American 7. ; r s : The Book of the | Boone and Crockett Club ALG Ne 1 Mae, Ps Liha eh is yt RSE ae : ln eee ie ‘ ye me entre t* > = 4 — “QUIZEBEYAT SAOUGIIDG Wo1y "19]v AA 0} SuIOH AE ee GTO op Bonar ae top pragen EES ES GEST BP SR ~ Distigcs. & ieesidemebiig Oe wc VOD ee sapticg od eigenen : a RE RI Nee ¥ Fos Mie! * * 3 2 é pe i aa en = : Sas “; 3 ti * — 2 : 3 . i Osae American Big-Game Hunting Che Book of the Woone and Crockett Ciub EDITORS THEODORE , ROOSEVELT GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL NEW-YORK FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING CO. 1893 Copyright, 1893, by the Forest and Stream Publishing Co. THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW-YORK. Contents The Boone and Crockett Club The Editors. A. Buffalo Story George S. Anderson. The White Goat and his Country . Owen Wister. A Day with the Elk Winthrop Chanler. Old Times in the Black Hills . Roger D. Williams. Big Game in the Rockies . Archibald Rogers. Coursing the Prongbuck Theodore Roosevelt. After Wapiti in Wyoming Ea Gr Gracker. In Buffalo Days George Bird Grinnell. Nights with the Grizzlies . W. D. Pickett. 5 Page American Big-Game Hunting The Yellowstone Park as a Game Reservation Arnold Hague. A Mountain Fraud Dean Sage. Blacktails in the Bad Lands Bronson Rumsey. Photographing Wild Game . W. B. Devereux. Literature of American Big-Game Hunting Our Forest Reservations eae The Club Exhibit at the World’s Fair ) ante Constitution and By-Laws of the Club List of Members Page 240 271 287 299 39 326 334 337 340 The sketches entitled Big Game in the Rockies, and In Buffalo Days, have already appeared in Scribner’s Magazine, and are here reprinted by kind permission of Charles Scrib- ner’s Sons. Nights with the Grizzlies has appeared in the Forest and Stream, and is reprinted by permission of the Forest and Stream Publishing Co. 4 List of Illustrations Going to Water”.°*. ... Frontispiece : agen : From Scribner’s Magazine. Facing page Mie Waster vorsthey tlerdye.): 406) 1.40% 19 From Scribner’s Magazine. On? the Slide “Rock ) 7:40 i From Scribner Big Game in the Rockies for such I afterward judged him to be, who, with great affection, had gone down with her until she stuck her head in the snow. Not understanding this, he smelled around his fallen relative, when a hollow three-hundred-and- thirty-grain chunk of lead nearly severed one hip and smashed the other. He did not stop to reason, but promptly jumped on his relative, and then and there occurred a lively bit of a scrimmage. Over and over they rolled, slap- ping, biting, and making the best fight of it they could, considering the plight they were in. Each probably accused the other of the mishap. The snow was dyed a crimson hue. It was like the scene of a bloody battle-ground. At last the lady first aggrieved gave up, and plunged her head back into the snow, while her brother, not having any one to fight with, went off a short distance and lay down. We cautiously approached, bearing in mind that a snow-drift is a hard thing for pedestrians in a hurry to travel on, and when we got about ten feet from the first bear, I told my companion to snowball her and see what effect that would have, for she looked too innocent to be finished for and dead. 8* TG American Big-Game Hunting But instead of doing so, he discarded his rifle and reached for her tail. Ah, I thought so! for, as he gave a yank, up came her head, her jaws flew open like clockwork, and a snort came forth. But right between the eyes went the deadly messenger, smashing her skull and ending any prolonged suffering for any of us. Her end accomplished, we turned to the other partner. He had been taking it all in, and was ready for a fight. He seemed pretty fit, too. Fortunately, he could not come up to us; the snow-drift was too steep, and he had only two serviceable legs to travel with. Still he had true grit, and faced us; but it was an unequal battle. Again the bullet reached its victim, and brother ba’r lay quietly on his back with his legs in the air. No need to trifle with this bear’s tail, as any fool could see that he was dead. However, we pelted him with a lot of snowballs, and then Woody went around to his stump of a tail and pulled it while I stood guard at his head. We took off our coats, and soon had the skins off the pair of them. These skins proved to be in the finest condition, though the bears themselves were poor. I 118 Big Game in the Rockies should judge one was a three-year-old and the other a two-year-old. Still they were good-sized grizzlies. Those skins seemed to grow in size and weight as each of us lugged one up the side of the mountain over shelving rock, snow, and loose gravel to where we left our horses. Of course they were not there, and we had to go on, carrying the skins, which were growing heavier and heavier every minute, until we tracked our horses to where they were feed- ing, and, in Western vernacular, ‘“‘“we had a circus” packing those skins on my horse. It was done at last, though, and to stay, by means of blindfolding him with a coat; and after a little while he settled down to work as though he had carried bears all his many years of service. I had a very nasty time in getting down the mountain after my horse slipped and fell down a gap in the crown rock. We could not get the other down, so [| took charge of my horse and skins and made the rest of the descent in safety, though it looked squally for a bit when the old rascal’s feet slid out from under him, knocking me down in the snow, and he on top, and I could feel that 18 ge) American Big-Game Hunting even with the fleecy covering the rocks were still very hard. However, it was deep enough for me to crawl out, more scared than hurt, and soon we had sage-brush and grass under our feet, with an easy trail to camp, where a square meal inside of a stomach that sorely needed it soon made amends for all hardships. Won- dering what those bears had been at work at, I went back the next day and found that they had been tearing up a sheep that had died of scab, a disease that wild sheep are subject to. To a thorough sportsman, killing bear after a successful stalk is by long odds the best and most exciting method, but the country must be such as permits of this,—as, for instance, when there are long stretches of high moun- tains, plateaus or ridges above, or devoid of, timber, where the bears resort to root, and where the hunter from some elevated post can look over a large area with the aid of glasses. The general procedure, though, is to put out bait—that is, to have the carcass of some ani- mal to attract the bear, and many a noble elk or timorous deer has been thus sacrificed. To avoid this needless destruction it has been 120 Big Game in the Rockies my custom to take along on my hunting-trips aged and worn-out horses, which answer ad- mirably when it comes to drawing bears to a carcass. Of course, this is not always a sure way, for the bear, if alarmed or disturbed, will only visit the carcass at night, and then, if the hunter is persistent and determined to get a shot, he may expect many weary hours of watching from a friendly pine. I think I hear the reader say, ‘“‘ What’s the fun in shooting a bear from a tree ?— there is no risk in that.” True, there is not; but it is when you come down from your perch that you may not feel quite so safe, as with limbs benumbed from cold and lack of circulation you climb down, knowing that perhaps sev- eral pairs of watchful eyes or cunning nostrils are studying your movements. Involuntarily your thoughts travel in the vein of your gloomy surroundings as you go stumbling on your way to camp: what if the bear should prefer live goose-flesh to dead horse? One spring morning I was knocking around under the base of the mountains and found myself, about dinner-time, so close to Colonel Pickett’s cozy log-cabin that I determined to 121 American Big-Game Hunting pay him a long-postponed visit. After an ample repast, including some delicious home- made butter, which I had not tasted for a month, Woody and I, with our little pack- train, regretfully filed off, and, fording the river, took up our wanderings, not expecting to see our cheery host again for a year. We had not proceeded far, though, when we met an excited ‘“cow-puncher,” who evi- dently had news to tell. He had been up on the side of the mountain, which was here a long grassy slope as smooth as any of our well-tended lawns, extending upward to where it joined the dense pine-forest which covered the upper portion of the mountain. Our friend was the horse-wrangler for a neigh- boring ranch, and was out looking for horses. Did any one ever see a horse-wrangler who was not looking for missing stock ? When skirting the timber he surprised, or was surprised by, a good-sized grizzly, which promptly chased him downward and home- ward, and evidently for a short distance was well up in the race. Gathering from his de- scription that the bear had been at work on the carcass of a steer that had died from eat- 122 Big Game in the Rockies ing poison-weed, I determined to go back and camp, and see if another skin could not be added to the score. It did not take long to pick out an ideal camping-spot, well shel- tered, with plenty of dry wood, and trout from the little stream almost jumping into the frying-pan. Our horses had been having pretty rough times lately, and they lost no time in storing away as much of the rich grass as they could hold. They had plenty of society, too, for the slope was dotted here and there with bunches of range cattle and bands of horses, not to mention the recent additions to the families of each in the shape of frolicsome calves and frisky foals, all busily at work. Bruin seemed rather out of place in such a pastoral scene, and yet, as one looked higher beyond the somber heights of the forest toward the frowning crown rock that re- sembled some mighty fortress forbidding fur- ther progress, or the everlasting snow-peaks above, one could well fancy that wild animals must be up there somewhere, either in the dense woods or in the still higher and safer retreats. 123 American Big-Game Hunting We at once examined the ground, and found the carcasses of two steers, one of which was untouched, but the other was very nearly devoured. All the signs pointed to more than one bear, and the ground was fairly padded down round the carcass they were using. Unfortunately, though, there seemed to be no place to watch from,—not a bush or rock to screen one while awaiting a shot. To cut a long story short, I watched that bait every afternoon and evening for a week, and though it was visited every night - I never got a sight of the prowlers. Bears will very often, when going to a carcass, take the same trail, but when leaving, wander off in almost any direction. Taking advantage of this, and being satisfied that they were up in the timber through the day, we hunted for their trail, and found it on an old wood-road that led through the timber. To make sure, we placed the hind quarters of one of the steers just on the edge of the forest, and awaited developments. That night the bears found it, and, dragging it off, carefully cached it; so we determined to watch here. As the daylight faded that night I was 124 Big Game in the Rockies much disappointed to find that if I was to get a shot it would have to be in the dark; so as soon as I found I could not see to shoot with any degree of safety, I got up in a pine-tree that commanded the road and was just over the bait. It was weary work watching, and to make it still more uncomfortable, a heavy thunder-storm swept by, first pelting one with hail, then with a deluge of rain and snow. It was pitch-dark, except when the black recesses of the forest seemed to be rent asun- der during the vivid lightning. The whole effect was weird and uncanny, and I wished myself back under my soft, warm blankets. I could not well repress thinking of the early admonition of “Never go under a tree during a thunder-storm.”’—But what ’s that? One swift surge of blood to the heart, an involun- tary tightening of the muscles that strongly arippedi the ite: ) L.seemed: to. feel, rather than see, the presence of three strange ob- jects that appeared to have sprung from the ground under me. I had not heard a sound; not a twig had snapped, and yet, as I strained my eyes to penetrate the gloom, there, right at my feet, 125 American Big-Game Hunting almost touching them in fact, I made out the indistinct forms of three bears all standing on their hind legs. Oh, what a chance it was if it had not been so dark! I could not even see the end of my rifle; but I knew I could hit them, they were so close. But to hit fatally? Well, there is no use thinking about it now the bears are here. Trust to luck and shoot ! Hardly daring’ (to (breathe, 1 fired; ihe scuffing on the ground, and the short, sharp snorting, told me I had not missed; but I could see nothing, and could only hear the bear rolling over and over and growling angrily. Presently there was quiet, and then with angry, furious champing of jaws the wounded animal charged back directly under me; but I could not see to shoot again, worse luck. From sundry sounds I gathered the bear was not far off, but had lain down ina thicket which was about one hundred yards from my tree. I could hear an occasional growl, and the snap of dead branches, broken as she turned uneasily. I did not know exactly what to do. To descend was awk- ward, and to stay where I was, wet and 126 Big Game in the Rockies chilled to the bone, seemed impossible. It was most unlikely the other bears would come back; however, thinking it would be prudent to stay aloft a little while longer, I made up my mind to stick it out another half hour. During this wait I fancied I could see shad- owy forms moving about, and I could surely hear a cub squalling. The light was now a little better, and the darkness, though still very black, was not so intense. Just as I had screwed up courage to de- scend, another bear came up under the tree and reared up. This time I made no mistake, and almost simultaneously with the rifle’s re- port a hoarse bawl proved to me that I had conquered. Glad at almost any cost to get out of my cramped position I sung out to Woody to lend a hand, as I proposed de- scending, and as he came up I came down, and then we discussed the situation. The ‘proximity of the wounded bear was not pleas- ant, but then the dead one must be opened in order to save the skin. But what if the latter were not dead? Hang this night-work! why can’t the bears stick to daylight! But to work,—there was the motionless form to be 127 American Big-Game Hunting operated on. Inch by inch we crept up with our rifles at full-cock stuck out ahead of us until they gently touched the inanimate mass. It was all right, for the bear was stone-dead. Hastily feeling in the dark, as neatly as pos- sible the necessary operations were nearly concluded when simultaneously we both dropped our knives and made for the open. . .. It makes me perspire even now when I think of that midnight stampede from an enraged and wounded grizzly. Archibald Rogers. Coursing the Prongbuck The prongbuck is the most characteristic and distinctive of American game animals. Zoologically speaking, its position is unique. It is the only hollow-horned ruminant which sheds its horns. We speak of it as an ante- lope, and it does of course represent on our prairies the antelopes of the Old World, and is a distant relative of theirs; but it stands apart from all other horned animals. Its position in the natural world is almost as lonely as that of the giraffe. The chase of the prongbuck has always been to me very attractive, but especially so when carried on by coursing it with greyhounds. Any man who has lived much in the cow- country, and has wandered about a good deal over the great plains, is of course familiar with this gallant little beast, and has probably had to rely upon it very frequently for a sup- ply of fresh meat. On my ranch it has always been the animal which yielded us most of the 9 129 American Big-Game Hunting fresh meat we had in the spring and summer. Of course at such times we killed only bucks, and even these only when we positively needed the flesh. In all its ways and habits the prongbuck differs as much from deer and elk as from goat and sheep. Now that the buffalo has gone, it is the only game really at home on the wide plains. It is a striking-looking little creature, with its big bulging eyes, single- pronged horns, and the sharply contrasted coloration of its coat; this coat, by the way, being composed of curiously coarse and brittle hair. In marked contrast to deer, antelope never seek to elude observation; all they care) tor (1s to ibe wable: to “see ‘themselves: As they have good noses and wonderful eyes, and as they live by preference where there is little or no cover, shots at them are usually obtained only at far longer range than is the case with other game; and yet, as they are easily seen, and often stand look- ing at the hunter just barely within very long rifle-range, they are always tempting their pursuer to the expenditure of cartridges. More shots are wasted at antelope than at 130 Coursing the Prongbuck any other game. They would be even harder to secure were it not that they are subject to fits of panic, folly, or excessive curiosity, which occasionally put them fairly at the mercy of the rifle-bearing hunter. Prongbucks are very fast runners indeed, even faster than deer. They vary greatly in speed, however, precisely as is the case with deer; in fact, I think that the average hunter makes altogether too little account of this individual variation among different animals of the same kind. Under the same conditions different deer and antelope vary in speed and wariness, exactly as bears and cougars vary in cunning and ferocity. When in perfect condition a full-grown buck ante- lope, from its strength and size, is faster and more enduring than an old doe; but a fat buck, before the rut has begun, will often be pulled down by a couple of good greyhounds much more speedily than a flying yearling or two-year-old doe. Under favorable cir- cumstances, when the antelope was jumped near by, I have seen one overhauled and seized by a single first-class greyhound; and, on the other hand, I have more than once 131 American Big-Game Hunting seen a pronghorn run away from a whole pack of just as good dogs. With a fair start, and on good ground, a thoroughbred horse, even though handicapped by the weight of a rider, will run down an ante- lope; but this is a feat which should rarely be attempted, because such a race, even when carried to a successful issue, is productive of the utmost distress to the steed. Ordinary horses will sometimes run down an antelope which is slower than the average. I had on my ranch an under-sized old Indian pony named White Eye, which, when it was fairly roused, showed a remarkable turn of speed, and had great endurance. One morn- ing on the round-up, when for some reason we did not work the cattle, I actually ran down an antelope in fair chase on this old pony. It was a nursing doe, and I came over the crest of a hill, between forty and fifty yards away from it. As it wheeled to start back, the; old)cayuse pricked up his ears with great interest, and the minute I gave him a sign was after it like a shot. Whether, being a cow-pony, he started to run it just as if it were a calf or a yearling 132 Coursing the Prongbuck trying to break out of the herd, or whether he was overcome by dim reminiscences of buffalo-hunting in his Indian youth, I know not. At any rate, after the doe he went, and in a minute or two I found I was drawing up to it. I had a revolver, but of course did not wish to kill her, and so got my rope ready to try to take her alive. She ran frantically, but the old pony, bending level to the ground, kept up his racing lope and closed right in beside her. As I came up she fairly bleated. An expert with the rope would have captured her with the utmost ease; but I missed, sending the coil across her shoul- ders. She again gave an agonized bleat, or bark, and wheeled around like a shot. The cow-pony stopped almost, but not quite, as fast, and she got a slight start, and it was some little time before I overhauled her again. When I did I repeated the perform- ance, and this time when she wheeled she succeeded in getting on some ground where I could not follow, and I was thrown out. I have done a good deal of coursing with greyhounds at one time or another, but al- ways with scratch packs. The average fron- * 133 American Big-Game Hunting tiersman seems to have an inveterate and rooted objection to a dog with pure blood. If he gets a greyhound, his first thought is to cross it with something else, whether a bull mastiff, or a setter, or a foxhound. There are a few men who keep leashes of grey- hounds of pure blood, bred and trained to antelope-coursing, and who do their coursing scientifically, carrying the dogs out to the hunting-grounds in wagons and exercising every care in the sport; but these men are rare. The average man who dwells where antelope are sufficiently abundant to make coursing a success, simply follows the pur- suit at odd moments, with whatever long- legged dogs he and his neighbors happen to have; and his methods of coursing are apt to be as rough as his outfit. My own coursing has been precisely of this character. At dif- ferent times I have had on my ranch one or two high-class greyhounds and Scotch deer- hounds, with which we have coursed deer and antelope, as well as jack-rabbits, foxes, and coyotes; and we have usually had with them one or two ordinary hounds, and various half-bred dogs. I must add, however, that ; 134 Coursing the Prongbuck some of the latter were very good. I can re- call in particular one fawn-colored beast, a cross between a greyhound and a foxhound, which ran nearly as fast as the former, though it occasionally yelped in shrill tones. It could also trail well, and was thoroughly game; on one occasion it ran down and killed a coyote single-handed. On going out with these dogs, I rarely chose a day when I was actually in need of fresh meat. If this was the case, I usually went alone with the rifle; but if one or two other men were at the ranch, and we wanted a morning’s fun, we would often summon the dogs, mount our horses, and go trooping out to the antelope-ground. As there was a good deer-country between the ranch bot- tom and the plains where we found the prongbuck, it not infrequently happened that we had a chase after blacktail or whitetail on the way. Moreover, when we got out to the ground, before sighting antelope, it frequently happened that the dogs would jump a jack- rabbit or a fox, and away the whole set would go after it, streaking through the short grass, sometimes catching their prey 135 American Big-Game Hunting in a few hundred yards, and sometimes hav- ing to run a mile or so. In consequence, by the time we reached the regular hunting- ground, the dogs were apt to have lost a good deal of their freshness. We would get them in behind the horses and creep cau- tiously along, trying to find some solitary prongbuck in a suitable place, where we could bring up the dogs from behind a hillock, and give them a fair start after it. Usually we failed to get the dogs near enough for a good start; and in most cases their chases after unwounded prongbuck re- sulted in the quarry running clean away from them. Thus the odds were greatly against them; but, on the other hand, we helped them wherever possible with the rifle. We often rode well scattered out, and if one of us put up an antelope, or had a chance at one when driven by the dogs, he would al- ways fire, and the pack were saved from the ill effects of total discouragement by so often getting these wounded beasts. It was aston- ishing to see how fast an antelope with a broken leg could run. If such a beast had a good start, and especially if the dogs were 136 Coursing the Prongbuck tired, it would often lead them a hard chase, and the dogs would be utterly exhausted after it had been killed; so that we would have to let them lie where they were for a long time before trying to lead them down to some stream-bed. If possible, we carried water for them in canteens. There were red-letter days, however, in which our dogs fairly ran down and killed antelope,—days when the weather was cool, and when it happened that we got our dogs out to the ground without their being tired by previous runs, and found our quarry soon, and in favorable places for slipping the hounds. I remember one such chase in par- ticular. We had at the time a mixed pack, in which there was only one dog of my own, the others being contributed from various sources. It included two greyhounds, a rough-coated deerhound, a foxhound, and the fawn-colored crossbred mentioned above. We rode out in the early morning, the dogs trotting behind us; and, coming to a low tract of rolling hills, just at the edge of the great prairie, we separated and rode over the crest of the nearest ridge. Just as we 137 American Big-Game Hunting topped it, a fine buck leaped up from a hol- low a hundred yards off, and turned to look at us fora moment. All the dogs were in- stantly spinning toward him down the grassy slope. He apparently saw those at the right, and, turning, raced away from us in a diag- onal line, so that the left-hand greyhound, which ran cunningly and tried to cut him off, was very soon almost alongside. He saw her, however,—she was a very fast bitch,— just in time, and, wheeling, altered his eourse to the right, As he reached the edge of the prairie, this alteration nearly brought him in contact with the crossbred, which had obtained a rather poor start, on the ex- treme right of the line. Around went the buck again, evidently panic-struck and puz- zled to the last degree, and started straight off across the prairie, the dogs literally at his heels, and we, urging our horses with whip and spur, but a couple of hundred yards be- hind. For half a mile the pace was tremen- dous, when one of the greyhounds made a spring at his ear, but, failing to make good his hold, was thrown off. However, it halted the buck for a moment, and made him turn 138 Coursing the Prongbuck quarter round, and in a second the deer- hound had seized him by the flank and thrown him, and all the dogs piled on top, never allowing him to rise. Later in the day we again put up a buck not far off. At first it went slowly, and the dogs hauled up on it; but when they got pretty close, it seemed to see them, and let- ting itself out, went clean away from them almost without effort. Once or twice we came upon bands of antelope, and the hounds would immediately take after them. I was always rather sorry for this, however, because the frightened animals, as is generally the case when beasts are in a herd, seemed to impede one another, and the chase usually ended by the dogs seizing a doe, for it was of course impos- sible to direct them to any particular beast. It will be seen that with us coursing was a homely sport. Nevertheless we had very good fun, and I shall always have enjoyable memories of the rapid gallops across the prairie, on the trail of a flying prongbuck. Theodore Roosevelt. 139 After Wapiti in Wyoming I went into camp, one night in September, on one of the many branches of the upper Snake River, in northwestern Wyoming. It was after a most severe and perplexing day’s pack,—one of those days in which “things” go wrong. The packs turned, the cinches refused to hold, and the fresh little Indian pony —for which we had traded a sore-backed packhorse, one cup of sugar, and a half-dozen cartridges, three days previous, with some Bannack Indians who came to my camp-fire on the Snake River—fancied she could put everybody in good temper by having a buck- ing fit. She had managed to settle one side of her pack on a sharp stub when she came down from a flight, and to punch a fair-sized hole in the canvas cover, which immediately began to flow granulated sugar; but by good luck we managed to catch her lariat and re- arrange her pack, minus about one half our supply of sweets. The day was finished with 140 After Wapiti in Wyoming eight horses thoroughly tired, and three men in a condition which admitted of only the fewest words with the longest possible inter- vals between. Gloom overhung the outfit. These feelings disappeared as soon as we had finished our supper, and we had just lighted our pipes when, close by our camp- fire, we heard clearly the call of a bull elk. Up to that time I had not had a shot at this, the grandest of all the deer family, and I was quickly on my feet, rifle in hand. Wading the brook, I stalked as hurriedly as I dared toward an opening some forty rods beyond. It was just the last glimmer of daylight, and I made time until I came to the bank, over which I could look into the open park where I felt the royal beast was. What a picture greeted my gaze! The park was perhaps four hundred yards across, and nearly oval in shape, and from the opposite side ran out, nearly to the middle, a plateau some thirty feet in height. On the point of this, standing as immovable as one of Barye’s bronzes, was a bull elk with antlers that would please the most fastidious sportsman in the world. Ina moment he elevated his head and gave a call 141 American Big-Game Hunting ending with those liquid flute-notes that make the blood run quickly in the most phlegmatic hunter’s veins. A quick glance showed me that I could not approach him any nearer, and putting up my sight, as I thought, high enough, I pressed the trigger, and saw the bullet strike just under his belly. He whirled and made for cover, and out of pure despera- tion I gave him another shot, without result. In a shorter time than I have spent in telling this, the twilight had entirely disappeared, and I wended my way back to camp with only the memory of what I had seen to repay me for the wetting which my hurried crossing of the brook had given me. For three days we had climbed mountains, wallowed through mud-holes, and tobogganed down clay banks, hunting for elk which the Indians had frightened away from the Snake River by their noisy mode of hunting. There were four lodges of Bannacks, and they had some eighty horses of various kinds and colors. They said they had spent six weeks there jerking elk-meat for their winter’s food. The country which we crossed during these three days was completely checkered with elk 142 After Wapiti in Wyoming trails, mud-wallows, slivered trees, and many other evidences that large bands of elk had occupied the country for months; and my packer insisted that we would surely find them if we continued hunting in the rough mountains which lay to the east. Early the next day, while at the brook mak- ing my morning toilet, 1 heard Stewart say to the cook that the horses had gone out of the country; and after two minutes of very vehement remarks, he informed me that five horses had taken the back trail, and that Worth must go with him to head them off. So, each taking a horse, they rode away, leav- ing me to keep camp with only old Scoop Shovel, a split-eared packhorse, for company. Always having loved nature, I concluded that a little prospecting on my own hook would be preferable to lounging about camp waiting for the return of the men and horses; so, saddling old Scoop Shovel, I forded the brook and, crossing the scene of my bad shooting the previous evening, climbed a small range of hills. On the op- posite side I found a good-sized stream, which I thought was the main Coulter Creek. 143 American Big-Game Hunting Following it up some two miles, I suddenly heard a bull elk call, and fastening my horse, : I crept toward the sound. Coming out of ~~ some thick woods, I saw across the stream a band of seven elk and three or four calves. They were feeding away from me, and I de- cided that if I crossed the stream and reached the top of a little hill before they could walk out of the woods and get into the middle of an open park, some half-mile across, I might be able to get a shot. The stream was quite rapid and fairly deep, and while I did not care for wet feet, |] hoped to escape a wet jacket. However, as I stepped boldly in, the current whirled me off my feet, and the water opened its gates and let me find a resting- place on the slippery, smooth stones of its bottom. On gaining the opposite bank, I broke into a run for my game. Ihave always been a fair sprinter, but before I had reached the hill, fifty or sixty rods away, I was completely pumped, and had to stop. Fortunately I was running toward game, rather than being chased by a grizzly, for I had shot my bolt. The high altitude had put me out of the race. 144 After Wapiti in Wyoming However, a rest for a few minutes got me in order, and slowly climbing the hill, I looked over and saw that the band, a hundred yards away, had stopped feeding, and with elevated heads were trying to catch the scent of pos- sible danger. I decided to chance a shot, and with lungs well filled covered the bull. At the report, I heard the shot strike, and with three leaps he came to his knees, but only quickly to regain his feet and trot away. I started on the run toward him, and he having then reached the brook, leaped for the opposite bank. Firing while he was in the air, I saw him fall on his head on landing, and hurried up just as he was having his last struggle. My first shot had been too far back ; the second went in at the flank, rang- ing forward and breaking his shoulder. His harem were somewhat dazed, and did not evince much fear, but stood crowded to- gether looking at me. I shouted at them, and as that did not frighten them away, waved my hat and walked toward the band; they only trotted a few yards and halted, facing me. I then fired a shot over their heads, and run- ning at full speed toward them, they broke “9 145 American Big-Game Hunting into a trot, crossed a small piece of thin tim- ber, slowed down to a walk, crossed the open park, and, occasionally stopping to look back, finally disappeared up the mountain-side. The bull was a magnificent specimen, with a head royal, twelve good points, and remark- ably even and symmetrical. I killed other bulls with more points, but none which was in all respects so perfect as this. The next night I camped within two hun- dred yards of this elk, and was awakened by hearing some large animal feeding on his carcass; but the night was dark, and as I was without any light but firebrands, I did not make the attempt to see if it was a grizzly — which the next day proved it to have been. I asked my packer if he wanted to go and inter- view the visitor; he said he had not lost any grizzlies, and we concluded that our blankets were more comfortable than the unknown quantity of a grizzly in the dark. The next day, on Pifion Mountain, hearing several bulls call from the same place, | stalked the band and counted thirty-odd head, with five bulls in sight, all within eighty yards. With my glass I counted the points 146 After Wapiti in Wyoming on each head, and selecting the finest, fired but one shot, and the bull did not go more than twenty feet before falling. I think, with my repeating-rifle, I could have killed three or four more, but I refrained from doing so; in fact, I did not kill a cow during the trip. The band did not go far; for, while skinning out this head, I could hear the bulls call within a few hundred yards down the mountain-side. I spent two days in the little park at the foot of Pinon Mountain, and saw and heard a great many elk, in bands of three to thirty, but refrained from shooting. Bear signs were fairly abundant; but I did not see a single live bear then. Later, I saw a fine one inside the Yellowstone Park line; and as I had promised Captain Harris I would not shoot inside the park, I told the bear to move on, which he did at a particularly slow pace. This was a black bear; possibly a grizzly would have been more neighborly. I enjoyed one triumph over my men, who, with the usual freedom of Westerners, had dubbed me ‘Pilgrim ’— Stewart, in particular, fancied a man from the East could not teach him anything regarding sport. One Sunday 147 American Big-Game Hunting morning he said he would go out and catch a string of trout, that we might have a change’ of ‘diet.(4/ He, spent an hour and a half at the brook, and returned with one small Rocky Mountain trout, about four inches in length, saying there were plenty of trout, but they were so wild he could not catch them. I had noticed, on crossing the brook, that the fish would run for a hiding- place, being easily frightened; so, after he had exhausted all his art, I said I would try them. With a fish-pole, a brown hackle, and a bit of elk-meat on the point of the hook, I crawled through the grass, and without showing myself, snapped my fly on to the water, felt a pull, and whisked out a trout. I continued my practice until I had all I wanted, and returned to camp, remarking to the cook as I threw them down: “Stewart don’t know anything about fish- ing; he ought to take some lessons. There are plenty of trout in the brook only waiting to be caught”; which piqued Stewart so much that he sulked for the balance of the day, highly displeased at being beaten by a ten- derfoot at the simple game of fishing. 148 After Wapiti in Wyoming Northwestern Wyoming is a magnificent country, and the weather equals the country. On our trip we had but two hours’ rain; at night the thermometer went below freezing, but during the middle of the day it ran as high as seventy. One of the curious facts is that the elk trails could not be better lo- cated by human mind or hand to overcome the difficulties of the broken country, and they are used almost entirely by hunters and pack-trains in passing from one point to another. The elk has an eye to the beau- tiful as well, for I often found well-beaten lookouts on the extreme edge of precipices, showing that they enjoy resting at these points to view the beautiful scenery. It was a veritable paradise for big game, and there must have been hundreds of elk within a few miles of my camp. There was some sign of moose, and the Bannack Indians told me that they had killed one with “heap big horns.” Much against my wishes we decided to break camp and move north, when from the Pinon Mountain we could see the higher peaks north of us covered with snow; for we feared that we might be caught by a Io* 149 American Big-Game Hunting heavy snowfall, and have trouble in getting out. My intention was to have gone south to Buffalo Fork, looking for bear, but this I was obliged to postpone to some future date; so we bade good-by to the charming little park where we were camped, and journeyed north, lowering our altitude many hun- dred feet as we dropped down on the head waters of the next creek. Its valley and the surrounding mountains were as well sup- plied with elk as the country from which we had just come. I saw bear signs quite fre- quently, and many of them fresh, but did not spend much time looking for the animal, as I found the usual and most successful way was to bait with an elk carcass and watch through the day, hoping that a bear would scent the bait and come to feed on the flesh. This is slow business, and I preferred more activity. One night I distinctly heard the cry of a mountain-lion, or panther, several times. Going up Snake River, I passed within the boundaries of the park, and camped one night close by a little pond just under Mount Sheri- dan, some two miles south of Heart Lake. As I was eating my supper, half an hour before 150 After Wapiti in Wyoming sunset, a fine band of elk came out on the mossy shores of the pond and frisked and played for some time. The old bull would hook and prod the cows, and occasionally call, getting answers from nearly every point of the compass. The next day we skirted Heart Lake on the westerly side as far as the inlet, then through and over the curious hot- spring formation for a couple of miles. Heart Lake is a charming sheet of water, nestling as it does among these heavily tim- bered mountains, and it is said to have an abundance of fine trout. While riding along the shore I often saw a good-sized fish shoot from the shallow out into deep water. There were a great many ducks and geese in and about the inlet, and one flock of geese offered a most tempting shot. My pack from Heart Lake to the Hot Springs on the shores of Yellowstone Lake was very tedious, as we found no drinking-water on the trail. The day was warm, and I looked forward to my arrival at Yellowstone Lake with anticipated pleasure in the drink of spring water which I was to have that night; but on arriving I found the spring dried up and nothing but lake I51 American Big-Game Hunting water to drink. That was warm, with a sul- phurous flavor, owing to the hot springs close by the shore and under the water as well, besides holding many wigglers. I strained a bottleful of water through some linen and hung it on the limb of a tree, waiting for it to cool, and looking at it with the hungry eye of a wolf watching meat hung out of reach. My Indian pony had a new experience the following morning. After starting our pack- train, we skirted the shores of Yellowstone Lake, and coming to a quick-running stream, which in its clearness looked very inviting, the Indian pony succeeded in loosing her trail-rope, and pushed her head nearly up to her eyes into this clear water. Withdrawing it quickly with a scream, she cut such capers that for a while our pack-train was more or less disarranged. The water had run only a short distance from a boiling spring, and the heat had taken off a good deal of the hair from her face. For twenty-four hours I could not induce her to drink. On the trail to the outlet of Yellowstone Lake, I saw several bands of elk, and rode within thirty yards of them. They did not 152 After Wapiti in Wyoming show signs of fear, but quietly walked off into the bushes, with the exception of one bull ac- companied by three cows. They were lying down, and when I came to them, the cows moved off; but the bull stood there, and for a few minutes | thought he was going to charge. He pawed the ground, shook his head, and kept alternately taking a few steps toward me, and then backing a little, ripping up the soil with his antlers, and breaking the small bushes, in token of challenge. I concluded to retreat rather than fight, so quietly with- drew, leaving him in possession of the field. While in camp one day, on Lizard Creek, I climbed Wild Cat Mountain, hunting up a trail that would lead to the eastward; and coming out on the southern point of the moun- tain, a magnificent view opened to my gaze. On the south, immediately at the foot of this mountain, was a park; it was dotted with clumps and groves of fine trees, through which ran a good-sized stream. The mea- dow ran a half-mile to the foot-hills, well covered with long grass, which in the sun- light, moving with a gentle breeze, rose and fell like the billows of the ocean. For miles 153 American Big-Game Hunting beyond were mountains piled on mountains; and I could see clearly the grand Teton range springing up from Jackson’s Lake: Mount Hayden, some fourteen thousand feet high, with Mount Moran just north of it,— Hayden rising majestically from the surface of the lake thousands of feet, with sharp slopes and walls of bare rock above, and its base buried in a darkness of pine and spruce. Their snow-covered summits and immense glaciers must impress any beholder with a strong sense of sublimity. It is said that on the summit of one of the Tetons there is an inclosure made of rocks several feet in height, built by what long-vanished and forgotten race of builders no man will ever know. EF. C. Crocker. 154 In Buffalo Days On the floor, on either side of my fireplace, lie two buffalo skulls. They are white and weathered, the horns cracked and bleached by the snows and frosts and the rains and heats of many winters and summers. Often, late at night, when the house is quiet, I sit before the fire, and muse and dream of the old days; and as I gaze at these relics of the past, they take life before my eyes. The matted brown hair again clothes the dry bone, and in the empty orbits the wild eyes gleam. Above me curves the blue arch; away on every hand stretches the yellow prairie, and scattered near and far are the dark forms of buffalo. They dot the rolling hills, quietly feeding like tame cattle, or lie at ease on the slopes, chewing the cud and half asleep. The yellow calves are close by their mothers; on little eminences the great bulls paw the dust, and mutter and moan, while those whose horns 155 American Big-Game Hunting have grown one, two, and three winters are mingled with their elders. Not less peaceful is the scene near some river-bank, when the herds come down to water. From the high prairie on every side they stream into the valley, stringing along in single file, each band following the deep trail worn in the parched soil by the tireless feet of generations of their kind. At a quick walk they swing along, their heads held low. The long beards of the bulls sweep the ground; the shuffling tread of many hoofs marks their passing, and above each long line rises a cloud of dust that sometimes obscures the westering sun. Life, activity, excitement, mark another memory as vivid as these. From behind a near hill mounted men ride out and charge down toward the herd. For an instant the buffalo pause to stare, and then crowd toge- ther in a close throng, jostling and pushing one another, a confused mass of horns, hair, and hoofs. Heads down and tails in air, they rush away from their pursuers, and as they race along herd joins herd, till the black mass sweeping over the prairie numbers thou- 156 In Buffalo Days sands. On its skirts hover the active, nim- ble horsemen, with twanging bowstrings and sharp arrows piercing many fat cows. The naked Indians cling to their naked horses as if the two were parts of one incomparable animal, and swing and yield to every motion of their steeds with the grace of perfect horse- manship. The ponies, as quick and skilful as the men, race up beside the fattest of the herd, swing off to avoid the charge of a maddened cow, and, returning, dart close to the victim, whirling hither and yon, like swallows on the wing. And their riders, with the unconscious skill, grace, and power of matchless archery, are drawing their bows to the arrow’s head, and driving the feathered shaft deep through the bodies of the buffalo. Returning on their tracks, they skin the dead, then load the meat and robes on their horses, and with laughter and jest ride away. After them, on the deserted prairie, come the wolves to tear at the carcasses. The rain and the snow wash the blood from the bones, and fade and bleach the hair. For a few months the skeleton holds together; then it falls apart, and the fox and the badger pull 157 American Big-Game Hunting about the whitening bones and scatter them over the plain. So this cow and this bull of mine may have left their bones on the prairie, where I found them and picked them up to keep as mementos of the past, to dream over, and in such reverie to see again the swelling hosts which yesterday covered the plains, and to-day are but a dream. So the buffalo passed into history. Once an inhabitant of this continent from the Arctic slope to Mexico, and from Virginia to Oregon, and, within the memory of men yet young, roaming the plains in such numbers that it seemed as if it could never be exterminated, it has now disappeared as utterly as has the bison from Europe. For it is probable that the existing herds of that practically extinct species, now carefully guarded in the forests of Grodno, about equal in numbers the buffalo in the Yellowstone Park; while the wild bison in the Caucasus may be compared with the “wood” buffalo which survive in the Peace River district. In view of the former abun- dance of our buffalo, this parallel is curious and interesting. The early explorers were constantly as- 158 In Buffalo Days tonished by the multitudinous herds which they met with, the regularity of their move- ments, and the deep roads which they made in traveling from place to place. Many of the earlier references are to territory east of the Mississippi, but even within the last fifteen years buffalo were to be seen on the Western plains in numbers so great that an entirely sober and truthful account seems like fable. Describing the abundance of buffalo in a cer- tain region, an Indian once said to me, in the expressive sign-language of which all old frontiersmen have some knowledge: “The country was one robe.” Much has been written about their enor- mous abundance in the old days, but I have never read anything that I thought an exag- geration of their numbers as I have seen them. Only one who has actually spent months in traveling among them in those old days can credit the stories told about them. The trains of the Kansas Pacific Railroad used frequently to be detained by herds which were crossing the tracks in front of the engines; and in 1870, trains on which I was traveling were twice so held, in one case for three hours. When 159 American Big-Game Hunting railroad travel first began on this road, the engineers tried the experiment of running through these passing herds; but after their engines had been thrown from the tracks they learned wisdom, and gave the buffalo the right of way. Two or three years later, in the country between the Platte and Republican rivers, I saw a closely massed herd of buffalo so vast that I dared not hazard a guess as to its numbers; and in later years I have traveled, for weeks at a time, in northern Montana without ever being out of sight of buffalo. These were not in close herds, ex- cept now and then when alarmed and running, but were usually scattered about, feeding or lying down on the prairie at a little distance from one another, much as domestic cattle distribute themselves in a pasture or on the range. As far as we could see on every side of the line of march, and ahead, the hillsides were dotted with dark forms, and the field- glass revealed yet others stretched out on every side, in one continuous host, to the most distant hills. Thus was gained a more just notion of their numbers than could be had in any other way, for the sight of this limitless 160 At Mid-day. From Scribner’s Magazine. In Buffalo Days territory occupied by these continuous herds was far more impressive than the spectacle of a surging, terrified mass of fleeing buffalo, even though the numbers which passed rapidly before the observer’s gaze in a short time were very great. The former range of the buffalo has been worked out with painstaking care by Dr. Allen, to whom we owe an admirable mono- graph on this species. He concludes that the northern limit of this range was north of the Great Slave Lake, in latitude about 63° N.; while to the south it extended into Mexico as far as latitude 25° N. To the west it ranged at least as far as the Blue Moun- tains of Oregon, while on the east it was abundant in the western portions of New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, North and South Carolinas, and Georgia. In the interior the buffalo were very abundant, and occupied Ohio, Kentucky, West Virginia, Tennessee, West Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, and Iowa, parts of Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota, the whole of the great plains, from southern Texas north to their northern limit, and much of the Rocky Mountains. In Montana, Idaho, II 161 American Big-Game Hunting Wyoming, and most of New Mexico they were abundant, and probably common over a large part of Utah, and perhaps in northern Nevada. So far as now known, their western limit was the Blue Mountains of Oregon and the eastern foot-hills of the Sierra Nevada. Thus it will be seen that the buffalo once ranged over a large part of the American continent,— Dr. Allen says one third of it,— but it must not be imagined that they were always present at the same time in every part of their range. They were a wandering race, sometimes leaving a district and being long absent, and again returning and occupying it for a considerable period. What laws or what impulses governed these movements we can- not know. Their wandering habits were well understood by the Indians of the Western plains, who depended upon the buffalo for food. It was their custom to follow the herds about, and when, as sometimes occurred, these moved away and could not be found, the In- dians were reduced to great straits for food, and sometimes even starved to death. Under natural conditions the buffalo was an animal of rather sluggish habits, mild, inoffen- 162 In Buffalo Days sive, and dull. In its ways of life and intel- ligence it closely resembled our domestic cattle. It was slow to learn by experience, and this lack of intelligence greatly hastened the destruction of the race. Until the very last years of its existence as a species, it did not appear to connect the report of firearms with any idea of danger to itself, and though constantly pursued, did not become wild. If he used skill and judgment in shooting, a hunter who had “got a stand” on a small bunch could kill them all before they had moved out of rifle-shot. It was my fortune, one summer, to hunt for a camp of soldiers, and more than once I have lain on a hill above a little herd of buffalo, shot down what young bulls I needed to supply the camp, and then walked down to the bunch and, by waving my hat and shouting, driven off the survivors, so that I could prepare the meat for transportation to camp. This slowness to take the alarm, or indeed to realize the presence of danger, was characteristic of the buffalo almost up to the very last. A time did come when they were alarmed readily enough, but this was not until all the large 163 American Big-Game Hunting herds had been broken up and scattered, and the miserable survivors had been so chased and harried that at last they learned to start and run even at their own shadows. Another peculiarity of the buffalo was its habit, when stampeded, of dashing blindly forward against, over, or through anything that might be in the way. When running, a herd of buffalo followed its leaders, and yet these leaders lost the power of stopping, or even of turning aside, because they were con- stantly crowded upon and pushed forward by those behind. This explains why herds would dash into mire or quicksands, as they often did, and thus perish by the thousand. Those in front could not stop, while those be- hind could not see the danger toward which they were rushing. So, too, they ran into rivers, or into traps made for them by the Indians, or against railroad cars, or even dashed into the rivers and swam blindly against the sides of steamboats. If an ob- stacle lay squarely across their path, they tried to go through it, but if it lay at an angle to their course, they would turn a little to follow it, as will be shown further on. 164 In Buffalo Days The buffalo calf is born from April to June, and at first is an awkward little creature, looking much like a domestic calf, but with a shorter neck. The hump at first is scarcely noticeable, but develops rapidly. They are odd-looking and very playful little animals. They are easily caught and tamed when quite young, but when a few months old they become as shy as the old buffalo, and are much more swift of foot. Although apparently very sluggish, buffalo are really extremely active, and are able to go at headlong speed over a country where no man would dare to ride a horse. When alarmed they will throw themselves down the almost vertical side of a cafion and climb the opposite wall with cat-like agility. Some- times they will descend cut banks by jumping from shelf to shelf of rock like the mountain sheep. To get at water when thirsty, they will climb down bluffs that seem altogether impracticable for such great animals. Many years ago, while descending the Missouri River in a flatboat with two companions, I landed in a wide bottom to kill a mountain sheep. As we were bringing the meat to the 11* 165 American Big-Game Hunting boat, we saw on the opposite side of the river, about half-way down the bluffs, which were here about fifteen hundred feet high, a large buffalo bull. The bluffs were almost vertical, and this old fellow was having some difficulty in making his way down to the water. He went slowly and carefully, at times having pretty good going, and at others slipping and sliding for thirty or forty feet, sending the clay and stones rolling ahead of him in great quantities. We watched him for a little while, and then it oc- curred to some malicious spirit among us that it would be fun to see whether the bull could go up where he had come down. A shot was fired so as to strike near him,—for no one wanted to hurt the old fellow,—and as soon as the report reached his ears; he ‘turned about and began to scramble up the bluffs. His first rush carried him, perhaps, a hundred feet vertically, and then he stopped and looked around. He seemed not to have the slightest difficulty in climbing up, nor did he use any caution, or appear to pick his way at all. A second shot caused another rush up the steep ascent, but this time he went only 166 In Buffalo Days half as far as before, and again stopped. Three or four other shots drove him by shorter and shorter rushes up the bluffs, until at length he would go no further, and subse- quent shots only caused him to shake his head angrily. Plainly he had climbed until his wind had given out, and now he would stand and fight. Our fun was over, and look- ing back as we floated down the river, our last glimpse was of the old bull, still standing on his shelf, waiting with lowered head for the unknown enemy that he supposed was about to attack him. It is not only under the stress of circum- stances that the bison climbs. The mountain buffalo is almost as active as the mountain sheep, and was often found in places that tested the nerve and activity of a man to reach; and even the buffalo of the plains had a fondness for high places, and used to climb up on to broken buttes or high rocky points. In recent years I have often noticed the same habit among range cattle and horses. The buffalo were fond of rolling in the dirt, and to this habit, practised when the ground was wet, are due the buffalo wallows 167 American Big-Game Hunting which so frequently occur in the old ranges, and which often contain water after all other moisture, except that of the streams, is dried up. These wallows were formed by the roll- ing of a succession of buffalo in the same moist place, and were frequently quite deep. They have often been described. Less well known was the habit of scratching themselves against trees and rocks. Sometimes a soli- tary erratic boulder, five or six feet high, may be seen on the bare prairie, the ground immediately around it being worn down two or three feet below the level of the surround- ing earth. This is where the buffalo have walked about the stone, rubbing against it, and, where they trod, loosening the soil, which has been blown away by the wind, so that in course of time a deep trench was worn about the rock. Often single trees along streams were worn quite smooth by the shoulders and sides of the buffalo. When the first telegraph line was built across the continent, the poles used were light and small, for transportation over the plains was slow and expensive, and it was not thought necessary to raise the wires high 168 In Buffalo Days above the ground. These poles were much resorted to by the buffalo to scratch against, and before long a great many of them were pushed over. A story, now of considerable antiquity, is told of an ingenious employee of the telegraph company, who devised a plan for preventing the buffalo from dis- turbing the poles. This he expected to accomplish by driving into them spikes which should prick the animals when they rubbed against them. The result somewhat astonished the inventor, for it was discovered that where formerly one buffalo rubbed against the smooth telegraph poles, ten now struggled and fought for the chance to scratch themselves against the spiked poles, the iron furnishing just the irritation which their tough hides needed. It was in spring, when its coat was being shed, that the buffalo, odd-looking enough at any time, presented its most grotesque appearance. The matted hair and wool of the shoulders and sides began to peel off in great sheets, and these sheets, clinging to the skin and flapping in the wind, gave it the appearance of being clad in rags. 169 American Big-Game Hunting The buffalo was a timid creature, but brought to bay would fight with ferocity. There were few sights more terrifying to the novice than the spectacle of an old bull at bay: his mighty bulk, a quivering mass of active, enraged muscle; the shining horns; the little, spiky tail; and the eyes half hidden beneath the shaggy frontlet, yet gleaming with rage, combined to render him an awe- inspiring object. Nevertheless, owing to their greater speed and activity, the cows were much more to be feared than the bulls. It was once thought that the buffalo per- formed annually extensive migrations, and it was even said that those which spent the summer on the banks of the Saskatchewan wintered in Texas. There is no reason for believing this to have been true. Undoubt- edly there were slight general movements north and south, and east and west, at cer- tain seasons of the year; but many of the accounts of these movements are entirely misleading, because greatly exaggerated. In one portion of the northern country I know that there was a decided east and west sea- sonal migration, the herds tending in spring 170 In Buffalo Days away from the mountains, while in the au- tumn they worked back again, seeking shelter in the rough, broken country of the foot-hills from the cold west winds of the winter. The buffalo is easily tamed when caught as a calf, and in all its ways of life resembles the domestic cattle. It at once learns to respect a fence, and, even if at large, mani- fests no disposition to wander. Three years ago there were in this country about two hundred and fifty domesticated buffalo, in the possession of about a dozen individuals. Of these the most important herd was that of Hon. C. J. Jones, of Garden City, Kansas, which, besides about fifty animals captured and reared by himself, included also the Bedson herd of over eighty, purchased in Manitoba. The Jones herd at one time con- sisted of about one hundred and fifty head. Next came that of Charles Allard and Michel Pablo, of the Flathead Agency in Montana, which in 1888 numbered thirty-five, and has now increased to about ninety. Mr. Jones’s herd has been broken up, and he now retains only about forty-five head, of which fifteen are breeding cows. He tells me that within 17a American Big-Game Hunting the past year or two he has sold over sixty pure buffalo, and that nearly as many more have died through injuries received in trans- porting them by rail. Mr. Jones is the only individual who, of re- cent years, has made any systematic effort to cross the buffalo with our own domestic cattle. As far back as the beginning of the present century, this was successfully done in the West and Northwest; and in Audubon and Bachman’s “Quadrupeds of America” may be found an extremely interesting account, writ- ten by Robert Wickliffe, of Lexington, Ken- tucky, giving the results of a series of careful and successful experiments which he carried on for more than thirty years. These experi- ments showed that the cross for certain purposes was a very valuable one, but no systematic efforts to establish and perpetuate a breed of buffalo cattle were afterward made until within the past ten years. Mr. Jones has bred buffalo bulls to Galloway, Polled Angus, and ordinary range cows, and has succeeded in obtaining calves from all. Such half-breeds are of very large size, extremely hardy, and, as a farmer would say, “easy keepers.” 172 In Buffalo Days They are fertile among themselves or with either parent. A half-breed cow of Mr. Jones's that I examined was fully as large as an ordinary work-ox, and in spring, while nursing a calf, was fat on grass. She lacked the buffalo hump, but her hide would have made a good robe. The great size and tremendous frame of these cross-bred cattle should make them very valuable for beef, while their hardiness would exempt them from the dangers of winter,—so often fatal to domestic range cattle,—and they produce a robe which is quite as valuable as that of the buffalo, and more beautiful because more even all over. If continued, these attempts at cross-breeding may do much to improve our Western range cattle. Mr. Jones has sold a number of buffalo to persons in Europe, where there is a consider- able demand for them. It is to be hoped that no more of these domesticated buffalo will be allowed to leave the country where they were born. Indeed, it would seem quite within the lines of the work now being carried on by the Agricultural Department, for the gov- ernment to purchase all the domesticated 173 American Big-Game Hunting American buffalo that can be had, and to start, in some one of the Western States, an experimental farm for buffalo breeding and buffalo crossing. With a herd of fifty pure- bred buffalo cows and a sufficient number of bulls, a series of experiments could be carried on which might be of great value to the cattle-growers of our western country. The stock of pure buffalo could be kept up and in- creased; surplus bulls, pure and half bred, could be sold to farmers; and, in time, the new race of buffalo cattle might become so firmly established that it would endure. To undertake this with any prospect of success, such a farm would have to be man- aged by a man of intelligence and of wide experience in this particular field; otherwise all the money invested would be wasted. Mr. Jones is perhaps the only man living who knows enough of this subject to carry on an experimental farm with success. Although only one species of buffalo is known to science, old mountaineers and In- dians tell of four kinds. These are, besides the ordinary animal of the plains, the ‘‘moun- tain buffalo,” sometimes called “bison,” which 174 In Buffalo Days is found in the timbered Rocky Mountains; the “wood buffalo” of the Northwest, which inhabits the timbered country to the west and north of Athabasca Lake; and the “beaver buffalo.” The last named has been vaguely described to me by northern Indians as small and having a very curly coat. I know of only one printed account of it, and this says that it had “short, sharp horns which were small at the root and curiously turned up and bent backward, not unlike a ram’s, but quite unlike the bend of the horn in the common | buffalo.” It is possible that this description may refer to the musk-ox, and not to a buf- falo. The “mountain” and “wood” buffalo seem to be very much alike in habit and ap- pearance. They are larger, darker, and heavier than the animal of the plains, but there is no reason for thinking them specifi- cally distinct from it. Such differences as exist are due to conditions of environment. The color of the buffalo in its new coat is a dark liver-brown. This soon changes, how- ever, and the hides, which are at their best in November and early December, begin to grow paler toward spring; and when the coat 175 American Big-Game Hunting is shed, the hair and wool from young ani- mals is almost a dark smoky-gray. The calf when just born is of a bright yellow color, almost a pale red on the line of the back. As it grows older it becomes darker, and by late autumn is almost as dark as the adults. Variations from the normal color are very rare, but pied, spotted, and roan animals are sometimes killed. Blue or mouse-colored buf- falo were occasionally seen, and a bull of this color was observed in the National Park last January. White buffalo—though often re- ferred to as mythical—sometimes occurred. These varied from gray to cream-white. Whe ‘rare’ and valuable “‘silk” or “beaver” robe owes its name to its dark color and its peculiar sheen or gloss. White or spotted robes were highly valued by the Indians. Among the Blackfeet they were presented to the Sun as votive offerings. Other tribes kept them in their sacred bundles. Apart from man, the buffalo had but few natural enemies. Of these the most destruc- tive were the wolves, which killed a great many of them. These, however, were prin- cipally old, straggling bulls, for the calves 176 In Buftalo Days were protected by their mothers, and the fe- males and young stock were so vigorous and so gregarious that they had but little to fear from this danger. It is probable that, notwithstanding the destruction which they wrought, the wolves performed an important service for the buffalo race, keeping it vigor- ous and healthy by killing weak, disabled, and superannuated animals, which could no longer serve any useful purpose in the herd, and yet consumed the grass which would support a healthy breeding animal. It is cer- tainly true that sick buffalo, or those out of condition, were rarely seen. The grizzly bear fed to some extent on the carcasses of buffalo drowned in the rivers or caught in the quicksands, and occasionally they caught living buffalo and killed them. A Blackfoot Indian told me of an attempt of this kind which he witnessed. He was lying hidden by a buffalo trail in the Bad Lands, near a little creek, waiting for a small bunch to come down to water, so that he might kill one. The buffalo came on in single file as usual, the leading animal being a young heifer. When they had nearly reached the rR 177 American Big-Game Hunting water, and were passing under a vertical clay wall, a grizzly bear, lying hid on a shelf of this wall, reached down, and with both paws caught the heifer about the neck and threw himself upon her. The others at once ran off, and a short struggle ensued, the bear trying to kill the heifer, and she to escape. Almost at once, however, the Indian saw a splendid young bull come rushing down the trail toward the scene of conflict, and charge the bear, knocking him down. A fierce com- bat ensued. The bull would charge the bear, and when he struck him fairly would knock him off his feet, often inflicting severe wounds with his sharp horns. The bear struck at the bull, and tried to catch him by the head or shoulders, and to hold him, but this he could not do. After fifteen or twenty minutes of fierce and active fighting, the bear had re- ceived all the punishment he cared for, and tried to escape, but the bull would not let him go, and kept up the attack until he had killed his adversary. Even after the bear was dead the bull would gore the carcass and some- times lift it clear of the ground on his horns. He seemed insane with rage, and, notwith- 178 In Buffalo Days standing the fact that most of the skin was torn from his head and shoulders, appeared to be looking about for something else to fight. The Indian was very much afraid lest the bull should discover and kill him, and was greatly relieved when he finally left the bear and went off to join his band. This Blackfoot had never heard of Uncle Remus’s tales, but he imitated Brer Rabbit—laid low and said nothing. To the Indians the buffalo was the staff of life. It was their food, clothing, dwellings, tools. The needs of a savage people are not many, perhaps, but whatever the Indians of the plains had, that the buffalo gave them. It is not strange, then, that this animal was reverenced by most plains tribes, nor that it entered largely into their sacred ceremonies, and was in a sense worshiped by them. The Pawnees, in explaining their religious cus- toms, say, “Through the corn and the buffalo we worship the Father.” The Blackfeet ask, “What one of all the animals is most sacred?” and the reply given is, “The buffalo.” The robe was the Indian’s winter covering and his bed, while the skin, freed from the 179 American Big-Game Hunting hair and dressed, constituted his summer sheet or blanket. The dressed hide was used for moccasins, leggings, shirts, and women’s dresses. Dressed cow-skins formed the lodges, the warmest and most comfortable portable shelters ever devised. Braided strands of rawhide furnished them with ropes and lines, and these were made also from the twisted hair. The green hide was sometimes used as a kettle, in which to boil meat, or, stretched over a frame of boughs, gave them coracles, or boats, for crossing rivers. The tough, thick hide of the bull’s neck, allowed to shrink smooth, made a shield which would turn a lance-thrust, an arrow, or even the ball from an old-fashioned smooth-bore gun. From the rawhide, the hair having been shaved off, were made par- fleches—envelop-like cases which served for trunks or boxes—useful to contain small articles. The cannon-bones and ribs were used to make implements for dressing hides; the shoulder-blades lashed to sticks made hoes and axes, and the ribs runners for small sledges drawn by dogs. The hoofs were boiled to make a glue for fastening the 180 In Buffalo Days feathers and heads on their arrows, the hair used to stuff cushions, and later saddles, strands of the long black beard to ornament articles of wearing-apparel and implements of war, such as shields and quivers. The sinews lying along the back gave them thread and bowstrings, and backed their bows. The horns furnished spoons and ladles, and ornamented their war-bonnets. Water-buckets were made from the lining of the paunch. The skin of the hind leg cut off above the pastern, and again a short distance above the hock, was once used for a moccasin or boot. Fly-brushes were made from the skin of the tail dried on sticks. Knife-sheaths, quivers, bow-cases, gun-cov- ers, saddle-cloths, and a hundred other useful and necessary articles, all were furnished by the buffalo. The Indians killed some smaller game, as elk, deer, and antelope, but for food their de- pendence was on the buffalo. But before the coming of the whites their knives and arrow- heads were merely sharpened stones, wea- pons which would be inefficient against such great, thick-skinned beasts. Even under the 12" 181 American Big-Game Hunting most favorable circumstances, with these primitive implements, they could not kill food in quantities sufficient to supply their needs. There must be some means of taking the buffalo in considerable numbers. Such whole- sale capture was accomplished by means of traps or surrounds, which all depended for success on one characteristic of the animal, its curiosity. The Blackfeet, Plains Crees, Gros Ventres of the Prairie, Sarcees, some bands of the Dakotas, Snakes, Crows, and some others, drove the herds of buffalo into pens from above, or over high cliffs, where the fall killed or crippled a large majority of the herd. The Cheyennes and Arapahoes drove them into pens on level ground; the Black- feet, Aricaras, Mandans, Gros Ventres of the Village, Pawnees, Omahas, Otoes, and others, surrounded the herds in great circles on the prairie, and then, frightening them so that they started running, kept them from break- ing through the line of men, and made them race round and round in a circle, until they were so exhausted that they could not run away, and were easily killed. 182 In Buffalo Days These primitive modes of slaughter have been described by earlier writers, and fre- quently quoted in recent years; yet, in all that has been written on this subject, I fail to find a single account which gives at all a true notion of the methods employed, or the means by which the buffalo were brought into the inclosures. Eye-witnesses have been careless observers, and have taken many things for granted. My understanding of this matter is derived from men who from childhood have been familiar with these things, and from them, during years of close association, I have again and again heard the story of these old hunting methods. The Blackfoot trap was called the pzskiin. It was an inclosure, one side of which was formed by the vertical wall of a cut bank, the others being built of rocks, logs, poles, and brush six or eight feet high. It was not necessary that these walls should be very strong, but they had to be tight, so that the buffalo could not see through them. From a point on the cut bank above this inclosure, in two diverging lines stretching far out into the prairie, piles of rock were heaped up 183 American Big-Game Hunting at short intervals, or bushes were stuck in the ground, forming the wings of a V-shaped chute, which would guide any animals run- ning down the chute to its angle above the piskun. When a herd of buffalo were feed- ing near at hand, the people prepared for the hunt, in which almost the whole camp took part. It is commonly stated that the buffalo were driven into the piskun by mounted men, but this was not the case. They were not driven, but led, and they were led by an appeal to their curiosity. The man who brought them was usually the possessor of a “buffalo rock,” a talisman which was be- lieved to give him greater power to call the buffalo than was had by others. The previous night was spent by this man in praying for success in the enterprise of the morrow. The help of the Sun, Vagz, and all Above People was asked for, and sweet- grass was burned to them. Early in the morning, without eating or drinking, the man started away from the camp and went up on the prairie. Before he left the lodge, he told his wives that they must not go out, or even look out, of the lodge during his 184 wre a ES SS OR A Fone hog ay Blackfoot Indian Pis’kun. From Scribner’s Magazine. In Buffalo Days absence. They should stay there, and pray to the Sun for his success, and burn sweet- grass until he returned. When he left the camp and went up on to the prairie toward the buffalo, all the people followed him, and distributed themselves along the wings of the chute, hiding behind the piles of rock or brush. The caller sometimes wore a robe and a bull’s-head bonnet, or at times was naked. When he had approached close to the buffalo, he endeavored to attract their attention by moving about, wheeling round and round, and alternately appearing and disappearing. The feeding buffalo soon be- gan to raise their heads and stare at him, and presently the nearest ones would walk to- ward him to discover what this strange creature might be, and the others would follow. As they began to approach, the man withdrew toward the entrance of the chute. If the buffalo began to trot, he increased his speed, and before very long he had the herd well within the wings. As soon as they had passed the first piles of rock, behind which some of the people were concealed, the Indians sprang into view, and by yelling 185 American Big-Game Hunting and waving robes frightened the hind-most of the buffalo, which then began to run down the chute. As they passed along, more and more people showed themselves and added to their terror, and in a very short time the herd was in a headlong stampede, guided toward the angle above the piskun by the piles of rock on either side. About the walls of the piskun, now full of buffalo, were distributed the women and children of the camp, who, leaning over the inclosure, waving their arms and calling out, did all they could to frighten the penned-in animals, and to keep them from pushing against the walls or trying to jump or climb over them. Asa rule the buffalo raced round within the inclosure, and the men shot them down as they passed, until all were killed. After this the people all entered the piskun and cut up the dead, transporting the meat to camp. The skulls, bones, and less perishable offal were removed from the inclosure, and the wolves, coyotes, foxes, and badgers de- voured what was left. It occasionally happened that something occurred to turn the buffalo, so that they 186 In Buffalo Days passed through the guiding arms and es- caped. Usually they went on straight to the angle and jumped over the cliff into the in- closure below. In winter, when snow was on the ground, their straight course was made additionally certain by placing on, or just above, the snow a line of buffalo-chips leading from the angle of the V, midway be- tween its arms, out on to the prairie. These dark objects, only twenty or thirty feet apart, were easily seen against the white snow, and the buffalo always followed them, no doubt thinking this a trail where another herd had passed. By the Sz£szkau tribe of the Blackfoot nation and the Plains Crees, the piskun was built in a somewhat different way, but the methods employed were similar. With these people, who inhabited a flat country, the inclosure was built of logs and near a tim- bered stream. Its circular wall was complete; that is, there was no opening or gateway in it, but at one point this wall, elsewhere eight feet high, was cut away so that its height was only four feet. From this point a bridge or causeway of logs, covered with dirt, sloped 187 American Big-Game Hunting by a gradual descent down to the level of the prairie. This bridge was fenced on either side with logs, and the arms of the V came together at the point where the bridge reached the ground. The _ buffalo were driven down the chute as before, ran up on this bridge, and were forced to leap into the pen, Asisoon as all had entered Indians who had been concealed near by ran up and put poles across the opening through which the buffalo had passed, and over these poles hung robes so as entirely to conceal the outer world. Then the butchering of the animals took place. Further to the south, out on the prairie, where timber and rocks and brush were not obtainable for making traps like these, sim- pler but less effective methods were adopted. The people would go out on the prairie and conceal themselves in a great circle, open on one side. Then some man would approach the buffalo, and decoy them into the circle. Men would now show themselves at different points and start the buffalo running in a circle, yelling and waving robes to keep them from approaching or trying to break through 188 In Buffalo Days the ring of men. This had to be done with great judgment, however; for often if the herd got started in one direction it was impossible to turn it, and it would rush through the ring and none would be secured. Sometimes, if a herd was found in a favorable position, and there was no wind, a large camp of people would set up their lodges all about the buffalo, in which case the chances of success in the surround were greatly increased. The tribes which used the piskun also practised driving the buffalo over high, rough cliffs, where the fall crippled or killed most of the animals which went over. In such situations, no inclosure was built at the foot of the precipice. In the later days of the piskun in the north, the man who brought the buffalo often went to them on horseback, riding a white horse. He would ride backward and for- ward before them, zigzagging this way and that, and after a little they would follow him. He never attempted to drive, but always led them. The driving began only after the herd had passed the outer rock piles, and the people had begun to rise up and frighten them. 189 American Big-Game Hunting This method of securing meat has been practised in Montana within thirty years, and even more recently among the Plains Crees of the north. I have seen the remains of old piskuns, and the guiding wings of the chute, and have talked with many men who have taken part in such killings. All this had to do, of course, with the primitive methods of buffalo killing. As soon as horses became abundant, and sheet- iron arrow-heads and, later, guns were se- cured by the Indians, these old practices began to give way to the more exciting pur- suit of running buffalo and of surrounding them on horseback. Of this modern method, as practised twenty years ago, and ex- clusively with the bow and arrow, I have already written at some length in another place. To the white travelers on the plains in early days the buffalo furnished support and sustenance. Their abundance made fresh meat easily obtainable, and the early travel- ers usually carried with them bundles of dried meat, or sacks of pemmican, food made from the flesh of the buffalo, that contained a 190 In Buffalo Days great deal of nutriment in very small bulk. Robes were used for bedding, and in winter buffalo moccasins were worn for warmth, the hair side within. Coats of buffalo-skin are the warmest covering known, the only gar- ment which will present an effective barrier to the bitter blasts that sweep over the plains of the Northwest. Perhaps as useful to early travelers as any product of the buffalo, was the “buffalo chip,” or dried dung. This, being composed ony comminuted woody fiber of the grass, made an excellent fuel, and in many parts of the treeless plains was the only substance which could be used to cook with. The dismal story of the extermination of the buffalo for its hides has been so often told, that I may be spared the sickening de- tails of the butchery which was carried on from the Mexican to the British boundary line in the struggle to obtain a few dollars by a most ignoble means. As soon as railroads penetrated the buffalo country, a market was opened for the hides. Men too lazy to work were not too lazy to hunt, and a good hunter could kill in the early days from thirty to Ig! American Big-Game Hunting seventy-five buffalo a day, the hides of which were worth from $1.50 to $4 each. This seemed an easy way to make money, and the market for hides was unlimited. Up to this time the trade in robes had been mainly con- fined to those dressed by the Indians, and these were for the most part taken from cows. The coming of the railroad made hides of all sorts marketable, and even those taken from naked old bulls found a sale at some price. The butchery of buffalo was now something stupendous. Thousands of hunters followed millions of buffalo and de- stroyed them wherever found and at all sea- sons of the year. They pursued them during the day, and at night camped at the watering- places, and built lines of fires along the streams, to drive the buffalo back so that they could not drink. It took less than six years to destroy all the buffalo in Kansas, Nebraska, Indian Territory, and northern Texas. Ghevtew, ‘that, were left vol mthre southern herd retreated to the waterless plains of Texas, and there for a while hada brief respite. Even here the hunters fol- lowed them, but as the animals were few and 192 In Buffalo Days the territory in which they ranged vast, they held out here for some years. It was in this country, and against the last survivors of this southern herd, that ‘‘ Buffalo Jones” made his successful trips to capture calves. The extirpation of the northern herd was longer delayed. No very terrible slaughter occurred until the completion of the Northern Pacific Railroad; then, however, the same scenes of butchery were enacted. Buffalo were shot down by tens of thousands, their hides stripped off, and the meat left to the wolves. The result of the crusade was soon seen, and the last buffalo were killed in the Northwest near the boundary line in 1883, and that year may be said to have finished up the species, though some few were killed in 1884 to 1885. After the slaughter had been begun, but years before it had been accomplished, the subject was brought to the attention of Con- gress, and legislation looking to the preser- vation of the species was urged upon that body. Little general interest was taken in the subject, but in 1874, after much discus- sion, Congress did pass an act providing for a3 193 American Big-Game Hunting the protection of the buffalo. The bill, how- ever, was never signed by the President. During the last days of the buffalo, a re- markable change took place in its form, and this change is worthy of consideration by naturalists, for it is an example of specializa- tion—of development in one particular direc- tion— which was due to a change in the en- vironment of the species, and is interesting because it was brought about in a very few years, and indicates how rapidly, under favor- ing conditions, such specialization may some- times take place. This change was noticed and commented on by hunters who followed the northern buffalo, as well as by those who assisted in the exter- mination of the southern herd. The southern hunters, however, averred that the “regular” buffalo had disappeared—gone off some- where—and that their place had been taken by what they called the southern buffalo, a race said to have come up from Mexico, and characterized by longer legs and a longer, lighter body than the buffalo of earlier years, and which was also peculiar in that the animals never became fat. Intelligent hunters of the 194 In Buffalo Days northern herd, however, recognized the true state of the case, which was that the buffalo, during the last years of their existence, were so constantly pursued and driven from place to place that they never had time to lay on fat as in earlier years, and that, as a conse- quence of this continual running, the animal’s form changed, and instead of a fat, short- backed, short-legged animal, it became a long-legged, light-bodied beast, formed for running. This specialization in the direction of speed at first proceeded very slowly, but at last, as the dangers to which the animals were subjected became more and more press- ing, it took place rapidly, and as a conse- quence the last buffalo killed on the plains were extremely long-legged and rangy, and were very different in appearance—as they were in their habits—from the animals of twenty years ago. Buffalo running was not a sport that re- quired much skill, yet it was not without its dangers. Occasionally a man was killed by the buffalo, but deaths from falls and from bursting guns were more common. Many 195 American Big-Game Hunting curious stories of such accidents are told by the few surviving old-timers whose memory goes back fifty years, to the time when flint- lock guns were in use. A mere fall from a horse is lightly regarded by the practised rider; the danger to be feared is that in such a fall the horse may roll on the man and crush him. Even more serious accidents occurred when a man fell upon some part of his equipment, which was driven through his body. Hunters have fallen in such a way that their whip-stocks, arrows, bows, and even guns, have been driven through their bodies. The old flint-lock guns, or “fukes,” which were loaded on the run, with powder poured in from the horn by guess, and a ball from the mouth, used frequently to burst, causing the loss of hands, arms, and even lives. While most of the deaths which occurred in the chase resulted from causes other than the resistance of the buffalo, these did oc- casionally kill a man. A curious accident happened in a camp of Red River half-breeds in the early seventies. The son of an Iroquois half-breed, about twenty years old, went out one day with the rest of the camp to run 196 Through the Mist. From Scribner’s Magazine. In Buffalo Days buffalo.. At night he did not return, and the next day all the men went out to search for him. They found the horse and the arms, but could not find the man, and could not imagine what had become of him. About a year later, as the half-breeds were hunting in another part of the country, a cow was seen which had something unusual on her head. They chased and killed her, and found that she had on her head the pelvis of a man, one of the horns having pierced the thin part of the bone, which was wedged on so tightly that they could hardly get it off. Much of the hair on the head, neck, and shoulders of the cow was worn off short, and on the side on which the bone was, down on the neck and shoulders, the hair was short, black, and looked new, as if it had been worn entirely off the skin, and was just beginning to grow out again. It is supposed that this bone was part of the missing young man, who had been hooked by the cow, and carried about on her head until his body fell to pieces. My old and valued friend Charles Rey- nolds, for years chief of scouts at Fort Lincoln, Dakota, and who was killed by the Sioux in 13* 197 American Big-Game Hunting the Custer fight in 1876, told me of the death of a hunting partner of his, which shows how dangerous even a dying buffalo may be. The two men had started from the railroad to go south and bring in a load of meat. On finding a bunch of buffalo, they shot down by stalking what they required, and then on foot went up to the animals to skin them. One cow, lying on her side, was still moving a little convulsively, but dying. The man approached her as if about to cut her throat, but when he was within a few feet of her head, she sprang to her feet, rushed at him, struck him in the chest with her horns, and then fell dead. Charley ran up to his part- ner, and to his horror saw that the cow’s horn had ripped him up from the belly to the throat, so that he could see the heart still expanding and contracting. Charley buried his partner there, and re- turning to the town, told his story. He was at once arrested on the charge that he had murdered his companion, and was obliged to return to the place and to assist in digging up the body to satisfy the suspicious officials of the truth of his statements. 198 In Buffalo Days In the early days, when the game was plenty, buffalo-running was exhilarating sport. Given a good horse, the only other requisite to success was the ability to remain on his back till the end of the chase. No greater degree of skill was needed than this, and yet the quick motion of the horse, the rough ground to be traversed, and the feeling that there was something ahead that must be overtaken and stopped, made the ride attrac- tive. There was the very slightest spice of danger; for while no one anticipated a serious accident, it was always possible that one’s horse might step into a badger-hole, in which case his rider would get a fall that would make his bones ache. The most exciting, and by far the most interesting, hunts in which I ever took part were those with the Indians of the plains. They were conducted almost noiselessly, and no ring of rifle-shot broke the stillness of the air, nor puff of smoke rose toward the still, gray autumn sky. The consummate grace and skill of the naked Indians, and the speed and quickness of their splendid ponies, were well displayed in such chases as these. More 199 American Big-Game Hunting than one instance is recorded where an In- dian sent an arrow entirely through the bod- ies of two buffalo. Sometimes such a hunt was signalized by some feat of daring bra- vado that, save in the seeing, was scarcely credible, as when the Cheyenne Big Ribs rode his horse close up to the side of a huge bull, and, springing on his back, rode the savage beast for some distance, and then with his knife gave him the death-stroke. Or a man might find himself in a position of comical danger, as did “The Trader” who was thrown from his horse on to the horns of a bull without being injured. One of the horns passed under his belt and sup- ported him, and at the same time prevented the bull from tossing him. In this way he was carried for some distance on the animal’s head, when the belt gave way and he fell to the ground unhurt, while the bull ran on. There were occasions when buffalo or horses fell in front of horsemen riding at full run, and when a fall was avoided only by leaping one’s horse over the fallen animal. In the buffalo chase of old days it was well for a man to keep his wits about him; for, 200 In Buffalo Days though he might run buffalo a thousand times without accident, the moment might come when only instant action would save him his life, or at least an ugly hurt. In the early days of the first Pacific Rail- road, and before the herds had been driven back from the track, singular hunting-parties were sometimes seen on the buffalo range. These hunters were capitalists connected with the newly constructed road, and some of them now for the first time bestrode a horse, while few had ever used firearms. On such a hunt, one well-known railroad director, eager to kill a buffalo, declined to trust him- self on horseback, preferring to bounce over the rough prairie in an ambulance driven by an alarmed soldier, who gave less attention to the mules he was guiding than to the loaded and cocked pistol which his excited passenger was brandishing. These were amusing ex- cursions, where a merry party of pleasant officers from a frontier post, and their guests, a jolly crowd of merchants, brokers, and rail- road men from the East, started out to have a buffalo-hunt. With them went the post guide and a scout or two, an escort of soldiers, and 201 American Big-Game Hunting the great blue army-wagons, under whose white tilts were piled all the comforts that the post could furnish—unlimited food and drink, and many sacks of forage for the animals. Here all was mirth and jest and good-fellow- ship, and, except that canvas covered them while they slept, the hunters lived in as much comfort as when at home. The killing of buffalo was to them only an excuse for their jolly outing amid novel scenes. It was on the plains of Montana, in the days when buffalo were still abundant, that I had one of my last buffalo-hunts—a hunt with a serious purpose. A company of fifty or more men, who for weeks had been living on bacon and beans, longed for the ‘boss ribs” of fat cow, and when we struck the buffalo range two of us were deputed to kill some meat. My companion was an old prairie-man of great experience, and I myself was not altogether new to the West, for I had hunted in many territories, and had more than once been “jumped” by hostile Indians. Our horses were not buffalo-runners, yet we felt a certain confidence that if we could find a bunch and get a good start on them, 202 In Buffalo Days we would bring in the desired meat. The troops would march during the day, for the commanding officer had no notion of waiting in camp merely for fresh meat, and we were to go out, hunt, and overtake the command at their night’s camp. The next day after we had reached the buffalo range, we started out long before the eastern sky was gray, and were soon riding off over the chilly prairie. The trail which the command was to follow ran a little north of east, and we kept to the south and away from it, believing that in this direction we would find the game, and that if we started them they would run north or north- west—against the wind, so that we could kill them near the trail. Until some time after the sun had risen, we saw nothing larger than antelope; but at length, from the top of a high hill, we could see, far away to the east, dark dots on the prairie, which we knew could only be buffalo. They were undisturbed too; for, though we watched them for some time, we could detect no motion in their ranks. It took us nearly two hours to reach the low, broken buttes on the north side of which 203 American Big-Game Hunting the buffalo were; and, riding up on the easternmost of these, we tried to locate our game more exactly. It was important to get as close as possible before starting them, so that our first rush might carry us into the midst of them. Knowing the capabilities of our horses, which were thin from long travel, we felt sure that if the buffalo should take the alarm before we were close to them, we could not overtake the cows and young animals, which always run in the van, and should have to content ourselves with old bulls. On the other hand, if we could dash in among them during the first few hun- dred yards of the race, we should be able to keep up with and select the fattest animals imytue) herd, When we reached a point just below the crest of the hill, I stopped and waited, while my companion rode on. Just before he got to the top he too halted, then took off his hat and peered over the ridge, examining so much of the prairie beyond as was now visi- ble to him. His inspection was careful and thorough, and when he had made sure that nothing was in sight, his horse took a step or 204 In Buffalo Days two forward and then stopped again, and the rider scanned every foot of country before him. The horse, trained as the real hunter’s horse is always trained, understood what was required of him, and with pricked ears examined the prairie beyond with as much interest as did his rider. When the calf of Charley’s right leg pressed the horse’s side, two or three steps more were taken, and then a lifting of the bridle-hand caused another halt. At length I saw my companion slowly bend forward over his horse’s neck, turn, and ride back to me. He had seen the backs of two buffalo lying on the edge of a little flat hardly a quarter of a mile from where we stood. The others of the band must be still nearer to us. By riding along the lowest part of the sag which separated the two buttes, and then down a little ravine, it seemed probable that we could come within a few yards of the buffalo unobserved. Our preparations did not take long. The saddle cinches were loosened, blankets arranged, saddles put in their proper places and tightly cinched again. Cartridges were brought 205 American Big-Game Hunting round to the front) and right of the. bele where they would be convenient for reload- ing. Our coats, tied behind the saddle, were looked to, the strings which held them being tightened and securely retied. All this was not lost on our horses, which understood as well as we did what was coming. We skirted the butte, rode through the low sag and down into the little ravine, which soon grew deeper, so that our heads were below the range of vision of almost anything on the butte. Passing the mouth of the little side ravine, however, there came into full view a huge bull, lying well up on the hillside. Luckily his back was toward us, and, each bending low over his horse’s neck, we rode on, and in a moment were hidden by the side of the ravine. Two or three minutes more, and we came to another side ravine, which was wide and commanded a view of the flat. We stopped before reaching this, and a peep showed that we were within a few yards of two old cows, a young heifer, and a yearling, all of them to the north of us. Beyond, we could see the backs of others, all lying down. We jumped on our horses again, and set- 206 In Buffalo Days ting the spurs well in, galloped up the ravine and up on the flat; and as we came into view, the nearest buffalo, as if propelled by a huge spring, were on their feet, and, with a second’s pause to look, dashed away to the north. Scattered over the flat were fifty or seventy-five buffalo, all of which, by the time we had glanced over the field, were off, with heads bending low to the ground, and short, spiky tails stretched out behind. We were up even with the last of the cows, and our horses were running easily and seemed to have plenty of reserve power. Charley, who was a little ahead of me, called back: “They will cross the trail about a mile north of here. Kill a couple when we get to it.” I nodded, and we went on. The herd raced forward over the rolling hills, and in what seemed a very short time we rushed down a long slope on to a wide flat, in which was a prairie-dog town of considerable extent. We were on the very heels of the herd, and in a cloud of dust kicked up by their rapid flight. To see the ground ahead was impossible. We could only trust to our horses and our good luck to save us from falling. Our animals were doing 207 American Big-Game Hunting better than we had supposed they could, and were going well and under a pull. I felt that a touch of the spurs and a little riding would bring us up even with the leaders of the buf- falo. The pace had already proved too much for several bulls, which had turned off to one side and been passed by. As we flew across the flat, I saw far off a dark line and two white objects, which I knew must be our command. I called to my comrade, and, questioning by the sign, pointed at the buf- falo. He nodded, and in a moment we had given free rein to our horses and were up among the herd. During the ride I had two or three times selected my game, but the in- dividuals of the band changed positions so constantly that I could not keep track of them. Now, however, I picked out a fat two- year-old bull; but as I drew up to him he ran faster than before, and rapidly made his way toward the head of the band. I was resolved that he should not escape, and so, though I was still fifteen or twenty yards in the rear, fired. At the shot he fell heels over head directly across a cow which was running by his side and a little behind him. I saw her 208 In Buffalo Days turn a somersault, and almost at the same instant heard Charley shoot twice in quick succession, and saw two buffalo fall. I fired at a fat young cow that I had pushed my pony up close to. At the shot she whirled, my horse did the same, and she chased me as hard as she could go for seventy-five yards, while I did some exceedingly vigorous spur- ring, for she was close behind me all the time. To do my horse justice, I think that he would have run as fast as he could, even without the spurs, for he appreciated the situation. At no time was there any immediate danger that the cow would overtake us; if there had been, I should have dodged her. Presently the cow stopped, and stood there very sick. When I rode back, I did not find it easy to get my horse near her; but another shot was not needed, and while I sat looking at her she fell over dead. The three buffalo first killed had fallen within a hundred yards of the trail where the wagons afterward passed, and my cow was but little farther away. The command soon came up, the soldiers did the butchering, and before long we were on the march again across the parched plain. 14 209 American Big-Game Hunting Of the millions of buffalo which even in our own time ranged the plains in freedom, none now remain. From the prairies which they used to darken, the wild herds, down to the last straggling bull, have disappeared. In the Yellowstone National Park, protected from destruction by United States troops, are the only wild buffalo which exist within the borders of the United States. These are mountain buffalo, and, from their habit of liv- ing in the thick timber and on the rough mountain-sides, they are only now and then seen by visitors to the park. It is impossible to say just how many there are, but from the best information that I can get, based on the estimates of reliable and conservative men, I conclude that the number was not less than four hundred in the winter of 1891-92. Each winter or spring the government scout em- ployed in the park sees one or more herds of these buffalo, and as such herds are usually made up in part of young animals and have calves with them, it is fair to assume that they are steadily, if slowly, increasing. The report of a trip made in January, 1892, speaks of four herds seen in the Hayden Valley, which 210 In Buffalo Days numbered respectively 78, 50, 110, and 15. Besides these, a number of scattering groups were seen at a distance, which would bring the number up to three hundred. In the far northwest, in the Peace River district, there may still be found a few wood buffalo. They are seldom killed, and the estimate of their numbers varies from five hundred to fifteen hundred. This cannot be other than the merest guess, since they are scattered over many thousand square miles of territory which is without inhabitants, and for the most part unexplored. On the great plains is still found the buf- falo skull half buried in the soil and crum- bling to decay. The deep trails once trodden by the marching hosts are grass-grown now, and fast filling up. When these most endur- ing relics of a vanished race shall have passed away, there will be found, in all the limitless domain once darkened by their feed- ing herds, not one trace of the American buffalo. George Bird Grinnell. Nights with the Grizzlies In this paper I propose to give an account of some experience with the grizzly bear in the summer and fall of 1885. Here let me correct some impressions prevailing among sportsmen from the East as to the proper time to hunt this animal. As detailed in the sporting papers, one sportsman hunting late in the fall finds them at the timber-line, and having some success and basing his opinion upon statements of his guide, is satisfied that is the only place to find them, and that you must stealthily follow the trail through dense timber, as he did. Another sports- man finds them below the foot-hills among the Bad” Lands, and thinks that isthe proper locality; and so each one is gov- erned by his own particular good luck and experience, his reminds me ‘or the heared controversy that agitated some of the readers of one of the sporting papers a few years since as to the color of the jack-rabbit of the 212 Nights with the Grizzlies plains: one party contending they were gray and the opposing party that they were white, each party citing his own restricted experi- ence with that fleet-footed animal. To those having more extended observation it was plain that each side was to a certain extent right as well as wrong, for it is well known that the jack-rabbit is gray during summer and fall and turns white in the winter, and then again sheds his white coat in spring: at least this is the case in Wyoming and Montana. So with the grizzly. He is essentially an omnivorous animal: his food varying with each season and the locality where such food is obtained, his habitat varies accordingly. He lies in his winter bed until routed out by the melting of the winter snow, and the ground being still frozen, he has to rustle for his grub. He soon becomes poor from the necessity of much traveling around for old carcasses and whatever food comes handy. He is then usually in the foot-hills. In the summer his food is more vegetable — grass, roots, plants, etc. His haunt is then on the highest mountain plateaus, where he does a great deal of rooting in a certain kind of 14* 213 American Big-Game Hunting loose rock and loam. In the last of summer, berries are ripe, and he is then found below the foot-hills, and in the Bad Lands, or wher- ever chokeberries, plums, bulberries, etc., are found. In the fall he craves animal food, and is then found high up in the foot-hills, or again on the mountain plateaus, wherever game is most abundant; and in November and December he seeks his winter quarters. These remarks do not apply to grizzly bears that are found in the Bad Lands bordering the Missouri or the Lower Yellowstone, as they live there the entire year, “holing up” in winter in the bluffs of those desolate-look- ing regions. The intellect and intelligence of the grizzly bear are not fully appreciated. Strip him of his hide, stand him erect on his hind feet, stick a plug hat on his upper end, and he resembles in anatomy and general appear- ance that “noblest work of God’”—man: a little too long-bodied, neck a little short, but otherwise, looking at the muscles of his thighs and forearm, a veritable athlete. Re- clothe him in his fur, place him on his all fours, watch him rooting around for grubs 214 Prospecting for Grub. From Scribner’s Magazine. Nights with the Grizzlies and worms and carrion, and wallowing in mud and filth, and he resembles in apparent stupidity and habits the lowest type of animal —the hog. Yet those well acquainted with his characteristics will, I think, agree with me that in intelligence and perhaps even in in- tellect he is not many grades in the process of evolution below man. About the middle of July, 1885, word reached me that there was considerable sign of bear “rooting” on some high mountain plateaus not many days’ travel by pack-train from my ranch. Taking a pack outfit, in- cluding my fur-lined sleeping-bag, a good mountain man, and a lad of fifteen to take care of camp and the horses, and enough grub for a few days, we reached the locality, after a hard climb, about noon on the 18th of July. We made camp at about 8500 feet elevation on the head of one of the forks of Four Bear Creek, having to pack wood up from below for making coffee. We struck out after lunch up the gulch, and after going a few miles discovered a grizzly rooting among the rocks well up to its head, near the summit of the range, which is here 215 American Big-Game Hunting between 10,000 and 11,000 feet elevation. A reconnaissance indicated that the only chance to approach him to windward was by crossing the mountain to the right into the valley of another fork of Four Bear Creek. Accordingly, we climbed over the mountain divide and were making along its opposite slope, when just in our front about a mile off, near the head of the gulch on the right, was discovered another grizzly rooting. It was agreed that I was to have the shot, and it became necessary to leave my horse and dogs back with the men. I tock it afoot. A little study of the ground showed that in order to approach him suc- cessfully, it was necessary to descend to the bottom of the gorge on the right, and to ascend along its bed. This I proceeded to do. Just before reaching the bed of the gorge I was exposed to view, and was walk- ing fast or running to get the advantage of its friendly cover. When within about fifty yards of the bottom, and with my at- tention directed to the bear about half a mile away, a large grizzly forced himself on my attention by rising from his bed in the bot- 216 Nights with the Grizzlies tom of the gulch. Walking slowly away, he commenced ascending diagonally the op- posite and steep side of the gorge. The old rascal during the heat of the day had dug a resting-place in the cool bed of the branch, was taking his siesta, and evidently resented being disturbed. From the sullen way in which he made off, occasionally looking back, I felt he was going to be ugly. Quicker than it takes to write it, I had two car- tridges in my right hand, which, with the one in the rifle, were thought sufficient, for at that time the size of the beast was not re- alized. The cartridge in the rifle was a 110- 270-grain express, and those in the hand r1o- 270-grain and 110-340-grain respectively, all express-balls. While making these preparations, the bear, going diagonally up the side of the gulch, had disappeared behind a huge conglomerate boulder that overhung the stream. Seeing he must soon emerge, I dropped on my right knee and stood ready to fire at the first favor- able opportunity. In a moment he emerged from behind the boulder, walked up a short distance, stopped and looked back, exposing 217 American Big-Game Hunting his left side to rather more than a quartering shot. Aim was quickly taken for his heart. A report followed, and the little express- ball did its work well. It broke two ribs, three or four large fragments entered the heart, and the balance of the splinters scat- tered through the lungs. Making but little noise when hit,—an ugly sigh,—he, as this species of bear almost always does under like circumstances, tucked his head between his hind legs, and rolled down into the gulch, using his fore legs for guides. He came up with a bounce, was on his feet in a moment and mak- ing arush straight for me. I had loaded in a jiffy with the other 110-270-grain cartridge, but waited a moment until he commenced as- cending my side of the gulch, hoping with a good shot to roll him back. Crossing rapidly the bed of the gulch, he was in a moment ascending toward me, and when within about thirty yards (he was originally about seventy yards at the first fire) I fired at his front, hitting at the point of the right shoulder, shattering the socket-joint and that bone half-way to the elbow. He did not roll back, but was demoralized and sickened, 218 Nights with the Grizzlies and had not the sand to come further, but changing his direction to the left about forty- five degrees, passed within twenty yards of my right front. I was loaded and ready for another shot as he passed. He appeared so near done for, however, that I hesitated to fire, wishing to have some practice on him for my two young dogs Bob and Snip, which had never seen a live bear. He, however, seemed, after passing, to mend his licks so fast that I feared he would give trouble in de- spatching him, so I ran rapidly after him, he in the mean time having partially dis- appeared under the bank; and when within fifteen or twenty yards he turned at bay, facing me. Before he could charge, if such was his aim, the 110-340-grain cartridge was delivered into the side of the neck within the collar-bone, making a fearful wound, and roll- ing him down into the gulch, where he soon died. It was only after my man had come up and the bear had been rolled over that his dimensions and the danger I escaped by the little ball doing such execution at the socket- joint were realized. Had it struck an inch and a half to the left, he would have been on 219 American Big-Game Hunting me in a few more jumps; and though another shot would have been given, I think, unless it had been a paralyzing shot in the brain or spinal column, he could have so torn and la- cerated me as to make death preferable. I have been in half a dozen scrapes of more or less danger with these bears, but have never lost my presence of mind until they were dead, and the danger passed through realized. I have always determined never to run, but to face them and fire away, believing that the least sign of fear gives any animal additional courage. I had an adventure similar to this with a she-bear that had been approached within fifty-seven yards. It was a bright moonlight night, and her cub was squalling in a beaver- trap by her side. A good shot was delivered over the heart. Three shots were discharged as she rushed forward, first by myself, then one from Le Corey, who was backing me, and then another by myself; and when the “racket” was over, the bear was lying dead twelve yards from us. All these shots were bull’s-eyes and deadly. In this case I could not have run had the spirit moved me, as 220 Nights with the Grizzlies from a serious accident I had been on crutches or my back for twenty-four days, and hobbled up the mountain in this instance with the help of a crutch and a stick, Le carrying my rifle. A familiarity with all the breech-actions of the day, together with an extended experi- ence with the Sharps system, has convinced me that the latter system, in safety, facility, and rapidity of manipulation, is not equaled by any. Take the next best, the double- barreled rifle: only two shots could have been delivered in the two before-described adven- tures. I have never had sufficient confidence in any of the repeating rifles to use them against dangerous game, when so much better could be had. Their want of power, their facility for getting out of order at the wrong time, especially when rapidly manipu- lated, combined with the fact that their ra- pidity of fire is very little greater than a system like the Sharps, are the considera- tions that have influenced me. In my opinion there has not yet been invented a repeating apparatus that is equal, under all circum- stances, to the human hands in connection with a good breech system. 221 American Big-Game Hunting A better idea of these bears can be had from measurements than from weight. The bear first alluded to was a very large one (one among three of the largest ever killed by me), and, judging by one killed and weighed subsequently, he probably weighed 600 pounds, though not fat. His length, as he would have stood, was 6 feet 10 inches. Measurements show that he could have stood erect on his hind feet to the height of 8 feet. His head was 18 inches long by 12 inches wide; his hind foot 11% inches by 6 inches; fore foot, without the toes, 7 by 6 inches. His forearm, after being skinned, measured 18 inches around; his skull, which is preserved, 15% inches by g inches. The tusks pro- jected from the gums 156 inches. With the 45-caliber rifle used, I have killed nearly 40 bears —all, with the exception of this one, with a 340-grain express-ball. This 270-grain express bullet was a 44-caliber used for several years on deer from a 44-caliber rifle. It did very good work in this instance, but for a large bear the heavier ball is prefer- able. The 270-grain ball flies remarkably true for its weight. 222, Nights with the Grizzlies In the process of skinning the bear, it was found that this was not the first encounter he had had with mankind. In the muscles of the neck, and of the right fore leg above the elbow and next to the bone, were found four rifle-balls, and a large fragment of another ball. The wounds had healed up, and each ball was inclosed in a sac with the appear- ance of having been there several years: one 42-caliber 205-grain lead ball lay in the muscles of the neck, another of same cali- ber and weight, two 50-caliber 375-grain lead balls, and the large flattened fragment of a ball were in the muscles of one fore leg next to the bone. The 42-caliber balls I judged were fired from a ’66 model, 44-caliber Winchester, and as all the balls were little battered and did not shatter the bone, they must have been fired from a rim-fire car- tridge; all the balls were cannelured. The bear I was after when this one was stumbled on, took to his heels and dis- appeared rapidly over the mountain after the second shot. We went for the first one seen, but the dogs getting the wind of him, and having a taste of bear’s blood, igno- 223 American Big-Game Hunting miniously “broke” and stirred him up. We chased him on horseback and afoot for three quarters of a mile, but did not get near enough to get in an effectual shot. The dogs, that had never before chased a live bear, could run alongside of him, but did not take hold. Probably you or I would have done the same thing under the circumstances. Haying-time cut short this hunt. A short time afterward one of my neighbors com- plained of the depredations of bears among his thoroughbred cattle, having recently lost two yearlings. I suggested that if he would furnish the medicine in the shape of a car- cass, a repetition of such business might be stopped. ide agreed, and I at once cecone noitered the locality and selected a point in the valley of a small mountain stream, where he promptly had the carcass planted. An almost daily inspection was made of the medicine, but not until the morning of the seventh day were there any indications of its being disturbed. Promptly on hand at five o'clock that evening, I was rather incau- tiously approaching under cover of a slight rise of ground and the sage-brush, and had 224 Nights with the Grizzlies gotten within 150 yards, when a dark object that to my startled imagination appeared ten feet high, and proportionately broad, appeared to rise out of the earth. Recognizing the situation at once, I rose up offhand and pulled, but the firing-pin failed. This had never before happened under such circum- stances, and only half a dozen times in the rifle’s history, for want of attention to the firing-bolt. The bear gave me time to cock and fire, but as no answering “baw!” came, the shot was evidently a miss, resulting from my being “put out” by the previous mishap. He was rapidly followed to the edge of the willow swamp (about 150 yards), through which the trail passed, where he was seen, evidently unwilling to forego his evening meal. He quickly sat up, made me out, and at once disappeared before a shot could be delivered. I gave him up for the time, very much discouraged at failing to bag such a large grizzly. He was evidently a boar, and certainly was not much scared, and from his size and actions I was satisfied he was the one that had stolen my neighbor’s yearlings. The next evening, August 17, I was on hand 15 225 American Big-Game Hunting early; but, acting on previous experience, took a different position on his trail a hun- dred yards from the medicine. The direction of the wind forced me to take position with my back to the brush from which the bear would probably appear. This did not suit me. On first arriving on the ground, a dark object came rapidly down the mountain-side, about one mile up the valley, through an opening. This evidently was a bear, though not apparently as large as my friend of the evening before; and I felt sure he would make his appearance did he not take the alarm. Lying down, protected by some sage- brush, I waited patiently until the gray dusk of approaching twilight, but no bear ap- peared on the scene. Can you recall your feelings-when, as a. boy, you passed through a graveyard at the hour of dusk, thinking, with the poet, ’T is now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world? With what superstitious dread you looked cautiously around, expecting a hobgoblin at 226 Nights with the Grizzlies any moment to rise out of the ground? How every noise—the crackling of a twig—star- tled you? So it is with me when watching on the trail of this bear at such an hour. When occasion requires it, his movement is as stealthy and noiseless as a cat’s. You hear the rolling of a boulder up the mountain-side in the timber several hundred yards away. You know it must be done by some large animal, and you suspect a bear. Presently the same noise, but closer, and your faculties are all on the guz vzve, and you are every moment expecting his appearance. You wait what, to the excited senses, appears a long time. What has become of him? It was, perhaps, a false alarm, and you are dis- couraged; when, presently, there he stands, apparently right on you, and seemingly risen out of the ground. So it was on this occasion, as I lay in the open about thirty feet from the thicket, in a prone position in the grass, clothed in soiled buckskin, with three cartridges in left hand and finger on trigger, ready to rise into a sitting position and deliver fire. Hark! the crackling of brush almost behind me. It 227 American Big-Game Hunting is a moment of intense interest, for I don’t know where he will appear. My attention is kept constantly to the rear and left rear. No more noise. What has become of him? It is getting very dark, and maybe it was a mistake. Presently, there! right on me apparently, but really fifty yards to the left rear, stands a black mass that must be the bear. I rise cautiously to a sitting position, and as he stands, looking wistfully up toward the old horse, I pull away at his side. The report is followed by a suppressed bawl, and he rolls over. I am loaded in a moment and waiting to see if he regains his feet. He does not, and it is unnecessary to fire. I walk up to him with finger on trigger at a ready, but the death-rattle is in his throat, and another shot is unnecessary. He turns out to be a black bear with a very black coat, and pretty well furred. He is dressed as quickly as possible, for it is now dark, and quite six miles to quarters, over a trailless mountain. A walk of half a mile to my horse Pike, and then as rapid a ride home as circumstances will admit, wind up the even- ing’s adventures. I am well satisfied, but 228 Nights with the Grizzlies know I have not yet gotten the right one, the ‘‘calf-killer.7 Rush skins and attends to the hide the next morning, and before sundown I am again on hand. The old horse is fast disap- pearing, and it is desirable to lose no time. Position is taken this time a little nearer the trail. In coming out from the willow-brush it passes for twenty or thirty yards through a marsh that is screened, to some extent, by scattering willows on the near side; and my position enables me to see, through these willows, a portion of the trail over which the bear will probably come. Late in the after- noon a storm had passed around the moun- tain, and a strong and favorable wind was blowing. Lying prone among the sage- brush, in a position favorable for observation, with everything at a ready, I wait patiently. Sundown comes; the mountain to the west casts its shadows around. It becomes quite dusky: so much so that I experiment as to whether the fore sight can be seen, otherwise a wad of white paper must be tied over the front sight. This is as yet unnecessary. It is now the witching time when this bear likes r= 22 American Big-Game Hunting to prowl around. The senses are all on the strain as they are directed to the left rear. Just then a dark moving mass flits by be- tween the willows on the trail, and soon emerges in full view, but again to disappear in a slight depression passed by the trail. Heavens, what a monster he seems in the dim twilight! As soon as he disappears I move rapidly and noiselessly forward to within about fifty yards of the trail he has to pass, drop on the right knee, and am ready. He does not come to time, however, and has evi- dently stopped to listen; doubtless remem- bering the first evening’s experience, and be- ing in hearing of last evening’s racket. Has he taken the alarm and gone back? When on the point of going to the left, peering over, and taking a chance shot on the run, his back appears over the sage-brush and he is moving confidently forward, having satis- fied himself there is no danger. At the first favorable opportunity, as he passes through the sage-brush, I deliver fire into his side, a little too high, and he rolls over, but with such a bawl as to indicate he is danger- ous, did he know from what direction came 230 Nights with the Grizzlies the shot. He is soon on his feet, going back on his trail, toward the swamp. Loading quickly, I run forward to intercept him, and find him, after stumbling along 40 or 50 yards, in a sitting position near the edge of the marsh, evidently nearly done for, with his back toward me. A moment’s interval was sufficient to place a ball in the back of his head: he rolls over, and: is soon dead.