THE BOY WITH THE 
 
 PPERS 
 
 FRANCIS ROLT-WHEELER.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 WILLIAM P. WREDEN
 
 The Boy With the U. S. Trappers
 
 BOOKS BY FRANCIS ROLT-WHEELER 
 
 TIL S. Service Series 
 
 Illustrations from Photographs taken for U. S. Government. 
 
 Large lamo. Cloth. Price $1.50 each. 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. SURVEY 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. FORESTERS 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. CENSUS 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. FISHERIES 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. INDIANS 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. EXPLORERS 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. LIFE-SAVERS 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. MAIL 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. WEATHER MEN 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. NATURALISTS 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Cloth. 
 
 flDuseum Series 
 
 Illustrations from Photographs loaned by American Museum 
 of Natural History. Large I2mo. 
 
 Price $1.50 each. 
 THE MONSTER-HUNTERS 
 THE POLAR HUNTERS 
 THE AZTEC-HUNTERS 
 
 THE WONDER OF WAR IN THE AIR 
 
 THE WONDER OF WAR ON LAND 
 
 THE WONDER OF WAR AT SEA 
 
 THE WONDER OF WAR IN THE HOLY LAND 
 
 With Illustrations from unusual War Photographs and 
 Sketches. Large I2mo. Cloth. Price $1.50 each. 
 
 LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON
 
 Courtesy of " Outing " Magazine. 
 
 A CALIFORNIA HUNTER AND TRAPPER OF THE PIONEER DAYS.
 
 U. S. SERVICE SERIES. 
 
 THE BOY WITH 
 THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS ROLT-WHEELER 
 
 With Forty-four Illustrations from Selected Photographs 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
 
 Published, November, 1919 
 
 Copyright, 1919, 
 BY LOTHBOP, LEE & SHEPABD Co. 
 
 All Riffhts Reserved 
 
 THE EOT WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 florwoofc prees 
 
 BERWICK & SMITH CO. 
 
 NORWOOD, MASS. 
 U. S. A.
 
 TZ-7 
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 The Author desires to acknowledge the courtesy 
 and assistance of Mr. E. W. Nelson, Chief of the 
 U. S. Biological Survey, of Mr. J. S. Ligon, in 
 charge of Biological Survey work for the state 
 of New Mexico, and of hunters and trappers at- 
 tached to the Survey. 
 
 Also acknowledgment is made to the various 
 sportsmen's magazines throughout the country, 
 both for permission to use data as well as photo- 
 graphs from these publications, notably, Forest 
 and Stream, Outing, Field and Stream, and 
 Hunter-Trader-Trapper. Reference also is made 
 to the assistance of the trapping publications of 
 A. S. Harding, notably "Wolf and Coyote Trap- 
 ping," " Steel Traps," "Deadfalls and Snares," 
 and "Fifty Years a Trapper," also to Andersch 
 Bros.' "Hunters' and Trappers' Guide," and to 
 Agnes Laut's "The Story of the Trapper."
 
 PREFACE 
 
 The trapper lias ever been the symbol to 
 America of robust manhood and of the desire to 
 press forward the ideals and the civilization of 
 the United States to their farthest bounds. No 
 country has been too wild or rugged for him, no 
 venture too daring, no peril too great. Many of 
 the frontier heroes of America were trappers and 
 hunters. 
 
 The lure of trapping is not gone, on the con- 
 trary, as game has become scarcer and the re- 
 quirements of modern life sterner, trapping has 
 become more difficult. In no field is this diffi- 
 culty greater than in the work undertaken by the 
 U. S. Biological Survey, which has set itself the 
 task of controlling the predatory animals of the 
 country, the ravages of which cost the stock- 
 raisers and farmers of the United States tens of 
 millions of dollars yearly. 
 
 There is need for the alei. and wary woods- 
 man, to-day, as there ever was. There is need 
 for young fellows of bravery, determination, and
 
 PREFACE vii 
 
 the love of the wild in their veins. To show the 
 boys of America how splendid is the work of the 
 Government trapper, to present the cunning of 
 the hunted animals, to show the conditions of mod- 
 ern trapping, to explain the latest and most ap- 
 proved methods, and, above all, to give a new 
 insight into a virile and thrilling occupation, done, 
 not for gain, but for the betterment of the United 
 States, is the aim and purpose of 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I PAGE 
 
 GHOST CANYON 1 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 THE GRIZZLY- WOMAN 35 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 DOWNING A SELFISH GREASER ..... 68 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 102 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 138 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 CAUGHT IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 171 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 206 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 232 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 A FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES ..... 261 
 
 viii
 
 CONTENTS ix 
 
 CHAPTER X PAGE 
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 290 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF . ... 338 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 A California Hunter and Trapper of the Pioneer 
 
 Days Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 
 Death in the Path 14 
 
 Bob-Cat in Tree, with Member of Roosevelt Party Photo- 
 graphing It 22 
 
 Find the Bob-Cat 22 
 
 'Ware the Werewolf! 32 
 
 Colonel Roosevelt Killing a Grizzly 50 
 
 "Is It Straight?" 64 
 
 Safe from the Dogs but Not from a Gun 80 
 
 The Cougar Snarled Viciously at the Dogs Below ... 96 
 
 Canada Lynxes Treed by Hunting-Dogs 96 
 
 "Yap! Yap! Yap! Yow-ee-ow-ow !" 110 
 
 "The Vagabond Outcast in Gray" 110 
 
 Boney Moore Holding up Live Coyote 120 
 
 Colonel Roosevelt and the Coyote 130 
 
 Live Coyote Gagged with a Handkerchief 136 
 
 Live Coyote Afore; Dead Coyote Aft 136 
 
 Two Coyotes Trapped at the Same Time 146 
 
 Cattle Grazing on National Forest in Colorado .... 146 
 
 Coyote Trapped by Forest Ranger 162 
 
 Half a Million Sheep Destroyed by Coyotes Yearly . . 162
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACING 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "The Lean Gray Wolf Came Out of the Wood" . . .170 
 
 Following up the Trail 186 
 
 Prehistoric Man and the Cave-Bear 216 
 
 "With a Low Growl, the She-Bear Launched Herself 
 
 Upon His Back" 222 
 
 "Though Terribly Clawed, the Captain Staggered Back 
 to the Settlements" 222 
 
 Wyoming Black Bear Taking His Ease 238 
 
 Old Uncle Ephraim 238 
 
 Out for Their First Walk 250 
 
 The Bear that Climbs Like a Man 260 
 
 Any Bear up a Tree is a Black Bear 260 
 
 The Two-Hundreth Christmas Reception 284 
 
 Pussy but not Domestic ! 294 
 
 "Don't Go Too Close!" 294 
 
 The Full-Grown Cougar is an Ugly Customer to Tackle 
 
 if the First Shot is not Mortal 310 
 
 A Colorado Bob-Cat Brought to Bay. This Animal had 
 
 Already Killed Two of the Dogs 310 
 
 The Children Who Stood Off a Cougar 314 
 
 Cougar Solidly Held in Trap 320 
 
 Round-Up on a National Forest in Arizona 320 
 
 The Best-Hated Animal on Earth 324 
 
 The Animal Spirit of Evil 336 
 
 "The Hungry Pack was on Them !" 366 
 
 A Fight Against Awful Odds 374
 
 THE BOY WITH THE U. S. 
 TRAPPERS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 GHOST CANYON 
 
 GAVAN sat on an outcrop of rock, his back 
 against the cliff, his rifle across his knees. Al- 
 though generally impervious to fear, he now felt 
 horribly afraid. 
 
 The sun, rapidly nearing the distant horizon 
 of the Jemez Mountains, seen through the per- 
 spective of the canyon, threw long shadows from 
 a small cairn of stones, hastily piled up by the 
 boy's hands. It was all that he had been able 
 to make for a grave. 
 
 Thirty feet farther down the slope lay the body 
 of a mountain lion, the last glinting rays of the 
 sun turning to orange the tawny skin of the 
 animal. 
 
 Young though he was, Gavan Keary would 
 usually have faced a night's watch in the moun-
 
 2 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 tains without a qualm. Here it was different. 
 Ghost Canyon was a spot that even the most reck- 
 less of cattle-punchers avoided after nightfall. 
 
 In spite of all terrors, natural or supernatural, 
 Gavan's duty seemed to him clear. Not until the 
 morning sun rose on the canyon would he be 
 justified in leaving the grave, beneath the stones 
 of which lay his cousin's mangled body. "Blue 
 Joe" Keary had been a hard man and rough, but 
 he had been an efficient protector to the lad for 
 several years, and Gavan felt woefully alone. 
 
 It seemed incredible that so old a hand as Blue 
 Joe, so consummate a shot, so keen a hunter, 
 should have come to his death from a mere "var- 
 mint," but the exploded rifle which Gavan had 
 propped up against the grave told the tale. 
 Dead his cousin was, without a doubt. Now, be- 
 fall what might, it lay upon Gavan to see that the 
 body was not desecrated. 
 
 Ordinarily, Gavan would have been satisfied to 
 tramp around the grave a few times to put the 
 hated man-smell on the place as a protection 
 against any of the prowling creatures of the wild, 
 but Ghost Canyon was not like any other place 
 in the mountains. Strange creatures were said 
 to haunt that region by night, creatures which
 
 GHOST CANYON 3 
 
 would pay little heed to a rifle shot. None the 
 less, despite his superstition, Gavan felt solid 
 comfort in the knowledge that he had his rifle 
 with him and more than enough ammunition. 
 
 Between where he sat and the pile of stones 
 that he was watching, the ground, with its alter- 
 nation of juniper, sage-brush and prickly-pear, 
 was blotched with red stains, now turning black, 
 and the soil itself showed the marks of a struggle. 
 The ruddy glow from the sunset sky made plainly 
 visible the footprints, hoof-marks and cougar 
 tracks which explained the tragic story. 
 
 Of book-knowledge Gavan Keary possessed but 
 little, but he was an apt scholar in that great book 
 of which every day and every night inscribes a 
 new page the book of woods life. Tracks are 
 not easy to read, even for the expert it is only 
 the tenderfoot who thinks they are but Gavan 
 had pieced out the story, mark by mark, until 
 he knew what had happened almost as clearly as 
 though he had seen it all with his own eyes. 
 
 Although mountan lions were not uncommon 
 in that part of New Mexico, several having been 
 treed by dogs in cottonwoods or yellow pine trees 
 and then shot by the hunters, this one was the very 
 first that the boy had seen. He had observed the
 
 4 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 tracks of the great cat numberless times, but, as 
 Gavan knew well, it is one of the shyest of all 
 animals, hunting by night, or during dusk and 
 dawn. It takes good, especially-trained dogs to 
 rout out a mountain lion, or cougar, and run him 
 down. 
 
 This animal, now lying dead at the edge of the 
 pinon thicket down the hill, had committed an 
 unpardonable crime. It had killed a young and 
 valued colt in the home corral, and Blue Joe 
 Keary had vowed he would not rest till he had se- 
 cured vengeance. 
 
 He had secured his vengeance, indeed, and he 
 was at rest. 
 
 It had been a bitter fight, a fight to the death. 
 Not only was the hunter slain, not only was the 
 cougar killed, but the two dogs had been killed 
 also. Gavan had laid the bodies of the two faith- 
 ful hounds at Blue Joe's feet and covered them 
 also with great stones, not without the thought 
 that there must be a place, somewhere, for dogs 
 that had given their lives to try to save their 
 masters. 
 
 Duff, the boy's own dog, a nondescript with a 
 good nose and an astonishing gift for following 
 a trail, but unfortunately possessed of a strong
 
 GHOST CANYON 5 
 
 yellow streak, was stretched out on the ground, 
 his head between his paws, sniffing uneasily. 
 Gavan's pony, hobbled, was grazing at the scanty 
 herbage a couple of hundred yards away. 
 
 Events had happened swiftly since the early 
 part of the afternoon, when Blue Joe's horse, 
 riderless, came tearing home to the corral. The 
 boy had been conscious of a presentiment of evil 
 all the day, and Duff had been behaving queerly. 
 Two or three times, shortly after midday, the 
 hound had set up a long, high howl, mournful in 
 the extreme, not unlike the howl of a coyote. 
 Gavan had tried to pacify his inner fears with 
 the thought that it was only because Duff had 
 been left behind from the hunt that he expressed 
 himself thus distressfully, but in his heart of 
 hearts, the boy knew otherwise. 
 
 Woods-wise, he kne\* that animals have a 
 curious prescience of disaster. He remembered 
 how Si Buckthorne's dog had broken away from 
 his cabin the day that his master's horse put his 
 foot in a badger hole and fell, breaking his leg 
 and throwing his rider heavily on a bowlder ; and 
 how the dog, after finding the wounded man, had 
 made his way back to camp and led a rescue party 
 to the place. He had heard how the former
 
 6 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 sheriff's dog had howled the long night through 
 on that famous raid when a vigilance commit- 
 tee had tried conclusions with a gang of cattle- 
 rustlers and several men on both sides had bit 
 the dust, the sheriff among them. 
 
 Wherefore, when Duff suddenly took to howl- 
 ing in the middle of the day, Gavan had grown 
 uneasy, his fears being further heightened by the 
 return of Blue Joe's horse without its rider. 
 
 It had taken him but a few minutes to catch 
 and saddle his own pony, to stuff some pan- 
 bread in one pocket and a bottle of cordial in 
 the other and to set off in the direction of Ghost 
 Canyon, in which general direction, he knew, his 
 cousin had started off that morning. After a 
 couple of hours' riding, Duff had picked up the 
 trail. 
 
 The keen-nosed dog l^ad led the boy to a hole 
 in the rocks and there his yellow streak asserted 
 itself. He bayed outside, but would not go in. 
 This had put Gavan in a predicament. Though 
 by no means lacking in courage, he realized that 
 it would be foolhardy for him to creep on all- 
 fours into such a place, for he could not see to 
 use his rifle and if, as was possible, the she-cat 
 were there and there were cubs in the den, even
 
 GHOST CANYON 7 
 
 the natural cowardice of the mountain lion would 
 not keep her from giving fight. 
 
 In this strait, Gavan thought of a plan he had 
 heard recounted by Quick Feather, the old Indian 
 hunter who lived in Taos pueblo, and who had 
 some farming land near the Keary Eanch. 
 Rapidly interlocking the twigs of a couple of 
 branches together, so that they formed a rack 
 somewhat like a flat basket, he laid dry sticks 
 thereon and set fire to them, finally, when they 
 were blazing, throwing on the fire some growing 
 shoots of rabbit-brush. This sent up a thick, 
 choking smoke. Then, with a long piece of sap- 
 ling to get which he had been forced to make 
 a considerable climb down into the ravine 
 Gavan thrust the smoking mass far into the cave, 
 then jumped to one side with his rifle ready, in 
 case any animals should come out. 
 
 The ruse failed utterly. Not a growl, not a 
 snarl, not even a spit, came from the cave. Evi- 
 dently it was empty. The dogs must have routed 
 out the mountain lion from its den, earlier in the 
 day. 
 
 Circling round, making wider and wider casts, 
 Gavan kept Duff at work until at last the dog 
 found the trail again and set off, giving voice
 
 8 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 with the deep bay of a mongrel hound. Since 
 there were no signs of blood on the trail, Gavan 
 judged, and rightly, that the dogs had run far in 
 advance of Blue Joe, and that the cougar had been 
 started before the hunter had come within gun- 
 shot. 
 
 For a short distance the trail seemed easy to 
 follow, for Duff ran along steadily, never at fault. 
 Yet Gavan felt puzzled. Why did the trail con- 
 tinue toward the upper, rocky slopes? A 
 mountain lion, driven from its den and chased 
 by dogs which can outrun it almost invariably 
 makes for the timber, where, like any other cat, 
 it runs up a tree. The animal thus treed, the 
 hunter has ample time to ride up, and a clean 
 rifle shot ends the career of the beast of prey. 
 
 Instead of turning down creek toward the 
 timber, however, it was evident from the trail 
 which Duff was following, that this mountain lion 
 had traveled at a good speed over the stony slopes, 
 difficult ground for the pursuing dogs and even 
 more hindering for Blue Joe's cow-pony. The 
 slopes of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains are 
 rough in the extreme. 
 
 Either this particular mountain lion had been 
 hunted before, the boy premised, or else it pos-
 
 GHOST CANYON 9 
 
 sessed an instinctive wisdom. As Gavan well 
 knew, every wild animal is an individual as well 
 as the unit of a species. It is never safe to as- 
 sume that the general customs of any given 
 species of wild animal will always be carried out 
 by every member of that species. Every animal 
 has a separate and distinct personality, if not to 
 the same extent as Man, at least in the same 
 manner. This mountain lion, for example, was 
 keeping away from the temptation of a refuge 
 in the timber as clearly as though it understood 
 what danger lay therein. 
 
 As Gavan rode hard after Duff, halting when 
 the hound lost the trail and dashing on when he 
 picked it up again, the boy seemed to see clearly 
 before him the scene that had been enacted over 
 this same ground but a few hours before. He 
 could conceive the tawny, half-visible body of the 
 cougar, streaking along the mountainside with 
 long, lithe cat-like runs and leaps; the hounds, 
 their tongues hanging out, eager for the prey, 
 laboring over the rough ground which impeded 
 their speed; behind, Blue Joe, on his pony, spur- 
 ring viciously and grumbling fiercely because he 
 feared that the mountain lion might escape. 
 
 Over the saddle-back and on the down slope
 
 io WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 of the next mountain the ground opened out into 
 a characteristic mountain meadow, green and 
 grassy. Duff struck straight across. On the 
 farther edge of the stretch, Gravan pulled up 
 swiftly. A small patch of blood was visible, at 
 which the dog sniffed uneasily. The ground was 
 too hard to show a mark, but it was evident that 
 one or both of the dogs had overtaken the chase, 
 the level ground having given their greater speed 
 its opportunity. 
 
 There were not signs enough to show exactly 
 what had happened. Either one of the dogs had 
 got a grip and wounded the cougar, or, as seemed 
 more probable, one of them had leapt for a grip 
 and been tossed off with a sidewise slash of that 
 cruel head. The boy knew well enough that the 
 cougar would not challenge in the open, that he 
 would not turn at bay unless cornered. It seemed 
 sure, therefore, this blood showed that one of the 
 two dogs was wounded. 
 
 On the farther side of this stretch was a welter 
 of rocks and thence the trail led into some chap- 
 arral, all low scrub, mainly of Arizona live oak, 
 willow and gnarled blue spruce, without a single 
 tree large enough to bear the great cat's weight. 
 Through this tangle the lithe body of the cougar
 
 C>. xm^ " *-*^LJT 
 
 avuoa ** True Lynx (w
 
 12 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 slipped easily, increasing the lead betweei! him 
 and his pursuers. 
 
 Beyond the chaparral, only faint tracks were 
 to be seen here and there, and these, though diffi- 
 cult to read, told a definite story. The round 
 cat-prints were closer together, showing that the 
 leaps were shorter, and the rear of the foot was 
 now making an impression, showing that springi- 
 ness was being lost from the step. The mountain 
 lion, no match in speed for the dogs, was tiring. 
 The intervention of the chaparral, however, had 
 given him gtart enough to reach the entrance of 
 Ghost Canyon, though, probably, with the dogs 
 at his very heels and Blue Joe not very far be- 
 hind. 
 
 In Ghost Canyon itself, a small gorge cutting 
 into Tom Creek, the tracks became confused, and 
 it took all of Gavan's woodcraft to read the story. 
 For that matter, the boy could not be positive 
 that his interpretation was right. All that he 
 could do was to piece the evidence together into 
 a connected whole which would explain the signs 
 he saw. It seemed clear, however, by the blurred 
 marks near a thicket half-way up the canyon, 
 that the dogs had again overtaken the mountain 
 lion and pinned him down.
 
 GHOST CANYON 13 
 
 Just at this point, the hoof tracks showed 
 clearly where the pony had been stopped sud- 
 denly. Footmarks revealed the fact that Blue Joe 
 had dismounted. This could only be for the pur- 
 pose of taking a long shot at the mountain lion 
 before the animal made good its escape into the 
 thicket. The ravine of Ghost Canyon, higher up, 
 was impassable. 
 
 This should have been the end of the mountain 
 lion, for Blue Joe was a dead shot. Evidently, 
 however, the animal was half hidden or the 
 hunter's aim was not true, for Gavan, when he 
 had examined the body of the cougar, had ob- 
 served a deep flesh wound where the bullet had 
 plowed through, four inches above the joint of the 
 fore-leg, at which point a shot directed for the 
 heart should have penetrated, and thereby have 
 saved his cousin's life. 
 
 The actual cause for this ineffective shot could 
 not be traced, but Gavan guessed that perhaps 
 his cousin had been afraid to fire low for fear 
 of shooting the dogs. Still more probable was 
 the likelihood that the hunter had kept the bridle 
 of his pony over his arm when firing, lest the 
 horse should bolt at the hated smell of the cougar, 
 and that, just at the moment of pulling the
 
 i 4 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 trigger, the pony jerked his head, deflecting the 
 hunter's aim. 
 
 Wounded by the bullet, and, apparently, with 
 one if not both of the dogs hanging on to him, 
 the mountain lion had bounded into the thicket. 
 
 The scene in the thicket was largely a matter 
 of guesswork. The wounds in the cougar's neck 
 showed that one of the dogs, at least, had se- 
 cured a powerful grip. This grip, however, had 
 been partly broken, or at least weakened, by the 
 dragging underbrush. The other dog, probably, 
 had pinned the animal, for, as the ground showed, 
 the cougar had rolled over. Unwitting of the ter- 
 rible claws, the leading dog had tried to shift his 
 grip higher on the throat, but he was not quick 
 enough, and the sickle-like claws had toni away 
 almost the whole side of the dog's head and neck. 
 With one enemy thus disposed of, the cougar 
 shook off the other. 
 
 This was, undoubtedly, only a matter of a few 
 seconds, but it gave Blue Joe time to come up. 
 He was leading his pony, ready for another shot, 
 for, undoubtedly, the howls of the wounded and 
 furious dogs told him that the mountain lion was 
 at bay. The hunter advanced slowly. He knew 
 that, however eager the cougar may be to dodge
 
 Courtesy of - field and Stream." 
 
 DEATH IN THE PATH. 
 
 Only the most reckless hunter will close in on a wounded cougar. This 
 
 drawing is of a puma, the southern name of the 
 
 lighter-colored species of cougar.
 
 GHOST CANYON 15 
 
 a fight, when cornered he is a very dangerous foe. 
 
 When he had reached within a few feet of the 
 thicket, the infuriated and wounded cougar, his 
 green eyes blazing, his ears laid back, bloody foam 
 on his jaws, sprang out from the bushes on the 
 hunter. Blue Joe had not bee<i expecting this, for 
 rarely does a cougar charge. He threw his rifle 
 to his shoulder and fired at point blank range. 
 
 The gun, an old weapon, exploded, either from 
 a weakness in the metal resulting from years of 
 use, or because of a defective cartridge. 
 
 In a second bound, the cougar was on him. 
 
 Evidently Blue Joe, in a reflex action of self- 
 defense, must have tried to use the butt of the 
 gun as a club, for the weapon was bent as though 
 it had been used for a blow, but, as Gavan sur- 
 mised, there had been no sweep for the stroke, 
 for though it fell, and fell fair, it failed to break 
 the great cat's backbone. 
 
 The tracks now became too confused for the 
 details of the story to be clearly read, but it was 
 evident that Blue Joe had been thrown to the 
 ground by the shock of the animal's spring, even 
 though the force of that leap had been partly de- 
 flected by the blow from the gun-butt. Whether 
 the hunter had tried to jump back and missed his
 
 i8 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 The sharp teeth of the wounded feline had ended 
 the unequal battle and it had crawled toward the 
 thicket to hide and die. Loss of blood and the 
 deep internal wound caused by Blue Joe's hunt- 
 ing knife, however, had prevented the mountain 
 lion reaching this place of secrecy, and it had died 
 before finding shelter. 
 
 When Gavan reached the fatal place, guided 
 by Duff, the strife had been over for hours and 
 the bodies lay stiff. His cousin was crumpled 
 sidewise on the bloodstained ground; one of the 
 faithful hounds had crawled forward, when dying, 
 to give a last lick to his master's hand; the cougar 
 lay dead at the edge of the thicket; the other 
 hound was stretched out in the bushes. Hunters 
 and hunted alike had found a surcease to their 
 mutual hate. 
 
 Thus the boy read the story from the confused 
 tracks on the ground, from the exploded and 
 battered rifle, from the character of the wounds 
 upon the bodies of the slain, and from the hunting- 
 knife still clenched by the rigid grasp of death in 
 the hunter's hand. Possibly the actual sequence 
 of events might have been different in several de- 
 tails, for the tragedies of the wild rarely happen
 
 GHOST CANYON 19 
 
 twice in exactly the same manner, but the main 
 facts were there. 
 
 As soon as he had definitely decided that Blue 
 Joe was dead and that it would be in vain for him 
 to ride the necessary thirty miles to bring a 
 doctor from Taos, Gavan set himself to pile a 
 heap of stones over the body in order to keep 
 away any marauding animals, though, as lie knew, 
 there are few creatures that will touch man- 
 flesh, and none not even the coyote will do so 
 in summer, when other game is plentiful. Turkey 
 buzzards, however, are not so particular. 
 
 This duty done, Gavan was ready to ride to 
 XO ranch, on which the tragedy had taken place, 
 to give information of his cousin's death, in case 
 the coroner at Taos should deem it necessary 
 to make an investigation. Just as the lad was 
 setting foot to stirrup, however, the thought oc- 
 curred to him that while the precautions he had 
 taken were ordinarily quite sufficient, conditions 
 here were a little different. 
 
 He was forgetting that this was Ghost Canyon! 
 
 Strange stories were told about this place. 
 Creatures that seemed neither animal nor human 
 were said to haunt the Canyon, deeds that were
 
 16 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 footing or whether the mountain lion had actually 
 clawed him, nothing remained to tell. 
 
 Blue Joe had been hurled violently backwards, 
 that much was clear. If he had been able to turn 
 on his face as he went down, he might have saved 
 his throat, but the hunter had evidently at the 
 same time drawn his hunting-knife. 
 
 This move, which Blue Joe had designed as a 
 last means of saving his life, was the cause of 
 his losing it. Had he simply twisted as he fell, 
 landed face downwards and lain still, his head 
 drawn in as close to the shoulder-blades as pos- 
 sible, undoubtedly he would have been terribly 
 clawed about the shoulders and scalp, but, equally 
 probably, he would not have been killed. 
 
 A man lying on his face exposes no vital part 
 to a clawed animal. A man lying on his back will 
 be almost surely torn in pieces. There are 
 numberless cases in which men, who have been at- 
 tacked by wild animals they have wounded in the 
 chase, have saved their lives by this simple de- 
 fense. 
 
 Blue Joe, however, had not been thinking of 
 escape by this passive method. He was still 
 fighting. In drawing his knife and striking up- 
 wards at the cougar as he fell a most compli-
 
 GHOST CANYON 17 
 
 cated group of motions, when analyzed he had 
 not been able to twist over and fall directly on 
 his face, but had struck the ground sidewise. 
 The blade of the hunting knife had sunk deep 
 into the animal's body, causing a mortal, but 
 not immediately fatal, wound. It had not reached 
 the heart. 
 
 The added pain, however, had increased the 
 mountain lion's ferocity, and it had clawed and 
 bitten its victim, one of the claws ripping into the 
 soft flesh at the side of the throat and cutting 
 the jugular vein, and, probably, the external 
 carotid artery. The size of the blood-pool in 
 which Gavan had found his cousin suggested that 
 death had been speedy and painless. At least 
 Blue Joe had not suffered the agony of being 
 mangled and conscious withal. 
 
 The remaining dog, the one which had first been 
 wounded in the shoulder, and which had been 
 thrown off during the fight in the thicket, had 
 leapt again at the cougar while the latter stood 
 upon its victim, tearing him. Of this last tussle 
 there was little clew save the terrible wounds made 
 by the hound's teeth in the neck and throat of the 
 cougar, and the raking gashes of the great cat's 
 claws which had literally torn the dog to death.
 
 20 WITH THE ,U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 only told in whispers were always located here. 
 There was the story about the Wolf-Woman 
 who 
 
 Gavan shivered and swung into the saddle. 
 
 The feel of the pony beneath him, however, 
 quickly checked his fear and he reined in. It 
 was not far from sunset, now. 
 
 The boy looked back at the cairn of stones 
 and hesitated. If he should gallop away from 
 Ghost Canyon because of his superstitious fears, 
 and, in the morning, the grave should be disturbed, 
 how could he forgive himself? The mere idea 
 of staying in that haunted spot the whole night 
 through sent a prickling sensation down the lad's 
 back, and gave him a hollow sensation of fear as 
 though he had not eaten for several days. 
 
 But he turned back into the canyon, dismounted, 
 unsaddled and hobbled the pony. He threw 
 some more stones on the pile, to make it all the 
 safer. Then, taking advantage of the waning 
 light, he hunted for a place whence he could watch 
 without being too conspicuous himself, and where, 
 at the same time, he could not be taken by sur- 
 prise from the rear. The friendly sound of the 
 rushing waters of Tom Creek not more than two 
 hundred yards away, sounded in his ears.
 
 GHOST CANYON 21 
 
 Then, whistling Duff to his side though, in- 
 deed, the dog showed little desire to be away from 
 his young master Gavan settled himself in this 
 niche with his back to the cliff, saw that his rifle 
 was in order, and commenced a frugal supper 
 from the pan-bread and bacon that he had put 
 into his pocket in case Blue Joe should have been 
 in need of it. Before he had finished eating, the 
 twilight was faint in the western sky and the 
 stars had begun to show their shining. Night 
 had come. 
 
 Ghost Canyon, like any other place in the wild, 
 was full of night sounds. Never until that night 
 had Gavan realized so acutely the myriad voices 
 of nature. He had known, vaguely, that a forest, 
 a wood, or even a field, is a confused orchestra 
 of music to sharply listening ears, but he had not 
 realized that even so deserted a spot as this rocky 
 canyon would have a vivid life of its own. His 
 ears, made preternaturally acute by anxiety, 
 heard a thousand noises that would have escaped 
 his ears had he been walking or riding. Indeed, 
 many of them, if not most of them, would have 
 been hushed. 
 
 All the wild world hushes itself to stillness when 
 Man walks abroad.
 
 22 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Man may walk through a forest and see nothing 
 of wild life, but, for every hundred steps he takes, 
 there are as many pairs of eyes watching him. 
 Overhead there may be the fierce glare of a bay 
 lynx crouched upon a branch, and by his feet 
 there will be the moveless fear of a rabbit on its 
 form. The bird world is awake to him, from the 
 soaring scrutiny of a hawk to the beady-eyed 
 watchfulness of a mother warbler. The weasel, 
 which fears little, and the shrew, which fears 
 everything, will alike hide or congeal into rigidity 
 as Man passes by. And who shall measure the 
 number of creatures of the insect world that 
 scuttle to their holes in the ground or take 
 shelter behind stone or leaf or twig at the earth- 
 shaking tread of the intruder! For, in the woods, 
 Man is ever and always an intruder. 
 
 Stillness is the animal's chief protection. 
 Well do the woods folk know how extraor- 
 dinarily difficult it is to see forms that are mo- 
 tionless. The old legend of the Gorgon's Head 
 which turned all that looked upon her to stone, 
 is true in Nature wherever Man stirs, save that 
 the spell is broken as soon as he is gone. 
 
 To the woods folk, any place untouched by 
 Man, and, in a lesser degree, every cultivated
 
 Copyright by Alexander Lambert, M.I). 
 
 BOB-CAT IN TREE, WITH MEMBER OF ROOSEVELT PARTY PHOTO- 
 GRAPHING IT. 
 
 Copyright by Alexander Lambert, M.D. 
 
 FIND THE BOB-CAT! 
 
 An excellent test for eyesight. The animal is a trifle below the exact 
 
 middle of the picture. A magni lying-glass will show 
 
 the head and the expression clearly.
 
 GHOST CANYON 23 
 
 field and garden also, is not a silent place, lonely 
 and forsaken. It is a place of tumult, a crowded 
 metropolis, a battle-ground so full of life and 
 competition that only by the hardest kind of work 
 can shelter and food be provided, only by the 
 strictest vigilance can safety be assured. No 
 block in the heart of the busiest city of the world 
 is so full of human life, as any acre of the woods 
 is full of woods life. 
 
 There is more than a mere simile in this. Just 
 as Man, living in the midst of his city, can dis- 
 tinguish, almost without noticing, a thousand dif- 
 ferent sounds, so can the woods folk. The rattle 
 of a cart, the throb of a motor-car, the clank of 
 a street-car gong, the cries of the newsboys, the 
 slamming of doors, the ringing of bells, the clamor 
 of conversation, all these are heard and yet un- 
 heard. But let some one unusual noise mingle 
 with all these, the wail of a fire siren or the roar 
 of an aeroplane, and every ear in the city will 
 pick it out and every man stand to listen. 
 
 So, in the woods, of all the medley of sounds, 
 the ears of the tiniest creature can detect instantly 
 the voices and movements of friend or foe. It 
 is for this reason that the hunters of the wild 
 are silent creatures, possessing either incredible
 
 24 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 skill in stalking or incredible patience in waiting 
 for their prey. One of the most constant 
 mysteries to Man is the movement of heavy 
 animals in the woods. A bear, though weighing 
 six to ten times as much as a man, if he wishes 
 can move so silently that the sharpest human ears 
 cannot hear a sound. More wonderful still, a bull 
 moose, with huge spreading horns, will fade 
 through dense woods like a ghost, although it 
 would seem that his horns would be entangled in 
 overhead branches with every step he takes. 
 
 If, however, a hunter, man or boy, will go into 
 the woods at night, find a comfortable place to sit 
 or lie, where he will not have to move so much as 
 a finger, and wait, he will be rewarded by hearing 
 the faint orchestra of several thousand tiny in- 
 struments commence its nightly concert. An ex- 
 pert naturalist will be able to pick out thirty or 
 forty of such sounds. But, since the human ear 
 is a very clumsy instrument, unable to hear either 
 sounds that are very low or those that are very 
 high, it is well to remember that the little 
 creatures of the wild will not only hear more, but 
 can distinguish the sounds better. There is no 
 silence to sharp ears. Some measure of all this 
 came to Gavan, as he sat in the night, listening.
 
 GHOST CANYON 25 
 
 Yet many more of the woods folk depend less 
 on their ears than on their noses. There are as 
 many scents in the wild as there are noises. 
 Every plant or tree has its own characteristic per- 
 fume, every animal gives forth its own savor. 
 Odors may attract or they may repel. The Man- 
 smell, to the woods folk, always spells danger. 
 
 It is worthy of note that smell is a much more 
 complicated matter than is generally supposed. 
 While, in many cases, what is known as odor con- 
 sists of incredibly small particles or molecules of 
 matter dispersed into the air, and therefore 
 carried as dust might be carried by the wind, 
 yet, in other cases, odors seem to follow the much 
 more complex laws of radiant heat. One may 
 stand to windward of a fire and yet be warm. 
 The heat is therefore radiating against the wind. 
 In similar fashion, a hunter may creep up wind so 
 silently and stealthily that he has not made a 
 sound, and with such care in relation to the direc- 
 tion of the wind that never once has the breeze 
 carried his scent to the object of the chase, and yet, 
 sometimes at great distances, the keen nose of a 
 deer, for example, will scent danger, the sentinel 
 will alarm the herd and all chance of a successful 
 shot is gone.
 
 26 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Old hunters knew this well, and the Indians of 
 the Canadian forests, who lived largely by still- 
 hunting, used to call it the "back smell." Iro- 
 quois hunters used to smear themselves all over 
 with bear grease, so that, in event of the "back 
 scent" reaching the game, the odor would be that 
 of bear, a familiar and friendly odor to those 
 denizens of the woods which they were hunting 
 for game. Though the bear is a carnivorous 
 animal, eating flesh, at times, he is omnivorous. 
 He eats insects as well as a great amount of vege- 
 table food, acorns and wild nuts, to change the diet 
 of mice, ground squirrels and marmots which his 
 great claws enable him to dig out of their bur- 
 rows with great rapidity. Pioneer hunters used 
 to adopt the same method of disguising the man- 
 smell when setting traps. Many old-time trappers 
 used to smear traps, hands and shoes with catnip 
 paste or with a mink scent made up of equal parts 
 of decayed fish oil and honey to which was added 
 one-eighth of the quantity of essence of pepper- 
 mint, or anise. 
 
 The "back scent" is one of the mysteries of 
 nature. Fabre, one of the most careful of all 
 naturalists, found that the odor from a butterfly, 
 so faint that it was absolutely unnoticeable to the
 
 GHOST CANYON 27 
 
 human nose, yet was powerful enough to attract 
 males from a distance of miles away, against the 
 wind. Moreover, though he tried to veil the scent 
 with the most powerful and evil-smelling chemi- 
 cals known to science, the male moths flew straight 
 to the place where their desired mate had rested. 
 No experiment known to science has yet satis- 
 factorily explained these X-rays of smell. 1 
 
 Moreover, many of the creatures of the wild 
 have yet another sense, so strange, so little known 
 to Man, that it has not yet been given a name. 
 For lack of any better word it is sometimes called 
 ''feeling," and consists in the receiving and trans- 
 mitting of wireless means of communication. 
 The extraordinary migration of such widely 
 different creatures as birds and eels are a part of 
 this problem, as is also the "speech" of ants, the 
 homing of bees, or the infection of fear. 
 
 To Gavan, many of these things were vaguely 
 known. He knew the sharpness of the hearing of 
 animals, their keenness of scent, and the unex- 
 plained ability of certain creatures to tell when 
 their enemy, Man, was near. The latter sense, 
 
 i Every boy should have the bookt of J. H. Fabre in his 
 library. This question of "back scent" and the great natural- 
 ist's experiments with regard to it may be found in his "Social 
 Life in the Insect World."
 
 28 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 that of "feel," he was about to know himself. 
 
 The night passed on, with its mountain chill, and 
 Gavan shivered. A slight movement at his feet 
 caught his attention. Duff had waked from sleep. 
 His eyes blinked out of their slumbrous state, 
 then ceased to blink and became attentive. His 
 ears, which had been lying close to his head, com- 
 menced to rise, slowly. Presently they pointed 
 forward with an alert bearing. The dog slightly 
 turned his head to one side, as though to catch 
 sound waves upon two levels. The flaccid legs 
 contracted under him, the muscles of his back 
 quivered. The domestic animal had become a 
 wild animal upon whose quickness of sense life 
 or death might depend. 
 
 And Gavan realized that his shiver had not been 
 born of cold, but of unknown fear. 
 
 Some evil Thing was approaching. 
 
 The boy laid his hand on the dog's collar. The 
 animal was as tense and rigid as though he were 
 built of steel. He made no responsive move to 
 his master's hand. 
 
 Had Duff burst into a paroxysm of barking, the 
 boy would have been less alarmed. But not a 
 sound came from the dog. Only the hair on his 
 neck bristled.
 
 GHOST CANYON 29 
 
 Suddenly, quite suddenly, Gavan became con- 
 scious of the beating of his heart. It sounded 
 loud and fluttering. He swallowed hard, several 
 times. 
 
 He glanced down at Duff. There was foam on 
 the dog's lips, yet he had not made a sound. 
 
 With a strong effort, the boy got a grip on his 
 nerves. He took his rifle in hand. 
 
 Was it imagination, or had the sounds of the 
 night grown still? He listened intently. Yes, 
 the myriad voices were hushed. Something was 
 approaching, something which spoke of menace to 
 the woods folk. 
 
 It was something, therefore, of which the very 
 creatures of the wild themselves were in fear. 
 
 Duff's sudden access of hate and distrust was 
 even more alarming. Something was approach- 
 ing of which a domesticated creature was in fear. 
 
 Was that a movement near the head of the 
 canyon f 
 
 Yes! 
 
 Out of the shadow of the rocks, half upright, 
 running with a curious, leaping gait, came a 
 shaggy gray figure. 
 
 The Wolf -Woman ! 
 
 The creature ran forward a few steps, then
 
 30 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 stopped, sniffed, crouched on the ground and 
 howled, a high dismal howl, half-beast, half- 
 human. 
 
 Duff slunk back, not daring even to growl. 
 
 Many a time had Gavan scoffed at the story of 
 the Wolf -Woman of the Cross-Three Ranch. 
 
 He was not scoffing now. 
 
 Yet the tale was a curious one. This woman, 
 the Mexican wife of a rancher in the neighborhood, 
 had been found, when a girl, lying on the open, a 
 long way from a water-hole, almost dead from 
 thirst and exhaustion. Her shoes were worn 
 through and her clothes in rags. According to 
 her own story, she had been driven away from a 
 Mexican settlement, far to the south, because she 
 had threatened to deliver to justice a man who had 
 killed her brother. 
 
 The girl was pretty and the ranchman married 
 her, not long after. For a year or two all went 
 well. But, a few weeks after her first child was 
 born, it was found dead and half-devoured, half 
 a mile from the ranch-house. There was no sus- 
 picion, then. Two years later, a second child 
 disappeared. The men of the place searched 
 carefully. There was no track of animal to be 
 found near the scene of the tragedy. A year later,
 
 GHOST CANYON 31 
 
 the child of a Mexican living in an adobe hut, 
 several miles away, was spirited away while the 
 parents were working in the fields and the mother 
 declared that she had seen a great gray wolf, run- 
 ning on its hind-legs in human fashion, prowling 
 about the place, several times before. Close 
 watch was kept, for there were other little chil- 
 dren in this adobe home and, one day, a huge gray 
 wolf was seen at twilight and shot through the 
 foreleg. 
 
 The rancher, returning home that night, found 
 his wife with a bullet-wound through her fore-arm, 
 which she ascribed to accidental mishandling of 
 a six-shooter. There was no other evidence. The 
 ranchman said nothing, but from that day on, the 
 woman lived alone in the ranch-house. Not even 
 her husband would speak to her, nor would any 
 man touch the food that she had cooked. 
 
 The most intelligent men of the district scoffed 
 at the story, but they left the woman alone. The 
 sheriff, a highly educated man one of the many 
 adventurous types who have gone west for free- 
 dom of life and the lure of open spaces declined 
 to arrest the woman on suspicion, although admit- 
 ting that less than two and a half centuries ago, 
 werewolves were so common in France that trials
 
 32 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 and convictions were frequent. 1 The laws of New 
 Mexico, the sheriff declared, did not permit of 
 witchcraft trials, nor would he admit that a mere 
 coincidence of circumstantial evidence justified 
 mob action. He kept a would-be lynching crowd 
 in hand. 
 
 But Gavan, listening to that half-beast, half- 
 human howling, felt his doubts strengthen. He 
 knew that a belief in werewolves had existed in 
 every country of the Old World. 
 
 Not running now, but crouching on the ground, 
 the Beast-Figure crept forward. It had not the 
 gait of a wolf, still less had it the movements of a 
 thing human. Evil was surely abnoad. Every 
 sound of the wild was hushed. The dog, rigid as 
 stone, forbore even to snarl. 
 
 The howl, half-beast, half-human, pierced the 
 silence again, and the Thing crept on. It ap- 
 proached close to the grave. 
 
 Gavan 's fingers closed upon his rifle. The dis- 
 tance was short, not more than fifty yards. He 
 could not possibly miss. Yet 
 
 If the Thing were human and not beast, had he 
 the right to shoot? Would it not be murder? 
 
 iThe last was in 1703. The curious part of the werewolf 
 convictions was that most of the accused persons confessed, 
 probably either from insanity or fear.
 
 Courtesy of Mr. Lewis Spence. 
 
 'WARE THE WEREWOLF! 
 
 Illustrating the world-wide superstition of creatures half-wolf, half-man. 
 
 The spirit of the wolf is represented as entering 
 
 the body of the man.
 
 GHOST CANYON 33 
 
 Creeping forward, the Thing laid a paw upon 
 the stones of the grave. 
 
 Duff growled. 
 
 In the sheer silence, the low rumble in the dog's 
 throat sounded like distant tuunder. It startled 
 Gavan, whose nerves were tense almost to snap- 
 ping point, but, at the same time, it gave him 
 courage. That growl, at least, was something 
 normal, something comprehensible. 
 
 The Thing turned its head slowly. 
 
 Shadowed by its pose, below the uppricked ears 
 of a wolf, still could be discerned the flat lines of 
 a human face. The bared teeth were not those 
 of a wolf. 
 
 No, he dared not shoot! 
 
 For some minutes which seemed like hours 
 the Thing stared in the direction of the growling, 
 but Gavan had chosen his place well, and in the 
 deep shadow he could not be seen. 
 
 Then, over and above the low rumble in the 
 dog's throat, there came a faint "click" and 
 Gavan saw one of the stones on the grave move. 
 
 Sudden anger boiled up in the boy and overbore 
 his superstitious terrors. The grave should not 
 be desecrated! 
 
 He stepped boldly into the moonlight, his rifle
 
 34 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 at his shoulder. If the Thing attacked, he could 
 shoot in self-defense. 
 
 But, as he moved, the Beast-Thing whirled away, 
 running like a human being. 
 
 "After it, Duff!" cried Gavan. 
 
 But the dog whimpered and crouched upon the 
 ground. 
 
 G-avan's rifle was at his shoulder, his finger on 
 the trigger, yet the boy dared not shoot. 
 
 In a second the Thing had turned the head of the 
 canyon and disappeared. 
 
 Gavan returned to his post. 
 
 All the night long, almost motionless, he 
 watched, but nothing disturbed the stillness of the 
 canyon. 
 
 At last dawn came, and following it, the sun- 
 light. Stretching himself and with an unbounded 
 satisfaction that the night was over, Gavan walked 
 to the side of the grave and bent down to look at 
 the ground beside it. 
 
 The tracks were those of a wolf, but no wolf ever 
 walked with so heavy a tread !
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 
 
 COURAGE and sunlight go together. There are 
 many people who will yield to their fears when the 
 uncertain glimmer of starlight or moonlight sends 
 shadows to dancing, and yet who will brave with- 
 out a qualm any danger that can actually be seen. 
 
 Had Gavan seen this track during the night, he 
 might have had a bitter fight with panic. In the 
 light of morning, however, his first thought was 
 for action. 
 
 "Ghosts don't leave a trail," he said to himself 
 aloud; "that's sure!" 
 
 He turned sharply to follow up the trail, whis- 
 tling to Duff as he did so. 
 
 The dog whined and refused to follow. 
 
 So Gavan, turning his back on the grave, traced 
 the tracks to the head of the canyon. The more he 
 studied the prints in the dust, the more puzzled 
 he grew. They were wolf tracks, there was not a 
 doubt of that, but no wolf in the world of which 
 
 35
 
 36 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 the boy had ever heard had made tracks which 
 were so large, nor which were so deeply set. Nor 
 was the gait that of a wolf. It was more like that 
 of a bear, walking, as bears do, with the greater 
 part of the weight on the hind feet. 
 
 As old hunters know well, there is a great deal 
 of difficulty in following a wolf slot over a stretch 
 which has also been crossed by dogs. It takes a 
 tracker of the first order to be able to distinguish 
 between the track of a wolf and of some breeds of 
 dog. The wolf track is a trifle narrower in pro- 
 portion to its width, and that is all. Herein 
 Gavan found no trouble. The trail he was follow- 
 ing was unlike that of any wolf or dog whose slot 
 the boy had seen. He tracked the prints out of 
 Ghost Canyon to a stretch of stony soil above Tom 
 Creek on which no foot could leave a mark. 
 
 As it chanced, on all sides of this stony stretch, 
 there was enough soil loosened by ground squir- 
 rels to show a track. Yet not a sign could he see. 
 The wolf-tracks led in, but they did not lead out. 
 
 With threats and coaxing intermingled, Gavan 
 set Duff on the trail, but the hound was equally at 
 fault. From any sign that was left, the Thing 
 must have disappeared into thin air. There were 
 hoof -marks, of course, those of his cousin's pony,
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 37 
 
 those of his own, and, undoubtedly others, but 
 wolf -tracks there were none. The trail was lost. 
 
 Whatever It was, the Thing was gone and day- 
 light was come. The vigil had been long and 
 nerve-racking, but Gavan's heart was high with- 
 in him, for he had dared to spend the night in 
 Ghost Canyon and he had saved the grave from 
 desecration. No full-grown man could have done 
 more. 
 
 He caught his pony, took off the hobbles and 
 loped for the XO ranch, whence word was sent to 
 the sheriff, who also acted as coroner. As for 
 himself, tired out with a long n; : . .'.'a watching, 
 Gavan threw himself down on a bunk in the ranch- 
 house and slept like a bear in winter, until the call 
 for dinner brought him wide awake and hungry. 
 
 At dinner he told the story in all detail to the 
 cattle-punchers on the place and to the sheriff, 
 a quiet, gray-eyed man, quite unlike the supposed 
 sheriff of a "bad man" country, rather resem- 
 bling a business man in an eastern city. But 
 Sheriff Capton had once had a reputation for 
 downing his man. It was not so much that he was 
 phenomenally quick at his gun-play as that he 
 seemed to have a queer intuitive sense of when 
 the man he was after was going to draw his gun.
 
 38 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 4 'Hunch" Capton, they called him in the neighbor- 
 hood, and the Mexicans, especially, gave him a 
 wide berth. To them there was something un- 
 canny in the sheriff's ability to read the thoughts 
 of others. 
 
 Gavan expected that the men would saddle and 
 ride immediately after dinner, but, after cigarettes 
 were rolled and lighted, no one showed any desire 
 to stir. 
 
 "What are we waiting for?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "OP Quick Feather," one of the older men 
 answered. "Hunch, there, thinks the Chief is the 
 only man th.. avvies a trail. ' ' 
 
 "How about McLeodf" suggested Gavan, who 
 had met the government expert. McLeod was one 
 of the trappers employed by the U. S. Biological 
 Survey in its work of controlling predatory ani- 
 mals, and he possessed a great reputation as a 
 trapper. He was given somewhat to tall talk, 
 however, and was often heard to boast that there 
 wasn't an animal alive that he wouldn't track into 
 its den and tackle without any other weapon than 
 a bowie-knife. 
 
 "Hunch ain't really taken all the stock he should 
 in Mac since the six-toed bear deal, ' ' answered the 
 old puncher, who was known simply as "Pinto"
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 39 
 
 because one of his eyes was a little darker in color 
 than the other. 
 
 ' ' Jnst what was that story ? ' ' asked Gavan. * * I 
 heard something about it, but never got the rights 
 of it. Blue Joe didn 't talk much. ' ' 
 
 ' ' No, " agreed the cowboy, ' ' he didn 't. But the 
 story's worth tellin'. It ain't so frequent that a 
 chap sits in to a lone hand, the way Mac did, an' 
 rakes in all the chips on the table in one turn of a 
 card." 
 
 "How was it, Pinto?" asked the boy. 
 
 ' ' This all came off quite a few years ago, when 
 I first struck the range," the cowboy answered. 
 "Mac had a cattle outfit, that time, an' the var- 
 mints used to be a heap more plentiful than they 
 are now. There was one old grizzly that had 
 turned cattle-killer." 
 
 "Won't all grizzlies kill cattle?" asked the boy. 
 
 The other shook his head. 
 
 ' * Mighty few o ' them will, ' ' he answered. * * But 
 when a bear gets that idee in his head, he's 
 like a sheep-killin ' dog, there ain't no way to break 
 him o' the habit. Mac, he was just plumb de- 
 termined to get that bear. 
 
 "Well, one day, ridin' over the range, some o' 
 the boys, Hunch Capton among 'em, found a steer
 
 4 o WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 with Mac's brand which had just been killed 
 recent. It had been rainin' durin' the night an' 
 some o' the boys corralled the idea that when it 
 was dry enough they would put one over on 
 Mac. He used to be shore a heap superstitious, 
 was Mac. He's got more savvy now, since he got 
 to working for the U. S. 
 
 "Waitin' until the ground was plenty dry an' 
 wouldn't show their own tracks, some o' the boys 
 went to work an' made the print of an extra toe 
 beside the other five, wherever a print showed a 
 bit clear, to make it look like it was a track of a 
 six-toed bear, leadin' right to a den not far away. 
 
 "Then they took an old bear-skin an' stuffed it 
 in a Mnd of a fashion, putting it 'way back in the 
 cave. After which, they rode off to Mac to tell 
 him they had tracked the cattle-killin ' grizzly an' 
 this was the time for him to make good his long 
 talk about facin' a grizzly an' to do it pronto.'* 
 
 "So that he would go in and stab a stuffed 
 bear?" the boy grinned. "That would sure put 
 the joke on him!" 
 
 "So Hunch and the rest of the boys figured. 
 Well, Mac came ridin' right over as soon as he 
 heard the news, an' just looked down once at the 
 queer track. Then he refused, point-blank, to
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 41 
 
 follow up the tracks 'til the next day. The boys 
 joked him to a fare-you-well, but Mac stuck out." 
 
 "Why?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "I misremember exactly what reason he trotted 
 out, said he couldn't hunt a six-toed bear on a 
 Friday, or some sech foolish an' superstitious 
 reason he always had a bunch o' superstitions 
 corralled that no one else had ever heard of but 
 he said he was sure willin' to go an' tackle the bear 
 the next day. 
 
 "Well, as you can gamble, that story went all 
 over the range, an' the next day there must have 
 been twenty or more o' the boys come up to see 
 Mac tackle the man-killin' grizzly with a bowie- 
 knife. The boys were just ready to bust with 
 laughin' thinkin' how Mac was going to get the 
 cards stacked on him, but no one cracked a smile. 
 As for Mac, he made out to be quite gratified at 
 seem' such a big turnout for his duel with the bear. 
 
 "The round-up waitin' to see the show trailed 
 along after Mac, who squinted at the ground once 
 in a while as though to assure himself of the track 
 an' by an' by he reached the den. Most o' the 
 boys had a pain in their insides keepin' from 
 laughin' but Mac looked serious. An' the more 
 serious he looked, the more it hurt the rest to keep
 
 42 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 from laughin'. Then, drawin' his knife, Mac 
 crept into the den. 
 
 "For a minute or two every one said nothin'. 
 They were just gettin' ready to send up a geer- 
 oolius hoot when Mac came out after stabbin' the 
 stuffed bear. 
 
 "Then, from inside the cave, they heard a 
 lot of shoutin' an' a big puff of smoke, an', like a 
 train plungin' out of a tunnel, come plungin' a 
 great big bear ! ' ' 
 
 "But I thought the bear was stuffed!" ex- 
 claimed Gavan. 
 
 "That one wasn't stuffed. He didn't run away, 
 either, but made straight for the bunch. They 
 scattered. They knew that the bear they had put 
 in there was stuffed an' there wasn't any one 
 ready to try conclusions with a resurrected stuffed- 
 bear. As for the animile, he acted just like he was 
 locoed, driving right straight through the middle 
 of us an' never lookin' to ttye right or left. 
 
 "Then, out from the cave, comes Mac, smokin' 
 a cigarette an' joshes us all most horrible, about 
 twenty cowboys, each one with a gun on his leg, 
 being scared out o' their wits by a bear. The 
 laugh was on us sure, that time."
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 43 
 
 "But how did Mac do it?" asked Gavan. 
 
 * * I never rightly knew, but I reckon he 'd caught 
 a bear in a trap o' some sort, roped an' tied him 
 an' in some way toted him to the den, settin' him 
 loose when he got in an' lightin' a fire behind him 
 to make him get out o' the cave. He'd smeared 
 a log in the cave with honey in which he mixed 
 loco-weed 1 or some other dope which just made 
 the bear crazy. It wasn't any grizzly, either, just 
 a good-sized black bear, but the rest of us weren't 
 lookin' any too closely. For all I know, it may 
 have been a tame bear. 
 
 * * But it 's a sure thing that Mac had done turned 
 the joke on us, an' Hunch, who doped out the 
 whole deal, hasn't ever felt very happy about Mac 
 ever since. They're good enough friends, all 
 right, but not what you might call pally. That's 
 the only time that I ever heard of any one gettin' 
 the better o' Hunch." 
 
 The sheriff smiled at the recital of the story, 
 but responded only, 
 
 "I'll bet on Quick Feather following up the 
 
 i A wee* 1 growing on the prairies which, when cattle or 
 horses eat it, sends them mad. Many a square mile of rich 
 pasture in the West haa to be abandoned by reason of the preva- 
 lence of loco-weed.
 
 44 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Wolf -Woman trail if any one can. And here he 
 comes now," he added, as the figure of a distant 
 rider appeared in the distance. 
 
 The other men yawned, stretched and went to 
 the corral for their horses. 
 
 "How, Quick Feather!" said the sheriff. 
 
 "How!" the Indian answered. 
 
 "Gray Johnny tell you about the tracks of the 
 Wolf -Woman?" 
 
 The Indian nodded. 
 
 "He tell me," he answered. 
 
 "Well, we'll start right off." 
 
 "Good," was Quick Feather's laconic reply. 
 
 There were seven in the party that rode back to 
 Ghost Canyon, "Hunch" Capton, the sheriff; 
 Quick Feather, "Pinto Joe," "Thin-lip" Jack, 
 the ranch boss, two other riders of the ranch 
 and Gavan. In a way, the boy felt himself to be 
 under watch, for the sheriff would have been justi- 
 fied in arresting the lad as the only person present 
 when Blue Joe Keary had met death by violence, 
 but no one suspected Gavan. 
 
 The grave in the canyon was still undisturbed, 
 as it had been in the morning. The Sheriff and 
 Quick Feather went forward together to scan the 
 ground carefully for tracks. This done, the stones
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 45 
 
 were removed and the sheriff examined the body 
 carefully. 
 
 A very brief examination sufficed. It was clear 
 that the wounds which had killed the man had been 
 received from the mountain lion's claws, and that 
 the burst gun had been a principal cause. 
 
 "All straight goin','' said the sheriff, straight- 
 ening up from his stooping position. "Death by 
 accident; we'll take him to town an' bury him 
 right. The padre will fix it up-." 
 
 Taos, a Mexican town close to the famous 
 Indian pueblo, is an old settlement, and, though 
 small, is well provided with the resources of the 
 old Spanish civilization. 
 
 This point decided, and Gavan thus officially re- 
 leased from any possibility of accusation, the 
 interest of the party centered on the apparition or 
 the Thing which Gavan had seen the previous 
 night. The boy repeated the story for the third 
 time, pointing out where he sat in the shadow 
 watching during the night, from which direction 
 he had seen the Thing advance, and describing, 
 with all the exactitude of detail that he could 
 summon up, the appearance and motions of the 
 object of suspicion. 
 
 When he had finished there was a dead silence,
 
 46 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 which one of the younger cowboys was the first 
 to break. 
 
 11 Guess you must ha' been sleepin'," he said, 
 "an' when a lobo came aroun' you thought it was 
 some thin' else in the moonlight. The tracks is 
 sure those of a wolf." 
 
 The sheriff looked thoughtfully at the young 
 puncher. 
 
 "Might be," he agreed noncommittally. 
 
 But the ranch boss thought otherwise. 
 
 "I notice," said Thin-lip Jack, caustically, 
 "that a youngster always wants to explain every- 
 thing he sees. A young coyote thinks he has a lot 
 o' savvy an' gets plumb confident. He'll put his 
 foot in a trap as often as not. But you note a coy- 
 ote that's reached years o' discretion, say, three 
 years an' better, an' even if there ain't no reason 
 to be suspicious he '11 hang around a bait for three 
 days before he goes near it. He's old enough to 
 know that he hasn't got as much savvy as he once 
 thought he had." 
 
 "Well, what do you think about the deal your- 
 self?" retorted the other. 
 
 "I'm goin' to set in an' look on a while," the 
 ranch boss answered; "so far, I don't know the 
 game well enough to buy chips. ' '
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 47 
 
 The sheriff turned to the Indian. 
 
 "What do you say, Quick Feather?" he asked. 
 
 The Indian stooped down and examined the 
 tracks carefully, followed two or three of them, 
 and then came back to the group. 
 
 "Not wolf!" he answered simply. 
 
 " Sure o' that!' 
 
 "Not wolf!" the Indian repeated. 
 
 "What is it then, Quick Feather!" Pinto asked. 
 
 "Not wolf," was the reply, given a third time. 
 
 "You don't believe that Wolf -Woman story, 
 do you!" the young cattle-puncher asked, mock- 
 ingly. 
 
 The Indian looked at him gravely and made no 
 reply. 
 
 "You've heard the story, haven't you, Quick 
 Feather?" the sheriff asked, though he was cer- 
 tain the Indian would know% for it was universally 
 known in that section. 
 
 "I have heard," answered Quick Feather. 
 
 "Do you think it could be true?" 
 
 "Huh ! Does any man know all the trails of the 
 world?" 
 
 "No," the sheriff agreed, "but a new trail does 
 not come in a day, Quick Feather. How could a 
 woman be a wolf or a wolf a woman?"
 
 48 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Does any man know all the trails of the 
 world!" repeated the Indian, with that repetition 
 of phrase which so many of his white friends 
 found so exasperating. 
 
 The sheriff changed his question. 
 
 "Have you ever heard of such a thing before?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "I have heard." 
 
 "One of the old tales of the pueblo?" 
 
 "A medicine tale." 
 
 "Is it only for the estufa?" l asked the sheriff, 
 who had lived a long time in the country and knew 
 the ways of the Pueblo Indians, " or is it one which 
 maybe told?" 
 
 "It may be told." 
 
 The sheriff took out his bag of tobacco and 
 rolled himself a cigarette. The others followed his 
 example, and waited. One c'r^rette had been 
 smoked out and others lighted before Quick 
 Feather began to speak. He spoke slowly, in good 
 English, but with the strained phrases of the 
 Indian who has only learned the white language 
 in his old age. 
 
 "Many winters ago," he began, "before the 
 
 i The estufa ( in some groups known as the kiva ) is a cir- 
 cular chamber in the pueblo kept sacred for tribal ceremonial.
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 49 
 
 White Rabbit (the sun) had grown as big as he is 
 now and burned up the land with his magic, the 
 animals were more like men. They had councils 
 and were able to talk. There are some who 
 think that they have not quite forgotten." 
 
 The youngest cow-puncher gave a foolish little 
 laugh. 
 
 Quick Feather slowly turned his eyes on him. 
 
 "The jack-rabbit once laughed at the coyote 
 because he could not run fast a long time without 
 getting tired. So the coyote spoke to another 
 coyote, and one chased the rabbit while the other 
 rested, and when the second one was tired, the first 
 took up the chase. The coyotes ate well that night 
 and the end of that rabbit was as that of those who 
 are too young to have beliefs." 
 
 The cowboy looked uncomfortable, and there- 
 after forbore to interrupt. 
 
 "It was in the times when animals were able to 
 talk," the Indian continued, impassively, " that 
 there dwelt in a wickiup * a family wherein there 
 were nine children, seven boys and two girls. One 
 girl, she that was called Bearskin- Woman, was tall 
 and wore red berries in her hair and there were 
 
 i Naturally, a pueblo Indiaa would ascribe this tale to one 
 of the roving tribes.
 
 50 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 those who said that she made medicine-sticks in 
 secret, 
 
 1 'In the year-time when the cactus is in blossom, 
 the six older brothers of Bearskin-Woman went 
 away on the war-path with the Badger people, and, 
 while they were away, the One with Claws on his 
 Hands, the Grizzly Bear, came walking to the 
 wickiup. 
 
 "There was rich store of venison in the cave 
 of the Grizzly Bear, for no hunter's arrow was so 
 sure in the chase as the stroke of one of those 
 clawed hands. 
 
 "There was a store of skins in the cave of 
 Grizzly Bear, though there was none to tan them 
 soft and white as can be done by the hands of a 
 woman. 
 
 "There was protection in the cave of Grizzly 
 Bear, because of the strength of the One with 
 Claws on his Hands. He felt that, when wedded 
 to the wit of a woman who made medicine-sticks 
 in secret his power would be greater than the 
 tribesmen could overcome. 
 
 * ' So, though the father refused his blessing and 
 the mother painted her face white for evil token 
 on the wedding day, Bearskin-Woman married 
 Grizzly Bear while her brothers were away.
 
 Courtesy of " Field and Stream." 
 
 COLONEL ROOSEVELT KILLING A GRIZZLY. 
 
 An incident in the hunting life of the greatest American of the 
 Twentieth Century.
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 51 
 
 "When two moons had become thin and died 
 of hunger, the brothers returned. Their father 
 laid upon them the command to kill Grizzly Bear 
 and bring their sister back, for it was not pleas- 
 ing to the gods that a Bear and a woman should 
 marry. So the brothers watched for Grizzly Bear 
 and when he was more than an arrow-shot away 
 from the cave they pierced him with many arrows. 
 Yet, in spite of all their arrows, Grizzly Bear 
 crawled back to his cave. There, before he died, 
 Bearskin-Woman stooped down and placing her 
 mouth near that of the dying Grizzly Bear, she 
 breathed in his spirit as it left the body. 
 
 "Thus Bearskin-Woman became Grizzly- Wo- 
 man in spirit. Then, before the warmth had left 
 the body and the great muscles had ceased to quiv- 
 er, Grizzly-Woman took a piece of skin of her dead 
 mate and made an amulet. In it she kept her 
 medicine-sticks. Thus, with the spirit of the 
 grizzly and the secret of the body of the Grizzly, 
 she could change into a Grizzly or a Woman when- 
 ever she willed the change. Nor could her 
 brothers kill her, for by making medicine she knew 
 whenever they were near and they feared the 
 gods who had given such great strength to Grizzly- 
 Woman.
 
 52 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Then, one day, making medicine, Grizzly- 
 Woman learned that her father and mother had 
 made plans to kill her. Since they had given her 
 life, they had the right to take it away again, 
 which the brothers might not do. Grizzly- Woman 
 knew her danger, so, one night, she dashed into 
 the wickiup and killed her father and her mother 
 in revenge for their plotting against her. Then 
 she changed back again into the form of a woman, 
 and, seizing her youngest brother, Okinai, and his 
 sister Sinopah, went back to her cave, taking the 
 children with her, determining that they should 
 live with her. She thought, by her medicine, to 
 make them Grizzly-Boy and Grizzly-Girl, but she 
 was afraid to give them too strong 'medicine at 
 first, for the children were too young to take a full 
 dose, and, being afraid of their Grizzly-Woman 
 sister, every time that they could, they did their 
 best to get rid of the bad medicine. 
 
 "The six brothers were in great trouble when 
 they found that the children were gone and they 
 did everything they could think of to bring them 
 back. They asked Turkey Buzzard, who sees 
 everything, and he told them to go and see the 
 ever-hungry, Clever Coyote.
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 53 
 
 "So the brothers went to Clever Coyote and he 
 told them what lo do. The six brothers returned 
 and waiting secretly until Okinai went to the river 
 for water, they told the boy to gather the leaves of 
 the prickly-pear cactus and to spread them on the 
 ground outside the cave, but to leave a narrow 
 twisting path through the spiny leaves which only 
 he would know, but which could not be seen. 
 Then, in the dark of the night, his sister Sinopah 
 holding tightly to his waist-cloth, and treading in 
 his footsteps, he should escape from the cave by 
 the little path among the spiny cactus leaves. 
 
 "By her medicine, Grizzly- Woman would know 
 at once that they were gone, even tbough she were 
 asleep, and she would undoubtedly rush out after 
 them and try to seize them. But, Clever Coyote 
 said, she would step on the prickly pear and the 
 cactus-spines would go into her feet so that she 
 would not be able to run fast. 
 
 "Even as Clever Coyote had suggested, so it 
 came about. But Okinai decided that before he 
 left the cave, he would seize the Grizzly- Woman 's 
 medicine-bag. When it was just the middle of the 
 night, Okinai snatched up the bag and left the 
 cave, Sinopah holding fast to his waist-cloth, and
 
 54 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 the two passed swiftly down the little twisty path 
 between the prickly-pear leaves scattered on the 
 ground. 
 
 " Grizzly- Woman woke at once, and knew by 
 her medicine that the children had escaped. She 
 knew, too, that her medicine-bag was gone. It 
 was important, therefore, to catch the children at 
 once, and not wait until morning. So she rushed 
 out over the prickly-pear leaves, and the spines 
 entered her feet and hurt horribly. But she 
 rushed on, just the same though not as fast. The 
 children reached their brothers and all eight ran 
 rapidly, but, in spite of the pains in her feet, 
 Grizzly- Woman was overtaking them. 
 
 "Then, suddenly, in the path Clever Coyote 
 appeared, hungry as ever. 
 
 " 'Shoot the arrow in the medicine-bag!' he 
 said to Okinai. 
 
 " 'Where shall I shoot ?' asked the boy. 
 
 " 'Shoot ahead of you, ' answered Clever Coyote. 
 
 "So Okinai took a bow from one of his brothers, 
 picked out the medicine arrow from the bag and 
 shot it ahead of him. And, whisk ! the moment the 
 arrow fell, Okinai, Sinopah, and the six brothers 
 were at the same place as the arrow. 
 
 "Again Grizzly-Woman commenced to over-
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 55 
 
 take the children and again Okinai shot the arrow. 
 
 "A third time he did this, and then Clever Coy- 
 ote who had been running easily beside the children 
 in spite of the flight of the magic arrow, said, 
 
 " 'Do not shoot again. If you shoot more than 
 three times, you will go backward as far as the 
 arrow goes forward.' 
 
 " 'What shall I do now?' asked Okinai. 
 
 " 'You will find a feather in the medicine-bag/ 
 said Clever Coyote, 'take it out and wave it behind 
 you.' 
 
 "So Okinai took out the magic feather and 
 waved it behind him, and a dense thicket of chap- 
 arral sprang up between the two children and 
 the six brothers. But Grizzly-Woman plunged 
 through, her great weight forcing down the bushes 
 as though they were grass, and again she gained 
 on the children. 
 
 " 'Grizzly-Woman is very near!' said Okinai, 
 when he saw that the chaparral was passed. 
 
 " 'There is a medicine-stick in the bag,' said 
 Clever Coyote, 'put your tongue to it and then spit 
 behind you.' 
 
 "So Okinai put his tongue to the medicine-stick 
 and spat, and there was a great lake with Grizzly- 
 Woman on the farther shore.
 
 56 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "But Grizzly- Woman changed her fur to a white 
 color and plunged into the water, swimming very 
 fast, so that very soon she had crossed. 
 
 " 'Grizzly-Woman is very near,' said Okinai. 
 
 " 'There is a nut in the medicine-bag,' said 
 Clever Coyote. 'Quickly make a small hole in the 
 ground with the medicine-stick and put the nut in 
 it. While the tree grows, cut off a piece of your 
 hair, of Sinopah's hair, and of each of your 
 brother's.' 
 
 "So Okinai took the medicine-stick and made a 
 small hole in the ground. He put the nut in it and 
 at once there was a great tree with heavy branches. 
 It grew fast, but not so fast that it was heavy 
 enough for the oldest brothers. While the tree 
 was still small, Sinopah, the lightest, began to 
 climb, then Okinai climbed, then the two youngest 
 of the brothers, but before the tree was big enough 
 for the four oldest brothers, Grizzly- Woman had 
 reached the tree and she reached up and pulled 
 down the four older brothers with her claws. 
 
 "Said Clever Coyote, 
 
 " 'Rub the hair that you took from Sinopah's 
 head with the medicine-stick, and it will turn into 
 an arrow.' 
 
 "So Okinai did as Clever Coyote had said.
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 57 
 
 " 'Now,' said Clever Coyote, 'shoot that arrow 
 at the sky.' 
 
 "So Okinai lifted up the bow and put to the 
 string the arrow that had been made of the little 
 girl's hair and shot. And, as the hair went flying 
 into the sky, Sinopah flew into the sky after it. 
 
 "He did the same with the hair of each of his 
 brothers. The youngest, being heavier, did not 
 go so high as Sinopah, the next oldest, heavier 
 still, was lower still, and the four big brothers 
 who had been clawed by Grizzly-Woman only went 
 a little way. 
 
 " 'Now,' said Clever Coyote, 'wrap your own 
 hair around the medicine-stick and shoot that into 
 the sky.' 
 
 ' ' So Okinai<shot, and, as the medicine-stick sped 
 high into the sky he followed it, up, up and up, 
 until he stopped in the exact middle of the sky. 
 And, because he held the medicine-stick, he became 
 the center of the stars, and all the stars danced 
 round him. But Grizzly-Woman could not fly 
 after them, for she did not have her medicine-bag. 
 Still because Sinopah and Okinai had taken some 
 of the Bear medicine the eight children took the 
 form of a Bear in the sky. The two oldest of the 
 brothers (the outer stars of The Dipper or Great
 
 58 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Bear) point to where Okinai lives, in the middle 
 of the sky, with the medicine-stick, and the rest of 
 the family swings around him. The medicine- 
 stick, like an arrow with a big head (the Little 
 Bear), Okinai still holds in his hand. 
 
 "So," concluded the Indian, "if you ask 
 whether there have been those who were men and 
 animals besides, I will say that there are tales of 
 such." 
 
 "Tales, yes," said one of the men 'contempt- 
 uously, "but how about the real thing?" 
 
 "Down in Texas, where I came from," stated 
 the ranch boss, * ' there 's an Indian tribe, the Ton- 
 kawa, who, one time, used to be cannibals, so the 
 wise ones say. They had a sort o' secret an' 
 fraternal society o' wolf -men, who togged them- 
 selves out in wolf-skins an ' took wolf 's vittles for 
 their regular chuck. When one o' the wolf -men 
 died, the rest o' the bunch used to pick out some 
 man in the tribe I don 't know how they chose him 
 bury him in the ground for a whole day, leavin ' 
 only a hole through a straw for him to breathe. 
 Then the wolf -men dug him up, put a wolf-skin on 
 him, an' pursuin' that time, as you might say, 
 he doesn't have to work none for the tribe. Now, 
 the way it looks to me, an Indian doesn't do a
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 59 
 
 thing for nothin'. He wouldn't go to imitate a 
 wolf-man if there hadn't ever been any. That 
 looks to me as if there might be somethin' to it." 
 
 "Well," retorted Hunch Capton, "I don't pre- 
 tend to know what all those stories are worth. 
 Bein' sheriff, I'm a whole lot quicker on a fact 
 than a yarn. As for these here tracks, if Quick 
 Feather says they aren't those of a wolf, so far 
 as I'm in the deal, that goes. However, that's 
 no special business o' mine. Blue Joe Keary was 
 killed by a mountain lion, an' the bu'stin' o' his 
 gun is responsible. That goes as she lays. Any 
 one who wants to, can follow up the Wolf -Woman 
 story. I've somethin' else to think of. 
 
 "There's one thing, though," the sheriff con- 
 tinued, "an' that's about the kid. Before I go 
 back, I'd like to savvy what's goin' to come to 
 him." 
 
 "He's got a job on the XO Ranch, any time he 
 likes to come around," the ranch boss replied, 
 promptly; "he can help around with the chuck, 
 now, an' maybe ride fence next year, when he 
 gets a trifle bigger." 
 
 Gavan flashed a look of gratitude at the ranch 
 boss. 
 
 "That would be fine, Jack," he said, "but" .
 
 60 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I'd rather wait until I can ride the range." 
 
 "Knockin' about with the cook wouldn't siut 
 you, eh?" queried the other. 
 
 1 ' It isn 't only that, ' ' answered the boy, anxious 
 to dispel the impression that he was afraid to 
 work, "but Blue Joe had a bunch of cattle. It's 
 not such a big bunch, but I'd like to keep it going, 
 if I could." 
 
 "Maybe," answered the ranch boss, "but the 
 cattle business isn't any lie-down-and-let-me- 
 dream game nowadays, especially with a few head. 
 I'm willin' to bet that Blue Joe made more out of 
 his gun an' his traps than he ever did out of his 
 cattle." 
 
 "I believe he did," the boy agreed, "but I used 
 to help him with those, too." 
 
 "You mean that you want to play the hand 
 alone?" 
 
 "If I can, Jack, sure!" declared Gavan ear- 
 nestly, looking frankly into the stern face of the 
 ranch boss. 
 
 "Live alone, cook your own chuck, an' swing 
 the deal without even a partner ? ' ' 
 
 "Why not?"
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 61 
 
 "An' no white man within ten miles o' the 
 place?" 
 
 1 'I've never had any trouble with the Mexi- 
 cans," the lad answered, "and I wouldn't really 
 be alone. Quick Feather lives at the pueblo, of 
 course, but he's got land only a mile and a half 
 away and comes over often. I wouldn't be lonely, 
 Jack, really. ' ' 
 
 The ranch boss looked at the sheriff. 
 
 "What do you think o' that, Hunch?" he 
 queried. 
 
 Hunch Capton looked thoughtfully first at the 
 boy, then at the ranch boss, and finally at the old 
 Indian. 
 
 "I'd like to speak to you a minute," he said to 
 Thin-lip Jack. 
 
 The two men walked aside a few steps. 
 
 "You know, Jack," began the sheriff, "in a way, 
 the boy's right. If he stays on the ranch, he's 
 got some thin'; if he doesn't, he has nothin'. He 
 might have trouble provin' his title to the land if 
 he tried to sell it, or if any of us tried to sell it for 
 him, because Blue Joe didn't leave a will, and a 
 cousin isn 't likely to be the next o ' kin. ' ' 
 
 The ranch boss nodded his understanding.
 
 62 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Same way with the stock," the sheriff con- 
 tinued. "Who really owns that stock? It's a 
 puzzle. While if the lad stays on the ranch an' 
 keeps it goin', no one's likely to challenge his 
 right. No stranger could jump it. No one could 
 buy it an' get a clear title with the boy in occupa- 
 tion. An' if he stays on it an' works it for ten 
 years, he'll have squatters' right of his own, re- 
 gardless o' Blue Joe's leavin's." 
 
 "That's a pat hand," the ranch boss agreed. 
 
 "Then there's the line o' traps, too. You know 
 the rule. As long as he keeps the line up, it's 
 his line. If he lets it go, some one else can jump 
 in." 
 
 "Clear enough," agreed the other, "an' I can 
 see where you're headin'. But the kid's so tarna- 
 tion young to be buckin' the world. He ain't 
 much more'n a yearlin', when you come to look at 
 it. I ain't what you'd call tender-hearted, Hunch, 
 but I hate to saddle an' bridle a colt that ain't 
 come to his full strength yet." 
 
 "You're dead right, Jack," the sheriff agreed, 
 "he's just a youngster, that's sure. But that's 
 a fault he'll grow out of in a hurry. Besides, he's 
 a western-raised boy, leastways, he's been west- 
 ern-raised with Blue Joe for a good many years
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 63 
 
 now. I miss my guess if he hasn't done just about 
 as much for Blue Joe as Blue Joe ever did for him. 
 Keary wasn't a lily-handed nurse, I reckon." 
 
 But the ranch boss, though popular opinion 
 would have named him as the one man in the com- 
 munity least likely to concern himself in a senti- 
 mental matter, was far from satisfied. 
 
 "You may be callin' the turn, Hunch," he said, 
 "but it doesn't hit me right, yet. A steer can't 
 hook till his horns are grown, an' there's always 
 varmints after a herd. A youngster only fourteen 
 years old ain't fit to be the boss of his own doin's. 
 Suppose one o' those tricky half-breed lawyers 
 should get hold o' the business? He'd skin the 
 kid out o' land, stock, an' everything else so quick 
 he 'd never know what happened. ' * 
 
 The sheriff looked appreciatively at the ranch 
 boss. 
 
 "By the ears of a rattler, old sport," he ex- 
 claimed, "you're on the dot, there. I'd never 
 thought of that. And the lad's a minor, too." 
 
 He pondered for a minute or two. 
 
 "See here, Jack," he said at last, "suppose you, 
 I, an' Quick Feather should go to old Judge 
 Adams an' locate ourselves as guardians or 
 trustees or somethin' for the kid until he comes
 
 64 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 of age or until we reckon he's old enough to be 
 able to take care of himself! Then we can stake 
 him to whatever he needs, handle the sellin' of his 
 cattle for him, send some o' the boys to help him 
 with his round-up, give him a job whenever there's 
 a chance around, an' then, when he's old enough, 
 he '11 have a little stake of his own, in case he wants 
 to break into some other line o ' work later. ' ' 
 
 "Now you're talkin'," said the ranch boss; 
 "I'll sit in on that hand. But why do you pick 
 Quick Feather? Oughtn't we to have another 
 white man I ' ' 
 
 "Quick Feather's as white a man as they come," 
 the sheriff retorted, * * even if he is an Indian. But 
 I'll tell you why I thought of him. You won't 
 make any bones about my sayin' that you're not 
 the timber out o ' which fathers are made ! ' ' 
 
 The ranch boss gave a short laugh. He was 
 known to be one of the most violent-tempered men 
 in the region, though generous and kindly at 
 bottom. 
 
 "Well," he agreed, "maybe I'm not. I don't 
 know as I've ever aimed to be." 
 
 "Nor am I," answered the sheriff. "Besides 
 which, I'm too busy, an' for another thing, I'm 
 not what you might call a good risk. Of course,
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 65 
 
 bein' sheriff nowadays is a whole lot easier than 
 it was in the old days. It 's only in the movies that 
 a western sheriff has to go shootin' desperadoes 
 every mornin' before breakfast. I'll bet there's 
 more shootin' in New York City in a month, than 
 there is in the whole of the Southwestern States in 
 ten years. But at that, there's a few folks that 
 have the sights on their six-shooters filed close, 
 layin' for me. I mean cattle rustlers an' the 
 like. Some one may get me some time. That's 
 the chance a man takes in my job." 
 
 ''Unless you see 'em first," Thin-lip Jack re- 
 turned. 
 
 "Which I generally aim to do," the sheriff ad- 
 mitted quietly. "But good luck won't pan out 
 forever. So, Jack, if I'm carried out feet first 
 with my boots on, some day, the other two trustees 
 will have to choose a third. We can't tell, now, 
 either of us, who that might be. 
 
 "Now Quick Feather, though he's an Indian or 
 because he's an Indian, if you like is real fa- 
 therly, or maybe grandf atherly. You know, jest as 
 well as I do, that when it comes to family feelin' 
 an' family trainin', the Indian has it all over the 
 white man, every time. An ', what 's more, so far 
 as I can make out, Quick Feather's been the boy's
 
 66 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 best friend this long while. To back up all that, 
 he's the kid's nearest neighbor, except for a bunch 
 of Mexicans." 
 
 "Quick Feather may be ace-high for all I know, 
 Hunch," the ranch boss declared, "I don't savvy 
 Indians much. If he looks good to you, I'm not 
 going to queer the deal. Let's put it up to him." 
 
 The two self-elected trustees then joined Quick 
 Feather, and the sheriff explained the plan in 
 detail. When they had finished the Indian 
 nodded. 
 
 "I watch him like a boy of my pueblo," he 
 declared. 
 
 "That's enough," said the sheriff, confidently. 
 
 He turned to the ranch boss. 
 
 "It's like pullin' teeth to make an Indian say 
 anything," he said, "but, in a case like this, when 
 he does promise, it's as good as done. You can 
 go back to the XO, feelin' easy, old sport; the 
 boy '11 be in good hands." 
 
 The three men turned to where Gavan was 
 standing. 
 
 "See here, lad," the sheriff said, "weVe been 
 talkin' over your future," and he outlined in detail 
 the plan of the three trustees. "In undertaking 
 to play the hand alone, you're layin' oat for your-
 
 THE GRIZZLY-WOMAN 67 
 
 self a long road, full o' hard work, a trail that 
 you'll have to blaze an' travel for yourself. But 
 we're with you, remember that. And, while it's 
 a long, hard trail, it's the straight trail to inde- 
 pendence, an' that's a Western boy's line of 
 travel, every time ! ' '
 
 CHAPTER in 
 
 DOWNING A SELFISH GREASEB 
 
 GAVAN'S life, after the death of his cousin, 
 proved to be by no means as lonely as the sheriff 
 had feared. Blue Joe Keary had never been talk- 
 ative, and, aside from the fact that he was alone, 
 the boy found little difference in conditions at the 
 cabin after he took on himself the sole manage- 
 ment of the affairs of the little ranch. 
 
 The boy's first big surprise came a week or 
 two later when the ranch boss rode over with two 
 Airedales in leash. He pulled up at the cabin, 
 threw the reins over his horse's head and dis- 
 mounted stiffly. 'Then, slouching over with the 
 bow-legged walk characteristic of those who have 
 spent most of their life in stiff leather chap- 
 parejos, he thrust the ends of the leashes into the 
 lad's hand. 
 
 "Here," he said roughly, "I've brought a 
 couple of pards along for you. Train 'em right 
 an' they'll tackle anything that moves in the 
 woods." 
 
 "You mean they're for me!" exclaimed Gavan, 
 
 68
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 69 
 
 scarcely daring to believe that the dogs could 
 really be for him. He had pined for Airedales 
 ever since he was old enough to know their value. 
 
 " They 're your'n, hide, hair, an' hoof," the 
 ranch boss returned. "An' you'll soon find out 
 that you've got two friends there that'll never go 
 back on you." 
 
 "I've got others that I know won't go back on 
 me," returned the boy, looking gratefully at the 
 ranch boss. 
 
 "Well, what do you think!" growled the old 
 westerner. "You ain't got much savvy if you ex- 
 pect folks to turn you down, all the while. Now, 
 give me the straight of it about your cattle. 
 How many head have you got?" 
 
 "All told, I've got forty-eight head," the boy 
 answered. "I ought to have more, but I've lost 
 a lot of calves." 
 
 "Wolves?" queried the ranch boss, frowning. 
 "We've been losin' heavily, too." 
 
 ' * Coyotes and bear, ' ' Gavan answered ; " at least 
 I ran across the carcase of a yearling that had 
 been all chewed up by a bear." 
 
 "An' how's the range?" came the next query. 
 
 "None too good," the boy responded. "It was 
 all right last year, but it 's been so dry this spring
 
 70 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 that the feed is scant. The cattle are bone-thin. ' ' 
 
 "There's a-plenty of feed in the meadow parks 
 'way up near timber line," remarked the ranch 
 boss. 
 
 "Like enough," agreed the boy, "but I don't 
 own any land up there. You don't suppose I 
 could afford to lease any, do you?" 
 
 "No need," answered the ranch boss. "My 
 place is over a hundred thousand acres an' I'm 
 not runnin' more than three thousand head on it 
 this year. Your little bunch wouldn 't be noticed. 
 Are your beasts all branded!" 
 
 "Sure!" declared the boy. "Blue Joe and I 
 did that last spring." 
 
 "All right," said the ranch boss, turning away 
 and going towards his pony. "Any time you feel 
 like it, drive your bunch up Pot Creek. There's 
 a plenty bear up there, but I reckon you won't 
 lose any more beasts on the mountains than you 
 will down here in the foot-hills among the 
 coyotes." 
 
 "But I can't do 'that without paying you," 
 protested the boy; "it wouldn't be square!" 
 
 "Square nothin'," the ranch boss answered, 
 swinging heavily into the saddle. "You keep 
 your line o ' coyote traps goin ' an ' that '11 help the
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 71 
 
 ranch enough to more'n pay for the grass that 
 little bunch o' yours '11 eat. 
 
 * * Oh, and by the way, ' ' he continued, * * this place 
 o' yours, lyin', like it does, along close by the 
 Little Rio Grande, could be made to raise alfalfa, 
 eh?" 
 
 "It sure could," the boy agreed, "if the land 
 were worked up and I could get water up here." 
 
 The ranch boss swung one leg over the horn 
 of his saddle and turned to face the boy. 
 
 "An' why in tarnation can't ye have water?" 
 he said. "There's a toad's plenty o' water in 
 the river." 
 
 "Mexicans," answered the boy, simply. "Blue 
 Joe was talkin' about that one day. He started 
 to dig an irrigation ditch, up-stream, an' the 
 Greasers promptly told him they had all the water 
 rights along the river." 
 
 The eyes of the ranch boss narrowed. 
 
 "They did, eh?" he said, grimly. "Well, you 
 go ahead with that ditch, an' if any Greaser says 
 anything, tell 'em they've got the XO Ranch to 
 deal with first an' the sheriff afterwards." 
 
 "But if they have the right?" queried Gavan 
 protestingly. "I don't want to butt in on an- 
 other chap's rights."
 
 72 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "They've got water rights, sure enough," the 
 ranch boss agreed, "an' they've got 'em before 
 you. No one's a-goin' to deny that. But water 
 rights are for usin', not for wastin'. There's 
 water enough in the Little Rio Grande to irri- 
 gate ten times the land that's irrigated now, if 
 it was properly used. There ain't no court that's 
 goin ' to allow that a Greaser has the right to waste 
 water an' prevent a white man from usin' it. 
 Leastways, there ain 't no New Mexico court that 's 
 a-goin' to do it. Special," he added, "when the 
 XO an' the sheriff's back of you." 
 
 The boy looked dubious. 
 
 "I'd hate to get the Mexicans down on me," he 
 said. "I'm pretty good friends with them now, 
 and they could make it mighty unpleasant." 
 
 The ranch boss ran his hand over his stubbly 
 chin. 
 
 "Maybe you're right," he said. "Don't cross 
 'em none. But go ahead with the ditch just the 
 same, an' if they make a fuss, say that I'm payin' 
 you to do it. I'll guarantee to buy all the alfalfa 
 hay you can raise at the market price." 
 
 "But the plowing!" asked the boy. "I 
 haven't a team or farm machinery or anything." 
 
 "Hire it done," said the ranch boss. "Get the
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 73 
 
 Indians to do it for you. Quick Feather will 
 make the contract. Don't you do it, or you'll get 
 in wrong. It takes an Indian to handle an Indian. 
 Then, when the work's done, send the bill to me." 
 
 "But ," the boy began, but the ranch boss 
 cut him off. 
 
 "I ain't aimin' to give you charity," he said, 
 surmising what was coming. "I'll charge that 
 bill against your hay in the fall. An' that's all 
 there is to it." 
 
 He swung his leg back into the stirrup and 
 touched the spurs to his sturdy cow-pony. 
 
 "Bring up them dogs right," he concluded, as 
 he jogged off, "an' you'll have friends enough 
 'round the place." 
 
 Gavan began to voice his thanks, but the rider 
 loped off out of hearing. 
 
 When the ranch boss had gone, the boy began to 
 think over what had happened. He saw at once 
 that the backing of the all-powerful XO ranch 
 meant everything to him. His small bunch of 
 cattle would get the best of the range, at practi- 
 cally no expense to him, and, for that matter, at no 
 expense to the ranch. His own little place would 
 be worth a great deal more, if put into cultiva- 
 tion, and, as long as the XO intended to winter
 
 74 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 a large bunch of cattle, there would always be a 
 local market for his hay. Better still, if he could 
 run the irrigating ditch from the river, a large 
 part of his holding, which had been absolutely 
 worthless before, might become of value. There 
 remained only the question of the opposition of 
 the Mexicans, and he knew that they were ex- 
 tremely jealous of their water rights. 
 
 Realizing that the ditch was the most important 
 thing to begin with, Gavan rounded up his cattle 
 on his little cow-pony, taking the advantage to 
 give the Airedale pups some idea of what they 
 might run and might not. Duff, the nondescript 
 hound, while duly respectful of the better-bred 
 dogs, none the less was able to hold his own be- 
 cause of his familiarity with western conditions. 
 Together, the three dogs made an admirable pack. 
 The cattle were driven up the rough trail up Pot 
 Creek with very little trouble, and Gavan returned 
 the next day, having seen his little herd cropping 
 the abundant grass on the upper slopes of the 
 mountains, from which the snow had not all 
 melted, but lay in patches here and there. 
 
 Bright and early the next morning Gavan 
 started off with a long-handled shovel to dig his 
 irrigation ditch. In that soil, which is so sticky
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 75 
 
 that houses are built simply of walls of clay, an 
 irrigation ditch is the simplest thing in the world 
 to make, provided the levels are run right. This 
 work was already done for Gavan, for he had 
 found the levels on which Blue Joe Keary had 
 commenced to work before he had been stopped 
 by the Mexicans, two years before. 
 
 Realizing that he would have no difficulty in 
 running the ditch across his own land, and that the 
 fight, if there was to be one, would probably come 
 from the running of the ditch over a piece of un- 
 used land, but which undoubtedly belonged to 
 some Mexican settler or other, Gavan began a 
 few feet away from the river. It would take him, 
 he knew, almost a month's work merely to dig the 
 narrow ditch eighteen inches wide and the same 
 deep over the couple of miles, provided that he 
 was let alone. There was, therefore, no time to 
 waste. 
 
 Towards the middle of the afternoon a Mexican 
 came riding by on his pony. He stopped and 
 watched the boy for a few minutes. Gavan bid 
 him " Good-day" in Spanish, which the Mexican 
 courteously returned. The conversation did not 
 proceed further. Towards evening, another Mex- 
 ican cantered up, looked at the work the boy was
 
 76 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 doing and rode off again without saying a word. 
 
 It was clear that trouble was brewing. 
 
 Bright and early the next morning, Gavan was 
 again at work. He had done a couple of hundred 
 yards the day before, and he had figured that if 
 he could keep up the pace, the little ditch which 
 would bring the life-giving water to his ranch 
 could be done in three weeks. 
 
 He had hardly been at work an hour when three 
 Mexicans rode up together. The foremost 
 stopped and said, in English, to Gavan, 
 
 "This land belongs to Antonio Moreno." 
 
 He motioned to the Mexican who had reined up 
 beside him. 
 
 Gavan, leaning on his spade, nodded in a 
 friendly manner to the proprietor of the land. 
 
 "So?" he said, questioningly. "It isn't 
 fenced. ' ' 
 
 The first speaker continued, courteously, but 
 with a definite menace in his voice. 
 
 "The father and grandfather of Antonio have 
 been on this land for forty years and more." 
 
 "Yes?" again queried Gavan, determined not 
 to say anything which might provoke controversy. 
 
 "Perhaps you do not know," the Mexican con- 
 tinued, "that by herd law any settler who has
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 77 
 
 lived continuously for more than ten years on a 
 certain place and has run cattle over it for ten 
 years in succession and has built a home on it, has 
 a clear title." 
 
 "Sure," agreed Gavan promptly, for this was 
 exactly the basis on which he was holding the land 
 that had been squatted by his cousin, "I know 
 that. I didn't know that any one claimed Senor 
 Moreno's land." 
 
 The Mexican pointed to the ditch. 
 
 "Did Antonio Moreno give you permission to 
 run a ditch across his land?" he asked. 
 
 "If Senor Moreno holds his land under the herd 
 law," the boy replied, seeing that his opportunity 
 had come, "there is no need to ask his permission 
 to run an irrigating ditch. It does not injure 
 his land. On the contrary, it improves it." 
 
 At this, the rearmost of the three Mexicans, a 
 dark-faced, heavy-browed man, spoke, in Spanish, 
 
 "It takes water out of the river," he said, "and 
 injures the water rights of every settler in the 
 valley." 
 
 Gavan spoke to the first speaker, recognizing 
 him as the spokesman for the crowd. 
 
 "Is this gentleman a part owner of Senor 
 Moreno's land?" he asked.
 
 78 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "No," the Mexican answered, "he has a large 
 farm just a little distance down the river, near 
 the village. All the farms in the valley have 
 water rights, and if water is taken out of the 
 river higher up, it injures the flow. I am sorry, 
 but we cannot allow you to continue digging the 
 ditch." 
 
 Gavan looked straight at the man, then played 
 his trump card. 
 
 "I'm digging this for the XO Ranch," he said. 
 "I'm afraid you'll have to explain it to them. I 
 can't do anything else but go ahead as I'm told." 
 
 The three Mexicans looked at each other. 
 
 "In what way is the XO Ranch interested?" 
 queried the foremost. 
 
 "I'll have to refer you to Jack Willis," the boy 
 returned. 
 
 "Thin-lip Jack?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Evidently the name was one to conjure with, for 
 a gloomy silence fell on the three men. It was 
 the leading Mexican who spoke first. 
 
 "We will take up the matter with Jack Willis," 
 he said, "and, in the meantime, you will stop 
 work." 
 
 "You can take up the matter with Jack Willis,"
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 79 
 
 retorted Gavan, ''and, in the meantime, I shall 
 continue work." 
 
 Whereupon, to give force and point to his re- 
 mark, the boy drove his spade into the ground and 
 turned over another foot of soil. 
 
 The Mexican scowled. 
 
 "Blue Joe Keary began," said the leader, "and 
 he is dead." 
 
 "But Thin-lip Jack is very much alive," the lad 
 retorted. 
 
 "You will quit work!" threatened the Mexi- 
 can. 
 
 "When I get orders from the XO, not before," 
 replied Gavan sturdily, and, acting as though the 
 Mexicans were no longer there, he continued dig- 
 ging, disregarding them as though they were but 
 fence-posts, or features of the landscape. 
 
 This contempt, of all things the most galling to 
 a Mexican 's half-Spanish, half -Indian pride, irked 
 the men sorely, but there was nothing that they 
 could do. They would cheerfully have shot or 
 knifed the boy, but the wild days have passed in 
 New Mexico, and, besides, even in the bad old 
 days, they would have hesitated before delib- 
 erately bringing down the wrath of the white com- 
 munity on their heads. The opposition of the
 
 8o WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 XO punchers was not a matter to be trifled with, 
 either. Accordingly, after a time, the three Mexi- 
 cans rode off, with muttered Spanish oaths. 
 
 Next morning, Gavan, coming to his work, found 
 his ditch filled up and level with the ground. His 
 three days' toil had gone for nothing. 
 
 The Mexicans' revenge had begun. 
 
 Gavan sat down on a little knoll and studied the 
 situation. Certainly, as long as this ditch was 
 running over the Mexican's land, there would 
 always be the probability that it would be filled 
 up, and an hour's work in the evening could de- 
 stroy all that he had done the day before. 
 
 From the Mexicans ' point of view, the plan was 
 a good one. It did not imbroil them with the XO, 
 for they could assume absolute ignorance of the 
 plot. It did not directly bring them into conflict 
 with the boy, and there was no evidence that could 
 be brought before the courts. 
 
 Gavan pondered long before he hit on a plan. 
 Then, chuckling to himself, he went back to his 
 little cabin and got out a large square of canvas 
 which he used when setting his traps. Fastening 
 strings to the sides and corners of this and cut- 
 ting a couple of short forked poles, he went back 
 in the afternoon to his work, and commenced
 
 Courtesy of Alexander Lambert, M D. 
 
 SAFE FROM THE. DOGS BUT NOT FROM A GUN.
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 81 
 
 clearing away the debris that the Mexicans had 
 tumbled back into the portion of the ditch which he 
 had already dug. 
 
 When evening came, Gavan unpacked the 
 bundle, stuck the two poles in the ground, making 
 from the canvas a small tent, untied a small sack 
 of provisions and sat down to supper, the three 
 dogs at his heels. The simple meal over, he 
 stretched out his tent and, rolling himself in a 
 blanket, lay down either to watch or to sleep, as 
 the case might be. 
 
 He had hardly been asleep an hour when he 
 awoke suddenly, hearing voices, and, peering out, 
 he saw half a dozen Mexicans, gathered in a group, 
 pointing to the tent and gesticulating violently. 
 Presently one of the men came forward and 
 shouted. 
 
 Gavan crept out of the tent, the dogs at his 
 heels. 
 
 * ' This is my land, ' ' said the speaker, who proved 
 to be Antonio Moreno, the owner, "I don't allow 
 trespassing." 
 
 "I'm here looking after my ditch," the boy 
 began, but the other cut him short. 
 
 " Ditch has nothing to do with camping," he 
 said, brusquely. "If I don't want suspicious
 
 82 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 characters on my land, I don't have to have them. 
 Get out of here!" 
 
 Gavan bit his lip. He had been so interested 
 in his ditch that he had forgotten other rights 
 of the owner. There was no doubt that he was 
 trespassing. He racked his brain for a suitable 
 retort or an excuse, but found none. Sulkily, he 
 kicked down the poles that held his tent, rolled up 
 canvas, blanket and sack of provisions, and set off 
 across the sage-brush without a word. 
 
 The Mexicans, all silent, watched him go. 
 They made no taunt. A Mexican will often be 
 mean, but rarely discourteous. 
 
 Next morning found Gavan in a brown study. 
 He did not want to go to the ranch boss with his 
 troubles, for he saw clearly enough that, so far, 
 he had no evidence against the Mexicans. There 
 was a strong presumption that it was Antonio 
 Moreno and his f rends who had filled up his ditch, 
 but presumption was not proof. And, so far as 
 his camping there was concerned, he had un- 
 doubtedly been in the wrong. 
 
 He racked his brains this way and that to try 
 and find some way of getting proof that the Mexi- 
 cans were each night undoing the work that he
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 83 
 
 was doing in the day, but how to get that proof 
 without trespassing at the same time was a 
 serious problem. Then his eye happened to 
 fall on a mail order catalogue, which was lying 
 on a shelf in the corner, one of those books which 
 makes its way into nearly every farm and ranch- 
 house in the country, and a brilliant idea struck 
 him. 
 
 1 'By the hind hoofs of a mule!" he exclaimed, 
 using one of Blue Joe's pet expressions, "I've got 
 it!" 
 
 He snatched his hat from the table and struck 
 out of the door across the meager pasture to 
 where his pony was trying to crop a meal from 
 the scanty grass. 
 
 He rode straight into town and stopped at the 
 sheriff's house. Hunch Capton was in and 
 greeted him warmly, insisting on the lad's stay- 
 ing to dinner. Not until the meal was over did 
 Gavan have a chance to broach the subject which 
 had brought him to town. 
 
 1 'Mr. Capton," he asked, "have you got a 
 camera ? ' ' 
 
 "No," answered the sheriff, "I haven't. I can 
 most generally remember the faces of the men
 
 84 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 I'm looking for, or them that's lookin' for me." 
 
 The boy's expression changed to disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 ' ' Why ? ' ' asked the sheriff kindly. " Is it some- 
 thin' you want real bad?" 
 
 "I just wanted it for one night," declared 
 Gavan. "And it is important, ever so important. 
 It means a lot to me ! " 
 
 "Suppose you tell me all about it," suggested 
 the sheriff, and, thus prompted, the boy recounted 
 the refilling of the ditch and his eviction for tres- 
 passing. 
 
 "Pretty slick " remarked the sheriff, when the 
 story was told. "What did you reckon to do 
 about it?" 
 
 "Why I had thought of a plan," answered 
 Gavan, and he explained in detail the project he 
 had conceived that morning. 
 
 The sheriff sat back in his chair, a quiet smile 
 overspreading his features. 
 
 "It's a smooth scheme!" he declared. "Wait 
 here a minute, Gavan. I think I can get you a 
 camera and the fixin's. The Forest Supervisor, 
 here, has one, and he'd lend me his front teeth 
 if I asked him." 
 
 He was not gone a quarter of an hour when he
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 85 
 
 came back, with as satisfied a smile on his face as 
 if he had succeeded in getting the better of a 
 notorious cattle-rustler or a would-be "bad man." 
 
 "Here she is," he declared, holding out a 
 camera to the boy, "hide, hair, 'n' hoof, an' 
 the Supervisor said you were to go right over to 
 his place, an' he'll explain everything you might 
 want to know about layin ' the trap. But, Gavan, 
 while I was out, I thought of a little hitch in your 
 plan." 
 
 "What's that?" asked the boy. 
 
 "Well," said the sheriff, "as I understand it, 
 you want to sort of fix this thing like you was set- 
 tin' a trap to catch a coyote. Tell me again, just 
 how you aim to work it." 
 
 "Well," said Gavan, "I figured that if it's all 
 right for me to dig the ditch, it must be all wrong 
 for any one to smash it up to bits." 
 
 "Right," said the sheriff, nodding his head, 
 "it's interferin' with a public improvement, or, 
 leastways, it might be took that way." 
 
 "Now," said the boy, "if I could photograph 
 some one actually engaged in filling in that ditch, 
 I'd have proof against them." 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "But since they do it at night, there wouldn't
 
 86 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 be light enough to take a photograph, so it would 
 have to be done by flashlight." 
 
 " Bight again." 
 
 1 'But," the lad continued, ''if I went around 
 hunting for them with a camera and a flashlight 
 apparatus, they'd likely see me before I could 
 see them, and certainly before I could get the 
 camera focussed and everything fixed." 
 
 "Another bull's-eye," the sheriff agreed. 
 
 "So I figured," went on Gavan, "that if I could 
 fix the camera and the flashlight to a long piece 
 of fish-line, stretched all the way along the earth 
 that I've thrown up out of the ditch, the very 
 second that anybody put a spade in the dirt to 
 throw it back, they would jerk the string, fire the 
 flashlight, and the picture would take of itself." 
 
 "Your plan is 0. K," said the sheriff, "but, 
 as I. said to you, there's a hitch in it. Do you see 
 where it is I " 
 
 "Where!" queried the boy. 
 
 "What's goin' to happen to the camera?" the 
 older man suggested. ' ' Do you suppose that after 
 they'd let themselves be took in that way, a bunch 
 of Greasers would just stand around a while an' 
 go home! Not on your life. They'd find that 
 camera an' either shoot it full of holes or throw
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 87 
 
 it in the river. Anyway, you wouldn't see it 
 again. ' ' 
 
 Gavan dropped into a chair, the picture of 
 despair. 
 
 "I'd never thought of that!" he said. "And 
 if I'm there to grab it, I'm trespassing again." 
 
 He pondered for a moment. 
 
 "Mr. Capton," he said, "couldn't I just hide 
 there, and when the flashlight went off, grab the 
 camera and run!" 
 
 "You could," the sheriff answered, "but even in 
 the dark the Mexicans would be likely to shoot 
 around promiscuous. An' one of the bullets might 
 chance to hit. What's more, your evidence 
 wouldn't be any good, because to bring it into 
 court you'd have to prove that you were there, 
 which would be trespassin' an' they could bring 
 a counter-suit an' make all sorts of trouble for 
 you about it. No, I've thought of a better idea 
 than that." 
 
 "What?" asked the boy, eagerly. 
 
 "Sleep in the ditch," said the sheriff. 
 
 Gavan looked at him with a puzzled manner. 
 
 "I don't get you," he said. 
 
 The sheriff smiled. 
 
 "We're agreed," he said, "that you have a
 
 88 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 right to dig an irrigation ditch across uncultivated 
 ranch land the title of which is held by herd law, 
 providin' the ditch doesn't interfere with the 
 value of the land an' doesn't rob any other people 
 of water rights, to the extent of injuring their 
 property. Therefore that ditch is yours." 
 
 1 'Well?" queried Gavan. 
 
 "That ditch," the sheriff repeated, "becomes 
 yours as soon as you dig it." 
 
 "I don't see your point yet," declared the boy. 
 
 "If the ditch is yours," repeated the sheriff, 
 "it's your land, too, isn't it!" 
 
 "You mean the actual ditch!" 
 
 "Sure. And if, in diggin' the ditch, you should 
 make a place deep enough to lie in, you wouldn't 
 be trespassin', would you? You'd be on your own 
 land." 
 
 The boy looked eager, but dubious. 
 
 "Do you suppose that would hold in law?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I don't know much about the legal end of it," 
 the sheriff replied, "but I'm right sure it would 
 hold in this court in Taos. A white man isn't 
 goin' to give judgment for a Mexican against a 
 white man, special when the good o ' the country 's
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 89 
 
 on the white man's side. You go ahead and set 
 your camera an' your flashlight, Gavan, an', when 
 it gets good and dark, jest lie down full length 
 in the dry ditch. If the scheme works an' you 
 get the photo of the Mexicans, don't come out o' 
 the ditch. Stay there till mornin', when you can 
 go ahead an' work. If Moreno and the rest say 
 anything about it, an' want to show up nasty, 
 jest tell 'em that I told you to go ahead." 
 
 Gavan thanked the sheriff heartily and hurried 
 over to the office of the Forest Supervisor, to learn 
 all that he could about the setting of the camera 
 and the placing of the flashlight. 
 
 That night, just as it was getting dusk, Gavan 
 took his spade and widened out a section of the 
 dry ditch deep enough for him to lie in, laid a 
 slicker and his blanket in the widened ditch and 
 curled himself down to watch. 
 
 He had not long to wait. 
 
 Soon after it became quite dark, the boy heard 
 the sound of horses' hoofs and of voices, and 
 presently he could distinguish in the starlight 
 three or four dim forms. The boy's fingers 
 trembled on the flashlight trigger, but he remem- 
 bered the warning against haste that the sheriff
 
 90 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 had given him, and he waited for the flashlight to 
 blaze of itself, as soon as the wreckers should 
 actually begin work. 
 
 A short laugh rang out on the night air, and 
 Gavan heard one of the men say, in Spanish, 
 
 "The young fool will get tired after a while, and 
 quit." 
 
 Then Gavan heard the rattle of a shovel on the 
 dry earth and, a moment later, the brilliant white 
 calcium light of the flashlight blazed out, showing 
 two men actually digging with shovels, a third 
 standing by and a fourth on horseback surveying 
 the scene. 
 
 The light flared out as quickly as it had sprung 
 up and the resultant darkness seemed more pro- 
 found than ever to dazzled eyes. Working by 
 feel, Gavan closed the shutter of the camera, un- 
 screwed it from the tripod and laid it down in 
 the ditch beside him. 
 
 He had hardly done this when a shot rang out. 
 The Mexicans, after their first start at the sudden 
 light, were firing blindly in every direction. 
 Gavan flattened himself in the ditch, not greatly 
 frightened, for he knew that it would not occur 
 to the Mexicans to fire directly on the ground 
 under their feet. Presently, however, one of the
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 91 
 
 men, who had continued his work of filling in the 
 ditch, found his shovel foul of the long piece of 
 string which Gavan had used for the setting off 
 of the flashlight. He called the attention of the 
 others to it, and the man on horseback, the leader 
 of the party, suggested that this string should be 
 followed up to find where it led. 
 
 A score of steps led the party to where Gavan 
 was lying, an inconspicuous figure from a dis- 
 tance, but easily discerned by any one looking 
 directly down on the ground. One of the men 
 struck a match, and in the flare of it, Gavan could 
 be distinctly seen, curled up at the bottom of the 
 enlarged depression he had made in the ditch. 
 
 A storm of curses broke out at the sight of 
 him, and one of the men, advancing, threatened 
 him with his six-shooter. 
 
 ' ' Get up and out o ' that ! " he said, roughly. 
 
 "No," answered Gavan, quietly, from the dark- 
 ness. "This is my ditch, and I've got the right 
 to stay here. 'Hunch' Capton said so." 
 
 Just as the mention of the name of Thin-lip 
 Jack had stopped the Mexicans from rough treat- 
 ment before, so did the sheriff' s name, this time. 
 
 "What was that light?" asked the leader. 
 
 "I wanted to see who you were," the boy an-
 
 92 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 swered, wisely saying nothing about the camera. 
 
 There followed a long discussion in undertones, 
 in Spanish, the details of which Gavan could not 
 hear, but he gathered the purport of it to be that 
 even if the boy did swear that he had seen them, 
 he was a minor and his testimony could be of little 
 value. And, if he wanted to lie out there at night, 
 well, the ditch was two miles long, and as fast 
 as he dug one part of it, another could be filled 
 in. The owner of the land, Gavan judged, wanted 
 to give the lad a thrashing, but the leader inter- 
 posed, saying that they could get their way with- 
 out violence, and that to beat up a lad who had 
 the backing of the sheriff and the XO ranch at 
 the same time, wouldn't be healthy. 
 
 "If he's got the sheriff behind him," said the 
 leader, sensibly, "we're not likely to get the better 
 of him at law, and the XO punchers would be only 
 too glad of an excuse to stir up trouble. We 
 know that. "We'll play the long game. It's 
 safest." 
 
 Whereupon, after a volley of threats, to which 
 Gavan paid not the slightest heed, nor even 
 deigned an answer, the men mounted their ponies 
 and rode away. 
 
 Next day Gavan went into town and the Forest
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 93 
 
 Supervisor developed the plate. Thanks to the 
 instructions the boy had received, and which he 
 had followed out with scrupulous exactitude, the 
 negative was clear and sharp. The figures of the 
 four men were plainly shown and three of them, 
 at least, could be recognized. The fourth, the 
 leader, who had been on horseback, was slightly 
 out of focus, but his horse could be recognized, 
 although the man could not. 
 
 Two days later, the sheriff rode up to the hold- 
 ing of Antonio Moreno. The Mexican came out 
 of his adobe house and scowled at the sheriff. 
 
 "What you want?" he asked. 
 
 "I've a pair of handcuffs in my pocket," said 
 the sheriff, sharply, "an' I may want them for 
 you. See here, you crawlin' snake," he con- 
 tinued, holding out a photograph, "here's a pic- 
 ture of you, taken the other night." 
 
 Moreno took the print and looked at it, his 
 features working spasmodically. 
 
 "It's a lie!" he said. 
 
 "Oh, no, it isn't," answered the sheriff, cheer- 
 fully. "It would be taken as evidence in any 
 court of law, especially with the testimony of 
 Gavan Keary an' the others who were there as 
 witnesses."
 
 94 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 " Others?" There was a note of fear in the 
 Mexican's voice. 
 
 1 'Of course. Do you suppose we'd have risked 
 leavin' a boy of that age in your hands?" 
 
 This was bluff, pure and simple, but there was 
 no way for Antonio to know it. He saw at once 
 that if there were other witnesses, and if the 
 photograph had actually been taken as the sheriff 
 said it had, it would be of no use for him to deny 
 that he had taken any part in the filling up of the 
 ditch. 
 
 "Now you just listen to me for about one 
 minute," continued the sheriff, "an' tell your 
 friends what I say. In this country of Taos an' 
 state of New Mexico, every man, white, Mexican, 
 or Indian, is goin ' to get justice. The laws o ' the 
 United States aren't a-goin' to be twisted because 
 of a man's color or his lingo. 
 
 "But there's one thing more important than any 
 man's color or lingo, an' that's the community 
 as a whole. If somethin' comes up that's a-goin' 
 to benefit the community as a whole, an' any 
 man gets in the way o' that, well, I'm just tellin' 
 you that he'll be walkin' on cactus with bare feet. 
 I'm listin' that ditch o' Gavan Keary's as a public 
 improvement, an', since it runs on your land, I
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 95 
 
 give you official warnin' that if it's interfered 
 with, I'll hold you personally responsible an' 
 make you repair any damages yourself. 
 
 "No, you don't need to do any talkin'," he 
 added, as he saw the Mexican was about to inter- 
 rupt, "what I say, goes. You savvy?" 
 
 The shifty-eyed Mexican tried to answer the 
 sheriff, glance for glance, but his gaze fell under 
 those stern gray eyes. 
 
 "I won't do nothin' against it," he muttered at 
 length. 
 
 "Well," retorted the sheriff, "if any one else 
 does, you'll be blamed for it, an' what's more, 
 any hostile act against that ditch I shall take as a 
 personal insult." 
 
 He dropped his hand so that it rested on the 
 butt of his gun. 
 
 "I don't often overlook personal insults," he 
 added, meaningly, and the Mexican understood. 
 
 The ditch was never interfered with after that, 
 and Gavan, slaving under the hot sun, saw that 
 a few days would be sufficient to finish the ditch 
 as far as his own land. 
 
 Remembering the advice of the ranch boss, he 
 then sought out Quick Feather and explained to 
 the old Indian his need of a team and plow for
 
 96 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 cultivating the ground. When he had finished 
 Quick Feather nodded. 
 
 "Thin-lip Jack will pay?" he queried. 
 
 11 That's what he said," the boy answered. 
 
 "He has hard tongue, but his words are 
 straight," was Quick Feather's only comment. 
 
 Next morning, an Indian was at work, turning 
 over what had been a semi-desert vegetation of 
 sage-brush, rabbit-brush, salt-brush, Spanish bay- 
 onet, and yucca, with some scattered bear-grass, 
 exposing a dusty, dry soil which looked incapable 
 of growing anything. But Gavan knew, even as 
 the Indians knew, that it is only necessary to let 
 water flow occasionally over that dusty land to 
 produce crops that are worthy of comparison with 
 the best farming lands of the Middle West. 
 
 The story of Gavan 's fight against the Mexicans 
 for the putting through of the ditch had been 
 thoroughly discussed at Taos, the sheriff having 
 spread the story of the flashlight photograph, 
 knowing the value of favorable public opinion, 
 and many people who had never heard of Gavan 
 Keary before, or who, at all events, had paid no 
 attention to Blue Joe Keary 's young cousin, now 
 went out of their way to help the lad. The super- 
 visor of the Carson National Forest, who had lent
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 97 
 
 the camera and the flashlight apparatus, procured 
 from Washington detailed information as to the 
 best hay crops that could be grown on the place 
 and arranged matters so that Gavan could buy 
 a higher-grade seed than that which was in 
 common use in the valley. 
 
 " There's another thing you ought to do, too," 
 the Supervisor told him, "and that's make use 
 of all that foothill country back of the flats. 
 You've got a hundred acres there that isn't worth 
 a hundred cents to you, the way it is." 
 
 "Nothing grows there but pinon-pine, juniper, 
 live-oak, silk-tassel, and prickly-pear, ' ' the boy an- 
 swered. "I couldn't even raise goats on that!" 
 
 "Why doesn't anything else grow there?" asked 
 the Supervisor. 
 
 "Ground's too poor, I suppose," the boy an- 
 swered. 
 
 The Supervisor shook his head. 
 
 "It's the same soil as what you're plowing," 
 he replied. 
 
 "Then it must be the slope," said Gavan. 
 "Anyway, I couldn't make water run uphill." 
 
 "No," agreed the Supervisor, "you couldn't, 
 "but rain flows downhill." 
 
 "Sure," agreed the boy, "but when it rains
 
 98 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 here it comes so hard that it just rushes off the 
 foot-hills, and, half an hour after a rainstorm, the 
 slopes are as dry as they were before." 
 
 "But if you could keep it from running off?" 
 queried the Supervisor, "what then?" 
 
 Gavan thought for a moment. 
 
 "If the water could be made to stick on the 
 side of a hill," he said, "why I suppose grass 
 would grow. But I don 't see how to make water 
 stick on the side of a hill!" 
 
 "Yet it's easy enough," the Forest Supervisor 
 answered, "once you see the way. Suppose we 
 work out the principle of it first. What is a 
 river?" 
 
 Gavan thought for a moment, for he saw that 
 his questioner wanted a careful answer. 
 
 "A river," he said at last, "is water flowing 
 down a valley from the mountains to the sea." 
 
 "And where does that water come from?" 
 
 "Earn, snow, and springs," the boy replied 
 promptly. 
 
 "And what makes springs?" 
 
 This was a poser, but after a few minutes, 
 Gavan hazarded, 
 
 "Rain?" 
 
 "Of course," the supervisor agreed, "though it
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 99 
 
 may have been rain that has fallen long before 
 and is slowly filtering through rock or soil. A 
 river, then, is only a gully to hold rain-water." 
 
 "Yes," the boy agreed, "I guess that's so." 
 
 * ' Very good, ' ' said the Supervisor. ' * Now sup- 
 pose that you made a little river-bed along the 
 side of a hill, sloping gradually the way a river 
 bed does, the rain-water would flow the same way, 
 wouldn't it?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I suppose it would," the boy re- 
 turned, looking eagerly at the Supervisor, as the 
 plan began to seep into his head. 
 
 "And if you made a series of little river beds 
 or parallel gullies, say every ten yards up the 
 hill, when it rains, instead of all the water rushing 
 off into an arroyo or sluicing down the side of the 
 hill, it would strike these gullies and flow slowly 
 along them. That way, the ground would stay 
 moist for a week or ten days after a heavy rain, 
 because the water would be flowing in parallel 
 lines around the hill, and soaking the ground all 
 round them. 
 
 "Now," the Supervisor continued, "if you had 
 seeded the side of that hill with some tough, 
 drought-resisting grass, there's more than a 
 chance that it would take root, and every tuft of
 
 ioo WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 grass that got a hold would help to keep the soil 
 together and prevent erosion. It would act as a 
 natural filter, too, and hold the moisture. At first 
 your grass would only grow along the edges of 
 these little contour gullies, as they are called, for, 
 in order to get the best results, these gullies 
 must closely follow the contour of the moutains, 
 or, in other words, they must be nearly level." 
 
 "But how can I find that out?" asked the boy. 
 
 "I've got an extra set of instruments I'll lend 
 you, ' ' said the Supervisor, ' ' and I '11 teach you how 
 to use them. It'll be slow work for you, at first, 
 but it'll pay in the long run. The main trouble 
 with this country around the Little Rio Grande 
 and the Rio Chiquito isn't that there's not enough 
 water, nor enough rainfall, but that the water 
 which does come down isn't properly conserved. 
 That two hundred acres your cousin left you, prob- 
 ably wasn't worth as many dollars, the way it was, 
 but if you can turn the flats into cultivated land, 
 and the foothill slopes into rich pasture, you could 
 make it worth ten times as much in three years' 
 time. And, what's more important, even, is that 
 every piece of desert land put under cultivation is 
 a gift to the United States. You're helping to 
 make your country greater."
 
 DOWNING A GREASER 101 
 
 "I'll do it, sir!" declared Gavan, his eyes 
 kindling at the idea. 
 
 1 ' There 's one thing more about improving your 
 foothill country," the Supervisor continued. 
 "You know how, in a rainstorm, the arroyos 
 fill up and become torrents, sucking the water out 
 from smaller arroyos or gullies that run into it 
 every few yards or so!" 
 
 "Yes, sir," the boy agreed, wondering what else 
 was coming. 
 
 "Dam those arroyos every fifty yards or so," 
 the Supervisor answered, "cutting short ditches 
 from your dams. Then your arroyos, which have 
 been your greatest robbers of water, become 
 natural irrigation channels. 
 
 "It's incredible, my boy, when you come to think 
 of it, how little intelligent work it takes to make 
 a section rich, instead of poor. Mother Nature is 
 the kindest as well as the strongest of man's 
 friends, but she has got to be humored. 
 
 "Study the world you live in, my boy, and the 
 more you learn about it, the more you'll find how 
 good it is to live in. Once be proud of yourself 
 and of your country, and you '11 have a country to 
 be proud of, and the country will be proud of
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 
 
 WITH the aid of his three "trustees," as they 
 liked to call themselves, and with the friendship 
 of the Forest Supervisor, Ga van's little farm 
 for it was no longer merely a ranch holding 
 flourished. 
 
 The Mexicans had given up their fight on the 
 irrigation ditch, and Gavan had been sufficiently 
 shrewd to gain the favor of his former enemy 
 Moreno, by cutting a lateral ditch to a corner 
 of the Mexican's land in such a manner that it 
 gave the latter a stream of water over an uncul- 
 tivated stretch that his own irrigation system did 
 not reach. 
 
 The contour furrowing of the hillsides was 
 beginning to show results, and, next year, Gavan 
 expected there would be a good growth of grass 
 on the hillside. His alfalfa crop promised well, 
 and, thanks to the XO ranch, his market was as- 
 sured.
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 103 
 
 All this was most satisfactory and Gavan stuck 
 to his work with grim persistency. Still, farm- 
 ing was not the work he liked best to do. His 
 heart was set on the trap line, and he had 
 promised the XO, that, in return for the privi- 
 lege of grazing on the rich uplands, he would do 
 his best to keep the lower part of the ranch, on 
 which his land bordered, free from coyotes. 
 
 In this work, Quick Feather was the lad's chief - 
 est help. Like all Indians, once he had given his 
 trust, Quick Feather gave it thoroughly. Gavan 
 had been anxious to tell the Indian his troubles 
 about the ditch, but he had not dared. There is 
 danger in inflaming the Indians and the Mexicans. 
 So Gavan had sought the sheriff's aid, rather than 
 that of Quick Feather. When it came to trap- 
 ping, however, that was another story, for no 
 one that the boy had ever met seemed to know 
 so much about animals and their ways as did the 
 Indian. 
 
 Trapping with Quick Feather was the hardest 
 kind of work, for, old though the Indian was, he 
 could climb up the rugged slopes of the Sangre 
 de Cristo Mountains, slither down into canyons, 
 and set a pace which Gavan found hard to follow. 
 The boy would be winded and breathing heavily,
 
 io 4 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 what time the old Indian showed not the slight- 
 est sign of distress. Not only that, but Quick 
 Feather demanded of the boy that he give his 
 whole attention to the trail, and, at a moment when 
 the boy was gasping for breath near the summit 
 of a ridge, having spent all his energy merely 
 in keeping up with Quick Feather, the Indian 
 would question him about the signs he ought to 
 have noticed on the way up. The detailed knowl- 
 edge that he expected from Gavan seemed almost 
 incredible. 
 
 Quick Feather was utterly contemptuous of the 
 white men in one thing. He declared, over and 
 over again, that ' ' the men with hair on their face ' ' 
 would never take the trouble to do a thing 
 thoroughly. 
 
 "White man know a great many tricks," he said 
 to Gavan one day; "many more tricks than Indian, 
 but he not know them so well. Indian know only 
 a few, but he know them well. I show you how 
 to trap." 
 
 Now Gavan prided himself on his trapping, as 
 he had good reason to do, for, compared with 
 other trappers in the neighborhood, he was quite 
 successful. Secretly, he rather doubted whether 
 there was anything more that he neede'd to know,
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 105 
 
 but the old Indian soon showed him his mistake. 
 
 One day he was talking over-confidently 
 about a coyote trail he had seen when the Indian 
 stopped him with a sharp, sidewise glance. 
 
 "You know coyote track?" he asked. 
 
 1 1 Of course, ' ' answered Gravan, a little hurt that 
 Quick Feather should suppose him ignorant of so 
 simple a thing. 
 
 "You know dog track?" 
 
 "Sure!" the boy declared. 
 
 "How different?" 
 
 Gavan looked puzzled, but he answered, 
 promptly enough. 
 
 "It's a little hard to explain, Quick Feather, 
 though I can tell easy enough when I see them 
 together. The foot of a coyote is narrower, or, 
 put it another way, the heel of the dog is rounder." 
 
 "So white man says," replied the Indian. 
 "Not true. Many dogs have feet as narrow as 
 coyote. Collie track and coyote track just same." 
 
 The boy protested vehemently. 
 
 "Do you mean to say, Quick Feather," he 
 asked, "that you think the trail of a collie and 
 coyote are alike?" 
 
 "No," the Indian answered, "trail different." 
 
 "But you just now said they were the same."
 
 Western 
 
 Coyote. 
 
 m 
 
 106
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 107 
 
 "Track the same," corrected the Indian. 
 " Trail different." 
 
 This distinction was beyond the lad. 
 
 "I don't follow you," he said. "How can the 
 trail be different if the track is the same?" 
 
 The Indian smiled, a slow, grave smile. 
 
 "There white man make mistake," he answered. 
 "Quick Feather no mistake. White man look at 
 track. Indian look at trail." 
 
 "But how can you follow a trail except by the 
 track!" 
 
 "Poor trapper," came the reply, "see only 
 where animal walks. That is nothing. Good 
 trapper tell what animal thinks. That is some- 
 thing. If you want to be good trapper, Gavan, 
 think same as animal." 
 
 "How, Quick Feather?" queried the boy. 
 
 "I show you," the Indian replied. 
 
 In response to a gesture, the boy reached for his 
 hat and followed the old Indian toward the foot- 
 hills. After an hour's walk they reached a place 
 all worked over by the burrows of pocket or 
 pouched gophers, and there, in the dust, could be 
 seen the faint tracks of some animal of the canine 
 family, dog or wolf. 
 
 "Coyote or dog?" queried the Indian.
 
 io8 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Eealizing that this question was put to him as 
 a test, Gavan bent down and examined the track 
 carefully. The general impression he gained was 
 that the print was from a coyote's feet, but he 
 was by no means sure. As the spot was near a 
 trail that led to the hot springs not far away, 
 where the Mexican women often went to do their 
 washing, Gavan thought that there was a stronger 
 probability that the tracks were those of a dog. 
 Besides, he reasoned, there would be less danger 
 of his seeming to show off if he told the Indian 
 that the prints were those of a domestic rather 
 than a wild animal. 
 
 "I think it's a dog," he said, at last. 
 
 Quick Feather gave no sign, either of approval 
 or disapproval. He led the way over the sage- 
 brush for a short distance, and then asked again, 
 
 "Dog or coyote!" 
 
 This repeated question convinced Gavan that he 
 had guessed wrong the first time, but not seeing 
 a definite reason for changing his mind and know- 
 ing that if he said "coyote," Quick Feather would 
 be sure to ask him exactly why he now thought 
 differently, he decided to stick to his first state- 
 ment, and replied,
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 109 
 
 "It looks like a dog to me." 
 
 "Coyote!" declared the Indian, authoritatively. 
 
 "Why?" asked the boy. "How can you tell?" 
 
 "You look at track," the Indian repeated. "I 
 look at trail. I show you." 
 
 He turned back on the trail a little distance. 
 
 "See," he said, "tracks go in straight line for 
 old juniper. Little way before, swerve out. 
 Animal comes back and smells. Not dog." 
 
 ' ' Why not f ' ' persisted Gavan, who was anxious 
 to find out the old man's reasoning. "A dog will 
 smell everything he comes across, just like a wolf 
 or a coyote." 
 
 "Dog will smell," the Indian agreed, "but he 
 won't circle round stump. Dog not afraid. 
 Coyote always afraid. If dog, trail would be 
 straight. 
 
 "You must learn to think same as animal. 
 When coyote goes fast, he know why; when coyote 
 goes slow, he know why. When coyote jump to 
 one side, perhaps something frighten him, perhaps 
 he try to catch something. Coyote, when very 
 hungry, very scared. Coyote always hungry." 
 
 "So I've heard," the boy assented. "I was 
 told once, in the pueblo, that when the Good Spirit
 
 no WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 gave life to all the animals, he put them under the 
 fear of hunger, to keep them from getting too 
 proud." 
 
 "That true," said the Indian, "but coyote 
 hungriest of all animals." 
 
 "Why is that?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "When Good Spirit made animals," Quick 
 Feather replied, "he gave each one choice of 
 animal it wanted for food. 
 
 "Said Coyote: 
 
 " 'I want Mountain Sheep!* 
 
 "Said the Good Spirit: 
 
 (t l l have given Mountain Sheep strong horns.' 
 
 "Said Coyote, again: 
 
 " 'I choose Mountain Sheep!' 
 
 "Said Good Spirit: 
 
 " 'Well. Coyote shall have Mountain Sheep 
 for food, if can catch him.' 
 
 "So Coyote ran off to Mountain Sheep and 
 snapped his sharp white teeth. Mountain Sheep 
 whirled round quickly and caught Coyote on big 
 curled horns. Coyote ran away, howling. That 
 is why Coyote has no regular food, but eats any- 
 thing can find. 
 
 "But, just same, Coyote still impudent.
 
 Courtesy of " Shield's Magazine." 
 
 "YAP! YAP! YAP! YOW-EK-OW-OW!" 
 
 The howl of the coyotes is melancholy mad and nerve-racking. Two 
 
 or three animals can emit such a terrific wailing that the noise 
 
 sounds as though a hundred or more were in the concert. 
 
 Courtesy of " Forest and Xtrim." 
 
 THE VAGABOND OUTCAST IN GRAY. 
 
 Though over 100,000 coyotes are killed annually in the United States, 
 their numbers are not sensibly decreasing.
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE in 
 
 "One day, Star came close to earth. Coyote 
 saw her. 
 
 "Said Coyote: 
 
 " 'Star, come down and dance.' 
 
 "Said Star: 
 
 " 'No. Come up here and will dance.' 
 
 "So Coyote ran along moonbeam to sky where 
 Star was waiting, and began dance. Danced so 
 long that Moon went home. No way for Coyote 
 go back to earth. So Coyote dropped. Drop 
 long way and hurt great deal, and Coyote afraid 
 everything ever since. 
 
 "Now, on starlight night, Coyote howls for 
 Star ; moonlight night, Coyote howls because he is 
 too much ccward to run along moonbeam to dance 
 with lost comrade." 
 
 "Yet," the boy returned, "for all that he's a 
 coward, the coyote is no fool. He may not have 
 any regular prey, and he always looks more than 
 half starved, but, for all that he gets plenty to 
 eat." 
 
 "Coyote eat everything," the Indian answered. 
 "Coyote kill anything small for him to kill, eat 
 anything he find dead. Coyote no fool, Coyote 
 clever, he can catch Jack-Rabbit."
 
 ii2 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "I know he can," the boy agreed, "but I've 
 often wondered how. I should think a jack-rabbit 
 could outrun a coyote just as easy as easy." 
 
 "Jack-Rabbit can run," assented the Indian, 
 "but Coyote never hunt Jack-Rabbit alone. 
 Coyote find partner. Then Coyote start running 
 after Jack-Rabbit much fast. Jack-Rabbit start 
 running very much fast. Jack-Rabbit not clever, 
 run in circle. 
 
 "All the time Jack-Rabbit run, Coyote's Mate 
 sit on little hill, watching. When Jack-Rabbit 
 makes circle, Coyote's Mate run across to cut off 
 path of Jack-Rabbit. When Jack-Rabbit come 
 near, Coyote 's Mate begin to run. When Coyote 's 
 Mate run, Coyote sit down to rest. So Coyote 
 and Coyote's Mate tire out Jack-Rabbit and get 
 dinner. ' ' 
 
 "It's a slick piece of team-work," remarked the 
 boy, "and I've seen the same sort of thing in a 
 prairie-dog village. I was sitting quietly by one 
 of the underground towns, one day, watching the 
 fat little fellows pop in and out of their holes, 
 when suddenly a Coyote came dashing through the 
 village at top speed. 
 
 "Quick as a wink, every prairie dog made a 
 bolt for his burrow and the coyote ran all the
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 113 
 
 way through with never so much as a chance to 
 snap. 
 
 " 'Ah, ha, Mr. Coyote,' I said to myself, 'here is 
 where you get left.' 
 
 " Evidently the prairie dogs thought the same 
 thing, for no sooner had the coyote scurried 
 through, than they bobbed out of their holes and 
 barked sarcastic comments to each other about the 
 fool coyote. Then, like the shadow of a cloud over 
 the grass, came the coyote's mate, and with half 
 a dozen quick snaps she killed as many prairie 
 dogs. 
 
 ''Then, grinning with all his teeth, back 
 sauntered the coyote who had made the first dash 
 through the village and shared the meal with his 
 mate. I would have saved the little chaps if I 
 could, and driven the coyotes away, but since the 
 little prairie dogs were dead, it wasn't much use." 
 
 "Coyote very clever," said Quick Feather. 
 "Apache will not kill Coyote. Apache believe 
 that when Indian die he become Coyote and 
 when Coyote die he become Indian again." 
 
 "You don't believe that, Quick Feather, do 
 you!" asked the boy, incredulously. 
 
 "Quick Feather a Tigua," declared the 
 Indian, with dignity, "not thieving Apache."
 
 1 1 4 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 And Gavan, remembering the age-long feud be- 
 tween the Apaches and the Pueblo Indians, under- 
 stood the prideful answer. 
 
 Meanwhile, throughout this conversation, Quick 
 Feather had been walking at a swift pace. Sud- 
 denly he stopped, and turning to the boy, he 
 said, 
 
 "You see, Coyote!" 
 
 There was no further doubt. The carcass of an 
 animal several days dead had been freshly chewed 
 and near the carcass were to be seen the character- 
 istic tracks. 
 
 "Yes," agreed the boy, "that's a coyote, right 
 enough. None of the dogs 'round here would 
 want to tackle anything as smelly as that. Only 
 a coyote or a turkey-buzzard would be guilty." 
 
 He backed away, holding his nose tightly. 
 
 "To-morrow," said the Indian, "you set trap 
 here. Maybe you catch Coyote. Not catch him 
 at once, by and by, three, four days. If Coyote 
 kill something himself, he eat that. If Coyote 
 get very hungry he come back, eat this. Coyote 
 not forget where meat." 
 
 "I've got to settle down and put out a lot more 
 coyote traps," remarked the boy. "I heard the 
 other day from the XO ranch that the coyotes
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 115 
 
 were getting thick. IVe kept up my trap line all 
 right, but even with twenty traps out, I haven't 
 been catching more than two or three a week. 
 Of course, I've been pretty busy getting my traps 
 in shape." 
 
 "I help you," said the Indian, "we go to-mor- 
 row. ' ' 
 
 The following morning, accordingly, Quick 
 Feather appeared with a couple of jack-rabbits 
 that had evidently been caught in wire snares, and 
 asked the lad to bring out any spare traps he 
 might have. Gavan had but two that he had not 
 set out, and the Indian smelt these. 
 
 "No good," he declared. "Smell iron and 
 smell Man. Put in sage-brush soup." 
 
 "What's that, Quick Feather!" the boy asked. 
 
 "I show you. Cut plenty sage-brush." 
 
 Utterly at a loss to imagine what the Indian 
 might be intending to do, Gavan hurried out and 
 came back in a few minutes with a huge armful 
 of sage-brush. In the meantime the old man had 
 lighted a big fire out-of-doors, put an iron pot 
 on it, and started the water to boil. Into the boil- 
 ing water he put the traps and then crammed the 
 pot full of sage-brush. 
 
 "What's that for?" asked the boy.
 
 n6 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Coyote clever," the Indian returned. "Trap 
 stay in house, smell house. You set trap on 
 ground, Coyote smell house. Coyote look 'round, 
 see no house. Coyote afraid, go away. No catch 
 Coyote." 
 
 "But why sage-brush!" queried the boy. 
 "Just because of its strong smell?" 
 
 The Indian shook his head. 
 
 "If trap smell sage-brush," he said, "set under 
 sage-brush. If trap under pines, rub with pine- 
 gum. If trap near grass, no smell at all." 
 
 The reasoning of this was clear, and Gavan 
 stored away the information. Then, the traps 
 duly freed from the house smell, according to 
 Quick Feather's idea, some of the "soup" was 
 put in a bottle and the two started out. 
 
 Presently the Indian pulled up his pony. 
 
 "Coyote scratch!" he exclaimed. 
 
 Gavan peered at the ground. Though trained 
 to trapping as he had been by his association 
 with Blue Joe, the boy would have ridden by with- 
 out noticing anything unusual, but the keen eyes 
 of the Indian had seen some faint marks on the 
 dry ground. 
 
 "Coyote stop here," he said. "Coyote much 
 like Dog. When Coyote comes where another
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 117 
 
 Coyote has stopped, he smells, like Dog. After 
 has left smell here, runs on. 
 
 "In towns," continued Quick Feather, " houses 
 have telephones. 1 Can talk long way." 
 
 "Yes," put in Gavan, wondering what this had 
 to do with trapping. 
 
 "Wolves and Coyote have smell telephone," ex- 
 plained the Indian. "Plenty places, low bush or 
 tuft of grass all by itself, where Wolf or Coyote 
 will 'register.' Every Coyote his own smell, like 
 every man his own name. Coyote can tell whether 
 Coyote there before him was Friend Coyote or 
 Enemy Coyote, Man Coyote or Woman Coyote, 
 Old Coyote or Young Coyote, Full Coyote or 
 Hungry Coyote. Can tell whether to follow, or 
 stay away. To catch Coyote, find these 'register' 
 places, then sure to trap Coyote near by." 
 
 Quick Feather dismounted from his pony. 
 
 "Now," he said, "we set trap. Two ways. 
 One, set trap with no meat, near bush with smell, 
 Coyote may walk in trap. Other way, set trap 
 twenty paces away from smell place and put meat. 
 Coyote comes near smell place, knows where it is, 
 but not run right to it. Coyote never run straight 
 
 i The Pueblo Indians understand modern conveniences, and 
 the younger men speak good English. The older Indians are 
 conservative and keep to the ancient ways.
 
 n8 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 to anything, too much afraid. Always make circle 
 around it to get all smells. If smell right, Coyote 
 come closer. 
 
 "So, Coyote circle round little bush or tuft 
 of grass where smell is, smell meat. Coyote 
 hungry in morning, Coyote hungry sun-high, 
 Coyote hungry in the night. Coyote run around 
 meat, closer and closer, by and by get him. 
 
 "Second way, best. Not spoil smell-place. If 
 meat too near smell-place, bad trapping. Coyote 
 knows no other Coyote would bring meat there to 
 eat. That would spoil smell telephone. Must 
 learn to think same as animal," he concluded. 
 
 Whereupon Quick Feather, dragging after him 
 one of the dead jack-rabbits, advanced on a 
 straight line to the place where he purposed to set 
 the trap, putting one foot before the other exactly 
 so as to make a narrow trail. Then, wetting his 
 hands thoroughly with the "sage-brush soup" 
 from the little bottle he had carried, he dug into 
 the soft ground with a stick he picked up from 
 near by, making a shallow hole just the size of the 
 trap. In this hole he put the trap, covered the 
 pan with green leaves and covered the leaves with 
 a thin layer of earth. Then he dug a narrow 
 ditch in a curved line to hide the chain of the trap
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 119 
 
 and fastened this to a bush. After which he cut 
 part of the jack-rabbit into small bits and scat- 
 tered the pieces around the trap in such a way that 
 the animal could not help putting his foot into 
 the trap if he tried to snap up all the pieces. 
 
 " Catch Coyote by and by," said Quick Feather, 
 when he had finished. Then, stepping backwards 
 over his trail, he took the other jack-rabbit, which 
 he had been using as a drag, and pulled it gently 
 over the place where he had been standing, and so, 
 the dead animal dragging behind him, he returned 
 to his pony. 
 
 "No smell man," he said. 
 
 Gavan had watched the Indian's set with a great 
 deal of interest, being especially struck with the 
 care with which the Indian kept away all evidence 
 of human smell, but his trapper's instinct was a 
 long way from being satisfied. 
 
 ' ' That 's all right so far as the Coyote not smell- 
 ing you is concerned," he objected, "but you've 
 left all sorts of things that ought to make a coyote 
 suspicious. A coyote can tell the smell of a dead 
 jack-rabbit from the smell of a live one, he can 
 tell that a jack-rabbit, after he is dead, doesn't 
 drag himself over the ground, and he knows that 
 a jack-rabbit doesn't cut himself up in pieces."
 
 120 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 The Indian smiled, though evidently pleased at 
 the lad's trying to reason like an animal. 
 
 ' * Coyote not Gray Wolf, ' ' he corrected. * Wolf 
 much more hard to catch. If Coyote not smell 
 Man, Coyote let his belly fool his head. This trap 
 catch Coyote by and by. ' ' 
 
 Several days passed after the setting of the 
 trap, and Gavan watched it every other day, as he 
 did along the whole length of his trap line, but it 
 was not until a week later that a coyote was 
 caught. Even then, it was a young one, as yet un- 
 taught in the wiles of traps. Quick Feather's 
 set had not been notably more successful than the 
 boy's own. 
 
 Rather to his chagrin, the boy was compelled to 
 admit to himself a lack of sufficient result in his 
 coyote trapping, and a somewhat harsh remark 
 from the ranch boss rankled in his mind. 
 
 "You don't need to forget to trap, jest because 
 you're raisin' a little hay!" Thin-lip Jack had 
 said. 
 
 Gavan had redoubled his efforts and put out 
 on his line every trap he owned, or could borrow, 
 but the coyotes were beginning to get shy. They 
 had seen others caught and were growing wary. 
 The boy's system of trapping, as taught him by
 
 Copyright by Alexander Lambert, M.D. 
 
 BONEY MOORE HOLDING UP LIVE COYOTE. 
 (Photograph from the Roosevelt hunt.)
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 121 
 
 Blue Joe and Quick Feather, while excellent for 
 catching coyotes when they were in profusion and 
 unwary, failed him sorely as soon as the sly little 
 animals grew suspicious and learned cunning. 
 
 "Looks like I'd better tell you how we used to 
 catch coyotes in Texas," said Thin-lip Jack, a 
 week later, when the traps again were found empty 
 and unsprung. "We used to run 'em down." 
 
 "On cow-ponies?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "On cow ponies an' with dogs," the ranchman 
 answered. "On the Double Bar P. ranch, there 
 was an Englishman, part owner, who owned a 
 couple of greyhounds. Most o' the rest of us had 
 mongrels o ' one kind or another. We didn 't know 
 anything about Airedales in those days. After 
 the roundup, when 'the work was slack on the 
 place, we'd fix up the lay-out for a coyote hunt. 
 
 ' ' Maybe half-a-dozen o ' the boys would pick out 
 the liveliest broncs o' their string an' we'd light 
 out, takin' the dcgs in a wagon, behind. By-'n'- 
 by some one would spot a coyote, an' the dogs 
 would be let slip. 
 
 "The coyote would head for the horizon, his 
 tail between his legs, with that slinkin' way o' his, 
 which looks like he wasn't movin' at -all, but the 
 mongrels would be left behind from the very first
 
 122 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 jump. Not the greyhounds, though, they'd just 
 skim along over the ground, like a prairie fire 
 gettin' a good hold. 
 
 "Mr. Coyote, he'd sort o' look back over his 
 shoulder, surprised like that anything should have 
 the nerve to chase him, an' he'd see those grey- 
 hounds comin' along like a stampede, so he'd let 
 out another link or two o' speed. But that wasn't 
 no manner o' use, the greyhounds could catch 
 anything that runs on four legs. The coyote, 
 he 'd pound the dust for all he knew how, but, just 
 the same, the greyhounds would slide up to him, 
 one on each side. 
 
 "Then, like a flash, both would dive for him at 
 the same minute, nip him by the neck an' give him 
 a quick toss in the air. It didn't hurt the coyote 
 none, leastways, not much, but it sure stopped his 
 advance a whole lot. A greyhound's strength is 
 in his legs, not in his jaw. The minute the coyote 
 started to run again, the two greyhounds would 
 nip him, an' up and over he'd go like an acrobat. 
 It wasn't any use for the coyote to turn an' fight, 
 for two reasons, one that a coyote wouldn't fight 
 anyway, an' the other, that if he stopped to fight, 
 the pack of hounds and mongrels would come up 
 all the quicker.
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 123 
 
 * ' But, when he 'd been tossed a dozen times or so, 
 the other dogs, an' us, on our cow-ponies, were 
 beginnin' to range up pretty close, an' when the 
 dogs got him, that was the end o' Mr. Coyote. 
 
 "Once in a while we'd vary the game by goin' 
 out with the greyhounds only, an' gettin' the 
 coyote by ropin', draggin' the varmint back to 
 camp at the end of a lariat. It was good sport, 
 but it didn't reduce the coyote population nothin' 
 extraordinary. A fellow couldn't get more than 
 three a day at the most. The dogs would be wore 
 out." 
 
 "I wish we could do something like that here," 
 said Gavan wistfully, "couldn't my Airedales 
 help?" 
 
 "Sure," agreed the ranch boss, "they'd turn a 
 coyote into a ham sandwich once they got him. 
 But they wouldn't ever get. It takes a greyhound 
 to catch a coyote." 
 
 "Couldn't we get greyhounds'?" 
 
 "They wouldn't be no manner o' use in this 
 country," the ranchman answered. "A grey- 
 hound runs by sight, not by scent, an' when he 
 can't see the game, he quits. In these foothills 
 an' canyons, a coyote could twist aroun' an' lose 
 himself before the dogs had fairly got started.
 
 i2 4 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 No, Gavan, that deal only goes in prairie 
 country/* 
 
 1 'Why not have a coyote drive instead of a 
 coyote hunt, then?" the boy suggested. 
 
 1 ' That's a new one on me. What's a coyote 
 drive?" 
 
 "It's a sort of a general neighborhood round- 
 up," answered the boy; "I've read about them in 
 government bulletins. I know there have been 
 coyote drives in several of the western States, 
 Kansas, Colorado, Idaho, Oklahoma, and Texas. 
 I never heard of any in New Mexico, but why 
 shouldn't there be?" 
 
 "Go on, kid," declared the ranch boss, "I'm 
 plumb interested. What's the lay-out?" 
 
 "So far as I can make out," Gavan replied, "it's 
 simple enough. You get together as many fellows 
 on ponies as you can, and station them about 100 
 yards apart, more or less, according to the ground. 
 Sixty riders, that way, would make a front of 
 about three miles, wouldn't it?" 
 
 "Just about." 
 
 "Now, a line three miles long would reach right 
 across any of these valleys and up to the top of the 
 foothills. That bunch is to drive the coyotes. 
 
 "Out on the plain, where the creek runs into the
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 125 
 
 flat, we could get all the Mexicans and people from 
 the villages to make a good-sized semicircle, clear 
 from one side of the foothills across the river and 
 the valley and to the foothills on the other side." 
 
 "I see," broke in the ranch boss, "and have 
 that bunch well heeled with guns. ' ' 
 
 Gavan shook his head. 
 
 "In the 'drive' I read about in the Pasture 
 Reserve in Oklahoma," he replied, "guns weren't 
 allowed, for fear that there might be accidents. 
 You take several hundred people with guns shoot- 
 ing in a half circle, some one's apt to get hit. It 
 isn't every one that can shoot like you," he added. 
 
 The ranch boss looked up with an air of gratifi- 
 cation. 
 
 "Well," he said, "I was just about born with a 
 six-shooter in my hand. I'd be a dummy if I 
 couldn't shoot a little. But what does the crowd 
 handle if there ain 't no guns ? ' ' 
 
 "Clubs, mainly," the boy answered. "Some 
 of the cowboys carried lariats and roped the 
 coyotes, and nearly a hundred dogs of all sorts, 
 sizes and descriptions were there." 
 
 "I savvy," said the ranch boss. "You mean, 
 for example, we ought to clear out the whole valley 
 of the Little Rio Grande by chasing the coyotes
 
 iz6 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 down in front of the boys. Then, when they 
 reached the valley, all the Mexicans from the little 
 villages around an' maybe some of the Indians 
 from the pueblo, too, would be ready to pound the 
 life out of the coyotes, while every dog for miles 
 around would be havin' the time of his young 
 life." 
 
 " That's the idea, exactly," agreed Gavan. 
 
 "Well," said the ranch boss, "Labor Day comes 
 near the end of next week, an' we generally sort 
 o' make a holiday out of it. Why couldn't we 
 turn it into a sort o' general sport? A good share 
 o' folk would come in because of the sport end 
 of it, and a whole lot more because o' the gain in 
 gettin' rid of the coyotes. It's a good scheme, 
 Gavan. The cattle men will join in, sure, if the 
 Mexican crowd will do the business in the flat." 
 
 "I'm pretty sure they will," rejoined Gavan, 
 "if there's any chance of killing anything, the 
 Mexicans will want to be in on it. But, if you like, 
 Jack, I'll talk the plan over with the Forest Su- 
 pervisor. If he agrees and if Hunch backs it up, 
 every one else will follow along, that's sure." 
 
 As it chanced, the Forest Supervisor not only 
 showed himself enthusiastic over the plan, but said 
 he would write to the Chief of the Biological Sur-
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 127 
 
 vey for the State of New Mexico. The latter had 
 actually been present at the drive in Oklahoma in 
 1904 and would be able to give a lot of information 
 about it. By publication in the local Spanish 
 paper, the news spread quickly through Taos, Ran- 
 chos, Comero and the adjacent villages, including 
 the Indian pueblo. When the morning of the ap- 
 pointed day. arrived, the whole district was keen 
 with anticipation. The Biological Survey expert 
 had driven up from Embudo the night before and 
 went over the final arrangements. 
 
 Gavan, to his great delight, had been appointed 
 as one of the drivers. He had a good pony, he was 
 of light weight, and he knew the canyon and the 
 upper reaches of the Little Rio Grande thoroughly. 
 Besides, since the boy had suggested the affair, the 
 ranch boss thought the founder of the idea ought 
 to have a chance of choosing his part in it. The 
 drive proper had been put in charge of the ranch 
 boss, and he was not the sort of man whose rulings 
 were disputed. 
 
 The cowboys who were to take part in the drive 
 gathered at the Biological Survey grizzly hunters ' 
 camp near the head of the Little Rio Grande. 
 Several had ridden over the night before and piled 
 into the three small tents in the camp. Others
 
 i 2 8 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 had started from their distant ranches before 
 daylight. Before six o'clock in the morning, 
 Gavan, with half a dozen men from the XO, rode 
 to the very headwaters of the creek and started 
 down the canyon, with shouts and pistol shots. 
 By ten o'clock, they had reached the point of the 
 camp, where, by this time, fifty or sixty other 
 riders had gathered. 
 
 The cavalcade swept down the narrow valley, 
 which at points narrowed to a canyon, and again 
 widened out into park-like meadows. Swept is 
 hardly the word, for rarely was it possible for the 
 riders to do more than break into a jogging trot. 
 Looses stones, rocky piles and fallen timber made 
 progress difficult except on the narrow trail. Yet, 
 slipping and scrambling, the riders saw fleeting 
 before them, every now and again, the slinking 
 forms of the coyotes, running as always, tail to 
 the ground, as if ashamed of themselves. 
 
 Once, a fair-sized grizzly, driven from his feast 
 of berries by the noise, charged up the hill towards 
 the saddle back which led into the Rio Chiquito 
 Valley. It was useless to try to follow him, for 
 a bear, despite his apparent clumsiness, can go up- 
 hill almost as fast as he can down-hill, and faster 
 than any other living creature. A grizzly, in a
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 129 
 
 hurry, in rough country, is an amazing example of 
 muscular power and agility. Except on a flat 
 plain, a hungry bear can catch almost anything on 
 foot. 
 
 The character of the country changed as the 
 men descended. Early in the morning, when 
 Gavan had started downwards from the head- 
 waters of the creek, he had been on the edge of 
 the timber line in the Arctic-Alpine zone, where, 
 although it was September, the previous winter's 
 snow was still lying on the cold slopes, and where 
 the spindling willow was the only tree to be found, 
 the prevailing vegetation being moss. Few 
 coyotes were to be found there, for the Arctic- 
 Alpine zone of the peaks of the Sangre de Cristo 
 range are but storm centers around which, all 
 summer long, storms gather and roar, where 
 sweep blasts of hail and torrents of rain which 
 irrigate the arid plains below. 
 
 An hour's ride down the sharply pitching valley, 
 where the little river tossed and tumbled in a suc- 
 cession of tiny falls and swirling rapids, brought 
 Gavan to another entirely different zone of vegeta- 
 tion, marked especially by that curiously gnarled 
 tree, the fox-tail pine, each group of needles of 
 which looks like a green coyote's tail, though
 
 130 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 smaller. Along some of the slopes the boy noted 
 Engelmann spruce and cork-barked fir, the latter 
 providing a bark good for small corks. Here and 
 there a flitting gray-tawny form told of the rous- 
 ing of a coyote. 
 
 This zone is narrow and a scant hour served to 
 pass through it, and, descending to lower altitude, 
 Gavan found himself in the quaking aspen country, 
 known as the Hudsonian Zone. 
 
 A curious landscape this, where the dark- 
 needled blue spruce and gnarled juniper gleams 
 somberly amid the light-green and ever-quivering 
 leaves of the quaking aspen, whose long pale 
 shafts are covered with writings and knife-draw- 
 ings made by Mexican sheep-herders in the days 
 when the whole of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains 
 was open range. In this zone coyotes were more 
 numerous, and they fled before the shouts and 
 shots of the advancing cowboys. 
 
 Farther down, again, an old beaver dam athwart 
 the stream and the sudden appearance of tall 
 yellow pine, handsomest of all the trees in the 
 mountains, told of the descent into the Transition 
 Zone. Here squirrels darted from tree to tree 
 and Gavan recognized one of ihe smaller valley 
 openings as the place where he had treed and shot
 
 Copyright by Alexander Lambert, M.D. 
 
 COLONEL ROOSEVELT AND THE COYOTE. 
 
 (This, with several other pictures shown in this hook, was taken during 
 a coyote hunt on the plains in 1903.)
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 131 
 
 a mountain lion the winter before, when hunting 
 with Blue Joe Keary. Herds of cattle now were 
 passed, for this was among the best mountain 
 grazing land of the XO ranch. 
 
 Still farther down, again, the appearance of the 
 narrow-leaved cottonwood told the story of the 
 approach of the foothills, a region so different in 
 its character from those lying above it higher 
 on the mountain-side that it seems scarcely pos- 
 sible that the two can be only a few hours' ride 
 apart. This was the region of the juniper and 
 pinon or nut-pine upon the slopes, broken sud- 
 denly by higher patches of sage-brush plains, 
 where the silver-gray sage-brush is interspersed 
 with the green penguey and prickly-pear, and 
 where cane cactus and the Spanish bayonet or 
 yucca flourish. On sheltered slopes a few stunted 
 live-oak are to be found, but the prevailing vegeta- 
 tion is piiion, juniper, and sage-brush. Here is 
 the favored home of the coyote. Into the lower 
 tropical zone of Lower Sonoran, the chase did not 
 go, for this latter zone, marked plainly by mes- 
 quite and creosote-bush, does not extend as far 
 north in New Mexico as the Sangre de Cristo 
 Mountains. 
 
 Noon came as the drivers entered the cotton-
 
 132 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 wood and yellow-pine belt and immediately almost 
 every man pulled a fish-line and fish-hook from his 
 pocket, cut himself a rod and went fishing in the 
 Little Rio Grande. Gavan and some of the 
 younger men were set to work catching grass- 
 hoppers for bait, and, within half an hour, a mess 
 of mountain trout, large enough for all hands, was 
 cooking on four large frying-pans over a couple 
 of open fires. Several loaves of the camp-made 
 bread had been brought down, and, less than an 
 hour after the first halt, the hunt was resumed, 
 with the horses rested and the hunger of the 
 coyote-drivers appeased. 
 
 It was towards three o'clock when the five- 
 hundred or more people, gathered in a great semi- 
 circle at the point where the foothills debouch into 
 the plain, saw the first slinking form of a coyote. 
 They set up a great shout and the coyote, fright- 
 ened by the noise, made himself scarce. The 
 drivers were close at his heels, however, and pres- 
 ently, by twos and threes, then by fours and 
 fives, coyotes began to show amid the juniper and 
 nut-pine of the foothills, or might be seen streak- 
 ing across the narrow expanse of lush grass which 
 marks the flats of the Little Eio Grande, just be-
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 133 
 
 fore it strikes into the sage-brush plain, and falls 
 in swift rapids into the deep gorge of the Kio 
 Grande. 
 
 Then the watchers, waiting for the culmination 
 of the drive, heard the shouts of the cowboys and 
 riders. The tawny yellow forms of the fugitives 
 now commenced to sprinkle the hills, looking, at a 
 distance, like so many little prairie dogs. The 
 drive was coming to a head. 
 
 The coyotes, panic-stricken by the shouts be- 
 hind, and driven to distraction by the army wait- 
 ing for them ahead, commenced to break away 
 over the foothills on either side. 
 
 Then came Gavan 's opportunity. Setting spurs 
 to his little pony, he clambered up the southern 
 slope of the foothills to head off coyotes which 
 were trying to escape. Others, to right and left 
 of him, followed. On the northern slope, also, the 
 chase was on. 
 
 The coyotes, belly to the ground, started to run, 
 the ponies after them. Here a cowboy, whirling 
 his rope, would catch a coyote and gallop on, after 
 fastening the rope to his horn, dragging the coyote 
 to death over the rough and rocky ground. 
 Others, failing in the throw, would turn the
 
 134 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 coyotes back toward the valley, where, with the 
 drivers behind and the crowd in front, their doom 
 seemed sure. 
 
 The two parties neared each other with a hun- 
 dred or two coyotes between. The mountains re- 
 echoed with the shouting of over five hundred men, 
 to say nothing of the shriller screams of the 
 women and children who had gathered to watch 
 the sport and at the same time, if they could, to 
 aid in the destruction of their common enemy. 
 
 At this point the dogs were loosed. The con- 
 fusion that raged among the coyotes before was 
 now ten times confounded. A desperate mass of 
 dogs and coyotes littered the inner part of the 
 great semicircle. Well was it then that the 
 authorities in charge of the drive had forbidden 
 the use of fire-arms, for assuredly, as many dogs 
 would have been shot as coyotes, and more feuds 
 would have been begun in consequence than it 
 would have taken a century to settle. 
 
 Moreover, while a pack of dogs, hunting in uni- 
 son, is easily master of a coyote, it by no means 
 follows that a single dog is so. As a matter of 
 fact, even with trained dogs, three are none too 
 few to tackle a coyote. Small dogs are useless, 
 most large dogs are too slow. Hence, letting all
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE 135 
 
 sorts of untrained dogs indiscriminately on the 
 coyotes proved more disastrous to the dogs than 
 to the prairie wolves. Though the jaw of a coyote 
 is small not much bigger than that of a fox the 
 quick sidewise snap is terrible in its execution. 
 At the first onslaught, a fair proportion of the 
 dogs gave back howling, with perhaps the whole 
 skin of the side of the head ripped away by the 
 lightning-like snaps of the coyotes as they sped by 
 without slackening speed. 
 
 The confusion of riders behind, men in front and 
 dogs between grew too much for the coyotes. 
 They scattered and spread. Some bolted back 
 among the riders, who were now scattered by 
 reason of the opening out of the valley into the 
 lower foothills, others dashed to the sides of the 
 semicircle where the crowd was thinnest, and 
 others, again, snapping viciously, sped between 
 the legs of the crowd. A club is an excellent 
 weapon, but hard to wield against a fleeting 
 shadow on the ground, going at racing speed. 
 The women and children screamed with fright. 
 Horses attached to buggies commenced to rear and 
 one or two ran away. The crowd, which should 
 have maintained an unbroken front, began to 
 waver, and coyote after coyote, seizing his oppor-
 
 136 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 timity, dived through the melee of legs, hoofs and 
 wheels. 
 
 The sport was fast and furious, the excitement 
 even more intense, but when, a little later, the dead 
 and captured wolves were brought together in the 
 town, only seventeeen were found to have been 
 caught. Four had been roped, seven had been 
 caught with the dogs and six had been clubbed to 
 death. Of the hundred or more coyotes which had 
 been driven out of the valley of the Little Bio 
 Grande during the drive, more than four-fifths had 
 escaped. 1 
 
 * ' Only seventeen coyotes for all that fuss, ' ' said 
 Gavan to the Biological Survey expert that even- 
 ing; "why, I've trapped almost twice as many as 
 that since last spring, and I've been playing in 
 hard luck!" 
 
 The government official nodded in agreement. 
 
 "Getting the coyote pest under control," he 
 answered, "will never be secured by any such 
 haphazard methods as a coyote drive. Like 
 everything worth doing in this world, it is a 
 matter for the expert. The problem of the coyote 
 can only be solved by trapping, and trapping 
 
 i In the Pasture Reserve hunt near Chattanooga, Okla., with 
 150 drivers and 500 "spectators" only eleven wolves were cap- 
 tured. A large number escaped.
 
 Copyright by Alexander Lambert, Al.D. 
 
 LIVE COYOTE GAGGED WITH A HANDKERCHIEF 
 
 Copyright by Alexander Lambert, M.D. 
 
 LIVE COYOTE FORE; DEAD COYOTE AFT. 
 (Both these pictures are from the Roosevelt hunt.)
 
 THE COYOTE DRIVE i 37 
 
 requires skill, understanding and any amount of 
 hard work." 
 
 "Do you think, Mr. Winon," interposed the 
 Forest Supervisor, "that coyotes will ever become 
 extinct in the United States ? ' ' 
 
 "I hope not," was the surprising answer. 
 
 * ' Why I ' ' asked the Supervisor, in surprise. * ' I 
 thought that was exactly what you fellows on the 
 Biological Survey were trying to do." 
 
 "No," answered the Biological Survey expert, 
 "we do not want to make the coyote extinct but to 
 control the pest. Wholesale slaughter is not eco- 
 nomically sound. The coyote is not all evil."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 
 
 "You were saying, Mr. Winon," the Forest 
 Supervisor resumed, when the three had gone up 
 the rickety wooden outside stairs that led to the 
 Supervisor's office, "that the coyote was not 
 wholly evil and that the Government was not try- 
 ing to make the coyote extinct. Just how do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "That's easy enough to see, if you think a 
 moment," the Biological Survey expert answered. 
 "Naturally, it mightn't occur to you at first, any 
 more than it would to the lad, here, for the reason 
 that you're in a cattle country. If the live-stock 
 interests of the United States were the only ones 
 concerned, why, perhaps it would be all right to 
 destroy the coyote ruthlessly. But Uncle Sam 
 can't play favorites. If there is another large 
 industry to which the coyote is valuable, some con- 
 sideration has to be given to it." 
 
 "But the coyote!" exclaimed the Supervisor. 
 138
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 139 
 
 1 'What earthly use can a sneaking no-account 
 creature like that be to any one?" 
 
 The expert turned to Gavan. 
 
 "Can you think of any?" he asked. 
 
 "I was wondering," answered the boy, hesitat- 
 ingly, ' ' if you meant furs ? ' ' 
 
 "That's exactly what I do mean," the expert 
 answered. "The fur industry is not as large as 
 the live-stock industry, nor perhaps is it as essen- 
 tial to the health and happiness of the people of 
 the United States. None the less, it is a legiti- 
 mate industry, with a large capital investment and 
 a recognized place in the commerce of the world. 
 Now, it is estimated that coyotes annually destroy 
 $6,000,000 worth of live stock, principally lambs, 
 calves, and poultry, not counting their terrible 
 destruction of our protected wild game. On the 
 other hand, the cash value of the coyote pelts 
 secured annually is close to $3,000,000." 
 
 "As much as that?" exclaimed the Supervisor, 
 in surprise. 
 
 "At least, perhaps more, with the continued ad- 
 vance in the value of furs. Now we'll agree, if 
 you like, that it's good business to lose $3,000,000 
 to save $6,000,000, but it's not good business to 
 handle the nation's affairs so that even $3,000,000
 
 i 4 o WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 is lost. The problem before the Biological Sur- 
 vey is to relieve the live-stock industry from this 
 loss, and, at the same time, to safeguard the fur 
 interests against the loss that would accrue to 
 them by the extinction of the coyote. For ex- 
 ample, the extinction of the buffalo is not only a 
 loss to science, but it is an economic loss beside. 
 Buffalo robes might well have continued a staple 
 pelt commodity." 
 
 "I should think," put in Gavan, "that the 
 coyotes could be handled by the bounty system." 
 
 "How so, my boy?" inquired the expert. 
 
 "Well, sir," explained Gavan, "as I understand 
 it, under the bounty plan, where the State gives 
 one bounty, the county another and some of the 
 ranchmen a third, coyotes would be cleared out on 
 the ranches and in the sections where they did the 
 most harm, and they would be let alone in 
 sections where they did the least harm. Of course 
 you know better than I how it would work out. ' ' 
 
 The expert smiled at the boy. 
 
 "It looks that way," he answered, "but, as a 
 matter of historical record, the bounty system has 
 turned out to be a thoroughly bad one. It might, 
 perhaps, work well in a world where every one 
 was scrupulously honest and where no one was
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 141 
 
 selfish. Even then, however, it would have its 
 disadvantages. 
 
 "Think for a moment of the principle that lies 
 behind the bounty system. It pays a certain 
 amount of money for evidence that a coyote has 
 been killed. Sometimes only the ears were re- 
 quired, sometimes the scalp, rarely the whole skin. 
 What could be more easy than to substitute the 
 ears of a dog for those of a coyote?" 
 
 "But whoever pays the bounty ought to be able 
 to tell the difference, I should think," Gavan pro- 
 tested. 
 
 "Sometimes," the expert said curtly, "though 
 it's not as easy as you might think. But various 
 States had different methods of paying bounties, 
 and, often enough, the town clerk or some official 
 not well acquainted with animals was the recipient 
 of the skins. Sometimes, too I hate to say this, 
 but it's woefully true the Town Clerk, the local 
 judge and the bounty-claimer were all in partner- 
 ship. Scores, yes hundreds of false claims have 
 been put in, and paid, and the money split up 
 between the three conspirators. Even if only five 
 per cent of the bounty claims made annually were 
 fraudulent, that would mean a lot of money." 1 
 
 1 As much as $200,000 has been expended annually in boun-
 
 142 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "But that's just stealing!" exclaimed Gavan, 
 shocked at the revelation that this graft was so 
 widespread. 
 
 4 'Nothing else," the expert agreed. "But even 
 the misrepresentation wasn't the worst aspect of 
 it. The most injurious part of the bounty system 
 was that it increased the number of animals in- 
 stead of decreasing it. ' ' 
 
 "How so?" asked the boy. 
 
 "Well," the expert explained, "suppose a man 
 was trapping coyote for bounty. He knew the 
 country, he had a good trap line, he had built him- 
 self a comfortable cabin, he had made a number of 
 friends. Naturally, he would like to stay there. 
 Now, if he killed off all the coyotes in the neigh- 
 borhood, he would be cutting off his own living. 
 So, as a matter of custom, every time a bounty- 
 trapper found a female coyote in a trap he set her 
 free. As each female coyote has an annual family 
 that averages about six or seven pups, he was sure 
 of a constant supply. 
 
 "In short, instead of destroying coyotes, he was 
 protecting them, so as to ensure a still larger in- 
 come from bounties the next year. The State, 
 
 ties, by various tates, counties and ranch-owners combined. 
 Kansas, on coyotes alone, in county payments expended $20,000 
 annually.
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 143 
 
 therefore, was paying for the increase of the 
 noxious animals by the very system which was 
 intended to exterminate them. 
 
 " During bounty times, almost 70,000 scalps a 
 year were turned in to the several States infested 
 by coyotes without any appreciable decrease in 
 numbers. Moreover, since less was paid for a pup 
 than for a full-grown coyote, the bounty-seekers 
 would let the young grow up to adult age, without 
 regard to their destructiveness, in order to claim 
 the larger bounty. It is for such reasons as these 
 that the Biological Survey is thoroughly antag- 
 onistic to the bounty system." 
 
 ; * That 's why you Ve started this system of en- 
 gaging expert trappers, then ? ' ' the Forest Super- 
 visor hazarded. 
 
 "Exactly. And," here the expert turned his 
 keen eyes on the boy, "we're all the time looking 
 for good material to train. A first-class trapper 
 is a rarity, because a good trapper has got to be 
 cleverer in the ways of the wild than the animal 
 he is trying to trap. He has got to beat the beast 
 at his own game, and the wild folk put human 
 wisdom to shame in their wise prudence and judi- 
 cious fear of what they don't understand." 
 
 Ga van's heart beat fast.
 
 144 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "I've got a little place, sir," he said, "half- 
 ranch, half -farm, but what I really want to do is 
 trapping. I've I've done a lot of it." 
 
 The expert turned on him with a look of interest. 
 
 "I've been waiting for you to say something 
 about it," he said, "because I've heard that you 
 were engaged in trapping. You seem to have a 
 lot of friends, youngster, and one of the things I 
 planned to do, while here, is to have a chat with 
 you about your work. The Supervisor has writ- 
 ten to me about you and I've made some other 
 inquiries. As I said, we're looking for good 
 material to train. You're too young, yet, of 
 course, to work for the Bureau, but you're not too 
 young to start to get ready for such work. How 
 would you like to be a government trapper?" 
 
 ' * That would be the real thing ! ' ' exclaimed the 
 boy, in quick reply. 
 
 ' ' Well, ' ' the expert continued, ' ' why not ? You 
 saw this coyote drive this afternoon, and you 
 yourself commented on how poor was the result. 
 In fact, you said, if I remember, that you had 
 trapped twice as many coyotes in the season as 
 that who\ hunt had produced." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "That shows that you know something about
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 145 
 
 trapping, though thirty coyotes is not a big catch 
 for an entire season. You ought to be able to do 
 better than that, if the coyotes are numerous 
 around here. Who taught you?" 
 
 "My cousin, sir, Blue Joe Keary; you may 
 have heard of him," said the boy. "And, lately, 
 an Indian has been giving me pointers." 
 
 The expert shook his head. 
 
 "I don't want to seem to criticize your friends," 
 he said, "but the old ways don't work any more. 
 It's a great mistake to suppose that the methods 
 which were effective in frontier days will serve 
 now. Of course, in Alaska, in the Canadian 
 North-West Territories, or wherever game is 
 plentiful and man is scarce, almost any bait set 
 which is not too carelessly made will catch a cer- 
 tain proportion of unwary animals. But the wild 
 folk, gray wolf in particular, learn to fear danger 
 with a quickness that is marvelous. Moreover, 
 they seem to be able to warn their comrades in 
 some way, with the result that a discovered trap 
 set, or an animal which has got away leaving a foot 
 or some toes in the trap, will act as a warning to 
 the entire district." 
 
 "Then how should trapping be done, now?" 
 asked the boy.
 
 146 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "There's not such a very great deal of differ- 
 ence in the main character of the work," the 
 expert answered; "it's principally the difference 
 between slight carelessness and extreme careful- 
 ness, and between only guessing at an animal's 
 habits and knowing them thoroughly. If you've 
 been working with an Indian, you've probably 
 learned a lot about actual following up of a trail, 
 and your eye will have become alert for signs. 
 That is exceedingly important, because, before set- 
 ting a trap for an animal, you must know where 
 the animal is. The other part of the art of trap- 
 ping is just as important. After knowing where 
 the animal is, or is likely to be, you must learn 
 how to catch him. 
 
 "Let me see," he continued, "your place is near 
 theXO, isn't it?" 
 
 "Not more than a mile or two out of the way," 
 Gavan replied. 
 
 "I've got to go to the ranch," said the expert, 
 "to investigate a report of a cattle-killing grizzly 
 which is operating there. The Supervisor, here, 
 will lend me a pony. If you like, I'll ride out with 
 you in the morning, and before I go on to the 
 ranch, I'll give you some ideas about trapping."
 
 
 
 Courtesy of U. S. Forest Service. 
 
 TWO COYOTES TRAPPED AT THE SAME TIME. 
 
 Special trappers are employed on the National Forests to try to keep 
 down the predatory animal pest. 
 
 Courtesy of U. S. Forest Service. 
 
 CATTLE GRAZING ON NATIONAL FOREST IN COLORADO. 
 
 Coyotes are becoming more and more skilful in the slaughter of calv< 
 
 and yearlings. The young of all farm animals are a 
 
 frequent prey, and turkeys, ducks, geese, and 
 
 hens are slain by scores.
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 147 
 
 The boy agreed with great delight and next 
 morning the two rode out together. On reaching 
 the ranch, Gavan showed the expert the improve- 
 ments he had made in the land, and the latter 
 listened with intense interest, closely studying 
 the lad the while. 
 
 1 'And which do you like best, farming, ranching, 
 or trapping?" he asked. 
 
 * ' Oh, trapping, sir ! " the boy answered. * ' Only 
 I don't seem so lucky at it, lately." 
 
 "There's no luck in trapping," the expert an- 
 swered. "It's purely a game of skill. If you 
 are cleverer than the animal, you '11 catch him. If 
 he's cleverer than you are, he'll escape you. It's 
 your wits against his." 
 
 1 ' Then one ought to catch a coyote every time ! 
 We've got more brains than a coyote." 
 
 "Maybe," the expert retorted, "and maybe not. 
 A man's brains may be more developed, but it 
 doesn't follow that he has them concentrated. A 
 man has to think of a lot of things. A coyote has 
 only to figure out how to get a meal and how to 
 save his own skin. In trapping, you must con- 
 centrate your mind on that problem alone, to the 
 expulsion of all others. Then you'll get Mr.
 
 148 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Coyote, mighty nearly every time. It's not the 
 cleverest man that makes the best trapper, but the 
 most concentrated and the most patient. 
 
 "Now, son, there's just two ways to trap. One 
 is to do things wrong so often that by and by you 
 learn what to avoid. That is the old trappers' 
 system. The other is to take advantage of what 
 has already been definitely found out about the 
 animals' habits and to work directly on those with 
 the most improved methods. That 's the scientific 
 way. Of course, it takes experience, even when 
 you know how, to use your knowledge to the fullest 
 advantage, but to begin right means a lot. 
 
 1 1 Tell me, Gavan, do you know any place where 
 the coyotes are scratching?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," the boy answered, "I can take you 
 right to one. Quick Feather showed it to me the 
 other day and baited a trap with pieces of jack- 
 rabbit there." 
 
 "Have you caught anything in that set?" 
 
 * * Just one young one, ' ' the boy answered, ' ' and 
 that was nearly two weeks afterwards. ' ' 
 
 ' l Caught anything there since ? ' ' 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "And you're not likely to. Now, before we
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 149 
 
 start out, I'll show you how to prepare a trap. 
 Have you any wire around?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," the boy answered, "I've got some 
 baling wire." 
 
 "Good. Bring it out to me at the woodpile." 
 
 Gavan went into the house and came out a few 
 minutes later with a stout piece of wire. He 
 found the expert busily shaping a stake with the 
 ax. 
 
 "See here, son," he said, "take a piece of wood 
 about two and a half inches in diameter, after the 
 bark is off. It makes no difference whether the 
 wood is dry or green. Cut if off just about two 
 feet long, though an inch or two more won't make 
 any difference. Don't sharpen it to a point, but 
 shave it down with the ax on both sides so that, 
 from three inches from the top, it gradually 
 tapers to an edge, something like a cold chisel. 
 Three inches from the top whittle it with your 
 knife gradually upwards for two inches, so as to 
 make a shoulder on the pin. One inch from the 
 top, the shoulder should end, with a collar abso- 
 lutely straight all round. Then take a piece of 
 wire, this way," he illustrated, "and with a pair 
 of pliers wrap it around the pin three times, just
 
 150 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 under the collar, so that it will fit fairly snugly. 
 It ought to fit snugly enough, so that there is no 
 chance of its slipping over the collar of the pin, 
 and at the same time, loose enough so that it will 
 slide easily around the shoulder." 
 
 "What's that for, sir?" asked the boy. 
 
 "That's to act as a swivel," the expert ex- 
 plained. "When the chain of the trap is fastened 
 to that stake, and the stake is driven down clear 
 to the head, an animal, if caught in it, can't pinch 
 the trap and twist his leg out of it. Every time 
 he jerks around, the wire will revolve with him. 
 He hasn't half the chance to pull the pin out 
 that he would if there were no play on the chain. 
 
 "Now, as you see, that leaves only an inch 
 of wood above this swivel. If you leave it that 
 way, and the coyote jerks hard enough, the wood 
 might split above the collar and the wire would 
 slip off. So, half an inch from the top, notch the 
 wood with your knife, not very deeply, perhaps a 
 quarter to a half an inch deep, and wrap another 
 piece of wire around, twisting it tightly with the 
 pliers. That will hold the head of the stake solid 
 so that it won't split when you're driving it, and 
 so that there 's no chance of the coyote splitting a
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 151 
 
 piece of the collar off in his frantic jumps. A 
 well-made pin like that will last you a long time, 
 unless the end of it becomes too much used up by 
 being driven into the ground. Besides which, 
 stakes can be found anywhere and your pins will 
 cost you nothing. Fasten the chain of the trap to 
 the stake by a stout wire and you needn't be 
 afraid of the coyote pulling away. That's not 
 so much trouble, is it?" 
 
 "No, sir, the boy replied, "that's easy enough. 
 But why is the stake better than fastening the trap 
 to a bush or a clog!" 
 
 "I'll tell you," the expert answered. "In the 
 first place, suppose the trap is fastened to a bush. 
 You can't always find a bush growing exactly 
 where you'd want it, and even if you do, it is 
 necessary to disturb a great deal more ground to 
 hide your chain. Then, when you catch your 
 coyote, he's got a straight drag on the bush. He 
 may run around the bush a few times, he probably 
 will, in fact, winding the chain round the bush, 
 and that gives him a strong purchase by which he 
 can twist his foot out of the trap, or maybe, gnaw 
 his leg off. Now, with a swivel, each time that the 
 coyote jumps, the swivel turns a little. That's
 
 152 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 apt to make the animal think that his chain is 
 giving and he will keep at it. Also, he has no 
 real purchase on which to twist." 
 
 "How about the clog, then!" asked the boy. 
 
 "Lots of old trappers use a clog," the expert 
 answered, "and many of them have a great deal 
 of success with it. But, son, those trappers are 
 generally men who are working in the densest 
 forests or the least inhabited places, looking for 
 fur. What you're trying to do is to trap coyotes 
 in a section where they're getting shy. 
 
 "There's a pile of difference between going to 
 an out-of-the-way place to trap beasts for fur, and 
 staying right down near a ranch trapping wary 
 animals to get rid of them as predatory nuisances. 
 You're dealing with the most difficult end of the 
 problem, they, ivith the easiest. 
 
 "Now, son, that we've got the stakes ready, if 
 you'll trot out the ponies, we'll go along." 
 
 The expert swung himself into the saddle, taking 
 with him the small bundle wrapped up in canvas, 
 that he had brought from town. Gavan guided 
 the expert directly to the place where the Indian 
 had shown him before. Without dismounting 
 from the saddle, the government man eyed it 
 carefully.
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 153 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I think this place ought to be 
 all right. Now watch, Gavan, and observe exactly 
 what I do. Don't miss a detail, if you can help 
 it." 
 
 The expert then unwrapped the canvas. It 
 was of good size and contained a second small 
 bundle tied around with a piece of buckskin. 
 
 "First of all," he said, " I throw this canvas 
 down on the ground, being sure that it falls al- 
 ways on the same side. Most of your labor will 
 be wasted if you don't observe that small pre- 
 caution. Then, dismount from your pony so that 
 your feet come on the piece of canvas. Thus, the 
 under side of the canvas will never have come in 
 contact with your feet. In rolling it up, as I will 
 show you, don 't touch the under side. ' ' 
 
 "That's so as to prevent the smell of your boots 
 and hands?" the boy queried. 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "But I've seen some of the trappers smear the 
 fat from an animal on the soles of their shoes. 
 Doesn't that act as well to disguise the Man- 
 smell?" 
 
 "You're trapping for coyote," the expert re- 
 minded him. * ; Every strange smell that a trapper 
 leaves behind him, whether it be of man or another
 
 154 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 animal, is likely to make the coyote suspicious. 
 You need to remember, too, that one essential 
 point is keeping things dry. If your hands are 
 absolutely dry and without grease, if the ground 
 were absolutely dry, you could walk about and 
 handle the trap without much danger of leaving a 
 smell. But neither your hands nor your boots 
 are ever exactly dry. On the other hand, the 
 canvas is dry, and while, if you lay on it for an 
 hour, your smell would go through and impreg- 
 nate the ground, it won't do so during the ten 
 minutes or so that it takes to set a trap. 
 
 "Now," he continued, unfastening the little 
 bundle, tied with a thong of buckskin, "I keep in 
 this a pair of gloves. Any kind of heavy gloves 
 will do, but buckskin is the best. Don't take a 
 glove with dye or dressing on it, just a plain glove. 
 Use them for nothing but setting traps, and don 't 
 keep them on your hands one minute longer than 
 necessary. Herein, too, is a small ax. 
 
 "First of all we must decide exactly where to 
 dig the hole for the trap, choosing the site at one 
 side of the registering place, at just about the 
 place the coyote would stand to use the smell tele- 
 phone. Now, Gavan, on which side of this little 
 bush ought I to put the trap?"
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 155 
 
 The boy thought for a moment. 
 
 "I don't see that it makes much difference," he 
 said. 
 
 The expert smiled. 
 
 "Oh, yes, it does," he answered. "Think for 
 a minute of your telephone. You have to stand 
 in front of it, don't you, to talk into the trans- 
 mitter?" 
 
 "Sure!" 
 
 "Well, there's a transmitter here," the expert 
 continued. "A coyote always comes up to an 
 object from leeward. He will trust nothing that 
 he has not tested out with his nose. So, to set 
 a trap properly, you have to go to find out what 
 is the prevailing wind. Every section of this 
 country has the wind from one quarter more often 
 than from the others. Here, in New Mexico, in 
 this valley, the prevailing wind is from the south 
 or the south-west. Where should the trap be, 
 then?" 
 
 "To the north or the north-east," the boy 
 answered. 
 
 "And which way lies north-east?" 
 
 The boy looked at the sun. 
 
 "It must be half -past ten o'clock," he figured, 
 * l so that the north should be that way. ' '
 
 156 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Then we'll put the trap on that side. And, if 
 you'll look at the ground closely, Gavan, you'll 
 see there are coyote tracks on that side of the 
 bush. Are there any on the other?" 
 
 "No," said the boy, peering at the ground, "I 
 don't see any." 
 
 "Then we're on the right side for sure. Now 
 we'll dig the hole. And," he added, "be careful 
 how you take up the ground." 
 
 He knelt on the canvas. 
 
 "First of all," the expert said, "I scrape up 
 with my gloved hand all the loose dirt and twigs 
 that lie on top of the ground. That I put on the 
 canvas to my left. Then I loosen up the top 
 ground with the ax and scrape it, making 
 a depth of about an inch, not more. I scoop up 
 that soil and put it to my right. Then with the 
 ax I cut the hole just the depth I need, perhaps 
 two and a half inches for a trap of this size. 
 Shape the hole angle-wise, like the wings of a big 
 bird flying, as the jaws will sit better than if the 
 springs are out straight. The soil from that hole 
 I put between my knees. This may all seem un- 
 necessary to you, Gavan, but I'll show you in a 
 minute that it means a lot. 
 
 "Then we put the trap in the hole just about
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 157 
 
 the distance that a coyote would stand to register, 
 setting the pan fairly firmly, so that if a bird 
 should happen to hop across on the earth above, 
 it would not spring it. Next, taking the earth 
 that I had put between my knees, I sprinkle it 
 back in the hold, carefully filling in until it is level 
 with the pan. With this small twig, however, 
 which I always carry, and which is bent, as you 
 see, I carefully scrape the dirt from under the 
 pan." 
 
 "To keep it from filling underneath," the boy 
 agreed. "I do that, too." 
 
 * * Every good trapper must, otherwise when the 
 animal steps on the pan, it would not go down 
 far enough to release the catch and let the springs 
 work. Then I take the soil that I have put on 
 the right hand and sprinkle some of it over 
 everything until all is covered except the pan. 
 
 "Now, Gavan," he said, "here's another trick 
 you may not know. What do you generally put 
 on the pan, to keep the dirt from falling around 
 and under it?" 
 
 "I use paper," said the boy, "but Quick Feather 
 used leaves." 
 
 "Leaves are better than paper," the expert said, 
 "because paper is manufactured and smells of
 
 158 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 the factory, but I use something which is better 
 than either. I carry a lot of them with me, all 
 cut to the proper size. They are just pieces of 
 thin sacking, which has half rotted and has been 
 lying on the ground exposed to all weathers. 
 
 "Anything rotted will do, an old shirt or rag. 
 A good trapper will wash his discarded rags and 
 spread them where the sun and rain will beat on 
 them. Nothing that I know of seems to absorb 
 so exactly the earth smell. 
 
 "Not only does paper never get that odor, for 
 it will decay first, but the worst of paper is that 
 when the animal steps on the pan, the paper 
 rustles. Sometimes a coyote's ears are so quick 
 that in the fraction of a second that elapses be- 
 tween his touching the pan and the snapping of 
 the springs, the rustle of the paper will give him a 
 chance to jump and he'll be caught only by one 
 toe and so wiggle his way out. That's why I use 
 earth-rotted cloth. 
 
 "Now, with the pan covered, I take the top soil 
 which I had placed to the left and sprinkle that 
 over until the trap is entirely hidden. Do you see 
 why I divide the earth in this way?" 
 
 "No, sir," the boy said, "not exactly." 
 
 "Because subsoil has a fresher smell than
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 159 
 
 earth which has been exposed to the sun. It's 
 true that half an hour after you leave a trap, 
 even if you left some damp soil exposed, the 
 sun would dry it, so that it would look all right. 
 But the fresh deep-earth smell would be there and 
 Mr. Coyote would know that all was not right. 
 How could surface soil smell like subsoil? 
 Lastly we sprinkle back over the smoothened 
 earth the twigs and surface material that was 
 there before. ' ' 
 
 He completed the job and then leaned back 
 on his haunches. 
 
 "Now, Gavan," he said, "how does it look to 
 you?" 
 
 The boy leaned over from the saddle and ex- 
 amined the ground carefully. There was not a 
 sign to show that the earth had been moved. 
 
 "It looks great!" he declared appreciatively. 
 "It's what I call a perfect set." 
 
 The expert shook his head at him sadly. 
 
 "You've got to get your eyes better trained than 
 that," he said. "Look at the way these light bits 
 of grass are lying," he pointed to the ground 
 where the trap was hidden, "and then at these," 
 pointing to a piece a foot away. 
 
 "They look the same to me," said Gavan.
 
 160 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 . . i 
 
 ' They 're not, ' ' said the expert. ' * We said that 
 the prevailing wind was south-west, didn't we? 
 Then dust and very light particles would lie more 
 or less in the direction of the wind. See, now, 
 I'll take this small piece of canvas, in which 
 my tools were wrapped up, and wave it vigorously 
 over the dust a few times. That will give it the 
 effect of a wind-whipped place, and now," he 
 added, when he had suited the action to the words, 
 "I think it would take a pretty keen-nosed coyote 
 to smell anything and a keen-eyed coyote to see 
 anything. 
 
 "Last of all," he concluded, "comes the bait." 
 
 The expert took from the bundle a small bottle 
 (it had been a bottle for mouth-wash once) and 
 jerked a few drops of liquid on the leaves of the 
 little shrub. 
 
 "Not too much of it," he warned, "or the scent 
 will be too strong. We are just doing what the 
 coyote does, leaving a message on the smell tele- 
 phone. He will be as sure to come up to that, 
 as the average man is sure to want his morning 
 newspaper. He wants the news of the neighbor- 
 hood. 
 
 "Then, having smelt our message which may 
 puzzle him a little he puts his own message there,
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 161 
 
 and in moving around to do so, places his foot in 
 the trap. Thus Mr. Coyote is caught, and the 
 farmers in the neighborhood will be less impov- 
 erished in the matter of lambs and poultry." 
 
 "When we get back to your cabin," he con- 
 tinued, "I'll give you some bait out of this bottle 
 and tell you just how to make it for yourself. 1 
 And, Gavan, if you'll set your traps just the way 
 you've seen me do, it's a pretty sure bet that 
 you'll catch twice as many coyotes as before. The 
 work is needed, too, for the losses due to coyotes 
 are getting very heavy." 
 
 "Do coyotes destroy so much stock?" the boy 
 queried. 
 
 "The damage last year," said the expert, "was 
 estimated at $6,000,000 in the Western States. 
 And I suppose if one were to add all the losses, 
 here and there, due to the coyote but not directly 
 traced to him, such as game, it wouldn't be far 
 out to say that the coyote causes to the farmers, 
 live-stock and sheep raisers of the U. S. not less 
 than eight million dollars annually. 
 
 i As the making of this coyote bait requires certain processes 
 upon a dead animal, the writer thinks it better not to enter 
 into details for the general reader. The Bureau of Biological 
 Survey, however, will be glad to give details to any one inter- 
 ested in coyote-trapping.
 
 162 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "In many large sections of the West, sheep- 
 raising, which was once one of the most profitable 
 industries, has been abandoned, simply because 
 the coyotes are numerous, large and fond of 
 mutton. Montana, three times the size of Eng- 
 land, and with something like forty times the 
 available area for sheep-raising, raises only one- 
 fifth of the sheep that England does. Why? Be- 
 cause of the coyote. In England every farmer or 
 or landowner can have a flock of sheep. In 
 Montana the only way in which sheep can be 
 kept is in immense herds, with herders on the 
 watch all the time to escape possible loss. 
 
 "I remember, myself, once, when I was camp- 
 ing near Bozeman, in Montana, a flock of about 
 4,000 sheep passed by and camped a little farther 
 on. That night a band of coyotes they don't 
 usually run in bands either, but generally two 
 or at the most, three ran into the sheep and 
 stampeded them. Nearly 500 sheep were driven 
 over the bluffs, while several score others limped 
 into neighbors' barnyards, days after, with their 
 flanks half torn to pieces. 
 
 "Don't forget, Gavan, that the coyote is a killer, 
 first and last. Poultry are a choice tidbit. In 
 the West, where the fowls range at large, a cer-
 
 Courtesy of U. S. Forest Service. 
 
 COYOTE TRAPPED BY FOREST RANGER. 
 Several different Government bureaus are engaged in the stern task of 
 
 keeping down predatory wild animals. 
 
 Courtesy of U. S. Forest Service. 
 
 HALF A MILLION SHEEP DESTROYED BY COYOTES YEARLY. 
 Over large parts of the South-West, the wool industry is crippled ; fenc- 
 ing is the sole protection, and the cost of fencing is 
 almost prohibitive.
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 163 
 
 tain proportion must be regarded as certain of 
 loss by coyotes. Turkeys, which range far afield 
 in search of grasshoppers and other insects, are 
 frequent victims. In Idaho, coyotes have taken to 
 entering the hen-roosts. One man lost 90 hens 
 in two nights. Young pigs have no chance. 
 Even the house cat, an animal generally well able 
 to defend herself, is snapped up and eaten by 
 coyotes. 
 
 "On the live-stock ranches a great many calves 
 are killed. The coyotes seem to know when a calf 
 is going to be born and they lie in the grass and 
 watch the mother. After the birth, when the cow 
 goes to the nearest water-hole for a drink and is 
 compelled to leave the new-born calf, as yet un- 
 able to walk, the coyotes rush in and kill it. 
 Calves several months old are easy game, and even 
 yearlings are killed if they are a little distance 
 from the herd. 
 
 "Any one who is trapping coyotes, Gavan, is 
 doing a good work for his country. Interesting 
 though the little animal may be, he has got to 
 be kept under control. I don't say exterminated, 
 for the coyote eats a lot of rabbits and other 
 rodents such as prairie dogs, which are highly in- 
 jurious to the farmer. But, so far as the cattle
 
 164 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 and sheep industry is concerned, the coyote has 
 got to go. Either that, or the sheep-raisers will 
 have to be willing to fence." 
 
 1 ' Why don 't they f " the boy asked. " I've often 
 thought about that. I should think fencing would 
 settle everything." 
 
 "So it would," the expert answered, "but 
 fencing costs money. It's no use putting up a 
 poor fence. To start with, a dot-and-carry-one 
 fence, a couple of feet high, will keep a coyote 
 out the first year. But, next season, he will have 
 found out the way to jump it. That is dangerous, 
 for one coyote will teach the trick to another, and 
 although coyotes do not seem to understand jump- 
 ing naturally, they take to it quite readily. 
 
 "It is much more important to make a coyote 
 fence-proof against the animals crawling under or 
 working their way through than against jumping. 
 That necessity means not only a very complete 
 fence, but also a very solidly built one. It means 
 a fence that is anchored to the ground. It means 
 a woven-wire fence with a mesh less than 5 by 5 
 inches and preferably triangular. The wire 
 should be 40 inches in height supplemented by 
 two or three barbed wires above it 5 inches apart,
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 165 
 
 and one barbed wire on the bottom to prevent dig- 
 ging." 
 
 "But wouldn't a fence like that cost a lot?" the 
 boy asked. 
 
 "It does cost enormously," was the reply. 
 "It depends on locality and cost of labor and a 
 heap of other factor?, but I should say that 
 $300 a mile would cover it. Now, a section of 
 land contains 640 acres and is exactly a mile 
 square. It would need four miles of fencing, 
 therefore, to take in so small a bit of land. If it 
 were irregular in shape, probably the fencing 
 length would be at least fifty per cent. more. A 
 ranch of 640 acres, therefore, would need six miles 
 of fence. But ranches of 6,400 acres are consid- 
 ered small, and even ranches of 64,000 acres are 
 by no means rare. In the latter case the fence 
 might need to be as long as 50 miles, if its shape 
 was sufficiently irregular. Even if absolutely 
 square, the fence would need to be 40 miles in 
 length. 
 
 "Now a good coyote-proof fence, especially in 
 broken country, where it is necessary to run up 
 and down hills, over rocky and stony slopes, 
 through gullies apt to be suddenly filled with flood-
 
 1 66 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 streams and which would need damming and the 
 like, could not be built for much less than the 
 $300 per mile I mentioned. To fence such a 
 ranch would mean an outlay of at least $15,000. 
 Not every ranchman has that cash capital to in- 
 vest, and, even if he did invest it, a good many 
 years would pass before he would get the money 
 back in profits from the ranch. 
 
 " Moreover, a fence has to be kept in repair. 
 Not all p'eople are regardful of their neighbors' 
 fences. Tourists, especially, are frequent tres- 
 passers. They lose their way, come to a fence, 
 and, seeing an old but now unused trail going 
 through on the other side, will cut the wire. Few 
 will take the trouble to repair it again, and in 
 any case, even with the best intention, they could 
 not repair it as solidly as it was before. Many 
 others, mainly motorists, will go through a gate 
 and, because it looks as though there were not a 
 habitation for miles, will leave the gate open. 
 
 "The world has not all become honest, either, 
 and there are always some people on the watch 
 for maverick or unbranded cattle, which, of course, 
 can only be taken off the ranch by breaking 
 through the fence. 
 
 "Slides, also, or small landslips, caused by
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 167 
 
 wash-outs, will displace and tear down a fence, and 
 the same wash-outs will rip through a little gully 
 no bigger than an irrigation ditch and scoop the 
 ground away so that the fence is left high and 
 dry, perhaps the lowest wires a couple of feet 
 in the air. Nine times out of ten the coyote finds 
 this out sooner than the ranchman does, and 5 be- 
 fore the fence is repaired, two or three or maybe 
 half-a-dozen coyotes are inside the fence. 
 
 * * Now, on a ranch of 64,000 acres, in rough and 
 broken country, there are innumerable places for 
 coyotes to hide, especially if the ranch includes 
 some mountainous as well as prairie country. 
 Unless those coyotes get trapped that season, 
 which is quite improbable, next April each pair 
 of coyotes will have from four to nine pups. 
 
 "It is easy to see that the fence is no longer 
 any protection, and that hunting has to begin 
 again, inside the fence, otherwise the coyotes will 
 flourish there, and, having domesticated and fence- 
 trained flocks at their disposal, they will find a 
 mutton or veal dinner easy to get, will develop 
 the taste for it, and abandon their staple foods 
 of jack-rabbit, ground-squirrel, prairie-dog, kan- 
 garoo-rat, pocket-gopher, and field-mice the de- 
 struction of which is beneficial to man for
 
 1 68 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 what they probably regard as a more delicate diet. 
 
 "So fencing, you see, Gavan, not only requires 
 to be very exactly done, but also, it must be fre- 
 quently examined every week or so, preferably 
 and every break must be instantly repaired. 
 On a 100,000-acre ranch, over rough country, it 
 will take one man's time to keep the fence in 
 constant repair. His wages for a year, though, 
 will be but a fraction of the amount that would 
 be caused by predatory animal losses. 
 
 " Since, however, the government cannot de- 
 mand from every rancher that he construct a 
 fence of such expense and magnitude, it follows 
 that we have to try to mitigate the predatory 
 animal nuisance by trapping. As that, however, 
 gives the rodents an opportunity to increase, since 
 their natural enemies are destroyed, in con- 
 sequence we have to wage continual war on prairie 
 dogs and the like, to keep the balance even. This 
 work is mainly done by poisoning. 
 
 "Now, son," he continued, as they reached the 
 cabin, "if you'll trot out whatever grub you have 
 ready, we '11 take a quick lunch and then I '11 show 
 you exactly how to make that scent bait. After 
 that, I must make tracks for the XO. But if, in 
 your trapping, you '11 observe carefully what I told
 
 THE SMELL TELEPHONE 169 
 
 you, do everything in that way and no other, never 
 neglect the slightest precaution, and make your 
 sets at scratching-places or smell-telephone sta- 
 tions, you can count on success three times out of 
 four, and you'll clear this section of coyotes." 
 
 ' 'I want to do that," said the boy, "because I've 
 rather pledged myself to," and he explained the 
 arrangement that he had made with the ranch 
 boss, with regard to the feeding of his bunch of 
 cattle. 
 
 The expert nodded. 
 
 "Good," he said. "And what's more, Gavan, 
 when I see McLeod, our grizzly-bear hunter, at the 
 camp to-morrow, I'll tell him that I've given you 
 permission to visit and stay at the camp a while 
 this fall and that he's to tell you all he knows. 
 It's no use leaving your trip until too late, though, 
 because, as you know, the winter snows are so 
 heavy on the Sangre de Cristo that trapping can't 
 be carried on. The lines are too long and the 
 country too rough to be handled on snowshoes, 
 while the drifts are too deep for a pony. You 
 don't know much about bears, do you?" 
 
 "No, sir," answered the boy. 
 
 "I thought not. Well, Gavan, bears are even 
 harder to savvy and to trap than coyotes. The
 
 170 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Indians say that the coyote is a sk} spirit having 
 a little fun, and that a black bear is a mis- 
 chievous paleface boy in a fur overcoat, but, if 
 that's so, I reckon the paleface boy has a heap 
 more brains than the Indian's fun-seeking sky 
 spirit. Coyote-trapping is just good practice, but 
 bear takes real thinking. Maybe, sometime, you 
 may be able to graduate into the most difficult 
 field of all trapping. ' ' 
 
 "What's that, sir?" asked the boy. 
 
 "The gray wolf, son," answered the expert, 
 leaning down from his pony to shake hands. 
 "Keep at it, and some of these days you'll reach 
 the pinnacle of your profession and trap an outlaw 
 lobo." 
 
 Gavan looked up quickly. 
 
 "There's one thing harder than that, sir," he 
 said. 
 
 This time it was the turn of the expert to be 
 interested. 
 
 "And what's that?" he said. 
 
 "Trapping a werewolf, sir," the boy replied.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THANKS to a willingness to learn and to an exact 
 following out of the instruction of the Biological 
 Survey official, Gavan became so expert at trap- 
 ping coyotes, that the Indians of the near-by 
 pueblo, with many of whom the bey was 
 good friends, nicknamed him "Coyote- Smeller." 
 Whereas, before, he had thought himself lucky 
 if he only caught a coyote a week, now he consid- 
 ered himself clumsy if he failed to get at least one 
 a day. 
 
 It was not only that Gavan had become a good 
 coyote-trapper, but he had learned a still more im- 
 portant lesson, that failure was not a matter of 
 luck but of skill. Formerly, he blamed that blind 
 force known as chance for his failures, whereas 
 now he blamed his own lack of skill and set him- 
 self to find out the "why" of every trap set that 
 failed to bring results. 
 
 The ranch boss of the XO, so far as his grim 
 171
 
 172 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 nature would permit, was very enthusiastic over 
 the successes of his "ward," as he delighted in 
 speaking of Gavan. There had been considerable 
 loss on the XO Ranch during the late autumn, 
 after the berries had gone, but the coyotes were 
 not held responsible for this. Bear sign was 
 plentiful, and McLeod, rather than Gavan, was 
 the one to worry. The increase of Gavan 's herd 
 had been entirely satisfactory, and the boy had 
 not lost a single calf or yearling from his little 
 bunch. 
 
 Late in the fall, Gavan, going over his trap 
 line, found in one of his Newhouse No. 3 's, a large 
 stout, broad and flat animal, with a depressed and 
 clumsy-looking body, short stout legs, bear-like 
 feet, with five clearly marked toes armed with 
 powerful curved claws. Although the boy had 
 never seen the animal before, the claws told the 
 story. They were too long and too powerful 
 merely to be used for attack or defense. 
 Obviously, they were digging claws. Equally 
 obviously, the animal was a badger, not the true 
 silver-gray badger with the white face of the 
 western grass-plains, but the smaller, yellower, 
 and more vicious Mexican species, which makes 
 its home in the sage-brush plains.
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 173 
 
 As always, when in doubt, Gavan made his way 
 to Quick Feather. 
 
 1 1 What ought I to do about it, Quick Feather?" 
 he asked. "Set him free, or kill him? Is the 
 pelt any good for fur?" 
 
 The Indian shook his head. 
 
 "Southern badger no good," he said; "only 
 northern badger in the middle of winter is good 
 fur. But I buy him from you." 
 
 "What for?" asked the boy. 
 
 1 * I buy him, ' ' the Indian repeated. ' ' I give you 
 a dollar for him." 
 
 "I don't want your money, Quick Feather," 
 Gavan answered. "You've done a thousand dif- 
 ferent favors for me. Of course you can have 
 the skin! I'll knock him on the head and bring 
 you the pelt to-morrow, because I suppose you 
 want to tan the hide with brains, in the Indian 
 way." 
 
 "No kill him," the Indian replied. "I come 
 myself and get him from trap. I pay you that 
 dollar, just same." 
 
 "No," said Gavan, decidedly. 
 
 "I buy badger," persisted the Indian. "I give 
 you two bits, if no want dollar." 
 
 Gavan hesitated. He knew that Quick Feather
 
 174 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 would not be so insistent unless there were some 
 reason for it, and the boy had had enough ex- 
 perience with Indians to know that no white man 
 ever understands more than about one-half of the 
 things his red friends may be thinking. 
 
 "All right," he said, "if you want to give two 
 bits for the critter, come along. You want to have 
 him alive?" 
 
 "I want him in trap," the Indian persisted. 
 
 "He won't make much of a pet," rejoined the 
 lad, thinking of the cruelly long claws. 
 
 "I want him in trap," persisted Quick Feather, 
 and went out to throw a saddle blanket on his 
 pony. 
 
 Gavan said no more, and the two rode silently 
 together along the well-worn trail between the 
 pueblo and the boy's little adobe cabin. 
 
 Arrived at the trap, Quick Feather's actions 
 became mysterious. He took from the bosom of 
 his shirt a long piece of cloth, and a handful of 
 leaves. Then, unfastening his saddle blanket, he 
 threw it over the badger, effectively preventing 
 the animal from using teeth and claws. 
 
 Then, holding the badger on the ground with his 
 knees, Quick Feather released the animal from the
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 175 
 
 trap and, taking the long piece of cloth, proceeded 
 to bandage the badger's leg, where it had been 
 caught by the trap, using the leaves as a medicinal 
 dressing. The wounds were not serious, for the 
 badger has a stouter leg than any animal of its 
 size, even bigger than that of the stocky Canada 
 lynx, and beside, a badger's hide is one of the 
 toughest known to natural history. 
 
 "Get in the saddle," he said to Gavan, when 
 this was finished. 
 
 Then, as soon as the boy was seated. Quick 
 Feather whipped the covering from off the body 
 of the badger, slung the blanket on his pony, and, 
 old though he was, mounted with one spring. 
 
 It was easy to see why. 
 
 The Mexican badger, foaming at the lips with 
 rage, snapped viciously. The ponies, like most 
 western horses, able to take care of themselves, 
 jumped back. 
 
 Then the Indian, leaning over the infuriated 
 animal, chanted a score of words in his own 
 tongue, and, without another backward look, 
 turned his horse away, leaving the badger free. 
 He took a buckskin bag from his pocket, handed 
 Gavan the 25 cents that had been agreed upon,
 
 176 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 wrapped his white sheet around his head and 
 shoulders so that only his eyes showed, and rode 
 back solemnly along the trail. 
 
 When a sufficient length of time had passed, 
 Gavan, who had been burning with curiosity, 
 blurted out, 
 
 "What did you do that for, Quick Feather! 
 Is the Badger good medicine?" 
 
 "Badger is good medicine to me," the Indian 
 answered; "I will tell you. 
 
 "When I young boy, I play often with another 
 boy. He son of my father's sister." 
 
 "Why, you mean the one who is lieutenant- 
 governor of the pueblo now?" asked Gavan, for 
 he was almost as well acquainted with the politics 
 of the pueblo as with the affairs of the State 
 yes, even better. 
 
 "No," the Indian answered, "brother of lieu- 
 tenant-governor. Medicine man." 
 
 The boy understood the life of the Pueblo 
 Indians sufficiently to know that this latter posi- 
 tion did not mean as much as it would among the 
 hunting tribes, such as the Sioux. The pueblo 
 government is very completely organized. The 
 governor and the lieutenant-governor are respon- 
 sible for the relation of the pueblo to the U. S.
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 177 
 
 Government and to the outside world, the chief 
 (a life position by election) is in charge of tribal 
 affairs such as the various secret societies and 
 is the historian of the tribe; the Priest, a 
 hereditary position, controls all the ceremonial 
 dances and is the repository of tribal secrets, and 
 the council, consisting of the ex-governors and ex- 
 lieutenant-governors (whose terms of office are 
 only for one year) looks after the cleanliness and 
 order of the pueblo. 
 
 No modern American city can compare for a 
 moment with the cleanliness and care of an Indian 
 pueblo. No New England kitchen is in the same 
 class with the interior of a pueblo house. The 
 council, also, acts as a judicial tribunal for minor 
 offenses. The medicine men are the doctors of 
 the pueblo, though their importance has greatly 
 diminished since the U. S. Government has ap- 
 pointed a doctor to each pueblo. Among the older 
 men and women, however, the medicine man is 
 consulted more freely than the white doctor. 
 
 "When I small," continued Quick Feather, 
 "I play arrow and hoop with boy, he different 
 from me. Different from all other boys. In 
 middle of game, he cry 'I see bird!' or 'I see bat!' 
 Eight away he follow that bird, or bat, or wolf."
 
 178 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "How old were you then?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "Seven years," the Indian answered. "One 
 morning, playing hoop and arrow, Boy called, 
 
 " 'I see sage-grouse!' 
 
 "Like always he ran off to follow. 
 
 "Night came. Boy not back in pueblo. Next 
 day, Boy not back in pueblo. Not back next day. 
 Chief say Boy dead. My father's sister said: 
 
 " 'No, not dead. Boy friend of spirits of 
 animals. Spirits of animals watch him. Boy will 
 come back. ' 
 
 "One Indian in pueblo, my father's s::ter not 
 like. He fond of firewater too much, think town 
 better than pueblo. Tom, bad Indian. 1 Soon 
 after Boy lost, Tom, coming back to pueblo from 
 hunt, saw two badgers. Often seen Badger before. 
 This time, Badger run at him, instead of running 
 away into hole. 
 
 "Tom rode away. Indian not kill badgers, be- 
 cause badgers eat prairie-dogs, gophers, and mice, 
 which spoil crops. Badger good friend to Indian. 
 
 i Nearly all the Pueblo Indians are Roman Catholics, and 
 quite devout. They are most of them baptized and given Christian 
 names. Often, one Indian, talking of another he does not like, 
 will give his white name; if an Indian he respects, he gives the 
 Indian name.
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 179 
 
 Tom think hard about Badger running at him. 
 More he think, more angry he get. Tom decided 
 to kill Badger. 
 
 "Bad thought. Badger no harm to Tom. To 
 kill for food, good; to kill for anger, not good. 
 
 ' ' Tom go back to den, see biggest Badger, shoot 
 and kill. Tom go home, pleased. Good Spirit 
 not pleased. Hear! 
 
 "Boy had followed sage-grouse until dark, 
 then want to go back to pueblo. Too far. Boy 
 young, legs tired. Stomach very empty. Too 
 dark. Boy could not see way. Too little to know 
 stars. Boy lie down on ground, go to sleep. 
 
 "Next morning, Boy find Badger sniffing round 
 him. Boy friend to spirits of animals, know 
 Badger friendly, stay and play with Badger. 
 Boy very tired and weak. By and by, Badger 
 go away, come back with eggs of grouse, carry- 
 ing eggs unbroken in mouth. 
 
 "Boy understand, break and suck eggs. 
 
 "Then Badger, making little grunts, shuffle 
 down hill. Boy understand spirits of animals, fol- 
 low. Hundred paces away, little spring. Boy 
 drink long time, very thirsty. 
 
 "Boy want to go back pueblo. Too tired and
 
 i8o WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 weak. Two grouse eggs very little food for 
 hungry boy, so went back badger den, fall asleep 
 on ground by den. 
 
 "Boy asleep, Badger claw at walls of den until 
 hole big enough for boy to crawl in. Boy sleep 
 till sun high in sky. When Boy wake, piece of 
 wild bee honeycomb near him. Boy eat honey- 
 comb, go to spring, take another drink. 
 
 "Again Boy look far away to blue mountains 
 where pueblo. Boy understand spirits of animals, 
 now know Badger very lonely. Badger's spirit 
 tell him all Badger's little babies dead, killed by 
 wash-out. Boy very sorry for Badger. 
 
 "You think animals cannot talk?" continued 
 Quick Feather, noting a look of incredulity on 
 Ga van's face. "You talk with your eyes, with 
 your hands, with jumps of body!" 
 
 And he went on with the story. 
 
 "Boy need more to eat than baby badgers. 
 Boy not like mice and beetles brought by Badger. 
 Once Badger brought young chicken. Boy ate 
 raw. Boy learned, by and by, to eat squirrel 
 raw. 
 
 "Boy live with Badger from young moon to old 
 moon. 
 
 "One day, Tom, riding near where killed old
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 181 
 
 Badger, see near Badger den, something moving, 
 bigger than Badger. Tom, bad Indian, but not 
 coward. Ride up close. 
 
 "Tom see Boy. Tom know Indians of pueblo 
 hunt boy long time. Tom speak to Boy, but Boy 
 hiss and snarl like Badger and creep backwards 
 into den. 
 
 "Tom very vain, want to have other Indians 
 praise him for finding Boy. Beach into den after 
 Boy, grab by hair of head, pull him out, Badger 
 following very angry. Tom not wait for Badger, 
 sling Boy in front of saddle, leap on pony. Boy 
 hit and bit with teeth, but Tom run pony hard to 
 pueblo. 
 
 "Boy back in pueblo, shadow on Boy's spirit. 
 Not say a word, not play. Boy speak no Indian, 
 only hiss and snarl like Badger, even at own 
 mother. Spirit of boy with spirit of Badger, only 
 body of Boy in pueblo. 
 
 "Two days after, Tom take gun and shovel to 
 den of Badger. Start to dig, Badger rush out. 
 Tom shoot her. Then Tom ride back to pueblo, 
 holding up dead Badger. 
 
 "Boy see dead Badger, cry out, using words 
 for first time, since return, 
 
 " ' My Badger ! Oh, my Badger ! '
 
 i8a WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Boy rush on Tom and attack viciously, with 
 teeth and nails. Tom run to house. Tom very 
 angry when Indians laugh at him running away 
 from Boy. 
 
 "Then Boy fall on ground, in illness so bad, 
 white Government doctor say Boy will not live. 
 But Chief tell medicine men to make Badger medi- ' 
 cine and wrap skin of Badger round Boy. Long 
 illness but Boy get better. Now, one of medicine 
 man of pueblo. You know him. Very silent. 
 Chief says he talks much with spirits of animals. 1 
 
 "That why, Gavan, no Taos Indian will kill 
 badger, but do all possible to make badger free." 
 
 "But why do you want to buy him?" asked 
 Gavan. "Why wouldn't you let me give him to 
 you?" 
 
 "I not bought," was Quick Feather's reply, 
 "you would set badger free, not I." 
 
 "Yes," said the boy, slowly; "I see that. And 
 
 i This amazing story is actually true in every detail, save 
 that the boy in question was white, not Indian. The lad's 
 name was Harry Service, and the incident occurred at Bord's 
 Hill, Manitoba, Canada. The hated neighbor was named Gro- 
 gan. The author of this book was well acquainted with the Very 
 Rev. Dean Matheson, who investigated the occurrence and who 
 knew the Service family personally. It is, so ftv as the author 
 is aware, the only authenticated case of its kind on record. Fuller 
 details may be found in Seton Thompson's valuable work, "Life- 
 Histories of Northern Animals."
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 183 
 
 an Indian won't kill a beast who has helped any 
 of the tribe." 
 
 "Good Spirit," the Indian declared, "give 
 animals to man for use. Good Spirit angry if 
 animal killed by man for no use. To eat, yes ; to 
 wear skin, yes ; to protect from evil, yes ; to have 
 for religious dances, yes; but to kill, like white 
 man, for sport, Indian says not worthy of grown- 
 up man. Sport only vanity, only to boast. 
 Indian not like boasting. Only harmless animal 
 Taos Indian will kill is skunk." 
 
 "Why is that?" asked the boy. "Just because 
 of the awful smell?" 
 
 Quick Feather nodded. 
 
 "Long time ago," he said, "very little boy, did 
 not know Skunk, played with Skunk. Pulled tail. 
 Skunk turned, shot bad medicine water into little 
 boy's face. Little boy laughing, mouth open. 
 Bad medicine water go into little boy's lungs, he 
 choke to death." 1 
 
 "And yet," declared Gavan, "skunk farms are 
 increasing in numbers every year. Mr. Winon 
 
 i This is an authenticated fact. The incident happened in Wis- 
 consin, in the year 1902. There are two cases of total blindness 
 occurring from the liquid squirted by a skunk entering the eyes, 
 and many cases of temporary blindness of long duration. Crea- 
 tures of the wild uniformly leave the skunk strictly alone.
 
 1 84 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 told me that over two million skunk skins are 
 received by fur dealers annually, and over three 
 millions of dollars are paid out for the raw furs. 
 Mink is the only fur which exceeds the skunk in 
 importance, among American furs, and musk-rat 
 comes a close second. 
 
 "Now that the country is getting civilized and 
 all the wild fur-bearing animals have been 
 trapped, most of the furs will have to be raised 
 on farms. Of course, if one could raise silver 
 or black fox, that would mean a lot of money, but 
 you can only do that in the very far north and 
 on big island, for fox will not grow good fur if 
 they are kept in a small place. That's why most 
 of the fur farms in the United States are for 
 skunk. ' ' 
 
 The Indian made an aggressive gesture. 
 
 "White man," he said, "travel every trail 
 where dollar grows." 
 
 Gavan made no answer to this statement, 
 though feeling it unjust to the many growers of 
 fur-bearing animals, who must needs work very 
 hard and under disagreeable conditions to make 
 a living raising furs for the market. Skunk- 
 farming, as he knew by reading in government 
 bulletins, is a legitimate and paying business, but
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 185 
 
 one that takes judgment, experience and plenty 
 of hard work. 
 
 Perhaps as much as any other one factor, Quick 
 Feather's badger story stirred in Gavan the de- 
 sire to know and understand animals better. The 
 work on his farm, the assistance which he had 
 to give on the XO ranch and the requirements 
 of his trap line took up all his time, and it was 
 with the utmost difficulty that he managed to get 
 up for three days with McLeod in the grizzly- 
 bear hunting camp. There he realized how much 
 he had to learn and arranged to spend a part of 
 the following summer at the camp. 
 
 The beginning of winter brought a surprise. 
 The sheriff, from whom the boy had heard little 
 during the summer, suddenly appeared at the 
 ranch, inviting Gavan to come into town and 
 spend the winter with him. It would give the lad 
 an opportunity to go to school, and, so far as the 
 ranch was concerned, the sheriff guaranteed that 
 no one would touch it. 
 
 "Keep your trap line goin' until the snows 
 come," Hunch advised, "an', in the meantime, 
 get up all your hay an' deliver it to the XO. 
 Don't worry about your irrigation ditches, the 
 people around here have found out that you've got
 
 1 86 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 friends enough to see that you get your rights. 
 Next spring, when the mountain trails become 
 passable again, you can get back to your work, 
 an', as Mr. Winon said, you'll do well to spend 
 some time with McLeod on bear trappin'. 
 I tell you frankly, that if you can shape up right, 
 I think there's a great chance for you to make 
 good. There's no doubt that the Biological Sur- 
 vey needs trained men, and you've made a first- 
 class start." 
 
 So Gavan came into the little Mexican town of 
 Taos for the winter, and having the sheriff and 
 the Forest Supervisor among his staunch friends, 
 he found all doors hospitably open to him. His 
 alliance with Quick Feather, moreover, gave him 
 the friendship of the Indians at the pueblo, distant 
 only three miles from the town. 
 
 The cattle he had sold had brought him a fair 
 price and the hay crop had been good. For the 
 first time in his life, Gavan was able to pay for 
 everything he needed with money that he himself 
 had earned, one of the most satisfactory feelings 
 which any lad can possess. 
 
 The snows came on the peaks of the Sangre de 
 Cristo Mountains and stayed there, revealing how 
 fully they deserved the name that the Spaniards
 
 Courtesy of " Outing " Magazine. 
 
 FOLLOWING up THE TRAIL. 
 
 The snow is a blank record on which the tracks of woods-folk write the 
 stories of their lives.
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 187 
 
 had given them centuries ago. The setting sun, 
 glowing red over the distant Jemez Mountains, 
 and the still more distant ranges of the mountains 
 of Arizona, flamed across hundreds of miles of re- 
 flecting sage-brush plain to strike full on the lofty 
 ridges of the Sangre de Cristo, which are almost 
 as high as the world-famous Alps, and which 
 shoot suddenly upwards from the level plateau. 
 
 Then winter slowly waned. Tom Creek, Pot 
 Creek, the Little Rio Grande, the Rio Chiquito 
 and the rest of the mountain streams began to 
 thunder down with the melting snows. A slightly 
 lighter green began to appear upon the slopes, 
 suggesting that the blue conifers were not to have 
 it all their own way any longer, and Gavan went 
 up into the hills to catch his pony which had been 
 running with the XO band all winter, and to pre- 
 pare for the work of the coming spring. 
 
 It had been a hard winter. The snow had been 
 deep and had lasted for several weeks. Stock 
 losses had been heavy, and, what was worse, the 
 cattle remaining had become emaciated and lean. 
 Few ranches could afford to feed hay for weeks 
 at a time, and stockmen looked with gloomy 
 anticipation on probable attacks from predatory 
 animals in the early spring.
 
 i88 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "You want to get at those coyote traps mighty 
 quick an' sudden," the ranch boss of the XO 
 warned the boy. "The way the cattle are now, a 
 couple o' coyotes could pull a yearlin' down like 
 a jack-rabbit. They'll be hungry, too, an' that'll 
 make it worse." 
 
 "I'm going to get the traps right out," the boy 
 replied, "and I'll do all I can to clean the place 
 up of coyotes." 
 
 "If you do as well as you did last fall," the 
 other assented, though grudgingly, "no one ain't 
 a-goin' to complain. But we're already in the 
 first week of April, son, an' some of the earliest 
 litters are already whelped. Mr. Coyote is goin' 
 to start runnin' around, pretty soon, lookin' for 
 food for his new family." 
 
 "All right," said the boy, "I'll try to fix it 
 so that we get him and the family, too. I've 
 trained those Airedales you gave me so that 
 they'll not only chase a cold coyote trail, but 
 they'll even smell out a coyote den. 
 
 "I'm going to trap all I can, of course, Jack, 
 but for the next few weeks I'm going to give most 
 of my time to digging out the dens. You get the 
 old and the young that way, and they never have a 
 chance to grow up and get into mischief."
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 189 
 
 11 That's the idee!" declared the ranch boss, 
 slapping Gavan on the shoulder, " drive the last 
 sneakin' varmint out o' the country." 
 
 Gavan thought of the Biological Survey ex- 
 pert's ideas concerning extinction and control, but, 
 remembering that he was talking to a stockman, 
 he wisely held his tongue. 
 
 Acting on common sense, rather than merely 
 on orders, at the very opening of spring, Gavan 
 used some bait sets, rightly figuring that the de- 
 mands of a new-born family would make the male 
 coyote especially anxious for food, and render the 
 food lure more important than the scent lure. 
 In this he was right, and for a week or two, the 
 boy's bait sets caught coyote after coyote. Then, 
 as might be expected, the coyotes became wise 
 and wary, and the orthodox trapping by scent 
 was resumed. 
 
 Gavan, however, had not forgotten the promise 
 to the ranch boss that he would not confine him- 
 self exclusively to trapping. Digging the pups 
 out in the spring, when possible, is of the highest 
 destructive value. Often enough, the digging 
 meant tough work, for the soil in the valleys of 
 the streams that run down the Sangre de Cristo 
 range is rocky and full of stones. Many a time
 
 190 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 did the dogs locate a den which Gavan would be 
 compelled to leave intact. The opening would be 
 too small for the dogs to enter and the ground 
 would be too rock-bound to yield to pick and 
 shovel. 
 
 There was one den, in particular, which Gavan 
 was anxious to dig out. It belonged to an old 
 male coyote that Gavan had marked many a time, 
 but which had been successful in evading all his 
 traps. He knew it was the same den, for the 
 coyote is a faithful little animal and has but one 
 wife. Whatever the fidelity of this coyote might 
 be, of one thing the boy was sure, and that was 
 that, as a husband, he was a good provider. 
 Three calves, at least, the boy was convinced he 
 had traced to this particular marauder. 
 
 Gavan had begun to realize between the teach- 
 ing of the Biological Survey expert and that of 
 Quick Feather that it is useless merely to learn 
 what a certain species of wild animal will do. It 
 is well enough to understand the habits of coyotes, 
 in general. It is further necessary to understand 
 the habits of each coyote in particular. 
 
 1 'All coyotes not alike, all Indians not alike," 
 Quick Feather had explained to him one day. "I 
 like deer meat, you like mutton. Coyote same.
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 191 
 
 Some eat antelope, some eat skunk, some eat lamb. 
 Sometimes, Coyote eat watermelon, often eat 
 juniper-berries and fruit of prickly-pear. Good 
 coyote and bad coyote. Catch bad coyote, he no 
 teach bad habits to others." 
 
 This particular coyote, then, was "bad medi- 
 cine." He would be hard to catch, that Gavan 
 knew, for he was a wily old chap, and a slight ir- 
 regularity in his track suggested that he had once 
 had his toes pinched in a trap, though, evidently 
 none of them w r as off. But, and this was the im- 
 portant part of it, if this killer coyote were al- 
 lowed to bring up a family, not only would those 
 pups inherit the father's tastes, but they would 
 also have the benefit of the father's education, 
 both in the matter of killing calves and in the 
 matter of dodging traps. One trained family of 
 killers might do more harm on the range than 
 twice or three times the number of coyotes who 
 stuck to the staple food of prairie dog and jack- 
 rabbit and only took an occasional flyer into the 
 high living of domestic animals. 
 
 Accordingly, very early one morning, Gavan 
 started out for this coyote den, which was 
 situated quite high up on a rocky slope, carrying 
 with him not only a shovel and a pickax, but also
 
 192 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 an iron bar which could be made to serve as a 
 crowbar. He determined within himself that he 
 was going to get those pups, if he had to dig a 
 tunnel half-way into the mountain. He had 
 already tried to get in, and failed, so that he knew 
 the stiffness of the task that lay before him. 
 
 "If I only had a stick or two of dynamite or 
 blasting powder!" he exclaimed, when, after a 
 couple of hours' work, he had succeeded only in 
 loosening a few of the larger stones that were 
 wedged in. 
 
 Another hour's work uncovered the principal 
 obstacle. The hole to the den ran in between two 
 stones. At first the boy thought that they were 
 part of the original structure of the mountain and 
 was about to give it up as a bad job, but the 
 thought occurred to him to examine the stones, 
 and he saw by their structure and the fact that 
 the grains were not parallel in the two pieces 
 that they could not have been deposited that way, 
 but must be huge pieces of rock rolled down 
 from the top of the mountain by the forces of 
 erosion. 
 
 "If they moved once, they can move again!" 
 declared Gavan, and set himself anew to his task. 
 
 An hour's probing revealed the fact that the
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 193 
 
 lower one was immovable. How large it might 
 be, the boy had no means of guessing. At least, 
 everywhere he probed with his crowbar, he found 
 the same stone. The upper one was more hope- 
 giving. It was not as large as the other, though 
 far too large to be moved. Even if Gavan had 
 been able to clear away the earth from all round 
 the stone, his strength would not have been 
 enough to lift it upwards so as to enlarge the 
 opening into the den. 
 
 Another idea occurred to him. Instead of try- 
 ing to move the stone, could he chip part of it 
 away? He could reach into the den as far as the 
 length of his arm and he found that the interior 
 both sloped downwards and upwards, forming a 
 cave that would be big enough for him to crawl 
 in, provided that once he could negotiate the open- 
 ing. Perhaps the crowbar could be used as a 
 sledge. He poised the crowbar and slung it, 
 loosely grasped, against the stone. 
 
 A chip flew off. 
 
 Gavan shouted with triumph. This was the 
 way, then ! It would take time, but the boy knew 
 that if the female wolf was in the den she would 
 not come out, and the pups could not escape, any- 
 way.
 
 i 9 4 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 When lunch-time came, the hole was twice its 
 original size, and Gavan could get his head and 
 one shoulder in, but not quite the other. An- 
 other hour's work would accomplish it, without 
 doubt. This continuous hammering on the stone, 
 however, loosened it to a considerable extent, so 
 that it rocked slightly. Gavan stopped to ponder 
 for a moment, whether he ought to return to his 
 original plan of trying to loosen the position 
 of the stone, then decided not. The hole was 
 nearly big enough for him, as it was. 
 
 Rugged perseverance will accomplish the seem- 
 ingly impossible, and by three o'clock in the after- 
 noon, the hole was big enough. 
 
 Gavan prepared to enter the coyote's den. 
 
 He was not Afraid, for he knew that a coyote 
 is one of the most cowardly animals on earth. 
 At the same time, it was not wise to be reckless. 
 Even a coyote mother, if she had cubs, might fight, 
 and, as the Indian had warned him over and over 
 again, 
 
 "No animal same as other animal. No two 
 alike!" 
 
 So Gavan took his little electric lamp from his 
 pocket, pushed the spring and thrust it into the 
 entrance of the den. Then, drawing his six-
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 195 
 
 shooter and holding it in his hand, he propelled 
 himself forward into the den as though he were 
 diving. 
 
 The entrance was very narrow. It was a tight 
 squeeze, but his head and shoulders got in. 
 
 The den was deeper than he thought. Gavan 
 could hear the faint squealing of the little pups, 
 evidently, by the sound, only two or three yards 
 in from where he was crouching. He flashed the 
 light from side to side, but a large pebble lying 
 half-way down and partly choking his further 
 passage, also obstructed his view. The pebble 
 was not too large to be moved, and, thoughtlessly, 
 Gavan gave a wrench and moved it aside. 
 
 As he did so, a little dust rattled down on his 
 back and he felt something from above touch his 
 hips. 
 
 For a second Ga van's heart stood still. 
 
 It must be the male coyote, the killer! 
 
 Then sober second thought returned. No, a 
 coyote would never try to push past a man trying 
 to enter its den. 
 
 He moved his leg cautiously. 
 
 The truth flashed on him. 
 
 The hole by which he had entered the den had 
 become smaller.
 
 196 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 In moving the pebble which had obstructed his 
 further passage into the den, he had shifted what 
 had acted partly as a prop to the larger stone, 
 which had settled, and was further slowly descend- 
 ing so as to close the hole. 
 
 Frantically, Gavan tried to back out. He could 
 get his hips and legs out, he could get out as far 
 as his stomach, but the ribs would not pass, and 
 he knew that if the ribs would not, the shoulders 
 could not. 
 
 The situation was grave. No one knew that 
 he was there. He had even tied the dogs fast 
 before he left, for he knew that he would be work- 
 ing all day at this hole. 
 
 Pinned like an animal in a trap, he was doomed 
 to die the same death that he had given so many 
 of the wild folk. 
 
 The boy struggled back desperately, only to be- 
 come convinced that every mcve loosened the stone 
 above him and rendered escape still more impos- 
 sible. He slid forward again, as gently as he 
 could, and, in so doing, saw his light reflected 
 in two pin-point gleams which he knew must be 
 the eyes of the mother coyote. 
 
 There was no harsh or cruel gleam in those
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 197 
 
 eyes, nothing like the savage yellow gleam of the 
 cougar, for the coyote has soft, gentle brown eyes 
 which are in striking contrast to its habits. Just 
 the same, Gavan knew enough about coyotes to be 
 sure that those soft brown eyes could be trusted 
 but little. As long as he was alert, the cowardly 
 coyote would slink back to the farthest corner of 
 the den, and even allow her babies to be taken. 
 It would be only if she herself felt that she was 
 in danger that he might expect that quick vicious 
 snap that was so appalling in its results. 
 
 On the other hand, the moment that the coyote 
 should know that the boy was weakening, with that 
 curious sense possessed by the wild folk which 
 tells them instantly of the mental condition of a 
 foe, that moment the coyote might risk a for- 
 ward dash and a snap. 
 
 It would be easy, the easiest thing in the- world, 
 simply to shoot the coyote. The six-shooter was 
 ready, the light reflected in the animal's eyes 
 showed him exactly where to fire. 
 
 But Gavan dared not shoot. 
 
 He had, inadvertently, removed the big pebble 
 which had acted as a prop to the greater stone 
 overhead, and he feared that if he fired in that
 
 198 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 enclosed space, the vibration and the vacuum com- 
 bined would further loosen the stone and it might 
 fall on him- and crush him. 
 
 He took his revolver by the barrel and crept 
 on. He was very near the coyote, now. 
 
 There was not much room to reach up, but with 
 all the force that the limited space would allow 
 Gavan suddenly thrust forward the electric light 
 fair into the animal's eyes, partly for the purpose 
 of dazzling it, and partly so that, if the coyote 
 should snap, it should snap on the metal of the 
 lamp. Then, with the other hand, he brought the 
 butt of the pistol full on the coyote's head. 
 There was not room enough for a killing blow, 
 that he knew, but even if the creature should be 
 stunned or dazed for a half a minute, that would 
 suffice. 
 
 The coyote half rose and then rolled over. 
 
 Quick as a flash, Gavan wrenched from around 
 his neck the brightly-colored handkerchief that 
 he always wore in admiring imitation of the 
 cowboys of the XO and, grasping the coyote 
 firmly by the snout, he tied the jaws firmly to- 
 gether. That done, he breathed more easily. 
 The four pups he also knocked on the head, not 
 because their teeth were long enough to inflict
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 199 
 
 any serious injury, but because even the slightest 
 scratch from a coyote's teeth is a good thing to 
 avoid. It is not as terribly dangerous as a scratch 
 from a timber wolf's teeth, which, more often 
 than not, causes death from blood poisoning, but 
 still, it is dangerous enough. 
 
 Then Gavan tried to turn to go out. He twisted 
 and squirmed and tied himself up in all kinds of 
 knots, but the hole was too small. He had felt 
 that if he could only get so that he was point- 
 ing head first out of the hole, the strength of back 
 and shoulders might enable him to move the stone 
 just enough for him to wriggle through. But it 
 could not be done. There was nothing for it but 
 to back out again, and try to force himself through 
 the hole by raising the stone with his hips. 
 
 So, feet foremost, Gavan backed out again to 
 the entrance, only to find that the stone had 
 sagged still lower. Feet and knees passed 
 through, but the hips were a tight fit. None the 
 less, by using all his force, Gavan managed to 
 get them half through. 
 
 He stopped, panting, to take breath. 
 
 Then, summoning all his strength, he drew his 
 knees closer under him and heaved upwards. 
 
 The stone moved.
 
 200 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 With triumph surging through him, he shot 
 backwards, sure of escape. 
 
 But the stone was too heavy, and the very 
 second that the upward pressure was relaxed, it 
 sagged downwards again, catching him in the 
 small of the back and the pit of the stomach. 
 
 He could move neither forward or back. 
 
 The pressure was not great, but the sudden 
 realization that he was trapped even more 
 strongly than before, was unbearable. He wrig- 
 gled fiercely, insanely, but at that point in the 
 body there is little muscular force. 
 
 Even to himself, afterwards, Gavan was loath 
 to admit it, but at this point panic seized him, 
 and he screamed and struggled blindly. In his 
 frenzied efforts he twisted a muscle or a tendon, 
 giving him a sharp pain in his side, and partly 
 from the fright and partly from the pressure of 
 the big rock on his intestines, he became violently 
 nauseated. The resultant weakness, hunger and 
 thirst brought on a stupor, into which the boy 
 sank as evening came on. 
 
 He was roused, towards dark, by some animal 
 tugging at his leg. Dimly and hopelessly, he 
 muttered, 
 
 ' 'That's the male wolf, come back!"
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 201 
 
 It was a horrible sensation, feeling that a wild 
 animal would chew his leg slowly at leisure, tear- 
 ing away flesh and muscles while he was still alive, 
 pinned under the rock and unable to do anything. 
 But the tugging continued. 
 
 At first Gavan assigned his freedom from a 
 tearing wound to the tough leather chapparejos 
 or "shapps" that he wore, a necessary part of his 
 outfit when riding through the rough mountain 
 country, where gnarled bushes scraped all the time 
 against his legs as he rode, and where the trail 
 was so narrow between the close-growing quak- 
 ing aspens, that, unless he were thus protected, an 
 injury to the kneecap was more than probable. 
 
 But a few minutes' reflection, even though it 
 was the workings of a brain sick, wrenched and 
 despondent, caused Gavan to think that no 
 "shapps," no matter how tough, would greatly 
 hinder the teeth of a good-sized coyote, which can 
 tear horse-hide and cow-hide as though it were 
 tissue paper. Besides, with all of the lower half 
 of his body outside, the part of the body on which 
 he sat in the saddle, and which of course was not 
 covered by the leather "shapps," was practically 
 exposed. 
 
 Why did the coyote tug at a leather boot, in-
 
 202 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 stead of ripping his flesh open where it was un- 
 protected! 
 
 Was it a coyote at all? 
 
 A sudden hope, bright as though the sunshine 
 had suddenly flooded the dark coyote den, flashed 
 into Gavan's mind. 
 
 He whistled shrilly. 
 
 Outside, a familiar bark responded. 
 
 It was no coyote, it was one of his Airedales, 
 who, with that strange prescience possessed by 
 dogs had sensed his master's danger, wrenched 
 himself loose and trailed his master to the coyote 
 den. Arrived there, he had found the leg stick- 
 ing out of the hole, and after a whimper or two 
 had brought no response, he had started to try 
 to pull his master out, with true dog intelligence, 
 smelling the coyotes within and supposing that 
 his master was in some sort of trouble. 
 
 For a long time the pulling continued, then, as 
 suddenly it stopped. 
 
 Gavan whistled. There was no answer. 
 
 Had the Airedale gone? If so, where? The 
 boy knew enough about dogs to be sure that the 
 terrier would never have deserted him unless 
 there were some plan in his doggish mind, so he 
 waited hopefully for what might come. Despair
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 203 
 
 had vanished with that tugging at his left boot- 
 heel. 
 
 Two hours later, Quick Feather, standing by the 
 low mud wall which encircles the pueblo, listen- 
 ing to the younger men singing their unison 
 chants, as Pueblo Indians do almost every even- 
 ing, heard a sharp bark, and a slimly-built Aire- 
 dale bounded up and put its two paws against his 
 chest. 
 
 The Indian looked down at the dog. He did not 
 pat it, as a white man would. Indians rarely 
 caress animals. 
 
 "Gavan's dog," he said. "Where Gavan?" 
 
 The dog barked, ran away a few steps, came 
 back and barked again. 
 
 "Rope chewed through," remarked the Indian, 
 noting that the rope fastened to the dog's collar 
 had been bitten, strand by strand. "Dog run 
 long way." 
 
 Quick Feather then carried out his constant 
 advice to the boy to "think like an animal." He 
 stooped down and looked into the dog's eyes. 
 
 "Dog in trouble," he concluded, "Gavan in 
 trouble." 
 
 He swung off with the long silent step of the 
 Indian to the corral made of poles, with which the
 
 204 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 pueblo is surrounded on three sides, and came 
 back a moment later astride of his pony. Quick 
 Feather was old, but there were few young fellows 
 in the tribe who could move more quickly when 
 needed. 
 
 The dog leaped up and barked joyously. It 
 was not necessary to be a reader of dog language 
 to know that Quick Feather had guessed right. 
 
 Before leaving the pueblo, however, Quick 
 Feather dismounted again and looked thought- 
 fully at the dog. Then he called a boy who was 
 standing near and gave him an order. The lad 
 ran off and returned a few minutes later with a 
 long piece of binder twine for the modern Indian 
 is a good agriculturist and understands the use of 
 improved farm machinery. This the Indian tied 
 to the dog's collar. 
 
 "Dog in trouble," he said, "run too fast for 
 pony. Lose sight of dog." 
 
 Whereupon, he remounted the pony and set 
 out at a steady lope, the Airedale pulling steadily 
 ahead. 
 
 To Gavan, waiting in the hole, the time seemed 
 endless, but, after an interminable delay, he heard 
 the welcome sharp bark, and whistled in reply. 
 
 Then, almost before he was aware of it, the long
 
 IN A WILD BEAST'S DEN 205 
 
 iron bar that he had left beside the hole, when he 
 chipped the pieces away to enlarge the entrance, 
 was thrust in, and the rock over his back lifted. 
 
 With a gasp of relief, Gavan backed out, his 
 breath coming sharp because of the twist that he 
 had given himself, and his whole body feeble with 
 the strain. Still, despite the pain, he scrambled 
 back into the open and the pine-scented fresh air, 
 and then was seized with another attack of nausea. 
 Not till the spasm was over, did he recognize his 
 rescuer. 
 
 "How, Quick Feather!" he said. "How did 
 you find me? Was it " and he threw one arm 
 around the Airedale's neck, and fainted. 
 
 Picking the boy up in his arms, though he was 
 no light weight, the sturdy old Indian carried him 
 the mile and a half back to the cabin, pony and 
 dog following behind as though they knew and 
 understood.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 EAKTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 
 
 SEVERE as had been Gavan's experience in the 
 coyote's den, a day or two soon put him on his 
 feet. For months afterwards, he had an occa- 
 sional twinge in his side, where he had strained 
 himself trying to wriggle out of the trap, but not 
 of any consequence. Nothing, however, would in- 
 duce him to creep into a coyote den again. If 
 the little beasts could be dug out, well and good, 
 if not, Gavan contented himself with fastening 
 some large-sized fish-hooks on a long pole and 
 pulling out the pups that way. 
 
 The bounty offered by the XO added quite a 
 snug little sum to Gavan's savings, and, although 
 the pelts were not worth much, he found that the 
 adults he trapped in the early spring had a pelage 
 sufficiently dense to be of value. Though New 
 Mexico is too far south for good furs, the Sangre 
 de Cristo Mountains are high and the cold winters 
 206
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 207 
 
 and heavy snows produce, in some years, a prime 
 article of fur. 
 
 By the time the ground was ready to be worked 
 and put in shape for next year's hay crop, Gavan 
 had taken over a hundred coyotes, including pups. 
 Acting on the suggestion of the Forest Super- 
 visor, moreover, he had made a point of writing 
 every week or ten days to the Biological Survey 
 expert concerning his work, in order to keep him- 
 self remembered. Gavan 's heart was set on be- 
 coming a government trapper, sooner or later, 
 
 Towards the end of May, when the crops were 
 in and growing well, one day, Gavan, riding along 
 his trap line, saw a track on the ground which 
 gave his heart a jump. Reining his pony to one 
 side, he jumped off and examined the mark care- 
 fully. 
 
 "If I believed in fairy tales," muttered the boy, 
 "that would be a giant, going barefoot!" 
 
 He dropped the lines over the horse's head, 
 so that the animal might graze and yet not get far 
 away, while he examined the print. 
 
 The track was pointing down-hill, on loose 
 ground around a gopher's burrow, but there was 
 little definite, only a faint flat impression which 
 certainly was not cow, horse, or human boot. It
 
 208 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 was so faint, and yet so large that the thought oc- 
 curred to the boy that it might have been made by 
 a hawk's or an owl's wing, as one or other of 
 these pounced down on a gopher. 
 
 "If it's a bird's wing," said the boy, half aloud, 
 "there won't be any other mark. If it isn't, there 
 must be. But it's almost big enough for a young 
 elephant!" 
 
 So, scanning carefully the ground, Gavan 
 circled warily around the suspected track until 
 he came to a place where the ground squirrels 
 had been busy digging out their burrows. Here, 
 he knew, was his best chance, for he had learned 
 that even the wary coyote has not become aware 
 of the fact that trotting over the loose earth near 
 these burrows will leave a track plain for any one 
 to read. 1 
 
 Finally, almost straight down-hill from the 
 former track, Gavan found another. This one 
 was comparatively clear and distinct, that is, to 
 trained eyes. Although a western trapper would 
 have seen it from horseback, an eastern boy, even 
 though it were pointed out to him, and who got 
 down on his knees to look at it, would have seen 
 
 i Incredible as it may seem, some old outlaw wolves have 
 learned this and show an uncanny ability in avoiding ground 
 which would leave a track.
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 209 
 
 nothing but an indeterminate smudge on the 
 ground. 1 
 
 At this second track, Gavan looked long and 
 intently. There was no doubting what it was. 
 
 "That's a grizzly!" he declared. "But what 
 a monster ! He must be the grandfather of all the 
 bears." 
 
 Then, stooping down, Gavan measured the track. 
 It was longer, from the heel to the front of the 
 ball of the foot, than his two hands would span, 
 and beyond that, again, could be seen the print of 
 the toes. Still farther, some barely traceable 
 furrows in the dry earth showed the narrow 
 claws. 
 
 "Sixteen inches!" exclaimed Gavan, and whis- 
 tled. " It 's a whale of a bear ! ' ' 
 
 True to his trapping instinct, Ga van's first 
 thought was to try to catch that bear, but no 
 sooner had he formulated the idea in his mind 
 than he dismissed it. He had no trap among his 
 collection larger than a No. 4^ and neci:; all 
 
 i The author was much impressed with this, when working 
 in the Taos Mountains in the preparation of this book. A govern- 
 ment bear trapper, riding at fair speed, followed and distinguished 
 the trails of two bears, although these trails were so faint that 
 the author was only able to trace them vaguely by dismounting 
 and regarding the marks fixedly. And the author is not new to 
 trapping, either!
 
 210 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 of them were 3's and 4's. It needed very little 
 figuring to see that even the 4 1 /2, with a spread of 
 jaws of but eight inches, would never hold a 
 creature with a foot such as the track showed. 
 
 His success in trapping coyotes had also taught 
 Gavan one of the first essentials to a good trapper, 
 namely, never to make an unsuccessful set. 
 Better no trap at all than too light a trap, in which 
 a large animal may be caught and wrench himself 
 free. Such a mistake merely educates the animal, 
 and makes him ten times as hard to catch as 
 formerly. 
 
 For a while Gavan ruminated over the track. 
 
 " Guess I'd better 'tell McLeod about this," he 
 finally decided. "If I do anything, I'll only scare 
 him off the place and he may be the cattle-killing 
 grizzly that Mr. Winon talked about last fall. 
 McLeod 's got the traps and knows how to go 
 about it. I don't." 
 
 As Gavan had long promised himself the pleas- 
 ur^ cf a week with the bear-hunter, and as his 
 crops were sufficiently advanced to be let alone 
 for a few days, Gavan decided to take his vaca- 
 tion at once. He wrote to the Biological Survey 
 chief that he had found a grizzly bear track and 
 was going up to McLeod to tell him about it, for
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 211 
 
 the lad shrewdly reasoned that the more he showed 
 his interest in other forms of trapping beside 
 coyote, the more chance there was for him in the 
 Biological Survey. 
 
 This done, he sprung all his traps and brought 
 them home, knowing the unwisdom as well as the 
 cruelty of untended traps, slung a couple of bags 
 of provision on either side of his saddle, so that 
 he would be able to keep up his share of the grub 
 of the camp, and rode up to the cabin where the 
 riders had gathered for the famous coyote 
 " drive" of the autumn before. 
 
 He reached there before dark, finding the camp 
 deserted. Whereupon, knowing the ways of the 
 camp, he hustled out, pulled into a heap the butts 
 of half a dozen dead quaking aspens which lay 
 around the ground by thousands ran the loop of 
 his lariat around them and dragged the pile down- 
 hill to the camp. A few strokes of the ax cut 
 these into four-foot lengths and five minutes later 
 a huge fire was roaring in the fire-hollow. 
 
 The boy rousted about to find some bread, but 
 not discovering any, decided that McLeod must 
 just have run out. So, placing the iron pot in the 
 embei s, to get reasonably warm, Gavan proceeded 
 to mix up the flour, salt, and baking-powder with
 
 212 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 water which he had placed near the fire for a 
 minute or two to take the chill off, removing the 
 iron pot as soon as it became too warm. The top 
 of this pot (known as a camp Dutch oven), which 
 is countersunk, he then placed in the hottest part 
 of the fire, until it got very hot. Next, placing the 
 pot on a small tripod, near the fire, he lightly 
 (very lightly) kneaded some of the dough until 
 it formed a flat cake about an inch and a half thick 
 and the size of the pot round, then dropped it in 
 the heated pot. The super-heated cover was then 
 put on, a shovelful of red embers was piled on 
 the lid, and a shovelful of red embers placed under 
 the tripod below the pot. Thus was secured an 
 even, steady heat from top and bottom. In five 
 minutes, the bread had risen to a loaf three inches 
 thick, and in fifteen minutes it was thoroughly 
 baked and brown. 
 
 The fire, by this time, had burned down to clear 
 embers, and the coffee-pot was put on to boil, while 
 potatoes were being peeled and the bacon cut into 
 slices for frying. 
 
 Presently the barking of dogs was heard, and 
 a couple of minutes later, McLeod rode into the 
 clearing.
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 213 
 
 "Howdy, Gavan," he said, "come to try your 
 hand at trappin' grizzlies now?" 
 
 ' ' Just want to see how you do it, ' ' was the reply. 
 
 The hunter made a grimace. 
 
 "How we don't do it, you mean," he answered. 
 "There's a brute around here that's makin' his 
 breakfast, dinner, an' supper regularly on the XO 
 cattle, an' I can't either get a look at him nor 
 persuade him to take a nap in one of my traps. 
 I'm plumb disgusted an' that's what!" 
 
 The hunter was unsaddling and hobbling his 
 pony as he spoke, and presently he swung through 
 the two V-shaped trees which formed the gate to 
 the fence surrounding the camp. 
 
 "I've got something to tell you about that," 
 answered Gavan, "but I guess it can wait. 
 Supper's ready." 
 
 The hunter cast a swift look at the preparations, 
 slouched over to the rough table with the bow-leg- 
 ged walk that wearing "shapps" always pro- 
 duces, broke off a bit of the newly-baked bread 
 and looked round at the boy with a nod. 
 
 "I'll hire you as camp cook," he said with a 
 laugh. "This grub is all to the good." 
 
 Gavan knew that his prestige was assured.
 
 2i 4 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 While not an " old-timer, " he could be said "to 
 belong. ' ' 
 
 Supper over, and the dishes washed for how- 
 ever often unwashed dishes may be seen in city 
 kitchens, they are unknown in any decent camp 
 Gavan commenced to tell the hunter about his 
 discovery of the bear-track this morning. 
 
 "I don't want to seem a,s though I were putting 
 it on too thick," he concluded, when he had de- 
 scribed the exact place where he had seen the 
 track, "but it was at least sixteen inches long. 
 I measured it this way " he spread his two hands 
 on the ground, "and it was longer than that." 
 
 The hunter looked at him with a dry chuckle, 
 as he pressed the tobacco deep into his pipe. 
 
 "That bear must ha' walked a long way," he 
 suggested. 
 
 "Why?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "Because I ain't ever seen no bears with a 
 track like that, this side o ' Alaska. I used to get 
 a few monsters up Cook Inlet way, when I was a 
 young fellow an' got the craze to go huntin' for 
 gold instead o' bear. Fact, I don't believe there's 
 any bear in the world, anywhere, but in Alaska, 
 that's got a track more than twelve or thirteen 
 inches long, at the outside."
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 215 
 
 "Well," said Gavan, "if the Alaskan bear is 
 the only one that makes a track like that, then it 's 
 an Alaskan bear!" 
 
 "If it's an Alaskan or a Kodiak bear," the 
 hunter responded, "I reckon I'll let him alone." 
 
 "Why?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "Because he'll roast to death in New Mexico 
 an' there won't be any need to trap him," the 
 hunter answered with a grin. "Besides I ain't 
 hankering after Kodiak bears, nohow. I'd rather 
 have something easy, like a mad elephant, or a 
 man-eating lion." 
 
 Gavan saw that he was being made game of, 
 but he knew nothing about Kodiak bears, he had 
 never heard of them before, so he pretended not 
 to see the irony of the hunter's replies, and asked, 
 
 "Is a Kodiak bigger than a grizzly, then?" 
 
 "Is a timber wolf bigger than a coyote?" the 
 hunter snorted. "Yes, my son, a Kodiak is a durn 
 sight bigger than a grizzly an' don't you forget 
 it. I've trapped a right smart lot of grizzlies, 
 durin' the last twenty years, all of a hundred, I 
 should say, but around 700 pounds was the heavi- 
 est I've ever run across. Most o' them are a good 
 deal smaller than that. 1 
 
 iThe heaviest grizzly on record was a bear in the Lincoln
 
 216 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "While as for Kodiak bears, I've seen 'era 
 that run 1600 pounds, an' some have been shot 
 which weighed 1800 pounds an' more. You won't 
 be far out if you reckon a Kodiak bear as being 
 generally a little more 'n twice as big as a grizzly. 
 Winon, the other day, told me a Kodiak bear was 
 the largest carnivorous animal livin', an' that it 
 could make hay of an African lion or a Bengal 
 tiger." 
 
 "Did you ever have a run in with one, Mc- 
 Leod?" asked the boy. 
 
 "No," the hunter replied, "I can't say as I 
 have. I've shot a few, four altogether, but I 
 didn't shoot until I had a sure bead on them, an' 
 I wasn 't using bird-shot either. I carried a 45-90 
 with soft-point bullets, an' only once out of 
 the four times did I have to shoot twice. No. 
 I have no kick. 
 
 "But I happened to know Wabash Bill, who got 
 pretty badly mauled by a Kodiak bear, an' his 
 experience made me even more scary o ! gettin' 
 mixed up with the monsters. Like every wild 
 animal that I ever heard of except a skunk or a 
 
 Park Zoo, in Chicago, which weighed 1153 pounds, but much 
 of this was soft fat which would not have been on the animal in 
 a wild state. About 850 pounds is probably the limit of a big 
 grizzly in its native state.
 
 Courtesy of American Museum of Natural History. 
 
 PREHISTORIC MAN AND THE CAVE-BEAR. 
 
 The cave-bear was probably about the same size as the modern Kodiak 
 
 bear (1500 pounds in weight, and more) but was more thick-set 
 
 in build and less dangerously equipped in tooth and claw.
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 217 
 
 porcupine they'll run the minute they smell, see 
 or hear man. But if you get in wrong with a 
 Kodiak bear, you're in wrong for sure." 
 
 "What happened to Wabash Bill?" queried 
 Gavan, eager for the story. 1 
 
 The hunter looked smilingly down at the excited 
 lad, and, after a few puffs of his pipe, began: 
 
 "On the mornin' of August 7, 1900, Captain 
 William H. Royden, of the schooner Wabash, an' 
 better known to most of us as 'Wabash Bill,' 
 findin' his larder shy o' fresh meat, went ashore 
 after deer. He was anchored in Rodman Bay, 
 Alaska, at the time. 
 
 "Wabash Bill was an old hand at the game. 
 He knew the woods as well as he did the decks of 
 his schooner, an' he was as good a frontiersman 
 an' guide as he was a pilot. Every one knew 
 Wabash Bill all along the coast. Any one would 
 have said that he was as well able to look after 
 himself as a full-grown grizzly might be. 
 
 "In the summer months, the cleer in that part 
 o' the world browse high on the mountain-slopes, 
 
 i This story, written originally by Alfred E. Bennett, in the 
 Wide World Magazine, was reprinted by Field and Stream, 
 after thorough authentication, as "one of the most extraordinary 
 authentic stories of human endurance, following injuries re- 
 ceived from a wild animal." It has been confirmed in every par- 
 ticular.
 
 2i8 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 close to timber line, where the meltin' snows leave 
 moss-beds an' young green grass exposed. 
 There's rich eatin' up there, an' deer, as you 
 know, don't like hot weather. So Wabash Bill, 
 when he started out, knew that he was in for a long 
 climb, but he was a sportsman through an' 
 through, an' though he declared that fresh meat 
 was his goal, it was the sportin' end of it that 
 appealed to him just as much. 
 
 "Deer were plentiful, an' the captain, sure of 
 baggin' his game an' tired from the long climb, 
 decided to wait at a convenient spot an' let the 
 deer feed on up toward him, instead of goin' to 
 all the trouble of a long an ' difficult stalk over high 
 grass flats made marshy by the meltin' snow. So, 
 concealin' himself in a clump of scrub willow, not 
 far from a patch of snow, the sturdy old boy ate 
 a midday lunch an' settled himself to wait for his 
 quarry. 
 
 11 Around 3 o'clock in the afternoon, a small 
 fat buck stepped cv:t from a thick fringe of under- 
 brush an' sniffed the cool, pure air for a suspicious 
 taint. There was nothing to arouse his suspicion 
 for Wabash Bill, naturally, had stationed himself 
 on the lee side o' the flat, so that no wind should 
 blow from him towards the feedin' deer. The
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 219 
 
 buck, therefore, bent down to crop the sprouts in 
 a moss-bed, not more'n 200 yards from where 
 the hunter sat. 
 
 "The captain's rifle spoke once. Before the 
 echoes had petered out, Wabash Bill was standin' 
 over the little animal, which had dropped in its 
 tracks. His skinnin' knife was ready, an' with the 
 expertness of years of practice, it only took him a 
 few minutes to dress the body. Then, havin' 
 washed away the blood on his hands in a brook 
 fed by the meltin' snows, he leisurely smoked a 
 pipe which he had not dared to do before for fear 
 a whiff might carry to the sensitive nostrils of the 
 deer, an' with the buck on his shoulders, began 
 his climb down to the ship. 
 
 "The schooner lay some three thousand feet 
 down an' two miles to the right, an' Wabash Bill, 
 rememberin' the roughness of the trail he came up, 
 chose a course straight for the water as the short- 
 est cut through the forest. 
 
 "For an hour he battled with clingin' under- 
 brush an' thorny devil-clubs, stumbled over fallen 
 logs an' sank ankle-deep in boggy places. Mos- 
 quitoes an' flies an' believe me, son, the Alaska 
 mosquitoes can give odds to any other mosquitoes 
 in the world in a biting contest an' win out handily
 
 220 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 attracted by the smell of the blood on the deer, 
 nearly drove him crazy. Besides, it was hotter 'n 
 South Texas on a windless day. Can't it get hot 
 near the Arctic Circle! It's like the inside of a 
 stew-pan over a dry oak fire. 
 
 "At last he worked his way through the scrub 
 growth an' reached the larger timber. There the 
 travelin' was easier as the undergrowth was not 
 so dense. It was rough goin', still, though, an' 
 at times, Wabash Bill told me, he could scarcely 
 see the ground for the swarms of flies, mosquitoes, 
 gnats, an' other insects around him, while the 
 whiz of their wings sounded like the entrance to a 
 busy bee-hive. 
 
 "The slope was steep grade an' he had still 
 three-quarters of a mile of durn stiff mountain- 
 side to go down, but the trees had opened out a 
 little. They were very closely set, however, an' 
 their branches meetin ' overhead shut out the sun- 
 light. It was right gloomy, dark shade with 
 clearin's here an' there, park-like open patches 
 full of long grass. An' every separate blade of 
 grass was the home of a tribe of mosquitoes, all 
 hungry an' plumb energetic. 
 
 "Tired, perspirin' an' exasperated almost be- 
 yond endurance by the stings of the insects an'
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 221 
 
 the perpetual crawling of flies over his sweat- 
 drippin' face, Wabash Bill went onward an' down- 
 ward, thinkin' only o' gettin' to his schooner as 
 quickly as he could, lookin' forward to strippin' 
 and takin ' a swim, icy though the water would be. 
 
 "Then, as he crossed a small clearin' an' en- 
 tered the thick again, he passed between two wal- 
 lopin' big pines standin' close together on the edge 
 of the forest. 
 
 "It is one of the iron rules of bear-hunters, as 
 I told you last fall, Gavan, never to go between 
 two big trees standin' very near together, but 
 Wabash Bill was either too irritated by the mos- 
 quitoes to think about the rule, or else too tired 
 an' worked up to take the dozen or so steps 
 out of the way. Anyhow, he took a chance, an' 
 stepped between the trees. 
 
 "Suddenly, without the slightest warnin' save 
 a deep-throated savage snarl, a great brown she- 
 bear sprang upon his back an ' bore him face down- 
 wards to the ground, tearin' a patch of skin from 
 the back of his head with her teeth, as he fell. 
 
 "Squalling and bawling with rage and joy, a 
 couple of half -grown cubs either of them the size 
 of an ordinary black bear joined their mother, 
 clawin' an' bitin' at Bill as he lay on the ground.
 
 222 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Wabash Bill could offer no defense. His rifle 
 had been jerked out of his hands as he fell, he had 
 no revolver, and his knife was in his pocket. 
 
 " Moreover, there was no chance to use a 
 weapon, even if he had one, for the old bear stood 
 right over him, the spittle from her bloody jaws 
 pourin' down on his neck. 
 
 "The cubs alternately bit an' clawed at his 
 trunk an' legs, keepin' up a savage growlin' all 
 the while. 
 
 "Poor Bill bore the excruciatin' pain in grim 
 silence, with his elbows held close to his side, to 
 protect the abdomen. Had he fallen on his back, 
 or had the brutes thought of turnin' him over, he 
 would have been ripped up or had his throat cut 
 in an instant. 
 
 "Though half stunned an' nearly mad with 
 pain, Wabash Bill realized that his only salvation 
 lay in keepin' still an' protectin' his throat an' 
 abdomen. A bear finds no sport in a dead victim, 
 an' he knew that many a man had been saved by 
 playing 'possum. 
 
 "At last the bears drew off a few feet an', sit- 
 tin' on their haunches, watched their prey, lickin' 
 their blood-flecked chops an' snarlin', Bill said,
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 223 
 
 like a dozen circular-saws goin' through water- 
 logged timber. 
 
 11 Filled with hope, Wabash Bill lay motionless, 
 exertin' every ounce of will-power he possessed 
 to keep from movin'. He hardly dared to 
 breathe. 
 
 " Suddenly, his right arm quivered involun- 
 tarily, by a reflex action, as one of those bitin' 
 bulldog flies settled in a gaping wound that had 
 been made by one of the cubs, an' which had ex- 
 posed the muscles of the shoulder. 
 
 1 'Instantly the old bear was upon him, with a 
 dreadful roar, an' seizin' his wrist in her teeth, 
 bit it through. 
 
 "Human nature couldn't stand no more, an' 
 Wabash Bill, weak from pain an' loss of blood, 
 fainted. Then the she-bear, givin' him a last 
 slap with her massive paw which struck his right 
 thigh, led off her cubs, still growlin', through the 
 forest. 
 
 "When Wabash Bill regained consciousness, it 
 was dark, an' swarms of mosquitoes buzzed 
 around him, feedin' at his wounds an' stingin' 
 his half-naked body. Every wound was stiff and 
 cold an' his throat burned with an awful thirst.
 
 224 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Makin' a painful effort, he broke off a couple of 
 fern-stalks that lay just in his grasp an' laid them 
 over his face to keep away the insects, then lapsed 
 once more into unconsciousness. 
 
 "From this swoon he came out into a half 
 stupor an' lay there for three days, half con- 
 scious. ' ' 
 
 "Three days!" exclaimed Gavan. 
 
 "Three days,*' the hunter repeated. "They 
 must have passed like a horrible nightmare, the 
 cold wet nights, the burnin' heat of the middle 
 of the day, the perpetual stings of a thousand 
 mosquitoes an' the intolerable yalkin' an' bitin' 
 o' cattle-flies over his gapin' wounds. 
 
 "Brain fever came to help him out, since it 
 made him feel his sufferin' less, though one 
 thought burned into his fevered mind like a brand - 
 in ' iron Water! 
 
 "Insensible now to the pain of his wounds, the 
 thirst-crazed man half crawled, half rolled down 
 the mountainside, an', by a lucky chance, hap- 
 pened upon a little trickle o' snow-water. 
 Drinkin' long an' deep, an' lettin' the icy water 
 run over his wounds, which, o' course, were full 
 o' dirt an' leaves, to say nothin' o' the infections 
 brought by insects, Wabash Bill regained his
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 225 
 
 senses only to find himself worse off than before 
 with a gnawin' hunger an' a feverish throbbin' 
 in every nerve an' muscle of his body. 
 
 "Wabash Bill, however, was made o' the stern 
 old stuff we used to call Americans in this 
 western country, not the soft city dudes whose 
 only idea is to buy somethin' cheap an' sell it 
 dear (the hunter was an inveterate hater of 
 tradesfolk) an' he had western grit in his will an' 
 red blood in his veins, though the bears had 
 drawn out a lot o' the latter. He set out to work 
 his way through the more than half a mile o' 
 thick forest that lay between him an' the beach; 
 followin' the stream. 
 
 "His right arm was entirely useless, but with 
 his left arm an' knee, he struggled on, foot by 
 foot. He soon found it impossible to follow the 
 stream, an' right soon his burnin' thirst started 
 in again. Sticks, leaves, thorns an' dirt worked 
 into the open wounds on his head, arms an' legs, 
 an' a hunger gripped him with an agony that 
 got worse every hour. 
 
 "Keepin' his tongue moist by lickin' leaves 
 an' moss, now an r again findin' just one or maybe 
 two salmon berries to eat, which kept his tongue 
 an' lips from crackin', Wabash Bill pushed on,
 
 226 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 more often than not rollin' down-hill a yard or 
 two an' brumn' himself further by landin' against 
 a stone or tree, his strength bein' unequal to the 
 job o' proppin' himself up on one knee to crawl. 
 Still, foot by foot, he got down the hill, alternately 
 droppin' into a feverish sleep, or faintin' with 
 the unbearable agony of his injuries. 
 
 "On the sixth day his sufferings were made 
 worse by the approach of rescue. He heard the 
 signal shots of a searchin' party but was unable 
 to answer. Spent with hunger, fatigue and pain, 
 his nose broken an' closed, his head swollen from 
 a cuff given him by one of the cubs, his tongue 
 parched an' his breath exhausted, his effort to 
 cry out in response sounded only like the distant 
 echo of the bawling of a bear. Probably it could 
 not have been heard a dozen yards away. The 
 shots receded an' grew fainter, an' Wabash Bill 
 became unconscious once more. 
 
 " Later, just when he did not know, he found 
 himself strugglin r downwards an' saw, about a 
 quarter of a mile away, the blue waters of the 
 bay dancin' in the sunshine. Once, he thought, 
 an' it may have been true, at that he saw his 
 own schooner through a rift in the trees. 
 
 "Comin' to a small level spot, where the force
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 227 
 
 of gravity couldn't help him out by lettin' him roll 
 down, Wabash Bill found himself, to his despair, 
 unable to cross. He strained every shred of the 
 remnants of his tremendous vitality, every fiber 
 of his wonderful nerve, in a vain effort to reach 
 the slopin' ground again; but his desperate 
 struggle was useless and he collapsed, pantin' 
 weakly. 
 
 "A big snail crawled within reach of his hands. 
 
 "He seized it, an' ate it ravenously. Then, 
 after a hard struggle, he succeeded in reachin' a 
 few salmon-berries. 
 
 "It's a wonder, Gavan, what one bite of food 
 will do for a man dyin' of hunger. Hope re- 
 vived in Royden's breast, an' he waited an' 
 prayed for another scrap of food to lend him 
 strength to get to the water's edge. 
 
 "As if .by miracle, it came. 
 
 "Suddenly he heard a wild screamin' an' 
 flutterin', an', turnin' his head with a violent ef- 
 fort an' a wrench of pain, he saw an eagle an' 
 a fish-hawk fightin' in the air above him. 
 
 "A second later, he saw the bushes move, as a 
 falling object plumped into them, only a few feet 
 away. 
 
 "A choked cry -of joy burst from Wabash Bill's
 
 228 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 throat as he realized what had happened. He had 
 seen this thing happen many times before, when 
 an eagle would strive to rob a hawk of a fish. He 
 knew that food an' another chance of life lay 
 at his hand. 
 
 "The nearness of his goal, the sight of his 
 vessel in the bay, his love for life, an' the one 
 fragment of food the snail gave him the 
 strength of a superhuman effort, an', inchin' him- 
 self over the level ground as a wounded cater- 
 pillar crawls, Bill drew himself toward the bushes. 
 
 "The victorious eagle flew in circles above him, 
 utterin' harsh cries, hatin' to leave the fish it 
 had fought to get an' yet afraid to approach the 
 strange creature which crawled nearer and nearer 
 to the flashin' trout. 
 
 "How the starvin' man reached the fish he 
 never knew, but at last he held it in his hand, 
 still wet an' quiverin', an' never stopped chewin' 
 until he had stripped the last bone of the rich, 
 juicy pink flesh. 
 
 "Overcome with his efforts, Wabash Bill fell 
 asleep an' slept until noon of the seventh day. 
 On wakenin', he found his strength was wonder- 
 fully renewed by the meal of raw fish, an' so
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 229 
 
 continued his weary journey at once. Gamely he 
 struggled on an' at last dragged himself out on 
 the wet rocks of the beach. 
 
 "His ship lay some 200 fathoms away. She 
 had been standin' up and down the bay for a week, 
 in a vain search for her missin' commander. A 
 sailor on the deck stood unseein', while the cap- 
 tain feebly waved his arm an' strove to call out. 
 
 "Presently the man began workin' at the 
 anchor chain. The schooner was preparin ' to get 
 under way. 
 
 "He was to die, after all, at the very door of 
 hope! 
 
 "Then, with a last despairin' effort, this man 
 who had gone as far in sufferin', I guess, as 
 any .man has ever done, staggered to his feet for 
 the first time since the bear struck him down, an' 
 throwin ' his last ounce o ' strength into an animal- 
 like cry, fell face downwards among the rocks. 
 
 "The man on the deck of the schooner saw his 
 captain fall an' all hands got busy with a rush. 
 Signal guns were fired to tell the searchers on 
 the beach to return to the ship, an' a boat put 
 out on the instant, with stimulants, food an ' medi- 
 cines.
 
 2 3 o WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "They found Wabash Bill delirious, emaciated, 
 an' covered with innumerable wounds in a shock- 
 in' state. 
 
 "Rollin' him in a blanket, they took him aboard 
 an' made all speed for Sitka. Arrivin' there on 
 the evenin' of the 14th, the eighth day after the 
 captain had left the ship, Wabash Bill was hurried 
 to the Naval Hospital. 
 
 "Surgeon H. G. Grieve reported the captain's 
 injuries to be: 1, a broken nose, with the bone 
 badly crushed into the flesh; 2, the bone exposed 
 over the right temple; 3, the left ear hanging by 
 shreds at the top and bottom; 4, two severe scalp 
 wounds, exposing the bone of the skull; 5, the 
 right forearm and shoulder badly bitten ; 6, bones 
 of the right wrist crushed and displaced by bite 
 showing where the huge bear's teeth met; 7, deep 
 wound in the left thigh; 8, two large wounds on 
 the right thigh; 9, five severe bites in the right 
 leg; 10, right leg swollen and black with a 
 tendency to become gangrenous ! In all, no f ew T er 
 than 64 separate bad wounds were counted, not to 
 mention deep scratches an' bruises, many of the 
 wounds infected an' all in a bad state." 
 
 "Did he die?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "Thirty-seven days later," the hunter replied,
 
 EARTH'S LARGEST CARNIVORE 231 
 
 "Wabash Bill was discharged from the hospital 
 in good physical condition, an' he left Sitka next 
 day, expressin' his intention to go back to Kod- 
 man Bay an ' get even with the bear which mauled 
 him. Those are the kind of men America 
 breeds," the hunter concluded, "but even so you'll 
 understand why I'm not achin' to have a set-to 
 with a Kodiak bear." 
 
 "But do you think," the boy asked, "that track 
 I saw can be that of a Kodiak?" 
 
 "I don't, for a minute," the hunter answered, 
 "but whatever it is, you an' I will hike down to-' 
 morrow to see. We can't have bears with a six- 
 teen-inch track roaming loose over the Sangre de 
 Cristo Mountains, not while I'm around!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 
 
 seriously, now," said the hunter, the 
 following morning, as he and Gavan squatted 
 on their heels in front of the camp fire, eating 
 breakfast, "how big do you think that track was?" 
 
 "I was speaking seriously last night," an- 
 swered Gavan. "Honest, I was ! I measured the 
 print by spanning it with my two hands and it 
 was more than sixteen inches." 
 
 "An' how wide!" 
 
 "It wasn't very wide, four or five inches I 
 should say. I didn't measure the width." 
 
 "An' goin' down-hill?" the hunter queried. 
 
 The boy thought for a moment. 
 
 "Why, yes, it was," he admitted, "but what 
 made you think that?" 
 
 The hunter smiled. 
 
 "We'll go and have a look at it anyhow," he 
 
 said, "but I'm layin' ten to one that it isn't a 
 
 Kodiak bear, that's sure. It may not even be a 
 
 grizzly, son, it may only be a good-natured hulk 
 
 232
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 233 
 
 of a black bear rummagin ' around for ants ' eggs, 
 or grubs or the like." 
 
 "It seems queer," said Gavan, "when you come 
 to think of it, that a body as big as that of a bear 
 should secure its enormous strength from ants' 
 eggs, and bugs, and berries and stuff of that sort. 
 One would expect a grizzly to be pulling down 
 cattle and antelope and game of that sort all the 
 time. But I suppose he can't run fast enough 
 to catch them." 
 
 "Don't you fool yourself about a bear's not 
 bein' able to run," the hunter answered. "That 
 shufflin', flat-footed gait doesn't look as if it 
 amounted to much, but if ever a bear takes after 
 you, don't try to get out of his way by runnin'. 
 No, siree! You head for a tree an' shin up it 
 like you were a scared cat." 
 
 "That would be all right for a grizzly," Gavan 
 agreed, "but how about a black bear? I thought 
 black bears could climb trees." 
 
 "They can," the hunter replied, "an', when 
 pursued by dogs, sometimes they will. But, 
 ninety times out of a hundred, if a black bear's 
 chasm' you an' you go up a tree, he'll give up the 
 chase. Of course, if he's slightly wounded an' 
 mad plumb through, he may climb after you an'
 
 234 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 matters will become mighty unpleasant if you 
 haven't a gun. Wait till we get on the trail an' 
 I'll tell you what happened to a hunter I knew 
 some years ago in Colorado." 
 
 While Gavan saddled his ponies, McLeod took 
 the haunch of an aged burro which had been killed 
 that morning for bear-bait a couple of days before, 
 and loaded it and a big bear-trap on a pack -mule 
 which the boy had also brought up when he 
 wrangled and corralled horses. Started on the 
 trail toward the huge bear track that Gavan 
 had seen the day before, the boy asked McLeod 
 for the promised story. 
 
 "That Colorado hunter who escaped from the 
 bear f " the hunter queried. ' * It was a queer start, 
 as I remember, it happened something this way: 
 Shortly before noon this chap had seen a black 
 bear a long way off an' had shot at him. The bear 
 scrambled away without seemin' much hurt but 
 this fellow followed up the trail. Presently he 
 got good an' hungry an' sat down to take a lunch 
 o' cold fried trout he had brought along. He was 
 a systematic sort of cuss an' had brought along 
 all the proper fixin's, even to a little screw-top 
 bottle o' salt an' pepper mixed, which he kept 
 in his pocket.
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 235 
 
 ' 'Just while he was takin' a bite, he heard a roar 
 behind him an' saw the bear chargin' out of the 
 bushes. His rifle an' six-s'hooter were both in 
 the saddle holsters an' the horse, grazin', was 
 maybe twenty yards away. 
 
 "There wasn't much time for thinkin' what to 
 do, but this old-timer made about three jumps 
 to the nearest tree, the bear bein' only about a 
 jump an' a half behind him. He swung himself 
 up into the branches an' began to slide aloft as 
 fast as he could. The bear, although an adult, 
 bein' angry because o' the shot, commenced to 
 climb after him. 
 
 "This was more than a trifle annoyin', for the 
 hunter had no weapon with him except his huntin' 
 knife, an' he had savvy enough to know that you 
 can't make a hole in a bear's skull with a knife. 
 Then, feelin' in his pockets, his fingers closed 
 around the small bottle, an' a great idea hit him. 
 Pourin' a handful of the mixed salt an' pepper 
 in his hand, he waited until the bear was right 
 close an' dashed half of it full in the beast's eyes. 
 The bear roared with pain an' surprise, an' the 
 old-timer chucked the rest of it into the open 
 mouth. 
 
 "His little pig-like eyes smarcin' like he'd been
 
 236 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 stung by yellow- jackets an' his throat smartin' so 
 that he started coughin' like a lunger, the bear 
 backed down the tree, an' the minute he touched 
 ground, he set off as fast as his legs would carry 
 him, coughin' and sneezin' as he went. I guess 
 that's the only time I ever heard of a bear being 
 rousted by a pepper-pot. 
 
 "But, son, as I said before, don't trust to 
 your legs if you get into close quarters with a 
 bear. If you can't find a tree, play 'possum 
 rather than run. A grizzly can chase down a herd 
 of cattle any time, except upon. a flat, open plain. 
 In a park-like stretch, like where you rounded up 
 the ponies this mornm', a bunch of steers, at top 
 speed, can just about keep ahead of a pursuing 
 bear, but if the trail narrows an' gets rocky, or 
 if the bunch turns into undergrowth, an' 
 especially thick timber, a bear can catch a steer 
 as quickly as a terrier can a rat. An' one blow 
 of the big forepaw of a full-grown grizzly will 
 knock down the biggest steer that ever tossed a 
 horn on the Staked Plains." 
 
 ''Then why," asked Gavan again, "doesn't a 
 grizzly stick to that kind of grub?" 
 
 "I suppose for the same reason that you don't
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 237 
 
 want to eat nothin' but meat all the while," the 
 hunter answered. 
 
 "Why should he? A bear is what books call an 
 'epicure.' He's a huge intractable despot, if you 
 like, but his eatin' is wide an' promiscuous. No 
 other beast that I ever heard of will eat so many 
 different kinds of food as a grizzly. He '11 eat any 
 kind of fruits, grubs, roots, vegetables an' every 
 kind o' flesh except human an' coyote. Old 
 Ephraim just dotes on acorns, ants, an' grass- 
 hoppers. He has a likin' for apples an' peaches, 
 in season, an' yet will take all sorts o' risks with 
 his big carcass to dine off a young colt. He'll 
 travel miles to lap wild honey from a tree and will 
 eat watermelons an' green corn by the bushel. 
 He likes raw potatoes an' will run an awful chance 
 to snatch a porker from a sty. He can make a 
 meal from an ant-hill, an' will rob birds' nests 
 every chance he gets. Queerest of all to see, I 
 think, is the way he'll sit motionless for hours on 
 the bank of a mountain stream an' watch his 
 chance to snatch a fish from the water. 
 
 "The bear isn't really a carnivorous animal, ex- 
 clusively. Even the Polar Bear, which comes 
 nearest to the carnivores, will eat berries on the
 
 238 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Arctic tundra in the summer-time, though his 
 regular meal is seal, young walrus an' fish. But, 
 while a bear is omnivorous, I never heard of a 
 grizzly that didn't need a meal of fresh meat, now 
 an' again, though much of it seems to be bad for 
 their stomachs." 
 
 "Why?" asked Gavan. 
 
 1 ' Well," said the hunter, "I've noticed that 
 whenever a bear takes to eatin ' a lot o ' fresh meat 
 an' especially if he gets to robbin' farmers of 
 their pigs he seems to get a violent indigestion. 
 I've seen 'em, in patches of camas or wild lily, 
 diggin' up an' eatin' the pungent, bitter roots, 
 with tears runnin' from their eyes an' bawlin' 
 with pain from the burnin' taste. That's the 
 same root, you know, that some o' the Indians used 
 to eat in famine time, mixin' it with clay so that it 
 shouldn't gripe the stomach too much. An' you 
 can take it as good sign that a bear which is eatin' 
 camas root is a bear which has started cattle an' 
 hog killin' an' is a good one to go after. 
 
 "Of course," he continued, "the habit that most 
 bears have o' turnin' over stones to lick up the 
 ants' eggs an' the white grubs which live beneath 
 'em, affords a good way of trackin' an' you would
 
 Courtesy of ('. S. Forest Service. 
 
 WYOMING BLACK BEAR TAKING HIS EASE. 
 
 Copyright by Frt-ilericJc K. Vreeland. 
 
 OLD UNCLE EPHRAIM. 
 
 The grizzly hear rarely becomes a cattle-killer, but when he does, the 
 losses he causes are enormous.
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 239 
 
 be surprised at the size o' the stones they can 
 turn over. Then, again, a rotten tree ripped to 
 shreds is another sign that a bear has been feedin' 
 on the big white grubs that make long galleries 
 under the bark. They will pick 'em out with their 
 long slender claws as neatly as you could spear a 
 potato on a fork. The armed feet of a grizzly are 
 a sort o' combination of a crane an' a crowbar, 
 a pick an' shovel, knife, fork, spoon, an' forceps. 
 A bear can use two of his claws as delicately as a 
 Chinaman's chopsticks, yet a slap of his paw is 
 like being hit with the side of a mountain. It's 
 a darn good thing that bears, as a whole, are such 
 good-natured beasts or they'd be more dangerous 
 than man-eatin' tigers." 
 
 "But you think an unwounded bear isn't ever 
 dangerous"?" asked the boy. 
 
 "Never," said the hunter, with assurance. "If 
 you'll let them alone, they'll let you alone. A 
 black bear will scamper away like a mouse. A 
 grizzly, especially a she-bear with cubs, isn't so 
 easily scared. Unlike most of the wild folk, she 
 doesn't get flurried. She isn't quarrelsome, 
 exactly, as you might say, but careful of her dig- 
 nity. If the trail is narrow, it is wiser for you to
 
 2 4 o WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 make room than to force her to do it. If you 
 step aside, she '11 pass you as politely as a French- 
 man. 
 
 ''There's another thing, too, about bears," the 
 hunter continued, " an' that is that there's more 
 individual variation among them than there is 
 about most kinds of animals. You can't always 
 tell what a grizzly is goin' to do, especially, as I 
 said, a she-bear, but there's one thing dead sure, 
 an' that is, that whatever she is going to do will 
 be done durn quick. The flat-footed walk gives 
 the impression of a slow animal, but the bear isn't 
 slow-witted. His brain acts like chain-lightnin ' 
 an' his muscles respond just as quick. 
 
 "When you see a grizzly, Gavan, if you ever 
 do, make up your mind quickly whether to shoot 
 or to keep still. If you're goin' to shoot, wait 
 until you can get him side on an' aim with killm' 
 effect in the neck to break the spinal column. I, 
 myself, have seen a bear, shot through the heart, 
 go on runnin' at full speed an' strike a blow, 
 which, had it reached, would have smashed me 
 into pulp. 
 
 "I remember once " 
 
 Here the hunter broke off suddenly, as the boy 
 reined up his pony.
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 241 
 
 * ' There are the tracks, ' ' said Gavan. 
 
 The hunter smiled. 
 
 "I saw them five minutes ago," he said ; "the 
 bear walked along this very trail we've been 
 ridin'. It's a grizzly, I should judge, but not a 
 very big one. ' ' 
 
 "But the track!" exclaimed Gavan. 
 
 "I knew last night," the hunter answered, 
 "what had fooled you about that track. It isn't 
 very wide, is if?" 
 
 "No," said Gavan, "I'd noticed that." 
 
 "Now," continued the hunter, "if you'll think 
 for a minute, you'll see there couldn't be a bear 
 with a track sixteen inches long an' only four or 
 five inches wide. Bears don't walk on skis! If 
 the track is four or five inches wide, it can't be 
 more than nine or ten inches long. ' ' 
 
 ' ' But this is ! " declared Gavan, pointing at the 
 track. 
 
 The hunter glanced at it casually. 
 
 "If you'll notice," he said, "the bear was goin' 
 down-hill an' right here, the hill has a steep 
 slope. When the bear put his foot on the soft 
 earth thrown up out of a burrow, naturally it 
 would slide. You've been measurin' from the 
 place where the heel began to slide, to the place
 
 242
 
 243
 
 244 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 where the toes were when the foot stopped slidin'. 
 You could have a foot twenty-six inches long, in- 
 stead of sixteen, if the slide had been long 
 enough." 
 
 Gavan colored with confusion. 
 
 " Never mind, son," said the hunter, laughing, 
 "every one's got to learn some day. You've been 
 trappin' coyotes, an' they're so light on their feet 
 that you'd probably never see a case of a foot 
 slidin'. But a bear is a heavy an' apparently 
 clumsy creature, an' you'll find, sometimes, not 
 only where his foot has slid, but where all his feet 
 have given way under him an' he has sat down on 
 his rear end to toboggan down a shale slope. ' ' 
 
 "And I've brought you all this way for noth- 
 ing ! ' ' cried Gavan, his voice full of self -protest. 
 
 "Not much you haven't," answered the hunter, 
 "I wouldn't have brought the bait along unless I'd 
 thought there was some reason for it. I guessed, 
 up at the camp, that it was a case of a slidin' 
 foot, but I didn't like to say so until I was sure. 
 But, in any case, Gavan, the track is one of an 
 average-size grizzly, an', now I'm here, I'll set a 
 trap for him. 
 
 "Now, lad," he continued, "you've done a lot 
 of trapping although of a different character.
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 245 
 
 If I were to tell you to set a trap, where would you 
 set it?" 
 
 The lad thought a moment. 
 
 "I don't think I'd know how to begin," he ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 "Why not!" 
 
 ''Well, McLeod," the boy said, "I know how to 
 set traps for coyotes, by using the 'smell tele- 
 phone,' but bears haven't got the same habits. 
 In any case, you're going to use bait. I suppose, 
 like any trapping, the first thing to do is to find 
 out where the bears travel and then set the trap 
 in the least suspicious way." 
 
 ' ' That 's the main trouble, with bears, though, ' ' 
 the hunter objected, "they don't travel regular 
 trails. You see, Gavan, a wolf or a coyote hasn't 
 got much to turn him off from his ordinary trail. 
 He doesn't start huntin' until he gets the scent or 
 the sight of his prey. He'll travel, maybe for 
 miles, without ever gettin' a smell of anythin' 
 which suggests food. A coyote, can, if necessary, 
 go a week without a meal. 
 
 1 'It's different with a bear. He comes out of 
 his winter-long sleep lookin' maybe almost as fat 
 as when he lay down three months before. It 
 isn't real fat, though, for in a week or two at the
 
 246 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 most, all that fat disappears. I suppose the bear 
 has really been absorbin ' the nutritive value of the 
 fat during his sleep, an' what remains is only 
 empty cells. Anyway, a big bear will lose a hun- 
 dred pounds in weight during the first two or 
 three weeks after hibernation." 
 
 * * Can 't he eat enough to catch up I " queried the 
 boy. 
 
 ' ' So far as I can make out, ' ' the hunter replied, 
 " after his several months' sleep, his stomach 
 seems to be out of order. He can't digest a full 
 meal. He'll start feedin' on grass-shoots, tender 
 roots an' the like. He won't even eat ground 
 squirrels or field-mice, for a few days. It's a 
 mistake to suppose that the bear comes out of 
 hibernation ravin' hungry an' seekin' what he 
 may devour. A month later, maybe, but not at 
 first. 
 
 "But, as I was savin', a bear isn't like a wolf 
 or coyote which can go a long time without a meal. 
 A bear eats all the time, not because he's om- 
 nivorous, but rather, he's omnivorous because he 
 has to eat all the time. That big carcass requires 
 a lot o' food to keep it goin'. An', since his food 
 is what he finds, rather than what he catches, 
 nearly every time a bear crosses a mountain
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 247 
 
 range, he takes a different trail. What would be 
 the use of turnin' over the stones he turned over 
 before, when fifty feet to one side or the other he'd 
 find a new lot, many o' them concealin' the juicy 
 though small morsels which go to make a meal? 
 That's what makes the bear such a persistent 
 traveler, an' why he'll scramble up and down 
 hills, over fallen timber an' through tangled 
 underbrush, where other animals stick to regular 
 trails." 
 
 "But they must follow some well-worn trails 
 through the passes, and places like that," the boy 
 suggested. 
 
 "Of course," the hunter answered. "As you 
 know yourself, all these valleys narrow every once 
 in a while to box canyons where there's only one 
 trail." 
 
 "Then," said Gavan, his eyes brightening with 
 a possible suggestion, "why not put the bear-trap 
 right on one of these trails?" 
 
 The hunter laughed outright. 
 
 "You'd catch somethin' in such a trap," he 
 said, "an' you'd catch it right away. But it 
 would probably be a cow or a horse, likely. An' 
 a bear-trap, weighing 42 pounds, designed to 
 catch an' hold a grizzly, would break a cow's or a
 
 248 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 horse's leg like you can snap the stem of a clay 
 pipe between your fingers. The animal would 
 have to be shot, an' you'd have to pay for it." 
 
 "Yes," agreed the boy thoughtfully, "I suppose 
 you would. But if you can't set a trap in the 
 trail, and if the bear doesn't travel by the same 
 path, and if you can't lure him with a scent, what 
 can you do?" 
 
 1 ' That, ' ' said the hunter, * * is where the trick o ' 
 bear-trappin ' comes in. You have to cover a 
 much wider range with bear-traps than for any 
 other animal, because the bear rambles so much 
 an' his habits are irregular an' various. Just as, 
 in the case o' the coyote, you have to use caution 
 not to let the man-smell get on your set; so, in 
 the case of the bear, you have to work on another 
 sense, his curiosity. 
 
 "Now a coyote is one of the sneakiest animals 
 that walks. He 's not as wise as the wolf, but he 's 
 a lot more timid. The bear is altogether different. 
 Once in a while he 's as timid as a coyote or he can 
 be wise, as wise of a wolf, but generally he 's just 
 a hulkin' good-natured brute. He doesn't like 
 man-smell, any more than any o ' the wild creatures 
 do, but he's a long way from bein' as scared of
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 249 
 
 it. He thinks he's quite able to take care of him- 
 self an' often enough, he's willin' to take a chance. 
 
 ' ' Let's think a minute as to a bear's habits. 
 First of all, he's a thirsty soul, an' rambles along 
 near water. You're never half as likely to catch 
 a bear in a valley with a dry creek as in one with 
 runnin' water. If there are fish in the stream, so 
 much the better, for Mr. Bear is a good fisherman. 
 It's a sight to see, the way he'll crouch beside a 
 stream an' when a fish comes into sight, scoop 
 him out with a lightnin' stroke of his clawed paw. 
 Your trap, then, should be set in a valley where 
 there is a runnin' stream, but not necessarily near 
 the water. 
 
 "Next, you want to remember that a bear, 
 different from a coyote or a wolf, isn't always on 
 the look-out for danger. He doesn't circle 
 around a bush or shrub because of the fear that 
 it will conceal an enemy. He 's not afraid of two 
 trees growing closely together. On the contrary, 
 he's more apt than not to pass between them." 
 
 "Why?" asked Gavan. 
 
 "I don't know in the least," the hunter frankly 
 admitted, u unless it may be he hopes there may 
 be a rotten log on the other side of them an' a
 
 250 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 meal of grubs to be found. That 's about all I can 
 figure out of it. Anyway, lie nearly always does 
 it." 
 
 4 'Then," suggested the boy, "I suppose one 
 could put a trap between two trees. " 
 
 "You could," the hunter agreed, "only you 
 don't always find trees growin' exactly that way, 
 or, if they do, they might be young trees which 
 have no special attraction for the bear. He 
 knows, even better than you do, the kinds of trees 
 which are most likely to contain grubs. But, if 
 you're lucky enough to find two trees like that in 
 or near a trail which bears have to travel, for 
 example, comin' out of a narrow canyon, that 
 makes a good place to set. 
 
 "At the same time, Gavan, don't forget the 
 question of cattle. Any twin trees which are wide 
 enough apart for a bear to pass are wide enough 
 for a yearlin' to pass, an' you don't want to catch 
 a yearlin' in a bear-trap. But," and he tapped 
 his saddle-horn lightly, "there's a way to stop 
 that. A bear, even a big bear, will not stand more 
 than three feet at the shoulders, a yearlin' will 
 stand four feet, or higher. If, therefore, you 
 fasten a pole across the openin' between the trees, 
 about three feet six in height, a bear will go under
 
 Courtesy of " Outing " Alayazlne. 
 
 OUT FOR THEIR FIRST WALK. 
 
 Bear cubs are born in the winter, and generally their first experience of 
 out-o'-doors is when snow still lies on the ground.
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 251 
 
 without noticin' it, but cattle will see the pole an' 
 go round. That way, you can put a trap right in 
 the middle of a cattle country, without bein' 
 afraid of catchin' stock. 
 
 "Now," he continued, "I noticed as I came 
 down, a tree set just that way, maybe a quarter of 
 a mile away. I'll set this trap there. Maybe 
 we'll catch Mr. Bear, maybe not. But you mustn't 
 expect, Gavan, to catch as many bear as you do 
 coyotes. If I get a couple in a month, I reckon 
 I'm doin' well, while you want a couple of coyotes 
 every night. That's the difference. Now I'll 
 show you how I go to work to set my traps, though 
 you've got to remember, Gavan, that no two bear- 
 traps are exactly alike. The sets have got to vary 
 with the country. A bear isn't so cautious, but, 
 just the same, there's no use o' doin' anythin' to 
 awake his suspicion. 
 
 "First of all," the hunter remarked, "if this 
 trap is goin' to set between the trees, we've got 
 to put the burro haunch on one side of it. We 
 can't put the bait on the top of the trap, or the 
 bear would come, pick up the bait an' walk away 
 with it. Don't forget that the neck-muscles of a 
 bear are strong enough to enable him to lift up an' 
 carry off a well-grown calf, without the animal's
 
 252 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 hoofs draggin' on the ground. So, we've either 
 got to put the bait in the middle, between two 
 traps which is a very good set or else block up 
 one side, so that the bear can only approach the 
 bait from the side in which the trap is hidden." 
 
 " Build a pen, then," suggested the boy, "and 
 put the trap in the mouth. If a bear isn't suspi- 
 cious, he'll walk right in." 
 
 "He might," the hunter agreed, "an' again, 
 he mightn't. Makin' a pen of stakes driven into 
 the ground means that every single stake would 
 have the smell of new-cut wood an' the smell of 
 the steel of the ax, as well as the handlin' of each 
 stake. It's all right to set a trap in an old pen or 
 abandoned corral that the bear is used to. But 
 I think I can show you even a better plan than 
 that," 
 
 He dismounted and turned his horse loose to 
 graze, Gavan following. 
 
 "Here are my two trees," he said. "Now the 
 first thing to be done is to make sure that cattle 
 don't walk into the trap. There's a dead tree 
 lyin' over there, Gavan. Fetch it here." 
 
 "No," he called, as the boy came nearer, "carry 
 it if you can, don 't drag it ! " 
 
 The tree, probably seven inches at the butt, was
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 253 
 
 fairly heavy, but the boy staggered along with it. 
 
 "Now," said the hunter, "we'll put the butt on 
 the ground an' slide the tree itself between the 
 two big trees, pinchin' it tight. You can put a 
 stone against the butt an' there you've got a 
 natural obstacle which will keep any cow from 
 tryin' to go through, an' at the same time won't 
 arouse a bear's suspicions. Fallen trees, caught 
 in other trees, are a part of his daily experience. 
 
 "Next," he continued, "on the lower side of the 
 trees we'll roll a big stone, not so as to close the 
 openin', but to keep the bear from walkin' toward 
 the bait that way. If he comes down-stream, 
 which is the most likely, he'll see an' smell the 
 bait from the proper side, but if he comes up- 
 stream, he isn't likely to get a whiff of it until 
 after he has passed the trees. Then, if he goes 
 back to get at the meat, he '11 put one of his fore- 
 paws in the trap, an' bang! we'll have him. 
 
 "Of course," he added, as he dug a hole in the 
 ground and hid the trap in the same manner that 
 Gavan did the traps for coyotes, "the bait has got 
 to be staked down good and hard, lest the coyotes 
 should carry it away." 
 
 "I was just thinking about that," said Gavan. 
 "What will happen if a coyote steps on the trap?"
 
 254 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Nothin V' answered the hunter, "no more than 
 when a rabbit runs over your coyote trap, or a 
 bird lands on it. These bear-traps, weighing 42 
 pounds, have got to have a weight o' three hun- 
 dred pounds to spring them. Maybe, if by chance 
 a full-sized timber wolf happened to step right on 
 the pan, the trap would go off, but nothin' smaller 
 would do it. An' a timber-wolf is as much worth 
 catchin' as a bear. Besides, if the bait is staked 
 down hard, before the bear can succeed in pullin' 
 up the stake, he will be forced to dig an' stamp 
 round a bit, just gettin' his feet in the trap. If 
 it were not staked, Mr. Bear might simply come 
 along, stretch out a long neck an' reachin' forward 
 grab an' haul away the meat without puttin' his 
 feet in the spot so nicely fixed up for him." 
 
 This work had taken some time, and the morn- 
 ing was wearing along before it was completed. 
 
 "Before we start to catch a mess of fish for 
 lunch," the hunter then said, "we might as well 
 visit the other bear-trap th?t I have in this gully. 
 I haven't caught anythin' in the set for over two 
 months, but you never can tell. It ought to be a 
 good set. Some bear or other had killed a horse 
 there, durin' the winter, an' though there's nothin' 
 left but the bones an' a few shreds of hide, I've
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 255 
 
 noticed that there's fresh sign along the gully 
 every few weeks or so." 
 
 The two rode along quietly, when suddenly a 
 faint sound was heard, not much louder than the 
 creaking of one tree against another, but the 
 hunter's horse, a mettlesome brute, a bigger ani- 
 mal than the cow-ponies of the neighborhood, 
 reared and tried to bolt. 
 
 "Bear!" said the hunter. "We've got him. 
 Got a halter on your horse?" 
 
 "Yes," said Gavan. 
 
 "Tie him," said the hunter, dismounting, "an' 
 tie him right. There's nothin' that a horse is so 
 much afraid of as a bear. Your gun loaded?" 
 
 "Sure!" answered Gavan. 
 
 "Take it," said McLeod. "It doesn't pay to 
 take any chances with a bear. ' ' 
 
 "But you're leaving yours," protested the boy. 
 
 The hunter partly pulled out his six-shooter. 
 
 "This is a Luger," he said, "with foreign am- 
 munition, and while I don't know that it's any 
 more powerful or accurate than a Colt or any 
 other American-made gun, I know that it will 
 break a bear 's neck, if shot right. I 'II tackle any- 
 thing with that in my 'chapps' pocket. Are you 
 ready? Come along."
 
 256 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 With every sense alert, Gavan followed the 
 hunter. 
 
 "The trap was set back there a ways," the 
 hunter said, "but Mr. Bear has been tryin' to get 
 away." 
 
 "How can he?" asked the boy, "don't you stake 
 the trap?" 
 
 "No, siree!" the hunter answered, "I don't 
 even try. Didn't you notice? The chain of the 
 trap is fastened to a log, which acts as a clog. He 
 can drag it, but not fast. ' ' 
 
 An angry roar rolled up the creek valley. 
 
 "Black bear, I should reckon," remarked the 
 hunter, staring down at the faintly distinguishable 
 tracks, "but a good-sized one." 
 
 "We ought to see him pretty soon," said Gavan, 
 excitement surging through him and his voice 
 singing in his ears as though it came from far 
 away. 
 
 Then, so close that the echoes of it trembled 
 in the ears with the vibration like thunder, the 
 trapped bear, as yet unseen, cried his resentment 
 and distressed alarm. The cry broke from his 
 throat hoarsely and menacingly, a bestial threat- 
 ening of fury yet, at the end of it, was a small
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 257 
 
 almost-human whimper, a little tremolo of fear, 
 perhaps, or at least of uncertainty. 
 
 Breasting their way through the dense shield 
 of juniper and gray live-oak thickets, Gavan and 
 the hunter had come so close now that they could 
 hear the long sobbing breaths of the bear as he 
 wrestled with that devilment of steel on his paw, 
 that mechanism of evil, which had no life in itself 
 and yet clung so fast and pained so desperately. 
 Again a clang resounded through the forest as he 
 struck the trap against a tree, even as a man with 
 a toothache grinds his teeth although it intensifies 
 the pain. 
 
 A coughing growl broke from the yet hidden 
 creature, and in the stillness that followed, Gavan 
 heard the bear 's fangs go crunching in a shocking 
 rage against the hardened metal. 
 
 Once more he bawled, then crashing through the 
 shrubs he came full into view. 
 
 A big black bear, menacing in his proportions, 
 he lurched out into the open. Even in his agony, 
 he could not escape the ungainly human-like char- 
 acter which has ever made a black bear the moun- 
 tebank of the woods. There was an infinite 
 pathos in his clown-like movements, the more so
 
 258 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 that one felt that they were terrible. Blood 
 streaked his slavering jaws where he had bitten 
 the trap and his Jttle eyes, set deeply like a pig's, 
 glittered with alarm and anger. 
 
 He saw the two men, shortsighted though he 
 was, and, too full of suffering to be wary, lunged 
 forward. 
 
 As he heaved his great shoulder forward, limp- 
 ing, the clog, dragging on its chain, clinched 
 against the roots of a scrub-oak and halted him 
 with a jerk. The bones of his foreleg, crushed by 
 the pressure of the 42-pound trap, must have 
 burned like fire and this wrench tore at his nerve. 
 Still, heeding more his anger than his pain, he 
 lurched forward only to be dragged back again as 
 the pliant but tough scrub-oak yanked back on 
 his broken wrist. In rage he struck at it and 
 stretched out his foreleg, but the clog was fast on 
 the tree. 
 
 The roar turned to a whimper, like a child who 
 has been punished for what fault it knows not, 
 then, clown-like, the hulking shape sat down on the 
 ground, like a man, and tried to break the trap 
 free. 
 
 But the strength of it, or his own keen agony, 
 was too much. Turning his back on his two foes,
 
 THE ENTRAPPED BEAR 259 
 
 he limped on three legs to the tree, freed the clog, 
 and then, like a fiend in his passion, stood up, 
 hugging the trap to his breast, and struck against 
 a great cottonwood tree that stood near by, bere- 
 sark in his rage. 
 
 Under these strokes, the bark flew like bullets 
 and every blow scored through to the wood be- 
 neath. But this sudden flight of passion ended as 
 swiftly as it came ; he dropped back and whimper- 
 ing anew, mawed over the griping steel. 
 
 Poor creature, all his craft, all his wit, all his 
 cunning had come to this! His marvellous 
 strength, sufficient to have torn limb from limb the 
 two human beings who stood staring at him, was 
 made of naught by this piece of steel; his tre- 
 mendous vitality, able to range the wildest moun- 
 tains in the fiercest weather, was sapped by that 
 iron clutch. 
 
 Poor creature, the fault was not his. No cattle- 
 killing grizzly this, but a rumbling big black bear, 
 who perhaps, but not surely, might once or twice, 
 in his life have dined on lamb or veal, yet who had 
 stumbled into the fate made for his biggers if 
 not his betters. There were tears in the boy's 
 eyes as he watched the clown of the woods in his 
 agony.
 
 2 6o WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Do you want to shoot him?" asked the hunter, 
 willing to give Gavan the pride of killing a bear. 
 
 But the boy shook his head and turned away. 
 
 "You shoot," he said, "I didn't trap the poor 
 beggar." 
 
 A revolver shot, just one, rang out in the woods. 
 There was a coughing growl, a clank of steel as the 
 trap fell for the last time. 
 
 The clown of the woods was dead.
 
 ^fe
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 
 
 "WE mightn't have got off that easy," re- 
 marked the hunter, a minute or two later, as he 
 stood over the prostrate carcass and commenced 
 to give his skinning knife an extra sharpening on 
 the whetstone that he always carried, "if that had 
 been a grizzly. I've seen grizzlies, even with a 
 trap on one foot, rise on their hind-legs, clasp the 
 heavy clog to their chest like a woman does a child 
 an' make a rush." 
 
 ' * But would they be dangerous, all crippled that 
 way?" asked the boy. 
 
 * * Dangerous enough. A beast that can lift with 
 his jaws a steer weighin' 800 pounds an' drag it 
 away isn't put out of business because he's got a 
 trap on his foot. It only makes him madder. It 
 keeps him from runnin' fast, that's all, an' if 
 you're spry enough an' your guns are workin' all 
 right, you can best him, every time. But even 
 when trapped they put up an ugly scrap." 
 261
 
 262 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 1 'Did you ever have a scrap with a grizzly?" 
 Gavan asked. 
 
 The hunter shook his head. 
 
 ''There's no need for me to," he said. "I'm 
 not huntin' grizzlies for sport an' thrillin' with 
 excitement an' the danger. Bear-huntin' an' 
 trappin' is my business. I make my livin' at it. 
 I suppose you'd call me a professional. I don't 
 trap, unless I'm pretty sure of a catch, an' I don't 
 shoot unless I'm sure of a kill. Nearly all these 
 stories of hand-to-hand encounters with grizzlies 
 are due to one thing a shot that has wounded an' 
 not killed. 
 
 "Any kind of game that's dangerous should 
 only be hunted with the best weapons as you 
 remember, Gavan, Blue Joe Keary was killed, not 
 because he was a poor shot, but because his gun 
 exploded. An', besides that, huntin' dangerous 
 big game needs caution more than anythin' else. 
 If I had a piece of advice to give to a young sports- 
 man, it would be: 
 
 " 'Never shoot unless you've got the weapon to 
 be sure to kill with, an' are near enough an' skil- 
 ful enough to be sure of a killin ' aim. ' 
 
 "One of the liveliest grizzly fights I personally 
 know about happened to my side-partner, 'Uncle
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 263 
 
 Ned Clark' 'n Wyoming. He an' another fellow, 
 half a city man, half ranchman, got mixed up with 
 five grizzlies at the same time." 
 
 "How did they come out?" 
 
 "They came out all right," said the hunter, con- 
 tinuing to skin the trapped bear as he narrated. 
 "I'll tell it to you, as near as I can, in the words 
 of the ranchman, who wrote up the story in a mag- 
 azine an' sent me a copy. I've read an' told the 
 yarn so often that I know it pretty well by heart 
 for, although I've been huntin' bears all my life, 
 as I said to you, I've had very few wild experi- 
 ences. 
 
 "This is the yarn: 1 
 
 " 'My first savings in life,' wrote this chap, 
 Elmer Frank, 'were invested in the 7HL horse 
 ranch, located in the heart of the mountains of 
 Wyoming, my brand numbering about 800 head. 
 This was my outfitting point and thither would I 
 
 i Mr. Caspar Whitney, one-time editor of Outing and a sports- 
 man himself of world-wide eminence, secured complete corrobora- 
 tion of this story from two other members of the party, one 
 of them being Judge H. J. David, a United States judge. The 
 other member of the party dressed the wounds of the injured 
 men, found and skinned the grizzlies and went over every foot 
 of the scene of the extraordinary combat. The story is regarded 
 by bear -hunters as one of the most unusual authentic accounts 
 on record.
 
 264 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 fly at the earliest approach of Indian summer, 
 that indescribably dreamy, restful season, only 
 experienced in its full glory along the base of the 
 main range of the Eockies. 
 
 " 'On the occasion to which this narrative re- 
 fers, I was accompanied by six guests, to wit, a 
 United States Judge, an army captain, two Omaha 
 lawyers, an ex-sheriff of Missouri, a British capi- 
 talist, an' to me, most important of all, a full- 
 fledged Texas cowboy, without whose brave and 
 timely assistance this story would never have been 
 penned. 
 
 " 'His name is Clark, Ed Clark, " Uncle Ned" 
 the punchers call him, which would indicate age. 
 As he was not forty, this was one of these unac- 
 countable misnomers peculiar to the far West. He 
 is far from handsome, resembling in form one of 
 his own, gnarled, timber-line scrub cedars, rather 
 than the slender growth of the lower altitude pine. 
 His wicked little eyes are black and piercing and 
 when animated, rival the rattlesnake's in their 
 scintillations of venomousness. Yet, when, crawl- 
 ing from under a dying bear, bruised, wounded 
 and faint from loss of blood, I saw that rugged 
 face through the willows not ten yards away, hail-
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 265 
 
 ing me with words of cheer, it had a halo sur- 
 rounding it. 
 
 " 'It was a battle royal, covering a period of 
 about twenty minutes, the details of which, as I 
 saw them, will ever remain indelibly stamped on 
 my memory. 
 
 " 'Five grizzly bears, weighing not less than 
 600 pounds each, threw down the gage of battle. 1 
 The issue was promptly accepted, from necessity, 
 as there was no escape, and the fight was on. 
 
 " 'Our camp was pitched in Halleck Canyon, at 
 the headwaters of several streams flowing in dif- 
 ferent directions, through a broken and moun- 
 tainous country. Game was in abundance and our 
 party had bagged its quota of elk, deer, antelope, 
 and mountain sheep. No bears had been sighted 
 as yet, though at our nightly campfire comparisons 
 of the day's events, each party had wonderful tales 
 to relate of encountering innumerable trails, fresh 
 beds, mutilated carcasses of game and other bear 
 sign indicating that they were banded together in 
 bunches ranging as high as thirteen.' " 
 
 "Thirteen!" interrupted Gavan in surprise. 
 
 i The author feels that Mr. Frank's statement here is a trifle 
 misleading. As the story itself shows, the fight was forced on 
 the bears. They made no attack until fired on.
 
 266 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Isn't that a large number for a sloth of bears!" 
 
 "It certainly is," the hunter answered, "six is 
 as many as I ever saw together. Maybe the tracks 
 looked like a lot more. That happens. 
 
 "Anyway, that particular morning, all the 
 party except Clark an' Frank made an early start 
 to try an ' trail the big sloth of bears whose tracks 
 had been seen crossin' a mountain meadow. 
 Frank was not feelin' well and Clark stayed to 
 keep him company. He goes on to tell the story : 
 
 " 'About three o'clock Clark proposed that we 
 ride out and kill a mess of blue grouse for our 
 companions, who would come home hungry after a 
 long chase, and we might prepare a smothered 
 feast for them against their homecoming. We 
 thereupon saddled our horses and proceeded 
 about two miles to the canyon of a little creek, 
 where a small lake had been formed by fallen 
 rocks turning the current of the stream. 
 
 " 'Here we came upon hot bear sign. 
 
 " 'After a hurried examination, Clark ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 tt i "T ne y are here on this creek the tracks 
 are fresh we flushed 'em when we rode up, an' 
 we're goin' to make a killin' sure."
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 267 
 
 " 'Here it is necessary to state,' Frank's story 
 states," the hunter continued, " 'that the horse 
 I rode on that day was a natty powerfully-built 
 cow-horse, swift as an antelope and mettlesome 
 as a Kentucky racer. He was the pick of eight 
 hundred, and when he scented the bears, he be- 
 gan to grow troublesome. However, I forced him 
 up the creek towards a patch of willows, about 
 seventy-five feet in width, the direction which the 
 bears had taken, Clark leading the way. 
 
 " 'These mountain willows grow in bunches, 
 their branches spreading and interlacing at the 
 tops, thereby making an almost impenetrable 
 thicket. 
 
 " 'Here our quarry evidently had retreated, and 
 a royal stronghold it was. On the opposite side 
 a perpendicular cliff arose, several hundred feet 
 in height, with a ledge about six feet in width 
 paralleling it and peering about three feet above 
 the top of the willows. On our side of the creek, 
 the canyon broadened into a sage-brush flat of 
 about two hundred yards in width and abutted 
 against the willows, forming an almost perpendi- 
 cular embankment about twelve feet in height. 
 
 " 'We were forcing our horses up onto this flat,
 
 268 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 despite their bucking with distended nostrils at 
 the smell of the bears, when Clark excitedly ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " ' "And, by thunder, there they are!" 
 " "The bush seemed to be alive with them as 
 they growled and leaped about and one big fellow 
 stood on his hind legs, with his head and breast 
 towering above the top of the willows, deliberately 
 surveying us, and hailing us with inquisitive 
 grunts.' " 
 
 Here the hunter broke off. He had finished 
 the skinning of the black bear that had been caught 
 in the trap and the energies of both he and Gavan 
 were needed to lift the heavy bearskin and fasten 
 it on the saddle of the hunter's pony, the horse 
 dancing around like one possessed, at the prox- 
 imity of the bear smell. Large chunks were cut 
 off from the hams for bear-meat is the finest 
 kind of eating and the tongue was removed as a 
 delicacy. The skull was disarticulated and partly 
 cleaned, afterwards being staked to the ground 
 near an ant-hill for the little creatures to finish 
 the work of cleaning the skeleton. The meat, 
 wrapped in a sack to keep from being blown by 
 the flies, was packed on Gavan 's saddle, and the 
 homeward ride to camp was begun.
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 269 
 
 "You were saying," said Gavan, as soon as the 
 narrow canyon was passed and the trail ran 
 through a small flat where two ponies could ride 
 abreast, " that Frank had just seen the bears, and 
 that an old chap was standing on his hind legs 
 sizing u^ the party. ' ' 
 
 "Sure," said the hunter, "I'll go on. 
 
 " 'Clark's horse was a gentle old pack animal, 
 and he had no trouble in quickly dismounting 
 and withdrawing his Winchester from its saddle 
 sling. He took deliberate aim and fired, Old 
 Bruin dropping dead in his tracks.' 
 
 "It certainly wasn't the bears who started the 
 trouble, then," the boy remarked. "All the old 
 fellow had done was to look at the two hunters." 
 
 "Sure," agreed McLeod, "Clark and Frank 
 were looking for trouble. An' they found it in 
 bunches ! 
 
 " 'During this short period,' Frank's story goes 
 on, 'I had succeeded in dismounting and was 
 fighting my horse in a vain endeavor to get my 
 Winchester, in turn, from its saddle sling. The 
 horse reared, plunged and kicked viciously, but I 
 held his bit with one hand and the gun with the 
 other until Clark fired his rifle. Then the con- 
 founded beast gave a mighty leap into space,
 
 270 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 broke my hold, sent me rolling into the sage-brush 
 and ran off with my gun.' 
 
 "Now," remarked McLeod, " a cautious man, 
 havin' no gun, would have made off at once to 
 catch his horse. There's no kind of use stayin' 
 around bears without a gun, an' no man Jlvin' can 
 protect two people with one rifle. The huntin' 
 fever had got into Frank's head, I guess, for he 
 goes on to say: 
 
 ' * * When I regained my feet, the commotion was 
 still going on in the brush and another bear got 
 on a rock and stood erect. Clark began to get a 
 little excited and exclaimed, 
 
 " ' "The woods is full of 'em! Look at 'em!" 
 
 " 'I told him to keep his head and blaze away, 
 which he did, wounding this fellow, who dropped 
 off his perch and began to bawl and kick up a 
 great row generally. 
 
 " 'Immediately three other bears stood on their 
 hind-legs, and the wounded one, regaining his feet, 
 they came for us with growls of rage. 
 
 " 'This was too much for me, being armed only 
 with a knife and the bears not ten jumps away. ' ' 
 
 "Pretty late to think about moving!" com- 
 mented Gavan, as he fell behind at the narrowing
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 271 
 
 of the trail, waiting anxiously until the creek 
 valley should open again and give him the chance 
 of hearing the rest of the story, which was re- 
 sumed as soon as the trail widened. 
 
 " 'I told Clark,' Frank's story continues, 'that 
 I was going to quit him and rustle my gun, which 
 I proceeded to do. As soon as I turned tail, I 
 ran for the horses, by this time about a hundred 
 and fifty yards away. Fortunately, the reins of 
 my horse had gotten entangled in the sage brush, 
 thus securely holding him. 
 
 " 'As I ran for dear life, I heard the sage brush 
 cracking behind me, but no more shots. I did 
 not dare look around, as I expected Clark was 
 down, and was mortally afraid that a bear would 
 grab me at every jump, so was intensely relieved 
 when he chirped, close at my back, 
 
 < "They made it too hot for me my car- 
 tridges ran out I had to quit 'em." 
 
 " 'Although he had plenty in his belt, his gun 
 was empty and he was too closely pressed to re- 
 load. 
 
 " 'I scrambled up the embankment and he 
 followed me closely. Thinking discretion the bet- 
 ter part of valor, he had not halted after firing the
 
 272 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 second shot, hence neither of us knew whether, at 
 this first charge, the bears reached the edge of the 
 embankment on which we stood. 
 
 " ' We hastily secured our horses, and I removed 
 my gun from the saddle-sling, making sure that it 
 was loaded. Clark also reloaded and we re- 
 turned to the field to redeem ourselves from the 
 stigma of so hasty and undignified a flight.' 
 
 "You see, Gavan," McLeod continued, "even 
 after bein' wounded, the bears made only one 
 charge, an' when the men cleared out, they were 
 ready enough to let 'em alone. Nothing very 
 quarrelsome about those grizzlies, eh?" 
 
 "I should say not," the boy answered, "I should 
 have thought that wounded one, anyway, would 
 have kept after the men. He'd have got them, 
 too, if he had, before they could have got their 
 guns out and reloaded." 
 
 "You'll see why the bear didn't," McLeod con- 
 tinued, and went on : 
 
 " 'We rode up and down the willow patch, 
 hallooed and threw rocks into it, but no sign of 
 life gave answer. 
 
 ' ' ' Thinking, of course, that the bears had taken 
 flight up the canyon, for they had to go either up
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 273 
 
 or down to get away, we followed the creek up 
 towards the extreme timber line, beating the brush 
 and exploring every possible hiding place. 
 
 " 'A hasty examination failed to disclose any 
 trail in that direction and we at once returned to 
 our battleground, about three miles down the 
 creek, feeling sure that we would rout them out 
 below that point. 
 
 11 'On our arrival there, we dismounted, went 
 into the bush, dressed the dead bear and dragged 
 him out with our lariats attached to the horns of 
 our saddles. 
 
 " ' As before stated, the willows grew in bunches 
 and interlaced at the tops and I was compelled to 
 walk in a crouching position and at times to crawl 
 on my hands and knees. I could not see ten feet 
 ahead of me and was thereby greatly handicapped. 
 
 " 'I had not proceeded twenty yards from the 
 point where Clark had left me when I was greeted 
 with a terrible growling and the crackling rush of 
 a heavy body. 
 
 " 'I fired and was embraced, it seemed to me, 
 almost simultaneously. 
 
 " 'The bear's mouth was wide open and he 
 towered 'way above me. I distinctly remember
 
 274 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 that, and instinctively ducked my head, knowing 
 that it would be crushed like an eggshell if ex- 
 posed. 
 
 " 'For this reason, when we came together, I 
 found my head upon his shoulder and im- 
 mediately clinched him around the body, holding 
 on for dear life and calling to Clark as I went 
 down under him. 
 
 " 'Of course, I had no idea of time, when in 
 that position, but Clark estimates it to have been 
 five or six minutes before he reached me and fired. 
 
 " 'He said he responded to my call immediately 
 and was guided to the spot by the racket that the 
 old bear was making. He had to move slowly 
 and cautiously for the thicket was full of bears and 
 he knew that if he got mixed up with one himself, 
 he would have no opportunity of coming to me. 
 
 " 'He was at a point only fifteen feet away 
 when he caught the first glimpse of us. 
 
 " 'He crouched down and waited some time for 
 the bear to expose a fatal spot at such an angle 
 that he could dare to fire without the chance of 
 hitting me. 
 
 " 'He saw that I was alive and staying with him. 
 
 " 'He could not shoot him in the heart, for my 
 head was there, nor could he see Bruin's head, and
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 275 
 
 he dared not move further for fear of attracting 
 the attention of the other bears and bringing them 
 down upon him. 
 
 " 'Becoming desperate, unable longer to stand 
 the suspense and the bear's back now being 
 turned to him, Clark took deliberate aim and 
 fired, the bullet entering the bear 's hip, plowing its 
 way just outside the ribs and lodging in the neck. 
 
 ' ' * There was a terrific crashing of brush, growl- 
 ing and bawling echoed all around me. Which- 
 ever way I looked, I could see bears either rising 
 on their hind-legs to look or rushing to and fro. 
 
 " 'My bear would rise up with me, shake me 
 like a rat and chuck me down again, threatening 
 to loosen every joint in my body, but I realized 
 that my only hope was to hold on. Suddenly I 
 felt his teeth tearing at my hip, the only spot of 
 my anatomy he could reach with his mouth, and 
 he literally tore my trousers and part of my heavy 
 calf-skin shapps from me. Had it not been for 
 the latter, he would have made short work of my 
 leg, then and there. 
 
 " 'I was in desperate straits and had almost 
 given up, thinking that Clark had deserted me. 
 
 ' * ' Then the thought of my knife in a scabbard 
 at my left side spun into my mind like a dream. I
 
 276 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 let go my right grip, worked my hand between 
 the grizzly's harsh fur and my body, and reached 
 my knife. 
 
 11 'To my horror I found it was tied to the 
 scabbard with a buckskin string, which I used to 
 keep the knife from jumping out of the scabbard 
 when I was in the saddle. I tried hard to untie 
 or break it, but Old Bruin did not see it that way. 
 
 " 'He let go my hip and seized my hand, 
 crunching through and through it. I never ex- 
 pected to see my hand again. 
 
 " 'In my dire distress, I thought nothing of it 
 at the time. It was only one hand! Did I not 
 have another one still left me ? I was just loosen- 
 ing my grip of the bear with it. 
 
 " 'Just at that second, to my indescribable joy, 
 I heard the sharp report of a Winchester, not 
 twenty feet away. 
 
 " 'It was Clark. 
 
 " 'I quickly struggled to my feet, 1 seized my 
 gun and turned just in time to see poor Clark go 
 down under the now doubly enraged and wounded 
 bear. 
 
 i It would appear from this that the bear released Frank im- 
 mediately upon receiving Clark's shot, although the writer of the 
 narrative does not definitely say so.
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 277 
 
 " 'It struck wickedly at him with its paw, hit- 
 ting the gun and sending it spinning in the air. 
 
 " 'True to hunters' tradition, Clark played 
 'possum in an admirable manner. He saw me get 
 on my feet, so he said afterwards, and thought I 
 would kill the bear before it hurt him very badly, 
 hence he lay perfectly still. But in this he was 
 doomed to disappointment. My gun was full of 
 sand and refused to work. I threw down the 
 lever and began working the sand out of it as 
 rapidly as possible. 
 
 " 'I saw my task was useless, the magazine re- 
 fused to give up its cartridges. 
 
 " 'It was an awful moment of suspense. 
 
 " 'I forgot myself in the quiet valor of poor 
 Clark. 
 
 ' ' ' One wrench on the lever and it sprang back 
 into place, but no cartridge came with it. 
 
 " 'I could only work with my left hand, and the 
 third finger of my right,' and it must have been 
 torture to move that mashed hand," the hunter 
 commented " 'but I quickly snatched a cartridge 
 from my belt and was thrusting it into the barrel 
 when another bear leaped on me from Sam knows 
 where! I'm sure I don't.
 
 278 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 " 'I went down in a heap under the crushing 
 weight, and poor Clark's heart almost stopped 
 beating when he heard me call: 
 
 n < "Here comes another one ! I can't help you 
 now! He's got me again!" 
 
 " 'I don't believe this bear hurt me at all, unless 
 it was my left arm, which had several teeth-holes 
 in it and was pinched until it was black from wrist 
 to shoulder the next morning, but I have no recol- 
 lection of when it was done. 
 
 ' * * This bear had evidently been wounded by one 
 of our shots, for he tore at the ground and chewed 
 at the willows, all the time he was over me, almost 
 burying me in dirt and broken sticks. 
 
 " 'Presently there was another roar and a crash 
 and Tophet broke loose again, which evidently 
 attracted my bear, as he left me suddenly as he 
 had attacked. 
 
 " 'I was nearly used up, but I had enough 
 strength left to regain a sitting position and get 
 hold of my gun once more, when Clark's bear, see- 
 ing me move, left him and came for me. 
 
 11 'I verily believe I made the last effort I was 
 capable of at the time, and just as he was com- 
 ing down on me, I poked my Winchester blindly 
 at him and pulled the trigger.
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 279 
 
 " 'He fell dead with his head on my chest, knock- 
 ing the breath out of me and I lapsed into uncon- 
 sciousness. My nap must have been a short one, 
 for I was awakened by Clark calling out: 
 
 " "Stay with 'em, Frank. You hit that one, I 
 saw him fall. Give him another. ' ' 
 
 " 'I opened my eyes, looking into those of the 
 dead bear on top of me. He didn't look a bit 
 dead, and it was a few moments before I could 
 persuade myself to make an effort to move, and 
 when I did so, it was as gingerly as one would 
 walk on eggs, fearing he would suddenly awaken 
 and make up for lost time. 
 
 " 'With considerable pain and labor, however, I 
 succeeded in extricating myself, and, bareheaded, 
 barelegged, with blood and sand smeared and 
 plastered over me from head to foot, torn, bleed- 
 ing, and sore, I dragged myself toward Clark, 
 who had retreated to and mounted the stone ledge 
 on the outer side of the brush. 
 
 " 'I had nearly reached him. 
 
 ' ' ' He was standing on the ledge waiting to help 
 me up. As I came nearer he asked me if I was 
 much hurt. I told him I felt as though I were 
 chewed to a sausage, but that I was indebted to 
 him for my assistance.
 
 2 8o WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 " 'Just at this moment, the remaining three 
 bears came on another furious charge. 
 
 " 'We fought them off three or four times, blaz- 
 ing away as they would leap over the brush to- 
 wards us, before I succeeded in reaching the ledge. 
 The smoke of our guns seemed to bewilder them, 
 for, after a volley, they would jump up into it, 
 bite and smack at it with their paws, and then re- 
 treat to their den, which, we then discovered, was 
 within a few feet of the place where they had 
 me in chancery. 
 
 " 'After the last charge they seemed content to 
 lie quiet, so Clark walked up the ledge about fif- 
 teen yards to try to peer into the den. He called 
 to me that he could see the entrance, and to look 
 out as he would throw a stone into it. As he 
 threw, I fired. 
 
 " 'We were answered by a howl and two bears 
 came straight at me. 
 
 ' ' ' Two lucky shots from my rifle finished them, 
 and they died in each other's arms at my feet near 
 the foot of the ledge. 
 
 " 'Clark was wild with delight. He was sure 
 that there was only one more and that one badly 
 wounded, as he was making the canyon ring and 
 echo to his wails of pain, so he washed my
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 281 
 
 wounds, tearing our handkerchiefs and shirts into 
 bandages to do the best piece of dressing possible 
 under the circumstances. 
 
 11 'We then deliberately sat down, for the first 
 time since the battle began, and discussed how we 
 should dispose of the remaining bear, who was 
 still as noisy as ever. Clark proposed to set fire 
 to the bush and burn him out, but it would not do 
 thus to destroy our precious pelts, and beside, 
 my only hat and the only one procurable within 
 a hundred miles was under one of the bears. 
 
 " 'Dusk was on us, and we must act quickly, 
 whereupon we determined to assault the den. 
 
 11 'We arrived within twenty or thirty feet of 
 our quarry, when a gust of wind blowing down the 
 canyon parted the willows and disclosed the old 
 fellow lying on his stomach with his head on his 
 forepaws, as if resting. I sent a bullet quickly 
 to his heart and quieted him forever. 
 
 " 'It was now almost dark and after dressing 
 our game, we struck out for camp which we 
 reached about nine o'clock. 
 
 " 'In all the encounter, Clark was fortunate 
 enough not to receive a scratch, and this fact 
 should be explained, if susceptible of explanation. 
 Old hunters say that a badly wounded grizzly will
 
 282 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 seize and hold on to the first object within reach 
 and expend its remaining strength in a desperate 
 endeavor to rend it to atoms. I have seen this 
 fact verified in at least half a dozen instances. 
 
 " 'In this case, when the bear, on being wounded 
 from the rear, sprang off me in its leap for Clark, 
 it grabbed a mouthful of willows and was crunch- 
 ing at them while over him, he meanwhile quietly 
 playing 'possum. This might explain why the 
 second bear did not make mincemeat of me, as both 
 of them died with their mouths full of brush.' " 
 
 The latter part of the 'Story had been broken 
 by frequent interruptions, as the trail narrowed or 
 became too rough for the two ponies to ride 
 abreast, and had been finished by the hunter after 
 Gavan and he had arrived at camp. 
 
 "I can show you," said the hunter, stopping 
 for a moment the cooking of supper which had 
 already been begun, "the letter sent by Judge 
 David backing up the story." 
 
 He disappeared into his small tent and appeared 
 again with a small magazine-clipping which he 
 read out loud : 
 
 "I believe it was in the fall of '89," the letter 
 ran, "when our party was in Wyoming. I re-
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 283 
 
 member very distinctly that all of the party ex- 
 cept Clark and Frank were out hunting during 
 the day, and, returning in the evening, we were 
 told that Frank and Clark had gone out late in the 
 afternoon after grouse. 
 
 "It was twilight when Estabrook (another of 
 the members of the party, who also wrote cor- 
 roborating the story) and I, who were bathing in 
 the stream a short distance from the camp, were 
 disturbed by the crazy shouts of Clark and Frank 
 returning to camp. They were the most victory- 
 intoxicated men I ever saw, notwithstanding that 
 Frank was scratched and bitten in several places, 
 though not seriously. 
 
 "We hastened to the camp, and the party 
 gathered and was told the story of the fight with 
 the five grizzlies, as Frank has written it. As I 
 remember, Frank was bitten in one hand, in the 
 arm, and in the buttock. We treated the wounds 
 in the best way we could and were somewhat 
 afraid of blood-poisoning. You may be assured 
 that we got very little sleep that night and were 
 out early in the morning. 
 
 "We found the five grizzlies, which had been 
 cut open and eviscerated by Clark and Frank be- 
 fore they returned to camp. We all pitched in 
 and skinned the five bears. I should say that 
 they were four or five years old. 
 
 "Of course we went through the bushes and had 
 the story repeated over and over to us. The con- 
 dition of the bushes and the earth was evidence 
 enough of a desperate contest, if any one had for 
 a moment doubted the story. 
 
 "You are at liberty to use this letter in any 
 proper way you choose."
 
 284 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 The hunter folded up the clipping and returned 
 it to its place in the little raw-hide box which held 
 his main treasures in camp. 
 
 I 'You see, Gavan," he said, returning, " there 
 is a real grizzly story. But it 's all wrong to bring 
 that forward as an example of an attack by 
 grizzlies. In the first place, Clark fired, merely 
 on seein' the big bear. In the second place, even 
 after knowin' that there was a wounded grizzly in 
 the thicket, Frank crept among the bushes, as he 
 says himself, where it was so thick that he couldn 't 
 see ten feet in advance. That's not exactly 
 courage, that's foolhardiness. The only wonder 
 is that he got off so easily. 
 
 II On the other hand, Clark's advance through 
 the bushes was sheer courage. He was comin' 
 to the rescue of his friend. I asked him, when 
 he told me the story, why he had shot at the rear 
 of the bear. He said he was afraid that Frank's 
 strength could not hold out much longer an' he 
 thought that the bear might be maulin' him 
 badly. But Frank's grit, in gettin' his gun, an' 
 shootin' with his right hand all chawed to pieces, 
 was fine. I certainly never heard before of two 
 men killin' five bears in such a close struggle, 
 nor of one man killin' four of them when he
 
 Courtesy of " Outing " Magazine. 
 
 THE TWO-HUNDRETH CHRISTMAS RECEPTION. 
 
 The Hudson Bay Company factor is a chief connecting-link between the 
 pioneer trapper and the trapper of to-day.
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 285 
 
 was able to use only one finger of his right hand." 
 "But I always supposed," said the boy, "that 
 any fight with a grizzly was likely to be that way. 
 The stories in books always say so." 
 
 "Yes," said the hunter, "an', in a way, the 
 books are right. But every one who has hunted 
 big game in the Rockies will tell you that there's 
 a big difference in temper an' ferocity between 
 Old Ephraim of to-day, an' the grizzled old fel- 
 lows of which Kit Carson an' the frontiersmen 
 used to tell in the early days. 
 
 "When you stop to think of it, Gavan, it's small 
 wonder that the grizzly used to be considered mar- 
 velously invulnerable an' tenacious of life. The 
 bear-hunters of fifty years ago were armed with 
 a long, single-barreled, small-bored pea rifle, in 
 which the bullets ran seventy to the pound. A 
 modern .32 caliber rifle carries only a slightly 
 heavier ball than the rifles of the early bear- 
 hunters, but there is no comparison as to its 
 penetration an' killin' power. The old-time 
 muzzle-loader was so crude an' uncertain of fire, 
 that there is nothhi' with which to compare it in 
 these days of breech-loadin' repeaters, scientific 
 ammunition, an' fine adjustment of missiles to the 
 bore. One can understand, then, what grit it
 
 286 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 must have taken to confront the biggest an' most 
 savage of American wild beasts an' run so many 
 chances of inflictin' a painful wound only, which 
 would instantly transform a peaceful beast into 
 a concentration of bestial fury an' vengeance. 
 
 "An' even modern ammunition will not always 
 stop a grizzly. When wounded, he will face a 
 battery of Gatling guns. The moment he feels 
 pain, he becomes 'a horror in fur and claws,' as 
 I heard a bear-hunter say once. It's a good 
 phrase, too, for when a mad grizzly, at full height 
 on his hind-legs, with his fore-paws extended, his 
 great head swingin' from side to side, his big 
 red mouth open and slaverin', comes straight at 
 you with a speed not much short of a railroad 
 train, it's either a very courageous man or one 
 who hasn't any nerves at all, that's goin' to face 
 his foe without a qualm. 
 
 "The vitality of a mature grizzly is almost 
 beyond the belief of any one who has had no 
 huntin' experience among them. There are sev- 
 eral instances of grizzlies havin' traveled one or 
 two hundred yards after havin' been shot through 
 the heart. I suppose the best-known example of 
 this was in Oregon, where Senator Edwards was 
 chased for nearly a quarter of a mile over fallen
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 287 
 
 logs an' through dense chaparral by a bear whose 
 heart, as it was afterwards found, had been 
 pierced by no less than four rifle balls. 
 
 'No, my boy, it isn't wise to fool with a grizzly. 
 Only a fool, or a man under compulsion, will go 
 after a grizzly alone, an' any man, alone, who 
 fires at a grizzly without knowin' exactly where 
 he will go an' what he will do in case the shot 
 doesn 't prove fatal, is likely to sign his own death- 
 warrant. 
 
 ''Records of bear-hunters are full of surprises, 
 but I think the most extraordinary happenin' I 
 ever heard of, happened to my partner in Mon- 
 tana. He had shot a bear an' the creature had 
 fallen apparently dead at the first shot. This 
 chap, Tinden by name, Big Jack Tinden, came up 
 cautiously enough, but the bear seemed dead. He 
 laid down his rifle an' pulled out his pipe an' 
 box of matches for a smoke before skinnin' the 
 bear. 
 
 "At that second, the bear suddenly seemed to 
 wake up an' made o lunge at Big Jack, who, 
 bein' unable to jump back because of a big log 
 behind him an' knowin' the danger of bein' 
 thrown on his back with face an' stomach ex- 
 posed to the beast's claws, dived forward on the
 
 2 88 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 ground, under the bear, an' played 'possum. 
 The bear didn't hurt him, but half crouched, half 
 lay on him, growlin'. Jack had a Colt's in his 
 belt, but he couldn't get at it. One hand still held 
 the pipe, the other the box of matches. 
 
 "A brilliant idea struck him. He struck a 
 match an' set fire to all the matches in the box, 
 at the same moment throwin' the blazin' box be- 
 hind him so that it fell just under the bear's face. 
 With the wild animal's natural fear of fire, the 
 grizzly leaped to one side, freein' Big Jack, who 
 whirled round, drew his revolver an ' pumped lead 
 into the wounded creature so fast he never moved 
 from his tracks. He was dead before the box of 
 matches had ceased to burn. 
 
 ''It's a great sport, bear-huntin ', one that taxes 
 the best that there is in a man, an' it's a good 
 thing that the Government has a close season on 
 bear, for it would be a pity to see the grizzly 
 disappear entirely from the Eocky Mountains." 
 
 "But you trap them!" the boy declared. 
 
 "As I said to you once o.fore," the hunter an- 
 swered, "the Government isn't tryin' to trap all 
 grizzlies. There are outlaw grizzlies in America, 
 just as there are outlaw men. When a grizzly 
 gets to cattle-killin ' or becomes a marauder and
 
 FIGHT WITH FIVE GRIZZLIES 289 
 
 a robber, he's a criminal, an' as a criminal, he's 
 got to be caught. Trappin' is an art, not a 
 slaughter, an' the trapper must know not only 
 how an' when to trap, but also understand the 
 habits of his quarry. The United States is not 
 tryin' to destroy wild animals, but to prevent 
 criminality in the animal kingdom as well as in the 
 human race."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 
 
 A FEW weeks after his return from the bear- 
 hunter's camp, and while working on his alfalfa 
 field, diverting the water from a branch of his 
 irrigation ditch, so that it would spread uniformly 
 over the land for the summer had been very 
 dry Gavan saw his former enemy, Antonio, rid- 
 ing up the trail to his place. 
 
 The boy stiffened, but went forward to greet 
 his neighbor, wondering what new trouble was in 
 the wind. He had taken the pains to learn 
 Spanish the winter before and whenever he got 
 a chance, and, accordingly he was able to greet 
 the newcomer in his own tongue. 
 
 "Good day," was the latter 's reply; "very 
 hot!" 
 
 "Yes," agreed the boy, wondering what was 
 coming, "it is hot." 
 
 "Plenty of luck with traps?" queried the Mexi- 
 can. 
 
 "Nothing to complain of," was the boy's an- 
 290
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 291 
 
 swer. "I got eleven coyotes last week." 
 
 The Mexican threw one leg over the horn of his 
 saddle and commenced to roll a cigarette. 
 
 "You trap wild-oat!" he asked. 
 
 Gavan looked a little surprised, for he could 
 not see where these inquiries led. 
 
 "Sometimes I find a bob-cat in one of my 
 traps," he said, "not often, because I'm going 
 after coyotes. What catches one won't catch the 
 other." 
 
 "One time I catch plenty wild-cat," said the 
 Mexican, "now, no more. Last week, ten chicken 
 gone, last night six. My traps sprung." 
 
 The boy became interested. 
 
 "What's the matter with your traps?" he asked. 
 
 The Mexican shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Some one spring my traps every night," he 
 said, with vindictive meaning. 
 
 Gavan 's eyes narrowed. The last two years 
 had not only broadened his shoulders, but steeled 
 his character. He remembered the trouble he had 
 suffered at this man's hands, when he was quite 
 a boy, and he was not prepared to stand any more 
 nonsense. 
 
 "You mean," he said, threateningly, "that you 
 suspect me of springing them?"
 
 292 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 The Mexican's gaze shifted. 
 
 1 'No, no," he said, lamely, "I do not say that. 
 But," and he faced the boy again, "they are 
 sprung every night. A wild cat will not do that." 
 
 "Go to the deuce," answered Gavan, shortly, 
 ' * and take your dirty suspicions somewhere else. ' ' 
 
 The Mexican did not shift his ground. 
 
 1 * Last night, my traps sprung, ' ' he said. * ' Last 
 night, you not at home." 
 
 "No," said the boy; "I went over to the 
 pueblo." 
 
 "Two weeks ago my traps sprung," the Mexi- 
 can continued, "and that night you not at home. 
 What do you say?" 
 
 "I say that you're looking for trouble," the 
 boy replied. 
 
 "Ten of us," said the Mexican, "have seen the 
 traps sprung, and have seen that you were not 
 at home. You not believe me? I swear by " 
 here he uttered a most sacred local reference 
 "that it is as I say." 
 
 Gavan sobered down somewhat. He knew 
 enough of Mexican character to realize that if the 
 colony came to believe that he, in a spirit of re- 
 venge, had sprung these traps, he would have the 
 whole Mexican population against him. He had
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 293 
 
 taken pains, during the past two years, to con- 
 ciliate his neighbors. 
 
 "You're sure," he said, thoughtfully, "that the 
 traps have really been sprung." 
 
 The Mexican repeated his adjuration. 
 
 "You can see for yourself," he said. 
 
 Gavan leaned on the handle of his hoe and 
 looked up at the seated figure. 
 
 "I believe you're telling the truth, Antonio," 
 he said, "and I'll swear, if you like, that I never 
 touched your traps. Oh, I know that isn't enough 
 to satisfy you," he added, quickly, as the Mexi- 
 can made a restless motion in his saddle, "but we 
 can do something more than that. 
 
 "You say that something or some one has 
 sprung your traps'?" 
 
 ' * For sure ! ' ' Antonio answered. 
 
 "Then," said the boy, "that something or some 
 one has left tracks. You know as well as I do that 
 it is impossible to go along a trap line and not 
 leave some trail. If on foot, there is the track 
 of a shoe; if on horseback, the track of a horse. 
 No two shoes just the same, no two horse's hoofs 
 just the same. If you like, I '11 go along with you 
 and examine the ground. If there's any track to 
 be found, it won't be mine. As I've told you, I
 
 294 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 was at the pueblo last night. But we'll try to 
 find out. Is that fair?" 
 
 "Good," said Antonio. "But you will find 
 nothing. I look myself. ' ' 
 
 Gavan made no reply, but he thought to himself 
 that Antonio's examination of a trail meant little. 
 Years of painful training had taught him how 
 really difficult it was to decipher the faint signs 
 of a trail. He saddled his pony and rode with 
 the Mexican to the slopes of the hills directly be- 
 hind his irrigated land. 
 
 "Have you caught many bob-cats this winter 
 and spring?" he asked. 
 
 "Twenty-four," Antonio replied. 
 
 Gavan opened his eyes in surprise. He had no 
 idea that there were so many bob-cats in the 
 mountains. 
 
 "You get good prices for the fur?" he con- 
 tinued. 
 
 "Plenty money in winter," was the answer, 
 "little in spring. Nothing in summer. I keep 
 traps, now, only to protect my chickens. Fur no 
 good. ' ' 
 
 Conversation languished, as the trail narrowed. 
 Nothing more was said until Antonio pulled up 
 his pony.
 
 Courtesy of " Outing" Magazine. 
 
 PUSSY BUT NOT DOMESTIC! 
 
 The bay lynx, or hob-cat ; compare with the heavier build of the Canada 
 or true lynx shown in the lower picture. 
 
 Courtesy of " Outing" Magazine. 
 
 "DON'T GO TOO CLOSE! " 
 
 The trap was set for coyote, but it caught a lynx. There's always one 
 fight more left in a lynx until lie's dead.
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 295 
 
 "First trap," he said, pointing 10 the ground. 
 
 Gavan dismounted. He examined the ground 
 around the trap carefully. There was not a sign 
 of a human foot, and the only hoof-marks were 
 those of a mule. 
 
 "There's no one been here," he said. "These 
 tracks," and he pointed to the hoof -marks, "are 
 of a mule, not a pony. Have you been riding your 
 trap line on a mule?" 
 
 "Yes," the Mexican declared truthfully, and a 
 little surprised, "I ride a mule." 
 
 "And without shoes?" 
 
 "Without shoes," the Mexican agreed. 
 
 "No other hoof -marks here," the boy said, 
 "and no footmarks at all. But," he continued, 
 "what's this?" 
 
 He pointed to a faint smudge on the ground. 
 
 The Mexican shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "I don't see anything," he declared. 
 
 "Well, I do," Gavan asserted. "It looks like 
 a bear track, only it would have to be a pretty 
 small bear." 
 
 The Mexican leaned over from his saddle and 
 looked closely. 
 
 "Not a bear-track," he said. "Much too 
 small."
 
 296 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 " Might be a dwarf bear," said Gavan, thought- 
 fully, ''although it's true I never heard of one. 
 And any cub as small as that, wouldn't be far 
 away from its mother. We ought to see the 
 mother's track around here pretty soon." 
 
 "Yes," agreed the Mexican skeptically, "if it's 
 the track of a cub. But I, me, I do not think it is 
 a bear." 
 
 "Lead ahead," said the boy, piqued by this 
 reply. "Let's see what we find at the next 
 trap." 
 
 The Mexican made a mocking reply, to which 
 Gavan paid no heed. He had another problem to 
 settle. How could a bear cub, ignorant, as all 
 bear cubs would be, of the ways of traps, travel 
 alone along a trail, and spring a trap? One case 
 might happen by accident, but not a second. 
 
 * * Trap Two ! ' ' said the Mexican, stopping at the 
 foot of a tree. 
 
 As before, Gavan dismounted and examined the 
 ground carefully. As before, the hoof-marks of 
 Antonio's mule were quite plain, but there were 
 no footmarks to be seen. On the other hand, clear 
 as print, was this smudged track resembling that 
 of a bear cub. only it seemed rounder and lighter. 
 
 Gavan pointed to it without a word.
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 297 
 
 Antonio answered with a shrug. It did not need 
 much knowledge of the habits of bears to see the 
 mystery in these tracks. 
 
 The two rode on. Gavan examined the ground 
 carefully, as he rode, but never once did he see 
 a sign either of the queer bear cub, if it were a 
 cub and not a dwarf bear or a deformed creature 
 of some kind. Still less did he see any sign of 
 the mother bear, though, more than once, dusty 
 ground around a village of ground-squirrel bur- 
 rows gave ample opportunity for a satisfactory 
 footmark. 
 
 The third trap was even more definite. The 
 tracks of the weird bear were not only scattered 
 all around the trap, but, upon the steel, good-sized 
 scratches on the steel showed where the trap had 
 been seized and thrown to one side, after having 
 been sprung. 
 
 "Ever see anything like that!" asked Gavan, 
 holding out the trap. 
 
 The Mexican looked at it intently. 
 
 "Those marks are new," he declared, "they 
 were not there when I set the trap." 
 
 "Well, you don't think I took it up in my teeth, 
 do you?" queried the boy, in fine scorn. "Be- 
 sides, what tracks are those?"
 
 298 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 He pointed at the smudged dwarf bear tracks 
 scattered around the ground. If the mark at the 
 first trap had been indeterminate, that could not 
 be said of the later two. The third, especially, 
 was surrounded by claw marks. The dwarf or 
 cub bear, or whatever kind of creature it was, had 
 not only sprung the trap and eaten the bait, but 
 had wantonly torn up the ground. There seemed 
 a certain savageness expressed in the tracks alto- 
 gether inconsistent with the character of a bear. 
 Besides, the evidence was clear that the bait had 
 not been abstracted by human hands, but that it 
 had been eaten by an animal. 
 
 "You must be crazy, Antonio," said the boy, 
 "to suppose that I came here in the middle of the 
 night to take a dinner of live prairie dog, and 
 to eat it, skin, insides and everything, leaving only 
 a few bones and some bits of fur!" 
 
 The Mexican's ideas were shaken. He rolled 
 the inevitable cigarette and only answered, 
 
 "Something or some one sprung the traps." 
 
 "Well, then," declared the boy, brusquely, "do 
 you think I did that?" and he pointed to the 
 ground. 
 
 The Mexican was no fool. In his heart he was 
 convinced that Gavan had something to do with
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 299 
 
 it, but the evidence all pointed the other way. 
 Although willing enough to suggest by innuendo 
 that Gavan had been responsible for the dirty 
 trick of springing the traps, he was not prepared 
 to make his accusation to the boy himself. 
 
 "Yes, an animal did that for sure," the Mexi- 
 can answered, "but what kind of animal? Dog, 
 eh?" 
 
 This was a hint that Gavan 's dogs had been 
 mixed up in the affair, but Gavan only answered 
 by pointing to the ground. 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Antonio," he said, roughly; 
 "you know better than that. Those are not dog's 
 tracks." 
 
 It was useless for the Mexican to suggest that 
 they were. He shrugged his shoulders again. 
 
 ' ' Look here, ' ' said the boy. ' ' Let 's bait and set 
 those traps again. I'll guarantee to stay home 
 for the next three nights. Then you can come 
 again and find out if the traps are sprung. If a 
 bear is doing it, he won't know anything about the 
 plan, and will go on, and then you can be sure 
 it isn't up to me. Of course, that would only 
 prove something if the traps are sprung, but it's 
 worth a trial. Do you agree?" 
 
 The Mexican nodded and the two rode back to
 
 300 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Antonio's place, where he had a number of 
 ground-squirrels in a pen, which he had caught by 
 box traps, for live bait. Gavan took these and 
 rode back along the Mexican's short trap line, 
 resetting the traps and staking down the bait. 
 
 Three days later, by appointment, Antonio and 
 Gavan met for a further investigation of the 
 mystery. It was evident that the Mexican was 
 skeptical, and Gavan had been aware that he had 
 been closely spied on during the past three days. 
 But, when they came to the wooded section, the 
 boy's expectations were fulfilled. 
 
 Every trap was sprung. 
 
 "I never knew a bear to do that before," was 
 Antonio's grudging admission of the boy's 
 original declaration that the traps had been 
 sprung by an animal. 
 
 "Nor did I," agreed Gavan, "and I tell you 
 what, Antonio, it's up to us to get that bear. 
 Judging from the size of the track he must be a 
 small one. If you're willing, I'll take up two or 
 three of my No. 4 traps they ought to be big 
 enough and I'll set those along the line. Maybe 
 he's been springing these traps by standing on 
 them, and his foot is so big that it covers both 
 jaws as well as the pan. You see, your No. 2
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 301 
 
 traps have only a spread of 4 7/8 inches, and even 
 if a bear stepped on the pan and on one of the 
 jaws, that would keep the spring from coming 
 up and the trap would not be sprung until the 
 bear's foot was lifted off it." 
 
 " That's not the way a bear acts," declared the 
 Mexican, shaking his head, "but if you think you 
 can catch him, go ahead." 
 
 Gavan perceived that the question was much 
 graver than it appeared. He realized that unless 
 he could definitely catch that queer bear, and solve 
 the mystery of the tracks, he would be under 
 suspicion from the Mexicans. Besides, his pride 
 as a trapper was concerned. 
 
 The boy had set the line of traps with all the 
 skill of which he was capable, and this dwarf 
 bear, or whatever it was, had sprung them, one 
 after the other, searching out each trap and tak- 
 ing the bait. The boy knew that bears possess a 
 keen nose, but this trailing was not in the least 
 suggestive of the habits of a bear, while as for go- 
 ing over the same ground night after night, it 
 was still more difficult to assume such action to 
 a bear, whether grizzly or black. 
 
 Gavan set the traps again, and, again, the next 
 morning, found them all sprung. Tooth-marks on
 
 302 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 springs and chains revealed the means used. The 
 tracks, again, were unquestionably not those of a 
 wolf or coyote, or any of the dog family; they 
 were equally unquestionably not those of a bob- 
 cat or mountain lion or any of the cat family. 
 It seemed incredible, but they looked as though 
 made by a bear. 
 
 In this puzzle, Gavan sought the help of Quick 
 Feather. He explained the circumstances in full 
 to the old Indian, but when he suggested that the 
 theft was done by a bear, Quick Feather shook 
 his head. 
 
 "Not bear," he said, positively. 
 
 "What can it be, then?" demanded the boy. 
 
 "Go see," answered the Indian. 
 
 This fitted in entirely with Gavan 's desires, so 
 he waited impatiently until the Indian went out to 
 the corral surrounding the pueblo, caught his 
 horse, saddled it and rode out. The distance 
 was not far to the traps, taking a short cut from 
 the pueblo to the mountains. 
 
 Quick Feather's comment on the situation was 
 brief and characteristic. At the very first trap 
 they came to, he bent down and looked at the 
 ground, once, twice, and then straightened up. 
 
 "Not bear," he said, "bad medicine!"
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 303 
 
 And vaulted on his pony. 
 
 "But if it's not a bear, what is it?" queried 
 the boy. 
 
 "Bad medicine," the Indian replied, and not an- 
 other word could Gavan get out of him. Like 
 nearly all Indians, on being asked 'a question he 
 did not intend to answer, he assumed deafness and 
 rode on as though he were alone. Evidently 
 Quick Feather was not going to be of any assist- 
 ance in solving the problem. 
 
 So, a day or two later, Gavan rode out to 
 McLeod and propounded the question to him. 
 He showed him the tracks, of which he had made 
 several careful drawings. But when he ex- 
 plained the circumstances and said that Antonio 
 had made out of the issue a definite accusation 
 against him, McLeod showed himself as unwilling 
 to take part in the inquiry as Quick Feather had 
 done. 
 
 ' * I 'd sure like to help you out, Gavan, ' ' he said, 
 "but I haven't got the right to. I'm on Govern- 
 ment pay, an' while the Biological Survey gives 
 me privileges to run into the nearest local town 
 every once in a while, Taos or Glorieta or wher- 
 ever, I can't stay away more than one night. My 
 traps have got to be looked after, all of 'em, every
 
 304 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 other day. I can't take Government time to try 
 an ' figure out your puzzle. 
 
 "Besides," he added, "in a way, it's a party 
 fight, an' I can't get the Government in wrong with 
 the Mexicans. If I were on my own, there's 
 nothing I 'd like better than to jump in an ' show up 
 the Greasers to a f are-you-well, for I think there 's 
 something crooked about it, but a Biological Sur- 
 vey man can't take sides. I'll tell you one thing, 
 though, an' that is that those tracks o' yours 
 look less like those of a bear than any I've ever 
 seen. 
 
 "Are you dead sure you've drawn 'em right!" 
 he continued. "Remember your sixteen-inch 
 track which was just a medium-sized bear goin' 
 down hill f" 
 
 Gavan colored with confusion at the remem- 
 brance, but he stuck to his point just the same. 
 
 "I'm dead sure," he said positively, "I drew 
 several to make sure and they were all exactly the 
 same. ' ' 
 
 "Well," the hunter returned, " you seem to be 
 dropped on for queer things. First shot out o' 
 the box, you find a wolf track around the body of 
 Blue Joe Keary which is an' isn't the track of a 
 wolf, an' then you find the track of a bear, which is
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 305 
 
 an' isn't a bear's track, springin' traps all along 
 the line. If you ask me, I should say that you 
 were playin ' around with spooks ! ' ' 
 
 Gavan laughed in answer, but the suggestion 
 made him uncomfortable just the same. He had 
 almost forgotten the mystery that surrounded 
 his night of watching in Ghost Canyon, and he 
 wondered if perhaps this was going to turn out 
 a part of the same queer happening. In any 
 event, it was clear that he was not going to receive 
 any help from McLeod, any more than he had 
 from Quick Feather. 
 
 As he rode back to his cabin, Gavan puzzled 
 continuously over the problem. He knew that it 
 was of no use taking his troubles to the ranch boss, 
 for Thin-lip Jack would probably want to settle 
 the matter by a threat to give Antonio a sound 
 thrashing. This, as Gavan knew, would be far 
 from settling the controversy, contrariwise, it 
 would only be giving it a still uglier turn. Like- 
 wise, if the boy asked the sheriff about it, the latter 
 could do nothing. He was an able man and a 
 marvelous shot, but he knew nothing about traps 
 and trapping and his advice would serve little 
 purpose. Also, the sheriff was wary about actions 
 which exceeded his official duties.
 
 306 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 If his men friends couldn't help him, how 
 about the dogs? They, at least, Gavan thought, 
 had no prior reason to be puzzled, they would not 
 be troubled by the thought that it was ' ' bad medi- 
 cine ' ' nor would they be concerned as to the Mexi- 
 can side of the controversy. It was immaterial 
 to an Airedale whether a track were in accordance 
 with custom or not. 
 
 That night Gavan set the traps again. 
 
 Early next morning, before the dew was off the 
 ground and while the scent of a trail would lie 
 heavily, Gavan reached the line of traps with Duff 
 and the two Airedales. As the boy knew, Duff, 
 with his partial ancestry of hound, had a marvel- 
 ous nose for trailing, but, as he also knew, the dog 
 would not fight. The Airedales, though still 
 young dogs, were beginning to be good at the 
 trail, and they would fight anything. The only 
 trouble was that Duff, recognizing the racial su- 
 periority of the Airedales, had a knack of break- 
 ing off from his own trail to follow theirs ; whether 
 the right trail or not. 
 
 More than once Gavan had trouble because the 
 Airedales broke off on a porcupine track, and, 
 since they could not be hauled off any animal until 
 it was dead, many an evening he had spent pulling
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 307 
 
 out spines from an Airedale's mouth and jaws, 
 the dog being tied and gagged for the process. 
 Duff, partly because of his yellow streak, and 
 partly from an inborn good sense, knew enough to 
 leave porcupines alone. 
 
 This particular morning, Gavan set the dogs on 
 the trail of the queer bear-like track, visible here 
 and there on the softer parts of the ground. Duff 
 picked up the trail at once. He ran along it, nose 
 to ground, for a little distance, then stopped, 
 crawled away, put his tail between his legs and 
 howled. 
 
 This was more than puzzling. Gavan sat down 
 on a rock to think. Duff was a coward, that was 
 sure, but he had never shown any reluctance on a 
 trail. Not until he had sighted the animal had the 
 dog's yellow streak ever showed itself before. 
 As the boy well knew, Duff's manner was always 
 of that of a ferocious beast, ready to eat up any- 
 thing in sight until that thing came in sight. 
 
 Why did the hound refuse even to follow the 
 trail? Gavan remembered the night in Ghost 
 Canyon and shivered. 
 
 He slipped the Airedales. They struck the hot 
 trail and started out, one running silent, the other 
 giving tongue.
 
 3 o8 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Gavan's hopes rose. Perhaps, after all, the 
 trail was sufficiently fresh for the Airedales to 
 follow it. If only some other trail did not cross ! 
 The dogs kept their straight course to the second 
 trap, where the tracks were also faintly visible, 
 and after smelling around for a while, dashed on. 
 Duff followed, but shamefacedly, and behind. 
 
 Then, with a yelp, one of the Airedales shot off 
 into the scrub, the other Airedale and Duff follow- 
 ing. 
 
 Gavan ground his teeth, for he felt sure that this 
 was not the trail. But the Airedales forged 
 ahead, and after a while, far in the distance, he 
 could hear them baying, the low raucous howl of 
 Duff joining in. 
 
 ''They've got something!" cried the boy, and 
 dashed on at top speed. 
 
 The three dogs were jumping around a good- 
 sized yellow pine, leaping up as though to reach 
 it. 
 
 This could mean only one thing, that an animal 
 was treed. Could this be the long-sought bear 
 cub? More probably it was a mountain-lion or a 
 bob-cat. The rough, deeply indented, strong- 
 smelling bark of a yellow pine gave no clew. Had 
 it been some soft-barked tree, like quaking aspen
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 309 
 
 or cork-bark spruce, Gavan could have told by the 
 scratches in the bark. 
 
 McLeod had taught the boy the value of not 
 wasting shots, and the death of Blue Joe Keary 
 had made the lad very wary of running chances 
 with a mountain lion, should such be the quarry. 
 He was not going to shoot until he was sure of his 
 aim. He circled the tree warily, careful lest the 
 beast should change his mind and come down, for 
 he knew that the cougar is the most capricious of 
 all animals, and there was no saying what creature 
 he might be about to face. Presently he distin- 
 guished a blur in the tree. There was the animal, 
 surely. 
 
 But what animal T 
 
 Keeping an unwinking gaze on this blur in the 
 tree, and moving as little as possible, Gavan pres- 
 ently was able to make out clearly the long, lithe 
 body of a cougar. He backed away, until he found 
 a rock about four feet high, from which he could 
 see the tree. 
 
 Taking careful aim, he fired, and, the instant 
 that he pulled the trigger, scrambled up the rock, 
 so that, if the cougar should only be wounded and 
 should fall and charge, he would be beyond the 
 beast's first spring.
 
 3 io WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 The aim was good, the shot went true. A yowl 
 answered the bullet, and a heavy body came crash- 
 ing down through the branches. The boy saw 
 the yellow body strike the ground and then spring 
 to its feet, as though unhurt, but, with the same 
 second, the two Airedales were on him. The dogs 
 were no match for the cougar, and Gavan knew 
 that he ought not to risk the fight to con- 
 tinue. 
 
 At the risk of hitting the dogs, he fired again, 
 reaching a vital point this time, for after a few 
 convulsive struggles, in which one of the dogs 
 received a long tearing wound, the cougar toppled 
 over and lay still. The dogs tore at the fur for a 
 few minutes and then stood back, snarling and 
 watching. This was proof positive. The cougar 
 was dead. 
 
 Since this was the first mountain lion that the 
 boy had shot, he was proud of himself to a certain 
 extent, but he was discontented, none the less, for 
 he was not after mountain lion. He was after 
 that dwarf bear, or whatever it was that had 
 sprung the traps. It was idle to blame such a 
 trick on a mountain lion, for curious though a 
 cougar may be, and annoying though its habits 
 may be of following a lone hunter on the trail,
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 311 
 
 Gavan knew well that the cougar is far too wary 
 to fool with traps. 
 
 With live bait, during the period of famine, any 
 of the cats are tolerably easy to catch, and, once 
 trapped, they submit to the inevitable. But to go 
 and spring a trap and then spring another, and so 
 on, he knew, could not be the work of either 
 cougar, lynx, or bob-cat. Lynx, of course, was out 
 of the question, for it was a northern animal 
 purely, having its main range in Canada, though 
 along the upper slopes of the Rockies it has been 
 caught as far south as Colorado. Gavan had 
 never heard of a lynx on the Sangre de Cristo 
 Range. 
 
 But that was beside the point. None of the cat 
 family were possessed of that mental character 
 which would trail a trapper to spring his traps. 
 A lobo or outlaw wolf conceivably might, for 
 Gavan had heard Winon of the Biological Survey 
 speak of the incredible wariness and almost human 
 skill possessed by a much-hunted gray wolf. But 
 the mysterious tracks were as far from those of a 
 wolf as could be imagined. They looked like bear, 
 and yet they didn't look like bear. 
 
 After sewing up the wound in the dog's side it 
 was a nasty cut, but not serious Gavan started
 
 3 i2 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 homewards again. He had hardly gone a hundred 
 yards before Duff gave voice, and started up the 
 mountainside. The Airedales, including the 
 wounded dog, followed. The chase was brief. A 
 bay lynx or bob-cat ran up a small tree and turned, 
 spitting at the dogs. The shot was clear and easy 
 and the bob-cat fell at the boy's feet. 
 
 A cougar and a bob-cat already, and the sun not 
 three hours high! Gavan ought to have been 
 satisfied, but he was not. 
 
 He wanted to find out what it was that had made 
 that trail. 
 
 Still, the boy thought he might as well 
 visit Antonio and show the results of his morning 
 hunting. It was evident that the woods were full 
 of bob-cat and cougar, as the Mexican had said, 
 but Gavan had no fear of an unwounded cougar. 
 Winon had told him once that there was only one 
 absolutely authenticated case in which a cougar 
 had attacked human beings unprovoked. 
 
 On September 23, 1917, a little after mid-day, 
 two children, Dorcas Ashburnham, aged 11 years, 
 and Tony Farrar, aged 8 years, left their home 
 with bridles in their hands to bring in their ponies 
 from a pasture about three quarters of a mile from 
 the house. Before reaching the pasture, they
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 313 
 
 were suddenly alarmed by the sight of a cougar 
 approaching alongside the trail. What happened 
 then, Gavan had read in the actual stories of the 
 children themselves, which were secured as official 
 depositions before a notary public. 1 
 
 "I am eight years of age," the boy's story ran, 
 "and was born at London, England, on March 9, 
 1908. I have lived at Corvichan Lake, British 
 Columbia, with my mother, since 1912. On Sep- 
 tember 23, 1916, at about 1 o'clock, I left the house 
 to go with Dorcas Ashburnham to a pasture about 
 three quarters of a mile down the trail to catch 
 our ponies. When about half a mile from the 
 house, we saw a panther coming round a corner a 
 few feet away. 
 
 "The panther sprang on Dorcas, knocking her 
 down. It stayed on her back. I told her to keep 
 quiet and not move, and I jumped on the panther 
 from a small bush and hit him as hard as I could 
 with my bridle. 
 
 "This forced him off Dorcas but he turned on 
 me. We both fought him and he tore my nose 
 and cheek with his paw and forced me to the 
 
 i Certified copies of these depositions, absolutely authenticat- 
 ing this story, are on file in the Parliament Building, Victoria, 
 B. C.
 
 3H WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 ground on my face. He then tore my back, bit 
 me in the shoulder and tore my scalp. 
 
 " While he remained on me, Dorcas attacked him 
 with her riding bridle and her fists and put her 
 arm in his mouth to prevent him biting me, and 
 he bit her through the arm. 
 
 "The panther slunk away finally, and we both 
 ran home covered with blood. 
 
 "I am certain that if Dorcas had not driven him 
 off me the panther would have killed me." 
 
 Dr. Dykes, the nearest doctor, who was hast- 
 ily summoned, certified that he had found the 
 boy's injuries "to consist of a badly torn scalp, 
 necessitating 46 stitches, and a number of cuts, 
 scratches and bites on his back and limbs." The 
 girl's injuries "were not so severe, consisting 
 chiefly of some scratches from the animal's claws, 
 and a bite through the right arm above the elbow." 
 
 Immediately after the return of the children, 
 Chas. March, a neighbor, seized his gun, whistled 
 to his dogs and started out. The trail was fresh 
 and the animal evidently was traveling very 
 slowly. It did not take to a tree, but turned on the 
 dogs, injuring one of them badly. The hunter 
 killed the panther, or cougar, as soon as he came 
 up. It measured a little over seven feet from the
 
 Courtesy of " forest and Stream." 
 
 THE CHILDREN WHO STOOD OFF A COUGAR. 
 
 One of the very few authentic cases when a wild animal in America 
 made an unprovoked attack.
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 315 
 
 nose to the tip of the tail, and was estimated to 
 weigh about 75 pounds. It had a cataract over one 
 eye, was evidently old and the stomach was empty. 
 
 Another neighbor, Arthur L. Taylor, testified 
 that he saw the children go out and return " cov- 
 ered with blood," heard their story and added: 
 "I consider that the action of each child saved the 
 life of the other in turn and that one is entitled 
 to as much credit as the other, particularly as 
 either could have escaped by sacrificing the other. 
 I saw the dead panther brought in afterwards by 
 Mr. March." 
 
 Chief Justice Hunter of British Columbia, a 
 friend of the family, visited them next day. His 
 deposition concludes: ''I consider that the 
 bravery, coolness and resource of each child saved 
 the life of the other. I should be glad to see their 
 actions receive proper recognition." 
 
 Finally, Sir Clive Phillips Wooley, knowing the 
 family and living within twenty miles of the place, 
 made an investigation, and declared: "As editor 
 of the Badminton volumes on big Game, I investi- 
 gated every available panther story and believe 
 this to be the first authenticated instance in British 
 Columbia of a panther attacking a human being, 
 either unattacked or in its own defense. In spite
 
 316 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 of this and my own experience of over thirty 
 years, I am compelled, after a full personal in- 
 vestigation, to believe the children's story to be 
 absolutely true and uncolored, and can only sug- 
 gest that the attack was due to the fact that this 
 particular panther, being partially blind, was 
 unable to obtain his natural prey." 
 
 Another case is known in which a cougar 
 jumped across a brook and attacked two boys, 
 but one of the boys afterwards admitted that he 
 had " thrown some stones at the big cat to make 
 it go away." 
 
 While the cougar thus is timid and unwilling to 
 fight, the bob-cat, though smaller, is a more vicious 
 animal. There are a few cases of a bob-cat 
 turning at bay, though none of an unprovoked 
 attack. 
 
 "I ain't nowise partial to bob-cats," McLeod 
 had said once to the boy. "He's just a bundle o' 
 wires actuated by the spirit of a demon, but a lynx, 
 a genuine Canada lynx, has him beaten as easy as 
 three aces takes the pot from a pair o' Jacks. A 
 wounded lynx is a power sausage-mill, a gang 
 saw an' an electric dynamo tied up together in 
 a loose gray hide which is hung on his bones so 
 he can turn himself around in it without anv
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 317 
 
 trouble. A dog gets a lynx by the throat an' glee- 
 fully starts to choke him to death, when the animal 
 whirls round in his skin an' hands him a kick that 
 slits him wide open. No, sir, a wounded lucifee 
 ain't no beast to go up and pat on the head." 
 
 "Is a lynx a lucifee!" queried the boy. "I 
 though hunters called the lynx a catamount." 
 
 The hunter shook his head. 
 
 "Not the Canada lynx," he says. "The cata- 
 mount is heavier an' shorter, with thinner legs and 
 smaller feet. The head is more arched an' he's 
 got more sense than a lucifee. The teeth an' 
 claws are a trifle smaller though. Lynx gigas, the 
 scientists call him. They're pretty hard to tell 
 apart until you've shot 'em. Then you can spot 
 'em easy. The catamount's tail is straight and 
 stiff, while the lucifee 's tilts upwards. Besides, 
 the fur of the catamount is browner than the 
 grizzled pelage of the Canada lynx." 
 
 Gavan had often heard the expression to desig- 
 nate courage and pugnacity, that "a man could 
 whip his weight in wildcats," but he had enough 
 experience of the woods to know that it is as 
 difficult to make a wild cat fight a man as it would 
 be to make a rabbit do it, unless actually cornered 
 and without any wa\ of escape. On some rare
 
 3 i8 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 occasions, lynxes in winter, when game is scarce, 
 have leaped from trees on passing travelers. 1 
 
 As he rode townwards with the skins of the 
 cougar and the bob-cat on his saddle, however, 
 Gavan came to a decision. It was clear that he 
 could not trail the unknown beast alone, it was 
 equally clear that neither Quick Feather nor Mc- 
 Leod would help him, and experience had shown 
 that Duff was afraid and that other dogs would 
 leave that mysterious trail for any other that 
 crossed it. 
 
 The issue was clear. He must do as he had 
 done with the Wolf -Woman in Ghost Canyon, and 
 as he had done with the Mexicans in the irrigation 
 ditch. He must do the watching. Night after 
 night, not regularly, but sufficiently often, the 
 traps along the line were sprung and the bait 
 taken. Gavan was by no means sure that this 
 could not be the work of a Mexican cabal, but how 
 could the tracks be so different from human feet? 
 Gavan had put to himself the probability that this 
 was some one wearing shoes to which the foot of 
 an animal had been nailed, but he had been forced 
 
 i The only case that the author has personally known was when 
 a hunter, going to a spring, drove a famished lynx from his 
 freshly killed prey. The lynx ran - i a tree and sprang at the 
 hunter from the back.
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 319 
 
 to abandon this idea, for the imprint of the tracks 
 was not nearly as deep as his own, and he was but 
 a boy. 
 
 Accordingly, two nights later, having carefully 
 set and rebaited his traps, Gavan took up a posi- 
 tion in a thick brush near that trap which was 
 most open to view, selecting for the purpose a 
 moonlight night, with a gentle wind. Needless to 
 say, his post was to leeward, not to windward of 
 the trap line. 
 
 Darkness fell and the raiders of the night be- 
 gan to move. In the distance Gavan heard a wild- 
 woman-screech, which he had been taught to rec- 
 ognize as the screech of the cougar. 1 The trail- 
 ing echo of a howl told of a wolf hunting alone, 
 and Gavan wondered, for he had seen no timber- 
 wolf track in the mountains. There was a slight 
 
 i In spite of some considerable study, the author is not able to 
 solve this question as to whether the cougar possesses or uses 
 a screech. U. S. Government hunters and trappers, generally, 
 declare that it does, and are willing to be quoted as saying 
 so; stories of frontiersmen and pioneers speak always of the 
 panther's screech. The author has collected from over thirty 
 different actual workers in the field absolute assurance that they 
 have heard the screech of the cougar and have shot the animal 
 shortly afterwards. Yet the majority of well-known naturalists 
 declare that the cougar does not screech am" chat all these trap- 
 pers have mistaken the cry of a screech-owl for the cry of the 
 panther. The controversy is still unsettled, and the reader can 
 take his choice.
 
 320 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 sound in the bushes and with a suddenness that 
 seemed like magic an owl swooped and caught the 
 little mouse that was his prey. Gavan knew and 
 felt that eyes were shining around him on every 
 side, but he did not move. 
 
 What was that? 
 
 Moving there in the shadow? 
 
 There came into the moonlight a figure so 
 strange, so ugly, so impossible that, had the boy 
 dared to move sufficiently to rub his eyes, he would 
 have done so to prove that he was awake. 
 
 A low, squat, disreputable creature with a rough 
 mop of a tail emerged from the bushes. The tail 
 and head were pointed at the ground; the back 
 arched like the back of an enraged cat when she 
 spits; the feet were set down flat like hands, or 
 like a bear's feet, there was a glint of long white 
 claws, which rattled faintly on the stones ; and the 
 coat, of a rusty brown-black, looked as if it were 
 being shed, though that disreputable look was its 
 permanent state. 
 
 This untoward, ill-kempt, malevolent-appearing 
 beast shambled on with a gait that was all its own, 
 an out-of-heek, devil-may-care, go-as-you-please 
 shuffle, part gallop, part trot, part slide, and the 
 whole appearance was of the shades, shady.
 
 Courtesy of "Outing" Magazine. 
 
 COUGAR SOLIDLY HELD IN TRAP. 
 
 The photograph gives the impression of an animal screeching, yet the 
 
 cougar (contrary to general opinion) is rarely, if ever, heard to 
 
 utter a cry, other than a low snarling or spitting sound. 
 
 Courtesy of U. .S'. Forest Service. 
 
 ROUND-UP ON A NATIONAL FOREST IN ARIZONA. 
 During calving time, the depredations of cougars on the cattle ranches 
 
 are enormous. The probable loss is not less than 
 half a million dollars annually.
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 321 
 
 Thus seen, the creature suggested a powerful 
 vagabond, certainly not the creature to meet on a 
 dark night, but not necessarily alarming. 
 
 He scrambled toward the trap and turned his 
 face. 
 
 It was not a face that belonged on this earth at 
 aU. 
 
 It was the face of a nightmare, of an evil night- 
 mare. It was the face of a strayed fiend who 
 ought never to have been allowed above ground at 
 all, even by night. 
 
 Black it was, and with a dog-like snout, lips 
 raised in a malicious leer, just enough to hint at 
 the steely fangs beneath, a low brutal brow, and 
 eyes as of tiny coals smouldering, in which lurked 
 all the hate of the wild folk against Man concen- 
 trated into one brain. There, too, brewed some- 
 thing else, not hate, but a knowledge and cunning 
 which it is not right for any beast to possess. 
 
 He came near the trap, smelt, looked, and, in the 
 moonlight, Gavan could have sworn that the beast 
 actually grinned. Then, with his white claws he 
 scratched at the ground not where the trap was, 
 but where the chain lay uncovered the chain in 
 a couple of powerful strokes, then grabbed the 
 trap by the under side of the springs, almost as
 
 322 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 though he were a mechanic who understood the 
 making of a trap, and shook it until the pan 
 jumped from the pin and the jaws closed with a 
 snap. 
 
 Then the beast put up his face to the moon, and 
 laughed. He laughed, he who was but a beast. 
 
 Gavan, no coward, shivered. The almost- 
 human wisdom of the fearsome beast was un- 
 canny. Cold chills ran along his spine. 
 
 Then the creature turned to the ground squirrel, 
 staked just beyond the trap for bait, which, evi- 
 dently frozen by fear, had not made a sound. A 
 crunch or two finished the meal. 
 
 Gavan's fingers trembled on the trigger of his 
 gun, but he refrained. He was, by temperament, 
 a trapper rather than a hunter, and it goaded him 
 to see this disreputable fiend beat him at every 
 point. He swore he would catch that creature in 
 a trap and bring it back to town for Antonio and 
 all the world to see. And, while he was thus de- 
 ciding, the creature snuffed along the trail and 
 shambled off to the next trap to repeat the per- 
 formance. 
 
 Stiff from cold and strain, Gavan went home, 
 and next day sought his friend the Forest Super- 
 visor for advice. The Forester listened awhile
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 323 
 
 then pulled down a treasured number of a maga- 
 zine from a shelf. He ran his fingers over a num- 
 ber of colored plates illustrating an article by 
 E. W. Nelson, Chief of the U. S. Biological Sur- 
 vey, and placing his finger on one of the pictures, 
 he said, 
 
 "Did your monster look anything like that I" 
 
 "Yes!" cried the boy excitedly, "that's him!" 
 
 "Well," said the Forester, "if you take my 
 
 advice, next time you see him you'll use your gun, 
 
 for you'll have a deuce of a time to trap him." 
 
 "But what is he called!" asked the boy, for the 
 
 Forester had purposely kept his hand over the 
 
 title of the picture. 
 
 The other leaned back in his chair. 
 "Tens of thousands of years ago," he said, 
 "when the mammoth still stalked about the 
 streets of London, when mastodons were wallow- 
 ing in Chicago's swales, when the saber-tooth tiger 
 was roaming along the banks of the Seine where 
 Paris stands now, your disreputable friend was 
 equally at home from the site of Pekin to that of 
 Stockholm, from that of Boston to Seattle. He 
 was the same that he is to-day. He feared nothing 
 and nobody. Even the great cave-bear gave him 
 a wide berth.
 
 324 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Among all the changes of the world, he has 
 not changed. The bones of his ancestors, found in 
 peat and stone, sunk in caves laden with the river- 
 drift, show him contemporaneous with many an 
 extinct monster, but he is unchanged and unchang- 
 ing. Your friend, Gavan, may point to at ] east 
 200,000 years of continuous ancestry. 
 
 1 ' What is he called? He is called by many 
 names. The Indians call him 'Friend of Cun- 
 ning,' the frontiersmen called him * Indian Devil,' 
 the French coureurs de bois called him the 
 'carcajou,' the English settlers of Canada knew 
 him as the 'glutton,' and modern science knows 
 him as the 'wolverine.' He is the most powerful 
 of the weasel family, and, like the weasel, is abso- 
 lutely without fear. Even the big gray wolf, the 
 scourge of the wold, prefers not to rouse the sav- 
 age and ruthless ferocity of the wolverine. Once, 
 two gray wolves, lean with hunger, met with a 
 wolverine. He snarled and they slunk away. Yet 
 those two wolves would have made short work of 
 a full-grown buffalo. 
 
 "There are a good many stories told about the 
 wolverine, many of them true, some exaggerated. 
 But I chance to know one that happened to my 
 cousin, in the wooded country southwest of Hud-
 
 Courtesy of " Outing" Magazine. 
 
 THE BKST-HATED ANIMAL ON EARTH. 
 
 The wolverine of the north is well described by his popular names, 
 
 "glutton," "rogue," "mountain devil," "skunk hear," and 
 
 "carcajou." He is the trapper's chief enemy 
 
 and possesses a malignant intelligence 
 
 which often outwits human craft.
 
 RAIDERS OF THE N13HT 325 
 
 son's Bay, which will give you some idea of what 
 cunring you will have to circumvent, if you want 
 to trap a wolverine. 
 
 "My cousin was trapping for mink and marten, 
 and had one hundred and fifty traps out on his 
 line, when the road was discovered by a very old 
 wolverine. John was in the habit of visiting his 
 traps every ten days or so, but the wolverine came 
 oftener. For three weeks my cousin tried in vain 
 to catch the beast and John was no green hand. 
 The animal carefully avoided the traps set for his 
 own benefit and seemed to be taking more delight 
 than ever in demolishing the marten traps and 
 eating the marten, scattering the poles in every 
 direction and hiding in caches such bait or martens 
 as he did not devour on the spot. Finally my 
 cousin decided to put a stop to the annoyance, cost 
 what it might. As he had not poison and, even 
 if he had, it is doubtful if it would have fooled the 
 wolverine he set a gun on the bank of a little 
 lake. The gun was concealed in some low bushes, 
 but the bait was so placed that the wolverine 
 must see it on his way up the bank. John block- 
 aded the path to the gun with a small pine-tree, 
 which completely hid the weapon. 
 
 "On his first visit afterward, he found that the
 
 W o I v e y in e. ' - 
 
 326
 
 Wolverine or Indian JJev/il 
 
 327
 
 328 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 beast had gone up to the bait and smelled it, but 
 left it untouched. It had next pulled away the 
 pine tree which blocked the path and gone around 
 the gun and cut the line which connected the bait 
 with the trigger, just behind the muzzle. 
 
 1 'Then it had gone back, pulled the bait away 
 and carried it out on the lake where it laid down 
 and devoured the bait at leisure. There my cou- 
 sin found the string. 
 
 "He could scarcely believe that this had been 
 done designedly, for it seemed that faculties fully 
 on a par with human reason would be needed for 
 such an exploit, if done intentionally. My cousin, 
 therefore, rearranged things, tying the string 
 where it had been bitten. 
 
 "But the result was the same* for three succes- 
 sive occasions, as the footprints plainly showed, 
 and, what was most singular of all, each time the 
 brute was careful to cut the line a little back of 
 where it had been tied before, as if actually reason- 
 ing within itself that even the knots might be some 
 new trick of Man's and therefore a source of hid- 
 den danger it might prudently avoid. 1 
 
 i This wolverine story, one of the classic cases, was an actual 
 occurrence to a Mr. Lockhart, trapping in the Peel's River coun- 
 try. It may be found in detail in Andersch Bros' "Hunters' and 
 Trappers' Guide," a valuable work for practical trapping.
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 329 
 
 ''How do you reckon that the wolverine knew 
 that the gun meant danger? Still more, how 
 could he reason that there was less danger near 
 the butt of the gun than the muzzle? And, fur- 
 ther yet, how could he follow the plan that the line 
 was the connecting point? Is not that more like 
 human than animal reasoning? 
 
 "It was the same wolverine, that, a little later, 
 found a hare in a steel trap which had been set 
 for himself. He not only devoured the hare, but 
 actually picked up the trap, gnawed it away from 
 the stake, and carried that trap a mile away, up 
 hill and down dale, with many twists and turns to 
 elude a possible pursuer and then hid the trap in 
 a hole he dug for the purpose. That beast was 
 not only not content with springing the trap, but 
 actually wanted to leave the trapper without traps, 
 so as to minimize his own risk. How's that for 
 reasoning?" 
 
 "Did your cousin ever catch the wolverine?" 
 asked Gavan. 
 
 * ' He did, at last, ' ' the Forester answered. ' * He 
 had begun to miss a number of things from his 
 cabin, including his only frying-pan, and he knew 
 well that when he was out on the trap line, the 
 wolverine stole from the cabin, and when he was
 
 330 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 in the cabin the beast stole from the trap line. 
 Now, my cousin figured, while an animal might 
 have learnt a great deal about traps and matters 
 like that, in the wild, it would not know much 
 about houses. Accordingly he polished a small 
 saucepan until it was bright, knowing the wolver- 
 ine's love for bright things, and left a savory 
 greasy mess in the pot, burned a little and stuck 
 to the bottom. In the pot he placed a piece of 
 lead. Then he balanced this pot on a long stick 
 of wood which propped up the door, and fastened 
 a strong spring from the door to the door post. 
 
 ' ' This done, my cousin went out on his trap-line, 
 chuckling at the thought of the trick which he 
 would play on the wolverine. When he came 
 back, a couple of hours later, the door was shut. 
 Peering through the rough window, made from the 
 thinly scraped intestines of a deer, he saw some- 
 thing dark moving on the floor. Pulling open 
 the sash, he poked his rifle through the window and 
 fired. It took a second shot before the wolverine 
 rolled over and lay still. From that day on, not 
 a single trap was disturbed." 
 
 "Were there no other wolverines around?" 
 asked the boy. 
 
 "Evidently not. They are not social animals,
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 331 
 
 and it is rare to find two close together. As for 
 this wolverine that you have seen, I haven't the 
 least idea how he could have got here. Wolverine 
 used to be found in quantities in Utah and Col- 
 orado, but for thirty or forty years, I haven't 
 heard of one south of Montana. What has 
 brought him so far out of his range, I haven't an 
 idea, but, from your description, I should say it's 
 an old beast, long isolated from his fellows and 
 which has come along the Colorado mountains, 
 crossing the plains in winter. After all, the 
 Sangre de Cristo joins up pretty well with the 
 range of the Rockies. 
 
 "Maybe he's got rheumatism or consumption 
 and has come south for his health!" he concluded, 
 smiling at the lad. 
 
 "It isn't going to be healthy for him," an- 
 swered the boy savagely, "at least, not if I can 
 help it. I'm going to catch the scoundrel alive, 
 if it takes a fortnight!" 
 
 "You'll be lucky to succeed, if it takes all sum- 
 mer," responded the Forester. "Why don't you 
 get Quick Feather to help you?" 
 
 "I tried," the boy answered, and related the 
 old Indian's fear of "bad medicine." 
 
 The Forester opened his eyes in surprise.
 
 332 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "Evidently he knew what the tracks meant," 
 he said; "I don't wonder at an Indian thinking 
 that beast 'bad medicine.' That's what he is. 
 But how do you propose to go about catching 
 him?" 
 
 " I don't know yet," answered the boy, for he 
 did not want to give away his plans. "But I'll 
 fool him you see if I don't!" 
 
 But, as he rode home, Gavan puzzled himself 
 to think how he could trap that wolverim. He 
 lay awake most of the night, and, towards morning 
 an idea occurred to him. He went to sleep on it. 
 
 "You see, Duff," he said, addressing the old 
 dog, as was his habit in the long lonely times in the 
 cabin for, after all, Gavan was young to live 
 alone, month after month, "you see, Duff, this 
 beast isn't atraid of man. If he were, he 
 wouldn't go into a house. He's sprung those 
 traps so often now, and got a good meal out of it, 
 that he's likely to continue. Suppose," he con- 
 tinued, "I should make a box trap, like for rab- 
 bits, and put the steel trap inside, with the live 
 bait. If the wolverine found that steel trap and 
 sprung it, he'd be satisfied that he'd found out the 
 trick and would go to the squirrel without think- 
 ing. Then I could make a sliding door with a
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 333 
 
 figure-four pin, and Mr. Wolverine would be 
 caught!" 
 
 It meant work, but Gavan was not afraid of 
 work. He set out the following morning with an 
 ax and built around one of the traps a strong 
 stockade of poles about three inches thick which 
 he drove into the ground six inches deep. On 
 these he laid logs, weighted with stones, and made 
 a sliding catch which, when the live squirrel was 
 seized, would pull down the door. 
 
 Next day, hardly waiting for daylight, Gavan 
 rode up to the trap. As he drew near he could 
 have shouted for joy. 
 
 The door was sprung ! 
 
 Hastily jumping off his horse, Gavan ran up to 
 the box trap and peered in. 
 
 It was empty! 
 
 Flabbergasted, the boy walked round, only to 
 find a deep hole under the stockade. The wolver- 
 ine had quietly sprung the trap, eaten the squirrel 
 and then dug his way out. Gavan had forgotten 
 the gnawing properties of those powerful teeth. 
 Had the boy been a bit younger, he would have 
 cried; as it was, he only set his teeth and deter- 
 mined to get that wolverine, anyway. 
 
 He baited that trap, as before, to make the beast
 
 334 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 think that this was the only point of danger and 
 went on to the next one, this time taking not only 
 an ax, but a shovel as well. He dug under that 
 trap a pit at least six feet deep, and lined the sides 
 of it with split poles, the bottom being floored as 
 well as sides. Then, over the pit, he laid a frail 
 platform of rotten sticks, sprinkled dead leaves 
 over them and then set the trap, finally covering 
 all with a thin layer of earth as usual. This took 
 the whole day, and Gavan rode home that night 
 well-pleased with himself. Surely the wolverine 
 would be caught at last ! 
 
 Early the next morning he rode to the trap. 
 The hole yawned open! Had he caught the wol- 
 verine or had something else trodden there? 
 
 With his heart beating like a trip-hammer for 
 excitement, the boy peered in. 
 
 Nothing was to be seen save a deep hole leading 
 down into the ground. 
 
 Could the wolverine have got away? 
 
 It would have been easy enough to have found 
 out by dropping one of the Airedales into the pit, 
 for the terrier would have asked nothing better 
 than to follow the wolverine into his hole, but 
 Gavan was afraid for his dogs. He knew that a 
 gray wolf could make hay of half-a-dozen dogs
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 335 
 
 and that a wolverine was not afraid of a gray 
 wolf. The Airedale might easily get the worst 
 of the fight, and, if he did not, the wolverine might 
 be killed. Gavan wanted him alive. 
 
 As he was looking, and wondering, the head of 
 the wolverine, with its demon face, looking almost 
 as evil by daylight as at night, poked itself out of 
 the hole and the beast leaped upwards. 
 
 Gavan started back in alarm. 
 
 But the sides of the hole were too steep for 
 climbing, with the poles flattened so that they 
 gave no hold, and the distance was too high for 
 a heavy, squat creature such as the wolverine to 
 cover by a leap. 
 
 Full of triumph, Gavan ran to his horse, took 
 the lariat, and deftly dropped the running noose 
 over the neck of the wolverine. 
 
 The prey was caught. 
 
 Then, like a flash, Gavan found himself face to 
 face with a serious problem. He was in exactly 
 the same position as that of the cowboy who had 
 lassoed a bear. It had been easy enough to lasso 
 him, the question was how to get rid of him. 
 Gavan had often laughed at the ranch boss's de- 
 scription of the lassoed bear chasing the cowboy, 
 every once in a while being choked into sub-
 
 336 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 mission, but resuming the chase as soon as he 
 got his breath. 
 
 Likewise, Gavan had the wolverine, but if he 
 let go the slack of the noose for a moment, it was 
 evident that the brute would bite through the 
 rope. Then an idea occurred to him. Taking the 
 chains off three of the traps, the one that had been 
 set and two that he was carrying with him, he 
 wired the rings together and made a ring of chain 
 which he dropped over the beast's neck, with the 
 other end of the rope. This done, he bent down 
 a small tree near by and fastened the rope to 
 it so that there would be a strain on the beast's 
 neck, not enough to choke it, but enough to keep it 
 from continuing to dig the hole, while, at the 
 same time, the chain would prevent the wolverine 
 biting itself free. Then Gavan spurred for An- 
 tonio's home. 
 
 "I've caught your thief," he cried, "but it isn't 
 a bear, it's an Indian devil." 
 
 The Mexican misunderstood. 
 
 "I kill him, "he said. 
 
 "No," explained the boy, "it's not a real Indian, 
 but a beast, a wolverine. I '11 show you. I caught 
 him in a pit and I want to take him out alive, but I 
 don't know how."
 
 Courtesy of " Outing" Magazine. 
 
 THE ANIMAL SPIRIT OF EVIL. 
 
 Clumsy, cunning, and ferocious, the wolverine is the largest member of 
 
 the bloodthirsty weasel family, and was feared by the 
 
 Indians even more than a grizzly she-bear with cubs.
 
 RAIDERS OF THE NIGHT 337 
 
 The Mexican's eyes lightened. 
 
 "I can do that," he said. 
 
 Sending his oldest boy to call two or three 
 of his neighbors, he took a large cowhide and 
 a bundle of baling wire. Beaching the pit, and 
 ignoring the boy's protest that they would choke 
 the animal to death, he pulled the wolverine out 
 of the pit. 
 
 Two other Mexicans threw themselves on the 
 animal, wrapping the cowhide around it before 
 it had a chance to strike out with the claws. The 
 bit of a horse's bridle was forced into the jaws 
 and tied back to the forelegs. Then, cautiously, 
 the hind-legs were released and tied, the forelegs 
 likewise, and the beast thrown up on the saddle in 
 front of Gavan, who bore him in triumph to the 
 town, displaying to the people of Taos the first 
 wolverine captured alive in New Mexico. 
 
 But, what was even more important to Gavan, he 
 was vindicated in the eyes of all the Mexicans, 
 and even those who had been the readiest to show 
 hostility came forward and proffered friendship, 
 a friendship which Gavan came to learn to value 
 as much as that of any English-speaking Ameri- 
 can.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 CATCHING THE WEEEWOLF 
 
 The capture of the wolverine not only increased 
 Gavan's reputation, but also added to the small 
 bank account which he was building up. As be- 
 fore, the XO Ranch had agreed to pasture his 
 stock during the summer, the very small charge 
 therefor being taken out of the price of the hay 
 which Gavan was raising on his irrigated land. 
 Likewise, his early spring catch of coyotes had 
 brought him in quite a snug little sum of money 
 for the fur, and now he sold the wolverine to a 
 menagerie for seventy-five dollars. It was a good 
 haul. 
 
 Not only did the victory over the wolverine give 
 Gavan local prestige, for no one had ever seen 
 such a beast before, but, from the scientific point 
 of view, the capture of the beast in the mountains 
 of New Mexico, so far south of its usual range, 
 was of biological importance. Accordingly, 
 Winon wrote to the boy asking him for all the de- 
 338
 
 CATCHING THE WERE-WOLF 339 
 
 tails and for photographs of the animal, as well as 
 exact reports concerning its method of capture. 
 Gavan worked these up with great care, thanks 
 to the aid of the Forest Supervisor, and these re- 
 ports brought Gavan even more conspicuously be- 
 fore the eyes of those who were already watching 
 his career with interest. 
 
 As Win on had written in a letter to Washing- 
 ton: 
 
 ''This young fellow, Gavan Keary, seems to 
 have a natural ability as a trapper. I enclose 
 his record of coyotes caught during the months 
 of April and May and also the account of his 
 capture of the wolverine, with affidavits, for which 
 you asked. I also wish to report that he has spent 
 some time with one of our bear-trappers, J. J. 
 McLeod, and I am informed by the latter that the 
 aforementioned Gavan Keary proved himself an 
 able assistant. 
 
 "As the work of the Biological Survey, here, 
 need^ more men, and these men should preferably 
 be trained in our ways, I contemplate, if this 
 meets with the wishes of the Department, to give 
 Keary some temporary work this summer. He, 
 himself, is anxious to be employed by the Govern- 
 ment." 
 
 None of which correspondence Gavan knew any- 
 thing about, only, he worked to the utmost to win 
 the good opinions of his desired chief. Now, 
 when coyotes were found to run by certain trails,
 
 340 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 the Mexicans, who had been his enemies before, 
 voluntarily came and told him. The boy's catch 
 of animals increased. Young Mexican lads, ten 
 years of age, would undertake the responsibility 
 of looking after one or two traps for him, at out- 
 lying parts of his range, and count it a triumph 
 for themselves when they found a coyote or a 
 bob-cat caught. 
 
 Then, one day, the ranch boss rode over to 
 Gavan's place, his face dark and lowering. 
 
 " Youngster, " he said peremptorily, "do you 
 know I Ve lost as many as a couple dozen cattle in 
 two weeks by a wolf I" 
 
 "No," answered the boy, a little resentful at 
 Thin-lip Jack's tone, though knowing that it was 
 only his manner. "I heard, though, that a tour- 
 ist party had come by the other day and cut your 
 fence. Sure the cattle haven't escaped and are 
 out on the mountains somewhere ? ' ' 
 
 "Think I'm a fool?" queried the ranch boss, 
 roughly. "I ain't no professional trapper like 
 you " the ranch boss was really fuming within, 
 or he would not have sneered at the boy, who was 
 one of his special favorites "but I know a wolf- 
 track when I see one. An' this is large enough 
 an' deep enough for a wolf the size of a horse."
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 341 
 
 Gavan looked up quickly. 
 
 "But there aren't any wolves the size of a 
 horse," he said quietly. 
 
 The ranch boss broke out angrily. 
 
 "Of all the durn fool" 
 
 Then he stopped at the expression on the lad's 
 face. 
 
 "What are you throwin' your rope at?" he 
 queried. 
 
 "I'm not quite a 'professional trapper' yet," 
 the boy returned, not being able to resist the 
 taunt, "but, just the same, I haven't forgotten 
 some queer things that have happened around 
 here. Do you remember Blue Joe Keary?" 
 
 "Of course, but what in blazes has he got to do 
 with it? He's dead." 
 
 "Sure," agreed Gavan, "he's dead, but do you 
 remember how he died, and what I saw the night 
 I watched over his body?" 
 
 "Well, boy?" queried Thin-lip Jack, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "Those tracks were large enough and deep 
 enough for a wolf the size of a horse," said Gavan 
 meaningly. 
 
 "You mean that Wolf -Woman business?" 
 
 "It never did get cleared up, did it?" hazarded
 
 342 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 the boy. ' * And they had trouble over in the Pecos 
 Valley, last year, the same way. I heard about it 
 through Mr. Winon." 
 
 The ranch boss threw a leg over the horn of his 
 saddle and rolled a cigarette, his hard face set into 
 even grimmer lines. 
 
 "Spooks don't rustle cattle," he said at last, 
 1 'or, if they do, they've got to show me. Suppose 
 you drop this coyote business for a while an' see 
 if you can get a line on my cattle. I'll make it 
 worth your while." 
 
 ' ' I '11 do it, without that, ' ' said the lad. ' So far 
 as my line is concerned, I know a couple of Mexi- 
 can boys who'll be only too glad to watch my traps 
 for me if I give 'em half of what they catch. Sure, 
 Jack, I'll come up to the ranch this evening and 
 see if I can find out anything. I'm not a 'pro- 
 fessional trapper,' though," he ended with a 
 laugh, "so you mustn't expect too much." 
 
 "Forget that 'professional' business," said the 
 ranch boss. "I was sore. Any one would be 
 sore if his cattle were leakin out like water from 
 a pail with a hole in it." 
 
 Which was the nearest approach to an apology 
 that Thin-lip Jack had ever made. 
 
 Gavan reached the ranch house that night and
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 343 
 
 found the usual welcome awaiting him. He was 
 popular with the cowboys, and he liked the crowd 
 himself. They ragged him unmercifully when he 
 appeared, for each of them had tried to solve the 
 mystery of the tracks. But Gavan was unper- 
 turbed. He had lived in the West too long not to 
 know how to stand chaff. 
 
 The following morning, with " Pinto" as his 
 guide, Gavan rode out to the place where the wolf- 
 tracks had been seen. By great good luck it had 
 not rained recently on that hillside, although, as 
 customarily, there had been showers all round and 
 on every side. 
 
 One look at the prints was enough for Gavan. 
 He turned to Pinto, who was watching him with 
 great interest, and said quietly: 
 
 ''Those are the same tracks I saw in Ghost 
 Canyon," he said. "Now let's see where the 
 fence was cut." 
 
 "D'ye suppose the wolf cut the fence?" queried 
 the cow-puncher. 
 
 "Doesn't sound reasonable, does it?" the boy 
 admitted. "But you can't ever tell about a wolf, 
 leastways, not a wolf as heavy as to make that 
 kind of a track." 
 
 "You dope it out that it ain't a wolf at all,
 
 344 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 then," asked the cattleman, catching an inner 
 meaning in the boy's words. 
 
 "I don't know," the boy replied, "I'm just try- 
 ing to find out. But, three years ago, when Blue 
 Joe died, Quick Feather said the tracks weren't 
 those of a wolf. I've watched Quick Feather a 
 lot of times since then, and I've never found him 
 wrong on a track." 
 
 "Well," said Pinto, after they had ridden a few 
 hundred yards along the fence, "I don't see what 
 you're drivin' at. Anyway, here's where the 
 fence was cut. There ain't nothin' to see here 
 now, the rain's washed all the tracks away. But 
 they was the wheels of a buzz-wagon all right, 
 with the tires showin' like the regular ones on a 
 tin Lizzie." 
 
 Gavan straightened up. 
 
 "The wheel-marks are washed away and the 
 wolf-tracks aren't," he remarked. "What was 
 the last day you had rain right around here?" 
 
 The cowboy thought a moment. 
 
 ' * Thursday, ' ' he said, * ' there was a right smart 
 shower." 
 
 "And you missed the cattle, when?" 
 
 "Around the end o' the week, some time." 
 
 "Pinto," said the boy, "between you and me,
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 345 
 
 I think the buzz-wagon and the wolf are working 
 up a deal together." 
 
 "How?" asked the cowboy. 
 
 But the boy shook his head, declining to reveal 
 his plans. 
 
 "I'll have to talk it over with Jack, first," he 
 said, * ' your chaps would guy me off the place if I 
 came in with the wrong dope. ' ' 
 
 "Maybe they would," the other agreed, and 
 they turned the ponies' heads for the home corral. 
 
 Gavan made a bee-line for the ranch boss, and 
 took him aside, talking to him earnestly. The 
 ranch boss looked at first incredulous, then 
 rapidly grew more interested. Finally he swung 
 on his neel. 
 
 "I'll take a chance," he said, and called to one 
 of the younger men to ride to Taos for the sheriff. 
 Another of the cowboys was sent to a neighboring 
 ranch with the simple statement that as many 
 men as could be spared were needed to round up 
 some cattle-rustlers. The other riders on the 
 place opened their eyes at this message, but Thin- 
 lip Jack gave no further information. 
 
 By afternoon, sixty men were gathered and the 
 sheriff, having had a long conference with Gavan 
 and Thin-lip Jack, addressed the crowd.
 
 346 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "I suppose you all know," he said, "that 
 there's been quite a few cattle lost lately, not only 
 right around here, but in the Pecos an' higher up 
 the range. Some of it has been due to wolves, an' 
 some to bear, maybe, but the number lost is too 
 many for the wolf an' bear tracks that have been 
 seen. McLeod, here, is as good a bear-hunter as 
 there is in the state of New Mexico, an' our young 
 friend, Gavan Keary, isn't any slouch when it 
 comes to wolves an' coyotes. Quick Feather, a 
 wonder on the trail, as most of you know, has 
 been examinin' the tracks, an' Mr. Winon, the 
 head of the Biological Survey in this state, when 
 he was here made a careful study of the situation, 
 too. They all agree that the predatory animals 
 to be found here do not in any reasonable pro- 
 portion tally with the losses. 
 
 "Now, boys, we're all agreed that the cattle 
 which have disappeared both on this side of the 
 mountains an ' in the Pecos Valley have been taken 
 by two-legged wolves. We're sure there's a gang 
 of cattle-rustlers workin' in the mountains, and 
 Gavan has given us a possible clew as to where 
 they are. Nothin's definite as yet, but there's 
 no use in scarin' the gang away in case they're 
 the men we're lookin' for. We don't want any
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 347 
 
 shootin' if we can help it. Let's have everything 
 done in law and order. 
 
 " Pinto, here, who knows the mountains like an 
 old buffalo knows his way to a salt-lick, will lead 
 half the boys to a saddle-back away back of Three- 
 of-a-Kind Spring, near the divide. Any men or 
 any cattle comin' up that way are to be turned 
 back. The rest of you will go down to where the 
 Ghost Canyon runs into Pot Creek. No one is to 
 get by, but keep the guns quiet if you can. Don 't 
 hesitate to shoot, though, if any one escapes. An' 
 so that everything may be regular, I'll swear the 
 lot of you in as deputy sheriffs for the day. Hold 
 up your right hands." 
 
 The oath was duly administered and taken. 
 Then the sheriff continued: 
 
 "Thin-lip Jack, Clip Corbett (a neighboring 
 ranchman), the boy an' I are goin' to do a little 
 climb in' on foot, an' I want a couple of the boys 
 to come with us, in case I have to send word to 
 either of the two bunches. I want some one who 
 knows the country an' isn't scared to use his 
 spurs." 
 
 The ranch boss named a couple of his men. 
 
 "I don't know," ended the sheriff, "any more 
 than you do, just what we're goin' to find, but
 
 348 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 I'm bankin' on it that we find some thin'. The 
 evidence is tolerable plain. Now, boys, off with 
 you!" 
 
 The two cavalcades rode off with much laugh- 
 ing and shouting, and when they had gone, the 
 sheriff turned to Gavan. 
 
 ' ' You 're sure you know your way to the place ? ' ' 
 
 "Sure," the boy answered, confidently. "I 
 wanted to blaze a trail, but I was afraid some one 
 might see and get wind of what was up. But I 
 made careful note and can take you there straight, 
 I'm positive." 
 
 "Let's so, then," said the sheriff, and he un- 
 wrapped a parcel which he had carried on his 
 saddle, exposing a large megaphone. 
 
 Gavan grinned at the sight of it. 
 
 "That's a good idea, Hunch," he said. 
 
 "I've got a right smart likin' for my skin," the 
 sheriff replied, "an' if I can work this dodge with- 
 out showin ' myself, so much the better. ' ' 
 
 The small party of six swung into their saddles 
 and started. After a couple of hours ' ride, Gavan 
 turned to the sheriff. 
 
 "I believe we had better leave our horses here," 
 he said, when they had reached an open mountain
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 349 
 
 meadow surrounded on three sides by rocky walls, 
 "it's a stiff climb from now on." 
 
 The boy was right. The climb was more than 
 stiff, it was precipitous, and Gavan, as well as the 
 rest of the men, had to stop and blow for breath 
 before they were halfway up. 
 
 "You ain't tryin' to make us think they took 
 cattle up here?" queried the ranch boss. 
 
 "No," said the boy, "I haven't the faintest idea 
 how the cattle got in. But there's cattle in the 
 canyon, I'm sure, just the same." 
 
 They set their faces to the cliff again, and 
 climbed and scrambled for an hour. Then Gavan 
 uttered an exclamation. 
 
 "Just on the dot!" he said. "There's two 
 stones I put one on top of the other, so that I 
 should come the right way. It's not so far, now. " 
 
 Followed a slithering scramble down into a ra- 
 vine, at which Thin-lip Jack looked puzzled. 
 
 "I used to run cattle over this part o' the moun- 
 tains when it was all open range," he said, "but I 
 never saw this valley afore." 
 
 "My dogs ran a bear-track over here once," 
 the boy replied, "that's how I found it. But the 
 bear knew more than I did, or the dogs either, for
 
 350 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 he got away suddenly, just as if he'd taken an 
 aeroplane. ' ' 
 
 "Where do we go from here?" queried one of 
 the cowboys, looking around on all sides. 
 
 "Up the cliffs," said Gavan, pointing to an- 
 other sheer climb ahead of them. 
 
 "Wings would be handy," was the only com- 
 ment, and the men started to climb. It seemed 
 almost inaccessible and assuredly no one on horse- 
 back could have made the ascent. Only on foot 
 could the place be reached. 
 
 "I'm not as young as I used to be," was the 
 sheriff's panting comment, when he reached the 
 top. "How much more of this is there, Gavan?" 
 
 "Not much more," said the boy. "We're 
 nearly there." 
 
 He led the way along the ridge for a quarter of 
 a mile or so, then stopped suddenly. 
 
 "Look," he said, "aren't those cattle down 
 there?" 
 
 The men crowded together and followed the 
 pointing finger. 
 
 The sheriff was the first to catch sight of some 
 brown specks in a valley far below. 
 
 "They sure are," he said, "but how do you 
 know that they're not some of the XO bunch?"
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 351 
 
 The ranch boss answered that question. 
 
 "They may be some of my brand," he said, 
 "but I'll swear I never had a round-up here, what- 
 ever. Suppose we go down an' have a look at 
 'em?" 
 
 An hour's cautious climbing brought the party 
 to the lower valley lands, and Thin-lip Jack, ad- 
 vancing quietly to the edge of the brush, scanned 
 the herd. Nearly a hundred head were feeding 
 quietly together. 
 
 "There's some o' my brand," he said, grimly, 
 when he came back, "an' I saw three or four o' 
 yours, Chip, some of the Circle Arrow, an' I don't 
 know what all. Now, where 's the nest o' these 
 varmints? I'd like to get my paws on 'em an* 
 show 'em what's what!" 
 
 The sheriff shook his head. 
 
 "No, Jack," he said, "that isn't the idea at all, 
 at all. What's the use o r gettin' shot up for 
 nothin"? Let me fire my shout-gun first," and 
 he motioned to the megaphone. 
 
 "All right, Hunch," the ranch boss answered; 
 "you're dealin' this hand. But I don't want the 
 gang to get away." 
 
 "They won't!" answered the sheriff, con- 
 fidently. "The rest o' the boys '11 take care o'
 
 352 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 that." Then, turning to Gavan, he added, "do 
 you know where their camp is!" 
 
 "I don't," the boy answered, "I was afraid to 
 hunt around alone, too much. I knew if they were 
 rustlers, they'd shoot first and ask questions 
 afterwards. But it ought to be up the valley, 
 oughtn't it! A camp is generally near a spring." 
 
 "Sure!" agreed the sheriff, nodding approval 
 of this principle, and the six men, as quietly as 
 they could, ascended the valley, climbing a side 
 hill at the same time. Then, in the distance, the 
 ranch boss suddenly halted. 
 
 "I saw somethin' shine," he said, and stepped 
 back a pace or two, moving his head sideways and 
 back and forward. "There it is again," he ex- 
 claimed. "See, Hunch?" 
 
 He stepped back, and the sheriff took the same 
 spot, at last getting the point. 
 
 "Something bright, that's sure," the sheriff 
 agreed. "Suppose it's a window?" 
 
 "Must be," the ranch boss agreed, "I don't 
 know anything else as would shine as bright. 
 But if it's a window, where 's the house!" 
 
 "I don't think it could be a window, Hunch," 
 put in the boy. 
 
 "Why not?"
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 353 
 
 ''Because a window wouldn't shine unless it re- 
 flected the sun, and the sun isn't behind our backs 
 but 'way over to the west. ' ' 
 
 ''Well, then, what do you think it is? A 
 diamond mine?" 
 
 "It might be a tin can," the boy hazarded. 
 
 The ranch boss brought his hand against his 
 thigh with a resounding slap. 
 
 "The lad's hit it!" he declared. "I bet a stack 
 o' blue chips that's just what it is a tin can. 
 Like enough, the camp won't be so far away. 
 But where are the tents!" 
 
 "They might be camouflaged," the sheriff sug- 
 gested, "covered with green boughs or the like. 
 That would make 'em durn hard to see." 
 
 "Let's make for the tin can, then," said Thin- 
 lip Jack. "We ought to be somewhere near, 
 then." 
 
 The party descended cautiously. 
 
 Then, through the silence of the woods, came 
 the most familiar of all camp sounds, an ax-blow. 
 
 The sheriff held up his hand for silence. 
 Every one knew the sound. Some one was cutting 
 wood for the camp. Yet, though the sheriff's 
 party was so close, not a sign of the camp could 
 be seen. Stealthily the six men approached.
 
 354 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 Woodsmen all, their footsteps were scarcely 
 audible. Then voices were to be heard, speak- 
 ing Spanish. Even so, not a sign of a camp could 
 seen. 
 
 Whispering, the sheriff disposed the men so 
 that each one was hidden behind a large tree or 
 rock. Then, taking a concealed position, he lifted 
 the megaphone and called, in a clear, penetrating 
 voice, in Spanish, 
 
 "Hands up!" 
 
 There was a dead silence. The blows of the ax 
 ceased. The forest fell still. 
 
 "Your game is over," came this mysterious 
 hollow voice from the megaphone. "This is 
 Hunch Capton, the sheriff, speakin'. Your bunch 
 o' stolen cattle has been seen an' identified, both 
 ends of the canyon are held by XO and Circle 
 Arrow men. Do you give yourselves up?" 
 
 The ensuing silence was suddenly split by a 
 fusillade. The bullets rattled against the walls 
 of the opposite side of the canyon, for the echo 
 made it seem as though the voice came from that 
 side. Immediately thereafter, there was a rattle 
 of bars. 
 
 "Getting the horses out," said Thin-lip Jack. 
 "Hunch, let me rush 'em!"
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 355 
 
 But the sheriff held him back. 
 
 "If you surrender peaceably," he continued, in 
 the low megaphone drone, "I'll see that you get 
 a fair trial. If you don't, there's fifty men at 
 each end of the canyon with orders to shoot at 
 sight." 
 
 Then a voice answered. 
 
 "If you're Hunch Capton," it said, "show your- 
 self!" 
 
 The sheriff chuckled. 
 
 "They think we're on the other side o' the 
 canyon," he whispered. "Jack, you and Chip 
 back me up, but don't fire unless I drop." 
 
 The two men protested. 
 
 "We'll tackle them together," they said. 
 
 The sheriff's jaw set firm. 
 
 "You'll do as I say," he said, curtly. "This 
 is my job!" 
 
 As quietly as an Indian, the two ranchmen fol- 
 lowing, the sheriff started down the hill. He was 
 nearer the camp than he knew, for suddenly, he 
 came upon the clearing. Five men, each with 
 drawn guns, were facing the opposite side of the 
 clearing, watching the rugged hillside. 
 
 "We've got the drop on you," said a quiet 
 voice in their rear, and the rustlers wheeled to
 
 356 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 see Hunch Capton and two men behind him. 
 One of the rustlers shot as he turned, and the 
 bullet whizzed close to the sheriff's ear. The 
 reply was almost instantaneous. Before the echo 
 of the rustler's shot had reached the opposite cliff, 
 Hunch's gun spoke, and the would-be slayer fell 
 in his tracks. 
 
 "If any of the rest of you wants to take that 
 death-trail," remarked the sheriff, menacingly, 
 "all he has to do is to make a move." 
 
 He advanced slowly, the two ranchmen follow- 
 ing. 
 
 "There are four of you and six guns with the 
 drop on you," continued the sheriff, "what's the 
 answer?" 
 
 At that instant, the clatter of horse 's hoofs was 
 heard. The rustlers' eyes lightened, but the three 
 men facing them were too old hands to turn their 
 heads around to see what might be going on. 
 
 "Drop those guns o' yours," the official added, 
 sternly. "Drop 'em right on the ground, an' 
 pronto!" 
 
 Sullenly, first one and then another dropped his 
 gun, until four guns were on the ground, five, in 
 fact, for one of the men had held two six-shooters. 
 
 "You can take about three paces forward,
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 357 
 
 now, ' ' the sheriff ordered, * ' that '11 keep you from 
 bein' tempted to pick 'em up again. An' the 
 first man that draws a knife won't have any time 
 to say his prayers." 
 
 "He sure won't," appended Thin-lip Jack, 
 grimly. 
 
 The rustlers obeyed the order. They had 
 recognized the three men and knew them to be 
 among the quickest and best shots in the 
 mountains. The sheriff slipped his guns back into 
 place and strode forward with a pair of handcuffs, 
 which he clipped on the apparent leader of the 
 band. Then, snatching the handkerchiefs which 
 were around the men's necks, he tied the hands 
 of the other three. This done, he searched them 
 for weapons, throwing out a little arsenal of guns 
 and knives. 
 
 With the rustlers thus reduced to harmlessness, 
 he flung a question at them, 
 
 "How many more in the gang?" 
 
 "No sabe," answered the leader. 
 
 "Too bad," said the sheriff. "If you could let 
 us know who they were, I could get word to the 
 boys not to kill at sight. As it is now, they'll 
 be shot." 
 
 A flicker passed over the eyes of the foremost
 
 358 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 man, evidently a half-breed Mexican and white. 
 
 ' * One of them is my woman, ' ' he said. 
 
 The sheriff's eyes narrowed. As he knew well, 
 the shooting of a woman would turn public senti- 
 ment against the posse. 
 
 "I happen to know that you can head them off 
 if you want to, ' ' he said, confidently, though this 
 was, of course, only a guess. But he read the an- 
 swer in the man 's eyes. 
 
 "Chip," he said, "take the other two men an' 
 get the horses o' four o' these rustlers out o' 
 the corral. Put this chap on a horse, tied good 
 an' solid, an' make him show you where the rest 
 have gone. Don't shoot. We don't want to hurt 
 that woman, but we Ve got to have all the gang. ' ' 
 
 The ranchman nodded, and within a few 
 minutes the four horses were caught, saddled, the 
 chief of the gang was placed on horseback, and the 
 party of four disappeared. Meanwhile, the 
 sheriff tightened the bonds of the other three, tied 
 their legs and sat down to watch them. Gavan, 
 who had come forward as soon as the shooting, 
 was over, and who had watched all this without 
 saying a word, now suddenly uttered a loud cry, 
 
 "The tracks!" 
 
 "What is it, Gavan," asked the sheriff, with-
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 359 
 
 out taking his eyes off the prisoners, bound as they 
 were. 
 
 "The tracks of the Wolf -woman, " the boy ex- 
 plained. "I was sure of it!" 
 
 "Sure of what?" put in the ranch boss, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 "Hunch," asked the boy, "can I look around a 
 little?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," said the sheriff doubt- 
 fully, "but don't go far an' don't get into any 
 trouble. There might be some more of these 
 gentlemen around, you know." 
 
 "I'll be careful," rejoined the boy, in a fever 
 of excitement, and he darted off toward the thick 
 brush. Presently, the sheriff and the ranch boss 
 heard a shout of triumph, and, a moment later, 
 the boy appeared dragging a wolf-skin in one 
 hand, and some clumsy looking articles in the 
 other. He produced these first. 
 
 "Look, Hunch!" he said, and held them out. 
 
 "What are they?" queried the sheriff, puzzled. 
 
 ' ' Don 't you see ? " said the boy. ' i They 're made 
 for fastening to a pony's hoofs, like the shoes 
 that Arctic explorers make for their dogs. Here 's 
 a strap to go round the pastern and a regular 
 shoe for the hoof." He turned them over, and
 
 360 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 showed them. "And on the other side," he 
 pointed out, "these two rubber pads would look 
 just like the paws of a wolf. ' ' 
 
 "What are they made of 1 ?" queried the sheriff, 
 curiously. 
 
 ' * Old automobile casings and tires melted down, 
 I should say," guessed the boy. "They're tough 
 enough. ' ' 
 
 "What's the idea?" 
 
 "To throw any one off the trail," hazarded 
 Gavan. "If cattle are lost, or maybe a calf killed, 
 and some one chances to see wolf-tracks around, 
 it's a cinch that wolves are going to be blamed, 
 not rustlers." 
 
 "You mean," said Thin-lip Jack, "that all these 
 seasons I've been missin' here an' there half a 
 dozen head of cattle an' blamin' the wolves, it's 
 been these pesky cattle-thieves?" He pointed 
 angrily at the men lying on the ground like trussed 
 poultry. 
 
 "Looks like it," said the boy. "Here are the 
 wolf -tracks, and there," pointing down the valley, 
 "are your cattle. 
 
 "But," he continued, "that isn't all!" 
 
 And, with great pride, he exhibited a wolfskin. 
 
 "See," said the youngster, "the front legs of
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 361 
 
 this contraption are fixed up with springs and 
 swivels like on an artificial leg they give soldiers 
 who have been wounded. It's an awful job to run 
 around on hands and knees, but this dodge makes 
 it easy." 
 
 And, to show the plan, Gravan threw the skin 
 over his head, put his arms half-way down in 
 the forelegs and began to cavort around. 
 
 Despite the gravity of the situation, the two 
 men could not help laughing at the boy. 
 
 "Regular wolf -boy!" declared the sheriff, but 
 he had not time to discuss the matter further, 
 when the sound of the returning horses were heard 
 and the four men returned, Chip and the two 
 cowboys each having a prisoner on the saddle 
 before them. 
 
 "I'll be shot!" exclaimed the sheriff, "if they 
 haven't got nothin' but a woman and two kids." 
 
 Chip rode up gravely and looked down at the 
 sheriff. 
 
 "Hunch," he said, seriously, "do you remem- 
 ber those two kids that disappeared half a dozen 
 years ago, an' were supposed to have been eaten 
 by the Wolf -woman?" 
 
 "Yes," said the sheriff, "not that I ever took 
 much stock in the story. What of it?"
 
 362 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 " These are the two kids." 
 
 "So," said the sheriff, and his eye roved from 
 the woman to Gavan, who had stood up, making 
 a curious figure in the wolfskin, with his hands 
 in the forelegs with their artificial arrangements. 
 Then he caught the terror in the woman's eyes, 
 and understood. 
 
 "And this," Chip continued, giving a rough 
 shake of the shoulder to the figure huddled on the 
 saddle in front of him, "is the Wolf -woman." 
 
 The ranch boss gave a short laugh. 
 
 "Like most of these ghost-yarns," he said, "the 
 werewolf shows up as a trick used by a gang of 
 cattle-rustlers to cover their tracks." 
 
 "But why," asked Gavan, turning directly to 
 the woman, "did you try to dig up my cousin's 
 body?" 
 
 The prisoner's brown face, half scowling and 
 half afraid, gave no answer. 
 
 The sheriff, scornfully, gave the required ex- 
 planation. 
 
 "You hadn't emptied Blue Joe's pockets," he 
 said. "You remember I turned quite a little sum 
 of money over to you the next morning! This 
 woman probably saw the attack o' the mountain 
 lion an' saw you make the grave. She never
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 363 
 
 thought you would come back to the haunted 
 canyon, an' figured on messin' up the body so 
 that it would look as though it had been torn by 
 a wild animal. Meantime, she would have 
 pocketed the cash. You're a pretty creature, you 
 are!" he ended. 
 
 The woman turned suddenly and tried to bite 
 the hand of the man holding her. 
 
 The sheriff came a little closer and looked into 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Don't let her bite you, Chip," he warned, 
 "you'd better put a gag in her mouth." 
 
 "Why?" asked the ranchman, laughing; "she 
 won't hurt me." 
 
 "Babies," answered the sheriff, tersely. "I 
 miss my guess if she hasn't been bitttn by a mad 
 wolf some time, an ' got the virus. Once in a long 
 while, people become virus-carriers. I've often 
 thought that a lot of those poor people in the 
 Middle Ages who were burned to death as were- 
 wolves, because they confessed to havin' the witch- 
 power of turnin' into a wolf an' eatin' human 
 flesh, were simply crazed folk who had been bitten 
 by wolves an' hadn't died of hydrophobia." 
 
 "Do wolves go mad, like dogs?" asked Gavan; 
 "I never heard that."
 
 364 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "You can just lay that they do," the sheriff re- 
 turned. "I remember once gettin' a telephone 
 message to go an' rescue a storekeeper, in a small 
 Mexican village. A mad wolf had walked into the 
 store, just as if it had been a dog belongin' to 
 the place an' started snappin' at the storekeeper. 
 He didn't have a loaded gun in the place, an' 
 though he managed to edge his way to where a 
 couple of revolvers were hangin', all his boxes 
 of ammunition were closed and he couldn't get to 
 them. 
 
 "When I got there, the storekeeper was lyin' 
 on a top shelf in his store, mumblin' prayers to 
 all the saints in the calendar, because the shelves 
 were lightly nailed an' he was afraid, every 
 minute, that the nails would pull out an' throw 
 him to the ground into the wolf's jaws. 
 
 "As soon as I came to the door the animal 
 rushed at me, but I stopped him, first shot. He 
 was mad, all right. No wolf, unless he had rabies, 
 would walk into a store like that. 
 
 "Yes, Gavan, hydrophobia among wolves and 
 coyotes is somethin' to reckon with. There was 
 one very bad outbreak in Wyoming, some years 
 ago. So, Chip, if you take my advice, you'll not 
 run any chances of a bite from the Wolf -woman.
 
 CATCHING THE WEREWOLF 365 
 
 It's easy enough to make a gag that won't hurt 
 at all." 
 
 Then, turning to the two cowboys, the sheriff 
 sent them out with word to the two waiting parties 
 that the cattle-thieves were caught. That night, 
 however, two riders who were unable to give an 
 account of themselves, were caught spurring at 
 full speed from the direction of Ghost Canyon, 
 and, afterwards, were found to belong to the gang. 
 
 Of the seven men in the gang, two were Ameri- 
 cans and five Mexicans. Evidently they had 
 carried on their cattle-stealing business for a 
 number of years, but, as the leader confessed at 
 the trial, there "was no money in the business 
 since the days of the open range." It was found 
 that the leader was "wanted" for an old crime 
 in Texas, which was the true cause of his having 
 taken up the outlaw life. 
 
 Before sentencing them to terms of prison, the 
 judge pointed out that, if they had managed a 
 cattle ranch for the same number of years with 
 the same energy that they had shown in steal- 
 ing, their actual gains would have been several 
 times as large. Cattle-rustling in the West is 
 almost a lost art.
 
 CHAPTEE XH 
 
 THE THBEE-LEGGED OUTLAW 
 
 GTAVAN was an important witness in the trial 
 of the cattle-rustlers and his clear and well- 
 handled testimony as to the tracks which he had 
 observed and the means whereby he had reached 
 the conclusion that a cattle-rustlers' gang was 
 operating in Ghost Canyon, earned him the public 
 commendation of the judge. 
 
 Not only that, but, a few weeks after, he re- 
 ceived a letter offering him his expenses and a 
 stated sum per week to try to track an old out- 
 law wolf, on the Truchas Mountains, some little 
 distance from the Taos Mountains, but a part of 
 the same Sangre de Cristo Kange. There was a 
 bounty of $1,000 on the head of the wolf, which the 
 rancher stated would be paid in full to the boy if 
 he caught it, but that, even if there were no cap- 
 ture, his time would be well paid for, just the 
 same. 
 
 The opportunity was too good to lose, for, 
 if there was one thing that Gavan wanted to do, 
 it was to catch 'an outlaw wolf. The New Mexico 
 366
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 367 
 
 chief of the Biological Survey had told him that 
 there was no animal in the world so suspicious as 
 an old gray wolf which had once been nipped 
 in a trap. Gavan, remembering his experience 
 with the wolverine, thought that the latter could 
 outdo and out-think any other creature of the 
 wild. Now, he was to test his wits against "the 
 three-legged outlaw of the Truchas." 
 
 This time Gavan was alone. He was to have no 
 help from Quick Feather, none from friends or 
 neighbors. He was in unfamiliar country. With 
 a handful of traps, and his rifle, he was set in 
 the middle of a range of mountains and told to 
 find a wolf. 
 
 In this difficulty, experience told. 
 
 The cattleman, who had hired him, wanted to 
 take the lad at once to the place where the tracks 
 had last been seen but Gavan shook his head. 
 
 "That isn't any good," he said. "You can't 
 trail a wolf. Maybe, if there were a slight snow- 
 fall on the ground, or if all the world was covered 
 with dust, it could be done. But. from what I've 
 seen and read, it's only in books that the 'wily 
 trapper sees a mark on the ground and tracks the 
 animal to its den.' It sounds great but things 
 aren't done that way."
 
 368 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 "What d' you figure on doin', then?" asked 
 the cattleman. 
 
 "First of all," said the boy, "I want to study 
 the lay of the country. A wolf won't always fol- 
 low a certain trail, but he'll generally keep a kind 
 of a route. An old outlaw, Mr. Winon told me, 
 often travels forty to sixty miles in a night, and 
 doesn 't always go in the same direction, by a long 
 shot. So I've got a circle, probably seventy or 
 eighty miles across, in which to hunt for him, and 
 it's no use starting until I get the hang of that 
 circle. Our friend the 'three-legged-outlaw' has 
 got a certain system of trails of his own, that's 
 sure. Before I can do a thing in trapping, I've 
 got to find those out. ' ' 
 
 The cattleman leaned back and looked at the 
 boy. 
 
 "Youngster," he said, "I believe you've got 
 brains in your head. Everybody, so far, that I've 
 had startin' out after that old outlaw has wanted 
 to trail him. They haven't any one of them 
 succeeded. You talk as if you had some sort of 
 system." 
 
 "Well," the boy said, "Mr. Winon of the 
 Biological Survey, taught me all I know about 
 catching coyotes, and I guess the wolf is the same
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 369 
 
 problem, only a whole lot harder. That's all the 
 system I have. I'll let you know as soon as I have 
 anything definite to say." 
 
 Settling his traps and affairs in the little tent 
 and kit which he had brought over on the old 
 pack-pony, Gavan started an exploration of the 
 territory. In general, it was not unlike the 
 character of the Taos Mountains, and remember- 
 ing the training that he had received from Winon 
 and from McLeod, as well as the topographical 
 teaching he had received from the Forest Super- 
 visor two years before, when he had commenced to 
 dig the irrigation ditch, soon the boy began to 
 trace the lay of the creek valleys and the general 
 relation of the mountain peaks one to the other. 
 
 On one of the lower saddle-backs of the range 
 he sat for some time, motionless, studying the 
 landscape. Apparently, there was neither sound 
 nor motion over the wide wilderness, with the ex- 
 ception of a sharp-shinned hawk soaring in the 
 blue. But, as the boy knew well, along the secret 
 trails leading through the thicket and skirting 
 the bowlders, life went on with an intensity all 
 the deeper and more stringent for the seal of 
 silence laid upon it. The small fugitive kindreds 
 moved noiselessly about their affairs, foraging,
 
 370 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 mating, sometimes even playing, but ever watch- 
 ful, a sleepless vigilance the price of each hour's 
 breath, while, even more furtive, but more inter- 
 mittent in their watchfulness, the hunting and the 
 blood-loving kindred followed the trails. 
 
 Squirrels and chipmunks, the most fearless of 
 the tree-creatures, showed themselves from time 
 to time, but the wood rats lay hid; the pocket- 
 gophers and the prairie dogs ran from their holes, 
 but the meadow-mice were still; far down the 
 valley could be heard the sonorous smack as a 
 beaver's tail gave the warning signal of secrecy, 
 but the porcupine ambled unconcernedly about his 
 business, knowing the protection of his terrible 
 spines; the Manzana and Rocky Mountain cotton- 
 tail rabbits nibbled watchfully, knowing that 
 almost every carnivorous creature looked on them 
 as prey ; while, alone of all creatures, the Arizona 
 skunk slowly wandered from his hollow log in 
 search of grasshoppers, field-mice or ground- 
 birds' eggs, secure in the knowledge that every 
 carnivore would give him a wide berth. 
 
 The Airedales lay at the boy 's feet blinking and 
 sunning themselves, for Gavan had brought them 
 for company rather than for the especial needs 
 of the trip. He knew that the dogs would be will-
 
 track o animal about ^0 lls
 
 372 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 ing enough to trail a big gray wolf, but unequal 
 to the task. Even a three-legged wolf could lead 
 the dogs such a chase that their footpads would 
 be worn out over the rough going which the 
 tougher footpads of a wolf will sustain. More- 
 over, should the gray wolf turn and show fight, it 
 would be the last fight for the dogs. Russian 
 wolf-hounds, even, unless in a large pack, cannot 
 tackle an eighty-pound gray wolf. 
 
 Gavan had a wholesome respect for the timber- 
 wolf. He had seen powerful horses and cattle 
 hamstrung and killed, and he knew well that a 
 wolf's bite, unless it caused an open bleeding 
 wound, means death by blood-poisoning to any 
 animal that suffers it. He knew he was dealing 
 with an animal that can live on one full meal for 
 a week, and which, unlike the coyote, will not 
 allow hunger to steal away his wits. He knew 
 that, in the North, timber-wolves had not hesitated 
 to attack men, and that, if the latter took to the 
 trees, the wolves would wait below until the man 
 fell to the ground from hunger or exposure. 
 
 There were the mountains. Somewhere, among 
 those swelling heights, was hidden the wolf. 
 Along some trail, that night, he would begin his 
 tireless search for food, never twice in the same
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 373 
 
 place, rarely twice in the same way. Where was 
 that trail? 
 
 Gavan did not belittle his task. He was to 
 tackle an animal which could smell the iron of 
 a trap in the ground as surely as a truffle-seek- 
 ing dog can distinguish the infinitesimally small 
 difference in smell between the various forms of 
 fungi, two or three feet underground. He was to 
 outwit an animal which could scan the ground 
 as it trotted along and tell whether a grain of 
 dust had been disturbed or a blade of grass 
 trodden aside. He was to catch an experienced 
 traveler of the wild whose eight years of life had 
 been ceaselessly devoted to the lesson of learning 
 to fear anything and everything strange. 
 
 The boy had learned, by now, the wide differ- 
 ence between the kind of trapping which the 
 Biological Survey had undertaken to do, and that 
 of the average trapper for fur. He knew that 
 whereas, in New Mexico, when the Biological 
 Survey began its work, four years before, at least 
 a thousand timber-wolves were roaming the state, 
 not more than half a dozen cattle-killing wolves 
 existed now. 
 
 Blind chance had nothing to do with his present 
 quest. He could not set a trap, on the chance
 
 374 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 that some passing animal might blunder in. He 
 was not looking for the blunderer. He was after 
 one definite creature, one outlaw, one criminal of 
 the wolf world. In a sense, all gray wolves in 
 civilized sections must be exterminated, for the 
 gray wolf is a killer by nature and habit, but 
 there was only one gray wolf whose hide Gavan 
 coveted, that of the " three-legged outlaw of the 
 Truchas Mountains." 
 
 A week later he went back to the cattleman. 
 
 ''Caught Three-legs yet?" the latter asked 
 jocularly. 
 
 "I'm just about ready to begin," the lad re- 
 plied, seriously. "I just wanted to ask you if 
 I've got the lay of the land here, right." 
 
 He laid down on the table a rough drawing of 
 the country, done in topographical contours, as the 
 Forest Supervisor had taught him. 
 
 "As I see it," said the boy, "there's one stream 
 flowing this way, with a little canyon running into 
 it, which meanders down between a bald and a 
 heavy yellow pine slope " and thus proceeded 
 to describe the section, as he had judged it from 
 his reconnaissance. The ranchman followed him 
 with interest, correcting him from time to time,
 
 t.'ourtesy of " Outing " Magazine. 
 
 A FIGHT AGAINST AWFUL ODDS. 
 
 Once roused by blood, a pack of grey wolves of the Far North, in 
 
 winter time, will even dare to attack man. On foot and 
 
 without firearms, there is little hope of escape.
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 375 
 
 and giving him the names of the peaks and rivers, 
 which Gavan noted down in his sketch map. 
 
 "Now," said the boy, "so far as I understand, 
 Mr. Three-Legs has been seen about all over this 
 stretch." 
 
 "Exactly," said the cattleman, sarcastically. 
 "It's quite easy. He's there. All you have to 
 do, is to find him." 
 
 Gavan ignored the sarcasm. 
 
 "Now," he continued, "if this were a question 
 of a cattle-killing bear, we'd have to take up the 
 possibility of travel over slopes heavily covered 
 with fallen timber or unusually rocky. But with 
 a wolf, it isn't so. A wolf doesn't hunt through 
 fallen timber, and he hates stones. I should think 
 a wolf with one leg a little lame, would be even 
 more particular to travel an easy trail. Be- 
 sides," the boy continued, "Mr. Winon told me 
 that once a wolf takes to killing cattle and sheep, 
 he's apt to find it easier work than chasing wild 
 animals and will stick to that end of it. ' ' 
 
 "Three-legs is lookin' after the sheep, sure 
 enough," the owner of the ranch grimly declared. 
 
 "All right, then," the boy continued; "it's no 
 use working out a trail between the sections of
 
 376 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 the range where there aren't many cattle, but 
 rather between the places where cattle and sheep 
 do gather. Now, that's what I want from you. 
 Can you give me an idea whereabouts the largest 
 bunches of stock are gathered?" 
 
 The cattleman stared at the youngster in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "You act like an old hand instead of a kid," 
 he said. " Where did you get all that dopes'!" 
 
 "I got most of it from Mr. Winon, of the Bio- 
 logical Survey, and one of his hunters," the boy 
 answered, " although an old Indian, who's been 
 one of my best friends all my life, taught me a 
 good many things, too." 
 
 "Well, you learnt them," the other ranchman 
 answered, emphatically. "It's queer that you 
 know Winon so well, for I got a letter from him 
 the other day. I wrote him, oh, I guess it must 
 have been a month ago, tellin' him about this 
 Three-legs, because I know he likes to keep posted 
 on every wolf in the State, just like the captain 
 of a ship at sea wants to know where the ice- 
 bergs are. An', just yesterday, he wrote me say- 
 in' that he would try to come up here in a few 
 days." 
 
 Gravan's eyes sparkled with a sudden zest.
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 377 
 
 1 'Wouldn't I like to beat him to it!" he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Well," said the cattleman, "maybe you will," 
 and he turned to mark on the boy's chart the 
 localities where the cattle generally browsed. 
 Then, together, they studied the map so made, 
 and Gavan pointed out that, owing to the lay of 
 the mountains and valleys, the lines of travel 
 that the outlaw lobo would have to follow must 
 be along natural lines. 
 
 "A wolf," he justly said, "isn't going to run 
 up one side of a hill and run down the other side 
 of it, when he can keep on the level by going a 
 little round. I wouldn 't wonder if we found that 
 Three-legs had a pretty regular lane of travel." 
 
 "Maybe," agreed the stock-raiser, "but even 
 after you've narrowed down the field the way you 
 have, I reckon, putting all those lines o' travel 
 end to end, you've a thousand miles o' line." 
 
 "Sure," the boy agreed, "but that thousand 
 miles of line has some commanding points, and 
 some of them intersect. If I can find those trails, 
 and especially if I can find out where they inter- 
 sect, I might set traps there. ' ' 
 
 "What bait?" asked the cattleman, for he was 
 anxious to find out the boy's methods.
 
 378 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 ' ' None ! ' ' declared the boy. < ' What 's the use of 
 stale bait to a wolf who makes his dinner off fresh 
 mutton?" 
 
 "Give him mutton!" came the prompt reply. 
 1 'I'll let you have all the sheep you want." 
 
 4 'No good at all," responded Gavan. "Sheep 
 don't hang around alone. If I should stake a 
 lamb near the trap, Three-legs would make a wide 
 circle around that lamb, put his head on one side 
 and say to himself : 
 
 " 'I never saw a little lamb, which had lost its 
 mother, that didn't run around and look for her. 
 This lamb doesn't run around. Something queer 
 about that lamb! This is no place for me!' 
 
 "And not only wouldn't Mr. Three-legs tackle 
 that lamb, but he would change his trail so as to 
 avoid the place where something queer had hap- 
 pened once. So, instead of gaining anything, 
 we'd only lose the one piece of information that 
 we had found out, namely, where his trail was." 
 
 "How about scent bait?" asked the cattleman. 
 
 "That might work with a young wolf," the boy 
 answered, "but it doesn't do much good with an 
 old one. A young wolf is interested in girl 
 wolves, and he likes to know when they are around 
 and where they've gone. He wants to have the
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 379 
 
 gossip of the neighborhood, too, like a coyote, 
 and you can sometimes catch him on the smell tele- 
 phone. But with an old outlaw wolf, I'm not sure 
 that it would do. Even if the scent bait were so 
 cleverly handled that Mr. Three-legs was fooled 
 into believing the intruder another wolf, he might 
 keep away because he 's crippled, or he might gen- 
 erally be a grouchy chap and decide to go where 
 he wouldn't be interfered with.*' 
 
 "Now you're talkin' of Three-legs just as if 
 he were a man, an' thinkin' in a man's way," 
 retorted the stock-raiser. 
 
 "Mr. "Winon told me," answered Gavan, quot- 
 ing his constant authority, "that you've got to as- 
 sume to a gray wolf as much woods-brain as you 
 have. Quick Feather told me, that a wolf has 
 got a lot more wolf-brain than a man has. So 
 I'm trying to figure it out with both kinds of 
 brain." 
 
 "You'll need 'em both for Three-legs," the 
 cattleman answered. 
 
 With his map corrected and made out, and his 
 trail locations clearly in his head, Gavan went 
 back for a continued study of the mountains. He 
 took no traps, at first, nothing but his canvas sheet, 
 and if ever he left his pony's back to examine the
 
 380 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 ground, he did so from the canvas. He ate his 
 lunch in the saddle, never making fire, and was 
 careful not to allow a piece of paper to fly away 
 nor a particle of cooked food to fall. The crumbs, 
 fish-bones, and suchlike he wrapped up and put in 
 his pocket, not throwing them away until he was 
 near his camp. 
 
 "I don't intend to give Mr. Three-legs any 
 warning," he said to himself. 
 
 At last, by a careful study of all the possible 
 passages in and through the mountains, Gavan 
 decided upon four trails, each of these evidently 
 used by a wolf, probably the outlaw, and little, 
 if ever, used by cattle. 
 
 Along these trails Gavan decided to make his 
 blind sets. 
 
 Now, if ever, the minutest care was needed ! 
 
 His traps had been buried in the earth, ever 
 since he had come to the Truchas Mountains, for 
 although many trappers declare that an animal 
 cannot smell iron, Gavan remembered that Mr. 
 Winon had said to him that it was impossible to be 
 too careful, and that a large part of the art of 
 trapping consisted in a most scrupulous attention 
 to detail. 
 
 "The difference between trapping the way the
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 381 
 
 Biological Survey wants it done," the expert had 
 once said, "and the way that old-time trappers 
 used to do it, doesn't lie in the kind of traps, nor 
 in the cleverness of the trappers. It's the dif- 
 ference between a work of art and a clumsy job. 
 Good modern trapping consists in knowing just 
 exactly what ought to be done, and doing it with 
 the same care and patience, every time." 
 
 Gavan had no intention of putting Three-legs 
 on his guard by any little slip-up. One trap set 
 too near the surface, so that a strong wind might 
 blow off the earth and expose it, one trap with 
 the pan set too lightly, so that a coyote or a rabbit 
 might spring it ; one trap in a cattle track where it 
 might be set off by a blundering steer; one trap 
 in a grass set, disturbing sod so that a wolf might 
 be suspicious and worry round till he found the 
 chain or the trap ; one careless piece of forgetful- 
 ness that might leave a human smell; any one 
 thing might spoil all his work, for Three-legs 
 would discover that an enemy was on his track, 
 and he would not only be warier than ever, but 
 probably would move, unknown, to another section 
 of the mountains. 
 
 With plenty of time at his disposal, the boy only 
 set four traps a day. Each trap was sunk just
 
 382 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 the right distance below the ground, each had its 
 springs turned slightly so as to give the greater 
 snugness to the jaws, each had upon the pan a 
 weather-beaten piece of old cloth that had lain 
 out in all weathers and had no smell. Before 
 he left each set, Gavan spent a good five minutes 
 examining it to see whether the most scrupulous 
 inspection could discover any trace of the work. 
 
 In five days, he had twenty traps down, all in 
 blind sets. Nowhere was there meat or scent to 
 attract the animal. Nowhere, did he move a stick 
 or stone in such a way that a wolf would have 
 to put his foot in the trap. That was often a good 
 plan, Gavan knew, but he would take no chances 
 with Three-legs. 
 
 These twenty traps covered a ride of over thirty 
 miles, the utmost limit that the boy could ride 
 on each alternate day. Moreover, he had placed 
 each set in such a place that it could be seen from 
 far away, and thus it was not necessary for him 
 to ride close to the traps to see if they had been 
 sprung. He re-shod his horse for he had taken 
 the shoes off when making his reconnaissances of 
 the country, lest the smell of the steel should sug- 
 gest something to Three-legs and, with a field-
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 383 
 
 glass, made his rounds daily, never going near 
 the wolf -trails which he had discovered. 
 
 Day after day passed fruitlessly. The boy was 
 successful, in that no animal touched or sprang 
 his traps, but there was never the sight of a giant 
 wolf struggling in them. 
 
 On the ninth day, returning to camp, Gavan 
 reached one of his usual lookouts and reached for 
 his field-glass. 
 
 His hand stopped midway. 
 
 Something was moving down there on the trail 
 beside the fallen rock ! 
 
 His hands shaking with excitement, Gavan 
 raised and leveled his field-glasses. 
 
 A wolf ! Surely a wolf. 
 
 A moment later 
 
 11 Caught!" he cried, and shouted with delight. 
 
 Then, almost forgetting prudence in his eager- 
 ness, for he feared every minute that the wolf 
 might break away though it was a No. 4 1 / trap 
 with a jaw-spread of eight inches Gavan set his 
 pony down the steep mountain-side. 
 
 As long as the wolf was in sight, he was con- 
 tent, though his heart was beating fast ; but when 
 the foliage hid the point in the trail, he could
 
 384 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 scarcely keep from using the spurs, his fears of 
 the outlaw's escape grew to such a height. 
 
 At last, at long last, the slope was descended, 
 and Gavan struck across the short flat at a full 
 gallop, his rifle in his hand, ready to jump off and 
 shoot, if necessary. 
 
 But the trap held. 
 
 This was no coyote to slink to the farthest end 
 of the chain on the approach of an enemy! 
 
 The big gray wolf growled, and advanced as 
 far as the chain would allow, showing his teeth 
 savagely. 
 
 Gavan, on foot, his rifle ready, came forward 
 slowly, admiringly. 
 
 Whether Three-legs or no, this was a veritable 
 timber-wolf! This was the gray scourge! 
 
 Well could the boy realize that even a full- 
 grown horse or steer might suffer from the fangs 
 of such a brute, standing 5 feet 3 inches from 
 root (not tip) of tail to the extremity of the nose, 
 29y 2 inches high to the top of the shoulders, with 
 a girth about the body of 34 inches. Its weight 
 was over a hundred pounds. 1 
 
 i Accurate measurements of timber wolves vary widely. This 
 specimen was measured by the author in Calgary, Canada. These 
 figures would be a little large for a wolf caught as far south as 
 New Mexico.
 
 Courtesy nf" Outing" Magazine. 
 
 TIMBER WOLF CAUGHT IN TRAP. 
 
 Though rarer than coyotes, gray wolves are numerous throughout the 
 United States, especially in the west and north. 
 
 Courtesy of U. S. Forest Service. 
 
 WHERE THE MARE MUST WATCH HER COLT EVERY MINUTE. 
 The favorite food of the gray wolf is horseflesh, and small hunting-packs 
 cause great losses to bands of horses on the open range. A 
 straggling foal is sure to be picked up, and oven full- 
 grown animals are not immune from night attacks.
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 385 
 
 The boy came closer and saw that the left fore- 
 foot it was the right fore-foot which was held 
 in the trap had once before been pinched, and 
 though, evidently, the leg was as serviceable as 
 ever, the toes were bunched and deformed. 
 
 This was Three-legs, without a doubt. 
 
 A desire, so violent as almost to be reckless, 
 took the boy, to bring the gray wolf back alive, 
 as he had done the wolverine, but better sense 
 prevailed. Choking back a lump in his throat 
 for it seemed like murder to kill an animal in a 
 trap Gavan set his rifle to his shoulder, took 
 careful aim, and fired. 
 
 Three-legs fell as a stone falls from a cliff. 
 
 Gavan waited a few minutes before advancing. 
 Such a foe was not to be approached temerari- 
 ously. 
 
 He took out his skinning-knife, and then halted. 
 
 Why not take the animal back whole, where it 
 could be weighed? 
 
 He went over to his pony, and led the animal 
 to a tree, near to the dead wolf, the horse whinny- 
 ing and trembling with fear, and ever and anon 
 trying to jerk away from his master. But Gavan 
 was expecting this, and held firm. He tied the 
 horse to the tree by the halter, and to make
 
 386 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 doubly sure, made a second fastening with his 
 lariat. Then he put the hobbles on, in case a 
 furious jerk should break the halter itself. 
 
 By now the wolf was surely dead, but Gavan 
 did not release the foot from the trap. No, he 
 wanted to show the wolf, with the trap still on 
 his foot. Using his small ax, he dug up the 
 stake. 
 
 But how to get the beast on the horse I A hun- 
 dred-pound lift was more than the boy could man- 
 age. At last he bethought him of a plan. Cutting 
 down two trees, he made a sort of horse-stall, 
 under a good-sized tree. Then he fastened the 
 lariat to the wolf, untied the pony, and made the 
 latter pull the dead wolf near to this tree. He 
 then retied the horse, as firmly as before, in the 
 impromptu stall, and again hobbled him. 
 
 Then, taking the lariat, he threw one end of it 
 over a branch, and cutting a forked and pointed 
 stick about eight feet high, he stuck this into the 
 root of the tree and under the armpit of the wolf, 
 and commenced to pull. The body of the wolf rose 
 upright on the forked stick, until the latter was 
 straight, and then, with one more pull, the forked 
 stick fell forward, landing the body of the wolf
 
 THE THREE-LEGGED OUTLAW 387 
 
 fairly across the haunches of the horse, right be- 
 hind the saddle. 
 
 Followed then as pretty an exhibition of kicking 
 as Gavan had ever seen, but, before the pony had 
 succeeded in freeing himself from the wolf, Gavan 
 had snatched a couple of turns of the lariat around 
 the body of the wolf. The pony, usually a quiet 
 and much ridden beast, soon quieted down, though 
 still trembling violently. 
 
 Gavan fastened the body of Three Legs so that 
 an outlaw bronc could not have freed himself from 
 the burden, and then leaped into the saddle, break- 
 ing out in joyous yells every once in a while. 
 
 At the ranch-house he met the cattleman, who 
 could barely contain himself, when he saw Gavan 
 come up at a full gallop with the body of the giant 
 wolf slung across the pony's back. 
 
 "Who do you suppose is here?" he said at last, 
 when the whole story had been told to him in 
 detail. 
 
 "Mr. Winon?" queried the boy, hopefully. 
 
 The stock-raiser nodded. 
 
 "Don't say anything to him!" said the boy. 
 "Can't I go right in!" 
 
 The cattleman grinned, helped the boy unfasten
 
 388 WITH THE U. S. TRAPPERS 
 
 the body of the wolf and carried it with him to the 
 threshold of the ranch-house. 
 
 Then Gavan burst open the door and plunged in, 
 dragging after him, with many a grunt, the body 
 of the wolf. 
 
 "Do I get a job?" he burst out. 
 
 The Biological Survey expert started at the cry, 
 and, turning around, saw the flushed face of the 
 boy and the figure of the giant wolf on the floor. 
 
 "Is it 'Three-Legs of the TruchasT " he asked. 
 
 "Yes," answered 'the cattleman from behind. 
 "It's Three-Legs right enough!" 
 
 "You bet you get the job," came the answer. 
 "Consider yourself a U. S. Government Trapper 
 from this day on !" 
 
 THE END
 
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