July 20, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



49 



up and missed him clear with both barrels. Think- 

 ing he had earned his liberty I let him go and struck off 

 through another stubble, where I got up a flock of thirty 

 or more. 



At periods I could hear M. and A.'s guns in the distance. 

 On my getting over to where I marked the flocks down, 

 I found M. and A. waiting for me, but neither had a 

 chicken. We spread out and started through the grass, 

 A. got one bird up and missed. One got up behind me 

 after I had walked by him, and I knocked him over 

 before he had gone five rods. One got up before M. and 

 started to the left at lightning speed; M. gave him one 

 barrel, which, as could be plainly seen, knocked him a 

 foot out of the line of his flight, and the second seemed not 

 to touch him. To illustrate how much shot a chick will 

 carry, that bird was picked up a quarter of a mile away 

 from where he was shot at, stone dead, just riddled with 

 shot. As it was getting dark by this time we started for 

 the team. 



Arriving at the wagon, I was surprised to find that M. 

 had his coat full of quail and rabbits he had shot while 

 over on the hills, he not missing a shot, and A. doing 

 his share of killing too. That night at home we counted 

 up and we had thirty -nine quail, two prairie chickens, 

 seven rabbits and two squirrels, besides some other birds 

 we had shot for specimens. This was not a large day, but 

 it was sufficient to stretch our legs, give us a good appe- 

 tite, and appease our thirst for "sport" for days to come. 



Brookfikld, Mo. E. K. M. 



HUNTING ON THE UPPER MISSOURI. 



It was'a hot, sultry day, the 17th of last August, when 

 Geo. Wells and his partner, Henri Moor, arrived at Fort 

 Benton, the oldest trading post and fort on 'the head 

 waters of the Missouri River. Their journey had been a 

 long drive over the old stage and freighting line running 

 between Lewistown, situated in the heart of the Judith 

 Basin, and Fort Benton, a distance of fifty miles. Their 

 route led them across a waterless plain, where in dry sea- 

 sons no moisture can be found, save occasionally an alkali 

 pool or an old-time buffalo wallow with its filthy, green 

 water, shunned by every living creature, perhaps except- 

 ing the rattlesnake. A fifty-mile drive over a dry prairie 

 in the hot days of August without water for man or beast 

 is certainly a tester for human or brute constitution. Be- 

 fore the setting sun had hid among the foothills and the 

 distant Rockies the party had reached their destination. 



Surveying the surroundings, they spread their canvas 

 in a cool, shady nook, overlooking the noble Missouri, and 

 after supper they lit their pipes and strolled far up and 

 down the river bank until the late hours of the night, 

 mapping out and discussing their work for the next few 

 days to come. 



First, there was a boat to build, then a wagon with four 

 head of bronchos to dispose of, and an outfit of pro- 

 visions, suitable clothing and ammunition to purchase 

 before embarking on our long hunting trip down river. 

 Early next morning the boat was planned and under 

 construction. It was to be 21ft. long by 5ft. in width 

 with a 20ft. mast, oarlocks for one set of oars, with lock 

 for steering oar, and a canvas cabin in the stern. Under 

 skillful workmen the boat was completed in less than a 

 week, and in the water ready to undertake its long, tedious 

 expedition. 



All that was left to do was to sell the bronchos and pur- 

 chase supplies. A person acquainted with Western ways 

 knows that it takes but a short time to make a trade or 

 sale, especially in a horse deal more than any other. By 

 the night of Aug. 23 the stock was sold and ammunition 

 and camp supplies were purchased and packed in the boat 

 chests. 



Early on the morning of the 24th Wells and his partner 

 spread their canvas to a steady breeze, raised anchor and 

 were off. 



Their aim was to make as many miles by the river as 

 circumstances and the season would permit. Their expe- 

 dition was for hunting big game and to explore the famous 

 Bad Lands. They expected to experience hardships and 

 were prepared. As for Wells, it was not by any means 

 his first trip in pursuit of noble game; he had hunted, the 

 Canadian and Minnesota woods for deer, bear and moose. 

 He had followed herds of antelope over the trackless 

 wilds of western Dakota and through the Bad Lands of 

 eastern Montana, and had followed the big-horns in the 

 Rockies. 



Their gun case contained a .45-90 Winchester, a .44 

 Marlin, one breech-loading shotgun and two ,45cal. Colt's 

 six-shooters. 



The day was beautiful, with a cool river breeze blow- 

 ing down stream. The boat was riding the water like a 

 duck and not leaking a drop, the hunters were in the best 

 of humor. The scenery was magnificent, the steep cut 

 banks of the river were a panorama ever changing. They 

 told of mysterious events of the past. In places can be 

 seen where the current is cutting away the soft banks 

 and exposing to view buried trees, logs, bones of animals, 

 etc. How long these have been hidden away no one 

 knows; but it is reasonable to suppose that the course of 

 the river is ever shifting. 



Looking to the northward, the Bear Paw Mountains 

 can be distinctly seen, while between them and the river 

 is a rolling grassy prairie. The explorer turning his at- 

 tention to the south can observe the rocky peaks of the 

 Big Belt, Little Belt, Highwood and the Snowy Ranges, 

 exhibiting themselves in the distance. Near bv are the 

 rolling foothills and occasionally a flat-topped butte 

 standing like a solitary sentinel alone on the prairie. 



This our friends knew at sight was no big game region, 

 and not until the third day out from Benton did they 

 strike favorable surroundings. The country along the 

 river became more broken and wooded with a growth of 

 scrub cottonwood and willow. The creeks and small 

 rivers that empty their waters into the Missouri become 

 more numerous, thus affording good runways and water- 

 ing places. Fresh signs of black and white-tail deer, 

 bears, wolves, elk and other wild game were numerous. 

 Frequently through the field glasses small bands of ante- 

 lope could be seen in the distance. 



It was the third night out that the boys had for supper 

 their first fresh venison. Wells brought down a fine 

 fifteen-point black-tail buck with antlers in the beauty of 

 velvet. Two days' more sailing found the hunters at the 

 mouth of the Mussleshell and among the Missouri Brakes 

 or the famous Bad Lands, with its everchanging scenery. 

 Game was found in abundance, the weather being so hot 

 the party shot only what they wanted for immediate use 

 or for fine heads. Several days were spent exploring the 



wonders of the Bad Lands; it is a vast extent of hills, 

 canons, dry coulees, washouts, blowouts, gullies and 

 burnt-outs. It is a hard country to picture. 



One of our generals who had charge of a campaign in 

 that region some years ago was asked by his friends to 

 describe this country. The general answered by saying 

 that he knew of nothing better to compare it to than to 

 "hell with its fire out." 



Our friends found many interesting things, such as 

 petrified logs, fossil fish, fossil shells, enormous bones of 

 some prehistoric animals. 



Fresh bear tracks could be seen about their camp every 

 morning and some of enormous size, made by nothing 

 smaller than a silver-tip. 



Coyotes would make the nights hideous by their howls 

 and yells, causing a pilgrim to imagine there were ten 

 thousand or more of the brutes. Frequently the blood- 

 curdling yell of a mountain lion would be heard, and with 

 the snarling, growling and fighting of the old buffalo 

 wolves over the carcass of a deer there was a wild din in 

 the air throughout the nights. The prairie and foothills, 

 far back from the river, are the favorite haunt for the 

 timid antelope; among the brakes will be found the places 

 oi refuge for the mule deer and black-tail, as well as the 

 elk and big-horn or mountain sheep and the cinnamon 

 and silver-tip bear; while in the immediate vicinity of the 

 river dwell the white-tail. 



The progress down river was fine, the ever changing 

 scenery broke the monotony of a several days' sail. 



The weather throughout the month of September was 

 hot and no place in the world could be much worse for 

 flies of all descriptions than along the Missouri. The boys 

 tried to dry hams of venison; but in vain, the flies would 

 set claim to the meat the minute the hide was taken from 

 a carcass. Under this difficulty deer hunting was 

 actually becoming monotonous, so the boys turned in the 

 direction of bears and wolves. 



Plenty of poison was put out, but Bruin appeared never 

 to be meat hungry; but as for the big buffalo wolves, 

 they were frequently tempted to accept the fatal morsel 

 of venison. 



The mouth of the Milk River was finally reached and 

 here the Missouri runs along the Indian Reserve. This 

 meant to the boys that there would be a scarcity of game 

 until they passed the reservation at least. After leaving 

 Benton but few signs of civilization were met with, 

 occasionaly an abandoned fort and trading post or an old 

 cow-camp; and frequently a lone placer miner would be 

 passed. 



The course of the Missouri is ever changing, the current 

 of the river will be cutting away at one bank, while on 

 the opposite side it is filling in: this in course of time 

 causes a great crook in the river. Such is the case at 

 Fort Buford, situated close to the Dakota-Montana 

 boundary. The fort stands near one of these great loops 

 of the river. Early one morning in October our hunters 

 came within sound of the bugle at the garrison, but instead 

 of getting nearer the river bore them away and it was six 

 hours before they were again in hailing distance of the 

 fort. White-tails became numerous again, especially on 

 the Fort Buford reservation. Wells shot several fine 

 specimens. 



It being now late in the fall, and there being many 

 miles before the explorers and hunters, and having a boat 

 load of specimens, hides and heads, they made but few 

 stops. The weather was becoming severe, the nights cold 

 and stormy. The winter winds played a mournful tune 

 through the rigging of the little craft. The icy waves 

 dashed against the sides of the boat, leaving it a glistening 

 mass of ice the next morning. 



Contrary winds prevailed, so that the progress was slow 

 and Bismarck was not reached until the end of October. 



Geese were met with in vast numbers, but most large 

 game was lef t a behind. Eight out days from Bismarck the 

 distance was made to Pierre and on the night of November 

 8 the party tied up at Chamberlain, not to make another 

 mile by water, for the next morning the river was frozen 

 over, and after waiting for several days to allow the river to 

 break up (which it did not do), the party decided to aban- 

 don the expedition, and in a few hours they were en route 

 by rail to their eastern homes. Thus ended as glorious an 

 expedition as two hunters could ask to take. They traversed 

 a river that is but little known to many, through as wild 

 a part of North America as can be found. Many nights 

 their sleep was broken by the cries of wild animals and 

 the tread of herds of deer. What more could man ask for ? 



The trip was a success in every particular. They killed 

 in all twenty-one deer, twelve old buffalo wolves, twenty 

 coyotes, one antelope, and a goodly sprinkling of small 

 game. 



They also got many fine specimens of fossils and petri- 

 factions from the Bad Lands of the Upper Missouri. 



. Remac. 



CAPE BRETON CARIBOU. 

 Editor Forest and Stream: 



Perhaps some of your readers may be interested if I tell 

 you of my trip after caribou in Cape Breton. I went in 

 the early part of January; the law allows no hunting 

 after Jan. 15, and at this season the best hunting ground 

 is upon the table land which forms the backbone of the 

 island. This table land is about thirty miles wide and 

 extends from the center of the island northward, till it 

 ends precipitously in the Atlantic at Cape North, 1,100ft. 

 high. 



My friend Mr. Cann and I went in with a party of five 

 hunters from the settlement of South Bay Ingonish. We 

 started at noon in a heavy drizzle, and after a tough 

 climb, each man on snowshoes pulling a toboggan and 

 carrying a pack containing provisions (& e., biscuits, 

 molasses and bacon), we reached the top of the mountain 

 at 5 P. M. For that night we put up in an old lumber 

 camp with a fireplace of the most primitive kind; the 

 chimney consisted of a hole in the roof, and by the morn- 

 ing we were as thoroughly smoked as red herring and 

 glad to resume our march before daybreak. Arrived at 

 the hunter's camp at 3 P. M., having seen no signs of 

 deer. & 



The camp was a log hut 10ft. square snugly placed in a 

 heavy bit of timber about 200yds. in from the edge of the 

 barren. There were marten tracks around the hut, and 

 Jim Williams became much excited, and immediately set 

 to work to build a deadfall to such fell purpose that next 

 morning he appeared leading an unfortunate little marten 

 by the back of its neck and exhibited it to us befoie kill- 

 it with a stick. 



It froze hard that night. The next morning we had an 



early breakfast and started for a day's hunt; found fresh 

 tracks of ten deer, and as there was only Hft. of snow the 

 deer had taken to the woods. We once got a glimpse of 

 them, but it was perfectly useless attempting to follow 

 them on account of the infernal noise our 8nowshoes 

 were making on the crust, so we headed back to camp 

 about 3 P. M. Stopped at a little brook on the way to 

 eat our biscuit; an old raven flapped past us, flying slowly 

 against the wind, and I put a sudden stop to his mad 

 career with a .38 Winchester bullet. We tramped on 

 again and were descending a hill when seven deer came 

 out of a wood about 600yds. in front of us and began 

 feeding; but as they were almost dead to leeward of us 

 their appetites suddenly deserted them and they remem- 

 bered another barren where they had important business 

 and made tracks for it. Everyone swore a little about 

 the poor dead crow, and we went sadly back to camp, 

 having tramped between fifteen and twenty miles. 



That night three other hunters arrived in from the 

 settlement, making ten men in a 10ft. square tent. Second 

 morning dawned bright and cold, and when we arrived 

 at the edge of the barren there were four deer about 

 500yds. in front of us. The head hunter, Mr. Hawley, 

 placed seven of us across the southern end of the barren, 

 sending two men up through the woods to windward to 

 drive the deer. As luck would have it, the deer came 

 galloping straight down on top of him. I was a little 

 ahead and to the right of him, and had a magnificent 

 broadside shot as they passed me, bringing down a splen- 

 did buck with a beautiful pair of horns. A yearling calf 

 wheeled back and passed within 40yds. of me. I dropped 

 her and turned round in time to see Jim surveying all 

 that remained of a fourth victim— a pretty little cow. 

 We hauled them into the woods, cleaned them, and 

 started for the barrens again, but the remainder of our 

 hunt was unsuccessful. 



Next day it rained and we could do nothing. Some of 

 the party went out, tracked one deer, but lost him. A 

 heavy thaw set in that night and the following day the 

 barrens were as bare of snow as in .mid summer, and we 

 feasted on large cranberries, which were growing all over 

 the place, and any one who has ever had a severe attack 

 of colic while in camp would, I am sure, have sympa- 

 thized with me that night; but owing to the kind care of 

 my hunter friends, pepper tea, hot socks and three big 

 pills I pulled through. 



The next day, a rainy Sunday, we lay in camp all day. 

 Monday morning we lashed the meat on the toboggans 

 and started for the settlement. A silver thaw during the 

 night had made the road slippery, and our twelve-mile 

 tramp to the edge of the mountains was about the most 

 tiresome piece we ever put in. But the getting down the 

 slippery side of that mountain wasn't, and what with 

 running into trees and getting upset, I still can't under- 

 stand how we reached the bottom with no broken bones. 



Next day we said good-bye to our kind hunter friends 

 with many regrets, and set out on our sixty-mile drive for 

 home. We considered our trip a most successful one, as 

 parties often go in, but don't see a deer. And if you hap- 

 pen to pass this way just drop in, and I will show you the 

 head of my buck with his fine pair of horns. R. C. B. 

 Sydney Mines, Cape Breton. 



Calibers for Big Game. 



Poetland, Ind.— Editor Forest and Stream-. I have 

 just read Lieut. Kieffer's interesting article on "Caliber 

 for Big Game Shooting." Recently I wrote you of my 

 experience with a small caliber rifle. The gun was a .33- 

 20 and not a .32-40, as stated in the letter. Two of the- 

 deer were shot once, one twice, and two of the five three 

 times, but they all fell within sight. I have hunted with 

 a .45-95, but for forest hunting prefer, as I said, a .38-40, 

 or in place of that some close breeched medium caliber 

 using a short cartridge. They are so handy for rapid fir- 

 ing in the timber. 



That a large caliber gun has the greater stopping power 

 I do not question, and yet Lieut. Kieffer cites an instance 

 where Mr. Harvey Robe put two balls through the heart 

 of a buck from a .40-83-260 rifle, and the buck ran 100yds. ; 

 while last fall I shot a 12-point buck through the heart 

 with a .38-40 Winchester at a distance of 85yds. and he 

 ran just thirty-five steps. In October, 1893, 1 killed seven 

 deer with eight hits with this same .38. Two of them 

 were running and fell within 50yds. One sneaked and 

 lay down about 40yds. away. One was lying down and 

 never got up, while the other three dropped. I believe 

 this: if a deer's lungs are inflated when he is shot, he will 

 run until his breath is exhausted. 



G, W. Cunningham. 



Halifax, N. S.— Editor Forest and Stream; In your 

 issue of 6th inst. "Lieut. Kieffers" has an article on "Cali- 

 ber for Big Game Shooting." He advocates something 

 which when it hits will hit hard. The Winchester .50- 

 110-300 hollow-pointed ball fills the bill exactly. True, a 

 great many ridicule it, calling it a cannon, and say the 

 recoil is so great it throws off the aim. But such is not 

 the case; the recoil does not begin to be as great as with 

 the Martini, at present used by the Canadian militia, and 

 with which first-class shooting is being done all over 

 Canada. 



Its only fault in my opinion is want of penetration. 

 For example, a moose shot by me last year at 200yds. was 

 hit in the side, the ball making a clean hole at its en- 

 trance, penetrating the rib without breaking it, going 

 through the lung, cutting off the large bloodvessel at the 

 junction with the heart and breaking the rib on the op- 

 posite side, the bullet lodging under the skin. Now this 

 bullet did not pass through any very hard substance, and 

 in my opinion should have gone clean through the 

 animal. 



This moose ran nearly 500yds. before falling and then 

 dropped perfectly dead. Again I have seen an animal hit 

 over Ihe high bone in the fore shoulder and with such 

 force that the animal fell at once, although not dead; but 

 here again there was but little penetration in comparison 

 with smaller calibers, which I have seen make a hole 

 clean through and through, but the animal did not stop 

 so soon. I have picked out my bullet on several occasions 

 and found it generally turned back and spread out to 

 about the size of a 25-cent piece. 



This principle of hitting with a shock and making a big 

 hole is adhered to strongly by the Indians. In most cases 

 an experienced Indian guide will prefer to use a common 

 smooth-boro gun and trust to getting close, in place of 

 taking a rifle, which according to them "make too leettle 

 hole, no much blood come." ' Tiam. 



