FOREST AND STREAM. 
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June 22, 1907.] 
It had been very dry, but on Nov. 1 we were 
delighted to find there had been just rain enough 
during the night to make it somewhat less noisy 
under foot, so we started out with renewed hope. 
After going less than 200 yards from camp I 
found myself in a perfect labyrinth of willows 
and rosebushes with two deer not thirty feet 
away; but all' that I really saw was one hind 
leg and but a small portion of that. The leg 
was motionless and stretched in a strained posi¬ 
tion which it maintained for what seemed a long 
time. I remained equally motionless and did a 
lot of thinking, waiting for something to happen. 
It was a good sized deer, but there was noth¬ 
ing to shoot at. Somewhere behind and beyond 
that jungle of dry willows, many of them as 
thick as your wrist, was the deer’s shoulder, but 
. just how was he standing and where should I 
aim? I made some mental measurements and 
triangulations, determined an imaginary point at 
which I aimed deliberately and fired. A terrific 
crash of dry brush, one or two thuds on the 
damp ground, and all was still once more. I 
knew I had done no execution, but I made the 
careful search every man should make, though 
it revealed only a broken willow stub against 
which the deer had jumped in its first amaze¬ 
ment, leaving a tuft of hair wedged between the 
splinters, a few sets of hoof prints in the dirt, 
but no blood. I worked on carefully and later 
in the day jumped two' deer, possibly the same 
ones, but under conditions somewhat different, 
though just as impossible as the first, and reached 
camp in rather disgruntled spirits, but Mr. Tyler 
succeeded in enlivening the situation by invent¬ 
ing a new dish which he called “Alexander's 
Favorite,” Alexander being his middle name. It 
consisted of dried deer meat, salt pork, dried 
onions, and a brown gravy, forming a kind of 
stew, possibly a ragout. It was not quite like 
fresh venison, but it was very good. 
The bottom at Hell Creek was overrun with 
cattle, but stilL there was fresh deer sign, and 
on Nov. 3, just as day was breaking, I stepped 
out of the tent, when,’ “Whew—whew—whew 
whew—whew—” came from a deer. I could see 
nothing, but said to Mr. Tyler, "Hand me out 
the gun and some buckshot cartridges. The 
deer are trying to'run us out of camp,” but be¬ 
fore anything could be done I saw two white 
tails disappearing on the jump. It was too dark 
to see distinctly, but it was probably an old doe 
and a fawn. 
While encamped at Beebe Bottom, on Nov. 4, 
a young fellow, named Hanes, rode down to 
water his horse. In the course of conversation 
he said he was from Washburn, North Dakota, 
and knew Mr. Joseph H. Taylor, of that place, 
the author of several interesting books, from 
one of which I have already quoted. We found 
here a part, of a bear’s skull, a few old bear 
tracks, and some ' sign of deer, but the fallen 
leaves were so dry that it was practically use¬ 
less to hunt in this thick cover. 
A boat with a sail passed our* camp on Nov. 
5. It contained two young men who said they 
had started from Benton and were bound for 
Bismarck. We heard that the river was frozen 
here at this time last year (that is remarkably 
early), but as it was getting pretty cold we could 
not help admiring the pluck of the two young 
men who were going to try to make Bismarck 
before the “freeze.” We called them the “Bis¬ 
marck Pioneers.” We had made our plans to 
finish our trip at Poplar Agency, and had or- 
969 
OI.D MESS HOUSE 
dered our mail and trunkful of clothes sent 
there, but it was already so cold that traveling 
was none too comfortable, so in order to make 
better time we rigged a small sail. 
We went about twenty-five miles on Nov. 6, 
camping a few miles above Gilbert’s Creek, which 
we thought at the time was the Big Dry. Deer 
sign here, and beaver becoming more plentiful 
again. On the 7th we traveled about twenty- 
seven miles, passed Lismas postoffice, and camped 
near the beginning of the Eighteen-mile Ben-d. 
Warm in the afternoon, with stiff north wind, 
and during the night some snow and sleet. 
We traveled about twenty miles on the nth. 
Cold and disagreeable. Some mush ice and 
snow running, in sheets thirty and forty feet 
wide. Saw a good many geese, and in one flock 
a white one. The ground was wet and snowy, 
and soon tramped into slippery mud, notwith¬ 
standing which, we cut willows, laid them under 
our bedding, and passed a comfortable night. 
On the 13th we made thirty miles or more, 
killed four bluebills, and camped about two miles 
below Wolfpoint sub-agency. The agency was 
plainly visible from the river as we passed, and 
being the first semblance of a town we had seen 
since leaving Benton, it was rather a pleasing 
sight, with the flag flying, and an appearance 
strongly suggestive of a military post. After 
going through a new cutoff next day, saving 
several miles, we saw a railroad water tank. 
It prbved to be Chelsea, on the Great Northern, 
seven miles from Poplar, which we could see 
distinctly across a great bend. This great flat 
is the Spread Eagle Bottom, which we shall long 
have cause to remember. We were doubtful 
whether we could reach the agency that even¬ 
ing, but kept on with the intention of camping 
at some suitable place, if necessary, and arriving 
at our destination early next day. While mak¬ 
ing good time around the bend w'e saw some 
horses standing on the shore and not- far away 
something that looked like an old stump or root. 
I thought I could trace the outline of an Indian, 
but the distance was such that I was in doubt 
and the object was perfectly motionless. I* said: 
“Look at that Indian trying to imitate a stump,” 
but we finally drifted by. and had about made 
up our minds that it was a stump after all, when 
we heard a low whoop, to which we paid no 
attention. The log remained motionless as a 
log naturally would. The wdioop was repeated, • 
AT POPLAR CREEK. 
• 
this time a little louder. I answered in a way 
that would let him see that we understood the 
joke, and he threw off all his nonsense at once 
and called out in fairly good English, “Where 
you goin’ ?” “Poplar,” we answered. “Oh!” 
said he. 
But it grew dark, and we were obliged to 
camp, which we did, luckily on the north side. 
This was not an accidental choice, however, for 
we had debated the advisability of trying the 
other bank, and in spite of the fact that ' the 
weather was mild, had decided to stick to the 
side where we expected to find our trunk, and a 
railroad to take us home. 
During the night and all next day there fell 
a mixture of snow and rain, so we stayed in 
camp. We went out at times to reconnoiter, but 
could see nothing of Poplar, which seemed to 
be around a long bend, and hidden by the tim¬ 
ber. . About midnight the clouds thickened, and 
it began to blow so strongly that we had to turn 
out and tighten guy ropes, although earlier in 
the evening it had cleared to bright starlight. 
We also hauled the boat out of water. There was 
a very high wind on the 16th and it grew much 
colder, and on the 17th we found the river closed 
with solid ice on our side and nearly half way 
across. Beyond that the ice was moving slowly 
in great fields, with here and there a narrow 
lane of comparatively open water, but we saw 
at once it was useless to try to proceed by boat, 
so it was decided to try to get someone with a 
team to haul our plunder to the agency. Strik¬ 
ing back through the timber I ran across an old 
Yanktonais on the edge of the prairie. He was 
all bundled up on account of the storm and was 
carrying a coil of rope, looking for his horses. 
Finding. I had some slight command of Sioux 
he immediately began describing his ponies, ask¬ 
ing if I had seen them. I had passed them a 
half mile back, in the scattering cottonwoods, 
and he seemed pleased to know where they were. 
He said there was an Indian who had a wagon, 
at the camp from which he had come, and fol¬ 
lowing his directions I had little difficulty in find¬ 
ing the man in question. His name was Teq- 
hri'-i-tcu, which I should translate “Hard to 
Capture.” I found him a little difficult, but after 
the usual backing and filling (he was afraid his 
horses would not face the storm; he thought the 
weather was getting worse, and maybe it would 
be wiser to wait a day or two, etc.,), a bargain 
