can trap or shoot them who has had an opportunity to 
study their habits and mark their wonderful intelligence. 
In their journal, Lewis and Clarke tell of a place they 
passed on the Missouri where the beavers had cut down 
four acres of timber. I know a place in the Two Medicine 
country, where, years ago, the industrious creatures built 
a dam two-thirds of a mile long and over seven feet in 
height, thus creating a large artificial lake. The water 
has long since broken through it, and the beavers have 
gone. Surely, if there is a hereafter for man, there is 
for them also. 
We left the island at sunrise. There were again many 
geese here and there on the bars, but they flew long be- 
fore we came in range of them, and I didn't want one 
badly enough to go ashore and sneak up on a flock. As 
we rowed down past the wide Musselshell flat and through 
the rapids, we saw several flocks of chickens along the 
shore. Not coveys, but flocks of from twenty-five or 
thirty up to twiceand thrice that number. They band to- 
gether in large numbers at this season of the year, and it 
was no uncommon sight to see several hundred of them 
at morning and evening winging their way across the 
river. They afford good sport with the shotgun, but 
neither Sah-ne-to nor I care for them; so, except at the 
beginning of the trip, when we had no meat, we never 
molested them. Often we passed within a few yards of 
them, and it was amusing to see them stretch their necks, 
cock their heads one way and another, and try to make 
out what we were. From Cow Island down there are 
also many sagehens in the valley, but strangely enough 
we never saw any along the shore on the whole trip. 
Drink they must, but probably not so frequently as do 
their cousins, the sharptails. 
Just east of the Musselshell, on the south side, are a 
number of very tall buttes, much like the "Dark Hills" 
east of the Judith. The formation is the same, brownish- 
black clays and decayed pumice stone, and many of them 
are flat-topped and crowned with a heavy stratum of sand- 
stone. Dwarf pines and patches of juniper cling to their 
barren slopes in places, and between them are deep, dark 
coulees. No doubt they are the home of many a little 
band of mule deer, for we saw many tracks of the crea- 
tures along the shore until we came to Squaw Creek, four 
miles below. This is another "dry" stream, coming into 
the river from the south through a deep, narrow gash 
in the hills, and here on the north bank of the river 
opposite it, one of the many tragedies happened for which 
these bad lands are famous. It is quite a story: In 1862 
Nelse Keyser and John Lepley were partners in a placer 
claim near Helena. Their bar was paying wages, but no 
more, so it was agreed that Keyser should go prospecting 
for something better, while his partner worked the claim. 
A year later he came into Fort Benton from below, and 
said that he had found some good diggings down the 
river, showing several hundred dollars' worth of coarse 
sold dust in evidence of the fact. He went on up to 
Helena, told his partner his story, and tried to get him to 
join in working the discovery. But Lepley declined to 
go, so Keyser sold him his interest in the claim and re- 
turned to "Fort Benton, where he tried to get several of 
his friends interested, among them Mr. Jos. Kipp, James 
Arnoux and George Croff, all living to-day. But like 
Lepley, none of them cared to risk their hair down in 
that hostile Indian country, and beside, they practically 
had a gold mine in the fur trade. Finally Keyser found 
a man named Wright to accompany him; they built a 
large flat boat, loaded it with provisions, mining tools, 
lumber for sluice boxes, and with their wives — Piegan 
women— set sail for their Eldorado. 
Keyser repeatedly told the women that there were plenty 
of wild plums in the vicinity of his discovery, and one 
morning, after they had been on the river some days, he 
said : "One more sleep and then we will arrive at the 
place." 
At dusk they came to Squaw Creek and went ashore 
opposite it for the night. They were all sitting around the 
fire, the women cooking, the men smoking and talking, 
when suddenly there was an appalling cracking of guns 
from the surrounding brush, and both of the miners rolled 
over dead, completely riddled with bullets. Then a party 
of Assinaboines rushed out, scalped and mutilated their 
victims, and took the women prisoners, forcing the poor 
creatures to accompany them to the camp of their people, 
somewhere out on Milk River. Such of the supplies in 
the boat as they could not use they set fire to, and turned 
the craft adrift. It was many months before the captive 
women finally managed to get away from the camp and 
tell their story, and although during all these years many 
prospectors have thoroughly hunted for it, the lost placer 
has never been found. This much is known: Wild plums 
grow in the north breaks of the river about a day's drift 
below Squaw Creek. As Keyser had lumber for sluice 
boxes, but no horses with which to transport the outfit, 
his find must have been on, or near, the river. There 
is no gold-bearing drift in the whole country, so his find 
must have been a local deposit by the ancient glaciers. 
Some day it will likely be found, and the lucky man will 
reap a fortune, for there is no question but what Keyser 
really struck rich diggings. According to all who knew 
him, he was a thoroughly reliable and truthful man. His 
old partner, later a cattle king, and who died only a 
year ago, staked many a man to look for the claim, so 
great was his faith that it might be found. 
In the days of Last Chance, Confederate Gulch and the 
other rich finds of the sixties, there was a constant pro- 
cession of miners on the road between Helena and Fort 
Benton on their way back to "the States." Nearly all had 
some dust, many of them small fortunes of the precious 
metal. Finding no steamboat at the head of navigation, 
they would start down the river in skiffs and craft of all 
kinds, regardless of the danger they incurred. New to 
the country, without experience in the wiles and ways of 
the Indians, many of these parties were ambushed by 
the savages, or shot down as they sat around their camp- 
fire. In 1867 one outfit which carried $80,000 in dust, was 
massacred by the Yanktonais, and they traded the whole 
sum to a northern half-breed for a couple of kegs of 
powder and a few sacks of trade balls. Mr. Joseph Kipp, 
James Arnoux and another whom we will call H., went 
down the river in a skiff that year. An hour or two 
before dark they always went ashore and had their even- 
ing meal, and then they would go on until absolute dark- 
ness overtook them, when they would camp on an island 
or in the thick brush without a fire, and in that way 
FOHEST AND STREAM. 
they got through safely. I must tell a little incident which 
happened to the party in Sioux City, for it is typical of the 
impatience and independence of the men of the plains. 
They arrived at the small town about noon, and when 
dinner was announced went into the hotel dining room 
with the crowd, taking their places at one of the small 
tables. They were dressed in worn buckskin, were long- 
haired, unshaven and unkempt, and the negro waiters 
seemed to think that the more respectably dressed guests 
" should be served first. So there they sat and sat, toy- 
ing with their knives and forks, and saw the other guests 
helped to meat, to all there was, and finally to pie. H. 
had repeatedly beckoned to a waiter who had charge of the 
next table, and presumably of the one they were at also, 
and each time he had replied, "Yes, sah. In just a minute, 
sah," but he never came near them. When H. saw the 
others helped to pie and finishing their meal, that was 
more than he cotdd stand. Rising and following the 
waiter into the kitchen, he drew and cocked both of his 
guns, and said, "Now, then, you black rascal, wait on 
us quick or I'll fill your old carcass with lead. Fill one 
of those trays with all the kinds of grub you've got and 
a pie for each of us, and rustle out with it. A pie apiece, 
mind you, and be quick." The trembling negro hastened 
to do as he was told, while the cook and others vacated 
the place by windows and doors. Probably that waiter 
filled the order quicker than one ever was filled anywhere 
before or since, and H. kept right at his back until the 
food was placed on the table, But even then, they were 
not destined to appease their appetites, for they had not 
near got to the pie before the proprietor of the hotel, the, 
town marshal, a sheriff and three constables came in and 
arrested H. for flourishing deadly weapons with intent to 
kill, and the others for aiding and abetting him. As Mr. 
Kipp expressed it. this "was duck soup for the adminis- 
trators of justice and the shyster lawyers." It cost the 
party $450 and two days' time to settle the matter. H. 
says that his only regret was that he didn't get to eat the 
pie. He hadn't seen any for ten years, and wanted it 
bad. .." 
Just below Squaw Creek, on the same side, begins a 
remarkably picturesque series of pine-crowned sandstone 
bluffs, which form the rim of the valley for a distance of 
eight or ten miles. When we arrived at Hornet Island, 
which is opposite the center of their length, we went 
ashore to look around a bit. This is no longer an island, 
except during the spring raise, the whole river having 
shifted to the north side, leaving a broad sandbar between 
it and the south shore. There was a large pool of water 
in the bar, however, about opposite the center of the 
island, and, as I expected, we found its margin all tracked 
up by both kinds of deer. There were also the more 
forked and stubby tracks of mountain sheep which had 
come down from the bluffs to quench their thirst. Well 
aware that our forequarters of the deer were about gone, 
at least such portions of it as we cared to eat, I proposed 
to replenish our larder here, and suggested to Sah-ne-to 
that it might be a good plan for her to drive the island. 
She objected, on the ground that there were likely two 
or three grizzlies lurking in its timbered recesses. We 
went down then the whole length of the bar, and having 
convinced her that no beast of prey larger than a coyote 
had crossed it, she concluded, it was safe enough, and 
entered the willows and timber. I hurried back to the 
upper end of the island and posted myself in the brush on 
the main shore near a well-beaten trail crossing the bar. 
Five, ten minutes passed, and then a red fox came off 
of the island and trotted directly toward me, stopping now 
and then to look back and listen. When he was within 
twenty feet of me I leaned out and said "Boo !" and how 
he did make the sand fly as he scurried for shelter. I 
could now hear Sah-ne-to shouting occasionally, and 
presently five deer burst out of the opposite brush and 
came spread out over the same trail the fox had. 
They also passed within twenty feet of the brush I was in, 
but never saw me. After a little Sah-ne-to appeared. 
"Why didn't you shoot him?" she asked. 
"I didn't see any 'him,' " I replied; "they were a" does 
and fawns." 
"Well," she continued, "there was also a buck. I saw 
him plainly, and he had a very large set of antle i ." 
We tried for an hour to get a shot at the old fellow, but 
he was too cute for us, circling back in the thick wil- 
lows every time. Maybe he had had some experience 
before in fleeing from the sound of a voice across an open 
sandbar. So we pushed out into the stream, and no 
doubt when he saw us passing he kicked up his heels and 
wiggled his tail and laid down for another snooze. 
We had been running north all the morning, making 
the balance of the twenty miles around the point opposite 
the Musselshel. At Hornet Island the river turns east- 
ward again, and a favorable wind having sprung up, we 
hoisted the sail and pulled in the oars. The next bend 
below the island on the north side is called Horseshoe 
Point, and is about a mile square. As we rounded the 
outer end of it there were two whitetail out on the shore, 
and the minute they say us, back they went into the 
timber. We ran ashore and found the sandbar all cut up 
by deer tracks, and taking the rifle, I slowly climbed the 
bank and walked back a short distance toward the bluffs. 
Not far, however, as the thick rosebrush was almost im- 
penetrable, and extended several feet above my head. 
Mounting a fallen log, I got a good view of the bottom. 
Except for a narrow belt of green timber fringing the 
shore, the whole flat was a tangle of burned and fallen 
trees, and grown up with the thickest, tallest rosebrush 
I ever saw. No doubt it harbored many deer, but I 
didn't want one of them bad enough to venture into the 
thickets. .Mornings and evenings, standing quietly any- 
where in the edge of the green belt, or back on the slope 
of the hills, one could not fail to get a piece of meat. 
Two miles below the point are Striped Bluff Rapids, so 
named from the peculiarly stratified cut wall along the 
south side of them. They are narrow and deep, and not 
particularly swift. After passing over them we went on 
about three miles further, and stopped on Elk Island 
for lunch. It is well timbered, nearly a mile long, and the 
old channel between it and the north shore has filled with 
sand. It was too large to be driven by one person, so 
we did not attempt it. There were a number of deer on 
it, as evidenced by their numerous tracks in the sand. 
I have seen other game here. Going down to Bismarck 
once, on the steamer Helena, we ran into a large herd 
of buffalo opposite the island. Several of us who were 
[April 5, xgel 
standing on the low bow of the boat, made some nooses 
of the ropes piled there, and tried to slip them over the 
heads of some of the animals we were running down. 
The hawsers were so heavy, however, that we couldn't 
handle them, and very likely if we had succeeded in 
roping one we would have had plenty of trouble on our 
hands, and the rope to pay for. The animals tried their 
best to keep out of the way, plunging and swimming 
frantically, but the flat-bottomed boat ran over a number 
without injurying them, apparently. I have often won- 
dered why the buffalo would persist in crossing and re- 
crossing this great river, when range and feed was as 
good on one side as on the other. And generally they 
seemed to select the worst places for doing so, milling 
around and around under high-cut banks until they 
drowned, or attempting to cross a quicksand only to mire 
down. In old times, in the days of Lewis and Clarke, for 
instance, more of them must have annually died in this 
manner, than from the arrows of all the tribes on the 
river. 
I told Sah-ne-to about trying to rope buffalo here from 
the bow of a steamboat, and the incident reminded her of 
an experience of her brother with the animals some- 
where on the river. With four others he started to raid 
the horse herds of the Yanktonais Sioux. The party was 
very small, and believing they were less likely to be dis- 
covered, they concluded to travel on the south side of the 
river until they passed the Musselshell. Night after night 
they kept traveling eastward, each morning repairing to 
l the timbered breaks and building a "war house" wherein 
to sleep and cook. After passing the Musselshell the 
partisan of the party, the leader and carrier of the "medi- 
cine," had a bad dream: "I can't say what is going to 
happen," he told the others, "but the medicine has warned 
me that there is danger ahead. Let us be extra cautious." 
That day, counciling together, they decided that it was 
time for them to recross the river, for they were now in 
the Yanktonais country and liable to run across a camp 
of them at any time. So, late in the afternoon, they 
cautiously descended into a timbered bottom and began 
to construct a small raft on which to pile their clothing 
and weapons. It was in early summer, and the river 
was very high and running swiftly. They were some 
little time collecting the material, and the sun was just 
setting when they pushed out into the stream, each one 
holding to the raft and kicking with all his might to pro- 
pel it toward the other shore. The swift current, how- 
ever, was sweeping into the south shore, and in spite of 
their best endeavors they could not force the raft across 
if, so there was no alternative but to drift along and 
wait until it should carry them to the opposite side. 
Down around the bend they went, and suddenly found 
themselves bearing into a herd of buffalo swimming the 
river. They were so close that it was too late to forsake 
the raft and attempt to swim ashore, for they were now 
out in midstream. All four of them swung around to 
the south side of the raft and bore down on it, raising 
the opposite side as much as they could as a sort of bar- 
rier. In among the swimming animals they floated, such 
a dense mass of them that the water could hardly be 
seen. The frail logs bumped and rubbed against them, 
but they scarcely deviated from their course; they could 
not, so closely were they crowding each other. Those 
coming on toward the raft also struck it, and tried to paw 
and climb upon it, snorting and blowing, and others be- 
hind crowding on caused great confusion, the stronger 
ones thrusting the smaller under the surface, and once in 
a while one of these would bob up under the men, who 
could only kick and shout, and splash the water in their 
endeavors to frighten the animals away. The buffalo 
were as scared as the men, and more than one of them 
lunged at the raftsmen viciously, and several times nearly 
impaled one on their sharp horns. The continual bumping 
and crowding of the animals against the logs kept forcing 
the raft back toward the south shore, and after a little 
it grounded on a bar. Then the Indians stood behind 
it and picking up some of their clothing, shirts or leggins, 
swung them frantically, and the buffalo, striking the 
shallow water, rushed by on either side, giving them as 
wide a berth as possible. In a little while all had passed, 
and then the party once more shoved out and reached the 
other shore without further trouble. 
"See now," the partisan said, "how faithful our medi- 
cine; it warned us of this danger we have just passed 
through. I believe it is a good omen; we will be suc- 
cessful." 
And they were. A few days later they stampeded over 
a hundred head of the enemy's horses and brought them 
safely home. Appektjnny, 
"American Duck Shooting." 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Have just finished reading George Bird Grinnell's 
"American Duck Shooting," and find it the most in- 
teresting, instructive and valuable book on the subject I 
have ever seen. 
I have followed the flight of the wildfowl since I was 
old enough to hold a gun. I have shot in Texas, Iowa> 
on the Kankakees, on the Jersey coast, all over the 
Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries, at one time for pleas- 
ure, then for market, but more often with parties to, care 
for. Now, as the end dfaws nearer, will wind it all up 
here on the Chincoteague Bay. So you can see that 
when I speak of the book I speak as one fully com- 
petent to pass an opinion. 
The book is well written, and the subjects are handled 
by those who have been accurate observers. As I read, I 
find little descriptions of the movements of the wild- 
fowl, their flight, how they work, the erratic upward or 
downward dart; things I have seen myself from the 
point, the pass, the blind and the battery; things that 
I know to be exact, but had supposed no one else ob- 
served or thought of afterward. 
All who have seen the book here will add it to their 
libraries. Every one who shoots ducks, if only two or 
three da}'s in a year, should own a copy of "American 
Duck Shooting."* 
I have just closed a most successful season, and al- 
though we lost nearly seven weeks, by reason of ice and 
storms, the open time has paid for all. 
O. D. Foulks, 
Stockton, Md., March 29. 
