Los Angeles herald., 1892-12-28
WOMAN'S WORLD.
A CALIFORNIA WOMAN WHO SHOOTS
FROM A BRoNCHo.


Corridors Flat Rebellion-Interesting
and seasonable Information for the Fair
Ones.
One would never have imagined that
the quiet, dark eyed woman who occu-
pied o seat in the Grand Central station
for half hour yesterday afternoon had
ridden the treacherofis broncho and shot
wildcats on the rocky hills of northern
California But the evidences OF Mrs.
L. w. Hower's prowess as a hunter were
close at hand. Three beautiful wildcat
skins bound together with stout thongs
of buckskin lay at her feet. One tawny
tail had struggled loose and peeped from
under the heavy wrapping papers, lend
ing faint aroma of the wild west to
the prosaic surroundings of the depot.
In motherly canvas bag on her right
there were numerous trinkets OF the
west-a cone from q redwood tree and a
string of wampum shells which had once
graced the throat Of dancing savage.
Mrs. Hover left her home at Arcata,
Humboldt county, Cal, last week over
the Northern Pacific railroad, arriving
in Chicago yesterday. After a brief
sightseeing tour about the city she de-
parted on the Baltimore and Ohio road
for Pittsburg, where she expects to
make an extended visit with her girl
hood friends.
Full of the fearless western spirit of
independence, Mrs. Hover travels unac-
companied except for the bundle of
wildcat skins and the motherly canvas
bag. It is the first time she has been
east since, as a bride, she followed her
husband over the prairies of the west
and settled with him in lonely little
cabin among the redwoods of northern
California. That was fifteen years ago,
when only the hardest of pioneers had
ventured so far away from San Fran
cisco into the dense unmarked forests of
the north.
Mr.. Hower's stories of her adven-
lures sound like passages from some ex-
citing romance. They all begin with
the little cabin which her husband built
as soon as his wife arrived. In those
days the forests were full of wolves and
wildcats, to say nothing of deer and
antelope. Sometimes in the winter
huge grizzly bear or wildcat, driven out
of the mountain by hunger, would prowl
around their cabin trying to steal
stray sheep. Mr.. Hover was away
great part of the time, and his wife soon
became an expert with the rifle.
There would be commotion in the
flock of sheep browsing near the house.
Mrs. Hover knew in a moment that
wildcat had come skulking down.
Dropping her sewing, she would seize
her rifle, vault upon the broncho stand
ing always saddled near the door and
dash up the rocky road. The bleating
of the sheep would guide her. Pres
emily there would be a glimpse of a
dark object bounding heavily from crag
to crag under the weight of live lamb.
The broncho would be brought to sud-
den standstill. A rifle deliberately lev
eled, quick report, and the dark ma
rauder would fall back with a snarl of
pain.
Where Mrs. Hover is located all traf-
fic is done by bronchos, and no one thinks
OF stirring out except upon the back OF
one of those sure footed animals. From
little flock of fine sheep Mrs. Hover
has seen her husbands labor crowned
with prosperity, until now 5000 sheep
nod over the steep pastures on the hills,
and little band of men is required to
attend them.
After all these years Mrs. Hover is
going back to visit her friends and is
carrying some suggestive mementos of
her life and adventures in the west.
She is demure, pleasant faced woman,
neatly dressed in black. She tells of
her experiences with little deprecatory
wave of her hand, as if it were the
most ordinary occurrence in the world
for women to ride bronchos and shoot
Wildcats Chicago News-Record.