Shooting a Grizzly with a 

 Coffee- Pot 



IN August, 1 90 1, I Started from the little town of 

 Vernal, Uintah County, Utah, situated in Ashley 

 Valley, accompanied by a young guide of the faith 

 by the name of David. We were going hunting, and 

 incidentally to visit the old Dead Man Mine way up on 

 the north side of Baldy Mountain, some one hundred 

 miles from town. The abandoned mine was located 

 just below snow-line, and had an elevation of ten thousand 

 feet. 



David was a very quiet boy with a pleasant disposition; 

 a first-class prospector, guide, and hunter. He had a 

 crippled hand. From his mild and retiring personality 

 one would conjecture that he might have crippled that 

 hand in his mother's sewing-machine, or perhaps jammed 

 it in the cellar-door. I learned later that he carried 

 this deformity as a result of performing some of his 

 duties as deputy-sheriff, particularly while persuading 

 a couple of outlaws to accompany him to jail. I also 

 learned that one went to jail and the other to the ceme- 

 tery. Uintah County in the old days was a nice isolated 

 place to live in, and an unostentatious place in which 

 to die. As intimated above, however, you would never 

 guess from appearances that David had any notches 

 on liis gun. 



With the white cap of Baldy Mountain gleaming in the 

 noon sunshine, we left the old Government trail, and 

 turning sharply to the north-west rode up a long draw, 



87 



