404 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Dec. 3D, 1888. 



came in sight of our shanty, some third of a mile away, but 

 did not, for that, relax our vigilance, hut started over the 

 last small rise between us and "camp as carefully as though 

 we were ten miles from home, and expecting to see a moose 

 every minute. Our patience and care were rewarded. As 

 we came to the brow of the little bluff overlooking the 

 shanty, then only 350 yards away, 1 saw below us a mys- 

 terious something, which, iii the then rather uncertain liglit, 

 was so near the color of the brush iu which it stood, that it 

 looked exactly like a big brownish hush, with a wisp of dry 

 giass on either side of it. 



"Don't that look like an old bull moose standing there 

 looking right at us?'' 1 whispered to Aleck. He slowly 

 nodded assent, and at that moment the wisps of grass moved ; 

 they were the horns of a moose — of the "big buck" whose 

 death I had been prattling to Joe about for a week past. I 

 jerked off my mitten with my teeth, and as the moose turned 

 broadside, clapped the gun to my shoulder and tired, iti- 

 stautly pumping in another cartridge. Two steps to the 

 right took him out of sight behind a clump ol green spruce 

 and balsam, but a moment after he appeared again, having 

 turned back, going from right to left, when I gave him a 

 second shot, and just as he entered a thicket of brush tired a 

 third, which had little chance to reach him on account of 

 the mass of stuff intervening. Hardly had he got out of 

 sight when down he pitched with a crash. "lie's down! 

 Now you got the big bull, eh!" cried Aleck, his dark eyes 

 wild with excitement. "1 hit him the first shot," 1 replied, 

 "lie wouldn't have gone fifty yards if I had fired no morel" 



Aleck looked over the ground. "That's a long shot. I 

 couldn't do that. You kill him more'ntwo hundred yards 

 off," he exclaimed. 



"I don't think it is that far," I said, "it may be a hundred 

 and fifty;" but when we had gone about half way to the 

 moose, I looked back and said we had already come a hun- 

 dred yards. Afterward I measured the distance, and found 

 the first shot two hundred and ten yards, one foot; the second 

 two huudred and twenty yards. When we reached our moose 

 and examined him, he turned out to be just what I wanted, 

 a big bull, while the horns were not too unwieldy to hang 

 up, spreading only three feet two inches, but were heavy, 

 very even, and handsome, 



"Yqu don't get 'em any bigger than that," Alex said after 

 looking him over; "You hunt a long while to see another 

 one so big." I measured him as he lay and found his height 

 at the shoulders 6 ft ; girth of body, 7' 7" : length from base 

 of horns to rump, 7' i". On opening the moose to clean it, I 

 found the first shot had broken a rib on the right side as it 

 went in, and had lodged under the skin on the opposite side; 

 the second had entered the left side, gone clenu through and 

 out near the entrance, of the first. The aorta was cut and 

 the animal fell dead without a kick. We could not have 

 devised a better ending to our day's hunt, for our game lay 

 within a hundred and fifty yards of camp, to which we 

 presently repaired to cook, eat," smoke and sleep, careless as 

 to what 'the weather might be next day. 



In the morning we turned out early, breakfasted and 

 packed up our things, leaving some in the shanty, as Aleck 

 had the head and horns to carry. I had the head uu jointed 

 from the neck, and as much flesh cut from the back of it as 

 we could get at, but it made a good load; then put a tent 

 and blanket under it to make it soft to Aleck's back, for 

 when I weighed it. next day at the railroad station it weighed 

 :8.;- pounds. 



We got out to civilization that evening and my friend Mr. 

 P. was delighted to find that I had obtained a shot. Could 

 he have kept well he might have had one too, which would 

 have completely rounded off our trip. As it; was, we could 

 say much more' truthfully than was often said in the army, 

 "The objects of the expedition having been accomplished, 

 the whole command returned safely to camp," and so left for 

 home the next (Wednesday) morning, Oct. 24. 1 took a short 

 cut by Albany and New York, and reached Washington at 

 8 A, M., Friday, the, 20th. 



And now let me say a word about hunting. I have some- 

 times been laughed at by friends whom I happened to have 

 in the woods with me for insisting so strenuously upon 

 silence; upon doiug things quietly, not only while actually 

 out hunting, but "in and about camp. I invariably shut 

 down on the whistling, singing and hallooing creature, if I 

 stumble across one, and if 1 could build a shanty and keep 

 up a tire without the stroke of an ax», it would please me. 

 1 say that iu a wild country one wants to be as quiet as its 

 denizens to get all the chances. Due regard being had to the 

 handiness of wood and water, I like to put my camp where 

 it will least disturb the game, but while this may not put it 

 in the most likely spot for seeing game, the sits is just as wild 

 as any other part of the woods, and if I keep quite I may see 

 any of the various beasts or birds that belong to the region. 



] remember well camping on the Ord Stillwater of the 

 North River in the Adirondack?, with Mitch. Sabattis in 

 1859. We got to camp about 5 P. M., and although we 

 went several times to a little run, which emptied into the 

 river some thirty or forty yards from our fire, to get water, 

 wash, etc., yet 'we were so quiet, that when it got dark 

 enough and we started out to float, intending to cross the 

 river, there was an old buck standing at the mouth of this 

 run where he could not help but see our fire light, although 

 1 think it would have puzzled him to hear us. After we had 

 done laughing at the sudden way he went off when we were 

 not ejecting anything, we crossed the river, I killed a buck 

 not over 300 yards from cam]), and we were back at our fire 

 in less than half an hour. 



On another occasion, half a dozen years ago, I went with a 

 companion to "Rock Camp" to lie out and look for bears. 

 It was after dark when we got near it, but instead of going 

 noisily and carelessly we went so quietly that our little 

 shepherd dog routed out a panther from our bed when we 

 were uot twenty steps off. I was camping last year with 

 some friend* in' the same region and we killed a deer within 

 forty yards of camp. If I aud my Indian had relaxed our 

 vigilance and stopped hunting when we eame in sight of our 

 shanty, we should have got no moose that day. 



To "the beginner who wishes to become a still-hunter I 

 would say therefore, be a still hunter; make no more noise 

 in the woods or about your camp, than the deer or moose do 

 about (heir haunts; get in the habit of doing everything 

 quietly and you will never regret it. I do not like to hear 

 two or three fellows singing or laughing and "going on" 

 when I am half a mile from camp, or perhaps twice that far 

 across a pond, but I do like to feel, as I step across the threshold 

 of my shaulv, that the day's hunt is not quite over un- 

 til I have turned and taken a' last look around, to see that an 

 old buck is not standing on the opposite hillside, watohing 

 me. 



If 1 were advising one who wished to kill a deer but did 

 not kuow what sort of a hunter he ought to be 1 would say; 



"Do not hound. Do not carry a cannon into the woods 

 when an ordinary rifle will do." A very little experience 

 will show the reason for the first prohibition ; the second is 

 given because it is much better to depend on one's shooting 

 than on the gun. There is just as much sense in suiting the 

 gun to the game as in suiting the rod to the fish. T don't 

 want a gun that will kill a deer if it shoots anywhere within 

 ten feet of it, all that I care for is one that will kill it at 

 any ordinary range if I hit it in the right place. 



C. Clav. 

 Washington, D. C. 



THE WILD BULL OF BIG TIMBER. 

 A Christmas Yarn. 



BY SENECA. 



T\7"A8 there ever a township so poverty-stricken, so utter- 

 t T ly worthless and good-for-nothing as that of Meadow- 

 marsh? For the sake of the human family I hope not. Its 

 marshes and bogs, partially submerged each spring by the 

 river, would grow no crops but the bright green grasses ami 

 the tall cat-tails; its river was too small for commerce and too 

 sluggish for water-power mills ; its Big Timber swampjwas 

 as inaccessible for lumbering purposes as if it had been in 

 Patagonia, on account of the treacherous bogs, and as far as 

 trade was concerned, bless you, there wasn't any money to 

 purchase with. How, then,' did the Meadowma'rshers em- 

 ploy themselves? 

 Well, for one thing, they fiddled. 



From Big Lick to Banca'basha, all along the river, at every 

 festive occasion, from a husking bee to a real shake-down, 

 the entertainment was considered'ineomplete unless a "Med- 

 dermasher" and his home-mode fiddle composed the orches- 

 tra. The women even were performers, and the first play- 

 thing put into the hands of the young was a violin. 

 For another thing, they fished. 



Some aver that fiddling aud poverty go hand in hand. 

 Others declare that fishing'and penury are twins. But when 

 both fishing and fiddling are combined in the same person, 

 woful, indeed, must be his indigence, if these authorities 

 are to be credited. And I am bound to say that the Meadow- 

 marshers were a living proof of the soundness of the doc- 

 trine. 



Besides these occupations they cut flag from the marshes 

 in autumn, which, when dried and bundled, was floated 

 down the river to Nazareth and sold for making baskets and 

 chair bottoms; and occasionally they hunted, but only when 

 they needed meat or fur, and in this latter pursuit the'women 

 were as valiant, if not as skillful, as the men. You might 

 meet in the Big Timber the father of a family, tall, gaunt, 

 his sunken cheeks and yellow skin telling of perpetual ague, 

 his long, matted hair surmounted by a greasy 'coon-skin cap, 

 his body encased in a hickory shirt" and tattered homespun 

 that was always too brief in the arms and legs, aud his feet 

 shod with heavy cowhide boots; and in a minute's walk you 

 would perhaps "encounter his better half, also tall and gaunt, 

 with the same sign of ague, the same long, matted hair, the 

 same greasy 'coon-skin headgear, the same tattered and brief 

 homespun.'the same cowhide boots, and mayhap the same 

 hickory undergarment. Each would certainly be possessed 

 of a formidable "smooth-bore" of astonishing caliber, and 

 each would surely he puffing smoke through the elder stem 

 of a corncob pipe. 

 Now to our yarn. 



The snow was drifted in huge, odd-shaped masses on the 

 Meadowmarsh Hats, and lay on a level in the Big Timber, 

 where it was protected from the wind. The river presented 

 a plain surface of ice, with only occasional drifts of snow 

 and frequent protruding fyke-poles to break its monotony. 

 It was the day before Christmas, the sun shone warm, and 

 old Joel Doubleday, as he ploughed through the drifts to- 

 ward his shanty, removed his 'coon-skin cap, wiped his per- 

 spiring brow with it, and remarked that he considered the 

 state of the weather a "plum good sugarin' thaw, only too 

 airly in the season." Reaching his own bark-thatched log 

 shaulv. Joel kicked the snow from his boots, pushed open 

 the door, stooped low aud entered. A single ray of light 

 that struggled through the one pane of glass that served as 

 a window revealed the sole room of the domicile in its indi- 

 gent nakedness; the stone fire-place, so awkwardly con- 

 structed that it seem«d in imminent danger of toppliug over, 

 the rough, square table, the two or three flag-bottomed 

 chairs, the ancient bedstead, and the home-made affair dig- 

 nified by the name of "lounge," aud iu remarkable contrast 

 to the general poverty of the equipment, in the brightest 

 corner, with shining, varnished case and glittering keys, a 

 melodeon. A woman, thin, angular, with deep, sunken 

 eyes and lowering brows, lifted a blazing bough from the 

 fire to light her cob pipe as her lord entered. 



"Where's Tilly?" asked Joel, peering about the room. 

 "SheV Brother Simplesweet is gone to bony Minervy 

 Jones's sam book." 



"Is thet chicken-livered, funeral-faced missionary here 

 agin?" 



"Parson Simplesweet is here, Joel Doubleday, an' what s 

 more, he's goin' to stop over Christmas," answered his wife 

 severely. 



"An' what is Parson Simplesweet a-goin' to put into his 

 dear delicut stommik, Rebecky?" 



"Elijah was fed by ravens," said the wife. 

 "But there ain't no ravens in this 'ere deestrict, Rebecky; 

 an' a man that sot still a-waitin' for ravens to feed him here- 

 abouts wouldn't look very chipper at the eend of the fust 

 week. The pint is just here: we've et the last later, the 

 'lasses has gi'n out, the corn an' grease is all gone, an' all 's 

 left is some cold samp to feed four on Christmas day. We 

 might as well make up our minds to go to the county house 

 I s'pose ye know that to-day a week there's got to be fivi 

 dollars paid on that 'ere music trap," pointing to the melo- 

 deon, "an' where them said five dollars is comin' from Lord 

 only knows. Rebecky, that 'tarnal piece of foolishuess has 

 ben" our ruination. Why couldn't Tilly be satisfied with a 

 fiddle, like the rest of the gals, instead of wantin' that pesky 

 box, that won't play nothin' but sam-tunes, anyway? Here 

 we be with nothin' to eat, an' thet thing has cost enough to 

 feed us on beef-meat a year. Kin we eat a melodeon? No. 

 An' when we can't pay "the five dollars on it next week, away 

 it goes, an' all we've paid up on it, too. As fer thet snivel- 

 lin' parson, 1 shell open his eyes to our suckumstanc.es, an' 

 tell him plum straight thet his room is more agreeable than 

 his company." 



"Yom'll do nothin' of the kind, Joel Doubleday," inter- 

 rupted Rebecca. "Brother Simplesweet shell be told that 

 our supplies is gi'n out, but I shell welcome him to sheer 

 with us what little we hcv. " 



"Here comes the varmint," said Joel, turning from the 



window. "I do hope Gruff is loose summers 'round the 

 shanty." 



"Iiied to turn the soap kittle over onto the dog, when 

 Brother Simplesweet come,'' said Rebecca, laving her pipe 

 aside. ' 'H I hadn't, I believe he would have et up the parson." 



"He, he, he!" chuckled Joel, "thet ■ purp's a wise un. Pa- 

 laver can't come it over him." 



"Good evening, Brother Doubleday,'' said a meek-looking 



an of about thirty, dressed entirely 'in black, who just then 

 pushed open the door and entered. "I hope that your bodily 

 health is good?" 



"Tol'able, parson," growled Joel. 



"Oh, pa," cried a very freckled, but buxom young wrmian 

 w r ho accompanied the parson, "we seen the wil'd hull.'' 



Instantly the old man turned to his daughter, his little 

 gray eyes dancing with excitement, Tbett strivingto ippiii 

 calm, he said, in an indifferent tone of voice, Yes, did ch? 

 An' how do ye know it was the bull, Tilly?" 



'"Cause it "was coal black all over, pa, an' only had one 

 horn, that was shaped exactly like a letter S. It stood in 

 the snow right on the edge pi the Big Timber, an' looked at 

 us. An' then it give a snort like, an' took to the Timber with 

 its tail sticken' up." 



"Oh, Joel," said his wife, "won't ye try onst more to kill 

 at critter? Think how we need that mot 

 of the meat, an' the hide' an'- 



that. 



money. An' think 



"Rebecky," interrupted the old man. -ye don't know what 

 ye say. Sence the day when Square Brist'ow's boy was found 

 ;ored to death in the Timber, an' the Square offered twenty 

 lollars to the man thet'd fetch him the crooked born of the't 

 bull, every man in Meddermash has tried to kill the critter. 

 I've drawed on him time tin' agiu tit live rod, an' fired right 

 betwixt his eyes. An' there he has stood an' laughed at me — 

 yes, by gosh, laughed at me to my race, sneerin' like. Ite- 

 "becky" I've quit, That critter am' no cattle; he's the devil." 



'Oh, pa!" remonstrated Tilly, "how kin you?" 



'And the devil was cast into the lake of tire and brim- 

 stone, where the beast and the false prophet are," said the 

 parson, lifting his eyes and clasping his hands. 



"An' it's my opinion," remarked Joel, "thet this 'ere is the 

 identikle beast mentioned in Sprinter, fer he's sarlinly so 

 used ter fire an' brimsttiu thet he don't mind powder and 

 lead." 



'Wal, Joel, ye're so sot in yer mind thet there's no use o' 

 arguyin' with ye," said his wife, "so light the candle; and 

 you." Brother Simplesweet, draw up a cheer, We liaim 

 nothin' but cold samp ter eat, an' thet's the truth: but I 

 s'pose there's some 'd be glad to hev even thet, so we oxter be 

 thankful." 



"Verily, Sister Doubleday, I would 1 were able to offer 

 you the material aid that my heart desires; but 1 can at least 

 send up the prayers of my very soul in your behalf." re- 

 sponded the parson. 



The simple meal dispatched, and the actual indigence of 

 the family made fully known to the parson, this good man 

 endeavored by every argument to induce Joel to attempt 

 once more the capture of the bull, even offering tu aceom 

 pany him in the hunt, but the harder the parson plead, the 

 stronger was Joel's negative, till, out of all patience, the 

 former said : 



"1, then, will strive to slay this beasl to-morrow. Un- 

 suited to my calling as is the bearing of arms, to relieve the 

 distress of two Christian women thereby is no sin, I am sure. " 



"All right, parson,'' said Joel, -There's three guns a-hang 

 in' on the pegs— mine and Becky's an' Tilly's. Ye kin take 

 yer pick, an' I hope ye'll fetch yer hide hack on yer bones." 



"Very well, my good but perverse friend. Aud now those 

 who wish to wilf unite with me in a final prayer for heavenly 

 aid before retiring will prepare. We will first sing a hymn." 



At this Joel muttered something about "chores to do," lit 

 his pipe anil stepped out in the "air. Here he sniffed the 

 breeze, looked at the stars and sky. and then lifted the huge 

 iron kettle that confined the dog. "Graft," said he, as an 

 attenuated, nondescript cur crawled forth, "Gruff, it strikes 

 me thet it's a-goin' ter freeze harder'n a brick house to-night. 

 An' ef it does,' Gruff, there'll be a crust in the moruin' tliet'll 

 hold up you an' me, but it won't hold up no wild bull. D'ye 

 git my drift, Gruff, eh?" 



The cur wagged his tail, rubbed up against Joel's leg, and 

 uttered alow whine. "An' Gruff." resumed Joe, "Ef we 

 don't git Mouusheer Bull, an' ye see any two-legged var 

 mint in store clo'es an' wearin' a funeral face traipsin' 

 through the Timber ye est tr ■: thet add varmint will 'fi, ■■' 



To this Gruff answered by a joyful bark, and jumped up 

 in the air in evident glee. 



When Joel re-entered the shanty a blanket^ was hung 

 across the room, dividing it in half. On the one side the two 

 women preparing to retire, aud on the other the. parson sal 

 on the lounge examining, in an awkward manner, one of the 

 guns. After directing the h»ly man to turn in on the lounge 

 Joel rolled himself in a blanket on the floor before the fire, 

 and was almost immediately snoring a bass solo. 



The first streak of dawn had apt appeared when Joel rose 

 carefully to his feel without waking the parson, settled his 

 'coon skin cap firmly on his head, pulled the strap about his 

 waist tighter, reached his long-barreled "smooth-bore" from 

 its pegs, and quietly stole out of the shanty. The frost 

 seemed io bite and contract his nostrils as he breathed the 

 morning air. He tried the crust with his heels, and found it 

 would bear his weight. "Here, Gruff!" he called iu a low- 

 tone, and the great skeleton of a cur crept from beneath the 

 shanty and followed at his heels. Like two dim ghosts the 

 two sped over the level meadow toward the black mass of 

 forest. The crust was firm, and the distance was covered 

 quickly. "No use lookiu' fer tracks, Gruff.'' said ihe old 

 man. ' "It's snowed right smarl sence Tilly seen the critter, 

 but the varmint won't go fur away from the open as long as 

 there ain't no fodder bare in the Timber, so you keep yer 

 eye pulled, purp, an' we'll run agin him afore the sun's an 

 hour high." 



It was yet dark in the dense forest, but Joel knew the 

 Timber well and the cur scoured the brush like a trained 

 hunter as they moved along near the outskirts. Every bush 

 and uprooted stump loomed up in the darkness like a gigan- 

 tic bull, but Joel knew Ihe old dog would give tongue as 

 soon as the beast was sighted, and held his gun in readiness 

 for instant use, while he devoted all his energy to avoid trip- 

 ping over the trailing vines and thick underbrush. I >u. cm 

 they went, the surroundings becoming more distinct as the 

 sun appeared, but still Gruff was silent. "Caw! caw' caw!" 

 hoarsely cried some frightened crows disturbed from their 

 roost iu a tall tamarack. "Dod rot their pictures!" muttered 

 the old man, "thafs bad luck,to begin on. Here purp' 

 we've sartincome a mile, aud the critter must be deeper in 

 the Timber. We'll break furder inter this wilderness an' 

 take a back track." 



Back again over a deeper belt of forest they went to the 



