304 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



fMAT 15, 1884. 



tag mjd 



A HUNTERS' CAMP. 



THEKE was a sudden stir in Astoria among lovers of 

 river shootinir, one late October day, when two hunt- 

 ers, who had been down on the bottoms prospecting, brought 

 back word that the fall flight of wildfowl had begun. Tents 

 were overhauled, and camping traps of all sorts were speed- 

 ily put in order, for ours was to be a party of genuine lovers 

 of the camp-fire. There was to be no clingiugto civilization 

 in the shape of boarding houses or hired cooks. Such things 

 might do for novices, but when we had once entered the 

 swamp forests there was to be no coming back to soft beds 

 and easy chairs until the hunt was ended. 



The party went out of the village in the early morning, 

 perched high on rolls of bedding and boxes of 'provisions, 

 which had been bestowed in an ancient lumber wagon, 

 drawn by a matched team, a low-spirited horse, and a dis- 

 couraged-looking mule. Steve, the stalwart farmer, was 

 strangely silent about the fields, thickly carpeted with grow- 

 ing wheat, or studded with obese shocks of corn ; enough to 

 loosen the tongue of the most taciturn tiller of the soil. He 

 was not silent, however, about former river expeditions. 

 There was a wistful look in his eyes, as though he could al- 

 ready, in imagination, hear the whistle of teals' wings. 



The sorriest figure in the party was cut, by the Parson. 

 His shining beaver was replaced with a weather-beaten 

 slouch, and his coat and breeches were evidently not out on 

 their first expedition, though certainly out at elbows and 

 knees. The Deacon, occupying the rear berth in the wagon, 

 smoked away placidly in spite of the rain and hail that pelted 

 us as we toiled through the mud. Another team brought 

 the balance of the half score — Senator, Doctor, the Notary, 

 Tom, another dominie (afterward christened the Pelican, 

 when he tried to palm off. as a fresh corpse, a cadaver of 

 that species, which he had picked up in the back-water), the 

 Mote (weight 225 pounds) and last and least, the Bantling. 

 The Deacon ruled that in case of dispute, the Senator should 

 decide all legal questions involved : in case of accident the 

 Doctor should be allowed to officiate; and any member of 

 the party should have "benefit of clergy" in case of hanging. 

 It was a long pull from the landing, where the boats were 

 loaded, back into the lakes, where the cracking of guns led 

 to the ducks' highways and pastures. The storm had passed 

 and the sun was banging among the trees, when the boats 

 were pulled up on the eastern shore of Steward Lake, above 

 the mouth of the Any Carte. The tents were deposited 

 under meplesand elms' whose leaves were brilliantly streaked 

 with red. The prevailing autumn color of the trees on the 

 river bottom, however, especially if the first frosts are light, 

 is yellow. Back on the bluffs there are plenty of reds, but 

 here the mass of color is yellow ; not the shallow, flat, murky 

 sort, but clear and transparent. Sometimes, pushing your 

 boat into a bayou or narrow inlet, you will catch sight of a 

 pecan or soft maple stained the deepest saffron. 



But while we have been looking at the trees, the hunters' 

 ready hands have cut posts and poles and stretched the tents. 

 There is a hurried search among the "plunder" after loaded 

 shells, for the sun is dipping out of sight, and if any one gets 

 a shot before the nfght'falls, it must be soon. The Parson 

 and the Senator drift together as the party scatters to shoot- 

 ing points, and lor the rest of the week the law and gospel 

 go hand in hand. 



There seemed to be no method in the flight of the birds; 

 they were evidently looking for lighting places. The Parson 

 hushed the Senator in the midst of a funny story, as a bunch 

 of low-flying mallards came toward their blind. The guus 

 flamed and two drakes dropped out of the flock. Dusk was 

 gathering, but a flock of teal sweeping across the lake, catch- 

 inff sight of the half-concealed gunners, mounted sharply, 

 their climbing forms silhouetted against the sky and offering 

 a rare shot, Three of them dropped at the edge of the water 

 when the guns blazed. It soon grew too dark for seeing, 

 though swift, wings could be heard fanning the air overhead 

 provokingly near. At such a time the hunter longs for power 

 to see iu the dark. 



At the camp the Deacon, who, by the way, had a weakness 

 for good feeding, had installed himself as cook, a position all 

 were willing he should have and hold after they had once 

 tasted the fruits of his culinary skill. Then and there a 

 burden of anxiety rolled from the minds of all the party as 

 the Deacon— who had joined the expedition in the capacity 

 of philosopher seeking escape from the turmoils of civiliza- 

 tion, rather than as a hunter— volunteered to have the meals 

 ready when the others came from their boats and blinds. 

 He blandly called attention to a set of by-laws which he had 

 unanimously adopted and pinned up in a conspicuous place. 

 Here they are : 



1. The cook must be exempted from wood cutting and 

 dish washing. 



2. The man who snores shall be fired into the lake. [The 

 Mote regarded this as personal.] 



3. The wearing of buttonhole bouquets is strictly for- 

 bidden. 



4. For every tardiness at meals the offender shall forfeit 

 one duck to the cook. 



These rules were simple enough, but there was a suspicion 

 in some minds that the Deacon had his eye on many ducks 

 in No. 4, a suspicion which seemed confirmed, as his string 

 of birds grew longer each day. 



How we slept that night. A heap of dried leaves, covered 

 with gum coats, made a bed, where we slirmbered as men do 

 only under like circumstances. Strange it is that one rarely 

 takes cold in a tent. A silk skull cap drawn well over the 

 head is the only preventive needed. With the wind blowing 

 in at every corner, and the rain sifting through the canvas 

 in a fine mist on your face, you awake with a head as clear 

 as a May morning.* Ye dwellers in pent-up offices and stuffy 

 parlors.'take to tents and forget that men are ever troubled 

 with colds and sleepless nights. 



"I fello-o-o-o!" shouted some one just as we had fallen 

 asleep, as it seemed, but hours after as it proved. It was 

 the Notary, who had caught the noise of swiftly moving 

 wings close above the treetops. We were soon in boots and 

 away. The eyelashes of the dawn were already visible. 

 There came a flash across from the point of timber where 

 Steve had taken his stand behind the willows. He after- 

 ward brought in four redheads as the result of shooting into 

 what he called "a bunch of shadows." 



The Senator's teeth chattered and the Parson was blowing 

 his fingers behind a blind formed of willow twigs stuck in 

 the mud. A flock of mallards came squarely toward the 

 blind, the dominie catching sight of them first. The Sena- 

 tor sat still, wondering why the Parson didn't shoot, as he 



seemed to have a fine, bead on the birds, and to be fairly 

 reaching after them with his gun; but the birds went "tail- 

 ing off" in safety, for the Parson was pulling with all his 

 might on the guard of his gun instead of the trigger. The 

 mistake cost him some chaffing at the breakfast table. There 

 was rare shooting that morning. A steady, low flight of 

 mallards kept the guns smoking. In the clear morning light 

 the birds looked as large as brant, and there was a constant 

 temptation to shoot too soon, under the impression that the 

 game was within range. Some old hunters insist that oue 

 must wait until the duck's eye can be seen before he is 

 fairly within range; but with No. 4 shot in our shells and 

 4V drams of powder behind them we did not wait for 

 quite such close range work. A fine lot of birds were strung 

 up in front of the tent at breakfast time, the Notary exciting 

 every one's* envy by contributing a pair of canvas-back 

 drakes. These are not often bagged on the Illinois River, 

 the more numerous species being mallard, teal, bluebill, 

 "blackjack.'' sprigtail. redhead and wood duck. 



One day the Doctor and Tom wandered for a change into 

 the woods, after stalking through the wet ground for several 

 hours after jack snipe, with a total result of twenty-one 

 birds. They brought back a brace of crippled owls, much 

 to the delight of the Bantling, and the whole camp for a 

 while. As the proper one to handle the wounded, the Doc- 

 tor thrust his hand into Tom's shell bag for the birds. One 

 of them resented the intrusion by striking his claw into the 

 Doctor's palm. "Take him off!* Take him off!" he yelled, 

 w T hile Tom cautiously backed away from the scene of con- 

 flict. "Why don't you drop him?" suggested Tom, as he 

 dodged behind the Mote. "I can't. Take him off !" fairly 

 shrieked the victim. The Bantling had no difficulty after 

 that in securing an unincumbered title to the owls. 



The Notary and the Pelican were sitting, one evening, be- 

 hind a blind beside the lake, debating a proposal to cross to 

 the carnp. It was at that feverish moment when the hunter 

 wants just one more shot before quitting for the night. The 

 two had at their feet a score of teal and bluebills. The 

 Notary said there was "an unsatisfied longing in his sou!," 

 "an aching void," which ducks could not fill. He was look- 

 ing wistfully at a flock of geese driving like a wedge along 

 the horizon. " But not even the "howitzer," a number seven 

 bore, used for heavy work, would reach tbem, unless they 

 came lower. All at once the leader dropped a little and 

 changed his course. Down they came toward the water, 

 wheeling with heavy flight to scan the lake. The Notary 

 fumbled for shells loaded with heavy shot. It was the work 

 of a moment to slip these into the guns. Steadily the old 

 gander led his flock toward the concealed battery, which 

 opened fire with effect. The first to fall was the leader him- 

 self. After him came tw T o others, dropping with tremendous 

 splashes into the unruffled water. "My longing is satisfied," 

 said the Notary, as they waded out after the birds, "the 

 aching void is filled." They were in high feather that night 

 at the camp. The evening hour in the tent is a delicious 

 one. Stretched out at full length, with feet toward a hot fire, 

 the hunter talks glibly, if ever. The Pelican had been a sol- 

 dier, and told of the times when he hunted with a rifle can- 

 non, instead of a Remington shotgun. Steve had been a gold 

 miner in California, and had had many a brash with the In- 

 dians. There were no dull ones in that company, and the 

 evenings were all too short for the things wnich were to be 

 recounted. It will be long before the good fellowship of 

 that congenial half score will be forgotten by any one of the 

 number. 1 " Richard Geau Hobbs. 



CIMARRON TO CIMARRON CANYON. 



I ROSE very leisurely on the morning of Dec. 26, and just 

 as the clock struck 9 here came Tracy in his lumber 

 waeon, drawn by a two hundred-dollar mare and a twenty - 

 dolfar Texas pony, with the old wagon filled with corn, 

 grub, tent, wood and the hundred and one things, that when 

 we cut entirly loose from the railroad we have to take with 

 us. 1 had not got my wagon packed yet, but everything 

 was ready and piled in a heap in the hall. Blankets, grub 

 in boxes, bread baked, coffee ground, cartridges and corn, 

 and before Tracy had disappeared over the hills to the south 

 I was packed into a buggy that is made of an old govern- 

 ment ambulance altered over, with Mr. C. by my side, and 

 we were off for a two weeks' trip, across the shallow Arkan- 

 sas, through the sandhills, and over a long, dreary, twelve- 

 mile flat; then more hills and at sunset we drew up at the 

 Wolfley dugout on Crooked Creek, which this winter is in- 

 fested by cowboys. The owner has a kind of rheumatism, 

 and has gone East for repairs, and has lent his dugout to the 

 boys who are holding some cattle. As I knew them all they 

 treated us with great hospitality. Gave us a nice supper 

 and drank up all my whisky while we were eating it. We 

 did not find Tracy at the ranch, but in about an hour one of 

 the boys came in and reported him in camp two miles up 

 the creek. I never camp out. when I can find a house, 

 especially in winter, and so C. and I concluded that we 

 would hitch up earlv and catch him at daybreak. The 

 evening was spent by the gentle cow-punchers in seeing who 

 could tell the biggest lie in regard to riding bad horses and 

 other feats. ... 



We found Tracy just ready to start and in good spirits in 

 spite of his lonesome night, and pulled out for the south- 

 west again. Thirty miles over a rolling prairie, with no 

 water and not an animal in sight and we came to Wildhorse 

 Lake, a pond that generally has water in it, There we un- 

 hitched, fed the horses and watered them, got something to 

 eat, hitched up and pulled on. We soon met a freighter 

 coning from Beaver Creek, with an eight mule team, two 

 wagons tied together and loaded with about eight thousand 

 pounds of buffalo bones, which he was taking to Dodge 

 City, where they are worth $15 a ton. . They are shipped to 

 St. Louis by the carload, and are said to be used in a sugar 

 refinery. He reported buffalo on the head of the Beaver 

 about one hundred miles from the Cimarron Canyon, and 

 that the country up there was said to be filled with white 

 men, Indians and Mexicans hunting them. So we went on, 

 and about dark camped. 



When it became light we saw a large herd of wild horses 

 in three bands about a mile from camp. When they noticed 

 us they edged off a little, but kept in sight of us, traveling 

 in a parallel course with us for several hours. We were 

 close enough to see the stallions herd their bands. They 

 work in the rear of the herd like a shepherd dog and bite 

 the stragglers. There were about sixty head in all. They 

 stay on this big flat summer and winter, unprotected from 

 the terrible storms, and seem fat and happy. 



At about noon we reached the Cimarron Canyon or river 

 (so called). Where we struck it, the water barely runs from 

 pond to pond. It is a broad valley about a mile wide, with 

 sandhills stretching back about five miles on each side, and 



all the antelope for fifty miles each way watering at the 

 creek and grazing in the sandhills. Where we struck the 

 creek the Harwood Cattle Company has a side ranch, where 

 they are feeding ninety saddle horses corn and seventy fine 

 bulls hay. Two men are in charge of the ranch and live in 

 a big dugout. They are Boston boys, and have got as many 

 of the comforts of civilization as they can command. Have 

 good food and lots of it furnished by the company — a very 

 uncommon thing, by the way, in the average cow camp, 

 where coffee, poor flour and bacon are all that is generally 

 furnished (beef is considered too rich for the blood). They 

 had lots of papers and "Seaside" novels, and a real kerosene 

 lamp to read by, instead of fire light and an occasional candle. 

 The creek bottom was covered with cattle and antelope. I 

 counted about a hundred antelope in sight, 



I wanted to camp near the dugout, but Tracy, who is a 

 little bashful, thought we had better go a mile up the creek, 

 and I assented. We then had a council of war in regard to 

 going on to buffalo, and Tracy and John both wanted to 

 stop at Cimarron and make a load of antelope. Tracy said 

 we didn't have enough corn to go to buffalo, and I had to 

 give in, though reluctantly. So John and Tracy went on 

 up the creek to make camp, while I stopped at the dugout 

 and mended my buggy with Texas iron (rawhide). I was 

 pretty sulky, but when Frank Mayo asked me up to dinner, 

 and told me I had better put my horses in the corral and 

 feed them hay, I began to see life iu a different aspect. I 

 didn't hurry in mending the wagon much, and at sunset 

 drove up the creek to find camp, but no camp could 1 find, 

 and just as I had turned back to go to the dugout and spend 

 the night, 1 heard Tracy's old wagon come rattling in from 

 the hills, and met him at the creek. He aud John had 

 killed three antelope and wounded another. Tracy had 

 come to camp, got the wagon and gone after the carcasses. 

 while John followed up the wounded one. By the time 

 John came in unsuccessful, we had the tent up, a fire made, 

 supper cooked — more antelope liver fried than anything 

 else — and we all ate with hunters' appetites. 



When we got up the next morning one of my horses was 

 gone, and after breakfast I started after her, while Tracy and 

 John went to the hills on foot I found my horse in about 

 an hour, took it back to camp and picketed it—tied it to a 

 stake by a long rope — and started for the hills on horseback. 

 After riding from point to point for about two hours, occa- 

 sionally catching glimpses of Tracy and John iu the dis- 

 tance, just as I came up on the hill there was an antelope 

 herd on the other slope, about half a mile away, in full 

 sight, I know some of them must have seen me as I slid off 

 my horse and crawled back out of sight on all fours, leading 

 the horse, but I peeped when I got my horse out of sight and 

 they T had all gone to feeding again. The wind was blowing 

 directly from me to them, so f had to go around them and 

 come up on the other side. The country was all very hilly 

 and 1 struck out to ride the circle at a fast lope, keeping as 

 near the antelope as the lay of the land would let me and yet 

 be out of sight. 



When I got down wind I picketed my horse and walked 

 up almost to the top of the hill and there crawled over to 

 about a hundred yards from twenty of the prettiest antelope 

 I ever saw. I carefully stuck my feet toward them, sat 

 up, rested my gun in a pair of rest 'sticks that I sometimes 

 use on a windy day, and aimed at a buck's shoulder; he fell 

 at the crack and I jumped up and got in about six more 

 shots as they ran off and saw one more drop. 



Disemboweling the two dead ones I followed the herd on 

 foot and soon found blood. When I went over the ridge 

 there stood another, shot through the paunch; he saw me 

 and ran off a few hundred yards and stopped, I followed 

 and shot at him at 250 yards' or so aud missed; then kept 

 following and missing for three miles. Just as he went up 

 a ridge about a mile ahead of me I saw six more feeding iu a 

 little'hollow to the right, and I concluded I had rather try a 

 new antelope than that old one, aud commenced to make a 

 sneak on the new band and got up to about 150 yards. Shot, 

 but miscalculated distance, and shot under, aud the bund ran 

 right toward me to about fifty yards and slopped. I put 

 that bullet in the right place anyhow, exactly into the old 

 buck's throat. He went down as if struck by lightning, and 

 the rest ran through a little opening in thehills, helped aloug 

 by a couple of shots from the Winchester as they went. I 

 heard a shot a few minutes after they had disappeared as 1 

 was bleeding and fixing my buck, and then went on top of 

 the hill to' mark it by sticking aiming sticks up and tying 

 my handkerchief to them so that I could find my game when 

 I "came after it with the wagon. As 1 stood there counting 

 the empty loops in my cartridge belt John came in sight. 

 He came over aud told me thafhe had one dead and followed 

 another about as I had and lost him at last. So I struck out 

 for my horse to tro to camp and get the buggy. In about an 

 hour 1 had the buggy back to the scene of action, got my 

 two and found Tracy and picked up one for him. Got 

 John's buck and mine and at dark was in camp: died, oh 

 my About two pounds apiece of that rarity m a hunter's 

 camp— fried liver— lots of strong coffee, and some bread and 

 butter • and we crept into bed after feeding the horses and 

 went to sleep at about 7 P. M., all three in one bed, John in 

 the middle, with loads of blankets and comforters over aud 

 under us. Nig, the dog. occasionally made a dash out of 

 the tent to run off the coyotes, who, attracted by the smell 

 of blood, howled around the tent all night, but he came 

 ri°ht back and lay close to our feet on the foot of the bed. 



"At daybreak next morning Tracy got up and cooked 

 breakfast, and John and I arose and eat it up for him, and 

 we hitched up the best team to the buggy, tied Nig, who 

 would catch a wounded antelope in good shape, behind, and 

 flew for the hills. [Nig was poisoned last week, since I got 

 home and it hurts me to have to speak of him. A big. coarse 

 black greyhound that knew as much as a man, that would 

 catch and'kill anvthing that I drew blood on, that would 

 not eat game if you left it lying around-he was the best 

 broken catch-dog that I ever owned and I never expect to 

 see his equal.] We saw antelope after driving about three 

 miles, and stopped and unhitched the horses and tied them 

 to the wheels to eat grass while we hunted, Just as we got 

 ready to go for them, two of Harwood's heiders came into 

 sio-ht both carrying a rifle. I pointed to the antelope and 

 waved them to keep out of sight as they came toward us, 

 aud they came up carefully. Tracy, John and one of them 

 crept one way, the other man and I another. Tracy and 

 company soon fired and missed. They were too far off for 

 me so 1 sat down and waited for the boys to come back. 

 We got together and had a talk. They were pretending to 

 herd cattle, but had really come out after buffalo, which 

 were reported to be drifting north. A man had seen two 

 about five miles from our camp the day before. 



While we were standing together. I saw antelope beyond, 

 us iu a shallow canyon about two miles away— I carry a 



