A HUNT IN ROUTT COUNTY, COL. 



DR. E. W. WAGONER. 



On the morning of September 8th, 1894, 

 6 of Emporia's big hunters, or, at least, 

 hunters who had big game in their eye, 

 left the station over the Sante Fe for Routt 

 county, Colo., where there was a promise 

 of shooting" antelope, mountain lions, deer, 

 elk and bear. An uncle of Marshal 

 Starr lived in that good hunting district 

 and had the reputation of possessing more 

 bear scalps than any other hunter in that 

 country. With that excellent guide the 

 crowd expected to each kill a bear, elk, 

 lion and all the common game they 

 wanted. Marshal had taken 2 trips to that 

 place in previous years, killing game that 

 gave him an enviable reputation with the 

 boys, and with his company we were sure 

 of a fine time. 



Arriving at Leadville, several of us en- 

 joyed for the first time the delightful 

 freshness of that altitude. There, poised 

 on the brink of mountains, are smelters 

 whose sulphurous fumes may be smelled 

 for miles. After night the long flames 

 seen issuing out of the flues remind one 

 of the aurora borealis or suggest Dante's 

 Inferno. Climbing up the divide with 2 

 engines, doubling on our path until we 

 occupied the fourth track on the top and 

 could look down and count the other 3, 

 we reached the top of the Rockies and 

 glided down the mountain slopes as down 

 a toboggan slide. We were in Rifle by 

 midnight. There we were to take wagons 

 for 115 miles to Mr. Brown's, Starr's 

 uncle. 



The following day at 4 p. m. we were 

 on a wagon, with 1,000 pounds of baggage, 

 starting North for our first camping place, 

 which we reached at 8 p. m. Everyone 

 was tired and hungry, and when oysters 

 were set before the crowd for a starter 

 the look of surprise that went around 

 might have done everything else but talk. 

 The boys all wanted to pay more than the 

 50 cents charged for that supper; at least 

 those did who had not seen any penny ante 

 on the train. After a smoke and a social 

 chat each fellow took his blankets and 

 found a spot by the side of a haystack big 

 enough for himself and his feet without 

 moving the barnyard fence. We were all 

 soon lulled asleep by the chattering coy- 

 otes, who seem to think every night is 

 their night out. We bade adieu to Wolf's 

 ranch and their gracious hospitality the 

 following morning and pushed ahead as 

 far as we could before night. In that 

 country camping places are located by the 

 water supplies and horse feed or grass, if 



parties do not carry hay with them. At 8 

 o'clock that night we reached Axtel, a 

 little cabin and postoflice in the Axtel 

 basin. The one who could put on the 

 most despairing look was selected to state 

 our wants to the kind woman in charge, 

 who, after several refusals, decided to give 

 us bread, butter and coffee and the privi- 

 leges of the hay yard. No time was lost 

 in rolling up in our blankets, and our 

 night's rest would have been everything 

 hoped for had it not been that George 

 Jones attracted a skunk about 2 a. m. It 

 seemed that Jones understood how to 

 handle his visitor, for after it had crawled 

 about his head, smelling of him, it left 

 without presenting its compliments. Jones 

 said he knew he must not move or he 

 would create a disturbance that would last 

 throughout our trip. 



After a hard day's travel through can- 

 yons that seemed once the walls of a 

 mighty avalanche and up mountains that 

 looked impossible of ascent, we anchored 

 at Craig, 4.30, and set about getting our 

 supplies, for that was the last trading 

 place. We found Starr's uncle dangerous- 

 ly sick and his team, with which he in- 

 tended meeting us at Rifle, in the barn. 

 Dismissing our driver, we loaded our stuff 

 for the ranch, 14 miles away. That dis- 

 tance in the mountains means at least 

 twice that far on the prairie or level coun- 

 try. 



Eight o'clock found us in sight of the 

 ranch. As we mounted the hill a fine 

 buck antelope jumped up and was soon 

 laid low by J. W. Lostuttor. The camera 

 was brought out and "Antelope Dick," 

 from this incident, was secured, wound on 

 the spool of films and put away for another 

 day. We were glad to reach the cabin, 

 but the condition of Mr. Brown worried 

 all of us. 



The next day we all hunted antelope 

 and had much sport chasing and taking 

 snap shots at them on the run. Some 

 remarkable shots were scored, and of 

 course they were always intentional. 



Sunday every preparation was made to 

 leave the cabin early the next morning. 

 It was intended that as soon as Mr. Brown 

 recovered he should join us. At 9 o'clock 

 Sunday night a mounted messenger 

 brought the news that Mr. Brown was 

 dead. Marshal Starr drove in that night 

 and returned the next morning with a 

 spring wagon, in which he took back 

 James Thompson, myself and a nephew of 

 Mr. Brown to attend the funeral. 



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