i's v * ./( t^~Vs--^ '' ' / " ; i^S^lfei '^ST^ i,, ^E"^ c. 1 ^- v v r ( iif m THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ,'-od and hair, and smelt the sulphurous fumes of twenty-four-hour-old profanity, but there were no elk in that neck of woods. And so we had to carry our several belts full of cartridges, and our several loads of dis- appointments, which were much heavier, back to camp. The next day, Saturday, the i6th, we all returned and hunted the same section of country, but still the elk had not returned in any considerable numbers. Sawyer, Allen and Mike saw three, and Sawyer got one shot, but missed. We now began to get desperate. It was beginning to be a case of woodchuck with us, for we were nearly out of meat again. True, we had killed a good deal of meat, but when six able-bodied men and a boy sit down to eat in that country, meat vanishes before them like dry grass before a prairie fire. We determined to make a desperate effort the next day. When we crawled out of our tent the next morning the heavens looked gloomy. The sky was hidden by a dense, dark mist, and heavy fog clouds were floating ominously about the mountain-sides. Everything we touched felt damp excepting the whisky-bottle, and that was dry enough (inside) for a matchbox. Our ardor was somewhat dampened by this outer dampness and absence of inner dampness, but we were not to be delayed by such trifles. We started for the canyon where I had seen so many good surface indications on Friday. But Huffman got stuck on the scenery the fog clouds floating around the mountain tops, and returned to camp to make some views. The rest of the party went up the trail about two miles and separated; three of us went directly up the mountain into the canyon, the other three ascended by another trail farther to the south. When Forest, Sawyer and I got into the canyon we separated, Sawyer going up near the south wall, I near the north, and Forest through the center. He RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES 33 told us to be ready for business, for he meant to run game over us if we didn't keep out of the way. I had not gone more than three or four hundred yards when, sure enough, I heard a great commotion in the midst of a quaking-asp thicket, and knew at once by the nature of the sound that it "THIS IS HOW WE GOT J EM." was caused by a band of elk, and that Forest had jumped them. They came directly toward me, but the fog was so dense and the brush so thick that I could not see them until they were within a few feet of me. As they approached me 3 34 RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. they separated, about five or six going on each side of me, and so close that had the weather been clear I could almost have counted their eye-winkers. Finally, I caught a glimpse of a small patch of red hair through the fog and leaves, and sent a bullet into it ; then another and another. Then all was oblivion again, so far as sight was concerned, but I could hear them thumping and crashing against trees and bushes, their hoofs clattering over the rocks in their mad flight, and Forest yelling at me to " Give it to 'em." I went to where they were when I fired, and found a fine large fat cow elk dead, with two holes through her, one through the hips and one through the lungs. She had presented herself at two openings as she ran and had got a double dose. The third shot was carried away by a .young bull. I saw him dash through a rift in the fog within twenty feet of me with blood running from a wound high up in his side, over the paunch. While I was admiring my prize I heard Sawyer's Express belching forth her compliments to the wapiti, and making the rock-ribbed hills echo with her musical voice ; one, two, in quick succession, followed by the three shouts that we had agreed should call the party together. On repairing to him, I found he had a fine yearling heifer down within fifty yards of my cow. We scoured the woods awhile in search of the others, but they had lit out for tall timber. We tried to trail the wounded bull, but the undergrowth was so thick and he had left so little blood, that we were forced to give up the task. For the past two hours it had been raining ; one of those quiet, modest, unassuming rains that follow a damp, foggy morning; one of those rains that does not make any un- necessary noise, but which means business, as the Dutchman says " fon the verd git," and we were wet to the skin ; yes, almost to the bone. We returned and took the entrails out RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 35 ")f our two elk. The other boys thought we had better cut them up and each pack in a load of meat, but I objected, .is Huffman wanted some views of them ; and in fact, we all lid. "But," said Allen, "it's raining so he can't make any views to-day, and if we leave the carcasses here over night the bears will eat them up. ' ' "I don't think they will," I said, "for I'm going to come out here and sleep with them, and if the aforesaid bears want to eat any carcasses they can try mine. ' ' They all thought I would have rather a damp atmosphere to sleep in, but I was anxious to save the meat and skins, and determined to make the best of it. So we all went back to camp. I fired a few cold potatoes, beans, chunks of meat and hard tack into my neck, took a small piece of canvas and my rubber coat, and started for another climb up the mountain. CHAPTER IV. MEDITATIONS IN A WICIUP. PHILOSOPHY IN A TENT "ME T-R-R-RUSTY RIFUL " AWAY FROM THE ILLS OF LIFE ELK-HEART AND HARD TACK FOR BREAKFAST THE PERORATION OF A DONKEY'S BRAY WAPITI WINDS HIS HORN THE MONARCH OF THE ROCKIES DIES AS A KING SHOULD DIE. I ARRIVED at the seat of war about five o'clock, stretched * my canvas across a washout, cut boughs and stood them up around three sides of it, and threw down a lot for a bed, built a rousing fire against a big rock in front of it, got up a supply of wood sufficient to keep it burning all night, and then crawled into my wiciup to meditate. Now, thought I, this isn't so bad after all. Some folks might think it was, but it isn't. The wood is wet, to be sure, but by keeping plenty of it on it burns tolerably well. These bushes under me are wet, but I have spread my rubber coat over them, and that keeps the dampness from coming through and wetting me. Besides, my clothes are so wet that they couldn't get any wetter if I were to sleep in Lake Michigan ; so what does it matter if my other surroundings are wet? Besides they are drying rapidly under the influence of this rousing fire. It is still raining steadily, but my little pup tent keeps it off. The night is cold, but if my back gets cold while my face is toward the fire I can turn over and warm my back. Some people might feel lonely out here, four miles from camp, and in a neck of woods that is full of bears and other frisky varmints, but I have " me t-r-r-rusty riful " with me, as the dizzy actor would say; besides, wild varmints are not apt to approach a fire. The carcases 36 RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 7 lie within a few yards of me on opposite sides of my camp, and the varmints aforesaid are not likely to disturb them either, so long as the fire burns. If they do, I shall be very likely to find it out, and death will forthwith go abroad in the land. And then it is so nice and quiet here. That outweighs all objections to the place and its surroundings. The conduc- tor will not interrupt my snooze to-night by shaking my arm and calling for " teekets," nor the brakeman by shouting "clamzoo, change cars for 'troit," nor the train butcher by yelling "peanuts." The infernal milkman's bell won't toll the hour of four o'clock to-morrow morning. I won't have to put my vest under my head to save that thirty-five cents in my pocket-book from the burglars. They will give my room a wide berth to-night. The landlord can't harass me this evening with that little "arrears of rent bill" of his. The grocer and the butcher can whistle for what I owe them, that is, if they feel like whistling. I don't care if coal is booming. Let her boom. I don't want any now. Have plenty of fuel for the present, thank you. I think of the little black-eyed widow away back at home, and wonder how she is faring in the battle of life. That's the only care I have to-night. But surely no ill can befall her when a fellow is away off out here. It would be a mighty cowardly fate that would steal a march on a man and rob him of his treasures when he is not there to defend them, so I will consign her to the care of Him who watcheth over the little sparrows, dis- miss that care also, and betake myself to sleep. The weather grew intensely cold during the night; the rain turned to snow, and the water that hung on the leaves froze. Ice formed on the little ponds of water, and Jack Frost woke me up several times during the night to replenish my fire. At four o'clock in the morning I took the heart of 38 RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. one of the elk, spitted it on a forked stick before the fire, roasted it to a turn. On this and some hard tack which I had hastily shoveled into the pockets of my hunting coat when leaving camp the previous evening, I made a hearty breakfast, and at dawn was ready for the fray again. Before it was fully light an electric thrill was sent through my inmost soul by the sound of a bull elk's whistle, which was borne to my eager ears on the fresh morning breeze. Could it be possible ? Were some of those monsters still hanging about to give me another matinee? Truly, for while I lis- tened the sonorous and to me sublimely beautiful sound, came again. My friend, did you ever hear an elk whistle ? "Yes, plenty of them." So? Well, then I won't try to describe it to you. But there's another good-looking young gentleman over in the northeast corner of the hall who says he never did, and to him I would remark that it sounds more like the closing paragraph, the last sad note, indefinitely prolonged, the tremolo-staccato, the peroration, as it were, of a donkey's bray. Sometimes it is preceded or followed by a kind of grunt, although not always. In fact, scarcely any two elk whistle just alike. The same one varies his tones, but they average about as suggested. The noise is a very shrill one, capable of being heard to a great distance, and to a sports- man's ears it is probably the most musical and fascinating sound to be heard in the mountains. To me on this occasion it was peculiarly interesting, for I wanted above all things on this trip to secure a good head for mounting, and the questions that ran through my brain were : Is this an old- timer? Has he a fine, well-developed head and broad- spreading, perfect antlers ? And shall I be able to get him ? The chances were largely against me, for the leaves and .grass RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 39 were frozen, and so noisy that it would be almost impossible to get within range of him without alarming him. The snow was not deep enough to even deaden the noise, and so was of no assistance to me. But I set out in the direction from whence the music came. It came from the top of one of the high ridges to the south of the canyon, probably half a mile from where I was. I had to exercise the greatest care in climbing the canyon wall, and when I reached the spot where I had heard the whistle I found the tracks, large as those of a three-year-old steer, but the author of them was not there. While I was pondering over them and sizing up (in my mind) the animal that could make such tracks, I heard the whistle again away to the north. I picked my way cautiously through gulches, over "hog-backs" and hills, and when I reached the desired locality I heard Mr. Wapiti winding his horn from the top of another ridge half a mile to the south. Away I went again, trembling all the time lest he should wind me or hear some of the noises I was compelled to make, and bid adieu to his present stamping-ground. But he was so intent on finding some of the coy maidens of his harem among these hills that he didn't notice me, and this time as I reached the brow of the hill I heard a movement in a thicket ahead, caught a faint outline of the monster as he passed through the brush, and when he stopped I could see a patch of reddish brown hair as large as my hat. In an instant the old pill-driver lay with her heel pressing firmly against my shoulder, a cloud of smoke arose from her mouth, and there was a mad charge across the top of the ridge that showed too plainly that the pill had commenced to operate. As the broadside was presented to me in crossing an opening I sent in another dose, and then all was still. I ran up a little farther, and saw him standing in another thicket. 40 RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. He was too badly hurt to run far, but I gave him another broadsider, and he started to run directly away from me. Then I gave him two in the rump. He turned to right again, and another leaden bolt caught him in the shoulder, another through the lungs, and another through the lower jaw, making eight in all. Then he came to bay again, and I walked up to within twenty paces of him. It was useless to add to his already too great suffering ; he could go no farther. He looked at me, shook his massive head, pawed the ground, and his eyes gleamed like balls of fire. He would have charged me, but his strength was too far gone. Then was enacted the sublimest death-scene I ever wit- nessed. He trembled all over. He inhaled until his sides expanded far beyond their natural size, he blew this vast volume of air from his nostrils in clouds of steam, accom- panied by a noise like the exhaust of a steam engine. He pawed up the earth again, shook his head, then placed his antlers to the ground, and threw his weight upon them as if giving the death thrust to some prostrate antagonist. In this effort he forced his body into the air until his feet cleared the ground, he poised a moment, fell with a heavy thud on his side, blew the steam and blood from his nostrils again, and the great monster was dead ! Talk about great acting. I have seen great actors in their greatest death scenes, but never saw so grand, so awe-inspiring a death as this real death of the Monarch of the Rockies. I sat down and gazed for twenty minutes upon his lifeless form, and bitterly did I reproach myself for bringing to an untimely end so noble, so majestic an animal. What a strange passion it is that leads men to such slaughter of innocent creatures, and what a strange fancy it is that leads them to think such slaughter sport ! It is too deep a problem for my RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 41 untutored mind; I leave it to the metaphysician, to the psychologist. When I had recovered from this gloomy reverie I walked up and surveyed the fallen hero. He was indeed a giant, much larger than Huffman's sorrel horse, which we knew weighed at the time over eight hundred pounds. He had by far the THE MONARCH OF THE ROCKIES. finest pair of antlers I have ever seen. They have since been examined by the Hon. J. D. Caton, Gen. Strong and several other gentlemen of high authority, all of whom pronounce them the largest and handsomest pair they have ever seen. Judge Caton says it would be worth a trip across the conti- 42 RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. nent to look at them. Each beam measures four feet nine inches long, and the spread is four feet six inches. There are six points on one beam and seven on the other. I got the entire head home in good condition, had it mounted, and it now occupies the most conspicuous place in my " den." As I pause in the midst of this recital, and look up at it, it wears that same grand, majestic look it wore there on top of the Rocky Mountains in that cold crisp September morning, and I have but to give my imagination play, and I find myself surrounded by those same old snow-capped peaks, those tall, rocky crags peering out above the pine-trees, which are hung with their crystal fringe of ice, glittering in the bright morning sun. I can feel that fresh, frosty, invigorat- ing atmosphere ; I can hear those frozen leaves crush under my feet as I walk, and my blood dances through my veins as I climb from hilltop to hilltop in pursuit of the noble quarry, stimulated the while by his fascinating whistle. Ah ! soon come the time when I may again visit that land of enchant- ment. But how our airy castles do crumble under the touch of reality. Enter Mrs. Coquina with a towel around her head, a broom in one hand, a dustpan in the other, and a smile on her face, as she says : " Old man, you'd better put in some coal, or this fire will be out." CHAPTER V. A PERILOUS EXPERIENCE. THREE BEARS ANXIOUS FOR GORE THE COMPANY RATTLED WE TRY THE EFFECT OF NOISE AND BLUSTER THE GRIZZLYS RETIRE MIKE AROUSES THE ANGER OF AN OLD SHE-BEAR A RACE FOR LIFE HUFFMAN AND I TO THE RESCUE TWO OUT OF THREE KILLED A FINE VIEW OF THE ROCKIES MORE SPORT THE CAMP BROKEN UP WE START FOR HOME. AND now to return to my narrative. Either one of the eight balls that entered the elk's carcass would have caused his death in time, but I was anxious to get him down as near my temporary camp as possible, and for that purpose I kept on shooting until I saw that he had more lead than he could carry away. It is frequently stated that the wapiti is the easiest of all the cervidse to kill, that he gives up sooner after being hit than any other member of the family. But my experience does not lead me to think so. Six of these eight bullets passed entirely through his body and yet he lived nearly half an hour after the last one was fired. His was an exceptional case of vitality, but all the others that I have killed or seen killed required very hard hitting and in vital parts to bring them down. After admiring my prize to my entire satisfaction, I re- turned to my temporary camp to wait for Huffman and the others of the party. They put in an appearance about noon. Huffman made his views of the two elk; we cut them up and packed the best of the meat on one of his pack-horses, and he, Mike and I went up to the other carcass. When we 44 RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. arrived we were surprised to find that a bear nad been at it, and had torn it slightly and eaten a small portion of it, but not enough to interfere with our purpose. As soon as Huff- man had completed his work, Mike and I proceeded to skin the carcass and take off the head. While thus engaged, and while Huffman was packing his outfit on his horse, we heard strange noises on the hillside above us, and looking up we saw three grizzly bears charging down upon us. For a mo- ment we were horror-stricken. They were between us and our guns when we first saw them, and if we ran and left our horses they would break loose and we would probably never see them again. We dared not even leave them to tree our- selves, and could not possibly mount them to get away, for they were crazed with fright, and we were com- pelled to stay by them. The bears had been there and got a taste of the elk, just enough to make them ferocious, when they had heard us coming back, and had retreated into the woods. They had waited for us to get away as long as they cared to, and had then resolved to drive us away or eat us up, and they didn't seem to care which. They had evidently sized us up from away back on top of the hill, and knew just what and who we were, and how many there were of us. They seemed to come for gore, and lots of it. It was the most frightful assault that ever I looked at. They came like a band of redskins assaulting an emigrant train and trying to stampede the stock. They were fairly jumping over each other in their eagerness to be the first in the fight. They were roaring like infuriated bulls, growling and snarling like mad dogs, puffing and snorting like locomotive engines, and the brush was cracking under them as if they were great rocks rolling down from the top of some mountain peak. Huffman had a buckskin lariat on " old sorrel " with a hack- RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 45 more around his nose, and at the first sight of the infuriated beasts had taken a turn around his hand with the lariat. The horse reared and charged until he threw Huffman into the branches of the tree to which he was tied, and lodged him in them six feet from the ground. We were all fearfully rattled for a moment, for the assault was so purely unnatural and unexpected. We should not have been half so much surprised had the assaulting party been Indians, but we did not expect and were not prepared for either. But we pulled our knives and rushed at them, yelled like savages, swung our hats, and when they found we were not going to run they halted, looked at us a moment, turned and walked slowly and sulkily back up the hill into the thick underbrush, and were out of sight by the time they had gone twenty yards. Mike now got hold of his gun and started in pursuit, leaving Huffman and I still in charge of the horses. He walked cautiously up the hill a few paces looking for the game, when suddenly the old female bear sprang at him from a clump of bushes right at his side. She was within six feet of him when he first saw her, and there was no time for shooting; at least he thought there wasn't, and he turned and came back down the hill bare- headed, his face as fair as a lily, his hair (what little he had) and his coat-tail standing straight out behind him, clearing about twenty feet at each jump, and the bear lighting in his tracks as soon as he was out of them. Huffman and I left the horses, rushed at the bear again, whooped and yelled for life (that is, for Mike's life), and again succeeded in checking the savage brute. She walked sullenly back up the hill again. I now got hold of my rifle and reinforced Mike. W T e both moved on the enemy, this time more cautiously, Mike shaking like a leaf from the terrible rattling he had 46 RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. just gone through. We had gone but a few feet when he caught sight of the old lady again, and with a lucky shot landed a bullet in the butt of her ear, laying her dead within twenty feet of us. At the report of his rifle one of the others raised on its haunches and I sent a bullet through its UNITED IN DEATH. heart, making another funeral in that family. The third one concluded he wasn't hungry just then, and, skipping away through the jungle, made his escape without giving either of us a shot at him. We dragged the corpses of the two down and laid them RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 47 tenderly alongside of the elk, and Huffman leveled his camera on them again amid the plaudits of the admiring multitude. I have heard a great many stories of bears attacking persons without having first been attacked or hurt themselves, but never believed them. I have always considered them " bear stories," and have allowed them to pass in at one ear and out at the other. But the experience of that afternoon banished all skepticism from my mind on that topic. I am prepared to believe implicity hereafter that a grizzly will fight for fresh meat, and shall in the future govern myself accordingly. Many of my friends have expressed surprise at our being able to check them by rushing at them and without coming into actual contact with them. We hardly expected to be able to do so ourselves, and could only account for it by calling to mind instances in which we have seen a ferocious, savage dog rush at a man with the intention of tearing him to pieces, and have seen him quell and turn away under the influence of a stern and defiant demeanor assumed by his intended victim. Our assailants were not frightened, understand, any more than was the savage dog, but they walked slowly and reluc- tantly away, in each case frequently looking back over their shoulders and showing us their ugly teeth. If we had attempted flight instead of standing our ground we would undoubtedly have furnished the cold meat for a grizzly pic- nic. Mike says he don't want to run any more grizzlies unless they are muzzled and hobbled. He says he likes to see a dog so well trained that he will come promptly to heel when bidden, but he don't care to find another she "bar" so blamed fresh that she will insist on coming to heel without 48 RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. his bidding. But he showed good leather in staying in the fight until it was over. He had as close a call for a funeral as any man ever had that escaped it, and the shaking up that he and even Huffman and I got would have scared any man that ever wore pants. The woods are full of hunters that had they been dealt the hand that Mike got, would have been running yet. Nothing of importance was done the next forenoon. In the afternoon Weise, Sawyer and Allen returned and skinned the two bears, after which they hunted up the canyon some distance. They saw another large grizzly, and Sawyer got a shot at him at long range, through thick brush, and missed. The bear then ran across toward Allen who got in two running shots, but with no better success. As they were returning Weise killed a grizzly cub, and saw an old one go spinning off through the thicket near by, but didn't get a shot at her. Wednesday the 2oth we moved camp up to the mouth of the canyon, and spent the day in making a new camp. Thursday hunted up canyon to the top of the range, from which we had a fine view of the main range of the Rockies, away off to the southwest. We could also see steam issuing from the geysers in the National Park. Saw no game except blue grouse, and no signs of anything larger. Thursday' was uneventful, but on Friday afternoon Sawyer and Weise went back to the elk carcasses, and each got another shot at a large grizzly, but again made "unaccountable" misses. About this time Allen was visited by a large carbuncle, which landed on his cheek, and almost confined him to camp for the next two or three days. Otherwise things were quiet; no ene made any good scores during that time. Sawyer set his gun near the elk carcass, Sunday evening, with a piece of fresh meat at the muzzle, and a string leading from it to the trigger. RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES. 49 Early Monday morning all hands started for the front to see what it had killed. Sure enough on arriving there they found that the bate had been disturbed, and the gun discharged. There were a few tracks of a bear still visible, but owing to a heavy rain having fallen in the meantime, the trail could not be followed. Allen took a seat in a tree near the elk carcass, and before he had been there half an hour, heard the familiar "oh-woh, oh-woh" of a black bear, and looking up the hill saw one coming directly toward him. He waited until it came within about twenty yards, when he fired, the ball striking just in the sticking place, ranging upward and breaking the spine. Bruin never smiled again. When returning in the afternoon the grizzly that had fallen a victim to Sawyer's set gun the night before, was found. He was a very large one, was shot through the paunch and lay within one hundred yards of where the gun was set. Wednesday the 27th all hands went up the same canyon again and found plenty of fresh elk signs. Sawyer soon got sight of a cow about two hundred yards away, running across him. He fired when she turned, and ran the other way. He fired again and knocked her down, but she got up at once, ran again and was soon out of sight. We tried to trail her by the blood, but could not find her. In a few minutes we heard Mike put in seven shots in rapid succession, and then shout. We went to him and found he had killed a fine cow. We dressed her, hung the hide, tallow and most of the meat up in a tree, and went to camp. The time had now arrived for us to close the present cam- paign, and on the morrow, after collecting the meat, hides, etc., and bringing them in, we broke camp and started home. And thus endeth the narrative of our three weeks of " Rust- lings in the Rockies." CHAPTER VI. IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. AWAY TO THE MOUNTAINS THE RED RIVER VALLEY A GARDEN IN THE DESERT FROM BISMARCK TO GLENDIVE THE BAD LANDS ON THE LITTLE MISSOURI "HELL WITH THE FIRE OUT" FOUR HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-THREE BRIDGES IN TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE MILES A DRIVE UP THE YELLOWSTONE BUTCHERS AND UUKFALOES A WORD OF WARNING OFF TO THE BIG HORN. A year ago to-day I started on my first trip to Montana, and to-day, August 27, 1881, I find myself at the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul depot, with my rifle, cartridges, hunting suit, and camp equipage packed, preparatory to another journey to the same mystic quarter of the world, only that I am bound further into the territory this time than before, and also into the northern portion of Wyoming, my main objective point this time being the Big Horn mountains. I told the baggage man to check my baggage to Glendive, Montana. " Glendive ! Is that all the further you're going?" No, but that is as far as I can ride I shall have to walk the rest of the way. My ticket secured, I retired to rest in th elegant and lux- urious sleeper attached to the train, and awoke next morning at La Crosse. At one P.M. we landed in the new union depot at St. Paul. Here I stopped to visit a friend until the next evening at seven o'clock, when I boarded the train on the Northern Pacific railroad, and we pulled out for Bismarck. While in St. Paul, I had the pleasure of meeting that sterling old soldier, Major Guido Ilges, who commanded the perilous 50 IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. 51 expedition to the Upper Missouri in the winter of 1879-80, in which the Sioux chief Gall and his band were captured. This was a movement of great value and importance to the country, for it virtually broke up the hostile element of the Sioux nation. It left them too weak to successfully hold out against the army longer, and the ultimate surrender of Crow King, Log Dog, Sitting Bull and the others, followed as a necessary consequence. After a night's run from St. Paul, we entered the famous Red river valley, the greatest wheat growing country in the world. The crop this year is bountiful, and is now being threshed and shipped. Steam threshers can be seen at work in every direction, and the grain, in many instances, is being hauled directly to the stations, and loaded into cars. West of Fargo to Bismarck, there are still millions of acres of un- cultivated lands, as rich and as valuable for farming and graz- ing purposes as any of those that are already under cultivation. But they are settling up rapidly. Years ago, when this road was first projected, there were those who pronounced its originators insane. It was said that if a road were built across the continent this far north, it could not be operated more than six months in the year, ow- ing to the terrible winters experienced in this latitude ; but in practical contradiction of this theory, the fact is announced that, while so many roads further south were blockaded by snow during a greater portion of that terrible winter of 1879-80, the Northern Pacific was not blockaded a single day. It was said that the region through which the line was to run was a bleak, snowy, inhospitable desert, where nothing in the way of farm or garden products could be made to grow, and where stock, as well as human beings, must inevitably perish from cold. But the hundreds of prosperous farms, the beautiful crops, and the large and successful stock ranches all along the 52 IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. route, far up toward the Rocky Mountains, give us ocular demonstration of the fact that the desert has been made to blossom as the rose. And not only has it been found possi- ble to build a railroad and till the soil in this latitude, but the Canadian government is building a trans-continental road on a line two to three hundred miles north of this, that promises equally favorable results. We arrived at Bismarck at six o'clock in the evening, and stopped over night. Mr. John Leasure, an intimate friend of former days, whom I met here, entertained me very pleasantly during the evening with an account of a hunt in which he participated, in the Musselshell country, a few years ago. The party killed a number of grizzly and cinnamon bears, elk, mountain sheep, deer, etc. He says it is one of the best localities in the West for game of this class. He is a frontiersman of several years' experience, and a skillful and successful hunter. We left Bismarck at six o'clock the next morning for Glendive, the then terminus of the road ; passed through a beautiful series of valleys, including the Hart, the Curlew, the Knife, the Cannonball and others, through each of which flow streams of water, varying in size as well as quality some of them being pure and others tinctured with alkali. But there is plenty of sweet water for agricultural purposes, and the land is as finely situated for farming or stock growing as any one could desire. We passed through the world-famous Bad Lands, border- ing the Little Missouri, during the afternoon. These have been described so often by various writers that I will not here detain the reader by adding anything to what has already been said, and besides no one, though he may read volumes of descriptions of this marvellous region, can form any con- ception of what these Bad Lands are like. They must be IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. 5 seen to be intelligently understood. General Sully's descrip- tion of them, However, will bear repetition here, for it is multum in parvo. He tersely characterized them as "hell with the fire out." Some idea of the expense of building a railroad through this country and along these winding streams may be derived from the fact that there are 473 bridges on the Missouri division, which is only 221 miles long. We arrived at Glendive at 7:30 o'clock in the evening, and were cordially greeted by Major Bell and Lieutenant Slocum, of the Seventh cavalry. Mr. T. C. Kurtz, who is in charge of the company's store at that place, fed and lodged us in a most hospitable and comfortable manner. As soon as I arrived, I commenced to figure on the means of getting from there to Miles City and Fort Keough. Fortunately I formed the acquaintance of Dr. G. E. Bushnell, an army sur- geon, who was en route to Fort Ellis, via Fort Keough, and who was coming through in an ambulance. I drew on my ample supply of cheek, and requested permission to accom- pany him, which he kindly granted. Accordingly we left Glendive at seven o'clock the next morning, on a construc- tion train destined for Cabin Creek, fifteen miles further on, where the Doctor's ambulance was awaiting him. We reached it in good time, hastily transferred ourselves to it, and our baggage to an escort wagon, and were off for a seventy miles drive up the Yellowstone. The mules were in good condition, the drivers gave them the buckskin vigor- ously, and the cloud of dust we left behind us showed the other voyagers in the valley that we were not disposed to waste any time making the journey. We arrived at Captain Snider' s camp, at the mouth of Powder river, at four o'clock in the evening, where a relay awaited us. The captain invited us to a sumptuous lunch, which we discussed with a relish, while the fresh teams were being hooked on. When these 54 IN THE BIG MORN MOUNTAINS. duties had been performed, we resumed our seat in the ambu- lance and again spun away over the plains. The doctor was accompanied by his good wife, who is pretty, witty and vivacious, and her conversation added greatly to the enjoyment of the trip. We passed through Miles City at half-past ten, and a few minutes later arrived at Fort Keough, which is situated two miles further up the river. I proceeded at once to the quarters of my old friend, Captain Borden. He had retired for the night, but a ring at his door bell brought forth a stentorian " Come in," from his sleeping apartment. I obeyed the order, and as I entered, I could discern in the darkness the white-robed form of the genial captain coming to meet me, and could hear the thump- ity-bump of his bare feet on the floor. I announced myself, and he replied in his cordial, whole- souled way, "Well, bully for you, Coquina, I'm devilish glad to see you." " How do you make that out," I said, " you haven 1 1 seen me yet." " Well, I'm glad you've come, all the same, and I will see you as soon as I can strike a light." This accomplished, we sat down and had a " big talk," which lasted into the early hours of the morning ere peace was declared, and we both sought our couches. The next day being Sunday, we spent it in looking about the post and city, and in friendly intercourse with the various officers at the post. I was shown three elk that are in one of the corrals here two bulls and a cow. The bulls are just beginning to rub the velvet from their horns. The three were sold to a railroad officer a few days ago for fifty dollars, and will soon be shipped East. Capt. Borden had a pet antelope that one of his men brought in in the spring. It is a graceful, handsome little creature, and made a beautiful pet. lL to see what had become of our dinner. We had no shelter /o put it under, and were obliged to leave it to the mercy of ihe storm. We collected the fragments together, reconstn>:ted them to the best of our ability, and sat down to a rep>iSt, of which the following is about the MENU. SOUP. Cold rainwater. MEATS. Breakfast bacon, rainwater sauce. GAME. Teal Duck, all shot away. ENTREES. Pork and Beans, soaked in rainwaU VEGETABLES. Fried Potatoes, ditto. BREAD. Hot biscuit, ditto. Hard tack, ditto. DRINKS. Coffee, diluted with rainwater, three to one. Rainwater straight. 60 IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. After dinner we put up our tent, just as some men lock up their barn after their best horse has been stolen. We went to a hay-stack near camp, and got hay for our animals and for beds, and slept comfortably. At noon the next day we reached the Rosebud river, a stream that has been rendered famous by the Indian cam- paigns of Generals Terry, Crook, Custer and Miles. Their trails may still be seen at frequent intervals, leading into or out of the valley, and remains of their old camp-fires may be found on every available camping-ground. The Rosebud is a narrow, deep, clear, swift-running stream, that looks as if it might bear bass, pike and other game fishes, but I am told that the catfish is the only species known to inhabit its waters. The valley is broad, level, fertile, and will eventually all be turned over by the plow and produce good crops. There are no settlements on it yet, with the exception of two or three cattle ranches. Several other ranches have been located, but the "shacks" have not yet been built. The valley is enclosed on either side with a range of hills that are down on the map as the Rosebud mountains, though they are scarcely of sufficient magnitude to entitle them to such dis- tinction. Nearly all the peaks or buttes are capped with red, fire-baked clay, and the stream takes its name from the fancied resemblance these hills bear to rosebuds. The immediate banks of the stream are covered with a light growth of timber, mostly cottonwood. It make good fuel, and this is about the only use that can be made of it, though an inferior quality of fence posts and railroad ties may be manufactured from it. None of the trees are large enough for lumber. The only game found on this stream, now, is deer; and they are scarce, owing to its having been hunted so persistently both by soldiers and Indians. At noon on the ist of September we passed a point further IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. 61 up the river, where the Bozeman expedition, a party of citi- zens who left Bozeman in 1874 to explore the Yellowstone val- ley, were corraled by Sioux Indians and besieged for several days. The party numbered one hundred and thirty men, and the rifle pits which they constructed and occupied are still intact. They lost a large number of horses in the fight, the bones of which still lie bleaching on the field. The Indians finally abandoned the siege and withdrew, after sacrificing several of their number to the deadly aim of the white hunters' rifles. None of the whites were injured. During the afternoon, we found a covey of eight sharp- tail grouse in the sage brush near the road, and got seven of them with our rifles before they got out of reach. Our large bore rifles cut them up pretty badly, but we managed to save the breasts of them all, and they made us a good supper and breakfast. This was the first game we had found on the trip. That night we camped near the mouth of Lame Deer creek, on the scene of Gen. Miles' fight with a band of Minne Conjoux and Ogelalla Sioux, under chief Lame Deer, in 1878. The Indians were defeated and captured. Lame Deer was cornered in a coulee, and seeing there was no chance of escape, came out and surrendered. He walked up to Gen. Miles ostensibly to deliver his arms to him. The General sat upon his horse, and, when within a few feet of him, Lame Deer suddenly raised his rifle, aimed it full at the General's breast, and fired. The General kicked the muzzle of the gun to one side just in time to save his own life, but the ball passed by him and killed his orderly, who sat on another horse just behind him. The treacherous red skin then started to run, but a volley from the soldiers' carbines filled his worthless skin full of bullet-holes, and sent him over the divide forever. During the forenoon of the 2d of September we passed the 62 IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. place where poor Custer made his last camp. In the early morning he had sighted the Indian village in the valley of the Little Big Horn, from the top of one of the peaks of the Wolf mountains, thirty-five miles east of here, and rode from there to this point on the Rosebud, where he halted only for his men to make coffee it can scarcely be called a camp, strictly speaking and as soon as they had swallowed their frugal meal, they remounted, rode all night, and struck the Sioux village at daylight; with what fatal consequences to himself and his brave band we all know, alas ! too well. The remnants of their camp-fires still lie scattered over the river bottom, as melancholy relics of this, their last supper. Poor, brave boys ! little did they think, as they sipped their coffee and ate their hard bread around these fires, that the morrow's sun would shine upon their lifeless forms, and that not one of them would live to tell the world how his comrades fell. The two branches of the Rosebud unite here, and the locality is called the "Forks of the Rosebud." We con- tinued our march up the south fork, as it would take us into the mountains farther south than would the north fork. As we rode leisurely along, about the middle of the afternoon a coyote broke cover some two hundred yards ahead of us, and started on his long, shambling trot across the prairie. We turned our artillery loose on him, and to use a frontier phrase, literally set the ground afire all around him. We didn't take the trouble to dismount, but sat in our saddles and "fanned" him just for fun. We fired no less than twenty shots at him, and, though none of them hit him, we made it so hot for him that he scarcely knew which way to run. Occasionally a ball would strike just in front of him, plowing the dirt into his face, when he would change his course, and no sooner get started in another direction than a repetition of the offense would give him another whirl. Then three bullets would IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. 63 strike on as many sides of him at once, and he would jump as if trying to get out of his skin. Finally, when he did get out of our range, he did some of the tallest running I have seen done in many a day, and I don't believe he stopped before dark that night. Just before going into camp that evening, we saw five deer standing near the foot of a hill, about six hundred yards away, looking at us. We all dismounted, knelt down, ad- justed our sights carefully to what we judged the distance to be, and fired at the largest buck. As our smoke cleared away, we saw him turn a somersault, and fall dead. We made camp, went and brought him in, and from that time on had plenty of fresh meat. The Crow Indians had burned the grass all along the Rosebud and Little Big Horn rivers, and on the intervening table-lands, so that we often had great difficulty in finding grazing for our animals. The country in question is covered by their reservation, and it is supposed that they have burned it to prevent the white ranchmen from grazing their cattle, or making hay on the reservation. They are becoming hos- tile toward the whites, and have ordered several parties of white hunters, haymakers, etc., off their land. They have even gone so far as to burn several stacks of hay that had been cut on the reservation contrary to their wishes. By these and other hostile demonstrations, they are brewing a storm over their heads that will burst upon them one of these days, and they will be driven off their lands as the Sioux, Utes, and other tribes have been in the past. The fact of ranchmen or military parties cutting hay on their lands is not a matter they should object to at all, for the grass is there, they (the Indians) will not cut it, and if not cut it rots or is burned on the ground. It is better for all concerned that it should be harvested and utilized, and this dog-in-the-manger 64 IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. policy of the Crows is making violent enemies of all the ranchmen in the surrounding country. As to game, there are thousands of heads of it on the Crow lands, and they rarely kill any except buffalo. So long as they can draw rations and annuities from the government, they will not take the trouble to hunt, further than to go out once or twice a year, and butcher a lot of buffaloes. CHAPTER VIII. AT THE FORKS OF THE ROSEBUD. GOOD LUCK WITH THE GROUSE INTERVIEWED BY A CROW SCOUT FIRST SIGHT OF THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS THREE DEER KILLED WITH FOUR SHOTS, "DEUCED CLEVAH!" FANNING THE COYOTES ALL LOADED FOR BEAR KILLED, BUT LOST AFTER ALL WET GRO- CERIES FOR BREAKFAST. WE camped at the forks of the Rosebud on the night of the 2d of September near the sight of General Crook's fight with the Sioux, on the i;th of June, 1876. The rifle pits are still well preserved ; the position Crook occupied can easily be traced by these, and various other relics that remain on the field. A covey of sharp-tailed grouse came within a few yards of our camp late in the evening, and with a few lucky shots we took the heads