Rocky Mountain Boys

George Rathborne St.

Description

Experience the exhilarating pleasure of life in the great outdoors without leaving the comfort of home. In Rocky Mountain Boys: Camping in the Big Game Country, author St. George Rathborne spins a rip-roaring yarn about a group of intrepid youngsters who set out for a once-in-a-lifetime adventure -- and learn some vitally important life lessons along the way.

Sujets

• Children's

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 novembre 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775454571
• Langue: English

Extrait

ROCKY MOUNTAIN BOYS
OR, CAMPING IN THE BIG GAME COUNTRY
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ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE
 
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Rocky Mountain Boys Or, Camping in the Big Game Country First published in 1913 ISBN 978-1-77545-457-1 © 2011 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - Comrades of the Trail Chapter II - In Possession of the Dugout Chapter III - The First Good Luck Chapter IV - The Wolf Pack Chapter V - A First Taste of Venison Chapter VI - Felix Takes His Turn Chapter VII - Unavoidable Delay Chapter VIII - Plenty of Trouble Chapter IX - Adrift in the Snow Forest Chapter X - Turning the Tables Chapter XI - The Buck's Head Chapter XII - Burning Out a Honey Thief Chapter XIII - Hunting the Bighorn Chapter XIV - A Wakeful Night Chapter XV - Out for a Grizzly Chapter XVI - The Terror of the Rockies Chapter XVII - When Music was Played Out Chapter XVIII - A Hard Customer Chapter XIX - Breaking Camp—Conclusion
Chapter I - Comrades of the Trail
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"We must be pretty nearly there now, Tom, I take it!"
"I reckon we'll sight the dugout inside of half an hour or so, Felix; ifthe description, and the little chart old Sol Ten Eyck gave me, arecorrect."
"Well, I'll sure be glad when we arrive, because this pack is gettingheavier, it seems to me, every hour now. One thing certain, Chum Tom,we'll go out of this part of the country a heap lighter than we'recoming in; with all this good grub swallowed up after two monthsroughing it. Been three days on the trail now, since Frazer turned usloose out of his big bull-boat."
They were two pretty well-grown boys, the one tall and slender; whilethe other, whom he called Tom, seemed stockily built, with the ruddy hueof perfect health on his sun and wind tanned cheeks.
Tom was really Tom Tucker, and the taller young hunter, Felix Edmondson.Besides repeating rifles of a modern make, and such ordinaryaccompaniments as ditty bags and hunting knives, the lads were carryingheavy packs on their backs, to each of which were also strapped a pairof snow-shoes, proving that they anticipated staying around thefoothills of the great Rocky Mountains, for some time at least, and wereprepared for getting around when several feet of snow covered theground.
They were in a region not a great distance from the border of thatWonderland which Uncle Sam has transferred into a grand playground,known far and wide as the Yellowstone Park. In fact, a range of theRocky Mountains towered almost above them as they looked up, standingout against the blue afternoon sky like a rock-ribbed barrier.
Around them lay the great forest that in many places grows at the baseof the giant uplifts that are well called the back-bone of thecontinent. It was a wild region, seldom pressed by the foot of man; savewhen some Indian or trapper chose to pursue his calling—the "primevalwilderness," Felix was fond of calling it, in his humorous way.
Felix was a city-bred boy who had ambitions to take up his father'sprofession later in life, and shine as a surgeon. But not being verystrong, it was under this parent's wise advice that he was now knockingoff for a year from his studies, and getting in the great Outdoors allhe possibly could, in order to build himself up, so as to have a goodfoundation for the hard work that lay before him.
And he was succeeding wonderfully, since there is nothing better underthe sun to change a weakly boy into a sturdy man than this free life ofthe Wild West. If proof of this statement were needed, it could bedemonstrated in the life of Theodore Roosevelt himself, who took thesame course of treatment.
As for Tom Tucker, he had always lived pretty much in the open eversince his father bought that Wyoming cattle range with its herds.Between times Tom had attended school, so that he was far from beingignorant; the fact of his great love of reading also put him in touchwith what was going on in the world, whether in the line of scientificdiscoveries, exploration, or the constant change in the map of nations.
The two lads were really cousins, and it was while Felix was paying along promised lengthy visit to the home of the other that this trip tothe foothills of the Rockies was discussed and decided on.
Just at present the one great ambition in the life of the city lad wasto bag a genuine grizzly bear. He had done considerable hunting ofsmaller game, having spent two seasons in the woods, one up in Maine,and the other in Canada. While he had more than one deer to his credit,besides wildcats, and even a wolf, Felix had conceived a desire to comeface to face with the most dreaded wild animal of the American wilds,the grizzly.
So they had organized this expedition, being taken in a bull-boat as faron the way as was possible; and after that manfully shouldering theirheavy packs. Under such conditions they did not cover many miles a day,which accounted for their being so long on the road.
But as Tom Tucker had said, they were now pretty near the end of theirtrail, and he fervently hoped that ere darkness descended they wouldhave reached the goal of all their ambitious progress.
An old trapper with whom Tom had spent part of a season in another partof the big game country, had a dugout up here, in which he used tohibernate winter after winter, sometimes with a tried and truecompanion, often absolutely alone; content to live his simple life underthe shadow of the mighty Rockies, and take his toll of the fur-bearinganimals that frequented this favored region.
Tom had a rude map of the country, as well as directions, how to findthe dugout when he got there. And here the two boys anticipated puttingin about two months of the late fall and early winter, doing a littletrapping, just for fun, and considerable hunting besides.
Naturally they expected having a glorious time, as what boy, with a lovefor the woods and the chase, would not?
The leaves had long since turned a russet brown, and any day now theymight expect the first snow of the season to fall. It was a time whenthe bracing air was filled with a tonic which Felix needed more thananything else in the wide world; and as his lungs filled with itslife-giving qualities, the boy from the Far East was never tired oftelling how different he was feeling from the conditions of a few monthsback.
As they struggled onward, hoping at almost any minute now to sight theirgoal, the two boys exchanged remarks concerning the matters that werenaturally uppermost in their minds.
"You said that Old Sol hadn't been up here for several seasons now,didn't you, Tom?" the taller lad was asking.
"Why, yes," the other replied, "you see, the old fellow isn't as strongas he used to be, and does his hunting nearer his sister's home. Factis, she won't let him come up here any more; and there are a lot ofyoungsters in her family, too, that Sol has become interested in. Sohe's satisfied to keep around there, if only they let him take a weeknow and then in the woods, with a comrade. That's how I came to knowhim, and often we spent some mighty fine days together. He taught meabout all I know of trapping, and lots besides about the habits of biggame animals. I'm itching to make use of some of the things that Old Solhanded down to me."
"And the traps he said he had catched up here, do you reckon, now,they'll be in decent condition, or rusted all to pieces?" Felixcontinued.
"Well," Tom observed, "he said he had rubbed them all over with bear'sgrease, and rolled them up in a leather cover, before he hid them away;so he expected they'd keep in fair shape many years. We'll have to takeour chances on that. It wasn't the hope of making anything at trappingthat fetched us away up here, you know. That's only a little side issue,you might say, just to see if we've learned anything about the game."
"One thing sure, Tom, this region doesn't seem to be overrun withsettlers, seeing that we haven't met a solitary soul these three days;while game seems fairly plentiful, because we sighted seven black-taileddeer on the way, and had a peep at some bighorn sheep yesterday away upon the mountain."
"I've seen no sign of any one around but they told us below that once ina while some Indian was known to be in this part of the country, doinghis winter's trapping. And you remember, they said that if we happenedto run across an old Shoshone chief, who now goes by the name of CharleyCrow, and who sometimes acts as guide for Eastern sportsmen, we ought tocultivate his acquaintance, because he has the reputation of being thestraightest redskin in the whole State of Wyoming."
"I remember that they said he was really a halfbreed," remarked Felix;"but his wife is a full blood. Perhaps we may happen to run across theold fellow while we're up here. I'd like to meet him, wouldn't you,Tom?"
"Well, I don't know," replied the other, with a shrug of his broadshoulders, on which the big pack seemed to rest so easily in comparisonwith the way that of Felix gave him trouble; "I must say, that so farI've never run across an Injun I'd care much to cultivate. They're notwhat they used to be. The white man's whisky has changed them terribly.In the old days they never worked, only hunted; and went to war; whilethe squaws did all the drudgery in camp. And now, as a rule, they arejust satisfied to loaf their lives away, fed by the bounty of the WhiteFather at Washington—gambling and drinking, and doing a little stealing,when everything else fails them."
"But on the reservations many of