Terms, Five Dollars a Year. 
Ten Cents a Copy. 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 1876. 
I Volume 0, Number 9. 
) 17 Chatham Si. t City Hall Syr.) 
For Forest and Stream, 
0t erhn(d <jj£otea. 
JS UMBER FIVE, 
F ROM Mr. Link’s Ranche we set out for an excursion 
to the more remote and unfrequented mountains of 
the Tarry all Range, whose red peaks were seen distant 
against tlio northern sky. Our outfit of tent, saddles, pro¬ 
visions, tools, and guns were stowed in a strong wagon, 
•and your correspondent found a comfortable seat on a pile 
of fur robes and camp blankets. Our horses were not 
rapid, but were selected for their hunting qualities, stead¬ 
iness, surefootedness, and willingness to be Bhot from. A 
Vehement usp of condensed vernacular, the vigorous use of 
two whips, and somo remarks that might in the distance 
"have sounded something like a negro camp exhortation, 
-at times roused them to a display of “action," and for a 
few rods produced a speed of a mile in fifteen minutes; 
but as we journeyed northward, and gained elevation, 
fcsveral inches of snow covered the road, and we were 
Obliged to be patient and spend a good deal of time upon 
read! mile, amusing ourselves as best we could with stories 
and hnnting adventures. 
Mr. Link’s experience was very varied, and covered 
•hunting of all kinds, from “birds” in Missouri to grizzly 
bears in the coast range of California; and his knowledge 
Of the haunts and habits of animals rendered his detailed 
SI cries interesting to an unusual degree. As we made our 
Slow way our route passed between two ranges of hills, 
where, Mr. Link said, elk were in the habit of crossing in 
their migrations from the wilds west and norih of South 
Park to the ranges lying about Pike’s Peak, and to the 
Southward. While pointing out their route he drew up 
his horses and jumped out to examine carefully some 
.tracks crossing our roat), which he immediately pronounced 
.to be elk trails, made, lie thought, by a large doe and two 
well-grown calves. As they were fresh signs, we conclud¬ 
ed to follow them, and tnrning from the road we drove by 
the trail until it left the bottom land and went among 
trough ground, when we left the wagon with Mr. Link’s 
-fiephew, and with our guns carefully loaded set out upon 
.the trail, which in the snow was very plain. It led us 
upon a long ridge, rising gradually. The ground was 
slimy, with small thickets of quaking asp and stunted 
pines. Upon this quaking asp the elk feed at times, cut- 
•ting a piece of the smooth bark like a blaze mark, by an 
upward cut of tlicir lower teeth, and these marks half 
healed over are seen all about, evidence that not long ago 
this noble game was abundant indeed. 
After a mile we found we were gaining upon the game 
before us, the tracks were fresh, and the animals were evi¬ 
dently wandering about seeking a place to lie clown, and now 
moving most guardedly, we scanned eagerly all the half- 
Bpen woodland, feeling that any moment a bit of brush 
might prove to be antlers, or a seeming mossy stone the 
■body of the coveted game. Stealing along we came where 
the animals had been lying down, and the snow was still 
■moist from the warmth of their bodies. Beyond doubt 
the wind, which was provokingly wrong, had conveyed to 
their keen nostrils warning of our approach, and they had 
iprung up just beyond our view, not much alarmed, how- 
'fiVer, as they did not tuu, bat walked along, with the evi¬ 
dent intention of resuming, in a more secure spot, their 
mid-day rest. The trail wandered about, but kept down 
the wind, as these cunning brutes do when wary, that if 
•followed the wind shall bring them its warning. Further 
on they turned up the ridge, and upon their track, and 
here beyond doubt they were again alarmed by our pass- 
iing them on the direct trail, for after stalking from bush to 
bush when their ruse was expected, we came upon bold and 
rapidly-made tracks, that told of fear and flight. This 
trail we still followed, hurrying on, out of breath in the 
thin air, audweary enough from our more rapid pace ou 
ft.be trail which followed along the north side of an abrupt 
•mountain, where the snow was deep, and fallen trees and 
huge stones gave most uncertain footing. “A stern chase 
is a long chase,” and forces upon one in such a struggle a 
strong impression of man’s feebleness as set “on end,” 
combined with hoots that slip, clothes that catch, weighted 
with gun and ammunition he flounders along, making in 
half an hour of breathless work the summit his fleet, four- 
footed quarry has gained in a few long bounds, to find 
with disgust that another point rises higher, from the lofty 
summit of which Ids game may he quietly watching his 
slow progress, ready, if need be, to bound off again. One 
wishes for the wings of an eagle, or the sure feel of a 
wolf, or that the elk would juBl carry one’s gun a mile or 
two and lean it against a tree, and so divide the labor. 
Struck by the very certain amount of work, and the equal¬ 
ly uncertain chance of a shot at the game now really 
alarmed and on the qui vim, I concluded to abandon the 
hopeless chase. Mr. Link thought he might, by running 
on—a proceeding hardly any other mountaineer would at¬ 
tempt iu the rarifiod air—gain a long shot; so he set off on 
a run, and disappeared amid snow and rocks, while I 
set off on a line to our wagon, stopping for a while to make 
a fire and rest and dry my clothing, which was wet from 
perspiration. Reaching at last our camp fire, where Mr. 
Link arrived at the same lime, I found his efforts had been 
rewarded only by a Bight of the elk passing over a distant 
hill, when ho, too, abandoned the hunt—ono where our 
chances had been frustrated by an unfavorable wind. 
Disappointed, we turned into the road, and resumed, 
after wasted hours, our slow route, too late to reach our 
destination. After a few hours, admonished by darkness 
and fallmg snow, we concluded to seek shelter in a cabin, 
whence came in response to our halloa, a bright glow of 
light from an open door, where a rotund silhouette, 
stood the form of a kindly Dutchman, who bid us wel¬ 
come, and said “come ire” Bumping my head on a low 
lintel, I entered the cabin, and rubbing my eyes, looked 
upon as queer a den as I ever saw—low, roofed with huge 
logs, and illuminated by a pitch pine fire that blazed high 
in one corner, where the angles built of stone formed a 
rode fireplace. Bending over the fire was an old man 
with wild hair and heard, resembling to the life the grim 
figures in Restchos outline sketches of the Liniebumns. 
This grotesque figure, I learned, was Henri, “the dirtiest 
man. in Oolorada,” hut withal kindly and far from unintel¬ 
ligent. His hut was not far away, and was not famed for 
neatness. In it poor Henri was at one lime very ill, and at 
last a doctor was summoned some forty miles for counsel. 
The medical man came, opened the door, looked.in, but 
entered not. From the opon air he pronounced his pre¬ 
scription, “wash yourself, clean your house, and you’ll 
feel better,” and remounting rode away. Henri got well, 
hut whether he tried the remedy is not known. If he did, 
his water cure treatment was not long continued. 
In the hut of our friend we passed the night, lying be¬ 
fore the fire, and naturally rose early, and at dawn were 
on our way, despite a continued fall of snow, that made 
miles long and hours weary. Our road was over a series 
of summits, each higher than the last, with deeper snow 
and more violent storm, until at last we were obliged to 
walk aud break a path, through which our beaten horses 
dragged the wagon a rod at a time. So thick weie the 
fleecy flakes that it was not safe to get any distance 
apart, and for a long time it seemed as if we must get un¬ 
der some rock or tree and remain until the storm should 
abate. After a long pull we readied a farm house—a most 
snug one—when we gladly abandoned any effort to go be¬ 
yond while the storm raged. The night came on with cold 
wind, and the following morning was bright and fine, and 
we were early on our way. The snow was lying light and 
pure, and as we went along we read on its surface a record 
of all the movements of animals. A stream, Tarry all Creek, 
half frost-bound, was on our right, and to drink from it 
many animals had come down from the mountains early 
in the morning after the storm. Here were the prints of 
rabbits and hares; again, creeping under the cliffs, two or 
three wolves had been. From almost inaccessible ledges 
wild cats and lynxes had sprung down, starting balls of 
snow that rolled along leaving pretty printsin the white 
surface. Amid a clump of bushes was recorded the life 
struggle of a “cottontail” and a weasel, in the trampled 
snow were the frantic footprints of poor puss in her efforts tn 
shake off her deadly foe, and the groove where she had 
pulled the slender form of the “varmint” whose fangs 
were in her throat. At another point, a “cotton tail" had 
been surprised away from his sheltering rocks by an eagle, 
whose swoops he had evaded by bounds from side to side, 
until all the snow was beaten down. The low dashes of 
the bird were marked by the strokes of wing t ips on the 
snow, as lie headed off every dash of frightened bunny; 
but we were glad to see no fur or blood on the snow, and 
presumed the bird was bafllod at last. 
Three varieties of Tabbits, or more properly hares, were 
seen, and a number shot from our wagon. The long-eared 
"jade," a wary fellow, wonderful iu the awkwardness and 
rapidity of ljis flight, has some protection in being white 
in winter, ns has the “snow-shoe" hare; but the plump 
little cotton tail remains brown, and is a victim to almost 
all predatory animals from man to weasels, while owls and 
hawks haunt his timid life. He sits in implicit stupidity 
in front of his rocky home, and is so easy to shoot that 
only his excellence in a stew warrants killing him. The 
snow told tales of other animals, who, independent of 
night keys, do ramble late. Big bucks had come with high, 
dainty step to drink; panthers (mountain lions) had stolen 
along with noiseless but not unrecorded footfall, and coy¬ 
otes—fearful of all, bat more afraid of starvation—had 
sneaked about, looking for Some sick animal or timid hare 
for sustenance. A few birds braved the cold—mountain 
grouse, magpies, and jays—and tueir footsteps made pat¬ 
terns on the snow as regular and dainty as if embroidered. 
All these abundant evidences of wild life, with Mr. 
Link's comments and explanation of their habits, made our 
third day’s drive more agreeable, and not at all weary we 
reacliod his sou’s radchc before dinner, a daintly-scrvcd 
meal, where w T e weremuoh pleased with the gentle and af¬ 
fectionate ways of a lame auteiope, a pretty thing with 
Buperbeycs, that courted notice, and enjoyed it as much 
as a spaniel. Mr. Link’s son Louis hero joined us, and we 
went on aud passed the night with Mr. B. Ratcliff, who 
has a very nice ranche, newly established. lie is a very 
keen sportsman, and usually supplied his tabic by carrying 
his gun when going for his cattle. Iiis success is unusual 
as will be apparent when we state that in nine shots 
he killed eight fine mountain sheep. 
Au early start from Mr. Kadcliff’s took ns to our camp 
ground by nine the next morning, and soon Mr. Link, his 
son, and I were mounted and en route for tlm mountains. 
Mr. Louis Link left us for u long route through the haunts 
of sheep and bison, we going among some rough peaks for 
sheep. Herds of cattle were feeding on the dead grass that 
came above the snow, but wo were soon above their 
haunts aud on the alert for sheep, the most wary aud cun¬ 
ning of any mountain game. They live among the most 
precipitous ranges, and are fleet and surefooted where, 
seemingly, no feet could tread. Their gaze is usually 
downward, and rarely.are they surprised, unless from some 
overhanging crag. Scanning every cliff and stone, we 
made our difficult way upward, our eyes protected by 
smoked glass from the danger of snow blindness, here 
very serious, Our horses labored hard, and barely kept 
their feet on the rugged slope. All at once Mr. Link slid 
from his horse and motioned me to do the same. Crouch¬ 
ing low, and looking under the iimbs of a pine, we saw 
two sheep on a rock some three er four hundred rods dis¬ 
tant. Our horses were hastily tied together, and we crept 
up to the pine tree expecting a shot, hut the wind played 
us false, coming up suddenly, and hearing our scent to the 
game, alarming them so that they fled before we were 
within range. We went on after them, hoping to get near 
them, and then let our dog (a Scotch colley) go, with the 
aim of driving them to some rooky retreat, where the dog 
would keep them; hutwheulet slip he soon came bade, 
showing they had gono a good way ou. We took the trail 
and followed it to a high peak, where, but for the unfa> 
