38 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



jerk landed him on the bank. If the current took the 

 snare one side and the fish was not disturbed we would try 

 it over. 



Once we walked down the track of the Boston Rail- 

 road to Kinderhook Lake to fish for pickerel through the 

 ice, after planning the campaign for weeks, and we carried 

 knapsacks filled with camping goods of more or less util- 

 ity. We got a fish, and took a rabbit and three grouse 

 from the snares of some poacher, and had a good time, all 

 of which was written up for Forest and Stream of January 

 3, 1889, as a "Christmas Reminiscence." The great won- 

 der to me then and now was where John learned all the 

 mysteries which he unfolded to me. He never told this, 

 and perhaps his air of mystery helped to magnify his 

 knowledge. He did not consort with Port Tyler, the 

 local Natty Bumpo, who lived by rod, gun and traps ; for 

 Port was a solitary man, and later, when I was taken as 

 an occasional companion by Port, he once said: "John 

 Atwood can't stick to one thing nor one place long 

 enough to do anything at hunting ; he runs all over, and, 

 durn him! he spoiled some good pa'tridge ground for me 

 once." This remark was a little foggy, but the impres- 

 sion was that John had interfered with some fences and 

 snares that Porter had set; but it was only an impression, 

 for no more was said. Perhaps the snares that we took 

 the grouse from were Port's! Port's remark fitted John 

 in other respects than hunting. A job in John Ruyter's 

 tannery, grinding bark, in Ring's "white mill," or in Her- 

 rick's distillery, feeding cattle, was not kept long. My 

 father's estimate of him was a just one, but of the boys 

 that I knew in youth few have a warmer spot in my mem- 

 ory than John Atwood. 



Among the boys of Greenbush was one named Philip 

 Spencer, who came from Hudson, and at one time was a 



