A HIT AND A MISS 243 
Finlander discovered that he had shot a 
person instead of a bear, and before death 
ensued, he left the man lying on the railroad 
track expecting the train would come along 
and mangle the body so that he would be 
relieved of all responsibility in the shooting. 
He then disappeared in the woods for a 
number of days, and I presume that that 
was what contributed very largely to the 
conviction. 
“Since the enactment of this law the num- 
ber of fatalities in Michigan has annually 
decreased. Whether or not it is due to the 
fact that such a law exists I am unable to 
say. However, we have given the law the 
credit in the absence of any other proof. 
I know of no case under this law having 
reached the Supreme Court of this State; 
therefore, I am unable to give you any 
further information touching this law.” 
The necessity of adequate laws, or the 
better enforcement of existing laws, was 
forcibly brought to my mind a few years 
ago. During the open season a sportsman 
was crossing a lake of the Eagle Chain, in 
Wisconsin. He was alone, his boat rode 
high in the water, and the dip of his oar 
could be seen for miles as the spray glistened 
in the sunlight. Suddenly a rifle cracked 
and the water splashed near the lone boat- 
man. An interval ofa half minute—another 
report—and the lead crashed through the 
bow of the boat. 
The oarsman had by this time located 
the man on shore, and bringing his own 
rifle to his shoulder, he soon silenced him. 
Had the boatman been killed would it have 
been manslaughter? Yes, and more— 
murder—if not in legal contemplation, cer- 
tainly in the minds of the just. 
My thoughts inadvertently recurred to 
these conditions, following the guide’s sug- 
gestion, but I, nevertheless, made my plans 
for a week’s hunt during the November to 
follow. While civilization has been making 
inroads upon the Northwest country, fol- 
lowing closely in the wake of the woodman’s 
axe, Forest County, Wisconsin, has been 
favored or not, just as you are pleased to 
designate the omission. The official census 
gives it some thirteen hundred souls, but 
one might believe the taker thereof had to 
ride in a circle to find them. 
It was on the second day of the open sea- 
son that I found myself one of a party of 
six that left Big Lake, of the Eagle Chain, 
where we had spent the previous night in 
arranging our. equipment. A two-horse 
wagon in which had been packed three 
tents—one for cooking, one for storage and 
one for sleeping—together with a plenteous 
supply of bacon, beans, potatoes and flour, 
constituted our outfit. Our destination was 
the sparsely settled section of Forest 
County, twenty miles distant. The supplies 
left little room for passengers, and shoulder- 
ing our rifles, we preceded the wagon on 
foot. Making an early start, we traveled 
in a northeasterly direction, and soon 
reached the old military road, a prehistoric 
relic of Wisconsin’s frontier days and 
known to every sportsman who has hunted 
the section it traverses. 
Leaving the military road some three 
miles from our starting point, we turned 
into the tote road, which led to our camping 
place, the Pine River section. After an 
hour of travel, which was impeded by 
fallen trees and other obstructions, we dis- 
covered the first sign of game—the track 
of a wounded deer. While the party con- 
tinued on its way, Emile Kloes, the guide, 
and I took up.the trail. We followed it 
through a grove of hardwood, then over a 
slashing country covered with windfalls 
and young brush, which had but recently 
been swept by forest fires. 
“Tt looks like a hopeless chase,’ discon- 
solately observed Kloes, after a mile of 
travel. 
“The game is only slightly wounded, and 
that in the fore part of the body, since the 
blood is thrown to one side, instead of 
back,” he again vouchsafed. 
A closer inspection confirmed this opinion 
and, furthermore, that the shot had pene- 
trated the upper part of the body, as indi- 
cated by the height of blood on the bushes. 
The deer was apparently not hurt in a vital 
part, for we only found the blood at inter- 
vals and its tracks suggested that none of 
its bones had been broken. ‘ 
“Suppose we give it up,”’ the guide finally 
suggested, but I, somewhat impatient for 
the first deer of the hunt, did not wish to 
abandon it. After another half mile, how- 
ever, the trail became so faint that we gave 
it up and retraced our steps. 
