32 



RECREATION. 



it suggested nothing so vividly as a splen- 

 did opportunity for a cowardly hunter. 

 Stealing into the tent I picked up Swaim's 

 old Springfield rifle, which, by the way, 

 was a relic of the Nez Perces war, and, 

 resting it on a nail in the tent pole, took 

 deliberate aim at the arrangement and 

 fired. The landscape painter from Helena, 

 ruthlessly divorced from his dreams, 

 jumped up in bed, discharging questions 

 at me about the color of their war 

 paint and the particular tribe to which 

 they belonged. I told him what had oc- 

 curred and started out to throw the carcass 

 over the cliff as otherwise it would 

 make living intolerable. I confess I was 

 rather chagrined when I reached the spot 

 to see the coyote cantering listlessly into 

 the night, while the moon still climbed the 

 crystal walls of heaven. 



Some time afterward snow began to fall 

 in the hills at the head of the gulch and I 

 embraced the opportunity it afforded to 

 go deer hunting. Deer are quite numerous 

 in that part of Deer Lodge county, not- 

 withstanding the frequent raids which are 

 made on them by the Indians and some 

 unscrupulous white settlers. One morning, 

 feeling unusually bloodthirsty, I started up 

 the hillside toward McLellan gulch. When 

 I reached the hill top, which looks down 

 en the gulch, I sat down on a log to rest 

 and enjoy the wealth of scenery unveiled 

 by my new position. Deer trails were 

 numerous and I took a fiendish delight in 



the thought of how the full moon, looking 

 down on the result of my marauding, 

 would grow pale as he deplored the sudden 

 decline of the deer industry in Montana. 

 While thus engaged I was startled by the 

 cracking of some underbrush which lay 

 on the edge of a clump of quaking asp, 

 directly behind me. I turned around sharp- 

 ly in an effort to stare a mountain lion 

 out of countenance. I felt rather un- 

 comfortable and restless. I like sociability 

 but reserve the privilege of selecting my 

 acquaintances. After the correct imitation 

 of Spanish gunnery I had given some time 

 before I was loath to throw down the 

 gauntlet to so formidable an animal. Yet 

 it would be unsportsmanlike to run away,, 

 I reasoned with myself, however, that since 

 I started out to hunt deer I must confine 

 myself to that species ; that if a mountain 

 lion intruded on my privacy it showed his 

 bad taste and that I was not to blame. 

 This argument was so convincing I lost no 

 time in disengaging myself from that cou- 

 gar. Under such circumstances it is a gross 

 breach of discipline to look back over 

 one's shoulder, but I allowed myself that 

 privilege and was rather pleased to find 

 the cougar going in the opposite direction, 

 with much enthusiasm, and that we were 

 separated by about 500 yards of excellent 

 Montana scenery. 



About the middle of November, the snow 

 having become too deep for us to do anv- 

 thing with comfort, we returned to Helena. 



A REPROACH TO WISCONSIN. 



Here is a reproduction of a photograph 

 of one Decatur Walker, of Lake Geneva, 

 Wis., who poses as one of the "great fish- 

 ermen" of that village. He is evidently 

 proud of the slaughter or he would not 

 have been photographed. WaiKer parades 

 the dog in the picture as if he might have 

 been an accomplice, but the latter seems 

 to have more sense than his master, for he 

 looks away from the camera, and is evi- 

 dently ashamed of the butchery perpetrat- 

 ed by his boss. 



Walker's number in the pen is 877. — 

 Editor. 



"I don't think much of this museum," 

 said Jinks. "They ain't got no skull of 

 Napoleon Bonaparte, and the one I was in, 

 up to New York, has 2." — Baltimore Amer- 



ican. 



DECATUR WALKER, LAKE GENEVA, WIS. 



She — You say you are devoted to art. 

 W r hat is the particular art that you love 

 best ? 



He — Thou art. — Kansas City Times. 



