Max 9, 1896.] 
palisades, so close that they seemed to grow out of it, was 
the river, here looking green from the shadow, but the 
water as clear as crystal and as cold as ice. There were 
at every few hundred feet huge boulders and masses of 
detached rock formed pools which proved ideal loafing 
places for the trout, which we knew from experience 
were there. 
"The right wall of the canon was neither so high nor so 
perpendicular, but down its sides every few hundred yards 
came tumbling and falling tiny mountain brooks, some of 
them piercing the solid rock in their descent and then re- 
appearing. One I recall that had dug for itself a well, 
and then disappeared. The canon ends as a box canon, 
as if nature had marked this private park of hers 'No 
thoroughfare.' " 
On the right there is a mountain called "Van Dyke's 
Causeway," nearer the perpendicular than anything I 
ever attempted to ascend — except an elevator. This 
mountain, we were told, we had to go up in order to get 
out of the canon, and "Van said: "Boys, when you get 
half-way up stop and look back, and it'll make your hair 
curl." I remained behiud, in order to photograph the 
outfit when half-way up. They started in all right, but 
before they were one-third the way I could see them, one 
and all, getting a firm hold on the tails of their horses. 
Thought I, if those fellows are compelled to do that in 
order to ascend, with nothing to carry but themselves, 
what will it be for me, with camera, rifle, etc.? I watcbed 
them until they reached the top and disappeared. Then, 
packing up my kit, I Btarted on the ascent, Before I had 
gotten half the distance I realized what was before me. 
How I wished a horse's tail to hang on to, or anything 
that would lift or pull, I would have to stop on an aver- 
age of every 25ft. to get my wind. When two-thirds the 
way had been climbed I heard a stream of water pouring 
down the mountain side, and on making a sharp turn 
came in sight of it. How refreshing: and cool and invit- 
ing it looked I I made an extra effort to reach it, and 
when I did it was to drink my fill. I don't think water, 
ever tasted so good before. I rested here for fully fifteen 
minutes, and took my last look at Clark's Fork Canon, 
Oa reaching the top I found Ben waiting for me. 
Bookie, my broncho, was getting impatient, as the outfit 
had gone on to find a suitable place to camp before dark- 
ness set in. Then began a ride such as I never had 
before. Carrying camera and plates was no easy task 
astride of Bookie that afternoon. He was in a terrific 
hurry to "catch up." When he finally got quieted down 
a little I began to take observations, and all along this 
trail one could have picked up a carload of elk horns 
and some sheep horns. Here we sighted our first elk. 
Pop and Van tried to stalk him, but Pop had to fall out, 
as he couldn't keep Van's pace. Van soon came within 
shooting distance, but as the head was not a fine one he 
would not kill the game; the meat, of course, at that time 
was not good, and it was a written law among us to kill 
nothing we could not use. 
As it was getting late and the pack train restless and 
tired, we made camp. The weather looked threatening, 
so we pitched our tent. Snow fell during the night and 
until about 10 o'clock .Saturday morning. Hunted a 
little, but signs of game were few. Remained in camp 
uutil Sunday A. M., when we broke and started on. A 
most singular thing about the snows in this country — the 
mountains north, east and south are covered with snow, 
while those lying in a belt west by south are perfectly 
bare, no snow having fallen on tbem. 
The wind was blowing a gale. At 1 o'clock we 
began the descent of another mountain, not quite so 
steep as the one we had gone up a few days before. 
When we reached the creek at the foot of this moun- 
tain, we followed the worst piece of trail we have yet en- 
countered. The heavy rains and wind some weeks 
before had made windfalls and washouts that seemed al- 
most insurmountable. In crossing one bad place I looked 
back, and Doc was doing a horizontal bar act on an over- 
hanging limb, having been caught under the chin, and to 
save himself "caught on." 
A little further on a huge pine had fallen across the 
trail and we had to jump it. All cleared it nicely but 
Ben, and when his horse jumped Ben began to climb the 
pummel of his saddle. He declares that had it not have 
had three stories to it he would have had to move out. 
About 2:30 we came out into one of the most beautiful 
valleys 1 have ever seen. Fenced in by nature with 
mountains almost perpendicular, east and west, with a 
stream of pure mountain water clear as crystal flowing 
through it, the spot was most picturesque and lovely. 
Here could be made one of the finest natural game pre- 
serves in the world, and with but little labor and expense. 
The creek could be stopped easily. It is positively a 
dream of a place. Already some one has realized the 
same thing, as it has been settled upon, but the tenant had 
perhaps become tired of solitude and gone into civiliza- 
tion for the winter. The cabin stands empty and the po- 
tato crop remains undug. Wishing to see what the soil 
would produce, we dismounted and dug a few potatoes. 
They wpre as large and beautiful as I had ever seen in 
any market. It is so quiet here, with not a sound save 
the rushing waters of the creek, that I have called it 
Peaceful Valley. Looking back from here the mountains 
are white with snow, yet not a flake is to be seen here. 
At this point we cross the creek, following the trail 
west by southwest, and pass many cattle grazing. Here 
and there we find a pond or, as they call them here, 
lakes. From the grass in one of them jumped two mal- 
lards, making noise enough for a bunch of twenty. How 
I did wish for my 12 guage! I feel quite sure we would 
have had roast duck for dinner, and I assure you we 
wanted fresh meat badly. The country passed through 
after leaving the creek was not much broken. Van tells 
me these lakes in the spring are full of water and that 
ducks and geese by the million congregate here for a 
short sojourn on their way north. Of course it goes 
without saying that here they are never disturbed. The 
pot-hunter has not yet arrived, but he will come all in 
good time. 
Should the railroads enter this country, as they un- 
doubtedly will, then good by to all the quiet undisturbed 
haunts as they exist now, Speaking ol railroads enter- 
ing this country reminds me that, from observations 
taken thus far, it seems to me that the most feasible 
route the Northern Pacific road can take from Red Lodge 
into Cooke City is up the Clark's Fork Canon. It is much 
the better and cheaper route, according to excellent au- 
thority. There is also another route much easier than at- 
tempting the Park Route; of this I shall write you later on. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
About 4 o'clock we again crossed the creek and begin 
the ascent. On our right is what appears to be a walled 
inclosure to some great park. The rocks, so perfectly 
formed in stratified layers or blocks, appear like some 
master work of huge masonry. 
Traveling on now due west, scene after scene of beauty, 
like some ever-changing panorama, greet the eye. No 
matter how tired and hungry we are, there is ever some- 
thing new and beautiful to attract our attention, and for 
the time both hunger and fatigue are forgotten. 
"I live Dot in myself, I become 
Portion of that around me; and to me 
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum 
Of human cities torture." 
At 5 o'clock we camp in the foothills in sight of old 
Bear Tooth Mountain, whose summit capped with snow 
glistens like polished silver. We are fast approaching the 
very heart of this delightful country — delightful alike to 
the sportsman, the invalid, the pleasure-seeker, the geol- 
ogist, the botanist and the naturalist. There are many 
rare finds here for the geologist and mineralogist. Pop is 
not feeling well to-night, has a touch of the "rheuma- 
tiz," so Doc has brought forth several bottles of sugar 
pills and a canteen of witch hazel; and while he feeds the 
patient on pills I rub his knee with the liquid, and he 
likes it so well that we have trouble to break away. After 
bandaging the joint with red flannel we put him in his 
sleeping bag, buckle him in, and in ten minutes you 
would think a tugboat was laboring to get up stream. 
Monday dawned bright and beautiful; broke camp 
about 9 o'clock; jumped half a dozen blacktail deer just 
after starting from camp. Moving on, we follow the 
creek for several miles; saw plenty of elk, deer, sheep 
and bear sign. I was much amused on this trail. There 
was a mountain I will call the Sphinx, which seemed to 
travel as rapidly as we did, I would exclaim to Doc, 
"Now we have passed by it," when a slight turn in the 
trail would so place us that the blamed thing was ahead 
of us again. Honestly, Sammy, I thought we would 
never get away from that pile of rock ; however, a sharp 
turn in the trail took us away from it for a time. 
Camped at 5:30 on the creek. Here Pop had more pills 
and another bath, with massage treatment. Got an early 
start Tuesday, as we have a long, hard climb. We are 
now fast approaching the Rocky Mountain Divide, and 
which we will cross about 2 o'clock, 13,000ft. high! 
Sammy, think of it, and wind up here on the divide is 
blowing a howling gale. 
What a mighty scene this is! What a creation! and 
how infinitely small and insignificant is man. The day 
is perfect, and from here one can see Pilot Peak, Index 
Peak, Tower Mountain, Republic Divide, Sheep Moun- 
tains, Grand Mountains, Mount Jones, Fremont's Peak, 
highest in Wyoming, situated on the divide between 
Wind and Green rivers, whose waters empty into the 
Missouri and Colorado rivers; Baar Tooth, highest in Mon- 
tana, in the Saw Tooth Range; Dead- Injun, Haystack, 
and away down in Idaho looms up the Saw Tooth Range. 
We stood here and felt as though our bodies were entirely 
too small to allow the lungs to take in all the air we 
wanted. We simply breathed on in silent admiration. 
Words could not be formed that would express all we de- 
sired to say. As we were getting chilled through we 
moved on and camped in the canon or basin over the 
divide. 
We are now in the game country. Will tell you all 
about it in my next. Wabash. 
BIG RIFLES FOR BIG GAME. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
There is only one side to this question of cannon vs. 
pop-gun. Give me the cannon every time. I want a 
weapon that will get there with approximate adjacency. 
I want a weapon that will persuade the animal to pause 
and reflect. A man who would select a .44-40 rifle as a 
proper prescription for an adult moose or caribou ought 
not to be allowed to run at large in the woods. He is 
irresponsible and should be impounded. 
It is perfectly feasible for a good marksman to bag his 
game at 300yds. and even 400, if the conditions of weath- 
er, time and place are right, and he has the right kind of 
gun. I am only a plain f armer of a shooting turn of mind, 
and I wear rock maple pants that have a tendency to cling 
to my neck, and I live in a land where the flint-lock 
blooms and blossoms in perennial youth; but I should, in 
my humble way, feel a large degree of ante-mortem grief 
for the unrepentant moose who showed up in front of my 
.45 85 Martini within that range. But in the case of Cecil 
Clay and his ,4i-40 I should not squander any sorrow on 
the moose. Any tears I had to sued would be shed for 
Capt. Clay. 
Mr. Irland, of Washington, is a rattling good rifle shot, 
who can disseminate more sudden death in leaden form 
per minute than any one I know of. He is not driven to 
the use of artillery for any personal reasons. He is also 
a man of humane feelings, who has escaped the great 
American national malady of swelled head of which some 
of us are victims, and he knows precisely what he is talk- 
ing about with regard to the effect of various doses of 
powder and lead upon the structure of moose and caribou. 
Mr. Irland had a race with a bull moose down here a spell 
ago for the unpaced flying-start mile record. Mr. Irland 
was geared to .45-85, but he concluded that the moose was 
geared up to .45-120, so he has changed his gear to that 
figure. He also had an argument with a buck caribou 
which, after receiving four applications of .45 85-325 at a 
range of 50yds., still stood up and disputed the rignt of 
way. Mr. Irland. as usual, had the best of the argument, 
but the caribou gave the audience a wonderful object les- 
son in animal vitality. 
I wonder if any of our callow friends who shout for the 
.44-40 ever take into consideration the element of wind to 
which Mr. Irland refers. There is almost always, even 
when not apparent to the shooter, some motion to the air, 
and the bullet drifts to leeward during its flight just as 
fast as the wind does. The longer the bullet takes to reach 
the mark the more it will stray from the straight and 
narrow road that leads to the bullseye. In the mildest 
of summer zephyrs the .44-40 bullet, besides dropping 
several feet in going 200yds., will be "wafted" out of its 
course about 1ft., and in a stiff September breeze 3 ft. 
would not be an excessive estimate. Perhaps Cecil Ciay 
shot his running moose in a gale of wind and thus the 
bullet drifted to leeward at the same rate as the moose. 
It is a mistake to suppose that these knitting needle 
378 
guns with smokeless powder will not shoot straight. It 
is true the weapon with the unpronounceable name 
adopted by the American military authorities has proved to 
be a failure when tested on the range, but that is not the 
case with the Lebel rifle, nor the Lee-Metford, used by the 
French and English armies. In England last year a bat- 
talion team of eight men shooting at Queen's ranges (200, 
500 and 600yds.) averaged 96 points, which is ahead of any 
previous record made with an open-sighted military arm. 
No one would recommend a .30-cal. rifle, no matter what 
its accuracy and penetration, for killing big game. A dog 
was shotin this town the other day with two of these bul- 
lets, and the next night after that he was able to resume 
business at the same old stand and howl at the moon in 
the same old saddening way. 
That a great many game animals are missed and maimed 
every year owing to bad marksmanship cannot be denied. 
The average city sport is a very indifferent shot, and his 
so-called guide would miss the Rooky Mountains if he 
didn't have a tree to lean his gun against. The man who 
has learned by careful and conscientious practice on the 
range how to handle a rifle will discount the Indian or the 
bushman every time. He will assume the easiest avail- 
able position; he will judge the distance with reasonable 
certainty; he will allow for windage if the wind is blow- 
ing across the bullet's path; he will vary the elevation ac- 
cording to the light; he will hold his rifle plumb and cold; 
brain and pye and hand will work in unison; he will not 
flinch at the anticipated recoil; he will aim straight and 
keep aiming until the hammer falls. He may be a trifle 
slow, but he is going to place that bullet very close to toe 
right spot. Some years of observation on the range and 
in the woods have convinced me that genuine skill with 
the rifle is a certificate of intelligence. No man with hay- 
seed in his whiskers ever won the Queen's prize, or ever 
will. It ib usually a certificate of manhood as well, for 
the mastery of the rifle calls for patience, pluck and 
purpose. 
Isn't it queer how few of the world's great literary lights, 
of past and present times, know anything of marksman- 
ship. Scott thinks it perfectly feasible that an archer 
should be able to "notch the shaft" of his rival at 100 
paces in a shooting contest. Cooper sees no difficulty in 
a man with a flint-lock musket puncturing two potatoes 
thrown in the air with a single bullet, or shooting eagles 
on the wing. Even our own Conan Doyle describes the 
bowmen of the White Company as dropping storks and 
hawks on the wing at near 100 paces, and as shooting a 
string of arrows in quick succession in the air, which 
pierce a stump, one aiter the other, upon their return to 
earth. No margin is ever allowed by these worthy an- 
nalists for luck or chance or condition of weather. The 
mighty marksmen of the olden days never missed the 
mark ; never needed a sighting shot as we poor moderns 
do with our new-fangled weapons; never required more 
than a single shot to display their utmost prowess; never 
had to contend against any "bull luck" on the part of 
their rivals; never had any bad ammunition. The shoot- 
ing they did, whether with arquebuse or arbalest, long- 
bow or cross-bow, blunderbuss or brickbat, was infinitely 
superior to any that is ever done m these degenerate days 
of nitros and knitting needles. Now, if these bright and 
shining lights of the literary world (the live ones I mean) 
would only subscribe for Forest and Stream, they might 
learn something about shooting. They would certainly 
learn something about literature. Frank H. Risteen. 
Feederioton, N. B., April 37. 
New York Constables as Game Protectors.' 
President Frank J. Amsden, of the New York State 
Association, has sent out the following letter to the peace 
officers of his county, and he advises us that copies will 
be mailed to all sheriffs and constables whose addresses 
may be given him by fish and game clubs and others: 
Mi} Bear Sir: 
As president of the State Association for the Protection 
of Fish and Game, I take the liberty of calling your at- 
tention to Section 31 of the Game Laws, which is as fol- 
lows: 
"Section 31. Powers of sheriffs, constables and deputy 
sheriffs. Peace officers shall have the same powers as are 
conferred upon game protectors and foresters for the en- 
forcement of the provisions of this chapter." 
You will observe that you have the same power in the 
enforcement of the game laws as game protectors, and 
your expense and time in destroying illegal devices is a 
county charge, and your fees as an officer in making an 
arrest and serving subpoenas, etc., are a town charge, 
whether a conviction is had or not. I should be glad to 
explain any matter which you may not understand, and 
furnish you with a copy of the Game Law and give you 
any information that you may desire, if you will kindly, 
call at tbe office or write to me. 
Trusting that you as a public officer, charged with the 
enforcement of the law, will interest yourself in the en- 
forcement of the Game Law, I am very respectfully yours, 
Frank J. Amsden, President. 
Adirondack Deer. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
In your iBsue of May 2 your correspondent under title 
of "Adirondack Deer" attempts to be funny. I say at- 
tempts, for he does not seem to succeed. 
When you have no argument against t'other fellow try 
ridicule — but don't be ridiculous yourself. Mr. S. quotes 
from my article, "Meaning by comparatively few that no 
greater percentage of the living supply than that supply 
will allow without permanent decrease," and comments: 
"In other words, he admits that jacking alone would keep 
the supply down without the aiu of other kinds of deer 
killers." He "admits" nothing of the kind, and the 
imagination muBt be badly distorted to see any such 
meaning. Then Mr. S. proceeds to quote from and com- 
ment upon events that occurred between thirty- five and 
forty years ago, when deer were plenty and hunters few. 
No, in those days you couldn't kill a deer with a brass 
band. If Mr. S. gets one on this trip he will feel satisfied 
that it can be done now. "Will somebody please ex- 
plain?" Explain what? 
Why the lawmakers should expect to save the deer by 
making more stringent laws instead of trying to enforce 
even to a small degree the ones they have had. Well, I 
can't. That's even harder than killing deer with a brass 
band. Jack Hunter, 
