July 2, 1885.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



449 



ledge of rocks in his blind desperation be went, but Betty 

 -went too, and when Tom finally reached the scene the 

 battle was over, the deer dead, and Betty unharmed aud 

 ready for the next. 



Tom brought two deer into camp, Curtis one, the Germans 

 two, and Foucab a dozen or more grouse. Next morning 

 the burro man passed our camp on his way homeward The 

 little burro was trudging bravely and steadily along under 

 what seemed more'than his own weight of venison. The 

 burro man shouted good-bye, aud holding up his empty 

 sleeve said, ''Fred, it got" bit off in Missouri," and he 

 journeyed on. That was the last we saw of him and bis 

 partner; on short acquaintance good fellows both. 



Several days later we struck across country, intending to 

 hunt back toward Inyan Kara, by way of Wiud River, 

 Mason and Arch creeks. Some call the first mentioned 

 stream Wind River and others call it Wind Greek. We did 

 not consult any authorities as to which was the proper name, 

 bat about the wind part there was no mistake. We saw no 

 water and but. little ice. We saw wind and plenty of it too. 

 The old channel was full of it and overflowing. If had 

 blown the water somewhere high and dry. Wind Creek or 

 River was appropriately named for a fact; and dry season or 

 wet it will never be empty. 



We were on the wrong side of it for our puiposeand drove 

 nearly all day before we could find a crossing place, aud even 

 then 'it was a "ground hog case." We just naturally had to 

 make the attempt, for wood and water were in sight on the 

 opposite side. We had amused ourselves by shooting sage 

 hens, which, with our consent, the Germans had loaded into 

 their wagons. Old hens and cocks they must have been and 

 rank, and the fresh zephyrs stirred up and doubled their 

 rankness. 



We made the crossing with much geeing aud hawing and 

 liberal apphcations of the breaks and whips with a little 

 amalgam of nervous Saxon, such as is prescribed for horses 

 in like emergencies the world over. Driving into the timber 

 for camp we stalled a fine whitetail from his afternoon's 

 nap. Fred pursued him and brought him into camp by dark 

 aud loaded him into the German band wagon among his other 

 specimens and sage hens. After an early morning's hunt 

 we continued our homeward journey. We camped that 

 night on Mason Greek. Nothing in the creek except ice, 

 which we had to melt for ourselves and horses. 



The next day we came to a fine spring on Arch Cre&k, and 

 with good water and feed and wood we camped and hunted 

 with success enough to add four deer to our load, and then 

 set out for home. Inyan Kara Mountain, bleak and black, 

 was in sight, but many miles away. Noontime came, and 

 Inyan Kara, much nearer, was clothed in purplish blue, and 

 when we again rested at Coltalluks it had put on its evening 

 dress of green. 



Our trip to the Belle Fourche, though it had been an en- 

 joyable one, had not resulted as satisfactorily as we antici- 

 pated, and after distributing our captures among Mr. Coital- 

 luck's friends and neighbors, and resting a few days, we out- 

 lined a programme for a week's hunt in what Tom called 

 the Cold Spring country, some fifteen miles from Inyan 

 Kara, and thither we went. The German element was elimi- 

 nated at their own request, as they said they had meat 

 enough to supply their bachelor wants for the winter. 



The Cold Spring valley is quite narrow, and the sunshine 

 visits it but a few hours during the day. The stream is nar- 

 row but deep, with a very rapid motion, and carries a large 

 quantity of water which is very free from alkali. The deer 

 were fairly plenty, and five days' hunt loaded our wagon 

 and half a day's drive brought us to our temporary home 

 again. 



The white, soft-winged heralds were here. Winter was 

 no longer in any season's lap, but had commenced to assert 

 itself in earnest; and recognizing aud appreciating that fact, 

 we were loth to dispute its claims, much preferring to devote 

 our unoccupied time to shin toasting before Coltalluk's 

 cheerful fireplace, until it became necessary for us to journey 



SOUth. MlLliAKD. 



Bear Creek, Wy. 



FIREWATER. 



[ffrom an unpublished addendum to "Woodcraft."] 



Fellmo Sportsmen, Hunters, Anglers, Canoeists: 



When, in organizing your duffle for an outiDg you are 

 tempted to add a stock of Old Crow or brandy, remember 

 the advice of Punch to people contemplating marriage, 

 "Don't." 



It is of no earthly benefit, and is a disturbing element 

 in camp for the most part. I have tried it scores of times, 

 and have gone to the woods for long hunts without any 

 strong liquor quite as often. I am no prohibition crank, not 

 even a temperance man. But my verdict, based on forty 

 years' experience, is decidedly against firewater in camp. 



It is true that, on coming into camp at dusk after an ex- 

 haustive day's tramp without food, a moderate drink of 

 whisky or brandy will tone up the flaccid muscles and liven 

 up the tired hunter in a most grateful manner. And if the 

 stuff were only used on such occasions there would be no ob- 

 jections to it. But the truth is, if liquor be taken into camp 

 it will certainly be drank. And it is pretty certain that it 

 will be used just when it is least needed ; while in cases of 

 exhaustion a drink made from Jamaica ginger or a cup of 

 strong green tea is equally refreshing and more healthful. 



I am not offering a temperance lecture, only giving an 

 opinion founded on a pretty extensive experience on both 

 sides of the question; and I say without prejudice that it is 

 better to leave all sorts of firewater at home. 



It is not an antidote for snake bites, let alone the fact that 

 you are much more likely to be struck by lightning than bit- 

 ten by a poisonous snake. 



I can recall only two instances in which I found strong 

 liquor of any positive benefit. 



Once I was in camp far up the trackless banks of the 

 Second Fork of Pine Creek, when a little after midnight I 

 was taken with a sudden and violent attack of pleurisy, 

 The night was pitch dark and rainy. It was fifteen miles to 

 the nearest medical aid, and no man could find his way out 

 until daylight. It was reasonable to suppose that I would be 

 dead long before a doctor could be brought to camp. We 

 tried heavily folded towels wrung out in hot water, but. the 

 fiend that was rapidly shortening my breath was uot to be 

 stopped with hot water. And then as a last resort, 1 had 

 four thicknesses of dry paper folded into a six-inch square, 

 saturated with brandy and fitted snugly over the seat of 

 pain, and then got a friend to touch me off with a lighted 

 splinter. It was what you might call heroic treatment; but 

 it was effectual. It cooked me pretty thoroughly down to 

 the ribs, but the pleurisy left as suddenly as it came. It was 

 three months before the burn was thoroughly healed. 



Counter irritants, to be effective, should be applied without 

 any childish dread of pain. 



The other iustauce referred to happened in Tuscola county, 

 Michigan, where I was hunting with a doctor to whom I 

 had brought a letter from a mutual friend. The doctor was 

 a "little, short, fat, fodgel wight," but an ardent sportsman, 

 and he led me to a camp on the waters of White River, miles 

 away from the nearest road, and by a very puzzling route. 

 Game was exceedingly plenty, the weather fine, and the 

 doctor's appetite move than good, it struck me he was eat- 

 ing more than was good for him, just to save the game from 

 waste. Anyhow, on the fourth day, and just as we were 

 ready to break camp, he was taken with what Byron men- 

 tions as 



* * * "a pain 



"About the lower region of tbe bowels." 

 At first he thought it an ordinary attack of colic. The 

 only medicine in camp was a small vial of laudanum and 

 half a pint of strong kauuck spirits. The laudanum failed 

 to relieve and the medico rapidly grew worse. He lay on 

 his back, loosened his clothes and roared with pain. He ex- 

 pressed his opinion as a medical man that he had a most vio- 

 lent attack of bilious colic, and was more than likely to die 

 miserably right there in camp. I was a trifle frightened my- 

 self, and" hastened to get some water up to the boiling point. 

 But hot towels failed to relieve audit began to look serious. 

 Then I told him of my own case, and said 1 thought a fire 

 blister would relieve him in ten minutes, "Go ahead and 

 try it," he yelled. So I made an eight-inch square of dry 

 paper, four thicknesses deep, saturated it thoroughly with 

 spirits, and fitted it snugly to his capacious abdomen. Warn- 

 ing him that his life rnisrht depend on standing the fire with- 

 out flopping, I touched him off. There was a blue flash, a 

 quick blaze for a few seconds, and the business was done. 

 Not only was there a most effective blister the size of the 

 paper, but quite a number of minor blisters where the alco- 

 hol had slopped over in adventitious rills. During the opera- 

 tion he kept up a dismal howl with no ups or downs in it. 

 But he managed to keep quiet, and the cure was almost im- 

 mediate. We staid in camp until next morning, when the 

 doctor cached his rifle and knapsack, took a cane in one 

 hand, held his clothes aloof from his burned abdomen with 

 the other, and led the way out to the clearings at a snail's 

 pace, I following behind. It was the most laughable bur- 

 lesque pantomime I have ever seen. But 1 dared not laugh — 

 not aloud. And after all it is not certain that alcohol was 

 so very necessary in the doctor's case. Four thicknesses of 

 blazing paper would pretty well blister a tender cuticle. Or, 

 if worst came to worst, and there was no paper in camp, I 

 dare say I could have built an efficient bonfire on his belly 

 with a handful of dry leaves. 



Why do I write thus? Well, a life in the woods does not 

 always give immunity from sudden attacks of dangerous 

 maladies. 



I know of one instance where a hardy professional hunter 

 perished miserably in camp with pleurisy. I know another 

 case where a strong, healthy hunter and trapper was attacked 

 by inflammation of the bowels. He was packed out of the 

 woods by four stout men, only to die in a day or two at 

 home. Either of these cases would have been relieved at 

 once by an unflinching application of the fire blister. I 

 could give other instances, but the above will serve to illus- 

 trate the value of pluck and forethought. Nessmtjk. 



regarding the Engels. I am fully inclined to think Ezra 

 Engel the first gunsmith in Pennsylvania west of the Alle- 

 ghenies. 



P. S.— Barnes Engel, Greensboro, Greene county, Pa., 

 might, be written to, but he is uow so old and decrepit that 

 his information would not likely be of much value, his mem- 

 ory being untrustworthy, though he still knows how to sight 

 a gun. ' Amateuu. 



Somerset, Pa., June 80, 1868. 



A s 



THE PRAIRIE CHICKENS. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



The chickens are hatching out all right, as the weather 

 could not be any better for them. They are coming off with 

 full clutches. There are three nests this year to every one 

 last season in this locality. J. R. O. 



Dwight, 111., June 20. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Owing to the cold and rainy spring we have had, I am 

 afraid the young prairie chickens have suffered. I have seen 

 none as yet, and this is just my opinion from observation. 

 Quail seem quite plenty, and 1 believe now they are protected. 



Anita, Iowa, June 21. C. B. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



This immediate locality has never been considered very 

 favorable prairie chicken ground, but as the area of culti- 

 vated ground increases that species of game becomes more 

 abundant. Last winter a covey of forty-six was seen in my 

 field, and this summer almost every field has one or more 

 broods. 



I do not know of a pointer or setter dog in town, mine 

 having been stolen. This would be good missionary ground 

 for the owner of a good dog when the open season com- 

 mences. 



The ruffed grouse crop promises to be even unusually 

 abundant despite the persistent market-hunting of last year. 

 The birds wintered well and young broods are now numerous. 



Several deer have been seen near the village of late, and 

 the want of a good tracking snow during the open season for 

 two years in succession has undoubtedly tended to the in- 

 crease of this noble game. J. F. Locke. 



Pillsbury, Minn. 



THE FIRST AMERICAN RIFLES. 



Editor F<yrest and Stream: 



I notice in Foeest and Stream of June 18 a communi- 

 cation from Hon. Spencer F. Baird requesting information 

 on this subject. In reply I present the following: 



My grandmother was the youngest of thirteen children 

 and she was born in 1785, The eldest of these children mar- 

 ried Ezra Engel (pronounced Ingle), a German by descent, 

 and a gunsmith, Engel made no guns but rifles. He lived 

 for many years in Greensboro, Greene county, Pa. His 

 brother, Barnes Engel, still lives there, a man over eighty 

 years old. Ezra Engel went to Cape Girardeau, Mo., about 

 1840, where his descendants still live. I have seen a ''deer 

 gun" bearing his brand which has been altered from a flint- 

 lock to a percussion lock, and which is known to have been 

 in the family owning it for more than 100 years. This gun 

 is peculiar in having a gain twist. It carries a ball which 

 runs 48 to the pound, and, according to the notches on its 

 stock, has killed many a deer, bear and redskin. 



The Engels were all gunsmiths, and 1 have no doubt they 

 sent many guns into the American ranks during the Revolu- 

 tion. I have no doubt that letters to Hon. C. A. Black, 

 Waynesburg, Greene county, Pa.; James A. Black. Esq., 

 Greensboro, Greene county, Pa.; Elias C. Storie, Esq., 

 Greensboro, Greene county, Pa. ; George Engel, Cape Girar- 

 deau, Cape Girardeau county, Mo., and Ben F. Stone, Brown- 

 ing, Linn county. Mo., will elicit much reliable information 



THE RED DEER OF KILLARNEY. 



S in the New World, so has it been in tbe Old from time 

 immemorial. All kinds of game are becoming scarce. 

 The Irish elk, the wolf and wolf dog are traditions of the 

 past, in the Green Isle. Except in parks, the red deer no 

 longer roams over "Merrie England." It is still common in 

 the highlands of Scotland, but the original stock in Ireland 

 is only to be seen on the mountain ranges round Killarney. 



There are many ancient races, and many old, noble and 

 long descended houses aud families in Ireland and Scotland. 

 But can any of them pretend to a presumptive title of pos- 

 session, even approaching to that of the red deer? They hold 

 their privileges by the true lex terra:, by a law antecedent to 

 all customs, usages, grants or patents. They are the true 

 aboriginal owners of "the lake districts, their inalienable, un- 

 perfectcd forests, walks and pastures. They range at will 

 within "their own manor and hunting ground," indifferent 

 to what men may call change of ownership, or new title in 

 the lower world. These denizens look from the green val- 

 leys and hoar hills in calm indifference upon the ephemeral 

 possessions and visitors of successive generations. The laws 

 of primogeniture have preserved a few of the ancient land- 

 marks. In Ireland, were it not for the late Col. Herbert, my 

 father, the last of the old Irish red deer at Kiliarney would 

 long since have passed away, gone to condole with the 

 ghosts of the Irish elk and wolf. Owing to his fostering 

 care, where there were but few left there are now many 

 hundreds, and they afford much pleasure to sportsmen and 

 lovers of nature. 



In October the deer-stalker in our country has to put aside 

 his rifle. The first bell of the hart is a notice for him to 

 quit, so that these wild denizens of the woods may carry on 

 their courting at their leisure. An American friend was 

 staying with me, at Muckross, at the end of the fall— the 

 weather was all that could be desired. The light frosts were 

 beginning to touch the woods with every variety of shade, 

 which though not so magnificent as the gorgeous coloring of 

 the American autumn, is still very beautiful, and gives the 

 wondrous alternation of tints that are the autumnal charm 

 of the scenery of Killarney, though, alas, it is also a pre- 

 monitory sympton of the fast-closing season, and the wild 

 blasts of November. 



The red stags were heard through the day all round the 

 woods on the various points of Tore and Mangerton mount- 

 ains. As evening fell the sounds became louder and more 



we will climb Tore a little way, and Ithinkl may be able to 

 show you something not easily seen elsewhere, at least on 

 this side of the channel, or below the Grampians." My 

 friend while accepting the invitation expressed serious doubts 

 as to his powers of climbing the steep sides of Tore, fearing 

 that shortness of his breath might prevent his following me 

 over ground which in those clays was as easy for me to tread 

 as the velvet lawn in front of my house. But the hopes of 

 seeiug the belling harts in their homes overcame all these 

 scruples. 



About three the next day we started for the haunts, where 

 I knew some of the largest antlered lords of the forest would 

 be congregated. Our way led through the woods of Muck- 

 ross, by the waterfall path of Tore cascade and so on to the 

 partly wooded and partly cleared hills in the defile which 

 separates Tore and Mangerton Mountains. 



When we had attained this point, the belling from 

 the woods all around became more frequent, nearer 

 and louder; we were in the midst of red deer, but 

 were not able to see them, owing to the roughness of the 

 ground and the interlacing of larch trees. My deer-stalking 

 experience was now to be put in practice. Enjoining perfect 

 silence we crept from tree to tree with stealthy pace and oc- 

 casionally sweeping the opposite brow of Hangerton with a 

 deer glass to discover some of the numerous harts which 

 were belling and calling, some in defiance, others iu loye. 

 In a few moments I saw one, and handing my companion 

 the telescope, he was enabled to see a fine, well-grown hart 

 standing like a warder at his post on a projecting crag and 

 sending forth his challenge to all rivals and antagonists. 

 This animal reminded us of a living example of Laudseer's 

 famous picture, "The Monarch of the Glen." My friend 

 feasted his eyes to his heart's content, while 1 made off sev- 

 eral more deer on the side of the hill around us. Most of 

 them were hinds moving uneasily about as if uncertain to 

 which of the invitations from the challenging suitors below 

 they should respond favorably. 



In the excitement of the moment all fears of fatigue had 

 fled from my friend, and a whispered question, "Is there no 

 chance of seeing them nearer?" recalled me to a sense of 

 duty. "We will try," I replied; and advancing cautiously 

 into the wood on the left, on Mangerton side of the pass, we 

 were presently stealing among trees and underwood as thick 

 as a jungle. The red deer were moving in all directions, 

 but see them we could not. One hart, which from the tone 

 of his voice must have been a heavy beast, seemed to come 

 directly through the thicket opposite us, but just at its edge 

 he stopped, and with an alarmed gruut turned away. He 

 had avidently got the wind of us, which he did not like, and 

 moved off in suspicion and alarm. Soon his challenge was 

 again heard in the distance. 



" "This won't do," said I, turning to my friend; "we must 

 try ground that has never failed ire yet. It was too early 

 before, and we were sure to find them in the cliffs and open- 

 ings above the waterfall. Retracing our steps a short way, 

 and wading down and over Tore stream, we presently found 

 ourselves on the edge of a piece of open woodland where the 

 timber is of older growth, chiefly oak, overshadowing thG 

 greensward, perfectly free from brushwood, which enabled 

 us to glide from tree to tree without noise or difficulty. 

 Strict silence was the order of the day, and my companion 

 was compelled to play one of the games of his youth, "fol- 

 low my leader." 



The belling here was as loud and tumultuous as ever, and 

 at leugth, through the still, frosty air, we heard something 

 like a clashing, not of cold steel, but of branching antlers. 

 I advanced a short way among the rocks, and beckoning tt 

 my companiou, whispered, "We have them," and stealing 



