Jan. i, idoi.j 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



4*71 



ing an angle in the canon he came face to face with the 

 object of his search, standing not 80yds. away. 



A quick shot broke the under jaw of the beast and with 

 a growl of pain away went the bear, closely pursued by 

 the dog up the trail that led to the plain above. Raymond 

 followed as quickly as possible, and on emerging from 

 the canon, found that dog and bear had disappeared in 

 one of the caves that are quite common in that section, 

 This particular one was nothing more than a sink in the 

 ground perhaps sixty feet deep, having a very steep slant 

 and terminating in a, kind of tunnel. Down in this hole 

 Ray could hear the dog and bear having what may best 

 be described as a monkey and parrot time, but owing to 

 the branching off at the bottom, he was unable to see 

 what was going on. Not wishing to have the dog killed, 

 for he valued it highly, down he slid to the bottom of the 

 slope and entered the cavity. What followed I had best 

 let him describe in his own language. "As soon as I got 

 to the bottom of the slope I cocked my gun # and carefully 

 peeped around the rock, intending to fire from where I 

 stood, but the cave turned off at an angle and there was 

 nothing to do but go right in. So in I went and was 

 greeted by a terrific rush from the. bear, which turned me 

 heels over head, knocking the rifle out of my hands and 

 breaking the stock against the rocks. I managed to 

 regain my feet and then the ball opened, and Bose 

 and the bear had a right lively time of it for a little 

 while. I saw that he could not bite on account of his 

 broken jaw, and when he rushed on me I grabbed him 

 and we tiissled together like man and man; then Bose 

 came in on the rear and drew his attention while I tried 

 to climb back up the slope, but it was very steep and 

 the sand slipped from under rny feet so that I could not 

 make much headway; and before I was half out the bear 

 was on me and down we rolled together to the bottom of 

 the pit. 



"Seeing that it would be of no use trying to get out. I 

 faced about and put up the best fight I knew how. We 

 had a regular boxing match: he would slug me and over 

 I would go, then I'd hit him and in his turn down he would 

 roll, but the beast was so confoundedly quick on the re- 

 cover that I never had a chance to reach the gun barrel 

 before he was again on me. Every time he would strike me 

 his claws would cut through my clothing and into my 

 flesh, and I was soon blood from head to foot. At last he 

 caught me across the face, and I was so blinded with 

 blood that he got the advantage, and grabbing me around 

 the body began what came pretty near being a death 

 hug. 1 was too played out to offer much resistance, and 

 guess the jig would have been up if it hadn't been for old 

 Bose coming up in the rear and nipping the bear in the 

 flank. This made him drop me, and he got the dog in a 

 corner and grabbing him squeezed the life out of the poor 

 beast, but it gave me time to reach the barrel of my 

 broken gun, and as he came at me the last time I brought 

 the steel down with all my remaining strength upon his 

 head. That settled him, but I continued to rain blows as 

 long as there was the least sign of life. Poor old Bose 

 was stone dead, with his teeth clenched in the cold meat 

 of his enemy, and I, dripping with sweat and blood, had 

 just time to crawl out of the hole when I fainted. When 

 I came to it was night and the fight I had to keep from 

 freezing to death was almost as bad as the circus with the 

 bear. I can tell you I was mighty glad to see you riding 

 by, but it took every last living bit of strength that was 

 left in me to hail* loud enough to get you to look my 

 way." 



Several years have passed since that event, Raymond 

 has at last'joined the majority— no, not died, but married 

 — and is, or rather was, living in a one-roomed rock 

 cabin, every etone of which was hewn and set by his own 

 hands, and which stands on the cliffs of one of the remote 

 headwaters of the Brazos. It is not very far from the 

 spot where his famous fight occurred, and is in the region 

 where, in the wild days of the frontier, we, so to speak, 

 "fit, bled and died together." I visited him a year or so 

 ago. There are two or three young Brooks now, sturdy 

 young fellows that give promise of emulating then- 

 father's mighty deeds, and in the evenings we would all 

 sit around the big fireplace, crouched on the skin of that 

 very bear that came so near making an end of the chapter 

 before it was well started. 



What a man Raymond was! I have passed my life 

 among college athletes and frontiersmen, but I can re- 

 member no one who ever approached him in point of 

 strength. He was six feet four inches in height and 

 weighed two hundred and tweny-five pounds, every 

 ounce of which was solid muscle. To this strength and 

 his brave heart, aided by the devotion of the hound Bose, 

 must be attributed his victory over the bear. No un- 

 armed man is a match for an uninjured bear, and it is 

 very probable that had the first shot, which broke the 

 beast's jaw, been less fortunately placed, the tragedy of 

 Bear vs. Ray would have had another termination. 



Alex. M. Reynolds. 



Seattle, Wash., June 5, 1890. 



AN ADIRONDACK OUTING. 



ON Aug. 25, with my wife and two boys, aged two 

 and four years, we boarded the 8 A. M. train at 

 Canton, N. Y. A change at Philadelphia, another at 

 Carthage, and at 12:20 we were at "the Crossing," or 

 Oswegatchie. A stage ride of three miles brought us to 

 Star Lake. Here are two hotels and quite a number of 

 cottages of more or less pretention. I owned one of them, 

 but when they erected a hotel within 100ft. of my house 

 I thought it was too thickly settled and sold out. 



Star- Lake is quite a summer resort, the lake being a very 

 fine body of water and very irregular in shape, as its 

 name indicates. It is about two miles in its longest line 

 and has some six miles of shore line. Its general depth 

 is 20 to 25ft. , but it has its shallow bays with sand and 

 stony bottom and in one place the bottom is found at a 

 depth of over 75ft. It is fed mostly by springs and has a 

 hardly visible outlet. 



The afternoon of our arrival was spent in getting rested 

 and looking after a team to take us on to the "Inlet." 

 The next morning at 8 o'clock we left the lake, one team 

 took our boat (a 15x30 Canadian model) and baggage, the 

 other ourselves. The latter rig was a buckboard, though 

 to stand the rough road it had to be very heavy and the 

 spring was not enough to speak of. One mile of good 

 road and we turned into an old clearing, thence into the 

 forest. For two miles the road was so that we could 

 keep our seats by a vigorous use of both hands and feet. 

 Then Madame said "Let me walk," and 4-year-old Harry 



said "Me too." I had to keep to the wagon and hold the 

 2-year-old. I've toted a oOlbs. pack over this road, and 

 it was fun compared with this ride. Everything has an 

 end, and at 10:30 we arrived at Stern burg's on the Inlet. 

 Sternburg's is a quiet little hotel. Nearly new, and 

 though unpainted, is clean and neat. The' house will 

 accommodate about thirty people, and is a halting place 

 for those bound further into the woods. From half a 

 dozen to twenty were about the number of guests during 

 our stay; and each day saw its arrivals and departures. 

 The house is well kept and guests are made as comfort- 

 able as possible. 



On the afternoon of our arrival it rained, and the five 

 succeeding days were more or less off the same piece. 

 Madame and the children kept pretty close to the house, 

 but I went fishing more or less. The water was high and 

 there was no hunting on the river. However, the house 

 was well supplied, as Mr. S. and his stalwart son and 

 son-in-law are all good hunters. The Monday following 

 our arrival was bright and warm, and I took a tramp 

 up the Albany road some three infles, hunting ruffed 

 grouse— or partridge as we call them. At this place on 

 the road a brook crosses and there is a little beaver 

 meadow, alders and an old camp ground, grown up to a 

 thicket of birch, spruce and briers. I found no birds and 

 pushed on up the brook to another little patch of grass 

 some thirty rods above. Coming out from behind the 

 trunk and roots of an upturned tree I stopped within 

 three or four rods of a small oblong piece of tall grass 

 nearly surrounded by alders. Something red, with white 

 spots on it, below the tops of the grass, attracted my 

 attention. The first thought what is it? The next it is a 

 fawn. Just then it raised its head. For the next ten 

 seconds there was pantomime on both sides. I broke open 

 my gun, pulled out the fine shot shells and %vent for my 

 pocket for a shell loaded with buckshot. Out in the 

 grass another fawn put \ip its head, the old doe stuek 

 hers up out of the alders at one side and all three bounded 

 away. 



Well, I came hunting for partridge— not for deer, be- 

 sides it is against the law to shoot a spotted fawn, and it 

 would be too bad to have killed the mother doe and broken 

 up such a happy family. So after the first moment of re- 

 gret I am glad that my gun was loaded with fine shot. 



Patiently I hunted every foot of ground, but only saw 

 two birds, and they flushed wild. As one parted the 

 thick undergrowth of the camp ground I followed it with 

 a charge of shot. Not knowing whether I had hit it or 

 not 1 followed. It was on a side hill, the ground plenti- 

 fully strewn with old half-decayed logs, and I had to look 

 sharp to my footing to avoid an ugly tumble. I reached 

 the place where I last saw the bird and looked for bird or 

 feathers. Seeing neither I raised my head, and on a dry 

 limb not fifteen feet from my face sat the bird; but as my 

 eyes touched her she was off like a rocket. So long as I 

 was not looking toward her she let me approach almost 

 near enough to touch her. An hour more of hard hunting 

 gave me but one bird, and I returned to the hotel more 

 tired from my tramp than I cared to own. 



Several fine days followed, and on one of them madame, 

 children and myself followed up the river some five 

 miles, and ate our dinner on a large rock overlooking the 

 alder meadow. Near this rock thirty to forty years ago 

 one Charles Marsh had a trapping shanty. Wolves and 

 panthers were quite plenty in those days and Marsh used 

 to trap them. One day he landed at the foot of the rock 

 and leaving the carcasses of a deer and a fox in his boat 

 he went back a few rods to set a trap. Stooping down at 

 his work he heard a little move near his boat, but saying 

 to himself, "Steve has come up the river and is trying to 

 scare me," he went on with his work without looking up. 

 Presently, however, a fierce yell brought him to his feet, 

 and he saw standing on the rock looking down at his boat 

 and gun a full-grown panther. At a startled cry from 

 Marsh the animal vanished in the bushes. 



This meadow is a mixture of alder beds and tall grass, 

 and may be three miles long by nearly a mile wide. The 

 river is very crooked and its course through the meadow 

 would probably measure five or six miles. This is the best 

 hunting ground on the river, and fishing for small trout 

 is very good. During our run down I held the boat and 

 madame fished, catching about forty, the largest being a 

 better one than I caught on the whole trip. 1 thought so 

 at the time, and have heard it so stated since my return. 

 Well, madame took kindly to the sport and only falling 

 darkness could induce her to lay aside the rod. And 

 "the kids" enjoyed it too. The other guests were duly 

 informed, "My mamma caught a whole lot of trout." 



The wet weather interfered sadly with the sport, though 

 I got in several good days' fishing and hunted two nights 

 without seeing or hearing anything. In a day or two our 

 outing would be over; and I had not killed a deer. So 

 one fine morning, with George Nunn in the stern, we 

 paddled up the river some twelve miles and fished down. 

 Under a flood wood I got a glimpse of a broad red side and 

 a strong tug at the hook. Too eager, I struck: and 

 though I pricked I did not hold my fish. Then I spent a 

 full hour trying to tempt the prize to take a variety of 

 tempting baits. No use; so we left him. How long was 

 he? I don't know, but the week previous a party caught 

 three at this place weighing respectively If, 2i and 3*lbs. 

 When we had caught enough fish we landed, built a "fire, 

 and cooked and ate until we were satisfied. Then we 

 took to the boat again, and dusk found us with a goodly 

 number of fish at Government Camp. Here we landed, 

 got supper and waited for dark. It was a splendid night, 

 dark, still and warm. 



Taking off my boots, I wrapped my feet and legs in a 

 heavy blanket and settled down to business. Up the 

 river we went some two miles. Then after waiting half 

 an hour we started down stream. Mile after mile was 

 passed over with no sound of game. About 1 o'clock, and 

 just above the rock referred to, Nunn turned the bow of 

 the boat into a shallow cove. Back at the further end I 

 see a white bunch in the grass. It has no particular 

 shape, and may be only a bunch of grass; but I am sus- 

 picious, and watch it. Directly two bright spots appear 

 near the water and are raised as the deer raises its head. 

 It is too far away for a sure shot, and as I whisper to 

 Nunn, who has not seen it, to push the boat ahead, there 

 is a splash and a crash and the game is away. 



Again we drift on by the mile and hour. We are now 

 but little over a mile 'from home and but a quarter of a 

 mile above a large camp. Just here is a chance, however, 

 for there is a small cove on the right, a large one on the 

 left, and just below the latter, with a narrow tongue of 

 land between, is the outlet of Otter Pond, here spreading 



-iisconctu, <v-. _ 



out two or three rods wide; the bank covered with thick 

 alders near the mouth, but a little further back spreading 

 out in grass marsh. 



Nunn hears a deer on the left, and the boat glides 

 slowly and silently down the stream. Directly we can 

 see the upper cove, but no deer. Now we are passing 

 the cove on the right, and there is heard splash, splash at 

 our side, and then behind us, and out goes a deer. Fol- 

 lowing that immediately is a plunge in the mouth of the 

 brook, and we know that the deer on the left had been 

 alarmed and started out. 



Quick work, now, or no game. A couple of quick, 

 hard strokes of the paddle and the bow of the boat rushes 

 past the point, and I can see up the brook. 



In the center of it is a dark object. I have been in it 

 before and know this is the deer. She is standing quar- 

 tering from us and looking some other way; so I do not 

 see the eyes. 



The gun has been brought to a ready, and now it 

 touches the shoulder. A glance along the barrel shows 

 it where it should be and the trigger is pressed. From 

 mountain to mountain the report roars and rolls, and 

 when the echoes have died away we hear a kicking in 

 the aiders a couple of rods from the shore. 



"You have got her," says Nunn, "though you shot so 

 quick I thought you had missed. I did not see the deer 

 at all." 



"I had to shoot quick. That deer had started to go and 

 only stopped an instant to see what was coming." 



A few minutes' search among the grass and alders found 

 a very large doe dead. We loaded her into the boat and 

 paddled quickly home. As we hung her up daylight was 

 breaking in the east. 



The next day we left the inlet, coming out by Ben- 

 son's Mines, a much better as well as shorter road. 



And now I would like to add a few words on jack hunt- 

 ing, my favorite method. This is the usual method of 

 killing deer early in the season, and so much is against it. 

 There are ways to prevent that, and an active man can 

 "salt" with sulphur every watering place for miles around; 

 and this repeated occasionally will keep deer from water- 

 ing and to a great extent prevent that kind of killing. 



But let us suppose that it is Aug. 15 and we have a right 

 to kill. The law-makers are willing we should kill as 

 we please so long as our method is not cruel nor too des- 

 tructive. Killing is killing, and I do not suppose it 

 makes any difference to a dead deer whether it dropped 

 to a shot from a still-hunter or by jack-light. What we 

 want is to give the game a chance. Let us see what its 

 chances are in floating. First, natural chances. 



The shore area of stream, pond and lake is but a small 

 percentage of the whole woods. Many ponds and streams 

 have little or no feed and deer do not water there. This 

 then limits the hunting ground of the jack-hunter to a 

 very small territory. 



Again, hunter and deer must meet at one time and 

 place. You cover miles and miles and of all the deer 

 that come to the shore you see but one, perhaps, because 

 not at the right place at the right time. Deer are not 

 likely to come to water on cold or rainy nights. On 

 windy nights they scent you long before you get within 

 sight. On foggy nights you cannot 3ee and on moon- 

 light nights the game can see you. 



Now, don't you see that from natural causes we bring 

 the jack hunter into very narrow limits? 



Some say it requires no skill to kill a deer this way; 

 that the guide does it all. The guide must do bis part; he 

 must propel the boat in absolute silence; no matter 

 whether the current is swift, or grass, sticks and lily pads 

 obstruct. But the hunter must also do his part, or the 

 most skillful guide will not avail. The light is uncertain 

 and he must many times guess where to aim. Hundred's 

 of shots are fired without result. The guide has his pay, 

 the hunter his chagrin, and the deer a good scare that 

 makes him harder for the next man to approach. It is a 

 fact that if a pond or stream is hunted much the deer 

 become "educated," and the average hunter might as 

 well roll in his blankets and go to sleep as to hunt. 



As regards so many being wounded and escaping, I 

 think the stories are overdrawn. I have hunted off and 

 on for thirty years. I have perhaps killed fifty deer, 

 most of them with the jack. I can count some clean 

 misses, but not half a dozen wounded that escaped. If a 

 deer is hit at all hard, a good guide can follow the trail and 

 the deer is pretty sure to be found and killed. 



We have this positive evidence, where hounds are used 

 deer become scarce; where dogs are not used, all the "float- 

 ing" does no harm, though some of it is done early in the 

 season. 



By this I do not mean I approve, of early hunting. I 

 believe in living up to the law, and I maintain that jack- 

 hunting after Aug. 15 is not more destructive than the 

 natural increase of game will permit. J, H. R. 



( 'axtox, N. Y. 



THEY LOVE THE MUSIC. 



HUNTINGTON, W. Va., Dec. 22.— Fox chasing in W. 

 Va, however others may regard it, I call it a 

 strange sport, if sport it may be" called, that is sometimes 

 engaged in here. To call it hunting may be a misnomer. 

 It is engaged in only by those having a fine musical ear: 

 I mean the ear that can appreciate the symphonic baying 

 of the pursuing pack howling over hill and dale, now 

 near now far away. Not only do the more common 

 class, but the elite of the town take interest in the sport. 

 I have seen them with their hounds, without a gun with 

 them, go over the river into Ohio as the sun was setting, 

 to enjoy their royal sport. Why without a gun? ask you. 

 Just to sit down, perhaps by a fire and let off the dogs 

 and wait for the music, which of course begins as soon as 

 the dogs strike a trail. Whether the fox is caught they 

 know not, they care not: but is the concert good? To 

 them it doubtless is. But give me grouse, woodcock and 

 quail shooting and they may have their sylvan canine 

 concerts. I want to see the chips fly when I chop the 

 wood . Quite a few foxes are hunted , the huntsmen riding 

 on horses pell mell, in ye olden style, and "nary a gun 

 wid em," and he loses caste whb dares to Are upon 

 reynard at such times. 



There is a queer custom here of trailing a dead fox 

 through the streets of a city on Christmas or New Year's 

 day. The man who trails the fox rides belter skelter 

 through town , up one street and down another/ Presently 

 a pack of hounds is put on track and follows the trail 

 with great gusto — with all the eagerness and uproar that 

 might be expected in a "live" hunt in a veritable forest. 



N. D, Elting, 



