Big-Game Hunting in the Rockies. 
Gathering Camp Meal for the Winter. 
In the summer and autumn of i860, my father 
and myself worked in a mine in Georgia Gulch, 
in Colorado. As we were not in at the dis 
covery, we leased the claim from the original 
discoverers. While we were satisfied that they 
j had no legal right to the claim, yet we knew 
that it would be useless for us to try to hold 
the claim, for at least eight out of every ten 
men who were there at that time were from 
Georgia. So we gave one-fifth of what we took 
out and then we made about double wages. 
On the first of October there was a miners’ 
meeting and the claims were laid over until the 
first of June, as most of the owners wanted to 
go home and spend the winter. 
After everything had been arranged at the 
camp we loaded all our traps and grub in our 
wagon and moved out for the winter. 
At the base of the Snowy Range, where the 
road from Denver leaves South Park, there was 
a place called Jefferson consisting of a half 
dozen deserted cabins and one family named 
Robinson, man and wife, who were keeping a 
j stopping place, and more kind-hearted people 
it would be hard to find. Here we camped and 
Mr. Robinson insisted on our wintering in one 
of the cabins. Next day father and Mr. Robin¬ 
son went to look at some slough grass, -while I 
shouldered my rifle and started for the foot¬ 
hills of the Snowy Range. I followed up a 
branch that forms one of the headwaters of the 
Platte for four miles and saw plenty of deer, 
antelope, elk, buffalo and bear signs. I had left 
the creek and was climbing a small butte when 
I saw a fine buck. He came within 150 yards 
when I whistled. He stopped with his head 
and shoulders behind a big spruce. Fearing 
that when he started again I would lose sight 
1 of him, I fired. At the crack of the rifle he 
took a few jumps, stopped and humped up, but 
before I could reload he passed on. Where he 
had been standing when I shot I found a little 
I hair. I followed on and where he had crossed 
a log I found blood. The ground was damp 
i and I had no difficulty in following his tracks. 
I knew he was shot too far back and that the 
j right thing to do was to leave him and hunt for 
a couple of hours, then I would have no dififi- 
i cult'y in finding him, but I was too anxious and 
! concluded I would follow on a short distance. 
| I had been watching his tracks very close when 
I was startled by his jumping up not twenty 
yards from me. On the other side of the gulch 
he stopped and laid down. I killed and cleaned 
him and hung him up. On coming to a buffalo 
! wallow I saw deer tracks quite plain. I stopped 
j to take a look around and saw a large bear 
sitting on its haunches on the opposite edge of 
the wallow not thirty feet away. Before I could 
raise the rifle it wheeled to run toward the 
mountain. I whistled. At first it did not stop, 
but when I whistled again it stopped with its 
fore feet up on a log and looked back. I drew 
on its neck, pulled the trigger arid the bear 
rolled over. I reloaded my rifle, then approached 
very carefully and had got within twenty feet 
of it when someone called, ‘‘What did you shoot 
at?” When I had recovered from my surprise 
I replied, ‘‘A bear.” “Did you kill it?” was the 
next query?” “Yes, I guess so,” said I. 
On looking around I saw an old man approach - 
ing. I did not know there was a man in the 
mountains, and the old man calling to me just 
when I was watching for the least move of the 
bear, startled me. I waited until he came up, 
then we went up to the bear. He was a great 
deal more cautious than I was. He told me 
he was stopping at Burrell’s Ranch and had 
been up on the mountain and was quite close 
when I shot the bear. After showing him where 
I was and where the bear sat when I first saw 
it, and telling him if the bear had waited a sec¬ 
ond longer I should have shot it in the eye, he 
said, “Young feller, you ain’t got a bit of sense. 
If you was my boy I would not let you fool 
around in the mountains with a gun. If you 
had seen men as badly chawed up as I have in 
California, you’d never shot at that bear.” 
“My friend,” said I, “it ain’t the first bear 
I have killed and I hope it will not be the last 
one.” 
He helped me draw it, and as it was very fat 
I gave him what grease he could tie up in a 
handkerchief; then we started back toward 
camp. As he had three miles further to go 
than I had, we did not hunt much, but from 
what he told he had been in California, had 
done a good deal of hunting and prospecting, but 
was afraid of a bear. He claimed to have had 
a partner killed by a grizzly which attacked them 
without waiting to be shot. 
Next morning, early, we rigged up a cart out 
of the hind wheels of our wagon, and taking 
one yoke of oxen, brought the game home. The 
bear weighed 560 and the buck 162 pounds. 
Next morning, early, we began putting up 
hay, as we had concluded to winter there. By 
Saturday night of our second week father said 
we had enough. 
One day while hunting I saw quite a number 
of fresh deer tracks; a few antelope, elk, and 
where a small band of buffalo had gone along 
several days before, but the tracks were too old 
for me to follow. I had come out on to a rocky 
point near timber line and was taking a survey 
of the surrounding flats below when I saw three 
elk about a mile away. Making a long detour 
until close I crawled a few feet, then rose and 
saw an old cow elk lying with her head back 
on her side not fifty yards away. I took aim 
at the butt of her ear and fired. She threw her 
head around straight. I squatted down, re¬ 
loaded my rifle and rose. Ten feet from the 
cow the calf was standing, looking at her. I 
drew a bead on its black neck and had the satis¬ 
faction of seeing it fall. After reloading I can 
tiously crept up and found the other elk lying 
about twenty feet from the others. When 
I came in sight it looked at me, but did not 
get up. I shot it in the head and it straight¬ 
ened out in its bed. I reloaded my rifle and 
cleaned the three elk, which did not take long, 
as they were very fat. 
I then hunted toward a lake about a mile long 
and one of the finest looking places for fish I 
ever saw. I was on some benches near a big 
cliff when I saw an animal running toward me. 
At first I thought it a blacktail deer. It ran 
up within fifty yards. I whistled and it turned 
off and stopped on a rock. I over-shot it, and 
fearing it would run before I could reload, I 
pulled my revolver and shot. It bounded away, 
and after running a short distance, fell, the 
round .36 caliber ball passing through it. 1 
dressed and hung it up quite high thinking it 
would be some time before I could come and 
get it, then returned to camp. 
Next morning father and I brought in "the 
elk. The cow dressed 404, the yearling 280 and 
the calf 143 pounds, making a little over 800 
pounds of good fat meat for our winter’s supply. 
That night it began snowing and by morning 
the park was white. I was off early, knowing 
my days of hunting big game were contingent 
on the extent of the storm. I had not gone two 
miles from camp when I came to the trail of 
two deer. I followed their tracks for a couple 
of miles into a big thicket. I followed and got 
one of them. The other one was standing about 
150 yards up on the mountainside, when I shot 
at it and away it went. Later I found that it 
had run against a tree and fell back dead. I 
cleaned it and hung it up by its mate, then kept 
on around the mountain and I struck the track 
of a very big elk. The snow was over a foot 
deep and the traveling heavy. I followed and 
finally jumped him, but he was too far away to 
shoot at. 
That night it snowed about two inches more. 
In the morning father went with me as far as 
the two deer, while I kept on, thinking I might 
strike some big game. Presently I found the 
trail of a big elk in a thicket of alder and small 
willows. Instead of following the tracks I kept 
down the side of the ridge where I could over¬ 
look the brush, and jumped and shot him. He 
was a fine animal and had very symmetrical 
antlers. 
Early next morning father and I with our 
two yoke of oxen and a sled took the trail for 
my elk. Some animal had made quite a trail 
down the mountain. We made as little noise as 
we could, and when we had reached the elk we 
found a bear had cleaned up the offal and had 
walked around the elk a number of times, but 
had not got within twenty feet of it, as I had 
hung a rag over it and flashed a little powder 
on the rag. We tied up the oxen and followed 
the bear’s tracks. He had gone up the ridge 
a short distance, then turned off into a gulch, 
where he had dug a place out under a spruce 
tree, throwing the dirt out on the snow. There 
he was, coiled up in his bed. I pointed him out 
to father, who was considerably excited. We 
had to retrace our steps for a short distance in 
order to come up opposite to him. I crept up 
to a tree arid saw the bear very plainly. I 
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