Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-06-21
FRONTIER JIM.

lowStOne, where the river polls and tears nlong through a narrow gorge hemmed in on either side by lofty basaltic walls, lives strange character named 'Frontier Jim" Jim Ferguson is his true 5irthright, but so long is it since the old fellow has heard his true baptismal title uttered by human lips that he has almost forgotten it himself. This old mountaineer has lived for many decades h the isolated spot he calls home, isolated until the railroad pushed it's way up the can yon and opened gateway into the great Yellowstone National park. And now that civilization has found him out still it is probable that Frontier Jim will live and die hermit among the crags and peaks that have been his companions for so many lng years.
 1 discovered Frontier Jim some seven or eight years ago; or, rather, l should have said that he discovered me. It was about the fall of 1880 that l chanced to be knocking about in that part of the United States, and while riding along through that sublime chasm of nature known es the Second can yon, happened to cast my eyes upward and was astonished and surprised to see perched high in the air on the rocky walls overhang- ing the deep abyss, a hunters rude cabin. l immediately dismounted and allowing cay use to wander at will, picking here and there at the soant but succulent herbage which cropped out between the rocks, I lay down on the grass plot near where the waters of the angry Yellowstone were boiling and fixed my eyes on the house above me, won- dering what manner of mortal had located his abode in such a wild, lonesome spot. While gazing in thoughtful amazement at the structure was startled nearly out of my wits by the sound of & human voice almost in my ear, remarking ill good English:
 ''Purty high up, aint it, stranger"
 sprung to my feet and cast an anxious eye at my rifle resting against a rock few feet away.
 ''Don't get frightened, stranger; I ain't a-going to hurt your purity hair"
 saw that my new acquaintance was not a savage, and that he was not desirous of shedding my blood either, so 1 laughingly answered his first question, and admitted that the cabin was ''purty high up."
 "That's my home up yonder," said he, pointing a long, bony finger at the cabin, 'an' if you'll just sling astride your cayuse an follow me I'll soon land you on top O the bluff an near the shack"
 I mounted and followed my guide, who, after winding around huge, tottering bowl ders, along breakneck paths and corkscrew trails, and again, step by step, up steep, almost impossible incines, finally landed me high and dry at the door of the snack. vYith a wave of his hand and all obsequious bow, he kicked the door open with the toe of his boot and bade me enter. 1 crossed the threshold and found the interior as l antici- pated. A brace of powder horns and q pair of antiquated fintlocks hung against the wall, deer horns, elk heads and buffalo horns were suspended from pegs, and the. finest pair of mountain sheep horns l had ever seen was nailed over the doorway. l had not learned the Christian title of my new &C., uuaintance yet, but made bold to put the question.
 "James Ferguson go by back in the States" said he; ''but out here among the Snakes and Bannocks and the few whites l see. they call me Frontier Jim"
 Then knew that my host was no less Q parsonage than the celebrated hunter, trap per, scout and guide told of by the early explorers who had crossed the continent years before seeking an overland route to the Pacific ocean Frontier Jim was indeed a strange mixture of humanity. He had seen many other white men before I chapced to stumble upon him, majority of whom had stopped at his cabin to rest day and to ob- tain information regarding the surrounding country Jim had always been on friendly terms with the Bannocks, Snakes and other | Indians who were generally hostile to the palefaces; but, to own the plain truth, their hostility or friendliness were matters of in- difference to the hunter, as every redskin | who knew him had wholesome respect for Jim's old smoothbore gun, as we'll as an un- disguised admiration for the style in which the old hunter handled his piece. The scout understood my inquiring glance at this once formidable weapon hanging harmlessly from peg, and stepping over he took down the ancient piece of artillery and proceeded to explain its beauties and fine points to me without delay. He pointed out the admir-. able flint action, the sighting apparatus and Edwelt at length upon it's shooting qualities.
 ''But, my friend, ? interrupted I, "you are many years behind the times. This gun would no doubt have held it's own durinp the Mexican war, but now we have fine breech loaders, repeaters and magazine frifes."
 "Bless your innocent soul, !" said he, step ping into corner and drawing into view l one of the latest pattern Winchesters, II be gI gan to shoot with them bankers you see OF
 the wall there nigh on fifty years ago, wher
 they was the best guns in the country. shot them old fellows and their pups {exhib
 iting pair of Mexican flint lock war pistols until two years aback, when lot of feller. came along over the canyon Ira1l ana got mt l to guide them through the park. They made
 me present of this yere repeater and deae
 loads O ammunition"
 Frontier Jim persuaded me to be his gues
 for a day, and that afternoon, just befor,
 dusk, called my attention to an object stand
 ing out in bold relief on a sharp, jagged
 point about 325 yards away and upward The outline was so clear and distinct that ",
 had no difficulty in recognizing a mountain
 ram, who evidently was not very well ac quainted with Jim's skillfu1 handling of rife, else he would not have remained ther,
 in stupid ignorance, impudently gazing at us 'sSee that lar buck on the rock over agains
 the sky? We'll, watch me put dayligh
 through him." said Jim.
 Tho Winchester was at his shoulder an,
 fired almost before knew what had take1
 place The sheep made one bound far ou 1 JOB PRINTING. II An TuE