A HUNT ON PETALUMA CREEK.—ELK FEVER BREAKS OUT.—THE EXPEDITION TO KLAMATH LAKE.—A LIVELY BRUSH WITH MODOC INDIANS.
The hunting party made up at the Fort was ready early in December, and we pulled out, promising to be home by New Year's day, at the latest.
At this time there were no steamers running across the bay in the direction we wished to go, so we hired a tug to take us over to the mouth of Petaluma creek, near which we proposed to pitch our hunting camp. Here was live-oak timber, with now and then a redwood, and in places the chapparal was thick, and there was no end to deer sign.
We had plenty of shelter in case of storm, having two good-sized tents in the outfit and only six men, not counting the darkey cook, who, however, always does count in an expedition like that. In the party I was the only one who had ever hunted any. Three of the others had never fired a shot at larger game than a jack- rabbit. Col. Elliott had once killed a deer, of which I made mention in a preceding chapter.
The following morning after breakfast I told them to select their course for the day's hunting, and I would go in an opposite direction.
"Why do you wish to go in an opposite direction?" Lieut. Harding asked; "Why not all go together?" I replied that after we got out in the woods I did not think they could tell a man from a deer, and I did not want to be shot by a white man out here in this country.
Capt. Mills proposed that three go at a time, two officers and myself, by so doing there would be no danger.
This being satisfactory, Lieut. Harding, Capt. Mills and myself took the first turn. Neither of them had ever hunted any, and both were as ignorant in that line as I was when I started out from St. Louis in company with Uncle Kit Carson, which, by the way, I had told them something about the night before, while sitting around the campfire.
When we were all ready for the hunt and had started to walk away from the tent, Capt. Mills requested the Colonel to have the horses in readiness to pack the deer in. We had not gone far until I asked them if they could not walk without making so much noise. Lieut. Harding said he did not see what difference it made how a person walked, and I had to stop and explain matters by telling them that a deer depended as much on his ears as he did on his eyes, and if we did not walk easier the deer would hear us before we could get sight of them, and it seemed to me that they had stepped on every stick along our way and had rubbed against every brush that we passed near. Having been trained to hunt since a boy of fifteen years old, it became second nature for me to slide along without making a particle of noise.
After traveling a short distance we saw four deer coming toward us, and I pointed out an opening and said: "When they get to that place I will stop them; be ready, and when I count three, fire." When the deer were all on the selected spot I gave a keen whistle, which caused them to stop and throw up their heads. I counted three and fired, but did not hear the report of the other guns. Just as I turned to see what was the trouble, Capt. Mills fired, but Lieut. Harding stood and held his gun at a "ready" and did not fire at all. He said the sight was so pretty that he did not think of his gun. I killed my deer, and the Captain wounded his by breaking one fore leg. The other deer gave a few jumps and stopped, and I took the Lieutenant's gun and shot it dead. We now had two deer and were only about a mile from camp. I left the two officers to dress the venison and I went back to camp after a horse to pack it in. While I was away, and before they had got the fallen game dressed, two other deer came along within gunshot of them. The two officers fired at them and killed one deer, both claiming the honor of the fatal shot. Now we had plenty of meat for a start, and would, no doubt, get more before we consumed that.
After arriving at camp with the deer I directed Jake, the negro cook, to get an early dinner, as I wanted to take a big hunt that afternoon.
While at the dinner table I suggested that as they could find deer anywhere around there, for they were as thick as sheep and not very wild, that they might kill that kind of game, while I would mount Pinto and prospect for larger, for I thought there were elk in that country, and if that was true we wanted some of them.
After dinner I mounted my horse and was off for an elk hunt. After riding up the river about three miles I could see any amount of sign. Dismounting and tying my horse, I took an elk trail where a band had just crossed the trail on which I was riding, and I did not follow it very far until I came in sight of the elk. There were eight in this band, and I had to take a roundabout course to get in gunshot of them, but when I finally did get a shot at them I killed an elk that carried the largest pair of horns I have ever seen, with one exception. I unjointed his neck about a foot from his head and dressed him, but left his hide on. The head and horns were all I could lift as high as the horse's back.
When I rode up to camp and the negro cook saw that head of horns he exclaimed: "Hello, Marstah; what you got dar? You must hab killed de debbil dis time, suah."
From the negro I learned that the officers had all been out, and had seen more or less deer and had done more or less shooting, but had only killed one small doe.
That night the elk fever raged high in camp, as that pair of horns had set them all wild to go elk hunting the next day. That night we ordered an early breakfast, so as to get an early start to our hunting ground.
After riding up the river the next morning, to where I had killed the elk the day before, we all dismounted and tied our horses. I asked them which they preferred, to go single or two together, and they thought it the best plan to go in couples.
Being somewhat acquainted with this kind of game, and knowing where to find them at this time of day, I told them what ridges to take to lead them to the main divide, also what our signals would be to come together.
Capt. Mills and I took up the center ridge, the two other couples going on ridges each side of us, but not in sight. After going about a mile or so we heard two gunshots to our left, and in a few moments we could hear elk running. The underbrush was so thick that it was difficult to get a shot at them on the run, so, seeing an opening that they were sure to cross, provided that they did not change their course, I had the Captain to stand by the side of a big tree and level his gun at the opening, and when an elk darkened the sight to fire, which he did, and got a fine elk. I fired also, but did not get my elk. He was as proud over killing that elk as I was over killing my first buffalo.
We hunted until about four o'clock that afternoon, and several shots were fired, but the Captain was the only one who got an elk that day. So we loaded that one, and the one I had killed the day previous, on to our horses and returned to camp with about all the meat the horses were able to carry.
The next morning I told the other men that as they now knew the elk range and how to hunt them, and could get along without me as well as not, that I would hunt for a grizzly bear, and if I could only kill a grizzly I would be ready to go home. I spent the next three days bear hunting, and saw any amount of sign, but only saw one bear and did not get a shot at it.
After being out about two weeks, and all having enough of hunting, they thought, to last them a year—as they had killed more or less deer, and one of them had killed an elk—and time being about up for the tug to come after us, we pulled up camp and started for the bay, arriving there on the 19th. The tug arrived on the 20th, about noon.
We reached San Francisco that evening, about dark, unloaded our baggage and meat, hired a man to watch it that night and we saddled up and rode out to the Fort.
The following morning I returned to the city, hired a team and took our baggage, as well as the meat we had killed, back to the Fort.
I was hailed several times while passing through the city by parties who wished to buy my mammoth elk horns, but I would not sell them, having already given them to Col. Elliott.
I stayed around the city until the middle of February, not knowing what to do to kill time, and loafing is the hardest work I ever did.
About this time Col. Elliott received orders to go out into southeastern Oregon,