April 6, 1893.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



293 



' 'Not much- I have no use for a bear killed at night 

 until next morning after good light." 



"Next morning what did you do with him!" 



"I went to tlie plantation on the Simfiower, got a mule 

 and dragged him to the river, loaded him on the first 

 down stream boat and sent him to Vicksburg." 



And thus Sellers and I conversed, he as instructor and I 

 as pupil m the first rudiments in bear lore. We walked 

 on perhaps half a mile further, when the old raftsman, 

 for that had been his lifelong business, stopped and began 

 an examination of the ground. To the uneducated eye 

 there was no visible sign. He scraped the leaves away 

 and there was a slight depression. 



"Let's follow this a way and see where it leads to," say- 

 ing which Sellers led off toward the low swamp. At dis- 

 tances of a few yards he would remove the leaves, at each 

 operation exj^osuig a depression similar in shape to the 

 first. On going further the ground became moist and the 

 signs gradually grew deeper, until they were 2 or Sin. 

 deep. After walking about 200yds. we came to a ' 'clay- 

 root" with water in the hole made by the uprooted tree. 



"Ah! a,s I expected. Now, these tracks we have been 

 following is a bear's 'stepping path,' and this fallen tree, 

 with water hole, is a clay-root. The sign is fresh, and 

 bruin at this moment is back yonder in the cane asleep, 

 no doubt." 



"Let's kUl him, I want to kiU a bear, I must kill a 

 bear. How is the best way to proceed?" 



The best way to proceed is to proceed slowly. We can't 

 kill him to-night." 



"Why?" 



"Simply because, in the first place, we ai*e about eight 

 miles from camp, without a bite to eat, and to attempt 

 the job to-night is too great an undertaking on tin empty 

 stomach, and in the second place we must get a 'needle' 

 gun for the work." 



"Why a needle gun? What is the matter with this 

 9ilb. 10-gauge of mine?" 



"Oh, it would be too much risk shooting a bear with 

 that gun." 



"It shoots buckshot splendidly and I have a couple of 

 cartridges heavily loaded. I could blow him into 

 smithereens with one such charge." 



"Yes, and wound him and be chawed into smithereens 

 by him. I'm not going to monkey with a bear with a 

 load of buckshot. There are hunters who take risks of 

 that kind, but just now I have a valuable family that is 

 in very much need of me for support. I prefer to deal 

 out to bruin unmitigated death the first shot with a 

 .oOcal. chunk of lead." 



"WeU, Sellers, you are years older than I as to age, and 

 as to experience in bear hunting your are centuries old, 

 while I am yet in the nursery; and, while I am anxious, 

 very anxious is more befititmg, I mu§t accede to your 

 judgment. But it makes me sick to leave this neck of 

 woods without some bear meat. If we must go to camp, 

 let us move along or we will sleep another night in the 

 woods away from camp." 



An hour or so after leaving the fresh stepj)ing path 

 Sellers became interested in a cypress, and as it was not 

 a prepossessing tree and we having passed hundreds of 

 much better looking ones, I was curious to inquire the 

 cause of his interest in this particular one. 



"Why, don't you see those scratches on this tree; look at 

 this, and that higher up," replied S. as he pointed over 

 the body of the tree. 



"Well, who did that you reckon? No telegraph or tele- 

 phone line tlu'ough here is there to cause linemen to 

 climb up there?" 



"Oh, no. That's another bear's stepping path." 



"Has he got a clay-root and a water-hole up there?" 



"He has got something up there that will draw him 

 further than water." 



"A pair of cubs? Let's go on to camp. Isn't a female 

 with young somewhat on the fight?" 



' 'This cypress is a bee tree. There is or was honey in 

 this tree a.nd the bear has been going up there to satisfy 

 his sweet tooth. He smelt the honey while he was 

 rambling through the woods and has trailed it up with 

 that fine nose of his. As a mle he don't like to climb a 

 tall tree like that, but if there is anything on earth that 

 Avould make him do it, it is honey, as he is veiy fond 

 of it." 



"Let's take a stand here and kill him. Sellers, I must 

 kill a bear. You go on to camp. I'U risk my gun on this 

 fellow," 



"How long would you be willing to sit for him?" 

 "About a week." 



"Well, you would have to stay here about eight months 

 and probably longer, to get a shot at that fellow. He has 

 already robbed that hive up there, and will not be back 

 until the roses bloom again," 



"Then, what in the tarnation is the sense wasting time 

 on a useless stepping-path like that? We had better be 

 pushing for that nice bed we made so inviting. You know 

 the cover is already turned down." 



And sleep on that bed we did, but not until after a pro- 

 digious sux^per, which our long tramp made us relish to an 

 amazing extent. 



The next morning, while yet under the blankets, S. and 



I entered into a conversation as to plans for bringing the 

 bear to bag. Sellers would go over to the plantation dur- 

 ing the day and borrow the deadly needle gun. The next 

 day we would go to the stepping-path, and taking a 

 favorable location, wait for the game. I was to do the 

 shooting, and have the glory of bringing the game to bag. 

 S. was simply to be an onlooker, and further than tha.t 

 was to take no part. 



Having arranged the matter, I became considerably 

 elated over the prospect, and in anticipation I could hear 

 old bruin back toward the cane, making a slight noise at 

 first, then more distinct, and presently could see him. 

 when very soon he was opposite me in full view, when I 

 raised the long and rmwieldy needle gun and let drive. 

 A fearful rush, a crashing through the woods for a short 

 distance, then a f aU, and the j)iteous cry, and I knew the 

 work was done. 



Did I say in anticipation? I must have gone to sleep 

 again and dreamed it, the picture was so natural. 



We did not rise early. The long tramp around the 

 basin had made us tired and stiffened our joints. It took 

 some time to make a roaring fire, and much longer to pre- 

 pare a warm breakfast. It must have been nine o'clock 

 before the dishes, such few as we had, were in order, and 

 jsyerything about camp in shape for the day's outing, 



"Well, now for the needle gun?" S. remarked as he took 

 a twist on his camp stool toward me. 



WeU, why do you put that with the rising inflection?" 



"That is your bear now and I am at your service." 



"And you propose to serve me by going four miles for 

 a gvm and back again, eight miles ?" 



"Just so." 



"And then you propose to go with me to-morrow eight 

 miles to the bear, carrying provisions and blankets for 

 sleeping out all night; after having seen me kill the beast 

 returning the next day to camp ? That's two days and 

 one night at my service; you are a very clever old chap 

 and I appreciate it. Say, after having killed the bear 

 how will we get him home ?" 



"Go to the plantation, get a mule and haul him out." 



' 'Why not get the mule and take him with us ?" 



"Oh, let's get the bear first." 



"Get the bear first, that's best. It would be rather a 

 nice joke on us to get the mule and then fail on the other 

 part. S. , have you figured on this thing ? Four miles to 

 Sunflower River, four back, that's eight; eight miles to 

 the game, that's sixteen; eight back, twenty-four; now 

 repeat the pei'formance for the mule and we have a grand 

 total of forty-eight miles. And you say the bear has to 

 be killed after night ?" 



"Exactly, He will come out between dusk and 10 

 o'clock as sm-e as the sun goes down." 



"And you have suggested that I might not kill him?" 



"Certainly, and that is why I prefer to go along. You 

 also have an interesting family that leans upon you for a 

 support. Should you make a mess of the business by an 

 awkward shot you might need the help of an old hand 

 about that time, I would not like to go home to your 

 family with your mangled remains." 



' 'Is a bear vicious that way ?" 



"When he has an ugly wound," 



"And is he hard to kill?" 



"He must be shot in a vital spot." 



"Well, suppose you kill him then ?" 



"No, no; that's your bear. I have tirrned him over to 

 you. You must do the shooting." 



"Sellers, I think it's going to rain.' 



"Likely." 



"And turn cold." 



"Probably." 



"And snow." 



"It has done the Uke." 



"Wouldn't it be fearful out in that palmetto swamp 

 without cover in such weather?" 

 "I have been out in such." 

 ' 'To kill a bear?" 

 "Yes." 



"Well, it is different with you. You a,re robust and 

 have been used all your life to exposure. I am different, 

 rather unhealthy, unused to the rigore of severe weather. 

 I am very sorry, for I want that bear. Gracious! why 

 didn't he locate on our side of the basin. I could have 

 showed 3^ou then something about my marksmanship. 

 I could kill that bear too dead to kick." 



"And ain't you going to kill liim after all?" 



"Have you got a two-inch auger?" 



"No." 



"And we can't have a seat. That seettles it. Why 

 didn't you say before you had no auger? What are you 

 laughing about?" 



"You remind me of a little story about another fellow 

 who wanted to kill a bear fully as badly as you, and if 

 you don't mind I'U tell it." 



"WeU, let's have it." 



"He was something of a novice in the woods and had 

 never kiUed anything larger than a fat squirrel, and as 

 he was Uterally spoihng for big game, he was taken into 

 the -woods by an experienced hunter, who after some 

 search, f oimd a favorable location about one mile back 

 from the clearing. About sundown he was shown a large 

 log which spanned a bayou. Certain tracks like those 

 I showed you out yonder led up to this log at one end and 

 away from it at the other. 'Now, my friend,' began the 

 old hunter, 'you sit right here on this log. It is the cer- 

 tain crossing of bear. These woods are full of them, some 

 very large. You will not have to wait more than two or 

 three hours before one will cross here or attempt it. He 

 is as sure to come here as it is to get dark. I'll bid you 

 good-night.' Well, the yovmg would-be bear slayer sat 

 down and his companion left. When the sun goes down 

 the woods very soon grow dark. At such times the sur- 

 roundings become very lonely, even to us old campers 

 who have spent many a, night without company in these 

 solitudes. Soon, very soon, no doubt, the man on the log 

 grew restless. The birds hushed, and not a sound could 

 be heard as night came on. He turned about on the log 

 several times in an uncomfortable way. After a bit it 

 occurred to him that brain would probably be due in a 

 few moments. Aboiit that time he heard a slight noise 

 away down in the black swamp. It was only a stick 

 that cracked, but it was enough to get his attention. 

 Quite soon he heard another crack, and apparently a 

 Uttle closer. He looked at his gnm, turned on the log 

 again and got up. If the bear had come then and been 

 very quick about it he might have lent aid to a disturb- 

 ance at the crossing. But it would have taken a mighty 

 quick bear to have been there on time. There had been 

 too many preliminaries. Just then the amateur sports- 

 man had urgent business in the direction of the clearing, 

 and if he was not there on schedtde time it was no fault 

 of his. It was a rather peculiar tale he told about com- 

 ing out of the woods without a shot so early in the even- 

 ing, and the smile that went arotmd the fireside as he 

 told it could have been heard a long way off. " 



"SeUers, that feUow was a grand coward. I would 

 rather been eaten up alive than to have fled so precipi- 

 tously. Gads! if you could find me a log like that, and so 

 near habitation, and such weather, I'd sit there and shoot 

 bears aU night. To blazes with the vast solitudes of the 

 woods, with hushed birds in the f oregi-ound, and cracking 

 of sticks in the background. You go get a log like that." 



"Yes!" came from my companion, with an inflection of 

 sarcasm, and ending fm-ther controversy. 



In extenuation of the f ai-cical affair, I wiU add that 

 within an hour after closing the coUoquy, a heavy rain 

 set in which continued without cessation for twenty-four 

 hours. It tlien changed to a sleet with a biting wind out 

 of the northwest. That night a freeze set in which con- 

 tinued for three days. I thought such unfavorable condi- 

 tions ought to have excused me, but my companion pur- 

 posely seemed to a-voi^ pjiy conversation concerning his 



bearship on Conner Bayou. Evidently he was not greatly 

 impressed with the vast c[uantity of pent up bear killing 

 proclivity which I contaiiied, W. L. P, 



ViCKSBlTRG, Miss. 



THE SENSE OF DIRECTION. 



It is diflicult for us to imagine what a sixth sense may 

 be like, but that is no argument against its existence. It 

 is said that a sixth sense, properly speaking, requires an 

 organ, but this seems doubtful. The sense of touch has 

 no specific organ. Though principally developed in the 

 skin, it doubtless exists elsewhere. 



That all animals preserve in their movements an im- 

 pression of the relations of distance and direction between 

 various points is perfectly clear. This power is developed 

 to a limited extent in man. It is doubtless very closely 

 related to memorj'-, but is it memory? If it were its pro- 

 cesses would be somewhat along the line of a surveyor's 

 chart. We should recaU that we traveled in such a direc- 

 tion so far, then turned to right or left at a certain angle, 

 continued in the new course to a certain point, etc. 



But do we, even unconsciously, follow up such a chain 

 of recoUcctions? I think those who have had experience 

 in field and forest will bear me out in the opinion that it 

 is only when we suspect that we have lost our bearings 

 that we begin to try to map out our movements, and that 

 even then we usually fail. Especially if we are "lost," as 

 it is called, the mistaken verdict of our sense of direction 

 (let us call it that for the present for lack of a better 

 name) wiU successfully give the lie to any but the most 

 outrigh t evidence. In such a state we will take the wrong 

 end of a familiar road, or will doubt the evidence of the 

 compass and even of the sun in the sky. 



This judgment seems to be an unconscious process. It 

 is a natural endowment which some possess in a higher 

 degree than others, and while it seems capable of some 

 development there are individuals who can never possess 

 it except in the very lowest form. To be properly called 

 a sense it shotdd have both a physical and a mental side. 

 Although rather diflicult of analysis, it would seem 

 comparitively easy to establish that this condition is ful- 

 filled. 



It is a matter of common observance, no doubt, that 

 one "loses his east," as the Spanish has it, more readily 

 in a vehicle than on foot, and more readUy in a closed 

 than in an open vehicle. From this we may infer that 

 in man the physical elements are a sort of muscular per- 

 ception of movement combined with and corrected by the 

 products of the sense of sight. That we need the latter 

 element is apparent from the fact that it is almost im- 

 possible for a blindfolded man to walk in a fixed direc- 

 tion. But the former is also important, as we see by the 

 ease with which we lose our bearings on shipboard or on 

 a train, although we may have a perfectly unobstructed 

 view of all the surroundings. Its results seem to depend 

 almost entirely upon the violence of the movements and 

 the sensations which accompany them. When move- 

 ment is without sensation we are unconscious of its 

 direction and even of its existence. This torpidity of 

 our natural endowment has taught the eye and ear to be 

 ever on the alert to supplement with their products its 

 uncertain results. 



Animals, however, in a state of nature seem to have 

 little need of sight. Shut up in a baggage car a dog will 

 make a long journey without losing the bearings of his . 

 home. I can hardly believe that he follows a conscious 

 course of reasoning. Something within him gives him 

 the capacity to perceive the relations of each place in 

 which he may find himself with that home upon which, 

 perhaps, his mind is all the time brooding. This some- 

 thing is a result of his consciousness in contact with the 

 various objects which surround him, taking note of their 

 change of place by some peculiar sensitiveness which baf- 

 fles our analysis. Why not call it a sense? 



Some might prefer to call it an instinct. And in so far 

 as it appears most perfect in a state of nature, even dimin- 

 ishing as animals rise in the scale of intelligence, it cer- 

 tainly has points in common with those mysteriotis 

 facilities which we call instinct. But this is true of 

 nearly all physical functions. It is common, moreover, 

 to Uniit the word instinct to those fines of action which 

 are incapable of development, and which admit of abso- 

 lutely no physical explanation. But this power of judg- 

 ing direction doubtless has a physical element. Darwin 

 found that it corUd be frustrated in bees by rapidly twirl- 

 ing the closed boxes m which they were carried away 

 from the hive. Its products, then— the rapid and usually 

 uncoj-iscious appropriation of certain peculiar impressions, 

 which may perhaps be most naturally attributed to a sort 

 of muscular correlation — must be very closely allied to 

 sense jjroducts. 



The fact that we cannot analyze the process and locate 

 the seat of this sense is hardly a sufficient argument 

 against its existence. Highways, signboards and gregari- 

 ous traveling have so long made it useless to us that 

 nature has quietly disposed of mo.st of our original abiUty 

 in this line. But we all have an instinctive feeling that 

 that there ought to be such a sense, as witness the efforts 

 which one makes to "feel of himself" in order to decide 

 in which direction he is being carried by a slowly moving 

 train. His dog Avould doubtless know perfectly, and 

 without effort. Aztec. 



San Luis Fotosi , Mesico. 



Indian Partridges for America. 



New York, March 39. — On board the steamer Cufic, 

 which has just arrived from Liverpool, there are a dozen 

 partridges consigned to my care for Dr. W. O. Blaisdell, 

 of Macomb, lU. They were shipped from Karachi by 

 Mr. James Cunie, the U. S. Consular Agent of that place, 

 and are being imported by Dr. BlaisdeU for the purpose of 

 cross-breeding with our native birds. This is the second 

 importation which Dr. BlaisdeU has made. They will be 

 shipped to the West by express this afternoon. 



E. B. Goldsmith. 



Otters in ' i Pennsylvania. 



Oil ■ City, Pa.— Let me teU your correspondent "Ony- 

 jutta," of Juniatta county, that we have otters within a 

 few mUes of OU City. P. Carpenter, eight mUes up the 

 AUegheny River, caught two some time ago, one a very 

 fine speciinen. Baenby. 



