Sept. 21, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



249 



Their feet were a little bit tender and their shoulders 

 somewhat sore from carrying the .50-110-300 Winchesters. 

 Some old Greek philosopher wrote that a fellow feeling 

 makes us wondrous kind; or, as translated into plain 

 English, misery loves company. At any rate the boys 

 stayed close to camp until Smyth returned with the flour. 



III. 



"I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety." 



Two days and nights in the wilderness, without flour 

 and surrounded by ravenous, carnivorous wild beasts, is 

 certainly not a desirable state, even for those blessed with 

 the spirit of fortitude and bravery. 



Naturally there was much grumbling and uneasiness in 

 that camp on Roaring River during Smyth's absence, for 

 various and obvious reasons. 



The boys had been used to better trea tment, and they in 

 their hearts longed for the fleshpots of Portland ; but their 

 reputations as sportsmen depended somewhat on the re- 

 sults of this trip, and so their pride sustained them in 

 adversity and kept the camp from going to pieces alto- 

 gether. But the boys wanted flour badly, and One Lung 

 wanted to keep his scalp worse. He even refused abso- 

 lutely to start a fire for fear that the smoke might lead 

 the redskins to their retreat. 



But then it was warm anyway, and there wasn't much 

 to cook particularly until Smyth returned with the 

 flour; so the boys took One Lung's discretion all in good 

 part. However, when night came on the boys wanted to 

 see the cheery blaze of a camp-fire, and so built one them- 

 selves. 



Swift thought that there was method in the Chinaman's 

 madness, but Mead and the Doctor both held to the opinion 

 that One Lung was practically scared to deatb; and so the 

 poor heathen got the benefit of the majority vote and had 

 an easy time of it. There were four tents. Mead and 

 Swift were to occupy one, Smyth and the Doctor another, 

 One Lung another, while the fourth and largest was a 

 general storehouse, and which, in case of rain, could be 

 used as a kitchen and dining hall. 



All that the boys needed to make them perfectly happy 

 and contented was Smyth and flour. All that One Lung 

 needed to make him happy was his opium outfit and im- 

 munity from "Injuns." Under the existing circumstances 

 there was but one thing to do — make the best of it. Mak- 

 ing the best of it under such conditions ordinarily means 

 to sleep most of the day and then sit around the camp-fire 

 at night, smoking and telling yarns. And just here was 

 where tho fun commenced. Mead and Swift saw in One 

 Lung's fear of Indians an opportunity to have a 

 whole bushel of fun telling blood-curdling Indian 

 stories, and, notwithstanding the Doctor's admoni- 

 tion to "beware, the worm will turn," they proceeded to 

 seize the opportunity. What lots of fun they did have. 

 One Lung understood most of what they said and imag- 

 ined the balance, and so the poor simple-minded heathen 

 was driven almost to distraction, and oh, how the boys 

 did enjoy themselves. A Chinaman is the most super- 

 stitious mortal that ever drew the breath of life, and by 

 bedtime the first night he was ready for the lunacy com- 

 mission. Quaking with fear, starting at every sound, 

 afraid to look behind him, he stealthily sought his lonely 

 bed neither to sleep nor dream, but to shiver and listen. 

 Of course, Mead and Swift felt very well satisfied with 

 their first evening's entertainment notwithstanding the 

 Doctor's reproaches, and so all hands went to bed. The 

 boys had just nicely got to sleep when with a wild shriek 

 of terror, followed by agonizing cries of despair, One 

 Lung burst into their tent, jammed himself in between 

 Mead and Swift and covered his head with the blankets. 

 He had heard something — a something, too, which, to 

 One Lung, could be nothing in the wide world but "In- 

 jun." The boys tried to soothe him, but he wouldn't 

 soothe. Then they tried reason and argument, but One 

 Lung evidently regarded the arguments as closed. He 

 wouldn't budge. He had come there to stay, and stay he 

 did. 



Did you ever smell a Chinaman? If you have never 

 been through "Chinatown" of any of our coast cities nor 

 smellod a Chinaman, and have any desire for knowledge 

 in this direction, I would advise you to read Dr. Smollett's 

 description of the smell that arose from an assemblage of 

 lord and lady Yahoos at Bath. What I am trying to get 

 at (in a delicate way) is the fact that there is about all 

 Chinamen a peculiar odor that "smells to high heaven." 

 It never leaves them. You can give a Chinaman a 

 hundred hot baths; yes, you may boil him for a week 

 and then hang him out in the wind and sun for a month, 

 that same peculiar, indefinable smell is still there. 



The boys' prayers availed little; their threats and en- 

 treaties less; and poor, gentle, trusting, much abused 

 One Lung and his smell continued to occupy that bed for 

 two nights, while Mead and Swift sat on a log, gazed 

 into the fire and reflected of nights, and slept in the 

 Doctor's bed during the day. S. H. Greene. 



Portland, Oregon. 



[TO BE CONTINUED.] 



Death of George Fulton. 



San Antonio, Texas, Sept. 14.— The community is in 

 mourning for the death of George Fulton, one of our 

 prominent business men and most respected citizens of 

 San Antonio. "George," as he was familiarly called, was 

 the friend of every man who carried a gun for the love of 

 the sport. He was more than kind. He anticipated the 

 wants of people who were nothing to him, and supplied 

 them. He could not see anything suffer. He was the 

 friend of the poor, the sick, the high and low born. 

 H amanity was his religion. To do noble deeds his main 

 object in life. 



On one occasion a party of hunters passed his ranch 

 en route to the beach at Copano Bay and G-orge noticed 

 that they were rather "light rigged." That night a 

 frightful northern storm shook the earth and in the dead 

 of night, facing the bitter storm, Geo. Fulton, unable to 

 sleep while he knew a human being was suffering within 

 his reach, had an ambulance hitched up, laden with 

 warming things, and together with his men they found 

 the hunting party aforesaid nearly dead with cold. With 

 the hand of an angel Geo. Fulton saved their lives. It is 

 such deeds that have caused all people to love him. It 

 was his absolute unselfishness that enthroned him in the 

 hearts of the people aa the Prince of the Southwest,— 

 Texas Field, 



CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 



Word from the Chicken Country. 

 St. Paul. Minn., Sept. 13.— This city, St. Paul, was 

 once the center of the prairie chicken country of the 

 world and it remains so now geographically speaking, 

 but hardly in any other sense. To-day I saw a man 

 standing in a doorway on the street, accompanied by a 

 setter which looked as if it had not seen much use. I 

 asked him about the chicken country and he said he came 

 from Iowa and was on his way to Dakota for a chicken 

 hunt. 



Everybody has been going to Dakota, but reports do not 

 warrant the belief that the birds are very plentiful out 

 there, unless one goes very far to the west and north. 

 Messrs. F. F. and R. Merrill, of Milwaukee, with a good 

 string of dogs, are out in the Turtle Mountain country for 

 a four weeks' hunt, and they will certainly get good 

 sharp-tail shooting at least. 



A gentleman back from Dakota says that they have 

 found the chickens in the low bottom grounds and not on 

 the stubbles or prairies where they expected to meet them. 



Mr. Ed. Bird, of Fairmont, Minn., where the field trials 

 were once held on chickens, says that the birds are very 

 scarce in that region now. The shooter who puts up 

 three or four coveys in the afternoon is lucky. 



Mr. S. A. Tucker, just in from Omaha, says there is 

 good shooting about half way between St. Paul and 

 Omaha on the Omaha road. 



Mr. H, B. Jewell, of Wabasha, Minn., which is near 

 the foot of Lake Pepin, says they do not think of going 

 after chickens there any more, though there may be a 

 few left. 



Mr. Fred Gilbert, of Spirit Lake, Iowa, says they once 

 had fine shooting there, but that the birds are scarce now. 



Mr. Tom Paine, of Glencoe, McLeod county, Minn., 

 says they get no shooting of account at chickens this year. 



Mr. H. M. Jones, of Atwater, Minn., says there are a 

 few birds around that way, if one is willing to hunt hard 

 and be satisfied with a smallish bag. 



Mr. Clint Smith, of Fargo, N. D., says the crop of 

 chickens around there is not very good. 



Mr. W. P. Shattuck, who is just back from a wagon 

 trip of 150 miles, coming to St. Paul from the North, Bays 

 his party found no vast number of birds, but got all they 

 cared for; a couple of dozen or so to three guns daily. 



Mr. Staunton, of Crookston, Minn., says that when the 

 season opened he and his friends could not find any birds, 

 but he thinks they had not come on the stubbles. A day 

 or so ago they went over the same country and bagged 

 forty-three birds. 



There seems a general belief that part of the scarcity of 

 the birds may be traced to natural causes. The past 

 spring was dry, and the birds are thought to have nested 

 in the bottom lands. Then the weather came on wet and 

 drowned out the nests. Reports of small coveys, six to 

 eight birds only, are numerous. This may be due to sec- 

 ond nesting, or more likely yet to "sooners" having shot 

 out the coveys before the law opened. 



It seems almost certain that the great chicken days in 

 Minnesota are over, and that they will soon be over in 

 both Dakotas also. Minnesota is now very little better 

 chicken ground than Illinois, p?rhap3 not so good. For 

 Dakota the same rule must hold: The thoughtless destruc- 

 tion will go on until the greedy guns leave for a more 

 productive country, if they can find it. Then better pro- 

 tection will ensue, and slowly the birds will grow a little 

 more plentiful, though of course they can never again 

 reach their former numbers. 



The story of the destruction of American game is a sad 

 and shameful one. E. Hough. 



909 Security Bdiddino, Chicago. 



NITROS AGAIN. 



The personal experience of sportsmen who have used 

 nitro powders to some extent would certainly be interest- 

 ing if told through Forest and Stream. The modesty of 

 the manufacturers of the various brands of nitro is only 

 equaled by that of the gunmakers. Oae and all claim to 

 make the very best powder or gun in the market. While 

 all are good to a certain extent, some are better. 



Your correspondent, W. E. W., certainly had courage 

 to keep on with his nitro cartridges after his experience 

 with the first few loads I have used considerable nitro. 

 Some years since, when devoted to trap-shooting, the 

 American wood powder was the only powder of the kind, 

 I think, made in this country. I was very successful with 

 it, while some of my friends who tried it were not at all 

 satisfied. I found the great point was to know how to 

 load it. I had a gun made especially to order by an Eng- 

 lish gunmaker. The gun in question was a 7+lb. hammer- 

 less with laminated steel barrels, costing with two sets of 

 barrels $300. This without exception was the very best 

 shooting gun I ever owned. I spent a number of days 

 targeting the gun with cartridges loaded in various ways 

 before finding what was the best load for it, and after so 

 finding I think I proved it was a good one. I kept a 

 record of the cartridges I loaded, the greater part of 

 which were shot in this gun, and the record shows 17,800. 

 I used a pretty heavy load (bulk measure) of wood pow- 

 der and never had anything in shape of accident happen. 

 The gun stood it well, but like most things became some- 

 what worn by constant use, no doubt somewhat sooner 

 than if black powder had been used. Had a few of my 

 cartridges acted in the manner described by W. E. W. , I 

 should have quit using such powder, and I am not easily 

 scared. 



I have been recently experimenting with a new gun and 

 loads of black and nitro powders. This gun is of medium 

 grade, well balanced and put together, and looks as though 

 it would stand well. It is a 71b. hammerless made for 

 game shooting. 



In testing I used 3drs. of two brands of black powder 

 and 2fdrs. of a nitro claimed to be equal to any. The tar- 

 gets were 30 circles. Shooting at center of such target 

 (not taking selected group) at 40yds. the nitro made the 

 most regular patterns. The highest pattern was made 

 with black powder and also the lowest. At 55yds. I tested 

 both pattern and penetration and at this distance the nitro 

 beat the black every time on both pattern and penetration, 

 the pattern being from 50 to 100$! better. 



While there is no doubt that machine loaded cartridges 

 are well loaded and shoot well I prefer to do my own load- 

 ing, and always have, both for my hunting rifle and shot- 

 guns. I do not think I have shot 1,000 cartridges other 

 than of my own loading. I have taken great pains and 



my loading suits me and I know what I am shooting 

 Now I cannot help thinking there is a tendency to keep 

 accidents that happen (unless of very serious nature) with 

 nitros out of the papers. I never saw myself but one ac- 

 cident where the gun was wrecked, although several 

 times I have- known cases of excessive recoil. I have rea- 

 son to think, however, that a number of guns have been 

 damaged more or less during the past year by the use of 

 nitro. A leading gun manufacturer wrote me that it was 

 possible to wreck any gun with nitro if improperly or care- 

 lessly loaded, and for this reason gunmakers did not care 

 to guarantee their guns when using it. There is no ques- 

 tion of the superiority of nitro over black powder in some 

 points, but I think it would be well for sportsmen to give 

 accounts of their experience. C. M. Stark. 



DUNBARTON, N. H. 



Aurora, Mo., Sept. 8. — Editor Forest and Stream: 

 After reading W. E. W.'s experience with nitros, I can- 

 not think what make of guns or nitro he has been using. 

 For the last two or three years I have been using a 12- 

 gauge gun of 7£lbs. in weight. I have the first time to 

 have an accident; have never had a shell burst or head 

 pull off, and always use 3£drs. of nitro. A. E. Gibson. 



WATER SHOTS AND GROUND SHOTS. 



Topeka, Kan., Sept. 7. — Editor Forest and Stream: 

 Answering your editorial query appearing in the current 

 issue of Forest and Stream as to the "difference between 

 potting a bunch of birds on the water and potting a 

 bunch of birds on land," I would submit that to my 

 mind there is a very great difference both in the results 

 following such shots, also a vast ethical difference between 

 the two acts. 



In shooting any land game bird, "pot shooting" has 

 long been justly condemned— the principal reasons being 

 that such methods are too deadly, and tend toward the 

 extermination of the species; that no skill is required, 

 either in approaching a covey of quail or chicken, or in 

 making the shot, and that therefore the act is not sports- 

 manlike. There can be no question but that the shooting 

 into a huddled mass of quail, closely packed together 

 under a bush or hedge, where a single discharge may and 

 often does wipe out the entire covey, is a most reprehen- 

 sible act. If given a chance for their lives, and allowed 

 to fly, one or more can certainly be killed by skillful 

 work, and with the aid of a good dog the birds may be 

 followed, found and flushed repeatedly, affording many 

 shots. Two or three coveys in fair cover will furnish 

 good sport for an entire day, all in a radius of a single 

 square mile. The season begins with the first browning 

 of the leaves in autumn, and ends only with the final 

 melting of the snows in spring. A man may go hunting 

 a score of times and yet not go out oftener than once a 

 week. 



How much of this is true of waterfowl? Very little in- 

 deed. Wariest of the wary, to approach within gunshot 

 of a flock of ducks, or worse still a watchful old gand< r, 

 often requires all the skill, patience and hard labor of d( er 

 stalking, and when after infinite toil a position is gained 

 from which a killing shot may be made, the game is not 

 found bunched in a circle with heads together inviting 

 wholesale destruction. Quite the contrary: your gunner 

 will be fortunate if he can find three or even two birds 

 close enough together to warrant a reasonable hope of 

 getting all three or both at one shot, and with the dis- 

 charge of the first barrel the whole flock rises, giving a 

 possibility only of getting one more bird with the second, 

 and the hunter is fortunate indeed if he ever again gets 

 another shot at that particular bunch of ducks. From 

 forty to sixty days out of the entire year will in most 

 localities cover the waterfowl season, for no gunner who 

 desires to retain his own self-respect, and the regard of 

 Forest and Stream, will shoot migratory game in the 

 spring. Fully one-half of this Bhort time the weather 

 will be unfavorable for Shooting and nothing can be done. 



So long as one may with the expenditure of equal 

 energy and skill bring ten head of land game to bag, to 

 one of waterfowl, it will be difficult to convince the aver- 

 age sportsman that "potting a bunch of birds on land" is 

 anything but detestable murder, or that "potting a bunch 

 of birds on the water" is not justified by the necessities of 

 the case. And therein lies the difference between the 

 two acts. - A. J. Hawker. 



Sistersville, W. Va. — Editor Forest and Stream: If 

 there is any difference it is in the favor of the one who 

 pots birds on the land. In many cases, on land, there is 

 only a few yards before a bird can get into dense brush, or 

 perhaps you can see it through some opening in the 

 woods, where a slight movement will place it entirely out 

 of sight, and one can be excused for potting under such 

 circumstances. I have in all cases let a quail get on the 

 wing entirely, although I would not have one chance in 

 ten of getting it. An old grouse, if I have not got a good 

 chance, I believe in potting, but I never potted a half a 

 dozen in my life. 



On the water, if you are near enough to pot the game, 

 you have a good chance on the wing, unless you are in 

 high rushes. I should say a better chance on account of 

 the more exposed vital parts. In fact, I should call one 

 who would shoot any bird sitting, whether on land or 

 water, where there was the slightest chance of getting it 

 on the wing, a pot hunter. 



My experience only covers the lakes of Central New 

 York, especially Keuka, and the Ohio and Alleghany 

 rivers. In all of this territory I can find no more excuse 

 for potting a bunch of birds on the water, nor so much as 

 I can for potting birds on land. Jim. 



Deer Skins from Colorado. 



Muscatine, la., Sept. 2.— Editor Forest and Stream: I 

 inclose to you a clipping from the Muscatine Journal: 



"After a week's hunt in Colorado, Chris. Aldinger, 

 Owen Baxter and I. B. Wilson, of What Cheer, are in 

 the city on their way home, visiting friends and exhibit- 

 ing several deer skins, the result of their frontier investi- 

 gations." 



I haven't the pleasure of "an acquaintance with Chris., 

 Osven and I. B., but they evidently have been doing some- 

 thing they should not have done, and of which they 

 should feel ashamed. T. T. 



Ihe FOREST AND STREAM is put to press each week on 'Tues- 

 day. Correspondence intended for publication should reach 

 V* at the lattst by Monday, andasmuch earlier aepraotioable. 



