35 6 



RECREA TION. 



could, tightened our waistbands, drank 

 spring water, and proceeded, with wicked 

 eyes on Clint all the rest of that day. 



Our little party hunted every day, with 

 varying success, but always with a satisfied 

 feeling at night. Finally the last day was at 

 hand, and we anticipated a great time. In 

 the morning we drove to a neighboring 

 farm, and put the team up with an old hun- 

 ter, who told us of several coveys of ruffed 

 grouse. We failed to locate his flocks at 

 first, but finally ran on to one of them and 

 the fun began. 



I was told to keep in a certain cart-path; 

 Doc put me there, presumably in good 

 faith. The other boys entered a little 

 swamp and soon flushed 6 birds. Doc 

 dropped 4, and Nick got the other 2. They 

 were all young birds and lay close, and it 

 was an easy place in which to shoot. Of 

 course I did not get a shot from the path. 

 One bird Doc shot, lit in a tree near me, 

 then dropped to the ground dead. 



Well satisfied with the morning's work, 

 we drove out again in the afternoon. Dur- 

 ing the hunt. Doc called me to come over 

 to him, for he was about to flush a covey 

 of grouse. I ran across a swamp, jumping 

 from tussock to tussock. Just as I leaped 

 from one I saw a black snake on the next, 

 coiled, with head erect. As I had jumped 

 for this particular tussock, and was then in 

 the air, I could not help landing on it. I 

 can never forget the sensation as the snake 

 coiled around my legs. I kicked pretty 

 lively for a few seconds, and when at last 

 clear of him I flew, not even looking 

 around. 



We had funny stories to tell the old man 

 that night. Nick, who is a 6-footer, at- 



tempted to jump a bog, about 8 feet wide, 

 but slipped and went to his hips into mud. 

 The butt of his gun somehow got under his 

 arm, and he drove that down about 2 feet. 

 We had hard work scraping the mud off 

 from him and poking it out of his gun 

 barrels. 



There was also a little hitch in getting 

 over a stream, about 20 feet wide, that after- 

 noon. We followed its bank for half a 

 mile, without rinding a way to cross. Fi- 

 nally Doc saw a birch tree near the bank. 

 This he climbedandbending it down, landed 

 safe on the other shore. I let the heavy- 

 weights try it first, then threw over my gun 

 and began climbing. The tree bent, but 

 not enough, and I hung over the water, un- 

 able to get back and not wanting to get wet. 



As I had enjoyed a good laugh on Nick, 

 when he was in the mud, he now retaliated. 



1 could hang to the small branches, but 

 a short time, and it was anything but funny 

 to me; though the others enjoyed it, and 

 even my dog howled with delight. After a 

 time Doc assisted me, and I came off my 

 perch, resolved to never again laugh at the 

 misfortunes of others. 



We reached the house pretty tired that 

 night, but the feather beds of our host were 

 a consolation. The mattresses were about 



2 feet deep, and by taking a run across the 

 room and making a good jump, I could get 

 into bed. I would immediately sink into 

 oblivion — not sleep, mind you, but simply 

 out of sight. For half the night I imagined 

 myself hanging to that birch tree. 



In the morning, with everything, even to 

 the dogs, packed into the carriage, we 

 started for home, over beautiful New 

 Hampshire roads. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY AUG. GOTTSCHALCK. 



TAME BUFFALO. ROCK'S 'RANCH, LAKE, IDAHO. 



