134 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



lAuG. 18, 1892. 



THE FALL HUNT. 



For live days I could almost hear the monotonous pat- 

 ter of those two horses' hoofs coming nearer and nearer 

 from northern New Mexico. I could shut my eyes and 

 see Mat's tall figure coming as if he was a part of the 

 horse he rode. Young, tall , a clean cut face, blue eyes, 

 curly yellow hair, a trifle bleached out by living in the 

 open all summer. But it was not by second sight that I 

 knew he was coming. I had received a telegram which 

 said: "Coming with two horses; trunk b}^ express. Mat." 

 I knew what it meant. Mat's steers were sold and he 

 was coming to spend a month or so with me hunting and 

 enjoying society — hunting a little and cooking some for 

 his own pleasure. Mat is a Yankee cowman who has 

 lived in New Mexico for several years, and who has 

 made a practice to come and see me every fall, I know 

 every water hole, every stream and almost every rock 

 from his ranch to where we live; and so I can reckon 

 how long it will take him to come. I told my wife, 

 "So you can expect Mat Saturday night. We will go 

 on a hunt Monday." 



Saturday at 3 o'clock Mat came up to my offica 

 door, riding a beautiful black pony and leading a white 

 one packed scientifically. The halter of White was 

 hitched securely to Black's tail, and Mat paid no more 

 attention to him than if he didn't have a second horse. 



He dropped his bridle and came into the office. 

 "How are the folks?" "Well." "Have you been on 

 Pawnee lately?" "No, but everything is all right there. 

 Come over to the house and we will stable the horses. I 

 win be ready to go hunting Monday." It took but a 

 short while to go to my house, unsaddle and unpack and 

 soon the ponies had their noses deep in mangers of 

 fragrant gramma grass. 



Matthew looked like another man when he came into 

 the supper room a little later. When he rode up he had 

 on a suit of faded corduroy, a big white sombrero, and 

 the boots with toothpick heels that are usually worn by 

 cowboys. When he stepped into the dining room he was 

 in a black suit that fitted like a glove, and looked like the 

 gentleman that he is. 



We sat up and talked far into the night, for we are 

 partners in a bunch of mares that he is taking care of, 

 and he had much to tell me. The next morning my wife 

 remarked: "It seemed that you men never would stop 

 talking last night. I woke up last night to hear Will 

 declare that he never would own another of those Nor- 

 mans again and I believe that he talked you to sleep, Mr. 

 King, for . I know he followed you into your bedroom." 

 But she didn't mean it, for I know she likes him almost 

 as well as I do. 



We commenced after breakfast to prepare for a little 

 hunting trip, and in two days we started and steered 

 northwest. In my old hunting buggy familiarly called 

 the mud wagon, we loaded up tent and blankets, 

 saddles and ropes, man food and horse feed, guns and 

 cartridges. It's hard work to keep out useless things 

 from an outfit, when I go hunting: and so I have adopted 

 this method. I first pile everything I think I want on 

 the floor in one room, and then weed it out till the load 

 fits the wagon. I can get enough for a two weeks' hunt 

 on the horse I ride if I have to, but I doa't like to, so I 

 generally go in a buggy or wagon if I can. We hitched 

 up my two bay horses,' Mat tied his ponies to the horses' 

 girths; and away we went over miles and miks of prairie, 

 level, dun colored and cold. There were but few houses 

 in sight at the start, till after 20 miles there was not one: 

 and at about sunset we drove down to Hackberry Spring 

 to find that Fay, the old squatter, who had held it down 

 for several years, had proved up and gone. The door of 

 his stone house stood open, and we appropriated it and 

 soon had our outfit inside. I picketed the bays on good 

 grass: and Mat saddled up to prospect around, while I 

 got supper. Hackberry Canon is a wide open valley run- 

 ning down into the Pawnee Creek, and has only one 

 good water-hole which is close to the spring which 

 bubbles out of the bank near the cabin and runs down 

 into the water-hole a distance of about 200 yards. 



By the time I had made a fire, cleaned up the room, ar- 

 ranged our plunder and had a good supper ready. Mat 

 came in looking pleased. "There is a bunch of ante- 

 lope," he reported, "about a mile up the draw feeding, as 

 quiet as if they had never seen a man. Cook is still on 

 his ranch down at the mouth of Hackberry. Mrs. Cook 

 wants us to come down and camp there, for Cook has 

 gone away to be gone a week and she is afraid of. the 

 mountain lion." 



So we ate supper, packed up again and moved down to 

 Cook's, as I knew we would when we unpacked. For 

 now I will let you into an open secret. The real reason 

 Mat liked to hunt antelope on the Pawnee so well was 

 that there was an attraction at Cook's ranch. When we 

 rode up, Mrs. Cook and Nelly were bustling around get- 

 ting supper. After we had unpacked again, we had to 

 eat another supper and then Mrs. Cook and I exchanged 

 news, while Mat and Nelly, who was a very handsome 

 girl of 19, talked politics in the adjoining room. I re- 

 tired at 10 and Mat came to bed two hours after in good 

 spirits and seeming at peace with the world. " We are 

 going to be married on Thanksgiving day, if Cook gets 

 home all right," said he, which will show you, dear 

 reader, that Matthew had been acquainted with the 

 family before. 



Don't think I am going to tell you much more about 

 how these people spooned around. No, I am going to tell 

 you how we killed the big buck, and try to have you see 

 the broad prairie as I saw it. 



Early next morning after breakfast Miss Nell declared 

 that she was going hunting with us to hold the horses. 

 Mrs. Cook said: "If Nellie will be in the way, Mr. D., I'll 

 not let her go." I declared that I was glad to have a 

 horse holder; and so Mat, Nell and I started up the canon 

 in my buggy with Mat's horses hitched up; but they were 

 not Mat's more than five minutes longer, for he asked 

 Nell how she liked them, after she had driven them about 

 a mile, and when she said, "Splendid," he told her he 

 brought them up for her, and I believe I would have 

 given her a pair myself to get such a look as she gave 

 liim. 



But soon we left the'creek bottom and drove up on to 

 the level prairie. Seeking a knoll, we swept the sur- 

 rounding country with field glasses, and at last discov- 

 ered the same bunch of antelope that Mat saw the night 



before, 10 in number, led by an enormous buck. They 

 were just feeding up out of a little hollow about two 

 miles away, and headed right toward us. We drove 

 back out of sight. Mat and I slid into our leather panta- 

 loons, so that we could crawl without wearing our knees 

 out, and planned our crawl. We had to crawl over the 

 hill in plain sight of the band and be in sight for half a 

 mile. If they saw us they would probably take us for 

 wolves, and not be frightened; then we could walk up a 

 hollow that ran across their line of feeding, till the 

 hollow got too shallow to conceal us as we walked, then 

 crawl about half a mile more. It was a big contract; 

 but at it we went, and in about half an hour we lay near 

 the head of the swag, in a little hollow that had been 

 worn long ago by the water, within half a mile of the 

 antelope, who were feeding toward us unsuspicious of 

 danger. I was perspiring freely, and my heart thumped 

 against my ribs ; but Mat looked as cool as a cucumber, 

 for he was in good condition and looked as if he could 

 crawl all day without losing his wind. 



We lay and watched the band through the tall grass 

 that fringed the water hole. An old doe was in the lead; 

 and the big buck was behind , occasionally running off a 

 young buck that was hanging around, when he came too 

 near his harem. The hair on the neck of the buck stood 

 up like a mane when he ran olT the young one, and I 

 could see that he looked white around the nose as I 

 squinted at him through the field glasses. 



They moved toward us very slowly, and once I thought 

 they were going to change their course. But no, they fed 

 slowly on by fits and starts. The does got within lOOyds. , 

 the big buck 50yds. further back, and the young one— a 

 two year old— about oOyds. behind him. "We have got 

 to shoot," said Mat. I told him to shoot the big one (for 

 I knew Nell was watching us), and that I would try 

 the little buck. We sighted our Winchesters carefully 

 and both shot at once. The big buck reared and pawed 

 the air, then fell stone dead with a bullet clean through 

 him. Mine fell, then got up and started after the does, 

 which were making themselves scarce as fast as possible. 

 I fired twice more at him and down he came at the second 

 shot; and by the time Miss Nell had arrived with the 

 ponies on a lope, and with the old mud wagon bouncing 

 over the rough prairie, we had our quarry disembowled; 

 and after gazing a moment admiringly at the big buck 

 we lifted them both into the back end of the buggy and 

 drove slowly down to the Hackberry spring, intending to 

 stop there and have lunch: fried antelope liver, fried salt 

 pork, fried potatoes, bread and butter, pickles and strong 

 coffee. Mat and NeU cooked while I picketed out the 

 horses. 



We ate an awful big meal. As Nell was finishing off 

 with a big pickle, Mat asked her if he shouldn't fry her 

 another panful of liver. She said no, simply, but with 

 an amiable smile. His foolishness bounds off that young 

 woman very harmlessly. Just then Harry Cook, her 

 twelve-year-old brother, came down the slope into our 

 camp like a shot out of a gun on his bicycle, and took a 

 header just as he reached camp. He landed with a re- 

 sounding thump on his stomach and slid along like a 

 toboggan; then limped into camp, holding both hands 

 over his chest rather low down, and gurgled in a voice 

 broken with sobs, "Oh, wouldn't ma feel awful if she saw 

 me fall like that. Nelly?" We assured ourselves that he 

 was not seriously hurt; NeU declared that she knew she 

 would get gray some day on account of Harry's perform- 

 anceo; and then Mat fried another panful of liver and 

 Mr. Harry ate as if he was hollow clean down to his 

 toes. "I believe the fall just shook Harry up enough to 

 give him a good appetite," said Mat. "You just git on 

 that velocipede and try it yourself, you old, long cow 

 puncher," grumbled Harry, with his mouth full of liver. 



We concluded to quit hunting and drive home to the 

 ranch on Harry's account, for he was jolted up consider- 

 ably; so we put the velocipede in on top of the bucks and 

 went slowly home. 



When we got there we found that two ladies had driven 

 up from ten miles down the creek to visit Mrs. Cook, and 

 they were having a great powwow when we arrived. I 

 tell you four lively women can talk considerably when 

 they don't meet but once in two weeks. Harry sat in one 

 corner seeming to be awed for once at the four women 

 who all talked at once like a flock of blackbirds, till at last 

 he couldn't stand it any longer, and burst out in a dismal 

 wailing, "Boo hoo." "What is the matter, Harry?" said 

 Mrs. Cook in an anxious tone. "I told a lie yesterday, 

 ma," "Oh, how could you do such a wicked thing, 

 Harry? You must pray for forgiveness to-night." "I 

 will," nenitently exclaimed Harry, and then at it the 

 women* went again about dress skirts cut bias and other 

 kindred subjects dear to a woman's heart, till Harry con- 

 cluded that he was not receiving due consideration and 

 burst out again with a melancholy howl. "What's the 

 matter now, Harry?" snappishly exclaimed Mrs. Cook. 

 "I just now remembered that I had told another lie." 

 "When was that?" "Oh, about an hour after the first 

 one." "Well, that was very bad; you must pray to be 

 forgiven for both to-night." 



Mat and I, who were in the next room, slid out to 

 relieve our feelings behind the house, but Mat didn't joke 

 any about it, for he is loyal to the whole Cook family. 



The women departed at last and we had supper, after 

 which Mrs. Cook and I beat Nell and Mat at dominoes, as 

 Mrs. Cook is a religious woman, and does not believe in 

 cards. 



I went to bed early and Mat came some time, but I do 

 not blame him, for he seems to enjoy Nell's society. 

 When I got up next morning, they were both bustling 

 round, Nell getting breakfast and Mat helping her. Mrs. 

 Cook and Harry had not appeared yet. I went out to 

 feed the horses; and when I came in the family were all 

 up and w^aiting for me to help eat breakfast. After 

 breakfast I overheard Mat tell Harry a story. It ran as 

 follows: "When I lived in Kansas I worked for Bob 

 Perry; and ;one day he told me that we must go from 

 Jetmore, where we lived, up to the ranch to see how the 

 cattle were getting along. We went. It was a distance 

 of 20 miles, and when we got to the cabin we found it 

 had bpen broken open and the grub all stolen, so Bob shot 

 an owl and told me to cook it for supper. I cooked it 

 whole, feathers and all, it was so small; and after boiling 

 it for about an hour Bob asked me how dinner was get- 

 ting along. I raised the cover and tried the owl with a 

 fork to see if he was tender; and he squawked, so I slap- 

 ped the lid on again, and left him to cook some more. 

 At about 6 o'clock Bob came in and said we must have 

 dinner, so I raised the cover of the pot again and the owl 



jumped out and flew away." "I am afraid ma will have 

 to talk to you some about lying, before she lets Nell 

 marry you," was Harry's comment on the story. 



I started for home at noon and nevpr saw Nell Cook 

 again, for on Dec. 1 or therebouts Mr. and Mrs. Mat 

 King came to town to take the train for New Mexico; 

 and I shall call on them at their home in Chaparral Caflon 

 on or about Oct. 1, if I am alive. W. J. Dixon. 



"PODGERS" IN THE MOUNTAINS.— IK 



In the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Cal,, .July 31.— 

 My last left me lying under the shade of the big pines on 

 the bank of the main Stanislaus River nursing my galled 

 feet, preparatory to resuming fishing, which I essayed 

 the next morning, with only partial success as to feet, 

 but fair as to trout, considering that I selected the easiest 

 fishing in close proximity to the camp, not caring to do 

 tall climbing over rocks and sliding down into the deep 

 gorges to reach the big pools and larger trout. 



A few hours of it convinced me that the feet would 

 give out before the trout did, and I returned to camp to 

 resume my blanket under the trees. I had caught all 

 the trout a reasonable man could ask for and was 

 content. 



At sundown my compadre Brown came in with some 

 very fine fish, and after a hearty supper we voted to re- 

 turn next morning to our headquarters at Sirawberry 

 Valley and Parson's comfortable hostelry, where we had 

 left the team, and one of our party, who had pleaded 

 illness and had remained behind. Whether the presence 

 of several young ladies, daughters of the owner of the 

 hotel, had a bearing and influence on his case was a 

 question. At any rate we found him astonishingly 

 healthy on our return. The breakfast over we saddled 

 up and loading the pack animals with our traps, forded 

 the river just below camp, and began the long cUmb up 

 the grade to the summit. 



By our early start we escaped the heat of the day later 

 and made good progress, although we had fairly to 

 scramble up places so steep that our horses had to put 

 forth their best efforts and to be halted every few yards 

 to breathe. The others dismounted and led their horsep, 

 but by virtue of my lame feet I was prone to stick to the 

 horse, he being a veteran at this service and strong. We 

 occasionally encountered springs of icy cold water trickl- 

 ing from under some huge rock, and stopped to rest the 

 horses, throwing ourselves on the ground under the 

 shade of the tall pines. Speaking of which I never saw 

 such a magnificent forest of pine timber, trees five and 

 six feet in diameter, as round as if turned in a lathe and 

 running up to a height of 75 to 80 feet without a limb; 

 timber that would fill a timber man's soul with joy. But 

 these denizens of the forest aresafe from the sacrilegious 

 axe. They are inaccessible to human hands, that is, 

 could never be got out to the mill. The whole distance 

 was one grand open park of these giants. There was no 

 undergrowth, and a wagon could be driven in any direc- 

 tion so far as space was concerned, and provided a wagon 

 could ever be got there, which would be impossible. So 

 there is one noble forest that is safe from the ruthless 

 hands of man . 



A couple of hours' climbing brought us to the summit, 

 and here we enjoyed a long rest, and man and beast 

 needed it. Then began the descent, which on this slope 

 was more gradual and easier. Just at 1 o'clock we 

 looked down on the roof of Parson's wigwam, a very 

 comfortable one, certainly, and a shout of welcome 

 greeted us from the invalid, whom we found taking it 

 very easy in a rocking-chair, surrounded by a bevy of 

 young ladies reading and sewing, and apparently enjoy- 

 ing home comforts muchly. 



We found that another expedition awaited us, a trip 

 over another range to another stream 8 or 10 miles dis- 

 tant. The party included a young Catholic prif st, who 

 was said to be a most skillful fisherman. His hatband 

 was decorated with numerous artificial flies, and he was 

 evidently eager for the fray. 



Brown and myself having had our fill, and feeling not 

 over fresh after our morning's ride, declined, so the 

 party left ua to our own devices and dashed off across the 

 bridge, and were soon lost to sight on the opposite slope 

 of the mountain. Our invalid being this time one of the 

 party, it was our turn to occupy the rocking-chair and 

 fall heirs to the ladies for the next two days, at the end 

 of which the party returned with marvelous stories of 

 the number and size of their catch. 



However skeptical we may have been as to their suc- 

 cess, unsupported by the evidence of the padre, we could 

 not of course go back on him, and therefore all was 

 accepted as facts. They probably did have fine success, 

 as the stream they went to is celebrated for being well 

 stocked with fine large fish. 



Ten lazy, dreamy days were dozed away at Strawberry, 

 every moment an enjoyment, every respiration of the 

 delicious mountain atmosphere redolent of the pine 

 woods towering up behind the house, a discouragement 

 to any waiting son of u^l-culapius — no prospective doc- 

 tors' bills for us. 



It is one of the wonders that so few residents of San 

 Francisco go to the mountains. The climate of the city 

 is in the summer chilled by the northwest trade winds 

 that rise at 10 o'clock every morning and blow strongly 

 all day, and are not infrequently accompanied by a raw 

 fog; consequently people go to the country to get warm 

 instead of to get cool, as in the East. 



A few strike out for Lake Tahoe, a beautiful sheet of 

 water 15 miles long and from three to seven miles wide, 

 abounding in lake trout— big ones; but it is not fashionable, 

 hence only a few and sensible people are to be found 

 there. The 400 go to Santa Cruz and Monterey, 75 miles 

 down the coast, where the climate is a few degrees 

 milder. They go there ostensibly to bathe, but do not 

 bathe — very few at least. The water is too cold except 

 for young women with good figures to exhibit; ice water 

 would not exclude those— vanity keeps them warm. The 

 world goes to show its Paris dressee — dance, sit on the 

 piazzas, gossip and flirt. The women have a dreary time 

 all the week, as it is not until Saturday that the men can 

 leave business to run down over Sunday. A few super- 

 annuated old beaus remain through the week, but they are 

 useless material to the summer girl aspiring to an en- 

 gagement or a flirtation. It is a poor matrimonial 

 market, but for the fisherman it has attractions. Trol- 

 ling for salmon and barracouta is tine sport, and the sea- 

 son is just coming in, which fact will cause the subscriber 

 to be heard from early the coming month. 



