224NATIVE BUFFALO HUNTERS.The majority of the hunters mounted and rode southwest early in the morning. Seven men in one party sighted a herd of buffaloes numbering about 200, and dismounting, when within a mile, cached their horses in a coulee, and began a cautious advance.They found a deep and crooked ravine into which they crawled, and in which they were able to approach to within about 400 yards of the nearest animals. A gentle breeze blew from the game toward the hunters, and taking advantage of the most favorable point, they crawled up the steep bank to where they could command a good view of the game. The "tenderfeet" in the party were in favor of firing a volley, but an old hunter who had led them advised them to fire singly, and at intervals of a minute or two, this plan being much less likely to frighten the game. He cautioned them to take very careful aim, to make every shot count, and to wound as few animals as possible. One slightly wounded animal, he said, would create more uneasiness among the herd than ten dead or fatally wounded ones.Several of this party were good marksmen, andhad good strong-shooting, long-range rifles. Though, they shot heavy charges, yet, the wind in their favor, at this long distance, the animals would scarcely hear the reports. The leader advised them to shoot only at animals broadside, and gave them careful directions as to elevation and where to aim. Evans opened the fire with a sixteen-pound 50-calibre Sharp's. Immediately after the report the emphatic "thud" of the bullet came back and a large cow was seen to drop on her knees, get up again, stagger away a few rods and lie down."Good," said the old hunter. "Now, Pete, you go.""Pete fired, and an old bull whisked his tail, walked sullenly away, turned around a few times, and fell dead. Another complimentary remark from the old hunter, and then he said:"Now I guess I'll try one."He fired, but to his great chagrin did just what he had cautioned the others not to do, broke a fore leg below the knee. This cow commenced to bellow and "buck," and in an instant the whole herd was in commotion."Stop her, somebody, stop her, or she'll stampede the hull bizness!" he said, as he pushed another bullet into his muzzle loader. By this time she had stopped broadside, for a moment, at the edge of the herd, and the journalist, at the order of the boss, drew a bead on her. The "spat" of the heavy bullet told of a palpable "hit". She no longer felt like running, but was not yet down and it took two more bullets to lay her out. The next shot was a clean miss, so far as it concerned the animal shot at, but it woundedone somewhere in the herd. Then there was more commotion and it was evident the "stand" was at an end."Give it to 'em, everybody," the old hunter now said, and a fusillade followed that soon put them under full speed.The hunters now mounted their horses and made a "run" on the band that resulted in some very exciting sport and the death of three more buffaloes. This over, they returned to the scene of the first firing and gralloched the seven animals killed "on the stand." Then they mounted their tired beasts again and were on the point of starting for camp when they heard strange noises, and looking toward the west beheld a great black surging mass, waving and rolling up across the prairie, half hidden by great clouds of dust which were only occasionally blown away by the brisk autumn wind. It was the great herd of buffalo, and they had been stampeded by the Indian hunters. The roar of the hoofs upon the dry earth was like the low and sullen thunder. The vanguard of the herd was yet more than a mile away, but the dark line stretched to right and left almost as far as the eye could reach, and our hunters saw that instant and precipitate flight was necessary in order to save their lives. They specially chose the northward as offering the shortest and best direction by which to escape the coming avalanche, and sinking the spurs deep into their terror-stricken beasts, they flew with the velocity of an arrow across the wild prairie. A mile was covered in a few seconds, and yet they were not past the herd, which was rapidly closing in upon them.228THE FIRST RUN.They turned their horses' heads partly in the direction the buffaloes were going and, urging them to their utmost speed, finally passed the outer line of the herd just as the leaders passed by. Then, having reached a place of safety, they dismounted, and throwing their bridle reins over their arms commenced to load and fire into the herd with all possible rapidity, nearly every shot killing or disabling an animal. It took nearly half an hour for the rolling, surging, angry horde to pass the point where our hunters stood, and as the rear guard came in sight there came a new and still more terrible scene in the great tragedy.More than a hundred Indians were in hot pursuit of the savage beasts. They were mounted on wild and almost ungovernable bronchos, who were frothing at the mouth, charging and cavorting amongst the fleeing game. The white foam dropped in flakes and bubbles from all parts of their bodies. Their nostrils were distended, their eyes flashed fire, and they seemed as eager as their wild masters to deal death to the buffaloes. The savage riders seemed beside themselves with mad, ungovernable passion.Their faces were painted in the most glaring colors, their bright and many-colored blankets fluttered in the wind secured to the saddle only by an end or a corner, their long black hair streaming back like the pennant at the mast head of a ship, and their deep black eyes gleamed like coals of fire in a dungeon. Arrow after arrow flew from deep-strung bows and sunk to the feathered tip in the quivering flesh of the shaggy monsters.Ponderous spears were hurled with the power and precision of giants and struck down the defenceless victims as a sturdy woodman strikes down the frail sapling in his path."Crack!" "crack!" came from rifles, and "ping!" "ping!" from carbines and revolvers. Hundreds of shots were fired by those who carried firearms, and before these murderous weapons, the poor bison sank like ripened grain before the reaper's blade.One young warrior, more ardent and fearless than the rest, had forced his high-strung steed far into the midst of the solid phalanx, where the horse was finally impaled upon the horns of a monster bull. He and his rider were tossed like sheaves of wheat into the air; then both sank to earth, and were instantly trodden into the dust.At last the great storm had passed, and our friends watched until it faded away in the distance and finally disappeared from their view.Then came the squaws, the boys, and the old men, to dispatch the wounded and to skin and cut up the dead. These were strewn all over the prairie, and not a tithe of them were, or could be, saved by all the people, white and red, assembled there.Our hunters returned to camp at sunset, where they met those of their companions who had been out during the afternoon, and over the evening camp fire, each related the thrilling incidents which he had witnessed, or in which he had participated during the day.On the following morning they again started out in several parties of five or six each and going in variousdirections. Frank and the newspaper man started with three others, but soon separated from them to go after a small band which they had sighted about two miles south of camp.When within a proper distance, they dismounted, picketed their horses in a swale, and stalking to within about a hundred yards opened fire. A young cow dropped at the first shot, to all appearances dead, and the remainder of the band scurried away, one old bull being badly wounded. The hunters started to run to the top of a ridge, over which the game had gone, to get another shot. As they passed the cow the guide called to his companion to look out for her, as she was only "creased" and liable to get up again and charge them. They had gone but a few rods, when, sure enough, she did spring to her feet and make a dash at Frank. He turned to shoot her, but his gun missed fire, and as he attempted to throw out the cartridge, the action failed to work, and his gun was, for the moment, disabled. By this time she was almost on him, and as his only means of escape, he sprang into a "washout" (a ditch that had been cut by the water, some ten feet deep), the sides of which were perpendicular.He called loudly for help, but his friend had not seen the charge, and was by this time a hundred yards away. He turned and saw the cow, almost blind with rage, rapidly jumping back and forth across the washout, in a mad effort to get at the guide, but she seemed unwilling to jump down into it. She was shot through the throat, and the blood, flowing from her in torrents, had deluged poorFrank, until he looked as if he had been at work in a slaughter-house. The scribe ran back, killed the cow, and drew his friend from his sanguinary retreat.The guide then repaired his gun, and mounting their horses they pursued the wounded bull. They soon found him at bay, and riding up close to him, commenced firing at him with their revolvers. Quick as a flash of lightning he made a frightful charge at the journalist, who, taken by surprise, was unable to avoid the rush. Both horse and rider were dashed to the earth. The horse was so badly injured as to be unable to rise, and as the burly antagonist made another rush at him, the man was enabled to seek safety in flight, and before the bull again turned his attention to the fugitive, the rapid and well-directed fire of the scout had brought the shaggy beast to the earth.The horse was fatally injured and had to be shot, so our friends, with one horse between them, took turns riding and walking to camp.This day's killing by the party was large, and supplied all their wants as to meat, skins, and sport. The next few days were devoted to jerking meat, dressing and drying skins, and preparing for the return journey, and in ten days from the date of their arrival on the hunting ground, the teams were all loaded up, camp was broken, and the homeward march was begun, which progressed uneventfully from day to day, and was made in safety in about the same time occupied in going out.Twice during the hunt the party were alarmed by the discovery of Indians lurking about their camp,late in the night. The guards discovered them in both instances, and fired on them, when they beat a hasty retreat and disappeared in the darkness. It was not known that their object was anything worse than pilfering, and yet there was little doubt that had they found the party all off guard and asleep, a massacre would have resulted. But, true to their aboriginal instincts, they did not wish to engage in a fight with a formidable foe, whom they found ever ready for such an emergency.233PROWLERS.Such scenes and such sport as this party enjoyed were common almost anywhere on the great plains west of the Missouri river up to a few years ago. Herds of buffalo extending over a tract of land, as large as one of the New England States, and numbering hundreds of thousands of heads, might be found any day in what was then "buffalo country." An army officer told me that, when crossing the plains in 1867 with a company of cavalry, he encountered a herd that it took his command three days to ride through, marching about thirty miles a day.When two of our transcontinental railways werefirst built it was no uncommon thing for herds of buffalo to delay trains for several hours in crossing the tracks, the animals being packed in so close together that the train could not force a passage through them.But, alas, those days are passed forever. This noble creature, provided to feed the human multitude who should people the prairies, is to-day practically extinct; slaughtered and annihilated by that jackal of the plains, that coyote in human shape, the "skin hunter." Hundreds of thousands of buffaloes were annually killed, their skins sold at from seventy-five cents to a dollar and a half each, and the meat which, when properly taken care of, is equal, if not superior, to the finest domestic beef, was left to rot on the ground.There are scarcely a hundred buffaloes left on the continent to day in their wild state. A very few stragglers are known to be in the Panhandle of Texas, a small bunch in the Yellowstone National Park, and a few in the British Northwest, but they are being remorselessly pursued by large numbers of hunters, and it is safe to say that a year hence not one will be left in the whole broad West unless it be those in the park, and they will escape only in case they stay within the park limits where they are protected by United States soldiers. Should they ever stray beyond the bounds of the park they will all be killed in less than a week.Several small bunches have been domesticated by Western cattlemen, and it is hoped the species may, by this means, be saved from total extinction. They are being successfully cross-bred with domesticcattle, and an excellent strain of stock is thus produced, but the grand herds that for ages roamed at will over the great plains are a thing of the past.235CHAPTER XXV.HUNTING THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT.HEREis, perhaps, no large mammal in this country of which the scientific world and the reading public in general knows so little as of the Rocky Mountain goat (Aplocerus Montanus). There are several reasons for this. First, its limited range. It is confined to a small area of the Rocky Mountains, principally west of the main divide; to Western Montana, Eastern Idaho, the Cascade Range in Washington Territory, a small portion of British Columbia, and to Alaska. Secondly, its habitat is the tops or near the tops of the highest and most rugged peaks and cliffs, where none but the hardiest and most daring hunter may venture in pursuit of it, and so comparatively very few are ever killed and brought into the settlements. Third, it can not be successfully domesticated. Its favorite food is so different from that generally growing in or near any settlement, the atmosphere it breathes, the mean temperature in which it lives, and the ground, or rather rocks, on which it is accustomed to walk, so widely different from those surrounding any human habitation, that the fewyoung that have been captured and brought down to the settlements have soon died. So that none of them are found in parks and zoological gardens, as are specimens of nearly all other large wild animals.There are fewer mounted skins of this animal in Eastern museums than of any other species indigenous to this country, and hence the public and naturalists have had fewer opportunities to study and become familiar with it than with other wild mammals. Yet it is one of the most beautiful and interesting of all our American quadrupeds, and probably no sportsman or naturalist has ever yet mustered courage and hardihood enough to go where he could kill a Rocky Mountain goat without feeling amply repaid for all the labor and hardship encountered by being able to behold this mystic creature in his lofty mountain home. In view of the limited facilities people have had for studying this animal a somewhat minute description of it may not be amiss here.In size it is but a trifle larger than the Merino sheep, which, in fact, it closely resembles in many respects. The form of its body is robust, fore parts rather thicker than hinder parts, with a slight hump over shoulders, similar to that of the American bison. Its color is entirely white, or, in some instances, of a light creamy shade. Hair long and pendant. A beard-like tuft of hair on the chin. Long coarse hair, more abundant, on shoulders, neck, and back. Under and intermixed with this long hair there is a close coat of fine, silky, white wool, equal in fineness to that of the Cashmere goat. Hair on face and legs short and without wool. Horns(which are present in both sexes) jet black, small, conical, nearly erect, polished, and curving slightly backward; ringed or wrinkled at the base, much like those of the chamois. Muzzle and hoofs also black. False or accessory hoofs present. Dentition: Incisors, 8 lower; canines, none; molars, 12 upper, 12 lower; total 32. The mountain goat brings forth two or three young at a time, usually late in May or early in June. Slightly gregarious, being frequently found in small bands in winter, but in summer season not more than a single family is usually seen together, and in summer and fall the older males may frequently be found entirely alone. The nose is nearly straight, ears rather long, pointed, and lined with long hair. Tail six to eight inches long, clothed with long hair. Legs thick and short. Hoofs grooved on sole and provided with a thick spongy mass of cartilage in centre, projecting below the outer edges of hoof, enabling the animal to cling firmly to steep or smooth rocks. The dimensions of one adult male specimen measured are as follows: Length from tip of nose to root of tail, 3 feet 7 inches; length of tail, 7 inches; length of head, 11-3/4 inches; length of horns, 8-1/2 inches; diameter of horns at base, 1 inch. Its estimated gross weight is 130 pounds.The food of the mountain goat consists principally, in summer, of the leaves of the alder and of various mountain shrubs, and in winter of mosses and lichens that grow on the rocks.Aplocerus Montanusis much more closely allied to the antelope than to the domestic goat, and has few characteristics in common with the lattergenus. He is an agile, fearless climber, and appears to delight in scaling the tallest, grandest, and most rugged crags and cliffs to be found in the ranges which he inhabits, not so much in quest of his favorite food, for this grows abundantly lower down, but apparently from a mere spirit of daring; from a desire to breathe the rarest and purest atmosphere obtainable, and to view the grandest scenery under the sun without having his vision in the least obstructed by intervening objects. These forbidding and almost inaccessible crags are the favorite, and nearly the exclusive, haunts of this strange creature, and the hunter who follows it thither must indeed be a daring mountaineer. The goat is frequently found at altitudes of 10,000 to 14,000 feet, where the atmosphere is so rare as to render it difficult indeed for man to climb, yet this fearless creature nimbly leaps from crag to crag, over deep yawning chasms, with no more fear than the domestic lamb feels when bounding over the greensward in an Eastern farmyard.The hunter literally takes his life in his hand when pursuing the goat, for he must pass over many places where a misstep or a slip of a few inches would plunge him over a precipice, where he would fall thousands of feet, or be hurled into some narrow and deep fissure in the rocks whence escape would be impossible.Over such rugged and perilous ground he may climb, hour after hour, until he has passed the highest ranges of the elk, the mountain sheep, and all the other game, for the mountain goat, "the American chamois," as he has been aptly termed, rangeshigher than any of them. He may toil on until he is far above timber line, and is working his way over and around vast drifts and beds of perpetual snow and ice. Finally he sights his game—a fine handsome specimen—standing fearlessly on some jutting crag, deliberately feeding on some tender lichens or, perhaps, peering proudly out over the lower world. The hunter now changes his course until he can conceal himself behind some neighboring rock, and then crawls stealthily and cautiously up to within rifle range of the game. Then, peering cautiously from behind his cover, he takes careful aim and fires. He is a dead shot and the rifle ball pierces the heart of the quarry, but to his dismay it makes a convulsive bound and down it goes over the precipice, rebounding from crag to crag, until it finally reaches a resting place hundreds of feet below. It may go to where he can never reach it, or may land where he can recover it on his return down the mountain side; but if the latter, it may be torn to fragments and scattered here and there until the hide is useless, the horns are broken off, the skull crushed so that the head is unfit to mount, and the flesh so bruised and mangled that he can scarcely save enough of it to make him a dinner.A few years ago an officer of the United States army and a party of friends were hunting goats in the Bitter Root Mountains, near Missoula, Mont. They followed two—a male and female—to the top of a rough and dangerous peak, when the game, before they could get a shot at it, started down the opposite side and took refuge from the hunters under a shelving rock. Here it was, owing to thenature of the rocks and ice, absolutely impossible for the hunters to follow them on foot, but the intrepid officer, not to be baffled in the pursuit, tied a long rope securely around his body, just under his arms, laid down, and grasping his rifle slid quietly down, on a bed of ice, some sixty or seventy feet, while his companions held on to the other end of the rope and controlled his perilous descent. Finally, when he had gone far enough to be able to see the game, he signaled his friends, who stopped him, and raising on his elbows he fired and killed both goats, and was then drawn up again in safety. Such, however, was the nature of the rocks between him and the carcasses that it was utterly impossible to reach them after he had killed them, and he was compelled reluctantly to abandon them. Several members of the party tried to reach them from other points, but were unable to do so, and they were all obliged to return empty-handed to camp.In another instance this same officer, upon crawling out on the edge of a shelving rock and looking down over a precipice hundreds of feet below, saw two goats near the base, but they were actually inside of a perpendicular line running down from the edge of the rock he occupied, and he was therefore unable to bring his rifle to bear upon them without projecting his body out over the edge of the rock further than was safe. After discussing the matter for some minutes, one of his friends offered to hold his feet and thus enable him to extend his head and shoulders far enough out to get his aim. By this means both of the goats were killed, but a partyhad to go around and ascend the mountain from the other side in order to secure them.The same party, while climbing the rugged and almost perpendicular face of Little Mountain to bring down some goats they had already killed, came suddenly upon a large buck in a narrow V-shaped fissure in the rock, from which there was no escape but by the opening at which they had entered, and across this they formed a skirmish line. The goat climbed upon a narrow projection on one of the walls of the fissure just out of reach of the tallest man in the party, and as they had no rifles with them (having left them below to lighten the labor of the ascent), they tried to dislodge him by throwing rocks at him, but their footing was so insecure and there was such great danger of their falling that they could not hurl these with sufficient force to bring him down though several of them hit him. If they had had a rope they could easily have lassoed him, but there was no such thing at hand. They finally decided to leave one of the men to guard their prisoner, and on their return to camp another man took a rifle, went back, killed the goat, and the two bore him triumphantly down to camp. The gentleman says: "Had I not been an eye witness, and had I subsequently been shown the place where the goat stood thus at bay, I could scarcely have believed it possible for anything larger than a fly to have found footing there."Fortunately, however, the successful hunting of the goat is not always thus perilous, for though he habitually selects for his home the roughest and most inaccessible peaks to be found in the mountains,yet he sometimes ranges on more favorable ground, and if the sportsman be so fortunate as to find him there he may be killed and saved. They range somewhat lower in winter than in summer, but never even then venture down into the cañons or valleys, as do all the other large mountain animals. They only come down upon the lower peaks and ridges, and remain about the rocky walls, which are so precipitous that the snow can not lie on them to any considerable depth. Their power of climbing over and walking on these almost perpendicular rock walls is utterly astounding. They will walk along the side of an upright projecting ledge that towers hundreds of feet above and below them where a shelf projects not more than four or five inches wide. They will climb straight up an almost perpendicular wall, if only slightly rough and irregular, so that they can get a chance to hold on with their spongy hoofs here and there. And they seem to select these difficult passes in many instances when a good, easy passage could be had to the place to which they are bound by going a little further around. They seem to delight in scaling a dangerous cliff as a courageous boy does in climbing the tallest tree. I once saw where a goat had walked straight up over a smooth flat slab of granite ten feet wide, that laid at an angle of about fifty degrees, and that was covered with about two inches of wet snow and slush. I could not climb up it with moccasins on my feet, and no dog could have followed him there. This faculty is accounted for by the peculiar shape and quality of their hoofs before described.The skin of the Rocky Mountain goat has never had any regular commercial value. The stiff, coarse, brittle hair that is mixed with the wool renders them unsuitable for robes or rugs, and this hair can not readily be plucked out. The only demand for them is for mounting. Very few white hunters and none of the Indians understand how to skin and preserve them properly for this purpose, and this fact, taken in connection with that of the rough and dangerous nature of the ground they inhabit, makes it difficult to secure good skins, or even heads for mounting.The flesh of the goat is edible, but in the adult animal is dry and tasteless. When kids of less than a year old can be obtained, their flesh is tender and toothsome. They are not hunted, therefore, for meat, for in the ranges where they are found, deer, mountain sheep, or elks can be obtained much lower down and are much more desirable for the table.During a sojourn of a month in the Bitter Root Mountains, near Missoula, Mont., last fall I had some very exciting, not to say dangerous, experiences in hunting this animal. We were camped in Lost Horse Cañon, through which flows a typical mountain stream. The walls on both sides are very abrupt and from three to four thousand feet in height. That on the north is covered from bottom to top with great masses of granite that have been broken loose from the cliffs at the top by earthquakes, the action of frost, or other agency, and have tumbled down, breaking into irregular-shaped fragments, of all sizes, lodging and piling on top of each other in such a manner as to form a gigantic sort of pavement fromthe top of the mountain to the foot. There were narrow strips of the mountain side that had escaped these fallen masses. Here the outcropping granite remained in its natural shape—irregular ledges with small patches of earth intervening. Pines, hemlocks, cedars, and various kinds of shrubs grew in these places as far up the mountain side as the timber line.I ascended this north wall one morning and after a weary and toilsome climb of about two miles, and when in snow about six inches deep, I came upon the track of a very large goat. It was some hours old, but he had been feeding deliberately along the mountain side, and as they are not rapid travelers in any case, I knew he was not a great distance away. I took up the trail and followed it. It led over a succession of these vast rock piles, which, owing to their being covered with snow, made the traveling doubly dangerous. A slight misstep at any point, or an unfortunate slip would be liable to let my foot drop in between two of these rocks and throw me in such a way as to break a leg, an arm, or possibly my head. The greatest care was therefore necessary in picking my way over this dangerous country, and I was frequently struck with the wise provisions which Nature makes for fulfilling her ends when I saw where the animal I was pursuing had bounded lightly from rock to rock over chasms many feet in width; or where he had walked up the sharp edge of some slab of granite not more than three or four inches wide and lying at a high angle; or where he had walked up over a flat slab of it, tilted so steep that no other large animal in the mountains could have followed him. There weremany of his passages in which I could not follow, but I had to make slow and tortuous detours, coming upon his trail again beyond these most dangerous points.Had he traveled straight ahead I could never have overtaken him, but the time he consumed in frequently stopping to nip the tender leaves of the mountain alder or the juicy lichens that grow upon the rocks proved fatal to him, and finally, after a chase of probably two miles and when near the top of the peak close to timber line, I came in sight of him. He was truly a beautiful creature. There he stood, unconscious of approaching danger, looking calmly out across a neighboring cañon as if enjoying the grand scenery about him. Occasionally he turned to take a mouthful of some delicate mountain herb that stood near him. The pale creamy white of his fleece contrasted delicately and beautifully with the green of the cedars, the golden autumn-colored leaves of the shrubs, the dull gray of the granite rocks, and the pure white of the early autumn snow. The sunlight glistened upon the polished black of his proudly curved and beautifully rounded horns, and his large black eyes gleamed as with conscious innocence and pride. I contemplated his majestic mien for several minutes before I could nerve myself to the task of taking his life, but finally the hunter's instinct conquered my more delicate feelings. I put my rifle to my shoulder, pressed the gently yielding trigger, and in an instant more his life blood crimsoned the driven snow.After making temporary disposition of his remains, I returned as rapidly as possible to camp to get myphotographic outfit and some help to carry him in, for we were short of meat at the time. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when I reached camp, and, eating a hasty lunch, I started back up the mountain with three of my friends.When we again reached the carcass it was five o'clock, and our work must be done hastily in order to get down the mountain as far as possible before dark. To add to the discomfort of our undertaking a drizzling rain set in just as I was ready to make the views. I exposed a couple of plates, however, which fortunately turned out fairly. We then set to work to skin him as rapidly as possible, and as soon as this was accomplished we started on our return to camp, two of the men taking the two hind quarters of the animal, another my camera, and I the skin and head. With these loads, weighing from twenty-five to thirty-five pounds each, besides our rifles, and considering the difficult and dangerous nature of the ground we had to travel over and the fact that it was already beginning to grow dark, we had, indeed, a perilous journey before us. Climbing over these rock piles when covered with snow was difficult enough work in daylight, but to attempt it in the darkness and now that it was raining heavily, the snow having become wet and slushy and the rocks more slippery than before, it was doubly perilous.Our course lay diagonally down and along the side of the mountain, and as long as the light was sufficient to at all see where we were stepping we made fair progress. Frequently, however, someone would slip and fall, but fortunately without receiving any serious injury. We were often compelled to hold tosome shrub or tree and let ourselves down over projecting rocks several feet, where we could not possibly have stood up without such aid.Finally, when we were yet less than half way down the mountain side, it became pitch dark. Here we sat down to rest. The rain was falling in torrents, and but for the snow on the ground we could not now have seen a step ahead of us. We had entered one of those more favored strips of land where the falling rocks had not covered the ground entirely, and where there was a considerable growth of timber, both large trees and underbrush. I was in favor of going straight down through this into the creek bottom where we could at least walk in safety, even if our progress should be slower. One of my friends—Mr. Overturf—agreed with me, but the other two—Mr. McWhirk and Mr. Hinchman—preferred to continue over the rocks in a direct line to camp. We therefore decided to separate, Frank and I going straight down through this strip of timber and over the smoother ground, and the other two following the more direct course.We two reached the foot of the mountain in about an hour more; not, however, without encountering serious difficulties in grasping and finding our way down over precipitous rocks and earth, hanging on to one limb or shrub until we came in reach of another, and thus letting ourselves down safely. We were then about a mile and a half from camp. The creek bottom was densely timbered. There was a dim game trail leading through it up to our camp, but it was impossible to follow it in the darkness, and, in fact, it required the closest attention of experiencedwoodsmen and hunters to follow it in daylight. We were therefore utterly at sea. We were safe, however, and we heaved a sigh of relief when we found ourselves on level ground, for none of us had relished the idea of having a bone broken in that country, so far from medical aid and home comforts.Great snow slides had for ages been coming down these mountain sides bringing their débris, such as rocks, and logs, and whole trees with them. These had frequently gone some distance into the creek bottom, breaking and felling all the trees in their path. Tornadoes had raged through the cañon, also, breaking and lopping trees in various directions, so that we now encountered a body of woods through which the most expert woodsman could not possibly travel more than a mile an hour in daylight. Add to this the cimmerian darkness in which we were now groping (for there was no snow here in the bottom of the cañon) and the reader may well imagine that our progress was slow and tedious in the extreme.We sat down and held another consultation. I favored building a fire and staying there till morning, but Frank preferred pushing on to camp, so I acquiesced. We soon found, however, that it was utterly impossible for us to get through these windfalls in the darkness and with our heavy loads, and decided as a last resort to get into the bed of the creek and wade up it. We were already wet to the skin from head to foot, and this wading could be no worse than clambering over logs and through jungles of wet underbrush. We soon reached the creek and our hearts sank within us as we listened to its tumultuousroar and looked upon its angry bosom, for here we were enabled to see slightly, owing to the faint light admitted through the narrow opening in the trees overhead, how rough and boisterous it was! Its bed was a succession of bowlders from the size of a man's head to that of a small house, and its waters, coming direct from the snow, were ice cold. Yet to camp here was to suffer all night from wet and cold, and we preferred to push on.By keeping near the shore we could nearly all the time have brush to hang to and steady ourselves, but where there were none of these in reach our rubber boots slipped on the smooth wet rocks, and several times we fell into the icy flood up to our chins. Once, in particular, I fell in water nearly three feet deep, dropped my gun and it went to the bottom. I fished it out, however, staggered to my feet, and struggled on.After nearly two hours of this terrible trudging, wading, and staggering, we at last reached camp at eleven o'clock at night and triumphantly deposited our burdens within the tent.Our two friends, from whom we had separateden route, had arrived only half an hour ahead of us, and notwithstanding the rain, which still fell heavily, Dr. Hale, who had remained in camp, had a great log-heap fire blazing in front of the tent. A pot of coffee steamed by the fire, and a sumptuous supper of broiled bear steaks, baked potatoes, and hot biscuits awaited us, but I was too tired to eat. I drank a pint of hot coffee, put on dry flannels, crawled into my blankets, and slept soundly till morning.As further illustrating the habits of the mountain goat and the perils attending its capture, I may be permitted to narrate the experience of Mr. Westlake, a ranchman in Eastern Idaho, who attempted to procure a pair of skins for a friend in the East a few years ago. He employed a Flathead Indian as guide and assistant, who claimed to know the country thoroughly in which they purposed hunting, and to have had considerable experience in hunting goats. Mr. Westlake provided himself with a good saddle-horse and one pack-horse, a rifle, camp outfit, including a small tent, and provisions for himself and the Indian for twenty days. The Indian was fairly mounted on a small but tough Indian pony and well armed. They set out on September 2, and traveled across the country to the Clearwater river, up which they rode several days, over a very difficult and tedious trail, and when well up toward the head of the stream they reached the mouth of one of its tributaries which debouches from a deep and rugged cañon. Up this they decided to go, for it was their intention to reach the Bitter Root Mountains, one of the best known ranges for the goat.This cañon proved, like many others in that region, almost impassable for man or beast, and it was with the utmost difficulty and by the endurance of untold and incredible hardships that they were able to make seven or eight miles a day. They encountered plenty of game in the cañon, however, among which were elks, bears, and mule-deer, and the creek which ran through the cañon yielded them an abundance of trout, so that they fared sumptuously so far as food was concerned.Finally, after several days in this cañon, they reached the head of it and came out on a high plateau which was covered with heavy pine timber interspersed with beautiful parks or meadows and thickets of aspen and alder. Numerous springs boiling up here coursed down into the cañon from which they had just emerged, and fed the creek which ran through it. Pressing forward across this formation for a distance of about ten miles, they reached the base of one of the great snow-capped peaks, near the top of which they expected to find the particular game of which they were in search. But this mountain was so precipitous and so rough that it was impossible for them to get their horses up it in any way. They discussed various plans of accomplishing their object. It was highly dangerous to leave their horses here alone, lest the bears or mountain lions, which were so numerous in the vicinity, should stampede and run them off. It was impossible for either man to go alone and bring down two of the skins and heads suitably prepared for mounting, as they, with the other load which it was necessary to take along, would be more than any one man could carry. It would take two days to make the ascent, have a few hours for hunting, and return to where they then were, and in order to pass the night at all comfortably in that high altitude a liberal supply of blankets must be carried.They therefore decided, as the only feasible plan, to make camp where they were and start up early the next morning, leaving their horses behind. They made all possible preparations that night, and the next morning arose at four o'clock. By sunrisethey had breakfasted, and with their packs, consisting of two pairs of blankets each and a two days' supply of cooked food, they started. They did not dare picket or hobble their horses, as either would give the wild beasts a chance to attack and kill them, and could only trust to luck, an abundant supply of good grass and water, and the well-known attachment which nearly all Western horses feel for a camp, to keep them there until their return.After a hard day's climb they came upon abundant signs of goats about the middle of the afternoon, and, preparing a temporary bivouac under a shelving rock, they deposited their loads, made a pot of coffee, ate a hearty dinner, and started out to look for the game. They had not gone far when Mr. Westlake sighted a large, handsome male goat standing on the top of a cliff, and approaching within easy rifle range he fired and killed it. It fell some twenty or thirty feet, and lodged behind a projecting slab of granite. It was secured after considerable hard work, hastily skinned, and the skin and some of the best cuts of the meat carried to their temporary camp. Night was now approaching, and the hunters set about preparing a supply of wood. There were numerous dead pine and cedar trees, of stunted growth and peculiar shapes, standing and lying among the rocks, and a generous supply was soon provided. Next, a large quantity of cedar boughs were cut, brought in and spread under the overhanging rock, to a depth of a foot or more. On these the blankets were spread, and the hunters had a bed which many a tired lodger in Eastern city hotels might well envy them. By building a rousing firein front, which was reflected against the rock wall behind them, and by occasionally replenishing it during the night, they slept comfortably, though the temperature ran several degrees below zero.Early the next morning both men started out in search of a female goat to complete their undertaking. Nearly two hours had been spent in hunting, when the Indian found a fresh track in the snow some distance above their temporary camp. He followed it until it led in among a forest of rent and jagged cliffs of granite, and Westlake, who was some distance away, seeing by the Indian's motions that he was on a trail, started toward him. When within a few feet of where he had last seen the Indian he heard the report of his rifle, and a shout announced that his shot had been successful. Mr. Westlake followed on into the chasm from whence the report came and saw the Indian attempting to scale the side of a nearly perpendicular wall of rock, stepping cautiously from niche to niche and shelf to shelf; holding on with his hands to every projecting point that afforded him any assistance. He finally reached the top of the ledge, and reaching over caught hold of the now lifeless body of the goat that he had killed, and drew it toward him. But when it swung off from the top of the ledge its weight and the consequent strain on his muscular power was greater than the Indian had anticipated, and before he had time to let go of the carcass and save himself his slight hold on the rock was torn loose, and uttering a wild shriek he fell a distance of nearly sixty feet, striking on a heap of broken rocks! He was instantly killed.Here was a sad blow to poor Westlake. His only companion, his faithful guide, and the only human being within fifty miles of him, lay a corpse at his feet. He had no means whatever of getting the body back to their camp, much less of returning it to the unfortunate red man's friends. He had not even a tool of any kind to dig a grave with, and the only thing he could do in that direction was to build a wall of rocks around the body, lay some flat slabs across the top, and then carry and lay on top of these a number of the largest and heaviest rocks he could handle, to protect it from the ravages of wild beasts. When this sad duty was completed he returned with a heavy heart to their temporary camp, and with as much of their luggage as he was able to carry started down the mountain. Arriving about noon at the tent, he was horrified to find the tracks of a large bear in and about it, the greater portion of his supplies eaten up or destroyed, and his horses nowhere in sight. A hasty examination showed that the bear had passed through the little park in which they had last been grazing—evidently early that morning—that they had taken flight and fled in the direction of the head of the cañon up which they had come. Westlake followed them several miles until convinced that they had really started on their back trail, and then he returned to camp. By this time night was again approaching and it was with a heavy heart that he prepared to pass it there, all alone, and still further depressed with the thought that he had now a journey of a hundred miles or more before him, to the nearest settlement, which he must undoubtedly make on foot.He ate his supper alone and in sadness, and as the camp fire blazed in front of his tent it cast fitful shadows into the gloom, which was unbroken by any sound save the occasional soughing of the wind through the pine trees or the cry of some wild animal. He finally retired to rest, but his sleep was broken by troubled dreams. As the sun arose he prepared a hasty meal, which was eaten in silence, and with a pair of blankets, a few pounds of flour, salt, and coffee, and his rifle, he started, leaving his tent standing and all else in it as a monument to the memory of his friend and a landmark to future hunters and mountaineers to locate the scene of his great misfortune. He traveled seven days before seeing the face of a human being or sleeping under a shelter of any kind, when he finally reached a ranch where his horses had preceded him and had been corraled to await an owner.It is fortunate that all goat hunters do not meet with such disasters as did poor Westlake and his young friend, or the noble sport would have still fewer votaries than it now has.
224
NATIVE BUFFALO HUNTERS.
The majority of the hunters mounted and rode southwest early in the morning. Seven men in one party sighted a herd of buffaloes numbering about 200, and dismounting, when within a mile, cached their horses in a coulee, and began a cautious advance.
They found a deep and crooked ravine into which they crawled, and in which they were able to approach to within about 400 yards of the nearest animals. A gentle breeze blew from the game toward the hunters, and taking advantage of the most favorable point, they crawled up the steep bank to where they could command a good view of the game. The "tenderfeet" in the party were in favor of firing a volley, but an old hunter who had led them advised them to fire singly, and at intervals of a minute or two, this plan being much less likely to frighten the game. He cautioned them to take very careful aim, to make every shot count, and to wound as few animals as possible. One slightly wounded animal, he said, would create more uneasiness among the herd than ten dead or fatally wounded ones.
Several of this party were good marksmen, andhad good strong-shooting, long-range rifles. Though, they shot heavy charges, yet, the wind in their favor, at this long distance, the animals would scarcely hear the reports. The leader advised them to shoot only at animals broadside, and gave them careful directions as to elevation and where to aim. Evans opened the fire with a sixteen-pound 50-calibre Sharp's. Immediately after the report the emphatic "thud" of the bullet came back and a large cow was seen to drop on her knees, get up again, stagger away a few rods and lie down.
"Good," said the old hunter. "Now, Pete, you go."
"Pete fired, and an old bull whisked his tail, walked sullenly away, turned around a few times, and fell dead. Another complimentary remark from the old hunter, and then he said:
"Now I guess I'll try one."
He fired, but to his great chagrin did just what he had cautioned the others not to do, broke a fore leg below the knee. This cow commenced to bellow and "buck," and in an instant the whole herd was in commotion.
"Stop her, somebody, stop her, or she'll stampede the hull bizness!" he said, as he pushed another bullet into his muzzle loader. By this time she had stopped broadside, for a moment, at the edge of the herd, and the journalist, at the order of the boss, drew a bead on her. The "spat" of the heavy bullet told of a palpable "hit". She no longer felt like running, but was not yet down and it took two more bullets to lay her out. The next shot was a clean miss, so far as it concerned the animal shot at, but it woundedone somewhere in the herd. Then there was more commotion and it was evident the "stand" was at an end.
"Give it to 'em, everybody," the old hunter now said, and a fusillade followed that soon put them under full speed.
The hunters now mounted their horses and made a "run" on the band that resulted in some very exciting sport and the death of three more buffaloes. This over, they returned to the scene of the first firing and gralloched the seven animals killed "on the stand." Then they mounted their tired beasts again and were on the point of starting for camp when they heard strange noises, and looking toward the west beheld a great black surging mass, waving and rolling up across the prairie, half hidden by great clouds of dust which were only occasionally blown away by the brisk autumn wind. It was the great herd of buffalo, and they had been stampeded by the Indian hunters. The roar of the hoofs upon the dry earth was like the low and sullen thunder. The vanguard of the herd was yet more than a mile away, but the dark line stretched to right and left almost as far as the eye could reach, and our hunters saw that instant and precipitate flight was necessary in order to save their lives. They specially chose the northward as offering the shortest and best direction by which to escape the coming avalanche, and sinking the spurs deep into their terror-stricken beasts, they flew with the velocity of an arrow across the wild prairie. A mile was covered in a few seconds, and yet they were not past the herd, which was rapidly closing in upon them.
228
THE FIRST RUN.
They turned their horses' heads partly in the direction the buffaloes were going and, urging them to their utmost speed, finally passed the outer line of the herd just as the leaders passed by. Then, having reached a place of safety, they dismounted, and throwing their bridle reins over their arms commenced to load and fire into the herd with all possible rapidity, nearly every shot killing or disabling an animal. It took nearly half an hour for the rolling, surging, angry horde to pass the point where our hunters stood, and as the rear guard came in sight there came a new and still more terrible scene in the great tragedy.
More than a hundred Indians were in hot pursuit of the savage beasts. They were mounted on wild and almost ungovernable bronchos, who were frothing at the mouth, charging and cavorting amongst the fleeing game. The white foam dropped in flakes and bubbles from all parts of their bodies. Their nostrils were distended, their eyes flashed fire, and they seemed as eager as their wild masters to deal death to the buffaloes. The savage riders seemed beside themselves with mad, ungovernable passion.
Their faces were painted in the most glaring colors, their bright and many-colored blankets fluttered in the wind secured to the saddle only by an end or a corner, their long black hair streaming back like the pennant at the mast head of a ship, and their deep black eyes gleamed like coals of fire in a dungeon. Arrow after arrow flew from deep-strung bows and sunk to the feathered tip in the quivering flesh of the shaggy monsters.
Ponderous spears were hurled with the power and precision of giants and struck down the defenceless victims as a sturdy woodman strikes down the frail sapling in his path.
"Crack!" "crack!" came from rifles, and "ping!" "ping!" from carbines and revolvers. Hundreds of shots were fired by those who carried firearms, and before these murderous weapons, the poor bison sank like ripened grain before the reaper's blade.
One young warrior, more ardent and fearless than the rest, had forced his high-strung steed far into the midst of the solid phalanx, where the horse was finally impaled upon the horns of a monster bull. He and his rider were tossed like sheaves of wheat into the air; then both sank to earth, and were instantly trodden into the dust.
At last the great storm had passed, and our friends watched until it faded away in the distance and finally disappeared from their view.
Then came the squaws, the boys, and the old men, to dispatch the wounded and to skin and cut up the dead. These were strewn all over the prairie, and not a tithe of them were, or could be, saved by all the people, white and red, assembled there.
Our hunters returned to camp at sunset, where they met those of their companions who had been out during the afternoon, and over the evening camp fire, each related the thrilling incidents which he had witnessed, or in which he had participated during the day.
On the following morning they again started out in several parties of five or six each and going in variousdirections. Frank and the newspaper man started with three others, but soon separated from them to go after a small band which they had sighted about two miles south of camp.
When within a proper distance, they dismounted, picketed their horses in a swale, and stalking to within about a hundred yards opened fire. A young cow dropped at the first shot, to all appearances dead, and the remainder of the band scurried away, one old bull being badly wounded. The hunters started to run to the top of a ridge, over which the game had gone, to get another shot. As they passed the cow the guide called to his companion to look out for her, as she was only "creased" and liable to get up again and charge them. They had gone but a few rods, when, sure enough, she did spring to her feet and make a dash at Frank. He turned to shoot her, but his gun missed fire, and as he attempted to throw out the cartridge, the action failed to work, and his gun was, for the moment, disabled. By this time she was almost on him, and as his only means of escape, he sprang into a "washout" (a ditch that had been cut by the water, some ten feet deep), the sides of which were perpendicular.
He called loudly for help, but his friend had not seen the charge, and was by this time a hundred yards away. He turned and saw the cow, almost blind with rage, rapidly jumping back and forth across the washout, in a mad effort to get at the guide, but she seemed unwilling to jump down into it. She was shot through the throat, and the blood, flowing from her in torrents, had deluged poorFrank, until he looked as if he had been at work in a slaughter-house. The scribe ran back, killed the cow, and drew his friend from his sanguinary retreat.
The guide then repaired his gun, and mounting their horses they pursued the wounded bull. They soon found him at bay, and riding up close to him, commenced firing at him with their revolvers. Quick as a flash of lightning he made a frightful charge at the journalist, who, taken by surprise, was unable to avoid the rush. Both horse and rider were dashed to the earth. The horse was so badly injured as to be unable to rise, and as the burly antagonist made another rush at him, the man was enabled to seek safety in flight, and before the bull again turned his attention to the fugitive, the rapid and well-directed fire of the scout had brought the shaggy beast to the earth.
The horse was fatally injured and had to be shot, so our friends, with one horse between them, took turns riding and walking to camp.
This day's killing by the party was large, and supplied all their wants as to meat, skins, and sport. The next few days were devoted to jerking meat, dressing and drying skins, and preparing for the return journey, and in ten days from the date of their arrival on the hunting ground, the teams were all loaded up, camp was broken, and the homeward march was begun, which progressed uneventfully from day to day, and was made in safety in about the same time occupied in going out.
Twice during the hunt the party were alarmed by the discovery of Indians lurking about their camp,late in the night. The guards discovered them in both instances, and fired on them, when they beat a hasty retreat and disappeared in the darkness. It was not known that their object was anything worse than pilfering, and yet there was little doubt that had they found the party all off guard and asleep, a massacre would have resulted. But, true to their aboriginal instincts, they did not wish to engage in a fight with a formidable foe, whom they found ever ready for such an emergency.
233
PROWLERS.
Such scenes and such sport as this party enjoyed were common almost anywhere on the great plains west of the Missouri river up to a few years ago. Herds of buffalo extending over a tract of land, as large as one of the New England States, and numbering hundreds of thousands of heads, might be found any day in what was then "buffalo country." An army officer told me that, when crossing the plains in 1867 with a company of cavalry, he encountered a herd that it took his command three days to ride through, marching about thirty miles a day.
When two of our transcontinental railways werefirst built it was no uncommon thing for herds of buffalo to delay trains for several hours in crossing the tracks, the animals being packed in so close together that the train could not force a passage through them.
But, alas, those days are passed forever. This noble creature, provided to feed the human multitude who should people the prairies, is to-day practically extinct; slaughtered and annihilated by that jackal of the plains, that coyote in human shape, the "skin hunter." Hundreds of thousands of buffaloes were annually killed, their skins sold at from seventy-five cents to a dollar and a half each, and the meat which, when properly taken care of, is equal, if not superior, to the finest domestic beef, was left to rot on the ground.
There are scarcely a hundred buffaloes left on the continent to day in their wild state. A very few stragglers are known to be in the Panhandle of Texas, a small bunch in the Yellowstone National Park, and a few in the British Northwest, but they are being remorselessly pursued by large numbers of hunters, and it is safe to say that a year hence not one will be left in the whole broad West unless it be those in the park, and they will escape only in case they stay within the park limits where they are protected by United States soldiers. Should they ever stray beyond the bounds of the park they will all be killed in less than a week.
Several small bunches have been domesticated by Western cattlemen, and it is hoped the species may, by this means, be saved from total extinction. They are being successfully cross-bred with domesticcattle, and an excellent strain of stock is thus produced, but the grand herds that for ages roamed at will over the great plains are a thing of the past.
235
HUNTING THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT.
HEREis, perhaps, no large mammal in this country of which the scientific world and the reading public in general knows so little as of the Rocky Mountain goat (Aplocerus Montanus). There are several reasons for this. First, its limited range. It is confined to a small area of the Rocky Mountains, principally west of the main divide; to Western Montana, Eastern Idaho, the Cascade Range in Washington Territory, a small portion of British Columbia, and to Alaska. Secondly, its habitat is the tops or near the tops of the highest and most rugged peaks and cliffs, where none but the hardiest and most daring hunter may venture in pursuit of it, and so comparatively very few are ever killed and brought into the settlements. Third, it can not be successfully domesticated. Its favorite food is so different from that generally growing in or near any settlement, the atmosphere it breathes, the mean temperature in which it lives, and the ground, or rather rocks, on which it is accustomed to walk, so widely different from those surrounding any human habitation, that the fewyoung that have been captured and brought down to the settlements have soon died. So that none of them are found in parks and zoological gardens, as are specimens of nearly all other large wild animals.There are fewer mounted skins of this animal in Eastern museums than of any other species indigenous to this country, and hence the public and naturalists have had fewer opportunities to study and become familiar with it than with other wild mammals. Yet it is one of the most beautiful and interesting of all our American quadrupeds, and probably no sportsman or naturalist has ever yet mustered courage and hardihood enough to go where he could kill a Rocky Mountain goat without feeling amply repaid for all the labor and hardship encountered by being able to behold this mystic creature in his lofty mountain home. In view of the limited facilities people have had for studying this animal a somewhat minute description of it may not be amiss here.In size it is but a trifle larger than the Merino sheep, which, in fact, it closely resembles in many respects. The form of its body is robust, fore parts rather thicker than hinder parts, with a slight hump over shoulders, similar to that of the American bison. Its color is entirely white, or, in some instances, of a light creamy shade. Hair long and pendant. A beard-like tuft of hair on the chin. Long coarse hair, more abundant, on shoulders, neck, and back. Under and intermixed with this long hair there is a close coat of fine, silky, white wool, equal in fineness to that of the Cashmere goat. Hair on face and legs short and without wool. Horns(which are present in both sexes) jet black, small, conical, nearly erect, polished, and curving slightly backward; ringed or wrinkled at the base, much like those of the chamois. Muzzle and hoofs also black. False or accessory hoofs present. Dentition: Incisors, 8 lower; canines, none; molars, 12 upper, 12 lower; total 32. The mountain goat brings forth two or three young at a time, usually late in May or early in June. Slightly gregarious, being frequently found in small bands in winter, but in summer season not more than a single family is usually seen together, and in summer and fall the older males may frequently be found entirely alone. The nose is nearly straight, ears rather long, pointed, and lined with long hair. Tail six to eight inches long, clothed with long hair. Legs thick and short. Hoofs grooved on sole and provided with a thick spongy mass of cartilage in centre, projecting below the outer edges of hoof, enabling the animal to cling firmly to steep or smooth rocks. The dimensions of one adult male specimen measured are as follows: Length from tip of nose to root of tail, 3 feet 7 inches; length of tail, 7 inches; length of head, 11-3/4 inches; length of horns, 8-1/2 inches; diameter of horns at base, 1 inch. Its estimated gross weight is 130 pounds.
HEREis, perhaps, no large mammal in this country of which the scientific world and the reading public in general knows so little as of the Rocky Mountain goat (Aplocerus Montanus). There are several reasons for this. First, its limited range. It is confined to a small area of the Rocky Mountains, principally west of the main divide; to Western Montana, Eastern Idaho, the Cascade Range in Washington Territory, a small portion of British Columbia, and to Alaska. Secondly, its habitat is the tops or near the tops of the highest and most rugged peaks and cliffs, where none but the hardiest and most daring hunter may venture in pursuit of it, and so comparatively very few are ever killed and brought into the settlements. Third, it can not be successfully domesticated. Its favorite food is so different from that generally growing in or near any settlement, the atmosphere it breathes, the mean temperature in which it lives, and the ground, or rather rocks, on which it is accustomed to walk, so widely different from those surrounding any human habitation, that the fewyoung that have been captured and brought down to the settlements have soon died. So that none of them are found in parks and zoological gardens, as are specimens of nearly all other large wild animals.
There are fewer mounted skins of this animal in Eastern museums than of any other species indigenous to this country, and hence the public and naturalists have had fewer opportunities to study and become familiar with it than with other wild mammals. Yet it is one of the most beautiful and interesting of all our American quadrupeds, and probably no sportsman or naturalist has ever yet mustered courage and hardihood enough to go where he could kill a Rocky Mountain goat without feeling amply repaid for all the labor and hardship encountered by being able to behold this mystic creature in his lofty mountain home. In view of the limited facilities people have had for studying this animal a somewhat minute description of it may not be amiss here.
In size it is but a trifle larger than the Merino sheep, which, in fact, it closely resembles in many respects. The form of its body is robust, fore parts rather thicker than hinder parts, with a slight hump over shoulders, similar to that of the American bison. Its color is entirely white, or, in some instances, of a light creamy shade. Hair long and pendant. A beard-like tuft of hair on the chin. Long coarse hair, more abundant, on shoulders, neck, and back. Under and intermixed with this long hair there is a close coat of fine, silky, white wool, equal in fineness to that of the Cashmere goat. Hair on face and legs short and without wool. Horns(which are present in both sexes) jet black, small, conical, nearly erect, polished, and curving slightly backward; ringed or wrinkled at the base, much like those of the chamois. Muzzle and hoofs also black. False or accessory hoofs present. Dentition: Incisors, 8 lower; canines, none; molars, 12 upper, 12 lower; total 32. The mountain goat brings forth two or three young at a time, usually late in May or early in June. Slightly gregarious, being frequently found in small bands in winter, but in summer season not more than a single family is usually seen together, and in summer and fall the older males may frequently be found entirely alone. The nose is nearly straight, ears rather long, pointed, and lined with long hair. Tail six to eight inches long, clothed with long hair. Legs thick and short. Hoofs grooved on sole and provided with a thick spongy mass of cartilage in centre, projecting below the outer edges of hoof, enabling the animal to cling firmly to steep or smooth rocks. The dimensions of one adult male specimen measured are as follows: Length from tip of nose to root of tail, 3 feet 7 inches; length of tail, 7 inches; length of head, 11-3/4 inches; length of horns, 8-1/2 inches; diameter of horns at base, 1 inch. Its estimated gross weight is 130 pounds.
The food of the mountain goat consists principally, in summer, of the leaves of the alder and of various mountain shrubs, and in winter of mosses and lichens that grow on the rocks.
Aplocerus Montanusis much more closely allied to the antelope than to the domestic goat, and has few characteristics in common with the lattergenus. He is an agile, fearless climber, and appears to delight in scaling the tallest, grandest, and most rugged crags and cliffs to be found in the ranges which he inhabits, not so much in quest of his favorite food, for this grows abundantly lower down, but apparently from a mere spirit of daring; from a desire to breathe the rarest and purest atmosphere obtainable, and to view the grandest scenery under the sun without having his vision in the least obstructed by intervening objects. These forbidding and almost inaccessible crags are the favorite, and nearly the exclusive, haunts of this strange creature, and the hunter who follows it thither must indeed be a daring mountaineer. The goat is frequently found at altitudes of 10,000 to 14,000 feet, where the atmosphere is so rare as to render it difficult indeed for man to climb, yet this fearless creature nimbly leaps from crag to crag, over deep yawning chasms, with no more fear than the domestic lamb feels when bounding over the greensward in an Eastern farmyard.
The hunter literally takes his life in his hand when pursuing the goat, for he must pass over many places where a misstep or a slip of a few inches would plunge him over a precipice, where he would fall thousands of feet, or be hurled into some narrow and deep fissure in the rocks whence escape would be impossible.
Over such rugged and perilous ground he may climb, hour after hour, until he has passed the highest ranges of the elk, the mountain sheep, and all the other game, for the mountain goat, "the American chamois," as he has been aptly termed, rangeshigher than any of them. He may toil on until he is far above timber line, and is working his way over and around vast drifts and beds of perpetual snow and ice. Finally he sights his game—a fine handsome specimen—standing fearlessly on some jutting crag, deliberately feeding on some tender lichens or, perhaps, peering proudly out over the lower world. The hunter now changes his course until he can conceal himself behind some neighboring rock, and then crawls stealthily and cautiously up to within rifle range of the game. Then, peering cautiously from behind his cover, he takes careful aim and fires. He is a dead shot and the rifle ball pierces the heart of the quarry, but to his dismay it makes a convulsive bound and down it goes over the precipice, rebounding from crag to crag, until it finally reaches a resting place hundreds of feet below. It may go to where he can never reach it, or may land where he can recover it on his return down the mountain side; but if the latter, it may be torn to fragments and scattered here and there until the hide is useless, the horns are broken off, the skull crushed so that the head is unfit to mount, and the flesh so bruised and mangled that he can scarcely save enough of it to make him a dinner.
A few years ago an officer of the United States army and a party of friends were hunting goats in the Bitter Root Mountains, near Missoula, Mont. They followed two—a male and female—to the top of a rough and dangerous peak, when the game, before they could get a shot at it, started down the opposite side and took refuge from the hunters under a shelving rock. Here it was, owing to thenature of the rocks and ice, absolutely impossible for the hunters to follow them on foot, but the intrepid officer, not to be baffled in the pursuit, tied a long rope securely around his body, just under his arms, laid down, and grasping his rifle slid quietly down, on a bed of ice, some sixty or seventy feet, while his companions held on to the other end of the rope and controlled his perilous descent. Finally, when he had gone far enough to be able to see the game, he signaled his friends, who stopped him, and raising on his elbows he fired and killed both goats, and was then drawn up again in safety. Such, however, was the nature of the rocks between him and the carcasses that it was utterly impossible to reach them after he had killed them, and he was compelled reluctantly to abandon them. Several members of the party tried to reach them from other points, but were unable to do so, and they were all obliged to return empty-handed to camp.
In another instance this same officer, upon crawling out on the edge of a shelving rock and looking down over a precipice hundreds of feet below, saw two goats near the base, but they were actually inside of a perpendicular line running down from the edge of the rock he occupied, and he was therefore unable to bring his rifle to bear upon them without projecting his body out over the edge of the rock further than was safe. After discussing the matter for some minutes, one of his friends offered to hold his feet and thus enable him to extend his head and shoulders far enough out to get his aim. By this means both of the goats were killed, but a partyhad to go around and ascend the mountain from the other side in order to secure them.
The same party, while climbing the rugged and almost perpendicular face of Little Mountain to bring down some goats they had already killed, came suddenly upon a large buck in a narrow V-shaped fissure in the rock, from which there was no escape but by the opening at which they had entered, and across this they formed a skirmish line. The goat climbed upon a narrow projection on one of the walls of the fissure just out of reach of the tallest man in the party, and as they had no rifles with them (having left them below to lighten the labor of the ascent), they tried to dislodge him by throwing rocks at him, but their footing was so insecure and there was such great danger of their falling that they could not hurl these with sufficient force to bring him down though several of them hit him. If they had had a rope they could easily have lassoed him, but there was no such thing at hand. They finally decided to leave one of the men to guard their prisoner, and on their return to camp another man took a rifle, went back, killed the goat, and the two bore him triumphantly down to camp. The gentleman says: "Had I not been an eye witness, and had I subsequently been shown the place where the goat stood thus at bay, I could scarcely have believed it possible for anything larger than a fly to have found footing there."
Fortunately, however, the successful hunting of the goat is not always thus perilous, for though he habitually selects for his home the roughest and most inaccessible peaks to be found in the mountains,yet he sometimes ranges on more favorable ground, and if the sportsman be so fortunate as to find him there he may be killed and saved. They range somewhat lower in winter than in summer, but never even then venture down into the cañons or valleys, as do all the other large mountain animals. They only come down upon the lower peaks and ridges, and remain about the rocky walls, which are so precipitous that the snow can not lie on them to any considerable depth. Their power of climbing over and walking on these almost perpendicular rock walls is utterly astounding. They will walk along the side of an upright projecting ledge that towers hundreds of feet above and below them where a shelf projects not more than four or five inches wide. They will climb straight up an almost perpendicular wall, if only slightly rough and irregular, so that they can get a chance to hold on with their spongy hoofs here and there. And they seem to select these difficult passes in many instances when a good, easy passage could be had to the place to which they are bound by going a little further around. They seem to delight in scaling a dangerous cliff as a courageous boy does in climbing the tallest tree. I once saw where a goat had walked straight up over a smooth flat slab of granite ten feet wide, that laid at an angle of about fifty degrees, and that was covered with about two inches of wet snow and slush. I could not climb up it with moccasins on my feet, and no dog could have followed him there. This faculty is accounted for by the peculiar shape and quality of their hoofs before described.
The skin of the Rocky Mountain goat has never had any regular commercial value. The stiff, coarse, brittle hair that is mixed with the wool renders them unsuitable for robes or rugs, and this hair can not readily be plucked out. The only demand for them is for mounting. Very few white hunters and none of the Indians understand how to skin and preserve them properly for this purpose, and this fact, taken in connection with that of the rough and dangerous nature of the ground they inhabit, makes it difficult to secure good skins, or even heads for mounting.
The flesh of the goat is edible, but in the adult animal is dry and tasteless. When kids of less than a year old can be obtained, their flesh is tender and toothsome. They are not hunted, therefore, for meat, for in the ranges where they are found, deer, mountain sheep, or elks can be obtained much lower down and are much more desirable for the table.
During a sojourn of a month in the Bitter Root Mountains, near Missoula, Mont., last fall I had some very exciting, not to say dangerous, experiences in hunting this animal. We were camped in Lost Horse Cañon, through which flows a typical mountain stream. The walls on both sides are very abrupt and from three to four thousand feet in height. That on the north is covered from bottom to top with great masses of granite that have been broken loose from the cliffs at the top by earthquakes, the action of frost, or other agency, and have tumbled down, breaking into irregular-shaped fragments, of all sizes, lodging and piling on top of each other in such a manner as to form a gigantic sort of pavement fromthe top of the mountain to the foot. There were narrow strips of the mountain side that had escaped these fallen masses. Here the outcropping granite remained in its natural shape—irregular ledges with small patches of earth intervening. Pines, hemlocks, cedars, and various kinds of shrubs grew in these places as far up the mountain side as the timber line.
I ascended this north wall one morning and after a weary and toilsome climb of about two miles, and when in snow about six inches deep, I came upon the track of a very large goat. It was some hours old, but he had been feeding deliberately along the mountain side, and as they are not rapid travelers in any case, I knew he was not a great distance away. I took up the trail and followed it. It led over a succession of these vast rock piles, which, owing to their being covered with snow, made the traveling doubly dangerous. A slight misstep at any point, or an unfortunate slip would be liable to let my foot drop in between two of these rocks and throw me in such a way as to break a leg, an arm, or possibly my head. The greatest care was therefore necessary in picking my way over this dangerous country, and I was frequently struck with the wise provisions which Nature makes for fulfilling her ends when I saw where the animal I was pursuing had bounded lightly from rock to rock over chasms many feet in width; or where he had walked up the sharp edge of some slab of granite not more than three or four inches wide and lying at a high angle; or where he had walked up over a flat slab of it, tilted so steep that no other large animal in the mountains could have followed him. There weremany of his passages in which I could not follow, but I had to make slow and tortuous detours, coming upon his trail again beyond these most dangerous points.
Had he traveled straight ahead I could never have overtaken him, but the time he consumed in frequently stopping to nip the tender leaves of the mountain alder or the juicy lichens that grow upon the rocks proved fatal to him, and finally, after a chase of probably two miles and when near the top of the peak close to timber line, I came in sight of him. He was truly a beautiful creature. There he stood, unconscious of approaching danger, looking calmly out across a neighboring cañon as if enjoying the grand scenery about him. Occasionally he turned to take a mouthful of some delicate mountain herb that stood near him. The pale creamy white of his fleece contrasted delicately and beautifully with the green of the cedars, the golden autumn-colored leaves of the shrubs, the dull gray of the granite rocks, and the pure white of the early autumn snow. The sunlight glistened upon the polished black of his proudly curved and beautifully rounded horns, and his large black eyes gleamed as with conscious innocence and pride. I contemplated his majestic mien for several minutes before I could nerve myself to the task of taking his life, but finally the hunter's instinct conquered my more delicate feelings. I put my rifle to my shoulder, pressed the gently yielding trigger, and in an instant more his life blood crimsoned the driven snow.
After making temporary disposition of his remains, I returned as rapidly as possible to camp to get myphotographic outfit and some help to carry him in, for we were short of meat at the time. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when I reached camp, and, eating a hasty lunch, I started back up the mountain with three of my friends.
When we again reached the carcass it was five o'clock, and our work must be done hastily in order to get down the mountain as far as possible before dark. To add to the discomfort of our undertaking a drizzling rain set in just as I was ready to make the views. I exposed a couple of plates, however, which fortunately turned out fairly. We then set to work to skin him as rapidly as possible, and as soon as this was accomplished we started on our return to camp, two of the men taking the two hind quarters of the animal, another my camera, and I the skin and head. With these loads, weighing from twenty-five to thirty-five pounds each, besides our rifles, and considering the difficult and dangerous nature of the ground we had to travel over and the fact that it was already beginning to grow dark, we had, indeed, a perilous journey before us. Climbing over these rock piles when covered with snow was difficult enough work in daylight, but to attempt it in the darkness and now that it was raining heavily, the snow having become wet and slushy and the rocks more slippery than before, it was doubly perilous.
Our course lay diagonally down and along the side of the mountain, and as long as the light was sufficient to at all see where we were stepping we made fair progress. Frequently, however, someone would slip and fall, but fortunately without receiving any serious injury. We were often compelled to hold tosome shrub or tree and let ourselves down over projecting rocks several feet, where we could not possibly have stood up without such aid.
Finally, when we were yet less than half way down the mountain side, it became pitch dark. Here we sat down to rest. The rain was falling in torrents, and but for the snow on the ground we could not now have seen a step ahead of us. We had entered one of those more favored strips of land where the falling rocks had not covered the ground entirely, and where there was a considerable growth of timber, both large trees and underbrush. I was in favor of going straight down through this into the creek bottom where we could at least walk in safety, even if our progress should be slower. One of my friends—Mr. Overturf—agreed with me, but the other two—Mr. McWhirk and Mr. Hinchman—preferred to continue over the rocks in a direct line to camp. We therefore decided to separate, Frank and I going straight down through this strip of timber and over the smoother ground, and the other two following the more direct course.
We two reached the foot of the mountain in about an hour more; not, however, without encountering serious difficulties in grasping and finding our way down over precipitous rocks and earth, hanging on to one limb or shrub until we came in reach of another, and thus letting ourselves down safely. We were then about a mile and a half from camp. The creek bottom was densely timbered. There was a dim game trail leading through it up to our camp, but it was impossible to follow it in the darkness, and, in fact, it required the closest attention of experiencedwoodsmen and hunters to follow it in daylight. We were therefore utterly at sea. We were safe, however, and we heaved a sigh of relief when we found ourselves on level ground, for none of us had relished the idea of having a bone broken in that country, so far from medical aid and home comforts.
Great snow slides had for ages been coming down these mountain sides bringing their débris, such as rocks, and logs, and whole trees with them. These had frequently gone some distance into the creek bottom, breaking and felling all the trees in their path. Tornadoes had raged through the cañon, also, breaking and lopping trees in various directions, so that we now encountered a body of woods through which the most expert woodsman could not possibly travel more than a mile an hour in daylight. Add to this the cimmerian darkness in which we were now groping (for there was no snow here in the bottom of the cañon) and the reader may well imagine that our progress was slow and tedious in the extreme.
We sat down and held another consultation. I favored building a fire and staying there till morning, but Frank preferred pushing on to camp, so I acquiesced. We soon found, however, that it was utterly impossible for us to get through these windfalls in the darkness and with our heavy loads, and decided as a last resort to get into the bed of the creek and wade up it. We were already wet to the skin from head to foot, and this wading could be no worse than clambering over logs and through jungles of wet underbrush. We soon reached the creek and our hearts sank within us as we listened to its tumultuousroar and looked upon its angry bosom, for here we were enabled to see slightly, owing to the faint light admitted through the narrow opening in the trees overhead, how rough and boisterous it was! Its bed was a succession of bowlders from the size of a man's head to that of a small house, and its waters, coming direct from the snow, were ice cold. Yet to camp here was to suffer all night from wet and cold, and we preferred to push on.
By keeping near the shore we could nearly all the time have brush to hang to and steady ourselves, but where there were none of these in reach our rubber boots slipped on the smooth wet rocks, and several times we fell into the icy flood up to our chins. Once, in particular, I fell in water nearly three feet deep, dropped my gun and it went to the bottom. I fished it out, however, staggered to my feet, and struggled on.
After nearly two hours of this terrible trudging, wading, and staggering, we at last reached camp at eleven o'clock at night and triumphantly deposited our burdens within the tent.
Our two friends, from whom we had separateden route, had arrived only half an hour ahead of us, and notwithstanding the rain, which still fell heavily, Dr. Hale, who had remained in camp, had a great log-heap fire blazing in front of the tent. A pot of coffee steamed by the fire, and a sumptuous supper of broiled bear steaks, baked potatoes, and hot biscuits awaited us, but I was too tired to eat. I drank a pint of hot coffee, put on dry flannels, crawled into my blankets, and slept soundly till morning.
As further illustrating the habits of the mountain goat and the perils attending its capture, I may be permitted to narrate the experience of Mr. Westlake, a ranchman in Eastern Idaho, who attempted to procure a pair of skins for a friend in the East a few years ago. He employed a Flathead Indian as guide and assistant, who claimed to know the country thoroughly in which they purposed hunting, and to have had considerable experience in hunting goats. Mr. Westlake provided himself with a good saddle-horse and one pack-horse, a rifle, camp outfit, including a small tent, and provisions for himself and the Indian for twenty days. The Indian was fairly mounted on a small but tough Indian pony and well armed. They set out on September 2, and traveled across the country to the Clearwater river, up which they rode several days, over a very difficult and tedious trail, and when well up toward the head of the stream they reached the mouth of one of its tributaries which debouches from a deep and rugged cañon. Up this they decided to go, for it was their intention to reach the Bitter Root Mountains, one of the best known ranges for the goat.
This cañon proved, like many others in that region, almost impassable for man or beast, and it was with the utmost difficulty and by the endurance of untold and incredible hardships that they were able to make seven or eight miles a day. They encountered plenty of game in the cañon, however, among which were elks, bears, and mule-deer, and the creek which ran through the cañon yielded them an abundance of trout, so that they fared sumptuously so far as food was concerned.
Finally, after several days in this cañon, they reached the head of it and came out on a high plateau which was covered with heavy pine timber interspersed with beautiful parks or meadows and thickets of aspen and alder. Numerous springs boiling up here coursed down into the cañon from which they had just emerged, and fed the creek which ran through it. Pressing forward across this formation for a distance of about ten miles, they reached the base of one of the great snow-capped peaks, near the top of which they expected to find the particular game of which they were in search. But this mountain was so precipitous and so rough that it was impossible for them to get their horses up it in any way. They discussed various plans of accomplishing their object. It was highly dangerous to leave their horses here alone, lest the bears or mountain lions, which were so numerous in the vicinity, should stampede and run them off. It was impossible for either man to go alone and bring down two of the skins and heads suitably prepared for mounting, as they, with the other load which it was necessary to take along, would be more than any one man could carry. It would take two days to make the ascent, have a few hours for hunting, and return to where they then were, and in order to pass the night at all comfortably in that high altitude a liberal supply of blankets must be carried.
They therefore decided, as the only feasible plan, to make camp where they were and start up early the next morning, leaving their horses behind. They made all possible preparations that night, and the next morning arose at four o'clock. By sunrisethey had breakfasted, and with their packs, consisting of two pairs of blankets each and a two days' supply of cooked food, they started. They did not dare picket or hobble their horses, as either would give the wild beasts a chance to attack and kill them, and could only trust to luck, an abundant supply of good grass and water, and the well-known attachment which nearly all Western horses feel for a camp, to keep them there until their return.
After a hard day's climb they came upon abundant signs of goats about the middle of the afternoon, and, preparing a temporary bivouac under a shelving rock, they deposited their loads, made a pot of coffee, ate a hearty dinner, and started out to look for the game. They had not gone far when Mr. Westlake sighted a large, handsome male goat standing on the top of a cliff, and approaching within easy rifle range he fired and killed it. It fell some twenty or thirty feet, and lodged behind a projecting slab of granite. It was secured after considerable hard work, hastily skinned, and the skin and some of the best cuts of the meat carried to their temporary camp. Night was now approaching, and the hunters set about preparing a supply of wood. There were numerous dead pine and cedar trees, of stunted growth and peculiar shapes, standing and lying among the rocks, and a generous supply was soon provided. Next, a large quantity of cedar boughs were cut, brought in and spread under the overhanging rock, to a depth of a foot or more. On these the blankets were spread, and the hunters had a bed which many a tired lodger in Eastern city hotels might well envy them. By building a rousing firein front, which was reflected against the rock wall behind them, and by occasionally replenishing it during the night, they slept comfortably, though the temperature ran several degrees below zero.
Early the next morning both men started out in search of a female goat to complete their undertaking. Nearly two hours had been spent in hunting, when the Indian found a fresh track in the snow some distance above their temporary camp. He followed it until it led in among a forest of rent and jagged cliffs of granite, and Westlake, who was some distance away, seeing by the Indian's motions that he was on a trail, started toward him. When within a few feet of where he had last seen the Indian he heard the report of his rifle, and a shout announced that his shot had been successful. Mr. Westlake followed on into the chasm from whence the report came and saw the Indian attempting to scale the side of a nearly perpendicular wall of rock, stepping cautiously from niche to niche and shelf to shelf; holding on with his hands to every projecting point that afforded him any assistance. He finally reached the top of the ledge, and reaching over caught hold of the now lifeless body of the goat that he had killed, and drew it toward him. But when it swung off from the top of the ledge its weight and the consequent strain on his muscular power was greater than the Indian had anticipated, and before he had time to let go of the carcass and save himself his slight hold on the rock was torn loose, and uttering a wild shriek he fell a distance of nearly sixty feet, striking on a heap of broken rocks! He was instantly killed.
Here was a sad blow to poor Westlake. His only companion, his faithful guide, and the only human being within fifty miles of him, lay a corpse at his feet. He had no means whatever of getting the body back to their camp, much less of returning it to the unfortunate red man's friends. He had not even a tool of any kind to dig a grave with, and the only thing he could do in that direction was to build a wall of rocks around the body, lay some flat slabs across the top, and then carry and lay on top of these a number of the largest and heaviest rocks he could handle, to protect it from the ravages of wild beasts. When this sad duty was completed he returned with a heavy heart to their temporary camp, and with as much of their luggage as he was able to carry started down the mountain. Arriving about noon at the tent, he was horrified to find the tracks of a large bear in and about it, the greater portion of his supplies eaten up or destroyed, and his horses nowhere in sight. A hasty examination showed that the bear had passed through the little park in which they had last been grazing—evidently early that morning—that they had taken flight and fled in the direction of the head of the cañon up which they had come. Westlake followed them several miles until convinced that they had really started on their back trail, and then he returned to camp. By this time night was again approaching and it was with a heavy heart that he prepared to pass it there, all alone, and still further depressed with the thought that he had now a journey of a hundred miles or more before him, to the nearest settlement, which he must undoubtedly make on foot.He ate his supper alone and in sadness, and as the camp fire blazed in front of his tent it cast fitful shadows into the gloom, which was unbroken by any sound save the occasional soughing of the wind through the pine trees or the cry of some wild animal. He finally retired to rest, but his sleep was broken by troubled dreams. As the sun arose he prepared a hasty meal, which was eaten in silence, and with a pair of blankets, a few pounds of flour, salt, and coffee, and his rifle, he started, leaving his tent standing and all else in it as a monument to the memory of his friend and a landmark to future hunters and mountaineers to locate the scene of his great misfortune. He traveled seven days before seeing the face of a human being or sleeping under a shelter of any kind, when he finally reached a ranch where his horses had preceded him and had been corraled to await an owner.
It is fortunate that all goat hunters do not meet with such disasters as did poor Westlake and his young friend, or the noble sport would have still fewer votaries than it now has.