122 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Sept. 5, 1889. 



dom into the air, to make a noise; they have not even 

 the excuse of shooting at a mark. 



The case already alluded to of the boy who shot a fly 

 on the door and killed a man behind the door has many 

 parallels, for the marksman often neglets to ascertain 

 what may be on the other side of the mark he aims at. 

 A Fairfield county, Conn., man kept an old Spencer rifle 

 loaded for burglars. One day he thought it would be a 

 good plan to unload it and put in a fresh charge. He set 

 up a tin can against his neighbor's barn, paced off his 

 distance and fired. The neighbor was in the barn back 

 of the can, and the wound was fatal. And here is a 

 story of what came so near being an accident of this sort 

 that it deserves a place here: 



Four Europeans who had been out after tiger in the MaimeuB- 

 ing district were, says a Calcutta paper, returning at the close of 

 a very long day, and had almost reached the factory where they 

 were to dine and pass the night, when the Captain ordered a halt. 

 The "line" at once pulled up, and he said, "I hate seeing loaded 

 rifles taken into a house (it was the old muzzle-loading days), 

 more especially where there are children. I propose that we fire 

 ours off." "All right," said another, "but we have not had a 

 shot all day: what do you say to a 'pool'?" "There's nothing to 

 fire at," observed a third. "There's that ghurrah," said the Cap- 

 tain, pointing to an earthen vessel which some ryots, who were 

 working at a little distance, had as usual, brought their day's 

 supply of drinking water in. "Very good," said the fourth, "but 

 what with bad light and the distance, it's by no means an easy 

 shot. I propose we each put a chick on." "How shall we decide 

 as to the order of firing?" said one. "Oh," replied the Captain 

 generously, ' commence at your end of the line." The mark 

 was by no means an easy one to Tiit, for the distance was 

 well-nigh a hundred yards, the guns smooth-bores, and the light 

 that deceptive kind which one gets just between daylight and 

 dark. But on the other hand, the hunters were exceptionally 

 good men, all excellent shots, either of whom could hit a running 

 deer from the back of an elephaut twice out of three times. "Fire 

 away," said the Captain, No. 1 grazed the right of the vessel, 

 and it was thought must have hit it. No. 2 went just over it. 

 No. 3 went a little to the left. "Thank you, gentlemeu,'" said the 

 Captain, "I'll trouble you for those twelve rupees." He raised 

 his gun as he spoke, and the next moment the jar was covered 

 with earth, the bullet had cut the ground beneath it. Presently 

 the vessel was seen to wriggle and then to kick, while a feeble cry 

 proclaimed it to be a baby. Consternation was depicted on 

 every face. The elephants bolted, the sahibs jumped down and 

 rushed to the spot, the parents running from the opposite direc- 

 tion. The little mite hadn't been touched and was carried off by 

 the father and mother with great rejoicing. They also took the 

 "pool" along with them, and right glad the sahibs were under 

 the circumstances to part with it. 



W** §iportmt\nn f^otmst 



OUTDOORS. 



{.Concluded from' page 102.] 

 rpHE most of the bass that I have caught in the Inter- 

 J. mediate Lakes were of the large-mouthed variety, 

 while those taken below the dam at Elk Rapids, where these 

 waters empty into Grand Traverse Bay, are usually small 

 mouths, which seems odd. Another queer thing is that, 

 except myself, I have never chanced to see any person 

 take a bass. When long ago I fished in the New England 

 States there were no bass there to my knowledge, and for 

 many years I scarcely ever Avetted a line except for trout 

 of one or another sort. Even when at a later period of 

 my life I had the black bass within reach I did not seek 

 them, and it is only since my residence in the Grand 

 Traverse region that I have learned that bass fishing with 

 light tackle is a sport which no angler need despise. 



It has never been my fortune to fish where the black 

 bass were very abundant, but in some of the rivers in 

 Kansas, Missouri and the Indian Territory, I have seen 

 the rapids almost crowded with them, many of great size. 

 Excepting spears no tackle was to be had and I caught 

 none. 



In these waters I do not much affect the use of the fly 

 or of the minnow in the pursuit of bass. One objection 

 to the fly is that it will commonly capture twenty or 

 more rock bass to one of the larger species, which is tire- 

 some and vexatious. These lakes contain much grass 

 and weeds in many places where fishing is best, and a 

 minnow soon wears out, though attached by the most 

 approved method to the hook. The artificial minnows 

 seem to take better in swift waters than in still. What- 

 ever the bait, if living, I always kill it before placing it on 

 the hook. Probably I should' catch more fish if I didn't, 

 but I commonly get all I need. 



On the whole I know no better bait than the frog, and 

 if when hooked through the lips, a strip of red flannel is 

 first passed lengthwise round the bodyfthe two ends fast- 

 ened by the hook, this bait will last a very long time. 



Should it chance that some extremely exclusive and 

 highly artistic fly -fisher or minnow- caster has so far smoth- 

 ered his feelings as to follow my discourse to this point, 

 he will probably exalt his aesthetic nose, and pass con- 

 temptuously over the remaining portion of the paper. 

 To such, if such there be, I would say that in my judg- 

 ment it is well enough at times that high art should com- 

 bine with com m on sense. If a man fishes unsuccess- 

 fully, for days perhaps, with a certain sort of lure which 

 has been pronounced by recognized authorities as the 

 correct thing, it speaks well for his persistence, and also 

 for his devotion to high-art angling. 



One, however, naturally infers that the main object of 

 this angler is the display of skill and dexterity, the catch- 

 ing of fish being merely incidental; and the lordly con- 

 tempt evinced by some of these gentlemen for the man 

 who, though in no sense a " fish-bog," prefers on most 

 occasions as far as may be to consult his convenience and 

 the desire of the fish as well, recalls to mind the stories 

 of duels which were sometimes fought in presence of 

 opposing armies, between Moslem and Crusader. The 

 business of a warrior of either party was, professedly, to 

 kill as many infidels as possible, but when one fellow 

 succeeded in up-ending his antagonist, and, poking the 

 "dagger of mercy" or the spike of a battle-axe under 

 his nose, invited him to surrender; a spirit of complais- 

 ance not perhaps unnatural under the circumstances gen- 

 erally induced a prompt accession to the request. These 



formula? completed, the fallen man arose, brushed from 

 his sollerets the dust of the tiltyard, and with reciprocal 

 and profound conges the duellists returned each to his 

 own friends. No soul of infidel of either faith had thus 

 been sent to hell — cross and crescent were in statu quo — 

 but the best lance of the twain had shown his prowess, 

 and he was well content. 



I passed the next day in camp. It was Sunday, and I 

 had several calls. The first of these was from a young 

 man who crossed the lake and came up to my tent, bear- 

 ing in his hand a large fat coon, just taken from a trap 

 set not far distant. He told me that 1 ' ' ought ter hev 

 ben with him, half an hour ago, for he see a rousin' big 

 buck jes' t'other side o' ther lake."' In order to put my 

 views of the matter on a level with his comprehension, I 

 replied that bucks were worth at that season fifty dollars 

 apiece, which was more that I could afford. He took up 

 his coon, and saying that " he guessed there wouldn't 

 nobody bother me much f I shot a deer or tew round 

 there," he disappeared amid the amber glow of the forest 

 leaves. 



I finished putting the camp to rights, and sat me.down 

 to read. The book was an old favorite, " Norway and 

 the Norwegians," by Miss Martineau, and I think first 

 appeared in the United States in the columns of LittelTs 

 Living Age. I had not read it in many years, and just as 

 I was beginning to renew my acquaintance with the 

 farmer-fishermen of the Arctic Circle, a shadow fell 

 across the page, and I rose to greet an old acquaintance. 

 Pie was a woodsman from the start, and many years ago, 

 when worn and wearied with the toils of war, he brought 

 his family into the Northern wilds, and pitched his tent 

 amid these solitudes. The forest went down before 

 his axe, and the beautiful wilderness became a garden. 

 Hunting, fishing, farming by turns, he still lives on the 

 farm he cleared so long ago, and though he has had a 

 hard struggle with fortune, yet was he never known to 

 turn from his door any one who sought a meal or the 

 shelter of his roof. Two dollars, he said, was all he 

 owed, and he could pay that pretty soon. His place 

 was clear of debt, he liked the country, and he guessed 

 he'n the ol' woman 'd lay their bones near by, some day, 

 f'r all the talk o' better countries south." 



Declining my offer of a bucket, he seated himself upon 

 the ground, and, chewing the while a piece of elm bark, 

 the old man discoursed of hunting. "When I lived in 

 Saint Clair county the' was me 'n' four Allen boys 't hed 

 a gun in our hands all the time. The' was lots o' ol' pine 

 choppin's plum full o' blackb'ries, V the' was bears till 

 you couldn't rest. One fall the fire got into the woods 

 'n' drove the bears out. Well, sir, jes' 'soon 's anybody 

 see one on 'em, they'd git on a hos "n come over 'n' let us 

 know. We hed enough o' bear huntin' that fall. We' 

 was out day 'n' night, 'n' sometimes we'd get completely 

 tired out. We killed twenty-five on 'em in three weeks.' 



"You must have understood bear hunting." 



"We did. We'd practiced shootin' on the run, 'n' we 

 had a dog 't was sure when onct he struck a trail. The 

 way we ust ter practice was tu git a barrel head 'n' put 

 some cleats acrost it, an' one on us 'd throw it so 's 't 'd 

 roll along the ground. The' was a white spot 'n the mid- 

 dle, an' we got so 't we'd git the ball 'ithin three or four 

 inches most every shot, 'n' pooty often we'd plug the 

 center." 



"They use swinging and trap targets nowadays," 

 said I. 



"Yes, so IVe heerd; but them 's tew stiddy. You see, 

 the barrel head 'ud jump an' jounce, 'n' you had ter be on 

 yer leathers 'f you meant ter hit it center. We hed a 

 rule never to shoot at a bear's head, onless he was side- 

 ways to us. Course, 'f he was up a tree, we could plug 

 him any whus we was a ruin' ter. 



"Nobody thet hain't never see a bear performin' 'th a 

 dog, haint no idee o' ther spring the' is into 'em. No, I 

 don't want no foolin' with 'em at clost quarter, 'n' I want 

 a gun I c'n depend on, every time. 



"Our dog was a pretty big one, but he was quick, and 

 he know'd how ter keep out o' ther way. The' was three 

 on us watched him one day 's much 's three quarters 

 of an hour. We was sure o' ther bear, and we wanted 

 ter seem 'em perform. The bear he wanted ter tree, but 

 ther dog he wouldn't let him. Whenever the bear 'd git 

 up, say four foot high, ther dog he'd jump up 'n' give 'm 

 a nip. He was so heavy 't the bear couldn't keep his holt, 

 'n' down he'd come. Then he'd set up agin the rhuts o' 

 the tree, 'n' the dog he'd play around the back on % f'm 

 one side to t'other, *n' the bear he'd look just this way 'n' 

 then that way, V arter a while ther dog he'd catch him 

 a nip, 'n' the bear he'd jes' turn a summerset — seemed 's 

 ef he'd go twenty foot, but ther dog he wouldn't be there. 

 Finally, the bear he got so tired 't he wouldn't try ter 

 climb the tree, 'n' we jest hauled off 'n' shot him. 



"Sometimes a very slight wound apperently '11 kill a 

 bear, an' then again you'll hev to shoot 'em all to pieces. 

 One we killed, the' was fifteen men a'ter him that time, 

 hed fourteen balls through him, 'n' seven on 'em was 

 in his head, 'n' he wa' n't dead then." 



"How did it happen that there was so many of you?" 



"Why, you see, he come right down into the village, 

 'n' we just dropped everything 'n' put a'ter him. One 

 feller 't worked in a cooper shop — he heun't no gun, so 

 he jes' grabbed up a pair o' them coopers' adze, 'n' when 

 he come up 'ith the bear, he 's so excited he jumped right 

 astraddle on him, 'n' hit 'im a' awful clip 'ith them adze. 

 It cut his laig half off, 'n' the next crack split his skull." 



"That bear didn't have fair play." 



"No more he didn't, that's a fact. Well, 1 declare, I 

 didn't think the mornin' 's so fur gone; I mus' be off. 

 Come up 'n' see us 'fore ye go." 



Again I opened the book, but scarce had read a page 

 when another step stirred the crisp maple leaves along 

 the trail. This time the talk was of loars and mortgages, 

 and my advice was sought how best a little farm, almost 

 its owner's sole posses- ion, might now be freed from the 

 incumbrance with which its owner had through illness 

 been compelled to charge the land. He soon departed, 

 taking with him my advice and sympathy. His needs 

 were great, and I did not at once return to my book, but 

 gazed dreamily out upon the placid lakelet and the cloud- 

 swept skies, and thought how many there are among the 

 rich and generous of our land who need but know a case of 

 real distress to straightway send relief. But after all, the 

 very rich are few and far; the poor we have always with 

 us. 



Then came a basket-maker, holding by the hand a tod- 

 dling child, who gazed with wide blue eyes upon my 

 shining reel, and soon slumbered in his father's arms. 



The sun drew near the western hilltops when the little 

 laddie waked, and, made glad by the gift of a newly- 

 coined nickel, trotted away by his father's side, and soon 

 the rattle of their footsteps died away among the treet*. 



I stirred the fire, and ate a hearty supper, for the long- 

 sought appetite had come at last, and T was hourly gain- 

 ing in health and strength. I watched the glimmer of 

 the lake and thought over old times until the fire had 

 burned low, and the spangled skies seemed close above 

 the trees, then betaking myself to my blankets, lay down 

 to pleasant dreams. 



Next morning I bade good-by to my pleasant camp, 

 and, paddle in hand, was soon threading the devious 

 waterways of a large and lonely swamp. I had thought 

 to shoot ducks upon this trip, but it happened that I came 

 just between the flights, so that up to this time I had seen 

 but four. 



Toward noon a dam was reached, below which for 

 some distance the stream is so choked with logs and sim- 

 ilar obstructions as to be difficult of navigation. I accord- 

 ingly shouldered my fusee and sought the cabin of a 

 neighboring farmer, around whom clustered several in- 

 cipient hunters, who eyed curiously my gun and accou- 

 trements while I made known my errand. 



One of the boys was forthwith dispatched in search of 

 a yoke of oxen, supposed to be "som'ers in the timber," 

 and ^uring his absence I asked the old Scotchman if the 

 wood ducks often nested thereabouts. 



"Ay," said he, "there was a richt pretty pair o' deukes 

 biggit i' the hollow tree thot stood oot i' the mowin lang 

 syne. Ae woonter, I coot it doon for eilding, an' i' the 

 spreng the deukes was fleein' roond, an' a-fleein' roond, 

 to find the auld tree agen. An' had I thocht they wad 

 hae missed it sae, I'd na coot it doon ava\" 



The oxen were driven up the lane and attached by a 

 yoke and chain to a sort of sledge, rough hewn from the 

 forest, and made by the axe and auger alone from the 

 curved stems of trees. It served as a conveyance for the 

 boat, which, being placed thereon, was hauled to a cove 

 a mile or so below the dam and launched upon the waters 

 of the Six-Mile Lake. 



"The water 's but rough. I doot ye'll hardly wun the 

 foot o' the loch the day," said the old man, as he saw the 

 surges rolling on the point opposite our lauding. "Thank 

 ye, sir, good luck t' ye;" and with many a "Wo-ha!" 

 with thump and bump and clank of chains, the clumsy 

 sledge clattered against the gnarled roots of the cedars 

 and soon vanished in the dense undergrowth. 



Being undecided as to my future movements, and in 

 no hurry whatever, I kindled a fire and made coffee, the 

 while watching the foaming swells which swept along a 

 few rods from my seat, to break and shatter on the tus- 

 socks of a little marsh above the landing. I bad been at 

 this place before, and remember that on one occasion a 

 certain greenhorn took post in the marsh, where he did 

 watch for ducks, the sun meanwhile beating furiously on 

 his unprotected head. Toward noon there came from his 

 stand a heavy bang. Another soon followed; and as 

 dinner was nearly ready one of our party took boat and 

 brought the shooter in, hungry and duckless. During 

 our meal he detailed the manner of his firing two sitting 

 shots at the same duck. "I took despufc good aim, tew, 

 'n I dono haow I missed him," 



"Is that your duck?" said Marden, pointing to a diver 

 not far distant. 



"Ye-es, thet's him— dern the thing." 



"Do you want to see him killed?" 



"W'y, yes— but yeou caan't dew it. I tell ye I took 

 desput aim, an' — " 



"You just paddle me over there after dinner, and we'll 

 see," and the hunter resumed his attack on the shoulder 

 of a twenty-pound maskinonge. 



After dinner Marden lighted his pipe,. took up his gun, 

 seated himself in the bow of the canoe, and with slow 

 and careful strokes of the paddle the greenhorn sent the 

 craft toward the seemingly unconscious diver. The face 

 of the paddler was lighted with a smile, for he expected 

 to see a miss. The duck suddenly disappeared beneath 

 the surface. 



"There, I told ye " 



While the words were spoken the duck again appeared; 

 as its head broke water the gun was leveled and dis- 

 charged, and a look of blank amazement spread over the 

 countenance of the greenhorn when he saw the bird 

 floating dead upon the surface of the lake. 



"Wall, I swow," was all he said; and fishing up the 

 diver the boat returned to camp, Marden merely saying: 

 "You'll know how to do it another time." 



The coffee began to simmer, and laying a few twigs 

 across the top of the coffee pot that the beverage inight 

 not boil over, J made my simple meal and much enjoyed 

 the same. 



A boat was coming up the lake, and I watched her 

 progress as the sail swelled out in the stormy wind, and 

 sweeping round a point she lowered canvas and made 

 the land in safety. 



That decided me. A week before I should not have 

 undertaken the job, but now I stowed the cargo and 

 made all secure, using for lashings some lengths of in- 

 sulated copper "office wire." There is nothing better for 

 this use. You can always untie them, and they cannot 

 easily be loosed or parted by accident. 



I shipped the bow-facing oars and pushed out into the 

 lake for my six miles' pull. It was a tough one, but I 

 made it, ran through St. Clair's River and lake, and 

 camped near its foot, where I slept the sleep of a weary 

 man who has earned his rest by a six-mile pull in the 

 teeth of a good, double-reefed breeze. 



The next forenoon was devoted to a stroll in company 

 with a sportsman who, with his wife, was passing the 

 season in that neighborhood. Late in the day I moved 

 my camp to a point on Bowers' Lake (the next below). 

 The night was cold and windy, and I prospected for a 

 good camp ground— a favorite amusement of mine on 

 trips like this. There is a pleasing sense of proprietor- 

 ship in cruising leisurely along, watching the birds, 

 fishes, insects, plants and scenery in general, until some 

 little peculiarity of bank, stream or foliage attracts your 

 attention, while furnishing indications that one or more 

 of the requisites of a good camp ground are waiting your 

 inspection. You give a twist of the paddle to port, and a 

 stroke or two sends the nose of your craft right into the 

 door of your hotel. Course, you haven't a deed of the 

 land; but it's yours all the same. As Curtis long ago 

 wrote in one of those admirable papers in the old Put- 

 nam's Magazine, "Bourne owns the dirt and the fences." 

 Let him have them, so that you carry away from the 



