f 
Vol, \-I. No. 19. 1 
New Series— No. 96. ( 
SATURDAY, 
AUGUST 14, 187g. 
1 Eatablislied A, D. 1871. 
1 $4.00 a year, lOe. a copy. 
' " 
A NIGHT S ADVENTURE. 
BY II. B. 
The phases of camp life among the wilds of the Far 
West are varied, and, as in other occupations, each 
phase has its dark clouds and hazes, its little rays of 
sun-shine, and days of genial tranquility. Lazily loung- 
ing in the shelter of a tent, alternately dozing and fight- 
ing horse-flies, grows to be monotonous after a time; 
but then this kind of emploj’ment does not last always, 
for once in a while camp ^must be moved, while other 
duties connected with the objects of the expedition 
need their attention. Thus in the cool of the morning, 
and at eve, when the sinking sun throws |the grateful 
shadows of the mountains across the valleys, the nat- 
uralist sallies forth to bottle bugs, cull herbs, or shoot 
game, (according to the science he happens to repi'esent;) 
and the elTect which these sorties produce upon the vari- 
ety and bulk of his collection justifies a few lazy hours 
when it would be torture to walk or ride about, exposed 
to the hot sun reflected from the sands of the valleys, 
or the volcanic rocks of the mountains. And then, too, 
if he can relieve the tediousness of stajdng in-doors by 
picking tarantulas, centipedes and scorpions out of his 
blankets, and hunting around for a club with which to 
dislodge a too-neigbborly rattlesnake. But these, the 
disagreeable occupations of camp-life, are soon gotten 
used to, and are more than compensated for by the 
mingled pleasures attendant upon a trip into the moun- 
tains — the study of varying rock-forms, the contempla- 
tion of natural flower beds around fields of eternal snow, 
shtmmcring heat and summer vegetation below and 
fanned by the cool winds wafted from the wintry peaks; 
the vigor imparted by the exercise of riding or climb- 
ing, the health imbibed with every breath of the pure, 
clastic mountain air, and the boundless view presented 
after the summit is reached ; while each such trip yields 
some addition to the naturalist’s collection. 
Camp-life pictured thus, aside from its pleasing fea- 
tures, appears common-place enough indeed, but often 
does the returned wanderer think over in his reveries 
some episode in his experience, which has come before 
his memory more like a dream than the recollection of 
a jiast reality. The adventure which we are about to 
relate is not a tale of thrilling adventure or hair-breadth 
escape, but a simple narrative of the hardships of 
fatigue and exposure endured by a boy of sixteen, the 
only lad in a party of hardy explorers. It was his first 
season in the field, and many things connected with 
field-work were new to him. Especially, he hadn’t got 
used to mules yet, at least not the bucking broncox in so 
1 general use westward of the Rocky Mountains. He had 
some experience with them, but ,this time he had a 
“new” one, and hadn’t got all his “points” yet. But to 
i begin at the beginning: 
He and his comardes had been sojourning for a while 
!, at Pyramid Lake, in Western Nevada, and the occasion 
i of their return to the main camp, some twenty five up 
j the river, furnishes the theme for this story. All were 
I congregated at the house of the Agent at the Piute 
■ Reservation, and, having descended the river in a boat, 
] after a perilous passage of rapids and eddies, they found 
I it necessary to engage horses and mules to transport 
them and their luggage back again, the swiftness of 
the current in the river preventing the possibilily of re- 
turning in the same manner by which they had come. 
After the necessary preliminaries of loading the apar- 
\ (ijox of the pack-mules with-their luggage, and saddling 
the animals they were to ride, the word was given to 
! start. At the signal, under some unaccountable im- 
^ pulse the animals stampeded, sending tin pans, kettles, 
photographic apparatus and stuffed birds, clattering 
A hrough the air, as they chased the jack rabbits through 
the sage-brush, while the riding animals partaking of 
the excitement, became exceedingl}' frisky, especially 
the one upon which our hero was mounted. Bowing 
his back like a dromedaries hump, he commenced a 
series of gymnastics w'hich were wonderful to behold. 
!Most remarkable was the elasticity of his spring, and 
solid the suddenness of his return to mother earth, as 
he humped himself and leaped [into the sky, coming 
down again with his kness so stiff that it bounded him 
half-way back again; and these antics were accompan- 
ied by such agonizing contortions of his tail that the 
rider grew nervous, and at the first opportunity dis- 
mounted, which he managed to do by standing straight 
up in the air with one foot each side of the mule’s ears, 
and descending heels up, the ground sustaining a seri- 
ous bruise from the violent contact with his shoulder 
Too much discouraged to remount the same charger, he 
immediately commenced hunting about for another 
steed, as the day w^as far advanced and the distance to 
be traveled great. But there was not another “animal” 
on the Reservation, so he mu.st either forgive and trust 
him, or must foot it. The latter proposition was unan- 
imously adopted, for it was in vain that the bystanders 
suggested that the critter was just merely testing his 
powers for endurance preparatory to starting; that a 
bad beginning made a good ending, etc. Oh, no ! he 
didn’t care about riding; he felt the need of a little 
pedestrian exercise ; in fact he wanted to shoot game 
on the way back, so he would walk, just for the fun of 
it. His companions expostulated in vain, for it was 
then three o’clock in the afternoon, and the distance 
above twenty-five miles by the nearest route. So after 
being advised to follow the Indian trail through the 
river bottoms instead of taking the road over the mesa, 
on account of itsjbeing shorter and cooler, he started, 
having no companion but a double-barreled gun, a clear 
conscience and an intrepid heart. The parting injunc- 
tion from his [companions was that incase he should 
reach camp first, he should cut a way through the wil- 
low thicket across the ford, in order to enable them to 
get easily through with the pack train. Then with an 
“ All right” and “So long” he stepped confidently for- 
ward on his journey, and was soon from their sight. 
At first he strolled leisurely along, not regarding the dis- 
tance that lay between him and camp, and not think- 
ing how little of the day was left, until darkness 
came upon him and found him tracing the trail more 
by touch than by sight. Ere long it grew so very dark 
that nothing could be discerned but the indistinct out- 
line of the cottonwoods against the dull, dark sk}', 
while no sounds were heard but the rippling of the 
water along the banks of the river, and the rustling of 
the wind in the tree-tops, varied now and then by the 
hoarse hooting of the great horned owl, or the melan- 
choly complainings of the poor-will. Progression 
grew after awhile to be next to impossible, and for 
hours he groped through the bushes onlj' knowing that 
he was headed in the right direction, and that each step 
forward lessened the interval between him and camp; 
but he was also aware that in his uncertain meanderings 
near one-half the steps taken in the last few hours were 
wasted. He was very thirsty, too, but when he tried 
to find the river he was startled by the rushing of the 
swift current near him, but it was hid in total dark- 
ness and could not safelj' be approached. For the first 
time he stopped, almost in despair, and stood to listen 
and consider. Away off in the distance, but on the 
other side of the river, flickered the light of an Indian 
encampment, but it w as beyond hailing distance, and 
inaccessible on account of the intervening stream. At 
last, oh, joy! the darkness had become perceptibly less 
intense, and in the eastern horizon the increasing trans- 
parency told him that the moon would soon rise to shed 
her light upon his path, and then he could regain the 
trail! Patiently he waited for her to come to his aid, 
but how long the time seemed until there was sufficient 
light to unfold the surroundings to view ! He had halted 
at the verge of a broad meadow, bounded on the left 
by the line of trees and accompanying undergrowth 
along the river, and on the right by the steep bluffs 
which formed the front of the mesa. The grass upon 
the meadow had been cut by the Indians, but it yet lay 
on the ground in scattered heaps. He had just con- 
cluded this preliminary survey, w-hen a stealthy step in 
. (COXXLUDED ON PAGE 297.) 
FROM CARL DITTMAR. 
In last issue Rod and Gun “ Ex-Gun maker ” writes 
about my powder. He has used rifle powder which 
was expressl}' made for short range and not for Creed- 
moor rifles. If he had used a Shaips or Remington 
sporting rifle with the cartridge for 70 grains blanck 
powder, he would have obtained much better results, 
and I wish he would do so and give his results again in 
your paper. The 40 grains of the powder which he 
got fill up the shell, and if he put the bullet in, the 
pow-der is pressed and would shoot inaccurate. From 
my experience I found that my poivder must be loaded 
just as black powder, so that it is not pressed down by 
the bullet. A charge of 38 grains of the same powder 
would shoot more accurate. He will find that a charge 
of the same powder in a short range rifle will show- less 
strain than any black powder, and it will never work in 
a long range rifle so as to eat out the rifling, although 
the strain at the breech is greater than from the proper 
pow-der for long range. I pledge my word of honor 
that I never have sent, and never will send, powder for 
sporting purposes which should have the slightest trace 
of nitro-glycerine in its composition. To do me jus- 
tice, I wish he would make the following trial with my 
powder, which he may buy at some other place, as a 
sample which I could send him maj- be supposed to be 
made expressly for that trial : If he takes an old Spring- 
field muzzle-loading rifle (if he has none I will send one 
to him) and charges it with five, ten, fifteen and twenty 
drachms measure of m)- powder, three wads on top of 
powder, and from three to six charges shot. I failed to 
burst one with that charge, and I am at a loss to know 
how the guns have been bursted that had been recorded 
as injured or bursted. The only cause of a burst can 
be, if one shoots first with only a wad on top of powder 
without shot; then the powder does not explode, and 
the wad remains in the barrel near the inuzzle. The 
next shot may be done with shot, and if the wad has 
not been removed, the gun would burst in nine out of 
ten cases. In a muzzle-loader this would be impossible, 
and I doubt that a muzzle-loader can burst, even if my 
powder is used against my rules. If one wants to try 
my powder, he had better use first my rifle powder, 
which is very slow, and of which he must use more in 
bulk. Some prefer the quicker kind, and some the 
slower, which fills the cartridge better. Four drachms 
is a good charge for a twelve-bore for my rifle powder, 
two wads on top of powder — two sizes larger than the 
bore for brass shells, and one size larger for paper 
shells. For the shot-gun powder, from three to three 
and a half drachms is sufficient ; in some guns the 
smaller charge works best. If one has a complaint 
against my powder, I wish he would come out in Rod 
AND Gun and tell exactly all the circumstances, so that I 
may explain, or learn by it, and that others may be 
warned. So far, I am convinced that if my rules are 
observed, accidents will not happen. 
Carl Dittmar. 
Neponset, Mass., August 9. 
