Dec. 6, 1888,] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



38 8 



when he said that he had never hit anything that 

 he shot at, he told the exact truth. He came into 

 camp once with the story of a medicine deer he had seen, I 

 a blacktail at which he had fired five times at about 

 thirty steps without making it do any tiling but jump up 

 in the air. After the fifth shot it shook its head at him 

 and walked slowly off over the hill, and he came to camp 

 greatly impressed, and said that it was his medicine, and 

 that was the reason he could not hit it. But the boys 

 who knew how he shot all laughed at him. He never hit 

 anything.' 1 ' 



"Isn't that thoroughly Indian," said Yo, "his not being 

 willing to take a, 'dare.* They are just like children, as 

 I have said, 1 suppose, five thousand times. You ought to 

 have seen," he continued, addressing the Rhymer, "how 

 the Chief turned Pani Puk'koats from a troublesome 

 Indian into a good oue. He needed just one lesson." 



"Tell us about it." 



"When lie was first enlisted Pani Puk'koats, who was 

 only a boy, was in Fred Matthews's company, and was 

 constantly making trouble. Why, one time he even tried 

 to fight with Fred, and was generally worthless. The 

 next year the Chief had him transferred to his com- 

 pany to see if he could do anything with him. After the 

 men had had their arms and horses issued to them, they 

 were to lie drilled for a few days until they had all got a 

 general idea of then duties, and it was on the occasion of 

 their first drill that Pani Puk'koats learned his lesson. 



"The men wore drawn up in line, holding their horses by 

 the bridles, and the Chief sat on his horse in front of the 

 line and explained to them that they should count off 

 one, two, three, four: one, two, three, four, and so on, 

 and that when the order 'Prepare to mount' was given, 

 oach man who was number four should lead out his 

 horse in front of the line, so as to make room, and then 

 after they were mounted should fall back into his place 

 in the line. Having made this plain to them, he had 

 them count off, and it happened that Pani Puk'koats 

 was a number four. At the order 'Prepare to mount,' 

 all the other men who had counted four led their horses 

 out in front of the line, but Pani Puk'koats retained his 

 place without moving. The Chief said to him: 



" 'The number fours will lead out their horses. You 

 are number four and you want to lead your horse out in 

 front of the line as I ordered.' 



" 'Oh,' said Pani Puk'koats, 'I can get on my horse 

 very well here.' 



"The Chief had a little ordinary Indian quirt in his hand 

 and his spurs on, and when Pani Puk'koats said this, he 

 answered him never a word, but sinking his spurs into his 

 horse he rode right at the Indian. His horse jumped so 

 quickly and the line was so close that Pani Puk'koats had 

 no time nor room to get out of the way. The Chief's horse 

 ran against him, knocked him down and went over him. 

 I do not know whether it stepped on him or not. The Chief 

 then rode round in front of the line and by that time Pani 

 Puk'koats had picked himself up and was again standing 

 by his horse, looking rather foolish and kind o' feeling of 

 himself to see if he was all there, while some of the 

 younger Indians Avere giggling at him. The Chief then 

 said to him in exactly the same quiet tone he had used 

 before : 



" 'The number fours will lead out their horses. You 

 are number four and you want to lead your horse out in 

 front of the line as I ordered," 



"This time Pani Puk'koats said nothing, but led his 

 horse out with a prompt and cheerful step, and from 

 that time on there was never any trouble with him. He 

 was one of the best and most willing Indians in the 

 whole command. Isn't that a fair statement of the oc- 

 currence, Chief?" 



"That's just about the way it happened, Old Man." 



"This fellow must have been a character," said the 

 Rhymer. 



"He was, and we had lots of others that made a heap 

 of fun for us. But I guess it's time to turn in." 



"Yes, so it is. Don't put any more wood on the fire, 

 Brocky. If s after 8 o'clock." 



A little later the lodge was dark, and the only sound 

 heard was the heavy breathing of the sleepers. Yo. 



THE MAZEPPA HITCH, 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I want to ask you a question, and I hope you'll forgive 

 me if 1 spin it out pretty long, for it's mighty hard for an 

 old fellow like me who don't handle a pen once a year to 

 express himself so that he will be understood. 



I live up here in the mountains and never go into the 

 towns. I haven't any books except an old copy of 

 "Homer's Iliad," written by A. Pope, and the only things 

 1 read are Forest and Stream and once in a while a 

 county paper. So you see I don't know anything about 

 books or book learning, and now that I am puzzled I 

 thought I would write to you. Maybe you or some of 

 the men that write for your paper can help me out. I 

 know that some of them know a good deal about the 

 matter that's worrying me. 



I came out to this couutry in 1851, and have been here 

 ever since. I have done most eveiything here, hunted 

 and scouted tor the Government, and fought Indians and 

 prospected and mined. It was a good country until after 



the war, when the left wing of Price's army moved out 

 hero and took it. Now it's too full of people, but I have 

 moved round considerable, and it seems just the same 

 everywhere, so I've built me a cabin up here in Meagher 

 county, and during the winter I trap, and in summer I 

 take out hunting parties and let them kill a little game. 

 Now what I am driving at is this. Last year there came 

 a couple of young fellows out here and stopped with me. 

 They were pilgrims, didn't know anything about the 

 mountains, hadn't ever seen any game. But they were 

 the right sort after all, young, eager and strong, and 

 what was more important, anxious to learn. So I got 

 along right well with them and they killed game enough 

 so that they went off satisfied. 



One night one of these young chaps sat up and reeled 

 off a lot of poetry about a man named Mazeppa. I had a 

 horse once by that name that I bought of a webfoot over 

 in Oregon for six beaver skins twenty-three years ago 

 last summer. A pinto he, was and a terrible good strong 

 horse, but too big for the mountains and not spry enough. 

 The Piegans stole him from me that same fall. 



Now, this man Mazeppa lived somewhere in Europe, 

 and it seems he got into some sort of a fuss with 

 the chief of his baud, and the chief punished him 

 by packing him on to a broncho that had never been 

 caught up before, and then turning the horse loose on 

 the prairie. The young fellow that repeated the story 

 when he came to this part of it said: 



"They M6d me on with many a thong." 



The question I want to ask is this. What sort of a 

 hitch did these packers in Europe use? 



I have seen Indians pack and Greasers pack, soldiers 

 pack and cowboys pack, and I am a packer myself, hut 

 I never heard of any hitch where they used more than 

 one ropi? to lash with. 



I have been throwing the ropes now for about thirty 

 years, and if there is anything more to learn about pack- 

 ing than I already know I want to find it out. Some of 

 the men who write for your paper are good packers I 

 know, for I have read their articles, and some of them 

 must have read a great many books and likely know all 

 about this matter. If they do I wish they would write 

 about it for your paper. 



I understood that when they packed Mazeppa, they put 

 him on a naked horse, and I know that I couldn't pack a 

 man on a horse so that he would ride all day if I used 

 more than one rope to lash with. I don't understand it. 



Meagher Countt, Mont., Nov. in. Packer. 



NOTES ON WESTERN FLORIDA. 



V. — CRUISING DOAVN THE COAST. 



WE spent a day with the old Scotchman on the Sopy- 

 Chopy River, going over his farm with him and 

 in the afternoon taking a long stroll through the pine 

 forest. Partridges (quail) were numerous, and we easily 

 killed enough for supper. 



The surrounding country is a fine one, and when the 

 railroad communication is more perfect will certainly 

 offer great inducements to settlers. The farm that we 

 visited was very fertile and showed the advantage of 

 careful cultivation. Fruit of all kinds, especially the 

 most magnificent plums, grew abundantly, and judging 

 from the sleek appearance of the herds of cattle the 

 pasturage of the swamps and pine barrens must be most 

 excellent. 



The drift clown river was accomplished without inci- 

 dent, save for the occasional fouling of our rigging in 

 some tall pine and the vast amount of Italian profanity 

 necessary to extricate us from our position, and we ran 

 through the canal and into the Ockolockone River in 

 abottt one-third of the time that it took us to make the 

 up trip. By night we had reached the bay and were 

 once more rejoicing in that feeling of freedom that comes 

 to the true sailor when he returns to the sea after a. cruise 

 in fresh water. 



From Ockolockone Bay we sailed around to the St. 

 Mark's Lighthouse that stands at the mouth of the 

 Waukulla River. The light rises 80ft. above the narrow 

 sandy beach and is completely surrounded by marshes; 

 myriads of mosquitoes and sandflies make life almost 

 unendurable, and at night we were obliged to anchor a 

 mile out at sea in order to have relief from the wretched 

 insects. It is difficult to understand how the keeper of 

 the light manages to survive, and it is but another evi- 

 dence that the human species is adaptable by nature to 

 life under any climate or condition. 



We reached this charming spot about dusk one Satur- 

 day evening, and found quite a little navy of sponging 

 schooners riding at anchor in the little bay. The fish- 

 eries are only eight or ten miles off the light, and the 

 fleet comes in every Saturday night to be ready on Sun- 

 day morning to ascend the river to the little town of St. 

 Marks, where supplies of water and fuel are laid in for 

 the coming week. There were about a dozen crafts, 

 mostly schooners, varying from four to fifteen tons bur- 

 den. The week's work had been a successful one, and 

 all hands seemed in good spirits to judge from the laugh- 

 ter and shouts that came from every deck. We anchored 

 about 200yds. from a boat owned and manned by some 

 friends of our sailor, Santo; and, having potted more 

 birds than we could gorge that night, we hailed our neigh- 

 bors to come over and sup with us. The invitation was 

 immediately accepted, and five very dirty and malodor- 

 ous Dagos squatted around the hatch with us that night. 

 As Santo was the only member of our crowd who spoke 

 Italian, and as our guests did not understand a word of 

 English, it may be imagined that the conversation was 

 somewhat halting, and was principally confined to pass- 

 ing each other the bread and meat mixed with the most 

 frantic gesticulations used to impress the most trivial re- 

 marks. Santo, however, kept up a pretty steady chatter. 

 Polite fellows these Italians. Take them from any class 

 and of any occupation and you will invariably find them 

 scrupulous in etiquette. Give a penny to a Neapolitan 

 beggar and he will thank you in such a way as to recom- 

 pense you the gift, while the merest vagabond in the 

 streets, after he has finished torturing you with his hand 

 organ, will make a bow that a courtier might envy. 

 True, the one may assassinate you, or the other steal your 

 purse the next moment after having wished you God 

 speed; but, even among rascals, a polite one certainly 

 possesses advantages. 



I Taking it all in all we had a very pleasant supper — at 

 least every one had enough to eat, and that constitutes 

 the acme of a fine meal at sea. Rusticus and I retired 

 rather early, leaving Santo to entertain our guests, which 



he did by keeping up one steady chatter that exceeded in 

 volume anything that I have ever heard. Whether they 

 were discussing the tariff. Italian politics, or the best way 

 to cure sponges, I could not tell; but after the Dago 

 fashion all talked at once, no one appearing to listen, and 

 all hands made the most extravagant gesticulations. At 

 times I feared that the confab was about to end in a gen- 

 eral row; fists would be shaken in each other's faces and 

 voices raised to the highest pitch, when a loud guffaw 

 would show that they were only conversing in their reg- 

 ular tongue. Odd people, they are, indeed. 



At last, somewhat to our relief, the five rose to depart; 

 each one kissed Santo and Santo kissed each one; then, 

 like good Catholics, they made the sign of the cross, 

 kissed again and rowed' back to their own schooner, 

 keeping up the chatter as the distance increased, until 

 they were obliged to shout: and, actually, far into the 

 night, after they had evidently retired, every now and 

 then one would hail Santo from across the water and 

 shout something that he had forgotten, some joke, per- 

 haps, then all would laugh boisterously and lie down 

 again. 



The next morning, iu company with the sponge fleet, 

 we ascended the Waukulla River. The channel is very 

 tortuous and badly defined, and the entrance in certain 

 w inds is dangerous. Banks of "coon oysters" are exposed 

 on all sides to check and" confuse the unfamiliar navigator, 

 and the wrecks of several schooners show that great care 

 is necessary in the handling of the tiller. Our fleet passed 

 through in safety, following one another in Indian file. 

 The Waukulla at its mouth is a stream of considerable 

 size, the banks being at least half a mile apart. For the 

 first two miles the surrounding country is one great marsh 

 covered with high grass, and the a.b< ide of countless water- 

 fowl. Cormorants and ducks flew over us in long lines 

 or perched upon the stakes used to mar k t lie channel, and 

 we kept firing as fast as we could load. Alligators were 

 extremely abundant and about as fearless as I have ever 

 seen. A great fellow lay iu front of an advancing boat 

 and actually came near being run over before he would 

 condescend to move. One that I killed by a shot in the 

 eye, and luckily managed to secure before it sank, meas- 

 ured over seven feet, and it required the united efforts of 

 all our party to hoist him on deck. I took the best of the 

 teeth as trophies and then turned his carcass back into 

 the water, a prey for the buzzards. 



Four miles above the mouth of the river, where the 

 banks become higher and palmetto groves dot the hitherto 

 objectless level, is the site of the old town of DeLeon. 

 once a thriving village with a considerable trade and the 

 principal market of the sponge business. A railroad con- 

 nected it with Tallahassee, giving direct communication 

 with the interior and making of it an important outlet; 

 bub it was swept away by a hurricane some twenty years 

 ago, and now nothing remains but the graveyard, whose 

 stones mark the resting place of the town as well as its 

 former inhabitants. 



Five and a half miles from the sea the little St. Marks 

 River makes into the Waukulla, and here stand the 

 remains of an old Spanish fort, while the little settle- 

 ment of St. Marks faces the river of that name a short 

 distance above the junction. 



We tied up at the wreck of what had once been a fine 

 wharf in the days when the town had been on the boom, 

 and going ashore proceeded to see the sights of this 

 rather interesting bit of the past. 



The railroad that once connected Tallahassee with 

 De Leon passed through St. Marks and over the river on 

 a fine bridge, but the same storm that destroyed De Leon 

 wrecked the terminal miles of the railroad and it was 

 never rebuilt, but operated ever since between St. Marks 

 and Tallahassee. This road still exists and has a schedule 

 time of three trains per week which, judging from what 

 I saw of the roadbed, must be a severe tax upon the 

 capacity of the line. A rather good tale was once told 

 to me by a drummer, who had chanced to travel over 

 this unf requeuted road one winter. It seems that the 

 track is at present built of old rails that are mostly the 

 leavings of other roads, and that some of these pieces of 

 iron are ridiculously short; at one place, so this friend of 

 mine avows, an entire rail had been removed from the 

 ties (carried off perhaps by some negro to be used as a 

 sinker for a fishing line), so the train came to a stop 

 while the conductor examined a gap in the track of about 

 a foot, What was to be done? Drummer, the sole pas- 

 senger, in despair, ten miles from nowhere and a close 

 connection to make at Tallahassee. "Never mind," says 

 the engineer. "All aboard." Up climbs the one pas- 

 senger, back goes the train for several hundred yards, 

 then all steam is turned on, and with a running start 

 engine, tender and the one coach clear the gap in safety, 

 and the engineer receives the thanks of the wondering 

 commercial traveler.* - 



Before the war an enormous amount of cotton was an- 

 nually shipped from St. Marks direct to European ports, 

 and though the town itself never contained over five 

 hundred inhabitant?, yet so advantageous a position did 

 it hold at one time that the annual business was enor- 

 mous. Great warehouses and compresses were erected, 

 and the prosperity of the place was phenomenal; but the 

 same causes that occasioned the fall of Apalachicola were 

 felt here, and now the town has fallen to almost nothing. 

 Two stores and four or five dwellings are all that are left. 

 It is indeed the abomination of desolation, infested with 

 crowds of the dirtiest, blackest, most repulsive of all 

 negroes; that swarm everywhere, lounging around the 

 stores and fighting, swearing and shouting to their heart's 

 content. Many of them are employed on the spongers, 

 and come here to spend their hard-earned wages in buy- 

 ing the gaudy trinkets with which ihs st ire keeptri 

 cateh their fancy. The place must be frightfully un- 

 healthy, as it is but a small patch of dry ground com- 

 pletely surrounded by swamps. "No," said one of the 

 inhabitants, to whom I had put the sanitary question , 

 "St. Marks is perfectly healthy, but they have right 

 smart o' fever over yonder," pointing away off some- 

 where. But so it always is if you take the word of a 

 native— the fever is never here but alway there; and were 

 one to seek a self -acknowledged sickly country, it would 

 be almost as hard to reach as the end of a rainbow. 



The fishing in the rivers and on the sea off St. Marks 

 lighthouse is magnificent, and on train days, when the 

 boats come in to ship their catch to Tallahassee, one may 

 see an array of fish that is truly wonderful. On this 

 business, and the small part of the sponge trade that 



* The well-known characteristic of drummers prevent me from 

 vouching for this somewhat doubtful story, 



