A more aggravating annoyance, however, brings loss to the owners of the herds. Despite the stringent law, there is always a certain number of desperate men who take perilous chances in stealing cattle and running them off beyond recovery by their owners. This practice is not so prevalent as formerly, for since the brands are registered, and the agents well known at Cheyenne, Helena, and other shipping-points, the thieves find it hard to explain their possession of the carcasses thus marked and escape the arrest and imprisonment provided as a penalty.
One feature of this annoyance comes from the Indians. By far the greater majority of those on the reservations are law-abiding. Under the patient and skilful tutorship of the Government agents they are advancing in civilization, and in a knowledge of the trades and of agriculture. Rarely is there any trouble with them; but it would be strange indeed if, among these people not yet fairly emerged from barbarism, there were not a number sullen because of the change, and who cling to the traditions and practices when the Indian looked upon every white man as his enemy, whom it was his duty to kill upon the first opportunity. The watchfulness of the authorities prevents grave crimes, but no vigilance can keep the dusky thieves from stealthily raiding upon the cattle and property of their white neighbors.
One of the tasks, therefore, of the cowmen of Bowman’s ranch was to guard against aboriginal thieves. Since those fellows were sure to have the same trouble as white pilferers in disposing of their stolen stock, they were fond of stampeding the cattle when not under the eyes of their caretakers. About all that resulted from this amusement was extra exasperation and work on the part of the cowmen.
A more serious mischief was that of killing the animals. Having satisfied themselves that they were safe from detection, three or four Indians would entertain themselves for an hour or two in shooting down cattle in pure wantonness, and then making off before they were seen. True, this brought the dusky scamps no gain, but it served as a partial outlet for their enmity of the white man, and that sufficed.
That this peculiar feature of ranch life sometimes assumed grave phases was proved by several narrations made by the cowmen to the boys on their first night at the ranch. Less than a year previous, Kansas Jim shot from his horse an Indian whom he caught killing his cattle; and, not many months previous, the five cowmen, under the leadership of Hank Hazletine, had a running fight for half an afternoon with a dozen Bannocks, engaged in the same sport. At that time Barton Coinjock and Kansas Jim were severely wounded, but three of the marauders were slain, and the mischief nearly ended for a time.
But Jack and Fred were tired, and, though interested in the reminiscences of the cowboys, they longed for rest. The house consisted of four rooms, one being generally reserved for visitors or to serve as a spare apartment. This contained a wooden bedstead and some simple furniture, for luxuries are not popular on cattle-ranches. Surely no bed ever felt more luxurious, however, than the blankets upon which the wearied youths flung themselves, sinking almost immediately into deep, dreamless sleep. There were no wolves or dog Indians to guard against now, and their sense of security was as strong as if in their own beds at home.
The night was well past, when both lads were awakened by the sound of rain pattering upon the roof, which, although they were on the ground floor, was but a brief space above their heads. The storm foretold by Hank Hazletine had come.
There are few sounds more soothing at night than the falling of rain-drops upon the shingles over one’s head, but in the present instance the music was anything but welcome to Jack and Fred. It meant that there could be no hunting on the morrow, and probably not for several days. Their time in Wyoming was so limited that they begrudged an hour of enforced idleness.
“But what’s the use of kicking?” asked Fred, after they had fully discussed the situation; “it can’t be helped.”
Nevertheless, they condoled with each other for some time, until, lulled by the gentle patter, they floated off once more into the land of Nod, from which they did not emerge until morning.
The first doleful fact that impressed them was that it was still raining. A peep through the single front window with which their room was provided showed the dull leaden sky, with its infinite reservoir, from which the drops were descending in streams that bid fair to last for days and weeks. The air was chilly, and the wood fire burning in the adjoining room was grateful.
The boys were surprised by a characteristic fact. At some time previous to their emerging from their sleeping-room Jim and Ira had departed to take their turn in looking after the cattle, while Bart and Mort, as they were called, had come in to spend the day and night at the building. When they saw the boys they greeted them pleasantly and conversed for some time. Blair showed himself a man of education, and it came out afterward that he was a college graduate, who, having been threatened with pulmonary trouble, had gone to Arizona and engaged in the cattle business. The experiment wrought a cure, and he was now one of the sturdiest of the five men, not afraid to face the more rigorous climate of the North and to expose himself to all sorts of weather. It was a surprise, indeed, to Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood, in the course of the day, when the conversation happened to drift to the subject of higher mathematics, to find this cowboy could give them instruction in the most abstruse problems they had ever attempted to solve. Thus, although they would have preferred to be away on a hunt, they found the time less monotonous than anticipated.
“This will let up afore night,” said Hank, much to the delight of his young visitors, “and tomorrow will be clear.”
“I hope it will last several days,” ventured Fred.
“So it will,” remarked the cowman, with that air of assurance which showed he was more reliable than the Government in his forecasts of the weather.
Hazletine examined the Winchester repeating-rifles of the boys with great care. He pronounced them excellent weapons, as were the Smith & Wesson revolvers with which they were furnished.
“Your outfit is all right,” he said, “but it remains to be seed whether you know how to handle ’em.”
“We cannot claim to be skilful,” was the modest remark of Jack, “but we have had some experience at home, though when we hunted there it was mostly with shotguns.”
“The main thing, younker, is not to git rattled. Now, if you happen to see old Ephraim sailing for you, all you have to do is to make your aim sure and let him have it between the eyes, or just back of the foreleg; or, if you don’t have the chance to do that, plug him in the chest, where there’s a chance of reaching his heart.”
By “old Ephraim” the hunter referred to the grizzly bear, as the boys knew.
“I have heard that it generally takes several shots to kill a grizzly.”
“That’s ’cause the bullets are not put in the right place. You see, old Ephraim don’t take any trouble to give you a better show than he has to, and you must look out fur yourself.”
“There are other kinds of bears in Wyoming?”
“Rather—several of ’em. For instance, there’s the cinnamon, which, in my ’pinion, is about as bad as Ephraim. I’ve fit both kinds, and the one that left that big scar down the side of my cheek and chawed a piece out of my thigh was a cinnamon, while I never got a scratch that ’mounted to anything from Ephraim.”
“What about the black bear?”
“He’s less dangerous than any of ’em. A black bear ain’t much more than a big dog. Last fall I killed one with my revolver.”
“What other kinds of game are we likely to meet?”
“Wal, it would be hard to name ’em all. There’s the deer and antelope, of course, which you find in all parts of the West. Then there’s the mountain lion, that is fond of living on beef.”
“I never saw one of the creatures.”
“Have you ever seen the Eastern panther?” asked Garrison.
“No; though they used to be plentiful in the northern part of the State of New York.”
“Well, the mountain lion is the same anim
al. Our climate and conditions have made some changes in his appearance and habits, but there is no doubt the two are identical.”
“There’s one kind of game that I wish we could meet,” resumed Hazletine, “but they’ve got so scarce that I haven’t seen one fur three years. That’s the big-horn sheep.”
“He seems to be disappearing from certain sections, like the buffalo from the country,” remarked Garrison.
“There’s plenty of ’em in the mountains of Arizona and old Mexico, and I’ve no doubt there’s thousands of ’em in the Wind River and other parts of the Rockies, but it’s mighty hard to find ’em. Then there’s the black wolf.”
“Is he fiercer than the gray one?”
“He’s ten times worse. Whenever he meets the gray wolf he tears him to smithereens. You never seen a wolf of any kind that wasn’t as hungry as you younkers was yesterday.”
“He couldn’t be any hungrier,” said Fred, with a laugh.
“I have knowed one of them critters to foller a steamboat down the upper Missouri fur two days and nights, howling and watching fur a chance to git something to eat.”
“The buffaloes have disappeared.”
“The right name of the animal is the bison,” suggested Garrison; “they have been slaughtered in pure wantonness. It is a crime, the way in which they have been extirpated.”
“There are a few of ’em left, deep among the mountains,” said Hazletine, “where no one has happened to find ’em, but it won’t be long afore they’ll all be wiped out. Do you know,” he added, indignantly, “that last year our boys found a herd of eighteen buffaloes some miles back in the mountains. Wal, sir, we was that tickled that we made up our minds to watch ’em and see that they wasn’t interfered with. We kept track of ’em purty well till their number had growed to twenty-four. Then one afternoon a party of gentlemen hunters, as they called themselves, from the States, stumbled onto ’em. Wal, as true as I’m a settin’ here, they s’rounded that herd and never stopped shooting till they killed every one of ’em!”
The cowman was so angry that he smoked savagely at his pipe for a minute in silence. His friends shared his feelings, and Kansas Jim remarked:
“Hank and me hunted two days fur them folks, and if we’d have got the chance to draw bead on ’em not all of ’em would have got home. Why, the rapscallions just shot the whole twenty-four, and left ’em laying on the ground. They didn’t even take their hides. If there ever was such a thing as murder that was.”
“Yes,” assented Garrison; “and although the Government is doing all it can to protect the few in Yellowstone Park, somebody is continually shooting into the herd. The bison will soon be an extinct animal.”
“It’s too bad, but I don’t see that we can help it,” observed Hazletine, rousing himself; “there’s plenty of other game left, and it’ll last longer than any of us, but it don’t make the killing of the buffaloes any better. We’re likely to find a good many animals that I haven’t told you ’bout and that I don’t think of.”
“How is it, Hank, that you don’t keep any dogs?”
“’Cause they’re no use. The hunters from the East seem to think they must have a dozen or more sniffing at their heels, but I don’t like ’em. We had a big hound a couple of years ago that I took with me on a hunt. The first critter we scared up was a cinnamon bear, and that dog hadn’t any more sense than to go straight for him. Wal,” grinned Hank, “we haven’t had any dog since that time.”
CHAPTER VII.
THE FIRST GAME.
It was an ideal day for hunting among the mountains. The sun shone from an unclouded sky, and the air had just enough crispness to make exercise enjoyable. In short, it was a perfect copy of that day which saw the V. W. W. start from Fort Steele on their long ride northward to Bowman’s ranch.
The other cowmen would have been glad to join in the hunt, but they could not be spared from duty. Thus it came about that, as in the first instance, Hank Hazletine was the guide and only companion of Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood on that which was destined to prove the most memorable hunt of their lives.
The three had ridden briskly through a part of the foot-hills until they reached the more elevated portion, when the hunter led the way up a winding trail until, early in the afternoon, they arrived at what may be called the limit of “horse navigation,” which is to say their ponies could give them no more help, since the way was too broken for them to climb further.
Accordingly the three dismounted and removed all the trappings of the animals. Hazletine was so familiar with the country that he came to this favored spot without mistake or hesitation. It was a broad, irregular inclosure, in the form of a grassy plateau, where grass grew abundantly, and was walled in on nearly every side by immense rocks and boulders. A tiny stream of icy water wound along one side, disappearing at a corner among the rocks, which were so craggy and eccentric in their formation that a cavity or partial cavern was found, in which the party placed their bridles, saddles and blankets, and which was capable of giving them shelter against the most furiously driving rain-storm.
“Surely we couldn’t have found a better spot if we had hunted for a month,” said Jack, admiringly surveying their surroundings.
“This is to be our headquarters,” explained Hazletine, “during the few days or the week that we spend in hunting here.”
“You mean that we are to spend each night in this place?”
The guide nodded his head.
“I don’t know of any better arrangement,” said Fred; “we can gather enough wood to keep a fire going, and, if rain should set in, shall have as good shelter as if in the house on the ranch.”
“That’s it; and you mustn’t furgit one thing,” added Hazletine; “we fetched along just ’nough stuff fur dinner. We haven’t anything left fur supper. None of the cattle git this fur into the mountains, so we can’t count on them. Therefore, we’ve the ch’ice atween shooting game or starving to death.”
“That’s enough to make us all do our best, but we cannot suffer so long as we have you for our companion.”
“But you ain’t going to have me fur your companion.”
The boys stared at their friend in astonishment. He explained:
“There ain’t much show fur three persons to find game as long as they stick together. The right way is fur ’em all to part and each keep it up on his own hook. A chap isn’t in half the danger of being seen by the deer or sheep, or whatever it may be he’s after; and he has the chance, too, to show what stuff he’s made of.”
“Then you intend to leave us?”
“You’ve hit it the first time. I’ll start out on my own bus’ness, meaning to be back here while the night’s young.”
Observing significant looks passing between the boys, the man hastened to add:
“Now, don’t you folks make the mistake of thinking I’ll get your supper fur you, fur I don’t mean to do nothing of the kind. I don’t intend to do any hunting, but to git away from you so as to let you have the chance. I don’t say that if a big horn or a antelope or buck walks up in front of me and asks me to take a shy at him that I won’t pop him over, though some folks that I know wouldn’t do the same if the buck happened to be a two-legged one; but such things don’t often happen; and, if you don’t fetch in any game, them appetites of your’n are likely to bother you as much as they did t’other day when we was riding from the fort.”
“Do you wish Fred and me to part company?”
Hank’s eyes twinkled and a quizzical expression lit up that part of his countenance which was visible.
“’Twouldn’t be safe.”
“Why not?”
“You’d each take the other fur a wild donkey and plug him afore you found out the mistake, which the same wouldn’t be such a mistake after all.”
The boys could well afford to laugh at the pleasantry of the man who, it was evident, felt a partiality for them. He added, more seriously:
“You’d have more show to shoot g
ame if you parted, but I’d not advise you to do it till after you’ve hunted for some days together. It’s mighty easy for younkers like you to git lost in these mountains. You must keep your bearings, so it won’t be any trouble fur you to find your way back to this spot when it’s dark. If you happen to catch sight of any game, try to not let it see you till you git a fair shot at it; and there ain’t much good in wounding a critter in these parts, fur it’s sure to git away from you.”
After some further instructions, Hank bade his young friends good-by and left them. He strode off in the direction of the trail over which they had come to reach this interesting spot in the mountains, and disappeared without once looking back to see what they were doing.
It was odd thus to be left alone in this wild region, and the chums looked in each other’s face with smiles. It certainly was a curious experience to be set down in one of the greatest mountain spurs of the West, and to be told that now they must take care of themselves. It was like being cast into deep water and ordered to choose between swimming and drowning.
“It’s just as well,” said Jack, “or he wouldn’t have done it. Surely the V. W. W. ought to be able to take care of ourselves, with our repeaters and pistols. There’s nothing to be feared from wild animals, or he would have warned us.”
“It strikes me that the most important thing to do is to keep our bearings, for if we should happen to lose our way it would go hard with us.”
“We took care to bring spy-glasses, as well as everything else that we thought we were likely to need, but forgot about a compass, which may be worth all the rest.”
“Well, we must be careful not to stray too far until we become familiar with the country. Let’s not delay our start.”
The plateau where their ponies were cropping the grass was several acres in extent, nearly half of it sloping abruptly; but the grass was abundant enough to furnish the animals with all they could need, no matter how long they stayed, since it had plenty of opportunity to renew itself.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 44