OCT. 12, 1895.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



311 



In the fall of the year in question he killed twenty- six 

 moose for the market, all of which were put to good use 

 in supplying meat to the settlements. As the winter 

 advanced a party of Canada Indians came into Jock's 

 hunting country, which was no great distance from the 

 spot where he told the story, and began an indiscriminate 

 slaughter for the hides alone. 



The game seemed certain of extermination, and not 

 willing to see the Indians get all the profits, Jock took 



felt something slimy deposited on the seat beside me, and 

 turning suddenly beheld the dog, her head cocked on one 

 side, ears forward and eyes twinkling, ready to play the 

 moment I should reach out my hand for the stone. I 

 tossed the stone into the road, and in a moment she had 

 jumped down and recovered it, and was back on the 

 rapidly moving wagon. 



Long before we reached our destination she was reduced 

 to solitaire again, but her enthusiasm never waned. She 



BACKWOODS BREAD BAKING. 



a hand also. Before spring he had secured seventy-five 

 moose hides — a statement which contains a volume in 

 itself. Most of the moose of course were killed in the 

 yards, and it is a wonder that any of the race survived. 



Parenthetically Jock remarks that moose are at any 

 time of year much easier to kill than deer, provided you 

 can find them. He says that on two occasions he shot 

 four moose in succession from the same spot with a 

 muzzle-loading rifle. He dropped each moose with a 

 single shot, and the others stood and looked on while he 

 measured bis powder and rammed home the ball designed 

 for their special benefit. 



In connection with the abundance of moose Jock told 

 of the scarcity of deer. In fact there were no deer at all 

 in the Sebois country at the time of which he spoke. 

 Moose and caribou had the region entirely to themselves. 



The wolves even had followed the deer further east and 

 south. Around the settlements the deer led an unen- 

 viable life. Harassed on one side by the ever hungry 

 wolves and on the other by scarcely leBs bloodthirsty 

 men who killed by the wholesale on the crust, they were 

 thirty years ago nearly exterminated. Darling says that 

 he traveled on the snow once for a week through what 

 had been one of the best deer ranges in Maine and only 

 saw the tracks of three deer. The wolves and crust-hunt- 

 ers between them had made a clean sweep. 



This very depletion of their numbers proved the salva- 

 tion of the remaining deer. The wolves migrated to 

 better hunting grounds, and public sentiment was aroused 

 against crust-hunting, with all its cruelty and wasteful- 

 ness. One incentive for this style of hunting had been 

 the open market for venison at any time of year. 



A rigid close season, which included the months of 

 heavy snows, made illegal venison unmarketable, except 

 perhaps to the lumber camps and in small quantities, and 

 thus one of the greatest channels for the drain was closed. 



The law limiting the number of deer killed by any one 

 man was a deterrent upon skin-hunting. And so by de- 

 grees the situation improved until to-day the deer are far 

 more abundant in most localities than they ever were in 

 the history of the State. 



The great increase in the number of deer began twenty 

 years ago, and Darling thinks it was due in a measure to 

 immigration from some section further west. He argues 

 that the breeding stock left in the State was not sufficient 

 to account for the great and miraculous increase that 

 took place, and that it must have been due to some ex- 

 traneous source. 



When the wolves migrated the deer moved into the 

 moose range, and to-day they are as abundant there as 

 elsewhere. The only limit to their increase seems to be 

 the amount of food available. The number killed by 

 hunting, both legal and illegal, has not apparently as 

 yet checked the increase, 



A Dog With a Fad. 



The dog shown with Jock in the illustration belonged 

 to Brown, the driver who carried us back in the woods. 

 She was a most intelligent animal, and possessed an ex- 

 uberant store of vitality. She also was mistress of an ab- 

 normal appetite for stones— not that she actually ate 

 them, bat she always carried one in her mouth like a quid 

 of tobacco, or perhaps in deference to her sex I had setter 

 say "a portion of chewing gum." 



When we learned to know her better we found that this 

 little idiosyncrasy of hers was a direct result of her ex- 

 uberant spirits, and that she carried the stones to play 

 with them. Her owner pointed out a lump on her fore- 

 head that he said she received by failing to catch in her 

 mouth a stone thrown her; and her teeth were much the 

 worse for wear as a result of her over-enthusiastic play. 



For the first part of our journey she was content to 

 have a little game of solitaire with the stones, which were 

 only too abundant along the highway, but after a while 

 she tired of this, and I noticed her looking wistfully at 

 the wagon upon which we were riding. A little later I 



stopped the game but once, and then she had provocation, 

 for a large field mouse ran across her path. She dropped 

 the Btone then only long enough to bolt the mouse. 



At Hay Brook Farm she was as full of play as ever, and 

 the picture shows her just after she had sneaked up to 

 Jock and laid a stone upon his knee. She has withdrawn 

 to what in her opinion is a proper distance, and is ready 

 for play. 



It is interesting to note that a pup of hers at this same 

 farm has inherited her love of playing with stones, but 

 the mother is the friskiest and most indefatigable at the 

 game. 



Uncle Jock's Log Cabin. 

 After selling out at Nicatous, Darling began looking 



"Uncle Jock's Log Cabin," and will no doubt hereafter 

 be the headquarters of many hunting parties. Though 

 as yet uncompleted, I can picture it now, as I hope to see 

 it this winter, with somber-colored carcasses of game 

 hanging from its eaves — perhaps a moose, possibly only 

 deer and caribou, maybe a bear in his coat of brilliant 

 black— the whole garnished by festoons of partridges, 

 and set off by a background of fleecy whiteness. 



J. B . BlfRNHAM. 



A DAY'S SPORT. 



Mr. George W. Hatchett had, during his vacation in 

 upper New York State, a rather remarkable experience 

 with the fauna of that region. 



"It seems almost a pity," said Mr. Hatchett, "that I was 

 alone at the time. I am rather apt to understate things 

 (Mr. H. is a drummer) and my horror of exaggeration, or 

 of what might appear to be such, compels me to omit all 

 account of my fishing." 



My host at the little place where I stopped kindly gave 

 me some valuable pointers (seeing I was from the city and 

 inexperienced), and when I was starting for a day in the 

 woods he thoughtfully fitted me out. A quantity of hard 

 crackers, a piece of uncooked salt pork and a quart of 

 molasses as indispensables, together with a package of 

 ground coffee and a coffee pot, made a compact parcel 

 he slung across my left shoulder. From my right shoul- 

 der he slung a hatchet, a frying pan, a coil of clothes line 

 and a hand saw. He intrusted to me his own fowling 

 piece, which he called a Queen's arm, with ammunition, 

 and with kindly enthusiasm beaming from hit* eyes he 

 wished me good luck, his honest wife and daughter com- 

 ing to the doorway and almost laughing at my ardor. 



Once into the trackless woods with my trusty weapon, 

 I was alert for game, but for several hours trudged on 

 seeing nothing. Suddenly in a glade just ahead I saw 

 two grayish brown objects not far apart and instantly 

 fired. My host must have put in a heavier charge than he 

 intended, for there was a fearful report and the recoil of 

 the piece nearly knocked me over, but I killed both 

 animals, which I soon saw were woodchucks. At the 

 sound of the report I noticed a reddiBh streak flash into 

 the end of a fallen tree and I at once set to work with my 

 saw and evened off the hollow end, then with stout stakes 

 trimmed with my hatchet I securely barricaded the open- 

 ing; imprisoning the fox, as I had no doubt it was, until 

 I could come back and get him. My long tramp had made 

 me hungry, so I built a fire, and with some crackers, fried 

 pork and strong coffee had a good snack. I was smoking 

 my third pipe when a crackling of dried twigs caused me 

 to turn around and I saw two bears, an old one and a half 

 grown cub, making toward me. Leaving my arms, provi- 

 sions and implements I mounted into a tree, my coil of 

 clothes line still across my shoulder. The bears at 

 once began eating my crackers and pork and ■ 

 were particularly pleased with the molasses, which 

 they licked from the bottle as one after the other 

 they took it in their paws and upturned it. The 

 big one was sitting up preparing to finish the bottle when 

 I dropped a noose over her head and swayed away at the 

 rope, which I had thrown over a limb above me. Gentle- 

 men, I have sold a bill of goods to old C. up in Connecti- 

 cut, but never, with that exception, did I have such a 

 tussle. Indeed, without some assistance from thp younger 

 bear I might not have succeeded. He in his surprise and 



THE END OF THE CARRY, WORDLET BROOK. 



about for a new hunting country. He cannot rid himself 

 of his love of the woods— that lies at the root of his 

 nature— and though he could well afford to give up guid- 

 ing and settle down, inaction and comfort have no charms 

 for him. 



Nothing could quite make up to him for the excitement 

 of the chase, for his balsam bed at night or for his light 

 canoe by day that knows and obeys his touch like a thing 

 of life. Jock loves these too well to put up with the 

 humdrum of civilization, and for an excuse to be in the 

 woods he guides. 



He has selected the Sebois country as being one of the 

 best large game sections in Maine, and one of the few 

 localities where moose, caribou and deer are all to be 

 found in numbers. 



He has secured a lease of a large tract of country about 

 Grand Lake, and has nearly completed a roomy perma- 

 nent camp near the outlet. This will be known as 



wrath grabbed the loose end of the rope, which had 

 fallen to the ground, and yanked at it, thus materially 

 aiding my efforts. The old. one was finally done for, and 

 while the young one was moving around her I slipped 

 down from the tree and with a charge from the gun and 

 a few blows with the hatchet finished him. I saw I would 

 barely have time to get back to the house before night- 

 fall, so I prepared to return. I now observed that the 

 shaking of the branches in my struggle with the bear 

 had created a disturbance in the tree. Bees in great 

 numbers were buzzing around, and I had to dodge about 

 to avoid being stung. It was, I saw, a bee tree. As 

 nothing could be done till the next day, I made my way 

 homeward and spent a restful evening arranging for the 

 bringing in of the honey and game. I ticked off the re- 

 sults of my trip as follows: One-sixth dozen woodchucks, 

 one-sixth dozen bears, one-twelfth dozen red foxes, one 

 bee tree (E. and O. E.). 



