4 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan. 7, 1893- 



eraf t and innate sense ef direction to guide us, were it 

 twice the distance, and I had no fear of my own power 

 of endurance. 



Sleeping out of doors was a common thing for me — in 

 fact, in decently warm weather 1 slept rather more out 

 than in. Small game was so abundant that it would have 

 been almost a miracle had we failed to kill enough to eat. 

 As a general thing we avoided the public roads — which, 

 indeed, were ''few and far between" — but occasionally 

 we struck an outlying farmhouse, where we were always 

 hospitably welcomed, given a good square meal, and our 

 rations of bread replenished by the Mnd-hearted women- 

 folks, though sometimes they looked askance at the hue 

 of my dusky companion. Our trip, which was made in 

 about three weeks, was devoid of any startling incident, 

 except being caught once in a small cyclone, when we 

 had to crawl under an immense prostrate oak (which, 

 fortunately, lay at right angles to the storm) for shelter 

 from the falling boughs. The Cedar and Skunk Rivers 

 we crossed at ferries, shaping our course to strike such 

 points, while the smaller streams presented no obstacles, 

 as we could swim like ducks, and, with the aid of Hawk- 

 eye's tomahawk a light raft was easily constructed, on 

 whice we ferried over our arms and clothes. On the 

 whole,when we tramped into Des Moines, then a straggling 

 village of two or three hundred, I did not feel that we 

 had accomplished any very remarkable feat, and was 

 somewhat astonished at the wonder and surprise with 

 which the news of our journey was greeted. The lioniz- 

 ing which we received was not, perhaps, very great, but 

 it was sufficiently so to disgust Hawkeye, who the second 

 day suddenly disappeared and made his way back 

 alone. 



There was one person, though, who took a different 

 view of our performance, and that was my father. He 

 looked upon it merely as the perverse freak of a disobedi- 

 ent boy, and in a private interview, through the medium 

 of a stout beech switch, impressed this point of view upon 

 me so strongly that I was fain to yield to the force of his 

 arguments and allow myself to be convinced. To cap 

 the climax, instead of being allowed to remain and spend 

 the winter in trapping and hunting, as I had fondly ex- 

 pected, I was shipped ignominiously back in charge of a 

 farmer who was taking a load of wheat to the river, and 

 was delivered to my uncle like a stray bale of goods, or a 

 runaway apprentice. 



I suspect the good old man was none too glad to see me 

 back, for, with my G-ipsy instincts and Indian camarade- 

 rie, I must have been a thorn in the side of one who had 

 lived from the time of his birth till his hair was gray 

 in the orderly bosom of New England Puritanism and 

 Mayflower respectability. 



One other reminiscence of "us boys," and I am done. 

 But first, I must preface it by a little sketch, dating back 

 but a few years. In the capital of one of our great central 

 commonwealths, the State Bench and Bar Association are 

 holding their annual banquet. In the city there happens 

 to be at the time a certain person, "not unconnected with 

 professional pursuits," from another State, and who. hav- 

 ing devoted some of his time to the study of toxicology, 

 had been called as an expert witness not iong before in a 

 case of suspected poisoning, tried in that very city. Hav- 

 ing been recognized by some of the bar who were engaged 

 in the trial, he has been invited to the banquet, and is 

 present in his capacity as guest. After the regular (oasts 

 are over, this trial, which has become somewhat of a 

 cause celebre, is mentioned, aud the guest is oalled upon 

 to give liis views upon a certain mooted point in medical 

 .jurisprudence. Having done so, and about to take his 

 seat, a portly form (unknown to him until a kind friend 

 at his left murmurs, "The Chief Justice") arises at the 

 head of the table, and with a courtly bow, says: "1 have 

 listened with much delight and satisfaction to the very 

 able and lucid exposition of the point iu question as 

 given by our learned friend and distinguished guest: but 

 there is one point which is not yet clear to me, and on 

 which I would tax his courtesy for a clearer light." The 

 "distinguished guest" with an awkward attempt at return- 

 ing the polished bow of the other, murmurs, "certainly, 

 it will afford him great pleasure to answer, so far as may 

 lie in his power, any question that his learned friend may 

 feel inclined to ask." 'Whereupon the C. J. continues: 

 "It is a question which I ask pardon, in advance, for 

 putting, and nothing but my own eager desire for in- 

 formation, upon the one hand and the widespread repu- 

 tation for learning and courtesy borne by our dis- 

 tinguished guest upon the other, could be plead in bar of 

 the seeming intrusiveness. and, I fear you will add, mor- 

 bid curiosity which I am about to exhibit. The question 

 is this," and here, leaning over the table, amid the hushed 

 silence of the whole room, he asks, alowly and impres- 

 sively, "Hen, what do you think of the Cninese method, 

 of catching ducks by pumpkins?" 



What followed is "not germane to our story; it only re- 

 main? to explain the reason for such a question. We 

 had been boys together in Muscatine, and on one occasion 

 had gone down to the island duck hunting. The ducks 

 were there, but alas! they had all congregated in the 

 center of a big pond, so far from shore as to be out of gun 

 shot. 



Various plans were discussed for getting them, but 

 none seemed feasible, till Dick, who was a great reader, 

 broached one which he had seen in some cyclopedias or 

 missionary report. He told how the Chinese would cut 

 a hole in" a pumpkin large enough to admit the head, 

 scoop out the inside, cut a hole to see through, and don- 

 ning the pumpkin like a helmet, made out into the pond, 

 keeping the body under water. The unsuspecting ducks 

 seeing no danger in so harmless a thing as a floating 

 pumpkin, would remain quiescent till the "heathen 

 Chinee" could gather them by the legs and yank them 

 under water. With the divine faith of boyhood, we 

 deemed the scheme practicable, and as there were some 

 pumpkins in a neighboring field, proceeded to act upon 

 our belief. As Dick could not swim, I was chosen to do 

 the "yanking" act, for, though the pond was generally 

 shallow, there might be unsuspected holes. Clad in 

 nature's garb, plus the pumpkin, I waded out, but the 

 ducks perversely refused to act their part as set down in 

 the play. They did not fly, but warily kept such a dis- 

 tance that I would have needed the arm of a Brohding- 

 nag to reach them. After a hour or so of futile effort, I 

 waded ashore to find myself covered from head to foot 

 with ravenous black leeches, and my back and shoulders 

 burned raw by the sun, while Dick added insult to injury 

 by answering that "nobody but a darned fool would be- 

 lieve such a story anyhow." H. P. TT. 



TROUT CUNNING. 



THE qualities which constitute the zest of the angler's 

 delight and of the sportsman generally, is but little 

 known to the boy. The latter is essentially a pot-hunter 

 and fishes for the frying pan. Not that the exercise of 

 his skill in taking his trophies from stream or wood 

 affords him less intense pleasure than similar captures 

 give his father, but his pleasure has a more direct refer- 

 ence to those of the table. 



Propose to the urchin a quest for quadruped or bird, 

 root, bark or fruit, and the question that instinctively 

 arises is, "Is it good to eat?" The savage man advances 

 no further than this, and indeed a large proportion of 

 civilized men occupy the same status. A farmer of my 

 acquaintance destroyed one of the most prolific little 

 trout streams I ever knew by diverting the current for 

 days at a time during successive years in order to get all 

 the large fish. Hundreds of small trout were left unpro- 

 tected in the shallow pools to become a feast for the 

 kingfishers and their other enemies. A French physiolo- 

 gist has remarked that "hunger and love are the powers 

 that move the world." All our motives of action, intri- 

 cate and of infinite variety, as they seem, are but bifur- 

 cations and subdivisions of the two. 



During boyhood and early youth the writer caught 

 move trout with his hands, snare and spear than by 

 means of hook and line. Through the long, narrow val- 

 ley where those years were paesed flows a considerable 

 stream, which during the spring and early summer 

 months teemed with trout through all its course. From 

 every transverse fold in the hills flowed down a small 

 stream. Often during the hot season beds of dry stones 

 marked these smaller water; courses in their passage 

 through the cleared fields. Winding around in the hol- 

 low of the hills, in some cases for miles, under the dense 

 forest shade, a small flow of water connected the pools, 

 in some of which scores of trout subsisted. They were 

 continually passing from one pool to another, and in 

 doing so were often surprised by a solitary urchin who 

 used to resort thither to capture the savory food for 

 which his palate yearned. These places were often the 

 scenes of contests in which the. trout were more fre- 

 quently winners than almost any one at first sight would 

 suppose. 



The brook trout is a creature of great intelligence. The 

 ability with which he can navigate a water course in 

 which there is water to speak of, is something truly won- 

 derful to behold. If he is shy he is sly, as is shown by 

 bis behavior when surprised in course of transit over a 

 shallow place. Silently settling beside a stone he will 

 remain immovable for several minutes, but the instant 

 one's eye rests upon him he darts away, almost invariably 

 going down stream. In his shoots and plunges he rarely 

 strands himself, and if a deep pool be near at hand it is 

 folly to try to intercept him. 



Two of the largest brook trout I ever caught were taken 

 with a spear. In a former article I have described the 

 rude tackle with which I was wont to tempt "a rise" in 

 those days. It will readily be admitted that my success 

 as an angler couid not have been calculated to encourage 

 that mode of catching fish, f had almost incredible 

 fondness for the savory trout, the red flaky flesh of which 

 was perhaps the most familiar reminder of my early 

 home on the Pacific Coast. As late as the early sixties 

 the south fork of the Sacramento, the Auicriein River, 

 contained pleuty of salmon. Sometimes a Digger 

 Indian would appear at the kitchen window with a 

 splendid fish, almost before it had ceased to palpitate, 

 for which, whether it weighed eight, twelve or fifteen 

 pounds, he demanded the uniform priea of fifty cents. 

 Very often miners captured stray salmon iu their race- 

 ways, flumes and even smaller sluices. It was natural, 

 therefore, that my favorite way of catching a brook 

 trout was to enter his own proper element and there do 

 battle with him. 



One July morning, when I was supposed to be dili- 

 gently spreading hay, the mowers being out of sight, I 

 thought I would take a look at the trout in a deep reek- 

 bottom hole hi the large brook which flowed near at 

 hand. Near the head of this deep pool a small stream of 

 cold spring water entered the brook. Here, in the shade 

 of an overhanging tree, trout delighted to pass their 

 leisure hours. It had been a dry season ; above and below 

 the pool the flow of water was meagre. A few small 

 trout may have been visible at the usual place but they 

 did not interest me. I was about to return to my work 

 when, in an opening among the roots of the large tree, 

 through which the spring water was flowing, I perceived 

 what I then certainly thought the largest trout I had ever 

 seen. The head, with a portion of the back sufficient to 

 exhibit the broad dorsal fin, was visible. The fish had 

 partially turned, aud I momentarily expected to see him 

 dash for the deep water. However, he did not move and 

 I retreated and began industriously to erect a barricade 

 across the large brook just above the point where pursuit 

 was hopeless. I took pains that there should be no ac- 

 commodating chinks in the wall, which I raised nearly a 

 foot above the water before advancing on the enemy. I 

 think he knew what I was about, for no sooner had I 

 stepped aside than he darted forward and shot over the 

 wall, landing in deep water four feet beyond. 



This Remus-like performance astounded as well as pro- 

 voked me. I thought I had the trout, "A moment and 

 he was gone." I returned to my work disheartened and 

 tried to make up for lost time. Just before noon it oc- 

 curred to me that if I should take down the barrier the 

 trout would, at least during the succeeding night, return 

 to the colder water. Judge my astonishment at finding 

 the trout in the original position between the roots. The 

 sound of the dinner horn led to the resolution to bring 

 my spear before disturbing him. After hastily eating 

 dinner I quickly returned. The trout was in the same 

 position; cautiously advancing from behind I held the 

 spear perpendicularly over his head. I trembled with 

 excitement && I lunged downward, and instead of striking 

 him fairly through the gills as I expected, one outer tine 

 penetrated the extreme end of his snout. The tough 

 cartilage held and I exhibited my trophy in triumph at 

 the house before the others had risen from the table. 



On the route to school was the ubiquitous dugway, the 

 brook having forced the roadway into the base of the 

 hill. Between the road and the brook several trees had 

 grown, and the bank here was a mass of roots and drift- 

 wood, among which trout had a cool retreat. I never 

 pass the place on foot without peering into the water. 

 One morning— it may have been later in the same season 



— I perceived a trout lying in the most secluded spot 

 among the roots. He was, if anything, larger than the 

 one above described. Mazy and forbidding as the place 

 appeared there was not a stone, cranny or roost that I had 

 not touched and probed. I would have that trout. The 

 water was shallow, and any attempt for him to leave 

 the place would be to flop out of the frying-pan into the 

 fire. 



I kept secluded until the last of my school fellows had 

 passed, and then set to work in dead earnest. No ow 

 can ever realize the gaminess of a large brook trout until 

 he tries to catch him under such circumstances. For at 

 least four mortal hours that trout evaded me. I bumped 

 my shins over the stones, tore my clothes among the 

 roots, splashed headlong on my face in the water in my 

 efforts to get him. By noon the place wore a new aspect. 

 I had rolled innumerable stones out of the water and 

 cleared out half the driftwood. At first he would secret 

 himself and remain invisible for a half hour at a tim< ; 

 but this at length I made impossible. At the noon hour 

 he remained a much-badgered but still unconquered fish. 

 I was exhausted, and solaced myself with the contents 

 of my dinner-pail. My clothes were as wet as a mop and 

 about as tattered. I dared go neither home nor to school, 

 so during most of the afternoon I sat eyeing that trout 

 with hostile interest and rueful aspect. I schemed and 

 devised unavailingly, since I could not come at him. 



As the day wore on I determined to go home and get 

 my spear. I put in an appearance as soon after 4 o'clock 

 as permissible", and concealing my soaked and bedraggled 

 condition as well as I could, I explained that there wan 

 a monster trout down at the dugway which I could cap 

 tore iu just about a minute. I hastened back fearful 

 lest any one else might appear on the scene. When I 

 returned the trout was not in sight. I walked up and 

 down in the water in tearful disappointment. At length , 

 the sobs choking in my throat, I sat on a stone and be- 

 gan looking wistfully among the roots. To my exceed- 

 ing joy I caught a glimpse of scarlet and gold and drove 

 my spear into the victim's side as he lay behind a root. 



Sctuvan County, New York. B. F. HENLEY. 



PENNSYLVANIA DAYS. 



V\7 HEN I waa a bo—. (No! I don't mean that, for 



V T though I have seen a few rare samples of noble, 

 manly boys in my life, about nineteen out of ten are the 

 concentration of all manner of cunning and meanness. 

 The people of China drown the girl babies, but I'd re- 

 verse that order of things and drown all the other kind 

 before they had time to be boys.) I should scorn the in- 

 sinuation that I ever was a boy; but when I was a young 

 man— from 5 to 15— and ran loose around the Pennsylva- 

 nia hills along the banks of the Delaware River, life was 

 as bubbling as a bottle of bock beer, and though there 

 has been but little of my life that I wish to repeat, 1 have 

 often wished that I could be placed where I was then, 

 with everything precisely as it was in those early days. 

 Pike Agaiy'I once was young but now am old," and thy 

 memory for present things is failing, but every atom of 

 the scenery along that lovely river is as fresh iu my 

 memory as if I'd seen it but an hour ago. 



The crystal river, with its clear and pebbly shore 

 fringed with trees from its sources to the bay, was as full 

 of fish as Fulton Market, and as the country then was 

 comparatively wild, great flocks of ducks were constantly 

 flying or feedingalong the shore, with but few to molest 

 them or make them afraid. 



That beautiful little black and white duck, the "butter 

 ball," came up the river iu swarms in stormy weather, 

 but where are they now? I have not seen one for more 

 than thirty years. Almost every kind of duck was sum- 

 times seen, and it did not even occur to me that such u 

 state of things would ever change. Those were heavpnlv 

 days, that I did not then appreciate, but which I wouhi 

 now enjoy as the noble i'ed man of the past is probably 

 now enjoying the pleasures of his happy hunting grounds. 

 Then were the woods alive with partridges and quail, and 

 woodcock were scattered about in jjrorniseuous multi- 

 tudes through every piece of woodland, while everjr foot 

 of soil that was damp enongh for an alder bush or a, wil- 

 low tree was a breeding ground. I remember one day 

 killing a fine old cock with the same sort of ammunition 

 that David used on that big bully of Gath. 



Few and lucky were the sportsmen there who thought 

 of firing at a moving mark, and when in my rabbit 

 rambles I flushed a woodcock he coolly whistled a de- 

 fiance and dropped again a few yards off. The farms at 

 that time were never nicely kept, nearly every fence and 

 old stone wall being hedged with bushes and briers, that 

 harbored myriads of quail, while partridges could be 

 flushed by the score in every thicket. Then the farmers 

 cared but little what or where we hunted, for game that 

 they could not kilt was of little value to them; and when 

 I had reached the age of sweet fifteen and bagged a 

 feathered trophy now and then, I felt as proud as a darky 

 with a 101 b. possum. There was a famous breeding ground 

 for woodcock a few miles from our place, and once on a. 

 time two sportsmen from a neighboring village paid a 

 visit to the ground, and when they returned in the even- 

 ing they were almost hidden with strings of woodcock 

 thrown across their shoulders. Even after I had grown 

 from bo — young manhood to maturer age the country 

 swarmed with game, and ouce when traveling in the 

 western part of the State I and a chance acquaintance 

 named Stockton picked up our guns and in a Lttle while 

 came back with a fine lot of birds, without the assistance 

 of a dog. On our way home, carrying our birds by a 

 string, an old farmer stopped his team and, looking "in- 

 tently at our game, he asked, "What on airth are you 

 goin' to do with all them mud duck.-?'' "Goiug to eat 

 them," I replied-, and, with disgust oozing out of his face, 

 he drove off, evidently thinking that if there was such a 

 thing as civibzation, we were not in it, 



Not only did I lose the glorious shooting of those days, 

 but I have to regret the loss of the finest fishing that a 

 modest man could wish for. It was sparsely settled in 

 that region then, and the river was alive with striped 

 bass, but scientific fishing was unknown and no one was 

 ingenious enough to devise the ways and means of catch- 

 ing them. 



I'd give the world, and something over, to see that old 

 place as I still can see it in my memory. Scarcely a tree 

 had been cut along its banks, and the shore was lined 

 with smooth, clear pebbles— nature's beautiful arrange- 

 ment undisturbed. I have been on the Juniata and 

 other lovely streams, but I have never seen a more beau- 

 tiful river than the Delaware before the march of civili- 



