122 



RECREATION. 



destination, over as rough a road as can 

 be found this side of the Rockies. 



The afternoon of our second day m 

 camp I took my rifle and set out alone to 

 see what I could find. After climbing 

 steep mountains and scrambling over 

 rocks for several hours, I came across a 

 bunch of 9 turkeys. I succeeded in kill- 

 ing one, and then, it being almost dark, I 

 started back. When nearing camp some- 

 thing struck me a terrific blow on the 

 shoulder, knocking me down. When I re- 

 gained my feet, I found myself face to 

 face with a lynx, or bob cat, as it is called 

 in the South. I fired at him and missed. 

 He made a dash for me while I was try- 

 ing to force another cartridge into the 

 breech. The shell stuck and put my gun 

 temporarily out of commission. Using the 

 weapon as a club I soon drove the cat up a- 

 tree, but not before the brute had slit the 

 legs of my trousers and torn most of the 

 flesh from the back of my left hand. I 

 managed to get a shell into my gun, and, 

 after 3 unsuccessful attempts, killed the 

 lynx. 



I presume the animal was really after 

 the turkey when he made his first leap, 

 but he certainly made things interesting 

 for me awhile. Fortunately my hand is 

 not crippled, but it will be badly scarred 

 as long as I live. 



Dr. J. W. Bell, Dayton, O. 



This story of an encounter with a lynx 

 is a most remarkable one. For many years 

 I have refused to believe any of the num- 

 erous newspaper yarns about these animals 

 as well as panthers, black bears and wolves 

 attacking people. In fact, I have investi- 

 gated several such reports and have been 

 able to ascertain definitely that they were 

 entirely false. This story, however, is dif- 

 ferent. It has the ring of truth, in it, and 

 I can not doubt it. In a subsequent letter 

 Dr. Bell gives the names of a number of 

 persons in Indiana and Ohio who will 

 vouch for his veracity. Dr. Albert Gar- 

 ver, of Mountain Home, Ark., was with 

 Dr. Bell's party and dressed the wounded 

 hand. — Editor. 



IN THE EARLY DAYS. 



Away back in the 70's much of the traffic 

 of the Northwest was carried on by steam- 

 boats which drew their supply of fuel from 

 wood yards strung along the river. The 

 Northwest at that time was full of hostile 

 Indians, so a man, to run a woodyard, 

 needed to be brave and cool. It was a life 

 of constant danger. 



Mike Duvall was such a man. He ran 

 a wood yard on the North bank of the Mis- 

 souri between Cow island and Fort Carrol. 

 The last boat of the season had gone down 

 and Mike and his rtien were supplied for 



the winter except for meat. No one then 

 ever thought of buying mjat beyond bacon 

 now and then as a change, or a slice for 

 the beans; buffalo, deer, elk and antelope 

 were abundant. 



One afternoon Mike asked the temporary 

 cook how much meat he had and was told 

 there was only one saddle of venison left. 

 This was urgent, so Mike shouldered his 

 Winchester 45-75 and paddled across the 

 river, heading for the sources of some 

 creeks pouring into the river farther away. 

 This was a favorite ground for mule deer. 



Just as he got to the head of a draw he 

 discovered a buffalo cow feeding near the 

 head of another coulee, and he saw that 

 by going back a little he could creep close 

 to her. Stealthily he crawled along till 

 within 100 yards and fired. She ran as if 

 untouched for 50 yards, then rolled over. 

 Mike walked over to cut her throat and 

 was just bending over her when ping! went 

 a bullet so close that he could feel its 

 wind. He fell as if shot and instantly the 

 report reached him from a clump of bushes 

 150 yards away. Mike lay motionless a 

 long time and was at last rewarded by see- 

 ing his enemy crawling to him over the 

 hill and within 60 yards. As the Indian 

 saw no signs of life 'near the cow he seemed 

 to gather courage, and when within 50 yards 

 Mike sprang up, as he says, to see how the 

 spalpeen "would like the Ink o' my ghost." 

 The Indian was so startled that he dis- 

 charged his weapon into the ground "for- 

 ninst" himself. Before the poor devil had 

 tirne to do anything old "Meat in the Pot" 

 spoke and there was one more good Indian. 



Mike dragged the good Indian into a 

 washout, took his scalp and then cutting off 

 as much of the cow as he could carry, went 

 back for help for the rest. Being asked 

 as to the scalp he replied, "Be jabers, I kilt 

 some carrion as well as the cow." 



M. F. Hackett, Lakeview, Mont. 



THE HOG RECORD BEATEN. 

 Havre de Grace, Md. — Duck shooting has been 

 poor on the Susquehanna flats this spring. Yes- 

 terday, however, Capt. William I. Poplar and his 

 brother killed and picked up 122 ducks within 30 

 or 40 minutes. Of these, 82 were canvasbacks. 

 This is a phenomenal shooting record, but the men 

 had their chance and improved it. The ducks 

 fairly swarmed around them while the men kept 

 their boxes in position. — Baltimore Record. 



I wrote Captain Poplar asking as to the 

 truth of this report and he replied : 



My brother, Jesse D. Poplar, and I set 

 out at daylight and were not able to shoot 

 more than an hour when the tide and cur- 

 rent made us take up. The ducks darted 

 faster than we could load our guns and 

 we killed them when they came. We gath- 

 ered 122, of which 82 were canvasbacks. 

 It was the greatest hour's shooting we ever 

 had. The ducks flew and darted well. 



