THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 137 
About a dozen quail have wintered near the cabin and have be- 
come quite tame. 
I leave this locality within a few days for Curry County. I have 
the predatory animals in this vicinity pretty well cleaned out, in fact 
I can see no further signs of their wanderings about my domain, and 
am ordered to go down the Rogue, where numerous complaints have 
gone abroad that stockmen are suffering much loss from cougars and 
other predatory beasts. I will endeavor to reach that locality within 
the near future, vested with a ‘‘1917 Special Star,’’ to assist in the 
apprehension of violators of the game laws, and four long-eared hounds 
to bawl upon the tracks of ferocious beasts. 
Presume that you read some of the numerous accounts of my being 
devoured by wolves during the latter part of January? However, I 
am like Mark Twain said, ‘‘I find that my death was much exagger- 
ated.’’ The story was all a hoax, and whoever started it must have 
had a dream brought upon him by the thoughts of a bone-dry year—or 
an over-indulgence of same. 

“ZZ, Skis’ 
