The Project Gutenberg eBook, Jack, the Young Ranchman, by George Bird Grinnell

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JACK, THE YOUNG RANCHMAN

"JACK COULD NOT UNDERSTAND WHY THE CALF HAD NOT BEEN CHOKED TO DEATH."—Page [101].

JACK,
THE YOUNG RANCHMAN

OR

A BOY'S ADVENTURES IN THE ROCKIES

BY
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL
Author of "Pawnee Hero Stories," "Blackfoot Lodge Tales," Etc.

NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1899,
By Frederick A. Stokes Company

Nineteenth Printing

Printed in the United States of America

PREFACE.

Far away in the west, close to the backbone of the continent, lies the sage-brush country where the happenings described in the following pages took place.

The story is about real things and about real people, many of whom are alive to-day. The ranch lies in the Rocky Mountains, in a great basin, walled in by mountains on every hand, and 7,500 feet above the level of the sea.

The life there was exciting. There was good hunting—antelope and elk and bears and buffalo; and, far away—yet near enough to be very real—there were wild Indians.

It is a pleasure to review those days in memory.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

JACK, THE YOUNG RANCHMAN

CHAPTER I
JACK DANVERS

The door-bell rang, and from the library Jack heard the soft tread of Aunt Hannah, as she walked through the hall to answer it. There was a murmur of voices, and then Hannah's tones, loud and high pitched: "Guns! no indeedy, chile, ye can't leave 'em here. Not here, chile. Take 'em away. No, I don't keer if they is Mr. Sturgis'. Go 'way. I won't take 'em. Gib 'em to the policeman; ye can't get me to tetch 'em. Go 'way."

"What is it, Hannah?" said Jack, as he went to the door.

"Don't ye come here, honey. This man here, he's got some guns he wants to leave. Says they're for your Uncle Will. Don't ye go near 'em."

"These are two rifles that Mr. Genez has been sighting. Mr. Sturgis told him to deliver them here to-day," said the messenger.

"All right; give 'em to me," said Jack, as he took them; and the messenger ran down the steps.

"Oh look out, honey, look out," said Aunt Hannah, shrinking away from Jack; "they'll go off and kill you, sure."

"Pshaw, Hannah," said Jack, "what are you talking about? "They wouldn't go off of themselves, and anyhow they ain't loaded."

"There, what'd I tell ye?" cried Aunt Hannah. "Do be keerful. Many's the time I heard your grandpaw say them's the most dang'ous kind. He allus did say that it was the guns that wan't loaded that went off and killed folks. 'Deed he did."

Jack took the guns up to his uncle's room, and put them on the bed, and went back to the library. He had hardly got there, and gone to the window to look out into the darkening street, when he heard the front door close and a quick, light footfall in the hall.

"Oh, Uncle Will," he said, "is that you?"

"Hello, Jack, are you there?" was the reply. "I want to speak to you," and a moment later Mr. Sturgis entered the room and stepped over to the fireplace.

"Well, Jack," said he, "are you ready to start in to-morrow to be a cowboy?"

"Yes, Uncle Will, I'm all ready," was the reply.

"You're sure you don't want to back out now? You know," added Mr. Sturgis, "that you may see some rough times. Some days you will be wet and cold and hungry, and will wish that you were in a good house and by a warm fire, with a hot meal ready for you. It isn't all fun and play and good times out on the ranch."

"I know that, Uncle Will," answered Jack, "but there must be plenty of fun, too, and I think I am going to like it."

"I believe so, too, my boy, but I want you to remember that there are two sides to almost everything. You will have lots of fun on the ranch, and that is what you think most of now, but you must remember also that it will not be all pleasure and no pain."

"Why, Uncle Will, don't you suppose I know that? A fellow's bound to be too hot or too cold sometimes, and to hurt himself now and then, but I guess I can stand it, and I don't think you need feel afraid that I'll want to come home before I have to." As he said this, Jack looked quite injured, and stood very straight.

"No, no, my boy. I don't doubt your pluck; but I want you to understand well before we start what it is that you have to look forward to.

"Now," continued Mr. Sturgis, "everything is ready for our start, and all we have to do to-morrow is to go to the train and get into the sleeping-car."

"Let's sit down in front of the fire and talk a little, Uncle Will. You have plenty of time before dinner, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have half an hour before it will be time to dress; I'll smoke a pipe and talk to you for that time. Now, ask your questions."

Jack Danvers was a New York boy about fourteen years old. He lived in East 38th Street, near Park Avenue, and Mrs. Danver's brother, Will Sturgis, had a ranch out on the Plains, on which were many horses and cattle. Mr. Sturgis spent the summer on the ranch, but often came to New York for the winter. The ranch was in a wild country, where there were bears and elk and deer and antelope, and sometimes buffalo and Indians.

Jack was not a very strong boy. He was slim and pale and spent most of his time reading, instead of playing out of doors as all boys should. In the summer when he was in the country and in the open air he grew brown and hearty, but through the winter he became slender and white again.

Jack had no brothers and sisters, and his parents were often anxious about his health. They had thought several times of moving to the country to live, so that Jack might have an out-door life all the year round, but Mr. Danvers' business was so confining that he was obliged to be in town constantly, and Mrs. Danvers was not willing to leave him.

Dr. Robertson, whom Mr. Danvers had consulted, had given much thought to the boy's case, and at last had advised his mother to send him out to his uncle's ranch for a year, or at least for a summer, telling her that a few months of rough life in the open air would do him more good than all the medicines in the world. When Dr. Robertson told her this, Mrs. Danvers at first thought the advice dreadful. She said, "Oh, doctor, I couldn't think of doing that. Why the life out there is one of constant danger and hardship. There are cowboys and Indians and wild animals of all sorts. I should never have an easy moment while Jack was away."

"My dear madam," said the doctor, "medicine is often very unpleasant to take, unpleasant for the patient and sometimes for his friends as well. I can build your boy's system up from time to time with tonics, but I can do him no permanent good. My medicines are only palliatives; the real trouble is with his environment. If the conditions of his life are changed, he will be certain to throw off the lassitude and weakness which he now feels, and to become a stout and hearty boy about whose general health you need have no farther concern; but it is important that now, when eight or ten years of schooling and study are before him, he should have a well-nourished body. I know of nothing that promise so much in this direction as a course of open-air life and vigorous exercise. Now he stays too much in the house and cares for nothing but books. This is not natural for a boy of his age. He ought to be full of animal spirits and to be working them off by climbing trees, running races and fighting. Think this matter over carefully, Mrs. Danvers, and let me know what you and your husband decide."

After much thought and many long talks, the parents had at last made up their minds to let their boy go. All preparations had been made, and on the next day Jack and his uncle were to take the train for the Far West.

"Well, Uncle Will," said Jack, "first, I want to know how long it will take us to get out to the ranch?"

"Five days, unless something happens to delay us," said Mr. Sturgis.

"Next," said Jack, "I want to know what I can do on the ranch. I want to help in the work, you know, but I don't know how to ride, or how to do anything that you have to do out there among the cattle and horses. I'll have to learn a great deal before I can be of any use."

"Yes, of course, you will have to learn. You will pick up riding and roping readily enough, but to learn the ways of the prairie and the mountains is not so easy, and unless you are with some one that knows all that and tries to teach you, it will take you a long time to learn. You can easily learn the cowboy part of your education from almost any of us out at the ranch, but there is only one man there who can teach you how to become a good mountain man; that is old Hugh Johnson. He has lived on the plains and in the mountains for more than forty years, and has hunted, trapped and fought Indians from the Mississippi to the Pacific, and from the Saskatchewan to the Rio Grande. He knows the plains and the mountains better than any one I ever saw, and is like an Indian for reading sign."

"What do you mean by reading sign, Uncle Will?" said Jack.

"Sign is a word which may mean a great many things. Sign may be the tracks of animals, or of people, or the smoke of fires, or an old camp, or clothing dropped by some one who has passed along. Anything that shows that animals or people have been in a certain place is called sign. Sign may be old or fresh, and there is always something about it that should tell you more than the mere fact that whatever made it has been there. You ought to be able to tell when the sign was made, and sometimes how it came to be made. Sometimes the sign is merely the way the wild animals act. I remember years ago, when the Sioux and Cheyennes were troublesome, I was travelling alone with Hugh, and one night when we camped, he rode out to kill a buffalo heifer. Before long he came back and told me that he had seen Indian sign, and that as soon as it was dark we must start and travel on all night. When I asked him what he had seen, he said that the animals were uneasy and the buffalo were running, and that some one was chasing them not far off. We hid our horses in a ravine and crept on top of a near-by hill from which we could see a good stretch of country. Sure enough, before long we saw buffalo running as if frightened, and a little later we saw, far off, two Indians chasing a little bunch. We lighted no fire that evening, but soon after dark rode away, and did not rest till we had put forty miles behind us."

"Do you think they would have tried to kill you, if they had seen you?" asked Jack.

"I don't know," said his uncle, "we were not taking any chances.

"Now, when you get to the ranch," he went on, "you will learn a lot about the birds and animals, and if your tastes lie that way, and you keep your eyes open, you will find out much of the life of these wild things that few people know. Although I have been out there so many years and have always tried to observe things, I see every season something that I never saw before, and learn more and more how little I really know about the beasts and the birds of the west—even those that are most common about the ranch. Only last year I saw for the first time a little blind coyote puppy dug out from a hole in a ravine and was astonished to find that, instead of being yellow it was dark blue, almost black in fact. You could get a great collection of pets together at the ranch. Young elk, young antelope and deer and wolves, possibly a buffalo calf, some foxes, and birds of a dozen different kinds, grouse, ducks, magpies, young hawks. Why, you could have a regular menagerie."

"Oh, what fun that would be," said Jack. "I should like that. But how do you catch all these things? I supposed that young deer and antelope could run so fast that they could not be caught. I thought that they ran even faster than the old ones."

"They can run very fast and they are hard to catch as soon as they are a few weeks old," said his uncle; "but when they are quite young—for the first few days after they are born—they can scarcely run at all. During this time the mother hides them, telling them, I suppose, in her own language, to lie perfectly still until she returns. The young one lies flat on the ground, and the old mother goes off a little way—not far though—and feeds about. If she sees any one coming, or if danger of any kind threatens, she runs away and only returns after it is past. Meanwhile, the little one, lying there among the grass or weeds or undergrowth, and keeping perfectly still, is not noticed by the hunter or the wild animal that is passing along, and when the mother returns, she finds it just where she left it. It is said that at this time of their lives, these young animals give out no scent, and so they are not found by the wolves, unless these brutes happen to come right upon them."

"Well, but how do you catch them then?" said Jack.

"When we see an old doe antelope by herself on the prairie at about the season of the year when the young are born, we watch her and we can tell pretty well whether she has a young one or not. If we think she has a kid, we can get some idea of where it is hidden by the way the mother acts. Then the only way to find it is to go to the place and search the ground over foot by foot, until the young one is found or the task is given up. Usually both kids will be found side by side, but sometimes they are three or four feet apart. When they are taken up, they do not struggle or try to get away. They hang perfectly limp, and if you try to make them stand up, their legs give way under them and they sink down again. It is often twenty-four hours before they seem to take any interest in what is going on about them, but when they get hungry, and after they have once drunk some milk, they are tame, and as soon as they become strong, very playful. Young antelope are not always easily reared, but young deer and elk are more hardy. If a buffalo calf is caught it can be given to a cow to rear. Wolf or coyote puppies can be reared on a bottle. Those animals do not easily become tame and trustful. They are likely to be shy and to dodge and jump away if any sudden motion is made, but when they are pleased, when any one in whom they have confidence approaches them, they lay back their ears and wag their tails and wriggle their bodies just like an affectionate dog. Once we had a young bear at the ranch for a year and a half, and he was an amusing pet. If you gave him a bottle of milk he would stand on his hind legs, and holding the bottle in both hands he would tilt it up and let the milk trickle down his throat until the bottle was empty, when he would throw it away."

"Uncle Will, I think we're going to have a splendid time out west. I don't feel as if I could wait for to-morrow to come."

"It will be here before you know it, old fellow; and we'll be at the ranch before you know it too."

CHAPTER II
PRAIRIE WOLVES AND ANTELOPE

One morning, a few days later, a train was speeding westward among the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, bearing the travellers towards their summer home. The grey monotone of the prairie was unbroken by any bit of colour. The soil, the sage-brush, the dead grass that had grown the summer before, were all grey, unvaried except where a great rock or a bush taller than its fellows cast a long black shadow. Now and then the train passed close to some high butte, whose sides were gashed and gullied by deep ravines, and whose summit was crowned by a scattered fringe of black pines. Far off on either side, rose great mountains, covered with a mantle of snow, the most distant looking like far-off white clouds. From this snowy covering long fingers of white ran down the narrow valleys and ravines, seeming like white clasps holding the covering close in its place. The nearer foothills were white towards their tops, and against the shining snow the black pine trees stood out in strong contrast. Scattered over the grey plain were horses and cattle, most of them in little herds, but now and then a single cow was seen and near her a staggering calf, which had just been born, to face the scorching heats and bitter colds of the high plains.

Suddenly as the train rushed around a low knoll, a dozen animals were seen, running swiftly along, parallel with the track, and less than three hundred feet distant. In colour they were bright yellow, almost red, with white patches and white legs, and two or three of them had black and nearly straight horns. They were graceful, and ran very swiftly, easily keeping pace with the train.

"Oh, Uncle Will," said Jack, grasping his uncle's arm, "what are those? They're not deer, I am sure. They must be antelope. How pretty they are, and see how fast they run! Why, they are going faster than the train, I do believe. They just seem to skim over the ground."

"Yes, those are antelope, the swiftest animal on the plains. And yet the coyotes catch a good many of them, just by running them down. Now, how do you suppose they do that, Jack?" and his uncle smiled at the boy's puzzled expression.

"I don't know. You said they were the swiftest animals on the plains, and yet you say that the coyotes catch them. That seems to mean that the coyotes are swifter. Doesn't it?" asked Jack.

"Not exactly," replied his uncle; "it only means that they are smarter—more cunning. A single coyote who undertook to run down a single antelope, would get very tired and very hungry before he accomplished it, but when two or three coyotes are together, it is quite a different thing. The coyotes do not all run after the antelope together. They take turns, and while one runs, the others rest, so at last they tire the antelope out."

"But I should think that when the antelope ran, it would leave all the wolves behind, those that were resting even more than the one that was chasing it."

"It would do so if it ran straight away and out of the country, but this it does not do. Instead, it runs in large circles. When three or four prairie wolves decide that they want antelope meat for breakfast, one of them creeps as close as possible to the animal they have selected, and then makes a rush for it, running as fast as he possibly can, so as to push the antelope to its best speed and to tire it out. Meantime his companions spread out on either side of the runner, and get on little hills or knolls, so as to keep the chase in sight. They trot from point to point, and pretty soon when the antelope turns and begins to work back towards one of them, this one tries to get as nearly as possible in its path, and as it flies by, the wolf dashes out at it and runs after it at the top of its speed, while the one that had been chasing the antelope stops running, and trots off to some near-by hill, where, while the water drips off his lolling tongue, he watches the race and gets his breath again. After a little the antelope passes near another coyote, which takes up the pursuit in its turn. And so the chase is kept up until the poor antelope is exhausted, when it is overtaken and pulled down by one or more of the hungry brutes."

"Why, I should think the coyotes would kill all the antelope after awhile," said Jack.

"Of course the coyotes do not catch every antelope they start," said his uncle. "Sometimes the game runs such a course that it does not pass near any of the waiting wolves, and only the one that starts it has any running to do. Then the chase does not last long; the wolves give up. Sometimes the antelope is so stout and strong that it tires out all its pursuers. Yet they catch them more frequently than one would think, and it is not at all uncommon to see coyotes chasing antelope, although, of course one does not often see the whole race and its termination. Often if a wolf running an antelope comes near to a man, he gives up the chase and that particular antelope is saved. It is a common thing for a single coyote to chase an old doe with her kids, just after the little ones have begun to run about. At that time they are very swift for short distances, but have not the strength to stand a long chase. In such a case a mother will often stay behind her young, and will try to fight off the coyote, butting him with her head and striking him with her forefeet. He pays little attention to her, except to snap at her, and keeps on after the kids. Several times I have seen a mother antelope lead her young one into the midst of a bed of cactus, where the wolf could not go without getting his feet full of thorns. If the bed is small, the wolf will make fierce dashes up to its borders, trying to frighten the little ones, so that they will run out on the other side and he can start after them again, but usually the mother has no trouble in holding them. I have several times killed young antelope whose legs had been bitten up by coyotes, but which had got away. One hot day last summer a gang of section-men were working in a railroad cut west of here, when suddenly a big buck antelope ran down one side of the cut, across the track and up the other side. His sudden dash into the midst of them startled the men, and as they stood looking up where he had crossed, a coyote suddenly plunged down the side of the cut, just as the antelope had done. The readiest of the section men threw a hammer at him, and the wolf turned and scrambled up the bank and was not seen again.

"I wonder what the men thought?" said Jack.

"Two or three years ago I camped one afternoon near Rock Creek, and as there was very little feed, we turned the horses loose at night to pick among the sage-brush and grease wood. Early in the morning, before sunrise, while the man with me was getting breakfast, I started out to get the horses. They were nowhere to be seen, and I climbed to the top of the hill back of camp, from which, as it was the only high place anywhere about, I felt sure that I could see them. Just before I got to the top of the hill an old doe antelope suddenly came in view, closely followed by a coyote. Both of them seemed to be running as hard as they could, and both had their tongues hanging out as if they had come a long way. Suddenly, almost at the heels of the antelope—much closer to her than the other wolf—appeared a second coyote which now took up the running, while the one that had been chasing her stopped and sat down and watched. The antelope ran quite a long distance, always bearing a little to the left, and now seeming to run more slowly than when I first saw her. As she kept turning, it was evident that she would either run around the hill on which I stood, or would come back near it. At first I was so interested in watching her that I forgot to look at the wolf that had stopped. When I did so, he was no longer in the same place, but was trotting over a little ridge that ran down from the hill and was watching the chase that was now so far off. He could easily have cut across and headed the antelope, but he knew too well what she would do to give himself that trouble. After a little, it was evident that the antelope would come back pretty near to the hill, but on the other side of it from where she had passed before, and the wolf which I had first seen chasing her, trotted out two or three hundred yards on the prairie and sat down. The antelope was now coming back almost directly towards him, and I could see that there were two wolves behind her, one close at her heels and the other a good way further back. The first wolf now seemed quite excited. He no longer sat up, but crouched close to the ground, every few moments raising his head very slowly to take a look at the doe, and then lowering it again so that he would be out of sight. Sometimes he crawled on his belly a few feet further from me, evidently trying to put himself directly in the path of the antelope; and this he seemed to have succeeded in doing. As she drew near him I could see that she was staggering, she was so tired, and the wolf behind could at any moment have knocked her down, if he had wanted to, but he seemed to be waiting for something. The wolf that was following him was now running faster and catching up.

"When the antelope reached the place where the first wolf was lying hidden, he sprang up and in a jump or two caught her neck and threw her down. At the same moment, the two wolves from behind came up, and for a moment there was a scuffle in which yellow and white and grey and waving tails were all mixed up, and then the three wolves were seen standing there, tearing away at their breakfast.

"Great Scott! that must have been exciting," said Jack.

"It was," said his uncle; "I had been so interested in watching this thing, which after all had not taken more than ten or fifteen minutes of time, that I had forgotten all about the horses. It only needed a moment's looking to see them, a short distance down the stream, and before I had got to them and brought them back to camp, I heard Bill's voice singing out breakfast."

"I always thought," said Jack, "that the antelope could run so fast that they could get away from all their enemies except hunters that carried rifles. Is there any other wild animal besides the coyote that catches them?"

"Yes, the golden eagles often kill them when they are quite young, though if any old ones are near they will fight the birds and keep them from catching the kids. Once in winter I saw an eagle attack two kids that were feeding at a little distance from a big bunch of perhaps a thousand antelope. At this time the young ones were seven or eight months old, and so quite large and strong. The eagle had been sitting somewhere on the hillside and flew down over the kids to pounce on one of them. They immediately began to run to the herd, and when the eagle made a dart at them, they both stopped, reared on their hind legs, a good deal in the position of the unicorn that we sometimes see fighting for the crown, and struck at the bird with their forefeet. Perhaps the eagle was not very hungry, but at all events this turned him and the kids ran on. He made two more swoops at them before they reached the herd, but each time they fought him off in the same way by rearing up and striking at him. Of course when they got in among the other antelope the eagles left them and flew away.

"You know that in old times, before they had horses or fire-arms, the Indians used to catch antelope in traps."

"No, I didn't know that," said Jack, "how did they do it? I should think it would have needed a pretty big trap to hold an antelope."

"It was something on the same plan as the way in which they trapped the buffalo; they built two long straight fences which almost came together at one end and were far apart at the other. At the end of the fences where they almost came together, the Indians either built a corral or dug a deep pit which they roofed over by slender poles on which they put grass and dirt. Now you have heard that the antelope is very curious. If he sees anything that he does not understand or can't quite make out he is likely to go up closer to it, so as to see what this object really is. The Indians took advantage of this weakness of the antelope and by means of it decoyed bunches of them into the space between the widely separated ends of these two fences. Other Indians were hidden behind the fence, and as soon as the herd got started down between these wings the Indians near the end of the fence ran out and got behind the antelope, which were then forced to run down towards the pit or the corral. If it was a pit, they broke through the roof in running over it, or they ran into the corral where they were killed by the Indians, who were hidden near-by.

"Down in Utah and Colorado, south-west of here, I have seen in several places the remains of these fences and corrals. I do not know that the Indians hereabouts ever caught the antelope in pits, but men who have lived up north with the Blackfeet and Cheyennes, tell me that up there they used the pits instead of the corrals.

"So you see, my boy, the antelope has his troubles like other people. It isn't all cake and pie for him, even though he can run fast and lives out on the prairie where he can see a long distance."

"That's so, Uncle Will," said Jack, "I never thought of all these things."

While the two had been talking they had forgotten about the antelope, and these had now been long left behind. Now the train with a long groaning whistle plunged into the darkness of a snow shed, and a few moments later ran out past the border of a large lake, the surface of which was covered with ducks and geese which rose from the water until the air was fairly dark with their numbers. The whistle of the duck's wings and the clamour of the honking geese could be heard, even though the car windows were shut, and the passengers all gathered at the windows to look at the great flocks of birds.

When they had passed out of sight of the lake his uncle said to Jack: "That is the Medicine Lake, and the next stop is our station. Better ring the bell for the porter, so that he can have all our things together ready to put off."

"Well, Thomas," he said to the smiling coloured man who came up, brush in hand, "we are going to leave you now. Please get all our things ready to throw off. You know the train does not stop long."

"All right sir, all right," said Thomas, "I'll see that nothing is left. Hope you will have a good drive out, Mr. Sturgis. Nice day you've got. Don't always have such nice weather, this time of the year." And he brushed furiously.

CHAPTER III
THE ROAD TO THE RANCH

The little cluster of buildings which the travellers saw when they stepped from the cars to the station platform was smaller than any village that Jack had ever been in. There were the station, the section house and the great round water tank, all painted red, and on the other side of the track a row of five one-story houses, four of unpainted logs, and one of boards, with large glass windows, evidently a store. Standing on the platform were a man holding a mail sack, two men wearing broad-brimmed hats, enormous fringed leather trousers, and small high heeled boots with great spurs. Not far from the platform stood a heavy spring-waggon, to which were hitched two good-sized chestnut horses, very nervous, or else half broken, for they were rearing and plunging and shying away from the train, yet were perfectly controlled by their driver, a large stoop-shouldered, white-bearded man. As the train drew out of the station, this team made a wide circle and then drove up to the platform, and as it reached it, the driver called out cheerily: "How are you Mr. Sturgis? how are you, sir. Glad to see you;" and he reached out and caught Mr. Sturgis' hand in a cordial grasp. "This your nephew? How are you, my son? I'm glad you've come out into this country to visit with us. We'll try to make a cowman of you before you go back."

"How are you, Hugh?" said Mr. Sturgis. "I am glad to see you, and glad to get back again. I have had enough of the town for a little while. Yes, this is my nephew, Jack Danvers. I want you to know him and like him, for I hope that you two will see a good deal of each other before snow flies. Jack has never been away from home before. He has everything to learn about life in the mountains, and there is no one who can teach him so well as you."

"Well, well," said Hugh, "I don't know as I'm much of a hand to break in a cowboy. I took to it too late. But let's get your things loaded. If you'll take these lines I'll pack the waggon."

In a very few moments the small trunks, bundles, gun-cases and bags were stored in the deep box of the waggon, and Hugh, stepping in again, took the lines and they drove off north over the rolling prairie.

The horses, which started with a rush, for a little time occupied all his attention. Old tin cans lying near the roads, and bits of paper quivering in the wind, caused them to shy, and often they tried to bolt, but the firm hand on the reins, and the low soothing voice soon quieted them, and before long they were jogging steadily and swiftly over the prairie road.

"They'll be a good team, Hugh, after a little driving," said Mr. Sturgis.

"That's what;" replied Hugh. "They're good now, only they're a little mite skeery yet, but they'll soon get over that. I don't know as I ever saw a team that promised better. They're right quiet, too, when you get 'em going." Just as he said this, a great bird rose with a roar of wings, almost under the horses' feet, and the right quiet animals, turning at right angles, bolted over the prairie, the waggon bumping and bouncing over the sage-brush in a way that made the two men hold on for dear life, while Jack, who was sitting between them, clung to the back of the seat, somewhat uneasy lest he should be thrown over the dashboard. Gradually Hugh checked the horses' speed and turned them back to the road, and when they were again quiet, he looked down at Jack and said to him, with a twinkle of fun in his eye: "I expect this prairie isn't as smooth as some of your park roads back in the States, my son."

"My, no! It bumped, didn't it? and I don't think your horses are so very quiet yet, Mr. Hugh. But what was that big bird that made such a noise when it flew up? Was it a partridge? I've heard about the noise they make getting up, but I didn't suppose they were as big as that."

"That was a sage hen, my son. You'll see lots of them before night. It's getting along towards nesting time for them, and maybe we'll find some nests, and maybe get some young ones this spring. I've raised a brood or two, but they always went off after they got big. Along in the fall, say in October, just before it gets cold weather, they get together in big droves, hundreds and hundreds together, and stay like that all winter. They're big, but they ain't much account. They taste too strong of the sage. The young ones about half grown are good eating, though not near so good as the blue grouse or the pheasant. Now, you take young blue grouse, just when they are feeding on the little red huckleberries that grow on the mountains, and, I tell you, they are tender and as nice tasting as any bird there is. There's as much difference between them and these sage hens as there is between a nice fat yearling mountain sheep in October and an old buck antelope at the same time of the year."

As they went on, Mr. Sturgis and Hugh began to speak of matters on the ranch, of cows and calves and horses and colts and brands, and of places and people Jack had never heard of, so that he paid no heed to their talk, but occupied himself in watching the prairie over which they were driving, and the wild creatures which lived on it. There were many of these, chiefly birds, and these of kinds new to him, familiar only with the commoner birds of the sea-coast. Most of them were small and dull-coloured, but not all; for, flying up from the road, yet often standing close to it while the waggon passed, were little birds with bright yellow throats and black chins, and which seemed to have little black horns on either side of the head. There were great flocks of these, and Jack determined to remember and ask his uncle what they were. At one time a great, long-eared animal sprang from under a bush by the side of the road and half hopped, half ran off over the prairie. It was mostly white, and had long ears, and Jack thought it must be a rabbit of some kind. When it sprang into view, the horses gave a great bound and tried to run, and not until they had again been brought down to a trot was he able to ask what it was, and to learn that it was a jack-rabbit.

By this time they had gone quite a long way, and as they reached the top of a ridge, Mr. Sturgis pointed toward a range of distant hills which cut off the view, and asked his nephew how far off he thought they were.

"Oh, I don't know, Uncle Will; how far are they?"

"They are about twenty miles distant, and we have to go ten miles beyond them. Do you see that low place in the line of the horizon, just to the right of the horses' heads? Well, we go through that. There is a narrow valley there, and we go up that, and then over the hill and down into the basin, where the ranch is."

"What makes those mountains look so grey, Uncle Will? They shine almost like silver. In some places the mountain looks black, but it's mostly grey."

"The black is the dark green of the growing pine timber, and the grey is where the timber has been burned, and is dead. For the first year or two after the fire has passed over the forest and killed them, the trees are black or keep their bark. Then the wind and rain and snow beating on the soft coating of charcoal, wear off the charred surface and the bark, and the wood becomes grey from the weather, just the colour of an old fence rail. The trees continue to stand for a good many years, and give this grey colour to the mountain side. Gradually the roots rot, and one by one the trees fall to the ground. Often they lie across each other, six or eight feet high, and this is the "down timber" which it is so hard to travel through. Sometimes it is even dangerous to pass through a piece of this dead timber. If it has been dead a long time, so that the roots of many of the trees have become rotten and weakened, the trees are easily thrown down by a high wind. I have seen a tall, thick tree pushed over by a mule knocking its pack against it, and in a gale of wind have seen the trees falling all around me. Of course, if one of them fell on a horse it would kill him."

By this time the waggon had begun to go down into some low but very rough and barren hills, cut up in every direction by ravines and water-courses. There was no grass and the ground was bare, except for low sage-brush here and there, and the rocks seemed to be bent and twisted. Sometimes a little pointed hill was capped by a great broad slab of stone, or again a narrow ridge was crowned with pinnacles which looked like pyramids or church steeples, or men or animals. It was a queer-looking place, and not like anything that Jack had ever seen before. He asked his uncle about it, and he explained. "These are what the old French trappers of early days used to call mauvaises terres—bad lands—because no grass grows on them. The soil is all sand or clay, and very dry. All this country you see was once the bottom of a big bay where the tide rose and fell."

"Tide rose and fell, Uncle Will! How could that be? Where did the tide come from? I didn't think that the ocean was within a thousand miles of here;" said Jack.

"That is true to-day, Jack," said his uncle; "but the time I am talking about was long, long ago, in what the men who study the earth's history call Jurassic time. No one knows how many years ago it was, but it is safe to say it was millions. In those times the salt ocean, or an arm of it, lay just east of the Rocky Mountains and the water in this bay where we are now was partly fresh and partly salt. Great forests grew here, and strange animals lived among them and fed along the shores of this bay. If we had time to get out and look for them, we could find beaches, where the sand was washed up by the waves, and shells, and the bones of these great animals. A big book could be written about these bad lands here, just as big books have been written about other bad lands."

"They're surely queer places," said Hugh. "I've seen it down in Kansas, and down on Henry's fork of Green River, and up in Oregon, where the ground was stuck full of bones and teeth. Some of the leg-bones was nigh as thick as my body, and some of the big heads had long teeth as long as my hand. They must have been big animals, and mighty dangerous too, I reckon."

"What makes the dirt all those different colours, Uncle Will," asked Jack; "In some places it's white, in others yellow or brown or black, and in some, bright red, like bricks."

"That red colour," said Mr. Sturgis, "is where the earth has been burnt. All through the soil here there are seams or veins of a crumbly brown substance, which is called lignite. It is a sort of coal about half made, and like coal it will burn. Sometimes a seam of this lignite catches fire from some cause or other, and may burn for years, baking the earth close to it. The heat turns it red, just as bricks which have been burned turn red."

By this time they were passing out of the bad lands and down into a flat through which flowed a broad river. There was no bridge over it, and Jack wondered how they were going to get across, but when they came to the water's edge the horses trotted in, were stopped to drink, and then walked on across, although the water came up to their bellies and washed and gurgled about the waggon, so that Jack began to think that perhaps they might be swept away. Pretty soon it grew more shallow, and then they came to the bank, and once more the waggon started off down the valley at a brisk rate. Soon they crossed a narrow little stream flowing between deep banks, climbed another hill, and then turning away from the river, went up a narrow valley, shut in on one side by a high wall of rock and on the other by a great mountain dotted with cedars. On this mountain Hugh said there were some mountain sheep, and he pointed out to Jack tracks in the road where some of these animals had crossed that morning. Further on, in a broad rolling valley, they saw some antelope, but by this time the cold wind had made Jack chilly and tired, and his uncle wrapped him up to the throat with blankets and robes, and propping him up between Hugh and himself, told him to go to sleep. Just as he was about to do this, something happened which woke him up very thoroughly.

CHAPTER IV
A GRIZZLY KILLED

Jack was just dropping off to sleep when he heard, very faintly, Hugh's voice, saying, "Got your gun handy, Mr. Sturgis, and some cartridges? Get it out quick then, there's a bear coming down from that bluff, and he's liable to cross the road a half mile beyond here; I'll run the horses and we may get there as soon as he does; he can't hear nor smell us in this wind." The last part of this sentence sounded very loud to Jack, for the word, bear, had thoroughly waked him up. When he opened his eyes, he seemed to have the seat all to himself. His Uncle Will's head was down between his knees, and he was feeling under the waggon-seat, while Hugh was half standing up and putting the whip on the horses. They did not need much urging to make them run, and in a minute the waggon was bounding along the road, jumping and swaying so that Jack held on to the back of the seat as hard as he could. His uncle had found his rifle, and was hurriedly fumbling with the straps of the case, and at the same time muttering questions to Hugh, asking where the bear was likely to cross.

In a moment more the rifle was pulled from its case, a cartridge slipped into the breech, and then the waggon topped a little rise of ground, and there before them, just crossing the road, was a big brown animal that looked something like a big dog without any tail. As they saw it, the horses tried to shy out to one side, but Hugh was ready for them and held them firmly. Mr. Sturgis rose to his feet and raised his gun to his shoulder, but Hugh said, "Hold on, hold on; wait till we get to where he crosses and then jump out. You will catch him as he rises the hill." Meantime the bear had crossed the road and disappeared in a ravine, and in a moment more Hugh drew up the horses, so that they almost reared, checked the waggon, Mr. Sturgis jumped out, and at that moment the bear was seen only fifty yards off, swiftly galloping up the hill. There was a shot, and then another, and the bear turned over and rolled down the hill out of sight. The horses danced, plunged, reared, and then ran some little distance before Hugh could stop them. But Jack looking back saw his uncle wave his hand and call out a cheery "All right!"

In a moment the horses stopped, and Jack jumped out and ran toward his uncle, not heeding Hugh's call to him to wait. Before he had reached Mr. Sturgis, however, the waggon had passed him, and when he got to the spot his uncle and Hugh were unhitching the horses, and in a moment had tied them to the hind wheels of the waggon.

"Where's the bear, Uncle Will," said Jack, "where did he go to?"

"I think he is down there in the ravine, my boy, but don't go down there yet. We'll get out your gun and load it, and then we'll go down and look for him."

"That is the way to do it," said Hugh. "Don't never go near no game without your gun, and a load in it, and above all, when it is a bear. Don't go near him, even if your gun is loaded, unless you can see him plain and are sure that he is dead. It is better to stand off and throw rocks at him for ten or fifteen minutes than to go up close and have him jump up and hit you once."

Jack's gun was soon out of the waggon, and when it had been loaded, he walked down the hill by his uncle's side, while Hugh, who was unarmed, followed a little behind them. They soon reached a point where they could see into the bottom of the ravine, and there lay the bear, doubled up in a heap and apparently dead.

"Roll a rock down on him, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis, "and let's see if there is any life left in him."

Two or three big stones rolled down the steep slope caused no movement in the bear, and very slowly they approached him, but he did not now seem nearly so big to Jack as when he had crossed the road.

"He is only a yearling, Mr. Sturgis," said Hugh. "Say about fifteen or sixteen months old, but he has surely got a nice hide, and he will make a nice little robe for the boy here."

"Yes," said Mr. Sturgis, "but if we stop to skin him, it will bring us mighty late to the ranch."

"Oh, Uncle Will," said Jack, "let's skin him; what difference does it make whether we get to the ranch an hour sooner or later. Just think, this is the first big animal I have ever seen killed. I think we ought to take his skin along with us."

"All right, my boy," said Mr. Sturgis, "we will skin him; it won't take more than half an hour. Take hold of his front paws, Hugh, and drag him out to a level place, and we'll take his coat off; and Jack, do you go down this ravine a little way and see if you can find any water; before we get through we'll probably all want a drink, and certainly some of us will want to wash our hands."

Jack wanted to wait there and watch the operation of skinning the bear, but he did as he was told, and after walking down the ravine a few hundred yards, he found a place where a little water was trickling out of the side of the bank, and flowed away in a very thin small stream. There was so little of it that it was impossible for any one to drink, and there was no place where one could wash one's hands. He followed it down a little way further, and presently it fell over some rocks and into a little pool, almost as big as a water bucket.

Walking in the sun had made him thirsty, and he stooped and took a swallow or two of the water, but, although it was clear and cold, it was very bitter, and a little of it was enough for him. As he started back to where the bear lay, suddenly he saw coming down the side of the ravine toward him, a yellowish dog, with a long bushy tail and pricked ears, and he thought at once of the Indian dogs that his uncle had described to him, and wondered whether perhaps there was a camp of Indians somewhere near. In a moment after, the dog saw him, paused for an instant, and then turning about, with long bounds, ran up the hill, and after stopping a moment at the crest, it looked back and then disappeared from view.

When he got back to where the men were at work he found that the bear was already half skinned, and while he watched the finishing of the work, he told them of the water that he had found and of the dog that he had seen.

"I guess your dog was a coyote, Jack," said his uncle. "There are no Indians about here now, are there, Hugh?"

"No, not yet, Mr. Sturgis. There's likely to be a camp or two travelling along when summer comes, but they haven't started in to move yet. The grass is not high enough and the ponies can't get any feed. I expect your boy saw a coyote."

"Do you mean one of the little wolves that run down antelopes, Uncle Will?" said Jack.

"Yes, one of those," said his uncle. "The smartest animal that travels the prairie, aren't they, Hugh?"

"They surely are," said the old man, as he gave a last cut with his knife, and then tore the hide free from the bear. "Well, now, Mr. Sturgis," he continued, "I will take this hide up the hill and tie it up, and then go down to the spring and wash up, and then we will hitch up and roll. We have wasted considerable time here, but them horses are able to travel good, and we ought to get to the ranch by eight o'clock; before nine, anyhow."

Twenty minutes later the team was once more swiftly trotting along the smooth road, and Jack, wrapped up in robes and blankets, was cogitating on bear hunting as he dropped off to sleep.

Jack was awakened by a sharp jerk that nearly threw him from his seat, to hear Hugh growl: "Well I didn't hit that crossing very well. Lucky I slowed up."

The waggon was passing through a shallow brook, flowing down from mountains which could be plainly seen in the bright moonlight to the left of the road. Their sides were patched with glistening snow, and one could follow the dark irregular outline of their crest, cutting off the star-dotted sky, but Jack could not tell whether they were near or far away. To the right there seemed a far stretching plain, white in the moonlight. It was all strange, and for a little while Jack hardly knew where he was, but gradually he recovered his wits, and moved and stretched out his legs.

"Awake, Jack?" said his uncle. "We're almost there now. Only a few miles more and we'll be at home and get some supper. You'll be ready for that, I guess."

"Yes," said Jack, "I feel pretty hungry. It's cold too, isn't it?"

"Well," said Hugh, "you see it comes pretty near being winter yet out here. We're pretty high up in the air, and summer comes on slow and don't stay long when it gets here. I reckon you have heard the old saying that we have in this country about the weather. They say it's nine months winter and three months late in the fall. I expect that's because we have frosts and snow-storms every month in the year. Last summer in July we had a big hailstorm that cut down everything in the garden even with the ground, and knocked all the leaves off the quaking asps back of the house. The potatoes sprouted again and got about four inches high when there came another storm and cut 'em down again. So last year we didn't have no garden."

Before Hugh had finished this long speech, Jack had gone to sleep again, not to awake until he was lifted from the waggon at the ranch and was carried up to the house in Hugh's strong arms. The warmth and light of the room they entered confused him and made him still more sleepy, and he ate his supper in a daze and then went to bed.

CHAPTER V
ROPING AND RIDING

Jack Danvers' sleep was deep and dreamless during his first night at the ranch, and when he was awakened next morning by his uncle's call, he could hardly tell where he was. As he jumped out of bed he saw by the dim light that came in through the small window that he was in a little room, furnished only with a bed, a washstand, a chair and his trunk. From the window he looked out on some level land, a grove of small trees and beyond them a very high hill, rising sharply and strewn with great stones. Gradually the drive of the day before and its incidents came back to his memory, and he knew that he was at the ranch. He dressed quickly, for he felt that there must be many strange things to see, and he did not want to miss any of them.

As soon as he had finished dressing, he opened his door and stepped out into another larger room, in which were chairs, a lounge, a stove and a good many shelves with books on them. This was the ranch sitting-room. There was no one here, but somewhere not far off he could hear the rattle of dishes, and passing through another room, he found himself in an open door-way looking into the kitchen where a pleasant-faced young woman was cooking. She smiled at him as she said, "Good-morning. Did you sleep well? I guess you did, and I don't believe you remember much about getting here last night, do you? You were dead tired and were almost asleep while you were eating supper, and went sound asleep as soon as you were through."

"No, ma'am, I don't remember getting here at all. I remember the drive and Uncle Will's killing the bear, and the horses and Hugh, but I don't remember eating supper."

"Well," said Mrs. Carter, "you must be rested by this time, and now we'll have breakfast pretty soon. Would you rather sit here till it is ready, or go out doors?"

"I think I'll go out doors and look around, if there is time before breakfast," said Jack.

"Oh, there's plenty of time," said Mrs. Carter. "You'll hear the horn when breakfast is ready." So Jack opened the door and went out.

Standing in front of the low grey log-house, he looked down a little valley, bounded on either side by low hills and soon spreading out into a wide plain. Very far away on the other side of the plain were high hills, some of them brown like the near-by prairie, others white, like chalk. Over these distant hills the sun was just rising, and all the broad plain was flooded with yellow light. Down on the prairie not very far from the house some antelope were feeding, and beyond them on a hillside some cattle. To the left were low log buildings—stables, Jack supposed—and some high-walled pens. Near the door of one of the buildings, hens were picking about, and close to the house three or four of these were quarrelling with a lot of black-birds over a bone lying on the grass, from which all the meat had been picked. By one of the pens calves were standing, looking through the bars, and now and then bawling to the cows that were being milked within. Behind the house was a high mountain on which grew pines, and high up on its side a number of small animals were moving swiftly, and behind them, one a little larger than the rest. As he looked at these animals they grew larger, and before long Jack could see that they were horses, and that the last one was a man on horseback, driving them. They came toward the house very fast and soon were plainly seen, and a little later the rumble of their galloping was heard, and they crowded into the corral. The man put up the bars and rode to the stable and unsaddled. Just after this, the horn sounded, and Jack saw his uncle, Hugh and two other men come toward the house, and soon all were seated at breakfast.

After the meal was over, Mr. Sturgis said to his nephew: "Now, Jack, I am going to ride out to-day to look for some horses, and I am going to leave you and Hugh here to keep camp. Hugh is going over into the pasture, and if he has time after he gets back, he will give you some lessons in shooting. You had better go with him. You can ride Old Grey for the present, until you begin to feel at home on a horse. I am going out now to saddle up. Do you want to come down to the corral?" They walked down toward the big pen into which Jack had seen the horses driven, but before they got to it a cloud of dust rose from it, and the horses were seen to be running around in it. Jack asked:

"What is frightening the horses, Uncle Will?"

"The men are catching up their riding animals," said Mr. Sturgis. "Run ahead and climb up on the fence, if you want to see them roping."

Jack ran on and clambered up on the top rail, just as another great cloud of dust rose. He saw the horses all standing, huddled in one corner of the pen, but one was following one of the men who held the end of a long rope which was about the horse's neck. Just then Hugh, carrying some ropes in his hand, came out of the stable, and unhooking the gate of the pen, went in, hooked the gate behind him, and walked toward the horses. As he saw Jack on the fence he called out:

"You've come down to get your horse, have you? Before very long we'll have you coming in here and catching him for yourself. You'll have to learn to throw a rope." He walked slowly toward the horses, and soon some of them started to run around the pen, always keeping close to the fence. Hugh held the long rope in both hands, the part in his left hand being in a small coil, while from his right hand a long loop trailed behind him in the dust. Suddenly he threw his right hand forward, the large loop flew out and settled over the head of a small grey horse that was galloping by. The horse stopped short and turned toward Hugh, who walked away toward the gate of the pen, gathering up the rope until the horse was quite close to him. He led the horse through the gate, tied him to the fence outside, and taking another rope went back into the pen.

"Climb over," he said to Jack, "and come here. You might as well get used to horses now as any other time." Jack climbed down the bars into the pen, though it did seem to him as if it were rather a dangerous place, for he did not feel at all sure that the horses might not run against and knock him down, and then run over and trample him to death. They seemed to rush about like a lot of wild creatures. Just as he got to the ground, and was walking over to Hugh, the gate opened again and his uncle came in, and he too had a rope in his hand.

"That's right, my boy," said his uncle. "You can't begin too soon. I see that Hugh has caught your horse; do you think that you can catch his?"

"I don't believe he can do it the first time or two, Mr. Sturgis. We'll have to practise a little on a post first, but I thought he might as well get down here among the horses," said Hugh. "Now, son, you watch me close. Notice everything I do, so that you'll remember next time. Now, you see this rope is lying on the ground. Just watch how I take it up and hold it."

Jack saw that Hugh took the loop of the rope with his right hand, and the free end in a small coil in his left hand, holding the end of the rope pressed against the palm of the hand with his little finger. "Now, d'ye see," he said, "how I hold it? Your right hand must hold both the loop and the free rope about a foot and a half from the hondu—that's the eye the rope runs through. Then it will always keep open and run free. Always give a twist to the rope as you gather it; then it won't kink on you. Now, watch my right arm and the loop of the rope." He moved his right arm a little forward, turning his hand as he did so, and the loop flew forward and lay spread out open on the ground just before him. It seemed very easy.

"Now," said Hugh, "I'll catch old Baldy, and we'll be going." He walked toward the horses and they started to run, and as they started, he began to swing the rope around his head, and the loop was partly open. In a moment his hand reached forward, the loop flew out and settled over three or four horses that were crowded together, and they all stopped. Then a big bald-faced roan came out of the group toward Hugh, and sure enough the rope was about his neck. Hugh started toward the corral gate, leading the horse, and Jack was just going to follow, when the horses started again, and, turning, he saw his uncle swinging his rope, and in a moment he had his horse, and they all went out of the corral together. The gate was left open so that the horses that were not needed might go out on the prairie again.

The two horses were led up to the stable door, and there Hugh dropped the ropes on the ground, leaving them standing there, not tied to anything. As he entered the door he said to Jack:

"Come in, son, and I'll show you your saddle and bridle and blanket. You know every man here has his own saddle, and no one ever uses it except the man that owns it. Your saddle is here, and you ought always to hang it on its peg, and hang bridle, blanket and rope over it, so that they won't get dirty or be gnawed by anything, and so you'll always know where they are. You see, if you lose your things you'll have to go without any. No one'll lend you theirs. Now, the first thing you've got to learn is how to saddle your horse. I'll saddle old Baldy first, and you watch me close and try to see what I do. You see," he said, as he took down from a peg a great saddle with a high horn and big wooden stirrups, "these saddles that we use out here are different from the little flat things that they ride in the States. I saw one of them once. An Englishman had it, and it was queer for a fact. I thought the man would slip off it every time the horse gave a jump, but he didn't. He stuck to it good. Only he got all raw after he'd been riding it a month or two. Now, these saddles are hard, made of wood and leather, so we have to put plenty of blanket under 'em to keep the horse's back from getting sore. You see, this blanket is folded so that it's just a little longer and a little wider than the saddle. There's about three or four inches in front of the saddle, and three or four behind. Now I throw it on old Baldy, so that the front edge comes just about where the mane ends on the withers, and then I pass my hand all over it to see that there ain't any wrinkles in the folds. If wrinkles are there they're liable to press on the horse's back and make it sore. When it's all smooth, the saddle goes on like this," and grasping the heavy saddle by its horn he swung it over the horse's back, so that stirrups and cinches swung clear, and the saddle fell in its place. "Now, these cinches, you see, come up to meet the latigo straps on this side. You reach under the horse's chest and get hold of the forward cinch first, slip the latigo through the ring, and then through the saddle ring, and again through the cinch ring and saddle ring, and then pull, until the cinch is tight, so, and tie the strap like that. The flank cinch you don't pull so tight; if you pull on that too much, it is liable to make your horse buck. Now, the bridle; always leave your reins hanging down over the head when you get off, and then your horse won't move.

"Now, I'll saddle up your horse. I guess you'll find those stirrups about right. I fixed 'em for you last night when you was in bed. I'll tie up your rope here to these strings. You won't need it with Old Grey. He won't run away, even if you do get off and go and leave him." Then he saddled the grey with Jack's saddle.

"Now, let's see you mount. Here, stand by your horse's left shoulder and gather up your reins in your left hand. Now, catch hold of the mane with the same hand. Now, face a little toward the saddle and take the stirrup in your right hand, turn it so that the open end is toward you, and put your left foot in it. Now, take hold of the horn and pull yourself up from the ground. Go ahead, you won't fall; that's it; now, put your leg over, and there you are. After two or three times you'll be all right."

As he spoke thus, Hugh stepped into his own saddle and, stooping, began to gather up his rope which was still on the ground, and then lifting his bridle rein, his horse started to walk toward the house. Jack sat on his horse, feeling a little queer and wondering what he should do when his horse began to move. But it did not move; it stood there with its head hanging down as if asleep. In a moment Hugh looked around and called out, "Come on, son, lift your bridle rein and put your heel against his side and he'll start." Jack did this, and his horse seemed to wake up, and moved on.

As they rode on, side by side, Hugh explained to Jack which hand he should hold his reins in, how to guide his horse, by moving his hand to the left or to the right, so that the reins would press on the side of the neck away from that toward which he wished to turn, and how to hold on to his horse with his legs. He told him a good deal about riding and roping and handling horses and cattle, but much of it Jack hardly understood, and perhaps Hugh thought of this, for in a little while he began to point out the different hills and stream valleys, and to tell Jack the name of each. He showed him the points of the compass, and explained to him how to guess the direction by the position of the sun in the sky.

They were riding along the foot of the mountain, and crossing little valleys with steep ridges between. Down each valley ran a foaming brook and on each ridge grew sage-brush, and among the sage-brush were many great rocks, most of them smoothed and polished. A little way off, these big stones sometimes looked like animals lying down.

"We're going over to look at some cows that we've been keeping in this pasture all winter," said Hugh, as they rode up one of the hillsides. "They're right tame and we can ride right in among them. They're beginning to have their calves now, and I like to go over every day and look at 'em, to try to keep 'em together. There's lots of coyotes around, and they take a calf now and then, if they can get it and its mother away from the bunch. I put some baits out the last heavy snow we had, and got five of 'em, and the next snow that comes I'll put out some more. They're getting pretty smart though, and don't take poison like they used to in old times."

"How do you manage to poison them, Hugh?" asked Jack. Hugh did not answer, but pointed across a valley to a bit of hillside that had just come in view, and said, "There's a bunch of coyotes now trying to get a calf. Come on." And without a word more he galloped away. Jack had just time to see that he was riding toward an animal about which a lot of smaller animals were dancing, when suddenly old Grey threw up his head and began to gallop after Hugh, and for a few minutes Jack had all he could do to keep from falling off his horse, as it wound in and out among the rocks and the sage-brush. It seemed pretty rough riding, and he had an awful pain in his side, but pretty soon his horse stopped galloping and began to walk, and he saw that he was near Hugh, who was sitting on his horse, looking at a cow, close by which stood a little tottering calf. The cow seemed angry and shook her head as if she would like to charge on the horses.

"Look at that fool of a critter," said the old man, "she left the bunch and came near losing her calf by coyotes, and now she wants to fight us for driving them off. I always did say that cows had no sense."

"Were those coyotes that were running around? I could not see very well, because old Grey was going so fast, and I had a hard time to keep from falling off," said Jack.

"Well, well, you'll have to learn to stick on to your horse. I forgot that you wan't used to riding. We'll sure have to practise riding," said Hugh. "Now, let's drive this heifer over to the bunch. She's in big luck that she didn't lose that calf, young as it is."

"I thought coyotes were little animals, and I should think that a big cow could keep them away, and that all the calf would have to do would be to stay close to its mother."

"That would be all right, son, if the cow and calf had just a little bit of sense, but you see that's just what they ain't got. The coyotes get around them, and first one and then another makes a dash at the cow and tries to make her mad, or to scare her calf away from her. If the calf leaves its mother only a little way it gets a bite, and if the cow gets mad and begins to chase the coyotes, very likely the calf gets left behind, and may be gets two or three bites, or even gets pulled down. The only safe place for a calf is right close by its mother's side. Now, I believe that cow has quieted down, so that we can start her toward the bunch. You stop here till I see."

Hugh rode toward the cow, calling at her, and after a moment she turned and walked away from him, the calf staggering at her side. "Come on," called Hugh. "She'll go all right now."

They rode on behind the cow for a mile or two, and then, after crossing a ridge, saw down in the flat before them more than a hundred cows and calves. They rode down among them, when the cow that they had been driving stopped, and then after Hugh had looked at some of the animals, he said, "Now, I am going up there where there's a warm spot to smoke. After that, we'll go back to the house."

A little way up the valley was a clump of trees, and near these the two stopped, dismounted, and threw down their reins and sat down, while the horses fed near by.

CHAPTER VI
AN ANCIENT MASSACRE

It was warm and pleasant where they sat, in the sun and out of the wind, though on the mountain behind them great drifts of snow lay in the ravines. Hugh had taken from his pocket a black wooden pipe and a plug of tobacco, and was shaving off the tobacco into the palm of his hand. Soon he had a pipeful, and crushing it between his palms, he filled his pipe and lighted it. As he leaned back and blew out the streams of white smoke from his nostrils, he pointed to a near-by hill and said:

"We'll go around that hill going back, and I'll show you a place where there was quite a killing of Indians a good many years back. It was before my time in this country, more than forty years ago, but I knew some of the men that was in the fight, if you can call it a fight where there wasn't no fighting. There's lots of old lodge poles and bones lying on the ground there yet, and I can remember years ago, they was old rotten robes and all kinds of truck lying around. The men that did the killing didn't carry anything away. They just killed everything in the camp that was alive, and then went off and left it."

"I think I've heard my uncle tell about that, but I wish you would tell me the story, Hugh. I'd like to hear it," said Jack.

"I'll tell you all I've heard of it, but let's wait till we get to the place. Now we've got to sit here and smoke, and then we'll go home that way, and then this afternoon I want you to take your rifle and come out and we'll see how it's sighted. Then maybe in two or three days we'll go out and kill a buck antelope. That's about the only meat that's good now. Well," he continued after a time, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe, "let's be moving. Let's see you mount now. That's good.

"Now, we'll have to ride a little faster if we're going to stop at that old killing ground. So come on. Try to hold your saddle tight between your legs, and swing with your horse. You'll get into it in only a short while. Come on, now."

Hugh started his horse, and Jack did the same, and they galloped off together. At first the boy bounced about a good deal, but after a little he began to see what Hugh meant, and by sitting back a little in the saddle and easing himself with his toes when the horse struck the ground, he sat more comfortably, and before he had gone very far he began to enjoy his ride. The cool wind blew against his face and through his hair, the sun was bright, little birds rose from the prairie as they galloped along, and it was very pleasant. He looked up at Hugh, who was watching him with a kindly smile, and laughed outright. "It's splendid, isn't it?" he said. Hugh answered something, but the wind blew his words away.

Presently Hugh drew in his horse and they turned and rode up over a little hill and stopped, looking across a narrow valley through which a little stream flowed. On the other side, only a short way off, in a half circle, rose another hill on which grew many cedar bushes among the great rocks. In the valley many grey sticks were lying on the ground, and here and there among the sticks were spots of white. "There's the place," said Hugh, "where the camp was wiped out. Let's 'light down here, and I'll fill my pipe and tell you the story."

When his pipe was going well he turned to Jack, and said: "It was a camp of fifteen lodges of 'Rapahoes, and the white men was a bunch of thirty trappers. This is the way I heard it. It was more than forty years ago that a war-party of 'Rapahoes attacked a small train of emigrants and killed them all, except one young boy about as old as you, who hid in the brush when the charge was made. A few days later a couple of trappers came along that way and found the boy. He told them the story, and when they looked around over the place where the killing was done, they found that it was 'Rapahoes that done it. These two men took the boy with them, and they made up their minds that the 'Rapahoes had got to sweat for this, and when they got into the Fort they told other men about it, and they all figured on it the same way.

"This killing was done in the summer, and the next spring, when the men were coming in from their trapping they camped somewheres near here in the hills, and stopped two or three days. Before they started on into the Fort, one of the men who was out hunting saw a camp of Indians coming—a small party—and he watched 'em until they camped, and then crawled up close to the lodges. After he'd watched them awhile, he made out that they were 'Rapahoes, and he took the news to camp. The men there turned out, and during the night they got all around the Indians and cached on the hillside among the cedars and rocks. You can think how it must have been that night, the lodges all standing here white in the darkness, and the men lying hid on the hillside waiting for day. At last it began to grow grey in the east, and then light, and pretty soon a smoke began to come from one lodge and then from another, and then a man stepped out, or a woman started down to the creek to get water, or a boy to bring in the horses, and then the first shot came and the people began to run out, and to run this away and that away, but as fast as they came out they were shot down. After all the people were killed, they killed the dogs and horses; everything that there was alive, and then they went away. They never went down into the camp."

He paused to relight his pipe, and Jack said: "But how did they know that these were the people who killed the emigrants?"

"They didn't," said Hugh, "but they knew that they were 'Rapahoes. That's the way it used to be in them days; if a Piegan or a Sioux, or a Cheyenne killed a white man, his friends killed the next Indian they met of the tribe that had done the killing. The Indians did the same, and many a man has been killed in revenge for something that he had never heard of."

"That seems very unfair," said Jack, "I never heard of anything like it before."

"Well, it don't seem just right; that's so," said Hugh, "but anyhow, that's the way it used to be in old times. Come on now. Let's go down to where the camp stood."

They rode down to the little flat and stopped their horses in the middle of this old camp-ground. Hugh pointed to several spots where there were a few broken, bent and weathered sticks, and said: "You see, the lodges stood wherever you see those lodge poles. If you look in the middle of each of those circles you will find the old ashes of the fire and the stones that were around it. See here!" Dismounting, he walked to one of the circles and picked up two or three pieces of charred wood, which he held up. "That fire once cooked a man's dinner, and look here!" he added, stooping down and feeling in the dirt for something which he released with a hard pull "Here's a knife, a regular old-fashioned bowie-knife; what we used to call an Arkansas toothpick." He knocked the heavy blade against a stone, to free it from the dirt which clung to it, and passed it to Jack.

"Why, what a big knife," said Jack. "It's almost like a sword; but it isn't very sharp."

"Not very," said Hugh, "but notice how it's whetted, round on one side and flat on the other. That's the way Indians always whet their knives. Queer, isn't it? Let's look around for something more. Let your horse go, after you've thrown down the reins; he won't move." The two separated and began to look over the ground, and in a moment Jack called out in a solemn way. "Oh, Hugh, look here; see what I have found!" and as the old man came up to him, he pointed out a human skull that lay half buried in the dirt in a little washout. "That's one of 'em," said Hugh, as he picked it up. It was very old, grey with weather, and all the teeth had fallen out. Higher up the hill were splinters of bones and even some whole bones of legs and arms, and sticking out of the ground among them was a long piece of iron, which when dragged from its resting-place, proved to be a rifle barrel.

"Well, now," remarked Hugh, "if we keep this up we'll have a horse-load of truck to pack home with us."

They looked further, gathering up one thing after another, and at length when they were ready to go home they had five Indian skulls, the rifle barrel, the knife, an old-fashioned T. Gray axe, such as was used in trade with the Indians in early days, some pieces of the wood of saddles, a couple of elk-horn fleshers and a stone scraper. All these things were very old; the iron deeply rusted, the bones and wood grey and split with age and weather.

Hugh bundled these things into his coat and tied it on behind his saddle, and they set out for the ranch. Just as they got to the corral, the dinner horn sounded, and after unsaddling and putting their treasures upon the roof, which Hugh easily reached from the ground, they went to the house. Jack thought that he had never tasted a dinner quite as good as that one, and when he had finished he felt quite uncomfortable.

A little while after dinner, Hugh said to Jack: "Now, son, go in and bring out your rifle, and let's see how it's sighted and how it pulls off. A man always must learn how his gun shoots before he can expect to kill anything. I've seen young fellows from the States come out to hunt, and start in and shoot away a heap of ammunition without hitting anything, and come to find out, they had never sighted their guns, and didn't know anything about where they shot. 'Course they couldn't hit anything. You get a box of ca'tridges and your gun, and we'll try to find out just what it can do, and afterwards what you can do."

When the gun was in his hands he explained its working to his hearer, and then took it apart, put it together again, and told Jack to do this, correcting his mistakes and telling him a good deal about guns in general and this gun in particular. Then he proposed to go out on the prairie to shoot at a mark, and told Jack to carry his gun and to hold it so it would not point at any one. "I'm always scary about a gun," he said, "and the older I get the more afraid of 'em I am. I've seen a heap of accidents in my time from guns, and once, when I was young, I came near killing my best friend, just by foolishness. So I like to see everybody as careful of a gun as he knows how to be. You've been told, I expect, never to point your gun at anything except what you mean to shoot at. This business of sighting your gun at people and animals, and saying to yourself, 'Oh, couldn't I just hit that,' is just baby play, and I don't think there's any need to tell you not to do that. There's another thing. Don't carry a ca'tridge in your gun unless you're expecting game to jump up in front of you any time. Don't carry your gun loaded on your horse. Something may happen. You may kill the man you're riding with, or his horse, or your own horse. In old times we had to carry our guns loaded, but since we've got these britch-loaders it ain't needful. I expect you'd feel mighty mean if you killed a man, just by your carelessness, or if he killed you the same way. I came mighty near getting killed that way once by an Indian I was travelling with. We sat down side by side on top of a high hill to look over the country, and he had his rifle across his knees with the muzzle pointing toward me, and he was playing with the hammer of his gun, raising and lowering it. I didn't like it very much, and got up and walked away, thinking I'd come back and sit down on the other side of him. In less than a minute after I moved, his gun went off, and if I had been sitting there the ball would have gone through me. I was scared some when I thought how near I'd come to being bored through, but I wasn't a patch on the Indian. He was scared grey. You see it was known that he and I were together, and if he had killed me by accident, it would have been hard for him to prove it, and he'd likely have got killed for murdering me.

"We'll try the gun at that hill over there. Do you see that white rock, the small one to the left of that sage-bush? That's about a hundred yards away. Load your gun and shoot at that. First sight at the rock. See that the top of the foresight just shows over the notch of the hind sight. Hold the gun tight to your shoulder and pull the trigger slowly. Try to hold your gun steady on the mark, and when the sight is on it, pull. Don't load it yet."

Jack had been listening carefully and trying to remember all that Hugh had said to him, and now he raised the rifle to his shoulder and sighted at the stone. He was surprised to see how large it looked through the sights of the rifle, and how it seemed to jump about. He could not hold the gun steady, and at last took it down, saying, "I can't hold it still."

"Try it a few times, and then you can fire a shot. Put your gun up and, as soon as the foresight is on the mark, pull." Jack did this two or three times, and the last time said, "That time I think I would have hit it." "Good," said Hugh. "Now put a ca'tridge in the gun and shoot. Remember, you must keep the butt of your gun pressed close to your shoulder. If you don't do that, the gun will kick your shoulder and hurt. I don't want that to happen, it might spoil your shooting." Jack put a cartridge in the gun, closed the breech, and partly raised the gun to his shoulder.

"Haven't you forgot something?" said Hugh.

"I don't know; what?" answered Jack.

"We most generally cock our guns before we shoot," said Hugh, drily. A little ashamed, Jack cocked his gun, aimed and fired. At the report he was pushed back a little, but he was made glad by seeing a little puff of dust rise from the ground somewhere near the stone.

"That was a right good shot," said Hugh earnestly. "If you can do as well as that every time we'll be sending you out to get meat for the ranch pretty soon. The ball struck the ground only two or three inches to the left of the rock. That shot would have killed an antelope if you'd aimed at his heart. Try another, and let's see if you can do it again."

The second shot was not quite so good, and when Jack took down the gun he said to Hugh: "It kicked harder that time."

"Not so," was the reply, "you forgot to hold the butt close to your shoulder, as I told you to. You must always do that. After a little, you will do it without thinking about it. Now let me fire two or three shots. I want to see how the sights are myself."

He fired several shots, the first two striking a little above the mark, the third just below it, while the fourth did not knock up any dust, but seemed to jar the stone, and was followed by a curious screaming sound, loud at first, and quickly dying away. "That was the ball singing," said he, in answer to Jack's question. "The lead hit the rock and glanced off and went sailing away over the prairie. You must just see the tip of the foresight on the mark. Draw it fine. If you pull the trigger when it's there, you will hit every time."

An hour more was spent in shooting at this mark, and before it was over, Jack had come to understand a great deal about his gun, and had received much praise from his teacher. "You're doing well, my son, and it won't take you long to learn how to shoot. If you pick up riding, roping and packing as easily as you do shooting, your uncle will be hiring you to work for wages before snow flies. Now let's go up to the house and wipe out the gun."

After Hugh had shown Jack how to clean his rifle, and had explained to him the importance of keeping it clean, free from rust and sand, and always ready for use under all circumstances, he said, "Of course, in these days we don't have to look out for enemies like we used to in old times. Nowadays the wars are pretty much over in these parts, yet of course there's plenty of places where the Indians are bad yet, and nobody knows when they'll make trouble anywhere. Why, nobody will ever know how many people got killed there when they were building the railroad back on the plains. I scouted from Julesburg west to Cheyenne at that time, and it was an everyday matter to find two or three graders stuck full of arrows along the track. That was the time when the Pawnee scouts were guarding the road, and it was fun to see them fellows get out when there was an alarm and chase the hostiles. Them Pawnees just loved a fight, and they had never been whipped when Major North was leading them, so they did not know what fear was. They'd turn out at any time of the day or night and chase the Sioux and Cheyennes as long as their horses could run. It was a picnic for them.

"I had some good friends in that camp. One fellow, especially, that they called Itching Buffalo, was brave, and he had powerful medicine. They said he had been down into one of them houses where the medicine animals have their councils. The others used to say that he couldn't be killed, and it's sure that he was always in the front of the fighting and never got hit. There's surely something queer about Indian medicine. Take old Whirlwind, the Cheyenne, in that fight he had with the Sacs. Every feather was cut from his war bonnet, but not a bullet hit him, nor his medicine that he carried on it.

"But I'm forgetting that you don't know anything about these things. It's likely you will though, if you and I are much together. What I started to say was this. In old times a man's life often depended on his having his gun ready for use. If he went out for his horse, picketed close to camp, or went for wood, or down to the creek for water, he carried his gun with him, and it was always in good order and ready for use. It isn't that way here or now, but it may be so yet. So you'd better learn to keep your gun clean, and to have it with you always. It ain't much trouble to learn this, and it may save your life sometime.

"Well, there comes the men with a bunch of horses. Let's go down to the corral and look 'em over."

CHAPTER VII
HUGH CHASED BY INDIANS

Jack's first long ride had made him pretty sore; all his muscles pained him. Hugh said he must keep riding and soon he would be all right.

For several days after this, Hugh and Jack rode together, and each day they went a little further and in a new direction. Each day Jack found riding easier, and before long he felt perfectly at home on Old Grey. Each day after they got home from the ride, they took the rifle down on the flat in front of the house and fired a number of shots at the white rock, and several times Jack hit it, and all his shots were good ones, and the bullets struck close to the mark. Hugh was pleased with the boy's steadiness and told him that before long they would go out and take a hunt.

Besides the rifle-shooting Jack was learning something about horses and how to use them. Now, when he went into the corral with Hugh, he no longer felt afraid that the horses would run over him. The day after their first ride, Hugh and Jack led Old Grey up to a big section of a cottonwood log that Mrs. Carter used in mounting her horse, and, standing on this, Jack saddled and bridled the grey. Hugh showed him how to do it, and then stood by and watched, and when Jack did anything wrong, he corrected him, and helped him change it. After two or three days Jack understood how to saddle up so well that Hugh no longer watched him.

One day Jack had his first lesson in roping—what he had always read of as lassoing. Hugh called the rope a lassrope, or a reata—this being a Spanish word meaning rope. The two took a rope and went into the big corral, and for a time practised throwing at the snubbing post, which stood in its centre. Hugh showed Jack just how it was done, and after he had thrown the rope two or three times he handed it to Jack, and told him to coil it and to throw it. In two or three days Jack found that he could catch the post about half the time, and that throwing the rope, which at first had seemed to him such hard work, was very easy. Several times he caught Old Grey in the corral. After he had come to understand as much as this, Hugh had him practise on horseback, showing him how to throw from the saddle, and how to fasten his rope by two or three turns about the horn, so as to hold anything that he might catch with the noose. He warned him how to handle his rope in taking the turns around the horn, with the thumb and finger held up, not down, so that he should not get them caught under the rope, for many men have lost their fingers in this way, having them cut off between the rope and the horn when the pull came in throwing a steer. So it was that as they rode along, Jack would throw the rope at one sage-bush after another, pulling up those which he caught and then gathering the rope for a fresh throw. This was pretty good fun, and when he grew tired of it, he would coil up his rope and hang it on his saddle by the loop that was fastened there to hold it, and then he and Hugh would talk about the things they saw, and those that Hugh had seen and heard in his long life on the prairie.

The whole of each day was passed in the open air; and this life, so different from that led by the boy in his city home, soon began to affect his health and his spirits. His appetite increased enormously, his flesh began to harden, and his face, under exposure to the keen cool wind and the unshadowed rays of the sun, to take on a hue of brown that it had never shown before. Each night he was heartily and healthily tired, and an hour or two after supper he went to bed, where he slept like a log until called next morning. Each day began with the sun and was enjoyed through every hour. As he became accustomed to his horse, Hugh taught him to mount from the right side, as the Indians do, and urged him to learn to ride bareback, telling him of the skill shown by the Indians in their war and hunting trips, when they use no saddle, but cling to the naked horse.

After he had been a week at the ranch, his uncle told Jack that he was going to send in to the railroad, and advised him to write to his mother, and to tell her that it might be a month or more before she would again hear from him, and the boy did so, sending a long and enthusiastic account of the place and the people. Mr. Sturgis also wrote to his sister and brother-in-law, telling what Jack's life had been up to that time, of the marked interest felt by the boy in all that he saw and did, and of his changed appearance and improved health. These letters made two people in the distant city very happy.

One afternoon, after they had been practising with the rifle, and had cleaned and put it away, Hugh said to Jack, "Now, son, to-morrow, unless your uncle wants me to do something else, we'll ride over toward Sand Creek and see if we can't kill something. Mrs. Carter says we're about out of meat, and she wants me to kill an antelope. Let me see that butcher knife of yours that I took off your belt the other day. If it's a new one it'll need grinding, of course."

Jack ran and brought the knife, and Hugh looked at it and tried its edge on his thumb. "Yes," said he, "it's just out of the shop and we'll have to put an edge on it. No telling till I get it on the stone what sort of a piece of steel it is. Come on and turn for me and I'll find out."

They went down to the blacksmith's shop, and while Jack turned the handle of the grindstone, Hugh ground the knife and afterwards whetted it on the oil-stone until its edge was keen. "'Pears to me," he said, "that this is a pretty good knife. I expect your uncle bought it for you! Most young fellows that come out here carry a dirk knife with a big bone handle and a guard, that ain't no earthly use except in a fight, and they don't expect to fight; they expect to use the knife to butcher with. What you want is just a common skinning knife, such as a butcher uses—what you've got here. Now put it back in your sheath, and if we have any luck to-morrow, you'll have a chance to try it."

When they had left the shop and walked up to the house, and Hugh had seated himself on the ground in the sun, and Jack had thrown himself down beside him, the boy said: "Hugh, you spoke the other day about the Pawnees, and said you had seen them and had some friends among them. I wish you'd tell me about them. I've read about them in Cooper's novels. Don't you remember that Leather Stocking when he got very old lived among the Pawnees, and had the young chief Hard Heart, for his son. He must have been a splendid man. I remember the description of the fight, when he killed the Dakota chief. It was fine."

"Well," said Hugh, "I never knew any of them people; likely they were before my time, but the story you read was likely true, for them Pawnees has surely killed plenty Sioux. I expect there's nothing a Pawnee likes better than to get at the Sioux. I have seen quite a few Pawnees in my time, and I've stopped some in their villages, and they're good people, no mistake about that. They are kind, and they give you the best they've got; and they're brave. I don't want to be with better people. Some of 'em helped me out of a bad fix once, and I ain't never forgot it. That's the time I saw the prettiest horse I ever looked at. It was while I was scouting up at the end of the track that I saw him. He belonged to an Indian,—Sioux or Cheyenne, I expect—anyhow they were hostiles, and they chased me, and if I had had far to go, I expect they'd have caught me. They might have done so anyhow if it hadn't been for them Pawnees.

"I had gone out from the graders' camp to see if I couldn't get an antelope, for the camp was clean out of fresh meat. I rode up out of the valley, and along on the high prairie, back from the creek, but not too far back, for I expected likely I'd get jumped, and I wanted to have a good show to make a run for it. There hadn't been no Indians seen for quite a while, and the boys working on the track were getting pretty bold. One of them even wanted to go hunting with me. He didn't have no horse to ride, said he would go afoot, that he could keep up, if I didn't ride too fast. I told him he had better stop in camp if he wanted to keep his hair safe, and, anyhow, he couldn't go with me. I knew that because Indians hadn't been seen, that didn't signify there weren't none in the country. The more you don't see them fellows—when you're in a hostile country—the harder you've got to look out for 'em. And there was a company, or part of a company, of Major North's Pawnees camped about ten or fifteen miles further up the creek, and I expected that the Sioux, if there was any about, would cut in behind the Pawnees, and likely tackle the graders' camp, if they saw any show to get away with it. Well, I hadn't gone more'n a couple of miles or so before I came over a little rise, and saw a buck antelope feeding, in easy shot. I killed him and tied him to the saddle, and started back to camp; but I hadn't gone far when I saw three Indians come in sight, right between me and the camp. They saw me as soon as I did them, and as soon as they saw me, they charged. They were quite a ways off, maybe a mile or more; but that did not give me much time to fool away. I cut loose the meat from my saddle, and started for the bluffs, thinking I'd get down into the creek valley, and either head them and get to camp, or else ride for the Pawnee camp. When I got to the bluffs, looking all the time for a place to get down, by George! I couldn't see one; it was so steep, even in the best place, that you couldn't get no horse down, without he had wings. Of course a man could have clumb down afoot, but not a horse. Well, the Indians were a-coming all the time, and one of 'em was nigh a half mile ahead of the other two; those two had not gained much, but the fellow in the lead, he was surely a-coming. While I was looking for a place to get down I'd noticed a little point running out into the valley, with three pines on it, and I made for them, for I says to myself, 'I ain't a-going to let them fellows have this horse, and then get killed afoot.'

"I got to the trees and stopped and got off. The lead Indian kept a-coming; and, sir, he surely had a good horse. It was a big iron-grey, powerful and swift, I could tell by the way he overhauled my horse, for mine wan't no slouch, and I hadn't let him linger much by the way. Why, when that grey's foot struck the ground it seemed like he was galloping on cushions, it was so easy. The Indian came up to within about four hundred yards of the trees, and then he wheeled his horse and rode off in a wide circle and met his party, and they stopped and talked a while, and then they started and charged straight at me. They did not worry me much, for I knew they wouldn't come right close, and they couldn't get around me. If they'd been able to circle in behind me, I expect they'd have bothered me considerable. As it was, I kept watching that grey horse, and thinking about him, and figuring to see if there wasn't some way I could get hold of him; but I did not see any. The Indians kept a-charging up and a-charging up, every time coming a little closer. One of them had a gun, and every time they turned off, he would shoot toward me; but they were too far off to hit anything. You see, in them days, britch-loaders weren't very common anywhere, and the Indians, of course, knew less about 'em than white people. They calculated on my having a muzzle-loader, and were trying to tempt me to shoot, so as to make a charge when my gun was empty, and finish me before I could load. I had a little britch-loading Sharp's rifle, with paper cartridges, but I could load pretty fast if I had to, could beat a muzzle-loader all to death.

"At last the Indians came up so close that I made up my mind I would give them a shot, and I thought I would try the man riding the grey, just on the chance that if I killed him, the grey might keep on towards my horse and I would get a chance to catch him. I stood up against the tree and took a careful aim at the man, shooting plenty high, for they were a long shot off. Just as I pulled though, the man I was shooting at swung his horse, and my ball went by him and killed the horse of the man behind him. It fell, and the rider jumped up and ran off, jumping from side to side, like he was plenty scared I would shoot at him. They all stopped away out of range and began to talk again, when, all of a sudden, I saw six more men ride up in sight, quite a long way off. Thinks I to myself, 'If these is more Sioux, I am surely in for it now;' but in a moment I noticed that these six men were coming in pairs, the way soldiers ride, and then I knew it was a bunch of Pawnees. I ran to untie my horse and charge out, but the Sioux had seen the Pawnees as soon as I did, and they had just everlastingly lit out over the prairie. The Pawnees struck out after the Sioux, and by the time I was in the saddle and riding, they were a couple of miles ahead of me, and going hard. I knew it was no use for me to run my horse down trying to catch them, so I rode out to where I had dropped my meat, picked it up, and went back to the graders' camp.

"The next day I went up to the Pawnee camp, for I kept thinking about that grey horse, and if the Pawnees had captured him, I wanted to buy him. I knew that they would understand just as well as I did how good a horse he was, and I thought likely that if they had got him, they would not sell him; but I was going to make a bluff at buying him, anyhow. When I got to the camp I talked a while with Major North's brother, who was in command there, and at last told him about the chase that they had had yesterday, and how the Sioux had had me cornered. I said I wanted to see one of the Indians that was in the fight. When the head man of these six came to the tent, I saw that it was old Ikūts tárūsh, and I talked with him about the chase, and asked him what they had done. He said that they had killed two of the Sioux. Then I asked him about the grey horse, and whether they had got it. He shook his head.

"'No,' he said, 'that horse got killed. The horse and the two men who were riding him were both killed, and the other man and his horse got away.' I don't know when I've been more sorry about the death of any dumb beast, that wasn't a dog, than I was that time. Ikūts tárūsh was sorry too."

CHAPTER VIII
JACK'S FIRST ANTELOPE

After breakfast next morning, Hugh and Jack saddled their horses and set out for Sand Creek. Before they started, Hugh brought out from the house a gun sling which he fastened to Jack's saddle on the left side. It was like a long narrow leather bag open at both ends, and held by two long straps, one of which passed over the horn of the saddle, while the other was tied behind the cantle, so that the bag lay along the horse's side under the left hand stirrup leather, and just below where the rider's knee would come. Then he slipped the rifle in, so that the stock lay along the horse's shoulder and within easy reach of the hand. This, he told Jack, was the best way to carry his rifle, and although at first the gun seemed in Jack's way, and a little uncomfortable, he soon got used to feeling it there.

The day was bright and pleasant, and skirting the base of the mountain for two or three miles, they rode over the ridge which separates the waters of Sand Creek from the Muddy. The prairie was everywhere the same dull brown; a few cattle and horses were seen feeding on the distant hillsides. Far away toward the Sand Creek, Hugh pointed out a number of white dots on the prairie, which he told Jack were antelope. He said to him:

"Now, son, when we get near those antelope, who is going to do the hunting, you or me?"

"Why, I don't know, Hugh. I've been wondering about that. You know what it is best to do, and if you will tell me, I'll try to do just as you say."

"That's good, son," said Hugh, "I want you to kill the meat, if we get any, but it's a heap better for you to start in right to learn how to hunt than it is for you to kill anything. I guess the best way is for me to do the hunting for a little while, so that you can watch me and learn. Now, I'll tell you two or three things about hunting that it's worth while for you to remember. When you're hunting, always go alone if you can, or else with one other man, if you and he understand each other. You'll never have any luck if you hunt with a man who is always crazy to be ahead. If he acts that way, you just quit him and don't go with him again. Such a man will everlastingly scare away the game, and he'll wear out your patience, and make you wish he was somewhere else a good many times before you get to camp. If you're alone you'll have yourself to blame for any blunders you make, and it's easy for you to forgive yourself for the fool things you do, but it ain't easy to forgive any one else. If you're hunting with a man who understands how to hunt better'n you do, let him do the hunting, and, if he wants it bad, let him do the shooting too. But I wouldn't hunt with a man that makes a hog of himself, if I was you.

"If you're hunting with another man, always have it understood who is to hunt and who is to shoot. Don't ever hunt side by side with any one. Two men are twice as easy seen as one, and make twice as much noise; so they are more likely to be noticed by the game. You can bet that the game is always on the watch, and, do the best you can, it is pretty likely to see you. So you want to go slow, and to be just as careful as you know how. When you get to the top of the hill, go mighty slow. Only take a step or two at a time, and look over every inch of the ground that you can see beyond you, as your head rises. Always take your hat off. A hat sticks up two or three inches higher than your eyes, and can be seen before you can see whatever it is that's looking at you. In the same way you'll see the horns of an elk or an antelope that's over the ridge from you before you see his head.

"When you see any game, don't dodge down quick, so's to get out of sight. Even if the animal seems to be looking right at you, don't move, or, if you do, lower your head very slowly. The chances are that the animal hasn't seen you, or if it has, that it don't know what you are, and if you keep still, it won't notice you. Likely after staring at you for a minute or two, it'll look some other way, or put down its head to take a bite of grass. Then you must drop down out of sight and begin to crawl to the top of the hill. You must remember that when you see this head, there's the whole crest of the hill between your shoulder, from which you must shoot, and the antelope's heart that you must shoot at. You've got to see the antelope's whole body before you can shoot, and you've got to get up to the top of the hill before you can see his whole body. While you are getting to the top of the hill, you must watch out and not show yourself, either to the animal you have seen, or to any others that there are with it. Likely as not there will be six or eight others in the bunch, scattered about on the hillside, and all of 'em keeping a good look-out. To get a standing shot, you must keep out of sight of all of 'em. For a part of the way to the top of the hill you can go stooping down low, then you'll have to get down on your hands and knees and creep, and at last you'll have to drop flat on your belly and crawl. If the grass is any way thick and high, you won't have much trouble, but if it's short and thin, maybe the antelope will see you and run off.

"Remember to keep your head down, and don't feel that you've got to look every two or three minutes to see whether the game is there or not. It won't run without it gets scared, and if it starts to run, your looking won't stop it. When, by crawling as carefully as you know how, you've got up so you can see your animal again, wait until it puts its head down to feed, or looks away from you, and then raise your head a little bit to see if there are any others with it, so as to get an idea of the general situation. When you raise your head, if you can see the whole body of your antelope, you had better shoot. If the animal is broadside toward you, shoot at his heart; if head toward you, at the point of his breast; if tail toward you, shoot between the hams, about three inches below the tail; if quartering to you, at the point of the shoulder, or, if quartering from you, at the flank, just in front of the ham. You want your bullet to go through the heart, and you must remember that the heart lies just back of the fore legs, and low down. The life lies low. Don't forget that. There is a little curl of hair on an antelope just back of the elbow, and here the hair is thin, and the dark skin shows through and makes this curl look black. That is the mark I always shoot at, if I can. An antelope hit there don't go far.

"Now, it ain't much use for me to tell you all these things, because you've got to see 'em done and to do 'em yourself before you can know much about hunting, but maybe what I've told you will make it easier for you to learn.

"There's one thing I ain't told you about, because I suppose you know all about it without being told. That's the wind. All animals are terrible keen smellers, and of course you can't never get up to them from the windward side. You've always got to go to leeward. Let the wind blow from them to you, not from you to them."

"I think I understand all that you've told me," said Jack, "and I'll try to remember it. Do you think we'll get any game to-day?"

"Oh, we'll sure see some antelope," answered Hugh, "but maybe we won't find what we want in a good place. You see, the does are going to have young ones pretty soon now, and so I don't like to kill 'em. The bucks are in better order, and if we can find one of them in a place where we can get at him, we'll try to kill him."

As they rode on farther and farther, the country became more broken, and they passed over one little ridge after another, with little valleys between. They had almost reached the top of one of these ridges, when Hugh suddenly stopped and looked intently toward the right, where the valley widened out a little. Jack stopped and looked too, but he could see nothing except the brown prairie.

"See 'em?" said Hugh, after a moment.

"No, I don't see anything," replied Jack.

"Look down on the hillside, just above that little alkali lake," said Hugh. "There's two antelope there—old does, I reckon. We won't bother with them. Likely they'll get our wind after we've gone a little further, and run up by us."

"Oh, yes, I see them now," said Jack. They crossed the next valley and rode up over the ridge beyond, and as they went down that hill, Hugh called out, "Here they come, sure enough;" and looking to his right, Jack saw two antelope running towards them very fast. They ran smoothly and evenly, and as easily and fast up hill as down, or on the level. In a moment they were passing quite close in front of the riders, and had run up the hill and disappeared over its crest.

"We've got to watch out now," said Hugh. "We're liable to run on an antelope any minute. Don't ride up over these hills in a hurry, and keep a good look-out."

The next hill they came to, Hugh checked his horse before he got to the top, and looked carefully over the ground ahead. After doing this, he lifted his bridle rein and let his horse take a few steps forward, and then stopped again and looked. Then he went forward again—quite to the top of the hill, and looked again. Nothing was seen, and they went on down into the valley and across it. Jack noticed that as he went up the hill old Baldy seemed to be looking just as his rider was. His ears were pricked up; he moved slowly and carefully and seemed to be expecting something all the time. Each time they came to the crest of a hill the same thing was repeated, but nothing was seen. At length, however, after one of the looks, Hugh bent low over his horse's neck, and at the same time turned him round and rode down the hill again. Jack, who had kept close to Hugh's side, had seen nothing, for his head was a foot or two below the old man's.

After they had got part way down the hill, Hugh spoke in a low tone and said, "There's a couple of antelope on the side hill just above here. They're lying down, and I guess we can get up within shot. Throw down your rope and take your gun and come on."

In a moment Jack was off his horse, and had thrown down his bridle rein and his rope. Then he pulled his rifle out of its case and went to Hugh, who had taken his rifle from its case and stood waiting for him. Jack was beginning to feel excited, and his heart was pounding against his ribs, and as he ran up to Hugh, he was not looking where he was going, and he caught his foot in a sage-bush, and would have fallen flat if Hugh had not reached out his hand and caught him by the shoulder.

"Steady, son: steady," said Hugh. "Don't be in such a rush. There's plenty of time, and if you're going to do any hunting you mustn't go ramming around this way. Go slow and easy. Those antelope ain't going to run away unless we've scared 'em already, and if we've scared 'em, they're out of shot by this time."

"Let's hurry, Hugh, and maybe we can get a shot at them."

"Easy, easy. Don't I tell you that you can't make anything by rushing 'round. I want you to learn how to hunt, not to act like a rattlehead. Now come with me and go slow and quiet, and we'll take a look."

The two walked forward toward the mountain for a hundred yards or so, Jack eagerly pressing forward, while Hugh walked slowly. The wind was now blowing in their faces. At length Hugh pointed to their right and ahead, and said to Jack, "Now, those antelope are over the ridge there, lying down on the hillside. Do you want me to go up and find 'em, and then come back and get you, so's you can shoot at 'em, or would you rather go up yourself and find 'em, and take the shot? You can do just whichever you like."

"Oh, may I go up alone and do it all myself? That'll be splendid. I'd rather do that than have any help," said Jack, "Can I start now?"

"Yes," said Hugh. "Go ahead, but mind and be careful, or else the first thing you know you'll see them antelope a long way off. I'll set here and smoke till I hear the shot." As he said this, Hugh sat down on the ground, and putting his rifle beside him, felt in his pocket for his pipe, while Jack went on towards the hilltop. He walked very fast, keeping his eyes fixed on the crest of the hill before him, and before he had come to the top of the ridge he was breathing pretty fast. As he got nearer to the top, he began to be still more excited. He remembered what Hugh had said about shooting at a particular spot on the antelope, and he hoped he could hit it. If he did, he felt sure that the antelope would drop. It would be great to take the animal in and be able to say that he had killed it, and not Hugh. Suddenly, as he was thinking of these things, he heard a queer noise off to his left, and then he saw that he was on top of the hill and could see over quite a good deal of the valley in front of him. He thought that the antelope must be somewhere near here. He began to look, very carefully, when suddenly he again heard this curious noise, something like a person blowing his nose, and looking hard in the direction of the sound, he suddenly saw two buck antelope running away from him not very far off. They disappeared over a hill, and in a moment were seen again much further off, running up a high hill, on top of which they stopped and stood looking at him, again making that curious sound. He felt sure that they were the antelope he had been looking for, and he was so disappointed that he felt like crying, only that would do no good. They were now much too far away to shoot at. He watched them for a little while, and then began to walk along the hilltop to make sure that there were no more antelope there. He soon convinced himself of this, and then turned to go back to Hugh. Before he had gone far, he saw him coming, riding his own horse and leading the grey.

"Well," said Hugh, "I saw the antelope run off, and so I brought the horses. What scared them?"

"I don't know, Hugh," was the answer, "but I guess I did. I got up on the hill and was looking around, and suddenly I heard some queer noises off there, and then I heard them again, and then two antelope ran over the hill and up on the mountain there, and stopped and looked."

"Well," said Hugh, "I expect you must have let 'em see you. You've got to be mighty careful when you're crawling up on game."

Jack mounted his horse and rode off beside Hugh. For a little while he kept still, thinking, and struggling with his disappointment; then he spoke and said:

"Hugh, I tried to be smart just now, and so I lost those antelope. Because you have taught me how to do a few things, I thought I could creep up to those animals alone. I made a mistake and I know it now. Don't let me make any more like it, please."

Hugh's face lighted up with pleasure as he heard these words, and he answered, "Son, I'm mighty glad to hear you say this. You talk like a man, and you're going to make a good one, I know it. I figured quite a spell to-day before I made up my mind what I'd do about them antelope, but I was a little mite afraid you was getting the big-head, and I thought I'd try you the way I did. If you'd asked me to take you up to the antelope, you'd have got the shot, and likely now we'd have been butchering, but I expect it is better the way it is. You've learned a lesson of one kind, and before the day's over I'll give you a lesson in hunting. Come on, now, let's lope while we can."

They went on, galloping across the little valleys and going slowly up the hills. Before very long Jack again saw Hugh bend his head and back away from the ridge, and then turn and ride a few yards down the hill and dismount. Jack did the same, and as he drew his rifle from its scabbard, Hugh said to him, "There's a big buck just over the hill, and I think we can get him. Is your gun loaded?"

"No," replied Jack.

"That's right, but you'd better load it now and keep it at half-cock, and then follow me and do just what you see me do."

Hugh walked quietly up the hill and Jack followed him. Again he was excited, but this time he was not breathing fast, and now he felt sure that he would get a shot. When Hugh had nearly reached the top of the hill, he stopped, took off his hat and dropped it on the ground, and putting his hand behind him motioned Jack to stop. After a long look he took two or three steps forward and then stopped again; then two or three more, and then he slowly lowered his head and walked forward in a stooping position. Then he dropped to his knees, and turning, beckoned Jack, who had imitated all his motions, to his side. "The buck is just over there," he whispered, pointing to the crest before him. "Creep up beside me, and look through the grass and try to see him. Don't raise your head and don't hurry. There's plenty of time."

On hands and knees they crept forward a few feet, and then Hugh stretched out his hand and touched Jack, and motioned with his head. The boy stared at the grass before them which was shivering in the wind, but he could see nothing beyond it but the blue sky. At length Hugh bent toward him and whispered, "Don't you see his horns?" Instantly Jack saw that what he had seen several times and had supposed were two black looking weed stalks were the slender horns of an antelope. Hugh saw the change in his companion's face, and whispered again, "Crawl up a few feet more and then get up slowly, rest your left elbow on your knee, and aim just behind the shoulder and low down." Jack crept up past Hugh, and, rising very slowly on one knee, took a careful aim. The buck was lying on a point of the hill, with his face toward the valley and his back toward Jack, who aimed at the side just behind the shoulder and low down, and fired. The buck sprang to his feet, and in half a dozen low, rabbitlike jumps, disappeared over the hill.

Jack had not had time to wonder whether he had missed or not, when he heard Hugh's voice at his ear saying, "Son, you done that well; no one could have done it better. Now, let's go and get the horses."

"Well, but Hugh, where is the antelope? Did I hit him or did I miss?" asked Jack.

"Why, you hit him, of course. Look where he ran. Don't you see that if you'd missed him he would have been in sight before now, either crossing that flat or running up on one of the hills. He ain't gone far. He's our meat."