May II, 1912 
FOREST AND STREAM 
591 
Across the Plains in Early Days 
I N the early morning, before the sun had risen 
and while the plain was one vast sea of fog, I 
crawled out of bed without awakening John 
and tramped off up the timber. The fog was too 
dense to admit of seeing anything distinctly a 
few feet away, but I plodded on. All at once 
there was a mighty thrashing among the short 
bushes close alongside of me and two shadowy 
figures sped away into the mist. There, not 
twenty feet from where I had stood, was the 
distinct outline in the wet grass of an animal’s 
form and the ground was warm from its body. 
I had no doubt that it was an¬ 
other deer, and I formed a second 
exceedingly discreditable opinion 
of my abilities as a hunter. I 
then crept along at a snail’s pace, 
for perhaps eight rods, when I 
espied a shadowy outline of a 
large animal. I dropped, took 
steady aim and fired, my nerves 
true as steel. The shadow disap¬ 
peared and I went back to camp. 
After breakfast John and I went 
together up the wood, and ten 
rods beyond where I shot lay a 
handsome doe, dead, but yet 
warm, shot through the lungs. 
The incident of the morning 
produced a complete revulsion of 
feeling, and I must have made a 
first class nuisance of myself, 
bragging about my shot. John 
was quite tolerant and let me pat¬ 
ter on, thinking, I suppose, that 
it would relieve my pent-up emo¬ 
tions, which it did. After break¬ 
fast, however, when we went up 
to skin the animal and get a nice 
fresh venison steak for dinner, my 
emotions took another turn, and 
I was almost sorry that I had made the shot. 
As I have stated, the creature was a doe, and 
when we came to investigate, we discovered that 
she was doubtless a young mother. The thought 
of a little, soft-eyed, innocent fawn starving to 
death as a result of my recklessness was any¬ 
thing but pleasant. “Why didn’t I wait till I 
could see what I was about and then select a 
buck?” was a question that would suggest it¬ 
self to me. In the dense fog I could not even 
see that I was shooting at a deer. I might have 
killed a valuable pony had we been in proximity 
of a camp of travelers, and for all that I knew 
there were such camps all around us. I made 
a firm resolve that I would exercise more care 
in the future. 
The animal was not in good condition and the 
steaks, although tender, were dry and insipid. 
At the time of our visit to Southwestern Kansas 
the bottom lands and adjacent plains were liter¬ 
ally swarming during certain seasons of the 
year with deer and antelope, while buffalo in 
countless numbers roved between the upper and 
lower grazing grounds. I have often wondered 
why the Government did not take preservative 
By SAMUEL MANSFIELD STONE 
{Continued from last week.) 
measures for these species of royal game. I 
do not know but there may have been some 
general legislation touching the subject, but noth¬ 
ing that ever proved effectual. Large hunting 
parties of both American and European sports¬ 
men (so-called) were wont to rove over those 
plains during the succeeding ten years, killing 
vast numbers of animals for the mere sake of 
slaughter. I recall a statement made by a party 
of Londoners to the effect that they had “killed 
over 300 buffalo” during a single trip through 
their feeding grounds. These animals were left 
AN INDIAN WEDDING PARTY 60 O MILES FROM RAILROAD. 
Photo by Rev. Arthur Santmier. 
where they fell, though their hides were then 
worth from eight to twelve dollars apiece in N'ew 
York. To-day the buffalo is extinct, save for a 
few semi-domesticated herds, and the deer and 
antelope are numbered by dozens where thou¬ 
sands formerly roamed. 
We broke camp immediately after the midday 
meal and galloped steadily for four hours in a 
southeasterly direction. When we halted for the 
night there was plainly visible from the summit 
of the little bluff beside which we camped what 
appeared like the ocean at a distance. We knew, 
however, that this was the great fog bank which 
rose nightly from the valley of the Arkansas. 
The following morning, after the sun had dis¬ 
pelled the mists, the broad timber belt, with 
here and there a glint of silvery white, lay be¬ 
fore us like a vast and indescribably beautiful 
panorama. The intervening plain was more 
thickly verdured than that section through which 
we had traveled, and the dark purple of the 
buffalo grass blending into the vast sea of green 
beyond made a picture at once pleasing and rest¬ 
ful. Shortly before i o’clock we halted for 
dinner on the outskirts of a great cottonwood 
forest, the fringe of the Arkansas timber lands. 
We had been warned about camping alone too 
near the wood, because of the big timber wolves 
which, though cowardly and undemonstrative in 
summer, might make things unpleasant for the 
horses. Feeling that I had ventured westward 
a sufficiently long distance, I consented to ac¬ 
company John for a few days; at least, on his 
journey toward Arkansas City. Hence, after 
eating and giving the ponies an opportunity to 
crop their fill of buffalo grass, we took up our 
route to the eastward, skirting the timber at 
a distance of a couple of miles, 
thus escaping the ravages of the 
gnats and mosquitoes which in¬ 
fested the regions of shadow. 
As we rode along we laid plans 
as follows: We would continue 
on our way till we found a favor¬ 
able camping place, where grass 
was abundant for the ponies, and 
the water was plenty and of drink¬ 
able quality; then we would re¬ 
build our rubber blanket tent and 
put in a week or two hunting, and 
if so inclined, fishing. On the 
second day of our eastward tour 
we came to a rippling stream of 
very clear water at the bottom of 
an alder and wild plum-fringed 
ravine. It being Saturday, we 
determined to make camp there 
over Sunday at least, as I was un¬ 
able to reconcile my ideas of 
right with Sunday traveling, es¬ 
pecially when no need existed for 
such action. 
The sides of the ravine were 
steep and slippery, and it was 
with difficulty that we could urge 
our ponies over the brink. Skee- 
zik ventured first, and finding himself slipping, he 
sat upon his haunches and slid to the bottom. 
John’s horse, possessing more dignity, attempted 
to walk down diagonally, but met with indifferent 
success. He floundered along till about half way 
down, when he became hopelessly stuck in the 
soft earth. John was compelled to dismount, 
and hanging on with one hand, unloosened the 
saddle girth and relieved the animal of its load, 
after which it managed to extricate itself and 
finally reached the bottom, very muddy and de¬ 
moralized. The bed of the ravine was hard and 
pebbly, the stream taking up but a small portion 
of its width. We rode up stream perhaps an 
eighth of a mile when we came to a branch which 
cut in obliquely, rising gradually for two or 
three rods, where it broadened into a little, al¬ 
most level plateau, with an almost perpendicular 
wall of limestone on one side and an equally 
precipitous wall of earth on the other, out of 
which cropped a broad vein of bituminous coal. 
To our great surprise in a niche in the lime¬ 
stone wall, which seemed especially designed for 
its purpose, was a tiny log hut or shack, built 
close to the wall which overhung and guarded it. 
