FOREST AND STREAM. 



307 



hold just what you have got, and no more, until I get on to 

 the edge of the bank, in say five or six feet of water, I will 

 put io an argument from Ballard, no particular book or 

 page, hut the whole length of the barrel. But he wouldn't 

 doit. Just as I got where I could seethe bottom, and 

 began to gloat over the satisfaction I would take out of 

 him for the way in which he had annoyed me, by sending 

 a 46 bullet crashing through his old skull, without one 

 parting flap of his tail,, by way of warning, he let himself 

 settle down into the deep water, and like the crabs, silently 

 stole away. I was mad. 



To illustrate the way sharks follow up a trail of blood, I 

 will tell a little story which is current on this coast, but 

 which I don't vouch for, although I believe. A party of 

 Dagos and Creoles, some five or six in number, in some 

 way caught a porpoise, which they took to the North 

 Channel at Egmonte Key, a little outside of the light, and 

 near the outside point. They arrived there just before 

 sunset, and got everything fixed for work before dark. 

 Their plan was to cut the porpoise up in small chunks, in 

 a dug out canoe they had, throw water upon it plentifully 

 to soak out the blood, and then, when the tide turned out, 

 throw over a bucket full of this bloody water occasionally, 

 which would be taken by the tide out towards the outer 

 bar. Sharks seem to be especially found of porpoise, 

 more so even than of mullet, and by using pieces of it 

 for bait, these men succeeded in this way in taking one 

 hundred and eight large sized sharks in that one night. 

 They did not stop to play their fish at all, but all hands 

 would lay hold of the line' when they had a bite, and drag 

 him nolens wtens ashore. It must have been sight worth 

 coming some distance to see, to take a look at that pile of 

 sharks on the beach next morning. The livers alone are 

 used, and from them a fair quality of oil is obtained. I 

 used to put the carcass in the compost heap. 



My plan of fishing was a little different from that of the 

 Dagos. I never was strong handed enough to take a big 

 shark out on the beach by main strength. Seldom had 

 more than one assistant, and to make up for want of 

 muscle, brought brains to bear. In the Big Sarasota Pass 

 there were a number of large palmettos, and I used to 

 attach a single block to several of them (snatch blocks 

 would have been handier, but I did not own one), and when 

 we had a bite, would lead the line through the block which 

 happened to be nearest, and then both taking hold of it, 

 would go off down the beach on the run (if we could), and 

 with much ground and lofty tumbling, Mr. Shark would 

 travel up to the tree. One of us would take a turn of the 

 line around another tree, while the other would kill him 

 with an axe, or, if he was too large and vigorous with his 

 tail, would try and see how near he could come to hitting 

 the back bone with a rifle ball. 



Very good sport can be had in any of the passes in 

 South Florida waters, even during the winter months. 

 The best hook is one of medium sized, well tempered steel, 

 attached to not less than a fathom of strong chain. I have 

 seen a hook made of three-quarter-inch round iron, hard- 

 ened as hard as iron could be, drawn out perfectly straight 

 by a shark, and if the hook had been of full one-inch iron, 

 I think it would have fared just as badly. Besides that, 

 these iron hooks are too large and clumsy. A float of 

 some kind is often needed just to keep the bait off the 

 bottom, and, as in rapid tide-ways, the float and bait would 

 be soon drifted in shore, if the inshore end of the line was 

 made fast, I throw out into the stream, and then walk 

 along opposite, with the line in hand. The assistant has 

 the very end in his hand, ready to pass it through the 

 block when you first notice a bite, and he takes up the 

 slack, if any, as fast as possible, until when well hooked 

 I join him, and the fun begins in earnest. 



Major Sarasota. 



For Forest and Stream. 

 ROUGHING IT IN CANADA. 



THE following notes of a vacation spent in the back- 

 woods of Ontario, may be of interest to the readers 

 of Forest and Stream. Our party, consisting of "Uncle 

 Charlie" D., the writer, with "Eddie," cook and caretaker 

 of the camp, with three good hounds, left Hamilton early 

 in October, taking the Toronto & Nipissing Railway to 

 Coboconk. By the courtesy of the General Manager we 

 were enabled to take our canoes along with us, on the 

 mail train, and were thus saved a day's delay at 

 Coboconk. For this and other favors, extended to our 

 party, we owe him our hearty thanks. From Coboconk, 

 north, we had about two and a half days canoeing; and 

 here let me say, that for a trip of this kind there 

 is nothing equal to a good board canoe, of the Peter- 

 borough or Rice Lake, pattern. They carry a large load, 

 are much safer, especially on the lakes, run much faster, 

 and are almost as light to "carry" as a Birch Bark. 



At Elliotts Falls, wjiere mine host Leary, is always 

 r eady to furnish a substantial meal to the hungry way- 

 farer, we were joined by "Toasty" and "Med," two 

 others of our party who had come in a day or two ahead. 

 They were fortunate enough to kill a fine buck on Gull 

 Lake the day before. Leaving the head at Leary 's to be 

 called for on our return, we paddled up Gull Lake, a fine 

 sheet of water about eight miles long, and from one to five 

 miles wide, with several islands in it. This is the first 

 Jake on the route, which contains any quantity of lake 

 trout. ^ At this^season the trolling is excellent, the fish 

 averaging about seven pounds. At Minden our supplies 

 are procured; then a. 12 mile drive over a backwoods road, 

 brings us to "Ka-sha-ga-wig-a-mog" Lake. Another long 

 tf a y'a paddle, and we arrive at our intended camping 



ground, Lake "Pe-pe-wau-be-kung." Our trip up was not 

 all fair sailing; we had strong and cold north and north- 

 west winds, with several flurries of snow. Large flocks of 

 wild geese passed us going south, in one of which we 

 counted 105. At Trading Lake "portage," or "carry," we 

 lost two of our dogs; then on Raven Lake "Uncle Charlie" 

 and "Eddie's" canoe filled and swamped. Eddie struck out 

 for the shore manfully, and reached it in an exhausted state, 

 while Uncle Charlie, having a very valuable English gun, 

 did not like to let it go without an effort. He managed to 

 swim 15 or 20 yards with it, but there being a heavy sea on 

 and the gun weighing 12 pounds, he was compelled to let it 

 go, after he had been down twice, and had not Toasty and 

 Med came up in their canoe, it is propable Charlie would 

 have gone after it. We fished the gun out the next day. 



We were joined at Lake Pe-pe-wau-be-kung by our 

 hunters, "Andrew" and his son, with two dogs. A few 

 hours after our arrival Uncle Charlie was recalled home 

 on account of sickness by a telegram, forwarded from 

 Minden by special messenger. Charlie left the next morn- 

 ing with the messenger, very much to our regret. The 

 same day being the first really fine day we had, Toasty 

 and Med brought home to camp a fine yearling buck. The 

 two following days were cold and stormy, we could not get 

 out on the lake and were two indolent to travel through 

 the bush (which is here very rough and rocky) for par- 

 tridge, which are very plentiful. We put in the time mak- 

 ing the camp comfortable— making a hemlock bed for 

 those of our party who were not so fortunate as to have a 

 camp lounge, extemporizing stools, a table, &c. Speaking 

 of the camp lounge reminds me that it was first thought of, 

 talked over and decided on, by our genial friend G. J. Bar- 

 ker, of Massachusetts, the inventor, some three years ago, 

 when he was camped with us on Raven Lake— and a great 

 luxury they are. The weather moderating somewhat 

 the next day, we started two of the dogs, but the deer did 

 not come into the lake. On our return to camp, we found 

 Uncle Charlie and another friend, "Scripture," from Ham- 

 ilton. On his arrival at Minden Uncle Charlie received a 

 second telegram announcing great improvement at home, 

 and that he need not return. Almost the first person he 

 had met at Minden, was our friend Scripture, who was 

 then on his way up to join us. 



The next day we started the dogs and they brought in a 

 fine doe, which was captured by old Scripture. In the 

 afternoon, we missed a race. The next morning the dogs 

 started early, D. and I were watching at the head of an 

 Island, and improved the time by catching 14 fine lake 

 trout, when, about giving up all chance for a deer to come 

 in, we saw with a glass the two dogs on the shore about 

 two miles down the lake and concluding that the deer must 

 be swimming, if not already across, we put out in the direc- 

 tion we supposed it would be by that time, and after a 

 hard and exciting paddle of fully two miles, against a 

 strong head wind, D. finished the race with a couple of 

 charges of buck shot— making doe No. 2., weighiug about 

 120 pounds. We trolled for an hour in the afternoon and 

 added eight more trout to our string. Not a bad day's 

 work. 



Some of our party having came across some fresh tracks 

 on Bear Island, we tried to get a start there the next morn- 

 ing, but without success. Taking the d»gs over to the 

 north shore about 11 o'clock, they were off in five minutes 

 and after circling around three times, went off out of hear- 

 ing for over an hour, and probably took the deer to Fletcher's 

 Lake, wheie we had no watcher. On their back track, 

 they got another start, and after about an hour of their 

 exhilerating music, D. and I heard something crashing 

 through the bush near our watching ground, then take the 

 water, swim across a Marrow cove, only about 100 yards, 

 and apparently land on a bold rocky point. Then the dogs 

 came down to the shore, giving splendid tongue. We 

 heard something scramble up the rocks, paddled over 

 there, but could find no trace of anything having landed. 

 Thinking we must have been mistaken (we were nearly 

 half a mile from the point where we heard the noise,) we 

 gave the usual signal, and got the party together for din- 

 ner. After talking the matter over with Andrew, and not 

 feeling quite satisfied with tLe result of the morning's hunt 

 we went after dinner to the point for another, and closer 

 inspection; searched around pretty thoroughly. D. dis- 

 covered a large cave. When about giving it up for a bad 

 job, I fancied I saw some traces of a recent disturbance on 

 an old fallen tree about 30 feet higher up the bluff; climbed 

 up there with the aid of a paddle, when up jumped a noble 

 buck from behind a large boulder, not ten feet from me. 

 Not stopping a moment to inquire why he was disturbed, 

 away he went down the rocks with a perfect rush and into 

 the lake. Scripture being in the best position, got to him 

 first, and dispatched him with the third charge of buckshot. 

 He proved to be a fine fellow indeed. On our way home 

 we weighed him at Coboconk. After being dressed and 

 his head off (the latter, Scripture's trophy) he turned the 

 scales at 205 pounds. 



Andrew, not placing much reliance on our "wild goose 

 story," had taken the dogs out into the bush to try and get 

 a fresh start after dinner, so hauling the buck out on a 

 rock, we made for our various watching posts. Toasty 

 and Med, who went over to Fletcher's Lake, were rewarded 

 for their extra trouble by the deer coming in there about 

 5 p> m ._nearly dusk. They practiced at it with a revolver, 

 but had to use a Ballard to finish it, this being doe No. 3. 

 We did not get back to camp until after 7 o'clock, having 

 had a long but glorious day of it. 



Our time being limited, and having lost so much on our 

 way up, and by the unfavorable weather on our arrival, we 



were reluctantly compelled to pull up stakes and make a 

 start for home the following morning. We found that 

 although we had managed to use up pretty thoroughly our 

 stock of groceries, flour, &c, our load was considerably 

 increased on the downard trip. This was especially felt to 

 be the case on the portages, which vary from 20 yards to 

 two miles in length, there being two of the latter and several 

 of from a quarter to a half a mile long. These were not 

 considered serious obstacles, however. The increased 

 strength and buoyancy of feeling, that we had gained, by 

 a' two week's life of constant exercise and activity in that 

 pure and bracing air, together with the throwing off of all 

 business cares, or anxieties, seemed to have infused 

 new life into us, and made us almost sigh "for new worlds 

 to conquer." 



Only those who have spent a few weeks in the wilder- 

 ness, entirely away from telegraphs, post offices, and news- 

 papers, with a few right good fellows, who are determined 

 to make the best of everything, and enjoy themselves in a 

 rational way, to their utmost, can fully appreciate the 

 pleasures of a trip of this kind . And here let me say a 

 word in honor of dear old Uncle Charlie, who was always 

 brimful of good humor, and the life of the camp; and 

 our friend D., who always had a song, or a story to enliven 

 the pleasant hours spent around the camp fire, or over a 

 friendly game of euchre in the evening. I have made one 

 of a party, to go "out back," as we call it in Canada, mean- 

 ing out in the back woods, or as some of our American 

 friends have put it, "out in the wilderness," every year, 

 for the past 13 years, and can safely say that this has been 

 by no means the least enjoyable one. I trust that many of 

 the readers of Forest and Stream may be enabled to 

 "go and do likewise" next fall, and can assure them that 

 there are hundreds of such places in Canada, where the 

 sport is excellent, the scenery magnificent, and where the 

 true sportsman and gentleman, will meet with a hearty re- 

 ception from the few and scattered settlers and hunters. 



a. 



A FOX HUNT 



For Forest and Stream. 

 IN VERMONT. 



WE were up and off bright and early, and the sun 

 showing himself over the long ranges of the 

 Green Mountains found us on our hunting grounds. 



There were three of us, with two hounds, Gabriel and 

 Trumpet (Gabe and Trump for short), the first of whom 

 had run many a member of the Reynard family to his 

 death, the latter a younger dog, but a worthy follower of 

 his elder companion; and we had chosen this bright morn- 

 ing in the the Indian summer, when the hoar frost hung 

 heavy on the long grass in the lowlands, and the fallen 

 leaves in the woods were fully damp enough to hold the 

 scent for a fox hunt. The hills were clothed in scarlet 

 mantles, the fiery red of the sumac, the darker hue of the 

 oak, the maple with mottled coat, and the sombre ever- 

 green, all blended as only those who have passed an 

 autumn in the North can know, the forests and streams 

 lay silent as if the hush of death was on them, the Adi- 

 rondacks rose towering through the mellow haze, beyond 

 the blue Champlain and the Green Mountains, Vermont's 

 own, rolled away swell after swell to the eastward— glori- 

 ous specimens of God's handiwork. 



We skirted grove and mountain, walked eastward 

 through the "notch,'* watching the morning sunbeams 

 sifting through the yellow leaves and then into the swamp, 

 and, following an old log road, watched the dogs' noses to 

 the ground, tails erect, looking over every log and falleu 

 tree, beating the ground again and again to the right and 

 to the left of us, entering as zealously into the spirit of 

 the chase as their masters. And at last the older dog's 

 patience is rewarded, he stops, gives a long snuff, raises 

 his head and gives voice to a long drawn note, Trump joins 

 him, and together they set about following the old trail; 

 steadily they work it up, occasionally giving voice as a 

 particularly "hot" scent strikes them, they grow more 

 eager, and follow easily. Suddenly R. stops, and at the 

 instant both hound's voices are lifted joyously and make the 

 woods ring with echoes "he's started!" aird we ran for the 

 runways. M. is a novice — has never shot his fox, and to 

 him is given the best of the "notch." 



The dogs make a wide sweep on to the last mountain — 

 are lost. to hearing for awhile, and then M. hears them 

 nearing him; he cocks his gun and waits, his heart beating 

 the while like a flail; hears a rustle in the leaves, looks, 

 and there within fifty feet of him stands the fox, unaware 

 of danger, one fore foot on a rock, the other raised, his 

 head turned back listening to the dogs. M. fires without 

 lowering his head, and the charge cuts through the tree 

 tops twenty feet above his intended victim, who jumps 

 behind a tree, and keeping it between him and M. until 

 out of reach of the second barrel, flies up the mountain 

 side; the dogs come; look disgusted, and follow him. 



The shooter sits down on a rock and communes with 

 nature; he will not even load his gun. The hounds take a 

 turn or two, and then M., sitting there disconsolate, hears 

 R.'s "destroyer" speak; a minute more, the dogs yelp 

 sharply, and then are still, and he knows that living man 

 will never more get shot at that fox. 



But it is not often a fox is so easily killed as this 

 one; often he is old and cunning, and has been there before. 

 He will not run in circles, nor keep on any particular tract, 

 but "reaches out" in long stretches of miles; will never 

 run in the same place; avoids the regular runways, and 

 bafflels the dogs at every turn. Many a day I have tramped 

 unsuccessfully after such a one, returning tired and with 

 worn out dogs at night, only to try the same fox again and 



