Wild Sports in the Far West

by Friedrich Gerstäcker

Brogan, who had listened to it all with a contemptuous smile, was now questioned; all attempts to make him confess were in vain; he denied having had any share in the crime, and was tied up to a tree and dreadfully beaten. It was a horrible sight. At first he gave vent to volleys of oaths and abuse; then he was silent for a long time, and bore the severe blows with wonderful firmness; at length he gave a deep groan, and called out, “Oh, my poor wife and children.”

Two negroes now made their appearance with spades and dug a grave; they were followed by a white man with a cord in his left hand, and a piece of tallow, with which he kept greasing the cord in his right, looking as unconcerned as possible all the time, though he knew it was intended to hang the poor wretch. This seemed rather too severe, and several of us now stepped forward, and persuaded those who seemed most open to pity, that if they had resolved to hang the man, they ought not first to have lacerated him so dreadfully: this seemed evident to the others, so it was put to the vote, and his life was spared on condition that he left the country within four weeks, and never returned to it again. He made no promise, and as he was cast off, he fell senseless on the grass.

I had seen quite enough. Hogarth and I trotted off to the mountains to think seriously about our shooting; my comrade was very pensive; I heard afterwards that there were good reasons for it, as no slight suspicions rested on him.

As the weather was warm and pleasant, we resolved to look for bees as well as deer; for we had each a great longing for honey. We placed the bait in the empty shell of a tortoise, and separated in chase of deer. Hogarth had a call with him and attempted to attract the does by imitating the cry of their fawns; a most disgraceful practice, which is too often indulged in. This practice is most abominable, on two accounts: first, because it is base and cruel to lure the mother to her destruction by imitating the cry of her young; secondly, because it so rapidly exterminates all the game, by killing off the does, and leaving the fawns to perish with hunger, when they are too young to find their own nourishment. Although I scorned to adopt such a vile practice, I shot a two-year-old buck, while Hogarth shot nothing.

At nightfall, the winds seemed to break loose from all the thirty-two points of the compass at once, to blow down all the old fir-trees in the forest; towards midnight the storm subsided, and changed into such heavy rain that I was obliged to cut a channel with my knife round our blanket tent to carry off the water.

On the next morning Slowtrap joined us with his own and Hogarth’s dogs, as he wanted to find a bear which was paying rather too much attention to his pigs. The dogs soon found the trail, and after a pretty fight, Slowtrap knocked him over with his rifle ball, just as I was near getting the worst of it by being too forward with my knife. We found bees the same evening.

The sun had just set, when gaining the crest of a hill, I caught sight of a young deer quietly feeding. I raised the rifle, and was in the act of pressing the trigger, when I saw the antlers of a very large buck, who was walking slowly past the other, unsuspicious of harm. I had often heard old hunters talk of the buck fever, but could never form a just idea of the meaning of it; at this moment, however, I felt its full effects. My anxiety to shoot the buck was so great, that I trembled in every limb, and could not steady the rifle. At length the deer discovered me, and raised his noble head. I knew that the decisive moment was come, and, although the sight of the rifle quivered over his whole form, I pulled the trigger. He gave a bound and disappeared: I found some blood where he had been standing, but the color was not very satisfactory, and I followed the trail in vain; he had escaped with a slight wound.

I returned to the camp out of humor;—and with reason,—I had lost three pair of good moccasins by my bad shot, and was almost barefoot. Hogarth and Slowtrap had killed a few deer, and saved the brains for me, and I thought I had now enough for my skins. Next day we went after bees, and found two trees, one of which we cut down—on which occasion I got dreadfully stung.

I now thought it time to return to my work, and was tired of going about in shirt sleeves. I took the brains which Hogarth and Slowtrap had given me, with what I had myself collected, returned to Slowtrap’s, and set to work in earnest with my skins. For the benefit of those who may be interested in the subject, I will describe the Indian method of dressing skins. They are laid in water to soak for a whole night; next morning they are taken out, placed on a smooth board, and the hair scraped off. This done, the brains are mixed with an equal quantity of water in an iron pot, and rubbed well into the skins, one brain being generally enough for one skin; the brains having previously been put in a coarse linen bag, boiled for an hour, and then left to cool. As soon as cool enough for the hand to bear it, they are rubbed through the bag, giving the water a milky color, and leaving only the fibrous parts in the bag. The skins are put into the pot, and well kneaded, so that they may be thoroughly saturated with the mixture; then taken out, well wrung, and hung up to dry. Before this, they must be well rubbed and pulled across a sharp board till they are dry, as white as snow, and as soft as velvet. Yet if they get wet they become as hard as a stone; to prevent this, all the glutinous substance must be destroyed by smoke. Therefore two of them are sown together in a bag, a hole is made in the ground, about sixteen inches deep and about eight inches wide, in which a fire is lighted. As soon as it is in a bright glow, rotten wood is laid on to make a thick smoke, and the skins are placed over it, mouth downwards, till they are so thoroughly penetrated by it, that they begin to turn brown on the outside. They are then turned inside out, and the process repeated; when finished, neither water nor sun will hurt them more, and their color is a yellowish-brown.

As soon as my skins were all properly dressed, I went to an old backwoodsman of the name of Wallis, whose wife cut out a hunting-shirt for me, in which she used the best part of five skins, and showed me how to sew them. After three days of industrious tailoring, I succeeded in producing the perfection of a hunting-shirt. I now cut out a pair of new moccasins from the skin of an old deer, that I had dressed with the others; took some of the bark of the black walnut tree, with a little green vitriol, and gave my new dress the proper forest tint,—and I was once more fitted out in the regular garb of a backwoodsman.