July 14, 1887. J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



533 



brought hiui tip to the game, which was soon drawn and 

 quartered and packed. 



Then the return march for camp commenced. It was 

 getting late in the afternoon and the storm increased 

 rapidly and soon became a regular blizzard, rendering 

 our return a very hard piece of work: but by keeping 

 careful note of 'landmarks it was finally accomplished. 

 That night, wet and worn out, the wind howling with- 

 out, our tent presented a dispirited appearance, and we 

 finally unanimously voted the war a failure, and the 

 mandate was uttered to break camp the following morn- 

 ing and start back. 



Our visitors had gone two days before; they did not 

 appreciate nature's moods and left for either milder 

 climes or more shelter. On the following morning a 

 negative was obtained of our game, and immediately 

 after down came the tent; bedding, mess-box and all our 

 traps were bundled into the wagon with the seven deer 

 and one elk, and the procession was soon moving down 

 the mountain to Mr. Scrivner's ranch, where we stopped 

 that afternoon and all night. Eiley and I were in the 

 saddle at 7 A. M. the next day and headed for home, 

 leaving the wagon to come in two days by the road. "We 

 cut straight across regardless of trails, scrambling down 

 rocky hills and up again, through canons and across sage- 

 covered, bleak and barren hills. We ran into a band of 

 antelope, but we were not hunting and bad no way of 

 carrying meat if we did kill it, so they scurried away un- 

 harmed. Eiley looked after them longingly, and I think 

 really regretted missing such a good chance for shooting 

 nearly as much as our hard and comparatively fruitless 

 week's work. 



At about 10 A. M. Eiley left me to call on a ranchman 

 living some miles out of our way, and did not get in till 

 the following day. I pushed on and ran into a thick 

 snow storm on Quaking Asp Mountain that delayed me 

 somewhat in finding the road; and finally dismounted at 

 home in time for a 5 o'clock dinner after a ride of some- 

 thing over fifty miles. Late the following evening the 

 wagon arrived, and so ended the second trip of the Gun 

 Club, chiefly signalized by a plethora of hard work and a 

 paucity of result. L. D. G. 



Wyoming. 



IN THE CHEROKEE STRIP.-1V. 



WHEN Jack went up the river after his deer he took 

 with him one shepherd dog, a greyhound and the 

 staghound. As he was returning with the load of wood, 

 these three dogs struck a trail in the grass near the river, 

 and began to run it. (It is a mista ke to think greyhounds 

 will not run a trail. They often do, even the best hunt- 

 ing greyhounds. There was not a greyhound on the 

 ranch which would not run scent, and the staghound was 

 an excellent trailer.) 



The dogs followed on down the bank, and presently 

 the yelp of the shepherd attracted Jack's attention to an 

 exciting race which was going on out on a sand bar, in 

 plain sight. A long, slim, black creature was about a 

 hundred yards ahead of the dogs, and it kept there, too. 

 Jack knew it was an otter. The dogs chased it off 

 the bar into a swamp, and here the creature played 

 with them, now in, now out o: the water, until it 

 discouraged them, and finally took refuge in a big 

 pool of water, some fifty yards long and eight or ten feet 

 deep, which formed the 'home of all the otters in that 

 region during very cold weather. 



This pool was nothing less than a series of mighty 

 springs, and never froze in any weather. Jack had often 

 seen otters here, but the wary' creatures never gave him 

 a chance for a shot. He knew they were in here now, 

 and determined to make a campaign against them in the 

 morning. 



In the morning, therefore, Jack waited till the sun 

 came up and shone warmly, as fortunately it did on this, 

 the third day of our stay; then, without saying anything 

 to anybody, he slipped up along the river, taking his own 

 particular hunting dog, a bobtailed shepherd, and a hound 

 or two. Arrived near the pool he kept the dogs back — 

 an easy matter when wished — and crawling up a little 

 sand ridge, peered through a net of wdd grapevines. He 

 was not ten yards from the pool, and there, right below 

 him, were some otters — not one or two, but eight full- 

 grown otters — lying on the edge of the ice, basking in the 

 sun, and each with its nose up, sniffing at a danger they 

 all knew was near. You may know Jack was an accom- 

 plished still-hunter. He tells the rest of the story thus: 



"I saw one ole feller a little ways back from the water 

 with his head right to me, and, says I, ole feller, I'll jest 

 shoot your eye out f er you; so I drawed down fine on him 

 an' let her go. Every otter but that'n jest give a flip an' 

 was gone like lightnin', an' all the dogs jumped into the 

 water after 'em. But I shore got Mr. Otter, an 1 I hit him 

 right plum in the eye, too." 



The game-rack began to assume variety. An otter 

 was something we had never dreamed of seeing. 



We at once set out a couple of steel traps near the pool, 

 but though we one morning found a mangled toe in one 

 trap, where an otter had pulled the trap out of the shallow 

 water — not deep enough to drown him — and gnawed off 

 his own foot, we did not capture one; and the warm 

 weather coming on they scattered from the pool and we 

 saw no more of them. 



The weather was now warm enough for a deer hunt 

 with the dogs, and accordingly we started out for the 

 open country — five of us in all — with nine of the best 

 greyhounds, the staghound and a sprinkling of shepherd 

 dogs. Mr. Allison took Jim and Terry, leaving Mike at 

 home. The old fellow begged to go, but he was too lame. 

 Jim bmped badly. Terry seemed in good form. The 

 puppies were all. in high spirits. These puppies are all 

 out of Mr. D. E. Streeter's big fawn dog Prince, a noted 

 game dog, and a very large and powerful one. The pup- 

 pies are large, strong and gritty; one of the litter, Joe, 

 was larger than any of Mr. Allison's dogs, though not a 

 year old. He will be a grand dog, and will crowd his 

 sire hard as a game killer. The big greyhounds are the 

 sort for ranch use, such as can kill coyotes and wolves, 

 or pull down a deer. The little Eastern rabbit dogs, 

 though very fine and very swift, would be worthless on a 

 hunt like this. 



Striking an interminable little cowboy trot; — for the 

 regular gait of the cowboy is not a gallop, but a short, 

 choppy little trot, kept up if need be all day long — we 

 rode out across the sand hills, and emerging from the 



imbered country, struck into the open section known as 



he "flats," consisting of long draws or sloughs, low 



grass-covered hills, and an occasional stretch of level land, 

 covered closely with buffalo grass. 



We rode for an hour or two across this country with- 

 out sighting a deer, though we saw plenty of fresh signs. 

 At length we struck the trail of five deer while riding 

 across our own back trail, and as we knew they had 

 crossed less than half an hour before, we determined to 

 follow them. Jack and Bed rode rapidly along, follow- 

 ing the trail, which our slower eyes often lost altogether, 

 until at length we came down into a little slough, where 

 the ground was moister. Here the dogs all began to trail 

 very rapidly, and strung out at once in a long line, the 

 staghound far in the lead, with head up and running fast. 

 The only thing that staghound could do was to trail a 

 deer, and he was good at that. Next to him ran the blue 

 pup — a very good one — and then the others, all perfectly 

 silent. The foxhounds, of course, were not taken along 

 on this hunt. The pace of the hounds increased we 

 urged our horses after at full run. The pack was actually 

 running away from us, with not a deer in sight anywhere! 

 We topped a little hill. The dogs were stretching across 

 a flat at full speed. "There they go!" called some one. 

 And sure enough, there were five white good-bye signals 

 hopping, bobbing and drifting along, fully half a mile 

 ahead of the hounds. 



It takes a, good hound to catch a deer. No hound can 

 do it every time, nor can any two or three, or any pack 

 do it every time, even when the start is only two three 

 hundred yards, and even when the ground is not covered 

 with timber. A deer knows a thing or two, and let the 

 hounds once lose sight of him behind a hill or in the tall 

 grass and he will gain so much by the instant the hounds 

 lose that he will get clear off before the dogs can be 

 sighted again. There was little hope in this case, that 

 with so poor a start and in so rough a country the dogs 

 could come up with the game; but as they were off we 

 followed, Mr. Allison and E;d taking the line of the 

 dogs, while Eicker, Jack and I held off to the right in 

 hopes of seeing a part of the chase — or rather one of the 

 chases— for the bunch had divided and we could see one 

 deer by itself, evidently followed by one or more dogs. 



There are all sorts of sport. There are men who shoot 

 mud pigeons and enjoy it. To catch a sunfish is sport : 

 to kill a cottontail is sport. I have shot rats with a .22 

 rifle and enjoyed the fun. To stop a partridge, to make 

 a double on mallards, to break a Canada goose all up, to 

 stalk a deer, to lull a buffalo, to kill a bear — all this is 

 sport, and each seems better at the time than anything 

 else could, be. But it hasn't the bigness, it hasn't the 

 intensity, it hasn't the enduring power of the stern ex- 

 citement known in the wild brush across the prairie, 

 after the swift runners with a swift runner under you, 

 with your eyes on ahead, and the rhythmic whirr of the 

 wind singing in your ears in unison with the lift and fall 

 of your horse's shoulders. It is steeple chasing with a 

 deer hunt thrown in. What matter if the ground be full 

 of soft spots and gopher holes — there are so many gopher 

 holes between you and the chase. So long as your horse 

 is up, it is all right. Coursing jack rabbits is fine sport ; 

 coursing deer is a grand sport—a sport fit for kings and 

 princes, and one which few kings or princes or proved 

 sportsmen have a chance to enjoy. In it the young hunter 

 grows reckless, the old hunter forgets his experiences, 

 and both unite in a perfect disregard of all earth outside 

 the little strip ahead. The very horses love it. You 

 couldn't hold old John after the hounds had started. 

 Even our town horses showed themselves game, and 

 after that first run were always eager for the next. 



But we were distanced; the start had been too much 

 for us. As if by magic both chases swept away, and the 

 sandy hills stood up around us, barren and silent. Dis- 

 mounting, we loosened the cinches, allowed our horses to 

 breathe a bit, and then walked slowly on. We had no 

 idea which way our other two companions had gone, but 

 headed in toward camp, after a time striking and follow- 

 ing the trail of a deer which we supposed was the one we 

 had seen run to the right. 



"Hello! Here's the dog's trail, too!" called out Jack. 

 And there we could see them both, now closely parallel, 

 now blending together. The leaps of both animals were 

 astonishing. "He's shore been crowdin' her," said Jack. 



Presently we met a hound coming along the back trail. 

 It was Terry, and he had evidently had a hard run. We 

 tried to induce him to follow us down the trail, but he 

 had had enough of it, and presently started off on his 

 own hook to find the other dogs. 



Terry had run this deer, which we took to be a doe, 

 alone; and what he did with her we never could find out. 

 He was not bloody, and we did not think he had killed 

 his game. Yet as' far as we could follow the trail there 

 were his tracks right in those of the doe; and we followed 

 the trail much further than it seemed possible for him to 

 go and return in the time he was absent. We lost the 

 trail on some hard ground. While we were searching for 

 it we jumped a doe not three hundred yards from us; but 

 we thought it hardly possible that this was the same deer, 

 as the dog appeared to have been too close to allow her to 

 lie down in the high grass and let him run on by. We 

 left this unsolved mystery and started for camp. As we 

 neared the gate in the wire fence of the 2 1 pasture, we 

 heard a shot faint in the distance, and saw the forms of 

 our two companions dimly outlined on the crest of a hill, 

 far to the east. We knsw the shot was the signal for 

 calling in the dogs, and rode on in, knowing that the 

 hunt was over, though ignorant of what success our 

 friends had had. 



At supper that night it transpired that the day had been 

 a blank one, so far as the deer were concerned. Mr. Alli- 

 son and Eed had followed the main body of the hounds 

 after their bunch of deer and had ridden hard for over 

 two miles, the dogs staying wonderfully for puppies; but 

 their f ate had been the same as ours — the deer had shaken 

 off their pursuers and escaped among the rough and 

 broken sandhills of the T5 range. We told Mr. Allison 

 he ought to recant a little about the infallibility of his 

 hounds. Of course, he explained just how it was. 



Another sudden change of weather now occurred, and 

 after supper it came on to rain. By night it was raining 

 and sleeting in an impartial sort of way, and the darkness 

 soon became so thick you could cut off a piece and chew 

 it. We got restless sitting about the camp, although by 

 rights our ride of nearly thirty miles ought to have satis- 

 fied us for one day. Some one said something about its 

 being a good night for coons to run, and some one else 

 issued a challenge for a hunt ; so — though it seemed to 

 me, and perhaps to others, that any sane coon would hunt 

 the very longest and deepest hole he could find on that 



■particular kind of a night — we threw on our "slickers," 

 oosed the two foxhounds, and calling up thirty or forty- 

 other dogs which were lying around loose, started for the 

 marsh lying near the otter pool. 



We splashed along at the foot of the river bank, now 

 in, now out of the countless little spring branches which 

 run out of the bluff, and getting wetter and quieter every 

 minute. The big pool looked mighty black and lonesome 

 and the trees overhead creaked their icy limbs dismally. 

 The foxhounds nosed about industriously, the young dog- 

 Drum showing his great disposition to "rustle" all over 

 the country. Drum seemed always to think that when 

 we put him to hunting something had to be found. We 

 never once had long to wait for his call after we put him 

 in. He was an obliging little fellow. Indeed, I suspect 

 that sometimes just to accommodate us he used to "let 

 on" a little, when he hadn't any trail at all to speak of. 

 If the theory about the sanity of the raccoon race on such 

 a night be true, then I shouldn't wonder if Drum lied a 

 little, just to keep our spirits up. He gave a few little 

 preliminary whines and then away he went in the dark, 

 singing "wow wow woo-oo-oow." He fooled us, but he 

 didn't fool old Buck. The latter would not open and 

 would not run, but said plainly: 



"That young pup is only joking about that. He hasn't 

 got any trail. Come on, let's go home." 



We splashed and waded and crashed along for awhile, 

 and then as Drum came back wagging his tail and look- 

 ing up at us with a semi-wink in the corner of his p ye we 

 took Buck's advice and went home. E. Hough. 



In No. 2 of the "Cherokee Strip" articles, for "From 

 Viking dogs down" read "Viking days down." Please 

 correct. Do you want some cowboy to kill me? — E. 

 Hough. 



NEW HAMPSHIRE GAME INTERESTS. 



IN their annual report the New Hampshire Fish and 

 Game Commissioners recommend the adoption of an 

 amendment to the game law so that the possession of 

 snared grouse or quail shall he illegal. Of the public 

 interest in game protection they say: 



"The law passed by the Legislature in 1885 prohibiting 

 the exportation of game birds out of the State has worked 

 well and done a great deal of good. It has put an end 

 to much of the illegal snaring of the ruffed grouse or 

 partridge, and has been the means of keeping our local 

 markets well supplied with this excellent bird. The only 

 tiring now needed to entirely put an end to snaring is an 

 amendment to the law making it illegal to have snared 

 birds in possession. 



"The good that has been accomplished by the enforce- 

 ment of the game laws is shown by the rapid increase of 

 deer in the northern and central portions of the State. 

 And during the past summer they have been frequently 

 ssen in Plymouth, Euniney, Ashland and many other 

 towns where none have been seen before for many years. 

 If the parties who kill deer during the deep snows of 

 winter would only let them alone for a few years they 

 would become numerous enough to afford fine sport in the 

 fall and early winter. 



"Hon. Luther Hayes, of Milton, who was appointed 

 Commissioner in 1876 and served in that carjacity for the 

 past ten years, has done an efficient and successful work 

 for the State. His successor is the Hon. John H. Kim- 

 ball, of Marlborough, appointed August, 1886. 



"There is a marked interest throughout the State for a 

 more efficient enforcement of the fish and game laws. 

 A circular was issued and sent to all of the town clerks 

 in the State, early in March, calling their attention to the 

 law, and requesting the election of fish and game ward- 

 ens from their towns. The Commissioners are highly 

 gratified at the result. More than 325 fish and game 

 wardens have been elected and qualified, and have been 

 furnished with the laws relating thereto. Scattered as 

 they are all tLrough the State, they will be of great ad- 

 vantage in the enforcement of the laws and protection of 

 fish and game." 



MR. PARKER'S DEER. 



PUTNAM. Conn., July 11.— Editor Forest and Stream: 

 The old adage that "fair play is a jewel" and that 

 there are always two sides to a question you are doubtless 

 well aware of, and it certainly is but "fair play" on your 

 part to publish the facts concerning the charges contained 

 in your issue of the 7th inst. 



I confess that to a certain extent I am to blame in 

 writing the article which you copied from a Connecticut 

 paper, and which you have taken for granted as being 

 bona fide, but I think you wfll acknowledge the injustice 

 of your denunciations, when you are made aware that 

 the "deer story" was one of those visionary "that reminds 

 me" stories, so often rehearsed around the camp-fire, and 

 to relate which in my letter was too great a temptation 

 to be resisted. 



The paper it was written for was not a sportsman's 

 journal and the letters published in it were written solely 

 to pass away the time, as thousands of others are, and 

 were well spiced- with imaginary incidents which never 

 transpired. 



I would simply say, not to take up too much of your 

 space, providing you see fit to use this, that my guide 

 and self were there; the deer were there; but there 

 was no rifle nor any sort of a firearm to our knowl- 

 edge -within five miles of the lake where we were, and 

 even if there had been no amount of so-called glory 

 would have tempted me to break the law of the State of 

 New York. You are perfectly right in your abhorrence 

 of Juno deer shooting, but do not hurl all the vengeance 

 of a wrathful Jupiter on our devoted head until you know 

 both sides of the story. 



You can take my word for this statement or not, just 

 as you choose, as I am under no obligations to accept, or 

 ever^ask for, clemency from either man or newspaper; 

 but as a law-abiding citizen, and a member, although 

 perchance an unworthy one, of the noble profession of 

 sportsmen, I ask the withdrawal of your charges, as they 

 are founded but on the ideas of a woodland romance, and 

 existed only in the idle scribbling of a vacation hour. 



A. M. Parker. 



New England Game Laws are summarized on a card 

 for gratuitous distribution by Messrs. Wm. B. Shaefer & 

 Son, of 61 Elm street, Boston. 



