A MOUNTAIN HUNT IN OREGON. 



STANLEY HERBERT. 



I had the good fortune to receive an 

 invitation for a few days' hunt in the heart 

 of the Coast Range mountains. I reached 

 the home of my friend late one evening in 

 September. 



Preparations for the hunt were begun 

 almost immediately; guns were cleaned, 

 and ammunition prepared; while the dogs 

 and ponies were tied up, and packs made. 

 The hunting ground selected was several 

 miles away, and soon after noon of the 

 following day we started. 



As we wound around the mountain side 

 our cavalcade presented an interesting ap- 

 pearance. At the head rode my friend 

 Will, on a little sorrel pony, his rifle across 

 the saddle in front of him, his feet nearly 

 touching the ground on either side, due 

 to the fact that the pony's legs were ex- 

 ceedingly short and his exceeding- 

 ly the opposite. Both in front and 

 behind the saddle were packs of provisions 

 and camp equipage. The ether pony was 

 similarly accoutred, and behind soberly 

 trotted Watch, the trusty old black and 

 tan deerhound; while Suze and Sooner, 

 2 more, scampered playfully along. 



Soon we left the road and entered a 

 narrow trail. Overhead the boughs in- 

 termingled so closely that it was dusky 

 even in midday, owing to the thick 

 growth of Salal bush. As we proceeded, 

 the path rapidly grew steeper, and when 

 we reached the clearing above the brush 

 and timber, we saw we had begun the 

 ascent of the mountain. 



It became so steep we could barely stay 

 in the saddles, so, dismounting and se- 

 curely fastening our packs, the ascent was 

 continued on foot. Will took the lead and 

 behind him came the ponies, who were 

 familiar with that kind of travel, and read- 

 ily followed without leading; the remain- 

 der of the expedition brought up the rear. 



As we neared the summit, the fog, that 

 almost continually envelopes the moun- 

 tain tops, began to close in and shut off 

 all view we might have had from that ele- 

 vation. In descending the other side, the 

 brush again made its appearance, and then 

 the heavier timber. It was quite dark ere 

 we reached our camp, an old shack used 

 only by hunters as shelter against the 

 mountain fogs and storms. 



The ponies were unpacked and turned 

 loose to graze. A few cedar splits taken 

 from the side of the building served as 

 fuel, and a bright, crackling fire soon 

 lighted up the old building and sent bright 



gleams out through the chinks in the wall. 

 A camp fire supper is soon prepared and 

 eaten, and we lay down to a good night's 

 sleep. 



The dogs awoke us long before daylight 

 had found its way into the secluded can- 

 yon. Breakfast disposed of, we took our 

 rifles, chained the dogs to ourselves and 

 started for the scene of the hunt. 



As we went through the timber along 

 the creek we noticed marks made on the 

 trees by bears. In climbing the chittem 

 trees to secure the berries, they tear long 

 slits in the bark with their claws. Their 

 tracks were numerous in the soft clay, 

 but as they were several days old they were 

 of little interest. 



When we emerged from the woods and 

 started up the hillside, our troubles began 

 in earnest. The fern grows to a size al- 

 most incredible, the stalks being ^ to i^ 

 inches through and 10 to 20 feet in height. 

 If we went on one side of the stalks, the 

 dogs, of course, went on the other, and 

 that necessitated a stop and untanglement. 



However, we finally reached the top, 

 where the fern was not so thick, but were 

 compelled to wait some time before the fog 

 raised sufficiently for us to select our 

 stand. One of the dogs was loosed and 

 quickly disappeared down the hillside, to 

 be heard at intervals giving his whining 

 bark, telling he had not found a satisfac- 

 tory track. 



A large fallen tree served as my vantage 

 point. It lay on a little knoll, overlook- 

 ing a woody canyon, in which old Watch 

 could occasionally be heard. Presently he 

 started a deer. His yelps, coming in quick 

 succession, echoed from the mountain side 

 until lost to hearing in the distance. The 

 chase circled round in the timber for some 

 time, but soon the dog's voice became 

 clearer, and we knew the game was some- 

 where on the hillside. Every eye was 

 strained to catch sight of it; not a move 

 in the fern was missed, but the alert deer 

 crossed the ridge without showing itself 

 above the fern. 



We were, of course, disappointed, but it 

 could not be helped. The other dogs were 

 loosed and their notes rose and fell alter- 

 nately until lost in innumerable echoes. 



Another deer was started, and presently 

 made its appearance on a little knoll about 

 500 yards from where Will was stationed. 

 It halted a moment as if undecided what 

 to do, but a shot from Will's 40-60 sent it 



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