Volume XVII. 



RECREATION 



SEPTEMBER, 1902. 

 G. 0. SHIELDS (COQUINA), Editor and Manager 



Number 3. 



MOUNTAIN SHEEP IN IDAHO. 



GEO. F. WRIGHT. 



We started to look up one of Ida- 

 ho's lost mines. There are several. 

 This one was of the right sort, how- 

 ever; not the kind where an old and 

 dying prospector draws a map on a 

 piece of bark, using blood instead of 

 ink, and the hero does the rest. The 

 story goes, or it does with some, that 

 a man by the name of Giles had 

 made a stake in the placer mines in 

 the early 6o's, and on his way out he 

 ran into a goodsized bunch of Sho- 

 shone, or Snake, Indians who were 

 handing down to posterity some hair- 

 lifting tales by means of a paint 

 brush and the side of a mountain. 

 Giles was thirsting for knowledge or 

 a place to hide, but the reds saw him 

 first. He put on the boldest face he 

 had with him, stepped up to the boss 

 painter, cocked his head on one side, 

 glanced at the canvas, so to speak, 

 and tried to think up a good talk. 

 The bucks stood around with war 

 clubs at half mast waiting for a ver- 

 dict ; but Giles, though a diplomat, 

 after a fashion, got confused. One 

 set of scrappers in the picture were 

 all cut up camp stove length, and, 

 there being no flags, he could not tell 

 whether the battle had gone to the 

 Nez Perces or the Snakes, and 

 whether the picture was a sort of 

 monument to a great victory or a 

 place for a lot of widowed squaws to 

 go and butt their heads against. He 

 took no chances, but asked the artist 

 where he got his dye stuff. That 

 would not fit in some countries, but 



it was a compliment there, as the In- 

 dians prided themselves on having 

 the best and most lasting article in 

 paints in that section. They were so 

 pleased they gave up the secret. 



"Burned the rocks," said the boss. 



Giles did not know whether it was 

 a joke, or if it was safe to build a 

 fire anywhere except on the water ; 

 but they quickly relieved his mind in 

 a manner different from that usually 

 meted out to a white man. They 

 took him to a place where one of the 

 walls of a ledge had peeled off and 

 exposed several feet of what he at 

 first thought was gold. He began 

 looking around to see if Solomon had 

 left any of his tools lying about, but 

 a closer inspection satisfied him 

 it was only copper. He took a few 

 pounds, to show he was a sure 

 enough prospector, went to Lewiston, 

 threw his mountain rig into his cabin, 

 and went back East. There he lived 

 in good style until one hazy day he 

 went up against Wall street with a 4 

 flush. 



When he crawled out from under 

 the trance he thought of the great 

 and glorious West. He hit the trail 

 so hard that in a few weeks he was 

 back in Idaho and at the cabin de- 

 serted nearly 30 years before. Lew- 

 iston was a city and the cabin a 

 wreck. The only thing the pack rats 

 had left was the old chunk of ore. 

 Giles had it essayed, and nearly had a 

 fit when he got returns that it was 

 about one-eighth gold and the rest 



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