44 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Feb. 9, 1888. 



clear, sharp snap of a dry limb told where a heavy foot 

 had been placed; and there he was, stalking slowly over 

 the little barren, his nose thrown high up, his ponderous 

 horns seeming to rest on his shoulders as he sniffed the 

 air, the long "bell" hanging from his throat. A magnifi- 

 cent specimen of the brute creation he was. For a few 

 seconds he stood, then advanced slowly, hardly making a 

 sound; an immense beast, but still moving as 'softly as a 

 cat. On, on, to the very edge of the water, not 80yds. 

 from the bow of the boat. Little he dreamed that two of 

 the deadliest marksmen in the Provinces had their eyes 

 fixed on him. His breath showed white in the night air. 

 Slowly he swayed his huge head back and forth, as if to 

 take in the ground and scent danger if any lurked near. 

 Alas, poor brute, you have come to your fate. The slight- 

 est sign of fear, one suspicious act showing the least in- 

 clination to turn and fly, and the deadly rifles would have 

 jumped to the shoulders in a moment.' But not a sign 

 did he show, slowly first one foot then the other, splash, 

 splash. He eDters the water and turns up the creek a 

 little way; then stops; again a little way and stops, evi- 

 dently listening. Presently further up, ahead of the 

 moose and to one side, a sound is heard. What can it 

 be. it sounds like water poured from a height, from one 

 vessel into another containing water. That is exactly 

 what it is. It is the birch horn of the hunter filled with 

 water and allow ed to empty itself slowly into the creek. 

 The effect of this sound on the moose is instantaneous. 

 With one mighty bok he springs forward. One, two, 

 three, four plunges he makes, when two reports ring out 

 on she still air, crack, crack, followed by a heavy splash. 

 How puny, how insignifi ant those slight reports. But 

 ons may know by the heavy plunge and the total silence 

 which follows that the shots have don 3 then deadly work. 

 A loud shout comes from Matteo, "He's down, Billy, 

 make hurry quick ;" and grasping the poles they are soon 

 on the creek. 



About 100yds. further up another canoe is now seen; 

 hurry ins forward they meet midway; and there with one 

 great horn out of the water, the o her buried deep in the 

 mud of the creek, the nose slightly out of wat r, dark 

 blood and foam mixing with the clear liquid of the creek, 

 the mighty monarch of the bog and barren slowly br eat Iigs 

 his last Not a word is spoken, not a sound is heard, 

 save the labored breathing of the poor brute, as his head 

 sinks lower and lower, and presently his nose sinks be- 

 neath the water. Ho-ho-ho, to-hoo] cries the owl, as 

 away he flaps, evidently satisfied now as to the mission 

 of tne burners. Roused by the owl a great cheer goes up 

 from ttie two canoes, with a hearty shaking of hands and 

 explanations on both sides. A s'tout rope having been 

 produced from one of the canoes, they are ranged up side 

 by side. A hitch is taken round the two horns, the two 

 ends are made fa*t to the sterns of the canoes and they 

 slowly make their way down the creek and up the lake 

 to the camp on the island, arriving there just as the first 

 gray streaks of light appear m the east, the moon having 

 hid herself soon after the death of the moose, as if 

 ashamed of lending her aid to such bloody work. It 

 takes the united sitreugth of the party to roll the big 

 beast out on the beach. This done, they gloat over his 

 mignty proportions, his horns, his bead and shanks. 

 Then they betake themselves to their tent to snatch a 

 few hours of needed rest. The sun is high in the heavens 

 when they awake; the fire is soon rekindled, a bountiful 

 breakfast, composed of moose stake, fried onions, pota- 

 toes, hard-tack and hot coffee is soon prepared by Billy, 

 then all hands proceed to dress and skin the moose. 



Much ha* been said and written concerning the siz3 

 and weight of these animals. The writer has seen them 

 estimated as weighing 1,200 and even l,5001bs. This may 

 be correct, but he has never seen one of that size. Nine 

 hundred pounds would represent the weight of the largest 

 he ever saw. The present moose was a fine one, in prime 

 order and with good horns. He was soon stripped of his 

 skin, the shanks being cut around high up, to make 

 moccasins, or boots. The skin was stretched between 

 two poles to dry; and the quarters having been thoroughly 

 washed were hung up. 



The remainder of the day was spent in fishing, and 

 shooting black ducks on th> lake; and grouse in the birch 

 covers. Early in the morning of the following day, Ron- 

 ald and Matteo taking one of the canoes proceeded down 

 the lakes and to the settlement with the meat and head; 

 the meat to be sent to friends at home, and the head to be 

 set up by a taxidermist, as a trophy. 



A week still remained, but it is not my purpose to tell 

 here how George and Billy spent the time; sufficient to 

 say they enjoyod then outing. They called no more, 

 neither did they still-hunt although sign was plenty. One 

 moose was enough. They fished, and prospected, and 

 shot grouse and ducks, and put in as pleasant a week as 

 was possible for two enthusiastic lovers of the wilderness 

 to spend, and when the time came to strike camp, it was 

 with a feeling of regret that they saw the last package 

 placed in the cano.e, and then taking their places they bid 

 adieu to the little island where they had passed so many 

 happy days. Globe Sight. 



New Glasgow, N. S. 



BOB. 



T)OB. Dear, kind, patient old Bob. Will I ever forget 

 JO that day in the woods with Bob? Not while these 

 hands can steady a gun barrel and these eyes glance along 

 its shining steel. 



My acquaintance with Bob dates back to those good old 

 days, when wing-shooting was seldom talked of, never 

 attempted in our country; and a bird on the wing was as 

 safe as a squirrel in a hollow tree. 



I was spending a week at old Si Evans's on Rock Creek. 

 The month was October. Pike and bass fishing were 

 both at their best, and a right royal time I was having, 

 breakfasting before daylight, wading all day in the clear 

 waters of Rock Creek, listening at very short intervals to 

 the ecu ic of the reel, whirling as only a Rock Creek p ke 

 or bass can make it whirl, returning at night tired and 

 hungry to a game and fish dinner cooked in the style 

 that lias made Si Evans's hotel famous through all the 

 Western country. 



I first saw Bob before daylight on a frosty October 

 morning. I came down-stairs very early, all equipped 

 for a (fay's fishing. In the office of the hotel a bright 

 wood fire' was burning. Mr. Evans was busy trimming 

 bis lamps behind the little counter. Before the fire sat 

 Bob. He never even looked around at my entrance; he 

 sat with stolid indifference looking at the fire. 



He was very ugly. His little face was pinched and 

 wrinkled and gloomy looking, his eyes were deep set and 

 covered with shaggy eyebrows, a tuft of gray whiskers 

 hung down from his long chin; his body was long and 

 fat, his legs ■were crooked and bowed, with big joints and 

 big feet. 



Ugly as he was, there was something dignified in the 

 way he sat gazing at the fire, persuing the bent of his 

 own thoughts, regardless of all surroundings. 



"What is it, Si, and where did you get if?" 



"Oh, that? Why that's Bob. I raised Bob from a little 

 dog." 



"Well, you didn't have much success raising him," I 

 said, with a laugh. "He isn't much larger than a rabbit 

 now." 



"Oh, you needn't laugh, Mr. Fred, he's a good little dog. 

 Are you going to take your gun with you tb-day? because 

 if you are, take Bob along; he's a good little dog." 



After a short drive Bob and I landed on the banks of 

 Rock Creek. Thick gray fog was hanging over the 

 stream. The morning was cold. I put on a large chub 

 for bait, The third or fourth cast succeeded in fastening 

 my hook into a sunken log well out in the stream. The 

 hook was a favorite one that I didn't care to lose, nor 

 did I care to risk a wetting by wading out to it at this 

 time in the morning. I fastened the rod and took up my 

 gun, concluding to spend an hour or so in the woods, 

 trusting that something would loosen my hook in that 

 time. Bob during all this time sat quietly on the bank, 

 apparently absorbed in a deep canine philosophical 

 question. I spoke to him as I took up my gun. He 

 quietly got up and trotted after me. We took our way 

 across t he broad meadows toward a distant piece of tim- 

 ber. Several times while crossing the meadows I turned 

 and spoke to Bob; he looked up, then looked down; and 

 whether he was pleased with my recognition of him or 

 not I couldn't tell. If he was he gave no sign of it. Bob 

 unfortunately lacked that mo-t expressive part of a dog's 

 anatomy, a tail, so it was difficult to interpret his feel- 

 ings. Bob never left his place behind me until we en- 

 tered the woods. Then he trotted off, poked his head 

 into all the fallen treetops, investigated every little 

 clump of bushes, and finally got out of sight altogether. 

 Ten minutes later his sharp, short bark came from 

 another pan of the woods. I tinned toward it, remark- 

 ing, "Blast that dog! He has a ground squirrel treed and 

 will scare all the game out of the woods with his bark." 

 I pushed my way through the thick underbrush in the 

 direction of the bark. Suddenly whirrrl, whirrrl, whirrrl, 

 went the grouse, seemingly out of every tree and bush in 

 the neighborhood. Bob took it very good-naturedly and 

 trotted off into the woods. Evidently he had hunted with 

 aw kward so-called sjiortsnien before. 



A few minutes later I heard his bark again. This time 

 I approached more cautiously. At last I saw him sitting 

 unconcerned in a little open place in the woods. Motion- 

 less he sat, save that every no v and then he would raise 

 his 1 ead and give a short sharp bark. On a bush a few 

 rods from him stood a large cock grouse, his head up, his 

 neck stretched, evidently an interested listener to Bob's 

 canine music. Bang! The concert ceased, the grouse 

 was bagged, and Bob trotted off once more. 



His bark soon sounded through the woods again. This 

 time he had an audience of three; two were bagged. 

 And so on until we had captured seven very fine ruffed 

 grouse. 



Soon I heard his bark again, this _ time it seemed to be 

 moving. It came closer. I was trying to make out what 

 this could mean, when a rabbit darted aeross the opening 

 before me and entered the brush before I could shoot. 

 Bob came following after some 30 or 40ft. behind the 

 rabbit. A setter follows a rabbit so close that it is com- 

 pelled to hole to escape. Bob seemed to understand this; 

 he followed at a slow dog trot, just enough to keep the 

 rabbit amused. I could hear his yelp going further and 

 further, then circling round, then coming nearer and 

 nearer. Presently the rabbit darted out of cover almost 

 where he had before. This time I was ready for him and 

 he joined the grouse; and the dog trotted off. In this 

 little patch of underbrush Bob and I bagged four 

 rabbits. 



Bob was hunting along the hillside above me. I was 

 following along the bank of Rock Creek. Suddenly I 

 saw three wild ducks on the further side of the creek; fine 

 big fellows they were. I shot and killed one and 

 wounded another. Bob came running to me at the crack 

 of the gun, stood a minute on the bank, then discovered 

 the duck fluttering in the water. Without a word from 

 me he jumped in, swam across, passed the dead duck (as 

 it was safe), caught the wounded one, brought it to me, 

 then went back for the dead one. 



Seeing me move off, he seemed to understand that his 

 services were not longer needed and trotted into the woods 

 without waiting an approving nod, potting or frisking 

 about and lowering his head as a setter is prone to do after 

 he has made a successful point. Bob had too much 

 business on hand to wait for any such nonsense. 



Soon I heard his now musical bark again. This time 

 I found the dog lying at the foot of an oak tree. I ex- 

 amined the tree very carefully, but could see no grouse 

 on it, and walked on, Bob reluctantly following. Pres- 

 ently he lay down at the root of a hickory sapling and 

 barked up it. There was no grouse on it.' I started to 

 leave. Bob barked more savagely. I turned back and 

 examined the tree more carefully. This time I discovered 

 a gray squirrel sticking to the trunk of the tree. Four 

 squirrels were soon taken in this way. 



Bob and I were on top of a little ridge. Suddenly I 

 heard the familiar bark of a gray squirrel in the valley 

 below us. I started toward it. Bob got right behind me 

 and seemed to pick his steps for fear he would make a 

 noise and scare the squirrel. Presently I saw the squirrel 

 in the top of a hickory tree far below us. Bob saw it at 

 the same time. He darted past me down the hill. The 

 squirrel began to jump from tree to tree. When I got down 

 Bob was at least a dozen trees from the one on which I 

 had first seen the squirrel, bu,t the squirrel was on the 

 tree he was under. Bob and I bagged thirteen squirrels 

 in that piece of hickory timber. My last charge of 

 powder had been used on the thirteenth squirrel. It was 

 growing toward noon. We had made a satisfactory 

 morning's work — seven ruffed grouse, four rabbits, two 

 ducks, thirteen gray squirrels. I felt very well satisfied 

 as I shouldered my' game— not a light load — and turned 

 back to Rock Creek. 



When we got back to the place where I had left my 



rod I discovered that the line, instead of extending across 

 the creek in the direction of the sunken log, now stretched 

 far down the creok. Taking hold of the rod I was agree- 

 ably surprised to find a 51b. pike on the erd of the line. 

 Landing the fish, I fixed on a new bait, threw out the 

 line, and sat down on the bank, as I was very tired. 

 After resting a few minutes I thought I would look at 

 the bait to see whether it was alive. 



My line was a good deal longer than my rod. I felt too 

 indolent to reel it up, so I threw the rod back of me, 

 caught the line in my hands and pulled up the bait. I 

 was holding the bait in my hand, wdien splash went a 

 pike that had been following it. He almost jumped be- 

 tween my feet in his eagerness to get it. I threw the 

 bait into the water and I could see his big fandike tad 

 turn as he caught the lure and ran off with it. After a 

 lively little tussle I landed him, a fine fellow that weighed 

 good lOlbs. I put on another bait, and almost instantly 

 another took it. which proved exactly the same size— a 

 not uncommon thing in pike fishing." 



Bob and I then had lunch. An hour's rest and a smoke 

 freshened mo up considerably. There were soma choice 

 looking pools below me on the creek, and I concluded to 

 go to the nearest one and try it. The bass began biting 

 very keenly. I wandered from pool to pool, grew 

 interested in the fishing, and wandered further than I 

 intended. I was certainly a mile below where I had first 

 caught the pike. But the temptation was enough to lead 

 any one astray. I had eighteen black bass, ranging from 

 21bs. to 41bs. each, and two of them weighed a little over 

 51bs. apiece. But where was Bob? I had not seen him 

 for a long time. In fact, I had not thought of him any 

 more than I had thought of the game and pike I had left 

 on the creek bank. I hurriedly gathered up my bass and 

 started back. When I came near the spot I saw the 

 game and pike lying perfectly safe where I had left 

 them, and by the side of them lay Bob. 



I stopped and watched him a while. There seemed 

 sometliing noble in the faithfulness of that little black 

 dog. He knew I had left them unprotected, and through 

 all the hours of the afternoon he lay there and watched 

 them. While I stood looking at him some pigs, wander- 

 ing through the woods, approached nearer than I sup- 

 pose Bob thought they otu? ht to. Instantly he darted 

 out, drove them far up over the hill, then returned to his 

 charge. 



A few minutes' work transf erred game and fish to my 

 buggy. It was sundown. I had one large chub bait left. 

 It was just the bait to tempt a hungry pike. I had seen 

 a very large pike the day before in a pool a short distance 

 up the creek. Calling Bob after me I started for the 

 pool. The sun had gone down when I reached it. It lay 

 dark and gloomy looking in the midst of the woods. A 

 fallen treetop lay in the midst of the pool; I slipped my 

 bait in near this and dragged it along the top of the 

 water. Ic had not gone five feet before the pike ca :e 

 with a rush that shot him 2ft. in the ah, the bait lying 

 across his huge mouth. Down he plunged and shot up 

 stream. 



He was large, he was angry, he was fierce. I was 

 afraid to let out too much line, so I started to run along 

 the bank. As I did so my foot caught, my ankle twisted, 

 and I fell heavily, I tried to get up, but could not. The 

 pain was intense. I sat there and played that fish out, 

 worried him to the bank and dragged him up on the 

 grass. He weighed lS^lbs., but it was the end of mv fish- 

 ing. 



My ankle swelled. I tried to get up but couldn't. My 

 position was not an enviable one. Here I was in the 

 midst of a woods; no house near me; possibly not one 

 person in a week along here. Certainly I would have to 

 stay here all night. 



I tried to get up again. Again I fell down. I tried to 

 crawl. This gave me too much pain. 



Bob had been with me all the time. Suddenly I missed 

 him. I called and whistled, but no Bob came. 



I had been there possibly two hours, when I heard 

 voices coming through the woods. One I recognized as 

 that of old Si Evans. 



Soon Bob came running up and rubbed his nose against 

 me, followed closely by Evans and his man. The ex- 

 planation was soon made. It was all Bob's doing. 



"Where," said I, "did Bob learn so much?" 



"Oh! I trained him since he was a little pup," said 

 Evans. This explained all, for a more thorough sports- 

 man than old Si Evans cannot be found in three States. 



By the help of the men I got to my buggy and had the 

 pleasure of taking the finest bag of game into Dashville 

 that any single man had taken in that year — seven ruffed 

 grouse, two ducks, four rabbits, thirteen gray squirrels, 

 four pike and eighteen black bass, all the result of one 

 day's sport. 



The next October, when I got back to Si Evans's, almost 

 the first words I said were: "How's Bob?" 

 "Dead," answered Si. 



Although the day I have described was many years 

 ago, one of Bob's descendants now lies on the rug before 

 me as I write. His silver collar has engraved upon it 

 these words: 



T I M . 



GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDSON OF BOB. 



F. I, Sherman. 



Kingfisher in Winter in Massachusetts. — Taunton, 

 Jan. 30. — In your issue of Jan. 26 R. B. Lawrence reports 

 on the 20th inst. a kingfisher on Long Island Sound. On 

 the morning of Jan . 251 caught in a trap at our trout pond 

 a kingfisher. The mercury was about 10° below zero and 

 there was about 5in. of snow dn the ground. This is the 

 first kingfisher I ever saw in the winter. I know that the 

 bird has some down and is quite heavily feathered, but I 

 never heard that it tried to brave our Northern winters. 

 Where had he kept himself so long? We set our traps on 

 trees that have been sawed off where they are about Gin. 

 in diameter. The tree is then trimmed down for 10 or 

 12ft. and kept bare. This bare tree has an attraction for 

 every bird that comes into the neighborhood. We have 

 had these traps in position for several years and have 

 caught a great many hawks, owls, kingfishers, jays, etc. 

 -C.B. 



