales at two and a quarter pounds after having beenout of the water over two hours. He measuredseventeen and a ha] f inches in length.

The captain told me of a certain deep bole wherehe said an old pioneer made his headquarters, whohad taken off two hooks and leaders for him on twodifferent days during the slimmer. When I reachedthe hole I recognized it in a moment by the captain'sdescription. It was in a short bend or angle of thecreek. On the opposite side from where I stood, andon the lower angle of the square, the channel hadcut a deep hole under an overhanging bank, whichwas covered with willows. These drooped over thewater and shaded it nicely. There was a slighteddy there and the surface of the water was fleckedwith bits of white foam which came from the rapidsjust above. What a paradise for a wary old trout !

I stopped about forty feet above the hole and puton one of the largest hoppers in my box; then Ireeled out ten or fifteen feet of line and cast intothe foot of the rapid. As the current straightenedout my line I reeled off more of it and still more untilit floated gently and gracefully down into the darkeddy, and when within two feet of the edge of thebank there was a whirl, a surge, a break in thewater, as if a full-grown beaver had been suddenlyfrightened from his sun bath on the surface and hadstarted for the bottom. I saw a long, broad gleamof silvery white, my line cut through the water, andthe old-thner started for his bed under the bank.

I struck at the proper instant, and, bending mylittle split bamboo almost double, brought him

AND °TITER MINTING ADVENTURES. 277

up with a short turn. He darted up the stream afew feet, and again turning square about started forhis den. I snubbed him again. This time he shotdown the creek, and, turning, made another divefor his hiding place. Again I gave him the butt,but this time he was determined to free himself,and with a frantic plunge he tore the hook from hismouth and disappeared in his dark retreat.

My heart sank vvithin me, when I realized thathe was gone. He was truly a monster, fully twofeet long, and I think would have weighed fourpounds or over. I reeled up and made two or threemore casts in the same hole. His mate, a com0y-looking fellow, but not nearly so large, came outonce and smelt of the bait but declined to take it.He had evidently seen enough to convince him thatit was not the kind of a dinner he was lookingfor. I fished down the creek for an hour and thenreturned and tried the old fellow again, but he hadnot yet forgotten his recent set-to with me, andrefused to come out. I presume he is still there,and will probably reign for some years to come,the terror of tackle owners, unless someone getsa hook firmly fastened in his jaw, and has tacklesufficiently derrick-like to land him; and whoeverthat lucky individual may be, I congratulate him inadvance. My tackle would have held him if I hadbeen fortunate enough to get the proper cinch onhim, and the only thing I have to regret in think-ing of the trip, is that I was not so fortunate.

We liad enough, however, without him. We tookhome forty-eight trout that weighed, when dressed,sixty pounds, and of all the many days I have spent

`278 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES

fishing in the many years long gone. I never enjoyedany more intensely, never had grander sport than inthese two days on Big Spring creek.

It has been stated that the mountain trout lacksthe game qualities of our Eastern brook trout. Ihave not found it so. They are quite as gamy, asvicious in their fighting, and as destructive to finetackle as the brook trout, the only perceptible dif-ference being that they do not fight so long. Theyyield, however, only after a stubborn resistance,sufficiently prolonged to challenge the admirationof any angler. I have caught a number of two andthree pounders that required very careful andpatient handling for twenty to thirty minutesbefore they could be brought to the landing net.

There are various other streams along the line ofthe Northern Pacific Railroad which afford almostequally as fine sport as the Bitter Root, and someof them that are even more picturesque and beauti-ful. In fact, nearly every stream reached by theroad, between Billings and Puget Sound, teems withthese graceful beauties. By leaving the road atalmost any point on the Rocky Mountain or Pendd'Orielle Divisions and pushing back into themountains twenty to one hundred miles, the enter-prising angler may find streams whose banks haveseldom been profaned by the foot of a white man;where an artificial fly has seldom or never fallenupon the sparkling blue waters, and yet where mill-ions of these beautiful creatures swarm, ready torush upon anything that reaches the surface oftheir element bearing the least resemblance to theirnatural food, with all the fearless enthusiasm of


untainted and unrestrained nature. In these wilderregions the tourist will also find frequent use 'for hisrifle, for elk, bear, deer, mountain sheep, and otherlarge game may yet be found in reasonable quan-tities in all such undisturbed fastnesses.

CHAPTER XXVII.

DEER HUNTING IN WISCONSIN.

RTHERN -WISCONSIN is one vast andalmost unbroken deer range. It is pen-etrated by several railroads, along theimmediate lines of which are a few smallrms and some fair-sized towns and villages;

but on going a few miles back from theseroads, in almost any direction, one passes,the confines of civilization and enters awilderness that is broken only by the nu-merous logging camps, and these as a rule.

are occupied only in winter. Thousands of acresof these pine lands have been chopped over,.and the öld slashings, having grown up to brush,brambles, and briars of various kinds, furnishexcellent cover and feeding grounds for Cervusvirg inictnus.

True, it is difficult to see the game at any greatdistance in these thickets, unless the hunter take hisstand on a high stump or log and wait until the deercome in sight. This is a favorite and very successfulmethod of hunting with many who know how tochoose location and time of day. But adjacent tothese slashings are usually large tracts of openwoods, frequently hardwood ridges, through which

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the game passes at intervals while moving from onefeeding ground to another. In such localities a deermay be seen at a considerable distance, and shotsare often taken at 150 to 200 yards.

I remember one of my first trips to these huntinggrounds, many years ago, before I knew how tosneak on the game, and before I had gained sufficientcontrol of my nerves to be able to stop a deer whilevaulting over a fallen tree trunk, turning suddenlyfrom left to right and vice versa, as a wary old buckwill frequently do when fleeing from a hunter. Istopped at a hotel in Merrill, on the 'WisconsinValley Division of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St.Paul Railway, and, having learned something ofthe nature of the surrounding country by a hastytramp in the afternoon, I got up the next morningand started at four o'clock to what seemed to be afavorable piece of ground. By daylight I was onthe margin of a large slash that, since being choppedoff, liad burned over and then grown up to brushand weeds. There were many blackened trunks oftrees lying everywhere, and some still standing thathad been scorched and roasted in the great conflagra-tion that had swept over the country, but had notbeen entirely consumed. These latter, stripped ofbark and limbs, looked like gloomy monumentsplaced there to mark the resting places of theirhapless fellows, and the whole aspect of the land-scape in the gray of dawn was weird and chilly inthe extreme. There was scarcely a breath of airstirring, and by listening intently I could hear therustling of dry lea-ves and the occasional snappingof twigs in various directions, that indicated the


near presence of the game and set my blood tinglingand my nerves twitching.

So soon as there was sufficient light to show thefront sight of my rifle against a gray stump fiftyyards away, I started to move, as cautiously as Iknew how, toward a clump of wild-cherry bushesthat I had seen moving and from which came slightbut suspicious sounds. When within thirty yardsof it I stepped on a stick that snapped, and simul-taneously with the sound a monster buck leapedhigh in the air, and landing twenty feet away,-uttered a shrill whistle and stopped, with his headthrown up, to try and locate the danger. I broughtmy rifle to my shoulder with a convulsive jerk,pointed it at him and fired without thinking of thesights, and of course scored an ignominious miss.

Well, I wish every friend I have on earth couldhave been there at that moment. That whole tractof country, as far as I could see, seemed alive withdeer. Thrash! Crash! Bumpety-bump! Phew!Phew!

There was jumping, thrashing through the brush,whistling, flipping and flapping of white flags, andthe air seemed full of glistening gray coats. Thebuck I had shot at sailed away, and was soon fol-lowed in his flight by a doe and two fawns. A doeand fawn went in another direction, three fawnsin another, two does and a buck in another, and soon ad infinitum.

I stood there, like a mile-post by the roadside,until they had all vanished, forgetting that I hadother cartridges in my belt. Finally I recoveredconsciousness and began to wonder where some of


those deer would stop. If I could only get anotherchance such as I liad on that buck, wouldn't I downhim in fine style? I would plant a bullet in thecenter of his shoulder next time sure. No dime-novel scout was ever more unerring in his aim thanI would be if I could only get another aim. Istarted on toward the top of a ridge, over which oneof the large bucks had disappeared, and on reachingit I saw him, or some other one, just behind an oakgrub on the opposite side-hill. I raised my rifle andtook careful aim this time, but was so nervous thatI could not hold the bead ón him, and when I pulledhe made another series of those daring leaps thatsoon carried him out of sight. I fired a second shotat him as he went, but with no better result thanthe first.

I now crossed over to the farther edge of the slash,and, seeing no more game, started through a body oflarge pines to an old burn that I had been told laya mile to the east. I was walking hurriedly throughthis green timber, nót expecting to see game, andstepped upon a large log, when a doe and two fawns,that had been lying down in the top of a fallen tree,jumped and ran across in front of me, offering anexcellent opportunity for a good shot to have killedall three of them. I slung lead.after them at a livelyrate, firing five or six shots before they got out ofsight, but did no further harm than to accidentallyclip an ear off one of the fawns close down to itshead.

After they we re gone I went and picked up thistrophy and stopped to meditate on my ill-luck, orwant of skill. I then remembered that though I had

284 CRUISINGS IN TIIE CASCADE'S

striven to hold the front sight on one or the otherof the deer at each shot after the first, I liad entirelyforgotten to look through the notch in the rearsight. Chagrined and mortified beyond all powerto describe, I trudged along and finally reached theburn I was in search of. The sun was now highin the heavens and shining brightly, so that thegame was no longer on foot, but had sought theseclusion of various bits of dense cover and laindown. My only chance for a shot was, therefore, inwalking them up, which I proceeded to do. Thebrash was dense all over this burn, so that I couldrarely see twenty yards in any direction, yet I hopedagainst hope for another chance. I was desperateo-ver the disgraceful failures I had made, and yet Iknew I could. shoot. I had killed quantities of smallgame with the same rifle I was then using and hadkilled one deer years ago with an old muzzle loader.I could always depend upon making a good fairscore at the target at 200 yards, or even longerranges, and yet I had shot away a dozen_ cartridgesthis morning at deer, some of which were standingwithin a few yards of me, and had not stopped oneof them. I was furious, and determined that thenext shot should tell.

I walked down an old logging-road severas hundredyards, hoping that some belated traveler might befound crossing or walking it it, but, failing in this,I turned out and walked along the crest of a ridge,looking down both sides of it. Struggling throughbriers and brush, making a good deal of noise, una-voidably, I still failed to jump a deer until I leftthe ridge and started toward a " draw" in which


was a small meadow or slough. When half waydown the hill I came to a large stump, about fourfeet high, from which a tree had been cut when thesnow was deep. I climbed upon this to take a lookat the surrounding country. As I did so, a largebuck that had been been lying just below it, sprangfrom his bed and bounded away through the brush,showing here and there a flash of lis white flag anda gleam of his majestic antlers, but not enough ofhis body to shoot at. I was perfectly cool now. Mynervousness had all disappeared. In short, I wasmad. I stood watching his course and awaitingdevelopments with all the confidence and coolnessof a veteran, instead of the no-vice I really was. Heran down the long hill, across the swale, and up thehill on the opposite side, and, on reaching the top ofit and coming out upon open ground, turned broad-side and stopped to look at me, doubtless deeminghimself perfectly safe at that great distance. Stand-ing erect on that high stump I was clear above thesurrounding underbrush and had a fine view of themagnificent quarry His head was thrown high upand well back; his ears erect, nostrils distended, andeven at that distance I imagined I could see thedefiant gleam of his jet black eye. His glossy coatglistened in the brilliant autumn sunlight, and hisspreading antlers and powerful muscular develop-ment characterized hm as a giant among his kind.As I raised my rifle slowly to my shoulder, I feltthat at last I had perfect control of my nerves andthat I was in some measure to redeem myself fromthe ignominy of past failures. I had elevated myrear sight for 250 yards, and as I looked through

286 CHITISINGS IN THE CASCADES

the delicate notch in it and saw the little goldenfront bead glimmer on the buck's shoulder, the muz-zle of the rifle was as steady and immovable as ifscrewed in a vice. There was no tremor, no vibra-tion now; and holding well up to the spine andshowing the full size of the bead, to allow for thedistance, I pressed the trigger.

At the report the deer bounded into the air as ifa dynamite cartridge had exploded under him, and,lowering his head to a line with his body, startedto ran. There was none of those lofty, airy leapsnow, no defiant waving to and fro of the white flag.That emblem was closely furled. His pride wasbroken and his sole object in life seemed to be.to getout of the country as soon as possible. The course_he had taken lay along the top of the ridge and Ihad a fine view of the run from start to finish. Heat once began to waver in his course, turning slightlyfrom left to right and from right to left. Hestumbled and staggered like a blind horse. He rancrashing and smashing into the dea,d top of a fallentree, breaking the dry limbs, some of them three orfour inches in diameter, as if they had been ryestraws. When he had gone as far into this labyrinthof branches as he could get, he sank to the ground_as if exhausted, but suddenly rose again, extricatedhimself by a few desperate struggles to the right,and sped on. He ran squarely against a good-sizedsapling with such force as to throw him prostrateupon his side. Still, his great vitality was not spent,and, struggling to his feet, he dashed on again.Next he ran against a log that lay up from theground some three feet and was set back upon his


haunches-. He quickly recovered, took it in good_shape, and now dashed into a clump of oak grubsthat still held their dry. leaves. Tearing and forcing'his way through these, lie forged ahead with all hisremaining strength and plunged headlong intoanother fallen tree-top. In this he strug,gled, tryingto force his way out until he sank upon the groundfrom sheer loss of blood and expired. From wherehe stood when I shot, to where he finally fell wasabout 300 yards.

I stepped the distanCe from where I stood to wherethe deer was when I fired and found it to be 267yards. Taking up his trail, I found the groundcopiouSly sprinkled with blood where he carne down.at- the end of his first jump, and the leaves and brushwere crimsoned with it from there to where he gav6up the struggle. On coming up to him I foundthat my bullet liad drifted slightly to the left, owingto the force of a strong wind which was blowing atthe time, and cut his throat almost as neatly as Icould have done it with my hunting-knife. Thecesophag,us was entirely severed and the thoraxnearly so. His body was sadly bruised and lacer-ated by the terrible ordeal through which he hadpassed, and I concluded that he must have gonestone blind when the bullet struck him. In no,other way can I account for his strange conduct. Isaved his head and had it mounted as a mementoof one of the most remarkable scratch shots I evermade.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THREE OF A KIND.

ARLY autumn's frosts had tinged thefoliage of the birch, maple, oak, and elm

trees, that intermingle in the greatpine forests, with a thousand richcolors and shades of gold, brown, olive,

pink, and crimson, while the pines, thehemlocks, the firs, and the cedars still

wore their dark mantels of perennial green,and all Nature was clad in her sweetest smiles.

A solitary woodpecker, perched on the topmostbranch of a dead giant of the forest, reaching outfar above the surrounding network of leafy branches,from which he might survey the surrounding coun-try, sounded his morning reveille and awaited thecoming of his mate. The dry leaves with whichmother earth was carpeted, rustled now and againto the bound of the saucy red squirrel, the dartinghither and thither of the shy wood-mouse, or thetread of the stupid, hall-witted porcupine. Thechill October wind soughed through the swayingtree-tops, laden with the rich ozone that gives life,health, and happiness to all animate beings that arepermitted to inhale it.

On such a morning, and amid such a scene ofnatural loveliness, I left the train at Junction City,

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on the Wisconsin Central Railway, started on athree-mile jaunt to a logging camp, for a day or twoon a deer roundup. I reached my destination at nineo'clock. The men had long since gone to their work,but the " boss" had returned to camp to attend tosome business in hand, and, welcoming me with thegenerous hospitality that is always shown by thesesturdy sons of the forest to strangers, bade me makemyself at home as long as I cared to stay. To myinquiry as to the presence of game in the vicinity,he said there was plent y of it, and that the men sawone or more deer nearly every day Mille going toor returning from their work, which was only amile away.

I lost no time in getting out and entering an oldslashing to the east of the camp where the foremansaid signs were plentiful. I had not gone morethan half a mile, when, turning to the left, on anold logging road, I saw severas fresh tracks of deerthat had been feeding there that morning. It wasnow eleven o'clock in the forenoon and I had nohope of finding the game on foot at that late hour,but depended entirely upon jumping a deer from itsbed and upon having to risk, in all probability, arunning shot. I moved very cautiously, however,and was on thequi vive for any straggler thatmight perchance be moving. Every foot of groundthat came within the scope of my vision was care-fully scanned and every sound or movement of leafor shrub, no matter how slight, received the mostcareful attention, during long and frequent pauses,before proceeding on my way.

I followed the road through various turns, along19

290 CRITISI1VGS IN THE CASCADES

the bed of a slight ravine, and as I rounded one ofits abrupt bends that gave me a view of a consider-able expanse of hill-side, I stopped again to recon-noitre. The ground was covered with a dense growthof weeds, raspberry briers, and wild-cherry bushes,that had sprung up since the timber had been_cut off, all of which had been stricken byrecent frosts, and dried by subsequent sun andwind, in these dry weeds I saw a slight movement,and on careful examination was able to distinguisha faint outline of a doe, standing partially behind alarge stump, a hundred yards away. Her head andshoulders were entirely hidden by the stump, andI liad to step back some distance before I could get.sight of a vital part to shoot at. As her shouldercame in view I knelt on my right knee, rested myleft elbow on my left knee, and, drawing a fine bead_on her shoulder, fired. She dropped in her tracks.My aim was a little higher than I intended, au.d thebullet, passing through her shoulder Nades high.up, severed the spine between them on its way,killing her as suddenly as if it had entered the-brain. At the report of the rifle a young buckbounded out of the brush near by and waved me .a_vaunting farewell as he disappeared over the ridge,not giving me even a fair running shot. I dressed,the doe and went back to camp for dinner, the.welcome notes of the huge old tin horn, floatingin musical cadence through the forest, summoningme at that moment to that much needed repast.

After dinner I went out on another old u.nusedlogging road, leading to the south, and, following ita few hundred yards, branched off to another which


led to the southwest. A number of fallen trees,lying across these, gave me frequent opportunitiesto mount their prostrate trunks and look over largetracts of surrounding country. In thus sauntering'and looking I had spent an hour or more when,on passing an unusually dense clump of tall dry weedsthat stood near the road, I was startled by a suddencrashing and rattling among them, and an instantlater two large does broke cover at the farther sideand started across a narrow open space. But beforethey reached the farther side of it, the voice of myWinchester express was reverberating among thelofty pines, and a cloud of smoke hung between meand where I liad last seen them. I sprang to one sideto avoid this, but they had both disappeared in thethicket, and I could still hear one of them craSh-ing away toward the green woods. I felt sure thatI liad hit the other, and, going to where I had lastseen her, I found blood, hair, a,nd several small bitsof flesh on the ground and the neighboring weeds.Following the trail a distance of fifty feet, I foundher lying dead with her throat cut, and, in fact, aconsiderable portion of it shot away. The expressbullet, driven by a heavy charge of powder, hassuch a high velocity that when it strikes flesh itinvariably makes a big hole in it. One hind leg wasalso broken squarely off at the knee and the boneprotruded through the skin'.

I stood pondering and puzzling over this strangephenomenon. How in the name of wonder couldone bullet break her hind leg and cut her throat?I stooped down and examined the wound. To mysurprise, I fòund that it had not been made with a


bullet at all. The joint was dislocated and the skintorn away until the disjointed member hung onlyby a narrow segment. Then the mystery wasdeeper than ever. What could possibly have causedthis violent and terrible wound? It liad been madeafter I shot, for at that time the agile creature wasbounding over logs and through clumps of brushwith all the grade and airiness of her sylph-likenature. I turned, took up her back track, and,following it thirty or forty feet, came to a fallentamarack sapling about six inches in diameter, thatlaid up about a foot from the ground. The trackshowed that the poor creature, in one of her franticleaps, just after being hit, came down with her forefeet on one side of this pote and her hind feet on theother; that one hind foot had slipped on the softearth and slid under the pote to her knee, and thatthe next bound had brought it up against the potein the form of a levermuch as a logger would placehis handspike under it in attempting to throw it outof his wayand the pote, being far too long andheavy to yield to her strength, the leg liad beensnapped short off.

I describe this incident merely as one of the manystrange and mysterious ones that come under theobservation of woodsmen, and not with any desire togive pain to sensitive and sympathetic readers.

The beautiful animal did not suffer long from thishurt, however, for she was dead when I reached her,within perhaps three or four minutes after I tiredthe fatal shot. I saved her head and had it mountedand it hangs beside that of the buck whose takingoff has been described and -whose throat was aso


neatly severed by the bullet. They were two remark-able shots.

After dressing this deer I returned to the old burnin which I had killed the doe in the morning, andtook a stand on a high, flat-top stump, which com-manded a good view of a large tract of surroundingcountry. I felt certain that the young buck thatwas with her when I killed her -vvould come backto-ward night to look up his companion, for he prob-ably did not realize that she was dead. I stood-within thirty yards of her carcass and for an hourkept a closeftwatch in every direction, turning slowlyfrom one position to another, so that any game thatcame in sight could not detect the movement andwould, if seeing me at all, consider me one of thenumerous old higitstumps with which the landscapewas marked. Toward sundown a large, handsomebuck came out of the green woods half a mile away,walking deliberately toward me. I could see onlya proud head and spreadiug antlers, and an occa-sional glimpse of his silvery-gray back as he marchedwith stately but cautious tread through the dryweeds. He stopped frequently to look and listenfor danger, or the coy maidens of his kind, of whomhe was in search. Oh, how I longed for a shot athim! With bated breath and throbbing heart Iwatched his slow progress across the open country.But, alas! the -wind (what little there was) was-wrong. When within about 200 yards of me hescented me and bounded squarely sidewise asthough a rattlesnake had bitten him, uttering at the'same time one of those peculiarly thrilling whistlesthat might have been heard in the stillness of the


evening a mile or more. He struck a picturesqueattitude and scanned the country in every direction,trying to locate the clanger but could not. After afew seconds he made another high bound, stopped,and whistled again. I stood perfectly still, and hecould make nothing animate out of the inanimateobjects about him. He leaped hither and thither,'snorted, whistled, and sniffed the air as we have seena wild colt do when liberated in a pasture field afterlong confinement in his stall.

Although still unable to satisfy himself as to thewhereabouts of his foe, he finally seemed to decidethat that was not a healthy neighborhood for him,and, taking his back trail, started to get out ofit by a series of twenty-foot leaps. I was temptedto hazard a shot at him, but could see such a smallportion of his body when standing that the chanceswere against making a hit. Besides, as alreadystated, I felt sure of a shot at shorter range bykeeping still. I watched and listened closely inevery direction. The sun had gone down. Nightwas silently wrapping her somber mantle over thevast wilderness, and the only sounds that broke theoppressive stillness were the occasional croakings ofthe raven as he winged his stately flight to hisrookery, and the low, solemn sighing of the autumnbreezes through the pine tops. I was benumbedwith cold, and was tempted to desert my post andmake a run for camp. I raised my rifle to myshoulder to see if I could yet see the sights, forstars were beginning to §parkle in the firmanent.Yes; the little gold bead at the muzzle still gleamedin the twilight, with all the brilliancy of one of the


lamps of heaven. I turned to take a last look inthe direction of the carcass of my morning's kill,andimagine my astonishment if you cantherestood the young buck, licking the body of his fallenmate! How he ever got there through all thosebrush and weeds without my hearing or seeing himwill always remain a profound mystery to me. But aball from my express entering his shoulder and pass-ing out at his flank laid him dead by the side of hiscompanion, and completed the best score I evermade on deerthree in one dayand I had fired butthree shots in all.

CFIAPTER XXIX.

George T. Pease lives in a log shanty, inthe heart of the great Wisconsin pine

woods, five miles West of Wausankee(station, on the Milwaukee & NorthernRail road. A beautiful little lake stretchesout in front of his door, in which numer-ous black bass make their home, and

several brooks meander through the wil-derness not far away, all of which abound

in the sprightly, sparkling brook trout. DeerI roam over the hills far and near, and when

the first "tracking snow" comes, in the van of icywinter, their hoof-prints may be found within ahundred yards of the cabin any. morning. Pease isa genial, kind-hearted old man, in whose humblequarters the true sportsman is always welcome.Reared in these woods, and bred in the pure atmos-phere that abounds here, a hunter by trade andfrom necessity, he is a simple, honest child of nature.With the exception of four or five years spent inthe service of his Country, during the war of theRebellion, he has lived and hunted in this regionsince the days of his boyhood, and his gmy hairsbespeak for him the respect men always feel for thehonest old woodsman.

I spent several clays hunting with him in Novem-ver, 1885, and the intervening nightsor a large

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R.

AND OTHER HTTNTING ADVENTURES. 297

portion of eachin talking with him. I learned inthat short time to esteem and value him as one ofthe best guides and hunters I ever knew, and one ofthe truest friends I have. Although he has beenhunting so many years and has always been a closeobserver of the habits of game; although thoroughlyposted on woodcraft in all its details, he is notegotistical as are so many old woodsinen. He neverintrudes his opinions on any subject unless askedfor them; never dictates what anyone under hisguidance shall do. He modestly suggests, and ifyou do not agree with him, defers cheerfully toyour judgment.

He is intelligent, well-informed generally, full ofinteresting reminiscences of his life in the wilder-ness, and relates many thrilling episodes in his expe-rience i a hunting deer, bear, wolves, etc. He told_me that once, when hunting on the Menominee river,he saw a doe lying down, and raised his rifle to shoother. But before firing he noticed that she had seenhim and was struggling to get up. As she did notsucceed in this, he concluded that she must havebeen wounded, and started toward her. She keptstruggling, but was unable to rise, and on going toher he found that she had lain down near a largehemlock root, that liad curved out of the ground,forming an arch or loop three or four inches high.One of her hind legs liad slipped under this root tothe knee, and when she had attempted to get up shehad probably been thrown violently on her side, dis-locating the hip joint and thus rendering it utterlyimpossible for her to draw the imprisoned leg fromunder the root. He said the poor creature had appar-

293 CILITISINGS IN THE CASCADES

,ently been in this pitiable plight severa' days; thatshe was starved and emaciated almost to a shadow,and had tramped and pawed a hole in the earth morethan a foot deep, over the entire space reached byher fore feet. Had she not been discovered, the poor.creature must soon have died from starvation. Asit was, she was so weak that when he released herleg from this strange trap she was unable to stand,-and he reluctantly killed her, as the speediest, mosthumane, and, in fact, the only means of ending hermisery.

I reached the old man's cabin at about noon. Wehunted diligently all the afternoon, and though wesaw plenty of fresh tracks everywhere in the newly-fallen snow, neither of us could get sight of a deer,and when we met at the shanty at dark andexchanged notes, Pease was sorely disappointed.The next forenoon was a repetition of this experi-ence, and when we met again at the cabin fordinner, both empty-handed, his disappointment wasintensified into despondency. We separated afterthe noon mea, and when we came in at night, Ilooked even more dejected and disgusted than ever,and asserted, with a good deal of emphasis, that Idid not believe the " blasted" country was any goodfor game; that I thought he or someone had huntedthe deer and shot at them until they were so wild thatno man could get within 500 yards of one. Heinsisted that such was not the case; that he hadbeen killing plenty of deer that fall, and that othersliad killed a few in the neighborhood, but notenough to spoil the hunting, as I claimed. Ile said


our want of success utterly astonished him; that hewas truly sorry; that he could nOt account for it,and that we should surely make a killing on themorrow.

" Have you seen any fresh tracks to-day?" I asked."Oh, yes, plenty of them; haven't you?"" Well, yes, two or three; but I think ihe deer

that made them were ten miles away when I gotthere."

" Why," said he, " when I started out this after-noon I skirted along that big swamp, where youhunted in the morning, and I saw whore four deerhad crossed your track since you went along. Oneof them was an awful big buck. I took up his trailand followed it in hopes of overtaking him and get-ting a shot. He roamed and circled around amongthe hills and through the swamps for, I reckon,more than five miles. I walked just as still as I pos-sibly could, for I knew we were mighty nigh out ofmeat, and I am gettin' mighty tired of bacon any--how. But somehow that buck heard me or smeltme, or something, and the first and last I saw of himwas just one flip of his tail as he went over a ridgea,bout three hundred yards away. I sat down on a logand waited and studied a long time what to do orwhere to go next; and finally I concluded I'd justcome in and get supper ready by the time you gothere. Set up, sir, and have a cup of coffee and someof these baked potatoes and Some of this bacon. Itain't much of a supper, but maybe we'll feel a littlebetter after we eat it, anyway."

I surrounded one side of the rough pine tablesuddenly, and when I got my mouth so full I couldn' t


talk plain, I said, in a careless, uninterested sort ofa way:

"I saw -where you sat down on that log."" Did you?""Yes; I sat down and rested there, too. I was

just about as tired and as disgusted and as mad as Iam now; but after sitting there ten or fifteen minutes,I trudged along through that maple thicket justbelow there, and when I got through it I saw a bigbuck smelling along on a doe's track, up on the side-hill, and I killed him and then started on after thedoe, and

Pease had dropped his knife and fork and waslooking at me with his mouth half open and his eyeshalf shut.

" What did you say?" he inquired in a dazed, half-whispered tone.

"I say I killed the buck and then started ,

" You killed a buck?"44-yes:,

" When?" he gasped, with his mouth and eyes alittle wider open.

" This afternoon," said I, calmly and complacently." Where?"" Why just below that thicket; just below where

you sat down on the log."The old man sat and gazed at me for two or three

minutes while I continued to eat as if nothingunusual had happened.,

"Are you joking?" he said at last."No; I'm telling you the straight truth. The

liver and heart are hanging out there on the cornerof the cabin; go out and look at them."

AND OTIIER HUNTING ADVENT1URES. 301

" Well, I'll be dad blasted!" shouted the old man,as he jumped up and grasped me by the hand." Why on earth didn't you say so when you firstcame in? What did you want to deceive me for?Why did you want to do all that kicking about thehunting being so poor?"

"Oh, I just wanted to have a little fun withyou."

Throughout that evening Pease was one of thehappiest men I ever saw. He seemed, and, in fact,said he was, twice as proud to have me, his guest,kill a deer as he would have been to have killed ithimself.

He chatted cheerfully until eleven o'clock beforeshowing any signs of sleepiness. This was about aUthe game I cared to kill, so I asked Pease to go intothe station and get a team to come out and take mymeat in. In order to pass the forenoon pleasantly,I took my rifle and started into the woods again. Iwent at once to the buck I had killed, reaching thecarcass shortly after sunrise. I cut down a jackpine, and, trimming off the boughs, made a bed.Then I laid down, took out a book and commencedto read, while waiting for the team and for any deerthat might happen along.

But I had not read half a dozen lines when Iheard a slight rustling and cracking in the frozensnow, and, looking in the direction of the noise, Isaw a young spike buck walking slowly and deliber-ately down the hill not a hundred yards away. Icaught up my express and made a snap shot at him,but in my haste and surprise missed him clear.At the report he stopped, threw up his head and

302 CRITISENGS .IIN- THE CASCADES

presented a beautiful picture, as well as a fair, easytarget.

" Now, my lad," I said to myself, " you are mymeat sure."

I was so confident of success this time that Iscarcely took any aim at all. Again I scored aninglorious miss and the deer started away on a seriesof long, high bounds. I threw in another cartridge,held ahead of him, and as he struck the ground thesecond time I pulled for the third time. Then therewas a circus of a kind that a hunter rarely sees.The buck fell to bucking, bleating, and kicking.His hind feet would go into the air like a couple ofarrows and with such force that they would snaplike a whip cracker. Then he would rear on his hindfeet and paw the air; then jump sidewise and back-ward. He threw himself twice in his gyrations, andeach time was on his feet agaia almost before Icould realize that he had gone down. This gym-nastic exhibition lasted perhaps two or threeminutes, during which time I was so paralyzed withlaughter that I could not have shot within six feetof him if I had tried. Besides, I wanted to see theperformance out. Finally the bucker recovered hiswits and skipped out. I follovved and found thathe was discharging blood at such a rate that hecould not go far. He went into a large thicket. Ijumped him three times before I could get a fair shotat him, and could hear him wheeze every time I camenear him. Finally I saw him lying a few yardsaway, but his head was still up and I sent a bulletthrough his neck. On examination I found thatmy first shot liad cut the point of his breastbone

off and had ruptured both his oesophagus and trachea.I dragged him out and laid him by the side of thebig buck, and when Pease came in with the teaman hour later he said :

" Well, I'll be dad blasted if he hain' t got anotherone."

I shall always remember that hunt as one of thepleasantest of my life, considering the length oftime it occupied.

AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 3ua

CHAPTER XXX.

COWBOY LIFE.

HE workings of the law of evolutionare plainly discernible in thedevelopment of the "cowboy," acertain prominent and now well-defined character of the far West-

. one that was made necessary by,and has grown out of, the vast cattle interests

which have, in the past two or three decades, spreadover that mystic region. His counterpart is scarcelyto be found anywhere else in the civilized world, forthe very good reason that such a species of man-hood is not required anywhere else. True, cattle-raising is carried on extensively in many States ofour Union and in various other countries, butnowhere under the same conditions and on thesame plan as in the West; hence, though herders,drovers, and the like are employed elsewhere, thereis no locality in which a class of men endowed withsuch characteristics and requiring such peculiartastes and faculties are to be found as are combinedin the cowboy of our Western plains. The life heleads and the services he is required to perform callinto the business young men possessing tastes andtraits different from those of average human nature,and such as are not found in men following any other

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vocation, as a class. It is an occupation that entails,generally speaking, a life of isolation from society,and in many cases from civilization. It is one inwhich home comforts must be dispensed with; it isone requiring its devotees to live on plain food, inlog huts, and to sleep in blankets at best; it is onein which there is often intense hardship and suffer-ing, and which exposes its disciples to dangers ofvarious kinds.

When all these facts and peculiarities of thecalling are considered we must readily perceive thatmen of ordinary tastes and inclinations would notseek to engage in it. Cowboys are not " native andto the manor born." They do not follow in thefootsteps of their fathers as do young men on East-ern farms. The business is 3,-et too young in ourWestern Territories to have brought about this stateof affairs, though it will come to exist in future. Butat present cowboys are all exotics, transplanted fromEastern soil. Let us consider, then, what manner ofboy or young man would adopt such a calling.Certainly not he who considers a well-spread table,a cozy, cheerful room, a good soft fo;ed, and neat,tasty clothing essential to his health and happiness;nor he who is unwilling to se-ver his connectionwith the social circle or the family group; nor hewho must have his daily paper, his comfortableoffice chair and desk; his telegraph and other com-mercial facilities and comforts; nor yet he who,when he travels, must needs ride in a comfortablecarriage on the highway, or a Pullman coach on therailway. But the young man who is willing toengage in the occupation of " rustling cattle "

20

306 CRIJISINGS IN THE CASCADES

on the plains, who is willing to assume the titleof "cowboy," must be he who, although he may'ove all these luxuries, and may perhaps have beenaccustomed to enjoy them, has in his nature enoughof romance, enough 'ove for outdoor life, enough'ove of sport, excitement, and adventure, enoughenthusiasm for the wild freedom of the frontier, tobe willing to deny himself all these luxuries andto allow such pleasures as the ranch and range canafford, to compensate for them. -

The 'ove of money can not enter largely into theconsideration of the question, for while the work isoften of the hardest kind a man can endure and thehours of labor only limited by the men's power ofendurance, the wages usually paid are low. From$25 to $35 a month is the average rate of wages forall good men on the range except the foreman, whocommands from $60 to $75 a month, according to hisability, the number of men he is to have charge of,and the responsibility of his position generally.Ambition to succeed to this dignity, or a desire tolearn the cattle-growing business with a view ofengaging in it on their own account, may inducesome boys to engage as herders, but the young manwho deliberately chooses this occupation is usuallyone with a superabundance of vim, energy, andenthusiasm; one who chafes under the restraints ofsociety, who is bored and annoyed by the quiet hum-drum life of the Eastern village, city, or farm house;one who longs to go where he can breathe fresh air,exercise his arms, legs, and lungs, if need be, withoutdisturbing the peace; one who, in short, requiresmore room to live in than his birthplace affords.


Many a cowboy of to-day was, in his childhoodor youth, the street gamin, the newsboy, the" hard nut " at school; the dare-devil of the ruraldistricts; the hero of daring exploits; the boy whodid wit fear to climb to the top of the highesttree to punch a squirrel out of his hole; who led theraid on an orchard or watermelon patch on a darknight; who at college was at the head of all wild,reckless frolics, and was also well up in his classes;who led the village marshal or the city policemanmany a wild-goose chase and caused them many asleepless night by his innocent though mischievouspranks. He is the boy who was always ready fora lark of any kind that could produce excitement,fun, or adventure without bringing serious harm toanyone. He was not the vicious, thieving, lying,sneaking boy, but the irrepressible, uncontrollable,wild, harum-scarum chap who led the gang; thechampion of the weak; the boy who would fight" at the drop of the hat" in defense of a friend ofhis own sex or of even a stranger of the oppositesex. These are the boys of ten, twenty, or thirtyyears ago whom to-day you may find riding wildcayuses on the cattle ranges of the boundlessplains.

As a class, they have been shamefully maligned.That there are bad, vicious characters amongst themcan not be denied, but that many of the murders,thefts, arsons, and other depredations which arecommitted in the frontier towns and charged tocowboys, are really committed by Indians, bummers,superannuated buffalo hunters, and other hangerson, who never do an honest day's work of any kind,


but who eke out a miserable, hall-starved existenceby gambling, stealing, poisoning wolves, etc., is afact well known to every close student of frontierlife. And yet, crimes and misdemeanors are occa-sionally committed by men who are, for the time

'qA)\11'.:.1-,t)11Mti\\.\/.

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,146" il'147))\\\Ir3

THE " WOOLLY COWBOY,"

being at least, regularly employed in riding therange. Fugitives from justice, thieves, cut-throats,and hoodlums of all classes from the large citieshave drifted West, and have sought employment onthe ranges because nothing better or more con-genial offered; but such are seldom employed,and if employed at all, are generally discharged assoon as their true character is learned and theirplaces can be filled by worthier men.

MID 0104, 1,, ?pr,0,,ri,

iFY/Q

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Neither do I wish to defend the " fresh " youngman from the East who goes West to " paralyze "the natives, who gets a job on the ranch, makesa break for " loud togs," arms, and knives, largenickel-plated spurs, raises a crop of long hair and" catches on " to all the bad language of the country,fills up on bad whisky at every opportunity andthen asserts that " he's a wolf, it's his night tohowl."

Nor do I wish to defend the swarthy, loud-oathed,heavily-armed " greaser " of Mexico and the Texanranges, who accounts himself a " cowboy " par excel-lence, but who much prefers the filthy atmosphereof the gambling den, or the variety dive of frontiertowns, to the pure air of the prairies. These are theexceptions, and fortunately are in a " distinguishedminority," and it is but just that all such swaggeringhumbugs should be loaded with the obloquy theydeserve, and should be appropriately branded, evenas their master' s beasts are branded, that all theworld might know them, wherever found, for theinfamous humbugs that they are. My purposehere is to champion the frank, honest, energetic,industrious young fellows who engage in this callingfrom pure motives, mogt of whom have fair educa-tions, and some of whom are graduates of Easterncollegeswho are brimful of pure horse-sense, andwho are ambitious to earn an honest living, and tomake themselves useful to their employers in everypossible way, aside from their ability to snare abullock. Many of these are Nature's noblemen,and their good qualities shine through their roughgarb, as the sunlight of heaven shines through a


rift in a dark cloud. Their hearts, thoutlh encasedin blue flannel or water-proof canvas, are as lightas the air they breathe; their minds as pure andclear as the mountain brooks from which they 'oveto drink; their whole natures as generous and liberalas the boundless meadows upon which their herdsgraze, and their hospitality only lhnited by thesupply of food and other comforts they have withwhich to entertain a visitor. Strangers are alwayswelcome at their shacks, and no matter at what timeof day or night you arrive, you and your horsesare promptly taken care of, y-ou are invited to stayand eat, to sleep if you will, and are promptly given tounderstand that the best the ranch affords is at yourcommand. I have known many of these men inti-mately, and have never known one who would notcheerfully share his last mane of food, his last dos-lar, or his only blanket with a needy stranger; orwho would not walk and allow an unfortunatelydismounted traveler to ride his horse half way tocamp, or the ranch, e-ven though that might be ahundred miles away. They invariably refuse allremuneration for services or accommodations of suchnature, and if it be pressed upon them, the stranger isliable to be told in language more expressive thanelegant they don't make their living by taking careof tenderfeet.

As a class, they are brimful and running over withwit, merriment, and good humor. They are alwaysready for any bit of innocent fun, but are not per-Petually spoiling for a fight, as has so often beensaid of them. They are at peace with all men, andwould not be otherwise from choice. As a rule, if a


man quarrel with one of them, he forces the war andis himself to blame. Their 'ove of fun often leadsto trouble, though generally because the victim ofit does not know how, or is not willing, to either" chip in" or excuse himself. They are fond of" piping off" anything that is particularly conspic-uous, or vice versa, no matter to whom it belongs,.and they dislike to see snobbish airs assumed intheir country, though such might pass current inany Eastern city.

I once saw a dude step out of a hotel in Cheyenne,wearing a silk hat, cut-away coat, lavender pants,high pressure collar, scarlet velvet scarf, patentleather shoes, etc. Several cowboys were ridingthrough the street and spied him.

" Say-, Dick," said one of theni, " what de ye.s'pose it is?"

" Let's tackle it and see," said Dick; " it looksalive."

" Pard, hadn't you better put them togs on ice?",queried another of the party. " They're liable to.spile in this climate."

The youth was highly offended, gave them ahaughty, withering look, and without deigning areply of any kind turned to walk back into the hotel.

"Let's brand it," said Dick, and as quick as aflash a lariat fell about the dude, closed round hisslender waist, and he was a prisoner. The boysgathered round hini, chaffed him good-naturedly,took his hat and rubbed the nap the wrong way, putsome alkali mud on his shoes, and then released him,bidding him " go in and put on some clothes." Alittle good-natured repartee on his part, or an invita-


tion to drink or smoke, or a pleasant reply of anykind, would have let him out without any unpleas-ant treatment; but he scorned them, and they con-sidered it a duty to society to post him on how to actwhen away from home.

A friend relates having seen an eccentric individ-ual, with a long plaid ulster, -walking along theprincipal street in Miles City, and as the sun cameout from behind a cloud and commenced to beamdown with a good deal of force, he raised a greenumbrella. A " cow puncher " rode up and, pointingat the umbrella, asked:

" What is she pard? Fetch her in and put a drinkin 'er."

The man was both scared and mad. He thoughthe had been insulted by one of those " notorious,ruffianly cowboys." He called " police." But thepolice was not at hand, and in the disturbance thatfollowed his umbrella was spirited away, he knewnot whither or by whom, and his plaid ulster wassomewhat damaged by contact with mother earth.All he would ha-ve had to do to preserve the peaceand his self-respect. would have been to answer thefellow good-naturedly in the first place, eitherdeclining or accepting his invitation, and he couldhave gone on his -way unmolested; but he broughta small-sized riot on himself by assuming a dignitythat was out of place in that country and under suchcircumstances.

In common with all other human beings, the cow-boy requires and must have amusement of sortiekind, and his isolated condition, depriving him ofthe privileges of theatres, parties, billiards, and


other varieties of amusement that young men in theStates usually indulge in; of the refining and restrain-ing influences of the female sex, it is but natural thathis exuberance of spirit should find sport of otherkinds. His only sources of amusement on the ranchare his rifle, revolver, bronco, lariat, and cards, andin course of time he tires of these and seeks a change.He goes to town and meets there some of his com.rades or acquaintances, and they indulge in somewild pranks, which to Eastern people, and especiallythose who happen to fall victims to their practicaljokes, appear ruffianly-. Their love of excitementand adventure sometimes gets the better of theirjudgment, and they carry their fun to excess. Theycorral the crew of a train which has stopped at thestation, :,nd amuse themselves and the passengers bymaking the conductor, brakeman, baggageman,engineer, and fireman dance a jig to the music of six-shooters. In one instance they boarded the trainand made.the Theo. Thomas orchestra (which hap-pened to be aboard) give them an extemporaneousconcert. They have even been known to carry theirrevels to a still worse stage than this, and to resortto acts of real abuse and injury against defenselesspeople. But such acts on the part of genuine cow-boys are rare. They are usually perpetrated by theclass, already mentioned, of " fresh " young chapsor objectional characters who drift into the businessfrom other than pure motives, and frequently bypretended cowboys who are not such in any sense ofthe term. But by whomsoever perpetrated, such actsare highly offensive to and vigorously condemnedby the respectable element in the business, both_


employers and employés. Much odium has attachedto the fraternity by such conduct, and much moreby reason of crimes committed by others andcharged to this class, so that the cowboy is inmuch worse repute among Eastern people than hewould be if better known by them. And notwith-standing all the hard things with which these menhave been charged, I had much rather take mychances, as to safety of life and personal property,in a country inhabited only by them than in any

ON THE TRAIL.

Eastern town or city with all their police "protec-tion." When sojourning in cattle countries, I haveleft. my camp day after day and night after night,with valuable property of various kinds lying in andabout it, without any attempt at concealment. Ihave left my horses and mules to graze, whollyunguarded, several days and nights together, andthough on my return I may have seen that my camphad been visited, probably by several men, not athing had been disturbed, except that perchancesome of them had been hungry and had eaten a meas


at my expense. It is the custom of the country toleave camps and cabins at any time, and for as long atime as necessary, without locking up or concealmentof any kind, and instances of stealing under suchcircumstances are almost unheard of, while he whowould leave personal property similarly exposedwithin the bounds of civilization would scarcely hopeto find it on his return.

An incident may serve to illustrate how suddenlyEastern people change their opinions of cowboyson close acquaintance. I was going west a fewyears since on the Northern Pacific Railroad, andstepping off the train at Dickinson, Dak., metIIoward Eaton, an old-time friend and fellow hunter,a typical cowboy, who has charge of a ranch anda large herd of cattle in the " Bad Lands" on theLittle Missouri river. He was dressed in the regu-lation costume of the craftcanvas pants and jacket,leather chaparejos, blue flannel shirt, and broad-brimmed white felt hat. His loins were girt aboutwith a well-filled cartridge-belt, from which hungthe six-shooter, which may almost be termed a badgeof the order. Large Mexican spurs rattled at hisheels as he walked. He liad ridden thirty-five milesunder the spur, arriving at the station just in timeto catch the train, and having no time to change hisapparel, even if he had wished I o do so. He wasgoing some distance on the same train, and I invitedhim into the sleeper. As he entered and walkeddown the aisle the passengers became suddenlyalarmed at the apparitionimagining that the trainhad been corraled by a party of the terrible cowboysof whom they had heard such blood,curdling tales,


and that this was a committee of one sent in toorder them to throw up their hands. They lookedanxiously and timidly from the windows for the restof the gang and listened for the popping of revolv-ers, but when I conducted him to our section andintroduced him to my wife they began to feel easier.He remarked casually that he was hungry. Wehad a well-filled lunch-basket with us, and, orderinga table placed in position, my wife hastily spread itscontents before him. He ate as only a cowboy caneat, especially after ha,ving lately ridden thirty-fivemiles in three hours. Our fellow passengers becameinterested spectators, and after our friend hadfinished his repast we introduced him to several ofthem. They were agreeably surprised to discover inconversation his polished manners, his fluent andwell-chosen language. His handsome though sun-burned face, and his kind, genial nature revealedthe fact that his rough garb encased the form of aneducated and cultured gentleman; and before wehad been an hour together they had learned torespect and admire the wild, picturesque characterwhom at first they had feared.

The skill which some of these men attain in theirprofession challenges the admiration of everyonewho is permitted to witness exhibitions of it. Asriders they can not be excelled in the world, and Ihave seen some of them perform feats of horseman-ship that were simply marvelous. A cowboy isrequired to ride anything that is given him and askno questions. A wild young bronco that has neverbeen touched by the hand of man is sometimesroped out of a herd and handed over to one of the


boys with instructions to " ride him." With theaid of a companion or two he saddles and mountshim, and the scene that ensues baffles description.A bucking cayuse must be seen under the saddle,under a limber cowboy, and on his native heath, inorder to be appreciated at his true worth. Hismovements are not always the samein fact, areextremely varied, and are doubtless intended tobe a series of surprises even to an old hand at thebusiness. The bronco is ingenioushe is a strategist.Sometimes the first break a " fresh" one makes is totry to get out of the country as fast as possible.If so, the rider allows him to go as far and as fastas he likes, for nothing will tame him quicker thanplenty of hard work. But he soon finds that he cannot get out from under his load in this way, andgenerally ieverses his tactics before going far. Some-times he stops suddenlyso suddenly as to throwan inexperienced rider a long ways in front of him.But a good cowboy, or "bronco buster," as he wouldbe termed while engaged in this branch of the busi-ness, is a good stayer and keeps his seat. The horsemay then try to jump out from under his rider-first forward then backward, or vice versa. Thenhe may spring suddenly sidewise, either to rightor left, or both. Then he may do some loftytumbling acts, alighting most always stiff-legged;sometimes with his front end the highest and some-times about level, but usually with his hinder partsmuch the highest and with his back arched likethat of a mad cat. He keeps his nose as closeto the ground as he can get it. Sometimes he willutter an unearthly squeal that makes one's blood


run cold, and will actually eat a few mouthfuls ofthe earth when he gets mad enough. Sometimeshe will throw himself in his struggles, and againas a last resort he will lie down and roll. Thismust free him for a moment, but the daring andagile rider is in the saddle again as soon as the beastis on his feet. Then the horse is likely to wheelsuddenly from side to side and to spin roundand round on his hind feet like a top ; to snortand bound. hither and thither like a rubber ball.During all this time the valiant rider sits in his .saddle, loose-jointed and limp as a piece of buckskin,his body swaying to and fro with the motions of hisstruggling steed like a leaf that is fanned by thesummer breeze. He holds a tight rein, keeping hishorse's head as high as possible, and plunges therowels into his flanks, first on one side and then onthe other, until frequently the ground is copiouslysprinkled with the blood of the fiery steed. Theduration of this scene is limited simply by thepowers of endurance of the horse, for in nearlyevery instance he will keep up his struggles untilhe sinks upon the ground exhausted, and, for thetime being at least, is subdued. Then he is forcedupon his feet again and may generally be ridden theremainder of that clay without further trouble.

He is awkward, of course, but rapidly learns theuse of bit and spur, and soon becomes useful. Manyof these -ponies, however, are never permanentlysubdued, and will " buck" every time they aremounted. Others will, all through life, start offquietly when first mounted, but suddenly take anotion to buck any time in the day. This class is


the most dangerous, for the best rider is liable to becaught at a disadvantage when off his guard andthrown, and many a poor cowboy has been crippledfor life, and many killed outright by these viciousbrutes.

I have seen " pilgrims" inveigled into riding" bucking cayuses," either for the sake of novelty,or because they wanted a mount and there was noother to be liad; but in every instance the trial ofskill between the man and the pony was of shortduration. For an instant there would be a confusedmass of horse, hat, coat-tails, boots, and man, flyingthrough the air. The horse, on his second upwardtrip would meet the man coming down on his first;the man would see whole constellations wholemilkyways of stars; the horse would 'meander offover the prairie free and untrameled, and as wewould gather up the deformed and disfigured remainsof the pilgrim and dig the alkali dirt out of hismouth, ears, and eyes, he would tell us, as soon ashe recovered sufficiently to be able to speak, that infuture he " had rather walk than ride."

But, fortunately for the poor cowboys, there aremany of these ponies who are not vicious, and let usdo full honor to the genuine, noble cow-horse whois so sure and fleet of foot that he will speedily puthis rider within roping distance of the wildest, swift-est, longest-horned Texan on the range. Such a horsealways knows when the nata falls right for head orheels, and if it does not will never slacken his speed,but keep right on until his rider can recover andthrow again. But when it does fall fair, he puts ittaut, wheels to right or left as directed by a gentle


pressure of his rider's knee, takes a turn on it orgives it slack as may be required to down the beef,and, when this is accomplished, stands stiff-legged,firm, and immovable as a rock, holding him downby the strain on the rope, and watching, with eyesbulged out and ears set forward like those of a jackrabbit, every struggle of the captive bullock, andstands pat even when his rider dismounts and leaveshim to brand the steer. When this is done, and his

"SNARED."

rider remounts he is ready to repeat the operationon another animal.

I have frequently known a cowboy to rope awild cow, throw her and milk her while his horseheld her down at the other end of a forty footrope. Such a horse is worth his weight in goldto a cattleman, and his kind-hearted and appreciativerider would go supperless to bed any night, if nec-essary, in order that his faithful steed should be wellled and made comfortable in every possible way.

The skill that some of these men attain in the usethe lariat is also most marvelous. An expert willcatch a steer by the horns, the neck, the right or

AND OTIFER HUNTING ADVENTURES, 321

left fore foot or hind foot, whichever he may choose--and while running at full speed--with almost uner-ring certainty. I have even seen them rope jackrabbits and coyotes after a long run, and there arewell authenticated instances on record of even bearsbeing choked to death by the fatal noose whenwielded by a daring " knight of the plains."

At a " tournament " in a Black Hills town somemonths ago, a cowboy caught, threw, and. securelytied a wild steer in fourteen minutes from the timehe was let out of the corral. A similar exhibitionof skill, but on a bronco instead of a steer, whichlately took place in a New Mexico town, is thusdescribed by an eye witness.

" After an hour of discussion and pleasant wran-gling, the judge, himself a fine rider, called out thename of an Arizona cowboy, a champion puncher-and rustler from Apache County ; at the samemoment, a wild-eyed bronco was released from thepen and went bounding and bucking over the min-iature plain. According to the rule, the ApacheCounty man had to saddle his own bronco, rope thefleeing horse, and tie him for branding in a certaintime. Being a " rustler," he rustled around solively that before the bronco was two hundred feetaway, he had saddled and bridled his own animal,swung himself onto it, and was off, gathering up hislariat as he went. The other bronco, seeing thecoming enemy, doubled his pace, dodging here andthere, but at every turn he was met by his pursuer,who was evidently directed by his rider's legs, andin an incredibly short space of time the fugitivewas overhauled; the rope whistled through the air,

21


and dropped quickly over the bronco' s head, notwith-standing the toss he had made. The instant it fell,the pursuing bronco rushed and headed off the other,winding the rope about his legs; then suddenly sit-ting back upon his haunches he waited, with earsback, for the shock. It came with a rush, and thelittle horse at the other end of the rope, as was theintention, went headlong onto the field, the cowboy' sbronco holding hin down by the continual strain_that he kept up. The moment the horse went downthe cowboy vaulted from the saddle, untying a ropefrom his waist as he ran, and was soon over theprostrate animal, lashing the hoofs with dextrousfingers, so that it could have been branded then andthere. This accomplished, up went his hands as asignal to the j udges, who now came galloping overthe field, a roar of cheers and yells greeting theApache County man, who had done the entire workin twelve minutes, thereby securing the prize ofsundry dollars."

These men use large, heavy, strongly-built saddles,and by setting the cinch up tight and taking a turn_or two of the rope around the saddle horn they willsnake a large animal, either dead or alive, anydesired distance. I once got one of them to drag alarge bear that we had killed out of a thicket intoan open space, so that we could photograph him.

Few men take more chances or endure more hard-ships than cowboys. In addition to the dangersthey have to contend with from riding vicious horsesand from riding into stampeding herds of wild cattle,in both of which lines of duty many of them arecrippled and some killed outright, it is frequently


necessary for them to lay out on the open prairie forseveras days and nights together, perhaps in cold,rough weather, with no other food or bedding thanthey can carry on their saddle.

The slang of the fraternity is highly amusing toa stranger. It is decidedly crisp, racy, and express-ive. Words are coined or adopted into their ver-nacular that will convey their meaning with thegreatest possible force and precision. In additionto the few illustrations already given in this sketchthere are many others that would be utterly unin-telligible to an Eastern man unless translated. Forinstance, when they brand an animal they put the" jimption " to him; when they want a hot drinkthey say " put some jimption in it " ; when theywarm up a horse with the spurs or quirt they "fan"him; when they throw lead from a six-shooter or aWinchester after a flying coyote they "fan" him.And " goose hair "ever sleep on goose hair? Thisis a favorite term for any kind of a " soft snap."When they want to ridicule a tenderfoot, and espe-cially one who is fond of good living, they say hewants a goose-hair bed to sleep on"; when a cow-boy is in luck he is described as having "a goose-hair pillar," or as " sleepin' with the boss," or as"ridin' ten horses," etc. Altogether, cowboys are awhole-souled, large-hearted, generous class of fel-lows, whom it is a genuine pleasure to ride, eat, andassociate with, and it is safe to say that nine-tenthsof the hard things that have been said of them havecome from men who never knew, intimately, a singleone of them.

I contend that a year spent on the hurricane deck

324 CRLTISINGS IN THE CASCADES

of a cow-pony is one of the most useful and valuablepieces of experience a young man can possibly havein fitting himself for business of almost any kind,and if I were educating a boy to fight the battles oflife, I should secure him such a situation as soonas through with his studies at school. A term ofservice on a frontier cattle-ranch will take the con-ceit out of any boy. lt will, at the same time, teachhim self-reliance; it will teach him to endure hard-ships and suffering; it will give him nerve andpluck; it will develop the latent energy in him to adegree that could not be accomplished by any otherapprenticeship or experience. I know of many of themost substantial and successful business men in theWestern towns and cities of to-day who served theirfirst years on the frontier as " cow punchers," and tothat school they owe the firmness of character andthe ability to surmount great obstacles that havemade their success in life possible.

I claim that the constant communion with Nature,the study of her broad, pure domains, the days andnights of lonely cruising and camping on the prairie,the uninterrupted communion with and study ofself which this occupation affords, tends to makeyoung men honest and noblemuch more so thanthe same men would be if deprived of these oppor-tunities, confined to the limits of our boasted " civ-ilization," and compelled to constantly breathe theair of adroitness, of strategy, of competition, ofsuspicion and crime. I claim that in many instances aman who is already dishonest and immoral may be,and I know that many have been made good and hon-est by freeing themselyes from the evil influences of


city life, and betaking themselves to a life on theplains; by living alone, or nearly so, and habituallycommuning with themselves, with Nature, and withNature's God. If every young man raised in townor city could have the advantages of a year or twoof constant study of Nature, untrammeled byany air of vice, and at the proper time in life, weshould have more honest men, and fewer defaulters,thieves, and criminals of every class.

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CHAPTER XXXI.

A MONTANA ROUNDUP.

SCRIPTIONS of cattle roundups in the farWest have been written, and yet many ofthe characteristic scenes that the spectatorat one of these semi-annual " beef-gatheringparties " will observe have not been de-scribed. There is so much to interest andexcite the denizen of the States who firstattends a roundup on the great plains that

I am tempted to speak of some of the more -promi-nent points in this " greatest show on earth," forthe benefit of such as have not had the pleasure ofwitnessing it.

The interests of cattlemen in general are soclosely linked, and there is such urgent need of aconcert of action among them, that in all Westerncattle-growing districts they have organized intolocal or general associations, in which the most per-fect harmony and good fellowship exists, and inwhich the interests of every individual member areclosely guarded and fostered by-the organization asa whole. These associations meet in the spring andfall of each year and fix the dates for holding theroundups, usually prescribing the general bound-aries in which each local outfit shall work. The springroundup, .which is the one now under considera-

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tion, is held in the latter part of April or early partof May in Wyoming and Montana, and earlier orlater in other States and Territories, according tothe nature of the climate, weather, etc. A roundupdistrict is usually limited to the valley of some largestream, or its boundaries are designated by other-prominent and well-known landmarks.

From five to fifteen miles, or even more, each wayfrom the ranch, are claimed by each owner or com-pany as a range, though no effort is made usuallyto keep the stock within these boundaries. Theyare allowed the freedom of the hills and table-lands,in every direction, the foreman merely beingrequired to know about where to find them whenwanted, and to prevent them from going, for instance,west of the Tongue and north of the Yellowstonerivers or south into Wyoming.

As a typical spring roundup, let us observe theone recently conducted on the Powder river in.Montana, for it furnished, perhaps, as many interest-ing episodes and incidents as are usually seen at oneof these entertainments. This stream rises in theBig Horn Mountains in Northern Wyoming andflows northeast through Southern Montana to theYellowstone, into which it empties its wealth ofcrystal fluid just east of Miles City. Up to a fewyears ago its valley and adjacent table-lands werepeopled only by roving bands of Sioux, Cheyenne,Pegan, or Crow Indians, while vast herds of buffa-loes and antelopes grazed upon its nutritious grasses.The lordly elk and the timid, agile deer roamed atwill through the groves of cottonwood and box-elderthat fringe its banks, and the howl of the coyote


made night musical to the ear of the savage in hiswigwam. But how changed the scene of to day!An iron railroad bridge, that of the great NorthernPacific, spans the stream near its mouth, over whichroll trains of palace coaches at short intervals, whilecommercial freights en route from the Atlantic tothe Pacific, or vice versa, pass over it almost everyhour. From the mouth of the stream to the foot-hills of the Mountain range, amid whose snow-capped peaks it rises, is now a well-beaten road overwhich supplies for the various ranches in the valleyare carried, and over which the gallant knights ofthe plainsthe cowboysdash to and fro in theperformance of their various duties.

At intervals of ten to fifteen miles along the val-ley, the traveler passes ranches, the headquartersof the wealthy cattlemen whose herds roam all overthe valleys, the hills, and table-lands for manymiles in every direction, designating the companiesor individual owners merely by the brands theirherds bear (which is the custom of the country).We shall encounter on our way the " MC " outfit,whose herd numbers fourteen thousand head; the"WL" brand; six thousand head; "70L," onethousand head; "S-I," twenty-five thousand head;"N," twenty-five thousand head; "a," thou-sand head; and many other smaller and some largerherds. The buildings and improvements consistgenerally of substantial, roomy log houses, stablesfor the horses, corrals or strong yards in whichlarge herds of cattle may be confined for branding,etc. The Montana Stock Growers' Association hasalso built public branding-pens at intervals of four


to six miles along the river. The owners of the-stock seldom live on the ranches themselves, manyof them being residents of Eastern cities, and othershaving their homes in the railroad towns withinconvenient distance of the ranches. The occupa,ntsof the " shack," as the ranch house is called, arethe foreman, the cook, and a sufficient number ofcowboys or herders to look after and handle thestock properly. Some of the choice bits of naturalmea,dow are fenced and hay cut on them, and eachranch has more or less hay land about the heads of,creeks on its range, for it is necessary to makehay enough each season to feed at least the calvesand some of the weaker cattle through the severeblizzards that so frequently occur in winter. The-cattle belonging to each of these ranches are allowedto range ahnost at will over the adjacent hills and-table-lands, though the limits proper of each rangeare supposed to extend ten to fifteen miles in eachdirection from the ranch house.

The Montana Stock Growers' Association, at itsmeeting in March, designated the seventh day ofMay as the day for beginning the roundup in thePowder river district this year, and selected a fore-man to take charge of it who had seen many yea,rsof service in the saddle, who has a happy faculty of,controlling the men under his charge perfectly, andyet of putting himself on free and friendly termswith them all. He can throw a nata with such pre-,cision as to take a steer by the head or by either foothe wishes in almost every instance, and beasts aswell as men soon learn to obey his wishes.

Anyone who has only seen the great plains late in


summer or in the autumn, after thegrass has becomesere and yellow and the foliage along the streamshas faded, can have little idea of the pristine beautypresented by such a valley as that of the Powderriver in early spring time, when the earth is carpetedwith verdure, the river banks lined with newly-clothed trees a,nd shrubs, and the meadows bloomingwith flowers, the beauty and brilliancy of whichcan not be excelled anywhere. The winter snowshave melted; the spring rains have come and gone,leaving the earth fresh and moist; the climateis mild and delightful. Under all these charmingconditions who would not enjoy the scene unfoldingbef ore our eyes as we mount our spirited broncos.and ride out to the place of rendezvous which hasbeen appointed near the mouth of the river, andwhere the clans are already gathering. Temporary.camps have been established by those who havearrived in advance of us, around which groups ofcowboys are lounging. A band of horses and ponieswhich they have liberated is contentedly grazing onthe river bank, and severas small bands of cattlemay be seen in various directions, most of themat considerable distances away, for they are wildand avoid the presence of human beings. A cloudof dust is faintly visible on top of the dividenearly three miles to the south. and on examiningit carefully with our glasses we find it is being raisedby a jolly band of five cowboys, who are riding likemad, each leading four or five horses. Looking aAvayto the north Ave see a mess-wagon, or ",chuck outfit,"approaching, drawn bylour horses, and from the slowand labored gait at which they toil along they doubt-


less bring abundant store of good things. Behindthis, two riders are driving tEn head of loose horses.And these small detachments continue to comefrom every point of the compass all the forenoon,until, when all the ranches in this roundup districthave furnished their levies, the force numbers onehundred and thirty-five men and about twelve hun-dred horses. Each rider has his " string " of horses,numbering from five to seven, and changes two orthree times a day, ri,ling one horse twenty to fortymiles, and sixty to seventy-five miles a day is con-sidered a fair day's work for a man. The reserveherd is placed in charge of a herder or wrangler,"who is required to keep them under perfect control,aud to be able to produce such of them as arewanted on short notice, the nata being frequentlyused in taking them out of the herd. The foremanhas arrived and takes charge of the entire outfit,placing it on a thoroughly effective and workingbasis for the morrow.

At 3.30 o'clock in the morning the men are called.They are out of their blankets and dressed in lesstime than it takes an Eastern man to rub his eyesand yawn ; each catches and saddles his horse ;

breakfast is hastily eaten, and at the first dawn ofday, they ride out in twos or fours in every direction.These men present a decidedly picturesque, not tosay brigandish, appearance as they dash out acrossthe prabie; their red, blue, and gray flannel shirts,canvas pants, leather chaparejos, broad sombreros,colored silk handkerchiefs knotted around theirnecks; well-filled cartridge-belts, from which hangtheir six-shooters ; their high-top cowhide boots


and large Mexican spurs, making up a tout ensemblethat a band of Texan rangers might envy. Theirwork, their fun, their excitement now begin, forsmall bunches of cattle are sighted in every direc-tion, which are to be rounded up and driven along,and there is no time to lose. As they dash hitherand thither after the fleeing, scurrying creatures,the proverbial good nature, high spirits, and enthu-siasm of these "knights of the plains " find vent ina series of hoots, yells, jokes, " ki-yis," bits ofsong, and grotesque slang expressions, many ofwhich are strikingly expressive when understood, butwhich would be utterly unintelligible to a fresh ten-derfoot. The majority of these Western cattle arealmost as wild as the native buffaloes whose placethey have usurped, having never been subjected tothe dominion of man, and rarely, in fact, have theyever -come face to face with him. At the firstapproach of the riders, therefore, they throw uptheir heads and tails, look wild, sniff the air, andthen turn and run like a herd of antelopes. Butby fast riding and skillful maneuvering they aresoon rounded up and herded. It is a bit of the truespice of life for these dare-devil riders to find avicious, rebellious, " alecky young critter who con-cludes that he won't be rounded up; and no sooner hasthe belligerent shaken his burly head, pawed theearth a few times, turned tail to his pursuers, brokenthrough the skirmish line and sailed away across theprairie, than three, four, or perhaps half a dozen cay-uses, who are also now in their elements, are headedfor him. Lariats are loosened from the saddle horn,spurs rattle as they pierce the flanks of the already


willing and eager steeds, and there ensues a wild,headlong, reckless race that can have but one result.The steer may be fleet of foot, and may lead, througha half-mile dash, but sooner or later is headed offand turned. He may make a fresh break in anotherdirection, but his pursuers are down on him againlike a pack of hungry wolves on a stray sheep. Andnow, as the riders close in on him, they belabor himunmercifully with their heavy coils of rope, or withrawhide " quirts " carried for this purpose. If par-ticularly wild, obstinate, or obstreperous, he stillkeeps breaking away, and refusing to come intocamp. A nata glistens in the sunlight, whistlesthrough the air and falls over his head. Anotherfollows and puts a foot in the stocks. Taking twoor three turns of the lariat around the horn of thesaddle, the men ride in opposite directions till theropes come taut, the steer is fairly lifted from theearth and falls with a dull and thudful sound thatmay be heard a hundred yards. Then another ropeis thrown over his head, the spurs are put to thefaithful ponies, they are transposed for the time intodraft horses, and the luckless victim is ignominiously" snaked " toward the herd, while the other boys" bang " him with coils of rope from behind. A fewyards of this mode of travel is usually- sufficient totame the wildest long-horn Texan on the range, an da few vigorous bellows soon announce an uncondi-tional surrender. The ropes are then taken off, heis let up, and it is short work to put him in the herd.

The valiant riders scour the country hither andthither, far and near, " gathering beef " from east,west, north, and south. Every hoof found, regard-


less of the brand it bears, or whether it bears any,picked up by this human cyclone and carried along.Toward noon the herds already gathered are driveninto the branding pens, where they are corraled.The calves are snatched out and the " jimptionsocked to 'em," as the boys express it. So with anyyearlings or older stock that have escaped the brand-ing-iron in former seasons. One or more irons foreach o wner are kept hot, and when a roper has" downed " an animal he or the foreman calls for theiron wanted, and setting his foot upon the victim'sneck places the red-hot device on its ribs, and throwshis weight upon it, leaving a deep, indelible, andtime-enduring trade-mark which even he who runsmay read. Its ears, dew lap, or the loose skin on itsjaw are then slit and it is turned loose again.

When a band is branded it is turned out; theparty who brought it in change horses, and awaythey go for another run. No special branders arenow provided, every man in the outfit, the cook andwrangler excepted, being required to " swaller dust "and " wrestle calves" in the pens. Near the middleof the day each squad comes in after finishing theircatch, make a run on the mess-wagons and devourthe substantial provender with which they areloaded, with appetites born only of the labor andexcitement in which they are engaged.

The afternoon is usually devoted to branding thelast bunches brought in, and to " cutting out," return-ing or throwing over such stock as does not belongto any of the ranchmen in this district. Strays arefrequently picked up whose brands show them to bea hundred miles or more from home. When a num-


ber of these are collected they are cut out and asquad of men drive them onto their proper ranges.This process is called " throwing over."

The cooks, teamsters, and wranglers usually movecamp up the river every morning to the next brand-ing-pen, or to some other spot designated by theforeman, to which rounders bring their cattle duringthe day. A portion of the stock collected, called the" cavoy," is carried along with the camp all the timeand herded by the " holders," but large numbersafter being branded are bunched and again thrownoff onto the range each day. Thus the outfit movesslowly up the stream, making a clean sweep of every-thing to the middle of the divides on the east andwest, until the Wyoming roundup on the samestream is met coming down. And now, having com-peted the work in hand, the outfit breaks up, andthe men return to the respective ranches on whichthey are employed or go to other roundups wheretheir services are needed.

The object of the fall roundup is to gatherin and cut out the fat steers and drive them tothe railroad stations for shipment to Easternmarkets. The work being almost entirely on adultanimal is even more laborious and hazardousthan that of the spring, where the majority ofanimals actually handled are calves. Hard riding,vigorous " cutting," and daring dashes into head-strong, panic-stricken, stampeding herds are neces-sary here, and roping and dragging out by mainstrength are hourly occurrences. Branding-ironsare also carried along, and any calves missed on thespring roundup, or dropped after it, are subjected to

AND OTIIER HUNTING ADVE.NTURES. 337

the fiery ordeal, just as their brothers and sisterswere at the Mayday party.

Stray cattle, either calves or adults, bearing nobrand and found alone or herded with others alreadybranded, but whose parentage can not be definitelydetermined, are called " Mavericks," and in somedistricts are sold at auction and the proceeds givento the school fund. In others, they become theproperty of the man or company upon whose rangethey are found. This privilege, however, is seri-ously abused by dishonest ranchmen and cattlethieves, who infest every Western cattle-growingdistrict. These men ride out over the ranges attimes when they are not likely to be observed, carry-ing their branding-irons along, and rope and brandevery animal they can find that does not alreadybear a brand. In some cases these are allowed toremain where found, for the time being, but areusually driven onto the range claimed by the piratewho does the work. In other instances, these menfirst drive the unbranded stock onto their ownranges, and then, under cover of the Maverick law,openly claim and brand it as their own. Manylarge herds have been accumulated almost whollyby this system of thievery, and there are wealthycattlemen in the West to-day who never bought orhonestly owned a dozen head of the thousands thatbear their brand. A certain cowboy, when asked byan Eastern man what constitutes a Maverick, replied:" It's a calf that you find and get your brand onbefore the owner finds it and gets his on."

But it is risky business, this cattle stealing, andmany a man who has been caught at it has been left

22


on the prairies as-food for the coyotes, or has orna-mented the nearest cottonwood tree until the mag-pies and bUtcher birds \have polished his bones.

Branding is a decidedly cruel proceeding, andwould doubtless come under the bane of Mr. Bergh'sdispleasure were he here)to witness it. Yet it seemsa necessary evil, there-eing no other known meansof marking cattle,s6'effectually and indelibly.

Parties of ladies frequently go out from the townsor cities to see:the roundup, not knowing or think-

'sing of the painful features of it. They enjoy theride across,he prairies and through the valleys. Thebeautiful scenery, the gròtesque " Bad Lands," thered, scoria-capped hills, the beautiful green meadows,and the fringes of green trees that mark the mean-derings of the streams', all delight and interestthem; they enjoy the displays of horsemanship givenby the valorous cowboys as they wheel and cavorthither and thither in -pursuit of scurrying bands ofcattle; they enjoy the stampeding and wild flight,the " knotting " and "holding" of the large herds,all so skillfully and cleverly performed; they enjoythe sight of the thousand and more loose horses;grazing and scampering over the plains; they enjoythe fresh, pure air, the wholesome noon repast inthe shade of the great cottonwood trees, and manyother pleasant phases of the affair. But when thefire is lit and the murderous irons inserted in it;when the captive creatures are dragged forth lowing,murmuring, and bellowing; when the red-hot iron ispressed into their quivering, smoking sides until theair is laden with the odor of burning hair and roast-ing flesh, and the poor ereatare writhes and strug-

AND OTHER MINTING ADVENTURES. 339

gles in its agony, the roundup is robbed of itsromance, and the ladies are ready to start for homeat once.

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