B02 
FOREST AND sm^AM. 
[June 30, 1900. 
In the Wichita Nation. 
What will send the rich, warm blood out to the very 
linger tips like being out upon a wide prairie with a 
live, quick, nimble horse under a fellow with a lariat 
upon one side of the saddle horn and a Winchester 
upon the other? Witli a spirited and intelligent animal 
eager for a dash away across the level after a wolf or 
retractory steer; in the former case out comes the rifle 
and the spirit of its cracking and the additional satis- 
faction of seeing your bullets dig up Httle puffs of dust 
near the greatest foe to the calf crop, then he rolls over 
in a heap and with a yell you swing around with your 
rifle high in air and begin to slacken speed, for one of 
your bullets went straight, and the career of the wolf is 
over. 
With all due respect to the still-hunter, compare the 
exhilaration of this moment with any sneak thief manner 
of procedure. Your heart does not shut off your air 
supply; moments of painful anxiety are missing; you 
breathe the free, pure air bountifully, and upon the open 
prairie are not compelled to take any of it second-hand. 
I had been upon the ranch three years; could puncture 
fence posts or a hat tossed up and do it out of the saddle 
with my horse spinning along at a brisk run, have plenty 
of fun with wolves and coyotes, but I was no hunter. I 
could not see where the fun came in. It wasn't any sport 
for me to stand out upon the flat with one or two Indians 
upon issue day and kill cattle every two to four weeks. 
This was killing big game, and from sixty to one hundred 
head at a time, but it wasn't any fun. The Indians, con- 
trary to the general belief, are most villainous marks- 
men, save a very few ; and poor, crippled, suffering brutes 
standing about or struggling upon the ground usually 
demanded my attention to put them beyond suffering more 
than the others. Upon one occasion I saw an animal shot 
sixteen times before being killed. The Indians are devoid 
of sympathy; they do not know what it is. 
My older brother, Ransom, wanted to go hunting. As 
a deputy United States marshal he became somewhat 
famous by remaining upon the trail of the Dalton brothers 
for two years, and who, upon more than one occasion, nar- 
rowly escaped being killed by them. With a light team 
of mules, a strong Government buckboard, my own saddle 
horse, a tent, chuck box, guns and ammunition, we 
started for the Wichita Nation, where Gen. Miles and 
W. F. Cody had been upon their last hunt together a 
short time before. By night we were well into the coun- 
try, thirty miles from any habitation, a hundred from a 
pickle fork or a nightshirt — no, sir, no jug with us save 
for water. Made camp, picketed horses, supper dis- 
posed of and to sleep amid the silence that is equaled 
only in the arctics. Wherever there are people there is 
noise, if ever so little; far from a living person only 
may silence in its purity be felt, realized — ^yes, listened to. 
Then we were sound asleep. 
Dimly as from somewhere, " 'D you hear it? Listen!" 
"What'n thunder you doin'? What's the matter?" 
"Sh, listen! Did you hear that?" Ransom is sitting 
up, now standing. Our friend, Dean Ray, who came 
along with us, is gouging an eye. Something wrong out 
among the cattle — a wolf. I listened for the thunder of 
hoof beats. Where was my rifle? "Shsh," short, sharp, a 
deer whistling. Oh, yes, I was awake now, and remem- 
bered that I was not with the cattle. "Hear that buck?" 
says Ransom. "Slip into your duds, boys, quick." 
The moon had just risen. Having a tent, we had un- 
dressed, and now the place was a cloud of wearing apparel. 
"Sssst, be quiet, you fellows." A hitch, a pull, a jab — we 
were ready for anything. I went out under the flap while 
they crept out of the door. Down into the creek the 
bed I stopped and listened and soon found a pair of 
eyes upon me, then another came around, and then 
from that direction, "How in thunder 'd you get down 
there?" This in a stage whisper. "Just like a fool boy; 
you'll get your fool self killed yet." I was ahead and had 
got myself stalked, 
"Shsh !'' Like a jerk from a safety A^alve, down we 
went. The noise was beyond me. I crept up toward 
it, pressing my Winchester hard to me, my heart alter- 
nately threatening to come through at my throat or ham- 
mer its way out just below my belt. I was afraid my 
horse would see me and whinny. All was still save for 
Ransom and Dean, a few yards to my right, creeping 
along in the grass. Where were the mules? We might hit 
one of them in that direction. Then again came that sharp 
snort. Aw, fudge! I rose to my feet. "Tamerlane, 
old boy, what's the matter." He started as I rose, but 
came over to me, every muscle drawn up ready to jump, 
and turned, pointing with his nose and ears toward the 
white tent, which the moon had just revealed, and said 
as plainly as a horse could talk, "What in the dickens is 
that thing over there?" 
I put my arm over his neck and told him about it. You 
may not believe a horse can reason or understand, but 
after a pat or two he walked off, as if to say that the 
blamed thing most scared him to death, and went on 
nibbling grass. Iff 
Now this horse deserves special mention. Quick, nimble, 
graceful, not too large nor yet too small, nervous, very 
proud, yet highly intelligent, he had been unbreakable; 
his spirit was of the kind that never quails at anything. 
The boys called him the Devil and Satan, and rated him a 
killer. I also tried force upon him, and when I was 
nearly exhausted myself, and every hair upon him from 
nose to tail was thick with foam, T tried a quiet word and 
a few gentle strokes uoon his neck, hard with resistance 
and thick with foam. He hesitated in doubt. Continuing, 
T assured him that I was not deceiving him, and he 
limbered up immediate^', and .said plainly, as if he had 
shouted it, "There, now, why could you not have been a 
gentleman and treated me like that lonff ago?" T touch 
that horse with spur or quirt again ? Never ! Cowboys 
abuse their horses shamefully. Tamerlane, so named 
from the Tartar conquernr buried in Samarkand, Asiatic 
Russia, afterward received due respect from them all. He 
still lives; and when he is excited the light in his eye is as 
bright and his nroud sten is as elastic as it ever was. 
Afterward he and T understood each other perfectly. 
Next morning, -racked un and went on: had break- 
fafit, of foursf, Teri miles awny, "Where's the axe?" 
Left where used last. Oh, thunder! Would Tam and I 
go back twenty miles for a dollar and a quarter axe ? Not 
much. Wish we had, though. Camped at noon for 
dinner. Had several extra tent pegs to start fire with — ■ 
that is, Ramsom did. Atiddle ot the afternoon, and 
camped again ; rough country back, and lovely little valley 
in front, with the most beautiful little clear stream run- 
ning through it. Trout? Oh no; Indians in it way 
down sometimes in summer, that's all. Off climbing 
around in the hills back of camp go Ramsom and Dean, 
leaving me to arrange camp. Am sort of an old maid, any- 
how, and would have things just so for 'em to muss up in 
two minutes when they get back. "Aw, shucks, darn it all, 
why the dlcken can't j'ou fellows look a little out? Look 
at that horse pail tipped over into the chuck box ! You're 
a bird, you are." 
"Say, Frank, build a fire, will you, 'n' I'll get some 
water?" Ah-h-h, look yonder !" this from Ransom. 
"Dju see that?" His eyes were jabbing holes in the crest 
of a little rise up the valley like a Hotchkiss rapid-fire. 
"You fellows get supper 'n' I'll slip over there," and he 
was off. Dean starts for water with the horse pail. 
"Heahr, where y'?" "Sh-sh-sh-sh ! Thunder 'n' lightnin', 
keep still, you fellows!" This from off to leeward some- 
where, and we were still as flies. 
Shavings soon burning, then twigs, when how loud they 
snapped; now for some larger wood. Large dry limb off 
there. I try to break it off; can't do it. I hurry, for 
twigs, will soon be out; still can't break it off. Oh, how I 
wish we had the axe ! I would burn it off — only way. 
Later Dean strolls out after returning with the water. 
"Humph, going to move camp? Got fire a bit surburban 
like, ain't you ; intend us to take the L road back to camp 
after supper?" "Burn it off; you're crazy; go get the 
axe, you blamed foo . Say, who lost that axe, any- 
way ?" I supposed it must have been the mtdes or some 
irresponsible individual." "Be good, now, and help me 
break off this limb." We tried. After getting hot and 
general!}^ mussed up, we came down sprawling with a 
thump, but successful ; spent ten minutes stamping out 
the scattered fire amid the leaves; broke off enough be- 
tween the sokes of the buckboard to start a fire. Oh, I 
wish we had the axe — any axe. 
Hungry? Who ever heard of being sick that way? 
Pancakes are quickest cooked. Could I flip 'era over with 
the pan? Why, certainly. Great Scot! I might have 
known it was hot. Oh well, plenty more batter. "Say, 
look out there— you'll put the fire out dumping- wfit dough 
on it that way." ■ 
"Aw, get out — why, where'd you conje from? See 
anything? We didn't hear you shoot." 
"Only a few squirrels over there a little way. But 
Avhat's the matter with you fellows? I'd have had supper 
long ago! You fellows ain't much good in camp; you 
ain't onto it yet. These city chaps," etc. 
The next cake went over all right and I was "on to" 
it immediately. Ransom turned the next and scored. 
"That's the way — pshaw, it's dead easy," but for some 
reason he always turned them with a knife afterward — to 
keep his reputation, I suppose. Later I caught Dean 
practicing with a cold cake, which indulged in peculiar 
gyrations before getting back into the pan. 
"Before daylight?" "All right; wake me, will you?" 
"All right, all right. Aaahoow-ura [yawning], I'm sleepy, 
tired as a dog to-night. Say, did you picket those mules 
good 'n' strong?" "Y-yes." "Drive 'em in good?" 
"Yes. Had to use a chib, though." "Why couldn't you 
have got that axe?" "Ahem. They're cases, those mules; 
up to all sorts of devilment. Let's go to sleep." 
"Whew, got any cover over there?" 
"Crowded a little, eh! How's that? Must get up 
early, let's go to sleep." We flounder around in turning 
over. "Ow ! Holy smoke, what's that ! Ugh, a sand 
burr. Aaahooun, heh-heh-hum, then a long sigh and the 
wheeze, certain predecessor of a snore, begins. Why 
can't people keep their mouths shut at night, even if they 
don't during the day? But then 
The tent is bright as day from the moonlight that softly 
filters through. Gradually it becomes hazy— thicker — 
dim. 
Away down the canon I hear a groan, or something 
similar to it; then another: they come in regular inter- 
vals. The horses — ^they will be frightened. I start out 
down that way. I am fearful of going on, but impelled 
to beyond resistance. Noiselessly I creep along. The 
sound continues. It seems to come upward from some- 
where. I do not hear the horses. I go on; am strangely 
unable to move my hands or arm^s. Am I paralyzed with 
fright? I am trembling frightfully. I want to run, to fly, 
but .still I go on. A turn in the caiion. Right at my 
feet it drops oft' in a precipice. .\t its very edge I am 
petrified into a statue with fright, as though frozen, as 
something of a hazy shape rushes out with a roar and 
pushes me off. Like glass I snap off and go over, 
unable to move,, down. down, down, with a mighty jerk. 
Everything is wonderfully still. I seem to be still alive, 
probably stunned by my fall. I try to move. I try again. 
Am I dead? With a mighty effort I move and turn 
over. What's all this? Ah, no wonder; it is all clear to 
me now; I see why they put me on the outside of the 
bed. Those two duffers have screwed themselves up in 
the cover like a brace of mummies. Wonder if they've 
been dead as long as I have? Oh no — I see now. There's 
where all that roaring came from. Mv. how those fel- 
lows can snore. I am cold as a fish. That accounts for 
something else. Whew, those fellows will scare all the 
deer out of the country with their hippopotamus conver- 
sation. 
Why. I am almost frozen — they .sleeping so comforta- 
bly. Eleven o'clock. I dressed and built a fire to warm 
my stiffened limbs, and sat down over it on the horse 
bucket with my overcoat over my head. Oh, the utter 
hoggishness of some people, to take all the cover— all of 
it — they didn't care if I froze to death. The worst game 
hog was nothing in comparison. I was stunned at their ut- 
ter heartlessness; too much so to awake them and demand 
my share of the cover. Sitting over the fire dozing and 
trying to thaw out I was abjectly miserable. T would 
take Tom and go back in the morning. Tt would serve 
them right if I took the mules and went now, but I was 
too cold, and a hundred miles is a bit far to ride in a 
dav. Then I dozed again. 
Tt was fullv two weeks later when daylight came. I 
fixed up the fire, looked after <:he horses, straightened up 
things and began bTeakfast, Soon there was a stjr in the 
tent, a few yawns, and soon Ransom appeared, stretched 
luxuriously. "Dean, oh Dean, roll out here; Frank's 
about got breakfasta ready." They seemed discreetly 
ignorant of how they had treated me, I explained. They 
laughed. I growled. I was positively sick. We had 
some breakfast and hot coffee., I then felt some better; 
much better; a whole lot better. It wasn't so very bad 
to get to sleep sitting up over a smoky camp-fire after 
all. The others go huntmg up in the woods, but Tam 
and .1 go out for a fine scamper over the level valley. 
A coyote gets up and after him we go, the sweet, cool, 
pure air singing in our ears. Out comes my rifle and 
and the dirt flies, over, in front, behind him. But what 
do I want to kill him for? It's more fun to see him rxm. 
For nearly a mile we spin along and have a fine time. 
If he was a calf-killing gray I would kill him. Tam is 
pulling at the bit hard, but pufling like a steam engine. 
] coax him out of running (no, sir, I am not brute enough 
to jerk and swear at him for wanting to run more). The 
coyote with a good-by glance over his shoulder disap- 
pears over a rise. Trophy? Humph; what would I want 
to kill thai coyote for? Tam and I had our fun. What 
more did we want? 
We frisked about here and there along the edge of 
the valley as we returned toward camp. We had a fine 
time. "Where's your game?" Humph; what did Tam 
and I want with game — that coyote, for instance? They 
laughed and poked fun, but I still doubt their having a 
bit more fun out of killing a few squirrels than we had. 
We had thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, and had caused 
neither sorrow nor death of any kind. 
Their squirrels and a few birds were soon dressed. 
After lunch we walked about a mile down the open and 
turned into a place I had marked during the morning. 
Quail! Oh, my, the quail; quail everywhere. Then the 
carnage began; yes, real carnage. Would it not be far 
better to watch the fine little feflows run about and dig 
up the ground, calling merrily to each other and chat- 
ting away in their soft bird d'ialect? But man after all 
is only an aniinal, with the single difference that he'has a 
spark of divinity called a soul; but the animal is far the 
* greater all too often. 
I had only my Winchester, which in other hands had 
killed a man or two, but that made it no better. Birds 
dropped, but only a few could be found in the Ijrush. It 
was really a sin to keep shooting them tinder such con- 
ditions. Didn't I wish that I had a shotgun? No, T 
didn't. They laughed at me. Pooh, see that bird 
over there? Well, I'll bag him just for fun. "Yes, you'll 
tear him all to pieces with that gun." I clipped his head 
off just as 'nice. I knew that I could. "How many have 
you fellows got? "Oh, couple of dozen." "That's enough 
then." "Enough?" "Yes. How many do you want?" 
"Sixty or seventy-five." "Humph, sixty or sevemy-nvc. 
What will you do with them?" "Kill 'em." "What for? 
You can't eat 'em: they won't keep until we get back 
home; the horses don't use them for a regular diet." It 
was a lively argument. I may have been foolish^ but I 
stuck to my point and finally won out amid growlings 
and low mutterings for the rest of the day about some 
people's inappreciation of a good thing. For the life of 
me I could not see the use in killing a great pile just 
because they could, and I could, too, had I desired. 
But what for? Can any sportsman tefl me? 
We tried for deer. Ransom saw five at different times. 
Queer neither of us other fellows saw any. He fired 
three shots at what he thought to be one. Then we 
turned homeward. I had enjoyed myself well enough, 
but the rest of us, seemingly mad, "didn't kill enough,'' 
they said. But what on earth did they want to kill, kill, 
kill for? There are jobs open in slaughter houses. Why 
not enjoy killing as well there as any other place? 
An incident of oirr return trip is along the line of still- 
hunting. As the boys went down into a small caiion 
they discovered two fairly weH dressed fellows seemingly 
asleep near the road. They were armed to the teeth, and 
neither looked like a cowboy. As they drove out of the 
cafion, I, following, entered it in time to catch these 
fellows cautiously peering at the retreating buckboard. 
They were merely "possuming." I noticed two horses 
further up the canon, both still wearing saddles. They 
were frightfully poor and were tr3'ing to gain a little 
nourishment from some dry twigs along the side of the 
canon. The saddles were good ones. The horses had 
undoubtedly been shamefully abused. I caught the buck- 
board and urged an investigation. I did not admire the 
look of things. Ransom deemed it advisable to let them 
alone. Those poor horses excited my interest. 
In about an hour we met the stage bound for Cloud 
Chief and the western part of the Territory. Beside the 
driver sat a clothing drummer. Whatever he was out 
in that country for I do not know. We. apprised the 
driver of the presence of the two men in the cafion. 
When some distance from the spot he gave the reins to 
the drummer, and with a threat or two if he did not ex- 
plicitly obey orders, compelled him to drive toward the 
canon and into it. Near the caiion the driver dropped out 
of the rear hoot of the stage, swiftly crept through the 
grass and thin oak brush to a spot where he could com- 
mand a view of the crossing in the cafion. The men 
proved themselves bandits by stopping the stage, the im- 
promptu driver nearly shaking the vehicle to pieces trem- 
bling. They ordered out the passengers and inquired for 
the driver, who ansAvered for himself with his Winchester 
by promptly killing both bandits from his position above, 
came down leisurely, tumbled the bodies into the rear 
boot, laced it up to keep them from falling out, secured 
their hor.ses, unsaddled the poor beasts, tied them beside 
the wheelers and rolled into Cloud Chief on schedule 
time with the entire outfit. 
Franklin L. Paynj£. 
The difference in color of fish is mainly due to food, 
but the color of the bottom also affects the genera! hue! 
A trout which feeds upon small fish is usually stouter in 
proportion to its length, and is of a redder color than on'> 
which feeds entirely upon insects and their larvse. A 
diet of crustaceans also produces a deeper color. Trout 
fed upon liver are u,sually light in color. 
To polish deer horns scrub them with a brush and 
sand to take off the dirt and loose fiber, then polish with 
rouge and rotten stor.» pnd a^ cloth, and varnish with 
copal vnrni.sh,— Scientific AtPfinciin, 
