March 17, 1887. J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



We stayed at the camp two or three days, but as it 

 rained arid hailed almost incessantly during that time, 

 we did not hunt very much, although we followed a bear 

 trail for a long distance witbout seeing any bear, and B. 

 and myself each had a shot at a deer, but both missed. 



Returning to the ranch, we passed the time in fishing 

 for trout in the river by the house, and in making short 

 hunts in the surrounding woods, and B. succeeded in 

 killing a young buck. 



A few years ago this region was teeming with blacktail 

 deer, elk "and bear, but the game is fast being extermin- 

 ated by market hunters, and through the agency of the 

 United Slates troops stationed in that locality who bunt 

 at any and all times of the year. Tire resident ranchmen 

 and farmers believe in protecting the game, and 1 was 

 told by some men that they had been there for years and 

 had never killed a deer. 



At last our pleasant sojourn was over, and having 

 driven over to Durango we boarded a train and were 

 whirled away to our homes in the East. But we shali 

 always remember the hospitality and generosity of our 

 mountain friends, and the pleasant days of the past. 



Navajo. 



Philadelphia, Pa. 



HUNTING IN THE TRANSVAAL.— II. 



Being extracts from a letter accompanying: some lion skins sent 

 by the writer from South Africa to his sister in Nova Scotia. 



# * * ~"\7"OU have two sorts of lions. The big black- 

 X maned lion and dark-colored lioness — and 

 the smaller sort— light yellow-maned lion and light- 

 colored lioness. The first we killed in low fly country. 

 After a long chase he Avas shot in a hindleg, which made 

 liim stand and growl most ferociously, and allowed us to 

 approach him and give him an express bullet in the ribs, 

 which floored him; then with the muzzle of the gun 

 within a yard or two we put one through his brain, for, 

 however dead they appear to be. a bullet through the head 

 makes it sure. The next we killed was the little one. It 

 was a male and had the audacity to rush one of the Ka- 

 firs, when Robert knocked it over with a shot in the fore- 

 head. At the same time we caught one alive. The next 

 was the largest skin, ablack-maned lion. We were walk- 

 ing along looking for game in fly country and got close to 

 a troop of impallah, which we would not shoot in case we 

 disturbed large game, when they scampered off, and the 

 old lion, who had been wanting one of them, jumped out 

 of the grass and ran away from us. I could have fired, 

 but I had not a good shot. I had missed two that trip by 

 firing through the bush at a long range, and I thought I 

 would follow and probably get a good shot; however, I 

 soon lost him. One of the boys shouted, saying he had 

 gone another way; so I said, "Run on first as you saw 

 Where he had gone." I ran close at his heels. The wretch, 

 without saying a word, jumped to one side, and in two 

 strides I almost stepped on the lion. He gave a roar, and 

 was botmding away when I shot him down through the 

 back, and as he was wriggling and growling I shot him in 

 the head. I had got much closer to him than I had bar- 

 gained for. I looked round for the boys and saw them 

 standing at the foot of trees ready to climb, and the boy 

 that got such a start recovered next day. 



The next skin is that of a light-colored lioness, a fine 

 soft coat. I generally used it as a blanket. When we 

 were wintering the cattle about twenty miles from where 

 we five, the lions came one night and killed a fine ox. 

 In the morning I hung up on a tree part of the bullock 

 and looked for the lion or lions, but I lost then- spoor. 

 The next night they climbed up the tree and scoffed all 

 the beef, left part of a nail sticking hi the bark and killed 

 an ox belonging to a wagoner standing close up against a 

 Kafir kraal. Tom happened to join me the previous day, 

 so we got three or four Kafirs to follow the three distinct 

 spoors. After following four or five miles we got into a 

 gully with some bush, and presently saw one five hun- 

 dred yards off running down the gully, so we galloped 

 down and cut him off from getting away, then we saw 

 one up the gully and cut him off and one of our dogs 

 started barking in a bush close to Tom. He gallops to the 

 bush and sees a big lion has cleared from it, but he was a 

 hundred yards off when sighted, and just as he is pulling 

 the trigger another lion at his elbow lets a roar, but for- 

 tunately does not pounce on him. This was in a little thick 

 clump of bush on the bank of the gully, the gully was 

 nice and open, about eight feet deep with* gentle sloping 

 banks. Tom couldn't see the breast to get a shot, so 

 walked backward. I heard Tom's shot and the brute 

 growling, so galloped down and left the horse behind a 

 bush, and being on the opposite side of the gully I thought 

 by keeping quiet she would break from Tom and come 

 my way, I got into the gully for a fine open shot. Tom, 

 not knowing that I had come, was calling me, so I had to 

 answer. I no sooner answered than out she came, mak- 

 ing enough noise and showing her pretty teeth. I fired, 

 but was too high and she drew back into the bush. Next 

 time I got her on the shoulder before she got out of the 

 bush, which settled her. You will see the first shot was 

 too high as it just cut the skin for two inches on the head 

 and only grazed the skull — her head and nose being level 

 I ought to have fired into the open mouth. She was with 

 young, having three very pretty unborn male cubs, a 

 bucketful of fat and about seventy pounds of beef not 

 chewed. 



The next skin is that of the dark-colored lioness, she 

 paid us a visit where we generally live about twenty-five 

 miles from Spitzkop. When the cattle were brought up 

 at Lundown one of the little herd boys said a beast had 

 caught one of the cows. I said, "Why didn't you spear 

 it?" He replied that the other little boy said no, it would 

 kill him. She was a big Dutch cow, so badly torn that 

 we had to kill her. The oxen and bulls had driven the 

 beast off, so I made sure that it would be back before 

 morning. The cattle are not kraalecl at night, they stand, 

 ah round the wagon ; I was living in a wagon at that time. 

 About 2 o'clock in the morning I heard a rumpus and ran 

 out with the lantern: the oxen clearly showed me where 

 he had gone, into a little bush 2yds. square about 60yds. 

 away, so I left him till daylight, not knowmg what he 

 had got. In the morning 1 was looking at the spoor as it 

 had run through the cattle, when one of the Kafirs with 

 the dogs followed the spoor to the little bush, and up 

 jumped a lioness and ran down into a gully full of reeds 

 and bush. It would have given a fine shot as it had let 

 the dogs get very close, but I never dreamed that it would 

 sleep there. It had taken a calf in the night and run right 

 through the troop without putting it down. I got the 



rifle and dogs and three little urchins and ran on the 

 Spoor. The dogs soon bailed it up in a clump of bush, 

 but it always broke from the opposite side as soon as I 

 got up, and away to another bush and backed in, and did 

 this several times. Last of all they bailed it up in some 

 scrub 4ft. high, I got up close enough and waited until 

 she would show herself; all I could see was the scrub 

 moving as she lashed her tail from side to side. Presently 

 she walked forward a couple of steps where the scrub 

 was shorter and I shot her m the shoulder; she dropped 

 out of sight and I gave her a couple of minutes to die 

 before going forward. Just as I was within a few feet of 

 her, going very cautiously, one of the little urchins who 

 waited from where I shot, called out that she was stand- 

 ing up. As I was in long scrub I had to get out again 

 pretty sharp: but then he said it w^as only one of the dogs, 

 so I got forward again and touched her; she moved, so I 

 put a shot in her brain 



I had four dogs at the start, but only three were in at 

 the death, and one of them with a gash from the shoulder 

 down the forearm cut witli a claw. I followed the spoor 

 and found the other one torn past recovery — the lioness 

 had caught it by the face with its paw, torn part of its 

 mouth off and cut it badly about the face and put four 

 fangs into neck and shoulders. As she had a litter of 

 young pups, I had her carried home and stitched her 

 carefully up, but she died in the night. Although young 

 common dogs they were very game; you will see their 

 teeth marks on the skin at root of tail. Not one in a hun- 

 dred will go in to a live lion, and very few to a dead one. 



A couple of months after that, an old lion caught a 

 heifer in the daytime, and the oxen drove it off; but as I 

 was not there I didn't hear of it until next day. The 

 wagon driver had put the dog on the spoor and very 

 soon bailed it up in the bush, but although he had a good 

 rifle he wouldn't go and fire at it; next day I hunted all 

 about, but no luck. However, in about four days ho re- 

 turned in the night and killed a fine cow within four 

 yards of the wagon. All the dogs happened to be shut 

 up in the stable excepting one, and I heard that one 

 barking viciously for an hour or more, but it being noth- 

 ing unusual I didn't get up. At last the driver came and 

 said a cow was lying dead; we found her two hindquar- 

 ters eaten, I set a spring gun baited with beef, but he 

 had had his fill and didn't return. I heard the gun go off 

 and expected to find him lying dead, but it happened to 

 be only a big cowardly wolf, the skin of which you have. 

 We found that he had one of my fowls inside. 



Now for the tiger skins. The one sent to Tom's young 

 lady he killed hi the low country. He saw a troop of im- 

 pallah about forty yards off and told one of his Kafirs to 

 try a shot. The boy fired and missed as usual, when up 

 lumped the tiger and ran off, or rather bounded off. Tom 

 bowled him over with a bullet through the shoulder. 

 They have the same number of lives as a cat, and although 

 the bullet could not have been in a better spot, he was 

 not dead, but crouched down as if going to spring. Tliey 

 are most vicious, dangerous brutes. Tom finished him 

 with a shot through the head. You remember hearing of 

 poor Capt. Bowlby being killed by a tiger here; it was 

 wounded and he missed it as it charged him. He died in 

 three days, more from the force with which it struck him 

 than from wounds, although both wrists were chewed to 

 a jelly and he had severe scalp wounds. A tiger made a 

 terrible mess of one of our boys; it was enough to kill 

 any white man. but he got all right again. His head 

 looked as if it had been used for some days by a butcher 

 as a chopping block. 



The skin sent to James I killed a couple of days before 

 Tom got his. I was passing within half a mile of some 

 immense boulders on the bank of a dry creek, and said 

 to my three youths, "Come and see if there are no lion 

 cubs*this year." It used to be a favorite spot for them. 

 When we got within four hundred yards we saw two cubs 

 playing on the top of the boulders. (The boulders as big 

 as a house.) We arranged to wait on the opposite bank 

 of the creek and shoot one of the cubs. This would make 

 a row and wake up the mother, which was sure to be 

 within hearing, we intended to shoot her and then go 

 and catch the cubs, one. two, or may be three. Well, we 

 waited patiently for some little time, and out comes one 

 and then another. I shot one on the top of a stone. It 

 fell down, growling, out of sight; the other ran away. I 

 fired and missed it. We waited very patiently for the 

 old one, but there was no appearance, and then we 

 crossed. Keeping a good lookout, we came upon the 

 blood spoor going in below a rock. We procured long 

 sticks and tried to feel for the cub; but still there were 

 no signs. I offered a reward to any boy who would 

 crawl in and pull it out, urging that it must de dead and 

 there could be no live ones," as cubs are always growling; 

 but not one of them was game enough to draw the 

 badger, so we go away around to the back of the stone. 

 Sentries were placed all the time so that there will be no 

 surprise from the bush. We dug away the sand and 

 stones and made a little hole, and to our surprise there 

 moved past the little hole the eye and side face of a tiger, 

 so it; was just as well that the 'proffered reward had not 

 been accepted, or there would have been a little Kafir 

 boy the less in Africa. I fired in at the hole, which made 

 him growl and show his head, and then he was finished 

 with a shot over tho eye. The entrance enlarged enough, 

 and we dragged out a fine male as fat as a pig. From 

 not seeing them distinctly at first, we thought they were 

 lion cubs. First shot high up on the ribs and broke back 

 bone ; second shot in at the little hole only took a piece of 

 skin off the back. 



Your tiger skin we got in fly country this winter. Tom 

 and Beck and I were shooting. Tom came in one after- 

 noon—had seen a young giraffe which had just been 

 killed by a lion, so we arranged to go next morning at 

 cock crow, when we would probably find him feeding on 

 it. We got within 50 yards and saw that it was gone- 

 Three boys left us and went into the creek and Beck ac- 

 companied them. We followed the drag spoor for about 

 40 yards, and suddenly saw a big tiger disappear over the 

 bank. I rushed to the bank after giving him time to 

 cross, which he didn't; and I heard a growl on my right. 

 Here was a Kafir on his back, with a face of terror which 

 I couldn't describe. He had almost trodden on the tiger 

 as he jumped down the bank, and it gave the tiger such 

 a scare that it didn't collar the Kafir. Tom and I both 

 fired and bi-oke a hindleg when he stood, and we fired 

 again instantaneously and both bullets went through his 

 head. We now looked for the giraffe and found it twenty 

 feet from the ground, laid nicely over the branch of a 

 tree. What remained of the giraff e two men might have 



lifted with difficulty. The strength of these animals is 

 something wonderful. 



The skin in bad order is of no use, being only that of a 

 wild dog. We caught 14 young ones this year and kept 

 two. They are tame enough no-w . I have also two wild 

 pigs. I had a beautiful little red deer which would fol- 

 low me about; but one of the dogs killed it. Robert has 

 two baboons, a stork four feot high and a beautiful tiger 

 half grown. W. S. 



SHOOTING WITHOUT A DOG. 



SOMETIMES, when after a long tramp I return 

 empty-handed, tired and hungry, friends will laugh 

 and ask all kinds of silly questions; and when I think of 

 all the bad shots and how many times that same old 

 partridge fooled me, I try to make up my mind that I 

 will stay home the next time. But long before the next 

 holiday appears, thoughts of the shooting grounds come 

 up in memory. There is one place near the old back 

 lane, down by the old apple trees, where I can flush a 

 partridge nearly every visit, and in my mind I try to give 

 a good reason why I should not trip her up the next time. 

 Once last fall I was creeping along an old stone wall, care- 

 fully, slowly to the meeting of two walls, where a part- 

 ridge was wont to flush every time; but this time there 

 was no whining of wings, nor tearing gun to cheek as 

 the bird went flashing through the woods. I found instead 

 some empty shells— shells of a different size from those of 

 my own gun — my partridge was gone. Sometimes there 

 comes a day that makes up for these failures and disap- 

 pointments, and so it happened one fine December day. 



During the night a few inches of snow ha.d fallen, and 

 soon after sunrise found me in an old pasture, amid 

 patches of juniper, a tangle of blueberries and huckle- 

 berries, and a few stunted pines in the hollow. It was 

 not long before I noted signs. Here a fox has been along, 

 and how careful he was not to go through tliis tangle; he 

 follows the old cowpath. Here is the track of a partridge, 

 clear cut and crisp. Rabbit tracks criss-cross every way. 

 But what are these tracks? They are too small for par- 

 tridge, and there must be a dozen of them. It flashes 

 across my mind — they must be quail, and I have never 

 killed a quail. My grip tightens on my gun; carefully I 

 look ahead; why, here they crawled through tliis hole in 

 the fence; on top is a strand of barbed wire; bless wire 

 fences anyhow; over we go. They have been feeding 

 under these oaks; everything is torn up. I can look 

 ahead quite a way now; right ahead is a sharp corner at 

 the junction of two stone walls, beyond this an old 

 turnip patch. How warm the December sun is! They 

 may be bebind that big stump sunning— no, a few more 

 steps; the woods are open enough; queer I can't see them. 

 All of a sudden — whirr, whirrr, whirrrrrr. There they 

 go across the turnip patch, over into the pasture. 



It is getting pretty warm by this time, and I wish I 

 might fly over that wire fence, too. I think they went 

 down near that cluster of pines. Scon I am only a short 

 distance from them, hold my gun at ready, finger on the 

 trigger, my eyes taking in everything; when, from almost 

 at my feet, the covey bursts with a great racket; like 

 sparks they disappear over the stunted pines; one flies 

 straight ahead for the oaks, and just as he clears the 

 fence I fire. At the report down he comes. There he is 

 only winged; can barely reach him. I am stuck in tho 

 barbed wire; a few inches more, and — r-r-rip goes my 

 coat — who cares? In my haste do not reload the dis- 

 charged barrel of my gun, and pay for my hurry as I 

 deserve, for only a few steps from where I fired rises an - 

 other bird; bang— a clear miss— good-bye; and just as I 

 remove my gun from the shoulder, whirr goes another to 

 my right. 



It seems to me to take all too Ions,- to load a muzzle- 

 loader. After reloading, instead of going in the direction 

 of where I marked down the first bird, I managed to 

 come around on the edge of the bush. Careful now. A 

 few steps more. He must be in the hollow. There he 

 rises. I am proud of this shot, for the bird was nearly 

 80yds. before I pulled, and at the report he plunged head- 

 long among the bushes, dead as a nail. I beat the bushes 

 for a long while now, but cannot flush another bird. 

 Hark! what is that? Not the clear, bold call Bob 

 White. How sad it sounds, only one note at a time; 

 White, White, White. They are calling to each other. 

 Is my conscience reproaching me? Well, if it is, I am 

 sneaking in the direction of the call all the same. The 

 sound comes from near where I shot first, and just before 

 I get there, on a little knoll, the oovey rises with a great 

 whirr. Both barrels are sent right into the flying covey, 

 but none stay with me. No amount of beating around 

 will flush them again, so I make a bee line for that house 

 on the ridge; here lives a friend of mine. I must show 

 him my game, of course; he admires my trophies, and 

 tells me there is another covey back in his swamp, and 

 regrets that he cannot go with me. The swamp, I find, 

 is all cut up with tracks of rabbits, skunks and partridges, 

 but I flush only one quail; this one, however, gives me 

 even more pleasure than the others, for it flushed behind 

 me. I whirl around and shoot. Where is he? Am sure 

 he went no further. I search for a long time; at last go 

 back to where I shot, and take a beeline to where he dis- 

 appeared, look into every bush and hole, take a fresh 

 start several times, and am just on the point of giving up 

 when I see him squatting almost at my feet. He is only 

 winged and it is as well that I find him. 



The next day I flush the same covey again near the 

 first spot, but can put up only a single bird, which is 

 bagged in good style. It must be pleasure, indeed, to 

 own a well-trained dog. O. F. N. 



Lawrence, Mass. 



Michigan Game Warden Bill.— Grand Rapids, Mich., 

 March 12. — Editor Forest and Stream: The Michigan 

 game and fish warden bill, introduced in the House of 

 Representatives by Hon. A. L. Lakey, of Kalamazoo, and 

 which passed that body some weeks ago, was passed by 

 the Senate yesterday, and given "immediate effect," so 

 that it now only awaits the approval of the Governor to 

 become a law. The game and fish protectionists of Mich- 

 igan are under great obligations to the Committee on 

 Judiciary of the Senate, to whom the bill was referred, 

 for their promptness in reporting it favorably and urging 

 its immediate passage. The Michigan Sportsmen's Asso- 

 ciation have been laboring for this consummation for the 

 last twelve years. They now feel that their efforts have 

 been indorsed by the people of the commonwealth through 

 their Senators and Representatives, and congratulate all 

 good citizens.— E. S. Holmes. 



