376 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 3, 1894. 
he ^patimjmi ^onvist 
A WEEK IN MONTANA MOUNTAINS. 
It was a perfect morning. There had been a light 
shower at daybreak, just enough "to lay" the dust, but 
all was clear again when the sun peeped over the Old 
Jumbo Mountain and glistened through the branches of 
the Canadian poplars, the earliest rays seeking out here 
and there a raindrop still clinging to an upturned leaf, 
gifting it betimes with the varied tints of the "blended 
heaven's bow" or perchance catching it unawares as it 
described a swift descent from the momentary resting 
place whence it had been disturbed by the gentle ripples 
of a newborn breeze, bestowing on it for a fleeting second 
the wealth of a flashing diamond, ere its identity passed 
for aye as it kissed the absorbant lips of a thirsting Mother 
Earth. 
As the sun shone clear of the mountain, Charlie and I 
loaded our camping outfit into the light dray, and answer- 
ing my wife's last "When will you be back?" (asked for 
about the twentieth time), "Oh, in about a week," 
whistled lor Ponto and were off to the station. A quarter 
of an hour later we had the luggage with Ponto chained 
on top on the rear platform of the caboose of the Coeur 
D'Alene "mixed" train. This was during the panicky 
times of '93, and on that train were between forty and 
fifty others like ourselves, bound "anywhere, anywhere 
out of the world." 
"Which way?" asked one. 
"Off at Lothrop and up Pattee Creek," answered Charlie. 
"Pattee Creek? No use going there." 
"What's the reason?" 
"Fished to death and no birds." 
"Who says this?" 
"Just came from there myself, and I know." 
"Were you up to the meadows? " 
"No, only about half-way, but there's no sport up 
there. I'm going with the gang to the St. Regis, and 
you had better join us." 
"Well, Will," said Charlie, turning to me, "what do 
you think? " 
"Don't know. Whatever you say, goes." 
"All right then; we've started for Pattee Creek and 
we'll stick to first principles." 
At Lothrop, thirty miles from Missoula, we alighted 
from the train and in a few minutes had secured the ser- 
vices of Perry Corn, who lives a hundred yards from the 
station, to take us to the meadows, eight miles distant. 
Corn had to go out several miles for his horses, and we 
were obliged to wait until afternoon. This we did with 
a rather poor grace, being anxious to get into camp, but 
as we did not appreciate the idea of an eight mile tramp 
with a couple of hundred pounds of baggage each, 
strapped to our backs, we waited. By one o'clock we 
were on our way in a rickety lumber wagon, over, into, 
through or along (I'm at a loss for a comprehensive 
expression) one of the roughest and toughest mountain 
roads ever cut in a rough mountain eountry. However, 
to the sportsman the inequalities of the road, the logs and 
stumps, the roots and ruts, the steep pitches and the chuck- 
holes, the overhanging branches above, the assorted 
sized boulders beneath and other trifling peculiarities 
in a great measure pass unheeded, as he gazes in ecstacy 
on either side at the walls terraced with rocky cliffs and 
points which are inter-grown with a scattering wild pro- 
fusion of pine, fir, tamarack trees, and bush and vine of 
varieties bevond enumerate. 
Here and there the road crosses or approaches the 
sparkling stream which swiftly flows along the canon's 
bed, and forms at every turn a pool or riffle toward which 
he glances with feverish impatience, knowing well by his 
sportsman's intuition that these are the lurking places of 
those whose unsuspecting part perforce is lent to en- 
hance the zest experienced by successful lovers of the rod 
and reel. 
Four miles we kept to the wagon, then the horses were 
unhitched and the camp duffle packed on their backs over 
the trail which led to the meadows. Charlie took the 
lead with gun under arm. I followed with my rifle and 
leading one packed horse, and Corn brought up the rear 
with the other. 
Shortly after leaving the wagon Ponto started a covey 
of ruffed grouse, and Charlie soon had all seven snugly 
tucked away in his hunting coat pockets. (Had there 
been more in the covey there would probably have been 
more in the pockets.) 
When we had covered about half the remaining dis- 
tance, we discovered fresh deer signs, and with my char- 
acteristic self-denial I graciously allowed Charlie to lead 
the horse the rest of the way, and to guide him along the 
sinuous trail in a manner to insure his not becoming un- 
timely and unceremoniously disconnected with his belong- 
ings as he dodged in and out of each half-hitch that 
occurred here and yonder in the path, also the pleasure of 
now and then designating to him the softest spots from 
which to pick himself up after stumbling over some un- 
usually conspicuous stump, log or quartz ledge. 
These and kindred pleasures I must forego and worry 
along ahead with a weather eye cocked and primed for 
sight of the buck who had evidently determined to inten 
tionally and with malice aforethought ignore a one-sided 
appointment, and had hurried away to keep a methink 
more congenial one on some neighboring mountain top. 
The meadows were reached in good season, and a loca- 
tion for our camp was just fixed upon when Charlie and 
Corn came up with the horses. 
"It was real nice of you to keep ahead and out of sight, 
so that I might enjoy the exceptional privilege of playing 
engineer, fireman, conductor, brakeman and switchman 
all at the same time." (Charlie has an idea that he is 
somewhat learned in railroad lore.) "Be assured, I'll not 
forget your extreme kindness; it will be my only earnest 
desire to return it at the earliest opportunity, and with 
interest. I — " 
"Don't mention it, Charlie; don't mention it. I am 
perfectly satisfied that you fully appreciate the interest I 
have displayed in your behalf, and now if you will unpack 
the horses, set up the tent, make the beds, cut up a nice 
pile of wood, build a fire, put the potatoes on to boil, 
likewise the coffee, fry two or three of those grouse, and 
as we are supplied with baker's bread, I will endeavor to 
assist with the getting of the rest of the supper, and we 
will be all O. K. in a jiffy." 
"Will, eh? Pleasant programme you have figured out, 
I don't think. And now, Mr. Man, if you don't get in and 
do a little hustling on your own account, there'll be a first- 
class funeral in the camp in short order." 
"Well, Charlie, I am deeply wounded at your raising 
objections to a so skillfully arranged order of business, but 
having no particular heartfelt desire to attend your im- 
mediate obsequies, I suppose my disappointment will have 
to be choked down, and " 
An hour after we had the tent pitched and the camp in 
shape for rain or shine. 
The meadows are in reality not meadows, but the whole 
is a grassy valley some four or five miles in length, and 
whose surroundings are very different from those of the 
canon below. The mountains, instead of being steep and 
rocky, slope back gently; the sides facing the south ai-e 
grassy and more or less open, the north sides are heavily 
timbered, making an ideal range for deer, though in mid- 
summer these animals are for the most part higher up 
in the mountains and scattered. At the approach of win- 
ter, when game of all kinds is driven by the first snows 
from the high ranges, this is a veritable deer hunter's 
paradise. 
Supper over Corn returned home, Charlie put his fish- 
ing tackle in order, started for the creek, and I with the 
rifle ventured out on a little exploring trip, it being new 
country to both of us. We walked until dark, saw an elk 
track and some deer sign, also found where a deer had 
been killed a few days earlier, but no live game was seen. 
Returned to camp and found Charlie with twenty trout 
ready for the frying-pan, which he had caught in a half 
hour's fishing. 
We were out with the sun in the morning, and away 
with shotgun and rifle ready for business. Our camp was 
on a small branch of the main creek, and this branch 
came down out of a long canon or gulch. Up this gulch 
we went some three miles without seeing hair or feather. 
Charlie complained of a severe headache, and turned 
back, taking Ponto with him. I concluded to leave the 
gulch and go a little way up the mountain, on the side 
facing the sun. While the mountain was steep, the 
climbing was quite easy, and being in good trim, it was 
not long till I found myself on top of a high ridge, sitting 
in a huckleberry patch and enjoying a few handfuls of 
the berries. Having gained this ridge I was now in hopes 
of jumping a buck, and while resting in the berry patch 
was on the alert for any indications of game. Ten 
minutes thus, and when about renewing the hunt, I heard 
something like the foot-fall of an animal; but after a few 
moments' quiet watching and no developments, concluded 
it a false alarm and moved a few steps along the 
ridge, when of a sudden just beyond a rise I saw a 
patch of brown fur disappearing behind some little 
tamarack trees. Springing forward several paces the 
.40 82 came up with a thump as a bear running lull speed 
appeared long enough for my finger to touch the trigger, 
then it was again lost to sight in a large body of these 
little tamaracks that covered the north side of the moun- 
tain. At the sound of the shot a cub ran up a large pine 
about 30yds. ahead. It was up perhaps 15ft. when seeing 
its enemy it "let go all holds" and dropped to the ground 
like a flying squirrel. It ran out through an open, but 
owing to the unevenness of the ground I could not see it 
till it was nearly 75yds. away, when for a second the 
ivory bead stood out in relief before a little brown object 
and the rifle trigger was pressed again. At the report I 
could imagine some one giving the lash to a six months 
old pup from the racket raised by the yelpings of one 
little bear cub. Making sure that mater familias would 
be back in defense of the youngster, and thinking a fight 
was at hand, I hastily slipped half a dozen cartridges into 
the Winchester's magazine. That done the yelping had 
ceased, and no old bear had returned. Stepping along 
cautiously I soon came upon the cub so dead that it 
had apparently never kicked after the ball struck 
home. 
But here was a mystery. What had done all the yelp- 
ing and what had become of the old one? I had not 
particularly lost any bear in the thicket, and went at the 
further hunt with considerable caution; but after a time, 
finding no more signs of bear, waxed exceedingly brave 
and tramped up, down and around until tired, all to no 
purpose, nothing more was found. The mystery re- 
mained uncleared. There were two solutions to the 
problem. If there was only one cub it had done the 
yelping with its final efforts; my first shot gave the old 
bear her death wound, and she was down the mountains 
into the brush, where to trace her without a dog was out 
of the question; otherwise she would have returned to the 
call of the cub. If there were two cubs, one which I did 
not see set up its cries at the sound of the second shot and 
brought the old one to it, they together making off with- 
out my getting sight of them. The latter theory is the 
more likely correct, as the cries seemed as if the little 
fellows were running here and there through the thicket. 
At length, concluding that further search was useless, 
the 401bs. cub was lifted to my shoulder and we followed 
around the ridge which led to camp by a four-mile route. 
At first the weight of the cub was but a trifle, but before 
camp was sighted it was on both shoulders, around my 
neck, and in fact seemed to be about all over me. This 
was real pleasant; it was in August, with not a cloud in 
the sky. Over the last quarter of a mile to camp the 
cinnamon cub had assumed the proportions of a full- 
grown grizzly, and weighed 976lbs. by my Water bury 
watch and buck skin chain. 
"If I couldn't kill a bigger bear than that, I wouldn't 
kill any," was Charlie's gentle greeting as my load was 
wearily deposited at his feet. I sought to wither him 
with a fierce glare of contempt, but instead had to do the 
withering act myself, and tumbled into the tent, from 
which I crawled some time later in response to Charlie's 
welcome "Get up; supper is ready." When the hunting 
appetite was satisfied and the frame somewhat refreshed 
in consequence I ventured to take a look at my grizzly; 
and lo and behold! it was only the little cinnamon cub 
again. 
The next morning we took another course, came in at 
noon with eight ruffed grouse (all of the one covey found) 
in the capacious depths of Charlie's ever irresistible hunt- 
ing coat pockets. 
Without waiting to prepare dinner we proceeded to a 
trial of our fortune at angling down along the main 
creek, in order to while away a little time until Charlie's 
brother Tom and our mutual friend Nick, who were 
booked to join us that day, should put in an appearance. 
We had landed something like a dozen trout each when a 
halloo was head, and by that same token dinner was in 
I 
short meter ready for four, and the four were on hand 
with no uncertain appetites to enjoy it. 
By 3 o'clock the quartette could have been seen dis- 
tributing themselves along the stream preparatory to the 
evening's fishing which followed, and such fishing as it 
was. The Pattee Creek trout are not large, running from 
6 to lOin. in length, but are free and gamy, and the evening 
was spent pleasantly, for we had some 200 by supper 
time, after which they were packed away in wet grass 
under an overhanging bank by the creek, where they 
would keep cool and fresh; and right willing were we 
then to "hide ourselves away among the welcome robes 
and blankets. 
The boys had heard the bear story, and in the morning • 
all were eager to hazard a trip to the huckleberry patch. 
None of them were in good form for heavy tramping, 
especially under an August sun, and when about half- 
way up the ridge down which I had brought the cub, 
were ready to turn back, and it was only by dint of much 
urging, and insisting that each next point would be the 
last, that at length near noon we were all eating huckle- 
berries to our content, but our ursine friends were evi- 
dently dining in some other patch. After satisfying our- 
selves with some quantities of this delicious fruit the boys 
turned campward, but still aching for a shot at a buck 
took the opposite course, tramped over some fine appear- 
ing game country, scared up a few deer tracks, flushed 
several coveys of blue grouse, killed one (one grouse, not 
one covey) and reached camp at 4 o'clock. 
Six o'clock, a supper cooked by Nick and fit for the 
gods, and the rifle was again in dematiu. "Where do you 
think you ar - e going now?" from Tom. 
"Just up the creek a mile or two " 
"Don't you ever know when you are tired?" 
"Yes, but somehow I feel it in my boms that there is 
venison waiting for us up there." 
"If that's the case," put in Nick, "I guess I'll go too." 
It was nearly dusk, while we were sauntering along 
the foot of a mountain, upon the side of which we were 
watching, when came from Nick a startled "Look there!" 
"Look where?" Intuitively that exclamation was inter- 
preted, and while executing an "about face" the Win- 
chester was brought to play on an animal that came from 
a jump to a full stop at that moment, and a streak of 
flame shot through the settling gloom in its direction all 
at the same time. The shot was fired so quickly that we 
feared the deer had been overshot as it sped away through 
the thick timber and tall grass. Another cartridge was 
ready for action in an instant, and another bullet was on 
the trail of a glimpse caught of the deer. We ran over 
through the grass, and there lay the largest fawn either 
of us had ever seen with the "spots on;" so large, indeed, 
that neither of us had suspected its being anything but a 
full-grown deer until we reached the spot where it had 
fallen from the effect of the first shot driven square 
through the heart. (Whole lot of good luck about that 
shot.) 
While covering the two miles back to camp we were to 
take turn3 at carrying the little buck. Half way a small 
stream crossed our path, across which some one had 
fallen a small pine cut from an 8in. stump, from which 
tree the limbs had been but doubtfully trimmed, leaving 
the small knotty log anything but a sure footbridge. As 
we came to this I was in the lead with the deer on my 
shoulder; had taken perhaps the second step out on to the 
small end of the tree, when, partially losing my balance, 
in order to regain it I swung the deer around in front, but 
did not seem to have entirely recovered the proper equili- 
brium, for after two or three more steps I struck a shoe 
against a knot and away we went. As we tumbled off on 
the upper side I loosed the deer and grabbed at the tree, 
but somehow loosing the deer seemed to have given me a 
sort of rebounding motion, and instead of catching the 
tree I fell across it and before I could stop myself turned 
a full somersault over it, and brought up with a splash 
in the creek four feet below just as the deer came floating 
by. I caught a leg and floundered with the buck to the 
bank. 
And Nick — by the time the impromptu bather had "got 
out of the wet" he had gone stark mad, had dropped the 
guns (both his and mine) and had followed them into the 
grass, where he was rollmg and twisting about and hold- 
ing his sides with both hands. He laughed and he shouted, 
he got up and howled, he lay down, rolled some more, 
and laugned till the tears came in his eyes, all the while 
going through maneuvres that would have given pointers 
to a professional contortionist, but somehow the funny 
part of the thing did not seem to strike me as forcibly as 
it did him, at any rate my risibility was not aroused to 
any great extent just at that time. It is possible that I 
did not see the joke. At any rate — 
"You blank lunatic! Do you intend to make a monkey 
and parrot out of yourself all night?" I yelled. 
"If you cou — could have see — seen yourself — " 
Then he went mad again, and — so was I. "Of all the 
blank fools, you are the blankety blankest. D' ye suppose 
I've gone blind?" And I gathered the venison, and wet 
and shivery strode away through the bright moonlight 
for camp. 
Nick followed, but kept a respectful distance behind 
and ha-ha- d all the way. 
When the boys had well and sufficiently admired the 
spotted buck, and my clothes and skin were drying by 
the always cheerful camp-fire, Nick humorously described 
the gyrations over and under the log, and as the fire's 
genial warmth had somewhat of a thawing effect on my 
marrow bones 1 was forced to join in the merriment at 
my expense; and in truth as I think of it to-day, if some 
one could have secured a kodak snap shot of the perform- 
ance, the which might be herewith presented to the 
readers of Forest and Stream, it is my candid belief that 
that "Hough in a heap" would be "snowed under" so to 
speak. 
A person might wonder the why and the wherefore of 
the chilliness of a night in August, especirlly as the heat 
of the day has been referred to. Remember, we were 
well up in the mountains and it is a positive fact that at 
sunrise on the morning following the occasion of the 
above incident there was a skim of ice on the water left 
over night in our camp kettle. 
Next day the boys all wanted more venison, and we 
sallied forth on a heavy campaign with a view of obtain- 
ing some. After a short time I became separated from 
the others and returned with an empty bag. 
The boys, however, jumped a deer and two fawns, which 
Nick got a shot at just as they were going around a point, 
and missed, and then took another shot at Ponto, who had. 
