TO LARAMIE AND NORTH PARK
They were up before light next morning, and by the time the sun had
risen, the little train had started off southward. Crossing two low
divides, they found themselves, before noon, on Rock Creek, and
traveled up that without incident until late in the day. Everywhere
scattered over the valley and the bluffs, antelope were feeding in good
numbers.
About the middle of the afternoon Hugh proposed that they should stop
and smoke and let the animals feed for a little while, and they did
so. The men lounged in the shade of a clump of bullberry bushes, for
the sun was hot. After half an hour's rest, Hugh said, "Well, son,
let's gather up these horses and be moving. We want to get beyond Rock
Creek Station to-night. I don't think much of camping in or close to a
town, and especially not close to Rock Creek. There's where they unload
considerable freight for the ranches up north, and there's usually a
good big crowd of bull-whackers there, and most of them drunk. Let's
get by there before we camp."
They were stepping out to get the horses, when Hugh stretched out his
hand and touched Jack, saying, "Hold on a minute, son, what's that
coming down the creek?"
Jack looked, and could see far off a flock of birds coming. They were
stretched out in a line and seemed to have white bodies with black tips
to their wings.
"What are they, Hugh?" he said, as they both crouched on the ground and
watched the distant birds.
"I'm not sure," replied Hugh. "There are mighty few birds that are
white with black tips to their wings. These might be white geese or
white cranes or gulls or pelicans. They can't be gulls, for they don't
fly right, and they are not white cranes, I am sure. They are either
geese or pelicans, and we'll soon know which."
The birds drew nearer and nearer, and presently Hugh said, "They are
not geese, either; they must be pelicans. I hope they'll come over us,
for they'll make a fine show, and I reckon they will follow the water."
Very slowly, as it seemed to Jack, the great birds approached. He was
astonished at their tremendous spread of wing and at their curious
appearance. They flew in single file, nine of them, the bill of each
just about so far from the tail of the bird before it. Their necks were
crooked so that the back of the head seemed to rest on the body, and
Jack could not but think that in this matter they carried themselves
just like herons. Their enormous yellow bills shone in the bright
sunlight, and the feet stretched out behind were yellow, but seemingly
paler than the bills. To Jack two or three of them seemed to have a
wash of gold color on the side of the head, but except for that they
were pure white all over except the black wing tips. On steady wing
they followed the windings of the stream, not more than thirty or forty
feet above the water, passed the travelers without noticing them, and
then disappeared down the stream.
"My!" exclaimed Jack, as they grew smaller in the distance, "that was a
fine sight, Hugh. I never expected to see anything quite like that. I
did not know that there were many pelicans in this country, though, of
course, there are plenty of them further west, at least that's what the
books say."
"Yes," answered Hugh; "there are lots of them out West, especially in
Utah and Nevada, so I've heard, but there are a few scattered all over
the Western country. Now and then one sees them up in Montana, and
sometimes down here, and pretty much everywhere, but it's a long time
since I've seen a lot together this way."
"Well," said Jack, "I'm mighty glad they came along just when they did."
A few minutes later the train was in motion, and not long before sunset
they passed through the town of Rock Creek. As Hugh had said, much
freighting was going on here, and many wagons with white tilts were
drawn up side by side, while at a distance on the prairie, herds of
stock fed, each watched by a herder. Scattered about near the different
groups of wagons, were the camps of the bull-whackers, and a few men
were seen, though most of them were presumably in the cook tents eating
their suppers. The train had almost passed through the camps, when
from between two tents a hundred yards off to one side, Jack saw a
little man run out, turn and run down toward another camp, and almost
immediately behind him was another much larger man who carried in his
hand a good stout club. The little man did not run so fast as the one
behind him, and presently the pursuer overtook him and began to beat
him with the club. The second or third blow knocked the small man flat
to the ground, but he did not remain there, and springing to his feet,
he turned and caught the tall man around the neck with his left arm and
in a moment the tall man fell to the ground, while the little fellow
walked off. It had all happened quickly, and almost by the time Jack
had called Hugh's attention to it, the little fellow had quickened his
steps and was now running away from the camp. As Hugh and Jack looked
back they could see dark stains spreading over the white undershirt
that the large man wore, and it was evident that the little fellow had
stabbed his antagonist. Almost at once from three or four directions
men came running toward the wounded man, and a little later two or
three men rushed out from tents, carrying rifles and cartridge belts.
Jack had said to Hugh, "Oh, Hugh, that man is wounded; shan't we go
over and help him," to which Hugh had replied, "Don't you do it, son;
let us get ahead as fast as we can and not mix up with these fellows'
quarrels. You can't tell what these half-drunken men will do. They are
liable to try to knock one of us off our horse if the notion takes
them. The best thing we can do is to put as much ground between them
and us as we can. There's one comfort," he added; "if they do shoot at
us they can't hit us."
Meantime, shots were sounding out on the flat, and Jack could see the
little man running hard for the distant bluff, while behind him two
or three men were running or staggering and shooting with pistols and
rifles. Before very long, Hugh and Jack had put two or three miles
between Rock Creek and themselves, and just after sundown they camped
in a pleasant part of the valley where there was good grass and water,
but not much wood.
While Hugh was cooking supper, a man came along on horseback and
stopped to speak with them.
Hugh asked him if he would not alight and have a cup of coffee, and he
accepted.
"Have you men just come from Rock Creek?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Hugh. "We have just passed through there an hour ago.
A lively place, isn't it?"
"Too lively for me," said the stranger; "I've got charge of that bull
train, and those drunken bull-whackers will break my heart if I don't
get them out from the railroad before very long. Three or four of them
got drunk and quit on me the other day, and I've been into Laramie
to try and get some more. I've got three that are coming up on the
passenger to-night."
"Well," said Hugh, "we saw a couple of them having fun with each other
as we came through. There was a big man pounding a little man, and the
little man turned and cut the big man, and then pretty much the whole
camp turned out and chased the little fellow off over the prairie, and
the last we heard they were still shooting at him."
"Yes," said the foreman, "that don't surprise me a bit. That little
fellow was Wild Tex, and the big fellow was Donovan. Donovan has always
been picking on Tex, and when he gets drunk he is worse than ever.
I've been expecting that Tex would kill him, but he's a mighty patient
little cuss and hasn't done it yet."
"Well," said Hugh, "he had a good chance to do it to-day, and if
Donovan gets well I hope he'll have learned a lesson."
"I hope so," said the foreman, "but I don't think he is one of the kind
that learns lessons."
The foreman sat with them until they had finished supper, and then
getting up said, "Well, I must be going. I've got to round up my outfit
and get them started to-morrow morning, if I can. A mighty good cup of
coffee you gave me. So long."
The next night they camped close to Laramie, and early the next day
went into the town and purchased their supplies, not forgetting a pair
of rubber boots for each. It was only the middle of the morning when
the loads were put on and they started south over the open prairie on
their way to North Park. Now Jack felt that the trip had really begun.
The ride over the open prairie was delightful. The mountains toward
which they were journeying showed many strange shapes and curious
colors, and the wagon road which they were following was constantly
dipping down steep hills and climbing others. The first few miles
showed them many cattle and horses, but no game, but later, as they
approached the mountains, a few antelope began to be seen, and there
were many well-known western birds of the dry country, which now for
two years Jack had not seen.
Towards evening they reached Beaver Creek, a tributary of the Laramie,
and after following it up for a few miles, camped for the night. The
day had been a long one, and not long after supper both Hugh and Jack
turned into their blankets and were soon sound asleep.
Off again at an early hour next morning, they traveled for a long way
through the pleasant green timber, where the foot fall of the horses
made no sound on the forest floor of dead pine needles, and where
no sound was heard except occasionally the call of a gray jay, the
rattle of a woodpecker's bill on a dead limb, or the soft whistle of a
crossbill in the tree tops.
Jack felt obliged to follow behind Hugh, though he really wanted to
ride beside him and talk about the pleasant country through which they
were passing. Still it was his business to watch the horses, especially
so now during the first day of travel through the timber, where a pack
horse, unless watched, might possibly get hung up by a tree and break
something or disturb his pack.
It was this morning, after leaving camp on the Beaver, that they came
to what is called the Neck of the Park, and passing over the divide,
followed down the valley, at first narrow, but gradually becoming
wider, which at length lead them to a more open country. They passed
Pinkham's Ranch, and then took the right-hand road, which Hugh said led
to the mines at Hahn's Peak.
Soon after leaving Pinkham's, they passed a cabin, near which was a
small spring, from which bubbled up a constant supply of cool water
abundantly charged with what Jack thought might be carbonate of soda.
At all events the water was fresh, sparkling, and delicious, and he
thought that if it were nearer to a market it might be bottled and sold.
Soon after they left the soda water fountain, they crossed a high steep
ridge and then passed down a gentle descent toward the North Platte
River. On either side of the trail they were following the mountains
were rough, and weathered pillars of granite stood out bare among the
ancient cedars on the hillside.
They camped in the beautiful valley of the North Platte on the edge
of a splendid level meadow covered with fine grass, on which in the
evening and again next morning Jack saw from three to four hundred
antelope at a time. There were also ducks, rabbits, sage hens, and blue
grouse; abundant food, Jack thought, for any hunters who are satisfied
with enough.
That evening Jack wandered away from camp and found in a clump
of willows, not more than a quarter of a mile from it, a curious
collection of long-eared owls. He could not think what brought so many
of them to this place, unless it was for a shelter during the day,
which would enable them to get out of the bright glare of the sun, for
nowhere else in the neighborhood could shade be found except in this
growth of willows. Here, too, in the tops of the willows he noticed a
number of domed nests of magpies, and from the calls of the birds that
he heard around about, he felt sure that they were occupied.
When he got back to camp, Hugh said to him, "Do you know, son, that
last antelope you killed is pretty nearly gone? We ought to have
another one, or at all events some meat before long. You might start
out to-night, though it's a little late, or we can lay over here
to-morrow until noon and you can go out and try to kill something."
"Say we put it off until to-morrow morning, Hugh," said Jack, "and
I'll start out early, and see what I can do."
As soon as breakfast was over next morning and it was light, Jack
started off along the edge of the valley to look for an antelope. He
did not have to look far to see a great many, for the bluffs and river
bottom were covered with them, but he walked for some time before he
could find any of the animals so placed that they could be approached.
However, at length, as he cautiously peeped over a point of the bluff
which stretched down toward the river, he saw well beyond it a single
buck antelope, and what was more to the purpose, about half way between
the antelope and the point of the bluff, a clump of willows which would
give him an opportunity to approach it. Luckily, no wind was blowing.
He drew back a little and descending the bluff, rounded its point so
that the willows concealed him from the buck, and then hurrying along
toward the patch of brush, soon found himself within a hundred yards of
the antelope. By a careful shot he killed it, and a little later with
the hams and saddle on his back he was on his way toward the camp.
After the antelope had been skinned and put in the sack, it was loaded
on a pack, and they started on again.
The country was open and covered with sage brush, and often from the
high bluffs they could see little lakes, which shone like silver in the
sun. They camped early.
That evening, after supper, as they sat about the campfire, Jack asked
Hugh many questions about trapping.
"Well, son," said Hugh, "trapping is a big subject, and it's pretty
hard to learn much about it, except by setting your traps. You'll have
a chance to set plenty of traps for beaver, and beaver is what we
always used to call the hardest fur to trap."
"Well, Hugh," said Jack, "what about trapping wolves? Are they not
worth trapping? Are they hard to catch, or is it not much trouble to
catch young wolves?"
"Those that are one to two years old are easy caught, but if a wolf
has been traveling the prairie for three or four years, he gets to be
pretty smart. Wolf skins are worth from four to six dollars apiece, and
so, of course, wolves are worth trapping, but in old times we always
used to poison them, and that was cheaper and a whole lot less trouble
than catching them in traps. Besides that, a wolf is a powerful, strong
animal, and he can pack off a trap with him just as if he weren't
carrying anything at all. Then, too, on the prairie there is usually
nothing to fasten a trap to, and unless you carry a lot of iron picket
pins with you, you lose your traps about as fast as you can set them."
"You have told me all about poisoning wolves, Hugh," said Jack, "but
you never said anything about trapping, and I don't understand how you
fix the bait in a trap. You certainly can't put it on the pan, for you
don't want to catch the wolf by the nose, and if you did, he would pull
free."
"Of course he would," said Hugh; "you want to catch a wolf by the foot,
and to do that you must scatter your bait around the trap so that he
will put his foot in it; but after all, in trapping wolves you don't
use bait at all. Generally you use a scent, something that a wolf
smells and wants to smell more of, and you raise that above the ground
a foot or eighteen inches and set your trap so that he will step into
it when he tries to get near the scent."
"That's news to me," said Jack; "I supposed that you always set your
traps with something to eat."
"No," said Hugh; "very seldom. The beaver medicine that we use is
just something to smell of; not to eat at all. But about wolf bait:
the worst smelling thing that you can get hold of is about the best
bait for wolves. Some people use asafetida or other drugs that they
can buy in the shops, but the best thing that I know of is to take a
piece of fresh meat, put it with some grease in a wide-mouthed bottle
or jug, and let it stand in the heat for a week or two, until it gets
to smelling very badly. Then add to it some beaver castor and about
a quart of oil or grease, and cork it up tight. Of course, when you
set your trap you must be careful not to leave any scent of yourself
on it. Some people smoke their traps every time they set them, and if
they can, use a fire of green pine boughs, but I don't count much on
that. I believe that though smell of fire may kill the human scent, it
makes the wolves suspicious. I think the better way is to wear gloves
when you set your traps, and to be careful always to keep the traps to
the windward of you. Don't let the wind blow from you to the traps.
Of course, in setting, you have to dig out a hole in the ground large
enough to let the trap set in it, so that the jaws will be just level
with the ground. Then sprinkle over the trap a light covering of dust,
and after the trap is set take a stick eighteen inches or two feet
long, sharpen one end of it, dip the other end in your bottle of scent,
and stick the sharpened end in the ground so that the end with the
scent on it will pretty nearly overhang the trap.
"You have to fasten your trap, of course. If you don't do that the wolf
will carry it away. The best way to fasten it is to bore a hole through
the end of a stick three feet long and as big as the calf of your leg,
pass the end of a chain through that, and then drive a staple through
the ring and into the log. Then if the wolf gets into the trap, he is
not held in one place struggling to get out, and twisting the chain,
and so likely to break it, but he starts off dragging the stick, which
makes a plain trail, catching every now and then in the sage brush
and so making him go slowly. It doesn't give him a chance to fight the
trap. If you go to your traps every day, you will find that a wolf will
not drag the clog very far before you overtake him. Then you probably
have to shoot him.
"As I say, there is a lot of work in trapping wolves that way, and I
would hate to have to earn my living by doing it. If it should happen
that we should get to any place where wolves are plenty we can set two
or three traps for them, but I don't want to do that until we have
tried beaver trapping, because I am afraid we will lose some of our
traps."
"I had no idea, Hugh," said Jack, "that wolves were so cunning and so
powerful."
"Yes," said Hugh, "they are strong animals, and when they have grown
old they are pretty smart. They are mighty tough, too. Haven't I ever
told you about that wolf that Billy Collins killed three or four years
ago at the ranch?"
"No," said Jack, "I don't think so."
"Well," said Hugh, "I only speak of it to show how tough a wolf is.
Billy had gone out just in the gray dawn of the morning, and just as
he shut the door behind him, a big wolf came around the corner of the
house. Billy jumped back into the house to get his gun, and the wolf
ran off and stopped to look around on the top of that little knoll
south of the house. He was about a hundred yards off, and Billy fired
and the wolf yelled and fell down, and then started off. Billy and old
Shep, the house dog, started after him, and when they got up to where
he had stood, they found the ground all covered with blood and a broad
blood trail leading off over the hills. Billy started on the trail,
expecting to find the wolf over the next hill, but he followed him for
two miles before he overtook him, and then the wolf was strong enough
to sit up and fight off the dog, and needed another shot to kill him.
But when Bill went up to him he found that the bullet had gone almost
the whole length of the wolf and had smashed one of its shoulders. I
had a friend who was trapping down in South Park and set two or three
traps for wolves, and one morning when he found one of them gone, he
went back and got two or three hounds that were at the ranch and took
after the wolf through the snow, for it was winter. They chased that
wolf with the dogs for thirteen hours before they got him, and he came
mighty near getting away then."