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RECREATION. 



THE LEATHER WOODCHUCK. 



Editor Recreation. 



Ellisburg, N. Y. 



Hundreds of hard working people enjoy, each 

 season, the pure air, plain food, and beautiful 

 scenery of the Adirondack mountains. No other 

 class of men appreciate a joke more than these 

 health and pleasure seekers on their annual vaca- 

 tion. The best of humor prevails, and at every 

 hotel and camp fire the story teller is the main 

 attraction of the evening, which is usually de- 

 voted to story telling. It is here that you will 

 also find the practical joker, who is always on 

 the alert for an opportunity to play some joke on 

 his unsuspecting fellow man. 



Last summer, while spending a few weeks 

 hunting and fishing, at a small hotel in these 

 mountains, a piece of deception was practiced 

 on a number of new comers. The hotel was a 

 small wooden structure, where comfort, re- 

 gardless of appearances, was the main feature 

 sought after in its construction. It was built 

 on a small hill, overlooking a beautiful lake. 

 At the right, a short distance, was a sharp knoll, 

 the evenness of which bore a striking resemb- 

 lance to a railroad embankment. 



The morning after my arrival, while sitting, 

 with several other boarders, on the veranda, 

 a member of the company remarked, "Well, 

 I wish some one would come along and kill 

 that woodchuck." This remark, although a 

 mystery to me, caused considerable laughter 

 among my companions. The conversation 

 drifted into other channels, and I had almost 

 forgotten the remark when a stranger emerged 

 from the woods in the direction of the nearest 

 hotel. At sight of him, the chore boy of the 

 place knowingly asked, "Shall I work the 

 woodchuck?" A nod of assent, and he disap- 

 peared over the knoll. 



The stranger in the meantime came up, and 

 after the usual salutations, said, " I am stopping 

 over at * Muncey's,' and thought I would take a 

 walk over and see your place. Brought my gun 

 along, as I hear that a bear has been seen in 

 the woods near here. But," he continued, " I 

 have not seen an animal larger than a squirrel 

 since I came in the woods." 



At this, one of our company remarked : "If 

 you had been here a few days ago, you could 

 have had some fine sport shooting woodchucks. 

 There is any quantity of them around in this 

 clearing." 



"Shooting woodchucks is my best hold," re- 

 plied the stranger. "One shot is all I want at 

 30 rods. I used to shoot lots of them down 

 in Cortland county." 



At this moment one of the boarders, who had 

 remained out of sight, rushed around the cor- 

 ner of the hotel, and exclaimed, "There's 

 another woodchuck, boys," pointing in the direc- 

 tion which the boy had taken. 



Sure enough, about 30 rods from us was, to 

 all appearances, a large woodchuck, sitting be- 

 side his newly dug hole on the side of the knoll. 



The stranger reached for his rifle, and asked 

 excitedly, "Shall I knock him over?" "Let 

 him have, before he goes back in the hole," 

 replied the man who had seen him first. The 

 stranger raised his gun, and taking careful aim, 

 fired. Out of the little cloud of dust that arose 



where the bullet struck, crawled the apparently 

 badly wounded woodchuck. After giving him 

 another shot without effect, the stranger dropped 

 his gun and started on a run to bring in his 

 game, which lay kicking near its hole. He 

 cleared the fence at a bound, waded through a 

 tangled mass of berry bushes and burdocks, 

 and at last reached the now dead woodchuck. 



When he reached the old boot he looked it 

 over, then slowly retraced his steps, picking the 

 burrs from his trousers as he came. The ex- 

 pression on his face was a study. Before we 

 could speak, he exclaimed, " It's on me this time; 

 come in and have something." 



L. E. Hudson. 



SOME STRANGE INCIDENTS. 



St. Louis, Mo. 

 Editor Recreation. 



I have, with my friend Geo. H. Small, punct- 

 ured the Rockies in. several places, and have had 

 some experiences worthy of a better pen than I 

 can wield. We have often thought of you and 

 your book, " Rustlings in the Rockies," and as 

 often said, under our breath, that we doubted 

 some of the romances related therein ; but now 

 we believe all the book says and a great deal 

 more. 



For example : while camped on the Yellow- 

 stone, in September, '93, my friend Small had a 

 tilt with a bear, who came down to the tent, 

 attacked him, took from him a saddle of venison, 

 while he was cleaning it, and made his escape 

 with it, getting clear out of sight before a gun 

 was thought of. 



Again: on August 29, 1893, I had an experi- 

 ence that might be of interest to any old sports- 

 man : While in Grippies canyon, in the Rockies — 

 south of the old Sitting Bull camp — I shot an elk 

 at a distance of about 150 yards. At the re- 

 port of my big 45-90 Winchester, the elk squatted 

 almost to the ground, and then darted off down 

 the mountain, crossed the brook and disappeared 

 in the distance, I said to my friend Small, who 

 stood near me, that I believed I had hit that elk, 

 as he acted strangely when I shot. 



We stood for a few minutes waiting for a 

 calm after the excitement, and then walked to 

 where the elk stood when I fired, to see if we could 

 find any signs of blood or hair. We had arrived 

 on the spot and were looking around for 

 signs, when we heard heavy tramping and 

 smashing of brush, as if made by a runaway 

 horse. We looked in the direction whence the 

 noise come, and saw, dashing down upon us a 

 huge elk. The shock to us both was great in- 

 deed, but before we could think of shooting, 

 the elk ran to us and fell dead on the spot where 

 he had received his death wound, some 12 or 15 

 minutes before. 



These, with many other exciting scenes that 

 we have witnessed in the far west might be of 

 interest to your readers, if properly written ; but 

 as I am under the weather at present, I will have 

 to say good bye. C. H. Tyler. 



"To be well shaken before taken," said the 

 New York policeman, as he hustled the poor 

 drunk on his feet preparatory to starting for the 

 station house. 



