a fine bull in a gulch quite a distance off. He immediately quickened
his pace and was soon out of range. I glanced at my rifle and I found
that the elevation of the sight had been misplaced, being ranged for
fifty yards. I think it is best to have the sight of a high power gun
with a very flat trajectory sighted for 100 yards, and to draw a fine
or coarse sight on the object as occasion may require. We examined
the spot where the bull had been seen when fired at and discovered a
sprinkling of blood along his tracks. Tying the horses, we started
to follow the trail on foot. The course the bull took favored the
higher elevations more than the depressions, which was a bad sign, so
with grave misgivings we continued the pursuit. The increasing signs
of blood inspired us with hope; here and there he occasionally stood,
as was evident from the quantity of blood and the character of the
impression his feet made in the snow. In other respects the signs
were disappointing; the tracks showed no indication of weakness, and
frequently led us across high fallen trees and along steep places,
where I followed with difficulty. The blood, although quite plentiful,
was a light red, and not the dark color which would be discharged were
some vital spot injured. Finally, after traveling about six miles,
the flow of blood began to lessen. At length we reached a point where
he entered a tract of thick timber, evidently at a walk. We concluded
that it was best not to pursue him in this retreat, because his
slow pace might indicate exhaustion and a disposition to lie down. The
only hope I had of securing him would be in case of his lying down
and becoming stiff from his wound and not being able to get up. We
concluded to allow plenty of time for this to happen. The guide made
a circuit around the timber and could discover no trace of his having
emerged from it. We then went back to the horses and rode to camp. The
succeeding day we returned to the spot, traced the steps of the elk to
a place where he had lain down, and saw a slight discoloration of the
snow where his brisket had touched it, his tracks led onward, and signs
of bleeding had ceased. All our trouble had been in vain because of an
improperly arranged sight.
[Illustration: CHAS. HERDICK SKINNING A BULL ELK. THE AUTHOR AT THE
RIGHT.]
By this time I had been about ten days in camp and was growing quite
accustomed to the life. Although the weather was quite cold, at times
going to eight or ten below zero at night, yet it often grew warm
enough during the day to thaw, but it was dry, light atmosphere and
always bracing. Every night for a brief interval we were treated
to a serenade from the coyotes, a ridiculous, wild and unearthly
chant, which became a positive nuisance when the dogs undertook an
accompaniment right at our ears. Occasionally a bull elk, feeding
during the full of the moon, would cause the cold atmosphere to vibrate
with his shrill whistle as he loped past the camp. In all other
respects we were entirely alone for the twenty-two days I stayed in
camp except one, when the game warden dropped in to look at my license,
and after a brief stay took his departure. How different this was from
most of the hunting in the East, where the number of sportsmen has
become so great as to render the pastime almost as dangerous for the
hunter as it is for game. Particularly is this the case when “green
sportsmen” persist in shooting at anything that moves without first
finding out what it is. My guide expressed his surprise at the number
of accidents which occur every year in the Adirondacks through gross
carelessness. He remarked that he believed it would be best if one
were hunting in the Adirondacks and saw anything moving in the brush
to shoot without waiting to find out what it was, because the chances
are that it would be a man, and if you did not shoot him he would shoot
you. I was rather amused at this piece of grim humor, which is a sample
of what he generally had on tap.
The sun dawned auspiciously upon what proved to be my luckiest day
in camp. For some days I had hunted diligently without securing the
heads that would satisfy me. We had not journeyed over three miles
from camp before we saw, at quite a distance, a large bull move into
a thickly wooded valley. We turned our course in that direction,
keeping out of view as much as possible, riding along a hill which
overlooked the valley into which the bull had taken refuge. We came to
an open and slightly undulating country, which was covered with about
eighteen inches of snow, and gave evidence that quite a number of elk
had recently passed that way, and about 500 yards off saw a herd with
several good heads. The country was quite open, but broken up with
thick clumps of spruce trees here and there. To get nearer the herd
it was necessary to cross a wide open space, but by a timely maneuver
of the guide we traveled under cover until we reached a point where a
thick clump of trees standing out in the open space obstructed the view
between us and the elk. We then rode out in the open toward the clump
of trees which concealed us from view. Having gained this point, which
was about 175 to 200 yards from the herd, I dismounted and stepped out
in the clearing. The cows again provokingly ran between me and the
largest bull, which I had marked as my own. Fortunately, the cows
ran ahead and I got a quartering view of the large bull. The bright
reflection of the sun on the snow made it somewhat difficult to fully
distinguish the body of the animal in the dense moving mass, but I
succeeded in locating it. Drawing a fine sight on my Mauser I fired.
The entire herd disappeared over the crest of the hill. The guide, who
by this time had mounted his horse, cried, “You have got a bull.” I
asked him if it was the “big one.” He replied, “I don’t know.” In the
confused and changing mass it was indeed difficult to keep track of any
particular one. We urged the horses to their utmost speed; the antlers
of the bull continued growing larger to the view as we drew near.
Finally, with an exclamation of satisfaction, the guide slipped off
his horse and congratulated me upon the kill. “The largest head in the
bunch.” It was indeed a fine bull, with a spread just short of four
feet. There were twelve points on the antlers, six tines on each side.
The bullet had lodged a little back of the shoulder and the animal had
dropped without a struggle. In the space of fifteen or twenty minutes
the carcass was dressed; the mantle had been stripped off, and we were
ready to return for a couple of pack horses to bring in the antlers and
meat.
We had hardly mounted the horses when we saw another bull with a
fine head about 250 yards away. I slid off my horse, and getting the
distance from the guide, I drew a coarse sight and fired as the animal
was going over a hill. We hurried over to the spot where the bull had
been and saw faint splotches of blood on the snow. As we descended the
hill the guide remarked he hoped we would not have as long a chase
after this one as we did after the bull we hunted so long a few days
previous. I replied that I was certain we would not. “How do you
know?” he asked. For answer I pointed to a lifeless form just beyond
lying among some spruce trees. As the guide stepped alongside of me,
where he could get a view, he expressed his surprise at the luck I had
had in getting two such fine heads in so short an interval. It was
barely half an hour since I had secured my first trophy, and now I
had a second one which we both regarded as better than the first. The
ball had struck back of the shoulder a little above the middle of the
body. The spread of this head was a trifle larger than the first one
I had shot; the antlers were more solid, especially at the base. My
hard hunting had been rewarded. I had obtained inside of half an hour
two heads as handsome and large as any that it had ever been my good
fortune to secure. I felt like a school boy about to take a vacation,
for I had hunted faithfully for about eleven days and I promised myself
a rest when I had won out with the bulls.
For several days I took it easy; a large part of the time I sat in a
comfortable chair in camp and read novels and played cards. I also
managed to work up quite a small medical practice, my victims being
Sheffield, Charles Herdick and Marcus Imo, the cock and horse wrangler.
The remedies which some people of the far West prescribe for their
ailments are quite original and simple. One day when I was starting
out on horseback to hunt in company with Herdick, I noticed that he
had not saddled his horse. I asked him the reason. He replied that he
was not feeling well and wanted exercise. Anyone familiar with hunting
in Jackson’s Hole knows how often one has to leave the horse to travel
on foot over rough country through snow and up slippery ascents for
hundreds of feet.
Herdick evidently thought this was not enough exercise to keep him
in condition. Another time Imo had contracted a severe cold which
I wanted to prescribe for. He replied that it had come on without
anything and it would go off without anything. After some persuasion
he consented to take a good dose of quinine and a hot drink before
retiring. The next morning the cold had about disappeared, but when Imo
went out to round up the horses he had great difficulty in hearing the
bell on account of the quinine buzzing in his ear, which confirmed his
bad opinion of medicine.
After I had tired of loafing I hunted with the dogs, tracking cougars,
bobcats and lynx. Occasionally I would take a shot at a coyote to pay
it back for some of the unearthly serenades we had been treated to
at night. One day, while following the track of a lynx, Herdick came
across a No. 5 bear trap. He discovered it by noticing some fresh elk
meat near it. The trap was carefully concealed, and had he been an
inexperienced hunter or perhaps walking along there at night he might
have made discovery by stepping in it. It is against the law to bait
a trap with elk meat, and it should be forbidden to set traps around
indiscriminately where sportsmen are licensed to hunt; the permission
implying reasonable safety, which is not the case when dangerous
traps are set without proper safeguards. We sprung the trap and went
on. Some men, who are acquainted with the danger arising from this
source, always carry a monkey-wrench when hunting or trapping. A steel
trap which could hold a silver-tip would inflict a terrible injury
upon anyone who was unfortunate enough to become entrapped, even if
assistance were promptly rendered, and assistance being remote, might
cause a painful, lingering death. I knew of a case where a trapper had
set two No. 5 bear traps, and upon his return found a large silver-tip
in one of them. Venturing rather close to the bear the enraged animal
made a sudden lunge at him, which the man evaded by stepping back
hurriedly. In doing so he accidentally fell and sprung the other trap
with his knee and was caught in that position. The man was unable to
get to his rifle to dispatch the bear, which was making efforts to
reach him. Being in uncomfortably close quarters to the bear, and
apprehensive of his safety, the trapper devised a clever plan to
dispose of his disagreeable neighbor. Fastening his knife to the end
of a long pole he repeatedly stabbed the bear until death ensued. His
companion, going to examine the traps, at last found him almost dead
with pain and released him.
[Illustration: GROS VENTRE RIVER.]
The end of my outing at length drew near, and it became necessary to
make arrangements to break camp. I had become quite attached to the
beautiful spot where I had spent such a pleasant time and had so much
luck. Although I had not bagged all the game the law allowed me, yet I
felt that I had obtained exceptionally good heads and was satisfied.
I had also collected a considerable number of photographs, of which
Sheffield took the greatest number; in fact, he proved quite an expert
in this line. The horses seemed no more anxious to leave than we
were, and occasionally proved refractory and commenced to buck until
something was bound over their eyes. The first night of the journey
homeward we camped on the banks of the Gros Ventre. We put up no tents,
but slept out in the open, because, as I said to the guide, I wanted to
see how it felt to rough it.
During the day we had descended into a country where the elevation was
considerably lower. The snow, which we had seen continuously in our
former camp, had all disappeared and the temperature was much warmer.
Early the next day we reached Jackson, where we put up at Nelson’s
Hotel and were very hospitably entertained. Although remote from the
regular line of travel and the railroad, the people in this locality
live remarkably well and in comfort, and on reaching this point I felt
I was in touch with the rest of the world. Although it is 100 miles
from the railroad, yet it is connected with St. Anthony by telephone.
A musical entertainment was arranged here for our benefit by the
hospitable inhabitants of the place, which proved very enjoyable.
[Transcriber’s Note:
Obvious printer errors corrected silently.
Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]
End of Project Gutenberg's Inter-Ocean Hunting Tales, by Edgar Fritz Randolph