144 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Sept. 16, 1886. 



down to making the best of the discomfort of a rainy day 

 in camp. They related the events of yesterday; what 

 befell Pelatiah has already been told in the last chapter, 

 and so he told it to his comi^anions with but few elimina- 

 tions, for he felt no unwillingness now to let them enjoy 

 the fun of his mishaps, and he with pride set forth to the 

 fullest extent the dimensions of the big fish that be had 

 lost, a monster that somehow seemed to belong to Mm 

 almost as completely as if he had captm-ed him — as the 

 big fish, that all of us who go a-fishmg have lost, are yet 

 ours. Is it by right of discovery that we hold a sort of 

 claim on them? 



Sam and Antoine had not gone far on their cruise when, 

 as they rounded the point "between the Slang and the 

 creek and floated slowly over the sunny, wooded shallows, 

 a party of "playing"' pickerel was sighted by the Cana- 

 dian, who was paddling. Two or thi'ee lusty fellows had 

 the upper tips of their tails and dorsal fins' above water, 

 now gently moving them, now splashing about in a spas- 

 modic flurry, then disappearing for a minute, then break- 

 ing the surface in another place near by. Antoine got 

 the canoe close to them without alarming them and Sam 

 fired into the thick of the group. The Ore Bed's big bul- 

 let made the water boil and set half a dozen swift, arrowy 

 wakes flying off in different dh-ections; but that was all. 

 Not one silvery, uirtm-ned belly gleamed out of the settling 

 sediment, and Antoine broke forth in lamentations and 

 reproaches. "Oh, sa-cre ton sac! Oh, bah gosh! da's too 

 bad. Oh, you'll shoot all over it! Ant Ah tol you more 

 as fo' bonded tousan tarn, wen you'll shot at peekrel you 

 ant want shot at it, hein? You'll want shoot at it where 

 he'll ant look so 'f he was! "Way onder where you'll see 

 it! You don't can't rem bier dat, hein? Bala gosh! wen 

 Ah'll rip-proach you up to some more of it, 'f yoa ant did 

 more better as you was dat tarn, Ah'll goin' shoot luaaef , 

 bah gosh!" 



"Wal, Antwine," Sam said with a shame-faced little 

 laugh, never shot at one afore, 'n' 'f I don't du better 

 next time you 'reproach' me up to some fish, you 

 shell do the shootin'." "i2e-proach! oh golly! wal I'll' be 

 dum'd 'f I s'posed you 'd lugged any o' Solon Briggs's 

 big words all the way daown here!" and moistening a 

 patch he rammed a bullet down the long barrel, making 

 the grimaces that one who drives home the ball in a 

 muzzleloading rifle always does, as if his own interior 

 was suffering the leaden invasion. 



"Wal, All don't care, Sam, Ah'll liit dat words 'baout 

 so close you'U hit dat peekrils, ant it?" 



"Cluster, Antwine, cluster, you knocked the head right 

 off on 't!" 



And so with restored good humor they went on tiU 

 another bunch of fish was sighted and got near to. when 

 Sam, aiming well imder, "onhitched." "Four good sized 

 pickerel, some hit, some only stunned, rolled bellies up 

 and were got in-boai-d before they had thought of moving 

 a fin. In such murderous fashion, approved by custom 

 like many another quite as bad, they got all the fish they 

 cared for and met with no mischance worse than one or 

 two misfijL-es. When they were homeward boxmd and 

 both paddling without change of places, as they rounded 

 a broad patch of button bushes they came suddenly upon 

 Sam's late adversary, poling his skiif slowly along and 

 looking for fish with his gun lying in front of him. 

 His face still bore the imprint of Sam's fist, but he be- 

 stowed upon them a friendly grin, and hailed them with 

 "What luck?" 



"Tol'able," Sam answered, "What's yourn?" 



"The cussedest luck 'at ever you see," was the reply. 

 "My blasted ol' gun 's missed twlct when I had aU-kilbn' 

 good chances, an' one big one 't I rolled up got away 'fore 

 I c'ld git a holt on liim, S'pose 'f I didn't want one so 

 con-demn bad, I'd a-got a boat load. My folks is sick 

 [in Yankee parlance one's "folks" means his wife]. No 

 appetite t' eat, 'n' nothin' '11 du but a fish, an' I swear! I 

 can't git so much as a pimkin seed!" 



"Wal," Sam said, picking up a good fish by the gills, 

 "we've got more 'n we c'n use 'fore they spile: take this 

 t' yer folks." 



"Why, naow," said the man, poling his skiff a stroke 

 nearer, "if 't wan't jist as 't is, I wouldn't think on it, but 

 if you kin spare it jest as well as not, I 'Id be a thaousaji' 

 times 'bleeged tu ye, 'cause Seusan she— but"' stopping 

 his craft "I do' want no more o' yer cussed gumP' 



"All right," Sam answered with a laugh, "we haint a 

 peddlin' g-um to-day. Hard up an' git yer fish." And 

 tossing it into the skift', he paddled away, while the re- 

 cipient of the gift thanked him a "thaousan' times" and 

 profanely remarked in conclusion, "You air the curiest 

 damn man ever I see, I swear. Say!'' he shouted after 

 them, "You c'n come here 'n trap an' be damned a thousan' 

 years!" 



While Sam was pondering as he paddled whether this 

 long lease of privilege pertained to trapping or perdition, 

 Antoine interrupted his meditations with the question, 

 "Wliat you spose mek dat mans so good nachel, Sam? 

 What you spose he'll got matter wid his face of it? Look 

 lak he strak some boddy wid it, ant it!" 



"Oh. like 'nough he knocked it agin a ti-ee or suthin', 

 pokin' raound here mongst this 'ere trash. An' he 's got 

 over bein' mad 'cause he's faound out 't we're harmless 

 kinder creetm-s." 



"Dat all you'll know 'baout it," Sam?" with a crafty, 

 inquiring glance as he leaned sidewise to get a look at his 

 companion's face. "What mek it got so clever so quick 

 aft' he'll bruse bose of it so hard? Hein?" 



"Oh, thunder in the winter! no, I d' know nothin' 

 'baout the man. Mebby he's ben tu a prayer meetin' 'n 

 'xperenced a change o' heart." 



"What he'll meant he ant want some gaum, hein?" 



"Haint a-hankerin' arter it, I s'pose. What in time do 

 we care 's long's he behaves hisself ? Let 'im go." 



After several minutes of silent paddling Antoine asked 

 in a low, earnest voice, "Sam, 'f Ah'll tol you sometings, 

 you ant never tol someboddy long's you leave, you hope 

 to dead fus'?" -r , , i 



"Wal," Sam answered with deliberation, "I do know, 

 Antwine, 'f you ben a stealin' suthin' or a killin' some- 

 body, I don't wanter hev ye tell me on 't, but if it's some 

 little thing 'taint very weeked I ha' no 'bjections to 

 promisin' an a hearin' on 't." 



"Oh, no-no-no-no! Ah ant never steal notmgs, an ah 

 ant never keel someboddy sin Papineau war; not quat, 

 come pooty near dough dis tarn, but ah ant keel it, do it 

 some good." You ant tol of it ?" 



"No, I won't tell; ease your mind, Antwine." 



"Wal sah, Sam," with slow impressiveness, "What hail 

 dat man bis face of it. what mak' heem be so good 



nachel, Ah'll goin' tol you, sah. Ah'll leek it dat man 

 tudder dayH 



"You licked him? Why, you haint seen 'im 'fore sen 

 the day 't you was tellin' me haow he sassed ye; an' you 

 said then 'at you did'nt tech him, nor wouldn't. Why 

 didn't you tell me 'baout your he kin' him then?" 



"Wal, sah, Ah'll tol you, Sam. You see. Ah was 'fraid 

 Ah'll keel him, Ah'll leek it so hard. Naow Ah'll fin' aout 

 he ant be dead, Ah don' care for tol you. Oh! bah gosh! 

 Ah'll mos' keel it. Ah'll keek it on hees face wid ma fis' 

 where you'll see it. Ah'll strak it wid ma foots where you 

 ant see it. Ah'll paoun' it, Ah'U mek it hollah 'O, don't hurt 

 me some more.' Al'll be so scare all dat naglit for "fraid 

 he'll dead. Ah ant mos' sleep any, sahl Yas, ant you 

 hear it me tombly an' grunt, hein?" 



Sam was shaking violently, but as Antwine could not 

 see his face, he thought his agitation was perhaps caused 

 by horror at the recital of the terrific combat. Warming 

 with the Falstaffian tale, he shook out a "B-o-o-o-h-h-hl" 

 from his pursed lips, and shouted, "Oh! Bah gosh! Ah'll 

 paoun' it, Ali'll jump top of heem! You ant b'lieve it, 

 you come 'long to me, Ah'll show you where Ah'll knock 

 de barks off de tree wid heem, an' de bloods an' skins an' 

 hairs all scratter 'raoun' de graoun'!" 



Sam was no longer able to contain the fullness of 

 laughter that oppressed liim. 



"What you lafft at, Sam?" Antoine demanded sternly. 



'_'0, dear me, suz! Antwine, I can't help a laughin' to 

 think what a woUopin' you give that man, an' a slattin' 

 the graound with him, an' barkin' trees with him! Wliat 

 a massy it is you didn't kill the poor creeter!" 



"Wal, Alitor you, Ah'll feel pooty glad for dat, me. 

 Ah'll ant wan' be hang for it. Say, Sam, you s'pose 

 prob'ly dat fellar sue me up to law for leek heem so hard, 

 hein?'"' 



"Wal, no, I don't hardly b'lieve he will, Antwine. I 

 guess he's bed all he wants on ye." 

 "Wal, Ah guess so." 



"Come to think on 't naow, I seen him the nest day 

 arter you give him sech a whalin', 'n' I never noticed 'at 

 the' was a thing the matter of him. Cur'us, wa' n't it?'' 



"You'll see it nex' day?" Antoine asked anxiously, 

 "Wal! Bah gosh! Ah dunno 'f he ant show it, prob'ly 

 hees faces ant got tam yet for swellm' up an' git blue 'n' 

 black, ant it?" 



"I shouldn't wonder a mite 'f that was it, Antwine." 



This dismal day Antoine swore Pelatiah to secrecy, and 

 enlivened an hour with the acted story of his great fight, 

 that began at this relation to assume in liis mind the 

 reality of an actual occurrence. Often after their retiu-n 

 to Danvis the doughty chamj)ion recounted this ex])loit 

 to half credulous" audiences, and though Sam, when a 

 hstener, seemed sometimes to laugh in the wi-ong place, 

 he never let fall a word to cast a shadow of doubt on its 

 truthfidness. 



Antoine proposed to concoct a chowder which he prom- 

 ised them should furnish a dinner so good as to make 

 amends for tlie badness of their breakfast. 



"Dey ant on'y but jes one ting was better as feesh, an' 

 dat was be feesh wen he be cook in chowdy, 'cep' mud- 

 turkey." So putting on a heavy coat he took the kettle 

 to the" shore and spent so much time there in washing it 

 that he came back with a shell of frozen rain upon his 

 garments, such as loaded all the branches with its dull 

 glitter, cracliing and clattering with every sway of the 

 wind, and crunching under foot on the iced mat of last 

 year's herbage. Pork, fish, potatoes, crackers and onions 

 furnished all the requisites for a chowder, a dinner all in 

 one pot, and one that needed no constant tending, there- 

 fore well suited to the conditions of a roofless kitchen in 

 a stormy day. When it was set to seething over the now 

 weU-established fire, they sat in the shelter of the shanty 

 front, the elders smoking frequent pipes, Pelatiah solac- 

 ing himself with the cud "that cheers but not inebriates." 



"SamwlU," he said after much speechless if not quite' 

 silent rumination, and a long look out into the cheerless, 

 icy woods, vidth no sign of life in them but one red squir- 

 rel chipping a cone on a hemlock limb, and too much de- 

 pressed in spirit to utter one saucy snicker or defiant chh-, 

 "Samwill, I sh'ld think tlie" *ld be bears, an' panthers 

 an', an' annymills in these 'ere woods. They're big 'nough 

 seems 's 'ough." 



"Don't 'pear to be much in 'em, bigger'n coons," Sam 

 answered, "we thought we heaxd a lynk oncte or twicte, 

 but mebby 't wa'n't nothin'. Like 's not the's a painter a- 

 tra veil in' through 'em oncte 'n a while praowlin' back an' 

 to, but I ha' n't seen no signs on 'em." 



"Tell us abaout that painter 't you killed, Samwill," 

 said Pelatiah, starting up -wdth a sudden interest, "I 

 never heard ye, though I've kinder hearn tell on 't." 



"Oh, the' wa'n't nothin' 'baout it. only I happened to 

 shoot him." 



"Wal, Samwill, teU 'baout it, wont ye?" 



"Wal," Sam said, looking abstractedly into the fii-e 

 while he slowly filled his pipe out of a nearly-spent blue 

 paper of Greer's or Lordlard's "Long smoking," "the' 

 wa'n't no painter himtin' 'baout it, only a happen-so. I 

 was a bee huntin', in September it was, 'n' his hide wa'n't 

 wuth fo'pence only to look at, 'n' I'd got some bees to 

 workin' in a little lunsome clearin' 'way up 'n under Tater 

 Hill, 'n' lined 'em int' the woods, 'n' reckoned I'd got putty 

 nigh the ti-ee, 'n' I was saunderin' 'long lookin' caref '1 at 

 every tree 'at bed a sign of a hole in it, when I seen a 

 shake of a big limb of a great maple, 'n' then I seen the 

 critter scrouched onto it clus to the body an' a-lookin' 

 right at me, I'd left the Ore Bed back in the clearin' 

 much as ten rods off 'long wi' my bee box, 'n' my hat sot 

 mighty light on top o' my head as I backed off, slower, I 

 gTiess, 'n' I'U go to my own fim'al. Soon as I got him 

 aout o' my sight— though I don't s'pose I was aout o' his'n 

 —I madedum few tracks to the ol' gun, I tell ye, an' then 

 come back slow an' caref'l. There he sot scraouched 

 daown jest where I left him, an' his dummed yaller eyes 

 right on me 's if he hedn't never took 'cm off, 'n' mebby 

 he hedn't. When I got in 'baout six rods, I drawed a bead 

 right betwixt 'em 'n' onliitched. He didn't jump, but 

 kinder sagged daown out' thel imb an' turned under it 

 'n' le' go fust one foot 'n' then nuther, 'n' arter hangin' by 

 the last bunch o' claws for a minute, come daown, ker- 

 flop. He clawed an' fliu-upped an' graowled julluk any 

 dummed waounded cat, an' I stood back 'n' gin him the 

 floor. But his senses was all knocked aouten on him, an' 

 he didn't know 'nough to git to me 'f he wanted tu. I 

 hussled anuther charge int' the Ore Bed tol'able spry, but 

 't wa'n't needed— he was deader 'n hay "fore I got the cap 

 on. An'," said Sam, after a pause in which he refilled his 

 pipe, "I faound the bee tree not tew rods f order on, an' 



tew weeks arter I took it up an' got a hund'ed paounds o' 

 the neatest honey 't I ever see." And he seemed to feel 

 quite as much satisfaction in the recollection of finding 

 the bountiful supply of wild honey as in the killing of the ' 

 great cat. 



"By gol!" said Pelatiah, letting out his long held breath 

 in a great sigh, "I sh'd thought you"d a ben scairt!" 



"Wal, no," Sam said, still tliinking of the bees, "they 

 didn't sting me none to speak on," 



"Dat mek me tink," said Antoine, coming in from a 

 brief inspection of the chowder, and nursing a coal that 

 he had scooped out of the ashes in his pipe bowl, "mek 

 me tink one tam me ma bradder-law keel one dat panter 

 in Canada. We was go huntin' for deer. Ah guess so, 

 an' da was leetly mite snow on de graoim'. Wal seh, 

 we'll see it ti'ack, we ant know what he was be, an' we'll 

 folia dat, oh, long long tam. Baniby he'll go in hole in 

 rock, leetly laidge you know, 'baout tree, fom-, probly 

 seex tam big dis shantee was; Wal seh, boy, Ali'll left it 

 ma brudder-law for watch dat holes, an' Ah'U go 'raoun' 

 back side laidge see all what Ah'U see. Ah'll look veree 

 caffly, an' bah gosh, what you tink Ah'll fin' it? Leetly 

 crack in rock 'baout so wide ma tree finger of it, an' dat 

 panter hees tail steek off of it 'baout so long ma arm, 

 probly, where he'U push hind fust in dat holes. An' 

 he'll weegly hees tail so," waving his forefinger slowly. 

 "Wal, Ah'il tink for spell what Ah do. Den Ah'll go 

 cut off strong steek so big half ma wris' and two 

 foots long. Den Ah'U tek hoi' dat tails an' tied 

 knot in him, veree caffly, den Ah'U nm steek 

 t'rough an' piill knot hard! Oh, bah gosh! you'll ought'y 

 hear dat panters yaller an' holler! Wus as fo' bonded 

 tousan cat! Yes, seh! Oh, he'll hugly. Ah tol' you! but 

 he can' help it, he can' got it loose 'less he pull up hees 

 tails off. "Wal, seh, Ah'U lafft at it. Ah can' help it, mos' 

 Ah'U spUt off ma side. Den Ah'U go 'raoun' ma brudder- 

 law, an' he'U be scare mos' dead, an' goin' runned way. 

 Ah'll tol' heem, Ah goin' in dat holes shoot dat panters. 

 *0h, gosh!' he'U ax me, 'he tore you dead more as forty 

 piece!' Ah'll say, 'Ah so good man Ah'U don't 'fraid me.' 

 Den Ah'll crawl in dat holes an' Ah'll shoot it, boom! 

 raght "tween hees head! An' bamby pooty soon he ant 

 yaller some more, be all still as mices. Den Ah'U come 

 off de holes an' Ah'U tol' ma brudder-law he'U crawl in 

 an' puU off dat panters. He'U pooty 'fraid for go, but 

 bambye he go. He touch hoi' of it, he can' puU it cause 

 hees tail tie, but he ant know. 'Bah gosh!' he say, 'dat 

 jjanters more heavy as two ton! Ah can' pull it!' Den 

 Ah'll go 'raoim' an' taked off dat steek, an' hoUa 'puU!' an' 

 ma brudder-law puU more ha-der he can — boom! he go 

 tumbly on hees back, dat panters on top of it! Oh! bah 

 gosh! 'f he ant scare, ma brudder-law. Yas seh! Wal, 

 seh, boy,'' after a pause during which no one spoke, " 'f 

 you ant mek b'lieve dat stories you go Canada 'long to me 

 Ah show you de steek. Ma bi-iidder-law he'U saved it. 

 Ah ant never tol' you stories so true lak dat, seh!" 



"I ha' no daoubt o' that, Antwine; you couldn't tell a 

 lie big 'nough to choke ye. Haint that 'ere mux o' youm 

 'baout done? I'm a gittin' wolfish," 



After due examination the French cook pronounced the 

 chowder ready to bo served up, and it proved so tooth- 

 some that of the whole kettlefid there was hardly enough 

 left for Driver's supper. 



Then with smoking and more story teUing they wore 

 out the dreary day, and at nightfaU the sky was brighten- 

 ing with the promise of a more cheerful morrow. 



An newsdeaJers sell Forest and Stream Fables. 



Addrm nJl communimtionH to the Foreet ami Stream Puh. Co. 



A FAMILIAR TITMOUSE. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



One Sunday last AprU IMr. Livingston, a fellow member 

 of the Kent Scientific Institute, and myself were out for 

 a walk, when at noon we sat in the shade of a white pine 

 to eat our lunch. A few rods below me a cheewink was 

 at work among the dead leaves. Tliis led me to remark, 

 "I wonder if the time will ever come when, as man gets 

 better and learns to treat the biixls more kindly there will 

 be a good many species that wiU be so tame as to come 

 and eat from his hand. There are some parts of the world 

 now where the birds are so wild that they are tame; they 

 have seen so little of man or have been so little disturbed 

 by bim that they are no more afraid of him than they are 

 of a horse or cow here. Prof, Steere found such a place 

 in the Andes." I referred also to one or two of our little 

 birds being so tame as to allow a man to approach within 

 four or five feet of them and told of Mr. E. A. Samuels' 

 story of a Parus atricapillus alighting on his boot and 

 looking up into his face, when he was seated on a log in 

 the woods one winter day. A few minutes later I had 

 left my box with some bread in it, Avhen a bird appeared 

 on a lower limb of a tree but a few yards away. It was 

 & \itmoviS.B {Parns atricapillus). I said: "That's the bird 

 I was telUng you about." Moving from Umb to limb and 

 coming a Uttle closer, its general demeanor seemed to tell 

 us that it was actuated by feelings of friendship or curi- 

 osity, or both. Tempting as u as tliis hypothesis, 1 thought 

 that in reaUty it was attracted by the crumbs in my box 

 which lay two or three yards to Mr. Livingston's right, or 

 by something we were 'eating, although I knew that it 

 was insectivorous and he was eating crackers and I an 

 orange. The bkd contimied to shoAv interest in something 

 about us and soon flew to a bush behind Mr. Liv- 

 ingston, alighting a yard, more or less, from his head. 

 It then flew and fluttered over Ms head for a few seconds 

 and lit upon it. It soon returned to the bush. Mr. Liv- 

 ingston, turning Ms head part way around, said softly: 

 "TMs beats the boot story." The titmouse came back and 

 fluttered over his head as before, then alighted again and 

 in a few seconds flew to Ms hand, which he held up with 

 a cracker between the thumb and forefinger, wMle the 

 eUww rested on the ground. He was partly sitting and 

 partly lying on the hUlside. The bird stood with one foot 

 on the cracker the other on the thumb that held it, and 

 remained there for something Uke a quarter of a minute. 

 It seemed to look at Mr, Livingston, though I do not 

 think it was exactly facing Mni and probably didn't 

 stare at him vnth the directness of which the human eye 

 is capable, I could not see anytMng to indicate th»t it 



