Aro. 28 1897.1 
FOREST AND STREAM^ 
16B 
When we got to our sheep carcass it did iadeed geem 
that Pah-kiik-kus had been there. The whole country 
was torn up with cat tracks. We found where Billy's first 
snare had been broken off, and then set about hunting up 
bis second snare. At last, having circled around some 
SOyds. or more, we fotmd the heap of brush which he had 
piled over his bait, and fiioted the two cross logs between 
which he had calculated to break tbe neck of his lion 
Ivhfeh it sprung the snal-e. Then we found his spring pole, 
a stout little sapling thicker than one's wrist. We Saw 
where he had hacked it on the side to Weaken it so that 
he could pull it over to set his snare. But of this spring 
pole only a part remained! Of the loop there was no 
trace! The brush heap wag torn as though by a cataclysm 
of nature. 
O-ta-ko-mi ran about the place and excitedly pointed 
out to me the whole story. The cat, lion, wolverine, what- 
ever it was — he said no lynx could have done it — had 
come to the bait, and, as in the other case, froto the faulty 
construction of the trap, put in its paw instead of its head 
through the loop to pull out the bait. It bad been caught, 
and then with a mighty surge and a struggle had snapped 
off the snare pole, and so gone off down the mountain, 
hook, bob and sinker. Since then the snow had come 
and blotted out the trail, which was two or three days old. 
Yet, since that time, some cat, of course not old Pah-kuk- 
kus himself, whom we had snared, had come back to the 
cdrcass and had. been eating there the last night. We 
could see the freshly gnawed bones, the ribs of the sheep 
)5eing cut neatly, as though with an axe, and the whole 
heavy piece of the meat being nearly pulled up from 
under its deep cover of snow and ice. 
This was interesting, and O-to-ko-mi and I concluded 
that our trip had been worth making, even though our last 
snare was gone. And then we made a big mistake. We 
ought to have set the steel trap right at the bait, and then 
we would have caught our animal sure; but we sought to 
be yet more careful, and, therefore, pulled up the entire 
remnant of the carcass, and dragging it off some hundred 
yards or so, hung it up in a tree above reach of a cat or 
lion. Then we built a pen so that the bait could only be 
approached from one way, and at the bottom of this path 
ye set our steel trap, carefujly wrapped in some hair which 
I had brought along with the trap from John Monroe's 
lodge. We figured that the cat would comeback, and that 
missing his feed, he would follow along, stop at the tree to 
sniff, and so be ours forever, like Ginevra and the old 
oaken chest we read about in the Fourth Reader. In this 
we were not altogether in line with actual subsequent his- 
tory, but we didn't know it at the time. 
On our way down the mountain to camp, O-to-ko-mi and 
I fell in with the side trail of McChesney and Schultz, 
who had been over on the opposite side of the Two Medi- 
cine Creek, himting along the face of the big rock wall 
that rose above the lolack timber across the lake from us. 
They got into camp about twenty minutes ahead of us, and 
had only the same sad story to tell of another day of hard 
work and no sight of game. It was really too bad, the 
luck that McChesney had, after his long trip all the way 
out from New York. He hunted very faithfully and hard, 
but the game just did not come his way. I never saw the 
luck run against a man so long and hard on any hunt as it 
did against him on this one. He and Schultz had had no 
easy time this day, and had made a long circle, crossing 
the creek on our bridge where we had crossed when we 
made our upper camp. They had seen no game, and had 
met such storms of wind and snow that it would have been 
next to impossible to get a shot even had they been close 
to game. McChesney now began to lose heart and expec- 
tation of getting a shot, though he in no wise complained 
at what he saw was luck pure and simple, since the game 
was evidently in the country in abundance and only the 
bad weather prevented his getting his head. 
The Relief Expedition. 
We had at just about this time been reduced to low rations, 
our grub being nearly out, and no word having come from 
the relief expedition promised by Billy Jackson. It trans- 
pired, however, that during our absence the expedition 
had arrived and gone. On the trail between the lake and 
our lodge we found a great hole in the snow, and saw that 
here a horse had been down in the snow, and had been 
dug out by means of our shovel. The rider of the horse had 
evidently not learned that the snow was some 6 or 8ft. 
deep in our valley, away from the wind-swept lake. At 
the lodge door we found a small sack of flour, some sugar 
and other stuff. Upon the sack was a curious epistle, con- 
taining the first news we had received from civilization 
for two or three weeks. This letter was inscribed on a bit 
of pasteboard and required some study before we made it 
out, but we discovered its verbatim contents to be as fol- 
lows: "Cook, yeast flour an shugar Bakein ponder i woud 
stope but thay is no feed for my horse joseph Kipas team 
will com tomore Fitchsimens wone the fite .Jackson cant 
come." From this it is to be understood that besides the 
itemizing of the stores left for us, we were to know that 
Joe Kip's team would be up for us the next day, that 
Billy Jackson was not coming back, and lastly, that, as to 
a certain little event which had occurred in Nevada since 
we left the world behind us, Mr, Fitzsimmons had "wone 
the fite," The signature. Cook, as we took it, was the word 
at the head of the letter, meaning that Mr. Cook, the 
nearest rancher below us, had brought in the stuff for us. 
So we had notice served on us that the sheep hunt was 
at an end, for when Boak came in with the team we would 
have to hurry out, as no way for feeding the horses was 
possible in that snow-covered valley. At this, of course, 
came the usual depression hunters feel at being forced to 
break camp, but on the whole we were not loath to go. I 
had killed three sheep and wanted no more, and McChes- 
ney saw that he might stay there another week and per- 
baps not get a shot. Moreover, he said he had taken so 
much prolonged and violent exercise that he had gone 
ptale, and so did not enjoy the work as he had at first. He 
was worn out by the hard work of the climbing, as well 
he might be; for no form of hunting American game could 
ask more of a man than he had been doing. For instance, 
1 presume it would be very much easier to walk down a 
pioose in the flat country twice over, than to take the re- 
peated hard climbs in the icy mountains that McChesney 
had been making for two weeks. Of course, the ordinary 
fall himt in the mountains, with pack train and good 
weather and all that, is an entirely different thing, even 
^n the same country. The mountains one sees in summer 
pr fall are not the ones h© naeets in winter, ajid too niuch 
of them in winter might well take off the edge of one's 
pleasure. 
Asraln Pak-kuk-kus Escapes. 
On the morning of March 2.3 we were undecided in our 
plans, as we did not know for certain that Boak would be 
able to get in on time with the team. All the others ex- 
pressed a willingness to stay in camp, but for myself, I was 
satisfied that I had a lion, or at least a wolverine, or may- 
be a cat up in my steel trap on the mountain, some five or 
six miles from camp. So I set out alone, taking the dog 
ghep along to run any trail which might be necessary. It 
■was a coldish day, so I made good time up the valley, and 
till I struck the icy face of the mountain. Here the wind 
swept away the trail, and I told Shep to go on ahead and 
pick it out, which he did very nicely. At last I got up 
above the timber, and here I realized what a difference 
one's altitude means in mountain work. Below me. a big 
black cloud was sweeping over the valley, and soon it shut 
out entirely the view of the onpOsite mountain, blotting out 
the long sharp ridge of dark timber which I always used as 
my landmark when seeking camp. Then the storm swept 
across my mountain also, and by the time T had turned 
the corner which cut oft' from my sight the Two Medicine 
Lake, there was a howling, whistling gale blowing, and I 
could not see more than a few feet ahead of me. Follow- 
ing the edee of the tree line, however, and more especially 
following Shep, who knew more about the trail than I did, 
I came at last to the steel trap under the tree. To my in- 
tense mortification it was not touched, nor did any trail show 
that it had had a visitor near by. The snow had packed 
the trap full and hard, and in touching the drift to loosen 
the snow 1 was unlucky enough to spring the trap, and it 
took me nearly half a,n hour to set it again. I was nearly 
frozen, and the old and worn out trigger would not hold 
without a twig bent under it.. Half a dozen times thcjaws 
clicked close to my fingers while I was putting this twig in 
place, and I was not sorry when I got the machine back 
in its bed. Then I went back to the old snare hole where 
Billy had had his traps. To my further disgust, I found 
that my cat had been back again that very night, and had 
managed to dig out a few bones from the bottom of the pit, 
which we had overlooked. Of course, this held the 
animal at the old feeding place, and it had not taken up 
our drag to look for the main piece of meat. If we had 
set the trap at the snare hole I should have had my cat 
that morning sure, I tried to take up a trail with the dog, 
as We had tried each day before, but it was so bare and 
open at that point that the snow held no trail, and at last 
I had to give it up. But 1 picked up all the stray bones I 
could find, and concluded I would get Pah-kiik-kus yet if 
we didn't have to break camp right away. At that time I 
did not know that the team was in our neighborhood. 
The Desolate Hearth. 
It was well on in the afternoon when I got down out of 
the mountains and reached our camp. Here I was sur- 
prised and startled to see that there was no camp at all 
left! The lodge was gone, and so was every pai-ticle of the 
outfit. The fire was out, and the ashes lay cheerless and 
cold on the spot about which we had passed so many 
happy hours, I do not recall ever feeling much more of a 
twinge at any sudden incident, it did look so desolate and 
dismal by the contrast. This had been home for me— as 
much as any place in the world— now for some days, and 
to see it thus torn down and desolate made me feel mighty 
lonesome. It showed, too, what it would mean to be 
caught in that country without the proper means of taking 
care of one's self. Sometimes one thinks he can get along 
pretty well alone,but suddenly I got a touch of lonesomeness. 
I wanted to see the other fellows. So I hit the trail down 
the lake and before evening was at John Monroe's lodge, 
where I found Boak, the team and all our outfit. Schultz 
and McChesney had taken down the lodge and packed 
everything on the sledge and toboggan, starting down to 
John's place with their loads. The team met them and 
relieved them, and now half the stuff was at the top of the 
sharp ridge above the lake, which made the great difficulty 
in getting out of that valley at that season of the year. It 
was possible to move only a part of the total load at a time, 
but Boak said he could get out with one more little load 
up the hill. It was now too late to start on the trail for home, 
so we concluded to stay at John Monroe's lodge, all seven 
of us, which we did with great comfort, albeit with very 
little turning room. That was an awfully windy night, 
and the lodge cover flapped and groaned all night. 
Mrs. Monroe said that it was surely Pah-kuk-kus, and 
John said it was plain that we were followed by that 
evil spirit, as he had never known it before to storm so 
long and hard in that valley. He thought that if we went 
away it might quiet down a little! He was still more con- 
vinced that we were objects of marked suspicion when I 
told him my story of the cat trap. It was surely Pah-kiik- 
kus up there! And he much bemoaned the loss of the 
trap, which he was sure he would never see again, and 
which he valued so much as an heirloom of his father. 
As it was now sure that I could not go up to the trap again," 
I showed John as well as I could where to go and how to 
get there; but he groaned and mourned, and said he did 
not think it would be possible for anyone to find the trail 
after the hard wind that had been blowing. Then I gave 
O-to-ko-mi a S5 bill, and told him it was his if he would go 
up when the snow was gone and get John his trap again. 
I have never heard whether he did or not, and do not 
know what became of my cat. Yet methinks that his 
skeleton now whitens up there on my mountain, not far 
from where I left the old trap of Hugh Monroe, for the 
clog I arranged for him would stop an elephant from going 
very far through the woods. Nothing can have saved that 
cat, unless he was lucky enough to spring the trap and not 
get fast. That he came there to get at the hanging meat 
there is almost a certainty. I want that cat yet mighty 
bad, and I would give a pretty penny to have his hide 
after all the bother he made me. Of course, if it really 
was Pah-ki\k-kus, and not a lion, or a wolverine, or a 
mammoth lynx, I cannot expect to catch him; but if it was 
any animal and not a demon, I sure have him out there ia 
the hills somewhere to-day! 
Closing- Hours. 
While we were at John's camp the old man took a fancy 
to my toboggan, so I left it with him. I took a fancy to 
one of his pack saddles, so I took it with me. Boak and 
I at this stage completed mj^ education in the diamond 
hitch, for Boak is an old-time cwgador, and packed in 
"Californy" in the good old days, John Monroe showed 
me how to pack a dog, telling me that in his life "auNbt^d*' 
they often used dogs, not only to draw sledges, but to 
carry packs. He said a good-sized dog could pack SOlbs., 
some of them even lOOlbs. The way to lash the load was 
around the flank of the dog, not about the ribs, as it could 
not stand that. The old man in pantomine showed us 
how they used to pack a dog train, the dogs apparently 
crushed into the snow with their packs, but staggering up 
and getting under their loads. "Then you see him 
wag he tail, like so," said John, wiggling his upright 
thumb in a way which showed the whole comical picture 
so plainly that all laughed. He explained to us that if the 
dog could not wiggle his tail, he could not carry the pack, 
but so long as his tail was going, it was all right, John 
said that a new dog when packed was much like a horse, 
rolling and bucking, and trying to free himself of the pack, 
but he soon got used to it, and would go on the trail stead- 
ily all day, carrying his pack. John said he was going to 
rig himself up a dog train now with his new toboggan, and 
go after his rations the way they used to travel au Nord. 
And he cracked an imaginary whip, and gave the shout of 
the old days of the fur trail. 
Thus, on March 24, we turned our backs on the valley of 
the Two Medicine, which had been a spot so full of inter- 
e.'^t to us, and brought to a close this section of our Rocky 
Mountain hunt. The day broke calm and fair, and I waJt 
able to get some very pleasant pictures of the lodge of 
John Monroe, showing the old man and his wife in front 
of their winter home, snowshoes and all. I got a good 
view from the ridge lookin? back over our lake, and this 
picture shows old Rising Wolf clearly in the far back- 
ground, across the ridges of black timber. At last we ajil 
bid the old hunter and his "h'woman" good-bye, not with- 
out regret, for they had been kindly and full of interest.. 
Taking off his hat, he devoutly hoped that "the good God 
mek some blessings on you," as he said good-bye. Madame 
gave to McChesney ancj myself each a fine tobacco pouch, 
embroidered with bead work of her own manufacture, and 
when asked what she would like from the settlements,, 
said she would like a black calico dress and some wood to. 
make bows for a pair of snowshoes — as the wood of that 
country was too soft. Her latter request we found the 
more diflicult to fill. 
The "Black Wind." 
There was suspicious mildness in the air that day which 
did not deceive the experienced members of the party, 
who knew that a Chinook was brewing, the "black wind"' 
of the Indians. We could see all the mountains covered 
with low, black clouds, and soon as we were out on the 
open country above the timbered valley, the full force of 
a steady and powerful wind struck us overwhelmingly. 
It was not cold, but in violence it was just short of a hur- 
ricane. Fortunately, it blew in directly in our course, so 
we were helped and not hindered by it. We made the 
run, or those on foot did, to Cook's ranch, some eight 
miles, in about an hour and a half. All one had to do was 
to raise his feet and the wind would carry him forward^ 
his stride covering twice its ordinary distance. We were 
now all hardened and tough with the steady exercise os 
the hunt, and felt the keen exhilaration of the air and 
exercise. We paused only briefly at Cook's ranch, and 
here transferred our outfit to a spring wagon which Boak 
had brought up that far. As we got down into the prairie 
country we found the whole earth streaming with water. 
We had come out of winter into spring. 
At the agency we made but a short stop withiMaj. Steell, 
and reached Blackfoot station with a very tired team after 
dark that night, going on out still further, to where the 
cheery lights of Joe Kipp's ranch house beckoned us. 
We now had the first opportunity for a number of days 
to see ourselves as others saw us. When I looked in a 
glass I nearly doubted my eyes. I was dirtier than I had 
thought it possible for any human being to be and live. 
A silk handkerchief which I had sewed about my neck 
when I first went into camp was absolutely black with 
the grime of the lodge smoke. McChesney had a lovely 
beard, which he hated to sacrifice, but when we both 
shaved we found that our faces had shrunk about one- 
half. In other words, we were in training. The work of 
the climbing had put us in perfect condition, so that had 
we been obliged to go into the matter with the gentleman, 
we felt sure the despatches would not have said: "Fich- 
simens wone the fite." 
This brought to a close our sheep hunt, but within a few 
days we went back into the mountains once more, this 
time after goats, and of this hunt I shall also tell, as it 
shows yet better the real meaning of a winter hunt in the 
Rockies. E. Hough. 
1206 BoYOK Btjildikg, Chicagro. 
Good Words About Some Good Things. 
Meitphis, Tenn., Aug. 5. — By tlie way, do you know that I am your 
oldest consecutive reader; at least no one could be my elder, but 
might be a twin, since I have read every Forest and Stream ever 
priated, ah iniiio, and always send it to another son of a gun. 
GCIDO. 
Monroe COuntV, Pa., Au? ^—Editor Forest and Stream: 1 re- 
ceived to-day the Game Laws in Brief. Many thanks. It was just 
what I wanted. Many ask about; the new law, and now I have it to 
explain from. 1 have worked hard for that law, and was the first to 
have it introduced in the Legislature eight years ago. 
It was through reading Forest and Stbbam I reformed. I live in 
the midst of the worst market-hunters in the State. I have won 
them over gradually. I have often brought: them in and read to them 
from Forest and .Stream- I think if they would read Forest and 
Streaji there would be more game and less pot-huncing. H. T. F. 
Portland, Me,, Aug. 8.— The Forest and Stream was never better 
than at the present time, and is certainly the best rod and gun 
journal published. W. N. T. 
A CORRESPONDENT writing from Glenwood, N, Y., says: "I take 
your address from a copy of the Forest and Stream of 1890— or what 
js left of it after having been thumbed by readers for seven years 
here in the country store." 
Waitham, Mass., Aug. 9.— I have just read Eugene McCarthy's 
most interesting and delightful description of "When, Where and 
How to Catch the Leaping Ouananiche," and to say that I am very 
much enthused hy the perusal is to draw it very mild. I now feel 
that next season will rarely see me on these waters. But my present 
object in writing is to procure two copies of this unique book. I 
therefore inclose $1, the balcvnce pass to ni7 Credit for one copy of 
Forest anp STaBAM, Jj. G, 
