Auo. 39, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
167 
Gents and Okey, tliese are the names of the horses with 
which our party started. Of these six were saddle horses 
and the remainder were pack horses to carry provisions 
and camp outfit. Our guides were William Wells and 
John Groff. Charley Lea went as superintendent of the 
coffee-pot and biscuit oven. We had three dogs, Hector 
and Ajax, who were trained in lion and bear hunting 
and in tracking wounded deer and elk, and Brigham, a 
young hound, who, though he had little experience in 
hunting, bad a good nose, as will hereafter appear. We 
also took a bear trap, as we thought we might have use 
for it. I rode Tommy, my father rode Cream, and Mr. 
C. rode Baldy. We followed Marvine Creek to White 
River and went up the river one mile to Lost Creek. 
We then went up Lost Creek, and crossing Lost 
Park camped on the West William's Fork of 
the Bear River at about 3 P. M., making a dis- 
tance of sixteen miles. On the way up I saw a 
good-sized buck at the edge of some timber, but before 
I could get ready to shoot he had turned, and with a few 
bounds disappeared. We had also seen two or three does, 
and as Wells said we were camped in a very good deer 
country we decided to take a short hunt with him 
before sundown, while the deer were out feeding in the 
open parks. It took some time to get the horses un- 
packed, and it was 4:30 before we got started on our hunt. 
We rode across the little knoll on which we were camped 
and down through a deep ravine with steep banks up to 
the next ridge. Just as we were nearing the top a doe 
jumped up out of the weeds and Ajax, the younger dog, 
made after her. The dogs are taught to follow no deer 
trail but a bloody one, so Wells promptly stopped him 
with a shot from his sling-shot, which he carries to punish 
pack horses that get out of the trail. This struck me aa a 
practical and useful application of the sling-shot. 
On reaching the top of the hill we came out into a large 
park, and to my great excitement we saw a big buck feed- 
ing about 100yds. away on one side. But he saw us as soon 
as we saw him, and before any of us could get a shot he 
ran around behind a clump of trees and disappeared. 
Wells then led the way in the direction in which the buck 
had gone, and we started up a grouse. After riding about 
200yds. further along the edge of the hill. Wells, who was 
in advance, saw the buck down the hillside to our left, 
and motioned to me to come on with him, and to Mr. C. 
and my father to stay back. After trotting forward 
under cover of some timber about 100yds., we quickly 
dismounted and stole forward on foot. After going 
25yd8. or so Wells touched my shoulder and pointed to 
the end of the park where this big buck and two smaller 
ones were coming out of the edge of the timber across 
the park. I shot at the big buck just as they were enter- 
ing a clump of timber, and as he was going fast I shot 
behind him. At the shot they all stopped, and he offered 
me a beautiful broadside shot at about 135yds. I missed 
that shot and then another. I suppose I was rattled, and 
probably my using my heavy .40-82 Winchester, with 
which I had so far shot very little, instead of my .38-40 
Marlin, with which I had practiced a great deal in the 
past and was a fairly good shot, helped me to miss him. 
The two largest bucks by this time thought they had 
acted as targets about long enough, so they bounded off 
into the woods; but the smallest one, a yearling or spike 
buck, stood there and let me have another shot. I didn't 
care much whether I hit him or not, now that I had lost 
the big ones, so I suppose my nerve came back, and I 
killed him at the first shot, the ball passing through the 
base of his neck, breaking the bone. While Wells was 
cleaning him, and Mr. C. and my father were scouting 
around, looking for the big bucks, another good-sized 
buck ran across the park in front of us and stopped on 
the opposite side. I could see nothing but his head and 
horns, and shot where I thought his body ought to be, but 
did not hit him, the ball going high. I mention this to 
show how plentiful the deer were. We packed the dead 
deer on Wells's saddle horse and returned to camp. On 
the way back, in the ravine of which I spoke, two cow 
elk passed us at full speed, but we, of course, did not 
shoot, as the same rule applies to them as to does. 
Next day, after breakfasting on deer liver and other 
camp delicacies, we started for our permanent camp on 
Beaver Creek, reaching there early in the afternoon, 
lunching on the way on Pagoda Creek, where we got our 
first view of Pagoda Peak, so named by Hayden, because 
its top resembles that of a Chinese pagoda. Its summit is 
11,577ft. above sea level. 
On reaching camp Mr. C. and I decided to try to get a 
mess of trout for supper out of Beaver Creek, while my 
father took his gun and sauntered off into the woods near 
by in the hope of getting a shot at a buck. The guides 
stayed in camp to fix up things generally. The trout did 
not bite. We were fiBhing with flies only and it was 
probably too late in the season at so high an altitude. 
On my way home I heard my father calling to Wells, 
who was picketing the horses, and saw Wells ride into the 
woods. They soon after appeared in camp with a fine 
spike buck hung over Speckles's saddle, shot by my father, 
thus assuring us of plenty of meat at the outset— a very 
necessary consideration in camp where you are largely 
dependent on your gun for food. To have venison good 
it must be hung up several days after killing before being 
eaten. Fresh-killed venison or elk meat is apt to make 
you sick. I suffered from eating it last year when hunt- 
ing in Wyoming. 
The next day— Sept. 5 — was a memorable one for me. 
We stayed in camp all morning helping the guides to 
gather spruce branches for our beds, make a camp table, 
and "fix up" generally around camp. In the afternoon 
Johnny and I and my father started in one direction, and 
Wells and Mr. C. in another, to look out for bear signs 
and locate a good place to set our bear trap, and also to 
try to kill a big buck. 
Mr, C, nearly got his deer. He creased a large buck 
and knocked it down. It fell over a log and lay with its 
feet up, but before they could reach it it recovered and 
got off. If a deer, elk or bear is hit, or rather grazed 
with a bullet on the top of the neck, the shock stuns him 
for an instant, so that he rolls over as if dead, but in 
thirty or forty seconds he recovers his senses and strength. 
This is called creasing. Mr. C. wounded another deer, 
but it also got away, though followed by the dogs some 
distance. 
My father, Johnny and I rode two or three miles with- 
out seeing any bucks. Then we began to get into the 
buck country. After catching glimpses of two very big 
ones, we decided to get off our horses and stiU-hunt afoot. 
After going about a mile, Johnny suggested we go on 
alone, while he went back to bring up the horses, ap- 
pointing a rendezvous with us in a bunch of quaking asp 
trees in the distance. We got there without seeing any- 
thing but several does and fawns, and were sitting on a 
log waiting for Johnny, when I saw a small buck. Just 
aa I was showing him to my father, two great big bucks 
and one small one appeared near him, running toward 
the thick spruce timber. We each took a snap shot at 
about 150yds. as they were disappearing in the woods, 
but without effect. Soon after this Johnny came along 
with the horses, and we mounted and rode up to the top 
of the ridge and along it for a mile or more. We had 
seen nothing on this ridge except a solitary doe, when all 
at once a good-sized buck got up about SOOyds. off in the 
fallen timber. I jumped off my horse and shot. The 
ball knocked up the dust in striking, so as to show it 
passed about 3in. above his back. The shooting started 
another buck. My father then jumped off his horse, and 
we both shot at once as this buck stopped on the top of 
the hill. We miscalculated the distance and over-shot. 
The shooting turned him and he came down by us, jump- 
ing beautifully over the fallen logs, and ran down hill 
toward the vaUey, By this time I had the range of my 
rifle, and when he stopped at a point fully 350yds, away 
I took a good steady aim and pulled the trigger. There 
was a stiff breeze blowing, and as the smoke blew away 
I saw him plunge forward and tumble all in a heap 
against a big log. Maybe I wasn't happy 1 We had seen 
when he ran by us that he was an extraordinarily large 
buck with very fine antlers. I was afraid that I might 
have only creased him, so I ran on down ahead, leaving 
my father and Johnny to bring up the horses. I scrambled 
over logs and through bushes until I was about where I 
thought he had fallen, but Johnny still motioned to me 
to go on. When I had gone lOOyds. further I stopped 
again on a fallen tree, and there I saw him, not 20ft. 
away, lying stone dead against a log. He measured 6ft. 
3in. from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail and 48in. 
around his chest, and the fat on his rump was If in. thick. 
My first thought was to count the points on his antlers. 
I found he had twenty-four, twelve on each side, an ex- 
traordinarily fine head. It was all that three of us could 
do after he had been cleaned to lift him on Kitchen Dick's 
back, and Dick had a very heavy load to carry home. 
J ohnny walked and led him all the way, watching care- 
fully that the precious antlers were not broken by catch- 
ing on trees. 
The next morning after breakfast we skinned his head 
and cut away the flesh from his skull so that the head 
should keep until it reached the hands of the taxidermist. 
This took until almost noon. We then, after getting a 
bite to eat, saddled our horses and started on an elk hunt, 
my father and I and Johnny going together again. We 
hunted all day without getting anything. My father 
rnissed a large buck soon after we started, and I cut a 
piece off the horn of another during the afternoon from 
about 150yds. 
We stopped for lunch in the thick pine timber, and soon 
afterward found something that greatly pleased and ex- 
cited us — the track of an enormous grizzly bear in a deer 
trail which we were following at the time. We could see 
it was the track of a grizzly bear, both from its large size 
and from the impression made by its claws, which in a 
grizzly grow much longer than in a black bear. We fol- 
lowed his tracks through the woods for some distance, but 
did not run across him. Thence the deer trail led through 
a beautiful meadowy park. Near the middle of this 
park were several large trees, and as we neared 
these we saw two blue grouse sitting on a log 
between the trees. I jumped off my horse and 
began to throw stones at them, not wishing to 
shoot, for fear of alarming the larger game. No sooner 
did they fly than two more appeared in their places, and 
then others, until I had driven away eight from the same 
spot. I was a little out of practice, so the grouse all took 
their base on balls and escaped. 
[to be concluded.] 
IN THE SANDHILLS. 
Omaha, Nebraska. — The season of the year which 
awakens the ardor of the sportsman, even as spring is 
wont to revive the rhythmical flow of fancy in the poet, 
had conie and I was forced to surrender to a great long- 
ing for the companionship of my dog and gun and the 
unpolluted air of the boundless prairie; so, with three 
congenial spirits, I determined to explore a portion of 
our State, of which, up to that time, I had been in com- 
plete ignorance. True, the Sandhills were words familiar 
enough to all of us, but there had been nothing in them 
suggestive of the rod and gun, nor of the numberless 
lakes teeming with waterfowl; but nevertheless rumor 
had it that the latter did exist, and we concluded to 
gratify our curiosity at any rate, and find as wild a 
country within the confines of our own State as possible, 
A complete camp outfit was gotten together, and a ride 
of 400 niiles by rail brought us to Gordon, a point from 
which we planned to continue our way by team. At 
Gordon we were apparently equally anxious to get away 
from human habitations, and it was but a short time be- 
fore we had secured the services of a guide, loaded our 
outfit into a wagon behind a stout pair of bronchos and 
were leaving the little burg behind us. 
For about fifteen miles we drove over rolling prairie, 
with nothing more interesting to watch than the thou- 
sands of bunches of tumble weed, which, as they went 
rolling along in the distance before a stiff breeze, forcibly 
reminded us of the enormous herds of buffalo that roamed 
the prairie but a few years ago. Reaching the edge of 
the Sandhills, our road for the remainder of the way lay 
among veritable mountains of sand, into which the 
wheels of our heavily loaded wagon sunk nearly to the 
hubs. Not a spear of grass was to be seen, or a tree or 
a hush, but only drifting hills of sand, with spots of alkali 
here and there like scattered ash heaps. It was certainly 
wonderful how any one could discover anything in the 
nature of a trail through these hills, especially with the 
sand beating into one's eyes like the driven particles of 
ice in a Western blizzard, and still more wonderful how 
there could be lakes in such an apparently moisture-for- 
saken territory. 
However, as the day drew to its close, and we reached 
the top of a particularly high roll of land, there stretched 
out before us a sight wnich was greeted by a cheer that 
startled from their resting places numerous flocks of 
ducks, and sent them hurrying across the water to a 
point where eould be seen a number of emerald-like spots 
nestling among the hills, indicating that we had found 
water to our hearts' content. We watched the feathered 
forms grow dusky and then disappear in the distance, 
then started down a gentle declivity to the nearest lake. 
What a refreshing sight that was, after our long and 
dusty drivel Below us Round Lake; to our left, and 
where the sun's last rays were just bidding farewell to 
the dancing waves, and causing them to sparkle and 
then grow dark, like the smile of a maiden at the parting 
kiss of her true love and the following shade of sadness 
at the thought of separation, rested the Twins, only sep- 
arated by a narrow strip of land, and lying there side by 
side no one knowa,^or how many years, but perhaps su- 
premely happy even in the midst of this desert of sand, 
with one another for company. Away to the north could 
be seen Big Alkali, and tucked away in an adjoining val- 
ley Clear Lake, and to the right of this Horseshoe. Big 
Alkali is perhaps two miles long and a mile wide, and 
Horseshoe about three miles from one point of the shoe 
to the other, and the smaller lakes from one-half to three- 
quarters of a mile across. There is apparently no inlet 
or outlet to any of them, and the water is so strong of 
alkali that none but the lower animals can drink it with- 
out decidedly injurious effect, and we were consequently 
compelled to haul all of the water for camp use from the 
nearest ranch, a distance of about four miles. 
The first game was brought to bag while we were on 
our way to a sheltered spot on the north shore of Round 
Lake, when with a startling whir of wings a grouse burst 
from the shelter of a bunch of grass close by, and before 
he could get out of range a charge of caught him and 
he made a very acceptable addition to our evening meal. 
Early next morning we started on an investigating 
tour of the lakes to find a point for our camp where we 
would be as near as possible to the center of the shooting. 
We drove past Twin Lakes and around Big Alkali with- 
out finding a spot that exactly suited us. Wo finally 
came upon a small pond which sets back into the hills at 
the south end of Horseshoe, when a jack rabbit darted 
across the road, and one of the boys, hungry for a shot at 
something, let drive at him. The jack's long legs were 
evidently taking him over the groimd faster than it 
seemed, for the shot only caused a puff of dust to rise at 
his heels and his speed to be increased, but at the report 
of the gun hundreds of ducks arose from out the rushes 
of the pond with a roar of wings that made our blood 
tingle. There were more birds here by far than we had 
seen anywhere, and it seemed an ideal place for water 
fowl, with its long stretches of rushes and clear patches 
of water; so, without firing another shot, we turned and 
made with all possible haste for camp, and before the 
haze of returning night had fallen upon us we had our 
tent pitched and "all the comforts of home" ready at 
hand. 
As soon as we had our camp in shape we lost no time 
in getting into our mackintoshes and selecting likely 
stands for the evening shooting. Even before we were 
able to reach places where we would have a reasonable 
chance of finding the birds after they were knocked down 
the shooting began on all sides. I took two or three shots 
that were too tempting to resist, but finding that I was 
surrounded by altogether too heavy cover to have any 
success picking up dead birds I let my gun remain empty 
and made my way out into the pond to the edge of an 
open place, where I stood in the water nearly to my arm- 
pits, and only shot at those birds that came over the open 
water. The shooting for a few moments was perfect, as 
the ducks came to my stand much faster than I could 
take care of them, but it was soon too dark to shoot with 
any degree of accuracy, and after dropping two or three 
birds in the rushes instead of the open water I stopped 
shooting, made the rounds of the open, picked up all the 
ducks I could find and worked my way to the shore. I 
was soon joined by my comrades, each with a nice bag of 
ducks and in glorious spirits, more at the prospect before 
us of some of the finest shooting any of us had ever had 
than on account of the result of our first shoot. We pro- 
ceeded back to camp and shortly had a fine pair of mal- 
lards roasting and everything in shape for solid comfort. 
After we had stuffed ourselves with roast duck, and pipes 
had been smoked and a few of the brilliant shots of the 
evening dwelt upon, we turned in, preparatory to an 
early start the next day. 
The sky was cloudless the next morning, and the quiet 
breeze from the south was more suggestive of June than 
of October, and it was far from an ideal day for duck 
shooting. However, it depends on one's characteristics 
as to what constitutes a satisfactory day's shooting. 
With some it is necessary that a great many more birds 
be bagged than with others, but with the true sportsman 
it is only necessary that he should have plenty of oppor- 
tunity to exercise his knowledge of the habits of the game 
and the methods of getting within range under unfavor- 
able circumstances, and we therefore tried to be content 
with the prospect of a small bag of ducks and consoled 
ourselves that in so doing we were "true sportsmen," 
The ducks all went out of the lake at the first shot that 
was fired, and although we waited several hours there 
was no sign of their return. 
In the aiternoon we drove over to Horseshoe and found 
that lake fairly alive with ducks, but out in the open 
water, where it was impossible to get within range. Dur- 
ing our wanderings about this lake we discovered what 
appeared to be a perfect feeding place for mallards, not 
over a quarter of a mile north of Horseshoe, and the 
ground between this slough and the lake was from that 
time to the end of our stay our most successful shooting 
point. ' 
About the middle of the afternoon we noticed a flock 
of mallards leave the lake and take a straight course 
north to this slough, and soon after another flock and then 
another. Without losing any time we ensconced ourselves 
in the tall patches of weeds between the two points, and 
the shooting we had for the next two or three hours was 
such that none of us wUl be likely to forget in some years. 
"There's a beautiful bunch of mallards coming right to- 
ward us, and flying low," I hear my friend exclaim in an 
excited whisper from the patch of tall grass to the right 
of me a short distance, and almost immediately two puffs 
of smoke issued from his cover and two sharp reports rang 
out, and a feathered form dropped almost into his blind and 
another took a gradually lowering course in my direction, 
and just as I was glancing along the barrels of my gun at 
him plunged downward into the grass. The rest of the flock, 
after a few feet of rapid climbing up into the air at the 
first shot, sheered off to me enough to present a perfect 
shot, and at the double report of my gun two more hand- 
