THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 37 
Tuesday was an uneventful day. Although we put forth consider- 
able effort, no big bucks were sighted. Each saw a good deal of 
fresh bear sign, a few wolf tracks, and a good many small deer. 
Nothing of real interest, however transpired. 
Wednesday we arose at 2:40 a. m., having arranged for our day’s 
hunt on what is known as Dry Creek, about three miles away. Con- 
siderable frost was on the ground and the air was actually piercing. 
We arrived at the Dry Creek burn soon after daylight, and to our 
joy found plenty of big deer sign. We separated two hundred yards 
apart and hunted east. J. H. struck an enormous buck track, which 
he followed until it “blew up,” at least he couldn’t follow it any longer. 
He soon found another track and not long afterward I heard his 30-30 
ring out with a keen report. Knowing him to be a good marksman, 
I said under my breath, “Well, that takes John’s last tag.’ P. L. 
“jumped” several, but failed to see any. I was also having similar 
luck, when at last I sighted an old fellow that had sighted me first 
and was stealing through a small opening in an effort to make his 
way to shelter in a clump of trees just beyond. I had just stepped upon 
a log at the time, and when I raised my gun to fire my wooden leg 
slid off and threw me down. This rattled me to some extent, but I 
quickly regained my equilibrium and fired just before he walked 
behind a bunch of snow brush. I managed to get over that way, 
fearful that I might have missed him, but lo and behold! he was there 
for keeps. This deer was a six-point and is not shown in the picture. 
He was the fattest deer I have ever killed, the tallow near the rump 
actually measuring two inches in thickness. By shooting a few signal 
shots the party was soon together again, P. L. and I finding each 
other first. A little later we looked across a small burn and saw 
J. H. with his usual smile, and behind his saddle reposed another big 
four-point buck. 
Everybody in the party was happy, but our spirits were somewhat 
dampened to learn that J. H. had bruised his leg severely. We reached 
camp, having now six big fat bucks strung on a pole, and on exam- 
ining Mr. Cochran’s leg, decided to leave for home on the following 
day, which we did. The six-pointer was given to Mr. Farlow, while 
the other five are shown in the accompanying picture. 
COUGAR HUNTING NEAR ALBANY 
By Warven J. W. MeEtzcer, Albany, Oregon. 
A few years ago myself and two others were returning from a 
deer hunt in the vicinity of Upper Soda Springs on the Soda fork of 
the South Santiam. Right here I might spend considerable time in 
explaining the different forks of the Santiam River, but unless the 
reader had a map before him the explanation would sound like Greek. 
If you want to get the country straightened out in your mind, get a 
map from the forestry department showing all the trails, streams, 
ranges, cabins and about everything else one will want to know— 
except where you will find the big buck you are seeking or find the 
best day’s fishing. 
We started on our homeward journey about the 10th of Septem- 
ber, leaving Soda Springs about 1 o’clock in the afternoon, and arrived 
at the Canyon ranch about 5 o’clock that evening, where we made 
camp for the night. While the boys were getting things ready for 
supper, I cut off a piece of venison and took it to the ranch house 
