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O

CAMP-FIRES
OF A NATURALIST

THE STORY OF FOURTEEN EXPEDITIONS AFTER NORTH

AMERICAN MAMMALS, FROM THE FIELD NOTES OF

LEWIS LINDSAY DYCHE, A.M., M.S., l>ROFE.SSOR

OF ZOOLOGY AND CURATOR OF BIRDS

AND MAMMALS IN THE KANSAS

STATE UNIVERSITY

'''Wit'
CLARENCE E. EDWORDS

ILLUSTRATED

LONDON
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY

(LIMITED)
ST. dunstan's house, fettek lane, fleet street, E. C.

1893

fiUNTED IN America.

Copyrlfbl, IM*.
Br 0. Appl<lon ft Co.

WITH A DEEP 8KNSB OF GRATITUDE

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED

TO A

TRUE FRIKND, A CAREFUL CRITIC, AND A WISE COUNSELLOR,

CHARLES i3. GLEED,

WHO, BY WORD AND DEED, HAS HELPED THE WRITER OVER THE

ROUGH PLACES AND MADE SMOOTH HIS PATHWAY

IN PLACING THIS BOOK BEFORE THE PUBLIC.

•

PREFACE.

'UNTING-STORIES without exciting ad-
ventures and hairbreadth escapes find
little favour with the general public, but
those who have spent pleasant hours in
the woods know that such adventures are of rare

occurrence.

This book deals solely with facts. The adventures
of Professor Dyche while collecting specimens of the
larger mammals of North America are not of a thrill-
ing kind, but they give the life in the woods as it
really is. My story is taken from the note-books and
diaries of the professor, and not one word has been
added to the facts which he has noted, to make the
book more interesting or exciting.

I offer simply a description of the life of a latu-
ralist-hunter and of the pleasures of camp life, with
a naturalist's explanations of the habits of animals.

Clarence E. Edwords.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. PAQB

Nursed by a Squaw-Boyhood and Early Manhood-How
an Education was Obtained,

CHAPTER n.
Old Jim Leatherman'sLoad-The Storm-Some Experi-
ences with Snakes-About Antelope-Useless Tails and
Queer Horns-Fight with a Rattlesnake-How Dyche
Scared the Tramps out of Camp

CHAPTER in.
In New Mexico-Encounter with a Bear-Cold Hospital-
itv-The Retired Boston Merchant and his Mountain
Ranch-An Able Missouri Liar-The Mule that was
not a Mule-Seven Deer with Seven Shots, . . -si

CHAPTER IV.
In New Mexico-Hunting Bear-Once More at Harvey 's-
The Same Luck-Camp Boar Trail-Tlie Last Pot-Shot
-A Long Chase— In Ambush— Too Much of a Good
Thing-A Monarch Dethroned-What was Done with ^^
the lioyal Hide,

CHAPTER V.
Making a New Trail-The Storm on the Mountain-Top-
Neither Bear nor Elk-A Journey in Utter Darkness-
Catching Foxes-Unwelcome Visitors-Brown's Ava-
lanche-The Bear was Handicapped- An Experience

with Ants and Fleas,

vii

Vlll

CONTENTS.

rilAlTER VI.

PAOR

A Pt'culitir Woddiiifi-JotiriM'y— Field Tnxldprmy— ATyp-
Icul MouiitaiiH'cr— Big Ht'ur Tnlk— Tlie Cabin wjw
LtMited— A LoHt Tiinepioix'—A On'ut Day for Tulkiug, 70

CHAPTER VII.

Ill Indinn Tfrritory— A FiontiiT Fiddlor— Life ir. a Dug-
out— Wild TurkcyH, WildcatH, and otlit'i- Wild TIuukh
—Surviving a Blizzard— An Indian Dance — An Eni-
l)arr«ss<'d i'rofi'ssor— Siircessful Hunting— The Ex-
tiuction of the Wild Turkey 07

CHAPTER VIII.

In the CascadoB— Extermination of Many Sjiecies of Ani-
mals— Sonietlun;,' about the Koeky Mountain Gojit —
An Arduous Journey — The Cascades Reached —
Wholesale Hunters— In Cax\\\) — A Failure, . .118

CHAPTER IX.

Tlie First Big-Horn — IIow his Skin and Bones were Pro-
pared— Habits of the Rocky Mountain Sheep, . . 134

CHAPTER X.

End of Sheep-Hunting— How the Sentinel Fell at his Post
—A Peculiar Wound— Finding the Noon Hour by
Stars— How the Collection of Sheep was Completed, . 147

CHAPTER XL
On Kettle River- Okonagan Smith and his Lonely Ranch
—The Great Northern Boundarj'- Trials and Tribula-
tions—" Fool Hens "—Through Fallen Trees— An Ar-
duous Journey, 163

CHAPTER XII.
In the Cascades— A Forest Fire— After Rocky Mountain
Goats— The First Shot— Down the Mountain— A Suc-
cessful Hunter— A Night of Hardships— A Naturalist's
Ia,bour8 174

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER Xlir.

PAGE

A Peculiar Danger— Four Goats in Four Shots— A Rapidly
Disappearing Tribe— Description and Ilabita— A Per-
sistent Hunter, . » ^^^

CHAPTER XIV.
On Kettle Ri ver— Two M(m1«>' amp' 'ompanious— A Royal
Deer— Eating Beaver Tails— A Tra! pover the Moun-
tains— Wolves about the Cahim— Varieties of Deer, . 201

CHAPTER XV.
At the Lake of the Woods— After Jtoose— A Plague of Mos-
quitoes—Dark Swamps and Deep Rivers— Componsa-
tions, *

CHAPTER XVI.
In the Swamps— Habits of the Moose— The Moose-Call— On
the River— Good Shooting Secures a Group— The King
of Game Animals— The Naturalist nearly Killed, . 2o0

CHAPTER XVII.
With the Indians— How Indians Hunt Big Game— The
Parallel Trails— Indian Superstitions— A Potent Bev-
erage— Moose all " Nickoshin "—Return to Civilisa-
tion,

257

CHAPTER XVIII.
In Colorado— On the Trail of Elk— A Night in the Snow-
Deer, but no Elk— Another Wild-Goose Chase— The
World's Fai" King— The liast Hunt 27G

CHAT'TER XIX.
Results of the Camp-Fires— Tlie Specimens Obtained, . 300

fMema^itii

LIST OF ILLUSTKATIONS.

FACING
PAQB

The Rocky Mountain goat .... Frontispiece

A corner of the storeroom

5
A family group

A mule deer buck

As he appeared in the openmg

" They are sure good bear knives " "^ •

A group of Virginia deer

IIS

On guard no

Almost despairing

Off for a long tramp

213
Ready to go home

The monarch of the woods ""''

A mountain king "'

■Ml

^^^

u
o

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

CHAPTER I.

Nurse d by a Squaw — Boyhood and Early Manhood — How an
Education was Obtained.

jNE raw March evening, in the early days
of Kansas, a covered wagon drawn by
oxen stopped on the bank of the Wauka-
russa River. In the wagon lay a babe
close to the side of its mother, whose illness was so
severe that but little attention could be ]t:iid to the
child. The sturdy pioneer, who had left his Eastern
home to make a new one in the West, cheered his
wife with a word and placed the child on a bed of
grass before a bright fire. Near the spot selected for
the camp was the winter village of a band of Indians,
and the fire had been hardly started when a number of
the red men gathered around the wagon. The con-
dition of the sick mother appealed to the womanly in-
stincts of the squaws, and tender hands ministered to
her wants. The infant was taken from its improvised
bed, and soon was drawing a new life from a red
breast. For weeks the mother hovered between life
and death, and all the while the babe was cared for in
the village of the Indians. He thrived, and when the
1

2 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

mother was restored to health the baby boy was stroug

and lusty.

This babe was Lewis Lindsay Dyche and his life
almost began at a camp-fire. With the precocity
often seen in pioneer life he seemed to pass from in-
fancy to manhood with no intervening period of boy-
ishness or youth. All the pleasures of his tender
years were combined with business. At the age of
nine ho was hunting and trapping along the banks
of the Waukarussa. His playmates were his dogs ;
his playiaings were the beasts and birds; his play-
grounds were the woods and prairies and the camps
of the Indians. His hard lot and that of his father
and mother taught him the value of money. Work
was as natural to him as play to ordinary boys.
For a five-cent piece he would follow the horses of
the sorghum mill all day long, and this money would
be hoarded with that received for the furs obtained
during the winter's trapping and hunting.

All this time the alphabet was a mystery to
him, and while ho was in demand among tho
neighbors as a worker, he realized that to succeed in
life, even among frontiersmen, it was necessary for
him to have other learning than that rbtained ill
the woods. At tho age of sixteen he was tall and
well formed, with the habits and appearance of a
man. He had learned the rudiments of reading at
the age of twelve, but shame prevented the tall, raw-
boned boy from showing his ignorance in the village
school, and he advanced slowly in his learning. At
the age of sixteen he found that his hoarded money
had accumulated until he was tho possessor of $G0O.

OBTAINING AN EDUCATION.

With this ho determined to obtain an education, and
for three years he studied at the State Normal School
at Emporia, Kansas, preparing his mind to receive
that higher education which was gradually opened to
him. In order to husband his means, he rented a
small room and did his own cooking during the three
years. Mrs. A. P. Morse, an instructress in the
school, took a deep interest in the young man, and
gave him many valuable suggestions regarding his
mode of study, which helped him over the rough path-
ways until he was able to travel them alone.

In addition to the mild persuasiveness of Mrs.
Morse, there came a help of a different nature. Dr.
C. R. Pomeroy, that sturdy and resolute president of
the State Normal School whose strength of character
has impressed so many minds in the West, saw the
ambition of the diffident young backwoodsman, and
opened to his mental vision such vast fields of re-
search that ho breathed a new life into the veins of
the young man.

>.fter the three years at the normal school, he, with
one companion, went in a covered wagon to Lawrence,
where the Kansas State University is situated, and
there they camped in a sheltered vale just north of
the university buildings. At night they slept in their
wagon, and their meals were cooked at a camp-fire.
They camped here until the cold weather drove them
to warmer shelter, and then they rented a small room
in the city, and there did their own cooking for the
reiaainder of the year.

While the work at tho normal school had been hard
because it was strange, here it was hard because

'/f^ ."' V.J'^'-!^ '?**".'■' t.^';

4 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

it was made so by the enthusiast. Night and daj^ he
pored over his books, only leaving them when dragged
away by his fellow-students, who saw that ho was
breaking himself down by his close application. But
even his recreation was work. He wandered over
the fields and along the river, collecting insects for
Professor Snow, and became so expert that he was
afterward regularly employed by the professor to
assist him in making his collection. From this
source he obtained a considerable sum of money,
which went toward defraying his expenses.

The university was then in its infancy, and Dyche
saw that by properly combining his studies he could
master more than one course at a time, and to this
end he devoted himself. So well did he apply his
vigorous mind that at the end of five years he grad-
uated at the head of his class, obtaining two degrees.
Nor did he stop here, for when he was preparing for
new fields, Professor Snow offered him the position
of assistant in his department. Under the guidance
of the professor the j'oung man became invaluable to
the university, and the chair of anatomy and physi-
ology was created and given to Dyche. Later on the
branches of zoology, animal histology, the curator-
ship of birds and mammals, and the practical work
of taxidermy were placed under his direction and
guidance, with a corps of assistants.

The museum of the university, where stands the
fine-'t collection of mounted animals in the world, tells
how well he has done his duty, and to the story of
the incidents and adventures of the young man's life
while in search of these mammals the pages of this
book are devoted.

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CHAPTER II.

Old Jim Leatherman's Load — Tlie Storm — Some Experi-
ences with Snakes — About Antelope — Useless Tails and
Queer Horns — Fight with a Rattlesnake — How Dyche
bcaitid the Tramps out of Camp.

JT was a jolly quartette that rode in old Jim
Leatherman's wagon over the prairies of
western Kansas, on a hot July after-
noon, from Buffalo, a little shipping sta-
tion of the Union Pacific Railroad. A casual oh-
server would have taken the party for a lot of school-
boys out on a frolic, and he would not have been far
wrong. The two older boys were the joUiest of all.
The younger boys were not quite so demonstrative,
yet they, too, were full of animal life and were in-
spired by the invigorating air of the plains.

The old boys called each other Mudgo and Snow,
while the younger ones were known as Dyche and
Dick. At home Mudge and Snow were staid college
professors, and Dyche and Dick were students in the
institution. While in college circles decorum was
duly observed, hero on the prairies all four called each
other by the most convenient names, and while they
are removed from the college atmosphere these
names may be sufficient.

Old Jim Leatherman found his strange load in-
comprehensible. Mudge would suddenly break off

6 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

from his rhapsody on the possible skeleton of a
plesiosaurus that he expected to find, jump from the
wagon, and scurry over the prairie after Snow. Then
both would return, triumphant over the capture of
some inoffensive insect which the bright eyes of the
old boys had detected as they rode along.

The day thus passed was short to the travellers.
Many trophies of the " bug hunters" had been gathered
when the wagon halted by the side of a little stream
which wound across the barren plain . A lone cotton-
wood tree stood sentinel on the bank as a beacon
to the party, and Leatherman interrupted a scientific
discussion with the announcement :

"Here's the place and there's your firewood,"
pointing to the tree.

The tent was soon pitched, a blazing fire started, a
pan of bacon set to frying, and the camp life of the
naturalists was begun in earnest. Each had an as-
signed task. One got wood, one cooked, and the
others arranged the tent and camp-ground. The sun-
set presaged foul weather. The whole horizon was
banked with clouds. Snow and Dyche took up their
quarters in the tent, while Mudge, Dick, and Leather-
man spread their blankets on the sand at the foot of
the sentinel cottonwood. The four boys sank to
slumber, unmindful of the chorus of coyotes which
visited the spot to serenade the guests of the plains.

Deep sleep wrapped the camp in silence when the
promise given by the sky at sunset was fulfilled.
The sleepers outside were aroused by the advance
guard of the rain. In the west there arose a solid
wall of ebony. Deeper and deeper grew the black-

THE STORM.

ness which crept up, blotting out the sky. In the
middle was a surging, rolling, tumbling mass, from
the centre of which flashes of lightning shot forth.
The air, which all day and night had been hot almost
to suffocation, grew chill. A great calm filled the
whole breadth of the plain. A hush was on earth
and sky.

Then the appalling silence was broken. The huge
black wave was cut by the vivid lightning, and the
earth seemed shaken by the terrible battle of the ele-
ments. The muttering thunder increased in tone and
volume until all space was filled with the sound.
Bellowing, roaring, and crashing it came on, the
clouds covering the sky and casting a mantle of
blackness over the land that was only broken by the
constant flashing of the lightning. The storm burst
upon the camp, and with one mighty sweep almost
tore the tent from its fastenings. Snow caught one
end and Dyche the other, and throwing themselves
flat on the ground, they held the ck th close and
prevented the wind from getting under. The force
of the wind crushed the tent to the earth, broke
the poles, and threw the whole party flat. Then
the very flood-gates of heaven seemed to be opened,
and torrents of water came down. The tent was at
the foot of a knoll, and down this the water swept,
covering everything with drift, rubbish, and mud.
Dry ravines became torrents, and the heavens seemed
to send down rivers. For two long hours the storm
raged, and then the turmoil ceased.

Cold and wet, the jolly crowd of yesterday lay
almost perishing in the mud which flowed through

S CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

the crevices under the tent. Morning dawned at
last, and one by one the members of the party crawled
out. Dyche had suffered most, for he had lain
all night at the door of the tent with little cover-
ing, and the water and mud had poured over him,
chilling him to the bone. Never before had he felt
cold as he felt it then. Barely able to move, he got
out at dawn, started a fire, and finally succeeded in
rubbing sufficient vitality into his b( iimbed limbs to
be sure once more that life was pie mt.

It took but a short while for the camp equipment
to become dry in the sun, and by noon barely a sign
of the storm was to be seen on the surrounding
prairie. The remainder of this day and several days
thereafter were devoted to the search for fossils.
One very hot morning Snow said that he liesired cer-
tain specimens of the snake kind, and wanted the
boys to devote the day to collecting them.

Gathered around the camp-fire that night, all were
ready to tell of their adventures and show the tro-
phies of the chase. In handling a specimen of rattler
Snow was a little careless, and the reptile slipped its
head from his hand, fastening its fangs in his finger.
It was a small snake, but none the less dangerous.
A ligature was tied around the finger and the poison
sucked from the wound. After the excitement was
over the " game" was displayed. There were whip-
snakes, bull-snakes, hog-nosed snakes, rattlesnakes,
and racers. The oddest was the hog-nosed snake.
It has the appearance and shape of the rattler with-
out its fangs. Coiling up, it throws back its head
and opens its mouth so wide that its jaws are dislo-

SOME EXPERIENCES WITH SNAKES.

cated, the result being that it is compelled to go
around with the mouth wide open until the disloca-
tion iH reduced. If it bites it does no harm, for it has
neither fangs nor poison-bags.

"Did you over see a snake sunstruck?" Snow
asked, and all but Mudge thought ho was joking
and kept a discreet silence.

"I am not quizzing. It is an actual fact that
snakes cannot stand the heat of the sun on the sand.
Unless they get shelter during the middle of the day
they will die. If you will notice, all snakes are coiled
up at noon about the foot of a bush or are under
rocks. I got one big fellow to-day, a whip-snake. I
had him in my net, and laid him on the ground by
my side while I rested. In fifteen minutes he was
dead. He was sunstruck."

The campers were in need of fresh meat., and the
conversation gradually drifted to hunting. Antelope
had been seen every day, in groups of from five to
ten, but no attempt had been made to get one, as all
the time had been devoted to collecting insects and
fossils. The only fire-arm in the camp was an old
carbine belonging to Mudge, and it was apparently
in such a dilapidated condition that no one cared to
risk his reputation by attempting a shot with it.

" Antelope is the hardest thing on earth to get a
shot at, young feller," said one of a party of cowboys
that visited the camp, " and you'll find that they can
make out a hunter miles away. If there's only one
in the band, he'll always keep his eyes skinned for
something to get scared at."

This duly impressed the boys with the idea that an

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

antelope had almost supernatural powers, and that it
would be an extremely difficult feat to shoot one, es-
pecially with Mudge's carbine. Dyche, however, an-
nounced his intention of trying to get one, and for an
hour endured the gibes and jokes of the whole party.
He started early next morning, and late in the even-
ing, just as old Jim was beginning to prepare supper,
he returned carrying a fifty-pound load of antelope on
his back and dragging the old carbine after him.
He was tired, but after a good supper of antelope
steak was able to tell the story of the day's adven-
tures as they all sat around the camp-fire.

" I tried all the forenoon to crawl near enough to the
antelope to get a shot at them, but they always saw
me long enough beforehand to run a mile or two away
by the time I started to crawl to them. About one
o'clock, a band of seven came down a ravine and
went behind a knoll about three hundred vards from

where I was sitting. My shoes were off in an instant
and I made a rush to intercept the animals as they
rounded the knoll. I made a good race, but found
that the jarring of my feet on the ground had alarmed
the antelope, and I got to the mouth of the ravine
just in time to see the seven tawny-yellow creatures
racing away about one hundred and fifty yards off.
I sent two bullets after them, and in less time than it
takes to tell it, those animals were going over the top
of a hill fully half a mile away. They stopped on
the top of the hill for a few seconds, looking back and
evidently wondering what it was that was following
them. My blood was up now, and I determined to
follow Ihe band. I travelled two miles, and then saw

i*.a^-il^ifcAUl> Ji^. .<

ALL ABC jT antelope.

that it would be as profitable to follow the south
wind.

" I knew what would be my portion if I came back
to camp without meat, especially since my feet were
full of cactus thorns and had been cut and bruised
by the long tramp o^f r the sand and rocks. I limped
painfully back to T/here I had left my shoes. I went
stumbling along, jumping now and then at the sound
of a grasshopper, which suggested the wicked whir of
a rattler's tail. As I climbed over a knoll I saw an old
buck antelope standing near a dozen or more which
were lying sunning themselves. The band was on
the top of a hill, and the old fellow who was on guard
was standing where he could see the whole country
in every direction. I got within half a mile of the
antelope without being seen. Two or three members
of the band appeared to have their heads in the air
all the time. They were evidently guards, and the
safety of the band depended on their vigilance.

" Having had no experience as an antelope hunter, I
was puzzled. I did not know how to get near them.
Concluding that they were no harder to kill than the
animals I had hunted since boyhood, I began a care-
ful stalk. Crawling about four hundred yards up a
ravine, I reached a spot within five hundred yards of
the animals, unobserved. Now there was no ravine
in which to crawl, so I chose the best ground I could
find and began a snake-like movement up the slope.
I accepted anything for cover, ant-hills, bunches of
grass, cactus bushes, or even little ridges in the sand
made by the wind. In this way I made two hun-
dred yards in two hours, and had not been seen.

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

" Sometimes the antelope would come in such plain
sight that I was compelled to lie close to the ground
while they were looking my way. I got ahead at
the rate of about a foot a minute until I was within
two hundred and fifty yards of the old buck on the
hill. By lifting my head carefully I could get
glimpses of several others, but almost despaired of
getting closer, and had no faith in the old carbine
for such a long shot.

" While I Wv'is resting and getting possession of my
faculties, the animals moved a few yards to the south.
I saw, at the same time, that the ground was lower
to my left and was traversed by an old buffalo trail.
Moving sideways a few inches at a time and hug-
ging the ground desperately close, I succeeded in
getting to :he trail, which entirely hid me from the
animals. This was satisfactory to a hunter if noth-
ing more. After resting a few minutes I pulled,
dragged, and pushed myself along the trail fifty or
seventy five yards, and was now within t,vo hun-
dred yards of the band, and had neither been seen,
smeUed, nor heard. I lifted my head very slowly
and carefully some six inches, and could see, through
some bunches of grass which grew near my face, the
entire band of fifteen or twenty animals. I could
scarcely believe my eyes, but there they were in bold
relief against the sky — some lying down, others
standing at ease, and half a dozen or more fawns
running and playing like young colts.

"I became so interested in watching the move-
ments of the animals that I forgot for a while what I
was there for. It seemed a shame to fire into the

ALL ABOUT ANTELOPE.

band with that old blunderbuss, but in order to get
fresh meat and to put a stop to certain jokes which
would be my portion if I returned to camp empty-
handed, I resolved to do my best and kill an antelope.
I took a long breath and trained the weapon on the
nearest full-grown animal, remembering the advice
which my father always gave me to 'be sure that the
sights are on the gun before you pull trigger. '

" I fired, and in less than a second, apparently be-
fore the bullet had time to get there, that whole band
was in motion. It was a grand sight. In their ex-
citement they ran within fifty yards of me, and had
it not been for an accumulation of rust, I might have
extracted the empty shell and got another shot at
them at close range. The spotless fawns had no
trouble in keeping up with the band; in fact, they
seemed to be playing as they ran along, for they
leaped and bounded in the air as if they enjoyed the
sport.

" In less than a minute they seemed a mile away,
and in a half -minute more they were out of sight.
They impressed me with the fact that they were the
proudest, swiftest, and most graceful animals I had
ever seen.

" By this time I remembered that I had shot at one
of them, and with a feeling of anxiety I walked over
the hill to where the band had been standing. To
my great surprise I saw a big old antelope lying there
dead. It almost took my breath away. I looked at
the dead antelope and then at the old carbine, and
decided that the old gun was the best shooter on
earth. I got my shoes, and lightening the load as

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

much as possible, put the antelope on my back and
brought it in. From the feeling of my shoulders I
think it weighed two hundred pounds."

It weighed about seventy, but Dyche was tired.

"Well, now, Dyche, I want you to tell me what
you noticed about the animal. You have been studj^-
ing about large mammals ever since I first knew you,
and are too much of a naturalist not to have examined
the first antelope you ever killed." This question
from Snow at first startled Dyche, but after getting
over a little diffidence ho said :

" After my first feeling of surprise, I began to look
the animal over. It was a fat, barren doe."

" A what? " said Dick. " What is a barren doe? "

" A doe that has never had a fawn, or loses her
fawn early in the spring and goes without one for
the rest of the summer, is called a barren doe. My
attention was attracted particularly to the head,
which is much more handsome than that of any of
the deer kind. The muzzle was delicately and well
formed. It was completely covered with hair, with
the exception of a narrow streak between the nostrils
and the bare skin around them, which was very black.
The ears were small — smaller than those of the com-
mon deer, terminating in a point turning inward from
the general direction of the ear. The eye was 'arge
and dark hazel. I had seen it described as 'black,'
'very black,' or 'intensely black,' and I made a close
examination to satisfy myself. It was a hazel which,
at a short distance, could easily be mistaken for
black, but it was not black. The horns were small,
not more than an inch long."

USELESS TAILS AND QUEER HORNS.

" What do you know about horns, Dyche? " asked
Snow.

" I am coming to that. The body was short, thick,
and heavy, and looked bunchy. This thick, bunchy
appearance, by the way, is more noticeable on a cold
day. The tail is painfully short, and the question
naturally arises, 'What is it good for?' It is too
small for either ornament or use, being less than
three inches long. No other American animal has
such trim feet. The hoofs are long, slender, and
sharply pointed, being ebony black in color. One
very noticeable and striking peculiarity of the feet is
that there are no accessory hoofs on the back, such
as are seen in cows, sheep, goats, and deer.

"Now as to the horns. The most remarkable
characteristic of the antelope is that it has true horns
and not antlers, and it sheds these horns every year.
Naturalists have been doubtful on this subject for
years ; but it is a fact, nevertheless, that such is the
case. All species of deer shed their antlers. There
is a wide difference between horns and antlers. True
horns are seen on cows, sheep, and goats, while ant-
lers are found in the deer family. An antler is a
pure bony structure growing from the frontal bone
of the animal. The males of pU species of deer grow
their antlers every year. The antler begins to grow
in the spring about the time that leaves begin to
sprout on the trees, first appearing on the animal's
head as a sort of knot or knob, covered with velvety
skin. This knob grows very fast, soon being several
inches long. It then bifurcates, and two knobs are
seen on the end of the protuberance. One of these

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

forms the main branch of the antler, while the other
is the first prong or tine. The main beam continues
to grow and bifurcate until the form of the antler
with its many branches is completed, which occurs
about the last of August. This is a wonderful
growth when it is remembered that the antlers of the
elk and moose sometimes attain the weight of fifty or
sixty pounds. While grc ing, the antlers, esj)ecially
the growing ends, are very tender, and can be
whittled with a knife almost as easily as a green
cucumber. As it approaches the base the antler be-
comes hard and bony in its structure. About the
time the leaves of the trees have reached their growth
and have ripened, tba antlers have also reached their
growth and are ripe, as it were. They are now very
hard, and although covered with the velvet skin, it
does not take long for the bucks to rub them clean
by raking them up and down against the trees and
bushes and whipping and threshing around in the
underbrush. After the velvet has been removed this
whipping and threshing process is continued until
the antlers are very hard and bear a fine polish.
The natural color is white, but this continued rub-
bing in the dirt and against the bark and leaves of
trees gives them a brown color, as seen on the deer
killed in the forest."

"Well, what is the use of the antlers, anyway?"
asked Dick. " They get their growth and then are
shed again in a few weeks."

" I think a buck without antlers would not be in
style," was the reply. " The antlers are weapons of
warfare with other bucks, and add much to the at-

USELESS TAILS AND QUEER HORNS.

tractive appearance of the animal when wooing the
doe. When a buck fights any other animal except
another buck he usually uses his feet, but during the
rutting season the bucks fight terrible battles. They
tear up the earth and break down the trees in their
struggles with each other. Sometimes they fight so
fiercely that their horns become locked, and they die
from exhaustion, becoming prey for wolves.

"The antlers are usually dropped soon after the
rutting season has closed. Common deer, moose, and
caribou begin to drop their antlers about the last of
December, old bucks shedding them earlier than
young ones. Elk usually carry their antlers until
March. After the antlers drop off the skin of the
head grows over the spot, and all bucks are 'muleys'
until the warm spring days start the horns to sprout-
ing again.

" Now I am ready to explain what I said about the
antelope's shedding its horns. The part shed is the
shell, which is a true horn and grows on the bony
horn-core which is never shed. This horn is unique
and interesting in several respects. About half-way
up from the base is a prong or branch, which is
usually rather short. It stands forward, outward,
and upward. No other true horn is branched. This
peculiarity has given to the animal the name of
prong buck, by which it is known to many naturalists.
The prong buck sheds his horns in a most remark-
able way. The true horn is modified skin, as the
antler is modified bone. When the time for shed-
ding the horn comes, a new skin begins to grow be-
tween the shell and bony core. This core is similar

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

to that of a cow and stands up a little beyond the
prong. The old horn does not drop off and then let
the new one grow as in the case of antlers, but the old
horn stays on the core to protect the new one while it
is growing. As the new horn-skin develops, a lot of
coarse hairs grow from it and penetrate the old horn
shell near the base, where it is quite thin. This tends
to retain the old shell in place as a protection to the
tender hom growing under it. As the new horn
grows it produces a hard tip which fits on the end
of the bony core, and this hard portion gradually
extends or grows down over the bony core toward its
base. When the entire horn is hard, then the old
horn or shell is dropped off, leaving the bony horn-
core covered with the new horn-skin. The new horn,
when it first sees daylight, is a queer instrument of
defence. Its upper part is a true horn, while the
lower part is a thick skin covered with coarse hair.
It grows harder and harder all summer just during
the period when the true deer have no antlers, and
is perfect by the first of August."

"Well, there's one thing about antelope," said
Snow; " its meat can't be beaten."

"It's all right for a few meals," was the reply of
Mudge as he took another mouthful, "but for a
steady diet it is not so good as buffalo. It cloys the
stomach when you get too much of it."

Dyche's success induced him to make another trial
a few days later, and he went after more antelope;
but late in the afternoon he returned to camp with an
immense rattlesnake trailing over his shoulder. The
reptile was one of the largest ever seen by any mem-

FIGHT WITH A RATTLESNAKE.

ber of the party, being four feet eight inches long
and proportionately thick, resembling a bull-snake.
After supper Dyche told his story o" the capture.

" Seeing a band of antelope on the top of some chalk
bluffs, I slipped along to get a shot at them. As I
went carefully over a ledge I heard something drop
behind me, and looked around in time to see this big
fellow coiling for another spring. He had jumped
at me from a secluded place in the rocks, and missed
my foot as I stepped on a projecting shelf. I went
up the side of that bluff in a hurry, thinking nothing
more about the antelope. I had my insect net with
me, and thought he would be a fine fellow to capture
alive; so I made a cast, covering him completely,
much to his surprise, but I was the most surprised of
the two before he got through with the net, for it
was hardly a second before the snake had coiled and
torn the net to pieces. He struck it viciously several
times, and then began looking for me. I dropped a
big flat rock on his back, which I thought would
crush the life out of him, but he came out from under
that rock in a hurry, mad clear through. He struck
the rock several times, leaving great green splotches
of venom on it» I was considerably worked up my-
self by this time, and began pouring such a fire of
rocks upon him that I soon put him where he could
do no harm.

" I tried to flag some antelope to-day, but they had
been tried before. I saw a fawn in a patch of grass,
and as he was a little fellow I thought I could catch
him. He saw me and went out of sight like a shot,
and I then heard a doe on the slope above me utter-

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

ing a series of queer squealing, whistling noises. I
followed and saw a herd of antelope. As they were
in a position where it was impossible for me to ap-
proach them unobserved, I thought I would see Avhat
there was in <1agging. Carefully adjusting my red
handkerchief to my gun, I raised it in the air and
waited results. As soon as the handkerchief was
seen there v ere a number of whistles, and then the
whole band trotted off and did not stop until they
were a mile away."

Camp was now moved to a spot near Sheridan, on the
railroad; but here it was found that eternal vigilance
was the price of peace, for the whole country was over-
run with tramps. They were so numerous that it was
necessary for some one to remain at camp all the time
to protect the supplies. This became so annoying
that Dyche concluded to try the effects of a scare
upon the unwelcome visitors. In the tent was a bag
of live snakes, and as a dozen or more of the tramps
were lounging around the camp, Dyche brought out
the bag and began taking the reptiles out and allow-
ing them to squirm about his body and head. With
both hands full he started to where the vagrants were
making themselves at home, and was pleased to see
that his plan worked well. After that it was onl}'
necessary to begin handling the snake-bag to clear
the place of tramps.

The location was found to be undesirable on account
of tramps and hydrophobic skunks, and it was deter-
mined to move to Colorado, where a few weeks were
sp^nt in the Platte Canon, completing the collection
of insects.

ses. I
.y were

to ap-
se what
my red
air and
lief was
then the
ntil they

m, on the
vigilance
was over-
lat it was
1 the time
annoying
3f a scare
was a hag
he tramps
rought out
and allow-
ad. With
grants were
3ased to see
it was only
)ag to clear

B on account

t was deter-

weeks were

he collection

Hi—*"- *- ^vjHe^^SaSt^f*^^

CHAPTER in.

In New Mexico — Encounter with a Bear — Cold Hospital-
ity — TIio Retired Boston Merchant and his Mountain
Ranch — An Able Missouri Liar — The Mule that was
Not a Mule — Seven Deer with Seven Shots.

>ONTEZUMA CAMP, on the Gallinas
River, in New Mexico, which had been
pre-empted for two summers in succession
by Professor Snow, was an ideal spot for
an insect-collector's camp. He made this his home
camp in the mountains and enjoyed life with his
family during the summer months in collecting
and arranging the various rare insects which abound
in that part of the country. Dyche was with him,
but the limited sphere of work was irksome to him,
and at last the desire to get among big game became
so strong that he started on a tramp up the moun-
tains with Walter Russ, a student who was on his
first collecting trip. Dyche wanted to hunt deer and
possibly bear, and Russ thought he could stand it as
long as Dyche could.

A ranch eighteen miles from Montezuma Camp,
on the Gallinas River, was the objective point for
the first day, and Dyche determined to reach that
place by night if it was within the range of human
possibility. Under ordinary circumstances eighteen
miles in a day is not a long trip, but when it is over

32 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

a country where there is not even a trail, and through
a canon where half the time must be spent in getting
over rocks and across the river, it will be seen that
the task before the two men was anything but a
pleasant one. Dyche carried a forty-two-pound pack
and a gim, while Kuss had a lighter load ; but before
they reached the end of the journey the loads felt as
if each weighed a ton.

Rain began falling a short time after they started
and poured down steadily all day, soaking their
clothes and making the packs w^eigh heavier and
heavier with every mile traversed. The rain so in-
creased the volume of the stream that the slippery
poles which served for foot-bridges became unsafe
and the travellers were compelled to wade the river
thirty-seven times, with water hip-deep. The pour-
ing rain had so soaked the traA^^eliers, however, that
the wading had little effect in increasing their dis-
comfort. Russ was tired and ready to give up, hut
was cheered on by Dyche, who used all his persuasive
powers to keep his companion going until they could
reach the ranch.

While stumbling along, exhausted from their ex-
traordinary exertions, they roxmded a point of rocks
and came face to face with a big black bear. The
animal was scrambling around the ledge, evidently
trying to keep his feet dry, and was within thirty
foet of the two men when they sa^v eaeli other. The
bear rose on his hind feet in an. attitude of defiance,
missed his footing, rolled over into the stream with
a snort of surprise, got up with a double snort of
terror, and made a wild rush up the opposite side

ENCOUNTER WITH A BEAR.

id through

in getting

seen that

ling but a

)Ound pack

but before

Dads felt as

hey started
king their
eavier and
rain so in-
bhe slippeiy
ame unsafe
e the river
The pour-
iwever, that
g their dis-
^ive up, but
s persuasive
.1 they could

)m their ex-
int of rocks

bear. The
;e, evidently
dthin thirty

other. The

1 of defiance,

stream with

ible snort of

3pposite side

of the mountain, sending rocks and mud flying in
his haste to get away. Ru.s made equally good
time up his side of the mountain, all the while beg-
ging Dyche not to shoot but to let the bear get away
if it wanted to.

Hurriedly cutting the strings which bound his gun
to his pack, Dyche got the weapon and shot two big
holes through the air up toward the place where the
bear was making such frantic efforts to get away.
The shots served only to accelerate the movements of
both the bear and Russ, and in a minute the bear was
out of sight, while Russ stood shivering away up on
the side of the mountain. The episode had one good
effect. Russ, for an hour, had been begging Dyche
to stop and camp, but now he was most anxious to
push on, and ho hurried up the remaining two miles
as if he did not know what fatigue was. Ho con-
tinued to urge more speed until they reached the
park in which Johnson's ranch was situated, and
only then did he feel perfectly safe.

Darkness compelled them to feel their way along,
and with outstretched hands they groped about until
they found a house. A knock at the door brought a
man whom they asked for shelter. What was their
surprise when they received a short answer that they
could get no accommodations there. Not only was
admission to the house refused, but even the stable
was barred against them. Begging and pleading
\va8 of no avail, though the rain was pouring down
on them. This tirouwed Dyche's indignation, and he
gave the proprietor a piece of his mind about his in-
hospitality which had the effect of causing the man
8

I '!

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

■A

i i»

* i|

i ' *

J 1

to go inside for consultation, and after this reluctant
consent was given for them to enter.

The occupants of the cabin, two men, a woman,
and some children, eyed the visitors with suspicion,
and to tell the truth they were m' th^ag but reputa-
ble-looking citizens as they str -; J 'k ; ^ the big fire-
place with their clothes dripping w* t and their faces
and hands cut and scratched from contact with
bushes and rocks on the trail. Dyche noticed that
the woman seemed frightened, and to calm her
fears he took from his haversack a package of
coffee and from his pocket a dollar which he offered
her to make him some coffee. This partially dis-
pelled the cloud of suspicion which rested upon them,
and soon the travellers were making a meal from the
cold lunch which they had in their haversa ks and
the steaming coffee. Securing a place l>e/^ide the
fire they were soon sleeping the d\e<^i of ( ;'haus-
tion.

Next morning Johnson, the proprietor of V e ranch,
appeared ashamed of his inhospitality of :!.o pre-
vious night, and explained that it was rot from
any desire on his part to mistreat the travellers, but
that he was not in good condition to accommodate
strangers "nd felt particularly sensiti'' e on the sub-
ject, as he had had a very bitter ex^orience with a
party of Englishmen a few weeks bi :.v.<\ These men
came to his ranch, asking for acconi'v lations, and
put on such lordly airs and found so much fault
that Joha-ion md Li^j wife determined to allow
no more such peopl'^ ',ii their place. When Dyche
ai^d Russ camo tlicy supposed that it was another

COLD HOSPITALITY.

s reluctant

a woman,
suspicion,
3Ut reputa-
,he big fire-
their faces
intact with
loticed that
calm her
package of
he offered
lartially dis-
upon them,
eal from the
'^ersa^ks and
: .e-'.de the
of t'haus-

ot I e ranch,
T of :Lo pre-
as rot from
ravjllers, but
accommodate
3 on the Hub-
rience with a
L\ These men
.Hlntions, and
) much fault
led to allow
When Dyche
5 was another

party of Englishmen and took measures to prevent a
repetition of the insults. Johnson said he had been
partly revenged on the Englishmen, as a silver-tip
grizzly bear had demolished their camp which they
had made about a mile from the ranch.

The Englishmen were there to get a bear and were
supplied with all that money could buy in the way
of hunting outfits and delicacies for the table. They
were great hunters (in their own estimation) and
bragged continually about the big game which they
had slaughtered. Bear-tracks were plentiful on
the mountain, and day after day was spent by
the whole party looking for the ".nimals. One
night, on returning after a fruitless hunt, they
found that the grizzly had shown his American
contempt for all things British and had literally
captured the camp. It hardly seemed possible that
one bear could do so much damage in so short
a time. Sacks of sugar had been torn open, eaten,
and trampled on the ground ; dried fruit was scat-
tered over the whole place ; cracker-boxes had been
opened and the contents chewed and stamped in
the dirt ; flour-sacks were torn to pieces and the con-
tents made into a paste and trodden into the earth ;
a hundred pounds of bacon was trampled, torn, and
bitten until its usefulness was gone ; a box of candles
was chewed up and spewed over the ground ; three
sacks of different-sized shot had been torn open, the
contents thoroughly mixed and so scattered that they
were of no more value ; the tobacco case was opened
and several pounds of smoking and chewing tobacco
strewed around and mixed with the general mess

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

around the camp. Bruin had fully satisfied his ap-
petite and then displayed the general " cussedness"
of his nature by leaving a universal wreck behind

him.

And how those Englishmen did rage ! They swore
vengeance against that individual bear in particular
and all bears in general. There was absolutely noth-
ing left about the place fit to eat. Going to Johnson's
they begged sufficient food to last them until they
coidd send down the mountain for more supplies.
They bought a big bear- trap and imported a fine Eng-
lish hound and began a campaign against the bear.
The greatest loss was the death of the hound, which
was caused by the bite of a trade rat. One man was
now constantly on guard at the camp while the others
searched the woods for the bear. The only indica-
tion they ever had of his presence afterward was
when he ate up a deer which one of their number
killed and left in the woods while he returned to
camp for assistance to bring it in.

The top of the mountain was still seven miles away,
and Johnson told Dyche of another ranch there be-
longing to a man named Harvey, who could probably
give them better hunting-grounds than would be
found lower down. This determined the hunters to
push on up the mountain. Near the top they came
upon a beautiful park, in the centre of which stood a
lone, one-roomed cabin. A cow and burro grazed
on the luxuriant grass close by, and a man was
chopping logs. As the two men approache<l he rested
from his labor and looked at them with surprise.
The visitors opened with a friendly " hello I "

THE RETIRED BOSTON MERCHANT.

"Hello, there, yourselves," was the response.
" Where in time did you fellows come from? "

"From Johnson's ranch."

"I want to know!"

" Is this Harvey's ranch? "

"Yes; but how in time did you fellows get up
here? "

" Well, we saw burro- tracks leading this way and
followed them."

" I want to know ! Well, you did mighty well to
find the place."

By this time the whole party was seated on one of
the logs and the equipment of the visitors fully in-
spected by the owner of the ranch, who finally said :

"Say, what in time are you fellows going to do
with those fish-nets? There ain't no fish on the top
of this mountain. I have been here going on six
weeks and it ain't rained a drop since I came here."

"Where did you come from, anyway, that you
don't know insect-nets? "

" Well, I want to know ! I heard about you bug-
hunters down to Vegas. I wish you would catch all
the green-head flies. They pester my old cow and
burro almost to death."

" You don't mean to say that a cow and burro can
live up here? "

" Live up here? Whj'-, there's the finest grass up
here you ever saw. Look at my potatoes down
there ; they were planted three weeks ago to-day.
Did you ever see anything like it in your country?
It hasn't rained a drop since I came, neither."

" Is there a good place to camp around lieic ? "

anuwwvt.jiw'. '■"

fi '

111

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

"Camp? Well, I want to know! How are you
going to camp? "

" Why, we have blankets and ten days' prov isions
in our packs. "

"Camp? Yes, camp right here in the house,"
pointing to his one-roomed cabin.

" We have come up here to collect insects and plants
and perhaps to kill animals. We did not come up to
inflict ourselves on you or to bother you in any way,
unless it might be to get a little milk from that cow
now and then."

" We have the finest milk up here you ever saw
and you can have all you want of it. That's about
all we do have that's fresh, except air and water. If
one of you fellows don't kill a deer pretty soon there
won't be any meat on this mountain."

" Are there many deer on this mountain? "

" Deer? I want to know ! . Why, you can see deer
'most any day over on that hillside in the quakin' asp.
You can stand right here in the door and see them
pass along any morning. They've been shot at sev-
eral times, though, and are gettin' kinder wild, but
they're here."

"Can we camp down in that point of quaking

asp

" No, you can camp right here at the house, cook
at the big fire-place, and sleep in-doors. It gets
mighty cold up here at night."

At this juncture a tall lady, whose bearing was in
strange contrast with her surroundings, appeared at
the door, saying :

"High, dinner is ready."

HIS MOUNTAIN RANCH.

V are you

pro\ isions

le house,"

and plants
come up to
1 any way,
□a that cow

u ever saw

hat's about

I water. If

soon there

n?"

can see deer
juakin' asp.
id see them
shot at sev-
er wild, but

of quaking

I house, cook
jrs. It gets

aring was in
appeared at

" Come in to dinner, boys. We haven't got much.
Only been up here six weeks. That's a hard moun-
tain to pack stuff up with burros," said Harvey,
and the party entered the house.

A more primitive cabin could hardly be imagined.
The furniture, cut from timber, was simply and
strangely made. A large fire-place at one end of the
room glowed with a bed of living coals. A curtain
in one comer hid a pole bedstead, while in the comer
diagonally opposite a pole table, at which were several
three-legged stools, completed the furniture. A lone
window let in light through small plates of mica
which had been quarried from the mountain-side.
Long poles, overlaid with sod, formed a compact roof
and kept out rain and cold. Here with his wife and
two boys, Clarence and Allie, Harvey made his home.

With no apology from Mrs. Harvey, who served
the dinner daintily, all sat down to a meal composed
of baked beans, Boston brown bread, and coffee.
It is unnecessary to say that the tired tramps
made the most of it. During the meal it trans-
pired that Harvey was an ex- Boston merchant,
whose good nature had run away with his judg-
ment to such an extent that he finally found aU
his capital and profits trusted to those who either
could not or would not pay, and he was compelled to
seek a new life in the West. In his wanderings he
reached this spot, and his eyes were so filled with the
beauty of the place that he determined to make it his
home. Water and grass were there, while trees grew
on the hillside. What more did he want? He built
his cabin and prepared to stand the heavy snows and

-1^

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

■ fl

■ I :

low temperature which the ranchmen of the valley-
told him he would experience. To all their tales of
woe his invariable answer was :

"I want to know!"*

Dyche and Russ accepted the invitation which was
given with such sincerity, and several days were
snent searching for rare insects and plants. When
a goodly number of specimens had been secured Russ
returned to Camp Montezuma with them and Dyche
remained at the ranch intending to hunt animals
and birds. Harvey's continued talk of the number
and apparent tameness of deer gave Dyche a de-
sire to obtain a few for specimens and at the same
time for a supply of fresh meat at the ranch.
With this double object in view he started every
morning early and returned every evening with
monotonous regularity with the same story to tell.
He had seen deer, but just as he got ready to shoot
they disappeared in the ^\ oods and he could not find
them again. At last he wont out, saying he would
not come back until he got a deer. He left the ranch
early with a single biscuit in his pocket for lunch.
It was almost dark when they heard three wild
whoops away up on the side of the mountain. An-

* Four years later Harvey's labor had borne good fruit and his mountain
home, ten thousand feet above the level of the sea, had become a favorite re-
sort of tourists. The ranch is the highest on tho American continent and Is
peculiarly isolated. Fifty acres are now under cultivation and over a hun-
dred head of horses, cattle, and burros praze on the grass of the meadow.
Tons of hay, barley, wheat, rye, and oats are raised, and from his dairy ho
sells many pounds of butter and cheese. Notwithstanding the altitude,
the climate is salubrious, and the several log-cabins which he has built find
tenants each summer. Durmg tho winter he finds that the temperature is
rarely below zero, while the snow-fall is light, and tho valley is suitable for
occupancy the entire year.

HIS MOUNTAIN RANCH.

the valley
ir tales of

which was
lays were
ts. When
cured Russ
and Dyche
nt animals
bhe number
>yche a de-
at the same
the ranch,
arted every
ening with
itory to tell,
ady to shoot
Duld not find
ng he would
eft the ranch
et for lunch,
i three wild
untain. An-

t and his mountain
ecomo a favorite re-
an continent and la
on and over a hun-
vss of the meadow,
d from his dairy he
anding the altitude,
ch he has built find
t the temperature is
valley is suiUble for

swering shouts rang out, and the ranch was imme-
diately a scene of excitement and bustle, for the
signal was understood. Dyche had got a deer.

"Hurry up there, boys, and get that pack-saddle
on old Reuben. Don't you hear that feller hollerin'?
He's got a deer, sure !" called out Harvey.

Away they hurried up the mountain, and at the
edge of a bunch of quaking asp they found Dyche
standing beside a fine young buck, while at a little
distance lay a second equally fine. The deer were
placed on the burro and the procession went to the
ranch, where they were met by Mrs. Harvey. Every-
body was talking at once and no one cared what the
other had to say. The hour was late and one deer
was dressed and quartered. Harvey showed that he
was a good cook himself, and while his wife prepared
the biscuits and coffee he broiled the venison steaks
over the coals in the fire-place. The hot supper was
enjoyed by all, and then Dyche told the story of his
day's hunt.

" I had walked all day without getting sight of
anything worth shooting. T was tired and disgusted
and was dragging myself home when I reached the
bunch of quaking asp and willows, up there. I had
been along there several times before but had always
gone around the thicket. This time I went through
it. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled
in. The ground was wet and mossy, but that made
no difference. After proceeding about a quarter of
a mile in this way I \ eached a small grassy park in
the centre of the thicket. Just as I entered it on one
side I saw three deer going out on the other. They

82 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

stopped for a minute at the edge of the timber and
my Winchester, which was already pointed that
way, was fired at a fine young buck. I took as good
an aim as was possible in my ne: '^ous state. The
buck bojnded into the forest with the others, and in
a second I saw one of the number stop an instant so
that I could get a glimpse of his body as he passed
between the trees. I shot a second time, taking even
more care than at first. The smoke came back in
my face and made me very uncomfortable. I walked
slowly and carefully across the opening, watching
for the slightest movement, oat all was still and I
could neither see nor hear the deer. I found plenty
of tracks and then great spots of blood . Now I knew
my chances were good, I went rapidly forward on
the trail and a feAV rods further found the buck lying
by the side of a log where he had made his last leap.
He was stone dead. I felt like cheering, but restrained
myself and began searching for more signs of deer.
I thought I might have wounded another and did not
like to leave a wounded deer. I followed one trail
for about a quarter of a mile, but saw no signs of
blood and then returned to the other track. This led
me only a few yards and there I found the second
deer, shot dead in his tracks. Now was the time to
yell, and yell I did, and you know the rest of the
story, for you have eaten fresh meat."

" I want to know ! And this is the finest meat I
have ever tasted, too."

Several days later Dyche again went out with the
intention of getting a deer before he returned. Away
up on the side of the mountain he was making his

HIS MOUNTAIN RANCH.

mber and
nted that
)k as good
uate. The
jrs, and in

instant so
he passed
iking even
ne back in
I walked
, watching
still and I
►imd plenty
sTow I knew
forward on
( buck lying
lis last leap,
it restrained
gns of deer.

and did not
ed one trail

no signs of
:k. This led
d the second
s the time to
9 rest of the

finest meat I

; out with the
rned. Away
IS making his

way carefully, stepping softly and avoiding stones
and twigs in his pathway for fear the noise would
disturb the game. At the opening of a beautiful
mountain meadow he stood entranced at the picture
which was presented to his gaze. At his feet, ofif to
the west, lay "Paradise Valley," as Harvey had
named his ranch. Down through a narrow defile in
the mountains, as through a golden frame tinged
with green, could be seen a picture the like of which
had never been limned by painter's brush. Looking
over the beautiful valley, all aglow with the beams
of the morning's sun, the circling crags of the high-
est mountain held in their mighty grasp, in peaceful
seclusion, the ideal home of one tired of the world
and its constant warfare. Out through the canon,
up which the winding trail led, was seen a vast cleft
at the foot of which lay a mirror-like lake, reflecting
the beauties of hill and dale. The grassy slope led
off on either side, and the clusters of fir, spruce, and
quaking asp trees formed a living picture in vivid
colors.

While looking at the scene avl oreathing the
pure air which gave him new life, Dyche came upon
a large doe. The startled animal was hurrying across
the open ground and had just reached the edge of the
timber, when the gun spoke and she dropped in her
tracks with a ball through the shoulders. The vis-
cera were removed and the blood wiped out with
grass and leaves, and the ranch was reached just as
Harvey was preparing to get out of bed. At the
word " deer" the ranchman was half out, and before
the word " killed" was uttered he was dressing.

ill

• I

b4 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

•*I want to know! Another deer! Clare, get old
Beuben and bring him up here in a hurry. We'll go
right after that deer. Rhea," calling to his wife,
" Dyche has another deer. Don't it beat time ! Say,
Rhea, give Us an extra mess of that venison this
morning. Well, I want to know ! If he didn't bring
the liver with him ! Cook a good lot of that too.
How far is it? Just think of it, Rhea, just up here
at the head of the meadow. Thre ''eer killed almost
within a quarter of a mile of th* 'se. This is the
country for me. They wouldn't ocxieve it if I should
write it back to Boston."

Clare brought up old Reuben, and while Mrs.
Harvey cooked the venison the deer was brought down
from the mountain. The old doe was a good load
for the burro and much trouble was experienced in
making the contrary brute carry it down safely.
How that breakfast was enjoyed ! The long morning
tramp and the bracing air sharpened the appetite,
while the savory venison, flanked on either side by
hot gems and washed down by such coffee and cream
as can only be obtained at Harvey't ranch, made a
meal not easily forgotten.

Dyche now had two young deer, buck and doe, and
an old doe for specimens, but the mountains had too
great a charm for him and he could not leave them.
The early morning hunts and the trailing of the deer
through the woods were too great a pleasure to be
soon foregone. A few days after killing the doe a
rain fell just at the dinner- hour and continued for a
few minutes after. When it cleared and the sun
came out Dyche took his AVinchester and started up

AN ABLE mSSOURI LIAR.

tho side of the mountain. Trees and grass were heavy
with water and he was soon soaking wot. While
going carefully through the underbrush, making as
little noise as possible, he was suddenly startled by a
noise about twenty-five yards in front of him. A
deer jumped out and ran with long bounds for about
fifty yards, when it stopped and looked back. Just a
small portion of the ba<]c was visible through the
underbrush. Taking c;ireful aim he fired, and mak-
ing his way through the bushes found that he had
broken the back of a doe. Her hair was in fine con-
dition and in every way she was a splendid specimen.
The old signal-yell was given, and answering shouts
came up from the valley as Harvey and the boys
with Reuben hastened to get the quarry.

As Harvey had occasion to go to Las Vegas, Dyche
sent a good load of venison to the party at Camp
Montezuma. At Las Vegas Harvey picked up a
man who said he was a Missourian and brought him
along to work for the summer. According to the
Missourian 's story, he was the greatest deer-hunter
that ever lived. He had killed twenty-five the win-
ter before. Twenty-four of them were shot through
the heart. One of them, a big buck, had been out of
sight except the head, and its neck was broken just
back of the ears. So many stories like these were told
by the Missourian that Dyche and Harvey took him
out on the mountain to hunt deer. Passing down a
meadow with the Missourian about two hundred
yards ahead, two deer suddenly jumped up some
forty yards in front of the deer-slayer. They stood
looking at him and he returned the stare. At last

m4f

I I

r. VTPES OF A NATURAIJST.

'^ ' , vpcl slowly off into the

and breathlessly f^t^^ «hoot at those deer?"
" Why in thunder amn I J

"What deer?" j ^^^„t to know ! Didn't yon

"What deer ''^* ^ ^^ge o£ the brush?"
see them two deer at the _jifa

« I didn't see any deer. ^^^^ j^^^^ jj bad.

"Well, I want to ^nov' . ^ 8 ^^^ ,,^it,d for you
They looked you right m J" ^ chance."

I shoot. You'll -;:;?, ::tXvget for so „>any
jr^:lt a12Xt he never again —ned

-cfn^jts^rsrov^fti^s

tionlashehadhuned «^|.^j^ ^^^ ,„d in
in the vicinity of the '^^ ^^^, ^,0 mountain
.iewhewent ^o"*/" Mexicans had built a
into another natural paik. ^ ^^^j^g the

slight indosure and kept tl;. ^^^^ ^^ ^j,^

summer up m the ?"*„;„ the inclosure. The
aboutado.en ^^^'.f^.'^fXce, a»d it was as wild
Mexicans rarely visit^^d '^f J^i^iie following the
as any part of the ^^^^J^^^j.^y came upon an
fresh trail of a deer, Dy^d >^ ^ ^^^^
animal standing m the brushy Going a little

ination he thought that '' J«^ ^^ and was ataost
closer he made — ^^X^ slowly nearer ana
mire it was a mule, ne wcujv ^^^^

:S see part of the B-do »d one^^g. J^^ ^^^^,,

very sure it was a ^^^^"^ J„^,, ^-bich suddenly
to within thirty yards of the anmu ,

SEVEN DEER WITH SEVEN SHOTS.

)ffc- into tlie
L to the spot

those deer?"

Didn't you

sli?"

u had it bad.
raited for you

h chance."
t for so many
lin mentioned

field of opera-
rer the ground
I this end in

the mountain
s had built a
tds during the
J.Q at the time
inclosure. The
1 it was as wild
B following the
y came upon an
,er a long exam-
Going a littlo

and was almost
owly nearer and
,g. He was now
d boldly forward

which suddenly

gave a great bound and went crashing through the
woods, making a noise like a herd of cattle. In a
very few minutes it was out of sight, and Dyche real-
ized that he had missed an opportunity of getting a
fine bull elk. He followed it seven or eight miles,
but overtaking that elk was out of the question,
so the hunter returned to the ranch and spent several
days meditating upon his loss. '

An old Virginia buck deer ranged through the
.nountains and had been seen several times ; but ho
had been hunted, and it has not yet been chronicled
if there is anything wilder or more tricky than a
Virginia deer that has been hunted . This old fellow
in particular seemed to be equal to all the snares and
traps laid for him. One cool, frosty September morn-
ing Dyche carefully made his waj' through the woods
frequented by this particular deer. While skirting
along the edge of a piece of timber ho espied a mov-
ing object across the opening. It was about half a
mile awp.y, but he could see that it was a buck. It
had its head high in the air and was on the lookout
for danger. His genera^ direction lay down a ridge.
Dyche crawled to a point where he calculated the
animal would pass. It was cold, and this with his
nervousness put Dycho in a tremble. Minute after
minute went by and no deer came. He was just
about to give it up, when the deer appeared in a
bunch of quaking asp about eighty 5^ards away. He
had deserted the ridge and was hiding in the thick
I woods. Hardly daring to breathe, Dyche trained the
I gun toward the old fellow, when something attracted
the animal's attention and it gave three or four great

"m^mmmmmmmtmxf

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

bounds with its head high in the air and stopped,
stone etin, h'stening. Then the rifle spoke and the
buck crashed through the woods at full speed, but he
was jumping high. Soon he came to the ground in
a heap, and the signal-yeU brought the boys and
Reuben and the finest specimen of the trip was taken
to the ranch. With seven deer killed with seven
shot-i, Dyche was now ready to return to his duties
away from the woods,

and stopped,
poke and the
speed, but he
the ground in
die boys and
rip was taken
(i with seven
to his duties

■ ^ . j.-^lr^f^-jijjliy^-ji^yjjj

Misvj!K'¥.V!-i:Kiiaimi- .'.jMemmta

■J

■1 ■ .

1 il

1 1'^^

\ ■

> /

As he appeared in I lie opciiing.

CHAPTER IV.

In New Mexico — Hunting Bear — Once more at Harvey's — The
Same Luck — Camp Bear Trail — The last Pot-Shot — A
Long Chase — In Ambush — Too Much of a Good Thing —
A Monarch Dethroned — What was Done with the Royal
Hide.

)T was under greatly changed conditions
that Dyche climbed the trail leading to
Harvey's ranch, a year after the inci-
dents related in the last chapter. He
now knew what to expect in the way of game and
went well prepared for the summer's campaign. He
had given the subject much thought during the win-
ter months, and this time he was after bears. For
his companion he had a student who displayed nerve,
endurance, and tact — three indispensable attributes of
a good camper and collector.

It was early in June when Dyche and Brown left
Las Vegas and took the old trail up the Gallinas
River. The day was fine and travelling good, and
they reached Harvey's home in good season. D5^che
was little prepared for the change which had been
wrought itr thB inoimtain ranch. Harvey had util-
ized every moment, and now in place of the little
one-roomed cabin there stood an imposing log-house
with shingled roof, a log-barn partly up, and the ex-
Boston merchant had prepared five acres each for
4 39

! :

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

oats and wheat, while two acres were in potatoes.
His herd of one cow and burro had increased until
he had several of each kind. Substantial furniture
replaced the pole table, bedstead, and stools, and to
crown all there was a large cooking-range in the
kitchen. As all these additions had been transported
up the narrow trail on the backs of burros, it was
always a mystery to Dyche how the stove had been
brought in. The two old-fashioned fire-places gave
to the whole a home-like appearance which brought
many pleasant memories to Dyche.

As the naturalists neared the ranch they saw
Harvey at work in his field, and Dyche gave the
signal-yell which had been used last year to notify
the ranch of the death of a deer. As the sound
reached Harvey he gave a jump and sent back the
answering yell, while from the house rushed the boys,
and even old Reuben recognized the sound and added
his sweet voice to the general clamor. They came
pell-mell down the trail, with Reuben bringing up
the rear ; and Dyche was soon surrounded by the trio,
each trying to shake his hand and all talking at once.

" There's not been a deer killed since you left here, "
said Harvey. " Beaty and his partner have a cabin
up here above the meadow, where they are mining
mica. They have been hunting deer and hunting
deer all winter and got nothing. I guess they have
either run them all ofT or made them so wild that
you won't be able to get one. I've been telling them
how you got one at every shot and whenever you
wanted one."

" Well, we'll have something better this year. I've

ONCE MORE AT HARVEY'S.

are mining

got a new gun, a regular bear-gun. It's the old
reliable Sharp's rifle."

" I want to know ! "

"Yes. We are going to have bear-meat this
year."

" I want to know ! I saw bear-tracks down below
the meadow not over a week ago, and not a month
ago one ate up my calf that died. There are bear
here. Beaty and his partner have been after them,
but they get nothing."

Dinner was soon ready and all went into the house
to attend to the inner man. Reuben was a privileged
character, but Mrs. Harvey let him understand that
his privileges ended at the door of the house, and he
stood near the step chewing an oli dish-rag which
had inadvertently been left outside. The most
noticeable change about the place was on the table.
Plates, knives, forks, spoons, and dishes were there,
and they were set on a fine extension table. But
when the viands were spread there was something
which could not have boen changed — that freshness
and flavor of the wilderness which brought back such
a flood of memories to Dyche that he could scarcely
finish the meal, so anxious was he to get out again
among the quaking asp and fir.

After dinner Brown went back down the trail with
a train of burros to get some articles which had been
left at the foot of the mountain. Dyche unstrapped
his new rifle and wandered off over the old familiar
hills. He cared little for the game he might find.
His whole being was filled with the joy which comes
only to those who have roamed over the fastnesses

'im

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

of the mountains in perfect freedom— a thing of
which the naturalist hunter alone can boast.

Just as the sun was going over the western range
the sharp crack of a rifle was hoard in a willow
patch up on the side of the mountain, and this was
soon followed by the familiar shout. When the
gunshot was heard Harvey could hardly wait for the
signal, and he yelled to the boys to saddle old Reuben,
for he was sure Dyche had a deer. When the call
came ringing down the hillside pandemonium reigned
at the ranch. Harvey alternately sang, danced, and
shouted, and then scolded the boys for being so slow.

" Get on the skillet, Rhea — Dyche has a deer. I
knew he would get one. Hurry up there, boys.
What in time are you poking along so for?"

Harvey, the boys, and Reuben were soon at the
clump of trees and found Dyche standing by the side
of a fine doe. It was carried to the ranch in triumph,
Harvey alternately congratulating Dyche and then
himself on the success of the hunt. He was im-
patient to let Beaty know of it, and told Dyche that
he would not have had that deer missed for any-
thing. He would rather have given fifty, yes, a hun-
dred dollars than to have missed getting that deer.

" I knew you couldn't help getting one. How in
time did you find him so easy? Beaty never could
see one in this part of the mountain."

"I spent the afternoon wandering around and
thinking of the fine times I had last year. I recalled
how I had stalked a buck there and had been disap-
pointed under that tree; how a doe had once jumped
out of that clump of bushes and how I had killed a

if
ll

THE SAME LUCK.

•a thing of
ast.

istern range
in a willow
nd this was

When the
wait for the
old Reuben,
^hen the call
Liiim reigned
danced, and
eing so slow.
IS a deer. I
there, hoys.
Qr?"

soon at the
g by the side
1 in triumph,
;he and then
He was im-
d Dyche that
sed for any-
y,yes, ahun-

that deer.
>ne. How in
T never could

around and
I recalled
I been di sap-
once jumped
I had killed a

deer in this opening. I paid little attention to any-
thing, but just wanted to breathe the fresh air and
smell the fir trees. Just at sundown I reached the
edge of that clump of willows and stalked carefully
through it, as it seemed a likely place to find game.
Away across on the other side I saw something
move. • Watching carefully I soon made out that it
was a deer, and stood perfectly still, while the ani-
mal walked out into the opening and began nibbling
grass. It was a long way to shoot, over two hundred
yards, but I knew if I moved the animal would see
me and be off like a shot. I set the sights on *01d
Reliable ' at three hundred yards, took the best aim
possible, and pulled trigger. When the smoke cleared
away I went over and found the old doe with her
back broken."

But Dyche was after bear thifc. year and had no
time to spend at the ranch. Three days later, with
a string of burros hired from Harvey, the natural-
ists started over an old trail to a point higher in the
mountains, where man had rarely been. A chapter
might bo written on the haps and mishaps of that trip.
The trail was almost obliterated and the hunters were
unused to carrying packs, and the trials and tribula-
tions of that journey were quite enough to discourage
a man of less persistence. It might be told how the
packs would slip, and how the donkeys would go the
wrong way at the wrong time ; how they would refuse
to cross streams at critical moments, and how one ob-
stinate old jenny had deliberately broken through the
crust of snow and almost frozen her legs before they
could tunnel her out of the deep drift. But bears

■ss^ssimmmm

•^

;

; ■

) [

j
1

■':!

!
!1

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

the party must have now. They were encamped in
a little meadow which marked a pass between two
snow-capped ranges. Each night on the way up the
mountain had been full of incident and adventure. It
is a story in itself to tell of the terrible wind which
blew the dead trees down about the camp during the
first night on the trail ; how the monarchs of the forest
came crashing down in all directions and threatened
destruction to the campers ; how the tent was crushed
and the donkeys almost frightened out of their wits
by the storm ; how the following night some wild
animal, probably a bear or lion, had scared the bur-
ro3 so that they rushed into camp and would not
venture out again after grass ; how old Reuben im-
proved the opportunity to make a meal of the dish-rag
and had eaten half a bar of soap before he was dis-
covered and tied to a tree with a very short rope in
order thpt he might meditate on his sins. All things
must come to an end, and this trip up the mountains
was no exception to the rule.

Just at dark on the evening of the third day camp
was made in a little mountain meadow, and when
daylight came next morning they saw that the place
oould not have been better chosen. Within seventy-
five yards of the tent was a well-worn bear trail,
where the brutes had passed from one mountain to
the other for years. The place was christened
" Camp Bear Trail," and preparations for an extended
hunt were mad'^.

There was no doubt that there were plenty of bears
in the vicinity, for their trails could be seen all
about the place. So confident were Dyche and Brown

THE LAST POT-SHOT.

icamped in
tween two
m\y up the
-^enture. It
rind which
during the
)f the forest
threatened
vas crushed
I their wits
some wild
ed the bur-
would not
Reuben im-
the dish-rag
he was dis-
ihort rope in
, AH things
mountains

d day camp
, and when
at the place
hin seventy-
bear trail,
mountain to
christened
an extended

?nty of bears
be seen all
e and Brown

that they would soon get a bear that they contented
themselves with bacon rather than risk scaring away
the big game by a shot at a grouse or deer. Every
lught the burros were brought into camp and tied
for fear they would fall a prey to bruin. In a few
days the novelty of the situation wore off and Dyche
killed a deer, not caring whether the shot scared a
bear or not. He went out on the side of the moun-
tain to look for meat, carrying his big Sharp and a
number 10 Colt shot-gun so that he would bo ready
for anything. Hearing a noise in a clump of wil-
lows his blood almost boiled with excitement, for
from the noise he was sure that a bear was coming.
Suddenly the bushes parted and a big mule deer buck
trotted out into the opening with head up and ready
to jump at the slightest sound. He was on the steep
hillside fifty yards above Dyche, who sent a load of
buckshot into him and the animal rolled down to
within thirty feet of his slayer.

Bear-trails were followed day after day without
ever seeing or hearing anything of the animals. An
ambush was laid for a deer which came to the little
lake every evening for water. While lying in wait
a band of the animals came down to the water's edge
to drink. When they were well bunched and not
over seventy-five yards away, Dyche discharged " Old
Reliable," and as the frightened deer ran he fired
three more shots after them. When the smoke
cleared away he found that he had done that which
no true hunter feels proud of. He had allowed his
excitement to get the better of his judgment, and
there, as the result of his four shots, lay six fine deer.

CAMPFTRES OF A NATURALIST.

Four had seemingly been shot through at the first
fire. Dycho was ashamed and almost vowed to give
up hunting on account of the unwarranted slaugh-
ter. He made all the amends in his pov,.;r, and
every pound of meat and all the skins were saved.
Blown went down the trail to Harvey's with the
meat. In his whole hunting experience thereafter
this served as a good lesson. He never again shot
at random into a bunch of animals, but always
singled out the one wanted for meat or a specimen.

The first night after Brown went down with the
meat a big bear passed along the trail, kc- mg a
track as big as a peck measure. Dycho resolved to
see where that bear went if it took all summer.
With a light lunch in his pocket, a thin rubber
blanket, some matches, a hatchet, his rifle, and seven-
teen cartridges he started on the campaign. The
trail was fresh and the bear did not seem to know
that he was followed. He went swinging along,
leaving a trail that could bo followed on the nm.
Here he had turned over a log and there he had
scratched up the earth looking for roots and tender
shoots. He wandered around in an apparently aim-
less manner, and Dyche followed every track. Here
a stream had been crossed and tlie water was still
muddy where the big fellow had stopped to wallow.
The trail led into a deep fir forest and it was almost
dusk under the trees. The pines interlaced at the
top and the ground was covered with a thick bed of
needles, shredded fir-cones that had been opened by
squirrels looking for the seeds, and leaves, whicl
formed a carpet in some places three feet thick. Il

IN AMBUSH.

t the first
ed to give
Bd slaugh-
>o'<\';r, and
ere saved,
with the
thereafter
again shot
Hit aiwaya
pecimcn.
n wuh the
kc!> iiig a
resolved to
1 summer,
hin rubber
, and seven-
aign. The
3m to know
;ing along,
m the run.
lere he had
and tender
irently aim-
■ack. Here
er was still
to wallow,
was almost
aced at the
lick bed of
opened by
,ves, which
thick. Il

this mass of debris were found many bear beds,
where the animals had scooped out great hollows and
made comfortable sleeping-places. Night settled
down and Dycho was at last compelled to give up
the chase. Ho had travelled fully fifteen miles over
the mountains and through the forest, and was so
tired that he did not think of returning to camp, but
finding a sheltered place on a largo projecting rock,
he spread his gossamer blanket as a wind-break, and
on a bed of spruce and fir boughs, with a blazing fire
at his feet, he tried to sleep. He was tired, but sleep
would not come. He would fall into a doze and then
wake with a start from dreaming about a fight with
a big grizzly, and would alternately doze and build up
the fire until morning came. At early dawn he
started back to the home camp, and the day was
spent resting.

Awaking from a refreshing sleep next morning,
Dycho saw where c bear had come over the trail,
and, to show his contempt for the hunters, had wal-
lowed in the spring from which they got their drink-
ing-water. Brown returned with mail and provisions
from Harvey's and a council of war was held. It
was decided to make an ambush and wait until the
bear again went over the trail and then kill him.
He evidently passed along in the night, and a plat-
form Avas built in a tree near the trail.

Darkness found Dyche safely ensconced on the
platform, prepared for an all-night's siege. A heavy
overcoat was supplemented by a blanket and a trunk-
Btrap secured him to the tree in case he should fall
asleep. The rifle and shot-gun were within easy reach,

i'.r'/'F?ffiiw?fiMrai

■: »<■

'■)

) '[I

J '!

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

and it would have been a bad night for a bear had
one come across the trail. All night long, shivering
and longing for daylight, Dyche sat there, but never
a sound of bear was heard. The stillness was horrible.
Not an owl hooted and not a twig was snapped by
fox or wolf. The twittering of the early birds at last
announced the approach of day, and Dyche crawled
down, cold and benumbed, and made his way to
camp, where a hot breakfast soon reinvigourated him.
Again and still again was this ambush laid. A band
of deer went over the trail, and then a fox came and
smelled the bait but did not touch it, and a wildcat
came along and clawed around, but went on without
going near the bait. Dyche let them all go, as he
did not want to shoot and run the risk of scaring
away a bear. But no bear came. Soon after sun-
rise on the third morning Dyche crawled into camp
for a little breakfast and then hastened back. The
bear had been there during his absence. The old
fellow evidently came along a few seconds after
Dyche left, for he had eaten the whole of the bait
which had been left near the trail, and then had
scratched up the earth near by. To nish the per-
formance he had wallowed in the little stream and
passed on over the mountain.

Dyche was tired, sleepy, sore, and stiff, but this
was too much for human endurance and he promptly
started on the broad trail left by the animal. The
bear went along, turning over logs, stones, and
stumps, looking for bugs. Here he wallowed in a
mud- hole to relieve himself from fleas, and there ho
scratched up the earth or stretched himself up on

ST.

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING.

' a bear had
g, shivering
re, but never
vas horrible,
snapped by
birds at last
rche crawled
his way to
ourated him.
id. A band
ox came and
,nd a wildcat
t on without
all go, as he
k of scaring
3n after sun-
id into camp
i back. The
ce. The old
econds after

of the bait
tid then had
nish the per-

stream and

iff, but this
he promptly
nimal. The
stones, and
illowed in a
and there ho
mself up on

a tree. Dycho could not catch up with him, and
at two o'clock in the afternoon he returned to camp
almost worn out. A big buck jumped from cover,
but he let the animal go. A light supper, and a
blank until dawn. A hot breakfast restored him, and
after a whole day spent about the camp he felt like
going on another campaign. A fox and a wildcat
were caught in traps and the skins taken care of, and
then Dyche started out to look at some traps, expect-
ing to be gone about an hour. It was late in the
afternoon when he returned, and from the flush in his
face and his general excitement Brown knew that he
had seen bears. Dyche had had a most wonderful
adventure, and was so wild over it that he could
hardly wait until after supper to tell his story.

" I got to the fox-traps, and as I was looking around
I saw a large bear-trail that was very fresh. The
bears had been here, there, and everywhere. The
ground was dug up as if a drove of hogs had been
rooting and overturning the logs and stones.
There must have been a herd of them, for paths led
through the woods in a dozen different directions.
I took a large circuit in order to find which way they
had gone. I soon found the main trail, which was
as easily followed as if a herd of cattle had been
along there. It went through a number of grassy
parks, down a small stream, up another, and then
over a mountain. I followed as rapidly as possible,
expecting every minute to see them. They spread
destruction in their path. Logs, stumps, and stones
were turned over and ant hills torn to pieces. A
choke-cherry patch was stripped of berries and

^ i

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

leaves. The bushes were torn and stripped and the
tops chewed off, presenting a sorrowful sight. I
determined to get back to camp and start to-morrow
with five days' rations in my haversack, and find
those bears or die in the attempt.

"I wandered along revolving m.y plans in my
mind, and came out of the big woods on a mesa
about two hundred yards wide, flanked on one side
by a heavy forest, while on the other was a sheer
fall of several hundred feet. It was a beautiful
place, and I thought it would be an amusing occupa-
tion to roll stones down the caiion, but was too tired
to put the idea into practice. I was walking slowly
along, looking now and then towards the woods, but
not thinking of seeing anything, when suddenly
there appeared at the edge of the timber a number
of moving objects. I could not make out what they
were, but there was such a number of them I con-
cluded they must be goats. Mexicans sometimes
bring goats up the Pecos River into this country, and
I thought a herd might have been driven out of the
regular trail. As they appeared to be coming
towards me I waited and soon got another glimpse
of them about three hundred yards away. They
were among the trees, and the sun through the leaves
gave them a spotted appearance which convinced me
that they were goats, for many of the Mexican goats
are spotted. I could not see the herder and stood
perfectly still waiting for them to get nearer. Sud-
denly there came out of the forest, directly to the
west of me and not over seventy yards away, a huge
grizzly bear.

3 III

A POSTPONEMENT OF ACTION.

3ed and the

1 sight. I

to-morrow

k, and find

[ans in my
on a mesa
on one side
^^as a sheer
a beautiful
sing occupa-
as too tired
king slowly
e woods, but
3n suddenly
ler a number
it what they
them I con-
3 sometimes
country, and
n out of the
be coming
ther glimpse
iway. They
jli the leaves
onvinced me
'exican goats
ir and stood
carer. Sud-
rectly to the
iway, a huge

"Before I could realise what had happened, out
came another, then a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth,
and a seventh. Just think of it, seven big bears in
sight all at once ! I think there were four more which
I saw, making eleven in all in that band. I knew
I was in a most desperate situation. On one hand
was a bottomless precipice and on the other a herd of
the most ferocious animals which range the moun-
tains. Hoy/ the sweat did roll off of my face ! There
was only one thing to do, and I did it to perfection.
That was to st£.^d perfectly still and let those bears
go about their business. I was hunting bears, but
not these particular bears. There I stood in per-
fectly plain view of those animals, but they did not
see me. They were walking fast, and I had a splen-
did opportunity to observe their mode of travel as
they passed on.

"I no longer wondered at my not being able to
overtake them on the trail. They went swinging
along in a sort of shambling trot or canter almost as
fast as the gait of a horse. Some would stop for a
second at a time, turning over logs and stones, and
then hurry on to overtake the band, which moved
right along.

" As soon as they were out of sight in the woods
to the southwest of me, I hastened to assure myself
that I was still alive and wiped the sweat from my
face. I could easily have put a bullet through any
of them, but what would have happened then? I
might have been set upon by the whole gang and
would not have made a fair meal for one of them. I
made haste to get into the woods and tried to head

t \

''I

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

them off. I wanted to get a shot at them where I
could get shelter in the trees if they attacked me.
They unintentionally outwitted me, however, and
went up a ridge while I was watching a stream."

"Well, I have a scheme," said Brown. "Let me
go back to Harvey's and then down to Las Vegas
and get a big bear-trap, and wo will get a bear, sure.
It will take some time, but it seems that we are
spending more time than anything else, anyway."

" Well, as we need more provisions I guess you'd
better make the trip to-morrow, " was the reply, and
so it was settled. Brown got an early start next
morning and Dyche was left alone. The trip would
take about ten days to go and return. Dyche started
for the woods to see if he could get another look at
his bear herd.

On the evening of the ninth daj'' after Brown left,
Dyche heard the song of a burro down the cailon and
he hastened to get a warm supper for Brown, who
he knew was coming. From the back of old Reuben
dangled a fifty-pound bear-trap. Hot coffee, biscuit,
and broileji steak were soon smoking on the tabic,
and Brown went ravenously to work on them.

"This venison is mighty tough," he remarked.
" It must have been one of the oldest bucks in the
mountains. "

"Take another piece," said Dyche.

" It will be better after we've had it a week or
two," was Brown's comment, as he took an extra
tough bite. "What kind of meat is this, anyhow?
It's the toughest venison I ever tasted."

"Maybe it's fox."

-t

ill

A MONARCH DETHRONED.

■ ■ m

here I
}d me.
r, and
m."
Let me
Vegas
r, sure,
we are

ray."

8 you'd
aly, and
ixt next
p would

9 started
look at

Dwn left,
liion and
wn, who
I Reuben
I, biscuit,
he table,

m.
emarked.

;ks in the

week or
an extra
anyhow?

" Fox nothing. It's more like bvirro-meat, I should
say. I didn't leave any of the jacks here when I
went away, did I?"

Dyche could keep his story no longer and burst out
with : " It's bear-meat, man. A regular old grizzly
at that."

"What? got a bear! Well, If this is a piece of
him it must have been the one old Noah had in the
ark. Well, I'm glad he didn't get you. Where's
the skin? How did you get him?"

" The day j'^ou left camp I started out to look at
that big trail where my herd went along. I thought
there might be some satisfaction in looking at the
track if I couldn't see the bears. The trail was a
day old, but I followed along without exactly know-
ing why. After following it for miles I started back
to camp, and reached a grassy slope on the side of the
mountain and sat down to rest in the edge of it.
There was a willow patch in front, and to the east
of me and across from the willows was an almost
impenetrable forest of spruce trees. Flowing through
an opening in this forest was a little stream which
joined another rivulet flowing from the willows. As
I sat on a log looking across this stream at the spruce
forest I saw something moving among the trees, and
from the glimpse I got of it among the spruce
branches I thought it was a deer. I watched very
carefully, expecting to see a big mule buck step out
into the opening.

" To my great astonishment a huge grizzly bear
stepped from the forest at the opening made by the
httle stream. What a monster he was! He must

•If

i" ' ■ ■

i \

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!l--M

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

have been as big as a cow. The wind was in his
favour, and getting scent of me he placed his front feet
on a log and began sniffing the air. I could see his
big head going up and down, and must confess that
I felt a little chill run over me. The old Sharp's
rifle always seemed so big and heavy before, but now
I wished it was a cannon. I took the best aim pos-
sible, holding my breath to prevent muscular move-
ment, and remembering the advice of my father to
always see that the sights were on the gun before
pulling trigger, then I fired. The gun belched forth
its load with a roar which was echoed by another
roar from the bear.

"Here he came growling, rolling, tumbling, fall-
ing, jumping, and bellowing, making a terrific noise.
I slipped off my shoes, reloaded the gun, placed a
handful of cartridges in the crown of my hat by my
side, and waited. I thought the whole gang might
appear and wanted to be ready for any emergency.
The old fellow came on towards me, and I determined
that if he ever crossed that stream I would give him
another 520-grain bullet. He would get tangled up
in a fallen spruce tree and would tear himself loose
in a most wonderful manner. Now he was in the
willows, rolling and tumbling and biting everything
that was in his way.

"His strength and activity were simply won-
derful. One blow of his mighty paw would have
killed the greatest prize-fighter that ever lived.
I have heard stories of men killing grizzly bears
with their knives, but I don't think it possible
for twenty men to have stood before that bear

A MONARCH DETHRONED.

in his death-agony. I could now see him very
plainly, and could see that he was covered with blood
and was getting weaker and weaker every minute as
he came on towards me. Just as he reached the edge
of the water he spread himself out on all-fours, and
there continued throwing up his head, uttering most
horrible groans and guttural grunts, while I sat cold
and spell- bound under the great excitement. At
last he died, seventeen minutes after he had received
a ball which would have been instant death to an ox.
Then I got up and went over to where he lay.

" He was a monster indeed. Not fat but so mus-
cular. Streams of blood were running from his mouth
where he had broken his great teeth in Lis death-
agony. I was under intense excitement, but I noticed
that his legs were black while his sides and bnck
were of a tawny tint. His tail was very short, so
short, in fact, that he could not even sit down upon it.

" It had been raining all day, but I never noticed
it as I sat on the log watching the dying throes of
the bear. I must confess that I had a pang of re-
morse as I looked down at the dead monster. I had
at last outwitted one of the giants of the forest, but
in his death I had seen the qualities of a grand war-
rior. After finishing my examination of the big
fellow I turned about and went to camp, leaving
him just where he had fallen. I reached the camp
at dark, and would have given a good deal if you
had been here to share the enthusiasm with me.

"' There was no sleep for me that night. I went
over that fearful struggle again and again, and
when I dozed off I would wvake with a start from a

ft %

* : t if

^t.

\ m

CAMP-FIRES OF A .NATURALIST.

t t

frightful dream of the bear. Next morning I was
rested but not refreshed, and after a hurried break-
fast I hastened down the canon where I had left the
dead bear. It seemed at times as if it might all be a
dream— but no, when I got to the spot there he lay,
just as I had left him the night before, dead and
cold. Having spent about two hours in taking
seventy measurements for future reference, I skinned
him. I found that the old fellow had been shot be-
fore, for there were two bullets about the size of a
forty-four Winchester imbedded in his body, one in
his hip and the other in the shoulder. My ball hit
him fairly in the neck, cutting the jugular vein and
passed entirelj'' through the body, coming out about
six inches from the tail near the spine.

" I was almost worn out, but I carried the meat,
skin, and head to the big snow-drift and buried them,
and dragged myself to camp, where I ate a light
supper and then rolled up in my blankets and slept
until dawn next morning."

During the succeeding days Dyche thoroughly
dressed the skin. All fat and flesh were removed
and the feet skinned down to the very toe-nails, and
all ligaments removed from the bones. A prepara-
tion of one part alum and four parts salt was now
rubbed all over the skin. The feet and head were
folded in and then saturated with a strong solution
of the mixture. This operation was repeated in
twenty-four hours and then again in twenty-four,
and the skin was ready to be hung up to dry.

ng I was
3d break-
d left the
it all be a
re he lay,
iead and
1 taking
[ skinned
1 shot be-
size of a
y, one in
f ball hit
vein and
)ut about

he meat,
ied them,
e a light
and slept

loroughly
removed
lails, and
. prepara-
was now
lead were
I solution
)eated in
mty-four,

t'i

ilij

■411

,1
■8

) mu

"They are sure good l)ear knives."

'.hi

CHAPTER V.

Making a New Trail — The Btorm on the Mountain-Top—
Neither Bear nor Elk — A Journey in Utter Darkness —
Catching Foxes — Unwelcome Visitors — Brown's Ava-
lanche — The Bear was Handicapped — An Experience with
Ants and Fleas.

JFTER several days of fruitL s search for
more bears, it was decided that the ani-
mals had left that particular part of the
mountains, and the naturalists concluded
to move camp. Cacheing the surplus meat in a
snow-drift and packing the camp equipment on the
backs of the burros, the little animals were headed
towards the north star, and the party went through
the woods, making a new trail. They did not have
the least idea of where they were going, except that
they wanted better hunting-grounds, where they
might possibly get bear oi elk. It was said in that
vicinity that elk had been seen on the ridge between
the Pecos and Canadian rivers, and this ridge was
made the objective point. Their way led through
heavy spruce timber which lined the ridge, and about
noon they reached an open mesa on the side of the
mountain, which had been burned over. For this
reason travelling was difficult and they were com-
pelled to cut their way.
While working through this down timber, two big

ii'..

I ;

-i
M

!■■

»l

► ^

i 1

ifi

CAMP FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

mule bucks jumped up and started to run, going over
and under the logs with remarkable ease. Getting
sight of one of the bucks as it was going between the
trees about three hundred yards away, Dyche fired,
but with no apparent result. Getting another op-
portunity he shot again. The burros were left and
search made in all directions for the deer; but noth-
ing could be found, and Dyche was just about to give
up when Brown, who had gone on about seventy
yards farther, shouted :

•' Here ! here ! here's your old buck, dead as a door-
nail."

Pushing on up the mountain, camp was made at
dark by a spring on the west slope. This place re-
ceived the name of Camp Wild Bunk, but, owing
to later developments, "was named Hungry Caiion.
Cacheing the greater portion of the venison in a snow-
drift the next morning, they travelled three or four
miles north until the ridge was reached. This was
the watershed between the Rio Grande on the south
and the Arkansas on the north, and led towards the
Jicorilla Mountains, gradually rising and becoming
narrower as it extended above timber-line.

At one o'clock they reached a high point in the
country, and from this place was seen one of the
grandest sights in the high ranges. Off to the west
was a vast ocean of mountain-tops, the timbered
slopes being surrounded by high peaks, running
above timber-line.

The river, winding in the caiion far below, was a
mere thread of silver among the trees, thousands of
feet down. Through a narrow opening of the moun-

THE STORM ON THE MOUNTAIN-TOP.

ng over
Getting
veen the
be fired,
thor op-
left and
Lit noth-
t to give
seventy

3 a door-
made at
place re-
;, ow^ing
Canon,
1 a snow-
1 or four
hiis was
he south
ards the
ecoming

in the

e of the

he west

imbered

running

V, was a
sands of
e moun-

tains was a view of the plains far to the east, which,
with the rough, rock-girt frame, presented a picture
as of the field of the cloth of gold. The purple hills
made a rich, dark foreground, while the golden sun-
light flecked the prairie with the colour of living
fire.

So entranced with the scene were they that the
flight of time was forgotten, and when they returned
to mundane things they realised that if they wished
to camp where there was grass and water, they would
have to be finding a way down to timber-line. Spend-
ing an hour in this effort, they again glanced at the
beautiful scene ; but now all was changed. Amass
of clouds, through which lightning played, and which
grew denser and denser as it came, was rolling up
the valley of the Pecos. Flash after flash could be
seen, and then faintly came the sound of thunder.

The sight was interesting, and as they watched it
their attention was called to the other side of the
range by an answering reverberation. Looking
down the Canadian valley, to the north, they saw
another storm-cloud rolling towards the ridge upon
which they stood. As the storms approached nearer
and nearer they discovered that they would soon be
in the midst of a battle of the elements.

The sky became overcast and it grew dark. The
play of lightning became fiercer and fiercer on both
sides, and the peals of thunder soon merged into one
continuous roar. Peal was answered by peal, and
the echoes took up the terrible sound and sent it on
and on until all space seemed filled with the tumul-
tuous noise. There came a gust of wind, and then

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

for a second a noiseless calm was over all. Then the
.two clouds rushed to the top of the intervening ridge,
and the space between them seemed filled with one
■ continuous sheet of flame. The whole mountain was
the battle-ground and heavenly fire the weapons in
this awful contest , of the elements. Lightning
flashed through the air in all directions. Rocks rolled
down the side of the mountain, while a hail-storm sent
missiles over the valley. The burros huddled to-
gether and trembled at the raging of the elements,
while Dyche and Brown threw themselves flat on the
ground and sor<?ht the shelter afforded by the jut-
ting rocks.

Gradually the uproar ceased. The hail continued
to fall until the whole mountain-top was covered
to a depth of two or three inches. It was some
minutes before the storm, now broken into numerous
smaller ones, left the mountain and permitted the
naturalists to start down to timber and shelter.

Within an hour from the time the storm began,
the whole country was smiling as if nothing had ever
occurred to mar its serenity. Not a breath of wind
ruffled the trees. Far down the mountain appeared
the little lake, no longer vexed by the wind, and
picturing on its breast the wooded hills. A pale
blue haze hung over everything, and covered the
landscape with a veil which, like distance, lent en-
chantment to the view.

A few days spent here proved that there was
neither bear nor elk in this part of the coumry, and
camp was moved, the party going in an easterly di-
rection and travelling all day through a wilderness of

r-if

NEITHER BEAR NOR ELK.

Phen the
g ridge,
vith one
tain was
apons in
ightning
ks rolled
orm sent
idled to-
ilements,
at on the
the jut-

ontinued
1 covered
ras some
mmerous
itted the
ter.

m began,
had ever
of wind
ippeared
ind, and
A pale
ered the
lent en-

lere was
ury, and
sterly di-
erness of

down timber until four o'clock in the afternoon, when
a little park was reached. The whole space in the
park was covered witl, grass and beautiful flower;--,
and, darting here and there through the opening,
were what appeared to be tiny balls of fire. At first
Brown and Dyche were completely mystified, but an
examination showed these fire-balls to be hundreds of
rufous humming-birds darting among the blossoms.
They whirled and flashed through the air, and the
whirring of their wings nmde music like that of
wind among the trees. Camp Humming-Bird, the
place was called. After a day's rest it was deter-
mined to go back to the other side of the range and
see what could bo found in the Canadian valley.

The top of the range was reached by noon. The
place where the dreadful storm had raged a few days
before was now peaceful. The atmosphere was so
clear ti at the distant mountains, seventy-five and a
hundred miles away, seemed to lie within easy walk-
ing distance. At nightfall a fine, perfectly wild,
iron-gray horse, which had evidently broken away
from the confinement of civilisation, was seen in the
timber. This incident was sufficient to give the name
of Wild Horse Camp to the spot, the tent being
pitched by the side of a largo snow-drift.

Late next afternoon Dyche went for a little hunt.
As he passed through a willow park two bucks
jumped and ran through a clump of trees. He took a
flying shot as they disappeared, and as only one
came out on the other side, Dyche was sure he had
not made a miss. The buck jumped up on the side
of the bill, and stood as if waiting for its companion.

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

Dyche trained the rifle across a log and fired at the
deer, fully three hundred yards away. The buck
made several awkward jumps, but did not run.
Again and again he shot, but each time the deer
would jump a little, but would not leave. The sev-
enth shot brought the animal to its knees, and Dyche
made his way to it. He found that one, perhaps the
first, ball had taken off the animal's horns, and so
confused it that it did not run. One ball had creasied
the withers, another cut the brisket, while the Ibst
had broken both the fore-legs.

Brown, h<'aring so much firing, put the pack-sad-
dles on all the burros, for he had never known
Dyche to shoot more than once or twice, and supposed
that he had a large supply of game. The camp was
in a sort of horseshoe inlet in the mountains, and
this j^eculiar formation caused the echoes to come
from many different directions. The result was
that Brown started off almost in the opposite direc-
tion from the spot where Dyche had done his shoot-
ing. Tired of waiting, D3'che started to carry the
deer, and had proceeded some distance before Brown
reached him. Night came on rapidly, and a dense
fog or cloud settled down on the mountjun. They
were over a mile from camp, and it was dark and
raining. Dyche wanted to leave the deer and find
the tent, but Brown objected. He said ho wanted
venison for supper, and would have that deer in camp
if it took all night. The darkness was so intense
that the donkeys would not travel, and Brown was
compelled to go ahead while Dyclio followed in the
rear, h(;)<ling to a burro's tail to keep from getting

m n

A JOURNEY IN DARKNESS.

«8

lost. On they went, stumbling and falling, the deer
slipping from the pack-saddle and causing no end of
trouble, until the whole party was almost exhausted.
The deer fell off so often that Dyche insisted that it
should be left, but Brown was obstinate ai:.l took it
on his shoulders, saying that he must have venison
for supper, and was not going to let a little thing like
that get the best of him. They finally reached the
opening where the tent had been placed, but they had
no idea where it was, and the rain was falling in such
torrents that they could not see their hands before
their eyes.

" You stay with the donkeys, and I will find the
tent," said Brown; and leaving Dyche he started off
through the darkness. Ever and anon he called to
keep his bearings, and then his calls became faint,
and at last he was out of hearing. Dyche tried
to start a fire, but everything was soaking wet,
and all his efforts were fruitless. Brown returned
after a time and announced that he had found
the tent. They travelled about an hour, and
then Brown began to wonder what was the matter.
Ho had placed a lighted candle upright on the floor,
so that the light could bo seen. He made another
excursion and found the tent, discovering that the
candle had fallen down in the mud and the light had
gone out. It was late, but a roaring fire soon dried
and warmed their clothing, while a supper on the
venison refreshed the inner man ; and at three o'clock
in the morning they rolled into bed and slept the
sleep which follows exhaustion.

A whole day's rest next day, Sunday, prepared

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

them for further exertions. The day following,
Dyche was working with his giin, trying to extract
an obstinate shell, when Brown camo hurrying into
the tent with his e3^es dilated and his whole frame
shaking with excitement. He pointed to a bunch of
trees near by, where Dyche saw a magnificent buck,
about seventy-five yards away. Dropping on one
knee ho fired just as the animal was disappearing
amid the timber. The buck was found dead a hun-
dred yards from the place where he was shot.

It was evident that in this part of the country there
was little game which they wanted, and next day the
skins and venison were packed on the donkeys and
the back trail taken. At Camp Wild Horse a stop
was made, and Brown took the donkeys and with all
the spare meat started for Harvey's ranch, leaving
Dyche alone in the mountains. To while away the
time during the seven days of Brown's absence,
Dyche amused himself with trap-setting. He saw
some martens catching conies in the rocks and suc-
ceeded in getting two of them. He carried the big
bear-trap down into the caiion and set it, and went
every morning and evening to see it. A V-shaped
pen of logs was made and the trap set in this. Foxes
were cunning enough to climb over the logs and eat
the bait. To prevent this the top of the pen was cov-
ered with brush, and then the foxes dug holes under
the logs. Dyche now had a time of it to outwit the
little animals. He set traps around the logs, but the
foxes evaded them. Then he set traps away from the
pen and had the satisfaction of catching the robbers.

Six days had passed in this way, and on the morn-

owing,
extract
ig into
frame
inch of
t buck,
on one
pearing
a hun-

L'y there
day the
eys and
I a stop
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vay the
ibsence,
He saw
nd suc-
the big
went
shaped
Foxes
ind eat
as cov-
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wit the
3ut the
rem the
obbers.
morn-

UNWELCOME VISITORS.

ing of the seventh Dyche had started for the bear-ti .""p,
when he saw Brown coming up the caiion.

" How did you _,Qt here so early in the morning? "
was the greeting.

" I got within half a mile of camp last night before
sundown, but clouds and fog settled down so that I
did not like to risk coming on in the dark."

Brown had the mail and plenty of provisions, which
were badly needed, for Dyche had had only two
biscuits since Brown left.

" I had visitors while you were away," said Dyche,
after they had eaten breakfast. " You remember that
camp-fire that we saw down in the valley? Well, I
think the fellows who built that fire came up to boo
me, and from their appearance and actions I think
they meant no good. I saw them coming and made
it a point to be cleaning the guns when they came up.
They talked Spanish, but when they found that I
could not understand it they talked good English and
asked me many questions about my business and why
I was up here. I told them the truth, showed my
specimens, and convinced them that I was all right,
and at last they went away. I was not at all satisfied
with the interview, and when they had gone I started
to hunt and skirted along the edge of the wxhmIs
where I could watch them. They went down into
the valley and met another man who was taking
care of the horses. I think they were a band of
horse-thieves, and I lay behind a log all that night,
and if they had come fooling around thov \> ould liave
had a reception which they did ihit bargain for."

A fine v/hite-tailed bu( ^ whi- h had betm eluding

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

Dyclie for a week fell victim to his gun that after-
noon, and next morning Brown took the shot-gun and
went down the canon. Dyche was looking after his
fox-traps, and had just found one in which there was
a beautiful brown fox when he heard a report down
the carton as if from a cannon. Brown had evidently-
touched off " Old Vesuvius," as the shot-gun had been
christened by the cowboys. Dyche gave a signal
but got no answer. Darkness came, but no Brown.
Becoming much alarmed lest some accident had be-
fallen his companion, Dyche hurried down the canon,
calling now and then but getting no response.
About two hundred yards from camp he heard a
slight noise and called out. A muffled answer was
returned, and then he was sure Brown had been badly
hurt. Hastening down he found. Brown staggering
up the mountain with a big doe on his back. His
face was black and blue and his clothing covered
with hair and blood. A deep scratch ran along the
side of his nose, and taken altogether he was a most
dilapidated-looking object. He had fired both bar-
rels of the gun at once, and, being unused to such
a heavy charge, had been kicked over by the heavily
loaded weapon.

Next day Brown took his insect-net and Dyche
his rifle and they wandered off looking for what they
could find. Dyche was first to return and had sunper
ready when Brown reached camp. Brown had a
good story eo tell and began while they were still
eating :

"Say, Prof, do you remember that old crag of
loose rock wo passed as we came into this caiion?

BROWN'S AVALANCHE.

Well, I was looking for insects around in that vicinity,
but could not find many. After fooling around trj--
ing to kill soT^ie grouso with rocks, I got one by
hitting it on the head. I climl^ed up on that crag.
There was a big rocky mass which was split off from
the rest, and I got a pole and tried to pry it off. I
worked for nearly two hours, for I wanted to see it
go down the mountain. At last it got loose, and how
it did go! I wish you could have seen it. The
big rock started a hundred others and this hundred a
thousand more. You would have thought the whole
top of the mountain had fallen. It frightened me as
I thought there might possibly have been someone at
the bottom of the canon. A cloud of dust and smoke
arobe which had the smell of tho infernal regions,
while the noise was terrific."

When he finished his story Dycho, who had been
listening quietly, said he had had an adventure also.

" When I left camp I went north and then circled
east and worked along the edge of the caiion. Seeing
about a dozen big mule bucks in a band, I started to
stalk them. Working very slowly and crawling
carefully, I got within two hundred yards of them.
There was a bunch of S(;rubby spruce trees about sev-
enty-five yards to the east of them on the edge of the
canon, and I determined to get to that clump, where I
could have my pick of the band. Leaving my hat
and shoes behind, I worked my way along and got
almost there. Twenty-five yards more and the trees
would be reached. I stopped to get my breath a little,
when a regular earthquake seemed to break loose.
An immense crag away up on the side of the moun-

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

tain broke from its place and came down into the
canon. The first stone started hundreds of others,
and these hundreds started thousands more, and they
came down with a terrible noise. Dust and smoke
arose and a smell as of the infernal regions came from
the bottom. When it was over the deer were gone
and I came back to camp."

As Dycho proceeded with his story and ended in
almost the very words of Brown, the latter stopped
eating, his jaw dropped, and when the story was
finished his only comment was :

"Well, I'll be darned!"

Satisfying themselves that no bears were to be
found in this part of the mountain, they started for
old Camp Bear Trail next morning, and late in the
evening they pitched their tent in the familiar spot.
The bear-trap was again set in the canon, but several
days passed without special incident. Dyche and
Brown made a long trip to the west and returned late
in the evening, tired from their exertions. While
Brown took the burros to water, Dyche set about
getting supper, and had it well under way when
Brown rushed into camp, calling :

"What is that roaring in the canon?"

An answer was unnecessary, for the sound was so
plain that both shouted at once :

"A bear! a bear!"

Brown seized the shot-gun without waiting to
see whether it was loaded or not, while Dyche
got the rifle and a handful of cartridges, and away
they went down the cafion. The roaring continued
and grew louder and louder, and the two men

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THE BEAR WAS HANDICAPPED. W

went over bushes, logs, stumps, and even small trees
in their haste. Brown fell over a bush and lost the
shot-gun, but was in too great a hurry to pick it up,
and on he went, shouting at the top of his voice. The
noise was closer now, and appeared to be a cross be-
tween the roar of an African lion and the bellow of an
enraged bull. Then the bear came in sight. He was
going down the canon as fast as the big fifty-pound
trap fastened to his leg would let him. The long
chain was fastened to a twenty-five-foot pole, and
this caught in the rocks and bushes, detaining bruin
in his frantic efforts to get away from his pursuers.

" Shoot him, Professor, shoot him !" yelled Brown.

At the sound of his voice the bear stopped and
looked back. He now tried to get the trap from his
foot by beating it with his paws and biting it until
his mouth was bloody and his teeth broken.

A ball from the rifle knocked the bear down, but
he was up in an instant and was going down the canon
faster than ever. Another ball sent him to grass
again, but he would not stay down, and then a third
ball knocked him over so hard that he could not get
up. He now went through a series of wild contor-
tions, rolling and tumbling, roaring and bellowing
in a most terrible manner. Ho had received his
death- wound and Dyche let him alone to die, wdiich
took about fifteen minutes. Then the naturalists
shook hands, executed their favourite war-dance, and
did numerous seemingly foolish things with which
all hunters can sympathise,. Their victim was meas-
ured and skinned and left where he fell until morning,
for no animal would touch a dead bear.

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

sr :•

Tho excitement of the bear-hunt made them forget
for the time being how tired they were, but now that
it was all over they went slo\vly back to f^et their
supper. In the light with tho boar they had travelled
nearly two miles down the cafion, and were almost
exhausted when camp was reached. In their haste
to get to the bear Brown had forgotten to tie up old
Reuben, and that animal utilised the opportunity by
doing uj) the camp while they were doing up the
bear. Ho first made a raid on the little polo table
made between the trees and cleaned it off. He ate
the apple-sauce and licked the dish. Tho last half-
pound of butter followed this. Tho soap was gone.
A piece of bacon had been pulled down and
mouthed until it was useless. The dish-cloth had
been chewed, and when found the old reprobate had
just finished the batch of hot bread which had been
left baking in tho Dutch oven covered with coals.
Reuben had poked tho cover off without burn-
ing himself and finished the bread. Such inci-
dents are amusing to look back upon or to tell
about, but just at that time it was the straw
which broke the hearts of the naturalists. Reuben's
head was tied close to a tree, where he was left to
repent of his sins, which he undoubtedly did, for
next mornijig he made a light luncheon off of one of
Brown's socks which had been hung on a bush to
dry.

That afternoon a voice was heard calling away
down the canon. Wondering who it could be, Dyclie
and Brown went down to render aid if aid was
needed. It was Clare, who had made the trip up

ANTS AND FLEAS.

into those wild mountains alone. Ho Bhared
Brown's bed on one side of the tent, while Dycho
occupied the other. About midnight the sleepers
were aroused by an appalling din, and Clare bolted
through the tent entrance without waiting to untie
the strings. He stood by the fire yelling at the top
of his voice.

" What's the matter with you? Have you got the
nightmare?" asked Brown.

"Ants! ants in my pants!" yelled Clare, as he
rubbed his legs and tried to dislodge the insects. He
was scolded into returning to bed, and the camp had
barely got settled down again when the racket broke
out once more, but this time it was Brown, and he
was immediately followed by Clare.

"Ants! ants!" they screamed. Dyche grumbled
at them for disturbing him and asked why they could
not make less noise.

"It's Brown that's got the nightmare," said Clare.
" It isn't so funny now." Just then Dyche felt as if
a piece had been bitten out of his leg, and he gave a
jump and shout that told the others that they were not
alone in their misery. The rest of the night was
spent in searching for the voracious insects and
driving them out. The tent had been pitched
near the site of a big ant-hill, but it was supposed
that all the insects had been cleared out. At break-
fast in the morning Brown suddenly dropped his plate
and seized his leg with an exclamation.

" I've got him, sure, this time," he said, and an in-
vestigation revealed no ant, but a big reddish flea.
The whole thing was plain now. There were no ants,
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Sciences
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WEBSTER, N.Y. MSBO

(716) 873-4S03

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

but the bear-skin, which had been deposited near the
tent, was full of fleas, and when the skin got cold the
insects had made an excursion in search of warmth
and food, which they found under the blankets in the
tent.

That evening there was a grand feast in the camp
with bear-meat, brisket of deer, and good appetites.
Then came a general bear talk. Bear-meat was
tough and stringy and jumped under the teeth like a
piece of india-rubber. Some was roasted and some
was boiled, but it was all tough and had a peculiar
flavor.

" Is all bear-meat as tough as this?" asked Brown.

" No. I've eaten the meat of black bear that was
very nice and tender," answered the professor. "It
tasted like pork. I presume a young grizzly would
not be bad eating."

" How big do bears get?" asked Clare.

" Well, that's hard to tell. According to some re-
ports they occasionally exceed two thousand pounds,
but I don't think there are many so large. From the
best information I am able to obtain I don't believe
they get larger than twelve hundred pounds. I was
told by an old hunter that he saw a bear in Califor-
nia that weighed between eleven and twelve hundred
pounds and it was a monster. It was kept in captiv-
ity and had been fed every day until it was very fat."

" How large do black bears get?"

" Ordinarily between two hundred and three hun-
dred and fifty pounds. I heard of one taken in
Idaho which weighed four hundred and twenty-five
pounds."

t\ux uiii ' mAa w iMiim

BEAR TALK.

" How many kinds of bear are there in this coun-
try?" asked Clare.

"Only two, the grizzly and the black."
" Well, how about the silver-tip and the cinnamon?"
" I was just going to say that the cinnamon is a
variety of the black, while the silver-tip is a smaller
form of the grizzly. Bears vary greatly in size, even
when full grown. They also vary much in colour,
ranging from a light yellowish-brown to almost jet-
black. I have seen the skins of young grizzlies al-
most as light-coloured as wolves. The feet and lower
part of the legs are, however, dark, shading from
black to various tints of brown. The colour also de-
pends on the season. In the spring the old shaggy
hair ia much lighter than the new fall coat. This
wide range in colour and size of the grizzly has done
much to encourage the notion that there are different
kinds of grizzlies in the United States. The cinna-
mon or brown l)ear seems to be only a colour variety
of the black. Those who claim that these bears are
different species say that the black and cinnamon
cross and make the different colours. This is really
an argument against the claimants, for different spe-
cies of animals do not cross. If they did they would
merge finally into one single species. The silver-tip
seems to be a well-marked variety of the grizzly."

" How could one tell a silver-tip grizzly from a cin-
namon?" asked Brown.

" A grizzly can usually be distinguished by the fact
that his front claws are twice as long as his hind
ones. They sometimes reach the length of five inches.
In the black or cinnamon there is not such a marked

I u

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

difference. The colour of black or brown bears is
more uniform throughout, while the colour of the griz-
zly is variegated. The grizzly also has a more dis-
tinct mane, which stands up between the shoulders,
sometimes reaching a length of five or six inches.
The feet of the grizzly are always broad and thick as
compared with those of the black bear."

" How large are bears when they are born?"

"About the size of Norway rats. The old bear
generally has twins and sometimes triplets. An
Indian gave me some young ones which he said were
about two weeks old. They were about the size of
Newfoundland puppies."

" Do bears hibernate?" asked Brown.

" Yes, after a fashion. Not in the ordinary sense
of the word. They do not get torpid. They usually
*den up' in the colder parts of the winter. These
dens are simply nests of leaves and grass under the
roots of some overturned tree. Here the bear stays
until the weather gets warm, unless he is disturbed,
and then he is 'up and coming.' "

" Do bears voluntarily attack people?" asked Clare.

" If you suddenly came upon an old female with
cubs she would probably show fight just as a cow
moose, an old sow, or any domestic animal would. A
wounded bear will aJso fight just the same as any
other wounded animal."

" You don't mean to say that all those stories about
bears attacking people are false, do you?" asked
Brown.

" Most of them are undoubtedly so. Bears are the
most cunning animals in the mountains. I have

BEAR TALK.

come upon their beds while they wore still warm, but
the bears were gone without my even getting a
glimpse of them. No matt^er how sly I am, they are
pretty sure to hear me and go scurrj'ing through the
woods as fast as their legs will carry them. Their
senses of hearing, smelling, and seeing seem to be
marvellously developed."

" What do they feed on?"

" That depends to a considerable extent upon the
country in which they live. Like the hog, they take
anything they can get. They will take meat, rob birds'
nests and suck the eggs, catch frogs, eat fish ; they are
very fond of vegetables, berries, and tender roots, and
they will eat ants and other insects and even worms.
They are very fond of acorns and go a long way after
them. In Washington and British Columbia they
desert the mountains when the salmon are running
and live along the streams."

The hunt was now over and the skins and meat
were packed to Harvey's ^^anch, where the naturalists
said farewell to their frienus and returned to civili-
sation.

8k
'/I

CHAPTER VI.

A Peculiar Wedding- Journey — Field Taxidermy — A Typical
Mountaineer — Big Bear Talk — The Cabin was Looted — A
Lost Timepiece — A Great Day for Talking.

jLL was bustle in Paradise Valley one May
morning two years after the events nar-
rated in the preceding chapter. Harvey
was reading to Mrs. Harvey and Allie
a letter, the gist of which was as follows :

" Meet me with the burros. I have two compan-
ions and am coming to spend the summer with you."
It was from Dycho, and this announcement was
the cause of the commotion. Everyone was impa-
tient for the pack-train to bo off, even old Reuben
seeming to know that something out of the ordinary
had happened, for instead of hanging back and caus-
ing trouble when the train started, he walked sedately
to his place and waited for his saddle.

Dyche and his companions had travelled the
twenty-five miles from Las Vegas to the foot of the
mountains in a wagon, and were now waiting for
the arrival of the pack-train from the mountain
ranch. Their baggage had been dumped on the
ground at the edge of a little Mexican village on the
banks of the Qallinas River, and here they made their
camp. The home life of the Mexicans, as seen from
the door of their tent, served to while away the time

iiiM

A PECULIAR WEDDINQ-JOURNEY.

of waiting. The fact first observed was that every
mau and woman in the village was an inveterate
cigarette-smoker. The children had driven their
herds of goats to the mountains and the lazy oxen were
drawing their creaking and groaning carts or haul-
ing heavy logs to the sawmill, which puffed and
buzzed a short distance down the river. Fires were
started in the big out-door beehive oven ready for
the week's baking, and village life was in full blast,
when the campers were startled by a loud hail in a
voice that to Dyche had a familiar ring.

" Ha-o, there ! Como le va?"

"Como le va yourself."

"Who's this you've got with j^ou?"

"This is my wife. I'm married now," replied
Dyche.

" Well, I want to know I So you're married ! And
you thought you would come to the finest country in
the world for your wedding-trip?"

" I see that you haven't lost old Reuben yet,"

"Lost him? Why, you couldn't lose him if you
tried. He's just the meanest old burro in the whole
country. He steals eggs and eats young chickens
every chance he gets. If you and Brown had killed
him for a specimen, when you were here, it would
have saved me much trouble and bad temper. I had
to bring him along, for I darsn't leave him at the
ranch."

" Well, why can't Mrs. Dyche ride him to the
ranch? He's gentle enough and she will be in no
danger in going over the trail."

No sooner suggested than acted on, and the saddle

i '

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

,.*'

was put on the old burro, and for the next six miles
Mrs. Dyche exercised her arms trying to make him
keep in the trail and up with the other donkeys. He
had a mind of his own and would wander off to lunch
on tempting bits of grass away from the trail. Her
feeble efforts at punishment had about as much effect
on him as tickling with a straw. Finally he was
put in the middle of the train and better time was
made. The ranch was reached by noon, and by night
the party had become thoroughly domiciled, ready
for the summer's campaign.

The object of this year's trip was to put into
practical operation an idea of Dyche's regarding field
mounting of birds. The camp was placed by the side
of a cool spring which gushed from the edge of a
patch of quaking asps, while on the west was a heavy
body of spruce. Stretching to the south for two or
three hundred yards was a fine grassy meadow,
merging into a jungle of willow and tag-alder
bushes covering a piece of swampy ground. A
small wall-tent was devoted to taxidermic operations,
and soon became known as the museum. This tent
faced south, overlooking the meadow, and was pre-
pared for any emergency. Shelves arranged in one
comer held the mounting outfit, which included a
bunch of wire, a can of alum and arsenic, a bottle of
benzine, a can of plaster-of -Paris, a case of the size
and shape of a cigar-box containing a complete
assortment of tools for skinning and mounting birds,
a roll of manilla paper, and a few other articles.
Under these shelves were kept rolls of cotton -batting
and excelsior. A pole table served as an operating-

^gtjf^mmmm

FIELD TAXIDERMY.

desk, while a hollow log, sawed to the proper length
and covered with buckskin, furnished the seat. On
one side was a pole platform on which mounted birds
were stored, while a similar one held the guns and
ammunition ready for instant action. By noon on the
second day the whole place was complete, and they
were ready for anything of the bird kind from an
eagle to a "hummer."

Two beautiful long-crested jays perched them-
selves on a limb in front of the tent and began an
inspection which cost them their lives, and they were
first to be immolated on the shrine of science. The
advantage of field taxidermy was shown in the first
day's work. The operator was not compelled to rely
upon either memory or notes to ascertain the correct
positions of birds, but from his desk could look into
the trees and see the counterpart of the one in hand
and thus get the natural poses and positions. This
practice soon convinced Dyche that the live bird in
its natural habitat was the only safe guide to be
followed. Another point gained by field-work was
in mounting many of the smaller birds which had
such tender skins that it was next to impossible to
carry them long distances before mounting. This
was especially noticeable in the hummers, which,
every taxidermist knows, are exceedingly difficult
to mount after becoming dry. Ordinarily many
skins are spoiled by oil oozing from the shot-holes,
but when they are mounted immediately this can be
obviated with little difficulty. Doves and pigeons,
which are so difficult to mount from dry specimens,
were handled very readily, and the fresh skins were

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found to bo tough enough fcr nil practical pur-
poses.

The month of June, which was thus devoted to
field-work, passed very quickly, and one hundred and
fifteen birds stood on the pole table ready for trans-
portation down the mountain. But this was a prob-
lem which had not yet been solved. How were the
mounted specimens to be carried down the twisting
trail and over the hundreds of miles of railroad
without injuring them? Dycho had an idea about it
before he came, and several cracker and soap boxes
had been taken apart and carried up the mountain
and were now put together. The birds had been
mounted on a T-shaped stand, and the cross-piece of
the T was now taken off and placed on the bottom
of the box, holes in which permitted the passage of
wire. This wire passed over the cross-piece and was
securely fastened belov*^. Adjusting the birds at
such an angle as to occupy the least space, a layer
covered the bottom of the box and then cleats were
screwed on and a shelf or tray, also covered with
birds, was placed in, the process being continued
until the box was filled. The lid was screwed on and
the whole neatly covered with canvas, giving to it
the appearance of an ordinary satchel, to which
handles were attached. In addition to the hundred
and fifteen mounted birds a large cracker-box was
filled with dry skins, the larger ones being rolled in
cotton and fastened in the box so that they could not
crowd each other, and the smaller ones being placed
in cylinders made of heavy manilla paper, to which
they were secured by long pins passing through the

A TYPICAL MOUNTAINEER.

paper into the bird-skin. These boxes wore carried
over trails and on the cars as hnnd-baggage. Eames,
the student who was with Dyche tliis year, fashioned
a pack-saddle for his shoul lers, and marched ahead
of the pack-animals with the two l)oxes of mounted
birds. Arriving at their destination, it was found
that the journey of several hundred miles had done
no damage to the frailest sjiecimen.

Dyche concluded to give his wife a tasto of real
mountain life, and just as he was considering a
trip to Camp Bear Trail, Bci*hy, the mica-miner,
came up from Las Vegas on his way to his ranch,
which was established at the head-waters of the
Pecos, about ten miles from the ridge on which
Dyche and Brown had passed through the terrible
elwtrical storm. The miner gave them such a hearty
invitation to accompany him liome that they ac-
cepted, and he promised the best hunting and fishing
in the country. The hardships of a three-days' jour-
ney over the roughest part of the mountains did not
deter Mrs. Dyche, and early one morning the start
was made, old Reuben carrying Mrs. Dyche. With
Beaty in the lead picking out the trail and Dyche
in the rear to punch up stragglers, they went up the
mountains, Beaty . beguiling the way with many
quaint stories.

All signs of a trail finally faded away and merged
into a tangled network of underbrush and fallen
timber. Dyche offered Beaty a small hand axe with
which to cut his way, but the latter declined, and
drawing an immense knife from his belt, remarked :
"This is sure the thing for that kind of work.

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89 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

This is Biiro n g(X)d knifo. I made it myself out of
a drill, and I inado this one t<30," drawing its mate
from his lx)lt. The blades were twelve inches long
and of finely tempered steel. "They're sure bear
knives,. and long enough to reach a bear's heart. If
a bear ever comes across this old man he will sure
feel this knife in his heart. See these buckhom
handles? I sure made them and killed the buck that
wore the horns. "

Beaty was a typical moimtaineer, and as he stood
flourishing the big knives above his big sombrero,
with his buckskin coat, ho looked a fit match for any
bear that walked the range. His continued talk of
what he would "sure" do and Dyche's knowledge
of the power of the grizzly bear, made the latter a
little dubious as to the outcome of a fight with Beaty
and a bear as chief actors, but he kept his counsel
and drew the mountaineer out until the woods were
filled with the sound of his big bear talk.

The first day passed pleasantly, barring the many
"unpleasantnesses" between Reuben and his rider,
and camp was made by the side of a spring in a
grassy meadow. The second day took the party
through a long stretch of burned timber; the donkeys
caused much trouble by continually running into
snags and tearing their packs. Camp was made on
the slope of the mountain, near a bunch of quaking
asp and spruce trees. As the train approached the
spot an old hen grouse flew up, and while the sup-
per was being prepared the young grouse could be
heard "peeping" in the grass and bushes. Mrs.
Dyche could not rest until the little fellows had been

1 -—

Bia BEAR TALK. M

caught and snuggled under a blanket, where they
siMjnt the night cosily; and next moniing when
they all ran about, alive and .j y\ Dyche did
not regret having spent an hour on i is hands and
knees in search of them the night before. The
mother grouse flew down from j eighbouriug tree as
tiie train moved away, and Mrs. Dyfiu^'s heart was
made glad with the knowledge ihn ' the grouse family
was reunited.

"Do you see that pile of stones?" asked Beaty,
pointing to a heap of small rocks which had evidently
been thrown together for some purpose. '* A few
years ago it was sure very dry on the plains, and
Mexican herders brought their sheep up into the
mountains where they could get grass and water.
One old man had $10 in his pocket and he was killed
and robbed by some of his companions. When his
friends carried his body out, wherever they stopped
to rest they would make a little pile of stones, and
now whenever a Mexican passes along he adds a
stone to the pile and says a prayer for the rest of the
murdered man's soul."

" Is that the reason there are so many little stone
piles throughout New Mexico?" asked Dyche.

" No, not always. They are made to commemo-
rate some incident. They've sure got some queer
superstitions, and one of their religious ones is the
queerest."

"What's that?"

" A lot of them go up on Hermit's Peak, over there,
and crawl around on their hands and knees among
the cactus bushes and on the stones, exposing them-

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

selves to hunger and thirst. They sure die from it
sometimes."

" Why do they call it Hermit's Peak?"

" An old Mexican hermit used to live there, and
when the people went there they took him things to
cat. They say he had a gold-mine up there and he
sure had lots of gold. He hid it all away when he
left, and it has never been found. There's sure gold
there, but I've not found it yet. I've got colours,
though."

So Beaty beguiled the way with his stories, and as
they were going down into a grassy valley he sud-
denly stopped the train and called out :

" See that willow thicket there? Well, I sure saw
a bear there. You see that old log there? Well,
when I got there I heard a mighty noise in
those willows and four bears came out all at once.
I thought they had it in for the old man, but I
just threw myself down by tho side of that big
log, iorked out both knives, and if the bears had
come I sure would have done some of them. When
they saw that I was sure ready for them they got
out of there in a hurry. As I lay there four bears
went hustling up the other side of the mountain.
This is sure a great country for bears."

Late in the afternoon, when within a few rods of
the cabin of the miner, the train was again called to
a halt, and Beatj', pointing to a large tree, said :

"See that tree there? I met an old gr'-'^ly
there. I'd been fishing and was coming to the
ranch. I had thirty fish on a stringer, not one less
than twelve inches long, and was within thirty feet

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THE CABIN LOOTED.

of a bear before I saw him. I skinned up that
tree in a hurry, and that bear came along and
ate up every one of those fish and then licked the
stringer. He then looked at me and walked ofiP
about his business as if nothing had happened."

"Why didn't you kill him with your big bear
knives?" asked Dyche.

" I had left my knives at the cabin or there would
have been the worst bear-fight ever seen in these
mountains."

"He would have killed you, Beaty, before you
could have hurt him with a knife."

" He would have had some fun doin' it. I would
have thrown myself down on my back. That is
sure the way to fight a bear. When he came up
I would have plunged both knives into him. It
would sure have fixed him too."

All this bear talk had a depressing effect upon
Mrs. Dyche, and as the party moved on towards the
cabin they saw that a bear had recently been there.
The little garden had been torn up and the big tracks
could be seen everywhere.

"See, there are bears here. The woods are full
of them."

Unlocking the door of the little two-roomed cabin,
Beaty stepped inside, but at once bounced out with
his eyes distended and his whole face showing great
excitement.

" I've sure been robbed. Somebody's taken every-
thing I had, even my gun and pistol. There ain't
enough left for one meal. I'll follow them if I
ever strike their trail they'll bo mine."

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He raved and howled until the air seemed to take
on a pale blue tinge and smelled sulphurous. Mrs.
Dyclie concluded it would be well to go down and
watch the water run in the river while Dyche tried
in vain to calm the enraged miner. The cabin had
been completely looted, to all appearances. Beaty
pointed to places where he had had a ham or a side
of bacon hanging or where a can of syrup stood, but
these places were all vacant now. He took a wide
circuit around the place to find a trail, but all in
vain. The only tracks to be seen were those made
by Beaty himself during his last visit. Down by the
river were seen small tracks, like those of a woman,
and Beaty came in full of the idea that he had dis-
covered the whole plot.

" There was a white man with a Mexican woman
and they had a train of burros, for they could never
have carried off all that stuff on their backs. I will
sure find them if it takes my whole life. "

All night long the visitors could hear their host
grumbling, and ever and anon he would break out
with oaths that would make Mrs. Dyche shudder.
Beaty was up early and started off down the Pecos
River to his nearest neighbour, twenty-five miles
away, in hopes of getting some trace of the despera-
does. Dyche and his wife concluded that it would
bo best to get out of the countrj'* themselves, and
notwithstanding they had just had a hard three-days'
trip up the mountains, they started back for Harvey's
ranch. They had plenty of provisions and the river
was full of fish, but the talk about bears and the
experience with robbers were too much for Mrs.

I' l\

THE CABIN LOOTED.

Dyche. The first night on the way down some wild
animal frightened the donkeys so that they rushed
into camp for protection and kept the travellers
awake the balance of the night. Next day they left
the main trail and went off to Bear Trail Camp.
It seemed like getting home again to Dyche. Two
years had passed since the last visit, but everything
was just as he had left it. An old dish-rag still
hung on a peg in the tree, while on the pole table
sat the wooden bowl, carved out with so much pa-
tience by Brown. Cans and tin pans wore hanging
in their accustomed places, while even the firewood
which had been placed in a dry nook was still there
ready for the fire. Sticking from the roots of the
tree was the neck of a bottle of syrup, now greatly
improved with age. The two were soon comfortable,
and after five days' continuous travelling on a rough
trail the rest was welcome.

Dyche knew every foot of ground around the camp
as well as he did his father's pasture, and he started
out to find a deer. Mrs. Dyche had seen so many
bear signs that she insisted that he should not go out
of hearing. There were so many evidences in the
great holes where bears had wallowed, or where they
had turned over the logs and stones, or scratched
the trees, that she was sure she saw a bear in every
blackened stump on the mountain. Late in the
afternoon Dyche was sitting at the edge of a little
meadow, concealed by a bunch of willows.

Just as the sun touched the western mountain-
tops a deer came to the edge of the woods about three
hundred yards from where Dyche was sitting. The

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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animal was very cautious and stepped along care-
fully, watching for the least sign of danger. He
finally stepped from the timber and began nipping
the leaves and grass and feeding towards where the
hunter was concealed. He fed along so slowly that it
became a race between the deer and the sun. At last
the sun disappeared and darkness came on rapidly.
Dyche was uneasy lest his wife should drop a pan or
make some other noise which would startle the deer.
It became so dark that the sights on the rifle were
not distinguish, ble, and when the deer came within
fifty yards Dyche fired his shot-gun. The animal
gave several great jumps and Dyche did not wait to
see if his shot had been fatal, but he sent a ball from
the rifle after it and the deer sank to the ground.
Calling Mrs. Dyche, who took charge of the guns,
he dressed the deer and carried it to camp. A hot
supper of venison liver, biscuits, coffee, and syrup
convinced them that they had chosen well in coming
to the mountains. Two days were spent at Camp
Bear Trail, and they lived as happily as if they had
been domiciled at some summer hotel.

When they had left Harvey's ranch, eight days
before, the place was comparatively quiet, with
only Harvey, his wife, and Allie there. As they ap-
proached on their return, however, they were made
aware of the fact that a change had come since their
departure. Voices, loud and strong, could be heard
long before they reached the clearing. At the house
they found several mountaineers sitting around,
"swapping lies" about their varied adventures.
There was Fly, the mica-miner, he of the strong

A GREAT DAY FOR TALKING.

frame and equally strong lungs. He was a talker,
and the tones were of such a pitch and volume that
the tops of the highest hills echoed them back. Then
there was Levette, called for short "Cockeye."
Levette wanted to talk and was continually trying
to get in a word, but he was entirely too slow for the
crowd he was now with. The inevitable " I was
just goin' to say" never got beyond his tongue's end
until some readier talker broke in, and it was ne^ er
known what he was going to say. Eames, who had
never been defeated in a talking-match, was there,
and then there was Harvey, who had had forty-nine
years' experience at it. All had something to say,
and none cared what the others had done; so the
result was that all talked at once. Dyche was some-
what of a talker himself, and when he got into the
crowd he was anxious to tell of his experience at
Beaty's cabin. The result of all this was that when
Mrs. Harvey announced that the haunch of venison
was sufficiently baked and that dinner was ready,
there were xlve men all talking at the top of their
voices, each sandwiching in his story wherever he
got an opportunity. While Mrs. Harvey and Mrs.
Dyche stood in the door of the kitchen laughing at
the exertions of the talkers, in walked Beaty.

Now Boaty carried off the palm as a talker in that
region, and when he began all others were compelled
from the sheer force of necessity to stop. Beaty had
a story to tell and he told it. His voice soon made
itself felt in the general pandemonium, and the
others gradually quieted down until he had the floor
to himself. But he talked under difficulties. He

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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would hardly get started before someone would break
in, and then all would go at it again.

" You remember when I left you, Professor. Well,
it was just eight o'clock in the morning, and at just
two o'clock in the afternoon I was at the ranch,
twenty-five miles down the Pecoo. "

Hero Fly broke in : " That was no walking. In
California I walked from Elk Creek down to Gold
Gulch, forty-two miles, in just eight hours and "

Here someone else broke in, and the story of some
great walk had to be told by each one, and Beaty
was compelled to wait until the flood passed and
then started fresh again.

" At the ranch I found my old partner, Everhart,
and he told me that he heard I was sick down to
Vegas. He sure sent a boy up to the ranch to look
after things until I could get back. The boy stayed
there about a week and then a big bear came around
the place and would not go away, although he shot
at it through the window. The boy was scared, and
dug a hole under the floor and buried everything in
the cabin in the hole. He took all the dirt down to
the river and threw it in and smoothed the place over.
Sometimes he wore a pair of my old shoes and made
big tracks around the place. "

"Well, I want to know!"

" By the great wars !"

" I was just goin' to say "

" I thought yoa could have smelled it."

"You couldn't smell anything but brimtitone
around there when Beaty got there."

" That boy knew what he was about."

h {'I

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A GREAT DAY FOR TALKING.

" He sure fooled the old man."

And so the changes were rung on all the exclama-
tions the crowd could think of. The talk continued
on this subject until dinner was over, and then as a
fine, drizzling rain was falling, conversation drifted
into other channels, while the men crowded around
the big fireplace. Harvey started the ball by laughing
at Fly's hunt after a bear.

" When you and Brown took those two big bears
out of the country and told of tho eleven others you
had seen, these fellows up here thought you didn't
know a thing about hunting or you would have got
the whole lot. What they know about hunting bear
or anything else I don't know, but from the way they
talked you would have thought the wootls were full
of bear-hunters. Fly, Beaty, Levette, and some others
got up a big bear-hunt, and from the preparations
they made one would have supposed they were going
to have all the game in the woods. They were each
going to have a boar-skin overcoat, and Rhea and
me were each going to have a skin apiece for rugs.
They borrowed every old shooting-iron on the place
except that old cap-and-ball pistol of mine and started
out. They wouldn't take provisions with them, for
they said it was a mighty poor hunter that couldn't
kill his own meat. They all 'lowed that the pro-
fessor was a good deer-hunter, but he didn't know a
little bit about bear. As they pulled out up the hill.
Fly he hollered back to Rhea and said : 'When you
see us coming down the mountain put the skillet on
with plenty of grease, for we'll have bear-liver for
supper.'

99 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

" Well, when they got away I took your old bear-
trap down the caiion and set it. A bear had been
around the night before where a calf had died, and I
thought I might got him in the trap. We got a
bear in the tiap sure enough, and when they came
down the mountain Rhea had a good mess of liver in
the pan frying for them. Talk about hungry wolves.
Those fellers were the hungriest set you ever saw.
They hadn't had a square meal since they left, and
as soon as they got in the house they began grabbing
everything in sight. They couldn't wait for dinner,
but took cheese, crackers, and everything else they
could lay their hands on. Well, they sat down and
began eating. They couldn't tell what kind of meat
it was. They thought it tasted like liver, but knew
I hadn't butchered, and when they asked, we told
them it was the bear's liver they told us to cook."

The others here broke in with 30 many interrup-
tions that Harvey was compelled to desist. But he
had told his story, and now it was Fly's time to tell
what he knew.

" I'll tell you that story straight. I ve been listen-
ing to them talk for the last two years and I've got
the whole thing straight. I'm onto the true in-
wardness of the whole business. We had a hard
time up in the mountains after the bear we didn't
get, and when we got back we had the bear-liver for
supper all right enough, but you never saw two such
scared people in all your born days as Harvey and
his wife. I knew there was something back of their
story, so I just kept my ears open, and this is the
story of 'how we killed the bear.'

A GREAT DAY FOR TALKING.

ine

" Harvey set the trap down the cafi'on and an old
foolish black bear came along and got his foot in
it. Next morning Harvey went down to milk, and
when he saw that the trap was gone he ran back and
went clear through the house before he could stop.
He dropped the milk-pails and went yelling at every
jump, so badly scared that he almost fainted. Mrs.
Harvey was so frightened that she couldn't say a
word. Harvey ran to the gun-rack and then began
cussin' us fellows for taking away all his guns. Then
he tore around in the bedroom and out in the kitchen
until Mrs. Harvey found her voice and asked:
'What's the trouble. High?' *A bear! a bear!' was
all the answer she got, for just then Harvey found
his pistol and bolted oflf down after the bear. Mrs.
Harvey followed with the axe, calling for High to
come back or he would be killed.

" They rushed down to the corral where the trap
had been, and sure enough it was gone. 'It was
right here, Rhea. See, it is gone. Look where he
tore up the brush. There he is — there he is ! Get
back, Rhea; you don't know anything about hunting
bear. Get back, I say : if he should get here he would
kill you, ' Harvey kept yelling at the top of his voice,
and then Mrs. Harvey would chime in, telling Harvey
to keep back or he would be killed. She grabbed his
arm and hung on, telling him not to go close to the
bear, and then AUie came running down to see what
it was all about, and Mrs. Harvey had a time of it
trying to keep them both from the bear. Harvey
shot all six loads from the revolver into the bear, but
it never stopped him. Then they had to go back to

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

the house to load up again. Mrs. Harvey begged
High to let Allie go over to Hanson's ranch for
help, and this made Harvey mad, because she thought
he was not able to kill his own bear. Harvey put
six more balls into the bear, and by this time the
poor fellow got tangled up with the trap-chain and
Harvey knocked him in the head with an axe."

" Well, I want to know !" said Harvey. ** Do you
believe that story, Dyche?"

" Well, I don't know how you killed it, Harvey, but
I do know that you sent me a fine black bear-skin
with a dozen bullet-holes in it. The skull had been
mashed, too."

Dyche decided to make another trip to old Camp
Bear Trail before the summer was over. The even-
ing before the start was made Dyche took the shot-
gun, loaded with dust-shot, and went around the
meadow looking for bird specimens. Eames was
carrying the rifle and wandered off to one side.
Suddenly Dyche heard the well-known "thump,
thump" of a frightened deer as it dashed through
the wood, and he hurried to the edge of the timber to
get a look at it. An old doe was just disappearing
in the woods, and about thirty yards behind her was
a beautiful fawn. About the same distance back of
the fawn was Eames, going at break-neck speed,
shouting at the top of his voice, " Here, here it is,
Professor !" The doe bounded over the pole fence,
and the fawn ran along trying to find a hole to go
through.

"Quick, give me the rifle," said Dyche.

"The rifle? why, I set it down by the fence and

A GREAT DAY FOR TALKING.

tried to catch the fawn. I'd have got it, too, if it
hadn't been for the fence."

" Catch the wind ! Why, that fawn can outrun
any man. The old doe would have been as easily
caught. "

" Don't you fool yourself. Fd have caught it,
sure. "

"Our old dog Jack has tried to catch thofc fawn
a dozen times," said Allie, "but ho never gets any
nearer to it than you were."

A disagreeable incident marred the pleasure of the
final visit to Camp Bear Trail, and Mrs. Dyche had
occasion to learn by experience what a real mountain
storm could do. While the train was passing
through a tract of burned timber, where there was
no shelter of any kind, a f torm broke suddenlj'-, the
first warning being a clap of thunder. It rained a
little and then hail poured down as if from an ele-
vator chute. Eames and Dyche bunched the burros
and covered them with rubber blankets, and under
this hastily improvised shelter Mrs. Dyche crawled,
staying until the storm was over. It lasted for half
an hour and then continued with intermissions,
alternately raining and hailing all the afternoon.
It was late in the evening when a fire was started
at the old camp, and, suffering with toothache,
earache, and headache, Mrs. Dyche longed for civ-
ilisation.

Rain continued so steadily that they decided to
return to Harvey's, and the party reached there, wet,
bedraggled, and worn out. While making their
arrangements to return to civilisation, the mountain

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

streams were running torronta from the heavy rains.
Over the top of Hermit's Peak rushed a magnificent
waterfall, about eight feet broad at the top, changing
to a fine mist before it reached the bottom of the
caSon, a thousand feet below.

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15

CHAPTER VII.

In Indian Territory — A Frontier Fiddler — Life in a Dugout —
Wild Turkeys, Wildcats, and other Wild Things — Surviv-
ing a Blizzard — An Indian Dance — An Embarrassed Pro-
fessor—Successful Hunting — The Extinction of the Wild
Turkey.

[n^N the approach of the next Christmas va-
cation, Dyche arranged to make a collec-
tion of the noblest game-bird in the
world, the American wild turkey. With
Professor Robinson, a veteran quail and rabbit hunter,
he started for the Indian Territory, and a raw Decem-
ber day found the two at Caldwell, Kansas, wrestling
with a mob of hackmen and omnibus drivers. This
was the terminus of the railroad leading to the land
of the Indians.

Engaging a light wagon, drawn by a stout pair of
" buckskin" ponies, they reached Pond Creek just at
dusk on the following day. A " dance" was in pro-
gress, and had been going on for the last twenty-four
hours. A tall Arkansan, called " Short" on account
of his size, was sawing away industriously at a fiddle,
producing sounds which, by a good stretch of a vivid
imagination, might be called music. The vigour
of the dancers was evidence that his well-meant
efforts were fully appreciated by the congregated
cowboys and their partners. It was the event of the

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season, and visitors were there from ranches miles
away. Cowboys and Cherokee half-breeds were out
in full force, and, to supply a deficiency of ladies,
dresses were put on several of the cowboys, who acted
the feminine part to the satisfaction of all.

"Short don't play music outen er book," volun-
teered tho lady of the house, " but he plays real tunes.
He don't know a note from a cow-track, but he gets
everythin' outen er fiddle there is in it, he does. He's
ther best fiddler in the hull country, he is, and he
allers stops till ther dance is dorio^ too, he does. This
is nothin' now. You jest orter bin here las' night.
There were over fifty here, and ther cowboj'S thet
danced for girls was real good ones, too. It was
ther best dance we ever had. Some er ther boys got
a little too much licker, but jver'thin' went off real
nice."

Short continued his fiddling, and the cowboys kept
time to the rhythm by patting their feet and hands,
making such a noise that the tired travellers could not
sleep. During the progi*ess of the entertainment a
deputy sheriff came in with a prisoner, whom he
was taking to Caldwell to jail. The oflficer got so
interested in tho dancing that he forgot his prisoner,
and the latter coolly walked out of the door and dis-
appeared. He was not missed for some time, and
then search Avas made for him with a lantern, but he
made good use of his time and was not found.

Thompson's ranch, on the Cimarron River;, sixty
miles away, had been determined upon as headquar-
ters for the hunt, and as the noise of tho dancing pre-
vented sleep, Dyche and the professor started early,

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LIFE IN A DUGOUT.

and at daybreak were on the banks of the river. The
road went directly to the water's edge, and conld be
seen emerging from the other side, almost imme-
diately opposite. Confident that they were at the
ford the hunters drove in. The water was soon up
to the sides of the horses, and the wagon was almost
floating. There was evidently a mistake somewhere,
but there was nothing to be done but go on, and after
a hard struggle the opposite bank was reached. They
afterwards learned that the road went down the river
some distance before it crossed, and then came back
on the other side to the point where it could be seen.

Thompson's ranch was reached at dark. The
house, or dugout, was a hole in a bank with a door
in front, but no windows. It was filled with cow-
boys, who were very hospitable and helped to care for
the ponies and got supper for the travellers. Pipes
were brought out after supper, and the ill-ventilated
room was soon so filled with smoke that Dyche and
the professor, who were not smokers, were compelled
to make frequent trips to the open air for a chance to
breathe.

In the course of the evening it was learned that
there was a turkey-roost about two miles down the
creek, and one of the cowboys volunteering to guide
the hunters, they made the trip. They had the
pleasure of seeing a lot of squirrel nests, and returned
to the hut after midnight.

Early next morning, with heads dull from sleep-
ing in the atmosphere of tobacco smoke, Dyche and ■
Robinson started for a hunt with cowboy guides.
Robinson and Cimarron Jim went down the river,

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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while Dyche and Buckskin Joe took the opposite
direction. While working along through the patches
of scrub -oak and over sand ridges, the latter two sud-
denly came upon a flock of about seventy-five turkeys.
Joe at once put spurs to his horse and rode after
them. Dyche was compelled to follow, and after a
chase of about two hundred yards they were almost
on the turkeys. They jumped from their horses, but
before they could get their guns ready the turkeys
disappeared over a hill. The race was repeated with
the same success several times. At last Joe shot
from his horse, and the flock flew and sailed out of
sight over the thicket of oak bushes. A query from
Dyche elicited the answer that this was one of the
chief ways of hunting Vv^ild turkeys among the cow-
boys.

A mile further they came upon three deer feeding,
and were within seventy-five yards of them when
they were seen. Without waiting for the man whom
he was engaged to guide, Joe jumped from his saddle
and pumpt d bullets after the deer as fast as he could
work the lever of his Winchester. The deer disap-
peared over the hill, but Joe affirmed that he had
shot one through behind the shoulders, while he had
hit another twice as it was going over the hill.
Tying the horses to a swinging limb the trail of the
deer was followed, but no sign of blood or a wounded
animal was to be found.

The day was cold, but the unusual exercise of walk-
ing heated Joe to such an extent that he took off his
overcoat and hue g it to a tree. Half a mile further on
he discarded his chaj)erellos, or leggings, and hung

LIFE IN A DUGOUT.

101

them up, intending to return for them on his horse.
It soon became evident, however, that the cowboy
was lost and could not find the horses. Dyche and
Joe not being able to agree as to the proper direction
to take, separated with the understanding that a
signal shot was to be fired when the horses were
found.

After an hour's walking Dyche found Joe's horse,
loose and grazing, but his own was nowhere to be
seen. His signal brought the cowboy, who imme-
diately mounted the animal and rode off after his
clothing, saying that he would return and take Dyche
to camp. As night was now coming on Dyche did
not wait, but started for the ranch, which he reached
just at dark. It was three hours later when Joe
came in, tired out and without either overcoat or
leggings.

At midnight the noise made by some one stumbling
into the dugout aroused everyone. It was Robin-
son, who was almost exhausted. He and Cimarron
. Jim had intended to stay all night at the hog ranch,
but the guido got lost and wandered away, leaving
the professor to look out for himself. Finding neither
hogs rar jh,nor man, the professor made his way
back to the home ranch, leaving his blankets with
Jim. Knowing that the professor needed rest, Dyche
gave up his sleeping-bag and said he would go out
and hunt a little. As he shut the door he heard one
of the cowboys remark :

"Well, that feller wants turkeys worse than I do."

The night was cold and frosty, and the stars gave
sufficient light for Dyche to make his way up Turkey

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Creek. He walked slowly, examining all the hawk
nests and other bunches in the trees, which in the
dim light took on odd shapes, and in some instances
resembled turkeys. Everything was quiet, and not
even the hoot of an owl broke the stillness. While
thinking of the lonesomeness a scratching and scram-
bling on the ice of the creek attracted his attention,
and Dyche saw a black object moving sar a water-
hole. Thinking it was a raccoon he sent a load of
shot at it, and it spread out on the ice. Drawing it
ashore with a long pole, Dyche tied its legs together
and prepared to hang it to the limb of a tree, when
the peculiar feeling of its tail induced him to light a
match to see his prize. He found that he had killed
a magnificent otter.

Wandering up the creek for an hour or two longer,
he was just on the point of turning back when he
espied a large object roosting in the top of a tall cot-
tcnwood tree. After watching it for some time he
decided that it was a big gobbler and fired a shot
at it, taking the best aim that he could in the dim,
light. The bird came down with a thump which told
that the shot had been fatal. Tying its feet together
and hanging it to a tree, Dyche found by the light of
a match that he had killed a large golden eagle.

After dinner next day Dyche started alone for the
jack-oak thickets. He had had enough of cowboy
guides and severed all connection with Joe. He made
his way slowly through the thicket, over the low sand-
hills, for two or three miles. Numerous places where
turkeys had scratched away leaves searching for food
were found. An occasional coyote was seen skulking

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WILD TURKEYS, WILDCATS, ETC.

103

through the bushes, and now and then he had
glimpses of white-tailed deer. Golden eagles were
sailing above, and quails and prairie-chickens were
flushed in innumerable covej's. Finally a bunch of
twenty-five turkeys was seen running over a hill,
and a circuitous route was taken to head them off. A
careful stalk placed him within forty yards of three
of the birds which were sciatching on a knoll, when
the warning " pit, pit " told him he had been seen. A
load of shot brought down a fine gobbler, weighing
eighteen and a half pounds. As this was Dyche's
first turkey and was a load of itself, the hunter was
satisfied and immediately returned to the ranch.

Approaching the ranch, he heard a fusillade which
sounded as if a battle was in progress. Thirty or forty
shots were fired within fifteen minutes, and the men
were evidently working their Winchesters as rapidly
as possible. Cimarron Jim, who was cooking, had
left his fire and was saddling his horse, while the others
were not to be seen. Dyche and Jim were soon in
the saddle and going in the direction of the sound.
At the head of a ravine were the two other cowboys,
riding and shooting. Jim rode straight for the
scene, while Dyche circled around the head of the
ravine, which he reached just in time to see a large
wildcat emerge from the brush and start across the
open space. Putting spurs to his horse, Dyche
headed the animal off and started it in another direc-
tion, towards the timber. Again riding around it he
drove it back, and while thus keeping it in the open-
ing the cowboys on the other side of the ridge were
almost splitting their throats yelling. Finally the

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

cat made a straight run for the timber, and Dyche
tried a flying shot at it with a charge of double-O
shot, which tore up the ground all around the animal.
The cat immmediately sat down and began to snarl
and growl. Riding close, Dyche removed all the
shot from a cartridge except about a dozen and killed
the cat. One shot from the first load had hit it close
to the spine, causing it suddenly to sit down.

The cowboys insisted that there was another cat in
the thicket, and a search was made which soon drove
the animal out. It came running along a cow- path
towards Dyche, who waited until the animal was
within twenty-five feet of him. Seeing the hunter
the cat crouched in the cow-path. It was too close
for a shot with the heavy load in the gun, and Dyche
got down from his horse and began extracting the
shot. The cat waited, showing its teeth and snarling,
until a dozen number 3 shot ended its career.

Next day Dyche found a buck and doe and killed
the former. Robinson came in with two fine turkey
hens, and these, with several prairie-chickens and
other small game, made a very respectable showing
for the three-days' hunt. Robinson's time was up,
however, and he was compelled to return to his home.
Dyche accompanied him to Caldwell, and there pre-
pared for a longer hunt. He made arrangements
with three white men and an Indian for transporta-
tion to Fort Reno, starting the same afternoon on the
journey of one hundred and fifteen miles.

Dyche had discovered that a man's blankets were
considered public property, and in order to get rid of
troublesome bedfellows and at the same time secure

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SURVIVING A BLIZZARD.

105

the greatest poasiblo benefit from bis bed, he had a
sleeping-bag made of his bedding. The blankets
were sewed together in the shape of a bag, and the
whole was covered with heavy canvas. This " poke"
excited the risibilities of his companions, but Dyche
had the satisfaction of getting rid of certain insects
which make very disagreeable sleeping companions.
The first night's camp was made in the open prairie,
and when the men saw how warmly Dyche slept
while they shivered with cold all night, each vowed
he would have a "sleeping-poke" as soon as pos-
sible.

About Jour o'clock in the afternoon of the third day
a blizzard came upon them suddenly, while they were
on the open prairie and far from shelter. The blind-
ing storm soon prevented all travel, and they un-
hitched the horses, tying them on the leeward side
of the wagons, while the boxes and bags from the
load were piled up as a partial protection from the cut-
ting wind. Putting their blankets together, the three
white men lay down " spoon fashion" to keep warm.
The Indian found an old buffalo-wallow and spread
his blankets there in the high grass and weeds.
Dyche followed the example of the Indian and
crawled into his sleeping-bag, which he fastened
down by the canvas. He was soon fast asleep, and
did not awaken until he felt the Indian pulling at his
bedding next morning, to see if he was alive.

The others were all alive, but were so cold and
worn out that they could barely stir. Driving to the
river a fire was started, and hot coffee and breakfast
soon put new life into the party. Pushing on they

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

reached Darlington, just across the river from Fort
Reno, next day, Christmas eve. Dyche had a letter
of introduction to the Indian agent, Colonel John D.
Miles, who immediately took charge of the naturalist
as his guest.

Colonel Miles was sometli \ iig of a sportsman him-
self, and readily gave information regarding the game
of the Territory. His advice was that Dyche should
go to Fort Cantonment, and arrangements were made
that night with the driver of the buckboard that car-
ried the mail, to take the hunter the sixty-five miles
across the country to the fort.

The trip was to be made in one day, and. the sour-
visaged driver seemed doubtful as to Dyche's abil-
ity to stand it; but the latter said he could if any-
one else could, and they started. After ten miles of
the roughest riding Dyche had ever experienced, he
got out a strap and fastened himself to the seat. The
cold wind blew across the bleak prairie at the rate of
forty miles an hour, and by the time the half-way
dugout was reached the naturalist was chilled to the
bone. The driver told him that they changed drivers
and teams there, and that if he thought he could not
stand the rest of the trip he could stay there until the
next change, two days later. Dyche thanked him
for the offer, but said he thought he could go the
rest of the way. On p. table in the dugout was a big
corn-pone and an immense turkey, cooked to perfec-
tion. He needed no second invitation from the
young man who was preparing to take the old
driver's place, to help himself. With the drumstick
and second joint in one hand and a huge piece of

SURVIVING A BLIZZARD.

107

corn-bread in the other, he prepared to eat his Christ-
mas dinner as he travelled.

The change of drivers was very acceptable, for the
5'oung fellow told many stories of interesting inci-
dents of life among the Indians. While they were
ascending a steep bank after crossing a small stream,
the young fellow began peering into the bushes, and
remarked that there were a good many deer in that
vicinity. Suddenly he stopped and whispered :

" There's one now. Don't you see him?"

Looking in the direction pointed, Dyche saw a
magnificent pair of antlers and a large body dimly
showing in the bushes.

" Get down quick and get out your gun," whispered
the driver. " He's a big fellow."

As the guns were strapped under the seat, Dyche
answered that it was too cold and he was too stiff
to shoot. Driving towards the deer tbo young man
showed a cunningly contrived ruse. A deer's antlers
were fastened to a stump and a gunny-sack formed
the body.

" I have seen over a hundred shots fired at that
deer," said he, and from the appearance of the trees
and bushes in the vicinity he undoubtedly told the
truth. The fort was reached just at dark, and Dyche
was cared for by Decker, the Indian trader.

For three days a blizzard howled, and during that
time all hunting was an impossibility; but Dyche
spent the time of enforced idleness in getting ac-
quainted with the Indians of the vicinity, and learn-
ing from them the condition of the country and the
haunts of game. When the storm broke, Dyche took

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

the advice of Little Raven, an Arrapahoe chief, and
went to the hig cattle ranch of Dickey brothers with
Sam Horton, the foreman, who had been detained at
the fort during the storm.

Tlie ranch occupied a stretch of country fifty miles
square, and the home ranch was a cluster of eight or
ten log houses and stables, where the men congregated
during the winter. This was headquarters, and was
the base of supplies for the outlying ranches. Half
a mile from this ranch was the winter camp of old
Coho, a Cheyenne chief of great importance, and this
camp was the place of resort and amu 3ement for the
thirty ^ forty men who made the home ranch their
abiding-pic , ^ng the winter.

The ranch was rea».ned just before supper, and the
meal was hardly over when the men began leaving
by twos and threes, until the house was deserted by
all except Dyche, Horton, and the old French cook,
who, in response to Dyche's inquiries for the rea-
son of this strange d '.^appearance, said " the squaw
bumpers gone to tho Injun dance."

Horton proposed that they should also go to see the
fun, and the two were sooji at the tepee of old Coho,
whicii they entered without ceremony. Horton pre-
sented Dyche to the old chief, who sat on a roll of
blankets between his two daughters, Zilpha and Cesso-
nia. The chief was attired in buckskin leggings, with
a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, while the
two young squaws wore dressed in pink calico gowrs
with red striped shawls thrown over their heads.
Around the tepee sat other bucks and squaws, dressed
much after the fashion of whites, with the exception

AN INDIAN DANCE.

109

that all wore moccasins and had blankets instead of
overcoats.

After paying his respects to the old chieftain,
Dyche followed the advice of Horton and purchased
two pairs of moccasins from the girls, paying double
price therefor, and thus winning the old fellow's
favour. i^'oUowing the presentation the whole party
went to a large tepee, where the dance was to be
given. In the centre of a room about thirty feet in
diameter was built a fire in the most economical
fashion, the sticks radiating from the blaze like
spokes in a wheel. Around the wall, on rolls of
blankets, sat about twenty-five squaws and two-thirds
as m \y cowboys, with a number of young bucks.
The sound of the "devil's fiddle," a peculiar drum
made from a hollow log over which are stretched raw
cowskins, was heard. Around this drum sat five
Indians with short sticks, and they monotonously
beat the drum in perfect unison, hitting it at inter-
vals of about a second and a half in regular time, the
"thump, thump" filling the whole room. To assist
in the musical effort the five bucks set up a howl,
prolonged, guttural, and undulating, rising and fall-
ing with regular rhythm and cadence. In this song
the other bucks joined at intervals at their pleasure,
while occasionally the squaws would unite their high
falsetto voices in a most peculiar sound which they
produced with lips and teeth and the tips of their
fingers inserted in their mouths. The scene was
weird in the extreme, and the darkened tepee, filled
with a motley crowd of red and white men, sitting in
the flitting lights and shadows of the fire and listen-

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

ing to the wild, barbaric music, brought back to the
mind of the naturalist the scenes with which he had
been so familiar in childhood.

The monotonous sound increased in volume, and
then the signal for the dance was given. Two squaws
selected one man, and the three took their places in
the circle, continuing until the circle was complete.
The ten cowboys and their twenty squaws then began
a peculiar " crow-hopping " dance, varied with a heel-
and-toe motion, each movement being made in uni-
son, the circle rising and falling to the sound of the
drum. For an hour the performance continued,
and then an intermission was taken, while one
of the musicians passed a hat — this was the only
ceremony which he had retained from the teaching
of the missionaries. The result of the collection be-
ing satisfactory, the performance began again, and
continued with these hourly intermissions and hat-
passings until daylight.

In the intermissions the squaws varied the enter-
tainment by occasionally throwing their shawls
over the heads of the cowboys, as an intima-
tion that on the payment of a quarter the cowboy
could have the privilege of kissing the squaw. To
Dyche the price seemed exorbitant, but the cowboy
taste appeared to be different, and they eagerly ac-
cepted the invitation. During the evening the
naturalist had been an interested onlooker, with no
idea of joining in the fun ; but Zilpha and Cessonia
bad been so favourably impressed with his generosity
in giving them double price for their moccasins that
they asked him to be their partner in a dance. He

AN EMBARRASSED PROFESSOR.

Ill

was disposed to decline, but Horton advised him
uot to offend them, as they had paid a very high
compliment to a stranger. Giving a reluctant con-
sent he took his place in the ring, and the lu-
dicrous figure cut by the hunter was such that
Indians and cowboys kept up one continuous howl
of laughter.

Horton, meanwhile, was scheming to have a little
more fun at the expense of the innocent naturalist,
and while the latter's attention was distracted, he
gave Cessonia a dollar to catch Dyche and kiss him,
while to Zilpha was given fifty cents to assist in the
operation. Sitting by the side of Dyche, Cessonia
suddenly whirled her shawl over his head and tried
to draw him to her. He was too quick for her, how-
ever, and slipped to the ground and out of the shawl.
Then began a race which afforded more amusement
for the assembled cowboys and Indians than they had
had for years. A second throw of the shawl, supple-
mented by l^ilpha's strength, held Dyche. The two
squaws, who had arms like prize-fighters, were more
than a match for the naturalist, and they got him to the
fioor, where, after rolling over the ground from one
side to the otber, and almost tearing down the tepee
in their struggles, Cessonia succeeded in planting a
kiss all over one side of Dyche 's face, from the mouth
to the ear.

Fully satisfied with what he had seen and experi-
enced, Dycbe decided to return to the ranch, and to
all of Horton's entreaties to wait for supper, which
was just then brought in, he tarned a deaf ear. This
supper was a large kettle of meat and soup, flanked

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

by stacks of thin loaves of bread, all of which was
eagerly eaten by the assembled guests.

A wagon of supplies was sent to Loco camp, about
fifteen miles away, and Dyche went there with a
letter from Horton to the man in charge. The hurt-
ing outfit was shipped on the wagon, while Dyche iJ-
lowed on "old Weazel," a horse highly recommendea
for his good qualities. During the following ten
days Dyche had no cause to regret his selection, for
the horse was a perfect hunter.

He was now in the heart of the turkey country,
and a preliminary skirmish that evening convinced
him that there were several flocks in the vicinity.
Early next morning he rode to Wolf Creek, four miles
away, and while travelling carefully he suddenly
came upon a flock of twenty-five or thirty turkeys,
scratching under a bunch of jack-oak trees. He was
seen, however, and in order to get around them he
rode back out of sight, and then made a careful stalk.
He was disappointed, find when he reached the place
where the birds had been, they had disappeared.
One turkey was soon seen running over a distant
ridge, and Dyche hurried after it, getting another
sight Just as it was going over a second hill. A
quick shot secured it, and with the sound half a
dozen others rose from the grass and weeds, and one
more was killed as they staried to fly over the hill.
Carrying his two specimens, which were fine old hens,
to the horse, Dyche started for the ranch, satisfied
with his first d'dy^s work, On the way dr.wn the
creek he noticed another flock. Hidiiig in iho biishes
he watched them for over an lioui', noticing ^sixjcially

SUCCESSFUL HUNTING.

113

their carriage and modes of living. He was satis-
fied with his study and a fine gobbler was killed.
He took the three birds to the ranch, where they
were prepared for future use. From the contents of
the crops of the birds it was seen that the winter
food consisted principally of acorns, a pint of which,
shells and all, were found in each crop. With these
were seeds of various plants, and one had eaten freely
of wild grapes, which hung dried on the vines.

Next morning Dyche went again to Wolf Creek,
and leaving Weazel feeding at the mouth of the
stream in a grassy spot, he went up the creek on foot.
A turkey calling in the distance attracted his atten-
tion, and while stalking it he came upon a large flock
of over a hundred birds on a sand-bar, where they
were sunning themselves. Some were scratching
and dusting their feathers, while others walked about
and picked up morsels of food. Occasionally an old
hen would raise her head and give a loud call. Fully
an hour was consumed in working around to a high
bank, fifty yards from the flock, and here Dyche lay
for some time watching the movements of the birds.
Selecting a bunch of five, he sent a load of double- O
shot into it. There was a roar as of a cyclone as
that magnificent flock rose into the air and sailed
awav. He sent the load from the other barrel after
them, and the double volley brought down four hens,
which made a heavy load to carry back to the place
whore he had left the horse. On the way down the
creek a fine gobbler was added to the bag, being shot
on the wing as it started to fly.

Next day the same ground was worked again, and

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CAMP FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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two hens were killed out of a bunch which started out
of the busliesa. A few yards farther on a gray wolf
came tr« H' ng down the ravine, and was knocked over
with a ' J. : shot ; but before Dyche could get to
him he rec«. ed his feet and went into the brush.
A la^^^o amount of blood was left, but the animal suc-
ceedf;d in getting away. Two more turkeys, fine
gobblers, were shot on the return, after dark, from
the trees where they were roosting.

Tha following day was lost by going out with the
cowloys hunting deer, and the sixth day was so
stormy that all were compelled to keep in-doors.
Next day found Dyche again on Wolf Creek, and
while watching for a flock of turkeys a wolf came
down the ravine. A charge of double-0 shot from
"old Vesuvius" knocked him over, and this one did
not get up again. A short distance further a flock of
turkeys was scared out of the bushes and a hen and
gobbler killed. These were hung to a tree and the
hunt continued. Half a mile farther on a white-
tailed deer was seen standing on its hind-feet, with
its fore-feet swinging in the air as it nipped the buds
from the lower limbs of a tree. The gun had turkey-
shot shells in the barrels, and while the deer was not
over fifty yards away, the hunter thought he would
make sure of it by changing the shells. While so
doing a shot slipped into the lock, but during five
minutes of nervous work the deer did not get scared
and continued to browse. Both barrels were fired
to make sure of the shot, and the deer dropped dead
within fifty yards of the spot where it had been
eating.

SUCCESSFUL HUNTING.

116

Dyche now started back for the horse, and on the
way down killed a gobbler. With the three turkeys,
a deer, and a wolf on the horse he made his way to-
wards the ranch ; but before reaching it secured two
more of the beautiful birds. As old Weazel had
about as much of a load as he could well carry, Dyche
walked the seven miles to the ranch, leading the
horse.

Three more days in the woods added four turkeys
and a wildcat to the total. The results of the hunt
with his baggage were taken to Fort Cantonment in
one of the ranch wagons, and just as he reached
there a big freight wagon passed along from the ap-
pl;j ranch, going to Caldwell for supplies. The driver
was lonesome and was glad of Dyche's company, so
a bargain was soon struck and the luggage piled in
the wagon.

Ten days of uncomfortable travelling, during which
the whole outfit came near being lost by attempting
to cross the Cimarron on the ice, brought them to
their journey's end. While camped on the banks of
the Cimarron, two cowboys undertook to have fun
with the " tenderfoot, " as they termed Dyche, and
invited him to take a deer-hunt with them. Tak-
ing him to a bunch of jack-oaks they told him ho
would be sure to find deer in there, and advised him
to crawl through and scare out the animals, while
they would remain on the outside and shoot them as
they ran out. Dyche noticed sundry smiles and
winks, and fully understood the part he was to play
in the little comedy. Crawling into the bushes he
made his way carefully along one of the little trails.

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CAMP-FIRES OF A A^iTURALIST.

While creeping in this way he saw a doe standing
about thirty yards away, and a shot dropped her in
her tracks. A buck, which had been lying down,
jumped out, and a second shot brought him down.
Tying his handkerchief to a bush to mark the spot,
Dyche hurried out to where the cowboys were wait-
ing. In a very excited manner he asked if they had
seen the deer. None had passed that way, and when
Dyche told them that he had seen two the excitement
spread, and the cowboys now dashed into the bushes ;
but when they reached the dead deer with the hand-
kerchief flying they concluded that the man they had
sent into the bushes to play dog was no tenderfoot.
' In this hunt after the finest game-bird in the world,
Dyche not only secured a number of excellent speci-
mens, but learned much about the habits of the wild
turkey. He was aware of the fact that they be-
gin to lay about the first of April, and laid from a
dozen to fifteen eggs, but there was much about their
winter life which he did not know and which this
trip taught him. The birds of the Territory are
slightly different from those of New Mexico, with
brighter plumage and more distinct marking in
colours. In summer the food of the birds is governed
by the supply, being composed of insects, principally
grasshoppers, and buds and berries. In winter the
birds exist almost entirely on dried grapes, buds, and
seeds, and especially acorns.

The cowboys said they had regular roosts, and
showed Dyche places where they said they had seen
thousands at a time in the trees ; but the pot-hunters
are after them, and this noble game-bird will go the

EXTINCTION OF THE WILD TURKEY.

117

way of the buffalo and be a thing of the past, unless
vigourous means of protection are soon taken. The
birds were formerly seen from Maine to Florida and
from the Pacific to the Atlantic oceans, being more or
less common along the wooded streams of the United
States. !N"ow they are scarce, and will soon be classed
among the rarest birds.

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CHAPTER VIII.

In the Cascades — Extermination of Many Species of Animals
— Something abc c the Rocky Mountain Goat — An
Arduous Journey — The Cascades Beached — Wholesale
Hunters — In Camp — A Failure.

iT is a fact well known to every reader
that the American buffalo, or bison,
is now practically extinct as a wild spe-
cies. A few years more and this will
also be true of such animals as the elk, moose. Rocky
Mountain sheep and goats, caribou, musk ox, lion or
puma, gray wolf and bears, while deer, foxes, and nu-
merous other smaller animals will become very rare.
The moose formerly ranged from Maine to Idaho
and was quite common in all suitable parts of the
northern tier of States and Territories. During the
past few years only a few stragglers have been re-
ported in these places. It is but a few years since
the beaver was said to be one of the most common
wild animals in the State of New York. It is now
questionable whether there is a single wild beaver in
the State. Twenty years ago beaver were common
along all the streams of Kansas. Ten years ago they
were often found. Now they are rare, and in less
than ten years there will not bo a wild one, except by
chance, in the State. Buffalo, antelope, deer, elk,

On guard.

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THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN 60 AT.

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bear, gray wolf, and the wild turkey have already
disappeared.

With such facts as these before him, it was appar-
ent to Dyche that if he ever expected to complete his
collection of birds and animals it was high time to
set about it. Following out this idea, he devoted a
year to the study of taxidermy and to visiting the
various large museums of the East as well as zoologi-
cal gardens and shops of taxidermists. Some months
were spent in the studio and workshop of W. T.
Homaday while he was mounting his large group of
bison, and in the study and measurement of live
animals in the various zoological gardens, and then
he felt partially prepared for the labours before him.

In the Century magazine of December, 1884, ap-
peared an article on the Rocky Mountain goat, from
which the following extracts are taken :

" Its history is one of peculiar interest. So far as
I know, specimens of the Aplocerus montanus are
to be found only in three cities : In London, where
an under-sized and wretchedly stuffed specimen does
not redound to the honour of the British Musewaj or
of English taxidermists; a better one in the L.oyden
Museum ; two fair representatives, one male and one
female, in the National Museum at Washington."

"Of the twenty-three scientific a^-thorities who
have, so far as I have been able to follow the subject,
written on this animal, none have ever seen one
alive, and only four have ever examined a stuffed
specimen, but they, nevertheless, have bestowed
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CAMP-FiP.ES OF A NATURALIST.

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thirteen different generic names upon it, some mak-
ing it a sheep, others classing it as a goat, while
others 'igain ranke;! it with the chamois."

So thoroughly was Dyche impressed with the ne-
cessity of prompt action in the matter of securing
specimens that ho did not wait for the board of
regents of the university to consider his plan, but made
immediate arrangements for an expedition to the far
Northwest after big game. British Columbia wap
selected as the proper ground, and after a month
preparation he was ready to start. This preparation
included daily target practice with two new rifles : a
Winchester, 40-82 model of 1880, and a 40-75 Reming-
ton. Day after day the practice was continued, until
over forty pounds of lead had been shot at every con-
ceivable form of target, under every possible circum-
stance which his experience had taught him he
might expect in the woods of the Cascade range.
Rolling and stationary targets were fired at from a
standstill or while running ; he would run at full speed
forty or fifty yards and then fire, until he became
familiar with his guns under all circumstances and
until he felt that he had full control over his nerves
and mascles as well as a perfect knowledge of just
what his guns would do. Tarpaulins, for covering
packs and drying skins, heavy pack-bags and smaller
sacks of canvas were made, every possible want was
cared for, and on the morning of July 3d he left Law-
rence, reaching Denver on the 4th.

A few days were spent hero waiting for Judge
Frederick A. Williams and Dr. J. "W. Anderson,
who were to accompany him with a local taxidermist

AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY.

131

who profeBsed to be able to guide the party through
the Cascade Mountains or anywhere else. During
this wait in Denver Dyche continued his target
practice, and on the eleventh of the month all wore
ready and the start made for the north.

The hot, dry weather made the long trip through
Colorado and Idaho anything but pleasant. At
Montpelier the train stopped half ; i hour for break-
fast, and was just too late to allow the passengers to
witness a bear-hunt in the heart of the town. A
large female grizzly, with a cub, had come to town
and walked leisurely through the st.-eets. The whole
population turned out, and for her boldness and con-
tempt the bear lost her life, while the cub was made
prisoner, and when the train arrived was showing its
viciousness and strength by whipping the best dog
in town.

The train sped on over the sage-brush country.
Indians were to be seen standing at the stations
watching the iron horse which had invaded their do-
main. Finally the region of sage-brush disappeared,
and as Pendleton was approached the whole country
took on the appearance of a vast wheat-field. Trees,
water, houses, and barns were seen, and civilisation
seemed to have been reached once more.

Spokane v/as the end of their railroad journey, and
here tents were put up, bath-houses and barber-shops
invaded, and a day of rest on Sunday made the travel-
lers feel once more civilised. Monday and Tuesday
were spent buying eight or ten horses. After with-
standing the wiles of the dealers, who apparently
made their living by cheating "tenderfeet," a good

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CAMF-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

outfit was purchaised and the horses and wagons were
made ready.

Learning at Spokane that a good wagon road led
to Palmer Lake, it was determined to go on at once,
and the doctor and the judge went ahead, leaving
Dyche and Mac, the guide, about a day behind. The
road lay through a country where there was but little
grass and water, and it was ten o'clock the first night
when Dyche and his companion reached a ranch.
The task of keeping off the horde of vicious dogs and
waking the ranchman fell to Dyche, who accom-
plished it after much trouble. A little wheat-straw
was obtained for the horses, and next morning, when
Dyche went to the house to apologise for the trouble
he had given them, he was invited to a fine break-
fast.

All day the road led through a hot and dry country.
Dust and sand from five to ten inches deep made the
way almost impassable. When the wind blew it
felt as if it camo from the mouth of a furnace and
the hot dust flew in clouds, completely enveloping the
wagon and pack-horses. The whole country was as
dry as a desert, covered with large stones, and there
was little or no vegetation to be seen anywhere.
Late in the afternoon a ranchman sold them enough
wheat-straw to make a partial feed at three cents a
pound, but he would let them have no water at any
price. His well was nearly dry, and he gave them
a little to drink, but the horses had to go without.
Camp was made, but at three o'clock next morning
they started and travelled to Wilbur, a small town,
where, at six o'clock, they got sufficient water for the

Wtft^m-vtmmmm

AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY.

123

horses and then started on, overtaking the doctor and
the judge at eight o'clock.

AH day long they toiled on through the sand and
dust, which was now supplemented by clouds of
smoke from the distant burning mountain. Camp
was made at noon and an attempt made to rest and
eat, but it was a dismal failure. A little water found
in a hole, which was so vile that the horses would
not drink it, was boiled and coffee made, but it was
not fit to drink.

At half-past three in the afternoon the Grand Cou-
lee was reached. Here the road dropped down almost
perpendicularly into the canon and rose as precipi-
tously on the other side. In the distance could be
seen the magnificent range of the Cascades, along the
Columbia River, which at this place flows through
an immense gorge. Here the party suffered the tor-
tures of Tantalus, for while they could see and hear
the water as the stream dashed down the gorge far
below them, they could not by any possibility get
down to it, and were compelled to travel three miles
farther before they could obtain a "rink.

After a short rest the long pull up the mountains
began. The saddle-horses wero fastened by a long
rope to the tongue of the wagon, and thus assisted in
getting the vehicle up the trail. The road narrowed
and wound in and out among the stjep hills, along
the crags and cliffs of the mountain-side. While
going over this trail, Mac's bucking " cayuse" took it
into h's head to show off, and the result was that he
fell and got tangled up in the ropes, dragging down
Dyche's horse. The latter was almost caught in the

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

fall, but extricated himsell:. Then the doctor's horse
got down, fastening his rider by winding the rope
about his legs so that escape was impossible. The
struggling and kicking horses were on the edge of a
precipice which would give them a- sheer fall of three
hundred feet should they go over, and the situation
was precarious in the extreme,, The ropes v»?"ere
quickly cut and the doctor relieved from his dan-
gerous position, and then the horses got up safely.

But these were not all the troubles of the trip over
tl^e pass. A few miles farther on a freighter stuck
fast in the mud effectually barred the way. It was
utterly impossible to get pat-'t the big wagon, so three
hours were spent in assisting the freighter and clear-
ing the road. Camp was made that night by a small
spring, and by six o'clock next morning they were
agiiin on the road. At noon they reached Condon's
Ferry, the home of " Wild- Goose Bill," who spent
several hours, when ho first came into the country,
stalking and killing his neighbours' tamo geese.

The early ruoming breeze increased to a hurricane
and the dust filled the air, while heavy black (^louds
of smoke and ashes covered the sky. The discomfort
of travelling was so great that camp was made early
in the aft<>rnm:)n, and they undertook the almost im-
possible task of getting supper amid the dust and
ashes. Dyche and the judge started a fire and
cooked a sapper after a. fashion, but everything was
80 mixed with ashes that eating was almost impossi-
ble. The doctor was the life of the party, and his
exuberance kept them from uttei' demoralisation.

The potatoes were half fried and full of dirt. " All

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AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY.

126

•se

the better for that," was the doctor's comment, and
he ate as if ho believed it. The bread was burnt.
"All the better for that," was the invariable remark,
and at last the expression became the general by-
word whenever anything went wrong on the trip.
' The clouds passed away during the night and the
winds died down without a drop of rain. The
whole country appeared to have had no rain since the
flood. It had rained a little, however, about four
months before this date, Ail next day was spent in
one continuous trip over roads in valleys between
the mountains, while the dust came in clouds and
covered everything. With goggles over the eyes and
with the mouth and nose covered to keep the fine
particles from the lungs and iroat, they almost suf-
focated as they travelled, until late in the afternoon,
when they reached a small lake, where Dyche suc-
ceeded in shooting six half-grown ducks. While
thus engaged an Indian stole his spurs which he had
left on his saddle, and as he could not spare the time
to chase the thief, his horse benefited by the episode.
Reaching the Okonagan River at a point where it
is about ono hundred and fifty yards wide, they
found that a band of Indians had made their camp
and were fishing for salmon, which were running lu
great numbers. The red men erected a fish-dam of
willow and pole in such a manner that all the fish
aown the stream were caught in the baskets,
method has been in use among the Indians

gomg
This

from time immemorial and was fully described by
Lewis and Clarke in the history of their explorations
in 1805.

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Between two and three hundred Indians were in the
camp and they secured from one to two thousand
pounds of fish each night. These were cut up and
placed on pole platforms, under which smudge fires
were kept going constantly by the women and chil-
dren. The combination of squaw, papoose, dog, fish,
and general Indian camp smell was something better
imagined than described, and little time was wasted
by the hunters in that vicinity.

Ward's ranch was reached late that night, and it
was nine o'clock before the ducks were dressed and
cooked. They had a strong fishy taste, but all ad-
verse comment was cut off by the doctor's " They
are all the better for that." The judge, however,
rose to the occasion, saying :

" Begorra, I like fish, and, begorra, I like ducks, but,
begorra, I do not like fish-duck. "

Leaving Ward's ranch at half-past seven next
morning, another hot and dusty day was experienced.
White Mountain, that landmark known to every
man who has travelled in the Cascade range, towered
on the right of the trail and stood out against the
smoky sky. It was an inspiring sight and aided in
whiling away many of the tedious minutes of the
day. The party had been told of the lake called Sweet-
water, and it was with a feeling of joy that the waters
of the place were seen, but how keen w^as the disap-
pointment when it was found that some facetious
prospector had given the name to the bitterest sheet
of water in the Northwest. They toiled on and just
at dark reached Loomis trading post, utterly fagged
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THE CASCADES REACHED

127

This post was composed of a number of log-cabins
on the banks of a beautiful ice-cold stream which
dashed down from the snows of the Cascade range,
to which the early French voyageurs had given
the name " L'eau de coulee," or " water of the chasm."
The trappers and prospectors who followed at a later
day, however, corrupted this into "Toad Coulee,"
by which name the stream is now known. The post
was patronised to the extent of fifty cents for a fine
supper, prepared by a good cook, and the horses were
regaled with alfalfa hay in the corral.

During the moments of rest in their long and
wearisome day, Mac had exercised his ingenuity
in getting up new stories about the beautiful
fish which were to be caught in Palmer Lake. Now
that the body of water was so near, the doctor and
the judge wanted to hurry on and try a cast. Within
a mile of the lake the wagon stuck fast in the mud,
and they were compelled to pack the camp equipment
to the shore. Once there, the two fishermen could
not even wait for lunch, but soon had their lines out
and were whipping the water in vain effort to bring
a rise. In about two hours they succeeded in getting
a dozen of the worst specimens of fish to be found in
the whole country. They were little things called
" white fish" in that country — and were so full of
bones as to be unfit for eating. There was not a
trout in the lake.

Evening was now coming on, and the horses, which
had become frenzied from the attacks of the flies and
mosquitoes, were taken high up on the mountain,
where they could have relief during the night. It

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was useless to try to sleep, for the winged pests made
life a burden the whole night long. At earliest day-
light the party was up, and scarcely waiting for
breakfast, they struck camp and went back to Thorp's
ranch, where arrangements were made to store the
bulk of the outfit.

After an excellent dinner served by Thorp's squaw,
they started once more for the hunting-grounds.
The trail now led up the side of old Mount Chapaca,
and was a most pleasant change from what had been
experienced during the past few days. The air
was clear and cool, and there was none of the dust
and heat which had made life a burden during their
long ride over the barren country. Just as the sun
sank behind the western range a cosy grassy spot
beside flowing water was seen, and as the horses
were halted for camp it was discovered that the place
had been utilised for the same purpose by someone
some time before. On a large pine tree, was found
the legend : " Camp Disappointment. Could not find
the hidden mine."

A fawn had fallen a victim to the rifle of one of
the party as they came up the mountain, and by the
side of the cool spring the camp was anything but a
disappointment to the naturalist and his companions.
Mac had been telling of a certain beautiful stream
just ahead which was full of trout, and next day the
place was reached early in the forenoon. Mac's fish-
stories were generally looked upon with suspicion by
this time, but the doctor and the judge were so in-
spired with his apparent truthfulness about this river
that they did not wait to eat, but hurried away and

WHOLESALE HUNTERS.

129

began casting their flies over the stream. After
whipping the water for an hour or more they gave it
up in disgust and returned empty-handed to camp.
It was afterwards learned that Mac had not broken
his record, for there was not a trout in the stream,
and furthermore there never had been, for a series of
high falls some distance below prevented the fish
from coming up stream.

Several deer were seen during the afternoon, and
just as evening was coming on the smoke of a camp-
fire was espied, which proved to come from the camp
of two deer-hunters. The two men who sat by the
fire eyed the new-comers with suspicion, and in re-
sponse to inquiries said they were prospectors; but
the piles of deer and sheep skins which lay ibout the
camp made it evident that they were skin-hunters,
and were in the mountains ruthlessly slaughtering
the game for the paltry sum to be had for the hide.
It was afterwards learned that these two men killed
over two hundred deer during that summer, selling
the skins for seventy-five cents each and leaving the
dead carcasses lying just where they had fallen. The
head-hunters, against whom such a wave of indig-
nation has spread over the country, are bad enough,
but they are usually satisfied with two or three ani-
mals, while the skin-hunters indiscriminately slaugh-
ter the animals by the hundreds and soon drive them
out of the country.

The skin-hunters were full of advice when they
learned that the party was after sheep.

" You may see some of them on the highest peaks
if you keep your eyes skinned," said the man with

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

a buckskin suit, " but you can depend on it, Mister,
that one old ram will always see you. He's jest
sure to see you if you're in sight. One old ram is
always on the lookout on the top crag, while the
others of the band are feeding below on the slope."

" How did you get two of them if they are so shy?"

" Oh, v.-e came upon them while they were in the
woods and didn't expect us. Then we fellers have
had lots of experience hunting wild things, and can
get animals you fellers can't."

This big talk did not have the effect of deterring
the party, for Dyche believed that if anyone else
could get a sheep he could. A mile's walk took the
naturalist and his companions to the ideal spot for a
camp, and here preparations for a long stay were
made. A mile to the north two towering peaks raised
their heads to the sky, while between them a clear,
ice-cold stream dashed down over the rocks and
bowlders, making constant music through the
grassy valley. On the west side of the stream the
valley sloped gently back to the higher mountains,
while the thick grass made a carpet of green. Mid-
way between the water and the rising groimd stood
a bunch of spruce trees, forming a background for
the camp, which was pitched just to the east of the
trees. The horses were put on ropes, the tents set
and carpeted with spruce boughs, the fire started and
supper begun, and the naturalist and his friends were
at home.

The judge confessed that he did not know much
about cooking, and had been afraid to try his hand
heretofore lest he should spoil the meal ; but he had

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IN CAMP.

181

such an appetite after the long trip that he could
not wait and began preparing to cook. He got
out a lot of flour, and notwithstanding the fact that
he received enough advice to sour any batch of bread,
he succeeded in making such biscuits that he was at
once appointed baker for the expedition.

The doctor not only knew how good coffee tasted,
but knew how to make it ; and his efforts in this line
supplementing those of the judge, it was but a short
time before the party sat down to a feast so fine that
all else but the luxury of dining was forgotten.
Everyone was hungry, and the table was soon
cleared.

As they were in a sheep country, the high crags and
peaks pointed out by the skin-hunter» were eagerly
scanned in the hope of seeing the longed-for game.
Early next morning the first hunt way taken, but it
resulted in nothing but experience ; and that evening
Dyche showed such signs of breaking down under the
unwonted journey and horseback travel that the doc-
tor insisted that he should remain in camp for at least
two days. Each day the judge and the doctor would
go out on the mountains and return in the evening
with no game, but with such stories of the sheep
which they had seen that Dyche fretted at his en-
forced idleness. On the evening of the second day
the doctor came in with a story of a band of sheep
which he had seen, and at dawn next morning he and
Dyche were off to the spot. By sunrise they were
on the top of a magnificent mountain, and saw the
orb over the peaks of the range.

Separating from his companion, Dyche wandered

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

along slowly, watching far in front and looking for
any possible movement that would indicate a sheep.
Each rocky crag as it came into view was carefully
scanned with the expectation of seeing a ram on the
alert. In a grassy cove on the side of the moun-
tain unmistakable signs of sheep were seen. He
passed on, looking carefully in every direction, keep-
ing near the top of the ridge. Finally he retraced his
steps to the cove and made another inspection. It
was one of the places which had been pointed out b}''
the skin-hunters as "a likely place for a few old
rams," and the hunter was loth to leave it. While
moving along near the crest of the ridge, Dj^che heard
the sound of a stone rolling down the mountain on
the opposite side of the hill.

The sound could only be made by some animal
walking among the loose rocks, and in an instant the
hunter's heart was leaping madly at the thought of
his nearness to the "big-horn." The wind was in
his favour, and as the sound continued he felt sure
that his presence had not been noted by the animal.
Removing his shoes, he crawled towards the top of
the ridge as carefully as a cat crawls upon its prey.
The movements of the animals became plainer with
each foot that he advanced. Just as he reached the
crest, he stopped for breath and looked to see that his
gun was all right. Again the animals moved. They
now seemed to be only a few feet away. Slowly he
crawled a few feet farther and rested. Now he be-
gan a snake-like movement at almost snail's pace
towards the crest. A few feet more and yet they
were not in sight. Another move and he was be-

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A DISGUSTED HUNTER.

138

hind a jutting rock which stood on the top of the
mountain. The animals were still moving about
almost within reach of his arm, yet he could not see
them, although they were heard so plainly. He
lifted his head carefully, just enough to permit him
to peer through a crack in the rocks, and there, stand-
ing in the sunshine and not forty feet away, almost
under him he saw, broadside towards him, two big
mule deer bucks. The revulsion of feeling at this
moment was so bitter that in his disappointment he
jumped to his feet and began throwing rocks at the
deer, which went down the mountain faster than
they had ever travelled before. Dyche was so sure
of finding sheep when he lifted his head above the
rocks that his keen disappointment unnerved him,
and he returned to camp disgusted.

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CHAPTER IX.

The First Big-Hom — How his Skin and Bones were Prepared
— Habits of the Rocky Mountain Sheep.

(YCHE'S disappointment did not prevent
an early start next morning, and it was
still early when he reached the spot
where the bucks had deceived him.
After climbing over the mountains for some time he
reached a semicircular ridge, opening to the south,
through the centre of which ran an intersecting ridge,
terminating in a jutting crag of bare rocks. The top
of this ridge was bare and rocky, while short and
thick bunch-grass grew on the sides of the slopes
leading down to the central amphitheatre, towards
the woods. From the dense growth of timber to the
south of this horseshoe-shaped inclosure there was
a gravelly hill leading towards the central ridge which
divided the amphitheatre into two parks. The three
jutting spurs at the ends of the side and central crags
were a quarter of a mile apart, while from the central
crag to the back of the ridge it was fully half a mile.
Dyche had worked his way up the mountain and
it was noon when he reached the top of the ridge.
Crawling carefully to the top, he examined the coun-
try thoroughly before showing himself. As nothing
living was visible, he crossed the ridge and sat down

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THE FIRST mCf-IIORN.

185

on the south side, overlooking the central portion,
and began eating his lunch. While thus fully ex-
posed to anything coming from the south, he saw a
big ram walking from the woods up the gravelly
hill to the crag at the end of the central ridge.
Dyche knew that if he so much as moved his hand
or foot he would be seen by the keen-eyed animal.
He thought rapidly now, for it was a case of no sheep
if he moved and perhaps no sheep if he did not move.
The ram reached the crag, and after gazing at the
country for a while began feeding towards the spot
where the naturalist lay.

Dyche saw that his only possible chance would be to
sit perfectly still until the old fellow got close enough
and then shoot him. The ram was wild and had
evidently been hunted before. He would not take
time to graze, but would snatch a mouthful of grass
and then raise his head high in the air and look
about while he chewed it. Ho continued slowly
towards Dyche, but the naturalist's clothing was
of a colour that was indistinguishable from the
rock and earth on which he lay, and he was not seen.
The ram fed towards him some fifty yards, and just
as he was beginning to congratulate himself on
the success of his plan the animal suddenly pawed
the earth a little and lay down, facing towards the
naturalist. There he contentedly chewed his cud,
while Dyche hardly dared to breathe for fear he
might be seen.

Minute after minute passed and the sun slowly
crawled towards the western horizon. At last the
biieep got up and shook himself, and Dyche felt that
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he would now surely come on along the ridge, but
in this he was again disappointed, for the sheep
began to feed again, but edged around the base of
the crag towards the woods from which he had come.
The naturalist saw that if he was to secure that
sheep he must do something very soon, or it would
be too dark to see to shoot. Timing the ram, Dyche
would give himself a shove with his heels every time
the sheep's head went down after a mouthful of
grass. Then drawing his gun up he would wait for
another mouthful and give himself another shove.
In this manner he covered the few feet between him-
self and the top of the ridge in half an hour and
gradually worked himself over. As soon as he was
confident that he was out of sight of the animal, he
made his way along the eastern spur of the ridge to
the southern end. Making his way carefully to the
top, he peered over and saw that the ram was still
there, but was fully a quarter of a mile away.

.Retracing his steps, Dyche made his way clear
around to the south end of the western ridge, but he
was still as far from his game as ever, and he could
see no way of getting closer without exposing his
body. He now went to the spot where he had first
gone over the ridge, and waited, hoping the ram
would come towards him, but he soon saw that the
animal was going towards the timber. The sun was
now almost down, and the naturalist saw that what
was to be done must be done quickly, and concluded
to make a desperate effort to get that sheep. Divest-
ing himself of his shoes, hat, and hatchet, he hurried
back along the western ridge to the southern spur.

' I •!

THE FIRST BIG-HORN.

137

When the ram would reach down for a mouthful of
grass Dyche would crawl along, as rapidly as pos-
sible, down the side of the ridge into the little park
between the two ridges. He took advantage of every
rock and hole in the ground, and in this way reached
the foot of the central ridge in about fifteen minutes,
while the ram was feeding just over the crest and
out of sight.

Now came a series of movements between gliding
and crawling towards the top. Dyche had marked the
spot where the ram was feeding and worked his way
to it, getting closer and closer to the place where the
ram had last been seen. Just as he was working to
the top of the ridge he heard a scrambling noise on the
other side. Springing to his feet, with his gun for-
ward and ready, he saw the ram going at full speed
toward s the timber. A hasty shot and the animal was
seen to falter, but quickly gathering itself together
it went on. Another quick shot and the ram disap-
peared around the edge of the crag. Dyche ran to
the end of the ridge, where he had a clear view of
the slope leading to the woods, but not a sign of the
ram was to be seen. A search along the edge of the
ridge showed the old fellow standing about seventy-
five yards below, apparently hard hit. Dyche's gun
was at his shoulder almost instinctively, but the
shot was not fired, for the sheep gave a lurch for-
wards and went tumbling down the side of the moun-
tain. Hurrying after him, Dyche found a magnifi-
cent specimen and hastened to take advantage of the
fading light to make anatomical notes and measure-
ments. He found that the eyes, which the books

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CAMP-FIRES GF A NATURALIST.

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describe as being brown or dark hazel, were of a
straw colour with a slight mottling of hazel near the
edges.

Darkness put a stop to the examination. There
was neither wood nor water near or Dyche would
undoubtedly have camped near his first big-horn.
An hour was spent in finding his shoes and hat, and
eight o'clock was past when the naturalist reached
camp. A hot supper was waiting for him, and while
discussing it the hunter told of his adventure.

Everyone was up bright and earlj' next morning.
The doctor went south, while Dyche saddled Billy
and went after his sheep. Two hours were spent in
measuring and skinning the animal, and by one
o'clock the skin, skeleton, and most of the meat were
in camp.

The doctor arrived from an unsuccessful hunt in
time for dinner. The sheep steaks proved that the
flesh of the big-horn is the finest game meat in exist-
ence. Dyche lived for weeks on the flesh without
having it pall on him, which shows that it is differ-
ent from any other venison. The meat was tender
and juicy, having only a slight mutton flavour, while
the fat, or tallow, would not harden, but formed a
granular mass, except in the coldest weather.

The afternoon was spent in preparing the skin
for preservation, which was a simple operation. All
particles of flesh and fat were first thoroughly removed
from every part of the skin to the hoofs, and then a
tliin-bladed knife slipped between the hoof and bone.
The ears and nose were cleaned of fascia and carti-
lage. Four parts of salt and one of alum were

PREPARING SKTN AND BONES.

139

placed in water, and the whole was boiled until a
strong brine was made, which was allowed to cool.
An excavation was made in the ground eighteen
inches in diameter and six inches deep, and into this
a part of the skin free from bullet-holes was pushed,
forming a cup, into which was poured the milk-
warm brine. Then the whole skin was thoroughly
wetted with a small sponge. The head and feet were
then placed in the vat and the whole skin thoroughly
saturated with the brine p,nd left to soak for six hours,
when the operation was repeated. When this soaking
was finished the skin was hung in a shady place to
dry, care being taken to turn the edges out frequently.
At the end of a few days the skin was dry and ready
for packing. It was folded and sewed in a burlap
bag marked with a label showing a number which
corresponded with the number of the description in
the note-book. Each bone was also marked with a
similar number and the specimen was ready for the
storeroom. This same process was gone through
with in every case where the skin was preserved.

Just as the sun was going down a big animal was
haard in the woods tearing along at full speed, making
a noise like a herd of deer. The doctor and Dyche
jumped for their guns, and were ready for anything,
when out of the timber came the judge on Nellie
Gray, at full speed, waving his hat and shouting.

" Well, by the long-homed angora !" said the doc-
tor, " I'll bet the judge has killed a deer. Yes, there
it is hanging to the back of his saddle."

Nellie Gray seemed to share the excitement of the
judge as they came tearing into the camp.

140

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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"What did I tell 3^011?" shouted the judge as he
jumped to the ground. " Just look at that specimen,
will you? Whoopee! A hundred dollars would not
buy that sheep."

As he spoke he began unloading the head and skin
of a fine ram from his saddle. While the naturalist
and the doctor prepared supper the judge told his
story.

"Do you see that mountain off there? It's more
than five miles over there and the trees are down
dreadfully between here and that old bald-top. I
rode all the way, though, and Nellie had a terrible
time getting over the logs. At ten o'clock I tied
Nellie at the foot of the mountain and climbed to
the top. I went along that snow-bank which you can
see over there, and as I slipped along I saw a sheep.
I worked around a crag and got within seventy-five
yards of him. There was a whole band of them and
they did not see me. That head and skin tells the
rest of the story."

Williams was so elated over the fulfilment of his
prophecy of the night before that he at once proceeded
to perform the ceremony of christening the camp.
In honour of the queen, in whose dominions the party
were encamped, it was called Camp Victoria.

After several days' unsuccessful hunting Dyche
concluded to extend his range and went to a bald
ridge about six miles from camp. Ascending the
highest peak in the whole country, from which a
vast expanse of mountain and valley could be seen,
he carefully scanned the surroundings. He espied a
moving object about a mile away and finally made it

THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SHEEP.

141

out to be a sheep. It was walking along the side of
the mountain, and the naturalist dropped to the ground
and made a long stalk to the place where he thought the
animal would pass. He crawled to the top of the ridge
and waited half an hour before he saw the sheep,
between two hundred and three hundred yards to his
left and about one hundred from the top of the ridge.
Near this sheep could be seen two others, lying down.
He made a careful stalk to the ridge just above them,
but could not see them. After waiting in vain for
the animals to move along the mountain he rolled a
stone down in order to start them out, hoping to get
a flying shot at them as they ran. Either the sheep
were accustomed to rolling stones or their hearing
was not as good as their sight, for they did not move.
A larger stone was then started down, and this
did the business effectually, for it started others and
the whole mass went bounding down, over the ledge,
right among the sheep. The animals went at full
speed along the side of the mountain to escape
from the rocks, and as they ran Dyche got in two
shots. He now ran to another point where he could
see the sheep rounding a crag. There were only two
running now, and they got out of sight too quickly
to give him another, chance. Going back along the
side of the mountain, he saw a beautiful four-year-
old ram just as it was sinking to the earth. By the
time the measurements were taken and the animal
skinned it was after sunset, but the load was carried
two miles to the horse. Dyche was greatly exhausted
from the exertion and thirst, but was compelled to
walk another mile before he could ride. It was late

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

at night when camp was reached, the horse taking
his own way.

The doctor and the judge had been "hunting
large," seeing many sheep, but the latter were so shy
that they could not get them. They each succeeded
in securing a fine specimen, and now their time was
up and they had to return to Denver.

Dyche had been dreading this announcement for
some time. He felt that he could ill afford to lose
his friends, for two better camping companions could
not be found. Though both were professional men,
with large business to look after, they were thor-
oughly versed in woodcraft and were real campers
and hunters. Having a lively interest in everything
going on, they took every disappointment the weather
or country might bring, without complaint. Even-
ing in camp was the most pleasant part of the twenty-
four hours, for it was spent in profitable conversation,
exchanging ideas and constantly developing new
thoughts.

A general discussion on sheep was started the even-
ing before the Denver gentlemen left for home, when
the judge asked if it was necessary to travel away up
into the British-Columbian mountains to get sheep.

" No," said Dyche. " Sheep range from New Mex-
ico to British Columbia, and may even be found as
far north as Alaska. They are seen east as far as
the Black Hills and range west to the Pacific Ocean.
They live, hc»wever, only in such localities in the
prescribed territory as best suit their habits. At
present they are confined to a few favoured localities
in the highest and roughest parts of the Rockies.

[

THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SHEEP.

143

But I learn that the skin and head hunters are fast
thinning them out. It is only possible now to find
stragglers, and these will soon be gone."

" How is it that your sheep are so much darker
than mine?" asked the judge.

" The colour is difficult of description, as it varies
so much in individual specimens. Some are very
light grayish-brown, or light rufous gray, while
others are very dark. All the intermediate shades
from light rufous ash to dark chestnut are to be seen
in one band. There is always a dingj'- white patch
on the rump, like that of the elk or antelope."

" Well, there is one thing that I can't quite under-
stand, and that is why we don't see any ewes or
lambs," said the doctor. " Here we have been hunt-
ing for several days and have seen nothing but bands
of old rams. It looks as if all the females had left
the country or stayed in the thick woods."

" During the summer and autumn the rams range
together on certain mountains, while the ewes and
lambs are in separate bands on some other range,
where they stay until late in the fall. You will find
that there are plenty of ewes and lambs within fifteen
or twenty miles of these mountains. Not over half
of the ewes have lambs following them. I have tried
to find the reason for this, but have not been able to
satisfactorily account for it. Among the theories of
the old hunters the most tenable is that the lambs
fall victims to their natural enemies, such as eagles,
wolverines, and wolves."

" Do the sheep ren ain constantly above timber-
line?"

; M.

144

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

" They seem to like the high crags and mountain-
tops, and when midisturbed remain there most of the
time. They grow very fat on the short, thick bunch-
grass that grows on the slopes and coves on the
mountain-side. The high ground affords them the
opportunity to watch for their enemies. When dis-
turbed they always break down the side of the moun-
tain for the woods, but usually keep going until they
reach another range of high mountains, though it
may be miles away.

" Ewes and lambs do not range on the high moun-
tains, at least while the lambs are small, but remain
lower down near the edge of timber-line. Certain
alkali spots on the side of the mountains are great
places of resort for the sheep, and they go there as
frequently as deer do to a salt-lick. The lambs are
bom in the latter part of May or the first of June."

" There is one thing that always seemed a myth to
me," said the judge, " and that is the stories we hear
about the fearful leaps rams mako down precipices,
where they are said to alight on their horns and re-
bound to their feet, thus saving their legs from the
terrible shock. I never believed there was any truth
in such stories."

" Well, as usual, your judgment is correct. Those
stories are all myths evolved from the fertile brains
of those men who do their hunting by the fireside of
some ranch in the mountains. Take a man who
comes to a place like Thorp's ranch and shows the
people that he is a 'tenderfoot' and is going to write
a book, and they will fill him up with more stories
of adventure than a hunter can find in a lifetime.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SHEEP.

146

If you will watch an old ram going down a moun-
tain, you will see that he does not jump down steep
places, but is as careful as a dog about where he puts
his feet. He will feel his way down and slip and
slide, keeping a firm foot-hold all the time, and never
jumps any more than any other animal which ranges
the mountains. I suppose that the imagination of
some book hunter made the fearful leaps out of the
battered condition of the horns. He possibly could
not understand why nature wanted to put such horns
on an animal, and not knowing that the horns had
been battered up by fighting, he imagined that it
was done when the animal jumped and struck on its
head.

" The horns of the males are of immense size, but
the ewes and lambs have small ones. Now, the
females and lambs have to jump and go where the
rams do, and if they jumped and struck on their horns
they would have a sorry time of it. The horns of
the males vary from twelve to eighteen inches at the
base, and a cross-section shows that they are all tri-
angular in shape. The horns and skull of the largest
sheep I ever saw weighed, when thoroughly dry,
twenty-eight pounds. The horns of the largest males
average from thirty to forty inches in length, while
those of the ewes are rarely over twelve inches
long."

Early next morning the judge and the doctor
started over the trail to Thorp's ranch, leaving
Dyche practically alone in the mountains, for the
guide was no companion and took little interest in any-
thing beyond his immediate wants. The naturalist

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now made great progress in his work, for he went at
everything with all his might in order to drive all
thought of lonesomeness from his mind. He collected
many small mammals and birds while hunting for
the larger ones.

CHAPTER X.

End of Sheep-Hunting— How the Sentinel Fell nt his Post—
A Peculiar Wound— Finding the Noon Hour by Stars —
How the Collection of Sheep was Completed.

vHUS far all the hunting had been done
within five miles of tho camp, but now
the naturalist determined to take a wider
range. Under ordinary circumstances a
mile or two is not considered a great distance, but
when it is over the roughest range of mountains in
the world, it generally means a day's constant strug-
gle to get over the ground without devoting any time
to hunting.

At daylight Dyche was on old Charlie's back, and
ten o'clock found him eight miles north of Camp
Victoria. The horse was lariated out where he
could feed, while the hunter climbed to the top of the
highest mountain in the vicinity. From this emi-
nence the whole country was carefully scanned, with
the expectation of getting a glimpse of a sheep. At
last one was discovered about a mile away on the
side of the mountain. The colour of these animals so
nearly approaches that of the rocks and dirt among
which they feed that it is almost impossible to dis-
tinguish them unless some movement reveals their
whereabouts. Careful scrutiny of the place where
the moving object was seen developed the fact that

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

there was a band of the animals, but as they were
on a barren mountain-top, four hours were vainly
spent in the endeavour to get close to them without
being seen. Finding this to be impossible, Dyche re-
turned to camp, as he preferred to leave them for
another day when they might possibly be in some
more accessible place.

At nine o'clock next morning he was back again,
carefully scrutinising the rocks and hills, and at last
made out what he thought was the head of an old
ram on the top of one of the highest crags in the
vicinity.

Slipping carefully along the edge of the crag, he
got within a quarter of a mile of the sheep unob-
served, but could see no way ot approaching nearer
without attracting the sentinel's attention. Nothing
was visible but that big fellow on the rock, but the
naturalist was confident that the whole band was
somewhere in the immediate neighbourhood. As-
cending a tree, he beheld a rare sight; In a sheltered
cove below the crag on which stood the watcher was
a band of seventeen big rams. Their fine propor-
tions, their enormous curving horns, and their appar-
ent freedom from all danger set the blood bounding
through the veins of the hunter as he took in the
situation from the top of that spruce tree.

For a full half-hour Dyche watched the animals
from his tree-top, and then he began to plan a way
of getting at them. Every foot of ground for five
hundred yards in every direction from the sen-
tinel's post was as bare as a floor, and there was
little encouragement offered me naturalist. The old

HOW THE SENTINEL FELL.

ram stood like a carved statue, his only movement
being the turning of his head from one point of the
compass to another. For several minutes he would
gaze in one direction intently, and then jerk his head
around and look another way, but ho was so far from
the hunter that the latter was unable to make out
when he was looking in the direction of the natural-
ist and when he was turned the other way. At last
Dyche determined to chance it and crawl up towards
the crag when ho thought the ram was looking from
him.

The wind was in the hunter's favour, and had it not
been for the old ram on the rock the stalking of the
band would have been a very simple matter. As it
was, the only feasible plan appeared to be to crawl
over the grassy slope from the edge of the timl^er,
keeping to the right of the cove in which the sheep
were feeding. Hatchet and belt were left at the foot
of the tree, and the campaign began.

Carefully crawling about fifty yards into the open
space, the head of the sentinel came in sight outlined
against the sky. The head was plainly to be seen,
but the question to be solved was which way the
animal was looking. After watching the horns for
some time, Dyche decided that the ram was looking
away from him. He began pushing himself along,
watching those big horns all the while and stop-
ping at the slightest movement of the sheep's head.
This continued until noon, and the hunter was
just beginning to congratulate himself on the success
of his plan, when all his calculations were upset by
the appearance of a second pair of horns on the crag.

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As tho new-comer soemed to be looking directly at
him and as the sheep appeared to be moving around
as if about to leave, Dyche feared that he had been dis-
covered and that the band was preparing to make a
break for some other mountain. The second sheep,
however, lay down on the top of tho rock, and the first
sentinel went below to feed with the rest of the band.
The naturalist pushed on, depending now on the move-
ments of the head of the reclining sheep. Between
one and two o'clock two more sheep made their ap-
pearance on the crag, and all three moved about, but
finally two of them went below, leaving one watcher
on the top.

Worming his way along, he reached a small water-
worn gutter on the side of the slope. Crawling down
this until it joined a larger one, he made good head-
way up the slope until he reached the head of tho
gutter. Fifty feet to his left was a string of low
bushes, and by edging, inch by inch, across the in-
tervening space, he soon had these fOr cover. Fifty
yards more would take him to the edge of the cove
where the band was feeding in fancied security. An
old scrubby evergreen bush and a few irregularities
in the ground afforded partial cover, and as Dyche
was weary of his hours of crawling, he made for the
bush with the hope of getting a little rest. B}'' inches
he worked his waj% and after five hours' crawling he
was at the edge of the cove, sheltered by a small
scrubby tree.

Covering the crown of his cap with twigs from the
tree, he slowly lifted his head and peered into the
cove. In that single gUmpse he felt repaid for all

HOW THE SENTINEL FELL.

ill

the toil which he had undergone. Not over seventy-
tivo yards away wa < a band of sixteen as fine rams as
man ever set eyes on . He could hardly believe that
he was awake, for +here, in plain sight, were the
sheep, some lying down chewing their cuds, others
feeding, while still others were walking aimlessly
about the cove. Now the naturalist began examining
each individual member of the band for the purpose
of selecting the best specimen.

There stood a monster, but his colour was a little too
light. Ah, there is a grand fellow ! He is the one.
But no, his horns are blunted at the points. There
is the right one. What magnificent horns! What
a beautiful chestnut colour ! He is the one to adorn
the naturalist's exhibit at tlie World's Fair. The gun
is carefully trained on the animal and almost fired,
when a glance is given to the one on the top of the
crag;;. He is evidently the patriarch of the band.
Vf hat a beauty ! Perfect in size, shape, and colour,
with immense horns. But he is fully two hundred
yards away. Shall the chances betaken? The ques-
tion was soon solved, for Dyche made up his mind to
have that leader if he never shot another sheep. The
band was close enough to give him a second shot
before it got out of range, and he trained the Reming-
ton on the sentinel. The old guard stood broadside
to the hunter and presented a fine target. A puff of
smoke, a loud report, and then there was the sound of a
mighty rushing and scrambling of hoofs in the cove.
Hurriedly slipping a fresh cartridge into the gun, the
naturalist ran to the edge of the cove, but just got a
glimpse of the band disappearing over the slope to-
ll

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152

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

wards the woods. He was too late for another shot,
as the last of the band went into the timber as the
gun was raised.

Turning his attention to the old ram at which he
had fired, Dyche hastened, as rapidly as the lay of the
ground would permit, to the top of the crag. He
was sure that he had not missed, but when he
reached the spot not a sign of the ram was to be
seen. Not a drop of blood, not a hair was found
which would indicate that a wounded sheep had ever
stood on that rock. The hunter's disappointment
was almost too great to be borne. He had left a sure
shot in a vain attempt to accomplish too much, and
had lost the best opportunity he had ever had to se-
cure a fine specimen.

Making a circuit of the crag, he saw where the
ram had bounded away towards the woods. The
tracks were plain, but not a drop of blood was to be
seen anywhere along the trail. With a feeling of
disappointment that almost amounted to despair,
Dyche followed the trail mechanically. But he knew
there was no possible hope of overtaking that band.
Slowly he followed the tracks down the slope until
he found where they joined those of the main band,
and then he could see the broad trail where the flee-
ing sheep had ploughed up the ground in their mad
leaps down the declivity. Two days' hunting and six
hours of most wearisome crawling had been wasted,
all because he was not satisfied with what was in his
grasp, but must reach out for the unattainable.

With anything but pleasant thoughts the natural-
ist followed the trail of the fleeing animals through

.1 PECULIAR WOUND.

153

the park. Clear across the park ho oonld Rtn? the
fresh dirt which had been thrown up in the flight,
but no sheep was in sight. He sto^xl looking at the
distant mountain-tops for a few minutes, delv*ting
whether it would be wise to follow the band, and
then decided to return to camp and lament his folly.
Just as he turned in the direction where v)ld Charlie
had been left feeding, a moving object in the itlge of
the timber caused him to throw up his gun. As he
did so an old ram walked slowly out into the opening
and stopped in plain view with its head down and
then sank slowly to the ground. Dyche walked to
within fifty yards of the animal, but it never moved,
and approaching nearer, the naturalist saw that the
ram at which he had fired was dead at his feet. The
ball had entered too high to hit the heart and too low-
to break the back, and the wound was of such a nature
that all the blood ran into the cavity of the body,
which accounted for the absence of blood on the
rocks.

The revulsion of feelings from his deep disappoint-
ment was so great that the hunter felt literally re-
freshed, and proceeded to measure and skin his prize,
after which he carried the load to old Charlie and
made his way to camp. He longed for his com-
panions now, to share with him the joy of the prize,
but he was too tired to waste time in regretting their
absence, and was soon sound asleep after his hard
day's work.

Dyche now had plenty of rams, but he needed
ewes and lambs to complete his collection. Several
days were spent in fruitless stalks after bands of

154

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

sheep, and then it was decided to go farther north to
another range, where possibly the eweB and lambs
coidd be found. The specimens were cached, and
the hunters started through deep carious and over
rocky crags, going two days in this way until they
reached the wildest country they had yet seen. Dur-
ing the day Dy die's watch stopped, and in order to
get the time two strings were hung in line with the
north star. At noon next day, when the sun threw
the shadow of one string on the other, the time-piece
was set at twelve, and in honor of the event the place
was named Camp North Star.

A band of sheep was seen that evening on the top
of a high mountain, and next day Dyche saw a band
of fourteen and made a long and tedious stalk to get
near them. The animals were feeding in a patch of
timber, and the hunter could get no closer than within
two hundred yards of the band. The sheep were in
a patch of timber on the side of the mountain, and
the n.'ituralist sat patiently waiting for them to feed
towards him. They appeared to be travelling slowly
his way, but he could only get occasional glimpses of
them through the woods.

Suddenly he heard a rushing sound, and looking
from his hiding-place he saw a small band of sheep
fl^'ing up tlie mountain, while the others were mak-
ing as good headway in another direction. The wind
had changed, and they had got scent of the hunter
and were thoroughly frightened. Well knowing the
futility of a pursuit, Dyche made his way back to
camp, killing a white-backed woodchuck and a grouse
as he went.

*««

THE COLLECTION COMPLETED.

155

A cold wind was blowing from the northwest
and snow-flakes were filling the air next morning,
but Dyche \ as determined to secure a lamb and ewe
if possible. Saddling old Charlie, he rode five miles
west. About noon he saw two old ewes and a year-
ling. Jumping from the horse, he stalked the little
band which was working his way. They fed on
towards him until they were within sixty j^ards of
his hiding-place. Concluding that he could kill the
yearling with a load of shot from the shot-gun and
follow it up by killing a ewe with the rifle, the natu-
ralist opened fire and saw the yearling running c«,t
full speed towards the timber as if nothing had hit it.
Snatching up the rifle he sent a ball after it, dropping
it at the edge of the timber. The ewes, of course,
were out of sight, and this incident caused Dyche ever
after to discard the shot-gun when hunting big game.

As supplies were running short the specimens were
taken to Thorp's ranch, and the hunter outfitted for
another hunt after ewes and lambs. The trip to the
ranch and back to Camp North Star was made with-
out incident, and on the morning after the return
Dj'che took an early start, and by sunrise was on the
flat top of a mountain where he had seen so many
indications of game.

About ten o'clock a spot was reached whev«> the
numerous signs showed that a large h^^ixd v)f shoop
had been feeding recently. i.^i the south side of the
mountain the wind and rain of summer and the
frosts of winter for centuries ha>d been breaking off
masses of rock, whiv^i had aocumnlated in a sheltered
nook. The sheei ' ved out this soft, crumbling

_, , . -vi'-^ - , !,■ " jt ~jt -.

156

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

•)

rock and mado beds, which were lined with gravel
and smooth stones and were dry, showing that they
had been occupied very recently. There were over
seventy of these beds, and Dyche began to work very
carefully, for he was confident that he was near a
large band. About half a mile from the beds he
reached the edge of the flat top of the mountain, and
crawling to the edge he peered over. A great, un-
dulating slope stretched from the mountain-top to the
woods on the other side, and this was scanned closely,
until at last the naturalist made out moving objects
below. They were sheep, and over thirty were in
sight at one time. The wind was in the hunter's fa-
vour, but the country was bad for stalking, as the
animals were feeding over a large open space and
were scattered in small bands.

Making a long circuit, Dyche went down a canon
and approached the game from another direction.
From his new position he could count fifty-seven
sheep, but the nearest was three hundred yards
away, and the naturalist could see no way of getting
nearer without being seen. He took another two-
mile circuit and again approached the timber. From
its edge he crawled up a small ravine, fearing each
minute that some of the animals would take alarm and
scatter the band. The head of the ravine was finally
reached, and lifting his head carefully he saw five
sheep within a hundred yards. Two old ewes and
three small bucks, probably yearlings, were feeding
within easy range, but Dyche wanted a lamb, and
hesitated whether to shoot at the sheep in sight or
wait for a better opportunity.

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til

THE COLLECTION COMPLETED.

157

Deciding to try again ho began a retrograde move-
ment, although he ran the risk of frij^htening
away the whole band. He felt, however, that if ho
missed a lamb this time he would have great diffi-
culty in getting so close to one again. Crawling
slowly up another ravine, he got sight of an old ewe
and a lamb. They were just what ho wanted, but
they were over two hundred yards off and there was
no possible way of getting closer. He determined to
let them go, and crawled back to the woods and went
up another ravine. He had crawled about two
hundred yards when two sheep fed along the head of
the ravine. The naturalist flattened himself to the
ground, fearful that he had been seen. The animals
fed in almost the same place for fully an hour,
and the hunter was just beginning to feel that he
would have to move even at the risk of scaring away
the whole band, when they went around a knoll.

Crawling to the head of the ravine Dyche carefully
lifted his head, but there was nothing in sight.
Waiting a few minutes he crawled out on the grassy
slope, hiding himself as much as possible, flattening
himself to the ground. His movement was evidently
seen by some watchful sheep, for ho suddenly heard
a tremendous rushing of the frightened animals, and
jumping to his feet saw sheep everywhere going at
full speed. The Winchester was trained at the flying
animals, and an old ewe received the first shot.
Without waiting to see the effect of the shot, another
ball was sent after a lamb that was just going over
a knoll. The ewe made a few jumps and dropped,
and fifty yards over the knoll the lamb lay dead.

V
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158

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

The bullet had struck him in the hip and ranged for-
wards to the neck, not coming out.

All this stalking had occupied much time, and it
was now between three and four o'clock in the after-
noon and camp was a long way off. An hour was
spent taking notes and measurements and skinning
the animals, and then Dyche started for camp, carry-
ing the load of skins, skulls, and a portion of the lamb.
The way was long and rough, and finally he was com-
pelled to cache the greater portion of his load and
proceed with his quarter of lamb.

Next morning it was snowing heavily, and the
northwest wind cut to the bone. Dyche waited
for a cessation of the storm, but finding that
there were no indications of a lull he saddled Slim
Jim, the meanest and fattest horse in camp, and
started after his specimens. The snow had changed
the appearance of the country so much that he
could hardly make out the landmarks which he
had noticed the day before, but just as he was
about to give up the search he saw a moving object
among the trees. Suddenly an old ram came into
view at the edge of the timber. Jumping from his
horse, Dyche began to unfasten his gun and the ram
started for the timber, climbing up the rocky ledge.
By the time the gun was out of its fastenings the ram
was at the top of the ledge, but here he made a mis-
take. He stopped to look back. Just at that moment
Dyche dropped on one knee and sent a bullet after
him. As the gun cracked the sheep jumped away,
and Slim Jim did likewise. Dyche spent fifteen min-
utes catching the horse, and then went to look for

THE COLLECTION COMPLETED.

159

the sheep, which ho found just over the ledge, stone
dead.

Very little time was spent in the measurements
and skinning, and Dyche started to camp with the
load, intending to leave the ewe and lamb for next
day ; he knew that nothing would touch them, for
two handkerchiefs floated over them as danger-sig-
nals. While wandering around trying to find the
way to camp he reached the spot where he had killed
the ewe and lamb, and thus getting his bearings soon
found where ho had cached the skeletons and skins.
Placing these on Jim's back, the whole load was
taken to camp.

The naturalist now had a complete collection of
sheep of all ages and kinds which made up a complete
family, and he concluded that he had had enough
sheep-hunting. In addition to the sheep, he had
many smaller specimens and several fine mule
buck skins and skeletons. Several days were spent
in getting out of the country. Horns and skeletons
are not easily carried on horses, for the rough and
rocky trails are liable to cause accidents which will
break the fragile bones. It was after dark when
camp was made the first night, and it took until
nine o'clock next morning to get the packs arranged
again. Everything was piled up in such away that
the place was named Camp Confusion.

About noon the trail led through a patch of blue-
berries, and here the horses were unpacked and the
hunters regaled themselves on the berries. Those
were of two kinds : a large variety with a whitish
bloom on the berry and a small black one. The

! \

ICO

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

largo ones were full of moat, while the small ones
were very juicy, and a judicious combination made
a very palatable dish.

Dyche and his companion had now been living on
a meat diet for ten days, and they were beginning to
feel the effects of it. As they were within a day's
journey of Thorp's ranch, a pint of navy beans, which
had been held in reserve in case of sickness, was
brought out and made into soup. So well did the sup-
I)er please the naturalist that the camp was at once
christened Camp Bean Soup in honour of the occasion.
Breakfast was made from the rest of the soup next
morning, and late in the afternoon they reached
Thorp's ranch, tired and hungry.

Thorp's garden, full of ripe vegetables, had a charm
for the hungi'y hunters, and Dyche regaled himself
with tomatoes from the vines. Letters from home
were waiting for him by the dozen. The regular rate
of postage was twenty-five cents, but Loomis, the
postmaster, bunched the lot at ten cents each.

Several days were spent in packing and storing
specimens, but Dyche was not yet ready to leave the
country. He knew that Rocky Mountain goats and
caribou were to be found somewhere in this vicinity,
and he meant to have some of them if possible. Many
were the stories told him about the mysterious Kettle
River country. There were hundreds of miles of
unbroken forests where foot of white man had never
trod, where game in vast numbers was so tame that
deer would not run when man approached, and
where wolves roamed in ferocious bands. While
Dyche was a little sceptical about these stories, he

THE COLLECTION COMPLETED.

161

thought there must be something in them. Caribou
and goats were the specimens tliat he now wanted.
Indians told of great droves of caribou which wan-
dered hundreds of miles up in the woods at the head-
waters of Kettle River, and the naturalist felt that
he could go where an Indian could, and ho deter-
mined to make the journey.

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Sciences
Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14S80

(716) 87a-4S03

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CHAPTER XI.

On Kettle River— Okonagan Smith and his LonelyRanch — Tlie
Great Northern Boundary — Trials and Tribulations — " Fool
Hens '' — Through Fallen Trees — An Arduous Journey.

II NE hundred miles up the river was a
cabin built by three noted trappers and
mountaineers — Farrell, McLaughlin, and
Dore. Beyond this cabin was an unex-
plored wilderness where no white man was ever known
to have been and where few Indians had ever wan-
dered. An unbroken forest stretched away hundreds
of miles to the far north to the foot of the white-
topped mountains, on whose slopes vast herds of deer
and caribou were supposed to roam, and where bears,
wolves, and mountain lions were thought to be in
countless numbers. The white crags and peaks of
the mountains were supposed to be the home of goats
and sheep. All this was surmise, however, for man
had never been there to report. Caribou had come
down as far as the trappers' cabin during the coldest
weather of the winter before, and five had been killed
and many seen near the camp. Immense droves of
gray wolves had ranged about the cabin, while
wolverines and bears had left many tracks.

All these stories indicated that the trip would be
interesting, to say the least ; but Dyche had heard too

162

:■

SMITirS LONELY RANCH.

163

much of this kind of talk to be deterred from his un-
dertaking, and after two days of rest at the trading
post he was ready to start into the unknown land.

Twenty miles of tedious travel over a dry and dusty
road carried them to Okonagan Smith's ranch, on the
shore of the lake which had given its name to the
settler. For thirty years this man had been cultivat-
ing a piece of land there, and he still has the country
all to himself. His ranch extended into the lake in
such a manner that it could easily be irrigated, and
it held a fine bearing peach and apple orchard. Here,
with his Indian wife and two half-breed daughters,
he was happy and contented away from the cares of
civilisation.

After a bad night on account of the kicking and
squealing horses, an early start from the ranch was
made. The route lay eastward, over a country where
there was plenty of wood, water, and grass, and
Dyche felt that that trip was to be one of pleasure
instead of the hardships which he had previously un-
dergone. As the sequel will show, his calculations
were wrong. While passing along over easy trails
through the timber, the naturalists came into an
opening where the trees had been cut down and a
broad way cleaned off as if a right of way for a rail-
road had been cleared through the forest. The work
had evidently been done several years before, as the
stumps were old. The broad path could be seen
stretching away for miles in each direction, going
right over mountain and through valley, never devi-
ating from a straight line. The strange appearance
greatly puzzled the hunter and his companion, and

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Vf\^*m

81', ♦
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kfm y-

164

CAMP FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

it was not until they reached a small settlement on
Rock Creek that the mystery was cleared. They had
seen the dividing line between the dominions of Eng-
land and the United States.

That night they were compelled to camp in the
dark, with neither water nor grass, and they chris-
tened the place Camp Necessity. When morning
came they found that they were near an old Indian
camp. On all sides bones of deer were found, and a
stack of antlers twenty feet high had been piled up
between two trees. They travelled until nine o'clock
before they found water and grass. All day long
their way lay through a dense forest. No life was
to be seen except vegetable life, and not a sound was
to be heard except the wind in the tree-tops. After
a hard struggle through the fallen timber an open
spot was reached on the river-bank late in the even-
ing. A beaver dam showed its top just above the
water, and the trees on the bank gave evidences of
the work of the industrious animals. One tree which
had been cut had a diameter of over four feet, and
from this the camp received the name of Camp
Beaver Tree.

A light rain, the first of the season, fell during the
night, and next morning they started early, trying to
follow the old trail of the trappers. About the mid-
dle of the afternoon the cabin, on the banks of a little
stream which emptied into Kettle River, was reached,
but no stop was made. About four miles farther up
the river an opening was found where there was
grass and water, and here camp was made for the
night. The stillness of the dense woods was simply

fii

TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS.

165

awful. The only sound that broke the silence was
the dismal hooting of a number of owls which made
night hideous with their peculiar cry. The uncanny
sound produced such a nervousness that sleep was
much interrupted, and after naming the place Camp
Owl Hoot the hunters made haste away from the
spot. A tall tree was climbed and the lay of the land
noticed, and the northward way resumed about
daylight.

An almost impenetrable forest was now Ixjforo
them. No trail was to be found. The rivulet was
dry, and the bed of this was followed until it ended
at the foot of a ridge. On the ridge a grassy spot
was found where a few deer-tracks gave the first in-
dication of animal life. In every direction from this
spot dense thickets of poles stood in such confusion
that it was necessary to cut a way through. Tliis
labourious proceeding was continued until late in the
evening, when a small lake was reached and camp
made for the night. The lake was alive with water-
birds, and a fat mallard duck made a supper for the
hunters. All seemed peaceful when the tired natural-
ists crawled into their sleeping-bags, but scarcely
had they composed themselves when a series of
shrieks and yells, whic^ appeared to come from the
vicinity of the lake, sent them bounding from their
beds to their guns. The sound died away, and after
waiting in suspense for some time they again sought
rest. They slept soundly until just at daylight, when
again the unearthly cries broke the stillness, and
the hunters hastened to their feet. An investigation
showed that a flock of loons had been feeding on the

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166

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

I/;

lake near the camp, and it was tlieir cries that caused
the alarm.

No sign of a trail could be fijund, and all day the
cutting of poles was continued. Night found the
hunters still in the midst of thick woods, and Dyche,
finding a caribou horn, took it as an omen of good
luck and made camp on the spot.

All next day was spent in a similar manner. The
party was still headed up Kettle River, and pene-
trated the dense mass of poles and fallen trees. They
were in a veritable terra incognita. No hatchet or
axe had ever been used in the whole expanse of
country. No sign of the presence of man was to bo
found anywhere. It was hard and lonesome travel-
ling, and forage for the horses was always uncertain,
but there was a fascination about it. They never
knew at what moment they might meet vrith some
exciting adventure.

Just as night was coming on they saw a flock of
Canadian grouse, which were so tame that six of them
were killed with sticks and stones. These beautiful
birds are known in the country as "fool hens," on
account of their tameness. Camp Fool Hen was
christened and supper made of the birds. The cocks
are a mottled gray with black breasts. A small fiery
red comb stands up above the eyes, and usually they
are strutting around like miniature turkey-gobblers.
When approached they would run a few feet out of
the way or fly to tli'' ^.owest branches of the nearest
tree and sit until they were knocked over with sticks.
Over thirty of them were killed on this trip up Kettle
River with sticks and stones. Dyche found four in

THROUGH FALLEN TREES.

167

an open space, and with a pole twelve foot long killed
all of them.

All next day was spent in a w^earisomo march over
fallen logs and through pole thickets, until the whole
party, horses and all, were almost worn out. All day
long the horses had been led through the wilderness,
jumping over logs and crawling through narrow
places until their legs were covered with scratches
and bruises. Old Charlie would try anything in the
shape of a log, and would jump any not higher than
his breast. Billie was of different mould, and would
stand and shake his head at every obstruction. If
he did not jump when the head-shaking was fin-
ished, that was the end of it, for no power on earth
could make him go over, and he had to be led around
or a path cut through for him. Camp was made in
the densest woods where a little water seeped through
the moss, and as a chickadee flew near and enlivened
the place with his chirp, the place was christened
Camp Chickadee.

Next morning Dyche climbed to the top of the
tallest tree in the vicinity and endeavoured to make
out the way through the forest. To the north rose
the white-topped mountains, seemingly only about
ten miles away,, and this sight so inspired him that
the party went forwards with better heart. For about
a mile the way led through comparatively open t„n-
ber, and then an immense spruce forest was entered.
A fire had raged through this some time before and
left a mass of fallen logs that was almost impene-
trable. Huge logs lay in greatest confusion, com-
pelling the travellero to turn and twist in every con-

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168

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST,

V \

ceivablo direction, over and under, until they had to
stop from sheer exhaustion . The horstsi - were j umped
over logs until they could jump no more. The hunt-
ers chopped logs until it was almost impossible to
lift an axe. Then they came to a stand-still. A
little prospecting discovered water and grass in a
Bwampy place near by, and an hour was consumed
in getting the horses to the spot. It was late in the
afternoon, and camp was made in one of the wildest
places ever visited by man. The swamp was full of
high and low bush blueberries, and a quart of these
supplied the supper, while the sparse g^rass made a
meal for the horses. One day of rest was taken here,
for while it was not a good place to camp, it was bet-
ter than the continuous travel through the wilderness
of poles and fallen timber.

The density of the forest was so great that the
white tent could not be seen fifty yards away, and to
leave camp was a dangerous undertaking. One per-
son was compelled to remain at the tent all the time
to give necessary signals when the other went out to
look for game or to spy out the way. Bear, deer, and
caribou tracks were seen in the swamp, but it was
impossible to hunt them in the dense woods. One
deer came near the camp and was shot for meat.

A careful examination of the country showed the
futility of an attempt at farther progress in that
direction, and the back track was taken for five or six
miles, and then an attempt was made to go east.
Seven miles in this direction were covered when
night came on, and they were compelled to camp.
Dyche st.arted on a prospecting tour, blazing his way,

AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY.

IG'J

in un attempt to find some way out of the country,
but he gave it up in despair. Naming the place Camp
Last Attempt, next morning they turned south and
travelled until they found a place where the ground
was moist. A hole was dug, and the seepage gave
enough water to fill a quart-cup. So careful were the
hunters with this that they dipped it from the hole
with a spoon for fear of losing a drop. The horses
were compelled to go without water until Camp
Chickadee was reached next day.

Resolving on one more effort next day, a northeast-
erly direction was taken with the hope of leaving the
worst of the swamp to the v^est. After a hard day's
travel a small opening in the woods was found whore
there was water and grass. Camp was made, and
Dyche was soon at the top of a tall tree looking over
the country. The bald tops of the mountains looked
invitingly near, and it was determined to get to them
if possible. There was sufficient grass to last the
horses two days, and it was decided to leave them
here and proceed on foot to the base of the mountain.
Dyche carried the axe, and the two men started due
north, blazing a trail through the deep woods. They
were comjielled to zigzag through the timber, and
while the blazes, were frequent and large, there were
none too many when they returned.

At three o'clock in the afternoon the base of the
mountains was reached, and they hastened to the top,
where many tracks of deer and caribou were seen.
On all sides droves of deer were feeding en the
rich grass which grew in profusion on the slopes.
From the top of the mountain the country was ex-

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

amined. The apparently boundless forest through
which they had come appeared to be a small grove
compared with the forest which spread out before
them. An hour was spent here, and then the hunters
hastened down to the timber to find the way back to
camp. At the edge of the timber they found the
blazed trail which led to the little white tent miles
away in the trackless forest. If the darkness should
prevent them from finding this trail, then the search
for the tent would be hopeless indeed.

Evening came on and then darkness, and then the
blazes could no longer be seen. One of the hunters
would stand by a blazed tree while the other went on
until he found the next one, and thus they proceeded,
almost groping their way, until half-past ten, when
they came to the opening and found the tent. It
was late next morning when they arose, and they
at once came to the conclusion that the only thing
left to do was to get back out of the country as soon
as possible. It was evident that they could not hunt
to advantage in such a jungle, and if they killed
anything it would be almost impossible to get the
specimens out of the country. The pack-horses were
so weakened by lack of grass and water that the}'^
could carry nothing more than they had, and the
specimens would be so torn that they would be use-
less. The back track was taken in a snow-storm, and
the hunters were almost discouraged over their bad
luck. The whole day was spent chop] Ing a trail
through the dense thicket with neither grass nor
water.

They were compelled to camp without water, and

AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY.

171

when they began to prepare supper they found that a
hole had been torn in the gunny-sack in which was
carried the meat, and the bacon and remaining veni-
son had fallen out on the trail. Search was made for
water, and a little was found a quarter of a mile
away. Supper of oatmeal mush, biscuit, apple-sauce,
and tea was a light diet for hungry men, but it was
the best that now remained until they could find some
game. Next morning Dyche hunted back three or
four miles in hopes of finding the lost meat, but with
no success. He killed a " fool hen," but all other ani-
mal life appeared to have deserted the forest. Even
the few woodpeckers which flitted about tho trees
seemed so cowed by the stillness that they neither
tapped the trees nor cried.

The silence of these forests was fairly appalling.
Not a sound broke the quiet but the moaning of
the trees as they rubbed against each other. It
rained, and the water came through the dense tops as
a fine mist. It snowed, and the flakes sifted down
through the spruce boughs like finely ground flour.
In this dreary lonesomeness the sound of the human
voice appeared strange, and words were rarely spoken
above a whisper.

In the course of the night the snow turned to rain,
and next morning an easterly direction was taken.
Down a caiion and up on a ridge their way led for two
hours, when the top of the mountain was reached.
From the tops of trees it was discovered that a flat
country lay to the northeast, and the trail was turned
in this direction. Again and again were trees
climbed in hope of seeing something, and at last a

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

number of lakes appeared still farther to the east. A
straight trail was taken to this spot, and the lake
was reached just at dark in the midst of a heavy
snow-storm. The body of water was small and was
full of beaver, from which fact it received the name
of Beaver Lake.

After breakfast next momin^^ .t little prospecting
was done, and it was foun*^ %at Beaver Lake emptied
into a larger lake. In the centre of the large lake
was a small island, and it was named Island Lake.
Camp was moved to the shore of Island Lake. Hero
was found a regular runway of animals. A path
made by bears, deer, caribou, wolves, and wolverines
led all around the lake. It was evidently the spot
where game could be found in abundance, and was
just the place for a long stay. But Dyche and his
companion had a dispute over the direction of the
points of the compass, and as the sun decided in
favour of the naturalist, his guide had such a fit of
sulks that he insisted upon leaving the country at
once. It was a foolish move, but it would have been
a worse one for Dyche to have attempted to remain
there alone. The back trail was taken next morn-
ing through deep snow, under bushes which were
bending with their load of the frozen crj'stals.

Out of meat and with provisions getting scarcer
every day, the situation was desperate. While bean
soup was considered quite a delicacy when properly
made and when not eaten too often, it was found
that it lacked flavour when it lacked bacon. " What
is bean soup without bacon?" was an expression that
became indelibly fixed in the mind of the naturalist.

AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY.

17t

All day was spent in travelling through the forest, •
and late in the evening camp was made about four
miles above the old cabin, whence the trail led out to
civilisation. A halt was made here for one day, and
a fine two-point buck was killed, giving thorn wel-
come meat after their privations. At four o'clock in
the afternoon of the next day the cabin was reached,
and was found to be occupied by four prospectors,
who were d^Hghted over the "colours" which they
had found in the creek. But indications of gold
held no chauu for the naturalist, and the way down
the river was continued. The horses were in bad
condition, and they travelled very slowly. During
ono of his side excursions after a straying horse,
Dyche shot a coyote, and this, with a dozen or so
skins of "fool hens," constituted the specimens
secured in a trip of over a month in the wildest part
of North America.

For two days they now travelled on a diet of veni-
son, as their provisions wore gone. A delicious re-
past of ripe peaches from Thorp's orchard freshened
them up and a good supper renewed their energies
so that they slept without care.

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ll

CHAPTER XII.

In the Cascades— A Forest Fire — After Rocky Mountain Goats
— The First Shot— Down the Mountain — A Successful
Hunter — A Night of Hardships — A Naturalist's Labours.

>HREE days spent at Thorp's ranch pre-
paring for an expedition after Rocky
Mountain goats put the horses in fair con-
dition for travelling, and they went along
at a good rate on the first day. The whole country
to the north and northwest was covered with smoke
from the forest fires which had been started by In-
dians to bunch the deer. Hundreds of the animals
were slaughtered and thousands of acres of the most
magnificent timber land in the country burned over
and ruined by these Indians. On the first day out
from Thorp's ranch thirty-seven deer were seen.
There was a camp of Indians near old Camp Victoria,
and 'lere Dyche stopped for a, few mmutes' talk with
the redskins. Dozens of dogs greeted him as he ap-
proached the camp, and about a dozen bucks came
out and stretched themselves on the ground near the
naturalist, with the exclamation *' How !"

As the red men could talk a little broken English,
the huntei endeavoured to get information from them
regarding game. The spokesman held up five fingers
and said, " Mowwicb," indicating that he had killed

174

A FOREST FIRE.

175

five deer. Then pointing to each of his companions
in turn, he held up the number of fingers suitable to
their achievements and repeated the word. Dyche
asked about sheep and the Indian pointed to the moun-
tains far to the west. He then asked about goats,
or "white sheep." The Indians consulted a little
and then pointed to the crags in the northwest and
said, " White sheep high up." One Indian supple-
mented this information with the remark, " Me no
hunt him," whereat the others laughed boisterously.
Dyche declined the invitation to"crme down," and
rode on until a suitable camping-place was found.

Several days were now spent on the trail over
mountains, through masses of rock and down timber,
while the whole country was almost obscured by the
smoke from fires which were raging on the other
side of the range. Finally farther headway was pre-
vented by the fire, and in a little valley, through which
leaped a sparkling stream and along whose edges
grew an abundance of grass, camp was made. A
fence of poles behind them and the fire below pre-
vented the horses from straying away. As usual, old
Charlie would not go away from the tent, and it
became necessary to lead him down to the stream to
keep him away from the camp. He seemed to pre-
fer the smell of the camp to the best grass on the
range. During the whole time he was in the moun-
tains he always remained within a few yards of the
tent unless he was driven away.

Immediately after camp was made Dyche started
on an exploring expedition. A light breeze was
blowing the smoke in great clouds up the east side of

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

the canon, and Dyche climbed the west side. After
hours of hard work he reached a projecting crag,
where the full beauty and magnificence of the moun-
tain fire burst on his gaze. Thousands upon thou-
sands of veritable monarchs of the forest were being
swallowed up in the dreadful conflagration. Ruin
v/as spreading over miles of territory, simply that
the lazy Indians might hunt more easily.

On the way down the mountain he noticed a bunch
of white bristly hair attached to a jutting rock, and
by the light of the camp-fire he decided that it had
been scratched from the side of a Rocky Mountain
goat. This convinced the naturalist that he was
near the animals for which this trip had been made,
and daylight next morning found him on his way up
the side of the mountain.

Here were the steepest and most inaccessible of the
steep and rugged Cascades. Long ages of frost and
sunshine had torn great masses of rock from the sides
of the projecting crags, which had plunged to the bot-
tom, ploughing immense furrows down the moun-
tain's sides and piling up in a confused jumble at
the base. From the almost perpendicular sides of the
precipices projected here and there shelves or benches
of rock, to which clung stunted and dwarfed growths
of pines and spruce, while zigzagging up from one
bench to another were little gulches or chasms
which gave the explorer an opportunity to reach the
top after the expenditure of great labour. Two
hours of hard work placed Dyche about two-thirds
of the way up the mountain, and here he found
a shelf running apparently around the face of the

AFTER ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOATS.

177

crags. Following along this bench he reached a
point overlooking the entire valley below, and here
he found, in the crumbling rock and debris, the bed
of a goat. It was similar to those which the sheep
had made, but sticking to the sides could be seen
the long bristly white hairs of the goat.

Here evidently the old billy had selected a spot in
which to chew his cud, for from this point he could
view the whole country at his leisure. A short dis-
tance farther on three more beds were found, and
many tracks indicated that this bench was the favour-
ite resting-place for goats. While proceeding cau-
tiously, Dyche was suddenly brought to a stand-still
by the noise of a stone rolling down the mountain
ahead of him. Well knowing that when stones move
some animal life must be near, he stopped and listened
until the noise was repeated, and then he ran to the
end of the bench, about a hundred yards beyond.
The increasing noise showed that some animal was
hastening down the mountain.

Slipping off his shoes and depositing his camera
with them, the naturalist started on a noiseless run
towards the place whence came the sound. At this
point the formation of the mountain was peculiar, in
that there were two shelves or benches, one a short
distance above the other. These were connected by
a series of gulches, thus leaving a number of jutting
crags extending from the upper bench. The animal
reached the end of the lower bench as the hunter ar-
rived at the end of the upper, and now began a race
back. As Dyche reached the crag he saw some white,
shaggy object just disappearing around the rock be-

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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low him. The first thought that flashed across the
mind of the naturalist was that it answered the de-
scription of a polar bear, and then he realised that he
had seen a goat. The animal was skulking along on
the lower bench at a fair gait, and Dyche turned and
ran back along the upper ledge as fast and silently as
possible. He reached the head of the first gulch
just in time to see the goat go behind the next crag,
and then made another run of about forty yards to
the next opening, where he got another sight of it.
Dyche was running up and down the mountain,
while the animal was going along on a level. Al-
most exhausted, and breathless from running so vio-
lently in the high altitude, his hmgs working to their
full capacity, perspiration pouring down his face, and
his heart throbbing as if it v/ould burst, the hunter
pressed on.

Another run and a rest and ho could hear the
stones rolling ahead of him. Again he ran fifty
yards, calling into play all his surplus energy, and
waited on the point of a crag, but again he was just
too late. He could hear . animal still ahead of
him. A run of a hundred yards at full speed placed
the hunter on a crag just in time to see the goat dis-
appear aboat seventy yards away. This sight was
suflicient to nerve the naturalist for one more effort.
A grand spurt was made for about twenty-five yards
up hill, and the head of the cove was reached. Dyche
stopped, gasping for breath and almost exhausted,
but stood stock-still and listened. Suddenly a big
white object sprang upon a crag in front of and be-
low him, not over seventy-five yards away. It

DOWN THE MOUNTAIN.

was a large goat, the animal which had givon
him such a chase. Wiping the perspiration from
his eyes, the naturalist drew down the Winchester
and compelled his muscles to be steady long enough
to take good aim, notwithstanding the fact that he
was almost sinking from exhaustion. Logs and
rocks obscured the goat, so that Dyche was com-
pelled to stand on tiptoe to get sight at the top of the
goat's back.

With the report of the gun the animal disap-
peared in a cloud of dust which rose from tlie spot
below whore it had been standing. Down the canon
rushed the excited naturalist after the goat. Roll-
ing and tumbling, he went down the gulch to the
place where the goat had been, but it was gone.
A cloud of dust, however, showed that the animal
was also rolling down the declivity ahead of him,
and without waiting to figure on the consequences
the hunter dashed after his prize. The melt-
ing snow had left a mass of debris in tbe gulch
which had been ground to dust and which was now
dry and light. The struggles of the goat sent this
dust rolling in clouds back to where the naturalist
was following and almost choked him. Slipping
and falling he hurried on, and at last saw the shaggy
brute lying on its back by the side of a log. As it
stood on the crag it had looked like a small albino
buffalo, and when dead the resemblance was al-
most perfect. The ball had gone through the top
of the back just above the spine and had paralyzed
the fore-legs. The goat was making ineffectual
struggles to get on its feet. Dyche rolled down to

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

within a few feet of the animal and lay there so ex-
hausted that he could not move.

It was well that the goat was disabled, for the
hunter could have done nothing to have stopped it
had it recovered sufficiently to start awaj'. Thus he
lay for full five minutes, gasping, before he could
recover sufficiently to attend to his game. Regaining
his breath and strength by degrees, the naturalist
finally began taking notes, and having dispatched the
goat with his knife, he walked back to the place where
he had left his camera. He photographed the animal
just as it had fallen. Three hours were now spent in
measuring and skinning the goat, and at three o'clock
in the afternoon the hunter started for camp at the
foot of a steep mountain.

The package of skin and bones was about as heavy
a load as Dyche could well carry, and to add to his
discomfort he was terribly thirsty. He had had
nothing to drink since he left camp early in the
morning, and his great exertions had caused such
violent perspiration that his system was depleted of
water. At four o'clock he had gone about half a
mile, and found himself on a shelf from which there
appeared no possible means of farther descent. A
lower bench was finally reached, but no water could
be found. While searching here for a path another
goat was seen feeding on a rocky ridge across a
small canon about four hundred yards away.

Removing his shoes, the naturalist began a stalk,
but soon found that he could not p'et nearer than
three hundred yards in that direction, so he crawled
back and descended to a lower level. Slipping along

A SUCCESSFUL HUNTER.

181

the ridge, he reached a spot wliich he supposed would
be within easy range of the goat. He peered round
the edge of the crag, but the animal had disappeared.
The goat, however, came from behind a rock and
stood about a hundred j^ards away. He was across
a canon, but the naturalist rested the Winchester on
a rock and after steady aim fired. The goat plunged
head foremost over the cliff into the canon below.
Dyche hastened back after his shoes and load of
skins, and went after his second prize, which he
found at the foot of the precipice.

The naturalist's thirst was so overpowering that
he determined to drink the blood of the goat, but
when he cut the animal open the strong musky odour
was too much for him, and he gftve up the idea.
Finding that little progress could be made down the
mountains with his load, he now determined to cache
his specimens and come back for them next day. A
tree was stripped of its branches with the exception
of a bunch at the top, and to this he tied the bundle
of skins and bones, and to make it even more con-
spicuous he tied his camera to the bare portion of the
trunk. The descent to the bottom of the mountain
was now made, and here he piled up stones to mark
the spot, and placed three piles of small stones on a
log. It was dark now.

Fully satisfying himself that he would have no
difficulty in finding the place where he had come
down the mountain, Dyche now set himself to the task
of reaching the river in order that he might qr -nch
the almost overpowering thirst. The river was near,
but the great masses of stone which had crumbled

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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from the mountain presented an almost impassable
barrier. At last the edge of the river was reached,
but he found another difficulty. Great piles of
rocks barred the way, and the steep declivity pre-
cluded all possibility of getting down. The sound
of the running and babbling water as it dashed over
the stones in the river-bed was maddening. D3xhe
struggled along, over bowlders and under logs, and
through bushes which held him back as if leagued
with the powers of darkness to restrain him in his
efforts. Darkness came on and still he struggled on,
fearing all the while that he would fall into some
hole in the rocks from which ho could never get out.
Feeling his way, he finally emerged, but he was
worse off than before, for here the fallen timber,
overgrown with bushes and briers, was so heavy
that it made a dense jungle. At times he would
run against a great rock that stood higher than
his head, and then he would get into a tangle of
briers so thick that minutes were spent in getting
through.

His exhaustion was now so great and his thirst so
maddening that the naturalist tore his way through
the briers and underbrush, unmindful of the cuts and
scratches. He was in a frightful condition, and felt
that his brain was turning from his tormenting thirst.
A patch of "devil's walking-sticks," a shrub whose
curved thorns hold all they catch, barred his way,
and he felt as if Satan himself had lent a hand to
keep him from getting water. At last, however,
he reached the river. A log reaching from the
bank gave him access to the water, and after wash-

A NIGHT OF HARDSHIPS.

188

npassablo

reached,

piles of

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Dyche

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om the
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ing his burning face and hands he began the work
of quenching his thirst. He drank slowly and finally
felt that he had sufficient. But as he started from
the water he felt the thirst again and drank again
and again.

Reaching the top of the bank, the naturalist sat
down to consider his situation. Ho had promised
himself that when he reached water he would camp
for the night, but now he felt so refreshed that he
thought he would get to the tent and have a good rest
and breakfast before he started again for his speci-
mens. By this time he was again very thirsty, and he
made another trip to the water before he started up the
river. He knew the camp was above him, but just
how far he could not tell. An hour or more was
spent in getting through the underbrush, and then
he was compelled to get another drink. He now deter-
mined to make one more effort, and if he failed he
would give up for the night. Stumbling along over
rocks and poles, ho soon found himself in a wilderness
of huge logs. It was so dark that he ran into the trees
before he was aware of their vicinity. Feeling his
way along, stumbling and falling, with bruised and
bleeding limbs, he was indeed a pitiable object, but he
pushed on and on. Finally he sat on a log and gave
up. He dozed and nodded from exhaustion, when
suddenly he heard a shot away up the canon. It was
evidently the guide making signals to bring him into
camp. Giving the answer he now pushed on, won-
dering why the shots sounded so far away. Once
again the shots were exchanged, and from the sound

he judged the camp must be fully five miles away.
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CAM! FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

Striking a match, he looked at his watch and found
that it was just eleven o'clock.

His hands and feet were burning and he was so
dead tired that when he sat down to rest he would
almost instantly drop to sleep, to be awakened by
almost falling from his seat. Then he would push
on again. The rushing of the water over the bowl-
ders, the weird sounds of the forest, the roaring of
the fires which raged on the opposite side of the cafion
combined to make night hideous and still farther de-
press him in his terrible condition; but he pushed
on, determined to reach camp, now that he knew the
direction of it.

The extreme exhaustion now began to tell most
strangely on Dyche's brain. Odd fancies and queer
hallucinations flashed through his mind, and thoughts
that under ordinary circumstances would have ap-
peared foolish now had serious consideration. At
last he reached a little opening in the jungle and
found himself in a small park. He had just begun
to breathe freer, when there arose at his feet some
huge animal which made two or three bounds away
and then stood stock-still. To say that the naturalist
was scared is putting it mildly. He lost entirely
the little of his self-control which had remained
after the awful experience of the night in the jungle.
Tears involuntarily came into his eyes, his blood
seemed to stand still, while chills began at his feet
and crept all over his body, up and down. Fright-
ened? He was so frightened that he felt that he
should go insane unless something happened to re-
lieve the awful strain. -

A NIGHT OF HARDSHIPS.

185

He threw his gun forwards, of course, at the first
movement of the animal, but the strange silence puz-
zled him. Not a sound, not a movement was made
by the big beast. Dyche thought he would light a
match, but gave up the idea for fear he would be at-
tacked when the brute saw what a puny thing he was.
He moved a few steps forwards, making as much noise
as possible, but the animal did not move. Again he
advanced, shuffling his feet, and the strange ob-
ject moved only a step or two and again stood
still. Dyche knew of no animal as large as this
which would act in that way, unless it was a grizzly
bear which had never seen a man. His next im-
pulse was to shout, for he knew that the human voice
had a wonderful effect upon wild animals. Acting
on this idea he shrieked and shouted, but not a sound
came from the place where the strange beast stood.
He called his guide, he called all the names he could
think of, but not a motion was made. Then he
shouted again and called his old horse Charlie. The
result was most startling. Old Charlie answered with
a whinny from the very spot where the strange beast
stood. Another call brought the horse to him, and
then Dyche cried from revulsion of feeling. He
petted the horse, and then fell to wondering what
could have brought him so far from camp. It was the
horse that had to be driven away to grass. Know-
ing that there must be a trail over which the horse
had come, Dyche took hold of his tail and endeavoured
to drive him back to the tent.

Charlie went forwards a few paces and then
stopped. Dyche clucked at him and struck him, but

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

the old fellow would only wander around in a circle.
At last the horse brushed past a pole on which hung
a gunny-sack. Dyche remembered noticing this as
ho came into the cafion, and now he began to wonder
how far that pole was from camp. He struck Charlie
again and made him go forwards. Suddenly there
loomed up beside him some big white object which
h< took for a rock, but on feeling it found that it was
ti tent. Charlie had not broken his record, but
was right in camp. In a few minutes a fire was
burning brightly and supjor was under way. It
was after one o'clock in the morning, and the guide
was not there. The shots . lad evidently been fired
far up the cafion by the man, who was also lost.
He returned to camp next day, having lain out on
the mountain all night.

By half-past two Dyche finished his supper, or
breakfast, and bath, and rolled into his sleeping-bag,
feeling that "all's well that ends well." But the
troubles of the night were not over. Just as he be-
gan to doze he felt something run across his bed, and
then heard a dragging noise on the floor of the tent.
A mountain rat was exploring the place. After
standing it as long as h could, the naturalist got up
and set a trap for the intruder. He had scarcely
got back to bed when the trap snapped and the rat
squealed. This noise had to be stopped, so Dyche
got up and killed the rat, setting the trap again.
The minute he touched the bed another marauder
was caught, and then until morning the trap was
kept busy and a family of seven rats were killed.
When the last one was gone it was broad daylight,

a circle,
ch huug
g this as
3 wonder
c Charlie
ily there
ct which
lat it was
ord, but

fire was
way. It
he guide
een fired
ilso lost.
1 out on

ipper, or
)ing-bag,
But the
as he be-
bed, and
the tent.
). After
5t got up
scarcely
d the rat
o Dyche
p again,
larauder
rap was
e killed,
laylight,

A NATURALIST'S LABOURS.

187

and not a wink of sleep had Dyche had. For once
in his life the episodes of the night wore too much
for tho naturalist's nerves and ho could not sleep.
Ho lay for two hours thinking of tho specimens away
up the mountain which must be brought into camp
and taken care of.

The previous day had be(>n nineteen hours long
and had been supplemented by a sleepless night, and
Dyche felt little like again climbing the mountain ;
but ho knew that if ho wjmted to preserve his goat-
skins ho must bring them into camp. His feet were
bruised, his hands and face scratched and sore from
the briers and '* devil's walking-sticks," and his whole
body ached from the extraordinary exertions of the
previous day; but he started after his specimens.
Not caring to repeat his experience of thirst, ho took
a powder-can of water with him. Following down
the river over the bowlders and through the thickets,
he finally found the piles of stones which marked tho
spot where he had descended the mountain.

But something was evidently wrong. Hours were
spent searching for the skins, but not a sign of them
or the tree which had been so plainly marked could
be seen. Up and down he climbed, searching in
every direction, and at last, after going away off
to one side, he found the place where he had killed
the old goat, and then following his trail he found
the cached specimens. He then found that in going
down the mountain the evening before he had gone
over a mile to one side before ho reached tho bottom
of the cliff. It was half -past three in the afternoon
when he reached the tree, and it was three hours

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188

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

later when he arrived at the foot of the mountain
with his load. He dreaded the hard climb over the
rocks to camp, but determined to do as much as
possible. Leaving the skin of one goat and the skulls
hanging to a rock, he started with the skin of the
old billy, which weighed thirty-eight pounds, and
managed to reach camp after eight o'clock. He was
soon asleep, after nearly forty hours of sleeplessness
and terrible exertion.

Next morning Dyche's knees were so sore and stiff
that he had to toast them before a hot fire and soak
them in vaseline before he could walk. This and the
two following days were spent in getting the remain-
ing skin and the skeletons into camp and dressing
them. These five days were spent in securing two
specimens, and as the three last days were in camp,
Dyche was well rested and started on the sixth day
for the mountains. While travelling down the moun-
tain a goat made its appearance about half a mile
away on a little flat-topped spur which extended out
from the main ridge. The animal was feeding and
could have been easily stalked from the main ridge,
but the wind was unfavourable, and Dyche concluded
to crawl down one canon and up another, under cover
of the crag on which the goat stood. Reaching the
spot where the animal had been feeding, the natural-
ist could see nothing of it. An examination showed
where a nanny and a kid had been feeding, and as they
were just what Dyche wanted, he proceeded very
cai'efully along the cliff. Hearing the sound of roll-
ing stones ahead of him, he hurried forwards and saw
an old she-goat with a kid on the other side of the

nountain
over the
much as
he skulls
in of the
nds, and
He was
plessness

and stiff
md soak
J and the
remain-
dressing
ring two
n camp,
ixth day
le moun-
If a mile
ided out
ling and
n ridge,
mcluded
er cover
bing the
natural-
showed
1 as they
Bd very
of roll-
and saw
3 of the

A NATURALIST'S LABOURS.

189

canon. With the crack of the ritle the old goat
pitched forwards and rolled down the slope, while
the kid hid behind some rocks. After waiting fully
five minutes for the kid to come out, the hunter
changed his position and the little fellow jumped
out and started to run. The gun cracked again,
and the kid went rolling down to join its mother.
It made a sheer fall of fifty feet. The skull was
crushed, the jaw broken in several places, the leg
and shoulder broken, the skin torn, and worst of all,
the horns were broken off and one lost. This almost
ruined the specimen, but Dyche spent twenty minutes
searching for the horn, and was fortunate enough to
find it. The kid was measured and skinned, and
then the search began for the old one. She had lodged
on a projecting ledge, and the naturalist was com-
pelled to work for some time to dislodge her. He was
finally compelled to get a long f .e and make, a lad-
der by which he got down to the goat, and here he
was compelled to tie himself to the rock to prevent
a fall while he worked over the specimen. Dyche
was so worn out that when he reached the foot of
the mountain he cached the specimens, and with only
a portion of the flesh of the kid he went on to camp.
He found, however, that the flesh, even of the kid,
was hardly fit to eat, for it was so permeated with
the musk cX the glands that it was unpalatable. On
this trip Dyche was fortunr.'e enough to find a spring
of pure water on the range, probably the only one on
the mountain, and this was always made the objec-
tive point of all trips hereafter.

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CHAPTER XIII.

A Peculiar Danger — Four Goats in Four Shots — A Rapidly
Disappearing Tribe — Description and Habits — A Persist-
ent Hunter,

MEANTIME the mountain fires had been
steadily increasing and advancing until
the camp was threatened, and Dyche be-
gan to fear that all his labour would be in
vain, for if the fire came down the mountain the
skins and skeletons would be destroyed. It was with
a feeling of great joy that the naturalist awoke next
morning and saw the rain pouring down. It was
the first of the season in that locality and came in
such quantities that the fires were soon checked and
then were drowned out entirely, with the exception
of smouldering logs here and there. The air cleared,
and the thin spiral columns of smoke ascending from
various points over the mountain were the only evi-
dences of the conflagration that had lately been
raging within a few miles of the camp.

Dyche at once started after his specimens and
brought them into camp, putting the skins in a pickle.
It continued to rain, and soon the tops of the moun-
tains took on a mantle of white; and as the rain in-
creased, the snow-line crept lower and lower, until it
reached the green of the timber. Now another dan-

190

aiHHi

A Rapidly
—A Persist-

had been
3ing until
Dyche be-
ould be in
ntain the
was with
s^oke next
It was

came in
eked and
exception
r cleared,
ling from
only evi-
tely been

lens and
a pickle.
le moun-
! rain in-
, until it
her dau-

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A PECULIAR DANGER.

191

ger menaced the hunters' camp. The peculiar for-
mation of the mountain caused great masses of rock
to split off, owing to the action of the water, and
immense bowlders were continually rolling down into
the canon. The stillness of the mountain would sud-
denly be broken by an explosion resembling the rattle
of musketry, and then a great mass of rocks would
lean out from the face of the cliff and topple over,
falling, rolling, and tumbling to the bottom and
sometimes going as far as the river. These rock
slides would crush everything before them, and im-
mense trees and bowlders were torn from their foun-
dations and hurled with the force of an avalanche
to the bottom.

This was very dangerous, for if such a slide ever
struck camp there would be nothing left to tell the
tale. One incident convinced the naturalist that he
could not get away too soon. It was after mid-
night when Dyche was aroused by a peculiar roaring
and rumbling noise directly above their heads on
the side of the mountain. The two men were out of
their sleeping-bags in an instant, and a run of thirty
yards placed them behind an immense tree which had
previously been selected for just such an emergency.
The tree was oyer five feet in diameter, but even
then Dyche feared that it would not withstand the
terrible force of the rocks. An immense landslide
had broken loose half a mile above the camp and
came roaring down with the speed of an express
train. It passed a few feet to the south of the
camp and expended its force among the bowlders
and in the river. Sleep was over for that night,

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192

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

SI i

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ii.

for they could not tell how soon another mass might
come down, nor did they know until morning that
their horses had escaped.

The continued rain and snow and the falling
rocks convinced Dj^che that he had better finish his
hunt as soon as possible and get away. He had
two fine skeletons and four skins, and the natu-
ralist would have been satisfied with these alone, for
he had as many as were possessed by all the museums
of the world ; but he felt that he ought to try once
more to get specimens while he was so near the
fountain-head. Next morning he went over the
ground traversed during the first hunt. It had
ceased raining and everything was covered with
snow. The naturalist wandered along, feeling re-
paid for his trouble in the beauty of the mountain-
tops after the snow-storm. But his meditations on
nature were soon diverted. At his feet he saw a
goat-track plain and fresh in the snow, and this
he followed over the rocks until it seemed to be
directed towards a bold crag which jutted out from
the side of the mountain.

The tracks led directly to the jutting crag, and
when that was reached Dyche was amazed to find
that the animals had gone around the cliff on a ledge
which a dog would have been unable to traverse.
The little shelf was but a few inches wide. On
one side was a sheer descent of hundreds of feet,
while the perpendicular wall rose to the clouds on
the other. The appearance of the place was such
that it seemed possible only for an animal with
wings to go around it, yet those goats had gone

-•^L

FOUE GOATS IN FOUR SHOTS.

193

over the ledge as calmly as if it were their usual
route. The naturalist found that he must retrace his
steps and ascend to a higher ledge before he could
work around the crag. Having done this, he was
moving slowly along the side of the mountain, keep-
ing good watch over the country, when he saw four
goats on the opposite side of the caiion.

The goats were over half a mile away, and were
evidently those which he had followed to the crag.
They were not as watchful as the sheep which he had
hunted, for thoy fed along with heads down. An
hour's stalk took the hunter to the spot where the
goats had last been seen, but they were gone. Fear-
ful that they had taken the alarm, Dyche walked
carefully along the ridge. Looking over into a
little draw, he saw them all feeding in a grassy spot
on the opposite side of a deep canon. Another hour's
hard work brought the naturalist near the game.
The animals were now in plain sight, not over two
hundred yards away. Skulking and crawling the
hunter reached a log, and behind this he lay and
watched the goats.

His first impulse was to shoot, for they were
within easy range, but a moment's reflection showed
him that they were feeding towards him. They
moved slowly, feeding part of the time and then
moving about aimlessly, but all the while coming
nearer and nearer. At last they were within a
hundred yards and in a comparatively clear place.
Carefully examining his gun to see that it was in
good order and that the sights were in place, Dyche
prepared for the shot. He examined the ground

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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and decided on the place to which he would jump
when he fired the first shot. Training the gun on a
low shoulder-spot on the first goat, he fired and then
jumped to his feet. The other three animals were
going at full speed towards the timber. A yearling
ran along a log and received a shot as it turned its
side to the hunter. It rolled from the log, and a shot
was sent after the hindmost of the other two, which
immediately sank down. The old nanny was over
two hundred yards away by this time and was nearing
the top of the ridge, but as the gun cracked she tot-
tered and fell. Four goats now lay dead in a straight
line up the hill, killed with four shots. Dyche could
not restrain his enthusiasm, and bounded up the hill
while the mountains echoed with his shouts.

An examination showed that four more fortunate
shots could not have been made. The first went
through the shoulder, the second through the liver,
the third went high, striking in the hip and ranging
forwards under the ear, while the fourth also went
high, through the shoulder and ranged forwards. It
was now half-past three, and by hard work the entire
load of skins was taken to camp by half-past eight.
After supper was over and his shins and knees were
well rubbed with vaseline, the naturalist sat up until
midnight dressing the skins. Next day, while going
for the bones, a fine mule buck was killed, which sup-
plied the camp with meat. Three or four days were
spent in getting the specimens to camp and in caring
for the skins and bones properly, and then another
hunt was taken over the grounds, which were now
becoming familiar to the hunter.

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v^ould jump
le gun on a
d and then
limals were
A yearling
turned its
, and a shot
two, which
y was over
vas nearing
:ed she tot-
1 a straight
>yche could
up the hill
its.

I fortunate
first went
1 the liver,
id ranging
1 also went
wards. It
: the entire
)ast eight,
inees were
at up until
'■hile going
vhich sup-
days were
I in caring
m another
were now

RAPIDLY DISAPPEARING TRIBE.

195

An early start placed Dyche on the top of the moun-
tain by nine o'clock, and a magnificent spectacle was
presented to his view. The heavy snow extended
down in irregular tongues of white to the velvety
green of the trees below. Lower down the frost-
touched quaking asps gave a glorious colouring to
the scene with their leaves of green and gold, just in
front of the sombre background of burnt forest on
the opposite slope of the mountain. The clouds had
passed away and the sun shone with unwonted brill-
iancy, while the pure and invigourating air gave
life to everything. This was the home of the Rocky
Mountain goat. Here he lives, away from all other
animated nature, and here he should roam for
ages to come. He has chosen for his home the land
where rugged crags and peaks stand as an almost in-
surmountable barrier against other animals and even
man is kept aloof. The sparse grass and such shoots
as he feeds on are out of reach of other ruminant ani-
mals, while the bleak and dreary mountains offer no
enticement to the carnivora. He is harmless and is al-
most worthless as far as food is concerned ; his skin is
so tender that it is valueless for commercial purposes.
All these facts being taken into consideration, the
natural supposition would be that the Rocky Moun-
tain goat would increase and become common on all
the high and bleak mountains. But such does not
seem to be the case.

The goat, at one time, is said to have roamed the
high mountain-tops of the Rockies and Cascades
from Northern Colorado to Alaska, bvit now he is
found only in the most inaccessible places of the far

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196

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

1 1

northern mountains. This range never exceeded
four hundred miles in width, and it is doubtful if
the southern limit ever reached Northern Colorado.
Hunters tell of the goats which they have seen in
Northern Colorado, but it is probable that they have
mistaken bands of female sheep for goats, which
they greatly resemble at certain seasons of the year.
It is certain that the animal abounds in parts of
British Columbia, but its capture is attended with so
much hardship that it is rarely sought for except by
those naturalists who are something more than room-
workers. The goat will be found for years by those
who are hardy enough to search for him, but there
will be few killed.

It was while such thoughts as these were passing
through the mind of Dyche that he saw a goat walk-
ing on a ridge about half a mile away. The animal
went to the point of a stony crag, from which it
viewed the country for ten or fifteen minutes. It
was so far away and the country was so rough be-
tween him and the animal that the naturalist was
in some doubt as to the best mode of procedure. The
goat solved the question by descending into one of
the stony canons, and as soon as it disappeared from
view Dyche began to stalk it. The goat came out
on another crag and looked around. It appeared
uneasy, and the hunter feared that it had winded
him. From this crag the goat descended to a still
lower one, and thence on down, until at last it ap-
peared at a distance of about three hundred yards.

Turning to the right the goat began ascending a
ridge, and calculating that its next appearance

BT.

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doubtful if
1 Colorado,
lave seen in
they have
)ats, which
3f the year,
in parts of
ded with so
r except by
than room-
rs by those
1, but there

ere passing
goat walk-
^he animal
n which it
inutes. It
) rough be-
uralist was
lure. The
nto one of
Bared from
came out
; appeared
id winded
i to a still
last it ap-
i yards,
icending a
ppearance

DESCRIPTION AND HABITS.

197

would bo on a certain stony crag, Dyche ran towards
this at full speed, dropping down behind a clump of
spruce trees just as he thought the animal would
come out. Ho waited about two minutes, and the
goat walked out on a ledge opposite to the natural-
ist. The goat made a beautifid picture with his
almost white body outlined against the gray granite
of the mountain, not over one hundred and twenty-
five yards away. He was across a canon, which
was always an objection with Dyche ; but a steady
rest across a rock gave a good aim, and the ball sped
to the white spot on the animal's breast.

The goat staggered forwards and tumbled over the
cliff, rolling to the bottom of the precipice, out of
sight. Hastening down, the naturalist found a fine
specimen. It was not so large as the first one killed,
but it was in much better condition as to hair and
colour. It was the whitest male that he had killed.
The colour of the goats is usually described as white,
but the hair has a yellowish tinge. Many of them
have a very dirty appearance, for the long hair is filled
with spruce needles, cone scales, dirt, and even little
stones, which they accumulate as they rub in the
dirt. Young kids have a streak of brown hair
running down the back and brown hairs scattered
all over the body. Yearlings show some of these
brown hairs, but as the animal grows older they al-
most entirely disappear. A thick coat of under hair,
or wool, is always present. In August the skins
show a splendid short growth of this, as then the
long hair is thin, most of it having been shed. The
long, coarse hair of the goat gives to it the ap-

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196

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

pearance of a small albino buffalo, except that the
buffalo has long hair on the fore-legs and shoulders
only, while that of the goat is long all over the body
with the exception of the lower parts of the leg3 and
upper part of the face.

The horns of this specimen were finely shaped and
without blemish. All goats have hoi us, those of the
old males reaching six inches in circumference, while
those of the females are but slightly smaller. The
horns stand well up, curving backwards and slightly
outwards. Behind them are the musk-glands, which
on the old males stand up two inches and are so
strongly impregnated with musk that they taint the
whole body, making the flesh u:" ^t for food. Near
t? ' horn these glands are bare a..d scaly, but away
from this part thej'' are covered with hair. When
cut open they show a pink colour and give out a
strong musky odour.

The goat's nose is covered with short hair to the
tip, with the exception of a narrow median streak
between the nostrils. The eyes are straw colour in
the living animal, but turn to a dark chestnut a short
time after death. Under the throat the coarse hair
hangs in a beard similar to that of the common goat.
The hair on the legs is long, as well as that on the
hump between the shoulders. This hump is one of
the peculiarities which has long puzzled naturalists
who have not taken the trouble to see the animal in
his native haunts. It is simply a lengthening of the
spinous processes of the dorsal vertebrae. The tail is
very short and the ears small and pointed. The lat-
ter are evidently of little use to the animal so far as

A PERSISTENT HUNTER.

199

hearing is concerned, for in every goat that was killed
on this trip the ears were so filled with ticks that the
insects formed a compact plug which it was necessary
to force out with a hard stick when cleaning the skins.
The feet are almost square and the outside rim of
the hoof is sharp, making a knife-edge which enables
the animal to grasp any crack or opening and thus
obtain a firm foot-hold.

The most common error of naturalists who have
never seen either a living or dead Rocky Mountain
goat is in regard to the position of the head. In nearly
all the cuts of the animal in books or magazines the
head is raised above the line of the shoulder. The
anatomical structure of the animal clearly precludes
this. The neck is short and set so low down that the
head cannot be raised above a line even with the top
of the shoulder. Taken as a whole, the proportions
of the goat are similar to those of an American bison,
or buffalo, on a small scale.

The specimen was skinned and the skeleton laid
bare, and tlien the naturalist attempted to carry the
whole load of skin and bones to camp. The load was a
heavy, awkward bundle, but he made his way along,
and by four o'clock in the afternoon reached a point
on the mountain above the camp. He was tempted to
leave his burden here and return for it next day, but
the thought that it meant a whole day lost caused him
to stagger on, and hf finally reached camp long after
dark. He found that there was not much in a load
of bones and skins to arouse any but a scientific en-
thusiasm, and he spent several hours after supper in

dressing the skins and rubbing his legs with vase-
14

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

11 ■ ii

line. Next day was Saturday, and iie remained in
camp looking after the specimens and fighting mag-
pies.

Provisions were now very short, and the place was
becoming more dangerous with each succeeding
day. The guide was eager to hurry away, but
Dyche could not leave until he secured more spec-
imens. Several days were spent on the moimtains
without success, and the naturalist was almost ready
to listen to the advice of his companion. One morn-
ing after several hours' fruitless hunting Dyche was
crawling carefully along a ridge, when he saw a
goat lying down on the point of a ledge. When
within seventy-five yards a shot was sent after the
animal, which staggered to its feet and then pitched
forwards and rolled over the rocks down the moun-
tain. The hunter hurried to the spot, but could find
no trace of his prize. After searching for some time
he at last descried the dead animal lodged on a little
shelf about a hundred yards below th spot where
he had shot it. For two hours ho tried in vain
to get to the animal, but he was finally compelled to
give it up. It was a great loss, as it was a fine young
male and wap needed to complete the series.

About the middle of the afternoon another goat was
seen. He was standing on a crag above the hunter,
looking down. Like all goats, it did not appear to
apprehend danger from above. A shot through the
shoulders sent the animal to earth, and it was after
dark when Dyche reached camp with the skin and
skeleton.

Next day while hunting along (ho mountain a bear-

f.Vi I

A PERSISTENT HUNTER.

201

tain a bear-

trail was seen and Dyche started to follow it. The
bear had picked out a good trail and travelling was
easy. While hurrying along the hunter caught sight
of a goat standing on a crag above him. It was ap-
parently looking directly at him, and Dyche feared
that he had been seen. Working his way out of
sight he tried to get above the goat. He climbed to
within a few hundred yards of the top of the moun-
tain and there found that farther progress was effect-
ually barred. Retracing his steps, he finally found
a way up and reached the top. With feet and legs
soaking wet from the damp snow, he found him-
self on the crag where the goat had been stand-
ing, but the animal was nowhere in sight. The
naturalist sat down to rest and eat his lunch, and
while doing this he noticed the goat standing on
the point of a crag belo\i him. Working care-
fully, he began to descend. A point about two
hundred yards above the animal was reached, and
then a careful stalk was begun to get closer, for the
sno c was falling too heavily to risk a shot at that
distance. Crawling down to within one hundred
and twenty-five yards, a shot was directed down at
a point between the goat's shoulders. It did not
move, and DycliB feared that his shot had been a
clean miss. Hastily slipping another cartridge in
the barrel, he was just about to fire when he
noticed a red stream running down the shoulder.
The animal began staggering, and fearing that
it would pitch forwards over the 'jliff, the hunter
sent another shot at it, trying to break its back, so
that it would sink in its tracks. This effort, how-

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

ever, was a failure, for the goat pitched heavily for-
wards and rolled down the mountain. Making his
way down, the naturalist found that he had killed
a large dry ewe, one of the finest specimens that he
had obtained. It was in perfect condition and was
fully i s h ' as an ordinary male.

T%\; lO (. Jays were spent in the mountains in
unsuccessfal hunting. The horses were running
down in flesh so rapidly and provisions were so low
that the necessity of leaving became at last deeply
impressed on the mind of the naturalist, and arrange-
ments were made to start. But Dyche was deter-
mined to have one more hunt. He started before
daylight for the mountains, in a heavy snow-storm.
Finding a bear-trail, he followed this some distance,
when it was crossed by a goat-track. Experience
had long since taouht him the futility of follow-
ing a bear-track, v.; lio turned his attention to that
of the goat. Fo fo'l?.>wed it for about half a mile,
when the animai was. ioen going down a ridge. The
goat saw the hunte. p^ about the same time and
started at full speed o\ er the rocks. Dyche followed
the trail in the snow, hiding as much as possible,
and at last saw tbj animal standing on a project-
ing point, lookiu!^ back. After long and circuitous
stalking it was iound that the goat had hurried on
up the mount' ' '. The track was again followed
until it enter. .^r n piece of timber. Here another
circuit was ma J and tracks of bears, wolverines,
and lynxes were seen, but the goat had not left the
wxxls. Dyche began circling around the mountain,
yy a: filing carefully. While creeping along in the

heavily for-

Making his

3 had killed

nens that he

bion and was

lountains in
ere running
were so low
it last deeply
and arrange-
le was deter-
arted before
snow-storm,
me distance,

Experience
'■ of follow-
ition to that
half a mile,
ridge. The
ie time and
;he followed
as possible,
n a project-
d circuitous

hurried on
m followed
!re another

wolverines,

not left the
e mountain,
long in the

A PERSISTENT HUNTER.

203

timber the hunter caught a glimpse of his quarry
just as it was disappearing among the trees.
A quick shot was sent after it and then it was lost
to view. Hastening to the spot, he found the
tracks and soon saw spots of blood. Following
these about three hundred yards he came upon 'the
animal, lying down. Its expression was any-
thing but mild, and to avoid accidents the hunter
sent another ball into it, killing it instantly. It
was a fine tv/o-year-old male and was just what
was needed to complete the collection. It was now
raining hard, and after two hours spent in taking
notes and measurements and skinning the animal,
Dyche threw the skin across his shoulders as a pro-
tection from the rain and started for camp. It was
almost dark and the distance was long, but the hunters
were to move the next day and it would not do to leave
the specimen on the mountain. He staggered along
and finally reached camp with his precious load.
His knees were in a fearful condition, but he rubbed
them until they felt better, and then spent several
hours preparing his specimens for packing.

The horses had had a long rest, but were in bad
condition from lack of proper food, and it was a hard
trip over the mountains to Thorp's ranch, which was
finally reached with as fine a lot of specimens as was
ever carried out of the country.

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'II

CHAPTER XIV.

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On Kettle River — Two Model Camp Companions — A Royal
Deer — Eating Beaver Tails — A Tramp over the Moun-
tains — Wolves about the Cabin — Varieties of Deer,

HREE days were spent at Thorp's ranch,
recuperating from the hardships of the
goat-hunt. Specimens were stored and
packed, and then arrangements were
made with Maurice Farrell and George McLaughlin
for a second trip up Kettle River. These men were
old mountaineers and knew every foot of the country
for many miles around. They were sure they could
take Dyche to where he could find caribou. They had
spent the previous winter at the cabir mentioned in
a former chapter, which they had built, and they had
brought out with them in the spring over a thousand
dollars' worth of furs. They had frequently seen
caribou near the cabin, and Indians had told them
that they were abundant on the mountains above.

These stories made Dyche believe that he could
accomplish the entire object of his trip to this country.
The start was made with a string of a dozen pack-
horses. McLaughlin's readiness in finding a trail
through the mountains and forests had earned for
him the title of Pathfinder, while Farrell was con-
sidered the best campman in the whole country,

204

'I ft

3ns — A Royal
^er the Moun-
)f Deer.

orp's ranch,
ihips of the

stored and
nents were
McLaughlin
e men were
the country
e they could
Thevhad
lentioned in
ad they had

a thousand
uently seen
told them
18 above,
at he could
lis country,
lozen pack-
ing a trail

earned for
11 was con-
le country,

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Off for a long tramp.

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TWO MODEL CAMP COMPANIONS.

205

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it

his especial forte being the preparation of a meal.
He demonstrated on this trip that he fully under-
stood the art of camp-cooking. Pancakes were
his specialty, and these were cooked in a style
that would put many famous chefs to shame.
With a frying-pan in each hand, he would keep them
turning and twisting with a simple movement of the
wrist until the cake would turn over with a precision
that caused each part to be perfectly cooked. Nor
was anything else neglected while this was being
done, for the trout or venison steak v/as cooked to a
turn, and the coffee and biscuits were never known
to be amiss.

The first camp was made at Wannacut Lake, and
while the Pathfinder and the naturalist unpacked the
horses and arranged the camp, Farrell prepared sup-
per, the first regular meal of the expedition. Fried
ham, boiled potatoes, fruit, pancakes, and coffee were
soon ready, and the signal which was always used on
this trip was given :

"Square yourselves for action, boys."

They "squared themselves, "and the principal com-
ment was that they wanted more. The alkali water
of the lake so embittered the coffee and pancakes that
it was hard to swallow them, but they managed to
make a good meal. The village of Wannacut was
about a mile from camp, and after supper Farrell
v/ent there with a bucket for water with which to
cook breakfast.

The horses had a good supply of water and grass at
Rock Creek, and next day at two o'clock in the after-
noon Kettle River was reached. Here Farrell and

1.. ,

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

Dyche left the outfit and went to a Chinese settle-
ment and purchased eighty pounds of "spuds," or
potatoes. These were placed in two bags which they
carried in front of them on the saddles, and then it
took all the rest of the day to catch up with the Path-
tinder, who had gone ahead with the train. On the
way " Kettle River Armstrong" was met, a ranch-
man who devoted his attention to raising horses on
a ranch on the middle fork of the river. Armstrong
said that caribou were thick about his ranch. He
had seen where four had passed by a few days be-
fore. He tried to induce the hunters to go to his
ranch, but they decided to follow their original plans.
Their route lay into the wilderness described in a
previous chapter, and at the forks of the river
McLaughlin had made camp and was awaiting them.

A heavy rain fell next day as they prepared to
start, but no one seemed to think any the worse of
the weather, and jokes were flying thick and fast as
the trail was taken. A deer became too curious and
his venison swelled the larder. Camp was made
that evening in the forest, and while Dyche and
McLaughlin were attending to the horses, Farrell
was preparing a supper fit for the gods. Farrell
compelled the others to strictly observe one thing, and
that was that they should not come "putterin'
around the fire. " They willingly acceded to this de-
mand, and only when the cry of " Square yourselves
for action" was given did they venture near.

Another day of travel took them to the cabin, and
here the two men were at home. Sitting around the
fire they related enough of their experiences to fill

TWO MODEL CAMP COMPANIONS.

207

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scores of books of adventure and hunting. They
told how they had secured thousands of dollars' worth
of furs with their traps and guns, how fifty beaver
and numerous wolverines, lynxes, otters, fishers, mar-
tens, wolves, and other animals which came their way
had been captured. They told of the gaunt, black
timber- wolves which roamed in great bands through
the trackless forests and destroyed many deer ; how it
was almost impossible to trap or poison them, for
they were too shrewd to eat poisoned meat or go
near a trap ; how a pack of the big hungry brutes
would kill and eat a deer and leave no vestige of it
except a few scattered hairs on the snow. The very
bones would be crunched and swallowed by the rav-
enous beasts.

McLaughlin showed where he had stood and seen
a fine buck dash from the forest and run directly
towards him, its tongue hanging out as it panted
from the great exertion. The presence of man did
not frighten it, for it was fleeing from a more deadly
enemy. As it passed on a pack of howling wolves
burst from the woods on its trail, and it was not un-
til three of them fell before the balls from the trap-
per's Winchester that the ferocious brutes turned
back into the depths of the forest.

McLaughlin told of that mysterious animal, the
wolverine, which the Indians have so aptly named
the " mountain devil ; " how the trap must be fast-
ened to swinging poles or the animal will carry
it away. Even when the trap is chained to a pole the
wolverine sometimes climbs the chain and gnaws
the pole through, carrying off the whole load. One

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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got away with a small trap, and two weeks later
his fresh trail was seen in the snow and the trap was
still dragging behind him. Another carried off
a larger trap a few days later, and then the Path-
finder concluded it was time to do something to pre-
vent the wolverines from " setting a line of traps,"
and he took a pair of blankets and two days' provis-
ions and started on the trail. He travelled fifty or
sixty miles, but failed to catch the robber.

Two days were spent at the old cabin, and Dyche
was well pleased with the energy displayed by his
new companions. McLaughlin went four or five
miles up the river hunting for a new camping-place,
and seeing a fine mule buck standing in a suitable
place he killed it, "just to mark the spot." It was
snowing heavily next morning when he and Dyche
started out to see what was in the country. The
trappers had told the naturalist of a big buck which
they had seen here several times, but the animal
was so wary that they had never been able to get
within gunshot of it. Their description made him a
veritable giant. The dense woods had great fasci-
nation for the naturalist, for here he felt that he might
find new animals at almost any moment. In three
hours he reached the top of the mountain and there
found numerous tracks of bears, wolverines, fishers,
and deer. Many deer were to be seen standing about
in the woods, and now and then they would move
away with long, graceful strides for a few hundred
yards, and then stand and gaze at the intruder with
a " wonder what you are? " stare.

As the hunter approached the edge of the woods he

eks later
trap was
arvied off
the ii'ath-
ig to pre-
)f traps,"
rs' provis-
d fifty or

nd Dyche
ed by his
ir or five
ing-place,
a suitable
" It was
nd Dyche
try. Tlie
lick which
tie animal
ble to get
lade him a
■eat fasci-
t he might
In three
and there
es, fishers,
ling about
Duld move
r hundred
•uder with

3 woods he

A ROYAL DEER.

209

saw about a dozen deer standing on a ridge. When
they moved away Dyche caught sight of an enor-
mous buck which led the band. He stood a full head
and shoulders above the rest, and at once the natu-
ralist thought of the big buck of which McLaughlin
had spoken. Attempting a stalk, he soon found that
the animals were too wary. He did not like to be
outwitted, and started back on his trail until he was
well out of sight, when he began a wide detour in
order to get ahead of the band. After travelling
over a mile he reached a spot where he thought
he was ahead of the deer. While moving quietly
through the woods he caught a glimpse of a band of
deer in front of him. As they were looking directly
at him he stopped. Just then the big buck came
stepping proudly from the timber, gazing in the di-
rection of the hunter. As he stood with head erect
he made a magnificent picture, but the naturalist lost
no time looking at it. He sent a bullet through the
animal's breast and it dropped at the crack of the guri.
This was a fine specimen, the largest deer that
Dyche h-'xt ever seen. There was not an ounce of
fat on him. If he had been in the condition that
he undoubtedly was earlier in the year he would have
appeared as large as an elk. The measurements were
taken carefully and they were something wonderful
for a deer. His standing height was forty-four
inches from the top of his back to the flat of his hoof.
The circumference of the body behind the forelegs
was fifty-one inches ; that of the abdomen was fifty-
five inches. The skin, skull, and leg bones weighed
forty pounds, and the naturalist carried the load four

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

or five miles to camp, only to receive the severe cen-
sure of Farrell for making a pack-horse of himself
when there were so many " cayuses " standing around.

McLaughlin was out three days, and when he re-
turned he reported a few signs of caribou. One or
two of them had been feeding on the bunches of
black m<>ds which hung frcm the trees at a place
about ten miles from camp. The trail was taken in
that direction, and after a hard day's travel a little
meadow ' reached during a driving snow-storm.
Camp w; .Ae under difficulties, and it was some
time before a big log fire made the hunters com-
f citable. With a bright fire, hot supper, and many
good stories, they were soon laughing and joking as
if there was no such thing as a snow-storm. As the
night deepened a pack of timber- wolves made their ap-
pearance and serenaded the new-comers. In the deep
stillness of the forest these weird howls brought many
tales of danger to the minds of the campers, but they
were not of a mould to be scared at snarling wolves
and all were soon fast asleep.

Several days were now spent in exploring the coun-
try, which was found to be an immense jungle, and
then Dychc and Farrell made an effort to reach the
mountains on the east. From this place could be
seen a great wilderness of trees, but off to the north-
east appeared the shimmering water of several lakes.
The bald mountain to which Dyche had travelled on
foot several weeks before reared its snow-covered
head above all the others. After long consultation
that night Farrell and McLaughlin determined to
cross the range and go down the middle fork of the

evere cen-
)f himself
ig around,
len he re-
Oue or
unches of
it a place

taken in
el a little
3w-8torm.
was some
ters com-
tnd many
joking as
. As the
3 their ap-
1 the deep
^ht many

but they
ig wolves

the coun-
Qgle, and
each the
could be
he north-
ral lakes,
veiled on
'^-covered
sultation
nined to
k of the

EATING BEAVER TAILS.

211

river to a point about fifty miles above Armstrong's
ranch. The party at once set about to find a way
out of the cafion, and after a whole day's chopping a
path was cleared. Meanwhile Farrell had set a lot
of beaver-traps and caught two fine animals. The
tails and hams, cooked with beans and pork stew,
made a most palatable dish for the hungry hunters.
The tail was considered a great luxury.

The trip over the range next day was enlivened by
Dyche's horse, Chief, which suddenly ran away
and bucked off the pack of cooking utensils. The
outfit was scattered over the mountain and Farrell
took the affair as an especial insult to himself. After
indulging in very strong mountain language about
the horse, he offered to present the naturalist with a
good one if he would give the runaway a ball from his
Winchester. Hard work was the rule next day, and
evening found them still on the side of the mountain.
McLaughlin's great exertion with the axe and his
abstinence from food during the day now had a
bad effect, and he was suddenly attacked by cramps
and he rolled on the ground groaning in pain. Dyche
and Farrell ministered to his trouble as best they
could, and by dint of rubbing at last succeeded in re-
lieving him so that he felt able to travel. Before
grass and water was reached, however, the cramps
returned with increased severity and they were com-
pelled to camp in the big woods. A fire was made
and the sick man rolled up in a bundle of blankets
and warmed, but he suffered intensely, and it was
only after long and vigorous rubbing that he became
easier. Farrell found that they were within two hun-

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

dred yards of the river and water was soon secured
for camp use.

Next morning the Pathfinder crawled out and went
to work despite the advice of his companions. They
were now in a magnificent forest. Trees as straight
as the masts of a ship rose from one himdred to two
hundred feet in the air, with tops so matted together
that it was ahnost impossible to see daylight through
them. It was decided to go up the river, but six
miles' travelling in this direction convinced them that
they could do nothing there and they retraced their
steps. There was little sign of large game. A pe-
culiar willowy bush grew from the ground to a height
of three or four feet and then the tops bent over and
again took root, making an almost impassable un-
derbrush.

Armstrong's horse ranch was the next objective
point. On the second evening Farrell went out to
get some fresh meat. Soon a shot was heard.

"That means fresh meat for supper," said Mc-
Laughlin.

As he spoke another and then a third shot rang
out.

" I'm not so sure of it now," was the comment.

Then followed several shots in quick succession.

" That much shooting means nothing, or maybe a
fawn," was the remark. That he well understood
his partner was shown when Farrell came into camp
a short time after carrying a fawn across his shoul-
ders. The joke was on Farrell, but next morning
he went out and found two bucks that he had killed
the night before. ,

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, secured

md went
3. They

straight
id to two

together
, through
', but six
hem that
ced their
J. A pe-
» a height
over and
jable un-

objective
it out to
d.
said Mc-

hot rang

ment.
Bssion.
maybe a
iderstood
nto camp
lis shoul-
morning
ad killed

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TRAMP OVER THE MOUNTAINS.

21S

*MC^

Next day Armstrong's ranch was reached in a
blinding snow-storm. An abundance of grass gave
the horses good food and they were turned loose
to shift for themselves. The first day was spent in
building a tent made of poles and spruce boughs,
called in that country a rancheree. A few days were
now spent in prospecting in every direction. Many
deer were seen daily near the rancheree, but there
were no signs of caribou. Each night Armstrong
came over from his ranch, about a hundred yards
away, and the mountaineers told stories of their life
while Dyche cleaned and prepared his specimens.

The Pathfinder now began to show great signs of
uneasiness . He had been told that there was plenty of
big game in these woods, including caribou, but ho
had so far failed to find anything but a number of
deer, which were too common to shoot. He felt that
something mu^' be done, and one evening, after sit-
ting brooding awhile over the fire, he stretched him-
self, yawned, and then said :

"I'm going to find caribou or be satisfied there's
none in the country. To-morrow I'll leave you for
that big mountain over there, and I'll see what's be-
come of all the aiamals of this neck of the woods."

" How will you go?" asked Dyche, who at once be-
came interested in the new turn which things were
taking.

" Walk," was the laconic answer.

"I'm with you." So it was settled that a long
tramp of thirty or fortj'- miles should be taken over
the snow-covered mountains, and preparations were
at once begun. Two pair of blankets with pro-

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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visions sufficient to make a load of about forty-
pounds were put into a pack for each, and the start
was made early next morning. Finally the moun-
tain-side was reached and the long and steady pull
began. A smaU frying-pan and a coffee-pot hung
to the packs, and at noon a halt was made to get a
cup of tea and something to eat. At half -past three
the Pathfinder called out :

" Here's the place for us. We'll camp."

Three huge dead trees had fallen across each other
beside a broken stump about twentj' feet high. The
ground was cleared of snow and fires were started
to dry the earth. Soon the hunters were enjoy-
ing a supper of venison steaks, biscuit, and coffee.
At eight o'clock both were asleep, and by four
next morning they were again on their way up
the mountain. Two more days of travelling through
the dense underbrush, with snow eighteen inches
deep, took them to timber-line, and the bald top of
the mountain rose before them. The snow was badly
drifted and it was very cold away from shelter. A
circuit to the north was taken towards Kettle River,
but no signs of caribou were to be seen.

Their curiosity was fully satisfied, and, as they
were fifty miles from the home camp, they began to
plan their return. They readily saw that even if they
found game there would be ,no way of getting it
out of the country, for the horses could never be
brought up the mountain. It was now the middle
of November, and another foot or two of snow was
likely to fall any night.

Next day a difficult piece of country was entered,

i I

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TRAMP OVER THE MOUNTAINS.

215

lit forty
the start
le moun-
)ady pull
)ot hung
to get a
ast three

ich other
yh. The
e started
re enjoy-
d coffee,
by four
way up
y through
m inches
Id top of
vas badly
elter. A
le River,

as they
began to
en if they
getting it
never be
le middle
mow was

3 entered,

and the travelling over fallen timber and rocks and
through deep gulches was very hard. Two grouse
furnished supper for the hunters and this was all the
meat they had. They were now well down the moun-
tain, and just as they were preparing to go into
camp they saw an immense bear-track. The ani-
mal had passed along but a short time before. The
track was fully nine inches wide in the soft snow. As
he walked he had swung his claws out to one side,
and the marks left in the snow were enormous. This
bear was just what Dyche was needing, and the en-
thusiasm of both the hunters was aroused.

" That old fellow will not go far in this weather.
He's just out for an evening's walk. I'll bet we'll
find him within two miles of camp in the morning,"
said the Pathfinder.

" Well, I'm going to follow him to the jumping-
off place or get him. He's just the one I need for
my collection," replied Dyche.

" Oh, we'll get him sure enough. Don't you worry,"
was McLaughlin's encouraging answer.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said the naturalist.
" I'll give you a clean fifty-dollar bill extra if we get
that bear."

While McLaughlin was eager enough to go after
bear, or anything else that Dyche wanted, without the
offer of extra pay, this inducement filled him with a
desire to slay the bear at once. The two hunters
spent the night dreaming of big bears, but their
hopes were sadly dashed when they saw a heavy
fall of snow that had come down during the night,
completely obliterating every vestige of the bear-
15

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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track. They were almost inconsolable, and after tak-
ing a big circuit in order to see if the old fellow had
been moving that morning, they were compelled to
return and reluctantly take up the trail for the ranch-
eree. They reached the river about iive miles above
the home camp, and as it was too wide for a foot-log
they searched for a place for a ford. Reaching a point
where the river widened to about two hundred yards,
McLaughlin said it was shallow enough to wade
and they entered the water.

As the Pathfinder plunged into the stream he gave
an involuntary " whoop !" for it was like ice. The
cold almost paralysed the muscles of their legs.
McLaughlin went ahead and Dyche followed close
behind, pounding and pushing the ice out of the
way, while their teeth chattered. Just as he
reached the middle of the stream McLaughlin sud-
denly stopped and began making such strange signs
that Dyche's heart almost stood still with fear,
for he thought that the Pathfinder had been at-
tacked with another case of cramps. If this was the
case then it meant death, for there was no possible
way of relieving him there. These fears, happily,
were groundless. Mac's queer actions were caused
by an effort to straighten his pack, which had slipped.

The shore was finally reached, and then it took
them half an hour to rub vitality back into their half-
frozen legs. When this was done they hastened dov/n
the stream to the home camp five miles away. As
they hurried along they saw a buck standing in the
edge of the woods and both fired at him, bringing him
to the ground. He was almost as large as the big

WOLVES ABOUT THE CABIN.

217

fellow which the naturalist had killed when he first
came into the country.

The rancheree was reached just at dusk, and Far-
rell soon had a smoking supper ready, which drove
from their minds the hardships of the trip. A week
was now spent in gathering large and small animals,
Dyche dressing and preparing the skins and skele-
tons supplied by the two mountaineers. Twenty-
one choice specimens of deer were added to the collec-
tion. Armstrong took all the extra meat, storing it
away for use in the spring, when venison would be
in bad condition.

The woods abounded in the large timber-wolves,
which roamed about at night and remained well
hidden during the day. Every night they could be
heard howling just outside the tent, and they chased
Armstrong's dogs to his very door and attempted to
reach them under the shelter of the sheds. Poisoned
meat and traps had no terror for them, as they in-
stinctively shunned them. One evening Armstrong
heard an uproar outside of his door and opened it just
in time to shoot a large black wolf which was attempt-
ing to kill his dog within ten feet of the house. Thus
the week was passed, and at the close of the time al-
lotted for the stay the naturalist began to get his
specimens in order for the trip down the river. The
last evening Armstrong, Farrell, and McLaughlin
each brought in a deer. They were so peculiarly
marked that a discussion of deer was started at once.

Armstrong's deer looked much like a common or
Virginia deer, but the tail was black on the outside
and white underneath. It was thought at first that

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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this was a true Columbia black-tail deer, but Mc-
Laughlin, who had killed many of them, was not
sure of it. •

"Why do you call these mountain deer 'mule
deer?' " asked Farrell. " They are called 'black-tails'
all through this countrj'. "

" Yes, they are usually called ' black-tails ' by the ■
hunters up in this country, but they are not the true
black-tail deer. The Columbia or true black-tail deer
live on the Pacific side of the mountains, ranging
from California to British Columbia. Their range
is thus restricted, and only stragglers are ever seen
on this slope."

"I've killed lots of them on the coast side," said
McLaughlin. " They are not so large as these moun-
tain or mule deer. Their legs are shorter and their
ears are not so large. "

"There's where the distinction comes in," said the
naturalist. " They are not as large as the common
Virginia deer."

"Well, I'd like to know how a fellow's going to
know them when he sees them," said Farrell.
" Some mule deer, as you call them, are small, with
short legs."

" They can alwaj^s be distinguished, if you know
how to look at them," was Dyche's answer. "The
tail of the true black-tail deer is black or tawny black
on the outside and sides, and there is a streak of white
underneath. The tail is round and full-haired, much
like that of the Virginia deer. That of the latter is
flat, however, and much longer than the other. The
ears of the Columbia deer are about half-way between

VARIETIES OF DEER

219

ut Mo-
ras not

'mule
k-tails'

by the
ihe true
ail deer
•anging
1* range
-^er seen

B," said
) moun-
d their

3aid the
!ommon

;oing to
Farrell.
lU, with

)U know
, " The
ny black
of white
id, much
latter is
)r. The
between

those of the Virginia deer and the mule deer in size.
The antlers are almost exactly like those of the mule
deer."

" Is there any distinction between tho horns of the
different species of deer?" asked Mac.

" There is a greater difference here than anywhere
else except in the glands of the legs. The horns of
the Virginia deer rise from the head, swing back and
up and around to the front of the head as one beam.
The points, or branches, all grow up and out of this
main beam. The first or brow point is usually
rather long. The horns of a mule deer come up in
the same general way, but spread more .and the
branches do not stand up on the main beam. The
brow point grows in the same way as 'n the common
dee'.', but is usually shorter. In the mule deer, you
see, the main beam divides. Here you have it in
this one," said Dyche, pointing to a set of antlers
near. " Here it branches into two equal parts and
these branches again divide equally. This is the
distinction and is constant. A brow point and four
branches, usually of the same size, give the general
plan of the antlers of the mule deer. There may be
several other branches and snags growing from the
horns, but the general plan can usually be made out
without trouble if you look for it."

"Well, that clears me up," said the Pathfinder.
" As I now understand you, the horns of a mule deer,
or true black-tailed deer, branch about the same way
and there are four main prongs besides the brow point.
If the deer has such horns and has a round tail about
as large as a mule-deer tail, black or blackish on the

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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outside, a white streak underneath, a full-haired tail,
not bare underneath like a mule deer, and round, not
flat like a Virginia deer, then the animal is a true
Columbia black-tail deer."

"That's the idea," said Dyche, "but you should
not forget to take in the ears and leg glands. The
ears of the common deer are about half as long as its
tail, the ears of the mule deer are nearly as long as
its tail, while the ears of the Columbia deer are of
intermediate size, being a little over half as long as
the tail. Then there are the leg glands, which are
always a distinctive mark. The metatarsal gland is
situated on the outside of the hind leg between the
hock joint and foot. The gland is easily found from
the extra length of the hair which grows about it and
forms a tuft. The glandular structure can easily be
seen by separating the hair which grows on either
side of it. This gland in a mule deer is from six to
eight inches long, extending down from just below
the hock joint ; in the true black-tail deer it is from
three to four inches long ; in the common Virginia
deer it is from one to two inches long."

" Well, I'd just like to know what kind of a deer
this is that Armstrong killed," said Farrell. *'Its
tail is black on the outside."

" You see the horns are those of the common Vir-
ginia deer," said the naturalist. " There is one main
beam, with long five-inch brow points. All the
other points grow up from the main beam. The tail
is, as you say, black on the outside, but it is long —
twice as long as the ears. Horns, ears, and tail go
to show that this is a Virginia deer. It is not an

itlm.

VARIETIES OF DEER.

321

uncommon thing for the Virginia deer of this north-
western country to have the outside of the tail black.
Deer in the northern part of North America, as a
rule, are much larger than those of the southern
climes. Bucks up here frequently reach a weight of
two hundred and fifty pounds, while one weighing
one hundred and fifty down there is considered a big
fellow."

" What's the difference between the long-tailed
deer, the white-tailed deer, the Virginia deer, and the
common deer?" asked Maurice.

" A difference in name only, " replied Dyche. " The
species ranges all over the United States and up in
the mountains of British Columbia. Some writers
have gone so far as to describe geographical varieties
of this deer. The mule deer is peculiar to the west-
em half of the United States. Its natural home is
in the mountains, but it was formerly found along
the wooded streams as far east as Kansas and Min-
nesota. "

" You fellows would talk a pine stump deaf," inter-
jected Armstrong. " What' s the difference ? A deer's
a deer. The meat is all the same. I've been eatin'
it for twenty-five years and oughter know something
about it by this time."

"You'd better go and cut some wood for your
clutcliman [squaw] . As I came by I saw her chop-
ping and splitting that old log in front of the house,"
replied Maurice.

" Yes, I was out huntin' all afternoon and she didn't
chop any wood," said the ranchman. " She can chop
as well as I can but waits for me to do it. When I

I I !]

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233

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

got my supper I made a sneak and came over liere
and let her do the choppin'."

" Did you ever see p spike-horn buck?" asked Mc-
Laughlin.

" Yes ; I killed a Virginia deer in New Mexico with
his first horns. They were about six inches long and
were single. The first horns of a deer are usually
forked. Spike-horns are very rare."

" Do does ever have horns?" asked Farrell.

McLaughlin answered this by saying tliat he had
seen one doe, in h'^ twenty-five years' experience,
which had horns. Dyohe told of a skull with small
horns that he had seen in Denver which had been
represented to be that of a doe. The eyes of the men
began to grow heavy now, and Armstrong went home,
and the others were soon wrapped in their blankets
listening to the music of the wolves and the wind in
the pines.

The horses were rounded up with great difficulty
next morning, for the animals had had a long rest
with plenty of food and were full of life. Three
days' hard travelling carried the party down the val-
ley and over the range to Loomis' ranch, where Dyche
found twelve letters. The last freight wagons of the
season were on the point of starting for the railroad,
two hundred miles away, and the naturalist made
arrangements to have his specimens taken along.
Maurice and McLaughlin helped him to the last min-
ute, and the parting from them was like the separa-
tion of old friends. The acquaintance had been but
of a month and a half's duration, but the camp-life
had shown the strong qualit^^^r of both men. The

W^IZZ

rer here

:ed Mc-

ico with
ang and
usually

he had
erience,
th small
ad been
the men
it home,
alankets
wind in

ifficulty

>ng rest

Three

the val-
e Dyche
s of the
ailroad,
it made
I along,
ast min-

separa-
)een but
amp-life
Q. The

PARTINO COMPANY

223

management of the camp was second nature to them,
and the trackless wilds of the great forest were as
plain and open to them as are the streets and alleys
to the dwellers in the cities. They loved the forest
and its associations. To them the singing of the
pines was sweet music. Trees and rocks were their
companions. They were true sons of Nature and in
touch with her ever-changing mood. Dyche was of
the same mould ; the parting was not an easy one.

i'i

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CHAPTER XV.

At the Lake of the Woods — After Moose — A Plague of Mos-
quitoes — Dark Swamps and Deep Rivers — Compensations.

^HE work of the winter and early spring in
the workshop had put the specimens of
the British Cokimbia trip in good shape
for preservation. Several fine groups
were mounted and placed on exhibition in the
university museum. But as the season advanced
the warm months brought to the mind of the natu-
ralist a desire for more work in the woods. Dyche
wanted a group of moose to complete his collec-
tion, and he laid his plans before the board of re-
gents. When asked by them where he would get his
moose he acknowledged that he was yet uncertain,
but one thing was sure, and that was that moose
were not to be found on the campus of the uni-
versity. The regents looked with favour on Dyche's
plans and told him to go ahead, and he at once began
corresponding with people from Maine to Alaska.
Moose could be heard of in different parts of the
country along the northern border of the United
States, but after carefully considering the claims of
each place the naturalist decided that the country
around the Lake of the Woods would offer the best

opportunities.

224

i ■■ i

le of Mos-
Lsatious.

spring in
imens of
)od shape
e groups
I in the
advanced
the natu-
. Dyche
is collec-
rd of re-
Id get his
incertain,
lat moose

the uni-
1 Dyche's
ice began
) Alaska.
ts of the
le United

claims of
3 country
V the best

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o
a

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AFTER MOOSE.

325

The first of July found Dyche at Warren, Minne-
sota, where he met a hunter and Indian trader with
whom he had been corresponding. This man. Brown,
was not only a hunter, but also a naturalist and a
close observer, and he was therefore a most valuable
companion. While they were preparing for the trip
into the swamps Brown told Dyche much about the
mosquitoes, and these stories were so extravagant
that the naturalist was disposed to look upon them
as largely fiction, but he afterwards found, to his sor-
row, that no stretch of the imagination could equal
the reality in this case.

A few days were spent at Warren in buying an
outfit of horses and a light wagon. Just as they
were ready to start for the swamps, Loughridge, a
rancher who lived at the end of the road towards Thief
Lake, came to their camp. He was an old friend of
Brown's and he asked the hunters to drive a team of
mules which he was sending home. He wished the
two men to care for the animals. They were
willing, and he insisted that they should make
his ranch their headquarters while they were in the
country. Loughridge gave them explicit directions
about the road and suggested that they stop the first
night at the ranch of a Norwegian named Goshens,
who lived about a day's travel from Warren.

As evening approached they began to look for Go-
shens' place and inquired of the Norwegians whom
they met, but found that the English language was
an unknown quantity in that region. At last they
met a bright-looking young fellow and asked for
Goshens. A stupid look rested on his face for an

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■ CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

instant; then he replied with a smile, "Ja, Ga-
shens. "

He pointed in a most indefinite manner towards
several houses which were in sight about a mile from
the road, but as they were in different directions his
information was useless. Some time was lost in try-
ing to discover the fellow's meaning, and at last
the party decided on a house and went to it. On
asking if Goshens lived there they received an affirm-
ative answer, but were surprised to find that no one
about the place talked English, although Loughridge
had said that Goshens could give them information.
Arrangements were made, however, for accommoda-
tions.

Mosquitoes had been plentiful for hours before they
reached the ranch, but now the air was literally alive
with them. The horses were fighting, kicking, and
rolling in their efforts to get rid of the pests, and when
Dyche went to put blankets on them he was driven
back into the hoviseby the swarms of bloodthirsty in-
sects and was compelled to cover his head with a thick
cloth and his hands with gloves before he could get
near the horses. Then followed a wretched night,
the remembrance of which will ever remain vivid in
Dyche's mind. It was a constant struggle for fresh
air against swarming hordes of the most villanous
mosquitoes that ever sung. The air was perfectly
black with them, while their noise was almost like
the wind in the pines. To make matters worse, red
sand-fleas got into the sleeping-bags and did an ac-
tive business all night long.

The second night was passed at the ranch of another

V <*

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ra, Ga-

;owards
ile from
ons his
; in try-
at last
it. On
1 affirm-
no one
ghridge
mation.
cnmoda-

ore they
lly alive
ng, and
id when
3 driven
irsty in-
1 a thick
)uld get
i night,
vivid in
:or fresh
illanous
)erfectly
lost like
orse, red
d an ac-

: another

A PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES.

227

Norwegian. This ranch, or "camp" as it is called,
was in a grove bordering a great marsh some seven
or eight miles wide. These marshes are covered with
grass and in the dry seasons haymakers are frequently
seen at work there. The ground is virtually made
of dried grass and ligneous deposits, which at times
are burned away by fires that rage across the country,
eating great holes in the ground and leaving a most
uneven surface. Lakes and pools of various sizes in
these marshes afford breeding-places for countless
thousands of water-fowl, while over all, under all, and
through all are the mosquitoes.

The third day's travel took the hunters to Lough-
ridge^s ranch, where they were in the heart of the
mosquito country. Large smudges of old damp
logs and hay were kept constantly burning to give
the horses some relief. So terrible were the attacks
of the insects that the poor animals would not leave
the smoke to get necessary food. Next day the
hunters started for Thief Lake, which was four miles
away. The whole country was a jungle of brush,
logs, and pea-vines, and evening found them still on
the road with the lake half a mile away. Next
morning their camp was moved to the lake and prep-
arations made for the hunt. Near by was an old
deserted camp of the Chippewa Indians. Scattered
all about were evidences that the red men had been
successful in their hunts. Many moose and bear
bones were seen hanging to trees, where they had
been placed by the Indians to propitiate some god of
the chase. The shoulder-blades of the animals were
striped with charcoal and adorned with strips of

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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cloth and then hung to a limb as an offering. A
number of fleshing-bones and other implements used
by the Indians were found.

The purpose of this trip was to hunt moose, but it
soon appeared to develop into a fight with mosquitoes
for twenty-four hours each day. The experience of
the first night in the swamp was repeated every night
thereafter until the frost killed the insects. The
ponies were sewed up in heavy blankets from head
to foot, and smudge fires were kept constantly burn-
ing that the suffering animals might stand in the
smoke. The tent was pitched and banked down so
tightly on all sides that it was impossible for the in-
sects to enter. Then with a lighted candle every
mosquito inside the tent was tried by fire. It was
stifling inside the tent, but it was torment on the
outside. During the night the horses threshed
around among the bushes, rolling, kicking, squeal-
ing, and tumbling about in their efforts to rid
themselves of the pests, and at last one of the animals
got down and began rolling in the ashes of the fire.
This proceeding was due to the fact that the smudge
fire had burned low, and Dyche prepared to go out to
start the fire again. Brown endeavoured to dissuade
him, but it was necessary to relieve the horses or they
might tear down the tent. Covering himself, head
and hands, with cheese-cloth, the naturalist went to
the remains of the fire. The air was thick with
mosquitoes. The warm blankets of the horses were
literally hidden by the insects. The tent was so com-
pletely covered that not a sign of white could be seen
anywhere. The droning noise changed into a

A PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES.

229

screaming sound, rising and falling with the move-
ments of the swarms, which extended for miles
upon miles in every direction. Dyche was at once
covered. After starting a fire with the old logs,
so that a dense smoke would rise, he returned to
the tent, but there went with him hundreds of
mosquitoes, and another hour was spent with the
candle getting rid of them. This experience was
repeated night after night, while the days were
spent in brushing the swarms away from the
nose, mouth, and eyes. With every precaution it was
impossible to be free from the bites, and their hands
and faces were swollen from the poisonous stings.
The tops of the tall tamarack trees were the only
places where the hunters could be free from the pests.

An old Norwegian lived in a small log hut near,
and the hunters paid him a visit. They soon discov-
ered that the old fellow had evidently lost his sense
of smell. Ho spent his time in catching and curing
fish, which he caught by means of a dam and fish-
trap in the stream. These fish were hung on a pole
to dry, and with them hung the skin of the old man's
dog, which had died a few days before. The Nor-
wegian offered some fish from the pole to his visitors,
but they were declined with thanks. The extent of
his conversational powers was limited to"Ja, so,"
which fact gave him the name of " Old Ja So."

The days were slipping by and neither moose nor
signs of moose were found. Dyche had come to the
country early in order to get moose calves, but as
time passed he saw no prospect of accomplishing his
object. Days were passing into weeks, and some-

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980

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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thing must be done soon if a specimen of a caK was to
be secured. Finally it was determined to move camp
to the other end of the lake. They were just ready
to proceed, when the horses took it into their heads
to add to the troubles which had followed the party
ever since they had come into the country. The
load had been securely packed and then tied down
in order to keep it in place on the wagon. Just as
they were ready to start the horses made a bolt and
were off towards Loughridge's ranch at full speed.
Dyche and Brown ran after them for a few hundred
yards and then gave up the chase and proceeded slowly
on the broad trail left by the bounding wagon. The
outfit was soon out of sight and the naturalists fol-
lowed at a fast walk, wondering what would be left
by the time the horses had finished their escapade.

The trail was almost lost, when a horse- blanket ly-
ing in the swamp showed them the way, and then
they found a ham. With a blanket and a ham they
could at least sleep and eat, so with this grain of con-
solation they continued the chase. Here the wagon
had struck a root and there it had almost turned
over. A piece of the tail -gate was found and then a
broken bit of the wagon-box stood up in the swamp.
Here lay the lid of the " chuck-box " and there the
top of the cracker-box. Hurrying on, they finally
came in sight of Loughridge's ranch, and there,
standing at the corral fence, were the runaways, ap-
parently asleep. Old Buck had been warranted as
one of the gentlest horses in the country, but his gen-
tleness was laziness, and it turned out that he would
run away at every opportunity.

DARK SWAMPS AND DEEP RIVERS.

231

Dyche's work in the taxidermic shop stood him in
good stead now, and with some bolts and strap iron
found in the remains of an old mowing-machine he
soon had the wagon in as good a condition as
before. The hunters now proceeded to the head
of the lake and renewed their hunt for a moose
calf. They '.vere in the midst of the 'great swamp
and they explored the country for miles in every
direction. This was surely the homo of the moose
and there were signs that the animals had been
there, as old beds and tracks were seen. Dycho
soon discovered that while it was easy for him
to find his way about the mountains, it was a
different matter here. He spent one bad afternoon
searching for camp, under the impression that he
would have to remain in the swamps all night with
no protection from the mosquitoes. It was only by
the greatest luck that he finally came to the river and
followed the stream to camp. Day after day was
spent in unsuccessful hunting, and the hunters were
almost ready to give up in despair, when they dis-
covered a place where a cow moose and her twin
calves had made their beds. The beds were more
than a week old, but they renewed the enthusiasm
of the hunters.

Camp was again moved and they went as far as
possible into the swamp. The whole country was
covered with "moskegs," a peculiar formation com-
posed of plants and grass which had become so matted
as to make a new soil on the top of the water of the
lakes, and finally had become so firm as to give sup-
port for the growth of trees and shrubs. There were
16

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282

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

L|(

hundreds of acres of cranberries and blueberries in
the swamp, and while to all appearances the surface
was firm ground, it was in reality a most treacherous
place, for at any moment the hunter might sink to
his hips in water. Here were found so many evi-
dences of moose that the hunters were satisfied that
they had at last reached the right place. All was
going well and the indications pointed to a successful
moose-hunt, when Brown had the misfortune to let
his axe slip and cut his foot between the heel and
ankle. Dyche had gone for wood, and when he re-
turned he saw his companion rolling on the ground
and moaning. The flow of blood could not be
stopped for several minutes. The wound was dressed,
but Brown was compelled to lie still for several days,
while to Dyche fell the greater part of camp work
and all the hunting.

East from the camp there stretched a great meadow,
and it became a daily habit for one of the hunters to
mount the wagon and examine this open place for
any possible indication of game. After Brown's
foot had begun to heal and he was doing light work
about the camp, he was dissuaded with difficulty
from going out to hunt. One morning Dyche was
standing on the wagon scrutinising the meadow, when
he called to Brown in a low but excited voice. Brown
climbed up as quickly as his lame foot would permit.

"What is it?"

"There, don't you see them? Just at the edge of
the timber."

Brown eagerly scanned the country with field-
glasses and at last caught sight of the animals.

^ tl

DARK SWAMPS AND DEEP RIVERS.

233'

)erries in
le surface
sacherous
t sink to
lany evi-
sfied that

All was
niccessfiil
ane to let

heel and
en he re-
le ground
Id not be
IS dressed,
eral days,
imp work

t meadow,
bunters to

place for
• Brown's
ight work

difficulty
)yche was
low, when
3. Brown
lid permit.

he edge of

with field-
nals.

"Moose!" he exclaimed; "they are moose, sure.
They are nearly out of sight behind that point of
brush, but they are moose, sure."

Brown crawled down from the wagon, and despite
all warnings from Dyche began to make preparations
for a hunt. He caught up his Marlin and Dyche
his Winchester, and off they went, Brown hobbling
along on his lame foot while Dyche tried in vain to
induce him to go back to camp.

"Get back. You'll ruin that foot," said Dyche.

"Guess I can stand it," was the only answer,

" You'll catch cold in it in the water."

"Guess I can stand it."

The animals had mov^d south into a bunch of
willows which extended into the swamp. The wind
was in the northwest and the hunters made a cir-
cuit to the south, hoping to head off the moose be-
fore they got out of the country. Brown, whose
foot seemed to give him no trouble, was of the opin-
ion th8,t they would not be able to get ahead of the
animals unless they stopped to feed in the bunch of
willows, for when they once started they usually
kept going for many miles.

• Reaching a point three-quarters of a mile to the
south of the place where the moose had been seen, the
hunters thought it time to look for signs. There were
no indications that the game had passed that way.
Dyche climbed a tall tree and scanned the country in
every direction, but there was no living thing to
be seen. A long consultation resulted only in
the belief that they knew that there were three moose
in the country, and the hunters made their way slowly

• 1

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234

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

back towards camp. Dyche thought the animals
might be feeding in the willow thicket, but Brown
said it was hardly possible. His experience taught
him that they always fed away from the lakes and
rivers. Their beds and other signs were nearly al-
ways found far in the woods, which would tend to
carry out the theory. He felt quite sure that the
moose were miles away to the south by this time.
While giving duo weight to Brown's theories, Dyche
could not get rid of the idea that the animals might
be feeding in the willows, and at last Brown caid ho
would crawl through while Dyche went around on
the edge to shoot if the animals rushed out. Brown
was cautioned not to shoot the old cow, for the season
was so far advanced that her hair would be in bad
condition and her meat was not needed.

" Don't kill the cow, but if you get the two calves
I'll give you ten dollars extra," was the parting in-
junction.

" They are dead calves if I see them," was Brown's
reply, as he crawled into the brush.

Five minutes of silence ; then a shot rang out,
quickly followed by four others in rapid succession.
A bullet sang close to Dyche's head and he dropped
to the ground to escape the next one. A whining,
bawling noise was heard and then Brown shouted.
Hastening to the spot, the naturalist found Brown
bending over a moose calf, not yet dead. A short
distance away lay another.

"Brown, you've done well, but I ought to have
been in it and got one of them."

" That's so. These are your moose."

I^H
^

COMPENSA TIONS.

235

animals
it Brown
ce taught
lakes and
nearly al-
d tend to

that the
his time.
es, Dyche
als might
n caid he
Tound on
. Brown
the season
be in bad

wo calves
arting in-

3 Brown's

rang out,
accession.
B dropped
whining,
I shouted,
id Brown
A short

" Where's the old cow? Which way did she go?"

" Go? Why, she was lying down there in the edge
of the brush and got up within five rod' jf mo."
' " Well, where did she go?"

" Go? Why, she just stood there and I shot hor
for her impudence. She looked as if she was going
to charge mo. I never yet allowed a moose to get up
within five rods of me and run off if I could help it."

The hair of the cow was found to be in excellent con-
dition. It was short and thick, almost black. Her
skin and skeleton and meat were saved after care-
ful measurements, and they were taken to camp
with the calves next day, while traps were set about
the remains of the dead cow. The calves were an
iron-gray colour, shading into black on the under
sides and lighter on the legs.

A week was spent in getting the specimens in order,
another in returning to Warren, and a third in pack-
ing the specimens and preparing them for ship-
ment. Old Buck was traded off for an active little
black horse and then a trip was taken to Thief River
Falls, where a number of moose calves were in cap-
tivity. A day was spent in examining them and
making notes and drawings. Some of the calves
were so tame that they allowed themselves to be
measured with a tape-line.

m ■■:::.'

t to have

i Mi: '

CHAPTER XVI.

In the Swamps— Habits of the Moose— The Moose-Call— On
the River— Good Shooting Secures a Group— The King of
Game Animals — The Naturalist nearly Killed.

<■

[EPTEMBER was half gone. The cold
north wind brought ice and snow and
the conditions were changed in the
swamps. Travelling was as difficult as
it could well be. The chill air and snow put a
damper on the mosquitoes, however, £,lA vvhile these
pests were not exterminated they made their ap-
pearance only on the warmest 'lays. Water was
everywhere and the whole swamp seemed converted
into one vast lake. It became necessary to build a
platform of poles and logs on which to make camp.
On this platform, twelve feet wide by twenty-four
long, was the equipment of the hunters. One end
supported the tent, while on the other a little clay
and wet debris from the bottom of the swamp Avas
placed. On this clay bed the fire was built, and as it
burned down to the water's edge the clay and ashes
made a good foundation. To prevent accident, how-
ever, the fire was extinguished whenever the hunters
left camp.

All the hunting was now done in water, and the

236

IN THE SWAMPS.

937

Call— On
King of

'he cold
low and
in the
[ficult as
put a
ile these
heir ap-
itor was
onverted
> build a
:e camp.
)nty-four
One end
ttle clay
imp was
and as it
id ashes
mt, how-
) hunters

and the

continual wading placed Dyche's knees in a condition
which strongly reminded him of goat-hunting in
the Cascades. Higher and higher rose the water, and
the horses were in danger of losing their hoofs from
standing in so much moisture. A quaking-asp
grove on a sand ridge was discovered about a mile
from the platform camp, and it was decided to move
to this. Three days later the hunters were ensconced
in a new camp. Water or no water, they were de-
termined to stay until they secured a moose, even if
it took them until Christmas to do it. With a ton
of good hay cut for the horses, there was nothing
to prevent an enjoyable hunt in the water.

Cold nights with heavy frosts had changed the as-
pect of the whole country. The shivering aspens had
dropped their leaves, while the tamaracks were chang-
ing to a golden brown and covering the earth with
their needles. Vast armies of ducks, geese, and other
aquatic fowls covered the swamp in every direccion
and streamed overhead in countless thousands all
day and night, with their constant " honk, honk, "
like the bugle-calls of some great army. Many
flocks of willow-grouse came about the camp, and
their cackling could be heard in all directions in the
cold frosty mornings as they sat on the bare trees or
the upturned roots of some overthrown giant of the for-
est. Thousands of incidents new and strange to the
naturalist were of daily occurrence and lent zest
to the hunting.

But the horns of the bull moose were now getting
hard, and it was a big bull moose that Brown and
Dyche were after. The naturalist wanted a very large

' 1

:.-»,

St CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

one to head his group. Brown was anxious to please
him, but he shook his head whenever this big fellow
was mentioned.

" You may get one, but I doubt it. I've been hunt-
ing moose for five years and have never yet seen a
very large one. Big bulls are mighty scarce. I
found the horns of one once having a spread of forty-
eight inches, but I think he was the last of the
lot."

While Brown r.as inclined to be discouraging,
Dyche was determined to have a big moose if
there was one left in the swamp. The season for
calling moose had arrived, and while the naturalist
had heard much of this manner of attracting the ani-
mals, he had never seen it done. Brown was an old
moose-caller and had brought the animals up to him
and shot them. He had learned the art of an old
Nova Scotia moose-hunter who had spent a lifetime
at the business. Dyche took lessons until Brown
pronounced him proficient enough to deceive the old-
est m(X)8e in the woods, and then they were ready to
go after the big fellows.

"The moose knows what he's about every time,"
Baid Brown. "You can't fool him unless you do
every tiling just right. A moose can smell where
you ha"vc passed along several hours before, and
•whenever he gets scent of a man it's good-bye, Mr.
Moose. You can call the moose and get the answer
all right enough. The old fellow may be three or
four miles away, but he will come promptly to the spot
whence the call comes. He won't come in a bee-line,
but he will get there. He goes in a big circle around

HABITS OF THE MOOSE.

239

to please
ig fellow

een himt-
^et seen a
carce. I
of forty-
st of the

Duraging,
mooso if
eason for
naturalist
g the ani-
ras an old
Lip to him
of an old
\ lifetime
til Brown
'^e the old-
3 ready to

)ry time,"
38 you do
lell where
fore, and
l-bye, Mr.
he answer
9 three or
bo the spot
a bee-line,
?,le around

and around the j^lace or zigzags Iwok and forth, grad-
ually getting closer and closer until he is within a
few hundred yards, and then ho will gv> slowly and
be sure that everything is just ri^^t. If there is the
slightest vind ho will scotit you, and off he goes to
some secluded spot ton or tifteen miles distant. The
best way is t > get on the bank of a lake or river, with
the wind, if there is any, blowing towards the water,
and tlieTi the moose will go backwards and forwards,
quartering from one side to the other, until he is close
up. If you make a sound, take a step, or move your
cramped legs, all your trouble is for nothing, for the
old fellow will never stop to investigate, but will go
out of the country as fast as his legs can carry
him.

" You are in no danger whatever from the moose,
for they never attack a man unless badly wounded
and unable to get away. But there are many strange
things that happen while you are lying out in the
swamp waiting for the moose to come. Sometimes
a big fellow will be answering your call and coming
towards you, .md while your atte ition is directed
towards him you will be surprised by the appearance
of a young bull which has also been attracted but
which has come silently for fear of the big one. The
young fellow is not saying much, but the first thing
you know ho stumbles in on you and spoils the whole
thing.

" Sometimes the bull that answers will have a cow
with him. When he hears the call he will leave his
cow and start for the new one. The old cow gets
jealous and starts too, and while the old bull is threeh-

240

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

8">

fi '

I' 1

I -I

ing around in the bushes she comes straight to you
ready to fight her rival. Then again I've knowr
bears to come where they hear the cow bawling.
I suppose they think there is a calf somewhere in the
bushes and expect to get some of the meat. You
may be lying in the bushes listening to the guttural
grunts of the big bull moose as he makes his circuit
around you, when suddenly a bear will appear in
front of you looking for something to eat. Well,
you ain't hunting bear just then and the sight it? any-
thing but pleasant.

" When you are calling moose and are answered
by the barking of wolves or coyotes, you can just put
up your horn and go back to camp. There will be
no moose that night. I don't know why, but that
is what old man Thomas told me and I have always
found it true. The howling of wolves in reply to a
moose-horn seems to be a sure sign that the moose
will not answer."

This talk had the effect of making Dyche think that
moose-calling was anything but a pleasant operation,
and when he came to try it ho found that the reality
was even worse than the anticipation. One night
when the wind had died down the first attempt to
beguile a moose was made. It was wet and cold, and
after Dyche had been stationed in a bit of swamp at
the edge of the river, where he immediately got wet
to the skin, Brown made a call. The first call was
low, with the horn turned towards the ground,
while the mouth of the instrument was muffled
with the hand. After waiting fifteen minutes
without an answer the call was made again,

THE MOOSE- CALL.

241

t to you
knowr
)awling.
[•e in the
t. You
guttural
s circuit
opear in
Well,
it is' any-

nswered
just put
3 will be
but that
e always
eply to a
le moose

link that

peration,

le reality

Qe night

itempt to

cold, and

wamp at

r got wet

call was

ground,

muffled

minutes

3 again,

this time louder with the mouth of the horn free.
Twenty minutes passed and no answer came. A
third time the call was made, loud and clear, but no
answer came. Again the call was given, this time
with the full force of the hunter's lungs. It rang
out over the forest like a trumpet.

With the birch-bark cone at his lips, the mouth
towards the ground, Brown emitted a peculiar grunt-
ing squeal, and as he called he elevated the horn with
a spiral motion high in the air over his head and
then back down towards the ground, the sound rising
and falling and vibrating through the forest. This
was repeated three times and then they waited in the
stillness for the answer. The noise is the bawl of
the cow moose, and is a combination of the prolonged
howl of a dog and the lowing of a cow, if this can be

imagined.

The sound penetrated the depths of the forest for
miles, and the echoes had barely died away whuu I lioro
came fiom a far-distant part of the swamp a most
peculiar grunting or thumping noise. Jl: sounded
something like the rapidly repeated "woof, woof" of
a big dog. The Bcund was continued, the moose
gradually drawing ?H\aror and nearer, all the while
uttering his deep gattural grunt <ir bark. It was his
answer to the cow, and wliile ho w»is undoubtedly
three milt>s away when ho first lu\'ird the call, he went
directly to the spot whore the two men were lying
concealed, almost frozen from their long wait in the
f rf*«ty swamp grass. Dycho was stiff find n umb from
his hips down, while Brown was in little Ix^tter condi-
tion. The old fellow was coming, however, and they

I I

242

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

did not mind the disagreeable part of it if they could
only get a shot at a largo bull moose. The " woof,
woof " came closer, and at last they could hear the
animal threshing around in the bushes about a hun-
dred yards away. At last he appeared at the edge of
a thicket about a hundred yards away from the hunt-
ers. He was threshing the bushes in an extraordi-
nary fashion and all the while keeping up his grunting
noise. As he circled around he could be seen as he
passed from one clump of bushes to another. Finally
he came out into the opening and trotted about forty
yards forwards towards Dyche and Brown. Here he
stopped stone-still, with his head erect and his great
black body looming up like that of an elephant.
Dyche whispered that it was time to shoot, but
Brown objected, saying that the moose would come
closer. But his prediction was erroneous, for the
bull suddenly wheeled about and dashed into the
bushes, where he resumed his grunting and thresh-
ing. For over an hour he continued tramping
around within a hundred and fifty yards of the
hunters, until at last Dyche grew so cold that he
could not have hit a moose ten yards away. No
noise had been heard for ten or fifteen minutes, and
the naturalist said he was going back to camp.
Brown gave another muffled call, and as no answer
came they started for the tent. Just as they were
well under way the moose gave another grunt and
began beating the bushes with his horns again. The
hunters crouched down and waited for another half-
hour, when Dyche made a break for the camp, de-
claring that there were not enough moose in the

THE MOOSE-CALL.

243

3y could

" woof,
lear the
t a hun-
3 edge of
be hunt-
ctraordi-
;runting
len as he

Finally
Dut forty
Here he
lis great
elephant.
lOot, but
lid come

for the
into the
I thresh-
ramping
3 of the

that he
ay. No
ites, and
camp,
o answer
hey were
runt and
lin. The
ther half -
amp, de-
in the

woods to keep him there another minute. They
reached the tent about midnight, chilled through.

Several inches of fresh snow fell soon after, and
Dyche made a circuit through the country. He found
fresh moose-tracks and started after the animal, fol-
lowing the trail for about eight miles without seeing
the moose. Great holes had been pawed in the snow
and the trees and bushes showed marks where they had
been threshed with the horns of the bull. In several
places the moose had stopped to feed upon the tender
tops of v/illow bushes and the red osier or " killikinic. "
Sometimes the trail led straight through the centre of
these patches of willow and osier, but usually it skirted
them. The moose seemed to enjoy going tiirough
the centre of the spruce and tamarack groves, where
there was plenty of water, which gave Dyche a pair
of very wet feet.

One evening Dyche concluded to try calling alone.
Taking the birch-bark horn he went to the bank of
the river, about four miles from camp. The wind
went down with the sun, and just as the great yellow
disk disjippeared the naturalist gave a muffled call.
No answer came and the call was repeated. Far off
in the tamarack swamp a sound was heard which
the hunter at first failed to recognise, although he
finally concluded that it was a moose. His supposition
was not amiss, for soon the animal was heard coming
directly towards his place of concealment. The moose
was on the opposite side of the river and at last he could
be heard in the bushes, threshing around with his im-
mense horns until one could almost imagine that a
dozen bulls were fighting in the forest. Dead limbs

■ il i

244

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

■• '.'

1 ■ iA -- ■ ■

fir .';J

^■IJM :.^

would be knocked down and his horns would rattle
against the trees, and then all would be silent for
several minutes.

The moose was between fifty and seventy-five yards
away, and now Dyche began to fear that the animal
would refuse to come out where ho could be seen.
All the while the naturalist was getting colder and
colder, but ho did not dare take a step or get into an
easier position for fear of sending the animal back to
the forest. It became evident that the moose did not
intend to cross the river, and the hunter determined
either to bring the game out or send him back home.
With the birch-bark horn he gently rubbed the top of
the willows. It was the challenge from one bull to
another. Instantly all sound from the bull ceased.
The big moose stood and listened. Dyche waited
fully half an hour, but never a sound came from the
bull. The rain now came down heavily, and Dyche
decided that it was of no use to waste more time with
the moose. He gave the bushes another rub and then
emitted a defiant grunt from the horn. The effect was
magical. The moose bolted straight for the deep
woods, making as much noise as a pair of horses
running away with an empty hay-wagon. He knew
he had been deceived and stopped for nothing. Dyche
was half-frozen and his legs were stiff, but he was
able to get a little amusement out of the bull's fran-
tic flight.

For three weeks the swamps were hunted in every
direction, and during the whole time not a gun was
fired. An old flat-bottomed scow which they had
brought in with them was caulked, and they started

■H'

, ■:iih-

ii : i

ON- THE' RIVER.

245

d rattle
lent for

VQ yards
animal
be seen,
der and
; into an
L back to
3 did not
;ermined
;k home.
:ie top of
) bull to
[ ceased.
3 waited
from the
d Dyche
me with
and then
ffect was
the deep
f horses
He knew
Dyche
he was
U's fran-

in every
gun was
they had
y started

on an exploring expedition up Moose River. Moose
were undoubtedly in the country somewhere, for they
answered the calls whenever they were made. They
poled along up the river, intending to stop morning
and evening and call for moose when the weather
was suitable.

It was hard work, but they pushed on, cutting
away the overhanging boughs and shoving aside
the driftwood with their poles. About the middle
of the afternoon of the first day they reached a place
where the river widened into a small lake. Just as
they rounded the point into the little lake a moose calf
was seen standing in the water. The calf started
through the brush to the woods and Dyche shot as it
was disappearing in the thicket. Again and again
he fired, sometimes at the calf and sometimes at the
woods, but with no evidence that the wild flight of
the animal was impeded. Just as the last cartridge
in the gun was fired another calf, which had been
standing in the water and brush farther up stream,
started out, and the naturalist seized Brown's gun
and sent a shot after it. The boat was pushed ashore
and search was made for the calves, but the only
wounds apparent were those made in the trees.
There were signs that three moose had been feeding
near by, but the animals had evidently gone else-
where on urgent business.

They now pushed their way up the river and at
sundown Brown gave several calls and got an answer.
The grunts continued several hours, but as they did
not appear to come closer the hunters crawled into
their sleeping-bags, leaving the moose to grunt at

li i

mm t

246

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

his pleasure. Shortly after midnight Dyche was
aroused by a strange noise, but the barking of a fox
and a spirited conversation between two owls was
all that broke the stillness, and ho dropped back to
sleep again. An hour later he was wakened by
Brown, who was crawling out of his blankets.

"Get ready," camo in an excited whisper from
Brown.

" What for?" was the sleepy response.

" Don't you hear that noise? A big moose is com-
ing."

The word " moose " fully aroused Dyche and the
hunters prepared for action. The bull came on,
making a great noise with his grunting and thresh-
ing, but after he came within fifty yards of the hunters
he refused to come farther and remained just within
the thicket and out of sight, all the while keeping up
his noise. It was very aggravating for the hunters
to sit all night in the cold, waiting for the moose to
come into sight, and then, just when daylight ap-
peared, to have him retreat to the place whence he
came. They got into the boat, much dejected, and
returned to the home camp, where a good night's rest
placed them in condition for another trial. They
spent the day in going up and camped at the head
of Moose Calf Lake, as the place had been named
by Brown in honour of Dyche's adventure with the
calves.

They pushed on up the stream all next day and
went much farther than they had ever been before.
When evening came they allowed the boat to drift
with the sluggish current and floated in this lazy

h<:::\

V. V

ON THE RIVER.

247

che was
J of a fox
)wl8 was
L back to
kened by
its.
per from

ie IS com-

3 and the
came on,
id thresh-
le hunters
ist within
eeping up
e hunters

moose to
jrlight ap-
fvhence he
ected, and
ight's rest
al. They

the head
!en named
with the

t day and

en before.

it to drift

this lazy

manner until about ten o'clock, when tlioy crawled
out on the bank and sought a dry spot on which to
sleep. As the evening wore on the cloudiness turned
to a drizzling rain and then the water poured down.
It was a dreadful night, and morning found two bo-
draggjled hunters who were inclined to bclie^'e that
the world is i)ut a fleeting show. Tired and sore
from their exertions in pushing the boat all day and
weary and care-worn from a sleepless night in ine
rain, they allowed the boat to take its own course.

Occasionally one or the other would dip his pole in
the water in a half-hearted way and then lapse into
inactivity again. Thus they moved along until the
afternoon, feeling that there was nothing to do but
get back to camp and secure some sleep. A few big
owls sitting on the tops of the trees eyed them in a
quizzical manner and appeared to make sport of
their dreary condition. Dyche was sore, mentally
and physically, and he felt that moose-hunting was a
failure, especially in a country where there was
water not onlj'- under-foot, but overhead, all the
time. The season for calling moose was about over,
and they had succeeded in getting them to come no
closer than the bushes where they could remain
hidden. While these doleful thoughts were chasing
each other through Dyche 's brain, Brown capped
the climax by saying :

" Yes, a big bull moose is the rub. "

Slowly drifting along, they reached the spot where

Dyche had had his experience with the calves a few

days before. As they pushed on through the lake,

Dyche glanced over into the bushes at which he had
17

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

>:'»28 125

1.8

U IIIIII.6

•Z

► cV

>(S

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

'<^

248

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

wasted so much ammunition, and Brown quietly re-
marked :

" Yes, that is the spot."

No comment was necessary on Dyche's part, as he
felt that it was not his time to talk.

Just as they were making the turn at the lower
end of the lake, Dyche, who was sitting in the bow
of the boat, noticed a moose calf in the water about
seventy-five yards below. Only the top of the
animal's back showed above the water. As he
reached for his gun he noticed a smile flit across
Brown's face, and the calf turned towards him with
an air that seemed to say : " Hello ! is that you again ?"
In less than a second Dyche had his gun trained on
the back of the calf and sent a bullet after it. The
calf made a desperate lunge for the bank and disap-
I)eared in the bushes on the south side of the stream.

The boat was so unwieldy that the naturalist could
not push it to shore fast enough, and he jumped into
the water and ran for the bank, trying to get
ahead of the calf. He ran as fast and as far as he
could to get out into the open swamp, away from the
brush which lined the shore, hoping to obtain another
shot before the calf reached the spruce thickets.
After running forty or fifty yards through the swamp,
a noise on the north side of the river attracted his
attention and he saw a big moose just going into the
bushes. Dyche sent a bullet after it and then ran to
get around a clump of bushes to a spot where he
could catch another glimpse of the animal. A run of
seventy yards brought the moose into sight again,
and two more bullets were sent after her as she dis-

■■■

GOOD SHOOTING SECURES A GROUP.

249

appeared in the bushes. After another run around
some brush ho stopped to regain his breath, when
a sight met his eyes which almost took away his
breath.

A giant bull moose was just coming out of the
bushes on the opposite side of the river, facing al-
most directly towards Dyche. In an instant it flashed
through his mind that this was the animal which he
had been looking for. It was evident, even at that
distance, that the moose was a monster. His massive
horns branched like the tops of the trees around him
and his form showed that he wjis one of the ancients
of the swamps. The naturalist realised that this was
the opportunity of a lifetime. He had been hunting
for this moose for three months and now he was here.

Bringing his Winchester to his shoulder, Dyche
held his breath and commanded his throbbing arte-
ries to be still. The bull was almost facing him
and wes just swinging around the clump of
bushes, when, with the crack of the rifle, he gave a
great limge forward and then whirled in his tracks
and started back into the woods. This gave the
hunter time to pump in another cartridge, and a
second shot was taken as the animal wont into the
bushes. Again a heavy lunge showed that the bullet
had gone home, and as the animal went threshing
through the bushes two more bullets were sent at the
head, which could bo seen going up and down as the
bull struggled to get through the jungle of brush and
logs.

The bull was now out of sight, and Dyche started
to run to the bank of the river, where ho could get a

•:7^'v-'.-xattsi'

lit

1 11

l!f

250

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

clear view across, when the calf jumped up from he-
hind a log where it had heen l3''ing. The frightened
animal ran fifty yards before Dyche could get a shot
at it, and then it, too, disappeared and not a moose
was to he seen or a sotmd heard.

Dychc ran back to the spot where he had left Brown
in the boat, but Brown had gone ashore on the north
side and the boat was drifting down the river. The
naturalist waded to the scow and poled his way
across. He had gone but a short distance when
he heaid a shout from Brown. Hastening to his com-
panion, he found him standing over a mighty bull
moose. He was, indeed, a monster. His great horns
spread out above his head like inmiense shields, while
his body showed that he was the giant of the swamps.
Dyche was almost exhausted with his exertions and
excitement, but he found sufficient breath to jump on
the big animal and make the woods ring with the
university yell. Brown looked at him in surprise
and then started off to look for more moose. Soon
his call was heard again, and this time Dyche found
him standing beside the body of a cow. Dyche gave
more cheers while his companion went to look for
the calf.

Soon Dyche heard the vigorous use of strong lan-
guage in the direction of the river, and hastening
there found that Brown had undertaken a task which
was almost too much for him. The calf, badly
wounded, was standing in the water pulling back
from Brown, who was holding to one car while ho
braced himself by grasping the willows lining the
stream with one hand. The calf was getting some-

aOOD SHOOTING SECURES A GROUP.

261

what the better- of this unique tug of wp.r, and
when Dyche rcivvched the spot Brown was up to his
waist in water and going deeper. Getting hold of
the other ear, Dyche assisted Brown in landing the
prize, which soon died of its wounds.

These incidents occurred in a very short space of
time, yet to Dyche it seemed that he had accom-
plished the object of a lifetime. What a bull this
was ! A leader in every sense of the word and just
the one to head the group which Dyche had in
contemplation. The horns and the grand proportions
of the body exceeded even the wildest dreams of the
naturalist, and he almost feared that ho would wake
and find the whole episoie a dream. He had seen
many sets of horns, but never before horns like these.

The measurements were taken and the specimens
dressed so that they would not be disturbed until
they could be taken to the home camp. From the
top of the back to the point of the hoof the big moose
measured, just as *.9 lay, eighty-five and a half inches ;
from the top of the back to the bottom of the hoof,
eighty-one and a half inches. The standing height of
the animal, after all corrections were made, was just
seventy-eight and a half inches. This was equal to a
horse nineteen and a half hands high, and above this
towered the massive head with its wide-branching
horns. The skin weighed one hundred and thirty-
five pounds after it had dried one day in the open air.
The heart was twenty-two inches in circumference at
the base and ten and a half inches in length, weigh-
ing, when free from all blood and arteries, six and a
half pounds.

■ :f

111

■t 1

BBi

253

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

)■!

Tho old cow and calf wore fit companions for this
monarch of the woods, and the three composed as
magnificent a group of the finest game animals in the
world as could be found in years of hunting.

Much has been said and written about the pleasure
of hunting tho buffalo, and that animal has been
looked upon by the average lover of sport as the em-
bodiment of perfection in the way of game. He has
always been considered the king of the plains, and
to hunt him has been the ambition of kings. His
decadence has been mourned as the passing of an
era in the history of the sporting world. While it is
true that the bison, when he roamed the prairies
in the countless numbers recorded by Lewis and
Clarke in their " Explorations," afforded much excite-
ment to the lovers of the chase, yet the fact re»
mains that he had none of the characteristics which
belong to the true game animal. The stupid beasts
would stand in droves while the pot-hunter crawled
up and shot down hundreds from a place of conceal-
ment. He was an easy victim of the red men with
their simple weapons of the pre-Caucasian times and
was the great food-supply for the natives. The body
of the bison is large and affords food for many, while
his robe gives waim covering, but he was never, in
any sense of the word, a game animal.

But how is it with the moose, the giant of the
swamps? Here, indeed, is the greatest of nil the
game animals of the North American continent. He
is a monarch of the forests, and in addition to his
size he has sufficient speed and cunning to outwit the
wariest hunter, while his courage is equal to a defenoe

THE KING OF GAME ANIMALS,

253

to the death when he is too closely pressed or receives
wounds which stop him in his flight. His home is
in the swamps, where his cunning and instinct teach
him that his enemies are at a disadvantage. His
eyes are of the keenest and note any casual change
in the appearance of the landscape, while his nose,
composed of a combination of cartilaginous boxes,
detects the faintest odour left by a passing enemy
even hours after the trail has been made. He does
not stand and investigate strange sights or examine
unusual scents, but at the first indication of danger
he flies to the deepest woods of the swamps and leaves
many miles between him and the place whore there
is a possibility of danger.

The hunters had now been away from the home
camp for three days and they were uneasy about
the welfare of the horses, which had been picketed
out where they could get grass and water. As thoy
approached the camp they caught a glimpse of a man
going from the river to the tent. Fearing that bad
news from home must have sent this messenger into
the swamps, the naturalist hurried forward to greet
the visitors. Superintendent Wood, of the Pembina
Farm, near Warren, and " Holy Smoke " Bolton had
come to pay the hunters a visit, and finding the camp
deserted they had taken possession to await the re-
turn of the owners. They had had a tiresome trip
and tedious search for the camp, and had arrived just
after the hunters had gone on their last trip up Moose
River. They would have passed the camp had it not
been for the little black horse which Wood had sold
to Dyche. The superintendent had seen the anir .al

354

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

feeding in the brush, and supposing it to be a moose
had made an hour's stalk and discovered his mistake
just as he was about to fire at the animal. The pick-
eted horse showed the visitors that they were near
camp, and they soon found the place and made them-
selves at home.

The goodly supply of home-made bread, jam,
cookies, pies, and the other unwonted delicacies
brought by the visitors was grreatly relished by the
naturalist and his companion. Bolton could only
stare, while his ejaculations of ** Holy smoke ! " at the
rapid disappearance of the good things showed how
he came by his nickname. The three days in the
swamps had put an edge on the appetites of tlie
hunters that caused an exceedingly rapid diminution
of the stc-ck of provisions. But while exertion had
improved their appetites, it must be said that their
personal appearance had sadly deteriorated, and their
visitors were constrained to make. many remarks on
the subject of tramps.

4h the visitors found little evidence that the hunt-
ing had amounted to anything they were disposed to
make light of the efforts of the naturalist, and many
were the humorous remarks which were passed at
the expense of men who would stay two months in the
swamps and have nothing to show for it. The hunters
contented themselves with silence, but i.ext morning
when they took their visitors up the river to the
place where the three moose were lying it was their
time for laughing, and Wood and Bolton confessed
that the trophies were well worth the time spent in
captiuing them.

THE NATURALIST NEARLY KILLED.

255

moose
listake
o pick-
re near

them-

jam,

licacios

by the

id only

" at the

ed how

in the

of the

linution

:ion had

at their

nd their

larkson

he hunt-
posed to
id many
assed at
hs in the
hunters
morning
> to the
ras their
onfessed
spent in

Three days were spent in getting the skins,
bones, and meat to c£unp. Bolton and Wood were
ready to return to Warren, and they took a wagon-
load of meat out with them to the settlement, where
it could be made use of. Bolton was enamoured of the
camp life, and loading the wagon with fresh supplies
returned to the camp in the swamp.

Hunting was continued with varying success until
the cold November winds froze the swamps solid, and
then the specimens were packed and the party started
on their return to civilisation. All went well until
the party was noaring Loughridge's ranch. Bolton
had been driving all day and called to Dyche to re-
lieve him while he walked a little to get warm. Just
as the naturalist took his seat the horses started and
the off wheel of the wagon dropped into a deep rut,
while the other side struck a rock. The result was
that Dyche lurched forwards, and before he could re-
cover himself he had fallen to the double-trees and
thence to the ground immediately in front of the
wheel, which passed directly across his abdomen, the
heavily loaded wagon almost crushing the life out of
him. As the front wheel went over him he raised
himself so that the hind wheel struck his shoulder
and threw him forwards under the wagon, out of the
way of more danger.

The accident was serious and the naturalist was in
such pain that he could not bear the jar of the mov-
ing wagon. After lying at the ranch two days it
was decided to leave the camp effects and specimens
at the ranch and make an ambulance of the spring
wagon in order that the nearest surgeon could be

266

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

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reached. The trip to Pembina Farm was made, and
two weeks' rest there so improved the condition of the
patient that he concluded to go back into the woods
instead of following out his intention of returning
home at once. A team was hired to bring in the
specimens from Loughridge's ranch, and after these
were packed and shipped home, Dyche made his ar-
rangements for a trip to the Lake of the Woods with
Brown and a hunt with the Chippewa Indians.

r i

■, 1

wagons,

CHAPTER XVII.

With the Indians— How Indians Hunt Big Qame— The Par-
allel Trails — Indian Superstitions — A Potent Beverage —
Moose all " Nickoshiu " — Return to Civilisation.

JT was a lonesome road which the hunters
travelled to War Road River. Ice cov-
ered the swamps, but it was not firm
enough to support the heavily laden
many of which were passed sticking fast
in the mud, their owners patiently waiting for a
hard freeze, so that they might get through the
swamps on the surface. Every camp was full of
moose-himters who had strange tales to tell of their
adventures and prowess, but little to show. They
knew all about moose-hunting, and found such ready
listeners in Dyche and Brown that they were dis-
posed to " talk large " for the benefit of the strangers.
The naturalist and his companion pushed on and
finally reached Brown's little cabin, near the village
of the Chippewas. Dyche was still very sore from
the effects of his fall, and while Brown busied him-
self in cleaning the cabin and making it habitable, the
naturalist endeavoured, through the medium of an in-
terpreter, to make arrangements with the red men for
a hunt. The Indians fiocked to the cabin to see the
new-comers, but they were suspicious of all white

257

258

CAMP-FIRES or A NATURALIST.

men, for their experience with traders had taught
them that white men were not all honest.

Dyche used every argument that he could bring to
bear, but with no apparent success. He even offered
to pay full price for the game that he killed, as well as
that killed by the Indians. Ho was willing to buy
everything killed during the trip, and in order that
there might be no doubt about it he offered to leave the
money with ar.y trader whom the red hunters knew.
All his talk se«'»mingly had no effect. The Indians
were shy and made many signs to each other, g^nt-
ing out their monosyllables and evidently not con-
vinced that they could accommodate the naturalist.
Finally the interpreter told Dyche that they were dry.
" Too much talk, too little firewaUsr. " The savages
puffed hard at their stone pipes when told that the
hunters did not have any and did not use any.

As soon as Dyche and Brown finished their supper
they began preparations for sleeping, as they were
both tirekl from the day's exertions. The Indians
took the hint and silently filed out of the cabin. By
daylight the Chippewas were prowling around the
cabin, and at the first sign that the hunters were
awake, the red men crowded in and sat around the
fire watching the preparations for breakfast.

Dyche spent the entire day in an attempt to reach an
agreement with the Indians, but made little progress.
The Chippewas were perfectly willing to hunt for
him and sell him their game, but did not like the idea
of his being with them on the trail. They could not
understand why he desired to go along. The natu-
ralist patiently explained over and over again that it

WTTH THE IXDIANS.

was necessary for him to skin the animals and pre-
p(ire tlio specimens. Hu toU them what ho desired to
do with the game, and as Bi ; 'n had mounted several
birds here during one of bib previous visits, the ex-
planations were easily indoi Mtood, hut tho red men
were unwilling to give in. TLeir obstinacy was
finally overcome, however, nul they agreed that
Dyche should go with thori. May puck, the chief,
Kakagens (Little Raven), Machivonoss, ana Gib, tho
intori)reter, were to make up the pai tr. Tho chief
could speak a few words in English, but tho inter-
preter was necessary.

"While these arrangements were being mmie Dyche
spent much of his time in visiting the Indian village
and studying the home life of the Chippowas. The
village was composed of log-cabins and tepees cov-
ered with coarse grass and birch bark. Tho princi-
pal occupation of the tribe was fishing, and the main
food-supply was fish and a peculiar black rice found
gn*owing around the lake. The squaws made nets
and prepared the fish and the skins of game while
the bucks lay around doing much smoking and
no work. The Indian is tireless on tho chase, but
he thinks his work done when tho animal is slain
and he leaver the labor at the camp to his squaw.
Brown had been here often before, and he said that in
the spring the Indians "aried their diet of fish and
rice with the ^gs of aquatic birds, which bred in
great numbers in the vicinity. The stage of incuba-
tion of the eggs cut no figure at all in the case, the In-
dians rather giving preference to those in which
the young bird was about to break through the shell.

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CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

The village was alive with wolfish dogs, whose
principal occupation seemed to be fighting against
every other dog in the neighbourhood over the
scant scraps left by the Indians. As the food re-
fused by an Indian is barely good enough for a dog,
the animals had a hard time in getting a sufficient
supply to keep life in their bodies through the win-
ter. While there was no danger of their attacking
the hunters, yet it was accessary carefully to guard
the camp to prevent their depredations.

Many of the squaws sat hour after hour on the ice
of the lake, fishing, either with hooks and lines or
with nets which they ran under the ice and left for
two or three days at a time. "When a pickerel or
white fish was caught the woman jerked it out
on the ice and killed it with a blow of an. axe.
These fish were cured and those that were not sold
to the traders were eaten. Dyche walked to the
edge of the lake to witness the fishing operations of
the squaws, but as soon as he approached, the women
gathered up their lines and blankets and made a dash
for the village. Gib, the interpreter, laughed at the
incident and explained their actions by saying that
they were all young squaws and were afraid of a
man.

Dyche supposed that a]l arrangements were now
complete, but he was greatly surprised to find that the
Indians made no preparations for '^^parture. They
now said that they thought he would not keep his
agreement about paying for the animals killed by
himself. There was another long pow-wow, and at
last he was able to convince them that he would do

WITH THE INDIANS.

261

everything that he had promised. He offered to leave
the money with Brown or any other trader whom they
knew, but just as the party started they decided not to
trust the traders, but told the naturalist to keep the
money himself and pay it to them when the animals
wore killed. With this understanding the party filed
out of the village, Maypuck drawing the sled on which
was packed the camp equipment.

Dogs are the usual draught animals of the Indians,
and when Dyche asked why they were not used on
this trip the response was :

" Dog no nickoshin [no good]. Too much brush."

The Chippewas found a malicious pleasure in travel-
ling fast, apparently to try the mettle of the naturalist,
whose side was still painful and who kept up with his
red companions with much difficulty during the first
few days of the trip. It was now very cold, the tem-
perature going as low as ten and fifteen degrees below
zero every night. During the day Dyche's mustache
and eyebrows froze solid as he walked along. The
Indians were warmly dressed in heavy clothing made
from blankets, and Maypuck, in addition, had a pe-
culiar houd of white flannel with a blue fringe run-
ning from the front over the top of the head to the
neck. This hood was shaped something like the old-
fashioned sun-bonnet and was very warm, and
highly prized by the chief. As an especial mark of
favour he offered to let the naturalist wear it, but
Dyche was a little shy of its inhabitants and declined
as gracefully as possible.

The Indians kept up a species of dog-trot all day over
the moskegs, keeping out of the dense forests as much

i fl

flu

869

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

\i t!

it 1

as possible. This trot was one means of keeping
warm, and while it is trying to the muscles of a white
man at first, he soon becomes accustomed to it and
finds it an easy way to travel. Just about noon the
Indian who was leading suddenly stopped and began
preparations for building a fire. One of the others
wont a few yards away and began chopping a hole
in tho ice at the edge of the swamp. Dyche supposed
that he was after water and took a small bucket to
the place, but was surprised to see the Indian pulling
a large piece of moose-meat from the hole. It had
been placed in the water in the course of some previous
hunt. The flesh was white on the outside, but in-
side it was good and sweet. The Chippewas said that
it would keep a long time in the ice-cold water with-
out spoiling. As meat is never spoiled for an Indian,
this assertion can be taken in an Indian sense. Dyche
discovered a bear's skull tied to a tree and started to
take it down to examine it, but was prevented by the
Indians. On this, as on numerous occasions when
he asked concerning peculiar customs and habits of
the savages, the only response given him was : " Oh,
that's Indian." This was accompanied by a signifi-
cant shrug of the shoulders and such an evident desire
to avoid the subject that the naturalist did not press
his questions.

About the middle of the afternoon Maypuck called
a halt and the Chippewas made camp. A quantity of
dry tamarack logs were cut and brought in to keep
tho fire going during the night. Nights are bitterly
cold in this country, and the Indians evidentl}'^ did not
believe in the doctrine advanced by their brethren of

HOW INDIANS HUNT BIG GAME.

3G3

eeping
white
it and
jon the
began
others
a hole
ipposed
icket to
pulling
It had
)revious
but in-
laid that
er with-
Indian,
Dyche
Itarted to
ed by the
)nB when
habits of
as: "Oh,
a signifi-
jnt desire
not press

ick called
aantity of
n to keep
re bitterly
bly did not
rethren of

more southern latitudes, " White man make big fire,
go 'way off and freeze ; Indian make little fire, stay
close by and keep warm," for they made a roaring
fire and kept it supplied with wood all night.

The Indians did little but eat and smoke while in
camp. Even in the night they toasted pieces of
meat before the fire and ate them. It was so cold
next morning that everything in the woods was
popping and cracking. Maypuck took Dyche and,
with the thermometer marking twenty-eight de-
grees below zero, started after moose. The chief
moved like a cat through the jungle of brush and
fallen timber, but walked rapidly when he reached
open places. After travelling in this way about
three miles the Chippewa suddenly stopped and threw
up his hand as a warning to his companion. Dycho
stood pcriectly still while the Indian slipped cau-
tiously forwards. He worked forwards carefully and
at last beckoned Dycho to come on. The trail of a
band of moose was seen in the snow, and after exam-
ining the tracks closely for several minutes and look-
ing at the tops of the willows which liad been nipped
off, tlio chief decided that the animals had passed
along but a short time previously and had gone north.

Dyche now learned something in the way of hunt-
ing which surprised him, but which he utilised many
times later on in his hunting expeditions. Instead
of following in iho tracks of tho moose, the chief
walked fully two hundred yards off to one side and
then followed along on a lino parallel with the trail
of the animals. He moved very cautiously but very
rapidly for about a mile and then crawled towards a

■ I'

264

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

bunch of willows, through which the trail evidently
ran. So carefully did the Indian go that Dyche was
sure there were moose in the willows, but this was
not the case. The Indian was taking no chances,
and he used every precaution just as if he was sure he
was crawling up on the game. The bunch of willows
and killikinic showed many signs of the recent pres-
ence of the moose.

Maypuck took a small stick, placed it in the
trail and broke it, pointing to Dyche's foot and shak-
ing his hef.d. The naturalist understood readily
enough that he must not break sticks on the trail.
The chief now took up Dyche's foot and placed it di-
rectly in the track of his own moccasin, indicating
that only one trail must be made, in order to lessen the
danger of breaking twigs. Having thus cautioned
his companion, the Indian renewed his stalking with
even greater care than he had exercised before. As
he approached another clump of willows Dyche was
again deluded by the extreme caution displayed by
the Chippewa, who crawled to the thicket as if creep-
ing up on an animal in sight. When the Indian be-
gan examining the place Dyche wen^» up to him and
found three beds where moose had been lying but a
short time before. As the moose had walked away
they were evidently not frightened by the hunters.

Maypuck examined everything very carefully.
His next move was a puzzle to Dyche. The Indian
took the naturalist by the coat and pointed in the
direction the moose had gone, and then at the tracks.
Dyche could not understand. Maypuck sat on a log
and smoked. After finishing this ho again went

l'!i

TUL' PARALLEL TRAILS.

865

ently
B was
s was
mces,
ire ho
illovva
; pres-

n the
L shak-
•eadily
) trail,
a it di-
icating
sen the
iitioned
ig with
re. As
she was
lyed by
f croep-
lian be-
lim and
Ig but a
id away
inters,
irefully.
Indian
a in the

e tracks.

on a log
lin went

through the coat-pulling operation, but his meaning
was still hidden, so Dyche took the red man's coat and
repeated the sign. May puck smiled at this, took an-
other smoke, and said :

" Camp nickoshin."

Dyche nodded his head, after which the Indian
smoked awhile and said :

"Moose nickoshin."

Again Dyche nodded his head in approval and the
Indian smoked for a moment or so longer. Finally
the chief put up his pipe, got up from the log, say-
ing " Camp nickoshin," and started off in that direc-
tion. After a tramp of eight miles in an almost
straight line, they reached camp just at dark. Tho
naturalist now sought an explanation from Gib of
the strange actions of the chief, and found that May-
puck was trying to find out whether ho wished to
follow the moose or return to camp.

The other Indians reachetl camp before dark, Ka-
kagens being the last to come in. There was blood on
his hands and coat and he reported that he had killed
a cow moose. Next morning camp was moved to tho
place where the cow was lying, and the day was spent
by Dyche and Brown in skinning the animal and
caring for the specimen. Tho moose had frozen solid,
and it was necessary to carry the legs to tho fire and
thaw them out before they could be skinned.

Dyche found that a small hole had been cut in the
neck of the cow and a piece of tobacco had been in-
sorted therein. Gib said this was always done, but
when the naturalist asked for tho reason and why a
piece of the moose was decorated with rags orstream-

''*.i

lifi

266

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

'' r

1'^

ere and hung to a tree, he received the usual shrug
of the shoulders and the reply that it was " Indian."

The party spent a week in this locality, but it was
so bitter cold that little game was found. The ther-
mometer marked twenty-eight degrees below zero
nearly the whole time that they were in the woods.
Many small fur-bearing animals, such as martens and
foxes, were killed, and the Indians appeared fond of the
flesh of the former, but Dyche found that it was very
tough and tasted like an old rabbit. In addition to his
other apparel, each Indian had a robe made from the
skins of the white snow-shoe rabbits which were found
in great numbers in the woods. The skins were cut
into strips about an inch wide, the strip being cut
continuously around the skin, making one string.
These strings are then made into a triple pleat, or
braid, and these braids are sewed together as thrifty
housewives sew carpet-rags into rugs. This is done
until the robe is as large as an ordinary blanket, and
the Indians then have a warm robe in which they
wrap themselves at night.

The evenings of Indian hunters are spent much
after the manner of white hunters j stories are told
and jokes passed, while laughter is frequent and pro-
longed. All the while the moose-meat is not neg-
lected, and every man in the party helps himself to
delicacies. From an Indian point of view the finest
tidbit of the moose is a piece of intestine, nicely
cooked by boiling. The intestines are stripped and
placed in a pot, where they are boiled until they as-
sume the appearance of huge wrinkled snakes. The
chief then passes the dish around, apportioning a

INDIAN SUPERSTITIONS.

267

share to each member of the party. Dyche was
honoured with the part which was considered the
bonne bouche^ and after ho got it he was in a qiian-
dar}\ He did not like to refuse, for he feared he
would insult the chief, yet he could not coax his
stomach to receive the morsel. He had eaten many
Indian dishes much agaipst his will, but he felt that
the time had come to draw the line. He thankfully
accepted his portion and then began to devise
away of escape. Cutting a stick, ho inserted it into
the delicacy and placed it before the fire to roast,
telling Gib that he preferred it that way. He was
in no hurry about it, and by the time it was well
done the Indians had finished eating and had
scattered through the woods. Now came the longed-
for opportunity, and as the last Indian turned his
back the stick slipped and the obnoxious piece fell
into the fire, where it was soon reduced to ashes.

As provisions, excepting moose-meat, were almost
exhausted, it was decided to return to the spot where
the toboggans had been left at the first camp. Moose-
meat is good eating, but the white men found that it
became very distasteful when there was nothing to go
with it. Indians eat their meat without salt, but when
they discovered that Dyche carried a little bag of salt
in his pocket, the red men became persistent beggars
for it. In fact, the naturalist discovered that there
was nothing they did not want and beg for when
they saw others have it.

When the packs were adjusted and the party was
ready to start back Maypuck motioned to Dyche to
lead the way. The latter shook his head, but the In-

r, i

i J

t \

268

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

■II

dians stood back and waited. Gib explained that if
Dyche did not lead they would not go back with him.
Thinking that he had another superstition to contend
with, the naturalist took the lead and started off at a
rapid gait. The Indians carried heavy loads, and as
Dyche took the usual dog-trot on the trail the red
men followed closely in his tracks. Dj-che was a lit-
tle puzzled at first, but by careful watching he saw
sufficient signs of tho old trail to convince him that
he was taking the right direction, and at last, when
he saw traces of one of the camps at the edge of a
moskeg, he began to increase his speed. As the
Indians had had so much sport with him when
they first left tho village, he concluded to return the
compliment and show what a white man could do
when he tried. Faster and faster he went until ho
was almost running, with the Indians stringing out
in single file behind him.

Looking back occasionally, he noticed that his red
companions were strung out for fully half a mile,
May puck being the nearest, two hundred yards awa}%
The sight so encouraged the naturalist that he put
forth an extra burst of speed and soon had the sat-
isfaction of seeing a clear track behind him with
not an Indian in sight. Ho dashed across the clear-
ing at full speed and reached the camp with only
Maypuck showing at tho edge of tho woods, three
hundred yards away, and coming at a dead run.
Dyche quickly started a fire and began heating
water in his tin cup. When the chief reached him
the water was hot, and the hunter poured into it a
quantity of extract of ginger. This he drank and

A POTENT BEVERAGE.

209

then handed the bottle and cup to the Indian, who
came up panting and perspiring. The chief gave
a grunt and threw his pack on the ground. Taking
the proffered cup and bottle, ho set the cup on the
ground and turned the bottle to his lips, swallowing
half its contents at one gulp. He returned the
bottle with a sigh and said :

"Nickosbin."

Dyche explained by signs that it was " nickoshin "
for Maypuck but not for the others. The chief un-
derstood and grinned, and said not a word about the
bottle when the rest of the party came stringing in.
As a reward Dyche afterwards allowed him to finish
the bottle. Dyche no longer wondered at the ability
of an Indian's stomach to digest cartilages and even
small bones, for a stomach that could stand half a
bottle of strong extract of ginger at one swallow
could digest almost anything. The Indians all reached
camp at last and fell to talking and gesticulating
about the wonderfully fast walking of the white
man. Not one of them showed the least sign of
displeasure at the incident, but, on the contrary, they
seemed to think more of Dyche for his great endur-
ance and speed.

The party had now been out two weeks, and it was
decided to return to the village. The toboggans were
loaded and hauled within ten miles of the lake and
then unceremoniously left standing on the trail, while
the Indians went on to their homes and sent their
squaws to bring in the spoils of the chase. Dyche
now spent his time preparing his specimens for ship-
ment, and meantime he was constantly surrounded

I y

270

CAMPFIRfJS OF A NATURALIST.

by an admiring crowd of Indians of all ages and
conditions. Dycho was not disposed to drive them
away, for he obtained much valuable information re-
garding the habits of the moose. It was a new and
queer experience for the naturalist to sit with a dozen
Indians and Brown and talk of hunting adventures
through the medium of an interpreter.

The moose is the largest member of the deer family
and the most awkward in appearance, but at the same
time he is the wariest and shyest of them all. An
old cow moose, with her ugly head and long ears,
looks so much like a mule that new hunters frequent-
ly let it go, thinking they have run across some
trader's stray animal. When they discover their
mistake they make up for it by shooting the next
mule they see, under the supposition that it is a
moose. One of the most difficult anatomical construc-
tions that Dycho ever attempted to mount was the
nose of a moose. It consists of such a complication of
cartilaginous boxes and partitions as to present many
hard problems in taxiderm3\ The general colour of a
moose, when seen at a distance, is black, but on closer
inspection it is found to be tinged with red, brown,
and gray hairs, the black changing into gray and
white on the legs. There are many colour varieties,
some being very dark while others present an ashen
appearance.

Brown told much about the moose that he had
learned from actual experience, while Dyche gave in-
formation gleaned from books, supplemented by many
of his own adventures. This talk was interpreted
to the other Indians by Gib and the red men were

MOOSE ALL "" mCKOSHIN."

271

gradually drawn into the conversation, and they told
strange tales of the habits and characteristics of the
big animal.

"I saw an article in a paper the other day," said
Brown, " which gave pictures of the European oik.
That animal looked just like our moose. Do they
call moose, elk, over there?"

"Yes," was Dyche's reply. "The European elk
corresponds to our moose. They are very near
cousins, but our moose is larger and averages darker
in colour. The horns of the American moose are said
to be more palmated than those of the European or
Norwegian elk."

" Moose are found all through the northern part of
the country, are they not?" asked Brown.

" They formerly ranged over a vast tract of coun-
try, from ocean to ocean and from the northern bor-
der of the United States to the Alaskan line, where
he is still common along the Yukon River and many
of its tributaries. They feed on the leaves and small
twigs of the trees. I never saw grass or moss in the
stomach of moose."

"Moose eat coarse grass sometimes," interjected
Moypuck, who had been following the conversation
closely.

"Maybe that's so," said Dyche, "but I've never
found any grass in the stomachs of any that we have
killed. In the summer they eat leaves and tender
branches and in winter they nip off the ends of limbs
of willows and birch and sometimes strip off the
bark. The contents of the stomach of a moose in
winter looks like sawdust. They may eat sparingly

■

1 I

:.!r

^^n^SS

273

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURAUST.

ill

fi 1 'J

of tho coarser grass, but I liavo never seen any indi-
cations that they do."

"There's one thing sure," said Brown; "they are
the wildest animal that a man ever attempted to
hunt."

" White man don't know how to hunt," said May-
puck. "White man scare mo« ; away; Indian
crawl up and kill him."

"The groat trouble appears to be to get within
shooting range of the animal. I have followed them
through the snow many times, and always found that
they had doubled back on their track and lain down
where they could see anyone coming on the trail.
When I got back to where the animal lay hidden
it saw or smelled me at once and went out of the
country. Indians do not seem to have any trouble
getting them, yet they are not good shots and are
armed with old shot-guns usually, which a white
man would not carry with him. I. know that their
weapons are not good for over forty yards, yet they
get the game just the same."

"Indian know how to hunt him," said Kakagens.
" Indian no follow trail close like whito man. In-
dian go 'way off and crawl up close. See moose lay
down, shoot him in side. Moose smell good, see
good. He walk way wind comes, walk back on trail,
lay down see white man coming. Indian no follow,
he go round, crawl up at side and shoot moose. White
man in a big hurry and scare moose. Indian hunt
him two, three days. "

"I guess that's so," said Dyche. "I found that
their beds were always made where they could look

MOOSE ALL "^NICKOSHIN."

278

back on the trail, through an open place, with the wind
at their back. They appeared to have walked back
on the trail to where they could see a man if he was
following them and smell him if ho came up the other
way. This nose, which has been puzzling mo bo much,
appears to be made for the express purpose of smelling
everything in the country. Sometimes, however, tho
moose gets * rattled ' and does not seem to know which
way to run. Sometimes they will stand until they
are shot at three or four times. How many calves
have you seen with one cow. Brown V" asked Dyche.

" I have seen many old cows with two calves and
the Indians have told me that they have seen cows
with three calves. Tho young cows have one calf,
but the older and larger cows generally have two.
The calves are born al)out the time poplar trees have
leaves the size of squirrels' ears. There is one thing
that somewhat puzzles me," continued Brown, "and
that is, what becomes of the horns of tho moose,
which are shed every year. Big bull moose have
horns like the tops of trees, yet I have found but few
horns that had been shed, and I have been all through
the woods during January and February, which is
the time they are shed."

"Moose cover horns up," said Maypuck. "Moose
paw moss, dirt, sticks, and snow on horns."

" Those same horns are mighty queer," said Brown.
" It seems to me that no two sots are alike."

"Well, you are about right there," replied the nat-
uralist. " Moose horns are very irregular. I have
eighteen sets and they would furnish material for a
small book on the subject."

i^)-

274

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

" There is one thing about the moose that ic always
the same," said Brown, "and that is that there is no
part of him that is lost when an Indian gets hold of
him."

"Moose nickoshin," replied Kakagens. "Meat
good, nose good, skin good, bone good, all heap good."

Dyche had already discovered that this assertion
was correct, for none of the animals which had been
killed had been wasted. The head is prized as an
especial delicacy. The mujffle is tender and even
more sweet and delicate than a beaver's tail. Jerked
moose-meat is much prized by the Indian and is simi-
lar to jerked buffalo-meat, but is not so tough. The
liides make strong buckskins, from which the Indians
make moccasins. A large hide will make from twelve
to fifteen pair of moccasins, which are sold at a dollar
and a half a pair. Hides of foetal moose are much
sought after by the Indians, who use them for mak-
ing tobacco-pouches or tea-bags.

Moose-stories appeared to be the only subject that
any of the party could do justice to, and every night
the circle around the fire in the cabin was regaled
with something fresh about the animal. In reply to
a remark about " yarding, " which is frequently
described by Eastern writers, the Indians said that
they had never seen more than seven or eight to-
gether in a band. As to the stories of hundreds of
them assembled in a "yard," which is said to happen
in Maine, the Indians shook their heads most ener-
g'^t'''aUy and said they had never seen it.

The season was now far advanced, December being
half gone. The time for big snows had come, and

RETURN TO CIVILISATION.

37S

i always

sre is no

hold of

"Meat
pgood."
Lssertion
lad been
;d as an
nd even

Jerked
L is simi-
rh. The
5 Indians
m twelve
t a dollar
ire much
for mak-

Dyche concluded that i. would be well to get back to
civilisation, whv^re he could be in communication with
home. Selling his ponie ? to a trader, he loaded his
camp outfit and Ff^cimens on the wagon of a Dane
who had come 5 a after a load of fish and returned to
Warren. There he found a number of letters from
home, all telling of the illness of his boy. This news
caused him to cut short his visit and hurry home,
which he reached just six months after his departure
in June.

; 4

■I .

bject that
ery night
8 regaled
n reply to
Tequently
said that
eight to-
mdreds of
to happen
nost ener-

nber being
come, and

'^^^.

•(',"'

CHAPTEB XVIII.

In Colorado — On the Trail of Elk — A Night in the Snow-
Deer, but no Elk — Another Wild-Goose Chase — The
World's Fair King— The Last Hunt.

|EVEI^ months had passed since the re-
turn of the naturalist from the swamps of
Manitoba — seven months of hard and
wearing labor in workshop, laboratory,
and class-room. The wind blowing through the
trees of the university campus whispered enticing
invitations >;o Dycho to lay aside again, for a brief
period, his routine tasks and renew his energies
by a sojourn in the mountains. With the invitation
came thou jhts of those who were his companions in
the Cascades, and later ho received two letters from
these friends urging him to meet them in Denver and
go with them to the mountains.

" Join us if possible," wrote the judge. " We want
to be in the expedition that secures the big bull elk.
We were with you when you secured the magnificent
collection in British Columbia, and wo think we can
take you where you can get a World's Fair king.
We can get Jim [Jim Kennicott, of Delta, Col.]. We
had him last year mv^ know him to be the right man.
We have engaged him and six horses for ourselves,
and the party will be complete with you. Shall we
engage horses for you?"

276

Snow —
ise— The

the re-
amps of
ird and
oratory,
ugh the
Bnticiiig
r a brief
energies
ivitation
m^ons in
ers from
aver and

We want
bull elk.
ignificent
k we can
air king,
lol.]. We
ight man.
ourselves,
Shall we

^:i

A mountain king.

IN COLORADO.

277

It only needed the stimulus of such a letter as this
to cause the naturalist to drop all hesitation, and a
month later, September 2 2d, Dyche, with the judge
and doctor, started from Denver and met Jim, with
his band of twelve horses, at Glenwood Springs. No
time was lost here, and the train was moving up the
trail that same afternoon.

For three hours the party climbed the mountain,
but saw no sign of the cow-trail which had been
indicated as a place to turn aside for wood and
water and a good camping-place for the night.
After nine o'clock a pond was found, and here the
train was stopped and camp pitched. While the
judge and Jim arranged the tent the doctor and
Dyche went foraging for fuel, and soon returned to
camp dragging what they supposed to be the top of
a dead tree. When the supposed wood was thrown
on the fire it was discovered that the dried bones of a
horse would not burn, and a hearty laugh went round
at the expense of the professor of anatomy and the
physiciari vrho could not tell bones from wood. Nor
did the joke fail to keep throughout the expedition.

Supper was followed by those countless tales of
hunting adventure which are best told by the blaz-
ing camp-fire beneath the mountain pines. All next
day they travelled through a beautiful mountain
country until five in the afternoon, when a little
park, in the middle of which stood two tall pines,
was reached. Here v/as an ideal spot for a camp.
That ubiquitous tin can, evidence of the march
of civilisation, was found, and near the centre of
the park was a miniature monument composed of

■'t

278

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

■ 41 ' '

11' I?

the cans, bottles, and other relics of a party of camp-
ers. Rain and snow were falling when the tent was
pitched, but such vagaries of the climate are unnoticed
by true woodsmen, and after banking and draining
the tent the safely ensconced party were soon telling
their stories and cracking their harmless jokes at
each other's expense. The doctor and judge had tried
a cast in the little stream, but trout were shy, and
they were unsuccessful in their efforts. Two fine
bull elk had been seen crossing the park, and this
was sufficient indication that the hunters were now
in the elk country.

Marvine Lake, twelve miles farther on, was
reached next day in a blinding snow-storm. Here
one little trout was caught after the doctor and the
judge had whipped the stream until their arms
ached. There appeared to be many fish in the water,
but they were not anxious to try the flies which were
cast over them. Another day . through rain and
snow carried the party to a spot where the snow was
cleared off sufficiently to permit the tent to be raised.
While the judge and Jim wore getting a fire and
supper the naturalist and the doctor went hunting.
They soon returned empty-handed, but with great
stories of the deer they had seen and shot at.

At nine o'clock next morning the sun was shining
and the pack-train was wending its way down Mar-
vine River towards White River, which was reached
shortly after noon. Here the horses varied the en-
tertainment by giving an exhibition of what they
could do in the way of bucking off the packs. One
started it, and the contagion spread until five of them

ON THE TRAIL OF ELK.

279

: camp-
jnt was
noticed
raining
L telling
okes at
lad tried
il.y, and
Vo fine
md this
rere now

on, was
a. Here
• and the
eir arms
he water,
lich were
rain and
3now was
be raised,
fire and
hunting,
ith great

it.

as shining
iown Mar-
as reached
Led the en-
what they
acks. One
ive of them

were rolling, bucking, and kicking at one time and
the packs were in danger of complete demoralisation.

" Catch old Blackey ! catch old Blackey !" excitedly
called the judge as he ran breathlessly around the
pitching and kicking squad.

" What's the matter with Blackey?" was the ques-
tion as the other members of the quartette ran to his
assistance.

" Why, the raspberry jam and pickles are in his
pack."

The fears of the judge were only too well founded,
for the jam and pickles became badly mixed, and the
only consolation that was afforded the judge in his
misfortune was the remark from the doctor that " they
are all the better for that." This, however, did not
meet the unqualified approval of the judge, who at
once laid down a little law as to the conduct of the
expedition. It took a full hour to get matters
straightened out and all the rest of the day for the
members of the party fully to express their opinions
of the episode.

About the middle of the afternoon of the next day
the party reached a spot in the heart of the moun-
tains near Pagoda Peak which seemed suitable for
a prolonged stay. After dinner Jim undertook
to arrange the camp while the others went out to
look for elk. The judge went east and the doctor
north, while Dyche went through the heavy for-
est and brush to the northwest. After about two
miles of slow travel, he found the fresh track of an
elk and began stalking carefully. While moving
fciilently through the underbrush he heard the animal

111

•

280

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATUR/ LIST.

start and run. Peering cautiously from his place of
concealment, he saw it going at full speed up a ridge
about four hundred yards away. Wondering what
had startled the elk, the naturalist went to the spot
where it had been standing and found the doctor's
tracks. The animal had evidently seen or heard the
hunter and had not waited to investigate. Darkness
now came on and Dyche returned to camp, where he
found the doctor and Jim, but the judge had not been
heard from. Supper passed and still no judge, and
then signal-shots were fired. E'or an hour this was
continued, and then the answer was heard and soon
the missing man put in an appearance, almost dead
from fatigue. Ho could barely walk, but was wild
with bull-elk fever.

"See that blood?" he asked, holding up a snow-
ball on which were stains of red. " That came from
a bull elk which I shot."

"Did you kill him?"

"I don't know. I tried to. I saw two bulls and
tried to down one of them. I shot twice and then
followed the bloody trail until dark. If I had not
heard you shoot I would not have seen this camp
to-night."

After a hasty breakfast next morning the whole
party started out to help the judge find his elk.
Dyche soon separated from the others and followed
the fresh track of a mountain lion. The animal
was going straight north towards Pagoda Peak.
At one place in the snow was a spot where the lion
had made a short run followed by several short
jumps and then a long spring of at least thirty feeti

ON THE TRAIL OF ELK.

281

ace of
I ridge
; what
le spot
octor'a
ard the
irkness
here he
,ot been
ge, and
his was
nd soon
)st dead
ras wild

a SDOW-
jnefrom

bulls and
and then
[ had not
ihis camp

the whole
i his elk.
a followed
Che animal
3da Peak,
are the lion
reral short
thirty feet.

He had been after a deer, but the tracks in the snow
showed that he had missed his dinner.

The naturalist now climbed to the top of Pagoda
Peak, a great dome-shaped mountain with steps, or
benches, on all sides, and took a survey of the coun-
try. All around him were mountains with valleys
between. A band of about a dozen elk had been
there before him, leaving their fresh tracks in the
snow. According to Jim, it is the habit of elk
to climb to the top of the highest peak in the neigh-
bourhood and survey the whole country, locating the
fires of hunters and then laying their plans for the
day in such manner that they would keep away from
their enemies.

The clouds, which had been growing heavier all
the morning, were now sending down snow. Dyche
followed along the ridge for two or three miles, and
during a lull in the storm saw a band of elk feed-
ing in a grassy park down the mountain-side. The
wind was blowing directly towards the animals, but
the hunter determined to get close to the band, if
possible, and made a long stalk around to the other
side of the park. Reaching a spot within a hun-
dred yards of them, he lay hidden and began an
examination with his field-glass. There were eleven
in all, one young buU and the others cows and
calves. The bull had a perfect set of horns, but as
the beams were light and the animal of only ordi-
nary size, the naturalist determined to let this band
go and trust to the future to get the exact animal
that was wanted. For two hours ho lay in the
snow, making notes of the movements and pos-

r >|

ill

283

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

i^P

'!'

tures of tho animals. He noted the carriage of the
head and nock and ears and got a good idea of the
appearance of the elk at home. One old cow grazed
to within fifty yards of Dyche and then lay down
and chewed her end. Then the bull walked over
that way and stood even closer. The temptation
to shoot was very great, but the naturalist resisted
it. Suddenly three other elk trotted into tho park,
seemingly under some excitement, which was com-
municated to the band and the whole lot went out
of the opening at a round trot, moving off up the
mountain and making a beautiful picture.

A depressed feeling came over Dyche as he saw
the band going away, and he felt as though some-
thing, he knew not what, had gone wrong. Return-
ing to camp he found the doctor there, but the judge
and Jim were nowhere in sight or within earshot.
The doctor was sure the men were lost, as they were
still going north through the heavy snow-storm when
he had left them early in the afternoon.

"We gave up that elk after travelling through
heavy forests and much down timber, and I came
back to Pagoda Peak and got my bearings while they
kept going. They will have trouble before they see
camp again. But it's all the better for that. Jim
knows the moxmtains and the judge will learn after
a few more experiences."

The doctor's prediction was verified, for several
hours passed with no sign of either of the missing
men. Signal-shots were fired at intervals and finally
an answer was heard, and then the judge came stum-
bling into camp about ten o'clock. He was greatly

A NIGHT IN THE SNOW.

283

of the
of the
grazed

down
d over
ptation

esisted
10 park,
IS com*
ent out

up the

he saw
;h some-

Retum-
he judge

earshot,
hey were
3rm when

; through
d I came
while they
a they see
hat. Jim
Learn after

:or several
le missing
and finally
3ame stum-
ras greatly

exhausted, and it took the doctor and Dyche half an
hour to bring him around to his normal condition.
A pint of coffee and a warm supper, however, helped
materially. The judge had been thoroughly be-
wildered in the storm and lost all bearings. He
had become separated from Jim and did not know
where the latter was. The continued absence of
the hunter caused much uneasiness, and signal-
shots were fired until long after midnight with
no response from the guide. Morning dawned upon
an uneasy trio. Jim had not returned, and it was
now feared that he might be lying somewhere out on
the bleak mountain badly hurt.

The doctor and Dyche were just preparing to make
a search of the mountains when Jim arrived, too
tired to talk. He presented a most woe-begone ap-
pearance and was completely wora out with the ex-
ertions of the previous night. He was so far gone
that his face had assumed a deep copper colour and
his hands trembled from the strain. A cup of hot
coffee, dry stockings and shoes, and careful attention
revived him somewhat, and then the doctor said it
would be safe to feed him. Jim had been fasting for
twenty-four hours, and he soon showed that his ex-
haustion did not extend to his appetite. Hot coffee,
warm biscuit, and venison soon refreshed him and
he was ready to tell the story of his night's adven-
tures.

"Nobody knows where I stayed last night," he
said. " I must have travelled over a hundred miles.
I kept going as long as I could hold out and then
made a fire and sat up with my back to a tree until

284

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

'I A

morning. If it had not been for tho professor's
heavy Norwegian jacket I should have frozen. I'd
have given ten dollars for a coip of coffee this morn-
ing."

"I think you'd better adopt my plan," said the
professor, " if you are going to get caught away from
camp much more. I always take a little coffee or tea
in my haversack, with a cup and a few biscuit. If
you would do that you could always make yourself
at least half-way comfortable when you are caught
out."

" I've got a better plan than that," was the reply.
" 1 1... ^1 punish me if you ever "'^e me out of sight
of this camp again while we are on this expedition,
unless I'm after the horses."

" Do you know what the professor and I have de-
cided to do with you and tho judge?" asked the
doctor.

" It woijlf' be hard to tell what you'd do."

" We've decided to put a bell on you and hobble
the judge, and then we'll not have so much trouble
worrying over you tramps."

" Well, I believe it would be a good scheme, and
if you ever catch me out of sight of camp again you
can bell me," said Jim.

The judge had been silently dressing his bruised
feet during this conversation, and now held up his
ankle, which showed marks similar to those on a
hobbled horse, and remarked :

" See there ! that foot looks as if it had been wear-
ing hobbles for a week, and I'm sure it will hobble
for a week more."

DEER, BUT NO ELK.

285

As it had taken forty-six shots to bring in the
men, the camp was called Camp Forty-six, and then
three days were spent in rounding up the horses and
waiting for the judge and Jim to become able to travel.
So much shooting had scared the game from that
immediate vicinity, and it was decided to find new
hunting-grounds.

A day's journey over mountains difficult of as-
cent carried the party across the range. Just before
they reached a suitable camping-place a young buck
jumped up and started to run, but a bullet from
Dyche's rifle cut short its career. A day was now
spent in examining the country for signs of elk. A
trip of eight or ten miles west, through a section in-
tersi^ersed with numerous little grassy parks, showed
that few hunters ever reached this part of the moun-
tains. Deer stood in herds, almost as gentle as do-
mestic cattle. More than a hundred were seen in half
a day, and the presence of man did not appear to dis-
turb them in the least. As Dyche was not after deer
he did not kill any, but devoted much time to watch-
ing their actions and pose as they stood or fed in
the parks.

As there were few signs of elk it was determined
to retrace the trail over which they came and
return to the country north of Pagoda Peak. The
horses got through the forest with great difficulty
owing to the snow, which caused them to slip and
stumble. The progress was slow, but a beautiful lit-
tle park was finally reached. It was hidden away in
the mountains and was an ideal spot for a camp..
The tent was pitched and preparations were made for

286

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

('='■1

t'if. '

f^^

a long stay. All were up early next morning, and as
soon as breakfast was finished all except Jim went
on a hunt for elk. The doctor and Dycho returned,
unsuccessful, about noon, but the judge did not come
in. His feet were still in poor shape for travelling,
and he had intended to make but a short hunt.
Jim now began to worry over his absence, and
as the afternoon wore on with no return of the wan-
derer, the uneasiness was shared by the natural-
ist and the doctor. The latter walked along the
base of Pagoda Peak in the direction taken by
the judge, while Dyche went down a small stream
along the valley. A little curling smoke about a mile
below attracted the attention of the natui'alist, and,
in the hope that it might be the judge camped for the
night, he made his way to it, reaching the place after
dark. There was a deserted camp-fire smouldering at
the end of a log, while a few spruce boughs pi3ed
against a tree indicated that someone had spent a
night there not long before. After an examination
Dyche became convinced that this was the spot where
Jim had spent the night when he had walked that
"hundred miles." His surmise was proven correct
when Jim afterwards saw the place and recognised it.
Not a sign of the judge could be found, and it was
with a feeling of great anxiety that preparations wero
made for the night. Signal-shots were fired at inter-
vals until midnight, but there was no response.
Morning dawned upon a trio of very anxious hunt-
ers. A council of war was held, and it was decided
that a general search should be made if the missing
man did not rofcurn by eleven o'clock. Dyche could

ANOTHER WILD- GOOSE CHASE.

287

and as
I went
urned,
t come
celling,
hunt.
!e, and
le wan-
latural-
)ng the
ken by-
stream
it a mile
st, and,
I for the
ace after
lering at
hs piled
spent a
nination
lot where
ked that
1 correct
;niaed it.
ad it was
i ons were
, at inter-
response.
)iis hunt-
s decided
) missing
die could

not rest until that time, and so he took his gun and
went for a short hunt. As he returned he recognised
the judge's familiar form seated by the fire. The
judge said he had been out in the woods listening to
a bull elk bugling.

" I went to the top of the peak, and after taking a
good look at the country started back to camp. I
got on the wrong side of the ridge and went about
three miles northeast, when I should have gene north-
wejit. About the time I discovered that I was going
wrong I heard a bull elk blowing his bugle down in
the valley, and this made me forget everything else.
I followed the noise but failed to obtain a glimpse of
the animal, and by that time it was growing dark I
was in a deep spruce forest, and you know how easy it
is to get mixe^! up in such a place. My feet were in
such a condition that I did not propose to go wander-
ing around in the dark. I was not lost, but just too
hived to go to camp. I mad j me a bed and kept the
owls company for the re&t of the night. That elk
was bugling all night long. When daylight came
I went back to the top of the peak and soon located
camp."

"That's a good story," said the doctor, "but he
don't tell all of it. Jim and I started out for Pagoda
Peak this morning, thinking we might find the judge.
Wo had gone but a little way when we saw a man
crawling along. We at once thought that the judge
liad been badly h art and had been crawling back to
camp all night. We soon found, however, that the
man was makmg a stalk on one of the horses, and if
we had not ruwhed up just in time ho would have

' 1

V ■

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

rji

shot one, sure. We disarmed him and brought him
to camp, where venison steak, hot coffee and biscuit
soon brought back his reason. But he's all the bet-
ter for that. There's many a worse man thsn the
judge — in the penitentiary."

"Begorra, I can't say as much for w o ivx;tor,"
was the judge's sole reply.

Snow fell all day Sunday and the day was spent in
camp. Monday found a fine "tracking" snow on
the ground. Dyche was anxious for a hunt, but the
other members of the party were anxious to get away
from "Lost Park," as the place had been named.
The altitude was too high and camp was too hard to
find to suit them. As Dyche had brought them into
the place it fell to him to get them out. The tram
was packed and started, the naturalist in the lea'.^w
A lion's track in the snow was too great atemptatoa
to resist, and the leader of the cavalcade fcUov: d id
after the iueast. A short distance farther on an cik
winded him and started through the woods. TiHj
tracks indicaix3d that it was a big bull, and as that
wag just what he had come for, he took up tho
new trail. Feeling that the other members of t]ie
party would understand his purpose when they saw
his tracks crossing those of the elk, he started to
hunt it Indian fashion, as he had been taj; ht in
the swamps at the Lake of the Woods. Tal ■'; t up
a line about two hundred yards to the lettv ard,
Dycho slipp^jd along ■;hrough the woods towards
a point where he wa;; contleft'^^ the animal would
cross to the other sicie of the (hSloii. Going carefully
to the bottom of the c: Jion, ho went towards the trail

THE WORLD'S FAIR KINO.

289

t him
jiscuit
le bet-
9T1 the

^tor,'

pent in
low on
but the
3t away
named,
hard to
lem into
he train
;he lea'-".,
nptatoa
ov; d v.'
)ii an oik
Is. Tho
i as that
t up tho
rs of i^he
they saw
started to
tgj, ht in

ral. '^^P
) letJv aid,
3 towards
nal would
g carefully
is the trail

and found where the bull had crossed over. On a
little hill were signs that the buU had stopped
and looked back over his trail and then, seeing that
he was not followed, had moved off more leisurely.
A long grove of quaking asps led up the side of the
mountain along a branch of the Williams River,
and up this branch Dyche crept, carefully, towards a
grove. Just as he raised his head to take a look be-
tween the trees the elk started at a round trot.
Quickly throwing the Winchester forwards, the nat-
uralist sent a ball after the animal, which had the
effect of accelerating its pace. A second shot was
fired which caused the bull to break into a run. Now
it came into plain view and a third shot was fired.
With the report the animal disappeared over the
ridge.

Hastening to the spot where the elk was last seen,
Dyche found the magnificent creature lying dead.
He was a grand specimen and well fitted to lead the
group which had been begun for the World's Fair.
His standing height was just sixty-three inches, while
his girth was seventy-five inches just behind the shoul-
der. His girth about the abdomen measured eighty-
three inches. He was not phenomenal in size or
length of horns, but his proportions were perfect and
his skin was at its very best, being especially rich in
colour. By the time the other members of the party
reached the spot all the measurements had been taken
and the naturalist was skinning his prize. As the
pack-train came in sight the doctor gave a cheer. His
first question showed what was upi^ermost in every-
one's mind.

s»

I's'J

990

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

" Is he a World's Fair king?"

An affirmative answer brought out a chorus of

irrahs and a storm of congratulations. The pack-
train was stopped and everyone assisted in skinning
the elk. There was a little blood in the animal's
mouth, but not a bullet-hole could be found in the
skin anywhere. Thereupon Dyche was subjected to
much chaffing for scaring an elk to death. These
quizzing remarks continued until it was found that
a bullet had passed directly through the heart. The
glory of the exploit was enhanced a short time after,
when the naturalist shot a badger without drawing
blood ; the bullet struck the rock directly under the
animal, killing it by the concussion.

Camp was made two miles farther east on the
north branch of Williams River. A high mountain
rose to the north. To the west was the range over
which they had just come and which was made beau-
tiful by the vast forests of spruce and fir. To the
east and south the country opened out into a valley,
giving a view of ten or fifteen miles of changing
lights and shades through the openings in the moun-
tains. The judge at once christened the place Camp
Grand View.

Next day, while Dyche was preparing the skeleton
of his specimen, the doctor, who had accompanied
him, rambled off on a little hunt. The naturalist saw a
band of elk emerge from the timber and walk towards
the doctor, who hid in a ravine at the foot of a little
ridge. A number of cows and calves were at the
head of the band, and as they came down the ridge
they smelled powder and turned down the side of the

THE LAST HUNT.

291

)rU8 of
e pack-
duning
nimal's
in the
ected to
These
md that
rt. The
me after,
drawing
nder the

it on the
nountain
mge over
ade beau-
. To the
) a valley,
changing
the moun-
lace Camp

le skeleton
companied
calistsawa
ilk towards
t of a little
\rere at the
1 the ridge
) side of the

mountain into the woods. Following the cows and
calves came two fine bulls. They walked on down the
ridge, not suspecting danger, Id plain sight of Dyche.
The latter was just wondering what had become of
the doctor, when he saw a pufif of smoke and heard
the gun crack. One of the elks began running in a
circle and soon fell to the ground, while the other
disappeared in the timber. It was a finely propor-
tioned animal with a perfect set of horns and a good
growth of hair.

Snow had been falling now for twenty-four hours,
and it was possible to hunt without becoming confused
by old trails. Dyche started out Gsjiiy next morn-
ing to see what was in the country. He found a bear-
track and followed it, even though he knew that he
would have little chance of getting it. The bear
visited no less than four carcasses of elk lying in
the snow, all cows and calves. These had been killed
by hunters and left lying just where they fell, not a
pound of flesh being taken or an inch of skin cut off.
The bear-hunters go through the country killing deer
and elk, leaving the carcasses for bait. If a bear
visits one of them a week or a month later, the hunt-
ers set their traps.

The camp of some bear-hunters was found, and
Dyche went with one of them to look at the remains
of a bull elk. The specimen was spoiled and useless
to the naturalist except the leg bones and skull.
During that day Dyche saw eleven bodies of elk
which had been slain for bear-bait. These two bear-
hunters were novices and appeared to be out for the
fun of the trip more than anything else. Tb*^y gave

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

the naturalist a cordial invitation to spend the night
with them. As he was a long way from his own
camp and night was coming on, it took but little
pressing to induce him to accept.

The men gave their names as Henry Maybe and
Henry Geisler and they had travelled many miles in
following bear. They were ready to testify that a
bear can travel twenty or thirty miles a day without
stopping to rest or eat. After the usual stories of
hunting and adventure in the mountains the camp
became silent. Dyche had barely fallen asleep
when he was aroused by the voice of one of his com-
panions.

" Henry, what is that?" came the startled whisper
from one roll of blankets.

" That soimds just like that bear cub we saw at
Meeker," was the reply.

" Let's get up. Maybe we can catch it."

Hastily scrambling from their blankets, the two
went into the woods in the direction of the noise.
Dyche had lost no bear cub and remained in bis blank-
ets. The men returned, wondering what it c ould have
been. They had barely become settled in their blank-
ets when the sound came again. They hastened to
the woods with the same result. They now deter-
mined to exercise a little ingenuity and surprise the
animal. One man remained in the woods while the
other returned to the tent. Soon the sound was heard
again and the watcher called out :

" Hurry up, Henry. Here it is. It's up in a tree. "

Henry took his gun and a lantern and for a while
all was quiet. After an absence of several minutes

THE LAST HUNT.

293

3 night
is own
it littla

rbe and
miles in
f that a
without
tories of
le caicp
asleep
his com-

L whisper
'^e saw at

}, the two
the noise,
bis blank-
could have
tieirblank-
lastened to
now deter-
lurprise the
,s while the
i was heard

p in a tree."

for a while

iral minutes

they returned to camp, using strange words about
"that consarned little owl."

Returning to Camp Grand View next day, Dyche
found that everyone had reached thr conclusion that
it would be well to leave the place, and several days
were spent in travelling and searching for a more
suitable spot. Darkness compelled them to stop one
night on a high point on the mountains, where the
wind blew a perfect gale. The judge gave it the
name of Camp Windy Point. A few days were
spent here, and Jim made a short expedition and re-
ported that he had fired at a large bull elk but had
not drawn blood. Next day the doctor and the judge
went out on horseback while Jim and Dyche went
together on foot. Jim showed where he had seen the
elk, but there were no signs of a wounded animal.
The trail was followed some distance and then it was
decided to return to camp.

After travelling awhile Dyche sat down for a short
rest at the edge of a grassy park. The bugle-call of
an elk off in the woods aroused him, and soon he
heard a response in an opposite direction. This
bugle-call of the elk is perhaps the most peculiar
sound emitted by an animal. The elk starts off with
a noise similar, to that of the squeaking of an old barn
door, and this harsh noise is followed by a bawl as of
a cow. This develops into the bray of a mule and
winds up with a peculiar, clear bugle note or call,
which rings full and free through the woods. It is
a sound which never fails to excite hunters and set
their blood to bounding. The naturalist and Jim
were just preparing to begin a stalk when an elk

294

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

):\

emerged from the woods on the opposite side of the
park. It was an old cow, and soon others appeared.
They trooped out of the woods until fully sixty were
in sight. Then from another point, off to one side,
thirty more came out. All these were cows and
calves, with a very few young bulls. Now the old
bulls began to make their appearance, the last to come
into thv park. This immense band was counted,
and it was found that there were one hundred and
twenty-five.

The wind was blowing directly from the hunters
towards the band, and a consultation showed a diver-
sity of opinion as to the proper mode of procedure.
Jim was a good woodsman, but the sight of so many
elk at one time evidently " rattled " him and gave
him an attack of elk fever. He strongly opposed
Dyche's plans for a long stalk which would take
them around and ahead of the band where they could
lie in ambush and select the finest of the lot, but in-
sisted on crawling under poor cover directly down
towards them. He was afraid to let them get out of
his sight lest they should go off and never be seen
again. Much against his will, Dyche consented to
try Jim's plan, for he saw that any other course
might cause the excited hunter to make an untimely
movement which would spoil the entire stalk.

Jim's plan was followed, and then it was found
that they had to retrace their steps and begin over
again. Three times was this done before Jim became
convinced that Dyche's idea was the better. But now
it was almost too Jate, for the band had fed near the
spot where the naturalist desired to hide. The ani-

THE LAST HUNT.

205

3 of the
)peared.
:ty were
►ne side,
)W8 and
the old
; to come
counted,
Ired and

hunters

I a diver-

rocedure.

so many

and gave

opposed
ould take
they could
ot, but in-
jctly down
get out of
Br be seen
nsented to
her course
a untimely
alk.

was found
begin over
Jim became
•. But now
:ed near the
. The ani-

mals were now between two ridges, moving slowly.
If the hunters could get ahead of the band they could
examine the elk at their leisure and see if the one
they wanted was in the herd. If there was a bull
larger than the one killed by Dyche, he wanted it to
lead the World's F^ir group. If not, the naturalist
preferred that none be killed, for he had a sufficient
number of specimens of all other kinds.

After losing much time in following out Jim's
vagaries they reached the spot where Dyche desired to
go at the beginning of the stalk, but they had been
so long on the way that the animals were there
ahead of them and were passing into the ravine.
As the hunters crawled through the underbrush,
their ears were assailed by a queer combination of
grunting and squealing, made by the elk as they
fed along through the park. Now and then a bull
raised his head and gave his bugle-call, and the
response came from the far side of the band.
The hunters at last reached a point about a hundred
yards from the game, but the trees and brush were so
intertwined that it was impossible to see beyond
them. Occasionally a head or a portion of the body
of an elk came into view, but it was evident that
the men must get closer if ihej wished to see the
entire band. Slipping off their shoes and jackets they
crawled slowly forwards for about fifteen yards. Sud-
denly Jim jumped to the top of a log which barred
the way and was in full view of the band of elk.

About fifty cows t-nd calves were feeding directly

towards him, and as he appeared on the log the

animals started on the run, frightening the others as
20

■M

I , 'I

296

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

they went through the park at full speed. Jim began
shooting at the fleeing elk as fast as he could work
the lever of his Marlin. Dyche could see nothing,
and in trying to get around the log wb ^re the way
would bo clear, he lost considerable time. Jim went
on the run through the woods and Dyche followed,
reaching the edge of the timber just in time to see
the band disappearing at the lower end of the ra-
vine. Jim was running at full speed down the ridge
to the right of the ravine and Dyche went on the
one to the left. After the first alarm the elk bunched
and were running together in a compact mass. Into
this bunch Jim now began shooting at a distance of
only fifty yards. He worked his gun as rapidly as
possible and poured balls into the band like leaden
rain.

Dyche carefully surveyed the band and singled out
a bull which appeared to be much larger than any of
the others. Towards this animal he turned his at-
tention, shooting at it until it left the band and went
into the woods alone. The band had now gone
around the hill on which Jim was standing, and
Dyche heard more shooting and then all was still.

" Prof, why ain't you shootin' ?" shouted the excited
mountaineer.

The naturalist was disgusted and mortified and yet
amused at the way the hunt had ended. Only one
elk was needed and that one must be a monster,. but
Jim had been indiscriminately slaughtering the ani-
mals at short range, when there was no possible way
of utilising the flesh.

Dyche now hurried across to the place where Jim

THE LAST HUNT.

297

im began
uld work
nothing,
3 the way
Jim went
followed,
ime to see
of the ra-
the ridge
snt on the
k bunched
lass. Into
distance of
rapidly as
like leaden

singled out
than any of
'ned his at-
id and went
L now gone
anding, and
was still.
)d the excited

tified and yet
J. Only one
monster,, but
)ring the ani-
possible way

3e where Jina

had been standing and saw the latter about four hun-
dred yards farther on and the elk in a bunch about
seveLty-five yards below him. Jim had used his last
cartridge and was watching the band, which ran
about a hundred yards farther and then stopped on
a knoll. Another run took them to the woods and
then they were out of sight. Jim went back after
the shoes and jackets and told tha naturalist of the
number of big ones he had killed. It was decided
to go back to camp, as it was almost dark, and re-
turn in the morning for the dead elk.

The evening was spent by Jim and Dyche in tell-
ing over and over again what they had done and
what a lot of fine bulls would be found dead. Early
in the morning the whole party went to the field of
action, expecting to find at least a dozen dead elk.
A very careful search revealed the fact that not an
elk had been killed, while the only evidence that any
had been wounded was an occasional drop of blood,
which might have come from a sore foot or an injured
leg. The trail of the fleeing elk was followed four
or five miles, and then Jim was rr\ t celled to acknowl-
edge that he had missed the whole herd. On the
return the judge rounded up a fine bull which had
straggled from the band, evidently the one at which
Dyche had shot, and took it into camp, thus ending
their great elk-hunt in the Rockies.

Every member of the party was now satisfied with
the result of the trip to the mountains, including Jim,
who, however, was a little sore over his experience
with the big band, and the party was ready to return
to civilisation.

! ti

I !

"How largo do elk grow?" asked the doctor as
thej' were packing the specimens and commenting on
the bi^ fellow's size.

"A full-grown bull sometimes attains the weight
of a thousand pounds, but the average is not over half
of that. Cows weigh from three hundred to five
hundred pounds and have but one calf, which is
spotted like a fawn."

"If the skin was as good as the t," said Jim

as he helped himself to another rib, -« vv^ould make
mighty good leather, but it's the poorest part of the
animal."

" That's a fact," replied Dyche ; " the skin is almost
worthless and appears to be rotten when tanned."

"Where is the best place to find elk now?" asked
the judge.

" The range is now restricted to certain favoured
spots in the Rocky Mountains, but they formerly
ranged from Northern Mexico to British Columbia.
A. few are found in Minnesota. They live principally
on grass and twigs and sometimes bit? of the bark
of such trees as quaking asps. The European cousin
of the elk is undoubtedly the red deer, or stag. Elk
will average much larger than the stag, but they are
similar in general appearance and when placed in
parks together will breed and their offspring will also
breed."

" What a fine team a pair of them would make !"
said Jim. " They would take a fellow sailing over
the country in great style. "

" I've seen that done," said the judge. " Last year
it was a common sight in Denver. A man had a

THE LAST HUNT.

21)9

ioctor as
nting on

le weight

over luilf

2(1 to five

which ia

said Jim
ould make
3art of the

m is almost
anned."
»w?" asked

in favoured
jy formerly
I Columbia.
) principally
of the bark
)pean cousin
p stag. Elk
but they are
jn placed in
•ing will also

ould make!"
sailing over

pair of fivo-j-ear-okl bulls hitched to a cart and drove
through tho streets."

"Yes," said Dyche, "they are easily broken to
harness and seem to take kindly to it, but when thej'
take a notion to run away thero is sure to bo a gen-
eral smash-up."

Tho first camp on tho return to Denver was made
at Trapper's Laki and while hunting near the
water Dyche saw hundreds of trout disporting
themselves. He threw stones at them until his
arm was tired, and then went to camp with his
story and was laughed at for his pains. Tho
judge looked at the professor quizzically, and the
doctor said he had been pretty good at fish-stories
himself in his day. Dycho took the chaffing and also
the judge's fishing-rod and returned to the lake, the
doctor following out of curiosity. Tho water was
fairly alive with the speckled mountain trout, and
the lines could hardly be thrown in fast enough to
satisfy the fish. At tho end of an hour of this sport
they returned to camp with seventy fine fish in a sack.
They weighed just fifty pounds, and the judge, who
was admittedly the best fisherman, in the State, said
it was the finest catch he had ever seen.

The month had been most pleasantly spent by the
whole party, and the camp-fires of a naturalist were
things of the past. At Denver the naturalist parted
from his friends, promising that at some future day
they would meet and take another and longer hunt
in the mountains.

" Last year
man had a

npyi :m

CHAPTER XIX.

Results of the Camp-Fires — The Specimens Obtained,

^HE camp-fires are dead and the ashes cold.
Hundreds of whitened spots surrounded
by burned and blackened wood and
by bleaching bones may be found from
the sand-hills of No-Man's Land and the bleak
prairies of western Kansas to the marshes, bogs,
and fens of Manitoba; from the pine-covered ridges
at the head of the Pecos in New Mexico to the deep
forests on Kettle River in British Columbia, where
silence reigns supreme. Mountain and plain, swamp
and lava-bed have been called upon to contribute their
quota, and the work of the naturalist is now changed
from active field operations to the preparation of
specimens in the laboratory.

It has not been my purpose to make a book of
thrilling adventures, full of exciting hunting-stories,
but rather to set forth clearly and truthfully those
incidents which impart a peculiar charm to the life
of hunters who go to the woods with the true
sportsman's instinct and look for game to add
something to the knowledge of the world. That the
naturalist had many more adventures than those re-
corded in these pages can readily bo seen by a walk
through the storerooms of the Kansas University.

300

RESULTS OF THE CAMP-FIRES.

301

;ained.

shescold.
irrounded
i^ood and
und from
the bleak
hes, bogs,
red ridges
:o the deep
bia, where
lin, swamp
ribute their
)W changed
paration of

I a book of
ting-stories,
ifully those
1 to the life
th the true
ime to add
1. That the
lan those re-
n by a walk
University.

Here, piled in apparent confusion, but really classified
with the greatest care and labelled so definitely that
no chance of error is left, are to be found the thou-
sands of specimens which have been obtained not only
by his own rifle, but also by exchange and by pur-
chase from those wiio spend their lives in the wild-
wood haunts of the fauna of the continent. Trap-
pers, hunters, traders, prospectors, and Indians have
been drawn upon for specimens, as well as for inci-
dents showing tho peculiarities of each species, and
the result is that many specimens of rare, and in
some instances extinct, animals have been preserved
for the study of future generations.

In connection with this subject it should be remem-
bered that a complete series must embrace a whole
family in all stages of development, in order to show
all the characteristics and peculiarities of the animal.
Not alone are the old male and female specimens neces-
sary, but the calves and young of different stages
must be shown to give a good idea of the species.
Often it has been necessary to collect specimens
from widely separat: ^ localities in order to exhibit
the peculiar differences brought about by environ-
ment.

While the collection now stored at the university
may appear large and beyond the requirements of
science, it must be remembered that in many in-
stances these specimens will probably, in the near
future, bo the only representatives of those rare spe-
cies which are rapidly becoming extinct. Eight years
ago only four specimens of the Rocky Mountain goat
were to be found in all tho museums of tho world.

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

These were iji such condition that the3'' told nothing
either ot" the appearance or the peculiarities or habits
of the suiinijid as;) he is seen in his mountain home.
So much liardship attends the hunting of this most
rare of all the North American fauna that it is with
the greatest difficulty that a single specimen can be
obtained, and then the additional labour of getting
the game c.own the almost inaccessible mountain
which the animal has chosen for its habitat makes
the securing of a single perfect example an event
worthy of being chronicled in the scientific journals
of tlio world. Tlie thirty-four complete sjjecimens of
this finimal secured hy Professor Dyche will go far to-
wards aiding the future naturalists in their studies.

While ail the expeditions of the naturalist were for
the purpose of collecting examples of the larger
mammals cf the continent, he never lost siglit of the
fact that ho visii' ed places Avhcre ho was likely to
find rare forms of smaller mammals and birds, and
he secured thousands of them which, wit]i his larger
specimens, form a collection that for excellence can-
not bo equalled in the whole wurld.

A list must of necessity bo incomplete, but a par-
tial enunjcration of the rarest forms will give the
reader some idea of the wonderful work that has been
accomplished during these expeditions. The Ameri-
can bison is now practically extinct as a wild animal.
The few remaining Ixerds are so hedged £ibout by law
that they are practically domesticated. Fourteen
complete specimens of these were secured from t)io
last survivors of the wild herd. Of antelope he has
thirty-five specimens, of l)ear fourteen, mountain lions

THE SPECIMENS OBTAINED.

303

nothing
or habits
n homo,
his most
,t is with
en can be
f getting
mountain
at makes
an event
c journals
jcimens of

I go far to-
r studies.
it were for
the larger
iglit of the
; likely to

birds, and
li his larger
eiience can-

!, but a par-

II give the
lat has been
The Ameri-
A-ild animal,
ibout by law
. Fourteen
ed from the
elope he has
Duntain lions

eleven, elk nineteen, Rocky Mountain sheep forty-
five, Rocky Mountain goats thirty-four, moose fortj'',
deer sixty, timber-wolves ten, coyotes twenty-four,
foxes twenty-five, including some of the rarest silver
and cross varieties, lynxes ten, caribou seven, and of
otter, beaver, wolverine, fisher, badgers, woodchuck,
raccoons, and smaller animals several hundreds.

While the money value of the collection has never
entered into the consideration of the professor, who,
with tho true instincts of a naturalist, has been wholly
engrossed vritli the collection of the specimens, it
would now be impossible to duplicate the collection
for $100,000, and as the animals become scarce and
rare this value wi^ increase until within a very few
years it will be of incalcula])le worth. Realising
that future generations mn^- look to this collection
for the study of rare species, the professor dms to have
in addition to the mounted groups, whicli will stand
as silent educators to the masses, a student's series
which will be of use to the future naturalist who may
have no other means of examining an extinct species.

Nor is the work complete as the collection now
stands. The material on hand is to be iii> reased by
the results of other expeditions now in contempla-
tion, and these specimens are to be the basis of works
on the natural history of North America, the first
*of which, on ruminants, is now in course of prep-
aration.

Other camp-fires will glow in the deepest wilds of
British-Columbian mountains while the naturalist
wiH seek rare and almost extinct species of that re-
gion. Far-off Alaska and even Greenland will be

;».

( ;■!

fi '■

804

CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST.

called upon to give up tributes of musk- ox and polar
bear, while Mexico and the Gulf coast will be drawn
upon for phases of animal life peculiar to those sec-
tions.

Tlie ashes of the camp-fires from the Sierra Madre
and Sangre del Christo to the Cascade ranges, from
the Columbia River to the Lake of the Woods, now
mark the spots where many happy hours were spent
while communing with Nature in her most secret
haunts. The sparks are extinct and many rains and
snows have beaten the white ash into the cold earth,
yet there remain the bright memories which he alone
can know who goes to the deep solitudes and sleeps
beneath the singing pines.

We have taken you through the mountain, prairie
land, and swamp ; we have shown you the discomforts
as well as tlie pleasures of the life of a naturalist;
we have given you a hunter's fare of venison and
camp bread, washed down with black coffee made
in a tin cup; we have laid you to rest on a bed of
spruce boughs and sung you to sleep with the sigh-
ing of the wind as it plays through the tree-tops and
rustles among the pine-needles. If we have given
you one desire for that free life in the woods and
mountains or added one iota to your pleasure, we are
repaid. • ,

THE END.

nd polar
e drawn
aose sec-

•a Madre
jes, from
ods, now
ere spent
)st secret
rains and
)ld earth,
I he alone
md sleeps

n, prairie
scomforts
latiiralist ;
nison and
ffee made
1 a bed of
. the sigh-
e-tops and
ave given
ivoods and
ire, we are