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CAMP-FIRES 
 OF A NATURALIST 
 
 THE STORY OF FOURTEEN EXPEDITIONS AFTER NORTH 
 
 AMERICAN MAMMALS, FROM THE FIELD NOTES OF 
 
 LEWIS LINDSAY DYCHE, A. M., M. S., PROFESSOR 
 
 OF ZOOLOGY AND CURATOR OF BIRDS 
 
 AND MAMMALS IN THE KANSAS 
 
 STATE UNIVERSITY 
 
 BY 
 
 CLARENCE E. EDWORDS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1893 
 
t A- 
 
 Copyright, 1893, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
 
 .b. ,./ 
 
WITH A DEEP SENSE OF GRATITUDE 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 
 
 TO A 
 
 TRUE FRIEND, A CAREFUL. CRITIC, AND A WISE COUNSELLOR, 
 
 CHARLES S. GLEED, 
 
 WHO, BY WORD AND DEED, HAS HELPED THE WRITER OVER THE 
 
 ROUGH PLACES AND MADE SMOOTH HIS PATHWAY 
 
 IN PLACING THIS BOOK BEFORE THE PUBLIC. 
 
 252498 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 UNTING-STORIES without exciting ad- 
 ventures and hairbreadth escapes find 
 little favour with the general public, but 
 those who have spent pleasant hours in 
 the woods know that such adventures are of rare 
 occurrence. 
 
 This book deals solely with facts. The adventures 
 of Professor Dyche while collecting specimens of the 
 larger mammals of North America are not of a thrill- 
 ing kind, but they give the life in the woods as it 
 really is. My story is taken from the note-books and 
 diaries of the professor, and not one word has been 
 added to the facts which he has noted, to make the 
 book more interesting or exciting. 
 
 I offer simply a description of the life of a natu- 
 ralist-hunter and of the pleasures of camp life, with 
 a naturalist's explanations of the habits of animals. 
 
 Clarence E. Edwords. 
 
COlSTTETsTTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Nursed by a Squaw— Boyhood and Early Manhood— How 
 an Education was Obtained, 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Old Jim Leatherman's Load — The Storm — Some Experi- 
 ences with Snakes — About Antelope — Useless Tails and 
 Queer Horns — Fight with a Rattlesnake — How Dyche 
 Scared the Tramps out of Camp, 5 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 In New Mexico — Encounter with a Bear — Cold Hospital- 
 ity — The Retired Boston Merchant and his Mountain 
 Ranch — An Able Missouri Liar — The Mule that was 
 not a Mule — Seven Deer with Seven Shots, . . 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In New Mexico — Hunting Bear — Once More at Harvey's — 
 The Same Luck — Camp Bear Trail — The Last Pot-Shot 
 — A Long Chase — In Ambush — Too Much of a Good • 
 Thing — A Monarch Dethroned — What was Done with 
 the Royal Hide, 39 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Making a New Trail— The Storm on the Mountain -Top — 
 Neither Bear nor Elk — A Journey in Utter Darkness — 
 Catching Foxes — Unwelcome Visitors — Brown's Ava- 
 lanche — The Bear was Handicapped — An Experience 
 
 with Ants and Fleas, 57 
 
 vii 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Peculiar Wedding- Journey — Field Taxidermy — A Typ- 
 ical Mountaineer — Big Bear Talk — The Cabin was 
 Looted — A Lost Timepiece — A Great Day for Talking, 76 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 In Indian Territory — A Frontier Fiddler — Life in a Dug- 
 out — Wild Turkeys, Wildcats, and other Wild Things 
 — Surviving a Blizzard — An Indian Dance — An Em- 
 barrassed Professor — Successful Hunting — The Ex- 
 tinction of the Wild Turkey, 97 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 In the Cascades — Extermination of Many Species of Ani- 
 mals — Something about the Rocky Mountain Goat — 
 An Arduous Journey — The Cascades Reached — 
 Wholesale Hunters — In Camp — A Failure, . .118 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The First Big-Hom — How his Skin and Bones were Pre- 
 pared — Habits of the Rocky Mountain Sheep, . . 134 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 End of Sheep-Hunting — How the Sentinel Fell at his Post 
 — A Peculiar Wound — Finding the Noon Hour by 
 Stars — How the Collection of Sheep was Completed, . 147 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 On Kettle River — Okonagan Smith and his Lonely Ranch 
 — The Great Northern Boundary — Trials and Tribula- 
 tions — " Fool Hens " — Through Fallen Trees — An Ar- 
 duous Journey, 162 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 In the Cascades— A Forest Fire— After Rocky Mountain 
 Goats— The First Shot— Down the Mountain— A Suc- 
 cessful Hunter — A Night of Hardships — A Naturalist's 
 Labours, 174 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Peculiar Danger — Four Goats in Four Shots — A Rapidly- 
 Disappearing Tribe — Description and Habits — A Per- 
 sistent Hunter, 190 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 On Kettle River— Two Model Camp Companions— A Royal 
 Deer — Eating Beaver Tails — A Tramp over the Moun- 
 tains — Wolves about the Cabin — Varieties of Deer, . 204 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 At the Lake of the Woods — After Moose — A Plague of Mos- 
 quitoes — Dark Swamps and Deep Rivers — Compensa- 
 tions, 224 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 In the Swamps— Habits of the Moose— The Moose -Call— On 
 the River — Good Shooting Secures a Group — The King 
 of Game Animals— The Naturalist nearly Killed, . 236 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 With the Indians — How Indians Hunt Big Game — The 
 Parallel Trails — Indian Superstitions — A Potent Bev- 
 erage — Moose all "Nickoshin" — Return to Civilisa- 
 tion, 257 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 In Colorado— On the Trail of Elk— A Night in the Snow- 
 Deer, but no Elk — Another Wild- Goose Chase — The 
 World's Fair King— The Last Hunt, . . . .276 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Results of the Camp -Fires— The Specimens Obtained, . 300 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTKATIOIS^S. 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 The Rocky Mountain goat .... Frontispiece 
 
 A comer of the storeroom 1 
 
 A family group 5 
 
 A mule deer buck 21 
 
 As he appeared in the opening 39 
 
 " They are sure good bear knives " 57 
 
 A group of Virginia deer 97 
 
 On guard 118 
 
 Almost despairing 190 
 
 Off for a long tramp 204 
 
 Ready to go home 213 
 
 The monarch of the woods 224 
 
 A mountain king 276 
 
CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Nurse d by a Squaw — Boyhood and Early Manhood — How an 
 Education was Obtained. 
 
 |NE raw March evening, in the early days 
 of Kansas, a covered wagon drawn by 
 oxen stopped on the bank of the Wauka- 
 russa River. In the wagon lay a babe 
 close to the side of its mother, whose illness was so 
 severe that but little attention could be paid to the 
 child. The sturdy pioneer, who had left his Eastern 
 home to make a new one in the West, cheered his 
 wife with a word and placed the child on a bed of 
 grass before a bright fire. Near the spot selected for 
 the camp was the winter village of a band of Indians, 
 and the fire had been hardly started when a number of 
 the red men gathered around the wagon. The con- 
 dition of the sick mother appealed to the womanly in- 
 stincts of the squaws, and tender hands ministered to 
 her wants. The infant was taken from its improvised 
 bed, and soon was drawing a new life from a red 
 breast. For weeks the mother hovered between life 
 and death, and all the while the babe was cared for in 
 the village of the Indians. He thrived, and when the 
 1 
 
2 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 mother was restored to health the baby boy was strong 
 and lusty. 
 
 This babe was Lewis Lindsay Dyche and his life 
 almost began at a camp-fire. With the precocity 
 often seen in pioneer life he seemed to pass from in- 
 fancy to manhood with no intervening period of boy- 
 ishness or youth. All the pleasures of his tender 
 years were combined with business. At the age of 
 nine he was hunting and trapping along the banks 
 of the Waukarussa. His playmates were his dogs ; 
 his playthings were the beasts and birds ; his play- 
 grounds were the woods and prairies and the camps 
 of the Indians. His hard lot and that of his father 
 and mother taught him the value of money. Work 
 was as natural to him as play to ordinary boys. 
 For a five-cent piece he would follow the horses of 
 the sorghum mill all day long, and this money would 
 be hoarded with that received for the furs obtained 
 during the winter's trapping and hunting. 
 
 All this time the alphabet was a mystery to 
 him, and while he was in demand among the 
 neighbors as a worker, he realized that to succeed in 
 life, even among frontiersmen, it was necessary for 
 him to have other learning than that obtained in 
 the woods. At the age of sixteen he was tall and 
 well formed, with the habits and appearance of a 
 man. He had learned the rudiments of reading at 
 the age of twelve, but shame prevented the tall, raw- 
 boned boy from showing his ignorance in the village 
 school, and he advanced slowly in his learning. At 
 the age of sixteen he found that his hoarded money 
 had accumulated until he was the possessor of $600. 
 
OBTAINING AN EDUCATION. 8 
 
 With this he determined to obtain an education, and 
 for three years he studied at the State Normal School 
 at Emporia, Kansas, preparing his mind to receive 
 that higher education which was gradually opened to 
 him. In order to husband his means, he rented a 
 small room and did his own cooking during the three 
 years. Mrs. A. P. Morse, an instructress in the 
 school, took a deep interest in the young man, and 
 gave him many valuable suggestions regarding his 
 mode of study, which helped him over the rough path- 
 ways until he was able to travel them alone. 
 
 In addition to the mild persuasiveness of Mrs. 
 Morse, there came a help of a different nature. Dr. 
 C. R. Pomeroy, that sturdy and resolute president of 
 the State Normal School whose strength of character 
 has impressed so many minds in the West, saw the 
 ambition of the diffident young backwoodsman, and 
 opened to his mental vision such vast fields of re- 
 search that he breathed a new life into the veins of 
 the young man. 
 
 After the three years at the normal school, he, with 
 one companion, went in a covered wagon to Lawrence, 
 where the Kansas State University is situated, and 
 there they camped in a sheltered vale just north of 
 the university buildings. At night they slept in their 
 wagon, and their meals were cooked at a camp-fire. 
 They camped here until the cold wreather drove them 
 to warmer shelter, and then they rented a small room 
 in the city, and there did their own cooking for the 
 remainder of the year. 
 
 While the work at the normal school had been hard 
 because it was strange, here it was hard because 
 
4 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 it was made so by the enthusiast. Night and day he 
 pored over his books, only leaving them when dragged 
 away by his fellow-students, who saw that he was 
 breaking himself down by his close application. But 
 even his recreation was work. He wandered over 
 the fields and along the river, collecting insects for 
 Professor Snow, and became so expert that he was 
 afterward regularly employed by the professor to 
 assist him in making his collection. From this 
 source he obtained a considerable sum of money, 
 which went toward defraying his expenses. 
 
 The university was then in its infancy, and Dyche 
 saw that by properly combining his studies he could 
 master more than one course at a time, and to this 
 end he devoted himself. So well did he apply his 
 vigorous mind that at the end of five years he grad- 
 uated at the head of his class, obtaining two degrees. 
 Nor did he stop here, for when he was preparing for 
 new fields. Professor Snow offered him the position 
 of assistant in his department. Under the guidance 
 of the professor the young man became invaluable to 
 the university, and the chair of anatomy and physi- 
 ology was created and given to Dyche. Later on the 
 branches of zoology, animal histology, the curator- 
 ship of birds and mammals, and the practical work 
 of taxidermy were placed under his direction and 
 guidance, with a corps of assistants. 
 
 The museum of the university, where stands the 
 finest collection of mounted animals in the world, tells 
 how well he has done his duty, and to the story of 
 the incidents and adventures of the young man's life 
 while in search of these mammals the pages of this 
 book are devoted. 
 
,• • • •• 
 • • • «,« . 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Old Jim Leatherman's Load — The Storm — Some Experi- 
 ences with Snakes — About Antelope — Useless Tails and 
 Queer Horns — Fight with a Eattlesnake — How Dyche 
 Scaled the Tramps out of Camp. 
 
 >T was a jolly quartette that rode in old Jim 
 Leatherman's wagon over the prairies of 
 western Kansas, on a hot July after- 
 noon, from Buffalo, a little shipping sta- 
 tion of the Union Pacific Railroad. A casual ob- 
 server would have taken the party for a lot of school- 
 boys out on a frolic, and he would not have been far 
 wrong. The two older boys were the joUiest of all. 
 The younger boys were not quite so demonstrative, 
 yet they, too, were full of animal life and were in- 
 spired by the invigorating air of the plains. 
 
 The old boys called each other Mudge and Snow, 
 while the younger ones were known as Dyche and 
 Dick. At home Mudge and Snow were staid college 
 professors, and Dyche and Dick were students in the 
 institution. While in college circles decorum was 
 duly observed, here on the prairies all four called each 
 other by the most convenient names, and while they 
 are removed from the college atmosphere these 
 names may be sufficient. 
 
 Old Jim Leatherman found his strange load in- 
 comprehensible. Mudge would suddenly break off 
 
 5 
 
6 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 from his rhapsody on the possible skeleton of a 
 plesiosaurus that he expected to find, jump from the 
 wagon, and scurry over the prairie after Snow. Then 
 both would return, triumphant over the capture of 
 some inoffensive insect which the bright eyes of the 
 old boys had detected as they rode along. 
 
 The day thus passed was short to the travellers. 
 Many trophies of the " bug hunters" had been gathered 
 when the wagon halted by the side of a little stream 
 which wound across the barren plain. A lone cotton- 
 wood tree stood sentinel on the bank as a beacon 
 to the party, and Leatherman interrupted a scientific 
 discussion with the announcement : 
 
 "Here's the place and there's your firewood," 
 pointing to the tree. 
 
 The tent was soon pitched, a blazing fire started, a 
 pan of bacon set to frying, and the camp life of the 
 naturalists was begun in earnest. Each had an as- 
 signed task. One got wood, one cooked, and the 
 others arranged the tent and camp-ground. The sun- 
 set presaged foul weather. The whole horizon was 
 banked with clouds. Snow and Dyche took up their 
 quarters in the tent, while Mudge, Dick, and Leather- 
 man spread their blankets on the sand at the foot of 
 the sentinel cotton wood. The four boys sank to 
 slumber, unmindful of the chorus of coyotes which 
 visited the spot to serenade the guests of the plains. 
 
 Deep sleep wrapped the camp in silence when the 
 promise given by the sky at sunset was fulfilled. 
 The sleepers outside were aroused by the advance 
 guard of the rain. In the west there arose a solid 
 wall of ebony. Deeper and deeper grew the black- 
 
THE STORM. 7 
 
 ness which crept up, blotting out the sky. In the 
 middle was a surging, rolling, tumbling mass, from 
 the centre of which flashes of lightning shot forth. 
 The air, which all day and night had been hot almost 
 to suffocation, grew chill. A great calm filled the 
 whole breadth of the plain. A hush was on earth 
 and sky. 
 
 Then the appalling silence was broken. The huge 
 black wave was cut by the vivid lightning, and the 
 earth seemed shaken by the terrible battle of the ele- 
 ments. The muttering thunder increased in tone and 
 volume until all space was filled with the sound. 
 Bellowing, roaring, and crashing it came on, the 
 clouds covering the sky and casting a mantle of 
 blackness over the land that was only broken by the 
 constant flashing of the lightning. The storm burst 
 upon the camp, and with one mighty sweep almost 
 tore the tent from its fastenings. Snow caught one 
 end and Dyche the other, and throwing themselves 
 flat on the ground, they held the cloth close and 
 prevented the wind from getting under. The force 
 of the wind crushed the tent to the earth, broke 
 the poles, and threw the whole party flat. Then 
 the very flood-gates of heaven seemed to be opened, 
 and torrents of water came down. The tent was at 
 the foot of a knoll, and down this the water swept, 
 covering everything with drift, rubbish, and mud. 
 Dry ravines became torrents, and the heavens seemed 
 to send down rivers. For two long hours the storm 
 raged, and then the turmoil ceased. 
 
 Cold and wet, the jolly crowd of yesterday lay 
 almost perishing in the mud which flowed through 
 2 
 
8 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 the crevices under the tent. Morning dawned at 
 last, and one by one the members of the party crawled 
 out. Dyche had suffered most, for he had lain 
 all night at the door of the tent with little cover- 
 ing, and the water and mud had poured over him, 
 chilling him to the bone. Never before had he felt 
 cold as he felt it then. Barely able to move, he got 
 out at dawn, started a fire, and finally succeeded in 
 rubbing sufficient vitality into his benumbed limbs to 
 be sure once more that life was pleasant. 
 
 It took but a short while for the camp equipment 
 to become dry in the sun, and by noon barely a sign 
 of the storm was to be seen on the surrounding 
 prairie. The remainder of this day and several days 
 thereafter were devoted to the search for fossils. 
 One very hot morning Snow said that he desired cer- 
 tain specimens of the snake kind, and wanted the 
 boys to devote the day to collecting them . 
 
 Gathered around the camp-fire that night, all were 
 ready to tell of their adventures and show the tro- 
 phies of the chase. In handling a specimen of rattler 
 Snow was a little careless, and the reptile slipped its 
 head from his hand, fastening its fangs in his finger. 
 It was a small snake, but none the less dangerous. 
 A ligature was tied around the finger and the poison 
 sucked from the wound. After the excitement was 
 over the " game" was displayed. There were whip- 
 snakes, bull-snakes, hog-nosed snakes, rattlesnakes, 
 and racers. The oddest was the hog-nosed snake. 
 It has the appearance and shape of the rattler with- 
 out its fangs. Coiling up, it throws back its head 
 and opens its mouth so wide that its jaws are dislo- 
 
SOME EXPERIENCES WITH SNAKES. 9 
 
 cated, the result being that it is compelled to go 
 around with the mouth wide open until the disloca- 
 tion is reduced. If it bites it does no harm, for it has 
 neither fangs nor poison-bags. 
 
 "Did you ever see a snake sunstruck?" Snow 
 asked, and all but Mudge thought he was joking 
 and kept a discreet silence. 
 
 " I am not quizzing. It is an actual fact that 
 snakes cannot stand the heat of the sun on the sand. 
 Unless they get shelter during the middle of the day 
 they will die. If you will notice, all snakes are coiled 
 up at noon about the foot of a bush or are under 
 rocks. I got one big fellow to-day, a whip-snake. I 
 had him in my net, and laid him on the ground by 
 my side while I rested. In fifteen minutes he was 
 dead. He was sunstruck." 
 
 The campers were in need of fresh meat, and the 
 conversation gradually drifted to hunting. Antelope 
 had been seen every day, in groups of from five to 
 ten, but no attempt had been made to get one, as all 
 the time had been devoted to collecting insects and 
 fossils. The only fire-arm in the camp was an old 
 carbine belonging to Mudge, and it was apparently 
 in such a dilapidated condition that no one cared to 
 risk his reputation by attempting a shot with it. 
 
 " Antelope is the hardest thing on earth to get a 
 shot at, young feller," said one of a party of cowboys 
 that visited the camp, " and you'll find that they can 
 make out a hunter miles away. If there's only one 
 in the band, he'll always keep his eyes skinned for 
 something to get scared at." 
 
 This duly impressed the boys with the idea that an 
 
10 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 antelope had almost supernatural powers, and that it 
 would be an extremely difficult feat to shoot one, es- 
 pecially with Mudge's carbine. Dyche, however, an- 
 nounced his intention of trying to get one, and for an 
 hour endured the gibes and jokes of the whole party. 
 He started early next morning, and late in the even- 
 ing, just as old Jim was beginning to prepare supper, 
 he returned carrying a fifty-pound load of antelope on 
 bis back and dragging the old carbine after him. 
 He was tired, but after a good supper of antelope 
 steak was able to tell the story of the day's adven- 
 tures as they all sat around the camp-fire. 
 
 " I tried all the forenoon to crawl near enough to the 
 antelope to get a shot at them, but they always saw 
 me long enough beforehand to run a mile or two away 
 by the time I started to crawl to them. About one 
 o'clock, a band of seven came down a ravine and 
 went behind a knoll about three hundred yards from 
 where I was sitting. My shoes were off in an instant 
 and I made a rush to intercept the animals as they 
 rounded the knoll. I made a good race, but found 
 that the jarring of my feet on the ground had alarmed 
 the antelope, and I got to the mouth of the ravine 
 just in time to see the seven tawny-yellow creatures 
 racing away about one hundred and fifty yards off. 
 I sent two bullets after them, and in less time than it 
 takes to tell it, those animals were going over the top 
 of a hill fully half a mile away. They stopped on 
 the top of the hill for a few seconds, looking back and 
 evidently wondering what it was that was following 
 them. My blood was up now, and I determined to 
 follow the band. I travelled two miles, and then saw 
 
ALL ABOUT ANTELOPE. 11 
 
 that it would be as profitable to follow the south 
 wind. 
 
 " I knew what would be my portion if I came back 
 to camp without meat, especially since my feet were 
 full of cactus thorns and had been cut and bruised 
 by the long tramp over the sand and rocks. I limped 
 painfully back to where I had left my shoes. I went 
 stumbling along, jumping now and then at the sound 
 of a grasshopper, which suggested the wicked whir of 
 a rattler's tail. As I climbed over a knoll I saw an old 
 buck antelope standing near a dozen or more which 
 were lying sunning themselves. The band was on 
 the top of a hill, and the old fellow who was on guard 
 was standing where he could see the whole country 
 in every direction. I got within half a mile of the 
 antelope without being seen. Two or three members 
 of the band appeared to have their heads in the air 
 all the time. They were evidently guards, and the 
 safety of the band depended on their vigilance. 
 
 " Having had no experience as an antelope hunter, I 
 was puzzled. I did not know how to get near them. 
 Concluding that they were no harder to kill than the 
 animals I had hunted since boyhood, I began a care- 
 ful stalk. Crawling about four hundred yards up a 
 ravine, I reached a spot within five hundred yards of 
 the animals, unobserved. Now there was no ravine 
 in which to crawl, so I chose the best ground I could 
 find and began a snake-like movement up the slope. 
 I accepted anything for cover, ant-hills, bunches of 
 grass, cactus bushes, or even little ridges in the sand 
 made by the wind. In this way I made two hun- 
 dred yards in two hours, and had not been seen. 
 
12 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 " Sometimes the antelope woiild come in such plain 
 sight that I was compelled to lie close to the ground 
 while they were looking my way. I got ahead at 
 the rate of about a foot a minute until I was within 
 two hundred and fifty yards of the old buck on the 
 hill. By lifting my head carefully I could get 
 glimpses of several others, but almost despaired of 
 getting closer, and had no faith in the old carbine 
 for such a long shot. 
 
 " While I was resting and getting possession of my 
 faculties, the animals moved a few yards to the south. 
 I saw, at the same time, that the ground was lower 
 to my left and was traversed by an old buffalo trail. 
 Moving sideways a few inches at a time and hug- 
 ging the ground desperately close, I succeeded in 
 getting to the trail, which entirely hid me from the 
 animals. This was satisfactory to a hunter if noth- 
 ing more. After resting a few minutes I pulled, 
 dragged, and pushed myself along the trail fifty or 
 seventy-five yards, and was now within two hun- 
 dred yards of the band, and had neither been seen, 
 smelled, nor heard. I lifted my head very slowly 
 and carefully some six inches, and could see, through 
 some bunches of grass which grew near my face, the 
 entire band of fifteen or twenty animals. I could 
 scarcely believe my eyes, but there they were in bold 
 relief against the sky — some lying down, others 
 standing at ease, and half a dozen or more fawns 
 running and playing like young colts. 
 
 "I became so interested in watching the move- 
 ments of the animals that I forgot for a while what I 
 was there for. It seemed a shame to fire into the 
 
ALL ABOUT ANTELOPE. 13 
 
 band with that old blunderbuss, but in order to get 
 fresh meat and to put a stop to certain jokes which 
 would be my portion if I returned to camp empty- 
 handed, I resolved to do my best and kill an antelope. 
 I took a long breath and trained the weapon on the 
 nearest full-grown animal, remembering the advice 
 which my father always gave me to 'be sure that the 
 sights are on the gun before you pull trigger. ' 
 
 " I fired, and in less than a second, apparently be- 
 fore the bullet had time to get there, that whole band 
 was in motion. It was a grand sight. In their ex- 
 citement they ran within fifty yards of me, and had 
 it not been for an accumulation of rust, I might have 
 extracted the empty shell and got another shot at 
 them at close range. The spotless fawns had no 
 trouble in keeping up with the band; in fact, they 
 seemed to be playing as they ran along, for they 
 leaped and bounded in the air as if they enjoyed the 
 sport. 
 
 " In less than a minute they seemed a mile away, 
 and in a half -minute more they were out of sight. 
 They impressed me with the fact that they were the 
 proudest, swiftest, and most graceful animals I had 
 ever seen. 
 
 " By this time I remembered that I had shot at one 
 of them, and with a feeling of anxiety I walked over 
 the hill to where the band had been standing. To 
 my great surprise I saw a big old antelope lying there 
 dead. It almost took my breath awaj. I looked at 
 the dead antelope and then at the old carbine, and 
 decided that the old gun was the best shooter on 
 earth. I got my shoes, and lightening the load as 
 
14 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 much as possible, put the antelope on my back and 
 brought it in. From the feeling of my shoulders I 
 think it weighed two hundred pounds." 
 
 It weighed about seventy, but Dyche was tired. 
 
 "Well, now, Dyche, I want you to tell me what 
 you noticed about the animal. You have been study- 
 ing about large mammals ever since I first knew you, 
 and are too much of a naturalist not to have examined 
 the first antelope you ever killed." This question 
 from Snow at first startled Dyche, but after getting 
 over a little diffidence he said : 
 
 " After my first feeling of surprise, I began to look 
 the animal over. It was a fat, barren doe. " 
 
 " A what? " said Dick. " What is a barren doe? " 
 
 " A doe that has never had a fawn, or loses her 
 fawn early in the spring and goes without one for 
 the rest of the summer, is called a barren doe. My 
 attention was attracted particularly to the head, 
 which is much more handsome than that of any of 
 the deer kind. The muzzle was delicately and well 
 formed. It was completely covered with hair, with 
 the exception of a narrow streak between, the nostrils 
 and the bare skin around them, which was vefy black. 
 The ears were small — smaller than those of the com- 
 mon deer, terminating in a point turning inward from 
 the general direction of the ear. The eye was large 
 and dark hazel. I had seen it described as 'black,' 
 'very black,' or 'intensely black,' and I made a close 
 examination to satisfy myself. It was a hazel which, 
 at a short distance, could easily be mistaken for 
 black, but it was not black. The horns were small, 
 not more than an inch long." 
 
USELESS TAILS AND QUEER HOENS. 15 
 
 " What do you know about horns, Dyche? " asked 
 Snow. 
 
 " I am coming to that. The body was short, thick, 
 and heavy, and looked bunchy. This thick, bunchy 
 appearance, by the way, is more noticeable on a cold 
 day. The tail is painfully short, and the question 
 naturally arises, 'What is it good for ?' It is too 
 small for either ornament or use, being less than 
 three inches long. No other American animal has 
 such trim feet. The hoofs are long, slender, and 
 sharply pointed, being ebony black in color. One 
 very noticeable and striking peculiarity of the feet is 
 that there are no accessory hoofs on the back, such 
 as are seen in cows, sheep, goats, and deer. 
 
 "Now as to the horns. The most remarkable 
 characteristic of the antelope is that it has true horns 
 and not antlers, and it sheds these horns every year. 
 Naturalists have been doubtful on this subject for 
 years ; but it is a fact, nevertheless, that such is the 
 case. All species of deer shed their antlers. There 
 is a wide difference between horns and antlers. True 
 horns are seen on cows, sheep, and goats, while ant- 
 lers are found in the deer family. An antler is a 
 pure bony structure growing from the frontal bone 
 of the animal. The males of all species of deer grow 
 their antlers every year. The antler begins to grow 
 in the spring about the time that leaves begin to 
 sprout on the trees, first appearing on the animal's 
 head as a sort of knot or knob, covered with velvety 
 skin. This knob grows very fast, soon being several 
 inches long. It then bifurcates, and two knobs are 
 seen on the end of the protuberance. One of these 
 
16 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 forms the main branch of the antler, while the other 
 is the first prong or tine. The main beam continues 
 to grow and bifurcate until the form of the antler 
 with its many branches is completed, which occurs 
 about the last of August. This is a wonderful 
 growth when it is remembered that the antlers of the 
 elk and moose sometimes attain the weight of fifty or 
 sixty pounds. While growing, the antlers, especially 
 the growing ends, are very tender, and can be 
 whittled with a knife almost as easily as a green 
 cucumber. As it approaches the base the antler be- 
 comes hard and bony in its structure. About the 
 time the leaves of the trees have reached their growth 
 and have ripened, the antlers have also reached their 
 growth and are ripe, as it were. They are now very 
 hard, and although covered with the velvet skin, it 
 does not take long for the bucks to rub them clean 
 by raking them up and down against the trees and 
 bushes and whipping and threshing around in the 
 underbrush. After the velvet has been removed this 
 whipping and threshing process is continued until 
 the antlers are very hard and bear a fine polish. 
 The natural color is white, but this continued rub- 
 bing in the dirt and against the bark and leaves of 
 trees gives them a brown color, as seen on the deer 
 killed in the forest." 
 
 "Well, what is the use of the antlers, anyway?" 
 asked Dick. " They get their growth and then are 
 shed again in a few weeks." 
 
 " I think a buck without antlers would not be in 
 style," was the reply. " The antlers are weapons of 
 warfare with other bucks, and add much to the at- 
 
USELESS TAILS AND QUEER HORNS. 17 
 
 tractive appearance of the animal when wooing the 
 doe. When a buck fights any other animal except 
 another buck he usually uses his feet, but during the 
 rutting season the bucks fight terrible battles. They 
 tear up the earth and break down the trees in their 
 struggles with each other. Sometimes they fight so 
 fiercely that their horns become locked, and they die 
 from exhaustion, becoming prey for wolves. 
 
 "The antlers are usually dropped soon after the 
 rutting season has closed. Common deer, moose, and 
 caribou begin to drop their antlers about the last of 
 December, old bucks shedding them earlier than 
 young ones. Elk usually carry their antlers until 
 March. After the antlers drop off the skin of the 
 head grows over the spot, and all bucks are 'muleys' 
 until the warm spring days start the horns to sprout- 
 ing again. 
 
 " Now I am ready to explain what I said about the 
 antelope's shedding its horns. The part shed is the 
 shell, which is a true horn and grows on the bony 
 horn-core which is never shed. This horn is unique 
 and interesting in several respects. About half-way 
 up from the base is a prong or branch, which is 
 usually rather short. It stands forward, outward, 
 and upward. No other true horn is branched. This 
 peculiarity has given to the animal the name of 
 prong buck, by which it is known to many naturalists. 
 The prong buck sheds his horns in a most remark- 
 able way. The true horn is modified skin, as the 
 antler is modified bone. When the time for shed- 
 ding the horn comes, a new skin begins to grow be- 
 tween the shell and bony core. This core is similar 
 
18 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 to that of a cow and stands up a little beyond the 
 prong. The old horn does not drop off and then let 
 the new one grow as in the case of antlers, but the old 
 horn stays on the core to protect the new one while it 
 is growing. As the new horn-skin develops, a lot of 
 coarse hairs grow from it and penetrate the old horn 
 shell near the base, where it is quite thin. This tends 
 to retain the old shell in place as a protection to the 
 tender horn growing under it. As the new horn 
 grows it produces a hard tip which fits on the end 
 of the bony core, and this hard portion gradually 
 extends or grows down over the bony core toward its 
 base. When the entire horn is hard, then the old 
 horn or shell is dropped off, leaving the bony horn- 
 core covered with the new horn-skin. The new horn, 
 when it first sees daylight, is a queer instrument of 
 defence. Its upper part is a true horn, while the 
 lower part is a thick skin covered with coarse hair. 
 It grows harder and harder all summer just during 
 the period when the true deer have no antlers, and 
 is perfect by the first of August." 
 
 "Well, there's one thing about antelope," said 
 Snow; "its meat can't be beaten." 
 
 "It's all right for a few meals," was the reply of 
 Mudge as he took another mouthful, "but for a 
 steady diet it is not so good as buffalo. It cloys the 
 stomach when you get too much of it." 
 
 Dyche's success induced him to make another trial 
 a few days later, and he went after more antelope ; 
 but late in the afternoon he returned to camp with an 
 immense rattlesnake trailing over his shoulder. The 
 reptile was one of the largest ever seen by any mem- 
 
FIGHT WITH A RATTLESNAKE. 19 
 
 ber of the party, being four feet eight inches long 
 and proportionately thick, resembling a bull-snake. 
 After supper Dyche told his story of the capture. 
 
 " Seeing a band of antelope on the top of some chalk 
 bluffs, I slipped along to get a shot at them. As I 
 went carefully over a ledge I heard something drop 
 behind me, and looked around in time to see this big 
 fellow coiling for another spring. He had jumped 
 at me from a secluded place in the rocks, and missed 
 my foot as I stepped on a projecting shelf. I went 
 up the side of that bluff in a hurry, thinking nothing 
 more about the antelope. I had my insect net with 
 me, and thought he would be a fine fellow to capture 
 alive; so I made a cast, covering him completely, 
 much to his surprise, but I was the most surprised of 
 the two before he got through with the net, for it 
 was hardly a second before the snake had coiled and 
 torn the net to pieces. He struck it viciously several 
 times, and then began looking for me. I dropped a 
 big flat rock on his back, which I thought would 
 crush the life out of him, but he came out from under 
 that rock in a hurry, mad clear through. He struck 
 the rock several times, leaving great green splotches 
 of venom on it. I was considerably worked up my- 
 self by this time, and began pouring such a fire of 
 rocks upon him that I soon put him where he could 
 do no harm. 
 
 " I tried to flag some antelope to-day, but they had 
 been tried before. I saw a fawn in a patch of grass, 
 and as he was a little fellow I thought I could catch 
 him. He saw me and went out of sight like a shot, 
 and I then heard a doe on the slope above me utter- 
 
oJ^-' 
 
 20 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 ing a series of queer squealing, whistling noises. I 
 followed and saw a herd of antelope. As they were 
 in a position where it was impossible for me to ap- 
 proach them unobserved, I thought I would see what 
 there was in flagging. Carefully adjusting my red 
 handkerchief to my gun, I raised it in the air and 
 waited results. As soon as the handkerchief was 
 seen there were a number of whistles, and then the 
 j whole band trotted off and did not stop until they 
 
 ^j)i^ were a mile away." * 
 
 *fth ' Camp was now moved to a spot near Sheridan, on the 
 railroad; but here it was found that eternal vigilance 
 was the price of peace, for the whole country was over- 
 run with tramps. They were so numerous that it was 
 necessary for some one to remain at camp all the time 
 to protect the supplies. This became so annoying 
 that Dyche concluded to try the effects of a scare 
 upon the unwelcome visitors. In the tent was a bag 
 of live snakes, and as a dozen or more of the tramps 
 were lounging around, the camp, Dyche brought out 
 the bag and began taking the reptiles out and allow- 
 ing them to squirm about his body and head. With 
 both hands full he started to where the vagrants were 
 making themselves at home, and was pleased to see 
 that his plan worked well. After that it was onl}" 
 necessary to begin handling the snake-bag to clear 
 the place of tramps. 
 
 The location was found to be undesirable on account 
 of tramps and hydrophobic skunks, and it was deter- 
 mined to move to Colorado, where a few weeks were 
 spent in the Platte Canon, completing the collection 
 of insects. 
 
CHAPTER IIT. 
 
 In New Mexico — Encounter with a Bear — Cold Hospital- 
 ity — The Retired Boston Merchant and his Mountain 
 Ranch — An Able Missouri Liar — The Mule that was 
 Not a Mule — Seven Deer with Seven Shots. 
 
 ONTEZUMA CAMP, on the Gallinas 
 River, in New Mexico, which had been 
 pre-empted for two summers in succession 
 by Professor Snow, was an ideal spot for 
 an insect-collector's camp. He made this his home 
 camp in the mountains and enjoyed life with his 
 family during the summer months in collecting 
 and arranging the various rare insects which abound 
 in that part of the country. Dyche was with him, 
 but the limited sphere of work was irksome to him, 
 and at last the desire to get among big game became 
 so strong that he started on a tramp up the moun- 
 tains with Walter Russ, a student who was on his 
 first collecting trip. Dyche wanted to hunt deer and 
 possibly bear, and Russ thought he could stand it as 
 long as Dyche could. 
 
 A ranch eighteen miles from Montezuma Camp, 
 on the Gallinas River, was the objective point for 
 the first day, and Dyche determined to reach that 
 place by night if it was within the range of human 
 possibility. Under ordinary circumstances eighteen 
 miles in a day is not a long trip, but when it is over 
 
 21 
 
22 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 a country where there is not even a trail, and through 
 a canon where half the time must be spent in getting 
 over rocks and across the river, it will be seen that 
 the task before the two men was anything but a, 
 pleasant one. Dyche carried a forty-two-pound pack 
 and a gun, while Russ had a lighter load ; but before 
 they reached the end of the journey the loads felt as 
 if each weighed a ton. 
 
 Rain began falling a short time after they started 
 and poured down steadily all day, soaking their 
 clothes and making the packs weigh heavier and 
 heavier with every mile traversed. The rain so in- 
 creased the volume of the stream that the slippery 
 poles which served for foot-bridges became unsafe 
 and the travellers were compelled to wade the river 
 thirty-seven times, with water hip-deep. The pour- 
 ing rain had so soaked the travellers, however, that 
 the wading had little effect in increasing their dis- 
 comfort. Russ was tired and ready to give up, but 
 was cheered on by Dyche, who used all his persuasive 
 powers to keep his companion going until they could 
 reach the ranch. 
 
 "While stumbling along, exhausted from their ex- 
 traordinary exertions, they rounded a point of rocks 
 and came face to face with a big black bear. The 
 animal was scrambling around the ledge, evidently 
 trying to keep his feet dry, and was within thirty 
 feet of the two men when they saw each other. The 
 bear rose on his hind feet in an attitude of defiance, 
 missed his footing, rolled over into the stream with 
 a snort of surprise, got up with a double snort of 
 terror, and made a wild rush up the opposite side 
 
 A 
 
ENCOUNTER WITH A BEAR. 28 
 
 of the mountain, sending rocks and mud flying in 
 his haste to get away. Russ made equally good 
 time up his side of the mountain, all the while beg- 
 ging Dyche not to shoot but to let the bear get away 
 if it wanted to. 
 
 Hurriedly cutting the strings which bound his gun 
 to his pack, Dyche got the weapon and shot two big 
 holes through the air up toward the place where the 
 bear was making such frantic efforts to get away. 
 The shots served only to accelerate the movements of 
 both the bear and Russ, and in a minute the bear was 
 out of sight, while Russ stood shivering away up on 
 the side of the mountain. The episode had one good 
 effect. Russ, for an hour, had been begging Dyche 
 to stop and camp, but now he was most anxious to 
 push on, and he hurried up the remaining two miles 
 as if he did not know what fatigue was. He con- 
 tinued to urge more speed until they reached the 
 park in which Johnson's ranch was situated, and 
 only then did he feel perfectly safe. 
 
 Darkness compelled them to feel their way along, 
 and with outstretched hands they groped about until 
 they found a house. A knock at the door brought a 
 man whom they asked for shelter. What was their 
 surprise when they received a short answer that they 
 could get no accommodations there. Not only was 
 admission to the house refused, but even the stable 
 was barred against them. Begging and pleading 
 was of no avail, though the rain was pouring down 
 on them. This aroused Dyche's indignation, and he 
 gave the proprietor a piece of his mind about his in- 
 hospitality which had the effect of causing th^ man 
 3 
 
24 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 to go inside for consultation, and after this reluctant 
 consent was given for them to enter. 
 
 The occupants of the cabin, two men, a woman, 
 and .some children, eyed the visitors with suspicion, 
 and to tell the truth they were anything but reputa- 
 ble-looking citizens as they stood before the big fire- 
 place with their clothes dripping wet and their faces 
 and hands cut and scratched from contact with 
 bushes and rocks on the trail. Dyche noticed that 
 the woman seemed frightened, and to calm her 
 fears he took from his haversack a package of 
 coffee and from his pocket a dollar which he offered 
 her to make him some coffee. This partially dis- 
 pelled the cloud of suspicion which rested upon them, 
 and soon the travellers were making a meal from the 
 cold lunch which they had in their haversacks and 
 the steaming coffee. Securing a place beside the 
 fire they were soon sleeping the sleep of exhaus- 
 tion. 
 
 Next morning Johnson, the proprietor of the ranch, 
 appeared ashamed of his inhospitality of the pre- 
 vious night, and explained that it was not from 
 any desire on his part to mistreat the travellers, but 
 that he was not in good condition to accommodate 
 strangers and felt particularly sensitive on the sub- 
 ject, as he had had a very bitter experience with a 
 party of Englishmen a few weeks before. These men 
 came to his ranch, asking for accommodations, aud 
 put on such lordly airs and found so much fault 
 that Johnson and his wife determined to allow 
 no more such people on their place. When Dyche 
 and Russ came they supposed that it was another 
 
COLD HOSPITALITY. 25 
 
 party of Englishmen and took measures to prevent a 
 repetition of the insults. Johnson said he had been 
 partly revenged on the Englishmen, as a silver-tip 
 grizzly bear had demolished their camp which they 
 had made about a mile from the ranch. 
 
 The Englishmen were there to get a bear and were 
 supplied with all that money could buy in the way 
 of hunting outfits and delicacies for the table. They 
 were great hunters (in their OAvn estimation) and 
 bragged continually about the big game which they 
 had slaughtered. Bear-tracks were plentiful on 
 the mountain, and day after day was spent by 
 the whole party looking for the animals. One 
 night, on returning after a fruitless hunt, they 
 found that the grizzly had shown his American 
 contempt for all things British and had literally 
 captured the camp. It hardly seemed possible that 
 one bear could do so much damage in so short 
 a time. Sacks of sugar had been torn open, eaten, 
 and trampled on the ground ; dried fruit was scat- 
 tered over the whole place ; cracker-boxes had been 
 opened and the contents chewed and stamped in 
 the dirt ; flour-sacks were torn to pieces and the con- 
 tents made into a paste and trodden into the earth ; 
 a hundred pounds of bacon was trampled, torn, and 
 bitten until its usefulness was gone ; a box of candles 
 was chewed up and spewed over the ground ; three 
 sacks of different-sized shot had been torn open, the 
 contents thoroughly mixed and so scattered that they 
 were of no more value ; the tobacco case was opened 
 and several pounds of smoking and chewing tobacco 
 strewed around and mixed with the general mess 
 
26 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 around the camp. Bruin had fully satisfied his ap- 
 petite and then displayed the general " cussedness" 
 of his nature by leaving a universal wreck behind 
 him. 
 
 And how those Englishmen did rage ! They swore 
 vengeance against that individual bear in particular 
 and all bears in general. There was absolutely noth- 
 ing left about the place fit to eat. Going to Johnson's 
 they begged sufficient food to last them until they 
 could send down the mountain for more supplies. 
 They bought a big bear-trap and imported a fine Eng- 
 lish hound and began a campaign against the bear. 
 The greatest loss was the death of the hound, which 
 was caused by the bite of a trade rat. One man was 
 now constantly on guard at the camp while the others 
 searched the woods for the bear. The only indica- 
 tion they ever had of his presence afterward was 
 when he ate up a deer which one of their number 
 killed and left in the woods while he returned to 
 camp for assistance to bring it in. 
 
 The top of the mountain was still seven miles away, 
 and Johnson told Dyche of another ranch there be- 
 longing to a man named Harvey, who could probably 
 give them better hunting-grounds than would be 
 found lower down. This determined the hunters to 
 push on up the mountain. Near the top they came 
 upon a beautiful park, in the centre of which stood a 
 lone, one-roomed cabin. A cow and burro grazed 
 on the luxuriant grass close by, and a man was 
 chopping logs. As the two men approached he rested 
 from his labor and looked at them with surprise. 
 The visitors opened with a friendly " hello ! " 
 
THE RETIRED BOSTON MERCHANT. 27 
 
 "Hello, there, yourselves," was the response. 
 "Where in time did you fellows come from? " 
 
 "From Johnson's ranch." 
 
 " I want to know ! " 
 
 " Is this Harvey's ranch? " 
 
 "Yes; but hoAV in time did you fellows get up 
 here? " 
 
 " Well, we saw burro- tracks leading this way and 
 followed them." 
 
 " I want to know ! Well, you did mighty well to 
 find the place." 
 
 By this time the whole party was seated on one of 
 the logs and the equipment of the visitors fully in- 
 spected by the owner of the ranch, who finally said : 
 
 "Say, what in time are you fellows going to do 
 with those fish-nets? There ain't no fish on the top 
 of this mountain. I have been here going on six 
 weeks and it ain't rained a drop since I came here." 
 
 "Where did you come from, anyway, that you 
 don't know insect-nets? " 
 
 " Well, I want to know ! I heard about you bug- 
 hunters down to Vegas. I wish you would catch all 
 the green-head files. They pester my old cow and 
 burro almost to death." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that a cow and burro can 
 live up here? " 
 
 "Live up here? Why, there's the finest grass up 
 here you ever saw. Look at my potatoes down 
 there ; they were planted three weeks ago to-day. 
 Did you ever see anything like it in your country? 
 It hasn't rained a drop since I came, neither." 
 
 " Is there a good place to camp around here? " 
 
28 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 "Camp? Well, I want to know! How are you 
 going to camp? " 
 
 " Why, we have blankets and ten days' provisions 
 in our packs." 
 
 "Camp? Yes, camp right here in the house," 
 pointing to his one-roomed cabin. 
 
 " We have come up here to collect insects and plants 
 and perhaps to kill animals. We did not come up to 
 inflict ourselves on you or to bother you in any way, 
 unless it might be to get a little milk from that cow 
 now and then." 
 
 " We have the finest milk up here you ever saw 
 and you can have all you want of it. That's about 
 all we do have that's fresh, except air and water. If 
 one of you fellows don't kill a deer pretty soon there 
 won't be any meat on this mountain." 
 
 " Are there many deer on this mountain? " 
 
 " Deer? I want to know ! Why, you can see deer 
 'most any day over on that hillside in the quakin' asp. 
 You can stand right here in the door and see them 
 pass along any morning. They've been shot at sev- 
 eral times, though, and are gettin' kinder wild, but 
 they're here." 
 
 "Can we camp down in that point of quaking 
 asp?" 
 
 " No, you can camp right here at the house, cook 
 at the big fire-place, and sleep in-doors. It gets 
 mighty cold up here at night." 
 
 At this juncture a tall lady, whose bearing was in 
 strange contrast with her surroundings, appeared at 
 the door, saying : 
 
 "High, dinner is ready." 
 
HIS MOUNTAIN RANCH, 29 
 
 " Come in to dinner, boys. We haven't got much. 
 Only been up here six weeks. That's a hard moun- 
 tain to pack stuff up with burros," said Harvey, 
 and the party entered the house. 
 
 A more primitive cabin could hardly be imagined. 
 The furniture, cut from timber, was simply and 
 strangely made. A large fire-place at one end of the 
 room glowed with a bed of living coals. A curtain 
 in one corner hid a pole bedstead, while in the corner 
 diagonally opposite a pole table, at which were several 
 three-legged stools, completed the furniture. A lone 
 window let in light through small plates of mica 
 which had been quarried from the mountain-side. 
 Long poles, overlaid with sod, formed a compact roof 
 and kept out rain and cold. Here with his wife and 
 two boys, Clarence and Allie, Harvey made his home. 
 
 With no apology from Mrs. Harvey, who served 
 the dinner daintily, all sat down to a meal composed 
 of baked beans, Boston brown bread, and coffee. 
 It is unnecessary to say that the tired tramps 
 made the most of it. During the meal it trans- 
 pired that Harvey was an ex-Boston merchant, 
 whose good nature had run away with his judg- 
 ment to such an extent that he finally found all 
 his capital and profits trusted to those who either 
 could not or would not pay, and he was compelled to 
 seek a new life in the West. In his wanderings he 
 reached this spot, and his eyes were so filled with the 
 beauty of the place that he determined to make it his 
 home. Water and grass were there, while trees grew 
 on the hillside. What more did he want? He built 
 his cabin and prepared to stand the heavy snows and 
 
30 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 low temperature which the ranchmen of the valley 
 told him he would experience. To all their tales of 
 woe his invariable answer was : 
 
 " I want to know ! " * 
 
 Dyche and Russ accepted the invitation which was 
 given with such sincerity, and several days were 
 spent searching for rare insects and plants. When 
 a goodly number of specimens had been secured Russ 
 returned to Camp Montezuma with them and Dyche 
 remained at the ranch intending to hunt animals 
 and birds. Harvey's continued talk of the number 
 and apparent tameness of deer gave Dyche a de- 
 sire to obtain a few for specimens and at the same 
 time for a supply of fresh meat at the ranch. 
 With this double object in view he started every 
 morning early and returned every evening with 
 monotonous regularity with the same story to tell. 
 He had seen deer, but just as he got ready to shoot 
 they disappeared in the woods and he could not find 
 them again. At last he went out, saying he would 
 not come back until he got a deer. He left the ranch 
 early with a single biscuit in his pocket for lunch. 
 It was almost dark when they heard three wild 
 whoops away up on the side of the mountain. An- 
 
 * Four years later Harvey's labor had borne good fruit and his mountain 
 home, ten tliousand feet above the level of the sea, had become a favorite re- 
 sort of tourists. The ranch is the highest on the American continent and is 
 peculiarly isolated. Fifty acres are now under cultivation and over a hun- 
 dred head of horses, cattle, and burros graze on the grass of the meadow. 
 Tons of hay, barley, wheat, rye, and oats are raised, and from his dairy he 
 sells many pounds of butter and cheese. Notwithstanding the altitude, 
 the climate is salubrious, and the several log-cabins which he has built find 
 tenants each summer. During the winter he finds that the temperature is 
 rarely below zero, while the snow-fall is light, and the valley is suitable for 
 occupancy the entire year. 
 
HIS MOUNTAIN RANCH, 81 
 
 swering shouts rang out, and the ranch was imme- 
 diately a scene of excitement and bustle, for the 
 signal was understood. Dyche had got a deer. 
 
 "Hurry up there, boys, and get that pack-saddle 
 on old Reuben. Don't you hear that feller hollerin'? 
 He's got a deer, sure !" called out Harvey. 
 
 Away they hurried up the mountain, and at the 
 edge of a bunch of quaking asp they found Dyche 
 standing beside a fine young buck, while at a little 
 distance lay a second equally fine. The deer were 
 placed on the burro and the procession went to the 
 ranch, where they were met by Mrs. Harvey. Every- 
 body was talking at once and no one cared what the 
 other had to say. The hour was late and one deer 
 was dressed and quartered. Harvey showed that he 
 was a good cook himself, and while his wife prepared 
 the biscuits and coffee he broiled the venison steaks 
 over the coals in the fire-place. The hot supper was 
 enjoyed by all, and then Dyche told the story of his 
 day's hunt. 
 
 " I had walked all day without getting sight of 
 anything worth shooting. I was tired and disgusted 
 and was dragging myself home when I reached the 
 bunch of quaking asp and willows, up there. I had 
 been along there several times before but had always 
 gone around the thicket. This time I went through 
 it. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled 
 in. The ground was wet and mossy, but that made 
 no difference. After proceeding about a quarter of 
 a mile in this way I reached a small grassy park in 
 the centre of the thicket. Just as I entered it on one 
 side I saw three deer going out on the other. They 
 
32 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 stopped for a minute at the edge of the timber and 
 my Winchester, which was already pointed that 
 way, was fired at a fine young buck. I took as good 
 an aim as was possible in my nervous state. The 
 buck bounded into the forest with th^ others, and in 
 a second I saw one of the number stop an instant so 
 that I could get a glimpse of his body as he passed 
 between the trees. I shot a second time, taking even 
 more care than at first. The smoke came back in 
 my face and made me very uncomfortable. I walked 
 slowly and carefully across the opening, watching 
 for the slightest movement, but all was still and I 
 could neither see nor hear the deer. I found plenty 
 of tracks and then great spots of blood . Now I knew 
 my chances were good, I went rapidly forward on 
 the trail and a few rods further found the buck lying 
 by the side of a log where he had made his last leap. 
 He was stone dead. I felt like cheering, but restrained 
 myself and began searching for more signs of deer. 
 I thought I might have wounded another and did not 
 like to leave a wounded deer. I followed one trail 
 for about a quarter of a mile, but saw no signs of 
 blood and then returned to the other track. This led 
 me only a few yards and there I found the second 
 deer, shot dead in his tracks. Now was the time to 
 yell, and yell I did, and you know the rest of the 
 story, for you have eaten fresh meat." 
 
 " I want to know ! And this is the finest meat I 
 have ever tasted, too." 
 
 Several days later Dyche again went out with the 
 intention of getting a deer before he returned. Away 
 up on the side of the mountain he was making his 
 
HIS MOUNTAIN RANCH. 38 
 
 way carefully, stepping softly and avoiding stones 
 and twigs in his pathway for fear the noise would 
 disturb the game. At the opening of a beautiful 
 mountain meadow he stood entranced at the picture 
 which was presented to his gaze. At his feet, off to 
 the west, lay "Paradise Valley," as Harvey had 
 named his ranch. Down through a narrow defile in 
 the mountains, as through a golden frame tinged 
 with green, could be seen a picture the like of which 
 had never been limned by painter's brush. Looking 
 over the beautiful valley, all aglow with the beams 
 of the morning's sun, the circling crags of the high- 
 est mountain held in their mighty grasp, in peaceful 
 seclusion, the ideal home of one tired of the world 
 and its constant warfare. Out through the canon, 
 up which the winding trail led, was seen a vast cleft 
 at the foot of which lay a mirror-like lake, reflecting 
 the beauties of hill and dale. The grassy slope led 
 off on either side, and the clusters of fir, spruce, and 
 quaking asp trees formed a living picture in vivid 
 colors. 
 
 While looking at the scene and breathing the 
 pure air which gave him new life, Dyche came upon 
 a large doe. The startled animal was hurrying across 
 the open ground and had just reached the edge of the 
 timber, when the gun spoke and she dropped in her 
 tracks with a ball through the shoulders. The vis- 
 cera were removed and the blood wiped out with 
 grass and leaves, and the ranch was reached just as 
 Harvey was preparing to get out of bed. At the 
 word " deer" the ranchman was half out, and before 
 the word " killed" was uttered he was dressing. 
 
34 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 " I want to know ! Another deer ! Clare, get old 
 Reuben and bring him up here in a hurry. We'll go 
 right after that deer. Rhea," calling to his wife, 
 " Dyche has another deer. Don't it beat time ! Say, 
 Rhea, give us an extra mess of that venison this 
 morning. Well, I want to know ! If he didn't bring 
 the liver with him ! Cook a good lot of that too. 
 How far is it? Just think of it, Rhea, just up here 
 at the head of the meadow. Three deer killed almost 
 within a quarter of a mile of the house. This is the 
 country for me. They wouldn't believe it if I should 
 write it back to Boston." 
 
 Clare brought up old Reuben, and while Mrs. 
 Harvey cooked the venison the deer was brought down 
 from the mountain. The old doe was a good load 
 for the burro and much trouble was experienced in 
 making the contrary brute carry it down safely. 
 How that breakfast was enjoyed ! The long morning 
 tramp and the bracing air sharpened the appetite, 
 while the savory venison, flanked on either side by 
 hot gems and washed down by such coffee and cream 
 as can only be obtained at Harvey's ranch, made a 
 meal not easily forgotten. 
 
 Dyche now had two young deer, buck and doe, and 
 an old doe for specimens, but the mountains had too 
 great a charm for him and he could not leave them. 
 The early morning hunts and the trailing of the deer 
 through the woods were too great a pleasure to be 
 soon foregone. A few days after killing the doe a 
 rain fell just at the dinner-hour and continued for a 
 few minutes after. When it cleared and the sun 
 came out Dyche took his Winchester and started up 
 
^iV ABLE MISSOURI LIAR. 86 
 
 the side of the mountain. Trees and grass were heavy 
 with water and he was soon soaking wet. While 
 going carefully through the underbrush, making as 
 little noise as possible, he was suddenly startled by a 
 noise about twenty-five yards in front of him. A 
 deer jumped out and ran with long bounds for about 
 fifty yards, when it stopped and looked back. Just a 
 small portion of the back was visible through the 
 underbrush. Taking careful aim he fired, and mak- 
 ing his way through the bushes found that he had 
 broken the back of a doe. Her hair was in fine con- 
 dition and in everyway she was a splendid specimen. 
 The old signal-yell was given, and answering shouts 
 came up from the valley as Harvey and the boys 
 with Reuben hastened to get the quarry. 
 
 As Harvey had occasion to go to Las Vegas, Dyche 
 sent a good load of venison to the party at Camp 
 Montezuma. At Las Vegas Harvey picked up a 
 man who said he was a Missourian and brought him 
 along to work for the summer. According to the 
 Missourian 's story, he was the greatest deer-hunter 
 that ever lived. He had killed twenty-five the win- 
 ter before. Twenty-four of them were shot through 
 the heart. One of them, a big buck, had been out of 
 sight except the head, and its neck was broken just 
 back of the ears. So many stories like these were told 
 by the Missourian that Dyche and Harvey took him 
 out on the mountain to hunt deer. Passing down a 
 meadow with the Missourian about two hundred 
 yards ahead, two deer suddenly jumped up some 
 forty yards in front of the deer-slayer. They stood 
 looking at him and he returned the stare. At last 
 
36 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 thej^ got disgusted and moved slowly off into the 
 woods. Harvey and Dyche rushed down to the spot 
 and breathlessly asked : 
 
 " Why in thunder didn't you shoot at those deer?" 
 
 "What deer?" 
 
 " What deer ! Well, I want to know ! Didn't you 
 see them two deer at the edge of the brush?" 
 
 " I didn't see any deer." 
 
 " Well, I want to know ! I guess you had it bad. 
 They looked you right in the face and waited for you 
 to shoot. You'll never get another such chance." 
 
 The alleged deer-slayer was the target for so many 
 jokes about the affair that he never again mentioned 
 his hunting qualifications. 
 
 Dyche now concluded to extend his field of opera- 
 tions, as he had hunted thoroughly over the ground 
 in the vicinity of the ranch. With this end in 
 view he went about four miles over the mountain 
 into another natural park. Mexicans had built a 
 slight inclosure and kept their animals during the 
 summer up in the park. There were at the time 
 about a dozen horses and mules in the inclosure. The 
 Mexicans rarely visited the place, and it was as wild 
 as any part of the country. While following the 
 fresh trail of a deer, Dyche suddenly came upon an 
 animal standing in the brush. After a long exam- 
 ination he thought that it was a mule. Going a little 
 closer he made another examination and was almost 
 sure it was a mule. He walked slowly nearer and 
 could see part of the side and one leg. He was now 
 very sure it was a mule and walked boldly forward 
 to within thirty yards of the animal, which suddenly 
 
SEVEN DEER WITH SEVEN SHOTS. 37 
 
 gave a great bound and went crashing through the 
 woods, making a noise like a herd of cattle. In a 
 very few minutes it was out of sight, and Dyche real- 
 ized that he had missed an opportunity of getting a 
 fine bull elk. He followed it seven or eight miles, 
 but overtaking that elk was out of the question, 
 so the hunter returned to the ranch and spent several 
 days meditating upon his loss. 
 
 An old Virginia buck deer ranged through the 
 jiountains and had been seen several times ; but he 
 had been hunted, and it has not yet been chronicled 
 if there is anything wilder or more tricky than a 
 Virginia deer that has been hunted. This old fellow 
 in particular seemed to be equal to all the snares and 
 traps laid for him. One cool, frosty September morn- 
 ing Dyche carefully made his way through the woods 
 frequented by this particular deer. While skirting 
 along the edge of a piece of timber he espied a mov- 
 ing object across the opening. It was about half a 
 mile awp.y, but he could see that it was a buck. It 
 had its head high in the air and was on the lookout 
 for danger. His general direction lay down a ridge. 
 Dyche crawled to a point where he calculated the 
 animal would pass. It was cold, and this with his 
 nervousness put Dyche in a tremble. Minute after 
 minute went by and no deer came. He was just 
 about to give it up, when the deer appeared in a 
 bunch of quaking asp about eighty yards away. He 
 had deserted the ridge and was hiding in the thick 
 woods. Hardly daring to breathe, Dyche trained the 
 gun toward the old fellow, when something attracted 
 the animal's attention and it gave three or four great 
 
88 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 bounds with its head high in the air and stopped, 
 stone still, listening. Then the rifle spoke and the 
 buck crashed through the woods at full speed, but he 
 was jumping high. Soon he came to the ground in 
 a heap, and the signal-yell brought the hojs and 
 Reuben and the finest specimen of the trip was taken 
 to the ranch. With seven deer killed with seven 
 shots, Dyche was now ready to return to his duties 
 away from the woods, 
 
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 As he appeared in the opening. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 lu New Mexico — Hunting Bear — Once more at Harvey's — The 
 Same Luck — Camp Bear Trail — The last Pot-Shot — A 
 Long Chase — In Ambush — Too Much of a Good Thing — 
 A Monarch Dethroned — What was Done with the Royal 
 Hide. 
 
 »T was under greatly changed conditions 
 that Dyche climbed the trail leading to 
 Harvey's ranch, a year after the inci- 
 dents related in the last chapter. He 
 now knew what to expect in the way of game and 
 went well prepared for the summer's campaign. He 
 had given the subject much thought during the win- 
 ter months, and this time he was after bears. For 
 his companion he had a student who displayed nerve, 
 endurance, and tact — three indispensable attributes of 
 a good camper and collector. 
 
 It was early in June when Dyche and Brown left 
 Las Vegas and took the old trail up the Gallinas 
 River. The day was fine and travelling good, and 
 they reached Harvey's home in good season. Dyche 
 was little prepared for the change which had been 
 wrought in the mountain ranch. Harvey had util- 
 ized every moment, and now in place of the little 
 one- roomed cabin there stood an imposing log-house 
 with shingled roof, a log-barn partly up, and the ex- 
 Boston merchant had prepared five acres each for 
 4 39 
 
40 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 oats and wheat, while two acres were in potatoes. 
 His herd of one cow and burro had increased until 
 he had several of each kind. Substantial furniture 
 replaced the pole table, bedstead, and stools, and to 
 crown all there was a large cooking-range in the 
 kitchen. As all these additions had been transported 
 up the narrow trail on the backs of burros, it was 
 always a mystery to Dyche how the stove had been 
 brought in. The two old-fashioned fire-places gave 
 to the whole a home-like appearance which brought 
 many pleasant memories to Dyche. 
 
 As the naturalists neared the ranch they saw 
 Harvey at work in his field, and Dyche gave the 
 signal-yell which had been used last j^ear to notify 
 the ranch of the death of a deer. As the sound 
 reached Harvey he gave a jump and sent back the 
 answering yell, while from the house rushed the boys, 
 and even old Reuben recognized the sound and added 
 his sweet voice to the general clamor. They came 
 pell-mell down the trail, with Reuben bringing up 
 the rear ; and Dyche was soon surrounded by the trio, 
 each trying to shake his hand and all talking at once. 
 
 "There's not been a deer killed since you left here," 
 said Harvey. " Beaty and his partner have a cabin 
 up here above the meadow, where they are mining 
 mica. They have been hunting deer and hunting 
 deer all winter and got nothing. I guess they have 
 either run them all off or made them so wild that 
 you won't be able to get one. I've been telling them 
 how you got one at every shot and whenever you 
 wanted one." 
 
 " Well, we'll have something better this year. I've 
 
ONCE MORE AT HARVEY'S. 41 
 
 got a new gun, a regular bear-gun. It's the old 
 reliable Sharp's rifle." 
 
 " I want to know ! " 
 
 "Yes. We are going to have bear-meat this 
 year. " 
 
 " I want to know ! I saw bear-tracks down below 
 the meadow not over a week ago, and not a month 
 ago one ate up my calf that died. There are bear 
 here. Beaty and his partner have been after them, 
 but they get nothing." 
 
 Dinner was soon ready and all went into the house 
 to attend to the inner man. Reuben was a privileged 
 character, but Mrs. Harvey let him understand that 
 his privileges ended, at the door of the house, and he 
 stood near the step chewing an old dish-rag which 
 had inadvertently been left outside. The most 
 noticeable change about the place was on the table. 
 Plates, knives, forks, spoons, and dishes were there, 
 and they were set on a fine extension table. But 
 when the viands were spread there was something 
 which could not have been changed — that freshness 
 and flavor of the wilderness which brought back such 
 a flood of memories to Dyche that he could scarcely 
 finish the meal, so anxious was he to get out again 
 among the quaking asp and fir. 
 
 After dinner Brown went back down the trail with 
 a train of burros to get some articles which had been 
 left at the foot of the mountain. Dyche unstrapped 
 his new rifle and wandered off over the old familiar 
 hills. He cared little for the game he might find. 
 His whole being was filled with the joy which comes 
 only to those who have roamed over the fastnesses 
 
42 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 of the mountains in perfect freedom — a thing of 
 which the naturalist hunter alone can boast. 
 
 Just as the sun was going over the western range 
 the sharp crack of a rifle was heard in a willow 
 patch up on the side of the mountain, and this was 
 soon followed by the familiar shout. When the 
 gunshot was heard Harvey could hardly wait for the 
 signal, and he yelled to the boys to saddle old Keuben, 
 for he was sure Dyche had a deer. When the call 
 came ringing down the hillside pandemonium reigned 
 at the ranch. Harvey alternately sang, danced, and 
 shouted, and then scolded the boys for being so slow. 
 
 " Get on the skillet, Rhea — Dyche has a deer. I 
 knew he would get one. Hurry up there, boys. 
 What in time are you poking along so for?" 
 
 Harvey, the boys, and Reuben were soon at the 
 clump of trees and found Dyche standing by the side 
 of a fine doe. It was carried to the ranch in triumph, 
 Harvey alternately congratulating Dyche and then 
 himseK on the success of the hunt. He was im- 
 patient to let Beaty know of it, and told Dyche that 
 he would not have had that deer missed for any- 
 thing. He would rather have given fifty, yes, a hun- 
 dred dollars than to have missed getting that deer. 
 
 " I knew you couldn't help getting one. How in 
 time did you find him so easy? Beaty never could 
 see one in this part of the mountain." 
 
 "I spent the afternoon wandering around and 
 thinking of the fine times I had last year. I recalled 
 how I had stalked a buck there and had been disap- 
 pointed under that tree; how a doe had once jumped 
 out of that clump of bushes and how I had killed a 
 
THE SAME LUCK. 43 
 
 deer in this opening. I paid little attention to any- 
 thing, but just wanted to breathe the fresh air and 
 smell the fir trees. Just at sundown I reached the 
 edge of that clump of willows and stalked carefully 
 through it, as it seemed a likely place to find game. 
 Away across on the other side I saw something 
 move. Watching carefully I soon made out that it 
 was a deer, and stood perfectly still, while the ani- 
 mal walked out into the opening and began nibbling 
 grass. It was a long way to shoot, over two hundred 
 yards, but I knew if I moved the animal would see 
 me and be off like a shot. I set the sights on *01d 
 Reliable ' at three hundred yards, took the best aim 
 possible, and pulled trigger. When the smoke cleared 
 away I went over and found the old doe with her 
 back broken." 
 
 But Dyche was after bear this year and had no 
 time to spend at the ranch. Three days later, with 
 a string of burros hired from Harvey, the natural- 
 ists started over an old trail to a point higher in the 
 mountains, where man had rarely been. A chapter 
 might be written on the haps and mishaps of that trip. 
 The trail was almost obliterated and the hunters were 
 unused to carrying packs, and the trials and tribula- 
 tions of that journey were quite enough to discourage 
 a man of less persistence. It might be told how the 
 packs would slip, and how the donkeys would go the 
 wrong way at the wrong time ; how they would refuse 
 to cross streams at critical moments, and how one ob- 
 stinate old jenny had deliberately broken through the 
 crust of snow and almost frozen her legs before they 
 could tunnel her out of the deep drift. But bears 
 
44 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 the party must have now. They were encamped in 
 a little meadow which marked a pass between two 
 snow-capped ranges. Each night on the way up the 
 mountain had been full of incident and adventure. It 
 is a story in itself to tell of the terrible wind which 
 blew the dead trees down about the camp during the 
 first night on the trail ; how the monarchs of the forest 
 came crashing down in all directions and threatened 
 destruction to the campers ; how the tent was crushed 
 and the donkeys almost frightened out of their wits 
 by the storm ; how the following night some wild 
 animal, probably a bear or lion, had scared the bur- 
 ros so that they rushed into camp and would not 
 venture out again after grass ; how old Reuben im- 
 proved the opportunity to make a meal of the dish-rag 
 and had eaten half a bar of soap before he was dis- 
 covered and tied to a tree with a very short rope in 
 order that he might meditate on his sins. All things 
 must come to an end, and this trip up the mountains 
 was no exception to the rule. 
 
 Just at dark on the evening of the third day camp 
 was made in a little mountain meadow, and when 
 daylight came next morning they saw that the place 
 could not have been better chosen. Within seventy- 
 five yards of the tent was a well-worn bear trail, 
 where the brutes had passed from one mountain to 
 the other for years. The place was christened 
 " Camp Bear Trail," and preparations for an extended 
 hunt were made. 
 
 There was no doubt that there were plenty of bears 
 in the vicinity, for their trails could be seen all 
 about the place. So confident were Dyche and Brown 
 
THE LAST POT-SHOT. 45 
 
 that they would soon get a bear that they contented 
 themselves with bacon rather than risk scaring away 
 the big game by a shot at a grouse or deer. Every 
 night the burros were brought into camp and tied 
 for fear they would fall a prey to bruin. In a few 
 days the novelty of the situation wore off and Dyche 
 killed a deer, not caring whether the shot scared a 
 bear or not. He went out on the side of the moun- 
 tain to look for meat, carrying his big Sharp and a 
 number 10 Colt shot-gun so that he would be ready 
 for anything. Hearing a noise in a clump of wil- 
 lows his blood almost boiled with excitement, for 
 from the noise he was sure that a bear was coming. 
 Suddenly the bushes parted and a big mule deer buck 
 trotted out into the opening with head up and ready 
 to jump at the slightest sound. He was on the steep 
 hillside fifty yards above Dyche, who sent a load of 
 buckshot into him and the animal rolled down to 
 within thirty feet of his slayer. 
 
 Bear-trails were followed day after day without 
 ever seeing or hearing anything of the animals. An 
 ambush was laid for a deer which came to the little 
 lake every evening for water. While lying in wait 
 a band of the animals came down to the water's edge 
 to drink. When they were well bunched and not 
 over seventy-five yards away, Dyche discharged " Old 
 Reliable," and as the frightened deer ran he fired 
 three more shots after them. When the smoke 
 cleared away he found that he had done that which 
 no true hunter feels proud of. He had allowed his 
 excitement to get the better of his judgment, and 
 there, as the result of his four shots, lay six fine deer. 
 
46 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 Four had seemingly been shot through at the first 
 fire. Dyche was asliamed and almost vowed to give 
 up hunting on account of the unwarranted slaugh- 
 ter. He made all the amends in his power, and 
 every pound of meat and all the skins were saved. 
 Brown went down the trail to Harvey's with the 
 meat. In his whole hunting experience thereafter 
 this served as a good lesson. He never again shot 
 at random into a bunch of animals, but always 
 singled out the one wanted for meat or a specimen. 
 
 The first night after Brown went down with the 
 meat a big bear passed along the trail, leaving a 
 track as big as a peck measure. Dyche resolved to 
 see where that bear went if it took all summer. 
 With a light lunch in his pocket, a thin rubber 
 blanket, some matches, a hatchet, his rifle, and seven- 
 teen cartridges he started on the campaign. The 
 trail was fresh and the bear did not seem to know 
 that he was followed. He went swinging along, 
 leaving a trail that could be followed on the run. 
 Here he had turned over a log and there he had 
 scratched up the earth looking for roots and tender 
 shoots. He wandered around in an apparently aim- 
 less manner, and Dyche followed every track. Here 
 a stream had been crossed and the water was still 
 muddy where the big fellow had stopped to wallow. 
 The trail led into a deep fir forest and it was almost 
 dusk under the trees. The pines interlaced at the 
 top and the ground was covered with a thick bed of 
 needles, shredded fir-cones that had been opened by 
 squirrels looking for the seeds, and leaves, which 
 formed a carpet in some places three feet thick. In 
 
IN AMBUSH. 47 
 
 this mass of debris were found many bear beds, 
 where the animals had scooped out great hollows and 
 made comfortable sleeping-places. Night settled 
 down and Dyche was at last compelled to give up 
 the chase. He had travelled fully fifteen miles over 
 the mountains and through the forest, and was so 
 tired that he did not think of returning to camp, but 
 finding a sheltered place on a large projecting rock, 
 he spread his gossamer blanket as a wind-break, and 
 on a bed of spruce and fir boughs, with a blazing fire 
 at his feet, he tried to sleep. He was tired, but sleep 
 would not come. He would fall into a doze and then 
 wake with a start from dreaming about a fight with 
 a big grizzly, and would alternately doze and build up 
 the fire until morning came. At early dawn he 
 started back to the home camp, and the day was 
 spent resting. 
 
 Awaking from a refreshing sleep next morning, 
 Dyche saw where a bear had come over the trail, 
 and, to show his contempt for the hunters, had wal- 
 lowed in the spring from which they got their drink- 
 ing-water. Brown returned with mail and provisions 
 from Harvey's and a council of war was held. It 
 was decided to make an ambush and wait until the 
 bear again went over the trail and then kill him. 
 He evidently passed along in the night, and a plat- 
 form was built in a tree near the trail. 
 
 Darkness found Dyche safely ensconced on the 
 platform, prepared for an all-night's siege. A heavy 
 overcoat was supplemented by a blanket and a trunk- 
 strap secured him to the tree in case he should fall 
 asleep. The rifle and shot-gun were within easy reach, 
 
48 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 and it would have been a bad night for a bear had 
 one come across the trail. All night long, shivering 
 and longing for daylight, Dyche sat there, but never 
 a sound of bear was heard. The stillness was horrible. 
 Not an owl hooted and not a twig was snapped by 
 fox or wolf. The twittering of the early birds at last 
 announced the approach of day, and Dyche crawled 
 down, cold and benumbed, and made his way to 
 camp, where a hot breakfast soon reinvigourated him. 
 Again and still again was this ambush laid. A band 
 of deer went over the trail, and then a fox came and 
 smelled the bait but did not touch it, and a wildcat 
 came along and clawed around, but went on without 
 going near the bait. Dyche let them all go, as he 
 did not want to shoot and run the risk of scaring 
 away a bear. But no bear came. Soon after sun- 
 rise on the third morning Dyche crawled into camp 
 for a little breakfast and then hastened back. The 
 bear had been there during his absence. The old 
 fellow evidently came along a few seconds after 
 Dyche left, for he had eaten the whole of the bait 
 which had been left near the trail, and then had 
 scratched up the earth near by. To nish the per- 
 formance he had wallowed in the little stream and 
 passed on over the mountain. 
 
 Dyche was tired, sleepy, sore, and stiff, but this 
 was too much for human endurance and he promptly 
 started on the broad trail left by the animal. The 
 bear went along, turning over logs, stones, and 
 stumps, looking for bugs. Here he wallowed in a 
 mud- hole to relievo himself from fleas, and there he 
 scratched up the earth or stretched himself up on 
 
TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING. 49 
 
 a tree. Dyche could not catch up with him, and 
 at two o'clock in the afternoon he returned to camp 
 almost worn out. A big buck jumped from cover, 
 but he let the animal go. A light supper, and a 
 blank until dawn. A hot breakfast restored him, and 
 after a whole day spent about the camp he felt like 
 going on another campaign. A fox and a wildcat 
 were caught in traps and the skins taken care of, and 
 then Dyche started out to look at some traps, expect- 
 ing to be gone about an hour. It was late in the 
 afternoon when he returned, and from the flush in his 
 face and his general excitement Brown knew that he 
 had seen bears. Dyche had had a most wonderful 
 adventure, and was so wild over it that he could 
 hardly wait until after supper to tell his story. 
 
 '' I got to the fox-traps, and as I was looking around 
 I saw a large bear-trail that was very fresh. The 
 bears had been here, there, and everywhere. The 
 ground was dug up as if a drove of hogs had been 
 rooting and overturning the logs and stones. 
 There must have been a herd of them, for paths led 
 through the woods in a dozen different directions. 
 I took a large circuit in order to find which way they 
 had gone. I soon found the main trail, which was 
 as easily followed as if a herd of cattle had been 
 along there. It went through a number of grassy 
 parks, down a small stream, up another, and then 
 over a mountain. I followed as rapidly as possible, 
 expecting every minute to see them. They spread 
 destruction in their path. Logs, stumps, and stones 
 were turned over and ant-hills torn to pieces. A 
 choke-cherry patch v^^as stripped of berries and 
 
50 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 leaves. The buslies were torn and stripped and the 
 tops chewed off, presenting a sorrowful sight. I 
 determined to get back to camp and start to-morrow 
 with five days' rations in my haversack, and find 
 those bears or die in the attempt. 
 
 "I wandered along revolving my plans in my 
 mind, and came out of the big woods on a mesa 
 about two hundred yards wide, flanked on one side 
 by a heavy forest, while on the other was a sheer 
 fall of several hundred feet. It was a beautiful 
 place, and I thought it would be an amusing occupa- 
 tion to roll stones down the canon, but was too tired 
 to put the idea into practice. I was walking slowly 
 along, looking now and then towards the woods, but 
 not thinking of seeing anything, when suddenly 
 there appeared at the edge of the timber a number 
 of moving objects. I could not make out what they 
 were, but there was such a number of them I con- 
 cluded they must be goats. Mexicans sometimes 
 bring goats up the Pecos River into this country, and 
 I thought a herd might have been driven out of the 
 regular trail. As they appeared to be coming 
 towards me I waited and soon got another glimpse 
 of them about three hundred yards away. They 
 were among the trees, and the sun through the leaves 
 gave them a spotted appearance which convinced me 
 that they were goats, for many of the Mexican goats 
 are spotted. I could not see the herder and stood 
 perfectly still waiting for them to get nearer. Sud- 
 denly there came out of the forest, directly to the 
 west of me and not over seventy yards away, a huge 
 grizzly bear. 
 
A POSTPONEMENT OF ACTION. 51 
 
 "Before I could realise what had happened, out 
 came another, then a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, 
 and a seventh. Just think of it, seven big bears in 
 sight all at once ! I think there were four more which 
 I saw, making eleven in all in that band. I knew 
 I was in a most desperate situation. On one hand 
 was a bottomless precipice and on the other a herd of 
 the most ferocious animals which range the moun- 
 tains. How the sweat did roll off of my face ! There 
 was only one thing to do, and I did it to perfection. 
 That was to stand perfectly still and let those bears 
 go about their business. I was hunting bears, but 
 not these particular bears. There I stood in per- 
 fectly plain view of those animals, but they did not 
 see me. They were walking fast, and I had a splen- 
 did opportunity to observe their mode of travel as 
 they passed on. 
 
 "I no longer wondered at my not being able to 
 overtake them on the trail. They went swinging 
 along in a sort of shambling trot or canter almost as 
 fast as the gait of a horse. Some would stop for a 
 second at a time, turning over logs and stones, and 
 then hurry on to overtake the band, which moved 
 right along. 
 
 " As soon as they were out of sight in the woods 
 to the southwest of me, I hastened to assure myself 
 that I was still alive and wiped the sweat from my 
 face. I could easily have put a bullet through any 
 of them, but what would have happened then? I 
 might have been set upon by the whole gang and 
 would not have made a fair meal for one of them. I 
 made haste to get into the woods and tried to head 
 
53 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 them off. I wanted to get a shot at them where I 
 could get shelter in the trees if they attacked me. 
 They unintentionally outwitted me, however, and 
 went up a ridge while I was watching a stream." 
 
 "Well, I have a scheme," said Brown. "Let me 
 go back to Harvey's and then down to Las Vegas 
 and get a big bear-trap, and we will get a bear, sure. 
 It will take some time, but it seems that we are 
 spending more time than anything else, anyway." 
 
 " Well, as we need more provisions I guess you'd 
 better make the trip to-morrow, " was the reply, and 
 so it was settled. Brown got an early start next 
 morning and Dyche was left alone. The trip would 
 take about ten days to go and return. Dyche started 
 for the woods to see if he could get another look at 
 his bear herd. 
 
 On the evening of the ninth daj^ after Brown left, 
 Dyche heard the song of a burro down the canon and 
 he hastened to get a warm supper for Brown, who 
 he knew was coming. From the back of old Reuben 
 dangled a fifty-pound bear-trap. Hot coffee, biscuit, 
 and broiled steak were soon smoking on the table, 
 and Brown went ravenously to work on them. 
 
 "This venison is mighty tough," he remarked. 
 " It must have been one of the oldest bucks in the 
 mountains." 
 
 "Take another piece," said Dyche. 
 
 " It will be better after we've had it a week or 
 two," was Brown's comment, as he took an extra 
 tough bite. "What kind of meat is this, anyhow? 
 It's the toughest venison I ever tasted." 
 
 "Maybe it's fox." 
 
A MONARCH DETHRONED. 53 
 
 " Fox nothing. It's more like burro-meat, I should 
 say. I didn't leave any of the jacks here when I 
 went away, did I?" 
 
 Dyche could keep his story no longer and burst out 
 with : "It's bear-meat, man. A regular old grizzly 
 at that." 
 
 "What? got a bear! Well, if this is a piece of 
 him it must have been the one old Noah had in the 
 ark. Well, I'm glad he didn't get you. Where's 
 the skin? How did you get him?" 
 
 " The day you left camp I started out to look at 
 that big trail where my herd went along. I thought 
 there might be some satisfaction in looking at the 
 track if I couldn't see the bears. The trail was a 
 day old, but I followed along without exactly know- 
 ing why. After following it for miles I started back 
 to camp, and reached a grassy slope on the side of the 
 mountain and sat down to rest in the edge of it. 
 There was a willow patch in front, and to the east 
 of me and across from the willows was an almost 
 impenetrable forest of spruce trees. Flowing through 
 an opening in this forest was a little stream which 
 joined another rivulet flowing from the willows. As 
 I sat on a log looking across this stream at the spruce 
 forest I saw something moving among the trees, and 
 from the glimpse I got of it among the spruce 
 branches I thought it was a deer. I watched very 
 carefully, expecting to see a big mule buck step out 
 into the opening. 
 
 " To my great astonishment a huge grizzly bear 
 stepped from the forest at the opening made by the 
 little stream. What a monster he was ! He must 
 
54 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 have been as big as a cow. The wind was in his 
 favour, and getting scent of me he placed his front feet 
 on a log and began sniffing the air. I could see his 
 big head going up and down, and must confess that 
 I felt a little chill run over me. The old Sharp's 
 rifle always seemed so big and heavy before, but now 
 I wished it was a cannon. I took the best aim pos- 
 sible, holding my breath to prevent muscular move- 
 ment, and remembering the advice of my father to 
 always see that the sights were on the gun before 
 pulling trigger, then I fired. The gun belched forth 
 its load with a roar which was echoed by another 
 roar from the bear. 
 
 "Here he came growling, rolling, tumbling, fall- 
 ing, jumping, and bellowing, making a terrific noise. 
 I slipped off my shoes, reloaded the gun, placed a 
 handful of cartridges in the crown of my hat by my 
 side, and waited. I thought the whole gang might 
 appear and wanted to be ready for any emergency. 
 The old fellow came on towards me, and I determined 
 that if he ever crossed that stream I would give him 
 another 520-grain bullet. He would get tangled up 
 in a fallen spruce tree and would tear himself loose 
 in a most wonderful manner. Now he was in the 
 willows, rolling and tumbling and biting everything 
 that was in his way. 
 
 "His strength and activity were simply won- 
 derful. One blow of his mighty paw would have 
 killed the greatest prize-fighter that ever lived. 
 I have heard stories of men killing grizzly bears 
 with their knives, but I don't think it possible 
 for twenty men to have stood before that bear 
 
A MONARCH DETHRONED. 65 
 
 in his death-agony. I could now see him very 
 plainly, and could see that he was covered with blood 
 and was getting weaker and weaker every minute as 
 he came on towards me. Just as he reached the edge 
 of the water he spread himself out on all-fours, and 
 there continued throwing up his head, uttering most 
 horrible groans and guttural grunts, while I sat cold 
 and spell- bound under the great excitement. At 
 last he died, seventeen minutes after he had received 
 a ball which would have been instant death to an ox. 
 Then I got up and went over to where he lay. 
 
 " He was a monster indeed. Not fat but so mus- 
 cular. Streams of blood were running from his mouth 
 where he had broken his great teeth in his death- 
 agony. I was under intense excitement, but I noticed 
 that his legs were black while his sides and back 
 were of a tawny tint. His tail was very short, so 
 short, in fact, that he could not even sit down upon it. 
 
 " It had been raining all day, but I never noticed 
 it as I sat on the log watching the dying throes of 
 the bear. I must confess that I had a pang of re- 
 morse as I looked down at the dead monster. I had 
 at last outwitted one of the giants of the forest, but 
 in his death I had seen the qualities of a grand war- 
 rior. After finishing my examination of the big 
 fellow I turned about and went to camp, leaving 
 him just where he had fallen. I reached the camp 
 at dark, and would have given a good deal if you 
 had been here to share the enthusiasm with me. 
 
 " There was no sleep for me that night. I went 
 over that fearful struggle again and again, and 
 when I dozed off I would wake with a start from a 
 5 
 
56 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 frightful dream of the bear. Next morning I was 
 rested but not refreshed, and after a hurried break- 
 fast I hastened down the canon where I had left the 
 dead bear. It seemed at times as if it might all be a 
 dream — but no, when I got to the spot there he lay, 
 just as I had left him the night before, dead and 
 cold. Having spent about two hours in taking 
 seventy measurements for future reference, I skinned 
 him. I found that the old fellow had been shot be- 
 fore, for there were two bullets about the size of a 
 forty-four Winchester imbedded in his body, one in 
 his hip and the other in the shoulder. My ball hit 
 him fairly in the neck, cutting the jugular vein and 
 passed entirel}^ through the body, coming out about 
 six inches from the tail near the spine. 
 
 " I was almost worn out, but I carried the meat, 
 skin, and head to the big snow-drift and buried them, 
 and dragged myself to camp, where I ate a light 
 supper and then rolled up in my blankets and slept 
 until dawn next morning." 
 
 During the succeeding days Dyche thoroughly 
 dressed the skin. All fat and flesh were removed 
 and the feet skinned down to the very toe-nails, and 
 all ligaments removed from the bones. A prepara- 
 tion of one part alum and four parts salt was now 
 rubbed all over the skin. The feet and head were 
 folded in and then saturated with a strong solution 
 of the mixture. This operation was repeated in 
 twenty-four hours and then again in twenty-four, 
 and the skin was ready to be hung up to dry. 
 
" They are sure good bear knives." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Making a New Trail— The Storm on the Mountain-Top— 
 Neither Bear nor Elk— A Journey in Utter Darkness- 
 Catching Foxes — Unwelcome Visitors — Brown's Ava- 
 lanche—The Bear was Handicapped— An Experience with 
 Ants and Fleas. 
 
 ;FTER several days of fruitless search for 
 more bears, it was decided that the ani- 
 mals had left that particular part of the 
 mountains, and the naturalists concluded 
 to move camp. Cacheing the surplus meat in a 
 snow-drift and packing the camp equipment on the 
 backs of the burros, the little animals were headed 
 towards the north star, and the party went through 
 the woods, making a new trail. They did not have 
 the least idea of where they were going, except that 
 they wanted better hunting-grounds, where they 
 might possibly get bear or elk. It was said in that 
 vicinity that elk had been seen on the ridge between 
 the Pecos and Canadian rivers, and this ridge was 
 made the objective point. Their way led through 
 heavy spruce timber which lined the ridge, and about 
 noon they reached an open mesa on the side of the 
 mountain, which had been burned over. For this 
 reason travelling was difficult and they were com- 
 pelled to cut their way. 
 
 While working through this down timber, two big 
 57 
 
58 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 mule bucks jumped up and started to run, going over 
 and under the logs with remarkable ease. Getting 
 sight of one of the bucks as it was going between the 
 trees about three hundred yards away, Dyche fired, 
 but with no apparent result. Getting another op- 
 portunity he shot again. The burros were left and 
 search made in all directions for the deer ; but noth- 
 ing could be found, and Dyche was just about to give 
 up when Brown, who had gone on about seventy 
 yards farther, shouted : 
 
 " Here ! here ! here's your old buck, dead as a door- 
 nail." 
 
 Pushing on up the mountain, camp was made at 
 dark by a spring on the west slope. This place re- 
 ceived the name of Camp Wild Buck, but, owing 
 to later developments, was named Hungry Canon. 
 Cacheing the greater portion of the venison in a snow- 
 drift the next morning, they travelled three or four 
 miles north until the ridge was reached. This was 
 the watershed between the Rio Grande on the south 
 and the Arkansas on the north, and led towards the 
 Jicorilla Mountains, gradually rising and becoming 
 narrower as it extended above timber-line. 
 
 At one o'clock they reached a high point in the 
 country, and from this place was seen one of the 
 grandest sights in the high ranges. Off to the west 
 was a vast ocean of mountain-tops, the timbered 
 slopes being surrounded by high peaks, running 
 above timber-line. 
 
 The river, winding in the canon far below, was a 
 mere thread of silver among the trees, thousands of 
 feet down. Through a narrow opening of the moun- 
 
THE STORM ON THE MOUNTAIN-TOP. 59 
 
 tains was a view of the plains far to the east, which, 
 with the rough, rock-girt frame, presented a picture 
 as of the field of the cloth of gold. The purple hills 
 made a rich, dark foreground, while the golden sun- 
 light flecked the prairie with the colour of living 
 fire. 
 
 So entranced with the scene were they that the 
 flight of time was forgotten, and when they returned 
 to mundane things they realised that if they wished 
 to camp where there was grass and water, they would 
 have to be finding a way down to timber-line. Spend- 
 ing an hour in this effort, they again glanced at the 
 beautiful scene ; but now all was changed. A mass 
 of clouds, through which lightning played, and which 
 grew denser and denser as it came, was rolling up 
 the valley of the Pecos. Flash after flash could be 
 seen, and then faintly came the sound of thunder. 
 
 The sight was interesting, and as they watched it 
 their attention was called to the other side of the 
 range by an answering reverberation. Looking 
 down the Canadian valley, to the north, they saw 
 another storm-cloud rolling towards the ridge upon 
 which they stood. As the storms approached nearer 
 and nearer they discovered that they would soon be 
 in the midst of a battle of the elements. 
 
 The sky became overcast and it grew dark. The 
 play of lightning became fiercer and fiercer on both 
 sides, and the peals of thunder soon merged into one 
 continuous roar. Peal was answered by peal, and 
 the echoes took up the terrible sound and sent it on 
 and on until all space seemed filled with the tumul- 
 tuous noise. There came a gust of wind, and then 
 
60 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 for a second a noiseless calm was over all. Then the 
 two clouds rushed to the top of the intervening ridge, 
 and the space between them seemed filled with one 
 continuous sheet of flame. The whole mountain was 
 the battle-ground and heavenly fire the weapons in 
 this awful contest of the elements. Lightning 
 flashed through the air in all directions. Rocks rolled 
 down the side of the mountain, while a hail-storm sent 
 missiles over the valley. The burros huddled to- 
 gether and trembled at the raging of the elements, 
 while Dyche and Brown threw themselves flat on the 
 ground and sought the shelter afforded by the jut- 
 ting rocks. 
 
 Gradually the uproar ceased. The hail continued 
 to fall until the whole mountain-top was covered 
 to a depth of two or three inches. It was some 
 minutes before the storm, now broken into numerous 
 smaller ones, left the mountain and permitted the 
 naturalists to start down to timber and shelter. 
 
 Within an hour from the time the storm began, 
 the whole country was smiling as if nothing had ever 
 occurred to mar its serenity. Not a breath of wind 
 ruffled the trees. Far down the mountain appeared 
 the little lake, no longer vexed by the wind, and 
 picturing on its breast the wooded hills. A pale 
 blue haze hung over everything, and covered the 
 landscape with a veil which, like distance, lent en- 
 chantment to the view. 
 
 A few days spent here proved that there was 
 neither bear nor elk in this part of the country, and 
 camp was moved, the party going in an easterly di- 
 rection and travelling all day through a wilderness of 
 
NEITHER BEAR NOR ELK. 61 
 
 down timber until four o'clock in the afternoon, when 
 a little park was reached. The whole space in the 
 park was covered with grass and beautiful flowers, 
 and, darting here and there through the opening, 
 were what appeared to be tiny balls of fire. At first 
 Brown and Dyche were completely mystified, but an 
 examination showed these fire-balls to be hundreds of 
 rufous humming-birds darting among the blossoms. 
 They whirled and flashed through the air, and the 
 whirring of their wings made music like that of 
 wind among the trees. Camp Humming-Bird, the 
 place was called. After a day's rest it was deter- 
 mined to go back to the other side of the range and 
 see what could be found in the Canadian valley. 
 
 The top of the range was reached by noon. The 
 place where the dreadful storm had raged a few days 
 before was now peaceful. The atmosphere was so 
 clear that the distant mountains, seventy-five and a 
 hundred miles away, seemed to lie within easy walk- 
 ing distance. At nightfall a fine, perfectly wild, 
 iron-gray horse, which had evidently broken away 
 from the confinement of civilisation, was seen in the 
 timber. This incident was sufficient to give the name 
 of Wild Horse Camp to the spot, the tent being 
 pitched by the side of a large snow-drift. 
 
 Late next afternoon Dyche went for a little hunt. 
 As he passed through a willow park two bucks 
 jumped and ran through a clump of trees. He took a 
 flying shot as they disappeared, and as only one 
 c^me out on the other side, Dyche was sure he had 
 not made a miss. The buck jumped up on the side 
 of the hill, and stood as if waiting for its companion. 
 
62 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 Dyche trained the rifle across a log and fired at the 
 deer, fully three hundred yards away. The buck 
 made several awkward jumps, but did not run. 
 Again and again he shot, but each time the deer 
 would jump a little, but would not leave. The sev- 
 enth shot brought the animal to its knees, and Dyche 
 made his way to it. He found that one, perhaps the 
 first, ball had taken off the animal's horns, and so 
 confused it that it did not run. One ball had creased 
 the withers, another cut the brisket, while the last 
 had broken both the fore-legs. 
 
 Brown, hearing so much firing, put the pack-sad- 
 dles on all the burros, for he had never known 
 Dyche to shoot more than once or twice, and supposed 
 that he had a large supply of game. The camp was 
 in a sort of horseshoe inlet in the mountains, and 
 this peculiar formation caused the echoes to come 
 from many different directions. The result was 
 that Brown started off almost in the opposite direc- 
 tion from the spot where Dyche had done his shoot- 
 ing. Tired of waiting, Dyche started to carry the 
 deer, and had proceeded some distance before Brown 
 reached him. Night came on rapidly, and a dense 
 fog or cloud settled down on the mountain. They 
 were over a mile from camp, and it was dark and 
 raining. Dyche wanted to leave the deer and find 
 the tent, but Brown objected. He said he wanted 
 venison for supper, and would have that deer in camp 
 if it took all night. The darkness was so intense 
 that the donkeys would not travel, and Brown was 
 compelled to go ahead while Dyche followed in the 
 rear, holding to a burro's tail to keep from getting 
 
A JOURNEY IN DARKNESS. 63 
 
 lost. On they went, stumbling and falling, the deer 
 slipping from the pack-saddle and causing no end of 
 trouble, until the whole party was almost exhausted. 
 The deer fell off so often that Dyche insisted that it 
 should be left, but Brown was obstinate and took it 
 on his shoulders, saying that he must have venison 
 for supper, and was not going to let a little thing like 
 that get the best of him. They finally reached the 
 opening where the tent had been placed, but they had 
 no idea where it was, and the rain was falling in such 
 torrents that they could not see their hands before 
 their eyes. 
 
 " You stay with the donkeys, and I will find the 
 tent," said Brown; and leaving Dyche he started off 
 through the darkness. Ever and anon he called to 
 keep his bearings, and then his calls became faint, 
 and at last he was out of hearing. Dyche tried 
 to start a fire, but everything was soaking wet, 
 and all his efforts were fruitless. Brown returned 
 after a time and announced that he had found 
 the tent. They travelled about an hour, and 
 then Brown began to wonder what was the matter. 
 He had placed a lighted candle upright on the floor, 
 so that the light could be seen. He made another 
 excursion and found the tent, discovering that the 
 candle had fallen down in the mud and the light had 
 gone out. It was late, but a roaring fire soon dried 
 and warmed their clothing, while a supper on the 
 venison refreshed the inner man; and at three o'clock 
 in the morning they rolled into bed and slept the 
 sleep which follows exhaustion. 
 
 A whole day's rest next day, Sunday, prepared 
 
64 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 them for further exertions. The day following, 
 Dyche was working with his gun, trying to extract 
 an obstinate shell, when Brown came hurrying into 
 the tent with his eyes dilated and his whole frame 
 shaking with excitement. He pointed to a bunch of 
 trees near by, where Dyche saw a magnificent buck, 
 about seventy-five yards away. Dropping on one 
 knee he fired just as the animal was disappearing 
 amid the timber. The buck was found dead a hun- 
 dred yards from the place where he was shot. 
 
 It was evident that in this part of the country there 
 was little game which they wanted, and next day the 
 skins and venison were packed on the donkeys and 
 the back trail taken. At Camp Wild Horse a stop 
 was made, and Brown took the donkeys and with all 
 the spare meat started for Harvey's ranch, leaving 
 Dyche alone in the mountains. To while away the 
 time during the seven days of Brown's absence, 
 Dyche amused himself with trap-setting. He saw 
 some martens catching conies in the rocks and suc- 
 ceeded in getting two of them. He carried the big 
 bear- trap down into the canon and set it, and went 
 every morning and evening to see it. A V-shaped 
 pen of logs was made and the trap set in this. Foxes 
 were cunning enough to climb over the logs and eat 
 the bait. To prevent this the top of the pen was cov- 
 ered with brush, and then the foxes dug holes under 
 the logs. Dyche now had a time of it to outwit the 
 little animals. He set traps around the logs, but the 
 foxes evaded them. Then he set traps away from the 
 pen and had the satisfaction of catching the robbers. 
 
 Six days had passed in this way, and on the morn- 
 
UNWELCOME VISITORS. 65 
 
 iiig of the seventh Dyche had started for the bear- trap, 
 when he saw Brown coming up the canon. 
 
 " How did you get here so early in the morning? " 
 was the greeting. 
 
 " I got within half a mile of camp last night before 
 sundown, but clouds and fog settled down so that I 
 did not like to risk coming on in the dark." 
 
 Brown had the mail and plenty of provisions, which 
 were badly needed, for Dyche had had only two 
 biscuits since Brown left. 
 
 " I had visitors while you were away," said Dyche, 
 after they had eaten breakfast. " You remember that 
 camp-fire that we saw down in the valley? Well, I 
 think the fellows who built that fire came up to see 
 me, and from their appearance and actions I think 
 they meant no good. I saw them coming and made 
 it a point to be cleaning the guns when they came up. 
 They talked Spanish, but when they found that I 
 could not understand it they talked good English and 
 asked me many questions about my business and why 
 I was up here. I told them the truth, showed my 
 specimens, and convinced them that I was all right, 
 and at last they went away. I was not at all satisfied 
 with the interview, and when they had gone I started 
 to hunt and skirted along the edge of the woods 
 where I could watch them. They went down into 
 the valley and met another man who was taking 
 care of the horses. I think they were a band of 
 horse-thieves, and I lay behind a log all that night, 
 and if they had come fooling around they would have 
 had a reception which they did not bargain for." 
 
 A fine white-tailed buck which had been eluding 
 
66 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 Dyche for a week fell victim to his gun that after- 
 noon, and next morning Brown took the shot-gun and 
 went down the canon. Dyche was looking after his 
 fox-traps, and had just found one in which there was 
 a beautiful brown fox when he heard a report down 
 the canon as if from a cannon. Brown had evidently 
 touched off " Old Vesuvius," as the shot-gun had been 
 christened by the cowboys. Dyche gave a signal 
 but got no answer. Darkness came, but no Brown. 
 Becoming much alarmed lest some accident had be- 
 fallen his companion, Dyche hurried down the canon, 
 calling now and then but getting no response. 
 About two hundred yards from camp he heard a 
 slight noise and called out. A muffled answer was 
 returned, and then he was sure Brown had been badly 
 hurt. Hastening down he found Brown staggering 
 up the mountain with a big doe on his back. His 
 face was black and blue and his clothing covered 
 with hair and blood. A deep scratch ran along the 
 side of his nose, and taken altogether he was a most 
 dilapidated-looking object. He had fired both bar- 
 rels of the gun at once, and, being unused to such 
 a heavy charge, had been kicked over by the heavily 
 loaded weapon. 
 
 Next day Brown took his insect-net and Dyche 
 his rifle and they wandered off looking for what they 
 could find. Dyche was first to return and had supper 
 ready when Brown reached camp. Brown had a 
 good story to tell and began while they were still 
 eating : 
 
 "Say, Prof, do you remember that old crag of 
 loose rock we passed as we came into this canon? 
 
BROWN'S AVALANCHE. 67 
 
 Well, I was looking for insects around in that vicinity, 
 but could not find many. After fooling around try- 
 ing to kill some grouse with rocks, I got one by 
 hitting it on the head. I climbed up on that crag. 
 There was a big rocky mass which was split off from 
 the rest, and I got a pole and tried to pry it off. I 
 worked for nearly two hours, for I wanted to see it 
 go down the mountain. At last it got loose, and how 
 it did go! I wish you could have seen it. The 
 big rock started a hundred others and this hundred a 
 thousand more. You would have thought the whole 
 top of the mountain had fallen. It frightened me as 
 I thought there might possibly have been someone at 
 the bottom of the canon. A cloud of dust and smoke 
 arose which had the smell of the infernal regions, 
 while the noise was terrific." 
 
 When he finished his story Dyche, who had been 
 listening quietly, said he had had an adventure also. 
 
 " When I left camp I went north and then circled 
 east and worked along the edge of the canon. Seeing 
 about a dozen big mule bucks in a band, I started to 
 stalk them. Working very slowly and crawling 
 carefully, I got within two hundred yards of them. 
 There was a bunch of scrubby spruce trees about sev- 
 enty-five yards to the east of them on the edge of the 
 canon, and I determined to get to that clump, where I 
 could have my pick of the band. Leaving my hat 
 and shoes behind, I worked my way along and got 
 almost there. Twenty-five yards more and the trees 
 would be reached. I stopped to get my breath a little, 
 when a regular earthquake seemed to break loose. 
 An immense crag away up on the side of the moun- 
 
68 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 tain broke from its place and came down into the 
 canon. The first stone started hundreds of others, 
 and these hundreds started thousands more, and they 
 came down with a terrible noise. Dust and smoke 
 arose and a smell as of the infernal regions came from 
 the bottom. When it was over the deer were gone 
 and I came back to camp." 
 
 As Dyche proceeded with his story and ended in 
 almost the very words of Brown, the latter stopped 
 eating, his jaw dropped, and when the story was 
 finished his only comment was : 
 
 "Well, I'll be darned!" 
 
 Satisfying themselves that no bears were to be 
 found in this part of the mountain, they started for 
 old Camp Bear Trail next morning, and late in the 
 evening they pitched their tent in the familiar spot. 
 The bear-trap was again set in the canon, but several 
 days passed without special incident. Dyche and 
 Brown made a long trip to the west and returned late 
 in the evening, tired from their exertions. While 
 Brown took the burros to water, Dyche set about 
 getting supper, and had it well under way when 
 Brown rushed into camp, calling : 
 
 "What is that roaring in the canon?" 
 
 An answer was unnecessary, for the sound was so 
 plain that both shouted at once : 
 
 "A bear! a bear!" 
 
 Brown seized the shot-gun without waiting to 
 see whether it was loaded or not, while Dyche 
 got the rifle and a handful of cartridges, and away 
 they went down the cafion. The roaring continued 
 and grew louder and louder, and the two men 
 
THE BEAR WAS HANDICAPPED. 69 
 
 went over bushes, logs, stumps, and even small trees 
 in their haste. Brown fell over a bush and lost the 
 shot-gun, but was in too great a hurry to pick it up, 
 and on he went, shouting at the top of his voice. The 
 noise was closer now, and appeared to be a cross be- 
 tween the roar of an African lion and the bellow of an 
 enraged bull. Then the bear came in sight. He was 
 going down the canon as fast as the big fifty-pound 
 trap fastened to his leg would let him. The long 
 chain was fastened to a twenty-five-foot pole, and 
 this caught in the rocks and bushes, detaining bruin 
 in his frantic efforts to get away from his pursuers. 
 
 " Shoot him. Professor, shoot him !" yelled Brown. 
 
 At the sound of his voice the bear stopped and 
 looked back. He now tried to get the trap from his 
 foot by beating it with his paws and biting it until 
 his mouth was bloody and his teeth broken. 
 
 A ball from the rifle knocked the bear down, but 
 he was up in an instant and was going down the canon 
 faster than ever. Another ball sent him to grass 
 again, but he would not stay down, and then a third 
 ball knocked him over so hard that he could not get 
 up. He now went through a series of wild contor- 
 tions, rolling and tumbling, roaring and bellowing 
 in a most terrible manner. He had received his 
 death- wound and Dyche let him alone to die, which 
 took about fifteen minutes. Then the naturalists 
 shook hands, executed their favourite war-dance, and 
 did numerous seemingly foolish things with which 
 all hunters can sympathise. Their victim was meas- 
 ured and skinned and left where he fell until morning, 
 for no animal would touch a dead bear. 
 
70 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 The excitement of the bear-hunt made them forget 
 for the time being how tired they were, but now that 
 it was all over they went slowly back to get their 
 supper. In the fight with the bear they had travelled 
 nearly two miles down the canon, and were almost 
 exhausted when camp was reached. In their haste 
 to get to the bear Brown had forgotten to tie up old 
 Keuben, and that animal utilised the opportunity by 
 doing up the camp while they were doing up the 
 bear. He first made a raid on the little pole table 
 made between the trees and cleaned it off. He ate 
 the apple-sauce and licked the dish. The last half- 
 pound of butter followed this. The soap was gone. 
 A piece of bacon had been pulled down and 
 mouthed until it was useless. The dish-cloth had 
 been chewed, and when found the old reprobate had 
 just finished the batch of hot bread which had been 
 left baking in the Dutch oven covered with coals. 
 Reuben had poked the cover off without burn- 
 ing himself and finished the bread. Such inci- 
 dents are amusing to look back upon or to tell 
 about, but just at that time it was the straw 
 which broke the hearts of the naturalists. Reuben's 
 head was tied close to a tree, where he was left to 
 repent of his sins, which he undoubtedly did, for 
 next morning he made a light luncheon off of one of 
 Brown's socks which had been hung on a bush to 
 dry. 
 
 That afternoon a voice was heard calling away 
 down the canon. Wondering who it could be, Dyche 
 and Brown went down to render aid if aid was 
 needed. It was Clare, who had made the trip u]3 
 
ANTS AND FLEAS. 71 
 
 into those wild mountains alone. He shared 
 Brown's bed on one side of the tent, while Dyche 
 occupied the other. About midnight the sleepers 
 were aroused by an appalling din, and Clare bolted 
 through the tent entrance without waiting to untie 
 the strings. He stood by the fire yelling at the top 
 of his voice. 
 
 " What's the matter with you? Have you got the 
 nightmare?" asked Brown. 
 
 "Ants! ants in my pants!" yelled Clare, as he 
 rubbed his legs and tried to dislodge the insects. He 
 was scolded into returning to bed, and the camp had 
 barely got settled down again when the racket broke 
 out once more, but this time it was Brown, and he 
 was immediately followed by Clare. 
 
 "Ants! ants!" they screamed. Dyche grumbled 
 at them for disturbing him and asked why they could 
 not make less noise. 
 
 "It's Brown that's got the nightmare," said Clare. 
 " It isn't so funny now." Just then Dyche felt as if 
 a piece had been bitten out of his leg, and he gave a 
 jump and shout that told the others that they were not 
 alone in their misery. The rest of the night was 
 spent in searching for the voracious insects and 
 driving them out. The tent had been pitched 
 near the site of a big ant-hill, but it was supposed 
 that all the insects had been cleared out. At break- 
 fast in the morning Brown suddenly dropped his plate 
 and seized his leg with an exclamation. 
 
 " I've got him, sure, this time," he said, and an in- 
 vestigation revealed no ant, but a big reddish flea. 
 The whole thing was plain now. There were no ants, 
 6 
 
73 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 but the bear-skin, which had been deposited near the 
 tent, was full of fleas, and when the skin got cold the 
 insects had made an excursion in search of warmth 
 and food, which they found under the blankets in the 
 tent. 
 
 That evening there was a grand feast in the camp 
 with bear-meat, brisket of deer, and good appetites. 
 Then came a general bear talk. Bear-meat was 
 tough and stringy and jumped under the teeth like a 
 piece of india-rubber. Some was roasted and some 
 was boiled, but it was all tough and had a peculiar 
 flavor. 
 
 " Is all bear-meat as tough as this?" asked Brown. 
 
 "No. I've eaten the meat of black bear that was 
 very nice and tender," answered the professor. "It 
 tasted like pork. I presume a young grizzly would 
 not be bad eating. " 
 
 " How big do bears get?" asked Clare. 
 
 " Well, that's hard to tell. According to some re- 
 ports they occasionally exceed two thousand pounds, 
 but I don't think there are many so large. From the 
 best information I am able to obtain I don't believe 
 they get larger than twelve hundred pounds. I was 
 told by an old hunter that he saw a bear in Califor- 
 nia that weighed between eleven and twelve hundred 
 pounds and it was a monster. It was kept in captiv- 
 ity and had been fed every day until it was very fat." 
 
 " How large do black bears get?" 
 
 " Ordinarily between two hundred and three hun- 
 dred and fifty pounds. I heard of one taken in 
 Idaho which weighed four hundred and twenty -five 
 pounds." 
 
BEAR TALK. 73 
 
 " How many kinds of bear are there in this coun- 
 try?" asked Clare. 
 
 "Only two, the grizzly and the black." 
 " Well, how about the silver- tip and the cinnamon?" 
 " I was just going to say that the cinnamon is a 
 variety of the black, while the silver-tip is a smaller 
 form of the grizzly. Bears vary greatly in size, even 
 when full grown. They also vary much in colour, 
 ranging from a light yellowish-brown to almost jet- 
 black. I have seen the skins of young grizzlies al- 
 most as light-coloured as wolves. The feet and lower 
 part of the legs are, however, dark, shading from 
 black to various tints of brown. The colour also de- 
 pends on the season. In the spring the old shaggy 
 hair is much lighter than the new fall coat. This 
 wide range in colour and size of the grizzly has done 
 much to encourage the notion that there are different 
 kinds of grizzlies in the United States. The cinna- 
 mon or brown bear seems to be only a colour variety 
 of the black. Those who claim that these bears are 
 different species say that the black and cinnamon 
 cross and make the different colours. This is really 
 an argument against the claimants, for different spe- 
 cies of animals do not cross. If they did they would 
 merge finally into one single species. The silver-tip 
 seems to be a well-marked variety of the grizzly." 
 
 " How could one tell a silver-tip grizzly from a cin- 
 namon?" asked Brown. 
 
 " A grizzly can usually be distinguished by the fact 
 that his front claws are twice as long as his hind 
 ones. They sometimes reach the length of five inches. 
 In the black or cinnamon there is not such a marked 
 
74 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 difference. The colour of black or brown bears is 
 more uniform through out, while the colour of the griz- 
 zly is variegated. The grizzly also has a more dis- 
 tinct mane, which stands up between the shoulders, 
 sometimes reaching a length of five or six inches. 
 The feet of the grizzly are always broad and thick as 
 compared with those of the black bear." 
 
 " How large are bears when they are born?" 
 
 "About the size of Norway rats. The old bear 
 generally has twins and sometimes triplets. An 
 Indian gave me some young ones which he said were 
 about two weeks old. They were about the size of 
 Newfoundland puppies." 
 
 " Do bears hibernate?" asked Brown. 
 
 " Yes, after a fashion. Not in the ordinary sense 
 of the word. They do not get torpid. They usually 
 *den up' in the colder parts of the winter. These 
 dens are simply nests of leaves and grass under the 
 roots of some overturned tree. Here the bear stays 
 until the weather gets warm, unless he is disturbed, 
 and then he is 'up and coming.' " 
 
 " Do bears voluntarily attack people?" asked Clare. 
 
 " If you suddenly came upon an old female with 
 cubs she would probably show fight just as a cow 
 moose, an old sow, or any domestic animal would. A 
 wounded bear will also fight just the same as any 
 other wounded animal." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that all those stories about 
 bears attacking people are false, do you?" asked 
 Brown. 
 
 " Most of them are undoubtedly so. Bears are the 
 most cunning animals in the mountains. I have 
 
BEAR TALK. 75 
 
 come upon their beds while thej^ were still warm, but 
 the bears were gone without my even getting a 
 glimpse of them. No matter how sly I am, they are 
 pretty sure to hear me and go scurrying through the 
 woods as fast as their legs will carry them. Their 
 senses of hearing, smelling, and seeing seem to be 
 marvellously developed." 
 
 " What do they feed on?" 
 
 " That depends to a considerable extent upon the 
 country in which they live. Like the hog, they take 
 anything they can get. They will take meat, rob birds' 
 nests and suck the eggs, catch frogs, eat fish ; they are 
 very fond of vegetables, berries, and tender roots, and 
 they will eat ants and other insects and even worms. 
 They are very fond of acorns and go a long way after 
 them. In Washington and British Columbia they 
 desert the mountains when the salmon are running 
 and live along the streams." 
 
 The hunt was now over and the skins and meat 
 were packed to Harvey's ranch, where the naturalists 
 said farewell to their friends and returned to civili- 
 sation. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A Peculiar Wedding-Journey — Field Taxidermy — A Typical 
 Mountaineer — Big Bear Talk — The Cabin was Looted — A 
 Lost Timepiece — A Great Day for Talking. 
 
 jLL was bustle in Paradise Valley one May 
 morning two years after the events nar- 
 rated in the preceding chapter. Harvey 
 was reading to Mrs. Harvey and Allie 
 a letter, the gist of which was as follows : 
 
 " Meet me with the burros. I have two compan- 
 ions and am coming to spend the summer with you." 
 It was from Dyche, and this announcement was 
 the cause of the commotion. Everyone was impa- 
 tient for the pack-train to be off, even old Reuben 
 seeming to know that something out of the ordinary 
 had happened, for instead of hanging back and caus- 
 ing trouble when the train started, he walked sedately 
 to his place and waited for his saddle. 
 
 Dyche and his companions had travelled the 
 twenty-five miles from Las Vegas to the foot of the 
 mountains in a wagon, and were now waiting for 
 the arrival of the pack-train from the mountain 
 ranch. Their baggage had been dumped on the 
 ground at the edge of a little Mexican village on the 
 banks of the Gallinas River, and here they made their 
 camp. The home life of the Mexicans, as seen from 
 the door of their tent, served to while away the time 
 
 76 
 
A PECULIAR WEDDING-JOURNEY. 77 
 
 of waiting. The fact first observed was that every 
 man and woman in the village was an inveterate 
 cigarette-smoker. The children had driven their 
 herds of goats to the mountains and the lazy oxen were 
 drawing their creaking and groaning carts or haul- 
 ing heavy logs to the sawmill, which puffed and 
 buzzed a short distance down the river. Fires were 
 started in the big out-door beehive oven ready for 
 the week's baking, and village life was in full blast, 
 when the campers were startled by a loud hail in a 
 voice that to Dyche had a familiar ring. 
 
 " Ha-o, there ! Como le va?" 
 
 " Como le va yourself." 
 
 "Who's this you've got with you?" 
 
 "This is my wife. I'm married now," replied 
 Dyche. 
 
 " Well, I want to know ! So you're married ! And 
 you thought you would come to the finest country in 
 the world for your wedding-trip?" 
 
 " I see that you haven't lost old Reuben yet." 
 
 "Lost him? Why, you couldn't lose him if you 
 tried. He's just the meanest old burro in the whole 
 country. He steals eggs and eats young chickens 
 every chance he gets. If you and Brown had killed 
 him for a specimen when you were here, it would 
 have saved me much trouble and bad temper. I had 
 to bring him along, for I darsn't leave him at the 
 ranch." 
 
 "WeU, why can't Mrs. Dyche ride him to the 
 ranch? He's gentle enough and she will be in no 
 danger in going over the trail." 
 
 No sooner suggested than acted on, and the saddle 
 
78 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 was put on the old burro, and for the next six miles 
 Mrs. Dyche exercised her arms trying to make him 
 keep in the trail and up with the other donkeys. He 
 had a mind of his own and would wander off to lunch 
 on tempting bits of grass away from the trail. Her 
 feeble efforts at punishment had about as much effect 
 on him as tickling with a straw. Finally he was 
 put in the middle of the train and better time was 
 made. The ranch was reached by noon, and hj night 
 the party had become thoroughly domiciled, ready 
 for the summer's campaign. 
 
 The object of this year's trip was to put into 
 practical operation an idea of Dyche 's regarding field 
 mounting of birds. The camp was placed by the side 
 of a cool spring which gushed from the edge of a 
 patch of quaking asps, while on the west was a heavy 
 body of spruce. Stretching to the south for two or 
 three hundred yards was a fine grassy meadow, 
 merging into a jungle of willow and tag-alder 
 bushes covering a piece of swampy ground. A 
 small wall-tent was devoted to taxidermic operations, 
 and soon became known as the museum. This tent 
 faced south, overlooking the meadow, and was pre- 
 pared for any emergency. Shelves arranged in one 
 corner held the mounting outfit, which included a 
 bunch of wire, a can of alum and arsenic, a bottle of 
 benzine, a can of plaster-of-Paris, a case of the size 
 and shape of a cigar-box containiug a complete 
 assortment of tools for skinning and mounting birds, 
 a roll of manilla paper, and a few other articles. 
 Under these shelves were kept rolls of cotton -batting 
 and excelsior. A pole table served as an operating- 
 
. FIELD TAXIDERMY. 79 
 
 desk, while a hollow log, sawed to the proper length 
 and covered with buckskin, furnished the seat. On 
 one side was a pole platform on which mounted birds 
 were stored, while a similar one held the guns and 
 ammunition ready for instant action. By noon on the 
 second day the whole place was complete, and they 
 were ready for anything of the bird kind from an 
 eagle to a "hummer." 
 
 Two beautiful long-crested jays perched them- 
 
 L. • selves on a limb in front of the tent and began an 
 
 /¥ inspection which cost them their lives, and they were 
 
 '\^ first to be immolated on the shrine of science. The 
 
 j^ ^'^ advantage of field taxidermy was shown in the first 
 
 jW^^' day's work. The operator was not compelled to rely 
 
 j^ ,&*Tipon either memory or notes to ascertain the correct 
 
 ''^^^/^ositions of birds, but from his desk could look into 
 
 ^ kI^ ^® trees and see the counterpart of the one in hand 
 
 ^'A^^^jj^iidi thus get the natural poses and positions. This 
 
 ^ jO^'^^^ractice soon convinced Dyche that the live bird in 
 
 ^ its natural habitat was the only safe guide to be 
 
 followed. Another point gained by field-work was 
 
 in mounting many of the smaller birds which had 
 
 such tender skins that it was next to impossible to 
 
 carry them long distances before mounting. This 
 
 was especially noticeable in the hummers, which, 
 
 every taxidermist knows, are exceedingly difficult 
 
 to mount after becoming dry. Ordinarily many 
 
 skins are spoiled by oil oozing from the shot-holes, 
 
 but when they are mounted immediately this can be 
 
 obviated with little difficulty. Doves and pigeons, 
 
 which are so difficult to mount from dry specimens, 
 
 were handled very readily, and the fresh skins were 
 
80 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 found to be tough enough fcr all practical pur- 
 poses. 
 
 The month of June, which was thus devoted to 
 field-work, passed very quickly, and one hundred and 
 fifteen birds stood on the pole table ready for trans- 
 portation down the mountain. But this was a prob- 
 lem which had not yet been solved. How were the 
 mounted specimens to be carried down the twisting 
 trail and over the hundreds of miles of railroad 
 without injuring them? Dyche had an idea about it 
 before he came, and several cracker and soap boxes 
 had been taken apart and carried up the mountain 
 and were now put together. The birds had been 
 mounted on a T-shaped stand, and the cross-piece of 
 the T was now taken off and placed on the bottom 
 of the box, holes in which permitted the passage of 
 wire. This wire passed over the cross-piece and was 
 securely fastened below. Adjusting the birds at 
 such an angle as to occupy the least space, a layer 
 covered the bottom of the box and then cleats were 
 screwed on and a shelf or tray, also covered with 
 birds, was placed in, the process being continued 
 until the box was filled. The lid was screwed on and 
 the whole neatly covered with canvas, giving to it 
 the appearance of an ordinary satchel, to which 
 handles were attached. In addition to the hundred 
 and fifteen mounted birds a large cracker-box was 
 filled with d ry^skins , the larger ones being rolled in 
 cotton and fastened in the box so that they could not 
 crowd each other, and the smaller ones being placed 
 in cylinders made of heavy manilla paper, to which 
 they were secured by long pins passing through the 
 
A TYPICAL MOUNTAINEER. SI" 
 
 paper into the bird-skin. These boxes were carried 
 over trails and on the cars as hand-baggage. Eames, 
 the student who was with Dyche this year, fashioned 
 a pack-saddle for his shoulders, and marched ahead 
 of the pack-animals with the two boxes of mounted 
 birds. Arriving at their destination, it was found 
 that the journey of several hundred miles had done 
 no damage to the frailest specimen. 
 
 Dyche concluded to give his wife a taste of real 
 mountain life, and just as he was considering a 
 trip to Camp Bear Trail, Beaty, the mica-miner, 
 came up from Las Yegas on his way to his ranch, 
 which was established at the head-waters of the 
 Pecos, about ten miles from the ridge on which 
 Dyche and Brown had passed through the terrible 
 electrical storm. The miner gave them such a hearty 
 invitation to accompany him home that they ac- 
 cepted, and he promised the best hunting and fishing 
 in the country. The hardships of a three-days' jour- 
 ney over the roughest part of the mountains did not 
 deter Mrs. Dyche, and early one morning the start 
 was made, old Reuben carrying Mrs. Dyche. With 
 Beaty in the lead picking out the trail and Dyche 
 in the rear to punch up stragglers, they went up the 
 mountains, Beaty beguiling the way with many 
 quaint stories. 
 
 All signs of a trail finally faded away and merged 
 into a tangled network of underbrush and fallen 
 timber. Dyche offered Beaty a small hand axe with 
 which to cut his way, but the latter declined, and 
 drawing an immense knife from his belt, remarked : 
 "This is, sure the thing for that kind of work. 
 
82 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 This is sure a good knife. I made it myself out of 
 a drill, and I made this one too, " drawing its mate 
 from his belt. The blades were twelve inches long 
 and of finely tempered steel. "They're sure bear 
 knives, and long enough to reach a bear's heart. If 
 a bear ever comes across this old man he will sure 
 feel this knife in his heart. See these buckhorn 
 handles? I sure made them and killed the buck that 
 wore the horns." 
 
 Beaty was a typical mountaineer, and as he stood 
 flourishing the big knives above his big sombrero, 
 with his buckskin coat, he looked a fit match for any 
 bear that walked the range. His continued talk of 
 what he would "sure" do and Dyche's knowledge 
 of the power of the grizzly bear, made the latter a 
 little dubious as to the outcome of a fight with Beaty 
 and a bear as chief actors, but he kept his counsel 
 and drew the mountaineer out until the woods were 
 filled with the sound of his big bear talk. 
 
 The first day passed pleasantly, barring the many 
 "unpleasantnesses" between Reuben and his rider, 
 and camp was made by the side of a spring in a 
 grassy meadow. The second day took the party 
 through a long stretch of burned timber ; the donkeys 
 caused much trouble by continually running into 
 snags and tearing their packs. Camp was made on 
 the slope of the mountain, near a bunch of quaking 
 asp and spruce trees. As the train approached the 
 spot an old hen grouse flew up, and while the sup- 
 per was being prepared the young grouse could be 
 heard "peeping" in the grass and bushes. Mrs. 
 Dyche could not rest until the little fellows had been 
 
BIG BEAR TALK. 88 
 
 caught and snuggled under a blanket, where they 
 spent the night cosily; and next morning when 
 they all ran about, alive and spry, Dyche did 
 not regret having spent an hour on his hands and 
 knees in search of them the night before. The 
 mother grouse flew down from a neighbouring tree as 
 the train moved away, and Mrs. Dyche 's heart was 
 made glad with the knowledge that the grouse family 
 was reunited. 
 
 "Do you see that pile of stones?" asked Beaty, 
 pointing to a heap of small rocks which had evidently 
 been thrown together for some purpose. "A few 
 years ago it was sure very dry on the plains, and 
 Mexican herders brought their sheep up into the 
 mountains where they could get grass and water. 
 One old man had $10 in his pocket and he was killed 
 and robbed by some of his companions. When his 
 friends carried his body out, wherever they stopped 
 to rest they would make a little pile of stones, and 
 now whenever a Mexican passes along he adds a 
 stone to the pile and says a prayer for the rest of the 
 murdered man's soul." 
 
 " Is that the reason there are so many little stone 
 piles throughout New Mexico?" asked Dyche. 
 
 "No, not always. They are made to commemo- 
 rate some incident. They've sure got some queer 
 superstitions, and one of their religious ones is the 
 queerest. " 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " A lot of them go up on Hermit's Peak, over there, 
 and crawl around on their hands and knees among 
 the cactus bushes and on the stones, exposing them- 
 
84 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 selves to hunger and thirst. They sure die from it 
 sometimes." 
 
 "Why do they call it Hermit's Peak?" 
 
 " An old Mexican hermit used to live there, and 
 when the people went there they took him things to 
 eat. They say he had a gold-mine up there and he 
 sure had lots of gold. He hid it all away when he 
 left, and it has never been found. There's sure gold 
 there, but I've not found it yet. I've got colours, 
 though." 
 
 So Beaty beguiled the way with his stories, and as 
 they were going down into a grassy valley he sud- 
 denly stopped the train and called out : 
 
 " See that willow thicket there? Well, I sure saw 
 a bear there. You see that old log there? Well, 
 when I got there I heard a mighty noise in 
 those willows and four bears came out all at once. 
 I thought they had it in for the old man, but I 
 just threw myself down by the side of that big 
 log, jerked out both knives, and if the bears had 
 come I sure would have done some of them. When 
 they saw that I was sure ready for them they got 
 out of there in a hurry. As I lay there four bears 
 went hustling up the other side of the mountain. 
 This is sure a great country for bears." 
 
 Late in the afternoon, when within a few rods of 
 the cabin of the miner, the train was again called to 
 a halt, and Beaty, pointing to a large tree, said : 
 
 "See that tree there? I met an old grizzly 
 there. I'd been fishing and was coming to the 
 ranch. I had thirty fish on a stringer, not one less 
 than twelve inches long, and was within thirty feet 
 
THE CABIN LOOTED. 85 
 
 of a bear before I saw him. I skinned up that 
 tree in a hurry, and that bear came along and 
 ate up every one of those fish and then licked the 
 stringer. He then looked at me and walked off 
 about his business as if nothing had happened." 
 
 "Why didn't you kill him with your big bear 
 knives?" asked Dyche. 
 
 " I had left my knives at the cabin or there would 
 have been the worst bear-fight ever seen in these 
 mountains." 
 
 "He would have killed you, Beaty, before you 
 could have hurt him with a knife." 
 
 " He would have had some fun doin' it. I would 
 have thrown myself down on my back. That is 
 sure the way to fight a bear. When he came up 
 I would have plunged both knives into him. It 
 would sure have fixed him too." 
 
 All this bear talk had a depressing effect upon 
 Mrs. Dyche, and as the party moved on towards the 
 cabin they saw that a bear had recently been there. 
 The little garden had been torn up and the big tracks 
 could be seen everywhere. 
 
 "See, there are bears here. The woods are full 
 of them." 
 
 Unlocking the door of the little two-roomed cabin, 
 Beaty stepped inside, but at once bounced out with 
 his eyes distended and his whole face showing great 
 excitement. 
 
 "I've sure been robbed. Somebody's taken every- 
 thing I had, even my gun and pistol. There ain't 
 enough left for one meal. I'll follow them. If I 
 ever strike their trail they'll be mine." 
 
86 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 He raved and howled until the air seemed to take 
 on a pale blue tinge and smelled sulphurous. Mrs. 
 Dyche concluded it would be well to go down and 
 watch the water run in the river while Dyche tried 
 in vain to calm the enraged miner. The cabin had 
 been completely looted, to all appearances. Beaty 
 pointed to places where he had had a ham or a side 
 of bacon hanging or where a can of syrup stood, but 
 these places were all vacant now. Ho took a wide 
 circuit around the place to find a trail, but all in 
 vain. The only tracks to be seen were those made 
 by Beaty himself during his last visit. Down by the 
 river were seen small tracks, like those of a woman, 
 and Beaty came in full of the idea that he had dis- 
 covered the whole plot. 
 
 " There was a white man with a Mexican woman 
 and they had a train of burros, for they could never 
 have carried off all that stuff on their backs. I will 
 sure find them if it takes my whole life. " 
 
 All night long the visitors could hear their host 
 grumbling, and ever and anon he would break out 
 with oaths that would make Mrs. Dyche shudder. 
 Beaty was up early and started off down the Pecos 
 River to his nearest neighbour, twenty-five miles 
 away, in hopes of getting some trace of the despera- 
 does. Dyche and his wife concluded that it would 
 be best to get out of the countrj^ themselves, and 
 notwithstanding they had just had a hard three-days' 
 trip up the mountains, they started back for Harvey's 
 ranch. They had plenty of provisions and the river 
 was full of fish, but the talk about bears and the 
 experience with robbers were too much for Mrs. 
 
THE CABIN LOOTED. 87 
 
 Dyche. The first night on the way down some wild 
 animal frightened the donkeys so that they rushed 
 into camp for protection and kept the travellers 
 awake the balance of the night. Next day they left 
 the main trail and went off to Bear Trail Camp. 
 It seemed like getting home again to Dyche. Two 
 years had passed since the last visit, but everything 
 was just as he had left it. An old dish-rag still 
 hung on a peg in the tree, while on the pole table 
 sat the wooden bowl, carved out with so much pa- 
 tience by Brown. Cans and tin pans were hanging 
 in their accustomed places, while even the firewood 
 which had been placed in a dry nook was still there 
 ready for the fire. Sticking from the roots of the 
 tree was the neck of a bottle of syrup, now greatly 
 improved with age. The two were soon comfortable, 
 and after five days' continuous travelling on a rough 
 trail the rest was welcome. 
 
 Dyche knew every foot of ground around the camp 
 as well as he did his father's pasture, and he started 
 out to find a deer. Mrs. Dyche had seen so many 
 bear signs that she insisted that he should not go out 
 of hearing. There were so many evidences in the 
 great holes where bears had wallowed, or where they 
 had turned over the logs and stones, or scratched 
 the trees, that she was sure she saw a bear in every 
 blackened stump on the mountain. Late in the 
 afternoon Dyche was sitting at the edge of a little 
 meadow, concealed by a bunch of willows. 
 
 Just as the sun touched the western mountain- 
 tops a deer came to the edge of the woods about three 
 hundred yards from where Dyche was sitting. The 
 
 r 
 
88 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 animal was very cautious and stepped along care- 
 fully, watching for the least sign of danger. He 
 finally stepped from the timber and began nipping 
 the leaves and grass and feeding towards where the 
 hunter was concealed. He fed along so slowly that it 
 became a race between the deer and the sun. At last 
 the sun disappeared and darkness came on rapidly. 
 Dyche was uneasy lest his wife should drop a pan or 
 make some other noise which would startle the deer. 
 It became so dark that the sights on the rifle were 
 not distinguishable, and when the deer came within 
 fifty yards Dyche fired his shot-gun. The animal 
 gave several great jumps and Dj^che did not wait to 
 see if his shot had been fatal, but he sent a ball from 
 the rifle after it and the deer sank to the ground. 
 Calling Mrs. Dyche, who took charge of the guns, 
 he dressed the deer and carried it to camp. A hot 
 supper of venison liver, biscuits, coffee, and syrup 
 convinced them that they had chosen well in coming 
 to the mountains. Two days were spent at Camp 
 Bear Trail, and they lived as happily as if they had 
 been domiciled at some summer hotel. 
 
 When they had left Harvey's ranch, eight daj^s 
 before, the place was comparatively quiet, with 
 only Harvey, his wife, and Allie there. As they ap- 
 proached on their return, however, they were made 
 aware of the fact that a change had come since their 
 departure. Voices, loud and strong, could be heard 
 long before they reached the clearing. At the house 
 they found several mountaineers sitting around, 
 "swapping lies" about their varied adventures. 
 There was Fly, the mica-miner, he of the strong 
 
A GREAT DAY FOR TALKING. 89 
 
 frame and equally strong lungs. He was a talker, 
 and the tones were of such a pitch and volume that 
 the tops of the highest hills echoed them back. Then 
 there was Levette, called for short "Cockeye." 
 Levette wanted to talk and was continually trying 
 to get in a word, but he was entirely too slow for the 
 crowd he was now with. The inevitable "I was 
 just goin' to say" never got beyond his tongue's end 
 until some readier talker broke in, and it was never 
 known what he was going to say. Eames, who had 
 never been defeated in a talking-match, was there, 
 and then there was Harvey, who had had forty-nine 
 years* experience at it. All had something to say, 
 and none cared what the others had done; so the 
 result was that all talked at once. Dyche was some- 
 what of a talker himself, and when he got into the 
 crowd he was anxious to tell of his experience at 
 Beaty's cabin. The result of all this was that when 
 Mrs. Harvey announced that the haunch of venison 
 was sufficiently baked and that dinner was ready, 
 there were five men all talking at the top of their 
 voices, each sandwiching in his story wherever he 
 got an opportunity. While Mrs. Harvey and Mrs. 
 Dyche stood in the door of the kitchen laughing at 
 the exertions of the talkers, in walked Beaty. 
 
 Now Beaty carried off the palm as a talker in that 
 region, and when he began all others were compelled 
 from the sheer force of necessity to stop. Beaty had 
 a story to tell and he told it. His voice soon made 
 itself felt in the general pandemonium, and the 
 others gradually quieted down until he had the floor 
 to himself. But he talked under difficulties. He 
 
90 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 would hardly get started before someone would break 
 in, and then all would go at it again. 
 
 " You remember when I left you, Professor. Well, 
 it was just eight o'clock in the morning, and at just 
 two o'clock in the afternoon I was at the ranch, 
 twenty-five miles down the Pecos. " 
 
 Here Fly broke in : " That was no walking. In 
 California I walked from Elk Creek down to Gold 
 Gulch, forty-two miles, in just eight hours and " 
 
 Here someone else broke in, and the story of some 
 great walk had to be told by each one, and Beaty 
 was compelled to wait until the flood passed and 
 then started fresh again. 
 
 " At the ranch I found my old partner, Everhart, 
 and he told me that he heard I was sick down to 
 Vegas. He sure sent a boy up to the ranch to look 
 after things until I could get back. The boy stayed 
 there about a week and then a big bear came around 
 the place and would not go away, although he shot 
 at it through the window. The boy was scared, and 
 dug a hole under the floor and buried everything in 
 the cabin in the hole. He took all the dirt down to 
 the river andthrew it in and smoothed the place over. 
 Sometimes he wore a pair of my old shoes and made 
 big tracks around the place. " 
 
 "Well, I want to know!" 
 
 " By the great wars !" 
 
 " I was just goin' to say " 
 
 "I thought you could have smelled it." 
 
 "You couldn't smell anything but brimetone 
 around there when Beaty got there." 
 
 " That boy knew what he was about. " 
 
A GREAT DAY FOR TALKING. 91 
 
 " He sure fooled the old man." 
 
 And so the changes were rung on all the exclama- 
 tions the crowd could think of. The talk continued 
 on this subject until dinner was over, and then as a 
 fine, drizzling rain was falling, conversation drifted 
 into other channels, while the men crowded around 
 the big fireplace. Harvey started the ball by laughing 
 at Fly's hunt after a bear. 
 
 " When you and Brown took those two big bears 
 out of the country and told of the eleven others you 
 had seen, these fellows up here thought you didn't 
 know a thing about hunting or you would have got 
 the whole lot. What they know about hunting bear 
 or anything else I don't know, but from the way they 
 talked you would have thought the woods were full 
 of bear-hunters. Fly, Beaty, Levette, and some others 
 got up a big bear-hunt, and from the preparations 
 they made one would have supposed they were going 
 to have all the game in the woods. They were each 
 going to have a bear-skin overcoat, and Rhea and 
 me were each going to have a skin apiece for rugs. 
 They borrowed every old shooting-iron on the place 
 except that old cap-and-ball pistol of mine and started 
 out. They wouldn't take provisions with them, for 
 they said it was a mighty poor hunter that couldn't 
 kill his own meat. They all 'lowed that the pro- 
 fessor was a good deer-hunter, but he didn't know a 
 little bit about bear. As they pulled out up the hill, 
 Fly he hollered back to Rhea and said: *When you 
 see us coming down the mountain put the skillet on 
 with plenty of grease, for we'll have bear-liver for 
 supper. ' 
 
92 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 " Well, when they got away I took your old bear- 
 trap down the canon and set it. A bear had been 
 around the night before where a calf had died, and I 
 thought I might get him in the trap. We got a 
 bear in the trap sure enough, and when they came 
 down the mountain Rhea had a good mess of liver in 
 the pan frying for them. Talk about hungry wolves. 
 Those fellers were the hungriest set you ever saw. 
 They hadn't had a square meal since they left, and 
 as soon as they got in the house they began grabbing 
 everything in sight. They couldn't wait for dinner, 
 but took cheese, crackers, and everything else they 
 could lay their hands on. Well, they sat down and 
 began eating. They couldn't tell what kind of meat 
 it was. They thought it tasted like liver, but knew 
 I hadn't butchered, and when they asked, we told 
 them it was the bear's liver they told us to cook." 
 
 The others here broke in with so many interrup- 
 tions that Harvey was compelled to desist. But he 
 had told his story, and now it was Fly's time to tell 
 what he knew. 
 
 " I'll tell you that story straight. I've been listen- 
 ing to them talk for the last two years and I've got 
 the whole thing straight. I'm onto the true in- 
 wardness of the whole business. We had a hard 
 time up in the mountains after the bear we didn't 
 get, and when we got back we had the bear-liver for 
 supper all right enough, but you never saw two such 
 scared people in all your born days as Harvey and 
 his wife. I knew there was something back of their 
 story, so I just kept my ears open, and this is the 
 story of 'how we killed the bear. ' 
 
A QBE AT DAY FOE TALKING. 93 
 
 " Harvey set the trap down the canon and an old 
 foolish black bear came along and got his foot in 
 it. Next morning Harvey went down to milk, and 
 when he saw that the trap was gone he ran back and 
 went clear through the house before he could stop. 
 He dropped the milk-pails and went yelling at every 
 jump, so badly scared that he almost fainted. Mrs. 
 Harvey was so frightened that she couldn't say a 
 word. Harvey ran to the gun-rack and then began 
 cussin' us fellows for taking away all his guns. Then 
 he tore around in the bedroom and out in the kitchen 
 until Mrs. Harvey found her voice and asked: 
 * What's the trouble. High?' 'A bear! a bear!' was 
 all the answer she got, for just then Harvey found 
 his pistol and bolted off down after the bear. Mrs. 
 Harvey followed with the axe, calling for High to 
 come back or he would be killed. 
 
 " They rushed down to the corral where the trap 
 had been, and sure enough it was gone. 'It was 
 right here, Rhea. See, it is gone. Look where he 
 tore up the brush. There he is — there he is ! Get 
 back, Rhea; you don't know anything about hunting 
 bear. Get back, I say : if he should get here he would 
 kill you, ' Harvey kept yelling at the top of his voice, 
 and then Mrs. Harvey would chime in, telling Harvey 
 to keep back or he would be killed. She grabbed his 
 arm and hung on, telling him not to go close to the 
 bear, and then Allie came running down to see what 
 it was all about, and Mrs. Harvey had a time of it 
 trying to keep them both from the bear. Harvey 
 shot all six loads from the revolver into the bear, but 
 it never stopped him. Then they had to go back to 
 
94 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 the house to load up again. Mrs. Harvey begged 
 High to let AUie go over to Hanson's ranch for 
 help, and this made Harvey mad, because she thought 
 he was not able to kill his own bear. Harvey put 
 six more balls into the bear, and by this time the 
 poor fellow got tangled up with the trap-chain and 
 Harvey knocked him in the head with an axe." . 
 
 " Well, I want to know !" said Harvey. *' Do you 
 believe that story, Dyche?" 
 
 " Well, I don't know how you killed it, Harvey, but 
 I do know that you sent me a fine black bear-skin 
 with a dozen bullet-holes in it. The skull had been 
 mashed, too." 
 
 Dyche decided to make another trip to old Camp 
 Bear Trail before the summer was over. The even- 
 ing before the start was made Dyche took the shot- 
 gun, loaded with dust-shot, and went around the 
 meadow looking for bird specimens. Eames was 
 carrying the rifle and wandered off to one side. 
 Suddenly Dyche heard the well-known "thump, 
 thump" of a frightened deer as it dashed through 
 the wood, and he hurried to the edge of the timber to 
 get a look at it. An old doe was just disappearing 
 in the woods, and about thirty yards behind her was 
 a beautiful fawn. About the same distance back of 
 the fawn was Eames, going at break-neck speed, 
 shouting at the top of his voice, " Here, here it is. 
 Professor !" The doe bounded over the pole fence, 
 and the fawn ran along trying to find a hole to go 
 through. 
 
 " Quick, give me the rifle, " said Dyche. 
 
 "The rifle? why, I set it down by the fence and 
 
A GREAT DAY FOR TALKING. 95 
 
 tried to catch the fawn. I'd have got it, too, if it 
 hadn't been for the fence." 
 
 " Catch the wind ! Why, that fawn can outrun 
 any man. The old doe would have been as easily 
 caught." 
 
 "Don't you fool yourself. I'd have caught it, 
 sure. " 
 
 " Our old dog Jack has tried to catch that fawn 
 a dozen times," said Allie, "but he never gets any 
 nearer to it than you were. " 
 
 A disagreeable incident marred the pleasure of the 
 final visit to Camp Bear Trail, and Mrs. Dyche had 
 occasion to learn by experience what a real mountain 
 storm could do. While the train was passing 
 through a tract of burned timber, where there was 
 no shelter of any kind, a storm broke suddenly, the 
 first wa rning being a clap of thunder. It rained a 
 little and then hail poured down as if from an ele- 
 vator chute. Eames and Dyche bunched the burros 
 and covered them with rubber blankets, and under 
 this hastily improvised shelter Mrs. Dyche crawled, 
 staying until the storm was over. It lasted for half 
 an hour and then continued with intermissions, 
 alternately raining and hailing all the afternoon. 
 It was late in the evening when a fire was started 
 at the old camp, and, suffering with toothache, 
 earache, and headache, Mrs. Dyche longed for civ- 
 ilisation. 
 
 Rain continued so steadily that they decided to 
 return to Harvey's, and the party reached there, wet, 
 bedraggled, and worn out. While making their 
 arrangements to return to civilisation, the mountain 
 
96 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 streams were running torrents from the heavy rains. 
 Over the top of Hermit's Peak rushed a magnificent 
 waterfall, about eight feet broad at the top, changing 
 to a fine mist before it reached the bottom of the 
 canon, a thousand feet below. 
 

 a 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In Indian Territory — A Frontier Fiddler — Life in a Dugout — 
 Wild Turkeys, Wildcats, and other Wild Things— Surviv- 
 ing a Blizzard — An Indian Dance — An Embarrassed Pro- 
 fessor — Successful Hunting — The Extinction of the Wild 
 Turkey. 
 
 |N the approach of the next Christmas va- 
 cation, Dyche arranged to make a collec- 
 tion of the noblest game-bird in the 
 world, the American wild turkey. With 
 Professor Robinson, a veteran quail and rabbit hunter, 
 he started for the Indian Territory, and a raw Decem- 
 ber day found the two at Caldwell, Kansas, wrestling 
 with a mob of hackmen and omnibus drivers. This 
 was the terminus of the railroad leading to the land 
 of the Indians. 
 
 Engaging a light wagon, drawn by a stout pair of 
 " buckskin" ponies, they reached Pond Creek just at 
 dusk on the following day. A " dance" was in pro- 
 gress, and had been going on for the last twenty-four 
 hours. A tall Arkansan, called " Short" on account 
 of his size, was sawing away industriously at a fiddle, 
 producing sounds which, by a good stretch of a vivid 
 imagination, might be called music. The vigour 
 of the dancers was evidence that his well-meant 
 efforts were fully appreciated by the congregated 
 cowboys and their partners. It was the event of the 
 
 97 
 
98 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 season, and visitors were there from ranches miles 
 away. Cowboys and Cherokee half-breeds were out 
 in full force, and, to supply a deficiency of ladies, 
 dresses were put on several of the cowboys, who acted 
 the feminine part to the satisfaction of all. 
 
 "Short don't play music outen er book," volun- 
 teered the lady of the house, " but he plays real tunes. 
 He don't know a note from a cow-track, but he gets 
 every thin' outen er fiddle there is in it, he does. He's 
 ther best fiddler in the hull country, he is, and he 
 allers stops till ther dance is done, too, he does. This 
 is nothin' now. You jest orter bin here las' night. 
 There were over fifty here, and ther cowboys thet 
 danced for girls was real good ones, too. It was 
 ther best dance we ever had. Some er ther boys got 
 a little too much licker, but ever 'thin' went off real 
 nice." 
 
 Short continued his fiddling, and the cowboys kept 
 time to the rhythm by patting their feet and hands, 
 making such a noise that the tired travellers could not 
 sleep. During the progress of the entertainment a 
 deputy sheriff came in with a prisoner, whom he 
 was taking to Caldwell to jail. The ofiicer got so 
 interested in the dancing that he forgot his prisoner, 
 and the latter coolly walked out of the door and dis- 
 appeared. He was not missed for some time, and 
 then search was made for him with a lantern, but he 
 made good use of his time and was not found. 
 
 Thompson's ranch, on the Cimarron River, sixty 
 miles away, had been determined upon as headquar- 
 ters for the hunt, and as the noise of the dancing pre- 
 vented sleep, Dyche and the professor started early. 
 
LIFE IN A DUGOUT. 99 
 
 and at daj^break were on the banks of the river. The 
 road went directly to the water's edge, and could be 
 seen emerging from the other side, almost imme- 
 diately opposite. Confident that they were at the 
 ford the hunters drove in. The water was soon up 
 to the sides of the horses, and the wagon was almost 
 floating. There was evidently a mistake somewhere, 
 but there was nothing to be done but go on, and after 
 a hard struggle the opposite bank was reached. They 
 afterwards learned that the road went down the river 
 some distance before it crossed, and then came back 
 on the other side to the point where it could be seen. 
 
 Thompson's ranch was reached at dark. The 
 house, or dugout, was a hole in a bank with a door 
 in front, but no windows. It was filled with cow- 
 boys, who were very hospitable and helped to care for 
 the ponies and got supper for the travellers. Pipes 
 were brought out after supper, and the ill-ventilated 
 room was soon so filled with smoke that Dyche and 
 the professor, who were not smokers, were compelled 
 to make frequent trips to the open air for a chance to 
 breathe. 
 
 In the course of the evening it was learned that 
 there was a turkey-roost about two miles down the 
 creek, and one of the cowboys volunteering to guide 
 the hunters, they made the trip. They had the 
 pleasure of seeing a lot of squirrel nests, and returned 
 to the hut after midnight. 
 
 Early next morning, with heads dull from sleep- 
 ing in the atmosphere of tobacco smoke, Dyche and 
 Robinson started for a hunt with cowboy guides. 
 Robinson and Cimarron Jim went down the river, 
 
100 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 while Dyche and Buckskin Joe took the opposite 
 direction. While working along through the patches 
 of scrub -oak and over sand ridges, the latter two sud- 
 denly came upon a flock of about seventy-five turkeys. 
 Joe at once put spurs to his horse and rode after 
 them. Dyche was compelled to follow, and after a 
 chase of about two hundred yards they were almost 
 on the turkeys. They jumped from their horses, but 
 before they could get their guns ready the turkeys 
 disappeared over a hill. The race was repeated with 
 the same success several times. At last Joe shot 
 from his horse, and the flock flew and sailed out of 
 sight over the thicket of oak bushes. A query from 
 D^^che elicited the answer that this was one of the 
 chief ways of hunting vrild turkeys among the cow- 
 boys. 
 
 A mile further they came upon three deer feeding, 
 and were within seventy-five yards of them when 
 they were seen. Without waiting for the man whom 
 he was engaged to guide, Joe jumped from his saddle 
 and pumped bullets after the deer as fast as he could 
 work the lever of his Winchester. The deer disap- 
 peared over the hill, but Joe affirmed that he had 
 shot one through behind the shoulders, while he had 
 hit another twice as it was going over the hill. 
 Tying the horses to a swinging limb the trail of the 
 deer was followed, but no sign of blood or a wounded 
 animal was to be found. 
 
 The day was cold, but the unusual exercise of walk- 
 ing heated Joe to such an extent that he took off his 
 overcoat and hung it to a tree. Half a mile further on 
 he discarded his chqperellos, or leggings, and hung 
 
LIFE IN A DUGOUT. 101 
 
 them up, intending to return for them on his horse. 
 It soon became evident, however, that the cowboy 
 was lost and could not find the horses. Dyche and 
 Joe not being able to agree as to the proper direction 
 to take, separated with the understanding that a 
 signal shot was to be fired when the horses were 
 found. 
 
 After an hour's walking Dyche found Joe's horse, 
 loose and grazing, but his own was nowhere to be 
 seen. His signal brought the cowboy, who imme- 
 diately mounted the animal and rode off after his 
 clothing, saying that he would return and take Dyche 
 to camp. As night was now coming on Dyche did 
 not wait, but started for the ranch, which he reached 
 just at dark. It was three hours later when Joe 
 came in, tired out and without either overcoat or 
 leggings. 
 
 At midnight the noise made by some one stumbling 
 into the dugout aroused everyone. It was Robin- 
 son, who was almost exhausted. He and Cimarron 
 Jim had intended to stay all night at the hog ranch, 
 but the guide got lost and wandered away, leaving 
 the professor to look out for himself. Finding neither 
 hogs, ranch, nor man, the professor made his way 
 back to the home ranch, leaving his blankets with 
 Jim. Knowing that the professor needed rest, Dyche 
 gave up his sleeping-bag and said he would go out 
 and hunt a little. As he shut the door he heard one 
 of the cowboys remark : 
 
 "Well, that feller wants turkeys worse than I do." 
 
 The night was cold and frosty, and the stars gave 
 sufficient light for Dyche to make his way up Turkey 
 
102 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 Creek. He walked slowly, examining all the hawk 
 nests and other bunches in the trees, which in the 
 dim light took on odd shapes, and in some instances 
 resembled turkeys. Everything was quiet, and not 
 even the hoot of an owl broke the stillness. While 
 thinking of the lonesomeness a scratching and scram- 
 bling on the ice of the creek attracted his attention, 
 and Dyche saw a black object moving near a water- 
 hole. Thinking it was a raccoon he sent a load of 
 shot at it, and it spread out on the ice. Drawing it 
 ashore with a long pole, Dyche tied its legs together 
 and prepared to hang it to the limb of a tree, when 
 the peculiar feeling of its tail induced him to light a 
 match to see his prize. He found that he had killed 
 a magnificent otter. 
 
 Wandering up the creek for an hour or two longer, 
 he was just on the point of turning back when he 
 espied a large object roosting in the top of a tall Cot- 
 tonwood tree. After watching it for some time he 
 decided that it was a big gobbler and fired a shot 
 at it, taking the best aim that he could in the dim 
 light. The bird came down with a thump which told 
 that the shot had been fatal. Tying its feet together 
 and hanging it to a tree, Dyche found by the light of 
 a match that he had killed a large golden eagle. 
 
 After dinner next day Dyche started alone for the 
 jack-oak thickets. He had had enough of cowboy 
 guides and severed all connection with Joe. He made 
 his way slowly through the thicket, over the low sand- 
 hills, for two or three miles. Numerous places where 
 turkeys had scratched away leaves searching for food 
 were found. An occasional coyote was seen skulking 
 
WILD TURKEYS, WILDCATS, ETC. 103 
 
 through the bushes, and now and then he had 
 glimpses of white-tailed deer. Golden eagles were 
 sailing above, and quails and prairie-chickens were 
 flushed in innumerable coveys. Finally a bunch of 
 twenty-five turkeys was seen running over a hill, 
 and a circuitous route was taken to head them off. A 
 careful stalk placed him within forty yards of three 
 of the birds which were scratching on a knoll, when 
 the warning " pit, pit " told him he had been seen. A 
 load of shot brought down a fine gobbler, weighing 
 eighteen and a half pounds. As this was Dyche's 
 first turkey and was a load of itself, the hunter was 
 satisfied and immediately returned to the ranch. 
 
 Approaching the ranch, he heard a fusillade which 
 sounded as if a battle was in progress. Thirty or forty 
 shots were fired within fifteen minutes, and the men 
 were evidently working their Winchesters as rapidly 
 as possible. Cimarron Jim, who was cooking, had 
 left his fire and was saddling his horse, while the others 
 were not to be seen. Dyche and Jim were soon in 
 the saddle and going in the direction of the sound. 
 At the head of a ravine were the two other cowboys, 
 riding and shooting. Jim rode straight for the 
 scene, while Dyche circled around the head of the 
 ravine, which he reached just in time to see a large 
 wildcat emerge from the brush and start across the 
 open space. Putting spurs to his horse, Dyche 
 headed the animal off and started it in another direc- 
 tion, towards the timber. Again riding around it he 
 drove it back, and while thus keeping it in the open- 
 ing the cowboys on the other side of the ridge were 
 almost splitting their throats yelling. Finally the 
 
104 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 cat made a straight run for the timber, and Dyche 
 tried a flying shot at it with a charge of double- O 
 shot, which tore up the ground all around the animal. 
 The cat immmediately sat down and began to snarl 
 and growl. Riding close, Dyche removed all the 
 shot from a cartridge except about a dozen and killed 
 the cat. One shot from the first load had hit it close 
 to the spine, causing it suddenly to sit down. 
 
 The cowboys insisted that there was another cat in 
 the thicket, and a search was made which soon drove 
 the animal out. It came running along a cow- path 
 towards Dyche, who waited until the animal was 
 within twenty-five feet of him. Seeing the hunter 
 the cat crouched in the cow-path. It was too close 
 for a shot with the heavy load in the gun, and Dyche 
 got down from his horse and began extracting the 
 shot. The cat waited, showing its teeth and snarling, 
 tmtil a dozen number 3 shot ended its career. 
 
 Next day Dyche found a buck and doe and killed 
 the former. Robinson came in with two fine turkey 
 hens, and these, with several prairie-chickens and 
 other small game, made a very respectable showing 
 for the three-days' hunt. Robinson's time was up, 
 however, and he was compelled to return to his home. 
 Dyche accompanied him to Caldwell, and there pre- 
 pared for a longer hunt. He made arrangements 
 with three white men and an Indian for transporta- 
 tion to Fort Reno, starting the same afternoon on the 
 journey of one hundred and fifteen miles. 
 
 Dyche had discovered that a man's blankets were 
 considered public property, and in order to get rid of 
 troublesome bedfellows and at the same time secure 
 
SURVIVING A BLIZZARD. 105 
 
 the greatest possible benefit from his bed, he had a 
 sleeping-bag made of his bedding. The blankets 
 were sewed together in the shape of a bag, and the 
 whole was covered with heavy canvas. This " poke" 
 excited the risibilities of his companions, but Dyche 
 had the satisfaction of getting rid of certain insects 
 which make very disagreeable sleeping companions. 
 The first night's camp was made in the open prairie, 
 and when the men saw how warmly Dyche slept 
 while they shivered with cold all night, each vowed 
 he would have a "sleeping-poke" as soon as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 About four o'clock in the afternoon of the third day 
 a blizzard came upon them suddenly, while they were 
 on the open prairie and far from shelter. The blind- 
 ing storm soon prevented all travel, and they un- 
 hitched the horses, tying them on the leeward side 
 of the wagons, while the boxes and bags from the 
 load were piled up as a partial protection from the cut- 
 ting wind. Putting their blankets together, the three 
 white men lay down " spoon fashion" to keep warm. 
 The Indian found an old buffalo- wallow and spread 
 his blankets there in the high grass and weeds. 
 Dyche followed the example of the Indian and 
 crawled into his sleeping-bag, which he fastened 
 down by the canvas. He was soon fast asleep, and 
 did not awaken until he felt the Indian pulling at his 
 bedding next morning, to see if he was alive. 
 
 The others were all alive, but were so cold and 
 worn out that they could barely stir. Driving to the 
 river a fire was started, and hot coffee and breakfast 
 soon put new life into the party. Pushing on they 
 
106 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 reached Darlington, just across the river from Fort 
 Reno, next day, Christmas eve. Dyche had a letter 
 of introduction to the Indian agent. Colonel John D. 
 Miles, who immediately took charge of the naturalist 
 as his guest. 
 
 Colonel Miles was something of a sportsrnan him- 
 self, and readily gave information regarding the game 
 of the Territory. His advice was that Dyche should 
 go to Fort Cantonment, and arrangements were made 
 that night with the driver of the buckboard that car- 
 ried the mail, to take the hunter the sixty-five miles 
 across the country to the fort. 
 
 The trip was to be made in one day, and the sour- 
 visaged driver seemed doubtful as to Dyche's abil- 
 ity to stand it ; but the latter said he could if any- 
 one else could, and they started. After ten miles of 
 the roughest riding Dyche had ever experienced, he 
 got out a strap and fastened himself to the seat. The 
 cold wind blew across the bleak prairie at the rate of 
 forty miles an hour, and by the time the half-way 
 dugout was reached the naturalist was chilled to the 
 bone. The driver told him that they changed drivers 
 and teams there, and that if he thought he could not 
 stand the rest of the trip he could stay there until the 
 next change, two days later. Dyche thanked him 
 for the offer, but said he thought he could go the 
 rest of the way. On a table in the dugout was a big 
 corn-pone and an immense turkey, cooked to perfec- 
 tion. He needed no second invitation from the 
 young man who was preparing to take the old 
 driver's place, to help himself. With the drumstick 
 and second joint in one hand and a huge piece of 
 
SURVIVING A BLIZZARD. 107 
 
 corn-bread in the other, he prepared to eat his Christ- 
 mas dinner as he travelled. 
 
 The change of drivers was very acceptable, for the 
 young fellow told many stories of interesting inci- 
 dents of life among the Indians. While they were 
 ascending a steep bank after crossing a small stream, 
 the young fellow began peering into the bushes, and 
 remarked that there were a good many deer in that 
 vicinity. Suddenly he stopped and whispered : 
 
 " There's one now. Don't you see him?" 
 
 Looking in the direction pointed, Dyche saw a 
 magnificent pair of antlers and a large body dimly 
 showing in the bushes. 
 
 " Get down quick and get out your gun, " whispered 
 the driver. " He's a big fellow." 
 
 As the guns were strapped under the seat, Dyche 
 answered that it was too cold and he was too stiff 
 to shoot. Driving towards the deer the young man 
 showed a cunningly contrived ruse. A deer's antlers 
 were fastened to a stump and a gunny-sack formed 
 the body. 
 
 " I have seen over a hundred shots fired at that 
 deer," said he, and from the appearance of the trees 
 and bushes in the vicinity he undoubtedly told the 
 truth. The fort was reached just at dark, and Dyche 
 was cared for by Decker, the Indian trader. 
 
 For three days a blizzard howled, and during that 
 time all hunting was an impossibility; but Dyche 
 spent the time of enforced idleness in getting ac- 
 quainted with the Indians of the vicinity, and learn- 
 ing from them the condition of the country and the 
 haunts of game. When the storm broke, Dyche took 
 
108 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 the advice of Little Raven, an Arrapahoe chief, and 
 went to the big cattle ranch of Dickey brothers with 
 Sam Horton, the foreman, who had been detained at 
 the fort during the storm. 
 
 The ranch occupied a stretch of country fifty miles 
 square, and the home ranch was a cluster of eight or 
 ten log houses and stables, where the men congregated 
 during the winter. This was headquarters, and was 
 the base of supplies for the outlying ranches. Half 
 a mile from this ranch was the winter camp of old 
 Coho, a Cheyenne chief of great importance, and this 
 camp was the place of resort and amusement for the 
 thirty or forty men who made the home ranch their 
 abiding-place during the winter. 
 
 The ranch was reached just before supper, and the 
 meal was hardly over when the men began leaving 
 by twos and threes, until the house was deserted by 
 all except Dyche, Horton, and the old French cook, 
 who, in response to Dyche's inquiries for the rea- 
 son of this strange disappearance, said " the squaw 
 bumpers gone to the Injun dance." 
 
 Horton proposed that they should also go to see the 
 fun, and the two were soon at the tepee of old Coho, 
 which they entered without ceremony. Horton pre- 
 sented Dyche to the old chief, who sat on a roll of 
 blankets between his two daughters, Zilpha and Cesso- 
 nia. The chief was attired in buckskin leggings, with 
 a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, while the 
 two young squaws were dressed in pink calico gowns 
 with red striped shawls thrown over their heads. 
 Around the tepee sat other bucks and squaws, dressed 
 much after the fashion of whites, with the exception 
 
AN INDIAN DANCE. 109 
 
 that all wore moccasins and had blankets instead of 
 overcoats. 
 
 After paying his respects to the old chieftain, 
 Dyche followed the advice of Horton and purchased 
 two pairs of moccasins from the girls, paying double 
 price therefor, and thus winning the old fellow's 
 favour. Following the presentation the whole party 
 went to a large tepee, where the dance was to be 
 given. In the centre of a room about thirty feet in 
 diameter was built a fire in the most economical 
 fashion, the sticks radiating from the blaze like 
 spokes in a wheel. Around the wall, on rolls of 
 blankets, sat about twenty-five squaws and two-thirds 
 as many cowboys, with a number of young bucks. 
 The sound of the "devil's fiddle," a peculiar drum 
 made from a hollow log over which are stretched raw 
 cowskins, was heard. Around this drum sat five 
 Indians with short sticks, and they monotonously 
 beat the drum in perfect unison, hitting it at inter- 
 vals of about a second and a half in regular time, the 
 "thump, thump" filling the whole room. To assist 
 in the musical effort the five bucks set up a howl, 
 prolonged, guttural, and undulating, rising and fall- 
 ing with regular rhythm and cadence. In this song 
 the other bucks joined at intervals at their pleasure,, 
 while occasionally the squaws would unite their high 
 falsetto voices in a most peculiar sound which they 
 produced with lips and teeth and the tips of their 
 fingers inserted in their mouths. The scene was 
 weird in the extreme, and the darkened tepee, filled 
 with a motley crowd of red and white men, sitting in 
 the flitting lights and shadows of the fire and listen- 
 
110 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 ing to the wild, barbaric music, brought back to the 
 mind of the naturalist the scenes with which he had 
 been so familiar in childhood. 
 
 The monotonous sound increased in volume, and 
 then the signal for the dance was given. Two squaws 
 selected one man, and the three took their places in 
 the circle, continuing until the circle was complete. 
 The ten cowboys and their twenty squaws then began 
 a peculiar " crow-hopping " dance, varied with a heel- 
 and-toe motion, each movement being made in uni- 
 son, the circle rising and falling to the sound of the 
 drum. For an hour the performance continued, 
 and then an intermission was taken, while one 
 of the musicians passed a hat — this was the only 
 ceremony which he had retained from the teaching 
 of the missionaries. The result of the collection be- 
 ing satisfactory, the performance began again, and 
 continued with these hourly intermissions and hat- 
 passings until daylight. 
 
 In the intermissions the squaws varied the enter- 
 tainment by occasionally throwing their shawls 
 over the heads of the cowboys, as an intima- 
 tion that on the payment of a quarter the cowboy 
 could have the privilege of kissing the squaw. To 
 Dyche the price seemed exorbitant, but the cowboy 
 taste appeared to be different, and they eagerly ac- 
 cepted the invitation. During the evening the 
 naturalist had been an interested onlooker, with no 
 idea of joining in the fun ; but Zilpha and Cessonia 
 had been so favourably impressed with his generosity 
 in giving them double price for their moccasins that 
 they asked him to be their partner in a dance. He 
 
AN EMBARRASSED PROFESSOR. Ill 
 
 was disposed to decline, but Horton advised him 
 uot to offend them, as they had paid a very high 
 compliment to a stranger. Giving a reluctant con- 
 sent he took his place in the ring, and the lu- 
 dicrous figure cut by the hunter was such that 
 Indians and cowboys kept up one continuous howl 
 of laughter. 
 
 Horton, meanwhile, was scheming to have a little 
 more fun at the expense of the innocent naturalist, 
 and while the latter 's attention was distracted, he 
 gave Cessonia a dollar to catch Dyche and kiss him, 
 while to Zilpha was given fifty cents to assist in the 
 operation. Sitting by the side of Dyche, Cessonia 
 suddenly whirled her shawl over his head and tried 
 to draw him to her. He was too quick for her, how- 
 ever, and slipped to the ground and out of the shawl. 
 Then began a race which afforded more amusement 
 for the assembled cowboys and Indians than they had 
 had for years. A second throw of the shawl, supple- 
 mented by Zilpha's strength, held Dyche. The two 
 squaws, who had arms like prize-fighters, were more 
 than a match for the naturalist, and they got him to the 
 floor, where, after rolling over the ground from one 
 side to the other, and almost tearing down the tepee 
 in their struggles, Cessonia succeeded in planting a 
 kiss all over one side of Dyche 's face, from the mouth 
 to the ear. 
 
 Fully satisfied with what he had seen and experi- 
 enced, Dyche decided to return to the ranch, and to 
 aU of Horton's entreaties to wait for supper, which 
 was just then brought in, he turned a deaf ear. This 
 supper was a leirge kettle of meat and soup, flanked 
 
113 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 by stacks of thin loaves of bread, all of which was 
 eagerly eaten by the assembled guests. 
 
 A wagon of supplies was sent to Loco camp, about 
 fifteen miles away, and Dyche went there with a 
 letter from Horton to the man in charge. The hunt- 
 ing outfit was shipped on the wagon, while Dyche fol- 
 lowed on "old Weazel," a horse highly recommended 
 for his good qualities. During the following ten 
 days Dyche had no cause to regret his selection, for 
 the horse was a perfect hunter. 
 
 He was now in the heart of the turkey country, 
 and a preliminary skirmish that evening convinced 
 him that there were several fiocks in the vicinity. 
 Early next morning he rode to Wolf Creek, four miles 
 away, and while travelling carefully he suddenly 
 came upon a fiock of twenty-five or thirty turkeys, 
 scratching under a bunch of jack-oak trees. He was 
 seen, however, and in order to get around them he 
 rode back out of sight, and then made a careful stalk. 
 He was disappointed, and when he reached the place 
 where the birds had been, they had disappeared. 
 One turkey was soon seen running over a distant 
 ridge, and Dyche hurried after it, getting another 
 sight just as it was going over a second hill. A 
 quick shot secured it, and with the sound half a 
 dozen others rose from the grass and weeds, and one 
 more was killed as they started to fly over the hilL 
 Carrying his two specimens, which were fine old hens, 
 to the horse, Dyche started for the ranch, satisfied 
 with his first day's work. On the way down the 
 creek he noticed another flock. Hiding in the bushes 
 he watched them for over an hour, noticing especially 
 
SUCCESSFUL HUNTING. 113 
 
 their carriage and modes of living. He was satis- 
 fied with his study and a fine gobbler was killed. 
 He took the three birds to the ranch, where they 
 were prepared for future use. From the contents of 
 the crops of the birds it was seen that the winter 
 food consisted principally of acorns, a pint of which, 
 shells and all, were found in each crop. With these 
 were seeds of various plants, and one had eaten freely 
 of wild grapes, which hung dried on the vines. 
 
 Next morning Dyche went again to Wolf Creek, 
 and leaving Weazel feeding at the mouth of the 
 stream in a grassy spot, he went up the creek on foot. 
 A turkey calling in the distance attracted his atten- 
 tion, and while stalking it he came upon a large flock 
 of over a hundred birds on a sand-bar, where they 
 were sunning themselves. Some were scratching 
 and dusting their feathers, while others walked about 
 and picked up morsels of food. Occasionally an old 
 hen would raise her head and give a loud call. Fully 
 an hour was consumed in working around to a high 
 bank, fifty yards from the flock, and here Dyche lay 
 for some time watching the movements of the birds. 
 Selecting a bunch of five, he sent a load of double- O 
 shot into it. There was a roar as of a cyclone as 
 that magnificent flock rose into the air and sailed 
 away. He sent the load from the other barrel after 
 them, and the double volley brought down four hens, 
 which made a heavy load to carry back to the place 
 where he had left the horse. On the way down the 
 creek a fine gobbler was added to the bag, being shot 
 on the wing as it started to fly. 
 
 Next day the same ground was worked again, and 
 
114 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 two hens were killed out of a bunch which started out 
 of the bushes. A few yards farther on a gray wolf 
 came trotting down the ravine, and was knocked over 
 with a load of shot ; but before Dyche could get to 
 him he recovered his feet and went into the brush. 
 A large amount of blood was left, but the animal suc- 
 ceeded in getting away. Two more turkeys, fine 
 gobblers, were shot on the return, after dark, from 
 the trees where they were roosting. 
 
 The following day was lost by going out with the 
 cowboys hunting deer, and the sixth day was so 
 stormy that all were compelled to keep in -doors. 
 Next day found Dyche again on Wolf Creek, and 
 while watching for a flock of turkeys a wolf came 
 down the ravine. A charge of double-0 shot from 
 " old Vesuvius" knocked him over, and this one did 
 not get up again. A short distance further a flock of 
 turkeys was scared out of the bushes and a hen and 
 gobbler killed. These were hung to a tree and the 
 hunt continued. Half a mile farther on a white- 
 tailed deer was seen standing on its hind-feet, with 
 its fore- feet swinging in the air as it nipped the buds 
 from the lower limbs of a tree. The gun had turkey- 
 shot shells in the barrels, and while the deer was not 
 over fifty yards away, the hunter thought he would 
 make sure of it by changing the shells. While so 
 doing a shot slipped into the lock, but during five 
 minutes of nervous work the deer did not get scared 
 and continued to browse. Both barrels were fired 
 to make sure of the shot, and the deer dropped dead 
 within fifty yards of the spot where it had been 
 eating. 
 
SUCCESSFUL HUNTING. 115 
 
 Dyche now started back for the horse, and on the 
 way down killed a gobbler. With the three turkeys, 
 a deer, and a wolf on the horse he made his way to- 
 wards the ranch ; but before reaching it secured two 
 more of the beautiful birds. As old Weazel had 
 about as much of a load as he could well carry, Dyche 
 walked the seven miles to the ranch, leading the 
 horse. 
 
 Three more days in the woods added four turkeys 
 and a wildcat to the total. The results of the hunt 
 with his baggage were taken to Fort Cantonment in 
 one of the ranch wagons, and just as he reached 
 there a big freight wagon passed along from the ap- 
 ple ranch, going to Caldwell for supplies. The driver 
 was lonesome and was glad of Dyche 's company, so 
 a bargain was soon struck and the luggage piled in 
 the wagon. 
 
 Ten days of uncomfortable travelling, during which 
 the whole outfit came near being lost by attempting 
 to cross the Cimarron on the ice, brought them to 
 their journey's end. While camped on the banks of 
 the Cimarron, two cowboys undertook to have fun 
 with the " tenderfoot, " as they termed Dyche, and 
 invited him to take a deer-hunt with them. Tak- 
 ing him to a bunch of jack-oaks they told him he 
 would be sure to find deer in there, and advised him 
 to crawl through and scare out the animals, while 
 they would remain on the outside and shoot them as 
 they ran out. Dyche noticed sundry smiles and 
 winks, and fully understood the part he was to play 
 in the little comedy. Crawling into the bushes he 
 made his way carefully along one of the little trails. 
 
116 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 While creeping in this way he saw a doe standing 
 about thirty yards away, and a shot dropped her in 
 her tracks. A buck, which had been lying down, 
 jumped out, and a second shot brought him down. 
 Tying his handkerchief to a bush to mark the spot, 
 Dyche hurried out to where the cowboys were wait- 
 ing. In a very excited manner he asked if they had 
 seen the deer. None had passed that way, and when 
 Dyche told them that he had seen two the excitement 
 spread, and the cowboys now dashed into the bushes ; 
 but when they reached the dead deer with the hand- 
 kerchief flying they concluded that the man they had 
 sent into the bushes to play dog was no tenderfoot. 
 
 In this hunt after the finest game-bird in the world, 
 Dyche not only secured a number of excellent speci- 
 mens, but learned much about the habits of the wild 
 turkey. He was aware of the fact that they be- 
 gin to lay about the first of April, and laid from a 
 dozen to fifteen eggs, but there was much about their 
 winter life which he did not know and which this 
 trip taught him. The birds of the Territory are 
 slightly different from those of New Mexico, with 
 brighter plumage and more distinct marking in 
 colours. In summer the food of the birds is governed 
 by the supply, being composed of insects, principally 
 grasshoppers, and buds and berries. In winter the 
 birds exist almost entirely on dried grapes, buds, and 
 seeds, and especially acorns. 
 
 The cowboys said they had regular roosts, and 
 showed Dyche places where they said they had seen 
 thousands at a time in the trees ; but the pot-hunters 
 are after them, and this noble game-bird will go the 
 
EXTINCTION OF THE WILD TURKEY. 117 
 
 way of the buffalo and be a thing of the past, unless 
 vigourous means of protection are soon taken. The 
 birds were formerly seen from Maine to Florida and 
 from the Pacific to the Atlantic oceans, being more or 
 less common along the wooded streams of the United 
 States. Now they are scarce, and will soon be classed 
 among the rarest birds. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 In the Cascades — Extermination of Many Species of Animals 
 — Something about the Rocky Mountain Goat — An 
 Arduous Journey — The Cascades Reached — Wholesale 
 Hunters — In Camp — A Failure. 
 
 )T is a fact well known to every reader 
 that the American buffalo, or bison, 
 is now practically extinct as a wild spe- 
 cies. A few years more and this will 
 also be true of such animals as the elk, moose, Rocky 
 Mountain sheep and goats, caribou, musk ox, lion or 
 puma, gray wolf and bears, while' deer, foxes-, and nu- 
 merous other smaller animals will become very rare. 
 The moose formerly ranged from Maine to Idaho 
 and was quite common in all suitable parts of the 
 northern tier of States and Territories. During the 
 past few years only a few stragglers have been re- 
 ported in these places. It is but a few years since 
 the beaver was said to be one of the most common 
 wild animals in the State of New York. It is now 
 questionable whether there is a single wild beaver in 
 the State. Twenty years ago beaver were common 
 along all the streams of Kansas. Ten years ago they 
 were often found. Now they are rare, and in less 
 than ten years there will not be a wild one, except by 
 chance, in the State. Buffalo, antelope, deer, elk, 
 
 118 
 
On guard. 
 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT. 119 
 
 bear, gray wolf, and the wild turkey have already 
 disappeared. 
 
 With such facts as these before him, it was appar- 
 ent to Dyche that if he ever expected to complete his 
 collection of birds and animals it was high time to 
 set about it. Following out this idea, he devoted a 
 year to the study of taxidermy and to visiting the 
 various large museums of the East as well as zoologi- 
 cal gardens an4 shops of taxidermists. Some months 
 were spent in the studio and workshop of W. T. 
 Hornaday while he was mounting his large group of 
 bison, and in the study and measurement of live 
 animals in the various zoological gardens, and then 
 he felt partially prepared for the labours before him. 
 
 In the Century magazine of December, 1884, ap- 
 peared an article on the Rocky Mountain goat, from 
 which the following extracts are taken : 
 
 " Its history is one of peculiar interest. So far as 
 I know, specimens of the Aplocerus montanus are 
 to be found only in three cities : In London, where 
 an under-sized and wretchedly stuffed specimen does 
 not redound to the honour of the British Museum or 
 of English taxidermists ; a better one in the Ley den 
 Museum ; two fair representatives, one male and one 
 female, in the National Museum at Washington. " 
 
 "Of the twenty-three scientific authorities who 
 have, so far as I have been able to follow the subject, 
 written on this animal, none have ever seen one 
 alive, and only four have ever examined a stuffed 
 specimen, but they, nevertheless, have bestowed 
 
130 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 thirteen different generic names upon it, some mak- 
 ing it a sheep, others classing it as a goat, while 
 others again ranked it with the chamois." 
 
 So thoroughly was Dyche impressed with the ne- 
 cessity of prompt action in the matter of securing 
 specimens that he did not wait for the board of 
 regents of the university to consider his plan, but made 
 immediate arrangements for an expedition to the far 
 Northwest after big game. British Columbia was 
 selected as the proper ground, and after a month's 
 preparation he was ready to start. This preparation 
 included daily target practice with two new rifles : a 
 Winchester, 40-82 model of 1886, and a 40-75 Reming- 
 ton. Day after day the practice was continued, until 
 over forty pounds of lead had been shot at every con- 
 ceivable form of target, under every possible circum- 
 stance which his experience had taught him he 
 might expect in the woods of the Cascade range. 
 Rolling and stationary targets were fired at from a 
 standstill or while running ; he would run at full speed 
 forty or fifty yards and then fire, until he became 
 familiar with his guns under all circumstances and 
 until he felt that he had full control over his nerves 
 and muscles as well as a perfect knowledge of just 
 what his guns would do. Tarpaulins, for covering 
 packs and drying skins, heavy pack-bags and smaller 
 sacks of canvas were made, every possible want was 
 cared for, and on the morning of July 3d he left Law- 
 rence, reaching Denver on the 4th. 
 
 A few days were spent here waitifig for Judge 
 Frederick A. Williams and Dr. J. W. Anderson, 
 who were to accompany him with a local taxidermist 
 
AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY. 121 
 
 who professed to be able to guide the party through 
 the Cascade Mountains or anywhere else. During 
 this wait in Denver Dyehe continued his target 
 practice, and on the eleventh of the month all were 
 ready and the start made for the north. 
 
 The hot, dry weather made the long trip through 
 Colorado and Idaho anything but pleasant. At 
 Montpelier the train stopped half an hour for break- 
 fast, and was just too late to allow the passengers to 
 witness a bear-hunt in the heart of the town. A 
 large female grizzly, with a cub, had come to town 
 and walked leisurely through the streets. The whole 
 population turned out, and for her boldness and con- 
 tempt the bear lost her life, while the cub was made 
 prisoner, and when the train arrived was showing its 
 viciousness and strength by whipping the best dog 
 in town. 
 
 The train sped on over the sage-brush country. 
 Indians were to be seen standing at the stations 
 watching the iron horse which had invaded their do- 
 main. Finally the region of sage-brush disappeared, 
 and as Pendleton was approached the whole country 
 took on the appearance of a vast wheat-field. Trees, 
 water, houses, and barns were seen, and civilisation 
 seemed to have been reached once more. 
 
 Spokane was the end of their railroad journey, and 
 here tents were put up, bath-houses and barber-shops 
 invaded, and a day of rest on Sunday made the travel- 
 lers feel once more civilised. Monday and Tuesday 
 were spent buying eight or ten horses. After with- 
 standing the wiles of the dealers, who apparently 
 made their living by cheating "tenderfeet," a good 
 
123 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 outfit was purchased and the horses and wagons were 
 made ready. 
 
 Learning at Spokane that a good wagon road led 
 to Palmer Lake, it was determined to go on at once, 
 and the doctor and the judge went ahead, leaving 
 Dyche and Mac, the guide, about a day behind. The 
 road lay through a country where there was but little 
 grass and water, and it was ten o'clock the first night 
 when Dyche and his companion reached a ranch. 
 The task of keeping off the horde of vicious dogs and 
 waking the ranchman fell to Dyche, who accom- 
 plished it after much trouble. A little wheat-straw 
 was obtained for the horses, and next morning, when 
 Dyche went to the house to apologise for the trouble 
 he had given them, he was invited to a fine break- 
 fast. 
 
 All day the road led through a hot and dry country. 
 Dust and sand from five to ten inches deep made the 
 way almost impassable. When the wind blew it 
 felt as if it came from the mouth of a furnace and 
 the hot dust flew in clouds, completely enveloping the 
 wagon and pack-horses. The whole country was as 
 dry as a desert, covered with large stones, and there 
 was little or no vegetation to be seen anywhere. 
 Late in the afternoon a ranchman sold them enough 
 wheat-straw to make a partial feed at three cents a 
 pound, but he would let them have no water at any 
 price. His well was nearly dry, and he gave them 
 a little to drink, but the horses had to go without. 
 Camp was made, but at three o'clock next morning 
 they started and travelled to "Wilbur, a small town, 
 where, at six o'clock, they got sufficient water for the 
 
AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY. 123 
 
 horses and then started on, overtaking the doctor and 
 the judge at eight o'clock. 
 
 All day long they toiled on through the sand and 
 dust, which was now supplemented by clouds of 
 smoke from the distant burning mountain. Camp 
 was made at noon and an attempt made to rest and 
 eat, but it was a dismal failure. A little water found 
 in a hole, which was so vile that the horses would 
 not drink it, was boiled and coffee made, but it was 
 not fit to drink. 
 
 At half-past three in the afternoon the Grand Cou- 
 lee was reached. Here the road dropped down almost 
 perpendicularly into the canon and rose as precipi- 
 tously on the other side. In the distance could be 
 seen the magnificent range of the Cascades, along the 
 Columbia River, which at this place flows through 
 an immense gorge. Here the party suffered the tor- 
 tures of Tantalus, for while they could see and hear 
 the water as the stream dashed down the gorge far 
 below them, they could not by any possibility get 
 down to it, and were compelled to travel three miles 
 farther before they could obtain a drink. 
 
 After a short rest the long pull up the mountains 
 began. The saddle-horses were fastened by a long 
 rope to the tongue of the wagon, and thus assisted in 
 getting the vehicle up the trail. The road narrowed 
 and wound in and out among the steep hills, along 
 the crags and cliffs of the mountain-side. While 
 going over this trail, Mac's bucking " cayuse" took it 
 into his head to show off, and the result was that he 
 fell and got tangled up in the ropes, dragging down 
 Dyche's horse. The latter was almost caught in the 
 
124 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 fall, but extricated himself. Then the doctor's horse 
 got down, fastening his rider by winding the rope 
 about his legs so that escape was impossible. The 
 struggling and kicking horses were on the edge of a 
 precipice which would give them a sheer fall of three 
 hundred feet should they go over, and the situation 
 was precarious in the extreme. The ropes were 
 quickly cut and the doctor relieved from his dan- 
 gerous position, and then the horses got up safely. 
 
 But these were not all the troubles of the trip over 
 the pass. A few miles farther on a freighter stuck 
 fast in the mud effectually barred the way. It was 
 utterly impossible to get past the big wagon, so three 
 hours were spent in assisting the freighter and clear- 
 ing the road. Camp was made that night by a small 
 spring, and by six o'clock next morning they were 
 again on the road. At noon they reached Condon's 
 Ferry, the home of " Wild-Goose Bill," who spent 
 several hours, when he first came into the country, 
 stalking and killing his neighbours' tame geese. 
 
 The early morning breeze increased to a hurricane 
 and the dust filled the air, while heavy black clouds 
 of smoke and ashes covered the sky. The discomfort 
 of travelling was so great that camp was made early 
 in the afternoon, and they undertook the almost im- 
 possible task of getting supper amid the dust and 
 ashes. Dyche and the judge started a fire and 
 cooked a supper after a fashion, but everything was 
 so mixed with ashes that eating was almost impossi- 
 ble. The doctor was the life of the party, and his 
 exuberance kept them from utter demoralisation. 
 
 The potatoes were half fried and full of dirt. " All 
 
AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY. 125 
 
 the better for that," was the doctor's comment, and 
 he ate as if he believed it. The bread was burnt. 
 "All the better for that," was the invariable remark, 
 and at last the expression became the general by- 
 word whenever anything went wrong on the trip. 
 
 The clouds passed away during the night and the 
 winds died down without a drop of rain. The 
 whole country appeared to have had no rain since the 
 flood. It had rained a little, however, about four 
 months before this date. All next day was spent in 
 one continuous trip over roads in valleys between 
 the mountains, while the dust came in clouds and 
 covered everything. With goggles over the eyes and 
 with the mouth and nose covered to keep the fine 
 particles from the lungs and throat, they almost suf- 
 focated as they travelled, until late in the afternoon, 
 when they reached a small lake, where Dyche suc- 
 ceeded in shooting six half-grown ducks. While 
 thus engaged an Indian stole his spurs which he had 
 left on his saddle, and as he could not spare the time 
 to chase the thief, his horse benefited by the episode. 
 
 Reaching the Okonagan River at a point where it 
 is about one hundred and fifty yards wide, they 
 found that a band of Indians had made their camp 
 and were fishing for salmon, which were running in 
 great numbers. The red men erected a fish-dam of 
 willow and pole in such a manner that all the fish 
 going down the stream were caught in the baskets. 
 This method has been in use among the Indians 
 from time immemorial and was fully described by 
 Lewis and Clarke in the history of their explorations 
 in 1805. 
 
126 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 Between two and three hundred Indians were in the 
 camp and they secured from one to two thousand 
 pounds of fish each night. These were cut up and 
 placed on pole platforms, under which smudge fires 
 were kept going constantly by the women and chil- 
 dren. The combination of squaw, papoose, dog, fish, 
 and general Indian camp smell was something better 
 imagined than described, and little time was wasted 
 by the hunters in that vicinitj^. 
 
 Ward's ranch was reached late that night, and it 
 was nine o'clock before the ducks were dressed and 
 cooked. They had a strong fishy taste, but all ad- 
 verse comment was cut off by the doctor's " They 
 are all the better for that." The judge, however, 
 rose to the occasion, saying : 
 
 " Begorra, I like fish, and, begorra, I like ducks, but, 
 begorra, I do not like fish-duck." 
 
 Leaving Ward's ranch at half -past seven next 
 morning, another hot and dusty day was experienced. 
 White Mountain, that landmark known to every 
 man who has travelled in the Cascade range, towered . 
 on the right of the trail and stood out against the 
 smoky sky. It was an inspiring sight and aided in 
 whiling away many of the tedious minutes of the 
 day. The party had been told of the lake called Sweet- 
 water, and it was with a feeling of joy that the waters 
 of the place were seen, but how keen was the disap- 
 pointment when it was found that some facetious 
 prospector had given the name to the bitterest sheet 
 of water in the Northwest. They toiled on and just 
 at dark reached Loomis trading post, utterly fagged 
 out. 
 
THE CASCADES REACHED. 127 
 
 This post was composed of a number of log-cabins 
 on the banks of a beautiful ice-cold stream which 
 dashed down from the snows of the Cascade range, 
 to which the early French voyageurs had given 
 the name " L'eau de coulee, " or " water of the chasm. " 
 The trappers and prospectors who followed at a later 
 day, however, corrupted this into "Toad Coulee," 
 by which name the stream is now known. The post 
 was patronised to the extent of fifty cents for a fine 
 supper, prepared by a good cook, and the horses were 
 regaled with alfalfa hay in the corral. 
 
 During the moments of rest in their long and 
 wearisome day, Mac had exercised his ingenuity 
 in getting up new stories about the beautiful 
 fish which were to be caught in Palmer Lake. Now 
 that the body of water was so near, the doctor and 
 the judge wanted to hurry on and try a cast. Within 
 a mile of the lake the wagon stuck fast in the mud, 
 and they were compelled to pack the camp equipment 
 to the shore. Once there, the two fishermen could 
 not even wait for lunch, but soon had their lines out 
 and were whipping the water in vain effort to bring 
 a rise. In about two hours they succeeded in getting 
 a dozen of the worst specimens of fish to be found in 
 the whole country. They were little things called 
 " white fish" in that country — and were so full of 
 bones as to be unfit for eating. There was not a 
 trout in the lake. 
 
 Evening was now coming on, and the horses, which 
 had become frenzied from the attacks of the flies and 
 mosquitoes, were taken high up on the mountain, 
 where they could have relief during the night. It 
 
128 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 was useless to try to sleep, for the winged pests made 
 life a burden the whole night long. At earliest day- 
 light the party was up, and scarcely waiting for 
 breakfast, they struck camp and went back to Thorp's 
 ranch, where arrangements were made to store the 
 bulk of the outfit. 
 
 After an excellent dinner served by Thorp's squaw, 
 they started once more for the hunting-grounds. 
 The trail now led up the side of old Mount Chapaca, 
 and was a most pleasant change from what had been 
 experienced during the past few days. The air 
 was clear and cool, and there was none of the dust 
 and heat which had made life a burden during their 
 long ride over the barren country. Just as the sun 
 sank behind the western range a cosy grassy spot 
 beside flowing water was seen, and as the horses 
 were halted for camp it was discovered that the place 
 had been utilised for the same purpose by someone 
 some time before. On a large pine tree was found 
 the legend : " Camp Disappointment. Could not find 
 the hidden mine." 
 
 A fawn had fallen a victim to the rifle of one of 
 the party as they came up the mountain, and by the 
 side of the cool spring the camp was anything but a 
 disappointment to the naturalist and his companions. 
 Mac had been telling of a certain beautiful stream 
 just ahead which was full of trout, and next day the 
 place was reached early in the forenoon. Mac's fish- 
 stories were generally looked upon with suspicion by 
 this time, but the doctor and the judge were so in- 
 spired with his apparent truthfulness about this river 
 that they did not wait to eat, but hurried away and 
 
WHOLESALE HUNTERS. 129 
 
 began casting their flies over the stream. After 
 whipping tlie water for an hour or more they gave it 
 up in disgust and returned empty-handed to camp. 
 It was afterwards learned that Mac had not broken 
 his record, for there was not a trout in the stream, 
 and furthermore there never had been, for a series of 
 high falls some distance below prevented the fish 
 from coming up stream. 
 
 Several deer were seen during the afternoon, and 
 just as evening was coming on the smoke of a camp- 
 fire was espied, which proved to come from the camp 
 of two deer-hunters. The two men who sat by the 
 fire eyed the new-comers with suspicion, and in re- 
 sponse to inquiries said they were prospectors ; but 
 the piles of deer and sheep skins which lay about the 
 camp made it evident that they were skin-hunters, 
 and were in the mountains ruthlessly slaughtering 
 the game for the paltry sum to be had for the hide. 
 It was afterwards learned that these two men killed 
 over two hundred deer during that summer, selling 
 the skins for seventy-five cents each and leaving the 
 dead carcasses lying just where they had fallen. The 
 head-hunters, against whom such a wave of indig- 
 nation has spread over the country, are bad enough, 
 but they are usually satisfied with two or three ani- 
 mals, while the skin-hunters indiscriminately slaugh- 
 ter the animals by the hundreds and soon drive them 
 out of the country. 
 
 The skin-hunters were full of advice when they 
 learned that the party was after sheep. 
 
 " You may see some of them on the highest peaks 
 if you keep your eyes skinned," said the man with 
 
130 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 a buckskin suit, " but you can depend on it, Mister, 
 that one old ram will always see you. He's jest 
 sure to see you if you're in sight. One old ram is 
 always on the lookout on the top crag, while the 
 others of the band are feeding below on the slope." 
 
 " How did you get two of them if they are so shy?" 
 
 " Oh, we came upon them while they were in the 
 woods and didn't expect us. Then we fellers have 
 had lots 9f experience hunting wild things, and can 
 get animals you fellers can't." 
 
 This big talk did not have the effect of deterring 
 the party, for Dyche believed that if anyone else 
 could get a sheep he could. A mile's walk took the 
 naturalist and his companions to the ideal spot for a 
 camp, and here preparations for a long stay were 
 made. A mile to the north two towering peaks raised 
 their heads to the sky, while between them a clear, 
 ice-cold stream dashed down over the rocks and 
 bowlders, making constant music through the 
 grassy valley. On the west side of the stream the 
 valley sloped gently back to the higher mountains, 
 while the thick grass made a carpet of green. Mid- 
 way between the water and the rising ground stood 
 a bunch of spruce trees, forming a background for 
 the camp, which was pitched just to the east of the 
 trees. The horses were put on ropes, the tents set 
 and carpeted with spruce boughs, the fire started and 
 supper begun, and the naturalist and his friends were 
 at home. 
 
 The judge confessed that he did not know much 
 about cooking, and had been afraid to try his hand 
 heretofore lest he should spoil the meal ; but he had 
 
IN CAMP. 131 
 
 such an appetite after the long trip that he could 
 not wait and began preparing to cook. He got 
 out a lot of flour, and notwithstanding the fact that 
 he received enough advice to sour any batch of bread, 
 he succeeded in making such biscuits that he was at 
 once appointed baker for the expedition. 
 
 The doctor not only knew how good coffee tasted, 
 but knew how to make it ; and his efforts in this line 
 supplementing those of the judge, it was but a short 
 time before the party sat down to a feast so fine that 
 all else but the luxury of dining was forgotten. 
 Everyone was hungry, and the table was soon 
 cleared. 
 
 As they were in a sheep country, the high crags and 
 peaks pointed out by the skin-hunters were eagerly 
 scanned in the hope of seeing the longed-for game. 
 Early next morning the first hunt was taken, but it 
 resulted in nothing but experience ; and that evening 
 Dyche showed such^igns of breaking down under the 
 unwonted journey and horseback travel that the doc- 
 tor insisted that he should remain in camp for at least 
 two days. Each day the judge and the doctor would 
 go out on the mountains and return in the evening 
 with no game, but with such stories of the sheep 
 which they had seen that Dyche fretted at his en- 
 forced idleness. On the evening of the second day 
 the doctor came in with a story of a band of sheep 
 which he had seen, and at dawn next morning he and 
 Dyche were* off to the spot. By sunrise they were 
 on the top of a magnificent mountain, and saw the 
 orb over the peaks of the range. 
 
 Separating from his companion, Dyche wandered 
 
132 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 along slowly, watching far in front and looking for 
 any possible movement that would indicate a sheep. 
 Each rocky crag as it came into view was carefully 
 scanned with the expectation of seeing a ram on the 
 alert. In a grassy cove on the side of the moun- 
 tain unmistakable signs of sheep were seen. He 
 passed on, looking carefully in every direction, keep- 
 ing near the top of the ridge. Finally he retraced his 
 steps to the cove and made another inspection. It 
 was one of the places which had been pointed out b}^ 
 the skin -hunters as "a likely place for a few old 
 rams," and the hunter was loth to leave it. While 
 moving along near the crest of the ridge, Dj^che heard 
 the sound of a stone rolling down the mountain on 
 the opposite side of the hill. 
 
 The sound could only be made by some animal 
 walking among the loose rocks, and in an instant the 
 hunter's heart was leaping madly at the thought of 
 his nearness to the "big-horn." The wind was in 
 his favour, and as the sound continued he felt sure 
 that his presence had not been noted by the animal. 
 Removing his shoes, he crawled towards the top of 
 the ridge as carefully as a cat crawls upon its prey. 
 The movements of the animals became plainer with 
 each foot that he advanced. Just as he reached the 
 crest, he stopped for breath and looked to see that his 
 gun was all right. Again the animals moved. They 
 now seemed to be only a few feet away. Slowly he 
 crawled a few feet farther and rested. Now he be- 
 gan a snake-like movement at almost snail's pace 
 towards the crest. A few feet more and yet they 
 were not in sight. Another move and he was be- 
 
A DISGUSTED HUNTER. 133 
 
 hind a jutting rock which stood on the top of the 
 mountain. The animals were still moving about 
 almost within reach of his arm, yet he could not see 
 them, although they were heard so plainly. He 
 lifted his head carefully, just enough to permit him 
 to peer through a crack in the rocks, and there, stand- 
 ing in the sunshine and not forty feet away, almost 
 under him he saw, broadside towards him, two big 
 mule deer bucks. The revulsion of feeling at this 
 moment was so bitter that in his disappointment he 
 jumped to his feet and began throwing rocks at the 
 deer, which went down the mountain faster than 
 they had ever travelled before. Dyche was so sure 
 of finding sheep when he lifted his head above the 
 rocks that his keen disappointment unnerved him, 
 and he returned to camp disgusted. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The First Big-Horn — How his Skin and Bones were Prepared 
 — Habits of the Rocky Mountain Sheep. 
 
 YCHE'S disappointment did not prevent 
 an early start next morning, and it was 
 still early when he reached the spot 
 where the bucks had deceived him. 
 After climbing over the mountains for some time he 
 reached a semicircular ridge, opening to the south, 
 through the centre of which ran an intersecting ridge, 
 terminating in a jutting crag of bare rocks. The top 
 of this ridge was bare and rocky, while short and 
 thick bunch-grass grew on the sides of the slopes 
 leading down to the central amphitheatre, towards 
 the woods. From the dense growth of timber to the 
 south of this horseshoe-shaped inclosure there was 
 a gravelly hill leading towards the central ridge which 
 divided the amphitheatre into two parks. The three 
 jutting spurs at the ends of the side and central crags 
 were a quarter of a mile apart, while from the central 
 crag to the back of the ridge it was fully half a mile. 
 Dyche had worked his way up the mountain and 
 it was noon when he reached the top of the ridge. 
 Crawling carefully to the top, he examined the coun- 
 try thoroughly before showing himself. As nothing 
 living was visible, he crossed the ridge and sat down 
 
 134 
 
THE FIRST BIG-HORN. 135 
 
 on the south side, overlooking the central portion, 
 and began eating his lunch. While thus fully ex- 
 posed to anything coming from the south, he saw a 
 big ram walking from the woods up the gravelly 
 hill to the crag at the end of the central ridge. 
 Dyche knew that if he so much as moved his hand 
 or foot he would be seen by the keen-eyed animal. 
 He thought rapidly now, for it was a case of no sheep 
 if he moved and perhaps no sheep if he did not move. 
 The ram reached the crag, and after gazing at the 
 country for a while began feeding towards the spot 
 where the naturalist lay. 
 
 Dyche saw that his only possible chance would be to 
 sit perfectly still until the old fellow got close enough 
 and then shoot him. The ram was wild and had 
 evidently been hunted before. He would not take 
 time to graze, but would snatch a mouthful of grass 
 and then raise his head high in the air and look 
 about while he chewed it. He continued slowly 
 towards Dyche, but the naturalist's clothing was 
 of a colour that was indistinguishable from the 
 rock and earth on which he lay, and he was not seen. 
 The ram fed towards him some fifty yards, and just 
 as he was beginning to congratulate himself on 
 the success of his plan the animal suddenly pawed 
 the earth a little and lay down, facing towards the 
 naturalist. There he contentedly chewed his cud, 
 while Dyche hardly dared to breathe for fear he 
 might be seen. 
 
 Minute after minute passed and the sun slowly 
 crawled towards the western horizon. At last the 
 sheep got up and shook himself, and Dyche felt that 
 
 10 
 
136 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 he would now surely come on along the ridge, but 
 in this he was again disappointed, for the sheep 
 began to feed again, but edged around the base of 
 the crag towards the woods from which he had come. 
 The naturalist saw that if he was to secure that 
 sheep he must do something very soon, or it would 
 be too dark to see to shoot. Timing the ram, Dyche 
 would give himself a shove with his heels every time 
 the sheep's head went down after a mouthful of 
 grass. Then drawing his gun up he would wait for 
 another mouthful and give himself another shove. 
 In this manner he covered the few feet between him- 
 self and the top of the ridge in half an hour and 
 gradually worked himself over. As soon as he was 
 confident that he was out of sight of the animal, he 
 made his way along the eastern spur of the ridge to 
 the southern end. Making his way carefully to the 
 top, he peered over and saw that the ram was still 
 there, but was fully a quarter of a mile away. 
 
 Retracing his steps, Dyche made his way clear 
 around to the south end of the western ridge, but he 
 was still as far from his game as ever, and he could 
 see no way of getting closer without exposing his 
 body. He now went to the spot where he had first 
 gone over the ridge, and waited, hoping the ram 
 would come towards him, but he soon saw that the 
 animal was going towards the timber. The sun was 
 now almost down, and the naturalist saw that what 
 was to be done must be done quickly, and concluded 
 to make a desperate effort to get that sheep. Divest- 
 ing himself of his shoes, hat, and hatchet, he hurried 
 back along the western ridge to the southern spur. 
 
THE FIRST BIG-HORN. 137 
 
 When the ram would reach down for a mouthful of 
 grass Dyche would crawl along, as rapidly as pos- 
 sible, down the side of the ridge into the little park 
 between the two ridges. He took advantage of every 
 rock and hole in the ground, and in this way reached 
 the foot of the central ridge in about fifteen minutes, 
 while the ram was feeding just over the crest and 
 out of sight. 
 
 Now came a series of movements between gliding 
 and crawling towards the top. Dyche had marked the 
 spot where the ram was feeding and worked his way 
 to it, getting closer and closer to the place where the 
 ram had last been seen. Just as he was working to 
 the top of the ridge he heard a scrambling noise on the 
 other side. Springing to his feet, with his gun for- 
 ward and ready, he saw the ram going at full speed 
 towards the timber. A hasty shot and the animal was 
 seen to falter, but quickly gathering itself together 
 it went on. Another quick shot and the ram disap- 
 peared around the edge of the crag. Dyche ran to 
 the end of the ridge, where he had a clear view of 
 the slope leading to the woods, but not a sign of the 
 ram was to be seen. A search along the edge of the 
 ridge showed the old fellow standing about seventy- 
 five yards below, apparently hard hit. Dyche's gun 
 was at his shoulder almost instinctively, but the 
 shot was not fired, for the sheep gave a lurch for- 
 wards and went tumbling down the side of the moun- 
 tain. Hurrying after him, Dyche found a magnifi- 
 cent specimen and hastened to take advantage of the 
 fading light to make anatomical notes and measure- 
 ments. He found that the eyes, which the books 
 
138 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 describe as being brown or dark hazel, were of a 
 straw colour with a slight mottling of hazel near the 
 
 Darkness put a stop to the examination. There 
 was neither wood nor water near or Dyche would 
 undoubtedly have camped near his first big-horn. 
 An hour was spent in finding his shoes and hat, and 
 eight o'clock was past when the naturalist reached 
 camp. A hot supper was waiting for him, and while 
 discussing it the hunter told of his adventure. 
 
 Everyone was up bright and early next morning. 
 The doctor went south, while Dyche saddled Billy 
 and went after his sheep. Two hours were spent in 
 measuring and skinning the animal, and by one 
 o'clock the skin, skeleton, and most of the meat were 
 in camp. 
 
 The doctor arrived from an unsuccessful hunt in 
 time for dinner. The sheep steaks proved that the 
 flesh of the big-horn is the finest game meat in exist- 
 ence. Dyche lived for weeks on the flesh without 
 having it pall on him, which shows that it is differ- 
 ent from any other venison. The meat was tender 
 and juicy, having only a slight mutton flavour, while 
 the fat, or tallow, would not harden, but formed a 
 granular mass, except in the coldest weather. 
 
 The afternoon was spent in preparing the skin 
 for preservation, which was a simple operation. All 
 particles of flesh and fat were first thoroughly removed 
 from every part of the skin to the hoofs, and then a 
 thin-bladed knife slipped between the hoof and bone. 
 The ears and nose were cleaned of fascia and carti- 
 lage. Four parts of salt and one of alum were 
 
PREPARING SKIN AND BONES. 13ft 
 
 placed in water, and the whole was boiled until a 
 strong brine was made, which was allowed to cool. 
 An excavation was made in the ground eighteen 
 inches in diameter and six inches deep, and into this 
 a part of the skin free from bullet-holes was pushed, 
 forming a cup, into which was poured the milk- 
 warm brine. Then the whole skin was thoroughly- 
 wetted with a small sponge. The head and feet were 
 then placed in the vat and the whole skin thoroughly- 
 saturated with the brine and left to soak for six hours, 
 when the operation was repeated. When this soaking 
 was finished the skin was hung in a shady place to 
 dry, care being taken to turn the edges out frequently. 
 At the end of a few days the skin was dry and ready 
 for packing. It was folded and sewed in a burlap 
 bag marked with a label showing a number which 
 corresponded with the number of the description in 
 the note-book. Each bone was also marked with a 
 similar number and the specimen was ready for the 
 storeroom. This same process was gone through 
 with in every case where the skin was preserved. 
 
 Just as the sun was going down a big animal was 
 heard in the woods tearing along at full speed, making 
 a noise like a herd of deer. The doctor and Dyche 
 jumped for their guns, and were ready for anything, 
 when out of the timber came the judge on Nellie 
 Gray, at full speed, waving his hat and shouting. 
 
 " Well, by the long-horned angora !" said the doc- 
 tor, " I'll bet the judge has killed a deer. Yes, there 
 it is hanging to the back of his saddle." 
 
 Nellie Gray seemed to share the excitement of the 
 judge as they came tearing into the camp. 
 
140 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 "What did I tell you?" shouted the judge as he 
 jumped to the ground. " Just look at that specimen, 
 will you? Whoopee! A hundred dollars would not 
 buy that sheep." 
 
 As he spoke he began unloading the head and skin 
 of a fine ram from his saddle. While the naturalist 
 and the doctor prepared supper the judge told his 
 story. 
 
 "Do you see that mountain off there? It's more 
 than five miles over there and the trees are down 
 dreadfully between here and that old bald- top. I 
 rode all the way, though, and Nellie had a terrible 
 time getting over the logs. At ten o'clock I tied 
 Nellie at the foot of the mountain and climbed to 
 the top. I went along that snow-bank which you can 
 see over there, and as I slipped along I saw a sheep. 
 I worked around a crag and got within seventy-five 
 yards of him. There was a whole band of them and 
 they did not see me. That head and skin tells the 
 rest of the story." 
 
 Williams was so elated over the fulfilment of his 
 prophecy of the night before that he at once proceeded 
 to perform the ceremony of christening the camp. 
 In honour of the queen, in whose dominions the party 
 were encamped, it was called Camp Victoria. 
 
 After several days' unsuccessful hunting Dyche 
 concluded to extend his range and went to a bald 
 ridge about six miles from camp. Ascending the 
 highest peak in the whole country, from which a 
 vast expanse of mountain and valley could be seen, 
 he carefully scanned the surroundings. He espied a 
 moving object about a mile away and finally made it 
 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SHEEP. 141 
 
 out to be a sheep. It was walking along the side of 
 the mountain, and the naturalist dropped to the ground 
 and made a long stalk to the place where he thought the 
 animal would pass. He crawled to the top of the ridge 
 and waited half an hour before he saw the sheep, 
 between two hundred and three hundred yards to his 
 left and about one hundred from the top of the ridge. 
 Near this sheep could be seen two others, lying down. 
 He made a careful stalk to the ridge just above them, 
 but could not see them. After waiting in vain for 
 the animals to move along the mountain he rolled a 
 stone down in order to start them out, hoping to get 
 a flying shot at them as they ran. Either the sheep 
 were accustomed to rolling stones or their hearing 
 was not as good as their sight, for they did not move. 
 A larger stone was then started down, and this 
 did the business effectually, for it started others and 
 the whole mass went bounding down, over the ledge, 
 right among the sheep. The animals went at full 
 speed along the side of the mountain to escape 
 from the rocks, and as they ran Dyche got in two 
 shots. He now ran to another point where he could 
 see the sheep rounding a crag. There were only two 
 running now, and they got out of sight too quickly 
 to give him another chance. Going back along the 
 side of the mountain, he saw a beautiful four-year- 
 old ram just as it was sinking to the earth. By the 
 time the measurements were taken and the animal 
 skinned it was after sunset, but the load was carried 
 two miles to the horse. Dyche was greatly exhausted 
 from the exertion and thirst, but was compelled to 
 walk another mile before he could ride. It was late 
 
142 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 at night when camp was reached, the horse taking 
 his own way. 
 
 The doctor and the judge had been "hunting 
 large," seeing many sheep, but the latter were so shy 
 that they could not get them. They each succeeded 
 in securing a fine specimen, and now their time was 
 up and they had to return to Denver. 
 
 Dyche had been dreading this announcement for 
 some time. He felt that he could ill afford to lose 
 his friends, for two better camping companions could 
 not be found. Though both were professional men, 
 with large business to look after, they were thor- 
 oughly versed in woodcraft and were real campers 
 and hunters. Having a lively interest in everything 
 going on, they took every disappointment the weather 
 or country might bring, without complaint. Even- 
 ing in camp was the most pleasant part of the twenty- 
 four hours, for it was spent in profitable conversation, 
 exchanging ideas and constantly developing new 
 thoughts. 
 
 A general discussion on sheep was started the even- 
 ing before the Denver gentlemen left for home, when 
 the judge asked if it was necessary to travel away up 
 into the British-Columbian mountains to get sheep. 
 
 " No," said Dyche. " Sheep range from New Mex- 
 ico to British Columbia, and may even be found as 
 far north as Alaska. They are seen east as far as 
 the Black Hills and range west to the Pacific Ocean. 
 They live, however, only in such localities in the 
 prescribed territory as best suit their habits. At 
 present they are confined to a few favoured localities 
 in the highest and roughest parts of the Rockies. 
 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SHEEP. 143 
 
 But I learn that the skin and head hunters are fast 
 thinning thera out. It is only possible now to find 
 stragglers, and these will soon be gone." 
 
 " How is it that your sheep are so much darker 
 than mine?" asked the judge. 
 
 " The colour is difiicult of description, as it varies 
 so much in individual specimens. Some are very 
 light grayish-brown, or light rufous gray, while 
 others are very dark. All the intermediate shades 
 from light rufous ash to dark chestnut are to be seen 
 in one band. There is always a dingy white patch 
 on the rump, like that of the elk or antelope." 
 
 " Well, there is one thing that I can't quite under- 
 stand, and that is why we don't see any ewes or 
 lambs," said the doctor. " Here we have been hunt- 
 ing for several days and have seen nothing but bands 
 of old rams. It looks as if all the females had left 
 the country or stayed in the thick woods." 
 
 " During the summer and autumn the rams range 
 together on certain mountains, while the ewes and 
 lambs are in separate bands on some other range, 
 where they stay until late in the fall. You will find 
 that there are plenty of ewes and lambs within fifteen 
 or twenty miles of these mountains. Not over half 
 of the ewes have lambs following them. I have tried 
 to find the reason for this, but have not been able to 
 satisfactorily account for it. Among the theories of 
 the old hunters the most tenable is that the lambs 
 fall victims to their natural enemies, such as eagles, 
 wolverines, and wolves." 
 
 "Do the sheep remain constantly above timber- 
 line?" 
 
144 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 " They seem to like the high crags and mountain- 
 tops, and when undisturbed remain there most of the 
 time. They grow very fat on the short, thick bunch- 
 grass that grows on the slopes and coves on the 
 mountain-side. The high ground affords them the 
 opportunity to watch for their enemies. When dis- 
 turbed they always break down the side of the moun- 
 tain for the woods, but usually keep going until they 
 reach another range of high mountains, though it 
 may be miles away. 
 
 " Ewes and lambs do not range on the high moun- 
 tains, at least while the lambs are small, but remain 
 lower down near the edge of timber-line. Certain 
 alkali spots on the side of the mountains are great 
 places of resort for the sheep, and they go there as 
 frequently as deer do to a salt-lick. The lambs are 
 born in the latter part of May or the first of June." 
 
 " There is one thing that always seemed a myth to 
 me," said the judge, "and that is the stories we hear 
 about the fearful leaps rams make down precipices, 
 where they are said to alight on their horns and re- 
 bound to their feet, thus saving their legs from the 
 terrible shock. I never believed there was any truth 
 in such stories." 
 
 " Well, as usual, your judgment is correct. Those 
 stories are all myths evolved from the fertile brains 
 of those men who do their hunting by the fireside of 
 some ranch in the mountains. Take a man who 
 comes to a place like Thorp's ranch and shows the 
 people that he is a * tenderfoot' and is going to write 
 a book, and they will fill him up with more stories 
 of adventure than a hunter can find in a lifetime. 
 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SHEEP. 145 
 
 If you will watch an old ram going down a moun- 
 tain, you will see that he does not jump down steep 
 places, but is as careful as a dog about where he puts 
 his feet. He will feel his way down and slip and 
 slide, keeping a firm foot-hold all the time, and never 
 jumps any more than any other animal which ranges 
 the mountains. I suppose that the imagination of 
 some book hunter made the fearful leaps out of the 
 battered condition of the horns. He possibly could 
 not understand why nature wanted to put such horns 
 on an animal, and not knowing that the horns had 
 been battered up by fighting, he imagined that it 
 was done when the animal jumped and struck on its 
 head. 
 
 " The horns of the males are of immense size, but 
 the ewes and lambs have small ones. Now, the 
 females and lambs have to jump and go where the 
 rams do, and if they jumped and struck on their horns 
 they would have a sorry time of it. The horns of 
 the males vary from twelve to eighteen inches at the 
 base, and a cross-section shows that they are all tri- 
 angular in shape. The horns and skull of the largest 
 sheep I ever saw weighed, when thoroughly dry, 
 twenty-eight pounds. The horns of the largest males 
 average from thirty to forty inches in length, while 
 those of the ewes are rarely over twelve inches 
 long." 
 
 Early next morning the judge and the doctor 
 started over the trail to Thorp's ranch, leaving 
 Dyche practically alone in the mountains, for the 
 guide was no companion and took little interest in any- 
 thing beyond his immediate wants. The naturalist 
 
146 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 now made great progress in his work, for he went at 
 everything with all his might in order to drive all 
 thought of lonesoraeness from his mind. He collected 
 many small mammals and birds while hunting for 
 the larger ones, 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 End of Sheep-Hunting — How the Sentinel Fell at his Post — 
 A Peculiar Wound — Finding the Noon Hour by Stars — 
 How the Collection of Sheep was Completed. 
 
 ^^wHUS far all the hunting had been done 
 within five miles of the camp, but now 
 the naturalist determined to take a wider 
 range. Under ordinary circumstances a 
 mile or two is not considered a great distance, but 
 when it is over the roughest range of mountains in 
 the world, it generally means a day's constant strug- 
 gle to get over the ground without devoting any time 
 to hunting. 
 
 At daylight Dyche was on old Charlie's back, and 
 ten o'clock found him eight miles north of Camp 
 Victoria. The horse was lariated out where he 
 could feed, while the hunter climbed to the top of the 
 highest mountain in the vicinity. From this emi- 
 nence the whole country was carefully scanned, with 
 the expectation of getting a glimpse of a sheep. At 
 last one was discovered about a mile away on the 
 side of the mountain. The colour of these animals so 
 nearly approaches that of the rocks and dirt among 
 which they feed that it is almost impossible to dis- 
 tinguish them unless some movement reveals their 
 whereabouts. Careful scrutiny of the place where 
 the moving object was seen developed the fact that 
 
 147 
 
148 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 there was a band of the animals, but as they were 
 on a barren mountain-top, four hours were vainly 
 spent in the endeavour to get close to them without 
 being seen. Finding this to be impossible, Dyche re- 
 turned to camp, as he preferred to leave them for 
 another day when they might possibly be in some 
 more accessible place. 
 
 At nine o'clock next morning he was back again, 
 carefully scrutinising the rocks and hills, and at last 
 made out what he thought was the head of an old 
 ram on the top of one of the highest crags in the 
 vicinity. 
 
 Slipping carefully along the edge of the crag, he 
 got within a quarter of a mile of the sheep unob- 
 served, but could see no way of approaching nearer 
 without attracting the sentinel's attention. Nothing 
 was visible but that big fellow on the rock, but the 
 naturalist was confident that the whole band was 
 somewhere in the immediate neighbourhood. As- 
 cending a tree, he beheld a rare sight. In a sheltered 
 cove below the crag on which stood the watcher was 
 a band of seventeen big rams. Their fine propor- 
 tions, their enormous curving horns, and their appar- 
 ent freedom from all danger set the blood bounding 
 through the veins of the hunter as he took in the 
 situation from the top of that spruce tree. 
 
 For a full half -hour Dyche watched the animals 
 from his tree-top, and then he began to plan a way 
 of getting at them. Every foot of ground for five 
 hundred yards in every direction from the sen- 
 tinel's post was as bare as a floor, and there was 
 little encouragement offered the naturalist. The old 
 
HOW THE SENTINEL FELL. 149 
 
 ram stood like a carved statue, his only movement 
 being the turning of his head from one point of the 
 compass to another. For several minutes he would 
 gaze in one direction intently, and then jerk his head 
 around and look another way, but he was so far from 
 the hunter that the latter was unable to make out 
 when he was looking in the direction of the natural- 
 ist and when he was turned the other way. At last 
 Dyche determined to chance it and crawl up towards 
 the crag when he thought the ram was looking from 
 him. 
 
 The wind was in the hunter's favour, and had it not 
 been for the old ram on the rock the stalking of the 
 band would have been a very simple matter. As it 
 was, the only feasible plan appeared to be to crawl 
 over the grassy slope from the edge of the timber, 
 keeping to the right of the cove in which the sheep 
 were feeding. Hatchet and belt were left at the foot 
 of the tree, and the campaign began. 
 
 Carefully crawling about fifty yards into the open 
 space, the head of the sentinel came in sight outlined 
 against the sky. The head was plainly to be seen, 
 but the question to be solved was which way the 
 animal was looking. After watching the horns for 
 some time, Dyche decided that the ram was looking 
 away from him. He began pushing himself along, 
 watching those big horns all the while and stop- 
 ping at the slightest movement of the sheep's head. 
 This continued until noon, and the hunter was 
 just beginning to congratulate himself on the success 
 of his plan, when all his calculations were upset by 
 the appearance of a second pair of horns on the crag. 
 
150 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 As the new-comer seemed to be looking directly at 
 him and as the sheep appeared to be moving around 
 as if about to leave, Dyche feared that he had been dis- 
 covered and that the band was preparing to make a 
 break for some other mountain. The second sheep, 
 however, lay down on the top of the rock, and the first 
 sentinel went below to feed with the rest of the band. 
 The naturalist pushed on, depending now on the move- 
 ments of the head of the reclining sheep. Between 
 one and two o'clock two more sheep made their ap- 
 pearance on the crag, and all three moved about, but 
 finally two of them went below, leaving one watcher 
 on the top. 
 
 Worming his way along, he reached a small water- 
 worn gutter on the side of the slope. Crawling down 
 this until it joined a larger one, he made good head- 
 way up the slope until he reached the head of the 
 gutter. Fifty feet to his left was a string of low 
 bushes, and by edging, inch by inch, across the in- 
 tervening space, he soon had these for cover. Fifty 
 yards more would take him to the edge of the cove 
 where the band was feeding in fancied security. An 
 old scrubby evergreen bush and a few irregularities 
 in the ground afforded partial cover, and as Dyche 
 was weary of his hours of crawling, he made for the 
 bush with the hope of getting a little rest. By inches 
 he worked his way, and after five hours' crawling he 
 was at the edge of the cove, sheltered by a small 
 scrubby tree. 
 
 Covering the crown of his cap with twigs from the 
 tree, he slowly lifted his head and peered into the 
 cove. In that single glimpse he felt repaid for all 
 
HOW THE SENTINEL FELL. 151 
 
 the toil which he had undergone. Not over seventy- 
 five yards away was a band of sixteen as fine rams as 
 man ever set eyes on. He could hardly believe that 
 he was awake, for there, in plain sight, were the 
 sheep, some lying down chewing their cuds, others 
 feeding, while still others were walking aimlessly 
 about the cove. Now the naturalist began examining 
 each individual member of the band for the purpose 
 of selecting the best specimen. 
 
 There stood a monster, but his colour was a little too 
 light. Ah, there is a grand fellow ! He is the one. 
 But no, his horns are blunted at the points. There 
 is the right one. What magnificent horns ! What 
 a beautiful chestnut colour ! He is the one to adorn 
 the naturalist's exhibit at the World's Fair. The gun 
 is carefully trained on the animal and almost fired, 
 when a glance is given to the one on the top of the 
 crag. He is evidently the patriarch of the band. 
 What a beauty ! Perfect in size, shape, and colour, 
 with immense horns. But he is fully two hundred 
 yards away. Shall the chances betaken? The ques- 
 tion was soon solved, for Dyche made up his mind to 
 have that leader if he never shot another sheep. The 
 band was close enough to give him a second shot 
 before it got out of range, and he trained the Reming- 
 ton on the sentinel. The old guard stood broadside 
 to the hunter and presented a fine target. A puff of 
 smoke, a loud report, and then there was the sound of a 
 mighty rushing and scrambling of hoofs in the cove. 
 Hurriedly slipping a fresh cartridge into the gun, the 
 naturalist ran to the edge of the cove, but just got a 
 glimpse of the band disappearing over the slope to- 
 ll 
 
152 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 wards the woods. He was too late for another shot, 
 as the last of the band went into the timber as the 
 gun was raised. 
 
 Turning his attention to the old ram at which he 
 had fired, Dyche hastened, as rapidly as the lay of the 
 ground would permit, to the top of the crag. He 
 was sure that he had not missed, but when he 
 reached the spot not a sign of the ram was to be 
 seen. Not a drop of blood, not a hair was found 
 which would indicate that a wounded sheep had ever 
 stood on that rock. The hunter's disappointment 
 was almost too great to be borne. He had left a sure 
 shot in a vain attempt to accomplish too much, and 
 had lost the best opportunity he had ever had to se- 
 cure a fine specimen. 
 
 Making a circuit of the crag, he saw where the 
 ram had bounded away towards the woods. The 
 tracks were plain, but not a drop of blood was to be 
 seen anywhere along the trail. With a feeling of 
 disappointment that almost amounted to despair, 
 Dyche followed the trail mechanically. But he knew 
 there was no possible hope of overtaking that band. 
 Slowly he followed the tracks down the slope until 
 he found where they joined those of the main band, 
 and then he could see the broad trail where the flee- 
 ing sheep had ploughed up the ground in their mad 
 leaps down the declivity. Two days' hunting and six 
 hours of most wearisome crawling had been wasted, 
 all because he was not satisfied with what was in his 
 grasp, but must reach out for the unattainable. 
 
 With anything but pleasant thoughts the natural- 
 ist followed the trail of the fleeing animals through 
 
A PECULIAR WOUND. 153 
 
 the park. Clear across the park he could see the 
 fresh dirt which had been thrown up in the flight, 
 but no sheep was in sight. He stood looking at the 
 distant mountain-tops for a few minutes, debating 
 whether it would be wise to follow the band, and 
 then decided to return to camp and lament his folly. 
 Just as he turned in the direction where old Charlie 
 had been left feeding, a moving object in the edge of 
 the timber caused him to throw up his gun. As he 
 did so an old ram walked slowly out into the opening 
 and stopped in plain view with its head down and 
 then sank slowly to the ground. Dyche walked to 
 within fifty yards of the animal, but it never moved, 
 and approaching nearer, the naturalist saw that the 
 ram at which he had fired was dead at his feet. The 
 ball had entered too high to hit the heart and too low 
 to break the back, and the wound was of such a nature 
 that all the blood ran into the cavity of the body, 
 which accounted for the absence of blood on the 
 rocks. 
 
 The revulsion of feelings from his deep disappoint- 
 ment was so great that the hunter felt literally re- 
 freshed, and proceeded to measure and skin his prize, 
 after which he carried the load to old Charlie and 
 made his way to camp. He longed for his com- 
 panions now, to share with him the joy of the prize, 
 but he was too tired to waste time in regretting their 
 absence, and was soon sound asleep after his hard 
 day's work. 
 
 Dyche now had plenty of rams, but he needed 
 ewes and lambs to complete his collection. Several 
 days were spent in fruitless stalks after bands of 
 
154 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 sheep, and then it was decided to go farther north to 
 another range, where possibly the ewes and lambs 
 could be found. The specimens were cached, and 
 the hunters started through deep canons and over 
 rocky crags, going two days in this way until they 
 reached the wildest country they had yet seen. Dur- 
 ing the day Dyche's watch stopped, and in order to 
 get the time two strings were hung in line with the 
 north star. At noon next day, when the sun threw 
 the shadow of one string on the other, the time-piece 
 was set at twelve, and in honor of the event the place 
 was named Camp North Star. 
 
 A band of sheep was seen that evening on the top 
 of a high mountain, and next day Dyche saw a band 
 of fourteen and made a long and tedious stalk to get 
 near them. The animals were feeding in a patch of 
 timber, and the hunter could get no closer than within 
 two hundred yards of the band. The sheep were in 
 a patch of timber on the side of the mountain, and 
 the naturalist sat patiently waiting for them to feed 
 towards him. They appeared to be travelling slowly 
 his way, but he could only get occasional glimpses of 
 them through the woods. 
 
 Suddenly he heard a rushing sound, and looking 
 from his hiding-place he saw a small band of sheep 
 flying up the mountain, while the others were mak- 
 ing as good headway in another direction. The wind 
 had changed, and they had got scent of the hunter 
 and were thoroughly frightened. Well knowing the 
 futility of a pursuit, Dyche made his way back to 
 camp, killing a white- backed woodchuck and a grouse 
 as he went. 
 
THE COLLECTION COMPLETED. 165 
 
 A cold wind was blowing from the northwest 
 and snow-flakes were filling the air next morning, 
 but Dyche was determined to secure a lamb and ewe 
 if possible. Saddling old Charlie, he rode five miles 
 west. About noon he saw two old ewes and a year- 
 ling. Jumping from the horse, he stalked the little 
 band which was working his way. They fed on 
 towards him until they were within sixty yards of 
 his hiding-place. Concluding that he could kill the 
 yearling with a load of shot from the shot-gun and 
 follow it up by killing a ewe with the rifle, the natu- 
 ralist opened fire and saw the yearling running at 
 full speed towards the timber as if nothing had hit it. 
 Snatching up the rifle he sent a ball after it, dropping 
 it at the edge of the timber. The ewes, of course, 
 were out of sight, and this incident caused Dyche ever 
 after to discard the shot-gun when hunting big game. 
 
 As supplies were running short the specimens were 
 taken to Thorp's ranch, and the hunter outfitted for 
 another hunt after ewes and lambs. The trip to the 
 ranch and back to Camp North Star was made with- 
 out incident, and on the morning after the return 
 Dyche took an early start, and by sunrise was on the 
 flat top of a mountain where he had seen so many 
 indications of game. 
 
 About ten o'clock a spot was reached where the 
 numerous signs showed that a large band of sheep 
 had been feeding recently. On the south side of the 
 mountain the wind and rain of summer and the 
 frosts of winter for centuries had been breaking off 
 masses of rock, which had accumulated in a sheltered 
 nook. The sheep had pawed out this soft, crumbling 
 
156 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 rock and made beds, which were lined with gravel 
 and smooth stones and were dry, showing that they 
 had been occupied very recently. There were over 
 seventy of these beds, and Dyche began to work very 
 carefully, for he was confident that he was near a 
 large band. About half a mile from the beds he 
 reached the edge of the flat top of the mountain, and 
 crawling to the edge he peered over. A great, un- 
 dulating slope stretched from the mountain-top to the 
 woods on the other side, and this was scanned closely, 
 until at last the naturalist made out moving objects 
 below. They were sheep, and over thirty were in 
 sight at one time. The wind was in the hunter's fa- 
 vour, but the country was bad for stalking, as the 
 animals were feeding over a large open space and 
 were scattered in small bands. 
 
 Making a long circuit, Dyche went down a canon 
 and approached the game from another direction. 
 From his new position he could count fifty-seven 
 sheep, but the nearest was three hundred yards 
 away, and the naturalist could see no way of getting 
 nearer without being seen. He took another two- 
 mile circuit and again approached the timber. From 
 its edge he crawled up a small ravine, fearing each 
 minute that some of the animals would take alarm and 
 scatter the band. The head of the ravine was finally 
 reached, and lifting his head carefully he saw five 
 sheep within a hundred yards. Two old ewes and 
 three small bucks, probably yearlings, were feeding 
 within easy range, but Dyche wanted a lamb, and 
 hesitated whether to shoot at the sheep in sight or 
 wait for a better opportunity. 
 
THE COLLECTION COMPLETED. 157 
 
 Deciding to try again he began a retrograde move- 
 ment, although he ran the risk of frightening 
 away the whole band. He felt, however, that if he 
 missed a lamb this time he would have great diffi- 
 culty in getting so close to one again. Crawling 
 slowly up another ravine, he got sight of an old ewe 
 and a lamb. They were just what he wanted, but 
 they were over two hundred yards off and there was 
 no possible way of getting closer. He determined to 
 let them go, and crawled back to the woods and went 
 up another ravine. He had crawled about two 
 hundred yards when two sheep fed along the head of 
 the ravine. The naturalist flattened himself to the 
 ground, fearful that he had been seen. The animals 
 fed in almost the same place for fully an hour, 
 and the hunter was just beginning to feel that he 
 would have to move even at the risk of scaring away 
 the whole band, when they went around a knoll. 
 
 Crawling to the head of the ravine Dyche carefully 
 lifted his head, but there was nothing in sight. 
 Waiting a few minutes he crawled out on the grassy 
 slope, hiding himself as much as possible, flattening 
 himself to the ground. His movement was evidently 
 seen by some watchful sheep, for he suddenly heard 
 a tremendous rushing of the frightened animals, and 
 jumping to his feet saw sheep everywhere going at 
 full speed. The Winchester was trained at the flying 
 animals, and an old ewe received the first shot. 
 Without waiting to see the effect of the shot, another 
 ball was sent after a lamb that was just going over 
 a knoll. The ewe made a few jumps and dropped, 
 and fifty yards over the knoll the lamb lay dead. 
 
158 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 The bullet had struck him in the hip and ranged for- 
 wards to the neck, not coming out. 
 
 All this stalking had occupied much time, and it 
 was now between three and four o'clock in the after- 
 noon and camp was a long way off. An hour was 
 spent taking notes and measurements and skinning 
 the animals, and then Dyche started for camp, carry- 
 ing the load of skins, skulls, and a portion of the lamb. 
 The way was long and rough, and finally he was com- 
 pelled to cache the greater portion of his load and 
 proceed with his quarter of lamb. 
 
 Next morning it was snowing heavily, and the 
 northwest wind cut to the bone. Dyche waited 
 for a cessation of the storm, but finding that 
 there were no indications of a lull he saddled Slim 
 Jim, the meanest and fattest horse in camp, and 
 started after his specimens. The snow had changed 
 the appearance of the country so much that he 
 could hardly make out the landmarks which he 
 had noticed the day before, but just as he was 
 about to give up the search he saw a moving object 
 among the trees. Suddenly an old ram came into 
 view at the edge of the timber. Jumping from his 
 horse, Dyche began to unfasten his gun and the ram 
 started for the timber, climbing up the rocky ledge. 
 By the time the gun was out of its fastenings the ram 
 was at the top of the ledge, but here he made a mis- 
 take. He stopped to look back. Just at that moment 
 Dyche dropped on one knee and sent a bullet after 
 him. As the gun cracked the sheep jumped away, 
 and Slim Jim did likewise. Dyche spent fifteen min- 
 utes catching the horse, and then went to look for 
 
THE COLLECTION COMPLETED. 159 
 
 the sheep, which he found just over the ledge, stone 
 dead. 
 
 Very little time was spent in the measurements 
 and skinning, and Dyche started to camp with the 
 load, intending to leave the ewe and lamb for next 
 day ; he knew that nothing would touch them, for 
 two handkerchiefs floated over them as danger-sig- 
 nals. While wandering around trying to find the 
 way to camp he reached the spot where he had killed 
 the ewe and lamb, and thus getting his bearings poon 
 found where he had cached the skeletons and skins. 
 Placing these on Jim's back, the whole load was 
 taken to camp. 
 
 The naturalist now had a complete collection of 
 sheep of all ages and kinds which made up a complete 
 family, and he concluded that he had had enough 
 sheep-hunting. In addition to the sheep, he had 
 many smaller specimens and several fine mule 
 buck skins and skeletons. Several days were spent 
 in getting out of the country. Horns and skeletons 
 are not easily carried on horses, for the rough and 
 rocky trails are liable to cause accidents which will 
 break the fragile bones. It was after dark when 
 camp was made the first night, and it took until 
 nine o'clock next morning to get the packs arranged 
 again. Everything was piled up in such a way that 
 the place was named Camp Confusion. 
 
 About noon the trail led through a patch of blue- 
 berries, and here the horses were unpacked and the 
 hunters regaled themselves on the berries. These 
 were of two kinds : a large variety with a whitish 
 bloom on the berry and a small black one. The 
 
160 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 large ones were full of meat, while the small ones 
 were very juicy, and a judicious combination made 
 a very palatable dish. 
 
 Dyche and his companion had now been living on 
 a meat diet for ten days, and they were beginning to 
 feel the effects of it. As they were within a day's 
 journey of Thorp's ranch, a pint of navy beans, which 
 had been held in reserve in case of sickness, was 
 brought out and made into soup. So well did the sup- 
 per please the naturalist that the camp was at once 
 christened Camp Bean Soup in honour of the occasion. 
 Breakfast was made from the rest of the soup next 
 morning, and late in the afternoon they reached 
 Thorp's ranch, tired and hungry. 
 
 Thorp's garden, full of ripe vegetables, had a charm 
 for the hungry hunters, and Dyche regaled himself 
 with tomatoes from the vines. Letters from home 
 were waiting for him by the dozen. The regular rate 
 of postage was twenty-five cents, but Loomis, the 
 postmaster, bunched the lot at ten cents each. 
 
 Several days were spent in packing and storing 
 specimens, but Dyche was not yet ready to leave the 
 country. He knew that Rocky Mountain goats and 
 caribou were to be found somewhere in this vicinity, 
 and he meant to have some of them if possible. Many 
 were the stories told him about the mysterious Kettle 
 River country. There were hundreds of miles of 
 unbroken forests where foot of white man had never 
 trod, where game in vast numbers was so tame that 
 deer would not run when man approached, and 
 where wolves roamed in ferocious bands. While 
 Dyche was a little sceptical about these stories, he 
 
THE COLLECTION COMPLETED. 161 
 
 thought there must be something in them. Caribou 
 and goats were the specimens that he now wanted. 
 Indians told of great droves of caribou which wan- 
 dered hundreds of miles up in the woods at the head- 
 waters of Kettle River, and the naturalist felt that 
 he could go where an Indian could, and he deter- 
 mined to make the journey. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 On Kettle River — Okonagan Smith and his Lonely Ranch — The 
 Great Northern Boundary — Trials and Tribulations — " Fool 
 Hens " — Through Fallen Trees — An Arduous Journey. 
 
 |NE hundred miles up the river was a 
 cabin built by three noted trappers and 
 mountaineers — Farrell, McLaughlin, and 
 Dore. Beyond this cabin was an unex- 
 plored wilderness where no white man was ever known 
 to have been and where few Indians had ever wan- 
 dered. An unbroken forest stretched away hundreds 
 of miles to the far north to the foot of the white- 
 topped mountains, on whose slopes vast herds of deer 
 and caribou were supposed to roam, and where bears, 
 wolves, and mountain lions were thought to be in 
 countless numbers. The white crags and peaks of 
 the mountains were supposed to be the home of goats 
 and sheep. AU this was surmise, however, for man 
 had never been there to report. Caribou had come 
 down as far as the trappers' cabin during the coldest 
 weather of the winter before, and five had been killed 
 and many seen near the camp. Immense droves of 
 gray wolves had ranged about the cabin, while 
 wolverines and bears had left many tracks. 
 
 All these stories indicated that the trip would be 
 interesting, to say the least ; but Dyche had heard too 
 
 162 
 
SMITH'S LONELY RANCH. 163 
 
 much of this kind of talk to be deterred from his un- 
 dertaking, and after two days of rest at the trading 
 post he was ready to start into the unknown land. 
 
 Twenty miles of tedious travel over a dry and dusty 
 road carried them to Okonagan Smith's ranch, on the 
 shore of the lake which had given its name to the 
 settler. For thirty years this man had been cultivat- 
 ing a piece o"f land there, and he still has the country 
 all to himself. His ranch extended into the lake in 
 such a manner that it could easily be irrigated, and 
 it held a fine bearing peach and apple orchard. Here, 
 with his Indian wife and two half-breed daughters, 
 he was happy and contented away from the cares of 
 civilisation. 
 
 After a bad night on account of the kicking and 
 squealing horses, an early start from the ranch was 
 made. The route lay eastward, over a country where 
 there was plenty of wood, water, and grass, and 
 Dyche felt that that trip was to be one of pleasure 
 instead of the hardships which he had previously un- 
 dergone. As the sequel will show, his calculations 
 were wrong. While passing along over easy trails 
 through the timber, the naturalists came into an 
 opening where the trees had been cut down and a 
 broad way cleaned off as if a right of way for a rail- 
 road had been cleared through the forest. The work 
 had evidently been done several years before, as the 
 stumps were old. The broad path could be seen 
 stretching away for miles in each direction, going 
 right over mountain and through valley, never devi- 
 ating from a straight line. The strange appearance 
 greatly puzzled the hunter and his companion, and 
 
164 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 it was not until they reached a small settlement on 
 Rock Creek that the mystery was cleared. They had 
 seen the dividing line between the dominions of Eng- 
 land and the United States. 
 
 That night they were compelled to camp in the 
 dark, with neither water nor grass, and they chris- 
 tened the place Camp Necessity. When morning 
 came they found that they were near an old Indian 
 camp. On all sides bones of deer were found, and a 
 stack of antlers twenty feet high had been piled up 
 between two trees. They travelled until nine o'clock 
 before they found water and grass. All day long 
 their way lay through a dense forest. No life was 
 to be seen except vegetable life, and not a sound was 
 to be heard except the wind in the tree- tops. After 
 a hard struggle through the fallen timber an open 
 spot was reached on the river-bank late in the even- 
 ing. A beaver dam showed its top just above the 
 water, and the trees on the bank gave evidences of 
 the work of the industrious animals. One tree which 
 had been cut had a diameter of over four feet, and 
 from this the camp received the name of Camp 
 Beaver Tree. 
 
 A light rain, the first of the season, fell during the 
 night, and next morning they started early, trying to 
 follow the old trail of the trappers. About the mid- 
 dle of the afternoon the cabin, on the banks of a little 
 stream which emptied into Kettle River, was reached, 
 but no stop was made. About four miles farther up 
 the river an opening was found where there was 
 grass and water, and here camp was made for the 
 night. The stillness of the dense woods was simply 
 
TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS. 165 
 
 awful. The only sound that broke the silence was 
 the dismal hooting of a number of owls which made 
 night hideous with their peculiar cry. The uncanny 
 sound produced such a nervousness that sleep was 
 much interrupted, and after naming the place Camp 
 Owl Hoot the hunters made haste away from the 
 spot. A tall tree was climbed and the lay of the land 
 noticed, and the northward way resumed about 
 daylight. 
 
 An almost impenetrable forest was now before 
 them. No trail was to be found. The rivulet was 
 dry, and the bed of this was followed until it ended 
 at the foot of a ridge. On the ridge a grassy spot 
 was found where a few deer-tracks gave the first in- 
 dication of animal life. In every direction from this 
 spot dense thickets of poles stood in such confusion 
 that it was necessary to cut a way through. This 
 labourious proceeding was continued until late in the 
 evening, when a small lake w^as reached and camp 
 made for the night. The lake was alive with water- 
 birds, and a fat mallard duck made a supper for the 
 hunters. All seemed peaceful when the tired natural- 
 ists crawled into their sleeping-bags, but scarcely 
 had they composed themselves when a series of 
 shrieks and yells, which appeared to come from the 
 vicinity of the lake, sent them bounding from their 
 beds to their guns. The sound died away, and after 
 waiting in suspense for some time they again sought 
 rest. They slept soundly until just at daylight, when 
 again the unearthly cries broke the stillness, and 
 the hunters hastened to their feet. An investigation 
 showed that a flock of loons had been feeding on the 
 
166 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 lake near the camp, and it was their cries that caused 
 the alarm. 
 
 No sign of a trail could be found, and all day the 
 cutting of poles was continued. Night found the 
 hunters still in the midst of thick woods, and Dyche, 
 finding a caribou horn, took it as an omen of good 
 luck and made camp on the spot. 
 
 All next day was spent in a similar manner. The 
 party was still headed up Kettle River, and pene- 
 trated the dense mass of poles and fallen trees. They 
 were in a veritable terra incognita. No hatchet or 
 axe had ever been used in the whole expanse of 
 country. No sign of the presence of man was to be 
 found anywhere. It was hard and lonesome travel- 
 ling, and forage for the horses was always uncertain, 
 but there was a fascination about it. They never 
 knew at what moment they might meet with some 
 exciting adventure. 
 
 Just as night was coming on they saw a flock of 
 Canadian grouse, which were so tame that six of them 
 were killed with sticks and stones. These beautiful 
 birds are known in the country as "fool hens," on 
 account of their tameness. Camp Fool Hen was 
 christened and supper made of the birds. The cocks 
 are a mottled gray with black breasts. A small fiery 
 red comb stands up above the eyes, and usually they 
 are strutting around like miniature turkey-gobblers. 
 When approached they would run a few feet out of 
 the way or fly to the lowest branches of the nearest 
 tree and sit until they were knocked over with sticks. 
 Over thirty of them were killed on this trip up Kettle 
 River with sticks and stones. Dyche found four in 
 
THROUGH FALLEN TREES. 167 
 
 an open space, and with a pole twelve feet long killed 
 all of them. 
 
 All next day was spent in a wearisome march over 
 fallen logs and through pole thickets, until the whole 
 party, horses and all, were almost worn out. All day 
 long the horses had been led through the wilderness, 
 jumping over logs and crawling through narrow 
 places until their legs were covered with scratches 
 and bruises. Old Charlie would try anything in the 
 shape of a log, and would jump any not higher than 
 his breast. Billie was of different mould, and would 
 stand and shake his head at every obstruction. If 
 he did not jump when the head-shaking was fin- 
 ished, that was the end of it, for no power on earth 
 could make him go over, and he had to be led around 
 or a path cut through for him. Camp was made in 
 the densest woods where a little water seeped through 
 the moss, and as a chickadee flew near and enlivened 
 the place with his chirp, the place was christened 
 Camp Chickadee. 
 
 Next morning Dyche climbed to the top of the 
 tallest tree in the vicinity and endeavoured to make 
 out the way through the forest. To the north rose 
 the white-topped mountains, seemingly only about 
 ten miles away, and this sight so inspired him that 
 the party went forwards with better heart. For about 
 a mile the way led through comparatively open tim- 
 ber, and then an immense spruce forest was entered. 
 A fire had raged through this some time before and 
 left a mass of fallen logs that was almost impene- 
 trable. Huge logs lay in greatest confusion, com- 
 pelling the travellers to turn and twist in every con- 
 12 
 
168 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 ceivable direction, over and under, until they had to 
 stop from sheer exhaustion. The horses were jumped 
 over logs until they could jump no more. The hunt- 
 ers chopped logs until it was almost impossible to 
 lift an axe. Then they came to a stand-still. A 
 little prospecting discovered water and grass in a 
 swampy place near by, and an hour was consumed 
 in getting the horses to the spot. It was late in the 
 afternoon, and camp was made in one of the wildest 
 places ever visited by man. The swamp was full of 
 high and low bush blueberries, and a quart of these 
 supplied the supper, while the sparse grass made a 
 meal for the horses. One day of rest was taken here, 
 for while it was not a good place to camp, it was bet- 
 ter than the continuous travel through the wilderness 
 of poles and fallen timber. 
 
 The density of the forest was so great that the 
 white tent could not be seen fifty yards away, and to 
 leave camp was a dangerous undertaking. One per- 
 son was compelled to remain at the tent all the time 
 to give necessary signals when the other went out to 
 look for game or to spy out the way. Bear, deer, and 
 caribou tracks were seen in the swamp, but it was 
 impossible to hunt them in the dense woods. One 
 deer came near the camp and was shot for meat. 
 
 A careful examination of the country showed the 
 futility of an attempt at farther progress in that 
 direction, and the back track was taken for five or six 
 miles, and then an attempt was made to go east. 
 Seven miles in this direction were covered when 
 night came on, and they were compelled to camp. 
 Dyche started on a prospecting tour, blazing his way, 
 
AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY. 169 
 
 in an attempt to find some way out of the country, 
 but he gave it up in despair. Naming the place Camp 
 Last Attempt, next morning they turned south and 
 travelled until they found a place where the ground 
 was moist. A hole was dug, and the seepage gave 
 enough water to fill a quart-cup. So careful were the 
 hunters with this that they dipped it from the hole 
 with a spoon for fear of losing a drop. The horses 
 were compelled to go without water until Camp 
 Chickadee was reached next day. 
 
 Resolving on one more effort next day, a northeast- 
 erly direction was taken with the hope of leaving the 
 worst of the swamp to the west. After a hard day's 
 travel a small opening in the woods was found where 
 there was water and grass. Camp was made, and 
 Dyche was soon at the top of a tall tree looking over 
 the country. The bald tops of the mountains looked 
 invitingly near, and it was determined to get to them 
 if possible. There was sufiicient grass to last the 
 horses two days, and it was decided to leave them 
 here and proceed on foot to the base of the mountain. 
 Dyche carried the axe, and the two men started due 
 north, blazing a trail through the deep woods. They 
 were compelled to zigzag through the timber, and 
 while the blazes were frequent and large, there were 
 none too many when they returned. 
 
 At three o'clock in the afternoon the base of the 
 mountains was reached, and they hastened to the top, 
 where many tracks of deer and caribou were seen. 
 On all sides droves of deer were feeding on the 
 rich grass which grew in profusion on the slopes. 
 From the top of the mountain the country was ex- 
 
170 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 amined. The apparently boundless forest through 
 which they had come appeared to be a small grove 
 compared with the forest whidi spread out before 
 them. An hour was spent here, and then the hunters 
 hastened down to the timber to find the way back to 
 camp. At the edge of the timber they found the 
 blazed trail which led to the little white tent miles 
 away in the trackless forest. If the darkness should 
 prevent them from finding this trail, then the search 
 for the tent would be hopeless indeed. 
 
 Evening came on and then darkness, and then the 
 blazes could no longer be seen. One of the hunters 
 would stand by a blazed tree while the other went on 
 until he found the next one, and thus they proceeded, 
 almost groping their way, until half-past ten, when 
 they came to the opening and found the tent. It 
 was late next morning when they arose, and they 
 at once came to the conclusion that the only thing 
 left to do was to get back out of the country as soon 
 as possible. It was evident that they could not hunt 
 to advantage in such a jungle, and if they killed 
 anything it would be almost impossible to get the 
 specimens out of the country. The pack-horses were 
 so weakened by lack of grass and water that they 
 could carry nothing more than they had, and the 
 specimens would be so torn that they would be use- 
 less. The back track was taken in a snow-storm, and 
 the hunters were almost discouraged over their bad 
 luck. The whole day was spent chopping a trail 
 through the dense thicket with neither grass nor 
 water. 
 
 They were compelled to camp without water, and 
 
AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY. 171 
 
 when they began to prepare supper they found that a 
 hole had been torn in the gunny-sack in which was 
 carried the meat, and the bacon and remaining veni- 
 son had fallen out on the trail. Search was made for 
 water, and a little was found a quarter of a mile 
 away. Supper of oatmeal mush, biscuit, apple-sauce, 
 and tea was a light diet for hungry men, but it was 
 the best that now remained until they could find some 
 game. Next morning Dyche hunted back three or 
 four miles in hopes of finding the lost meat, but with 
 no success. He killed a " fool hen," but all other ani- 
 mal life appeared to have deserted the forest. Even 
 the few woodpeckers which flitted about the trees 
 seemed so cowed by the stillness that they neither 
 tapped the trees nor cried. 
 
 The silence of these forests was fairly appalling. 
 Not a sound broke the quiet but the moaning of 
 the trees as they rubbed against each other. It 
 rained, and the water came through the dense tops as 
 a fine mist. It snowed, and the flakes sifted down 
 through the spruce boughs like finely ground flour. 
 In this dreary lonesomeness the sound of the human 
 voice appeared strange, and words were rarely spoken 
 above a whisper. 
 
 In the course of the night the snow turned to rain, 
 and next morning an easterly direction was taken. 
 Down a canon and up on a ridge their way led for two 
 hours, when the top of the mountain was reached. 
 From the tops of trees it was discovered that a flat 
 country lay to the northeast, and the trail was turned 
 in this direction. Again and again were trees 
 climbed in hope of seeing something, and at last a 
 
172 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 number of lakes appeared still farther to the east. A 
 straight trail was taken to this spot, and the lake 
 was reached just at dark in the midst of a heavy 
 snow-storm. The body of water was small and was 
 full of beaver, from which fact it received the name 
 of Beaver Lake. 
 
 After breakfast next morning a little prospecting 
 was done, and it was found that Beaver Lake emptied 
 into a larger lake. In the centre of the large lake 
 was a small island, and it was named Island Lake. 
 Camp was moved to the shore of Island Lake. Here 
 was found a regular runway of animals. A path 
 made by bears, deer, caribou, wolves, and wolverines 
 led all around the lake. It was evidently the spot 
 where game could be found in abundance, and was 
 just the place for a long stay. But Dyche and his 
 companion had a dispute over the direction of the 
 points of the compass, and as the sun decided in 
 favour of the naturalist, his guide had such a fit of 
 sulks that he insisted upon leaving the country at 
 once. It was a foolish move, but it would have been 
 a worse one for Dyche to have attempted to remain 
 there alone. The back trail was taken next morn- 
 ing through deep snow, under bushes which were 
 bending with their load of the frozen crystals. 
 
 Out of meat and with provisions getting scarcer 
 every day, the situation was desperate. While bean 
 soup was considered quite a delicacy when properly 
 made and when not eaten too often, it was found 
 that it lacked flavour when it lacked bacon. " What, 
 is bean soup without bacon?" was an expression that 
 became indelibly fixed in the mind of the naturalist. 
 
AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY. 178 
 
 All day was spent in travelling through the forest, 
 and late in the evening camp was made about four 
 miles above the old cabin, whence the trail led out to 
 civilisation. A halt was made here for one day, and 
 a fine two-point buck was killed, giving them wel- 
 come meat after their privations. At four o'clock in 
 the afternoon of the next day the cabin was reached, 
 and was found to be occupied by four prospectors, 
 who were delighted over the "colours" which they 
 had found in the creek. But indications of gold 
 held no charm for the naturalist, and the way down 
 the river was continued. The horses were in bad 
 condition, and they travelled very slowly. During 
 one of his side excursions after a straying horse, 
 Dyche shot a coyote, and this, with a dozen or so 
 skins of "fool hens," constituted the specimens 
 secured in a trip of over a month in the wildest part 
 of North America. 
 
 For two days they now travelled on a diet of veni- 
 son, as their provisions were gone. A delicious re- 
 past of ripe peaches from Thorp's orchard freshened 
 them up and a good supper renewed their energies 
 so that they slept without care. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 In the Cascades — A Forest Fire — After Rocky Mountain Goats 
 — The First Shot— Down the Mountain — A Successful 
 Hunter — A Night of Hardships — A Naturalist's Labours. 
 
 ^^ShREE days spent at Thorp's ranch pre- 
 paring for an expedition after Rocky- 
 Mountain goats put the horses in fair con- 
 dition for travelling, and they went along 
 at a good rate on the first day. The whole country 
 to the north and northwest was covered with smoke 
 from the forest fires which had been started by In- 
 dians to bunch the deer. Hundreds of the animals 
 were slaughtered and thousands of acres of the most 
 magnificent timber land in the country burned over 
 and ruined by these Indians. On the first day out 
 from Thorp's ranch thirty-seven deer were seen. 
 There was a camp of Indians near old Camp Victoria, 
 and here Dyche stopped for a few minutes' talk with 
 the redskins. Dozens of dogs greeted him as he ap- 
 proached the camp, and about a dozen bucks came 
 out and stretched themselves on the ground near the 
 naturalist, with the exclamation " How !" 
 
 As the red men could talk a little broken English, 
 the hunter endeavoured to get information from them 
 regarding game. The spokesman held up five fingers 
 and said, " Mowwich," indicating that he had killed 
 
 174 
 
A FOREST FIRE. 175 
 
 five deer. Then pointing to each of his companions 
 in turn, he held up the number of fingers suitable to 
 their achievements and repeated the word. Dyche 
 asked about sheep and the Indian pointed to the moun- 
 tains far to the west. He then asked about goats, 
 or "white sheep." The Indians consulted a little 
 and then pointed to the crags in the northwest and 
 said, " White sheep high up." One Indian supple- 
 mented this information with the remark, " Me no 
 hunt him," whereat the others laughed boisterously. 
 Dyche declined the invitation to "come down," and 
 rode on until a suitable camping-place was found. 
 
 Several days were now spent on the trail over 
 mountains, through masses of rock and down timber, 
 while the whole country was almost obscured by the 
 smoke from fires which were raging on the other 
 side of the range. Finally farther headway was pre- 
 vented by the fire, and in a little valley, through which 
 leaped a sparkling stream and along whose edges 
 grew an abundance of grass, camp was made. A 
 fence of poles behind them and the fire below pre- 
 vented the horses from straying awaj'-. As usual, old 
 Charlie would not go away from the tent, and it 
 became necessary to lead him down to the stream to 
 keep him away from the camp. He seemed to pre- 
 fer the smell of the camp to the best grass on the 
 range. During the whole time he was in the moun- 
 tains he always remained within a few yards of the 
 tent unless he was driven away. 
 
 Immediately after camp was made Dyche started 
 on an exploring expedition. A light breeze was 
 blowing the smoke in great clouds up the east side of 
 
176 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 the canon, and Dyche climbed the west side. After 
 hours of hard work he reached a projecting crag, 
 where the full beauty and magnificence of the moun- 
 tain fire burst on his gaze. Thousands upon thou- 
 sands of veritable monarchs of the forest were being 
 swallowed up in the dreadful conflagration. Ruin 
 was spreading over miles of territory, simply that 
 the lazy Indians might hunt more easily. 
 
 On the way down the mountain he noticed a bunch 
 of white bristly hair attached to a jutting rock, and 
 by the light of the camp-fire he decided that it had 
 been scratched from the side of a Eocky Mountain 
 goat. This convinced the naturalist that he was 
 near the animals for which this trip had been made, 
 and daylight next morning found him on his way up 
 the side of the mountain. 
 
 Here were the steepest and most inaccessible of the 
 steep and rugged Cascades. Long ages of frost and 
 sunshine had torn great masses of rock from the sides 
 of the projecting crags, which had plunged to the bot- 
 tom, ploughing immense furrows down the moun- 
 tain's sides and piling up in a confused jumble at 
 the base. From the almost perpendicular sides of the 
 precipices projected here and there shelves or benches 
 of rock, to which clung stunted and dwarfed growths 
 of pines and spruce, while zigzagging up from one 
 bench to another were little gulches or chasms 
 which gave the explorer an opportunity to reach the 
 top after the expenditure of great labour. Two 
 hours of hard work placed Dyche about two-thirds 
 of the way up the mountain, and here he found 
 a shelf running apparently around the face of the 
 
AFTER ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOATS. 177 
 
 crags. Following along this bench he reached a 
 point overlooking the entire valley below, and here 
 he found, in the crumbling rock and debris, the bed 
 of a goat. It was similar to those which the sheep 
 had made, but sticking to the sides could be seen 
 the long bristly white hairs of the goat. 
 
 Here evidently the old billy had selected a spot in 
 which to chew his cud, for from this point .he could 
 view the whole country at his leisure. A short dis- 
 tance farther on three more beds were found, and 
 many tracks indicated that this bench was the favour- 
 ite resting-place for goats. While proceeding cau- 
 tiously, Dyche was suddenly brought to a stand-still 
 by the noise of a stone rolling down the mountain 
 ahead of him. Well knowing that when stones move 
 some animal life must be near, he stopped and listened 
 until the noise was repeated, and then he ran to the 
 end of the bench, about a hundred yards beyond. 
 The increasing noise showed that some animal was 
 hastening down the mountain. 
 
 Slipping off his shoes and depositing his camera 
 with them, the naturalist started on a noiseless run 
 towards the place whence came the sound. At this 
 point the formation of the mountain was peculiar, in 
 that there were two shelves or benches, one a short 
 distance above the other. These were connected by 
 a series of gulches, thus lea-ving a number of jutting 
 crags extending from the upper bench. The animal 
 reached the end of the lower bench as the hunter ar- 
 rived at the end of the upper, and now began a race 
 back. As Dyche reached the crag he saw some white, 
 shaggy object just disappearing around the rock be- 
 
178 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 low him. The first thought that flashed across the 
 mind of the naturalist was that it answered the de- 
 scription of a polar bear, and then he realised that he 
 had seen a goat. The animal was skulking along on 
 the lower bench at a fair gait, and Dyche turned and 
 ran back along the upper ledge as fast and silently as 
 possible. He reached the head of the first gulch 
 just in time to see the goat go behind the next crag, 
 and then made another run of about forty yards to 
 the next opening, where he got another sight of it. 
 Dyche was running up and down the mountain, 
 while the animal was going along on a level. Al- 
 most exhausted, and breathless from running so vio- 
 lently in the high altitude, his hmgs working to their 
 full capacity, perspiration pouring down his face, and 
 his heart throbbing as if it would burst, the hunter 
 pressed on. 
 
 Another run and a rest and he could hear the 
 stones rolling ahead of him. Again he ran fifty 
 yards, calling into play all his surplus energy, and 
 waited on the point of a crag, but again he was just 
 too late. He could hear the animal still ahead of 
 him. A run of a hundred yards at full speed placed 
 the hunter on a crag just in time to see the goat dis- 
 appear about seventy yards away. This sight was 
 sufficient to nerve the naturalist for one more effort. 
 A grand spurt was made for about twenty-five yards 
 up hill, and the head of the cove was reached. Dyche 
 stopped, gasping for breath and almost exhausted, 
 but stood stock-still and listened. Suddenly a big 
 white object sprang upon a crag in front of and be- 
 low him, not over seventy-five yards away. It 
 
DOWN THE MOUNTAIN. 179 
 
 was a large goat, the animal which had given 
 him such a chase. Wiping the perspiration from 
 his eyes, the naturalist drew down the Winchester 
 and compelled his muscles to be steady long enough 
 to take good aim, notwithstanding the fact that he 
 was almost sinking from exhaustion. Logs and 
 rocks obscured the goat, so that Dyche was com- 
 pelled to stand on tiptoe to get sight at the top of the 
 goat's back. 
 
 'With the report of the gun the animal disap- 
 peared in a cloud of dust which rose from the spot 
 below where it had been standing. Down the canon 
 rushed the excited naturalist after the goat. Roll- 
 ing and tumbling, he went down the gulch to the 
 place where the goat had been, but it was gone. 
 A cloud of dust, however, showed that the animal 
 was also rolling down the declivity ahead of him, 
 and without waiting to figure on the consequences 
 the hunter dashed after his prize. The melt- 
 ing snow had left a mass of debris in the gulch 
 which had been ground to dust and which was now 
 dry and light. The struggles of the goat sent this 
 dust rolling in clouds back to where the naturalist 
 was following and almost choked him. Slipping 
 and falling he hurried on, and at last saw the shaggy 
 brute lying on its back by the side of a log. As it 
 stood on the crag it had looked like a small albino 
 buffalo, and when dead the resemblance was al- 
 most perfect. The ball had gone through the top 
 of the back just above the spine and had paralyzed 
 the fore-legs. The goat was making ineffectual 
 struggles to get on its feet. Dyche rolled down to 
 
180 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 within a few feet of the animal and lay there so ex- 
 hausted that he could not move. 
 
 It was well that the goat was disabled, for the 
 hunter could have done nothing to have stopped it 
 had it recovered sufficiently to start away. Thus he 
 lay for full five minutes, gasping, before he could 
 recover sufiiciently to attend to his game. Regaining 
 his breath and strength by degrees, the naturalist 
 finally began taking notes, and having dispatched the 
 goat with his knife, he walked back to the place where 
 he had left his camera. He photographed the animal 
 just as it had fallen. Three hours were now spent in 
 measuring and skinning the goat, and at three o'clock 
 in the afternoon the hunter started for camp at the 
 foot of a steep mountain. 
 
 The package of skin and bones was about as heavy 
 a load as Dyche could well carry, and to add to his 
 discomfort he was terribly thirsty. He had had 
 nothing to drink since he left camp early in the 
 morning, and his great exertions had caused such 
 violent perspiration that his system was depleted of 
 water. At four o'clock he had gone about half a 
 mile, and found himself on a shelf from which there 
 appeared no possible means of farther descent. A 
 lower bench was finally reached, but no water could 
 be found. While searching here for a path another 
 goat was seen feeding on a rocky ridge across a 
 small canon about four hundred yards away. 
 
 Removing his shoes, the naturalist began a stalk, 
 but soon found that he could not get nearer than 
 three hundred yards in that direction, so he crawled 
 back and descended to a lower level. Slipping along 
 
A SUCCESSFUL HUNTER. 181 
 
 the ridge, he reached a spot wliich he supposed would 
 be within easy range of the goat. He peered round 
 the edge of the crag, but the animal had disappeared. 
 The goat, however, came from behind a rock and 
 stood about a hundred j^ards away. He was across 
 a canon, but the naturalist rested the Winchester on 
 a rock and after steady aim fired. The goat plunged 
 head foremost over the cliff into the canon below. 
 Dyche hastened back after his shoes and load of 
 skins, and went after his second prize, which he 
 found at the foot of the precipice. 
 
 The naturalist's thirst was so overpowering that 
 he determined to drink the blood of the goat, but 
 when he cut the animal open the strong musky odour 
 was too much for him, and he gave up the idea. 
 Finding that little progress could be made down the 
 mountains with his load, he now determined to cache 
 his specimens and come back for them next day. A 
 tree was stripped of its branches with the exception 
 of a bunch at the top, and to this he tied the bundle 
 of skins and bones, and to make it even more con- 
 spicuous he tied his camera to the bare portion of the 
 trunk. The descent to the bottom of the mountain 
 was now made, and here he piled up stones to mark 
 the spot, and placed three piles of small stones on a 
 log. It was dark now. 
 
 Fully satisfying himself that he would have no 
 difficulty in finding the place where he had come 
 down the mountain, Dyche now set himself to the task 
 of reaching the river in order that he might quench 
 the almost overpowering thirst. The river was near, 
 but the great masses of stone which had crumbled 
 
182 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 from the mountain presented an almost impassable 
 barrier. At last the edge of the river was reached, 
 but he found another difficulty. Great piles of 
 rocks barred the way, and the steep declivity pre- 
 cluded all possibility of getting down. The sound 
 of the running and babbling water as it dashed over 
 the stones in the river-bed was maddening. Dyche 
 struggled along, over bowlders and under logs, and 
 through bushes which held him back as if leagued 
 with the powers of darkness to restrain him in his 
 efforts. Darkness came on and still he struggled on, 
 fearing all the while that he would fall into some 
 hole in the rocks from which he could never get out. 
 Feeling his way, he finally emerged, but he was 
 worse off than before, for here th'e fallen timber, 
 overgrown with bushes and briers, was so heavy 
 that it made a dense jungle. At times he would 
 run against a great rock that stood higher than 
 his head, and then he would get into a tangle of 
 briers so thick that minutes were spent in getting 
 through. 
 
 His exhaustion was now so great and his thirst so 
 maddening that the naturalist tore his way through 
 the briers and underbrush, unmindful of the cuts and 
 scratches. He was in a frightful condition, and felt 
 that his brain was turning from his tormenting thirst. 
 A patch of "devil's walking-sticks," a shrub whose 
 curved thorns hold all they catch, barred his way, 
 and he felt as if Satan himself had lent a hand to 
 keep him from getting water. At last, however, 
 he reached the river. A log reaching from the 
 bank gave him access to the water, and after wash- 
 
A NIGHT OF HARDSHIPS. 183 
 
 ing his burning face and hands he began the work 
 of quenching his thirst. He drank slowly and finally 
 felt that he had sufficient. But as he started from 
 the water he felt the thirst again and drank again 
 and again. 
 
 Reaching the top of the bank, the naturalist sat 
 down to consider his situation. He had promised 
 himself that when he reached water he would camp 
 for the night, but now he felt so refreshed that he 
 thought he would get to the tent and have a good rest 
 and breakfast before he started again for his speci- 
 mens. By this time he was again very thirsty, and he 
 made another trip to the water before he started up the 
 river. He knew the camp was above him, but just 
 how far he could not tell. An hour or more was 
 spent in getting through the underbrush, and then 
 he was compelled to get another drink. He now deter- 
 mined to make one more effort, and if he failed he 
 would give up for the night. Stumbling along over 
 rocks and poles, he soon found himself in a wilderness 
 of huge logs. It was so dark that he ran into the trees 
 before he was aware of their vicinity. Feeling his 
 way along, stumbling and falling, with bruised and 
 bleeding limbs, he was indeed a pitiable object, but he 
 pushed on and on. Finally he sat on a log and gave 
 up. He dozed and nodded from exhaustion, when 
 suddenly he heard a shot away up the canon. It was 
 evidently the guide making signals to bring him into 
 camp. Giving the answer he now pushed on, won- 
 dering why the shots sounded so far away. Once 
 again the shots were exchanged, and from the sound 
 
 he judged the camp must be fully five miles away. 
 13 
 
184 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 Striking a match, he looked at his watch and found 
 that it was just eleven o'clock. 
 
 His hands and feet were burning and he was so 
 dead tired that when he sat down to rest he would 
 almost instantly drop to sleep, to be awakened by 
 almost falling from his seat. Then he would push 
 on again. The rushing of the water over the bowl- 
 ders, the weird sounds of the forest, the roaring of 
 the fires which raged on the opposite side of the canon 
 combined to make night hideous and still farther de- 
 press him in his terrible condition; but he pushed 
 on, determined to reach camp, now that he knew the 
 direction of it. 
 
 The extreme exhaustion now began to tell most 
 strangely on Dyche's brain. Odd fancies and queer 
 hallucinations flashed through his mind, and thoughts 
 that under ordinary circumstances would have ap- 
 peared foolish now had serious consideration. At 
 last he reached a little opening in the jungle and 
 found himself in a small park. He had just begun 
 to breathe freer, when there arose at his feet some 
 huge animal which made two or three bounds away 
 and then stood stock-still. To say that the naturalist 
 was scared is putting it mildly. He lost entirely 
 the little of his self-control which had remained 
 after the awful experience of the night in the jungle. 
 Tears involuntarily came into his eyes, his blood 
 seemed to stand still, while chills began at his feet 
 and crept all over his body, up and down. Fright- 
 ened? He was so frightened that he felt that he 
 should go insane unless something happened to re- 
 lieve the awful strain. 
 
A NIGHT OF HARDSHIPS. 185 
 
 He threw his gun forwards, of course, at the first 
 movement of the animal, but the strange silence puz- 
 zled him. Not a sound, not a movement was made 
 by the big beast. Dyche thought he would light a 
 match, but gave up the idea for fear he would be at- 
 tacked when the brute saw what a puny thing he was. 
 He moved a few steps forwards, making as much noise 
 as possible, but the animal did not move. Again he 
 advanced, shuffling his feet, and the strange ob- 
 ject moved only a step or two and again stood 
 still. Dyche knew of no animal as large as this 
 which would act in that way, unless it was a grizzly 
 bear which had never seen a man. His next im- 
 pulse was to shout, for he knew that the human voice 
 had a wonderful effect upon wild animals. Acting 
 on this idea he shrieked and shouted, but not a sound 
 came from the place where the strange beast stood. 
 He called his guide, he called all the names he could 
 think of, but not a motion was made. Then he 
 shouted again and called his old horse Charlie. The 
 result was most startling. Old Charlie answered with 
 a whinny from the very spot where the strange beast 
 stood. Another call brought the horse to him, and 
 then Dyche cried from revulsion of feeling. He 
 petted the horse, and then fell to wondering what 
 could have brought him so far from camp. It was the 
 horse that had to be driven away to grass. Know- 
 ing that there must be a trail over which the horse 
 had come, Dyche took hold of his tail and endeavoured 
 to drive him back to the tent. 
 
 Charlie went forwards a few paces and then 
 stopped. Dyche clucked at him and struck him, but 
 
186 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 the old fellow would only wander around in a circle. 
 At last the horse brushed past a pole on which hung 
 a gunny-sack. Dyche remembered noticing this as 
 he came into the canon, and now he began to wonder 
 how far that pole was from camp. He struck Charlie 
 again and made him go forwards. Suddenly there 
 loomed up beside him some big white object which 
 he took for a rock, but on feeling it found that it was 
 the tent. Charlie had not broken his record, but 
 was right in camp. In a few minutes a fire was 
 burning brightly and supper was under way. It 
 was after one o'clock in the morning, and the guide 
 was not there. The shots had evidently been fired 
 far up the canon by the man, who was also lost. 
 He returned to camp next day, having lain out on 
 the mountain all night. 
 
 By half-past two Dyche finished his supper, or 
 breakfast, and bath, and rolled into his sleeping-bag, 
 feeling that "all's well that ends well." But the 
 troubles of the night were not over. Just as he be- 
 gan to doze he felt something run across his bed, and 
 then heard a dragging noise on the floor of the tent. 
 A mountain rat was exploring the place. After 
 standing it as long as h could, the naturalist got up 
 and set a trap for the intruder. He had scarcely 
 got back to bed when the trap snapped and the rat 
 squealed. This noise had to be stopped, so Dyche 
 got up and killed the rat, setting the trap again. 
 The minute he touched the bed another marauder 
 was caught, and then until morning the trap was 
 kept busy and a family of seven rats were killed. 
 When the last one was gone it was broad daylight. 
 
A NATURALIST'S LABOURS. 187 
 
 and not a wink of sleep had Dyche had. For once 
 in his life the episodes of the night were too much 
 for the naturalist's nerves and he could not sleep. 
 He lay for two hours thinking of the specimens away 
 up the mountain which must be brought into camp 
 and taken care of. 
 
 The previous day had been nineteen hours long 
 and had been supplemented by a sleepless night, and 
 Dyche felt little like again climbing the mountain ; 
 but he knew that if he wanted to preserve his goat- 
 skins he must bring them into camp. His feet were 
 bruised, his hands and face scratched and sore from 
 the briers and " devil's walking-sticks," and his whole 
 body ached from the extraordinary exertions of the 
 previous day; but he started after his specimens. 
 Not caring to repeat his experience of thirst, he took 
 a powder-can of water with him. Following down 
 the river over the bowlders and through the thickets, 
 he finally found the piles of stones which marked the 
 spot where he had descended the mountain. 
 
 But something was evidently wrong. Hours were 
 spent searching for the skins, but not a sign of them 
 or the tree which had been so plainly marked could 
 be seen. Up and down he climbed, searching in 
 every direction, and at last, after going away off 
 to one side, he found the place where he had killed 
 the old goat, and then following his trail he found 
 the cached specimens. He then found that in going 
 down the mountain the evening before he had gone 
 over a mile to one side before he reached the bottom 
 of the cliff. It was half-past three in the afternoon 
 when he reached the tree, and it was three hours 
 
188 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 later when he arrived at the foot of the mountain 
 with his load. He dreaded the hard climb over the 
 rocks to camp, but determined to do as much as 
 possible. Leaving the skin of one goat and the skulls 
 hanging to a rock, he started with the skin of the 
 old billy, which weighed thirty-eight pounds, and 
 managed to reach camp after eight o'clock. He was 
 soon asleep, after nearly forty hours of sleeplessness 
 and terrible exertion. 
 
 Next morning Dyche's knees were so sore and stiff 
 that he had to toast them before a hot fire and soak 
 them in vaseline before he could walk. This and the 
 two following days were spent in getting the remain- 
 ing skin and the skeletons into camp and dressing 
 them. These five days were spent in securing two 
 specimens, and as the three last days were in camp, 
 Dyche was well rested and started on the sixth day 
 for the mountains. While travelling down the moun- 
 tain a goat made its appearance about half a mile 
 away on a little flat-topped spur which extended out 
 from the main ridge. The animal was feeding and 
 could have been easily stalked from the main ridge, 
 but the wind was unfavourable, and Dyche concluded 
 to crawl down one canon and up another, under cover 
 of the crag on which the goat stood. Reaching the 
 spot where the animal had been feeding, the natural- 
 ist could see nothing of it. An examination showed 
 where a nanny and a kid had been feeding, and as they 
 were just what Dyche wanted, he proceeded very 
 carefully along the cliff. Hearing the sound of roll- 
 ing stones ahead of him, he hurried forwards and saw 
 an old she-goat with a kid on the other side of the 
 
A NATURALIST'S LABOURS. 189 
 
 canon. With the crack of the ritle the old goat 
 pitched forwards and rolled down the slope, while 
 the kid hid behind some rocks. After waiting fully 
 five minutes for the kid to c<?me out, the hunter 
 changed his position and the little fellow jumped 
 out and started to run. The gun cracked again, 
 and the kid went rolling down to join its mother. 
 It made a sheer fall of fifty feet. The skull was 
 crushed, the jaw broken in several places, the leg 
 and shoulder broken, the skin torn, and worst of all, 
 the horns were broken off and one lost. This almost 
 ruined the specimen, but Dyche spent twenty minutes 
 searching for the horn, and was fortunate enough to 
 find it. The kid was measured, and skinned, and 
 then the search began for the old one. She had lodged 
 on a projecting ledge, and the naturalist was com- 
 pelled to work for some time to dislodge her. He was 
 finally compelled to get a long pole and make a lad- 
 der by which he got down to the goat, and here he 
 was compelled to tie himself to the rock to prevent 
 a fall while he worked over the specimen. Dyche 
 was so worn out that when he reached the foot of 
 the mountain he cached the specimens, and with only 
 a portion of the flesh of the kid he went on to camp. 
 He found, however, that the flesh, even of the kid, 
 was hardly fit to eat, for it was so permeated with 
 the musk of the glands that it was unpalatable. On 
 this trip Dyche was fortunate enough to find a spring 
 of pure water on the range, probably the only one on 
 the mountain, and this was always made the objec- 
 tive point of all trips hereafter. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A Peculiar Danger — Four Goats in Four Shots — A Rapidly- 
 Disappearing Tribe — Description and Habits — A Persist- 
 ent Hunter. 
 
 EANTIME the mountain fires had been 
 steadily increasing and advancing until 
 the camp was threatened, and Dyche be- 
 gan to fear that all his labour would be in 
 if the fire came down the mountain the 
 skins and skeletons would be destroyed. It was with 
 a feeling of great joy that the naturalist awoke next 
 morning and saw the rain pouring down. It was 
 the first of the season in that locality and came in 
 such quantities that the fires were soon checked and 
 then were drowned out entirely, with the exception 
 of smouldering logs here and there. The air cleared, 
 and the thin spiral columns of smoke ascending from 
 various points over the mountain were the only evi- 
 dences of the conflagration that had lately been 
 raging within a few miles of the camp. 
 
 Dyche at once started after his specimens and 
 brought them into camp, putting the skins in a pickle. 
 It continued to rain, and soon the tops of the moun- 
 tains took on a mantle of white ; and as the rain in- 
 creased, the snow-line crept lower and lower, until it 
 reached the green of the timber. Now another dan- 
 
 190 
 
Almost despairing. 
 
A PECULIAR DANGER. 191 
 
 ger menaced the hunters' camp. The peculiar for- 
 mation of the mountain caused great masses of rock 
 to split off, owing to the action of the water, and 
 immense bowlders were continually rolling down into 
 the canon. The stillness of the mountain would sud- 
 denly be broken by an explosion resembling the rattle 
 of musketry, and then a great mass of rocks would 
 lean out from the face of the cliff and topple over, 
 falling, rolling, and tumbling to the bottom and 
 sometimes going as far as the river. These rock 
 slides would crush everything before them, and im- 
 mense trees and bowlders were torn from their foun- 
 dations and hurled with the force of an avalanche 
 to the bottom. 
 
 This was very dangerous, for if such a slide ever 
 struck camp there would be nothing left to tell the 
 tale. One incident convinced the naturalist that he 
 could not get away too soon. It was after mid- 
 night when Dyche was aroused by a peculiar roaring 
 and rumbling noise directly above their heads on 
 the side of the mountain. The two men were out of 
 their sleeping-bags in an instant, and a run of thirty 
 yards placed them behind an immense tree which had 
 previously been selected for just such an emergency. 
 The tree was over five feet in diameter, but even 
 then Dyche feared that it would not withstand the 
 terrible force of the rocks. An immense landslide 
 had broken loose half a mile above the camp and 
 came roaring down with the speed of an express 
 train. It passed a few feet to the south of the 
 camp and expended its force among the bowlders 
 and in the river. Sleep was over for that night, 
 
193 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 for they could not tell how soon another mass might 
 come down, nor did they know until morning that 
 their horses had escaped. 
 
 The continued rain and snow and the falling 
 rocks convinced Dyche that he had better finish his 
 hunt as soon as possible and get away. He had 
 two fine skeletons and four skins, and the natu- 
 ralist would have been satisfied with these alone, for 
 he had as many as were possessed by all the museums 
 of the world ; but he felt that he ought to try once 
 more to get specimens while he was so near the 
 fountain-head. Next morning he went over the 
 ground traversed during the first hunt. It had 
 ceased raining and everything was covered with 
 snow. The naturalist wandered along, feeling re- 
 paid for his trouble in the beauty of the mountain- 
 tops after the snow-storm. But his meditations on 
 nature were soon diverted. At his feet he saw a 
 goat-track plain and fresh in the snow, and this 
 he followed over the rocks until it seemed to be 
 directed towards a bold crag which jutted out from 
 the side of the mountain. 
 
 The tracks led directly to the jutting crag, and 
 when that was reached Dyche was amazed to find 
 that the animals had gone around the cliff on a ledge 
 which a dog would have been unable to traverse. 
 The little shelf was but a few inches wide. On 
 one side was a sheer descent of hundreds of feet, 
 while the perpendicular wall rose to the clouds on 
 the other. The appearance of the place was such 
 that it seemed possible only for an animal with 
 wings to go around it, yet those goats had gone 
 
FOUR GOATS IN FOUR SHOTS. 193 
 
 over the ledge as calmly as if it were their usual 
 route. The naturalist found that he must retrace his 
 steps and ascend to a higher ledge before he could 
 work around the crag. Having done this, he was 
 moving slowly along the side of the mountain, keep- 
 ing good watch over the country, when he saw four 
 goats on the opposite side of the canon. 
 
 The goats were over half a mile away, and were 
 evidently those which he had followed to the crag. 
 They were not as watchful as the sheep which he had 
 hunted, for they fed along with heads down. An 
 hour's stalk took the hunter to the spot where the 
 goats had last been seen, but they were gone. Fear- 
 ful that they had taken the alarm, Dyche walked 
 carefully along the ridge. Looking over into a 
 little draw, he saw them all feeding in a grassy spot 
 on the opposite side of a deep canon. Another hour's 
 hard work brought the naturalist near the game. 
 The animals were now in plain sight, not over two 
 hundred yards away. Skulking and crawling the 
 hunter reached a log, and behind this he lay and 
 watched the goats. 
 
 His first impulse was to shoot, for they were 
 within easy range, but a moment's reflection showed 
 him that they were feeding towards him. They 
 moved slowly, feeding part of the time and then 
 moving about aimlessly, but all the while coming 
 nearer and nearer. At last they were within a 
 hundred yards and in a comparatively clear place. 
 Carefully examining his gun to see that it was in 
 good order and that the sights were in place, Dyche 
 prepared for the shot. He examined the ground 
 
194 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 and decided on the place to which he would jump 
 when he fired the first shot. Training the gun on a 
 low shoulder-spot on the first goat, he fired and then 
 jumped to his feet. The other three animals were 
 going at full speed towards the timber. A yearling 
 ran along a log and received a shot as it turned its 
 side to the hunter. It rolled from the log, and a shot 
 was sent after the hindmost of the other two, which 
 immediately sank down. The old nanny was over 
 two hundred yards away by this time and was nearing 
 the top of the ridge, but as the gun cracked she tot- 
 tered and fell. Four goats now lay dead in a straight 
 line up the hill, killed with four shots. Dyche could 
 not restrain his enthusiasm, and bounded up the hill 
 while the mountains echoed with his shouts. 
 
 An examination showed that four more fortunate 
 shots could not have been made. The first went 
 through the shoulder, the second through the liver, 
 the third went high, striking in the hip and ranging 
 forwards under the ear, while the fourth also went 
 high, through the shoulder and ranged forwards. It 
 was now half -past three, and by hard work the entire 
 load of skins was taken to camp by half-past eight. 
 After supper was over and his shins and knees were 
 well rubbed with vaseline, the naturalist sat up until 
 midnight dressing the skins. Next day, while going 
 for the bones, a fine mule buck was killed, which sup- 
 plied the camp with meat. Three or four days were 
 spent in getting the specimens to camp and in caring 
 for the skins and bones properly, and then another 
 hunt was taken over the grounds, which were now 
 becoming familiar to the hunter. 
 
RAPIDLY DISAPPEARING TRIBE. 195 
 
 An early start placed Dyche on the top of the moun- 
 tain by nine o'clock, and a magnificent spectacle was 
 presented to his view. The heavy snow extended 
 down in irregular tongues of white to the velvety 
 green of the trees below. Lower down the frost- 
 touched quaking asps gave a glorious colouring to 
 the scene with their leaves of green and gold, just in 
 front of the sombre background of burnt forest on 
 the opposite slope of the mountain. The clouds had 
 passed away and the sun shone with unwonted brill- 
 iancy, while the pure and invigourating air gave 
 life to everything. This was the home of the Rocky 
 Mountain goat. Here he lives, away from all other 
 animated nature, and here he should roam for 
 ages to come. He has chosen for his home the land 
 where rugged crags and peaks stand as an almost in- 
 surmountable barrier against other animals and even 
 man is kept aloof. The sparse grass and such shoots 
 as he feeds on are out of reach of other ruminant ani- 
 mals, while the bleak and dreary mountains offer no 
 enticement to the carnivora. He is harmless and is al- 
 most worthless as far as food is concerned ; his skin is 
 so tender that it is valueless for commercial purposes. 
 All these facts being taken into consideration, the 
 natural supposition would be that the Rocky Moun- 
 tain goat would increase and become common on all 
 the high and bleak mountains. But such does not 
 seem to be the case. 
 
 The goat, at one time, is said to have roamed the 
 high mountain-tops of the Rockies and Cascades 
 from Northern Colorado to Alaska, but now he is 
 found only in the most inaccessible places of the far 
 
196 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 northern mountains. This range never exceeded 
 four hundred miles in width, and it is doubtful if 
 the southern limit ever reached Northern Colorado. 
 Hunters tell of the goats which they have seen in 
 Northern Colorado, but it is probable that they have 
 mistaken bands of female sheep for goats, which 
 they greatly resemble at certain seasons of the year. 
 It is certain that the animal abounds in parts of 
 British Columbia, but its capture is attended with so 
 much hardship that it is rarely sought for except by 
 those naturalists who are something more than room- 
 workers. The goat will be found for years by those 
 who are hardy enough to search for him, but there 
 will be few killed. 
 
 It was while such thoughts as these were passing 
 through the mind of Dyche that he saw a goat walk- 
 ing on a ridge about half a mile away. The animal 
 went to the point of a stony crag, from which it 
 viewed the country for ten or fifteen minutes. It 
 was so far away and the country was so rough be- 
 tween him and the animal that the naturalist was 
 in some doubt as to the best mode of procedure. The 
 goat solved the question by descending into one of 
 the stony canons, and as soon as it disappeared from 
 view Dyche began to stalk it. The goat came out 
 on another crag and looked around. It appeared 
 uneasy, and the hunter feared that it had winded 
 him. From this crag the goat descended to a still 
 lower one, and thence on down, until at last it ap- 
 peared at a distance of about three hundred yards. 
 
 Turning to the right the goat began ascending a 
 ridge, and calculating that its next appearance 
 
DESCRIPTION AND HABITS. 197 
 
 would be on a certain stony crag, Dyche ran towards 
 this at full speed, dropping down behind a clump of 
 spruce trees just as he thought the animal would 
 come out. He waited about two minutes, and the 
 goat walked out on a ledge opposite to the natural- 
 ist. The goat made a beautiful picture with his 
 almost white body outlined against the gray granite 
 of the mountain, not over one hundred and twenty- 
 five yards away. He was across a canon, which 
 was always an objection with Dyche ; but a steady 
 rest across a rock gave a good aim, and the ball sped 
 to the white spot on the animal's breast. 
 
 The goat staggered forwards and tumbled over the 
 cliff, rolling to the bottom of the precipice, out of 
 sight. Hastening down, the naturalist found a fine 
 specimen. It was not so large as the first one killed, 
 but it was in much better condition as to hair and 
 colour. It was the whitest male that he had killed. 
 The colour of the goats is usually described as white, 
 but the hair has a yellowish tinge. Many of them 
 have a very dirty appearance, for the long hair is filled 
 with spruce needles, cone scales, dirt, and even little 
 stones, which they accumulate as they rub in the 
 dirt. Young kids have a streak of brown hair 
 running down the back and brown hairs scattered 
 all over the body. Yearlings show some of these 
 brown hairs, but as the animal grows older they al- 
 most entirely disappear. A thick coat of under hair, 
 or wool, is always present. In August the skins 
 show a splendid short growth of this, as then the 
 long hair is thin, most of it having been shed. The 
 long, coarse hair of the goat gives to it the ap- 
 
198 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 pearance of a small albino buffalo, except that the 
 buffalo has long hair on the fore-legs and shoulders 
 only, while that of the goat is long all over the body 
 with the exception of the lower parts of the legs and 
 upper part of the face. 
 
 The horns of this specimen were finely shaped and 
 without blemish. All goats have horns, those of the 
 old males reaching six inches in circumference, while 
 those of the females are but slightly smaller. The 
 horns stand well up, curving backwards and slightly 
 outwards. Behind them are the musk-glands, which 
 on the old males stand up two inches and are so 
 strongly impregnated with musk that they taint the 
 whole body, making the flesh unfit for food. Near 
 the horn these glands are bare and scaly, but away 
 from this part they are' covered with hair. When 
 cut open they show a pink colour and give out a 
 strong musky odour. 
 
 The goat's nose is covered with short hair to the 
 tip, with the exception of a narrow median streak 
 between the nostrils. The eyes are straw colour in 
 the living animal, but turn to a dark chestnut a short 
 time after death. Under the throat the coarse hair 
 hangs in a beard similar to that of the common goat. 
 The hair on the legs is long, as well as that on the 
 hump between the shoulders. This hump is one of 
 the peculiarities which has long puzzled naturalists 
 who have not taken the trouble to see the animal in 
 his native haunts. It is simply a lengthening of the 
 spinous processes of the dorsal vertebrae. The tail is 
 very short and the ears small and pointed. The lat- 
 ter are evidently of little use to the animal so far as 
 
A PERSISTENT HUNTER. 199 
 
 hearing is concerned, for in every goat that was killed 
 on this trip the ears were so filled with ticks that the 
 insects formed a compact plug which it was necessary 
 to force out with a hard stick when cleaning the skins. 
 The feet are almost square and the outside rim of 
 the hoof is sharp, making a/knife-edge which enables 
 the animal to grasp any crack or opening and thus 
 obtain a firm foot-hold. 
 
 The most common error of naturalists who have 
 never seen either a living or dead Rocky Mountain 
 goat is in regard to the position of the head. In nearly 
 all the cuts of the animal in books or magazines the 
 head is raised above the line of the shoulder. The 
 anatomical structure of the animal clearly precludes 
 this. The neck is short and set so low down that the 
 head cannot be raised above a line even with the top 
 of the shoulder. Taken as a whole, the proportions 
 of the goat are similar to those of an American bison, 
 or buffalo, on a small scale. 
 
 The specimen was skinned and the skeleton laid 
 bare, and then the naturalist attempted to carry the 
 whole load of skin and bones to camp. The load was a 
 heavy, awkward bundle, but he made his way along, 
 and by four o'clock in the afternoon reached a point 
 on the mountain above the camp. He was tempted to 
 leave his burden here and return for it next day, but 
 the thought that it meant a whole day lost caused him 
 to stagger on, and he finally reached camp long after 
 dark. He found that there was not much in a load 
 of bones and skins to arouse any but a scientific en- 
 thusiasm, and he spent several hours after supper in 
 
 dressing the skins and rubbing his legs with vase- 
 14 
 
200 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 line. Next day was Saturday, and he remained in 
 camp looking after the specimens and fighting mag- 
 pies. 
 
 Provisions were now very short, and the place was 
 becoming more dangerous with each succeeding 
 day. The guide was eager to hurry away, but 
 Dyche could not leave until he secured more spec- 
 imens. Several days were spent on the mountains 
 without success, and the naturalist was almost ready 
 to listen to the advice of his companion. One morn- 
 ing after several hours' fruitless hunting Dyche was 
 crawling carefully along a ridge, when he saw a 
 goat lying down on the point of a ledge. When 
 within seventy-five yards a shot was sent after the 
 animal, which staggered to its feet and then pitched 
 forwards and rolled over the rocks down the moun- 
 tain. The hunter hurried to the spot, but could find 
 no trace of his prize. After searching for some time 
 he at last descried the dead animal lodged on a little 
 shelf about a hundred yards below the spot where 
 he had shot it. For two hours he tried in vain 
 to get to the animal, but he was finally compelled to 
 give it up. It was a great loss, as it was a fine young 
 male and was needed to complete the series. 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon another goat was 
 seen. He was standing on a crag above the hunter, 
 looking down. Like all goats, it did not appear to 
 apprehend danger from above. A shot through the 
 shoulders sent the animal to earth, and it was after 
 dark when Dyche reached camp with the skin and 
 skeleton. 
 
 Next day while hunting along the mountain a bear- 
 
A PERSISTENT HUNTER. 201 
 
 trail was seen and Dyche started to follow it. The 
 bear had picked out a good trail and travelling was 
 easy. While hurrying along the hunter caught sight 
 of a goat standing on a crag above him. It was ap- 
 parently looking directly at him, and Dyche feared 
 that he had been seen. Working his way out of 
 sight he tried to get above the goat. He climbed to 
 within a few hundred yards of the top of the moun- 
 tain and there found that farther progress was effect- 
 ually barred. Retracing his steps, he finally found 
 a way up and reached the top. With feet and legs 
 soaking wet from the damp snow, he found him- 
 self on the crag where the goat had been stand- 
 ing, but the animal was nowhere in sight. The 
 naturalist sat down to rest and eat his lunch, and 
 while doing this he noticed the goat standing on 
 the point of a crag below him. Working care- 
 fully, he began to descend. A point about two 
 hundred yards above the animal was reached, and 
 then a careful stalk was begun to get closer, for the 
 snow was falling too heavily to risk a shot at that 
 distance. Crawling down to within one hundred 
 and twenty-five yards, a shot was directed down at 
 a point between the goat's shoulders. It did not 
 move, and Dyche feared that his shot had been a 
 clean miss. Hastily slipping another cartridge in 
 the barrel, he was just about to fire when he 
 noticed a red stream running down the shoulder. 
 The animal began staggering, and fearing that 
 it would pitch forwards over the cliff, the hunter 
 sent another shot at it, trying to break its back, so 
 that it would sink in its tracks. This effort, how- 
 
203 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 ever, was a failure, for the goat pitched heavily for- 
 wards and rolled down the mountain. Making his 
 way down, the naturalist found that he had killed 
 a large dry ewe, one of the finest specimens that he 
 had obtained. It was in perfect condition and was 
 fully as large as an ordinary male. 
 
 Two more days were spent in the mountains in 
 unsuccessful hunting. The horses were running 
 down in flesh so rapidly and provisions were so low 
 that the necessity of leaving became at last deeply 
 impressed on the mind of the naturalist, and arrange- 
 ments were made to start. But Dyche was deter- 
 mined to have one more hunt. He started before 
 daylight for the mountains, in a heavy snow-storm. 
 Finding a bear-trail, he followed this some distance, 
 when it was crossed by a goat-track. Experience 
 had long since taught him the futility of follow- 
 ing a bear-track, so he turned his attention to that 
 of the goat. He followed it for about half a mile, 
 when the animal was seen going down a ridge. The 
 goat saw the hunter at about the same time and 
 started at full speed over the rocks. Dyche followed 
 the trail in the snow, hiding as much as possible, 
 and at last saw the animal standing on a project- 
 ing point, looking back. After long and circuitous 
 stalking it was found that the goat had hurried on 
 up the mountain. The track was again followed 
 until it entered a piece of timber. Here another 
 circuit was made and tracks of bears, wolverines, 
 and Ijmxes were seen, but the goat had not left the 
 woods. Dyche began circling around the mountain, 
 watching carefully. "While creeping along in the 
 
A PERSISTENT HUNTER. 203 
 
 timber the hunter caught a glimpse of his quarry- 
 just as it was disappearing among the trees. 
 A quick shot was sent after it and then it was lost 
 to view. Hastening to the spot, he found the 
 tracks and soon saw spots of blood. Following 
 these about three hundred yards he came upon 'the 
 animal, lying down. Its expression was any- 
 thing but mild, and to avoid accidents the hunter 
 sent another ball into it, killing it instantly. It 
 was a fine two-year-old male and was just what 
 was needed to complete the collection. It was now 
 raining hard, and after two hours spent in taking 
 notes and measurements and skinning the animal, 
 Dyche threw the skin across his shoulders as a pro- 
 tection from the rain and started for camp. It was 
 almost dark and the distance was long, but the hunters 
 were to move the next day and it would not do to leave 
 the specimen on the mountain. He staggered along 
 and finally reached camp with his precious load. 
 His knees were in a fearful condition, but he rubbed 
 them until they felt better, and then spent several 
 hours preparing his specimens for packing. 
 
 The horses had had a long rest, but were in bad 
 condition from lack of proper food, and it was a hard 
 trip over the mountains to Thorp's ranch, which was 
 finally reached with as fine a lot of specimens as was 
 ever carried out of the country. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 On Kettle River — Two Model Camp Companions — A Royal 
 Deer — Eating Beaver Tails — A Tramp over the Moun- 
 tains — Wolves about the Cabin — Varieties of Deer. 
 
 IHREE days were spent at Thorp's ranch, 
 recuperating from the hardships of the 
 goat-hunt. Specimens were stored and 
 packed, and then arrangements were 
 made with Maurice Farrell and George McLaughlin 
 for a second trip up Kettle River. These men were 
 old mountaineers and knew every foot of the country 
 for many miles around. They were sure they could 
 take Dyche to where he could find caribou. They had 
 spent the previous winter at the cabin mentioned in 
 a former chapter, which they had built, and they had 
 brought out with them in the spring over a thousand 
 dollars' worth of furs. They had frequently seen 
 caribou near the cabin, and Indians had told them 
 that they were abundant on the mountains above. 
 
 These stories made Dyche believe that he could 
 accomplish the entire object of his trip to this country. 
 The start was made with a string of a dozen pack- 
 horses. McLaughlin's readiness in finding a trail 
 through the mountains and forests had earned for 
 him the title of Pathfinder, while Farrell was con- 
 sidered the best campman in the whole country, 
 
 204 
 
Off for a long tramp. 
 
TWO MODEL CAMP COMPANIONS. 205 
 
 his especial forte being the preparation of a meal. 
 He demonstrated on this trip that he fully under- 
 stood the art of camp-cooking. Pancakes were 
 his specialty, and these were cooked in a style 
 that would put many famous chefs to shame. 
 With a frying-pan in each hand, he would keep them 
 turning and twisting with a simple movement of the 
 wrist until the cake would turn over with a precision 
 that caused each part to be perfectly cooked. Nor 
 was anything else neglected while this was being 
 done, for the trout or venison steak was cooked to a 
 turn, and the coffee and biscuits were never known 
 to be amiss. 
 
 The first camp was made at Wannacut Lake, and 
 while the Pathfinder and the naturalist unpacked the 
 horses and arranged the camp, Farrell prepared sup- 
 per, the first regular meal of the expedition. Fried 
 ham, boiled potatoes, fruit, pancakes, and coffee were 
 soon ready, and the signal which was always used on 
 this trip was given ; 
 
 "Square yourselves for action, boys." 
 
 They " squared themselves, " and the principal com- 
 ment was that they wanted more. The alkali water 
 of the lake so embittered the coffee and pancakes that 
 it was hard to swallow them, but they managed to 
 make a good meal. The village of Wannacut was 
 about a mile from camp, and after supper Farrell 
 went there with a bucket for water with which to 
 cook breakfast. 
 
 The horses had a good supplj^ of water and grass at 
 Rock Creek, and next day at two o'clock in the after- 
 noon Kettle River was reached. Here Farrell and 
 
206 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 Dyche left the outfit and went to a Chinese settle- 
 ment and purchased eighty pounds of "spuds," or 
 potatoes. These were placed in two bags which they 
 carried in front of them on the saddles, and then it 
 took all the rest of the day to catch up with the Path- 
 finder, who had gone ahead with the train. On the 
 way " Kettle River Armstrong" was met, a ranch- 
 man who devoted his attention to raising horses on 
 a ranch on the middle fork of the river. Armstrong 
 said that caribou were thick about his ranch. He 
 had seen where four had passed by a few days be- 
 fore. He tried to induce the hunters to go to his 
 ranch, but they decided to follow their original plans. 
 Their route lay into the wilderness described in a 
 previous chapter, and at the forks of the river 
 McLaughlin had made camp and was awaiting them. 
 
 A heavy rain fell next day as they prepared to 
 start, but no one seemed to think any the worse of 
 the weather, and jokes were flying thick and fast as 
 the trail was taken. A deer became too curious and 
 his venison swelled the larder. Camp was made 
 that evening in the forest, and while Dyche and 
 McLaughlin were attending to the horses, Farrell 
 was preparing a supper fit for the gods. Farrell 
 compelled the others to strictly observe one thing, and 
 that was that they should not come "putterin' 
 around the fire. " They willingly acceded to this de- 
 mand, and only when the cry of " Square yourselves 
 for action" was given did they venture near. 
 
 Another day of travel took them to the cabin, and 
 here the two men were at home. Sitting around the 
 fire they related enough of their experiences to fill 
 
TWO MODEL CAMP COMPANIONS. 307 
 
 scores of books of adventure and hunting. They 
 told how they had secured thousands of dollars' worth 
 * of furs with their traps and guns, how fifty beaver 
 and numerous wolverines, lynxes, otters, fishers, mar- 
 tens, wolves, and other animals which came their way 
 had been captured. They told of the gaunt, black 
 timber-wolves which roamed in great bands through 
 the trackless forests and destroyed many deer ; how it 
 was almost impossible to trap or poison them, for 
 they were too shrewd to eat poisoned meat or go 
 near a trap ; how a pack of the big hungry brutes 
 would kill and eat a deer and leave no vestige of it 
 except a few scattered hairs on the snow. The very 
 bones would be crunched and swallowed by the rav- 
 enous beasts. 
 
 McLaughlin showed where he had stood and seen 
 a fine buck dash from the forest and run directly 
 towards him, its tongue hanging out as it panted 
 from the great exertion. The presence of man did 
 not frighten it, for it was fleeing from a more deadly 
 enemy. As it passed on a pack of howling wolves 
 burst from the woods on its trail, and it was not un- 
 til three of them fell before the balls from the trap- 
 per's Winchester that the ferocious brutes turned 
 back into the depths of the forest. 
 
 McLaughlin told of that mysterious animal, the 
 wolverine, which the Indians have so aptly named 
 the " mountain devil ; " how the trap must be fast- 
 ened to swinging poles or the animal will carry 
 it away. Even when the trap is chained to a pole the 
 wolverine sometimes climbs the chain and gnaws 
 the pole through, carrying off the whole load. One 
 
208 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 got away with a small trap, and two weeks later 
 his fresh trail was seen in the snow and the trap was 
 still dragging behind him. Another carried off 
 a larger trap a few days later, and then the Path- 
 finder concluded it was time to do something to pre- 
 vent the wolverines from " setting a line of traps," 
 and he took a pair of blankets and two days' provis- 
 ions and started on the trail. He travelled fifty or 
 sixty miles, but failed to catch the robber. 
 
 Two days were spent at the old cabin, and Dyche 
 was well pleased with the energy displayed by his 
 new companions. McLaughlin went four or five 
 miles up the river hunting for a new camping-place, 
 and seeing a fine mule buck standing in a suitable 
 place he killed it, "just to mark the spot." It was 
 snowing heavily next morning when he and Dyche 
 started out to see what was in the country. The 
 trappers had told the naturalist of a big buck which 
 they had seen here several times, but the animal 
 was so wary that they had never been able to get 
 within gunshot of it. Their description made him a 
 veritable giant. The dense woods had great fasci- 
 nation for the naturalist, for here he felt that he might 
 find new animals at almost any moment. In three 
 hours he reached the top of the mountain and there 
 found numerous tracks of bears, wolverines, fishers, 
 and deer. Many deer were to be seen standing about 
 in the woods, and now and then they would move 
 away with long, graceful strides for a few hundred 
 yards, and then stand and gaze at the intruder with 
 a " wonder what you are? " stare. 
 
 As the hunter approached the edge of the woods he 
 
A ROYAL DEER. 209 
 
 saw about a dozen deer standing on a ridge. When 
 they moved away Dyche caught sight of an enor- 
 mous buck which led the band. He stood a full head 
 and shoulders above the rest, and at once the natu- 
 ralist thought of the big buck of which McLaughlin 
 had spoken. Attempting a stalk, he soon found that 
 the animals were too wary. He did not like to be 
 outwitted, and started back on his trail until he was 
 well out of sight, when he began a wide detour in 
 order to get ahead of the band. After travelling 
 over a mile he reached a spot where he thought 
 he was ahead of the deer. While moving quietly 
 through the woods he caught a glimpse of a band of 
 deer in front of him. As they were looking directly 
 at him he stopped. Just then the big buck came 
 stepping proudly from the timber, gazing in the di- 
 rection of the hunter. As he stood with head erect 
 he made a magnificent picture, but the naturalist lost 
 no time looking at it. He sent a bullet through the 
 animal's breast and it dropped at the crack of the gun. 
 This was a fine specimen, the largest deer that 
 Dyche had ever seen. There was not an ounce of 
 fat on him. If he had been in the condition that 
 he undoubtedly was earlier in the year he would have 
 appeared as large as an elk. The measurements were 
 taken carefully and they were something wonderful 
 for a deer. His standing height was forty-four 
 inches from the top of his back to the flat of his hoof. 
 The circumference of the body behind the forelegs 
 was fifty-one inches ; that of the abdomen was fifty- 
 five inches. The skin, skull, and leg bones weighed 
 forty pounds, and the naturalist carried the load four 
 
310 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 or five miles to camp, only to receive the severe cen- 
 sure of Farrell for making a pack-horse of himself 
 when there were so many " cayuses " standing around. 
 
 McLaughlin was out three days, and when he re- 
 turned he reported a few signs of caribou. One or 
 two of them had been feeding on the bunches of 
 black moss which hung from the trees at a place 
 about ten miles from camp. The trail was taken in 
 that direction, and after a hard day's travel a little 
 meadow was reached during a driving snow-storm. 
 Camp was made under difficulties, and it was some 
 time before a big log fire made the hunters com- 
 fortable. "With a bright fire, hot supper, and many 
 good stories, they were soon laughing and joking as 
 if there was no such thing as a snow-storm. As the 
 night deepened a pack of timber- wolves made their ap- 
 pearance and serenaded the new-comers. In the deep 
 stillness of the forest these weird howls brought many 
 tales of danger to the minds of the campers, but they 
 were not of a mould to be scared at snarling wolves 
 and all were soon fast asleep. 
 
 Several days were now spent in exploring the coun- 
 try, which was found to be an immense jungle, and 
 then Dyche and Farrell made an effort to reach the 
 mountains on the east. From this place could be 
 seen a great wilderness of trees, but off to the north- 
 east appeared the shimmering water of several lakes. 
 The bald mountain to which Dyche had travelled on 
 foot several weeks before reared its snow-covered 
 head above all the others. After long consultation 
 that night Farrell and McLaughlin determined to 
 cross the range and go down the middle fork of the 
 
EATING BEAVER TAILS. 211 
 
 river to a point about fifty miles above Armstrong's 
 ranch. The party at once set about to find a way 
 out of the cafion, and after a whole day's chopping a 
 path was cleared. Meanwhile Farrell had set a lot 
 of beaver-traps and caught two fine animals. The 
 tails and hams, cooked with beans and pork stew, 
 made a most palatable dish for the hungry hunters. 
 The tail was considered a great luxury. 
 
 The trip over the range next day was enlivened by 
 Dyche's horse, Chief, which suddenly ran away 
 and bucked off the pack of cooking utensils. The 
 outfit was scattered over the mountain and Farrell 
 took the affair as an especial insult to himself. After 
 indulging in very strong mountain language about 
 the horse, he offered to present the naturalist with a 
 good one if he would give the runaway a ball from his 
 Winchester. Hard work was the rule next day, and 
 evening found them still on the side of the mountain. 
 McLaughlin's great exertion with the axe and his 
 abstinence from food during the day now had a 
 bad effect, and he was suddenly attacked by cramps 
 and he rolled on the ground groaning in pain. Dyche 
 and Farrell ministered to his trouble as best they 
 could, and by dint of rubbing at last succeeded in re- 
 lieving him so that he felt able to travel. Before 
 grass and water was reached, however, the cramps 
 returned with increased severity and they were com- 
 pelled to camp in the big woods. A fire was made 
 and the sick man rolled up in a bundle of blankets 
 and warmed, but he suffered intensely, and it was 
 only after long and vigorous rubbing that he became 
 easier. Farrell found that they were within two hun- 
 
213 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 dred yards of the river and water was soon secured 
 for camp use. 
 
 Next morning the Pathfinder crawled out and went 
 to work despite the advice of his companions. They 
 were now in a magnificent forest. Trees as straight 
 as the masts of a ship rose from one hundred to two 
 hundred feet in the air, with tops so matted together 
 that it was almost impossible to see daylight through 
 them. It was decided to go up the river, but six 
 miles' travelling in this direction convinced them that 
 they could do nothing there and they retraced their 
 steps. There was little sign of large game. A pe- 
 culiar willowy bush grew from the ground to a height 
 of three or four feet and then the tops bent over and 
 again took root, making an almost impassable un- 
 derbrush. 
 
 Armstrong's horse ranch was the next objective 
 point. On the second evening Farrell went out to 
 get some fresh meat. Soon a shot was heard. 
 
 "That means fresh meat for supper," said Mc- 
 Laughlin. 
 
 As he spoke another and then a third shot rang 
 out. 
 
 " I'm not so sure of it now," was the comment. 
 
 Then followed several shots in quick succession. 
 
 " That much shooting means nothing, or maybe a 
 fawn," was the remark. That he well understood 
 his partner was shown when Farrell came into camp 
 a short time after carrying a fawn across his shoul- 
 ders. The joke was on Farrell, but next morning 
 he went out and found two bucks that he had killed 
 the night before. 
 
TRAMP OVER THE MOUNTAINS, 2iB 
 
 Next day Armstrong's ranch was reached in a 
 blinding snow-storm. An abundance of grass gave 
 the horses good food and they were turned loose 
 to shift for themselves. The first day was spent in 
 building a tent made of poles and spruce boughs, 
 called in that country a rancheree. A few days were 
 now spent in prospecting in every direction. Many 
 deer were seen daily near the rancheree, but there 
 were no signs of caribou. Each night Armstrong 
 came over from his ranch, about a hundred yards 
 away, and the mountaineers told stories of their life 
 while Dyche cleaned and prepared his specimens. 
 
 The Pathfinder now began to show great signs of 
 uneasiness . He had been told that there was plenty of 
 big game in these woods, including caribou, but he" 
 had so far failed to find anything but a number of 
 deer, which were too common to shoot. He felt that 
 something must be done, and one evening, after sit- 
 ting brooding awhile over the fire, he stretched him- 
 self, yawned, and then said : 
 
 " I'm going to find caribou or be satisfied there's 
 none in the country. To-morrow I'll leave you for 
 that big mountain over there, and I'll see what's be- 
 come of all the animals of this neck of the woods." 
 
 " How will you go?" asked Dyche, who at once be- 
 came interested in the new turn which things were 
 taking. 
 
 " Walk," was the laconic answer. 
 
 "I'm with you." So it was settled that a long 
 tramp of thirty or forty miles should be taken over 
 the snow-covered mountains, and preparations were 
 at once begun. Two pair of blankets with pro- 
 
214 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 visions sufficient to make a load of about forty 
 pounds were put into a pack for each, and the start 
 was made early next morning. Finally the moun- 
 tain-side was reached and the long and steady pull 
 began. A small frying-pan and a coffee-pot hung 
 to the packs, and at noon a halt was made to get a 
 cup of tea and something to eat. At half -past three 
 the Pathfinder called out : 
 
 " Here's the place for us. We'll camp." 
 
 Three huge dead trees had fallen across each other 
 beside a broken stump about twenty feet high. The 
 ground was cleared of snow and fires were started 
 to dry the earth. Soon the hunters were enjoy- 
 ing a supper of venison steaks, biscuit, and coffee. 
 At eight o'clock both were asleep, and by four 
 next morning they were again on their way up 
 the mountain. Two more days of travelling through 
 the dense underbrush, with snow eighteen inches 
 deep, took them to timber-line, and the bald top of 
 the mountain rose before them. The snow was badly 
 drifted and it was very cold away from shelter. A 
 circuit to the north was taken towards Kettle River, 
 but no signs of caribou were to be seen. 
 
 Their curiosity was fully satisfied, and, as they 
 were fifty miles from the home camp, they began to 
 plan their return. They readily saw that even if they 
 found game there would be no way of getting it 
 out of the country, for the horses could never be 
 brought up the mountain. It was now the middle 
 of November, and another foot or two of snow was 
 likely to fall any night. 
 
 Next day a difficult piece of country was entered, 
 
TRAMP OVER THE MOUNTAINS. 215 
 
 and the travelling over fallen timber and rocks and 
 through deep gulches was very hard. Two grouse 
 furnished supper for the hunters and this was all the 
 meat they had. They were now well down the moun- 
 tain, and just as they were preparing to go into 
 camp they saw an immense bear-track. The ani- 
 mal had passed along but a short time before. The 
 track was fully nine inches wide in the soft snow. As 
 he walked he had swung his claws out to one side, 
 and the marks left in the snow were enormous. This 
 bear was just what Dyche was needing, and the en- 
 thusiasm of both the hunters was aroused. 
 
 " That old fellow will not go far in this weather. 
 He's just out for an evening's walk. I'll bet we'll 
 find him within two miles of camp in the morning," 
 said the Pathfinder. 
 
 " Well, I'm going to follow him to the jum ping- 
 off place or get him. He's just the one I need for 
 my collection," replied Dyche. 
 
 " Oh, we'll get him sure enough . Don't you worry, " 
 was McLaughlin's encouraging answer. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do," said the naturalist. 
 " I'U give you a clean fifty-dollar bill extra if we get 
 that bear." 
 
 While McLaughlin was eager enough to go after 
 bear, or anything else that Dyche wanted, without the 
 offer of extra pay, this inducement filled him with a 
 desire to slay the bear at once. The two hunters 
 spent the night dreaming of big bears, but their 
 hopes were sadly dashed when they saw a heavy 
 fall of snow that had come down during the night, 
 completely obliterating every vestige of the bear- 
 15 
 
216 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 track. They were almost inconsolable, and after tak- 
 ing a big circuit in order to see if the old fellow had 
 been moving that morning, they were compelled to 
 return and reluctantly take up the trail for the ranch- 
 eree. They reached the river about five miles above 
 the home camp, and as it was too wide for a foot-log 
 they searched for a place for a ford. Reaching a point 
 where the river widened to about two hundred yards, 
 McLaughlin said it was shallow enough to wade 
 and they entered the water. 
 
 As the Pathfinder plunged into the stream he gave 
 an involuntary " whoop !" for it was like ice. The 
 cold almost paralysed the muscles of their legs. 
 McLaughlin went ahead and Dyche followed close 
 behind, pounding and pushing the ice out of the 
 way, while their teeth chattered. Just as he 
 reached the middle of the stream McLaughlin sud- 
 denly stopped and began making such strange signs 
 that Dyche's heart almost stood still with fear, 
 for he thought that the Pathfinder had been at- 
 tacked with another case of cramps. If this was the 
 case then it meant death, for there was no possible 
 way of relieving him there. These fears, happily, 
 were groundless. Mac's queer actions were caused 
 by an effort to straighten his pack, which had slipped. 
 
 The shore was finally reached, and then it took 
 them half an hour to rub vitality back into their half- 
 frozen legs. When this was done they hastened down 
 the stream to the home camp five miles away. As 
 they hurried along they saw a buck standing in the 
 edge of the woods and both fired at him, bringing him 
 to the ground. He was almost as large as the big 
 
WOLVES ABOUT THE CABIN. 217 
 
 fellow which the naturalist had killed when he first 
 came into the country. 
 
 The rancheree was reached just at dusk, and Far- 
 rell soon had a smoking supper ready, which drove 
 from their minds the hardships of the trip. A week 
 was now spent in gathering large and small animals, 
 Dyche dressing and preparing the skins and skele- 
 tons supplied by the two mountaineers. Twenty- 
 one choice specimens of deer were added to the collec- 
 tion. Armstrong took all the extra meat, storing it 
 away for use in the spring, when venison would be 
 in bad condition. 
 
 The woods abounded in the large timber-wolves, 
 which roamed about at night and remained well 
 hidden during the day. Every night they could be 
 heard howling just outside the tent, and they chased 
 Armstrong's dogs to his very door and attempted to 
 reach them under the shelter of the sheds. Poisoned 
 meat and traps had no terror for them, as they in- 
 stinctively shunned them. One evening Armstrong 
 heard an uproar outside of his door and opened it just 
 in time to shoot a large black wolf which was attempt- 
 ing to kill his dog within ten feet of the house. Thus 
 the week was passed, and at the close of the time al- 
 lotted for the stay the naturalist began to get his 
 specimens in order for the trip down the river. The 
 last evening Armstrong, Farrell, and McLaughlin 
 each brought in a deer. They were so peculiarly 
 m'arked that a discussion of deer was started at once. 
 
 Armstrong's deer looked much like a common or 
 Virginia deer, but the tail was black on the outside 
 and white underneath. It was thought at first that 
 
218 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 this was a true Columbia black-tail deer, but Mc- 
 Laughlin, who had killed many of them, was not 
 sure of it. 
 
 "Why do you call these mountain deer 'mule 
 deer?' " asked Farrell. " They are called 'black-tails' 
 all through this countr5^ " 
 
 " Yes, they are usually called ' black-tails ' by the 
 hunters up in this country, but they are not the true 
 black- tail deer. The Columbia or true black-tail deer 
 live on the Pacific side of the mountains, ranging 
 from California to British Columbia. Their range 
 is thus restricted, and only stragglers are ever seen 
 on this slope." 
 
 "I've killed lots of them on the coast side," said 
 McLaughlin. " They are not so large as these moun- 
 tain or mule deer. Their legs are shorter and their 
 ears are not so large." 
 
 "There's where the distinction comes in," said the 
 naturalist. " They are not as large as the common 
 Virginia deer." 
 
 "Well, I'd like to know how a fellow's going to 
 know them when he sees them," said Farrell. 
 " Some mule deer, as you call them, are small, with 
 short legs." 
 
 " They can always be distinguished, if you know 
 how to look at them," was Dyche's answer. "The 
 tail of the true black- tail deer is black or tawny black 
 on the outside and sides, and there is a streak of white 
 underneath. The tail is round and full-haired, much 
 like that of the Virginia deer. That of the latter is 
 flat, however, and much longer than the other. The 
 ears of the Columbia deer are about half-way between 
 
VARIETIES OF DEER. 219 
 
 those of the Virginia deer and the mule deer in size. 
 The antlers are almost exactly like those of the mule 
 deer." 
 
 " Is there any distinction between the horns of the 
 different species of deer?" asked Mac. 
 
 " There is a greater difference here than anywhere 
 else except in the glands of the legs. The horns of 
 the Virginia deer rise from the head, swing back and 
 up and around to the front of the head as one beam. 
 The points, or branches, all grow up and out of this 
 main beam. The first or brow point is usually 
 rather long. The horns of a mule deer come up in 
 the same general way, but spread more and the 
 branches do not stand up on the main beam. The 
 brow point grows in the same way as in the common 
 deer, but is usually shorter. In the mule deer, you 
 see, the main beam divides. Here you have it in 
 this one," said Dyche, pointing to a set of antlers 
 near. " Here it branches into two equal parts and 
 these branches again divide equally. This is the 
 distinction and is constant. A brow point and four 
 branches, usually of the same size, give the general 
 plan of the antlers of the mule deer. There may be 
 several other branches and snags growing from the 
 horns, but the general plan can usually be made out 
 without trouble if you look for it. " 
 
 "Well, that clears me up," said the Pathfinder. 
 " As I now understand you, the horns of a mule deer, 
 or true black-tailed deer, branch about the same way 
 and there are four main prongs besides the brow point. 
 If the deer has such horns and has a round tail about 
 as large as a mule-deer tail, black or blackish on the 
 
220 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 outside, a white streak underneath, a full-haired tail, 
 not bare underneath like a mule deer, and round, not 
 flat like a Virginia deer, then the animal is a true 
 Columbia black-tail deer." 
 
 "That's the idea," said Dyche, "but you should 
 not forget to take in the ears and leg glands. The 
 ears of the common deer are about half as long as its 
 tail, the ears of the mule deer are nearly as long as 
 its tail, while the ears of the Columbia deer are of 
 intermediate size, being a little over half as long as 
 the tail. Then there are the leg glands, which are 
 always a distinctive mark. The metatarsal gland is 
 situated on the outside of the hind leg between the 
 hock joint and foot. The gland is easily found from 
 the extra length of the hair which grows about it and 
 forms a tuft. The glandular structure can easily be 
 seen by separating the hair which grows on either 
 side of it. This gland in a mule deer is from six to 
 eight inches long, extending down from just below 
 the hock joint ; in the true black-tail deer it is from 
 three to four inches long ; in the common Virginia 
 deer it is from one to two inches long." 
 
 " Well, I'd just like to know what kind of a deer 
 this is that Armstrong killed," said Farrell. "Its 
 tail is black on the outside. " 
 
 " You see the horns are those of the common Vir- 
 ginia deer," said the naturalist. " There is one main 
 beam, with long five-inch brow points. All the 
 other points grow up from the main beam. The tail 
 is, as you say, black on the outside, but it is long — 
 twice as long as the ears. Horns, ears, and tail go 
 to show that this is a Virginia deer. It is not an 
 
VARIETIES OF DEER. 221 
 
 uncommon thing for the Virginia deer of this north- 
 western country to have the outside of the tail black. 
 Deer in the northern part of North America, as a 
 rule, are much larger than those of the southern 
 climes. Bucks up here frequently reach a weight of 
 two hundred and fifty pounds, while one weighing 
 one hundred and fifty down there is considered a big 
 fellow." 
 
 "What's the difference between the long-tailed 
 deer, the white-tailed deer, the Virginia deer, and the 
 common deer?" asked Maurice. 
 
 " A difference in name only, " replied Dyche. " The 
 species ranges all over the United States and up in 
 the mountains of British Columbia. Some writers 
 have gone so far as to describe geographical varieties 
 of this deer. The mule deer is peculiar to the west- 
 em half of the United States. Its natural home is 
 in the mountains, but it was formerly found along 
 the wooded streams as far east as Kansas and Min- 
 nesota." 
 
 "You fellows would talk a pine stump deaf," inter- 
 jected Armstrong. "What's the difference? A deer's 
 a deer. The meat is all the same. I've been eatin' 
 it for twenty-five years and oughter know something 
 about it by this time." 
 
 "You'd better go and cut some wood for your 
 clutchman [squaw] . As I came by I saw her chop- 
 ping and splitting that old log in front of the house," 
 replied Maurice. 
 
 " Yes, I was out huntin* all afternoon and she didn't 
 chop any wood," said the ranchman. " She can chop 
 as well as I can but waits for me to do it. When I 
 
223 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 got my supper I made a sneak and came over here 
 and let her do the choppin'." 
 
 "Did you ever see a spike-horn buck?" asked Mc- 
 Laughlin. 
 
 " Yes ; I killed a Virginia deer in New Mexico with 
 his first horns. They were about six inches long and 
 were single. The first horns of a deer are usually 
 forked. Spike-horns are very rare." 
 
 " Do does ever have horns?" asked Farrell. 
 
 McLaughlin answered this by saying that he had 
 seen one doe, in his twenty-five years' experience, 
 which had horns. Dyche told of a skull with small 
 horns that he had seen in Denver which had been 
 represented to be that of a doe. The eyes of the men 
 began to grow heavy now, and Armstrong went home, 
 and the others were soon wrapped in their blankets 
 listening to the music of the wolves and the wind in 
 the pines. 
 
 The horses were rounded up with great difficulty 
 next morning, for the animals had had a long rest 
 with plenty of food and were full of life. Three 
 days' hard travelling carried the party down the val- 
 ley and over the range to Loomis' ranch, where Dyche 
 found twelve letters. The last freight wagons of the 
 season were on the point of starting for the railroad, 
 two hundred miles away, and the naturalist made 
 arrangements to have his specimens taken along. 
 Maurice and McLaughlin helped him to the last min- 
 ute, and the parting from them was like the separa- 
 tion of old friends. The acquaintance had been but 
 of a month and a half's duration, but the camp-life 
 had shown the strong qualities of both men. The 
 
PARTING COMPANY. 223 
 
 management of the camp was second nature to them, 
 and the trackless wilds of the great forest were as 
 plain and open to them as are the streets and alleys 
 to the dwellers in the cities. They loved the forest 
 and its associations. To them the singing of the 
 pines was sweet music. Trees and rocks were their 
 companions. They were true sons of Nature and in 
 touch with her ever-changing mood. Dyche was of 
 the same mould ; the parting was not an easy one. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 At the Lake of the Woods — After Moose — A Plague of Mos- 
 quitoes — Dark Swamps and Deep Rivers — Compensations. 
 
 I HE work of the winter and early spring in 
 the workshop had put the specimens of 
 the British Cohimbia trip in good shape 
 for preservation. Several fine groups 
 were mounted and placed on exhibition in the 
 university museum. But as the season advanced 
 the. warm months brought to the mind of the natu- 
 ralist a desire for more work in the woods. Dyche 
 wanted a group of moose to complete his collec- 
 tion, and he laid his plans before the board of re- 
 gents. When asked by them where he would get his 
 moose he acknowledged that he was yet uncertain, 
 but one thing was sure, and that was that moose 
 were not to be found on the campus of the uni- 
 versity. The regents looked with favour on Dyche's 
 plans and told him to go ahead, and he at once began 
 corresponding with people from Maine to Alaska. 
 Moose could be heard of in different parts of the 
 country along the northern border of the United 
 States, but after carefully considering the claims of 
 each place the naturalist decided that the country 
 around the Lake of the Woods would offer the best 
 opportunities. 
 
AFTER MOOSE. 225 
 
 The first of July found Dyche at Warren, Minne- 
 sota, where he met a hunter and Indian trader with 
 whom he had been corresponding. This man, Brown, 
 was not only a hunter, but also a naturalist and a 
 close observer, and he was therefore a most valuable 
 companion. While they were preparing for the trip 
 into the swamps Brown told Dyche much about the 
 mosquitoes, and these stories were so extravagant 
 that the naturalist was disposed to look upon them 
 as largely fiction, but he afterwards found, to his sor- 
 row, that no stretch of the imagination could equal 
 the reality in this case. 
 
 A few days were spent at Warren in buying an 
 outfit of horses and a light wagon. Just as they 
 were ready to start for the swamps, Loughridge, a 
 rancher who lived at the end of the road towards Thief 
 Lake, came to their camp. He was an old friend of 
 Brown's and he asked the hunters to drive a team of 
 mules which he was sending home. He wished the 
 two men to care for the animals. They were 
 willing, and he insisted that they should make 
 his ranch their headquarters while they were in the 
 country. Loughridge gave them explicit directions 
 about the road and suggested that they stop the first 
 night at the ranch of a Norwegian named Goshens, 
 who lived about a day's travel from Warren. 
 
 As evening approached they began to look for Go- 
 shens' place and inquired of the l^orwegians whom 
 they met, but found that the English language was 
 an unknown quantity in that region. At last they 
 met a bright-looking young fellow and asked for 
 Goshens. A stupid look rested on his face for an 
 
226 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 instant; then he replied with a smile, "Ja, Ga- 
 shens." 
 
 He pointed in a most indefinite manner towards 
 several houses which were in sight about a mile from 
 the road, but as they were in different directions his 
 information was useless. Some time was lost in try- 
 ing to discover the fellow's meaning, and at last 
 the party decided on a house and went to it. On 
 asking if Goshens lived there they received an affirm- 
 ative answer, but were surprised to find that no one 
 about the place talked English, although Loughridge 
 had said that Goshens could give them information. 
 Arrangements were made, however, for accommoda- 
 tions. 
 
 Mosquitoes had been plentiful for hours before they 
 reached the ranch, but now the air was literally alive 
 with them. The horses were fighting, kicking, and 
 rolling in their efforts to get rid of the pests, and when 
 Dyche went to put blankets on them he was driven 
 back into the house by the swarms of bloodthirsty in- 
 sects and was compelled to cover his head with a thick 
 cloth and his hands with gloves before he could get 
 near the horses. Then followed a wretched night, 
 the remembrance of which will ever remain vivid in 
 Dyche's mind. It was a constant struggle for fresh 
 air against swarming hordes of the most villanous 
 mosquitoes that ever sung. The air was perfectly 
 black with them, while their noise was almost like 
 the wind in the pines. To make matters worse, red 
 sand-fleas got into the sleeping-bags and did an ac- 
 tive business all night long. 
 
 The second night was passed at the ranch of another 
 
A PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES. 237 
 
 Norwegian. This ranch, or "camp" as it is called, 
 was in a grove bordering a great marsh some seven 
 or eight miles wide. These marshes are covered with 
 grass and in the dry seasons haymakers are frequently 
 seen at work there. The ground is virtually made 
 of dried grass and ligneous deposits, which at times 
 are burned away by fires that rage across the country, 
 eating great holes in the ground and leaving a most 
 uneven surface. Lakes and pools of various sizes in 
 these marshes afford breeding-places for countless 
 thousands of water-fowl, while over all, under all, and 
 through all are the mosquitoes. 
 
 The third day's travel took the hunters to Lough- 
 ridge's ranch, where they were in the heart of the 
 mosquito country. Large smudges of old damp 
 logs and hay were kept constantly burning to give 
 the horses some relief. So terrible were the attacks 
 of the insects that the poor animals would not leave 
 the smoke to get necessary food. Next day the 
 hunters started for Thief Lake, which was four miles 
 away. The whole country was a jungle of brush, 
 logs, and pea-vines, and evening found them still on 
 the road with the lake half a mile away. Next 
 morning their camp was moved to the lake and prep- 
 arations made for the hunt. Near by was an old 
 deserted camp of the Chippewa Indians. Scattered 
 all about were evidences that the red men had been 
 successful in their hunts. Many moose and bear 
 bones were seen hanging to trees, where they had 
 been placed by the Indians to propitiate some god of 
 the chase. The shoulder-blades of the animals were 
 striped with charcoal and adorned with strips of 
 
^28 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 cloth and then hung to a limb as an offering. A 
 number of fleshing-bones and other implements used 
 by the Indians were found. 
 
 The purpose of this trip was to hunt moose, but it 
 soon appeared to develop into a fight with mosquitoes 
 for twenty-four hours each day. The experience of 
 the first night in the swamp was repeated every night 
 thereafter until the frost killed the insects. The 
 ponies were sewed up in heavy blankets from head 
 to foot, and smudge fires were kept constantly burn- 
 ing that the suffering animals might stand in the 
 smoke. The tent was pitched and banked down so 
 tightly on all sides that it was impossible for the in- 
 sects to enter. Then with a lighted candle every 
 mosquito inside the tent was tried by fire. It was 
 stifiing inside the tent, but it was torment on the 
 outside. During the night the horses threshed 
 around among the bushes, rolling, kicking, squeal- 
 ing, and tumbling about in their efforts to rid 
 themselves of the pests, and at last one of the animals 
 got down and began rolling in the ashes of the fire. 
 This proceeding was due to the fact that the smudge 
 fire had burned low, and Dyche prepared to go out to 
 start the fire again. Brown endeavoured to dissuade 
 him, but it was necessary to relieve the horses or they 
 might tear down the tent. Covering himself, head 
 and hands, with cheese-cloth, the naturalist went to 
 the remains of the fire. The air was thick with 
 mosquitoes. The warm blankets of the horses were 
 literally hidden by the insects. The tent was so com- 
 pletely covered that not a sign of white could be seen 
 anywhere. The droning noise changed into a 
 
A PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES. 229 
 
 screaming sound, rising and falling with the move- 
 ments of the swarms, which extended for miles 
 upon miles in every direction. Dyche was at once 
 covered. After starting a fire with the old logs, 
 so that a dense smoke would rise, he returned to 
 the tent, but there went with him hundreds of 
 mosquitoes, and another hour was spent with the 
 candle getting rid of them. This experience was 
 repeated night after night, while the days were 
 spent in brushing the swarms away from the 
 nose, mouth, and eyes. With every precaution it was 
 impossible to be free from the bites, and their hands 
 and faces were swollen from the poisonous stings. 
 The tops of the tall tamarack trees were the only 
 places where the hunters could be free from the pests. 
 
 An old Norwegian lived in a small log hut near, 
 and the hunters paid him a visit. They soon discov- 
 ered that the old fellow had evidently lost his sense 
 of smell. He spent his time in catching and curing 
 fish, which he caught by means of a dam and fish- 
 trap in the stream. These fish were hung on a pole 
 to dry, and with them hung the skin of the old man's 
 dog, which had died a few days before. The Nor- 
 wegian offered some fish from the pole to his visitors, 
 but they were declined with thanks. The extent of 
 his conversational powers was limited to"Ja, so," 
 which fact gave him the name of " Old Ja So." 
 
 The days were slipping by and neither moose nor 
 signs of moose were found. Dyche had come to the 
 country early in order to get moose calves, but as 
 time passed he saw no prospect of accomplishing his 
 object. Days were passing into weeks, and some- 
 
230 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 thing must be done soon if a specimen of a calf was to 
 be secured. Finally it was determined to move camp 
 to the other end of the lake. They were just ready 
 to proceed, when the horses took it into their heads 
 to add to the troubles which had followed the party 
 ever since they had come into the country. The 
 load had been securely packed and then tied down 
 in order to keep it in place on the wagon. Just as 
 they were ready to start the horses made a bolt and 
 were off towards Loughridge's ranch at full speed. 
 Dyche and Brown ran after them for a few hundred 
 yards and then gave up the chase and proceeded slowly 
 on the broad trail left by the bounding wagon. The 
 outfit was soon out of sight and the naturalists fol- 
 lowed at a fast walk, wondering what would be left 
 by the time the horses had finished their escapade. 
 
 The trail was almost lost, when a horse- blanket ly- 
 ing in the swamp showed them the way, and then 
 they found a ham. With a blanket and a ham they 
 could at least sleep and eat, so with this grain of con- 
 solation they continued the chase. Here the wagon 
 had struck a root and there it had almost turned 
 over. A piece of the tail-gate was found and then a 
 broken bit of the wagon-box stood up in the swamp. 
 Here lay the lid of the " chuck-box " and there the 
 top of the cracker-box. Hurrying on, they finally 
 came in sight of Loughridge's ranch, and there, 
 standing at the corral fence, were the runaways, ap- 
 parently asleep. Old Buck had been warranted as 
 one of the gentlest horses in the country, but his gen- 
 tleness was laziness, and it turned out that he would 
 run away at every opportunity. 
 
DARK SWAMPS AND DEEP RIVERS. 231 
 
 Dyche's work in the taxidermic shop stood him in 
 good stead now, and with some bolts and strap iron 
 found in the remains of an old mowing-machine he 
 soon had the wagon in as good a condition as 
 before. The hunters now proceeded to the head 
 of the lake and renewed their hunt for a moose 
 calf. They were in the midst of the great swamp 
 and they explored the country for miles in every 
 direction. This was surely the home of the moose 
 and there were signs that the animals had been 
 there, as old beds and tracks were seen. Dyche 
 soon discovered that while it was easy for him 
 to find his way about the mountains, it was a 
 different matter here. He spent one bad afternoon 
 searching for camp, under the impression that he 
 would have to remain in the swamps all night with 
 no protection from the mosquitoes. It was only by 
 the greatest luck that he finally came to the river and 
 followed the stream to camp. Day after day was 
 spent in unsuccessful hunting, and the hunters were 
 almost ready to give up in despair, when they dis- 
 covered a place where a cow moose and her twin 
 calves had made their beds. The beds were more 
 than a week old, but they renewed the enthusiasm 
 of the hunters. 
 
 Camp was again moved and they went as far as 
 possible into the swamp. The whole country was 
 covered with "moskegs," a peculiar formation com- 
 posed of plants and grass which had become so matted 
 as to make a new soil on the top of the water of the 
 lakes, and finally had become so firm as to give sup- 
 port for the growth of trees and shrubs. There were 
 16 
 
232 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 hundreds of acres of cranberries and blueberries in 
 the swamp, and while to all appearances the surface 
 was firm ground, it was in reality a most treacherous 
 place, for at any moment the hunter might sink to 
 his hips in water. Here were found so many evi- 
 dences of moose that the hunters were satisfied that 
 they had at last reached the right place. All was 
 going well and the indications pointed to a successful 
 moose-hunt, when Brown had the misfortune to let 
 his axe slip and cut his foot between the heel and 
 ankle. Dyche had gone for wood, and when he re- 
 turned he saw his companion rolling on the ground 
 and moaning. The flow of blood could not be 
 stopped for several minutes. The wound was dressed, 
 but Brown was compelled to lie still for several days, 
 while to Dyche fell the greater part of camp work 
 and all the hunting. 
 
 East from the camp there stretched a great meadow, 
 and it became a daily habit for one of the hunters to 
 mount the wagon and examine this open place for 
 any possible indication of game. After Brown's 
 foot had begun to heal and he was doing light work 
 about the camp, he was dissuaded with difficulty 
 from going out to hunt. One morning Dyche was 
 standing on the wagon scrutinising the meadow, when 
 he called to Brown in a low but excited voice. Brown 
 climbed up as quickly as his lame foot would permit. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "There, don't you see them? Just at the edge of 
 the timber." 
 
 Brown eagerly scanned the country with field- 
 glasses and at last caught sight of the animals. 
 
. DARK SWAMPS AND DEEP RIVERS. 2B3^ 
 
 "Moose!" he exclaimed; "they are moose, sure. 
 They are nearly out of sight behind that point of 
 brush, but they are moose, sure." 
 
 Brown crawled down from the wagon, and despite 
 all warnings from Dyche began to make preparations 
 for a hunt. He caught up his Mariin and Dyche 
 his Winchester, and off they went, Brown hobbling 
 along on his lame foot while Dyche tried in vain to 
 induce him to go back to camp. 
 
 " Get back. You'll ruin that foot," said Dyche. 
 
 "Guess I can stand it," was the only answer. 
 
 " You'll catch cold in it in the water." 
 
 "Guess I can stand it." 
 
 The animals had moved south into a bunch of 
 willows which extended into the swamp. The wind 
 was in the northwest and the hunters made a cir- 
 cuit to the south, hoping to head off the moose be- 
 fore they got out of the country. Brown, whose 
 foot seemed to give him no trouble, was of the opin- 
 ion that they would not be able to get ahead of the 
 animals unless they stopped to feed in the bunch of 
 willows, for when they once started they usually 
 kept going for many miles. 
 
 Reaching a point three-quarters of a mile to the 
 south of the place where the moose had been seen, the 
 hunters thought it time to look for signs. There were 
 no indications that the game had passed that way. 
 Dyche climbed a tall tree and scanned the country in 
 every direction, but there was no living thing to 
 be seen. A long consultation resulted only in 
 the belief that they knew that there were three moose 
 in the country, and the hunters made their way slowly 
 
234 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 back towards camp. Dyche thought the animals 
 might be feeding in the willow thicket, but Brown 
 said it was hardly possible. His experience taught 
 him that they always fed away from the lakes and 
 rivers. Their beds and other signs were nearly al- 
 ways found far in the woods, which would tend to 
 carry out the theory. He felt quite sure that the 
 moose were miles away to the south by this time. 
 "While giving due weight to Brown's theories, Dyche 
 could not get rid of the idea that the animals might 
 be feeding in the willows, and at last Brown said he 
 would crawl through while Dyche went around on 
 the edge to shoot if the animals rushed out. Brown 
 was cautioned not to shoot the old cow, for the season 
 was so far advanced that her hair would be in bad 
 condition and her meat was not needed. 
 
 " Don't kill the cow, but if you get the two calves 
 I'll give you ten dollars extra," was the parting in- 
 junction. 
 
 " They are dead calves if I see them," was Brown's 
 reply, as he crawled into the brush. 
 
 Five minutes of silence ; then a shot rang out, 
 quickly followed by four others in rapid succession. 
 A bullet sang close to Dyche 's head and he dropped 
 to the ground to escape the next one. A whining, 
 bawling noise was heard and then Brown shouted. 
 Hastening to the spot, the naturalist found Brown 
 bending over a moose calf, not yet dead. A short 
 distance away lay another. 
 
 "Brown, you've done well, but I ought to have 
 been in it and got one of them." 
 
 " That's so. These are your moose." 
 
COMPENSATIONS. 235 
 
 "Where's the old cow? Which way did she go?" 
 
 " Go? Why, she was lying down there in the edge 
 of the brush and got up within five rods of me." 
 
 " Well, where did she go?" 
 
 "Go? Why, she just stood there and I shot her 
 for her impudence. She looked as if she was going 
 to charge me. I never yet allowed a moose to get up 
 within five rods of me and run off if I could help it." 
 
 The hair of the cow was found to be in excellent con- 
 dition. It was short and thick, almost black. Her 
 skin and skeleton and meat were saved after care- 
 ful measurements, and they were taken to camp 
 with the calves next day, while traps were set about 
 the remains of the dead cow. The calves were an 
 iron-gray colour, shading into black on the under 
 sides and lighter on the legs. 
 
 A week was spent in getting the specimens in order, 
 another in returning to Warren, and a third in pack- 
 ing the specimens and preparing i;hem for ship- 
 ment. Old Buck was traded off for an active little 
 black horse and then a trip was taken to Thief River 
 Falls, where a number of moose calves were in cap- 
 tivity. A day was spent in examining them and 
 making notes and drawings. Some of the calves 
 were so tame that they allowed themselves to be 
 measured with a tape-line. 
 
CHAPTER XYL 
 
 In the Swamps— Habits of the Moose— The Moose-Call— On 
 the River— Good Shooting Secures a Group— The King of 
 Game Animals— The Naturalist nearly Killed. 
 
 JePTEMBER was half gone. The cold 
 north wind brought ice and snow and 
 the conditions were changed in the 
 swamps. Travelling was as difficult as 
 it could well be. The chill air and snow put a 
 damper on the mosquitoes, however, and while these 
 pests were not exterminated they made their ap- 
 pearance only on the warmest days. Water was 
 everywhere and the whole swamp seemed converted 
 into one vast lake. It became necessary to build a 
 platform of poles and logs on which to make camp. 
 On this platform, twelve feet wide by twenty-four 
 long, was the equipment of the hunters. One end 
 supported the tent, while on the other a little clay 
 and wet debris from the bottom of the swamp was 
 placed. On this clay bed the fire was built, and as it 
 burned down to the water's edge the clay and ashes 
 made a good foundation. To prevent accident, how- 
 ever, the fire was extinguished whenever the himters 
 left camp. 
 
 All the hunting was now done in water, and the 
 236 
 
IN THE SWAMPS. 237 
 
 continual wading placed Dyche's knees in a condition 
 which strongly reminded him of goat-hunting in 
 the Cascades. Higher and higher rose the water, and 
 the horses were in danger of losing their hoofs from 
 standing' in so much moisture. A quaking-asp 
 grove on a sand ridge was discovered about a mile 
 from the platform camp, and it was decided to move 
 to this. Three days later the hunters were ensconced 
 in a new camp. Water or no water, they were de- 
 termined to stay until they secured a moose, even if 
 it took them until Christmas to do it. With a ton 
 of good hay cut for the horses, there was nothing 
 to prevent an enjoyable hunt in the water. 
 
 Cold nights with heavy frosts had changed the as- 
 pect of the whole country. The shivering aspens had 
 dropped their leaves, while the tamaracks were chang- 
 ing to a golden brown and covering the earth with 
 their needles. Vast armies of ducks, geese, and other 
 aquatic fowls covered the swamp in every direction 
 and streamed overhead in countless thousands all 
 day and night, with their constant " honk, honk, " 
 like the bugle-calls of some great army. Many 
 flocks of willow-grouse came about the camp, and 
 their cackling could be heard in all directions in the 
 cold frosty mornings as they sat on the bare trees or 
 the upturned roots of some overthrown giant of the for- 
 est. Thousands of incidents new and strange to the 
 naturalist were of daily occurrence and lent zest 
 to the hunting. 
 
 But the horns of the bull moose were now getting 
 hard, and it was a big bull moose that Brown and 
 Dyche were after. The naturalist wanted a very large 
 
238 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 one to head his group. Brown was anxious to please 
 him, but he shook his head whenever this big fellow 
 was mentioned. 
 
 " You may get one, but I doubt it. I've been hunt- 
 ing moose for five years and have never yet seen a 
 very large one. Big bulls are mighty scarce. I 
 found the horns of one once having a spread of forty- 
 eight inches, but I think he was the last of the 
 lot." 
 
 While Brown was inclined to be discouraging, 
 Dyche was determined to have a big moose if 
 there was one left in the swamp. The season for 
 calling moose had arrived, and while the naturalist 
 had heard much of this manner of attracting the ani- 
 mals, he had never seen it done. Brown was an old 
 moose-caller and had brought the animals up to him 
 and shot them. He had learned the art of an old 
 Nova Scotia moose-hunter who had spent a lifetime 
 at the business. Dyche took lessons until Brown 
 pronounced him proficient enough to deceive the old- 
 est moose in the woods, and then they were ready to 
 go after the big fellows. 
 
 "The moose knows what he's about every time," 
 said Brown. "You can't fool him unless you do 
 everything just right. A moose can smell where 
 you have passed along several hours before, and 
 whenever he gets scent of a man it's good-bye, Mr. 
 Moose. You can call the moose and get the answer 
 all right enough. The old fellow may be three or 
 four miles away, but he will come promptly to the spot 
 whence the call comes. He won't come in, a bee-line, 
 but he will get there. He goes in a big circle around 
 
HABITS OF THE MOOSE. 289 
 
 and around the place or zigzags back and forth, grad- 
 ually getting closer and closer until he is within a 
 few hundred yards, and then he will go slowly and 
 be sure that everything is just right. If there is the 
 slightest wind he will scent you, and off he goes to 
 some secluded spot ten or fifteen miles distant. The 
 best way is to get on the bank of a lake or river, with 
 the wind, if there is any, blowing towards the water, 
 and then the moose will go backwards and forwards, 
 quartering from one side to the other, until he is close 
 up. If you make a sound, take a step, or move your 
 cramped legs, all your trouble is for nothing, for the 
 old fellow will never stop to investigate, but will go 
 out of the country as fast as his legs can carry 
 him. 
 
 " You are in no danger whatever from the moose, 
 for they never attack a man unless badly wounded 
 and unable to get away. But there are many strange 
 things that happen while you are lying out in the 
 swamp waiting for the moose to come. Sometimes 
 a big fellow will be answering your call and coming 
 towards you, and while your attention is directed 
 towards him you will be surprised by the appearance 
 of a young bull which has also been attracted but 
 which has come silently for fear of the big one. The 
 young fellow is not saying much, but the first thing 
 you know he stumbles in on you and spoils the whole 
 thing. 
 
 " Sometimes the bull that answers will have a cow 
 with him. When he hears the call he will leave his 
 cow and start for the new one. The old cow gets 
 jealous and starts too, and while the old bull is thresh- 
 
240 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 ing around in the bushes she comes straight to you 
 ready to fight her rival. Then again I've known 
 bears to come where they hear the cow bawling. 
 I suppose they think there is a calf somewhere in the 
 bushes and expect to get some of the meat. You 
 may be lying in the bushes listening to the guttural 
 grunts of the big bull moose as he makes his circuit 
 around you, when suddenly a bear will appear in 
 front of you looking for something to eat. Well, 
 you ain't hunting bear just then and the sight is any- 
 thing but pleasant. 
 
 "When you are calling moose and are answered 
 by the barking of wolves or coyotes, you can just put 
 up your horn and go back to camp. There will be 
 no moose that night. I don't know why, but that 
 is what old man Thomas told me and I have always 
 found it true. The howling of wolves in reply to a 
 moose-horn seems to be a sure sign that the moose 
 will not answer." 
 
 This talk had the effect of making Dyche think that 
 moose-calling was anything but a pleasant operation, 
 and when he came to try it he found that the reality 
 was even worse than the anticipation. One night 
 when the wind had died down the first attempt to 
 beguile a moose was made. It was wet and cold, and 
 after Dyche had been stationed in a bit of swamp at 
 the edge of the river, where he immediately got wet 
 to the skin, Brown made a call. The first call was 
 low, with the horn turned towards the ground, 
 while the mouth of the instrument was muffled 
 with the hand. After waiting fifteen minutes 
 without an answer the call was made again, 
 
THE MOOSE-CALL. 241 
 
 this time louder with the mouth of the horn free. 
 Twenty minutes passed and no answer came. A 
 third time the call was made, loud and clear, but no 
 answer came. Again the call was given, this time 
 with the full force of the hunter's lungs. It rang 
 out over the forest like a trumpet. 
 
 With the birch-bark cone at his lips, the mouth 
 towards the ground, Brownemitted a peculiar grunt- 
 ing squeal, and as he called he elevated the horn with 
 a spiral motion high in the air over his head and 
 then back down towards the ground, the sound rising 
 and falling and vibrating through the forest. This 
 was repeated three times and then they waited in the 
 stillness for the answer. The noise is the bawl of 
 the cow moose, and is a combination of the prolonged 
 howl of a dog and the lowing of a cow, if this can be 
 imagined. 
 
 The sound penetrated the depths of the forest for 
 miles, and the echoes had barely died away when there 
 came from a far-distant part of the swamp a most 
 peculiar grunting or thumping noise. It sounded 
 something like the rapidly repeated " woof, woof " of 
 a big dog. The sound was continued, the moose 
 gradually drawing nearer and nearer, all the while 
 uttering his deep guttural grunt or bark. It was his 
 answer to the cow, and while he was undoubtedly 
 three miles away when he first heard the call, he went 
 directly to the spot where the two men were lying 
 concealed, almost frozen from their long wait in the 
 frosty swamp grass. Dyche was stiff and numb from 
 his hips down, while Brown was in little better condi- 
 tion. The old fellow was coming, however, and they 
 
242 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 did not mind the disagreeable part of it if they could 
 only get a shot at a large bull moose. The " woof, 
 woof " came closer, and at last they could hear the 
 animal threshing around in the bushes about a hun- 
 dred yards away. At last he appeared at the edge of 
 a thicket about a hundred yards away from the hunt- 
 ers. He was threshing the bushes in an extraordi- 
 nary fashion and all the while keeping up his grunting 
 noise. As he circled around he could be seen as he 
 passed from one clump of bushes to another. Finally 
 he came out into the opening and trotted about forty 
 yards forwards towards Dyche and Brown. Here he 
 stopped stone-still, with his head erect and his great 
 black body looming up like that of an elephant. 
 Dyche whispered that it was time to shoot, but 
 Brown objected, saying that the moose would come 
 closer. But his prediction was erroneous, for the 
 bull suddenly wheeled about and dashed into the 
 bushes, where he resumed his grunting and thresh- 
 ing. For over an hour he continued tramping 
 around within a hundred and fifty yards of the 
 hunters, until at last Dyche grew so cold that he 
 could not have hit a moose ten yards away. No 
 noise had been heard for ten or fifteen minutes, and 
 the naturalist said he was going back to camp. 
 Brown gave another muffled call, and as no answer 
 came they started for the tent. Just as they were 
 well under way the moose gave another grunt and 
 began beating the bushes with his horns again. The 
 hunters crouched down and waited for another half- 
 hour, when Dyche made a break for the camp, de- 
 claring that there were not enough moose in the 
 
THE MOOSE-CALL. 243 
 
 woods to keep him there another minute. They 
 reached the tent about midnight, chilled through. 
 
 Several inches of fresh snow fell soon after, and 
 Dyche made a circuit through the country. He found 
 fresh moose-tracks and started after the animal, fol- 
 lowing the trail for about eight miles without seeing 
 the moose. Great holes had been pawed in the snow 
 and the trees and bushes showed marks where they had 
 been threshed with the horns of the bull. In several 
 places the moose had stopped to feed upon the tender 
 tops of willow bushes and the red osier or " killikinic." 
 Sometimes the trail led straight through the centre of 
 these patches of willow and osier, but usually it skirted 
 them. The moose seemed to enjoy going through 
 ihQ centre of the spruce and tamarack groves, where 
 there was plenty of water, which gave Dyche a pair 
 of very wet feet. 
 
 One evening Dyche concluded to try calling alone. 
 Taking the birch-bark horn he went to the bank of 
 the river, about four miles from camp. The wind 
 went down with the sun, and just as the great yellow 
 disk disappeared the naturalist gave a muffled call. 
 No answer came and the call was repeated. Far off 
 in the tamarack swamp a sound was heard which 
 the hunter at first failed to recognise, although he 
 finally concluded that it was a moose. His supposition 
 was not amiss, for soon the animal was heard coming 
 directly towards his place of concealment. The moose 
 was on the opposite side of the river and at last he could 
 be heard in the bushes, threshing around with his im- 
 mense horns until one could almost imagine that a 
 dozen bulls were fighting in the forest. Dead limbs 
 
244 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 would be knocked down and his horns would rattle 
 against the trees, and then all would be silent for 
 several minutes. 
 
 The moose was between fifty and seventy-five yards 
 away, and now Dyche began to fear that the animal 
 would refuse to come out where he could be seen. 
 All the while the naturalist was getting colder and 
 colder, but he did not dare take a step or get into an 
 easier position for fear of sending the animal back to 
 the forest. It became evident that the moose did not 
 intend to cross the river, and the hunter determined 
 either to bring the game out or send him back home. 
 With the birch-bark horn he gently rubbed the top of 
 the willows. It was the challenge from one bull to 
 another. Instantly all sound from the bull ceased. 
 The big moose stood and listened. Dyche waited 
 fully half an hour, but never a sound came from the 
 bull. The rain now came down heavily, and Dyche 
 decided that it was of no use to waste more time with 
 the moose. He gave the bushes another rub and then 
 emitted a defiant grunt from the horn. The effect was 
 magical. The moose bolted straight for the deep 
 woods, making as much noise as a pair of horses 
 running away with an empty hay- wagon. He knew 
 he had been deceived and stopped for nothing. Dyche 
 was half-frozen and his legs were stiff, but he was 
 able to get a little amusement out of the bull's fran- 
 tic flight. 
 
 For three weeks the swamps were hunted in every 
 direction, and during the whole time not a gun was 
 fired. An old flat-bottomed scow which they had 
 brought in with them was caulked, and they started 
 
ON THE" RIVER. 245 
 
 on an exploring expedition up Moose River. Moose 
 were undoubtedly in the country somewhere, for they 
 answered the calls whenever they were made. They 
 poled along up the river, intending to stop morning 
 and evening and call for moose when the weather 
 was suitable. 
 
 It was hard work, but they pushed on, cutting 
 away the overhanging boughs and shoving aside 
 the driftwood with their poles. About the middle 
 of the afternoon of the first day they reached a place 
 where the river widened into a small lake. Just as 
 they rounded the point into the little lake a moose calf 
 was seen standing in the water. The calf started 
 through the brush to the woods and Dyche shot as it 
 was disappearing in the thicket. Again and again 
 he fired, sometimes at the calf and sometimes at the 
 woods, but with no evidence that the wild flight of 
 the animal was impeded. Just as the last cartridge 
 in the gun was fired another calf, which had been 
 standing in the water and brush farther up stream, 
 started out, and the naturalist seized Brown's gun 
 and sent a shot after it. The boat was pushed ashore 
 and search was made for the calves, but the only 
 wounds apparent were those made in the trees. 
 There were signs that three moose had been feeding 
 near by, but the animals had evidently gone else- 
 where on urgent business. 
 
 They now pushed their way up the river and at 
 sundown Brown gave several calls and got an answer. 
 The grunts continued several hours, but as they did 
 not appear to come closer the hunters crawled into 
 their sleeping-bags, leaving the moose to grunt at 
 
246 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 his pleasure. Shortly after midnight Dyche was 
 aroused by a strange noise, but the barking of a fox 
 and a spirited conversation between two owls was 
 all that broke the stillness, and he dropped back to 
 sleep again. An hour later he was wakened by 
 Brown, who was crawling out of his blankets. 
 
 "Get ready," came in an excited whisper from 
 Brown. 
 
 " What for?" was the sleepy response. 
 
 " Don't you hear that noise? A big moose is com- 
 ing." 
 
 The word " moose " fully aroused Dyche and the 
 hunters prepared for action. The bull came on, 
 making a great noise with his grunting and thresh- 
 ing, but after he came within fifty yards of the hunters 
 he refused to come farther and remained just within 
 the thicket and out of sight, all the while keeping up 
 his noise. It was very aggravating for the hunters 
 to sit all night in the cold, waiting for the moose to 
 come into sight, and then, just when daylight ap- 
 peared, to have him retreat to the place whence he 
 came. They got into the boat, much dejected, and 
 returned to the home camp, where a good night's rest 
 placed them in condition for another trial. They 
 spent the day in going up and camped at the head 
 of Moose Calf Lake, as the place had been named 
 by Brown in honour of Dyche's adventure with the 
 calves. 
 
 They pushed on up the stream all next day and 
 went much farther than they had ever been before. 
 When evening came they allowed the boat to drift 
 with the sluggish current and floated in this lazy 
 
ON THE RIVER. 347 
 
 manner until about ten o'clock, when they crawled 
 out on the bank and sought a dry spot on which to 
 sleep. As the evening wore on the cloudiness turned 
 to a drizzling rain and then the water poured down. 
 It was a dreadful night, and morning found two be- 
 draggled hunters who were inclined to believe that 
 the world is but a fleeting show. Tired and sore 
 from their exertions in pushing the boat all day and 
 weary and care-worn from a sleepless night in the 
 rain, they allowed the boat to take its own course. 
 
 Occasionally one or the other would dip his pole in 
 the water in a half-hearted way and then lapse into 
 inactivity again. Thus they moved along until the 
 afternoon, feeling that there was nothing to do but 
 get back to camp and secure some sleep. A few big 
 owls sitting on the tops of the trees eyed them in a 
 quizzical manner and appeared to make sport of 
 their dreary condition. Dyche was sore, mentally 
 and physically, and he felt that moose-hunting was a 
 failure, especially in a country where there was 
 water not onlj^ under-foot, but overhead, all the 
 time. The season for calling moose was about over, 
 and they had succeeded in getting them to come no 
 closer than the bushes where they could remain 
 hidden. While these doleful thoughts were chasing 
 each other through Dyche's brain. Brown capped 
 the climax by saying : 
 
 " Yes, a big bull moose is the rub." 
 
 Slowly drifting along, they reached the spot where 
 
 Dyche had had his experience with the calves a few 
 
 days before. As they pushed on through the lake, 
 
 Dyche glanced over into the bushes at which he had 
 IT 
 
248 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 wasted so much ammunition, and Brown quietly re- 
 marked : 
 
 "Yes, that is the spot." 
 
 No comment was necessary on Dyche's part, as he 
 felt that it was not his time to talk. 
 
 Just as they were making the turn at the lower 
 end of the lake, Dyche, who was sitting in the bow 
 of the boat, noticed a moose calf in the water about 
 seventy-five yards below. Only the top of the 
 animal's back showed above the water. As he 
 reached for his gun he noticed a smile flit across 
 Brown's face, and the calf turned towards him with 
 an air that seemed to say : " Hello ! is that you again ?" 
 In less than a second Dyche had his gun trained on 
 the back of the calf and sent a bullet after it. The 
 calf made a desperate lunge for the bank and disap- 
 peared in the bushes on the south side of the stream. 
 
 The boat was so unwieldy that the naturalist could 
 not push it to shore fast enough, and he jumped into 
 the water and ran for the bank, trying to get 
 ahead of the calf. He ran as fast and as far as he 
 could to get out into the open swamp, away from the 
 brush which lined the shore, hoping to obtain another 
 shot before the calf reached the spruce thickets. 
 After running forty or fifty yards through the swamp, 
 a noise on the north side of the river attracted his 
 attention and he saw a big moose just going into the 
 bushes. Dyche sent a bullet after it and then ran to 
 get around a clump of bushes to a spot where he 
 could catch another glimpse of the animal. A run of 
 seventy yards brought the moose into sight again, 
 and two more bullets were sent after her as she dis- 
 
OOOD SHOOTING SECURES A GROUP. 249 
 
 appeared in the bushes. After another run around 
 some brush he stopped to regain his breath, when 
 a sight met his eyes which almost took away his 
 breath. 
 
 A giant bull moose was just coming out of the 
 bushes on the opposite side of the river, facing al- 
 most directly towards Dyche. In an instant it flashed 
 through his mind that this was the animal which he 
 had been looking for. It was evident, even at that 
 distance, that the moose was a monster. His massive 
 horns branched like the tops of the trees around him 
 and his form showed. that he was one of the ancients 
 of the swamps. The naturalist realised that this was 
 the opportunity of a lifetime. He had been hunting 
 for this moose for three months and now he was here. 
 
 Bringing his Winchester to his shoulder, Dyche 
 held his breath and commanded his throbbing arte- 
 ries to be still. The bull was almost facing him 
 and was just swinging around the clump of 
 bushes, when, with the crack of the rifle, he gave a 
 great lunge forward and then whirled in his tracks 
 and started back into the woods. This gave the 
 hunter time to pump in another cartridge, and a 
 second shot was taken as the animal went into the 
 bushes. Again a heavy lunge showed that the bullet 
 had gone home, and as the animal went threshing 
 through the bushes two more bullets were sent at the 
 head, which could be seen going up and down as the 
 bull struggled to get through the jungle of brush and 
 logs. 
 
 The bull was now out of sight, and Dyche started 
 to run to the bank of the river, where he could get a 
 
250 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 clear view across, when the calf jumped up from be- 
 hind a log where it had been lying. The frightened 
 animal ran fifty yards before Dyche could get a shot 
 at it, and then it, too, disappeared and not a moose 
 was to be seen or a sound heard. 
 
 Dyche ran back to the spot where he had left Brown 
 in the boat, but Brown had gone ashore on the north 
 side and the boat was drifting down the river. The 
 naturalist waded to the scow and poled his way 
 across. He had gone but a short distance when 
 he heard a shout from Brown. Hastening to his com- 
 panion, he found him standing over a mighty bull 
 moose. He was, indeed, a monster. His great horns 
 spread out above his head like immense shields, while 
 his body showed that he was the giant of the swamps. 
 Dyche was almost exhausted with his exertions and 
 excitement, but he found sufficient breath to jump on 
 the big animal and make the woods ring with the 
 university yell. Brown looked at him in surprise 
 and then started off to look for more moose. Soon 
 his call was heard again, and this time Dyche found 
 him standing beside the body of a cow. Dyche gave 
 more cheers while his companion went to look for 
 the calf. 
 
 Soon Dyche heard the vigorous use of strong lan- 
 guage in the direction of the river, and hastening 
 there found that Brown had undertaken a task which 
 was almost too much for him. The calf, badly 
 wounded, was standing in the water pulling back 
 from Brown, who was holding to one ear while he 
 braced himself by grasping the willows lining the 
 stream with one hand. The calf was getting some- 
 
GOOD SHOOTING SECURES A GROUP. 251 
 
 what the better of this unique tug of wpr, and 
 when Dyche reached the spot Brown was up to his 
 waist in water and going deeper. Getting hold of 
 the other ear, Dyche assisted Brown in landing the 
 prize, which soon died of its wounds. 
 
 These incidents occurred in a very short space of 
 time, yet to Dyche it seemed that he had accom- 
 plished the object of a lifetime. What a bull this 
 was ! A leader in every sense of the word and just 
 the one to head the group which Dyche had in 
 contemplation. The horns and the grand proportions 
 of the body exceeded even the wildest dreams of the 
 naturalist, and he almost feared that he would wake 
 and find the whole episode a dream. He had seen 
 many sets of horns, but never before horns like these. 
 
 The measurements were taken and the specimens 
 dressed so that they would not be disturbed until 
 they could be taken to the home camp. From the 
 top of the back to the point of the hoof the big moose 
 measured, just as he lay, eighty-five and a half inches ; 
 from the top of the back to the bottom of the hoof, 
 eighty-one and a haK inches. The standing height of 
 the animal, after all corrections were made, was just 
 seventy-eight and a half inches. This was equal to a 
 horse nineteen and a half hands high, and above this 
 towered the massive head with its wide-branching 
 horns. The skin weighed one hundred and thirty- 
 five pounds after it had dried one day in the open air. 
 The heart was twenty-two inches in circumference at 
 the base and ten and a half inches in length, weigh- 
 ing, when free from all blood and arteries, six and a 
 half pounds. 
 
253 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 The old cow and calf were fit companions for this 
 monarch of the woods, and the three composed as 
 magnificent a group of the finest game animals in the 
 world as could be found in years of hunting. 
 
 Much has been said and written about the pleasure 
 of hunting the buffalo, and that animal has been 
 looked upon by the average lover of sport as the em- 
 bodiment of perfection in the way of game. He has 
 always been considered the king of the plains, and 
 to hunt him has been the ambition of kings. His 
 decadence has been mourned as the passing of an 
 era in the history of the sporting world. While it is 
 true that the bison, when he roamed the prairies 
 in the countless numbers recorded by Lewis and 
 Clarke in their " Explorations," afforded much excite- 
 ment to the lovers of the chase, yet the fact re- 
 mains that he had none of the characteristics which 
 belong to the true game animal. The stupid beasts 
 would stand in droves while the pot-hunter crawled 
 up and shot down hundreds from a place of conceal- 
 ment. He was an easy victim of the red men with 
 their simple weapons of the pre-Caucasian times and 
 was the great food-supply for the natives. The body 
 of the bison is large and affords food for many, while 
 his robe gives warm covering, but he was never, in 
 any sense of the word, a game animal. 
 
 But how is it with the moose, the giant of the 
 swamps? Here, indeed, is the greatest of all the 
 game animals of the Noriih American continent. He 
 is a monarch of the forests, and in addition to his 
 size he has sufficient speed and cunning to outwit the 
 wariest hunter, while his courage is equal to a defence 
 
THE KING OF GAME ANIMALS. 253 
 
 to the death when he is too closely pressed or receives 
 wounds which stop him in his flight. His home is 
 in the swamps, where his cunning and instinct teach 
 him that his enemies are at a disadvantage. His 
 eyes are of the keenest and note any casual change 
 in the appearance of the landscape, while his nose, 
 composed of a combination of cartilaginous boxes, 
 detects the faintest odour left by a passing enemy 
 even hours after the trail has been made. He does 
 not stand and investigate strange sights or examine 
 unusual scents, but at the first indication of danger 
 he flies to the deepest woods of the swamps and leaves 
 many miles between him and the place where there 
 is a possibility of danger. 
 
 The hunters had now been away from the home 
 camp for three days and they were uneasy about 
 the welfare of the horses, which had been picketed 
 out where they could get grass and water. As they 
 approached the camp they caught a glimpse of a man 
 going from the river to the tent. Fearing that bad 
 news from home must have sent this messenger into 
 the swamps, the naturalist hurried forward to greet 
 the visitors. Superintendent Wood, of the Pembina 
 Farm, near Warren, and " Holy Smoke " Bolton had 
 come to pay the hunters a visit, and finding the camp 
 deserted they had taken possession to await the re- 
 turn of the owners. They had had a tiresome trip 
 and tedious search for the camp, and had arrived just 
 after the hunters had gone on their last trip up Moose 
 River. They would have passed the camp had it not 
 been for the little black horse which Wood had sold 
 to Dyche. The superintendent had seen the animal 
 
254 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 feeding in the brush, and supposing it to be a moose 
 had made an hour's stalk and discovered his mistake 
 just as he was about to fire at the animal. The pick- 
 eted horse showed the visitors that they were near 
 camp, and they soon found the place and made them- 
 selves at home. 
 
 The goodly supply of home-made bread, jam, 
 cookies, pies, and the other unwonted delicacies 
 brought by the visitors was greatly relished by the 
 naturalist and his companion. Bolton could only 
 stare, while his ejaculations of " Holy smoke ! " at the 
 rapid disappearance of the good things showed how 
 he came by his nickname. The three days in the 
 swamps had put an edge on the appetites of the 
 hunters that caused an exceedingly rapid diminution 
 of the stock of provisions. But while exertion had 
 improved their appetites, it must be said that their 
 personal appearance had sadly deteriorated, and their 
 visitors were constrained to make many remarks on 
 the subject of tramps. 
 
 As the visitors found little evidence that the hunt- 
 ing had amounted to anything they were disposed to 
 make light of the efforts of the naturalist, and many 
 were the humorous remarks which were passed at 
 the expense of men who would stay two months in the 
 swamps and have nothing to show for it. The hunters 
 contented themselves with silence, but next morning 
 when they took their visitors up the river to the 
 place where the three moose were lying it was their 
 time for laughing, and Wood and Bolton confessed 
 that the trophies were well worth the time spent in 
 capturing them. 
 
THE NATURALIST NEARLY KILLED. 255 
 
 Three days were spent in getting the skins, 
 bones, and meat to camp. Bolton and Wood were 
 ready to return to Warren, and they took a wagon- 
 load of meat out with them to the settlement, where 
 it could be made use of. Bolton was enamoured of the 
 camp life, and loading the wagon with fresh supplies 
 returned to the camp in the swamp. 
 
 Hunting was continued with varying success until 
 the cold November winds froze the swamps solid, and 
 then the specimens were packed and the party started 
 on their return to civilisation. All went well until 
 the party was nearing Loughridge's ranch. Bolton 
 had been driving all day and called to Dyche to re- 
 lieve him while he walked a little to get warm. Just 
 as the naturalist took his seat the horses started and 
 the off wheel of the wagon dropped into a deep rut, 
 while the other side struck a rock. The result was 
 that Dyche lurched forwards, and before he could re- 
 cover himself he had fallen to the double-trees and 
 thence to the ground immediately in front of the 
 wheel, which passed directly across his abdomen, the 
 heavily loaded wagon almost crushing the life out of 
 him. As the front wheel went over him he raised 
 himself so that the hind wheel struck his shoulder 
 and threw him forwards under the wagon, out of the 
 way of more danger. 
 
 The accident was serious and the naturalist was in 
 such pain that he could not bear the jar of the mov- 
 ing wagon. After lying at the ranch two days it 
 was decided to leave the camp effects and specimens 
 at the ranch and make an ambulance of the spring 
 wagon in order that the nearest surgeon could be 
 
256 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 reached. The trip to Pembina Farm was made, and 
 two weeks' rest there so improved the condition of the 
 patient that he concluded to go back into the woods 
 instead of following out his intention of returning 
 home at once. A team was hired to bring in the 
 specimens from Loughridge's ranch, and after these 
 were packed and shipped home, Dyche made his ar- 
 rangements for a trip to the Lake of the Woods with 
 Brown and a hunt with the Chippewa Indians. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 With the Indians— How Indians Hunt Big Game— The Par- 
 allel Trails — Indian Superstitions — A Potent Beverage — 
 Moose all " Nickoshin " — Return to Civilisation. 
 
 )T was a lonesome road which the hunters 
 travelled to War Road River. Ice cov- 
 ered the swamps, but it was not firm 
 enough to support the heavily laden 
 wagons, many of which were passed sticking fast 
 in the mud, their owners patiently waiting for a 
 hard freeze, so that they might get through the 
 swamps on the surface. Every camp was full of 
 moose-hunters who had strange tales to tell of their 
 adventures and prowess, but little to show. They 
 knew all about moose-hunting, and found such ready 
 listeners in Dyche and Brown that they were dis- 
 posed to " talk large " for the benefit of the strangers. 
 The naturalist and his companion pushed on and 
 finally reached Brown's little cabin, near the village 
 of the Chippewas. Dyche was still very sore from 
 the effects of his fall, and while Brown busied him- 
 self in cleaning the cabin and making it habitable, the 
 naturalist endeavoured, through the medium of an in- 
 terpreter, to make arrangements with the red men for 
 a hunt. The Indians flocked to the cabin to see the 
 new-comers, but they were suspicious of all white 
 
 257 
 
258 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 men, for their experience with traders had taught 
 them that white men were not all honest. 
 
 Dyche used every argument that he could bring to 
 bear, but with no apparent success. He even offered 
 to pay full price for the game that he killed, as well as 
 that killed by the Indians. He was willing to buy 
 everything killed during the trip, and in order that 
 there might be no doubt about it he offered to leave the 
 money with any trader whom the red hunters knew. 
 All his talk seemingly had no effect. The Indians 
 were shy and made many signs to each other, grunt- 
 ing out their monosyllables and evidently not con- 
 vinced that they could accommodate the naturalist. 
 Finally the interpreter told Dyche that they were dry. 
 "Too much talk, too little firewater." The savages 
 puffed hard at their stone pipes when told that the 
 hunters did not have any a'nd did not use any. 
 
 As soon as Dyche and Brown finished their supper 
 they began preparations for sleeping, as they were 
 both tired from the day's exertions. The Indians 
 took the hint and silently filed out of the cabin. By 
 daylight the Chippewas were prowling around the 
 cabin, and at the first sign that the hunters were 
 awake, the red men crowded in and sat around the 
 fire watching the preparations for breakfast. 
 
 Dyche spent the entire day in an attempt to reach an 
 agreement with the Indians, but made little progress. 
 The Chippewas were perfectly willing to hunt for 
 him and sell him their game, but did not like the idea 
 of his being with them on the trail. They could not 
 understand why he desired to go along. The natu- 
 ralist patiently explained over and over again that it 
 
WITH THE INDIANS. 269 
 
 was necessary for him to skin the animals and pre- 
 pare the specimens. He told them what he desired to 
 do with the game, and as Brown had mounted several 
 birds here during one of his previous visits, the ex- 
 planations were easily understood, but the red men 
 were unwilling to give in. Their obstinacy was 
 finally overcome, however, and they agreed that 
 Dyche should go with them. Maypuck, the chief, 
 Kakagens (Little Raven) , Machiveness, and Gib, the 
 interpreter, were to make up the party. The chief 
 could speak a few words in English, but the inter- 
 preter was necessary. 
 
 While these arrangements were being made Dyche 
 spent much of his time in visiting the Indian village 
 and studying the home life of the Chippewas. The 
 village was composed of log-cabins and tepees cov- 
 ered with coarse grass and birch bark. The princi- 
 pal occupation of the tribe was fishing, and the main 
 food-supply was fish and a peculiar black rice found 
 growing around the lake. The squaws made nets 
 and prepared the fish and the skins of game while 
 the bucks lay around doing much smoking and 
 no work. The Indian is tireless on the chase, but 
 he thinks his work done when the animal is slain 
 and he leaves the labor at the camp to his squaw. 
 Brown had been here often before, and he said that in 
 the spring the Indians varied their diet of fish and 
 rice with the eggs of aquatic birds, which bred in 
 great numbers in the vicinity. The stage of incuba- 
 tion of the eggs cut no figure at all in the case, the In- 
 dians rather giving preference to those in which 
 the young bird was about to break through the shell. 
 
260 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 The village was alive with wolfish dogs, whose 
 principal occupation seemed to be fighting against 
 every other dog in the neighbourhood over the 
 scant scraps left by the Indians. As the food re- 
 fused by an Indian is barely good enough for a dog, 
 the animals had a hard time in getting a sufficient 
 supply to keep life in their bodies through the win- 
 ter. While there was no danger of their attacking 
 the hunters, yet it was necessary carefully to guard 
 the camp to prevent their depredations. 
 
 Many of the squaws sat hour after hour on the ice 
 of the lake, fishing, either with hooks and lines or 
 with nets which they ran under the ice and left for 
 two or three days at a time. When a pickerel or 
 white fish was caught the woman jerked it out 
 on the ice and killed it with a blow of an axe. 
 These fish were cured and those that were not sold 
 to the traders were eaten. Dyche walked to the 
 edge of the lake to witness the fishing operations of 
 the squaws, but as soon as he approached, the women 
 gathered up their lines and blankets and made a dash 
 for the village. Gib, the interpreter, laughed at the 
 incident and explained their actions by saying that 
 they were all young squaws and were afraid of a 
 man. 
 
 Dyche supposed that all arrangements were now 
 complete, but he was greatly surprised to find that the 
 Indians made no preparations for departure. They 
 now said that they thought he would not keep his 
 agreement about paying for the animals killed by 
 himself. There was another long pow-wow, and at 
 last he was able to convince them that he would do 
 
WITH THE INDIANS. 261 
 
 everything that he had promised. He offered to leave 
 the money with Brown or any other trader whom they 
 knew, but just as the party started they decided not to 
 trust the traders, but told the naturalist to keep the 
 money himself and pay it to them when the animals 
 were killed. With this understanding the party filed 
 out of the village, Maypuck drawing the sled on which 
 was packed the camp equipment. 
 
 Dogs are the usual draught animals of the Indians, 
 and when Dyche asked why they were not used on 
 this trip the response was: 
 
 " Dog no nickoshin [no good]. Too much brush." 
 
 The Chippewas found a malicious pleasure in travel- 
 ling fast, apparently to try the mettle of the naturalist, 
 whose side was still painful and who kept up with his 
 red companions with much difficulty during the first 
 few days of the trip. It was now very cold, the tem- 
 perature going as low as ten and fifteen degrees below 
 zero every night. During the day Dyche's mustache 
 and eyebrows froze solid as he walked along. The 
 Indians were warmly dressed in heavy clothing made 
 from blankets, and Maypuck, in addition, had a pe- 
 culiar hood of white flannel with a blue fringe run- 
 ning from the front over the top of the head to the 
 neck. This hood was shaped something like the old- 
 fashioned sun-bonnet and was very warm, and 
 highly prized by the chief. As an especial mark of 
 favour he offered to let the naturalist wear it, but 
 Dyche was a little shy of its inhabitants and declined 
 as gracefully as possible. 
 
 The Indians kept up a species of dog- trot all day over 
 the moskegs, keeping out of the dense forests as much 
 
262 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 as possible. This trot was one means of keeping 
 warm, and while it is trying to the muscles of a white 
 man at first, he soon becomes accustomed to it and 
 finds it an easy way to travel. Just about noon the 
 Indian who was leading suddenly stopped and began 
 preparations for building a fire. One of the others 
 went a few yards away and began chopping a hole 
 in the ice at the edge of the swamp. Dyche supposed 
 that he was after water and took a small bucket to 
 the place, but was surprised to see the Indian pulling 
 a large piece of moose-meat from the hole. It had 
 been placed in the water in the course of some previous 
 hunt. The flesh was white on the outside, but in- 
 side it was good and sweet. The Chippewas said that 
 it would keep a long time in the ice-cold water with- 
 out spoiling. As meat is never spoiled for an Indian, 
 this assertion can be taken in an Indian sense. Dyche 
 discovered a bear's skull tied to a tree and started to 
 take it down to examine it, but was prevented by the 
 Indians. On this, as on numerous occasions when 
 he asked concerning peculiar customs and habits of 
 the savages, the only response given him was : " Oh, 
 that's Indian." This was accompanied by a signifi- 
 cant shrug of the shoulders and such an evident desire 
 to avoid the subject that the naturalist did not press 
 his questions. 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon Maypuck called 
 a halt and the Chippewas made camp. A quantity of 
 dry tamarack logs were cut and brought in to keep 
 the fire going during the night. Nights are bitterly 
 cold in this country, and the Indians evidentlj^ did not 
 believe in the doctrine advanced by their brethren of 
 
HOW INDIANS HUNT BIO GAME. 263 
 
 more southern latitudes, " White man make big fire, 
 go 'way off and freeze ; Indian make little fire, stay 
 close by and keep warm," for they made a roaring 
 fire and kept it supplied with wood all night. 
 
 The Indians did little but eat and smoke while in 
 camp. Even in the night they toasted pieces of 
 meat before the fire and ate them. It was so cold 
 next morning that everything in the woods was 
 popping and cracking. Maypuck took Dyche and, 
 with the thermometer marking twenty-eight de- 
 grees below zero, started after moose. The chief 
 moved like a cat through the jungle of brush and 
 fallen timber, but walked rapidly when he reached 
 open places. After travelling in this way about 
 three miles the Chippewa suddenly stopped and threw 
 up his hand as a warning to his companion. Dyche 
 stood perfectly still while the Indian slipped cau- 
 tiously forwards. He worked forwards carefully and 
 at last beckoned Dyche to come on. The trail of a 
 band of moose was seen in the snow, and after exam- 
 ining the tracks closely for several minutes and look- 
 ing at the tops of the willows which had been nipped 
 off, the chief decided that the animals had passed 
 along but a short time previously and had gone north. 
 
 Dyche now learned something in the way of hunt- 
 ing which surprised him, but which he utilised many 
 times later on in his hunting expeditions. Instead 
 of following in the tracks of the moose, the chief 
 walked fully two hundred yards off to one side and 
 then followed along on a line parallel with the trail 
 of the animals. He moved very cautiously but very 
 rapidly for about a mile and then crawled towards a 
 18 
 
264 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 bunch of willows, through which the trail evidently 
 ran. So carefully did the Indian go that Dyche was 
 sure there were moose in the willows, but this was 
 not the case. The Indian was taking no chances, 
 and he used every precaution just as if he was sure he 
 was crawling up on the game. The bunch of willows 
 and killikinic showed many signs of the recent pres- 
 ence of the moose. 
 
 Maypuck took a small stick, placed it in the 
 trail and broke it, pointing to Dyche 's foot and shak- 
 ing his head. The naturalist understood readily 
 enough that he must not break sticks on the trail. 
 The chief now took up Dyche's foot and placed it di- 
 rectly in the track of his own moccasin, indicating 
 that only one trail must be made, in order to lessen the 
 danger of breaking twigs. Having thus cautioned 
 his companion, the Indian renewed his stalking with 
 even greater care than he had exercised before. As 
 he approached another clump of willows Dyche was 
 again deluded by the extreme caution displayed by 
 the Chippewa, who crawled to the thicket as if creep- 
 ing up on an animal in sight. When the Indian be- 
 gan examining the place Dyche went up to him and 
 found three beds where moose had been lying but a 
 short time before. As the moose had walked away 
 they were evidently not frightened by the hunters. 
 
 Maypuck examined everything very carefully. 
 His next move was a puzzle to Dyche. The Indian 
 took the naturalist by the coat and pointed in the 
 direction the moose had gone, and then at the tracks. 
 Dyche could not understand. Maypuck sat on a log 
 and smoked. After finishing this he again went 
 
THN PARALLEL TRAILS. 265 
 
 through the coat-pulling operation, but his meaning 
 was still hidden, so Dyche took the red man's coat and 
 repeated the sign. May puck smiled at this, took an- 
 other smoke, and said : 
 
 " Camp nickoshin." 
 
 Dyche nodded his head, after which the Indian 
 smoked awhile and said ; 
 
 " Moose nickoshin. " 
 
 Again Dyche nodded his head in approval and the 
 Indian smoked for a moment or so longer. Finally 
 the chief put up his pipe, got up from the log, say- 
 ing " Camp nickoshin," and started off in that direc- 
 tion. After a tramp of eight miles in an almost 
 straight line, they reached camp just at dark. The 
 naturalist now sought an explanation from Gib of 
 the strange actions of the chief, and found that May- 
 puck was trying to find out whether he wished to 
 follow the moose or return to camp. 
 
 The other Indians reached camp before dark, Ka- 
 kagens being the last to come in. There was blood on 
 his hands and coat and he reported that he had killed 
 a cow moose. Next morning camp was moved to the 
 place where the cow was lying, and the day was spent 
 by Dyche and Brown in skinning the animal and 
 caring for the specimen. The moose had frozen solid, 
 and it was necessary to carry the legs to the fire and 
 thaw them out before they could be skinned. 
 
 Dyche found that a small hole had been cut in the 
 neck of the cow and a piece of tobacco had been in- 
 serted therein. Gib said this was always done, but 
 when the naturalist asked for the reason and why a 
 piece of the moose was decorated with rags or stream- 
 
266 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 ers and hung to a tree, he received the usual shrug 
 of the shoulders and the reply that it was " Indian." 
 
 The party spent a week in this locality, but it was 
 so bitter cold that little game was found. The ther- 
 mometer marked twenty-eight degrees below zero 
 nearly the whole time that they were in the woods. 
 Many small fur-bearing animals, such as martens and 
 foxes, were killed, and the Indians appeared fond of the 
 flesh of the former, but Dyche found that it was very 
 tough and tasted like an old rabbit. In addition to his 
 other apparel, each Indian had a robe made from the 
 skins of the white snow-shoe rabbits which were found 
 in great numbers in the woods. The skins were cut 
 into strips about an inch wide, the strip being cut 
 continuously around the skin, making one string. 
 These strings are then made into a triple pleat, or 
 braid, and these braids are sewed together as thrifty 
 housewives sew carpet-rags into rugs. This is done 
 until the robe is as large as an ordinary blanket, and 
 the Indians then have a warm robe in which they 
 wrap themselves at night. 
 
 The evenings of Indian hunters are spent much 
 after the manner of white hunters ; stories are told 
 and jokes passed, while laughter is frequent and pro- 
 longed. AU the while the moose-meat is not neg- 
 lected, and every man in the party helps himself to 
 delicacies. From an Indian point of view the finest 
 tidbit of the moose is a piece of intestine, nicely 
 cooked by boiling. The intestines are stripped and 
 placed in a pot, where they are boiled until they as- 
 sume the appearance of huge wrinkled snakes. The 
 chief then passes the dish around, apportioning a 
 
INDIAN SUPERSTITIONS. 267 
 
 share to each member of the party. Dyche was 
 honoured with the part which was considered the 
 bonne bouche, and after he got it he was in a quan- 
 dary. He did not like to refuse, for he feared he 
 would insult the chief, yet he could not coax his 
 stomach to receive the morsel. He had eaten many 
 Indian dishes much against his will, but he felt that 
 the time had come to draw the line. He thankfully 
 accepted his portion and then began to devise 
 a way of escape. Cutting a stick, he inserted it into 
 the delicacy and placed it before the fire to roast, 
 telling Gib that he preferred it that way. He was 
 in no hurry about it, and by the time it was well 
 done the Indians had finished eating and had 
 scattered through the woods. Now came the longed- 
 for opportunity, and as the last Indian turned his 
 back the stick slipped and the obnoxious piece feU 
 into the fire, where it was soon reduced to ashes. 
 
 As provisions, excepting moose-meat, were almost 
 exhausted, it was decided to return to the spot where 
 the toboggans had been left at the first camp. Moose- 
 meat is good eating, but the white men found that it 
 became very distasteful when there was nothing to go 
 with it. Indians eat their meat without salt, but when 
 thej^ discovered that Dyche carried a little bag of salt 
 in his pocket, the red men became persistent beggars 
 for it. In fact, the naturalist discovered that there 
 was nothing they did not want and beg for when 
 they saw others have it. 
 
 When the packs were adjusted and the party was 
 ready to start back Maypuck motioned to Dyche to 
 lead the way. The latter shook his head, but the In- 
 
268 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 dians stood back and waited. Gib explained that if 
 Dyche did not lead they would not go back with him. 
 Thinking that he had another superstition to contend 
 with, the naturalist took the lead and started off at a 
 rapid gait. The Indians carried heavy loads, and as 
 Dyche took the usual dog-trot on the trail the red 
 men followed closely in his tracks. Dyche was a lit- 
 tle puzzled at first, but by careful watching he saw 
 sufficient signs of the old trail to convince him that 
 he was taking the right direction, and at last, when 
 he saw traces of one of the camps at the edge of a 
 moskeg, he began to increase his speed. As the 
 Indians had had so much sport with him when 
 they first left the village, he concluded to return the 
 compliment and show what a white man could do 
 when he tried. Faster and faster he went until he 
 was almost running, with the Indians stringing out 
 in single file behind him. 
 
 Looking back occasionally, he noticed that his red 
 companions were strung out for fully half a mile. 
 May puck being the nearest, two hundred yards away. 
 The sight so encouraged the naturalist that he put 
 forth an extra burst of speed and soon had the sat- 
 isfaction of seeing a clear track behind him with 
 not an Indian in sight. He dashed across the clear- 
 ing at full speed and reached the camp with only 
 Maypuck showing at the edge of the woods, three 
 hundred yards away, and coming at a dead run. 
 Dyche quickly started a fire and began heating 
 water in his tin cup. When the chief reached him 
 the water was hot, and the hunter poured into it a 
 quantity of extract of ginger. This he drank and 
 
A POTENT BEVERAGE. 269 
 
 then handed the bottle and cup to the Indian, who 
 came up panting and perspiring. The chief gave 
 a grunt and threw his pack on the ground. Taking 
 the proffered cup and bottle, he set the cup on the 
 ground and turned the bottle to his lips, swallowing 
 half its contents at one gulp. He returned the 
 bottle with a sigh and said : 
 
 "Nickoshin." 
 
 Dyche explained by signs that it was " nickoshin " 
 for Maypuck but not for the others. The chief un- 
 derstood and grinned, and said not a word about the 
 bottle when the rest of the party came stringing in. 
 As a reward Dyche afterwards allowed him to finish 
 the bottle. Dyche no longer wondered at the ability 
 of an Indian's stomach to digest cartilages and even 
 small bones, for a stomach that could stand half a 
 bottle of strong extract of ginger at one swallow 
 could digest almost anything. The Indians all reached 
 camp at last and fell to talking and gesticulating 
 about the wonderfully fast walking of the white 
 man. Not one of them showed the least sign of 
 displeasure at the incident, but, on the contrary, they 
 seemed to think more of Dyche for his great endur- 
 ance and speed. 
 
 The party had now been out two weeks, and it was 
 decided to return to the village. The toboggans were 
 loaded and hauled within ten miles of the lake and 
 then unceremoniously left standing on the trail, while 
 the Indians went on to their homes and sent their 
 squaws to bring in the spoils of the chase. Dyche 
 now spent his time preparing his specimens for ship- 
 ment, and meantime he was constantly surrounded 
 
270 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 by an admiring crowd of Indians of all ages and 
 conditions. Dyche was not disposed to drive them 
 away, for he obtained much valuable information re- 
 garding the habits of the moose. It was a new and 
 queer experience for the naturalist to sit with a dozen 
 Indians and Brown and talk of hunting adventures 
 through the medium of an interpreter. 
 
 The moose is the largest member of the deer family 
 and the most awkward in appearance, but at the same 
 time he is the wariest and shyest of them all. An 
 old cow moose, with her ugly head and long ears, 
 looks so much like a mule that new hunters frequent- 
 ly let it go, thinking they have run across some 
 trader's stray animal. When they discover their 
 mistake they make up for it by shooting the next 
 mule they see, under the supposition that it is a 
 moose. One of the most difficult anatomical construc- 
 tions that Dyche ever attempted to mount was the 
 nose of a moose. It consists of such a complication of 
 cartilaginous boxes and partitions as to present many 
 hard problems in taxidermy. The general colour of a 
 moose, when seen at a distance, is black, but on closer 
 inspection it is found to be tinged with red, brown, 
 and gray hairs, the black changing into gray and 
 white on the legs. There are many colour varieties, 
 some being very dark while others- present an ashen 
 appearance. 
 
 Brown told much about the moose that he had 
 learned from actual experience, while Dyche gave in- 
 formation gleaned from books, supplemented by many 
 of his own adventures. This talk was interpreted 
 to the other Indians by Gib and the red men were 
 
MOOSE ALL ""NICKOSHIN." 271 
 
 gradually drawn into the conversation, and they told 
 strange tales of the habits and characteristics of the 
 big animal. 
 
 "I saw an article" in a paper the other day," said 
 Brown, " which gave pictures of the European elk. 
 That animal looked just like our moose. Do they 
 call moose, elk, over there?" 
 
 "Yes," was Dyche's reply. "The European elk 
 corresponds to our moose. They are very near 
 cousins, but our moose is larger and averages darker 
 in colour. The horns of the American moose are said 
 to be more palmated than those of the European or 
 Norwegian elk." 
 
 " Moose are found all through the northern part of 
 the country, are they not?" asked Brown. 
 
 " They formerly ranged over a vast tract of coun- 
 try, from ocean to ocean and from the northern bor- 
 der of the United States to the Alaskan line, where 
 he is still common along the Yukon River and many 
 of its tributaries. They feed on the leaves and small 
 twigs of the trees. I never saw grass or moss in the 
 stomach of moose." 
 
 "Moose eat coarse grass sometimes," interjected 
 Maypuck, who had been following the conversation 
 closely. 
 
 "Maybe that's so," said Dyche, "but I've never 
 found any grass in the stomachs of any that we have 
 killed. In the summer they eat leaves and tender 
 branches and in winter they nip off the ends of limbs 
 of willows and birch and sometimes strip off the 
 bark. The contents of the stomach of a moose in 
 winter looks like sawdust. They may eat sparingly 
 
273 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 of the coarser grass, but I have never seen any indi- 
 cations that they do." 
 
 "There's one thing sure," said Brown; "they are 
 the wildest animal that a man ever attempted to 
 hunt." 
 
 "White man don't know how to hunt," said May- 
 puck. "White man scare moose away; Indian 
 crawl up and kill him." 
 
 "The great trouble appears to be to get within 
 shooting range of the animal. I have followed them 
 through the snow many times, and always found that 
 they had doubled back on their track and lain down 
 where they could see anyone coming on the trail. 
 When I got back to where the animal lay hidden 
 it saw or smelled me at once and went out of the 
 country. Indians do not seem to have any trouble 
 getting them, yet they are not good shots and are 
 armed with old shot-guns usually, which a white 
 man would not carry with him. I know that their 
 weapons are not good for over forty yards, yet they 
 get the game just the same." 
 
 "Indian know how to hunt him," said Kakagens. 
 " Indian no follow trail close like white man. In- 
 dian go 'way off and crawl up close. See moose lay 
 down, shoot him in side. Moose smell good, see 
 good. He walk way wind comes, walk back on trail, 
 lay down see white man coming. Indian no follow, 
 he go round, crawl up at side and shoot moose. White 
 man in a big hurry and scare moose. Indian hunt 
 him two, three days. " 
 
 "I guess that's so," said Dyche. "I found that 
 their beds were always made where they could look 
 
MOOSE ALL ""NICKOSHIN/' 273 
 
 back on the trail, through an open place, with the wind 
 at their back. They appeared to have walked back 
 on the trail to where they could see a man if he was 
 following them and smell him if he came up the other 
 way. This nose, which has been puzzling me so much, 
 appears to be made for the express purpose of smelling 
 everything in the country. Sometimes, however, the 
 moose gets * rattled ' and does not seem to know which 
 way to run. Sometimes they will stand until they 
 are shot at three or four times. How many calves 
 have you seen with one cow. Brown?" asked Dyche. 
 
 " I have seen many old cows with two calves and 
 the Indians have told me that they have seen cows 
 with three calves. The young cows have one calf, 
 but the older and larger cows generally have two. 
 The calves are born about the time poplar trees have 
 leaves the size of squirrels' ears. There is one thing 
 that somewhat puzzles me," continued Brown, "and 
 that is, what becomes of the horns of the moose, 
 which are shed every year. Big bull moose have 
 horns like the tops of trees, yet I have found but few 
 horns that had been shed, and I have been all through 
 the woods during January and February, which is 
 the time they are shed." 
 
 " Moose cover horns up," said Maypuck. " Moose 
 paw moss, dirt, sticks, and snow on horns." 
 
 " Those same horns are mighty queer," said Brown. 
 " It seems to me that no two sets are alike." 
 
 "Well, you are about right there," replied the nat- 
 uralist. " Moose horns are very irregular. I have 
 eighteen sets and they would furnish material for a 
 small book on the subject." 
 
274 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 " There is one thing about the moose that is always 
 the same," said Brown, "and that is that there is no 
 part of him that is lost when an Indian gets hold of 
 him." 
 
 "Moose nickoshin," replied Kakagens. "Meat 
 good, nose good, skin good, bone good, all heap good." 
 
 Dyche had already discovered that this assertion 
 was correct, for none of the animals which had been 
 killed had been wasted. The head is prized as an 
 especial delicacy. The muflOle is tender and even 
 more sweet and delicate than a beaver's tail. Jerked 
 moose-meat is much prized by the Indian and is simi- 
 lar to jerked buffalo-meat, but is not so tough. The 
 hides make strong buckskins, from which the Indians 
 make moccasins. A large hide will make from twelve 
 to fifteen pair of moccasins, which are sold at a dollar 
 and a half a pair. Hides of foetal moose are much 
 sought after by the Indians, who use them for mak- 
 ing tobacco-pouches or tea-bags. 
 
 Moose-stories appeared to be the only subject that 
 any of the party could do justice to, and every night 
 the circle around the fire in the cabin was regaled 
 with something fresh about the animal. In reply to 
 a remark about " yarding, " which is frequently 
 described by Eastern writers, the Indians said that 
 they had never seen more than seven or eight to- 
 gether in a band. As to the stories of hundreds of 
 them assembled in a "yard," which is said to happen 
 in Maine, the Indians shook their heads most ener- 
 getically and said they had never seen it. 
 
 The season was now far advanced, December being 
 half gone. The time for big snows had come, and 
 
RETURN TO CIVILISATION. 275 
 
 Dyche concluded that it would be well to get back to 
 civilisation, where he could be in communication with 
 home. Selling his ponies to a trader, he loaded his 
 camp outfit and specimens on the wagon of a Dane 
 who had come in after a load of fish and returned to 
 Warren. There he found a number of letters from 
 home, all telling of the illness of his boy. This news 
 caused him to cut short his visit and hurry home, 
 which he reached just six months after his departure 
 in June. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 In Colorado— On the Trail of Elk— A Night in the Snow- 
 Deer, but no Elk— Another Wild-Goose Chase— The 
 World's Fair King— The Last Hunt. 
 
 I EVEN months had passed since the re- 
 turn of the naturalist from the swamps of 
 Manitoba — seven months of hard and 
 wearing labor in workshop, laboratory, 
 and class-room. The wind blowing through the 
 trees of the university campus whispered enticing 
 invitations to Dyche to lay aside again, for a brief 
 period, his routine tasks and renew his energies 
 by a sojourn in the mountains. With the invitation 
 came thoughts of those who were his companions in 
 the Cascades, and later he received two letters from 
 these friends urging him to meet them in Denver and 
 go with them to the mountains. 
 
 " Join us if possible, " wrote the judge. " We want 
 to be in the expedition that secures the big bull elk. 
 We were with you when you secured the magnificent 
 collection in British Columbia, and we think we can 
 take you where you can get a World's Fair king. 
 We can get Jim [Jim Kennicott, of Delta, Col.]. We 
 had him last year and know him to be the right man. 
 We have engaged him and six horses for ourselves, 
 and the party will be complete with you. Shall we 
 engage horses for you?" 
 
 276 
 
A mountain king. 
 
IN COLORADO. 277 
 
 It only needed the stimulus of such a letter as this 
 to cause the naturalist to drop all hesitation, and a 
 month later, September 2 2d, Dyche, with the judge 
 and doctor, started from Denver and met Jim, with 
 his band of twelve horses, at Glenwood Springs. No 
 time was lost here, and the train was moving up the 
 trail that same afternoon. 
 
 For three hours the party climbed the mountain, 
 but saw no sign of the cow-trail which had been 
 indicated as a place to turn aside for wood and 
 water and a good camping-place for the night. 
 After nine o'clock a pond was found, and here the 
 train was stopped and camp pitched. While the 
 judge and* Jim arranged the tent the doctor and 
 Dyche went foraging for fuel, and soon returned to 
 camp dragging what they supposed to be the top of 
 a dead tree. When the supposed wood was thrown 
 on the fire it was discovered that the dried bones of a 
 horse would not burn, and a hearty laugh went round 
 at the expense of the professor of anatomy and the 
 physician who could not tell bones from wood. Nor 
 did the joke fail to keep throughout the expedition. 
 
 Supper was followed by those countless tales of 
 hunting adventure which are best told by the blaz- 
 ing camp-fire beneath the mountain pines. All next 
 day they travelled through a beautiful mountain 
 country until five in the afternoon, when a little 
 park, in the middle of which stood two tall pines, 
 was reached. Here was an ideal spot for a camp. 
 That ubiquitous tin can, evidence of the march 
 of civilisation, was found, and near the centre of 
 the park was a miniature monument composed of 
 
278 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 the cans, bottles, and other relies of a party of camp- 
 ers. Rain and snow were falling when the tent was 
 pitched, but such vagaries of the climate are unnoticed 
 by true woodsmen, and after banking and draining 
 the tent the safely ensconced party were soon telling 
 their stories and cracking their harmless jokes at 
 each other's expense. The doctor and judge had tried 
 a cast in the little stream, but trout were shy, and 
 they were unsuccessful in their efforts. Two fine 
 bull elk had been seen crossing the park, and this 
 was sufficient indication that the hunters were now 
 in the elk country. 
 
 Marvine Lake, twelve miles farther on, was 
 reached next day in a blinding snow-storm. Here 
 one little trout was caught after the doctor and the 
 judge had whipped the stream until their arms 
 ached. There appeared to be many fish in the .water, 
 but they were not anxious to try the flies which were 
 cast over them. Another day through rain and 
 snow carried the party to a spot where the snow was 
 cleared off sufficiently to permit the tent to be raised. 
 While the judge and Jim were getting a fire and 
 supper the naturalist and the doctor went hunting. 
 They soon returned empty-handed, but with great 
 stories of the deer they had seen and shot at. 
 
 At nine o'clock next morning the sun was shining 
 and the pack-train was wending its way down Mar- 
 vine River towards White River, which was reached 
 shortly after noon. Here the horses varied the en- 
 tei-tainment by giving an exhibition of what they 
 could do in the way of bucking off the packs. One 
 started it, and the contagion spread until five of them 
 
ON THE TRAIL OF ELK. 279 
 
 were rolling, bucking, and kicking at one time and 
 the packs were in danger of complete demoralisation. 
 
 " Catch old Blackey ! catch old Blackey !" excitedly- 
 called the judge as he ran breathlessly around the 
 pitching and kicking squad. 
 
 " What's the matter with Blackey?" was the ques- 
 tion as the other members of the quartette ran to his 
 assistance. 
 
 " Why, the raspberry jam and pickles are in his 
 pack." 
 
 The fears of the judge were only too well founded, 
 for the jam and pickles became badly mixed, and the 
 only consolation that was afforded the judge in his 
 misfortune was the remark from the doctor that " they 
 are all the better for that." This, however, did not 
 meet the unqualified approval of the judge, who at 
 once laid down a little law as to the conduct of the 
 expedition. It took a full hour to get matters 
 straightened out and all the rest of the day for the 
 members of the party fully to express their opinions 
 of the episode. 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon of the next day 
 the party reached a spot in the heart of the moun- 
 tains near Pagoda Peak which seemed suitable for 
 a prolonged stay. After dinner Jim undertook 
 to arrange the camp while the others went out to 
 look for elk. The judge went east and the doctor 
 north, while Dyche went through the heavy for- 
 est and brush to the northwest. After about two 
 miles of slow travel, he found the fresh track of an 
 elk and began stalking carefully. While moving 
 silently through the underbrush he heard the animal 
 
 19 
 
280 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST, 
 
 start and run. Peering cautiously from his place of 
 concealment, he saw it going at full speed up a ridge 
 about four hundred yards away. Wondering what 
 had startled the elk, the naturalist went to the spot 
 where it had been standing and found the doctor's 
 tracks. The animal had evidently seen or heard the 
 hunter and had not waited to investigate. Darkness 
 now came on and Dyche returned to camp, where he 
 found the doctor and Jim, but the judge had not been 
 heard from. Supper passed and still no judge, and 
 then signal-shots were fired. For an hour this was 
 continued, and then the answer was heard and soon 
 the missing man put in an appearance, almost dead 
 from fatigue. He could barely walk, but was wild 
 with bull-elk fever. 
 
 "See that blood?" he asked, holding up a snow- 
 ball on which were stains of red. " That came from 
 a bull elk which I shot." 
 
 "Did you kill him?" 
 
 " I don't know. I tried to. I saw two bulls and 
 tried to down one of them. I shot twice and then 
 followed the bloody trail until dark. If I had not 
 heard you shoot I would not have seen this camp 
 to-night." 
 
 After a hasty breakfast next morning the whole 
 party started out to help the judge find his elk. 
 Dyche soon separated from the others and followed 
 the fresh track of a mountain lion. The animal 
 was going straight north towards Pagoda Peak. 
 At one place in the snow was a spot where the lion 
 had made a short run followed by several short 
 jumps and then a long spring of at least thirty feet. 
 
ON THE TRAIL OF ELK. 281 
 
 He had been after a deer, but the tracks in the snow 
 showed that he had missed his dinner. 
 
 The naturalist now climbed to the top of Pagoda 
 Peak, a great dome-shaped mountain with steps, or 
 benches, on all sides, and took a survey of the coun- 
 try. All around him were mountains with valleys 
 between. A band of about a dozen elk had been 
 there before him, leaving their fresh tracks in the 
 snow. According to Jim, it is the habit of elk 
 to climb to the top of the highest peak in the neigh- 
 bourhood and survey the whole country, locating the 
 fires of hunters and then laying their plans for the 
 day in such manner that they would keep away from 
 their enemies. 
 
 The clouds, which had been growing heavier all 
 the morning, were now sending down snow. Dyche 
 followed along the ridge for two or three miles, and 
 during a lull in the storm saw a band of elk feed- 
 ing in a grassy park down the mountain-side. The 
 wind was blowing directly towards the animals, but 
 the hunter determined to get close to the band, if 
 possible, and made a long stalk around to the other 
 side of the park. Reaching a spot within a hun- 
 dred yards of them, he lay hidden and began an 
 examination with his field-glass. There were eleven 
 in all, one young bull and the others cows and 
 calves. The bull had a perfect set of horns, but as 
 the beams were light and the animal of only ordi- 
 nary size, the naturalist determined to let this band 
 go and trust to the future to get the exact animal 
 that was wanted. For two hours he lay in the 
 snow, making notes of the movements and pos- 
 
282 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 tures of the animals. He noted the carriage of the 
 head and neck and ears and got a good idea of the 
 appearance of the elk at home. One old cow grazed 
 to within fifty yards of Dyche and then lay down 
 and chewed her cud. Then the bull walked over 
 that way and stood even closer. The temptation 
 to shoot was very great, but the naturalist resisted 
 it. Suddenly three other elk trotted into the park, 
 seemingly under some excitement, which was com* 
 municated to the band and the whole lot went out 
 of the opening at a round trot, moving off up the 
 mountain and making a beautiful picture. 
 
 A depressed feeling came over Dyche as he saw 
 the band going away, and he felt as though some- 
 thing, he knew not what, had gone wrong. Return- 
 ing to camp he found the doctor there, but the judge 
 and Jim were nowhere in sight or within earshot. 
 The doctor was sure the men were lost, as they were 
 still going north through the heavy snow-storm when 
 he had left them early in the afternoon. 
 
 "We gave up that elk after travelling through 
 heavy forests and much down timber, and I came 
 back to Pagoda Peak and got my bearings while they 
 kept going. They will have trouble before they see 
 camp again. But it's all the better for that. Jim 
 knows the mountains and the judge will learn after 
 a few more experiences." 
 
 The doctor's prediction was verified, for several 
 hours passed with no sign of either of the missing 
 men. Signal-shots were fired at intervals and finally 
 an answer was heard, and then the judge came stum- 
 bling into camp about ten o'clock. He was greatly 
 
A NIGHT IN THE SNOW. 28S 
 
 exhausted, and it took the doctor and Dyche half an 
 hour to bring him around to his normal condition. 
 A pint of coffee and a warm supper, however, helped 
 materially. The judge had been thoroughly be- 
 wildered in the storm and lost all bearings. Ho 
 had become separated from Jim and did not know 
 where the latter was. The continued absence of 
 the hunter caused much uneasiness, and signal- 
 shots were fired until long after midnight with 
 no response from the guide. Morning dawned upon 
 an uneasy trio. Jim had not returned, and it was 
 now feared that he might be lying somewhere out on 
 the bleak mountain badly hurt. 
 
 The doctor and Dyche were just preparing to make 
 a search of the mountains when Jim arrived, too 
 tired to talk. He presented a most woe-begone ap- 
 pearance and was completely worn out with the ex- 
 ertions of the previous night. He was so far gone 
 that his face had assumed a deep copper colour and 
 his hands trembled from the strain. A cup of hot 
 coffee, dry stockings and shoes, and careful attention 
 revived him somewhat, and then the doctor said it 
 would be safe to feed him. Jim had been fasting for 
 twenty-four hours, and he soon showed that his ex- 
 haustion did not extend to his appetite. Hot coffee, 
 warm biscuit, and venison soon refreshed him and 
 he was ready to tell the story of his night's adven- 
 tures. 
 
 "Nobody knows where I stayed last night," he 
 said. " I must have travelled over a hundred miles. 
 I kept going as long as I could hold out and then 
 made a fire and sat up with my back to a tree until 
 
284 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 morning. If it had not been for the professor's 
 heavy Norwegian jacket I should have frozen. I'd 
 have given ten dollars for a cup of coffee this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "I think you'd better adopt my plan," said the 
 professor, " if you are going to get caught away from 
 camp much more. I always take a little coffee or tea 
 in my haversack, with a cup and a few biscuit. If 
 you would do that you could always make yourself 
 at least half-way comfortable when you are caught 
 out." 
 
 "I've got a better plan than that," was the reply. 
 "You can punish me if you ever see me out of sight 
 of this camp again while we are on this expedition, 
 unless I'm after the horses." 
 
 " Do you know what the professor and I have de- 
 cided to do with you and the judge?" asked the 
 doctor. 
 
 " It would be hard to tell what you'd do." 
 
 " We've decided to put a bell on you and hobble 
 the judge, and then we'll not have so much trouble 
 worrying over you tramps." 
 
 " Well, I believe it would be a good scheme, and 
 if you ever catch me out of sight of camp again you 
 can bell me," said Jim. 
 
 The judge had been silently dressing his bruised 
 feet during this conversation, and now held up his 
 ankle, which showed marks similar to those on a 
 hobbled horse, and remarked : 
 
 " See there ! that foot looks as if it had been wear- 
 ing hobbles for a week, and I'm sure it will hobble 
 for a week more." 
 
DEER, BUT NO ELK. 285 
 
 As it had taken forty-six shots to bring in the 
 men, the camp was called Camp Forty-six, and then 
 three days were spent in rounding up the horses and 
 waiting for the judge and Jim to become able to travel. 
 So much shooting had scared the game from that 
 immediate vicinity, and it was decided to find new 
 hunting-grounds. 
 
 A day's journey over mountains difficult of as- 
 cent carried the party across the range. Just before 
 they reached a suitable camping-place a young buck 
 jumped up and started to run, but a bullet from 
 Dyche's rifle cut short its career. A day was now 
 spent in examining the country for signs of elk. A 
 trip of eight or ten miles west, through a section in- 
 terspersed with numerous little grassy parks, showed 
 that few hunters ever reached this part of the moun- 
 tains. Deer stood in herds, almost as gentle as do- 
 mestic cattle. More than a hundred were seen in half 
 a day, and the presence of man did not appear to dis- 
 turb them in the least. As Dyche was not after deer 
 he did not kill any, but devoted much time to watch- 
 ing their actions and pose as they stood or fed in 
 the parks. 
 
 As there were few signs of elk it was determined 
 to retrace the trail over which they came and 
 return to the country north of Pagoda Peak. The 
 horses got through the forest with great difficulty 
 owing to the snow, which caused them to slip and 
 stumble. The progress was slow, but a beautiful lit- 
 tle park was finally reached. It was hidden away in 
 the mountains and was an ideal spot for a camp. 
 The tent was pitched and preparations were made for 
 
386 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 a long stay. All were up early next morning, and as 
 soon as breakfast was finished all except Jim went 
 on a hunt for elk. The doctor and Dyche returned, 
 unsuccessful, about noon, but the judge did not come 
 in. His feet were still in poor shape for travelling, 
 and he had intended to make but a short hunt. 
 Jim now began to worry over his absence, and 
 as the afternoon wore on with no return of the wan- 
 derer, the uneasiness was shared by the natural- 
 ist and the doctor. The latter walked along the 
 base of Pagoda Peak in the direction taken by 
 the judge, while Dyche went down a small stream 
 along the valley. A little curling smoke about a mile 
 below attracted the attention of the naturalist, and, 
 in the hope that it might be the judge camped for the 
 night, he made his way to it, reaching the place after 
 dark. There was a deserted camp-fire smouldering at 
 the end of a log, while a few spruce boughs piled 
 against a tree indicated that someone had spent a 
 night there not long before. After an examination 
 Dyche became convinced that this was the spot where 
 Jim bad spent the night when he had walked that 
 "hundred miles." His surmise was proven correct 
 when Jim afterwards saw the place and recognised it. 
 Not a sign of the judge could be found, and it was 
 with a feeling of great anxiety that preparations were 
 made for the night. Signal-shots were fired at inter- 
 vals until midnight, but there was no response. 
 Morning dawned upon a trio of very anxious hunt- 
 ers. A council of war was held, and it was decided 
 that a general search should be made if the missing 
 man did not return by eleven o'clock. Dyche could 
 
ANOTHER WILD-GOOSE CHASE. 287 
 
 not rest until that time, and so he took his gun and 
 went for a short hunt. As he returned he recognised 
 the judge's familiar form seated by the fire. The 
 judge said he had been out in the woods listening to 
 a bull elk bugling. 
 
 " I went to the top of the peak, and after taking a 
 good look at the country started back to camp. I 
 got on the wrong side of the ridge and went about 
 three miles northeast, when I should have gone north- 
 west. About the time I discovered that I was going 
 wrong I heard a bull elk blowing his bugle down in 
 the valley, and this made me forget everything else. 
 I followed the noise but failed to obtain a glimpse of 
 the animal, and by that time it was growing dark. I 
 was in a deep spruce forest, and you know how easy it 
 is to get mixed up in such a place. My feet were in 
 such a condition that I did not propose to go wander- 
 ing around in the dark. I was not lost, but just too 
 tired to go to camp. I made me a bed and kept the 
 owls company for the rest of the night. That elk 
 was bugling all night long. When daylight came 
 I went back to the top of the peak and soon located 
 camp." 
 
 "That's a good story," said the doctor, "but he 
 don't tell all of it. Jim and I started out for Pagoda 
 Peak this morning, thinking we might find the judge. 
 We had gone but a little way when we saw a man 
 crawling along. We at once thought that the judge 
 had been badly hurt and had been crawling back to 
 camp all night. We soon found, however, that the 
 man was making a stalk on one of the horses, and if 
 we had not rushed up just in time he would have 
 
288 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 shot one, sure. We disarmed him and brought him 
 to camp, where venison steak, hot coffee and biscuit 
 soon brought back his reason. But he's all the bet- 
 ter for that. There's many a worse man than the 
 judge — in the penitentiary." 
 
 "Begorra, I can't say as much for the doctor," 
 was the judge's sole reply. 
 
 Snow fell all day Sunday and the day was spent in 
 camp. Monday found a fine "tracking" snow on 
 the ground. Dyche was anxious for a hunt, but the 
 other members of the party were anxious to get away 
 from "Lost Park," as the place had been named. 
 The altitude was too high and camp was too hard to 
 find to suit them. As Dyche had brought them into 
 the place it fell to him to get them out. The train 
 was packed and started, the naturalist in the lead. 
 A lion's track in the snow was too great a temptation 
 to resist, and the leader of the cavalcade followed off 
 after the beast. A short distance farther on an elk 
 winded him and started through the woods. The 
 tracks indicated that it was a big bull, and as that 
 was just what he had come for, he took up the 
 new trail. Feeling that the other members of the 
 party would understand his purpose when they saw 
 his tracks crossing those of the elk, he started to 
 hunt it Indian fashion, as he had been taught in 
 the swamps at the Lake of the Woods. Taking up 
 a line about two hundred yards to the leeward, 
 Dyche slipped along through the woods towards 
 a point where he was confident the animal would 
 cross to the other side of the canon. Going carefully 
 to the bottom of the canon, he went towards the trail 
 
THE WORLD'S FAIR KING. 289 
 
 and found where the bull had crossed over. On a 
 little hill were signs that the bull had stopped 
 and looked back over his trail and then, seeing that 
 he was not followed, had moved off more leisurely. 
 A long grove of quaking asps led up the side of the 
 mountain along a branch of the Williams River, 
 and up this branch Dyche crept, carefully, towards a 
 grove. Just as he raised his head to take a look be- 
 tween the trees the elk started at a round trot. 
 Quickly throwing the Winchester forwards, the nat- 
 uralist sent a ball after the animal, which had the 
 effect of accelerating its pace. A second shot was 
 fired which caused the bull to break into a run. Now 
 it came into plain view and a third shot was fired. 
 With the report the animal disappeared over the 
 ridge. 
 
 Hastening to the spot where the elk was last seen, 
 Dyche found the magnificent creature lying dead. 
 He was a grand specimen and well fitted to lead the 
 group which had been begun for the World's Fair. 
 His standing height was just sixty-three inches, while 
 his girth was seventy -five inches just behind the shoul- 
 der. His girth about the abdomen measured eighty- 
 three inches. He was not phenomenal in size or 
 length of horns, but his proportions were perfect and 
 his skin was at its very best, being especially rich in 
 colour. By the time the other members of the party 
 reached the spot all the measurements had been taken 
 and the naturalist was skinning his prize. As the 
 pack-train came in sight the doctor gave a cheer. His 
 first question showed what was uppermost in every- 
 one's mind. 
 
290 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 " Is he a World's Fair king?" 
 
 An affirmative answer brought out a chorus of 
 hurrahs and a storm of congratulations. The pack- 
 train was stopped and everyone assisted in skinning 
 the elk. There was a little blood in the animal's 
 mouth, but not a bullet-hole could be found in the 
 skin anywhere. Thereupon Dyche was subjected to 
 much chaffing for scaring an elk to death. These 
 quizzing remarks continued until it was found that 
 a bullet had passed directly through the heart. The 
 glory of the exploit was enhanced a short time after, 
 when the naturalist shot a badger without drawing 
 blood ; the bullet struck the rock directly under the 
 animal, killing it by the concussion. 
 
 Camp was made two miles farther east on the 
 north branch of Williams River. A high mountain 
 rose to the north. To the west was the range over 
 which they had just come and which was made beau- 
 tiful by the vast forests of spruce and fir. To the 
 east and SQuth the country opened out into a valley, 
 giving a view of ten or fifteen miles of changing 
 lights and shades through the openings in the moun- 
 tains. The judge at once christened the place Camp 
 Grand View. 
 
 Next day, while Dyche was preparing the skeleton 
 of his specimen, the doctor, who had accompanied 
 him, rambled off on a little hunt. The naturalist saw a 
 band of elk emerge from the timber and walk towards 
 the doctor, who hid in a ravine at the foot of a little 
 ridge. A number of cows and calves were at the 
 head of the band, and as they came down the ridge 
 they smelled powder and turned down the side of the 
 
THE LAST HUNT. 291 
 
 mountain into the woods. Following the cows and 
 calves came two fine bulls. They walked on down the 
 ridge, not suspecting danger, in plain sight of Dyche. 
 The latter was just wondering what had become of 
 the doctor, when he saw a puff of smoke and heard 
 the gun crack. One of the elks began running in a 
 circle and soon fell to the ground, while the other 
 disappeared in the timber. It was a finely propor- 
 tioned animal with a perfect set of horns and a good 
 growth of hair. 
 
 Snow had been falling now for twenty-four hours, 
 and it was possible to hunt without becoming confused 
 by old trails. Dyche started out earlj^ next morn- 
 ing to see what was in the country. He found a bear- 
 track and followed it, even though he knew that he 
 would have little chance of getting it. The bear 
 visited no less than four carcasses of elk lying in 
 the snow, all cows and calves. These had been killed 
 by hunters and left lying just where they fell, not a 
 pound of flesh being taken or an inch of skin cut off. 
 The bear-hunters go through the country killing deer 
 and elk, leaving the carcasses for bait. If a bear 
 visits one of them a week or a month later, the hunt- 
 ers set their traps. 
 
 The camp of some bear-hunters was found, and 
 Dyche went with one of them to look at the remains 
 of a buU elk. The specimen was spoiled and useless 
 to the naturalist except the leg bones and skull. 
 During that day Dyche saw eleven bodies of elk 
 which had been slain for bear-bait. These two bear- 
 hunters were novices and appeared to be out for the 
 fun of the trip more than anything else. They gave 
 
292 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 the naturalist a cordial invitation to spend the night 
 with them. As he was a long way from his own 
 camp and night was coming on, it took but little 
 pressing to induce him to accept. 
 
 The men gave their names as Henry Maybe and 
 Henry Geisler and they had travelled many miles in 
 following bear. They were ready to testify that a 
 bear can travel twenty or thirty miles a day without 
 stopping to rest or eat. After the usual stories of 
 hunting and adventure in the mountains the camp 
 became silent. Dyche had barely fallen asleep 
 when he was aroused by the voice of one of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 " Henry, what is that?" came the startled whisper 
 from one roll of blankets. 
 
 " That sounds just like that bear cub we saw at 
 Meeker," was the reply. 
 
 " Let's get up. Maybe we can catch it." 
 
 Hastily scrambling from their blankets, the two 
 went into the woods in the direction of the noise. 
 Dyche had lost no bear cub and remained in bis blank- 
 ets. The men returned , wondering what it c ould have 
 been. They had barely become settled in their blank- 
 ets when the sound came again. They hastened to 
 the woods with the same result. They now deter- 
 mined to exercise a little ingenuity and surprise the 
 animal. One man remained in the woods while the 
 other returned to the tent. Soon the sound was heard 
 again and the watcher called out : 
 
 " Hurry up, Henry. Here it is. It's up in a tree." 
 
 Henry took his gun and a lantern and for a while 
 all was quiet. After an absence of several minutes 
 
THE LAST HUNT. 293 
 
 they returned to camp, using strange words about 
 "that consamed little owl." 
 
 Returning to Camp Grand View next day, Dyche 
 found that everyone had reached the conclusion that 
 it would be well to leave the place, and several days 
 were spent in travelling and searching for a more 
 suitable spot. Darkness compelled them to stop one 
 night on a high point on the mountains, where the 
 wind blew a perfect gale. The judge gave it the 
 name of Camp Windy Point. A few days were 
 spent here, and Jim made a short expedition and re- 
 ported that he had fired at a large bull elk but had 
 not drawn blood. Next day the doctor and the judge 
 went out on horseback while Jim and Dyche went 
 together on foot. Jim showed where he had seen the 
 elk, but there were no signs of a wounded animal. 
 The trail was followed some distance and then it was 
 decided to return to camp. 
 
 After travelling awhile Dyche sat down for a short 
 rest at the edge of a grassy park. The bugle-call of 
 an elk off in the woods aroused him, and soon he 
 heard a response in an opposite direction. This 
 bugle-call of the elk is perhaps the most peculiar 
 sound emitted by an animal. The elk starts off with 
 a noise similar to that of the squeaking of an old barn 
 door, and this harsh noise is followed by a bawl as of 
 a cow. This develops into the bray of a mule and 
 winds up with a peculiar, clear bugle note or call, 
 which rings full and free through the woods. It is 
 a sound which never fails to excite hunters and set 
 their blood to bounding. The naturalist and Jim 
 were just preparing to begin a stalk when an elk 
 
294 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 emerged from the woods on the opposite side of the 
 park. It was an old cow, and soon others appeared. 
 They trooped, out of the woods until fully sixty were 
 in sight. Then from another point, off to one side, 
 thirty more came out. All these were cows and 
 calves, with a very few young bulls. Now the old 
 bulls began to make their appearance, the last to come 
 into the park. This immense band was counted, 
 and it was found that there were one hundred and 
 twenty-five. 
 
 The wind was blowing directly from the hunters 
 towards the band, and a consultation showed a diver- 
 sity of opinion as to the proper mode of procedure. 
 Jim was a good woodsman, but the sight of so many 
 elk at one time evidently " rattled " him and gave 
 him an attack of elk fever. He strongly opposed 
 Dyche*s plans for a long stalk which would take 
 them around and ahead of the band where they could 
 lie in ambush and select the finest of the lot, but in- 
 sisted on crawling under poor cover directly down 
 towards them. He was afraid to let them get out of 
 his sight lest they should go off and never be seen 
 again. Much against his will, Dyche consented to 
 try Jim's plan, for he saw that any other course 
 might cause the excited hunter to make an untimely 
 movement which would spoil the entire stalk. 
 
 Jim's plan was followed, and then it was found 
 that they had to retrace their steps and begin over 
 again. Three times was this done before Jim became 
 convinced that Dyche 's idea was the better. But now 
 it was almost too late, for the band had fed near the 
 spot where the naturalist desired to hide. The ani- 
 
THE LAST HUNT. 295 
 
 mals were now between two ridges, moving slowly. 
 If the hunters could get ahead of the band they could 
 examine the elk at their leisure and see if the one 
 they wanted was in the herd. If there was a bull 
 larger than the one killed by Dyche, he wanted it to 
 lead the World's ¥^\r group. If not, the naturalist 
 preferred that none be killed, for he had a sufficient 
 number of specimens of aU other kinds. 
 
 After losing much time in following out Jim's 
 vagaries they reached the spot where Dyche desired to 
 go at the beginning of the stalk, but they had been 
 so long on the way that the animals were there 
 ahead of them and were passing into the ravine. 
 As the hunters crawled through the underbrush, 
 their ears were assailed by a queer combination of 
 grunting and squealing, made by the elk as they 
 fed along through the park. Now and then a bull 
 raised his head and gave his bugle-call, and the 
 response came from the far side of the band. 
 The hunters at last reached a point about a hundred 
 yards from the game, but the trees and brush were so 
 intertwined that it was impossible to see beyond 
 them. Occasionally a head or a portion of the body 
 of an elk came into view, but it was evident that 
 the men must get closer if they wished to see the 
 entire band. Slipping off their shoes and jackets they 
 crawled slowly forwards for about fifteen yards. Sud- 
 denly Jim jumped to the top of a log which barred 
 the way and was in fuU view of the band of elk. 
 
 About fifty cows and calves were feeding directly 
 
 towards him, and as he appeared on the log the 
 
 animals started on the run, frightening the others as 
 20 
 
296 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 they went through the park at full speed. Jim began 
 shooting at the fleeing elk as fast as he could work 
 the lever of his Marlin. Dyche could see nothing, 
 and in trying to get around the log where the way 
 would be clear, he lost considerable time. Jim went 
 on the run through the woods and Dyche followed, 
 reaching the edge of the timber just in time to see 
 the band disappearing at the lower end of the ra- 
 vine. Jim was running at full speed down the ridge 
 to the right of the ravine and Dyche went on the 
 one to the left. After the first alarm the elk bunched 
 and were running together in a compact mass. Into 
 this bunch Jim now began shooting at a distance of 
 only fifty yards. He worked his gun as rapidly as 
 possible and poured balls into the band like leaden 
 rain. 
 
 Dyche carefully surveyed the band and singled out 
 a bull which appeared to be much larger than any of 
 the others. Towards this animal he turned his at- 
 tention, shooting at it until it left the band and went 
 into the woods alone. The band had now gone 
 around the hill on which Jim was standing, and 
 Dyche heard more shooting and then all was still. 
 
 " Prof, why ain't you shoo tin' ?" shouted the excited 
 mountaineer. 
 
 The naturalist was disgusted and mortified and jet 
 amused at the way the hunt had ended. Only one 
 elk was needed and that one must be a monster, but 
 Jim had been indiscriminately slaughtering the ani- 
 mals at short range, when there was no possible way 
 of utilising the flesh. 
 
 Dyche now hurried across to the place where Jim 
 
THE LAST HUNT. 297 
 
 had been standing and saw the latter about four hun- 
 dred yards farther on and the elk in a bunch about 
 seventy-five yards below him. Jim had used his last 
 cartridge and was watching the band, which ran 
 about a hundred yards farther and then stopped on 
 a knoll. Another run took them to the woods and 
 then they were out of sight. Jim went back after 
 the shoes and jackets and told the naturalist of the 
 number of big ones he had killed. It was decided 
 to go back to camp, as it was almost dark, and re- 
 turn in the morning for the dead elk. 
 
 The evening was spent by Jim and Dyche in tell- 
 ing over and over again what they had done and 
 what a lot of fine bulls would be found dead. Early 
 in the morning the whole party went to the field of 
 action, expecting to find at least a dozen dead elk. 
 A very careful search revealed the fact that not an 
 elk had been killed, while the only evidence that any 
 had been wounded was an occasional drop of blood, 
 which might have come from a sore foot or an injured 
 leg. The trail of the fleeing elk was followed four 
 or five miles, and then Jim was compelled to acknowl- 
 edge that he had missed the whole herd. On the 
 return the judge rounded up a fine bull which had 
 straggled from the band, evidently the one at which 
 Dyche had shot, and took it into camp, thus ending 
 their great elk-hunt in the Rockies. 
 
 Every member of the party was now satisfied with 
 the result of the trip to the mountains, including Jim, 
 who, however, was a little sore over his experience 
 with the big band, and the party was ready to return 
 to civilisation. 
 
298 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 "How large do elk grow?" asked the doctor as 
 thej" were packing the specimens and commenting on 
 the big fellow's size. 
 
 " A full-grown bull sometimes attains the weight 
 of a thousand pounds, but the average is not over half 
 of that. Cows weigh from three hundred to five 
 hundred pounds and have but one calf, which is 
 spotted like a fawn." 
 
 " If the skin was as good as the meat, " said Jim 
 as he helped himself to another rib, " it would make 
 mighty good leather, but it's the poorest part of the 
 animal." 
 
 " That's a fact," replied Dyche ; " the skin is almost 
 worthless and appears to be rotten when tanned." 
 
 "Where is the best place to find elk now?" asked 
 the judge. 
 
 " The range is now restricted to certain favoured 
 spots in the Rocky Mountains, but they formerly 
 ranged from Northern Mexico to British Columbia. 
 A few are found in Minnesota. They live principally 
 on grass and twigs and sometimes bits of the bark 
 of such trees as quaking asps. The European cousin 
 of the elk is undoubtedly the red deer, or stag. Elk 
 will average much larger than the stag, but they are 
 similar in general appearance and when placed in 
 parks together will breed and their offspring will also 
 breed." 
 
 " What a fine team a pair of them would make !" 
 said Jim. " They would take a fellow sailing over 
 the country in great style. " 
 
 • " I've seen that done," said the judge. " Last year 
 it was a common sight in Denver. A. man had a 
 
THE LAST HUNT. 299 
 
 pair of five-year-old bulls hitched to a cart and drove 
 through the streets." 
 
 "Yes," said Dyche, "they are easily broken to 
 harness and seem to take kindly to it, but when thej^ 
 take a notion to run away there is sure to be a gen- 
 eral smash-up." 
 
 The first camp on the return to Denver was made 
 at Trapper's Lake, and while hunting near the 
 water Dyche saw hundreds of trout disporting 
 themselves. He threw stones at them until his 
 arm was tired, and then went to camp with his 
 story and was laughed at for his pains. The 
 judge looked at the professor quizzically, and the 
 doctor said he had been pretty good at fish-stories 
 himself in his day. Dyche took the chaffing and also 
 the judge's fishing-rod and returned to the lake, the 
 doctor following out of curiosity. The water was 
 fairly alive with the speckled mountain trout, and 
 the lines could hardly be thrown in fast enough to 
 satisfy the fish. At the end of an hour of this sport 
 they returned to camp with seventy fine fish in a sack. 
 They weighed just fifty pounds, and the judge, who 
 was admittedly the best fisherman in the State, said 
 it was the finest catch he had ever seen. 
 
 The month had been most pleasantly spent by the 
 whole party, and the camp-fires of a naturalist were 
 things of the past. At Denver the naturalist parted 
 from his friends, promising that at some future day 
 they would meet and take another and longer hunt 
 in the mountains. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Results of the Camp-Fires — The Specimens Obtained, 
 
 HE camp-fires are dead and the ashes cold. 
 Hundreds of whitened spots surrounded 
 by burned and blackened wood and 
 by bleaching bones may be found from 
 the sand-hills of No-Man's Land and the bleak 
 prairies of western Kansas to the marshes, bogs, 
 and fens of Manitoba; from the pine-covered ridges 
 at the head of the Pecos in New Mexico to the deep 
 forests on Kettle River in British Columbia, where 
 silence reigns supreme. Mountain and plain, swamp 
 and lava-bed have been called upon to contribute their 
 quota, and the work of the naturalist is now changed 
 from active field operations to the preparation of 
 specimens in the laboratory. 
 
 It has not been my purpose to make a book of 
 thrilling adventures, full of exciting hunting-stories, 
 but rather to set forth clearly and truthfully those 
 incidents which impart a peculiar charm to the life 
 of hunters who go to the woods with the true 
 sportsman's instinct and look for game to add 
 something to the knowledge of the world. That the 
 naturalist had many more adventures than those re- 
 corded in these pages can readily be seen by a walk 
 through the storerooms of the Kansas University. 
 
 300 
 
RESULTS OF THE CAMP-FIRES. 301 
 
 Here, piled in apparent confusion, but really classified 
 with the greatest care and labelled so definitely that 
 no chance of error is left, are to be found the thou- 
 sands of specimens which have been obtained not only 
 by his own riile, but also by exchange and by pur- 
 chase from those who spend their lives in the wild- 
 wood haunts of the fauna of the continent. Trap- 
 pers, hunters, traders, prospectors, and Indians have 
 been drawn upon for specimens, as well as for inci- 
 dents showing the peculiarities of each species, and 
 the result is that many specimens of rare, and in 
 some instances extinct, animals have been preserved 
 for the study of future generations. 
 
 In connection with this subject it should be remem- 
 bered that a complete series must embrace a whole 
 family in all stages of development, in order to show 
 all the characteristics and peculiarities of the animal. 
 Not alone are the old male and female specimens neces- 
 sary, but the calves and young of different stages 
 must be shown to give a good idea of the species. 
 Often it has been necessary to collect specimens 
 from widely separated localities in order to exhibit 
 the peculiar differences brought about by environ- 
 ment. 
 
 While the collection now stored at the university 
 may appear large and beyond the requirements of 
 science, it must be remembered that in many in- 
 stances these specimens will probably, in the near 
 future, be the only representatives of those rare spe- 
 cies which are rapidly becoming extinct. Eight years 
 ago only four specimens of the Rocky Mountain goat 
 were to be found in all the museums of the world. 
 
303 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 These were in such condition that they told nothing 
 either of the appearance or the peculiarities or habits 
 of the animal as he is seen in his mountain home. 
 So much hardship attends the hunting of this most 
 rare of all the North American fauna that it is with 
 the greatest difficulty that a single specimen can be 
 obtained, and then the additional labour of getting 
 the game down the almost inaccessible mountain 
 which the animal has chosen for its habitat makes 
 the securing of a single perfect example an event 
 worthy of being chronicled in the scientific journals 
 of the world. The thirty-four complete specimens of 
 this animal secured by Professor Dyche will go far to- 
 wards aiding the future naturalists in their studies. 
 
 While all the expeditions of the naturalist were for 
 the purpose of collecting examples of the larger 
 mammals of the continent, he never lost sight of the 
 fact that he visited places where he was likely to 
 find rare forms of smaller mammals and birds, and 
 he secured thousands of them which, with his larger 
 specimens, form a collection that for excellence can- 
 not be equalled in the whole world. 
 
 A list must of necessity be incomplete, but a par- 
 tial enumeration of the rarest forms will give the 
 reader some idea of the wonderful work that has been 
 accomplished during these expeditions. The Ameri- 
 can bison is now practically extinct as a wild animal. 
 The few remaining herds are so hedged about by law 
 that they are practically domesticated. Fourteen 
 complete specimens of these were secured from the 
 last survivors of the wild herd. Of antelope he has 
 thirty-five specimens, of bear fourteen, mountain lions 
 
THE SPECIMENS OBTAINED. 303 
 
 eleven, elk nineteen, Rocky Mountain sheep forty- 
 five. Rocky Mountain goats thirty-four, moose forty, 
 deer sixty, timber- wolves ten, coyotes twenty-four, 
 foxes twenty-five, including some of the rarest silver 
 and cross varieties, lynxes ten, caribou seven, and of 
 otter, beaver, wolverine, fisher, badgers, woodchuck, 
 raccoons, and smaller animals several hundreds. 
 
 While the money value of the collection has never 
 entered into the consideration of the professor, who, 
 with the true instincts of a naturalist, has been wholly 
 engrossed v/ith the collection of the specimens, it 
 would now be impossible to duplicate the collection 
 for $100,000, and as the animals become scarce and 
 rare this value will increase until within a very few 
 years it will be of incalculable worth. Realising 
 that future generations may look to this collection 
 for the study of rare species, the professor aims to have 
 in addition to the mounted groups, which will stand 
 as silent educators to the masses, a student's series 
 which will be of use to the future naturalist who may 
 have no other means of examining an extinct species. 
 
 Nor is the work complete as the collection now 
 stands. The material on hand is to be increased by 
 the results of other expeditions now in contempla- 
 tion, and these specimens are to be the basis of works 
 on the natural history of North America, the first 
 of which, on ruminants, is now in course of prep- 
 aration. 
 
 Other camp-fires will glow in the deepest wilds of 
 British-Columbian mountains while the naturalist 
 wili seek rare and almost extinct species of that re- 
 gion. Far-off Alaska and even Greenland will be 
 
304 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 called upon to give up tributes of musk- ox and polar 
 bear, while Mexico and the Gulf coast will be drawn 
 upon for phases of animal life peculiar to those sec- 
 tions. 
 
 The ashes of the camp-fires from the Sierra Madre 
 and Sangre del Christo to the Cascade ranges, from 
 the Columbia Biver to the Lake of the Woods, now 
 mark the spots where many happy hours were spent 
 while communing with Nature in her most secret 
 haunts. The sparks are extinct and many rains and 
 snows have beaten the white ash into the cold earth, 
 yet there remain the bright memories which he alone 
 can know who goes to the deep solitudes and sleeps 
 beneath the singing pines. 
 
 "We have taken you through the mountain, prairie 
 land, and swamp ; we have shown you the discomforts 
 as well as tlie pleasures of the life of a naturalist ; 
 we have given you a hunter's fare of venison and 
 camp bread, washed down with black coffee made 
 in a tin cup ; we have laid- you to rest on a bed of 
 spruce boughs and sung you to sleep with the sigh- 
 ing of the wind as it plays through the tree-tops and 
 rustles among the pine-needles. If we have given 
 you one desire for that free life in the woods and 
 mountains or added one iota to your pleasure, we are 
 repaid. 
 
 THE END. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 r\U TINGS AT ODD TIMES. By Charles C. 
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 Rambles about Home." i6mo. Cloth, gilt top, $1.25. 
 
 *' A charming little volume, literally alone with Nature, for it discusses seasons and 
 the fields, birds, etc., with the loving freedom of a naturalist born. Every page reads 
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 NA TURALIST'S RAMBLES ABO UT HOME. 
 By Charles C. Abbott. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
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 pleasantly in this book. Summer and winter, morning and evening, he has been in 
 the open air all the time on the alert for some new revelation of instinct, or feeling, 
 or character on the part of his neighbor creatures. Most that he sees and hears he 
 reports agreeably to us, as it was no doubt delightful to himself. Books like this, 
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 one for boys in particular to breathe." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 A 
 
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 AYS OUT OE DOORS. By Charles C. Abbott. 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
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 a naturalist whose graceful writings have entertained and instructed the public before 
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 after the months of the year. Under ' January ' the author talks of squirrels, musk- 
 rats, water-snakes, and the predatory animals that withstand the rigor of winter; 
 under ' February' of frogs and herons, crows and blackbirds; under * March ' of gulls 
 and fishes and foxy sparrows; and so on appropriately, instructively, and divertingly 
 through the whole twelve." — IS^ew York Sun. 
 
 y^HE FLA YTIME NA TURALIST. By Dr. J. E. 
 -» Taylor, F. L. S., editor of " Science Gossip." With 366 Illus- 
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 and any boy who may read it carefully is sure to find something to attract him. The 
 style is clear and lively, and there are many good illustrations." — Nature. 
 
 'HE ORIGIN OF FLORAL STRUCTURES 
 
 through Insects and other Agencies. By the Rev. George 
 Henslow, Professor of Botany, Queen's College. "With nu- 
 merous Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 "Much has been written on the structure of flowers, and it might seem almost 
 superfluous to attempt to say anything more on the subject, but it is only withm the 
 last few years that a new literature has sprung up, in which the authors have described 
 their observations and given their interpretations of the uses of floral mechanisms, more 
 especially in connection with the processes of fertilization." — From Introduction. 
 
 T 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street 
 
T 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ^HE GARDEN'S STORY; or. Pleasures and 
 
 Trials of an Amateur Gardener. By George H. Ellw anger. 
 
 With Head and Tail Pieces by Rhead. i2mo. Cloth, extra, 
 
 $1.50. 
 
 "Mr, Ellwanger's instinct rarely errs in matters of taste. He writes out of the 
 fullness of experimental knowledge, but his knowledge differs from that of many a 
 trained cultivator in that his skill in garden practice is guided by a refined aesthetic 
 sensibility, and his appreciation of what is beautiful in nature is healthy, hearty, and 
 catholic. His record of the garden year, as we have said, be^ns with the earliest 
 violet, and it follows the season through until the witch-hazel is blossoming on the 
 border of the wintry woods. . . . This little book can not fail to give pleasure to ail 
 who take a genuine interest in rural life."^ — New York Tribune. 
 
 Y^HE ORIGIN OF CULTIVATED PLANTS. 
 J- By Alphonse de Candolle. i2mo. Cloth, $2.co. 
 
 " Though a fact familiar to botanists, it is not generally known how great is the 
 uncertainty as to the origin of many of the most important cultivated plants. ... In 
 endeavoring to unravel the matter, a knowledge of botany, of geography, of geology, 
 of history, and of philosophy is required. By a combination of testimony derived from 
 these sources M. de Candolle has been enabled to determine the botanical origin ai.d 
 geographical source of the large proportion of species he deals with." — The A thetiffum. 
 
 nrHE FOLK-LORE OF PLANTS. By T. F. This- 
 J- ELTON Dyer, M. A. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "A handsome and deeply interesting volume. ... In all respects the book is ex- 
 cellent. Its arrangement is simple and intelligible, its style bright and alluring. 
 ... To all who seek an introduction to one of the most attractive branches of folk- 
 lore, this delightful volume may be warmly commended. — Notes and Queries. 
 
 F 
 
 LOWERS AND THEIR PEDIGREES. By 
 Grant Allen, author of "Vignettes of Nature," etc. Illus- 
 trated. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "No writer treats scientific subjects with so much ease and charm of style as Mr. 
 Grant Allen. The study is a delightful one, and the book is fascinating to any one 
 who has either love for flowers or curiosity about them." — Hartford Cotirant. 
 
 " Any one with even a smattering of botanical knowledge, and with either a heart 
 or mind, must be charmed with this collection of essays."— OzVrt^^ Evening Journal. 
 
 7-^HE GEOLOGICAL HISTORY OF PLANTS. 
 By Sir J. William Dawson, F. R. S. Illustrated. i2mo. 
 Cloth, $1.75- 
 
 " The object of this work is to give, in a connected form, a summary of the develop- 
 ment of the vegetable kingdom in geological lime. To the geologist and botanist the 
 subject is one of importance with reference to their special pursuits, and one on which 
 it has not been easy to find any convenient manual of information. It is hoped that its 
 treatment in the present volume will also be found sufficiendy simple and popular to be 
 attractive to the general reader." — From the Preface. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3. & 5 Bond Street. 
 
T 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 HE WHITE MOUNTAINS: A Guide to their 
 Interpretation. With a Map of the Mountains and Ten Illus- 
 trations. By Rev. JULius H. Ward. i2mo. Cloth, gilt top, 
 $1.25. 
 
 " Books descriptive of the White Mountains are too few. Any lover of the Granite 
 Hills will gladly welcome this valuable addition to White Mountain literature, both for 
 the pleasure he himself will derive from its perusal, and for the good it will do in excit- 
 ing an interest in the minds of strangers. So far as we know, Mr. Ward's is only the 
 sixth of such books. . . . If we were to attempt to classify Mr. Waid's book, we should 
 place it along with that of Starr King, for its sympathetic treatment of the subject. It 
 seems to us, however, to occupy a place not filled by any of them, and to share the 
 merits of all. It is not a guide-book, and yet its systematic airangement and the in- 
 telligent hints in its preliminary chapters give it a real value as a guide to the tourist." 
 — Rev. Ithamar W. Beard, in Wliiie Mountain Echo. 
 
 " Mr. Ward's aim has been something apart from the aims of those who have gone 
 before him. He has sought to write neither a guide-book nor an itinerary. He aimed 
 not at mere description, nor did he permit his imagination alone to guide his pen. 
 His was rather a sympathetic and intelligent attempt to interpret for the contemplative 
 mind the great lessons which these impressive elevations are capable of imparting to 
 men. , . . Mr. Ward's sympathy with his subject is keen and alive. He writes as 
 one who loves Nature profoundly. The faith and devotion of such students we are 
 assured that she never betrays. His in truth is a volume to carry along with one to 
 the mountain and to open and read anywhere. It is also a volume to read at home. 
 Kven those who have not in years looked upon those glorious pageants of mountain- 
 tops and moving clouds will find it of great interest and of much practical service in re- 
 calling their early impressions and suggesting new ones." — New 1 ork Tunes. 
 
 "The author of 'The White Mountains' is a mountain enthusiast possessing keen 
 poetic conception, the hardihood of a mountaineer, and the especial knowledge of a 
 mountain guide. He, therefore, thoroughly covers his chosen field. Little or nothing 
 is left to any future gleaner; for he has studied this region in all its summer moods and 
 wmter tenses, from North Conway to the retreat to Lonesome Lake, from the great 
 wall of the Glen to the heart of the wilderness, from little Jackson Valley to wild- 
 wooded Moosilauke, and the interest of the author is soon commimicated to the reader, 
 so that he feels, if he has once visited this region, that he must go again with this book 
 in his hand, to look with wider eyes and finer intelligence, to dream with poets and 
 think with sages." — The New York Home Journal. 
 
 " The volume, although it covers familiar ground, is unique in its plan and treat- 
 ment, and opens up a new and wonderful source of erjoyment to the lover of natural 
 scenery. It humanizes Nature, or, rather, it brings the single individual soul into 
 communion with that vast and universal soul which pervades Sie material universe. ' — 
 Boston Transcript. 
 
 " Description of the perpetually changing mountain view (assisted by ten good 
 photogravures), and interpretation of it after the manner of the poet and the believer 
 in the Divine Immanence, are the rwo offices which Mr. Ward has so successfully dis- 
 charged that his volume will become a classic on the White Mountains." — Literary 
 World. 
 
 " It furnishes a great deal of practical information which will be of inestimable 
 service."— Boston Gazette. 
 
 "The book is replete with noble thoughts expressed in language of exquisite 
 beauty." — New York Observer. 
 
 " Th*? author is thoroughly in love with his subject and not less thoroughly acquaint- 
 ed with it." — New York Tribune. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
A 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ROUND AND ABOUT SOUTH AMERICA: 
 
 Twenty Months of Quest and Query. By Frank Vincent, 
 author of " The Land of the White Elephant," etc. With Maps^ 
 Plans, and 54 full-page Illustrations. 8vo, xxiv + 473 pages. 
 Ornamental cloth, $5.00. 
 
 No former traveler has made so comprehensive and thorough a tour of 
 Spanish and Portuguese America as did Mr. Vincent. He visited every 
 capital, chief city, and important seaport, made several expeditions into the 
 interior of Brazil and the Argentine Republic, and ascended the Parand, 
 Paraguay, Amazon, Orinoco, and Magdalena Rivers ; he visited the crater 
 of Pichinchas, i6,uoo feet above the sea-level ; he explored falls in the center 
 of the continent, which, though meriting the title of "Niagara of South 
 America," are all but unknown to the outside world ; he spent months in 
 the picturesque capital of Rio Janeiro ; he visited the coffee districts, studied 
 the slaves, descended the gold-mines, viewed the greatest rapids of the globe, 
 entered the isolated Guianas, and so on. 
 
 / 
 
 N AND OUT OF CENTRAL AMERICA; and 
 other Sketches and Studies of Travel. By Frank Vincent. 
 With Maps and Illustrations. I2md. Cloth, $2,00. 
 
 B 
 
 RAZfL : Its Condition and Prospects. By C. C. Andrews, 
 ex-Consul-General to Brazil. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " I hope I may be able to present some facts in respect to the present situation of 
 Brazil which will be both instructive and entertaining to general readers. My means 
 of acquaintance with that empire are principally derived from a residence of three 
 years at Rio de Janeiro, its capital, while employed in the service of the United States 
 Government, during which period I made a few journeys into the interior." — From 
 the Preface. 
 
 c 
 
 HINA : Travels and Investigations in the " Middle 
 Kingdom^ A Study of its Civilization and Possibilities. 
 With a Glance at Japan. By James Harrison Wilson, late 
 Major-General United States Volunteers and Brevet Major- 
 General United States Army. i2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
 
 " The book presents China and Japan in all these aspects ; the manners and cus- 
 toms of the people; the institutions, tendencies, and social ideas; the government and 
 leading men." — Boston Traveller. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
/ 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 'DLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA, By W. H. Hud- 
 son, C. M. Z. S., author of " The Naturalist in La Plata," etc. 
 With 27 Illustrations. 8vo. Cloth, $4.00. 
 
 "Of all modem books of travel it is certainly one of the most original, and many, 
 we are sure, will also find it one of the most interesting and suggestive." — New York 
 Tribune. 
 
 " Mr. Hudson's remarks on color and expression of eyes in man and animals are re- 
 served for a second chapter, 'Concerning Eyes.' He is eloquent upon the pleasures 
 afforded by ' Bird Music in South America,' and relates some romantic tales of white 
 men in captivity to savages. But it makes very little difference what is the topic when 
 Mr. Hudson writes. He calls up bright images of things unseen, and is a thoroughly 
 agreeable companion." — Philadelphia Ledger 
 
 T 
 
 ^HE NATURALIST IN LA PLATA. By W. H. 
 Hudson, C. M. Z. S., author of " Idle Days in Patagonia," and 
 joint author of " Argentine Ornithology." With 27 Illustra- 
 tions. 8vo. Cloth, $4.00. 
 
 " Mr. Hudson is not only a clever naturalist, but he possesses the rare gift of in- 
 teresting his readers in whatever attracts him, and of being dissatisfied with mere ob- 
 servation unless it enables him to philosophize as well. With his lucid accounts of 
 bird, beast, and insect, no one will fail to be delighted." — London Academy. 
 
 "A notably clear and interesting account of scientific observation and research. 
 Mr. Hudson has a keen eye for the phenomena with which the naturalist is concerned, 
 and a lucid and delightful way of writing about them, so that any reader may be 
 charmed by the narrative and the reflections here set forth. It is easy to follow him, 
 and we get our information agreeably as he conducts us over the desert pampas, and 
 makes us acquainted with the results of his studies of animals, insects, and birds.'' — • 
 JVew York Sun. 
 
 n^HE NATURALIST ON THE RIVER 
 J- AMAZONS. By Henry Walter Bates, F. R. S., late Assist- 
 ant Secretary of the Royal Geographical Society. With a 
 Memoir of the Author, by Edward Clodd. With Map and 
 numerous Illustrations. 8vo. Cloth, $5.00. 
 " This famous work is a natural history q\3s%\z."— London Literary World. 
 " More than thirty years have passed since the first appearance of ' The Naturalist 
 on the River Amazons,' which Darwin unhesitatingly pronounced the best book on 
 natural history which ever appeared in England. The work still retains its prime in- 
 terest, and in rereading it one can not but be impressed by the way in which the pro- 
 phetic theories, disputed and ridiculed at the time, have since been accepted. Such is 
 the common experience of those who keep a few paces in advance of their generation. 
 Bates was a 'bom' naturalist." — Philadelphia Ledger, 
 
 "No man v/as better prepared or gave himself up more thoroughly to the task of 
 studying an almost unknown fauna, or showed a zeal more indefatigable in prosecuting 
 his researches, than Bates. As a collector alone his reputation would be second to 
 none, but there is a great deal more than sheer industry' to be cited. The naturalist of 
 the Amazons is, par excellence, possessed of a happy literary style. He is always clear 
 and distinct. He tells of the wonders of tropical growth so that you can understand 
 them all." — New York Times. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
T 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 GEORGE H. ELLWANGER'S BOOKS. 
 
 'HE GARDEN'S STORY; or, Pleasures and Trials 
 of an Amateur Gardener. With Head and Tail Pieces by 
 Rhead. i6ino. Cloth, extra, $1,50. 
 
 " This dainty nugget of horticultural lore treats of the pleasures and trials of an 
 amateur gardener. From the time when daffodils begin to peer and the 'secret of the 
 year' comes in to mid-October, Mr. Ellwanger provides an outline of hardy flower- 
 gardening that can be carried on and worked upon by amateurs. ... A little chapter 
 on * Warm Weathjr Wisdom' is a presentment of the cream of English literature. 
 Nor is the information of this floral calendar confined to the literary or theoretical 
 sides. 'Plant thickly; it is easier and more profitable to raise flowers than weeds,' is a 
 practical direction from the garden syllabus." — Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 " One of the most charming books of the season. . . . This little volume, printed 
 in excellent taste, is redolent of garden fragrance and garden wisdom. ... It is in no 
 sense a text-book, but it combines a vast deal of information with a great deal of out- 
 of-door observation, and exceedingly pleasant and sympathetic writing about flowers 
 and plants." — Christian Union. 
 
 " A dainty, learned, charming, and delightful book."— iV^^w York Sun. 
 
 T 
 
 HE STORY OE MY HOUSE. With an Etched 
 Frontispiece by Sidney L. Smith, and numerous Head and Tail 
 Pieces by W. C. Greenough. i6mo. Cloth, extra, $1.50. 
 
 "An essay on the building of a house, with all its kaleidoscopic possibilities in the 
 way of reform, and its tantalizing successes before the fact, is always interesting ; and 
 the author is not niggardly in the good points he rneans to secure. It is but natural to 
 follow these with a treatise on rugs full of Orientalism and enthusiasm ; on the literary 
 den and the caller, welcome or otherwise ; on the cabinets of porcelain, the rare edi- 
 tions on the shelves, the briefly indicated details of the spoils of the chase in their 
 proper place; on the greenhouse, with its curious climate and wonderful botany and 
 odors, about which the author writes with unusual charm and precision ; on the dining- 
 room and the dinner. . . . The book aims only to be agreeable; its literary flavor is 
 pervasive, its sentiment kept well in hand." — New York Evening Post. 
 
 " When the really perfect book of its class comes to a critic's hands, all the words 
 he has used to describe fairly satisfactory ones are inadequate for his new purpose, and 
 he feels inclined, as in this case, to stand aside and let the book speak for itself. In its 
 own way, it would be hardly possible for this daintily printed volume to do better." — 
 Art A mateur. 
 
 I 
 
 W GOLD AND SILVER. With Illustrations by 
 
 W. Hamilton Gibson, A. B. Wenzell, and W. C. Greenough. 
 
 i6mo. Cloth, $2.00. Also, limited Edition de luxe, on Japanese 
 
 vellum, $5.00. 
 
 Contents : The Golden Rug of Kermanshah ; Warders of the Woods ; 
 A Shadow upon the Pool ; The Silver Fox of Hunt's Hollow. 
 
 " After spending a half-hour with ' In Gold and Silver,' one recalls the old saying, 
 • Precious things come in small parcels.' " — Christian Intelligencer. 
 
 " One of the handsomest gift-books of the ytar."— Philadelphia Inquirer. 
 
 " The whole book is eminently interesting, and emphatically deserving of the very 
 handsome and artistic setting it has received." — New York Tribune. .,^^ 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond sSeet. 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS 
 
 WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN 
 THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY 
 WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTH 
 DAY AND TO $1.00 ON THE SEVENTH DAY 
 OVERDUE. 
 
 FtB 16 , 
 
 
 JUN 3 1942 
 
 
 
 
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