SPORTSMAN'S JOURNAL. 



[Entered According to Aot of Congress, In the Tear 1879, by the Forest & Stream Publishing Company, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington;] 



Terina, Four Dollars a Yi 

 Ten Cenia a (lopy. 

 6 months, 82 i 3 month*. 



rear , 



>, SI. J 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JUNE 5, 1879. 



I Volume 12-No, 18. 

 INo. HI FuhnnSt. N. V 



for Forest and Stream and Rod and Gun. 

 THE FOUR WINDS. 



YyiND of the North. O fierce North wind, 



* ' That bloweth wild and free ! 

 What or the laud thou'at left behind, 



Euveiled with mystery ? 

 Where weird Aurora's dash Is hurl'd 



Thy ley couch la spread, 

 Thy throne— the spindle of the world— 



O North wind, cold and dread ! 



Wind of the East I o sobbing wind , 



Thou pulseth from the sea. 

 Thy voice with moan of wreck embrlued 



Walla fitting elegy. 

 Low o'er the land thy trailing lockB 



Mysterious shadows wreathe ; 

 The bittern calls, and bleating nooks 



Faint notes of warning breathe. 



Wind of the West ! O gallant wind, 



Fair knight of fairest weather, 

 Thou brlngest to the wearied mind 



The breath of hill and heather. 

 Thou tearest from the hidden blue 



The webs by Furies tangled, 

 And sunny days thy steps pursue, 



Aoa nights with slars>re spangled ! 



Wind of the South ! O gent'e queen, 



Bright ward of guardians three, 

 In garments weft of sunbeam's sheen 



Thou trlppest daintily. 

 Thy bosom warms the timid flowers, 



Thy cheek the roses press, 

 And time glides by in golden hours,— 



O wind of happiness 1 



Wbpwoeth Wadsworth. 



For Forest and Stream and Sod and Gun. 



lawn th$ 



Jivei[-*>$0. 6. 



SPEAKING from a somewhat varied experience, I find that 

 luclr, whether good or bad, always comes in streaks. It 

 was so with me on this journey. Bad luck had been my 

 prevailing experience ever since I lost my money overboard 

 just below St. Louis. 



The cause of it all was rain, Ever since we started it had 

 rained on an average four or five times a week, not includ- 

 ing the light drizzlings. These showers caused the ruin of 

 an abundant supply of provisions, our clothes, our books, 

 and all things we especially wished to keep dry. ' 



We had expected to find game along the river, but game 

 was not to be found. A mud-hen and some Turkey buz- 

 zards were the only large living things we saw. Wood- 

 peckers and kingfishers were plenty, but the dish of wood- 

 pecker soup we tried did not captivate us sufficiently to in- 

 duce us to slaughter more of them. 



I find it difficult to describe the state of feeling with which 

 these privations finally filled me. I did not feel the pangs 

 of hunger so much us the loss of sleep for ten successive 

 nights, and the weakness attendant upon lack of nourish- 

 ment. One day, indeed the third of my fast, the craving of 

 my stomach for food was absolutely painful, but the next 

 day it was much modified. The feeling was one rather of 

 emptiness, and a kind of meditation— if the stomach ever 

 meditates— on the desirability of a square meal. My mouth, 

 from my being so long deprived of sleep, was opened in a 

 perpetual yawn, forming a cavity into which ou several occa- 

 sions flies and gnats entered on tours of discovery. My arms 

 and legs and back ached incessantly. My head also was 

 troubled with a dull, steady pain. During these four days, 

 too, the sun was terribly hot, and all we had to drink was 

 the river water, which, being scarcely one degree cooler than 

 our bodies, did not allay our thirst to any appreciable extent, 

 and it was only the taste of the mud mixed with it that pre- 

 vented every swallow from acting as an emetic. My real 

 condition can be best understood by the hallucinations which 

 followed, and which I am about to record. 



On the evening referred to in my last chapter I wrote let- 

 ters until the sun was within an hour of the horizon, and 

 then tied up my face and neck in a kerchief, and took my 

 carbine and pistol and started for the mud-hole where the 

 stranger had told us he had seen deer tracks plenty. The 

 route tended diagonally away from the river and through 



the thickest part of the woods. I found that the reputed 

 two miles were the genuine elastic article. The sun had set 

 before I reached the pond, and had it not, been nearly the 

 full of the moon I should have found it difficult to keep in 

 the right direction, for 1 had to pick and break my way 

 through all the tangled wildness of the virgin forest. 



After going about a mile I came to an opening in the 

 woods, in the centre of which was a slough filled with muddy 

 water, covering perhaps half an acre. Around this water, 

 stretching from its edge to the woods, was a belt of soft 

 mud, thinly sprinkled with grass, and on its outer edge piled 

 with dry sticks and brush-wood. 



This was not the pond I was seeking, for the man in the 

 skiff had told me that if I went iu the right direction I 

 would pass a smaller pond, which was evidently this one. 

 Hence I did not stop here, but merely glancing at the muddy 

 margin to see that no deer tracks were there, I kept on my 

 route. 



The sun had set by this time, and only the moon and stars 

 cast their light down through the openings in the cotton 

 wood and cypress leaves. This light, though bright as only 

 southern moonlight can be, had a mystifying effect, and the 

 shadows cast were so grotesque and weird, and the illumined 

 spots so deceiving, I feared for a while I should lose my way 

 in spite of all my out-door experience ; but I soon got used 

 to it, and found that by keeping an eye to the positions of 

 the stars I could easily keep in 'the right direction. 



After about an hour of this moonlight travel I arrived at 

 my destination. It was a large depressed opening in the 

 woods, which the constant rains had nearly filled, and there 

 being no way of escape save by evaporation the long- 

 standing water bad absorbed from the soil underneath a 

 brackish taste which attracted the deer. The opening in 

 the woods was circular in form, and contained perhaps a 

 dozen acres, all of which was water save a fringe of mud 

 about two rods in width. On this mud the clear moonlight 

 enabled me to discern several beaten paths leading from the 

 woods to the water. Some of the tracks in these paths were 

 quite fresh, and evidently made that afternoon. 



Near one of these paths I concealed myself in a patch of 

 underbrush, and waited for the deer to come. For two 

 hours at least I lay there with eyes and ears wide open, but 

 no sign nor sound rewarded my vigils save the dismal "jug 

 o' rum" of an occasional bullfrog, and the chirping of the 

 insects in the trees overhead. At times I thought I heard a 

 step in the grass or a rustling in the bushes, but it was prob- 

 ably only a falling twig or a night hawk circling overhead. 

 No antlered deer was reflected in the silvery sheen of that 

 silent water. At last nature could endure no more, and I 

 slept. For the first time in nearly two weeks the conditions 

 for slumber were all favorable, and before I was aware of it 

 I was folded tightly in the arms of the drowsy Morpheus. 

 When I awoke the moon was far from the spot where I had 

 last seen her, and the position of the Great Bear pointed to 

 an hour after midnight. The side of the lagoon nearest me 

 was cast in shadow, and the other side, and indeed where- 

 ever the moonlight fell, seemed wrapped in an almost im- 

 perceptible fog or mist, which gave to everything enveloped 

 by it a magnified and distorted appearance. At the same 

 time, it was not dense enough to wholly conceal its outlines. 

 I rubbed my eyes and walked out into the open. To tell the 

 truth, at the first sight of the strange lights and shadows 

 around me, I felt a coldness about my back and a weakness 

 about my knees that were not wholly caused by the last 

 week's privations. It did not seem at all like the place 

 where I had been when last awake. Every object wore a 

 dreamy hue, though I was certainly awake, and in the same 

 spot ; for behind me was the bush I had slept under, and in 

 front were the deer paths Ihad been trying to watch. These 

 objects being so near to me and in shadow, retained their 

 natural shape and size, but all else, while somewhat familiar, 

 was strangely altered in appearance. The pond stretched off 

 in the distance like the Atlantic Ocean, and yet everything 

 on the opposite side, though fearfully increased in size, was 

 easily distinguished. Eyen the nest of some large bird I had 

 noted in a dead tree was still visible, only looking to my im- 

 agination almost as large as a haystack. A spell of awe held 

 me like one transfixed. I was not frichtened, in the strict 

 sense of the word. I was perfectly cool and collected after 

 the subsidence of the first shock on awakening. 



At last I aroused myself sufficiently to pick up my gun and 

 start back toward the camp. I had no desire to lie longer in 

 ambush. If no deer had come to drink by this time— and 

 there were no new tracks to be seen— none probably would 

 come. Besides, I was beginning to feel uncomfortably 

 chilly; for between the dew and the mist I was enveloped in 

 a dampness which, though barely palpable, had the effect of 

 keeping me in a half-shivering condition. 



1 had uo difficulty in following the back track, for on com- 

 ing out I had taken the precaution to break off branches at 

 short intervals to guide me. I had not preceeded far when I 

 realized that I was again getting sleepy ; in fact. I was walk- 

 ing along like a somnambulist. On several occasions a bump 

 from a tree trunk, or a scratch in the face, recalled me to 

 full consciousness. I slapped myself and piuched myself, 

 but these expedients were of only transient profit; for, be- 

 fore 1 had walked a dozen yards, if I chanced to be crossing 

 an open space, I would become oblivious before I could 

 reach its opposite edge. Fortunately, however, I managed, 

 aa though by instinct, to keep in. the trail ; for every time I 



opened my eyes they fell on some object I had marked the 

 evening before. 



It was while I was in this condition that I reached the 

 smaller lagoon or mud-hole, which 1 had passed going in. 

 Indeed, I was half-way across the muddy margin "before I 

 knew it. I only remember that, as soon as I opened my 

 eyes, I was satisfied that I was going in the right direction, 

 and then I remember I came almost to a dead stop suddenly. 

 I stood almost transited with fright at what I saw on the op- 

 posite end of the lagoon. It was that sort of fright which 

 has lifted the hat or colored the hair of more than one nerv- 

 ous individual. The side of the pond where I stood was en- 

 veloped in shadow, the gloom extending half-way across the 

 pond. Beyond that the fog and the moonlight were producing 

 their wierdest effects ; trees and stumps were towering up- 

 ward to illimitable heights. But it was not the distortions 

 of the trees which frightened me. It was a row of objects- 

 ten of them — standing close together at the opposite end of 

 the lake. They seemed to be about fifteen feet high, by two 

 or three in breadth, and of a ghostly white color. At times 

 they moved about, silently as spectres are supposed to move, 

 one or another of them occasionally stooping as though to 

 touch the ground, or stretching out an arm on each side like 

 an old-fashioned guide-board. 



What in heaven's name were they! I could not guess. I 

 had never seen, nor heard, nor read of any objects of that 

 description. Had I been a believer In ghosts I should have 

 put them down as such, for they were exact facsimiles of the 

 regulation spook. But I do not, and did not, believe in 

 spirits of any kind, and though I could not help thinking of 

 ghosts at the moment, I did not entertain any suppositions 

 based on the supernatural. I knew, whatever the objects 

 were, they were perfectly natural and earthly, but, that 

 knowledge did not in the least modify the feeling of fear 

 which possessed me from the first moment of their discovery. 



I stood there, over my shoes in mud, for half an hour or 

 more, not daring to stir and hardly daring to breathe. To 

 continue en my route and enter the woods at the proper 

 place to strike the marked trail, I would have to pass within 

 two rods of the apparitions, and, hungry as I was, there was 

 never a bill of fare invented by man that would have tempted 

 me to do that. They might be harmless ghosts, or some 

 species of unknown, bloodthirsty, night-prowling monster, 

 but I could not, or would not, undertake to find out their 

 true character. It did at first occur to me to try the effect 

 of an ounce ball on their systems; but when I looked up at 

 their towering forms and counted their number — ten — 1 let 

 my carbine remain in the mud, where it had fallen at the 

 first shock of fear and surprise. 



For half an hour— an hour— an hour and a half, I should 

 judge, I stood there motionless, considering in vain what to 

 do, and trying to scrape up courage enough to do anything. 

 The spectres still preserved their silent, "mysterious' move- 

 ments, gliding slowly about at times, or flapping their arms 

 up and down. In these motions they created no noise that 

 was audible to me, and everything was so still I could dis- 

 tinctly hear the throbbing of my heart and the murmur of 

 my suppressed breathing. At last I could stand it no longer. 

 The suspense became unendurable. I began to feel that if I 

 staid and watched the strange figures much loneer I should 

 absolutely go crazy. I roused mvself by an enereetic effort 

 and determined to get away from the spot in some way. Up 

 to that moment I had rejected the plan of backing into the 

 woods, and under cover of their shadows skulking around 

 to the other side of the spectres, for fear that I might not be 

 able to strike the trail if I once deviated from it. Now, 

 however, that I could think of no other way, I determined 

 to run the risk of finding the blazed track. 



Keeping my eyes fixed on the ghosts, I lifted first one foot 

 and then the other gently out of the mud, and began walk- 

 ing backward toward the edge of the woods. I walked 

 backward because I could not for the life of me take my 

 eyes off those grim figures, which held my eaze riveted with 

 a horrible fascination. I went slowly and silently, so as not 

 to attract their attention. I believed they had not noticed 

 me. I had taken perhaps a dozen steps when I again came 

 to a pause— a pause as sudden as when 1 first discovered the 

 ghosts. Id my backward walk I had made better progress 

 than I had anticipated, and had reached one of the piles of 

 dry brushwood lying near the edge of the woods, and it was 

 a step, unavoidable in the darkness, on a dry stick that ex- 

 cited my alarm. I heard a rustliDg in the bushes, low at 

 first, and then a sound resembling the rattling of stiff grass 

 or dry beans in a pod. This was repeated again and again, 

 a foot or so distant, each time in a different spot, until I 

 realized that the enemies in the rear exceeded in number by 

 two the enemies in front. 



There was no mingling of the supernatural, however, with 

 the fear inspired by these rattling sounds. I knew well, or 

 thought I did. what they were. They were the warning 

 notes of that most dreaded of American reptiles, the Urotalug 

 horridus. In my backward flight from the ghosts on one 

 side I had run into a nest of rattlesnakes on the other, and 

 they were now hissing and squirming as if incensed at being 

 aroused from slumber, witbiu easy striking distance of my 

 heels. I felt the cold sweat bursting through the pores of 

 my skin, and the roots of my hair begin to work and stiffen. 

 With all the strength left in my legs I sprang forward to- 

 ward the pond. 1 followed one leap with another until my 

 feet suddenly ripped on the stock of my carbine, which, in 



