286 
FOREST AND STREAIVi. 
'[Oct. 7, 1905. 
The Uneasy Club Goes Through Fire 
With the approach of fall the Uneasy Club, true to 
traditions and its name, “gets busy.” Each member, a 
self-appointed committee on promotion and ' ways and 
means, may be found “rubbering” about gun stores and 
railroad offices in quest of rates and quotations on shells 
by the case in feverish anticipation. 
“Why don’t you fellows take a private car?” asked a 
certain passenger agent. 
“What for?” asked Bill.- 
“Oh, just to be luxurious and take it easy,” replied the 
agent. 
“What! the Uneasy Club taking things easy? Not on 
your life. We’d walk if we had time.” 
“I see,” replied' the agent. “Advocates of the simple 
life.” 
Little did the passenger agent dream that his sugges- 
tion would be the cause of smashing an arbitrary rate, 
or how well he guessed that we were advocates of sim- 
plicity in a way. 
In ten minutes a telegram tO' George, who* was in 
Omaha, was on the wires to this effect: “Get rates to 
C. on car emigrant movables. If less than passenger rate 
for party, engage team and driver. Wire answer.” 
His reply reading, “Splendid idea, $43. Come on” was 
received in less than an hour. 
The following day found the party in Omaha outfitting, 
and on the next morning they drove to the depot with 
the “emigrant movables,” consisting of four members of 
the Uneasy Club, the driver and team, three dogs, shell 
cases, grub boxes, gun cases and trunks, two folding 
boats and a tent. ' 
On account of the writer’s personal appearance, which 
presumably suggested the proverbial farmer, he was de- 
legated to do business with the agent, who was evidently 
impressed. He agreed, however, to forward our “private 
car” (which was numbered instead of named, and posted 
with the information . that it was “38 feet inside, air 
brake, C. & B. coupler, capacity 40,000 pounds”) at 2 
o’clock on a train of empty stock cars bound for C. 
direct, on a fast schedule. 
When in answer to the question as to “who would be 
in charge of the live stock?” I replied “Myself and boys.” 
It dawned on me that if the “boys,” a part of whom I 
had figured as live stock, should be inspected, our “pri- 
vate car” would likely be more exclusive than , we had 
planned ; but the agent was a busy man, and fortunately 
we were not closely inspected. 
We hurried the loading and then went to a good din- 
ner, the last we should have, with modern conveniences, 
for a month; boarded our car and were soon on the way 
as happy as any millionaire ever could be in his palace 
on wheels. 
With the exception of a dog fight no incident occurred 
to mar a pleasant (but somewhat rough) trip. We ar- 
rived at our destination ready for an outing and a hunt 
we shall never forget, as a few of the following incidents 
related will show. 
By way of introducing the reader to what we consider 
the greatest ducking ground on the continent, let it be ' 
known that a thousand miles from St. Louis, and half 
that distance from Omaha, the Uneasy Club may be 
found almost any October, where, nestled among the 
sandy buttes or rolling hills are to be found hundreds of 
lakes and thousands of waterfowl. To a person un- 
familiar with cainp life or fired’ 'shooting, this territory, 
where one may travel for days;, and never see. a tree, 
might be considered God forsaken; but with us who have 
learned to love it, even with its drawbacks and terrors, 
our feeling can be compared only with the sailor’s love 
for the boundless sea. ■ ' ■ 
At an altitude of between 3,000 and 4,000 feet the air 
is so pure and invigorating thqt.an outing of a month, 
as we usually take it, puts life into us for the other 
eleven, barring the fever that seizes us before the next 
October. ■ 
With anticipated pleasures and no thought of the perils 
in store for us, we pulled out of C. soon after sunrise 
and were slowly wdnding our .way through the sandy 
trails, to the north. Perched on the overturned wagon, 
with a tent-poke and about a square yard of canvas at- 
tached, George began to make the situation humorous 
wffien he waved his banner and shouted, “Victory!” 
Bob sat on the pole and laughed just as he did once, 
when we were kicked out of the boat on the St. Francis 
into the ice water, and now that the situation was re- 
versed, and we were nearly roasted, his mirth and 
George’s nerve in proclaiming victory, were more than 
Burt and Bill could stand. 
“What was it General Sherman said war was?” Bill 
inquired. 
“Same as a prairie fire,” answered Burt. 
“Well, this is h — ,” remarked Bill, stroking his face 
where a full beard had been, but was now about the con- 
sistency of the proverbial singed cat, even to the odor. 
The above picture may not appeal to the hunters of 
the' East or South as possible or. probable, but we warn 
you, when you make a trip overland in the sa.nd hills, 
do not disregard the possibilities of a western prairie fire, 
which, if you have seen, you must admit is the grandest 
and most terrifying thing imaginable. 
■yyilhobt the loss of dignity or a dislike to “butt in,” yoq 
may' well ask a native driver what he would do in case 
of a fire, and he would likely tell you as one did us, that 
he would “start a fire and follow it.” Simple, yes; and 
reassuring, too, after you have ridden miles and miles 
through nothing but dry grass and shuddered at the 
thought of the possibilities of a conflagration. 
Up to this time we had never encountered a prairie 
fire, though we had seen one from a safe place to wind- 
ward while on our way from camp to town several years 
before, when nearly a hundred square miles of grass 
burned off in a remarkably short space of time, and only 
stopped when it reached the banks of the Niobrara, many 
miles south of where it had started. 
No doubt the reader has met the party who nearly 
ruined our sport; one of those, crowds of would-be 
“sports,” with borrowed guns, new hunting coats, the 
kind that rattle, and whose supply of whiskey usually 
equals in weight that of the shells. They carelessly 
started the fire, which luckily stopped at the spread of 
Hay Creek and the adjoining lake, where we were to 
camp. 
We had driven over twenty miles from the railroad 
and had unloaded our camp stuff. Bob and Bill with the 
driver had taken the team to a ranch well two miles dis- 
tant, where they filled the water casks and were on their 
W'ay back to camp. They had made about half the dis- 
tance on the return trip when the driver remarked that 
“something must be doing,” as the ducks were massing 
in Big Alkali ahead of them, and as he spoke he turned 
and glanced back with a look of alarm. Being in a small 
ravine or draw at the time, he swung his team to the left 
and headed for the highest point in the locality instead 
of keeping the trail. It was apparent, on reaching the 
summit of the hill, that they were in the path of a 
prairie fire. 
“Hang on and don’t fall out,” shouted the driver, lash- 
ing his team into a dead run, with his passengers holding 
on to the kegs, which were dancing about as they rattled 
and bumped along, the driver still yelling and whipping 
his team into a runaway. 
Smoke could now be seen on three sides of the flying 
team. On account of the peculiar lay of the land the 
now terror-stricken hunters had no time to put into exe- 
cution the scheme of firing ahead and following the fire. 
Their only chance was to run for carnp, and if they ar- 
rived in time, take to the water. 
On they rushed and back of them reared the flames, 
preceded by a bunch of stampeded cattle, bellowing, 
snorting and fairly tearing up the trail in their mad rush 
for the creek. 
A hundred yards from camp was a small towhead, and 
as the team flew up to it or by it the driver jerked the 
runaway horses sharply to the left, which was too much 
for the wagon, and over it went, spilling the passengers 
and water casks in confusion into the sandy trail, which, 
fortunately, _ was not hard. In the up-set. the off horse 
went down in a tangle of harness, its mate plunging wild- 
ly, trying to pull tne whole wreck to the creek. 
Bob sat on the head of the prostrate animal while Bill 
clung to. the bridle of its frightened mate, the driver 
rushing in behind the team, and in danger of being 
kicked, succeeded in pulling the double tree pir. and un- 
hooking one tug; then with an urgent kick to the fallen 
horse and a slap and a yell at the other they flew through 
the smoke, which w'as now stifling and blinding, as it 
swept around the hill. 
Along with the frightened jack rabbits, skunks and a 
pair of slinking coyotes, which seemed the only crea- 
tures not panic-stricken but looking for other trouble than 
the fire, the hunters dashed after the flying team and the 
cattle, which had joined- them — all were floundering 
through the bull rushes trying to reach open water. 
The heavy roar and crakle of the fire as it pitched and 
rolled over the last hill was terrifying to every living 
thing, as it meant certain death to- those caught in its 
consuming flame. Thoroughly blinded and choking the 
party of hunters, having abandoned guns, supplies, and, 
in fact, everything but the desire to beat death in the race 
with the fire, a scorching wave of flame enveloping them, 
fell face down in the water not a second too soon. With 
the sizzle' of exposed hair and beards and the s'narting of 
many burns they disappeared under water, where they 
remained as long as possible. 
Heads popped up finally to catch a breath only to find 
the smoke so thick they could neither see nor breathe, 
and Bill, losing his balance, fell forward into a mass of 
tangled reeds and nearly drowned in regaining a footing. 
Gradually the smoke lifted and the men were permitted, 
after rubbing their eyes nearly out, to look upon a 
strange sight. Out in the open water stood the team and 
the cattle, the horses with rat-tails and missing manes. 
On a muskrat house a little' to the rif^ht were the pair of 
coyotes sitting on their haunches, quietly but suspicious- 
ly watching the fire victims. - 
George, in terror, was backing around throwing shells 
at a skunk which was swimming entirely too close to him 
for comfort. A jack rabbit that had floundered up had 
caught its forefeet in the pocket of Bill’s hunting coat 
and kicked and struggled to climb out of the water. Its 
ears laid back on its neck, drenched, still frightened, it 
was anything but the fleet animal it is pictured. Taking 
the animal by the ears Bill raised him out of the water, 
intending to throw him toward the bank, at the same 
(iirie fein^rl^jpg : “(jet gpt of the road let some- 
body swim that can”; and as he gave the jack a mighty 
swing it slipped and struck Burt full in the chest, knock- 
ing him “down and out,” at least he went out of sight 
under water for the second time. 
It was then that Bob started to laugh, and George, who 
seemed to be a shining mark for all disagreeable things, 
set up a yell, “Look out for the snake!” and began a 
hasty retreat for shore, all of his companions following 
hirti. On reaching shore we found the canvas of the tent, 
which was about to be raised when the fire came, burned 
up completely except for the piece George had waved, on 
a scorched pole. Otherwise our supplies, packed in boxes, 
were not badly damaged. Why a can of gasolene which 
was among the supplies did not explode and ruin the 
whole outfit is still a mystery. . .- 
Knowing that the papers would report the prairie fire, 
it was decided to send the driver to Anson’s ranch at 
once to wire and telephone that our party had not per- 
ished, and at the same time to secure a tent. 
Having rounded up the horses and untangled the wreck 
of harness, which happened, however, not to be beyond 
repair, the driver was soon on his way over the black- 
ened trail to the ranch. 
George had been shedding his wet clothing, until, with 
a disregard for appearances, we all did the same, and 
were rivaling the Iggarote in costume. The comparison 
to those dog-eating savages was complete when George 
pulled from the grub box a sausage nearly two feet long 
and asked, “Will anybody have some dog?” 
An hour or more was spent lounging in the warm sun- 
.shine and sand. It had been decided not to do any hunt- 
ing until camp had been made, ship-shape. This could 
not be completed until the return of the wagon with a 
tent or something for a shelter. Wishing, however, to 
take a look at Big Alkali, a large open lake, where all 
the ducks from the fire-swept smaller ponds seemed to 
have swarmed ahead of the fire, we were soon climbing 
the large hill just across the creek from our camp, carry- 
ing field-glasses and a small rifle. When we reached the 
crest, which commanded a good view of the surrounding 
country, a sight never to be forgotten lay before us. In 
the open water of this lake, which is a half-mile wide 
and a mile in length, and along the south and east shore 
to nearly the middle of the lake, the water was simply 
completely covered with ducks, while hundreds in the air 
were wheeling about for an opening in which to light. 
The view through the glasses of this vast throng of 
wildfowl is simply indescribable. Thousands, perhaps 
millions of birds were seen at a glance; it held us almost 
spell-bound. 
On the near shore, which was a sandy beach, were hun- 
dreds of waders, yellow-legs and “teeters” by the drove, 
and many more uncommon birds such as avocets, willets, 
curlew and herons, great and small. 
The members of the Uneasy Club have hunted, as a 
party or individually, from the lakes and marshes along 
the St. Lawrence, on Long Island Sound and the Jersey 
coast to the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, and from 
Manitoba into Old Mexico; but up to this time, in the 
year 1904, never had they seen so beautiful a sight, from 
a sportsman’s viewpoint. 
Not content with watching the birds idly ride the 
waves, we must see them rise, so with an automatic rifle, 
half a dozen shells were fired into the mass of birds, 
which were between a quarter and a half-mile away. The 
elevation of the gun must have been nearly right, for in 
a second or two after the “spitt, spitt” of the exploding 
shells, an island seemed to rise from the lake with a 
thundering roar that could be heard for miles. Not a 
third of the birds rose, however, and from time to time 
others would be startled and again the thunder of waving 
wnigs and splashing water would roll from one side of 
tlie valley to the other. 
Seated on the crest of the hill we seemed satisfied to 
gaze by the hour at this unusual show of game, as the 
ducks rose or settled back into the water. It was late in 
the afternoon when the birds, hungry, no doubt, seemed 
to be leaving in small flocks for some of the rice-covered 
marshes, which abound in the locality, to feed. 
As the sun sank behind the western hills amid golden- 
crimson clouds of glorious sight to the music of whist- 
ling- wings of the mallards far over head, or the whirring 
rush and roar of a bunch of teal as they skimmed the 
brow of the hill on their way to supper, we started back 
to camp. By way of a good night a coyote howled from, 
a di.stant hill, and a pair of blue herons, situated against 
the crimson sky, fanned their great wings and squeaked 
as we began the descent to camp and to supper. Indeed 
we had enjoyed a glorious day’s sport with scarcely the 
firing of a gun. 
That evening, while we ■ were lounging about camp, 
plans were laid for the next day, when we expected to 
have good sport, as it was no question of birds, for we 
had seen them. : 
The conversation, however, led up to an argument 
about the duck supply. One was of the opinion that 
there were as many ducks at present as there were 
earlier. Another referred him to conditions prevailing 
in the Mississippi and Missouri valleys which could in 
no way be compared to a period of twenty-Jive years 
earlier, when ducks were everywhere. Then the member 
\yho studied the matter^ but who was npt jnqijned to 
