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INDIAN TALES 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK W. CALKINS 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 L A. DONOHUE & CO. 
 
 407-429 Dearborn St. 
 
M. A. DONO'HUE & COMPANY 
 
 PRINTERS AND BINDERS 
 ■A O 7 - -4 ? 9 DEARS qBR N S T R E E. ■*" 
 
 OH ICAGO 
 
RONTIER SKETCHE; 
 
 T>Jcs ^ fK ' c kjg 
 
 l J 
 
 *ts 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK W. CALKINS 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO 
 
Copyrighted, 1893 
 
 BY 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO. 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 Frontier Sketches. 
 
 DONOHUE ft HENNEBERRY, PRINTERS AND BINDERS, CHICAGO. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 L Old Stumpy. 6 
 
 II. McLeod'a Adventure 15 
 
 III. An Exciting Boat Ride 23 
 
 IV. ARaceforLife «. M . 33 
 
 V. A Bad Medicine Man 44 
 
 VI. Saved by a *' Jack" 60 
 
 VII. A Woman's Brave Exploit 59 
 
 VIII. In the Sioux Country in '75 <J9 
 
 IX. Sequapah 80 
 
 X. Outjuggled 92 
 
 XI. The Old Judge's Stoiy .,. 101 
 
 XII. Wapper-Jaw John Ill 
 
 XIII. A Desperate Escape 121 
 
 XIV. Boyer's Stratagem ••• 130 
 
 XV. HowHeGotlt ....* 140 
 
INDIAN TALES, 
 
 i. 
 
 OLD STUMPY. 
 
 In the spring of the year 1866, the writer's family 
 moved westward from West Bend, Iowa (a small set- 
 tlement on the Des Moines river, where we had spent 
 the winter), a distance of forty miles across a wide, bare 
 stretch of prairie, into the valley of the Little Sioux. 
 Here we settled upon a homestead, having to go eighty 
 miles to the nearest land office, at Sioux City, to take 
 out the necessary papers. 
 
 Our nearest neighbors, with the exception of five 
 families who had accompanied us, were fifteen miles 
 away. 
 
 In order to give the reader some idea of the raw new- 
 ness of the country, I will add that our nearest mark- 
 eting points — Fort Dodge and Sioux City — were each 
 eighty miles away. All that distance we had to go in 
 order to dispose of a few pounds of butter, or to buy a 
 pound of sugar. 
 
 To build a house of lumber was not to be thought of, 
 though my father did manage to get a quantity of 
 floorings, sheetings and shingles made from native ash 
 at a sawmill twenty miles down the river. From these 
 he finished a comfortable log cabin, into which we 
 moved upon one of the first days of May. 
 
 As I have said, our nearest neighbors lived fifteen 
 
 5^ 
 
D INDIAN TALES. 
 
 miles away, but we soon discovered several of a nomadic 
 sort, who made their appearance periodically, and 
 lived in " dug-outs " along the river. These were old 
 fellows who hunted for a living, and, in their own 
 dialect, had " trapped the kentry off'n on fer years." 
 
 One evening, just after we were fairly settled in our 
 new cabin, and while we were seated at supper, there 
 appeared in the open doorway one of the oddest-looking 
 creatures imaginable. It was a little old man, with a 
 reddish-gray beard and long, thin hair of the same 
 color ; and though I was then but a boy ten years old, I 
 can at this moment shut my eyes and recall the image 
 distinctly. The dumpy figure standing for a moment, 
 one foot upon the door-sill, one dirty hand resting on 
 the casing, the greasy, patched, old " wammus," deer- 
 skin pants and big beaver cap are still vivid in my 
 recollection. 
 
 "Come in," said my father,. as the queer old fellow 
 stood hesitating with a grin upon his face. "Come in 
 and have some supper." 
 
 " I'm obleeged to ye, mister ; don't keer^'f I dew," and 
 he stumped into the room, half falling over the sill 
 and stumbled across the floor in a clumsy, awkward 
 fashion. " Got no feet," he exclaimed, " 'cep'nonly a 
 wooden un an' a stub. 
 
 " Ben a-trapin' round here some this spring," he con- 
 tinued, hitching up to the table. "These is my 
 grounds, from the forks down here to the head of the 
 Stony. Got a dug-out up'n the High bank nigh Kound 
 Grove. Got 'nother up on the Sioux nigh the ' Lakes,' " 
 — a local name, still used, for the group of lakes men- 
 tioned above, — "an' I've got a nuther out on Rock 
 River, an' another up'n Minnesoter on the Lacky 
 
INDIAN TALES. 7 
 
 Parle." {Lao Qui Parle, lake which speaks.) "Change 
 off, ye know 1 ; f er when faint good trappin' on one 
 ground, most gen'ly 'tis on 'nuther." 
 
 Having thus oddly introduced himself, he began 
 using his knife and fingers upon the food passed to him, 
 eating rapidly vyhile he answerd the various questions 
 my father put to him. He sat next to me at the table, 
 and I noted that his clothes were woefully greasy, and 
 had a smell about them which I came to recognize later 
 on, when I trapped my first muskrat. I left the table 
 before I had finished supper, but sat in the doorway, 
 where I could watch our queer guest and listen to what 
 he said. 
 
 During the course of the meal, we learned that his 
 name was Charles Weeks, and that he was born near 
 the shore of Lake Champlain in New York. He had 
 come West in '35, and had trapped in northern Iowa 
 and in Minnesota ever since. For thirty years, in fact, 
 since he was a boy of nineteen, this man had wandered 
 ..over and lived on these uncivilized prairies, and the 
 greater part of the time he had lived alone. 
 
 After supper it began to rain gently, and my father 
 and I hastened to finish the remaining " chores." 
 
 When we came in, dripping from the rain which 
 meantime had begun to fall more rapidly, the old trap- 
 per was still sitting by the fire, for even though an 
 evening in May, the storm was a cold and thoroughly 
 disagreeable one. 
 
 " Knowed this was a-comin'," said the trapper. 
 " Reckon ye'll hev to let me roll in on yer floor hero 
 fer the night. I could 'a' huffed it home to my dug- 
 out ten years ago, when I stud on two feet, 'stid of 
 
8 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 two stumps, an' I'd V thought nothin of sech a sprinkle 
 es this ; but them days is gone by." 
 
 My father assured him that he was welcome to stay, 
 and then asked if he would tell how he came to meet 
 with such a misfortune as the losing of his feet ; and 
 I will give his story mainly in my own words, rather 
 than in his backwoods dialect. 
 
 "Oh yes," he answered. "It's a pityful yarn, 
 though, and I don't generally like to say much about 
 it. It happened about ten years ago over on the Des 
 Moines. I was staying that fall with a gritty chap 
 that moved up from Fort Dodge, and squatted on a 
 piece of Des Moines bottom-land. He had his wife with 
 him, and a baby about a year old, I reckon, as pretty 
 and as slick, too, as a muskrat kit. 
 
 " Symmons — that was the man's name — rhad built 
 him a log shanty, and he had a yoke of oxen and a 
 cow, and had broken a five-acre lot that spring, and 
 tried to raise some potatoes and sod-corn; but he 
 planted too late, and the frost killed every hill of them 
 early in September. 
 
 " "Well, at that time I had a dugout not far from where 
 he'd settled, and I bad some flour and coffee, and 
 a lot of traps cached near by, and so when I came down 
 from a summer's hunt up in Minnesota, to begin my 
 fall trapping, Symmons wanted me to go as a partner 
 with him for a season. Seeing he was so hard up, and 
 that he could furnish me with a, decent place to live in 
 and a cook, I concluded I'd go in with him. 
 
 " You see, in those days, and now too, the buyers 
 came around late every fall and spring, and bought all 
 the fur the trappers had taken during the fur seasons. 
 So we decided that when we had sold our furs that 
 
INDIAN TALES. 9 
 
 fall, I was to take Symmons' oxen and wagon and make 
 a trip down to the Fort for a winter's supply of gro- 
 ceries and such things. 
 
 " Well, we did do famously for a couple of months. 
 All the slews were unusually full of rat houses built 
 that summer, and there were plenty of beaver and 
 mink on the river and creeks. 
 
 " Everything went off well enough with us until one 
 day about the last of November. Then we had trouble 
 enough, and it came quick and unexpected. 
 
 " A lot of Sioux had sneaked into our parts unknown 
 to us, and one night they lay in ambush in a grove 
 near the cabin, and as it happened as we went to the 
 cabin Symmons was ahead of me, he got all their bul- 
 lets, and I got none. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! They killed him the first fire, for he 
 wasn't expecting anything of the kind, as there hadn't 
 been any Indian trouble in our parts for over two 
 years, and so he was carrying his pelts along without 
 even a gun with- him. 
 
 " I had mine, though, and as I was on the other side 
 of the river from them all, I made a break to get away. 
 Then the Indians rode to the shanty and burned it, and 
 drove off the cattle. 
 
 " They didn't find Symmons' wife at home, though, 
 for she had heard the firing, and had run off with her 
 baby and hid in some thick willows down the river. It 
 was nearly dark when they got . to the house, or I 
 reckon they would have found her easily enough, for 
 I had no trouble finding her, shivering and. crying in 
 the brush the next morning. 
 
 " You may be sure she was glad to see me, poor 
 thing, for she thought we'd both been shot ; but she 
 
10 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 and the baby were nearly frozen, for it was very cold 
 in the night. 
 
 "But she wouldn't be satisfied to go away with- 
 out looking after Symmons, until I told her I had found 
 him and buried him in a sand-bar. We were poorly 
 equipped for cold weather, and 'specially for the tramp 
 between us and where her folks lived at Fort Dodge. 
 
 " When she knew what we must do, she got right up 
 with her little one and said she was ready to start. 
 Well, we set off at once, down the river. I carried the 
 baby and she carried the gun, except when we saw any 
 game, and then I'd try to get a shot, and I did kill a 
 duck and a rabbit before noon, and made a fire by 
 firing my gun into a mess of dry leaves. By this fire 
 we cooked and ate them both for dinner. 
 
 " When we'd got through our meal, and had got upon 
 high land, I found that we had reached a point where 
 we must make a tremendous circuit round the west 
 bend. But it had grown warmer, and I concluded to 
 risk it, knowing that we could make it before night if 
 it didn't storm ; for the woman was clean grit and a 
 good traveler, and the baby seemed to feel contented 
 as a kitten after its dinner of broiled rabbit. 
 
 " Mis' Symmons, though, couldn't keep from crying 
 all the time, and every little while she'd burst out afresh, 
 and I'd say something to try and keep up her sperits, 
 but you can believe that I didn't feel more than ordi- 
 nary cheerful myself about that time. 
 
 " Wal, we hadn't made more than half that stretch 
 of prairie before I saw there was a big snow-storm 
 brewing, such a storm as I reckon they never get any- 
 where except here on these prairies." (These storms 
 
INDIAN TALES. 11 
 
 have since become well-known under the name of bliz- 
 zards.) 
 
 "That made me uneasy enough ; for I knew if one 
 struck us away from shelter, we shouldn't stand one 
 chance in a hundred of getting through alive. But the 
 storm did strike us, and we did pull through. The 
 snow came, with a tremendous northwest wind, when 
 we were about three miles out from the river, and in 
 five minutes you couldn't see six rods from the end of 
 your nose, and it turned cold so suddenly it seemed like 
 slapping you in the face with an icy blanket, after com- 
 ing out of a warm room. 
 
 " Mis' Symmons happened to be dressed purty warm 
 with a flannel dress and a cloak that she could pull over 
 her head; she hadn't time when she fled from the 
 Indians into the woods to get her bonnet, and the baby 
 hadn't scarcely any clothes on, but she had wrapped it 
 in her cloak all night. 
 
 " Well, when that storm -came, I made up my mind 
 there wasn't any show for us, but I thought I'd try and 
 save the baby. So I jerked off the fur socks that I wore 
 inside my rawhide c packs,' and pulled one of them on 
 over each of the baby's legs, and tucked its arms inside 
 of them, too, and then I pulled on my packs and put 
 the little cretur inside my coat, next my bosom, and we 
 hurried on. The wind was in our backs, and that was 
 one grand thing, and I knew if we could keep on for 
 the next half -hour we could make the timber on the 
 river ; for all we had to do to get our direction was to 
 point straight with the wind. 
 
 " I made Mis' Symmons hang to my coat-tail, and 
 then I took her off at a good dog-trot, with the wind 
 helping us on, 
 
12 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 " But it was a terrible jaunt ! The wind blowed har- 
 der and the snow grew thicker every minute; and the 
 cold seemed to cut clean to the bone. It wasn't five 
 minutes before I knew my feet were both freezing. Kb 
 great wonder, you see, after pulling off warm fur socks 
 and then putting my cold feet back into them frozen 
 rawhides. 
 
 " But I hugged that baby and went ahead harder and 
 harder ; and that plucky Mis' Symmons she hung to me 
 and kept up, and finally we made the river, and got 
 into a sheltered place behind a hill. 
 
 " It wasn't dark, and so while she held the baby and 
 talked down a path in the snow, I got together a pile 
 of dry wood and made a fire. Then I took my knife 
 and cut a big heap of brush and made a kind of shelter 
 over the fire so the snow wouldn't sift down on us, and 
 then I took my gun and went along the bottom of the 
 hill and shot a grouse and a couple of rabbits, and 
 brought them in. 
 
 " By that time we had a first-rate fire, and Mis' Sym- 
 mons had got down by it and examined her baby, and 
 had found it wasn't frozen anywhere; but, poor woman, 
 she'd begun to thaw out herself, in spots, and she was 
 suffering terribly. 
 
 " As for me, I had worked all the time like a beaver, 
 and I'd kept every part of me warm but my feet. They 
 were frozen solid, from the ankle down, and felt like a 
 couple of sticks. 
 
 " I thawed 'em out in snow by the fire ; but I couldn't 
 tell you what I suffered that night. Mis' Symmons 
 wasn't frozen badly anywhere, just her toes and some 
 frost-bit spots on her shoulders and hands. Her cloak 
 
INDIAN TALES. 13 
 
 had saved herjiead and ears, and my big beaver cap, 
 like the one I wear now, had saved mine. 
 
 " We managed to cook the rabbits and eat them, 
 and to feed the baby, which didn't make any fuss at 
 all, but went to sleep in its mother's arms. 
 
 " It was a frightful night ; but somehow we lived, 
 all of us, she a-dozing by the fire and holding the 
 sleeping baby, and I cutting and piling sticks upon 
 the fire. 
 
 "Well, the next forenoon, about the middle, it 
 cleared off. We had cooked and eaten the grouse for 
 breakfast, and I'd got a big heap of dry wood round 
 the fire, and so I told Mis' Symmons that I knew 
 where there was a ' dug-out,' four or five miles below, 
 and if she thought she could keep herself and the baby 
 warm, I'd go down there and prospect. 
 
 " She said she could, and wanted me to go ; so I 
 walked off, and got down there after a couple of 
 hours' hard wading, expecting to find the dug-out 
 empty, and not fit to stay in ; and wasn't I the happiest 
 man to find two trappers that I knew occupying it, 
 and fixed up as snug as you please ! 
 
 " They were Bill Goss and Jim Freeman, God bless 
 'em ! And the way they took me inside and put me 
 in warm blankets, and then took more and went after 
 that woman and her baby, was a blessed thing to see, 
 I tell ye." 
 
 The old trapper drew his dirty sleeve across his eyes, 
 and every other eye in the cabin was wet with 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Well, they took us in and nursed us," continued the 
 old man, " and when the weather became clear, Bill 
 put on his snow-shoes and went down to the fort and 
 
14 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 got her folks who lived there to come up after her with 
 a team and sled. And they got a doctor, too, to come 
 up to see me ; for my feet had been getting awful 
 bad. 
 
 " When her folks came they took her home, and the 
 next spring they all moved back to Mississippi, and I 
 never saw her or the baby again. I didn't get round 
 again for a good while, and when I did, I'd lost one 
 foot and ten toes, and I've been stumping it over the 
 prairies ever since ; that's why they call me ' Old 
 Stumpy.' Still, I don't know but I'd do the same 
 thing agin — pore creturs 1 " 
 
n. 
 
 McLEOD'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 Among the earliest settlers of the Wisconsin valley 
 were "Bob" and "Bill" McCleod, known to later settlers 
 as "The McCloud Brothers." Long before — the date 
 is not exactly known — the tide of emigration began to 
 turn northward from the exhausted mines of the" Lead 
 Kegion," Bob and Bill had built their log cabin on the 
 north side of the river, and settled themselves— at least 
 for a time — under a picturesque bluff, in what is now 
 known as Eichland county. 
 
 They were hunters and trappers of true backwoods 
 origin, and belonged to that rough and hardy class of 
 men who have for more than a century led the van- 
 guard of our civilization into the wilderness. They 
 were large, fierce-looking men, who usually shunned 
 neighbors, and had little to say to those whom they met. 
 
 They kept up an inveterate feud with the "Winnebagoes 
 and Pottawatomies, whose hunting-grounds encroached 
 upon what they were pleased to call their own. This 
 feud was continued long after the treaties of peace 
 which settled the difficulties that were the causes for 
 the Black Hawk and the Winnebago "-Wars." 
 
 The McCleods hated the Indians with a fierce and 
 unrelenting hatred, and were cordially hated in their 
 turn, and also greatly feared by the roving bands of 
 savages who knew them. 
 
 Bob, at least so it is said, had sad cause for his hatred* 
 of the Winnebagoes, for during the Indian troubles of 
 1827, a party of three young bucks had made a raid 
 
16 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 upon a small settlement in Missouri and had taken sev- 
 eral persons, among them young McCleod's betrothed, 
 a girl of sixteen years. 
 
 For six years Bob mourned her sincerely, and then 
 during one of his trading trips to Prairie Du Chien he 
 met his long-lost sweetheart and knew her instantly. 
 But she was the wife of a Winnebago, and had almost 
 forgotten her own people, so thoroughly had she 
 become Indianized. 
 
 From that day Bob grew morose and vindictive, and 
 his brother shared in this feeling. Neither of them ever 
 married. In their difficulties with the Indians— and 
 they were known to have had many — they were not, it 
 is perhaps just to say, always the aggressors. 
 
 It is known that on more than one occasion the 
 brothers were in danger from parties of Winnebagoes 
 and Pottawatomies, who had come upon their " hunt- 
 ing-circuit " with the evident intention of either killing 
 the white men or driving them across the river, but 
 such was the address, the watchfulness and boldness of 
 Bob and Bill that in every instance they were enabled 
 to escape, and sometimes to inflict serious punishment 
 upon their enemies. 
 
 Once a single Winnebago in the night boldly 
 perched himself among the branches of a scrub oak 
 that grew at the foot of the bluff, and with gun cocked 
 and ready, waited patiently for daylight, when he 
 expected to kill one or both of the brothers as they 
 came out of their cabin-door. 
 
 As it happened, Bill had gone out early in the even- 
 ing to watch deer at a "lick" in one of the hollows 
 above. He did not return until daylight, and as he 
 came around the point of the bluff with a saddle of 
 
INDIAN TALES. 17 
 
 venison upon his shoulders, he caught a glimpse of a 
 moccasined foot dangling below the limb of an oak 
 between himself and the cabin. With great caution 
 he crept nearer to the object, and saw that an Indian 
 was crouching among the leaves. As soon as he had 
 obtained a clear view of the intended assassin, he drew 
 his rifle and shot him. Bob, who had been out all 
 night the day before and was sleeping late — late for 
 him—was aroused by the shot, and came out rubbing 
 his eyes with one hand, and with a cocked rifle in the 
 other. 
 
 The Winnebago had a bright, new army musket, 
 and if the brothers had been at home and— -as fre- 
 quently happened after getting their breakfast — had 
 come out of their cabin-door together, he might have 
 killed them both, and this was no doubt his design. 
 
 At another time, while Bill and Jules Piquith— a 
 "Canadian Frenchman" who was trapping in com- 
 pany with them—were away on a trading trip, Bob 
 had a " bout " with a Pottawatomie, which came near 
 costing him his life, and in which the Indian certainly 
 was the victor. 
 
 It was in June. Bill and Piquith had gone down 
 the river with a boat-load of furs — their " spring 
 oatch" — to market them at Prairie Du Chien, which 
 was the nearest trading-post. One evening, several 
 days after their departure, as Bob was returning down 
 the river, in his dug-out, from a visit to some " set- 
 lines," at a famous catfish-hole which he had discovered 
 at the lower end of an island, he saw a canoe shoot out 
 from the mouth of a creek, some hundred yards ahead, 
 and glide off down the current. 
 
 It was dusk, but Bob thought he knew the canoe. It 
 
18 IttDIAK TALES. 
 
 was Bill's dug-out, and somebody was taking a most 
 unwarrantable liberty in paddling it about. 
 
 He and Bill, with a considerable amount of labor, 
 had each fashioned a light " dug-out," or canoe, from a 
 pine log, for his own particular use in paddling about 
 to their traps and on fishing excursions. Each used a 
 broad paddle of cedar, and could propel his light craft 
 through the current at a surprising rate of speed. 
 
 These canoes were among their most valuable pos- 
 sessions, therefore Bob was highly incensed upon seeing 
 a stranger making off in one of them. 
 
 " Hi thwr / " he yelled. « You f eller ! " 
 
 But the stranger paddled swiftly on without seeming 
 to have heard. 
 
 Again Bob called or rather roared at the retreating 
 canoeman, " Hi, you ! Land that dug-out S " And then, 
 seized with a sudden conviction that the trespasser was 
 "one o' them Pottawats from Muscada," the irate 
 hunter caught up his rifle and leveled it. He found it 
 too dark to sight with any accuracy and, hastily laying 
 down his gun, resumed the paddle. 
 
 And then began an exciting race. 
 
 The Indian, of course, knew that he was pursued, 
 but evidently relied upon the growing darkness to pro- 
 tect him from the white man's rifle, an4, upon his own 
 dextrous use of the jpaddle to make his final escape. 
 
 In the latter point, however, he was much mistaken. 
 Bob was a man of great strength, and an expert in the 
 use of his broad paddle ; an implement so large as to 
 be clumsy in the hands of an Indian used to the light 
 blade with which his birch-bark craft was propelled. 
 
 In less than a mile's run McCleod came up with the 
 Pottawatomie. 
 
JUDlAaiS TALES. 
 
 19 
 
 The Indian was on the look-out, and when Bob's 
 canoe had come up within a few yards of him, quickly 
 dropped his paddle and caught up his gun. 
 
 Bob was just on the point -of reaching for his own 
 gun, but so quick were the Indian's movements that 
 the hunter had only time to throw himself backwards 
 as the Pottawatomie's gun cracked. The bullet whis- 
 
 tled over his head harmlessly enough, and Bob straight- 
 ened up, with a hoot of derision. 
 
 The Indian, to expedite his movements, had dropped 
 his paddle upon the current and Bob saw that he was 
 now vainly reaching for it, while his canoe was drifting. 
 
 And now, instead of " wastin' an' wishin'," McCleod 
 determined to run the Indian down, that is, to upset his 
 canoe and strike him on the head as he struggled in 
 the water ; but as he was about to drive at it, over it 
 went, and the Pottawatomie disappeared in a sudden 
 
20 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 plunge into the water on the other side. Bob theught 
 he understood that movement. Shooting his canoe 
 forward until it had passed the drifting one, and then 
 catching up his gun, he watched sharply for the Indian's 
 head to appear below. It was not so dark but that he 
 could see the surface quite plainly for a number of 
 yards on either sideband he knew that the Indian could 
 neither swim very fast, nor remain very long, under 
 water. 
 
 He watched several seconds, but in vain, for no head- 
 appeared, and then suddenly began to sub K-^t the trick 
 that had been played him. He was just tnt-nt to turn 
 and take a look at the overturned canoe, whan he felt it 
 grate against the stern of his own. He th-. w his rifle 
 around, with a quick intuition of what wa ' about to 
 happen, but he was too late. McCleod n ver knew 
 exactly how it was done, but as he turned, his canoe 
 was given a violent wrench at the stern, and he was 
 pitched, gun in hand, neatly out into the water. 
 
 The Indian had either come up under the over-turned 
 canoe, or just behind it, and as it drifted down against 
 Bob's craft, the wily fellow had seized and upset it, 
 well knowing that with his rifle wet and himself in the 
 water, the white man would not be a formidable foe. 
 
 Bob came to the surface spluttering, but clinging 
 instinctively to his rifle. 
 
 " Hoo ! hoo ! " shouted the Indian. " How you like? " 
 McCleod turned his head, and saw the Pottawatomie 
 making off, swimming toward the point of an island — 
 the channel was studded with them — some fifty yards 
 below ; and, angrily determined to punish the Indian 
 at all hazzards, he immediately struck out and gave 
 chase. 
 
INDIAN TALES. 21 
 
 Both swimmers were encumbered with their rifles, 
 but the Indian had several yards the start, and proved 
 himself as good a swimmer as the white man. He 
 reached a ridge of sand, against which the deep current 
 was wearing, as much in advance as he had started, 
 and quickly drawing himself up, faced about and 
 clubbed his gun. By the time the Indian had executed 
 this maneuver, Bob had come within striking distance, 
 and suddenly realized that he had made another mis- 
 take. 
 
 Just as his feet struck bottom, the Pottawatomie 
 leaned forward — the Indian was standing up to his 
 knees in sand — and struck viciously at him with the 
 barrel of his gun. Bob had barely time to throw his 
 head to one side, and the blow fell with benumbing 
 force upon his right shoulder, and glancing, knocked 
 the rifle out of his hand. 
 
 Bob had the presence of mind to throw himself 
 quickly backward, to kick vigorously with both feet, 
 while he " pawed the water " with his left hand ; his 
 right he could not use. 
 
 This energetic plunge undoubtedly saved his life, for 
 before the Indian could recover, to deal another blow, 
 he was out of reach. He now swam on his side out a 
 few yards into the current and treading water with his 
 feet awaited the canoes, which were drifting down 
 toward him. The Indian plunged into the water, 
 secured Bob's rifle, then he stood on the bank and shook 
 both guns at the discomfited hunter. 
 
 " Hi, you ! " he yelled. " You want £un you come 
 git." Then he dropped the guns, laughed, slapped his 
 legs, and hooted at the enraged Bob all the derisive 
 English of his vocabulary. 
 
Sffi INDIAN TALES. 
 
 As for McCleod, he had nothing to say, but bore his 
 misfortune with outward stoicism, like a savage in this 
 respect at least, and when the canoes drifted alongside, 
 he managed to get himself astride the bottom of one, 
 and by the use of his uninjured arm and his legs to 
 paddle it ashore at the main bank. Leaving the Indian 
 to capture the other and make off at his leisure, Bob 
 went home to his cabin to nurse his wound and his 
 wrath. 
 
 It was some days before he could use his right hand, 
 even to feed himself. He had a musket and plenty of 
 ammunition at the cabin, and with this weapon he was 
 obliged to content himself, until it came his turn to 
 make the fall trading trip. 
 
 He never saw his rifle again, although the canoe was 
 accidentally discovered the following spring. It was 
 hid near the mouth of a creek, not far from the then 
 deserted Pottawatomie village. 
 
m. 
 
 AN EXCITING BOAT RIDE. 
 
 "Isn't that the mouth of White Kiver % " I said to 
 Capt. Isaac Brodhead, of the river steamer Treadwell, 
 with whom I had taken passage for a trip wp the Mis- 
 souri not many months agoT The evening was advanc- 
 ing. We were standing on deck, enjoying the moon- 
 lit scenery, and had just come up opposite a gap in the 
 low hills, showing a valley, up the bottom of which I 
 could see a long arm of shining water. 
 
 "Yes," answered the captain, who stood leaning 
 upon the taffrail. Presently he came to where I stood, 
 and seated himself on the rail, with his back to the 
 water. 
 
 " I made the money to buy this boat, or ruther the 
 one that I owned before this, off that river," he 
 remarked, and the remark was in a tone that plainly 
 invited a question. 
 
 " And how was that ? " I asked. 
 
 "Trapping," he answered. "Twenty years ago 
 there was more fur to the mile along the banks of 
 White'Earth — that's what we called the river then — 
 than on any other stream of its size that runs into the 
 Missouri. 
 
 " Fur brought a good price then, too," he continued. 
 "A trapper could make money in those days, if he 
 cared to save. Most trappers are too free with their 
 cash. It wasn't so with me, though," 
 
 He sat thoughtful after this, and at length I fea- 
 tured a question. 
 
 ^ as 
 
34 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 " Did you go out alone when you trapped on the 
 White Earth ! " 
 
 " No, of course not. The business was too danger- 
 ous ; and then two or three men could trap to better 
 advantage than one. I used to trap with two fellows 
 named Thad Peters and Gil Yillemont. We started 
 Out in September, and did not get back on to the Mis- 
 souri till the middle of the next May, or later. ' 
 
 " For two seasons we went up White Earth in a big 
 skiff, and when we come back, it was loaded so full of 
 pelts that two of us had to walk along shore, while the 
 other steered the skiff. 
 
 " The last time we had to make a big dug-out canoe, 
 pack part of them in that, and take it in tow. We 
 could have made another for two of us to ride down in, 
 but it was such a desperate lot of work to dig one out 
 with the tools we had, that we'd rather walk. We 
 always kept another boat cached near the mouth of 
 White Earth, an' when we struck the river, we pulled 
 this out of its hiding, calked it,, and sailed down to 
 Omaha, where we spent our summers and sold our fur. 
 
 " In the fall we loaded our boats on some up-river 
 steamer, which took them and us back again to the 
 mouth of White Earth, and landed us there. 
 
 "But the third season we took with us a bigger boat, 
 a flafrscow skiff large enough to bring us back and all 
 the pelts we might take in the season. She was 
 twenty-one feet long, eight and a half wide in the 
 center, with planked sides twenty-two inches high. 
 She had two sweep-oars on the sides, and a steering 
 oar that would work on either end. 
 
 " She was a queer kind of craft, made so as not to 
 draw much water going up the river, for at that season 
 
INDIAN TALES. 25 
 
 the water was always low. In the spring, during the 
 freshets, the stream was generally deep enough in mid- 
 channel for the heaviest river craft, and that was the 
 time when we came down with our load. 
 
 " Well, we set off in the big boat at the mouth of 
 White Earth about the first of September, and by the 
 middle of the month we had worked our way a hundred 
 and twenty-five miles up the stream to the mouth of 
 Porcupine. Here we had a dug-out hut, stoned up in 
 front, which was Injun-proof (at least while we were 
 inside of it), and which we used for our winter quarters. 
 
 " We had been lucky in having never seen an Injun 
 in that vicinity, or when we were passing up or down 
 the river. There was not, however, very much risk of 
 meeting them, unless it was at a camp or a crossing, 
 and in those days the savages never seemed to hunt 
 along White Earth, except in early summer, when the 
 deer and elk came down to the bottoms -to raise their 
 fawns and calves, where there was tall grass and good 
 hiding-places. 
 
 " In fact, the only two tribes that we were afraid of 
 were the Brutes up on the Missouri and the Oglallas 
 down on the Niobrara, and we ran the risk of encoun- 
 tering them, as fellows of our craft always took their 
 chances of meeting the redskins twenty years ago. 
 
 " But we got through the winter very satisfactorily, 
 and did" not meet with any misadventure until we 
 were coming down the river in the spring, with our 
 furs, and were within a day's run of the Missouri. 
 The boat was loaded with pelts. We had on board 
 sufficient provision for the run down to Omaha, so 
 that it was not necessary to land. We had made a 
 week's bread ahead, and had placed flat stones in the 
 
26 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 scow on which to build a fire. Dry willow tops and 
 limbs of trees could be gathered as we went along, to 
 cook meat and coffee. 
 
 " Our furs were baled, and wrapped tightly in buf 
 falo skins, and these were packed around the sides of 
 the boat, so that the oars would just work over the top 
 of them. 
 
 "There was but little need, however of using the 
 oars for the riveF~was high — all back over the bot- 
 toms—and the current in the middle channel was 
 swift and strong. It took us-along about five miles an 
 hour, and we should have probably reached the 
 Missouri by noon of the second day without seeing an 
 Indian if we hadn't camped over the first night. 
 
 " Just after we had shoved out from shore on the 
 morning of the day before we reached the Missouri 
 Gil Yillemont sang out : 
 
 " Look over there, boys S "We've got company ! " 
 
 "He was in the bow. or the end that happened to be 
 the bow at the time, and pointed to the prairie to the 
 right. Thad and I looked. What should we see but 
 what seemed to us a hundred Indians, more or less, on 
 ponies, galloping down a long slope towards the river ! 
 
 " For a moment we Were so surprised that we just 
 sat and stared at them, when all at once the gang dis- 
 covered us, and brought their ponies to a standstill 
 instantly. 
 
 " Mates,' said Gil, I'm sure they are Oglallers, for 
 they always go in droves. - We had better get out of 
 gun-shot They can't come after us on horseback.' 
 
 u Gil and I seized the oars, jwhile Thad steered, and 
 turned the boat out of the channel over on to the 
 ' swash- watef ' of the bottom land. 
 
INDIAN TALES. 27 
 
 -me Indian no sooner saw us move than they set 
 
 up a yell that could have been heard a mile away, and 
 came dashing down to the water's edge. It didn't take 
 many sweeps of our long oars to run across near the 
 other shore, and then there was nearly a half-mile of 
 deep water between us and the savages. 
 
 " ' They can't bother us much now'/ said Thad, i for 
 neither their guns nor their arrows will reach us here, 
 and we shall get to the old ' Misery ' by night. So 
 let them pow-wow if they want to, or they can f oiler 
 us down the river, as they choose." 
 
 " ' Yes,' said Gil, who was a queer-talking fellow, 
 and drawled out his words when he wished to make a 
 point ; ' yes, but remember, lad, this is May and the 
 ice is out. We've hed warm spring rains a-plenty, and 
 thar's nothing under the sun to keep part of those 
 rascals from swimming over behind us, ef they should 
 take it into their heads to tackle us from both sides at 
 once.' 
 
 " That wasn't a pleasant view to take of our situa- 
 tion, and we hadn't gone two hundred rods before we 
 saw that that was exactly what the savages intended 
 to do for in a few moments a part of them rode into 
 the water and started for the opposite bank. Then 
 they slipped off behind, and each savage caught his 
 horse by the tail and steered him across. 
 
 " We at once steered our boat back again into the 
 middle of the channel, and as the stream broadened 
 out below us for a mile or so, we had a chance to pre- 
 pare for defense before we should reach narrow places 
 where the Indians would have a chance to shoot us. 
 
 " We had each a rifle, muzzle-loader, of course ; for 
 that was before the day of Winchesters. Among us 
 
28 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 we numbered fiv« big six-shot revolvers. We were 
 well-armed for the times ; but what were three men in 
 the face of a hundred Indians? Even if we had a 
 thousand guns, we couldn't use but one apiece, at a 
 time, and one of us must attend to the steering of the 
 boat. 
 
 " We judged, too,that the Indians were Qglallas, from 
 the fact that they evidently came from the south, and 
 had a large number of ponies with them besides what 
 they rode ; and we concluded that they felt sure our 
 boat was loaded with valuable furs, that could be 
 traded for guns and ammunition at the agencies. It 
 would be a great prize for them, and we felt sure that 
 they would do their best to capture our cargo. 
 
 " Gil, who'd had more than one skirmish with Indi- 
 ans, planned our defense for us. He had us stack the 
 fur-bales in three different places, one at the stern, one 
 at the bow and one midway — a row on each side, so as 
 to shelter each of us completely, while settin' between 
 them. Then he took his place in the stern to steer. 
 It was a cramped position and the most dangerous 
 one ; for when he came to a strong side current, he'd 
 be sure to have to raise up, in order to git the right 
 sweep for his oar-handle. But he was a brave fellow. 
 
 " ' JSTow, boys,' said he, when Thad an' I'd got fixed 
 in between our stacks, each with rifle, revolvers and 
 ammunition in front of him, ' I want you to keep cool, 
 boys. Don't show yourselves to get a shot. In fact, 
 don't shoot at all unless they get on a point in front of 
 us, at some of the narrows. Then we shall have to 
 drive them back; for then I must stand upimd steer 
 hard to keep the boat from the shore. Gil drawled 
 
INDIAN TALES. W 
 
 this out in his slow, queer way, and Thad and I prom- 
 ised to heed his suggestions. 
 
 " In the meantime part of the Indians had crossed, 
 and now both squads of them were galloping down, 
 one on each side of the river, to reach some of the nar- 
 rows in front of us. A mile or so ahead there was a 
 place, such as you'll find every once in a while on all 
 small "streams, a place where the high-lands came 
 crowding the valley in on both sides, and of course the 
 flood of water is pinched up into a narrower channel. 
 Luckily for us, though, in this place which would give 
 good arrow-range from both sides, the water was 
 swift, much stronger and swifter than anywhere else. 
 
 " Well, both gangs came crowding down into the 
 very edges of the water and ranged themselves out in 
 lines. Then they got off their ponies and stood in the 
 water behind them, so as to protect their bodies ; for 
 the rascals were'nt any more ready to take chances in 
 those days than they are now. Thad was in the bow. 
 He was a hare-brained fellow, but a good shot. As 
 soon as we had drifted near enough, so that we were " 
 within rifle-shot, he rose up, rested his rifle over the 
 top of his barricade, took a long, close aim, and fired. 
 
 " Gil and I both craned our heads to see if the shot 
 did execution, and I saw the nearest pony on the right 
 bank rear up and fall over into the water. The Indian 
 behind him scampered to another pony ; whereupon 
 the whole gang set up a yell and began firing their 
 guns and shooting arrows from both sides of the river. 
 
 " Of course, we were obliged to stick close to cover. 
 The arrows skipped and whizzed over our heads, and 
 the bullets struck the planks like the clatter of hail- 
 
 r 
 
30 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 stones. J Twas fortunate that we had the furs packed 
 in several folds of hard, dry buffalo skins ^ and it was 
 still more fortunate for us that we had them at all, for 
 we never could have passed those two lines of fire 
 without being 'hit, for some of the savages fired their 
 arrows into the air at such an angle that when they 
 came down they fell into our boat. More than one 
 feathered shaft buried its head in the planks on the 
 outer edge of the boat, but not one happened to hit us. 
 
 " We made the run of the narrows in about a min- 
 ute, and neither of us was wounded. As we passed 
 below we held a bale of skins at the back end of the 
 boat, so as to stop shots from the rear. In a minu„o 
 more we were out of reach. Gil laid the steering-oar 
 out straight behind, and we swept along, swiftly, down 
 the center channel. 
 
 44 As soon as we were fairly out of range on another 
 broad stretch of water, we looked up to see what the 
 Indians were doing. We rather hoped they would 
 now leave us alone after wasting so much ammunition ; 
 but we were disappointed, for they rode along the 
 highlands, on each side, and swarmed beside us like 
 two flocks of black buzzards hoyering over a wounded 
 buffalo. They knew there were more narrows ahead, 
 and they evidently hoped that in some of them the 
 current would not favor us as it had in the one we had 
 just passed. 
 
 "Well, after floating 'something more than five 
 miles, we had another gauntlet to run, and here Gil 
 had to raise his head and arms above his barricade, to 
 give an extra sweep, so as to steer us out clear of a 
 strong side-current, splitting off at a little island and 
 
INDIA!? TALES. 31 
 
 runnin' in sharp against the other bank. He could see 
 ahead enough to tell what turn, of the oar was needed ; 
 Jbut as he was giving the sweep, an arrow struck the 
 brim of his wool hat and the shaft ran clean through 
 to the feathers. There it stuck. 
 
 " ' I've got a new ornament to my head-dress/ said 
 he, cool as you please, as he leaned back again between 
 his bales. 
 
 " In a minute or two we were out of the reach of 
 their arrows again, and runnin' down-stream, between 
 two lines of thick trees, that the water roared and 
 swashed amongst "with a noise that half-drowned the 
 yells of the savages. And they did yell, fearfully, 
 every time we passed them. - . 
 
 " This was but a specimen of our experience for 
 eight or ten hours that day. The rascals were loath to 
 give us up ; and hour after hour they followed on, 
 swimmin' the mouths of creeks, keeping well to the 
 front, and shootin' at us whenever there was the 
 slightest chance of hitting the boat. 
 
 " But they either got discouraged, or else short of 
 ammunition at last ; for a little before sundown they 
 pulled up, looked after us awhile, then set off on their 
 return up stream. 
 
 " We got up then and stretched our legs and exam- 
 ined the boat and the furs. 
 
 " More than fifty arrows were sticking in the planks 
 and into the buffalo-skins of the bales, and there were 
 plenty of bullet-marks, too. It fairly looked as if the 
 old scow had feathered out, the arrows were so thick. 
 But I assure you we were glad to get off without any 
 of them in our skins. Gil was nearly beat out ; and I 
 
32 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 took his plaoe until about dark, when we shot out into 
 the Missouri, then pulled across and camped on the 
 other side for supper. We went on, however, as soon 
 as we had rested our cramped legs^a little by walking 
 about ; and a week later we got down to Omaha, safe 
 and sound, with over three thousand dollars' worth of 
 furs." 
 
IV. 
 
 A RACE FOR LIFE. 
 
 Several years before the first real settlers came to 
 build their log houses on the banks of Spirit and Oko- 
 boji Lakes, the wandering trapper and fur-hunter had 
 discovered both their beauties and their uses. 
 
 These fine lakes now furnish a summer resort for 
 hundreds of families in Iowa, and for tourists from 
 nearly all the Northern and Eastern States. Yet when 
 James Freeman and David Utter built their trapper's 
 hut, a little more than thirty years ago, at the north 
 point of -West Okoboji, there was not a settler's cabin 
 within fifty miles of them. Fifteen years ago, the 
 three sheets of water, Spirit, West and East Okoboji 
 Lakes, that every pleasant day in summer are now 
 flecked with yacht sails, had then known no boat larger 
 than a canoe. 
 
 James Freeman's first advent into this region was 
 some time about 1852, he believes, though for a long 
 period of his trapping life the years went on with him 
 so much the same that he says he " gits 'em kind o' 
 mixed." 
 
 He first saw the region when out one summer elk- 
 hunting with a party of "Johnny Green's Tribe" of 
 Chippewas. He was so delighted with the lakes that 
 he came back with his traps and spent the fall and 
 winter there, living literally in a hole like a badger's 
 duo- back in one of the banks. He had such success 
 
 o 
 
 that season that, upon returning to Prairie du Chien in 
 
 as 
 
34 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 the spring, his lean ponies loaded down with rat, mink 
 and fox skins, he easily found a partner to go back 
 with him the next fall. 
 
 It was a young man named David Utter who went 
 out with him upon the second trip. 
 
 On account of the large number of rat sloughs which 
 lay to westward and northward of the lakes, they 
 made their winter quarters on the beach at the upper 
 end of West Okoboji, which was quite bare of timber, 
 and even bushes. But the bank was high, and shel- 
 tered their cabin from the northwest winds, which, in 
 this part of the country, nearly always bring the fierc- 
 est storms. 
 
 They cut hay for their ponies and built a comfort- 
 able shed, and passed a very prosperous, though, as it 
 happened, on account of steady hard cold, a rather 
 monotonous winter. 
 
 Spring came again at last, and the early summer 
 brought the trappers back loaded with furs to James's 
 usual market at Prairie du Chien. 
 
 The two men kept quiet about the rich trapping 
 grounds they had discovered in the far northwest of 
 Iowa, but nevertheless when they returned to the 
 lakes the next fall, they found a large log cabin built 
 in the woods at the lower end of West Okoboji, and 
 four young men, brothers, from the vicinity of 
 Prairie du Chien, inhabiting it. These newcomers 
 had been exploring the region, and had discovered, by 
 the stakes left sticking in various places to mark it 
 out, the grounds already claimed by Freeman and 
 Utter, and had staked out grounds for themselves, 
 taking in "Gar" Lake, the "outlet," and several 
 miles on both banks of the Little Sioux river below. 
 
INDIAN TALES. 35 
 
 As the four young fellows — their patronymic was 
 Gilman — had shown such thorough regard for James's 
 and David's rights as trappers, the latter could find 
 no fault with them, and the six trappers came to an 
 amicable agreement to hold the lakes in common 
 against all future pioneers. 
 
 James and David took up their old quarters, seven 
 miles from the Gilmans; seven miles of beautiful, 
 clear water, plentifully stocked with fish, which 
 formed a constant source of supply for the trappers' 
 rude table. Fur and game were as abundant as ever, 
 and the outlook for the season was bright. 
 
 Yet misfortune came to them. 
 
 In the first place, David was taken down in October 
 with malarial fever, caught, no doubt, by exposure in 
 the rat-sloughs. James was compelled to stay 
 constantly by him for several weeks, though the 
 Gilman boys took turns, coming across in their canoe, 
 to sit up nights with him. 
 
 One night, when David had taken a turn for the 
 better and James was sleeping by his side, their four 
 ponies were stolen from the shed, and the settlers 
 never saw them afterwards. The animals were prob- 
 ably taken by some solitary Indian, or else by a party 
 of them. 
 
 This was not only a serious loss, but a deep cause 
 for alarm to all the trappers. James and David had 
 never seen any sign of Indians in all their trapping 
 there, except old tepee stakes and a few decayed fish- 
 drying racks along the beaches. 
 
 As David grew better, however — such is the hardi- 
 hood of the trapper — James left him bolstered up on 
 the bunk, and began to put out the traps again. 
 
36 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 It was now late in the fall, and though there was 
 no snow as yet, there had come a cold " snap " that 
 froze two or three inches of rough ice over the surface 
 of the lakes. 
 
 James had been out twice with the sled, putting 
 traps along the beach, baiting them with fish, and the 
 third day as he was returning just before sundown 
 from his beat, he happened to look off over the high 
 prairie to the northwest, when a sight met his eyes that 
 gave him a sudden and great alarm. 
 
 It was a party of horsemen coming down towards 
 the lake. He watched them a few seconds, and though 
 they were fully three miles distant, he was certain they 
 were Sioux. 
 
 " Some of 'em," he said, " have ben sneakin' round 'n' 
 stole our hosses, 'n 5 now they've gone back fer others 
 tu drive us out o' here." 
 
 As near as he could count, there were more than 
 thirty of them, and he concluded at once that their 
 bold manner of approach was to be accounted for by 
 their numbers. 
 
 James knew them of old for a daring and relentless 
 horde. But he did not wait to study the situation long ; 
 he plied his skates in a straight shoot for the cabin, 
 which was a half-mile to the north, almost directly in 
 the face of the coming horsemen. 
 
 He kept his eyes upon the latter, however, and soon 
 saw that they had discovered him and noted his move- 
 ment, for they whipped up their ponies, and headed 
 them directly toward the cabin. 
 
 But he could reach the cabin first, and he thought if 
 David were only well they might have time to barri- 
 cade and fight off the savages ; but Utter was not yet 
 
INDIAN TALES. ** 37 
 
 able to stand on his feet, and he must be saved at all 
 hazards. 
 
 James' plan was quickly made, as he dashed for- 
 ward. He reached the cabin by the time the Indians 
 had made a mile run, as he conjectured, after he came 
 where the bank hid them from view. Bursting open 
 the " shake " door, he rushed inside, without untying 
 the sledr-rope from his belt. 
 
 David was sitting up in the bunk, his back to the 
 wall, busily trying to mend an old pair of moccasins 
 with his " buckskin needle " and a " waxed end." 
 Without giving him time to say a word, James caught 
 down his partner's rifle and pistol which hung on the 
 wall, thrust them and the ammunition-bag into 
 David's hands, and catching the blankets around the 
 astounded invalid, gathered him forcibly into his arms, 
 and carried him out and deposited him upon the sled, 
 just outside the door. 
 
 " Injuns/' he said, when Dave had caught his breath 
 enough to ask what was " all this racket about ? " 
 
 " Better leave me V scoot, if there's many of 'em 
 comin'," suggested David, coolly. 
 
 " Not a thought on't, ol' boy ; you jest grit yer teeth 
 'n' hang on, V I'll pull ye through tu Gilmans'." 
 
 " Gimme your gun, too, then," said Dave. " I can 
 hang to both of 'em 'n' the sled too." 
 
 His growing excitement gave him strength. 
 
 " All right, Dave, ye kin try it," said James, who 
 was now busily strapping a small box of powder and 
 lead upon the rounds of the sled, between Dave's legs ; 
 when he had secured the latter he strapped Dave's legs 
 down, too. 
 
 ^MDan't roll off if ye try, now," he exclaimed ; and he 
 
38 INDIAN TALES. *< 
 
 delayed yet a moment longer to fasten the blankets 
 around the poor weak boy's body. " Now we'll streak 
 it, Davy, straight shoot for Gilmans' ! " 
 
 Away the brave fellow darted, dragging the sled 
 with its precious freight at his heels. 
 
 As soon as he had got out on the lake from under 
 the bluff where he could glance back over the high 
 bank, the intrepid skater saw that he had not a half- 
 mile the start of the Indians. They were coming as 
 fast as their ponies could carry them ; and they set up 
 the usual hideous yelling when they sighted the 
 whites. 
 
 " Lot of 'em, ain't they ? " said David, in his 
 squeaky, weak voice, after twisting his neck for a 
 look at the Indians. " They'll try to ketch us on them 
 p'ints down yender, Jim." 
 
 " Yes ! " shouted Freeman. " Don't bother me with 
 talk ; I've got ter work now ! " 
 
 James had understood the danger from his very first 
 thought of this plan of escape. The two points of 
 land that project into the water, the one on the left, 
 about three miles down the lake, and the other on the 
 right, nearly opposite the Gilman cabin, would either 
 of them give the Indians a chance to cut him off, if 
 they could get out on them before he passed. 
 
 If the ice had only been smooth, he would have 
 laughed at his pursuers, well knowing that he could 
 reach Gilmans' before they got half-way down the 
 lake; and once with those four sturdy, well-armed 
 fellows, there in the woods, he would not fear fifty 
 Indians. But the ice was rough, and do his best, he 
 knew he could not drag that loaded sled and make 
 more than twelve miles an hour; and the chances 
 
INDIAN TALES. 39 
 
 were that the ponies on the smooth prairie would 
 considerably exceed that rate. Still he hoped for the 
 best, and skated at his handsomest pace. 
 
 As he and Dave had expected, the Sioux saw their 
 advantage; and without losing a moment, they 
 divided into two parties at the head of the lake, and 
 came yelling down both shores at the top of their 
 horses' speed. 
 
 It was a hard race for James. On the left-hand 
 side, an inward curve of the lake gave that party of 
 the savages an advantage ; but on the other hand, an 
 outward sweep of the shore would compel the others 
 to go round. In ten minutes the Sioux on the left 
 bank were neck and neck with the skater ; and their 
 shouts came across the quarter-mile of ice with start- 
 ling distinctness. 
 
 "Better cut me loose," squeaked David; "you 
 can't save us both, old fellow." 
 
 " No, never ! " growled Jim, and then bending for- 
 ward and hugging the shore a little closer, where the 
 ice was more smooth he lent his energy to a splendid 
 trial of speed, that carried him ahead of the foremost 
 Indian, and passed the point in advance of him — the 
 whole gang of them whooping and screeching fright- 
 fully to flurry the fugitives. Several shots were fired ; 
 the bullets pattered on the ice behind the sled, but 
 did not strike it. 
 
 David could hardly contain himself at this successful 
 run. He cheered and crowed, in his weak way, but 
 so earnestly, nevertheless, that it warmed the heart of 
 the brave, cool skater. It added a mile an hour to his 
 speed, he said, " ter hear Dave squawk." 
 
 Fast as he was skating, however, he kept a cautious 
 
40 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 eye on the Indians who were now flying along the 
 right-hand bank, to cut him off at the lower point. 
 They were gaining ground and rounding the broad 
 curve of the shore. y_Five or six of them seemed to be 
 mounted on swifter ponies than the rest, and were con- 
 siderably ahead, riding scattered out in line, their 
 bodies lying nearly flat along their animals' backs, so 
 as to catch as little wind as possible, and each Indian 
 plying his quirt with downward strokes and desperate 
 energy. 
 
 " S-c-r-r-r-t-t / S-c-r-r-r-t-t ! Jim's skates scratched 
 over the ice-ridges, while Dave sat "stiffening" his 
 back, hugging the rifles and watching the Sioux. 
 
 It had already begun to get dusk a little as James 
 and his sled came within shooting range of the point. 
 The foremost Indians had already reached the extreme 
 end of the little cape, and were jumping from their 
 ponies for a run across the ice. James veered off 
 somewhat ; but he dared not go much out of a direct 
 line for Gilmans' ; for if the Indians should once suc- 
 ceed in getting between them and the cabin of their 
 friends, there would be no hope of escape. 
 
 The trapper was now terribly fatigued ; )ialf an hour 
 of such tremendous exertion was beginning to weary 
 his muscles. Nevertheless, he nerved himself for one 
 more desperate rush, and then, as Dave afterwards 
 said, he " went like lightning." 
 
 The growing darkness saved them ; for six or seven 
 of the savages had left their horses and got out within 
 easy range as they passed the point, and spreading out 
 in line on the ice, began firing guns and shooting 
 arrows at them. 
 
 Bullets, buckshot and feathered shafts whistled past 
 
INDIAN TALES. 
 
 41 
 
 and over them ; but they were going swiftly ; the twi- 
 light favored them, and strange as it may seem, they 
 got past without a wound. . 
 
 The Indians did not follow them, probably from 
 knowing that the other trappers were in the woods 
 just ahead. After a few minutes more, Jim slowed up 
 
 Bullets, buckshot and feathered shafts whistled past them. 
 
 to get breath ; for he had nearly lost it entirely in his 
 last hard effort. 
 
 David was too tired and " done out in his back " to 
 crow much this time. The jolting and jerking of the 
 sled in the roughest spots had been a hard strain upon 
 his feeble strength. 
 
 As they neared the woods, they saw three figures 
 
42 
 
 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 hurrying out on the ice to meet them. The Gilman 
 boys had heard the last firing, and had rushed out to 
 see what it meant. James panted forth his story in a 
 few words. The ride did not injure David. He rap- 
 idly recovered. 
 
A BAD "MEDICINE MAN." 
 
 About ten years ago — it was the autumn of 1877 — 
 the writer, being at that time one of a firm of con- 
 tractors engaged in furnishing hay and wood to the 
 Government posts on the upper Missouri, met with an 
 adventure which may prove interesting to such as like 
 accounts of personal encounter and peril. 
 
 Upon referring to my diary for that year, I find 
 that on the fourteenth day of September, being then 
 at Fort Randall, I had set off to return to Yankton. 
 I had reached Fort Randall, some time previously, on 
 one of the freight-steamers which brave the currents 
 and sand-bars of this most fickle of all navigable 
 rivers, but had failed to finish my business there in 
 time to catch the return steamer of the Benton Line; 
 and when, at length, I was ready for the journey, I 
 found that I should not be able to get a boat down the 
 river again for at least three weeks. 
 
 As I could not possibly wait so long, I went to our 
 " wood camp," some fifteen miles above Fort Randall, 
 and procured a horse and saddle from one of my 
 partners who had charge of our working force 
 stationed at that point. 
 
 As my home was on the river, some miles below 
 Yankton, I had fully two days' ride before me, and 
 there was no agency nor post near the end of my first 
 day's ride ; consequently I should be obliged either to 
 camp by myself, or spend the night in the hut^ or 
 tepee, of a Yankton Sioux. 
 
 43 
 
44 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 I concluded to adopt the alternative of lying out by 
 myself; for I had been inside a great many Indian 
 habitations, and had learned to prefer the pure air of 
 the open prairie to the odors of &4epee, and my own 
 cookery to that of any squaw. Indeed, I would not 
 have hesitated for a moment about the matter, but for 
 the fact that, at the time of which I write, it was not 
 ( a safe plan for a lone traveler to make a night camp, 
 even among the most reputable of the reservation 
 Sioux. 
 
 He might sleep in their tepees, among their families, 
 with comparative safety. He could not be made way 
 with there, without incurring a risk which the cun- 
 ning rascals well understood. But a lone camper, 
 sleeping in the woods, or on the prairie, was still a 
 strong temptation to the enmity of the " white man's 
 hater," as most of the Sioux loved to call themselves. 
 
 It was, at this time, a frequent occurrence that spme 
 lone trapper, or traveler, between the posts on the 
 upper Missouri was missing, and such an one usually 
 was never seen or heard from again 
 
 From our wood camp, within three years, two men 
 had disappeared mysteriously — one a trapper, named 
 Bret, the other a Norwegian wood-chopper. 
 
 But such is the hardihood of pioneers, living amid 
 constant dangers, that I gave but slight heed to these 
 things; and having procured a loaf of bread, some bacon, 
 coffee, a small skillet and a tin cup, at the wood canr^, 
 I packed them with my blankets, tied the bundle oa 
 behind my saddle, and thus equipped, set out, with the 
 determination to eamp where night should overtake 
 me, and to be in Yankton within thirty-six hours. 
 
 The day was exceedingly warm for that time of the 
 
INDIAN TALES. 45 
 
 year, and I was obliged to travel slowly, the more so 
 since my horse was rough-gaited and a poor traveler. 
 
 At noon I pulled up near the log cabin of a Yankton 
 Sioux with whom I happened to have an acquaintance. 
 His name was Kotonka Washta (Good Buffalo), and, 
 for an Indian, he was possessed of remarkable intelli- 
 gence and industry. He owned seventy ponies, six 
 cows, fourteen dogs and three squaws ; and the latter 
 had cultivated, during the summer, a considerable field 
 of corn, pumpkins and melons. 
 
 Kotonka himself was not at home, but from his 
 women I bought a few roasting ears, picked from a patch 
 of late sweet corn, and a couple of melons, which were 
 " prime ripe " and luscious. 
 
 The afternoon was hotter even than the morning; 
 the" air was "muggy" and at times almost stifling. 
 I could hardly spur my horse along at any reasonable 
 pace ; and, at last, after I had made about fifteen miles 
 from Kotonka's place, he became exhausted and refused 
 to go further. 
 
 It was now about five o'clock, and I picked a camp- 
 ing spot near at hand and made preparations to spend 
 the night there. The place which I chose was a little 
 knoll on the high land, overlooking the valley of a 
 small creek which here runs into the Missouri. 
 
 It was not in a region that I liked ; but I was com- 
 pelled to accept the situation, so I unsaddled my 
 wretched horse, turned him loose for the present, and 
 began to make arrangements for my supper. I went to 
 rest early, thinking that if my horse should prove able 
 to travel, I would get up and be off by two or three 
 o'clock in the morning. 
 
 There were several sets of old tepee stakes standing 
 
46 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 along the bank just at the foot of the knoll ; and as I 
 knew from past experience that these were excellent 
 material for camp-fires, I went immediately down to 
 pull some of them up for the purpose. 
 
 While doing so, my attention was attracted to a 
 dense thicket of plum-trees, which grew along the 
 creek below me, and looking closely, I saw that the 
 tops of many of them were red with fruit. This was 
 an attraction not to be resisted; and dropping the 
 stakes which I had pulled, I made my way through the 
 copse of hazel brush and small scrub-oak bushes which 
 grew on the side hill, and soon found myself in the 
 midst of the very finest plum-grove which I had ever 
 seen. 
 
 There were growing here several varieties of the 
 wild plum, with red, yellow, and variegated skins. 
 Nearly all these were now " dead ripe " ; and under 
 many of the trees the ground was thickly strewn with 
 those that had fallen from over-ripeness, or been 
 shaken off by the wind. 
 
 The trees were tall for the kind, and stood thickly 
 together, completely shading the ground, which was 
 almost bare of vegetation beneath their boughs. 
 
 I selected a tree where the fruit upon the ground 
 best suited my taste, and after giving it a thorough 
 shaking, which brought down a small shower of large, 
 bluish-red plums, I squatted upon the ground, and began 
 eating and filling my hat. This enjoyable business 
 had proceeded for some minutes, and both the hat and 
 my internal capacity had nearly all the fruit they 
 could hold, when I suddenly felt a sensation of the 
 near presence of some living thing ! 
 
 I can not describe the feeling, but there came over 
 
IKDIAN TALES. 4f 
 
 me a warning sense of being watched by human eyes, 
 and of being in personal danger. This feeling was so 
 keen and alarming, that for a moment it held me spell- 
 bound, and I dared not look to the right or the left. 
 Almost unconsciously, though, my right hand stole 
 back to my hip and grasped the handle of a Colt 
 revolver (the only weapon which I carried) that hung 
 in a sheath at my belt. 
 
 Then I glanced quickly up— to the left — and found 
 myself, as I had expected I should, looking squarely 
 into the malicious eyes of the ugliest being it was ever 
 my lot to face. The visage was bedaubed with a 
 hideous coat of paint, green on the cheeks and lower 
 jaws, with circles of black under the eyes, and with 
 vermilion stripes across the forehead. 
 
 The savage wore a green blanket around his shoul- 
 ders, over which peeped the horn of a bow and top of 
 a quiver of arrows. He had a black, slouched, felt 
 hat on his head, and a pair of blue soldier's trousers 
 belted at the waist. 
 
 He was standing not thirty feet distant from me, 
 partly concealed by the slim trunks of the plum-trees, 
 and stood stock-still when I first caught sight of him; 
 but I could distinguish his position plainly enough, to 
 see that he had been stealing toward me on tip-toe, and 
 that his right hand rested on the hilt of a knife in his 
 belt ! His eyes were like those of snakes. 
 
 I confess that I was startled. He was a Sioux medi- 
 cine man— one of a class of as venomous wretches as 
 ever moved in human form. 
 
 But without moving from my squatting position, I 
 whipped out my Colt's revolver, and u pulled down " on 
 hiuo* 
 
48 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 "Huhf" he grunted, in evident alarm, and then 
 stepping out into an open space, he threw up both 
 hands, and exclaimed, " No shoot ! me heap friend I " 
 
 The scoundrel ! I knew better. As he stood there, 
 I eyed him for a moment, trying to make up my mind 
 whether I ought to shoot him down, and avoid farther 
 risk, or order him off, and trust to my wits to escape 
 the arrow which I felt sure he would now send through 
 my skin if he was given a chance. 
 
 But bad as he looked, and treacherous as I knew he 
 was, I could not bring myself to shoot him. 
 
 " Go on ! " said I, at length, in as savage a voice as I 
 could command. "Go!" 
 
 He walked past me, and disappeared among the 
 plum-trees — never looking once to the right Or left. 
 
 "When he was out of sight I got up, and backed 
 quickly and softly away, in the opposite direction, 
 until I had got out of the plum thicket, when I 
 turned and hurried up the hill through the hazel 
 brush and oak shrubs. You may be sure that I kept 
 my eyes on alTsides of me as I went^-and I had need 
 to ; for before I reached the edge of the copse, that 
 painted rascal rose up from the brush not fifty feet 
 away, and let fly an arrow. I saw him rise up just in 
 time to make a spring to one side, but his feathered 
 shaft hurtled by terribly close to my body. 
 
 I had my revolver cocked in my hand, and instantly 
 returned a bullet for his arrow, as he dodged down 
 into cover again. 
 
 I was a tolerably quick shot in those days, and I 
 think I hurt him, for he jumped up with a yell, 
 dropped his bow, bounded zigzag away through the 
 bushes, and got out of sight and range in a remarkably 
 
INDIAN TALES. 49 
 
 short space of time. Yet, as he ran, I sent two more 
 shots at him, but, of course, without any certainty of 
 aim. He was out of sight and reach in a few seconds. 
 
 I then went back to my packs and the horse on the 
 knoll, and thought over the situation. 
 
 After reflection, I concluded that my falling in with 
 him was probably a chance meeting. These medicine 
 men are very solitary in their habits, and this one had 
 probably been prowling about by himself after their 
 fashion. No doubt he had been in the plum grove 
 there, and watched my coming at his leisure. Seeing 
 me busily occupied in filling my hat and my 
 mouth with plums, he had determined to steal 
 up behind me, and kill me. Now that I had 
 so signally thwarted him, he would have, t I felt 
 sure, a double incentive to murder me, that I might 
 not report him at the forts, yet so confident did 
 I feel of having hit him pretty hard, that I did not 
 much fear his coming back. Nevertheless, as soon as 
 I had cooked and eaten some supper, I packed up and 
 started on again, by the hazy moonlight, determined 
 to move as far, at least, as I could get my horse to go. 
 
 I crossed the creek at a point considerably above 
 the plum thicket, where there was no brush, and 
 thence pushed my horse along at a good walking pace 
 over the rolling prairie. The old beast did better in 
 the cool of night, and stood up to his work so well 
 that by nine o'clock, next morning, we got into 
 Yankton. I still have the medicine man's bow — an 
 ash one tipped with buffalo horns — as a souvenir of 
 Qur little fracas in the plum thicket. 
 
VI. 
 
 SAVED BY A "JACK."— THE COW-BOY'S STORY. 
 
 One hot evening in the summer of 187- the writer, 
 with three other young men, was camped on the banks 
 of the South Platte river, some seventy miles above 
 the little station of Julesburg. We had unharnessed 
 the horses of our big wagon, and picketed them out to 
 feed near the high stockade of a solitary ranch station. 
 Over the top of the stockade posts the grass-grown 
 roofs of several adobe cabins were visible. On the roof 
 of one of these a half-grown antelope kid was indus- 
 triously cropping the herbage, and by its side lay 
 another, serenely asleep, its head thrown back over its 
 shoulder. 
 
 Beyond the stockade, and adjoining it, was another 
 inclosure of several acres, surrounded by a high board 
 fence ; a large stock corral, in fact, in which several 
 ponies were standing, lazily whisking away the flies, 
 evidently too much overcome by the heat to make any 
 further exertion. These and the antelopes were the 
 only signs of life about the place. 
 
 " Guess this ranch takes care of itself," remarked one 
 of our party, who, at that moment, was attending to a 
 skillet of venison steak over a fire of dry drift-sticks, 
 which we had picked up on the bank of the river. 
 " Guess old Cliff would stir up these fellows, if he knew 
 they all went off 'n' left the houses with a couple of 
 tame antelopes for guards." 
 
 On first halting for the night, we had rattled at the 
 
 50 
 
INDIAN TALES. 51 
 
 gate of the stockade, in the hope that we might be let 
 in and given a chance for fresh water at the well ; but 
 the gate was barred inside, and the premises were 
 apparently deserted. We rather wondered at that, for 
 we had heard of this ranch, and knew it to be oner of 
 the " Cattle King " Cliff's out-posts — a " round-up " point 
 for the east half of the great range over which his 
 thousands of cattle fed, winter and summer. 
 
 But as we sat down to our supper of biscuits, steak, 
 canned tomatoes, and coffee, we heard the big gate of 
 the stockade squeak on its hinges, and a moment later 
 there sauntered out to us a tall, strapping young fellow, 
 in a woollen shirt and buckskin leggins. He had on 
 his head a wide-brimmed, white wool hat, with red 
 leather band, and on his feet high-topped, high-heeled 
 boots, at the counters of which jingled a pair of Spanish 
 spurs. 
 
 There was also a pair of big " Colt's " in his belt 
 His woollen shirt was open in front, the sleeves were 
 rolled up to the elbows, and the deep tan-color of his 
 arms matched well the bronze of breast, neck and face. 
 He had the biggest and fiercest of black moustaches, and 
 a pair of sharp black eyes to match it. 
 
 A remarkable figure, perhaps the reader may think, 
 but one that, with some modification of form or feature, 
 will soon grow familiar to the camper in the " cattle 
 country." 
 
 " Hullo, fellows ! " said this specimen cow-boy as he 
 came up and leaned his elbow upon the hind wheel of 
 our wagon. ^ 
 
 "Hullo ! " said we ; and then, in the short, suggest- 
 i ve parlance of the country, we asked, " Eat ? " 
 
 "JYou bet ! " was the cheerful rejoinder, and the 
 
52 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 stockman flung himself down into the circle about our 
 oil-cloth, was helped to a pint cup of coffee and some 
 tomatoes, and helpe4 himself liberally to biscuit and 
 fried antelope. 
 
 (l Got nothin' but cold grub in the ranch," he ex- 
 plained between mouthfuls, " an' it's too mighty hot to 
 make fires now. Nobody here but me ; boys gone up 
 on Lodge Pole to run in strays. Be'n asleep all the 
 afternoon. .Rattled the gate, did ye? Wal, now, I 
 must be a snoozer ! Ouris what risks a man'll take in 
 this country. Now, here's you fellows trailin' about 
 all alone, the four of ye, an' me here a-sleepin' alone in 
 a 'dobe, an' six hundred Cheyennes turned loose on the 
 country above ! 
 
 " Fact," he said, coolly, noticing our looks of surprise, 
 not unmixed with alarm. " Yes, sir ; runner comr 
 down from the ranch above 'n' warned me yisterday^ 
 They've gutted one ranch up there, killed a cow-man, 
 'n' run off a lot o' stock ; expect 'em down here any 
 time. A lot of 'em come down here last year, and 
 caught us snoozin', right in broad day noon, too." 
 
 The reader may be sure we were not a little alarmed 
 at such news, though we hardly knew whether to credit 
 the fellow's words or not. 
 
 He might be trying on the cow-boy's and miner's 
 favorite pastime — that of " stuffing," or frightening, 
 rf tenderfeet ; " but he gave us further particulars in an 
 honest, matter-of-fact way, and after supper invited us 
 to haul our wagon inside the stock corral, and to spend 
 the night with him in one of the adobes. So we con- 
 cluded at length that he was acting — as, indeed, after- 
 ward proved to be the fact — in good faith. 
 
 Having accepted his invitation to a shelter for the 
 
INDIAN TALE8. 53 
 
 night, we were soon established in one of the long, 
 cool adobes. 
 
 Our horses had been picketed as close to the stockade 
 as the grazing limit would allow. 
 
 "You'll have to take the resk on the stock, in 
 course," said Briggs — he had given us his name in the 
 course of our conversation. "We all have to take 
 them resks, but I reckon there's no danger to yerselves 
 in here. The Cheyennes caught us napping here once, 
 as I was a-tellin' ye, an' they won't calc'late on doin' it 
 again. 
 
 u Tell ye about that, if ye like. 'Twas kind o' scaly 
 times for Gowan an' me, but there was a heap o' fun 
 in it too." 
 
 Of course, we were only too glad to listen' to his 
 account. 
 
 " It was jest about a year ago now," he said, " when 
 Ed Gowan and me was keepin' the ranch alone, while 
 the other three boys — there's gener'ly five of us stays 
 here — was up river a-helpin' brand a new lot o' steers 
 jest druv in frum Texas. 
 
 " There wasn't nobody along the river a-thinkin' of 
 Injun trouble then, an' as for Ed an' me, we hadn't 
 seen one for nigh a year. We stayed close round the 
 ranch here, though, for a week after the boys went off. 
 Then we begun to feel mighty restless. 
 
 " Then, too, we was expectin' the boys back ev'ry 
 hour. We calc'lated 'twouldn't be no harm to leave 
 the ranch for a half day's hunt. We was tired o' beef 
 an' bacon, an' we knew where to go to find plenty of 
 antelope." 
 
 " We saddled our ponies, an' struck out that afternoon. 
 We rode up into the ' rock country, 'bout twelve miles 
 
54r INDIAN TALES. 
 
 north o' here, among the big canons an' cuts, an* we 
 found plenty of antelope. We'd killed five by dark, 
 but by the time we could gather their saddles an' pack 
 our extra horses, which we'd took two, an' get back to 
 the ranch, it was nigh daylight next morning. 
 
 " The boys hadn't come, so, as we was mighty tired 
 an' hungry an' sleepy, we turned our ponies in with 
 the other stock in the big corral, and got us some 
 breakfast ; then we piled onto a couple of bunks, and- 
 was soon sleepin'. 
 
 " I was woke up by a punch in the ribs, an' when I'd 
 come to myself 'nough' to get my eyes rubbed open, I 
 saw that there was a half-a-dozen naked, greasy Chey- 
 ennes in the room, standing around a-grinnin' at us. I 
 saw, too, that Ed was awake, an' that they'd gathered 
 up all our shootin' irons, an' that we was both prisoners, 
 in our own shanty. 
 
 " I needn't tell ye that we both felt mighty foolish 
 and badly scared, though we put on as bold a face as 
 we could. Ed was the bravest though, and the cool- 
 est. He'd ben a trapeze performer along with Mont- 
 gomery Queen's big show. He was all muscles an' 
 siners, up to all sorts of tricks, and as spry as a cat. 
 
 " Wal, sir, soon as Ed saw how 'twas, he reached out 
 his hand to the nearest buck, an' says, says 'e, * How 
 do brudder ? ' 
 
 " 'How 1 ' says the Injun, an' all of 'em grunted an' 
 grinned. 
 
 " But jest then there was a terrible commotion and 
 a-yellin' ' outside, an' two or three of the Injuns rushed 
 out. The others wanted -to see the rumpus, too, I 
 'xpect, for they turned to us, and motioned us out of 
 the door. We got up, and walked out, with an Injun 
 
INDIAN TALES. 55 
 
 in front an' two behind us. As we got out the door, 
 we heard a frightful yelhV outside the stockade. 
 There was six or seven Cheyennesdancin' and screechin' 
 like they'd gone plum crazy. But the biggest fun was 
 what was goin' on inside the stock corral, and we soon 
 saw that the dancin' bucks was a-laughin 5 , though you'd 
 never guess at that by jest listenin' to 'ein. 
 
 "You see one of their fellows, thinkin', of course, 
 he'd have an easy job, had rode into the corral to drive 
 out the stock — there was thirteen ridin' ponies and 
 
 three or four colts. But there was a customer in there 
 that the Cheyenne hadn't reckoned on. It was a big 
 jack, jest the ugliest, orneriest critter ever you set eyes 
 on. He never 'lowed any strangers inside that corral 
 if he could help it, an' he gen'ly could, an' that was 
 one reason we kep' hirar 
 
 " Wal, he'd got after Mr. Cheyenne, an' he was goin' 
 for him most savagely 
 
 " When we first saw ihe race, the Injun was clear up 
 
56 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 on his pony's neck, a-clingin' for dear life, and the jack 
 was right up alongside, with his jaws wide open. The 
 Cheyenne had lost holt o' his reins, an' was jest hangin' 
 over on the opposite side of his horse's neck, and there 
 they was, goin' round and round, the jack a-grabbin' 
 an' bitin' at the Injun, an' a-brayin' an' squealin' till you 
 could a-heerd him a mile. An' the best of it all was, 
 that them Cheyennes outside all seemed to think it was 
 the biggest kind of fun. 
 
 " Talk about an Injun's not laughin', why, fellows, 
 they nigh busted their throats. They clapped their 
 hands onto their stomachs, an' doubled up like jack- 
 knives. Ed and me laughed, too. I don't believe we 
 could 'a' helped it if we'd known they'd kill us the next 
 minute. 
 
 " But matters soon begun to get pretty ser'ous inside 
 the corral ; the Injun darsn't git off his pony, for he 
 could see mighty plain that the jack was after him. 
 
 " He'd 'a' got the fellow, too, if his pony hadn't a-ben 
 such a smart little critter; the mustang seemed to 
 know that his master was in danger, for he kept flying 
 right round in a short circle, keepin' away from the 
 fence, and keepin' the jack on the outside o' his circle. 
 
 " But the Injun' was awful scared, he couldn't use his 
 weapons if he had any, an' he just hung on an' yelled 
 to the others, for help I 'xpect, though, of course, we 
 couldn't understand. But it must a-ben, for pretty 
 soon they stopped their laughin', an' all but two that 
 was left to guard us jumped on their ponies, rode into 
 the corral, an' with a big whoop made a dash for the 
 jack. 
 
 "I didn't have time to watch the outcome of it, for 
 all at once I see Ed jump at one of the guards, an; 
 
INDIAN TALES. 57 
 
 strike out. The Cheyenne went down like a stone, an' 
 before I could gather my wits enough to make a move, 
 he turned, sprung onto the other one, wrenched a "Win- 
 chester rifle out of his hands, an' knocked him down 
 with it. 
 
 " 1 thought it was time then for me to take a hand 
 in the fight, an' seein' the first Injun that Ed had hit 
 try in' to git up again, I made a jump for him, an' 
 snatched his gun out of his hands ; it wasn't much of a 
 job, for he was half stunned yet from the rap Ed had 
 give him. 
 
 " ' Come on, Jim ! ' I heard Ed say then. ' Don't 
 shoot ! Get inside the gate ! ' 
 
 " I was glad enough to obey orders, I tell ye, an' 
 leavin' the two Cheyennes to come to their senses, 1 
 followed Ed at a run. "We got inside the stockade, an 5 
 barred the gate, then we run into this, 'dobe here, an' 
 fastened the door. 
 
 "'You bet they won't. come for us now,' said Ed, 
 'I'm fixed for 'em, an' so are you pretty well,' an' 
 lookin' at him I saw he'd not only got the last Injun's 
 Winchester, but he took off his belt of cartridges, an' 
 brought that, too. I had a Springfield carbine in my 
 hands, so we didn't much fear 'em. 
 
 " They made an awful racket outside, but they didn't 
 fire a shot, an' pretty soon things quieted down, an' 
 we heard 'em drivin' off the stock. 
 
 " After a while we unfastened the door, an' got up 
 on top of the 'dobe, an' then we could see the whole 
 gang drivin' our ponies across the hills to the north. 
 
 " 'Guess I didn't hurt those fellows much,' said Ed, 
 'but look, they've made an end of old Jack ;' an' sure 
 enough we could see him in the corral chucked full of 
 
58 . INDIAN TALES. 
 
 arrows. They had to kill him I 'xpect, or he'd i, run 
 'em all out. The next day the boys come down, an' 
 one of the range bosses, an' I 'expected we'd get the 
 bounce ; but when he heard how 'twas, he jest laughed, 
 and sent for more ponies." 
 
 We stayed that night with the young ranchman, and 
 pushed on again the next morning, but learned, on 
 reaching the ranches above, the day after, that we had 
 narrowly escaped a brush with a large party of Chey- 
 enhes. The}' had passed over the trail not more than 
 two hours ahead of us, on their way south again, evi- 
 dently fearing pursuit from the troops at Fort Collins 
 and Cheyenne. Such was life on the plains but ten 
 years ago, where now are large and thriving settle- 
 ments, as safe from Indian raids as the goal old city oi 
 Boston. 
 
vn. 
 
 A WOMAN'S BRAVE EXPLOIT. 
 
 As early as 1834 a few hardy pioneers ventured to 
 build cabins upon the western banks of the Upper 
 Mississippi, and to move their families into them. One 
 of these bold men was William Gleason, who, with a 
 yoke of oxen, a cart containing household effects and 
 a cow, moved with his young wife from the lead mines 
 at Mineral Point in the spring of the year mentioned, 
 and settled at the mouth of the Little Pinnicon (little 
 turkey). 
 
 He was attracted thither by the tales of two young 
 trappers whom he had met at the old French town of 
 Prairie du Chien, the winter before. They told him 
 of the black, rich land in the valley of the Little Pin- 
 nicon, with scarce a stick of timber in the way, though 
 the bluffs on either hand were lined and covered with 
 oak, butternut, hickory and poplar. Their stories 
 of bear, deer, beaver and mink stirred his hunter's 
 heart. 
 
 These young men — Simpson Briggs and John Ellery 
 — had marked out each a squatter's claim, and, not 
 intending to spend their lives as mere trappers and 
 hunters, wished to have neighbors. In the end, 
 Gleason agreed to come, and ' accordingly set a time 
 when, with his wife and his goods, he would be at 
 Prairie du Chien, where the young men agreed to meet 
 him. 
 
 True to their word, Briggs and Ellery were awaiting 
 
 59 
 
60 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 them in camp at the " Prairie " when Gleason and his 
 wife arrived. The two trappers guided the settlers on 
 a three days' journey over prairies and among wooded 
 hills, and finally brought them, with their effects, to 
 the bank of the great river at a point opposite the 
 mouth of Little Pinnicon. 
 
 Here a strong bateau, with mast and sail in the bot- 
 tom, lay hidden among rocks. The enterprising trap- 
 pers had provided themselves with this boat as a means 
 of freighting their packs of deerskins, buffalo hides and 
 furs to markets down the river. Its size and strength 
 enabled them in two trips to set the Gleasons, with 
 their household goods and stock, upon ground which 
 was henceforth to be their own. 
 
 There a surprise awaited the newcomers. As they 
 mounted the bank of the little creek at the mouth of 
 which they had landed, John Ellery pointed to a little 
 tree-grown knoll some two hundred yards distant. 
 
 " Yonder's your cabin ready fer to move in," said he, 
 " an' thar's good water in a spring down thar not fifty 
 steps f rum it." 
 
 " Thar's room enough fer four," said Gleason, as, a 
 few minutes later, the party surveyed a comfortable 
 log structure with strong " shake" roof and stone fire- 
 place and chimney. 
 
 " Yes," said the young wife, gratefully ; " and it shall 
 be both yer homes till ye bring wives of yer own up 
 the river." 
 
 Thus did the generous and brave backwoodsmen aid 
 each other in the pioneer work which has laid the 
 foundation of populous states. 
 
 That evening the party of four sat round a rudely 
 constructed table upon the puncheon floor of their new 
 
IONIAN TALES, 51 
 
 home, and ate with great contentment a supper of warm 
 biscuit, broiled duck and coffee. ,The next day, by 
 the aid of the oxen and a stub of a plow, a "single 
 breaker," a " truck patch " was ploughed, and before 
 the sun set was planted with seeds which had been 
 carefully hoarded. A week later more than three acres 
 had been thoroughly " stirred " .and planted to corn, 
 squashes and pumpkins. 
 
 A fine crop was raised that year, bringing in autumn 
 such abundant variety to their table that this little 
 band of pioneers felt themselves to be living in the 
 very " lap of luxury." Of game — the house when the 
 men were at home was an arsenal of guns — they had 
 such abundance as three good hunters, with ample 
 opportunities, could secure. Even Mrs. Gleason was 
 provided with a gun, a short, flint-lock fowling-piece, 
 which she knew how to use, and upon which she put 
 much reliance for protection when the men were all 
 away from the cabin. 
 
 Briggs and Ellery were often away upon trapping 
 and hunting excursions. In September they rode away 
 upon their ponies to the west to shoot buffalo, and 
 walked back at the end of the hunt leading their ponies 
 heavily laden with hides. They had to go only a three 
 days' journey from the river, to strike the Buffalo 
 " range," now dwindled from its former vast propor- 
 tions to the limits of the National Park in Wyoming, 
 where a straggling band of buffaloes still exists, pro- 
 tected by United States soldiers. 
 
 These isolated settlers lived in constant danger, for 
 the country all about them was the common hunting- 
 ground of bands of Winnebagoes, Pottawatomies and 
 Musquakies, and occasionally Sioux. These last were 
 
62 INDIAN TALES. - 
 
 far more to be dreaded than the others, as Black ' 
 Hawk's war had given the lesser and nearer tribes a 
 wholesome fear of the soldiers, stationed at various 
 posts throughout the region. 
 
 No Indian was trusted, unless thoroughly known to 
 be the white man's friend, and of the three men living 
 at the Little Pinnieon, one always remained near the 
 cabin. When the trappers were away, Gleason stayed 
 close at home, busying himself with the building of 
 stables, yard and fence, or with improvements upon 
 the cabin. To the latter he added in time a bedroom 
 for himself and wife, and a general storage-room for 
 provender of all sorts. 
 
 Flour, coffee, sugar and other necessities were got at 
 Prairie du Chien by Briggs and Ellery, who made the 
 trip in their bateau. 
 
 Early in autumn straggling bands of Indian hunters 
 sometimes stopped at the Pinnieon cabin to beg for 
 "tobaa" and "sug," which, as the supplies were limi- 
 ted, had to be denied them. 
 
 Winter came and passed without incident to the set- 
 tlers, save such as their hunts afforded. These were 
 often stirring or amusing, and their recital served to 
 make the evening pass pleasantly before the crackling 
 back-logs of the fire-place. 
 
 Thus time passed until " planting-time " came and 
 went, and still the little band remained unmolested. 
 About the first of June, Briggs and Ellery, with the 
 bateau well loaded with the " spring catch," set out for 
 Prairie du Chien. 
 
 They had been gone twelve days, and their return 
 was momentarily and somewhat anxiously looked for 
 by the Gleasons, who were out Of flour and some other 
 
INDIAN TALES. ' 63 
 
 necessities. It was on the morning of this twelfth day 
 that Bill, as his wife and the others called Gleason, 
 came hurrying to the cabin. 
 
 "Sallie," said he, with much excitement, "there's a 
 big band of elk 'bout a mile up creek, an' I'm goin' 
 after 'em ! Won't be gone long." 
 
 " Go ahead, Bill," said his wife. " I can take care 
 o' myself a few hours." He snatched down his rifle 
 from its pegs, and hurried out. 
 
 He had been gone not much more than an hour, when 
 a young dog chained near the door began to bark. 
 Mrs. Gleason looked out, and saw coming down the 
 river, half a mile away, a string of horsemen whom 
 she knew at once to be Indians. 
 
 She watched them a moment. Whether it was the 
 manner in which they rode, or the fact that she was 
 alone that alarmed her, she did not know, but accus- 
 tomed though she was to the lonely life of the fron- 
 tier, she was frightened. She immediately shut and 
 bolted the door, and with table and stools hastily 
 barricaded the two small openings which served as 
 windows, leaving a corner of the one at the front 
 open to serve as a port-hole. Then she looked to her 
 gun, and freshened the priming. 
 
 By this time the sound of horses' hoofs had drawn 
 near the cabin and halted. Sallie Gleason's face was 
 very pale at this moment, and her hands trembled, 
 yet she did not hesitate, gun in hand, to take her 
 place at the opening in the window. 
 
 She saw enough at her first glance to warrant all 
 the precaution she had taken. Naked, hideously 
 bedaubed in paint and evil-eyed, such a villainous- 
 looking lot of savages she had never before seen. 
 
64 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 There were seventeen of them drawn up in a squad a 
 few yards distant, and they were surveying alter- 
 nately the cabin and the growling dog. 
 
 The Indians were armed with bows and arrows and 
 lances, with but two guns in the crowd. Mrs. Glea- 
 son saw at once that they were Sioux. Standing far 
 enough back in the darkened cabin to prevent them 
 from seeing her, she looked through her port-hole 
 directly into the eyes of these dangerous visitors. 
 
 For a few moments they sat their ponies silently, 
 giving no hostile sign. Presently one of, them, with a 
 guttural word of command, turned his animal's head 
 and with a vicious cut of his quirt setoff at a gallop, 
 and the whole troop followed him. 
 
 Sallie Gleason breathed more freely as she watched 
 the galloping squad cross the creek and ride out of 
 sight beyond a point of bluff some half-mile below. 
 She thought of her husband, and felt certain he was 
 not in the direction they had taken. She opened the 
 door and windows and resumed her household occu- 
 pations, but kept a sharp watch in all directions. 
 
 Several hours passed with no incident to arouse her 
 fears afresh. At noon she made preparations for 
 dinner, expecting Bill soon to return. Then she took 
 a pail and started for the spring for water. 
 
 She reached the top of the gully through which the 
 little creek ran, and was about to descend to the spring 
 when she saw something near the mouth of the gulch 
 that gave her instant alarm. It was a single feather 
 dyed red, projecting above the ridge of a clay bank 
 that marked a turn of the creek's channel. 
 
 She had seen that feather three hours before and 
 remembered it. It slowly disappeared. She turned 
 
INDIAN TALES' OO 
 
 about and hurried back to the cabin, expecting every 
 moment to hear the Indian yell and feel an arrow 
 pierce her body. But nothing further occurred to 
 alarm her then and she reached the cabin in safety. 
 
 Once more she barred all entrances and prepared 
 to defend herself to the last. She understood now, 
 she thought, why the treacherous fellows had rid- 
 den away so unconcernedly. They had intended the 
 action for a blind. After riding out of sight they had 
 dismounted and having slunk back under shelter of the 
 river-bank had entered the bed of the creek where they 
 were now lying in wait for a chance to shoot down the 
 inmates of the cabin. 
 
 That the Indians had not killed her when they had 
 the opportunity was a source of thankful wonder. It 
 could not be, she believed, that they had not seen her, 
 but they must have thought themselves undiscovered. 
 Thus she speculated in fear and excitement. 
 
 Through an opening in the front window her eye 
 took in the broad expanse of the Mississippi beyond 
 the ambush of the savages. Suddenly there came into 
 view, not a mile distant, the well-known sail of the 
 bateau. 
 
 Her first feeling was one of delight ; but almost 
 instantly the true situation flashed upon her and she 
 realized the purpose of the ambush. A deadly fear 
 for her trapper friends seized upon the brave woman's 
 mind. 
 
 She saw it all now. The Indians had discovered 
 that sail away down the river, and knowing where the 
 boat would land they had, after their cunning and 
 treacherous fashion, stolen back to lie in ambush for 
 the unsuspecting boatmen. She had not been seen on 
 
66 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 her excursion to the spring because the Indians were 
 intent upon other victims. 
 
 She kept her eyes on the boat ;" it was coming 
 slowly on with a light breeze in its favor; the boys 
 seemed to be plying the oars lazily. 
 
 What could be done to warn them? It would be 
 certain death to her to go outside and make any move- 
 ment likely to attract their attention. Even if they 
 saw or heard her, they might well fancy her to be 
 merely greeting their return. 
 
 Then she thought of the "Wild Goose Bar," and a 
 plan of action came like an inspiration. The Wild 
 Goose Bar was a drift of sand which extended into 
 the river from a point several hundred yards above the 
 mouth of the creek. It connected with a small island, 
 or rather peninsula, about a hundred yards from shore. 
 The geese in their autumn flight often alighted upon it 
 at night in great numbers, and this had given this 
 sand-bar its name. ^ 
 
 From the lay of the ground back of the cabin-knoll, 
 Sallie knew that she Could reach a point very near to 
 the bar without being seen. If she might but safely 
 run the gauntlet of the sand stretch to the covert of 
 the willows upon the island, she would be able to warn 
 the coming boatmen. 
 
 There was no time to lose. By the time she could 
 reach the island the bateau would be close at hand. 
 She opened the back window and, gun in hand, 
 crawled through and ran down the side of the knoll 
 into a little " swale " which extended for some distance 
 parallel with the river's bank. Once on this low 
 ground she bent forward so as to keep her head out of 
 sight and hurried up to a point which she knew must 
 
INDIAN TALES. 67 
 
 be about opposite the sand-bar. Then boldly rising 
 upright she ran swiftly across the intervening ground 
 to the river-bank and slid down its steep side to the 
 foot of the bar. 
 
 The keen eyes of the Indians had seen her at last. 
 They guessed her purpose and set up a howl like the 
 cry of a pack of wolves. Looking aside in her flight 
 along the bar she saw them emerge, a yelling swarm, 
 from the creek-bed, and give swift chase up the bank 
 of the river. 
 
 They shot arrows at her as she ran, but the range at 
 first was too great, and the shafts fell in the water or 
 stuck lightly in the sand behind her. Oddly enough 
 she thought of the scores of wild geese that had been 
 fired upon from the bank and killed upon the sands 
 over which she was fleeing. 
 
 That hundred yards seemed a long distance. The 
 Indians gained swiftly upon her and before she could 
 reach the island their arrows began to whiz spitefully 
 past. She would certainly have lost her life had not 
 the boatmen, who were rapidly drawing near, opened 
 fire at this critical moment. Their long-range rifles 
 scattered the Indians and sent them instantly flying. 
 
 Sallie had just breath left to note that there were 
 more than two men in the bateau, and then she fell 
 exhausted and fainting upon the wet sand at the edge 
 of the island. 
 
 When she became conscious, Briggs and Ellery were 
 kneeling by her, one on either side, fanning her with 
 their hats. Her clothing and hair were drenched with 
 the water they had thrown in her face to revive her. 
 
 -Looking up, Sallie saw two tall strangers leaning on 
 their guns and looking upon her with sympathy and 
 
INMAN TALES. 
 
 interest. They now came forward and each in his 
 rough way — for they, too, were frontiersmen — uttered 
 expressions of grateful admiration, mingled with not a 
 little wonder, at the feat she had performed. 
 
 "When G leason returned and the story was repeated 
 to him, he said, simply, but with wet eyes : " Ye're a 
 brave woman, Sallie, but I'll never leave ye alone agin 3 
 so long's thar's danger from Injuns." 
 
 That night John Ellery set out for Prairie du Chien 
 in a canoe, and a few days later a squad of cavalry 
 scoured the region in search of the Sioux. They did 
 not find the Indians,' who no doubt knew of their pres- 
 ence and mission, for the settlers at Little Pinnicon 
 saw no more hostile bands. 
 
 The strangers who had come with Briggs and 
 Ellery were men with families, true pioneers in search 
 of fresh lands. They were so well pleased with the 
 Pinnicon Valley that they marked claims adjoining 
 the others, and each brought a wife and children into 
 the " Little Pinnicon settlement." 
 
vm. 
 
 IN THl SIOUX-COUNTRY IN IS. 
 
 (From an Old Diary.) 
 
 On the night of the 13th of July, 1875, the writer 
 left the neighborhood of Ft. Laramie, W. T., in com- 
 pany with thirty-four others, enroute for the Black Hills 
 of Dakota. 
 
 We left the region of the Fort " between two days, "as 
 they say out West of those who, for any cause, get out of 
 a neighborhood by stealth. For nearly two weeks we 
 had been in camp on the bank of the Laramie river, 
 under strict surveillance of a sergeant's guard, when, 
 for some reason, the patrol failed to put in an appear- 
 ance on the night mentioned, and at midnight we 
 struck camp, hitched to our wagons, and " rolled " up 
 the Platte. 
 
 We traveled hard until nine o'clock the next morn- 
 ing, when we drew into a sheltered cotton-wood grove 
 and hid for the day. Just before noon a sergeant's 
 squad of fifteen cavalry-men rode by at a gallop on the 
 look-out for us, at least ostensibly so, for there was 
 little doubt in our minds that they saw our wagon- 
 tracks leading away from the freight trail, and pur- 
 posely shut their eyes to them 
 
 Instructions from Washington made it necessary for 
 the commandant at the post to halt all northern bound 
 out-fits at the Platte, allowing none to cross over until 
 the Government's commissioners should gain possession 
 of the Black-Hills portion of the Sioux Keserve by 
 
 69 
 
70 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 treaty with all the tribes concerned ; but when soldiers 
 were sent out after trespassers who had escaped across 
 the frontier of the reservation, they were usually not 
 very anxious to bring them in. 
 
 The next day we swam our stock across the Platte, 
 which was too deep at that season to ford — and rafted 
 our wagons and effects, which consisted of .mining- 
 tools and " grub," mostly — on a raft made of five dry 
 cotton- wood logs. It took the whole of day-light to 
 get the eight wagons and their loads across, and we 
 camped that night upon the extreme edge of the Indian 
 lands. 
 
 In the morning our motley crowd gathered in front 
 of one of the wagons, and we organized to pass through 
 the country in military fashion. A French Canadian, 
 an old plainsman, named Michaud, who talked plain 
 English, was chosen captain, and an uncle of the writer, 
 who was a veteran of the Rebellion, selected as second 
 in command. There were several old miners from Col- 
 orado and California, some citizens of Cheyenne, three 
 buffalo hunters, a Spaniard from the City of Mexico, a 
 New Mexican "Greaser," and "pilgrims" from the 
 States, among whom the writer was youngest. 
 
 That day we moved over the rough, barren hills 
 which lay between the Platte and Raw-hide Butte, past 
 "Bridger's Hole," a famous rendezvous of the old-time 
 trappers, which Michaud pointed out to us. As we 
 moved forward we presented quite a military appear- 
 ance; marching on either side of the wagons, with 
 shouldered guns, were the members of our party not 
 employed in driving or as scouts. Two horsemen rode 
 several yards in advance upon the only saddle-animals 
 
INDIAN TALES. • 71 
 
 we had ; two on foot also kept pace with the wagons at 
 some distance on either hand. 
 
 At night a guard was stationed on four sides of the 
 camp, outside the circle in which our animals were 
 picketed, for we were upon exceedingly dangerous 
 ground." Both Sitting Bull's and Spotted Tail's young 
 men had cut loose from the agencies, as we had learned 
 at the fort, and we were likely at any moment to be 
 " jumped " by a strong party of them. 
 
 On the third day out from the river, just as our small 
 train had entered a valley between two stretches of 
 high, rough hills near the head of White River, the 
 scout upon our left, some two or three hundred yards 
 away, came running down the hill-side at the top of his 
 speed, shouting, " Injuns \ Injuns ! Corral the wagons ! 
 Corral the wagons ! " 
 
 There was a general hustling toward the wagons of 
 the other out-riders and scouts at the same moment, 
 and in almost less time than it takes to tell it our 
 wagons were drawn up into a circle — each team shel- 
 tered by the wagon ahead of it— and our little force, 
 bristling with arms, gathered in an excited crowd 
 within the corral thus made. 
 
 No Indians were in sight as yet -and the scout who 
 had given the alarm was telling that he had caught 
 sight of " a hull raft uv' em dodgin' 'mong the rocks up 
 yander," when suddenly, above the tops of some of those 
 same rocks were seen a number of signal flags and hats 
 in motion. This was plainly an indication of str desire 
 to hold communication with us. 
 
 Our "Greaser" now came forward, and made it 
 known to Captain Michaud that he could speak the 
 Sioux tongue, as he had lived for several years among 
 
72 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 the Cheyenne Sioux, and offered to go up to the buttes 
 and talk with the Indians. He was, of course, told to 
 go, and a few minutes later, as he mounted the steep 
 bluffs, we saw a number of nimble fellows scramble 
 down from a ledge of rock and seat themselves in a 
 circle about " John, " as we called the New Mexican. 
 
 They talked busily for some time, the Indians gestur- 
 ing in an animated fashion, then all arose and passed 
 out of sight behind the point of rocks which the 
 Indians had descended. 
 
 We waited impatiently for some time, when about 
 twenty horsemen came in sight and rode down toward 
 us, the " Greaser " with them* They came within a 
 hundred yards or so, then halted, and John rode down 
 to us on one of their ponies. 
 
 In answer to anxious inquiries, he said that there 
 were at least one hundred and fifty of Sitting Bull's 
 and Spotted Tail's young bucks over on the other side 
 of the buttes, and that they wanted (and I fancy now 
 there was " an uncommon want in their tone ") to know 
 what we were doing upon Indian lands. The head 
 chief, John said, would like to come down and hold a 
 talk with the " head man " of our party. 
 
 Captain Michaud sent John back to tell them that 
 the party who had come with him could advance and 
 he would talk with them, but that no others must come 
 any nearer, or we should fire upon them. 
 
 It was a wild-looking and gaudily bedecked lot of 
 fellows who rode down and dismounted in front of us. 
 They were togged out in bright-colored calicoes and 
 beaded buck-skin ; their faces were hideously daubed 
 in paints — yellow, green, black and vermilion. 
 
 They wore belts of cartridges around their waists 
 
INDIAN TALES. 73 
 
 and over their shoulders, and were armed with Win- 
 chesters and needle guns ; altogether I think they were 
 the fanciest lot of redskins, and the most formidable 
 in appearance, that I have ever seen. They flung 
 themselves off their ponies, dropping the reins in front 
 of each animal, and then seated themselves in a semi- 
 circle ajfew yards in front of our corral. "We noted, 
 uneasily enough, that there were a swarm of others up 
 among the hills looking on with interest. 
 
 Those immediately before us, however, indicated 
 their peaceful intentions by producing and filling a 
 long peace-pipe, and after each buck had taken a 
 whiff and blown it out through his nose, this pipe was 
 proffered to our captain by the chief. But Michaud, 
 who had advanced with the interpreter and stood con- 
 fronting them, stepped back, dignifiedly folded his 
 arms, and told John to say to the chief of the Sioux 
 that he considered himself a much greater man than 
 any before him and the pipe should have been pre- 
 sented to him before any of them had touched lip to it. 
 
 I have never seen so hideous an expression as came 
 over the face of the chief as the interpreter repeated 
 Michaud's words in Sioux. He threw the pipe upon 
 the ground and, amid the grunts and black looks of his 
 warriors, began a haranguing, in which, according to 
 John's interpretation, he charged us with coming upon 
 the Indian lands to steal them away from their right- 
 ful owners ; they ( the Indians ) knew where we were 
 going, he said, but we could never get there, as the 
 oountry in front of us was so rough and broken that 
 no wagons could pass through it, and he illustrated 
 this by waving his hands up and down to show the 
 hilly nature of the region, and swayed his body side- 
 
74 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 wise to indicate the tipping over of our wagons. He 
 then further declared that the Indians would not let 
 us go among the mountains to seek the yellow dirt, 
 but would attack us and no doubt kill us all if we 
 attempted it. 
 
 This was the substance of John's interpretation, 
 though the harangue was drawn out at much greater 
 length, and if we could judge by the grunts of 
 approval with which the surrounding braves greeted 
 almost every sentence, the speech must have been a 
 very good specimen of Indian oratory. 
 
 Michaud's reply was brief and characteristic of all 
 we had known or afterward learned of the man. 
 
 " Tell them," said he to John, " to jump their hosses 
 an' git, an' to go mighty quick, too ! " 
 
 There was a chorus of angry " Huh's " as the 
 Indians scrambled to their feet and sprang upon their 
 ponies again. They scurried away, though, evidently 
 thinking that after such threats as their chief had 
 made had failed to intimidate us, we must be deter- 
 mined customers. In three minutes there was not a 
 Sioux in sight. 
 
 They all disappeared behind the buttes in a twink- 
 ling, and then we held a council of war in which it 
 was admitted by the older frontiersmen that our expe- 
 dition was one of extreme danger, and that our 
 chances of getting through with whole skins were, to 
 say the least, not more than even. Some of the party 
 were badly frightened and wanted the whole outfit to 
 set out at once upon the return. Michaud, however, 
 quickly put an end to that project by declaring that a 
 retreat would bring the whole swarm upon our heels at 
 once. We had faced just this danger, he said, from 
 
INDIAN TALES. 75 
 
 the moment we had crossed the Platte river and ought 
 to have expected to meet Indians, and it would look 
 extremely silly in us to run at first sight of them. 
 The only thing to do was to move right on, using the 
 same precautions as before. 
 
 The timid ones were silenced and we moved on. 
 That night we camped upon a high bench of land, and 
 when it came on dark we discovered signal fires burn- 
 ing upon three butter in as many directions. Appear- 
 ances were so alarming that we dug rifle-pits around 
 inside our wagon-corral. I remember that my turn to 
 go on guard, with three others, came that night from 
 nine o'clock till twelve. I probably experienced as 
 many sensations of awful lonesomeness and fear as 
 any young fellow of nineteen, new to the situation, 
 would be capable of. The memory of those three 
 hours is yet vivid. 
 
 Morning came, however, with no further sign of Indi- 
 ans, though the signal fires were visible during most 
 of the night. We traveled again until noon over a rough 
 country, meeting with no incident of note. But during 
 the noon camp, John, our Greaser, left us and went 
 out among some hills a half-mile distant, and did not 
 return until we were hitching up for a start. When 
 asked if had seen anything of the Indians he shook his 
 head, and when pressed as to whether he thought they 
 were following us, he said, " Mebbe so, mebbe not." It 
 was noticed by those nearest him that he was particu- 
 larly silent and taciturn all that afternoon, though 
 they paid no great heed to his mood. But at night 
 when he drove his team out fully three hundred yards 
 from the usual corral, and camped by himself, our sus- 
 picions were fully aroused. 
 
76 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 He had taken no part in our organization at Ft. Lar- 
 amie, and his name was not on the role for guard 
 relief, and as he had never been taken into our councils, 
 Michaud did not interfere with his movements. Dur- 
 ing the evening, however, a number^bi the men went 
 out to see him and find out, if possible, his motive in 
 camping off by himself. They found one of his horses 
 tied to the wagon ; John had taken the other and 
 gone. They waited an hour or more; he did not 
 return and they came back to camp and reported, and 
 for the next hour our party gave themselves to surmis- 
 ings and speculations. Some declared the Greaser was 
 " in cahoots " with the Sioux, while others only feared 
 that might be the case, and were willing to admit that 
 John might possibly be on the lookout for our inter- 
 ests, as it was plainly clear that he had nothing to fear 
 on his own account. 
 
 Captain Michaud was ready to give the New Mexican 
 the benefit of a doubt, as was also our lieutenant, and 
 it was agreed that an extra guard should be stationed 
 near enough John's wagon to report the hour of his 
 coming in and any developments which might follow. 
 
 Morning came, and still the Greaser's horse and 
 wagon stood out there on the prairie with no sign of 
 their owner. The guard picketed out the animal 
 where it could graze, and we moved on after breakfast, 
 leaving both wagon and horse. 
 
 Night, or rather evening, found us upon the edge of 
 a high plateau overlooking the Cheyenne valley, with 
 our goal, the Black Hills of Dakota, plainly in view, 
 and a stretch of rough " breaks " dropping away in front 
 of us. We were just about entering at the head of a tor- 
 tuous canon which had been explored and found passa- 
 
INDIAN TALES. 77 
 
 ble by an advance scout. We had to get down into it 
 and camp, or go without water for our stock for that 
 night, but as the foremost teams were driving down a 
 steep pitch which lead into the gulch, a shout was 
 raised behind which brought the whole outfit to a halt. 
 i€ Hold upj Hold up in front ! Th' Greaser's a-comin' 
 on hossback, comin' like th' wind ! Wait'n see what's 
 up ! " r 
 
 Those of us on the rise looked behind, and sure 
 enough there came John, whom we knew by his white 
 horse, riding at the top of his animal's speed, and 
 swinging his old sombrero violently back and forth. 
 He pulled up, however, when he saw that we had 
 halted and were waiting, and came in among us at a 
 trot. Shouts greeted him from all sides. 
 
 "What's th' matter, John? Where's yer other 
 boss 'n' wagon ? " 
 
 " Eenjun gitta i vs a hoss an 5 wagn," he replied, as he 
 dismounted and rubbed his animal's steaming neck and 
 shoulders. " Eenjun gitta me too, boota he no keep ; 
 plenty Eenjun een el aroyo, de canyon ! " and he swept 
 one hand toward the yawning gulch in front of us. 
 
 Incredulous and suspicious looks were exchanged 
 upon this announcement which did not, to most of us 
 at least, seem at all likely, as our scout had just 
 returned from the canyon and had reported the coast 
 clear. We looked down over the barren breaks and 
 there was no sign of life of any kind save a scanty 
 growth of buffalo grass and scattering pine shrub. But 
 Michaud came forward and asked John how he knew 
 the Indians were in the canyon. 
 
 His reply in broken English was very brief. He had 
 gone out among the Sioux last night he said, and they 
 
78 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 had proposed to him. to join them in an attack upon 
 the whites when their wagons should attempt to pass 
 through the broken hills of the Cheyenne. They had 
 detailed their plan, and when they found he would not 
 join them, had made him a temporary prisoner, and 
 had placed an Indian as guard over him who was to 
 release him at sundown; he escaped during the after- 
 noon, he would not say how, and had ridden hard to 
 overtake us. He had made enemies of his friends, he 
 said, and the Indians would capture his wagon and 
 other horse and kill himself if they ever got a chance. 
 
 All the time he was talking, our captain looked him 
 steadily and sharply in the eyes, but John bore the 
 scrutiny with composure, adding to his information 
 that in order for our party to get safely through the 
 breaks it would be necessary to drive further down the 
 "llano," where he knew of a long ridge which we 
 could descend with the wagons without danger of sur- 
 prises, as there were no " aroyos " near enough for the 
 Indians to fire from. 
 
 Satisfied of the truth of John's account, Michaud 
 ordered back the wagons which stood with locked 
 wheels upon the side-hill below. As the teamsters 
 circled about and drove up again toward the top, there 
 broke out away down among the gulches a long-drawn 
 chorus of shrill yells which set everybody in the outfit 
 agape and staring! 
 
 The sounds died away in a wail while we were gaping 
 for a sight of the screeching red-skins, for such we 
 could not doubt they were who made them. But that 
 was all ; not an Indian could we see nor did we hear 
 any sound mora than this one outbreak of rage and 
 disappointment, attributable, undoubtedly, to their di»» 
 
INDIAN TALES. 
 
 79 
 
 covery of John's appearance among us, and the knowl- 
 edge that we were now fully on our guard against any 
 attack they could make upon us. 
 
 " Queer varmints them Injuns ! " said Michaud, at 
 length. " Boys, this Greaser's saved our bacon sure j 
 we'll follow where he leads now." 
 
 I remember that a grim smile, or rather grin, came 
 over the dark, wrinkled features of the New Mexican 
 at this and his small shrewd eyes twinkled with satis- 
 faction. "We did follow him after that until three days 
 later we arrived safely at Camp Custer on French 
 creek, whither a few venturesome miners had preceded 
 us. Here we managed to raise a sum of money for 
 John, which paid him in part, at least, for the loss of 
 his wagon and horse so freely sacrificed to save our 
 lives. 
 
 Eleven days later, Colonel Benteen, with a detach- 
 ment of United States cavalry, captured the whole lot 
 of us and escorted us across the Missouri, where we 
 were very rightly told to remain until the Government 
 should acquire a clear title to the lands we had 
 trespassed upon. 
 
IX. 
 
 SEQUAPAH. 
 
 The following story of early adventure in one part 
 of the Northwest is told by old Mr. Morgan Apleigh, 
 an old farmer, who was one of the first settlers of the 
 lower Des Moines Yalley. He was a hoy when he 
 moved to Iowa, in 1836. During the next twenty 
 years he made many hunting and trapping excursions 
 to the North and West, in search of fur and peltry, 
 and sometimes went either alone or with companions 
 four or five hundred miles into the great wilderness 
 which stretched away on every side but one, and 
 which was tenanted only by Indians and animals. 
 
 Many were the adventures of this hardy pioneer. 
 Generally he had for companions several of the young 
 men belonging to the frontier settlement in which he 
 lived, and also an Indian of the Iowa tribe, who not 
 only served as guide, but also as protector against dan- 
 ger of attack from many of the Western tribes, whose 
 language he understood, and with whom he was 
 acquainted. 
 
 It was with a party of nine, including Sequapah, 
 the Indian, that Apleigh met with a perilous adventure 
 early in the 40's, and which he relates in language 
 much as follows : 
 
 " It was 'bout forty-five years ago, I believe. We'd 
 had a dry season ; didn't raise any crops to 'mount to 
 anything, an* 'bout the first of September I told the 
 * *<1 folks I couldn't stay at home any longer ; I'd got 
 
 80 
 
INDIAN TALES. 81 
 
 to get out o' that clearin', V be doing something agin. 
 
 " So I went across the river 'bout two mile, where 
 the Clancy boys lived, Art and Logan, too see 'em 
 'bout goin' out west of the Missouri after beaver an' 
 buffalo hides. 'Twas after dark when I got to their 
 cabin, 'n' I found 'em both down on their knees mouldin' 
 bullets ; they had the floor covered with 'em, 'n' I 
 remember I like to have broke my neck treadin' on 
 'em. 
 
 " Well, after the boys had had a good laugh at me, 
 Art up an' toF me that they had 'lowed to come over 
 an' see me in the mornin' 'bout goin' with 'em on a 
 hunt they'd been a-plannin' at a rasin' they'd been 
 invited to over on Plum creek. They'd got five of the 
 men over there to agree to go, perviden' Sequapah, an 
 Iowa Injun that lived 'bout twenty miles 'bove us, 
 would go along. 
 
 " Sequapah had ben off with me, an' with Art an' 
 Logan Clancy, on many a huntin' an trappin' trip. 
 He'd ben 'mong the Sioux a good deal, an' was 
 'quainted with a good many of their head chiefs, 'n' 
 could palaver as well in Sioux or Omaha as he could 
 in his own Iowa tribe. 
 
 " Of course I fell in with 'em, as that was jest what 
 I wanted to see 'em about. So the next day Logan 
 went after Sequapah, an' brought him down, comin' 
 past Plum Creek, so as to let the men there know the 
 Injun was ready to start. 
 
 "Well, the long an' short of it was that in three 
 days we started, nine of us, with three teams an* 
 wagons, an' five ridin' horses besides. We had cloth 
 covers for our wagons. The canvas Art an' Logan 
 Clancy had got at St. Louis, together with some 
 
82 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 buffalo guns for me an' themselves. Besides our ordi- 
 nary huntin 5 rifles, we had five buffalo guns in the 
 crowd. These guns were sjiort, heavy rifles, for close 
 shootin' ; barrels 'bout eighteen inches long, an' shot 
 a slug — twelve to the pound — 'most as big as a man's 
 thumb. 
 
 " We steered for the Platte Biver, an' rafted the 
 Missouri not far 'bove where the city o' Council Bluffs 
 now stands. The Platte Yalley was the best huntin' 
 and trappin' ground in the hull Northwest in them 
 days. Buffalo, elk, deer, antelope, beaver, every 
 kind o' game except grizzlies, was~ thick as grass- 
 hoppers. 
 
 " There was one drawback to huntin' then, though, 
 that usually kept white men out o' the country. It* 
 was the huntin'-ground of both the Lower Sioux an' 
 the Pawnees, an' 'twas generally bad business when a 
 white man met up with a band of either of 'em. 
 
 " I went out there many a time, though, between 
 1840 an' 1861, but' Sequapah was generally with me, 
 an' he was so well 'quainted with the Sioux, that I 
 went boldly 'mong 'em with him, an' they never 
 offered me harm. 
 
 " But with the Pawnees 'twas different. Sequapah 
 didn't know any of 'em; couldn't understand their 
 lingo, as it's altogether different from the Sioux an* 
 Io was, who have many words alike, an' can generally 
 manage to understand each other. 
 
 " So we usually made out to do our huntin' an' 
 trappin' in them parts as close to the headquarters of a 
 Sioux band o* hunters as we could make it pay; an' they 
 bein' at war always with the Pawnees, an' 'most always 
 the strongest, we managed to dodge the Loups, 
 
INDIAN TALES. 83 
 
 except on three or four trips, when we did run some 
 pretty narrow chances with these red-hot rascals. 
 
 "An' the trip that I'm talkin' 'bout was one of 'em. 
 
 " 'Bout fifty miles from the Missouri we struck a 
 strong band of Tanktonais Sioux, some three hundred 
 of 'em, camped on the bank of the Platte. Sequapah 
 knew the head chief an' a lot more of 'em, an' after we'd 
 spent a day restin', tradin' an' powwovriri' 'mong 'em, 
 we moved on up twenty-five or thirty miles, an' pitched 
 our camp near the mouth of Shell Creek. 
 
 "We had to camp in a rather exposed place on 
 account o' gittin' water, but we picked the best ground 
 we could find, on a slopin' ridge that ran down to the 
 creek-bed. It was exposed enough, though, there bein' 
 a bushy gulley on either side, an' each o' the gulches 
 within a hundred yards, an' we had plenty of reason to 
 wish ourselves a thousan' miles away from it inside 
 o' three days. 
 
 " It ain't exaggeratin' butleetle to say that the country 
 was black with buffalo, an' the creek a-swarmin' with 
 beaver, an' we 'lowed to have the biggest kind of a 
 harvest in robes an' pelts. 
 
 " The second day out we brought in twenty-eight of 
 as fine buffalo pelts as ever I laid eyes on; but that very 
 night two o' the Plum Creek boys, Hank Bean an' Dave 
 Torsey, come in with their ponies a lather of sweat, an' 
 their hats gone, fresh from a hard run, to get out o' 
 the way of a swarm o' Injuns that had chased 'em 
 almost into camp, they bavin' dodged 'em in one of the 
 gulches above. They said they believed there was 
 more than a hundred of 'em, an' it was proved pretty 
 soon that they hadn't put the figger too high. 
 
 " Well, we set to work at once to make ourselves 
 
g4 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 safe from their arrers, if they should pitch into us, as 
 Hank an' Dave 'lowed they would, as soon as they 
 could get us located, an' find out our numbers. 
 
 " We took the three wagons an' formed a squar' of 'em 
 with an open side to'rds the creek, as there wa'n't 
 much danger o' them comin' up the slope from that 
 direction. Then we took our fresh buffalo hides, an' 
 nailed em' four, or five deep to the tops of the wagon 
 boxes, so that their lower edges laid on the ground, an' 
 that wall o' hides is just exactly what saved us from a 
 o-eneral massacre. 
 
 "We didn't look for an attack, though, before mornin', 
 if it came at all. Sequapah gave it as his opinion the 
 boys had been run in by a fresh band of Sioux, an' that 
 he could pacify 'em once he got amongst 'em. He said 
 he didn't b'lieve Pawnees, unless the whole tribe was 
 together, 'd dare to come in so close to the big Sioux 
 village below. We picketed our , horses on the slope, 
 an' leavin' Art Clancy an' a Plum Creek fellow named 
 Rowley on guard, the rest of us rolled in, an' went to 
 sleep. 
 
 " I don't know how long we'd slept, but not long, 
 when we was brought standin' by sech a storm of bid- 
 jus yells as never had come to my ears before. It come 
 from both sides, c Yi! yi-hi! YeouooghP 
 
 " We all began to grab for our guns the instant our 
 wits come to us ; an' just about then Art Clancy an' 
 Rowley shot inside our wagon fort. 
 
 " ' Ravines are full of Injuns on both sides, boys,' 
 said Art, ' but they haint shot an arrer yet ! They've 
 come up the bottom o' the gulches tumble sly, fer that 
 veil's the first I've heard of 'em.' 
 
 " Sequapah had been asleep with the rest of us inside, 
 
13TDXAN TALES. «S?> 
 
 and now Tie e called, on. him to explain the queer perform- 
 ance, for we'd expected to have arrers an' bullets come 
 thick as hail after seen a yell, an' not a bullet nor a 
 arrer was shot at us, nor had the Injuns made another 
 sound, 'ceptin' that one gen'ral shriek. 
 
 " ' Huh ! um Sioux, Oglallas, me guess,' said Sequa- 
 pah. 'Um no hollar like um Yanktonais, no like um 
 Wapekuta, no like um Cheyenne, me heap guess um 
 Oglalla. Um a heap fool, holla yi hi; fink when he no 
 shoot evly body he lun look then he heap shoot um, 
 Huh! ' an' he spit hard on the ground to express his 
 disgust. 'Huh! me make a heap talk now; then he 
 light off go away me guess.' 
 
 " On sayin' that, he climbed up on one of the wagons, 
 — we'd taken off the sheets, — laid his gun across the 
 top of the box, an' stood up bold as a lion. 
 
 " He yelled out something in the Sioux language, then 
 called over two or three names that I knew : 'Hpton 
 Washtado,' meanin' ' He with a very good face,' an' 
 'Petit Corbeauf ' Little Crow ' — both Sioux chiefs, an' 
 then, without waitin' for 'em to reply, began fLourishin' 
 his arms and makin' a speech. 
 
 "He was a reg'lar Injun 'bout likin' to make a 
 spread. I've often thought since that I never saw nor 
 heard anythin' so perfectly redie'lus as his performance 
 that night. 
 
 " I can see him yet, every time I shut my eyes, as he 
 stood up there atween the wagon-bows a-speechifyin' 
 an' layin 5 it off with both hands, talkin' first at one 
 ravine an' then turnin' to the other. Talk about an 
 Injun's bein' dignified, why, Sequapah made more noise 
 than anj r Fourth o' July orator I ever heard ! 
 
@B INDIAN TALES. 
 
 a Desprit as the sityeation might turn out for us, we 
 jess had to laugh. 
 
 " There was a moon that didn't go down till after 
 midnight an' it was light enough to see off quite a 
 distance. While Sequapah was talkin' we was all 
 peekin' over the tops of the wagons tor'ds the ravines, 
 some on one side an' some on the other, an' putty soon 
 Injun heads began to pop up in both directions, seemin' 
 to shoot up out o 3 the grass at the edge o' the slopes. 
 
 "Pretty soon there was a whole string of 'em 
 standin' up on both sides, lookin' like a picket fence in 
 a mirage, a listenin' with all their ears to Sequapah's 
 oration. The nearest ones must 'a' been 'bout eighty 
 steps away. It wasn't light enough to see 'em dis- 
 tinctly, but there couldn't 'a' been less than half a 
 hundred on each side. 
 
 " Sequapah kept on with his speech, jabberin' away 
 in Sioux for nigh ten minutes I should guess. I could 
 understand a few words an' heard him tell 'em : i Oglalla 
 wash-tah-do pe-o-peh, Ko-sah-wahuf and Pawnees ha 
 wai-kahu ! sich-e wa-nich-ee P which meant that he was 
 braggin' up the Oglalla Sioux and callin' the Pawnees 
 miserable fellows, no good for any purpose, an' as the 
 two tribes was always at war with each other he ex- 
 pected to make frien's with 'em, takin' it for granted) 
 o' course, that they were Oglallas. 
 
 " "Well, he wound up finally an' waited for an answer. 
 One of 'em then, on the right-hand side, who seemed a 
 foot taller than any o' the rest, came f orard a few 
 steps an' begun talkin' back in a deep voice that sounded 
 harsh as a grater. 
 
 " Sequapah listened a few seconds an' then, '•Huh ! ' 
 he grunted ; <no understand wm Pawnee ! ' an', mad as 
 
INDIAN TALES. 87 
 
 a hornet to think he'd wasted all his elokence, he 
 grabbed up his gun an' blazed away at 'em, then, quick 
 almost as lightning he turned, give a jump, an* shot 
 down amongst us like a metiur. 
 
 " Then there was music ! Such screechin' and howlin' 
 I hope I may never hear agin; an' the bullets an' 
 arrers came peltin' agin' the wagons an' the buffalo- 
 hides like a dozen boys was thro win' han'fuls o' gravel- 
 stones at 'em; they'd click on the iron, chug into the 
 wood and thump the skins, an' ev'ry time there'd come 
 a shower of 'em there'd rise up a horrible babel o' 
 screeches. 
 
 " We ducked, o' course, the minute Sequapah shot at 
 'em, an' then we lay close, reservin' our fire for a charge, 
 if they should git bold enough to make one. Four 
 thicknesses o' buffalo-hides hangin' loose was plenty 
 of protection agin any weapon the Injuns had in them 
 days, but there'd been several cracks left at the hubs 
 of the wagon- wheels an' ev'ry few minutes an arrer or 
 a bullet or a shot would whistle through one of 'em. 
 They was accidental shots, o* course, fired at the 
 wagons, but 'fore we got the cracks located so as to 
 keep out o' range of 'em Jim Rowley 'd got a buck- 
 shot in his wrist an' Logan Clancy'd had a piece o' 
 scalp raised across the back of his head by an arrer. 
 
 " We lay huggin' the ground for two hours or more 
 with a storm of yells an' shots on each side, an' no- 
 body fired at an Injun but Art Clancy an' Sequapah ; 
 they took turns in loadin' their big buffalo guns nigh 
 to the muzzle an' firin' 'em over the tops of the wagons, 
 so to let 'em know that we had big guns amongst us 
 and plenty of ammunition. This prob'ly discouraged 
 
88 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 'em from makin' a charge, an' after a. while the firm' 
 slacked up an' everything got quiet. 
 
 " But they hadn't give up, we soon found, for some 
 of us kept watch through cracks after thefirin' stopped, 
 an' 'twasn't long till an Injun was seen sneakin' out 
 tor'ds the horses. Two or three shots sent him scut- 
 tlin' back into the gulch agin. 
 
 " Then after a bit, we discovered that a number of 
 'em had climed into the tree-tops across one of the 
 ravines an' was tryin' to shoot their arrers over onto 
 us. They couldn't get up high 'nough, though, an' 
 failed to get their arrers inside our corral. We sent 
 some bullets over after 'em an' they give that up. 
 
 " Everything was quiet until morning after that, 
 'ceptin' now an' then a few whoops, and when day- 
 light came, and when it got light enough to see, we 
 made a sudden discovery inside our little garrison. 
 
 " Sequapah was gone ! 
 
 " He wasn't inside the corral, an' no one had seen 
 him go out. It had been quite dark for two hours 
 back, an* we knew at once that he'd slipped out an' 
 crawled off down the slope ^ an' that he'd gone in 
 hopes of gitten' away an' bringin' the Sioux to our 
 rescue, but as we'd heard some fierce yells down 
 tor'ds the mouth o' the ravines not long before we 
 were afraid he hadn't made it. 
 
 " That was a terrible day for us ; the Pawnees had 
 settled down to a reg'lar siege. We could see a few 
 of their streaks o' smoke comin' out the ravines where 
 there were fires and where, prob'ly, some of 'em were 
 eookin' their breakfasts. But there was enough of 'em 
 on the watch, an' we couldn't expose so much as a 
 
INDIAN TALES. 89 
 
 finger without havin' a shower o' bullets, shot an' 
 arrers sent at it. 
 
 " Art Clancy an' I managed to build a fire an' roast 
 some steak, which we handed 'round to the boys. 
 Logan had his head bandaged and Rowley had his 
 wrist wrapped in some cloths they tore from the linin' 
 of Jim's coat. 
 
 " The horses had been picketed close in, an' all but 
 three x>f 'em was there by their stakes whinnyin' for 
 water. Three o' the farthest ones had either been cut 
 loose durin' the darkest part o' the night or they'd got 
 scared at the firin' an' broke away. 
 
 "Wall, the day wore on, an' that afternoon another 
 o' the Plum Creek boys got hit, a bullet glancin' off one 
 o' the wagon-tires an' buryin' itself in the top o' his left 
 shoulder. It was a severe wound an' used him up. 
 "We done the best we could dressin' it and made him 
 a comfortable bed to lay on. 
 
 " The afternoon passed an' still no sign of frien's. 
 Night came on, an' wore away. How those poor 
 horses whinnied for water ! two more of 'em broke 
 away in the night. 
 
 " Daylight came agin an' found us 'bout as despairin' 
 a set of men as ever was besieged. We'd have made a 
 break to get out an' cut our way through in the dark- 
 ness that night, if 't hadn't been for the wounded ones 
 
 we couldn't leave 'em nor git away with 'em. 
 
 " It was lucky we didn't try, for just about sunrise 
 down came the Sioux, swarmin' over the hill an* down 
 the ravines like a fresh-stirred nest o* hornets. They 
 came streakin* down, lyin' low on their horses an' 
 yellin' like demons, an' they cleared them gulches o' 
 Pawnees 'bout as quick as I can tell it. 
 
90 
 
 INDIAN TALKS. 
 
 " Sequapah was with 'em, an' he came ridin' straight 
 to us an' seemed as tickled as we ourselves that he'd 
 brought the Sioux in time. 
 
 " The Yanktons followed up the Pawnees an' fit 
 with 'em nearly all day ; they killed a good many of 
 'em, too, and got back three o' our horses. 
 
 m 
 
 ■" The next day we hurried back an' camped at their 
 village. Here the boys nursed their wounds -an' the 
 rest of us hunted an' trapped. There wasn't many of 
 'em that cared to git far away from thp Yankton 
 village agin, an' as we had to share our ketch with the 
 Sioux, we didn't go home as well loaded as we had 
 expected. 
 
INDIAN TALES. 
 
 91 
 
 " There was enough of peltries, though, so that when 
 we came to carry 'em.. down to St. Louis they brought 
 enough to pay well for our time, if not for the danger 
 we'd undergone." 
 
X. 
 
 OUTJUGGLED. 
 
 " Now turn your tongue loose, Mac and tell us a 
 good story; some wild yarn. We don't want any fancy 
 stuff, but a real adventure, something exciting, out of 
 your own knock-about experiences on the frontier." 
 
 It was during our hunting trip up Red River into 
 Texas and the " nation's " territory. We had camped 
 that night in the shelter of the bluff s 3 and had a roar- 
 ing camp-fire burning ; for a blustering " norther " had 
 come down on us. Mac had figured as a traveling 
 magician. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," Mac responded at length, and 
 in compliance with our urgent, hilarious demand on 
 him, " I will tell you a little thing that happened to 
 me once on a time, and not so very long ago, either. 
 It was last fall, in fact, and came off at one of the 
 Comanche villages. 
 
 " About the middle of November, I was trailing my 
 cart and show truck over the " Sill Route" once more, 
 and I camped for the night at the Comanche town, as I'd 
 done a dozen times before that. I knew the bucks, 
 every one of them, or thought I did, and I felt no fear 
 at going among 'em alone, though before I'd always 
 carried a driver. 
 
 "Well, I hadn't got my supper cooked before a lot 
 of young braves came down to my wagon and engaged 
 me for a show that evening in their new school-house ! 
 Well, they've got one, a big log house, with a board 
 
 93 
 
 X 
 
INDIAN TALES. *» 
 
 floor and seats. It had just been, built, and they'd got 
 an edicated half-breed girl to teach. 
 
 " I told the young chaps that if they'd help me rig a 
 little staging and put up my curtains and raise me five 
 dollars, I'd give 'em a first -class show, with all the 
 latest performances in legerdemain. 
 
 " Well, these young bucks that I was speaking of 
 come down in 'bout an hour with half the town, young 
 and old^ big and little, at their heels, and away we 
 went, cart, horse and all, over to their school-house, 
 which was built in the woods 'bout forty rods from the 
 village. In a very short space of time, we had a nar- 
 row staging rigged, and I hung my calico curtains 
 'cross the front of it, packed in my truck-chests, and 
 while the house was a-filling up plump full of the black, 
 greasy -faced beggars, I got ready for business. 
 
 " They raised me the five dollars in silver and paid it 
 cheerfull as you please ; the beggars'll give their last 
 cent either for a drink of whisky or to see any kind 
 of a queer performance that is new to them. 
 
 " Well, I opened up on 'em. I performed with rings, 
 with cup and ball, and set 'em all a-gruntin' and a- 
 ehuggering with delight. 
 
 " Then I loaded a pistol, marked the bullet, and let 
 'em examine it ; and then handing the pistol to a young 
 buck I told him to shoot me squarely between the eyes. 
 That was too much for them Comanches ; they just 
 gripped their seats and grunted like a lot of wild hogs 
 that you've just jumped in a thicket of sweet-briers. 
 
 " That young buck's hand trembled like a mule's ear ; 
 but he pulled down on me, gritty like, shut his teeth, 
 and cut loose. Then them Comanches just rose to their 
 feet and yelled ! But I stepped down out of the smoke 
 
94 
 
 IHJOIAN TALES. 
 
 4 LM3J 11U 
 
 med with rings."-— Page 98. 
 
INDIAN TALES. 95 
 
 and motioned 'em back into their seats, and got 'em 
 quiet agin. 
 
 " Then 1 opened my lips and showed 'em the bullet 
 between my teeth, and when they'd all seen it there, I 
 took it out and passed it round. It had the same marks 
 as the bullet they'd seen me put in the pistol. 
 
 " But I hadn't done with 'em yet ; fool that I was, 
 I proposed the rope performance, and called on two of 
 their best men to come up and tie me, telling 'em that 
 I could get out of their knots before one of 'em would 
 have time to saddle a pony, if the horse were right 
 there. 
 
 " I produced my rope, a good long one, three-eights, 
 and stout enough to hold a two-year-old steer. I lay 
 down on the platform and told 'em to come on and do 
 their tying. At first they all seemed a little scared of 
 trying ; that bullet business, you see, had made 'em a 
 little shy 'bout fooling round me. 
 
 " Presently a big, tall, ugly-looking old buck, wear- 
 ing a green blanket round him and a lot of dyed turkey 
 feathers in his hair, came up on the stage and motioned 
 to a stout young one, sitting near, to come and help 
 him. The young chap trotted up, and they went at 
 me. 
 
 " I swelled out my muscles with all my might ; you 
 know how the trick's done; but, gentlemen, before 
 they got half done, I knew I was cornered. 
 
 " I saw it in that old black villain's wrinkled, scowl- 
 ing face and in his murderous, snaky little eyes. He 
 was one of their medicine men, probably the greatest 
 of the tribe. The old brute" was jealous of me ; and 
 knowing there was nothing any more supernatural 
 about my tricks than about his own heedyus juggling, 
 
96 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 he'd made up his mind to corral me in one of my own 
 performances. 
 
 " "Well, gentlemen, that rope was passed round my 
 wrists in a twinkling, and drawed so tight that I 
 winked hard with the pain, and I felt the veins swell 
 almost to bursting. 
 
 " From my wrists they passed the rope tight around 
 my waist, then took a half hitch around my neck and 
 knotted it under my arms. Then they went for iny 
 legs with the other end of the rope, and tied my ankles 
 ( I'd taken off my boots ) so tight that my feet ached 
 before they'd finished knotting. 
 
 " I laid there and never opened my mouth ; I 
 wouldn't even let myself think till they pulled the cur- 
 tains on me. When they got through, I told 'em to 
 draw the curtain and shut me in so that I might set 
 my medicine at work on the ropes. I saw the old med- 
 icine-man grin as I give the order. He shoved the 
 young fellow off the staging and pulled the curtains to, 
 leaving himself inside. Then I hearda surprised grunt 
 all over the house, and I began to think. 
 
 " I let my muscles relax and shrunk up like a turtle ; 
 but them knots shrunk with me, and I found myself 
 helpless as a baby ; and there was that old grinning 
 wretch bending over me with his snakish black eyes 
 just glittering in triumph ! 
 
 " i Guess you've got me, old man,' said I ; ' what are 
 you going to do about it % ' 
 
 " He bent over me, and made a hissing noise with 
 his mouth, a noise that sounded exactly like the buzz of 
 a rattlesnake's tail. Everything and everybody in the 
 room was as still as a tomb-stone. I couldn't hear a 
 breath outside. All at once that wretch stopped his 
 
INDIAN TALKS. 97 
 
 hissing, and with a quick movement jerked my head up 
 between his knees, jammed something between my jaws, 
 whipped a red scarf out from under his blanket, and 
 passed it around my head and mouth — gagged me, in 
 fact, tight as a dor.ble-sinched bucker. 
 
 " 'I've given my last show on this earth,' I thought. 
 Then the old villain backed down off the platform and 
 slipped out from under the curtain. 
 
 " There was a general grunt of curiosity and aston- 
 ishment outside, and a heap of admiration, for their old 
 juggler was mixed up with their racket. 
 
 " 'Silence ! ' growled the old wretch in Comanche. 
 ' Silence ! I have breathed upon the bad medicine-man 
 of the whites. If I had not done so, his vile, poisonous 
 breath would have slain every warrior in the room. 
 At midnight every one of you would have died. Just 
 as the moon rose above the tree-tops, your spirits would 
 have left your bodies. Your squaws and your children 
 would have been given to them crawling snakes, the 
 Creeks and the Choctaws in the East.' 
 
 " Of course I'm only trying to give you the substance 
 of what he said. I don't understand their jargon, only 
 well enough to get their general meaning. When the 
 old man ceased speaking, the crowd just got up and 
 shrieked in the awfullest blood-curdling yells you ever 
 dreamed of! for a minute I thought my time had come, 
 and that I should be torn to pieces by the screeching 
 mob, but the old man shook his medicine-rattle at 'em 
 and down they sat again, quiet as you please. 
 
 " ' Listen ! ' ho said. 'Go home now, my children, to 
 your tepees and sleep ; come not here till morning, when 
 you'll find the bad medicine of the whites harmless as 
 the water of the Coder. He shall not hurt you. Go, 
 
98 INDIAN TALKS. 
 
 and leave me with the medicine-dog ; for I must breathe 
 again upon him, and my breath will take away all his 
 charms and all his magic. He shall ketch no more 
 bullets in his teeth. Go, my children, for my breath is 
 sacred and can be of no good until all the members of 
 my tribe are in their lodges.' 
 
 " And do you believe it, they all got up and skipped 
 out of there, every mother's son of 'em ! There I was, 
 left alone with that heedyus old beast. I had worked 
 desputly all the time he was talking, trying to draw 
 my hands from the rope. I loosened one of 'em 
 just a trifle, enough to know that in half an hour 
 of hard work I could bring my wrist through, by peel- 
 ing all the skin off with it. Well, when they'd gone 
 and the last sound of 'em died away, the old juggler 
 stuck his face inside. * 
 
 " ' I go now ' says he, 1 go to my tepee to prepare my 
 medicines^ against the medicine of the white dog. 
 When I come again the white man's magic shall all be 
 mine ; he will tell me all his medicines.' Then he came 
 inside, felt of all my knots, made himself sure of 'em, 
 and then went out and left me. 
 
 " ' So that's your game, is it ? ' thought I, and I 
 began to take hope at once. I hadn't time to think 
 over the situation ; I just worked like a beaver, with 
 the sweat pouring off me like rain off a slicker. 
 
 "It was a struggle for life ; for of course I hadn't a 
 doubt but the medicine-man meant to kill me, whether 
 I told him any of my tricks or not. He would smother 
 me like a cat in a sack, and pretend to his . tribe that 
 his breath had killed the medicine-man of the whites, 
 when he would possess himself of my trinkets and be 
 the greatest man that ever trod a Comanche town. 
 
INDIAN TALES. 99 
 
 " Well, he was gone longer than I had any reason to 
 hope for ; and after a time I wrenched my right hand 
 through the loop that held it. And I peeled it, too, 
 peeled it horribly. But after that the work was easy ; 
 I got my arm loose, got my jackknifeoutof my pocket, 
 managed to open the big blade with the stiff, swelled 
 fingers of my other hand. Then I cut and slashed for 
 a minute, tore the bandage off my mouth, and spit out 
 a deer's-horn charm. I was nearly smothered with my 
 efforts, ; for of course I couldn't breathe through my 
 mouth till I got the scarf off ; but I soon gained my 
 breath and sat up, a free man. 
 
 " Then I began to think and to act. My right hand 
 was just streaming with blood, and an idee struck, me. 
 I smeared it all over my face, till it was perfectly red 
 with blood. Then I got up and fished a white sheet 
 out of one of my chests, a piece of 'white factory * that 
 I'd used in some of my tricks. I put that around me, 
 turned down the lantern and the other light inside the 
 curtains, got out my six-shooter, then leaned back 
 against the wall and waited. 
 
 - "It was nearly half an hour yet before I heard the 
 old heathen coming. He stole in, soft as a cat, and 
 slid along up to the curtains. I always carry three 
 lamps with me. Two of them were burning in the 
 room ; but he seemed puzzled about the light behind 
 the curtain. Presently he opened a crack and peeked 
 in. What do you think I saw ? The horribiest face 
 ever a human being wore ! The cheeks painted a blar- 
 ish green, half-moons of ghastly yellow under the eyes, 
 a jet-black ring about the ugly, grinning mouth, and 
 three blood-red stripes across the forehead ; while the 
 
100 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 little black eyes shone with a fierce, beastly glitter that 
 couldn't be described. 
 
 " He'd got himself up in a more fearful shape than I 
 had. He was going to scare me ; but he didn't succeed 
 — -not any ! 
 
 " He gave a surprised ' whooh ' as he looked on the 
 floor ; there was nothing there but a bloody spot. I'd 
 cleared away the ropes and tossed 'em one side. Then 
 he looked up and I stepped forward, jerked the curtains 
 one side, and exhibited my git-up to him. With a 
 sharp yell he threw up both his hands, and there came 
 over his bedaubed face the ghastliest look of fright it's 
 ever ben my fortune to behold. I wish I could have 
 painted it ; I should be famous to-day. 
 
 " But I didn't give him any time to recover ; I jumped 
 for him, and struck out as I jumped. He went his 
 length on that platform like a beef -ox. Then I grabbed 
 the pieces of rope and before he came to himself enough 
 to realize what the movement meant, I had him tied ; 
 yes, and had that old deer's-horn charm between his 
 jaws, bound there with his own red scarf, tighter than 
 wax! 
 
 *\ I'd bound him with limp muscles, and he was there 
 to stay ! He came to himself in a minute and glared 
 at me frightfully. 
 
 " ' Ha ! ha ! ' says I. ' You'll breathe on the white 
 dog, will you — you f Lay there and learn to let the 
 medicine of the white man alone ! 
 
 " But I didn't waste time palavering at him. I 
 hustled my things out of there, hitched onto my cart, 
 and skipped out and away ; and, gentlemen, I never 
 went, fooling round any Comanohe village agin." 
 
XL 
 
 THE OLD JUDGE'S STORY. 
 
 " I have lived on the frontier all my life, beginning 
 as a boy in Ohio, and regularly moving west with each 
 fresh migration of settlers, to newer territories, where 
 the sdd was still unturned, and though I have gone 
 through with some rough experiences, as all pioneers 
 must, yet I have never bad any serious trouble with my 
 fellowmen, either white or red, save on one occasion. 
 That was in the summer of '53, the year after I had 
 settled at my present farm on the Iowa River bottom- 
 lands." 
 
 It was after this manner that " Old Judge Crego," 
 as he was commonly called, used to preface his account 
 of his pioneer troubles with the Muskquakie Indians, 
 in the early days of Iowa's history. The old gentleman 
 had been a county judge in Illinois or Indiana, the 
 writer has forgotten which. 
 
 " Yes, I had trouble then ; serious trouble, too. It 
 happened in haying time, about the last days in July. 
 We w;ere living in a new log-house on the east side of 
 the river, myself, my wife and child, and our hired 
 hand, a young fellow named Aleck "Wingate. We had 
 one child, our little Susie, five years old. 
 
 " Our cabin was then the highest mark of civilization 
 
 — in one sense at least — upon the Iowa River, for there 
 
 were no settlers above us, and the nearest family below 
 
 was seven miles distant. We were, indeed, well out 
 
 upon the frontier ; yet we had lived there for more than 
 
 101 
 
102 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 a year, meeting with no foes more dangerous than the 
 wild beasts. - 
 
 ""We knew there were hunting-parties of Indians 
 frequently roaming about the country, chasing the 
 herds of elk, which were then very numerous along 
 the upper Iowa and its western branches. But these 
 Indians, we were told, belonged to the friendly lowas, 
 Musquakies, and to Johnny Greene's tribe ; and so when 
 a band of some thirty, calling themselves Musquakies, 
 came and camped at the mouth of a creek two miles 
 above us, we felt no uneasiness at their presence, our 
 only annoyance coming from the begging propensities 
 which they speedily developed. 
 
 " They would come singly, and in twos and threes, 
 stalking in at the door generally at meal-time, and beg 
 importunately for l bled ' (bread) and 'sug ' and ' tobac,' 
 the latter an article of which Aleck always kept a 
 bountiful supply on hand. Aleck and I were then at 
 work harvesting a twelve-acre field of wheat, which 
 we had managed to get in the spring before ; and as 
 this field was in an opening in plain sight of the cabin, 
 we were, during the first week of the Indians' stay, 
 always within call of my wife, who often sat in the 
 open door, with Susy playing at her feet, and watched 
 us as we cradled, bound, and ' set up ' the grain. 
 
 "But when we went at our haying, on the wide 
 marsh which lay upon the west end of my land across 
 the river, we were much farther away. 
 
 " One morning, about ten o'clock, I should think, as 
 we were at work, Aleck looked up — he was mowing 
 just ahead of me— and threw down his scythe with a 
 shout of surprise. 
 
INDIAN TALES. 103 
 
 " ; Look i ' be cried. ' Is Mis' Crego crazy ? ' 
 
 " Some twenty rods distant my wife was running 
 through the grass, with Susy in her arms.' I saw in 
 an instant that she was terribly frightened. Susy, too, 
 was screaming. 
 
 " ' Why, why, Em!' I shouted, when she came within 
 calling distance ; ' what does this mean ? Is it Indians % ' 
 
 " She came out onto the mowed ground, and threw 
 herself and child down upon a swath of hay, and there- 
 she lay for a minute, gasping for breath, while Aleck 
 and I, who had both run to meet her, stared at her and 
 at each, other in indignant amazement, for we had both 
 by this time divined something of what her story would 
 be. 
 
 " ' John, ' she gasped, at length, 'there's an — Indian 
 — at— the house ! He— he — shook me— pulled my hair 
 — and — and — kicked Susy / ' 
 
 " I waited not to hear another word. 
 
 " ' Stay with them, Aleck ! ' I shouted, and was off at 
 full run. 
 
 " My wife screamed to me to come back, but my 
 temper was started, and I was determined to punish 
 the insolent wretch if I had to chase him into the 
 midst of his own camp. 
 
 " I splashed through the river, and when I reached 
 the cabin, and dashed in at the door, I found that sav- 
 age wretch .seated cross-legged on the center of our 
 table, stolidly gnawing a lean pork shank which my 
 wife had boiled for dinner. The pulling of a squaw's 
 hair and the kicking of a papoose were affairs of such 
 minor importance in his tribe, that he probably could 
 not conceive that I should be violently angry that he 
 had exercised a man's supreme privilege in my home. 
 
104 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 Or more probably, he merely thought my wife had run 
 out of doors and hid herself and child, until he should 
 go away. Be that as it may, I gave him no time to 
 think or act after he saw me. I knocked him over, 
 table and all. 
 
 " He threw the table off with an angry grunt, sprang 
 to his feet, and started out. He went away slowly. I 
 knew Indians well enough to know what the fellow 
 meant by that sullen, dignified gait : he would have 
 his revenge. 
 
 " I felt that I had been hasty ; that, in fact, I had 
 done a most unwise thing, notwithstanding the Indi- 
 an's brutal treatment of my wife and child. Not that 
 I was sorry to have punished the fellow, and turned 
 him out of my house, but I had placed myself and 
 family in extreme jeopardy by my hasty course of 
 action. If I had taken him and bound his hands, and 
 then driven him back to his camp at the muzzle of my 
 rifle, both he and his fellows would no doubt have 
 looked upon it as a merited punishment for his trespass 
 upon my premises ; but to have struck him I knew was 
 an indignity to which no brave would tamely submit. 
 
 " Events afterwards proved that I judged the matter 
 rightly. 
 
 My wife and Aleck came hurrying to the house 
 after me, both scared half to death, and when I told 
 them what I had done we held a council. 
 
 " We concluded without much argument that it 
 would not be safe to leave the house alone, and of 
 course that Em and Susy could not be left alone there 
 for a single hour, so long as that party of Indians 
 remained about. So we finally arranged that old ' Tad 5 
 
INDIAN TALES. 105 
 
 Newcome, a one-legged trapper, who lived in the 
 woods three miles below us, should be hired to come up 
 and stay at the house during haying, and, if he would, 
 until the trapping season set in. 
 
 " One evening, as Aleck and I were driving up fronr 
 the ford with a load of hay — we had taken my horses 
 and the, wagon over after we began haying, so as to 
 haul home and stack a load every night — we met old. 
 Tad, stumping towards us, his hat off, his face white 
 and working strangely, and his actions showing that 
 something terrible had occurred. 
 
 " * Whoa ! ' shouted Aleck, who was driving ; and he 
 looked up at me. 
 
 " I slipped off the load and stepped out in front of 
 the old trapper as he came up. 
 
 « « For Heaven's sake ! ' I exclaimed, what is the 
 matter ? ' 
 
 " * Jedge,' said he, with a kind of gasp, as though 
 the news choked him, ' they've got the babby / ' 
 
 " I staggered back against the hay like a drunken 
 man. For a moment it seemed as though the blood had 
 all left the surface of my body and gone to my heart, 
 and I felt so faint and sick that I could not speak. 
 
 "' Jedge/ said the old man again, and his voice 
 shook as though he had an ague chill, ' Jedge, I — I — I 
 never dreamt' — tout he broke down and could not 
 finish. 
 
 " ' My wife,' said I, getting my voice, ' is she safe ? " 
 
 " He nodded his head and pointed to the cabin. 
 
 " By that time I had gathered my senses enough to 
 note that Aleck was flying around the horses, unhitch- 
 ing and throwing the harness off them like a wild man. 
 
106 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 " I saw what was his purpose, and my wits seemed 
 to come to me With sudden sharpness. 
 
 " ' That's right, Aleck,' said I ; ' off with everything 
 but the bridles.' 
 
 " ' Now,' said I, turning to the old trapper again, 
 ' tell me how it happened, when they took her and 
 which way, and tell me quick ! ' 
 
 " ' It war 'bout a hour ago, nigh, I sh'd reckon,' he 
 answered ; ' the leetle thing run round back o' the 
 cabin, whilst I was settin' smokin' in front, 'n 'er ma 
 wus a-workin' at 'er ir'nin' inside. We didn't notice 
 'bout 'er bein' gone long, 'n' purty soon I 'heerd, or 
 thought I heerd, a kin' o' smothery screech out back 
 to'rds the age o' the woods. I run roun* an' couldn' 
 see nothin' o the babby ner nothin' else, 'n' es I wus a 
 lettle scart, I called to 'er ma ter come 'n' help me fin' 
 the young un, an' said I guessed she'd strayed off 
 down to'rds the creek. That scart yer wife ter'ble, 'n' 
 though I didn't say nothin' 'boot Injuns, I knowed 
 she was a-thinkin' of 'em, 'n' we scattered out in the 
 woods. 
 
 " ' Wal, jedge, we hunted 'long 'nough fer me to run 
 acrost a fraish Injun track on the age o' a gopher 
 knoll. I didn't say nothin' 'boift that ter the wife 
 though ; but she jes give it up purty quick, 'n' says she 
 ter me, says she, " Go 'n' git John quick, 'n' tell 'im 
 the Injuns 've got our babby," 'n' then she p'inted fer 
 the cabin, a-weepin', oh, ter'ble! 
 
 " ' An' now, jedge,' he went on, all the time, in a 
 hopeless tone of voice, ' I don' wanter diskerridge ye, but 
 it's my honest opinyen ye'll navver see that babby 
 alive agin. Them Injuns is sech revenging critters; ! 
 but he went down the crick, jedge, 'n' you wanter go 
 
INDIAN TALIS. 107 
 
 up crick ; min' now, what I tell ye, up crick ter their 
 camp 'n' thout no guns, nor we'pons o' any kind ; 'n' ef 
 the Injuns is thair, ye want to ride right in, 'n' demand 
 that babby, 'n' demand 'er strong, 'n' if they've got 'er 
 alive, ye'll git 'er, V if they haint, ye won't/ and with 
 that the old fellow turned and stumped off towards 
 the house. 
 
 " By this time Aleck had the horses ready for mount- 
 ing and was waiting. We jumped on to their backs 
 and rode off up the river. I did not dare wait to go 
 and see my wife ; I felt that I must and would find my 
 child alive. 
 
 " I do not think Aleck and I were more than fifteen 
 minutes reaching the Indian camp. It was located in 
 a beautiful fur-oak grove, five lodges, or tepees, being- 
 grouped in a cluster at the mouth of a creek. It was 
 dark, and the camp-fires were flickering in front of 
 each lodge as we rode up ; and we could see a number 
 of bucks, squatted smoking, about the two central ones. 
 
 " They paid not the slightest attention to us until I 
 had dismounted, given my rein to Aleck and walked 
 into their midst I looked then, over quickly and 
 carefully, as I answered ' How do s to their grunted 
 salutations, and soon my eye fell upon the identical 
 Indian whom I was searching for. He was sitting 
 with his face turned partly away from the fire, and 
 was Rooking doggedly down the long pipe-stem at 
 which he was pulling stolidly. I knew his ugly visage 
 instantly and stepped in front of him, but still he did 
 not lift his eyes. 
 
 ei ''Get up /' I commanded ; and Aleck afterward said 
 that my words sounded like the click of a gun-lock. 
 
 " The Indian sprang to his feet with an angry grunt, 
 
108 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 and looked at me with eyes that glowed, in the fire- 
 light, like two coals ; while his companions rose to 
 their feet also, with guttural exclamations. 
 
 " '"Where is my child, my little girl?' I asked, keeping 
 my voice as calm as I could, though I felt it quiver as 
 1 spoke. 
 
 " The Indian gave an impatient shrug, and made a 
 gesture of not understanding, but he began backing 
 away as though to avoid further questioning. 
 
 " I stepped forward, and reached out my hand to seize 
 him by the shoulder, or the throat, I was not particular 
 which, and as I did so I heard Aleck's voice, sharp and 
 keen with warning : 
 
 "' Judge! look out!' and then I felt a stunning, 
 crashing sensation in my head, and went down under a 
 blow given treacherously by an Indian behind me. . . 
 
 " It must have been an hour or more before I came 
 to myself, and when I did so I found myself upon the 
 ground where the Musquakies had left me, whether for 
 dead or not, I never knew. The Indians had pulled up 
 their lodges, mounted their ponies, and fled. 
 
 " When I had recovered enough to take in the situ- 
 ation, I got up, and staggered off toward home. I 
 turned so dizzy, sick and faint a dozen times before I 
 reached home, that I felt certain I was about to drop 
 down and die ; but at last I got there, and opened the 
 door, half expecting to find everybody gone, or mur- 
 dered, and what do you think I saw ? 
 
 " There was my wife, sitting in our old rocking-chair, 
 in the middle of the floor, holding Susy asleep in her 
 arms! 
 
 " I fainted dead away. I was brought to my senses 
 by old Tad and my wife, who had worked over me for 
 
INDIAN TALES. 109 
 
 a long time, and when they finally got me so that I 
 could sit up, they told their story. 
 
 "About an hour and a half, as they judged, after 
 Aleck and I had started for the Indian camp, as my 
 wife lay sobbing on the bed, and the old trapper sat 
 gloomily in the arm-chair, they heard a child's voice, 
 little Susy's, crying at the door. My wife flew to 
 it, and snatched up her child, and old Tad, without 
 waiting an instant, snatched his cap and rifle, and fear- 
 ing that Aleck and I had got into trouble, started for the 
 Indian camp. He found the camp deserted, but did not 
 see me, and then came back, to find my wife working 
 over me, and almost in despair of my life ! 
 
 " Where Aleck was, they did not know ; but he soon 
 came in to inform us, and with him came several men 
 on horses, from the settlement below, where he had 
 ridden with all speed to bring them to the rescue. 
 
 " He had tried to warn me at the camp as the red- 
 skin who struck me lifted his hatchet, but his outcry 
 was raised too late. He had seen me go down, struck 
 by the flat of the Indian's hatchet ; and then, as a num- 
 ber of them turned threateningly toward him,he wheeled 
 the horse around, and made swiftly across the ' Big 
 Bend ' to the settlement below. He hoped to rouse 
 them, and cut the Indians off, as he correctly guessed 
 that they would beat a quick retreat. He had not 
 doubted that they would kill me out of revenge. They 
 were all surprised, and not a little rejoiced, at the turn 
 of events. 
 
 " We did not pursue the Indians, all agreeing that 
 no good could come of it after what had happened. 
 By a good deal of questioning we got out of Susy, that 
 a ' bad black man ' had carried her away, and took her 
 
110 
 
 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 to his queer house where the ' naughty folks ' fright- 
 ened her so that she dared not 'talk or cry,' and then 
 that ' after a while ' the ' bad black man brunged ' her 
 'home again/ 
 
 "I do not know what the Indians had meant to do 
 with her; but after what had happened at their camp, 
 they no doubt feared either to keep her, or harm her, 
 and so had brought our child back to us. 
 
 "That was the only trouble I ever had with Indians, 
 and was the last, in fact, that we ever saw of any of 
 those Musquakies." 
 
WAPPER-JAW JOHN. 
 
 I remember "Wapper-Jaw John," the gray-haired 
 Winnebago, who, when I was a boy, used occasionally 
 to visit the neighborhood in which I lived. Despite 
 his strikingly deformed and ugly face, people who knew 
 him seemed always to be kindly disposed toward him. 
 They bought his curiously-wrought willow and splint 
 baskets, and often gave him food and a night's lodging. 
 
 His face was angular and deeply wrinkled ; the under 
 jaw was set with a curious twist on one side, and it 
 twitched and grimaced grotesquely when he talked — and 
 he could talk only brokenly. 
 
 He was a harmless old fellow, with a good deal of 
 shrewd sense. He was unlike the other members of his 
 tribe, and kept apart from them. The other Winne- 
 bagoes, so far as we knew them, were worthless, beg- 
 ging vagabonds, who to the number of a hundred or 
 more visited us semi-annually. 
 
 John did really earn an honest living, and was never 
 
 known to beg, although, like other wandering Indians, 
 
 he carried his " papers," a lot of written testimonials 
 
 certifying him to be " a good Indian." Two or three 
 
 of these precious documents were of considerable length, 
 
 and they narrated John's services and friendly exploits 
 
 in behalf of white people. in times of Indian outbreaks. 
 
 He carried the papers in a beaded buckskin wallet in a 
 
 pocket that he had made for this purpose in the breast 
 
 of his coarse shirt. 
 
 m 
 
112 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 One of these accounts covered several foolscap pages. 
 It was written in a close, fine hand that was perfectly 
 legible, though the paper was yellow with age and 
 wear. 
 
 I remember the evident pride and satisfaction which 
 John displayed, and the great care with which he 
 handled this paper, when, occasionally, he presented it 
 to some member of our family to be read or inspected. 
 He always got it out when he came where there were 
 children or young folks, for they liked to hear the story 
 repeated. 
 
 At this date I cannot, of course, remember the 
 exact sentences in which John's narrator had told of 
 his brave and humane exploit, but the incidents are 
 still fresh in my mind. 
 
 It was in June, 1832, several weeks after the out- 
 break of the Sacs and Foxes, remembered as the Black 
 Hawk "War, that Wapper-Jaw John rendered heroic 
 service to a venturous little family of settlers in one of 
 the narrow valleys among the bluffs opposite Saulj 
 Prairie. At this time, according to Smith's " History 
 of Wisconsin," the Sacs and Foxes — 
 
 "Had scattered their war parties all over the North, 
 from Chicago to Galena, and from the Illinois rive? 
 into the Territory of Wisconsin. They occupied every 
 grove, waylaid every road, hung around every settle- 
 ment, and attacked every party of white men that 
 attempted to penetrate the country." 
 
 This condition of affairs had lasted nearly a month, 
 compelling settlers on all hands to gather themselves 
 and their effects at fortified points and into hastily 
 constructed block-houses. Yet in this perilous time 
 one family, a young man and his wife and child, whose 
 
INDIAN TALES. 113 
 
 home was upon the extreme northern frontier, were 
 living in complete ignorance that there was any Indian 
 outbreak. 
 
 Early in the previous April James Streeter had 
 moved up from northern Illinois with his small family, 
 and had settled upon a squatter claim in a pocket of 
 the Black Earth Valley. He had the property usually 
 possessed by the "mover " upon the frontiers in those 
 days ; it consisting of a yoke of oxen and a wagon, a 
 cow or two, some chickens, and a few simple house- 
 hold utensils. 
 
 After their arrival upon the claim, the young settler 
 i and his wife were kept so busy in building a small cabin, 
 and in clearing, breaking up and planting a small patch 
 of ground, that they found no time to cultivate 
 acquaintances in a region where their nearest neigh- 
 bors were nearly twenty miles distant. 
 
 As the coming of this family into the region was 
 unknown to' the other settlers, its members failed to 
 receive warning from the couriers who spread the news 
 of Black Hawk's uprising among the hills south of the 
 Wisconsin river. Fortunately for the Streeter family, - 
 its whereabouts was also unknown ttrthe hostile Indians, 
 the cabin being a little beyond their usual range of 
 attack. ' _ 
 
 The husband and wife worked on undisturbed until a 
 cabin had been built, and three acres of ground thor- 
 oughly broken up and planted to corn, potatoes and 
 garden seeds. The plants had come up, and had been 
 hoed once, when the couple found that their small stock 
 of provisions was nearly exhausted. 
 
 The nearest market for the Streeters was Dodge- 
 ville, more than twenty miles distant from their claim. 
 
114 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 It was necessary that one of the couple should stay at 
 home to watch the cows and the growing crops, and 
 Mr. Streeter set out alone for Dodgeville, with oxen 
 and wagon, to get flour and other needed articles. 
 
 He started on his journey just after sunrise one 
 morning. His wife finished her morning's work about 
 the cabin, and went out with a hoe to work in the 
 field, taking with her the child, a little girl four years 
 of age. 
 
 Though living miles from any neighbors, the hardy 
 women of those days often stayed alone while their 
 husbands were gone for days, and sometimes for weeks, 
 upon hunting or trapping excursions, or to distant 
 marketing points. 
 
 Mrs. Streeter worked for some hours " hilling up " 
 young potato vines, while Elsie, the little girl, played 
 with a small kitten, their one domestic pet. "With a 
 sudden scream, the child came running to her mother, 
 and caught her by the dress. Mrs. Streeter looked 
 about in alarm, fearing that a rattlesnake had bitten 
 the child, and discovered the cause of her fright to be 
 an Indian who had come out of the brush a few rods 
 distant, and was approaching them. 
 
 Although she was not afraid of Indians, she was 
 annoyed that one of them should come_ while her 
 husband was away. She knew that often they were 
 lawless and thieving when they discovered women 
 alone. 
 
 As the Indian came toward her, his face mowed and 
 grinned so curiously that she felt an impulse to laugh 
 until she saw that its expression came from a deformity. 
 
 " Hoogh-oogh ! " he grunted, as he came up. " You 
 go, you squaw, guck a chee heap klick 1 You go longa 
 
INDIAN TALES, 115 
 
 me! Heap Injun comin'l" and he pointed up the 
 valley. " We go yonder ! " pointing this time toward 
 the Wisconsin. 
 
 The woman was frightened at his words and manner, 
 notwithstanding that he tried to laugh and look as 
 pleasant as his queer features would permit, ancLthough 
 he had no weapons in sight. 
 
 " Men kill heap. Me no hurt. You go. We heap 
 puck a chee" and he reached down to pick up the child. 
 
 The little girl screamed with terror, and Mrs. Streeter 
 caught her up and stepped back. 
 
 "No, I will not go with you ! " said she. "You're a 
 bad Injun, and you're lying to me ! " She had quickly 
 concluded that the Indian merely wished to entice her 
 away while his companions pillaged the premises. 
 
 Again the Winnebago— for it was John— tried to 
 explain to her that he meant to be friendly, and to aid 
 her to escape from danger. 
 
 " Heap Outagamie/ " (Fox Indians) said he. " Men 
 come, shoot, kill. Kill papoose, kill white squaw. 
 Squaw go me, so," and again he motioned toward the 
 river, and, by imitating the act of paddling and by 
 sweeping his hand forward, signified that he would take 
 her across it in his canoe. 
 
 - " No, you go and leave me ! " said the woman, sternly. 
 "I won't go with you. Go!" she repeated, pointing 
 toward the woods, and then she turned, with the little 
 girl in her arms, and started toward the cabin. 
 
 Instantly the Indian sprang foward, then snatched 
 the child from her, and, catching her by the shoulders, 
 forced her down to the ground upon her face, and 
 quickly tied her arms. He had evidently come pre- 
 pared to carry out his plan by force ? if necessary, and 
 
116 - INDIAN TALES. 
 
 the poor woman felt that her instinct had been true. 
 Not daring to struggle, she submitted to be bound a 
 captive. 
 
 Elsie, the little girl, had started to run into the 
 woods, but John caught her, and took her, screaming, 
 into his arms. He walked quickly back with her to 
 Mrs. Streeter, who had risen, after a struggle, to her 
 feet. 
 
 " Come," said he. " You go longa me now, heap 
 klick ! Me take papoose. We fuck a chee," and he 
 started toward the river, beckoning her to follow. He 
 had Elsie in his arms, and there was nothing for the now 
 thoroughly frightened and trembling woman to do but 
 to go with him. 
 
 It was several miles to the river. The "Winnebago 
 hurried forward at a half trot, the child crying pite- 
 ously at every step, while the distressed mother, 
 nearly out of breath, kept close at his heels, trying to 
 cheer her little girl with words of affection. John was 
 probably too stolid to care greatly for the papoose's 
 wailing, or for its mother's distress of mind, but he was 
 intent upon doing them a friendly service, and no 
 doubt was carrying it out with as much kindness as he 
 was capable of exercising. 
 
 At a little after noonday they came to the river at 
 the mouth of a creek, and here John put down the 
 child, which he had carried and led alternately, and 
 going into the edge of a willow thicket upon the bank, 
 dragged out a long canoe, which contained a gun and 
 some blankets. The canoe he slid down into the 
 water, and ordered Mrs. Streeter to get down the 
 bank and step into it. 
 
 With her hands bound as they were, she found it 
 
INDIAN TALES. 117 
 
 difficult to get into and sit down in the " tittlish " nar- 
 row trough, but she finally managed, without tipping 
 it over, to take her place in the bow of the slight 
 craft. 
 
 The Indian then carefully placed Elsie upon her 
 knees in the centre of the canoe. " No touch um," he 
 commanded, tapping the sides of the canoe. "Keep a 
 heap still." The little girl, tired and subdued, dared 
 not so much as stir. Then John picked up a paddle 
 which he had laid upon tho bank, got carefully into 
 the canoe at the stern, shoved out into the river, and 
 paddled the frail craft swiftly down the stream. 
 
 The anguish of the poor woman was keen as she 
 thought of the husband who had so recently been with 
 her, and of the uncertain fate of her little child and 
 herself. She could not believe the Indian's story that 
 he was rescuing them from danger. His violence and 
 his rapid retreat, and this journey upon the river, lead- 
 ing to the west and away from the white settlement, 
 could to her mind mean Only that he was carrying 
 them away into that wretched captivity which she 
 knew that more than one woman and child had suffered 
 at the hands of savages. 
 
 Brave woman though she was, she gave herself up to 
 despair. 
 
 All that day the canoe sped rapidly down stream, 
 keeping as close under the bank as possible, and it was 
 not until after sundown that John landed and got his 
 captives out upon the bank where they could rest their 
 cramped limbs. He then undid a roll of blankets and 
 got out some dried meat, which he offered to Mrs. 
 Streeter, motioning that the papoose could feed her. 
 The woman could not eat, but by coaxing induced the 
 
118 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 tired and hungry little girl to swallow a few scraps of 
 the raw, tasteless venison. 
 
 After a time the Indian untied Mrs. Streeter's hands, 
 being careful to keep between her and his gun. Then 
 he motioned to the blankets. 
 
 " Squaw make urn bed," said he ; " heap sleep." 
 
 Glad of so much freedom and a chance to rest and 
 to comfort her child, Mrs. Streeter made a rough 
 couch, took Elsie in her arms and lay down upon it. 
 The little girl was soon asleep, but the mother lay nar- 
 rowly watching the Indian, waiting for a chance to 
 escape if he should drop asleep or relax his guard in 
 any way. 
 
 She got no opportunity, however ; John sat near at 
 hand, leaning against a tree, stiff and upright, with his 
 gun across his legs. After about two hours of rest, he 
 ordered her to get up again and get into the boat, tell- 
 ing her to " take papoose." 
 
 She carried the sleeping child down the bank, and 
 while the Indian steadied the canoe at the stern, got in 
 at the bow. John threw in the blankets, got in, put 
 his gun between his knees, and took up the paddles. 
 All night they floated swiftly down the river, the. long, 
 steady sweep of the Indian's paddle doubling the rate 
 at which the canoe was borne by the rapid current. 
 
 Mrs. Streeter endured her anxiety and fatigue as 
 bravely as she could, not daring, on account of her 
 child, to make any demonstrations ; but she was all the 
 time on the watch for a chance to escape from her 
 captor. 
 
 At a little after sunrise the "Winnebago landed upon 
 a bar at the north bank, and ordered her to get out of 
 the canoe. After carrying Elsie asleep in her arms all 
 
INDIAN TALES. 119 
 
 night, she found her own limbs to be so cramped and 
 stiff that at first it was impossible to use them. Seeing 
 her condition the Indian swung the stern round, dragged 
 the canoe out upon the bar, and helped her out. 
 
 He now, for the first time, aroused in her a little 
 hope by saying : " Heap white mans, heap soje," point- 
 ing to the northwest. " Walk, sun so," showing her 
 where the sun would be when their journey should* 
 end. He again offered his captives the dried meat, 
 and the pangs of hunger compelled both woman and 
 child to make a hearty meal. 
 
 After they had rested awhile and got the cramp out 
 of their legs and arms, the Indian pointed out the 
 direction in which they were to go, And ordered Mrs. 
 Streeter to walk ahead and lead the little girl. He let 
 them walk slowly, keeping a rod or two behind them, 
 with his gun and blankets. After three hours of 
 tramping they came out of the woods upon a hill over- 
 looking a broad valley — the Mississippi Yalley — and 
 then the Indian came eagerly forward. 
 
 " See," he said, his face grinning and working with 
 evident pleasure as he pointed to a distant cluster of 
 buildings upon the bank of a wide river which lay in 
 front of them. " See, Plata doo shang ! " 
 
 It was the frontier fort and trading post of Prairie 
 du Ghien. Mrs. Streeter had heard of this place, but 
 had known only vaguely where it was situated. 
 
 She now perceived that her captor had intended all 
 his acts in friendliness. An hour later she and her 
 child were safely housed at the fort, and her delight 
 and thankfulness at this outcome to her adventure may 
 be imagined. 
 
 Mrs. Streeter's alarm for her husband's safety was 
 
120 
 
 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 great until John, whose services were again secured, 
 made a trip to Dodgeville and brought him across the 
 country to her. Mr. Streeter had discovered their 
 danger, .from meeting a body of soldiers on the second 
 morning after his departure from home. They had 
 accompanied him hastily back to his cabin, only to find 
 it burned down and the premises deserted. He had 
 mourned his wife and child as dead until word was 
 brought by the Winnebago of their rescue and safety. 
 
XIII. 
 
 A DESPERATE ESCAPE. 
 
 The dreadful Indian massacre of '62 depopulated 
 whole counties of newly settled territory in a single day 
 —the 18th of August— and drove from the Minnesota 
 frontiers thousands of people in a few days' time. 
 
 During this eventful period there were many thrilling 
 and desperate adventures and hairbreadth escapes. The 
 local historians who published narratives gathered at 
 haphazard at the time, did all they could to cover the 
 ground of incident. The main facts and causes of the 
 bloody uprising have been compiled and preserved in 
 several volumes published at St. Peter and St. Paul. 
 
 In one of these*, several paragraphs are devoted to 
 the murder of the men in charge of the stores at the 
 isolated trading post on the eastern shore of Big 
 Stone Lake. This account briefly relates the desperate 
 escape of a French and Indian boy, Baptiste or " Bat" 
 Gubeau — as this common name among the Canadian 
 French is frequently abbreviated. 
 
 In the Minnesota massacre it was Little Crow's ruth- 
 less policy to exterminate all the the whites west of the 
 Mississippi. Every one with white blood in his veins 
 who could not or would not take part against the 
 settlers was to be killed. Contrary to the usual rule in 
 Indian wars, the fur-trader, from the very circumstance 
 that he fancied he was safe, fell a swift and easy victim 
 to the rifle and hatchet of the Sioux. 
 
 * Indian Massacre in Minnesota, by C. S. Bryant, pages 150-151. 
 
 121 
 
122 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 All the employes of the four stores and warehouses 
 
 at Big Stone, My rick's, Forbe's, Eobert's, Pratt & Co.'s, 
 were either French hdbitans or half and quarter bloods 
 of that extraction. Among those of mixed blood was 
 the " warehouse boy," Bat Gubeau. 
 
 On the 21st of August four of Eobert's men, Bat and 
 three Canadians, Patnode, Laundre and Pachette, were 
 cutting hay on a marsh near the lake shore below the 
 post. They were at work in their loose shirts and 
 leggins, mowing with scythes, one following the other. 
 Without a second's warning a party of "Blanket" 
 Sioux came up out of the tall grass a few rods distant 
 and began firing upon them. Patnode, Pachette and 
 Laundre, who were ahead of Bat and most exposed to 
 the Indian fire, were killed almost at the first shot. 
 
 Young Gubeau saved his life from their fire by quick- 
 wittedly throwing himself on his face as though shot, 
 lying across the swath and blade of his scythe. 
 
 The Indians scalped his comrades and stripped them 
 of their hats and shoes ; then several of them came to 
 him and turned him over. He knew his captors well, 
 and could understand their language almost as well as 
 the patois of his Canadian parents. 
 
 "Don't kill me," said he. " Why did you shoot those 
 men ? They were always your friends." 
 
 "We killed them," one replied, with black looks, 
 " because all whites and fur men have always cheated 
 and lied to the Indians, and we'll kill you because you 
 are a dog of a mixed blood. We shall kill you when 
 the sun goes down, after a scalp-dance, and after the 
 squaws have burned the Indian blood out of your body 
 with brands from their fires." 
 
INDIAN TALES. 123 
 
 This is, in effect, what the savages said, as near as 
 Baptiste could interpret it in his broken English. 
 
 The speaker was a Wapekuta medicine man, well 
 known at the trading post as a malignant hater of the 
 white men and a constant fomenter of bad-feeling 
 among his own people. 
 
 "While two of the Indians were tying Bat's hands 
 behind him with strips of buckskin, the medicine man 
 began prancing around and telling, in a boastful chant, 
 the murders which had been committed upon the white 
 settlers at the Lower agency, at Beaver Creek and Birch 
 Coolie. He sang boastfully that but two suns more 
 would pass before every white man west of Minnehaha 
 would die. The Sioux nation, possessed of the guns 
 and ammunition taken from the dead settlers and 
 soldiers, could hold its country and beat back the 
 white people always. Then he warmed up and began 
 recounting, after the whooping, sing-song fashion of his 
 kind, the exploits of himself and the others with him. 
 
 The possession of a prisoner who could understand 
 their peculiar chants and the braggings in which they 
 so liked to indulge was unusual good fortune. The 
 vauntings of the medicine man seemed to act upon the 
 savages like the baneful charm some reptiles are said 
 to exercise. One by one they threw aside their weapons 
 and joined the medicine man in his weird leaps and 
 chantings about the prisoner. 
 
 Bat said not a word, but sat quietly, his shrewd eyes 
 watching for a chance to break through the ring and 
 escape. He was strong, lithe, and a swift runner, and 
 a plan of action soon came to him. He felt that it was 
 desperate enough, but it was his only chance. 
 
 A bayou or narrow bay ran up from the lake into 
 
124 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 the marsh upon which he and his companions had been 
 cutting hay, and the head of it was distant not more 
 than a ten minute's run. This strip of water was 
 grown thickly about with rushes, and was from four to 
 six feet deep. 
 
 If be could break away, escape his pursuers' shots 
 and outrun them, he thought he might find a hiding- 
 place among the rushes until night should come on. 
 
 About the time he had canvassed the chances of this 
 plan, the Indians about him had begun to wind up their 
 dancing, with a peculiar gyrating movement known 
 among them as the Moon-Dance. In it the dancers 
 wheel slowly about bow-leggedly, tetering first upon 
 one foot and then upon the other, and swaying the body 
 from the hips in a snake-like movement. The head is 
 rolled in imitation of a lolling bear and the arms are 
 worked writhingly while the wriggling savage sings, in 
 a most lugubrious, grunting tone : " E-yungh, e-yungh ! 
 Hi-yee, hi-yer ! E-yongh, e-yongh ! " 
 
 The prisoner kept his eye upon one of the Indians, 
 whom he knew — for he knew them all well — to be the 
 best runner among them. As this one swung around 
 between himself and the line of retreat he had marked 
 out, Bat sprang up and with an agile jump planted 
 both heels of the army shoes he wore in the " small " 
 of the dancer's back. 
 
 The Indian went down with a screech of pain and 
 surprise, as the keen-witted Canadian passed over him 
 and shot away toward the lake. 
 
 Certain that he had disabled their swiftest runner, 
 Bat felt chiefly concerned for the moment in dodging 
 bullets and arrows. He sprang this way and that at as 
 
INDIAN TALES. 125 
 
 sharp angles as he could, and at the same time make 
 good headway. 
 
 The Indians caught up their guns instantly upon 
 seeing what had happened, but luckily only a few of 
 their arms had been reloaded, and the shots aimed by 
 Indians, breathless with the exertion of a shrieking 
 dance, missed their target. Throwing down their guns, 
 the whole party gave chase, yelling frightfully, as is 
 their fashion. 
 
 Bat glanced backward, and saw then spreading out 
 in pursuit, the swiftest runners heading straight for the 
 bayou on either side. As there was no longer any dan- 
 ger from bullets, the boy put himself down to his 
 utmost speed, and bent his head toward the nearest 
 point of rushes. He was hampered by having~Tiis 
 hands tied behind, and the triumphant yells, which 
 sounded a little louder at each passing minute, caused 
 him to fear greatly that they would overtake him. 
 
 Over mowed ground, through tall grass for several 
 minutes he ran like an antelope. He had gained a 
 number of rods the start of the Indians while they were 
 picking up their guns and firing, and this advantage 
 was what saved his life. He reached the low bank of 
 the inlet in advance of the foremost Sioux, but so near 
 were they that, as he plunged among the rushes, a 
 hatchet thrown by one of them switched past his head 
 and dropped into the water in front. 
 
 He threw himself headlong into the water, and dived 
 amid the rushes. Then he pushed himself along by 
 kicking in the mud at the bottom. When his breath 
 gave out, he raised his head out long enough to get a 
 fresh breath, then ducked it and shoved ahead. 
 
 In this way he was speedily out of sight and reach of 
 
126 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 the Sioux, who did not follow him into the rushes. His 
 pursuers spread out, and hurriedly surrounded the 
 bayou in the hope, no doubt, to catch him in the grass 
 as he attempted to crawl out upon the other side. 
 
 But Bat had no notion of going out of the bayou at 
 present. He found bottom shallow enough to stand 
 upon, and then began working his wrists out of the 
 thongs which bound them. This he was soon able to 
 do, as the water-soaked buckskin stretched at every 
 strain. 
 
 He then waited and listened. Soon he heard Indians 
 talking upon the bank of the bayou opposite his entrance. 
 They were looking for his trail at the edge of the 
 water, and asking each other if he had crossed, and 
 which way he would go. Finally one of them said, 
 " No, Jhe's in there ; the dog will not come out." Then 
 all was quiet. 
 
 Bat would not stir again, for fear he should be dis- 
 covered by the rattling of the rushes. The time wore 
 on heavily. Toward night mosquitoes rose out of the 
 water, and pestered him frightfully. He dared not 
 thresh about, for fear his whereabouts should be dis- 
 covered and fired upon by lurking Indians. "Bullets 
 and buckshot were to be dreaded, even though rushes 
 enough intervened to hide him completely, although 
 the bank was only a few rods distant on either side. 
 
 As the vicious insects alighted upon his face and neck 
 in swarms, he discovered a method of alleviating his 
 sufferings. Every few seconds, as his face became black 
 with them, and their stings began to make him wince, 
 he would quickly and softly lower his head under 
 water, and hold it there as long as he could Jteep his 
 breath. The cool water soothed the irritation of their 
 
INDIAN TALES. 
 
 127 
 
 80011 he heard Indians 
 
128 INDIAJS TALES. 
 
 bites, and gave him refuge from them a good part of 
 the time. 
 
 Darkness came at last, and with it a breeze which 
 rustled the rushes, so that he could stir about without 
 attracting attention by noise. He now speedily made 
 use of his legs and arms in working his way down 
 nearer the lake, where, in a thicket of tall cornstalk 
 grass, he crawled out of the bayou, feeling stiff and 
 water-logged. , 
 
 He lay among the stalks resting and listening for an 
 hour or so, and then, bending low in the grass, made 
 his way to the high land prairie, a mile or more distant. 
 Not daring to attempt to reach Fort Eidgely through 
 the country which he had learned from his captors was 
 overrun by the Sioux, he set out for St. Cloud, nearly 
 two hundred miles distant on the Mississippi. 
 
 He traveled three days and nights, occasionally 
 dodging war parties of Sioux. During that time he 
 lived upon roots and grass; these he chewed and 
 swallowed the juice. At length he walked into the 
 streets of St. Cloud. There was a large gathering 61 
 settlers there, and the buildings, mostly of logs, had 
 been fortified and put in a state of defense. 
 
 There was a crowd of men in front of the first store 
 he reached on entering the village. Faint and 
 exhausted, Bat pushed through them, and asked 
 inside for something to eat. A number of settlers 
 and others immediately came inside, and in rough 
 tones asked him what he, a half-breed — he was a 
 quarter-blood — was doing among the whites. - 
 
 Bat told his story in broken English, but the crowd, 
 incensed at the hundreds of murders committed, and 
 the loss of friends and relatives, were in a frenzied 
 
INDIAN TALES. 129 
 
 state of fury at the sight of one belonging to the race 
 which had committed such ravages. 
 
 " He's a miserable spy ! " shouted one of them. " A 
 sneakin' Sioux, come among us to see how many they 
 is uv us ! Let's hang him ! " 
 
 Beardless, more than naturally swarthy from expos- 
 ure, haggard and ugly in countenance from hunger and 
 fatigue, Bat's appearance was against him. The 
 crowd fiercely took up the cry, " Hang him ! " 
 
 The nearest men sprang forward and secured the 
 unfortunate fellow. His hands were speedily tied 
 with cord ; from the stock of goods a rope was pro- 
 cured, and he was hustled out of the store by the 
 incensed settlers, who declared their intention of 
 stringing him up to the first tree on the river bank. 
 It was useless to plead or struggle, and despairingly the 
 poor exhausted youth allowed himself to be dragged 
 along the street. But a villager, who had the year 
 before lived at Big Stone, pushed into the crowd to 
 have a look at the prisoner, and fortunately recognized 
 Bat at once. 
 
 "Hullo!" he shouted. "Stop this, men! I know 
 that boy. He's one of Robert s men at Bigi Stone." 
 
 This, of course, put an immediate end to the pro- 
 ceedings. An innocent life had nearly been sacrificed 
 to the intense feeling wrought up over the treacher 
 ous and wholesale murders so recently committed by 
 Indians and half-breeds all about them. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to add that the men were 
 sorry enough of their conduct when they learned of 
 Bat's innocence, and that they treated him afterward 
 with all the kindness of which they were capable. 
 
XIV. 
 
 BOYER'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 Prior to 1857, a large tract of lake territory lying 
 between the Upper Des Moines and the Big Sioux 
 Bivers was infested by one of the most villainous bands 
 of Indian outlaws which the Indian policy of the 
 government has ever called into being. It was the 
 band of eleven, led by Inkpaduta — Scarlet Point — who 
 in the winter of '57, massacred a half-hundred settlers 
 in their scattered cabins about Okoboji, Spirit and 
 Pelican Lakes, and carried a number of women into 
 a captivity far worse than death. 
 
 These Indians, disaffected Wapekuta Sioux, had been 
 outlawed from their own tribe for the murder of their 
 chief, Tosagi. They were the pest and terror of 
 settlers in middle and western Iowa from the time 
 that scattering colonies first came in, until their depre- 
 dations and atrocities culminated in the Spirit Lake 
 massacre. On that occasion whole settlements were 
 annihilated, their inhabitants being generally taken by 
 surprise, and killed inside their snowbound cabins. 
 
 Previous to this massacre, which resulted in the 
 capture and punishment of a part of them and the 
 disbanding of the rest, these Indians subsisted by beg- 
 .ging and plundering among the frontier settlements, by 
 hunting and fishing about the Northern lakes, and by 
 a sort of blackmail upon the Wapekutas, whose village 
 was in the pipe-stone region. 
 
 The village of Inkpaduta was on the Upper Des 
 
 130 
 
INDIAN TALES. 131 
 
 Moines, near the Minnesota line., It was more than a 
 hundred miles from any settlement, until the ill-fated 
 squatters of the Spirit Lake tragedy settled about the 
 lakes. There were no troops stationed within a week's 
 march, and the frontier settlements were too weak and 
 scattered to offer organized resistance. 
 
 Occasionally bold trappers, in spite of numerous 
 warnings of the dangers, established and maintained 
 their trapping grounds within the hunting circuit of 
 Inkpaduta's band. Among them was Jake Boyer, a 
 fearless frontiersman, who went among Indians regard- 
 less of danger — one of the sort of adventurers whom, 
 strangely enough, the savages seldom molested. 
 
 Jake knew Inkpaduta and his followers. He visited 
 their village every fall and spring to trade ammunition 
 or trinkets for furs. 
 
 On one of these excursions he carried a double- 
 barreled rifle which he had bought in Dubuque. It 
 was a fine weapon of German pattern, silver-mounted, 
 and had cost him a hundred dollars. The Indians were 
 much taken with this gun, and one of them, Feto 
 Atanka— -Big Face — wanted to swap a pony for it. 
 Boyer told him that nothing less than twenty -five prime 
 mink skins would get the gun ; that when he could 
 produce so many whole skins, smooth and white inside, 
 he would swap. These terms of trade were made 
 known by signs and by the use of such simple English 
 words as the Indians understood. 
 
 A few months later, in autumn, Boyer was visited at 
 his cabin on the Ocheyedan by several of Inkpaduta's 
 band, among them Husan— One Leg, Makpi Opetu, 
 — Fire Cloud, a son of the chief, and Big Face. Boyer 
 found them squatted in front of his dug-out upon the 
 
132 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 side of a bluff, as he came in from a morning round of 
 his traps. They rose as he approached with his rifle 
 across his shoulder. After a friendly round of " How- 
 Hows! " Big Face drew from his blanket a bundle of 
 black-looking skins. " Huh ! " said he. " Me bling um 
 mink, you give um up gun." 
 
 Jake saw at once that the mink were warm-weather 
 skins and worthless. No doubt they were the pelts of 
 all the minks taken or shot by the members of the band 
 during the summer and early fall months, and had been 
 entrusted to Big Face in order that so fine a rifle might 
 belong to one of the band. 
 
 The trapper drew back, and shook his head in 
 refusal to receive the skins. He was about to explain, 
 what they perfectly knew to be true, that the pelts 
 were of no account, when, with a sudden spring, Big 
 Face was upon him. The others instantly sprang for- 
 ward also, and Boyer's rifle was wrenched from him. 
 When he was forced to let go his gun, he dodged 
 quickly into a thicket of bushes which grew up to the 
 door of his habitation. 
 
 The Indians fired several shots after him, but he was 
 not harmed. He reached his canoe, in which he kept 
 a squirrel rifle for shooting muskrat and other small 
 game, 'secured the weapon, and made his escape 
 through the tall grass of the bottom, whither the 
 Indians did not pursue him. 
 
 He made his way to a settlement sixty miles distant, 
 and tried to raise a party to go and hunt Inkpaduta's 
 band, and drive them out of the region ; but he could 
 not find half a dozen men within a circuit of thirty 
 miles who had interest enough in his cause to make it 
 their own. But he found one adventurous fellow, who 
 
INDIAN TALES. 133 
 
 went back with him to his trapping grounds on the 
 Ocheyedan. Upon reaching the dug-out, they found, 
 to their surprise, that its contents had not been dis- 
 turbed. Lying inside the door was the identical pack 
 of worthless mink skins which Big Face had brought 
 to trade for the rifle. The traps were also all in their 
 places. 
 
 Evidently the Indians had been somewhat alarmed 
 after Jake's escape, and wished to leave the impression 
 that they had been dealing in good faith, and had 
 kept to the letter the bargain which had been made 
 for the gun. 
 
 This fact gave Boyer confidence, and he boldly set 
 about his trapping again, determined to watch his 
 opportunity, outwit the Indians, and recover his val- 
 uable rifle. During the next month he busied his 
 brain every day with schemes, and finally hit upon a 
 plan which he determined to carry out at once. 
 
 Leaving his companion in charge of the dug-out and- 
 the trapping, he set out for Fort Dodge with two small 
 ponies packed with the fall catch. At the Fort, which 
 was merely a frontier trading station, he sold his furs, 
 procured ammunition, blankets and some trinkets to 
 trade upon, and set out for Inkpaduta's village, as he 
 had been in the habit of doing at that season of the 
 year. 
 
 In spite of all that had happened, he expected to 
 make the savages believe that he was still friendly to 
 them, and could not afford to lose their fur trade for 
 such trifles as the loss of his rifle and the attempt on 
 his life. He did not believe they would dare injure 
 him again, for they would surely know that he had 
 spread the story of their attack upon him at the settle- 
 
134 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 ments, and his going to them directly from the Fort 
 would naturally make them cautious how they offended 
 him. After getting among them, he hoped to recover 
 his much prized rifle by a stratagem. 
 
 He found only a few old squaws and children at the 
 Des Moines village, but was informed that the bucks 
 were camped at Lost Island Lake, where they had gone 
 to hunt for elk. 
 
 It was but a half-day's ride to the place, and he 
 discovered the tepees of the band as he approached the 
 lake shore at sunset. The most of the Indians had got 
 in from the day's hunt, and, as he rode up, were lying 
 about the fires, waiting for the women to boil some 
 meat for their evening meal. 
 
 They got up and gave some grunts of surprise as he 
 approached, but immediately broke into most cordial 
 " How-How's ! " and grinned in a way that betrayed 
 their pleasure-that he should come among them in so 
 friendly a fashion. He had always dealt more fairly 
 with them than traders were in the habit of doing. 
 
 Big Face, One Leg and Inkpaduta were among those 
 who greeted him. He shook hands with all, telling 
 them he had come to " swap " again, and acted as 
 though nothing had happened. They were immensely 
 pleased, and • one of the young bucks assisted him in 
 unpacking and then picketed his nonies with their 
 own. 
 
 That evening and the next morning were spent in 
 trade ; and for a half-dozen red blankets, some ammu- 
 nition and beads, Jake came into possession of all the 
 beaver, mink and muskrat skins the Indians had. 
 
 After the swap had been completed to the satisfaction 
 of all parties, Jake proposed to Inkpaduta that he and 
 
INDIAN TALES. 135 
 
 a picked number of Ms mea shoisld ride over to his 
 tepee on the Qcheyedan — a little more than a half 
 day's ride— and hunt elk at the head waters of Stony 
 Creek, where he knew that a big herd of them were 
 feeding. 
 
 He had no winter's meat laid in, he told the chief, 
 and since he had traded his large gun to Big Face, he 
 had no rifle that carried a ball large enough to kill an 
 elk. If he would go over with his men and kill him — 
 Jake — two big elk, he would give the chief the smallest 
 pony he had brought with him. 
 
 Inkpaduta was taken with the offer" and evidently 
 took all the trapper had said in sincerity. He consulted 
 his bucks and found them all eager to go, as the white 
 man had described the herd as a big one. 
 
 The camp was hastily struck and the whole party set 
 out for Jake's headquarters, where they arrived that 
 evening and camped for the night. Jake had told 
 Inkpaduta of his partner who, he said, had no gun but 
 an old musket that would only shoot small shot. 
 
 That night, when they were alone in the dug-out, 
 "Jake instructed Williams, his partner, that as soon as 
 the party should have got out of sight, he was to pack 
 what furs he could on the pony left him, cache the rest 
 with the traps, and make haste for the nearest settle- 
 ment on the Little Sioux. 
 
 Next day, at noon, the hunters were camped near 
 the source of the Stony, and scouts were sent out to 
 look for the elk herd, which was sighted before night. 
 
 A plan of the hunt was determined on before they 
 slept, and as Jake was consulted, he so managed that 
 he was to be of the party. They were to go in 
 three squads, enclosing the band in a triangle, in 
 
J2MS INDIAN TALES. 
 
 which rode Big Face with Inkpaduta' and one of the 
 chief's sons, Roaring Cloud, or Makpeahotoman. 
 
 Big Face had made no attempt to conceal the rifle, 
 which was still in his possession; in fact he had car- 
 ried it with a good deal of flourish and display, evi- 
 dently proud of owning such a piece of property. 
 
 Before daylight next morning the hunting parties 
 were mounted, and circling the region where the elk 
 had been seen. There was a keen wind blowing from 
 the northwest, and as the elk were in that direction 
 the herd was surrounded without difficulty': Two par- 
 ties converged, one from the north, another from the 
 west, and the third, in which was Jake, moVed slowly 
 forward from the southeast. 
 
 It was the plan that the herd should be driven 
 toward this last party, who were to rush in upon their 
 front and turn them about. This would bring the 
 whole hunting party upon them. 
 
 In one respect the plan was perfect. At about sun- 
 rise the big drove was seen by Inkpaduta's party, and 
 Boyer observed, with no little satisfaction, that the elk 
 were coming directly toward him. 
 
 They came right on without seeming to see the 
 hunters, who had spread a little and lay close along 
 the backs of their ponies. 
 
 There were more than two hundred elk, and Boyer 
 said it was a splendid sight to see them come on, the 
 bulls in the lead ; " an acre of branchin' horns ", as he 
 expressed it, " movin' down swift like the front of the 
 wind in a blizzard." 
 
 When the foremost .elk were within gunshot, the 
 Indians straightened up and with loud yells dashed 
 their ponies at the face of the herd. But instead of 
 
INDIAN TALES. 137 
 
 turning, the whole bunch spread out like a fan and 
 went by like a shot, scattering continually as they sped 
 on. 
 
 The Indians whirled their ponies and gave chase, 
 having fired several ineffective shots, and as each selec- 
 ted his game the manoeuvre drew them rapidly apart. 
 This was precisely what Boyer had hoped for, and he 
 followed Big Face, keeping him all the time in view. 
 The Indian soon overtook a fat cow-elk, whose calf got 
 in her way and impeded her progress. Big Face rodar 
 alongside, shoved the muzzle of his gun almost against 
 the cow's side, and killed her instantly. 
 
 He had fired one barrel before, and with a whoop he 
 now circled his pony about, sprang to the ground and 
 stood over the dead elk, evidently satisfied with his 
 morning's work. 
 
 This was not what Boyer wanted at all, for there 
 were still other Indians in sight. In fact, nearly the 
 whole party was by this time racing along in pur- 
 suit of the herd. 
 
 But, knowing that he had not a moment to spare if 
 he would allay suspicion and catch Big Face with 
 unloaded gun, he drew up alongside. Quickly dis- 
 mounting, he stepped in front of the Indian and 
 covered him with the light rifle, which he had not 
 unloaded. 
 
 " Give me my gun or I'll shoot, " said the trapper, 
 sharply. 
 
 Big Face saw that he was tricked, and that Boyer 
 had the best of him. Like all of his kind he was a 
 coward at heart, and with a sickly grin of fear he laid 
 the ill-gotten rifle against the elk's body and stepped 
 back. 
 
138 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 " Now, let go that pony and walk off ? " commanded 
 Jake, with a meaning gesture. The Indian obeyed and 
 hurried away toward the retreating elk at a pace the 
 meaning of which Boyer knew well. 
 
 Jake's first move was hastily to load his recovered 
 rifle with heavy charges, having kept balls in his 
 pockets that would fit the bore. Then fastening his 
 small rifle to the saddle of the pony he had ridden, and 
 tying that animal to-the lariat dragging at the neck of 
 Big Face's pony, he mounted the Indian's horse, turned 
 and rode northeast toward the Minnesota settlements, 
 which were then the nearest white habitations. 
 
 Just as he started, he looked back over his shoulder 
 and saw Big Face making frantic gestures from the 
 top of a knoll about a hundred rods away. But the 
 whole party, elk and all, had passed out of sight into 
 the valley of the Stony, and the last that Jake ever 
 saw of the band, as he spurred his pony in the opposite 
 direction, was the outwitted Big Face waving his 
 arms. 
 
 It was a daring stratagem which had secured him his 
 rifle and a " pony for damage," and one which a man 
 less hardy and keen-witted would never have planned, 
 and certainly could not have succeeded in carrying 
 out. 
 
 Inkpaduta and his men evidently gave the big elk 
 herd a long chase, without any notion of what had 
 happened in their rear. If any of them had seen Big 
 Face and Boyer near the dead elk, they must have 
 thought the white man had stopped only to take 
 aharge of his game. At any rate they did not overtake 
 Jake, who pushed rapidly on to Lake Shetek, where at 
 a settlement he was safe from Indian assault. 
 
INDIAN TALES. 139 
 
 - Later, he joined Williams at Fort Dodge, having 
 passed through Inkpaduta's country in the night. 
 After that he trapped west of the Big Sioux, as he 
 considered the lake region " unhealthy " for him. 
 
HOW HE GOT IT. 
 
 " Jorgensen, can you bring me down, on your next 
 trip, a piece of pif) e-stone big enough for the top to a 
 center-table % " 
 
 This request, which looks and sounds plain and 
 innocent enough, was addressed, some twenty years 
 ago, by a St. Louis merchant to a Danish fur-buyer, 
 with whom he dealt, buying of him, every few months, 
 a boat load of peltries, brought down from the upper 
 Missouri country. 
 
 The Dane, Odolph Jorgensen, a short, thick-set, blue- 
 eyed fellow, wearing a fierce, stiff mustache, stood in 
 front of the merchant's counter, stowing in his wallet 
 the drafts just received for his last boat load of furs. 
 
 He looked up at the questioner with a shrewd 
 twinkle in his blue eyes. 
 
 " Taas, for two tousant dollars," he answered, lacon- 
 ically. 
 
 The merchant stared. 
 
 « Why, man, it aint such a fearful undertaking !" he 
 put in, with a good deal of astonishment. 
 
 " Yaas," said the Dane; " it's vort that, efry saint." 
 
 " All right!" returned the merchant— he was wealthy. 
 "I'll give you two thousand dollars for a piece of pipe- 
 stone, regular in shape, three feet by five, and two 
 inches thick or more." 
 
 " I pring ut down een Nofaimber," answered Jorgen- 
 sen, and that ended the conversation. 
 
 14Q 
 
INDIAN TALES. 141 
 
 Odolph knew that he would risk much, his life even, 
 in executing such a commission ; but he had grown 
 hardy in five years of fur-buying in the Indian country. 
 Yet if he could have known all the danger involved in 
 entering upon the " Neutral Ground, " and carrying off 
 a block of the sacred pipe-stone, he probably would not 
 have taken the risk. 
 
 As it was, he determined to go about it at once, and 
 in the only way he approved of doing business — an 
 honorable one. He had no right to take even a pebble 
 from the sacred ground of the Indians without their 
 consent, and that could only be obtained at a heavj^ 
 cost, and at no small danger of treachery. 
 
 Nevertheless, he put his barge in tow of a steamer, 
 — he shipped his peltries down in a flat-boat on his own 
 account, — and with his assistant, Hans Obermann, 
 boarded his boat and went up the river to Yankton, 
 his headquarters; and from there, leaving Hans in 
 charge of his affairs, he took a horse and rode straight 
 for Yankton Agency, some sixty miles farther up the 
 river. 
 
 On arriving, he went to the tepee of a Yanktonais 
 chief, whom he knew, and who could speak English 
 brokenly, and, after much preliminary talk, told the 
 Indian what he wanted, and offered the chief one hun- 
 dred dollars to go with him to the pipe-stone country 
 and help him get a block of stone. 
 
 The chief listened in sullen surprise at first, — they 
 are all extremely jealous of allowing white men access 
 to the pipe-stone quarries, even as visitors, — but at 
 length the promise of so great a sum of money began 
 to have its effect, and he finally agreed that if " Odolph " 
 —as Jorgensen was known to him — would give him 
 
142 INDIAN TALKS. 
 
 one hundred dollars, the pony he had ridden up there, 
 two new blankets and five pounds of tobacco, and 
 would keep the matter perfectly secret, he, the chief, 
 would go and help him get the pipe-stone. 
 
 After much higgling, Jorgensen agreed, and the 
 chief, Niche Kotonka (Bad Buffalo), mounting one of 
 his ponies, after a consultation with some of his " bucks, " 
 set out with the Dane on the return trip to Yankton. 
 From this point Jorgensen, accompanied by Obermann 
 and Bad Buffalo, who joined them two miles out on his 
 pony, drove north in his wagon to the Pipe-Stone 
 Kegion. They reached Pipe-Stone Creek, at the foot 
 of the quarries, one beautiful evening just before sun- 
 set. 
 
 After camping and eating supper, the Indian 
 mounted his pony, and told Odolph that he must go up 
 the stream to where the spirits of two women dwelt in 
 the rocks, and " make medicine " to them before they 
 could touch the stone. He cautioned both the Danes 
 not to lay so much as a finger, or look upon a piece of 
 it until he had returned. 
 
 Jorgensen knew of this superstition, and, humoring 
 the Yankton's caution, he and Hans lay upon the grass 
 and smoked their pipes until Niche Kotonka came 
 back. It was then dark, and all three rolled their 
 blankets about them and slept till morning. 
 
 After breakfast the next morning they hitched their, 
 horses to the wagon, and the Yankton led the way to 
 a quarry where the stone, in thin strata, cropped out 
 on the side of a shallow ravine. 
 
 This famous pipe-stone underlies but a small strip of 
 territory along the creek which goes by this name, and 
 is found cropping out in numerous small ravines and 
 
INDIAN TALES. 143 
 
 gullies; and in these places, where it is easiest of access, 
 the Indians go to procure it. 
 
 As they only get small pieces for pipes, and various 
 little ornaments which they fashion with knives and 
 other instruments, and polish by rubbing, there has, of 
 r course, been no very great diminution of quantity at 
 the quarries. It is now well-known that this peculiar 
 soft rock is susceptible of a very high polish, much 
 more mirror-like and beautiful than that which can be 
 put upon the finest of dark marbles. 
 
 It was the extreme beauty of this polish upon Indian 
 ornaments, and the knowledge that, owing to the jeal- 
 ous guardianship of the Indians, there would be con- 
 siderable difficulty in obtaining so large a piecfe of the 
 rock, that had induced the St. Louis merchant to offer 
 Jorgensen a large sum for a block of table-top size. 
 
 But thus far all had gone famously in the enterprise. 
 The stone was found easy of access at the quarry to 
 which Bad Buffalo led them. And, with the help of a 
 sledge-hammer and crow-bar,Odolphand Hans soon suc- 
 ceeded in breaking into proper shape and dimensions a 
 fine block of mottled stone, varying in color from light 
 pink to the deepest ruby red. The most common color 
 is a dark red, or nearly ie liver color." 
 
 The Indian then demanded and received the one 
 hundred dollars, which Jorgensen had agreed to pay 
 him before starting upon the return. The other prop- 
 erty was to be turned over at Yankton. After this 
 had been done, they set out upon their way back. 
 The chief, by agreement, was to accompany them all 
 the way, as a safeguard, should any party of Sioux 
 accidentally discover their trail and the object of their 
 trip, or come upon them with any hostile intent — 
 
144 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 something which any white traveler might expect in 
 those regions at that time. 
 
 That night they camped on the east bank of the 
 Big Sioux, at the crossing, or ford, of an old military 
 trail, one they had followed for some distance in 
 coming out of Yankton. The next morning, when 
 Odolph and Hans awoke, the chief was gone. Odolph 
 had left him on guard at two o'clock — they had kept 
 guard by relief — and the rascal had stolen out to his 
 pony, mounted and ridden away. He had taken 
 nothing, however, not belonging to him, having 
 refrained, probably, with the hope of leaving behind 
 an impression of honesty and fair dealing. 
 
 Jorgensen suspected treachery immediately. He 
 remembered with alarm the consultation with the 
 braves at the Agency, of which he — and the chief 
 knew it — understood not a word; also the strict 
 injunction of secrecy which Bad Buffalo had laid upon 
 him, and the now doubly alarming and significant fact 
 that the chief had not entered the town of Yankton 
 at all, but had stopped all night with a half-breed 
 some miles above, and had contrived to join Hans and 
 himself the next morning upon the prairie where there 
 would be no witnesses. 
 
 All that had seemed natural enough at the time, 
 knowing, as the fur-trader did, the peculiar character- 
 istics of the Indian. 
 
 Now, however, the thought came to him with start- 
 ling significance that no white man had seen the Indian 
 in their company at all. 
 
 Odolph felt sorely chagrined at his short-sighted 
 confidence, and told his fears briefly to Hans. 
 
 " We must put that stone in the river," said he, " and 
 
INDIAN TALES. 145 
 
 get out of this country by some other way than we 
 came, and we must do it soon. " 
 
 Hans was badly frightened, but he obeyed commands 
 with his usual sturdy faithfulness, and in a short time 
 the two had crossed the river in their wagon, having 
 dumped out the precious stone into four feet of water, 
 and were driving hurriedly down the valley on the 
 west side. They pushed on this way for several hours 
 along the valley and across the _ points of numerous 
 bluffs that pushed out into it, and then halted in the 
 mouth of a deep ravine, where they determined to 
 lie in wait until dark, and then drive straight— or as 
 straight as possible — across the prairie for Yankton. 
 
 Odolph reasoned that if they could reach that point 
 without being seen by Indians — for he firmly believed 
 that a party of Bad Buffalo's bucks were lying in wait 
 for them along the military road — the chief would con- 
 clude that he had dodged them and got safe through 
 with the pipe-stone, and they could very safely go back 
 in time and get it. On the other hand, if, as was more 
 than likely, they were caught, the rascals could have no 
 cause for picking a quarrel. 
 
 The sequel proved his surmises correct, but, as will 
 be seen, his tactics availed him little as a means of 
 preventing trouble. 
 
 After halting in the ravme, the Danes picketed 
 their horses upon the side-hill, ate a cold lunch of raw 
 bacon and crackers, and then threw themselves upon 
 the grass, with their carbines beside them, to wait the 
 coming of night or whatever of adventure the after- 
 noon might bring them. 
 
 They had not a great while to wait for an adventure 
 most unwelcome in its nature. 
 
146 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 They had lain an hour or two, and Odolph was 
 stretched upon his back with half-closed eyes, when 
 Hans suddenly sprang up and exclaimed in frightened 
 tones : " Min Gud, Odolph ! De komme at drcehe os! " 
 (They are coming to kill us.) 
 
 Odolph sprang to his feet in time to see appear upon 
 the ridge the last one of a squad of Indian horsemen 
 who had come over the northern bluff and were 
 ambling down toward them. 
 
 There were eighteen or twenty of them, all bucks, 
 and armed to a man with carbine and musket. 
 
 " Those fellows mean mischief, Hans, sure enough," 
 said Jorgensen, speaking in their native tongue. " Stand 
 back here away from the wagon, a little behind me, 
 and do as you see me do," and throwing his carbine 
 carelessly across his left arm, the fur-buyer awaited the 
 Indians' approach with ail the careless assurance he 
 could assume. 
 
 As the squad drew near, Odolph and his frightened 
 companion saw that the faces of all of them were 
 hideously bedaubed with glaring paints, green, black, 
 yellow and vermilion. 
 
 They were scattered out in single file before reaching 
 the bottom of the ravine, and the leader — a chief if 
 Odolph could judge from his toggery— rode directly to 
 the wagon, without so much as deigning to notice the 
 white men, leaned forward upon his pony's neck, and 
 peered scowlingly into the box. 
 
 He looked earnestly for a moment, and then, uttering 
 an angry grunt, glowered savagely at Odolph, who 
 looked him shrewdly and keenly in the eyes and said 
 " How ! " as pleasantly as he could. 
 
 But the Indian was in a bad humor, and without 
 
INDIJtit TALES. 147 
 
 replying to this civil salute, he turned to several of his 
 repulsive-looking bucks who had now ridden up and 
 gave a few guttural words of command. 
 
 A half-dozen or more of them instantly sprang from 
 their ponies and giving the lariats in charge of others, 
 speedily pulled the blankets, "grub-box" and other 
 Contents out of the wagon, gave the blankets to the 
 chief — there were only two rolled together in a bundle 
 — then, with their hatchets, they fell upon the wagon- 
 box and began hacking it in pieces. While they were 
 doing this two of the mounted Indians rode out, pulled 
 the picket-pins and led Odolph's horses away up the 
 ravine. 
 
 Jorgensen and his man stood looking helplessly on, 
 well-knowing, in fact, that they must do nothing else 
 if they would save their lives. 
 
 The angry Indians soon demolished the wagon, 
 chopping the "reach" in the centre and piling the 
 wheels and fragments of the box in a heap together. 
 They then scratched matches — of which they seemed 
 to have a good supply — and lighted splinters in sev- 
 eral places at the bottom, and in a few moments the 
 whole heap was enveloped in flames. They stood back 
 and laughed as the blaze crackled about the wreck, and 
 maliciously eyed the two Danes as though they wished 
 they might dare to fling them also into the burning 
 mass. 
 
 However, they made no hostile demonstration then 
 — owing, no doubt, to the fact that the two white men 
 stood with the muzzles of their carbines pointed toward 
 them — but after making sure the fire had made too 
 great headway to be put out, the dismounted ones got 
 
148 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 on their ponies and the whole party rode off up the 
 ravine. 
 
 " Now," said Odolph, as the last Sioux disappeared 
 over the summit, " we must run for it, Hans. We 
 must make the river and get across at once, or we'll 
 never get out of this hollow alive." 
 
 They did run as swiftly as their short Danish legs 
 would carry them. 
 
 The river was not more than two hundred yards dis- 
 tant, but even as they reached the bank they heard the 
 clatter of horse-hoofs upon the bluff above. Looking 
 back, Odolph saw that the whole troop were riding 
 along the ridge at a headlong gallop and evidently 
 making ready to fire upon them. 
 
 u Into the river, Hans !"he sh6uted, and they plunged 
 in. The bank was sloping and there was no shelter 
 unless they could reach the timber which grew upon 
 the other side. 
 
 The water came up to their armpits, and, holding 
 their carbines above their heads, they pushed through 
 the current at a rate that made it boil behind them. 
 
 They had not more than reached the middle when 
 the Indians drew up on the crest of the bluff above and 
 began firing down upon them. The bullets pattered 
 "chook ! chook! " close about their shoulders. 
 
 "Down, Hans! down to your nose!" shouted the 
 ready-witted fur-buyer, and sinking down until only 
 the tops of their heads and the muzzles of their carbines 
 protruded above the surface, the imperiled Danes 
 scooted through the water like hunted deer. 
 
 The moving heads presented small marks at that 
 distance, and some of the Indians dismounted and 
 came bounding down the steep side of the bluff to get 
 
INDIAN TALES. 149 
 
 a close shot as the white men came up on the opposite 
 hank. 
 
 But Odolph understood this game also, and heading 
 down stream — he was in the lead, for Hans faithfully 
 followed in every move — he made for a big fallen tree 
 that leaned out from the bank and had formed a sort 
 of boom for the lodgment of a mass of drift-stuff. 
 Behind that they would be' safe. 
 
 The Indians saw this move and with yells of disap- 
 pointment halted, fired a few ineffective shots and 
 then hustled back to get out of range of the carbines 
 which they well knew were loaded with waterproof 
 cartridges and would be turned upon them in a moment 
 from behind the drift. The whole party then hur- 
 riedly withdrew out of sight. 
 
 Odolph and Hans, who had both reached the shelter 
 of the drift, now crawled up the bank and walked out 
 among the trees to where they could safely pull off 
 their dripping clothes and wring the water from them. 
 Here they stayed, on the watch, until dark, when, 
 having seen no signs of the Indians prowling about, 
 they set out in the direction of a Norse settlement, 
 which they knew to have been made some twenty-four 
 miles to the southeast, near the head of the Floyd 
 river. 
 
 They reached the sod shanty of a Norwegian just 
 after daylight the next morning, and were hospitably 
 received. They related their adventure, and a few 
 days afterward, securing the services of an ox-team 
 and two of the settlers to go with them, they made a 
 second and successful journey after the pipe-stone. 
 
 It was brought back to the settlement and subse- 
 
180 INDIAN TALES. 
 
 quently taken to Sioux City and shipped to St. Louis 
 on the first downward-bound steamer. 
 
 It is needless to say that JViche Kotonlca never put 
 in an appearance at Yankton, and in fact, though 
 Odolph had occasion several times afterward to pass 
 through the " Agency," he never could succeed in 
 getting a sight of the treacherous chief. 
 
 The pipe-stone was received by the St. Louis mer- 
 chant and paid for. It made a beautiful table-top, 
 and yet remains in possession of the family. It is 
 greatly admired by guests, not only for the exquisite 
 polish of its mottled surface, but also as a witness of 
 the Danish fur-buyer's determined fulfillment of a 
 perilous contract. 
 
 ^| 
 
Frontier Sketches 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK W, CALKINS 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 I A Piece of Frontier Strategy 5 
 
 II. The Mystery of the TN Brand 18 
 
 III. Corson's Wife 38 
 
 IV. The " Moaning Rock " at Bogey's Bend ;....... 40 
 
 V. Mortimer Halleck's Adventure 64 
 
 VI. The Mystery of the Valley s . ..i..... 64 
 
 VII. Followed 72 
 
 VIII. Olaf Helgerson's Pay 83 
 
 IX. A Wild Night-Ride. ... m 
 
 X. Carlen and his Comet .... 105 
 
 XI. Caught in a Blizzard 115 
 
 XII. A Fortunate Cyclone 125 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 i. 
 
 A PIECE OP FRONTIER STRATEGY. 
 
 In the early days of the settlement of "Wisconsin 
 there were neither land surveys nor government laws 
 by which lands could be held with perfect security by 
 the settlers. There was, however, in most counties an 
 unwritten law, much like that which governs claim- 
 taking" in mining districts, and which generally pro- 
 tected the claimant who complied with its requirements. 
 These requirements which were adopted in nearly all 
 the new communities as " neighborhood by-laws," and 
 in most of them strictly enforced against all persons 
 who tried to violate them, were usually something like 
 the following : 
 
 The claimant, if he were of age or the head of a 
 family, was entitled to one hundred and sixty acres of 
 timber land and the same amount of prairie land, which 
 he must first locate, and then proceed to measure by 
 " stepping it off." 
 
 There was usually some one in every organized town- 
 ship who was regarded as an expert in measuring land. 
 Eight hundred and eighty steps of three feet each 
 along the four sides of a square, beginning at a given 
 landmark and returning to it, were allowed as a quarter- 
 section. 
 
 The corners were established on the prairie by marked 
 
 6 
 
8 FRONTIER SKETCHES* 
 
 stakes, and in timber by blazing trees and carving the 
 taker's name or initials upon them. Then within a 
 reasonable time, say three months — the time was not 
 definitely fixed — the squatter must build a cabin and 
 move his family, if he had one, his effects if he had not, 
 into it, and there make his home until the land should 
 be surveyed and " come into market," when, by appear- 
 ing either himself or in the person of the " township 
 bidder," at the regular "land sale" for his district, 
 bidding the minimum price, one dollar and a quarter an 
 acre, and paying the money to the registrar of the land- 
 office, he received a government patent which made his 
 claim valid and final. 
 
 It was not well for an interloper to attempt to jump 
 one, of these claims, or to bid more than the minimum 
 price above a claimant who had complied with the by- 
 laws of his district. 
 
 Generally, as I have said, the squatter, who com- 
 plied with these " right of discovery " land laws, was 
 safe enough to hold his claim, and if he had not the 
 ready money saved to pay for it at the land sale, he 
 could easily borrow it of money-lenders in his district. 
 But sometimes there were disputes, in which whole 
 neighborhoods took sides, and occasionally a squatter's 
 claim was the scene of an affray in which blood was shed. 
 
 Two young men, Jacob and Jared Stebbins, who 
 lived in the region between Blue Mounds and the 
 Wisconsin, very early in the history of that country, 
 belonged to the pioneer class above mentioned. Their 
 father had moved up there from Galena some time 
 before the Black Hawk troubles, and, though they were 
 but lads of sixteen and seventeen, they had taken part 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 7 
 
 in the defense of Mound Fort, and in the battle of 
 Wisconsin Heights. 
 
 As they grew up and Jake came of age, they became 
 ambitious to have land of their own. They had helped 
 clear grub, break up, fence and cultivate one hundred 
 acres of land on their father's "patent" in Mound 
 Creek Valley, and now it was high time to begin for 
 themselves. 
 
 Up to this period the broad "Wisconsin, unfordable 
 except in the driest seasons, had acted as a check to 
 the tide of Northern and Western settlement in their 
 district. There was much choice land upon the other 
 side, and some two years before Jake was twenty-one 
 the boys had been across the river hunting, and had 
 staked and blazed claims for themselves — two " quart- 
 ers" — upon one of which they had subsequently 
 erected a snug log cabin, which they had covered with 
 boards of their own make. 
 
 They spent the greater part of two winters in this 
 cabin, hunting and splitting rails during the short 
 days, and during the spring, summer and autumn 
 while working on their father's place, they watched 
 jealously for any movement toward a settlement on 
 the " other side. " 
 
 The winter before Jake came of age several other 
 claims were taken, above their own, on the west side 
 of the river, on Sac Prairie, one of the most fertile 
 prairies of the state. The boys now determined to 
 move over finally so soon as they should gather the 
 spring crops upon their father's place. 
 
 In March, upon going home from their claim, they 
 left their cooking utensils and other belongings inside 
 the cabin, and closed the door and window by nailing 
 
8. FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 some heavy strips across them. It was not until May, 
 after corn planting, that they moved across the river. 
 They swam over two yoke of steers, their breaking 
 team, and rafted across their wagon, ploughs and some 
 other effects. It took them nearly all day to cross, 
 and it was late in the evening when they reached their 
 cabin. 
 
 The cabin had been built in the edge of the valley 
 timber, and they had cleared a space around it. As 
 they drove out into this open space, they were sur- 
 prised by the yelping of a dog, which came rushing 
 toward them, and flew at the faces of the steers, so 
 that they halted and lowered their horns to fight off 
 the brute. Jared ran forward and drove the animal 
 away with his whip, giving it a cut which sent it back 
 to the cabin. 
 
 " Somebody's here ? " said he. 
 
 Jared went forward. The dog snarled at him from 
 under the covered wagon as he approached. As he 
 came up to the cabin, he saw that the boards had been 
 ripped from the door 3 and that a light was shining 
 through a crack. 
 
 " Hallo, thar ! " he called, standing close to the door. 
 
 There was a moment of waiting, a murmur of voices 
 inside ; then the door swung inward, and the tall, gaunt 
 figure of a middle-aged woman stood in the open space. 
 
 " "Who be ye ? " she inquired, gruffly. 
 
 " I'm one of the owners of this claim," said Jared, 
 " an' wo'd like ter shar' the cabin with ye till we c'n 
 get some supper." 
 
 " Wal' ye can't come in hyer!" said the woman ; 
 coolly. "This hyer claim an' this hyer cabin b'longs 
 
PKONTIBE SKETCHES. 
 
 " Who be ye ? " she inquired, gruffly.— Page 8. 
 
10 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 ter us ? " and she stepped back to shut the door in his 
 face. 
 
 Jared was hot-blooded and was naturally angry at 
 this turn of events. He sprang towards the closing 
 door, and threw all his weight against it. The woman 
 was large and strong enough to have offered stout 
 resistance, but she was taken by surprise ; the door 
 flew out of her grasp, back upon its hinges, and Jared 
 was propelled against her with a force that made her 
 stagger half-way across the room. 
 
 Jared had gained admission, but found himself 
 facing two big, bony men, who had arisen from their 
 stools before the fire-place as he burst the door in. 
 
 They sprang at him, knocked him over, sat on him — 
 one on his shoulders and the other on his legs — and 
 then, with buckskin straps, proceeded to bind him 
 hand and foot. 
 
 Jared struggled for a moment, and then, finding it 
 useless, gave it up. He was soon relieved of the weight 
 of his captors, but lay helplessly bound upon the floor. 
 
 All this had happened so quickly that when Jake, 
 who had heard the scuffle, had tied the steers ami come 
 cautiously up to the door, gun in hand, he found him- 
 self confronted by the muzzles of two rifles, which 
 protruded through a crack which had been made by 
 removing a board from the nearest window. 
 
 '-'Drop that gun! " came from within the cabin. 
 
 But instead of dropping his weapon, the quick-witted 
 young settler sprang to one side, and ran behind the 
 wagon, under which the belligerent dog was still bark- 
 ing. Then he called to his brother : 
 
 " Say, Jerd, have they hurt ye ? " 
 
fBONTIBB SKETCHES. 4.1 
 
 Jared shouted back that they hadn't, but that twc 
 men had tied him hand and foot. 
 
 Jake picked up a club and threw it at the dog to drive 
 it away ; then he called to the men to know what they 
 meant by such outrageous acts. One of them — the old 
 man — answered back that they had taken up a man for 
 assault and battery, and meant only to protect them- 
 selves and their rights. 
 
 Jake told them they had no business inside the cabin, 
 which belonged to himself and his brother ; that this 
 claim had been made and held for two years, and 
 that they were liable to prosecution for assault on his 
 brother. 
 
 The elder man answered back that he and his son 
 had found an old trapper living in the^cabin ; that they 
 had bought his right to it, and laid claim to the land, 
 and, what was more, they should hold it against all 
 comers. It was also stated that a colony of settlers 
 from Illinois had come in some three weeks before, hav- 
 ing crossed the river at " The Portage," and squatted 
 along on that side ; that a general meeting had already 
 been held, and the usual regulations adopted, and that 
 the speaker inside the cabin had been chosen constable 
 until a regular election was held. 
 
 The young fellow was astounded and chagrined at this 
 intelligence. The situation was puzzling enough, for 
 he saw that these claim-jumpers had greatly the advan- 
 tage over him. He and Jared could really prove nothing ; 
 not a settler on the other side whom they knew had 
 ever visited them here or knew of the location of their 
 claim except by heresay. Their only callers had been 
 two or three stray trappers- and an occasional Winne- 
 
12 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 bago Indian who had at various times spent a night 
 
 with them. 
 
 It was one of those trappers, a rascally-looking fel- 
 low whom he remembered he had disliked, who had 
 pretended to sell this claim to the present occupants — 
 and there was a whole neighborhood to stand by them 
 in possession. 
 
 The situation was discouraging even if Jared had 
 not — according to the code of the region — been lawfully 
 arrested for an assault. Jake went out near his own 
 wagon and sat down on a stump to think. 
 
 The night was not dark; the moon was shining 
 faintly and a light wind was moving the tree tops, and 
 as Jake sat with his face between his hands in a brown 
 study, the figure of a person came across his range of 
 vision. A boy emerged-f rom the woods a short distance 
 west qf the cabin and came toward him. As he 
 approached the dog ran out and began leaping upon 
 him. 
 
 "Hullo, mister! w'at ye doin' out hyer?" The 
 voice was that of a lad of fourteen or fifteen. 
 
 Jake answered, warily, that " he'd jes' druv up a bit 
 ago, an' was wonderin' where thar might be some 
 water fer the oxen. " He added that he thought it 
 rather late to wake people up to find out — there was 
 no light that could be seen from the cabin. 
 
 " Oh, I'll show ye, " said the boy. A It's 'bout forty 
 rod, though, the way ye'll hev ter drive t' git down ter 
 the crick." 
 
 "That don't make any differ'nce — the distance," 
 said Jake. " I want to camp by water, " — which was 
 true enough, as matters had turned out. 
 
 Thereupon he untied his oxen, turned his wagon 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 13 
 
 about ana drove after the boy, who led him back very 
 nearly over the way he had come. Jake, looking back 
 as they entered the timber-line, saw the cabin door 
 swing open, and some one come out and look after 
 them. Bat fortunately the boy was straight ahead 
 and could not be seen, and the man, who had probably 
 come out to see what was going on upon hearing the 
 wagon rattle, turned again and entered the cabin. 
 
 It was fifteen minutes' drive down to the creek, by 
 the nearest approach for a wagon, but, as Jake well 
 knew, the stream could be approached on the opposite 
 side of the cabin, which was situated in a bend of it, 
 by a very short cut through thick, brush. It was from 
 that quarter, in fact, that he and Jared had brought 
 their water for cooking purposes. 
 
 However, it just suited a plan which had flashed 
 upon him that the boy should be at the pains of select- 
 ing for him the best camping-place — it got them out 
 of sight and hearing of the cabin. 
 
 Jake walked well up by the steers and talked to the 
 boy as they went forward and learned, as he had 
 ^expected, that the lad was the son of the man who had. 
 jumped his claim. The boy said he had gone over to 
 a neighbor's who had just moved into a new log-house 
 one mile west and was to have stayed all night, but 
 finding that a number of land-seekers had claimed the 
 neighbor's hospitality, he had spent the evening at 
 play with their boys and returned. He said his 
 father's name was Burrel. 
 
 They reached the creek, and Jake, having quickly 
 matured a plan of action, stopped his oxen and while 
 untying a long, slender lead-rope from the horns of 
 
ift rseoirnEF sketgbz&, 
 
 the "near* 5 steer at the head of the team, kept the boy 
 near his side by talking to him. 
 
 When he had secured the rope, however, he turned, 
 flung an arm around his listener, and with a quick trip 
 threw him to the ground. The boy struggled and 
 screamed with fear and anger, but Jake quieted him 
 with a stern command and then, holding him fast, 
 told him just what had happened at the cabin, 
 and also gave him a truthful account of his own and 
 his brother's labor in making the claim, which had been 
 jumped regardless of their rights. 
 
 " An' now, youngster, I'm goin' ter tie ye up, an' 
 bring yer ole dad ter terms, an' the more ye cut up the 
 wuss it'll be for ye." 
 
 The boy evidently believed his story and saw both 
 the point and the justice of the case, for he sullenly 
 submitted, gritting out between his teeth that " Dad 
 'n' Bob '11 get ev'n with ye fur this." 
 
 Jake tied his prisoner securely, unhitched his oxen and 
 turned them loose, with the yokes on, to graze, and 
 then, getting some quilts out of the wagon, made a bed 
 under it, picked up the captive and laid him upon it. 
 He then ate a cold bite of bread and meat, and taking 
 his rifle went slowly back to the cabin. 
 
 When he arrived there he again seated himself upon 
 a stump and gave his mind to thought. He had gained 
 one advantage, at least, he could exchange prisoners 
 and get his brother free, which had been his object in 
 so roughly treating the boy, but could he do anything 
 more % 
 
 letermined to try. Accordingly he got up and 
 
 tly behind the covered wagon where he. had 
 
 •ore — the dog seemed to have exhausted its 
 
animosity or else it had followed the wagon and gone 
 
 rabbit-hunting. 
 
 Jake now shouted loudly at the cabin 
 
 " Ho, Burrel ! Barrel, I say ! " 
 
 There was a movement inside, a light shone through 
 a craclr and an angry voice— the old man's again 
 —replied : " Wall, what ye yawpin' 'bout now ? " 
 
 Jake briefly related the story of the boy's capture, 
 only being interrupted every few seconds by ejacula- 
 tions of wrath and chagrin' from his auditors, or at 
 least from two of them. Jared was listening also, and 
 Jake heard him give a shout and a hearty laugh of 
 triumph at the conclusion. 
 
 For a moment there was confusion inside the cabin, 
 and a gabble of excited discussion, then the door 
 opened cautiously, and Jake heard somebody— evi- 
 dently a woman— crying piteously. 
 
 "Oh, they'll kill'im! they'll kill my babby!" she 
 moaned. 
 
 " Shet up ! " said one of the men, roughly. 
 
 " Say, mister ! " he called, poking his head out of a 
 crack in the doorway. 
 
 "Now, look hyer!" called Jake, sharply, "none o' 
 that ! Keep inside ef ye want to keep a whole skin." 
 
 The head was hastily withdrawn. 
 
 " Now, lookee hyer 1 " repeated Jake, " I'm a-goin 5 
 ter hold this hyer cabin in a state ©' seige till ye come 
 ter my terms. My terms is theses 
 
 " Yer turn my brother loose ; give 'im ev'ry gun 
 ye've got an' let 'im bring 'em out hyer to me. Then 
 yer pick up yer duds, V bring 'em out 'n' pack 
 'em in this wagon 'n' take yerselves off 'n this 
 claim* n ? when ye've done that I'll turn yer boy loose* 
 
16 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 'n' when ye've gone V took a claim 't ye've got a 
 right ter squat on, V git settled onto it, yer c'n send 
 one o' yer neighbors after them guns. Now yer c'n 
 jes' do that er I'll hoi' ye in thar till the crack' o' doom, 
 V yer boy 't's tied up out thar in the woods c'n stay 
 thar till the b'ars eat 'im up, er the wolves, 'n' they's 
 plenty o' both round hyer. I've got plenty ter eat in 
 my pockets 'n' good shelter commandin' the winders 
 'n' door." 
 
 At the close of this speech there was another wail 
 inside the cabin. The woman, rough as she was, loved 
 her hoy and was terribly frightened, and the men 
 seemed subdued and impressed with the gravity of the 
 situation. After a long parley the men, moved by the 
 entreaties of the woman and greatly to Jake's surprise, 
 did accept them and sent Jared out with the guns. 
 
 They brought out their household goods and the men 
 sullenly packed them in the wagon while Jake and 
 Jared with the guns stood guard at a safe distance. 
 They got up their oxen and hitched them to the wagon, 
 and then the woman, who had silently helped bring out 
 their bedding, clothing and cooking utensils, broke down 
 again, and begged that the boy might be "turned 
 loose 'n' fetched." 
 
 This was more than Jake could stand, and though he 
 knew the lad was safe and fairly comfortable, he had 
 tied him so that he felt certain he could not get loose. 
 He, therefore, left Jared with two guns to guard the 
 claim-jumpers and went and got the boy. The whole 
 party then drove off without a word. 
 
 It was nearly two weeks before a neighbor with 
 whom they had become acquainted, and who sided with 
 them upon learning all the facts in the case, came ovr 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES i? 
 
 ind got the guns, and brought the information that the 
 Surrels had settled about twelve miles down the river. 
 He had previously told them that he and some other 
 leighbors, who had elected the elder Burrel a constable, 
 liad not been acquainted with the family long, having 
 i>nly_ fallen in with them while "moving." 
 
 After getting acquainted with all the new-comers of 
 fcheir neighborhood the two boys found good friends 
 and good neighbors among them. 
 
THE MYSTERY OP THE TN BRAND. 
 
 Six 4 eight years ago horse and cattle thieves were 
 exceeta.-agly troublesome to the stockmen of Montana 
 and northern Wyoming. During a year's stay in 
 those regions I heard many accounts of daring and 
 successful robberies, of narrow escapes on the part of 
 these raiders, and of various curious expedients 
 employed by them to accomplish their object, which 
 was, of course, to drive off stock which did not belong 
 to them. 
 
 One of the most bold and yet cunning attempts at 
 cattle-stealing, perhaps, ever made, occurred about that 
 time on the South Cheyenne range near the Wyoming 
 and Dakota lines. I do not know that the frtory was 
 ever told outside the region in which it happened : but, 
 whether or no, it seems worth telling now. 
 
 It was just at the close of the Indian troubles aborts 
 the " Hills," when cattle men had newly discovered 
 the many advantages of the range of country lying % 
 immediately south and west of the Black Hills. It 
 would, in fact, have been impossible to have carried 
 out so daring a scheme on an older and more closely 
 guarded range. 
 
 One of the first ranches to occupy a portion of this 
 excellent grass region was built at Dead Cedar Forks 
 on West Dry Wood, and was owned by the Cheyenno 
 Cattle Company. It started with two thousand head 
 of stock, and its brand duly recorded in the nearest 
 stock journals was J V, the initials of an old ranch man 
 
 18 
 
gscmmiR, SKETCHES, 19 
 
 and chief stockholder, Joe Villemont. The letters 
 were simply formed, about eight inches in height and 
 eight inches apart, and were stamped upon the broad 
 sides, always on the right of the company's cattle, and 
 in smaller letters upon the left hips of its horses. 
 
 " Old Joe," as Villemont's men called him, had 
 always been averse to the cruelty of the big, compli- 
 cated brands which disfigure the cattle upon so many 
 ranges, and which must cause so much suffering in the 
 stamping, and afterward until the wound heals. 
 Accordingly he had always used the simplest and 
 smallest brand that would identify his stock. 
 
 At about the time the J V ranch, as it was called, 
 was established, several other cattle-owners came into 
 the region, bringing large droves of cattle, and built 
 ranches on Horse Head and Hat Creeks, and at the 
 head of White River, and the Running "Water, and the 
 " L Z's," " Circle Bars " =0* " K— 23's," " Goose Eggs/' 
 u 000 " and others, took their places with the " J Vs" 
 upon the range. 
 
 The circuit of a " round-up " was soon determined 
 upon, and the cow-boys of each ranch soon made 
 themselves familiar with the various brands upon their 
 riding circuit. 
 
 It was at the third general round-up, in June of the 
 second year, that the boys working to the northwest 
 discovered a new brand upon that part of the range, 
 and searching their recordrbook of Nebraska, "Wyom- 
 ing and Dakota brands could find no marking to cor- 
 respond. The new brand was " bar YN" thus, Y JS 
 stamped upon the right broad side, and supplemented 
 by a new moon upon the right hip. 
 
 It was a camp on Lightning creek, a number of the 
 
30 FBQNTEEB SKETCHES. 
 
 "Circle Bars" and "JV" men, who first found stocjfc 
 carrying the "bar Y N" brand, as they named it. 
 They found several steers and eighteen or twenty cows 
 bearing it, in the first bunch they rounded up and cor- 
 ralled at the Lightning Creek branding pens. The 
 markings seemed rather fresh, and the calves which 
 were running with the cows were not yet branded. 
 
 There was no little speculation in the camp that even- 
 ing, after the stock-book had been inspected by the 
 foreman, as to where these cattle belonged. It was 
 supposed that they must be strays from some recently 
 established ranch farther north— -one probably that had 
 just run in a lot of fresh-branded stock and had not yet 
 advertised its brand. 
 
 As the camp moved north and made a new branding 
 pen on Old Woman Creek the bar Y N stock became 
 more numerous until it was calculated there must be 
 a hundred and fifty or more of them ; and tjie out-rid- 
 ing cowboys began to keep their eyes open for signs of 
 a ranch. 
 
 The mystery seemed to be solved one evening by the 
 appearance in camp just at supper time of a horseman 
 who reined up with'a hearty " How do ? " and alighted. 
 He was a slim, dark-looking fellow, dressed in a well- 
 worn suit of corduroy, and wearing the regulation 
 slouch hat and high top boots. 
 
 "Well," said he, as the foreman of the camp came 
 forward, " Well, I suppose you've discovered a new 
 brand on your range down hero, — the { bar YNV eh ? " 
 
 The foreman said they had, and then asked if he 
 represented that stock, to which the stranger replied 
 that he was superintendent of the ranch to which it 
 belonged, a ranch which had been newly established 
 
on the Little Missouri range, that they had shipped 
 oat a lot of Minnesota cattle in March, and driven 
 them down from the Northern Pacific, having hay 
 enough on hand to keep them from running down 
 until grass should start up fresh in April. - 
 
 They had expected to hold them without trouble, 
 but there came a three days' blizzard, which the J V 
 and Circle Bar men had experienced also,, from the 
 north, caught a lot of them out, and ran them off to 
 the south. There were about seven hundred of these 
 new cattle gone from their ranch, he said, and they had 
 found them scattered all the way from Belle Fourche 
 to Hat Creek. 
 
 He then drew, a Montana stock journal from his 
 breast pocket and pointed out his brand advertised as 
 the property of the " Minnesota & Montana Cattle 
 Company," and went on to say that he had brought 
 down three of his men to begin at the southernmost 
 point at which their stock was to be found, and work 
 back toward home, gathering the cattle as they went. 
 
 "We'll take what calves you leave us," he said, 
 laughingly, " for you will be through with your brand- 
 ing before we fairly get to work ! " 
 
 He remarked that his camp, temporary, of course, 
 was on a creek about twenty miles east, and that he 
 had merely stumbled upon the round-up by chance 
 while looking for his own brand. 
 
 His story, perfectly plausible and established by an 
 advertisement in an accredited stock journal, made him 
 heartily welcome at the cow-camp, where he was 
 immediately invited to take supper, and, as it rained 
 that evening, he shared the foreman's bed, under the 
 cover of a big supply wagon. 
 
22 FRONTIER- SKETCHES. 
 
 It was about a week after this that the round-up 
 broke camp, and in the meantime two other cow-men 
 were met in search of bar Y N stock. Rather 
 rough-looking fellows they were — hardly up to the 
 standard of "number one punchers" the men thought 
 them. Two of the J Y boys, " Griff " Mosher and Tom 
 Dodd, with an extra pony and a week's supplies, were 
 left to look up several ponies which had strayed from 
 the camp at Indian Creek, while the others moved to 
 another part of the range. 
 
 Griff and Tom "rustled" around lively for a few 
 days, picked up all of the ponies but two, five had 
 strayed, and giving those up for lost had started from 
 Lightning Creek to go to the J Y ranch on Dry 
 Wood. They were riding down into the deep valley 
 of a small run in search of water and a camp for the 
 first evening, when they came upon a large bunch of 
 cattle grazing upon the bottom and side hill. 
 
 Upon approaching they discovered the brand bar Y 
 N upon the nearest ones, and struck by the size of the 
 drove, rode through them to discover, if possible, 
 whether they all had that mark. It seemed so ; at 
 least, they could see no other markings except the new 
 moon looking remarkably fresh upon the right hip of 
 each creature inspected. 
 
 "Hum," said Griff, as they rode forward, "them 
 fellows hev rounded up a big lot of strays right here, 
 haint they now ? Say, Tom, don't it 'pear sort o' 
 strange that they haint a spotted critter in the whole 
 bunch ? " 
 
 Tom cast his eyes over the lot with some astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " That's so," he admitted; " not a one." 
 
/ 
 
 FEONTIEB SKETCHES. 23 
 
 "And say," said Griff, pulling up with, sudden energy, 
 f if that big yellow steer there with the wide horns 
 haint the one we hed such a tussle with a-rebrandin' 
 him over at Old Woman last fall, I'll eat my hat." 
 
 Tom emphatically coincided with him. 
 
 " Tes, an' what's more," fairly shouted Griff, " I can 
 see a dozen cows I'd swear to as J V's this minute ! 
 Here, cut loose the horses an' let's down that red heifer 
 thar with a fresh brand on 'er, an' hev a look at it ! " 
 
 It was the work of three or four minutes for these 
 practiced " ropers " to catch the heifer, throw her, and 
 examine her brand. It also took but a hasty scrutiny 
 to discover that an old marking of J Y had been 
 changed to T JN" by adding fresh " lean tos " to the 
 original letters, with^a bar and the new moon to make 
 the deception more complete. 
 
 Griff and Tom wasted no time, but set their wits at 
 work, to plan a capture of the daring rascals, or, at 
 least, to take steps at once to prevent them from run- 
 ning off the stock, as — from the gathering of so large a 
 bunch — it was evident they intended doing soon. 
 
 Luckily, as they believed, the fellows had not 
 discovered their presence in the valley, and were 
 probably camped at no great distance above or below. 
 As there were known to be four of them at least, the 
 boys felt that it would be too risky to attempt to cope 
 with them alone, and they determined to ride to the 
 ranch at Dead Cedar Forks, and rally a crowd if any 
 men could be found there. 
 
 They mounted, passed through a narrow draw tc 
 the creek and up another to the high ground beyond, 
 and then rod8 hard all night, changing ponies fre- 
 quently, and only stopping twice for water, and a 
 
M FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 half -hour's rest at noon or a little before they reaua.**. 
 the J V ranch. 
 
 There was no one there except Lame Johnnie, the 
 cook, and he had not seen a man, he said, for five 
 days; didn't know where any of the boys were or 
 when they'd be in. 
 
 Johnnie himself could not ride on account of his 
 wretched legs ; and while they were off hunting up a 
 crowd the thieves might drive the cattle through to 
 Montana and sell them. 
 
 Not an hour was wasted; the two ~bold fellows 
 determined to make an attempt to recapture the stock 
 unassisted. Arming themselves with Winchesters 
 from the ranch in addition to their six-shooters, and 
 selecting four of the best ponies from the corral, they 
 rode swiftly back over the route they had traveled in 
 the morning. 
 
 They gave themselves three hours' sleep that night, 
 and the next morning halted at the creek where they 
 had found the bunch of stock with the stolen brand 
 upon them. - 
 
 As they had feared, the cattle were gone ; there was 
 not a creature except a few head of L Z and Circle 
 Bar stock to be seen in the region. But after two 
 hours' search to the northward of where they had 
 struck the stream, they came upon a well-defined and 
 fresh trail of a lot of cattle going north, and knew 
 they were upon the right track. The cattle had been 
 started the day before, as near as the boys could judge, 
 or the day after they had seen them. 
 
 They followed the trail at a racking gait until it 
 became too dark to trace it without difficulty, then 
 picketed their tired ponies, ate a cold lunch, and gave 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 2S 
 
 themselves up to a night of refreshing and much 
 needed sleep. 
 
 All the next day they rode hard upon the trail, but 
 did not come up with the thieves, who, they concluded, 
 were pushing the stock at a terrible rate, probably 
 fearing that they were pursued, as, indeed, for aught 
 Griff and Tom knew, they themselves might have been 
 within plain sight of some or all of the thieves, while 
 making the discovery of the fradulent brand. 
 
 It was easy to keep hidden among these breaks and 
 gulches. 
 
 It was not until late in the afternoon of the third 
 day's chase that they sighted the drove just descending 
 into a narrow and canon-like valley of a tributary of 
 the Belle Fourche. 
 
 Believing the thieves would stick to this narrow val- 
 ley in order to keep well hidden, the boys circled, rode 
 rapidly around them, and descended into the valley i»i 
 their front, as they could tell by the cloud of dust that 
 rose continually above the herd. They reached the 
 level of the stream at the mouth of a gulch about sun- 
 down. 
 
 Knowing that the cattle thieves would be on the 
 alert, the two cowboys had formed no plan save that of 
 immediate attack upon them from the nearest point. of 
 vantage and the most unexpected to the attacked that 
 could be gained. 
 
 The spot they had happened upon was well adapted 
 to an ambush. They picketed their ponies some rods 
 from the mouth of the gulch and out of sight, and then 
 the determined fellows, with their "Winchesters and 
 revolvers, and abundance of ammunition, placed them- 
 
26 FRONTIER SKETCHES,, 
 
 selves behind a small bank and awaited the approach 
 of the robbers as they urged the stock along the canon. 
 
 The cloud of dust rolled down, and the leaders of 
 the herd came in sight climbing out of a gulch a few- 
 rods distant. Yells and the cracking of stock whips 
 -could now be heard above the trampling and lowing of 
 the cattle. 
 
 It was growing dusk, and the thick dust which rose 
 from the dry, grassless soil of the canon made it 
 impossible to see more than a few rods with certainty. 
 But soon at the tail of the herd two horsemen appeared, 
 then another, then a fourth. They were riding not far 
 apart, the nearest about fifty yards away, and rather 
 dimly outlined in the dust and growing darkness. 
 
 Griff and Tom laid down their Winchesters, and 
 with self-cocking revolvers opened fire upon the 
 miscreants. 
 
 The first shots had no other effect than to cause the 
 thieves to leap from their saddles and get behind their 
 ponies. That they did not immediately ride out of 
 range was no doubt owing to the fear that they had 
 been surrounded, and that these shots were merely 
 to drive them upon the muzzles of other guns upon the 
 other side or in the rear. 
 
 They were not altogether cowards, either, for they 
 returned fire at once, and for a few moments the canon 
 witnessed one of those fierce shooting affrays which 
 sometimes occur between the outraged citizen and the 
 desperado of the plains and mountains. 
 
 " Crack ! crack ! crack ! " the thieves fired across their 
 horses' backs at the heads and shoulders which Griff 
 and Tom offered as marks, while the incensed and 
 excited cowboys emptied their revolvers, and then 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 27 
 
 caught up their Winchesters and " pumped " forty- 
 five's in rapid succession. 
 
 These last weapons settled the affair speedily, their 
 length and steadiness gave a better and truer aim than 
 could be got with revolvers. 
 
 First a pony went down, then one of the thieves got a 
 bullet in his leg and led his horse away while he limped 
 at his side. The man whose horse was shot took to 
 his heels and ran away. One of the others exposed 
 himself while mounting, and rode away hanging across 
 his horse's wethers. The other sprang upon his pony, 
 and galloped off up the canon. 
 
 In three minutes from the time the firing began the 
 thieves were whipped, " cleaned out " in Western par- 
 lance, and gone, and the two plucky cowboys had come 
 off without a scratch. 
 
 They dared not attempt to follow up their advan- 
 tage, however, but rode immediately after the stock, 
 which they succeeded in getting out of the canon, and 
 twenty miles on the route toward home before morn- 
 ing. 
 
 After that they took it leisurely, only keeping a 
 sharp lookout, and taking turns in guarding the stock 
 closely at night. They saw no more of the thieves 
 who had, no doubt, had enough of cattle stealing for 
 once. 
 
 The Cheyenne Cattle Company rewarded this bold 
 exploit as it deserved, by raising the wages of Griff 
 and Tom each from forty -five to sixty dollars per 
 month. 
 
m. 
 
 CORSON'S WIFE. 
 
 It would be hard to, find in the Kocky Mountains a 
 rougher stage road than that which runs between the 
 mining hamlets of Thunder Gulch and Squaw Forks. 
 Indeed, if a worse road could be found, there are few 
 persons who would care for a seat in the coach of the 
 most careful driver. 
 
 This road is twelve or thirteen miles long. A few 
 years ago a lady who ventured to ride over it called it 
 "The Twelve-Mile Horror," and by this name the road 
 is known to miners and travelers of the region. That 
 the name is deserved the writer can testify, for he 
 knows it to be truly a rambling thread over dizzy 
 precipices and among black, gaping canons. 
 
 There are places along the verge of cliffs and around 
 the juttingpoints of yawning gulches where the coach 
 seems literally suspended in mid-air, and the rider, 
 glancing out over the wheels into the sheer, gaping 
 space below, hastily pulls down the " flaps," closes his 
 eyes, and leans dizzily back in his seat, not daring to 
 look a second time. 
 
 For five years Gideon Fletcher, or " Gid," as he is 
 commonly called, has driven the stage once each day, 
 Sundays excepted, from Squaw Forks to Thunder Gulch 
 and back. Of course, he has occasionally missed a 
 trip, when slides or heavy falls of snow along the line 
 have prevented him from running. Yet during all his 
 fifteen hundred " round trips " he has never met with 
 
 28 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. W 
 
 an accident serious enough to cause the loss of life or 
 
 limb to his passengers. 
 
 So trusty and sure-handed a driver is he that the 
 " contractors of the line " will have no other, and they 
 pay him double wages to keep him upon this particular 
 stretch of their route. Only once has a coach been 
 demolished or a horse killed under his management ; 
 but on that occasion he met with a double accident, 
 under circumstances so stirring and heroic as to be well 
 worthy of narration. 
 
 It was some two years after Gideon had begun driv- 
 ing the coach upon this road that one day, asiie came 
 out from eating his dinner at " The Bough-and-Tumble 
 House" of Thunder Gulch, a pale-faced young woman 
 appeared at the rude gate, and beckoned to him. 
 
 "Are you the stage-driver that drives the stage to 
 Squaw Forks this afternoon ? " she asked, as he came up. 
 
 " I reckon I'm the chap yer lookin' fer, mum," said 
 Gideon. " Want ter go down ? Start in half a hour." 
 
 The woman glanced about nervously, as though fear- 
 ful of being overheard, and then she said, hurriedly 
 and in a low voice : 
 
 rt I'm from Corson's Camp. I'm Corson's wife ; but 
 he — they all — abuse me dreadfully, and the baby too. 
 Look here," and she threw an old bonnet she wore 
 back from her forehead, and showed a great fresh scar 
 across one temple. 
 
 "I got that last night. They do it when they're 
 drunk, and they're drunk most of the time. Night 
 before last one of 'em threatened to throw my baby 
 into a hot spring. He said he'd ( kill the little imp, he 
 would,' and oh, I can't, I don't dare to stay there any 
 longer! I'm the only woman up at the camp, and 
 

jfiKUrfflEB SKETCHES* Hi 
 
 to-day the men are all up at Big Horn Spring pros- 
 pactin' for a new place, and so I've come to you to see 
 if you won't take me away from this dreadful place. 
 
 " I've no money with me, an' no friends nearer than 
 Denver. My folks live there, and I would have wrote 
 to 'em to come and take me away if I dared ; but I 
 knew if Corson got wind of it before they got here he'd 
 kill me and the baby, too ; for though he's my husband 
 he's the most horrid and wicked man I ever saw, except 
 the gang he keeps around him. Oh, will you let me 
 go with you % " 
 
 " Wal, now, I sh'd smile ! " answered Fletcher, in his 
 hearty way. " You jest go V git yer baby 'n' yer 
 fixin's, 'n' we'll git out o* these diggin's in a jiffy." 
 
 " Oh, I daresn't come here to start," she replied ; 
 " but in an hour I'll be down at the mouth of the 'Gap ' 
 below. If I should come here, Corson would find out 
 soon as he comes back that I'd started off with you, 
 and they'd like enough catch us before we'd got down 
 to the Forks. 
 
 rt Some of 'em may be back any minute ; like enough 
 they're there now ; but I'm going to sneak away With 
 baby somehow, if they are. There don't seem to be 
 anybody hangin' round here now. All off but the 
 women folks, I s'pose, and it looks like I'd have a good 
 chance to get off without anybody's knowin' how or 
 where I went," and with this she turned and sped 
 away. 
 
 " I'll wait for ye, sure," Gideon assured her as she 
 started. 
 
 He hung about the stable of the Eough-and-Tumble 
 longer than usual that noon, pretending to one of the 
 women that came out presently that he had to " fix * 
 
3S FRONTIER SKET0HE8. 
 
 something about his harness before he started on the 
 return trip. 
 
 " Everybody's gone off crazy 'bout the new placer up 
 at Big Horn," they had told him at the table, " 'n lef 
 nobody but ther women folks 't the Gulch." 
 
 In about an hour from the time he had finished 
 dinner, Gideon and his coach were in waiting at the 
 mouth of Melcher's Gap. It was about half an hour 
 later when the woman, with her child in arms, came 
 hurrying breathlessly down to him. She looked behind 
 her frequently, and he saw as she approached that her 
 face was white with fear and suspense. 
 
 The baby, a wretched little year-old object, dressed, 
 like its mother, in mere rags, turned its poor and piti- 
 ful little face upon the driver with a wan smile that, as 
 he said, " fetched" him " clear to the boots." 
 
 " Oh, you must drive fast," cried the poor woman, as 
 she clambered into the coach without waiting for the 
 proffered help, " for they've come back, as I was afraid ! 
 Corson and two of the men, and they're going to break 
 camp and move up to Big Horn this afternoon. They 
 daresn't trust me there alone, for I am some good to 
 'em in cookin' and keepin' camp. I knew this was the 
 last chance to git free, so I took the haby and started 
 down to the spring for a pail of water, and when I got 
 out of sight I just run for here, and you must go, go ? 
 for they'll sure be after us ! " 
 
 " I'll go fast enough," answered Gideon cheerily, 
 " an' don't you be afraid they'll ketch us neither on 
 them leetle mountain ponies." 
 
 But though he spoke with such assurance and deter- 
 mination, he did not feel at all sure of the outcome of a 
 race if the men at Corson's camp should soon discover 
 
JTSONTIER SKETCHES, $8 
 
 the woman's flight and follow. He felt that he had 
 taken an extremely hazardous exploit, considering the 
 dangerous route he had to drive over and the characters 
 of the men, who, he had not a doubt, would be- upon his 
 trail within the next half hour. 
 
 The spring at Corson's Camp he knew was in a 
 ravine at the head of Melcher's Gap, and as this canon 
 was the only outlet in that direction, Corson could not 
 long remain ignorant of his wife's line of flight after he 
 had discovered, as he soon must, that she was truly 
 gone. 
 
 But the woman and her baby, in such evident and 
 distressing need- of rescue, had "fetched him," and the 
 brave driver, looking to his revolvers to see that the 
 chambers were all loaded, drew in the lines and 
 urged forward his horses at as great a rate of speed as 
 the nature of the road would warrant. 
 
 For a half hour or more the coach rattled forward at 
 a dangerous pace, for these first few miles were the 
 roughest part of the road. Up and down it went 
 through deep gorges, scaling precipitous " hog backs," 
 and swaying far above the verge of cavernous canons. 
 From the point of every turn that commanded a view 
 of the trail behind, Gid cast anxious glances backward, 
 to note if anyone were yet in pursuit. 
 - At the " half-mile stone," which was supposed to 
 mark a spot midway between Thunder Gulch and 
 Squaw Forks, was a height from which a good portion 
 of the road for two miles back could be seen, and here 
 it was that the driver discovered, indeed, that Oorson 
 and his men were following them. A single glano« 
 sufficed to reveal them — three horsemen—riding at a 
 
34 tfMOKtUEB SUETOmift, 
 
 breakneck gallop over the crest of a long hog-bacfc 
 some mile and a half in the rear of the coach. 
 
 " A flight for life," thought Gideon, and he cracked 
 his long whip above the ears of the already fretted 
 stage-team. The horses were not unwilling to go 
 faster, however, on the contrary they seemed nervous 
 and frightened at such unusual driving, and sprang 
 forward at a pace which the driver soon found it 
 necessary to check by vigorous pulling at their reins. 
 
 " Are they coming ? Did you see them ? " screamed 
 the woman, frightened at the swaying and rocking of 
 the stage as they rounded a curve. 
 
 "Oh, we're all right!" the driver shouted back, 
 evading a direct answer. " The road ain't bad, hyar ! 
 An' I'm a-tryin' ter make up fer whar His. " 
 
 The coach tore along, pitching crazily down into 
 deep gullies, and swaying wildly above the crests of 
 abrupt cliffs or the sides of gulf-like ravines. 
 
 It was quite a number of minutes before Gideon 
 caught sight of the pursuing horsemen again, but 
 when he did, as they came around the point of a 
 mountain spur, they had gained perceptibly upon the 
 coach, and the question of being overtaken had 
 narrowed to one merely of time. And now the driver 
 began to canvass the chances of making a successful 
 defense when he should be finally overtaken. 
 
 There was a point nearly two miles ahead, where, 
 if he could only reach it, the road ran along the foot 
 of a narrow ledge and above a precipitous gulch, and 
 where he thought he might halt the coach behind a 
 sheltering point of rocks, and " stand off " their pur- 
 suers with his revolvers. He was now determined at 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES, $& 
 
 every hazard to keep the woman and her child out of 
 
 the clutches of her pursuers. 
 
 "With this goal and end in view, then, he drove with 
 a recklessness, which in any less urgent case would 
 have been mad, indeed. More than once the poor 
 woman screamed with fright, as the hack lunged for- 
 ward or careened over, and ran several yards on two 
 wheels. 
 
 But Fletcher kept a steady and strong rein on his 
 animals, and threw his weight to one side or the other 
 as the coach rocked and threatened to overturn. 
 
 Several minutes passed in this mad flight, when, 
 glancing back at a smooth turn, the driver caught 
 another view of Corson and his men ; they were now 
 pressing hard upon him. There was but a few min- 
 utes more to spare in racing, but Gideon had reached 
 a point where, if no accident should occur, he felt cer- 
 tain of gaining the narrow pass. 
 
 His horses were sweating profusely from fright and 
 exertion, but still seemed full of energy. 
 
 On, on, they flew. It was wonderful that the coach 
 kept right side up, while the poor frightened woman 
 inside clung frantically to her seat with one arm, and 
 to her babe with the other. 
 
 Another half-mile was passed safely, and Gideon 
 felt a thrill of triumph as he struck the mountain spur, 
 upon the other side of which he felt sure of making a 
 successful stand against their pursuers. Both at the 
 Gulch and the Forks, he was known as a " crack shot" 
 with his revolvers, and those three fellows, he thought, 
 with no little judgment, wouldn't care u to run up agin 
 'em, 5; when once he had gained the shelter of the jut- 
 ting rocks on the other side. 
 
36 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 But just as he reached the point of the spur, and 
 when too late, he remembered a dangerous curve in 
 front, where, going at their present rate of speed, the 
 hack must inevitably be thrown off the ledge by its 
 own momentum. It was a short turn upon a steep 
 bench with a ledge above and a chasm below. 
 
 He threw all his weight in a backward pull upon the 
 lines, but the team, now thoroughly frightened and_^ 
 wildly excited by their furious run, refused to obey the 
 reins, and plunged recklessly ahead. 
 
 They were now within a few rods of the fatal turn, 
 and Gideon, foreseeing instant catastrophe, dropped 
 the lines, sprang over the back of his seat, and catch- 
 ing -both woman and child in his arms, jumped out with 
 them upon the upper side of the road. 
 
 They were scarcely out of the hack when the vehicle 
 " sloughed " off the road, overturned, and, as it did so* 
 wrenched the team off the narrow " dug- way." 
 
 The poor animals scrambled resistingly for an instant, 
 then one lost its footing and fell ; the other plunged 
 over it, and coach and all went crashing into the bottom 
 of the gulch below. Gideon had time to note this, as 
 he says, even while trembling with his precious freight 
 from the bank of the spur, against which he had leaped, 
 into the road-bed. 
 
 Luckily the bank at that point was of earth instead 
 of rocks — the ledge was but a few steps further on — and 
 the three, though shocked and jarred, were unharmed 
 by their violent exit from the hack. 
 
 Gideon, however, did not stop an instant to note 
 whether the woman or her child were injured, but 
 gathering the baby on one arm and grasping its moth- 
 
seossTiBs sketches. i r i 
 
 3r*s arm with his free hand, ran forward, carrying the 
 one and fairly dragging the other. 
 
 Just a few steps beyond the ledge were several big 
 boulders on the lower side of the road. To gain the 
 shelter of those before Corson and his men came in 
 sight was now Gid's object. 
 
 Before the boulders were reached, he could hear the 
 clatter of hoofs around the curve. The men were in 
 close pursuit and riding hard, but by dint of great 
 exertion Gideon reached the rocks with his charges a 
 minute or two before the pursuers rounded the point. 
 
 "Set close behind hyar," he commanded the woman, 
 " and hyar, take your babby V keep es quiet *n* es 
 cool es ye ken." 
 
 Then he drew a revolver from one of the holsters at 
 his hips, and dropping upon his knees at a spot where 
 he could peer through between two of the boulders, 
 cocked the weapon, and leveled it upon the road pre- 
 paratory to halting the fellows with a shot as soon as 
 they came in sight. 
 
 He had not a second to wait before the leader 
 appeared at a point just beyond where the stage and 
 team had gone off the bench and over the cliff. 
 
 It was Corson himself, but he had " slowed up, " and 
 before Gideon could make up his mind to fire, he sud- 
 denly drew rein, and gave utterance as he did so to a 
 loud and excited oath. 
 
 He had discovered what had happened to the stage 
 by means— as was afterwards proved-— of a sheep-skin 
 seat cushion, which had been flung out of the hack as 
 it overturned, and had lodged on top of the ledge. 
 
 The other two men came up almost instantly and 
 halted, and then the three dismounted and talked 
 
excitedly together— thoagh Gideon could not distin- 
 guish what they said — and one of them went forward 
 and peered long and intently over the ledge. 
 
 But either he dared not go near enough to the verge 
 of the precipice to see plainly to the base, or he could 
 not clearly make out the wreck on account of the 
 chaparral thicket below, for, after gazing a minute, he 
 shook his head decidedly, as though convinced that 
 passengers and all had gone over, and then all three 
 quickly remounted, wheeled their ponies about upon 
 the " dug- way," and disappeared as rapidly as they had 
 come. 
 
 " Unyhugh! " grunted Gideon, with great satisfaction, 
 "ye think ye've ran us over thar 'n' smashed the hull 
 outfit, don't ye, 'n' ye've skipped mighty sudden for 
 fear t' sumun 'd come along 'n' diskiver yer deviltry, 
 haint ye ? " 
 
 Then he told Mrs. Corson to get up, and taking the 
 child from her arms — the scared little thing had slept 
 as quiet as a young partridge in hiding— helped her to 
 rise and led her out upon the road. 
 
 The woman had seemed like one dazed while lying 
 there in hiding, but now that she understood that the 
 man she so feared had really gone she plucked up 
 courage, and declared that she could easily walk the 
 remainder of the way to Squaw Forks— there being no 
 habitations at that time between the two points. 
 
 They reached the little town after a wearisome tramp 
 over the rough road. 
 
 Their arrival and the story of their adventure and 
 escape created great excitement among the miners, who 
 gathered at one of the stores that evening, and raised 
 two hundred dollars to give to the woman, besides pay- 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 39 
 
 ing her stage fare in advance to the nearest railway 
 station where she could take a train for Denver. 
 
 The coach and the team were discovered the next 
 day, a shapeless wreck, having taken a clear plunge of 
 nearly one hundred feet. Only the mail was rescued. 
 
 Corson and his gang " pulled up stakes " and left the 
 region immediately, and it was well for them that they 
 did, for as the story of the woman's sufferings became 
 known, the irate miners would surely have lynched 
 them if they had not taken themselves away. 
 
XV. 
 
 THE "MOANING ROCK" AT BOGEY'S BEND. 
 
 A daily newspaper widely read in the "West devotes 
 a page of each. Saturday's edition, seven columns or so, 
 to collections of ghostly doings, as related by local nar- 
 rators in various parts of its own and surrounding" 
 States. These tales and brief accounts are entirely 
 devoted to modern and, if many of them are to be 
 believed, "well-authenticated" ghosts, surprising as this 
 may seem to the reader who has not the advantage of 
 an acquaintance with the " spook " columns of the jour- 
 nal in question. 
 
 There are stories, indeed, of haunted houses in south- 
 western towns where even the electric light has failed 
 to " lay " their nightly and mysterious visitants. This 
 local revival in ghostly matters and beliefs gives good 
 proof of the strength and persistence of inherited ten- 
 dencies. 
 
 In the backwoods annals of forty or fifty years since 
 we expect to find strong traces of superstition, tales of 
 weird and supernatural happenings. It was the writer's 
 good fortune lately to listen to one of these old-time 
 accounts in a story of a haunted rock, the incidents of 
 which were told him by one who took part in the 
 adventure, and are well remembered by old inhabitants 
 about Bogey's Bend. 
 
 Bogey's Bend of the Wisconsin river received its 
 name from its earliest settler, a Canadian Frenchman, 
 who had married an Irish wife in his native province, 
 but after a time moved westward with a numerous 
 
PBONTIEK SKETCHES. II 
 
 family and finally settled upon a fine tract of land in a 
 sweeping bend of the Wisconsin, the only land fit for 
 cultivating, in fact, of several square miles contained 
 within the curve, the remainder being swampy, heavily 
 timbered, and subject to over-flow. Hence it was a 
 lonesome spot, and other settlers had been content with 
 the fertile valleys and plateaus of the bluffs which skirt 
 the river valley. A spur of those bluffs projects across 
 the valley at the lower end of Bogey's Bend, termi- 
 nating in a razor-like ridge, sharply descending and 
 abruptly ending at the river's bank. Numerous big 
 rocks, jagged, and broken, crown the " hog-back " of 
 this ridge, and at the very extremity, protecting this 
 bluff, indeed, from the wear of a swift current, stands 
 a pinnacled rock projecting about seventy-five feet 
 above the ridge and nearly twice that distance from 
 the water's edge. 
 
 To the right of this rugged sentinel, calling the river 
 its front, a densely-timbered swamp stretches for 
 several miles, while immediately at its left the earth of 
 the bluff has caved off, leaving an extremely high and 
 steep bank plainly bearing the marks of an old land- 
 slide. And it was told by the old trappers of the region 
 and also by an aged Winnebago chief, known as an 
 occasional visitor throughout the surrounding settle- 
 ments, that the caving off of this huge bank some 
 thirty years before had buried a party of adventurers 
 who, with a Winnebago guide, had drawn their canoes 
 in there and camped for the night upon the river shore 
 beneath the beetling bluff. 
 
 Ever since that time, so the trappers and the Indian 
 maintained, the spirits of these unfortunates had 
 hovered about the big rock-— had made it their home, 
 
42 HSONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 in fact ; and almost any night of the year they might 
 be heard moaning and sighing in a way that made the 
 listeners shiver. When the wind blew strongly up 
 river on a wet night, our old trapper claimed, it was 
 " jes beas'ly terrible ter hear thar carryin's on." And 
 the old Winnebago said : 
 
 " Heap spirit make um noise, scare Injun a heap." 
 
 The trappers and hunters, who in this locality, as in 
 all others throughout the Northwest, had preceded 
 the settlers, giving a nomenclature which has generally 
 stuck to prominent landmarks and streams, had not 
 failed in the matter of this mysterious rock, and its 
 name, " The Moaning Rock," still clings. The stories 
 which they told of the supernatural noises and sights 
 which were to be heard and seen — for some of them 
 claimed also to have seen strange things about the 
 rock — naturally found a credulous reception among the 
 more ignorant of the settlers, and in fact for several 
 years the locality of the Moaning Kock was pretty 
 generally avoided. Even among those who " poohed " 
 at the idea of there being any ghosts at all, and boasted 
 of having been to the rock and that nothing of the kind 
 was to be heard or seen, very few, if anv. had ever been 
 known to go there in the night. 
 
 Some there were, of course, practical men, busied 
 with work and improvement upon their new farms, 
 who very sensibly paid no attention to any t al es of the 
 sort that infested this rock, and who had no interest in 
 visiting the isolated spot. 
 
 Peter Bogey was one of these. He laughed when 
 his children or wife repeated with awe the accounts 
 they had heard of the " Moaning Rock," and would say 
 good-humoredly : 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 48 
 
 * £ Fools dey ees ticker es do guss'oppers." 
 But to bis Irish, wife and the young Bogeys the rock 
 was a veritable bugbear. The boys could scarce be 
 got to-go in its direction in search of the cows when 
 the animals strayed that way. However, as " Al " 
 Bogey, the oldest boy, got well along in his teens and 
 began to extend his hunting excursions further into the 
 swamps, he grew — like his father — skeptical of the 
 ghosts and witches in which his mother firmly believed, 
 and at length became so bold in one of his hunts as to 
 track a deer directly up to the foot of the ledge above 
 the crown of which towered the redoubtable rock. He 
 had seen it once before from a height of bluff some 
 half a mile distant — a safe point of view — beyond 
 which few visitors ventured. 
 
 What he saw now was a steeple-like rock, triangular 
 in shape, with rough, jagged edges and sharp projec- 
 tions, and growing beside it in a sheltering fashion a 
 huge whiteoak-tree, some of the largest limbs of which 
 had been turned aside in their growth by its nearness. 
 Al could not but feel that it was a bold thing to stand 
 there surveying the-rock, and felt not a little uneasy, 
 notwithstanding his lately-aroused skepticism. He 
 lingered for some time, and though he felt strongly the 
 influence of the old tales he had listened to, and the 
 weird lonesomeness of the spot, he neither saw nor 
 heard anything of an alarming nature. Yet he knew 
 that night was the real time to settle the matter — at 
 night, when the wind " blew strong up river." And as 
 he wandered towards home, having lost jbhe trail of the 
 deer upon the hard dry soil of the ridge, he came to 
 the determination to find out for certain whether the 
 story of strange noises and sights at the " Moaning 
 
Hi WBGSmSR SKETCHES. 
 
 Eock " were true or note He knew a young fellow, Jet 
 Ferris, over on Bear Creek, whom he was sure he could 
 get to go with him. 
 
 Jet was a great hunter, afraid of nothing, and would 
 as gladly be out all night as all day if tnere were any 
 fun or excitement to be had. 
 
 He said nothing at home of his visit to the rock or 
 of his plan, not wishing to arouse the fears and oppo- 
 sition of his mother, who believed in real ghosts and 
 wizards, and that only evil could befall those who tried 
 to pry into their affairs. 
 
 It was September, and Al had not long to wait for a 
 wet, drizzly day which freed him from work and also 
 promised the right sort of a night for his adventure, 
 the wind blowing " up river," or nearly so. As soon 
 as his morning chores were done he took down his 
 father's rifle and set out for the home of Jet, on Bear 
 Creek, four miles distant. Upon reaching young Fer- 
 ris's home he was told that " Jet hed went up t' the 
 Birch Bluffs t' shoot pa'tridges," and was asked to 
 come in, " set by the fire an' dry yer clo's." 
 
 But he declined the invitation, saying: 
 
 " Wet clothes ain't nothin'." 
 
 And, well knowing that the game Jet was hunting 
 would be found that day upon the sheltered side of the 
 bluffs, he set out after the hunter again, and, after a 
 two hours' tramp, succeeded in finding him. 
 
 Jet, after his fashion, gave Al a boisterous greeting, 
 and then readily agreed to his proposal to spend the 
 night, or a part of it, at the Moaning Eock. 
 
 " I ben awantin' ter dew it, " said Jet, " fer a long 
 time, but I didn't know of nobody as I thought 'd 
 wanter go long 'th me V I couldn't scrouge myself 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 45 
 
 clean up ter the p'int of goin' alone ; but along of you 
 I ain't afeared. " 
 
 They spent a large part of the day in hunting, 
 returning to Jet's home with back-loads of pheasants 
 and squirrels. Then, after an early supper, or rather, 
 a late dinner, they started for the Moaning Rock— a 
 trip of four miles or more along the tops of the Bear 
 Creek Bluffs. 
 
 It was yet broad daylight when they reached the 
 rock. They went boldly up to it, walking along the 
 base and gazing up at the ragged sides and pinnacled 
 tops. 
 
 "No spooks up thar es I c'n see," laughed Jet. 
 And then, as it still lacked some time of growing dark, 
 he proposed that they should go down into the swamp 
 with the dog and " see 'f he can't stir out a coon er a 
 wild cat. " 
 
 To this plan Al eagerly agreed. Having a lantern 
 with them to light their way home they set it down at 
 the base of the big oak to await their return. , 
 
 After a half hour's unsuccessful beating about in the 
 nearer parts of the big timber swamp it began to grow 
 dusk, and they turned back for their night's vigil. 
 The wind, instead of " going down with the sun, " had 
 risen considerably, and was blowing stiffly among the 
 tree-tops as they emerged upon the river bank at the 
 foot of the big rock. There was a fine rain falling also, 
 and they started at once to pass around the base of the 
 rock and climb the ridge to the shelter of the big oak 
 which branched out partially on the leeward side of its 
 neighbor. They had not ascended one-third of the 
 way when a strange, weird sound broke out above 
 
fe$ FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 their heads— a long-drawn wail that wound up in 
 
 almost a shriek. 
 
 Al Bogey, who is now a man considerably past mid- 
 dle age, says though he fought three years in the war 
 he can remember no moment of his life of such terrible 
 fright and suspense as the one in which he first listened 
 to this wail from the Moaning Rock. He cowered 
 down to the very ground, expecting instantly some 
 awful vision to present itself. But Jet stood boldly 
 up and listened intently while yet another mournful 
 wail broke forth and quavered, at first low and plain- 
 tively, then increased to a shrill whistle, then died 
 away only to be followed by others, sounding some- 
 times singly, sometimes a number in unison. 
 
 " Nothin' in the worP but the wind up 'mong them 
 snags V jags of rock," he said presently, and in a 
 triumphant, conclusive tone that brought Al to his feet 
 with a heart that soon began to beat naturally with 
 the sudden conviction that Jet was right. He, too, 
 now that his " right mind " had returned, could recog- 
 nize the old familiar whistle ot the wind, as it had 
 sounded from his baby days around the chimneys and 
 the roofs of the log houses in which he had lived. 
 
 He was breathing easy again when suddenly an 
 entirely different and more appalling sound jarred 
 upon his ears, and once more sent a chill creeping over 
 him. 
 
 C-r-r-a-ai-Jc-k ! 
 
 It was a harsh, discordant scream, such -as might 
 have issued from the mouth of the ugliest wizard of 
 all his mother's category. 
 
 " Mercy, Jet ! he exclaimed ; " what's that ? " 
 
 "Hub!" grunted the stolid fellow, "& feller that 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. k'l 
 
 runs in the woods oughter know that sound ; it's two 
 o' them big boughs up thar that's growed crosswise a 
 grittin' agin each other. I've hearn 'em do that a 
 hundred times in the woods. Now them sounds," he 
 went on, " is jest the long 'n' short o' the hull o' this 
 here sperrit business; an' es fer seein' things, why eny 
 body es is too skeered ter know them sounds could see 
 a 'most any thing they 'magined, I sh'd jedge." 
 
 This made Al- feel rather small, but he owned his 
 cowardly feeling. 
 
 "I was skeered, Jet, that's a fact, V if I'd ben 
 alone," he said, " thet rock would 'a' ben howlin' with 
 sperrits." 
 
 " O, wal," replied Jet, with intent to comfort, "you 
 haint traipsed the woods es many years es I have, else 
 ye'd know'd them sounds. Thar she goes agin' — " 
 
 8-c-r-r-e-a-h ! 
 
 "Now let's go up," he concluded, "an git our 
 lantern 'n' strike fer home." 
 
 The wind whistled and screamed overhead as they 
 climbed, and when they reached the trunk of the old 
 oak a Tiew wonder greeted them — the lantern was 
 gone ! 
 
 Although fast growing dark it was still light enough 
 to have discovered the lantern had it been near the 
 spot where they had left it ; it was a bright new one, 
 and its polished tin base could almost have been seen 
 in utter darkness. In vain they lit matches, and 
 finally built a fire from dry sticks gathered within 
 shelter of the rock; their luminary was gone, and no 
 trace of it could be found. The wind could not reach 
 the spot where it had sat, and the dog had been at 
 their heels coming up from the hunt ; therefore some- 
 
fee FKOSTHEE SKETCHES. 
 
 thing or somebody unknown to them had taken it 
 away. 
 
 " Wall," said Jet, scratching his puzzled head, " this 
 here comes the neardest to speritool perceedin's of 
 anything I've hearn on 'bout this rock." 
 
 It was about this time that the dog began to show 
 signs of excitement. Suddenly putting his nose to the 
 ground he ran out to the river bank along the top of 
 the land-slide and began barking furiously. 
 
 The boys piled more sticks on the fire and then fol- 
 lowed the animal. 
 
 " That's whar our lantern's gone, " declared Jet. 
 "Don't know what's got it, but that dawg's follered it 
 fur's he could, sure. Thar's somethin' round here that 
 ain't no sperrit, fer that dawg don't foller nothin' that 
 don't make tracks ner leave no smell." 
 
 They cautiously approached the edge of the bank 
 where the animal was jumping about in noisy excite- 
 ment, and peered over into a black depth which the on- 
 coming night had made murky and forbidding enough. 
 
 Nothing was to be seen or heard ; the wind's roar 
 drowned even the swash of the current which ran 
 below. 
 
 " Thar's somethin' down thar somewhar," declared 
 Jet, positively. 
 
 " Shucks ! " said Al. " How could any thin' be down 
 thar on the sides of that slide ? " 
 
 Just then, as if in answer to the question, there 
 flashed out below a little to their left a thin stream of 
 light. It came from the bank and projected in a funnel- 
 shaped glare, like the light from a bull's eye lantern. 
 
 They were startled, and yet the streak of light shone 
 out into the blackness with such a natural, cheerful 
 
FKOTTIEB SEETCHSfe. ,U 
 
 gleam that there could be no doubt of a genuine flame 
 behind it, queer as the situation seemed. 
 
 "What'd I tell ye?" exclaimed Jet, triumphantly . 
 46 Some feller down there with our lantern." 
 
 " Fishin' mebbe," suggested Al. " Must be farther 
 down than it looks." 
 
 " No," said Jet, " it's comin' right out o 'the centre o' 
 the bank not more'n forty feet below. Somebody's in 
 a cave or a hole down thar, 'n' if 'tw'a'nt fer this 
 howlin' wind I sh'd expect 'em ter hear the racket up 
 here V be pokin' ther heads out." 
 
 The dog had suddenly left them again, and a moment 
 later they heard him barking directly below and nearly 
 beneath them. 
 
 'Thar — see ! " exclaimed Jet. " Thar's a path goes 
 down ; it's out here by the rock." And he ran to the 
 fire, and, gathering the unburnt ends of several flaming 
 brands, in his hands, arranged a torch. 
 
 " Now, come on," he said ; " let's find the path." 
 
 "Ain't you feared ? " asked Al. 
 
 " Shucks, no," replied the plucky fellow; "it's only 
 some ol' trapper that's got a good thing long of these 
 banks which nobody won't come near, 'n' the cute ol 
 feller's dug a hole down thar so's ter keep hid up." 
 
 This theory re-assured Al, and, hiding their guns under 
 a dry ledge, they passed around the rock to the edge of 
 the bank. After a moment's careful seareh the path was 
 found leading from between two boulders obliquely 
 along the steep incline. By the light of Jet's flaming 
 sticks they could trace the narrow roadway several 
 yards in advance. It had plainly been cut into the bank 
 by the aid of tools, but it proved a ticklish affair, barely 
 sufficient for safe passage in daylight, and after descend- 
 
50 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 ing carefully the slippery way for a dozen steps or so, 
 Jet halted. 
 
 " 'Taint safe," he announced to Al, who was cau- 
 tiously following, while he held the torch above his 
 head. " 'Taint safe to go no furder, slippery 'n' narrer, 
 'n' what's more, the rain's goinl. to put this light out 
 d'rectly." 
 
 All this time the dog had barked energetically 
 ahead, but as Jet finished there came the booming 
 reports of a gun, followed by a sharp canine yelp either 
 of fright or pain. It was evident almost instantly that 
 the animal was more frightened than hurt, for, peering 
 ahead under his waning light, Jet saw the dog bounding 
 up the path. Instinctively the torch-bearer threw him- 
 self back against the bank, and the dog sprang past, 
 brushing him smartly, but not pushing him off his feet. 
 Al was not so lucky ; the brute, both frightened and 
 hurt, as it afterwards proved, struck him squarely upon 
 the legs, knocking his feet from under him. 
 
 Instantly the luckless lad was sent sliding down the 
 slippery incline at a rate of speed which took his 
 breath and left him no time for thought or action. 
 Luckily he started feet first, and instinct, of course, 
 made him clutch the earth of the bank with either 
 hand, thus keeping his body in the same position ; at 
 least he supposes so, for he had sense enough to feel 
 that he struck the water feet first, and, after a strang- 
 ling splash, was surprised to find himself standing up to 
 his neck in the current and up to his knees in mud. It 
 was the season of low water, and the stronger portion 
 of the current turned further out by the rock above 
 had allowed the water to fall away from the bank and 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES 51 
 
 intervening bed to fill partially with the earth washed 
 down from above. 
 
 As soon as he got his breath Al began the struggle to 
 free his feet, which it took some time to do, as the veloc- 
 ity of his " slide " had driven his legs into the sticky 
 material with no little force. He succeeded at length, 
 and then setting to work as best he could in such a 
 depth of water and such darkness, got off his boots and 
 most of his clothes and made a bundle of them. He 
 was a good swimmer, and as the water was not very 
 cold he struck boldly out into the current and swam 
 down stream, using one hand and his legs, while with 
 the other hand he clung to his clothes. 
 
 He had swum but a few minutes when he heard Jet's 
 voice hallooing at him from the bank above. He gave 
 an answering shout, to which Jet replied with a joyful 
 whoop. 
 
 " Down a leetle furder here, Al," he shouted ; " here's 
 a good place ter climb the bank. And Al having 
 rounded the bluff came in shore by the aid of Jet's light 
 and was soon standing dripping upon the bank, while 
 Jet, holding a dimly-burning brand, danced around him 
 in a furor of delight. 
 
 " Hurray ! " he said, " I thought ye was a goner. 
 Mighty lucky there wasn't no stones ner stumps ter hit 
 agin. Now git on yer clo'es, fer we must be gettin' out 
 o' this. I brung down the guns, hopin' ye'd turn up all 
 right, fer 'twont be safe fer us ter poke round up thar 
 any more. They's a den o' thieves, er wuss, up thar in 
 that bank." 
 
 After u weary, stumbling tramp over the bluffs, they 
 succeeded in reaching Ferris's house in the valley. The 
 family got up to listen to their story, and the dog was 
 
52 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 called in and carefully examined. Two slight buckshot 
 wounds in the jaw and shoulder attested the truth of 
 the boys' narrative. 
 
 By noon the next day nearly ail the men and boys of 
 Bear Creek had assembled, each armed with some sort 
 of weapon, at the Moaning Rock. 
 
 But the inhabitants of the bank had flown ; their den 
 a roomy excavation with a small entrance just large 
 enough to crawl through handily, was found empty, and 
 the hay or grass which they had used for beds had been 
 scattered over the floor of the cavern and burned, thus 
 leaving no scrap of anything by which their business or 
 their number might be guessed.. There were two 
 paths, one leading to the ridge above, and the other to 
 the water below, thus giving two avenues of escape, as 
 they had, no doubt, a boat in hiding upon the river. 
 
 The bank proved not to be so steep as it appeared in 
 looking from the top or bottom. The cave-dwellers, 
 whoever they were, were evidently aware of the super- 
 stition investing the Moaning Eock, and had taken 
 advantage of the protection it offered in seeking a base 
 for some secret and, no doubt, illegal traffic. 
 
 The settlers at once concluded that they were coun- 
 terfeiters, and probably they were right in so thinking, 
 for the country at that time was exceedingly pestered 
 with well-counterfeited bills of the State, or " Wild-cat " 
 banks, as they came to be called later. 
 
 As the rain had obliterated all traces of flight, how- 
 ever, no attempt was made to follow this band, for it 
 was evident from the size of the cave and the work that 
 had been done that there must have been a number of 
 them. That they had thought themselves discovered 
 and, were prepared for fight, even before Jet and Al had 
 
JlfJBDNTXER SKETCHES. ««, 
 
 returned from the swamp, seemed evident from the 
 taking of the lantern and their warning shot at the dog. 
 
 The cave remained a neighborhood curiosity for some 
 years, and was inhabited for a time by wolves, but at 
 length the wash of heavy rains wore away and destroyed 
 all trace of both path and cavern. 
 
 The episode above related, however, broke the spell 
 which had so long hung around the Moaning Rock, and 
 Jet and Al got, as they deserved, no little credit for 
 their plucky adventure. 
 
MORTIMER HALLECK'S .ADVENTURE. 
 
 Among- the many adventurous incidents of qui • 
 frontier life in northwest Iowa, fifteen years ago, I 
 recall one that befell a boy neighbor, Mortimer Hal- 
 leck, in which his recklessness came very near causing 
 his death. 
 
 There were five of us boys, who formed a little com- 
 pany of tried friends and pledged comrades. We 
 hunted, trapped, boated, went skating and swimming 
 together, and, when the first frame school-house was 
 built, we occupied the two back seats, on the boys' side. 
 
 In our hunts after deer, wolves, badgers, and feath- 
 ered game, we found an exhilaration such as I never 
 again expect to experience in the tamer pursuits 
 of life. We even felt an exultant joy in the fierce 
 buffeting of the winter blizzards which annually 
 descended upon us from the plateaus of Dakota. 
 
 During the regular season of bird migration, the 
 resounding golunk, golunk, of the wild goose, the 
 shrill Mil-la-la of the swift and wary brant, the affec- 
 tionate qu-a-a-rr-k, quack of the Mallard drake and his 
 mate, with the strange, inimitable cry of the whooping 
 crane, combined to form a sylvan orchestra, the music 
 of which thrilled us with more pleasurable sensations 
 than were ever awakened by the household organ or 
 the town brass band of later years. 
 
 In the early spring, during the alternate slush, mud 
 and freeze of the first thaws, there always occurred a 
 
 U 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES, &$ 
 
 short vacation from school and work, in which we 
 
 gathered a harvest of fun, fur and feathers. 
 —At this season, the low, flat valleys of the Little 
 Sioux and the Ocheyedan rivers were covered six or 
 eight feet deep by the annual overflow ; and torrents of 
 yellow snow-water, the melting of tremendous drifts, 
 rushed down creeks and ravines. 
 
 As soon as these impetuous currents had gathered 
 force enough to upheave the thick layers of ice in the 
 river-beds and break over the __banks 5 out came beaver, 
 musk-rat and m,ink,tlriveh from house and hole to take 
 refuge upon the masses of ice and drift stuff which 
 lodged in the thickets of tall willows that grew along 
 the beds of these streams. Here they were obliged to 
 stay until the water subsided, and here they often fell 
 a prey to the rifle or shot-gun of the hunter. 
 
 We owned three boats in common ; and as the men 
 of the settlement were not particularly busy during the 
 freshet season, we could easily persuade or hire them to 
 load our skiffs on their wagons, and haul us eight or ten 
 miles up the Sioux or Ocheyedan, for half a day's run 
 down home, in which scarcely the stroke of an oar was 
 necessary, after getting out into the main channel. 
 Floating leisurely down, we were able to hunt musk- 
 rat, geese and ducks, which were plentiful on the water 
 or on the banks. 
 
 Beaver were scarce, but we occasionally got one. 
 A mink or two, a couple of dozen musk-rats, and a 
 goodly bag of feathered game were often the result of 
 a half-day's ran with a single boat. 
 
 Mortimer Halleck, who at this time lived in the 
 fork of the rivers, and at a considerable distance from 
 the rest of us, owned a staunch skiff, which he had 
 
5G FBOKTXER SKETCHES. 
 
 himself made, and in it went often alone upon the 
 rivers. It was upon one of these solitary trips that he 
 met with the adventure mentioned. 
 
 On a raw afternoon in March, his father had taken 
 Mortimer and his boat on his double horse wagon six 
 miles up stream. At this point there was a great bend 
 in the river, and, by crossing the neck, the water dis- 
 tance to the fork was lengthened to fifteen miles. 
 Mortimer was thus set afloat with his boat, with a long 
 afternoon's run on the river before him. 
 
 For several hours the young hunter allowed his boat 
 to drift down with the current, then swollen to an 
 unusual height. His eyes, roving on either hand, were 
 now and then rewarded with the sight of a small brown 
 bunch of fur, resting on a bit of lodged drift. Then 
 followed a quick puff of smoke, and the echoing report 
 from the shot-gun. The troubles of the furry little chap 
 were at an end. The kinks would straighten out 
 of its small humped back, and, as a deft turn of the 
 oars brought the boat alongside, the hunter's hand 
 would reach over the edge, grasp the long, slim tail, 
 and fling the body of the sleek little musquash into the 
 boat. 
 
 Twice during the afternoon a flock of geese had 
 ventured low down over the drifting boatman, and 
 each time one of the flock had fallen a victim. The 
 others had hurried away in noisy confusion. He had 
 hardly expected to find beaver, yet as the night drew 
 on without a sight of one, he felt a little disappointed. 
 True, he had secured a profitable lot of game: two 
 geese, a mink, and more than a dozen muskrats. 
 
 But he wanted to show a beaver with the rest of his 
 bag, and he had about given up his hopes of it wHen, 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 57 
 
 just as the sun was setting and while he was passing 
 down the mid channel between two long lines ■ of clus- 
 tering willow thickets, he espied the very object of his 
 desires directly ahead and within easy range. 
 
 The animal was rolled up in a rusty brown ball, lying 
 in a snug nest amid the bushy sprouts from an elm 
 stub which projected three or four feet above the 
 water. The tree had been broken off, and leaned out 
 from the summer banks of the river. It had grown, 
 as elm stumps often do, a dense fringe of short, tangled 
 brush about the end of the trunk. Among these sprouts 
 the beaver had fashioned a nest, and was lying curled 
 up, asleep when Mortimer, drifting silently down 
 within short range, raised his gun and shot at it. 
 
 But the beaver is a " hard-lived " animal, and, even 
 when shot at such close quarters, will quite frequently 
 flop off its perch into the water, and, clutching with 
 teeth and claws into roots or grass at the bottom, 
 remain there. In that case, the hunter's ammunition 
 is simply wasted. 
 
 This had happened more than once in Mortimer's 
 experience, and, fearing that it might happen again, 
 for he saw the beaver floundering heavily in its nest, 
 be brought the boat about in great haste, circled around 
 the stump, and jammed the bow into the sprouts. He 
 then dropped the oars, and sprang forward to secure 
 the game. 
 
 His haste was unfortunate ; for, though he grasped 
 at the small limbs quickly enough to have held the 
 boat in place if it had not been in motion, his impetus 
 was so great that the unsteady skiff recoiled backward 
 with a force that pitched him over the prow, upon the 
 ¥ery top of the stub. He lurched off to one side,, and 
 
$8 
 
 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 his feet and legs splashed into the water; but he 
 escaped a complete ducking by clenching the top of the 
 trunk with his left arm, while with his right hand he 
 grasped (me foot of the leaver! And then he glanced 
 around for his boat. 
 
 It was gone, and had left him in a most perilous 
 situation. The light skiff, impelled by the force of his 
 
 Mortimer looked after it in utter dismay. — Page 58. 
 
 fall out of it, had floated back into the current, and 
 was already more than a dozen yards out, moving down 
 stream. 
 
 Mortimer looked after it in utter dismay. 
 
 It was now too Jate to make a swim for it ; he could 
 never live in that strong, icy current long enough to 
 roach it. 
 
 With a few cautious hitches he succeeded in gaining 
 a ticklish seat upon the broken top of the stump, where 
 
f-KONTIES SKETCHM. iW 
 
 he maintained himself by resting his feet upon two of the 
 stoutest sprouts. Seated thus, he could feel an unsteady 
 quivering of the trunk, a trembling, wrenching motion, 
 that told, but too plainly, of the powerful force of the 
 flood, and of the uncertain tenure which he possessed 
 on even this comfortless refuge. 
 
 The lad was now thoroughly alarmed, and surveyed 
 his surroundings with a growing fear that gained not 
 a ray of hope from the prospect. The situation was 
 truly a grave one. 
 
 On all sides was the hurrying flow of the grim, dark 
 waters, which rushed swirling and eddying onward, 
 The current swashed dismally among the slender, 
 swaying willows, on either side ; and beyond these, he 
 knew that there was at least three hundred yards of 
 swimming depth before either shore could be reached. 
 
 If any one should happen to pass, he could not, from 
 the land, see Mortimer, on account of the willows. 
 The nearest house was three or four miles distant; and 
 a voice could be heard but a little distance, above the 
 swash of the flood and the rush of the cold wind. 
 
 Mortimer's parents did not expect him to return 
 until late in the evening, and they would probably 
 make no effort to learn of his whereabouts until after 
 midnight. The night, too, was already growing very 
 cold, with a raw, gusty wind that soughed drearily 
 among the willows ; his bare hands and wet feet were 
 fast becoming chilled and numb. 
 
 All the desolation, helplessness and misery of the 
 situation were forced upon him by that keen and 
 merciless power of reflection which so often attacks 
 the mind in moments of extreme peril or of sudden 
 disaster. 
 
51 ' wEowi'im mmww* 
 
 He saw bat toe plainly that it was useless to look £01 
 rescue before morning, and, clinging there to his bleak 
 and uncertain perch, he felt that he would assuredly 
 chill to death in a few hours. 
 
 Looking out into the gloom of the coming dusk, with 
 the long, black, freezing night staring him in the face, 
 tears gathered in the poor fellow's eyes, and a lump of 
 choking misery rose up in his throat. Yet he was a 
 brave fellow, who had never been known to yield an 
 inch before any danger which must be met, when the 
 balance of probabilities was adjusted with any degree 
 of fairness. In this case, the probabilities were all on 
 one side, and that side was against him. 
 
 "There just aint any chance for me at all," he 
 groaned, at length. " I'm in a much worse predica- 
 ment than the beaver and muskrats ; for if they do 
 get killed, it's so sudden they don't know it, but I've 
 got to die by inches. I've just got to sit here and 
 freeze a little at a time, till I fall off and finish life by 
 drowning." 
 
 A wretched enough prospect ! Yet that was the fate 
 which seemed certainly awaiting him. "Wet as he was, 
 and already shivering, with no chance for exercise, 
 there seemed little chance of surviving the cold, dismal 
 night. 
 
 Sitting in hopeless suffering, he peered about him 
 again and again in the gathering darkness, in the vain 
 hope of discovering something .that could give him an 
 atom of comfort. Then, whipping his numbed hands 
 about his shoulders until they tingled, he attemped to 
 remove his soaked and stiffening boots ; but, owing to his 
 shaky and uncertain seat, he was baffled in this effort 
 also. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. tfi 
 
 Then, with feet and legs growing every moment 
 more numb, he sat* clinging with one hand to the stump, 
 whipping the other, shouting at intervals, and waiting 
 for — he dared not think what. 
 
 An hour passed; then another; dumb, dreary despair 
 had settled upon his mind. Insensibly he fell into a 
 half-frozen stupor. He was beginning to think, in a 
 numb way, that it did not make any particular differ- 
 ence to him what happened now. 
 
 An hour or more dragged by thus sluggishly, then 
 a sudden shock, accompanied by a grinding noise, 
 threw him partly off the stump. Instinctively he 
 clutched the sprouts with his chilled fingers, but slid 
 down, expecting to sink in the cold waters. 
 
 But he struck something solid and white. It was a 
 large ice-cake, which had come floating down the river 
 and touched the elm stump. The jar of his fall roused 
 the boy ; he staggered to his feet, feeling strange in his 
 head, and with queer and painful sensations about the 
 arms and shoulders. 
 
 He tried to step,' but at first it seemed as if his feet 
 must be frozen ; yet, after stamping about for a few 
 minutes, they began to lose their feeling of lumpishness 
 and to prickle. 
 
 He then sat down upon the ice, and, after a struggle, 
 worked off his boots, squeezed the water from his socks, 
 and chafed and pounded his feet until they felt alive. 
 This done, he got up and looked around ; and hope 
 revived within him. 
 
 The ice-cake was a large andi solid one, twenty feet 
 across at least ; and, owing to the falling of the river, 
 it was floating down the centre of the channel H© 
 
62 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 was, at least, floating toward home; and there was 
 room to stamp about and keep from freezing. 
 
 Mortimer's spirits rose with the renewed circulation 
 of the blood. He shouted, beat his arms about his chest, 
 he even danced, the better to warm himself up again. 
 
 It seemed to him now that he was being guided by 
 fate. He then became confused in mind — dazed, as it 
 were. In odd vagary, as his ice-raft floated on down 
 the river, he peopled the darkness about him with 
 imaginary foes, and "squared off" at them pugnaci- 
 ously. His blood warming with this exercise, he began 
 delivering in grandiloquent tones the address which he 
 had declaimed at school, when a voice from the dark- 
 ness near at hand brought him back to his situation. 
 
 " Mortimer ! " 
 
 " Halloo ! " he answered. 
 
 " Mortimer, is it you ? " 
 
 ." Is that you, father ? " cried the young castaway, 
 " have you got a boat % " 
 
 " Yes," replied Mr. Halleck ; " but we have been 
 alarmed. What has kept — " 
 
 " Paddle your skiff this way, father. Here, this way; 
 I'm on a cake of ice. " 
 
 " On a cake of ice ! " cried Mr. Halleck. " I knew 
 you were in some trouble. What has happened? I 
 borrowed Neighbor Wescott's boat, and was going to 
 cross over to see if you were at Morley's with Pete, 
 when I heard your voice." 
 
 Mortimer was astonished to find he had already 
 drifted so far. 
 
 " How much longer could you have stood it % " Mr. 
 Halleck asked, in tones that trembled a little. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. W 
 
 "Not another half-hour," Mortimer declared, and 
 probably he was right. 
 
 Next day he succeeded in finding his boat, safely 
 lodged among some willows ; but the beaver was miss- 
 ing, having probably, been jarred off the nest on the 
 stub by the ice-cake striking against it. 
 
 The river had lowered considerably, and Mortimer, 
 while searching for his boat, saw numerous ice-rafts 
 moving down the channel ; yet he could not repress a 
 conviction that something more than mere good fortune 
 had directed the ice-cake to touch at his bleak and 
 comfortless perch in the nick of time to save his life. 
 
THE MYSTERY OP THE VALLEY. 
 
 Among the earliest settlers on the Wisconsin river 
 was Robert Wheaton — now one of the wealthiest 
 farmers of the State— who, with his pretty young 
 wife, Jennie, came up into the Winnecon Valley to 
 make a home about the year 1850. There was 
 this difference between the Wheatons and many others 
 of the pioneers here : Robert and Jennie settled there 
 t6 stay, while too many of the " old Winneconers,** 
 yielding to temporary discouragements, drifted away 
 with the ever-moving tide of Westward migration. 
 
 Robert, like all " old settlers," greatly delighted to 
 tell of the hardships of those early times, when he and 
 Jennie came to live in the new log-house in one of the 
 Winnecon "pockets/* or side valleys between the 
 bluffs. 
 
 One midsummer evening, just at twilight, Robert sat 
 milking his cow in the little yard back of his ®h9&j 
 when someone near the fence surprised him with,-*- 
 
 " Good-e'en, Meester W'eSton ! Ha ? ye sean th' 
 broout baast yit? " 
 
 Robert knew the voice, and looking up, saw " Big 
 Jim " Hodgson, as he was known, leaning his elbow 
 upon the fence. Hodgson was an Englishman, with a 
 large family, and in person an enormous man of si* 
 and a half feet in height, who spoke the North of Eng- 
 land dialect, in a voice as rough and guttural as the 
 rumbling of a cart-wheel. The Winnecon people 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 65 
 
 among whom he had settled had nick-named him " Big 
 Jim." 
 
 He was a brave, good-natured man, but somewhat 
 inclined to be superstitious. 
 
 " Hullo, Hodgson ! " Eobert exclaimed. " What 
 brute are you talking about ? I haven't seen any one." 
 
 Big Jim explained. There was a strong flavor of 
 hobgoblin belief in ; his gruff, deep tones, as he related 
 how;a strange creature had been seen in the valley 
 roads and along the cow-paths during the past week. 
 One of the Carter girls had seen it up on the " bluff 
 path," between Cat Rock and the Twin Oaks. It 
 was a large, gray, shaggy creature, which, issuing from 
 the brush, had followed the girl as she drove home the 
 cows. She was naturally much terrified, yet she dared 
 not run, and the " broout baast " had followed her 
 silently, until she had gone past the Twin Oaks, down 
 to the upper end of Carter's rye-patch. 
 
 There it had left her and walked off into the woods, 
 and she had rushed home with the cows, and gone to 
 bed in a high fever. 
 
 Continuing his account, Big Jim related how, on Sun- 
 day evening, the thing had followed the Mulrony boys 
 down through the gap road. 
 
 " They were on horse-back," he said, " a-coomen' doon 
 on a spaarkin' veesit to Carter's ; and the brout baast 
 'ad coom oop a-hint their 'orses, 'n' nigh scahed th' 
 seensus oot o J urn." 
 
 Nor was that all, for last evening, just at dusk, his 
 own little girl, May, had seen it cross the turnip-patch 
 up in the " notch " on the side of the bluff above the 
 house. It Went across the "patch from one point of 
 timber to the other like a streak of gray light, seeming 1 
 
66 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 not to touch the ground with its feet, and " hit warn't 
 nowt loike onythink at all she 'ad e'er sean." 
 
 " Waat do Muster Weaton think o' that, now ? " 
 
 The question had in its tones a strong touch of exul- 
 tation, for hadn't Robert Wheaton always "toorned 
 up 's noase at onythink at all as was onnaateral \ " 
 
 Robert laughed, not so much at the information, as 
 at Hodgson's tones. He soon grew sober again, how- 
 ever. 
 
 " We must look after that animal, I think, Jim," he 
 said. " ^'m inclined to believe, from what you say of 
 the beast and its actions, that we've got a panther 
 sneaking about our neighborhood." 
 
 "Mought bea," returned Jim, a little miffed; "but 
 I'se un as b'leaves traaps'll no hoald un, an' bullut's'll 
 no hoort un," and he walked off toward his home swing- 
 ing a heavy club as he went. 
 
 " Evidence in his hand against the belief in his head," 
 chuckled Robert, who went in with his pail of milk, and 
 told Jennie about the " broout baast." 
 
 " Some stray panther, I expect," he said, in conclu- 
 sion, " or a big timber-wolf, that's prowling about after 
 pigs and chickens." 
 
 A week from the following Sabbath there was 
 " preaching " at the new log school-house. Rob and 
 Jennie attended, and after the service their ears were 
 filled with excited questions, and with remarkable 
 statements about the " broot baste," as the strange 
 creature had already come to be called, this name being 
 an American perversion of Big Jim's North English 
 tongue. 
 
 Every one wanted to know whether Robert had yet 
 seen the " thing." Not a few affirmed that they had 
 
FRONTIER. SKETCHES. 67 
 
 seen it— always after dark—and it had each time fol- 
 lowed silently a little way, and then, as they drew near 
 houses or openings, it had slunk away into the woods. 
 For a fortnight it had followed some one nearly every 
 night. Even the itinerant preacher grew interested. 
 
 " Must be a dangerous creature of some kind, Robert," 
 he said, addressing Wheaton ; " a wild animal, of course, 
 and you had better trap it." 
 
 Nothing, however, could convince Big Jim that the 
 creature was not an uncanny brute ; and old Granny 
 Bates, who was born before the Revolution, declared 
 her belief that it was " some creatur' bewitched." 
 
 Robert promised to try his hand at trapping it, and 
 went home. In less than a week he had seven large 
 double-spring traps, baited and carefully set at different 
 points in the bluffs where the strange object had been 
 seen. 
 
 He had to neglect his work somewhat in order to 
 make the round of these traps ; and as they were not 
 disturbed during the whole of this time, the affair 
 proved most annoying to him. At last he grew sceptical 
 about the matter, and took his traps home, declaring 
 that he " wouldn't trap for shadows any longer." 
 
 'Somebody," he said to Jennie, "has started a 
 ridiculous story about the creature, and now everybody 
 that sees a dog come out into the road after dark imag- 
 ines, it's the ' broot baste.' I've found a few fresh wolf- 
 tracks, but there's no sign of any strange animal, that 
 I can see." 
 
 But tidings of the "broot baste" did not cease. 
 Scarcely a week passed that some one in the valley or 
 among the bluffs did not have a fresh story to relate of 
 the oddly-behaving creature. It was often seen close 
 
68 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 to houses, at night-fall, but generally made its appear- 
 ance to women and children. 
 
 As the creature never offered to molest any .one, and 
 spared the pigs and chickens, people ceased to fear it 
 and only wondered what it could be. 
 
 But Robert remained sceptical as to its existence* 
 and the matter continued to be a mystery. 
 
 Late that fall, after the first snow, which came early, 
 there began to be heard strange yelps and cries nearly 
 every night among the hills. These were most 
 " unearthly noises," the people said who heard them. 
 Robert only laughed at these reports. " Wolves always 
 howl during the first cold snap," he said. 
 
 But one night Jennie and he were awakened by what 
 was, in very truth, a most frightful yelping, which came 
 from the bluff, just above their stable. They listened 
 awhile; and Robert was compelled to admit that he 
 " never had heard such an outcry as that from any liv- 
 ing creature before." 
 
 The cries seemed to be half-way between the quick 
 velps of a frightened dog and the prolonged howl of a 
 timber-wolf, only more wild, weird and mournful than 
 either of those sounds. 
 
 Robert took his gun and went out ; but the howling 
 stopped immediately, and it was so dark that he could 
 see nothing. 
 
 The next night the creature came and howled in the 
 same place, and earlier in the evening, but it became 
 quiet the moment Robert stepped outside the house. 
 Wheaton's curiosity was fairly aroused. 
 
 He tried to find its tracks the next morning ; but the 
 snow had now nearly all melted and the ground was 
 frozen again. He said nothing to his neighbors, but 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 69 
 
 determined to outwit and kill the beast, in some way. 
 But though he again set his traps and baited them 
 invitingly with fresh meat, night after night passed 
 and the howling increased, yet the traps remained 
 empty. 
 
 Then he tried hiding out in the brush, lying in wait 
 with his gun, but the animal did not appear, and that 
 stratagem failed. 
 
 But one night, early in December, the mystery was 
 explained in the most unexpected manner. " Young 
 John," a Winnebago trapper, solved it for them. 
 
 Young John, as he was called by the white settlers, 
 was an Indian who, for some offense, was under the 
 ban of his tribe, and who subsisted by trapping and 
 hunting along the Wisconsin. 
 
 He could speak broken English, and he evinced a 
 liking for Robert Wheaton, who had taught him many 
 useful things. Hence he often came to Robert's place 
 and slept on the house-floor at night. Generally he ate 
 supper with Robert and Jennie, but he always left 
 before the latter awoke in the morning. 
 
 One evening, about three weeks after they had been 
 so disturbed by the howlings of the " broot baste," 
 Young John came to the house, and, as usual, took 
 supper with them, haying brought his blanket, pre- 
 pared to sleep on the floor. 
 
 After supper, when Robert had finished his "chores," 
 he sat by the fire with Young John, as they had been 
 in the habit of doing, telling stories, when on a sudden 
 the "broot baste" set, up a series of its wild, mournful 
 cries, in the same place on the bluff above the stable. 
 
 They had not heard it there for several nights; and 
 
70 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 Robert had not yet mentioned the creature's doings to 
 Young John. 
 
 On hearing the sounds, the Indian started and lis- 
 tened for a moment most intently, while Robert and 
 Jennie exchanged meaning glances. But Young John's 
 next move surprised them ; for after listening for a 
 moment or two, the Indian gave a most expressive gut- 
 tural grunt of mixed astonishment and satisfaction, 
 then abruptly strode to the door, threw it open, and 
 placing two fingers between his lips, blew a shrill, ear- 
 piercing whistle. 
 
 The howlings stopped. 
 
 He repeated the whistle, then stalked out into the 
 darkness. Robert and Jennie followed him to the 
 door, and peered out curiously. 
 
 It was light enough for them to see the Indian, as 
 he stopped near the corner of the stable ; and then 
 they saw a strange, shadowy creature come bounding 
 down the hill and throw itself on the ground, with piti- 
 ful whines, at Young John's feet. 
 
 He stooped over and seemed to be petting it, and 
 talking to it in the "Winnebago tongue, for a few sec- 
 onds. Then he came back to the house ; and the crea- 
 ture followed whining and leaping at his heels, until he 
 had nearly reached the door, when it slunk quickly 
 away out of sight again. 
 
 Robert and his wife were quite prepared for Young 
 John's announcement, as he came up to the door. 
 
 "Me dog," he said. {t Me lose um las' spling clossin' 
 liver. Him heap 'fraid white man's." 
 
 He made no further comment, and his hearers said 
 nothing. They remembered perfectly well the shy, 
 large, gaunt, grizzled wolf-dog which had always been 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES, 71 
 
 with him, and had always refused to come near the 
 house, on his previous visits. 
 
 Jennie at once offered the Indian some victuals, to 
 feed the animal , but Young John said : " No, him eat 
 plenty labbit." 
 
 The Wheatons had a quiet laugh over the solution 
 of the strange affair. Next morning the Indian and 
 his dog had disappeared. 
 
 The "broot baste" and its antics were from that 
 time forth things of the past; and the neighbors 
 enjoyed the explanation as much as did Eobert and 
 Jennie. 
 
 mil 
 
 3«f! s.rjf ,-jv j 
 
VII. 
 
 FOLLOWED. 
 
 The most desperate and lawless men to be found in 
 the West — I speak from twenty years' experience on 
 the plains — are the gamblers, confidence men and 
 robbers who follow the "end of track" when a rail- 
 way is pushing through new and unsettled territory. 
 
 At every side-track a new town springs into exist- 
 ence, so suddenly as to suggest the Western expression 
 " dropped there by a cyclone." At each of these new 
 communities the first-comers are y usually men of the 
 kind I have mentioned. 
 
 Along the road-bed, wherever a siding is to be laid, 
 a dozen or more big tents, respectively labeled 
 " Saloon," " Dance House," sometimes very appropri- 
 ately, "Satan's Hole" or the "Devil's Den," are 
 always found set up in advance of the arrival of the 
 track-layers. 
 
 A certain harvest awaits the owners of these grog- 
 geries, as the "railroader," of a certain class, takes 
 his "time" from his foreman at frequent intervals, in 
 order that he may cash his "time check" at the 
 nearest saloon and gambling-place. 
 
 He quickly squanders the proceeds of his check in 
 drink and play, or is robbed of them, lies about in a 
 stupid condition for a day or two, and then goes to 
 work again, penniless. 
 
 Such a person accepts all the evils of this mode of 
 life with a philosophy that would be commendable if 
 Lhown under adversity of a different sort. A shirt, 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 73 
 
 pantaloons, shoes, and a slouch hat usually comprise 
 the whole of his possessions, and so long as he can 
 get the means to satisfy a periodic appetite for 
 drunken excitement, he seems to be contented with 
 his lot. 
 
 This description of a large class of railroad laborers, 
 it should be distinctly noted, does not apply to the 
 many sober, steady fellows who save the large wages 
 they get, and often settle and become prosperous 
 citizens in the country they have helped to open to 
 civilization. 
 
 It is upon the earnings of floating, dissolute wage- 
 workers of the track and grade that the gambler, 
 whisky seller and assassin thrive, and, to secure their 
 plunder, they follow the progress of a new railway like 
 vultures in search of prey. , 
 
 The day-laborer upon these pioneer roads is not the 
 only victim of the robber and sharper. It is unsafe for 
 any man who visits one of their mushroom towns to 
 let the fact be known that he has a considerable sum 
 of money in his possession. 
 
 Yet men who know the nature of the dangers about 
 them sometimes neglect to take proper precaution to 
 insure the safety of money in their charge, and thus 
 the writer allowed himself to be caught, two years 
 ago, in a " snap " that came near ending his career, and 
 that taught him a lesson in caution which he hopes 
 will never again be needed, at least by him. 
 
 I was acting as paymaster and chief commissary 
 clerk for a firm of grade contractors upon the North- 
 western road, which was then pushing through north- 
 ern Nebraska into the adjacent territory of Wyoming. 
 
 We were doing some heavy grading and rock work, 
 
74 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 and with a large force were pushing the work day and 
 night in order to get out of the way of the track, 
 which had then advanced to a point within a day's ride 
 of us. 
 
 We had let pay-day slip by without paying the men, 
 and hoped to satisfy them by the issue of time-checks 
 until the track should overtake us, and our money 
 could come to us with little risk on the construction 
 train. But, three or four days after " paying-off " time, 
 some of the men began to grow suspicious and to 
 grumble, and threatened to quit work until their checks 
 were cashed. They were afraid we might somehow 
 slip up on them and they wouldn't get their money. 
 
 As we were in desperate need of every available 
 hand, it was necessary that the men should be satisfied. 
 So it was determined that I should go to Chadron, our 
 supply base and banking point, and bring up enough 
 money to pay the men their last month's wages, which 
 amounted to about four thousand dollars. 
 
 I decided to go alone. I set out that night on 
 horseback, and I reached the " end of track " at Craw- 
 ford siding the next morning in time to leave my horse 
 at a neighboring ranch corral and get aboard a supply 
 train which had just unloaded and was now going 
 back. 
 
 At Chadron the supply store of the main contractor, 
 a huge, roughly built shed, stood at a side track about 
 forty rods from the main street of the town. Here I 
 was accustomed to order supplies and get drafts for 
 money from the book-keeper from time to time. 
 
 That morning, after finishing my business with the 
 
 supply department, I went to the book-keeper to pro- 
 
 a draft. A. crowd of railroad laborers were wait- 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 75 
 
 ing before his window to get their time-checks cashed, 
 or secure passes to go up or down the road. I noticed 
 that two of these men were better dressed than the 
 others, but thought nothing of the circumstance. 
 
 I awaited my turn at the window, and handed the 
 book-keeper a slip of paper on which was written, 
 " Four thousand three hundred and forty-seven dol- 
 lars and fifty cents, Pay Roll — Rodney and Curtis." 
 He made me a draft for the amount named, folded it 
 carelessly, thrust it through the window, and took the 
 receipt which I had just written, and then turned to 
 the next man. 
 
 As I left the store I passed the two men whom I 
 had noticed at the window, and it struck me, upon a 
 more attentive view, that they were rather sharpers 
 than workingmen, although I had seen them cash two 
 time-checks and get passes for some point up the road. 
 The construction train did not leave until three o'clock 
 that afternoon, and I lounged upon the shady stoop of 
 the Chadron House watching the passers-by and chat- 
 ting with the landlord, who was an old acquaintance 
 of mine when I lived in the East. I had a pleasant 
 dinner with him, and after the meal was finished, I 
 walked across the square to Lake & Haley's bank, 
 at the corner of the two principal streets of the town, 
 where I cashed the draft. 
 
 The bills which I received I stuffed into various side 
 pockets of my clothes, and stowed a sack of silver 
 change into a small leather " grip " which I carried in 
 my hand. 
 
 I heard a locomotive whistle and, turning, walked 
 quickly out of the bank. As I reached the sidewalk 
 I was startled to see the two men who had before 
 
76 FBONTIER SKETCHES 
 
 attracted my notice step rather hastily away from the 
 sidewalk in front of the bank windows and walk across 
 the street. 
 
 I was satisfied that they had watched me as I cashed 
 my draft. My suspicions were thoroughly aroused by 
 this circumstance, and when, an hour later, I stepped 
 into the caboose of the construction train, and discov- 
 ered the men lounging upon two cracker barrels smok- 
 ing their pipes, it did not need their evident avoidance 
 of the direct stare I gave them, the moment I entered, 
 to convince me that they were after me. 
 
 I had heartily berated myself for not having exer- 
 cised greater caution while at Chadron. I should have 
 waited until I could see the book-keeper alone before 
 I obtained my check, and should have had my cash 
 made up by the clerk at the bank, and brought to my 
 room at the hotel, as might easily have been done. 
 But it is easy enough, after you have done a foolish 
 thing, to think how much better you might have man- 
 aged it. 
 
 While Tsat upon one of the hand benches in the 
 caboose, with my "grip" lying beneath the seat, I 
 considered how I should dodge the two fellows at 
 Crawford. There was no danger that I should be robbed 
 on the train, as there were at least twenty passengers 
 on boardl Presently one of the men sauntered up to 
 my seat, sat down by me, and began to talk. 
 
 "See?" said he; "you ? r with Rodney an' Curtis, 
 aint yen, one o' their foremen ? " 
 
 I answered carelessly that I was in their employ. 
 
 " Paul 'n' I's goin' up the road lookin' fur a rock job. 
 We're strikers. Could ye hire us, d'ye think % " 
 
 " Certainly," said I ; " we need more badly, especially 
 
4 FEONTIER SKETCHES. 77 
 
 good strikers. Will give you two dollars a day, and 
 you can work a part of the night shift, if you like." 
 
 Then, /as unconcernedly as I could, Iwent on to tell 
 him about our work, and directed him how to find our 
 headquarters. I told him I should leave Crawford after 
 breakfast the next morning on horseback, and that he 
 and his partner could undoubtedly find a freight wagon 
 there on which to take passage for our camp. 
 
 After some further conversation with the man — a 
 young-looking, wiry, dark-faced fellow — he went over 
 to talk to his " pard," and no doubt they congratulated 
 themselves on his success in throwing me off my 
 guard. 
 
 On my arrival at Crawford I went to the company's 
 tent, where food and other supplies brought on the 
 construction trains were stored until they could be 
 shipped forward by wagon to points where our forces 
 were at work. There I explained the situation to the 
 two clerks in charge of the tent, and said that I wished 
 to spend the night with them. 
 
 I was armed with a good "six-shooter," and the 
 clerks had each a light Winchester rifle. They said we 
 could guard the money without trouble that night, and 
 it was arranged that I should start for the grading 
 camp at three o'clock the next morning. By leaving 
 i at so early an hour I believed that I could baffle pur- 
 suit by any robbers who might have conspired to fol- 
 low me. 
 
 My pony — a tough Oregon half-breed — was picketed 
 that evening behind the supply tent, and the clerks and 
 I took turns in sitting on guard at the opening of the 
 tent. I saw nothing of the two "strikers" after we 
 left the train, and no suspicious person approached the 
 
78 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 tent that night. I shifted the silver from my " grip " 
 into a pair of saddle-bags, and, armed with my revolver 
 and a borrowed Winchester rifle and a belt of cart- 
 ridges, mounted my pony at three o'clock the next 
 morning to complete my journey. 
 
 Day was just breaking when I came to the fork of 
 the trail at Fort Robinson, two miles out from Crawford 
 siding. Both routes led to the grading camp, — one 
 trail lay through White Kiver canon and the other led 
 to my destination by way of Driftwood. One of these 
 routes I must take, and as the men who were "shadow- 
 ing" me believed that I would proceed by way of 
 Driftwood I chose the White Kiver canon route, a 
 rough, new trail that for seventeen miles led through a 
 tumbled, rocky gorge or canon in the bottom of which 
 rippled merrily the little streamlet that is the beginning 
 of the White River. 
 
 I urged my pony forward at a good pace until, after 
 sunrise, I passed a camp of freighters who were prepar- 
 ing their breakfast, and later met several wagons on 
 the move, which relieved the loneliness of my ride and 
 caused me to feel more secure. As the morning was 
 hot and oppressive I now proceeded more slowly. 
 
 About half an hour after meeting the freighters I 
 halted at one of the numerous creek crossings, and dis- 
 mounted to drink and to eat a part of the lunch of 
 crackers and dried beef which I had brought from the 
 commissary tent. As I had no cup I stretched myself 
 out upon the rocks at the edge of the current, and 
 buried my nose in the cool water of the spring-fed 
 stream. 
 
 As I lay drinking, with my head just above the water, 
 a distant sound of horses' hoofs struck on my ear. I 
 
FBONTIBR SKETCHES. 79 
 
 ceased to drink, listened intently, and soon heard dis- 
 tinctly the noise of horsemen coming rapidly up the 
 canon. 
 
 I sprang to my feet in axarm. My first impulse was 
 to mount my pony and apply the spurs, but as his gait, 
 a racking gallop, was a very slow one, I came to the 
 sudden conclusion to dodge into the brush and let the 
 horsemen, whoever they were, go by. There were a 
 few box alder-trees and several clusters of plum-bush 
 close under the rocks on the right. I grasped the 
 bronco's rein and led him in behind the thickets of 
 thorn and tied him. 
 
 I had little time to think or act before the horsemen 
 came up at a gallop ; I peered through the leaves as they 
 rattled on, and discovered that there were six riders 
 and that the two strikers were in the lead. They 
 passed my hiding-place without an apparent suspicion 
 that I was concealed there, and, though still much 
 alarmed, I was congratulating myself that I had out- 
 witted them when, just as they rode into the water, my 
 pony lifted up his head and uttered a shrill, inquiring 
 whinny. 
 
 The party instantly halted. Every rider turned his 
 face eagerly in my direction, and a half dozen rifles and 
 revolvers were jerked into readiness for action. My 
 pony whinnied again before I could get a grip upon his 
 muzzle, and I felt that unless some unexpectedly fortu- 
 nate circumstance intervened I should lose the money 
 and probably my life. The horsemen were determined, 
 villainous-looking men, and as I glanced about I saw 
 they had a great advantage over me. The scattered 
 patches of pine scrub on the steep bare sides of the 
 gorge offered me but little shelter for a retreat, and the 
 
so 
 
 EBONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 I thrust the Winchester through the tops of a plum bush and 
 fired."— Page 61. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. el 
 
 bushes behind which I stood were but a slight protection 
 against heavy bullets. At the second whinny of my 
 horse the men dismounted and stood behind their 
 animals. 
 
 "He's in there, sure," I heard one of them say. 
 " Spread out, boys, an* let's surround them bushes." 
 
 Without waiting to hear any more I thrust the Win- 
 chester , through the tops of a plum bush and fired at 
 their nearest horse, aiming at its body back df the 
 shoulder. The animal went down with a groan, and 
 the man behind it sprang back with a fierce oath. 
 
 My only hope now was in swift action and certain 
 aim. A quick motion of the lever re-loaded and cocked 
 my Winchester, and almost before the horse had fallen 
 to the ground I had aimed and fired at the fellow as he 
 turned to run for cover. 
 
 He fell, but got up and ran again. Shifting my aim, 
 I opened a rapid fire upon the other horses and men. 
 The robbers returned a few hasty and ineffectual shots, 
 and then scattered in flight. When I had fired the 
 seventeen shots, which emptied my repeating rifle, three 
 horses lay on the borders of the canon at various dis- 
 tances away, and one man with a broken leg was 
 dragging himself toward the shelter of the creek bank. 
 His companions had fled down the canon, two on foot 
 and the others on horseback. Three or four of 
 their shots had struck in the brush about me, but none 
 had hit me. 
 
 The sudden, fierce determination which had seized 
 upon me, and the swift, effective firing which followed, 
 were as much a surprise to myself as they could have 
 been to the "road agents," who no doubt believed there 
 was more than one shooter behind the bushes that 
 
82 MiONTIEK SKETCHES. 
 
 sheltered me. I dared not stop to look after the 
 wounded man, who undoubtedly would have fired at 
 me if I had approached him. Mounting my pony and 
 keeping as much as possible under cover of bushes, I 
 rode my animal at his best speed up the canon. 
 
 About five miles from the scene of the shooting I 
 came upon a grader's camp, and sent some of the men 
 to look after the wounded robber and to secure the 
 saddles of the fallen horses. 
 
 I afterwards learned that they got the saddles but 
 
 could find nothing of the man. 
 
 H. H. Cummacf, 
 
vm. 
 
 OLAP HBLGBRSON'S PAY. 
 
 \ 
 
 There were rough times occasionally on the street of 
 Jimtown when big Olaf Helgerson and his friends 
 came in from the Upper Ussawau Lake and made 
 themselves drunk with alcohol and water— not that the 
 water stirred their bloojl or fired their brains. The 
 Norse settlers of James county generally were of that 
 sober and industrious sort who have borne such a large 
 share in breaking up the great prairies of the North- 
 west and subduing this big wilderness. But among 
 this people, as among all others, there is more or less 
 " bad blood," only in this case it showed itself boldly 
 and badly in the carousings of Olaf and Gulik Helger- 
 son and their neighbors, the Larsens and Joraegs. 
 
 One blustering day in December some dozen years 
 ago they came, a half-dozen of them, to town, and 
 began drinking and soon grew riotous. Up and down 
 the single street of Jimtown they caroused from one 
 saloon to another, pouring down fiery alcohol until their 
 faces flamed and their brains reeled, and they swaggered 
 along the sidewalk kicking and cuffing at each other 
 and threatening everyone else who had the hardihood 
 to meet them. 
 
 The town people kept indoors, and no one thought of 
 making an arrest. The town depended for its main 
 support upon the Norse trade, and so a Norse frolic was 
 not to be interfered with. 
 
 That afternoon, though, matters >' came to a head," 
 and the men came out of their stores and shops and 
 
84 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 overawed the rough Norwegians, drunk as they were. 
 It happened in this wise : Kneut Halvorsen, a Norse 
 lad living at the Lower Ussawau Lake, came in that 
 afternoon to get mail and some medicine for his 
 mother, who was ailing with rheumatism. 
 
 The post-office was kept at " Iliff's " drug store, and 
 as Kneut stepped in there were a number of loafers 
 seated about the big box-stove' listening to one of " Old 
 Iliff's " many stories. The old man paused in his nar- 
 rations and spoke to Kneut. 
 
 "Kneut/' said he, "Helgerson and his crowd, I 
 s'pose you know, are in town t'day, but mebby ye 
 didn't know that they're drunk as loons and knockin' 
 everybody off the walks ? Better git yer mail 'n* go 
 right home." 
 
 " Faal," said Kneut," I ton't alfays pe koin to run af ay 
 fon Olaf Helgerson. I kot me yust so koot a ride to 
 keep een te town uss he haf. 
 
 " Wall," replied the old man, " I was only givin' ye 
 fair warnin' ;" and he resumed his story. But bis hear- 
 ers' interest flagged, in view of Kneut's combative 
 spirit, and while Tom II iff, Jr., was " putting up " a 
 prescription for Mrs. Halvorsen's rheumatism they 
 watched the young Norwegian curiously. 
 
 Presently Kneut turned from his purchases and left 
 the store. 
 
 " There'll be a fight, sure," said one of the loungers ; 
 and he went to one of the front windows and scratched 
 the frost from a pane that he might look out upon the 
 street. 
 
 The quarrel of Helgerson with the Halvorsens had 
 long since become common stock in Jimtown's affairs 
 of local interest, and dated back to the first Norse set- 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 85 
 
 tlement of James county, when Kneut and Gus Hal- 
 vorsen were lads. It came about by the death of widow 
 Halvorsen's brother, Eric Brakstead, who owed Olaf 
 Helgerson for a yoke of oxen. Eric's claim joined that 
 of his sister, and they lived together-and helped each 
 other in improving their new land. Kneut and Gus 
 were old enough to drive teams, and the widow had two 
 yoke of oxen of her own, their interests being kept sep- 
 arate, although they worked often together. In the 
 spring Eric had bought a yoke of steers of Olaf Hel- 
 gerson, giving a note due in six months, when he 
 expected his wheat harvest would enable him to pay it. 
 
 Bad luck followed. In June one of the steers was 
 struck by lightning, grasshoppers came and devoured 
 the growing wheat, and that same autumn poor Eric 
 was taken with typhoid fever and died, leaving his 
 claim to be immediately jumped by the first land-seeker. 
 Helgerson went to the widow with Eric's note and 
 demanded payment when it came due. She informed 
 her neighbor that her poor brother had died owing her 
 money, and that it would be impossible for her to pay 
 his other debts ; but she told him there was the other 
 ox left, which, of course, she should expect him to take. 
 
 Eric went away in a great rage and immediately 
 brought suit against her. The jury, of course, returned 
 him his ox, but gave her the verdict. From that time 
 on Olaf Helgerson, a wild, rough, passionate fellow, 
 spared no pains to vent his hatred in all ways that he 
 dared against the widow and her boys. 
 
 He often threatened Kneut and Gus with terrible 
 threshings, but up till this December day he had never 
 touched either of them. The boys often met their 
 belligerent neighbor upon the road, at the Lutheran 
 
86 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 church between the lakes, or at other Norse gatherings. 
 However, they had for several years carefully avoided 
 going to town when they knew that Olaf would be 
 there, and as the road from Upper Ussawau to Jimtown 
 ran directly past their door they generally knew when 
 he went or returned. Indeed, they were very likely to 
 know when he came home, for he was nearly always 
 " in liquor " and would shout and curse at them or at 
 the house as he rode by. 
 
 But Kneut had grown large and strong as a man, and 
 he had heard Olaf s threats so often that they had 
 become tame; in fact, he had never been afraid of 
 Helgerson, but, knowing the latter's habit of drunken 
 brawling when in town, in keeping away he had acted 
 prudently and in accord with his mother's wishes. 
 Then, too, Olaf, who was a natural leader, had drawn a 
 rough crowd around him who generally shared his 
 drunken bouts and also his quarrels. 
 
 / Kneut was of a peaceable disposition, a hard-working 
 and honest lad, who desired no quarrel with any one. 
 But this day as he stepped out of " IlifFs " Olaf Helger- 
 son was coming down the opposite side of the street, 
 boisterously drunk and aggressive. He saw Kneut and 
 instantly started across, wading in the snow, wildly 
 swinging his arms and shouting all sorts of threats. 
 Gulik, Olaf's brother, Ole Larsen, and Snell Joraeg 
 followed. 
 
 At sight of them and at the word " coward," which 
 they shouted at him, Kneut's young blood boiled. 
 Regardless of consequences he stepped down from the 
 sidewalk and threw off his big knit scarf, his overcoat, 
 and sheep-skin mittens, and with clinched hands awaited 
 them. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 8f 
 
 " Will you pay me seventy-five dollars ? " shouted the 
 drunken Olaf, as lie came up ; he spoke in the Norse 
 tongue, and flourished his big fists at Kneut's face by 
 way of emphasizing the demand. 
 
 " No," replied Kneut ; ard, fiercely clinching, the two 
 whirled round and round, wrestling and jerking each 
 other about in the snow. 
 
 Kneut was strong and sober, and, being a good 
 wrestler, as soon as he "got his head" gave Olaf a 
 sudden trip and flung the tipsy fellow headlong in the 
 snow and then sprang upon him. Then, I suspect, had 
 it not been for his brother, with Ole and Snell, all too 
 brutally tipsy to think of fair play, Olaf Helgerson 
 would have received a sound hammering from Kneutfs 
 tough knuckles. But these three now pounced upon 
 Kneut, and, seizing him by the arms and legs^, tore him- 
 away from Olaf and began dragging him along the 
 street. Olaf staggered to his feet and came after them, 
 swearing loudly at Kneut and threatening dire venge- 
 ance. 
 
 But the man at Iliff's window, and a number of 
 others at various points on the street, had seen the 
 scuffle, and by that magic which draws people so quickly 
 together at exciting scenes, a crowd gathered and at- 
 tacked Kneut's tormentors, wrenching them away and 
 driving them from him. The plucky lad was bruised 
 severely in many places, where Olaf had brutally kicked 
 him, but the townsmen were roughly sympathetic, a 
 number of them insisting, in spite of his declaration that 
 he "fan't mooch hoorted,"on taking him into "IliffV 
 to have his hurts examined, and, if need be, dressed. 
 Others hunted up the constable and assisted the officer 
 
88 FBONTIBB SKETCHES. 
 
 to arrest the four drunken fellows and lock them in an 
 old coal-bin, which had been fitted up as a " calaboose." 
 
 Kneut's bruises were only black and blue spots on 
 his legs and one arm, and after Tom Iliff had rubbed 
 them well with a patent liniment he went out, got on 
 his horse, and set out for home. 
 
 On the road he had time to think coolly— very coolly, 
 if the weather were to be taken into consideration— and 
 in spite of the indignities he had received, he began to 
 regret that he had not walked rapidly off, as he might 
 have done, and get out of the way of Olaf. 
 
 " 1 had no business fighting with drunken brutes like 
 the Helgersons and those other fellows," he thought, 
 " and it will make mother feel badly." 
 
 But before reaching home he had something else to 
 think of ; the wind suddenly increased to a gale,the clouds 
 thickened and grew dark, and the snow came down in 
 stinging scuds, driving directly in his face. The storm 
 had come on a blizzard, and his horse, a young colt, 
 snorted wildly and shook his head in a protest against 
 facing it. Kneut urged the animal forward, as he had 
 several* miles yet to go, and knew from experience that 
 the storm was likely to increase in violence rapidly 
 until midnight or later. Keeping the colt at a stiff 
 trot, and bending forward to break the force of the , 
 blinding drift, he managed to keep the road, which, 
 lying in the path of the wind, was in most places 
 swept bare. He had nearly reached the outlet at the 
 foot of Lower Ussawau, when a team with a sleigh 
 attached came dashing up and passed him. 
 
 He knew the team at a glance. It was Olaf Helger- 
 son's and Olaf was lying in the bottom of the sleigh, 
 too drank, probably, to sit up, and one line was drag* 
 
FRONTIER SKETOHm BW 
 
 ging. The horses were going at a keen gallop, and, of 
 course, without any control ; they ran with their heads 
 low, snorting loudly, and evidently keeping the road by 
 instinct rather than sight. They were young spirited 
 animals, which Olaf had raised and of whose speed he 
 boasted greatly. 
 
 "They'll break his drunken neck befere he gets home 
 with them," thought Kneut, *' or they'll throw him out 
 where he'll freeze to death." This last catastrophe 
 seemed so probable that Kneut, in alarm, forgot, 
 all other feeling toward Olaf Helgerson, and whipped 
 his colt into a run to overtake the sleigh. 
 
 He came up with it just at the crossing of the outlet ; 
 here, when the sleighing was bad on the road, Helger- 
 son sometimes turned off and went home on an old 
 " hay road" which led through the marshes on the east 
 side of the lake, and here his team, no doubt sheering 
 off to avoid facing the storm directly, took up the old 
 trail which led along the east shore of Lower Ussawau. 
 There were no houses to be met in that direction for 
 several miles, the land being a succession of swamps 
 separated by " hard-head " ridges ; the region, several 
 miles in extent each way, was known as Lonesome 
 Township. 
 
 Kneut, alarmed at being turned away from the main 
 road even for a moment, ran his colt alongside the run' 
 aways, and tried to reach the bridle-rein of the nearest; 
 but the colt he rode, only half-broken, was both " skit- 
 tish" and unruly, and, try as he might, he could not get 
 the animal near enough to let him grasp a rein or a 
 line. He then made a desperate effort to get in front 
 of the flying horses and stop them ; but again the 
 unruly colt, frantic with his lashing and the pelting of 
 
90 
 
 '&BOETIRR SKETCHES*. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 11 
 
 the storm, proved intractable, and would only rear and 
 plunge in an effort to keep out of the way of the team. 
 
 Failing in this attempt Kneut reined up for a moment, 
 half tempted to let the team go with its helpless master, 
 trusting their instinct to get him home safely. But no, 
 he could not do that. Olaf was lying there like a log, 
 with his big buffalo coat on and also a robe thrown 
 partly over him ; but even if he were not freezing 
 already another half-hour of such stupor in a biting 
 storm, Kneut reasoned, would surely finish him. 
 
 The tipsy fellow had no doubt broken away from 
 his jail, or given bail, and had started for home, trust- 
 ing to his horses to take him through, as they had been 
 known to do on two or three occasions. !No; plainly 
 Kneut could not desert him in this howling storm, 
 with all that waste of country to traverse and no guide 
 but the instinct of dumb brutes. 
 
 All this came to the brave lad much more quickly 
 than I have written it, and no doubt in different form, 
 but, at any rate, he urged his colt forward in the trail 
 of the sleigh 5 determined to follow until a chance offered 
 for gaining control of the team. 
 
 Several times he attempted to ride alongside, with 
 the purpose of flinging himself out of the saddle and 
 into the sleigh-box, but the unmanageable colt each 
 time foiled him by plunging and floundering and fall- 
 ing back in the rear. 
 
 Presently, striking a long flat where the ground had 
 been burned bare by the fall fires, and the covering of 
 snow was light, Olaf's team quickened their pace to a 
 stiff run, and then for some minutes there followed a 
 race in which Kneut could barely keep in sight of the 
 runaways. The old hay-road had disappeared entirely, 
 
92 FEONTIEK SKETCHES. 
 
 and the storm was growing thicker every moment. 
 The snow whistled across, cutting Kneut's cheek as he 
 bent forward and filling space with a thick white dust 
 through which he had to strain his sight to penetrate 
 even the distance of a few rods. 
 
 It was a perilous, a despairing chase ; no road left, 
 the lake-shore out of sight, the direction no longer 
 certain, night coming on, and the furious blizzard grow- 
 ing thicker and colder each moment. Even should the 
 horses hold out, and all survive until the surrounding 
 settlement could be reached, darkness must first over- 
 take them, and through that blinding drift of snow no 
 light could be seen at a hopeful distance. 
 
 All this Kneut realized and was terribly frightened ; 
 but he pressed on heroically, digging his heels into the 
 colt's ribs and urging it on with his voice and manag- 
 ing to keep the sleigh and the flying team in sight. 
 The effort kept him warm. Suddenly the ground grew 
 rough and boggy and the colt stumbled and fell, pitch- 
 ing Kneut over its head and wedging him between two 
 hummocks so tightly that it took him some seconds to 
 extricate himself. He had clutched the bridle-rein 
 tightly, so tightly that it had broken at the buckle, and 
 as he struggled finally to his feet he still held the long 
 end in his hand while the colt snorted and floundered 
 about him among the bogs and snow. 
 
 Kneut hastily rebuckled the rein and mounted. He 
 could no longer see the sleigh, but there was still the 
 trail, though fast filling up, where the plunging team 
 had wallowed through the snow amid the bogs. He 
 followed for a few rods and came within sight of an 
 object which proved to be the sleigh without the 
 horses ; the beam of the front " bob " had struck solidly 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES 93 
 
 against a frozen hummock and the runner had broken, 
 leaving the team free of burden. 
 
 Kneut hastily tumbled off his horse, tied its halter to 
 a ring in the end rod of the sleigh-box, and hurried 
 around to Olaf, who lay motionless in a kind of heap 
 where he had been thrown by the jolt into the front 
 end of the box. 
 
 A moment's examination proved that Helgerson was 
 alive and not yet badly chilled, for his face was flushed 
 and he was actually snoring in a drunken stupor of 
 sleep. Kneut shook him roughly, and even pounded 
 him in an effort to arouse, but could only get him to 
 fling his arms about and mumble drunkenly while the 
 snow pelted down in his face. 
 
 Kneut, finding it impossible to get him awake, ceased 
 trying, and looked about in desperation to see what, if 
 any thing, might be done to save him from freezing to 
 death — as he must soon, exposed in this helpless con- 
 dition. 
 
 The Eorselad did not stop to think of his own peril- 
 ous situation. A glance about him discovered the fact 
 that the sleigh had lodged at the edge of a slough and 
 that a dense growth of tall rushes was in sight a few 
 yards distant. They had been too green to burn when 
 the early fall fire had swept across them, and it was in 
 such rush brake, he remembered, that, years before, the 
 deer used to take refuge from the winter's cold and 
 storms. 
 
 His plan was formed at once, and, going to his colt 
 he deliberately stripped it of saddle and bridle and 
 turned it loose. " Save yourself if you can, Jan," said 
 he, and the animal plunged out of sight while ho was 
 
94 FKONTIEE SKETCHES. ' 
 
 Kneut then turned his attention to Olaf. Ee 
 wrapped the buffalo-robe and blanket which lay in the 
 bottom of the sleigh-box about the stupid man, rolling 
 him in them ; then, seizing him about the waist, lifted 
 his limp body out of the sleigh. Then, with a mighty 
 effort, he tugged his big enemy forwardj dragging 
 Olaf s long legs among the bogs, through the snow and 
 in among the rushes. He pushed on, puffing and even 
 sweating with exertion, until he had reached a point 
 within the brake where the thicket became so dense 
 that he could no longer get on and carry his burden. 
 Then he dropped Olaf, and with his hands broke down 
 the rushes in front, making a path some rods further. 
 Here he oould scarcely feel the wind, and, thankful 
 enough to have found such fortunate shelter, went back 
 and dragged the stupid Helgerson to it. Then, clear- 
 ing away a little spot and piling the rushes at one edge 
 for fire-wood, he opened Helgerson's big coat and 
 searched the pockets of his inside garments, and luckily, 
 with a pipe and a package of tobacco, in one of them 
 was a box of matches. Then, rolling Olaf up in his 
 robe and blanket again, he got down over the pile of 
 rushes and managed to light them. 
 
 And now began a strange and wearisome night vigil. 
 
 Darkness was already coming on, and Kneut began 
 industriously breaking rushes for fuel. He broke them 
 upon the windward side and threw them in heaps upon 
 the fire. An armful of them would not burn three 
 minutes, but that made no difference ; the fire must be 
 kept going, and undauntedly he worked on for hours 
 and hours. 
 
 He had laid Olaf as close to the blaze as he dared, 
 
FBONTIEE SKETCHES. 95 
 
 and occasionally he framed his huge bundle over that 
 the heat might get a chance at both sides. 
 
 Once and a while he pounded Helgerson vigorously 
 and then listened to his breathing, but he could only 
 spare a moment in each effort to awake the sleeper, as 
 the fire had to be kept going at all hazards. 
 
 The circle of open space in front of the blaze grew 
 wider as Kneut broke the rushes and threw them on. 
 They were so thick, though, that an armful could be 
 gathered without stepping out of his tracks. Steadily 
 he worked, while the storm whistled and howled about 
 his head, and the swaying rushes alternated with the 
 driving snow in dealing him stinging cuts upon the face. 
 
 It was nearly morning when Olaf, after a pounding, 
 came to himself, and, after rubbing his eyes and mum- 
 bling in a growling voice for a bit, sat up before the 
 fire. Curiously and half-dazedly he watched Kneut 
 coming and going at the fire. 
 
 Presently Kneut threw on an extra large armful and 
 stopped in front of Olaf. 
 
 " Halloo, Olaf Helgerson ! " he shouted. •' Do you 
 know where you are ? " 
 
 Olaf gazed at him earnestly for a minute. 
 
 " You are Kneut Halvorsen," he said. " How came 
 we here ? " 
 
 And then, while feeding the flame lightly with a 
 fresh bundle of rushes, Kneut told his story. 
 
 When he had finished Olaf staggered to his feet and 
 threw his arms about Kneut. 
 
 "Kneut, Kneut?" he burst out, hugging the lad 
 close to him, " I've got my pay ! I've got my pay ! " 
 And the big rough fellow, in his wonder and gratitude, 
 wept like a child, while Kneut supported his unsteady 
 
96 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 limbs. He hacjl sobered suddenly and thoroughly, and 
 after Kneut had helped to walk him about a bit gained 
 the use of his limbs, and for the balance of the night 
 helped Kneut to keep the fire going. 
 
 While walking about Olaf told how he remembered 
 rushing against the door of the " calaboose," breaking 
 it down and running for his sleigh, but he could remem- 
 ber nothing further. 
 
 Morning came soon, and though it was still storming 
 hard, the air was not so filled with snow as it had been, 
 and they managed, by rightly calculating the direction 
 of the wind, to gain the lake shore, and from that 
 point it was an easy matter to find the way around to 
 Kneut's home, just above Elk Grove Point. Widow 
 Halvorsen's surprise was as great as her anxiety had 
 been ; and, when her son and her late enemy had 
 recounted their story while warming themselves at the 
 fire, her thankfulness was greatly increased to know 
 that the night's adventure had made them friends as 
 well as brought them safe out of the storm. 
 
 By almost a miracle of instinct or luck Olaf s horses 
 reached his house in safety and found their way into 
 his cattle-shed, where they spent the night among the 
 cows ; but Kneut's colt perished in the blizzard, and 
 was found afterwards some five miles east of the lakes. 
 It had, no doubt, run until exhausted, and then lain 
 down to freeze. 
 
 Olaf replaced Kneut's loss with another horse, insist- 
 ing that even then he was, and always would be, 
 Kneut's debtor, and since that night his neighbors 
 declare that he has been a good neighbor and a decent 
 man. 
 
IX. 
 
 v A WILD NIGHT-RIDE. 
 
 At nine o'clock one September eve* tg in 1876 1 tool 
 the coach which left Custer City — o^ Custer Village, 
 for the town consisted of twenty or thirty log struc- 
 tures — to go to Sidney, Nebraska. A coach, I suppose 
 it should be called, though on t^e plains this vehicle, 
 which has the driver's seat on che same level as the 
 passengers' seats, is called a i( ^ack." 
 
 I had gone to the " Hills " to engage in mining, but 
 after four months of prosp* >ting had decided to open a 
 general supply-store at tl t new town of Dead wood, 
 and was on my way to Omaha to purchase goods for 
 the venture. 
 
 A tin lamp, fastened id one corner of the " hack," 
 discovered to me two passengers within as I entered 
 and took my seat. One was an old gentleman, appar- 
 ently weak and ill, for, although it was not a cold 
 night, he was muffled in a coarse, heavy ulster over- 
 coat. Moreover, so much of his face as I could see 
 between a gray beard which almost covered it and the 
 rim of a slouch hat was pale and thin, and the eyes 
 looked sunken and unnatural. At least, so it struck me 
 at a cursory glance. 
 
 The other passenger was a young fellow of twenty- 
 two or t twenty -three years, I judged, decidedly dandi- 
 fied in his dress for that region. He wore a stiff hat 
 and a stand-up collar encircled by a neat tie, and had 
 on. a dark suit, evidently custom-made, which was an 
 unusual '"get-up" for that region, and one which at 
 
98 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 once aroused my suspicion, for the only persons 1 had 
 seen about the mining towns dressed in anything like 
 that fashion were gamblers, a class of men I had made 
 it a point to avoid. 
 
 Just before setting out the driver came to the side 
 of the vehicle, thrust in a light Winchester carbine, 
 and placed it between my knees. 
 
 " I see you didn't have no gun/' said he, " an' I keep 
 a couple of extra ones f er seen." 
 
 That was all. No further explanation was necessary 
 in those days. 
 
 I took charge of the weapon, although I was as little 
 expert in its use as I was in handling the Smith & 
 Wesson in my hip-pocket, which, indeed, I had never 
 yet discharged. 
 
 I knew enough of life in the mines to know that the 
 " bad man with a gun " is usually the man who gets 
 into difficulty rather than the peaceful and unarmed 
 citizen ; but a stage-ride from Custer to Sidney at that 
 time was a trip not altogether likely to be without 
 its adventures, and for once I regretted my unfamiliar- 
 ity with " shooting irons." 
 
 It occurred to me that if we were " jumped by. road 
 agents," as the phrase went, the freebooters of the 
 route would have little to fear from the occupants of 
 the hack, whether they got much money or not. 
 
 There were usually valuables of some sort in the iron 
 box under the driver's seat. 
 
 The young man who sat opposite me nau a carbine 
 across his lap, but I fancied he knew even less of its 
 use than I did. As we started he sat, without noticing 
 me, twirling a slight mustache and humming a tune. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 99 
 
 " A fresh gamester, if one at all," I said to myself upon 
 a second look at him. 
 
 The old man had no arms in sight. The driver no 
 doubt regarded him as out of the fight at any event. 
 
 As we rolled on up into Buffalo Gap I had a few 
 words of conversation with my companions. I learned 
 that the elder was an Iowa farmer who had come out 
 to see what he could do in the new mines, but he had 
 been ill with mountain f ever,and afterward attacked by 
 rheumatism, so that he had been forced to abandon 
 his projects and return to the East. He spoke freely, 
 and in the careless English of Western men. 
 
 The young fellow said he was from New York. " Nefa 
 Yawk," he pronounced it. He was, he said, a student 
 of mining engineering, but he did not mention what 
 his business had been in that region ; but that was not 
 strange, for we could not talk much. A jolting stage 
 bowling over a rough country at eight miles an hour 
 does not give the best opportunity for conversation. 
 
 I soon became sleepy, and leaning back in my cor- 
 ner, took such momentary cat-naps as the nature of 
 the road permitted. At eleven o'clock we made a 
 brief halt at a temporary stage station, where the 
 driver's four-in-hand team was exchanged for fresh 
 horses. 
 
 I peeped out, and got a glimpse of the teams, of two 
 men with a lantern, of a low structure of sod or adobe 
 faintly outlined, and of the black side of a pine-covered 
 mountain beyond. The night was quite dark, with 
 floating clouds and no moon. It became somewhat 
 lighter as we passed out of the gap a little later, as I 
 noted through a crack in the swaying " flap " opposite. 
 
 The road was now smoother, and I settled back in 
 
100 FEQNTIEB SKETCHES. 
 
 my corner, as my companions had done, to get a little 
 solid sleep if possible. I dozed off for a time, but was 
 awakened by the groaning of the old man beside me. 
 He seemed to be in great pain, and writhed about ner- 
 vously. I asked him what was the trouble. He 
 Teplied that the rheumatism in his legs was nearly kill- 
 ing him. 
 
 " I wisht the driver'd let me aout when we git t' th* 
 nex' crick. He'll water likely, 'n' I've jest got t' stretch 
 my legs er die. Ye see I'm troubled with cramp rheu- 
 matism, an' th* ain't no room in hyer t* get the cramp 
 out o' my legs." 
 
 I told him I would speak to the driver when we 
 halted, a few minutes later, at the bank of a stream — 
 White River, I believe. I thrust my head out at the 
 side, and asked that the old gentleman might be let out 
 for a moment to stretch his legs. 
 
 " All right ! " said the ^.river, as he clambered down 
 from his own seat. " Fm goin' ter oncheck V let the 
 hosses take a pull at th' drink." 
 
 I then helped the old man to dismount, steadying him 
 by the arm as he got down. He seemed to have a good 
 deal of difficulty in alighting, and groaned in a most 
 lugubrious fashion. The flap swung to after him, as I 
 had unbuttoned it all around to let him out. The young 
 man opposite me lay curled up on his seat, but I could 
 see that his eyes were wide open, and that he was eying 
 me with a sharp, keen glance. My eyes probably 
 responded when they fell upon his, for he straightened 
 up in an alert fashion, and leaned toward me. 
 
 " Say," he whispered, " do you think that old chap's 
 all right? Strikes me that groaning of his was put on. 
 What dy'e think?" 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 101 
 
 The question startled me no less than the young fel- 
 low's manner, and I was about to make some reply- 
 when a gun or pistol shot rang in our ears, followed by 
 a yell either of pain or surprise, and a lurch of the hack 
 threw me forward against my companion's knees. 
 
 Either the shot or the yell had startled our team, and 
 we went down the bank and into the stream with a 
 lunge. I heard shots — one, two, three — as we splashed 
 through the water. Then more yells, loud and fierce. 
 
 My notion of what had happened or was happening 
 was confused for a moment, and then I saw my com- 
 rade — for the light still burned — crawling through to 
 the driver's seat as we went careening up the ooposite 
 bank. 
 
 A second later he had gathered the lines, which were 
 tied in front, and while he held them with one hand he 
 grasped a front rib of the hack with the other. Then 
 he leaned out and glanced back. 
 
 Luckily the horses, which were going at a gallop — 
 they were animals which needed no urging — kept to 
 the road, and the cool-headed young fellow was not 
 pitched out. 
 
 " There's a lot of 'em," he shouted in at me a moment 
 later. " I can just see four or five getting onto their 
 horses. They've killed the driver, I guess, and after us 
 now! " 
 
 With that he gathered up the long-lashed whip, 
 which lay in the boot, and dropping upon his knees 
 began yelling and laying the whip upon the team. 
 
 In a moment we were going at a fearful pace, and 
 despite the excitement and fright of the moment I 
 noticed that our four horses came to hand and ra» 
 
102 FBONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 with a steady, even gait which did credit to the young 
 man's driving. 
 
 " Get ready for 'em now ! " he screamed back at me ; 
 " they'll be down on us in a minute. Open the back 
 flap 'n' pour it into 'em with your guns, and when 
 they're empty get mine under the seat ! " 
 
 He was my captain as well as driver, and I obeyed 
 instinctively, for I certainly had formed no plan of 
 defense or action on my own account. 
 
 I managed to unbutton and roll up the leather 
 behind, and peering out, on my knees before the back 
 seat, I saw that we were indeed followed. It was 
 light enough to distinguish objects dimly at a hundred 
 yards, and there were at least five horsemen in our 
 rear, tearing along at the top of their animals' speed. 
 Knowing that they were within rifle-shot I opened are 
 on them over the seat. I worked the lever of my gun 
 as rapidly as I could, but made awkward business of 
 it. Presently I got a shell stuck, and began trying to 
 get it out. In the meantime our pursuers were gaining 
 with every second. 
 
 They were within fifty yards before I could get out 
 my shell and I was too excited to think of using 
 another gun. Suddenly the light in the hack went 
 out, and a hand upon my shoulder jerked me backward. 
 Then a voice yelled in my ear : 
 
 " Let me get at them ! Load the guns for me, 'n' 
 let the team go. We might's well smash as be riddled 
 by bullets. Here, here's two boxes of cartridges ! " 
 
 I dropped back to the other seat and gave place to 
 him. He threw his carbines over the back of the hind 
 seat and began firing. 
 
 Crj&ek ! crack ! crack ! It seemed to me that a 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 103 
 
 steady stream of fire poured out of the back of the 
 stage, and before I had filled the magazine of my gun, 
 N his was empty. He snatched mine, however, and 
 thrust his own back at me. 
 
 Loading was awkward business at first, as I had to 
 feel for the feeder, but I managed soon to thrust them 
 into my gun as fast as he could work the lever of his 
 own. The men, whoever and whatever they were, rode 
 up to within twenty-five or thirty yards, and, spreading 
 out, opened fire on us. 
 
 " Keep close down in the bottom ! " shouted my com- 
 rade, as he kept on with his firing. 
 
 The " road agents " did not come nearer, evidently 
 fearing too great exposure to the stream of shots from 
 the hack, and my courage rose to something near the 
 level of my companion's. I caught glimpses, as I 
 glanced up now and then, of a plunging horse-man with 
 shadowy, outstretched arm, from which flashed blaze 
 after blaze of light. 
 
 All at once we began descending into a gulley, and 
 the hack bounced from side to side so violently that it 
 was impossible for us to do anything but cling to the 
 sides of the box. 
 
 " It's all right ! " rang my companion's voice in my 
 ear, shortly after we had begun the descent ; " they've 
 quit. They can't ride along the side of the gulch, and 
 daren't follow straight behind. There's a stage ranch 
 below, too. I remember the road." 
 
 Sure enough, the men had dropped back, and the 
 shots ceased. My cool, brave comrade now clam- 
 bered over me, and in some way got into the front seat 
 of the jumping coach. A moment later I noticed that 
 we were slowing up and running more steadily. Five 
 
104 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 minutes more we halted, what was left of us, safe and 
 lound in front of a stage station. 
 
 Our story was soon told, our horses exchanged and 
 a fresh driver, doubly armed, put with us. Such little 
 accidents did not stop stages in those parts. 
 
 There was no clanger, they told us, from that same 
 gang. The three men who were left promised to go 
 immediately and look after our other driver. 
 
 It was only the darkness and the motion of the 
 vehicle and horses that had saved us from being hit. 
 
 "We found several bullet marks about the coach next 
 morning ; one of them, well aimed, had gone through 
 the back seat at an angle and into the front, and must 
 have passed directly between us. My respect for my 
 young companion was greatly raised by the events of 
 that night, and was further increased by an after 
 acquaintance which discovered his real modesty and 
 worth. 
 
 On my return to the "Hills," I learned that our 
 driver had been picked up at the crossing of the creek, 
 badly wounded, and also that the brave fellow had 
 yelled to the team to go the very second he was hit. 
 He had been carried to Sidney. As to the rheumatic 
 old man, he was, of course, a rascal in league with the 
 band who had attacked us. 
 
X. 
 
 CARLEN AND HIS COMET. 
 
 Several years ago, if one had been traveling through 
 Lake Township, in a county of eastern Dakota, and 
 had inquired who was its best known and most reputa- 
 ble citizen, the answer in almost every case would have 
 been Emmet Carlen, and almost any settler could have 
 pointed out on the level prairie, from his own door, the 
 house and buildings of the young Norwegian upon the 
 crest of " Tip-Top Knoll," at the head of Kush Lake. 
 
 Emmet began life in Lake Township as many other 
 Norsemen in many other regions of our New West 
 have done, with no possessions save a change of cloth- 
 ing ; but, at the end of a few years, he had, by his thrift 
 and industry, secured and improved a new farm, and 
 placed himself on the sure road to comfort and plenty. 
 
 At the time of which I write, however, it was not so 
 much his thrift that made him a marked man, but a 
 certain daring, cool-headedness which he had always 
 displayed when courage and intrepidity were demanded 
 
 Once, at his own great peril, he had carried food and 
 extra clothing to a school-teacher and a half-dozen 
 small children who were confined in a little school- 
 house, nearly a mile from any habitation, by one of the 
 fiercest blizzards ever known in that region. This 
 happened during the first year of his stay there, and 
 while be was working for his board and attending 
 school with the little ones whose lives he saved. 
 
 Strangely enough, he was again to figure as the 
 rescuer of two of these same children from another 
 
 105 
 
106 FRONTIER SKBTOHESi 
 
 sweeping storm, one even more terrible than the dreaded 
 blizzard, a storm of fire, as it swept over the tall, dry 
 grass of the unbroken prairie. 
 
 To this exploit, however, there was another party, 
 Emmet's big steer, " Comet," without whose aid, indeed, 
 the children must have perished. 
 
 This animal was quite as noteworthy as his master. 
 " Comet " was a huge, long-legged, long-horned steer. 
 For two years Emmet had only his help in plowing 
 and cultivating the " Tip-Top " homestead, except that 
 the breaking of sod was done by hired " breakers." 
 
 The young Norseman hitched his steer to a heavy 
 cart, and drove him to market at the small but ambi- 
 tious town of Boomerang, eight miles distant. In win- 
 ter, when snow fell and the roads were good, a light 
 sled took the place of the cart. 
 
 Before the sled Comet soon gained a local reputation 
 for speed upon the road. His gait was a steady, long- 
 stepping trot, like that of an elk, and nearly as swift. 
 At any rate, it was soon an admitted fact that there 
 were no horses in the neighborhood that could pass 
 Comet in a trotting-match. This was abundantly 
 proved by many races along the road to town and 
 back, where the drivers of the teams or single horses 
 had tried and failed to " go by " the fleet steer. 
 
 Comet had taken his name from a former owner, and 
 it was given him because of his wonderful speed and a 
 habit of flying his long tail as a horizontal streamer 
 while "cutting' 7 away from the herd and the herder's 
 pony. The owner was willing to sell the animal cheap, 
 because he was unruly and hard to break. Emmet 
 heard of the chance to buy, and bethought him of the 
 plan, often adopted in Norway, of driving oxen singly. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 107 
 
 But he had no ready money. Although he had 
 strong objections to running into debt, he did so now, 
 and obtained Comet by giving his note for twenty dol- 
 lars. Then, having fashioned a yoke and harness of 
 the Norse pattern, he set to work with characteristic 
 patience and kindness to bring the big, headstrong ani- 
 mal " under the yoke." 
 
 His success, though won after a hard struggle, was 
 complete, and, in a few weeks Comet, hitched to a 
 vehicle made from two wheels of an old wagon, with 
 Emmet seated upon the axle, was driven to Boomer- 
 angs There the young fellow bought a few boards at 
 the lumber yard, nailed together a rough box, secured 
 it by bolts and braces to the axle which had served him 
 for a seat, and rode home in triumph. 
 
 That autumn Emmet bought a small ten-inch stirring 
 plough, and turned over ten acres of sod. The steer 
 pulled the implement with ease after a short training. 
 
 The next year another ten acres was broken upon 
 the homestead, and Comet was still sufficient for all 
 Emmet's purposes. It, was in October of this year 
 that the event which is the subject of this narrative 
 occurred. 
 
 Emmet was ploughing. The day was one of 
 those common to that season in new prairie regions, 
 smoky, with a strong northwest wind smelling of 
 burned grass, a fine dust of cinders sifting down, and 
 sun shining through smoke and dust with a dull red 
 glare. But as Emmet had sometime before burned a 
 broad "fire break ' around his shanty, grain and hay- 
 stacks, he noted these evidences of raging fires without 
 uneasiness. They came at some time every autumn. 
 
 It was about the middle of the afternoon that little 
 
108 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 Jake and Lib Walker came into his field, bringing 
 some grain bags which Emmet had lent their father to 
 use during his threshing the week before. 
 
 Walker lived at the foot of Eush Lake, about a mile 
 from the school house, where the young Norwegians 
 had taken lessons in English, and these little fellows, 
 Jake and Lib, had been his schoolmates when the " big 
 blizzard " came, cutting them off suddenly from home 
 and imperilling their lives. 
 
 " Hal-lo, Yakie ; hal-lo, Libbie ! You a koot fays 
 from home, aint it?" was Emmet's greeting as the 
 lads came up, each staggering under a back-load of 
 sacks. 
 
 "We've been a good deal further'n this more'n 
 once," said Jake, " and we've got to go clear round the 
 lake 'n' drive the cows home yit to-night. They're 
 away over yonder," pointing across the lake, " where 
 the wild rice grows 'long the edge, and pa's gone to 
 town." 
 
 "Sit you ride town on t'em packs t'ere, "said Emmet, 
 " unt rest yo' leeks, unt I feel let Comet rest, too. I 
 did tink meppe as I coot feenish tot bloughin' py 
 night-time put I ton't know off I ken to ut. " 
 
 And then, seated on the plough-beam, he talked 
 pleasantly with the boys for a few minutes, then tell- 
 ing them that he would carry the sacks to the house 
 when he turned out, bade them " look out unt not ket 
 lost een t'em tall krasses, " — tall grass — as they trudged 
 sturdily away toward the upper end of the lake. 
 
 The lads had been gone from the field about half an 
 hour when Emmet noted with alarm that the smoke 
 which had pervaded the air all day had thickened, 
 until now the sun was almost clouded over, showing 
 
feontieb' sketches. 109 
 
 only a dull red disk. The smell of burning grass had 
 grown more pungent. 
 
 His fears were aroused wholly on account of the two 
 boys who had gone to the other side of the lake. The 
 field in which he was at work lay upon the south side 
 of the hill upon which his shanty stood, shutting off 
 the view to north and west, from whence the wind was 
 blowing. 
 
 He unhitched Comet at once, and drove him at a 
 trot to the top of the hill. 
 
 No sooner had he reached the Grest than he saw 
 cause enough for alarm. Not two miles away to the 
 northwest dense volumes of smoke were rising and roll- 
 ing forward over a broad stretch of prairie. A big 
 prairie fire was sweeping down at a tremendous rate 
 of speed, the " head fire" lining out directly to ward the 
 head of the lake. 
 
 What could he do to save those two boys ? was the 
 young Norwegian's first thought. They must be even 
 at that moment, he thought, well round the head of the 
 lake, wading through the tall grass of the flat. There 
 was no bank to the lake upon that side; wild rice and 
 tall rushes grew far out into the water, and this swamp 
 ^growth would burn to its very edge. He could not 
 race with the fire on foot, and "he doubted if even a 
 horse would be able to outstrip it, but he instantly 
 resolved to make the trial with Comet. 
 
 He had frequently ridden the big fellow, who had 
 become as docile and obedient as a dog, to and from 
 the field, hawing ^nd geeing him about at will. Now, 
 if possible, he would ride the fleet-footed steed to some 
 purpose. To throw off the yoke and harness, tie a rope 
 around the animal's body to cling to, and another to 
 
110 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 either horn to serve as reins, was the work of a minute; 
 then, whip in hand, Emmet mounted and was off. 
 
 Comet, feeling a few stinging blows of the whip, 
 broke away at his swiftest trot. Although his gait had 
 more than once defied the best trotters of the settle- 
 ment, the big steer could hold it with ease for a length 
 of time that seemed incredible. In fact, as had been 
 proved when Comet ran wild among the settlement 
 herds, the animal was as nearly tireless as flesh and 
 blood could be. 
 
 But it was a rough ride, and Emmet was obliged to 
 cling tightly with one hand to the girth-rope, while 
 managing reins and whip with the other. 
 
 The whip, however, was not needed, and the rider 
 had only to yell " Hi ! Hi ! " to keep the steer flying at 
 his best gait. With head np and tail streaming, Comet 
 rounded the point of the lake, some half-mile from the 
 knoll cabin, just as the u head fire " reached the upper 
 end of the flat which lay to west and north of the lake. 
 
 That " head fire " was now not a mile distant, and 
 was coming directly down the flat which followed the 
 southeast trend of the lake. 
 
 The smoke had grown so thick that Emmet could 
 only see a few hundred feet ahead, but he kept well 
 within sight of the lake shore, knowing that the boys 
 could not have gone far down as yet, and that they 
 were not likely to wander far from the lake's edge, for 
 fear of getting lost. Their cattle, too, would be found 
 along shore, feeding upon the rice-heads. 
 
 "Hi! Hi! Hi!" 
 
 Away they tore through the high grass, across 
 ditches, over rough, boggy spots, the rider getting a 
 terrible pounding, the steer possessed of but one instinct, 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. Ill 
 
 it seemed — to respond to those sharp yells with the 
 utmost possible strides of his long, fleet legs. 
 
 The fire meanwhile was gaining every moment, in 
 spite of his tremendous exertion. Emmet could see 
 that the smoke closed in thicker, and feel that the air 
 was growing hot and oppressive. 
 
 But suddenly two little dark objects appeared a few 
 yards ahead, bobbing above the waving grass. 
 
 Emmet gave a shout of delight ; it was the black 
 heads of Jake and Lib, nodding as they ran. Their 
 hats were off, and they were running as fast as the 
 wilderness of grass would let them. 
 
 In an instant Comet was alongside, and, with a few 
 sharp whoas and a hard pull at the reins, Emmet 
 managed to stop him but a few yards in front of the 
 boys. 
 
 They ran to him with eager shouts, their fright 
 turned to joy at the sight of him. But without wait- 
 ing to answer them he leaned forward, caught Lib by 
 the arm, and swung him up in front, then helped Jake 
 to scramble on behind. 
 
 " Hank tight to me, Take/' he said ; then, throw- 
 ing an arm around Lib and grasping the rope, he dug 
 his heels into Comet's ribs, and with a shrill " Hi ! 
 Hi ! " set the steer off again at a swinging pace. 
 
 The crackle and roar of the fire could plainly be 
 heard as they started, and Comet, either objecting to 
 his additional burden or uneasy at the smell and the 
 roar of the fire, began snorting and throwing his head 
 on either side ominously. 
 
 Emmet feared that the steer would become unman* 
 ageable, and as a last resort, determined to run him 
 into the lake and make a swim for it. Somewhere 
 
112 
 
 FB0NTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 not far .below, lie knew there was an arm of the lake 
 about one hundred yards wide, extending out a 
 considerable distance into the flat, and this arm, or 
 bayou, he had hoped to reach. 
 
 He knew that Comet would not hesitate an instant 
 to plunge into it and swim, — the steer had been known 
 
 mmmi 
 
 "Hank tight to me, Yake."— Page 111. 
 
 to swim clear across the lake itself, — and once upon 
 the other side, he could soon make his little party 
 
 safe. 
 
 Suddenly the smoke lifted, and he ventured a glance 
 backward. The sight was appalling! The smoke, 
 driven upward by the rush of heated air, was flying 
 
FE0NTIER SKETCHES. 113 
 
 above their heads, leaving the jumping flames in plain 
 view. 
 
 The head fire was not a quarter-mile distant, Emmet 
 judged, and was bearing down on them with terrible 
 speed, the flames shooting higher than he had ever seen 
 them rise before. 
 
 Little Jake and Lib clung to him without a word, 
 while Comet threw his head about and snorted more 
 violently than before. 
 
 But suddenly there was a strip of water before them; 
 the arm of the lake had been reached. A moment 
 more, and they were into it with a splash, and Comet 
 was swimming with his heavy burden and carrying it 
 more easily than he had been able to bear it upon land ; 
 but his body sank until the water came up to Jake's 
 waist, and nothing but the nose and horns of the steer 
 could be seen. 
 
 But swimming was much slower work than running 
 had been, and by the time the opposite shore was 
 reached the fire was already roaring at the other edge. 
 
 Emmet leaped off into the edge of the water, and 
 pulled Jake and Lib with him. 
 
 " Here ! " he shouted, giving them the ropes. " Hank 
 tite to 'im ; ton' t let 'im loose off you can hold to 'im. 
 -You yust so safe as to home now." 
 
 They obeyed manfully, and Emmet, drawing a 
 match-box from his vest pocket, dropped upon his knees 
 at the nearest dry place, and, lighting a match, held his 
 hat over it until the flame had touched the blades of 
 grass which he bent toward it ; then he stepped back 
 into the water and took charge of the steer again. 
 
 The flames on the other side had now reached the 
 
114 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 water's edge, and bunches of burning grass were blown 
 toward them. 
 
 For an instant the heat was intense, almost scorch- 
 ing. Great tongues of angry flame lapped over among 
 the waters and reached out toward them. Then, with 
 a final cracking whish! they died out, leaving a black, 
 smoking surface beyond. 
 
 The tire swept on around the bayou, but mean- 
 while Emmet's small blaze sprang up and stretched 
 away, gathering force and speed as it swept a wider 
 space. 
 
 Comet took things quietly after his swim, which had 
 cooled his skin, and his dripping coat of hair served to 
 protect him from the violent heat which reigned for a 
 moment. 
 
 " Fall," said Emmet, when the coast was clear, " Fall, 
 little poys, ve kin ko to you' house now." 
 
 Walker's house was only a mile distant, but they 
 reached it long after the fire had passed, and found 
 that Mrs. Walker had been nearly wild about her boys 
 until she saw them coming. 
 
 " I might have known you'd save 'em," she said to 
 Emmet, while grateful tears ran down her face, as she 
 listened to the story of their escape. Their cattle had 
 taken fright and come home about an hour before. 
 
XL 
 
 CAUGHT IN A BLIZZARD. 
 
 The tremendous hurricane of snow and wind which 
 swept over our great, level Northwest in January, 
 1888, was accompanied by incidents tragic, thrilling 
 and heroic, that will no doubt become a part of the 
 history of the vast region over which the storm 
 swept. 
 
 In northwestern Iowa the blizzard descended with 
 a suddenness and fury which made the early settlers 
 shudder as they thought of the barren, unprotected 
 prairies of fifteen or twenty years before. " If 'twasn't 
 for our maple and Cottonwood groves and big fields of 
 cornstalks," said they, " wouldn't we ketch it ?" 
 
 Happily, we had these protections, and suffered 
 neither loss of life nor great inconvenience, though we 
 complained more or less because our daily mails were 
 cut off and our freights delayed even for a short 
 period. But really our most important grievance when 
 we are visited by these occasional fierce storms in 
 winter is the stoppage of hay hauling, pressing and 
 shipping, which is our chief industry at that season. 
 
 It was in connection with hay hauling in one of our 
 marshy, unsettled townships that there occurred an 
 incident of extreme peril, of fortitude and intelligent 
 exercise of the faculties amid great danger, which, at 
 the time it came to light, was almost lost sight of in 
 our interest in the widespread calamities which fell 
 upon our unprepared neighbors on the more newly 
 settled prairies of the North and West. 
 
 115 
 
118 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 The little railway station of Duponi, in one of the 
 thinly settled districts, was built entirely in the inter- 
 ests of the hay-pressing business, for which the unin- 
 habited flats of Lowland and Gull Lake townships 
 furnish thousands of tons of grass. 
 
 The land in these townships is mostly owned by 
 Eastern speculators, who obtained it cheaply under the 
 first Entry Laws and the Swamp Land Act. Although 
 much of it is excellent farm land, these owners have 
 held the price so high as to keep off the actual settlers 
 entirely. This they have been able to do by renting 
 the lands for pasturage and haymaking, and getting 
 enough out of the rent to pay the taxes, and even in 
 some- cases a fair interest on the first investment, which 
 was extremely small. 
 
 Over this tract, a dozen miles in extent, as far back 
 from the railway as hay can be hauled with profit, are 
 scattered every summer the camps of the haymakers, 
 and the low ricks or " stacks " grow and accumulate 
 until they dot the prairie so thickly as to become for 
 the time the distinguishing feature of the landscape-. 
 
 There are at the station large hay barns, containing 
 steam presses, to which, from September until April, 
 the hay is hauled, stowed and baled, ready for ship- 
 ment. / * 
 
 Among those who were hauling hay at the time of 
 the great storm were Dick Jordan and his small 
 brother Orr— named after an Iowa statesman — a little 
 fellow, too young to attend school regularly, who went 
 along on pleasant days to tramp down the hay in the 
 frame of the big rack. 
 
 It had been pleasant enough for Orr to go on every 
 trip that week up to the night of the blizzard, and the 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. * 117 
 
 day was so warm and fine that Dick's sisters, Jeanie 
 and Carrie, younger than himself but older than Orr, 
 obtained the permission of their teacher to go home at 
 recess, in order that they might go with their brothers 
 for a ride to the hay-field. Their mother had promised 
 that they should go upon the first warm day after 
 sleighing came. 
 
 They arrived at the house just as Dick and Orr 
 drove up for a lunch, before going after their last load 
 for the day, and, as it would be dark before they could 
 get back, the girls, too, got each a slice of bread and 
 cold meat to munch on the road. 
 
 Dick spread two heavy horse-blankets, which were 
 always carried in winter to throw over his horses when 
 standing, upon one of the bottom boards of the rack, 
 and seated Jeanie and Carrie upon them. Then, little 
 dreaming what was before them, the brothers and sis- 
 ters drove swiftly out upon a new sleigh road, which 
 led them for several miles over a prairie almost as level 
 as a barn floor. 
 
 The haystacks were reached, and while the boys 
 worked at their loading, the little girls raced about, 
 tumbled in the hay, or rolled snowballs as they pleased. 
 
 The load of hay was taken from the bottom of a 
 stack around which the snow had drifted, thawed and 
 frozen until much of the outside hay had to be cut 
 loose with an axe or freed with a shovel, both of which 
 implements Dick carried for that purpose. It took 
 much longer than usual to load upon this occasion, and 
 evening was already drawing on when finally the little 
 girls were helped upon the load and the team was 
 turned toward home. 
 
 it had been mild and thawing all day, so mild, 
 
118 FRONTIFR SKETCHES. 
 
 indeed, that Dick had feared that this would be theit 
 last trip with a sleigh ufitil snow should come again ; 
 but as he climbed upor. the load to start for home, he 
 noticed that a heavy gray bank had formed across the 
 western sky, and that it seemed to be growing thick 
 overhead. The air had suddenly become rather chilly. 
 
 He told his brother and sisters that it would snow 
 before they got home, and that they had better " cuddle 
 down " in the hay and throw the horse-blankets over 
 their laps. He drove forward for a few minutes, urging 
 the horses to a half -trot, and uneasily glancing toward 
 the dense gray bank, which rapidly overcast the west 
 and north, and threw a gloom and cold in advance, as 
 it approached. 
 
 The darkness came on rapidly, and soon the roar of 
 a high wind broke upon Dick's ears. 
 
 " It's a blizzard! "he thought, with alarm, for he had 
 been bred upon the Northwest Prairies, and knew the 
 danger of being caught out upon that mowed flat, so 
 far from any houses, for the nearest dwelling was that 
 of a farmer across Gull Lake, two miles and a half to 
 the southeast. 
 
 He had not much time to think or to exercise his 
 fears before the great storm was upon them. 
 
 It was nothing less than a hurricane from the begin- 
 ning, and at the first fierce gust the big un wieldly rack 
 careened with its load so that the little girls screamed 
 with fright, and the horses stopped and stood turning 
 their heads away from the pelting sleet which drove 
 down at the first burst of the storm. 
 
 The air was filled instantly with the driving ice. 
 
 Dick shouted at the animals and slapped at them 
 with the lines, but they could not be induced to turn 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 119 
 
 their heads against the storm. They stood as if para- 
 lyzed by the fierce blast of wind and sleet. Another 
 and more furious sweep of the hurricane came almost 
 immediately, and this time the rack was lifted com- 
 pletely off the sled and overturned with hay and riders. 
 
 Fortunately, there was a considerable drift of snow 
 beside the road, and neither Dick nor the younger 
 children were hurt by the fall. They had all, with a 
 common impulse, jumped from the top of the load as 
 it careened over, and so fell, or rather tumbled, outside 
 the sweep of the rack. 
 
 As they scrambled to their feet the stiff wind was so 
 filled with hay and snow that they could scarcely dis- 
 tinguish each other. The rack turned bottom side up, 
 and, as it was built in the shape of a "figure four " 
 quail trap, held most of the hay securely beneath its 
 frame. 
 
 Dick still held to one of the lines, and the horses 
 stood shivering with fear and cold, for the temperature 
 had suddenly dropped far below the freezing point. 
 
 " Get behind the rack out of the wind! " he screamed 
 to the younger ones, who were clinging to each other 
 in the endeavor to stand up before the raging wind. 
 They obeyed him, and, hugging close against the frame- 
 work, found themselves protected from the cutting 
 blast, but snow and sleet whirled over the top and 
 about the ends in blinding scurries. 
 
 Dick knew instinctively that to attempt to get those 
 children on the bare sled and to drive them to a place 
 of safety only meant certain death to them all. In the 
 first place, it would require all their strength to cling 
 on. Moreover, they could not endure a half-hour even 
 of such exposure to the storm. With darkness coming 
 
 /? 
 
120 FBONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 on and the air filled with driving snow, there was the 
 barest possibility of his being able to find a house— it 
 could only be found by running against it or into a 
 yard — even if he should be able to drive and keep the 
 children alive all night. 
 
 His plans were quickly made, and a man twice his 
 age could not have made them with greater good sense, 
 or have shown a braver spirit in their execution. 
 
 He stripped the harness from his horses and turned 
 them loose. Then, without waiting even to see which 
 direction the animals took, he ran to his brothers and 
 sisters. 
 
 Although it had been so warm when they started 
 from home, their mother had insisted that Jeanie and 
 Carrie should dress warmly, and take cloaks and com- 
 forters with them. These they had put on before the 
 etorm came, and Dick, after digging in the hay for a 
 few minutes between the boards of the rack, discov- 
 ered the horse-blankets upon which the children had 
 fortunately been sitting when the load overturned. 
 
 While digging for them he had prepared a " nest," 
 as he termed it, for the three small ones, and he now 
 ordered them to get in there while he tucked the 
 blankets around them. Frightened and hushed by the 
 terrific storm, they obeyed without a murmur, and the 
 brave young fellow told them that they jtnust " cuddle 
 close together and never peep outside " till they heard 
 him call them. 
 
 He said that he would go and bring them something 
 to eat as soon as he could get back from Mr. Walde- 
 man's across Gull Lake, and then after the blizzard 
 was over they would all go home. 
 
 He knew the snow would drift over them in a very 
 
FBONTTER SKETCHES. 121 
 
 few minutes, and believed that if they kept quiet their 
 breath would warm the "nest" and no doubt keep 
 them alive for many hours. But he knew also that 
 such blizzards have been known to last with unabated 
 fury for two or three days, and that there was little 
 likelihood of their being able to outlast such a storm. 
 Therefore, his only hope was to reach help if possible, 
 and get it to them the moment it should be possible to 
 breast the blizzard. 
 
 Gull Lake lay over a mile distant, directly to the 
 southeast. It was one mile and a half across it, and on 
 the other side lay Waldeman's ranch, a large group of 
 buildings, dwelling, barns and shedding for stock, 
 enclosed by a large yard which stretched along the lake 
 shore for forty rods or more. 
 
 Dick hoped that he might be able to reach this ranch 
 and to find it. 
 
 Buttoning his overcoat tightly about him and pulling 
 a "Norwegian cap" which he wore tightly down over 
 his ears, he set out, going directly with the storm, 
 which came from the northwest. 
 
 He started at a stiff run. The wind nearly lifted 
 him off his feet at every step, and cut the backs of his 
 legs and the sides of his cheeks icily. 
 
 He soon found it impossible to tell whether he was 
 going directly with the wind or not, as it blew in 
 changeful gusts and whirled violently about him. But 
 there was a mile of lake shore in front, and he reached 
 it at length and found himself upon the ice. 
 
 It had now grown dark, and amidst the pitchy 
 blackness of night and the thick drift of snow he could 
 no longer make ..use of his eyes. In fact, he was 
 obliged to shut them and allow himself to be carried 
 
122 FKONTIEK SKETCHES. 
 
 over the ice by the wind. A part of the time he was 
 able to keep his feet, but often he was thrown forward 
 and actually blown over the rough ice for rods. The 
 skirt of his overcoat occasionally blew over his head, 
 and the bitter wind pierced every part of his body. 
 
 It was a rough and terrible experience getting across 
 the lake, and he was glad he had not attempted to take 
 his brother and sisters with him. 
 
 When he at length reached the southern bank, he 
 was so chilled and exhausted that he could scarcely 
 keep his feet at all. The bank was high at the point 
 where he reached it, and he knew it could not be 
 opposite the ranch fence, as the high bank was west of 
 that. So he turned, and alternately walked and 
 crawled eastward, guided in that direction by the wind. 
 
 For a long time he forced his way along the edge of 
 the ice, which was swept bare, guided by the sense of 
 feeling and the direction of the wind, but at length he 
 stumbled against something and joyfully discovered it 
 to be a fence. 
 
 As it afterward proved, it was an extension of the 
 cattle-yard, a corner of which was built down into the 
 edge of the lake to afford water for the stock, and had 
 he missed it by even a few feet he would uudoubtedly 
 have perished. 
 
 The discovery of it gave him new life at once and 
 aroused all his faculties. He climbed over the fence so 
 as to get inside the yard, and then, by feeling, followed 
 it until he came to a connection with the cattle-sheds. 
 
 Once in the shelter of these, he whipped his numbed 
 arms and stamped his chilled feet until circulation was 
 partly restored, then felt his way along to the barn, and 
 at length managed to reach the ranch dwelling, guided 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES 123 
 
 by the glimmer of a light which he could see through 
 the storm. 
 
 He was welcomed and warmed and fed, and promised 
 that by every possible effort that could be made the 
 men should help him to rescue his brother and sisters 
 when daylight came. 
 
 Dick found that he had escaped with only a slight 
 frosting of his face and fingers, but his anguish on 
 account of the little ones he had left buried in the hay 
 was intense. He did not sleep at all, but walked the 
 floor of the ranch kitchen, where he was allowed to 
 keep a roaring fire all night. Every few moments he 
 would go to the windows, scratch the frost, and 
 endeavor to peer out into the storm. 
 
 He could gather no encouragement until daylight, 
 when he discovered that the snow was no longer fall- 
 ing, and that the sky would soon be clear. 
 
 He roused the ranch hands at once, as two of them 
 had agreed to go with him. 
 
 In a short time the men were up. Some hot coffee 
 was drunk, a jug of it was filled from the pot, and a 
 sharp-shod team was harnessed. The horses were 
 blindfolded, their heads wrapped in blankets to protect 
 them from the blinding drift which was still driving 
 hard from the northwest. 
 
 This team was hitched to a double sleigh filled with 
 robes and wraps. Then, muffling themselves in the 
 bottom of the box, the party set out across the lake in 
 the very teeth of the wind. 
 
 The horses were old and steady, and, after some 
 snorting and tossing of the heads, as a protest against 
 the novelty of complete " blinds," took a steady hard 
 trot over the corrugated ice. 
 
134 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 On reaching the farther shore of the lake and 
 ascending to the prairie, Dick, with his head completely 
 muffled to the eyes, took a standing position and, 
 bracing himself, directed the movements of the driver. 
 The short distance of a mile and the steady direction 
 of the wind enabled him to hit the hay-road at a point 
 so close to the overturned rack that he caught sight of 
 the top of it as they were passing some rods distant. 
 
 A moment later they had halted and tied the team, 
 and Dick had pointed out the spot where his compan- 
 ions were to dig. Then, utterly overcome, he threw 
 himself upon the drift and buried his face in his arms. 
 His grief and suspense at that moment were almost 
 beyond endurance, He had no idea that the children 
 could have survived such a fearful night. But five 
 minutes of silent digging occupied his companions, and 
 at the end of that time both of them gave a trium- 
 phant shout. 
 
 They had uncovered the nest and a cloud of steam 
 rose up from the blankets. Dick was on his feet 
 instantly. A moment later the three young Jordans 
 were dragged forth, alive, but stupid with cold and a 
 drowsiness which would not have left them alive many 
 hours longer. Yet they had escaped any serious frost- 
 bite, and a dexterous rubbing, shaking and jouncing 
 restored their circulation and their senses. They were 
 bundled into the sleigh amid robes and comforters, and, 
 despite the severity of the weather and the drifting 
 snow, were taken immediately toward home, where 
 their welcome must be imagined 
 
 One of Dick's horses perished in the storm, but the 
 other turned up alive and well the next day at a far- 
 mer's stables twelve miles south of Gull Lake. 
 
XIL 
 
 A FORTUNATE CYCLONE. 
 
 " Ben down to 'Squire Brennan's, Mose % " 
 
 The speaker was a sturdy farmer, who stood mop« 
 ping the moisture from his brow just outside the lane 
 fence which divided his snug farm from that of his 
 nearest neighbor. 
 
 Moses Bently drew the reins tightly across the neck 
 of his dripping horse, and with a sharp "Whoa!" 
 flung himself out of the saddle. 
 
 " Yes," said he ; " I've ben thar ;" and pulling a 
 huge bandanna from his pocket, he took off his hat 
 and followed the example of his neighbor across the 
 fence. 
 
 " Jones," exclaimed he, with vehemence, " but ain't 
 this a scorcher ? Never seed sech hot weather in the 
 last of August. Cuttin' up corn, air ye % Bless me, 
 man ! you'll drop fust ye know, an' hev to be laid in 
 the shade." 
 
 " Not's long's I can keep up a sweat," replied Jones, 
 coming forward from the corn shocks and leaning 
 upon the fence. " But say, Mose, what's that rumpus 
 'bout over in your neighborhood? What's the row 
 'tween Blake an' Miller, anyhow % I hear they've ben 
 down to Brennan's lawin' it to-day." 
 
 "Yaas," returned Moses, " they've ben thar lawin' 
 it, an' they're likely to keep on lawin' to the end o' 
 ther days. But mercy, Jones 1 I can't stand in this 
 hot sun tellin' ye 'bout it." 
 
 " Come under the shadder o' this plum-tree here," 
 
 m 
 
126 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 walking toward a large branching plum which stood, 
 loaded with fruit, just inside the fence. " Here's a 
 good place to set down an* cool yerself off," he added, 
 as Mose finished tying his animal and climbed over the 
 fence. 
 
 " Yaas," said Moses, again, as he seated himself beside 
 Jones at the foot of the tree, lifted his broad-brimmed 
 straw hat and drew one hickory shirt sleeve across his 
 beady forehead. " Yaas, they'll law it now s' long's 
 they live, an' in the end all they'll have'll go to pay up 
 costs. I left their lawyers argyin 5 'fore Squire Br en- 
 nan, an' a picked jury that didn't know nothin' 'bout 
 the case, nor nothin' 'bout anything else if I'm any 
 judge ; jest like most 6' the men that gets on juries, 
 though ; lot o' loafers, reg'lar nuisances, that's just got 
 pride 'nough t' keep 'em out o' the poorhouse. 
 
 " Squire Brennan did his best, jest as he al'ays does, 
 to get 'em to settle ; but bless ye ! 'twa'n't any use. 
 They're madder 'n hornets, both of 'em. I went down 
 as a witness, but what I knew didn't amount to 
 nothin' 'n' I jest got disgusted with their wranglin', 
 an' when they was done with me I come away an," — 
 
 " But what's it all about % " broke in Jones. "Air 
 they fightin' 'bout that new survey % " 
 
 " Waal, yaas, that's at the bottom of it, but they 
 wouldn't had no trouble 'bout that, I guess, if 't hadn't 
 been for them harvest-apple trees on Blake's line, that 
 he set out when he first moved onto the place. There's 
 only five or six of em, and they don't bear a great 
 sight of apples, either ; but they're good, what there is 
 of 'em, an' dead ripe now. You see, Blake sot 'em out 
 right on his south line, or jest as near as he could, an' 
 not have 'em grow so's to spread acrost. "Wall, the 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 127 
 
 Gov'ment surveyors was jest as drunk when they run 
 the lines over Section Twelve as they was when they 
 laid out the rest o' this township, an' so this new sur- 
 vey sets them apple-trees jest inside Miller's north 
 line. 
 
 "There ain't any question, of course," continued 
 Moses, " not the least sprinklin' o' doubt that Miller's 
 got a legal right to them apple-trees, ef the last survey 
 is c'rect, an' he's mean enough — which it seems he is — 
 to claim 'em. But it seems that Blake hadn't no idea 
 that Miller would lay any claim to the apples, or that 
 he re'ly intended to have the line-fence sot over, bein' 
 as 'twas only a, matter or two feet or so, an' 'specially 
 so long's there was a chance to dispute the last lay-out 
 an' set up the old Gov'ment one agin. 
 
 "The new survey, ye know, was made last June, an' 
 the change o' lines 'tween Blake an' Miller was so 
 leetle that Blake never thought o' speakin' of it, only 
 jest in a jokin' way. Ye see, the west line o' Section 
 Twelve was changed much as three rods ; but as the 
 odds was all in favor of both of 'em, an' had to come 
 out o' the public road, which hadn't ben used but four 
 years, they both felt toler'ble good over it. 
 
 " But as I was sayin', Blake hadn't no idea that 
 Miller'd make trouble about the middle line, as there 
 was a good solid fence that they'd both built atween 
 'em ; but when his apples got ripe, he went down one 
 day an' begun pickin' some off'm the earliest tree. 
 An' while he was a-pickin' of 'em, here comes one o' 
 Miller's boys, with a bag slung over his arm, an' climbs 
 over the fence. 
 
 " ' 'Mornin', Joe ! ' says Blake, unsuspectin' as could 
 be. i Got through harvestin' % ? 
 
tf$ FRONTIER SKETCHES;-- 
 
 Ui Yes/ says Joe. 'Thought we'd better git mw& 
 o' these apples, now they're gittin' ripe. Pop says they 
 belong to him now, but you can have half of 'em this 
 year, bein* as you put out the trees ; or he'll pay ye for 
 your trouble in settin* 'em oat.' 
 
 "'He will, hay V snaps Blake, settin' down 'his pail 
 an' starin' at young Joe sarcastical like. ' Your dad's 
 a mighty generous fellow, aint he, now ? He'll give 
 me half the apples ! Give 'em to me, will he 1 "Waal, 
 I guess he will, for I sh'll take 'em, the whole of 'em, 
 not only" this year, but ev'ry year, and don't ye forget 
 that now, sonny ! ' 
 
 " At that, Joe, he kinder bridled up a leetle. ' I guess 
 my father's got a right in the Ian',' says he. 'An' he 
 told me to pick some o' these apples, an' I'm goin' to 
 take some of 'em home now,' and eyin' Blake kind o' 
 cautious-like, he reached up for a big yaller one that 
 hung a-tempting his jaws just above his head. 
 
 " ' Don't you touch that ! ' yells Blake, starting for 
 him in a way that made the boy dodge from under the 
 tree an' scramble for dear life over the fence. 
 
 " Waal, of course Miller was madder 'n a hornet, an 3 
 so, with his new survey back of him, he goes down tc 
 Squire Brennan's and sues Blake for trespass, an' sence 
 that time each one of 'em's had one o' their boys 
 watchm ; them apples, day an' night, to see 't other'n 
 didn't steal 'em. They mount guard out there like a 
 couple o' roosters, one on one side the fence an' the 
 other on t'other. One of 'em's afraid to touch iha 
 apples, an' the other dasn't." 
 
 " What'll be the outcome, think ? " asked Jones, as 
 Moses paused in his narrative, and again made use of 
 the huge bandanna. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 129 
 
 " The outcome ? Bless you, man, there won't be no 
 outcome to it. Squire Brennan can't decide the case, 
 an' if he did, 'twouldn't amount to nothin', an' no 
 decidin' ever will so long's there's a higher court to 
 carry the thing through, an' then they'll take a fresh 
 start an' go through agin. This is a case, ye see, for 
 trespass, but how're they goin' to make trespass out of 
 it till they can prove who the land belongs to ? " 
 
 " I see," said Jones ; " goin' to be a nice wrangle, 
 ain't it?" 
 
 " I s'h'd say so," muttered Moses. " But, Jones," 
 he added, getting upon his feet, "I must be goin'. 
 Do you see that black cloud off in the southwest? 
 Shouldn't wonder if we'd git another reg'lar old twister 
 when that comes up, an it's a-comin', too." 
 
 " Thought I heard it thunderin' an' kind o' rumblin 
 somewhar a bit ago," said Jones, rising. " I'm 'fraid 
 you're right, Mose, and I don't know but it is a good 
 plan for a feller to be gettin' around closest to his 
 suller." 
 
 " Yaas," returned Moses. " My wife and the young 
 ones have jest about half -lived in my dug-out this sum- 
 mer. Every time they see a cloud, they skedaddle for 
 i the house of refuge,' as Sarah calls it." 
 
 " Beats all how many o' them tornadoes goes ragin' 
 over this country lately," said Jones; "'pears like a 
 martaint safe nowheres," and bidding each other good- 
 day. the two men separated. 
 
 " Twister," as a word in Western parlance, has 
 atc«hied an entirely new signification within the last 
 two years, especially throughout the now famous storm 
 
130 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 belt extending from central Kansas in a northwesterly- 
 direction beyond tlie southern boundary of Minnesota. 
 
 The prevalence of those terrible storms known as 
 tornadoes, cyclones, and throughout this region as 
 " twisters," has become so alarming of late that in 
 some of the counties of Iowa the citizens take refuge 
 in their cellars during the summer season at the appear- 
 ance of every dark and threatening cloud. 
 
 In this region a large proportion of the farmers and 
 many of the townspeople dig out-of-door cellars, or 
 "under-ground houses," in which to shelter themselves 
 from the violence of these atmospheric disturbances. 
 
 On nearmg one of their dwellings, one notices, but a 
 few yards to one side, a heaped-up mound of earth, 
 with an opening in one end disclosing the frame-work 
 and top of a heavy door, tli8 bottom of which is 
 reached by a flight of steps cut into the earth in front . 
 The whole is constructed much after the pattern of the 
 summer milk-house of more Eastern farmers, and 
 indeed, most of the dug-outs are used for that purpose 
 also. 
 
 The genuine tornado, or " twister," — the one which 
 tears up everything in its track, — is generally preceded 
 by a short time of hot, " muggy" weather, and at 
 such times, when the feather-edged, dark-centred 
 nimbus floats lazily a mile or two above the farmer's 
 head, small spiral-shaped projections are often seen 
 suddenly darting downward from their centres, curl- 
 ing, twisting, steadily shooting ahead, sometimes 
 almost reaching the earth. Then, with a peculiar, 
 writhing motion, these snake-like columns of vapor 
 break up into little sections, or separate puffs, and 
 disappear as quickly as they were formed. 
 
FRONTIER SKETCHES. 131 
 
 Sometimes a dozen or more may be seen at a single 
 glance. On such days it is necessary to be on the look- 
 out, and if the cloud above one of those dark columns 
 grows suddenly black and emits flashes of lightning, 
 followed by the rumble of thunder, the " dug-out" is 
 the only safe retreat. 
 
 About three o'clock on the particular afternoon and 
 near the locality of which we write, the thermometer 
 at various places indicated 98° Fahrenheit in the 
 shade, and away towards the horizon in the south and 
 west could be seen piled-up masses of silver-tinted 
 thunder-clouds, their lowering bases sinning almost 
 out of sight behind the distant woods and fields. 
 
 " My ! what whoppin' old thunder-heads ! " thought 
 Billings Blake, as he sat sweltering beneath the shade 
 of one of the disputed apple-trees ; " guess Clem 
 Miller'll get sick of his bargain sittin' over there on 
 the south side of the fence. He dasn't come over here, 
 though," he soliloquized, " 'cause he knows I c'n lick 
 'im the best day he ever saw, an' he knows I will, too, 
 if he comes." 
 
 Clem did have a pretty hard place, to be sure ; for, 
 to tell the truth, he was afraid of young °Blake, and 
 so, as there were no trees on his side, he was obliged 
 to content himself with the small shelter afforded by 
 the green corn-stalks which grew beside the fence. 
 
 " I wish pa'd never made any row 'bout these misera- 
 ble old apple-trees," he grumbled, as he held his broad- 
 brimmed hat high over his head in order to shelter 
 himself from the scorching rays which would find their 
 way down through the corn leaves ; " I don't want to 
 be melted into taller a-watching them old apples that'll 
 
132 FRONTIER SKETCHES. 
 
 rot in two days after they're picked. I don't like the 
 looks of them clouds," he added, a moment later. 
 
 "Haloo, Clem!" 
 
 Could He believe his ears ? Yes, it was surely young 
 Billings Blake calling him. 
 
 " Want's me to come over there, and then lick me," 
 growled Clem. 
 
 " I say, Clem," bawled young Blake again. " Clem, 
 jest get up an' look over the hill yender. I believe 
 there's a twister a-comin'." 
 
 Clem got up and looked. 
 
 "'Tis sure enough, Bill," he answered. "Do ye 
 reckon it will come this way sure ? " 
 
 •' Dun no," said Billings. " I say, Clem, come over 
 here an' let's watch the thing ! " 
 
 It is curious how a common danger transforms the 
 bitterest enemies into the best of friends.- Clem got 
 over the fence without the slightest hesitation, and in 
 a moment the two boys, who just before would not 
 have deigned to speak to each other, stood together, 
 gazing in common fear and wonder upon a scene that 
 once witnessed is never forgotten. 
 
 Away to the southwest, several of those silvery- 
 edged, harmless-looking clouds had grown together, 
 and were rapidly approaching. Their sun-tinted col- 
 umns had suddenly changed color, and, black and 
 angry, they were tumbling together in ugly broken 
 masses, while forks of jagged lightning darted across 
 their lowering sides, and the distant growl of thunder 
 could be distinctly heard. 
 
 The wind sprang up, and began to stir the leaves of 
 the apple-trees, and to rustle the broad blades of corn, 
 while black masses of vapor swept hurriedly across the 
 
FEONTIEK SKETCHES. l$$ 
 
 sky, obscuring the sun, and hurling themselves into the 
 very midst of the huge pile, thus constantly swelling 
 its already enormous proportions. 
 
 " Mercy ! " said Clem, catching at his hat as a fresh 
 gust of wind swept past. " Mercy ! Bill, the wind's a- 
 blowin' from ev'ry direction, an' jest look at them 
 clouds ; they're a-comin' from every way, an' goin' every 
 where. Don't ye think we'd better git for shelter ? " 
 
 "Where sh'll we go, Clem, to better ourselves?" 
 asked his companion. " Ye can't tell where she'll strike 
 the hardest, and fer one, I'd rather be in the open 
 field than in the woods when there's a hurricane comin'. 
 But jest look at 'er." 
 
 Even as he spoke, the roar of the approaching hurri- 
 cane drowned his voice, and a round black column, 
 darting down from the center of the hurrying mass, 
 struck the timber across the hill with a roar and a crash 
 that was fairly deafening. 
 
 " Run, Clem ! Git for the field ! " yelled Bill ; and 
 the frightened boys scurried away toward the north, 
 and the fifty yards' run which they were then able to 
 make probably saved their lives. 
 
 On came the twisting, writhing storm, tearing the 
 earth, trees, grain and fences in its track, and filling 
 the air with a hideous din. Swiftly as the boys ran, 
 they were not fleet-footed enough to escape the effect 
 of the fearful side wind which accompanied the whirl- 
 ing cloud. 
 
 Clem felt his legs suddenly wrenched from under him, 
 and in a trice found himself turning the most astonish- 
 ing summersaults he had ever dreamed of. His hat 
 and shirt were literally torn away from him, and a 
 moment later, scratched, bruised, and lacerated tey 
 
164 FRONTIER SKETCffiHCS. 
 
 the corn stubs over which he had been tumbled, he 
 found himself lying on his back in a deep, dead furrow, 
 with six inches of muddy water slushing around him. 
 
 Bill had fared but little better, as, spattered with 
 mud and bleeding from half-a-dozen bruises, he picked 
 himself up from between two corn rows, where he had 
 been carried bodily. 
 
 " We are in a bad fix, sure," said Bill. " But jest 
 look down yonder in the track of 'er, will ye ? There's 
 a strip forty rods wide where there aintathing standin', 
 an' the ground's all ploughed ready for winter wheat. 
 Yes, an' — an' — an' — can I believe my eyes — the apple 
 trees are gone!" 
 
 " If they haint ! " answered Clem. "Hurrah, Bill! 
 your dad an' mine'll quit their quarrellm' now, won't 
 they, an' we'll all be friends an hunt ducks together 
 like we used to % " 
 
HUNTING STORIES 
 
 FRANK W. CALKINS 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 
 407-429 Dearborn St. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 I. Trapped by Traveling Mountain 5 
 
 II. The Horn-Hunter's Adventure 19 
 
 III. A Frightened Herd 26 
 
 IV. In the Bed River Country 34 
 
 V. The Bird-Catcher's Adventure 44 
 
 VI. A Fish Story. 58 
 
 VII. A Deadly Encounter 62 
 
 VIII. In the Catche Creek Woods 69 
 
 IX. Penned in with a Grizzly 80 
 
 X. Caught 89 
 
 XI. A Fight with Wolves 97 
 
 XII. In the Front of a Stampede... , 106 
 
 XIII. In Nick of Time 117 
 
 XIV. Chased 128 
 
 XV. A Dangerous Resemblance 135 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 i. 
 
 TRAPPED BY " TRAVELING MOUNTAIN." 
 
 It was when we — my brother Judson, Jack Imly 
 and I — were staying one spring at my father's cattle 
 ranch in Nevada that the curious and perilous advent- 
 ure I am about to tell happened to us. 
 
 It all came of Jack's getting acquainted with 
 Washoe Pete, a half-breed cow-boy employed on the 
 ranch, and " worming " out of him curious information 
 about the country where his tribe of Indians lived and 
 hunted. 
 
 Jack "pumped" every new acquaintance. More- 
 over, he was an inveterate curiosity hunter, and was 
 then collecting f ' specimens " to present to the museum 
 of the university at Sacramento, where we had been 
 students. His special pursuit was fossils and small 
 animals, birds and insects. He was a good taxider- 
 mist, and while at the ranch he secured and mounted a 
 number of rare specimens of batrachians, and also of a 
 queer little piping bird that was new to us. 
 
 From Washoe Pete he obtained a piece of intelli- 
 gence that excited him greatly. Pete told him of a 
 traveling mountain of sand that shifted about in the 
 great basin country near the Humboldt Mountains. 
 This mountain was, he said, steadily but slowly moving 
 across the basin plains, driven eastward by the prevail' 
 ing winds. 
 
6 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 It had moved a considerable distance within the 
 memory of the old men of his tribe, and had stopped 
 for nothing. It had crossed hills, canons and sage 
 plains with equal ease and speed. It sang a low, 
 mournful song, that could be heard night and day, and 
 it had a great conical hole, like the crater of a volcano, 
 Jack explained, in its top. Whoever passed over the 
 rim into the basin, or crater, was immediately engulfed 
 by the sands, and sank out of sight, to be seen no 
 more. 
 
 Several Washoe Indians had, according to Pete, paid 
 the penalty of their lives for daring the experiment of 
 attempting to cross the mountain-top. 
 
 Furthermore, he said, on the east side was a canon- 
 stream fed by the Humboldts that flowed down to the 
 sand mountain, and was " drunk up " at its base — as 
 other Nevada streams are by the sands of the Great 
 Basin. In the rocky walls of the stream were great 
 fissures and caves, where, according to the Indian 
 folk-lore, dwelt the spirits that sang in the mountain. 
 
 This was Jack's version of Pete's story translated 
 from the half-breed's cowboy-Indian dialect. Of 
 course, when this Indian superstition was added to the 
 story, we were disposed to make a considerable dis- 
 count on the rest of Pete's account of this wonderful 
 mountain; but there seemed to be enough in it to 
 arouse curiosity, and it certainly impelled us to inves- 
 tigate it. 
 
 As the mountain was said to be but little more than 
 one hundred miles from the ranch, we finally concluded 
 to go down and explore this curious phenomenon, 
 and had no difficulty in persuading the ranch superin- 
 tendent, for neither father nor any other members of 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 7 
 
 the family ever lived there, to let us make the trip. 
 He allowed us to select three ridden ponies, a pair of 
 burros for pack purposes, and to take Washoe Pete, 
 with his riding pony, for a guide. 
 
 We completed our preparations on the morning of 
 the 5th of May, and set out in the gayest spirits imag- 
 inable. We had the burros well " packed " with 
 blankets, flour, bacon, coffee, canned fruit and cooking 
 utensils. 
 
 We found it hot and disagreeable work riding over 
 the dry sand and alkali plains, and through the belts 
 of sage and grease- wood ; but Pete proved a trustworthy 
 guide, and at night we always camped near a plen- 
 tiful supply of water, brackish and unpalatable, how- 
 ever, until boiled, when it made very good coffee. 
 
 We had guns and ammunition, but there was no 
 game in the country save jack-rabbits and sage hens, 
 and these were not fit to eat at that time of the year. 
 
 The Humboldts were in sight most of the time, loom- 
 ing up in the east, and the snow, which had not melted 
 off their crests and out of their gulches, lay in white 
 patches and streaks about their tops. 
 
 About noon on the fifth day we were jogging along 
 over a hot, shimmering alkali flat, when Pete, who 
 was riding ahead, halted, and pointed away in the dis- 
 tance to a great yellowish, gray mound that showed 
 indistinct through the haze. 
 
 "That him!' 3 said he. "He tlavel (travel) that 
 way," with a sweep of his hand off to the left. "My 
 peop ( people) live 'way yonda now,'* and he pointed 
 again, this time to the right of the mound. 
 
 We watched, with curiosity, " Traveling Mountain," 
 as we had named it already, X)n one side of the moun~ 
 
8 HUNTING STOKIES. 
 
 tain the country was a barren plain, broken only by 
 heaps of sand and by gullies, out of which these mounds 
 seemed to have been scooped. 
 
 We neared the base of the sand mountain at about 
 four o'clock, and found before us a great oblong hill 
 that was, as near as could be judged from our point of 
 view, some four or five hundred feet high, and perhaps 
 three miles in length — not much of a mountain, but an 
 oblong, irregular sand bluff, with curious serrated 
 ridges running from the top down nearly to the base, 
 where they seemed to blend together. 
 
 There was no air stirring at this time, and, of course, 
 no sand moving, but I remember a distinct feeling, that 
 we boys all spoke of, that the big mound looked all 
 ready to move ; that it had an air about it of seeming 
 to be merely resting. 
 
 However, we did not stop long that evening to view 
 the mountain ; it was hot, dry, and hard traveling, and 
 as our ponies' and burros' small, hard hoofs sank deep 
 into the sand, Pete said we must keep them going, in 
 order to get around and reach the " cave canon," where 
 we should find water and a cool camping spot, and 
 where, also, there was feed for the animals. 
 
 We found the country quite different when we nad 
 got around on the opposite side, the side facing the 
 Humboldts ; it was rough and broken by canons, in 
 several of which, as we scrambled down and through 
 them, we saw pools of brackish water. 
 
 At first we were compelled to make a considerable 
 detour away from the sand mountain, but at dusk we 
 came back near to it again, above the mouth of a rocky 
 canon, through which ran the stream that Pete had 
 
 /* 
 
HUNTING 6T0EIES. 9 
 
 mentioned, where the singing spirits were supposed to 
 dwell. 
 
 Below us in the gray dusk we could see the big 
 mound stretching diagonally across the canon, and 
 Pete told us the water was backed up below, and 
 soaked into the sands of the mountain by degrees. 
 
 The soil of the canon was a hard-baked, red clay. 
 Clumps of grease-wood grew here and there and 
 in patches a short, thin, wiry grass, that was 
 already nearly burned dry by -the summer heat, though 
 it offered the best of feed to our close-cropping ponies 
 and burros. 
 
 "We found the water the best we had met on the trip, 
 and had a pleasant camp that night, as the weather in 
 this region is always cool between sunset and sunrise. 
 
 The next morning we-were up at daylight, and ready 
 to begin explorations. We joked Pete about the 
 spirits, and asked where the caves were in which they 
 lived, and also why they had not " turned up " during 
 the night ; but the half-breed had suddenly grown 
 reticent, and refused to answer our badinage. In fact, 
 he began to act very queerly. 
 
 After repicketing the ponies ana burros upon new 
 ground, while we boys were preparing breakfast, Pete 
 wandered up through the gap at the mouth of which 
 we were camped, and stood for some time upon a high, 
 rocky point overlooking the country to the northeast. 
 
 When he came down, he announced that he had 
 seen a smoke '"way off" — he pointed toward the 
 Humboldts — and that he thought a hunting-party of 
 his "peops" were up there killing young bush-rabbits. 
 We had before learned that they are extremely fond of 
 
10 HUNTING STOEIES. 
 
 these tender creatures, and make forays upon them 
 every spring. 
 
 After this, while we were eating breakfast, we 
 noticed that Pete frequently glanced uneasily at the 
 big yellow-gray mound that stretched obliquely across 
 the gap some half a mile below. 
 
 " That mounting," he said at length, with seeming 
 indifference, " that mounting he come 'way up this 
 away since two yea' now. He got mad at speyets, an' 
 have bayed (buried) um in um cave. You neveh hea* 
 um sing no mo' now." 
 
 Then he arose, and coolly announced that he should 
 ride off to see the party of his " hunt folks," while we 
 stayed at the mountain. He would be back the next 
 morning, he said, and then we should go home. 
 
 Nothing we could say would induce him to remain, 
 and he rode away and left us, provoked and disap- 
 pointed enough. 
 
 It seemed, after all, that there was nothing to see 
 but a big pile of sand, that was blown about by the 
 winds, as we had seen other smaller heaps blown about 
 on sand-flats in California. 
 
 Pete, we surmised, must have ascribed the marked 
 change in the position of the sand mountain, since he 
 had seen it last, to some occult cause, and, possessed of 
 his superstitious notion, had, Indian-like, made haste to 
 get out of the neighborhood. . 
 
 We suddenly lost interest in the " big sand heap," 
 declared the trip a flat failure, and were thoroughly 
 disgusted. If we had not been angry at Pete, we 
 should have packed the burros, mounted our ponies, 
 and set out after him in the hope of meeting with an 
 adventure of some sort. 
 
HUNTING 8T0EIES. 11 
 
 As it was, we stayed, and met with one which seems 
 incredible to relate, yet which came about from as 
 natural a cause as any phenomenon connected with 
 the traveling mountain. 
 
 It happened thus : 
 
 We had gone down the stream, bent upon explora- 
 tion, and had easily discovered the process by which 
 the great mound was encroaching upon and filling up 
 the canon. The wind, prevailing from the west, had 
 blown the sand across its top and along its sides above 
 the level of the canon's walls, and piled them in ridges 
 and heaps, which, like snow accumulating upon a steep 
 mountain-side, had caved off, slid, and settled into the 
 abyss below. 
 
 We could see several fresh " breaks," where huge 
 piles of sand — probably from the settling of the mass 
 below them — had recently given away, and had pre- 
 cipitated their bulk in a long shooting slide down the 
 side of the mound to the very foot of its base in the 
 canon. 
 
 The mound loomed up above us like a huge embank- 
 ment, and reminded us of the big "dump " of a gigan- 
 tic piece of grading. 
 
 We tried to climb, but found the sides too steep and 
 the sand too soft and yielding, and, in fact, we never 
 got to the top of the traveling mountain. We 
 searched for caves along the canon walls, but found 
 only some big cracks and fissures in the gray sand- 
 stone at their bases. 
 
 The atmosphere was still ; there had been no Wind 
 since we had arrived the night before, and, as the sun 
 mounted, the air of the canon grew hot and stifling. 
 We bathed our heads and limbs in the water that lay 
 
IS HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 backed up in the channel soaking into the sands, but 
 the liquid was hot and oozy, and had a depressing 
 effect. 
 
 The sun had got round so that there was no shade 
 from the rocky walls,~and we were thinking of going 
 back to camp and making a shade by spreading our 
 blankets over grease- wood bushes, when Jack proposed 
 that we should crawl into a fissure in the rocks that 
 we had discovered, where a sand-slide had poured over 
 the cliff and shot obliquely across the opening. 
 
 We had laughingly wondered if there were any 
 "spirits" living in that "big crack," and now Jack 
 thought we might crawl in tjiere and cool off at the 
 risk of disturbing them. We went over and looked in. 
 
 It was a fissure wide enough to creep into and sit 
 down in, and extended back some eight or ten feet 
 before narrowing away, as it did, again to the solid 
 wall. We got on our hands and knees and went in, 
 getting back into a_wider space behind the sand-slide 
 where the sun had not been able to beat in that morn- 
 ing, and we found the place tolerably cool and com- 
 fortable. 
 
 As the roof of the fissure slanted downward, the 
 sand, of course, could only fill in to the natural angle 
 or slant of its fall, and so there was plenty of room 
 for us in a sitting or lying posture. 
 
 But, to hasten the story, we had been sitting there 
 but a few minutes when Judson, who was a good 
 marksman, proposed that we should try our rifles 
 upon the sand-rocks of the opposite canon wall, whioh 
 we could see by looking obliquely past the line of the 
 " dump ", as we termed the great mass which had slid 
 down there. 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 13 
 
 " I'll bet," said Judson, " that I can make the sand 
 fly most awful close to that crack in the big gray rock 
 that stands out on that point yonder ; " and, bringing 
 his knees up in front of him, and " resting " his "Win- 
 chester across them, he took careful aim and fired. 
 
 Sometimes even yet I fancy that explosion rings in 
 my ears. It sounded as though a hundred cannons 
 had all been fired off at once. 
 
 Before the echo of it ceased, we were startled by a 
 swift, rustling, whistling sound, and like a flash a 
 heavy rush of sand shot down across the dpening in 
 front of our eyes, falling with a heavy whoosh and 
 shut the fissure in until we were left in almost total 
 darkness. 
 
 For some seconds we sat in silence, utterly stunned 
 by the calamity which had befallen us. During that 
 moment I think we were all staring fixedly at the slim 
 line of light left at the farther end of the fissure, then 
 Jack broke the silence in a scared voice. 
 
 u We're buried alive!" he exclaimed. "We can 
 never get out through that crack yonder in the world." 
 
 " It was the gun," said Judson. a How horrible ! " 
 
 As for me, I was too much frightened to find my 
 roice yet. But Jack, who was the smallest, and, I 
 think, the coolest and quickest-witted, immediately got 
 on his hands and knees and crept forward to explore 
 the chances of getting out. 
 
 As he wriggled up into the narrow space that was 
 left between us and the only remaining crack* of light, 
 Judson and I were enveloped in the densest of darkness. 
 
 " Well, how is it ? " asked Judson at length, and I 
 held my breath for the answer. 
 
 "Slim chance," he answered. His voice, though 
 
14 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 sounding hollow and weird, seemed strangely cool. 
 "Cracks 'bout six inches wide where the sand cuts 
 across. I can reach out nearly to it with my hand 
 from where I lay, and back about four feet here there's 
 space enough to crawl through by tight squeezing. 
 Only show's to dig out, and I don't believe it can be 
 done from the inside, for the sand'll run in fast as we 
 can dig. If one of us was only outside ! " 
 
 "Try digging," said Judson. 
 
 Jack went at it. He dug for some time, while we 
 sat in perfect silence, fearfully awaiting the result. 
 
 "It's no use," he announced, despairingly, after 
 working desperately for what seemed an age ; " there's 
 such a tremendous bulk above outside that it pours in 
 faster than I can dig. If we try to dig out we shall 
 only fill this hole all up and be worse off than we are 
 now." 
 
 We groaned in dismay. The situation was truly 
 horrible. "We were literally buried alive. I shall 
 never forget the terrible emotions of that time, when 
 escape seemed impossible. 
 
 Jack, after lying some time longer peering out at 
 the crevice, said : " I've thought of a way to get us 
 out, fellows, when Pete comes." 
 
 My heart bounded at the mention of the half-breed's 
 name ; I had not thought of him. 
 
 " It'll take some time," continued Jack, calmly, " but 
 it can be done, if only there don't come another slide, 
 and Pete has sense and wit enough to come and look 
 us up. I don't think there can be such slides every 
 day, and Pete'll surely come down here in the morning 
 when he finds we're not in camp. 
 
 "We now began to hope that there was a chance of 
 
HUNTING STORIES, 15 
 
 rescue, but we knew that it would be a terrible trial of 
 patience and endurance to be cooped up in that dark 
 hole, no one could say how many hours, without food 
 or water. 
 
 Jack crawled back to where we were and told his 
 plan. It was to watch for Pete in the morning, hail 
 him through the crack when he came within sight, 
 explain the situation, have him bring biscuits, water 
 and a lariat, and while we were satisfying our hunger 
 he could begin digging at the sand near the crevice. 
 
 He would need to remove a great deal of sand, but 
 Jack thought the opening might be made large enough 
 to admit of our being drawn out one at a time by the 
 lariat, though he admitted it would be "tight wriggling 
 and an awful sight of work." At any rate, we should 
 not starve, and if only another slide did not occur, he 
 felt sure " the thing could be done." 
 
 But then, if Pete should be frightened and not come 
 within reach of our voices, or if another slide should 
 take place. 
 
 Ah, that terrible if I 
 
 The chance of escape from that living tomb seemed 
 frightfully small, even when calculating it in our cool- 
 est moments. For the present there was nothing to do 
 but to wait. Such a waiting ! The agony of that sus- 
 pense cannot be described. 
 
 At first, after pulling in sand enough to make a com- 
 fortable bed to lie on, we only suffered from the natural 
 terror and suspense of the situation, but, as the hours 
 wore on, the pangs of hunger, and more especially of 
 thirst, became little less than torture. 
 
 The day passed slowly, and my memory of the night 
 that followed is confused. I spent it tossing about in 
 
16 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 a burning fever, induced by fright, anxiety and extreme 
 thirst. The other boys fared little better. 
 
 At daylight, however, we had life enough to discover 
 that oar chance of escape had not been diminished by 
 the falling of more sand, and Jack, gaining hope and 
 courage, crawled forward to be on the lookout for 
 Pete. 
 
 We tried to talk, but our tongues were parched, and 
 a burning sensation of the throat and stomach proved 
 too depressing fpr effort in that direction. 
 
 The hours dragged on, and still Pete did not come. 
 
 How we raged at the cowardly half-breed I 
 
 We waited until near noon, and then, in a fury of 
 despair and terror, I declared to Jack and Judson that 
 we "must dig" that I would "dig into the sandpile and 
 die there, smother^ rather than burn up in this horrible 
 hole." 
 
 At that we began digging. Jack, at the narrowest 
 part of the opening where it was thought we could 
 crawl through, pawed the sand out and threw it behind 
 him to Judson, who passed it on to me, and I threw it 
 still farther back into the fissure. 
 
 We had worked an hour, perhaps, and I for one had 
 started the sweat and felt better, when Jack suddenly 
 exclaimed : 
 
 '•' Thanh goodness, there's Pete! " 
 
 The open crack, though small, still commanded, from 
 where we lay, quite an extensive view of the canon, 
 and, peering over Jack's shoulder, Judson and I saw 
 Pete slowly and cautiously moving down along the 
 channel of the stream, peering this way and that as he 
 came. 
 
 He had discovered that something was amiss, and 
 
HUNTING STORIES. IT 
 
 was evidently ooth frightened and filled with some 
 superstitious notion. When the half-breed had come 
 up within a few yards. Jack put his hands to his 
 mouth so as to throw the sound outside and spoke to 
 him. 
 
 Pete was startled and looked frightened enough, but 
 as Jack, in a husky voice, proceeded to explain our 
 situation, he glanced up at the mountain and down at 
 the crevice with quick intelligence. Without waiting 
 for Jack to finish or give any instructions, he flung up 
 on© hand with a gesture of comprehension, and saying, 
 "Wait; I come back quick?" bounded away toward 
 the camp. 
 
 He was back in a few minutes, and with him came 
 three Indians, all on their ponies. Pete had brought 
 coffee and biscuits, which he passed in to us, the liquid 
 in a tin cup, and the biscuits by tossing them through, 
 while his fellows stood about giving vent to grunts of 
 amazement. 
 
 In five minutes we were new beings, filled with hope, 
 courage and strength. 
 
 " We git you out," said Pete, and they all went at it 
 and dug with might and main. 
 
 As they dug, the sand slid down from a great space 
 above, and it took them hours to remove enough to 
 enable them to get at us, and then only by a piece of 
 ingenuity of Pete's devising. 
 
 They burrowed in by using three big Mexican saddles 
 to make a tunnel. These saddles they placed hollow 
 side to the crevice, shoving one ahead of the other 
 until an arched tunnel was formed through which each 
 m% of the prisoners was drawn oat by lariat 
 
18 
 
 HUNTING- STORIES. 
 
 "We came through somewhat bruised and jammed, 
 but thankful. 
 
 The wind was blowing when we got outside, and the 
 sand was falling over the bluff, sifting down with a rus- 
 tling murmur which indicated to Pete and his brother 
 Indians that the mountain spirits were free again. 
 
 j^fetef^: ■» 
 
 "We git you out," said Pete.— Page 17 
 
 If they really were, and felt as light-hearted as we 
 three boys did, they were spirits truly to be envied. 
 
 We set out for home the next morning, having had 
 quite enough experience with Traveling Mountain, 
 The Indians rode all the way back with us, for the 
 sake, as we believed, of the food which we were glad 
 to furnish in consideration of their services to us. 
 
n. 
 
 I'flE HORN-HUNTER'8 ADVENTURE. 
 
 Trophy heads of Buffalo, elk and other animals have 
 been favorite tavern signs ever since the days cf our 
 Saxon ancestors, but the " craze " for polished buffalo 
 and Texas steer horns is of much more recent date. 
 Indeed, it has been but lately discovered by relic-ven- 
 ders that the horns of the American bison are suscep- 
 tible of a very beautiful ebony-like polish, which 
 renders them highly ornamental. Since this fact has 
 become known, however, the demand for them has 
 increased, until the present traffic in them has grown 
 to be both extensive and lucrative. 
 
 The new stations and towns along the line of the 
 Northern Pacific and of the Canadian Pacific railways 
 are the present headquarters of the trade, since these 
 new railroads penetrate the old haunts of the bison. 
 
 Here the bone-picker, horn-gatherer and relic-hunter 
 have, for two years past, been reaping an abundant 
 and profitable harvest. Bones for fertilizing purposes, 
 at from twelve to sixteen dollars per ton, buffalo horns 
 at fifty cents a pair, and occasionally^ set of elk-antlers, 
 worth from five to fifteen dollars, according to their 
 size and beauty, furnish a virgin harvest for the few 
 who have the hardihood to scour the great solitary 
 plains and lonely mountain ranges of this wild region. 
 
 Some months ago the writer chanced to fall in with 
 two young men, then on their return from the Yellow- 
 stone country, who related, in the way of conversa- 
 
 19 
 
%0 JIUWTIN© 8T0&IES. 
 
 tion, several interesting instances from their experience 
 in horn and "specimen" hunting along the Rose- 
 bud and its tributaries. 
 
 They were then, and are now, students at a Western 
 college, and having their own expenses to pay, had gone 
 out on the plains last summer, during the vacation 
 season, to see what could be done in the way of mak- 
 ing money. They set off prepared for the work, and 
 had made a market in advance with a friend in Chi- 
 cago, who kept a general curiosity shop, for all the 
 buffalo horns which they might be able to gather and 
 polish. 
 
 They took with them a stout wall tent and a couple 
 of breech-loading rifles, and after arriving at Eosebud 
 purchased two strong pack-ponies, some cooking uten- 
 sils and provisions. Thus equipped, they moved out 
 to a distance of twenty miles or more, to a region 
 which had been famous for buffalo-hunting during the 
 previous winter, pitched their tent, and began opera- 
 tions. 
 
 As the horns have to be polished perfectly in order 
 to command the highest price, one of the boys was 
 obliged to stay at the tent and work constantly with 
 knife, glass, and paper and emory. The other, mean- 
 time, scoured the plains on horseback, with pack-sack, 
 rifle and horn-hammer (a light hammer for knocking 
 the horn loose from the skull), and came in at night 
 invariably loaded down with big " tossers." 
 
 The ground there in many places was literally 
 strewn with buffalo skeletons. 
 
 As was quite natural in such a region, some excit- 
 ing incidents befell them, several, in fact, with a 
 genuine flavor of adventure. One of them, whole 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 21 
 
 name is Hollingsworth (" Rufe," his companion called 
 him), gave the following account of anr adventure with 
 two mountain lions, or rather with a ^family of those 
 dangerous beasts. It happened during the first part 
 of August, shortly after they had moved their camp 
 up a small branch of the Rosebud, to the mouth of a 
 timbered, rocky canon, known among hunters as 
 Starving Crow Gulch. 
 
 Eufe was riding down the gulch late one evening, 
 after an unusually long trip after horns. He was 
 leading the other pony behind him, packed with two 
 large sacks, astride of which, and tied on, rested a 
 magnificent pair of elk antlers. As he jogged on, he 
 was congratulating himself on the prospective receipts 
 of their next shipment from Kosebud, when, with a 
 low growl, some big creature sprang, from a thicket of 
 underbrush near at hand, and drew itself up directly 
 in front of his pony ! 
 
 Surprised and greatly frightened, the animal which 
 he rode sprang snorting backward, pitching Eufe 
 forward upon the pommel. At the same instant the 
 other pony, whose stout lariat was securely fastened 
 to a -ring in the rear of a saddle-tree, dashed wildly 
 ahead. The shock proved too much for the girth, 
 which was an old and long-used one; it snapped, and 
 Rufe was thrown heels over head to the ground. 
 Worse still, one foot hung in the stirrup, and for sev- 
 eral rods he was dragged, sprawling, over the rough 
 ground, after a terribly rough-and-tumble fashion; then 
 the stirrup lost its grip, and he lay for some seconds 
 so stunned and bruised as hardly to recollect what had 
 happened. 
 
 But at length he pulled himself together — as an 
 
22 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 Englishman would say — and staggered to his feet. As 
 he did so, he heard the distant clatter of his ponies' 
 hoofs as they fled one up and the other down the gulch. 
 First he rubbed his bruised arms and legs vigorously, 
 and concluding that he had no bones broken, bethought 
 himself to look about and pick up his gun, which he 
 knew must have been thrown from its open holster on 
 the saddle. The full moon was shining brightly in the 
 east, but the steep, black sides of the gulch, the shadows 
 of the rocks, trees and undergrowth, rendered his 
 search an uncertain one. He was, as he frankly 
 acknowledged, afraid to go back where the wild creature 
 had sprung out and frightened his animals, for he 
 strongly suspected the nature of the beast; and he 
 had heard stories of the mountain lion which made him 
 feel rather weak-kneed at the prospect of meeting one 
 in such a place. 
 
 He continued back through the bushes, however, 
 until he reached the small opening where he had been 
 thrown from his pony. But as he stepped out into the 
 clear space, a shrill scream came from the bushes close 
 by — a horrible, unearthly cry, utterly beyond descrip- 
 tion — that literally raised his hair, and sent a prickly 
 chill over his whole body. This scream was followed 
 by a whining, snuffling sound, as of a young puppy 
 badly frightened. 
 
 Rufe drew back from the bushes into the middle of 
 the opening, where the light was strongest, and looked 
 nervously about him. He could see nothing ; but he 
 dared not run, fearing that such a display of alarm 
 would invite an attack from the "lion." Again the 
 creature sent forth from the brush a terrific scream ; 
 and this time an answering cry came from the opposite 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 23 
 
 side, so close at hand that Rufe turned in terror, 
 expecting to see this second lion ready to leap upon 
 him. 
 
 A moment later a long-bodied animal stalked out 
 from the shade of a clump of willows, showing itself in 
 the open ground, scarcely thirty feet distant from where 
 Rufe stood! Its attitude was threatening, its eyes 
 glowed, it snarled savagely, and its long tail swept 
 from side to side ! 
 
 For a moment the horn-hunter was too much fright- 
 ened to stir from the spot ; yet he retained sense enough 
 to fully comprehend the situation. He was facing a 
 full-grown male lion, which had undoubtedly come at 
 the call of its mate, to help in protecting their young j 
 In a word, he had stumbled on a nest of mountain 
 lions, in the night, and had nothing but a small hunting- 
 knife with which to defend himself. 
 
 For an instant he gave himself up as lost, then 
 seeing that the beast did not spring, he recovered his 
 nerve a little, and began thinking of escape. 
 
 There stood the powerful brute, its outline quite 
 distinct in the moonlight. 
 
 Rufe now determined to try the effect of a move- 
 ment ; for he could endure the strain of such suspense 
 no longer. Accordingly, he stepped slowly backward ; 
 but as he did so the creature's furious lashings and 
 snarlings grew louder, seconded by deep growls from 
 its mate. 
 
 Determined, if possible, however, to reach and climb 
 one of the nearest cotton woods, Rufe took another 
 backward step. As he moved his foot, the spur on his 
 heel clinked faintly against something, with a metallic 
 sound ; and divining instantly what it was, he looked 
 
24 HUNTINa STORIES. 
 
 down and saw the barrel of his rifle lying directly 
 between his feet. He had been standing almost over it> 
 while looking in vain on all sides ! 
 
 At sight of it, his heart gave a joyful throb ; he 
 stooped quickly, picked it up ; and as he straightened 
 up to look out for the enemy again, he saw the male 
 lion walking slowly across the moonlit space, not ten 
 paces in front of him ! 
 
 It was circling around him preparatory to an attack. 
 It walked with a sidling motion, lashing out its tail, 
 its big head turned towards him. 
 
 Slowly and carefully, as one whose life depended on 
 his skill in shooting, Eufe drew the gun to his face, 
 and taking aim as perfect as the light admitted of, 
 fired ! — and instantly threw another cartridge forward 
 for a second shot. But the animal had dropped in its 
 tracks, as though struck by lightning ; and without a 
 sound, save a little gurgle in its throat, it gave two or 
 three kicks, and lay as lifeless as a log T 
 
 It was a powerful animal, even though lying dead, 
 and seen by moonlight. Its body, including the head, 
 was more than five feet in length, and its tail some four 
 feet more. 
 
 Eufe had no more fear of lions that night. He spent 
 some minutes examining the animal, satisfying his 
 curiosity generally with regard to its species. Then 
 he started for home, but met Mayhew, his partner, 
 riding out the pack-pony — which had run directly to 
 camp— to see what had become of him. Together 
 they went back, built a fire for light, and skinned the 
 lion before returning. 
 
 Next morning the other pony came in ; and during 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 25 
 
 the forenoon they found the elk antlers undamaged, 
 and secured also a part of the buffalo horns, which had 
 been scattered along the pack-pony's route, as it ran 
 
in. 
 
 A FRIGHTENED HERD. 
 
 During the autumn of '82 and the winter following 
 a number of the writer's friends ( among them " Mell " 
 Green ) spent several months in buffalo-hunting, upon 
 a branch of the Powder River, in Montana Territory. 
 
 They had gone to that region with the idea of form- 
 ing a "cattle company ;" but after some prospecting, 
 the plan was given up, and then the young men — there 
 were six in the party, all sportsmen by instinct and 
 some practice — speedily took the buffalo fever. For 
 there were here, even at that late date, considerable 
 " bands " of these animals along the branches of the 
 Big Horn and Powder Rivers ; and the killing of them 
 for their skins had not yet ceased to be an exciting and 
 a profitable business. 
 
 Much is said about protecting elk, deer and buffalo 
 in the West. No one doubts, I suppose, that these 
 noble game animals should be protected by law 
 strictly enforced, or that the slaughter of them for 
 their hides merely is infamous. But so long as foreign 
 sportsmen are permitted to come here and shoot to 
 their hearts' content, it is hardly to be expected that 
 the American settler will refrain from so doing. For 
 why should he spare the game — for English and 
 French sportsmen to shoot ? So, at least, he reasons, 
 though it is not the broad view of the case. 
 
 My friends were well equipped with the best of 
 modern sporting rifles; and after purchasing riding 
 
 26 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 27 
 
 ponies, pack animals, provisions, blankets, and the nec- 
 essary articles of camp equipage, it only remained to 
 select a hunting-ground and build a " shack." They 
 finally pitched upon the Chalk Buttes region as their 
 range. There are a chain of white-capped mounds 
 skirting a small branch of the Powder River. There 
 are a considerable number of these buttes — high, con- 
 spicuous bluffs, capped each with ledges of chalk-rock 
 and having their steep sides covered with stunted 
 pines, loose boulders and hill grass. 
 
 The valley of the stream, and all the rough country 
 lying around the buttes was then carpeted thickly with 
 the short, curly, nutritious buffalo grass. Many small 
 " bunches" of buffalo and deer, and immense bands of 
 antelope, fed over this range, which was also grazing- 
 -ground for their ponies and mules. So the boys " pre- 
 empted " this locality early in the season. 
 
 They built their shack of logs cut from the tall, slim 
 cottonwoods which grew along the creek. It was a 
 commodious affair, sixteen by twenty-six, with a stone 
 fire-place, two small windows and a roof of poles cov- 
 ered with turf. The situation was picturesque. For 
 they were on high ground, overlooking the creek valley 
 on the west side, but at the very base of a high butte 
 on the other, almost in the base, in fact, space having 
 been dug back into the abrupt bank for a part of the 
 foundation. The steep, conical bluff, with its chevaux 
 defrise of charred, stubby pines and its battlements of 
 chalk-rock, towered above the low cabin like a shelter- 
 ing fortress. 
 
 At this comfortable " headquarters " the party lived 
 for several months, fetching their water up hill and 
 bringing their wood down from the side of the butte. 
 
28 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 Hereabouts they hunted, going off for many miles on 
 all sides of the shack, starting early in the morning and 
 often coming in very late at night. Sometimes they 
 were lucky, and came toiling back to the shack from 
 all directions loaded with pelts and with exciting after- 
 supper stories to tell ; and sometimes, though rarely, 
 they all came in empty-handed. 
 
 By midwinter a score or more of three-cornered curing 
 racks, made of light poles set in crotches, had been 
 erected and were plentifully hung with buffalo skins. 
 These robe-draped racks added not a little to the pic- 
 turesqueness of their surroundings ; and the incidents 
 of their daily life here were rough, venturesome, and 
 often wildly exciting. I am indebted to my friend 
 "Mell" for the following account of an adventure 
 which occurred at the shack one morning: 
 
 " We had just eaten breakfast," said he, "and were 
 bringing up our horses to saddle and get ready for the 
 day's hunt, when Tom Wrisley, who was just ahead of 
 me with his pony, stopped short, and sang out : * Look 
 at old Jack, Mell ! ' 
 
 " Jack was a large pack-mule that we had bought at 
 Miles. He possessed all the characteristics of the mule 
 in general, and had besides several striking qualities 
 peculiar to himself. He was blessed with the keenest 
 eyesight and the finest sense of hearing of any creature 
 I have ever seen, and he was a pointer too. Yes, a 
 genuine pointer, and as good a one as any bird-dog you 
 ever hunted over. 
 
 "There couldn't an animal come within sight or 
 hearing, no, or a bird, but he was sure to clap his eyes 
 upon it and to make a straight l point ' at it. Then he 
 would stand stock-still, ears and nose aimed in the same 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 29 
 
 direction and on parallel lines ; and he would stand so 
 until his curiosity was satisfied, and he had concluded 
 whether to run or keep his ground. „ And when he had 
 once concluded, he stood or ran without regard to con- 
 sequences. 
 
 " When Tom called my attention to him, I looked, 
 and there stood the old fellow gazing up the side of the 
 butte, his nostrils wide open, his big ears making a 
 straight point for the chalk-ledges, and his hair all 
 bristled up on end. I had never seen him look that 
 way but once before, and that was when he had sighted 
 a cinnamon bear. He usually wore an air of mild 
 curiosity at the sight of strange objects; a kind of 
 gentle surprise seemed to beam out all over him. 
 
 " ' Something uncommon up there,' said Tom ; ' cin- 
 namon, I reckon.' And we both stared hard up at the 
 top of the ledge. 
 
 " We didn't see anything at first ; but in a few 
 seconds we both started in the same breath and 
 exclaimed — 
 
 11 ' Buffalo r 
 
 " And indeed it was queer we hadn't seen them at 
 the first glance ; for they stood on the extreme edge of 
 a narrow ' bench' at the foot of the chalk-ledge, their 
 dark bodies outlined plain against the white crag, and 
 not more than seven hundred feet above us. They 
 seemed to be looking down at us, over the tops of the 
 stumpy pines, with as much interest as we were regard- 
 ing them. 
 
 " ' Twenty-seven of 'em ! ' muttered Tom. ' We must 
 have them ! ' 
 
 " By this time the other boys had sighted them, and 
 were scudding to the shack for their guns. 
 
30 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 " In a minute or less time we had the ponies tied, 
 
 and the six of us were outside, guns in hand, watching 
 the herd from behind the curing racks and the corners 
 of the cabin. 
 
 " The game didn't seem in any hurry to move, but 
 just stood and looked down with a lazy curiosity that 
 was rather tantalizing. Jack was still staring up at 
 them, but his hair had slicked down, and the old air of 
 mild and ruminating wonder had taken the place of his 
 first ferocious stare. 
 
 " Tom and I stood by the corner of the shack. 4 I'm 
 going to fire,' said he. 
 
 " 'All right,' said I ; ' try that big bull near the 
 centre.' 
 
 " Tom had a heavy 40-90 Sharp. He laid the barrel 
 across the end of a projecting log, sighted up at the 
 bull and fired. All the rest of us followed suit, and 
 five 'more bullets went whizzing up the butte. The 
 balls did execution; four of the unwieldy creatures, 
 hard hit and unable to turn, fell, or leaped off their 
 path ; and these knocked off several others, half the 
 whole herd, in fact. They came plunging and tum- 
 bling down the steep side of the butte like an avalanche. 
 
 " I wish I could describe that scene just as it looked ! 
 I have heard a great many stories how buffaloes climb 
 the buttes and post sentinels, and how they will some- 
 times charge down a bluff ; but I never saw nor heard 
 anything like that. At every lunge those great brutes 
 made clouds of loose dirt and dry dust flew up in front 
 of them, while close at their heels rattled a volley of 
 small stones and not a few good-sized boulders. 
 
 " We could see it all plainly through the burnt and 
 scattering pines ; and we opened a rapid fusillade on 
 
HUNTING STOKIES. 
 
 31 
 
 them. Yet they never swerved — they couldn't — but 
 just bore down on us like a young cyclone. As they 
 neared the foot of the butte, we all scuttled in behind 
 the shack, and then kept firing up over the top of it. 
 
 They came plunging and tumbling down. — Page 30. 
 
 " Old Jack and the ponies had snapped their tie-ropes 
 and galloped wildly away. The buffaloes, most of 
 them, scattered out somewhat ; but there were three 
 or four of them pointing straight down for the shack. 
 A lucky shot brought down one of them and ended 
 him off to one side, so that he missed the shanty and 
 
32 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 rolled past our corner ; two more of them sheered off 
 at this, but the last one, a bullet-proof old bull, came 
 lunging straight down for the roof of the shack. Sev- 
 eral shots hit him ; but on he came, like a locomotive, 
 and with a mighty bound landed squarely in the mid- 
 dle of the roof. A cannon-ball could not have struck 
 it much harder. He went plump through, and — 
 mercy ! how the turf and broken poles flew away to 
 make room for him ! Almost at the same instant, sev- 
 eral great boulders came bounding down ; and one of 
 them, striking the top of our stone chimney, sent a 
 shower of rocks flying away in front of it. Still other 
 big stones came thundering down ; the uproar was 
 something tremendous. 
 
 "Of course we were awfully excited and a little 
 scared ; and though we didn't run we did some lively 
 dodging, firing away cartridges with desperate energy. 
 i " The buffaloes didn't go past us all in one herd, so 
 we had quite a chance at them while they were smash- 
 ing through the curing racks and rolling over on all 
 sides ; and we secured seven of them. 
 
 "About the time the rest had got well past, the old 
 bull in the shack, after knocking things endwise gen- 
 erally inside, came ' bousing ' out of the open door. 
 Tom brought him down with a ball through the neck. 
 
 "Then we looked about us and took a survey of 
 things. It was a crazy-looking camp. It looked as if 
 an Iowa ' twister ' had just passed over. The shack was 
 badly damaged inside as well as out, and the curing 
 racks knocked all to pieces, while skins and carcasses, 
 boulders, dry logs, sticks and stones lay scattered all 
 about us. It took the six of us all that day to find our 
 ponies and repair damages. 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 33 
 
 " That was the first time that we had seen buffalo so 
 high up on the buttes ; but afterwards, when the snow 
 got deep in the valleys, we found them up on the very 
 summits of some of the highest peaks there, where the 
 wind had swept the ground bare of snow and uncovered 
 the dry hill-grass." 
 
IN THE RED RIVER COUNTRY. 
 
 There were just six of us, camped in the big woods 
 
 on Cache Lake. CoL W- , the " Fat Man of Texas," 
 
 whose feats of muscular strength have made him fam- 
 ous throughout the Southwest, was the most important 
 figure in our expedition — important as chief, as a shot, 
 and lastly on account o^f his tremendous strength and 
 colossal proportions. 
 
 Mac was a celebrated individual also. Mac was a 
 conjurer and "sleight-of-hand" performer. One of 
 his first exploits, after we were fairly settled in camp, 
 was to frighten nearly to death a Comanche chief and 
 two of his braves. 
 
 These Indians had ridden down from their village to 
 pay their respects and beg a little " tobac," when Mac 
 was prompted to try his arts on them. His audience 
 was at first considerably astonished at the feats exhib- 
 ited ; then a little frightened and overawed, and finally 
 so terribly scared that they took to their heels, or 
 rather their horses, in indiscriminate flight. 
 
 They had held out courageously until Mac appeared 
 to swallow a huge bowie-knife, and immediately to 
 draw it out of the pit of his stomach. That finished 
 the scene, and we saw no more Indians during our 
 stay. The rest of us were individuals of far less bril- 
 liant attainments, who had in various ways gained per- 
 mission to accompany the illustrious colonel on this his 
 annual hunt in the woods of the " Nation." 
 
 34 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 35 
 
 The cook, or " camp rustler," was a fifteen-year-old 
 j>rotege of Mac's, who was enamored of the conjurer's 
 art, and who went by the somewhat indefinite title of 
 
 " Son." Jimmie H , a telegraph operator at one 
 
 of the frontier posts; "Jack," a seventeen-year-old 
 
 freighter and the son of a freighter on the Ft. S 
 
 route, with myself, made up the party. 
 
 " "We'd oughter av'rige from ten ter fifteen turkeys 
 apiece every day we're out," the colonel had declared 
 before we started. 
 
 Here let me remark that we did not average ten or 
 fifteen apiece each day out, and that, despite the 
 colonel's stories of former exploits, we don't believe any 
 one else ever did, not in those woods, at least. 
 
 About nine o'clock on the first morning, the writer 
 shouldered his eleven-pound, ten-gauge Baker, and 
 sallied forth into the " deep and trackless " woods. He 
 carried a hearty lunch in the pockets of his hunting- 
 coat, expecting to be gone all day, and to return at 
 night laden with at least six large gobblers ; the other 
 nine were to hang upon the limbs at some conspicuous 
 point near the edge of the creek-bank, and to be 
 brought in the next morning upon a horse. 
 
 As this was my first experience in turkey-hunting, 
 being a fair shot, I of course expected to make an 
 " average " bag during the day. 
 
 As the others all went up the creek, where our leader 
 said turkeys were most abundant, I determined to go 
 down the stream, and have the whole field in that 
 direction to myself. It was a beautiful sunshiny morn- 
 ing in December, and little streaks of mellow light 
 straggled in through the tangled growth of vines and 
 branches overhead, strewing golden patches over the 
 
36 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 dark gray clothing of the massive trunks between 
 which I stole with soft and easy tread. * 
 
 Not a breath of air was stirring, and in picking 
 my way among the great bodies of the white oak, elm 
 and cottonwood, every twig unluckily stepped upon 
 snapped with a sharp, spiteful report that could have 
 been heard at a hundred yards' distance. 
 
 The stillness and this cracking of brush were unfavor- 
 able, yet I concluded that where turkeys were so thick 
 and so tame that ten or fifteen was merely the aver- 
 age bag of a day's hunt, the breaking of a few small 
 sticks could be no great obstacle in the way of success. 
 
 But as time wore on in the same ghost-like stillness, 
 broken only by the sound of my own foot-falls, with 
 not even a sight of game to enliven the monotony of 
 the tramp, I began to feel somewhat discouraged, and 
 rather inclined to believe that the " Fat Man's" turkey 
 stories were humbugs, or much too large for the 
 expected amount of truth entering into them. 
 
 For six long hours I wandered wearily through those 
 woods, wading creeks, scrambling over meshes of 
 tangled vines, wallowing in sweet-brier thickets that 
 tore my clothing and scratched my body in a hundred 
 places, and was not rewarded with a solitary glimpse 
 of the game which had been the object of all this 
 tramping. 
 
 I made my way campward, firm in the conviction 
 that Col. W was a nuisance. 
 
 The first object which met my eyes upon reaching 
 the camp was the huge hulk of this same Fat Man, 
 deposited upon my new blankets, which were spread 
 upon the ground near the fire. 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 37 
 
 He was reclining upon one elbow, with a great 
 flabby hand under his fat face. 
 
 He didn't look a bit tired, but as comfortable, sleek 
 and well-fed as ever. I came at once to the disgusted 
 conclusion that he hadn't been forty rods away from 
 the " wicky up " during that whole day. 
 
 " Kill any turkeys ? " I asked, with a sarcasm born of 
 disgust. 
 
 He shook his head gravely, without raising his eye- 
 lids. " Too still for huntin'," he muttered, sleepily. 
 
 I attempted no further conversation with him. 
 
 Mac came straggling in shortly, and dropped upon a 
 log near the fire. 
 
 He said nothing, but looked as though he might 
 have swallowed another bowie-knife, and for once have 
 failed in extricating the weapon from his stomach. 
 
 At any rate, I had not the heart to break in upon 
 his meditations, and the colonel still gazed contentedly 
 at the end of his nose. 
 
 But we were destined for a surprise soon. At sun- 
 down Jack and Son came in lugging seven great 
 brownish-black birds, which, upon close inspection, 
 proved to be turkeys. Jack had killed three with his 
 Winchester rifle, and Son had slain the others with, 
 an old single-barreled shot-gun. 
 
 We were all elated. The turkeys had been discov- 
 ered at last. Even the colonel roused up, and deigned 
 to examine the birds. They were not as large, he 
 said, as those he had been in the habit of finding, but 
 still they would do to fry. 
 
 " Son," said Mac, as we sat down to supper, " Son 
 I'm proud of you. You shall go with me to-morrow, 
 and stay with me all day, too." 
 
38 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 I edged around near the young freighter. 
 
 "Jack," I whisnered, "let's you and I keep together 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " All right ! " he replied. 
 
 At daylight the next morning we two started off 
 together, leaving the others busy in preparing to follow. 
 
 " Now," said Jack, after we had crossed the creek 
 and were out of hearing ; " now, then, you just pull 
 yer freights right on my trail fer about an hour, an* 
 I'll take you to where there's turkeys, an' lots of 'em, 
 though they're purty wild. The fellers from the Fort 
 have hunted 'em all the fall. There ain't no use in 
 lookin' fer turkeys through no such big woods as these 
 here, 'cause ther ain't nothin' here fer 'em tu eat. 
 You've got ter git out 'mongst the hackberries an' 
 pecans." 
 
 At length we struck the mouth of a sandy creek, and 
 Jack led me out of the woods and on to the prairie, 
 where the walking was excellent. 
 
 " 'Bout two miles up this creek," remarked he, as 
 we hurried forward, " jest about two miles on, we'll 
 take into the woods agin ; but ye won't find no sech 
 woods es there is down round camp an' you'll see 
 turkeys in 'em too." 
 
 A half-hour later he announced himself ready to 
 enter the nearest grove. 
 
 The timber was, as he had said, small ; little more, 
 in fact, than a dense thicket of hackberry poles and 
 young pecans, but there was no underbrush, and the 
 ground was bare of all growth but the trees. 
 
 Here's where we'll find 'em," declared my compan- 
 ion, sinking his voice to a whisper, and halting to give 
 instructions. 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 89 
 
 "Now," said he, "I don't b'lieve we'd best keep 
 together in here. "We'll git more shots a heap to go 
 separate. You keep 'long in the out edge, an' I'll take 
 down next the creek, an' then we'll drive 'em all out 
 ahead of us inter the nex' grove. Ye see, this here 
 ground's all covered in hackberry seed, an' this is jest 
 the time o' mornin' they're scattered all out feedin'." 
 
 " All right, Jack ; just as you say," I returned. 
 " Shall we meet at the upper end of this grove ? " 
 
 He nodded, and turning away, stole silently as an 
 Indian down towards the creek. 
 
 Following his example as nearly as possible in my 
 movements, I stole forward on tiptoe among the slen- 
 der tree-trunks, keeping a sharn look-out on every side 
 for any appearance of game, 
 
 I had not gone a hundred yards when my ears were 
 assailed by a chorus of Quit! Quit! Quit! and the 
 ground on every hand seemed suddenly alive with big 
 black birds scooting away from me on all sides. 
 
 I had tiptoed into the midst of a whole drove of 
 feeding turkeys, and had alarmed them before seeing 
 them. 
 
 My gun was quickly at my face, and catching sight 
 at a vanishing gobbler over its polished tubes, I fired 
 and secured him. 
 
 I turned to shoot again, looking in all directions, 
 but the distant pattering of foot-steps growing rapidly 
 fainter each moment was all that rewarded my atten- 
 tion. Not a thing was to be seen save bare poles, dry 
 branches, and the leaf -strewn earth. 
 
 Well satisfied, however, with my first shot at the 
 wild turkey, I chucked a loaded shell into the empty 
 barrel, took up my bird — a splendid glossy fellow, with 
 
40 HUNTING STOEIBS. 
 
 a pendant brush four inches in length — and made my 
 way stealthily forward as before. 
 
 A sharp report from Jack's Winchester now admon- 
 ished me that he too had found game. 
 
 Five minutes or more passed in silently stealing 
 through the hackberry grove, when I suddenly came 
 upon an open clear of trees of any description. It was 
 a large field of dry reeds such as seldom grow so far 
 from the edges of streams and ponds. 
 
 My drove of turkeys had mostly fled in this direc- 
 tion ; perhaps there were some of them hiding in this 
 same reed-patch. If so — but I had no time to specu- 
 late upon the problem before my attention was arrested 
 by a sudden rustling among the dry stalks just ahead. 
 Whuh ! wihuh ! whukl 'a great black and bronze bird 
 rose not twenty feet away, and as he flopped off in a 
 direct line, presented a mark which no hunter who had 
 not lost his head entirely could have missed. 
 
 My Baker ordered a sudden halt to the flying bird. 
 Another rose almost instantly at the report and dropped 
 but a few yards to the right of the first. Greatly 
 excited, I hastily reloaded and hurried forward to 
 secure the game. The first bird was dead, but the 
 other, undoubtedly winged, had taken to its long legs 
 and was nowhere to be found. 
 
 I left the patch carrying five — three males and two 
 hens. Jack met me at the appointed place. He carried 
 three great birds. 
 
 My confidence in the Fat Man and his stirring tales 
 was now somewhat revived, and it began to seem as 
 though with hard and persistent hunting one might 
 average ten per day for a few days at least. 
 
 At about noon Jack and I built a fire, and we dined 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 41 
 
 off the broiled hearts and gizzards of turkeys, eaten 
 with the baking-powder biscuits brought in our pockets 
 — a dinner which under the circumstances we relished 
 greatly. 
 
 That afternoon our chase proved almost a failure ; 
 we hunted until sundown, onty securing one bird, a 
 lucky wing-shot from the Baker, made at a remarkable 
 distance. Just before sundown we ensconced our- 
 selves in the bed of a dry, sandy run near the edge of 
 a large grove, and but a few yards from a fresh turkey- 
 roost, which Jack had discovered during the day. 
 
 Turkeys usually roost near the edge of the prairie or 
 on the bank of a stream, and when they go to roost at 
 night, walk out upon the open ground, take a hard run, 
 then rising gradually on the wing, sail easily into the 
 top of the desired tree. 
 
 If you can find the roosting-place and hide near hy t 
 or succeed in crawling under them after dark, you are 
 pretty certain to make a bag of two or three, or if they 
 be thick upon the tree, even a larger number may be 
 secured. We had lain upon the sand under the over- 
 hanging bushes but a short time when we heard a rush 
 of wings near by, and the next instant four great dark 
 birds sailed over our heads and out into the woods 
 beyond. 
 
 Jack looked at me in disgusr. "Knew there wasn't 
 but four or five of 'em roosting here," he said, " but I 
 didn't reckon they'd be so mighty sharp. Ye ^ee, 
 they've been chased all day, an' they've got mighty 
 cunnin'. 'Taint no use to hunt 'em now, only when 
 they're feedin' in the mornin'." 
 
 We both rose and peered through the tree-tops. 
 There was but one to be seen, seated upon the topmost 
 
4R3 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 bough of a tall tree some three hundred yards away. 
 Though its form was plainly outlined against the yel- 
 low twilight of the western sky, the bird did not look 
 larger than a small chicken from where we stood. 
 
 " No use try in' to git under 'em through all them 
 sweet-briers and thick brush ; he's too skeery." 
 
 "Jack," said I, "you can show me a long shot 
 now." 
 
 " All right, boss," he answered, in a pleased voice. 
 "It's gettin' powerful dim here in the woods, but I 
 can see my sights plain against that sky, an' you jest 
 watch that old feller a minute, please." 
 
 Instead I watched Jack's steady motion, as he raised 
 the Winchester to his face. He certainly could not hit 
 so small a mark at such a distance, even in broad day- 
 light. 
 
 For several seconds the young hunter stood motion- 
 less as a monument, his lithe figure growing uncertain 
 amid the shadows that seemed momentarily growing 
 higher among the tree-trunks ; then his face was lit up 
 for a brief instant by a bright blaze of light from the 
 muzzle of his rifle, and the woods rang with its sharp, 
 spiteful report. 
 
 Instantly lifting my gaze to the distant tree-top, in 
 utter astonishment I saw the turkey roll off its high 
 perch, and plunge down into the darkness. 
 
 Fairly satisfied with our bag of ten turkeys, we left 
 eight of them hanging at the noon camp, and after a 
 hard, adventurous tramp, reached the Cache camp late 
 in the evening. 
 
 The boys were all in, and all but the colonel had met 
 with fair success. The Fat Man had remained at camp 
 to guard the horses and camp equipage. 
 
HUNTIMG STOKIBS. 43 
 
 He did not kill a single bird while we were out. 
 Five days later we drove into the town of Gr — -with 
 half a wagon-load of turkeys, and as we were tired and 
 hungry, unloaded, stowed them away in the colonel's 
 shooting-gallery, and repaired to our various places of 
 resort for supper and rest. 
 
 The next morning upon gathering at the gallery to 
 divide the spoils, we found a new proprietor in charge. 
 The turkeys had been sold to parties in town, and the 
 famous Fat Man had gone, no one knew when or in 
 what direction. Numerous creditors mourned his loss. 
 
 It was near the holiday season, and the birds sold 
 well. I could but think how differently we provide for 
 the table on the Red Eiver than do our friends in the 
 East. Here nature furnishes the stores for which 
 others toil in different manner. Generous, indeed, in 
 the far West are the gifts of the autumn and the early 
 winter days. 
 
 V 
 
V 
 
 THE BIRD-CATCHER'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 The catching, taming and training of young mocking, 
 birds is a favorite pastime with numbers of young 
 people living in the vicinity of New Orleans and other 
 cities of the South and .Southwest. It often proves a 
 quite profitable pursuit, too ; for the bird-fanciers, who 
 buy for Northern or foreign markets, pay from five to 
 eight dollars for a trained singer, and the young birds, 
 when first caught, will bring fifty cents a pair. 
 
 As may be imagined, however, there are far more 
 "catchers" than " trainers," since there are three some- 
 what rare qualifications necessary to the trainer's success 
 in rearing a mocking-bird singer. 
 
 First of these necessities may be mentioned a natural 
 sympathy with, and recognition of, the modes and 
 peculiarities of the bird ; that is to say, the trainer 
 must be a bit of a naturalist by instinct, with a touch 
 of the imaginative in his study of the bird's habits. 
 Second, it is quite necessary that he should possess some 
 musical accomplishment or play some piping instru- 
 ment, and do this fairly. 
 
 The third condition to success is tnat of favorable 
 surroundings. That locality where may be heard the 
 greatest variety of out-door musical sounds is certainly 
 the most favorable to the rearing of a good singer. As 
 is well known, however, there are many unmusical 
 sounds which will suggest a strain or a snatch of 
 unwonted song to the ear of this delightful bird ; the 
 
 44 
 
HUNTING STOBIES. 45 
 
 whine of a dog or the mewing of a oat are often quite 
 exactly imitated. 
 
 Johnny Trumbull, a Northern-born lad who lives m 
 the famous " Cross Timbers," of Central Texas, is a 
 bird-catcher, who, with favorable location, combines 
 the personal qualifications above hinted at. His home 
 is surrounded by hills, rocks, and the beautiful post-oak 
 and live-oak of this peculiarly attractive region ; a 
 region too, which in birds, animals, reptiles and an 
 innumerable variety of insects, is a very paradise, 
 indeed, for one who is blessed with the tastes of a 
 naturalist. 
 
 He catches and rears but few birds, however, and 
 never sends a bird to market until it has become an 
 accomplished singer. It is his special business to rear 
 extra good singers, and he leaves the wholesale trade to 
 those who have no- higher artistic ambition. His birds 
 are never sent out with less than a year's tutelage, and 
 should one of them prove rather dull, or lacking in 
 quality of voice, he opens the cage-door and sets it 
 free. 
 
 Twice each year Mr. Trumbull makes a business trip 
 to the city of New Orleans, and the train that carries 
 him conveys also a half-dozen or more of Johnny's 
 bird-cages, each containing one or two rare singers. 
 He has made some remarkable sales for the lad, one 
 bird bringing the fine sum of twenty-five dollars, and 
 the total quite frequently reaching one hundred. As 
 the gentleman stays in the city two or three weeks 
 each time, the fancier to whom he takes the birds has 
 ample opportunity to test their powers and to price 
 them accordingly. 
 
 The mocking-bird, like the quail, is a quite domestic 
 
46 HUNTING STOKIES. 
 
 little creature, and often builds its' nest in the immedi- 
 ate vicinity of human habitations. The Cross Timbers 
 seem to be the natural summer home of these birds. 
 All day long the woods and hills are " tintinnabulat- 
 ing " — if I may use such a word — with their trilling 
 melodies ; and I have never seen them so numerous 
 elsewhere. 
 
 They are caged and carefully fed for a few weeks, 
 when, in response to the singing of other birds and the 
 variety of musical sounds with which the young trainer 
 regales them, they begin to ruffle their feathers, cock 
 their little heads on one side, swell tb,eir youthful 
 throats and imitate. 
 
 "When one of them "gets a going in good style," 
 Johnny carries its cage out into the door-yard, seats 
 himself beside it, and assails the little fellow with a 
 volley of warbling notes and quivering trills. If it be 
 quick and apt, with a good range of voice, it will respond 
 at once, catching here and there a cord and nearly 
 bursting its small throat with its " Quttlopy — willopy — 
 quirk — a — wirh — sweet— tweets ! " 
 
 If the bird be at all lively and emulative, Johnny 
 will soon work the little chap into a perfect frenzy of 
 mad musicalness, in which it loses all desire to imitate 
 and launches out with wild improvisations of its own. 
 Then the lad studies its moods, and whistles or plays 
 accordingly. When the bird feels gay and festive, he 
 whistles his liveliest tunes ; when, as is often the case, 
 its song grows pensive and sad in tone, he plays low, 
 sweet strains upon the harmonica. Then, also, the 
 oage often hangs in the sunshine, in the out-door air all 
 day long, and other out-door songsters are brought 
 into requisition as trainers. 
 
HOTJTSNG STORIES. 47 
 
 But Johnny has other pets besides his mocking- 
 birds ; a tame antelope, an opossum, a pair of jack-rab- 
 bits, and of the feathered tribe an eagle, a raven, a 
 " scissor-tail " (paradise bird), and several varieties of 
 the beautiful Southern red-bird. And my story is of 
 an adventure which befell him while on a bird-hunting 
 trip last summer ; it occurred, in fact, at the time he 
 secured the eagle now numbered among his pets. 
 
 This eaglet Johnny captured from a nest in the top 
 of a tall oak, back of Quarry Peak, a long, ledge- 
 crowned ridge, distant a mile and a half from his home. 
 On his return from the trip to the eyrie, he had deter- 
 mined to cross the crest of the ridge and descend the 
 crags, instead of making a circuit of it, as he had done 
 in going to the nest. The ledge does not average more 
 than forty feet in height, but in most places on that 
 side it was so steep that ascent was impossible, and at 
 any point quite arduous. There were two places, how- 
 ever, which Johnny had discovered in his rambles and 
 hunting excursions, where the ragged, jutting rocks 
 afforded a sort of stairway which might be descended 
 by a hunter with steady nerves and flexible muscles. 
 At both these places there were points where the 
 descent must be made by dropping from the edge of 
 one rock to the top of another six or eight feet below. 
 
 Having the eagle as an incumbrance, Johnny this 
 time selected what he considered the safer " stairway," 
 and strapping the bird -to his back, began carefully 
 getting down. He had got about half-way to the bot- 
 tom of this niche in the ledge, and had just dropped 
 from an overhanging " step " of the stairway to the 
 broad, flat surface of the one next below it, when a 
 
HUNTING 
 
 laintive, half-human cry reached his ears, iatMuiOg to 
 come from the base of the crag beneath. 
 
 A cold chill crept all over the boy's flesh and set all 
 his nerves a-tingle with fearful sensations. He had 
 heard that cry before. 
 
 A great branching oak with limbs shadowing the 
 jagged rocks and almost touching them, had grown up 
 from below. He peeped cautiously down through its 
 foliage, not daring to make the slightest noise and 
 almost fearing to breathe. 
 
 He could see nothing. 
 
 But soon again that wailing, womanish cry came 
 quivering up from below. Johnny clenched his hands 
 and set his teeth hard to keep from giving way to his 
 terror. 
 
 It was the prolonged, moaning caterwaul of a pan- 
 ther. Johnny had never heard one in the daytime 
 before ; but now he remembered a large, long crevice 
 in the rocks near the foot of the big oak ; he knew 
 instinctively that there must be a den of these danger- 
 ous beasts beneath him, and that he had just heard the 
 plaintive scream of a young one calling to its dam. 
 
 Immediately the cry was repeated. Johnny listened 
 intently. It began in a soft minor key, sliding gently 
 upward to a thrilling, heart-moving climax, then dying 
 gradually away in a woefully pathetic and wistful 
 cadence. Yes, it was a young one, there was not vol- 
 ume enough of sound to have come from the lungs of 
 a full-grown panther. But where was the old mother- 
 beast ? 
 
 Should he gojip or down ? He had no weapons with 
 him save his jack-knife and a small pocket revolver, a 
 mere toy ; and with panthers he concluded that the 
 
HUNTING- STORIES. 49 
 
 knife was equally to be relied upon with the pistol. 
 He cast his eyes wistfully at the rugged, disheartening 
 rocks above, and then bent forward and took another 
 anxious look among the limbs and brush below. 
 
 While bending over thus, the shadow of some flying 
 thing seemed suddenly to pass over him ;_there was an 
 ominous rattle of loosened stones above and a rustling 
 shook among the upper branches of the tree. Then on 
 the instant, another shrill scream,which now seemed to 
 come up triumphantly from the foot of the ledge, was 
 answered by a snarling cry from the oak-top. 
 
 Johnny knew just what had happened, and crouched 
 quite faint and limp with fright, upon the shelf of 
 rock. For a few moments he dared not look upward, 
 then another horrible snarl and a ripping of bark 
 among the high limbs drew his eyes irresistibly up- 
 ward. At the sight which met his gaze, he shrank and 
 cowered still closer beneath the overhanging rock from 
 which he had dropped but a moment before. 
 
 The old panther was there, the mother of the young, 
 at the base of the ledge. Swaying to and fro, she 
 clung to a branch and glared fiercely upon him, her 
 white fangs gleaming as the lip quivered in rage above 
 them. Through the shaking foliage the lad could see 
 her lithe, tawny body stretched back in a crouching 
 attitude along the bending branch, as if about to leap 
 down upon him, while the snarling cries grew louder. 
 
 Johnny tried to think, to plan briefly, some way of 
 escape or defense. If he leaped down, the danger of 
 an attack would be increased he feared. If he 
 attempted to climb back up the rocks, he must approach 
 nearer to the angry beast, already at such frightfully 
 close quarters. 
 
50 
 
 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 The bird-catcher's dilemma was a terrible one. 
 
 For several moments the beast kept her menacing 
 attitude. At length, puzzled, perhaps, or awed by the 
 death-like stillness and steady eyes of the lad, the 
 animal ceased her threatening manoeuvres abruptly 
 and turned round upon the branch as if to descend or 
 go back up the cliff. But just then the wailing cry of 
 the young one rose again, when as if mistrusting 
 treachery on Johnny's part towards her cub, the old 
 panther suddenly whirled about, and at a single bound 
 landed on the shelving rock beside his body. 
 
 With an involuntary yell of horror, the boy kicked 
 out both feet spasmodically, and with such violence 
 that his boot-heels, striking plump against the beast, 
 pitched her off the narrow edge of the rock. But even 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 51 
 
 as she fell over, the agile brute, quwling about, 
 struck her claws into his legs and drew him after her. 
 
 As he slid off, Johnny threw a desperate clutch at a 
 branch of the oak a little below, and grasping it with 
 both hands, stayed his fall — though a part of each leg 
 of his pantaloons disappeared down the crag in the 
 panther's claws. 
 
 In an ecstasy of terror, he drew himself on the bend- 
 ing limb and got to the trunk of the tree, expecting 
 every instant that the fierce creature would be upon 
 
 But having found her kit, the old beast was, perhaps, 
 reassured and content; and our young naturalist, 
 climbing hurriedly upward, swung off upon the rocks 
 higher up and escaped to the top of the crag. As he 
 made off, the 'eaglet shook its rumpled feathers and 
 gaped dolefully ; the breath had been nearly jammed 
 out of it by the weight of its captor's body as he lay 
 on the shelf of rock, with the panther watching him. 
 
 The week following, one of their neighbors, to whom 
 Johnny had recounted his adventure, succeeded in 
 trapping the old panther at the foot of the oak and 
 capturing the young one by throwing a horse blanket 
 over it. The little creature was offered to Johnny as 
 a pet, but he declined to undertake its education, his 
 interest centering in birds rather than in the felidce. 
 
VI. 
 
 ▲ FISH-STORY. 
 
 To the lover of rod and gun who needs a change of 
 air and a few months of out-door recreation, few places 
 can be more interesting than the region of the Upper 
 Red River. 
 
 There is a strip of country about one hundred miles 
 in breadth along this stream and its branches, 
 including the middle and western frontiers of northern 
 Texas, and also the south and southwest of the Indian 
 Territory, which, if not a veritable " hunters paradise," 
 is at least plentifully stocked with a large variety of 
 game. Deer, antelope, turkey, wild goose, duck, crane 
 and prairie chicken abound there, while smaller varie- 
 ties of game, the " Jack," or " mule ear," the common 
 rabbit and the quail are almost overabundant. 
 
 In the deep woods that skirt the " Nation branches" 
 of the Red may be found the bear, panther, wild cat, 
 wild hog and opossum. In winter the waters and 
 sand-bars of the Red River are a famous resort for wild 
 geese, and the fields belonging to the scattering farms 
 along the south bank are often seen swarming with 
 crane, geese and brant. There is plenty of hunting in 
 the region for at least six months in the year, and of 
 the most exciting sort, too. 
 
 But there is fish as well as other game, for Red 
 River and all its deeper branches are well stocked with 
 great " cats," buffalo-fish, red-horse and sucker. 
 
 The writer's notions of fishing -as a business had 
 
 53 
 
HUNTING STORIES. . 53 
 
 been pretty much confined to sea-coasts and lake-shores, 
 until he became acquainted with several persons on 
 the banks of these streams who make a living, and a 
 good one, by catching the great lazy cats and buffaloes 
 that loll about the bottoms of the Red and its tribu- 
 taries. 
 
 Of course, there is nothing in the operations of these 
 individual fishermen that is worthy the name of com- 
 merce, and their work is lacking in the exciting 
 romance of the rolling wave and the smacking breeze 
 of the sea, but these lone fishers sometimes meet with 
 exciting adventures nevertheless. Trot-line fishing 
 may, as a usual thing, prove tame business; but when 
 you are required to detach from the main line a forty- 
 pound cat, and bring him safely to land, or pull him 
 into your boat, you are quite likely to have a lively 
 time of it, and to conclude when the task is ended — 
 if indeed the attempt is not a complete failure — that 
 you have had excitement enough for one day. 
 
 Forty pounds sounds pretty large, but there are fish 
 of even twice that size in these very streams, and it is 
 with the catching of one of these giant cats that my 
 story has to deal. 
 
 Aleck and Sam Mosby are two stout lads, who live 
 with their widowed mother upon a small farm on the 
 south bank of Bed Kiver. Their father died in New 
 Orleans, some- years ago, of yellow fever, and since 
 that time the boys have been the main stay of the 
 widow and their two young sisters. They have but 
 little land under cultivation, and in fact the soil bakes 
 so hard in the heat of the summer sun that not much 
 can be raised, except in the garden, where they keep 
 the earth constantly loosened with their heavy hoes. 
 
54 HUNTING STOKIES. 
 
 But the sterility of the land gives these enterprising 
 youths very little uneasiness, so long' as the streams 
 are stocked with fish, and the annual season of bird- 
 migration brings thousands of geese and brant flocking 
 into the river and among the fields above and below. 
 
 Twenty miles away is the frontier railroad-town of 
 H , a lively place, and the home of a score of " cat- 
 tle men," worth half a million or more. Fish and 
 game find a ready market here, at good prices, for what 
 is not consumed at home can be easily shipped to the 
 large towns east and north, or on the Gulf coast. 
 
 Thus Aleck and Sam are able with fish net, trot-line 
 and gun to support their small family in comfort ; and 
 with the aid of the garden, the cows and butter, they 
 even manage to lay by a small sum each year. 
 
 "It seems like a shiftless kind of life," says the 
 widow, " this hunting and fishing ; but the boys work 
 real faithful in the garden at whatever they're 
 a doing ; and they buy a good many books to study in 
 the long evenings. So I believe they're going to come 
 out all right in the end." 
 
 Scarcely a week goes by during the months in which 
 game can be preserved, that either Sam or Aleck does 
 not go to town driving a span of mules hitched 
 to the spring wagon, laden with twenty or thirty dol- 
 lars' worth of fish and birds. Surely there's not much 
 "shiftlessness" about such a thrifty business as that. 
 
 Their fishing operations are mostly confined to a 
 large, deep pond, formed at the mouth of a fine creek, 
 — one of the largest of the " Nation branches " — which 
 empties into Red River, nearly opposite their dwelling. 
 This pond, or rather deep hole, is some half a mile in 
 length, and has been formed by the peculiar shifting 
 
HUNTING STORIES. ,, 55 
 
 process with which the longer stream manages so often 
 to change the channel of its water course. 
 
 The red sands of the bottom have been banked up at 
 the mouth of the creek until, in this case, a permanent 
 dam has been formed, and the original channel is com- 
 pletely blocked. The water finds an outlet at the lower 
 end of the bar, however, running over in a shallow, 
 swift current, that is not easily ascended in a row-boat. 
 
 The boys "pole" their skiff through this channel, 
 and then find themselves floating easily upon the deep, 
 narrow sheet above, which nearly fills the bank of the 
 creek for some distance back into the woods. 
 
 This hole of water, in many places twenty feet deep, 
 is the home of the largest cat and buffalo known to the 
 channels of the Upper Red and its branches. But the 
 fish are scarcely more at home than the fishers, for 
 Sam and , Aleck go the rounds of their trot-lines and 
 take the big fellows in in a way that would do credit 
 to the ingenuity of more experienced fishermen than 
 they. 
 
 Their trot-lines consist of large ropes stretched 
 across the channel, an end tied to a tree on either 
 bank and knotted once in six feet for the whole length. 
 Each of these knots holds a small iron ring, from 
 which depends, fastened with a common harness-snap, 
 a stout line and hook, the latter baited with fresh 
 meat and reaching nearly to the bottom of the chan- 
 nel. The big cat and buffalo feed low down in the 
 water, and must be baited in their favorite haunts if 
 caught at all. 
 
 The boys' method of landing these big fish is ingen- 
 ious. In the stern of their boat is a stout, free roller, 
 wound with a heavy reel-line. A ring in the end of 
 
56 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 this line allows them to take off the short line, upon 
 which the fish is hooked, and take him in tow. If 
 the fish be an extra large one, the ring of the reel-line 
 can be placed within the snap before it is unhooked 
 from the rope, and then the stout denizen of the 
 waters is allowed to amuse himself on the reel until 
 tired, when he is drawn to the top and landed by the 
 aid of a boat-hook. 
 
 One foggy morning last October, they repaired as 
 usual to the trot-lines, of which they then had three, 
 thrown across the " Hole in the Cache," as they have 
 named the long pond ; and upon nearing the first 
 stringer, discovered that something unusual had 
 occurred. The rope, which had been drawn quite 
 taut several feet above the water, was pulled down- 
 ward at a point near the middle until several yards of 
 its length were completely submerged. 
 
 l< Must be a whale or an alligator on that line ! " 
 cried Aleck. "Just look, Sam! It's done pulled 
 clean under water, an* stretched harder'n a barbed 
 wire, an' 'taint much bigger, neither." 
 
 Sam was as much astonished as his brother. 
 
 " There ain't no alligators here, Aleck," he answered, 
 gazing at the line with wide-open eyes. " But I don't 
 know but you're right about the whale." 
 
 Aleck was in the bow of the boat, while Sam had 
 been seated- in the stern, paddling, until this event had 
 caused him to rise and stare wonderingJ.y through the 
 light fog. 
 
 "Well, don't let's stand gaping here any longer," 
 exclaimed Aleck, at length. " Do you paddle her for- 
 ward easy, Sam, till I can reach down in the water an* 
 find that rope. We'll soon know what's got a-hold of 
 
HUNTI1«S STORIES. 57 
 
 that hook. Good thing them lines are linen and stout 
 enough to hold a horse, or else that one'd break, sure. 
 I reckon, though, that the rope'd snap afore one o' 
 them lines." 
 
 By the time he had ceased speaking, the prow of the 
 skiff was directly over the centre of the submerged 
 rope, and in a trice Aleck was down on his knees, with 
 an arm thrust into the water. 
 
 " Mebbe," said he, " an old wet log's rolled down 
 with the under-current and caught the hook, for you 
 see it's sort a bent down-stream. No, it ain't ! " he 
 exclaimed, excitedly ; " there's a " — but before he could 
 finish, the rope upon which he was tugging flew out of 
 ,his hand and straightened up with a "swish," catching 
 the rim of his hat as it went, and throwing that article 
 clean over the boat's stern and into the water beyond. 
 
 The next instant there was a deep swirl in the water 
 just ahead of the prow, then a heavy splash, another 
 little eddying whirlpool, and then a quick strain at the 
 rope which wrenched it down to the water's edge 
 again. 
 
 " Back water ! back water ! " shouted Aleck, seizing 
 one of the oars which had been shipped and paddling 
 furiously at the bow. " Back water, Sam. Fetch the 
 stern 'round an' get the reel ring into the snap quick- 
 er'n lightnin ' ! Another sech a jerk'll break that 
 _rope." 
 
 The boat was brought about with a sudden energy 
 that nearly pitched Aleck over the prow. 
 
 "I've got the reel-ring snapped," cried Sam a moment 
 later, " but how'll I get the other ring out ? The old 
 fellow's quiet just now, but he's pulling like a steam- 
 
58 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 engine, an' if I try to pull him in an' unhook his line, 
 I'm afraid he'll cut up again an' break it." 
 
 "I don't know how we'll fix it," returned Aleck, 
 anxiously; " but we must have that old fellow; why, 
 Sam, he's as big as you or me, but — there — now's your 
 time ! Quick ! he's slackened up for another rush." 
 
 Sam had the snap free from the trot-line ring before 
 his brother ceased speaking. And none too soon, 
 either, for the great fish made another quick run and 
 shot away up-stream at a surprising rate of speed. The 
 roller fairly whistled as the line reeled off, but Aleck 
 soon had the oars working, and a lively chase began. 
 
 " We ought to keep up with a cat-fish ! " cried Sam, 
 as he saw that in spite of his brother's exertions the 
 line was still fast paying out. " You ain't a goin' to do 
 it though, Aleck, 'less you work livelier'n this. The 
 reel-line never'll hold that old monster — 'tain't stout 
 enough, an' it's mighty nigh paid out now." 
 
 Aleck did his best, but, not a minute later, the roller 
 stopped and the line snapped. 
 
 " There, we've lost him ! " shouted Sam, in disgust, 
 as he saw the broken end of the line rapidly retreating 
 up stream. 
 
 " Grab the paddle ! jump over behind here an* help ! :; 
 yelled Aleck. " He won't go out of the hole, an' we'll 
 pick up the line again at the other end." 
 
 "Aleck was right ; the fish slackened his speed soon, 
 and Sam gathered in the end of the still floating line. 
 
 " You take the oars, Sam, and let me handle him this 
 time, please," said Aleck, coaxingly. 
 
 Sam reluctantly exchanged places. He wasn't so 
 stout as Aleck, and he did want to secure that fish. 
 
 Aleck slowly hauled in the slack, and then with great 
 
HUNTING- STORIES. 59 
 
 caution felt the mouth of his victim. But the fellow 
 was gamey, and didn't propose to stand any trifling. 
 He turned his course and ran swiftly down stream, 
 coming almost directly towards the boat. 
 
 "-Now, then," said Aleck, exultingly, " now, then, 
 we'll have him an' no mistake. Jest wait till he gets 
 past, Sam, an' then show what you're made of for half 
 a minute, an' then that old cat can do the rest of our 
 rowing." 
 
 In a few seconds the line had doubled and the far- 
 ther string was gently rippling past, not ten feet dis- 
 tant from the boat's side. 
 
 " All ready," said Aleck, and away went the boat. 
 The young fisherman now began rapidly hauling in the 
 line. He would not trust th« roller again. 
 
 The line was soon drawn taut, and bracing himself 
 in the bow, Aleck carefully tested the powers of the 
 runaway. The boat forged ahead, and the line showed 
 no signs of yielding. Aleck gave the command to quit 
 rowing, and a moment afterwards the boat was gliding 
 along close in shore, with no other motive power than 
 that given by the gigantic cat which had thus been 
 made to take them in tow. 
 
 " "We'll soon tire him out now, Sam," said Aleck, in 
 triumph ; " and how's this for a free ride ? " 
 
 " But you've got the line wound round your hand 
 an' wrist, Aleck," said Sam. " Remember there's big 
 snags just under water along here, an' if we should 
 strike one, you'd be in a nice fix." 
 
 " Oh, I can hold any cat there is in here," answered 
 the other, confidently. " All I'm afraid of is that he'll 
 break the line, an' then he'll go over the riffle into the 
 river, as they do sometimes when they're hard-pushed. 
 
60 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 You know we've lost two old whoppers that way, an' 
 I believe this one's goin' to try it. See, we ain't fifty 
 yards from the end of the bar an' he's goin' yet; there 
 won't be no " 
 
 Aleck concluded not to-finish that sentence. A sud- 
 den conviction seemed to have seized upon his mind 
 that he ought to take an immediate cold-water bath. 
 
 At any rate, he took a meteoric header over the bow 
 of the boat. A sudden plunge, a glimmer of heels at 
 the agitated surface of the water, and the astonished 
 eyes of Sam sought in vain for any trace of his 
 brother. 
 
 Sam, himself, had received a considerable shook 
 from the striking of the boat against a sudden stub ' 
 projecting from the bank. He thought nothing of 
 this, however, but really began to feel alarmed about 
 Aleck. 
 
 Could it be that the big fish had drawn his brother 
 under and swallowed him ? 
 
 It seemed an age as he stood staring blankly at the 
 water, before he saw the rise of a dozen bubbles, 
 which preceded the popping up of Aleck's head, some 
 dozen yards below. 
 
 " Got 'im yet ! " spluttered the diver, blowing the 
 water from mouth and nose as he still floundered 
 along in the wake of the fish. But by this time he 
 managed to keep his head above the surface, using his 
 free arm in lusty strokes to keep from being drawn 
 under again. 
 
 " Goin' down Red River," he shouted back at Sam. 
 "Git to Shreveport to-night; pick up your oars an' 
 come on, or you'll be left 1 "- 
 
 The demoralized boatman siezed the oars and began 
 
HUNTINe* aTORIES. 61 
 
 a pursuit. He sat with his face to the bow, however, 
 so as to watch the swimmer in front. 
 
 Aleck was now fast nearing shallow water, and an 
 instant later Sam saw the great gray back of the cat 
 away out on the "ripple." 
 
 Suddenly Aleck gathered himself up and stood 
 waist-deep in the water. Rapidly hauling in the line, 
 with a hard pull on the mouth of the tired fish, he 
 rushed ahead shouting triumphantly. 
 
 And now the big cat had made a fatal mistake. 
 The water was too shallow for his great body 5 he was 
 tired, and the hard pulling of his pursuer held him at a 
 stand-still. He grew sulky, gave up the fight, and 
 rolled over and over. 
 
 An instant later Sam saw his brother seated in tri- 
 umph on the half-submerged body of the floundering 
 monster. 
 
 " Got him safe now ! " cried Aleck, as Sam brought 
 the boat alongside. "He's a whopper — as big as a 
 good big hog ! " 
 
 He wasn't quite as large as that, but after they had 
 flopped him over the edge of the boat and taken him 
 home, he was found to weigh eighty-nine pounds and 
 four ounces. 
 
VII. 
 
 A DEADLY ENCOUNTER. 
 
 I have often met old hunters who have heard of 
 battles between the grizzly bear and the immense, 
 tawny panther of the Kocky Mountains ; but I have 
 only once known a man who had seen such a combat. 
 Sergeant Roseman of the — th United States Cavalry, 
 whom I met in Wyoming while on a hunting expedi- 
 tion in '86, told me of a fierce fight between " Old 
 Eph" and two mountain lions which he had 
 " umpired " — as he put it — near Caspar Mountain sev- 
 eral years before. 
 
 . At that time he was stationed at Fort Fetterman. 
 A party of citizens had come out from St. Paul, Minn., 
 to hunt the big game, then so plentiful in eastern 
 Wyoming, and the sergeant, one of the best hunters in 
 his regiment, was allowed to go with them, taking a 
 small detachment of soldiers to look after the camp, 
 and take care of the game. The party had been hunt- 
 ing elk among the foot-hills of the Caspar range, and 
 near the great ragged mountain which is their chief 
 feature, when the adventure befell him. 
 
 rt I killed an elk," said he, "early one morning, 
 and as I often did in a region where there were grizzly 
 or silver-tip bears, I left it where it fell, for bear bait. 
 There is nothing the big bears of this region are more 
 fond of than a freshly killed elk or a black-tail. I had 
 already, at one time and another, shot seven bears by 
 baiting in this way. and watching by the bodies of the 
 dead elks. 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 63 
 
 4 * Perched comfortably in the branches of an ever- 
 green, or lying upon the top of some high rock within 
 a few rods of your bait, it isn't such a desperate adven- 
 ture, the killing of a grizzly. A good gun, using heavy 
 ammunition, decent markmanship, and a steady nerve 
 are all that is required. If you are fresh at the busi- 
 ness though, you probably won't fret a great deal if 
 the bear fails to come. 
 
 " This time I had killed an elk in just such a spot 
 and with just such surroundings as I would have 
 selected could I have had full choice. I shot it in the 
 act of drinking at a small basin of water in the bed of 
 the canon, which cut back into the foot of old Caspar 
 Mountain. The side of the mountain on either hand 
 was rutted with deep gorges leading into the canon. 
 Quaking asp thickets clustered around the heads of 
 these ravines, while the bottoms, wherever vegetation 
 could take hold, were grown to willows, currant and 
 bullberry bushes. It was just the place for bears, and 
 their sign was as plentiful as I had ever seen it any- 
 where. 
 
 " The spot was only a mile from our camp, and when 
 I came in from my hunt — for we hunted singly or in 
 twos and threes as the notion took us — I found three 
 of the St. Paul men taking a late dinner. I told them 
 of my success, and invited them to go with me, and lie 
 in wait for bears that evening. They declined, declar- 
 ing that they hadn't lost any bears, and, therefore, 
 didn't feel called upon to hunt for 'em. I was welcome, 
 they said, to gather all the stray grizzlies in the region, 
 and put my particular brand on 'em. 
 
 " So about three o'clock I went up to my bait alone. 
 I found it undisturbed, and perched myself in the 
 
64 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 crevice of a ledge of rock, some thirty yards distant, 
 which position I reached by making a ladder of dry 
 poles that lay among some drift of a recent ' washout.* 
 My hiding-place was perfectly safe from the attack of 
 a bear, should I be lucky enough to lure one within 
 shot, as it was fully fifteen feet from the base of the 
 ledge, at a perpendicular height. 
 
 " I found the crack, in which I could stretch myself 
 at full length, such a comfortable place that I con- 
 cluded to watch all night, provided no bear came to my 
 bait sooner. I had not long to wait, however, before I 
 was treated to the most thoroughand thrilling surprise 
 of all my hunting experience. 
 
 " I had lain, perhaps, an hour, and the sun had just 
 sunk behind the mountains back of me, so that their 
 shadows had crawled over the tops of the lower ones 
 in front, when I heard the sound of soft foot-falls just 
 on the other side of a fringe of bullberry bushes, which 
 skirted the stream above the spring where my elk lay. 
 I pricked my ears and looked sharply for game, which 
 from the muffled sound I took to be two or three bears 
 running down the canon. 
 
 " I had no time to speculate on the nature of the 
 animals before there bounded in sight two big tawny 
 mountain-lions! They were racing down the canon, 
 jumping sidewise and running against each other in a 
 way that was, no doubt, intended to be playful, and I 
 was just about to stop one of them with a shot from 
 my rifle, when in the same breath each of them caught 
 a scent of the elk's carcass, and came to a sudden halt. 
 
 " They stood for a moment with heads erect, ears 
 pricked forward, and tails switching eagerly, their yel-. 
 low eyes gleaming and scintillating, the white spots on 
 
HUNTING STORIES 65 
 
 their breasts offering a splendid target if I had cared 
 \o shoot at once. They were fine, sleek animals with 
 glossy coats, far more imposing in looks, and much 
 larger than the panther of the East and South, and I 
 was anxious to bag both of them, which I thought I 
 might make sure of doingif they attacked my bait, as 
 I might easily bore them both with a single shot from 
 my "Winchester express if they got in range. 
 
 " They hesitated but an instant, a few seconds rather, 
 then leaped the channel of the stream with cat-like 
 jumps and approached the elk which they cautiously 
 sniffed with pointed noses. I rejoiced at the prospect 
 of securing two such magnificent cats. 
 
 " One of them, the larger and a male, came up to the 
 bait first, snuffed it over, licked the fresh blood about 
 the neck,then with a sudden proprietary air he mounted 
 the carcass with his forefeet, gave a satisfied purr, that 
 sounded like the muffled drumming of a partridge's 
 wings, and switched his tail about with a snapping 
 * motion at the end, just as a cat with a fresh-caught 
 mouse in her paws might have done. 
 
 "The female took her turn at licking the bloody 
 neck, and snarled her cat-pleasure at the prospect of a 
 gratuitous feast. They did not seem to be in the least 
 hungry, for they made no move toward devouring, but 
 after snuffing and examining the game for a bit, they 
 sat about scratching leaves and dirt over it, with the 
 evident intention of preserving or hiding it for future 
 use. 
 
 "Thinking my time had now come, I shifted my 
 position carefully, and brought my gun to bear upon 
 them, waiting only for an opportunity to make one 
 bullet to kill or cripple them both, as I feared that the 
 
66 HUNTING STOEIES. 
 
 unhurt one would get out of sight before I could get a 
 fair shot at it. 
 
 " Suddenly, the big one threw himself upon the elk 
 with a harsh snarl, his hair raising on end, his ears laid 
 back, and his tail switching viciously as he lay at full 
 length, his head turned away from me, evidently 
 watching some object down the canon. The female, 
 too, advanced nearly beside him, her hair sticking out 
 like bristles, and her angry snarling was deeper and 
 more threatening than his. 
 
 " At first I could see nothing of the intruder against 
 which this fierce threatening was launched, but I more 
 than suspected its nature, and my excitement rose. 
 Either another lion or a bear was approaching, I felt 
 certain, and so it proved ; it was a grizzly, and one of 
 the largest I had ever seen ! 
 
 " He reared himself suddenly out of the bed of the 
 little stream, only a few yards from the lions and the 
 elk. He had been traveling up the bed of the creek, 
 — as bears often do in a shallow stream, — and attracted 
 by the snarls of the lions who had heard him coming 
 had emerged to see what the fuss was about. 
 
 "To my delight he took in the situation at a glance, 
 and without a minute's hesitation he shambled toward 
 the belligerent cats, mingling his hoarse growls with 
 their savage snarlings. 
 
 " I had heard that the mountain lion would not run 
 from a grizzly, but did not believe it, and despite the 
 fearful threatening of the two before me, I expected to 
 see them give way as the monstrous bear came up. 
 Imagine my astonishment when, as the grizzly charged 
 within leaping distance, both of the panthers sprang 
 upon him instantlv. 
 
HUNTING STORIES, 67 
 
 **I could not properly describe the scene which 
 followed ; both brutes pounced upon the grizzly tooth 
 and nail, and closed with him in such a fury of savage 
 outcries as made my hair rise, and my whole body 
 prickle with intense excitement. 
 
 " The grizzly reared as the two animals struck him ; 
 as he came up in a sitting position upon his haunches 
 he shook the female lion from bis shoulder. But the 
 male lion held him by the throat, his tawny body lay 
 along the bear's belly, and his hind legs were working 
 with lightning-like speed and strength. * 
 
 " The bear opened his mouth wide, and roared as he 
 turned his head sidewise and downwards, and strove to 
 catch his antagonist's neck with his teeth. He failed 
 in his attempt, but at the same moment he caught the 
 lion's body just below the shoulders in a clutch of his 
 terrible claws, which seemed literally to flatten the 
 animal between them. 
 
 "The lion relaxed his hold of the bear's neck, threw 
 back his head, and sought to writhe loose from the 
 bear. It would have gone hard with him, had not the 
 female lion by a desperate spring fastened herself so 
 strongly upon the back of the bear's neck that he was 
 forced to drop the male and turn to her v 
 
 " Over and over they rolled about the elk carcass. 
 They clawed, bit and tore at each other with deep, 
 muffled snarls and growls. Sometimes the bear was on 
 top of a lion, and again both lions were on top of him. 
 
 " The grizzly would gather one of them suddenly in 
 his huge forearms, bear it down upon the ground in 
 the effort to crush and bite the life out of it, then feel- 
 ing th# teeth of the other which would invariably seize 
 
68 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 upon the back of his neck, the infuriated monster would 
 loose his hold, and whirl upon that one. 
 
 " Soon, in one of these whirls, he caught the smaller 
 lion, and gave her such a terrible bite before the male's 
 attack— which was from, behind as usual — could induce 
 him to release her, that she lost ' sand ' completely, 
 and slunk limping away, evidently badly hurt. 
 
 " The male lion immediately took the defensive, 
 dodged about the grizzly, and leaped -easily out of 
 reach of his furious charges. I saw that Bruin had 
 the best of the fight and was likely to maintain his 
 advantage ; and as I was far more anxious to secure 
 the tremendous beast than I was to get the lions, I 
 opened fire upon him with my Winchester, and gave 
 him a ball behind the shoulder as he~turned broadside 
 in one of his rushes at the lion. Luckily the first shot 
 killed him. 
 
 " The lion, more frightened at the report of the gun 
 than he had been at the bear, bounded across the 
 creek, and though I fired two shots at him before he 
 got out of sight I missed him. The male got off scot- 
 free, as I do not think the bear had given him more 
 than a few scratches, but I followed the female, and 
 overtook her in a crippled condition some half a mile 
 up the canon : a single bullet killed her." 
 
VIII. 
 
 IN THE CACHE CREEK WOODS. 
 
 We had been watching an opportunity to talk with 
 .father for a week, but, to tell the truth, he had not been 
 in a very good, humor. The crops were light, pork 
 bade fair to be low too, and we knew he had interest- 
 money to make out on the first day of December, a 
 fact that troubled him a good deal, for it was October 
 already. However, he looked rather more cheerful 
 this morning ; so my brother, Ad, mustered up courage, 
 and said : 
 
 " If you will let Lew and me go after ' cons ' this 
 fall, we will engage to pay you fifteen dollars a month 
 for our time, and board ourselves." 
 
 Father looked at him a moment, and then sharply 
 at me. He evidently did not favor it. 
 
 " Who will do the fall's work? " he exclaimed. 
 " Who will look to the hogs? " 
 
 Ad. did not like to say : "It will be necessary for you 
 to do that yourself," so he simply said : " It seems to 
 me that ninety dollars would help a good deal on the 
 bills that are coming due." 
 
 Father rose and went to the door ; then, as mother 
 had breakfast about ready, he sat down at the table. 
 u Well, you may as well eat your breakfast, boys," he 
 said. 
 
 We ate in silence. Just as we were getting up from 
 the table, father said : " If you feel quite sure that you 
 can save thirty dollars a month, as I need the money, 
 I think I will try to spare you." 
 
70 HUNTING STORIES. ' 
 
 That was enough. Weren't we glad, though ! 
 
 Perhaps the reader is ^wondering what we meant by- 
 going " after 'cons.' " Did you ever eat a pecan nut ? 
 Here in northern Texas, and in the Indian Territory, 
 along the upper course of Red River, boys earn pocket 
 money by gathering and selling pecans. It is quite 
 a business, in fact. "We make camping-out trips of a 
 month or six weeks' duration. The nuts are ripe by 
 the first of October, and the gathering season lasts till 
 the first of the following January. The pecan nut tree 
 is a variety of hickory, as many know. 
 
 At this season of the year our climate is almost 
 perfect. There is an occasional " norther/' of course ; 
 but a day or two of cold north wind may well be 
 served up as a spice for the long dessert of genial sun- 
 shine with which the winter solstice favors us. 
 
 Our summers, however, cannot be so highly recom- 
 mended ; for though the thermometer stands at 968 in 
 the shade nearly all day, one-half of the inhabitants 
 are commonly shivering every other day with the 
 cold. Chills and fever ! These are the blots on our 
 summer climate. 
 
 Pecan trees are very numerous on the banks of all 
 the wooded streams of Texas and the Indian Territory, 
 but it is among the groves along Red River that the 
 nuts are most abundant. There, too, the "camp of 
 the picker " will be most often seen. 
 
 Let me say here that gathering pecans, as a busi- 
 ness, involves work / and the industrious picker goes 
 from his camp in the morning provided with a " strap 
 sack" and along, slender pole. The sack, made of 
 stiff ducking, with leather-covered bottom, will hold a 
 peck or more of nuts, and is carried by a broad strap 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 71 
 
 thrown over the shoulder. The pole is a light, strong 
 sapling, as long as the picker can conveniently carry 
 or handle. This is a very necessary part of his outfit. 
 Without it he could accomplish little, for the pecan 
 tree is tall and slender, with slim branches that offer 
 little aid to climbers ; while the nuts themselves are 
 incased in hard, oblong shucks, and yield very slowly 
 to the forces of nature, but very quickly to the smart 
 raps of the gatherer's pole. 
 
 An active picker will gather from two to three 
 bushels a day. When gathered, the nuts are worth, 
 on an average, two dollars and a quarter per bushel at 
 the nearest " store/' or frontier town. 
 
 Thus the sons of farmers living along Red River 
 frequently make good wages during the pecan months, 
 and get some sport into the bargain. Not that there 
 is much sport in the picking of the nuts, but the deep 
 woods into which the picker must penetrate are still 
 well stocked with game. Deer, turkeys, wild cats and 
 panthers are to be met in these wild places. The wild 
 turkeys are especially abundant, and the nut-gath- 
 erers carry guns, of course. 
 
 Another kind of game is met in some places, too fre- 
 quently met, let me say, and this is the wild hog. These 
 vicious brutes, like those in the swamps of Mississippi, 
 the descendants of the domestic animals — are indeed a 
 " thorn in the flesh " to the pecan-picker. Not only 
 do they devour bushels of the windfalls, but they often 
 make a raid, in the absence of the picker, into his camp 
 and plunder his larder. 
 
 Nor is this all. . The old boars are fierce and vicious, 
 and many of them seem determined to drive all tres- 
 passers from the woods through which they roam. The 
 
72 HUNTING- STORIES. 
 
 pecan*picker is very willing to avoid encounters with, 
 them, and never shoots one unless forced to do so to 
 escape injury, for many of them bear the brand of an 
 owner. 
 
 But occasionally a pitched battle takes place between 
 some savage old "tusker" and an exasperated picker, 
 which usually ends in the death of the brute. It is a 
 dangerous encounter, however, even when well armed, 
 for the brush and sweet-briers are usually more than 
 waist-high, and a boar's motions are very rapid and 
 uncertain. 
 
 This introduction was necessary before beginning my 
 story, in order that I may be understood. 
 
 Gur home is on the south side of Red River ; and 
 having made up an outfit, something as above indicated, 
 and procured a six weeks' stock of bacon, lard and corn 
 meal, we set off on the morning of the 4th of October 
 with old " Buck" — one of our horses- — harnessed into a 
 farm wagon, containing tent, blankets, etc. 
 
 Fording the river, we went ten or fifteen miles up 
 Cache creek, to a tract of timber which we had pre- 
 viously "prospected." It was a good place for nuts, 
 and one not likely to be visited by other pickers. 
 
 Our method of disposing of the nuts, which other- 
 wise would accumulate on our hands, or cause much 
 waste of time in hauling across the river, was a very 
 convenient one. We were within half a day's drive 
 of one of the numerous freight roads into the Territory ; 
 and the "freighters," returning without load, from a 
 trip to one of the northern posts or agencies, willingly 
 gave us two dollars per bushel for all the nuts we chose 
 to bring them ; for they were sure to sell them at an 
 advance of from twenty -five- to fifty cents per bushel. 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 73 
 
 There is no trouble in catching a "freighter" at 
 the creek crossings, on almost any morning or evening. 
 
 Our camping-place was near a little tributary of the 
 Cache, called the Deep Red, in the midst of the pecan 
 and hackberry woods. For the first two weeks, we did 
 not see a man except the passing freighters. By the 
 afternoon of the fourteenth day, we had gathered over 
 fifty bushels of nuts, for which we had received from 
 the freighters over one hundred dollars; more than 
 enough for our " freedom money " till January. There 
 seemed no limit to the quantity of pecans on the trees. 
 Turkeys were plenty, and, as yet, we had not heard a 
 hog nor seen a trace of one. 
 
 That afternoon Ad took old Buck and the wagon, to 
 go up the creek a few miles after a load of " windfall " 
 nuts, which we had scraped together on the ground 
 under the trees, the afternoon before, leaving me to 
 pick, as usual, nearer the camp. We had seen deer 
 signs on the creek, and he took our breech-loading 
 carbine (a "Winchester) along with him. There remained 
 to me only the light shot-gun. 
 
 " Bring back a deer," I called to him, as he drove 
 out through the timber ; " and I will have a turkey all 
 ready when you get here." 
 
 " I'll do it," he said. " Have your turkey ready, for I 
 shall be hungry." 
 
 For three or four hours I was busy, rapping limbs 
 with my pole and gathering the nuts that fell ; and in 
 fact came near forgetting the turkey altogether, in the 
 castles I was building for expending the three hundred 
 dollars which I hoped to clear that fall, and by which 
 I could make a grand tour to New York and Boston. 
 The late afternoon sun-rays falling in between the 
 
f4 HUNTING STOEIES. 
 
 hickory trunks at last reminded me of my duties as 
 cook, and hastily taking my fourth sack-load of nuts to 
 camp, I loaded the shot-gun and started for my turkey. 
 
 From previous experience, I knew that the creek- 
 bank was the place to look for them, at this time of 
 day; and, indeed, I had scarcely reached it when a 
 plaintive " Yeap, yeap, yeap, yop, yop, yop ! " came to 
 my ear, from a few rods below. The bird had evidently 
 strayed away from its mates, and was complaining 
 loudly of its separation. I had to make my way very 
 cautiously through a thick growth of young hackberries, 
 but at length reached the desired position, and peering 
 through the bushes from the top of the bank, was 
 rewarded by the sight of a fine young gobbler trotting 
 back and forth upon a sand-bar, on the opposite side of 
 the creek. The turkey seemed bewildered and unable 
 to decide which direction to take ; but in a moment I 
 raised my gun and the stricken turkey lay dead on the 
 sand. 
 
 With the report of the gun, however, quite another 
 sort of game turned up. Close at hand, in the thicket, 
 I heard a surprised Whoogh ! whoogh ! then a crash in 
 the brush followed by the angry chop ! chop ! chop ! of 
 a boar's jaws. 
 
 Knowing how rapid these ugly brutes sometimes 
 are in their rushes, I lost no time in jumping down to 
 the partly dry bed of the creek, and wading quickly 
 through the water, caught up my turkey, with the 
 intention of leaving such a dangerous neighborhood, 
 without loss of time. But the thicket was very dense 
 on the other bank, and I was obliged to follow up the 
 ' the creek, for a few rods, to get out of it. I 
 went or tip-toe, and it seemed to me I hardly stirred 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 75 
 
 a pebble, yet I had not gone more than twenty yards, 
 when with another gruff whoogh, and a clash of his 
 long tusks, a great, gaunt, spotted boar plunged out 
 from amongst the sweet-briers, and throwing the froth 
 from his mouth high into the air as he " clacked," came 
 at me like a shot. 
 
 My gun was empty. I knew that I stood no chance 
 with such a creature by clubbing the breech To run 
 was all that I could do, and run I did, down the bed of 
 the creek, at my very best pace. 
 
 But let no one think that he can outrun a wild boar; 
 I had not taken ten jumps, when a loud whoogh at 
 my very heels told me that the brute was upon me and 
 would the next moment rip me up. 
 
 I did what 'most any one, overtaken, will do — leaped 
 aside as far and as lithely as I could. 
 
 The boar went by me with a rush, plowing through 
 the sand and making the pebbles fly, as if a hundred- 
 T)ound shot had struck beside me ! 
 
 I did not wait to even look at him, but tacked about, 
 as if on a pivot, and ran up stream, with all my might 
 and main ! But the boar pursued almost as quickly 
 as I, and I had not run a hundred feet before he was 
 at my heels again ! 
 
 Again I leaped for life, to one side ; and again the 
 boar plowed by! The next instant I was running 
 for dear life's sake down stream again ! Four times I 
 ran back and forth in this manner, and every time the 
 boar came so close that he threw the froth from his 
 mouth all over my back! It seemed as if he came 
 closer to me each time. I felt my strength, or at least 
 my breath, failing me. The thought that I must be 
 ripped and killed by that savage animal was an awful 
 
76 
 
 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 one; and catch me I knew he would in less than 
 another minute. But just as I tacked the fourth time? 
 
 my eye fell on a hackberry sapling that leaned out 
 from the thicket on the bank, over the creek bed. The 
 trunk was, perhaps, four feet up from my head. As I 
 ran under it, I summoned all my energy, jumped and 
 
UNTING STOBIES. , 77 
 
 caught it with my hands. It bent under the weight, 
 but I drew my legs up, and clapped my feet round it, 
 just in time to escape a spiteful upward slash of the 
 boar's tushes ! He just missed my body. Another foot 
 and he would have struck me ! 
 
 I wiggled round to the top side of the sapling, into a 
 more secure position, and was now perhaps six feet 
 above the boar's head. 
 
 There I lay and panted ; while beneath, the old 
 tusker stood and looked up at me, whetting his tusks, 
 his wicked little red eyes fairly sparkling with fury, and 
 the long bristles standing up all along his fore should- 
 ers and back. 
 
 Finding that he could not reach me, the boar began 
 rooting and tearing out the bank at the roots of the 
 sapling. Bip, rip went his old tusks through the turf 
 and fibres. I felt the sapling jar, and soon began to 
 fear that he might tear enough of the roots and the 
 earth away so that it would fall over into the creek 
 bed. 
 
 Every few moments the malignant brute would stop 
 and eye me for an instant, then fall to ripping at the 
 roots again. I really think that the creature had some 
 plan of getting me down. 
 
 Already it was past sunset, and twilight would soon 
 come on. Ad ought to be back by this time, I thought, 
 and in hopes of his assistance, I now began to shout for 
 -help. For a time the forest echoes were my only 
 responses, but I kept shouting at intervals of half a 
 minute, or less ; and at length got an answering hullo/ 
 from away up the creek. 
 
 "Help ! " I shouted. " Help, help ! " 
 
 Ad was at this time about half a mile from camp, 
 
78 HUNTING STOKIES. 
 
 coming home with a wagon-load of pecans. "When he 
 heard me call "help !" he unhitched old "Buck" from 
 the wagon, jumped on his back and came down at a 
 gallop. In a minute or two, I heard him dashing in 
 through the sweet-briers at a great pace. 
 
 " Hold on ! " I shouted. " Get your gun ready. I 
 am treed by a savage old boar. You must look out 
 for him. He's full of fight." 
 
 " I'll settle him ! " cried Ad cheerily. 
 
 But the boar no sooner heard his voice than he gave 
 one of his whooghs ! rushed up the bank and out through 
 the brush, toward the sound. 
 
 I could just see Ad over the briers. 
 
 " Look sharp ! " I called out. " He's coming for you ! " 
 
 " Let him come ! " Ad exclaimed ; I heard the carbine 
 hammer click; then crack went a shot ! Old "Buck's" 
 head reared up in sight, at the same instant. The boar 
 had charged blindly at the horse. In the fracas, Ad 
 was thrown violently into the briers. 
 
 Fearing the worst, I jumped down from the sapling, 
 and ran through the brush on the trail of the boar. 
 But before I got through, another shot cracked, and Ad 
 cried out : " All right ! I've settled him this time I " 
 
 When I got through the thicket, he was standing in 
 triumph, over the still heaving body of the boar. 
 
 " Missed him the first time," said he, " then the horse 
 jumped before I could catch the reins an' threw me. Old 
 ' Buck' ran off in no time ; and then the boar turned on 
 me, as I lay sprawled out here. I continued to work 
 the lever and shove the muzzle down, as he came 
 towards me. See, the bullet went in at his mouth, an 5 
 came out at the back of his head." 
 
 I got the turkey and the shot-gun ; and we went back 
 
HUNTING STOKIES. 79 
 
 to camp— where the first living objects we saw were 
 fifteen or twenty sows — the old tusker's family, proba- 
 bly, champing up our supplies, and ripping our tent 
 and blankets to pieces. In fact, they had pretty nearly 
 ruined our domestic arrangements, and it was four or 
 five days before we got fresh provisions, and were in 
 trim to resume pecan-picking. 
 
 Yet, despite our misadventure, we made a very hand- 
 some sum of money— for boys — that year. 
 
IX. 
 
 PENNED IN WITH A GRIZZLY. 
 
 Numerous accounts of adventures with Old Ephraim, 
 as the grizzly is called in his native mountains, have 
 come to me through an extensive frontier acquaintance. 
 Usually these accounts bear a strong resemblance to 
 each other in the details of incident. 
 
 A bear is seen ; shots are fired, and sometimes the 
 animal is killed by a lucky first shot ; but generally — 
 either owing to its almost bullet-proof toughness, or 
 the hunters excitement — Bruin is not hit, or is only 
 wounded. If wounded, the grizzly invariably attacks 
 his assailant, and the hunter must trust to his legs, or 
 to his horse, if he has one, or to the effectiveness of his 
 repeating rifle at quick sight and short range. 
 
 Old Ephraim comes with a tremendous rush when 
 hit not mortally. Many hairbreadth escapes occur, 
 and stirring fights take place between him and his 
 human foe. However, an account both amusing and 
 stirring is told by a mining engineer of Montana, in 
 which the grizzly plays a — for him — rather novel role 
 of camp thief and house burglar. 
 
 " Ed " Crandall, chief engineer for a Montana mining 
 company, tells the story, and I will give it, as nearly as 
 I can, as he related it to me. 
 
 We had been talking about grizzly-hunting. 
 
 " My first sight of Old Ephraim," said he, " in faot, 
 my first experience with him, was just after I came out 
 here, fresh from the Polytechnic Institute. It was in 
 
 80 
 
HUNTING STORMS. 81 
 
 September, 1877. I landed off the stage at Virginia 
 City on the 3d of August, and on the 5th I had the 
 hick to meet an old friend on the street. His name 
 was Adam Fuhr, and he was a school-mate at the dis- 
 trict school where I learned my A B C up in the moun- 
 tains of western Pennsylvania. 
 
 "Adam was - delighted to see me, and he had a 
 scheme to unfold immediately, in which he proposed 
 I should become a partner with himself and another, 
 who, he said, were going to prospect a quartz lead in 
 the mountains west of Bannock City. 
 
 " They had struck a lode near the head of Horse Plain 
 creek, where there had been a placer excitement some 
 years before. 
 
 " The placer digging had played out soon, but Ormsby, 
 Adam's partner, who was there while it lasted, had 
 become impressed by the quartz croppings he had seen 
 among the rocks above the valley, and, though he left 
 with the rest, he had intended to go back at some time 
 and prospect. He had fallen in with Adam, and the 
 spring before I came they had gone up, stayed nearly 
 all summer, and found a lead that they thought worth 
 going into. 
 
 " As I had come out to obtain employment as a min- 
 ing engineer, I of course fell in with the plan, as, per- 
 haps, offering something better than wages. "When I 
 met them, Adam and Ormsby were getting together 
 an outfit for their work— provisions, drills, picks and 
 blasting-powder. 
 
 " As Ormsby was willing to take me in, I paid my 
 share of the expense of outfitting, and we hired a fellow 
 with ponies and burros to take us up. 
 
 " We got up there about the middle of August, and 
 
82 HUNTING STOBIBS. 
 
 took up our abode in one of the five log buildings of 
 what had once been known, in fact was still known, as 
 'Dead Mule's Diggin's' a name given it by the dis- 
 gusted miners when the 'pay dirt' ceased to 'pan out. ' 
 
 "We found ourselves quartered very comfortably. 
 The building was a one-story log structure, about 
 eighteen by twenty-four, with a board roof, two single 
 windows, high up, and a heavy plank or puncheon 
 door. It had no floor, but there were two stout sleep- 
 ing bunks, a rough table, a number of stools, and a 
 good fire-place. Somebody, evidently, had lived there 
 who cared for the conveniences of civilization. 
 
 "After we had got comfortably settled and sent our 
 * packer' home with his animals, we went to work with 
 drill, pick and powder upon the quartz lead which 
 Ormsby had discovered. I had come prepared to assay, 
 and, as we advanced on the lead, I found the out-look 
 daily more favorable, but suddenly, after two or three 
 weeks of hard work, the lode gave out entirely. It was 
 a * blind lead ' ; one of those fragments of a vein broken 
 off, and shoved to the surface in some ancient upheaval. 
 
 "We concluded, as we were prepared for a several 
 months' stay, to put in the time prospecting and hunt- 
 ing. We had a good time ; for prospectors, you know, 
 are never discouraged; they are always expecting to 
 4 strike it rich' soon, and I found it took a ' tenderfoot ' 
 but a very short time to attain a solid state of exuberant 
 expeotancy. 
 
 " There was an abundance of game up there ; the 
 black-tail, or 'mule-deer,' were especially numerous, 
 and there were grizzlies and mountain lions to be met 
 occasionally, besides smaller game — grouse, mountain 
 quail and rabbit ; but we had been there several weeks 
 
HUNTING ST0KIES. 83 
 
 before we saw ursus Korribilis, and when we did meet 
 him, it was at most uncomfortably close quarters, and 
 in a trying situation. 
 
 "It was a strange experience-— one, probably, that 
 never occurred to hunters before. 
 
 " "We came home one night, toward the last of Sep- 
 tember, from a prospecting trip, and found that the 
 carcass of a black-tail that was hungup on the outside of 
 our cabin wall had been pulled down and dragged away. 
 The boys, Adam and Ormsby/ thought it was the work 
 of a mountain lion, but they were not certain, for the 
 ground was so hard and dry that the beast, whatever 
 it was, had left no tracks. Only the faint, slightly 
 blood-marked trail of the carcass was to be seen. 
 
 " But when we went into the cabin they changed 
 their minds about its being a lion, for the brute had 
 been in there and had done plenty of mischief. 
 
 "The door must have come open after we left, for 
 the latch, a big wooden one on the inside, was defective ; 
 sometimes it caught, and sometimes it didn't, and the 
 region was so solitary and so seldom visited by strangers 
 that we had not thought it worth while to make the 
 fastening more secure. 
 
 " But a trespasser had been there at last, though 
 not a human one. The table, upon which had stood 
 the most of our cooking utensils and the remains of 
 our breakfast, was knocked over. We never cleaned 
 the dishes from one meal until we were ready to get 
 the next. The greasy platters had been licked, and all 
 the scraps eaten. A wooden pail of sugar and an 
 opened can of lard had been devoured. 
 
 "Not satisfied with these depredations, the creature 
 had pulled the blankets off the bunks, torn some of 
 
84 HUNTING STORIJBS. 
 
 them, and scattered them all about the room. A sack 
 of coffee also, in the 'provision corner,' was ripped 
 open, and the contents were strewn about. 
 
 " Adam and Ormsby at once concluded this to be 
 the work of a bear, and, as there was no other kind 
 about, of a grizzly, although they had never heard 
 of a grizzly entering a human habitation before. They 
 thought, too, that the creature would return, and we 
 immediately made up our minds to lie in wait with 
 our rifles— one at a time — until it should come back, 
 when we believed, Jrom the cover of the cabin, it 
 could be killed without danger. 
 
 " It would come back about the same hour the next 
 day, Ormsby thought, and we all agreed that the 
 creature must have had enough to eat to protect us 
 from its return that night. Accordingly we hung up 
 our guns — there were old hooks of deer's horns along 
 the walls— cooked and ate our suppers, and' after a 
 time crawled into our bunks and fell fast asleep. 
 
 " The bunks were both on the same side of the 
 room ; I slept on the one next, to the door, while Adam 
 and Ormsby occupied one in a corner near the fire- 
 place. It was a fairly warm night, and, as usual, in 
 order that we might have a good supply of out-door 
 air, we covered ourselves well with blankets, and left 
 the door slightly ajar. 
 
 " Some time after midnight I was awakened from a 
 disturbed sleep by a sniffling and a rasping sound that 
 seemed to come from the center of the room. I seemed 
 to have heard something before, a creaking and scratch- 
 ing -sound was my impression of it, and s now thor- 
 oughly aroused, I raised myself upon my elbow and 
 looked. 
 
HUNTING STORHf . 85 
 
 "The door was half -open, a flood of moonlight was 
 pouring in from a full moon, and the sight that met 
 my eyes was, to say the least, startling. 
 
 " The grizzly was there, a monstrous great creature 
 standing on its hind legs in front of the table and hold- 
 ing in its forearms a six-quart wooden pail freshly filled 
 with sugar, and licking out the contents with sniffs of 
 evident satisfaction. 
 
 " It was that temptation, the bear's uncontrollable 
 "liking for sweet, that had brought it back so soon. 
 
 " I was not only startled at the discovery, t was 
 thoroughly frightened, and before I could collect my 
 senses or make a move, I heard a sharp, frightened 
 whisper from my partners' bunk. 
 
 " ' Great Scott ? Look there.' 
 
 " It was Adam, awakened by the' licking sounds, 
 and the grizzly, which had stood with its back to me 
 noticed either his whisper or his movement, and sud- 
 denly letting the~"pail fall, gave a growl, dropped 
 down upon all fours, and began backing toward the 
 door. Ormsby awoke and started up, but Adam seized 
 him and held him down. 
 
 " ' It's the bear,' he whispered. ' He's in here, but 
 he's backin' out. Keep still ? ' 
 
 "Just then, however, the grizzly, unable to steer its 
 unwieldy bulk backward through so small a space, 
 struck the door, and, as a matter of course, caused it to 
 shut. It swung noisily and latched. 
 
 " We had trapped a grizzly, but we were in the trap 
 with him. The big brute turned round as the cloor 
 brought him up and sniffed at the planks with a hoarse 
 whine of anxiety. 
 
 " Under the bunks, everybody,' said Adam ; 'we're 
 
86 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 penned in with him.' And> with an excited scramble, 
 we plunged out and under cover of our beds like frogs 
 jumping from bogs down into the mud. I rolled over 
 the foot of mine so as to go under as far away from 
 the bear as possible. 
 
 " Our movements excited the bear and frightened 
 him evidently, for he now began plunging wildly about 
 and giving vent to hoarse, frightened grunts. 
 
 " He knocked over the table again and sent things 
 flying in every direction. I crawled back snug against 
 the wall under my bunk and lay there in a condition 
 of fright that I should have hard work to describe. 
 ' " We were truly in a pretty predicament, shut in 
 there with that big raging brute, not a weapon to hand 
 — for our guns were hung up on the opposite wall — and 
 the bunks, our only protection, liable to be smashed 
 down at any moment by his powerful paws. 
 
 " The grizzly, however, was as much alarmed as we 
 were. He tore about the room like a mad bull, bellow- 
 ing and puffing as he tried his strength, buffeting the 
 door and walls with blows that made them shiver. 
 
 " The windows, I should have said before, were 
 nothing but square holes in the walls, and had been 
 closed by nailing boards over them. As they were 
 high, and admitted no light, the room was totally dark. 
 
 " We could only judge of the grizzly's whereabouts 
 by its movements, and these brought him frightfully 
 close at times. Once he sprang with his full weight 
 on top of my bunk, and I could hear it creak and strain 
 beneath him as he reared up and pawed desperately 
 at the logs above. 
 
 " It was a fearful moment for me ; but at length, old 
 Ursus lunged off to the floor again, and then a lucky 
 
HUNTING STOKIES. 87 
 
 thing happened. The bear must have caught a gleam 
 of out-door light between the boards nailed across the 
 opposite window, as he turned on the bunk, for he 
 charged straight across there and reared up against 
 the wall, and the next instant we heard a ripping sound 
 of breaking nails and the clatter of the boards as they 
 fell to the ground inside. 
 
 " * He's opened a window ! '" I shouted, with the 
 recklessness of great relief. 
 
 " He was certainly trying, and we could hear him 
 puffing and tugging as he struggled to pull his huge 
 body up into the opening. 
 
 " 'Ed ! ' called Adam, * if you dare get out and open 
 the door we can get rid of him now.' It required a 
 good deal of determination to make the attempt, but 
 I was close to the door and I crawled out, flung it 
 open, and scrambled back to cover, in the briefest pos- 
 sible space of time. That let in the light again, and 
 we could see Bruin with his forepaws and head out of 
 the window trying to strain his big body after them. 
 
 " Then Adam did a daring thing. He got out from 
 under his bunk, sprang across to the wall, caught down 
 his 40-90 Sharp, that hung there, loaded as usual, for 
 emergency, and, stepping close to the struggling brute, 
 shoved the muzzle almost against its side, fired, and 
 leaped back to shelter again. 
 
 "I think he wasn't out from under his bunk more 
 than fifteen seconds. 
 
 "The shot too was a well-calculated one. The 
 grizzly answered the roar of the gun with a fierce 
 grunt, struggled and scratched for a moment to get 
 through the window-hole, and then fell back with a 
 
88 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 great flop and lay on its back pawing the air and 
 gasping for breath. 
 
 "We peered out from under the sheltering bunks 
 fearfully, watching the great, heaving body until at 
 last it rolled over on its side and lay limp and motion- 
 less. 
 
 " Then we got out and lighted a lantern and exam- 
 ined it. It was a magnificent brute, a male, and 
 weighed nearly eight hundred pounds. 
 
 " * Ad,' said Ormsby, after looking the great beast 
 over, and seeing from the position of the wound that 
 the ounce and a quarter ball must have gone through 
 its heart, ' Ad, that was the coolest, grittiest thing I 
 ever saw done.' 
 
 " I had always known that Adam was plucky, and 
 his action that night completely won my admiration. 
 I joined Ormsby in hearty praise of it. 
 
 "Altogether it was a strange encounter, both fear- 
 ful and funny — funny after it was over — and I think it 
 was only explainable from the fact that those buildings 
 had stood there within the grizzly's haunts solitary and 
 unoccupied so long that the animal had lost all fear of 
 them. As the one we lived in was the only one with a 
 door left hanging, it is quite probable that this bear, 
 and perhaps others, had been inside them all before. 
 
 k 
 
X. 
 
 CAUGHT. 
 
 One summer evening, several years since, the writer, 
 with a party of young men who were traveling by 
 wagon from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie in Wyoming, 
 camped near the "trail" on the bank of a pretty and 
 swift little stream called the Chugwater. Some hun- 
 dred yards away and opposite their camp were " Chug- 
 water Ranch " buildings. 
 
 These buildings were neat-looking adobe houses — 
 there were two of them—surrounded by a high, strong 
 picket-fence. Outside the adobe enclosure were several 
 sheds and corrals ranged along the slope of a hill. In 
 one of the latter were several calves trotting about and 
 bleating anxiously— the only signs of life about the 
 houses. 
 
 After we had picketed our animals, and while we 
 were cooking our supper, it was suggested that one of 
 us should cross over and see if he could buy a bucket 
 of milk at the ranch. It seemed probable that there 
 must be a woman there. 
 
 The result of this suggestion was that I was asked 
 to go over and make the trial. Taking a tin pail, I 
 jumped across the brook, walked up to the gate and 
 rattled it. There was no response. I undid the fasten- 
 ing — a hook and chain— and rapped at the front door 
 of the first adobe. Again there was no response. 
 Thinking there might be some one in the next building, 
 I walked around and tapped on its door also. 
 
 While I was waiting, I was startled by the appear- 
 
90 HUNTING STOEIE8. 
 
 ance of a big black-antlered elk that came with a stately 
 strut around the corner of the adobe, and stopping 
 within a pace or two, stared at me with its great brown 
 eyes. 
 
 He was a magnificent animal. At first I felt some- 
 what alarmed, lest this apparent guardian oi' the 
 premises might conclude to toss me over the picket- 
 fence on the points of his big horns. But the mild 
 expression of his great eyes reassured me, and after 
 looking at me a few seconds, he stepped forward and 
 laid his velvety nose against my shoulder. 
 
 As I stood for some minutes stroking the big elk's 
 tawny red neck, I heard a long-drawn " How 0-6-0-6 
 up ! " and looking out through the space between the 
 pickets, saw several cow-boys racing a " bunch" of cat- 
 tle down the hill toward the corrals. I at once went 
 outside, and one of the boys, seeing me standing by the 
 gate, came down at a gallop, and drew rein with a 
 hearty " How, stranger ! Want some milk?" 
 
 " How do you do ! " I replied. " Yes, I would like to 
 get some." 
 
 " Come right up to the cow-corral," said he, turning 
 his horse about, " and Ed'll strip you some. He's the 
 only stripper 'bout the ranch, but he can pull milk to 
 beat the oldest man/' 
 
 I followed him to the corral. " Here Ed," he said, 
 as a boyish-looking fellow, wearing a buckskin shirt 
 and a wide-brimmed slouch hat, rode up and nodded to 
 me, " take the stranger's bucket and pull it full of milk 
 for him as lively as ye can. Wants it for supper, I 
 reckon." 
 
 Ed hitched his pony to the corral, and took my pail. 
 The other man dismounted, and we sat down, crossed 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 91 
 
 our legs, and proceeded to "swap talk." In the 
 course of a brief conversation, I learned that he had 
 been for some time " boss" of the ranch, and also that 
 he was a bright, intelligent fellow. 
 
 Presently I pointed to the pet elk, and asked how 
 they had succeeded in taming it so thoroughly. " Oh, 
 elks tame easy enough, if they are caught young," he 
 said. " I had a pretty hard time of it, though, when 
 we got Dudad, as we call him. You'd like to hear 
 about it, perhaps ? Well, I reckon you'll have time 
 before Ed gets through with his milking. 
 
 " When I first came here, five years ago, tnere were 
 a great many elk in the country, but hunters have 
 driven a great many of them off since. They used to 
 come down in spring from the Black Hills to the north 
 and west of here, and stay all summer and fall along 
 the Chug, and out east on the plains. They scattered 
 out in summer to breed their calves, and then in the 
 fall came together in good-sized herds, and I tell you 
 there were some old settlers among the bucks ; big as 
 good-sized steers, and ugly as grizzlies when they were 
 wounded or cornered. 
 
 " But the king among them was ' Old Highflyer.' I - 
 heard the boys telling about him almost as soon as 1 
 got here — a tremendous old buck, that overtopped all 
 the others by five or six inches. 
 
 " Every boy on the range had seen him and knew 
 him. They knew him by his size and by his motions. 
 The first time I saw him, / knew him too; there 
 couldn't be but one such elk in the country at a time. 
 What horns he had ! 
 
 "The first time I saw him was during the June 
 round-up, about a month after I came here. I was 
 
92 BUNTING STORIES. 
 
 down on the Chug, about five miles below here, gath- 
 erin* steers, and was pushing a bnneh along up through 
 a gap in the hills, when all at once I saw the big elk 
 going at a lightning trot over a point of hill straight 
 before me. 
 
 " He was as tall and big as a large five-year-old 
 Texas steer ; and his branching horns were longer and 
 wider than the biggest elk I've ever seen. He got out 
 of sight before I had time to use my carbine. 
 
 " Well, I saw him once or twice more that summer, 
 and then not again till about the first of October, down 
 at the Eagle's Nest, four miles from here. That was 
 when I caught Dudad. It was the queerest thing, the 
 way that calf was caught, jammed in between two 
 rocks where he'd tried tp jump through, just in play, I 
 expect. 
 
 " I'd gone down the Chug to see if I could bring in 
 some maverick steers that had cut loose from a Govern- 
 ment herd, that a day or two before had been driven 
 north for the forts. It was just above a canon gap 
 that we call the Eagle's Nest. I was poking around 
 down in there, looking for the steers, when I found 
 Old Highflyer instead. 
 
 " He was standing on the side-hill across the Chug, 
 right in front of two big boulders that stuck up close 
 to the edge of a quakin' asp thicket. There was a 
 cow-elk with him. She was trotting back and forth 
 around him, acting kind of anxious and queer, while 
 he stood tossing his horns up and down, scrapin' the 
 rocks now and then with a sharp scratching noise, 
 and stampin' his feet savage and nervous like. 
 
 "They didn't notice me, they were so busy with 
 their performance. I knew there was something that 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 98 
 
 serieusly disturbed them, but I couldn't make out what 
 it was. My carbine was at the ranch, but I had a Colt 
 six-shooter with me, and at close range I could handle 
 it as well as a rifle. 1 There was a little clump of 
 quakin' asps to the left, and between me and the elk, 
 and I thought if I could just get behind that, I should 
 be within safe shooting distance. 
 
 " So, slipping off my pony, I led him back and tied 
 him out of sight, and then began to work my way up 
 the hill behind those bushes. It was slow work, for 
 the hill was steep and covered with loose stones, but I 
 managed to worm along without making much noise. 
 
 "Well, I got up behind the bushes at last, and out 
 one side where they were low, and peeped out through 
 the tops. I was as careful as possible, but before I 
 caught sight of the elk I heard a snort, and the next 
 minute I saw them both standing, heads and ears up, 
 facing my bushes. They had he^ird, or scented me, 
 and I saw I must be quick to get a shot. 
 
 "They were about a hundred feet away — close 
 enough range — and I took a quick aim and pulled the 
 trigger. But I wasn't quite quick enough, for both elk 
 whirled to run, and I missed my big buck. 
 
 " The two scurried away up the hill and were out of 
 sight behind the quakin' asps in no time, though I fired 
 a couple of shots after them, jest for luck. Then I 
 went over to the rocks to see if I could find out what 
 had been going on there. 
 
 "I rather reckoned I'd find a calf, either badly 
 wounded by a mountain lion, or hurt in some way, but 
 when I got round where I could see in between the 
 boulders, I reckon I was about as surprised as if I'd 
 b@m suddenly jumped at by a band of Sioux. 
 
94 hunting- stories. 
 
 "There was the calf, sure enough, and in the queerest 
 fix. He'd probably been playin' round the rocks and 
 all of a sudden took it into his head to jump through 
 between them, and was stuck there fast as a bear-trap 
 could have held him. You see, the rocks came close 
 together, in a kind of cone-like shape, and the crack 
 between them widened away from the point where he 
 was caught, and there he hung, the crack not being 
 wide enough to let him through into the space beyond. 
 All he ~ould do was to kick and blat. As soon as I 
 stood above the crack he saw me and broke out in good 
 earnest, bawling like a crazy thing, while his feet flew 
 like the spokes of a buggy-wheel. 
 
 " I stood there a moment, and could not help laughing 
 at his predicament. All at once I heard a savage 
 wheeze and a clatter of hoofs, and looking back, saw 
 Old Highflyer coming for me like a steam-engine. 
 
 "He wasn't a hundred feet away, and was coming 
 with his ears laid back and his hair sticking up on end. 
 But short glimpse 1 as I had of him, I noticed that his 
 head was bloody, showing that he had been wounded. 
 
 " In a second I drew my Colt. Getting a quick aim, 
 I fired, and then made a spring for the crack in the 
 rocks. 
 
 "But I wasn't quick enough. The old fellow reached 
 me before I had time to get into the crevice, and with 
 one sweep of his big branching horns, struck me on the 
 left hand here— you can see the scar yet. I had it 
 behind me, I expect— so; and he threw me into a heap 
 on the ground. 
 
 " Only my hand was hurt, and I scrambled to my 
 feet as the big critter went ploughin' down the hill— 
 for he couldn't stop at once, he was going so swiftly. 
 
HUNTING STOKIES. 95 
 
 Then I scrambled in between the rocks just as he turned 
 to come back. 
 
 " The crevice was slightly higher than my head, and 
 I was in a hole, as it were, between the heels of the calf 
 and the southern end of the crevice. My revolver was 
 gone — knocked out of my hand. 
 
 " But I tell you, stranger, for a few minutes I found 
 that crack in between the boulders the most uncom- 
 fortable place I was ever in. The old buck came 
 rushing up, and glared at me with his big flashing 
 eyes, while the blood dropped out of his nose and 
 mouth from a wound in his upper jaw. 
 
 " Then at my side were the calf's heels, from which 
 I had not room enough to get away — the little wretch 
 raining upon me thick and fast, kick after kick — 
 thump-a-thump ! thump! Yes, and it hurt, too. I 
 thought he'd drive me wild ! 
 
 "I tried to catch the little brute's legs with my 
 right hand, but I might jest as well have tried to seize 
 the buck's antlers and to hold him,. But something had 
 to be done, and that soon, for I felt that I should soon 
 be used up unless I could get away from that calf's 
 heels. Lucky for me, I had a butcher-knife, such as 
 most of the boys carry, in a sheath at my belt. 
 
 " I got that out, and as the old buck threw down his 
 head, making a sideling rake along the crevice with 
 one horn, I struck him in the face, and the point of the 
 knife took hold of the corner of his eye. 
 
 " It was a lucky stroke. He staggered back a few 
 steps, holding his head high up in the air ; then he kind 
 of settled back and shook his head, gave a wild squeal 
 and shot away as fast as his legs could take him. 
 
 "I got out of that place in a hurry, and found 
 
96 HUNTING STOKIBS. 
 
 myself rather used up. I was smarting and aching 
 from the hurt on my hand and from I don't know how 
 many bruises on my back and legs. The fact is, I 
 didn't get entirely over the battering I had had for 
 weeks. I was glad even to get out alive. 
 
 " I found my revolver and managed to get to my 
 pony and ride back to the ranch, where I found one of 
 the boys and sent him up after the calf, which you've 
 seen down at the 'dobes, for that calf was Dudad. 
 
 " We've never seen Old Highflyer since, and whether 
 he got a wound from which he died, or whether he was 
 frightened off the range we never knew." 
 
 Long before the ranchman had finished his story, 
 " Ed " had set the bucket of milk at my feet. The 
 "boys" positively refused pay for the milk, and after 
 thanking them, I carried my treasure back to camp, 
 where I was found fault with for "gassing" so long 
 with the cow-men. 
 
A FIGHT WITH WOLVES. 
 
 In the winter of 1860-1 a family of Trebolts was 
 living in a frontier settlement west of the Des Moines 
 River. 
 
 Jesse and Peter Trebolt were stout, healthy fellows 
 who helped their father during spring and summer, in 
 breaking up land and cultivating the new claim of half 
 a section upon which they had lived for two years. In 
 the autumn and winter, however, when they were not 
 attending school at the log school-house three miles 
 away, they were engaged in trapping and hunting the 
 musk-rat, mink and beaver. 
 
 Like thousands of the first settlers of Iowa and Min- 
 nesota, the Trebolts found their annual fur harvest the 
 most profitable of the year. Musk-rats were the most 
 plentiful of the fur-bearing animals, and during the 
 early autumn the boys took them in small steel traps, 
 which they set in "run ways" and at the foot of 
 "mud slides" along the edges of sloughs and the 
 banks of a creek which ran through the Trebolt home- 
 stead. 
 
 But after the ice froze so as to bear their weight 
 upon the surface of the sloughs and little lakes in 
 which the region abounded, they killed the musquash 
 with their " rat spears," sometimes spearing it through 
 the thin ice as, frightened out of one " house," it swam 
 toward another. 
 
 When the ice became too thick, as it did upon the sec- 
 ond or third cold snap, to spear through, they cut open 
 
 97 
 
98 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 the tops of the rat houses— conical heaps built of 
 rushes, flags and muck, and projecting several feet 
 above the surface of the water — exposing the hollow 
 nest of the little animal. Over this the fur-hunter 
 stood guard with unlif ted spear until the musk-rat, 
 recovered from its fright at his thumping and cutting, 
 popped inside with eyes blinking and fur dripping, 
 when it was pinned with a quick thrust of the pointed 
 rod. 
 
 The rat-spear was made of a sharpened rod of iron or 
 steel, without barb eighteen or twenty inches long, and 
 fastened by a ferrule to a light ash or hickory pole 
 from five to six or seven feet in length. 
 
 Upon their rat-spearing excursions Jesse and Peter 
 carried two of these weapons, made of strong, steel 
 rods and ash poles, and a heavy hatchet for cutting 
 open the houses. 
 
 It was upon an extended trip of this kind that the 
 adventure which follows befell them. 
 
 Late in November of that year, the two lads had 
 received a brief letter from an old Quaker uncle who 
 had left the settlement in which they lived the year 
 before, and moved with his wife and a maiden sister to 
 a new Quaker colony west of the Raccoon River thirty- 
 five miles distant. It ran thus : 
 
 "To My Dear Nephews Jesse and Peter : 
 " Greeting: I have to say to you that I and your Aunt 
 Sarah and my Sister Alzina would be much pleased to see 
 you at Christmas time, if it be the will of God and your 
 father that you should make such a journey from home. 
 
 fi Knowing that your time is well occupied, and with 
 much profit in the taking of the skins of wild animals, 
 I have to say further that the ponds and wet places around 
 about my land do greatly abound in musk-rat, and that I 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 99 
 
 have staked out certain of them, warning off them which 
 trap about here. 
 
 "Now if you will come with your spears, I think you 
 may hunt these animals two or three weeks with much 
 profit. I will be content with one-third the peltry taken 
 for my share. 
 
 " Affectionately and with brotherly lore, 
 " Your uncle, 
 
 " Abeam Jesse Green. " 
 
 As both muskrat and beaver were already getting 
 somewhat scarce along the Des Moines, Jesse and 
 Peter were glad to adopt the plan of their shrewd 
 old uncle. 
 
 Then came a severe blizzard which lasted, blowing 
 and snowing with more or less violence, nearly the 
 whole of Christmas week, and it was not until the 
 morning of the thirtieth of December that they finally 
 set out. 
 
 They traveled with snow-shoes made of hickory 
 "shakes" turned up at the front, and with straps 
 nearly in the centre, which held the foot at the instep 
 and toe. They carried their rat-spears, a hatchet, and 
 a lunch of bread and meat. 
 
 The weather had turned much warmer, and during 
 the middle of the day it thawed so that the snow 
 yielded under their shoes, and so retarded their progress 
 that night came on before they had reached the Kac- 
 coon River, twenty-eight miles from home. The country 
 at that time was very thinly settled, and it so happened 
 that there were no houses in sight during the latter half 
 of their route until the " Quaker Colony " was reached. 
 
 They would gladly have stopped at some settler's 
 cabin for the night, but fearing they might be com- 
 pelled to go down the river nearly as far as they 
 
100 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 would have to travel to reach their uncle's, they guided 
 their course by the '• Big Dipper," and plodded on. 
 
 They had nearly crossed the narrow valley of the 
 river— it was little more than a large ravine at this 
 point — and were pushing along the crest of a huge 
 drift which had blown out from the top and point of 
 a hill between two gullies, when Peter, who was ahead, 
 noticed a number of dark objects moving along the 
 side hill, near the head of the drift a hundred yards or 
 more in advance of him. He thought at first that a 
 drove of deer was coming up out of the valley to feed 
 upon the bare knolls where occasional patches of grass 
 were exposed. 
 
 He turned and spoke to Jesse. 
 
 " Look yonder, Jess, 'f we'd jest brought the shot- 
 gun we might 'a'got a ven'son ! " 
 
 "Them's no deer," said Jesse, who had stopped 
 just behind his brother. :l They're wolves, Pete, an ' a 
 lot of 'em too ; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, 
 eight, nine of 'em, an ' big buffalo wolves, too." 
 
 While he was counting, the animals, which were 
 going at a trot, had filed up to the hill-top, and stopped 
 so that their bodies were plainly outlined against the 
 sky. 
 
 " They've stopped to have a look at us, but I guess 
 they won't dast tackle us," said Peter. " That's the 
 most of them big wolves I ever saw in one drove, but 
 come on, Jess, less scat 'em off, an ' be gettin' to'rd the 
 col'ny." 
 
 But the big brutes were not to -be scatted so readily 
 as Peter had fancied. They squatted upon their 
 haunches, and waited immovably while the boys 
 approached. 
 
HUNTING- STORIES. 
 
 101 
 
 " Scat ; git out o' the road yon brutes," yelled Peter, 
 as he came up within twenty paces or so of where they 
 were sitting. 
 
 Several of them moved cautiously a little to one side, 
 and squatted themselves again, but three of them sat 
 there as though cut out of rock. 
 
102 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 Both Peter and Jesse, as they afterward admitted, 
 began to feel nervous and afraid, and they halted fac- 
 ing the wolves. The big animals, now plainly distin- 
 guishable, looked fearfully gaunt and hungry and their 
 small eyes sparkled viciously in the starlight. 
 
 " Let's take down the side hill, an ' leave 'em alone, 
 Peter," said Jesse. " They're dangerous brutes, them 
 big fellows. You know how they chased old Larry 
 McGinigan up at West Bend three years ago." 
 
 " Yes," returned Peter, " but there was more'n thirty 
 of 'em. I don't b'lieve 't nine wolves 'd dast to tackle 
 two men." 
 
 Still he took his brother's advice, and leading the 
 way turned to the left and started down the side of the 
 hill. Jesse moved along close behind, and each kept 
 an anxious eye over his should sr to see what effect this 
 move would have on the wolves. 
 
 They had advanced a few yards to a point nearly 
 opposite the squatting animals, and were just about to 
 pass out of sight when the pack, setting up a fierce yelp 
 and shrilly Ow-ow-ru-ru-vumg — this is Jesse's attempt 
 at mimicry — came leaping down toward them. 
 
 " They're goin' to pitch into us ! " shouted Jesse, in 
 alarm, and with a sudden backward movement he 
 attempted to get out of his snow-shoes ; but the straps, 
 wet when it had thawed, had frozen to his boots, and 
 the heels of his shoes catching in the crust tripped him. 
 He fell down the hill sliding and rolling for several 
 yards over the slippery crust of the side hill drift. 
 
 The wolves had slackened their speed as Jesse shouted, 
 
 and the foremost were sliding and scratching in an 
 
 effort to halt as he fell, and whether they would really 
 
 attacked him had it not been for this accident 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 103 
 
 cannot be known. Probably not, but seeming to 
 realize his plight, the three foremost animals sprang 
 forward again, and passing Peter, who struck at them 
 with his rat-spear, they jumped savagely at Jesse, 
 snapping and snarling. 
 
 Jesse had lodged in the hollow of a drift, and as the 
 brutes came at him he began shouting and trying to 
 get up, but the snow-shoe on his right boot still stuck. 
 He had let go his spear, and as he raised himself to a 
 sitting posture one of the wolves in its mad rush caught 
 one of his coat-sleeves in its teeth, and jerked him over 
 upon his face. All three of the animals passed him, 
 but gathered themselves again and came at him 
 savagely. 
 
 But Peter, who had got out of his shoe-straps, now 
 rushed at them, made a hard thrust with his spear at one 
 of them, and luckily struck it in the flank with a force 
 that jammed it down upon the snow. Throwing all his 
 weight upon the handle he succeeded in pinning the 
 howling brute, and forced its wriggling body through 
 the crust. 
 
 The outcries of the struggling animal seemed to 
 madden the other two and they turned from Jesse, 
 and sprang upon it, snapping and tearing it reck- 
 lessly. 
 
 Jesse, who had turned over and snatched the hatchet 
 from his belt, now managed to scramble to his feet. 
 He rushed at the maddened brutes, struck one of 
 them upon the head, crashed its skull and killed it 
 instantly. 
 
 Encouraged by this he attacked the other, and 
 would no doubt have killed it, too, had not the beast 
 
104 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 jumped back as he struck. It ran off down the hill 
 yelping. 
 
 Peter was still holding down the one he had speared, 
 but a few raps from Jesse's hatchet quieted the squirm- 
 ing beast, and the two panting boys looked about them. 
 Several of the pack were squatted on the bank above 
 them yelping, and licking their chops, and the others 
 were moving about below. These, though they were 
 evidently ravenous with hunger, did not seem to have 
 the hardihood to come nearer. 
 
 " Are ye hurt, Jess ? " Peter asked, when they had 
 discovered the attitude of the remaining animals 
 
 Jesse replied that he was not injured, but that he was 
 awfully scared, and that one coat-sleeve was nearly 
 torn off him. 
 
 " Well," said Peter, *' I guess if we go off 'n' leave 
 these dead ones the rest'll eat -em up 'n' be satisfied 
 for to-night, but let's skin 'em first." 
 
 Jesse agreed, so they got out their knives, laid their 
 spears and the hatchet close at hand, and set at work 
 The seven remaining wolves were interested spectators 
 of the task ; they gathered around at a few rods dis- 
 tance, sniffing, yelping occasionally, and anxiously 
 shifting about. 
 
 When the boys had finished skinning the dead ani- 
 mals, each fastened a pelt at his belt, got on their snow- 
 shoes, and shouting and brandishing their spears at the 
 nearest wolves to " warn 'em not to follow," set out 
 again in the direction of the Quaker colony. 
 
 They had not gone a hundred yards when they heard 
 the pack behind them yelping, snarling and fighting 
 over the carcasses of the dead wolves. 
 
 They reached Abram Green's cabin, having awak- 
 
HUNTING STOKIES. 105 
 
 ened one of his neighbors to inquire for it, a little after 
 midnight. The old gentleman and his wife got up to 
 give them welcome and while " Aunt Sarah " made a 
 cup of coffee and got them a " a bit to eat " they related 
 their adventure. 
 
 The old gentleman and his wife were much concerned 
 at the narrative, and the old man then told them of the 
 trouble he and his neighbors had been at to keep their 
 chickens, pigs and young animals out of the hungry 
 maws of these same brutes. There was a drove, he 
 said, infesting the neighborhood of somewhere from 
 ten to fifteen of these animals, and the nine which had 
 attacked them must have belonged to it. Their boldness 
 had been extraordinary, but as there was not a gun in 
 the whole colony, he thought this fact and the late 
 severe weather had probably lent courage to the bolder 
 ones, and driven them to the point of attacking the 
 two young men. 
 
 During the three weeks of successful rat-spearing 
 which followed, Peter and Jesse saw numbers of these 
 wolves, and at length several of them became so bold 
 as to follow them about from pond to pond in broad 
 day, eating the carcasses of the musk-rats which were 
 thrown upon the ice near the small hummocks where 
 they had been speared. 
 
, J\.,l. I,« 
 IN THE FRONT OF A STAMPEDE. 
 
 Jean Darblaye, who is now a Montana ranchman, 
 is a modest man, and seldom recounts any adventures 
 in which he bore a prominent part ; but he was lately 
 persuaded to tell the story of one of his experiences, 
 which deserves wider currency than it has yet had. 
 
 Jean was the son of French-Canadian parents, but 
 was born at a frontier post in northern Minnesota. At 
 seven years of age he was sent to St. Louis to school, 
 and for eight years attended the Academy of St. 
 Philippe, but returned every spring by boat to spend 
 the summer with his father at the post. 
 
 His time while at home was occupied in athletic 
 sports and, as he grew older, in hunting. His com- 
 rades were Indian boys, young Sioux, who taught him 
 to shoot with bow and arrow, to ride their stocky and 
 often stubborn little ponies, and to play at lacrosse. 
 He used also to paint his face and join them in their 
 mimic war-dances, in which he could yell as loudly as 
 any of his companions. 
 
 When Jean was fifteen years of age, his father 
 moved westward and established a trading post on the 
 Upper Missouri, near the Belted Buttes. Here he 
 bought furs in connection with the Northwest Fur 
 Company. 
 
 Jean left school, and for the next four years assisted 
 his father in buying and trading "Indian goods " for 
 furs, and in caring for the great bales in the store- 
 room, which had to be " camphored "*and " tobaccoed" 
 
 w 
 
HtTNTlUS STOEIES. 107 
 
 to protect them from dampness and moths. When he 
 was nineteen years old his father died of a wound 
 received from a drunken Mandan. Mr. Darblaye's 
 business affairs were not in a prosperous condition at 
 this time, and when his accounts with the fur company 
 were settled, there were but a few hundred dollars 
 remaining for Jean. 
 
 Left to shift for himself, the young frontiersman set 
 to work at once with an enterprise characteristic of his 
 race. Feeling that he had not the means nor the 
 experience to enable him successfully to compete 
 with the agents of the Northwest Fur Company, he 
 went to St. Louis, and there made arrangements for the 
 sale of buffalo hides, tongues and " hump steak." He 
 engaged a boat to make regular spring and fall trips 
 to the Belted Buttes region for the loads of hides and 
 meat which he proposed to furnish to the St. Louis 
 market. 
 
 Having purchased some improved guns and other 
 articles needful for his undertaking, he went back to the 
 Great Bend of the Missouri, hired three half-breeds and 
 their squaws as assistants, and turned buffalo hunter. 
 
 The young hunter's first season was a prosperous 
 one. He kept two yoke of oxen, a wagon and a driver 
 busy for six weeks in hauling hides and meat to the 
 storehouse to be cured and stored. 
 
 Jean sent two boat loads down the river the first 
 autumn, two the next spring, and cleared about three 
 hundred dollars off each cargo. This amount he 
 regarded as a fair return for his labor and investment, 
 as risks were scarcely counted in that region. 
 
 The months of September and October and of May 
 and June were the periods in whtch the great herds 
 
108 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 migrated between their summer pastures on the high 
 prairies of the British possessions and their winter feed- 
 ing- grounds along the Niobrara and the Platte. At 
 these times the country about" Jean's headquarters 
 swarmed with buffalo. 
 
 \ Almost daily throughout these months great herds 
 of buffalo crossed the river above and below the young 
 trader's block-house, and his most profitable method of 
 hunting was to shoot them from a boat as they swam 
 above his post. The dead bodies were floated down to 
 within a few rods of the post stockade, and hauled out 
 upon the bank, where they were skinned, and the 
 tongues and hump steaks cut from them. In this man- 
 ner buffaloes were killed and brought down from 
 points twenty and even thirty miles distant. 
 
 During the season when the buffaloes were migrat- 
 ing, half-breed seouts employed by Jean scoured the 
 hills and the rolling prairies above the post, watching 
 for any herds which might be pointing toward the 
 river, or feeding in situations whence they could be 
 stampeded toward its waters. 
 
 While the scouts were out, Jean and his hunters 
 were accustomed to remain at some favorable point on 
 the river, with canoes and ponies at hand. If there 
 was time after a scout came in to give warning, they pad- 
 dled to a point just above where the herd was expected 
 to cross, and waited. 
 
 But if greater haste were necessary, they mounted 
 their ponies and rode at a flying gallop for the point of 
 crossing, and taking their position on the bank, shot 
 the big animals as they lunged into the water or swam 
 past. 
 
 During the second autumn of Jean's buffalo-hunting, 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 109 
 
 there came down from the north the largest herd that 
 he ever saw, except the mighty one that afterwards 
 came into the vicinity of Fort Bice, and is known in a 
 legend among the soldiers, scouts and hunters as the 
 " Eight-Mile Square Herd." 
 
 - About the twentieth of September ope of his hunters 
 rode to Jean's station with the information that a herd, 
 " as wide as the eye could see," was moving slowly up 
 from the Buttes in a direction that would bring them to 
 the river at a point twenty miles above the station. 
 
 A young fellow of eighteen years, the son of a boat 
 captain who lived in Yicksburg, was staying with Jean 
 at the time, having come up the river for a hunt. He 
 had been, out several times after buffalo, but had not 
 succeeded in killing one. When the news of the big 
 herd came in, he was wild with excitement. 
 
 "lean get one this time!" shouted he, after Jean 
 had interpreted the Indian's report. " Where there's 
 no end to 'em, there's a mighty sure chance." 
 
 V Well, Louis," said Jean — the lad's name was Louis 
 Longstreet— " you shall have a try, only don't get so 
 nervous, or you won't be able to handle your gun." 
 
 Five minutes later the two young hunters were in the 
 saddle. Jean had sent his scout back with instructions 
 to stampede the big herd as soon as he and the other 
 two scouts who were waiting out among the hills could 
 get in behind it. 
 
 Jean and Louis then started, keeping to the hills 
 which skirt the valley at a distance of from one to 
 three miles from the river. This route was taken that 
 they might keep a lookout for the herd, and avoid also 
 the danger of being caught by the front of the stain- 
 
110 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 pede and forced into the river, which might occur if 
 they kept too near the bank. 
 
 It is not often that the accidents we fear happen to 
 us, but in this instance Jean's very precaution served to 
 get himself and his companion entrapped at a point 
 where escape from contact with the wide front of the 
 immense herd was impossible. 
 
 Jean and Louis had set out about the middle of the 
 forenoon, and Jean calculated that, if nothing unusual 
 should disturb the buffaloes, the Indians would get 
 them started shortly after mid-day, and thus the fore- 
 most buffalo should reach the river at about three 
 o'clock. 
 
 There were two canoes hidden among some willows 
 at the mouth of a small creek about twenty miles 
 above the post, and Jean expected, after finding the 
 buffaloes, to reach the canoes in time to paddle down 
 to some bar or island from which they could advan- 
 tageously shoot the swimming animals. He dared not 
 trust so inexperienced a hunter as Louis in a boat 
 among swimming buffaloes. 
 
 For about two hours they proceeded on their way. 
 Jean all the time watched for some sign of the big 
 herd. About noon several small bands of buffaloes 
 were sighted upon some elevations directly south of a 
 high point upon which the riders had halted to take 
 observations. These, the young trader concluded, 
 were outposts of the main herd, which he had no doubt 
 were quietly feeding upon the short, dry grass of the 
 depressed prairie which lay between his point of view 
 and the Belted Buttes, the conical tops of which could 
 be seen in the distance. 
 
 Just in front of the horsemen were some hills, higher 
 
HUNTING STOKIES. ' 111 
 
 than the one they had mounted. In order to avoid 
 climbing these, Jean, who thought that he had suf- 
 ficiently located the game, determined to travel in the 
 river valley for the rest of the distance. He pointed 
 out to Louis a willow-grown island in the river opposite 
 to where they had halted. 
 
 " "We'll ride up the valley about five miles to where 
 the canoes lie," said he, " and then paddle down to 
 that island, where we'll land and wait for 'em. It'll 
 take us an hour and a half, and by that time the big 
 herd will be moving this way with a noise like 
 thunder." 
 
 They descended into the valley and urged their 
 ponies on at a sharp gallop. Just in front of them 
 the river curved and flowed for several miles to the 
 east. 
 
 They had turned this bend and had pushed on for 
 two miles or more, the valley narrowing constantly 
 as they proceeded, when, just ahead of them, there 
 burst over the high ground, amid a cloud of dust, a 
 great rolling mass of dark objects, which covered the 
 sloping hill-sides almost instantly. 
 
 The riders came to a sudden halt/ 
 
 " The big herd ! " said Jean, hurriedly. " We'll have 
 to scatter, Louis — too bad — but down stream's the only 
 safe route for us, and we must hurry, too — some mis- 
 take — confound those rascals ! " meaning the Indian 
 hunters. 
 
 They could now hear the heavy rumble of hoofs 
 which, coming in the distance, had been lost in the 
 clatter of their horses' rapid gallop. Louis thought 
 it did, indeed, sound like the mutter of distant 
 thunder. 
 
112 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 They wheeled their ponies and struck the spurs 
 into their flanks. To their right stretched the range 
 of hills which had hidden the coming herd, and to 
 their left, a mile distant, ran the river, sweeping 
 round nearly in front of them, a few minutes' ride 
 ahead. 
 
 " Bide hard ! " shouted Jean. 
 
 They were close to the foot-hills, and the herd was 
 bearing down on them with a roar that increased like, 
 the sudden rising of the wind. 
 
 They spurred their ponies vigorously, and were get- 
 ting a good rate of speed out of the short-legged little 
 fellows, when out from a big ravine, not three hundred 
 yards ahead, there shot a great solid tongue ofbuf- 
 f aloes, and over the hill to the right swept a dense black 
 mass, filling in the gap between those behind and those 
 ahead. 
 
 Jean and Louis were trapped! hemmed in on all 
 sides but one, and on that side was the river. 
 
 Instinctively both riders veered off and made for 
 the head of the stampede, which was now rapidly 
 rolling on in front of them. The buffaloes had evi- 
 dently received a wild alarm from some source in 
 the rear, for the huge, irregular crescent, literally a 
 living, moving wall, bore down on the young hunters 
 at a fearful speed. 
 
 Less than a minute of riding toward the head of the 
 column before him convinced Jean of the impossibility 
 of overreaching and passing it. There was only one 
 thing left to do — make to the river and swim for it ; 
 and, motioning Louis to follow, he headed his pony 
 straight for the river bank. 
 
 Jean glanced back over his shoulder; the central 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 113 
 
 mass of the big stampede was about tnree hundred 
 yards behind them, nor could the small ponies, already- 
 winded with twenty miles of hard riding, increase the 
 distance. Foremost in the stampede were the biggest, 
 swiftest, bulls, their sides almost touching as, with 
 heads down, they bowled their huge, lumbering bodies 
 forward, reckless of anything ahead in their fright'at 
 what was behind them. In the rear of the bulls was a 
 confused, heaving mass, lost, at no great distance, in a 
 rising cloud of dust that seemed endless. * 
 
 Louis was badly frightened, but kept his wits and 
 followed every move of Jean's. They rode directly 
 for the river and reached its bank together; but here 
 both ponies so quickly and stubbornly halted that 
 Louis, though a good rider, was pitched clean over his 
 animal's head and alighted upon his shoulder on the 
 edge of the bank. He clutched at the top of the bank 
 with his right hand — his left arm was bruised and 
 numbed from the shock— clung for a brief instant, 
 then slid down some ten or twelve feet into the cur- 
 rent. 
 
 Jean made one more effort to force his animal over 
 the brink, but failed; then, too much alarmed for 
 Louis to wait longer, he sprang from the saddle, threw 
 away his gun and jumped after his comrade. 
 
 Louis was thrashing the water with one arm in a 
 desperate effort to swim away from the bank, but his 
 wounded arm and the weight of his clothes and heavy 
 boots impeded him, the thick muddy water dragged 
 him down, and the poor fellow would have sunk even 
 before the buffaloes were upon him had not Jean come 
 to the rescue. 
 
 Jean's ideas of what followed during the next few 
 
114 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 seconds are confused ; but he remembers that he got 
 hold of Louis, and helped to buoy him up while they 
 kicked and struggled hard against the current; that 
 they managed to get a few yards from the shore. 
 
 Then buffaloes seemed to ram down over the bank, 
 ploughing its steep sides and sousing into the water 
 with heavy splashes, making the current boil around 
 
 The next instant the desperate hunters were in the 
 midst of a puffiing, snorting mass of big, hairy swim- 
 mers, a sea of humps, horns and noses. As a big bull 
 came grunting alongside of the two young men, Jean, 
 who knew that the buffalo is inoffensive in the water, 
 made a grab with his free hand and- caught the old fel- 
 low by the long hair on his hump. 6S Now, Louis, get 
 hold here ! " he shouted , and Louis, who was recover- 
 ing the use of his arm, got hold with both hands. 
 
 "Now we're all right, 5 ' said Jean, "only keep well 
 behind so he won't turn." The bull snorted wildly at 
 the sound of the shouts, and swam frantically in the 
 effort to get free from his unwelcome freight. 
 
 Jean, still keeping fast hold of the great brute's 
 mane, drifted backward as far as he could and then 
 flopped himself over the creature's sunken hindquar 
 ters, so that it now towed one person on each side 
 Once the bull turned his head as if about to face about 5 
 but Jean promptly let go with his right hand and 
 struck him a blow on the eye, 
 
 u Don't let him turn your way Louis," said Jean. 
 M Let's keep him as straight ahead as he can go. Kick 
 hard and help all you can ; we must get across before 
 the rest of 'em if possible." 
 
 Louis readily comprehended the situation. The cool 
 
auirriNG stokhs. 115 
 
 water helped him to regain the use of his arm, in 
 which, fortunately, no bone was broken, and he worked 
 vigorously to relieve the bull of a part of the burden 
 of drawing him on behind. 
 
 The old fellow proved to be a strong swimmer, and 
 exerting himself to the utmost to get rid of his 
 hangers-on, he reached shallow water several rods in 
 advance of the nearest others of the herd. Here the 
 boys let go the bull, which lunged himself out upon a 
 projecting sand-bar and thence up the bank beyond. 
 
 Jean and Louis followed the bull to the shore, and 
 ran to some scattered cottonwoods which grew along 
 the bank. Each got behind a tree, and there stood 
 wringing his clothes and slapping his arms to warm 
 himself, while for fifteen or twenty minutes the drip- 
 ping herd lumbered past them, the swelling sea of 
 humps stretching for half a mile on either side. 
 
 An hour later Jean's hunters, who had ridden up on 
 the other side, discovered Jean and Louis, who were 
 pacing the bank as they awaited their comrades' arri- 
 val. One of the hunters went for a canoe and came 
 across after them. Then they learned that a party of 
 Aniskaras from above had stampeded the herd and had 
 hung upon its outskirts until they had killed as many 
 buffaloes as they wanted, 
 
 Since he left his saddle to plunge to the rescue of his 
 comrade, Jean has never seen nor heard of either of 
 the ponies which he and Louis rode on the day of the 
 stampede. They were undoubtedly forced into the 
 river, and either were drowned or swam to the other 
 bank and ran on with the herd. He is inclined to think 
 that they crossed safely and were picked up by some 
 
116 
 
 HOTTING STORIES. 
 
 straggling band of the Assinneboines or Orees, who 
 hunted upon that side of the river. 
 
 One of the half-breeds, after much diving, recovered 
 Louis's gun from the mud of the river, and it was found 
 to be uninjured. But Jean's gun, which he also recov 
 ered, was bent, broken and useless. 
 
XIII. 
 
 IN NICK OF TIME. 
 
 Round our camp-fire again at the West Fork after a 
 grand day of wild-goose hunting, Capt. Buck regaled 
 us with the following story of his boyhood, and old 
 times here on the Red River. 
 
 " Ah, those were pleasant days ! " said he. "You can 
 hardly appreciate the agreeable life we used to lead on 
 the Mississippi in the old days before the war. You 
 see, my old gentleman owned a large plantation and 
 many negroes on the river above Baton Rouge. We 
 spent our summers there and our winters at New 
 Orleans. There was a large family of us children — 
 ten in all — and we were educated at home. Our tutor 
 was generally some graduate from Yale or Harvard, 
 who kept us at our studies for five hours each day for 
 eight months in the year. 
 
 " We always had a vacation, however, from Christ- 
 mas until the first of February ; and then my older 
 brother, Chester, and I — we were the eldest of the six 
 boys — were allowed to do our hunting for the year, 
 and did the most of it, too, along the banks and bayous 
 of the Red River here. My whole boyhood was associ- 
 ated with this muddy, red current, that glistens so 
 brightly out there in the moonlight. 
 
 " Every winter we used to take a trip as far up as 
 Shreveport, then a little place of not as much conse- 
 quence as now. Father owned land and raised cotton 
 and horses on both sides of the Mississippi, and kept a 
 
118 HUNTING ST0EIE8. 
 
 small steam wherry for transporting stock and hands 
 back and forth. 
 
 " This wherry was usually in the charge of an old 
 negro named ' Gub,' one of father's best hands in his 
 younger days, and in the winter time, when there 
 wasn't much use for the boat, Gub was allowed to 
 accompany us on our up-river hunting trips. 
 " There was a comfortable cabin on the Gorbeau, as we 
 called the boat. The wherry was a broad, light paddle- 
 wheel, a sort of scow, barge and steamer combined; 
 and as she drew but little water, we had no trouble in 
 guiding her among the snags and over the bars, or out 
 upon the wide bayous and lagoons of the tamarack 
 swamps below Shreveport. 
 
 "We took our first trip in '53, when I was a lad oi 
 fourteen and Chet but two years older, and we kept, up 
 those excursions every winter until the war. 
 
 " It was in '56, though, that we had our most mem- 
 orable hunt. Chet and I had finished our regular 
 studies, and Willett, our tutor, a young fellow from 
 Harvard, now a noted college professor, was to leave 
 us and make room for a governess, as the girls all came 
 between us and the younger boys. We liked the fellow 
 thoroughly, and determined that he should make one 
 trip with us before he went North. 
 
 " He consented, for he liked sport and was a fair 
 shot j so after the holidays we left New Orleans for the 
 plantation, and found old Gub and the Corbeau ready 
 for our use and provisioned for eight weeks. 
 
 " For guns we had three fine rifles, an extra double- 
 barrel fowling-piece and two big English duck guns, 
 with spears and fishing tackle. Besides these, we car- 
 ried several dogs, the best of the plantation pack, for 
 
HUNTING STORIES. Hf 
 
 the bear and deer of the woods and hills above Alexan- 
 dria. 
 
 "It was to one of these dogs, a half Cuban, half fox- 
 hound, that I owed my life on that trip. Yes, old Brian 
 was, 1 think, the keenest hunter I've ever known, 
 though I've seen finer bred house-dogs that were as 
 intelligent as he. 
 
 "Point Roseau, or Roseau Point, as we called it, 
 was always our first stopping-place after leaving home. 
 It is a three-cornered peninsula, formed by the banks 
 of the Red on one side, and one of the Bayoux Des 
 Roseaux (Reed Bayou) on the other. 
 
 " These bayoux were broad strips of green water, 
 grown up with reeds, rushes and cane about the edges, 
 and full of mud bars, old logs, snags and alligators. 
 The Point, a low piece of land two or three miles in 
 extent, was a wild swamp of tamarack and red elm, 
 ^ark and tangled with vines and undergrowth. 
 
 " It's not a very inviting country, as you may sup- 
 pose, but we were obliged to * wood-up * somewhere, 
 and there were large quantities of dry elm along the 
 bank here ; and dry red elm is the best kind of fuel. 
 
 " And then, too, those bayoux were usually alive with 
 geese and ducks. The reed patches and the long flat 
 mud bars, grown over with moss and wire grass, made 
 fine feeding-grounds for these birds ; and we carried a 
 light boat for use in this kind of hunting. If more 
 stirring adventure was wanted, there were the bear and 
 panther and tiger-cat of the swamp, fierce enough to 
 satisfy any man's thirst for excitement. 
 
 " Well, we had reached this point on our trip about 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, and had tied up to the 
 
120 HUNTING STOKIES. 
 
 same tree that we always hitched to, on the Point just 
 at the mouth of the bayou. 
 
 " "Willett was anxious to get a shot at the wild geese 
 that we could hear squalling up at the first neck of the 
 bayou ; and Chet and I drew cuts to see which of us 
 should go out first with him. The lot fell to Chet, and 
 they went away, while Gub and I were left to keep 
 company with the dogs and to cut up the dry elms upon 
 the bank. 
 
 " We worked away cheerfully enough, cracking jokes 
 and telling stories — Gub's black pate was crammed 
 with both — until sundown, when the old negro dropped 
 his end of the saw with a significant gesture that meant 
 * 'nough o' dat.' 
 
 " ' Marse Pink, yo' jes' tu'n up yo' nose dis way. 
 Yeh ? ' spreading out his palm toward the northwest 
 and rolling up the whites of his eyes. ' Yo* smell 
 sumpin', yeh ? Yo' don' yah now ; ye' an' got no smell 
 no how, yo' ain't. X kin smell 'possum shoah,' rolling, 
 his eyes again. ' ' Possum not mo'n two mile up yivvuh 
 'mong de high banks ' n ' de yoke trees ; shoah be thar, 
 marse ! " 
 
 " ' All right, Gub,' said I, willing to humor the old 
 fellow with a bit of his favorite sport. * Go after 'em, 
 old man, and I'll get supper.' 
 
 " * Thankee, mars ! ' returned the grinning old black, 
 with a profound scrape and bow. ' Bring a f atun 'n' tress 
 'im foh dinnah de morreh ; ' and in no time he was on 
 board, had down the remaining duck gun, and had 
 gone among the dogs for his favorite hunter, Bug, a 
 genuine 'possum dog, if ever there was one. 
 
 " But while unleashing that cur, the old black made 
 
HUNTING ST0KIES. 121 
 
 a discovery, and came to meet me at the bow with 
 both hands up. 
 
 " 'Marse, dem dawgs Brian un Nig, dey is bofe done 
 gone. Dey is boke de lease shoah/ 
 
 " Sure enough, they had jumped over the railing at 
 the bows, and sneaked off without our seeing them. 
 
 " { That comes of tying them with ropes, Gub,' said 
 I. ' But never mind ; they've only gone after Chet and 
 Willett, and will be back with 'em. Spoil some of 
 their sport, though, quite likely.' 
 
 " 'Dat so,' replied Gub; 'yo' don' heah 'em no mo' 
 now ;' and with that Gub jumped ashore and left me, 
 
 " It was a pleasant, warm evening ; I watched the 
 twilight fade and the moon grow bright. The big 
 gloomy swamp grew blacker and gloomier ; the green, 
 dead water of the bayou changed to a slaty gray ; and 
 the snags and logs just outside the line of reeds looked 
 like the ghosts of snags and logs in the shadows of the 
 tall trees. 
 
 " I sat there and sat there, I don't know how long, 
 only that I had begun to feel surprised that the boys 
 did not come in, and that I heard nothing of them. 
 
 " Suddenly there broke on the wind that was blow- 
 ing gently from the west, a long, deep howl, like the 
 blowing of an immense brass horn. 
 
 "I knew that voice. It was Brian's, and by it I 
 judged that the dog was not "a half mile away. It 
 meant game, and big game, too; for Brian would never 
 lay himself out like that for anything smaller than a 
 bear or a ' painter.' 
 
 " I listened a minute, excited, I assure you, and then 
 Brian broke out with his fog-horn bay again, and Kig 
 rung in with a chorus. I waited only long enough to 
 
122 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 locate the sound over my side of the bayou, then I 
 rushed into the cabin, snatched down a rifle and bullet- 
 pouch, and bounded off the boat upon the point. 
 
 " I had no doubt that the dogs had treed a bear, and 
 of course I was eager to outdo the boys, who might be 
 nearer the hounds than I was. I knew they could not 
 be very near, for Brian would only have exercised his 
 lungs in that powerful style to bring somebody from a 
 distance. 
 
 " Well, away I went, crashing through brush, briars 
 and brake like a mad fellow, till in about a quarter of a 
 mile I came to an arm of the bayou that stretched out 
 as far as I could see into the thick woods. 
 
 " It wasn't very wide, and the water only stood in 
 little pools ; but I knew better than to venture upon the 
 slimy surface of that black, oozy mud. It was as mach 
 as life was worth, and more dangerous than the deep- 
 est, snaggiest part of the main branch. 
 
 " So I turned and pushed my way up the bank in the 
 hope of finding a crossing, or the end. All this time 
 the loud baying of the hounds was stimulating my 
 ears. Scrambling on, I presently came to an old dry 
 elm, leaning out over the mud, its top resting on 
 several stout limbs, driven, in its fall, into the bank, on 
 the other side. It was a safe and easy crossing, but I 
 had lost my wits and my breath in my excited running, 
 and I rushed out upon it without a bit of caution, 
 trusting to the sureness of my legs. 
 
 "About midway, the rotton bark cleaved off under 
 my feet, and I went over and down like a plummet 
 into the mud and slime. So quickly did I fall, that I 
 did not touch the log with my hands, yet I alighted on 
 
HUNTING STOEIE8. 123 
 
 my feet ! alighted on them and went up to my thighs 
 in a thick mud pudding at the very first plunge. 
 
 " Soared ! I reckon I was. I tried to jerk my legs 
 out, but I couldn't move them. There I stuck tight. 
 
 " I held my breath a minute and kept quiet. Yes, 1 
 was sinking ! I could feel the downward movement, 
 slow, but sure. 
 
 " Then I screamed for help. As scared a lot of yells, 
 I reckon, as ever came from a human throat. When 
 their echoes died away I listened. The dogs had 
 stopped howling ; there was no other answer. 
 
 " The bank opposite was hardly twenty feet away, 
 so near had I come to crossing, but there was nothing 
 within reach that I could lay hold of. I held to the 
 rifle, and laid that along the top of the mud and bore 
 some of my weight on it with my hands ; but notwith- 
 standing this, I was slowly sinking. I screamed again, 
 at the top of my lungs. 
 
 " I tell you, gentlemen, it's a horrible feeling, that 
 slow settling down into a frightful bog that's sure to 
 be your grave, if help is not secured. I wish I could 
 tell you half the thoughts and sensations I had while 
 settling into the bottomless depths of that slimy mire. 
 But I couldn't do it ; I won't try. 
 
 " I screeched again, like a madman, and then I sud- 
 denly heard a crackling in the brake and the tramp of 
 some animal that proved, almost as quick as I heard it, 
 to be Brian. 
 
 " The big hound broke from the cane-brake close at 
 hand, and came bouncing upon the low bank in front of 
 me, where he halted with an anxious whine, and a 
 pricking up of his ears, as much as to say : 
 
 " ' "Well, you're in a fine mess, aren't ye?" 
 
m 
 
 HUNTING ST0B1ES. 
 
 'Can't you bring me that long limb, there? "—Page 135. 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 125 
 
 "'Brian, old fellow/ said I, ' I'm gone up, sure.' I 
 should have said ' gone down,' but that was no time to 
 make a choice of words. ' Can't you bring me that long 
 limb, there on the bank, old boy ? ' I asked, pointing 
 to a broken branch of elm that lay by him. 
 
 " Now, I believe I asked that just to make believe 
 he was human and could understand, and that I was 
 going to get help ; but the hound looked at the stick, 
 then at me again curiously, and whined pitifully. 
 
 " I repeated the words and then pointing several 
 times and — will you believe it ? Whether you do or 
 not, it is true — that dog stepped back, grabbed that 
 pole near the middle, balanced it an instant, then made 
 one mighty leap off the bank toward me. Yes ; and 
 before he had sunk too deep for his strength, he made 
 another plunge and reached me with the branch. 
 
 " It was a pole, big as my arm in the middle, and 
 several feet in length. There were some smaller limbs 
 branching out of it ; and only a powerful hound, like 
 Brian, could have lifted and jumped with it. 
 
 " As you may reckon, I seized that stick in a hurry, 
 got it crosswise in front of me, laid the gun crosswise 
 of that, and then leaned over, bearing all the weight I 
 could upon them. That eased up the settling business, 
 for a time, and I kept myself buoyed up by the gradual 
 sinking of the limb, which, owing to its surface and 
 branches, went down slowly. - 
 
 " As for Brian, he had wheeled about and splashed 
 out of the mud at a fine rate, spattering me all over 
 with the batter that ilew from his feet. Then that 
 noble old brute got up on the bank and set up such a 
 Id-yi-ing as I never heard before, or since. I tried to 
 make him understand that I wanted another stick \ but 
 
126 HUNTING STOKIES. 
 
 he either thought he had done enough in that line, or 
 didn't propose to trust his legs in the mire again ; for 
 he only howled the louder. 
 
 "After a while Nig came and joined in with his 
 howls ; and altogether, with my halloos, we must have 
 made the woods hideous. 
 
 " Bless those dogs ! they knew I was in a predicament, 
 as well as human beings could have known. Brian 
 had started at the first frightened yell which he heard 
 from me ; and at last K"ig had left the — we never knew 
 what 'twas — and came too. 
 
 " I was still in a dangerous condition, settling a little 
 m spite of the pole, and was beginning to despair of 
 ever getting more help. As much as an hour had 
 passed, when a cracking of cane begun to be heard and 
 I knew that somebody was coming. The dogs stopped 
 yelping and whined ; then old Gub came in sight in 
 the moonlight on the opposite bank. Nothing but 
 calamity could have brought him in from a 'possum- 
 hunt before midnight. 
 
 " * Wha 5 wha's de mattuh, V wha' is yo', mass'r ? ' 
 he called out. 
 
 " * Here/ said I, ' in the mud. Gross over on that 
 tree and help me out. I'm sinking and half -froze in the 
 cold slime. Careful, now, or you'll be in too? ' 
 
 "'Lawd ob musseh, Marse Pink ! how'd yo' go 'n' 
 git in dah f Yo' poah chile, peah's like yo deffui mis- 
 fa wtnit ! ' 
 
 " But without waiting for a reply the old negro 
 stepped out on the log and hurried across. To make a 
 long story short, the old fellow was mighty handy at 
 whatever he undertook, fell at work like a beaver and 
 soon had a bridge of dry logs and sticks built over the 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 127 
 
 muddy hole and a staging of wood laid all about 
 me. Then by digging and wrenching, twisting and 
 working we accomplished the feat of unearthing my 
 legs and bringing me safe to dry land. 
 
 "I went back to the corbeau with old Gub, almost 
 prostrated from the reaction from my fright, and in a 
 sorry enough plight. But a change of clothes, a wash, 
 a good fire and hot coffee soon set me to rights again. 
 
 " As for Willett and Chet, they had got lost in the . 
 bayou and didn't find their way in till after midnight. 
 
 " That dog Brian was surely the most knowing hunter 
 I ever saw. Dogs of that breed usually are fit for 
 trailing and do not know much else ; but you could 
 teach Brian anything. He was only two years and a 
 half old when that thing happened. We kept him for 
 eight years after that, and I could tell of a hundred 
 instances where he proved himself just as intelligent as 
 when he saved me from a muddy grave ; for I certainly 
 should have gone down but for him." 
 
XIV. 
 
 CHAS1D. 
 
 Duck-hunting is not usually considered a dangerous 
 sport, provided one is careful and knows how to handle 
 a gun ; but at least one duck-hunt of my boyhood came 
 near causing my death. 
 
 My parents, with several other families, were at that 
 time living upon the extreme frontier of western Iowa, 
 in a little settlement not yet laid down on the maps. 
 
 The country for miles around us, with the exception 
 of small groves of timber which skirted the nearest 
 stream, was an open prairie, covered with thick, coarse 
 grass, which even on the very highest and dryest ridges 
 would reach to a man's knee. 
 
 Until the region became thickly settled, prairie fires 
 raged with each recurring autumn; and when there 
 were high winds the flames sometimes reached across 
 the country with the speed of an antelope. 
 
 The only protection we had from these fires was the 
 cultivated fields that surrounded the houses ; and even 
 about these a wide strip had to be freshly ploughed 
 each fall before the grass dried, for the fire-fiend, when 
 once started, with a dry wind to urge it on, would run 
 accross the stubble and the ripe corn-fields with scarcely 
 retarded velocity. 
 
 Wild game, of many varieties, was then very abun- 
 dant thereabouts ; and during the second autumn after 
 our arrival, geese and ducks were so plentiful that 
 nearly every man and every boy large enough to carry 
 a gun spent his whole time during the month of October 
 
 128 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 129 
 
 in hunting these birds, for their feathers were needed 
 for beds and pillows, and could always be sold for 
 cash when there were any to spare. 
 
 The nearest railroad station was eighty miles away, 
 but when our geese feathers were delivered there they 
 could be sold for one dollar a pound. Furthermore, 
 the breasts of these birds, sliced clean from the bones 
 and dried, furnished excellent meat for months to 
 come, and they also could be sold for a good price at 
 the station. 
 
 There were three boys in the settlement — Mort Hal- 
 leck, Pierre Lanfrey, the son of a French Canadian 
 whose place joined my father's, and I. 
 
 One bright morning about the last of October, we 
 set out together for a trip up the river. It was a calm 
 day, and not a very good time to shoot wild geese and 
 ducks had they been less plentiful than they were that 
 season. 
 
 Early in the day we had noticed that the horizon 
 away up the river to the northwest had a hazy, smoky 
 appearance. 
 
 " I'll bet there's a big old fire over on the Sioux," 
 said Mort, as we trudged along. 
 
 " 'Twon't hurt us any," said Pierre ; " 'cause there's 
 hardly any wind blowing, and what little there is 
 comes from the south." 
 
 So we felt no uneasiness, except that we feared the 
 fire might later on sweep over our region when the 
 wind changed, and thus put an end to our hunting. 
 For where the prairie is burned black and the wild rice 
 and seeds are consumed about the edges of the sloughs 
 and streams, water-fowl soon take leave for better 
 feeding grounds. 
 
130 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 We had good luck during that forenoon, shooting three 
 wild geese and thirteen large mallard ducks. And after 
 eating our dinner in a small grove, we decided to hang 
 up our game on the branches of a scrub-oak, and push 
 on two or three miles further, to a large slough which 
 we knew to be frequented by water- fowl of all kinds. 
 Even if we should shoot more than we could carry 
 home, the weather was cool, and the game would keep, 
 and we could bring a horse the next day to carry them 
 home, as we had often done before. 
 
 Pierre made a scare-crow of his coat, which had 
 become a burden to him, as he wore it over a hunting- 
 jacket, and placed it in the branches of the tree, to 
 frighten away eagles and hawks. 
 
 We soon traversed the distance to the slough, and 
 found it, as we had hoped, alive with geese and ducks. 
 Quite a breeze had sprung up from the south, and the 
 birds were constantly flying in at one end and out at 
 the other. 
 
 Mort and I stationed ourselves in the tall grass at the 
 south end and Pierre we&t round to the northern quar- 
 ter. We were soon blazing away as fast as we could 
 load, taking the birds on the wing as they passed over 
 our heads. 
 
 The foolish birds circled about, loath to leave the 
 rich rice-patches which la^ along the edges of the 
 slough. Some, indeed, would take fright and bear off 
 for other haunts, but others were constantly coming 
 towards us, and our guns soon became heated from 
 rapid firing. 
 
 Toward night the wind suddenly veered round to 
 the northwest asd blew a gale— not an infrequent 
 occurrence in this country, after a calm autumn or 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 131 
 
 spring morning. We had forgotten all about the fire, 
 —about everything, in fact, but our all-absorbing sport. 
 
 Mort and myself had gathered around us a stack of 
 game, more than we had ever bagged before at one 
 time. Pierre's gun had also been busy ; and we were 
 loading up for our farewell shots, just after sunset, 
 when Mort suddenly sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Look up yonder, Frank ! Goodness, we must get out 
 of this ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 A glance to the northward disclosed the cause of his 
 alarm. A great cloud of smoke stretched across the 
 horizon and seemed rolling down upon us like a thun- 
 der gust. At the same time a dull but ominous roar 
 was audible ; and we noticed that cinders, borne by the 
 strong wind, were flitting by. Pierre had taken alarm 
 also, and now came bounding through the grass toward 
 ns. 
 
 How suddenly it had all come on I The air overhead 
 was even now clouded with smoke; and it began rap- 
 idly to grow dark. For a moment we stood, hardly 
 knowing which way to turn. 
 
 "Fling yer game inter the water," shouted Pierre, 
 as he neared us. "'The fire won't burn it there. We've 
 got to make for the river lively." 
 
 Mort and I at once began pitching geese and ducks 
 into the water. 
 
 " Don't you s*pose we can run into the slough and 
 stand it % " I queried. 
 
 " Wo ! n said Pierre. " We've got to get behind the 
 river-bank. Don't ye see the fire will leap across 
 through them reeds and rushes? We'd be roasted. The 
 sinoke'd smother us ! Jerk off yer boots an' fling 'em 
 fc&r the water, and hurry ! " he cried. 
 
132 HUNTING STOBIM. 
 
 He was barefooted himself, and we quickly followed 
 his advice. Pierre had been brought up on the frontier 
 prairies, and we always found it safe to follow his 
 lead. 
 
 " It's a mile to the river," said he, " an* the fire ain't 
 more'n two miles away. / Eeady now ! Skedaddle ! 
 But hang to yer guns if you can." 
 
 So accustomed were we to the weight of our musket- 
 guns, that we ran almost equally well with them in 
 our hands. Away we sped. But the smoke was driv- 
 ing over us and filled our heaving lungs at each quick 
 breath with a smarting, suffocating sensation. To the 
 west and far up overhead a wild, angry glare was 
 mounting — alternately glowing and darkening in the 
 twilight. 
 
 The roar grew louder. 
 
 "Hurry! Hurry! ou noo song perdu!" gasped 
 Pierre. " The fire's on both sides the river." ' 
 
 Hurry we did. But the awful roar in our rear grew 
 in volume each instant. An occasional shift of the 
 wind wheeling aside the clouds of smoke disclosed a 
 long, unbroken line of red " leapers " rushing on with 
 the speed of wild buffaloes. 
 
 It was indeed a race for life. Every moment it grew 
 hotter. The tall, dry grass that fed the flames served 
 but to tangle and trip our feet. 
 
 "Kun! Leg it!" shrieked Pierre. "We haven't a 
 second to spare." 
 
 The dense smoke hid everything, but we knew we 
 were nearing the stream, from the small patches of wil- 
 low which we began to pass through. The crackle of 
 the fire was now getting terribly loud. The heat 
 became almost too intense to bear. Sweat ran down 
 
mtNTINO STORIES. 138 
 
 our limbs, while our faces felt scorched. There seemed 
 to be not a breath of air. -^ 
 
 " Oh, I'm smothering," gasped Mort. 
 
 "No, yer haint!" yelled Pierre. "Keep after me, 
 
 boys, 02* we'll " He never finished that sentence, 
 
 for at that instant all three of us went headlong over 
 the river-bank— twenty or thirty feet — down to the 
 water's edge. Mort indeed fell into the water, gun 
 and all, and we hauled him out, sputtering. 
 
 " Dis way," cried Pierre. "Don't stop here." And 
 we hurried along the edge of the steep bank down to 
 where the bluff was higher and more abrupt, and 
 almost jutted out into the water into which we waded 
 waist deep. 
 
 "Bong!" ejaculated our leader. "Now off with 
 your hats and souse 'em in the water, then clap 'em 
 over your faces and keep under the bank." 
 
 "We had barely time to do it, when, with a tremen- 
 dous crackling and roaring and a hissing, seething 
 noise, accompanied by a sensation of choking and of 
 fierce, smarting heat about our heads and shoulders, 
 the fiery hurricane swept over the bank above us. 
 
 For a few moments the air seemed full of flame — 
 long tongues shooting out and playing over the river 
 as if to reach to the farther bank. Then, as when a 
 bubble bursts, it all went out at once. 
 
 A cool draft of air rushed in. The blaze had passed. 
 Nothing but smoke was left behind, with here and 
 there a bit of burning twig. 
 
 "'Twas a hard scratch for usl" exclaimed Pierre, 
 who in moments of excitement was apt to mingle Can- 
 adian French and backwoods English in about equal 
 
134: HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 measure. " Sapriste ! But I think we perdu sure one 
 spell." 
 
 It was such a narrow escape as comes to few in the 
 whole course of a lifetime. 
 
 After an hour or so we were able to cross the burnt 
 prairie, and during the evening made our way home, 
 where we found there had been no little anxiety con- 
 cerning us, the flames having been plainly seen sweep- 
 ing along to the northwest of the settlement. 
 
 Next day we recovered a part of our geese and 
 ducks from out of the slough ; but Pierre's coat and the 
 birds we had hung up in the oak had been burned to 
 cinders. 
 
4 BAN01B0U8 RESEMBLANCE. 
 
 A resemblance between two persons so strong asfb 
 give rise to a prolonged case of mistaken identity is 
 rarely met with outside the pages of fiction. Of his 
 own personal knowledge the writer can speak of one 
 instance where, for a short time, such a resemblance 
 seemed to baffle the inquisitive eyes of old acquaintances. 
 
 It happened not long ago to a friend of mine, a civil 
 engineer in the employment of a great railway com- 
 pany, to be most awkwardly mistaken for a fugitive 
 from the primitive justice of a mountain district in 
 Arkansas, His adventure was exciting and full of dan- 
 ger, and seems worth relating. 
 
 Conrad Hurling, though a young man, is one of the 
 most efficient engineers in the employ of the M. R. & 
 P. Eailway Company. He belongs to the " Locating 
 Corps," and his work is in "preliminary" and "locat- 
 ing surveys." Last winter he was sent alone upon an 
 important mission which required a journey through 
 the State of Arkansas, a journey not by rail in a Pull- 
 man sleeper, but on horseback over three hundred miles 
 of mountainous and swampy country, much of it little 
 better than a wilderness. 
 
 The Missouri, Rio Grande & Pacific directors, jeal- 
 ous of a competing line which was building an extension 
 pointing in that direction, determined to forestall it in 
 occupying Arkansas territory, and Hurling was sent 
 oul to look over the ground in advance of a preliminary 
 survey. In fact, he was to make a sort of " prelimi- 
 
136 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 nary" by the aid of his eyes, his powers of gathering 
 information from inhabitants, a sectional map of the 
 State, and certain charts which he carried upon which 
 to trace the route and all prominent landmarks and 
 water-courses. 
 
 It was about the first of December that he set out 
 from the mountain village of Ozo, where he had pur- 
 chased a horse and saddle for the journey. He had 
 attired himself in a rough corduroy suit, a broad- 
 brimmed white hat, a pair of high-topped hunting boots. 
 He carried a revolver in a pocket of his saddle-bags, 
 which also contained his maps and papers, with room 
 for a noon lunch. 
 
 The first day's travel led him into a wild and pic- 
 turesque region of the Ozarks, a rough country of 
 rocky peaks and ridges of deep ravines and yawning 
 gulches, the home of not a few suspicious moonshiners, 
 and, if report were trustworthy, of some other charac- 
 ters still more unpleasant to meet. 
 
 However, the young engineer was well on his guard, 
 he knew the characteristics of the inhabitants generally, 
 and was usually possessed of the lucky faculty of mak- 
 ing himself " at home with everybody;" in other words, 
 of winning the stranger's confidence. 
 
 The weather was fine, and for several days the 
 traveler found his leisurely journey pleasant and full of 
 interest. The few inhabitants with whom he met and 
 conversed on the road, or at occasional cabins where 
 he put up for the night or stopped for a meal, seemed 
 well disposed, and generally gave him such informa- 
 tion as they had about the route he proposed to take. 
 
 Some of the more intelligent of them were very 
 hospitable upon learning his errand, and evinced 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 137 
 
 much enthusiasm at the prospect of a " shore 'nough 
 railroad " and " cyars " running past their very doors. 
 
 " I knowed I'd see a engine a-humpin' up this valley 
 some o' these yere days," said one shrewd old farmer, 
 " an that is jus' the reason why I tuck 'n ' sot myself 
 en my f am'ly down on this yere piece o' Ian' w'at I got 
 pa'chelly fenced, en ben a livin' on hit ever sence the 
 wan. Hit air boun' ter be a valleyble piece o' prop'ty, 
 hit air. 
 
 Conrad passed an enjoyable evening at the old man's 
 cabin, where a large family of overgrown youths of 
 both sexes sat with them about the fire-place conversing, 
 after the first shyness had worn off, in their uncouth, 
 roundabout dialect. 
 
 For several days he pursued the route marked out 
 for him through the valleys of deep water-courses, 
 through mountain passes and over plateaus, or 
 " bench lands," and without adventure of an unpleas- 
 ant sort. Occasionally he met with surly or suspi- 
 cious mountaineers, who eyed him askant, and spoke to 
 him guardedly or not at all. 
 
 But on the sixth morning, at a creek " crossing," he 
 met upon the bank of the stream a lank, leather-faced 
 man, in coon-skin cap and leather leggins, bearing a 
 long rifle upon his shoulder, with a half-dozen or more 
 squirrels strung upon the barrel, and the lean hunter 
 stood, as he rode up, gaping at him in undisguised 
 amazement. 
 
 Somewhat surprised at the hunter's stare, in which 
 there seemed such extraordinary interest, Hurling drew 
 rein and saluted the gazer. 
 
 " How d'ye do ? " said he, pleasantly. 
 
 "Tol'ble," answered the hunter, with an unpleasant 
 
138 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 grin. " How air you-uns ? " and Conrad noted a look 
 of cunning upon the leathery face. 
 
 " Well," said the engineer, " I'm getting on all right, 
 but I'll be much obliged to you if you'll put me on the 
 right trail on the other side of the creek there. I see 
 the road forks, and I want to go through Horrigan's 
 Gap." 
 
 The hunter's grin became enormous as Oon finished. 
 
 "Waal, Dave," said he, drawlingly, "I al'ays 
 knowed ye were right peart in yer makin's-up, but ye 
 cain't projeck ole Jake outen the youst uv 'is eyes. I 
 reckon ye done knowed which road air the best fer ye 
 ter take afore ye corned nigh hyar." 
 
 " So you take me for somebody who's been here 
 before, eh?" said Hurling- "Well, my good man, 
 you're off in the matter of eyesight for once in your 
 life. I've never been here before, and am very certain 
 I never saw your face." 
 
 The old man grunted half-angrily : " Don't ye be 
 lettin' on ter be a plumb fool, Dave ! Ye nachelly 
 cain't 'possum noways with me. I done knowed ye 
 comin' away up the rise yander." 
 
 This was rather exasperating, but the stranger bore 
 it with outward patience, at least, and again denying 
 his identity with that of " Dave," whoever the individ- 
 ual might be, he dismounted, opened his saddle-bags, 
 took out his maps and explained the purpose of „his 
 errand through the country. 
 
 The old man looked and listened, still incredulous. 
 
 " Ye don't talk exactly like Dave, en ye hev riz a 
 baard," was the only admission the engineer could get 
 out of him. He refused, in fact, to talk, evidently 
 believing that " Dave " was trying to play a trick on 
 
HUN'fiCN'G STORIES. 
 
 139 
 
 him, and after pointing out — rather reluctantly— the 
 road to Kerrigan's Gap, the old hunter started off, 
 shaking his head. 
 Hurling was not a little disturbed by this incident. 
 
 1 &o old man looked and listened, still Incredulous. —Page 138. 
 
 for he did not know what unpleasant consequences 
 might arise if other mountaineers, acquainted with the 
 mysterious " Dave/' should also mistake him for this 
 person, who, he doubted not from the old hunter's 
 manner, had left the region in bad odor with some of 
 
140 HUNTING STOKIES. 
 
 its inhabitants. How well founded this surmise and his 
 fears were, he discovered soon enough. 
 
 The road to Horrigan's Gap led along the bank of a 
 deep run, with here and there a dark pool of water 
 lying in a depression of the bed. At some distance 
 from the ford, while taking observations along the 
 road, he met two mountaineers on horseback, and 
 almost held his breath as they rode down toward him ; 
 but though they gave him curious and not very friendly 
 looks, and responded rather surlily to his salutation, they 
 evidently did not recognize in him a likeness to any 
 one they had known, and this fact gave him no little 
 relief as they rode past. He began now to fancy that 
 perhaps the old hunter might not be quite right in his 
 mind. 
 
 A little farther on, however, this illusion was dis- 
 pelled. At a turn of the road a boy had ridden one 
 horse and led another to water at one of the pools at 
 the bottom of the run. Conrad rode to the edge of the 
 bank, and called to the lad, who was leaning lazily over 
 his horse's wether while the animal drank. 
 
 The young fellow looked up with interest and sur- 
 prise at being thus accosted unawares ; he looked, then 
 stared,. as the hunter had, in open-mouthed amazement, 
 then shouted, " Dave Kennedy /" and giving his horse's 
 halter a jerk and letting go the other, turned his riding 
 animal about and fled at a gallop, digging his heels into 
 its ribs and flopping his elbows in the wildest excite- 
 ment. 
 
 Here was more mystery, and keen cause, also, for 
 alarm. 
 
 His likeness to " Dave " could no longer be doubted, 
 and as to the reputation of this individual, he con' 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 141 
 
 eluded it must be that of a desperate character of 
 some sort. The old hunter had been surprised and 
 suspicious, and the boy was evidently frightened half 
 out of his wits. The engineer rode on with many 
 misgivings, and yet he was not prepared for what fol- ' 
 lowed. 
 
 He had ridden rather more tnan a mile from the 
 spot where the boy had been encountered, and was 
 going slowly for the purpose of careful observation, 
 when he heard a distant but fierce and rattling clatter 
 of horses' hoofs. 
 
 They were behind him, horsemen, who had evidently 
 just struck the road. 
 
 Hurling's fears of trouble were instantly confirmed ; 
 he felt an immediate conviction that the riders whose 
 horses' feet clattered louder with each passing second 
 were after him, and that the boy at the pool had given 
 the alarm. He halted, got off his horse, took his 
 revolver from the saddle-bags and stuck it in his coat- 
 pocket, then waited, calmly as he could, their coming, 
 determined to have the matter of his identity estab- 
 lished if possible; at any rate, to put on a bold face and 
 stand his ground. 
 
 He had reached very nearly the head of the run, and 
 before him stretched a wide, gently inclining valley 
 which he knew from previous description to be Horri- 
 gan's Gap. There were high mountains on either hand 
 and much timber on their sides. The valley was bare 
 of woods and some of it cultivated; he could dis- 
 tinguish several cabins and small fields from where he 
 stood, and grouped against the clear blue horizon at 
 the highest elevation of the gap, several miles distant, 
 
142 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 were some buildings which no doubt made up the vil- 
 lage of Horrigan. 
 
 Nearer and nearer rattled the riders and soon they 
 burst into view around a point several hundred yards 
 below. 
 
 There were five of them, and upon coming within 
 sight of him they reined up and came to a halt ; they 
 sat gazing at him for a moment, and then seemed to 
 be holding a consultation. 
 
 Hurling waited uneasily. Were they afraid of him, 
 he wondered, and had they started out with the intention 
 to capture or to kill him ? Surely, he thought, they 
 would give him a chance to prove himself — if only they 
 would come within speaking distance. 
 
 But while he was thus questioning within himself 
 one of the men dismounted, and Conrad saw that he 
 had a gun in his hands. 
 
 The fellow stepped out a few paces to one side, and 
 deliberately took aim at him. At this alarming demon- 
 stration the engineer sprang behind his horse ; as he did 
 80 the mountaineer's gun cracked ; the ball struck the 
 road, falling several rods short of the horse, at which it 
 was probably fired ; it glanced upward and went yeun- 
 yeumng, above the man's head. 
 
 He waited no longer, but sprang upon his horse and 
 sank his spurs in its flanks, determined to lead them a 
 race to the village, where he hoped to find shelter, or at 
 least protection, until he could satisfy the people as to 
 his identity. 
 
 That the party after him was in dead earnest was 
 plain enough, and that an attempt to parley with them 
 would only bring the peril nearer he felt assured— 
 
HUNTING STOKIES. 143 
 
 therefore he plied spur and whip, using an end of the 
 long halter-strap as a quirt. 
 
 Hearing no more shots fired, he looked back to see 
 what his pursuers were doing. They were after him 
 fast enough, riding in single file at the top of their 
 animals, speed, with a trail of flying dust in their wake. 
 
 The poor fellow felt that his case was indeed desper- 
 ate; his unlucky likeness to "Dave Kennedy" was 
 likely to bring him to peril in front, as it had upon the 
 road behind. 
 
 His horse, fortunately, was a fine roadster, and had 
 both speed and wind, and after a mile or so Conrad 
 noted with delight that he was drawing gradually away 
 evenirom the foremost of his pursuers, and that this 
 one was several hundred yards in advance of the rest. 
 
 If only they were all mounted on such old farm- 
 horses as he had seen at the pool, he thought it would 
 be an easy matter to get away from them. 
 
 He neared a small cabin by the road and several 
 ragged children scuttled in at the door in a great 
 fright as he shot by. A little farther on, a small corn- 
 field lay beside the road, and three men, who, with a 
 single horse and cart, had started shucking among the 
 first rows, turned and gazed at him as he flew past. 
 
 He wondered if they wouldn't get into the cart and 
 take after him. They did not ; but farther on another 
 cabin stood on a slight elevation near the road, and as 
 he neared it Hurling saw a man at one corner shading 
 his eyes and evidently watching both pursued and pur- 
 suers. 
 
 As he came clattering up nearly abreast of the cabin 
 the man gave an excited jump, slapped his leg with one 
 
144 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 hand, and then, dodging around the corner, darted in 
 at the cabin-door. 
 
 The fleeing man went by like the wind, but looked 
 back, expecting to see the fellow come out with a gun. 
 He was not disappointed ; out the man came and fired 
 two shots in quick succession after him. A double- 
 barreled shot-gun was evidently the weapon used, for 
 the rider, was already out of range and saw several 
 shots strike along the road behind him, each of which 
 knocked up a little spurt of dust as it "hit. 
 
 Truly Dave's enemies were numerous ! 
 
 The engineer rode directly along the rode toward the 
 village which he was now rapidly nearing. His horse 
 had done well, still kept its wind and steadily gained on 
 those behind. 
 
 Luckily there was no one at home, or at least in 
 sight, at the two or three cabins which he had still to 
 pass before entering the village, and he rode unan- 
 nounced up to the very door of a log store which also 
 had a sign "Post-Office" printed upon a board and 
 nailed to one of the logs. 
 
 Hastily hitching his horse to a post he entered the 
 door, a plan of action having occurred to him while 
 riding for his life. 
 
 A group of half a dozen men had already gathered, 
 seated upon and leaning against the counters of the 
 country store. 
 
 "Gentlemen," burst out Hurling, "some men are 
 after me on horses and with guns determined to take 
 my life because they fancy I look like Dave some- 
 body—" 
 
 " Kennedy •, true's you live ! " put in one of them ; 
 "that's what ye does, mighty like him." 
 
HUNTING STORIES. 145 
 
 " That's so," said several others, who got down off 
 the counters in the stir which followed to get a good 
 look at the stranger. 
 
 " Well," said Conrad, hurriedly, " whoever Dave 
 Kennedy may be and whatever he has done I am not 
 he, and if there is any one in the store who can get 
 me a razor, a piece of soap and some water I can very 
 quickly prove what I say." 
 
 " Mebby ye ken, but I'd swar 't ye war Dave," said 
 the first speaker of the crowd. " It's no more'n fa'r, 
 though, thet ye should heve a squar' deal. Boys, is they 
 ary razor round hyar 't the feller ken use ? " 
 
 « I've got one," said a young, smooth-faced fellow 
 who was evidently clerk in the store. " Come back this 
 way, stranger." 
 
 Hurling stepped to the back end of the store, was 
 given a razor, a gourd with brush, water and soap and 
 shown a broken mirror which hung beside a small back 
 window. 
 
 A curious silence reigned in the room while he hastily 
 made preparations to remove a luxuriant growth of 
 beard. 
 
 Soon a clatter of hoofs announced the approach of 
 the horsemen in pursuit. 
 
 " Hyar they come," said one of the men ; " it's them 
 Kirby boys jes' es I 'lowed 'twar. I'll go out, boys, 
 'n' tell 'em how hit air. O' course they air nachelly 
 boun' ter give the man a show." 
 
 And he went out followed by two or three more. 
 While Con was industriously scraping away he heard 
 them in earnest conversation with the fellows who had 
 just ridden up. Presently they all came tramping into 
 the store. 
 
146 HUNTING STORIES. 
 
 Then for several minutes there was an ominous 
 silence. 
 
 Conrad finished shaving, wiped his face on an old 
 towel which hung on the wall and then *' faced the 
 enemy. " 
 
 There were a dozen slouching fellows in the room 
 now, and nearly all armed with rifle or revolver. 
 
 They stared hard at his face, which had, indeed, 
 undergone a striking change. Pale and hollow-cheeked 
 he awaited their decision,, 
 
 " Sho ! " exclaimed one of the nearest, " he don't look 
 ary bit more like Dave Kennedy nor I do. Hit didn't 
 seem ter me like Dave 'd git ©udashus 'nough ter^come 
 projeckin roun' hyar agin." 
 
 "'Tain't Dave," was the flat admission of all of 
 them, and the men who had . followed him so hotly 
 looked crestfallen enough. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, if you've no further business with 
 me I'll ride on," said Hurling. "Much obliged for the 
 use of your razor, young man," and nodding to the 
 clerk he walked out while the crowd rather shame- 
 facedly made way for him. 
 
 "I didn't care to inquire who Dave was or what he 
 had done," said my friend. "I had had quite enough 
 of those fellows and I wanted them to know it." 
 
 He received generous hospitality from most of the 
 people whom he met on the long journey which fol- 
 lowed, and though he had many other adventures, he 
 was never in so much peril as on this occasion, when, 
 as ho puts it, he " was saved by losing his beard." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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