244 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



lSept. m, 1892. 



CAMEL HUNTING IN THE ROCKIES. 



When Nimrod announced that for our summer's outing 

 we would go on a camel hunt, fair visions arose in my 

 mind of Osman's Temple, shadowed by the ancient pyra- 

 mids and guarded by the Sphinx, whose inscmtable eyes 

 ever propound the voiceless problems of life; of gaily 

 turbaned Bedouin princes, mounted high on the obedient 

 "ships of the desert," while the eastern star gleamed 

 jewel-lite in the blue enamel of an orient sky. But when 

 he added, "in the Eccky Mountains," I fairly flew for the 

 carcphor, darkened the room, and catching up a Forest 

 AND Stream vigorously fanned my poor Nimfod with its 

 fluttering leaves, sure that too devout worship at the 

 mystic shrine had turned his brain ; when to my fright- 

 ened imagination his eyes assumed a cold glare and he 

 muttered something [about not being idiotic, I earnestly 

 besought him to lie down and let me rub his head, instead 

 of which he pitched the sofa pillow into the opposite cor- 

 ner of the room, and concisely added, "I mean just what 

 I say; on day after to-morrow we will start via the Great 

 Northern Railway for Great Falls, Montana, there to out- 

 fit for White Sulphur Springs and vicinity, where, look- 

 ing backward over the cycle of time, and delving in the 

 dust of centuries, I shall doubtless find the object of my 

 quest," "Great Ctesar's ghost!" I ejaculated, when he 

 paused for breath. '^No, only the possible ghost of a 

 camel," 



The plana of Nimrod are like the laws of the Medes 

 and Persians. So the evening of June 8, 1893, found us 

 in St. Paul aboard the palatial sleeper of the Great 

 Northern, whei'e, surrendering all care to the polite 

 officials, we prepared to enjoy every mile of the ever 

 changing landscape between the Twin Cities and their 

 infant rival, which, comet-like, has risen' in the western 

 sky, with a train of brilliant possibilities following in its 

 wake.- We will give but a passing glance at the vast un- 

 framed pictures of thriving villages, embryo cities, and 

 bonanzajwheat fields of Minnesota and North Dakota; 

 touch lightly upon our arrival at Great Falls, and drag 

 ourselves reluctantly from the wonderfully picturesque 

 scenery of the Missouri River at that point, scenery to 

 which the classic Hudson and far-famed upper Missis- 

 sippi, both in pictures quen ess and grandeur, must yield 

 the palm. There are 500ft. of fall from its beginning 

 at the Black Eagle, whose enormous power has been 

 utilized for the electric plant and huge smelters, there 

 located through a series of five falls, each increasing in 

 height and grandeur until with united volume and 

 power they spring 80ft, in one straight leap over the 

 ragged rock, whose wonderfully colored walls, toned by 

 softest shades of chocolate and brown, tower hundreds of 

 feet upward, confining the rushing, foaming waters of 

 the great cataract by the power of their silent might. 

 Neither must we stop more than to drink from the giant 

 spring welling up from some subterranean channel; no 

 dainty fern-fringed darling, but an angry monster, break- 

 ing resistlessly from its rocky environment with rumble 

 and roar, covering many acres of ground, and furnishing 

 at this point one- eighth of the volume of the Missouri 

 River, iato which it plunges, with a force that sends a 

 trail of foam from shore to shore. 



A week after our arrival in Great Falls found us en 

 route for White Sulphur Springs, lying 100 miles south 

 via Millegan and Fort Logan. Four sure-footed horses 

 drew our covered wagon, compactly loaded with tent, 

 bedding and provisions, good camp stove and cooking 

 utensils, while an abundant supply of firearms and fish- 

 ing tackle proved our faith in the streams and canons to 

 supply our party of four with fish, flesh and fowl. 



0 wing to unforeseen detentions we were late in cross- 

 ing Smith River and reaching Hound Creek, its largest 

 tributary, upon whose banks we proposed to make our 

 first camp. On account of recent spring rains we found 

 the creek much swollen, nevertheless we determined to 

 cross at the nearest point, instead of driving up stream 

 three miles to the regular ford. We were not the first 

 to prove that "the longest way around is the shortest 

 way home," 



The sky, bright and beautiful in the morning, had 

 become overcast and rain fell at intervals. Between us 

 and the opposite shore was an island, with abrupt, 

 deeply-cut banks, covered with a fresh deposit of quick- 

 Band, left by recent floods. Into such a bank we struck 

 and stuck, the left wheel's hub deep and held as in a 

 vise, the others in the water. The struggling horses 

 made ineffectual efforts to gain a footing and extricate 

 us, but the treacherous yielding sand furnished no hold ; 

 one of the wheel horses fell and everything seemed a 

 conf usion-of hoofs and heels. 



We climbed out into the rain, which was now heavily 

 falling; still the horses could not budge the wagon. 

 After repeated eflrorts we were compelled to unhook the 

 team and resort to a Western contrivance called a Span- 

 ish windlass. This was made by fastening one end of 

 the fifth chain to a convenient tree, the other to the 

 wagon tongue, while the neck yoke, held upright in the 

 center of the chain, answered for a pulley, around which 

 the chain was slowly wound by means of a strong pole 

 used as a lever; and by this simple mechanical contriv- 

 ance was accomplished what the united strength of four 

 horses was not able to do, the wagon being successfully 

 drawn on shore, a triumph of mind over matter. The 

 rest of the fords gave no further trouble and we camped 

 in the foothills bordering the stream. 



The following morning we were off by 8 A. M., our 

 way leading over long, imdulating hills, covered with 

 soft green flower-dotted verdure, toward the distant 

 mountains, that seemed to be even further away as we 

 approached them. On and upward we journeyed until 

 we reached the foothill divide, then downward over the 

 long grade to Milliken's. 



The mountains were nearer now, and we felt their cool, 

 balsam- laden breath. Still away, away, over mountain- 

 girt park, where the antelopes in twos and threes sped 

 from danger, then circling back, watched us with shy, fate- 

 ful curiosity in their eyes; coveys of sharp tail grouse 

 whirred on broad wings to safe distances, while every 

 now and then a jack rabbit lead the dog a fruitless 

 chase. 



Nine P. M. found us at Two Creek, where we dicovered 

 that somehow, somewhere, we had lost our tent. 



On a high point of land overlooking Two-Creek Canon, 

 where a clear, cold stream gushes from the earth, forming 



a charming waterfall that tumultuously tumbles over the 

 broken rocks and water- worn boulders into the embrace 

 of Two Creek, a Missourian with an eye to future profit 

 had located a horse ranch and built a one-room cabin and 

 spring house; but evidently his heart's desire had not been 

 fulfilled in this picturesque solitude, for both spring 

 house and cabin had long been deserted — left to badger, 

 ground squirrel and mountain rat. Into this cabin we 

 were compelled by the loss of our tent to enter. 



No one was very— that is to say, overwhelmingly good- 

 natured. I looked into each long face, and remembering 

 that food hath charms to soothe each savage breast, if 

 the savage breast be a hungry man, I set to work 

 preparing them some supper. Then my thoughts were 

 intent on the slumbering bedbug and festive flea, and 

 graybacks that lived tenaciously, and bats that dwell in 

 houses old, and mountain rats so brave and bold, and, 

 worst of all, the house snake gray, that Mdes under the 

 logs the livelong day, silently seeking its prey at night 

 and hiding again before daylight. Fortunately these 

 pests proved creatures of the imagination with the ex- 

 ception of the mountain rats. These resented our intru- 

 sion in a manner peculiarly their own by loud squeaks 

 and sharp raps upon the floor with their long, hairy 

 tails. They are much larger than the house rat, and their 

 size enables them to indulge their penchant for carrying 

 everything in the line of knives, forks and spoons or even 

 tin plates and pans to their holes. 



We remained at the cabin several days, penetrating 

 deeply into the canons, taking an abundant supply of 

 whitefish and grayling from the stream, and finding 

 wonderful petrifactions in the limestone formation. 



We watcned with our field glass across the swollen 

 waters of Smith River the clumsy antics of a she bear 

 and her cubs, and one day had an exciting chase down 

 the canon after a half-grown silver-tip, fruitless owing to 

 the extreme roughness of the country. 



I was not altogether sorry when, on the following 

 Tuesday, we moved away from such close proximity to 

 such dangerous neighbors, and crossing Two Creek com- 

 menced the ascent of Gaddis Hill, the steepest wagon 

 road in Montana, being a straight pull of two miles with- 

 out a foot of down grade. 



In noticeable contrast to these stern, aggressive moun- 

 tains and lofty foothills are the exquisitively beautiful 

 flowers, eighty-four distinct varieties were counted in a 

 ten miles' ride. 



At noon we reached Rock Creek, a wide, brawling 

 mountain stream, fairly alive with trout and grayling. 

 We landed seventy in two hours' time. 



Night found ub in camp on Spring Creek, having passed 

 Fort Logan en route. This post, no longer needed for 

 protection from hostile Indians, is the property of Judge 

 Gaddis, who has set the old parade ground to shade tree?, 

 forming a delightful park, while I have seldom seen a 

 flner vegetable garden than was proudly show by Mrs. 

 Gaddis. 



Our camp now lay equi-distant between Fort Logan 

 andWhite Sulphur Springs. The latter, a beautiful town of 

 700 inhabitants, is charmingly situated on Smith River, 

 encircled by the Castle and the Crazy Mountains, while 

 Mount Edith, belonging to the Big Belts, raises her snow- 

 crowned head 13,000ft. in the near distance. 



Everything about White Sulphur indicates its volcanic 

 origin, and its name is derived from thirteen hot mineral 

 springs that well up from the earth in an area of thirteen 

 acres. The waters possess wonderful curative proper- 

 ties, if the half that is claimed be true, rheumatism and 

 Bright's disease need no longer be feared. The joyously 

 bubbling springs are pleasant to the eye and not unpleas- 

 ant to the taste. 



I can fancy no more delightful summer asylum for the 

 weary brain worker, suffering in ralid or ambitious sports- 

 man than is to be found in this lively Western village, 

 situated 1,000ft. higher than Helena. The Smith River 

 and its tributaries are filled with trout, grayling and 

 whitefish, while ducks and geese, in their season, fairly 

 blacken the waters. In close proximity to the haunts of 

 antelope and black-tail deer, which appear in every 

 balsam-covered mountain glade, to say nothing of blue 

 grouse, which are also plentiful, and everywhere the 

 fawn-colored curlew screams and circles over the open 

 meadows, and just enough of danger is added by the old 

 settlers' stories of bear and mountain lions to spice with 

 caution the excursions into great caves, whose vaulted 

 dome-like interiors are hung with glittering stalactites, 

 that flash back prismatic colors in the torch light; or in 

 making descents into the deep craters of extinct volcanoes 

 lying a short drive from the town. 



No doubt it is a selfish thought to almost dread the time" 

 when this hunter's paradise will be invaded by the rail- 

 way, which has been surveyed and will soon be completed 

 by the Great Northern Railway from Neihart, its nearest 

 point, 35 miles distant, to White Sulphur Springs. 



But to return to the object of our search. To us, the 

 camel hunters, no point could be fraught with deeper 

 interest than our Spring Creek camp, situated in the center 

 of the Tichtoleptus beds of Smith River. In the Tertiary 

 age this wide expanse of country, now dotted by comfort- 

 able ranches, must have been an extensive lake or a series 

 of lakes, whose marginal shores were formed by the Belts, 

 Castle and Crazy Mountains, over which roamed and fed 

 in the semi-tropical climate, under the shade of the palm 

 tree, the great mastodon and rhinoceros, the camel and 

 three-toed horse — the last the prehistoric ancestor of those 

 which at the present day feed upon the self -same hills, 

 and oftentimes in clattering down the canon side unwit- 

 tingly uncover the fossil bones that link them to the dead 

 and silent past. 



The break through the foot-hills cut by the waters 

 which drained the lake into Smith River, furnishes a 

 wild, picturesque bit of scenery; the brilliant lichen- 

 painted rocks are upheaved and set on end, the turbulent 

 waters are still angrily plunging and swirling as if still 

 unsatisfied with their mighty work. 



Through this lake bed, running transversely to the 

 streams, are numerous miniature canons cut in narrow 

 sinuous curves, rising from 20 to 100ft., entirely destitute 

 of vegetation excepting here and there a bunch of cactii: 

 and formed of indurated yellow clay. It was in these 

 clay cuts that Prof. W, B. Scott, of the chair of geology, 

 at Princeton, last season discovered the remains of 

 twenty-three genera, comprising from thirty to forty 

 species of extinct animals, and it was the knowledge of 

 his interesting and successful researches that had 

 awakened in the breast of Nimrod an ardent desire for a 

 camel of his own. 



"Why a camel?" I repeatedly questioned, as we fol- 

 lowed the tortuous windings of the clay cuts, pick in 

 hand, striking here and there the arenaceous lime- stone, 

 or dislodging huge conglomerates of slate; but for my 

 answer came mutterings of Poebrotherium, Protolabiis 

 aud Procamelus. At last just below the brow of an almost 

 inaccessible, declivity, we discovered a fossil bone, pro- 

 truding from the cliff. We fairly flew to work, and un- 

 earthed a bone measuring from the articulation to where 

 it was broken, 42in. in length and 13in. in circumference. 

 Still digging we brought to light an immense head, but 

 so honeycombed and calcined, that it dissolved into im- 

 palpable powder before our disappointed eyes, but one 

 tooth partially agatized proved by its shape and structure 

 to belong to a mastodon. Nimrod listened sadly to my 

 exclamations of delight, and said with mournful voice, 

 "It is not a camel." 



Day by day, in sunshine and shadow, gathering cloud 

 or pelting haU, we labored on, and at length my eye 

 caught a fossil shining like Chinese ivory as it protruded 

 from the yellow clay. Cutting foot room in the canon 

 wall whereon to stand, we carefully commenced to pick 

 it out, and as we excavated, bone after bone appeared. 

 The fossils were many of them broken, but otherwise 

 were in a perfect state of preservation. When the jaw 

 appeared, with teeth intact, Nimrod eagerly seized it, 

 examined it, and gloated over it. The question trembling 

 upon my lips was about to be answered: was it a camel? 



Our search was over; the object of our quest lay before 

 us in an ivory-white heap. Tenderly we wrapped each 

 broken bit in cotton and tissue paper, ready to be cleaned 

 and articulated and conveyed to its destination, a voice- 

 less messenger from the eternal hills, to teach the sons of 

 the desert to bear their burdens well. 



Mrs. J. H. Embry. 



THE WIND. 



To THE sportsman there is a deal of interest connected 

 with the wind. Its force and direction often combine in 

 carrying to a successful issue his well laid plans for an 

 outing, or again in spite of all the prophets the capricious 

 wind will head him off, and if of a bilious temperament 

 he is very apt to remark "Kismet" or something of that 

 sort which seems to fit the occasion. 



" A southerly wind and a cloudy sky 

 Proclaim a hunting morning." 



I am not so sure about ' 'a cloudy sky," but I do know that 

 in October days, when the Avind has been in the southward 

 over night and the young crescent of a moon adds its 

 charm to the twilight, I make it a point on the following 

 morning to be afield after woodcock as soon as the sun 

 has converted the rime into diamonds and set them all 

 a-quiver on the grass and briers. 



Every duck hunter notes with satisfaction the heavy 

 blow, and murmurs a prayer that it may hold for the 

 morrow as he drops off asleep to dream of incomers, 

 doubles, twisters and marvelous kills of all sorts. This 

 nor'wester may bring on the geese I Who knows? 



When after a heavy rain in late autumn there comes a 

 calm, frosty night, how we welcome a breeze ' 'from any- 

 where" that will strip off the leaves in the haunts of the 

 ruffed grouse and allow us a better chance to gauge his 

 lightning-like flight. 



What can I say of a damp east wind, one that is unctu- 

 ous with mist? Or more correctly, as the weather clerk 

 puts it, temperature 40°, himiidity 90 per cent., wind 

 east, velocity sufficient to penetrate clothing and reach 

 the marrow in your bones. What can I say? Well-erl 

 It is not to be resolved into words. 



A pelting rain is falling as I write, and the plink! 

 plunk!— plink! plunk! of the drip from the eaves, as it 

 strikes the iron catch of the shutters, is repeating with 

 monotonous regularly its never-ceasing plaint. 



AVTiat a night this for sleep! I know of no more thor- 

 ough enjoyment than to lie snugly tucked away under 

 the blankets listening to the gale as it surges around the 

 house, now in sharp, sudden gusts, that make the win- 

 dows rattle and strain in their frames, now dying away 

 in the distance, gathering its strength for a fresh assault. 



Sleep comes to me so quietly at such times, and the 

 land of dreams is reached with a mind of such tranquil- 

 lity that as a matter of course only the most pleasing Vis- 

 ions engage its attention. 



Some there are, however, whose feelings are affected 

 in an opposite manner, a heavy storm working upon 

 their nerves until they are really to be pitied. Sleep is 

 out of the question with them, sudden starts, as an un- 

 usually heavy gust roars by betray their agitation, and 

 the poor things have no relief until the storm passes. 



It is interesting to note the effect of the sound of the 

 wind upon different individuals, varying with their tem- 

 peraments and with the seasons. 



The same breeze that refreshes them during the August 

 afternoons will make them uncomfortable as they hear it 

 rustling among the leaves after nightfall. 



That there is a difference in the sound of the wind at 

 different seasons seems to be a fact. 



A full sail breeze will sing through the rigging in early 

 September, in quite a different key from that in which 

 you find it pitched during the latter part of October. 



At the former season there is a full rich undertone, 

 which is wanting later on, when a weird and shriller 

 pulsation, suggesting the minor strains of an ^olian 

 harp, will cause a sense of loneliness to steal over one. 



I have in mind an acquaintance who is peculiarly sen- 

 sitive in this regard. A northwester at this season in- 

 variably brings a "fit of blues" that remains until a 

 change of wind produces a corresponding change in 

 spirits. 



What a keen enjoyment it is to others of us to listen at 

 night, in the dead of winter, to the raging tumult of the 

 northeasters as they drift the snow and obliterate all 

 the paths in their fury. 



The leafless trees are trembling and rattling their 

 limbs as the gale rushes through them. The snow is 

 whirling as the circling gust catches it up, and long 

 wreaths of white flakes stretch across the way, to 

 vanish again in their wisps against the dark background 

 of sky, while over all resounds the continuous roar of 

 the tempest booming past. 



Again, hear the whispers from the pines and hemlocks 

 and the spruce as a gentle air draws through their 

 boughs during the summer months. How suggestive of 

 rest and coolness, what a self-contented feeling it inj- 

 parts to the listener. 

 Hear the game sound on a gray winter evening when 



