292 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Apeil 6, 1898. 



DANVIS FOLKS— I. 



Two Returning Pilgrims. 



A HOMESICKNESS that time could not cure nor alleviate, 

 became so insufferable to Elisha Peags and Jerusha his 

 wife, that after enduring it for three years, they bade fare- 

 well to tneir son and daughter-in-law and to the grand- 

 children who had been the strongest tie to hold them to 

 their uncongenial Western huuie, and set forth onthelong 

 journey to their native town of Dan vis. 



At first they voyaged on the Great Lakes, beset with the 

 alarms and qualms that would attend such old inland 

 bred folks, then with greater comfort on the Erie and the 

 Champlam Canals. Their journey on the canal packet 

 brought them frequently into a stir of busy life, wonder- 

 ful and bewildering to their un%vordly wisdom, and often 

 had a pungent flavor of trivial incident and accident not 

 always pleasant in present experience, yet always ac- 

 counted of future value in the story to be told to the un- 

 travelcd home folks whom they were soon to meet. At 

 intervals, they made brief passaye through commercial 

 towns whose stir and hustle of traffic set their quiet brains 

 in a whirl and rang in their ears long after their boat was 

 aeain gliding through the quietude of farms and wood- 

 lands. 



Now, they were voyaging more pleasantly, beyond the 

 tiu-moil of towns, the bickerings of rough-mannered boat- 

 men, the siuill imprecations of impish drivers and the 

 pain of seeing jadeU horses always before them on the 

 tow path, to vf iiose toil they were adding a moiety of 

 burden. A lively and industrious little steamer that 

 never gave sign of weariness was now towing the long, 

 narrow canar packet out of the marshy wmdings of Lake 

 Champlain's upper channel into widening waters. A rest- 

 ful home feeluig began to come upon them with a sense 

 of proprietorship in the landscape. For here on their 

 riglit baud lay their own beloved Vermont, with its 

 eternal mountains and its homesteads grown gray in tht- 

 possession of generations of one name, and bawling 

 teamsters with plodding oxen plowmg snugly fenced 

 fields, Morgan horses trotting along the higiiways, and 

 flocks of merino siieep dottmg tlie tawny pastures with 

 flecks of umber and streaking them witli devious lines of 

 pathway often tending toward gnawned and nibbleu 

 stacks that looked lilie immense mushrooms growing in 

 the dun fall fed meadows. Such famdiar scenes, thinly 

 veiled in the etherial web of an Indian summer day, 

 gladdened tUeir homesick nearts as tbey sat on the deck. 



The tide of travel was setting westward, andin itsf'^eble 

 backflow this old couple found themselves with but few 

 companions, and these not very congenial ones. They 

 were all people who had not known their people. Most of 

 them were rtturning from spying out the land of promise, 

 U) sell tlieir gear at any price and remove their families ti. 

 the region of unlimited possil)ilities, which they were con 

 tinually vaunting, wlule the impossibiUties, except in tht 

 direction of poverty, of their New England birthright, 

 were as continually set forth, to the disgust of Uncle 

 Lisha's loval Yankee soul. 



'■It's a dirty bird at faouls his own nest," was his reply 

 to their disparagement of his beloved stony soil. "1 

 drutlier hev the leetle clmnk o' V'mont sile 'afs goiu' tu 

 kiver my ol' bones 'n tu hev the huU splatteration o' yer 

 West." 



"There aint room enough 'mongst your hills to lay you 

 down level," said a ilapper little man who was the 

 acknowledged wit of the company. 



■'Wal, then, let Vm Stan' me up in a post-hole. I 

 drutlier liev the top on 't 'an a liull perary. Don't you tell 

 me haout yotu- fever 'n' aguy, flatted-aout humsick West. 

 I ben there. Go lu that duiubd pancake of a country 'f 

 you wanter, but le' me stay nigher tu God A'mighty's 

 maountain.s.'' 



"I n^'ver see secli a harnsome country," declared one en- 

 thusiastic pilgrim, '"why, I rid more'n ahunderd mild an' 

 never see one hill higher 'n a hay stack. An' sech crops 

 o' corn an' wheat. More on one acre 'n you c'n git 

 on five here." 



"Honh," Uncle Lisha snorted contemptuous'y, "As ef it 

 was a vartu in a country to be so flat, water do' know 

 which way tu run. Blast the crops, the' ha' no heart in 

 'em 'f th>-y be big, I drutlier hev a peck o' Dutton, yis, 

 er Tucket, than a bjsliel o' tlieir dumbd hoss-tootli corn, 

 wi' no more taste m 't 'n moonshine. I tell ye, the's one 

 crop raised 'mong-t these maountains 't can't be beat, 'n 

 that's stiddy, ol'-fashioiied hum-bidin' men an' women. 

 Not but what the's lots o' clever, free-hearted folks aout 

 West, but they're in su'-hatarnal hurry it makes me tired, 

 an" the everlastin' flatness makes me humsick;" 



There was also a land speculator, in sha^^by clothes 

 and a pervading uncleaiiliness, with a portfolio of plans 

 of unbuilt cities, which he persistently spread before 

 every eye that would follow his dirty, talon-like fore- 

 finger as it pointed out the most desirable lots and traced 

 th^ lines of traffic that were surely to be established. 

 "I'll guarantee to make any man rich, yes sir, forty men 

 rich, if they'll follow my advice and buy as I tell 'em." 



"Good airth an' seas," cried Uncle Lisha, returning his 

 spectacles to their steel case and shutting it with a spite- 

 ful snap after a brief inspection of the maps. "Why in 

 thunder don't you make yourself rich, an' buy you some 

 store clo's an' a hunk o' soap an' wash ye, hey?" And 

 this severed their intercourse. 



Presently the hoary ruins of Ticonderoga confronted 

 them on the western shore, and it was as if its self -vaunted 

 hero, Granther Hill, had come to welcome them to the dis- 

 mantled fortress. Tlien Chimney Point and Fort St. 

 Frederic's shattered wails swung apart before them and 

 they passed into the broad expanse of calm, blue water 

 that between pleasant shores stretched far away into the 

 pearly haze, where rock-anchored, purple islets and white 

 sails of laggard craft hung alike moveless on the unde- 

 fined verge of lake and sky. Then far away to the nortli- 

 east, silently welcoming them, in ghostly grandeur, the 

 landmarks of their State, Mansfield and Camel's Hump, 

 towering through the film of haze, and what warmed 

 their hearts still more, the lesser peak of their own Dan- 

 vis mountam in whose shadow they had dwelt so many 

 years. 



Now the ragged escarpments of Split Eock Mountain 

 began to respond with the sharper, quicker echoes than 

 the low shores had given to the regular tireless pant of 

 the steamer. The sim was low in the west and they 



beh'^ld the miracle of rapidly -recurring sunsets as the 

 red, ray less disc sank fi'om view behind the bristling sil- 

 houtte of a pinnacled peak, then emerged in the rugged 

 scoop of a gorge, then sank and rose again, and at last 

 refreshed their long weariness of prairie life with the 

 abiding and deepening shadows of the mountain. 



Then the steamer turned eastward and entered the 

 river, passing the peaceful grass- grown ramparts of Fort 

 Cassin, and began plowing with prow and headlight, her 

 devious way through the dark water and the thickening 

 shadows. The incessant thunder of the falls came in a low 

 murmur to the voyagers' ears, until it swelled to a sidlen 

 roar, and at length the lights of the town shone down from 

 the hill,and beacon lanterns on the whai-ves glittered across 

 the black eddies and white foam-streaks, and then amid 

 much confusion and shouting of orders from steamer, 

 canalboat and shore, the packet was got into her dock. 

 .The two old people eagerly scanned the illuminated group 

 of bustlers and idlers for some friendly face. Over and 

 over all the faces their eyes went again and again, but 

 found not a famihar one nor one that brightened at sight 

 of their own. 



"Good airth an' seas," cried the old man in sorrow and 

 vexation, "haint the' one on 'em 'at cared 'nough 'baout 

 us tu come so fur tu meet us? I wisht I was back in West- 

 constant, I du." 



"Oh, father, you don't nuther," said Aunt Jerusha, 

 ready to cry with disappointment, herself. "They haint 

 never got aour letter, I linow they haint." 



"Mebby," he admitted, "but I don't see haow they c'd 

 help gettm' ont. I tol' the post-office feller tu send it right 

 stret along." 



"They haint never got it," she reiterated, "fur 'f they 

 hed, Samwel er some on 'em would ha' ben here. An' 

 who knows but what they're all sick er suthin," she sug- 

 gested. 



"Sho, 'taint no ways hkely 't they be, the hull caboodle 

 on 'emalltunncte," he answered. "Wall, anyways, the' 

 liaint no use o' s'misiu' er tewin', we'll git there somevray, 

 tu-uiorrer. Le' me see, haint tu-morrer Tuesday? An' 

 that's the day the mail goes tu Dan vis, an' we c'n gwupin 

 the mail wagin ef the' haint no other way turns up. Come, 

 le's go 'n' git ontu aour shelves oncte more an' go tu sleep. 

 It mus' be as much as ha' past eight." 



So saving he turned to lead the way below, casting as 

 he went a last look on the group still lingering about the 

 wharf. The change of position brought into view a fig- 

 ure which before had not caught his eye, but now sud- 

 denly arrested and held it. It was a man rotund of form 

 and feature who, in the background, leaned against the 

 sidp of a storehouse, while he turned his slow, wondering 

 gaze now^ on the steamer, shrilly singing herself to sleep 

 ill her bertli, now on the almost deserted packet. Uncle 

 Lisha stood still a moment, then caught his wife's arm 

 with one hand while with the other he pointed to the 

 newly revealed figure. 



"Good airth an' seas, Jerushy, ef there haint Jozcff 

 Hill," he cried joyfully, and in the next breath roared so 

 louilly that all eyes were turned toward him, "Jozeff, 

 Jozelf Hid, come here!" while Aunt Jernsha, too shaken 

 with surprise and joy to speak, could only beckon fran- 

 tically. 



Hearing his name called, Joseph Hill stepped hesitatingly 

 forward a little, then stared about him on either hand and 

 behind, till at last, with dawning rec'»gnition, he became 

 aware of the two figures on the canal boat and quickened 

 his steps. "Whv, if 't haint, no 't haint nuther, yis, 't is 

 tather, Sam Hilll Uncle Lusher an' Aunt Jerishy!" he 

 saiil in bewildered joy, and then was shaking hands with 

 both old friends at once across the low gunwale of the 

 boat. 



"Git aboard, git aboard," cried Uncle Lisha, changing 

 the hand-shaking to a lusty pull, "an' then we ch be 

 kinder socierble." 



"Wal, no," said Joseph! carefully examining the nar- 

 now space between the boat and the whai-f, "guess I 

 don't need no boai-d; seem's "ough I c'd step right on t" 

 the boat. It won't tip, will it?" he asked as he stepped 

 carefully on deck. "An" naow, where did you come 

 from an' why didn't you seddaown an' write you was 

 coinin' "fore you started so 's 't some on us could ha' met 

 you, hey?" 



"Why, haint you met us, Jozeff? Wal, what more's 

 wantin'? But you don't say Samwel never got nary 

 letter?" 



"Nary letter, that is tu say, not 'thin tew three mont s; 

 Id' know, mebby taint more'n tew mont's, an' it's on'y 

 jest a happen-so 'at I'm here. I come daown wi' a Ihud 

 o' sawed spreuce shingle fer Morris(m, an' 's long "s I hed 

 tu stay over night and hedn't nothin' tu du, thet is, 

 ntjthin' pertic'lar, I thought I'd come daown an' kinder see 

 the' shippin' an' things. No more idee o' seein' you 'an I 

 hed o' seein' — wal, Noer an' his wife on the ark, I don't 

 b'lieve I hed. But I'm gladder tu see you'n I wou'.d 

 them, a dumb sight. An' now 'f you c'd ride on a hay- 

 riggin'. I've got buffalos an' blankits, I c'n take you right 

 hum tumorrer." 



"Good airth an' seas, we c'd i-ide on a stunboat 'at was 

 goin' tu Danvis, an' glad o' the chance. But le's go 

 daown int' the cabin wli-^reit's more comfortabler." 



"Why, yis." Joseph assented, "'f you'd ruthergo daown 

 suller 'n tu stay on the ruff, I'd jest 's livs, I do' know but 

 I had, though I du kinder spleenagin gittin' nigher the 

 water. I g(jt sunk in a ol' she boat oncte, clear the hull 

 ien'th o' my laigs." 



"Where on airth did you find water deep enough?" 

 Uncle Lisha asked with a chuckle as he glanced at his 

 friend's short nether hmhs and led the way into the cabin. 

 The strange interior with its tier of berths, its many 

 chairs and its long vista of carpeted floor, fiUed Joseph 

 with astonishment. 



"An' haow be you?" he inquired when he regained co- 

 herent speech. "Do' know but I ast you but don't seem's 

 'ough I did. Fact on 't is, meetin' you so onexpected put 

 me all about so I didn't scarcely know which eend my 

 head was on." 



They in their turn asked him much faster than he in 

 his slow, undecided way could well answer, first, concern- 

 ing the welfare of every friend and neighbor, and then, 

 what events, public and private, had lately stirred the 

 placid cm-rent of Danvis life. So they sat talking for an 

 hour, when an irrepressit)le drowsiness made them aware 

 it was late bed-time, and Joseph arose to go, still talking 

 as the two groped their way to the deck. Uncle Lisha saw 

 Joseph safely on the deserted wharf, where he Imgered 

 to repeat his promise to come for them with his wagon 

 "jest as soon arter breakf us as he could hitch up," and 



then plodded away to his lodgings. The sounds of human 

 voices and footsteps had dropped out of the night and the 

 continual dull thunder of the falls alone pervaded it as 

 the old voyagei-s climbed into their berths for the last 

 time and presently fell into a more restful sleep than had 

 come to them for many a night, for now they were almost 

 home and assured of the well-being of their friends. 



Rowland E, Robinson. 



BEARS IN THE CYPRESS. 



It has long been my desire to kill a bear. Bear huntei-s 

 say it is great sport; and that after having killed one you 

 Avill want to kill another, and still another, until you have 

 become renowned as a bear hunter. 



Bear hunters also say that, except in rare cases it is not 

 dangerous sport after the black bear, wliich we have in 

 the South, and tlia.t after you have become an expert you 

 can go to bruin with intrepidity, and standing by his 

 shoulder, throw your arm across his neck and stab him 

 on the opposite side. A sportsman prefers to stab a bear 

 on the off side, so that w-hen the bear throws his head to 

 the side from whence the pain proceeds, he finds nothing 

 but vague emptiness to crunch between his strong jaws. 



My first opportunity to kill a bear was not a very good 

 one. I was with Bill Sellere, who was considered ahout 

 the best .still-hunter in the lower end of the Mississippi 

 Yazoo-Delta Swamp. We were up on the Big Sunflower 

 River, about 120 miles above Vicksburg; and on that par- 

 ticular day were looking for cypress timber. We were 

 traversing a basin, circular in shape, and about eighteen 

 miles around. This basin was, much of it, very low and 

 marshy. It was entirely surrounded by cane. Between 

 the cane and the low ground was an open swamp, with 

 some vines and much palmetto. It was in this palmetto 

 that we were walking from necessity, the cane on our 

 left being almost impenetrable, and the low swamp on 

 our right lieing too boggy for comfortable walking. 



It was a pretty large body of woods, and we had slept 

 in it one night away from our snug camp, having been 

 lost. It was my first sleep in the woods as a lost man. . 

 Sellers said it was not his first, and he seemed to be less 

 annoyed by it than I. I did not enjoy it all. The fact of 

 our having spent one night under such circumstances 

 added somewhat to our anxiety concerning this eighteen- 

 mile circumscribed basin. In fact, we were not so sure 

 that the basin was circular and surrounded by cane, 

 though we had surmised as much, and were proceeding 

 upon that theory. 



The points of the compass and the timepiece were closely 

 watched as we proceeded rather slowly through the thick 

 palmetto and around or over numerous logs, clumps of 

 vines, etc. 



We had left camp early in the morning and expected to 

 consume the entire day in making the circuit. Accord- 

 ing to theory, at noon we should be half-way around and 

 traveling in a course about at right angle to the direction 

 to camp. If we were not pursuing about such lines, there 

 was a disposition on our part to get demoralized and take 

 the back tracks. And Sellers was just about as keen 

 in this idea as I was, notwithstanding he did not mind 

 getting lost and sleeping on wet chunks by a smoky fire! 



But the basin made the turn according to theory, and 

 by 1 o'clock we were bending back toward camp, where 

 there was a snug bed, savory provisions and otlier com- 

 forts, it was half-i^ast 1 o'clock. 



"What you say that is?" Thus spoke the old bear 

 hunter, pointing to a large oak tree with two stout 

 wooden pins about 3ft. above the ground and 1ft. hori- 

 zontally apart, and projecting abotit 1ft. 



I looked at the tree, cogitated and said it was an oak 

 tree with two pins in it. 



"But what were those pins put there for?" 



I gave it up. 



"i ll tell you. Five years ago I bored two holes in that 

 tree with a 2-inch rafting auger, made those pins and 

 drove them in there, tlien got some sticks and made a 

 seat That night I sat there an > killed a large bear." ' 



"Well, how did you know that a bear would be there 

 on that particular night?" 



"Oh, that was easy enough. Just out there lOyds. or 

 so from the tree I had found his 'stepping path.'" 



' ' 'Stepping path !' Wh at's that ?" 



"A stepping path is the path the bear walks in. He 

 travels at certain times in the same path, and is so par- 

 ticular about it that he even steps accurately in the same 

 tracks he made the first time he went along. In con- 

 stantly doing this, often when the ground is wet, the foot 

 prints get to be3or4in. deep. Generally his stepping 

 path is made as he goes from his bed to his water hole. 

 As a rule he likes to sleep in dense cane, but as the cane 

 grows on ridges he can get no water there, and must go 

 to low land for a drink. I figured that this old chap slept 

 in that brake over there, and that he drank at a clay-root 

 over toward the low swamp." 



"Clay-root, what's that?" 



"A clay-root is a tree that has fallen by the root. The 

 hole thus made in the ground by the roots and dirt taken 

 from the ground is generaUy full of water even in the dry- 

 est weather." 



"Oh, that's it, is it? Then Mr. Bear goes down to the 



clay-root to quench his thirst?" 



"That's what, and 1 followed the stepping path down 

 through the woods a piece. The tracks went no further, 

 and 1 just said to myself, 'Old fellow, you are enjoying a 

 fine nap, no doubt, "^just now over there m the cane, but 

 I'U see you later.' So I prepared that seat, being careful 

 to get it to the leeward of the animal when he would come 

 along, for rest assured that the bear h^s a strong smeller. 

 He depends on his nose almost altogether, and scarcely 

 believes his eyes at all. Why, if you stand perfectly still 

 a bear wtU come sometimes quite close to you, but let him 

 get a scent of you, however faint, and he will lumber off 

 through the woods at a great rate, making as mxich noise 

 as a yoke of oxen on a stampede over the same gi-ound." 



"And, Sellers, you say you killed this particular bear?" 



"Well, I sat there and got tired waiting, but about 10 

 o'clock I heard him making a little noise back there and I 

 knew he was coming, and got ready. Just as he came op- 

 posite me, in that open space there, his huge form loomed 

 up and looked larger than it really was. He Avas walking 

 along, and it was almost too dark for a sxive shot, there 

 being no moon, and only starhght. I made a quick shot, 

 when the beast staggered and feh just behind that large 

 sweet-gum you see. I heard him cry in a plaintive way 

 and knew that he was mortally wounded." 



"Did you go to him, then?" 



