164 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
{Acct. 28. 1897. 
ing variety of plants. There was not a mosquito near the 
camp; there were no jleas at all., and scarcely any of the little 
gnals so troublesome at most places in the tropics. I lay in 
my hammbck that uight listening to the wind among the 
trees and the strange cries of many animals, birds and in- 
sects, while the damp, cool air from the forests blew in my 
face, laden with that odor of the woodlands which is the 
same all the world over. This was the home of the tapir, 
and one could travel many miles in the tropics without meet- 
ing another such country 
Ttie next morning all the foliage was drenched in a heavy 
dew, so abundantly that the ground was wet and water was 
dripping from the trees. 
"A fine day, Senor," said my bead man, "but if you want, 
tapir it must" be a long chase. We had better— but he 
never finished what he intended to say, because I picked up 
the first thing that came handy, and let it fly at his head. 
"Si, Senor," he said very politely, "we will be ready to start 
immediately." There were four men in the parts^ and as 
we might have to sleep in the woods a good supply of provi- 
sions was taken. As we started out, my head man explained 
that we would go along the base of the mountains till we struck 
a favorable sign at some of the numerous streams, showing 
where the animals had come down from the mountains to 
feed; we would then follow up tbe nearest stream, and would 
probably find the game we sought passing the heat of the 
day in. some cool ravine well up among the mountains, 
We had not gone far before we struck unmistakable signs 
of a recent feeding ground ; jjlants and bushes were trampled 
down, and heavy tracks showed plainly that the animals had 
come and gone by way of a large stream between two moun- 
tain ridges. 
The head man looked doubtfully at the place. "I don't 
like this stream," he said. "The animals are dangerous at 
this season of the year. Let us look for another." 
But I felt quite sure that if "a bird in the hand was worth, 
two in the bush" these good tapir signs in sight were worth 
any number promised by a doubtful head man, and I insisted 
in following up the tracks we had found. 
"As the Senor wishes," said my head man. "But the 
animals will go on before us till they are cornered in a 
ravine. Then if we press them too close they will charge 
down on us, and we cannot get out of the way. Our best 
chance will be to return this evening and shoot them as they 
come out, that is if the senor can hit them." I have to con- 
fess that I had missed twenty- seven large turkeys one after 
the other the last week, still I thought I could hit a tapir if 
it stopped long enough for me to try; but evidently my men 
were not quite sure. 
I decided that we would push on up the stream, and the 
work now began in earnest. We made our way cautiously, 
stopping at the numerous smaller brooks and spring runs 
that had cut deep into the hills on either side. We had to 
follow each one to its source because there were no means of 
telling which might have been chosen by a tapir as its rest- 
ing place for that day. 
It was hard work," but the excitement kept us steadily at 
it, and as we made our way up a side stream, and found the 
ravine it had formed growing narrower and narrower as we 
neared the source, where we would go on between solid 
walls eroded in the soft earth, expecting that any turn 
would bring us face to face with an ugly tapir driven up as 
far as it could go, standing ready to charge the intruders, 
was enough to keep anyone in a state of excitement and 
drive all thoughts of fatigue out of one's mind. We kept 
this up for about five hours'^ but there were no results as yet. 
We had to be very cautious, for we were deep among the 
mountains by this time where jaguars were abundant, and 
as this animal is particularly dangerous in these mountains, 
the men were well afraid of them. 
The head man thought I had better take a few shots at 
some of the numerous flocks of wild turkeys that were con- 
stantly jumping up before us. But I wanted a tapir, and 
was determined to follow on till 1 got a shot at one. 
Then the headman said: "I knew they had gone high 
among the mountains. We must hurry to reach the upper 
part of the stream, because as afternoon comes on they will 
laegin to move about, and our chances will be spoiled." 
For the next two hours we hurried on. A dozen tapirs 
might have been passed in the little ravines among the hills, 
but we could not tell. Our best chance lay in pushing along 
as far as we could go. 
After a time the stream began to grow narrower, and 
ledges of rocks that were ditiicult to pass were encountered. 
The air was growing cooler, patches of grass could be seen 
here and there along the mountain sides, and the trees were 
beginning to be of a somewhat stunted appearance. The 
head man stopped, looked about him, and then said: "We 
have come too far. This is no country for tapirs." 
But just then one of the younger men touched my arm and 
pointed up the stream. The men were all excitement, but I 
could not fee anything, and would probably have walked 
right up to the animal without noticing it; but after a mo- 
ment it moved a little, and then 1 saw its great form clearly 
outlined among the trees, a wall of dull gray rocks forming 
a background which prevented my making it out at first. 
To come in sight of the game after a hard day's work 
gives one a sense of satisfaction equal almost to the gratifica- 
tion of killing it, and for the lime being the excitement is 
intense. 
The tapir was evidently resting quietly, and with cautious 
steps we began working our way closer. Presently it 
moved uneafily, sniffed the air and then suddenly faced 
around toward us, evidently angry at the intrusion. 
"It's a cross old bull," whispered the head man. "Take 
care." We went a little nearer, and the tapir lowered its 
head, snifling at the ground. I was near enough for a =hot, 
and taking careful aim at the animal's neck just forward of 
the shoulder I pulled the trigger. There was a crash, and 
the sound of the report went echoing up and down the 
stream, and wit|L it came a trampling sound made by the 
tapir as it disappeared through the woodlands making its 
way up the sloping side of a naountain that afforded an easy 
path out of the ravine. Evidently the animal was not at all 
hurt, perhaps its unusually thick hide had saved it, but 
than the skin is not very thick on the neck. My head man 
said in a grieved voice, "What a pity the rifle manufacturers 
care so little about the arms they sell. Of course the one 
carried by the Senor is very defective." 
I wish I had kicked that head man, but there was nothing 
to say, and nothing to do, except eat as many of our pro- 
visions as we could; and for this the men had so much 
capacity that nothing was wasted, in fact they ate all we 
had, and could have eaten more. 
Our way back to camp was without adventure, we arrived 
just after soiiset, and as I was well tired out I had some- 
thing to eat tbea went to bed, next morning I found the 
men {busily engaged in preparing some fresh tapir steaks 
fromfan anitrial they had killed in the night as it had come 
out of the mountains to feed. 
"Why hadn't they called me?" "The Senor was so tired," 
they said, "and perhaps he cared more to hunt the tapir 
than to kill them, but as for them they wanted the meat for 
their families " 
Then they brought me a fresh piece of steak just toasted 
hefore the fire. 
I wanted no tapir steak, and I told them that canned corned 
beef and old salt pork wore a great deal better. 
"Yes, of Gourse the Seiior prefers the things from his own 
■country, but then the fres^h meat would be a liltle charge." 
But after all, that tapir steak was pretty good; yet 1 still 
wish that I could cat some from an animal that I had killed 
myself. Feancis C. Nicholas. 
SHEEP AND SNOWSHOES.-X. 
A Winter Hunt at the Summit of the Rockies. 
Sunday, March 21, was a glorious day, bright and calm, 
and fully tit for a day of rest. Schultz and McChesney 
were tired enough to stay in the lodge. O-to-ko-mi went 
■down to the lodge of John Monroe for a visit, and here I 
joined him later in the day, armed with a camera and in 
search of pictures. Madame Monroe asked me to eat with 
the rest of the family, and gave me a very good piece of 
trout. John Monroe entertained me with bear stories, 
telling me, among other tales of the chase, of the fight he 
and his wife and little boy had had with a grizzly in a 
berry patch not more than half a mile from where his 
lodge then stood. This bear was wounded at the first fire, 
hut dropped in the brush and made a sneak to get close up 
to its enemy. The little boy saw it coming quietly 
through the thicket, and called out, pointing to it. Old 
John at this point grows dramatic as he tells the story. 
I cannot reproduce his polyglot, but he went on to tell how 
he put his wife and child behind him, himself standing 
out with rifle ready, waiting for the hear to show himself 
above the cover. "H'allways, s'pOse I get in bad place, 
some danger there," said John; "h'allways I mek some 
leetly prie, the good God. dat he have pitie on moi." So 
now he made his "leetly prze," and calmly waited, know- 
ing that not more than one shot would be allowed him. 
This shot, it seems, was delivered at very close range; but 
was fatal, the hear falling so close he could almost push it 
with his foot. " 'Up, here!' h'l call to heem," said John, 
"but he no mek some move, no." At the telling of this 
story Madame Monroe, Philistine as she is in regard to 
her old husband's everyday character, smiled with evident 
pride at the recollection of the steady courage which had 
saved her and her boy. 
More Bear Stories. 
At another time, on this very flat where John Monroe 
had killed this bear and also the one which stampeded 
the saw mill camp in the night, his brother, Francis Mon- 
roe, one day some four years ago, was riding horseback 
through a berry patch, when he saw a bear standing up 
and feeding. Slipping down from his horse, Francis took 
a shot at this bear with his rifle, which was an old .44-40, 
much worn. When the bear was struck it fell down, 
squealing and bawling; but another bear rose up to see 
what was going on, and this one Francis shot down. Yet 
another rose, mucli closer to him, and this also he shot, it 
falling below the top of the brush out of sight. Then a 
fourth bear, close to him, showed up, coming on toward 
him, and this he shot more than once, but could not stop. 
This bear closed with him, and so began one of the fiercest 
bear fights of which I have ever personally heard. It 
seems that Francis had the bridle or lariat of his horse 
fast to his wristj so that his horse could not get away, 
though it tried its best to do so. Francis made all effort 
to keep the horse between him and the bear, hut did not 
forget to use his knife at every chance, succeeding in cut- 
ting the bear deeply in the neck. The horse repeatedly 
kicked the bear, and no doubt but for the horse the man 
would have been killed. As it was, the bear got to him, 
and bit him badly in the chest, and nearly cut off his 
hand, biting through two of the bones of the hand en- 
tirely (as I myself personally saw when I met Francis 
Monroe a few days later than this). The bear at last was 
repulsed by the horse, and Francis was able to mount and 
get avpay. He was long in recovering from his hurts, but 
to-day is a rugged-looking, though gray-haired, man. To 
avenge his injuries, John Monroe, his brother, took the 
trail, ibut got no bear. Schultz and Jackson came 
through there the next day, but at the time found none 
of the bears that had been shot, though they saw the 
whole story amply shown upon the face of the ground. 
Weeks later, Mrs. Monroe found near the place where 
their lodge now stands the skeleton of a bear, large and 
apparently old one, with very imperfect teeth. Francis 
thinks this was the one which attacked him, and that had 
its teeth been better it would have been worse for him. 
John Monroe has killed so many grizzlies that he does 
not pretend to keep track of them. He is really a hunter, 
and his stories are truthful. Thus, over on Badger Creek 
he killed a very big bear which was so close that as it fell 
it knocked the gun out of his hands. His favorite way of 
getting his bear is to wait till it gets so close that he can't 
miss it, then to shoot it in the right place. He told me 
one thing which may he of possible service to those in- 
tending to go for a grizzly, and who may be so unfor- 
tunate as to have the grizzly go after them. He said that 
when a bear is charging a man it runs with its paws curv- 
ing out and in, pigeon-toed, in a rolling kind of gait, and 
with its head swinging up and down in its stride. John 
said that the thing to do then, besides the ''leetly j??'«t'," and 
the care that one shall have no "shakes in - hees knee — 
dat'sbad," is to keep cool, and to hold the aim directly 
upon the tip of the bear's nose, not at his head, and not at 
his chest. Thus, if the bear's head happens to be up at 
the time the shot is fired, the ball will strike him at a good 
place in~*the chest, and if his head is down, it will hit him 
either in the head, the chest, or the neck or back, and that 
on the fatal center jine. He explained tha't if one sights 
at the bear's head he may overshoot and not strike the 
animal anywhere, though it is impossible to miss, no mat- 
ter what position the bear is in, if that careful aim on the 
nosd is kept in view. 
I took such delight in hearing the old hunter's bear 
stories that I kept him busy for a long time, and got out 
some good ones. Yet another one lie told me, showing 
that he was not to be outdone by his brother when it came 
to fighting more than one grizzly at a time. 
"This happened an, Nord" sai d the old man, by which I 
knew meant during his connection with the Hudson Bay 
Company many years ago. He went on to tell how, when 
out hunting, he saw a very big hear digging at an ant hill, 
its head and foreshoulders being covered up. John was 
armed only with an old Hudson Bay fuque, as in those 
days the modern rifle was unknown. Yet with this he 
did not hesitate to attack his meat, and creeping up close, 
he fired at the bear, or at least tried to fire. The piece 
hung fire with a long "fizz-z-z," and then at last with a loud 
"chow-w-w" let go its load. By this time the bear had 
moved, so that the ball struck it in the hind leg, breaking 
the leg. At once the bear made for him on three legs, and 
John only escaped by quickly dodging around a small tree. 
Here the bear played hide and seek with him for a long 
time, trying its best to get at him. John found that by 
holding the tree out away from him at arm's length he 
could escape the reach of the hear, and at last he drew his 
heavy Hudson's Bay dagger and began to cut at the bear, 
striking and then jumping hack behind his tree. In this 
way he finally wounded the bear seriously, and at length 
fairly disemboweled it, so that it went away and lay down. 
Hardly had it done this before a second bear cauie into 
view to see what was going on, and this bear John shot 
and killed. Two more bears appeared in the lame thicket 
before he was out of it, and the old fuque, hang-fire and 
all, proved effective enough to land these also, so that he 
got the four, all in a small distance of each other. John 
said that the crippled bear that was chasing him a,bout the 
tree was persistent, and kept on coming after him, stopping 
and resting, and then charging again up to the tree, but 
that in all the time the loear would not look him in the 
eye. The animal was evidently afraid of its foe, as indeed 
it might well be, for in those days the hunter was a young 
and active man who had no fear of any animal that walked. 
John thinks that he has come as near heing killed by a 
cow moose as anything, he having been charged both by 
cow and by hull moose at different times. He says a dog 
makes a moose very mad, and that if a. cow moose has a 
calf, the sight of a dog makes her very dangerous. In his 
more active frontier days the old man must have seen a lot 
of life worth living. He says that Ijis father, Hugh Mon- 
roe, a man famous on the old frontier, always told his boys 
never to kill a man until the last moment of necessity, but 
always to run away rather than to kill a man. John Monroe 
was, nevertheless, in his time forced at diff'erent times to 
kill four men. He was once surprised in the night and 
shot by Indians, but escaped after killing one of the party. 
At that time he was shot in the thigh, and carries to-day 
the big scar of this wound, as he pointed out to us. 
Lore of the Wilderness. 
All in all, I put in a very good day at John's lodge, tell- 
ing and hearing stories and learning something of the way 
the native peoples lived in the earlier times. I discovered 
how to cure meat in the smoke of the lodge, and how to 
make what John called "Hinjun tea," of the dried pepper- 
mint—a drink which he said was very good, "s'pose you 
sore in breast, you tire ver' much hafter long hunt-" The 
tea was very black, but not unpleasant to take. The In- 
dians use it to some extent to-day instead of coffee or tea. 
I learned also how to set a steeltrap in the snow, which I 
suppose is something not all men know how to do. John 
said that one should take plenty of hair (this he called 
"hay," so that for a long time I could not understand what 
he meant, till he pulled out a bag of hair and showed me), 
such as is commonly left around an Indian camp after the 
curing of elk or deer hides, and that he should cover his 
trap with this and not with snow or twigs. He said that 
first one should make a bed of the hair, and place the 
trap in the bed. Then he should put bunches of the hair 
into the bent spring of the trap, so that it would not get so 
cold and brittle in the times of very cold weather. "Then, 
after setting the trap, the whole should be covered with a 
layer of the hair spread out and haye snow brushed over 
it. In this way tlie cushion of hair will keep the snow 
from packing so hard but that the tread of an animal will 
break it down and spring the trap. In this Northern 
country one must always figure upon the effect of very 
deep snow and very great cold. Thus the marten traps 
are put high up in the side of a tree trunk in a hole cut for 
them, and covered so that the snow cannot make them 
useless. Sometimes a marten trap is set out at the end of 
a long sapling which is felled across a* stump or put into a 
crotch, so that the bait can only be reached by crossing 
the trap on the way out to the end of the felled tree. 
This way keeps the snow from lying too deep on the trap 
to prevent it from throwing when trod upon. 
We told John Monroe where we had left the rest of the 
meat of my last two sheep, and he said that after awhile 
he would go up there and get it. "My h'woman, he 
strong," said the old man again, with great satisfaction; 
from which I inferred that he would do»the finding, and 
she would do the carrying. As we seemed to get along 
pretty well together, I at length asked the old man if he 
could fix me up with a steel trap, so that I could catch my 
big cat up on the mountain, where Billy Jackson had lost 
his snare not long ago. He verj' kindly did fish out a big 
double-spring trap, which later he told me was one of old 
Hugh Monroe's beaver traps, and which he therefore 
prized very much. Renewing his instructions how to set . 
this trap for the cat, I assured him that on the following 
day, no matter what the weather, O-to-ko-mi and I would 
go up the mountain to my first sheep, and I doubted not I 
should catch old. Pah-kiik-kus himself, and so put an end 
to all the trouble we had been having in this valley of 
storm and stress. 
Pah-kuk-kus Escapes. 
Sunday night was very cold, and Monday morning was 
a had one, with no pleasure at all in prospect for the 
hunter who faced the storm-swept peaks that surrounded 
us, Schultz again went out with McChesney, and O-to-ko- 
mi and I went up our mountain after our cat. We found 
the earlier snowshoe trail almost obliterated, the snow 
having swept all things white and level since our last 
journey; yet I noticed that Shep, our dog, when allowed to 
run on ahead, unerringly followed the old trail under the 
snow, though it was not in the least apparent to the eye. 
At least, it was not apparent to my eye, O-to-ko-mi said, 
with a touch of some superiority, that a white man could 
not follow a trail at all, but that an Indian could always 
see the trail under the snow. 
