Kor. 12, 1885.1 



OS 



Address all co)nmunicalionn !:<> the b^^resl and ,'<lroitni- .I'uliiish - 

 ing <X>. 



EAST OF THE CASCADES. 



^I^HE section of British Columbia from whicli these notes 



I- are forwarded, thougli by no means such a hunler's 

 paradise as some olher portions of the Province, will be 

 found to yield fair and varied sport to the painstaking 

 hunter who is willing to undergo the necessary hard work 

 to bring his efforts to a successful conclusion. A few years 

 ago the foothills in this vicinity were covered with a luxuri- 

 ant growth of bunch grass, but as bauds of cattle multiplied, 

 summering and wintering on the same range, the country 

 began to assume a bare appearance. Wormwood and other 

 plants .succeeded the bunch grass, however, and these, with 

 the quantity of grass yet remaining, made fair pasturage. 

 A few miles back in the hills, where cattle are driven for the 

 summer of late years, the feed is still excellent. 



The small stream from which the local village receives its 

 name is a feeder of the Bonaparte River, which, in its turn, 

 flows into the Thompson, the chief ailiuent of the golden 

 Frazer. Both Cache Creek and the Bonaparte flow through 

 bottoms thickly covered with cottonwood, birch and willow, 

 which affords good cover for rabbits and ruffed grouse. 

 Wing-shooting in these bottoms is almost impossible, how- 

 ever, owing to the denseness of the brush, and the hunter 

 will usually flod bis best companion a dog that will flush 

 the birds and then bark at them as they tree. Not very 

 sportsmanlike, perhaps, but usually giving fair returns, thie 

 writer's first half day's bag this season being six and a half 

 brace and the next five and a half. 



For some distance up the hills that skirt the Cache Creek 

 and Bonaparte valleys there is no timber except in the gulches 

 which carry their quota of water down to the main stream, 

 but a half hour's ride will sufiice to bring one to scattering 

 pines. These gradually become denser as the mountains are 

 ascended until, interspersed with fir, they afford abundant 

 shelter for game. Here begins the blue grouse shooting, 

 which is generally excellent and will fully cooipcnsate the 

 sportsman for the fatigue of the trip, the writer having on 

 one occasion bagged fifteen of these noble birds in a cross- 

 country walk of a few miles. At the commencement of the 

 season good sport may be had with prairie chickens by going 

 back a few miles in the hills where the grass is more plenti- 

 ful and gives greater shelter to the young broods. A friend 

 mentioned the other day that, when hunting cattle on Hat 

 Creek and other tributaries of the Bonaparte, he and his party 

 came across hundreds of chickens. Later in the fall they 

 begin to frequent the stubble of the grain fields, and fair 

 shooting may then be had without leaving the lowlands. The 

 lakes in the neighborhood, of which there are numbers, are 

 in spring and autumn alive with ducks of various kinds, and 

 in some of them wild geese are also plentiful. 



From the end of September, when the deer begin to come 

 down from their summer ranges, to the beginning of the 

 close season, deer are abundant, and though a kill may not 

 be made every day by still-hunting, a satisfactory result 

 surely awaits patience and perseverance. By camping out 

 for a few weeks in September and October, when the deer 

 are fat. and before the keen frosts commence, a surprisino- 

 quantity may be obtained, as many as sixty-five having fallen 

 to the lot of one hunter last season.' Large game is 

 steadily increasing in number, for, as the Indians become 

 more and more habituated to the white man's ways, they 

 depend to a greater degree upon agricultural and other labor, 

 and proportionately less upon their guns and traps, with the 

 natural result of making game not only more plentiful, but 

 much more accessible. By traveUng back some distance 

 into the mountains bear may be met with, the Indians hriug- 

 ing in a few skins every season. Grizzly bears are reported 

 to have been seen, but this may be doubted. 



In nearly all the waters fishing is excellent, the fly beino- 

 readily taken, though sometimes a grasshopper kilJs when 

 nothing else will. In Cache Creek and the Bonaparte the 

 trout are small, a one-pounder in the latter stream being an 

 exceptional fish. The take is usually large, however, strings 

 of seventy-five to a hundred and twenty having been the 

 rule with the writer when fishing in July and August of last 

 year. Reliable persons speak of some of the mountain lakes 

 as being unsurpassed for heavy catches of trout. The friend 

 referred to above stated that he and a brother fisherman took 

 210 trout from Hat Creek one evening, while other members 

 of the party were preparing supper. To use his own ex- 

 pression, "the fish would jump at the raw hook." The 

 Thomson River, a beautiful clear stream, distant five or six 

 miles by good wagon road from Cache Creek, will give the 

 angler splendid sport, the ti-out being large and gamest of the 

 game. 



By way of practicafly illustrating the nature and quality 

 of the deer hunting, a sketch, which may prove of iuterest, 

 is given of a day's work on the Cache Creek hills. It is not 

 intended to convey the idea that similar results are to be ex- 

 pected every day, but it certainly falls far short of what may 

 be and often has been done on the same ground. It is to be 

 remembered, too, that the hunt was made on foot out and 

 back again, necessitating a large expenditure of time and 

 labor before reaching and after leaving the real hunting 

 ground. The trip could as well have been made on horse^ 

 back, for there is scarcely a spot that may not be easily and 

 safely reached on horseback in this part of the country. 



With about three inches of snow on the ground, the writer 

 started from the settlement, intending to hunt through the 

 timbered and grassy country on top of the mountains north 

 of Cache Creek. After leaving the open bills and while 

 climbing a steep and rocky sidehill just before reaching the 

 first thickly-timbered bench, a big old blue grouse presented 

 tco tempting a mark to be resisted, and he was accordingly 

 scalped at forty yards. The echoes of the report had not 

 died away before three deer went bounding down the 

 mountain, no doubt startled by the unlucky shot. There 

 was no fair chance to shoot as they rat tied through the 

 timber, and by the time they showed on the bare ground 

 they were safely out of range; so, after watching them till 

 hidden from view iu a deep gulch, the upward journey was 

 resumed with fervent vows never again to shoot at a grouse 

 in a deer country. 



Turning easterly on reaching the bench, the traveling was 

 superb, the snow being soft and noiseless and not a twig to 

 snap under the foot. The first sign of the proximity of deer 

 was given by a faithful old retriever, who had been per- 

 mitted to share the hunt. Throwing up his head he snuffed 

 eagerly, and pleaded by look and act for leave to go. The 

 closest inspection failed to reveal any reason for his excite- 



roeot, but the next few scops proved that Spring's nose was 

 not at fault, for up jumped a fine buck and disappeared in 

 the timber before a shot could be got. As the country was 

 familiar, an attempt was made to head him by striking over 

 the point of » little ridge overlooking an open' stretch which 

 he would be likely to cross. Calculation was at fault, how- 

 ever, for nothing more Wfis seen of him. Numerous fresh 

 tracks, all making for the ridges above, led to a turn straisht 

 up the hill. Five or ten minutes' travel showed a couple of 

 medium-sized deer on the slope ahead taking their way leis- 

 urely along the hillside. Too late to get a crack at the leader 

 as he crossed a little opening on the trot, the bullet was 

 donated to his chum, who dropped in his tracks only to 

 struggle to his feet again and make off in the wake of' the 

 first. A drop or two of blood, a scrap of hnir, and nothing 

 more. ^ The pair cro.ssed the top of the ridge, bounded into 

 the hollow beyond, where they were joined hy five or six 

 others that had been quietly feeding, and then off to thene:ct 

 ridge, where their white Hags waved an aggravating good- 

 bye as the whole band entered a stretch of country too rough 

 for further pursuit. 



Turning westward then along the highest slope of the 

 mountain, through scattering firs and grassy hollows, a few 

 hundred yards brought into view a bit of ground that seemed 

 expressly made for deer. Standing on a httle elbow of rock, 

 beyond which the landscape widened so that the eye had an 

 onward sweep for five or six hundred yards, the writer gazed 

 and gazed again till all but certain that not a deer was within 

 the range of vision. Suddenly, as if by magic, a magnificent 

 doe, that had been standing perfectly 'motionless, strikes the 

 eye, and once her shape is caught seems as plain as if against 

 the sky. Rifle to the shoulder, a quick but sure sight, the 

 pressure of the finger, and with the report she is" tearing 

 down the grassy slope, a broken foreleg swinging as she goes. 

 Through a clump of small firs, rouiid a little knoll, and the 

 eye loses her ; but where she first stood or near it fidgets a 

 young buck evidently preparing for a start. The swif test of 

 glances along the barrel, another crack of the Winchester 

 and his hindquarters he helpless as he struggles frantically 

 to raise himself by means of his forelegs. A steady shot from 

 the knee reaches his brain and ends his misery. 



Meantime a third deer has been slipping off through the 

 trees until, satisfied that he is sale, he gives a broadside 

 chance at three hundred yards (the others were just a 

 hundred and twenty) of which advantage is duly taken, but 

 his day has not yet come, and he bounds off unhurt. Then 

 to the trail of the wounded doe, whose every blood stained 

 jump is plainly discernible. A dozen yards from where she 

 was last seen she lies dead, shot through the heart, a perfect 

 beauty, the sight of whose noble figure lying stretched upon 

 the stained snaw chases away every feeling of weariness. 

 To the honor of Spring be it said that through the whole of 

 the exciting scene he had remained faithfully by his master's 

 side. The two deer were dragged to the foot of the timber, 

 and home was reached by the middle of the afternoon. 

 Five days later, curiosity led the writer to see if the coyotes 

 had found the deer's entrails, and withui twenty yards of 

 the spot where the doe fell, he shot a solitary deer which 

 was doubtless the last of the trio. R. M. C. 



Oache Creek, B. C. 



IN LONESOME CANYON.* 



FROM the window where I write, the eye overlooking 

 the deep broad valley beneath with its serpentine river, 

 the broad stretches and undulating mesas intermediate, rests 

 upon the ragged and irregular masses which are the foothills 

 of the MogoUon Mountains. The plains are studded with 

 dwarf growth, sage brush, ereasewood, yew, mesquite and 

 countless varieties of the cactus, some of them wonderful in 

 their brilliant, wax-like forms of beauty. 



Higher up, as the ground is more broken and torn and 

 scarred by intermittent and headlong torrents, the vegetable 

 growth changes to a hardier nature. Stunted pines and firs 

 dot the olive green of the manzanita with darker shades, 

 while at intervals the somber verdure of the cottonwoods 

 marks the depressions of the plateau like the buttons which 

 sink in the velvet of your easy chair. But at the point where 

 the foothills rise, brilliant croppings of rocks, fantastic in 

 form and gorgeous in color, are crowned by the redder stems 

 of the Norway pines or the silver bark of the aspen, pillars 

 which support a luxuriant coronal of foliage. Through the 

 sharp and hidden clefts of these mountain skirmishers ia the 

 plains are entrancing vistas of grassy hollows high up in the 

 mountain's secret places, bordered b}' the pines, whose tops 

 still murmur with the music that pleased the ears of old 

 Theocritus. 



Through one of the deepest of these caiions tumhles a 

 mountain stream with a roar wonderful in this land of 

 silence. The waters are enlivened by numbers of beautiful 

 mountain trout, some like our own, but of a darker, taw- 

 nier hue and fiercer nature, as befits their abode. You will 

 comprehend the attractions of such a place to a sportsman, 

 especially as the angling is supplemented by fine hunting'; 

 for in the neighborhood deer, antelope and bear abound, and 

 on the grassy uplands arc bands of turkeys that in weight 

 and style discount their puny market brethren. 



Follow up this stream (Oak Creek is its name, so singularly 

 inappropriate that it jars to write it), and after threading a 

 labyrinth with perpendicular waUs to the heig'at of several 

 hundred foet, you suddenly find yourself at the entrance 

 of a vast amphitheatre. On all sides the mountains rise to 

 tbe clouds, their terraced sides forming seats for Titanic 

 spectators, and the small green inclosure a stage from which 

 it would seem that even the victor could not escape. This 

 retreat is known only to a few white men. It has been 

 named the Indian Ranch; and it has a ghastly history, like 

 its old Roman prototype. Several years ago, after the 

 Apaches were supposed to have been conquered and caged, 

 all through this region murders and outrages were frequent. 

 The miscreants could not bo detected. Prospectors failed 

 to return from their trips. Muers were slain ; women out- 

 raged; settlers cut off. None escaped to reveal the perpetra- 

 tors. The troops failed to arrest the march of terror; and 

 many persons attributed to renegade whites these nameless 

 crimes. At last, through the instrumentality of a squaw, a 

 government scout with a band of men followed an unknown 

 trail to this rock-bound Indian Raach. Seven bucks and 

 three squaws, including the one who betrayed them, were 

 surrounded and put to death. These few Indians, emerging 

 from this impenetrable retreat, were the agents who 'had 

 wrought all the mischief in their nocturnal excm-sions. 



With what i know of this region, and having plenty of 

 food well hidden, I would as Jief the whole army hunted me, 

 and 1 would snap my fingers in derision. The whole place 



*lfxtracta from a private letter from Jerome. A. T.. to a New York 

 gentleman, 



has a suggestion of gloom and bloodshed. Two miles down 

 the stream the bottom land widens out broad enough for a 

 garden, and here is a cabin once occupied by a man named 

 Wilson. After the Indians had been driven from the neigh- 

 borhood, Wilson supported himself by the product of this 

 mimatui-e farm and by the game killed in hunting. He was 

 a man of middle age, hospitable but reticent. As he never 

 told l,he reason of his self-exile, you are at liberty to call to 

 the aid of imagination the accessories of a love affair or the 

 msmuatmg mystery of a crime. But having known him I 

 could believe no ill of him, and my task of tracing his last 

 acts is as simple as it is to foUow a blazed trail. I spent two 

 months of mid wmter in the mountains above his home, and 

 we occasionally met, with rifle on shoulders, and exchanged 

 our small talk in regard to the abundance or scarcity of 

 deer, the "bar" sign and kindred matters relatine to wood- 

 craft, fie was a keen hunter and a good shot and his re- 

 marks overflowed with valuable hints to a younger man. 

 The last time he left me, it was after a night spent by the 

 camp-fire in one of the picturesque mountain parks, and in 

 parting, I wished him good luck, and on his part he left be- 

 hind a pleasant impression. One night about ten days ago, 

 a messenger appeared at the mines in great haste, saving 

 that Wilson's body had been found by a cowboy, lying "in a 

 canon of Oak Creek, and the justice of the peace desired us 

 to go with him to view it. We were soon mounted and on 

 the way, picking up here and there a stray ranchman until 

 the jury was sufficient. A ride of fifty miles brought us to 

 the entrance of the gorge, where we dismounted, the better 

 to follow our giude. The familiar features of the place once 

 delightful, now filled me with dread which culminated in 

 horror when we paused before the sad remnant of what was 

 once a man. From the evidences about, the whole tragedy 

 was an open book to these frontiersmen. Wilson, some seven 

 days before, accompanied by two burros and his dog, had 

 started for a neighboring ranch to secure his supply of 

 potatoes. While on the steep trail which leads into the 

 recesses of what I called the ampitheatre he discovered a 

 bear, and from the tracks it must have been a large one. 

 Wilson was a hrave man and prepared himself for a struggle. 

 He left his coat and spurs with the burros, and with his dog 

 followed the bear; came upon it suddenly at a sharp 

 turn of the rocks, and as his rifle showed us, two .shots had 

 been fired. Unless the bear's heart or brain was pierced the 

 man's situation was extremely perilous. He had attempted 

 to throw himself into a tree, but the bear had caught him by 

 the heel, tearing off the sole of his boot and throwing him 

 upon the ground. Now a fight, with his knife as a weapon, 

 began, and the prints upon the ground told us that it was a 

 desperate one. The bear escaped with two balls and that 

 hunting knife in his body, and left poor Wilson lying face 

 downward in a shallow pool, his skull crushed and his ribs 

 broken. Seven days, watched by his hunting dog, he lay 

 there before discovery; and now, horrible to write, comes a 

 blow to the euphemistic exaltation of the canine race— the 

 dog had eaten and lived upon the flesh of his slain master. 

 Worse yet, the dog is still lying under my window while he 

 waits my verdict as to palliating circumstances. A rifle ball 

 will probably be his fate. 



"What is your verdict, gentlemen?" said the coroner. 



"Too much b'ar," said the gentleman at my right and we 

 all indorsed it, slightly qualifying the words. We dug a 

 grave near by and wrapped the dead man in his blanket. 



The solemnity of that saddened group of men could not 

 be heightened by priestly words. "He wasn't afraid of 

 nuthin'," muttered the friend at my right; and we all re- 

 garded it as a competent ritual. There, in the heart of the 

 Mogollons, Wilson lived; there he died, and there we buried 

 him in Lonesome Canon. 



This is the end of my story. At least it has the merit of 

 truth. Many bear stories seem to us aprocryphal, but this 

 entirely lacks humor; it is an unvarnished relation of simple 

 facts and a tragic termination. F. E. M. 



AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



EcUlor Forest mid Stream: 



The camera is fast becoming a necessary part of the outfit 

 of the sportsman and tourist. I remember but one article 

 on the subject in your journal, and that was by one of the 

 editorial staff. I was tempted to take up the art of photo- 

 graphy by the hope of securing some views of camps in the 

 West. I was a greenhorn in every sense of the word. My 

 notions of what was necessary and of the process were of 

 the most vague description. I had no guide but the pamph- 

 lets issued by those who have the outfits for sale, and of 

 course the main object of these is to sell. If my experience 

 will help any one in the craft I will be glad of it. Let no 

 one think that amateur photography is an inexpensive amuse- 

 ment, for it is not; very few amusements are. But one can 

 get as much enjoyment for the money expended as in any 

 other way I know of, and it is an enjoyment that is lasting, 

 for the results can always be seen. When the hunter or the 

 fisherman can combine the art with his other pursuits, he 

 will have great pleasure in looking over his pictures and 

 showing them to his friends; and descriptions of jaunts 

 after game or into the country are much more interiesting 

 when so illustrated. When at home during the long winter 

 evening hours, or on dull, stormy days, the sportsman 

 photographer can get out his views of the pleasant spots "to 

 memory dear," and live over again each happy hour spent 

 in the wild wood, by the dashing stream, or in the rocky 

 fastness of some mountain valley. Certainly then, though 

 the amusement is expensive, the price paid for the whistle is 

 not too much. 



Can everybody make photogi-aphs? I am almost tempted 

 to reply yes; but perhaps I "should say that if a person is 

 possessed of patience in a moderate degree, and any tact for 

 "doing things" at all, he can make photograhs. How long 

 will- it take'to make good pictures'? That also depends. 

 You may make a good negative the first trial, though the 

 chances are that you will not. But by paying attention to 

 points wherein you fail, you ought to get one or two good 

 negatives from your first dozen plates; and as you progress 

 you wUl improve. 



For an outfit, my advice would be get a 5x8 camera, 

 because you can use a smaller plate if desired, and with a 

 5x8 you can cover a large field, or by tipping up take a fair- 

 sized full-length portrait. There are several good makers of 

 hoxes, but it pays to get a fair quality at the start, sav one 

 costing %Vi to $20. This is exclusive of the lense", but 

 should include the tripod (which should be telescopic, for 

 obvious reasons) and one plate holder. 



There are lenses and lenses; and no doubt it would be 

 nearly impossible to get any one lense to do everything 

 properly. As in other matters, a thing which performs one 

 service well, will fail in some other. Combination tools 



