TWENTY YEARS IN THE ROCKIES. 133 



CHAPTER XII. 



ANOTHER HUNTING TRIP Hiram Steward a hunting knife shoot at a 

 target I beat the Crow champion off for the huat plenty of game- 

 nay "Winchester Steward's torpedo that "pea-slinger" at peace in 

 camp. 



I soon tired of life in Boseman, and found employment 

 on the stageline running from Boseman to Miles City, a dis- 

 tance of three hundred and forty miles. We had no regular 

 time for making trips, for it was impossible to foresee what 

 might happen to detain us upon the road. At every sta- 

 tion we would stop to get a fresh team, but often found that 

 the horses had been stolen, the man in charge frightened 

 away, or, worse still, that the station-house was in ashes. 

 While making these trips, up and down, I became acquaint- 

 ed with a great many people along the route. 



One of these was Hiram Steward, who had been lead- 

 ing a roving life in the mountains in search of gold and 

 large game for twenty-five years. Steward was an old 

 man then, six feet and two inches in height, well built, and 

 as brave and fearless as a man could be. In one of his ad- 

 ventures he had been shot through the thigh, which short- 

 ened his leg and retarded his movements. He was stopping 

 with Hoskins & McGirl, at Baker's battleground, on the 

 Fort Custer crossing. This was the best stopping-place 

 along the line, and was a favorite resort for the hundreds 

 of hunters and trappers in the territory, owing to the genial 

 qualities of the proprietors and the plentiful supply of well- 



