Jan, 30, 1897.] 
F'OREST AND STREAM. 
83 
ing women was pleasing and full of melody. All about 
us, as we stood there viewing this savage procession, 
were the men, the women and the children from the 
camp. Some of them saoff, others chatted excitedly, 
while others still stood silent, impressed by the pageant 
and glorying in it. 
Asleep in the arms of a sturdy Indian at my side lay a 
tow-headed baby two or. three years old, as fair as any 
white child leading an outdoor life would have been. 
After the procession had passed I touched the Indian's 
shoulder and questioned him by signs, asking him if the 
baby was Psd ra ha, to which in reply he signed yes. As 
he turned to go the child awakened, yawned and 
stretched itself, and when it looked at me its eyes were as 
china blue as of the blondest baby in America. It was 
hard to believe that the infant had a drop of Indian blood 
in it veins, and I wondered if it might not be a captive or 
a stolen white child. 
The procession passed on and the throng of onlookers 
duly trailed away in its wake, as, in the city, street boys 
follow close upon the heels of marching soldiers. We too 
were turning to go, but as I paused to light my pipe I 
glanced up toward the hills again and saw that something 
else was coming. Down the narrow trough of the valley 
walked a shock-headed Indian boy clad only in a shirt, 
leading a mule, and on the mule's back was a bundle 
done up in a green blanket. Not far behind the mule 
rode a man and woman and a well-grown boy. This was 
the body of Long Horse, the Crow chief, who had been 
killed in the battle and was now being brought back to 
the camp that he had ruled; and those following him 
were his father, his mother and his brother. Very 
melancholy were the songs of mourning which floated to 
U3 through the clear air, at first in disjointed quavers, but 
later, as the group drew nearer, in the connected form of 
a mourning chant. 
We turned and walked down the valley toward the 
post not far from them, and as the mule with its burden 
passed the trading post the old man and his wife drew 
up and dismounted by the side of a wagon standing there. 
E ich drew out a butcher knife, and the old man, resting the 
forpfinger of his left hand on the pole of the wagon j 
chopped off the finger, and then remounting rode away. 
The old woman hacked off two fingers from her left hand, 
and then drew the knife three or four times across her head 
from crown to forehead,gaahing it deeply so, that the blood 
followed the knife and streamed down over her coun- 
tenance. 
"There, you see," said Charleyi as we watched the pair 
tide away, "these people are truly sorry for their friends 
who die." 
It was an hour later, and we were still lounging at the 
store talking to Reed and Kelly, when the young brother 
who had been following Long Horse's body strode into 
the store, and, resting his left forefinger on the counter, 
chopped it off with his butcher knife and then went away. 
Sj now in the Crow camp there was mourning for 
their loss, tempering the joy that came to them through 
the defeat and death of their enemies; and there were 
no public rejoicings over their victory until Long Horse 
had been buried. 
The next morning early Charley and I got into the 
saddles and continued our journey, and we saw no more 
of these Crows. Later we heard from Yellowstone Kelly 
that Ling Horse had been buried near the post in a lodge, 
that before it many horses had been killed for him to ride 
in the land of the shadows, and that over the fireplace 
in the burial lodge hung the scalp of one of the Sioux 
taken on that eventful day. Geo. Bird Grinnell. 
TREASURE HUNTING. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I see that the columns of your paper are being taken up 
with treasure-hunting stories, and as I have been one of 
the hunters I can contribute my mite to the general fund. 
All the fools are not dead, and until that dismal day ar- 
rives treasure hunting will be followed. 
Something like a year ago a half-breed Indian woman 
opened up an alleged silver mine some miles north of the- 
city. She had some trouble with her title, which called 
in the services of myself and another illustrious attorney 
whom we will call the Judge, That resulted in our learn- 
ing the history of the treasure. According to her story, 
she was the daughter of Chief Mcintosh, who sold the 
tribal lands of the Creeks in Georgia to the United States 
Government. Mcintosh was half a white man, and being 
a thrifty individual thought it a pity that so much good 
stuff should be wasted on redskins, and immediately de- 
parted for the territory, taking his family and, in a mo- 
ment of forgetfulness, the treasure with him. But for 
some reason the Indians objected to the proceeding, and 
following him up eliminated him, but not till he had 
buried the treasure, consisting of 113 kegs of gold coin. 
She and Harry McGee, her cousin, were the sole surviv- 
ing heirs of Mcintosh, and held the secret. She had a 
map showing the location of the treasure at the junction 
of two creeks, the landmarks being a mountain, four 
white oaks, two walnuts and two Indian mounds. It was 
only eighteen mUes away, so we concluded we would in- 
vestigate. 
At the appointed time she came with another woman 
we will call the Widow, and two of her miners, H. and M. 
The Judge and I made up the rest of the party. A trip 
of half a day over the worst of hill roads brought us to 
the promised land, only to find the place cultivated in a 
crop of cotton which had been lately gathered. A little 
negotiation with the owner, a thrifty Dutchman, arranged 
the question of search and board for the party, and then 
began the search, Harry McGee was to have met us 
there, but was conspicuous by his absence then and at all 
times, and I have never been satisfied of his existence at 
all. 
The map was very accurate and showed Mamelle and 
Nowlin creeks. Pinnacle Mountain and all the other land- 
marks; but the trees were gone and the mounds had been 
plowed to the level. After long search we found traces 
of two stumps, and Mrs. Mack, our half-breed, located the 
spot. The Judge was an old Dakota miner, and by this 
time he had the jimmies. He and the miners went to 
work, while I directed the strategic part of the campaign 
and during M.'s resting spells watched him make love to 
the Widow, who seemed no way averse. They were evi- 
dently at work on an Indian mound, for they dug up pot- 
tery, arrow heads, dead Indians and other relics; but no 
gold met our anxious eyes. Mrs. Mack and the Widow 
t!be» held a consultation, at which we poor white trash 
were not allowed to be present. The retult was that she 
announced that she could not locate the treasure in the 
abserce of the landmarks without the help of McGee, and 
that M, and the Widow must go to his camp across the 
Arkansas River and bring him. M. would have gone to 
the devil if the Widow was going with him, and they 
took the team and departed, while the rest of us prepared 
for a day in the country waiting for their return. And 
it rained and we stayed in doors and lived on hrattt. 
About 9 o'clock the next night M. and the Widow re- 
turned. They had not found McGee, who was reported 
to have gone to the Territory, but brought back a female 
traveling fortune teller about the size and general ap- 
pearance of a Dutch tobacco hogshead with a pumpkin 
on top for a head. She immediately went into confer- 
ence with the women, while the rest of us said, "Bless it, 
we will hope." Hunting with a map was one thing and 
hunting with a fortune teller quite another. The women 
had all retired for a consultation, a sun dance or some- 
thing like that, and after a while we were summoned to 
the presence of the freak. She delivered us a monologue 
about how she could summon spirits from the vasty deep, 
and how she had foimd a strayed mule in Argenta, and 
then proposed to find the treasure for $500 cash in ad- 
vance. I had been elected ppokesman and informed her 
that we were not as big fools as we looked, and that all 
we would do was to pay her $500 if she found the treas- 
ure, and if that did not suit her she could walk back 
where she came from, as she could not have our team. 
She was too fat to walk, and she consented to my terms 
after calling down on us the vengeance of her spirit 
guides for our obstinacy. I will say in passing that the 
aforesaid vengeance has not yet materialized. 
The next morniog came cold and foggy, and we pro- 
ceeded to the field. The old girl waddled around it like 
a walrus on a piece of ice, and said a dark-oomplected 
man with long hair had been on the ground and his 
magnetism bothered her, and also that mine was very 
bad, and unless I left the field she would do nothing. So 
I took the boys out of the field and left the women in 
full possession. Our full-blown daisy then made some 
cabalistic figures on the ground, called the spirits — who 
were evidently busy somewhere el8e-=-ahd then called ua 
back. She pointed out two stumps about SOOyds. apart 
and said the treasure was on the line between them and 
about 3ft. deep. The state of my health did not require 
that I should take out any of that red clay, but the Judge 
and the two miners were full of the true mining spirit 
that goes out every morning with a brown-stone front in 
its eye and comes back at night with an empty belly. So 
they soon had the ditch laid out and went to work. All 
day they labored, and when night came the ditch was 
done and the daisy was |500 short. 
The next day Mrs. Mack proposed to go to some rooks 
sculptured with hieroglyphics and get new landmarks. 
But there are some things I know, and one is when I have 
had enough treasure hunting and Tcraut. The rest went 
to look for the rocks and found them with undecipherable 
inscriptions on them, they said, and spent two weeks more 
in the search. What happened in that time I only know 
by hearsay, but for myself I am persuaded that three days' 
treasure hunting is an ample suflaciency, and that I can 
make more money replevying a blind mule than I can at 
that business. I am persuaded that treasure himting is 
not my forte. TJko. 
LITTLE Book, Ark., Jan, 19. 
TIM, INTEGER VIT>^:.-II. 
Thb railroad town of Doming had just sprung into ex- 
istence. Slowly but surely the reign of the teamster was 
passing away in the great Southwest. Tales of the Santa 
Fe and Red River trails would soon live only in the tra- 
ditions of nation building. I was a thorough "tender- 
foot" on my way to Silver City. Thence as some passing 
whim in my search for health might direct me. The trip 
to Silver was a business proposition. That finished, my 
time was my own. Others had found strength and 
wealth in this unexplored country, old in the legend of 
Spanish padres and prehistoric Pueblos; why should 
not I? 
It was with a mingled feeling of relief and disgust that 
I landed in a low, one story building — hotel, lunch room, 
dance hall, gambling dive and office of the Silver City 
Forwarding Co. A freighter was going out in the morn- 
ing and would be glad of company, so Manager Martin 
informed me. I looked around the throng of miners that 
were blowing in their hard-earned dust, of raw-boned, 
cursing bull-whackers and cowboys, of bedizzened Mexi- 
can women, of flashy faro dealers and poker sharps. 
"Will you please point out the man?'' 
"Oh, you won't find him here. The cuss never drinks, 
and he's as hard to deal with as chaparral. If you strike 
him right he may take you for nothing. If you don't, 
he'll charge you a sackful, but he'll do anything in reason 
so long as there's money in it." 
Through the livelong night there were riotous sounds of 
fights and carousings. The pistol crack was lost in the 
shrill accompaniment of harmonica and fiddle. Laughter 
and imprecation went side by side. As the sound of rev- 
elry died away I fell asleep, It was bright morning when 
I awoke. On all sides the frontier settlement was sur- 
rounded by a waste of sand, relieved on the north and 
west by gigantic yuccas that seemed palms in the allure- 
ment of distance. A hasty breakfast, followed by a few 
inquiries, brought the news that my charioteer had not 
yet put in an appearance, but all arrangements for my 
transportation had been made. I would walk along the 
trail to the northwest, leaving him to follow. So long as 
I kept the track we could not miss each other. 
It was comparatively cool when I started. The air 
seemed life-giving from the mountains, not scorching 
from the deathly desert. At aU events, it was in marked 
contrast with the foul atmosphere of the night. In half 
an hour I had reached the yucca grove. Yesterday 
amid the snows of the Raton Range; to-day in flower- 
land! Was there ever a more marvelous change? The 
sun rose higher and the heat became intense, I lay be- 
neath the shade of a huge pyramid of creamy bells and 
waited. Up to this time there had been a strange dearth 
of animal life, but now long, spotted lizards came out, 
basked in the glow, and peered at me with their jeweled 
eyes. A tarantula wabbled toward me and I gave the 
gentleman right of way. After this I thought it unsafe 
to doze, not knowing what the tawny sands might bring 
forth. Tired nature, however, was not to be balked, X 
nodded* rested my head in my hands and-? 
"Hello, thar! I guess you're the feiler I'm ter take ter 
Silver!" 
The speaker pulled up his two span of mules and stuck 
his head from the dirty canvas protection of a prairie 
schooner. His red hair, yellow from years of exposure; 
his weather-beaten countenance, lank form, all seemed 
familiar, but where I had seen him I could not tell. 
After the outfit had resumed its course he opened the 
conversation. 
"Wha're ye frum, stranger?" 
' New York." 
"Oh! I didn't know but yer come frum Noo Jarsey. 
No 'fense in askin', only I like to know the fellers I 
pack." 
I looked him square in the eye, and the remembrance 
of that June day on the headwaters of the Raritan came 
to me like a flash, 
"Timl" 
"Walt!" Then he paused, afraid to ask the question 
that was uppermost in his mind. "Hev ye seen Cvnthv 
lately?" ^ ^ 
"I saw her Christmas Sunday, singing in the choir 
just the same as ever. All the other faces were new, but 
she looked as sweet as she did twenty years ago — onlv a 
little older " 
"Thank the Lord for that! It's jest the way I dream 
uv her on a Sunday arternoon. I kin see old hilltop an' 
her a comin' frum meetin' ez plain ez ef it was right 
afore me eyes. She ain't married yit?" 
"No, nor even keeping company. They say in Mend- 
ham that she's waiting for some one to come homo to 
her." 
"Waal, I guess she won't hev ter wait much longer. 
Say, Walt, I'm powerful glad ter see ye, powerful glad. 
Yer trip won't cost ye a durned cent, an' ef ye ain't tew 
busy I'll show ye the pootiest ranch in the mountains. 
Guess Cyntby '11 be tickled when she sees it," and he 
chuckled to himself at the very thought, 
"What have you been doing, Tim, all these years?" 
"It's a long story, boy, an' I don't talk much; but I 
almost feel like I wuz hum at seein' ye. Cynthy knows, 
but she doa't say much nuther. Let me see. Ye know I 
never c'u'd git ahead tew hum, so 1 jest bucked the traces 
an' started West. I had enough ter git to Chicagy, an' 
then, bein' f z I war dead broke, I 'listed. They sent me 
daown to Tennessee, an' I wuz with Thomas tew Nash- 
ville; but the war didn't last long arter tbet. Then I went 
over tew Missoury an' built me a cabin in the Ozarks. I 
trapped fur a couple o' winters, but thar ain't no money 
in trappin', an' besides it ain't a life fur a civilized human. 
Arter I'd saved a little stuff I bought a mewl team an' 
tuk ter freightin'. Been at it ever sence, allers keepin' 
ahead uv the railroads. That pays best. Four years ago 
I tuk up a little walley on the San Francisco River, be- 
tween Silver an' Fort Wingate. Pootiest spot on 'arth. I 
kin raise garden sass an' sech, an' ye've got all God's ken- 
try fur a range. Why, the deer come right tew yer door 
tew git a drink. Then I begun ter put my money inter 
stock, an' naow I hev two hundred head of beef critters, 
ez pooty ez ever wuz loaded on the keers. The only 
trouble is the ranch is tew plaguey close tew the Apaches 
ef they should ever break loose." 
"But don't you get terribly lonesome?" 
"Not so awrful. Ye see, I'm a-workin* fur Cynthy. 
The first thing I hear in the mornin' is the birds a-twit- 
terin' 'Cynthy, Cynthy,' an' last thing at night is the 
water runnin' past my cabin still a-singin' 'Cynthy, 
Cynthy.' When I git tired uv meself I take a load of 
stuff tew Silver or tew the post. Miners an' sojers hez 
hard cash an' is free-handed. Mostly when I git lonesome 
is when I'm tew the camps. Sometimes it's plagued cold 
uv nights, an' in summer the hot sand sifts inter yer 
blankets most uncomfortable like. Then the boys comes 
out an' they sez, 'Come in, Tim, an' hev a little red licker 
an' a time with the gals, an' be sociable like.' But, some- 
how, I allers thinks to meself, ' What 'ud Cynthy say?' an' 
so I stay outside." 
It did not take long to transact the necessary business 
in Silver City. Tim kindly waited for me, and then we 
started for his mountain-walled paradise. For a day and 
a half we journeyed slowly over the desert, which gradu- 
ally became more rocky, but all the time with a heavy 
up grade. About noon of the second day vegetation 
changed. Yucca and cactus gave way to oak chaparral. 
There were signs of verdure in the cenons above us. New 
flowers bloomed beside the trail; new birds were building 
their nests and the breezes came fresh from unseen snow- 
banks. At 3 o'clock we halted at Oak Springs for lunch. 
To my surprise Tim belled one mule and hobbled two 
more. 
"We'll git a deer in an hour. Thar'll be plenty a-feedin' 
araound afore long. This 'ere spring runs dry in April, 
but naow it's a reg'lar game presarve. It's only a short 
drive over the divide, and by noon we'll be hum." 
Dinner over, Tim drew out something that betokened 
the same old hunter. It was a .40 90 Ballard, He knew 
that I had its mate among my traps. Our route led up to 
the pines, above which was glistening whiteness, but on 
the lower side they were fringed with succulent grama 
grasses and evergreen laurel, 
"You jest lay here an' keep your eye peeled. I'll go 
yender an' wait for 'em. Don't wait on me an' don't get 
flustrated," with which parting injunction he stole, noise- 
less, out of sight. 
It seemed as though I kept one position for an hour. 
My body was immovable, but I craned my neck and 
scanned every f avorable nook. Then I heard a rustle be- 
hind me, followed by a clucking gobble. I looked. There 
were a drove of hen turkeys enjoying themselves and 
probably awaiting the coming of their leige. It was a 
great temptation, but I thought Tim would not like it, 
especially as he wan stuck on getting venison. 
A hundred yards or so from my stand was a cliff over- 
hanging the traU, down which I expected the deer to ap- 
pear on their way from upland glade. A movement on 
the rock caught my eye and completely diverted atten- 
tion from the turkeys. A big, lithe, tawny object was 
crawling to the edge, crouching, quivering and switching 
his tail with expectancy. He saw something that I did 
not. It was my first view of a mountain lion. Drawing 
as fine a bead as possible, I blazed away. There was none 
of the fiendish shriek of a woimded cat of which I had 
heard so much, only an aimless spring into the gorge be- 
low. As he fell a doe boimded with a crash from the 
thicket and ran between Tim and myself. In the excite- 
ment I forgot that I needed not only a fresh shell, but 
that I should have ejected the empty one. 3o I foolxshljr 
