The hero of the following adventure was a middle-aged hunter who trapped
in the Bighorn Mountains. He knew as much about the habits of Indians
and wild animals as any man I ever met. I had accepted an invitation to
visit his camp, and thus found myself many a mile from civilization on
the third day after leaving the line of the Union Pacific Railroad. He
received me with all the cordiality of a Western hunter, and after he
had hobbled my mustang and turned him loose to graze, he told me that he
would start for the foot-hills in two hours, if I were not too tired to
travel further that day. I replied that I was not, and in five hours
from that time we were safely lodged in a brush hut on one of the long
spurs of the Snowy Range. Having taken the precaution to look for Indian
signs, we retired to bed at an early hour. But our sleep was disturbed
so much by the weird howling of packs of hungry coyotes that we might as
well have sat up all night.
We breakfasted, long before dawn, by the light of the camp fire. The
morning being exceedingly chilly, we started out as soon as it was light
enough to enable us to see the ground distinctly; but though we walked
rapidly, I found my teeth chattering despite all my efforts to stop
them, while my breath curled slowly upward in the air as if it were a
miniature Russian bath.
Our route led us through a dark chasm, so terrible in its cavernous
gloom that I believe my teeth chattered a little more, while the silence
was so oppressive that I felt as if I had the nightmare.
We finally reached the summit of the chasm, and entered a pine forest,
where the antlered monarchs of the mountains were supposed to reign; but
after walking for half an hour, we failed to find any of them. Meanwhile
the clouds poured down a shower that wet us to the skin, and as it froze
as it fell, we were almost benumbed with cold. We trudged onward,
however, and trod as lightly on the crackling bushes as if they were
eggs, and deer were concealed in every leaf.
Walking as carefully as we could, we peered into every bush for the
large black eyes of our intended victims. When we reached a coppice of
trees that skirted a thread-like brook, my companion stopped suddenly,
and pointed ahead. Looking in the direction indicated, I saw a group of
deer partially hidden in dense shrubbery. The leader of the party, a
magnificent stag, held his head proudly erect, and listened attentively
for the footsteps of a foe, while the dear little ladies of his family
daintily nibbled at some tender leaves, feeling safe under his powerful
protection.
The hunter fired at the stag so quickly that the whole band had
disappeared amid a shower of leaves before I thought of lifting my
rifle.
"Hit," was all my companion said as he dashed after the fugitives. I
followed him, but I was soon left so far in the rear that I could
neither see nor hear him.
Not liking the idea of being left alone, I kept running aimlessly on. I
wanted to shout for him, but dared not; so I wandered hither and
thither. I crossed one cañon, and was about to recross it, when I heard
a shot on the opposite side. Looking in that direction, I saw the
hunter, rifle in hand, standing over the prostrate form of the stag. I
was about to join him, when I was astounded by seeing the apparently
dead animal spring to its feet, charge the hunter in the most desperate
manner, knock him down, and stamp on him. The assailed man responded to
this challenge by drawing his knife, and plunging it into the neck of
his assailant. I was so stupefied at the attack that I looked on for
some time before I realized the danger of the situation; but when I
recovered my wits I hastened to my friend's assistance. It took me some
time to reach him, and when I did, I found him and the deer lying on the
ground close together. The latter was dead, and the hunter seemed to be,
for his clothes were badly torn, he was covered with blood, and the
ground for a radius of several yards was trampled as if a band of
gladiators had been using it for a battle-ground.
On examining my friend I found that he was wounded in the chest, arms,
and legs, and completely exhausted by the struggle. I gave him a drink
of water, which so revived him that he was soon able to sit up and tell
me of his terrible struggle for life. It was, it seems, up to the last
moment a question which would prove the victor, for whatever advantage
his knife gave the hunter was more than counterbalanced by the powerful
antlers of his assailant, which were used in the most effective manner.
The hunter was about giving up the struggle, from exhaustion, when, by a
lucky blow, he cut the jugular vein of his adversary, and both fell
almost together.
When he finished his description of the contest, I led him to the
stream, where his wounds were washed. Finding after a while that he was
strong enough to walk, we returned to camp, leaving the slain animal as
food for carnivorous birds and beasts. We staid in camp that night, and
returned to his home the next day, where he received such primitive
treatment as his half-breed wife could give him. From the nearest
railway station I sent him bandages and medicines by a messenger. I have
since learned that he was confined to the house for several months, and
that it was only his splendid constitution which enabled him to recover.
But he is only a wreck of what he was, and is totally unfit to follow
his former arduous profession. Such are some of the pleasures of the
chase.