834 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Dec. 21, 1895, 



OUT AND BACK AGAIN. 



The jolly and genial fifteen men that compoae the 

 Three States Hunting Club have been to Arkansas on their 

 outing for 1895, and it is possible that your readers will be 

 glad to read of the sport that we so much enjoyed. 



We left the K, C., F. S. & M. R. R, at Marked Tree, 

 thirty -nine miles out from Memphis, and went by wagons 

 to what is known in that section as Fuller's Camp, on the 

 Right Shoot of Little River, twenty miles from the rail- 

 road. We were on the road nearly a day and a half 

 - before we decided the exact spot on which we would strike 

 camp, because we were suspicious of our ground. The 

 great waste of wilderness around us was made up of 

 swamps and glades, with here and there a little 10ft. ridge 

 of "blue stem," and beside this we saw -but little that it 

 seemed to us would be attractive for deer or turkeys to 

 range upon. Within an hour after we had Btretched our 

 tents it began to rain, and the balance of the day was 

 soaking wet. The next morning we were all pretty blue, 

 and were wishing we had selected some other place for 

 our hunt. But as the wagons were returned to the town 

 we could do nothing but stay in the locality selected, and 

 make the best of it we could. 



We had four dogs with us that we expected would help 

 us in our hunt for venison. But they proved to be of little 

 service, as they were without any previous training. We 

 entered the woods with a determination to do what we 

 could in getting game. It was apparent before the first 

 day's hunt was over that we were in the midst of a very 

 fine range of deer, though we had all failed to get one. 

 Several of us saw the shy creatures as they were dexter- 

 ously avoiding our stealthy efforts to become somewhat 

 famdiar with them. The day was nearly gone, and not 

 one of us had killed anything more than a few squirrels. 

 The next day would be Sunday, and this club never vio- 

 lates the Sabbath by the boom of gun or the chase of 

 game. What were we to do for our Sunday meat? 



Just before sundown some four of us took our fish 

 hooks and a few minnows we had caught, and thought 

 we would tempt the finny tribe a bit, to see what our 

 luck would be in that line. The river was near by and 

 the signs of fish were good. It took us but a little time 

 to be ready for a cast. We selected a large tree top that 

 had fallen in the edge of the river, and while others of us 

 were rigging our lines, our genial and lucky hunter and 

 fisherman, Tom Harris, cast his hook into the water, and 

 before he could take in the situation a fine "croppie" had 

 it and was gone. He landed the fish promptly and cast 

 in his hook a second time, and under went the cork and 

 out came another fine fish. All became excitement to 

 those of us not yet ready, for fear we would not get a 

 chance at the fish until the luck would turn. But our fears 

 were needless, as we were able to land twenty-five of these 

 very excellent fish within about thirty minutes, and they 

 were just as ready to take our bait at the close as when 

 we began. In fact, we found this to be the best fishing 

 locality we had ever seen. There seemed to be no possi- 

 bility of our affecting the supply of fish. We caught all 

 we wanted and could catch them any time we went after 

 them. Not only the splendid perch fish, but the lively 

 black bass was easily taken, and we had all we wanted 

 in camp and carried some of them home to our wives and * 

 * children. I have never seen the equal of Little River for 

 fine fishing. 



We rested on Sunday and early Monday morning we 

 were out for a chase. The rain had measurably erased 

 the tracks of the deer that had been made before our 

 arrival and we could easily determine about the supply 

 by carefully noting the evidences of their perambulations. 

 It was a wonder to think of the number of these denizens 

 of the forest that must have been in that locality, and 

 the size of some of them must have been enormous. 

 They had actually made roads through the passages 

 between the fields of tall saw grass that spread itself out 

 over the country. Our dogs could get up a deer as easily 

 as they pould get up a rabbit in the old sedge fields at 

 home; but they would not stay with the deer. They 

 seemed to become disgusted with them because they 

 could not stay close enough to them. Because of the in- 

 competency of our dogs we did not get as many deer as 

 we would have secured if there had been no dogs in the 

 crowd. We were inclined to depend on the dogs to bring 

 the deer to us, and for that reason we did not go out to 

 take them on our own account. 



We walked and hunted with tolerable faithfulness un- 

 til Tuesday before we had killed a single thing, except 

 some squirrels. We had plenty of fish, but no other 

 game. On Tuesday a gang of wild turkeys ventured into 

 the section where we were hunting, and Tom Harris. Ben 

 Hillsman and Wellington Ethridge were not slow in 

 taking their chances at them and brought in seven fine 

 gobblers. Joe Browder had also taken his chances on 

 some ducks that same day and brought in some fat mal- 

 lards, Others of us had squirrels and had caught fish 

 until we had an abundance of meat on hand. 



The next day we determined to do better on the deer 

 business. We were beginning to feel ashamed of, our- 

 selves. We had never failed to get a nice lot of deer in 

 any hunt we had ever had before. We had some good 

 deer hunters in the crowd and we must do better. This 

 was the decision of the camp. So out we went early in 

 the morning. We walked, we listened to the dogs as they 

 passed by us again and again on the hot trail of a buck. 

 We looked at their tracks, and slipped up easily and with 

 the most perfect stealth on to many tree tops and briar 

 thickets, but never a deer did we get. The crafty 

 fellows would outgeneral us at every turn. We were 

 beaten; we had no deer meat. We were getting thirsty 

 for blood and hungry for deer meat. 



About 2 o'clock in the afternoon, when but two of our 

 men were in camp, two gentlemen rode up and in a 

 familiar way said: "Gentlemen, we have been visiting the 

 different hunting camps up and down the river to ascer- 

 tain if the hunters had paid the license tax, and we did 

 not want to slight you. We have come to ask if you have 

 a license to hunt in Arkansas." Great goodness! License! 

 Why, of course not. We had hunted in Arkansas for 

 seven years and had never been called on for license be- 

 fore. No, we had no license; didn't want any license. 

 We were hot getting game enough to require the getting 

 of license, surely. But the gentlemen soon convinced us 

 that they meant business, whether they had any right to 

 the money or not, and as others of the "boys got in from 

 the day's chase they held a consultation and decided to 

 pay the license on eight of the boys, the officers agreeing 

 o let the remaining seven go free on that condition. 



This amounted to $6.40 for each of us, which we paid. 

 The officers took their departure, the rest of the boys 

 finally strolled into camp and the time we did have over 

 the fact that we were licensed hunters in Arkansas was 

 worth all that the license had cost us. We were all satis- 

 fied that the whole proceeding was a fraud, but as we 

 were getting full receipt for the money we were paying 

 out we believed we would find out about it more fully 

 later on. And we are engaged in that business now, with 

 a good prospeot of getting our money back and getting 

 the man that collected it in jail. He had the audacity to 

 go into another county than the one in which he lived, 

 and of which he was an officer, and collect the license in 

 a territory where he was without authority. 



Well, on Thursday we decided that as we had paid for 

 the privilege of killing some deer in Arkansas we were 

 determined to do it. So out we went, resolved to bring in 

 some of those bucks that had been playing around us. 

 We had a good crowd of faithful fellows, who would stay 

 in the woods as long as there seemed to be any use of it. 

 So it was late in the afternoon when we began to assem- 

 ble in camp. As each man made his way into the circle 

 of his fellows he was eagerly scanned to see if he had 

 signs of dead game about him. Several of us brought in 

 squirrels and ducks, but it was left to our excellent friend, 

 George Dent, to bring down and bring in the first buck. 

 He killed a very fine fellow, and when we got him 

 stretched in camp we all agreed that if we had paid our 

 license a little sooner it is probable we would have killed 

 more deer. Each man joined in the rejoicing over the 

 fine buck we had in camp, as he himself joined in the 

 company. It was nearly sundown, and everybody was in 

 camp except Dr. De Myers, one of our most excellent men. 

 Inquiry was made and no one had seen him during the 

 day. It was soon agreed that he must be lost. The even- 

 ing shadows longer grew, and yet he did not return. We 

 began to figure as to what we should do. To be lost in 

 that vast wilderness was a very fearful thing. It was 

 miles and miles to where anybody lived, and the awful 

 loneliness of a night in such a forest was hardly bearable. 

 But to our delight a while before dark the Doctor walked 

 into camp, telling us the experiences of the day. He had 

 really been lost, and had walked about twelve or fourteen 

 miles in his hunt for camp, although he was at no time 

 more than four miles from camp. We were tired and 

 slept well, after a good supper of course, and were set on 

 doing something the next day, which was to be our last 

 in camp. 



We were out early on Friday morning. Some went 

 fishing, so as to get some fish to take home with us. They 

 had fine success, and got all they wanted. Prof. McCail 

 got a fine turkey, and Mr. Barry killed the largest deer 

 we had seen. Mr. Browder also knocked down a deer, 

 but it got away from him. We had a pretty fair day's 

 hunt for our closing day. In fact, we had just got on to 

 the range and run of the deer, and if we had been able to 

 stay a few days longer the probability is that we would 

 have had a very successful time of it. As it was, we felt 

 that we had had a very pleasant time. Our company was 

 a very fine lot of men, all of one spirit, and not a frac- 

 tious or heady man in the lot. We had no profanity, no 

 drinking, no quarreling, no fighting. We did well, paid 

 our license, ate all the game we could while in camp, 

 never saw better fishing, all of us improved in health, and 

 we returned home in good time, with our minds made up 

 to do better next fall. 



Wasn't that a fine hunt? J. N. Hall. 

 Fulton, Ky. 



LITTLE SUNNY SPOTS. 



St. Augustine, Dec. 7.— Editor Forest and Stream: 

 There are sunny spots in life that stick. I am about as 

 old as Methuselah was at the same age, and have conse- 

 quently had opportunities for skimming off the very 

 cream of shooting and fishing in the early days of our 

 worn-out country, when quail, partridges and woodcock 

 would pop up anywhere in the woods and fields upon the 

 slightest provocation, and when a man who put up a tres- 

 pass sign was considered the meanest cuss in Christendom. 

 But though the finest bird shooting has been fairly thrust 

 upon me all my life, there were certain little trips that 

 were so enjoyable as to make impressions that can never 

 be effaced, though they may have counted very little in 

 the eyes of record hunters. 



One of the most delightful afternoons I ever spent was 

 in the woods near Boston. It was a soft and warm Octo- 

 ber day, with not a breath of wind, and the few leaves 

 left upon the trees were of the richest color. It was alto- 

 gether tempting enough to make a sportsman break his 

 business chains even if starvation stared him in the face 

 for doing it. On the spur of the moment I went to my 

 room and got my gun, fully bent on having a delightful 

 autumn stroll, though I had not even a dog for a com- 

 panion. The Providence cars were just about to leave 

 the depot, and I bought a ticket to one of the stations a 

 few miles out, with the intention of buying another if 

 the place did not look wild enough. When I reached a 

 place that pleased me I got out and walked across a little 

 meadow to a thicket of small trees, and had scaicely 

 taken twenty steps before a woodcock rose and fell. I 

 proudly picked him up and strolled on very leisurely — as 

 my object was more a pleasant stroll than shooting— and 

 I had scarcely gone ten paces when another whistle 

 sounded, and he shared the fate of his predecessor. I 

 went a few steps further and a third was bagged. I be- 

 gan to think, very naturally, that "the woods were full 

 of them," and expected that by thoroughly hunting the 

 little thicket over I'd be loaded down, but there was not 

 another in it. I had gone to all three as straight as the 

 best nosed pointer could have done it. 



After assuring myself that I had left nothing there, I 

 walked leisurely down a beautiful ravine through the 

 open woods, killing in the course of an hour three par- 

 tridges in three successive shots. 



I felt that day as if a bird could not escape if he got up 

 near enough. The whole business was so quietly and 

 neatly done that I could not have gained more satisfac- 

 tion if I had bagged a grizzly or an elephant. 



Another little episode in my life that is equally bright 

 in my memory was at Chicago, when that grimy and 

 wicked city was little more than a cluster of small wood- 

 en houses with their gable ends toward the street. I 

 went out on the prairie three or four miles from town to 

 look for ducks, and was standing by the side of a stream 

 with not a duck feather in sight when I heard a peculiar 

 sound a long distance off, and on looking for the cause I 

 saw in the distance two large birds coming directly to- 



ward'me'and keeping up that peculiar laughing sound. 



I hastily made myself flat and inconspicuous — though 

 the grass was hardly high enough to hide me— examined 

 my gun to see that all was right, and waited. I saw they 

 were a pair of Canada geese, and scarcely 50ft. high. 

 When they got to within 15 or 20yds. of me I jumped up 

 and they separated, and I dropped one on each side of me. 

 As they flopped around on the grass it seemed to relieve 

 the monotony of the dull old prairie amazingly. That 

 spot is now almost in the heart of the city, but still I see 

 that pair of beautiful white geese as plainly as when the 

 grass was there. 



There was shooting enough around Chicago then — in 

 fact so much that we seldom took the trouble to go so far 

 as the Calumet (where even a record hunter could find 

 ducks enough), because we could find enough game 

 nearer. 



My health was at one time so disturbed by drinking the 

 sewerage water from the Chicago River that I went up to 

 Madison, Wis. , to recruit. It was just at the time when 

 they were trying to give the embryo town a boom, and 

 everything was wild and new. In these degenerate, 

 worn out days Chicago sportsmen are willing to go even 

 to Dakota for the glory of bagging a dozen grouse, vul- 

 garly called prairie chickens — while the sportsmen of 

 those days found them in such numbers that the sport 

 was not appreciated. 



I very soon wearied of it and would always leave 

 them if we stumbled on quail or snipe, because no skill 

 was required in killing the grouse. It was simply tire- 

 some, stupid work. One time only did I put myself on a 

 par with the record hunter. An Englishman who was 

 living in Madison at the time and kept a fine dog said 

 that a farmer who lived some miles out wanted him to 

 kill off some of the "chickens" that were destroying his 

 grain, and he was willing to go if I would join him, to 

 which I agreed. Under the circumstances it was not dis- 

 reputable to slaughter as many as we could, and we went 

 back to town with our two-horse box wagon heaping full, 

 and the thanks of the farmer for our services. We dis- 

 tributed our bag among the hotels and all who wanted 

 them, so they were not wasted. 



When I go out now and hunt a whole section of crea- 

 tion over for a bird I think of those days and heave a 

 sigh. 



Even so late as twenty years ago I had some of my 

 most enjoyable shooting days in the vicinity of New York 

 city, days that I look back on with the greatest pleasure. 

 I would take the Erie cars as far out as Hohokus, and 

 sometimes to Turner's, and get to my shooting ground by 

 about 9 o'clock, and usually went back in the evening 

 with several woodcock and partridges, after a most de- 

 lightful autumn stroll. On one of these trips I got eight 

 fine woodcock and not a partridge. I was never annoyed 

 by trespass signs in those blissful days, and these little 

 trips were far more enjoyable than a tiresome prairie 

 tramp even with 50 or 100 grouse as a result. Didymus. 



IN THE COLVILLE. 



Some day, not so very djstant, the Government will 

 open the ColvUle Indian reservation in Washington to 

 white settlement. It is made possible with the opening 

 of this reserve for the enthusiastic sportsmen of this wide 

 country to enjoy an entirely new hunting ground; one, 

 too, which has been for a quarter of a century unknown 

 to the white hunter, and whose mysteries are yet to be 

 explored. That they will appreciate it cannot be doubted, 

 for here is a grand game country indeed, with many 

 mountain streams, in which myriads of trout show their 

 glittering sides to the sun, and picturesque camping 

 places in snug valleys convenient to the haunts of deer, 

 bear, ruffed grouse and prairie chickens. 



It was my good fortune last summer to spend five 

 months with the Government surveyors in this land of 

 delight, and I can say truthfully that five months were 

 never more pleasantly spent, nor were any five months 

 ever so fraught with good sport and good luck. 



With a crew of twelve hungry men to supply with 

 fresh meat, one man found his job a sinecure. He did 

 not hunt one-quarter of his time, and that was done on 

 horseback at.no great distance from camp. Game was 

 so plentiful and so easy to get that the men rebelled at it 

 as a steady diet, and demanded bacon at least once a day 

 as a luxury they were entitled to. 



This land, as has been said, is a new country, and its 

 trails and bypaths are known only to a few, and this 

 knowledge is confined mostly to the half-breeds and 

 Indians who have made this country their home since it 

 has been a reservation. Fortunately for us. our guide, 

 packer and hunter, Maxime Deshottle, had lived many 

 years in the reserve, and knew the twistings and turnings 

 of the trails, the ins and outs of this land, so well that 

 whenever duty would permit, and we were so inclined, 

 with him to show the way, we were certain to get good 

 sport in the minimum amount of time and with the least 

 amount of climbing. 



To descend from the general to the particular the best 

 sport is to be had here in the fall. From September until 

 December deer are found in great numbers; they are 

 constantly on the move, frequent the valleys and open 

 hillsides, and at this time are the easiest come at. If 

 there was a choice of hunting ground in the reserve I 

 would say that around the base of Mt. Bonaparte, and 

 particularly east from it to the Curlew Valley, is the best 

 plac on the reserve for good diversified sport. From this 

 mountain t'„ ; jiate four beautiful creeks, Bonaparte, 

 Mill *' ■■'ti." \- xerroda creeks. They teem with moun- 

 tain 1 the bills and valleys through which they 

 flo alive with grouso and prairie chickens, and 



evt ere — one place is no L etter than another — deer 

 are j, with now and then an occasional bear to relieve 

 the monotony. 



The easiest way into this country i3 over the Spokane 

 Northern R. R. from Spokane to Marcus, and then up 

 Kettle River to Terroda Creek, then up Terroda Creek as 

 far as you wish to go. This is the easiest way; the road 

 winds over bunch-grass hills, through lovely valleys and 

 cultivated farms; crosses Kettle River repeatedly and is 

 withal a delightful way into the reserve. But for pic- 

 turesque scenery, and for those who like to rough it when 

 out for a good time in the mountains, the old Hudson 

 Bay Company's trail from Marcus to the Okanogan is the 

 ideal way into this country. Thi3 trail begins at the con- 

 fluence of Kettle River and the Columbia, follows down 

 the Columbia six mile3, then climbs over a spur of the 

 mountains to the Sin-pail-hu, then up this stream, cross- 



