A mighty hunter. The adventures of Charles L. Youngblood on the plains and mountains

Chapter X

Meanness Which Did Not Pay— Too Confident Hunters— Dangers of the Plains — Back to Missouri Once More 121

CHAPTER XL In the Lake District— A Gang of Badgers— A Good Harvest of Wolf -skins — Omahas — Jimmie's Fright —A Bad Blizzard— Frost-bitten 125

Introduction

The days of the lordly bison are numbered. Here and there, in the far Northwest, a solitary estray, which has thus far escaped its inevitable doom, is encountered by the red or the white hunter, but altogether there are scarcely enough left to yield one specimen to each of the zoological gardens of the country. It was not so, however, in the '60s, when the subject of this narrative migrated from his home in Indiana to the great plains. At that time, countless herds of buffalo shook the solid earth with their mighty trampling, and no one would have credited the tremendous slaughter that was to be accomplished in the next quarter of a century.

Let us, then, ere the bison passes into the

annals of mythology, and he that has seen a

buffalo is laughed at as a relater of fairy tales,

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record the adventures of a hunter of those powerful and formidable beasts.

Charles L. Youngblood was born in Anderson Township, Warrick County, Indiana, on the 9th of April, 1826. His father was a Methodist minister, a native of South Carolina, and his mother was a Virginian. The first forty years of Charles' life were devoted to farming, and during those years he learned, if not much from books, a vast deal from Nature. His education was of the most rudimentary sort, for it was not until years later that the modern pedagogue, with his globes, and his charts, and his thousand and one devices for teaching the young idea how to shoot, got abroad in the land. The Hoosier school-house of those days was a primitive log cabin, with a big open fireplace, wherein the great logs roared, and snapped, and sizzled during the three or four winter months which constituted the school session; and the presiding genius was a sort of bugaboo, whose rod backed the infallible authority of the blue-covered spelling-book,

INTRODUCTION.

and concealed only too often the scant limits of his own information. Country life, in those days, was generous, spontaneous, and free, and all men were neighbors on the principle of the golden rule, for occasions often rose when a friendly neighbor was about the handiest thing a man could have about him. It has been frequently noted that life in the country is far more sociable than that of a city, and the observation might be formulated in a general rule, that the farther apart the houses the closer together are the hearts. Innumerable occasions for social gatherings were known to our fathers which we, in these populous times, have never known. There were log-rollings, quiltingbees, wood-chopping matches, camp-meetings (real camp-meetings they were, too, and not the pretenses of to-day), corn-huskings, and affairs of that sort, which kept dwellers at a distance neighborly and familiar; and to the old settler who compares the selfish rush and scramble of our times with the friendly generosity of the days of his youth, it must

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appear that the world has lost something in becoming more thrifty and enlightened.

Perhaps it was a sense of the decay of primitive customs, coupled with an innate love for adventure, which caused the young farmer, whose historian we are, to weary of his Indiana home, and to follow, with longing eyes, the westward course of the nation's eager, pulsing life.

Some men are born to be pioneers; the conventionalities and tame monotony of civilized life are irksome to them, and in all places, except upon the frontiers, where life is a rough-and-tumble sport with the elements, they are dissatisfied and out of place. Youngblood was such an one, and in 1865 his longing for the free, open life of the backwoods became so strong and keen, that he cut abruptly loose from the ties of friends and kindred, and, with his wife and children, started out on the western trail, across Illinois and Missouri, and brought up in Kansas City, which, at that period, was nothing but a small frontier town, with a

INTRODUCTION.

convenient location upon the Kansas-Missouri State line. The pioneer had reached the frontier once more, and, thenceforward, he never turned back to, nor regretted, the civilization he had abandoned. Fortunately, for those who have done, and will do, the same, some men are " built that way."

Chapter II. Speculation — A Corner In Poultry — Bruin On Top, Etc

When Youngblood reached Kansas City, in 1865, the "boom" had not yet struck the town, and it was a small, uninviting, unpromising place. The new-comer had almost money enough in his pocket to buy it as it stood, and still have enough left to make some of the improvements which it sadly needed. In the light of later developments, he has been bitterly sorry that he did not. If the struggling town had looked more inviting, he might now be the landlord of about 200,000 tenants; but the miserable, squalid shanties of that day he had no use for, and later, when he wanted to buy, the owners were not in a trading humor. Accordingly, he lingered but a short time in the embryo metropolis of

2 (17)

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the Southwest, ere he pushed on into Kansas* But, in spite of his frontiersman -like tendencies, accustomed as he had grown to ten-acre fields with neat fences about them, the broad, open, treeless prairies seemed desolate indeed; so, in despair, the pioneer retraced his steps into Missouri, where he finally bought a farm near the center of the State, and remained there until 1870.

While living here, the "boom" came along, and, in its impetuous rush, struck Mr. Youngblood several severe blows. A railroad was surveyed through the section in which his farm was situated, and a town laid out — on paper. It was a " dead sure thing;" work was already begun on the railroad, and town lots were bound to command a premium as soon as the line reached the place. It was too good a chance to be missed, with millions sticking out of it at every corner; so Mr. Youngblood laid out several thousands of dollars in buying up a good part of the town from the misguided owners, who were sacrificing the land at about ten times

SPECULATION.

its real value. Soon afterward, history once more demonstrated its parrot-like ways of repetition, the projected railway fell through, and the man who was to have prospered by the now collapsed " boom," found it hard to unburden himself of his superfluous real estate, even at prices that amounted to a virtual giving of it away. The speculator had greater reason than ever to regret that he had not purchased Kansas City, but still more that he had bought a city which was " bound to grow."

Disheartened at this unlucky turn of the wheel, Mr. Youngblood once more pulled up stakes and again turned his face toward the setting sun, with a cargo consisting of about 200 bushels of dried fruit and a lot of butter. He passed through Denver, Golden City, Black Hawk City, and Central City to Nevada City, where he sold out his cargo and cast about for an anchorage.

Nevada City, at this time, was herself enjoying a "boom," a genuine uboom." The mining fever was at its height, and every-

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one was infected and drawn into the mad rush after wealth. The town was young and typically frontier. Everybody had something to do, and did it, and it was as impossible to escape the excitement as it would have been to get rich by sitting down and waiting for a ship to sail down the mountains. But while the larger proportion of the populace were seeking the elusive metals, others, with wise forethought, calculated that while " pay dirt5' might or might not be struck, it was certain that where people are congregated there will money be spent, and so they set themselves about securing that wealth that was not problematical. Among other odd industries practiced with this end in view, the novel scheme of poultryraising excited our new settler's curiosity. At the very first, it did not strike him as very much of a business, in fact, he considered it as about as close to nothing as an enterprise could come; but inquiry developed the fact that the poultry-rancher was not so devoid of understanding, after all. The

SPECULATION.

ranch was about five miles from the mines, where thousands of miners, with full-grown appetites, were at work, and in the immediate neighborhood were several immense boardinghouses, some of them patronized by as many as 1,500 boarders. In these great eatinghouses the poultry-raiser found a ready and profitable demand for the entire product of his ranch, and obtained from them, simply at the trouble of carrying the stuff away, table-scraps that reduced his feed-bill to absolutely nothing. He was getting at the time from 50 cents to $1.00 apiece for chickens, and about as much a dozen for eggs, of which

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he was selling some ninety dozens daily. He owned about 2,000 hens, and, having a monopoly of the business, with light labor and small expense, was making money hand over fist.

But Youngblood, after maturely considering the matter, decided that he did not come so far simply to open a hen-house, and looked further.

One day, as he was wandering through the town on the lookout for an opening, he passed a house before which a large crowd had collected.

" What's up? " he asked of a bystander.

uMan chawed up by a cinnamon b'ar," was the curt response.

Youngblood entered the house, and saw the poor unfortunate stretched on a lounge awaiting death. But he was an old hunter, and "game" to his last breath; and, seeing the stranger's interest, described the fight, while the death-dew was gathering on his brow.

It seemed that he had shot and badly wounded the bear, and was following its

SPECULATION.

trail through a rocky piece of underbrush, when suddenly he came face to face with the enraged brute. Before, in his surprise, he had time to raise his rifle, the bear sprang upon him and dashed him to the ground. They rolled together over and over among the rocks, until, in his frantic efforts to free himself, both the man's legs were broken. Realizing that further struggle would be useless, he resorted to strategy, and lay perfectly still, feigning death. The bear released his embrace, and, after eyeing and smelling him suspiciously for a few moments, turned and started slowly and heavily away. As soon as his antagonist had gone a few feet off, the man raised himself painfully on his hands and knees, and began to crawl away; but the slight noise he was forced to make attracted the bear's attention, and it sprang upon him again with redoubled fury, breaking one of his wrists. He again had recourse to the same strategy, and with more success this time, as he remained motionless until the animal was out of sight, and then began dragging

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himself homeward through the snow, which was about four inches deep.

A few moments after the encounter, his brother happening to pass that way, noticed the marks of the struggle, and, following the bloody trail in the snow, soon came up with the wounded bear, which turned fiercely upon him, eager for another fight. But a repeating rifle soon placed the brute hors de combat, and the victor turned back to find the other party to the fight. Following the trail for about half a mile, he finally came up with the wounded man, and his feelings can better be imagined than described on recognizing in the mutilated being his own brother. The poor fellow, with one wrist and both legs broken, had dragged himself that distance over the rocks and through the snow. He was carried to the nearest house, where Youngblood heard his story, and where he died, after lingering a few hours in mortal agony. His grief- stricken father made a vow over the dead body of his son, that he would have the bear skinned and

SPECULATION.

would sleep upon its hide as long as he lived.

This grim incident made a decided impression upon Youngblood, in fact, decided him to become a hunter, and an opportunity to begin his new vocation soon presented itself.

A few days later, at Golden City, he fell in with a party of hunters who were on the eve of starting on a big buffalo-hunt, and Youngblood seized with avidity upon the chance to have some sport, and, at the same time, make a little money; for buffalo-hunting, be it well understood, was a very profitable business, the cured meat being readily disposed of and the hides commanding good figures.

The hunters welcomed the new-comer to their ranks, and with great satisfaction he began his preparations.

But before the expedition started, a little mischance came very near putting our friend in the town jail instead of on the plains. In order to dry out his gun, he loaded it one day with a charge of powder and fired it at

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random through the front door of his dwelling. A moment afterward, he was surprised at the sight of a policeman, who ran across the street, and, taking him by the arm, said:

; 4 Come along with me, sir! That is against the law." At this, Youngblood quickly made up his mind that he was in a bad strait, and decided to try the effect of stupidity upon the guardian of the peace; so, assuming a look of innocent surprise, he said:

"Oh! you haven't, haven't you?" exclaimed the policeman. " Didn't you shoot into the public street?"

" Sho!" ejaculated Youngblood, " you ain't a goin' to take me up jest fer firin' off a load of powder fer fun, are you?"

" Yes, it's against the law, and you'll have to come along with me."

"I didn't know that," said Youngblood. " Ef I'd a knowed that, you bet I wouldn't ha' done it. Can't you let me off this time?"

While the policeman was considering the

SPECULATION.

matter, the town marshal, who had been aroused by the shooting, came up, and quickly recognizing in the prisoner a brother Mason, accepted his excuse, and, advising him to be more careful in the future, set him free. Thereafter, when he wished to dry out his gun, he used a swab.

Chapter III

OUT FOR A HUNT — A MISSING OVERCOAT — YOUNGBLOOD' S FIRST BUFFALO — INDIANS ON THE TRAMP — OLD POISON-SLINGER, ETC.

The preparations for his first expedition as a hunter were soon made, and, in company with three other men, all accomplished scouts, Youngblood set out from Golden City on an eighty-mile tramp after buffalo. The first game they struck was a herd of antelope, of which they succeeded in bagging one. After this little triumph, they pressed on for about a mile farther, when they stumbled upon a dug-out, where they resolved to pass the night. After some parley, they proposed to the owner of the primitive dwelling that they pay for their accommodations with antelope-meat, which bargain was struck then and there.

Congratulating themselves upon the " dicker," they slept soundly that night, but

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by the next morning their enterprising landlord had changed his mind and demanded $5.00 for his hospitality. This seemed very mean; but the money was finally paid, not, however, without value received. Their host had entertained them the night before by displaying a new overcoat, which he had just bought for $14.00. He never enjoyed the luxurious warmth of that coat, for when his guests bade him farewell, it somehow managed to keep them company. It was a good trade— $5.00 for a $14.00 overcoat, and they all got the worth of their money, for, being a community purchase, they wore the garment turn and turn about.

Pushing forward, without any qualms of conscience, they reached a spot that promised good hunting. They were confident, from various signs well known to Youngblood's companions, that there was game in the vicinity, but were at a loss how to get at it, as there was no timber at hand in which to conceal themselves. It was a wide, treeless stretch of prairie, and the buffalo would

OUT FOE A HUNT.

have seen them miles away. However, they determined to go into camp. Youngblood was wild to catch his first glimpse of the big game; so, leaving his companions to make the preparations for camping, he stole away by himself, struck off from the road, and

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after a walk of several miles, his hopes were realized by the sight of a large herd of bison. His heart beat high with excitement, but he kept at a respectful distance from them for two reasons: first, because, being a novice, he was somewhat frightened by the great, shaggy, heaving mass of horned life, and, second, because he feared that he in his turn might alarm them. However, keeping himself carefully concealed, he crept gradually closer, and when within about 500 yards, aimed at the herd and fired. It was something like the traditional shot at the barn-door, but it scored, and he enjoyed the supreme satisfaction of seeing his first buffalo go down. He was so elated with the success of this, his virgin effort, that, though he might easily have dropped a dozen, he contented himself with self-congratulation, and hurried back as fast as his legs could carry him to receive the congratulations of his friends.

The entire party then turned out to bring the trophy into camp.

OUT FOR A HUNT.

But Youngblood's adventures for the day were not yet at an end; for, on their way to the place where the slain monster lay, a huge bull was spied, heading almost directly for the party. " What man has done, man can do," reasoned the doughty nimrod, and he begged his companions to allow him to try his hand alone at this monarch of the prairie. Their consent somewhat reluctantly obtained, he moved a short distance to one side, and lay down directly in the path of the approaching animal. On came the unwieldy brute, and when the bloodshot whites of his eyes were visible, a somewhat close range, the concealed hunter fired. A tuft of wool flew from the bison's back, but he charged straight on in an unswerving line. In a flash, another cartridge was inserted, and again Youngblood fired. But it had no apparent effect on the bull, except to irritate him, and to show him the enemy that had stung him. He had not paid much attention to the first shot, but the second he evidently regarded as an insult, and, lowering his

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head, came thundering right upon the now thoroughly frightened hunter, who began to think that hunting the buffalo was not such fun, after all, and to wonder whether the beast, when infuriated, attacks with its hoofs, its horns, or its teeth, or with all three, when, to his infinite relief, the animal dropped dead in its tracks, within a few yards of him.

For the next few hours, Youngblood fancied that he could teach the rest all about the business, and when, a short time after, he sighted a herd about a mile distant, he started off to put his theories into practice.

He got within range and fired, killing one, when immediately the entire herd gathered about it, bellowing and tossing their heads in consternation. Here was his chance, and he kept blazing away until he had dispatched eight and driven the rest of the herd away.

That settled it, and he regarded himself as a whole "Wild West Combination" — Indians and cow-boys included.

OUT FOR A HUNT.

The carcasses were quickly dressed, and the party started on their return to camp. They had retraced their steps but a short distance, when they perceived a large band of Indians approaching. It was an anxious moment, and caused them not a little trepidation until they discovered that the red brothers were not on the war-path. The band numbered about 1,500, and they had a permit from the Government to hunt for thirty days. It was a strange and novel sight to the man fresh from civilization, and he watched the procession curiously as it filed past. First came the warriors on their ponies, and after them a straggling line of squaws and luggage. The pappooses were lashed on the backs of ponies, which were turned loose and driven like a herd of cows. After the manner of the noble "Lo," all the work was left to the squaws, who drove the laden pack-horses, and looked after the luggage and pappooses, while the chivalrous warriors rode at their ease on ahead.

The weather was piercing cold, and the

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driving snow pelted the unprotected faces of the pappooses, but they were toughened, and took it as a matter of course, laughing and crowing with delight, while their small eyes glittered like black beads. Some of the youngest of them were carried in a sort of pocket, made by slinging a blanket between two poles, to one end of which a horse was harnessed as to a pair of shafts, while the other end dragged upon the ground. It made a primitive but efficient perambulator, and the babies appeared to enjoy it. As the long procession tiled past, one of the ponies shied violently at the strangers, made a dash and jumped across a narrow gulch, causing some excitement, and slinging out the little fellows it carried, like young birds tipped out of a nest. Youngblood's acquaintance with Indians and Indian characteristics was afterward considerable, but this was the only time he ever knew an Indian, young or old, to shed tears.

The slain bison were safely brought into camp, but buffalo-meat, at this time, was a

OUT FOR A HUNT.

drug in the market, and it did not pay to save it, so for the remainder of the expedition Youngblood and his companions went hunting simply for the sake of the hides. They were very successful, and in a few days they had killed over 100, all of which they carefully skinned, leaving the carcasses to rot upon the plains.

While out on this, his first hunt, our friend met with a decidedly painful accident. As he was pushing his way into camp after a long tramp across the prairie, he saw three buffalo lying down. He had only five cartridges left; so, to make sure of them, he slipped up as close as he could, and then fired, killing two and mortally wounding the other. His last cartridge, with which he meant to put an end to the injured survivor, failed to fire, and as he was attempting to pick it out, it exploded, frightfully mangling his hand. This accident prevented all hunting for nearly two weeks, and came very near being the cause of a still greater misfortune.

While his hand was still too sore to handle a gun, he had wandered out by himself, and, at some distance from the camp, was strolling leisurely along a branch, when, attracted by an unusual rustling sound, he happened to look up, and over the top of a ridge, only a few yards away, he saw the "tips "'of several Indians, as they passed in single file on the other side. Unarmed as he was, his heart was in his mouth, for he recognized them as belonging to a hostile tribe. With great presence of mind, and as noiselessly as possible, he threw himself flat on his face, and, with great good luck, the Indians passed without observing him, for, if he had attracted their attention, they would certainly have made short work of him. This was a lesson to him, and in the future he never went far from the camp without his trusty "old poison-slinger," which was the picturesque name given his gun by his companions.

" Old poison-slinger " was a Sharp's rifle, 50-caliber, made ^to load and shoot eight times a minute, and capable of throwing a ball to kill at a distance of five miles.

OUT FOR A HUNT.

Youngblood often killed with it buffalo which were a mile away, and made such long shots with it that, after firing, he had plenty of time to raise his head and mark the ball as it struck its goal.

Not long after the accident to Youngblood' s hand, two of the hunters decided that they had had enough of it, and returned home; but by this time our hero had become enthusiastic in regard to the sport, and he managed to persuade the third man to remain awhile longer. This man was a most excellent shot, and the two hit it off very well together.

On one occasion, when they were out shooting, about twenty miles back from their camp, close to a little stream, which bore the grewsome name of Cold Hell Creek, Youngblood's partner had a good chance to prove his ability as a shot, and by so doing, in all probability, saved his own life. Pie had killed several buffalo, and wounded one cow, which fell over on its side. The hunter advanced to kill, but before he had come very close to her, fortunately for him, she

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stumbled to her feet, and made a dash at him.

Now, a badly wounded buffalo becomes mad with desperation, and will rush upon its enemy with a headlong force, which nothing short of solid rock can resist, and, at such times, it is much safer for anything merely human to be as far out of its reach as possible. When her antagonist saw her thus unexpectedly active, he at once realized what she meant, and realized his danger. His coolness, however, did not desert him, but, dropping on one knee, and resting his rifle on the other, he awaited her onslaught until she was within about twelve feet of him, when he fired. The bullet struck her full in the jaw, stunning her, and she fell once more heavily to the ground. This time he took no risks, but, before she had time to recover, shot her through the heart.

A few days after this incident, the two hunters decided to pull up stakes, and try their luck at a point about twenty miles east of Cold Hell Creek, on the bed of the Repub-

OUT FOR A HUNT.

lican River. The journey was accomplished satisfactorily, and here they remained and iiiS mm hunted for about a fortnight. For the first two or three days of their sojourn here, they were woefully disappointed, for not a buffalo, nor a sign of a buffalo, could they discover; but their recompense, in the end, was far

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beyond their most sanguine expectations. As they were riding along one morning, disheartened and discouraged at their ill-success, there suddenly burst upon their entranced view the most tremendous herd of the longed-for beasts that Youngblood had ever seen in his life, or, in his long and varied experience, ever saw again. It was impossible to form any conjecture of how far east or west the vast mass extended. On it came, like an enormous dark, whirling cloud, and with a mighty thunder of hoofs that shook the plain as if it had been riven by an earthquake, frightening the horses so that they became almost unmanageable, and electrifying both men to the highest pitch of excitement. All that day, and all that night, in a broad column, the great animals tramped by with a heavy, continual rumble, and an incessant bellowing. No thought of sleep came to the sportsmen, even if sleep had been possible in the midst of the uproar. One continual blaze of fire sprang from their guns, and when the herd had passed, the

OUT FOR A HUNT.

number of carcasses amounted to 103, which would have been even much larger if they had not paused occasionally to remove the skins of those they had already killed.

They returned to their camp, elated beyond all description, but full of wonderment as to what could be the cause of such a large herd passing at full gallop. Their curiosity was finally satisfied, for they found out some time afterward that trouble had broken out between the Cheyenne Indians and the Utes, and the Utes, being beaten and driven back, had set fire to the prairie to prevent pursuit. This conflagration in the high, thick grass had, in its spread, driven before it the buffalo, antelope, wolves, and other fourfooted denizens of the great plains.

With this magnificent result closed the first experience of the young emigrant from Hoosierdom in his new career, which he afterward pursued with constant delight to himself, and an ever-increasing prosperity to his pocket.

Chapter IV

BAD INDIANS — BUFFALO CHIPS — A FRIGHT- ENED HUNTER — NOT QUITE DEAD YET, ETC.

After the extraordinary prowess which Youngblood had exhibited, even in his novitiate, he felt, and justly, that he should no longer be reckoned as a " tenderfoot," but was entitled to take his position as a full-fledged hunter and scout. But thus early in his career he was condemned to meet with one rather serious drawback to the safe and successful pursuit of his vocation. One of the periodical Indian outbreaks occurred, and the Indians became so aggressive that hunters were compelled, for their own security, to go out in squads of from eight to a score, and even then their excursions were attended with considerable risk.