The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1889-10-09
Selected Storm.
A Wyoming Hunt.

men who took their outing last sum-
mer amid the wilds of Wyoming. The
narrative is from the Omaha RepubH-
can, and was written by Henry ID. Es-
tabrook, bright lawyer of Omaha, who
may not himself be known in this local
ity in his entirety, but his better-half is
a charming Washington county girl and
is pleasantly remembered, particularly
at Waitsfeld and Montpelier. 1t is
proper to remark that some of the pic
turesque appelations used are " the
cowboy aliases " of the members of the
party
1t was early morning when we started
and too cold to be comfortable. But
as the day advanced and the scenery
became more rugged, the whole party
warmed to the magnitcence of our sur
roundings. The atmosphere was as
clear as a polished lens and seemed to
magnify the objects viewed through 1t.
We could see for miles and miles in
every Objectionable gorges in the
sides of distant mountains, the snow on
their peaks, an eagle soaring higher
than the clouds, herd of antelope
far, far out of rifle range-in short, If
it were not for the mountains, l believe
there would be no horizon at all,
but the eye could peer over the brink
of the world ten thousand fathoms
into space. And the air and sunshine
of Wyomingl What leaden pencil can
describe the subtle fusion of one into
the other, until the lungs fairly seem to
inhale sunshine Back in Omaha you
have air and sunshine that are almost
ponderable; they are two separate and
distinct commodities. Out here air and
sunshine is mixed drink, the purest,
sweetest nectar in the world. What
country, moreover, has a climate like
Wyoming? where you blister in the
sun and SILVER in the shade; where the
evaporation is so rapid that streams
running full-tilt in the morning are dry
as a remainder biscuit in the evening;
where the clouds, twenty times day,
gather themselves into black, tumultu-
Gus and horrible array, threatening
perfect cataclysm of hail, rain or snow,
or possibly all three, when-presto!
they have vanished, leaving the sky so
serenely blue that you wonder how it
could ever support tleck of vapor.
Wyoming is the birthplace of the clouds.
They are born in the upper air and
graded on the mountains, to be blown
about like draperies of the sun. The
day and night are alike glorious; each
has its peculiar mystery of beauty and
equal the golden glory of the nights or
the sivern splendor of the days.
Forty-Mile Ranch belongs to Elmer ID.
Frank of Omaha, whose guests we are.
1t is stocked with about one thousand
head of horses, and the roundup, las
soing and branding of these semi
bronchos has not been the least inter-
esting experience of our trip. There
is nothing like the life on ranch to call
out the latent possibilities of man.
His entire isolation from any market of
supply taxes his ingenuity to the ut
most. For instance, l never before
realized to what a multiplicity of uses
the simple article of wire could be put.
1t is called "the ranch-man's nails"
If fence-board comes off, it is tied up
with wire; if wagOn-tire gets loose,
it is fastened on with wire; if har-
ness-tug breaks, its place is supplied
with wire. What calomel and jalap are
to doctor, wire is to the ranchman.
1t even answers for whiskey, for l
heard a cowboy say to the bartender in
Rock Creek, slapping silver dollar
on the counter, " Hi, there, guy us er
glass of barbed wire!"
Several parties had told us that bears
were thick over on the Sabille in the
neighborhood of Halleck Canyon, so
we pulled up stakes and hit the trail
for Halleck Canyon. 1t was a three
days journey. We camped once at
the ranch and once at Boswell Springs
an ice-cold geyser that bubbles up in
the midst of the plains, among cactus
and sage-brush, veritable oasis in the
desert. The third day brought us to
our present quarters, and here our adj
ventures may be said to have COM
menced. 1t was the second day after
our arrival. Most of the party had gone
to set the bear-traps, leaving only
Frank, Clark and Richards in camp.
About three O'Clock in the afternoon
the first two named concluded to ride
out and knock over a few grouse for
supper. Possibly two miles from the
tents, while sauntering down one of
the beautiful streams which CLEAN
from the bottom of every canyon, like
streaks of forgotten sunshine, Clark
heard the crackle of bushes and pulled
his horse up with the exclamation:
"That sounds like bear-and, by lingo,
there they arep' Sure enough, two of
the clumsy monsters numbered out of a
quakenasp thicket on the opposite side
of the ravine. Clark dismounted, and,
drawing his rifle from its sheath, shot
at one of them, badly wounding it.
The second bear got it in the neck
literally in the neck-and fell dead in
his tracks. Poor Frank in the mean time
had been playing in hard luck. He had
gotten down from his saddle and par
TALLY drawn his rifle from its scabbard,
when his horse, catching the scent of
bear, pulled away from him and ran
half way up the mountain, taking gun
and all. This was the more aggra-
waiting inasmuch as three other big sill
vertips, disturbed by the noise, rushed
out of the bushes and made tracks up
the canyon. The boys corralled their
horses and skinned the dead bear and
then commenced to prospect for the
others, They rode up and down the