368 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[June 3, 1886. 



What thousands of thoughts of moose-killing rushed into 

 my mind as I crouched on the snow, right on the trail, right 

 in the path of the maned monster, that was tearing through 

 the timber toward us. It several times occurred to me that 

 it was most likely he would kill me, but I lay and bode my 

 time. Then, just as he was within twenty yards of tramp- 

 ling on us. I sprang to my feet, shouting: 



"Now Jim!" 



With two awful snorts that I shall not soon forget, the 

 moose sprang to one side, and for a moment stood and stared, 

 uncertain what to do. 



"With a plunge the monster started off again, crashing 

 through the woods. My heart sank terribly as I thought 

 how like this was to my former failures. But strange "to 

 tell, the moose came to a dead halt only eighty yards away, 

 in full view, and again stared at us. Then in an imploring 

 voice of terrible earnestness, I heard Jim behind me: "Oh, 

 Ernest ! be careful this time!" I took steady aim for his 

 shoulder and fired; then as he again went off at his former 

 furious pace, I sent a third ball whistling after him. 



With feelings of mingled hope and fear we crossed over to 

 his trail, and there— oh! savage glee, at every stride was a 

 jet of blood. What a thrill of hope and triumph. 



"Our moose. Jim, if I have to follow to Brandon!" 



"Not so far as that," said Jim, pointing to the crimson 



And away we ran on the trail like wolves, fairly gloating 

 over the continued jets of blood. 



There are glorious dyes in the sunset skies 



There's splendor in heaven's fail- bow, 

 There's noblest color in beauty's bright eyes, 



To kindle our feelings, I know. 

 But to stir up the inmost soul of a man, 



Aud to fire him with frenzied glow, 

 To double his manhood, yet prove him a brute, 



There never were richer, brighter dyes, 

 Than the spotless white where it crimsoned lies, 



With a life being spilt on the snow. 



I had read so much of the tremendous distances that a 

 moose will travel, even with a 

 mortal wound, that I was pre- 

 pared for a ten mile run, but to 

 my surprise, before we had run 

 four hundred yards, Jim shouted 

 "Here he is." 



Sure enough, there he lay, 

 with his knees doubled under 

 him, like an ox in pasture. As 

 we drew near he looked back 

 calmly over his shoulder. 



"Guess we better bleed him," 

 said Jim. 



"Guess you better look out,'' 

 said I, "I'd as soon go near a 

 wounded lion as a wounded 

 moose." 



"Well, let's give him a couple 

 more balls." 



So we both fired into him 

 without the slightest visible 

 effect. 



"Let's go 'round to his head." 



Accordingly we went around, 

 keeping at a safe distance. Jim 

 was about to fire when our vic- 

 tim's head drooped, then fell 

 flat. 1 put a ball through his 

 brain, his legs straightened out, 

 quivered and lay still. The 

 moose was dead. 



Jim bled him. Then we 

 stood for a few minutes gazing 

 on the magnificent beast with 

 feelings of rapture and triumph; 

 feelings, in my case, not un- 

 mingled with regret that what 

 was once such a noble animal 

 should be lying at our feet, 

 shorn of its majestic beauty, and 

 now no more than a great load 

 of butcher meat. 



But we were not yet in safe 

 possession; we feared that the 

 Indians were on his trail. So 



we went back to where we first saw him and satisfied ourselves 

 that there was no blood on the snow until after we had fired. 



"Now," said I, "we'll draw cuts for who's to go to Car- 

 berry for a team and who's to guard the moose." 



"No," said Jim, "I'll go to Carberry; you know better 

 what to do if the Indians come and claim the moose." 



As I knew that I was the better traveler, and was, more- 

 over, well acquainted with the country, I would have pre- 

 ferred to run for the team; but Jim was determined to be the 

 messenger, so I settled to guard our quarry. 



It was now about 11 A. M. For a while I amused myself 

 examining the splendid animal. By the stretch cf my arms 

 he stood six feet three inches at the shoulders, and to this 

 must be added the height of a mane over six inches long. I 

 estimated him to weigh about 800 pounds. After a little I 

 went back on the trail to examine the places he had passed 

 through and learn, if possible, the effect of each ball, lor not 

 one had missed its mark. Then, as I went a little further, 

 my eye caught something moving through the woods. Soon 

 I saw that it was an Indian coming toward me. Immedi- 

 ately I turned and set off toward our moose, but he overtook 

 me before I arrived there: He was certainly the least pre- 

 possessing savage I had ever seen. At the outset he saluted 

 me in a characteristic manner by giving me a grunt. Not 

 having any particular use for it, I at once returned it. My 

 stock of Indian was very limited and his stock of English 

 was still smaller, so that our conversation throughout was 

 carried on chiefly by means of dumb show. Presently he 

 said, "Moose." Whereat I grunted in that peculiar tone 

 which gives to the sound the signification of "You bet." 

 Then we came to the carcass and he said "moose" again, 

 and, pointing to himself and his gun, made as though about 

 to take possession. Thereupon I pushed him back and in- 

 formed him that his calculations were founded on erroneous 

 data. Having gazed on me for a second or two with an 

 aspect of doting tenderness, he proceeded to go through the 

 pantomime of shooting twice, then pointed to the wounds 

 made by Jim's rifle, as they were too large for my piece, but 

 I pointed to Jim's weapon and spoiled that move. Once or 

 twice he made a move toward the animal, but I stood be- 

 tween with my rifle cocked. Whereat he kept up a refrain 



of "Wah nich seechy" with such energy that I was afraid 

 he meant something uncomplimentary, but I afterward found 

 that this meant only, "No, brother, you are very bad." 



Of course, I was unwilling to resort to violence, but he 

 saw that I was going to hold on to the deer at any price, so 

 he changed his aspect and made show of dividing, and each 

 taking half. To this amiable suggestion I replied with an 

 energetic "Kawain," which literally means "veto," but with 

 my strong inflection meant, at least, "you can bet your life 

 1 won't." 



I was hungry now, and having my dinner with me, I sat 

 on the moose and ate it, all the time' holding my rifle ready, 

 pausing now and then to veto by a large majority all the 

 motions for equitable division brought forward by the mem- 

 ber for Dakota, for he kept up his speech most of the time. 

 Finally, having finished my meal, I laid my head three 

 times on my hand, and pointing to the moose, described a 

 tortuous course in the air, then tapped my rifle and clapped 

 my hands five times, which in English means: "For three 

 days (sleeps) I followed that moose; I killed him after five 

 shots, so he's mine and you may as well clear out." At this 

 he drew himself up to his full height (he was about six inches 

 taller than myself) and informed me that he was a Sioux, 

 and that there were four more like him at the camp and they 

 would come. Whereat I thought, "If there are four more 

 as ugly-looking specimens as yourself, the sight of the gang 

 should be enough to scare all the Powers of Darkness into 

 lunacy;" but I could not translate the sentiment to him. So 

 with another look of bewitching tenderness, he strode off to 

 bring the other braves. 



Meanwhile I paced up and down, hoping my companions 

 would come soon, but determined to hold the moose at any 

 cost, if the Indians came in force to take him. For five 

 hours I paced up and down, then I heard guns, then an axe 

 and a dog, and in a few minutes Jim reappeared with 

 Gordon Wright and two others in the bob-sleighs, and soon 

 we were all aboard triumphant and merry, and arrived in Car- 

 berry about seven o'clock, to find that already word of our 

 success had gone before us, and over a dozen of "the neighbors 

 came down to Wright's that night to see the moose and con- 

 gratulate us. 



are on the feed, nay more, we can see them jumping for their 

 morning meal, and we have a suspicious confidence that we 

 can beguile some of them with tantalizing Palmer or hackle. 



Goldsmith makes Doctor Primrose say that courtship is a 

 happier state than marriage, and if the uncertain lime of 

 wooing is sweeter than the plighted troth, with its warmth 

 and happiness and love, it is most assuredly slightly different 

 from the uncertainty of going a-fishing. The anticipation of 

 the latter is just a degree lower than the delicious tingling 

 which steals down your spine, sparkles in your eyes and 

 glows on your cheeks, when some veteran grandee of the 

 water takes hold and makes your reel to whizz. 

 _ Five minutes' pull brings Storm off the east end of the 

 little island, and five minutes later he was lost to all sur- 

 roundings save his sport. A master of hounds had a motto 

 which was "Throw your heart over and your horse will fol- 

 low." When Storm's leader was fully extended, you might 

 have heard one trout say to another, "You lead the way, 

 I'll follow." Two trout did come at the first reeling in. No 

 heed gave Storm to the swallows dimpling the water in their 

 rapid flight, to the dragon flies in their shining armor, to the 

 woodpecker noisily tapping a tree on the mountain side, to 

 the kingfisher poising almost motionless overhead, to the 

 swash of the ripples that touched his boat so gently as they 

 passed; but a look of intense pleasure was centered on line 

 and leader. Sometimes a slightly-hooked trout would break 

 away in spite of priest and prayer-book, and vanish into the 

 watery whichness of the whither, as the Frenchman would 

 say, wiz ze grand floureche; but it mattered not, for 

 like an office-holder resigning his position, there were plenty 

 of others competent to fill his place. 



Laugh and grow fat, angle and be happy; and angling is 

 only one of the other names for perfect happiness. The be- 

 witchment of its uncertainty hath a fascination like unto 

 that of a charming widow. There is nothing visionary 

 about the angler, for he deals in facts and searches for them; 

 but if perchance he beguile himself with illusions, they are 

 healthy ones. With a heart hopeful as a woman's, hope 

 springs eternal in his breast, till he feels the lissome spring 

 of his swaying rod, when that twenty -four carat ecstacy, the 

 fulfillment of the angler's most extravagant fancy, takes 

 complete possession. No hue 

 and cry attend, for his light 

 flickers under a bushel; no ap- 

 plause follows his skillful hand- 

 ling of rod and line, for none are 

 near and few could appreciate; 

 but we say to the honest gentle 

 angler, as Gil Bias said to the 

 stroller whom he found singing 

 by the wayside, "Bravo! you put 

 your heart into your business." 



Time flies. It never flew 

 faster. The sun's rays no longer 

 fell aslant, but marked high 

 noon, and we pull ashore to the 

 spring which is close by the out- 

 let where we beach our boats 

 and surrounded by a beautiful 

 fringe of glossy emerald moss, 

 soft as velvet, with great trees 

 sighing above it. How good 

 that water felt, for there was no 

 taste to it, only a cool satisfying 

 feeling it produced as it moist- 

 ened our hps and throat. The 

 following is an analysis of the 

 water as made by Professor 

 Angostura, of Hoboken. The. 

 result is expressed in grains, 

 per Adirondack bucketful: 



Sulphate of refresh. 

 Sulphate of wetness, 

 Sulphate of tickle. . . 

 Carbonate of solace. 

 Bicarbonate of cool 

 Bicarbonate of life.. 

 Chloride of smack. . 

 Foreign matter 



7.733 

 59.004 

 12.007 

 29.889 

 22.009 

 19.385 



4.4015 

 Nix. 



grains, 

 grains, 

 grains, 

 grains, 

 grains, 

 grains, 

 grains. 



"PAUSING now and THEN TO "VETO." 



More than one, when they beard about the Indian's 

 attempted fraud, wondered why I did not shoot him, for 

 "it's nothing to shoot a Sioux." It is unnecessary to add 

 that I did not agree with them. 



And so, after traveling about three hundred miles on foot, 

 through the snow, during nineteen days of toil, I have kept 

 my hunting vow and killed the grandest beast of chase that 

 roams America's forests. And those who have taken the 

 trouble to read through this strictly truthful diary (written 

 at the time), can judge for themselves whether the reward 

 was commensurate with the labor. As for me, I never had 

 the slightest doubt on the subject, and both Mr. Duff and 

 myself will not cease to look back on the days of our hunt- 

 ing together, with pleasurable emotion that can be under- 

 stood only by the sportsman or the naturalist, who appre- 

 ciates the chase not by the avoirdupois return, but rather by 

 seeing therein a real elixir of life for the present, and a 



fountain of delightful memories for the future. . ^ 



Ernest E. T. | Setox. 



DAYS WITH THE BARMECIDE CLUB. 



THE sun came along at about its usual time, possibly a few 

 minutes later, but not enough to make any particular 

 difference in the programme, while an unstinted shower of 

 melody lent its charms to the loveliness of the morning. The 

 air was fragrant with the resinous odor of pine and spruce 

 and balsam; the lake was smiling in its morning sleep and 

 mirrored the hills and forests that encompassed it and the 

 soft cloud shadows gliding over it. How well the color 

 wears on these great hills, the same dark green that I remem- 

 ber a score of years ago. Yet they need legislative patching, 

 for here and there, and too often, are breaks where the wind, 

 fire or the axe has played sad havoc. 



It is a likely morning for fishing and beautiful in its atmos- 

 phere of cheerfulness, of content and good fellowship. We 

 found the trout rose best in the early morning and in the 

 gloaming. How unspeakably fair the lake in its emerald 

 setting, its surface lightening up with a benignant smile of 

 welcome. There's a still, small voice which tells us the fish 



There was a slight trace of 

 Medford rum, due to the acci- 

 dental smashing of a bottle some 

 yards above in the summer of 

 "'54, but it was so abominably 

 and disappointingly slight that 

 it didn't count. 

 What a spot for a noon day loaf. The bank bespangled 

 with buttercups and daisies, which take one back to barefoot 

 days when freckled and sunburnt we gathered them on the 

 hillside and in the valley. Clusters of delicate and beautiful 

 ferns were all around us, and water lilies bloom in the cool 

 shallows near shore, and trees lean timidly over seeking like 

 a pretty maiden to catch their reflection in the water. A rich 

 mellow light hung like a veil of transparent gauze over the 

 distant hills, and through the interlacing branches of spruce 

 and hemlock soft beams are falling on the ground and play- 

 ing their game of little shadows. Dear old resting place, 

 may it be many a year before you are "tickled with a hoe" 

 and made to "laugh with a harvest." 



Our luncheon was eaten and digestion assisted by cut- 

 plug and brier roots, and we chinned each other to sleep, all 

 feeling that there was only one way to enjoy nature and that 

 was in perfect carelessness, and it was far in the afternoon 

 before we were again casting our flies, and long before the 

 sun began to fling its parting rays through the branches of 

 the trees we reel up and go to camp, leaving a couple of 

 hours of the best fishing: but we are not insatiable sports- 

 men, whose only limit is darkness. 



Our fish were dressed and put away in one of the cliff ice- 

 houses, and no small job it is to properly care for a big mess 

 of fish. One of the most useful articles a sportsman can 

 carry is a pair of good thumb nails, not too long, but just 

 the right length to be of use in dressing a fish or picking a 

 bird. There is no tool to equal it in its specialty, nor one so 

 easily managed. Indeed we have seen little children, scarcely 

 able to talk or walk, who were really quite skilful in the 

 management of their thumb nails. They are carried without 

 much trouble and ypu are not likely to mislay them, and so 

 always know where they are. We have learned to get oura 

 in proper trim for an outing, and though we confess ignor- 

 ance as to what is fashionable in thumb nails, we do know 

 what is useful to encompass the uncertain grasp and the cer- 

 tain gliding of the slipping fish. 



Came the witchery of eventide again, full of its subtle 

 charms and dainty graces. The prolonged hush, the solemn 

 stillness, the intermission after the voices of the day are 

 silent and before the voices of the night commence, a 



