242 
FOREST STREAM. 
[April 1, i8g0. 
Highways and Byways.— V. 
The fishing season had long been past, chickens and 
grouse had left the open for dense thickets and upland 
pines. Even the October glamor of the duck season 
had worn away. Little by little the snows crept doAvn 
the mountain sides until the mantle of white was within 
500ft. of tlie valley. Little by little the ice by the 
margin of the lake grew thicker, and the steam that 
arose from the warm springs and hung over streams fed 
by artesian wells assumed the cloudlike appearance in- 
dicative of early winter. A long, dry, dreary autumn for 
the farmland ; only along the slopes of the Wasatch the 
clouds lowered, left their fleece-like burden and then 
melted away -in the heaA'ens where they were born! 
At length there came a change. The winds tossed 
the dried leaves hither and thither, moaned by day and 
shrieked by night, through naked branches and around 
fireless hearths. The sky Avas overcast, and the chore 
boy cut an extra supply of maple and aspen, Down 
from the far North on the wings of the storm came the 
ducks and the geese — the reserve corps of that mighty 
migratory host that had been hurrying in squads, in 
regiments, in brigades, for six weeks toward the flovyer- 
land of Mexico. Somehow the weather just suited 
my frame of mind, and when George H. dropped in 
to say: 
"See, here, old man, you've simply got to get away 
from yourself and your surroundings," I knew that he 
wanted me to go after ducks. 1 looked at the gun that 
T had left uncleaned in its case for seven long weeks. I 
almost dreaded to take it in my hands, and yet — . So 
I simply asked him what was up, and found that he 
had made all arrangements for one of our oldtime 
outings. 
George and 1. armed and equipped for anything 
that might come in our way left Provo on the 6:20 train 
that evening bound for the South. The feeding grounds 
of our erstwhile pleasure resort (Utah Lake) have been 
so destroyed by carp that there is not one duck now 
where there were too five years ago. Hence we were seek- 
ing pastures new. A ride of twenty-four miles brought 
us to the little village of Santaquin. where we were 
soon in converse with the local sports. There were 
talcs galore of deer and chickens, but as for ducks, no 
one could speak authoritatively, although the spot where 
we intended going was only eight miles away. How- 
ever, the two young men who had arranged for our 
team on the morrow and who were to accompany us, 
a>»sured us that if we did not find ducks we could get 
plentv of jack rabbits. 
Off goes the alarm! It is S o'clock, but dark as mid- 
night; cloudy, cold and promising a good day for ducks. 
An hour later we have had breakfast and five of us— 
George H. and I, Goflf and Reese, with Peter, the 
charioteer, climb into the farm wagon and drive off 
through the darkness. Long before we had reached the 
summit of the divide between Utah and Juab counties 
my partner and I decided that we had better give the 
slip to the rest of the party before commencing active 
operations for the day. Not but what they were good 
fellows and all that, but they would point their guns 
about in a most careless way, carry them loaded when 
it was dark as Erebus, and we were not accustomed 
to that kind of a crowd. 
Just as dawn flushed into daylight we rattled down 
the slope toward the south. Before us lay the reservoir 
of the Mt. Nebo Canal and Irrigation Co., looking 
like a natural lake. This body of water is four miles 
long by one-half mile wide, and as it is comparatively 
shallow and its inlet contains the best of feed it is just 
the place for ducks and geese. As we drew up and 
uncoupled the horses we" arranged the details for the 
day's sport. Geo. H. and I were to pre-empt the east 
side of the lake, while the others were to hunt the west 
side to their he'arts' content. My partner found a sand 
spit, where he could build a blind, and I went on to the 
summit of the next ridge, and suddenly stopped. Before 
me and less than one-fourth of a mile away was a tre- 
mendous flock of geese. The intervening stretch was 
flat and open, so I lay down and watched the sun 
break through the clouds over the summit of Nebo— 
only five miles away and nearly 8,oooft. higher than 
the level of the reservoir. By and by the geese that 
had been standing like statues grew uneasy. They 
seemed to be holding a coimcil. Then they arose simul- 
taneously. I expected to see them rise high in air and 
soar away in regulation phalanx. 
■But no; they merely circled -directly behind me and 
went down in the stubble, and at no greater distance than 
they had been before. Of course I tried the sneak act, 
with the usual result when one is after the wary goose. 
I tried to get them at a distance of 125 paces, the 
nearest that I could crawl under cover. If feathers fell 
I do not know it. George had also been crawling, and 
we arose together. 
Then we went back to the reservoir, and coming to 
it at a little bluff, a flock of teal arose almost under 
our feet. We gave them both barrels. Three fell dead, 
and a couple of cripples escaped. George set these 
up for decoys, and lay flat on his back, covering his 
boots with moss. A few hours later he did some ex- 
cellent work in this position. I went to where the geese 
had first been, made a blind of sagebrush with a moss 
bed, and esconced myself to await developments. Alas! 
there was no breeze; the threatened storm had melted 
away, and the ducks were enjoying themselves in the 
middle of the pond. Eight o'clock came, g and 10 had 
past. I had not had a shot. Presently the wind began 
to rise; a fog-like mass crept up from the southwest. 
Then came a gale, and there were snowflakes in the 
air. How those ducks came in and circled. I had 
scarcely time to set up the decoys. George, too, was 
exceedingly busy. At i o'clock I had to go back to the 
wagon for more shells. In passing my partner, I ob- 
served that he had a large pile of teal and one goose. 
My ducks were all grey ducks and redheads. 
At the wagon I found the three boys around a sage- 
brush fire, getting dinner. The/ had secured two ducks 
to our thirty-seven. They were going to devote the 
afternoon to jack rabbits. It was needless to urge me 
to remain for lunch, I had more important business 
elsewhere. In the afternoon George took my station 
and I chose a new spot, where there wag fine feed. After 
putting out seventeen decoys, I sat with my feet in a 
ditch, and a single scanty sagebrush for a blind. The 
sport here was just as good as at the other places, 
but unfortunately all the other gunners about the lake 
became envious of our luck, and soon we had more 
shooters about us than ducks. Twenty-two was our 
afternoon bag. We were satisfied. At 4 o'clock we 
cried "enough," and in the gloaming, just as the snow 
commenced to predicate the first sleighing of the season, 
we drove back to Santaquin. When we reached Provo 
at 9 o'clock the next morning and felt sufliciently elated 
to take a hack at the station and pile the ducks up around 
"cabby" we were the observed of all observers. 
The new Utah game law makes one very important 
change. Heretofore the open season on ducks has ex- 
tended until Feb. 15, with no spring shooting. Now it 
closes Dec. 15. but the month of March is open. The 
reasons are obvious. Ducks that winter here breed 
here. Migrants do not breed here, and we have been 
preserving them solely for the sportsmen of Idaho and 
Montana. ' 
The law passed Peb. 28. . At S o'clock P. M., March 
10, the Governor signed it. At 5 o'clock the next morn- 
ing my alarm went oft'. I did not want to exhibit un- 
professional zeal by starting out the evening before. 
In the chill of the dawn I was joined by Leo and 
tester, and a five-mile walk brought us to Spring Creek, 
bordering on the preserve of the Salt Lake Sportsmen's 
Club. Sprigtails and teal were very much in evidence. 
They frequented the large and more open pools, while 
the larger birds were found solitary or in pairs in the 
small sloughs and ditches, We had a royal day's sport. 
The breath of spring was as exhilarating as the sport 
itself. From the rushes came the mingled croak of 
frogs, carol of blackbirds and querulous voice of the 
omnipresent muskrat, while from the distant meadows 
came the spring song of robin and lark. In the clear 
waters of the brooks we could see great trout working 
upward, and here and there the disturbed gravel showed 
that spawning had already commenced. Under the 
spring starlight we went home in Leo's buggy, which 
had come to bring back the trophies, and now I think the 
gun can rest until next summei-'s trip. 
Shcshone. 
Provo. Utah, March 16, 
Just About a Boy.— XIX. 
"Nothin' can't be much nicer 'n that, can it?" asked 
the boy as he stood looking up at the mist-hung peak 
of Inyan Kara Mountain. 
The first rays of the ri.'^ing sun were penciling the fleecy 
clouds with gold and crimson, while the lower bulk of 
the great hill was still a mass of indigo blue and a blended 
pile of rocks and timber reaching up .to the sharply de- 
lineated crest. 
"Say; I reckon ut a feller livin' down 'n th' flat coun- 
try 'long th' river doanno what he's missin' full he sees 
this kind o' sights, does he? Gee! don't seem .s'ough 
juss light 'n' air'd do that, but I reckon that's all they is 
to it— 'ceptin' th' rocks 'n' timber 'n' things. 
"Looks purtier 'n any picture 't ever I see — them kind 
ut fellers 'n' girls paints to hang on th' wall, yer know— 
on'v th' girls mostly alhls seelttS to pairtt ilowefs 'stid 
o' mountains *n' things; tit Is, things like that. Reckon 
that hain't th' girls' fault, though, 'cos they mostly stay 
where they's people 'n' don't come galevantin' round 
'mongst th' mountains wher tli' snakes 'n' bugs 'n' crit- 
ters is; reckon they'd git th' life 'bout skeart out of 'em 
ahunerd times a day if they did; so they natchelly just 
have to paint flowers. 
"Course th' flowers ut they paint don't look much like 
reel flowers, but then th' girls is satisfied, I guess, so 
what's th' odds?" 
"Well, young man, yoii'd better stop Iflol'aWJng: aiid 
get vour pack sack on if we are to climb that hill and a,*!t 
back to camp to-day," I said, as I threw my I raveling 
pack over tnv shoulders. 
"Aw right, I'm with yeh," he replied, slinging the 
straps up over his sturdy arms and giving the pack a 
shake to settle it into position. 
"Go ahead, 'n' I'll keep yer moc'sins a-movin'." 
Then we slowly conquered the pitching trail that led 
ever upward over steep slopes covered with smooth pine 
needles, where a misstep would have sent us crashing 
down into the gulch — on up over great masses of tumbled 
rocks that had ridden some snowslide half way down the 
mountain in former days and over all the little nart'ow 
ledges, where we must needs face the cliff and cling with 
our finger tips and moccasined toes and not look down 
into the dim gulch, with its mass of seemingly needle- 
pointed pines, pointing upward, so far below. 
Past the sunny, moss-covered rocks, where the yellow 
violets grew in the crevices and the quaint, waxy moun- 
tain flowers sidle up against the boulders for protection 
from the winds that forever m.oan across the high places 
of the earth. 
Then at last we came to the great cliff where the south 
side of the big mountain is broken sheer off and is only 
a smooth wall of rock 4,000ft. high. 
Flat down on our stomachs, with the packs and gilns 
left behind, we crept right to the edge and enjoyed the 
prospect that flattened away below like a play world in 
a sand heap. 
"Gee!" said the boy; "this makes a feller feel creepy n 
sort o' funny all over, like he's goin' to juss tumble head- 
fo'most away down there ont' them." rocks 'n' trees 'n' 
things, don't it? Looky there! There's a big bird, a 
neagle, ain't it, sailin' 'long, 'way down there, 'bout half 
way to th' ground! Gee! don't it look funny to see a bird 
a-flyin' 'long 'n' us a lookin' at his back 'stid o' his 
breas'? That's th' first time I ever se anything like that." 
"Lay still," I answered, "I'm going to roll a big. rock 
or two over the cliff— you watch them and see what hap- 
pens when they strike the ground." 
Then I scrambled back up and started a big boulder 
to rolling put and c^''er the cliff edge— fciim aaotlier. 
Both slipped over the edge and no sound came back 
as they plunged downward into space. 
"Gee! they're a long time fallin' " said the youngster, 
"There's th' first one— 'n' there's th' other! Gee! 
They're knockin' trees down like pipestems — ^juss jumpin' 
'n' rollin' like er couple o' cannon balls! Gee! but they're 
smashin' — there! one of 'em's busted all smash 
agin' 'nother big rock 'n' they's a sort o' smoky lookin' 
place, 'n th' air like ye'd fired a gun." 
All this was a strange, new experience for the boy, and 
I smiled as I thought how I had long ago enjoyed the 
same "creepy" feeling that the boy described and watched 
big rocks crash down among the pines in the Uintah 
range, far beyond the Western horizon from our present 
perch on Kara's side. 
"Come on, lad," I said; "we can't lose much time if 
we make the peak and back to camp before night. The 
trail from here on is smooth and easy, but it is long, so 
if you want to look at the rest of the world to-day we 
must be going." 
Presently we were traveling the "hogback," where the 
trail was all the flat ground there was, and on both sides 
the mountain fell, steep and tree-covered, away to the 
lower world. 
Above us were the junipers clinging downward from 
the great mass of creviced rocks that formed the peak. 
The boy had a volume of comment and questions for 
me to listen to as we pulled ourselves up over these last 
obstructions and then stood on the top of the world, 
panting for breath but safe and glad that we were there. 
When our pulses were normal and we breathed natural- 
ly again, the boy began: 
"What's that sort o' a cloud 'way off over there?" 
"Mountains. Probably some of the main chain of the 
Rockies; perhaps one of the high peaks in northern 
Colorado. This range over here to the northwest is the 
Bighorn chain away west of Powder River, where Custer 
was killed. 
"That queer pile to the north there is Devil's Tower, 
just a strange freak of nature that has forced that pile of 
basalt up into the air and left it. Inyan Kara is formed 
of the same kitid of rock. This little mountain all alone 
here to the north is Sundance Mountain, where the Sioux 
Indians hold their sun dances. These to the east and 
northeast are the Black Hills, each little chain having 
a name of its own. The nearest range is called BlacK 
Buttes; that's the Bearlodge Range just north of Sun- 
dance, and that one away off to the east, the one that only 
shows its top, is Custer's Peak." 
"Gee, but they's lots of 'em ain't they," said the boy. 
"Say, I'm hungry, less eat." 
His last remark brought a hearty laugh from me, and 
the old mountain top rung with more hilarity perhaps 
than had broken the silence of the upper regions of the 
world for many days. It struck me as a laughable thing 
when the boy abruptly mixed the grandeur of the view 
with the very material and commonplace idea of hunger. 
At any rate the lunch was produced, and the youngster 
did ample justice to the cold venison and hard biscuits 
that we hatl carried all the way up in our pack sacks. 
"Gee, I'm thirsty 's a fish." was his next remark. 
"Where'll a feller git a drink?" 
"Well, I guess we are a good way above the nearest 
running water. You didn't think that you'd go so high 
that there'd be no place for the water to run down from, 
did vou, when you left camp?" 
Tne boy looked blank. ^ 
"I never thought o' that," he said. 
"No, I know you didn't; what are you going to do 
about it?" 
"Go 'ithout, I reckott." he answered. 
"Well, ydU see you woti't have to this time, my boy, 
because a good fairy told tne there was no water up 
here, and I just put a canteen full into my pack for fear 
we might need it." 
"Gee, but that's good fere sure," he answered with a 
grin, as he passed- the canteen back after he had absorbed 
one-third of its contents. 
"Now." 1 said, "let me tell you a few things that may 
be useful to you some time. Always remember that the 
peak of a ttiouutaih, unless it is a snow mountain or un- 
ffess it is early ifl the season, is just about the dryest place 
you cah fihd oil the face of the earth, and don't go up 
for ahy leftgth of tinle uflless you carry at least some 
water with you. Nei^t, Sever drink very much at once up 
here, because it makes you tltlsteady on your feet if you: 
climb iii any of the bad places yoU are mofe than apt to 
find along the trail. t»on't eat much for the same reaaon. 
You can get along very wdl on a mouthful of t\vo of 
water at once, and just enough to eat to keep from feeling 
hungry is far better than a full meal in this high country. 
Then, you can travel better, are steadier and surer footed. 
Wait until you get lower down to eat or drink rtltich and 
you will get along all right." 
"Reckon I won't forget that— not after this here lesson 
sure," said the hoy. He was a regular sponge when it 
came to just simply soaking up lore of the wilderness, and 
I knew would need no second prompting. 
"You see where the sun "is, don't yOii? I asked, after 
we had sojourned for some time in the Upper country. 
"We had better be going if we are to get back to camp. 
This is not a pleasant place to be after the sun gets down, 
for it gets pretty cold and does it very quickly, so 
let's go." ' 
"Here— not that way— we'll go down the cliff. That is 
why I brought the ropes. Give me yours and we will 
knot them together in the loop ends, then we can double 
them around a tree trunk or pointed rock and slide down 
some pretty steep ground with safety." 
The boy looked on while I explained this Method oi 
mountain travel, and then we started down the almost 
straight northern side of the great hill, rather than to take 
the time to retrace our steps over the long trail that 
wound up from, below, and followed the great ridge of 
rock, which winds half-way around the peak just like the 
thread of a screw and gives the m.ountain its nam.e. 
"Ropeing" is a fast way of traveling down hill, and 
in an hour we had slid, clinging like flies, from the peak 
downward until we stood among the nervous, quaking 
aspen trees that grew in the bowl-like head of a little 
cafion. Down this cleft we traveled easily, and came 
out into the little glade where the grass grew and our 
transient home had been left early in the morning. 
"Gee, it don't Icfdk like it Was a day s traVel to go up 
