
The guide and “Doc.” 
October 20th found Dr. D. Ar- 
thur Jones, James Littlejohn and 
the writer jammed into the front seat 
of the old Stutz, with the back seat 
loaded to the top with saddles, duffle 
bags, tarpulians, and guns enough to 
start a Mexican revolution. We were 
at last off for what promised to be a 
real hunt. We planned to drive all 
night, taking turns at the wheel, and 
in that way should reach Challis, Idaho, 
around noon the next day. From Chal- 
lis we were to get our grub and go 
by truck twenty-five miles up a canyon 
to Oilers Ranch, where we were to 
spend the night, leaving there early 
the next morning with a team and 
spring wagon for Forney, Idaho, a lit- 
tle inland post office twenty odd miles 
from the ranch. Here we were to meet 
Albert Kurry, our Guide and his 
brother Henry, with their pack horses 
and pack from there to Kurry’s cabin, 
which is on the Middle Fork of the 
Salmon River, a distance of fifty odd 
miles and through some of the roughest 
country in Idaho. 
We arrived in Challis about on sched- 
ule and purchased our provisions, and 
made our destination for the night with 
not a few real thrills—for this road 
had all the roller coasters beaten a 
city block for dips and turns and dan- 
gerous looking dugways. Mrs. Oiler 
had a wonderful meal cooked up for 
us, which we proceeded to devour with 
the appetite of wolves. Needless to 
say, we slept like dead men that night 
and when we were called it seemed to 
me I hadn’t been in bed ten minutes, 
for it was still dark outside. 
’ SHREE o’clock on the afternoon of 
E hurried to breakfast and were 
introduced to Bill Barnes, an old 
trapper who was to drive us to Forney, 
where he was to get an old mule to 
bring back with him for coyote bait, 
so he told us. Bill was a typical old 
mountaineer, with keen eyes, charac- 
teristic of men who live out in the 
hills. He told us he was sixty-two 
714 
ES 
years old, but he looked to be about 
forty-five, with strong iron-like mus- 
cles. Our road was a mere trail from 
the ranch on, and many times we piled 
off the wagon glad to have the excuse 
that we wanted to warm our feet, but 
in fact more concerned over whether 
the wagon was going to stay on the 
road, or roll over the mountain side 
with Bill and our grub, but somehow it 
seemed to stick to the road. We reached 
the summit about noon, and the ap- 
pearance of the road from here on was 
most pleasing. By this time it was my 
turn to sit with the driver, and I hap- 
pened to remember a few bottles of 
very old “medicine” we had brought 
along for snake bites, so I ventured to 
ask Bill if he would like to indulge, 
for I certainly felt that I needed some. 
E said he indulged once in a great 
while, so we dug into our packs, 
and at length unearthed a bottle. Judg- 
ing from the size of the drink he took 
I was convinced he would only need 
The 
to take one in a great while. 
drink evidently took effect 
—for he started to tell us 
the history of his life—with 
variations—which kept us 
roaring with laughter from 
there on into Forney. Bill’s 
talkative mood changed and 
he became more quiet—al- 
most sleepy, and we were 
afraid at times he would 
topple off his high perch, 
however he managed to herd the team 
on in, but was positively unfit for 
further duty when we landed, so turned 
the team over to one of Mr. Merretts’ 
men. 
In very short order most every one 
in town was aware of our presence. 
We spent the remainder of the day 
helping—or hindering—the Guide, and 
Henry evened up the loads in the al- 
forqueses and got things ready to start 
in the morning. We retired very early 
and were out before sun up. Henry 
brought the horses into a little round 

A Goat Hunt 
in Idaho 
A ‘‘Been There’? Tale of Western 
Hunting in Two Parts—Part One 
By J. FRED REYNOLDS 
log corral and as soon as we had break- 
fast the fun began. The horses seemed 
to be all outlaws, but Albert assured 
us that before we reached our destina- 
tion they would all be nice and tame. 
HERE was one horse called “Dyna- 
mite,’ and a more appropriate 
name was never given a horse. He 
was a big bay with huge head and ro- 
man nose (if a horse can have a ro- 
man nose). When Henry roped him 
and snubbed him to a post he made for 
him on his hind feet, pawing the air 
and squealing. We were looking on 
from the top of a high fence, but 
Henry left him for Albert to take care 
of and went on catching the horses and 
tieing them. Albert tossed a noose 
around Dynamite’s front legs, making 
them fast, then threw a tarp over his 
head and proceeded to put two hun- 
dred pounds on his back and made it 
fast with a diamond hitch. Our outfit 
looked like a company of cavalry by 
the number of horses, for Albert had 
expected six of us and brought along 
twenty-three head of 
horses, including saddle 
horses. We _ saddled our 
horses and after some little 
time we were ready to 
start. 
When they turned the 
horses loose they bucked in 
every direction and it 
looked to us like our outfit 
would be strung from “hell 
to breakfast,” as the Guide would put 
it, but fortunately only one of the 
packs came loose, and that one, along 
with other things, contained a box of 
cigars. I saw this box fly out of the 
alforques, turn over a time or two, and 
come down again in the pack—only to 
go up again and this time cigars flew 
in every direction. Henry finally roped 
the horse, snubbing him to his saddle 
horn, and in a very short time every- 
thing had been gathered up and the 
pack re-tied and we were off. 
Albert took the lead, with a trusty 

