A SPECTACULAR BUFFALO CHASE
Except perhaps a sudden view of the blue waters of the broad ocean, few
things in nature are more inspiring to the pilgrim who has plodded his
way across our barren plains than is the first glimpse of some towering
peaks of the Rocky Mountains. Riding my horse in advance of the train,
which on an exceedingly hot July day was toiling up a long and difficult
sandy grade, I reached a flat summit from which there suddenly and
unexpectedly burst upon my view the entire panorama of the lofty peaks
of the Wind River range, from Fremont Peak to South Pass. They were
"crowned with a diadem of snow," but were not "in a robe of clouds," for
not a speck of mist was visible in any direction. The mountains in all
their detail stood out against the blue sky with wonderful clearness and
it seemed as if they were not ten miles away. I may have been unduly
excited, but in calling to those below me, who were next in advance, I
shouted that the snow mountains were in sight. One after another of the
party soon arrived at the summit, and being considerably heated after
the climb they had made under the sharp rays of the sun, some of the men
insisted that the brilliant white on the distant peaks was not snow. As
one driver put it, "Do you think I'm a fool, to think that snow wouldn't
melt in hot weather like this?" This man from the prairie did not
appreciate the towering height of those far away peaks. On the following
morning we were informed that they were still thirty miles away, and
after two more days of travel, we were told that even then Fremont Peak
was nearly one hundred miles beyond us. Fred accordingly declared that
we should never reach it unless we turned back in the other direction,
because the longer we traveled toward it, the further it was away.
[Illustration: THE ROCKIES]
The day after we obtained our first view of Fremont Peak, we knew that
we were near a certain strange freak of nature known as Ice Springs. Its
location is carefully noted on the old charts, and it is described in
the reports of numerous explorers and travelers. In every description of
the springs that I had read or heard, it was stated that at any time of
the year, even in the late summer, a solid mass of ice could be found
within a foot of the surface. We determined to see this remarkable
phenomenon. The springs lie near the foothill on the edge of a somewhat
extensive area of swampy ground from which no water issues on the
surface. Digging down a spade's depth we reached the white crystal and
found it to be cold enough to answer all requirements, but it was so
hard and the superimposed mud was so deep, that it seemed hardly worth
the effort to obtain a block under such difficulties. We reported to our
friends as had been done to us by former travelers that solid ice was
there, and endeavored to explain to each other by what processes ice
could be formed on an open plain during hot summer days, but never
arrived at a satisfactory solution of the problem. Professor W. H. Reed,
of the University of Wyoming, has finally come to my assistance and
exploded the "ice" theory _in toto_. Having learned of the generally
accepted belief that natural ice is formed in those springs, he made
the matter the subject of personal investigation and informs me that
"the springs show what appears to be ice, but what in reality is soda
and gypsum. The so-called ice springs yield a bitter water; this is
because of the dissolving of the gypsum, one of the lime deposits." The
springs like many frauds in other lands are very interesting to the
deluded seeker of curiosities and marvels, but it causes a shock to
learn that this midsummer ice is a fiction. The gypsum resembles soda
and also salt and ice. And thus is our popular delusion dispelled!
A few rods west of the springs we observed two or three small ponds of
water, which were exceedingly bitter to the taste. The surrounding soil
was covered thickly with a saline efflorescence. Beyond the springs, we
reached a creek that was strongly impregnated with sulphur. On the dry
plain adjacent I discovered the finest specimens of petrifaction I have
ever seen. They were evidently sections of red cedar and were nearly
transparent. Here and there lying upon the ground were carcasses of
buffaloes, which, though they had doubtless lain there for many weeks
under the direct rays of a midsummer sun, gave no evidence of
decomposition, but such portions as had not been removed by the wolves
were preserved and dried solid in the pure air, in which there were no
germs of decay. Availing themselves of this property, the Indians and
trappers preserve meat by hanging it up to dry in the sun.
During the day, members of the party despatched an antelope, two jack
rabbits, and a few healthy rattlesnakes; and they reported that they saw
Indians sneaking up a distant ravine.
Truly interesting was this land of wonders, which we are hardly
justified in calling "Wyoming" in this description, because there was
no territory having that name until 1886.
One of those bright days, when the train had 'laid by' to give the stock
a rest, Ben and I strolled out on foot for a hunt. After wandering a few
hours over treeless hills and into dry valleys, we began to suffer
severely from thirst. We changed our course from time to time, allured
by indications of any distant ravine along the bottom of which might
creep a rivulet. We were invariably disappointed. As our travel had at
all times carried us away from the trail, we soon realized that many
hours must pass before we could again find relief in our camp. One
little diversion temporarily turned our thoughts from our personal
discomforts. We were standing above a narrow ravine counseling together
as to our future course when we heard the report of a rifle shot coming
from an unseen point up the valley, possibly a mile distant. We were not
previously aware of the presence of any other person in that vicinity
nor did we learn who fired the shot. It was evidently directed toward a
herd of antelopes, for in a few seconds about a dozen of the graceful
beasts came sweeping toward us along the bottom of the ravine. I had
seen many herds of antelopes skimming over the plains, usually in the
distance, but never before nor since that time have I beheld such poetry
of motion or such remarkable speed in an animal as was exhibited by
those frightened creatures. Along the valley were numerous dense clumps
of sage brush six or seven feet in height and in some cases covering
rather a large area. These obstacles did not seem to retard the flight
of the airy creatures in the slightest degree. Bunched closely together,
the antelopes fairly sailed over one obstruction after another with
wonderful ease and grace, never touching a twig and always alighting
upon all four feet; and again springing from all fours they bounded
swiftly onward, glancing like arrows over the next patch of sage brush.
One quick and seemingly light touch now and then upon the earth was all
that was needed to send them onward. As they approached the point where
we stood, each of us fired a shot at them, but we were too slow for
their movements. Much has been written concerning the gazelle, the
springbok, the chamois, and other congeners of this beautiful animal,
but there appears to be no definite information concerning the maximum
speed of the antelope of our plains, which is known by zoologists as the
pronghorn antelope. The opportunity was afforded us to witness from a
favorable position but a few rods distant a wonderful burst of speed,
which in our judgment would have left the swiftest race horse quickly
out of sight. When this swiftly moving picture had vanished we
shouldered our rifles for the long tramp toward the train.
Hardly a day had passed during the few preceding weeks in which we had
not seen herds of antelopes and black-tailed deer, but our approach
toward antelopes was usually discovered by them very quickly and a few
rapid bounds put them beyond reach of our rifles, where they would
sometimes suddenly turn, and with long, sleek ears tipped forward and
large eyes turned toward the source of danger often remain to watch the
closer approach of the hunter. Paul Beemer was our most accomplished
sportsman and his patience was occasionally rewarded.
When we started upon our return from the long wanderings of the day to
which I have referred, we realized that a drink of cool water would have
been more welcome than an antelope would have been. As our course
outward had been tortuous, without any objective point in view, and had
carried us possibly eight miles from camp, our knowledge of plainscraft
was fully tested, for the camp was pitched in a little valley invisible
from any point forty rods distant. Many of the ravines were dry runs,
down which the water evidently had flowed in time of storms, but in the
sides of many of them were exposed strata of alkali several feet in
thickness. We finally observed in the distance the glistening of water
in a broad, sandy valley and changed our course to reach it. It proved
to be one of those remarkable water courses common in parts of that
country, where a stream filters along beneath the dry quicksand and here
and there appears for a short distance at the surface, but it would have
been impossible to dip the tiniest cup of water from it, for the sand
instantly refilled the slightest depression made in it. A strainer of
fine cloth might possibly have prevented one from drinking sand. There
was, indeed, an opportunity to moisten our lips, but wet sand is an
unsatisfactory beverage at best. The water was found to be strongly
alkaline, therefore unfit to quench thirst--an unpleasant disappointment
on a hot day in the midst of a hot, arid plain.
"Traverse the desert, and then ye can tell
What treasures exist in the cold, deep well.
Sink in despair on the red, parched earth,
And then we may reckon what water is worth."
This water famine of only eight or nine hours was comparatively a small
matter, but it impressed us with the fact of our constant dependence
upon the simple things of life. When we had found our camp and satisfied
our thirst from the old water keg we discovered with pleasure that Paul,
who went out as usual alone on horseback, had brought in an antelope,
which, of course, furnished us steak for supper.
Paul's success, however, was eclipsed on the following day. It was July
29th. Driving Pete's fine four-horse team in advance of the train, and
while passing along the summit of an elevated ridge commanding an
extended view over a broad valley on our left, I discovered a dark,
moving object three or four miles distant, toward the furthest limit of
that depression. The field-glass disclosed the fact that it was a
solitary buffalo. The train was halted. Although tens of thousands of
these magnificent animals were at close range later on my return, this
was the first buffalo thus far seen on our trip that was near enough to
justify the hunt. Fresh meat was needed, and every one was eager for any
excitement. It was therefore determined that Ben, Fred, and Mr. Alsop,
the Captain of Creighton's train, should enter the chase. Hasty
preparations to that end were accordingly made.
Intense excitement was manifested not only by the spectators but by our
chosen representatives while the trio belted their waists, tightened
their saddle girths, examined their firearms, discarded their
waistcoats, slung aside their hats, and otherwise prepared for the
coming encounter--in all of which they received willing assistance. At
the last moment Dan Trippe, the Nestor of our group on all such
occasions, stood beside his wagon with uncovered head and in an earnest
manner from his unfailing knowledge gave the boys some parting words of
advice and admonition. He briefly instructed them in the habits of the
American Bison, (_Bos Americanus_) its mode of defense and its sudden
attacks. He carefully informed them in what part of the body the leaden
missile would be most likely to prove effective and where it would
strike as harmlessly as a feather. Thus duly prepared for the chase,
the boys, as had been arranged, rode rapidly round the valley to the
right. Captain Alsop turned to the left and soon disappeared from sight.
The plan agreed upon was to out-flank the buffalo from both sides and
start the chase toward the train. Nothing could have been planned to
produce a more spectacular contest. The affair was to occur in a
magnificent natural amphitheater the floor of which was comparatively
level, and the spectators occupied a remarkably favorable position upon
the elevated ridge at one end of the ellipse, commanding a fine view of
the entire field. Stretched along in the distance at our right were the
snow-clad peaks of the Wind River Range. In scenic effect it was hardly
inferior to the site of the amphitheater in Taormina, where Mount Etna
at the south and the Snow Mountains across the straits of Messina once
added to the interest of the sports in the arena. All agreed that such
opportunities were very uncommon. In about thirty minutes nearly every
watcher at the same moment observed the boys emerging from a ravine
along which they had entered the valley and about one-third of a mile
beyond their game. Every spectator was as intent on witnessing what was
to follow as if in the ring at a bull fight in Old Madrid. At the same
moment the buffalo also caught his first glimpse of his pursuers. Then
followed a demonstration which some of the older hunters declared that
they had never before witnessed. The animal, which proved to be an
unusually large bull buffalo, turned toward the horsemen and as if in
defiance gave an angry shake of his massive head; then dropping upon the
ground rolled entirely over three times as if to warm himself to the
approaching combat, and all as nimbly as would a kitten and with a
celerity of movement marvelous in so large an animal. With one angry
bellow he started toward the hills. At that moment Captain Alsop rode
rapidly into the arena and would soon have met the bull but the animal
instantly turned directly toward the train and the chase was on. For
about two miles the boys, yelling like Cheyenne Indians, and with hair
flying in the wind, pursued the monster, now and then sending a bullet
in advance from their repeating rifles. Though directed somewhat at
random, some of the shots took effect. The animal's big red tongue,
covered with foam, soon began to protrude from the mass of shaggy hair,
which enveloped the bison's head. His speed slackened, and soon two of
the riders were at his side. Here for convenience the boys used their
Colt's revolvers. The animal gave a desperate and vicious plunge at one
of the riders, fell upon his knees, and rolled heavily upon the ground.
Prolonged cheers arose from the excited spectators. A few of us ran out
to inspect the game and congratulate the sportsmen. A bullet from Ben's
rifle had reached the animal's heart, but to our surprise we found
fragments of two bullets which had struck his head, but had not
penetrated through the shaggy mass of hair. Each bullet had separated
into fragments of lead, appearing as if melted by the impact against the
cushion of hair, which was filled with sand. When the animal was turned
upon his back, his fore hoofs rose to a height of more than six feet.
About four hundred pounds of meat was cut (chiefly from the hump, which
is the choicest part of the animal) and was taken in a wagon to camp.
Deacon Cobb and Noah Gillespie did not come down to greet the hunters,
therefore Ben and Fred practiced upon them a bit of deception. They
stained the nostrils of their horses with the fresh blood of the victim
of the chase, and then the weary animals were led to camp, which it was
necessary to pitch nearby on account of the delay. Both the Deacon and
Noah were careful observers of horses, and a glance at the returning
steeds revealed evidence of severe treatment. The blood, coming
apparently from the nostrils, was, however, something extraordinary.
Noah called our attention to the proofs of over-driving, which he
regarded as criminal. Deacon Cobb was summoned and with Noah gave the
animals a careful inspection. A driver from the big train was also
brought in and the limbs of the horses were examined, the chest was
tested, and the driver gave it as his expert opinion that some blood
vessel had "busted," an opinion in which Noah seemed to concur.
Noah was kept in ignorance of the deception practiced, and so seriously
did he regard the offense that Dan said, "When Noah passes to the other
side he will immediately ask to see the books and ascertain how the
crime in question had been passed upon by the higher courts." Neither
Fred nor Ben was ever disposed to be irreverent, but Fred added that if
Noah should ever be permitted to see the books he would doubtless find
that judgment was entered with a full knowledge of the facts in the
case, a plan not always adopted in decisions rendered on the plains.
Since leaving the Missouri River, each day had seen us at a little
higher altitude than that of the preceding day. The nights were chill,
the cold being doubtless intensified somewhat by proximity of the snowy
range. A trapper stated that it had snowed daily on the East slope from
the 7th to the 14th of July. On the 30th of the month we suddenly
encountered immense swarms of Rocky Mountain locusts, with which for two
days we were surrounded. All of them were moving eastward, and many of
them, sailing along blindly, struck us squarely in the face.
Some of the horses with the train became affected by drinking water that
was strongly impregnated with alkali. The remedy adopted was to force
down the animal's throat a piece of fat bacon; the stomach, becoming a
sort of chemical laboratory, converted the bacon and alkali into soap,
which was considered less harmful than pure soda.
On the night before reaching the pass, the peaks of the Wind River Range
rose grandly in the northwest. Their dip is toward the west. The eastern
faces are abrupt and the peaks are sharp, appearing from the south as if
the strata on that slope had been rent asunder and the edge to the west
of the fissure had been lifted toward the sky, leaving the ragged fault
exposed toward the east, with the surface sloping more gradually toward
the west. A magnificent range, and a most inspiring mountain view to us
camping in sight of the pass.
It had been half a century since Robert Stuart and his party, in
carrying despatches to John Jacob Astor, discovered this pass after
suffering great privations. From the distance it seemed now as bleak and
desolate as it ever could have been. The night being cold with a heavy
frost, we secured enough sage brush for a moderate camp fire. As we were
quietly warming ourselves by the flickering blaze, a voice from outside
the circle broke in unexpectedly with the words, "I hear'n your boy Fred
say after they killed the buffalo and they were twittin' him about
bustin' his horse's blood-vessels that mebbe they wanted to hang him
before they knowed much about it." After this introduction the speaker
roared out with a hearty laugh.
"Well, what were you going to say about it?" said Dan.
"Well, I'll tell you," he replied. "It's like a case down on Poison
Spider Creek. There was some fellows down there that they thought were
stealin' horses. A train was coming along there and the captain of it
lost two horses and he jest made up his mind who got 'em, and there
wasn't no guessing about it neither, so he and his crowd made up their
minds that they was the law. They went down to the fellow's camp and
before the thieves could get out their guns the train men got 'em tight
and run 'em off and got 'em up the creek where there was a tree, and
hung 'em both. After awhile one of the herders found the horses off in
the hills and brought 'em in and they were sure they hadn't been run off
by the fellows either. Then they found that one of the fellows had a
wife that they hadn't known about, and that she had heard that her man
had been hung for stealing horses that he hadn't stole at all, so the
captain who hung the fellows went over to where the woman was to fix
things right with her and make her feel better. They didn't want to do a
dirty trick."
"You mean," said Dan, "that they went to sympathize with the widow and
give her consolation."
"Yes, that's it. And the captain said to her, 'Missis, it is our
mistake, and the joke is on us.' They found the woman couldn't take a
joke, but she went for her gun and put a bullet in the captain. Now, I
thought that this fellow that you call Noah oughtn't to kill these boys
for hurting the horses in that chase until he knows the horses are hurt.
I guess the joke is on Noah." Then he laughed a big "ha! ha!" at the
same time punching a nearby driver in the ribs. "Noah, Noah," he
pronounced, in a slow, drawling tone as he moved onward, "seems to me
I've heard of him before."
"That's a good-natured fellow," said Tom, as he drifted up toward the
little fire, "and the story he told is pretty nearly true, but it does
not match the experiences of Jack Slade, who managed the stage route
this side of Julesburg."
"We have heard so much of Slade," said Ben, "that we should like to know
more about him."
"Oh! everybody in this country knows about Slade. There are said to be
fully a hundred graves near Julesburg in which are buried the worst
characters in the country, and Jack killed a great many of them. Jules
Reni for whom Julesburg was named, was one of his first victims. Reni
was as hard a character as Slade. The fact is that along this road there
have been here and there for several years the headquarters of
desperadoes who are worse than the Indians. The story which Bob has told
you concerning the horse thief's wife reminds me of an experience with
Jack Slade's wife. Jack had become a terror to the country, and
everybody was afraid of him because he was a quick, dead shot, and his
revolver was his usual argument in case of any difference. A lot of men
finally laid for Jack and decided to lynch him. Watching patiently for
their opportunity, they caught him asleep and secured his guns. Instead
of stringing him up at once, they locked him up in a log room and stood
guard around it until they could bring others to participate in the
ceremonies. Jack assumed that everything was all up with him, so he
urged that they send for his wife that he might see her once more and
make his dying confessions. In the goodness of their hearts this one
last wish was granted, for they were satisfied that Jack would die game.
He was a bold and brave though a bad man in life, and would surely be
square in his last hour. The wife was notified and coming quickly,
mounted upon a fine horse, without being searched she was admitted to
the room where Jack was confined. Before the door had been closed she
whipped out revolvers for two, and defying the crowd the woman marched
Slade to the horse she had brought, upon which both of them quickly
mounted, keeping their guns at all times leveled with the threat that
the first one of his captors that moved was a dead man. The business was
done so quickly that Slade and his helpmate were soon out of reach. The
party was afraid of Slade with a gun. This occurred on the Rocky Ridge
division which you came over and where the stages ran last year until
they were taken off on account of the Indian troubles. Jack for a time
had charge of that run for the Overland. He came from Clinton County,
Illinois."
Noah had been poking the sage brush fire into renewed life; then
crossing his hands behind his coat tails and backing close to the
reviving embers he said, "That story that Bob told a few minutes ago
brings to mind the remark which some of us heard made by one of that
gang back on the road who sold to Dan the corn, which was to be
delivered to him on arrival at Julesburg. I guess some of you know that
Dan isn't much afraid of anybody, so when he found that the rascals were
trying to swindle him on the corn, Dan, holding a club in his hand said
to their boss, 'You are a horse thief and a liar.' 'Well,' said the
fellow, 'may be that's all right, but do you know anything against my
reputation for honesty?'"
"Our party remembers that very well," said Fred. "Dan told the truth and
got his corn."
A number of incidents of border life were related by the little fire,
but the night was cold and the ground was freezing. Taking our army
overcoats and blankets, Paul and I found a protected spot and retired
beneath the open sky. If such a brilliant starlight night should come
but once in one's life, it would thenceforth be a matter of constant
remembrance as a scene of beauty and grandeur. Until the morning sun
shone in our faces, we slept undisturbed.