Jlfl.Y 5, 1888.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



475 



a big buck, wbich the bitch followed and bayed in the 

 lake, and John and the freedman had waded in and shot 

 him. A quarter of an hour elapsed before I saw John 

 and the freedman coming bark with an immense buck 

 swung to a pole, with each end on their shoulders. They 

 were very tired, as it was deep wading through tbe sticky 

 mud and water. In the meantime we had kindled a fire, 

 and I was patiently smoking, awaiting their return. 



"Come, tell us all about it,*' I said to John. "Well, 

 Colonel, soon after I took my stand I saw the buck creep- 

 ing out where the scrape was. He seemed very uneasy, 

 as he smelt where we went along, and he stopped by tbe 

 side of a big cottouwood tree, with his head and shoulders 

 behind it. I knew it was my only chance for a shot, so I 

 fired at his hams. He was about eighty yards from me. 

 At the crack of tbe gun he ran off, with the tree between 

 us. and when he crossed to go into the lake I saw he had 

 a broken leg. I waited until Andrew came with Music; 

 we put her on the track, and he and I followed on foot as 

 fast as we could, as it was impossible to ride through the 

 mud and water. We heard Music baying for some time, 

 and when we got near the deep part of the lake we saw 

 her coming back. Whooping her back she swam into 

 the water, and we saw her go up to the buck that was 

 lying down. He rose and they had a terrific fight. An- 

 drew and I waded up to our waists, and the first chance 

 we could get to shoot without killing the bitch we both 

 fiicd. He did not fall but started to run. This gave me 

 a good opportunity to shoot, and I broke his neck with 

 my second barrel." We took out the entrails of the deer 

 and hung him to a tree, and kindled a fire to keep away 

 the buzzards that were hovering over us in large num- 

 bers, so soon attracted by the scent of blood. A favorite 

 part of a deer to me is the melt and heart. These I hung 

 on a bush near by. But when we returned at night the 

 buzzards had eaten them, though they had not touched 

 the buck, being kept away by the fire and smoke. 



In the meantime all the* hounds had returned and got- 

 ten a good bait of the entrails. Andrew reported seeing 

 five deer before the hounds as they ran back. 



This portion of the country is most favorably situated 

 for deer driving. A long narrow ridge, not over 200yds. 

 wide, was for five miles in the form of a half moon. On 

 one side it is bounded by a deep bayou, impassable except 

 at three points, where the deer cross often, and run into 

 an immense long cypress brake, wdiere the dogs either 

 lose them or they run across to Bayou River, and there 

 they are safe. This ridge is covered with thick brush, 

 vines and palmettoes, and immense trees of all varieties. 

 On the other side is an open overflow ground, about 

 I'OOydS. wide, and then begins the deep grassy lake, with 

 a fiat of very thick growth of tight-eye bushes between 

 the overflow and open water of the lake. The stands are 

 placed next to the ridge, and as it is so long it is divided 

 into several drives. At the head of the lake is a wide 

 brushy tract of land, which is bounded by small lakes, 

 and beyond them a narrow bayou called Watson, and 

 which can be crossed nowhere by horses or cattle, but deer 

 can cross it. 



Our next drive wa3 in this part of the country. Along 

 the overflow was a small slough'filled with water, at each 

 end of the slough is ajstand. John Warren took the lower 

 and myself the upper, while John Murrell went to Wat- 

 son's Bayou. It was not a quarter of an hour before I 

 heard the hounds in full ,cry coming as I thought, to my 

 stand. Then two heavy guns broke the stillness, down 

 where John stood, .and the hounds came booming by me, 

 too far in the brush for me to see them. They ran to 

 where Murrell's horn was tied, and suddenly turned as if 

 coming to me. Then, when in almost shooting distance, 

 veered and crossed Watson's Bayou, and then ceased 

 crying. 



I was standing with my back to a large ash tree, look- 

 ing in the direction the dogs had gone, when I suddenly 

 heard something going rip, rip, rip, behind me. Turning 

 partly around, I saw a yearling deer almost flying. Whirl- 

 ing entirely around the big tree, and bringing my ham- 

 nierless gun to my shoulder, I made the quickest shot I 

 ever made at a deer in my life; I knew I had the gun 

 on it as I fired, but I did not see it an instant after the 

 shot; the ground was oi^en. as regards trees and brush, 

 but covered with palmettoes, about three feet high. I 

 could discover no sign of blood nor any tracks, and 1 be- 

 gan to think I had not seen a deer, it was a mystery I 

 could not unravel. 



John Warren came running up and reported he had 

 shot both barrels at a big doe and had badly wounded 

 her. She had a yearling with her when he shot and they 

 were both going straight to my stand, but his shooting 

 had turned them. He was so confident the dogs would 

 catch the doe that he left his stand and came running 

 in the direction the dogs took when the doe turned 

 back, and he had met the little yearling and turned it to 

 me. It was too far for him to shoot. I told him what I 

 did and we both searched for blood, but could find none. 

 I told him that I heard the dogs stop after crossing Wat- 

 son's Bayou. He said he would go on there and endeavor 

 to meet up with John Warren, and that I had better 

 remain there until Andrew came out of the drive and 

 could bring me a dog to put on the track of my deer. As 

 I have not missed killing every deer I had shot at for the 

 last eighteen times I concluded to remain until a dog 

 could be got to find my deer, since I felt confident of 

 having killed it. The driver came out to me and I 

 directed him to get a hound if possible and return with it 

 to me. Remaining there a full hour I heard a hound 

 howling not far from me. I hollowed and Music 

 came up. Putting her on the track where I first 

 saw the deer, she would not open, but when she 

 got to the place where I shot she gave full cry and 

 bounded forward in the opposite direction from what I 

 thought the deer had taken. Opening at every leap, she 

 stopped in the palmettoes about eighty yards from me. 

 On going up I found my beautiful little deer stretched on 

 its side dead and stiff, fallen dead without a struggle. 

 To say I was glad was putting it mildly. Having no 

 horn, I could do nothing but hollow in the most lusty 

 manner, to get some one to come to my assistance. After 

 a long time John Murrrell rode up, and tying the deer to 

 his horse's tail, he dragged it to Avhere Warren and the 

 driver were waiting for the dogs, in the endeavor to find 

 the wounded doe. John told me it ran up to his horse 

 where it was tied, but he was too far to shoot, and then 

 it turned back in the direction of my stand. It was 

 badly crippled and he heard the dogs catch it, but he 

 could not locate the direction. He thought he could put 

 Music again on the trail and follow it to where it was 



caught. This was attempted, but it became too dark to 

 follow her, and he was forced to return back home. It 

 was nearly 9 o'clock at night when we got back to our 

 buck, and full 11 o'clock when we arrived at his house, 

 tired and hungry. Did 1 7iot do justice to the fine supper 

 that was awaiting us? Only a hunter can appreciate it 

 Who has gone through such a day's hunt without a, 

 mouth fid to eat from daylight to nearly midnight. 



Geoiuje P. Alexander. 



WITH THE RUFFED GROUSE. 



OVER Long Mountain was famous ground for birds, and 

 with the lovely weather it was a shame to stay round 

 the house. M. hitched up Buckskin, and off we went for a 

 tramp. Ah ! those lovely Connecticut hills. From the 

 top of one I could see a way over to the ( Jatskills, and 

 long I looked. The country around liere is as well 

 watered as Virginia; and the innumerable streams that 

 rundown into the Housatonic furnish trouting in sum- 

 mer, and at the time I speak of they gave fair shooting a 

 little later on. Over the hills and far away, we pulled 

 up by the Aspetuc, put up the horse, and got out guns 

 and dogs, all ready for the fray. I don't imagine pret- 

 tier woodcock ground could be found than what we 

 entered. Ah! how many there be who can sympathize 

 with me when I vainly try to describe the disappoint- 

 ment felt at getting on to such ground and finding no 

 game. Dogs working beautifully, ground apparently all 

 bored up, you tread as lightly as on a Brussels carpet, 

 finger scarcely touching trigger, no word spoken, ex- 

 pectant, eager, disappointed. So we traversed the ground 

 and never started a bird. 



"You go round this next swale on one side, Captain, 

 I'll take the other." Dash stops in an instant. A cluck, 

 a step, and out jump two woodcock right in front of me. 

 Never touched either one of 'em. However, I marked 

 them down. Down the valley we go. Look out old man. 

 Up goes one my way, and he don't travel far this time. 

 M. picks up the other one. Careful, there may be 

 more. A little further and Dash almost says as he cocks 

 his eye toward me, "Don't miss." Out comes a famous 

 fellow; snap goes the hammer; no cap on. I soon remedy 

 that, and follow him up. There he goes; but this time 

 so does the gun. What more joyful sight than to see 

 your bird tumble head over heeels, clean killed, not mas- 

 sacred. I pick him up and smooth down his russet 

 feathers and let Dash nose him, and on we go. 



So we swung down through the alders; and 1 made 

 some unaccountable misses, and an occasional good shot, 

 until we got out into the open, then we sat dowu and 

 took account of stock. M. is a little ahead: I tell M. not 

 to shoot so much at his dog, and he tells me, "When you 

 hie on yours don't wave your hand all around creation : 

 point to him where you want him to go;" and I believe 

 he is right. Whirr; out flies a plump partridge right 

 under our noses. Oh! Dash, Dash, how could you, and 

 our guns are on the grass by our sides; and we not ready. 

 Oh dear what a mess! We jump up and follow him ixp 

 the hillside; half way up along the mountain runs a wood 

 road; M. goes down that while I with Dash at heel circle 

 round, and keep a bright look out; the dog makes game; 

 and suddenly, with a whirr, out goes the royal bird. I 

 cover him, and pull in an instant, and a puff of feathers 

 shows me he's hit, a snap shot. I follow him up; and at 

 the same moment, off go both barrels of M.'s popgun; 

 and I hear him shouting, and going on like a crazy man. 

 Perhaps it was a rattlesnake; there are some few there 

 still left; more likely a copperhead; still more likely he 

 fired and missed. Nothing of the kind. I overhaul him; 

 and, by Jove, there are three fine partridges! "How's 

 that for high?" says my gleeful companion, and he ex- 

 plains to me, "Two birds dashed out and down the road; 

 I made a double shot; never saw the third fellow at all. 

 Duke went out and brought in one bird, then went back 

 and brought in No. 3, then started off and came in 

 with No. 8, Beats the Jews. What did you shoot, Cap- 

 tain?" I was so much taken up with M.'s lucky streak 

 that I almost forgot about my bird; so I go back and tell 

 my dog to find dead bird. " Careful, sir; close find ; ha, 

 ha; good dog;" and Dash brings him up to me. Later on, 

 with a dog of mine, still more famous than old Duke, 

 from, whom I named him, hunting with my old friend 

 Charley I saw three partridges killed with two shots, but 

 these two occasions are the only ones I have witnessed 

 in many years shooting. Not long afterward, while I was 

 recounting M.'s exploit to one of these "that-reminds-me" 

 fefiows, he said, "1 was up to Mud Pond not long ago; 

 and darn me if I didn't kill five di fferent kinds of game 

 with one shot; sure's your born. I saw a shykepoke and 

 crawled up to him, arid let sliver, and knocked him over, 



and a teeter snipe, and a robin, and a ■ ." I didn't 



wait to hear the rest. That man to this day thinks I 

 don't believe a word he says, and he's right. 



We tramped on, after stowing away our game and 

 made up our minds we had shot away our luck, for 

 though we heard a bird or two get up, we couldn't get 

 sight of one. Back we go to Hill's mills and stow our 

 birds away, and drive off. 



Up on top of that mountain, my guide says, there is a 

 large swamp or table land, and wood roads all around; a 

 mighty likely place for partridges; we'll go up and try it. 

 We stop at a farmhouse and tie; "Come in, boys, and 

 have some cider." We start for the new grounds, and 

 had not been in very long before we heard some one 

 shooting down on the swamp. We push on, and Duke 

 roads a bird, puts him up, and M. fetches him. I break 

 the wing of another, and Dash comes up to an old stone 

 wall, and comes to a point and whimpers, and I feel in a 

 hole in the wall, and get hold of the bird and pull him 

 out, bite his neck and stow him away. There's another 

 gun; I see a partridge come whizzing by and, I thought, 

 dropping down by M., who is some fifty yards away. 

 Presently comes an elderly man down the wood road on 

 a bog trot, with an old double-nosed liver pointer wad- 

 dling along ahead of him, and hails me with "Say, 

 mister, see anything of a partridge round here? " " Yes." 

 " Where is he ?" " In my game bag, I just killed one," 

 " Mine must have come right down here, there's his 

 course." "Well. I'll help you look for him;,*' and we 

 look around, and walk down toward my companion. 

 The old fellow puts the same question to him. "No, I 

 hain't seen no birds: Won't yer old dog find him?" "I 

 don't know." " Well, if he won't, better shoot him. I 

 wouldn't give shucks for a dog that won't retrieve." This 

 summary method don't meet the old man's approval, and 

 he hunts around in vain, muttering "He must have 



dropped right about here." M. says "Come along, 

 Captain, we've r" 1 " 

 for the man's 

 we go, and 



matching his shooting jacket, disappears round a turnin 

 the road. "Here, Captain, put that in your pocket," and 

 M. pulls a noble bird out of his coat pocket. " Left my 

 game bag down in the wag-on." " I was dreadfully afraid 

 the bird would tumble out." " Why that's regular high- 

 way robbery," I reply. " Serves him right, just look 

 here: see what he's shooting these birds with ! ' Bad as a 

 trap!" M. shows me the top of the bird's head, as smooth 

 as a billiard ball ; we pick ou' single B shot. That settles 

 it. I pop the bird in along with the rest. There goes a 

 haw k darting by in pursuit of a bird, and we walk down, 

 keeping both dogs close in. This time old Duke gets in 

 his work, and out rings my friend's horse pistol, and he 

 scores another bird. Look out for the man with one gun. 

 We get down to where the snuff-colored, single B man 

 must have struck in , and I am carrying all the birds, and 

 have as many as I can tote. We agree we have done 

 well, and enough is as good as a feast ; so we call in. our 

 dogs and start for the house. We have a good bunch of 

 game, some eight partridges and half a dozen woodcock. 

 Oar worthy host draw s us another pitcher of cider, and 

 off we rattle for home. 



As I sit here in my den years after and try to dot down 

 some of these old time hunts, I can close my eyes and 

 conjure up swamp and birds, and dogs and gun. For a 

 moment, as it were, I fancy I see their all; and then they 

 fade away into the past, and are " the dream of things 

 that were." Captain Clayton. 



A BEWITCHED GUN. 



WHILE the relative merits of the old muzzleloaders 

 and the new 7 breechloaders are being discussed it 

 may not be out of place to relate a practical joke that is 

 reported as having been perpetrated upon an old-fashioned 

 advocate of the old style guns. The upholder of the old 

 style is an inveterate joker. He spares not the young 

 nor the modest, the aged nor the pious. The joker him- 

 self, however, is neither young, modest nor pious, but 

 he is very superstitious. He has been long in the West and 

 has some of the ideas of the Indian about the supernatu- 

 ral and invisible world. He w r as a stage driver on the wild 

 plains when they were peopled with phantom shapes as 

 the seas are for the superstitious sailor. 



Old Sam, as he is called, is a firm believer in witches 

 and ghosts. He camped wit h P. T. and Harry one night in 

 the midst of an old forest when the firelight flickered in 

 fanciful shapes and shadows danced and chased about. 

 To add to the visions of Sam's unbridled imagination 

 Harry related a thrilling experience with a nocturnal 

 visitor that never identified itself as a thing of flesh and 

 blood. Sam was restless all night. He muttered when 

 half asleep something about shrouds without heads, 

 heads without bodies, and ghosts and witches. It was 

 noticed that he had loaded his gun that night and placed 

 it within reach. 



Morning came and Sam seemed happy that he was still 

 in the world of flesh, and with his old relish for whisky 

 and good things to eat. Nor had he lost his propensity 

 for cruel jokes. He slipped a young and hairless mouse 

 which he had secured by some means into each cup of 

 coffee Harry and P. T. had set aside to cool. The scalded 

 vermin settled to the bottom and were not discovered 

 till the good beverage was drained to the dregs. To the 

 victims of the joke these creatures presented a disgusting 

 appearance, and they were affected even worse than Sam 

 had been by the ghost stories amid the wild scenes on 

 the stilly night. The joker laughed heartily. 



It was now Sam's duty to attend the horses. He was 

 half an hom- away. Harry and P. T. engaged them- 

 selves on Sam's old muzzleloader which he had so care- 

 fully loaded over night. It was their turn to perpetrate 

 a joke. They put in a charge of powder and then a 

 w adding, punk or tinder gathered from one of the ancient 

 forest trees of fir. Another charge of powder and an- 

 other wadding of tinder. They repeated the operation 

 till the gun was nearly full of powder and tinder in 

 alternate layers. When Sam returned the gun was j ust 

 where he had left it as regards position. They were 

 ready to start on a tramp. Harry in handing Sam the 

 gun dropped the stump of a cigar in. tbe muzzle. 



They were hurrying toward tbe lake where the ducks 

 were quacking. Bang! went Sam's gun. Sam turned 

 white, as one will at the accidental discharge of a fire 

 arm. He took it from his shoulder and looked at the cap. 

 Bang it went again. He held it at arm's length and al- 

 most screamed something about both barrels. Then he 

 said, "I guess the old thing's safe now." Bang she went 

 again. "The devil!" said Sam, while his pale face was a 

 panorama of horrors. He held the smoking gun high 

 above his head and called on all the saints for help. 

 Bang went the gun again. It was too much for Sam. 

 "I dreamed the witches had my gun last night," he said, 

 and threw it from him on the ground. Another report 

 rang out from the brush pile in a few T seconds. Sam 

 started for camp on a run. The gun gave its voluntary 

 reports a few times more and Sam still believes it is 

 shooting away on that brush pile. He is afraid of guns 

 now and gets away as fast as possible when he sees one. 

 Boise City, Idaho. ROXEY NEWTON. 



A Nkw Gun Factory. — It is now definitely settled that 

 the much-talked-of gun factory is to be located in North- 

 ampton, Mayor Hill's energy and capital having brought 

 about this desirable result. A corporation has been or- 

 ganized with a capital of $50,000, and Geo. E. Forbes, of 

 North Brookfield, is the president, and W. H. Whitney, 

 inventor of the gun to be manufactured, the treasurer. 

 It is to be known as the Whitney Safety Arms Company. 

 There are at present but f our stockholders in the concern. 

 Mayor Hill being the only Northampton man. The loca- 

 tion of the factory is not yet decided, but W. H. Whitney, 

 the treasurer, was in town yesterday looking up a house, 

 and as soon as possible arrangements will be matured for 

 making the guns on a small scale. — Springfield Republi- 



Where are the Wild Pigeons ?— Two years ago they 

 were near Muscogee, Indian Territory. The only nesting 

 place known at the time was in that vicinity. — Charles 

 HalloCK, 



