Jack the Young Trapper: An Eastern Boy's Fur Hunting in the Rocky Mountains

by George Bird Grinnell

"Well, now," said Hugh, "I'll tell you. You say they have no sense. Perhaps they don't understand what we're trying to do and where we are trying to go. I'll go over there and sit down and smoke, and while I'm doing that it might be a good idea for you take each one of the horses off by itself and tell it where we are going to, and why we are going, and why he must not go back."

For a moment Jack felt rather silly, and then he burst out laughing and said, "Hugh, you are the queerest chap I ever saw. I never met anybody that could make a fellow see so plainly what a fool he was making of himself. It's pretty silly to get angry at these horses because they don't want to leave their range; how could they be expected to know anything about going in one direction or another? I will try to keep my temper better, and handle the horses with better judgment."

"Do so," said Hugh. "But now, I tell you what we can do. Suppose you lead for a while if you feel like it, and I'll follow and drive the horses. All you've got to do is to keep straight ahead down the valley, and along toward night we'll come to the mouth of the Muddy and camp there."

"No, sir!" said Jack. "You go ahead and lead; there's where you belong, and I'll follow and drive the horses; it will give me a lesson in patience, and that is something that I need. You and the Indians we have hunted with have taught me to be patient in hunting, but I have not learned to be patient with horses."

"All right," said Hugh, "I'll go ahead, or I'll come behind, just whichever you please; but if I'm to go ahead, you drive the horses with good sense."

"I'll try," said Jack, and from that time on the horses, very largely owing to the way in which they were treated, went along much better.

There was little that was interesting on the road for the greater part of the day. On either side of the stream stretched the wide sage plain of silvery green. Beyond this plain, to the right, rose the tall naked hills, almost blood red, while to the left, as far off, was a yellow, chalky bluff. Among the red hills Jack had several times been hunting deer and elk, and just beyond the chalky bluff was Bate's Hole, where Jack had killed his first mule deer.

It was but a little after noon when Hugh stopped his horse, and when Jack had come close to him, said, "Son, there are some antelope over this next hill, and we need fresh meat; why not slip off your horse and go up to the top of the next hill and see if you can find a buck that you can kill."

"All right," said Jack. He jumped from the saddle, threw down the reins and started for the crest of the ridge beyond. As he slowly and carefully advanced, he saw, not far ahead of him, a pair of small horns, which he knew must belong to a yearling buck antelope, and dropping on his knees, he crept forward until close to the ridge; then slowly raising his head, he saw but a short distance from him a fine young buck antelope looking across the valley and standing broadside on. Jack raised his gun and fired, and the antelope fell, while a half dozen others not seen before rushed into view from behind the hill and scampered off into the plain. The one that Jack had shot struggled to his feet and stood with lowered head, facing in the direction in which its comrades had gone. Jack threw his rifle to his shoulder again, intending to shoot once more, but the antelope looked as if it were badly wounded, and he did not think that it could run far. Turning about, he signaled Hugh to come on, saw him ride over to Pawnee, grasp the bridle reins and start towards him. Then Jack slowly walked over the crest and up to the antelope. There was, of course, a possibility that the animal might run, and Jack cocked his rifle and held it at a "ready," but the antelope, shot through the lungs, was breathing heavily and was in no condition to run away. Still, it kept its feet, and Jack was doubtful as to how to handle it. He certainly did not care to go in front of it and take it by the horns, and he did not like to put down his gun and attempt to stab it with his butcher knife. Finally he put down the gun close by the antelope, and stepped up behind it with drawn butcher knife, caught its hind leg and tried to hamstring it. It was not until then that he realized something of the strength of even so small an animal as this. It kicked and struggled, and Jack, while he managed to keep his hold of the leg, was shaken and twisted about in a way that greatly astonished him. He dared not let go, for fear the antelope would run away, but he had no idea as to how long the struggle would last. However, after a minute or two, which seemed to him like a very long time, the antelope's efforts grew weaker, and finally it fell over on its side. By the time Hugh had come up with the horses, Jack had cut the little buck's throat.