Wild Beasts and Their Ways by Sir Samuel White Baker (adult books to read txt) 📕

long day's work, in which we had certainly "jumped" two bears, but had not succeeded in bagging one.

Texas Bill came to hold my horse upon our arrival; he was looking rather shy, and ill-at-ease. "What's the matter, Bill? anything gone wrong?" I asked.

"Well," he replied, "I hope you won't blame me, as I don't think it right, but you know where you killed a wapiti a couple of days ago, and we found the next morning that the bears had been and buried it; and you said we'd better leave the place quiet for a day, and then you'd go early in the morning, and perhaps find the bears upon the spot? Well, after you were gone with Bob this morning, Jem Bourne proposed that we should go and have a look at the place, and sure enough when we got there we found a great big bear fast asleep, lying on the top of the buried wapiti, and her two half-grown cubs asleep with her. So Jem had your Martini-Henry with him, and he killed the mother stone dead, through the shoulder. Up gets one of the young ones, and hits his brother (or sister) such a whack in the eye with his paw that it just made me laugh, and then he cuffs him again over the head, just as though it was his fault that the mother was knocked over. Jem had reloaded, so he put a bullet through this young fellow; and then putting in another cartridge, he floored the third, and they were all dead in less than a minute. It's a fine rifle is that Martini-Henry, but I think you'll be displeased, as we had no business to go nigh the place; it ain't my fault, and I wouldn't have done it myself, you may be sure."

This was a glorious triumph for the jealous Jem Bourne, who was highly offended at my having adopted the advice, and sought the assistance of Bob Stewart, to "jump a bear." We had returned as failures, and he had killed three bears with my rifle, within my sanctuary, which I had specially arranged for a visit upon the following day. He declared "that nobody should stop him from killing bears, as his right was just as good as mine." This poaching upon my preserves was rather too much for my patience, therefore without any discussion or angry words I gave him a note to carry 42 miles' distance on the following morning to a friend of mine at the second ranche. "What horse shall I ride ?" asked the fellow sullenly. "The white mule," I replied. "When am I to come back ?"--"Not till I send for you," was the answer; and Jem Bourne ceased to be a member of our party.

This was an excellent example, as many of these people are exceedingly independent, and although he received high wages (120 dollars monthly, in addition to his food, and a horse to ride), he considered that he was quite the equal of his employer. Although my other men received only half these wages, they were more useful, and after this dismissal we were far more comfortable.

It was a strange study of the Far West in these outlandish and utterly uninhabited districts. When looking down from the summit of the mountains, facing north, we were positively certain that for more than 100 miles in a direct line there was not a human habitation, and the nearest point of embryo civilisation was the Government Park on the Yellowstone river, at least 150 miles distant. In our rear we were 80 miles from the abandoned station of Powder River, with only two ranches in the interval. It may be readily imagined that the laws of civilised communities were difficult to administer in such a wilderness.

The nearest railway station was "Rock Creek," about 240 miles, upon the Union Pacific, from whence we had originally started; that point is about 7000 feet above the sea-level. A curious contrivance, slung upon leather straps instead of springs, represents a coach, which, drawn by four horses, plies to Fort Fetterman, 90 miles distant. During this prairie journey the horses are only changed twice.

There are no dwellings to be seen throughout the undulating mass of wild grass; this possesses extraordinary properties for fattening cattle, and wild animals; but after a weary drive along a track worn by wheels and other traffic, and occasionally well defined by empty tins that had contained preserved provisions, a small speck is seen upon the horizon, which is declared to be the station for spare horses.

Upon arrival at this cheerless abode we entered a small log-house, containing two rooms and a kitchen; but the cooking was conducted in the public room, an apartment about 13 feet square, with a useful kind of stove in one corner. The man who represented the establishment had of course observed the coach in the far distance, therefore he was not startled by the arrival of our party, which consisted of the Hon. Charles Ellis, Lady Baker, and myself. He had already begun to fry bacon in a huge frying-pan upon the little stove, and he had opened some large tins of preserved vegetables, in addition to another containing some kind of animal hardly to be distinguished. He had been successful that morning, having killed an antelope; therefore we had quite an entertainment in this log-hut, so far away from the great world.

The table was spread with a very dirty cloth, and our small party was immediately augmented by the arrival of the coachman (our driver), the man who looked after the horses, an outside passenger of questionable respectability, and our host, who had just cooked the bacon. It was an unexceptional fashion throughout the country to reduce all clothing to a minimum. Coats were unknown during the summer months (this was the middle of August); waistcoats were despised; and the costume of the period consisted of a flannel shirt, and a pair of trousers sustained by a belt in lieu of braces. Attached to this belt was the omnipresent six-shooter in its holster. I was the only person who possessed, or at all events exhibited, a coat; and I felt that peculiar and unhappy sensation of being over-dressed, which I feared might be mistaken for pride by our unsophisticated companions.

We were not a cheery party; on the contrary, everybody appeared to be so determined not to say the wrong thing, that they remained silent; the dullness of the meal was only broken at long intervals by such carefully expressed sentiments as "I'll trouble you to pass the salt, if you please," or "Will you kindly hand the bacon ?"

There was no vulgarity in this, and we were afterwards informed that these rough people, who, as a rule, season their conversation with the pepper of profanity, are painfully sensitive to the presence of a lady, before whom they are upon their P's and Q's of propriety; and, should an improper expression escape their lips in an unguarded moment, they would be in a state of deep depression from the keenest remorse, which might perhaps cause a sense of unhappiness for at least five minutes. They most sensibly refrained altogether from conversation in a lady's presence, to avoid the possibility of a "slip of the tongue."

If they could have left their perfume behind, together with the profanity, our table would have been sweeter; but the flannel shirts were seldom washed, to prevent shrinking, just as their owners seldom spoke, to avoid swearing; an overpowering smell of horses was emitted by the driver, and of stables by the ostler, while the proprietor exhaled the mixed but indescribable odours combined from his various duties, such as cooking, cleaning up, sleeping in his clothes, and never washing them.

The meal over, we again started. This stage was interesting, as we left the treeless expanse of prairie, and drove over highland through picturesque forests of spruce firs among rocks and canyons. About 20 miles of this scenery was passed; then we descended a long slope, and once more emerged upon the dreary, treeless prospect.

At the end of 35 miles another speck was seen, which eventually turned out to be a station similar to that at which we had halted in the morning. There were two pretty-looking and clean girls here; they had come to assist their brother, who "ran" the house. It was curious to observe the little evidences of civilisation which the presence of these girls had introduced. At first sight, among a rude community, I should have had strong misgivings concerning the security of young girls without a mother; but, on the contrary, I was assured that no man would ever presume to insult a respectable woman, and the girls were safer here than they would be at New York. It was a doughtful anomaly in a society which otherwise was exceedingly brutal, that a good woman possessed a civilising power which gained the respect of her rough surroundings, and, by an unpretentious charm, softened both speech and morals.

It was to be regretted that this benign influence could not have been extended to the vermin. When the lamp was extinguished, the bed was alive. I always marvelled at the phrase, "he took up his bed and walked," but if the bugs had been unanimous, they could have walked off with the bed without a miracle. Sleeping was impossible. I relighted the paraffin lamp, a retreat was evidently sounded, and the enemy retired. Presently an explosion took place--the lamp had gone wrong, and burst, fortunately without setting the place on fire. An advance was sounded, and the enemy came on, determined upon victory.

I never slept in one of those prairie stations again, but we preferred a camp sheet and good blankets on the sage-bush, with the sky for a ceiling.

On arrival at Fort Fetterman, 90 miles from Rock Creek station, the coach drew up at a loghouse of greater pretensions than those upon the prairie. I had letters of introduction from General McDowell (who was Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Coast) to Colonel Gentry, who commanded Fort Fetterman, and Major Powell of the same station.

Not wishing to drive up to the door of his private house, we alighted at the log-hut which represented the inn. The room was horridly dirty, the floor was sanded, and there was a peculiar smell of bad drink, and an expression of depravity about the establishment.

The host was a tall man, attired as usual in a flannel shirt and trousers, with a belt and revolver. He had evidently observed an expression of disgust upon our faces, as he exclaimed, "Well, I guess we ain't fixed up for ladies; and p'r'aps it's as well that you came to-day instead of last night, if you ain't fond of shooting affairs. You were just looking at that table and thinking the tablecover was a bit dirty, weren't you? Well, last night Dick and Bill got to words over their cards, and before Dick could get out his six-shooter, young Bill was too quick and resolute, and he put two bullets through him just across this table, and he fell over it on his face, and never spoke a word. It's a good job too that Dick's got it at last."

This little incident was quite in harmony with the appearance of the den. I knew that letters had been previously forwarded from San Francisco to the Commandant, therefore I strolled towards his quarters, to leave my card and letter of introduction.

Fort Fetterman is not a fort, but merely an open station, with a frontier guard of one company of troops. I met Colonel Gentry, who was, very kindly, on his way towards the inn to meet us on arrival. Upon