CHAPTER I
A COUNCIL OF WAR
"Well, Jack," said Mr. Sturgis, "I am glad to see you back again."
"Indeed, Uncle George, you can bet I am glad to get back," replied Jack. "I tell you it just made my heart rise up to ride over the prairie to-day; it seemed to me that I never smelt anything so good as the odor of the sage, and the little birds that kept getting up out of the road and flying ahead of the team and alighting again, seemed like old friends. Then we saw some antelope and a coyote or two. I tell you it was bully. It seemed mighty good, too, to see Hugh after all these months."
"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, "it is good to get you back, and I hope you will have a good summer. Have you thought of what you want to do?"
Jack shook his head. "No," he said, "I have not; it is good enough to be back. As soon as this storm is over I want to go out and take a ride and see the country again."
"Oh, this snow won't last long, though it's a pretty rough night now. Where were you on the road when it began to snow?" asked Mr. Sturgis.
"We were just about half through the Little Basin," said his nephew. "Hugh had been looking at the sky for quite a little while back, and said that it was going to snow. We drove pretty fast from the Troublesome until we got into the Big Basin; the snow didn't get very deep until about three or four miles back from here. From there on we had pretty slow driving."
"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, "suppose you go out and see if you can find Hugh, and ask him if he will come in here and sit with us for a little while; I want to talk with you both."
"All right," replied Jack, and he disappeared in the direction of the ranch kitchen.
It was about the middle of the month of May, and Jack Danvers, after a winter of hard work at school in the East, had come out by the Union Pacific Railroad to spend the summer at his uncle's ranch. His old friend, Hugh Johnson, had met him at the railroad station with a team of horses hitched to a spring-wagon, and the greater part of the drive of forty miles out to the ranch had been made in record time. Then it had begun to snow and blow furiously, and the last few miles of the distance had been passed over much more slowly. In these high altitudes in the Rocky Mountains, snowstorms are common in May and June; yet, though the snow may fall deep at such times, it lies on the ground for but a short time.
Jack and his uncle had been talking after supper in the comfortable sitting room of the ranch; a fire of dry aspen logs burned merrily in the large, open fireplace, and their cheerful crackling contrasted pleasantly with the howling of the wind without.
As Mr. Sturgis sat filling his pipe in front of the fire, he looked back over the years which had elapsed since he first began to take an active, vivid interest in this nephew of his. He remembered him as a small, pale, shrunken slip of a boy, who spent all his time curled up in a chair, devouring books; a boy seemingly without vitality and without any special interest in life. He remembered how the boy woke up and became alert when he had first spoken to him of the possibility of a trip to the West. How the little fellow had wondered at and enjoyed all the different incidents of life on a cow ranch; and how Hugh Johnson had taken to him, and instructed him in the lore of the prairies and mountains, in which Hugh was so well versed; and how year after year the boy had grown and strengthened, until now he was a young fellow of great promise. Within a few years the boy had changed from a child to something very like a man. While he was going over these years in his mind, Mr. Sturgis heard steps in the passage without, and then Jack's voice, and a moment later the door opened and Hugh Johnson and Jack stepped into the room.
"Sit down, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis, "and fill your pipe; I want to talk with you. You sit down, too, Jack. We have matters to discuss which will be interesting to both of you, I think. It was pretty hard hauling this afternoon, wasn't it?" he continued, addressing Hugh.
"Well, yes, Mr. Sturgis, it was so"; said the old man. "The snow finally got so deep that I would not force the horses. They are strong, and are willing, and they might have trotted, but we wasn't trying to catch a train, and they balled up pretty well in this wet snow, and I was afraid that they might slip and strain something. I reckon I told you that I had shod both of them, didn't I, when you said that you wanted me to go in for Jack?"
"No," said Mr. Sturgis, "I don't remember that you did, but it was a good thing to shoe them; the roads between here and town are cruel on horses' feet, and, while one trip won't wear down a team's feet, still, they have work to do all summer, and there is so much gravel in this soil that their feet would be bound to get tender before summer is over."
"Well," replied Hugh, "that's just the way I think. A pair of shoes in front will last them pretty nearly all summer, and when they are shod we know they won't get tender."
While he had been talking, Hugh had whittled himself some tobacco, ground it fine between the palms of his hands, filled his pipe and lit it, and now he sat comfortably by the blaze, with his head encircled by a smoke wreath.
"Well, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis, "I asked you to come in here so that we could talk about what you and Jack are going to do this summer."
"Well," said Hugh, "that's for you to say, I reckon. I'm working for you—at least I'm supposed to be working for you, but it seems to me that for the last three or four years I haven't been doing much work, because I've been off playing with Jack every summer. Lord, son," he continued with a smile, "what great travelers you and me are getting to be! First we went up to the Blackfeet and played with them a season; that's when you counted your first coup; and then we went up with them another year, and came down south through the mountains and saw all them hot springs in that country, that they used to call Coulter's Hell, in old times; and then last year we went out to the big water in the west and paddled around in the salt water and got fish. You and me surely have got to be great travelers."
"Well, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis, "I guess we will have to think up something for this year. Of course, you and Jack could sit around and look after the stock, just as the rest of us do here on the ranch, but I believe it would be better for you to go off and make a trip by yourselves. What do you think?"
"Well, Mr. Sturgis," said Hugh, "it really would be pleasant to go off and make a long trip, and there's lots of good country left yet that Jack has not seen, but I don't think I get exactly what you mean. If you will speak a little plainer I will understand better."
"It is like this, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis; "Jack is out here for the summer, and I want him to have a good time, and to see as much as he can of what there is in this country. It is all beginning to change here so fast that I am afraid the first thing we know the country will be full of people, and every time you want to ride off in some direction you will have to turn out for a wire fence, or you will get lost because there are so many roads running over the prairie. Where do you suppose you could take Jack this summer so as to give him a good time? Of course, I don't want you to take any chances, or to go where there is any danger, but, then, I know you won't do that, so I needn't speak about it."
For some moments Hugh sat silently puffing at his pipe and staring into the fireplace, while Jack, on his left hand, watched his face with absorbed interest, wondering what he would say. Presently he raised his head, and turning to Mr. Sturgis, said, "Well, Mr. Sturgis, there's a mighty nice trip to be made in the high mountains down to the southward. It's a country where there's no possible danger that I can see, though, as you know, it's only a little while ago that the Utes wiped out Major Thornburgh's command. Now everything is peaceable, and likely to remain so, I reckon."
"Where do you mean, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis, "down in the Parks of Colorado?"
"Yes, sir, that's what I mean. It's a great hunting ground down there still, and besides that, it is a fur country. I have been through there many times, and I never saw any place in the southern country where beaver were so plenty; besides that, as you know, it is up in the high mountains and the fur is good till midsummer. If you all think well of it, Jack and I could go down there and spend a couple of months trapping beaver, and if we have good luck, we might make quite a stake. We wouldn't need to carry much in the way of grub, for the country is full of game, and there are even some bison down there, though it ain't likely that we would get to see any of them. I don't know of any prettier mountains, or where you can live better than you can down there; deer, elk, antelope, sheep, trout, and birds, till you can't rest. That seems to me about the nicest trip one could make without going off far; what do you say to it?"
"That sounds good to me, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis. "What do you think about it, Jack?"
"Why," said Jack, "it sounds awful good to me. I never thought of making a trip this year. I just thought that I was to come out here and loaf around the ranch, and hunt, and help with the stock."
"No," said Mr. Sturgis, "I think it is better for you to be off in the mountains by yourselves, and if Hugh's plan suits you, it suits me, and you can say that it can be carried out."
"Splendid!" exclaimed Jack.
"But, Hugh," Mr. Sturgis went on, "what's the shortest way to get there; and how would you go?"
"Well," said Hugh, "if we should go, I'd say the best way to do would be to take two or three pack horses and start from here with them. Of course, you can drive a wagon all the way down there, through North and Middle and South Park, but I wouldn't want to take a wagon if I could help it. If you wanted to go up in the mountains, why, you'd have to come back to that wagon. You can't make any cut-offs, or short side trips; you've always got to get back to your wagon again. I say, take some pack animals, and then you will be perfectly foot-loose, and can go where you want to and as far as you want to. If I should go that way, I would start from here, go down the Muddy, cross the Medicine Bow, follow up Rock Creek, and cross over to the Laramie, and follow up the Laramie until I got into North Park. From there, it's plain sailing, either through the valley or among the mountains. Son, here, is a good packer, and with a simple outfit like that we can make good time."
"Then, when you get into the high mountains," said Mr. Sturgis, "you think you can get some beaver, do you?"
"Yes," assented Hugh, "unless things have changed there almightily within a few years. The last time I came through there, I was looking for beaver sign and it seemed to me that all the streams up the mountains were full of beaver, and, as I say, up there in that high country they hold their coats well, and you can trap them until July or August. Indeed, I have known of men that trapped right on through the whole summer, but I don't think it's a good thing to do."
"Is there any other fur there?" said Mr. Sturgis.
"Not much else," answered Hugh. "Of course, there are some marten, and now and then a wolverine or two, but you can't get them until the snow comes. Mink are not worth much, and otter are so few that you might as well count them out of the question, too; but there are some bears; in fact there should be a good many bears, and their coats are good until July; but if we are going to trap, beaver are what we would have to depend upon. Maybe we might catch a bear or two in a dead fall, but I wouldn't bother to take along one of those big steel traps on the chance of getting one or two hides with it. Those traps are not worth bothering with if you have a long way to go. They are all right to set around the ranch, if you think you need a bear hide, or if you have got a wagon to drive around in, but I have no use for them on a pack. I have heard lately that some of these pilgrims that come from the East and are stuck on getting bears, put out baits and set traps near them, but I never could see any fun in that sort of thing. If you want to hunt bears, why, hunt them, and prove that you are more cunning and skillful than they are. It's no fun to set a trap, and then when a bear gets into it to crawl up and shoot it. It is some fun to get the best of the shyest and wildest animal that goes on four legs, but I don't see where the fun comes in in trapping them, and then crawling up on them and killing them. It's too much like chopping a chicken's head off—and that wouldn't be very much fun for any of us."
"I agree with you, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis; "but you know there are all sorts of people back East, just as there are all sorts of people here, and some of those men who come out to hunt, take back great stories about the bears that they have trapped, and about the danger that they were in when they killed the bear. Of course, that does not seem to us very honest, but there are braggarts all over the world."
"That's so, Mr. Sturgis," said Hugh. "I guess the frauds are not confined to any one part of the country; you find them 'most everywhere."
"So you do, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis, as he knocked out his pipe against the stones of the fireplace.
"Well," he went on, "about the trip that you and Jack are going to make. Let's think it over for a day or two, and if it still seems good to you, the sooner you start the better."
"Very well," said Hugh. "The sooner we get started the better the fur will be, and the longer it will last. We'll chew on it for a day or two, son, and see what we can make out of it." So saying, Hugh rose from his seat, knocked out his pipe, and saying good-night to Mr. Sturgis, disappeared down the passage.
Before long Jack and his uncle went to bed—Jack to dream of the glories of the trip, and the beaver he was to trap.