AN. 19, 1895.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
45 
actions of one I had noticed last year, and perhaps a 
description may prove interesting. As soon as it 
reached the ground it ran about two feet at right angles 
from me, when, suddenly looking around, it saw me. 
Immediately squatting close to the ground, it curved the 
tail well over its back and held the head with the bill 
pointing to a spot on the ground about three inches 
away. This was undoubtedly a method of concealment, 
for it made a nearly perfect imitation of the dry dak 
leaves that lay scattered about. Suddenly stepping for- 
ward, I had the longed for opportunity of seeing him 
rise from the ground. The bird accomplished this by 
leaping almost perpendicularly into the air, and spread- 
ing its wings immediately after leaving the ground. I 
had to stop him before he went far. 
After a hearty lunch, I amused myself by taking a 
series of photographs of my game. The one given shows 
that, of the woodcock, there was but one young bird, 
Which Seerrts singular, as the season was a very fair one 
for breeding. At half past four, while though tftilly 
looking out of the window, I saw three gunners head- 
ing in the direction of my favorite spot. It lay in the 
Opposite direction from the locality* of my mornitig 
hunt, so feeling sure they were of that class known as 
' 'pot hunters," I seized my gun, hat and a few shells 
and hurried towards the place. My conscience troubled 
me a little until when almost there I passed one of them, 
who was giving vent to a number of stentorian signals 
in order to convey to the others an idea of his position. 
The "spot" is aline of alders and birches which 
separates a cow pasture from a woody swamp, so, know- 
ing that the birds would not go toward the pasture, I 
sent in the dog and walked along the swampy side. The 
line was some two hundred yards long, and on coming 
to the end, I had two more fat woodcock in my pocket 
and another goose egg to my credit on a bird that flew 
iu plain sight for some fifteen feet. How on earth did 
I miss it? I wonder if I am the only one who has asked 
himself that question. I rather think not. 
J. H. Bowlhs. 
A HUNTING TRIP IN NORTHERN 
COLORADO. 
It happened one bright September morning that fivo 
congenial Spirits in Northern Colorado found themselves 
confronted with a week's enforced idleness, and by a 
unanimous verdict it Was decided to spend that week in 
the mountains among the ionely parks and rushing 
Streams that are the home of the elk, deer, bear 4 , moun- 
tain Hon, trout and many varieties of smaller game. 
Th^se, five were known as' Mark, Pete, Smithy, Old Si 
and Frey. 
Mark had been a cowboy in Kansas, and at one time 
drove a stage coach between OanyOn City and Cripple 
Creek. Any one taking this drive at -the present time 
will long remember it. The coach, drawn by six horses, 
leaves Canyon City in the morning and immediately 
traverses a desolate prairie seamed with deep arroyas 
and covered with sage brush and cactus. But when the 
mountains are reached what a change ! The road is 
hewn out of the steep hillside. Above are peaks and 
lofty mesas, below are canyons so deep that cattle at the 
bottom look no larger than rabbits. The rocks are of all 
colors, red granite and sandstone predominating. Occa- 
sionally a huge fragment of red sandstone may be seen 
perched upon a weather beaten column of the same 
material, the whole resembling a gigantic king in a set 
of chessman and reminding one of the mushrooms in 
the Garden of the Gods. 
The road from Florence to Cripple Creek, although 
perhaps not so grand, is much wilder. For miles, it 
winds through deep canyons with almost perpendicular 
sides, in some places so narrow that there is scarcely six 
inches of space each side of the wheels. The new Flor- 
ence and Cripple Creek Railroad follows this canyon, 
and is a splendid example of railway engineering in the 
mountains. When it is completed the gold ores from 
the Cripple Creek mines will be shipped to Florence, 
where suitable smelters will be erected. 
As one continues the ascent toward the great gold 
camp the mountains become less rugged and gradually 
merge from rocky peaks into gigantic soil clad domes, 
from the tops of which the beautiful Saugre de Christo 
range can be barely discerned in the distance, more like 
a phantom than a reality. This name, meaning 'Blood 
of Christ, ' ' was applied by the early Spanish discoverers 
owing to the prevailing color of the rocks. 
For miles around Cripple Creek the mountains are 
literally dotted with prospect holes, ana the loose brown 
soil thrown out from each reminds one of a gigantic 
colony of woodchuck burrows. 
Passing through Arequa, Anaconda and other camps 
Cripple Creek is finally reached. Here all is excitement. 
The town is brilliantly lighted with electricity, and 
numerous gambling halls luxuriously fitted up with 
facilities for playing poker, faro, rouge-et-noir, roulette 
and the Mexican game of craps beguile the lucky pros- 
pector or the hardworking miner into parting with his 
lucre much more rapidly than he made it. 
Cripple Creek is at an altitude of about 9,000 feet 
above the sea level, and anyone wishing to climb 
another thousand feet up to one of the gold mines in the 
vicinity must give himself ample time, for the atmos- 
phere is so rare that breathing becomes very difficult 
after an unusual exertion. 
But to return to the trip. Mark's armament consisted 
of a .44 caliber Winchester and a heavy ten bore shot 
gun, both of which he well knew how to use. 
Pete had been a globe trotter and was at one time a 
trumpeter in the United States Cavalry during Indian 
campaigns in Arizona and Colorado. He had traveled 
in France, Spain, South America, British Columbia and 
all over the United States, and never tired of singing 
the praises of Salt Lake City with its wide, well shaded 
streets and inexhaustible supply of flowing well water. 
It may sound strange to a resident of the well watered 
Eastern countries to dwell upon a supply of pure well 
water, but when it is remembered that all the towns 
and mining camps use long distances from snow fed 
mountain streams the advantages of such a supply will 
bo appreciated. A remarkable similarity exists between 
the topography of the Salt Lake Valley and the Valley 
of the Jordan, Palestine. Let the reader compare a 
good map of each of the two countries, and nearlv every 
lake, river, mountain 'range and peak in one will be 
found to have its counterpart in the other 
Pete carried an "old reliable," and about whose 
accuracy and killing properties we were constantly 
reminded. 
Smithy was the largest, strongest, best natured and 
sleepiest man in the party. It was a half hour's job 
every morning to get him out of bed, but once up he 
worked as hard as any one. Smithy was armed with an 
antiquated Sharp's .45-70, with which he could not first 
hit a deer at 50 yards, but he improved greatly with 
practice. His favorite weapon Was Mark's shot gun, 
with which he was constantly trying "double raises" on 
groiise or magpies. 
Old Si was the youngest of the party, and was so 
nicknamed on account of trying to palm himself off as 
a youth of 19. He rode a little gray mare which per- 
sisted in shying at every black stump and large bowider 
she saw, but a couple of days' work soon quieted her 
down to business. Si was the authority on fishing 
matters, and was armed With a Winchester .38-40, with 
which he could barely hit a 12-inch circle at 20 yards. 
He improved wonderfully before the end of the trip and 
did some good shooting. 
Frey was a tenderfoot from New York State, and 
had only been in the Western country six months. He 
was a regular crank on shooting matters, and carried a 
Marlin Safety .SS-.55.and a Colt's .38 caliber six shooter 
with both of which he had won several matches in local 
contests. As he had never seen big game, there was 
considerable speculation as to his probable success. 
The blankets, cooking utensils and provisions are 
packed k). a light wagon and sprawling on top of the 
load are Mark, Pete, Smithy and Frey, while Old Si 
brings up in the rear on his old chai'ger. 
It is late in the afternoon before the start is made, and 
we stop for supper beside a cool rill of water. We have 
brought enough bread for the first two meals ; after that 
has gone We will have to cook flapjacks and bake biscuits 
in a Dutch oven. 
This is simply a shallow iron pot with a tight fitting 
cover and is indespensible in a camping outfit. It is 
placed upon a bed of coals and embers are piled upon the 
cover; thus the bread is thoroughly baked on both sides. 
After supper we start up a canyon toward the high 
mesas. A rabbit runs across the road in front of the 
wagon. "I'll get it," says Old Si. but he doesn't. 
' ' Watch me hit him in the head, ' ' says Mark, but his 
rifle is sighted too high and he overshoots bunny, who 
concludes to take his departure for more salubrious 
climes. The road uow becomes steeper and the boys 
walk to lighten the load. The sun has set and the moon 
is in the first quarter, making everything visible, yet 
indistinct. Graceful, white-stemmed quaking asp, 
resembling the silver poplar of the East, grow on each 
side of the road and in the moonlight the trunks have 
the appearance of silver. 
After a delightful climb the boys reach the mesa and 
wait for the wagon, which overtakes them in about half 
an hour. In this high altitude there is frost or ice 
nearly every night, even in summer, and the rainfall is 
sufficient to ensure a luxuriant growth of grass. All 
round us are groves of quaking asp and pine, which 
undoubtedly shelter deer and perhaps elk. It is 11 
o'clock, but still we push on, for we cannot camp with- 
out water. Finally we notice a deep depression, and 
following this down we discover a spring almost ice 
cold, so we light a fire, boil some coffee and are soon 
asleep, with the sky for a canopy. 
At daybreak next morning Mark and Frey start on a 
hunt for grouse. Mark finds one, and tries to shoot its 
head off with his rifle, but just as he pulls the grouse 
jumps and the bullet catches it in the back without in- 
juring the flesh. Frev follows a deer trail and is soon 
in thick- foliage, where the light is very dim. Stepping 
slowly and carefully so as not to break a twig he sud- 
denly beheld a shadowy pair of antlers rise over a knoll 
in front. Instantly the rifle is raised to his shoulder, 
but the buck sees the motion and turns to flee. Bang ! 
and down he comes, shot through the heart. To say 
that Frey is proud is feebly expressing it. He has killed 
the first wild deer he ever saw at the first shot. Hastily 
bleeding his prize he blazes a trail to the clearing and 
starts back to camp for a pack horse. Mark and Si 
return with him, and soon the deer is in camp and a 
nice slice of venison and a fat grouse are cooking over 
the camp fire. After breakfast Frey rides Old Si's 
charger and acts as advance guard to warn the others of 
the proximity of game. Soon he sees a jack rabbit, and 
riding back tells the others. Old Si is the first on the 
spot, but is not quick enough, for Brer Rabbit lights out 
just as Si pulls and the bullet only kicks up a cloud of 
dust behind him. 
In the afternoon we commence a long descent to a 
splendid river, and at noon stop at r its edge for dinner. 
Smithy and Si rig up their tackle and catch a few fine 
trout, while Mark and Pete cook dinner. Pete makes 
the slapjacks, and they are indeed a substantial job. 
There is no attempt at deception — they are full weight, 
every one and are guaranteed to stay in a person'.* 
stomach twenty-four hours without going to piecea. 
Smithy suggests that we save some for sinkers, and Si 
ties his horse to one to prevent its straying away. Frey 
grumbles at the coffee and tries to improve it by a 
double dose of condensed milk, but this only makes it 
worse He finally discovers that the coffee is all right 
and that the trouble lies with the milk, which he after- 
wards lets severely alone. 
We are soon in motion again and follow a well made 
road up the river. In a clump of bushes a flock of mag- 
pies are squalling, and Frey jumps off to shoot one, for 
the fancies the wings will be pretty for his sweetheart 
to trim her hat with. Taking a careful aim he tries to 
knock the head off one, but the bullet just grazes the 
wing, cutting nearly "all the feathers off, so that the 
bird cannot fly. As magpies can be taught to talk, and 
make nice pets, Frey catches this one and ties it with a 
rag and a string around its leg. It soon becomes quite 
tame, and eats meat from his hand, but the rag wears 
off, and Miss Mag escapes. 
That night we bivouac beside the river, and have a 
splendid meal of venison, trout, potatoes, onions and 
coffee, not to mention the slapjacks. 
We have scarcely finished supper when a fine doe 
comes bounding along within fiftyjyards of our camp, 
but we have sworn not to shoot a doe, so she is allowed 
to go unmolested. 
Next morning we make an early start, and about 4 
o'clock in the afternoon we reach our destination. We 
have scarcely jumped off the wagon when Mark and 
Smithy catch sight of an animal which they mistake for 
a squirrel. Instantly the Winchester and shotgun com- 
mence a serenade, and after running about twenty yards 
the squirrel drops. Upon examination he proves^ to be 
a woodchuck or ground hog, not very common in this 
locality. A bullet from, the rifle has shattered one fore 
leg near the shoulder, and the stricken animal is now 
endeavoring to amputate the useless limb. A shot in 
the head soon puts him out of his misery. We camp in 
a beautiful spot with water and wood handy, and plenty 
of good pasture for the horses. The river is close by, 
and from it we can catch a magnificent string of 
trout. Early next morning Mark. Frey and Old Si 
start for one of the nnest haunts of the deer in America. 
It is a beautiful park, with lofty hills clothed with 
quaking asp and pine rising on each side. Deer are all 
around us, feeding among the trees on each side of our 
trail, and as Si has never shot a deer he goes ahead with 
' ' Old Ebenezer, ' ' which he has borrowed from Pete. 
His motions started the deer, and they leisurely trot 
away in every direction. We wait for some time, but 
bear no shot. Suddenly he returns pale and breathless. 
The gun won't go off Wing to defective ammunition, 
so he borrows Frey's Marlin, and soon four shots ring 
out, but nothing drops. Si has got the buck fever badly, 
and is doing some very wild shooting. Soon he gets 
another chance, and this time drops his deer with a 
neat shot in the head. 
Mark makes a wide detour and comes upon a beauti- 
ful mountain lake, deep and tranquil with the tall pines 
on the mountain side mirrored Tin its depths. All 
around are stumps of trees which have been felled \" 
beaver; and there, far across the^ lake, are two elk. 
Mark cautiously moves out of sightTand makes his way 
to a point from which he can obtain a good shot, but 
the elk disappear and all attempts to find them fail. 
Since he cannot get elk Mark concludes to try a shot at 
deer, and soon has an opportunity at a big buck, which 
comes bounding past. Bang — miss — bang — he 'shit, but 
too far back. Bang — miss again. Bang — and over he 
rolls, sflot through the heart. After much difficulty we 
pack the 'two deer so that they will"" stay on the horse 
and commence our return journey to camp. The trail 
widens down a deep canyon, over boulders and fallen 
trees and through streams,- and before we get to the 
worst part the sun"goes down and we are left in dark- 
ness. We manage r to r keep' r j the trail, however, and arrive 
safely in camp. 
Next morning 'Pete and Smithy start for elk. They 
follow the trail that the boys took the day before, and 
leave their horses in a grove of quaking asp, taking 
the precaution to light a fire so that the smoke will 
enable them to locate the spot from the mountain where 
they propose to hunt. Up they climb into the hoavy 
timber. Deer are almost constantly within range, but 
they are after nobler game. For two hours they climb 
the mountain side, carefully hunting through every 
promising clump of timber, but although the full round 
tracks of the game they are'seeking are plentiful their 
makers are not visible. Discouraged they retrace their 
steps toward their' horses, and just before reaching them 
are startled by a splendid bull elk not twenty yards 
away. The two Sharps ring out almost as'one ; the bull 
staggers, but keeps on his pins. He is hard hit,- and the 
boys havelittle^difficulty in keeping within sight of 
him. He soon grows weakf rom loss of blood, and Pete 
ends his sufferings by a shoulderTshot. After dressing 
the carcase it is carefully covered with leaves and left, 
to be called for next morning, for it is too large to pack 
on one horse, and "the boys are too tired to walk and 
pack both horses. Next morning they return with a 
spare animal and two pack 'saddles, the meat is loaded 
on two of the horses, and the*boys take turns riding the 
third. 
Toward evening Frey takes a stroll up the hillside to 
see what he can find He has scarcely gone a quarter 
of a mile when he beholds above hinfa triangular head 
with two round ears peering over a log. It is a silver 
tip bear, a species much larger than his black cousin, 
and nearly as fierce as the cinnamon. Frey draws a 
careful bead on the snout and lets drive. With a bound 
the bear springs from behind the log 'and starts down 
hill for the hunter, who"* hastily^ fires r two more shots, 
drops his gun and starts for the nearest tree. Of course, 
it is very foolish to 'run away from a wounded bear (in 
print), but in real " life somehow it does not seem so 
ridiculous. A bear may have a dozen heavy bullets 
through his vital parts, any one of which will prove 
fatal, - and yet live long enough to kill his assailants. 
When a bear receives a wound, he generally starts to run 
in the direction he happens to be heading when the 
wound was inflicted, and if the hunter happens to be 
in that direction l a he 1 had ^better remember the old 
rhyme . 
'HeTwho fights and runs awav 
Wiiriive to' fight another day, 
and act accordingly 
After making a 100-yard record f or^himself , Frey 'ven- 
tures to look around, and to his relief finds that the bear 
is not in pursuit. Drawing his six shooter he cautiously 
retraces his steps, and recovers his rifle. Not twenty 
yards away is the bear* dead. The" first shot had struck 
him in the mouth, ''coming out at the back of the head 
and causing almost instantaneous death. His first con- 
vulsive jump had started him down the hillside, and he 
had continued rolling until stopped by a boulder. Frey 
had actually run away from a dead bear, but in his 
delight at having slain'a near relative of" ' Old Ephraim' ' 
he does not think of that. The pelt is removed with 
great care, and two of the boys, having come' to see 
what the shooting was' about, help him carry "in his 
trophy, which he fondly dreams will some day form a 
rug for a dainty pair of feet to rest'upon. 
We have now as much meat'as we can carry home 
and decide to break camp next morning, so are up bright 
and early, and the second day arrive'at 'home with our 
meat in perfect condition. We dry the greater portion 
of it, and for many a day it serves to remind us of 1 our 
trip in the wilds of northern'Colorado. — " 
QotjObado, Bdw. F. Bail, 
