Terms, Four Dollars a Year, i 

 Ten *Jenta a Copy. j 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY. OCTOBER 12, 1876. 



J Volume 7, Number lO. 



1 17 Chatham 8<. ( City Hall 



qr.) 



For Forest and Stream. 



\onnt ^nr\^ M 0tt $ l JSM*^* 



BY EL CAZADOR. 



^JN cotrse, ole pard, a promise is a promise, an' ef 

 A you'l jes wait till I tech a chunck ov fier to my 

 pipe I'll talk that story to you Mike a doer in a walk.' " 



So sez Tom to me one nite on ike Praire Fork. We'd 

 lots ov meat in camp; hedn't bin doin' nulhin' but lofin' 

 all day long, and wuz lyin' on the blankets watchin' shoot- 

 in' stars an' not feeliu' like sleepin'. Now, I'd know'd 

 Tom a heap— a feller kind o' ruff like with men (I never 

 .see him speak to a woman), straite es a parm tree, lots ov 

 mussel, an' wiry, clean grit an' on the dead keen shoot; in 

 short, a man anuther man wud nacherally luv to tie to in 

 truble or out ov it, ef he know'd him. And stranger, you 

 kin jes ante up jo' l&stpeso I felt mighty curus when, arter 

 a minute or maybe two ov um, he onloosed a leetle string 

 frum round his neck an' tuk out ov his ole buckskin shirt 

 like a smailish possibul sak made out ov sum forrin sub- 

 stance, an' sowed to the string, which was buckskin. 

 Seein' I looked kinder flustrated a leetle mite, he sed, "yu 

 needn't be skeered, pardner. I ain't no Indyun, an' ef 

 this here is my 'medicine' it never hurt nobody but me," 

 an' openin a leetle sak he draw'd out an' guv inio my han' 

 •what it had in it— a gluv, a woman gluv of the kind they 

 calls kid; darkish in color, of the leetlest size, an' tore. 

 Lord! how funny it feeled as it kinder seemed tur nestle 

 down in the parm ov my han', a leetle soft thing like that, 

 up thar in the nite 'mong them tall pines an' ruff mount- 

 ins ! I farly luv'd to hold it, not tite, but gentle like, an' 

 Tom know'd it, fur when I gin it back he tuk my ole ruff 

 han' what hed two fingers chawed off, an' belt it in his'n 

 like a man mile hold a woman's han' what he luv'd. "Its 

 an ole story, pard," sez he, as we rested back in the shad- 

 der, "an' may up you know ho 'tis yourself." 



"Not very bad, sez I. I nuver keered fur nobody an' 

 nobody nuver keered fur me," (but I lied like a two-tongue 

 jaybird 'bout the first part ov my anser), pufiiu' like a 

 giser at my pipe, an' makin' up my mine not to chip till 

 he'd got dun an*ein'. 



Follerin' ov the trail, he perceeded:— 



"I don't reckolec' what I war doin' in particlar when I 

 first see hur, only thet it wur down on the Santa Clara. 

 I only had room fur seein' her an' feelin' happy. She didn't 

 see me. El she'd lukt me in the eyes I shud a gone wild 

 I war ded broke, travelin' afoot, packin' my blanket an' 

 eatin' chargui for a livin. Hoofin' it on beef an' water 

 don't do a feller's looks enny good, an' I war dirty, sick, 

 too, till I see hur. That day in the mountin I wur misse- 

 rable au' tired ov sich walkiu'. In the evening I wur 

 quicker than a antelope, stronger than a grizzly, happier 

 than a camp meetiu' at Los Nirlos, an' my left arm wur 

 broken. When I kum to myself arter seein' her I wur 

 walkin' down the rode, 'head up an' tale over the dash 

 bode,' as the sa>in' is, workin' my mine like litenin' chasiu' 

 a colt fur a plan fur a starter. Barrin' my six-shooter I 

 he in't a friend in the State, nor a dollar, only a blanket an' 

 a lot ov ole beef that I hated, but I felt like a man full ov 

 life an' endeavor, an' I wudn't a swapped places with a 

 king without it wuz to git near her; but I mought a saved 

 the truble ov planuin', fur a horse kum tarin' down the 

 rode like the devil, draggin' the feller what hed rode him 

 by a foot hung in a stirrup. By the hackeymore on his hed 

 instead ov a bridle I know'd he wuz b/onc/w, but I grabbed 

 him an' hung on 'like grim deth to a nigger,' thru the dust, 

 an' rarin an' plungin' till the nite seemed to kum mighty 

 sudden. I spose thet I fainted. When I woke I thought 

 sure I wuz 3leepiu' an' dremin', but pain in a arm an' my 

 hed changed my mine in a hurry, an' I cussed like that 

 man with the fever. I war lyin' on a hide in a jacal made 

 ov tule, es wet es buckskin, a ole woman porein' water on 

 my hed out'n a olla, an' sayin' prayers thet sounded like 

 crvjn'. The place full ov paisanoa talkin' an smokin'. 

 On* kneeled on the edge ov the rawhide holdin* a bottle, 



and I drunk near a pint ov aguardiente stronger than pison. 

 Arter fixin' up my arm an' tieu up my hed with trapo the 

 ole woman tole me thar hed been a fandanqo follerin' up a 

 rodeo at Don Peymundo's, that a son ov the ole man named 

 Arturo drinkt too much likker an' doin' sum fool riden fell 

 from a wild colt an' ketchin' his foot in a stirrup hed bin 

 killed mighty uearly; that thar wur a gal in the case I in- 

 furd, for she sed pobre muchacha; that follerin' the celt 

 they had found us, me an' Arturo, lyin' still in the rode, 

 me holdin' the hackymore, which wur broken; thet Arturo 

 hedn't spoke, but kep brethin'; thet they'd sent for a priest 

 an' a doctor, and wur I a christyun. Gust then Iheaid the 

 noise ov a waggin mixed in with sum sobbin' an' screemin', 

 but it sounded fur off an' peculiar. I got kinder dazed 

 like and sleepy. 



"Wakin' up, ^things hed changed like the mischief; 

 white walls all rouud me, but fur one winder in a room 

 whar candles wus burnin', revealin' white curtains; sum 

 flowers, a print ov the Virgin, while clost to a big green 

 aloe stood the girl I hed seen in the mornin', like that fawn 

 at the spring on the mountain! I tell you I lay thar au' 

 trembled while she moved wiih a step % soff es starlite acrost 

 to whar I wuz layin. Shut my eyes, yet could see her es 

 plainly, felt her hat tan my cheek es her ban' teched an' 

 cooled ihe hot pillow, saw her lips when she said pobrecito. 

 How she jumped when I spoke quesida mia y an' run callin', 

 Juan with a voice full ov lafier. In a minit the room wur 

 lull ov um, an' the ole man, his wife an' three darters, to 

 say nuthin' ov neighbors. They kum from Artero in the 

 nex' chamber, an' wuz all talkin', laflla' or cryin', an' 

 seemed to think I was a hero, fur sum reason, sayin' I hed 

 saved the life of Arturo, next to God, who had tole me to 

 grab tnat durn plug es he passed me, that all they hed was 

 mine, an' they wuz my servents, which last sayin'. thinking 

 ov her, I doubted. She never sed nuthin', but stood at the 

 foot oy the Ded mighiy quiet till one ov um called 'Gua- 

 dalupe.' The name sounded pleasant an' tender. 'Don't 

 you thank him?' Then I seed she wur cryin', not loud, 

 but like rain arter fall on the flowers, and she kum to the 

 hed ov the bed, but sed nuthin' till they all left the room, 

 a weak voice from somewhere callin' madre. Then she 

 bent her hed down and she kisst me; nuver sed a word, 

 but she kist me; a kiss like sunlite in the morning or a 

 shower of rane in the summer; kist me an' left me; but 

 all the nite long I wus happy, au' lay thar, not si epin' but 

 thinkin' ov her, an' ov home an' my mother, sum, maybe, 

 ov times in the mines, ov cards an' trubble on the day 

 when I shot poker Billy, or La Tarantala, an' the Killer. 

 But I thought ov the bad, like ov things that hed passed 

 me; but the good seemed to stick an' to promise. 



"Twar l.mg arter lite the next mornin' when Dolores of 

 the darters thet I've menshun'd, brote me my brekfast, an' 

 openin' the winder, filled the room with the smell ov sweet 

 flowers, fur the garden lay clost to the winder. Dolores, 

 kind-hearted an' pretty, with bar flowiu down to her ankles, 

 must a thought I war foolish, fur I confess that I felt dis- 

 apinted, an' maj be spoke cross like to that gentle critter, 

 but in a minnit I wur sorry, sed my hed hurt, when, in 

 fac' — well — I wur hungry an' begun eatin, but slowly, fur 

 I wanted to a-k her sum questyuus. Alter sum hestushun, 

 but keerless, I askt her, how wur Arturo, an' wur Lupe 

 her sister? Arturo much better, and that day kummin' to 

 see me; Lupe not yet; only thar on a visit with Don Juan, 

 her brother, the man what had found us, an' rode fur the 

 padre, thirty miles in an hour. 'Not yet!' I felt pale like, 

 quit eatin', while the soft voice tole the story how Arturo, 

 her brother, an Lupe, in three days would be married, but 

 now maybe the weddin', fur which all things wuz reddy, 

 would wait fur Arturo; thet they all loved thur brother; 

 thet I was his saver; thet thur father an' mother wanted 

 me when he'd left them for Lupe to take his place in thur 

 house an' the saddle, have charge ov tie cattle and horses 

 an' vineyard; when in kum Arturo, young and pale, but 

 man lookin', to thank me, he sed, fur life. I thought Gua- 

 dalupe. At first I was blind an' half chokin'— me who 

 hed lokt deth in the eyes without shrinkin' hed backt down 

 the committee at— but all thet is braggin'. I don a man's 



part at the last ov it, an' my voice sounded warm when I 

 tole him I wur glad I hed saved him, an' I tried hard to 

 feel it. Soon they seen I looked weary an' left me alone. 

 Fur a minnit I thought ov ray pistol; pard, fergive me! 

 twar only a minnit; I know twar unmanly. The day 

 seemed long till the evening, though they talkt an' sung to 

 me, fur she nuver come nigh me till evenin'. I heard she 

 wur goin' with Juan home, maybe to prepare for th^ wed- 

 din'; thet she hadn't yet gone L knowed, for Juan wur the 

 life of the part}', laft and talkt, tole stories 'bout love an' 

 ole missions, played the gittar, an' lookt sweet at Dolores. 

 Arturo, he mostly wur absent. In the cool ov the evenin' 

 ([ spose I'd been sleepin', for they'd leff me), dressed as if 

 fur a journey, pale and quiet, but tremUly, she came an' 

 *tood by me face to face, eyes meetin' an' speakin', I knew 

 that she knowed all about it, pale and trembly, but trien 

 hard to be brave an' speak clearly, in a voice like a whisper, 

 she tole me that on Friday at mid day she'd be married, 

 thet he wished it; she'd promised. Cryin', she rested her 

 hed on the pillow— ole man I can't talk much about it. I 

 staid till arter the weddin', but oneasy an' restless. She 

 fainted in front ov the altar. A sunstroke they called it. 

 [ wur wild, but father John stopped me. Arturo got jeal- 

 ous without reason, an' one mornin' with my aim in a 

 sling, but well mounted, I lit out for Los Angeles. 



"Goin' back? well I dunno, I'm afeard so. Stay with me 

 old man; yes I know you will. Thank you." 



-*♦♦■ 



For Forest and Straem. 



EARLY DAYS IN PENNSYLVANIA. 



BEING invalided by sickness an-I temporarily confined 

 to my room a friend had kindly loaned me several 

 numbers of your interesting publication, to assist in whil- 

 ing away the tedium and ennui of confinement for wlrch 

 the many delightful sporting and other sketches it details 

 have proved a most cheering antidote, especially so to one 

 who, in his younger days (40 to 50 years ago), was an en- 

 thusiastic disciple of both old Walton and his still older pre- 

 cursor, Nimrod. In those sporting days of 'iong ago" 

 your correspondent resided in the interior fastnesses (then) 

 of the good old Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, amid the 

 beautiful and romantic Alleghany Range, and just about 

 ihe central part of the State. At that comparatively early 

 period game of every description was very abundant in that 

 wild and unsettled region which then was on the outskirts 

 of civilization. "Going West" at that day meant to west- 

 ern Pennsylvania, or at the very furthest to the Ohio. The 

 now great northwest, with very slight exceptions, was al- 

 most a terra incoqnita to the rest of creation As early as 

 1825, I think lock pieces were of course the only ones 

 known, and but comparatively few were double guns. 

 Still, very fine specimens were to be hnd. especially of En- 

 glish manufacture, by such makers as Nock, Patrick, Man- 

 ion, etc. Their locks, barrels, stocks and general finish 

 would compare favorably even now with work of the pres 

 ent day, though of course the percussion principle, breech- 

 loading, and improvements made in the bores of modern 

 guns render them far superior in every respect to the an- 

 cient sporting pu-ce. In the part of Pennsylvania I have 

 spoken of, embracing the greater portion of the many 

 mountain tributaries of the west branch, ot the beautiful 

 Susquehanna river game of all kinds, four-footed and 

 winged, at that period and long after was very abundant. 

 Occasionally elk were kil.ed; deer could be found gener- 

 ally at any time and by still hunting at all seasons, but were 

 not sought for beyond the immediate wants of the few 

 scattered residents, as there was otherwise no market for 

 venison, two or three cents per p ouud being about the com- 

 mon value for the meat and skins. Bears and panthers 

 were very numerous. The writer has known of many as 

 four grown panthers being killed by a celebrated woods- 

 man and surveyor of Centre county, named Mitchell, in the 

 course of a couple of hours in following up a wounded 

 buck the ownership of which these denizens of the wilder- 

 ness tried to dispute with him. This was about 1830, In . 



