Delia D'Ambra

But the results were the same.

Nothing.

No sign of Ellsworth.

The description of him that everyone was given was that he was bald, armed with a firearm, and had been wearing light clothing.

As more and more time passed with no clues as to where he was, investigators, his wife Alma, and even people in the search parties began to speculate whether he'd been attacked by the very suspected poachers he'd set out to investigate.

Of course, no one wanted the worst to be true, but it was a theory that made a lot of sense.

Coverage by the Coeur d'Alene Press stated, for example, that the weekend before Ellsworth vanished, authorities had chased a pair of suspected robbers into the hills outside of Mullen after they ran from a vehicle.

When officers examined the car they abandoned, they discovered it contained a lot of revolvers and rifle shells, basically an ammunition cache.

Anyone who knew Ellsworth knew that as Shoshone County's deputy game warden, he was serious about cracking down on people who broke the law.

During the Great Depression, poaching cases had increased due to so many people living off the land for survival.

But Ellsworth had had enough of poachers harvesting wildlife out of season or anglers catching fish in higher volumes than what the law permitted.

Local residents respected him for his position on the issue and would even tip him off if they found evidence of someone poaching.

In the summer of 1934, Ellsworth was heralded as the tip of the spear as far as game law enforcement went.

And local newspapers like the Chichot News Press made it clear that that particular summer he was only beginning what would become a months-long initiative to stop poachers and anglers in their tracks.

For example, during the last weekend of July, Ellsworth had set up a checkpoint in a ghost town, for lack of a better description, and stopped every driver, just checking to see for illegal game harvests.

The Shoshone News Press reported that he'd parked in an area of elevation above the town and waited for travelers to come by.

In just that one weekend, he'd stopped 17 vehicles and searched them for game violations.

The following week, he wrote one man a citation for harvesting pheasants and fined him $25 plus court costs.

And that kind of money back in 1934 was no chump change.

It would equate to more than $600 in today's currency.