256 With Rod and Gun in New England 



with the horse-pistol to look for game. John said : " Leave the lines out 

 in the holes, we '11 cut 'em out in the morning." 



The place where the monsters had assembled the night before, near 

 the oak, showed only some rabbit and mice-tracks, much to my surprise, 

 but I made no comment on the fact because I did not care to explain it to 

 John. It was thawing slightly and the snow did not crunch, as at midnight, 

 and a few dead leaves fluttered down. We came upon the track of a man 

 which had been made after the snow had hardened; the edges of the crust 

 had been broken, and without any reason we followed it. Soon John said, 

 "This fellow is snaring partridges," the bird we now call " ruffed grouse." 



" How do you know that " ? 



He pointed to a low hedge made of brush, and said: "There is his 

 fence, and we '11 follow it and see what he 's got." 



This was charming. It opened up a new bit of woodcraft, for I had 

 heard of snaring partridges but never expected to see it done. The fence 

 had been made before the last snow fell, that was evident, because there 

 were no fresh man-tracks beside it. We soon found the first opening in 

 the fence and John pointed out that the trapper had taken a bird out after 

 the first snow had fallen, but before it had crusted, and I marvelled at 

 John's knowledge of woodcraft. The second opening showed a partridge 

 snared and swung up on a limb, and we discussed the propriety of 

 taking it. 



"Now, John," said I, "that partridge belongs to the man who built 

 the fence and set the snare, and it looks to me like stealing to take it. 

 Suppose some man should go out on the lake while we are away and take 

 a whole lot of fish from our lines. How would you like it " ? 



In John's mind the case could not have been a parallel one, because 

 he gave me a look and replied : " It don't make no difference, I 'm goin' to 

 have that pa'tridge. Jim Bleecker and other first-class Albany gunners 

 say that a man who snares pa'tridges is a thief and a sneak, an' I 'm not 

 only going to have that bird but I '11 break his fences and his snares." 



We got two more grouse and a rabbit, broke up a quarter of a mile 

 of fence and went back to camp. The sun was low. We hung the birds 

 back of the shanty where the fire would not hurt them. I made a fire 

 while John dressed the rabbit, and then we cooked it by parboiling it in our 

 coffee pail, and then we fried it in sausage gravy. The snows of fifty win- 

 ters have fallen since, and the suns of as many summers have melted them, 

 and yet I hesitate to say that a rabbit cooked in that manner is not a rabbit 

 cooked in the highest style of the culinary art. It was flavored with all 

 the romance of a first camp, and sausage gravy. My more mature palate 

 has nothing to compare with it, and that night in the long ago, I ate that 

 rabbit with a gusto that could not have been surpassed by the wildest 

 dreams of Lucullus. True, the rabbit was not one captured in lawful 



