The Turnbo Manuscripts
by Silas Claiborne Turnbo
1844-1925
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AN ABSENT MINDED HUNTER
By S. C. Turnbo
Mose Lantz, the early day resident on Brattons Spring Creek in Ozark
County, Mo., was a good citizen and influencial, yet he was of an excitable
temperament and absent minded. He had a large number of friends and they
hunted together frequently and divided venison and bear meat with each other
around the camp fire. Elias Keesee, who was personally acquainted with Mr.
Lantz in the pioneer days, gave an account of his father, Paton Keesee,
and Mose Lantz riding to Big Creek one day on a camp hunt. It was the second
year that Lantz lived on Spring Creek or in 1835. On arriving at the creek
they stopped to camp for the night at a spring just below the mouth of Little
Cedar Creek Hollow, where in after years Wilshire Magness settled the creek
bottom just above the spring. The place is known now as the Steve Copelin
land. The men after hobbling their horses to graze on the cane that grew
in the creek bottom prepared a temporary shelter of poles and hides of wild
animals, the latter of which they had brought with them for the purpose.
At night they tied up their horses and after partaking of their evening
lunch they retired to their shelter to lie down and talk and then go to
sleep. But there was no rest for them, neither was there any for the dogs
and horses, for the wild beasts kept up such a noise that camp was in a
stir and turmoil nearly all night and men and dogs had a job on hand to
prevent the wolves from taking charge of camp. The horses broke loose and
ran away. When daylight was discerned in the east the tumult among the wild
beasts became more quiet and when broad daylight came not a wolf was in
sight. The two hunters were weary, hungry and disappointed. Their horses
were gone which broke up the camp hunt. After partaking of a light breakfast
they hung their saddles and camp equipment on the limbs of trees and with
guns and dogs the despondent hunters left their camp at sunrise and trudged
along up Little Cedar Creek Hollow the way they had come the evening previous.
The grass and weeds were tall and wet with heavy dew which saturated their
clothes to their waists. They carried no fresh meat, furs nor pelts. They
had met ill luck and they were homeward bound. They had not went but a short
distance up the hollow when the dogs, which were 250 yards in advance, came
dashing back with twenty wolves at their heels. It was terrifying to see
such a number of wolves driving the dogs along so fast before them. The
frightened canines were doing their best running to keep ahead of the vicious
pack and were uttering that peculiar noise, woo, woo, woo, when they are
bad seared by wolves. The wolves were rushing along just behind the dogs
snarling and snapping. The dogs and wolves as they came darting along toward
the astonished hunters made a wide swathe in knocking down the rank grass
and weeds loaded with dew. Both men stopped and as the terror stricken dogs
dashed up to where the two men stood the wolves stopped a few yards back
and threatened to rush right up to them. The dogs were trembling and cowering
at the men’s feet. The sight of the impudent wolves as they rushed
up with the dogs in the lead was enough to make the bravest of men quake
with fear, but there was no time to fool away in getting afraid and father
took aim with his rifle at one of the beasts and shot it dead. This seemed
to warn the remaining 19 for the report of the rifle seemed to strike them
with terror, and they wheeled about and fled back out of sight.
Not hearing the report of Lantz’ gun, my father said he looked around to see what was the matter, and was surprised at seeing his friend standing still with his rifle on his shoulder watching the fast retreating wolves without making the least effort to put in a shot at them. My father remarked to him., "Mose, why didn’t you kill a wolf?" This seemed to rouse him up and he became rational and replied, "Good God, Keesee, I was so nonplussed at seeing them terrible looking varmints charging up so close to us that I never thought of my gun."
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