Memories of a Bear Hunter 



dash for the freighters' horses. By good luck the 

 teamsters heard the noise in time, jumped out of 

 their blankets, and by a rapid fusillade drove the 

 Indians off before any horses were taken. For- 

 tunately our insignificant bunch of horses was no 

 temptation to these discriminating savages. 48 



We reached the Forks of the Musselshell on 

 November 2, and camped in Gordon's cabin, two 

 miles above the post-office. Here we stayed for 

 several days reading our accumulated mail and 

 newspapers, and on the 6th left camp for a hunt 

 between this point and the Yellowstone, on the 

 heads of Sweetgrass and Big Timber Creeks. 



On November 8 we camped at Porcupine Butte, 

 and on the 9th on the Big Timber. As the wagon 

 and outfit passed on the road at the foot of the 

 mountains, Messiter and I scouted along the foot- 

 hills above, looking out for game. We saw white- 

 tails and antelope in considerable numbers, but no 

 sign of bears. We reached Big Timber Creek 

 again, eight or nine miles above the point our camp 

 was supposed to be located. Meantime it had 

 clouded up, and before long began to snow, with 

 a raw northwest wind. We moved down toward 

 our camp, hoping to reach it before dark, but 

 night fell before any signs of camp could be seen, 

 and with the darkness the wind and the snow in- 



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