192WORK OF THE EXTERMINATORS.This unequal, one-sided warfare, this ruthless slaughter of inoffensive creatures, can not last always. Indeed, it can last but little longer. In ranges where only a few years ago herds of four or five hundred elk could be found, the hunter of to-day considers himself in rare luck when he finds a band of ten or twelve, and even small bands of any number are so rare that a good hunter may often hunt a week in the best elk country to be found anywhere without getting a single shot. All the Territories have good, wholesome game-laws which forbid the killing of game animals except during two or three months in the fall; but these laws are not enforced. They are a dead letter on the statute-books, and the illegal and illegitimate slaughter goes on unchecked.CHAPTER XXIII.ANTELOPE HUNTING IN MONTANA.Fall the numerous species of large game to be found in the far West, there is none whose pursuit furnishes grander sport to the expert rifleman than the antelope (Antilocapra americana). His habitat being the high, open plains, he may be hunted on horseback, and with a much greater degree of comfort than may the deer, elk, bear, and other species which inhabit the wooded or mountainous districts. His keen eyesight, his fine sense of smell, his intense fear of his natural enemy, man, however, render him the most difficult of all game animals to approach, and he must indeed be a skillful hunter who can get within easy rifle range of the antelope, unless he happens to have the circumstances of wind and lie of ground peculiarly in his favor. When the game is first sighted, even though it be one, two, or three miles away, you must either dismount and picket your horse, or find cover in some coulee or draw, where you can ride entirely out of sight of the quarry. But even under such favorable circumstances it is not well to attempt to ride very near them. Their sense of hearing is also very acute, and should your horse's hoof or shoe strike a loose rock, or should hesnort or neigh, the game is likely to catch the sound while you are yet entirely out of sight and faraway, and when you finally creep cautiously to the top of the ridge from which you expect a favorable shot, you may find the game placidly looking for you from the top of another ridge a mile or two farther away.But we will hope that you are to have better luck than this. To start with, we will presume that you are an expert rifleman; that you are in the habit of making good scores at the butts; that at 800, 900, and 1,000 yards you frequently score 200 to 210 out of a possible 225 points. We will also suppose that you are a hunter of some experience; that you have at least killed a good many deer in the States, but that this is your first trip to the plains. You have learned to estimate distances, however, even in this rare atmosphere, and possess good judgment as to windage. You have brought your Creedmoor rifle along, divested, of course, of its Venier sight, wind-guage, and spirit-level, and in their places you have fitted a Beach combination front sight and Lyman rear sight. Besides these you have the ordinary open step sight attached to the barrel just in front of the action. This is not the best arm for antelope hunting; a Winchester express with the same sights would be much better; but this will answer very well.We camped last night on the bank of a clear, rapid stream that gurgles down from the mountain, and this morning are up long before daylight; have eaten our breakfasts, saddled our horses, and just as the gray of dawn begins to show over the low, flat prairie to the east of us, wemount, and are ready for the start. The wind is from the northeast. That suits us very well, for in that direction, about a mile away, there are some low foot-hills that skirt the valley in which we are camped. In or just beyond these we are very likely to find antelope, and they will probably be coming toward the creek this morning for water.We put spurs to our horses and gallop away. A brisk and exhilarating ride of ten minutes brings us to the foot-hills, and then we rein up and ride slowly and cautiously to near the top of the first one. Here we dismount, and, picketing our ponies, we crawl slowly and carefully to the apex. By this time it is almost fully daylight. We remove our hats, and peer cautiously through the short, scattering grass on the brow of the hill.Do you see anything?No; nothing but prairie and grass.No? Hold! What are those small, gray objects away off yonder to the left? I think I saw one of them move. And now, as the light grows stronger, I can see white patches on them. Yes, they are antelope. They are busily feeding, and we may raise our heads slightly and get a more favorable view. One, two, three—there are five of them—two bucks, a doe, and two kids. And you will observe that they are nearly in the centre of a broad stretch of table-land."But," you say, "may we not wait here a little while until they come nearer to us?"Hardly. You see they are intent on getting their breakfast. There is a heavy frost on the grass, which moistens it sufficiently for present purposes,and it may be an hour or more before they will start for water. It won't pay us to wait so long, for we shall most likely find others within that time that we can get within range of without waiting for them. So you may as well try them from here.Now your experience at the butts may serve you a good turn. After taking a careful look over the ground, you estimate the distance at 850 yards, and setting up your Beach front and Lyman rear sights, you make the necessary elevation. There is a brisk wind blowing from the right, and you think it necessary to hold off about three feet. We are now both lying prone upon the ground. You face the game, and support your rifle at your shoulder by resting your elbows on the ground. The sun is now shining brightly, and you take careful aim at that old buck that stands out there at the left. At the report of your rifle a cloud of dust rises from a point about a hundred yards this side of him, and a little to the left, showing that you have underestimated both the distance and the force of the wind—things that even an old hunter is liable to do occasionally.We both lie close, and the animals have not yet seen us. They make a few jumps, and stop all in a bunch. The cross-wind and long distance prevent them from knowing to a certainty where the report comes from, and they don't like to run just yet, lest they may run toward the danger instead of away from it. You make another half-point of elevation, hold a little farther away to the right, and try them again. This time the dirt rises about twenty feet beyond them, and they jump in every direction. That was certainly a close call, and the bullet evidentlywhistled uncomfortably close to several of them. They are now thoroughly frightened. You insert another cartridge, hurriedly draw a bead on the largest buck again, and fire. You break dirt just beyond him, and we can't tell for the life of us how or on which side of him your bullet passed. It is astonishing how much vacant space there is round an antelope, anyway. This time they go, sure. They have located the puff of smoke, and are gone with the speed of the wind away to the west. But don't be discouraged, my friend. You did some clever shooting, someveryclever shooting, and a little practice of that kind will enable you to score before night.We go back to our horses, mount, and gallop away again across the table-land. A ride of another mile brings us to the northern margin of this plateau, and to a more broken country. Here we dismount and picket our horses again. We ascend a high butte, and from the top of it we can see three more antelope about a mile to the north of us; but this time they are in a hilly, broken country, and the wind is coming directly from them to us. We shall be able to get a shot at them at short range. So we cautiously back down out of sight, and then begins the tedious process of stalking them. We walk briskly along around the foot of a hill for a quarter of a mile, to where it makes a turn that would carry us too far out of our course. We must cross this hill, and after looking carefully at the shape and location of it, we at last find a low point in it where by lying flat down we can crawl over it without revealing ourselves to the game. It is a most tedious and painfulpiece of work, for the ground is almost covered with cactus and sharp flinty rocks, and our hands and knees are terribly lacerated. But every rose has its thorn, and nearly every kind of sport has something unpleasant connected with it occasionally; and our reward, if we get it, will be worth the pain it costs us. With such reflections and comments, and with frequent longing looks at the game, we kill time till at last the critical part of our work is done, and wecan arise and descend in a comfortable but cautious walk into another draw.199A PORTRAIT.This we follow for about two hundred yards, until we think we are as near our quarry as we can get. We turn to the right, cautiously ascend the hill, remove our hats, and peer over, and there, sure enough, are our antelope quietly grazing, utterly oblivious to the danger that threatens them. They have not seen, heard, or scented us, so we have ample time to plan an attack. You take the standing shot at the buck, and together we will try and take care of the two does afterward. At this short distance you don't care for the peep and globe sights, and wisely decide to use the plain open ones. This time you simply kneel, and then edge up until you can get a good clear aim over the apex of the ridge in this position. The buck stands broadside to you, and at the crack of your rifle springs into the air, and falls all in a heap, pierced through the heart.And now for the two does. They are flying over the level stretch of prairie with the speed of an arrow, and are almost out of sure range now. You turn loose on that one on the right, and I will look after the one on the left. Our rifles crack together, and little clouds of dust rising just beyond tell us that, though we have both missed, we have made close calls. I put in about three shots to your one, owing to my rifle being a repeater, while you must load yours at each shot. At my fourth shot my left-fielder doubles up and goes down with a broken neck; and although you have fairly "set the ground afire"—to use a Western phrase—around yourright-fielder, you have not had the good fortune to stop her, and she is now out of sight behind a low ridge.But you have the better animal of the two, and have had sport enough for the first morning. We will take the entrails out of these two, lash them across our horses behind our saddles, go to camp, and rest through the heat of the day; for this September sun beams down with great power in midday, even though the nights are cool and frosty.And now, as we have quite a long ride to camp, and as we are to pass over a rather monotonous prairie countryen route, I will give you a point or two on flagging antelope, as we ride along, that may be useful to you at some time. Fine sport may frequently be enjoyed in this way. If you can find a band that have not been hunted much, and are not familiar with the wiles of the white man, you will have little trouble in decoying them within rifle range by displaying to them almost any brightly-colored object. They have as much curiosity as a woman, and will run into all kinds of danger to investigate any strange object they may discover. They have been known to follow an emigrant or freight wagon, with a white cover, several miles, and the Indian often brings them within reach of his arrow or bullet by standing in plain view wrapped in his red blanket. A piece of bright tin or a mirror answers the same purpose on a clear day. Almost any conspicuous or strange-looking object will attract them; but the most convenient as well as the most reliable at all times is a little bright-red flag.On one occasion I was hunting in the Snowy Mountains,in Northern Montana, with S. K. Fishel, the government scout, and Richard Thomas, the packer, from Fort Maginnis. We had not been successful in finding game there, and on our way back to the post camped two days on the head of Flat Willow creek, near the foot of the mountains, to hunt antelopes. As night approached several small bands of them came toward the creek, but none came within range of our camp during daylight, and we did not go after them that night, but were up and at them betimes the next morning.I preferred to hunt alone, as I always do when after big game, and went out across a level flat to some low hills north of camp. When I ascended the first of these I saw a handsome buck antelope on the prairie half a mile away. I made a long detour to get to leeward of him, and meantime had great difficulty in keeping him from seeing me. But by careful maneuvering I finally got into a draw below him, and found the wind blowing directly from him to me. In his neighborhood were some large, ragged volcanic rocks, and getting in line with one of these I started to stalk him. He was feeding, and as I moved cautiously forward I could frequently see his nose or rump show up at one side or the other of the rock. I would accordingly glide to right or left, as necessary, and move on. Finally, I succeeded in reaching the rock, crawled carefully up to where I could see over it, and there, sure enough, stood the handsome old fellow not more than fifty yards away, still complacently nipping the bunch-grass."Ah, my fine laddie," I said to myself, "you'llnever know what hurt you;" and resting the muzzle of the rifle on the rock, I took a fine, steady aim for his heart and turned the bullet loose. There was a terrific roar; the lead tore up a cloud of dust and went screaming away over the hills, while, to my utter astonishment, the antelope went sailing across the prairie with the speed of a greyhound. I sprang to my feet, pumped lead after him at a lively rate, and, though I tore the ground up all around him, never touched a hair. And what annoyed me most was that, owing to some peculiar condition of the atmosphere, the smoke of each shot hung in front of me long enough to prevent me from seeing just where my bullets struck, and, for the life of me, I could not tell whether I was shooting over or under the game!I went back over the hill to my horse, with my heart full of disappointment and my magazine only half full of cartridges. I loaded up, however, mounted, and, as I rode away in search of more game, I could occasionally hear the almost whispered "puff, puff" of Fishel's and Thomas's rifles away to the south and west, which brought me the cheering assurance that they were also having fun, and also assured me that we should not be without meat for supper and breakfast.I soon sighted a band of about thirty antelopes, and riding into a coulee dismounted, picketed my horse, and began another crawl. In due time I reached the desired "stand," within about eighty yards of them, and, picking out the finest buck in the bunch, again took a careful, deliberate aim and fired, scoring another clear miss. The band,instead of running away, turned and ran directly toward me, and, circling, slightly, passed within thirty yards of me, drawn out in single file. It was a golden opportunity and I felt sure I should kill half a dozen of them at least; but, alas! for fleeting hopes. I knew not the frailty of the support on which I built my expectations. I fanned them as long as there was a cartridge in my magazine, and had to endure the intense chagrin of seeing the last one of them go over a ridge a mile away safe and sound.I was dumb. If there had been anyone there to talk to, I don't think I could have found a word in the language to express my feelings. As before, the smoke prevented me from seeing just where my bullets struck the ground, but I felt sure they must be striking very close to the game. I sat down, pondered, and examined my rifle. I could see nothing wrong with it, and felt sure it must be perfect, for within the past week I had killed a deer with it at 170 yards and had shaved the heads off a dozen grouse at short range. I was, therefore, forced to the conclusion that I had merely failed to exercise proper care in holding. I returned to my horse, mounted, and once more set out in search of game, determined to kill the next animal I shot at or leave the country.I rode away to the west about two miles, and from the top of a high hill saw another band of forty or fifty antelopes on a table-land. I rode around till I got within about two hundred yards of them, when I left my horse under cover of a hill and again began to sneak on the unsuspecting little creatures.They were near the edge of the table, and from just beyond them the formation fell abruptly away into the valley some fifty feet. I crawled up this bluff until within about forty yards of the nearest antelope, and then, lying flat upon the ground, I placed my rifle in position for firing, and, inch by inch, edged up over the apex of the bluff until within fair view of the game. Again selecting the best buck—for I wanted a good head for mounting—I drew down on his brown side until I felt sure that if there had been a silver dollar hung on it I could have driven it through him. Confidently expecting to see him drop in his tracks, I touched the trigger. But, alas! I was doomed to still further disgrace. When the smoke lifted, my coveted prize was speeding away with the rest of the herd.I simply stood, with my lower jaw hanging down, and looked after them till they were out of sight. Then I went and got my horse and went to camp. Sam and Dick were there with the saddles of three antelopes. When I told them what I had been doing, they tried to console me, but I wouldn't be consoled. After dinner, Sam picked up my rifle and looked it over carefully."Why, look here, you blooming idiot," said he. "No wonder you couldn't kill at short range. The wedge has slipped up under your rear sight two notches. She's elevated for 350 yards, and at that rate would shoot about a foot high at a hundred yards." I looked and found it even so. Then I offered him and Dick a dollar each if they would kick me, but they wouldn't.Sam said good-naturedly: "Come, go with meand get the head of the buck I killed. It's a very handsome one, and only two miles from camp."I said I didn't want any heads for my own use unless I could kill their owners myself, but would take this one home for a friend, so we saddled our horses and started.As we reached the top of a hill about a mile from camp a large buck that was grazing ahead of us jumped and ran away to what he seemed to consider a safe distance, and stopped to look at us. Sam generously offered me the shot, and springing out of my saddle I threw down my rifle, took careful aim and fired. At the crack the buck turned just half way round, but was unable to make a single jump and sank dead in his tracks.Sam is ordinarily a quiet man, but he fairly shouted at the result of my shot. I paced the distance carefully to where the carcass lay, and it was exactly 290 steps. The buck was standing broadside to me and I had shot him through the heart. Of course, it was a scratch. I could not do it again perhaps in twenty shots, and yet when I considered that I shot for one single animal and got him I could not help feeling a little proud of it. As we approached the animal, not knowing just where I had hit him, I held my rifle in readiness, but Sam said:"Oh, you needn't be afraid of his getting up. One of those Winchester express bullets is all an antelope needs, no matter what part of the body you hit him in."This old fellow had a fine head, and we took it off, and now as I write it gazes down upon me with those large, lustrous black eyes, from its place onthe wall, as proudly and curiously as it did there on the prairie when I looked at it through the sights of my Winchester. His portrait adorns page 199 of this book, and though the artist has treated it with a master's hand, it does not possess the lordly beaming, the fascinating grace, the timid beauty that distinguished the living animal.It was so late when we got this one dressed that we decided to return to camp at once.The curiosity which is so prominent a feature in the antelope's nature costs many a one of them his life, and is taken advantage of by the hunter in various ways. When we reached camp that afternoon Dick told us how he had taken advantage of it. He had seen a small band on a level stretch of prairie where there was no possible way of getting within range of them, and having heard that if a man would lie down on his back, elevate his feet as high as possible, and swing them back and forth through the air, that it would attract antelopes, decided to try it. But the antelopes of this section had evidently never seen soap boxes or bales of hay floating through the air, and had no desire to cultivate a closer acquaintance with such frightful looking objects as he exhibited to their astonished gaze. And Dick said that when he turned to see if they had yet come within shooting distance they were about a mile away, and judging from the cloud of dust they were leaving behind them seemed to be running a race to see which could get out of the country first.The next morning Sam and I went together and Dick alone in another direction. During the forenoonI shot a buck through both fore legs, cutting one off clean and paralyzing the other. Sam said not to shoot him again and he would catch him, and putting spurs to his horse was soon galloping alongside of the quarry. He caught him by one horn and held him until I came up. The little fellow pranced wildly about, and bleated pitifully, but a stroke of the hunting knife across his throat soon relieved his suffering.We then got the head from the buck Sam had killed the day before, and returned to camp about 11 o'clock a. m.In the afternoon we rode out together again, and had not gone far when we saw five of the bright little animals we were hunting on a hill-side. They were too far away for anything like a sure shot, but were in such a position that we could get no nearer to them. They stood looking at us, and Sam told me to try them. I had little hope of making a hit, but dismounting took a shot off hand, holding for the shoulder of a good sized buck. When the gun cracked there was a circus. I had missed my aim so far as to cut both his hind legs off just below the knee. The buck commenced bucking. First he stood on his fore feet, got his hind legs up in the air and shook the stumps. Then he tried to stand on them and paw the air with his fore feet, but lost his balance and fell over backward. He got up, jumped first to one side, then to the other, then forward. Meantime Sam rode toward him, and he tried to run. In this his motions were more like those of a rocking horse than of a living animal. The race was a short one. Sam soon rode up to him, caught himby a horn and held him till I came up and cut the little fellow's throat. Then Sam said that was a very long shot, and he would like to know just what the distance was. He went back to where I stood when I shot, stepped the distance to where the antelope stood, and found it to be 362 paces.We rode on a mile further and saw a young antelope lying down in some tall rye-grass. We could just see his horns and ears, and though he appeared to be looking at us he seemed to think himself securely hidden, for he made no movement toward getting up. I told Sam to shoot this time, but he said, "No, you shoot. I live in this country and can get all the shooting I want any time. You have come a long way out here to have some fun. Turn loose on him." And slipping off my horse I knelt down to get a knee rest, but found that from that position I could not see the game at all, and was compelled to shoot off hand again. Raising up I drew a bead on one of the horns, and then lowering the muzzle to where I thought the body should be, pressed the trigger. There was a lively commotion in the grass, but the buck never got out of his bed. The ball went in at one shoulder and out at the opposite hip. On stepping the distance we found it to be only 125 yards.And now, having in a measure wiped out the disgrace of the previous day's work and secured all the meat, skins, and heads that our pack-mules could carry, we returned to camp and the next day went back to Fort Maginnis.These bright little creatures, though naturally timid, sometimes show great courage in defense oftheir young. I once saw a coyote sneak from behind a hill toward a herd of antelope. Instantly there was a grand rush of all the adult members of the band, male and female, toward the intruder, and when they had gotten in front of the kids they stopped, with bristles erect, ears thrown forward, and heads lowered, presenting a most warlike and belligerent appearance. The coyote, when he saw himself confronted with this solid phalanx, suddenly stopped, eyed his opponents for a few moments, and then, apparently overawed at the superiority of numbers and warlike attitude of his intended prey, slunk reluctantly away in search of some weaker victim. When he was well out of sight, the older members of the band turned to their young, caressed them, and resumed their grazing.The speed of the antelope is probably not excelled by that of any other animal in this country, wild or domestic, except the greyhound, and, in fact, it is only the finest and fleetest of these that can pull down an antelope in a fair race.In the little village of Garfield, Kansas, there lived a man some years ago—the proprietor of a hotel—who had two pet antelopes. The village dogs had several times chased them, but had always been distanced. One day a Mexican came to town who had with him two large, handsome greyhounds. Immediately on riding up to the hotel he saw the antelopes in the yard, and told the proprietor gruffly that he had better put "them critters" in the corral, or his dogs would kill them. The proprietor said he guessed the "critters" were able to take care of themselves, especially if the dogs did not springupon them unawares. This aroused the Mexican's ire, and he promptly offered to wager a goodly sum that his dogs would pull down one or both of the antelopes within a mile. The challenge was accepted, the stakes deposited, the antelopes turned into the street, and the "greaser" told his dogs to "take'em."The dogs sprang at the antelopes, but the latter had by this time reached a vacant lot across the street. They started off down the river. For a distance of four miles the river bottom was an open prairie, and as level as a floor. As the quartette sped over this grand natural race-course, the whole populace of the town turned outen masseto see the race. Men and boys shouted, and ladies waved their handkerchiefs. Betting was rife, the natives offering two to one on the antelopes, the Mexican and the few other strangers in town being eager takers. It was nip and tuck, neither animals gaining nor losing perceptibly, and when at last the four went round a bend in the river four miles away, and were hidden by a bluff, the game was, as nearly as could be seen by the aid of good field-glasses, just about the same distance ahead of the dogs as when they left town.Some hours later the dogs returned, so tired they could scarcely walk. The Mexican eagerly looked for hair on their teeth, and although he could find none, was confident that his dogs had killed the antelopes. A mounted expedition to search for the carcasses and settle the question was agreed upon, but as it was too near night to start when the dogs returned, it was arranged to go in the morning. Butwhen the parties got up the next morning they found the antelopes quietly grazing in the hotel yard. The Mexican left town in disgust followed by his lame, sore-footed dogs, and muttering that he "never seed no varmints run like them things did."The antelope, one of the brightest and most graceful and beautiful of all our Western game animals, is fast disappearing from our broad plains, owing to the ceaseless slaughter of it that is carried on by "skin hunters," Indians, "foreign noblemen," and others who come to this country year after year and spend the entire summer in hunting. Hundreds of them are killed every summer by this latter class, and left to rot where they fall, not a pound of meat, a skin, or even a head being taken from them. I have seen with my own eyes this butchery carried on for years past, and know whereof I speak.Nearly all the Territories have stringent laws intended to prohibit this class of slaughter, but in these sparsely settled countries the provisions for enforcing them are so meagre that these men violate them day after day and year after year with impunity. This is one of the instances in which prohibition does not prohibit. And what I have said of the antelope is true of all the large game of the great West. The elk, deer, mountain sheep, etc., are being slaughtered by the hundreds every year—tenfold faster than the natural increase. And the time is near,verynear, when all these noble species will be extinct. The sportsman or naturalist who desires to preserve a skin or head of any of them must procure it very soon or he will not be able to get it at all.CHAPTER XXIV.BUFFALO HUNTING ON THE TEXAS PLAINS.HE"Texas boom" was at its height in 1876, and there was a grand rush of emigrants of all nationalities and conditions of people to the then New Eldorado. Thousands of men went down there to make money. Many of them had not the remotest idea how this was to be done, but from the glowing stories afloat regarding the resources of that wonderful country, they felt sure it could be done in some way. The little town of Fort Worth was then on the frontier—that is, it was one of the most westerly towns having railroad communication, and was therefore one of the important outfitting points for parties going into the wilds. A great many were going further west, on all kinds of expeditions, some in search of minerals, some in search of choice lands, some to hunt the large game which was then abundant.The village consisted of a public square, around and fronting on which were a row of cheap, one-story, log and frame buildings, most of which were occupied as saloons and gambling houses. Butthere were a few respectable general stores, half a dozen so-called hotels, shops, etc. The town was full to overflowing with gamblers, rustlers, hunters, cowboys, Mexican rancheros, northern sight-seers, adventurers, commercial travelers, etc.214AT BAYAll day and all night could be heard the call of thecroupierat the gambling-table as he announced the numbers and combinations that the wheel or cards produced in the course of the manipulations to which his deft fingers subjected them.Hot words often came from fortunate and unfortunate gamesters, and the short, sharp report of the six-shooter, the shouts of combatants, the groans of wounded or dying men, the clatter of heavy boots or spurs on the feet of stampeded spectators were sounds that, nearly every night, greeted the ears of the populace.Mob law reigned supreme, and there was little effort on the part of the village authorities to punish offenders. Sometimes Judge Lynch's court was convened on short notice, and someone who had committed an unusually flagrant violation of the "law of honor" and had killed a man without due provocation, was hurriedly tried and strung up to the nearest tree.One evening in the month of November, the excitement was varied by the arrival of a "bull-train"[A]of ten wagons loaded with buffalo skins. They drove to the warehouse of the largest trader in theplace to unload, and were quickly surrounded by a crowd of eager inquirers who sought for news from the front.[A]What is known on the frontier as a "bull-train" is a number of ponderous wagons, drawn by from six to ten yoke of oxen each, used for hauling heavy freight across the plains.Some inquired as to the nature of the country, some as to the progress of settlements, some as to friends who were at the front, and many as to the buffalo herd from which the five thousand skins brought in by this train had been taken."The main herd," said the wagon boss, "is two hundred miles west on the headwaters of the Brazos river.""How large a herd is it?""Nobody knows that, for none of 'em has took time to ride to the west end of it.""Are there many hunters there?" inquired a young St. Louis lawyer."Wall, you'd reckon," said the boss. "Tha's 'bout a hundred and fifty white hunters, and more'n a thousand red-skins.""When do you start back?""To-morrow mornin', if I can keep my bull punchers from gettin' full of pizen."The crowd gradually scattered, while a little knot of the more respectable element repaired to the hotel to discuss the question of organizing a hunting party to go to the buffalo range. In an hour they agreed to go, the time for the start being fixed for the morning of the second day following.And then the busy notes of preparation were heard throughout the town. But few of the men who decided to go were prepared for such a trip, and it was necessary for most of them to buy or hire complete outfits. Horses were the first and mostimportant requisite. The corral (the frontier livery stable) was first visited, and spirited bidding was indulged in for the choicest animals. The stock here was soon exhausted, and the demand was not yet supplied. Then all the horses and ponies standing tied to the railing around the public square were inspected, and any that were for sale were tested. Word having been circulated that a hunting party was outfitting, a large number of ponies were brought in from neighboring camps and ranches. The party was soon creditably mounted, though the number had increased to double that originally planned.Next, teams must be employed. A number of these were also found, and five were engaged, their owners agreeing to work for seven dollars a day "and found."Guns and ammunition were also in demand, and enough were offered to arm a regiment. A number of hunters had recently come in from the front and were selling off their outfits. Every store and hotel had from one to half a dozen guns in pawn, and one dealer had a number of new ones. Anything in the shape of a rifle could be had. Old Kentucky muzzle-loaders, "five feet long in the barrel;" condemned army carbines of Spencer, Sharps, and other patterns; Springfield muskets; Henry and Winchester rifles; and a few of the old reliable Sharps "buffalo guns" of 45 and 50 calibre, and using 100 to 120 grains of powder. These latter were taken at good figures by the more knowing ones, and the best of the others selected by the less intelligent buyers until all were fairly well armed.Then a guide was needed, and a Chicago newspaper correspondent, who was to be a member of the expedition, was deputed to employ one. As usual in frontier towns, there were plenty of them, each one of whom, in his own estimation, was the best in the whole country. Each claimed to know every foot of the ground in question, to be able to speak the language of every Indian tribe on the frontier, to be a crack shot and intrepid horseman, afraid of nothing, and ready for any undertaking, no matter how hazardous.Inquiry among the more reliable citizens of the town as to who was best suited for the uses of the present enterprise resulted in the choice of a rather quiet and attractive-looking young man bearing the euphonious pseudonym of "Red River Frank." He was clad in the conventional buckskin suit, and his long glossy black hair hung in heavy curls down to his shoulders. He was six feet two inches in height, straight as an arrow, and had a deep, clear gray eye; rode a good sized spirited mustang, and sat in his saddle like a life-trained trooper.At the time appointed for the departure, the party, which had now swelled to thirty-two men all told, assembled in the public square. The wagons were loaded with the tents, bedding, food, and other necessary provisions for the trip, which, it was arranged, should occupy about six weeks. At ten o'clock the party rode out of town on the road leading west, taking with them the hearty good wishes of the assembled throng. They crossed a narrow belt of timber and emerged upon a stretch of gently undulating prairie, which was densely coveredwith a luxuriant growth of gramma grass, and over which they traveled at a lively gait until after sundown before again reaching timber and water. Then they camped on a small creek where food, fuel, and good water were abundant. The tents were pitched, supper prepared and eaten, and then the party assembled around a large camp fire.The lawyer arose, and requesting the attention of the men, said that, as they were going on a long journey into a wild country, which was infested with hostile Indians and lawless white men, where it might be necessary for this party to defend themselves and their property by force of arms, it was thought best to effect a permanent and binding organization, which would insure unity of action throughout the trip, and especially in the event of any such trouble as he had intimated might arise. He therefore nominated as chief executive officer of the expedition, Captain W. H. Enders, who, he said, had done good and faithful service during the late war; who, since the war, had traveled extensively in the West, and who was now engaged in cattle raising in Kansas. Several men seconded the nomination, and Captain Enders was unanimously chosen by acclamation.He arose and thanked his friends, modestly and gracefully, for this mark of their esteem and confidence, stating that he had no desire to exercise any arbitrary or unnecessary authority over them, but should only order them in so far as safety and success in their undertaking seemed necessary. He asked that all who were willing to stand by him and obey his orders to this extent should so pledgethemselves by rising to their feet. The entire party arose. Then their leader thanked them again, and their informal deliberation ended.The captain detailed four men to act as a guard over the camp and stock during the night, each watching two hours and then calling up the one who was to relieve him, and this precaution was followed up throughout the expedition.The men were tired from their long ride, and sought the comfort of their blankets at an early hour. As they had a ten days' journey before them to reach the buffalo range, it was agreed that they should start early each morning, and the camp fires were therefore ordered to be lit at four o'clock.The journey was uneventful for several days. The road upon which the party had first traveled bearing off to the southwest, and the course of our party being due west, they left it. "Red River Frank" now sustained his good reputation as a guide by selecting with excellent skill and judgment the best portion of the country to travel in, avoiding the numerous swamps and sandy plains, finding safe and easy fords across the streams, and selecting good camp sites for each night.They were now in a country where deer and turkeys were abundant, and their tables were bountifully supplied with fresh meat. They camped on the night of November 12 in a clump of tall cottonwood trees that skirted a small creek. Just at dusk a great rush of wings was heard in the air, and, looking in the direction from whence the sound came, a large flock of wild turkeys was seen sailing directly toward their camp, and, a moment later,they lit in the trees amongst which our party was camped. Instantly every rifle was brought forth, and the whole camp was ablaze with burning powder. The smoke floated up amongst the dazed and panic-stricken birds, who fluttered wildly and aimlessly from tree to tree, knocking their wings against each other and the dead limbs, and making a most frightful noise.The hunters scattered and tongues of flame shot up from every quarter. Volley after volley was fired. The roar of the rifles interspersed with the "thud" and "crash" of falling birds, the shouts of the excited throng, the neighing of terrified horses, the barking of dogs, turned the quiet camp of a few moments ago into a veritable pandemonium. The slaughter went on for, perhaps, twenty minutes, when the more humane became ashamed of themselves and quit. Finally they prevailed upon their friends to desist, and the dead game was gathered up. Sixty-three of these noble birds had met their death, and the survivors were allowed to sit quietly and watch the camp fires till morning, when they sailed away toward the east.In the afternoon of that day, Frank and the journalist were riding in advance of the column across a level, monotonous stretch of country, where there was little to attract attention or excite remark. They had already become warm friends and talked confidentially on many subjects, but Frank had said nothing of his past history, yet his strange demeanor at times had excited in the mind of the newspaper man an anxiety to know what had moved this refined, generous, scholarly youngman to adopt a life so uncivilized as the one he was living."Frank," he finally said, "I have no wish to question you on a subject that you may not wish to speak on, yet I have observed many traits in you that are not found in other men of your calling. I am of the opinion that you have been bred in a very different sphere of life from this in which you now live. If you have no objection, I should like to know what motive prompted you to adopt this wild life."He bit his lip and hesitated. Finally, after some moments, he said:"Well, I'll tell you how it came about, and I'll make the story brief. It is similar to that of many another scout, in general, but different in detail, perhaps, from any of them. I was born and bred in an Eastern city, and was being educated for the ministry. My father failed in business and I was compelled to leave school. He gathered what little was left of his shattered fortune, and with his family emigrated to the far West. There he engaged in farming on what was then the frontier, but before we had been there six months we were awakened one morning at daylight by the yells of savage Indians, and, looking out, beheld them all around us. They were Comanches."Our house was burned. My father was tomahawked and scalped before our eyes, and my mother, my sister (who was older than I), and myself were carried into captivity. I was fortunate enough to escape. I returned and organized a pursuing party, but our efforts were fruitless, and a few monthslater I learned from a half-breed that death had relieved the sufferings of my mother and sister. That was twenty years ago. I was fifteen years old then, and from that day to this I have been on the trail of that tribe. I boast of nothing, but each year I feel better satisfied with my work. I hope that, in time, I may feel content to return East and engage in some lawful and more congenial pursuit."At that instant a deer bounded up out of the tall grass a hundred yards ahead and went prancing away to the left. Frank caught his rifle from the sling at his saddle bow and sent a bullet through its head.Early the next morning the hunters came upon fresh buffalo signs, and in the afternoon a few stragglers were seen. One was killed in the evening, and on the creek where they camped that night fresh Indian camp signs were found. A small herd of buffalo came to the creek to drink, a mile below, just after sundown, and various facts indicated that they were near the main herd. All through the next day they were in sight of small bands, and several hunting parties were sighted, some white and some red. The feed was getting scarce, owing to its having been eaten down by the game, and at two o'clock the party camped on Willow creek, a small tributary of the Brazos river. The main herd was yet about ten miles away, but the hunters could not consistently go any nearer for a permanent camp, and decided to make it here. Two white hunters visited them in the evening, and told them that a party of ten Comanches were camped on Turtle creek seven miles further west. At this intelligenceFrank's face darkened and his eye gleamed, but he said nothing. Soon after dark, however, he was missing, and did not turn up again till near noon the next day. He had a different horse from the one he rode away; not so good a one, it is true, and there were two bullet holes in his coat. He was reticent and uncommunicative as to where he had been, but wore a very pleased expression on his countenance, and was occasionally seen to smile when not talking with anyone.
192
WORK OF THE EXTERMINATORS.
This unequal, one-sided warfare, this ruthless slaughter of inoffensive creatures, can not last always. Indeed, it can last but little longer. In ranges where only a few years ago herds of four or five hundred elk could be found, the hunter of to-day considers himself in rare luck when he finds a band of ten or twelve, and even small bands of any number are so rare that a good hunter may often hunt a week in the best elk country to be found anywhere without getting a single shot. All the Territories have good, wholesome game-laws which forbid the killing of game animals except during two or three months in the fall; but these laws are not enforced. They are a dead letter on the statute-books, and the illegal and illegitimate slaughter goes on unchecked.
ANTELOPE HUNTING IN MONTANA.
Fall the numerous species of large game to be found in the far West, there is none whose pursuit furnishes grander sport to the expert rifleman than the antelope (Antilocapra americana). His habitat being the high, open plains, he may be hunted on horseback, and with a much greater degree of comfort than may the deer, elk, bear, and other species which inhabit the wooded or mountainous districts. His keen eyesight, his fine sense of smell, his intense fear of his natural enemy, man, however, render him the most difficult of all game animals to approach, and he must indeed be a skillful hunter who can get within easy rifle range of the antelope, unless he happens to have the circumstances of wind and lie of ground peculiarly in his favor. When the game is first sighted, even though it be one, two, or three miles away, you must either dismount and picket your horse, or find cover in some coulee or draw, where you can ride entirely out of sight of the quarry. But even under such favorable circumstances it is not well to attempt to ride very near them. Their sense of hearing is also very acute, and should your horse's hoof or shoe strike a loose rock, or should hesnort or neigh, the game is likely to catch the sound while you are yet entirely out of sight and faraway, and when you finally creep cautiously to the top of the ridge from which you expect a favorable shot, you may find the game placidly looking for you from the top of another ridge a mile or two farther away.But we will hope that you are to have better luck than this. To start with, we will presume that you are an expert rifleman; that you are in the habit of making good scores at the butts; that at 800, 900, and 1,000 yards you frequently score 200 to 210 out of a possible 225 points. We will also suppose that you are a hunter of some experience; that you have at least killed a good many deer in the States, but that this is your first trip to the plains. You have learned to estimate distances, however, even in this rare atmosphere, and possess good judgment as to windage. You have brought your Creedmoor rifle along, divested, of course, of its Venier sight, wind-guage, and spirit-level, and in their places you have fitted a Beach combination front sight and Lyman rear sight. Besides these you have the ordinary open step sight attached to the barrel just in front of the action. This is not the best arm for antelope hunting; a Winchester express with the same sights would be much better; but this will answer very well.We camped last night on the bank of a clear, rapid stream that gurgles down from the mountain, and this morning are up long before daylight; have eaten our breakfasts, saddled our horses, and just as the gray of dawn begins to show over the low, flat prairie to the east of us, wemount, and are ready for the start. The wind is from the northeast. That suits us very well, for in that direction, about a mile away, there are some low foot-hills that skirt the valley in which we are camped. In or just beyond these we are very likely to find antelope, and they will probably be coming toward the creek this morning for water.
Fall the numerous species of large game to be found in the far West, there is none whose pursuit furnishes grander sport to the expert rifleman than the antelope (Antilocapra americana). His habitat being the high, open plains, he may be hunted on horseback, and with a much greater degree of comfort than may the deer, elk, bear, and other species which inhabit the wooded or mountainous districts. His keen eyesight, his fine sense of smell, his intense fear of his natural enemy, man, however, render him the most difficult of all game animals to approach, and he must indeed be a skillful hunter who can get within easy rifle range of the antelope, unless he happens to have the circumstances of wind and lie of ground peculiarly in his favor. When the game is first sighted, even though it be one, two, or three miles away, you must either dismount and picket your horse, or find cover in some coulee or draw, where you can ride entirely out of sight of the quarry. But even under such favorable circumstances it is not well to attempt to ride very near them. Their sense of hearing is also very acute, and should your horse's hoof or shoe strike a loose rock, or should hesnort or neigh, the game is likely to catch the sound while you are yet entirely out of sight and faraway, and when you finally creep cautiously to the top of the ridge from which you expect a favorable shot, you may find the game placidly looking for you from the top of another ridge a mile or two farther away.
But we will hope that you are to have better luck than this. To start with, we will presume that you are an expert rifleman; that you are in the habit of making good scores at the butts; that at 800, 900, and 1,000 yards you frequently score 200 to 210 out of a possible 225 points. We will also suppose that you are a hunter of some experience; that you have at least killed a good many deer in the States, but that this is your first trip to the plains. You have learned to estimate distances, however, even in this rare atmosphere, and possess good judgment as to windage. You have brought your Creedmoor rifle along, divested, of course, of its Venier sight, wind-guage, and spirit-level, and in their places you have fitted a Beach combination front sight and Lyman rear sight. Besides these you have the ordinary open step sight attached to the barrel just in front of the action. This is not the best arm for antelope hunting; a Winchester express with the same sights would be much better; but this will answer very well.
We camped last night on the bank of a clear, rapid stream that gurgles down from the mountain, and this morning are up long before daylight; have eaten our breakfasts, saddled our horses, and just as the gray of dawn begins to show over the low, flat prairie to the east of us, wemount, and are ready for the start. The wind is from the northeast. That suits us very well, for in that direction, about a mile away, there are some low foot-hills that skirt the valley in which we are camped. In or just beyond these we are very likely to find antelope, and they will probably be coming toward the creek this morning for water.
We put spurs to our horses and gallop away. A brisk and exhilarating ride of ten minutes brings us to the foot-hills, and then we rein up and ride slowly and cautiously to near the top of the first one. Here we dismount, and, picketing our ponies, we crawl slowly and carefully to the apex. By this time it is almost fully daylight. We remove our hats, and peer cautiously through the short, scattering grass on the brow of the hill.
Do you see anything?
No; nothing but prairie and grass.
No? Hold! What are those small, gray objects away off yonder to the left? I think I saw one of them move. And now, as the light grows stronger, I can see white patches on them. Yes, they are antelope. They are busily feeding, and we may raise our heads slightly and get a more favorable view. One, two, three—there are five of them—two bucks, a doe, and two kids. And you will observe that they are nearly in the centre of a broad stretch of table-land.
"But," you say, "may we not wait here a little while until they come nearer to us?"
Hardly. You see they are intent on getting their breakfast. There is a heavy frost on the grass, which moistens it sufficiently for present purposes,and it may be an hour or more before they will start for water. It won't pay us to wait so long, for we shall most likely find others within that time that we can get within range of without waiting for them. So you may as well try them from here.
Now your experience at the butts may serve you a good turn. After taking a careful look over the ground, you estimate the distance at 850 yards, and setting up your Beach front and Lyman rear sights, you make the necessary elevation. There is a brisk wind blowing from the right, and you think it necessary to hold off about three feet. We are now both lying prone upon the ground. You face the game, and support your rifle at your shoulder by resting your elbows on the ground. The sun is now shining brightly, and you take careful aim at that old buck that stands out there at the left. At the report of your rifle a cloud of dust rises from a point about a hundred yards this side of him, and a little to the left, showing that you have underestimated both the distance and the force of the wind—things that even an old hunter is liable to do occasionally.
We both lie close, and the animals have not yet seen us. They make a few jumps, and stop all in a bunch. The cross-wind and long distance prevent them from knowing to a certainty where the report comes from, and they don't like to run just yet, lest they may run toward the danger instead of away from it. You make another half-point of elevation, hold a little farther away to the right, and try them again. This time the dirt rises about twenty feet beyond them, and they jump in every direction. That was certainly a close call, and the bullet evidentlywhistled uncomfortably close to several of them. They are now thoroughly frightened. You insert another cartridge, hurriedly draw a bead on the largest buck again, and fire. You break dirt just beyond him, and we can't tell for the life of us how or on which side of him your bullet passed. It is astonishing how much vacant space there is round an antelope, anyway. This time they go, sure. They have located the puff of smoke, and are gone with the speed of the wind away to the west. But don't be discouraged, my friend. You did some clever shooting, someveryclever shooting, and a little practice of that kind will enable you to score before night.
We go back to our horses, mount, and gallop away again across the table-land. A ride of another mile brings us to the northern margin of this plateau, and to a more broken country. Here we dismount and picket our horses again. We ascend a high butte, and from the top of it we can see three more antelope about a mile to the north of us; but this time they are in a hilly, broken country, and the wind is coming directly from them to us. We shall be able to get a shot at them at short range. So we cautiously back down out of sight, and then begins the tedious process of stalking them. We walk briskly along around the foot of a hill for a quarter of a mile, to where it makes a turn that would carry us too far out of our course. We must cross this hill, and after looking carefully at the shape and location of it, we at last find a low point in it where by lying flat down we can crawl over it without revealing ourselves to the game. It is a most tedious and painfulpiece of work, for the ground is almost covered with cactus and sharp flinty rocks, and our hands and knees are terribly lacerated. But every rose has its thorn, and nearly every kind of sport has something unpleasant connected with it occasionally; and our reward, if we get it, will be worth the pain it costs us. With such reflections and comments, and with frequent longing looks at the game, we kill time till at last the critical part of our work is done, and wecan arise and descend in a comfortable but cautious walk into another draw.
199
A PORTRAIT.
This we follow for about two hundred yards, until we think we are as near our quarry as we can get. We turn to the right, cautiously ascend the hill, remove our hats, and peer over, and there, sure enough, are our antelope quietly grazing, utterly oblivious to the danger that threatens them. They have not seen, heard, or scented us, so we have ample time to plan an attack. You take the standing shot at the buck, and together we will try and take care of the two does afterward. At this short distance you don't care for the peep and globe sights, and wisely decide to use the plain open ones. This time you simply kneel, and then edge up until you can get a good clear aim over the apex of the ridge in this position. The buck stands broadside to you, and at the crack of your rifle springs into the air, and falls all in a heap, pierced through the heart.
And now for the two does. They are flying over the level stretch of prairie with the speed of an arrow, and are almost out of sure range now. You turn loose on that one on the right, and I will look after the one on the left. Our rifles crack together, and little clouds of dust rising just beyond tell us that, though we have both missed, we have made close calls. I put in about three shots to your one, owing to my rifle being a repeater, while you must load yours at each shot. At my fourth shot my left-fielder doubles up and goes down with a broken neck; and although you have fairly "set the ground afire"—to use a Western phrase—around yourright-fielder, you have not had the good fortune to stop her, and she is now out of sight behind a low ridge.
But you have the better animal of the two, and have had sport enough for the first morning. We will take the entrails out of these two, lash them across our horses behind our saddles, go to camp, and rest through the heat of the day; for this September sun beams down with great power in midday, even though the nights are cool and frosty.
And now, as we have quite a long ride to camp, and as we are to pass over a rather monotonous prairie countryen route, I will give you a point or two on flagging antelope, as we ride along, that may be useful to you at some time. Fine sport may frequently be enjoyed in this way. If you can find a band that have not been hunted much, and are not familiar with the wiles of the white man, you will have little trouble in decoying them within rifle range by displaying to them almost any brightly-colored object. They have as much curiosity as a woman, and will run into all kinds of danger to investigate any strange object they may discover. They have been known to follow an emigrant or freight wagon, with a white cover, several miles, and the Indian often brings them within reach of his arrow or bullet by standing in plain view wrapped in his red blanket. A piece of bright tin or a mirror answers the same purpose on a clear day. Almost any conspicuous or strange-looking object will attract them; but the most convenient as well as the most reliable at all times is a little bright-red flag.
On one occasion I was hunting in the Snowy Mountains,in Northern Montana, with S. K. Fishel, the government scout, and Richard Thomas, the packer, from Fort Maginnis. We had not been successful in finding game there, and on our way back to the post camped two days on the head of Flat Willow creek, near the foot of the mountains, to hunt antelopes. As night approached several small bands of them came toward the creek, but none came within range of our camp during daylight, and we did not go after them that night, but were up and at them betimes the next morning.
I preferred to hunt alone, as I always do when after big game, and went out across a level flat to some low hills north of camp. When I ascended the first of these I saw a handsome buck antelope on the prairie half a mile away. I made a long detour to get to leeward of him, and meantime had great difficulty in keeping him from seeing me. But by careful maneuvering I finally got into a draw below him, and found the wind blowing directly from him to me. In his neighborhood were some large, ragged volcanic rocks, and getting in line with one of these I started to stalk him. He was feeding, and as I moved cautiously forward I could frequently see his nose or rump show up at one side or the other of the rock. I would accordingly glide to right or left, as necessary, and move on. Finally, I succeeded in reaching the rock, crawled carefully up to where I could see over it, and there, sure enough, stood the handsome old fellow not more than fifty yards away, still complacently nipping the bunch-grass.
"Ah, my fine laddie," I said to myself, "you'llnever know what hurt you;" and resting the muzzle of the rifle on the rock, I took a fine, steady aim for his heart and turned the bullet loose. There was a terrific roar; the lead tore up a cloud of dust and went screaming away over the hills, while, to my utter astonishment, the antelope went sailing across the prairie with the speed of a greyhound. I sprang to my feet, pumped lead after him at a lively rate, and, though I tore the ground up all around him, never touched a hair. And what annoyed me most was that, owing to some peculiar condition of the atmosphere, the smoke of each shot hung in front of me long enough to prevent me from seeing just where my bullets struck, and, for the life of me, I could not tell whether I was shooting over or under the game!
I went back over the hill to my horse, with my heart full of disappointment and my magazine only half full of cartridges. I loaded up, however, mounted, and, as I rode away in search of more game, I could occasionally hear the almost whispered "puff, puff" of Fishel's and Thomas's rifles away to the south and west, which brought me the cheering assurance that they were also having fun, and also assured me that we should not be without meat for supper and breakfast.
I soon sighted a band of about thirty antelopes, and riding into a coulee dismounted, picketed my horse, and began another crawl. In due time I reached the desired "stand," within about eighty yards of them, and, picking out the finest buck in the bunch, again took a careful, deliberate aim and fired, scoring another clear miss. The band,instead of running away, turned and ran directly toward me, and, circling, slightly, passed within thirty yards of me, drawn out in single file. It was a golden opportunity and I felt sure I should kill half a dozen of them at least; but, alas! for fleeting hopes. I knew not the frailty of the support on which I built my expectations. I fanned them as long as there was a cartridge in my magazine, and had to endure the intense chagrin of seeing the last one of them go over a ridge a mile away safe and sound.
I was dumb. If there had been anyone there to talk to, I don't think I could have found a word in the language to express my feelings. As before, the smoke prevented me from seeing just where my bullets struck the ground, but I felt sure they must be striking very close to the game. I sat down, pondered, and examined my rifle. I could see nothing wrong with it, and felt sure it must be perfect, for within the past week I had killed a deer with it at 170 yards and had shaved the heads off a dozen grouse at short range. I was, therefore, forced to the conclusion that I had merely failed to exercise proper care in holding. I returned to my horse, mounted, and once more set out in search of game, determined to kill the next animal I shot at or leave the country.
I rode away to the west about two miles, and from the top of a high hill saw another band of forty or fifty antelopes on a table-land. I rode around till I got within about two hundred yards of them, when I left my horse under cover of a hill and again began to sneak on the unsuspecting little creatures.They were near the edge of the table, and from just beyond them the formation fell abruptly away into the valley some fifty feet. I crawled up this bluff until within about forty yards of the nearest antelope, and then, lying flat upon the ground, I placed my rifle in position for firing, and, inch by inch, edged up over the apex of the bluff until within fair view of the game. Again selecting the best buck—for I wanted a good head for mounting—I drew down on his brown side until I felt sure that if there had been a silver dollar hung on it I could have driven it through him. Confidently expecting to see him drop in his tracks, I touched the trigger. But, alas! I was doomed to still further disgrace. When the smoke lifted, my coveted prize was speeding away with the rest of the herd.
I simply stood, with my lower jaw hanging down, and looked after them till they were out of sight. Then I went and got my horse and went to camp. Sam and Dick were there with the saddles of three antelopes. When I told them what I had been doing, they tried to console me, but I wouldn't be consoled. After dinner, Sam picked up my rifle and looked it over carefully.
"Why, look here, you blooming idiot," said he. "No wonder you couldn't kill at short range. The wedge has slipped up under your rear sight two notches. She's elevated for 350 yards, and at that rate would shoot about a foot high at a hundred yards." I looked and found it even so. Then I offered him and Dick a dollar each if they would kick me, but they wouldn't.
Sam said good-naturedly: "Come, go with meand get the head of the buck I killed. It's a very handsome one, and only two miles from camp."
I said I didn't want any heads for my own use unless I could kill their owners myself, but would take this one home for a friend, so we saddled our horses and started.
As we reached the top of a hill about a mile from camp a large buck that was grazing ahead of us jumped and ran away to what he seemed to consider a safe distance, and stopped to look at us. Sam generously offered me the shot, and springing out of my saddle I threw down my rifle, took careful aim and fired. At the crack the buck turned just half way round, but was unable to make a single jump and sank dead in his tracks.
Sam is ordinarily a quiet man, but he fairly shouted at the result of my shot. I paced the distance carefully to where the carcass lay, and it was exactly 290 steps. The buck was standing broadside to me and I had shot him through the heart. Of course, it was a scratch. I could not do it again perhaps in twenty shots, and yet when I considered that I shot for one single animal and got him I could not help feeling a little proud of it. As we approached the animal, not knowing just where I had hit him, I held my rifle in readiness, but Sam said:
"Oh, you needn't be afraid of his getting up. One of those Winchester express bullets is all an antelope needs, no matter what part of the body you hit him in."
This old fellow had a fine head, and we took it off, and now as I write it gazes down upon me with those large, lustrous black eyes, from its place onthe wall, as proudly and curiously as it did there on the prairie when I looked at it through the sights of my Winchester. His portrait adorns page 199 of this book, and though the artist has treated it with a master's hand, it does not possess the lordly beaming, the fascinating grace, the timid beauty that distinguished the living animal.
It was so late when we got this one dressed that we decided to return to camp at once.
The curiosity which is so prominent a feature in the antelope's nature costs many a one of them his life, and is taken advantage of by the hunter in various ways. When we reached camp that afternoon Dick told us how he had taken advantage of it. He had seen a small band on a level stretch of prairie where there was no possible way of getting within range of them, and having heard that if a man would lie down on his back, elevate his feet as high as possible, and swing them back and forth through the air, that it would attract antelopes, decided to try it. But the antelopes of this section had evidently never seen soap boxes or bales of hay floating through the air, and had no desire to cultivate a closer acquaintance with such frightful looking objects as he exhibited to their astonished gaze. And Dick said that when he turned to see if they had yet come within shooting distance they were about a mile away, and judging from the cloud of dust they were leaving behind them seemed to be running a race to see which could get out of the country first.
The next morning Sam and I went together and Dick alone in another direction. During the forenoonI shot a buck through both fore legs, cutting one off clean and paralyzing the other. Sam said not to shoot him again and he would catch him, and putting spurs to his horse was soon galloping alongside of the quarry. He caught him by one horn and held him until I came up. The little fellow pranced wildly about, and bleated pitifully, but a stroke of the hunting knife across his throat soon relieved his suffering.
We then got the head from the buck Sam had killed the day before, and returned to camp about 11 o'clock a. m.
In the afternoon we rode out together again, and had not gone far when we saw five of the bright little animals we were hunting on a hill-side. They were too far away for anything like a sure shot, but were in such a position that we could get no nearer to them. They stood looking at us, and Sam told me to try them. I had little hope of making a hit, but dismounting took a shot off hand, holding for the shoulder of a good sized buck. When the gun cracked there was a circus. I had missed my aim so far as to cut both his hind legs off just below the knee. The buck commenced bucking. First he stood on his fore feet, got his hind legs up in the air and shook the stumps. Then he tried to stand on them and paw the air with his fore feet, but lost his balance and fell over backward. He got up, jumped first to one side, then to the other, then forward. Meantime Sam rode toward him, and he tried to run. In this his motions were more like those of a rocking horse than of a living animal. The race was a short one. Sam soon rode up to him, caught himby a horn and held him till I came up and cut the little fellow's throat. Then Sam said that was a very long shot, and he would like to know just what the distance was. He went back to where I stood when I shot, stepped the distance to where the antelope stood, and found it to be 362 paces.
We rode on a mile further and saw a young antelope lying down in some tall rye-grass. We could just see his horns and ears, and though he appeared to be looking at us he seemed to think himself securely hidden, for he made no movement toward getting up. I told Sam to shoot this time, but he said, "No, you shoot. I live in this country and can get all the shooting I want any time. You have come a long way out here to have some fun. Turn loose on him." And slipping off my horse I knelt down to get a knee rest, but found that from that position I could not see the game at all, and was compelled to shoot off hand again. Raising up I drew a bead on one of the horns, and then lowering the muzzle to where I thought the body should be, pressed the trigger. There was a lively commotion in the grass, but the buck never got out of his bed. The ball went in at one shoulder and out at the opposite hip. On stepping the distance we found it to be only 125 yards.
And now, having in a measure wiped out the disgrace of the previous day's work and secured all the meat, skins, and heads that our pack-mules could carry, we returned to camp and the next day went back to Fort Maginnis.
These bright little creatures, though naturally timid, sometimes show great courage in defense oftheir young. I once saw a coyote sneak from behind a hill toward a herd of antelope. Instantly there was a grand rush of all the adult members of the band, male and female, toward the intruder, and when they had gotten in front of the kids they stopped, with bristles erect, ears thrown forward, and heads lowered, presenting a most warlike and belligerent appearance. The coyote, when he saw himself confronted with this solid phalanx, suddenly stopped, eyed his opponents for a few moments, and then, apparently overawed at the superiority of numbers and warlike attitude of his intended prey, slunk reluctantly away in search of some weaker victim. When he was well out of sight, the older members of the band turned to their young, caressed them, and resumed their grazing.
The speed of the antelope is probably not excelled by that of any other animal in this country, wild or domestic, except the greyhound, and, in fact, it is only the finest and fleetest of these that can pull down an antelope in a fair race.
In the little village of Garfield, Kansas, there lived a man some years ago—the proprietor of a hotel—who had two pet antelopes. The village dogs had several times chased them, but had always been distanced. One day a Mexican came to town who had with him two large, handsome greyhounds. Immediately on riding up to the hotel he saw the antelopes in the yard, and told the proprietor gruffly that he had better put "them critters" in the corral, or his dogs would kill them. The proprietor said he guessed the "critters" were able to take care of themselves, especially if the dogs did not springupon them unawares. This aroused the Mexican's ire, and he promptly offered to wager a goodly sum that his dogs would pull down one or both of the antelopes within a mile. The challenge was accepted, the stakes deposited, the antelopes turned into the street, and the "greaser" told his dogs to "take'em."
The dogs sprang at the antelopes, but the latter had by this time reached a vacant lot across the street. They started off down the river. For a distance of four miles the river bottom was an open prairie, and as level as a floor. As the quartette sped over this grand natural race-course, the whole populace of the town turned outen masseto see the race. Men and boys shouted, and ladies waved their handkerchiefs. Betting was rife, the natives offering two to one on the antelopes, the Mexican and the few other strangers in town being eager takers. It was nip and tuck, neither animals gaining nor losing perceptibly, and when at last the four went round a bend in the river four miles away, and were hidden by a bluff, the game was, as nearly as could be seen by the aid of good field-glasses, just about the same distance ahead of the dogs as when they left town.
Some hours later the dogs returned, so tired they could scarcely walk. The Mexican eagerly looked for hair on their teeth, and although he could find none, was confident that his dogs had killed the antelopes. A mounted expedition to search for the carcasses and settle the question was agreed upon, but as it was too near night to start when the dogs returned, it was arranged to go in the morning. Butwhen the parties got up the next morning they found the antelopes quietly grazing in the hotel yard. The Mexican left town in disgust followed by his lame, sore-footed dogs, and muttering that he "never seed no varmints run like them things did."
The antelope, one of the brightest and most graceful and beautiful of all our Western game animals, is fast disappearing from our broad plains, owing to the ceaseless slaughter of it that is carried on by "skin hunters," Indians, "foreign noblemen," and others who come to this country year after year and spend the entire summer in hunting. Hundreds of them are killed every summer by this latter class, and left to rot where they fall, not a pound of meat, a skin, or even a head being taken from them. I have seen with my own eyes this butchery carried on for years past, and know whereof I speak.
Nearly all the Territories have stringent laws intended to prohibit this class of slaughter, but in these sparsely settled countries the provisions for enforcing them are so meagre that these men violate them day after day and year after year with impunity. This is one of the instances in which prohibition does not prohibit. And what I have said of the antelope is true of all the large game of the great West. The elk, deer, mountain sheep, etc., are being slaughtered by the hundreds every year—tenfold faster than the natural increase. And the time is near,verynear, when all these noble species will be extinct. The sportsman or naturalist who desires to preserve a skin or head of any of them must procure it very soon or he will not be able to get it at all.
BUFFALO HUNTING ON THE TEXAS PLAINS.
HE"Texas boom" was at its height in 1876, and there was a grand rush of emigrants of all nationalities and conditions of people to the then New Eldorado. Thousands of men went down there to make money. Many of them had not the remotest idea how this was to be done, but from the glowing stories afloat regarding the resources of that wonderful country, they felt sure it could be done in some way. The little town of Fort Worth was then on the frontier—that is, it was one of the most westerly towns having railroad communication, and was therefore one of the important outfitting points for parties going into the wilds. A great many were going further west, on all kinds of expeditions, some in search of minerals, some in search of choice lands, some to hunt the large game which was then abundant.The village consisted of a public square, around and fronting on which were a row of cheap, one-story, log and frame buildings, most of which were occupied as saloons and gambling houses. Butthere were a few respectable general stores, half a dozen so-called hotels, shops, etc. The town was full to overflowing with gamblers, rustlers, hunters, cowboys, Mexican rancheros, northern sight-seers, adventurers, commercial travelers, etc.
HE"Texas boom" was at its height in 1876, and there was a grand rush of emigrants of all nationalities and conditions of people to the then New Eldorado. Thousands of men went down there to make money. Many of them had not the remotest idea how this was to be done, but from the glowing stories afloat regarding the resources of that wonderful country, they felt sure it could be done in some way. The little town of Fort Worth was then on the frontier—that is, it was one of the most westerly towns having railroad communication, and was therefore one of the important outfitting points for parties going into the wilds. A great many were going further west, on all kinds of expeditions, some in search of minerals, some in search of choice lands, some to hunt the large game which was then abundant.
The village consisted of a public square, around and fronting on which were a row of cheap, one-story, log and frame buildings, most of which were occupied as saloons and gambling houses. Butthere were a few respectable general stores, half a dozen so-called hotels, shops, etc. The town was full to overflowing with gamblers, rustlers, hunters, cowboys, Mexican rancheros, northern sight-seers, adventurers, commercial travelers, etc.
214
AT BAY
All day and all night could be heard the call of thecroupierat the gambling-table as he announced the numbers and combinations that the wheel or cards produced in the course of the manipulations to which his deft fingers subjected them.
Hot words often came from fortunate and unfortunate gamesters, and the short, sharp report of the six-shooter, the shouts of combatants, the groans of wounded or dying men, the clatter of heavy boots or spurs on the feet of stampeded spectators were sounds that, nearly every night, greeted the ears of the populace.
Mob law reigned supreme, and there was little effort on the part of the village authorities to punish offenders. Sometimes Judge Lynch's court was convened on short notice, and someone who had committed an unusually flagrant violation of the "law of honor" and had killed a man without due provocation, was hurriedly tried and strung up to the nearest tree.
One evening in the month of November, the excitement was varied by the arrival of a "bull-train"[A]of ten wagons loaded with buffalo skins. They drove to the warehouse of the largest trader in theplace to unload, and were quickly surrounded by a crowd of eager inquirers who sought for news from the front.
[A]What is known on the frontier as a "bull-train" is a number of ponderous wagons, drawn by from six to ten yoke of oxen each, used for hauling heavy freight across the plains.
[A]What is known on the frontier as a "bull-train" is a number of ponderous wagons, drawn by from six to ten yoke of oxen each, used for hauling heavy freight across the plains.
Some inquired as to the nature of the country, some as to the progress of settlements, some as to friends who were at the front, and many as to the buffalo herd from which the five thousand skins brought in by this train had been taken.
"The main herd," said the wagon boss, "is two hundred miles west on the headwaters of the Brazos river."
"How large a herd is it?"
"Nobody knows that, for none of 'em has took time to ride to the west end of it."
"Are there many hunters there?" inquired a young St. Louis lawyer.
"Wall, you'd reckon," said the boss. "Tha's 'bout a hundred and fifty white hunters, and more'n a thousand red-skins."
"When do you start back?"
"To-morrow mornin', if I can keep my bull punchers from gettin' full of pizen."
The crowd gradually scattered, while a little knot of the more respectable element repaired to the hotel to discuss the question of organizing a hunting party to go to the buffalo range. In an hour they agreed to go, the time for the start being fixed for the morning of the second day following.
And then the busy notes of preparation were heard throughout the town. But few of the men who decided to go were prepared for such a trip, and it was necessary for most of them to buy or hire complete outfits. Horses were the first and mostimportant requisite. The corral (the frontier livery stable) was first visited, and spirited bidding was indulged in for the choicest animals. The stock here was soon exhausted, and the demand was not yet supplied. Then all the horses and ponies standing tied to the railing around the public square were inspected, and any that were for sale were tested. Word having been circulated that a hunting party was outfitting, a large number of ponies were brought in from neighboring camps and ranches. The party was soon creditably mounted, though the number had increased to double that originally planned.
Next, teams must be employed. A number of these were also found, and five were engaged, their owners agreeing to work for seven dollars a day "and found."
Guns and ammunition were also in demand, and enough were offered to arm a regiment. A number of hunters had recently come in from the front and were selling off their outfits. Every store and hotel had from one to half a dozen guns in pawn, and one dealer had a number of new ones. Anything in the shape of a rifle could be had. Old Kentucky muzzle-loaders, "five feet long in the barrel;" condemned army carbines of Spencer, Sharps, and other patterns; Springfield muskets; Henry and Winchester rifles; and a few of the old reliable Sharps "buffalo guns" of 45 and 50 calibre, and using 100 to 120 grains of powder. These latter were taken at good figures by the more knowing ones, and the best of the others selected by the less intelligent buyers until all were fairly well armed.
Then a guide was needed, and a Chicago newspaper correspondent, who was to be a member of the expedition, was deputed to employ one. As usual in frontier towns, there were plenty of them, each one of whom, in his own estimation, was the best in the whole country. Each claimed to know every foot of the ground in question, to be able to speak the language of every Indian tribe on the frontier, to be a crack shot and intrepid horseman, afraid of nothing, and ready for any undertaking, no matter how hazardous.
Inquiry among the more reliable citizens of the town as to who was best suited for the uses of the present enterprise resulted in the choice of a rather quiet and attractive-looking young man bearing the euphonious pseudonym of "Red River Frank." He was clad in the conventional buckskin suit, and his long glossy black hair hung in heavy curls down to his shoulders. He was six feet two inches in height, straight as an arrow, and had a deep, clear gray eye; rode a good sized spirited mustang, and sat in his saddle like a life-trained trooper.
At the time appointed for the departure, the party, which had now swelled to thirty-two men all told, assembled in the public square. The wagons were loaded with the tents, bedding, food, and other necessary provisions for the trip, which, it was arranged, should occupy about six weeks. At ten o'clock the party rode out of town on the road leading west, taking with them the hearty good wishes of the assembled throng. They crossed a narrow belt of timber and emerged upon a stretch of gently undulating prairie, which was densely coveredwith a luxuriant growth of gramma grass, and over which they traveled at a lively gait until after sundown before again reaching timber and water. Then they camped on a small creek where food, fuel, and good water were abundant. The tents were pitched, supper prepared and eaten, and then the party assembled around a large camp fire.
The lawyer arose, and requesting the attention of the men, said that, as they were going on a long journey into a wild country, which was infested with hostile Indians and lawless white men, where it might be necessary for this party to defend themselves and their property by force of arms, it was thought best to effect a permanent and binding organization, which would insure unity of action throughout the trip, and especially in the event of any such trouble as he had intimated might arise. He therefore nominated as chief executive officer of the expedition, Captain W. H. Enders, who, he said, had done good and faithful service during the late war; who, since the war, had traveled extensively in the West, and who was now engaged in cattle raising in Kansas. Several men seconded the nomination, and Captain Enders was unanimously chosen by acclamation.
He arose and thanked his friends, modestly and gracefully, for this mark of their esteem and confidence, stating that he had no desire to exercise any arbitrary or unnecessary authority over them, but should only order them in so far as safety and success in their undertaking seemed necessary. He asked that all who were willing to stand by him and obey his orders to this extent should so pledgethemselves by rising to their feet. The entire party arose. Then their leader thanked them again, and their informal deliberation ended.
The captain detailed four men to act as a guard over the camp and stock during the night, each watching two hours and then calling up the one who was to relieve him, and this precaution was followed up throughout the expedition.
The men were tired from their long ride, and sought the comfort of their blankets at an early hour. As they had a ten days' journey before them to reach the buffalo range, it was agreed that they should start early each morning, and the camp fires were therefore ordered to be lit at four o'clock.
The journey was uneventful for several days. The road upon which the party had first traveled bearing off to the southwest, and the course of our party being due west, they left it. "Red River Frank" now sustained his good reputation as a guide by selecting with excellent skill and judgment the best portion of the country to travel in, avoiding the numerous swamps and sandy plains, finding safe and easy fords across the streams, and selecting good camp sites for each night.
They were now in a country where deer and turkeys were abundant, and their tables were bountifully supplied with fresh meat. They camped on the night of November 12 in a clump of tall cottonwood trees that skirted a small creek. Just at dusk a great rush of wings was heard in the air, and, looking in the direction from whence the sound came, a large flock of wild turkeys was seen sailing directly toward their camp, and, a moment later,they lit in the trees amongst which our party was camped. Instantly every rifle was brought forth, and the whole camp was ablaze with burning powder. The smoke floated up amongst the dazed and panic-stricken birds, who fluttered wildly and aimlessly from tree to tree, knocking their wings against each other and the dead limbs, and making a most frightful noise.
The hunters scattered and tongues of flame shot up from every quarter. Volley after volley was fired. The roar of the rifles interspersed with the "thud" and "crash" of falling birds, the shouts of the excited throng, the neighing of terrified horses, the barking of dogs, turned the quiet camp of a few moments ago into a veritable pandemonium. The slaughter went on for, perhaps, twenty minutes, when the more humane became ashamed of themselves and quit. Finally they prevailed upon their friends to desist, and the dead game was gathered up. Sixty-three of these noble birds had met their death, and the survivors were allowed to sit quietly and watch the camp fires till morning, when they sailed away toward the east.
In the afternoon of that day, Frank and the journalist were riding in advance of the column across a level, monotonous stretch of country, where there was little to attract attention or excite remark. They had already become warm friends and talked confidentially on many subjects, but Frank had said nothing of his past history, yet his strange demeanor at times had excited in the mind of the newspaper man an anxiety to know what had moved this refined, generous, scholarly youngman to adopt a life so uncivilized as the one he was living.
"Frank," he finally said, "I have no wish to question you on a subject that you may not wish to speak on, yet I have observed many traits in you that are not found in other men of your calling. I am of the opinion that you have been bred in a very different sphere of life from this in which you now live. If you have no objection, I should like to know what motive prompted you to adopt this wild life."
He bit his lip and hesitated. Finally, after some moments, he said:
"Well, I'll tell you how it came about, and I'll make the story brief. It is similar to that of many another scout, in general, but different in detail, perhaps, from any of them. I was born and bred in an Eastern city, and was being educated for the ministry. My father failed in business and I was compelled to leave school. He gathered what little was left of his shattered fortune, and with his family emigrated to the far West. There he engaged in farming on what was then the frontier, but before we had been there six months we were awakened one morning at daylight by the yells of savage Indians, and, looking out, beheld them all around us. They were Comanches.
"Our house was burned. My father was tomahawked and scalped before our eyes, and my mother, my sister (who was older than I), and myself were carried into captivity. I was fortunate enough to escape. I returned and organized a pursuing party, but our efforts were fruitless, and a few monthslater I learned from a half-breed that death had relieved the sufferings of my mother and sister. That was twenty years ago. I was fifteen years old then, and from that day to this I have been on the trail of that tribe. I boast of nothing, but each year I feel better satisfied with my work. I hope that, in time, I may feel content to return East and engage in some lawful and more congenial pursuit."
At that instant a deer bounded up out of the tall grass a hundred yards ahead and went prancing away to the left. Frank caught his rifle from the sling at his saddle bow and sent a bullet through its head.
Early the next morning the hunters came upon fresh buffalo signs, and in the afternoon a few stragglers were seen. One was killed in the evening, and on the creek where they camped that night fresh Indian camp signs were found. A small herd of buffalo came to the creek to drink, a mile below, just after sundown, and various facts indicated that they were near the main herd. All through the next day they were in sight of small bands, and several hunting parties were sighted, some white and some red. The feed was getting scarce, owing to its having been eaten down by the game, and at two o'clock the party camped on Willow creek, a small tributary of the Brazos river. The main herd was yet about ten miles away, but the hunters could not consistently go any nearer for a permanent camp, and decided to make it here. Two white hunters visited them in the evening, and told them that a party of ten Comanches were camped on Turtle creek seven miles further west. At this intelligenceFrank's face darkened and his eye gleamed, but he said nothing. Soon after dark, however, he was missing, and did not turn up again till near noon the next day. He had a different horse from the one he rode away; not so good a one, it is true, and there were two bullet holes in his coat. He was reticent and uncommunicative as to where he had been, but wore a very pleased expression on his countenance, and was occasionally seen to smile when not talking with anyone.