466 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[July 8, 1886. 



IP* Sport***!** Swift* 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Publish- 

 ng Go. 



DAYS WITH THE BARMECIDE CLUB. 



FOR several days there had been a soft dampness which 

 portended rain. The new moon, with its sou'east end 

 sticking down so a powder horn could not have been hung 

 on it, was what the old-fashioned farmers of the Mohawk 

 Valley would have called a wet moon. And the rain came. 

 A. thoroughly bad day, where everything out of doors is dis- 

 mal and all the comfort one can find is inside the shanty, 

 has its place in the angler's calendar. There might be too 

 many of them, enough to make the thing monotonous, but 

 when they happen along not too frequently, they add a 

 wonderful variety to the charms of forest life. They give 

 outers a rare chance to become acquainted, for they must be- 

 come intimate, being housed up iu a seven by nine house or 

 thereabout for so many hours. It is generally much pleas- 

 anter to hear the patter of the raiu upon the shingles, than 

 upon the broad bark roof. There is the faint sense of 

 security in the one, and the constant fear of a dripping down 

 your neck in the other, so look carefully to the bark roof in 

 pleasant days, and do not have to chalk up one against the 

 glorisus life in the woods the first time some rain cloud 

 strikes a mountain peak and springs a leak. We encountered 

 one of those days, but as we were here first, we made it 

 welcome with our most cordial greetings. 



Drizzle, drizzle, driz, 



O'er forest and plain, 

 Scatter thy wetness 

 Gent, gentle rain, 



While the pipe, the song and story go round and round. 

 The pipe is a success. The songs by cracked voices, oh, 

 shades of Malibran and Mario, are mixed irredeemably, and 

 we are thankful when they are finished. The stories, like 

 angling and hunting stories of the present day, are probably 

 truthful, which is their only redeeming quality. 



Nature is poetry and truth in these latter days, and the 

 angler living so near to her cannot help if he imbibes and in- 

 hales great draughts of that truth which has finally become 

 the distinguishing characteristic of those who go to the brook 

 side with six-ounce rods — be the same more or less. He may 

 not inherit this love of truth, but he acquires it. It has 

 come slowly, but the day for exaggeration has passed. The 

 angler has been cornered and smoked out too often to dare 

 undergo the process again. There is a class of those who go 

 fishing, but they are not anglers, but rather pot-hunters, who 

 would stretch veracity to the breaking point and then break 

 it; and whose statements are to be trusted, as Thackeray 

 would say, about as much as a schoolmistress's letter or a 

 church yard epitaph. 



Says Glen while recharging his pipe, "This is just such a 

 morning as I remember once in Arkansas. It was a drip- 

 ping kind of a morning when I started out from camp on a 

 deer hunt. The underbrush and second growth which grew 

 very thick, were covered with the night's dew and morning 

 drizzle, and they had a provoking way of slapping and 

 switching me from my ankles to my head, paying most 

 attention to my face, f had proceeded a mile perhaps, when 

 up jumped a magnificant six-prong buck and put away all 

 too suddenly for me to fire, but now I was assured that my 

 morning hunt would not be barren of results as I found that 

 the trail he left was easily to be followed, and after half an 

 hour I saw him ahead of me resting beneath a clump of 

 bushes. He was unaware of my presence and I brought my 

 rifle up for a careful aim. Closing my left eye I found 1 

 could see nothing as I attempted to peep along the barrel. I 

 dropped the piece, winked four or five times and sighted 

 again with the same result. Putting my hand to my face 

 I found that my right eye was gone. Immediately retracing 

 my steps a quarter of a mile, there was my eye hanging on a 

 bush glistening and sparkling and winking at me as naturally 

 as could be. 1 placed it in its socket and returned again to 

 the deer. With the finding of my eye I became overcon- 

 fident, arguing that trailing the deer when one of my eyes 

 was missing and successfully locating him, was now a feat 

 simple enough with both my eyes in their proper places, 

 and carelessly coming upon him he struck out with the speed 

 of lightening. I fired and away he sped down the winding 

 trail. But he had received his death wounds, for when 1 

 came up with him and examined the lordly fellow, 1 found 

 he had been shot through four times, having actually outrun 

 the bullet and meetiug it each time as the crooked trail 

 crossed the straight course of the bullet. Don't you under 

 stand? this way,'' says Glen, taking a dead coal and making 

 the following diagram on the smooth side of a piece of bark: 



came the turkey. All excitement, the doctor ran to it, closely 

 followed by another of the party, but the cat was out of the 

 bag, for the turkev's legs were tied together with Pete's red 

 bandanna handkerchief, and the doctor's companions in- 

 spected the tree closely enough to find Pete who had then to 

 come down. He was ignorant of the doctor's predicament 

 until he saw the red handkerchief which he had used for 

 convenience in carrying the turkey, but had forgotten to 

 take it off. Bandanna was a name which still clings to the 

 doctor." 



"That was surely a pretty bad break, but fortunately 

 it ended without loss of life and must have been a good 

 lesson to the doctor. Though entirely different in every 

 respect, it somehow reminds me of a story I heard about a 

 Missourian, who was visiting friends in Posey county, 

 Indiana. They, to make his stay as pleasant as possible, got 

 up all kinds of entertainments for his benefit, and among 

 others was a coon hunt. The night selected was a moon- 

 light one, and before starting the hunters partook of several 

 straight and mixed. The natives, accustomed to the parti- 

 cular brand of whisky, seemed well able to resist its effects, 

 but not so the Missourian, who was taken in, which how- 

 ever was not strikingly apparent until they were to cross a 

 stream which ran through the woods. The home boys led 

 the way, most of them jumping it clean, as it was quite a nar- 

 row stream, while a few touched the water on the opposite 

 side. The visitor came to the water's edge and refused the 

 jump, but seeing what he supposed was a fallen tree across 

 it, he made an effort to walk the shadow of a large tree 

 which stood behind him. 'Old Mis — hie— sou forever. Hie 

 don't have to tumble into stream where hie there is a log to 

 walk on him.' The first step put a damper on his confi- 

 dence. 'Old Mis — hie— sou forever, Mis — hie' — kersplash. 

 The boys fished him out none the worse for his ducking. In 

 fact it did him good. "I'd have got over all right if the 

 bark hadn't slipped,' he exclaimed, and he was none the wiser 

 regarding the substance and shadow of that tree." 

 "It's your turn, guide. Give us a fish story now." 

 "To tell you the truth, gentlemen, I never told a lie in my 

 life." 



"It does not necessarily follow that one must lie to tell a 

 fish story." 



"Such being the case, I'll tell you a second-handed one, 

 and if it is not true no blame or charge of falsehood can attach 

 to me, besides, as most fish stories have to do with large fish, 

 this one deals in small ones, which is also a point in its favor. 

 It was related in my hearing by Judge French, better known 

 by his friends as Bill. The judge was as well known for 

 his strict veracity off the bench as he was respected for his 

 legal acumen when presiding in a court of justice. It ap- 

 pears that some years ago, when the present system of cheese 

 making was introduced in the central counties of New 

 York, a factory was established in the town of New Hart- 

 ford, and the farmers around either brought or had their 

 milk taken there daily and credited to them. This was be- 

 fore the lactometer had been invented or at least before this 

 certain factory had commenced its use. The consequence 

 was that there was some cheating, for the quantity of cheese 

 was not in average proportion to the quantity of milk 

 credited to the different farmers. It was quite a difficult 

 matter to detect any one adulterating their milk, but finally 

 one was cornered iu a very curious way. This farmer was 

 Deacon Page. There was discovered one morning in the 

 cans of milk from his farm several small fish, wnich the 

 deacon was called upon to account for. 'Why I'll tell you 

 all about that. Yesterday my cows broke through the pas 

 ture fence and drank in the Saquoit creek, a ways above Mr. 

 Richardson's mill dam, and must have swallowed some of 

 the fish. It is strange my hired girl didn't notice it when 

 she was milking, I'll speak to her about it.' " 



"Did I ever relate to you," said Storm, "the adventure my 

 grandfather had with the bullhead iu the Mohawk River 

 near the old Utica base ball grounds. No? Well, some 

 morning when we get up a little earlier than' usual, I'll try 

 and tell it. It's a long story and needs an early start iu the 

 day." Millard. 

 Cheynne, Wy. 



Man_ 



HUNTERBERG CASTLE. 



"The straight line is the course of the bullet. the crooked 

 line is the track down which the deer ran. A is where he 

 was when he received the first lead, and B D are where 

 the deer followed the trail and met the bullet, E is where he 

 finally fell and died." 



"I'll give you a turkey story," says Roy, the facts of which 

 as related to me occurred on the Bier Muddy in Southern 

 Illinois, and well worthy of the Yahoos of the American 

 Egypt, and quite equal to any of the remarkable catches of 

 the' silver hook fishermen in the stalls of the public market. 

 Of course, 



I cannot tell how the truth may be, 

 I say the tale as 'twas told to me. 



"A party of four or five were hunting on the Big Muddy 

 in (I think) Jackson county, and making their headquarters 

 with one of the Hill brothers. They had met with varying 

 success, and all of them had killed ducks, geese and swan, 

 and all but Doctor G. had killed one or more wild turkeys. 

 The doctor was bound, as events proved, to either kill a 

 turkey or have the credit of so doing. 



"Pete Hill came in early one morning with a large fine 

 turkey. No one had seen him with it but the doctor, and he 

 bribed Pete to give him a chance to shoot it over again. The 

 next morning Pete was to leave early with the turkey, shin 

 up a certain tree where he could hide himself from the rest 

 of the party, and at a given signal from the doctor who was 

 then to fire, to drop the turkey to the ground. Part of the 

 scheme worked first rate. The doctor hunted over the 

 grounds apparently very carefully until he approached Pete's 

 tree When the signal was given, the doctor fired and down 



THE day of this history was the Fourth of July; the 

 scene, a beautiful valley in Middle Park, Colorado. Ir 

 the early morning, in remembrance of the nations natal day, 

 a pole was raised, the stars and stripes were flung alot\ 

 cheers were given, a short address was delrvered, and thus 

 the ever-glorious was celebrated by a little gathering of 

 strangers far out in the Rockies. There was no booming 

 of cannon, no ringing of bells, no popping crackers, no burst- 

 ing of bombs, nothing but simple recognitions of the day, 

 hearty observance as far as circumstances permitted, and 

 the solemn attention of the glorious mountains. 



Immediately after the patriotic ceremony the assemblage 

 of prospectors, travelers and hunters separated, going their 

 different ways, and in a short time the camp was as silent as 

 the abode of Reflection. My comrade wanted to do some 

 trout fishing, and as there was only a stout bass rod besides 

 my own trout rod, I turned the latter over to him, and sad- 

 dling my pony, deterndned to spend the day hunting and 

 rambling. 



The course taken led me to a mountain six or eight miles 

 southeast which, in the mellow distance, looked like the 

 capitol of some undiscovered country. Viewing it as 1 rod 

 was a matter of increasing interest, and though a grouse 

 with a large brood of little chicks in one place, two small 

 coyotes playing like puppies in another, and flocks of sage 

 chickens attracted passing notice, the mountain loomed more 

 grandly as I slowly neared it and held studied attention, 

 From ihe midst of great wings, steep rcofs and many pin 

 nacles, rose a principal dome and two smaller ones, where 

 there were columns and pillars and doorways, and vertical 

 and horizontal seams like the lines of masonry in a real 

 structure. With the figure once established, further study 

 brought out more striking semblances and apparent proofs 

 of the genuineness of the building. How could a mountain 

 have a dome of such wonderful harmony in size and pro- 

 portions? How could chance place two smaller towers equi- 

 distant from the center, and arrange terraces and steps and 

 architectural embellishments? It certainly is the ruin of 

 some temple of the sun, some amphitheatre or forum of an 

 ancient people. I'll just go on and investigate, and then in- 

 form the Director of the Geological Survey of my great dis 

 covery. By the right and privilege of discoverer I'll name 

 it Hunterberg Castle, or the Sportsmen's Pantheon, or the 

 Anglemere Coliseum, something grand, something to com- 

 memorate and give even greater renown to the world-wide 

 fraternity of good fellows. 



While gazing and giving rein to fancy and. conning names 



from which to select the most suitable for the magnificent 

 structure, a prosaic sneeze broke in upon my illusion and 

 also brought to his feet a large gray wolf, not thirty steps 

 away. He was crouched in the grass near the trail eating a 

 rabbit when the nasal explosion aroused him. Trotting off 

 a few yards he stopped sullenly to take in the cause of the 

 disturbance, licking his chops the while and showing his 

 teeth as if he had a mind to resent the encroachment upon 

 his domain. The pony had stopped of his own impulse, and 

 without hesitation I took a snap shot. The wolf leaped con- 

 vulsively, turned a somersault and fell dead, the bullet hav- 

 ing furrowed his skull. Dismounting, I examined the breast 

 to see if the skin was worth taking off as a trophy and found 

 the hair thin and full of fleas. There were still some throbs « 

 of waning life, muscular twitchings about the savage mouth, 

 and wavelike tremors along the back, then the once sly and 

 merciless prowler stretched out limp and lifeless, and I left 

 him a prey to his own. 



A half hour's ride brought me to a smooth slope of tritu- 

 rated rock terminating at the base of the capitol. - Distance, 

 I found, gave the pile much of its architectural uniformity, 

 though even yet a bold outline, distinctness of profile and 

 breadth of elevation enabled me in fancy to make a temple 

 or teocallis of imposing grandeur. In front of the main 

 dome were minor towers and buttresses, the spaces between 

 partly filled with masses of rock, the debris of geological 

 ages, among which were many small pine and cedar trees. 

 About six hundred yards from the more solid portions of my 

 castle, among fragments and projections, I caught sight of a 

 mountain sheep, poised on one of the tower-like formations, 

 as if it were a statue on a pedestal. I had before seen these 

 sure-footed climbers in similar positions, but had never had 

 an opportunity of getting near enough for a shot. I now 

 resolved to get that sheep, not considering fully at the mo- 

 ment that it is easy enough to pass a resolution, but very 

 often quite another matter to carry one into full force and 

 effect. Still it is a good thing to resolve if one does not 

 thunder too much in the index. 



As the wary animals cannot be approached from below, as 

 they frequently spend some time very patiently watching 

 the frantic and fruitless efforts of the hunter to get into 

 shooting distance, and as this one seemed to be looking down 

 on me with disdainful emotion, 1 concluded to resort to 

 subtle strategy and make the effort to circumvent him by 

 going round the back way. A half mile to the right there 

 was a long sloping ridge, with scattered dead and living pine 

 and cedar trees on it, and great detached rocks, which, it 

 appeared, would furnish a good approach clear to the upper 

 base of the dome, where I could certainly get close to the 

 game. 



Turning the pony's head I put him on the gallop to the 

 place where the ascent was to begin. The ridge was not 

 steep, and I urged the pony on as fast as he could go with- 

 out making too much noise, and in due time reached the 

 upper portion of the slope, perhaps four or five hundred 

 yards back of the rocks where the sheep was seen. There I 

 tied my steed with the lariat and went on foot. 



There was much to interest any one in the. mazes of rocks 

 and trees, in the magnificent scenery that lay about me, 

 where the silence was as impressive as the mountains were 

 sublime, and I was half inclined to let the sheep go and 

 study the universe. Near the broad front of my Hunterberg 

 Castle, looking northwest, and not far from the pedestal 

 where the sheep was supposed to be, was an immense split in 

 the gray granite, one of the doorways I saw from the valley, 

 into which I went stealthily, stepping upon a wide mantel 

 or architrave that provided comparatively easy passage to 

 the outer side. Going slowly, scanning the projections and 

 cornices beyond as they came in view, barely moving as I 

 reached the free opening, the sheep suddeuly came into my 

 line of vision, leaping from a point of rock to a small flat 

 surface that brought him into clear range. I was stooping 

 low, and tor a few moments remained so, breathless, motion- 

 less as the rock by my side, then cautiously raised the rifle 

 and fired. A million echoes and reverberations awoke the 

 wild solitudes, hammering the walls where I stood, and then 

 flying like affrighted spectres to more and more distant and 

 safer nooks and crannies. The sheep sprang forward with 

 such life-like effort I thought the bullet had missed. But 

 the leap was followed by a thump which meant that feet and 

 horns had lost their cunning, and that a still and dismem- 

 bered form was down there somewhere. 



The next task was to recover the game. From my lofty 

 outlook it could not be seen, but passages and pathways 

 were visible, made by wild animals, and all about were ugly- 

 looking crevices and cavernous openings. To reach these it 

 was necessary to retrace my steps almost to the point where 

 the sheep was first discovered. Relative positions of rocks 

 and trees were noted, the "marking down" method of the 

 hunter, and then the return was in order. Before starting, 

 however, I could not resist stopping a few minutes to look 

 out upon the grand scenery on three sides of the mountain 

 observatory. I could see the vapor rising from the Hot 

 Springs miles away, and right and left of that point get 

 bright glimpses of Grand River, the water hidden in places 

 by forests and canons, and then again flashing and dancing 

 in the sunlight, as if a mountain of silver had been melted 

 by subterranean fires, and the gleaming metal escaping from 

 nature's crucible, was filling the tortuous valley. In every 

 direction were great mountain tops reaching to heaven, cap- 

 ped with black rocks and glistening snow, here an open 

 and there a figure of immaculate beauty to which imagin- 

 ation could give form and feature in boundless fancy. 

 One of the images of snow seemed in the distance like a regal 

 form lying in state, its robes sparkling with jewels, as if it 

 were the bier of a princess stopped in mid air— 

 "Half dust, half deity, alike unfit 

 To sink or soar." 



The figure was strikingly beautiful, and I thought as I 

 gazed, if the Iztaccihuatl of Mexico, the woman in white of 

 the Aztecs, is more beautiful than that, it is worthy its re- 

 nown, and worth the journey to see it. 



I was loth to leave the high veranda. The beautiful 

 sweeps of alpine scenery, the regal mountains in their robes 

 of white and purple, the flowery meadows, the shining river 

 and many small streams hurryiug to it, the dark green 

 forests the columns of smoke here and there like incense 

 from sylvan altars, made pictures of enchanting beauty. 

 "My mother earth! 



And thou freih-breaking day, and you, ye mountains, 

 Wby are ye beautiful?" 

 Awaiting reply let us return to our mutton. Approaching 

 the pony he neighed a welcome and manifested unusual 

 pleasure. In truth it was lonesome up there, and I didn't 

 wonder at the horse's gratification on being assured that his 

 fidelity was not betrayed, 



