[April 20, 1907. 
6 lO 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
young Crows did the same. By daylight we had 
breakfasted. The chiefs had assembled to see 
us off, and I asked them if they knew where 
we might find the Gros Ventres. They replied 
that we would find them either south or east 
of, and near to, the Bear Paw Mauntains. I 
told them that we should try to get them to go 
to Benton if we could do so. It was amusing 
to Jack and to me to listen to the chiefs as they 
gave us advice about traveling, just as if neither 
of us had had any experience. Though it was 
not needed, we took their advice in good part. 
We paid the women for the grass and started. 
When we left the village, the war dance was 
in progress in one part; and, in another, per¬ 
sons who had lost relations were mutilating 
themselves, cutting off their fingers or punctur¬ 
ing their legs and heads with the point of a 
knife, making the blood flow freely, and, as 
they did this, wailing and mourning the loss of 
friends and relatives in the fight. Jack, whose 
horses were good to lead, had saddled his mule. 
When we started on the backtrack, we kept 
east of our old trail. We apprehended little 
danger of meeting Sioux, Cheyennes or 
Arapahoes, and we did not at all regard the 
other Blackfoot war parties. 
We made a bee line for the mouth of the 
Musselshell River and got there at 9 A. M. next 
•day, for Jack knew every foot of the country. 
No Indian signs were visible. We collected 
some dry poles, bound them together with wil¬ 
low twigs, put all our property on the raft, tied 
riatas to the end of it, and mounting, drove the 
stock across the river, keeping hold of the ends 
of the ropes. The horses were good swim¬ 
mers, and soon had the raft across. After the 
horses had been rubbed down, saddled and 
packed, we mounted and were off. Not many 
minutes were occupied in accomplishing the 
crossing. We had no time to waste, for the 
Indians might be upon us at any moment. 
We now made a bee line for the Little Rocky 
Mountains, and when we came to a creek called 
Poshett, which rises on the south side of the 
Rockies, we began to see carcasses of the 
buffalo in different places. The meat had been 
taken off, and a careful inspection showed that 
the buffalo had not been slain more than five 
or six days. As we followed up the creek there 
were more signs that a run had recently been 
made. 
We had traveled fast that day, and when we 
reached a cluster of box elder trees with good 
grass, we determined to remain there that night, 
unless some hostiles should come and veto our 
intention. Before unpacking we looked over 
the surrounding country for signs of village 
smoke, and. discovering nothing, we cooked, 
feasted, and kept our live stock on the best of 
grass, all the while keeping a good lookout. 
We had breakfast before daylight next morn¬ 
ing, packed up and were off. Following up the 
creek we struck a lodge pole trail going east, 
between the two Little Rockies. After it had 
passed the buttes, the trail bore to the left, go¬ 
ing north, and now we saw fresh pony tracks, a 
sure sign that the village was not far off. Be¬ 
fore us lay a plateau, and beyond that was 
Beaver Creek, where we found the Gros Ventre 
village. We had been discovered before we got 
near it, being met outside the village by Famasi, 
the head chief, an old acquaintance who 
escorted us to his lodge. 
jTO BE CONCLUDED.] 
THE TOP RAIL. 
Speaking of the hard winter west, which has 
driven down the antelope from Canada into 
northern Montana, a friend writes us of starv¬ 
ing range cattle in that State. He considers 
these fighting beasts as promotors of health by 
supplying the ranchman with needed exercise. 
The picture that he draws is not an exaggerated 
one. No doubt many a reader has had the same 
experience which I have when he has tried in 
hard winters to save starving range cattle by 
getting them out of snow drifts and to places 
where food is accessible. All those who have 
tried this know how a starving cow or steer 
will fight. 
“Many people are under the impression that 
ranching is one of the easiest, most pleasant, 
sublimely profitable, and above all, healthy of 
occupations and that it is especially suited to a 
man who needs exercise. Exercise? Yes, a 
rancher gets exercise; swift exercise, exacting 
exercise; and I have been having exercise 
aplenty lately. About every morning this winter 
this same tornado of exercise has come to me. 
A small rancher with a shed and a stack of 
hay is a picnic for the starving, lean, vicious, 
longhorn, three- or four-year-old range steer 
that can run like a race horse and stay like a 
bull terrier. A wild Texas cow is worse, as her 
temper is always on a wire edge, and when she 
is cold and hungry, she will often try to butt 
one of Jim Hill’s 180-ton, hog engines off the 
track. 
“I went out this morning to see if there were 
any young calves that required attention, and 
the attention and reception accorded me was 
enough physical culture exercise to last me a 
month. Our cattle, cows and calves, were 
humped up out in the cold, and as I went into 
the shed a big steer with a head like a pile 
driver and horns like the sacred cow of India 
went for me like a cheap politician for a pros¬ 
pective but weak voter on Election Day. 
“I dove behind a post supporting the shed, 
while the steer dove through the side of the 
shed and spoiled five dollars’ worth of lumber 
and labor. Just then a lubberly two-year-old, 
called Two Pole-Punkin, almost too weak to 
stand, and having old scores to settle with 
humanity, took a notion that, while I was in 
trouble and handy, he would take a punch at 
me himself. Thanks to some inventor of de¬ 
horning machinery or some foreign breeder of 
polled pates, this one had no horns, and I 
escaped by the skin of my coattail, and the 
speed of my heels. As I dove out the doors 
and around the corner with the muley in hot 
pursuit, an old Texas cow, whose milk had evi¬ 
dently been soured by hard living, lack of water 
and no shelter, took a notion that she ought to 
contribute the widow’s mite to the already large 
missionary fund of exercise. So she cut in 
ahead of the muley and just at the tail end of 
my coat, now slanting out horizontally on the 
breeze. I won this race by just straightaway, 
flatfooted speed that was exercise with a 
vengeance. 
“As I was burning the scenery out across the 
flat, the old cow stopped, evidently disgusted 
at such an exibition of speed, shook her head, 
and sauntered back toward the shed I had 
built for the shelter of our little band of gentle 
cows. Just as I was shutting down steam and 
slowing up some, I approached a fence, put up 
to keep the snow from drifting around the 
building. An evil-looking old roan bull, with 
his tail frozen off, his hair almost gone from 
frozen places and buffalo itch, came from be¬ 
hind the fence. He evidently took in the situa¬ 
tion at a glance. He probably knew that a 
rancher needed exercise; may have thought my 
circulation was sluggish. Seeing me afoot, he 
concluded that here was an eastern pilgrim 
ranching for his health, and as he knew that 
health was all a man ever makes ranching, he 
would give me a boost to help me overtake it. 
He lowered his head, shoved that stub tail 
straight up in the air and sailed in. It was 
his last charge, but he died for his country 
(or bunch grass) and died fighting like the 
nigger in the ghost story. I thought I had run 
before, but watch me now. I was getting out 
of breath and that bull had a very small show 
to win, when he struck a streak of ice and went 
all in a heap. He is lying there yet, for he was 
too far gone to get up, and I was not quite in 
the humor to give him a lift by the tail. 
“Yes, if you need exercise, come to Montana, 
get a ranch and a small bunch of cows, and 
after a hard winter in a range country, you will 
be hunting a less strenuous and more profitable 
occupation.” 
5&C 
C. H. M., of Lowell, Mass., writes me as fol¬ 
lows : 
“The article in the Top Rail column of Feb 
23, by Mr. T. M. D. Stevens, reminds me of 
a very intelligent shepard dog I once owned. 1 
was going down to Washington county, Maine 
on a fall vacation and I took my dog Mischiei 
along, as he was a good retriever from the 
water. I stopped over at Old Orchard and was 
much amused at the dog’s actions at his firs 
experience with salt water. He went right it 
to take a drink, but discovered something wron^ 
very soon and showed his surprise by turning 
his head to one side and looking at the water 
After trying several times he concluded it wouk 
not do to drink and even objected to retrieve ; 
stick till after trying several times. _ At last h 
would hold his lips back from the stick as mud 
as possible and fetched it. 
“At Portland I bought my steamboat ticket 
and having some errands to do I took the do 
with me. I followed the street that goes alon. 
the wharves for nearly a mile and then wen 
through a narrow and quiet street to the mai 
business street, thence turning back parallel t 
the first street about one half mile. There 
went into a store and out of that store throug 
another entrance to another street. After visit 
ing several other stores I missed my dog. Whe 
I did think of him I recalled the store I passe 
through and returned to it to learn that I ha 
shut him in but that they had let him out. 
“Here was a nice fix. I had never been ther 
before and the boat was to sail in about thrt 
hours and it was then about 6 P. M. about Sep 
1. I looked up and down all the streets nes 
by and was getting discouraged. Finally I wet 
back to the store and a clerk at the door sai 
‘Your dog has just gone down that poin 
ing the way I came with the dog. So I said 
myself, perhaps he has gone back to the bo 
where I had been with him. I therefore r 
traced my steps the way I came and when 
reached the cross street, which was then d 
serted by teams, there I found my dog curl 
up and lying in the middle of the street. H 1 
not speak to him but watched him some turj 
when up came his head and he looked all aroun 
and when he saw me he got up and trotted 1 
to me as unconcerned as could be. 
“Now if he did not reason that I would il 
turn the way I came why did he go a half ni 
to a quiet street and lie down in the most co 
spicuous place and wait? I think he did, a.\ 
all my experience with him before and as lo 
as he lived goes to show it.” 
Grizzly King 
