I walked on along the old trail taken by the lucky fugitive, and up out of the river-valley to a level plateau above. From the top could be seen in the distance several big b.u.t.tes, and a dark pine-tree, which was to be my objective point for the day's hunt. To the right, as I stepped briskly forward, was a large washout, cut deep into the clay soil, broken and irregular, with sage-brush scattered here and there along its sides and bottom. At the head of the washout I spied some yellow long-horned Texas cattle, and gave them a wide berth. I had had some pleasing experiences of their habits, and did not care just then to be stamped flat.

To the left, a few hundred yards away, was a long valley leading to the river and far out into the prairie, wooded in patches, with small pockets at intervals along the sides, filled with low brush. Here at other times I had jumped whitetails from their daytime naps, and once had had a running shot at a large prairie-wolf. Bearing all this in mind, I veered over toward the valley, and had not gone far when I saw in the distance a black-tail buck come skipping out of it, and moving with high, long bounds, as is the way of its kind when frightened or going at speed.

These bounds, by the way, are very curious: the animal lands on all four feet at once, in such a small area that a sombrero would cover the four footprints. On a few occasions, when very badly frightened, I have seen them run level, like a race-horse; but that gait is so unusual as hardly to be considered characteristic of this deer. The deer in question, after a few long jumps, settled down into a trot, then into a walk, and finally stopped and looked about. He did not see me, however, and when he again moved off there was a man jogging quietly along in his wake.

Taking advantage of every little hollow to keep from his sight and make a spurt, I soon reduced the distance between us, and arrived at the further edge of the plateau just in time to see him disappear in some broken country. Continuing cautiously on to where I had last seen him, it became apparent that he had determined upon some definite course, for his tracks led as straight as the nature of the ground would permit to what I knew was the head of a large coulee which ran into the valley from which he had come into view.

As the soil was very hard and dry, and his tracks difficult to follow, I soon determined to leave them and cut straight for the coulee below the point toward which he had been headed, thinking it likely that he would continue his course down the coulee, at least for a short distance. I ought to be able to write that "events turned out exactly as calculated," but they did not. I ran with a fair burst of speed to the edge of the coulee, and when, after quietly watching for twenty minutes, no deer appeared, my mind went back to the foreman's remark about killing a steer.

However, it remained for me to go up to the point where it was probable the buck entered the coulee. I accordingly did so, hunting every inch of the way, and looking for sign and whatever else might turn up. I saw nothing, however, but two grouse that startled me, as they always do, but especially when my nerves are strung up as they were just then. What course the buck had taken, was now the question. Doubling back to my old conclusion that he had gone straight, I went out of the coulee, and followed on the line he had gone. At first it led over another small plateau, then it dipped down again into some more bad lands, cut up and broken with picturesque red scoria hills covered with straggling twisted cedar-trees.

About this time my ardor for this particular buck had begun to subside, and he was now anybody's game. Being somewhat tired as well, I climbed to the top of a round clay b.u.t.te, sat down, and lighted a pipe. I had been smoking for about ten minutes, enjoying the mysterious scenery and thinking what course it would be best to take, when again my buck loomed up for a few seconds in the distance, and once more walked quickly out of sight. This was a great surprise and pleasure, and the pace at which I set out in pursuit would have rejoiced the heart of a messenger boy. I ran as fast as I could, stopping to peer over every rise in the land, and was soon rewarded by a most interesting sight. The buck had come upon another, fully as large if not larger than himself, and they were exchanging greetings across a small washout, each extending his nose and smelling the other. They would sniff a minute and then turn their heads about, flap their long gray ears, and wiggle their short black tails, acting as if they were old friends.

It seems a great pity to shoot such n.o.ble creatures; but unfortunately this thought rarely comes at the right time for the deer. Given, a man having killed nothing for several days, unmercifully guyed by all the cow-boys, and add to that a long and lively chase after constantly vanishing venison,--when, then, the man gets within shooting distance, it is hardly at such a time that his kindly instincts will suggest the propriety of letting the poor beasts escape.

As for myself, with every muscle and nerve at tension from an exciting chase, and mind fairly satisfied of game well earned, it would have taken more self-denial than I pretend to possess not to shoot, especially since we had been living on pork for some time. When fresh meat is plentiful in camp, it is to a real sportsman no sacrifice to let the does and fawns escape, or to shoot them merely with the deadly kodak; but on this day the shack really had to have meat--those lordly heads, too.

There is always a strong desire, when one comes upon game, to shoot at once; but it is a good plan, if possible, to rest and get one's breathing apparatus into proper shape. It is most exasperating, not to say cruel, to wound a deer and have him get away; and there is a good chance of this happening if, before your hand steadies and your head clears, you begin to open fire.

From the direction of the wind it was quite evident that the deer could not scent me, so for some moments I lay watching the animals with lively interest, and wondering what they would do next.

They were apparently satisfied with an occasional sniff at one another, but seemed at the same time to give their attention to something beyond my view. From my position on top of a small mound, or b.u.t.te, where I had crawled with great caution, nothing could be seen either up or down a large washout that was between me and the deer; and I had poked my gun through a bunch of gra.s.s, and was quite prepared to shoot, when the ears, then the head and body, of a large doe, closely followed by a young buck and a yearling, came into full view.

To say that I was surprised but faintly expresses it, and for the time being all idea of shooting left me, as I watched with keenest interest the advent of the new-comers. The old doe, as if aware of her importance as the respected matron of a family, walked sedately past the two bucks without bestowing the least attention upon them, selected a gra.s.sy spot in the sun, pivoted around twice to level her bed, and quietly settled to earth, facing me. The young buck and yearling stood as if not quite decided whether to follow her example, but finally began to nibble gra.s.s and walk about. Here, indeed, was a pretty picture,--an embarra.s.sment of riches. I thought it quite possible to get one big buck, with the chance of a good running shot at the other; and as there was no hurry, and my gun was at a dead rest for the first shot at least, I decided to shoot at the largest buck behind the ear, and then trust to occasion for whatever should follow.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Resting.

Photographed from life by T. G. Ingersoll. From Forest and Stream.]

I felt that excitement was again about to get the upper hand, and I aimed carefully several times before pulling trigger. At last, after a sharp report, the smoke blew directly in my face, and for a second I could see nothing distinctly; but when it cleared away, and I, having pumped a cartridge into place, was again prepared to shoot, what was my astonishment to find that the buck fired at had utterly disappeared, and that the second, far from being frightened, was still standing with his nose poked down into the washout that had been between them.

Without further speculation, I sighted for the neck of buck number two, and at the report he also disappeared; but this time I made out that he fell over forward into the washout. Everything was now afoot and moving about, so taking a quick shot at the doe, behind the shoulder, and three more at the remaining two, the last on the jump, I realized, by seeing them fall, a big day's work, and for the moment felt very proud. It was not until afterward that the feeling came up that my glory would have been quite enough without killing the last three; but then it must be remembered that we needed every pound of meat at the shack.

The two big bucks had fallen into the washout, which was about six feet deep, one directly on top of the other, and it was beyond my strength, without a horse and rope, to pull them out. As it was, I had to clean them in very uncomfortable quarters and not in the most approved manner.

During November, in the northern lat.i.tudes, the sun is early to bed, and it was four o'clock and getting gray when the last deer had been cared for. At dark I washed all trace of blood from my hands and arms in the river near the shack, and strolled into the kitchen with as woebegone a countenance as I could muster. I intended to get even with the foreman.

A sardonic smile stole over his face, and a disgusted look over those of the others, as they noticed my unstained hands. I remarked to the foreman that I had shot some game. He promptly replied, "You didn't; if you had, you'd have been so proud you'd be as red as a scoria b.u.t.te with deer blood, to show off. No such luck; and as long as you and that thirty-eight-caliber pop-gun go rustling around this country, I reckon we'll eat pork and be ---- glad to get it."

To this I answered that if he would promise to pack in what game I had killed, and would do it, I would give him the hunting-knife that he had been trying to steal for the last week. He instantly called it a bargain, and asked how far it was to the game. I answered that it was about five miles, and that I would take him there in the morning.

So next morning we started on horseback, and I went far enough with him to point out exactly where the deer were, and leaving him, I rode over to call on a friend who had a small horse-ranch in the neighborhood. I stayed at this horse-ranch overnight, and did not get back to our ranch until the following evening about supper-time.

It leaked out that the cow-boys had fairly screamed with delight when the truth was known, and would rather have been discharged than help the foreman pack in the five deer. He did pack them, however, in good faith; and both he and the cow-punchers, now that they had fresh meat, spared me their jokes, and for several days did not try to lend me their pitching ponies.

Thus ended a most eventful hunt; and although it was unquestionably a very exceptional piece of good luck to have killed five deer neatly, still it is none the less a fact that with a thirty-eight-caliber rifle I have always done the best work. With a fifty-caliber I have shot deer in their vital parts and then had them run great distances, whereas with the smaller bullet, when properly hit, they would almost invariably double up on the spot. I can give no explanation that will help to determine why the smaller-bored rifle has always, with me, been the most efficient.

_Bronson Rumsey._

Photographing Wild Game

The sportsman who wishes to subst.i.tute the camera for the rifle should possess not only a special knowledge of photography, but also many qualifications not absolutely necessary to a successful hunter. Any one who has had much experience in hunting large game will remember occasions when, if he had only had a camera, it would have been easy enough to have made successful pictures. But, once provided with a camera, and having started out with the sole object in view of making negatives, he will find the opportunities for successful work few and far between.

The true sportsman is not a game-butcher. When he has shot what he wants, he may well refuse to avail himself of chances to kill, and turn to the camera as a weapon with which to bring home trophies of his abilities as a hunter. Few indeed are the localities where hunters complain of being able to kill more game than they need; yet it has been my good fortune for a number of years to spend my annual vacation in a country where game is so abundant that little effort is needed to provide camp with the needed fresh meat.

Having in years gone by, through force of circ.u.mstances, acquired a thorough technical knowledge of photography, it naturally occurred to me to attempt the use of the camera when there was no need for a rifle.

Although I had such a knowledge of photography and of the habits of the game as had always enabled me to meet with fair success in the use of either camera or rifle, I had no adequate idea of the difficulties of my undertaking until they became real from actual experience. My first effort was with a small and excellent hand camera, which also served to make views of camp scenes and the beautiful scenery of the country in which I was hunting. I was especially fortunate in that my hunting-ground was on some one of the great park plateaus of northwestern Colorado.

These plateaus are indeed the sportsman's paradise. They comprise numerous great parks, forests of timber, and lakes ranging in size from the tiny pool of brown snow-water to those large enough to deserve a name and a place on the map. They are the great summer home of the deer and elk. Frequent rains cause a most abundant growth of herbage suitable for their food, and the higher ground provides cool retreats for the male deer and elk while their horns are growing and hardening. They never leave these plateaus until driven down by the snow. Here elk and deer have for the past few years existed in sufficient numbers to give abundant sport. Farther to the north, where these plateaus break into the sage-brush plains of Wyoming, antelope inhabit the larger parks, and from these feed up for some distance through more open timber on the slopes of the surrounding hills. In this more northerly locality I have succeeded in getting photographs of elk, antelope, and deer, all within a distance of but a few miles.

My first experience with an ordinary camera soon showed me that, at the usual distances, pictures of game would be so small as to be of no use.

With a year's experience to guide me, I began the construction of a camera especially adapted for the purpose in view. For my lens I used a Dallmeyer rapid rectilinear, whole-plate size. I used only the back combination of the lens, which gave a focal length of about twenty-two inches. The lens was equipped with a Prosch duplex shutter, which was, I found, even when set for its lowest speed, too rapid for my purpose. In determining upon a camera, I had already arrived at the following conclusions: the camera must be a hand camera, equipped with a film-roll holder; it must be water-proof, light, not easily damaged, and of small size--_i.e._, must make only a small-sized negative; focusing must be done at the front by moving the lens.

To obtain these conditions, I constructed my first camera in the following manner: I made a rectangular core of wood exactly the shape I wished the inside of my camera to be. The front end of this core was cylindrical. I then built up on this core of wood a paper sh.e.l.l, using strong Manila paper saturated with sh.e.l.lac as it was rolled upon the core. This was then wound with a strong cord at intervals of about one half inch, in order to provide cell s.p.a.ces and consequently stiffness; and over all was stretched strong muslin, fastened to the core with liquid glue. The outside was then sh.e.l.lacked until it was absolutely smooth and hard, when the wooden core was removed, and there remained a paper tube which admirably met my requirements. A wooden frame, fitted to the larger end, received the roll holder, and the cylindrical part of the front received a bra.s.s tube covered with velvet, to the end of which was soldered the lens f.l.a.n.g.e. This tube could be easily moved in and out of the end, while the friction of the velvet always kept it in place.

Upon this tube I marked the focus for various distances. Of course the lens was capable of making a much larger picture than my roll holder would receive, and the surplus light was cut off by a metal diaphragm placed inside of the tube.

I found that this camera, when provided with a strap, could be carried slung on the shoulder with very little trouble.

The slowness of the lens I found a drawback, and after a year's experience I obtained a 12-15 Dallmeyer single-combination lens, which I had mounted in aluminum, thereby saving considerable weight. For this lens I constructed a camera on a different principle, as the length was too great to carry conveniently in the form of a rigid apparatus. This in turn I have displaced with a Dallmeyer telephoto lens, mounted in aluminum, which I consider a marvelous instrument.

I have not succeeded in obtaining any pictures with it as yet. The difficulties of using it are in some respects greater than with the other lenses, as it requires to be focused on the object. I have, however, designed a camera with the ground gla.s.s fastened rigidly in the top, and with a movable mirror which permits of the focus being obtained without removing the roll holder. This camera, when extended, is thirty inches long, and when packed for carrying is reduced one half.

It is home-made; but, if constructed by experienced workmen, I believe would very satisfactorily fill the conditions necessary for a game-camera. The weight and size, together with the necessity of focusing, require, however, some kind of a support. I believe that a pair of adjustable legs, with a universal joint which could be easily attached to the front of the camera, and a small handle by which the back could be supported by the hand and moved in any required direction, would answer every purpose. The image made by this lens is so large, and the field comparatively so small, that it requires the facility and precision of sighting which are obtained in the rifle. I use no finders, preferring sights exclusively.

With this incomplete sketch of a hunting photographer's weapons, let us consider the conditions under which he must capture his game; and suppose him in pursuit of the king of all stags, the n.o.ble elk,--giving him the advantage even of being in hearing of the clear bugle-note which never fails to thrill the hunter who has once heard it and so knows its significance. To make a successful stalk with a rifle, he would simply get his game between himself and the wind, and approach with such caution, and under such cover, as circ.u.mstances permitted. When once within gunshot, ninety-nine times out of one hundred he might make a successful termination to the stalk, without ever seeing more of his game, before firing, than a patch of brown as large as his hat. The swaying of the white antler-tips in the midst of the thicket, the particular shade of the moving brown seen through the openings, would almost always disclose the location of the vital point to the eye of the experienced, where the tyro would distinguish nothing but the shadow of the thicket, moving twigs, and the browns and russets of bark and leaves.

Under such circ.u.mstances as these, while the hunter triumphantly raises his rifle, the photographer crouches hopeless and discouraged. Far different conditions are needed for a successful result of his undertaking. Not only must the wind be in his face, but the sun must be at his back, or upon either side. He must be in dense cover, and yet cover that permits the free range of his lens. His game must be in the open, without intervening objects, and must be in the broad glare of sunshine. The hunter never realizes how seldom an animal comes into full view until he has followed him around with a camera, and met with failure after failure, after having had numbers of chances which with a rifle would have put a speedy end to the chase. When the bull elk are whistling they are an easy animal to stalk; yet I should consider it an easier task by far to kill fifty full-grown bulls than to obtain a picture of one which would combine photographic perfection with satisfactory composition.

He who follows game with a camera, and who feels the satisfaction of matching his faculties against those of his game, will, however, derive a keen sporting enjoyment from his failures; and if he meets with success, great will be his pride and contentment. He will learn much about the habits of game which has escaped him before; and, not needing to use his rifle, his opportunities for observation will be more frequent and satisfactory. For myself, the few pictures that comprise the results of my hunting with the camera have brought me a keener enjoyment and a greater sense of satisfaction than the finest heads in my collection, possibly on the ground that we are disposed to value most that which has cost us most.

I succeeded in obtaining a satisfactory photograph of some antelope one morning, when we were on the homeward journey from one of my hunts. I had ridden on ahead of the pack-train, and was just coming to the edge of the timber when I saw the white spots of several antelope feeding in the sage-brush just beyond. Tumbling off my horse, I crept along until as near as I deemed safe, when I stood up behind the trunk of a tree and, pointing my camera through an opening, made a noise to attract the attention of the antelope. They lifted their heads, and with a quick snap I had captured them. They remained motionless, and turning my roll to get another film, I found I had used the last one. With careful and slow development, I obtained a fair negative. I had judged the distance to be seventy-five yards, and the focus showed that I was nearly correct.

My most successful attempt at elk was made the year following, when, after two weeks of stormy, bad weather, during which I had seen abundance of game, but had had no chance to photograph, I started off, with a pack-animal and one man, to make a quiet camp ten miles away, where I knew there were plenty of elk. When we had gone as far as we dared, we pitched camp in a little park, and picketing our pack-animals, started to reconnoiter. I found an abundance of fresh tracks and wallows, and finally saw two young bull elk feeding in the open. The only point which would enable me to get near them with a fair light, required me to get very nearly in line with the wind; but as there was nothing else to be done, I determined to chance it. When I arrived at this point, I found that in feeding they had walked farther away, and I was obliged to crawl over the intervening s.p.a.ce. We had nearly accomplished this when the circling of the wind gave them an inkling of our presence, and put them on the alert. We remained quiet, hoping that the wind would change back; but it did not, and they stole away into the thicket.

About three o'clock we caught sight of a twelve-point bull coming out to drink. I could have snapped at him with a downward shot, as I was on the slope above him; but as the distance was great, I decided to try and get nearer. He walked in behind some willows and, as I discovered afterward, lay down in some water to take his mud-bath. While this was going on I began to slide down the hill, watching for his reappearance, when to my surprise and disgust I suddenly saw the head and horns of an elk that was lying down one hundred yards to my right and almost on a level with me. I did not want to disturb him, with a chance of startling all the other elk in the neighborhood before I had a chance to photograph them, and so decided to try and get a photograph of his head and horns. With my man George following at my heels, I finally crept up behind a low spruce-tree about seventy-five feet from his highness. I knew from experience, however, that his head and horns would be almost undistinguishable on the negative against the surrounding objects.

Getting my camera ready, and leaning out from behind the bush, I told George to whistle so that the elk would get up. To my great surprise, he turned his head in our direction and, without rising, gave vent to a shrill blast of defiance or annoyance, as it seemed. After repeating these tactics several times, and finally shouting at him, only to meet with the same answer, I finally decided to stand up, in the hope that when he arose he would hesitate an instant and give me an opportunity.

Upon performing my part of the program, he gave one look in my direction, sprang to his feet, and was off with such rapidity that, although I snapped the shutter, the resulting negative showed only an undistinguishable blur, due partly to his motion and partly to my haste in trying to make a quick exposure.

We then followed in the direction of the large band, the bulls of which were making a great deal of noise. I finally located them about half a mile away in the heavy timber. The shadows then were very long in the open s.p.a.ce, and I knew there was no use of trying to photograph except in the open. As a forlorn hope I told George to hurry through the timber and get on the other side of the band, while I would stand in the open s.p.a.ce, so that I might get a snap shot if they came through. In a short time I heard a commotion in the band, and a sharp stampede in different directions, accompanied by loud bugling by the head of the band, whose voice was so deep and sonorous that I readily recognized it as the one I had heard a few nights previous in the same locality. At that time my companion and I had christened him the "elk with the fog-horn." In the midst of the commotion, George gave vent to several startling yells, which I supposed were made in his effort to turn the band.

In a short time he returned, breathless and tired. As soon as he was able to speak, he recounted a tale of wonder which can readily be imagined by any of the readers of this chapter for whom George has acted in the multiple capacity of guide, cook, philosopher, and friend. He said that when the band got his wind, after several short stampedes, they dashed directly toward him, and as I had made him leave his rifle with me, he had no alternative except to climb a tree or jump out where he could be seen and swing his arms and yell. He said that this stopped the band, but the old bull with the fog-horn walked directly toward him until he thought he was going to charge, and looked for a convenient tree. After inspecting George, however, the bull walked off with his band, apparently not much alarmed. George and I returned to camp with nothing to show for a hard day's work, cooked our supper, and tumbled into our blankets.

A starlight night gave promise of a perfect day on the morrow, and we arranged to get up before daylight, so as to catch the elk before they had lain down. The next day the same experience was repeated: not a photographic shot came in our way, and about three o'clock we went back to camp weary and disgusted. As we had to be in the main camp that night, ready to start back home the next day, we loaded our pack-mule and were soon on the back trail. About half-past four we suddenly heard an elk whistle, not far to the left. We were going on a game-trail, through heavy timber, and I remarked to George, "This is our last chance." We quickly tied our animals and rushed in the direction of the call.

A few hundred yards brought us out on a little projection, and, cautiously looking over, we saw that the ground sloped up beyond through burned timber, and that there was a band of elk scattered around feeding. Adjusting my lens to the distance, which I judged to be one hundred yards, I made one exposure after another as rapidly as possible.

The bull was not in sight, but we could hear him crashing around through the thicker timber, and bellowing in anger at another elk in the distance.