MR. POTTER'S OVIS CANADENSIS. 



STANLEY MAYALL. 



Gregory N. Potter came from Boston 

 and was never ashamed to let the people of 

 Fire Gulch know it. The 2 towns and 

 their surroundings are different, but Greg- 

 ory sacrificed the luxuries, the joys and the 

 oldtime institutions of the East in the 

 blessed hope that he would bag a grizzly. 

 He could hardly have found a likelier spot 

 for big game. Deer and bear of various 

 species, cougars, lynxes and other denizens 

 of hill and forest were there. Gregory had 

 plenty of money and was willing to pay for 

 his sport, but somehow he had bad luck. 

 Experienced guides escorted him for weeks 

 together. He martyred himself hourly to 

 secure some satisfactory booty. Housed 

 miserably, fed abominably, sleeping anyhow, 

 he had got up at daybreak or stayed awake 

 all night, shivered, perspired, walked, 

 climbed, rowed, rode or swam, torn his 

 clothes to shreds, ripped his boots to rib- 

 bons, bumped, bruised and scraped every 

 limb, and at the end of 4 weeks had not 

 secured hide or head worth mention. He 

 was only a second rate shot and an indiffer- 

 ent mountaineer, but taken at his worst 

 something more than this was his due. His 

 bags had been confined almost entirely to 

 ducks, mountain grouse and pheasants, 

 mostly out of season. He was getting dis- 

 couraged. People ceased to apply his 

 Christian name and called him "Hen Pot- 

 ter" only. He resented this and was so 

 indiscreet as to remark that his guides were 

 incompetent and that he would dispense 

 with their services and save the cost. 



Accordingly the next day he set out 

 alone. He returned at night with a pleased 

 expression, visited 2 or 3 of the saloons, 

 drank more than usual, retired early and 

 the next morning at daybreak set out 

 again. On his return he was still hopeful, 

 but nof satisfied. The third day he once 

 again disappeared early and returned at 

 nightfall. He was tired, dirty, thirsty, but 

 radiant with delight; for he had proved 

 his ability as a hunter, and made his bag. 



"Been after him 3 days, close on his 

 tracks all the time, saw him at a distance 

 the first day, lost him the second, bagged 

 him the third. Bagged him first shot; just 

 put an expander in the right place, and 

 will have a magnificent head and hide." 



He felt his trouble and expense had been 

 repaid ; but where were those blamed 

 guides? He wanted to tell them about it; 

 they would be jealous, as he believed this 

 was the only specimen of its kind that had 

 been killed in that locality for over 2 years. 

 He had dressed it, suspended the carcass on 



a bull pine and would have it brought in 

 on a pack horse. What was it? A Rock} 

 mountain sheep ! A bighorn ! What na- 

 turalists termed the Ovis canadensis and 

 worth all the deer in the country. 



One of the guides came into the saloon 

 but did not like the turn of events,. He 

 was mortified, jealous, yet cordial. 



Another said, "Mount'n sheep, eh ! well, 

 as Uncle Remuus says, it mout be and 

 then again it moutn't' ; darned ef I know 

 where in thunder it strayed from, or 'ow 

 in 'ell 'c found it when it did, or 'ow 'e 

 'it it when 'e saw it." A third, known as 

 "Rain-in-the-Face" because of his pox 

 pitted physiognomy, said still less, but ap- 

 parently thought the more and left the sa- 

 loon with a grin on his face. 



"Gee wizz !" he ejaculated when outside, 

 "ef et should only be ! Ef et should only 

 be ! There'll be a hot time in the old town 

 to-morrow. Pat '11 pound 'im into putty. 

 There'll be merry hell in this 'ere burg, 

 come Friday, or I'm mistaken. Gosh ! This 

 is the greatest fun since the boom." 



Gregory went to bed that night the hap- 

 piest man in the woolly West, full of honor 

 and whiskey. 



Next morning Potter's Ovis canadensis 

 was early secured and deposited on the ver- 

 andahed sidewalk of the Waldorf hotel in 

 Fire Gulch, and exposed to the admiring 

 gaze of a curious crowd. 



The general opinion was that a valuable 

 trophv had been secured and that the kill 

 had been correct. The ball had entered 

 the left forequarter, pierced the lungs and 

 having duly expanded had emerged through 

 a large everted wound from the right shoul- 

 der. Much blood had escaped. Gregory 

 was proud of himself. His 3 days' labor 

 had ended in glorious success. 



"Hang all guides," he once more ejacu- 

 lated; then to an inquirer: 



"What is its name? Oh, the Ovis cana- 

 densis, the mountain sheep ; the big " 



"See here, stranger," a loud voice inter- 

 jected, and a tall, heavy, stoutly built man, 

 hoarse with passion, white with rage broke 

 into the bar-side crowd, "See here, young 

 man. I want you." He took Gregory 

 roughly by the arm and led him to the door. 



"What-in-the-name-of-'ell-did-you-do-that 

 for?" 



Gregory was no coward and as each word 

 had been accompanied by an angry shake 

 he bridled furiously. 



"Let go, you hulking villain, let up, or 

 you'll know about it." 



"Know about it, eh! Who knows more? 



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