The Life of a Fossil Hunter

by Charles H. Sternberg

When about sundown we hove-to under the big steamer, the deck was crowded with passengers watching our approach. Cope was covered with mud from head to foot, and his clothing, with hardly a seam whole, hung from him in wet, dirty rags. He had forgotten to bring along any winter wearing apparel, so, although the nights were quite cold, and the women were clad in fur coats and the men in ulsters, he emerged from the sergeant’s tent, whither he had carried his grip, in a summer suit and linen duster.

He told me about a funny experience that he had on the boat on the way down the river. It goes without saying that in that long trip he taught the passengers more natural science than they had ever learned in all their lives before. At a certain wood-camp, he and some others went ashore and found the skull of a Crow Indian. The Crow method of burial was to wrap the body in a blanket, lay it on the ground, and build around it an open frame of logs, to keep away wild animals. It was an easy matter to pick up a skull.

The Professor carried his find aboard in his hands before everyone, and was beginning to tell his enlightened listeners the special cranial characteristics of this tribe, when a body of deckhands, headed by their appointed speaker, came forward and told the captain that they would not allow Professor Cope to “emulate the dead.” He must take the skull back to its grave or they would not remain aboard and take the boat down to Omaha.

“Why,” said the speaker earnestly, “we will be caught on every mud bank in the river, and there is no telling what calamities will happen, if he is allowed to emulate the dead.”

There was no getting them to back down from their position, and the Crow’s skull was restored to its grave. But the Professor said afterwards, “We had about a dozen skulls packed in with the fossils, and in spite of them, reached Omaha without having to walk on stilts, as had been prophesied.”

Shortly after the Professor left us, I discovered a fine specimen, one of those mentioned earlier in this chapter, three miles below Cow Island, near the base of a high tableland, where I kept my pony picketed while I worked. One day, when I prepared to mount him, I noticed that he was unusually quiet. His custom was to start on a run as soon as my foot touched the stirrup, leaving me to get into the saddle as best I could. This time he stood still, and when I reached my seat and lifted the lines, I found that they were perfectly useless, as the curb was broken.

Before I could dismount, the brute started at a rapid pace across the tableland toward a sheer precipice, hundreds of feet high. I settled myself firmly in the saddle and hung on with both hands to the hand-holds behind, fearing that he might try to hurl me over; and that was just what he did. When he got within a few inches of the brink, he planted his feet and stopped suddenly. But Providence and long practice in riding all kinds of horses enabled me to keep my seat, and fortunately, the saddle girths held.

I was just about to dismount, when suddenly the determined animal whirled around and started for the precipice on the other side, where he went through the same performance. And not satisfied even then, tried the trick a third time. Then he allowed me to dismount and mend the curb. In payment for his treachery, I forced him to run at full speed down the steep and rugged trail to camp.

This chapter has been largely taken up with adventures and a study of the man Cope; but as a matter of fact, there was little else to tell about, as we were in such haste that we secured few specimens, and the most important result of the expedition was our discovery of many new specimens of dinosaurs, represented chiefly by teeth.

On the first of November a heavy snowstorm set in, promising to leave the country covered with snow for the winter; so we loaded our outfit and started for Fort Benton. The sergeant went with us, very fortunately, as it proved; for one night, as we were camping in the Bear Paw Mountains, one of our crazy mustang wheelers heard a wolf howl and started on a run for one of the other horses which was picketed farther down the slope. Coming suddenly to the end of its rope, its feet slipped, and it fell and broke its neck. But for the sergeant’s horse we could not have hauled in our load.