28 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Feb. 5, 1885 



count the next highest score, aud it added zest to my appetite 

 when helping to discuss thegenerous dinner which was again 

 paid for by the party opposed to mine. 



I did all my shooting in those days with a No. 16 Jo. 

 Mauton muzzleloader, weighing 7 pounds, such as I had 

 upon the day in question. I always used No. 6 shot, 1 

 ounce with 3* drams of powder. If I missed the game it 

 was my fault. I have used all kinds of guns since that time, 

 but have never had one that gave me as much solid satisfac 

 tion as that little Man ton. Perhaps it was because I used it 

 in the first of ray manhood's days, when the blood pulsed 

 stronger in my veins and everything in life gave more satis- 

 faction. I have now settled down to the use of a No. 12 

 three-barreled Baker as the most useful, all-round gun. It 

 is heavy enough for ducks and geese on our California 

 plains, light enough for quail on the hillsides, and a handy 

 gun iu the higher sierras, where we need a barrel for a quail, 

 another for a grouse, and the third for a deer or bear, all 

 perhaps within a minute. But were I back again at the 

 East, where one seldom meets with auy game larger than a 

 fox, I would return to a 16-bore gun. I am fully in accord 

 with the opinious expressed by your correspondent "Cyr- 

 tonyx" on this same subject. With my old gun I always 

 used 1 ounce of No. 6 shot and 2£ drams powder for small 

 game; for ducks, 1£ ounces No. 4 shot and 2f drams powder; 

 iu fox hunting, before a hound, the same, quantity of powder 

 and 1| ounces No. 1 shot. With that charge I have killed a 

 large dog-fox dead in his tracks at 65 yards, and 1 have 

 ne^er done as well with a No. 10 bore, loaded with 5 drams 

 of powder and the same amount of shot. I will try some of 

 these long winter evenings to give you an account 'of a few 

 trips into the high sierras which I have enjoyed in this 

 Siate. Arefar. 



Attbttbn, Cat, 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



1 have Irom time to time noticed articles relative to the 

 devices resorted to by the common red fox for the purpose 

 of misleading hounds. An uncle, who was an ardent lover 

 of hunting, once related an incident which happened during 

 his career as a cioss-country rider. The hills upon which he 

 usually had a find are called Welsh Mountains, a chain run- 

 ning along the south side of Conestoga Valley, in Lancaster 

 county, Pa. His hounds never failed to give tongue at a 

 certain point on the mountain, and no amount of hard run- 

 ning forced the fox to earth, nor could the dogs gain one 

 foot over a certain distance. This- was rather perplexing, 

 inasmuch as my uncle's strain of hounds was pure, staunch 

 and fast. The hunts usually lasted from early dawn till 

 night, at which time the dogs were called off. After several 

 unsuccessful attempts to capture the fox, the old gentleman 

 determined if possible to fathom the mystery. One morn- 

 ing he rode to the spot at which his houuds usually made a 

 find, but before reaching the point his pack had started rey- 

 nard and were off across the. valley. He then carefully 

 searched the ground over which his hounds had trailed. Upon 

 coming to a small opening in the laurel thicket, he observed 

 a fallen tree supported at the top by a few branches, these 

 were sufficiently long to raise the end some ten feet from the 

 earth, the larger end or butt being held by a few roots. He 

 then, upon closer inspection, ascertained that it was hollow. 

 He was about to Uvrust a long pole into it. but was deterred 

 by the approaching cry of the dogs. He withdrew to the 

 shelter of the surrounding bushes into which he had scarcely 

 gone, when out of the copse opposite came the fox. Pausing 

 a moment to assure himself that he was not observed, reynard 

 sprang nimbly upon the fallen trunk and disappeared within 

 it. and before my uncle had recovered from his surprise, out 

 he popped at the smaller end, jumped to the ground, flirted 

 his "brush" and cantered off as lively as though he had not 

 already had a two hours' spin before the hounds. 



The hounds came on, ran around the old tree, took the 

 scent beyond, and were away without one moment's hesita- 

 tion or fault. My uncle says: "I thought I had him then;" 

 so be stopped the smaller end. While engaged in this he 

 heard a scratching noise within the log, and looking in at 

 the hole of entrance, was met by a fox retreating stern first, 

 To say that he captured him at once is needless. After 

 securing the animal he again hid in the friendly laurels. His 

 patience was soon rewarded by the welcome, music of his 

 pack. Master reynard, following the tactics of number one. 

 ran confidently into the log, only to be ignominiously hauled 

 out, bound foot and mouth, and slung with his mate across 

 the pommel of my uncle's saddle. 



These foxes were evidently mates, and had baffled every 

 hunter within miles by their combined cunning. One would 

 lead the hounds a merry chase for one or two hours, then, 

 when weary, return to the friendly hollow trunk to be re- 

 lieved by its companion, thus setting at naught every effort 

 to run either of them down or" to earth. M, D. 



Berks County, Pa. 



AN EPISODE. 



ONE day, a friend and I were watching our dogs quar- 

 tering a vast field hemmed in on three sides by a forest, 

 with a tangle of Spanish bayonet, saw palmetto, brush, 

 shrubs and vines skirting its edges and forming an almost 

 impenetrable barrier, amid which the blight scarlet berries 

 of the dogwood added a touch of color that brightened the 

 whole. A faint haze hung over the landscape and supreme 

 quiet reigned, for, besides ourselves and dogs, not a living 

 thing was visible, save the omnipresent buzzard sailing in 

 ever-widening circles overhead. 



From the cotton field that had given us entrance to this 

 place we had started three coveys of quail, each of which 

 had contributed its quota to our pockets, and we anticipated 

 some glorious sport before us, for we thought they would 

 surely scatter in the broom grass, and give us plenty to do 

 to take care of the singles and doubles. Rock made, a grand 

 point and was superbly backed by Dart, and as the birds 

 flushed my friend dropped one with each barrel, but I had to 

 be content with one. Bunching together, with never a swerve, 

 the whole darted straight across, and rising above the under- 

 brush, disappeared in the thickest part of the wood. The 

 next covey the dogs found flushed wild, and without a turn 

 or check followed exactly in the trail of the first. Ten 

 minutes later the third covey was found, and repeated the 

 same maneuver, save that 1 killed two crossing with my 

 right, and wounded one straggler with my left, but the birds 

 pur-ued exactly the same course, and disappeared over the 

 same bush of dogwood that the others had. 



This was becoming slightly monotonous, and when still 

 another bunch vanished without the loss of a feather, our 

 'eelings were too deep for words. Back and forth, to and 

 ji'o, we went, our dogs working grandly, but not another 

 mil was found, and after another hour passed, 1 vowed tha]t 



those birds would be found if it took me the rest of the day. 



My companion had bruised himself by a fall, so I volun- 

 teered to try it alone, leaving him to watch the field and 

 mark down the birds if they returned. Calling both dogs 

 to heel, the first attempt to penetrate the thicket led to igno- 

 minious failure, but by dint of backing myself through the 

 thorny vines, I found my course considerably easier, but 

 often having to crawl close to the earth, which I did with 

 many a quake, as a perfect horror of a snake has always 

 possessed me that in vain I have tried to overcome, but as 

 none were seen I breathed easier. Through vines and brush 

 we took our way, the dogs crouched close to heel, until 

 emerging from the tangle a little knoll showed itself as an 

 opening, while far beyond, the open pine forest was stretch- 

 ing toward the Ashley, Hot and panting, with nerves all 

 unstrung from my violent exertions, I leaned against a great 

 live oak to rest, where the sunlight had found an opening 

 overhead and rested on the little knoll. 



Amid the vines and brush was a lonely grave shaded by 

 massive oaks, whose moss-grown branches formed a shelter- 

 ing veil, and whose sighing branches sung a constant 

 requiem in the. breeze. 



A simple marble slab marked it, with this simple legend 

 engraved : 



: TOOUEMAUMA. 



This sign of love and devotion was a sermon in itself, as I 

 gazed at this last resting place of one whose skin, though 

 dark, was yet no bar to trust and love. Prom the boughs 

 above came a low, throbbing song, and as when one in 

 dreamland seems to hear the faint tinkle of bells, or the sub- 

 dued rippling of the waves muffled and far off; so this sweet 

 melody spoke to my heart through the minstrel of nature. 

 Musing and thinking thus the dogs had been forgotten until 

 a cold nose touched my hand and called me to myself. 



Staunch as his name stood Rock beside the almost hidden 

 mound, with every muscle drawn and tense; butasl stepped 

 forward it was with lowered gun, and when with a mighty 

 whizz and rush the coveys darted away, no roar of gun dese- 

 crated that peaceful spot, for, though loving sport with all 

 ray iieart, to me it would have been sacrilege even to have 

 attempted the life of a quail in that retreat. I returned to 

 the fields and had most glorious sport, but the recollection of 

 the shooting is less vivid than the picture of that louely 

 grave under the oaks of the Palmetto State. Onondaga. 



GUNS, HAWKS, PRAIRIE DOGS, WELLS. 



Editor Forest and. Stream: 



We are having a very rough spell of weather for these 

 parts. For more than a month we have had a constant suc- 

 cession of wet northers, with only an occasional intermis- 

 sion of a bright, cheery, lovable day. In that time we have 

 had two snows, and one of these, is now resting upon us. 

 The lowest point touched by the mercury— at least I have 

 seen no lower— is 13 : above zero. This is sharp business for 

 this region, though there are men in Canada who, 1 presume, 

 would think it was vernal breezes. Indeed there are prob- 

 ably men along the Hudson who would take it to be "Zephyr 

 with Aurora maying." But I like to see this outrageous 

 weather in Texas. An unusually cold, wet winter is to us 

 a faithful prophet of a great crop year following, when we 

 overflow with all manner of good things. Those are the 

 years when we grow proud and scornful, and become liable 

 to be led astray by the devil. I have an old friend who has 

 lived in Texas nearly fi fty years. He loves sporting and 

 whisky, but is a very prudeut and economical man. He 

 never allows his expenses to overreach his income. When 

 we have a mild, dry winter he never buys more than a gal- 

 lon of whisky at a time, and that not oftener than once a 

 month. During such winters that man must be very dear 

 to him whom he will invite to drink with him at his house. 

 When we have a cold, wet winter he buys a barrel at a time, 

 and no man can enter his house and be allowed to leave 

 before he is filled quite up to the stoppers. I had a letter 

 from him yesterday inviting me to come down and stay a 

 week with him, saying the deer, ducks and pigeons were so 

 plentiful they had become saucy, and adding that he had 

 just put in his cellar two barrels of whisky, one old Bour- 

 bon and the other sour mash, "of the vintage of '73." This 

 shows his unbounded faith that we shall have great crops 

 this year. 



But 1 did not set out to write about the weather and the 

 crops. I merely intended to write a little note or two about 

 things suggested by reading the Forest and Stream of the 

 loth by ttie bright red-oak fire. "Cyrtonix" says the best 

 shotgun is that which needs bushing least; in other words, 

 that the best is the smallest bore. That accords somewhat 

 with my observation, and then it does not. The best gun I 

 ever used was the first I ever used. It was an English-made, 

 percussion lock, single-barrel gun, bore not less than 8 or 9, 

 and it may have been larger. It was my father's gun. I 

 ave done some of the most extraordinary shooting with 

 that shotgun that ever mortal did. A squirrel would find 

 no tree so tall that I could not readily fetch him from its 

 top. When out hunting with that gun I never asked how 

 far the game was, but where it was. I saw my father kill a 

 crane stone dead with it exactly 101 yards away, and 1 am 

 sure I have often killed game with it a greater distance than 

 that. The shot that killed the crane was not larger than 4's 

 or 8's, and I rarely used larger than No 6, usually using No. 

 8. What seemed remarkable to me, and may seem so to 

 some others, tbis gun did much better work with smaller 

 shot than with larger ones, which latter she scattered too 

 much. She was either 32 or 34 inches long; at all events 

 she was a long gun as well as a big one. She had a stunning 

 reputation in the neighborhood, and the boys used to allow 

 me to brag about her without gainsaying anything. 



But there was a preacher in that neighborhood who had 

 a gun that was a stunner also. The first time I went hunt- 

 ing with that reverend man of God I couldn't help but laugh 

 at him when I saw his artillery. It was a long gun, as light 

 as a wisp, and had a bore that seemed no bigger than a 

 dainty lady's little finger. It was a ridiculous little gun to 

 me, but when I saw how the preacher knocked the squirrels 

 from the tops of the biggest oaks in the bottoms, L gave it up 

 that his little thing was a whale next in order to my own, 

 and ever afterward 1 looked upon it with profound respect, 

 which, as my acquaintance with it grew, almost turned into 

 a superstition. The rascally little gun could wipe down the 

 game just as far as mine could and did if with half the. fuss. 

 The idea got into the heads of us boys that the ridiculous 

 little gun behaved so admirably simply because it was the 

 property of a preacher, and not from any inherent virtues 

 of its own. The letter of "Cyrtonix" leads me to believe 

 that the gun did s's> well from its own internal virtues. 



The preacher's gun was also a single-barrel, and I am not 

 sure if it was not a flint-lock. Double-barrel guns were not 

 common in those days. 



Following the example of "Graeme." I will state that 1 now 

 use a Colt double-barrel breechloader, 12- bore, 30 inch barrels. 

 She cost $65 only, at the factory, but she is a very fine 

 shooter. For a quail gun I could not ask for a better one, 

 but she would be better for ducks if she had two inches more 

 of barrel. However, I have been loading all my shells alike; 

 that is, with 3 drams of powder and an ounce of shot. I 

 think I will take the hint from "Graeme" and hereafter put 

 Si drams of powder in my duck shells. It may be that I 

 will then have no cause of complaint against my gun in duck 

 shooting. 



I have read numbers of "remarkable shots" by various 

 correspondents in your columns. Now let me tell you of 

 one "remarkable shot" which I witnessed. The fellow who 

 delivered that shot was a hawk and not a man. I was gun- 

 ning near Lorraine, a station on the Texas & Pacific Railroad, 

 in a region where people are veiy scarce and hawks very 

 numerous and impudent. Two quails rose before me and 

 flew in nearly opposite directions. The first fell dead about 

 twenty yards away. About forty yards off the second re- 

 ceived my fire. There was a cloud of feathers in the air, and 

 he tumbled toward the ground also. But while he was fall- 

 ing a hawk shot at him like an arrow, seizing him while vet 

 in the air, and bore him off in triumph. Now I call that a 

 "remarkable shot"— not for distance or anything of that 

 kind, but for downright, unadulterated impudence, It was 

 snatching the food out of the very mouth of the lion. As 

 that hawk flew saucily by me with my bird. I fancied that 

 he said, "Now, old fellow, how do you like that?" and 

 I verily believe he did say something of the sort. He 

 was a small hawk, just above the sparrow hawk in size, and 

 of a very rakish air. His sort are numerous on the Slaked 

 Plain, where they worry the blue quails terribly. Pray give 

 me the name by which this dashing little villain is known on 

 the scientific shore. I do not recollect seeing him in tbis 

 part of Texas. 



Now I want to ask Forest and Stream or any of its 

 readers to solve me a riddle which has caused me a great 

 deal of thinking. It is this: Where do those pmirie dogs 

 which have their towns miles and miles from any visible 

 waters get their water? Cau they live and flourish for weeks 

 without water, or do they, as some say, dig down to water 

 in the earth? 



I have seen thousands of these little animals many miles 

 from water; indeed, their towns are usually a long distance 

 from water, and yet they are just as lively and fat in such 

 localities as where water is easily accessible. I should not 

 judge from their looks that they are an animal that can live 

 long without water, but the great majority of them must do 

 so unless tbey bore down to subterranean fountains. 



The great interest I feel in this question, apart from the 

 scientific feature, is this: I have a mind to dig some wells 

 in the vast prairies of Northwest Texas, where water is very- 

 scarce and prairie dotrs very abundant. These lands are 

 extremely fertile aud lack ouly wafer to make them very 

 valuable." Now if it be. decided that prairie dog.s cannot 

 live without water, aud that they must bore down to subter- 

 ranean water when so situated that they cannot obtain it at 

 the surface, it simplifies matters to me very much; for I am 

 sure it these dogs can bore down to water," I can too, 



N. A. T. 



Palestine, Texas, Jan. 19, 1886. 



MAINE LUMBERMEN AND GUIDES. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Now that the ice is broken perhaps a httle more from my 

 pen will not be amiss. In your issue of Jan. 8, Mr. Hardy 

 has made out quite a story as to what his experience has been 

 for a great many years past as a merchant in the city of 

 Bangor, and in trips made to the hunting and fishing sections 

 in the eastern part of our State, also his acquaintance with 

 visiting sportsmen, guides and lumbermen. 



It is not without a feeling of delicacy that I attempt to 

 criticise some of the statements made by a man whose ex- 

 perience, perhaps, dates back to the time of my birth. If 

 Thorean is to be believed, a man does not have to live a life 

 time to learn a few things, and as my home and business for 

 the past fifteen years has been with the sportsmen and 

 lumbermen directly on the ground I ought to understand 

 both parties pretty well by this time. 



I have handled the ax with the lumberman in the logging- 

 swamp, and the cant-dog and pick pole on the drive, and 

 although from the lack of experience and muscle 1 could 

 not take the heart of the spruce from the "Kennebeck 

 Linger" or ride out a "white water jam" with the "Penob- 

 scot Bubble Walker," like the old man's mare on the trotting 

 course, I was generally ' 'a coming somewhere. " The lumber- 

 man's license when he is in the settlement is not limited, and 

 the opinion that Mr. Wells expressed is a very general one 

 formed by people who have seen more of them than he has, 

 and if you do the average lumberman no greater injustice 

 than to think him a "hard crowd" you will never make an 

 enemy of him. 



As'a class, there are no better-hearted men iu the world 

 than the lumbermen, but one must camp with them more 

 than one night to understand them. I have "spooned up" 

 to the man, many a night on the drive, when forty of us 

 would crowd into a thirty-man berth, who, although he 

 would "paint the town red" when he got started, would 

 coddle me, slide one of his strong arms under my head for a 

 pillow while his other made a brace to keep the men from 

 nearly squeezing the life out of me; he "would not see the 

 boy crowded," and now that the boy has got his growth and 

 can stand the crowding, he does not forget his lumbermen 

 friends by any means. 



Had Mr. Hardy summered with the visiting sportsmen for 

 twelve successive seasons, as I have, i am sure he would see 

 see them in a different light from what he appears now to see 

 them. To be sure, we have some of the class he has spoken 

 of; but where we have one of that class we have fifty of a 

 far different class, more who are like Mr. Wells. Although 

 Mr. Wells's critics say that he has selfish motives in writing 

 these articles, I can affirm that he has not; it is only one of 

 many acts of kindness, "with no personal interests in view," 

 and when they are read in the same spirit in which they are 

 written, they will be understood right. If the percentage is 

 very largely in favor of the better class, are not the people 

 who come in contact with them much more likely to tie ele- 

 vated than they are to be corrupted? In all my being with 

 sportsmen, none of them ever attempted to pour any liquor 

 down my throat. When the flask was passed, a few words 

 to the effect of "Thank you, sir, but I never take it," were 

 generally all that was needed ; and much of tener I have had 



