Told By A Guide--1899[1]

Do you know Yancey’s? Where the winding trail From Washburn Mountain strikes the old stage road, And wagons from Cooke City and the mail Unhitch awhile, and teamsters shift the load?

A handy bunch of men are round the stove At Yancey’s--hunters back from Jackson’s Hole, And Ed Hough telling of a mighty drove Of elk that he ran down to Teton Bowl.

And Yancey he says: “Mr. Woody, there, Can tell a hunting yarn or two--beside, He guided Roosevelt when he shot a bear And six bull elk with antlers spreading wide.”

But Woody is a guide who doesn’t brag; He puffed his pipe awhile, then gravely said: “I knew he’d put the Spaniards in a bag, For Mister Roosevelt always picked a head.

“That man won’t slosh around in politics And waste his time a-killing little game; He studies elk, and men, and knows their tricks, And when he picks a head he hits the same.”

Now, down at Yancey’s every man’s a sport, And free to back his knowledge up with lead; And each believes that Roosevelt is the sort To run the State, because he “picks a head.”

Tall, silent old Woody, a fine type of the fast-vanishing race of game-hunters and Indian-fighters.

Roosevelt’s The Wilderness Hunter.