20 



RECREATION. 



was getting buck ague badly. He had given 

 me a tip to this effect : 



"Ole Stiffleg's goin' to make a beeline for 

 the ole log this mornin'. I know where 

 he's foragin' ; and if I start him 'twixt the 

 head of Mine branch hollow and the plant- 

 bed he'll take the top of the ridge and is 

 cocksure to take to water e'en about the ole 

 log. If I jump him higher up he may come 

 in at the foot of the island, or the big rock. 

 Possibly he may whip around and go to 

 the ole Engart house, but it's dollars to 

 doughnuts if you cover the ole log you'll 

 get a crack at him ; an' look here, boy, 

 lemme tell you sumpin. I don't want you 

 to get no buck ague ! Keep a stiff upper 

 lip an' a tight toe-nail. Blaze away at his 

 head first, just when he takes to water. 

 You may hit him swimmin' ; and if you miss 

 save your other barrel an' give him a sock- 

 dolager when he reaches shallow water on 

 t'other side. When you see him hoist his 

 flag, look out ; he's mighty good on the 

 jump, and will be off in the brush fo' you 

 c'n say, 'Jack Robinson !' " 



I had been at the stand nearly 3 hours. 

 There seemed to be nothing doing and time 

 was hanging heavy. 



Presently from a high knob in the rear 

 came a vociferous outburst from the dogs, 

 and Lknew the deer was heading my way. 

 At the same time I could hear his long, 

 plunging leaps through the brush as he 

 came down the mountain side. A moment's 

 hush, then a loud splashing sound in the 

 water, and there was the deer, somewhat 

 jaded by the long chase, making for the 

 opposite bank. And there stood a boy, half 

 crazed with fright, with a gun wobbling 

 every way and his heart beating fiercely 

 under his waistcoat. It was hard to tell 

 which was the more frightened, the deer or 

 the boy. It seemed an age, but finally the 

 gun spoke, and, Heaven only knows how it 

 happened, but when the smoke cleared away 

 the fatally wounded deer was seen churn- 

 ing the water, crimson with his blood, in a 

 last death struggle. 



I skinned out of my clothes in a jiffy, 

 swam in and pulled my victim ashore, and 

 when Hal arrived a few minutes later, I 

 had the deer's throat cut. 



Hal was delighted at my good luck, and 

 said, giving me his hand: 



''You're all right, Rob ! This ole county 

 ain' big enough for you to-day." 



PICKED UP ON THE PLAINS. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY M. S. GARRETSON 



A UNIQUE RELIC OF A DEPARTING RACE, 



I am an ardent reader of your magazine ; 

 also an amateur photographer. I have 

 what I think is an interesting relic. The 

 work and the idea are wholly my own. 

 Thinking it might also interest some of 

 your many readers I have photographed it, 

 and send herewith a print. These are buf-' 

 falo bull horns, in the rough, just as they 

 were picked up on the plains, near Miles 

 City, Montana, in 1882. The one on the 

 right is, according to good authority, from 

 an animal about 20 years old. The one on 

 the left is about 30 years old. It shows how 

 the old fellow had worn it off to keep it 

 sharp. The skin covering the shield was 

 once a part of a magnificent buffalo robe, 

 beautifully decorated and Indian tanned. It 

 was traded at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, 

 by the Indians in 1849. A neighbor of mine 

 came into possession of it that same year 

 and has owned it ever since until recently, 

 when at my earnest request he gave me the 

 last remnant, to cover the shield and make 

 the fringe decoration on what I call a 

 Unique relic of a departing race. 



"Martin 5. Garretson, Franklin Park, N. J. 



