FOREST AND STREAM. 



1^0^ 5, 1891. 



ing to recover his lo&t hold, until another dig knocked 

 him completely of£, and he fell, catcljing on to a lower 

 limb for an instant, then dropped to his death. 



Joe reached the ground in time to view the dead ani- 

 mals, as Sile laid them out side by side near the fire; and 

 he felt no little satisfaction in" the knowledge that his 

 share in the honors was not small. "Tell ye what," he 

 said, "them fellers looked mighty big up there, 'n' when 

 I hit that first one he jumped right at me, and if I hadn't 

 give it to 'im good we'd a had a tussle." His next move 

 was to get out his pipe, which he filled and lit at the 

 torch. 



"Well," said Hank, as he picked up half a dozen large 

 chips from a pile of his own making, whei'e he had been 

 chopping here on some previous day, and threw them on 

 the fire, "'f we 're goin' to find 'em 's easy 's this I ain't 

 goin' CO hurry," and he threw himself on the ground the 

 better to enjoy his smoke. Sile and the rest were dis- 

 posed to follow his example, and as they reclined in 

 peaceful comfort under the soothing influence of the 

 weed, too comfortable even to talk for a while, the flick- 

 ering glare of the fire on their faces and the surround- 

 ing trees and bushes made a fantastic and effective tab- 

 leau. 



Is it not the memory of such scenes and short periods 

 of restful comfort that go with the greater hardships of 

 hunting, be it for coons or more worthy game, and the 

 happy consciousness of having accomplished a little more 

 than was expected, or nothing at all but the uncomfortable 

 feeling of tiredness which gives excuse to make comfort 

 out of it by stopping to rest awhile that makes the 

 sportsman's life a happy one? Who does not sometimes 

 wish to be alone that he may light his pipe and draw up 

 to the fire of a long winter's evening for no other pur- 

 pose than to dream over his past hardships and bring 

 back the little comforts that he got out of them, and does 

 not time so soften the hardships that he can see a little 

 comfort even in them? 



By the time Site's pipe was so far smoked that he had 

 to pack the ashes down in the bowl with the end of his 

 middle finger, the fire needed poking and the spell was 

 broken by Joe, who asked Sile ''how many coons he ever 

 ketched." "Well, thet's purty hard to tell," returned 

 S le. "We ketched forty-nine with Don last fall, and I 

 never kep' no count afore, and wouldn't then 'f t'other 

 fellers hadn't bin countin' 'em up one day. Thet's 'bout 

 the best fall's huntin' 't I ever done, and I bin huntin' 

 coons twenty year 'r more. We got seven out o' one tree 

 once." 



"Gosh all hemlock! Must o' been a good tree fer coons," 

 said Joe, "where 'd ye do that, Sile?" 



"Wull, 'twant a hemlock, but an oak, and 't was 'bout 

 nine 'r ten year' ago. Two on 'em was old ones and 

 'tother five was young ones, and they was all o' one 

 family 'f none on 'em got away," replied Sile, who seemed 

 to want to let the matter drop. But Joe pressed him for 

 the story, and as Hank wanted to hear it too, he con- 

 tinued: "There was a feller over in Big Flats 't had a 

 coon dog 't everybody was a talkin' about, and I wanted 

 to go huntin' with him, so I made it up with Pete Haw- 

 kins 't lived over that way to go over some night and 

 see him. One afteruoon Pete come 'round with his boss 

 and wagon, and said he had everything fixed for a hunt 

 that night, and he'd come to take me over. We started 

 'long about 4 o'clock and got over to the flats about 7 

 Pete drove 'round to the tavern and put up his Iiosh; and 

 the feller was there, 'n' we went in and took somethin' 

 and talked dog and hunt for a while, and then we took 

 sumthin' more, and the feller he got to teltin' us where 

 we was goin' to hunt that night and where he'd bin hunt- 

 in' before and how many coons he'd ketched 'round that 

 part 'f the country till I began to think 't we was goin' 

 to do all the huntin' in the tavern, and I said we'd better 

 take sumthin' more and be goin'. Wull, the feller 'd 

 'bout winded himse'f and was satisfied, so we went over 

 to his house a little ways f "m the tavern and got his dog. 

 Don ain't much for han'some, but he's a beauty t' what 

 that one was — 'bout half bulldog and t'other half nothin', 

 leastwise, I couldn't tell what t'other half was. The 

 feller said he was half hound: Pete said he was a cross 

 between a bulldog 'n' a barn door, I didn't say nothin', 

 we got started purty soon. We stopped at another fel- 

 ler's house and got him and an axe 'n' lantern, and then 

 struck 'cross lots f'm there for a cornfield and a big 

 woods and let the dog go. He wasn't gone more'n five 

 minutes till he set up the alfiredest yellin' ye ever heard 

 in one place, and the feller didn't know what to make 'f 

 it hisself. I thought he'd holed a skunk, but the feller 

 gaid he wouldn't notice nothin' but a coon, 



"Well, we hurried up and found the dog barkin' up a 

 big oak tree. We built a fire and Pete clum up, and 

 purty soon he hollered down that he seen 'em and they 

 was coons; he didn't know how many. So when we was 

 ready he knocked one out and the dog grabbed it and 

 killed it before we could git to him. Pete knocked an- 

 other down and the dog killed that, and another one, and 

 all three on 'em was young ones 'bout half grown. Then 

 Pete told us to look out for the next was an old one, and 

 the dog didn't git away with that as easy as with the 

 young ones, but he had a regular bulldog way of grabbin' 

 'em, and he soon finished him. Pete kept it up till he 

 knocked out two more young ones and an old one, and 

 said there wasn't any more and he guessed he'd come 

 down, I never seen a dog behave hisself so beautiful. 

 He didn't let one get away, and when he got a grip on 

 one it was a goner." 



"How d' ye count for gettin' 'em all up one tree?" in- 

 quired Hank. 



"Wull, I s'pose they was feedin' on the acorns and the 

 dog run in on 'em so sudden they didn't have time to 

 run," said Sile, "We got four more that night, but we 

 didn't git 'em all at once and had to cut down a big 

 hem — There's your dog!" exclaimed Sde, as he was 

 interrupted by the baying of Hank's dog, which had 

 stolen away while Sile was telling bis story. They were 

 all on their feet and listening now, 



Don pricked up his ears and as if ashamed at being out- 

 done by his younger companion soon slunk out of sight 

 into the darkness. Jack continued to give tongue at 

 irregular intervals, moving slowly away into the denser 

 woods; and after Hank had kicked out the now dying 

 fire and Joe and Jim had picked up the two dead coons, 

 they started to follow the direction of the sound. Their 

 course took them through the level woods a short dis- 

 tance, then down into the hollow toward the creek, 

 Jack's voice leading them slowly on until he reached the 

 bottom, when he became silent. After listening a while, 



and as Jack was not heard again, Sile declared that he 

 had lost the trail in the water and he moved on, the rest 

 following him, until they came to the creek, where he 

 stopped and listened again. Jack could be heard now as 

 he nosed along the bank trying to find the lost trail. 

 Hank encouraged him, but all in vain, until he was ready 

 to give up; but at that moment the deeper voice of Don 

 broke out loud and musical further up the stream and 

 on the other side, and Jack broke away to join him. 

 When he found the trail again he gave joyful " notice of 

 his discovery, and the baying of the two made the woods 

 ring and echo back the glorious sound so musical to the 

 ear of the hunter. After a long chase and as the trail 

 became hotter, and finally ended, when the do^s seemed 

 to be moving no further. Sill said: "He's treed, boys, 

 come on." 



The eastern sky was silvery gray when Jonas Askem 

 opened the door of his tavern to go out and take down 

 the shutters of his bar-room windows, He heard 

 voices coming down the road, and liitening, he reco^nizpd 

 them as belonging to Silas Larkum and Hank Bender. 

 By the time he had the bars down and the shutters set up 

 in their accustomed places the party were within speak- 

 ing distance, and stepping to the edge of the broad porch 

 he bade them a cheerful good morning, and inquired, 

 "Wal, boys, haow d' ye make aout?" 



"Got five," said Sile, nodding toward the ringed tails of 

 as many skins which Joe and -Jim held up to view, "Wal, 

 ye done well, but I wish ye'd brought me one a' the car- 

 casses, and I'd had my woman bake it. Tell ye what," 

 he said, as a new thought struck him, "Next time ye git 

 any, 'f ye'll bring 'em to me, we'll git the folks together 

 and I'll ^ive ye all a coon supper, and we'll have a slashin' 

 old-fashioned dance, " 



"All right," said Hank, who was more than pleased 

 with the proposition, "ye shall have 'em inside of a week. 

 What d' ye say Sile?" 



"We'll git 'em," returned Sile. 



Then they divided the skins and separated, Joe and 

 Jim each taking one to add to those they already had at 

 home, as they said, when they got enough they intended 

 to ' make buflfalo robes out of 'em." And Sile the rest, 

 for Hank cared for nothing but the fim of the hunting, 

 J. H, B. 



WILD RICE. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



On returning from my vacation and on looking over 

 some of the numbers of Forest and Stream which had 

 come to hand during my absence, I found in the number 

 dated Sept, 3, an ai-ticle on wild rice, signed by Mr, E, 

 Hough, As the old saying is, "One story is good until 

 another is told," I thought possibly my experience in 

 planting wild rice in the fall might be of interest to some 

 of your readers. Last fall I gathered about six bushels 

 of wild rice at Rice Lake, Ontario, Canada, I took the 

 same with me to Lake Nipissing and planted it, about 

 the middle of September in one of the marshes in South 

 Bay. On my return there this fall I found (to use the 

 words of Mr. Hough) the result simply amazing. I 

 found rice growing abundantly over the entire marsh, 

 thousands of yards away from where any had been sown. 

 How it spread itself in this manner is a puzzle to me. 

 Formerly the marsh was full of a sort of joint grass of 

 which I doni't know the proper name. I planted the 

 rice wherever I found an open hole in this, and very 

 much feared that the joint grass would choke it out, but 

 instead of that the rice has choked out the joint grass, 

 and there is scarcely any of it left, I also plantpd Fome 

 in several small creeks, and in every case it did well, 

 except in one place where the bottom of the creek was 

 clayey, and where in spring there must be rather a swift 

 current. 



Unfortunately, I fear that the pains I have taken to 

 improve the shooting in South Bay will be useless, as the 

 Indians, who are a curse to the entire lake, obey none of 

 the game laws, and this summer there were four or five 

 families of them who camped in South Bay until Septem- 

 ber, During this time they were shooting the ducks, 

 both young and old, and the result was that when I 

 arrived Sept, 8 I found the ducks scarce and wild. When 

 the place is let alone till the season opens, there is very 

 fair shooting during September, Most of the ducks breed 

 there, consisting of black duck, wood duck, pintails, green- 

 wing teal, blue wing teal, and little sawbilis. For some 

 reason the fall ducks do not visit the bay. Nipissing. 



Boston, Mas?., Nov. 3, 



GOSSIP OF GAME AND GUNS. 



THE quail season should open Oct, 15 in Pennsylvania, 

 simply because those two weeks in October are the 

 halcyon days of a true sportsman's life; the clear bracing 

 air is an exhilaration itself, with gun and dog, neither too 

 hot nor cold to traverse hill, dale, swale, covert or field, 

 and warm enough to bask in the bright sunshine, and to 

 enjoy the crystal waters of some spring and lunch, smoke 

 and compare notes with the hunting friend, and rest or 

 dream the waking dream of beautiful creation all around. 

 One such day is worth a week or more of plentiful shoot- 

 ing in chilling, raw, blustering and (for some years in my 

 experience) rainy November, or the whole two weeks of 

 freezing, icy December, 



And what foil v ; woodcock July 4, squirrels Sept, 1, 

 grouse Oct. 1, wild turkey Oct, 15, quail Nov, 1; that is 

 Pennsylvania game law, A woodcock shooter may respect 

 the law in July because he finds nothing else to shoot; 

 the men who can shoot squirrels in September and fight 

 mosquitoes will shoot anything. Can the true sportsman 

 hunt grouse and woodcock in early October and refrain 

 from full-grown early quail? For example, from Oct, 1 

 I have been training one of my dogs on grouse, the covers 

 adjacent to fields I find the best localities while the leaves 

 are yet on. An occasional woodcock occurs, but quail 

 are abundant. The other day a grouse flushed near me, 

 which I heard but failed to see. On hunting further with 

 dog well in, he stiffened and a bird rose through dense 

 foliage, I was almost sure I had heard the thud of the 

 dead bird, and sent the dog to retrieve. But neither he 

 nor I could discover it. Then it struck me that probably 

 my imagination only had done what my gun had failed 

 in. So I advanced further along the line of flight, again 

 the dog stiffened, the bird flushed, and this time the 

 whistle (wings or throat) told the tale; but Schultze "did 

 the rest" this time, I was hunting grouse, but was more 

 than pleased when the dog brought a plump, brown wood- 



cock to hand. In twenty-five years of quail and grouse 

 shooting I had never raised woodcock in that cover. 



Further on, in passing a cornfield, I flushed another 

 woodcock, realizing too late that it was not a quail. 

 After that I flushed a bevy of large quail, and they took 

 the same cover which I was just about to quarter for 

 grouse, and now also for woodcock. The quail were 

 rising constantly, and twice more I let the woodcock go 

 without proper salutation, and finally lost him, My dog 

 now became disgusted and took to chasing, concluding 

 no dotibt that if his master was merely fooling and not 

 shooting, he ought to catch a few birds himself. And 

 the master, too, was disgusted and wholly demoralized, 

 almost badly enough to sacrifice honor and law, and 

 shoot a lot of those full grown, plump quail, on which 

 my dog had become staunch last year— its Derbv. At 

 two score and ten the 91 bs, gun grew heavy: at three 

 score and a few over I find an S^lbs, arm very heavy; I 

 trust the 71bs. hammerless will ease the balance of my 

 shooting, which will be most likely confined to quail on 

 practically level country. 



I was tempted with the 61bs, or 6ilbs, 16-gauge, but 

 was dissuaded by the experience of others, with sidrs, 

 powder, loz. shot, my charge for small game, and with 

 wood powder, a 61bs. gun might have been better. In 

 the near by and by I may wish 7 were only 6. 



I have but rarely, in 'twenty-four years, found wood- 

 cock in any number in October or later, this year is quite 

 an exception, for they are almost numerous enough to 

 induce special hunting for them. 



In all parts of Pennsylvania from which I have had 

 reports quail are said to be abundant; but this year there 

 are some of the latest broods I ever saw or heard of. On 

 the 10th inst. my dogs stood a very large brood, which 

 were evidently hatched within a few days only, and I 

 have at least three broods on my place which will not be 

 fit for shooting at the end of the season, at least not for 

 me, for half and three quarter flutters can not, unless 

 maybe in midsummer, send the thrill of happy anticipa- 

 tion through the true sportsman, Juniata, 



PENNSYIiVANTA, 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



Let me coincide with your correspondent "W, F, B." 

 on "Guns and Loads," I have shot a good many gray 

 squirrels and ruffed grouse in the course of my life, with 

 a 12-gauge gun, and 21drs, Hazard or Dupont powder, 

 Uoz. No, 6 shot, and one good Eley wad on powder. The 

 above are both hard "birds" to kill, but I seldom failed if 

 I held right, 



I never shot "crockery," but think the present tendency 

 is to overload, I never wanted a gun to kick me, I pre- 

 ferred that the energy should be expended on the game. 



We have had a warm and delightful autumn, and the 

 colors on the hills are just fading into a sombre brown. 

 The majjiles and chestnuts have about shed their leaves, 

 and they are showering down to day from the elms in the 

 village, but the oaks will keep their colors up a few days 

 longer, I have done no shooting myself for two years, I 

 cannot hear the bark of the squirrel, or the rustle or drum 

 of the grouse, and desk work and spectacles have nearly 

 spoiled my vision for the woods. Well, I have no right 

 to repine, I have had many a happy day in them, fii-st 

 with my brother, and since with my sons, but I fear I 

 have fired "my last shot." VoN W. 



THE SPORTSMEN'S JOINT. 



('i O into any village and a place will be found where 

 T the hunters and fishers gather to exchange tales of 

 mighty hunting episodes or big strings of fish. It is 

 natural for sportsmen to meet together where they may 

 converse on the topics of the times and discuss relative 

 merits of weights and gauges of guns, breeds of dogs, 

 quality of powder, durability of bamboo and lancewood 

 rods, and a thousand other points of no earthly interest 

 to the vast majority of mankind, but of profound con- 

 cern to men of the rod and gun. A village is indeed 

 small where a few congenial spirits do not meet on lo; g 

 winter evenings to converse on deeds of the past and 

 prospective events. 



We are favored here with a host of hunters and fishers, 

 and also fortunate in jjossessing a man, who, while he is 

 engaged in the gunsmith business, is interested heart and 

 soul in chickens, dogs, guns and the trap. Henry 

 Waruf's store is always open to the sportsmen of the 

 world, and a mighty concourse of choice spirits is an 

 assured thing. 



Among those who habitually linger through the winter 

 evenings and are always atn-oll call are Will O" Byrne and 

 Abe Francoise, of the Horseshoe Kennels; Will Locher, 

 the fancier of foxhounds; Thomas, the chicken breeder 

 (game jjref erred); Jake DeKam, the mighty hunter; Ira 

 Johnson and brother, small talkers but good listeners; 

 Charles Eling, who speaks very little, but always about 

 "my boat," and Reddy Clement, the only man who can 

 catch thirteen bass on the same fly, Waruf presides, or 

 at least we let him think he does as he runs the ranch, 

 and if any of the gang gets a notion that he don't, the 

 proprietor challenges him to the work room in the rear 

 where the boxing gloves are donned and some one gets 

 polished off. 



In addition to these many others drop in, but not so 

 regularly. Mr, Wirtz, who has hunted all over the West; 

 Ben O, Bush, who'd rather hunt than eat his game; Chas, 

 Williams, the light-weight; Dr, Gibbs, the "has been;" 

 Charlie Crosby, who travels and therefore can hunt only 

 one day out of the seven; E, H, Ranney, the marvelous 

 Kankakee duck shot; Fred Clough, the truthful James of 

 the joint. Occasionally David McDonald, the druggist, 

 appears, he is a true friend of the dog, Pete Appeldoorn 

 was formerly in the fold, but of late he is rarely seen, 

 having joined the matrimonial alliance, 



Mr. Luker, from the great State of New Jersey, is a 

 good sitter and a marvelous story teller; the thrilling 

 recital of how he ran a mile with a SOOlbs, buck on his 

 shoulder and escaped from a huge panther is worth going 

 a mile to hear. His salvation rested in the fact that he 

 had a huge chew of navy plug in his mouth, and by 

 ejecting the irritating juice into the catamount's eyes 

 when it followed too closely he came through with a 

 whole skin. The narration is brilliant, and wiU bring 

 tears to the eyes, as I jjresume the tobacco juice did to 

 the catamount's. 



We must not forget Theodore Sbide, who was with us 

 well and hearty less than a year ago, now laid with the 

 great majority, A gentleman by nature, and of pleasing 



