CHAPTER VI
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."