19 4 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 3, 1892. 



A HUNTER'S SONG. 



VV/"HEN the icy breeze through the leafless trees 



' * Whistles and shrieks amain, 

 And breaks their boughs in his wild carouse, 



And laughs if they groan in pain; 

 Then it's oh ! to be where he whistles free, 



O'er the hollows and steep inclines, 

 And in boisterous rout whirls the snow about 



Where the deer lie under the pines. 



There is music to some in the reel's shrill hum 



As the line cuts the limpid tide, 

 And the pheasant's whirr makes the cold blood stir 



As he speeds from the brooklet's side; 

 Tiut it's oh! to hear the echoes clear, 



Through the forest's tangled lines, 

 When the rifle rings and the bullet sings 



Where the deer lie under the pines. 



When the morning breaks o'er the frozen lakes 



And the stars shine pale and cold, 

 When the moon in the west sinks down to rest 



And the night grows gray and old; 

 Then it's np and away in the breaking day 



To the barrens' dim confines, 

 With pulses steady and rifle ready, 



Where the deer lie under the pines. 



Let them sing who may of the tropics gay, 



Where flowers forever hloom, 

 And, cloudy or fair, the sultry air 



Is heavy with rich perfume; 

 But it's oh! for the land where the Xorways stand, 



And through thickets and tangled vines, 

 The north wind howls and the gray wolf prowls, 



And the deer lie under the pines. 



All A y Woo'drdvp, 



IN THE MUSCALLUNGE COUNTRY. 



[Concluded from Page 170.~] 



ONE day I thought I would go down the river and try 

 the deep holes again. The day promised well, but 

 deceived me sorely. The sun was shining brightly when 

 I started. With rod and camera I pointed my boat down 

 stream. A patriarch of a pike tried conclusions with the 

 No. 6 Skinner in the little lake below the dam, the troll 

 coming out first best. The breeze ruffled the water just 

 right. A better fishing day could not have been imag- 

 ined. Rawing rapidly to reach a little lake further down 

 and with only a few yards of line out, a 4lbs. small- 

 mouth dashed at the spoon, which was being jerked 

 with great speed through the water. How he fought! 

 For a long time I could not see what I had. He kppt up 

 a steady, swift run round and round the boat. It was 

 not a spasmodic fight, but he seemed to take the cold 

 steel in his jaws with the determination to get away 

 from it by a steady pull and fast swimming. The lance- 

 wood tip'was given all the strain I thought it would 

 bear. The circus went on. That is what it seemed to 

 be. I was ring-master, and the fi3h flew around the 

 ring. But when he did give up he gave up all over. He 

 suddenly came floating to the top with his spirit broken 

 and his strength gone. He could hardly make a motion 

 after that. About now the sky was cloudy and it began 

 to drizzle. Reaching the lake where I had taken six 

 muscallunge a few days before and had hooked as many 

 more there did not seem to be a fish in the waters. The 

 thunder or something else had sent them to the bottom 

 or into the weeds or had frightened their appetites all 

 away. I got out on the shore and slopped along in the 

 wet grass looking for frogs, a few of which were captured 

 for still-fishing and casting. But the rain came down 

 now in a sharp shower. I drew my boat up under an 

 overhanging pine tree. Near by was an old stub with the 

 heart burned out for about 5ft, from the ground. It 

 leaned away from the storm and made the coziest kind 

 of a tent. In front of it I hastily built a fire and then 

 sat down for an hour or two as comfortable in my nar- 

 row quarters as ever I was in my life. 



The storm passed, and a hundred yards down stream I 

 caught three magnificent small- mouth bass. They would 

 average 4Ubs., big enough for superb sport. Going back 

 there was an ugly rapid to be surmounted. I went at it 

 saws culotte. The water was not cold but the air was, and 

 the stones terribly sharp. The boat was remarkably per- 

 verse and ifc began to rain again. By the time the top of 

 the rapids was reached I was wet to the skin, chilled to 

 the marrow, and badly disgruntled. Why is it that a 

 man does not take his death of cold under such circum- 

 stances? He is not likely to, though at home he gets the 

 sniffles if a little draft strikes bini. 



While we were sitting at the breakfast table one morn- 

 ing the cooks stampeded from the kitchen . It was a little 

 thing that had driven them out. As we cautiously 

 peeked in at the door we were not surprised that Charley 

 and Johnnie the Jew had fled in holy terror. A pretty 

 creature with a small body and lots of hair, glossy black 

 slashed with white, was nosing about in the corners and 

 soon began eating very composedly from the swill bucket. 

 No one seemed inclined to disturb him. He seemed 

 thoroughly at home. Re Had a certain confidence 

 of bearing which commanded instant respect. 'When he 

 got ready he went out. Johnnie the Jew said he had 

 seen five early that morning about the camp. I proposed 

 that in the evening we tackle the litter. They had, 

 nearly every night, given some strong intimations of 

 their proximity, J ust at dusk one of them came into the 

 "alley."' As he went out and around to the warehouse I 

 fired a charge of duck shot at him and missed. It did 

 not seem to frighten the others, however. Going out at 

 intervals during the evening we found and killed seven. 

 I worked the shotgun and the cooks carried lamps with 

 reflectors. It was snap shooting. There was not the best 

 of light, and a moving mark in semi-darkness is not easy 

 to cover, but I had the satisfaction of hitting of tener than 

 I missed. Pity these beautifully marked cats smell so 

 badly. The next morning the boys gathered up the fra- 

 grant remains and and had them laid out in a row on the 

 grass. There was a placid look on the face of Johnnie 

 the Jew, as much as to say, "I am not going to be run 

 out of the kitchen by a skunk to-day." There were no 

 mourners for the dead. Their funeral rites were cele- 

 brated with rather more joy than sorrow. 



With Jim Lawson for guide I went to Pappoose, some 

 ten or twelve miles away. It is the prettiest lake in that 

 region. The trees come close down to the waters edge. 

 There are innumerable arms and bays cutting back into 

 the timber to surprise and delight you as you troll along 

 the shore. To reach it there is a three-mile carry. We 

 had planned to leave our boat in Clear Lake and hire a 

 man living on its shore to carry his birch bark over to 

 Pappoose. This man is one of the characters of that 

 region. He was once a locomotive engineer. Drink lost 

 him his place on the footboard. He has a squaw, a 

 strapping big wench, and a family of little half-breeds. 

 As we came up to the man's clearing the children were 

 on the shore, the oldest a pretty girl of perhaps fourteen, 

 with a pappoose held upon her back by means of a shawJ. 

 They acted like frightened young partridges and edged 

 off toward the bush. When we asked for the father they 

 pointed along the shore. After much talk we made them 

 understand that they were to go for him. Into the birch 

 bark canoe they all tumbled, the baby dumped down in 

 the middle, and you should have seen them paddle. If 

 they had been in a race with the best blades of the coun- 

 try I believe they would have held their own. Their 

 father came out of a swamp where they were cutting 

 cedar for a root house, and we were soon ready to start 

 on the trail. Jim had a good-sized pack and was ahead. 

 The man came next with the birch bark canoe on his 

 head. It was a good load for him. His squaw followed 

 carrying a frying pan we had borrowed from her. We 

 couldn't see what she came along for. We soon found 

 out. About half way over, or near a mile and a half 

 from where we started, the man saddled the canoe on the 

 squaw. In about three minutes she swept around Jim 

 and in ten. minutes was out of sight down the trail. We 

 couldn't keep up with her. She wasn't a female giant 

 for nothing. 



It was late in the afternoon when we put the birch into 

 Pappoose Lake. We were after big muscallunge. Jim 

 thought we would surely get a few good ones. The mel- 

 low sunshine of the autumn afternoon was lying across 

 the beautiful sheet of water, making it gleam like dia- 

 monds where the breeze ruffled it, and shining upon the 

 distant tree-bordered shores that looked like banks of 

 emerald. So wild and sequestered did the lake look that 

 one could well believe, what is true, that few beside the 

 dusky-skinned Indians have ever launched their boats 

 upon its waters. Under Jim's steady paddle the birch 

 bark glided quietly along the lee shore, and the spoon 

 spun like a bit of whirling sunshine in and out of the 

 shadows cast by the thick standing pines and birches 

 which formed so brilliant a setting for this jewel of a 

 lake. The fish perhaps had caught the spirit of the 

 dreamy, autumnal day. Possibly they were taking a 

 siesta, swinging in grass hammocks down there in the 

 crystal depths and too lazy to touch a troll. Certainly 

 they did not betray their presence to us, save one old 

 patriarch of a small-mouth bass, who found the barbed 

 steel and silk line too much for even his long unmastered 

 strength. 



We pitched our tent at night on a point covered with 

 huge pines. A good fire was soon roaring in front of the 

 tent, driving shafts of flickering light among the grim 

 old giants of the forest. How Jim did snore that night! 

 He would have lifted the tent from its stakes if the 

 whole front had not been left open. This let the roaring 

 noise out, and no great harm was done except that I slept 

 little. Aside from Jim's nasal performance the night was 

 painfully still. No breath of wind stirred the mighty 

 pines. Some wild thing, perhaps a porcupine stealing 

 about stealthily in the brush, could be heard distinctly. 

 The wood in the dying fire would snap and fall with a 

 noise that sounded strangely loud in the stillness. The 

 loon's lone note came like a lost soul's cry through the 

 darkness. 



Before the sun could get a look over the treetops the 

 coffeepot was boiling and the bacon frying. We were 

 noc long in getting ready to tempt the warriors of the 

 waters in combat. But they were not in a fighting mood. 

 In and out of the coves and bays went the birch bark, 

 Along the shore was many a 'fallen treetop where it 

 seemed the fish might lurk. Casting about them with all 

 the skill I could muster, I failed to get a rise. Toward 

 noon we had worked around the long shore line to the 

 islands near where we first entered the lake. Here we 

 began to find some fairly good small-mouths. On my 

 light split-bamboo they made great sport. Until this 

 morning, I had never used anything but a heavier jointed 

 Japanese cane rod. I had brought along a split-bamboo, 

 quite light, but feared it would prove too frail in hands 

 unused to its lighter weight. But I will never go back 

 again to the heavier rod. In trolling the fish are less 

 likely to hook themselves on the light rod, there can be 

 no doubt about this. But the sport when they are hooked 

 is all on the side of the lighter weapon. Going around 

 one of the islands there came a strike which made me 

 think the grandfather of all the fish in the lake had 

 tackled my spoon. For many minutes he surged about 

 the boat. He would not come close enough to the top of 

 the water to show what he was. Pappoose Lake has some 

 big pike in it, and, from the way in which he kept out of 

 sight, this fish must have been a monster pike. What- 

 ever he was, when he had tired the angler's arm he went 

 his way without asking leave to. The total catch that 

 day was not enormous. A dozen or fifteen bass, that 

 would average 81bs., was all. No, this was not all, for as 

 we trudged back over the trail that afternoon I remember 

 the hours on that beautiful lake as among the happiest of 

 my outing. The mental pictures which one carries home 

 from the lakes and forests are the most abiding treasures. 

 The day before in Clear Lake we had caught a score or 

 more of pike still-fishing, so that though we did not get 

 the big muscallunge we had gone after, we did not go 

 back empty-handed to the dam . 



The very best fish that were caught by the writer and 

 others fishing at the dam at the same time, were taken 

 near at hand. One muscallunge weighing a little less 

 than 201bs., was taken within a 100yds. of where we left 

 our boats. Every fisherman had rowed past that point 

 twice every day, and hardly thought it worth while to 

 try for anything there. 1 caught several 'lunge in this 

 lake when I did not want to go far from camp, and they 

 were the best I got, averaging about 81bs. 



Mud Lake, a little despised sheet of water, lying be- 

 tween Clear and Stone, and connected with both, is a good 

 place for everything but pike. I took a number of big- 

 mouth bass there, and can confirm what your correspon- 

 dent S. W. S. said last w-eek anent the big-mouths fight- 



ing qualities, In clear cool water he is vigorous and 

 gamy. It would be impossible for any man to tell which 

 species of bass he had hooked until the fish breaks water. 

 Both will tug like a broncho on the line, leap gamely 

 from the water, and viciously shake the head while in 

 the air until the spoon rattles like castanets in the effort 

 to throw out the hook from the jaws. 



The day came at length for uiijointing the rods for the 

 last time. It is a melancholy tune when the sport has 

 been good and the appetite for it yet unsatisfied. We 

 bade the boys good-bye, climbed into the wagon and 

 started for the station. In the hope of seeing a partridge 

 on the way, I slipped cartridges into my gun. About 

 half way to the railroad a bird went whirring out from 

 beside a log, presenting a splendid shot. The log lay on 

 the slope of the river bank not more than ten feet away. 

 He went straight away, but, alas, right across the river. 

 What was the use in shooting a bird only to have him 

 fall in the water where I could not hope to get him? 

 And then what happened? As we sat there at least a 

 dozen birds followed the first one, going one at a time. 

 I could not see them until they started to fly and then a 

 few strokes of their wings put them over the swift cur- 

 rent. I could look down on their backs and for at least 

 fifty yards they were in plain view, with not a bush or 

 tree branch to get in the way of a sure aim. It took self 

 denial not to pull trigger on them. But I have always 

 made it a rule to shoot nothing merely for the sake of 

 killing, and I could not have retrieved one of those birds 

 under the circumstances. It seems to me that if I go 

 back to that country again I have earned the right to 

 have a chance at the broods those birds may raise next 

 summer. Going back again? Who ever turned away 

 from a successful fishing trip without intending some day 

 to go back and catch the "biggest fellow that got away.'" 



Illinois. Richard Gear Hobbs. 



WILDFOWL IN TEXAS.-1I. 



IT will not do to leave the river without introducing 

 you to our driver, who, I am afraid, was too much 

 like a typical native; that is, "born rather tired," but 

 with a great deal of curiosity and native shrewdness. 



Will V. bad found Zach Oit, living some distance from 

 the river, and made inquiries about the "raft" and possi- 

 bility of getting around it, or means of portage, and Zach 

 came down to our camp just as supper was ready. He 

 excused himself from joining us, having just eaten be- 

 fore leaving home, and besides, "didn't hanker arter 

 ducks anyways, liked pork better." 



His curiosity, like that of others in this region, was 

 much aroused in regard to our motives in coming down 

 in this section of country, and credulity was shown in 

 his expression (probably justified by our personal appear- 

 ance after a long boating trip), if not in his speech, on re- 

 ceiving negative answers to his questions of whether we 

 were fishin', trappin' or huntin' ducks for their feathers. 

 He stated, however, on getting better acquainted, that 

 he didn't think we were "low down enough to be fishin'." 



After cautious investigation of us and our outfit, he 

 made propositions for the hauling, qualified with the re- 

 mark, "I reckon that you una have got money enough to 

 pay me;" and being satisfied on that important point the 

 bargain was closed. 



After meeting Zach the next morning at a ferry some 

 three miles below, loading up boat and baggage on 

 a rather dilapidated wagon, drawn by a light team, to 

 say the least about the horses, the twenty-mile portage 

 was undertaken, and there was our opportunity for 

 learning something concerning our jehu, 



He claimed to be a genuine cowboy, ruined, so far as 

 his legitimate profession was concerned, by the fencing 

 of pastures during the past few years. He had tried 

 fishing the river and succeeded admirably at that, "but 

 it was a too-low-down business", (and too much hard 

 work, probably), so he had changed to buying chickens, 

 eggs and butter and trading in tinware for a season, and 

 now had been farming for a couple of years. 



Zach freely acknowledged he did not like the business 

 and was not very successful, having to buy corn thus 

 early in December, but then he was going to put in twelve 

 or thirteen acres next season. His experiences in farm- 

 ing were amusing enough, yet pitiable, for without doubt 

 no more fertile land or propitious climate can be found in 

 the United States: and energy and practical knowledge 

 are the only requisites for success. 



Mast-fattened hogs are plenty on the lower Colorado, 

 however, and our friend Zach will get along all right, 

 and any reader who may take a trip to Elliott's ferry will 

 find him ready and willing to act as guide or furnish 

 transportation. 



On Sunday evening, Dec. G, we launched our boat in 

 the bayou at Matagorda, after the twenty-mile portage 

 over a smooth prairie of very fine land for the most part, 

 given up mostly to grazing. Several visitors came down 

 to see us and our boat, we agreeing, however, that the 

 boat was too small to navigate the bay, and predicting 

 discomfort if not disaster. One good Samaritan informed 

 us where we could find wood and water up the bayou, 

 and then led us to his boat and pointed out a pile of 

 oysters, telling us to help ourselves. Nothing loth, we 

 thanked him and pitched in, taking off the keen edge of 

 an up-country appetite for oysters and carrying a small 

 cargo to our camping place for a later feast. Matagorda 

 Bay oysters are regarded as the best found on the Gulf 

 coast, and some recent shipments to New York have been 

 successful, showing my taste, cultivated on "Rockaways" 

 in my youth, has not become vitiated, when I pronounce 

 the Matagordas equal to any oyster I have ever tasted. 



A heavy norther had accompanied us on our portage, 

 and on Monday was blowing nearly a gale, precluding 

 amy start and allowing us plenty of time to hunt up water 

 keg, anchor, and other requisites, besides interviewing 

 some of the resident salts in regard to courses and dis- 

 tances on the bays, of which we were perfectly ignorant. 

 We received plenty of advice and directions, for which 

 we were thankful, but which were at once forgotten, and 

 our trip was really made on a dubious course of south and 

 west, stopping where we felt inclined and sometimes 

 where we were forced by stress of weather. 



Matagorda, so important a point in the early history of 

 the State, has sadly fallen from its former prosperity, for 

 the bay is continually shallowing, while railroads have 

 provided other markets. Still it would be a grand point 

 for hunter or angler if not so inconvenient to reach. 



Tuesday morning, with a moderate wind, we sailed out 

 into the open bay, bound for the oyster reefs, and during 



