186 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Sept. 25, 1890. 



"ABEO PISCATUM." 



TT AVE you forgotten Sodus, Sweet, and all that pleasant day, 



And how our little dainty boat went dancing down the bay? 

 It somehow seems, as summers pass, that clouds were whiter then; 

 And ah! that skies can never be so deeply hlue again. 



How dewy cool the soft breeze crept ado wn that dim old grove, 

 To touch your fair cheek tenderly as with a velvet glove; 

 And how we gathered golden-rod to wreath your wide-rimmed 

 hat, 



And how you caught the fish, Mignonne, yon must remember 

 that. 



He was a monster, I admit, nor marvel at your fear, 

 Who darted off with a wicked rush when you had drawn him 

 near. 



He pulled, and plunged, and leapt, and lunged, all frantic to be 

 free; 



Life may have seemed as sweet to him as it was then to me. 



You begged for me to land him, but a sudden fancy swayed, 

 To leave it all to you, Miguonue, and watch the fight he made. 

 Tbat fish should be an augury, his fate mine own fortell: 

 Should he break loose— but 'twas no use, you had him hooked too 

 well. 



Ah! still I see that dreamy, tender blue of bay and sky. 

 And far beyond the harbor piers the sun-bright sails go by. 

 It haunts me, too, when twilight blue bath turned to violet. 

 Have you forgotten all, so soon? and shall I not forget? 



M. M. Cass., Jr. 



IN BRUIN'S STRONGHOLD. 



MIDWAY of the river's murky tide our guide, with a 

 dextrous dip of his paddle, turns the prow of our 

 "dugout" diagonally abreast the stiff current, and we 

 drift, broadside on, toward the eastern bank. 



No suitable place for landing presents itself. The bank 

 of yellow clay, precipitous and overhanging in places, is 

 fringed along its base with a ragged barrier of bared tree- 

 roots and half-submerged drift, such as usually gathers 

 along the outer circle of a river bend. One would have 

 need of a scaling ladder to surmount this natural rampart, 

 even if the half-drooping, half-erect growth of blue cane 

 above had not sufficed to discourage the attempt, 



"Great Harrison! Did you ever see such fishing rods?'' 

 exclaimed Smith, accustomed to view everything with 

 the eye of an angler. "Some of 'em are twenty feet long, 

 if an inch!" 



"Thah's longah ones in thah brake, yondah," remarked 

 the guide. 



"I don't care to see 'em; those in sight are eighteen 

 inches longer than my wildest anticipations." 



"I kin show ye longah an' bettah ones," persisted the 

 guide, "back in thah brake whah thah watah don't ride 

 'em down." 



"But here, even at this high stage of the waters, the 

 shore overlooks the river by a dozen feet. Surely this 

 bank is never submerged?" 



"I've Beed watah ten foot up on that hackberry," re- 

 sponded the guide, indicating a tree on the highest point. 

 "Don't you see how all that cane p'ints down stream?" 



"I can see scattering drift lodged in the branches of 

 yonder bush," observed the Doctor. "It must be a grand 

 sight when this winter's overflow is at its height, and the 

 whole country on either side is submerged. Guide, how 

 wide is this little stream when at full flood ?" 



The swamp dweller shut one heavy-browed optic, and 

 meditated a moment before replying. "How wide is it 

 right heah ? Let me see. It's f oah miles tew Hamilton 

 Hill, an' foah moah 'cross tew Eaf t Creek highland at 

 thah ol' mill seat — that's eight. T'other way it's some- 

 thin' like ten mile moah." 



"Eighteen miles of water ! Just think of that, Smith." 



"Sounds fishy," responded Smith abruptly. 



"You'd think fishy," said the guide, failing to catch the 

 implied doubt of his veracity. "When thah ovahflow 

 stahts down I kin load this ol' dugout in no time." 



"With fish?" 



"Fish an' shovel-bill cat," making the distinction as 

 though it were a matter of course. "Duck yer heads an' 

 mind that bresh, boys. I'm goin' ter run her ashoah 

 heah " We had floated down the stream, reaching the 

 point where the bluff bank had given way to a weed- 

 grown mud bar, wet and sticky from a light rain that 

 had just passed over, and shaded by overhanging cotton- 

 woods and willows. The Doctor lost his footing in 

 springing ashore, leaving the imprint of his corpulent 

 person in the soft slime, but was comforted by Smith's 

 assurance that the bears would scratch the mud from his 

 clothing before it would have time to dry. 



As this was to be merely a reconnoiter with a view to 

 discovering desirable hunting grounds, a scrutiny of the 

 river bank for signs was the first thing in order. Two 

 of the party were the rankest of greenhorns in business 

 of this kind, having only left twelve hours before the 

 Pullman car that had borne them, via the Iron Mountain 

 route, from St. Louis. The guide, however, was fully 

 qualified to do the "inspecting" for the entire party. In 

 a few minutes Smith and the Doctor were examining the 

 deeply-imprinted hoof marks of a little buck that had 

 evidently wandered aimlessly along the water's verge not 

 many hours previously, though certainly before the rain- 

 fall. 



"Thar's lots of tracks, but some of 'em are powerful 

 dim," announced the guide. "I reckon that watah holes 

 in thah bottom is done filled up by thah rains. Other- 

 ways all thah game 'ud be watahin' heah at thah rivah." 



We climbed the shelving shore and followed the guide, 

 though not without some misgivings, as he plunged 

 into the almost solid walk of cane. Penetrating a brake 

 of blue cane is a hard task to even the mo3t experienced 

 "swamp ranger." It is a perpetual "crawl" under the 

 most trying of surroundings. Imagine a scope of country 

 cut up with narrow deep gullies, strewn with fallen tim- 

 ber wrapped up in a growth of briers. Then, over all 

 impediments of log, brier and ravine towers the rank, 

 springing cane, standing like blades of grass in a meadow 

 with enough of the dead and fallen, but still stubbornly 

 tough canes, to intermat the whole into a barrier not 

 easily passed. 



Hardly 20yds. into the brake the party halted at the 

 Doctor's pleading, 



"I don't kick at anything reasonable," he grumbled, 

 "but there is no use wedging ourselves into that con- 

 founded thicket. There is no bear in there; they couldn't 

 get in there!" 



The guide explained that he had not entered the brake 

 to find bear, though there was a possibility of meeting 

 one at any time. The hunting ground proper lay beyond 

 the brake. 



"And my interest in the great 'beyond' is just now 

 very faint," persisted the Doctor, wiping his perspiring 

 brow. "You fellows go on and find your bear, and I 

 will go back to the boat and watch for that deer." 



"But it's a heap furdah tew thah boat than it is tew 

 thah open, yandah," unexpectedly replied our guide. 

 "It's good goin' when we strike that slew." 



In fact the "slough," a long, narrow depression, bare 

 of cane, was then 20ft. away, though to the inexperi 

 enced eye there was nothing to indicate the proximity of 

 open ground. Once in the slough, our progress was com- 

 paratively easy, though at every sharp bend in its course 

 we encountered drifts of logs that sometimes forced us 

 to make detours through the tangled cane. Here during 

 the high waters existed a swift and deep current; every 

 indication pointed to the fact, and our guide, when in- 

 terrogated, sustained our supposition. 



"Cut-off running from that upper river," said he. 

 "That hull bottom's full of 'em." 



Occasionally at some angle a branch slough would lead 

 off, only, in a few yards, to end in a wall of cane, and. a 

 mass of logs and driftwood. 



In the damp earth of the slough bed we were shown 

 the track of a cub bear. Smith's excitement became sud- 

 denly immense and even the Doctor began to take a re- 

 newed interest in the matter. A hundred yards further 

 on we found the trail of a big fellow who had merely 

 crossed over without stopping. Both tracks were old— a 

 week old at least. Gradually, as we proceeded, the cane 

 became smaller and more scattered, and the slough, 

 divided into several prongs, finally became indistinctly 

 defined. We were now among a wilderness of low ridges 

 sprinkled over with switch cane, while the principal 

 growth of timber consisted of pawpaw sapling, with 

 an occasional persimmon and oak. The fruit of the per- 

 simmon was delicious, and although something new to 

 two of our party it was pleasing to see how quickly they 

 acquired a taste for the luscious "possum apples!" No 

 pawpaws were found, as the season for that fruit was 

 already over. 



Bear tracks were everywhere, but bruin himself was 

 not in sight. This was not a disappointment to us, for 

 we knew that the hour was too late to expect to encounter 

 a bear in the open ground. At early dawn or late in the 

 evening are the only times when bruin can be still- 

 hunted successfully. During the middle of the day he 

 lies hidden in the most impenetrable coverts and can only 

 be routed by the use of dogs. As I have said, we were 

 simply out looking for "sign," and we found enough to 

 more than satisfy us. 



Bears had been crushing the acorns beneath the cow 

 oak trees. "A fat ol' b'ar," insisted the guide; "pore 

 b'ar alius s waller thah hulls— this'n didn't." Great claws 

 had turned over the fallen leaves in search of persim- 

 mons, and the swamp nettles were rooted up as though 

 by a drove of hogs. Bears are very fond of the nettle 

 roots, it would seem. 



Tracks of deer, big and little, were mingled with those 

 of the bear. Apparently we had reached a region 

 singularly blessed with wild life; but of human visitation 

 in the past there was rmt a sign. On the west side of the 

 river settlements were quite numerous; but here — not five 

 miles from a habitation in a direct line — we were as much 

 in the wilds as though the past two hundred years of 

 Arkansas history had been only a dream. Leaving 

 the pawpaw ridges, we swung still further from the 

 river, entering a wide expanse of grass-grown bottom, 

 covered with a growth of elm, hackberry and ash, but 

 quite free from cane and underbrush. Here we flushed 

 a covey of turkeys from the grass, and the Doctor distin- 

 guishing himself by killing a diminutive young hen on 

 the wing. It was a snap-shot of course, for a .45-90 

 Winchester is hardly the arm for wing-shooting, but the 

 Doctor was reasonably exultant at his success, since it was 

 the first game killed by the party and the only game 

 killed that day, although three deer were sighted at a 

 distance. 



After an extended circuit through the open bottom we 

 struck the edge of the cane brake again, in the vicinity of 

 a little water hole, where bear sign was again successfully 

 sought for. Here, guided by land-marks known to him- 

 self alone, the guide pushed boldly into the brake, and 

 after a very short crawl we emerged upon the bank of 

 White River, within a very short distance of our dugout. 



It is not my intention to speak of the numerous oppor- 

 tunities for bear killing that we afterward enjoyed on this 

 range. As the guide carried off the laurels' as a bear 

 slayer he should be the man to chronicle the hunt. Of 

 course, the rest of us might have killed more game than 

 we did, but each had his own reasons for refraining. The 

 Doctor advanced .he somewhat doubtful statement that 

 his mission on earth was to save life, not to take it; while 

 Mr. Smith's tender heart forbade the infliction of unneces- 

 sary suffering, while bloodshed was a thing that he 

 abhorred. I wasn't aware that he possessed those char- 

 acteristics until he informed me of them after the hunt 

 was over. Next time I penetrate the White River swamps 

 I desire the companionship of a veritable butcher, a "man 

 of blood," as the novelists would say ; one of those remorse- 

 less pot-hunters whom we often read about but never see; 

 in fact, I want a companion who will look for bear on 

 the second day of the hunt as earnestly as for "sign" on 

 the first. s. D. Barnes. 



Houston, Texas. 



Hudsonian Ctjklew in Connecticut.— On Sept. 9 I 

 had the good fortune to shoot a Hudsonian curlew 

 (Numenius hudsonicus), on the meadows at Westbrook on 

 the Sound, while plover shooting. This is the only living 

 specimen I have seen for ten years, and is a rather rare 

 Connecticut visitant. He has been nicely mounted for 

 me by Mr. John Clark, the Saybrook taxidermist, who has 

 hundreds of birds in his collection, including the sickle- 

 bill (Numenius longirostris), and Esquimaux (Numenius 

 borealis), but not hudsonicus. I have not seen a golden 

 plover on the Connecticut coast for about ten years, and 

 these are also getting to be rare migrants.—A. W. Jones 

 (Center Brook, Conn.V 



TRAPPING DAYS. 



T.' — AMONG THE SIOUX. 



BUT a very few years passed after the great massacre 

 of 1862 until the tide of civilization, checked for a 

 time by the red hand of war, again rolled on over the 

 fertile lands of the great Northwest; and as much of the 

 very best of the trapping ground passed gradually into 

 the hands of individual citizens, the trapper, like the In- 

 dian before him, had to go. Some indeed, in whom the 

 love of the wilderness was a ruling passion, faced reso- 

 lutely westward and may to-day be found in out-of-the- 

 way places among the Rockies or Cascades, clinging still 

 to the freedom of the wild life, which they long ago had 

 learned to love so well upon the great water-shed of the 

 continent. The old ground was harried to comparative 

 barrenness by the ever-increasing swarm of trappers, and 

 as still a little good ground remained in the country oc- 

 cupied by the Santee Sioux, my brother consulted the 

 Sioux Indian agent, Col. Mo.Phail, in regard to the ques- 

 tion of his own safety should he go alone among them; 

 and being assured by the agent that little or no danger 

 need be apprehended from them, he determined in the 

 summer of 1868 to "carry the war into Africa," first se- 

 curing, if possible, an Indian partner. 



For this purpose he visited the first Indian settlement 

 on the shores of Lake Ootopaheeda to find an Indian 

 known to the whites as John Moore, who had been re- 

 commended to him as a representative man among the 

 Sioux, and one who spoke English well. He consulted 

 with him in regard to obtaining a guide and partner, who 

 should be reliable and thoroughly versed in the knowl- 

 edge of the best trapping grounds, offering at the same 

 time terms of partnership more favorable than any Sioux 

 had probably ever heard of before ; when the Indian turned 

 and after a short consultation with a fine-looking young 

 Indian standing near, replied: "My brother, she go with 

 you if you want." (John's English was not perfect, and 

 he invariably spoke of a man as "she" and of a woman 

 as "he.") "But," added the Indian, "my brother want to 

 take she's wife with she." 



This part of the contract was something unexpected, 

 and seeing the hesitation and disappointment pictured in 

 the white man's face, the Sioux hastened to add, "You 

 not he 'fraid of he; he do you good; he pitch your tent, 

 he cook you grub; he pay he's way, you bet!" 



Hoping still for some way out of the dilemma, Isaac 

 asked: "What if the woman refuses to go with him?" 



"Oh," replied the Indian, "my brother tell he to go, he 

 go, you bet!" 



As there was no help for it, and as he did not feel at 

 liberty to go further into the Sioux country without an 

 Indian partner and guide, my brother at length with 

 many misgivings agreed, although fearful of the success 

 of so strange a partnership. Not one word could the In- 

 dian or his wife speak, while my brother had yet to mas- 

 ter the first word of the Sioux language. They proved to 

 be perfectly honest, skillful and industrious — in short, a 

 lady and a gentleman in the very truest sense; and al- 

 though their conversation proved a difficult art to 

 acquire, still, as each was put upon his mettle, the result 

 was that each learned of the language of the other vastly 

 more than would have been possible under the tuition of 

 any other master than stern necessity. A very success- 

 ful trip was the result, and my brother's half of the fur 

 amounted to a trifle over 1,000 rats, with other furs in 

 proportion. He was taken far out into the entirely new 

 ground in Dakota, which had not before been visited by 

 white trappers, and his success was the natural result of 

 the skillful and industrious use of the splendid outfit of 

 150 traps which he carried. 



Returning home with his load of fur he was imme- 

 diately beset by a swarm of his old trapping cronies, 

 eager to learn where so fine a load of furs had been ob- 

 tained. Without any hesitation he replied : "If you wish 

 to go where I have been, go first to Lake Oo-top-a-hee'-dah, 

 then to Kah-ka-dah'-ko,then to Shian-k®t'-ton,then to Kah- 

 ka-hah'-kosoo-kah'-ko, then to Shoog-o-wah'-kee-hoop-ah- 

 itch-itch-ah'-kah, then to — " "Oh, the devil!" interjected 

 a listener; "we don't know as much now as when you 

 began;" and when my brother off ered to make it all plain 

 in English to any one who, after five minutes' trial, would 

 pronounce correctly the name of the last mentioned lake, 

 they were obliged to acknowlede themselves beaten and 

 allow him to keep his secret unmolested. These jaw- 

 I breaking words are the veritable Indian names for a 

 string of lakes of which we never heard any other desig- 

 nation. 



The year following, having concluded to trap the new- 

 found grounds together, we started in August in order to 

 be early on the ground, and first driving to Oo-top-a-hee- 

 dah, I there made the acquaintance of the Indian friends 

 of my brother, and found John Moore to be quite a char- 

 acter. He hailed our coming with joyful demonstrations, 

 and invited us to the dinner of elk meat, boiled with an 

 edible root found on all those northern prairies, which 

 was just spread out before a group of a dozen Sioux at 

 the moment of our arrival; and while I cared for the team 

 and pitched the teepee, my brother accepted the hospitable 

 invitation, and, returning to the wagon, pronounced the 

 dinner perfect. 



John and his wife having in return been invited to take 

 supper with us, my brother added: "Now, John, we have 

 both tea and coffee; which does your wife like best?" "My 

 wife he like all the time the best coffee; he's the devil for 

 coffee!" replied John. 



Quite a crowd gathered to take supper with the white 

 visitors, and with plenty of sugar in their coffee and a 

 plug of the white man's tobacco to fill their pipes after- 

 ward, all were put in the best of humor, and a pleasant 

 evening followed, while John acted as interpreter for all. 



The next morning, when ready to move on, we asked 

 John to tell us what to say when we wished to learn the 

 Indian name of anything from the wandering Sioux we 

 were likely to meet. In other words, how to say "what 

 do you call it?" in Sioux. 



"You must say, 1 tah- qua-dealt- che'apa? replied John. 

 And we found this little question of great value many 

 times afterward. 



For the sake of any possible lady readers, of the 

 "woman's rights" persuasion, I must not omit John's 

 opinion of women in general, which he kindly favored ua 

 with during the camp-fire chat of the evening before. 

 "Injun woman he the best woman," said John; "he pitch 

 you tent, he skin you rat, he cook you grub, he dress you 

 i'ur; he, the best woman of all. Dutch woman he the next 

 best." John had visited a German settlement and had 



