' FOREST AND STREAM. 



We had been but a few days on our trip, and had stopped 

 by £he side of a path that wound around the base of the 

 mountain, and were debating whether to take the longer 

 route by the path or with our heavy packs climb over the 

 mountain, when we were startled by the sound of whist- 

 ling and of horses' feet approaching. There soon appeared 

 a young Indian mounted on his mustang or Indian pony. 

 He sat bolt upright, with his blanket thrown carelessly 

 over one shoulder, while his rifle in his hand was thrown 

 across in front of him. He seemed in a pleasant mood, and 

 as he went by he nodded and gave us the usual "Bozu," 

 which I returned. Following at a short distance came his 

 squaw, loaded down (as usual) with all the traps and para- 

 phernalia of a Nitchee "on a move," wigwam poles, skins, 

 pots, bundles, &c. Poor thing, she was bent nearly double; 

 and she could hardly stagger along under the load that 

 would have been too much for a strong man. Knowing 

 the character and custom of the Indians I merely said, 

 turning to Mot, "rather tough, isn't it?" and I was about 

 to resume the journey, when Mot replied, with flashing 

 eyes, all the spirit of chivalry and honest indignation 

 aroused within him, "tough? it is outrageous; I won't stand 

 it; will you stay by me, George?" "What do you propose 

 to do?" "Do? I mean to right that poor woman and make 

 that red scoundrel treat her like a Christian." I said, "it 

 won't do, Mot; that is their way, as hard as it appears to 

 us, but it is none of our business ; the men never do any 

 labor themselves, the squaws do it all." But with tears in 

 liis eyes the boy begged me not to deny him. Considera- 

 bly perplexed, somewhat curious, and not a little amazed, 

 I said, "well, go ahead." He rushed up to the Pottawat- 

 tamie, saying, "here get off that horse," took the pack 

 from the squaw and commenced dividing it into three par- 

 cels, all the while expostulating in no gentle tones with the 

 Indian, who seemed thunderstruck at the movements, but 

 looked on in dogged silence but with glittering eyes. Once 

 or twice his hand reached down for his knife, but as my 

 double barrel, with both hammers up, was bearing on his 

 breast, a look from my eye caused the hand each time to 

 retreat. Mot says, "you scoundrel, -to treat your wife so." 

 "Ugh! my squaw." "Your squaw," replied the knight er- 

 rant, "she is your wife in the sight of God and man, and 

 you ought to be strung up for such dastardly treatment." 

 The' squaw didn't seem to like the change either, but Mot 

 was inexorable. After dividing the pack, having given 

 one to the squaw, and with considerable difficulty fastened 

 another on the back of the pony, which, not being accus- 

 tomed to such things, danced around pretty lively, he 

 placed the other on the Indian's shoulders, and then I 

 thought there would be a fight sure ; twice he had his knife 

 half out of his sheath, but my threat to shoot him down 

 then and there each time deterred him. Mot said, "there, 

 you scoundrel, go on ; and if I ever know of your treating 

 your wife in that way again I'll break every bone in your 

 body." With sullen silence, leading the pony, the Potta- 

 wattamie disappeared around a bend in the path. ""There," 

 said Mot, drawing a long breath, "I've done one good 

 deed." "Done a good deed," I replied; "do you know 

 what you have done? You have not only made* an enemy 

 for life, and very foolishly too, but you have caused that 

 poor squaw to get one of the worst whalings she ever had 

 in all her servitude. That arrangement won't last ten min- 

 utes, and I will prove it to you, but you must promise not 

 to interfere again, for this is too ticklish business for Us 

 here alone in the woods. An Injun never forgets an in- 

 sult of such a kind, and it will be his consummate cowar- 

 dice that will prevent his following us and knifing us in 

 our very beds." "Poh! I'll risk that; I ain't afraid." 

 "•Well, I don't know as I am afraid exactly, but it don't 

 pay to take such chances." 



Now to prove my first assertion, we struck across the 

 mountain and hit the path on the other side before they 

 got there. We had but just arrived at the path and 

 concealed ourselves, when we heard the step of the pony, 

 and as it came up there was Mister Nitchee on its back, 

 (but he was not whistling now,) with only his blanket and 

 rifle, while behind him, bent more double than before, tot- 

 tered the poor squaw with all the load, and we could see 

 by the furrows down her dirty and besmeared cheeks, and 

 red, swollen eyes, that she had been having a hard cry. I 

 placed my hand on Mot's shoulder, and it was all I could 

 do to compel him to keep his promise and not again med- 

 dle in a matter that was none of his business. He learned 

 more about Injuns and their customs afterwards. 



The life of a squaw is a life of the most degrading ser- 

 vitude, from the sugar season in the spring — the only time 

 when they seem to enjoy themselves, and then they give 

 up to wholesale gossip and hilarity — through the corn 

 planting, tending, harvesting, &c. , to the trapping season 

 in the fall, it is one long round of hard work, with kicks 

 and cuffs only as pay. 



The squaw does all the work, even builds the wigwam, 

 cuts the wood, cooks the food, cures the skins, and when 

 moving, carries all the loads. They ever object to their 

 husbands doing work, as they say it makes his hand trem- 

 ble, and he can't kill "heap game," a cunning dodge, no 

 doubt, of tl;e Indian on Mrs. Nitchee. 



A group of squaws making sugar is a grotesque and 

 amusing sight. As the time for the running of the sap ap- 

 proaches, a party of perhaps twenty or thirty families or 

 more will gather in the woods where there may be a suffi- 

 cient number of the maple trees. The wigwams will be 

 built around in a large circle, the kettles, all small of 

 course, holding perhaps only three or four quarts, (for in 

 their many movings they could not carry larger ones,) 

 strung on poles in a line with a continuous fire the whole 



387 



length. The sap is gathered in small baskets or buckets 

 of birch bark, which are hung on the trees under where 

 a downward gash has been made half girdling the tree. 

 These buckets hold only a pint or more, and have to be gath- 

 ered and emptied often. The boiling sap is kept almost con- 

 tinually on the move from kettle to kettle, until, towards the 

 thirtieth or fortieth kettle or less, it is sugar and ready to 

 be clarified or grained. 



To be sure an Indian is not very particular in his tastes 

 or neat in his domestic affairs, and if he comes home hun- 

 gry is pretty apt to chuck into the boiling syrup the body 

 of a squirrel or muskrat, or in fact anything else in the 

 eating line, but the squaws have a way peculiar to them- 

 selves of clarifying it, and when they take pains it is a 

 good article. They do it up in packages of birch bark-, 

 which are called mocucks, and when of fine quality it finds a 

 ready market, though I have seen some Injun sugar that 

 was simply abominably black in appearance and execrable 

 in taste. 



The Nitchee then takes the mocucks, or rather, compels 

 the squaw to take them to the settlements, where he trades 

 them off for whiskey, amunition, whiskey, nicknacks, and 

 whiskey, and if the squaw gets a string of beads or a red 

 handkerchief and no kicks or cuffs from her drunken lord, 

 she is indeed lucky. 



As I said before, the happy time for the squaw is during 

 the ' 'sugar making. " Then are they gathered together, and 

 all their woman nature comes out strong, and like their 

 lighter sisters, gossip is the order of the # day. What a per- 

 fect babble of tongues; all are talking and gesticulating to- 

 gether; talk, talk, chat, chat, rattlety bang; with their 

 rippling laughter now and then arising above all the clatter. 

 The immediately surrounding trees and bushes are 

 adorned (?) with many a pappoose, silently swinging back 

 and forth, as the little occupant, with its shining bead-like 

 eyes, watches the movements going on; uttering no cry 

 under any circumstances; the rain may beat down upon 

 their unprotected heads, or the hot sun may strike full in 

 their dusky faces, no one ever heard an Indian baby utter 

 a word of complaint. Every now and then a mother would 

 jump up from her stirring kettle, seize one of the boards to 

 which her offspring was strapped, clasp it to her breast a 

 few minutes and then hang it back in its place. The nut- 

 brown child of the forest had received its dinner. During 

 this season the lord of the wigwam, if not off on a hnnt, 

 lies asleep all the day on his bed of skins or boughs. "Such 

 is life," at least of the Pottawattamie, as I knew them. 



We had crossed the Black river, made our examination 

 of the land, and turned back, but alas, the river from a 

 Avidth of a few hundred feet now reached over half a mile, 

 the water from the recent freshet had overflowed its usual 

 bed and extended far into the woods. Our canoes 

 were gone, our s*ock of provisions were only sufficient to 

 reach the settlement on an ordinary occasion. Now we 

 must take a weary tramp up the river, we knew not how 

 far, until we found a crossing. A long and weary tramp 

 we had. Often went we to our bed of boughs with empty 

 stomachs. The game seeme 1 to have left for parts un- 

 known. Now and then we heard the woodpecker's gentle 

 tap on the resounding tree, but when we looked for him, 

 he was "non est;" or we would hear the hoarse croak of a 

 solitary raven, as he stopped for a moment on the top of a 

 tall tree, adding only a greater depth to our sombre feel- 

 ings. No deer, no grouse, no other living creature could 

 we see. 



We had been two days with only eight small crackers 

 apiece, with our coffee; we were getting very weak. Poor 

 Mot, a young Hercules with a full stomach, wilted like a 

 child; his pluck was magnificent; although with difficulty 

 he could lift his weary limbs over a two foot log, not a 

 murmur escaped him. Being more hardened to such 

 things I felt the matter much less, but oh, how I pitied 

 him. 



We were crawling through a poplar barren, when some- 

 thing flopped up and was gliding off through the bushes. 

 My gun was at my shoulder in a moment, and as the smoke 

 cleared away I had the satisfaction of seeing something 

 pitch down through the leaves some forty yards distant. 

 Mot's eyes glistened, and a fervent "thank God" broke 

 from him. I, though somewhat pleased, did not feel quite 

 so exhilarated, as I.had rather a faint idea of what I had 

 killed. Upon approaching the place, we picked up a large 

 gray bird, a bird of feathered horns and monstrous eyes. 

 I could not restrain my laugh, bad as I felt, at the expres- 

 sion on Mot's face, as he said, "is it an owl?" But we 

 were hungry enough even for an owl. We carried him 

 along over the barren until we struck down into a hollow 

 and found a brook. I picked the bird while Mot made the 

 fire. I cut up the fowl, and with pepper and salt put it 

 into our pail over the fire; to be sure there were more 

 bones than meat, and originally more feathers than both 

 together, but we were very hungry. Now, I am aware 

 that there is a very settled impression abroad in regard to 

 owl as an edible delicacy, but I assure Judge M — and Tom 

 j — that that owl soup was not to be laughed at or treated 

 in a trifling way. I tell you it was a serious business to us- 

 The soup was good, though I fully believe myself that an 

 onion, with a carrot, a few sliced potatoes, a little celery, 

 a taste of Worcester, or a dash of Cayenne, might have im- 

 proved it some. We had rather a severe muscular tug, too, 

 at the bones, and Mot remarked that, like the man and the 

 c ow, under the peculiar circumstances he could eat owl 

 but that "he did not hanker arter it." If it did not exactly 

 save our lives, we at least arose from that attack strengh- 

 ened and rejuvenated. How good our pipes did taste, (per- 

 haps your dainty city sport would think so after such a 



delicacy,) as we laid back on a bed of moss, and took an 

 hour's rest. I think that even Tom under such circum- 

 stances could have enjoyed a cigar, with no fear of a dele- 

 terious effect on his nervous system, (couldn't he, Lew?) 



We found a place at last where by falling a tree we cross- 

 ed the river; we were then by our reckoning twenty-seven 

 miles to a settlement, a saw mill on one of the eastern 

 branches. That morning we had ten crackers apiece left, 

 including the crumbs. We calculated after eating four for 

 breakfast we could reach a deserted shanty we knew of 

 eighteen miles distant, that night, then four more crackers 

 for supper, leaving two again for breakfast, with coffee 

 for one cup apiece each time. The next day we thought 

 we could easily reach the saw mill. 



We fortunately found an old lumber road, and by follow- 

 ing that we had easier travelling, and arrived at the shanty 

 about two P. M. While getting ready for our supper and 

 bed Mat looking up (and so hollow eyed and woe begone 

 in all his appearance my heart smote me) said, "I think 

 if I had those six crackers and those two cups of coffee in 

 one, I could reach that mill to-night and get a square 

 meal." Well, if you think so we'll try it. It was a hard 

 way, but just before dark we reached the place; we found 

 a jolly lot of lumbermen, and were made heartily welcome. 

 After a good wash and a rest, we were called to supper. I 

 had explained matters to the good woman and a large sup- 

 ply was placed before us. First I remember there was a 

 large platter of fried venison, not less than ten pounds, to 

 all appearances; roast potatoes, a good sized dish; broiled 

 ditto; a large plate of hot biscuit, and an eight quart pan of 

 fried doughnuts, with some kind of pie, I don't remember 

 what, and a pot of tea. 



I ate three or four slices of venison, with some potatoes, 

 two biscuits and a couple of doughnuts, and drank two 

 cups of tea. Mot had not said a word since we sat down, 

 but I saw that he was going in heavy; in fact, was doing 

 a good business. 



I went out to the mill, smoked a pipe, aud enjoyed a 

 good talk with the proprietor. Nearly a half hour elapsed, 

 when the woman came out, and consternation dire was de- 

 picted in her countenance as she exclaimed — 



" For the Lord's sake, what kind of a man is that in 

 there ?" 



" Why," said I, " what is the matter ?" 



" You told me you were very hungry, and I know what 

 appetites men of the woods have, and I cooked for eight, 

 but as sure as you live he has eaten everything on the table 

 and is asking for more venison." Well, I replied, give him 

 all he wants and charge accordingly in the bill. "Oh," she 

 exclaimed, "it is not that. We have got plenty of it and 

 he shall have all he wants, but where in the world does he 

 put it? Are his legs hollow all the way down"? And 

 Mot got it. Shortly after he came out pricking his teeth, 

 saying he felt considerably better and could beat me clean 

 out of my boots on a tramp the next day. 



Jacobstaff. 



MOUNTING DEER FEET. 



Editor. Forest and Stream: — 



No doubt, during the past shooting season, many of your 

 readers have succeeded in bringing down the magnificently 

 antlered deer, caribou, or moose. Most sportsmen like to 

 preserve a fine pair of antlers, and frequently a hoof is 

 made into some useful or ornamental article. The mount- 

 ing of the hoofs in some form or other is generally expen- 

 sive, and frequently it is very inconvenient to get either 

 hoofs or antlers mounted by a skilled person. It is to 

 those whose distance from skilled labor, or the trouble and 

 expense connected with mounting horns or hoofs, often 

 causes them to cast away many a pair of antlers or set of 

 feet which they would gladly have kept, that I would ad- 

 dress myself . 



The feet of the deer, so generally thrown away, may be 

 made to serve a variety of useful and ornamental purposes 

 with a very little trouble. They make a pretty and appro- 

 priate gun or fishing rod rack; also, suitable pegs for hats 

 or sporting accoutrements, and in conjunction with a pair 

 of antlers form a very effective hat and coat rack for a 

 hall. To make a gun rack take a piece of black walnut, 

 ash, chestnut, or maple, about three inches wide, and one 

 and a half inches thick. Plane it smooth, and if possible 

 plane the edges with a molding plane; bore two holes, one 

 near each end (say six inches^distant), and at the same slant 

 you wish your pegs to have; make the holes to fit the legs, 

 which should have be^n cut off the length required. Im- 

 mediately above the holes made to receive the legs, two 

 small holes should be bored for the screws which fasten the 

 board to the wall. Fasten it up, and you have a neat and 

 handsome support for your gun or rod. A row of hat 

 pegs may be made in this manner, and single ones may be 

 made by using small squares of wood. 



A coat and hat rack for a hall may be made by crossing 

 two strips of wood diagonally, or arranging as taste may 

 dictate, and inserting a deer leg at each extremity and one 

 at the crossing. A mounted head or pair of antlers should 

 surmount the whole, the antlers being simply mounted by 

 being screwed or nailed to a piece of wood, either square 

 or oval. 



In conclusion, I would say that where black walnut or 

 other ornamental wood is not procurable, a most excellent 

 imitation may be made by using common pine. Buy a 

 few cents worth of permanganate of potash; dissolve it in 

 water, and stain your wood to any shade desired. When 

 dry, varnish, and you will have an imitation of walnut that 

 almost surpasses the original. Hoping the above may 

 prove of use to some of your many readers, I remain, 



Yours truly, Transit. 



