152CHAPTER XX.Ewere out at daylight the next morning and hunted all day with fair success. Johnston and Billy jumped a bunch of five mule-deer, a buck, two does, and two fawns. Johnston fired fourteen shots at them before they got out of the country, and killed the two does. In speaking of it afterward Billy said he was just taking a good aim at the old buck's eye when Johnston's gun cracked the first time, and of course the buck ran, so he did not get a shot."But why didn't you shoot at him running?" I inquired."Because I can't hit a jumpin' deer," he replied, frankly, "and I hate like thunder to miss."I spent the day about a mile from camp on top of Blue Grouse Mountain, a prominent landmark of the country. A heavy fog hung about the mountain and over the surrounding country until about three o'clock in the afternoon, when it lifted and disclosed a view of surpassing loveliness. Away to the west and southwest there was a level tract of swampy, heavily timbered country about thirty miles long and ten miles wide. I looked down on the tops of the trees composing this vast forest, and they appeared at this distance not unlike a vast field of half-grown green grain. Beyond this tract to thewest a chain of hills wound in serpentine curves from north to south, their parks and bits of prairie gleaming in the sun like well-made farms. To the north lay Loon Lake nestling among the pine-clad hills, its placid bosom sparkling in the setting sun like a sheet of silver. Farther to the north and northeast were two other lakes of equal size and beauty, while far distant in the east were several large bodies of prairie separated by strips of pine and fir. I longed for my camera, but on account of the unfavorable outlook of the morning, I had not brought the instrument.154ONE OF JOHNSTON'S PRIZES.The following morning promised no better, for the fog hung like a pall over the whole country; but I took the little detective with me, hoping the mist would lift as before; in this, however, I was disappointed. I staid on the mountain from early morning till half-past three, and there being then no prospect of a change went down. Just as I reached the base I saw a rift in the clouds, and supposing the long-wished change in the weather was about to take place, I turned and began the weary climb, but again the fog settled down, and I was at last compelled to return to camp without the coveted views. I made several exposures during the day on crooked, deformed, wind-twisted trees on the top of the mountain, which, strange to say, came out good. The fog was so dense at the time that one could not see fifty yards. I used a small stop and gave each plate from five to twenty seconds, and found, when developed, that none of them were over exposed, while those given the shorter time were under exposed. That day's hunting resulted in three moredeer, and as we then had all the meat our team could take out up the steep hills near camp, we decided to start for home the next morning. While seated around our blazing log fire in the old cabin that night, Mr. Johnston entertained us with some interesting reminiscences of his extensive experience in the West. He has been a "broncho buster," a stock ranchman, and a cow-boy by turns, and a recital of his varied experiences in these several lines would fill a big book. Among others, he told us that he once livedin a portion of California where the ranchmen raised a great many hogs, but allowed them to range at will in the hills and mountains from the time they were littered until old enough and large enough for market; that in this time they became as wild as deer and as savage as peccaries, so that the only way they could ever be reclaimed and marketed was to catch them with large, powerful dogs, trained to the work. Their feet were then securely tied with strong thongs, and they were muzzled and packed into market or to the ranches, as their owners desired, on horses or mules.156ARE YOU LOOKING FOR US?Johnston had a pair of these dogs, and used to assist his neighbors in rounding up their wild hogs. In one case, he and several other men went with an old German ranchman away up into the mountains to bring out a drove of these pine-skinners, many of whom had scarcely seen a human being since they were pigs, and at sight of the party the hogs stampeded of course, and ran like so many deer. The dogs were turned loose, took up a trail, and soon had a vicious critter by the ears, when the packers came up, muzzled and tied it securely. The dogs were then turned loose again, and another hog was rounded up in the same way. These two were hung onto a pack-animal with their backs down, their feet lashed together over the pack-saddle, and their long, sharp snouts pointing toward the horse's head. They were duly cinched, and the horse turned loose to join the train. This operation was repeated until the whole herd was corralled and swung into place on the horses, and the squealing, groaning, and snorting of the terrified brutes was almost deafening. One pair of hogswere loaded on a little mule which had never been accustomed to this work, and, as the men were all engaged in handling the other animals, the old ranchman said he would lead this mule down the mountain himself. Johnston and his partner cinched the hogs on in good shape, while the Dutchman hung to the mule.158A BUCKING MULE.As they were giving the ropes the final pull, Johnston gave his chum a wink, and they both slipped out their knives, cut the muzzles off the porkers when the old man was looking the other way, and told him to go ahead. He started down the trail towing the little mule, which did not relish its load in the least, by the halter. The hogs were struggling to free themselves, and, as the thongs began to cut into their legs, they got mad and began to bite the mule.Then there was trouble; stiff-legged bucking set in, and mule and hogs were churned up and down, and changed ends so rapidly that for a few minutes it was hard to tell which of the three animals was on the outside, the inside, the topside, or the bottom-side. The poor little mule was frantic with rage and fright, and what a mule can not and will not do under such circumstances, to get rid of a load can not be done by any four-footed beast. He pawed the air, kicked, and brayed, jumped backward, forward, and sidewise, and twisted himself into every imaginable shape. The old Dutchman was as badly stampeded as the mule; he shouted, yanked, and swore in Dutch, English, and Spanish; he yelled to the men above to come and help him, but they were so convulsed and doubled up with laughter that they could not have helped him if they would.Finally, the mule got away from the old man and went tearing down into the cañon; he overtook and passed the balance of the pack-train, stampeded them almost beyond control of the packers, and knocked the poor hogs against trees and brush until they were almost dead. He ran nearly six miles, and being unable to get rid of his pack, fell exhausted and lay there until the men came up and took charge of him. The old man accused Johnston of cutting the muzzles off the hogs, but he and his partner both denied it, said they certainly must have slipped off, and they finally convinced him that that was the way the trouble came about.160THE BUCKER AND THE BUSTER.This, with sundry other recitals of an equally interesting nature, caused the evening to pass pleasantly, and at a late hour we turned into our bunks. We were up and moving long before daylight the next morning, and as soon as we could see the trailhooked up the team and attempted to go, but, alas for our hopes of an early start, one of the horses refused to pull at the very outset—in short, he balked and no mule ever balked worse. Johnston plied the buckskin until the horse refused to stand it any longer and began to rear and to throw himself on the tongue, back in the harness, etc. Johnston got off the wagon, went to the animal's head and tried to lead it, but the brute would not be led any more than it would be driven, and commenced rearing and striking at its master as if trying to kill him. This aroused the ire of the ranchman and he picked up a piece of a board, about four inches wide and three feet long, and fanned the vicious critter right vigorously. I took a hand in the game, at Johnston's request, and warmed the cayuse's latter half to the best of my ability with a green hemlock gad. He bucked and backed, reared and ranted, pawed, pitched, plunged and pranced, charged, cavorted and kicked, until it seemed that he would surely make shreds of the harness and kindling wood of the wagon; but the whole outfit staid with him, including Johnston and myself.We wore out his powers of endurance if not his hide, and he finally got down to business, took the load up the hill and home to the ranch, without manifesting any further inclination to strike. We reached the ranch about nine o'clock at night, and the next day Johnston drove me into Spokane Falls, where, in due time, I caught the train for home.162VIEW IN THE SPOKANE VALLEY.Spokane Falls is a growing, pushing town, and the falls of the Spokane river, from which the town takes its name, afford one of the most beautiful andinteresting sights on the line of the Northern Pacific road. There are over a dozen distinct falls within a half a mile, one of which is over sixty feet in perpendicular height. Several of these falls are split into various channels by small islands or pillars of basaltic rock. At one place, where two of these channels unite in a common plunge into a small pool, the water is thrown up in a beautiful, shell-like cone of white foam, to a height of nearly six feet. It is estimated by competent engineers that the river at this point furnishes a water-power equal in the aggregate to that of the Mississippi at St. Anthony's Falls. Every passenger over this route should certainly stop off and spend a few hours viewing the falls of the Spokane river.163CHAPTER XXI.HUNTING THE GRIZZLY BEAR.HEbear, like man, inhabits almost every latitude and every land, and has even been translated to the starry heavens, where the constellations of the Great Dipper and the Little Dipper are known to us as well as to the ancients asUrsi MajorandMinor. But North America furnishes the largest and most aggressive species in the grizzly (Ursus horribilis), the black (Ursus americanus), and the polar (Ursus maritimus) bears, and here the hunter finds his most daring sport. Of all the known plantigrades (flat-footed beasts) the grizzly is the most savage and the most dreaded, and he is the largest of all, saving the presence of his cousin the polar bear, for which, nevertheless, he is more than a match in strength and courage. Some specimens measure seven feet from tip of nose to root of tail. The distinctive marks of the species are its great size; the shortness of the tail as compared with the ears; the huge flat paws, the sole of the hind foot sometimes measuring seven and a half by five inches in a large male; the length of the hind legs as compared with the fore legs, which gives the beast his awkward, shambling gait; the long claws of the fore foot, sometimes seven inches in length, while those of the hind footmeasure only three or four; the erect, bristling mane of stiff hair, often six inches long; the coarse hair of the body, sometimes three inches long, dark at the base, but with light tips. He has a dark stripe along the back, and one along each side, the hair on his body being, as a rule, a brownish-yellow, the region around the ears dusky, the legs nearly black, and the muzzle pale. Color, however, is not a distinctive mark, for female grizzlies have been killed in company with two cubs, one of which was brown, the other gray, or one dark, the other light; and the supposed species of "cinnamon" and "brown" bears are merely color variations ofUrsus horribilishimself.This ubiquitous gentleman has a wide range for his habitat. He has been found on the Missouri river from Fort Pierre northward, and thence west to his favorite haunts in the Rockies; on the Pacific slope clear down to the coast; as far south as Mexico, and as far north as the Great Slave Lake in British America. He not only ranges everywhere, but eats everything. His majesty is a good liver. He is not properly a beast of prey, for he has neither the cat-like instincts, nor the noiseless tread of thefelidæ, nor is he fleet and long-winded like the wolf, although good at a short run, as an unlucky hunter may find. But he hangs about the flanks of a herd of buffalo, with probably an eye to a wounded or disabled animal, and he frequently raids a ranch and carries off a sheep, hog, or calf that is penned beyond the possibility of escape.Elk is his favorite meat, and the knowing hunter who has the good luck to kill an elk makes surethat its carcass will draw Mr. Grizzly if he is within a range of five miles. He will eat not only flesh, fish, and fowl, but roots, herbs, fruit, vegetables, honey, and insects as well. Plums, buffalo-berries, and choke-cherries make a large part of his diet in their seasons.166DEATH AND THE CAUSE OF IT.The grizzly bear possesses greater vitality and tenacity of life than any other animal on the continent, and the hunter who would hunt him must be well armed and keep a steady nerve. Each shot must be cooly put where it will do the most good. Severalare frequently necessary to stop one of these savage beasts. A single bullet lodged in the brain is fatal. If shot through the heart he may run a quarter of a mile or kill a man before he succumbs. In the days of the old muzzle-loading rifle it was hazardous indeed to hunt the grizzly, and many a man has paid the penalty of his folly with his life. With our improved breech-loading and repeating rifles there is less risk.The grizzly is said to bury carcasses of large animals for future use as food, but this I doubt. I have frequently returned to carcasses of elk or deer that I had killed and found that during my absence bears had partially destroyed them, and in their excitement, occasioned by the smell or taste of fresh meat, had pawed up the earth a good deal thereabout, throwing dirt and leaves in various directions, and some of this débris may have fallen on the bodies of the dead game; but I have never seen where any systematic attempt had been made at burying a carcass. Still, Bruin may have played the sexton in some cases. He hibernates during winter, but does not take to his long sleep until the winter has thoroughly set in and the snow is quite deep. He may frequently be tracked and found in snow a foot deep, where he is roaming in search of food. He becomes very fat before going into winter quarters, and this vast accumulation of oil furnishes nutriment and heat sufficient to sustain life during his long confinement.The newspapers often kill grizzlies weighing 1,500, 1,800, or even 2,000 pounds, and in any party of frontiersmen "talking grizzly" you will find plentyof men who can give date and place where they killed or helped to kill at least 1,800 pounds of Bruin."Did you weigh it?""No, we didn't weigh 'im; but every man as seed 'im said he would weigh that, and they was all good jedges, too."And this is the way most of the stories of big bear, big elk, big deer, etc., begin and end. Bears are usually, though not always, killed at considerable distances from towns, or even ranches, where it is not easy to find a scales large enough to weigh so much meat.The largest grizzly I have ever killed would not weigh more than 700 or 800 pounds, and I do not believe one has ever lived that would weigh 1,000 pounds. The flesh of the adult grizzly is tough, stringy, and decidedly unpalatable, but that of a young fat one is tender and juicy, and is always a welcome dish on the hunter's table.The female usually gives birth to two cubs, and sometimes three, at a time. At birth they weigh only about 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 pounds each. The grizzly breeds readily in confinement, and several litters have been produced in the Zoological Gardens at Cincinnati. The female is unusually vicious while rearing her young, and the hunter must be doubly cautious about attacking at that time. An Indian rarely attacks a grizzly single-handed at any time, and it is only when several of these native hunters are together that they will attempt to kill one. They value the claws very highly, however, and take great pride in wearing strings of them around their necks.The grizzly usually frequents the timbered or brush-covered portions of mountainous regions, or the timbered valleys of streams that head in the mountains. He occasionally follows down the course of these streams, and even travels many miles from one stream to another, or from one range of mountains to another, across open prairie. I once found one on a broad open plateau in the Big Horn Mountains, about half a mile from the nearest cover of any kind. He was turning over rocks in search of worms. At the report of my rifle he started for the nearest cañon, but never reached it. An explosive bullet through his lungs rendered him unequal to the journey.Few persons believe that a grizzly will attack a man before he is himself attacked. I was one of these doubting Thomases until a few years ago, when I was thoroughly convinced by ocular demonstration that some grizzlies, at least, will attempt to make a meal off a man even though he may not have harmed them previously. We were hunting in the Shoshone Mountains in Northern Wyoming. I had killed a large elk in the morning, and on going back to the carcass in the afternoon to skin it we saw that Bruin had been there ahead us, but had fled on our approach. Without the least apprehension of his return, we leaned our rifles against a tree about fifty feet away, and commenced work. There were three of us, but only two rifles, Mr. Huffman, the photographer, having left his in camp. He had finished taking views of the carcass, and we were all busily engaged skinning, when, hearing a crashing in the brush and a series of savage roars and growls, welooked up the hill, and were horrified to see three grizzly bears, an old female and two cubs about two-thirds grown, charging upon us with all the savage fury of a pack of starving wolves upon a sheepfold.To make a long story short, we killed the old female and one cub; the other escaped into the jungle before we could get a shot at him. The resolute front we put on alone saved our lives.In another instance, when hunting deer in Idaho, I came suddenly upon a female grizzly and two cubs, when the mother bear charged me savagely and would have killed me had I not fortunately controlled my nerves long enough to put a couple of bullets through her and stop her before she got to me.I have heard of several other instances of grizzlies making unprovoked attacks on men, which were so well substantiated that I could not question the truth of the reports.The grizzly is partially nocturnal in his habits, and apparently divides his labor of obtaining food and his traveling about equally between day and night. It is not definitely known to what age he lives in his wild state, but he is supposed to attain to twenty-five or thirty years. Several have lived in domestication to nearly that age, and one died in Union Park, Chicago, a few years ago, that was known to be eighteen years old.Notwithstanding the great courage and ferocity of this formidable beast, he will utter the most pitiable groans and howls when seriously or mortally wounded.Two brothers were prospecting in a range of mountainsnear the headwaters of the Stinking Water river. The younger of the two, though an ablebodied man, and capable of doing a good day's work with a pick or shovel, was weak-minded, and the elder brother never allowed him to go any distance away from camp or their work alone. He, however, sent him one evening to the spring, a few rods off, to bring a kettleful of water. The spring was in a deep gorge, and the trail to it wound through some fissures in the rock. As the young man passed under a shelving rock, an immense old female grizzly, that had taken up temporary quarters there, reached out and struck a powerful blow at his head, but fortunately could not reach far enough to do him any serious harm. The blow knocked his hat off, and her claws caught his scalp, and laid it open clear across the top of his head in several ugly gashes. The force of the blow sent him spinning around, and not knowing enough to be frightened, he attacked her savagely with the only weapon he had at hand—the camp kettle.The elder brother heard the racket, and hastily catching up his rifle and hurrying to the scene of the disturbance, found his brother vigorously belaboring the bear over the head with the camp kettle, and the bear striking savage blows at him, any one of which, if she could have reached him, would have torn his head from his shoulders. Three bullets from the rifle, fired in rapid succession, loosened her hold upon the rocks, and she tumbled lifelessly into the trail. The poor idiotic boy could not even then realize the danger through which he had passed, and could only appease his anger bycontinuing to maul the bear over the head with the camp kettle for several minutes after she was dead.Some years ago I went into the mountains with a party of friends to hunt elk. Our guide told us we should find plenty of grouse along the trail, from the day we left the settlements; that on the third day out we should find elk, and that it would therefore be useless to burden our pack-horses with meat. We accordingly took none save a small piece of bacon.Contrary to his predictions, however, we found no grouse or other small gameen route, and soon ate up our bacon. Furthermore, we were five days in reaching the elk country, instead of three as he said. All this time we were climbing mountains and had appetites that are known only to mountain climbers. We had plenty of bread and potatoes, but these were not sufficient. We hankered for flesh, and though we filled ourselves with vegetable food, yet were we hungry.Finally we reached our destination at midday. While we were unloading the horses, a "fool hen" came and lit in a tree near us. A rifle ball beheaded her, and almost before she was done kicking she was in the frying pan.A negro once had a bottle of whisky, and was making vigorous efforts to get outside of it, when a chum came up and asked for a pull at it. "O, g'long, nigger," said the happy owner of the corn juice. "What's one bottle of whisky 'mong one man?" And what was one little grouse among five half-starved men? The smell and taste only made us long for more.After dinner we all went out and hunted until dark. Soon after leaving camp some of us heard lively firing up the cañon, where our guide had gone, and felt certain that he had secured meat, for we had heard glowing accounts, from him and his friends, of his prowess as a hunter. The rest of us were not so despondent, therefore, when we returned at dusk empty handed, as we should otherwise have been, until we reached camp and found the guide there wearing a long face and bloodless hands.He told a doleful story of having had five fair shots at a large bull elk, who stood broadside on, only seventy-five yards away, but who finally became alarmed at the fusilade and fled, leaving no blood on his trail. The guide of course anathematized his gun in the choicest terms known to frontiersmen, and our mouths watered as we thought of what might have been.Our potatoes, having been compelled to stand for meat also, had vanished rapidly, and we ate the last of them for supper that night. Few words were spoken and no jokes cracked over that meal. We ate bread straight for breakfast, and turning out early hunted diligently all day. We were nearly famished when we returned at night and no one had seen any living thing larger than a pine squirrel. It is written that "man shall not live by bread alone," and we found that we could not much longer. And soon we should not have even that, for our flour was getting low. But we broke the steaming flat-cake again at supper, and turned in to dream of juicy steaks, succulent joints, and delicious rib roasts.We were up before daylight to find that six or eight inches of light snow had fallen silently during the night, which lay piled up on the branches of the trees, draping the dense forests in ghostly white. Our drooping spirits revived, for we hoped that the tell-tale mantle would enable us to find the game we so much needed in our business. We broke our bread more cheerfully that morning than for two days previously, but at the council of war held over the frugal meal, decided that unless we scored that day we must make tracks for the nearest ranch the next morning, and try to make our scanty remnant of flour keep us alive until we could get there.Breakfast over we scattered ourselves by the four points of the compass and set out. It fell to my lot to go up the cañon. Silently I strode through the forest, scanning the snow in search of foot-prints, but for an hour I could see none. Then, as I cautiously ascended a ridge, I heard a crash in the brush beyond and reached the summit just in time to see the latter end of a large bull elk disappear in the thicket.He had not heard or seen me, but had winded me, and tarried not for better acquaintance. I followed his trail some three miles up the cañon, carefully penetrating the thickets and peering among the larger trees, but never a glimpse could I get and never a sound could I hear of him. He seemed unusually wild. I could see by his trail that he had not stopped, but had kept straight away on that long, swinging trot that is such a telling gait of the species, and which they will sometimes keep up for hours together. Finally I came to where he hadleft the cañon and ascended the mountain. I followed up this for a time, but seeing that he had not yet paused, and finding that my famished condition rendered me unequal to the climb, was compelled to abandon the pursuit and with a heavy heart return again to the cañon. I kept on up it, but could find no other game or sign of any. Like the red hunter, in the time of famine, who"Vainly walked through the forest,Sought for bird, or beast, and found none;Saw no track of deer or rabbit,In the snow beheld no foot-prints,In the ghostly gleaming forestFell and could not rise from weakness,"so I trudged on until, wearied and worn out, I lay down beside a giant fir tree, whose spreading branches had kept the snow from the ground, and fell asleep. When I awoke my joints were stiff and sore, and I was chilled to the bone. It was late in the afternoon, and a quiet, drizzling rain had set in.I found the trail that led through the cañon, and started back to camp, trudging along as rapidly as possible, for hunger was gnawing at my vitals and my strength was fast failing."Over snow-fields waste and pathless,Under snow-encumbered branches,Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,"I toiled wearily on. The snow had become saturated with the rain, and great chunks of it were falling from the trees with dull, monotonous sounds. "Slush, slush," "Splash, splash," came the gloomy sounds from all parts of the woods. I was nearing camp, and had abandoned all hope of seeing game.My only object was to reach shelter, to rest, and feast on the unsatisfying bread. I heard a succession of the splashings that came from my left with such regular cadence as to cause me to look up, when, great St. Hubert! there came a huge grizzly bear shambling and splashing along through the wet snow. It was his footsteps that I had been hearing for a minute or two past, and which I had, at first, thought to be the falling snow.He had not yet seen me, and what a marvelous change came over me! I forgot that I was tired; that I was weak; that I was hungry. The instincts of the hunter reanimated me, and I thought only of killing the grand game before me. I threw down my rifle, raising the hammer as the weapon came into position, and the click of the lock reached his ear. It was the first intimation he had of possible danger, and he stopped and threw up his head to look and listen. My thoughts came and went like flashes of lightning. I remembered then the famishing condition of myself and friends. Here was meat, and I must save it. There must be no nervousness—no wild shooting now. This shotmusttell. And there was not a tremor in all my system. Every nerve was as of steel for the instant. The little gold bead on the muzzle of the rifle instantly found the vital spot behind the bear's shoulder, gleamed through the rear sight like a spark of fire, and before he had time to realize what the strange apparition was that had so suddenly confronted him, the voice of the Winchester was echoing through the cañon and an express bullet had crashed through his vitals.The shock was so sudden and the effect on him so deadly that he apparently thought nothing of fight, but only of seeking a place to die in peace.He wheeled and shot into a neighboring thicket with the speed of an arrow. I fired at him again as he disappeared. He crashed through the jungle out into the open woods, turned to the right and went across a ridge as if Satan himself were after him. As the big gray mass shot through a clear space between two trees I gave him another speeder, and then he disappeared beyond a ridge.The snow had melted rapidly and the ground was bare in places, so that I had some trouble in trailing the bear, but wherever he crossed a patch of snow his trail was bespattered with blood. I followed over the ridge and through scattering jack pines, about two hundred yards, and found him lying dead near the trail. My first and third bullets had gone in behind his shoulder only an inch apart. The first had passed clear through him, and the other had lodged against the skin on the opposite side. Several ribs were broken on either side, and his lungs and other portions of his interior were ground into sausage; yet so great was his vitality and tenacity to life that he was able to make this distance at a speed that would have taxed the best horse in the country, and if he had seen fit to attack me instead of running away he would probably have made sausage of me.But what feasting and what revelry there was in camp that night. It was a young bear, fat as butter, and rib roasts and cutlets were devoured in quantities that would have shocked the modesty ofa tramp. Not until well into the night did we cease to eat, and wrap ourselves in our blankets. We staid several days in the cañon after that, and killed plenty of elk and other game.The skin of the grizzly is one of the most valuable trophies a sportsman can obtain on any field, and its rarity, and the danger and excitement attending the taking of it, the courage it bespeaks on the part of the hunter, render it a prize of which the winner may justly feel proud for a lifetime.The best localities in which to hunt the grizzly bear—that is, those most accessible and in which he is now most numerous—are the Big Horn, Shoshone, Wind River, Bear Tooth, Belt, and Crazy Mountains, in Wyoming and Montana, all of which may be easily reached by way of the Northern Pacific road.The best time of year to hunt for this, as well as all the other species of large game in the Rocky Mountains, is in the months of September, October, and November, though in the latter month the sportsman should not venture high up into the mountains where heavy snow-falls are liable to occur. There is a great deal of bear hunting done in the summer months, but it is contrary to the laws of nature, and should not be indulged in by any true sportsman. The skins are nearly worthless then, while in the autumn they are prime; the heat is oppressive, and the flies and mosquitoes are great pests.The best arm for this class of game is a repeating rifle of large calibre, 45 or 50, carrying a largecharge of powder and a solid bullet. The new Winchester express, 50/110, with solid ball, is perhaps the best in the market, all things considered.There are several methods of hunting the grizzly, the most common being to kill an elk, and then watch the carcass. Shots may frequently be obtained in this way early in the morning or late in the evening, and on bright moonlight nights it is best to watch all night, for the immense size of the grizzly renders him an easy target at short range even by moonlight. Another method is to still-hunt him, the same as is done with deer. This is perhaps the most sportsmanlike of all, and if a coulee or creek bottom be selected where there are plenty of berries, or an open, hilly, rocky country, where the bears are in the habit of hunting for worms, or any good feeding-ground where bear signs are plentiful, and due care and caution be exercised, there is as good a chance of success as by any other method. Many hunters set guns with a cord running from the trigger to a bait of fresh meat, and the muzzle of the gun pointing at the meat; others set large steel traps or deadfalls. But such contrivances are never used by true sportsmen.Game of any kind should always be pursued in a fair, manly manner, and given due chance to preserve its life if it is skillful enough to do so. If captured, let it be by the superior skill, sagacity, or endurance of the sportsman, not by traps which close on it as it innocently and unsuspectingly seeks its food.Grizzly bear hunting is unquestionably the grandest sport that our continent affords. The grizzlyis the only really dangerous game we have, and the decidedly hazardous character of the sport is what gives it its greatest zest, and renders it the most fascinating of pursuits. Many sportsmen proclaim the superiority of their favorite pastime over all other kinds, be it quail, grouse, or duck shooting, fox-chasing, deer-stalking, or what not; and each has its charm, more or less intense, according to its nature; but no man ever felt his heart swell with pride, his nerves tingle with animation, his whole system glow with wild, uncontrollable enthusiasm, at the bagging of any bird or small animal, as does the man who stands over the prostrate form of a monster grizzly that he has slain. Let the devotee of these other classes of sport try bear hunting, and when he has bagged his first grizzly, then let him talk!180CHAPTER XXII.ELK HUNTING IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.Fall the large game on the American continent, the elk (Cervus canadensis) is the noblest, the grandest, the stateliest. I would detract nothing from the noble game qualities of the moose, caribou, deer, or mountain sheep. Each has its peculiar points of excellence which endear it to the heart of the sportsman, but the elk possesses more than any of the others. In size he towers far above all, except the moose. In sagacity, caution, cunning, and wariness he is the peer, if not the superior, of them all. He is always on the alert, his keen scent, his piercing eye, his acute sense of hearing, combining to render him a vigilant sentinel of his own safety.His great size and powerful muscular construction give him almost unbounded endurance. When alarmed or pursued he will travel for twenty or thirty hours, at a rapid swinging trot, without stopping for food or rest. He is a proud, fearless ranger, and even when simply migrating from one range of mountains to another, will travel from seventy-five to a hundred miles without lying down. He is a marvelous mountaineer, and, considering hisimmense size and weight, often ascends to heights that seem incredible. He may often be found away up to timber line, and will traverse narrow passes and defiles, climbing over walls of rock and through fissures where it would seem impossible for so large an animal, with such massive antlers as he carries, to go. He chooses his route, however, with rare good judgment, and all mountaineers know that an elk trail is the best that can possibly be selected over any given section of mountainous country. His faculty of traversing dense jungles and windfalls is equally astonishing. If given his own time, he will move quietly and easily through the worst of these, leaping over logs higher than his back as gracefully and almost as lightly as the deer; yet let a herd of elk be alarmed and start on a run through one of these labyrinthine masses, and they will make a noise like a regiment of cavalry on a precipitous charge.I have stood on the margin of a quaking-asp thicket and heard a large band of elk coming toward me that had been "jumped" and fired upon by my friend at the other side, and the frightful noise of their horns pounding the trees, their hoofs striking each other and the numerous rocks, the crashing of dead branches, with the snorting of the affrighted beasts, might well have struck terror to the heart of anyone unused to such sights and sounds, and have caused him to seek safety in flight. But by standing my ground I was enabled to get in a couple of shots at short range, and to bring down two of the finest animals in the herd.The whistle of the elk is a sound which manyhave tried to describe, yet I doubt if anyone who may have read all the descriptions of it ever written would recognize it on a first hearing. It is a most strange, weird, peculiar sound, baffling all efforts of the most skillful word-painter. It is only uttered by the male, and there is the same variety in the sound made by different stags as in different human voices. Usually the cry begins and ends with a sort of grunt, somewhat like the bellow of a domestic cow cut short, but the interlude is a long-drawn, melodious, flutelike sound that rises and falls with a rhythmical cadence, floating on the still evening air, by which it is often wafted with singular distinctness to great distances. By other individuals, or even by the same individual at various times, either the first or last of these abrupt sounds is omitted, and only the other, in connection with the long-drawn, silver-toned strain, is given.The stag utters this call only in the love-making season, and for the purpose of ascertaining the whereabouts of his dusky mate, who responds by a short and utterly unmusical sound, similar to that with which the male begins or ends his call.Once, when exploring in Idaho, I had an interesting and exciting experience with a band of elk. I had camped for the night on a high divide, between two branches of the Clearwater river. The weather had been intensely dry and hot for several days, and the tall rye grass that grew in the old burn where I had pitched my camp was dry as powder. There was a gentle breeze from the south. Fearing that a spark might be carried into the grass, I extinguished my camp-fire as soon as I had cooked and eaten mysupper. As darkness drew on, I went out to picket my horses and noticed that they were acting strangely. They were looking down the mountain side with ears pointed forward, sniffing the air and moving about uneasily.184THEWAPITI, OR AMERICAN ELK.I gave their picket ropes a turn around convenient jack pines, and then slipping cautiously back to the tent, got my rifle and returned. I could see nothing strange and sat down beside a log to await developments. In a few minutes I heard a dead limb break. Then there was a rustling in a bunch of tall, dry grass; more snapping of twigs and shaking of bushes. I ascertained that there were several large animals moving toward me and feared it might be a family of bears. I feared it, I say, because it was now so dark that I could not see to shoot at any distance, and knew that if bears came near the horses the latter would break their ropes and stampede. I thought of shouting and trying to frighten them off, but decided to await developments. Presently I heard a snapping of hoofs and a succession of dull, heavy, thumping noises, accompanied by reports of breaking brush, which I knew at once were made by a band of elk jumping over a high log.The game was now not more than fifty yards away and in open ground, yet I could not see even a movement, for I was looking down toward a dark cañon, many hundreds of feet deep. Slowly the great beasts worked toward me. They were coming down wind and I felt sure could not scent me, but they could evidently see my horses, outlined against the sky, and had doubtless heard them snorting and moving about.The ponies grew more anxious but less frightened than at first, and seemed now desirous of making the acquaintance of their wild visitors.Slowly the elk moved forward until within thirty or forty feet of me, when I could begin to discern by the starlight their dark, shaggy forms. Then they stopped. I could hear them sniffing the air and could see them moving cautiously from place to place, apparently suspicious of danger. But they were coming down wind, could get no indication of my presence, and were anxious to interview the horses.They moved slowly forward, and when they stopped this time, two old bulls and one cow, who were in the front rank, so to speak, stood within ten feet of me. Their great horns towered up like the branches of dead trees, and I could hear them breathe.Again they circled from side to side and I thought surely they would get far enough to one quarter or the other to wind me, but they did not. Several other cows and two timid little calves crowded to the front to look at their hornless cousins who now stood close behind me, and even in the starlight, I could have shot any one of them between the eyes.My saddle cayuse uttered a low gentle whinny, whereat the whole band wheeled and dashed away; but after making a few leaps their momentary scare seemed to subside, and they stopped, looked, snorted a few times and then began to edge up again—this time even more shyly than before.It was intensely interesting to study the caution and circumspection with which these creaturesplanned and carried out their investigation all the way through.The only mistake they made, and one at which I was surprised, considering their usual cunning and sagacity, was that some of them at least did not circle the horses and get to the leeward. But they were in such a wild country, so far back in the remote fastnesses of the Rockies, that they had probably never encountered hunters or horses before and had not acquired all the cunning of their more hunted and haunted brothers. After their temporary scare they returned, step by step, to their investigation, and the largest bull in the bunch approached the very log behind which I sat. He was just in the act of stepping over it when he caught a whiff of my breath and, with a terrific snort, vaulted backward and sidewise certainly thirty feet. At the same instant I rose up and shouted, and the whole band went tearing down the mountain side making a racket like that of an avalanche.As before stated, I could have had my choice out of the herd, but my only pack-horse was loaded so that I could have carried but a small piece of meat, and was unwilling to waste so grand a creature for the little I could save from him.The antlers of the bull elk grow to a great size. He sheds them in February of each year. The new horn begins to grow in April. During the summer it is soft and pulpy and is covered with a fine velvety growth of hair; it matures and hardens in August; early in September he rubs this velvet off and is then ready to try conclusions with any rival that comes inhis way. The rutting season over, he has no further use for his antlers until the next autumn, and they drop off. Thus the process is repeated, year after year, as regularly as the leaves grow and fall from the trees. But it seems a strange provision of nature that should load an animal with sixty to seventy-five pounds of horns, for half the year, when weapons of one-quarter the size and weight would be equally effective if all were armed alike.I have in my collection the head of a bull elk, killed in the Shoshone Mountains, in Northern Wyoming, the antlers of which measure as follows:Length of main beam, 4 feet 8 inches; length of brow tine, 1 foot 6-1/2 inches; length of bes tine, 1 foot 8-1/2 inches; length of royal tine, 1 foot 7 inches; length of surroyal, 1 foot 8-1/2 inches: circumference around burr, 1 foot 3-1/4 inches; circumference around beam above burr, 12 inches; circumference of brow tine at base, 7-1/2 inches; spread of main beams at tips, 4 feet 9 inches. They are one of the largest and finest pairs of antlers of which I have any knowledge. The animal when killed would have weighed nearly a thousand pounds.The elk is strictly gregarious, and in winter time, especially, the animals gather into large bands, and a few years ago herds of from five hundred to a thousand were not uncommon. Now, however, their numbers have been so far reduced by the ravages of "skin hunters" and others that one will rarely find more than twenty-five or thirty in a band.In the fall of 1879, a party of three men were sight-seeing and hunting in the Yellowstone National Park, and having prolonged their stay untillate in October, were overtaken by a terrible snowstorm, which completely blockaded and obliterated all the trails, and filled the gulches, cañons, and coulees to such a depth that their horses could not travel over them at all. They had lain in camp three days waiting for the storm to abate; but as it continued to grow in severity, and as the snow became deeper and deeper, their situation grew daily and hourly more alarming. Their stock of provisions was low, they had no shelter sufficient to withstand the rigors of a winter at that high altitude, and it was fast becoming a question whether they should ever be able to escape beyond the snow-clad peaks and snow-filled cañons with which they were hemmed in. Their only hope of escape was by abandoning their horses, and constructing snow-shoes which might keep them above the snow; but in this case they could not carry bedding and food enough to last them throughout the several days that the journey would occupy to the nearest ranch, and the chances of killing gameen routeafter the severe weather had set in were extremely precarious. They had already set about making snow-shoes from the skin of an elk which they had saved. One pair had been completed, and the storm having abated, one of the party set out to look over the surrounding country for the most feasible route by which to get out, and also to try if possible to find game of some kind. He had gone about a mile toward the northeast when he came upon the fresh trail of a large band of elk that were moving toward the east. He followed, and in a short time came up with them. They were traveling in single file, ledby a powerful old bull, who wallowed through snow in which only his head and neck were visible, with all the patience and perseverance of a faithful old ox. The others followed him—the stronger ones in front and the weaker ones bringing up the rear. There were thirty-seven in the band, and by the time they had all walked in the same line they left it an open, well-beaten trail. The hunter approached within a few yards of them. They were greatly alarmed when they saw him, and made a few bounds in various directions; but seeing their struggles were in vain, they meekly submitted to what seemed their impending fate, and fell back in rear of their file-leader. This would have been the golden opportunity of a skin hunter, who could and would have shot them all down in their tracks from a single stand. But such was not the mission of our friend. He saw in this noble, struggling band a means of deliverance from what had threatened to be a wintry grave for him and his companions. He did not fire a shot, and did not in any way create unnecessary alarm amongst the elk, but hurried back to camp and reported to his friends what he had seen.In a moment the camp was a scene of activity and excitement. Tent, bedding, provisions, everything that was absolutely necessary to their journey, were hurriedly packed upon their pack animals; saddles were placed, rifles were slung to the saddles, and leaving all surplus baggage, such as trophies of their hunt, mineral specimens and curios of various kinds, for future comers, they started for the elk trail. They had a slow, tedious, and laborious task, breaking a way through the deep snow to reach it,but by walking and leading their saddle animals ahead, the pack animals were able to follow slowly. Finally they reached the trail of the elk herd, and following this, after nine days of tedious and painful traveling, the party arrived at a ranch on the Stinking Water river, which was kept by a "squaw man" and his wife, where they were enabled to lodge and recruit themselves and their stock, and whence they finally reached their homes in safety. The band of elk passed on down the river, and our tourists never saw them again; but they have doubtless long ere this all fallen a prey to the ruthless war that is constantly being waged against them by hunters white and red.It is sad to think that such a noble creature as the American elk is doomed to early and absolute extinction, but such is nevertheless the fact. Year by year his mountain habitat is being surrounded and encroached upon by the advancing line of settlements, as the fisherman encircles the struggling mass of fishes in the clear pond with his long and closely-meshed net. The lines are drawn closer and closer each year. These lines are the ranches of cattle and sheep raisers, the cabins and towns of miners, the stations and residences of employés of the railroads. All these places are made the shelters and temporary abiding places of Eastern and foreign sportsmen who go out to the mountains to hunt. Worse than this, they are made the permanent abiding places, and constitute the active and convenient markets of the nefarious and unconscionable skin hunter and meat hunter. Here he can find a ready market for the meats and skins hebrings in, and an opportunity to spend the proceeds of such outrageous traffic in ranch whisky and revelry. The ranchmen themselves hunt and lay in their stock of meat for the year when the game comes down into the valleys. The Indians, when they have eaten up their Government rations, lie in wait for the elk in the same manner. So that when the first great snows of the autumn or winter fall in the high ranges, when the elk band together and seek refuge in the valleys, as did the herd that our fortunate tourists followed out, they find a mixed and hungry horde waiting for them at the mouth of every cañon. Before they have reached the valley where the snow-fall is light enough to allow them to live through the winter their skins are drying in the neighboring "shacks."
152
Ewere out at daylight the next morning and hunted all day with fair success. Johnston and Billy jumped a bunch of five mule-deer, a buck, two does, and two fawns. Johnston fired fourteen shots at them before they got out of the country, and killed the two does. In speaking of it afterward Billy said he was just taking a good aim at the old buck's eye when Johnston's gun cracked the first time, and of course the buck ran, so he did not get a shot."But why didn't you shoot at him running?" I inquired."Because I can't hit a jumpin' deer," he replied, frankly, "and I hate like thunder to miss."I spent the day about a mile from camp on top of Blue Grouse Mountain, a prominent landmark of the country. A heavy fog hung about the mountain and over the surrounding country until about three o'clock in the afternoon, when it lifted and disclosed a view of surpassing loveliness. Away to the west and southwest there was a level tract of swampy, heavily timbered country about thirty miles long and ten miles wide. I looked down on the tops of the trees composing this vast forest, and they appeared at this distance not unlike a vast field of half-grown green grain. Beyond this tract to thewest a chain of hills wound in serpentine curves from north to south, their parks and bits of prairie gleaming in the sun like well-made farms. To the north lay Loon Lake nestling among the pine-clad hills, its placid bosom sparkling in the setting sun like a sheet of silver. Farther to the north and northeast were two other lakes of equal size and beauty, while far distant in the east were several large bodies of prairie separated by strips of pine and fir. I longed for my camera, but on account of the unfavorable outlook of the morning, I had not brought the instrument.
Ewere out at daylight the next morning and hunted all day with fair success. Johnston and Billy jumped a bunch of five mule-deer, a buck, two does, and two fawns. Johnston fired fourteen shots at them before they got out of the country, and killed the two does. In speaking of it afterward Billy said he was just taking a good aim at the old buck's eye when Johnston's gun cracked the first time, and of course the buck ran, so he did not get a shot.
"But why didn't you shoot at him running?" I inquired.
"Because I can't hit a jumpin' deer," he replied, frankly, "and I hate like thunder to miss."
I spent the day about a mile from camp on top of Blue Grouse Mountain, a prominent landmark of the country. A heavy fog hung about the mountain and over the surrounding country until about three o'clock in the afternoon, when it lifted and disclosed a view of surpassing loveliness. Away to the west and southwest there was a level tract of swampy, heavily timbered country about thirty miles long and ten miles wide. I looked down on the tops of the trees composing this vast forest, and they appeared at this distance not unlike a vast field of half-grown green grain. Beyond this tract to thewest a chain of hills wound in serpentine curves from north to south, their parks and bits of prairie gleaming in the sun like well-made farms. To the north lay Loon Lake nestling among the pine-clad hills, its placid bosom sparkling in the setting sun like a sheet of silver. Farther to the north and northeast were two other lakes of equal size and beauty, while far distant in the east were several large bodies of prairie separated by strips of pine and fir. I longed for my camera, but on account of the unfavorable outlook of the morning, I had not brought the instrument.
154
ONE OF JOHNSTON'S PRIZES.
The following morning promised no better, for the fog hung like a pall over the whole country; but I took the little detective with me, hoping the mist would lift as before; in this, however, I was disappointed. I staid on the mountain from early morning till half-past three, and there being then no prospect of a change went down. Just as I reached the base I saw a rift in the clouds, and supposing the long-wished change in the weather was about to take place, I turned and began the weary climb, but again the fog settled down, and I was at last compelled to return to camp without the coveted views. I made several exposures during the day on crooked, deformed, wind-twisted trees on the top of the mountain, which, strange to say, came out good. The fog was so dense at the time that one could not see fifty yards. I used a small stop and gave each plate from five to twenty seconds, and found, when developed, that none of them were over exposed, while those given the shorter time were under exposed. That day's hunting resulted in three moredeer, and as we then had all the meat our team could take out up the steep hills near camp, we decided to start for home the next morning. While seated around our blazing log fire in the old cabin that night, Mr. Johnston entertained us with some interesting reminiscences of his extensive experience in the West. He has been a "broncho buster," a stock ranchman, and a cow-boy by turns, and a recital of his varied experiences in these several lines would fill a big book. Among others, he told us that he once livedin a portion of California where the ranchmen raised a great many hogs, but allowed them to range at will in the hills and mountains from the time they were littered until old enough and large enough for market; that in this time they became as wild as deer and as savage as peccaries, so that the only way they could ever be reclaimed and marketed was to catch them with large, powerful dogs, trained to the work. Their feet were then securely tied with strong thongs, and they were muzzled and packed into market or to the ranches, as their owners desired, on horses or mules.
156
ARE YOU LOOKING FOR US?
Johnston had a pair of these dogs, and used to assist his neighbors in rounding up their wild hogs. In one case, he and several other men went with an old German ranchman away up into the mountains to bring out a drove of these pine-skinners, many of whom had scarcely seen a human being since they were pigs, and at sight of the party the hogs stampeded of course, and ran like so many deer. The dogs were turned loose, took up a trail, and soon had a vicious critter by the ears, when the packers came up, muzzled and tied it securely. The dogs were then turned loose again, and another hog was rounded up in the same way. These two were hung onto a pack-animal with their backs down, their feet lashed together over the pack-saddle, and their long, sharp snouts pointing toward the horse's head. They were duly cinched, and the horse turned loose to join the train. This operation was repeated until the whole herd was corralled and swung into place on the horses, and the squealing, groaning, and snorting of the terrified brutes was almost deafening. One pair of hogswere loaded on a little mule which had never been accustomed to this work, and, as the men were all engaged in handling the other animals, the old ranchman said he would lead this mule down the mountain himself. Johnston and his partner cinched the hogs on in good shape, while the Dutchman hung to the mule.
158
A BUCKING MULE.
As they were giving the ropes the final pull, Johnston gave his chum a wink, and they both slipped out their knives, cut the muzzles off the porkers when the old man was looking the other way, and told him to go ahead. He started down the trail towing the little mule, which did not relish its load in the least, by the halter. The hogs were struggling to free themselves, and, as the thongs began to cut into their legs, they got mad and began to bite the mule.
Then there was trouble; stiff-legged bucking set in, and mule and hogs were churned up and down, and changed ends so rapidly that for a few minutes it was hard to tell which of the three animals was on the outside, the inside, the topside, or the bottom-side. The poor little mule was frantic with rage and fright, and what a mule can not and will not do under such circumstances, to get rid of a load can not be done by any four-footed beast. He pawed the air, kicked, and brayed, jumped backward, forward, and sidewise, and twisted himself into every imaginable shape. The old Dutchman was as badly stampeded as the mule; he shouted, yanked, and swore in Dutch, English, and Spanish; he yelled to the men above to come and help him, but they were so convulsed and doubled up with laughter that they could not have helped him if they would.
Finally, the mule got away from the old man and went tearing down into the cañon; he overtook and passed the balance of the pack-train, stampeded them almost beyond control of the packers, and knocked the poor hogs against trees and brush until they were almost dead. He ran nearly six miles, and being unable to get rid of his pack, fell exhausted and lay there until the men came up and took charge of him. The old man accused Johnston of cutting the muzzles off the hogs, but he and his partner both denied it, said they certainly must have slipped off, and they finally convinced him that that was the way the trouble came about.
160
THE BUCKER AND THE BUSTER.
This, with sundry other recitals of an equally interesting nature, caused the evening to pass pleasantly, and at a late hour we turned into our bunks. We were up and moving long before daylight the next morning, and as soon as we could see the trailhooked up the team and attempted to go, but, alas for our hopes of an early start, one of the horses refused to pull at the very outset—in short, he balked and no mule ever balked worse. Johnston plied the buckskin until the horse refused to stand it any longer and began to rear and to throw himself on the tongue, back in the harness, etc. Johnston got off the wagon, went to the animal's head and tried to lead it, but the brute would not be led any more than it would be driven, and commenced rearing and striking at its master as if trying to kill him. This aroused the ire of the ranchman and he picked up a piece of a board, about four inches wide and three feet long, and fanned the vicious critter right vigorously. I took a hand in the game, at Johnston's request, and warmed the cayuse's latter half to the best of my ability with a green hemlock gad. He bucked and backed, reared and ranted, pawed, pitched, plunged and pranced, charged, cavorted and kicked, until it seemed that he would surely make shreds of the harness and kindling wood of the wagon; but the whole outfit staid with him, including Johnston and myself.
We wore out his powers of endurance if not his hide, and he finally got down to business, took the load up the hill and home to the ranch, without manifesting any further inclination to strike. We reached the ranch about nine o'clock at night, and the next day Johnston drove me into Spokane Falls, where, in due time, I caught the train for home.
162
VIEW IN THE SPOKANE VALLEY.
Spokane Falls is a growing, pushing town, and the falls of the Spokane river, from which the town takes its name, afford one of the most beautiful andinteresting sights on the line of the Northern Pacific road. There are over a dozen distinct falls within a half a mile, one of which is over sixty feet in perpendicular height. Several of these falls are split into various channels by small islands or pillars of basaltic rock. At one place, where two of these channels unite in a common plunge into a small pool, the water is thrown up in a beautiful, shell-like cone of white foam, to a height of nearly six feet. It is estimated by competent engineers that the river at this point furnishes a water-power equal in the aggregate to that of the Mississippi at St. Anthony's Falls. Every passenger over this route should certainly stop off and spend a few hours viewing the falls of the Spokane river.
163
HUNTING THE GRIZZLY BEAR.
HEbear, like man, inhabits almost every latitude and every land, and has even been translated to the starry heavens, where the constellations of the Great Dipper and the Little Dipper are known to us as well as to the ancients asUrsi MajorandMinor. But North America furnishes the largest and most aggressive species in the grizzly (Ursus horribilis), the black (Ursus americanus), and the polar (Ursus maritimus) bears, and here the hunter finds his most daring sport. Of all the known plantigrades (flat-footed beasts) the grizzly is the most savage and the most dreaded, and he is the largest of all, saving the presence of his cousin the polar bear, for which, nevertheless, he is more than a match in strength and courage. Some specimens measure seven feet from tip of nose to root of tail. The distinctive marks of the species are its great size; the shortness of the tail as compared with the ears; the huge flat paws, the sole of the hind foot sometimes measuring seven and a half by five inches in a large male; the length of the hind legs as compared with the fore legs, which gives the beast his awkward, shambling gait; the long claws of the fore foot, sometimes seven inches in length, while those of the hind footmeasure only three or four; the erect, bristling mane of stiff hair, often six inches long; the coarse hair of the body, sometimes three inches long, dark at the base, but with light tips. He has a dark stripe along the back, and one along each side, the hair on his body being, as a rule, a brownish-yellow, the region around the ears dusky, the legs nearly black, and the muzzle pale. Color, however, is not a distinctive mark, for female grizzlies have been killed in company with two cubs, one of which was brown, the other gray, or one dark, the other light; and the supposed species of "cinnamon" and "brown" bears are merely color variations ofUrsus horribilishimself.This ubiquitous gentleman has a wide range for his habitat. He has been found on the Missouri river from Fort Pierre northward, and thence west to his favorite haunts in the Rockies; on the Pacific slope clear down to the coast; as far south as Mexico, and as far north as the Great Slave Lake in British America. He not only ranges everywhere, but eats everything. His majesty is a good liver. He is not properly a beast of prey, for he has neither the cat-like instincts, nor the noiseless tread of thefelidæ, nor is he fleet and long-winded like the wolf, although good at a short run, as an unlucky hunter may find. But he hangs about the flanks of a herd of buffalo, with probably an eye to a wounded or disabled animal, and he frequently raids a ranch and carries off a sheep, hog, or calf that is penned beyond the possibility of escape.
HEbear, like man, inhabits almost every latitude and every land, and has even been translated to the starry heavens, where the constellations of the Great Dipper and the Little Dipper are known to us as well as to the ancients asUrsi MajorandMinor. But North America furnishes the largest and most aggressive species in the grizzly (Ursus horribilis), the black (Ursus americanus), and the polar (Ursus maritimus) bears, and here the hunter finds his most daring sport. Of all the known plantigrades (flat-footed beasts) the grizzly is the most savage and the most dreaded, and he is the largest of all, saving the presence of his cousin the polar bear, for which, nevertheless, he is more than a match in strength and courage. Some specimens measure seven feet from tip of nose to root of tail. The distinctive marks of the species are its great size; the shortness of the tail as compared with the ears; the huge flat paws, the sole of the hind foot sometimes measuring seven and a half by five inches in a large male; the length of the hind legs as compared with the fore legs, which gives the beast his awkward, shambling gait; the long claws of the fore foot, sometimes seven inches in length, while those of the hind footmeasure only three or four; the erect, bristling mane of stiff hair, often six inches long; the coarse hair of the body, sometimes three inches long, dark at the base, but with light tips. He has a dark stripe along the back, and one along each side, the hair on his body being, as a rule, a brownish-yellow, the region around the ears dusky, the legs nearly black, and the muzzle pale. Color, however, is not a distinctive mark, for female grizzlies have been killed in company with two cubs, one of which was brown, the other gray, or one dark, the other light; and the supposed species of "cinnamon" and "brown" bears are merely color variations ofUrsus horribilishimself.
This ubiquitous gentleman has a wide range for his habitat. He has been found on the Missouri river from Fort Pierre northward, and thence west to his favorite haunts in the Rockies; on the Pacific slope clear down to the coast; as far south as Mexico, and as far north as the Great Slave Lake in British America. He not only ranges everywhere, but eats everything. His majesty is a good liver. He is not properly a beast of prey, for he has neither the cat-like instincts, nor the noiseless tread of thefelidæ, nor is he fleet and long-winded like the wolf, although good at a short run, as an unlucky hunter may find. But he hangs about the flanks of a herd of buffalo, with probably an eye to a wounded or disabled animal, and he frequently raids a ranch and carries off a sheep, hog, or calf that is penned beyond the possibility of escape.
Elk is his favorite meat, and the knowing hunter who has the good luck to kill an elk makes surethat its carcass will draw Mr. Grizzly if he is within a range of five miles. He will eat not only flesh, fish, and fowl, but roots, herbs, fruit, vegetables, honey, and insects as well. Plums, buffalo-berries, and choke-cherries make a large part of his diet in their seasons.
166
DEATH AND THE CAUSE OF IT.
The grizzly bear possesses greater vitality and tenacity of life than any other animal on the continent, and the hunter who would hunt him must be well armed and keep a steady nerve. Each shot must be cooly put where it will do the most good. Severalare frequently necessary to stop one of these savage beasts. A single bullet lodged in the brain is fatal. If shot through the heart he may run a quarter of a mile or kill a man before he succumbs. In the days of the old muzzle-loading rifle it was hazardous indeed to hunt the grizzly, and many a man has paid the penalty of his folly with his life. With our improved breech-loading and repeating rifles there is less risk.
The grizzly is said to bury carcasses of large animals for future use as food, but this I doubt. I have frequently returned to carcasses of elk or deer that I had killed and found that during my absence bears had partially destroyed them, and in their excitement, occasioned by the smell or taste of fresh meat, had pawed up the earth a good deal thereabout, throwing dirt and leaves in various directions, and some of this débris may have fallen on the bodies of the dead game; but I have never seen where any systematic attempt had been made at burying a carcass. Still, Bruin may have played the sexton in some cases. He hibernates during winter, but does not take to his long sleep until the winter has thoroughly set in and the snow is quite deep. He may frequently be tracked and found in snow a foot deep, where he is roaming in search of food. He becomes very fat before going into winter quarters, and this vast accumulation of oil furnishes nutriment and heat sufficient to sustain life during his long confinement.
The newspapers often kill grizzlies weighing 1,500, 1,800, or even 2,000 pounds, and in any party of frontiersmen "talking grizzly" you will find plentyof men who can give date and place where they killed or helped to kill at least 1,800 pounds of Bruin.
"Did you weigh it?"
"No, we didn't weigh 'im; but every man as seed 'im said he would weigh that, and they was all good jedges, too."
And this is the way most of the stories of big bear, big elk, big deer, etc., begin and end. Bears are usually, though not always, killed at considerable distances from towns, or even ranches, where it is not easy to find a scales large enough to weigh so much meat.
The largest grizzly I have ever killed would not weigh more than 700 or 800 pounds, and I do not believe one has ever lived that would weigh 1,000 pounds. The flesh of the adult grizzly is tough, stringy, and decidedly unpalatable, but that of a young fat one is tender and juicy, and is always a welcome dish on the hunter's table.
The female usually gives birth to two cubs, and sometimes three, at a time. At birth they weigh only about 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 pounds each. The grizzly breeds readily in confinement, and several litters have been produced in the Zoological Gardens at Cincinnati. The female is unusually vicious while rearing her young, and the hunter must be doubly cautious about attacking at that time. An Indian rarely attacks a grizzly single-handed at any time, and it is only when several of these native hunters are together that they will attempt to kill one. They value the claws very highly, however, and take great pride in wearing strings of them around their necks.
The grizzly usually frequents the timbered or brush-covered portions of mountainous regions, or the timbered valleys of streams that head in the mountains. He occasionally follows down the course of these streams, and even travels many miles from one stream to another, or from one range of mountains to another, across open prairie. I once found one on a broad open plateau in the Big Horn Mountains, about half a mile from the nearest cover of any kind. He was turning over rocks in search of worms. At the report of my rifle he started for the nearest cañon, but never reached it. An explosive bullet through his lungs rendered him unequal to the journey.
Few persons believe that a grizzly will attack a man before he is himself attacked. I was one of these doubting Thomases until a few years ago, when I was thoroughly convinced by ocular demonstration that some grizzlies, at least, will attempt to make a meal off a man even though he may not have harmed them previously. We were hunting in the Shoshone Mountains in Northern Wyoming. I had killed a large elk in the morning, and on going back to the carcass in the afternoon to skin it we saw that Bruin had been there ahead us, but had fled on our approach. Without the least apprehension of his return, we leaned our rifles against a tree about fifty feet away, and commenced work. There were three of us, but only two rifles, Mr. Huffman, the photographer, having left his in camp. He had finished taking views of the carcass, and we were all busily engaged skinning, when, hearing a crashing in the brush and a series of savage roars and growls, welooked up the hill, and were horrified to see three grizzly bears, an old female and two cubs about two-thirds grown, charging upon us with all the savage fury of a pack of starving wolves upon a sheepfold.
To make a long story short, we killed the old female and one cub; the other escaped into the jungle before we could get a shot at him. The resolute front we put on alone saved our lives.
In another instance, when hunting deer in Idaho, I came suddenly upon a female grizzly and two cubs, when the mother bear charged me savagely and would have killed me had I not fortunately controlled my nerves long enough to put a couple of bullets through her and stop her before she got to me.
I have heard of several other instances of grizzlies making unprovoked attacks on men, which were so well substantiated that I could not question the truth of the reports.
The grizzly is partially nocturnal in his habits, and apparently divides his labor of obtaining food and his traveling about equally between day and night. It is not definitely known to what age he lives in his wild state, but he is supposed to attain to twenty-five or thirty years. Several have lived in domestication to nearly that age, and one died in Union Park, Chicago, a few years ago, that was known to be eighteen years old.
Notwithstanding the great courage and ferocity of this formidable beast, he will utter the most pitiable groans and howls when seriously or mortally wounded.
Two brothers were prospecting in a range of mountainsnear the headwaters of the Stinking Water river. The younger of the two, though an ablebodied man, and capable of doing a good day's work with a pick or shovel, was weak-minded, and the elder brother never allowed him to go any distance away from camp or their work alone. He, however, sent him one evening to the spring, a few rods off, to bring a kettleful of water. The spring was in a deep gorge, and the trail to it wound through some fissures in the rock. As the young man passed under a shelving rock, an immense old female grizzly, that had taken up temporary quarters there, reached out and struck a powerful blow at his head, but fortunately could not reach far enough to do him any serious harm. The blow knocked his hat off, and her claws caught his scalp, and laid it open clear across the top of his head in several ugly gashes. The force of the blow sent him spinning around, and not knowing enough to be frightened, he attacked her savagely with the only weapon he had at hand—the camp kettle.
The elder brother heard the racket, and hastily catching up his rifle and hurrying to the scene of the disturbance, found his brother vigorously belaboring the bear over the head with the camp kettle, and the bear striking savage blows at him, any one of which, if she could have reached him, would have torn his head from his shoulders. Three bullets from the rifle, fired in rapid succession, loosened her hold upon the rocks, and she tumbled lifelessly into the trail. The poor idiotic boy could not even then realize the danger through which he had passed, and could only appease his anger bycontinuing to maul the bear over the head with the camp kettle for several minutes after she was dead.
Some years ago I went into the mountains with a party of friends to hunt elk. Our guide told us we should find plenty of grouse along the trail, from the day we left the settlements; that on the third day out we should find elk, and that it would therefore be useless to burden our pack-horses with meat. We accordingly took none save a small piece of bacon.
Contrary to his predictions, however, we found no grouse or other small gameen route, and soon ate up our bacon. Furthermore, we were five days in reaching the elk country, instead of three as he said. All this time we were climbing mountains and had appetites that are known only to mountain climbers. We had plenty of bread and potatoes, but these were not sufficient. We hankered for flesh, and though we filled ourselves with vegetable food, yet were we hungry.
Finally we reached our destination at midday. While we were unloading the horses, a "fool hen" came and lit in a tree near us. A rifle ball beheaded her, and almost before she was done kicking she was in the frying pan.
A negro once had a bottle of whisky, and was making vigorous efforts to get outside of it, when a chum came up and asked for a pull at it. "O, g'long, nigger," said the happy owner of the corn juice. "What's one bottle of whisky 'mong one man?" And what was one little grouse among five half-starved men? The smell and taste only made us long for more.
After dinner we all went out and hunted until dark. Soon after leaving camp some of us heard lively firing up the cañon, where our guide had gone, and felt certain that he had secured meat, for we had heard glowing accounts, from him and his friends, of his prowess as a hunter. The rest of us were not so despondent, therefore, when we returned at dusk empty handed, as we should otherwise have been, until we reached camp and found the guide there wearing a long face and bloodless hands.
He told a doleful story of having had five fair shots at a large bull elk, who stood broadside on, only seventy-five yards away, but who finally became alarmed at the fusilade and fled, leaving no blood on his trail. The guide of course anathematized his gun in the choicest terms known to frontiersmen, and our mouths watered as we thought of what might have been.
Our potatoes, having been compelled to stand for meat also, had vanished rapidly, and we ate the last of them for supper that night. Few words were spoken and no jokes cracked over that meal. We ate bread straight for breakfast, and turning out early hunted diligently all day. We were nearly famished when we returned at night and no one had seen any living thing larger than a pine squirrel. It is written that "man shall not live by bread alone," and we found that we could not much longer. And soon we should not have even that, for our flour was getting low. But we broke the steaming flat-cake again at supper, and turned in to dream of juicy steaks, succulent joints, and delicious rib roasts.
We were up before daylight to find that six or eight inches of light snow had fallen silently during the night, which lay piled up on the branches of the trees, draping the dense forests in ghostly white. Our drooping spirits revived, for we hoped that the tell-tale mantle would enable us to find the game we so much needed in our business. We broke our bread more cheerfully that morning than for two days previously, but at the council of war held over the frugal meal, decided that unless we scored that day we must make tracks for the nearest ranch the next morning, and try to make our scanty remnant of flour keep us alive until we could get there.
Breakfast over we scattered ourselves by the four points of the compass and set out. It fell to my lot to go up the cañon. Silently I strode through the forest, scanning the snow in search of foot-prints, but for an hour I could see none. Then, as I cautiously ascended a ridge, I heard a crash in the brush beyond and reached the summit just in time to see the latter end of a large bull elk disappear in the thicket.
He had not heard or seen me, but had winded me, and tarried not for better acquaintance. I followed his trail some three miles up the cañon, carefully penetrating the thickets and peering among the larger trees, but never a glimpse could I get and never a sound could I hear of him. He seemed unusually wild. I could see by his trail that he had not stopped, but had kept straight away on that long, swinging trot that is such a telling gait of the species, and which they will sometimes keep up for hours together. Finally I came to where he hadleft the cañon and ascended the mountain. I followed up this for a time, but seeing that he had not yet paused, and finding that my famished condition rendered me unequal to the climb, was compelled to abandon the pursuit and with a heavy heart return again to the cañon. I kept on up it, but could find no other game or sign of any. Like the red hunter, in the time of famine, who
"Vainly walked through the forest,Sought for bird, or beast, and found none;Saw no track of deer or rabbit,In the snow beheld no foot-prints,In the ghostly gleaming forestFell and could not rise from weakness,"
"Vainly walked through the forest,Sought for bird, or beast, and found none;Saw no track of deer or rabbit,In the snow beheld no foot-prints,In the ghostly gleaming forestFell and could not rise from weakness,"
so I trudged on until, wearied and worn out, I lay down beside a giant fir tree, whose spreading branches had kept the snow from the ground, and fell asleep. When I awoke my joints were stiff and sore, and I was chilled to the bone. It was late in the afternoon, and a quiet, drizzling rain had set in.
I found the trail that led through the cañon, and started back to camp, trudging along as rapidly as possible, for hunger was gnawing at my vitals and my strength was fast failing.
"Over snow-fields waste and pathless,Under snow-encumbered branches,Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,"
"Over snow-fields waste and pathless,Under snow-encumbered branches,Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,"
I toiled wearily on. The snow had become saturated with the rain, and great chunks of it were falling from the trees with dull, monotonous sounds. "Slush, slush," "Splash, splash," came the gloomy sounds from all parts of the woods. I was nearing camp, and had abandoned all hope of seeing game.My only object was to reach shelter, to rest, and feast on the unsatisfying bread. I heard a succession of the splashings that came from my left with such regular cadence as to cause me to look up, when, great St. Hubert! there came a huge grizzly bear shambling and splashing along through the wet snow. It was his footsteps that I had been hearing for a minute or two past, and which I had, at first, thought to be the falling snow.
He had not yet seen me, and what a marvelous change came over me! I forgot that I was tired; that I was weak; that I was hungry. The instincts of the hunter reanimated me, and I thought only of killing the grand game before me. I threw down my rifle, raising the hammer as the weapon came into position, and the click of the lock reached his ear. It was the first intimation he had of possible danger, and he stopped and threw up his head to look and listen. My thoughts came and went like flashes of lightning. I remembered then the famishing condition of myself and friends. Here was meat, and I must save it. There must be no nervousness—no wild shooting now. This shotmusttell. And there was not a tremor in all my system. Every nerve was as of steel for the instant. The little gold bead on the muzzle of the rifle instantly found the vital spot behind the bear's shoulder, gleamed through the rear sight like a spark of fire, and before he had time to realize what the strange apparition was that had so suddenly confronted him, the voice of the Winchester was echoing through the cañon and an express bullet had crashed through his vitals.
The shock was so sudden and the effect on him so deadly that he apparently thought nothing of fight, but only of seeking a place to die in peace.
He wheeled and shot into a neighboring thicket with the speed of an arrow. I fired at him again as he disappeared. He crashed through the jungle out into the open woods, turned to the right and went across a ridge as if Satan himself were after him. As the big gray mass shot through a clear space between two trees I gave him another speeder, and then he disappeared beyond a ridge.
The snow had melted rapidly and the ground was bare in places, so that I had some trouble in trailing the bear, but wherever he crossed a patch of snow his trail was bespattered with blood. I followed over the ridge and through scattering jack pines, about two hundred yards, and found him lying dead near the trail. My first and third bullets had gone in behind his shoulder only an inch apart. The first had passed clear through him, and the other had lodged against the skin on the opposite side. Several ribs were broken on either side, and his lungs and other portions of his interior were ground into sausage; yet so great was his vitality and tenacity to life that he was able to make this distance at a speed that would have taxed the best horse in the country, and if he had seen fit to attack me instead of running away he would probably have made sausage of me.
But what feasting and what revelry there was in camp that night. It was a young bear, fat as butter, and rib roasts and cutlets were devoured in quantities that would have shocked the modesty ofa tramp. Not until well into the night did we cease to eat, and wrap ourselves in our blankets. We staid several days in the cañon after that, and killed plenty of elk and other game.
The skin of the grizzly is one of the most valuable trophies a sportsman can obtain on any field, and its rarity, and the danger and excitement attending the taking of it, the courage it bespeaks on the part of the hunter, render it a prize of which the winner may justly feel proud for a lifetime.
The best localities in which to hunt the grizzly bear—that is, those most accessible and in which he is now most numerous—are the Big Horn, Shoshone, Wind River, Bear Tooth, Belt, and Crazy Mountains, in Wyoming and Montana, all of which may be easily reached by way of the Northern Pacific road.
The best time of year to hunt for this, as well as all the other species of large game in the Rocky Mountains, is in the months of September, October, and November, though in the latter month the sportsman should not venture high up into the mountains where heavy snow-falls are liable to occur. There is a great deal of bear hunting done in the summer months, but it is contrary to the laws of nature, and should not be indulged in by any true sportsman. The skins are nearly worthless then, while in the autumn they are prime; the heat is oppressive, and the flies and mosquitoes are great pests.
The best arm for this class of game is a repeating rifle of large calibre, 45 or 50, carrying a largecharge of powder and a solid bullet. The new Winchester express, 50/110, with solid ball, is perhaps the best in the market, all things considered.
There are several methods of hunting the grizzly, the most common being to kill an elk, and then watch the carcass. Shots may frequently be obtained in this way early in the morning or late in the evening, and on bright moonlight nights it is best to watch all night, for the immense size of the grizzly renders him an easy target at short range even by moonlight. Another method is to still-hunt him, the same as is done with deer. This is perhaps the most sportsmanlike of all, and if a coulee or creek bottom be selected where there are plenty of berries, or an open, hilly, rocky country, where the bears are in the habit of hunting for worms, or any good feeding-ground where bear signs are plentiful, and due care and caution be exercised, there is as good a chance of success as by any other method. Many hunters set guns with a cord running from the trigger to a bait of fresh meat, and the muzzle of the gun pointing at the meat; others set large steel traps or deadfalls. But such contrivances are never used by true sportsmen.
Game of any kind should always be pursued in a fair, manly manner, and given due chance to preserve its life if it is skillful enough to do so. If captured, let it be by the superior skill, sagacity, or endurance of the sportsman, not by traps which close on it as it innocently and unsuspectingly seeks its food.
Grizzly bear hunting is unquestionably the grandest sport that our continent affords. The grizzlyis the only really dangerous game we have, and the decidedly hazardous character of the sport is what gives it its greatest zest, and renders it the most fascinating of pursuits. Many sportsmen proclaim the superiority of their favorite pastime over all other kinds, be it quail, grouse, or duck shooting, fox-chasing, deer-stalking, or what not; and each has its charm, more or less intense, according to its nature; but no man ever felt his heart swell with pride, his nerves tingle with animation, his whole system glow with wild, uncontrollable enthusiasm, at the bagging of any bird or small animal, as does the man who stands over the prostrate form of a monster grizzly that he has slain. Let the devotee of these other classes of sport try bear hunting, and when he has bagged his first grizzly, then let him talk!
180
ELK HUNTING IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.
Fall the large game on the American continent, the elk (Cervus canadensis) is the noblest, the grandest, the stateliest. I would detract nothing from the noble game qualities of the moose, caribou, deer, or mountain sheep. Each has its peculiar points of excellence which endear it to the heart of the sportsman, but the elk possesses more than any of the others. In size he towers far above all, except the moose. In sagacity, caution, cunning, and wariness he is the peer, if not the superior, of them all. He is always on the alert, his keen scent, his piercing eye, his acute sense of hearing, combining to render him a vigilant sentinel of his own safety.His great size and powerful muscular construction give him almost unbounded endurance. When alarmed or pursued he will travel for twenty or thirty hours, at a rapid swinging trot, without stopping for food or rest. He is a proud, fearless ranger, and even when simply migrating from one range of mountains to another, will travel from seventy-five to a hundred miles without lying down. He is a marvelous mountaineer, and, considering hisimmense size and weight, often ascends to heights that seem incredible. He may often be found away up to timber line, and will traverse narrow passes and defiles, climbing over walls of rock and through fissures where it would seem impossible for so large an animal, with such massive antlers as he carries, to go. He chooses his route, however, with rare good judgment, and all mountaineers know that an elk trail is the best that can possibly be selected over any given section of mountainous country. His faculty of traversing dense jungles and windfalls is equally astonishing. If given his own time, he will move quietly and easily through the worst of these, leaping over logs higher than his back as gracefully and almost as lightly as the deer; yet let a herd of elk be alarmed and start on a run through one of these labyrinthine masses, and they will make a noise like a regiment of cavalry on a precipitous charge.I have stood on the margin of a quaking-asp thicket and heard a large band of elk coming toward me that had been "jumped" and fired upon by my friend at the other side, and the frightful noise of their horns pounding the trees, their hoofs striking each other and the numerous rocks, the crashing of dead branches, with the snorting of the affrighted beasts, might well have struck terror to the heart of anyone unused to such sights and sounds, and have caused him to seek safety in flight. But by standing my ground I was enabled to get in a couple of shots at short range, and to bring down two of the finest animals in the herd.
Fall the large game on the American continent, the elk (Cervus canadensis) is the noblest, the grandest, the stateliest. I would detract nothing from the noble game qualities of the moose, caribou, deer, or mountain sheep. Each has its peculiar points of excellence which endear it to the heart of the sportsman, but the elk possesses more than any of the others. In size he towers far above all, except the moose. In sagacity, caution, cunning, and wariness he is the peer, if not the superior, of them all. He is always on the alert, his keen scent, his piercing eye, his acute sense of hearing, combining to render him a vigilant sentinel of his own safety.
His great size and powerful muscular construction give him almost unbounded endurance. When alarmed or pursued he will travel for twenty or thirty hours, at a rapid swinging trot, without stopping for food or rest. He is a proud, fearless ranger, and even when simply migrating from one range of mountains to another, will travel from seventy-five to a hundred miles without lying down. He is a marvelous mountaineer, and, considering hisimmense size and weight, often ascends to heights that seem incredible. He may often be found away up to timber line, and will traverse narrow passes and defiles, climbing over walls of rock and through fissures where it would seem impossible for so large an animal, with such massive antlers as he carries, to go. He chooses his route, however, with rare good judgment, and all mountaineers know that an elk trail is the best that can possibly be selected over any given section of mountainous country. His faculty of traversing dense jungles and windfalls is equally astonishing. If given his own time, he will move quietly and easily through the worst of these, leaping over logs higher than his back as gracefully and almost as lightly as the deer; yet let a herd of elk be alarmed and start on a run through one of these labyrinthine masses, and they will make a noise like a regiment of cavalry on a precipitous charge.
I have stood on the margin of a quaking-asp thicket and heard a large band of elk coming toward me that had been "jumped" and fired upon by my friend at the other side, and the frightful noise of their horns pounding the trees, their hoofs striking each other and the numerous rocks, the crashing of dead branches, with the snorting of the affrighted beasts, might well have struck terror to the heart of anyone unused to such sights and sounds, and have caused him to seek safety in flight. But by standing my ground I was enabled to get in a couple of shots at short range, and to bring down two of the finest animals in the herd.
The whistle of the elk is a sound which manyhave tried to describe, yet I doubt if anyone who may have read all the descriptions of it ever written would recognize it on a first hearing. It is a most strange, weird, peculiar sound, baffling all efforts of the most skillful word-painter. It is only uttered by the male, and there is the same variety in the sound made by different stags as in different human voices. Usually the cry begins and ends with a sort of grunt, somewhat like the bellow of a domestic cow cut short, but the interlude is a long-drawn, melodious, flutelike sound that rises and falls with a rhythmical cadence, floating on the still evening air, by which it is often wafted with singular distinctness to great distances. By other individuals, or even by the same individual at various times, either the first or last of these abrupt sounds is omitted, and only the other, in connection with the long-drawn, silver-toned strain, is given.
The stag utters this call only in the love-making season, and for the purpose of ascertaining the whereabouts of his dusky mate, who responds by a short and utterly unmusical sound, similar to that with which the male begins or ends his call.
Once, when exploring in Idaho, I had an interesting and exciting experience with a band of elk. I had camped for the night on a high divide, between two branches of the Clearwater river. The weather had been intensely dry and hot for several days, and the tall rye grass that grew in the old burn where I had pitched my camp was dry as powder. There was a gentle breeze from the south. Fearing that a spark might be carried into the grass, I extinguished my camp-fire as soon as I had cooked and eaten mysupper. As darkness drew on, I went out to picket my horses and noticed that they were acting strangely. They were looking down the mountain side with ears pointed forward, sniffing the air and moving about uneasily.
184
THEWAPITI, OR AMERICAN ELK.
I gave their picket ropes a turn around convenient jack pines, and then slipping cautiously back to the tent, got my rifle and returned. I could see nothing strange and sat down beside a log to await developments. In a few minutes I heard a dead limb break. Then there was a rustling in a bunch of tall, dry grass; more snapping of twigs and shaking of bushes. I ascertained that there were several large animals moving toward me and feared it might be a family of bears. I feared it, I say, because it was now so dark that I could not see to shoot at any distance, and knew that if bears came near the horses the latter would break their ropes and stampede. I thought of shouting and trying to frighten them off, but decided to await developments. Presently I heard a snapping of hoofs and a succession of dull, heavy, thumping noises, accompanied by reports of breaking brush, which I knew at once were made by a band of elk jumping over a high log.
The game was now not more than fifty yards away and in open ground, yet I could not see even a movement, for I was looking down toward a dark cañon, many hundreds of feet deep. Slowly the great beasts worked toward me. They were coming down wind and I felt sure could not scent me, but they could evidently see my horses, outlined against the sky, and had doubtless heard them snorting and moving about.
The ponies grew more anxious but less frightened than at first, and seemed now desirous of making the acquaintance of their wild visitors.
Slowly the elk moved forward until within thirty or forty feet of me, when I could begin to discern by the starlight their dark, shaggy forms. Then they stopped. I could hear them sniffing the air and could see them moving cautiously from place to place, apparently suspicious of danger. But they were coming down wind, could get no indication of my presence, and were anxious to interview the horses.
They moved slowly forward, and when they stopped this time, two old bulls and one cow, who were in the front rank, so to speak, stood within ten feet of me. Their great horns towered up like the branches of dead trees, and I could hear them breathe.
Again they circled from side to side and I thought surely they would get far enough to one quarter or the other to wind me, but they did not. Several other cows and two timid little calves crowded to the front to look at their hornless cousins who now stood close behind me, and even in the starlight, I could have shot any one of them between the eyes.
My saddle cayuse uttered a low gentle whinny, whereat the whole band wheeled and dashed away; but after making a few leaps their momentary scare seemed to subside, and they stopped, looked, snorted a few times and then began to edge up again—this time even more shyly than before.
It was intensely interesting to study the caution and circumspection with which these creaturesplanned and carried out their investigation all the way through.
The only mistake they made, and one at which I was surprised, considering their usual cunning and sagacity, was that some of them at least did not circle the horses and get to the leeward. But they were in such a wild country, so far back in the remote fastnesses of the Rockies, that they had probably never encountered hunters or horses before and had not acquired all the cunning of their more hunted and haunted brothers. After their temporary scare they returned, step by step, to their investigation, and the largest bull in the bunch approached the very log behind which I sat. He was just in the act of stepping over it when he caught a whiff of my breath and, with a terrific snort, vaulted backward and sidewise certainly thirty feet. At the same instant I rose up and shouted, and the whole band went tearing down the mountain side making a racket like that of an avalanche.
As before stated, I could have had my choice out of the herd, but my only pack-horse was loaded so that I could have carried but a small piece of meat, and was unwilling to waste so grand a creature for the little I could save from him.
The antlers of the bull elk grow to a great size. He sheds them in February of each year. The new horn begins to grow in April. During the summer it is soft and pulpy and is covered with a fine velvety growth of hair; it matures and hardens in August; early in September he rubs this velvet off and is then ready to try conclusions with any rival that comes inhis way. The rutting season over, he has no further use for his antlers until the next autumn, and they drop off. Thus the process is repeated, year after year, as regularly as the leaves grow and fall from the trees. But it seems a strange provision of nature that should load an animal with sixty to seventy-five pounds of horns, for half the year, when weapons of one-quarter the size and weight would be equally effective if all were armed alike.
I have in my collection the head of a bull elk, killed in the Shoshone Mountains, in Northern Wyoming, the antlers of which measure as follows:
Length of main beam, 4 feet 8 inches; length of brow tine, 1 foot 6-1/2 inches; length of bes tine, 1 foot 8-1/2 inches; length of royal tine, 1 foot 7 inches; length of surroyal, 1 foot 8-1/2 inches: circumference around burr, 1 foot 3-1/4 inches; circumference around beam above burr, 12 inches; circumference of brow tine at base, 7-1/2 inches; spread of main beams at tips, 4 feet 9 inches. They are one of the largest and finest pairs of antlers of which I have any knowledge. The animal when killed would have weighed nearly a thousand pounds.
The elk is strictly gregarious, and in winter time, especially, the animals gather into large bands, and a few years ago herds of from five hundred to a thousand were not uncommon. Now, however, their numbers have been so far reduced by the ravages of "skin hunters" and others that one will rarely find more than twenty-five or thirty in a band.
In the fall of 1879, a party of three men were sight-seeing and hunting in the Yellowstone National Park, and having prolonged their stay untillate in October, were overtaken by a terrible snowstorm, which completely blockaded and obliterated all the trails, and filled the gulches, cañons, and coulees to such a depth that their horses could not travel over them at all. They had lain in camp three days waiting for the storm to abate; but as it continued to grow in severity, and as the snow became deeper and deeper, their situation grew daily and hourly more alarming. Their stock of provisions was low, they had no shelter sufficient to withstand the rigors of a winter at that high altitude, and it was fast becoming a question whether they should ever be able to escape beyond the snow-clad peaks and snow-filled cañons with which they were hemmed in. Their only hope of escape was by abandoning their horses, and constructing snow-shoes which might keep them above the snow; but in this case they could not carry bedding and food enough to last them throughout the several days that the journey would occupy to the nearest ranch, and the chances of killing gameen routeafter the severe weather had set in were extremely precarious. They had already set about making snow-shoes from the skin of an elk which they had saved. One pair had been completed, and the storm having abated, one of the party set out to look over the surrounding country for the most feasible route by which to get out, and also to try if possible to find game of some kind. He had gone about a mile toward the northeast when he came upon the fresh trail of a large band of elk that were moving toward the east. He followed, and in a short time came up with them. They were traveling in single file, ledby a powerful old bull, who wallowed through snow in which only his head and neck were visible, with all the patience and perseverance of a faithful old ox. The others followed him—the stronger ones in front and the weaker ones bringing up the rear. There were thirty-seven in the band, and by the time they had all walked in the same line they left it an open, well-beaten trail. The hunter approached within a few yards of them. They were greatly alarmed when they saw him, and made a few bounds in various directions; but seeing their struggles were in vain, they meekly submitted to what seemed their impending fate, and fell back in rear of their file-leader. This would have been the golden opportunity of a skin hunter, who could and would have shot them all down in their tracks from a single stand. But such was not the mission of our friend. He saw in this noble, struggling band a means of deliverance from what had threatened to be a wintry grave for him and his companions. He did not fire a shot, and did not in any way create unnecessary alarm amongst the elk, but hurried back to camp and reported to his friends what he had seen.
In a moment the camp was a scene of activity and excitement. Tent, bedding, provisions, everything that was absolutely necessary to their journey, were hurriedly packed upon their pack animals; saddles were placed, rifles were slung to the saddles, and leaving all surplus baggage, such as trophies of their hunt, mineral specimens and curios of various kinds, for future comers, they started for the elk trail. They had a slow, tedious, and laborious task, breaking a way through the deep snow to reach it,but by walking and leading their saddle animals ahead, the pack animals were able to follow slowly. Finally they reached the trail of the elk herd, and following this, after nine days of tedious and painful traveling, the party arrived at a ranch on the Stinking Water river, which was kept by a "squaw man" and his wife, where they were enabled to lodge and recruit themselves and their stock, and whence they finally reached their homes in safety. The band of elk passed on down the river, and our tourists never saw them again; but they have doubtless long ere this all fallen a prey to the ruthless war that is constantly being waged against them by hunters white and red.
It is sad to think that such a noble creature as the American elk is doomed to early and absolute extinction, but such is nevertheless the fact. Year by year his mountain habitat is being surrounded and encroached upon by the advancing line of settlements, as the fisherman encircles the struggling mass of fishes in the clear pond with his long and closely-meshed net. The lines are drawn closer and closer each year. These lines are the ranches of cattle and sheep raisers, the cabins and towns of miners, the stations and residences of employés of the railroads. All these places are made the shelters and temporary abiding places of Eastern and foreign sportsmen who go out to the mountains to hunt. Worse than this, they are made the permanent abiding places, and constitute the active and convenient markets of the nefarious and unconscionable skin hunter and meat hunter. Here he can find a ready market for the meats and skins hebrings in, and an opportunity to spend the proceeds of such outrageous traffic in ranch whisky and revelry. The ranchmen themselves hunt and lay in their stock of meat for the year when the game comes down into the valleys. The Indians, when they have eaten up their Government rations, lie in wait for the elk in the same manner. So that when the first great snows of the autumn or winter fall in the high ranges, when the elk band together and seek refuge in the valleys, as did the herd that our fortunate tourists followed out, they find a mixed and hungry horde waiting for them at the mouth of every cañon. Before they have reached the valley where the snow-fall is light enough to allow them to live through the winter their skins are drying in the neighboring "shacks."