206 
sight. Painfally he dragged himself back to his camping 
place, caught his mule and set out along the trail for Grand 
Lake, ten miles distant, which was the nearest place at 
which he could ever hope to find a human being, He said 
that several times on the way he could hear people halloo- 
ing, bui he conld not answer their call or find them—the 
yagaties of deljium, Then, again, he would find himself 
lying in the grass or bushes beside the trail, and his faithful 
mule standing by his side. He would clamber on to its 
back and resume his almdst hopeless journey. He had to 
ford ywo rivers and several smaller streams. When he 
reached jhe lake Wescott was out upon the water some dis- 
tance fishing from atait, Seeing the bloody apparition, his 
first thought was Indians, and he pushed his craft further 
from shore; but after atime he hecame conyinced that it 
was a white man, came ashore, and rendered such assistance 
as he was able. 
About 2 o’clock in the morumg the doctor came and began 
dressing Jim’s wounds. They numbered over fifty, and ex- 
tended from the top of his head to the ends of his toes, The 
one that distressed him most was a bite entirely through the 
elbow joint of the left arm, This gave him great pain. The 
one most serious in after effect was a cut across the forehead 
from just above the right eax to a point between and above 
the eyes, from which the scalp was torn downward over the 
face so far that it tore out the right eye. A similar eut on 
the back of the head allowed the scalp to be turned down in 
the same manner like a flap. A deep cut over the left eye 
had closed that organ entirely, The bear appeared to 
“have grasped the whole length of his face at one bite, the 
lower jaw catching him wnder the chin and the upper jaw 
across the forehead. The other wounds were more or Jess 
serious; many having to be stitched up by the surgeon. 
As he became more and more rational, Jim grew concerned 
about his right eye—asked repeatedly if it was destroyed, 
Hope was held out as long as possible, but at Jast, after all 
his wounds had been dressed and he-was as comfortable as 
he could be made under the circumstances, the doctor replied 
to the offen repeated question: “I'm afraid, Jim, you will 
neyer be able to use that eye much more.” Then Jim 
solemnly dedicated his remaining eye and the balance of his 
life to the destruction of bears. 
The next day brought a number of visitors to the lake, 
and among them an old army hospital nurse, who was hired 
to take care of Jim, In thirty days he mounted his mule 
aud rode back alone to his cabin home on the other side of 
the range, fully a hundred miles by the route he had to fol- 
low. Seeing Jim in good hands, my friend and myself went 
to hunt for the bear, which, it is hardly necessary to say, we 
expected to find dead, but we did net find it at all. How- 
ever, it has never been seen since that time, while for years 
before i had been met and run from alarmingly often, This 
particular bear, notorious in the neighborhcod for years, 
was described as being ‘‘as large as a mule,” 
This would seem a fitting place to end the story, but as 
some readers may wish to know the end of Jim, who was a 
noted character in his time aud range, I will add a couple 
of paragraphs more. 
J next saw him at his cabin in 1872. Its walls were lined 
With skins of bears, cougars and other wild animals. The 
surroundings were littered with traps, heads, shanks and 
the varied débrts that usually characterize a hunter's camp, 
from which arose a perfume not of Araby or Cologne, 
Two years later Jim had an unpleasantness with an Eng- 
lishman named Hague, for whom he had been a guide. A 
war of words led to mutual threats and notice to be ready 
when next they met. Hague took refuge with a neighbor— 
Griff Hyans—and telling his fears, and asked Hyans to pro- 
tect his life. A day or two after Jim rode up io Hvans’s 
house with a rifle across his saddle bow. While getting off his 
horse Evans shot him, lodging a ball in his brain (the news- 
papers said at the time a minie ball, and now some say the 
weapon was a double-barreled shotgun loaded with buck- 
shot), Atany rate Evans's shot ended the fight; but, strange 
to say, Jim again recovered apparently, and lived a year or 
two after, but finally died, it was believed, from the effect 
of the bullet in his brain. Before his death Jim stated that 
he was 2 native of Cambridge, N, Y., and itis believed he 
“took to the woods” because of a love disappointment in 
early life. That last sounds like the stereotyped romance 
applicable in such cases. W.N. B. 
Denver. Colorado. 
A DAY WITH THE GROUSE. 
WISH to make some return for the many agreeable hours 
I have enjoyed in reading the Forust AND StRRAM, by 
recounting, as far as my memory serves me, the events of 
the most pleasant day’s shooting of my life. Although I 
make no pretensions to being a skillful shot or a scientific 
manager of dogs (having owned but three in my life), yet I 
doubt if there be any one whose heart beats more quickly 
when his dog comes toa point, or who finds more delight 
in the récreations of forest and stream, 
Before sunrise, on a bright frosty morning of early Novem- 
ber, in 1881, accompanied only by Mount, I hurried from 
my home to the railroad depot at Meadville, and bought a 
ticket for Utica. Mount is a red Irish setter, heavy of body 
and strong of limb, who knows thoroughly two things at 
least: First, torange the steep hillsides and deep ravines of 
WNorthwestem Pennsylvania from sunrise to sunset: without 
flag@ing; aud secondly, to make and stick to his point all 
day unless relieved. An hour’s ride down the beautiful val- 
ley brought us to Utica, a quiet little village situated at the 
mouth of Mill Creek, which flows from theeast between two 
liigh and steep ridges of hills into French Creek, These 
deep gorges, whose nearly perpendicular sides are covered 
with cedar and hemlock, laurel and briers, are the almost 
impenetrable home of the pheasant, the wildest and most 
beautiful game bird of America. We went up Mill Creek 
by a road which winds along its banks, sometimes on the 
oue side, sometimes on the other. The turbulent little stream, 
not more than twenty feet wide, is kept in a constant rage by 
the rocks which have rolled down from the hillsides, and 
have yainly tried to stop up its path. The trees that inter; 
lace their branches above it now almost dip their limbs into 
its rushing waters. The laurel forms a dense undergrowth 
on both sides down to its very edge, ‘These delightfully cool 
-waters were once a favorite home of the trout. I know of 
no more pleasant sight than this streamin midwinter. Then 
the branches of the evergreens, freighted with their weight 
ot snow, sweep down until they form an arch over it, Every 
stone and every projecting point is covered with a feathery 
cushion of silent white, Under this and in vivid contrast to 
the solemn quiet around, the dark little stream ever rushes 
resilessly onward. Half a mile from the village are the ruins 
cf an old ou derrick which some enterprising wild-catter had 
set up, and thrust his probe down into the earth only to find. 
FOREST AND STREAM. - Ter. 9, 1860 
—— 
share of the dinner, plunged into and drank of the stream, 
rolled im the leaves and was ever uneasy for the hunt to begin 
again, ) : 
Passing on to the head of the run where it crossed an old 
lumber road, the dog made game and then moved cautiously 
forward. Scarcely had he pointed a second time when from 
the hushes and rocks which skirted the stream and road, 
rose 4 flock of five or six pheasants and tore through the 
bushes in all directions, one going up the old road. I took 
deliberate aim, and with a heavy thud he dropped between 
the wheel-tracks, A second load sent after a*tardy one 
which rose at the crack of the gun, should have been but was 
not successful. I now crossed eastward over the ridge which 
divided this stream from the one which I was1o descend to 
Mill Creek. Here the woods was much more open. The 
gully soon came out into the open fields, and was filled with 
briers and hazel bushes, with an occasional tree, a lovely 
feeding place for the pheasants, From the thickest of these 
the dog flushed a flock of which J, with the most frantic: 
efforts, could not catch sight of one. Further on the gull 
was narrower, so that I could keep on the bank and still 
sometimes see the dog. Presently I saw him stiff and firm 
ona point. Here was a puzzle. If I went into the thicket 
to him I might not see the bird fly. lf I did not it might 
rise out of gunshot. But the pheasant himself settled ihe 
question for me, for with a mighty racket he cleared the : 
bushes, came directly to me, passing within fifteen feet of 
me and heading for the woods beyond, What 4 pleasure it” 
was to drop him into the buckwheat stubble. What a pleas- 
ure if was to say ‘dead bird” to Mount, as he came inquir- ~ 
ingly out of the bushes, and motion him toward the spot. 
How proudly he came bringing the pheasant, Continuing 
how down the middle of the gully, suddenly a bird which 
probably belonged to the flock Hushed some distance back, 
scudded from a walnut tree on the edge of the ravine and 
plunged over the ridge which separated the little stream at 
this point from the gorge of Mill Creek. At fifty feet from 
the tree it would have been out of sight, but instinctively 
I threw my gun towards it and fired, It fell out of sight 
over the ridge, but Mount had seen the performance, and 
brought the dead bird. Many and many a time have I fired 
at pheasants flying from trees, but they go with such light- 
ning-likerapidity, especially if they are high up, that 1 some- 
times seriously doubt whether shot goes fast enough to oyer- 
take them, so seldom have [ succeeded in killing them. 
Has any one ever seen # perfectly happy day? The clouds — 
for the last hour or two had been gathering in the west, and 
a pust was to be expected every minute. We proceeded now — 
to hunt the ground between the two gullies, in which were 
several thickets which we had partially nunted in the morn- 
ing. Nota pheasant could we find, Birds tell by instinct 
the approach of a storm, and seek the most secluded nooks. 
The clouds soon dropped their burden, and it rained as if 
it would rain ils last. Although I carried a waterproof 
cape, yet the lower part of my body was soon thoroughly 
soaked, When the storm ceased there was still an hour and 
a half before the train went up, yet the bushes and weeds 
were so drenched that it was useless to hunt. 1 sauntered 
toward the depot, not forgetting my game bag in which 
were five pheasants, which had apparently been drowned, not 
shot. Nine birds made a very respectable load. Passing 
through the sealtered village at dusk the dog came toa point, 
A rabbit bounced up trom the opposite side and ran across 
the road to hide under the broad sidewalk upon whieh I was 
standing. I rolled him into the gutter within two feet of 
his hiding place. Reaching home I weighed my game— 
fifteen and a half pounds. 1 counted the shells remaining, 
and found I had shot thirty times. Ihave frequently hunted 
this ground over since, but now it is difficull to tind one 
bird, where three years ago it was easy to find a half dozen. 
Such is an account of this to me memorable hunt, and if 
it gives any fellow sportsman one-tenth of the pleasure in 
reading it has given me in recalling its incidents, or one 
hundredth of the pleasure I had in the sport itself, I am_ 
amply repaid for my trouble. CO, W. Rurp. 
WrsteRN PHNNSYLYANIA. 
a dry hole. : 
My simple plan for the day’s hunt was to ascend Mill 
Creek a mile, to follow one of its little tributaries southward 
to its head and then crossing the ridge eastward to another 
tributary, fo descend this to the main stream again. These 
two gullies and the ground between them were sufficient for 
the day’s sport, Scareely had we turned southward into the 
first ravine when Mount, after a little preliminary work, 
came to a stand among a clump of cedars which were thick 
on both sides of the narrow path. In a moment, wh-r1, 
rushed out a half dozen pheasants, of which I saw but one, 
as forty feet in front he flashed across an opening. I fired 
instantaneously, He fell. I picked him up. The shot, 
almost like a bullet, had cut a furrow across the front of his 
breast. So much for snap-shooting. The load might just 
as well have gone through the center of his body, when very 
little would have been left of the pheasant. I hold it a 
cardinal rule, in shooting in our dense thickets, to fire the 
instant my eye catches sight of the bird, and never to neglect 
eyen the unlikeliest opportunity, Although I miss-many 
shots in the course of a day, yet the game bag will justify 
the proceeding when one becomes accustomed to shooting 
by instinct. Following up the ravine I missed two shots, 
one of which was clear and open, by firing too quick; for the 
other I did not blame myself, as 1 caught but a glimpse of 
the bird as it was going through a thicket. Having climbed 
over the ruins of an old mill and dam, at the side of the race 
just aboye them, the dog came to a point. A pheasant 
sprang up, not, however, with the intention of making a 
long flight, but of throwing itself over the edge of the race 
into the bushes beyond. Just as it was disappcaring over 
the ridge, it dropped to a snapshot not fifty feet from me. 
Leaying the ravine for a time, we now went eastward 
where a narrow wood of aspen with a thick undergrowth of 
bushes ran from the rayine out to a point in the open field. 
We had scarcely reached the top of the ravine and climbed 
the fence, when the dog made game and crept stealtbily 
along, now pointing and waiting for me to come up and 
now moving cautiously on. This he did for at least one 
hundred and fifty yards, until he came almost to the end of 
the strip of woods. 
Why is it that in following a dog up in this way, one’s 
heart will beat almost aloud, and the blood will fairly boil 
through the veins? It is these trying moments to the nerves, 
and not the bag of game, that make the pleasure of shooting 
on the wing behind a reliable dog, far excel all other kinds 
of sport. *Dhe dog stood for a moment, then with a lond 
yoar ten or a dozen pheasants scattered in every direction 
over the open field. 1, im the thicket, could see nothing 
until one showed itself over the hazel bushes fifty yards dis- 
tant. I threw up my gun and fired. He gave a convulsive 
start, and changed his direction, no longer heading toward 
the deep ravine of Mill Creek, but directing his flight without 
wavering out over the open field with no cover ahead as an 
objective point, and disappeared over a low rise of ground, 
That looked encouraging. I took the exact line of his flight, 
passed over the first ridge and on to a second. Almost on 
the top of the gentle declivity the dog came to a point, but 
immediately walked forward and picked up a splendid old 
cock pheasant, fully two hundred and fifty yards from his 
starting point, without a visible wound upon him, but stone 
dead. Having received a shot ina vital part, he had evi- 
dently-flown blindly on, but could not command strength 
sufficient to take him over the second rise, and so had flown 
against it and died there. 
What a magnificent bird a cock pheasant is when his breast 
has no longer the bright colors of youth, but has assumed 
the dusky brown of mature age! His aristocratic blue-biack 
ruff would do honor to the neck of Queen Elizabeth. ‘Vhat 
evening I weighed him; he tipped the scales at one pound ten 
and a half ounces. I now hunted a part of the ground be- 
tween the two rayines, where clumps of wood with plenty 
of undergrowth was scattered through the fields. I found 
three or four pheasants, but they rose wild, and although I 
sent loads of shot after them, they did not feel any yalid 
reason for stopping. Coming, however, toathicket of young 
oaks, every one of which was coyered with dead leaves, 
which, strong in death, still adhered to them, I found an 
open space completely surrounded with bushes and trees 
Here the dog pointed, solid as a rock, and a pheasant rose 
from the opposite side of the clear space. He could not dart 
away at once, but tried to rise first so as to get clear of the 
bushes. I caught him easily at their top before he started 
off, and he fell dead. within twenty-five yards. I now re- 
turned to the gully which I first started up, and ascended it 
a couple of hundred yards, when the dog came to a point, 
and moving forward pointed again. I like my trusty dog, 
because he understands pheasant hunting to perfection, 
knows when the birds are moying, and can calculate to a 
nicety how close he dares approach them before he must 
stop. Thirty or forty yards from us was a grapevine, Out 
of it scudded a pheasant. I fired, but itwenton. A second 
one, at the report of the gun, started from the foot of the 
vine. I fired. Ittell. The dog brought it, still living, and 
gave it into my hands. Gooddog! ; 
Having now five pheasants, I descended the ravine almost 
to its mouth and hung np my game bag in a tree, trusting 
io the pockets of my hanting coat to carry the game I might 
shoot during the remainder of the day. I then climbed the 
west side of the gully, which was very steep and densely 
covered, but was full of pheasants. I shot whenever I 
caught sight of the flash of feathers, but neither dog nor 
hunter could do himself justice on such steep hillsides and 
in such bushes. We finally came out into the upper end of 
ihe vavine, where its sides were not so stecp. A pheasant 
flew up out of gunshot, but directed his flight to a low bank 
covered with bushes, We followed. ‘The dog stood, The 
bird stood. I stood. It was a triangular point; but finally. 
it flew—a lovely shot—and at thirty yards it pitched dead to 
the ground. 
It was now dinner time. From the side of the bank 
flowed a cool spring. Near it was an old log covered with 
moss. Here I would take my lunch. What an appetite 
hunting does give. How soft the golden sunshine falls 
through the trees. Here and there stands a maple whose 
yellow leaves still clinging to the tree gleam like burnished 
gold in the flood of light. How bravely the ferns, in their 
protected nooks along the stream, still hold aloft their deli- 
cate branches. Every season has its peculiar charms, but 
noné, in my eyes, is comparable to the time when summer is 
sinking, dying, but still beautiful, into the lap of winter. 
Above all, how unalloyed is the pleasure which comes from 
a bag well filled with game. No, even here will arise a 
regret over a shot that was made too quick or over one that 
was not made quick enough. In shooting, as im every thing 
else, all yirtue lies in the golden mean. Mount enjoyed his| 
BULLET VERSUS BUCKSHOT. 
Dear Brother Sportsmen: 
Thanks to our excellent medium, the Pormst ANT: STREAM, 
we can all, as it were, gather around one great. camp-fire: 
and relate our hunting and fishing experiences, how we 
brought low that big buck, made so fine a bag of birds, or 
captured a string of fish so pretty, and sometimes how we 
didn’t, though we may have been so near success. Our 
fondness for field sports, with the knowledge of each other 
gained through our organ, the Foresy anp SrrmamM, unite: 
us into one great brotherhoor, : . 
We may differ in our individual methods and implements 
used in the capture of our game, but that is but natural! 
when we consider the extent of dur country, and the 
diversified character of the shelter in which game is found, 
so let wi respect the opinions of all unless they be rank 
heresies. 
[think that most hunters who have pursued the deer i 
different parts of the country will agree with me—tbat in 
their proper place, there are equal merits in both bullet and 
buckshot, We canzot convince a hunter of the plains that 
there isa gun so good for his purpose as his rifle, or the 
mountaineer of the wilds of the Alleghanies a gun so good 
as his long, small-bore, muzzleloading rifle; while, with 
equal right, he who pursues the deer in the dense growth of 
the Southern lowlands, and some of the scrub pine and oak 
districts of the North, prefers the double-barrel shotgun 
with its deadly charge at short range. 
There are 2 few hunters in our country, a very few, who, 
with their favorite rifle, which seems almost a part of them- 
selves, can not only hit a moving deer, if seen but for @ 
moment within range, but can hit in a vital spot; their 
superior skill makes the rifle their proper weapon at all 
times; but the great majority of us, when hunting» deer in 
thick growth, mus! use the scatter-gun if we would be 
successtul. " 
I have hunted deer in growth so thick that they could not~ 
be seen more than twenty yards away, and I claim that a 
charge of buckshot is much more effective at such range 
than a rifle ball. If the deer is struck by a rifle ballin a 
vital spot, it will generally very soon succumb, but if 
elsewhere, the chances are good for a long chase after a 
wounded deer, unless the bullet be explosive, when the 
neryous shock and loss of blood from torn arteries, would: 
bring it down, ‘Now the charge of buckshot at short range: 
with its numerous small bullets striking the deer in variousi 
places will give it a fatal shock, though no so called vital! 
spot may be touched. 
Those who have shot deer within fifty yards with buck— 
‘ 
