Rustlings in the Rockies: hunting and fishing by mountain and stream

Front matter

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BUSTLINGS IN THE BOCKIES:

HUNTING AND FISHING

Chapter I. Rustlings In The Rockies

Clark's Fork — Mr. Allen — Frontier yarns — Rogers didn't want to be killed by a buffalo — "Why didn't you catch the bull by the tail ? " — Hiram Stewart's narrow escape — Twenty years in the mountains and never so near death 9

Chapter II. The Party Organized

Mike mashed — Sawyer and his pony play circus — Sawyer's wanderings in mid-air — Terra-firma at last — A chase after Sawyer's pony — Allen wants him to "buck some more" — The Cayuse submits to the argument of clubs— Sawyer declines the hurricane deck for the future — Supper on mountain trout 1 8

Chapter III. On The Way To Wyoming

Indian's question, " Shostida ? " — Huffman in camp — Agrees to join us — A fine doe ! but Huffman has my gun — A day on Bennett creek — Allen in luck — Huffman curses his Kennedy pea-slinger — Nothing but " woodchuck " — Universal dampness — The luck turns 26

Chapter IV. Meditations In A Wiciup

Philosophy in a tent — " Me t-r-r-rusty rifle" — Away from the ills of life — Elk-heart and hard tack for breakfast — The peroration of a donkey's bray — Wapiti winds his horn — The Monarch of the Rockies dies as a king should die 36

X CONTENTS.

Chapter V. A Perilous Experience

Three bears anxious for gore — The company rattled — We try the effect of noise and bluster — The grizzlys retire — Mike arouses the anger of an old she-bear — A race for life — Huffman and I to the rescue — Two out of three killed — A fine view of the Rockies — More sport — The camp broken up — We start for home. . 43

Chapter VI. In The Big Horn Mountains

Away to the mountains — The. Red River valley — A garden in the desert — From Bismarck to Glendive — The bad lands on the Little Missouri — " Hell with the fire out " — Four hundred and seventy-three bridges in two hundred and twenty-one miles — A drive up the Yellowstone — Butchers and buffaloes — A word of warning — Off to the Big Horn 50

Chapter VII. In The Yellowstone Valley

How I shot a duck — An August thunder-storm — Menu for an epicure— Rosebud River — An old battle ground — Lame Deer creek — Custer's last camping ground — Scaring a coyote — Dog-in-the-manger meanness of Crow Indians 57

Chapter VIII. At The Forks Of The Rosebud

Good luck with the grouse — Interviewed by a Crow scout — First sight of the Big Horn mountains — Three deer killed with four shots, "deuced clevah!" — Fanning the coyotes — All loaded forbear — Killed, but lost after all — Wet groceries for breakfast 65

Chapter IX. The Happy Hunting Ground

Huffman kills a grizzly — A night in wet blankets — A race for the axe — Grand sport — Hunting through the snow — Effectiveness of the explosive bullet 74

CONTENTS. XI

Chapter X. Through The Canyon Of The Little Big Horn

An adventure with Nig — The photographic outfit in peril — Huffman frantic — Nig lands the cargo safely — Huffman grumbles, I philosophize— A herd of mule deer — Growths of pine timber — Fine sport with a mountain buffalo — The ideal hunter's camp. 82

Chapter XI. A Grand Day's Sport

An exciting chase — A leap for life — All a man wants is " sand " — Over the mountain wall — The chase grows interesting — Another leap for life — I follow my leader — Run to cover at last — I drink to the memory of the departed — More sport — Old plantigrade and her cubs — Loaded for bear — The whole family killed — Home to camp 93

Chapter XII. A Busy Day

Scoring a miss — Huffman photographs a scene — Shakspeare in the mountains — A grizzly " rustling for chuck " — A race for life — Bruin falls — A severe attack of punning — Butter side down — A herd of elk — More sport 103

Chapter XIII. From Custer To Keough

In the Big Horn range — The Black Canyon — A perilous descent — Jack loaded for bear — Bear loaded for Jack — Huffman's trail — Scaling a mountain wall — Custer's grave — Up the Big Porcupine — Flagging the antelope — Antelopes as curious as women — No country like the Big Horn for sport 115

Chapter XIV. Ten Days In Montana

Montana a veritable wonderland — Sport from the baggage car — Alkali beds near Crystal Springs — " Why did your aunt elope?" — Resolved to kill a buffalo or get scalped — Judge Souther — In luck — In the Custer valley — "Young Man's Butte " — Custer's lookout ! — Prairie dogs — Bad lands — Too bad to be described. . .126

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Chapter XV. Life On The Plains

Courtesies of railroad and military officers — Living on the fat of the land — The cuisine of the Palmer House eclipsed — Sport that is sport — A pet fawn — A sight for Landseer — Lieutenant McCoy — Spike-tailed Republicans — A banquet in the wilderness — Buzzing a sentinel — A yarn of Indian scouts — ." Soldier heap damn lazy !" — Back to my virtuous couch. . . 136

Chapter XVI. After The Buffaloes

We start well equipped — Camp at Beaver creek — The antelope hard to kill - — Dr. Black " all broke up " — Takes his supper standing — Good morning's sport — A breakfast fit for the gods — Buffaloes at last — "Let them have it" — The buffaloes take a good deal of killing — Sharp's rifles 145

Chapter XVII. Two Hundred Thousand Buffaloes

Small herds of buffaloes — The great herd — An early morning hunt — " Old reliable " — Charges a buffalo — My first buffalo lies dead at my feet — Back to camp — Corporal Brown counsels caution — Startled by white men — My buffalo weighs fourteen hundred pounds . . 153

Chapter XVIII. Through An Extinct Hell !

Another herd of buffaloes — An unusual experience — A grand leap for life — Pursuing the herd — Back through the bad lands — Black-tail deer — Still after the buffaloes — Defeated —More sport — Close quarters — The bison yields — The hunt is up. . 161

Chapter XIX. The Gulf Coast Of Florida

Jacksonville — A city of orange groves — On board the "Pastime" — Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe's winter home — Hibernia — Magnolia— Palatka — " There's an alligator " — Fine sport — Lake George — Manhattan — William Astor's orange grove — An alligator thirty feet long — Dr. Spalding's trout — St. Augustine, the oldest city in the United States 171

CONTENTS. Xlll

Chapter XX. The Gulf Of Mexico

Off for Sarasota Bay — A royal kingfish landed on deck — A white cloth bait — A heron rookery — Mr. Moore a real deer-slayer — Varieties of fish — Tampa — Dr. J. P. Wall — Five hundred and fifty acres of orange trees — A grand chance for settlers — 8,000,000 oranges a year — Grand resort for invalids 182

Chapter XXI. Snead's Island

Great schools of mullet — Solid acres of fish — Snead's Island a grand fishery — "There's millions in it" — We "smole" audibly — On board the " Skylark " — The mangrove — Mr. Webb — A paradise for botanists — Century plants in bloom — Fishing — Mackerel sixteen inches long, weighing three pounds. . . .190

Chapter XXII. On Board The "sky-lark."

"Shall Auld Acquaintance be Forget?" — Capt. O. C. Squyer— Sea trout — Thirsting for the blood of a "'gator" — Our desire thoroughly satisfied — We begin to hanker after shark — Sharks and sand-flies — A Jew-fish caught weighing one hundred and fifty-three pounds — Preparing for a fire-hunt — My first fire-hunt. . . 200

Chapter XXIII. Deer-stalking And Fire-fishing

The mule element strong in me — "Walking by faith, not by sight " — In search of alligators — A fight between an eagle and a fish-hawk — A two-year-old doe starts from the thicket — I fire, Rover starts on the chase — I carry home my prize — Fire - fishing — Sheepshead — Needle-fish mullet — A hundred pounds of fish in three hours — We catch an inquisitive shark 210

Chapter XXIV. Four Days On The Myakka River

The camping ground of Coughpennslough — The " Palmeeter cabbage"— The sportman's paradise — I become pious — Satan to the front — A mossy bed — Ta-whoo-oo-oo-ah — "Gobble, gobble, gobble" — The woods alive with squirrels — The bounding buck — A flock of turkeys — Roseate spoonbills — The sad words " good-bye." 219

XIV CONTENTS.

Chapter XXV. Words Of Advice To Tourists To Florida

Expenses of a trip — Must call at St. Augustine — Bring your gun and rifle — Provide plenty of ammunition — Don't forget shark tackle — Take a small tent — A light rubber coat and a heavy blanket — The only foot-gear needed is a pair of cowhide shoes — Take also some simple medicines — Quinine — Calomel — The expenses of the journey small 234

Chapter XXVI. Recollections Of Boyhood

Back to the old home — The Barrett boys — The old schoolhouse — Hail, gentle robin — The old fence corner — The churchyard — The snow-ball conflicts 242

Chapter XXVII. The Days Of Long Ago

My dog and I — Ring and the hogs — Woodchuck hunting — Old Ring ! "Though lost to sight to memory dear" — All is changed — Old memories crowd upon me — The old landmarks gone ! — The old spring — There is a time for tears 252

Chapter XXVIII. Trouting On The Namecagon

Mr. T. S. Powers a typical sportsman — The village of Cable— Out in

the stream — Multitudes of trout — Mosquito creek 261

Chapter XXIX. Pike And Bass Fishing On Long Lake

An afternoon's catch, 180 pounds of fish! — Leroy and the pollywogs top the Narrows — Hunting a loon — "You've got a whale, sure" — An enormous pickerel — Three days' catch, 620 pounds — Home again 267

Chapter XXX. The Lake Superior Region

From Marquette to Duluth — A mild winter — A crowd in " Mackinaw flannel" — The lumber interests — Fisheries — Brook trout — Ducks and geese in season — Little hunting — Trout lake — A charming location for sportsmen. . , 275

CONTENTS. XV

Chapter XXXI. Autumn Ramblings In Northern Michigan

Among the Wolverines — Off to the Twin lakes — My " hunter's pet " — Through the pine forests — One shot and one miss — A pack of wolves — Hiding-places of the bear — A shot at a deer — On board the "Northern Belle." 284

Chapter XXXII. The Island Of Mackinac

The Straits of Mackinac — The perfect transparency of the water — Purity of the atmosphere — Antidote for hay fever — Fort Mackinac— The Astor house — The enchanting isle — Souvenirs — The captain's dream — Pelican lake — An aqua incognita — The home of the mighty muscalonge 295

Chapter XXXIII. A Narrow Escape

Enchanting scenery — A sudden shot — I fall asleep — An awful awakening — Hand-to-hand fight with a grizzly — "Hold the fort" — A swarm of mosquitoes — A terrific slaughter. . . .301

• ILLUSTRATIONS.

OUR CAMP IN THE FOOT-HILLS (Frontispiece]

HE DIDN'T WANT TO BE KILLED BY A BUFFALO 13

SAVED BY A LUCKY SHOT 16

A DECIDED MASH 19

ON THE HOME-STRETCH 22

A DAY ON BENNETT CREEK 29

" THIS is How WE GOT 'EM " 33

THE MONARCH OF THE ROCKIES 41

UNITED IN DEATH 46

HUFFMAN'S PRIZE 78

THE RAGE OF HUFFMAN AND THE CALMNESS. OF " NIC;" 83

AFTER THE RACE f 90

THE DEAD GRIZZLY 107

BUTTER SIDE DOWN 109

SKINNING THE ELK 113

JACK LOADED FOR BEAR 117

BEAR LOADED FOR JACK .....' 119

FLAGGING AN ANTELOPE.. 123

THE ROUND UP , 1 24

RUSTLINGS IN THE ROCKIES.

Chapter I. Rustlings In The Rockies

CLARK'S FORK — MR. ALLEN — FRONTIER YARNS — ROGERS DIDN'T WANT TO BE KILLED IJY A BUFFALO— " WHY DIDN'T YOU CATCH THE BULL BY THE TAIL?" — HIRAM STEWART'S NARROW ESCAPE — TWENTY YEARS IN THE MOUNTAINS AND NEVER SO NEAR DEATH.

AFTER a pleasant journey of eighteen hours over the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul railroad from Milwaukee to St. Paul, and another of forty-eight hours over the Northern Pacific from St. Paul, we arrived on the first day of September at the famous town of Billings, Montana, at that time the temporary terminus of the Northern Pacific road, I at once sought the quarters of my old friend Major Bell, of the yth Cavalry, who was camped near the station, but was sadly disappointed to learn that he was under orders to go to Bozeman in a few days, and could not therefore join me in a hunt. He had given four of his men permission, however, to start the next morning for a five days' hunt in the Pryors Mountain country, thirty-five miles distant, and kindly offered me a mount if I desired to go with them ; but as this would not be as long a trip as I wanted to make, I decided to decline his offer and go with some friends who had gone out with me. On the following day, therefore, I met them in Coulson, two miles from Billings, and we arranged for a three weeks' trip

into the mountains toward the head of Clark's Fork.

During the time of making preparations for our start we were entertained in a most enjoyable manner by Mr. William Allen and his accomplished wife.

Mr. Allen is a capital story teller and a fine actor. He is an old timer on the frontier, and in his varied experience has passed through some strange adventures. He gave us some choice selections from these the first evening we were there, which, if they could be reproduced here with all his actions, gestures and points, would furnish fun tor the readers of this book for a year to come. I will repeat one or two of them as nearly in substance as possible, but they will lack the unction and action with which he delivered them.

Some years ago, when living on his ranch ten miles above Coulson, he was subpoenaed to serve on the grand jury which was to meet at Miles City. A neighbor named Wm. Rogers, hearing that he was going to Miles, called on him and requested permission to go with him. Mr. Allen gladly accepted his company, and it was arranged that they should start early the next morning, and go down the river in a skiff. When they got all their traps on board it was discovered that neither of them had provided a gun, Mr. A.'s gun being out of order and Mr. R. having lately sold his. They talked the matter over, and it looked like a risky piece of business to start on a voyage like this of a hundred and fifty miles down the Yellowstone river, through a country where they were liable to be jumped by hostile reds, without a gun in the boat. Besides, there was plenty of game along the river, and it would be extremely provoking not to be able to shoot any of it, even though it should walk over them. But what should be done? Neither of them had a firearm of any kind, not even a revolver, that was serviceable, and it would be difficult to borrow one for so long a time, so they decided to do the only thing to be done under the circumstances — go unarmed.

Now this Rogers is a great " blow/' and is always boasting what he would do and how valiantly he would fight if corralled by Indians ; how he would stand his ground and shoot any bear to death that ever roamed the mountains, ' before he would run ; how he would not be afraid to ride into a herd of buffaloes anywhere on the plains and slaughter dozens of them, and would not be afraid of getting eaten up by them either, and all that sort of stuff.

On their cruise down the river, Rogers regaled Allen with accounts of how he would grapple with any Indian, or other wild animal, that should dare to molest them, single handed, and kill or put them to rout. Yes, he was a valiant son of Mars ! Well, it happened on the second day of their voyage, as they were floating quietly along, they saw several old buffalo bulls moving down a trail that led down the side of a steep bluff, and ordinarily between the bluff and the water's edge, to a point farther up the stream where it led out again. But at this time the water was high and the trail at the foot of the bluff ^was submerged. The bulls didn't discover this fact until they got to the water, and then they were on a part of the trail that was so narrow, and the bluff, both above and below them was so precipitous, that they could not turn around, leaving them no alternative but to plunge into the river and swim out.

By this time Allen and his valiant co-voyageur were alongside of the bulls. Allen had the oars. " Now," said Rogers, "when they jump into the water you run the boat right in amongst them, and I'll catch one of them by the tail, pull him down stream until we drown him, and we'll have some fresh meat, and be darned to the guns."

"All right!" replied Allen; "they've jumped into the, water, and by the great Sault Ste Marie the water is over their backs. They're swimming already. Look ! they are making for the other shore, and are going to cross right in front of us. " Well, here goes for a big bull. Now Rogers, grab a tail."

And with two or three powerful strokes of the oars he shot the skiff right in amongst the terrified beasts who were making the angry flood boil all around them in their frantic efforts to get away. But when Rogers, this mighty hunter, this stalwart slayer of grizzlies, this terror of Canyon Creek, this red-handed Indian slayer, came to face the music, he weakened ; he turned pale, and his knees knocked together.

"Get out of here, quick! " he cried in terror; I don't want to catch one of them old cusses, he'll jump right plum into the boat if I do, and drownd us."

"Oh, no, he won't!" shouted Allen. "Grab one quick. What's the mater with you? "

"Get out of here, quick, I say," pleaded the terrorstricken terror of Canyon Creek.

"Well here," replied Allen, "you take the oars then, and ril catch one."

"No, I won't," answered Rogers. "Pull out of here quick, for God's sake. I don't want to be killed by a cussed old buffalo bull." And so there was no recourse for Allen but to pull out, and leave the bulls to pursue their way in peace.

" Well," remarked Rogers, after they had gone some distance down the river, and he had recovered his breath, " did you ever see such frightful lookin' critters in your life as them bulls was? Why, they was just a puffen' and a snorten* like an old steamboat, and their nostrils was jest as red inside as two coals of fire, and their eyes was as big as a tin cup, and they looked like they had just been varnished. And their tails stuck up and spread out till they looked just like parasols. As sure as you live, Allen, if we'd ever 'a ketched one of them bulls by the tail, he'd 'a jumped right into the boat and killed us both."

Allen has never got through laughing over that adventure yet, and to this day whenever Rogers goes to blowing about what he would do under certain circumstances, somebody asks him, " Well, why didn't you catch the buffalo bulls by the tail ? and then he collapses, and has nothing more to say to that crowd.

On another occasion Allen told us he was out hunting with old Hiram Stewart, a noted hunter and trapper, who had spent more than half his life in the mountains, and had killed more bears and other large animals probably than he had hairs on his head. It was in May. As they were crossing a coulee one day, in which the brush grew thick, and in which there remained some patches of old snow, they saw where the ground had been disturbed. Passing along, they saw a hole in one of the snowdrifts, which looked as if some one had set down a coffee sack full of rocks. But there was a row of such holes, and on further examination they were forced to conclude that they had discovered a bear track, and the largest one, they both agreed, that they had ever seen. They followed the trail to where it led into a dense jungle of box elder, water beech, rose bushes, etc., at the head of the coulee.

They walked around this, and seeing no trail leading out ' of it, concluded the bear must be in there. They threw rocks and clubs into the ticket to start him out, but he would not start. Then Allen got down on his hands and knees, and pushing his gun ahead of him, crawled in. He could not see any bear, but after he got in about twenty feet he heard such an unearthly growl as convinced him at once that the outside air would be healthier for him, and slid out backward, much faster than he went in. Then old Hi. said he would go in. Allen told him he had better not, but he would not listen to caution and crawled in. He had not gone far when he met the old leviathan coming out, and raising his rifle, took a hasty aim and fired. This ball entered the bear's breast and knocked him down, but Hi. saw at once that he was not dead, and attempted to throw the shell out of his rifle. But an accident to a gun almost invariably happens just at the most critical moment. Or, if a fellow ever pulls the wrong trigger, it is sure to be when the fine shot are in that barrel, and the buckshot in the other, and the deer gets away again. Joe's shell stuck in the chamber of his rifle, and refused to budge. He knew he had no time to fool away in swearing at his bad luck, so he slid out just as fast as the nature of the ground would permit, but before he got out the bear had recovered from the effects of the shot sufficiently to get up and start after him. Hi. wore an old buckskin suit that had been in the service for years, and that was so stiff from having been daubed with blood, grease, molasses and other animal and vegetable matter that he could take it off and lean it up against a tree, and it would stand there until he wanted it again, just the same as if he were in it. He was sadly handicapped in this race by a game leg that was about two inches shorter than the other, and when he got out of the thicket there was not a tree in reach large enough to climb, so he started up the hill side with the bear at his heels, growling and roaring at every jump, and Hi. yelling " Murder, save me, shoot him, kill him quick."

Allen said the spectacle was so ridiculous that had it been his. own funeral instead o£ Hi's, that was coming off so soon, he must have laughed all the same. Notwithstanding Hi's old coat was as stiff as a shingle, it stood -out behind until you could have played billards on it, if the bear hadn't been in your way. At every jump Hi. made he would careen over toward the side his game leg was on, just as a chair goes over when one leg falls out of it. Finally Allen braced up so that he could shoot, and turned his Winchester loose on the grizzly. The first shot caught him behind the shoulder, and the second in the neck, but he paid no attention to them more than to stop and scratch the spot with his paw, and then go on after Hiram. But the third shot, fortunately, caught him at the butt of the ear, and dropped him in his tracks.

By this time Hi. had reached the ledge of rocks that he had started for at first, and which he thought would save him. He had just grasped a thin shelf that stuck out, to pull himself p by, but it broke off, and let him fall to the ground just as the bear dropped, and in his death struggle he caught Joe with*one of his hind feet and threw him more than twenty eet down the hill. Joe gathered himself up, rubbed the mud off his face and hands, felt of arms and legs to see that they were all whole, looked at the great monster, which now lay dead, and as soon as he could recover his breath enough to speak, said, as he shook with terror from head to foot : " Great God, twenty-five years in the mountains, and I never cum as near gettin' killed as that."

He laid down on the ground, and it was more than an hour before he was able to walk. Allen said his face was as white as the snow in the coulee, excepting the space around his eyes, and that was yellow. Poor old Hiram never recovered from this terrible shock, and died a year afterward. Several who knew him claim that the scare was the direct cause 01" the sickness that ended his life. He was a mental and physical wreck from that time to the day of his death. Allen took from the bear one hundred and eighty-seven pounds of oil, and his skin when stretched and staked out on the ground measured over nine feet wide by ten and a half in length. 2

Chapter II. The Party Organized

MIKE MASHED — SAWYER AND HIS PONY PLAY CIRCUS — SAWYER'S WANDERINGS IN MID-AIR — TERRA-FIRMA AT LAST — A CHASE AFTER

SAWYER'S PONY — ALLEN WANTS HIM TO " BUCK SOME MORE " — THE CAYUSE SUBMITS TO THE ARGUMENT OF CLUBS — SAWYER DECLINES THE HURRICANE DECK FOR THE FUTURE — SUPPER ON MOUNTAIN TROUT.

WE completed our arrangements for the hunt, and starting from Billings on Sunday evening, September 3, rode to Ed Forest's ranch at Canyon creek, ten miles west of Billings, and camped for the night. 'Our party as now organized, consisted of Mr. Allen and his son Willie, of Coulson ; R. J. Sawyer and M. Weise, of Menominee, Michigan ; "Doctor" J. W. Trinler, of Coulson, our teamster, the most worthless, unmitigated vagabond that ever any hunting party was afflicted with,- and " the undersigned." Mr. Allen was mounted on a bay complexioned cayuse that had blood in his eye, as we shall presently see. I had procured a tough, good-natured, ambitious little black pony, and the other members of the party were mounted on — the wagon.

After an hour's ride Allen offered to change seats with either of the boys in the wagon. Weise eagerly accepted the offer, and mounted the bay pony, which made no objection at the time, but a close observer might have seen by his eye that he was only awaiting an opportunity to take the conceit out of that pilgrim ; and the opportunity came too soon. When we reached the little settlement of Canyon Creek it was dark, and a light burning in a tent at the roadside attracted the attention of the cayuse. He turned square across the road and stopped to look at it. Before Mike could induce him to move on the wagon came up, and the tongue struck him with a solid shoot squarely amidships. At this he concluded to break camp and move at once. Stiff-legged bucking set in. He waltzed, polkaed, bucked and shook Mike's frame almost to pieces. Finally he missed his footing and fell. He rolled all over Mike, and when he had mashed and churned him to his heart's content, got up, shook himself, and was ready to be mounted again.

None of us were in love with our teamster or his team from the first, but it was the only outfit we could get in town. We hoped, however, that when we reached Ed Forest's ranch we should be able to get him to furnish a team and take us out, and turn "Doc" back; but, unfortunately, Forest's horses were out on the range, and had strayed away so far that he had been unable to find them after a hard day's ride. So we were compelled, much against our wishes, to take up our march the next day with the same three plugs (" Doe:" and his two horses) that we had started with.

On Monday morning we drove up the Yellowstone five miles, forded it, and proceeded up Clark's Fork river to the mouth of Rock creek, where we had expected to find good hunting, but we met an old Crow Indian, who told us that several lodges of his tribe were camped on Rock creek, and had been for many "sleeps"; so we knew we should find no game there, and must keep on up Clark's Fork. We camped on Rock creek that night, and in the morning held a council of war. We had noticed all the previous afternoon that one of "Doc's" plugs was very weak, and we had serious doubts about his being able to stand a long drive. If we had found game on Rock creek, and he could have grazed there two or three days while we were hunting, he would have gathered strength from the .good feed there — so much better than he had been used to at home — so that he could have stood the rest of the trip all right ; but now that we must push on for four or five days up to the mountains before finding game in 'paying quantities, we felt sure that plug at least would never be able to make it, and we decided to turn back to Forest's ranch, hoping that by the time we should reach there Ed would have found his horses and would be prepared to take us out.