Dec. 20, 1888.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



433 



BILL DAVIS'S BEAR FIGHT. 



YES, I said, as the Colonel finished h is story, a revol- 

 ver combined with presence of mind 'no doubt 

 saved your friend from death, and that reminds me of a 

 story told to me this fall, when Mr. Wythe. Dan Harris 

 and I went to the Big Horns elk hunting. Bill Davis 

 still bears the marks of the terrific struggle, and the old 

 man related the story just as I will try to give it. "One 

 afternoon,'' said he, "a little while' after I had come 

 to the country, as I was busy building a log storehouse 

 for the grub I expected would come soon by wagon, my 

 partner yelled out to me, 'I say, Bill, there's a big 

 silvertip down in the chokecherry bushes 'cross the 

 creek.' Now you know bear meat is prime eating in 

 whiter, and such a chance wasn't to be lost, so I ran 

 into the shuck and catching up my Winchester started 

 to get that bear. I had to go about half a mile, and when 

 I got there T couldn't see anything but the bushes mov- 

 ing. At last I made out a brown patch just where the 

 bushes ran out to the foot of a hill. So I climbed up, 

 and then started down, thinking I would not iet him 

 smell me before he saw me and perhaps he'd show 

 enough to give me a good shot, but it was no go he just 

 stayed still and wouldn't come out, 



'•At last I lost patience, and said to myself I'll just 

 plump a bullet into what I can see, though whether it's 

 a head or tail I don't know. So I raised up my gun and 

 let drive at that brown patch, thinking now he'll make 

 for me, and when he gets near I'll split him open. The 

 smoke hadn't cleared away before you'd have thought an 

 earthquake had broken loose in them bushes. Of all the 

 tumbling and rolling, grunting and squalling I ever heard 

 that was the worst. Down he dropped, but was up right 

 away ; and up the hill he came, mouth wide open. I've 

 seeu and killed lots of bears, but this fellow looked about 

 four times bigger than any I've seen before or since. 

 When he got within about bOft. I threw down the lever 

 of my Winchester, and nary cartridge came up. Sick ? 

 I nearly fainted. I did have sense enough to turn and 

 run, yelling to one of the boys who had come near to 

 bring my belt of cartridges. But I was too late. The bear 

 overtook me and struck me on the shoulder, taking all 

 the shut and some of the flesh from that side, and knock- 

 ing me spinning to the ground. He. was right on top in 

 a second, and I'll never forget how big and white those 

 teeth looked as he tried to get my head in his jaws, his 

 hot breath came full in my face and almost sickened me. 

 Luckily I had kept hold of my gun, and now I jammed 

 it crosswise in his mouth, which kept him somewhat off 

 and his jaws from shutting. One rake of his right paw 

 took big ribbons of flesh from my side and aim, and. to 

 keep him from ripping my stomach open I doubled my 

 legs up. 



'•The bear was worried by that iron gun baiTel and 

 gave back a little, so I shot out with both feet and caught 

 him just below the paws, head over heels he went down 

 the hill, and you can bet I didn't stay there to see if he 

 landed all right. I ran to meet Tom with the cartridge 

 belt, and cramming the magazine full, I started back 

 after that bear, for I wasn't going to let him get away 

 when he had torn me so. There he was still in the choke- 

 cherries, tearing up the bushes and raising Cain. No 

 sooner did he see me than back he came, just spoiling 

 for another fight, but this time I was ready for him, and 

 as he reared I let drive. The ball struck him fair in the 

 neck and broke the spinal cord. He gave one jump, fell, 

 and rolled down, lying there kicking, but I wasn't taking 

 any chances, for a dead bear ain't always as dead as he 

 looks; so getting a little nearer I gave him one through 

 the head that settled him, and I left Tom to skin and cut 

 him up, while I pulled out for the house. 



"You ought to have seen Mrs. Davis when she saw me. 

 I was one big spot of blood, no shirt, and mighty little 

 pants, but she tied me up and I went to bed, and it was a 

 long time before I cared much about tramping around. 

 You boys can see the scars yet, and this left hand never 

 has got straight. 



"How did I come to tackle him with only one cartridge 

 in the gun? Well, you see my boy had been using the 

 gun, and hadn't filled it up as I keep it, and I was in too 

 big a hurry to look, but when I got well I just talked to 

 him, and he ain't touched that gun since. 



"No, sir! A knife ain't no good with a mad grizzly, 

 and I've never carried a revolver, but if I'd had one that 

 day I wouldn't have been hurt so; and if you gents intend 

 tackling bear just strap a .45 on you, for you may find it 

 mighty handy though it's mean to pack around." 

 ' ' R, H. W. 



A RETROSPECT OF FORTY YEARS. 



''l^WO or three months since, while rowing across Lake 

 X Pocatapogue, I spied a tent upon an island, which 

 brought back like a flash to mind the first tent I ever saw, 

 nearly forty years ago. I lived then in the little village 

 of Windsor, upon the Susquehanna River, remote from 

 lines of travel, and as pretty and secluded a location as 

 one would care to see. While playing one day upon the 

 village green with other lads, we saw a strange boat 

 come down the river and draw up at the point of an 

 island near the further shore. Presently something white 

 appeared, whereat one boy, more knowing than the rest 

 of us, shouted "Tent!'' and away we ran down across the 

 flats and over the long covered bridge at full speed; and 

 crossing a short dam, in ten minutes were there. This 

 was my first knowledge of such a thing as camping out. 

 Two young men formed the party and everything was 

 brand new — boat, tent and all. One of the party was 

 getting the tent to rights, and the other was dressing 

 some fish they had taken on the way down and which he 

 put into a skillet and over the fire. The savory smell of 

 that mess of fish lingers with me yet. It seemed as 

 though I had never smelt anything so good before. 



They were not extremely sociable, and did not seem 

 impressed to any great degree by our visit. In answer to 

 our boyish questions they said they had come from "up 

 the river" and were going "down the river," and "for 

 fun of course." I could not quite understand that, but I 

 have thought of it a great many times since. I have also 

 thought of and longed for the splendid fishing which was 

 then to be had right at our very doors. Within forty 

 rods of my father's house were the river and four ponds, 

 or coves, as we called them then, all literally alive with 

 fish. In those days people fished more for "meat" than 

 because of fashion, and the waters were not fished to 

 death. There were not over half as many people any 

 way, and they did not fish for "count" as much as now; 



but. as I remember, when they had taken enough they 

 would wind the line around the old-fashioned pole and 

 go home. And such fish. I have never seen such perch 

 since as we could catch there any day, and the pickerel 

 were far larger than now, to say nothing of the pike. I 

 went back to that country a while ago, and it gave me 

 pain. The woods were gone where I used to play, and 

 where I had once picked berries by the bushel the woods 

 bad grown again. The coves had been drained and 

 changed to fine meadows; the river did not seem half so 

 large, and the fishing — well, it was the same old story. 

 Almost the only thing I could find to interest me was 

 the time-table of the new railroad where it showed the 

 departure of trams. 



The village had in some way imported a live man, and 

 had arrived at the dignity or a weekly paper, and not 

 spelled with an "a," either. In a recent number sent to 

 me I had read how the black bass had been planted and 

 had increased and multiplied, and I had said to myself: 

 "I'll try them." So 1 had put a rod in my trunk and 

 come around. I called into service a nice old man who 

 had worked around my mother's place, to get me some 

 bait, and take his boat and set me across the mill race 

 upon the dam. It was a likely looking place for bass, and 

 as I put my rod together and impaled a worm upon the 

 hook, a feeling of great peace came upon me, and rejoic- 

 ing that I was once more at home and in my old haunts. 

 If the old time fish had grown scarce and small, surely I 

 could find much to comfort me in the thought that anew 

 comer, the gamy bass, was here in all his glory. For a 

 little time I enjoyed thinking over my boyhood days so 

 much that I scarcely noticed, and cared nothing for, 

 the want of luck. I remembered how right here Jake 

 Marshall, who was the Izaak Walton of that town, and I 

 had caught as many fish as I could carry one morning 

 before breakfast. 



Just below the bridge, not the old covered one where 

 Captain Jones took toll, but the new iron one, I could see 

 Hall's Eddy, where no one in the old days ever fished in 

 vain. Twenty rods behind me was the "swimming hole," 

 where all we boys learned to swim, and where we spent 

 hours every day during the summer. Then I began to 

 note the absence of bass, and I moved around a little, 

 getting a nibble now and then, but nothing encouraging. 

 After an hour or two of this I had a bite which was un- 

 mistakably bass, and in a spirit of desperation I fairly 

 yanked him out upon the dam. 



Down went my aged friend upon his marrow bones and 

 gathered him in. 



"Ah! he's a beauty," he said, and held Mm up for me 

 to admire. He was about five inches long. I left. Mc. 

 Middlktown, Conn. 



MOON LAKE. 



THERE is a fascination about our Eastern lakes that 

 years of sojourn amid mountains and deserts cannot 

 destroy. Years ago I used to troll for pickerel in Lake 

 Hopatcong, and cast the fly on the calm waters of Green- 

 wood Lake, and the memory of those days is like an 

 Indian summor idyl. That was before the days of fash- 

 ionable hotels and club houses. A person had to love 

 piscatorial pleasures to endure the inconveniences of the 

 third-class inns that were then to be found about 

 "Brooklyn Pond." As for the thickets about "Long 

 Pond" (Greenwood Lake), chapparel of the Sierra alone 

 could equal them in density. And there was sport at 

 Delaware Water Gap before 'the completion of the rail- 

 road along the east bank of the river. Red fox and Vir- 

 ginia deer tempted the hunter, nor was the bear a stran- 

 ger in the wild lands of Warren and Sussex counties. I 

 suppose that now, in the summer season, canoes and 

 camps fine the shore, and that tennis courts cover the 

 natural lawns where erstwhile was the bark camp of the 

 hunter who loved to dwell from other men apart. Heaven 

 forbid that any canoeist or camper misjudge me for a 

 misanthrope. I am merely comparing the old with the 

 new. 



Then there were long vacations in Vermont or amid 

 the Berkshires, where I learned to beguile the wary trout, 

 or would lazily angle for chubs. Many of these New 

 England lakes, nestled among sombre pines, hidden among 

 the Green Mountains, strangely resemble Donner and 

 Weber lakes in the Sierra; but I never enjoyed fishiugfor 

 lake trout in California, even with the most approved of 

 tackle, half as much as I delighted in my experience as a 

 novice, with the small fry of Yankeedom. 



Influenced by the sacred memories of lakes that Hove, 

 I resolved in August to visit the lake region of Nebraska. 

 Tn imagination I saw once more the blue laughing waters, 

 white pebbled beach, the greensward beyond and a back- 

 ground of pines, noble pines, that I might know a prairie 

 State could never produce. Moon Lake was our destina- 

 tion. It is still in the wilderness, but settlers are within 

 hailing distance, and next year some hardy adventurer 

 will build his cabin where, less than two years ago, Sioux 

 and Crows fought for their hunting grounds. The lake is 

 the largest of five ponds that he in the western part of 

 Brown county. It is only fif ten miles south of the new 

 Fremont, Elkhorn and Missouri Valley R. R. Had I been 

 wise I should have taken the rail to the neares^point, but 

 instead we drove 150 miles northwest from Kearney , over 

 sand hills and through ' -bad lands," thinking with the close 

 of each day that we had almost reached a hunter's para- 

 dise. Still the trip gave us an opportunity of seeing and 

 judging of the migrations and changes of fauna and flora 

 that are so marked in this section. We had expected to 

 find the "whitetail," but our first victim was a genuine 

 Cariacus macrotis, although it is here called "mule deer" 

 as well as "blacktail." It was killed near Brewster on 

 the North Loup. From this point north and west deer 

 were comparatively abundant. A fine drawn from 

 Brewster to Julesburg will give the eastern limit of 

 antelope for the coming season. There were, last Janu- 

 ary, several small herds north of Julesburg and Ogalalla, 

 but their westward drift can be traced by the mere novice, 

 and, with the present influx of settlers, it is safe to pre- 

 dict that in three years there will not be an antelope left 

 outside the most' western counties of the State. Elk 

 signs have almost disappeared about Moon Lake, but a 

 few bunches are left in the Cherry country. The elk 

 became extinct in central Nebraska about 1877; the ante- 

 lope some five years later. 



The seventh day from Kearney brought us to our des- 

 tination, and, for Nebraska, the pond was all that could 

 be expected. It is a sheet of water three miles in length 

 by from one-half to three-fourths of a rnfle in width. 



Unlike most Nebraska ponds this is free from rushes and 

 sedges, that choke what would otherwise be considered 

 beautiful waters. About the banks carices flourish and 

 grow to an unusual height, and back of these the hills 

 were covered with verdure. Chubs, perch and catfish 

 were the only fish, but our sport was not to be with hook 

 and line. Prof. Aughey, in his work on the "The Physi- 

 cal Geography and Geology of Nebraska," says: "The 

 mallard was formerly exceedingly common in the State 

 during its migration, but it is now much less so, owing, 

 no doubt, to the manner in which it was hunted down. 

 Many formerly brought forth tneir young in north Ne- 

 braska." This seems to be the great breeding ground of 

 mallards, and, to a certain degree, of the woodduck. 

 Here are also found the least tern and the black tern 

 with their young. In this primeval solitude we needed 

 no blinds, no decoys. It seemed as though there were 

 enough mallard about Moon Lake to make, in the proper 

 season, good shooting for the whole State. 



In observing signs of bird life I was surprised to find 

 the belted kingfisher, which I thought belonged only to 

 the river region in the southeastern portion of the State. 

 But of songsters we saw none. We had passed their 

 western limit, though they keep pace with fruit trees and 

 timber claims. And here is a nut for ornithologists to 

 crack. For several summers while camping beside some 

 trout streaui, high up in the mountains of Idaho, in 

 Alpine valleys where wild flowers run riot, I have been 

 wakened at dawn by the matin song of the thrushes. 

 Nowhere in the West have I listened to such a chorus. It 

 was as though the songsters had left the hillsides of New 

 England, and were watching the sunrise from the ridge- 

 pole of the continent. Brown thrushes, wood thrashes, 

 finches, warblers all were singing. These are the birds of 

 the East, not of the West. How do they get there? For 

 an interval of seven hundred miles they are not observed 

 even as a migratory species. So far as I can judge, they 

 follow the Arkansas or Missouri to their headwaters, and 

 then summer northward and southward among the pines 

 and quaking aspens, staying scarce two months, then dis- 

 appearing as mysteriously as they came. This is a digres- 

 sion, but it is the privilege of the indulger in reminis- 

 cences to ramble. So, in this glorious November weather, 

 whether tramping over prairie, gun on shoulder, after 

 quail or chicken, or, sitting in the twilight, beside the 

 cheerful fire, I see the past and hold for truth that 

 "To him in the love of nature holds 

 Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 

 A various language. 

 Kearney, Neb SHOSHONE. 



THE SUPER-SENSE OF ANIMALS. 



BECAUSE inferior animals have organisms less ex- 

 quisite than man's, because their limbs are imper- 

 fectly developed, their articulation defective and their 

 vocabulary bruited, some metaphysicians contend that 

 they have no rational intellect. Can this be proved? 

 The human race, fortunately for itself, is able to declare 

 verbally what it knows and what it can do; but as for 

 the brutes, so designated, before the prejudiced court of 

 human adjudication they are compelled by their physical 

 disability to be silent. Alack! if they could only speak 

 their thoughts what an intellectual capacity some of 

 them might reveal! 



If animals have a language of their own by which 

 they can communicate with others of their own species, 

 as it is obvious they have, but are unable to make it in- 

 telligible to man, does it reflect most upon their inability 

 to impart or man's incapacity to receive? What shall 

 determine the standard of comparative, intelligence be- 

 tween the two? Assuredly it must try the patience of 

 highly cultivated animals to make such stupid creatures 

 as men comprehend what they want, A man will drown 

 or his house burn up before his dog can make him under- 

 stand that something is wrong or that assistance is 

 needed. 



Intelligence is by no means limited by the capacity to 

 manifest and impart it. How can we manifest our intel- 

 ligence if we have not the perfect organs and members? 

 A man who has lost his palate cannot make himself un- 

 derstood ; are we to assume, therefore, that his intellect 

 is deficient? We estimate intelligence chiefly by vocal 

 and written emanations of the mind; but if a man be a 

 cripple, without limbs, as well as a mute (such have 

 lived) how can he prove himself superior to a dumb 

 brute which is handicapped in the same way? He may 

 be, but how can he prove it? We cannot in justice 

 affirm that he is a dunce and an imbecde just because 

 he makes no sign . Balaam's ass did well enough as soon 

 as his tongue was loosed, and yet his simple master had 

 always sized him tip for nothing more than the ass he 

 appeared to be. How often men as egregiously mis- 

 judge their own kiad! It has been the habit of even en- 

 lightened nations to call each other barbarians until their 

 reciprocal intercourse and interchange of tongues dis- 

 covered that they were in many respects equally gifted 

 and accomplished. To every ignoramus a foreigner is 

 always "stupid" until his language is acquired. 



Any person who will quietly and unobserved watch 

 the everyday intercourse of brutes, whether domestic or 

 wild, will soon get to understand the sounds and the 

 signs by which they communicate with each other, and, 

 in the case of farm animals, signify to their owners 

 their wants and distresses, and oftentimes their pur- 

 poses; and if he can ever gain their confidences he 

 will find them quite companionable and by no means be- 

 neath his acquaintance. Sign language as a makeshift 

 for lingual disability has been employed for time indefi- 

 nite by savages and nomadic people, as well as by mutes 

 and brutes; but do intellectual and cultivated men, with 

 all then; superior genius and aptitude, assisted by a 

 superior mobility of features, succeed in this method of 

 communication any better than the brutes? are they any 

 quicker to apprehend ? Man's intellectual face helps the 

 brute to read and interpret its purpose and meaning. The 

 brutes, it would seem, in the absence of equally express- 

 ive features, are furnished with mobile ears and indica- 

 tive tails, and even with cuticles which shrink and 

 shiver with varying emotion — manifestly a providential 

 interposition in behalf of the man. 



The physical expressions which the animals employ to 

 manifest their passions, requirernents, distresses and 



