530 



FOREST AND STREAM; 



[Dec. 22, 1892. 



MEIGGS'S CABIN. 



How many favorite old camping grounds — quiet nooks 

 in the deep woods or by the side of mountain streams- 

 have been swept out of existence, even within the last 

 decade, by what is known as the encroachment of civil- 

 ization. I venture to say that there are few readers of 

 Forest and Stke »m who do not, with me, mourn the 

 lops of just such places. 



Fifteen years ago, after exhausting all my resources in 

 a fruitless chase after a golden pile in the difl'erent min- 

 ing camps in the mountains of British Columbia, and 

 with impaired energies, I wandered down to the coa8t\ 

 fetching up in a quiet little hamlet on the shores of 

 Burrard Inlet. To one who was eager to lay by for him- 

 self a shai-e of this world's goods there was certainly 

 nothing very inviting in the looks of the place. To me. 

 however, sick and tired of the unequal struggle, the 

 spot bore a most restful look, while the slumberous hush 

 tbat brooded over the quiet waters, the tall, statelv pine 

 trees, their tops just moving in tlae gentle breeze, the 

 4eep, solemn forest that held unexplored mysteries, all 

 combined to charm me to the sport and induced me at 

 last to i^itch my tent, and here I spent ten years of the 

 Jiappiest portion of my thirty years in the Province. 



Game was plentiful then," and when the d<\y'8 work 

 was done, the evening generally found me with my rifle 

 on my shoulder, not so much on slaughter bent as for 

 quiet strolling through the labyrintli of the giant trees. 

 Oijcasionaliy, however, the death of a deer or black bear 

 would be the result of these wanderings. It was on one 

 of these excursions that I came upon a 

 trail leading straight into the woods, and 

 wondering where it would take me, I fol- 

 lowed it, and in the course of half an 

 hour came to the edge of a little clearing 

 about 50yds. in extent. Here I paused, 

 struck with the scene before me, 



Iq the center of the clearing stood a 

 log cabin, the typical form of those found 

 throughout the mining districts of the 

 country, built of rough log^, roofed with 

 split stakes and with a chimney on the 

 outside constructed of sticks and mud. 

 About 15 ft. from the cabin was a low 

 shed, roofed after the stjle of the cabin, 

 but open on three sides, the fourth being 

 protected with what seemed to be the 

 cloth of an old tent. Oatside of the shed, 

 sitting lazily on the top of a small stump, 

 to which it was chained, was a coon, 

 while just in front of the cabin door a 

 couple of Stellar's jiys divided with a 

 varied thrush the pickings of a handful of 

 crumbs which had evidently just been 

 thrown out. 



In the open doorway of the cabin stood 

 the tall form of its owner, a man prob- 

 ably well into the fifties, square-should- 

 ered and straight as the tall firs which 

 surrounded his home. With a frank 

 good-natured smile he welcomed me to a 

 seat on the rough bench outside the door, 

 and in the course of an hour's conversa- 

 tion I found out all I ever knew respect- 

 ing the old man's past life. 



He had followed the fortunes of Grant 

 through the Civil War, and when peace dissolved the 

 armies of the great republic, he drifted olf to the west, 

 crossed the Rocky Mountains, and following the occupa- 

 tion of miner and trapper, reached the Pacific Coast, 

 finally fetching up on Leach River, Vancouver's Island, 

 where he spent two years with varied success washing 

 the bed rock of that stream in searcb of the yellow dust. 

 Bat rheumatism, that dreaded inheritance of those who 

 buffet the storms of the mountains, compelled him to 

 abandon his claim, and crossing the Gulf he wandered 

 up the Inlet, settling in tbe spot where I found him. 



He pointed to the shed which contained his stock in 

 trade. A pile of shingle blocks with a dozen or so 

 bunches of neatly shaved shingles. He was doing well 

 enough he said— making grub, with a few extra dollars 

 to meet emergencies. Yes, he still followed trapping 

 but more through force of habit than for any great profit 

 that could be got out of the business. Mink, wildcats 

 coons and skunk were the chief products of the neigh- 

 borhood. His mgenuity in the matter of constructing 

 wooden traps was .simply inexhaustible, and almost 

 Vithm sight of the cabin were a dozan traps, and no two 

 of them alike. With my coming— for from the very first 

 we became fast friends- this old passion of his younger 

 years began to revive, and taking me with him he ex- 

 tended his line to a creek some three miles away. There 

 we found beaver and otter, but on account of the tangled 

 net- work of undergrowth along its borders it was next to 

 impossible to examine its banks with any degree of satis- 

 faction. So after a good deal of speculation; hard work 

 and hard languaffe, we naanaged to transport an old punt 

 from the salt water overland to the creek, and then com- 

 menced the woi-k of exploration, hauling the little punt 



beneath overhanging branches, which in many place! 

 arched the narrow stream from side to side, ^ow and 

 then we would come out on an open stretch of clear 

 water, where impressed with the very silence of death 

 which prevailed, we would rest on our paddles and aUow 

 the sluggish current of the stream to take us on to thi 

 next obstruction. 



Here and there, as a favorable spot was suggested, we 

 would set a trap, and more than once did we surnrS 

 brum feasting upon the sour fruit of the wild ^rab when 

 he generally paid the penalty of his life for his aSo^ 

 warmess, and when everything else failed we would pick 

 oflE a grouse or two from the limbs of the treeM^ we 



Z^rfvTo*^"'''''^''" ^^""^i^ so long as the old 



man s larder was replenished. 



So things went on, and in course of time Meiees's 



Gabui became the favorite rendezvous for the few kSdfed 



spirits residing in the neighborhood. The late Mr I ( ■ 



Hughes, whose writings at that time on the natnrai 



history of the Province were familiar to readers of For 



loggers and trappers, and my companion on many a 

 mountain goat hunt: Scammux, the old Indian guide, and 

 last, but not least, Baptiste, a French Canadian who had 

 a sort of mania for getting into trouble with wounded 

 bears. 



Now there was nothing in Baptiste's record to show 

 that he was anything of an expert in the matter of wood- 

 craft or hunting. His stock in trade in the way of shoot- 

 ing irons was a . singlebarrel muzzleloading shotgun ; 

 nothing more. This he packed with him wherever he 

 went, and through sheer good luck, or bad luck, as he 

 called it himself, he was continually stumbling on to black 

 bears, even in places where no one ever saw a bear be- 

 fore, and in this respect he Avas the envy of the camp. 

 On sight of bruin Baptiste neVer hesitated to fire, whether 

 he was loaded for bear or snipe. Past experience and 

 hairbreadth escapes had no deterring effect on hisactione 

 when face to face with his old enemy. Twice he came 

 oiit oif these encounters with his clothes hanging in shreds 

 and himself pretty well chawed up. Once while picking 

 berries a short distance from the beach where he had 

 landed with his canoe, a black bear suddenly rose up be- 

 fore him with its paws on a log about ten feet away. 

 (^Liick as thought the old shotgun came to his shotikler, 

 but just as he fired a vision of his last encounter evidently 

 flashed before him, for dropping his gun he tore out for 

 camp at a rate of speed that took him there in an incred- 

 ibly short space of time, where he related to his partner 

 his narrow escipe from being torn to pieces, declaring 

 that the bear was just at his heels for nearly half the 

 way. Arming themselves with axes the two went back 

 to the place, where they found the gun on one side 

 of the log and on the other the bear lying dead with the 

 top of his head nearly blown off. The Frenchman '.s shot 

 had piralyz^d him on the spot. 



. Griffin had rather a poor opinion of the ti <hting qu li- 



TALKING IT OVER. 



ties of black bears— white- faced ones and all— and I may 

 tell one story as a sample of the contempt h(i entertained 

 for bruin. 



One morning I was startled from my sleep by some un- 

 usual noise, and raising myself on my elbow 1 listened. 

 From across tbe water, a mile and a half away, camp the 

 sound of the '! o'clock whistle of the Moody ville Mills, 

 while close to the house could be heard the loud tapping 

 of a pileated woodpecker, but these I was satisfied were 

 not the sounds that awakened me, because they were 

 both familiar ones. And while I was still studying as to 

 the cause of the noise there came a low lap at' the door. 

 Wondering who could be tbe <-arly caller, I was on the 

 pouit of leaving my bed, when I heard Dick, who slept 

 in the next room, start to answer the call, and on open- 

 mg the door commence talking with tbe person without 

 whom I recognized as Old Angus, a good-natured Scotch- 

 man, who did the work about the slaughter house close 

 by part of which work was the carrying of meat to the 

 mills, which he did in an open boat. 



As he spoke very low I could not catch the old man's 

 part of the conversation. At length Dick asked "How 

 long ago is it?" "About an hour.'" "About an hour'" 

 repeateu Dick. "Well if this inlet isn't getting to be the 

 headquarters for all the stupid fools on the coast. Yes- 

 terday this frog-eating Frenchman who keeps the hotel 

 next door spent two hours trying to frighten a panther 

 away from his hog pen with a pepper-box revolver and 



^^rfwl.r''^^^'' 1^^ ""i- '"""g"^ tie junction |u 



.Z M jT ^ ^uf . ^'^'^ ,^ ''^"P^'-^ ^'^^^ '^^^^-^ ^i-^r pear round the next b^nd, 



ana that we mip-hf: nrohnh w Im rro ^.U.-.f ^^ „„,i i. _ rm ' . ., , . . ' 



" -..v-v^ "vij- laixiinar lu reauera nf nnw 



^STA^r> stream; Dick Griffin, welj known amopg tbe 



: 1 i ^^S^i probably have shot it, and so he came 

 and told us. And now you spend all morning throwing 

 rocks at a bear, and after he walks otf with one of your 

 piKS you spend an hour loading your boat and then come 

 and tel your story after the bear has got awav i.robably 

 two miles m the swamp. I hope you won't have a hog 

 left by sundown to-day." And slamming the door in the 

 old man s face Dick strode back to his room. I sprang 

 out of bed and opening the door called the old man back 

 as he was walking eft' muttering something to himself. 

 Me came back slowly and when he reached me com- 

 menced speaking in the same low tone. 



"It was you I came to see. Mister Jack, and not tbat 

 rattle-brain ye have inside there." And then he told the 

 tollowmg story. It appears that while he was loadin? 

 his boat with beef he heard a racket among the pies, and 

 leaving his boat he hurried up to see what the trouble 

 was, and there found a large black bear walking off with 

 a pig in his arms. So Angus commenced pelting him 

 with rocks and finally succeeded in making him .Irop 



n hf^' f ''f^'' ^.'""^ j^'-y tiie P'"S seemed 



to be paralyzed and remained standing where the bear 

 hart dropped it, and although Angus spent Quite a time 

 trying to drive the bear off, bruiS refS trllave Ss 

 prey. And then, as the tide was going out, the old man 



had to return to the beach and move his boat into deep 

 water: and when he went back to the scene of the conflict 

 both the pig and the bear were gone. ,1 assured the old 

 fellow that we would go down at once and inspect the 

 ground. 



When we reached the spot we found it an easy matter 

 to follow the trail ; for although the bear appeared to be 

 packing the pig clear of the ground most of the way, 

 he left a pretty broad track through the underbrush and 

 ferns. After going a hundred or more yards, we came 

 upon the pig dead with a piece freshly eaten from its 

 side. About thirty yards from where the pig lay was a 

 convenient tree, with brushy limbs reaching down neai- 

 to tbe ground. Into this I climbed up twenty feet, send- 

 ing Dick home to await the sound of my rifle. For two 

 hours I kept this perch, and at length was about to give 

 it up for a bad job, when from about a hundred yards 

 back in the deep woods there came a distinct snap, which 

 had the effect of warming up the blood in my veins. 

 Snap, snap, oO yards, still closer, and, with eyes riveted 

 on the fringe of undergrowth which skirted the little 

 opening where the pig lay, I waited for the black mass 

 to appear. But five minutes passed and not a sound was 

 beard, and then a loud snort and a rush back through 

 the thick brush told me bruin had got my wind, and that 

 I might as well go home. 



After breakfast I proposed to Dick to bring in Meiggs 

 and try and trap the brute; but he did not seem to hear 

 me, for walking across the room he picked up an old 

 muzzleloading goose gun, the barrel of which was about 

 4ft. long, and which had stood unused in the corner for 

 the last year, and turning round toward me he said, 

 "Let's set her." And set her we did. It was a ditficult 

 matter to tell just which way the bear would come, and 

 the unevenness of the ground made it also ditificult to 

 judge the right elevation that would catch the enemy in 

 a vital spot. However, we made a rough 

 guees, set the infernal machine, and went 

 home to wait for the report. Supper 

 time came and went and no sound had 

 been heard, and we were just discussing 

 the advisability of leaving the giin thei'e 

 all night when the old piece belched forth; 

 wakening the echoes for a mile around, 

 Snatching up my r flc^ i started for the 

 place, f( llowed by Dick. 



About 30ft. from where the gun was 

 set was a log about 4rt. through, over 

 which we had to climb. When we gained 

 the top T saw that the pig had not been 

 disturbed, and that just on the other side 

 of it lay a black mass perfectly motion- 

 less, and concluding that the bear was 

 dead. I slid down from the log and com- 

 merced making my way through the 

 tangled mass of tall ferns, with Dick close 

 at ray heels. But ju?t as we reached the 

 little openine', up rose the bear on Ma 

 hindlegs with his right foreleg shattered 

 and dangling by his side. The gun had 

 be^n ppt too low. 



' If ever there was a fighting mad bear, 

 there was one now before us, and with its 

 one front piw cleaving the air, and mouth 

 wide open, flecked with the foam of pain 

 and race, it came straight toward us rn 

 its hirdlegs. 



Ther-* was no time for fear — there was 

 scarcely time to think, for a dozen steps 

 would bring the. enraged brute upon ue. 

 But ju5t here a good deal of the romance 

 of the thing ends, for as I covered the 

 brute with my rifle Dick said, "Let's pabk the son of a 

 gun out alive." I i^ressed the trigger, expcbting to send 

 the bullet square in the beat's open mouth, but I came 

 hear making as blean a miss as ever 1 did in my life. The 

 shot, however, threw the brute to one side, when my 

 eecocd pierced his heart, dropping him within a few 

 feet of us. "I was going to tell you," said Dick, as he 

 took out his knife and commenced to skin the bear, "that 

 you would miss that first shot if you didn't hold more to 

 tbe right." 



From the slaughter house already mentioned there had 

 escaped a half-dczen sheep, which took to the woods and 

 in a very short time became as wild and wary as their 

 cousins, the bighorns, and old Angus rfquested me to 

 shoot them wherever I came across them, and to let him 

 know when 1 did so, and he would go and pack them out. 



One evening as I was tramping through the woods, 

 making my way toward Meiggs's, I got a glimpse of one 

 of these sheep skulking along -a trail which intersected 

 Meiggs's shingle trail, about oOU^ds. above the cabin. 

 Feeling confident the sheev had not seen me, I stole cau- 

 tiously after it, trusting that it would turn down the 

 shingle trail and that 1 would get a "shot nearer home. 

 But just as he reached the junction of the two trails and 

 had turned down toward the cabin, a black bear sprang 

 from an ambush on the upper side of the trail and landed 

 at the very heels of the astonished sheep. Uf course 

 both were out of sight in a second, but a bound or two 

 brought me to the junction just in time to see the bear 

 ''i-arpear round the next b^nd. 



The trail was made by Meiggs to haul his shingle tim- 

 ber down to his shed. It was down grade all the way, 

 but as it wound in and out among the big trees a clear 

 view of ever twenty yards could not be had of any poi - 

 tion of it, and although I joined in the race at my best 

 speed I knew that my chance for a shot was slim. As 

 has been said, the sheep and bear had a pretty even start 

 at the first, but when the sheep tore through Meiggs's 

 shed, upsetting him and the bench at which he was work- 

 ing, it must have been fully fifty yards ahead of the bear 

 for Meiggs had time enough to pick himself up, look 

 down after the retreatinjr sheep, then up the trail just as 

 the bear came in sight. The bear sprang off the trail and 

 disappeared in the thick timber, and a few moments 

 after I appeared on thp scene and was grf eted with the 

 querv from Meiggs, "Well, what in thunder is coming 

 nexir' 



I afterward succeeded in shooting two of those she < p. 

 but what became of the rest was never known. 



The first snow was always a big day with Meiggs and me 

 and when we awoke in the morning and found the fresh 

 white mantle covering the ground, business for that day 

 was suspended, a circuit of the woods made and the 

 tracks of the different animals found and noted. But 

 perh^pa the princijial object of these esQijrsions was tQ 



