Sept. 2a, 1893. J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



249 



and scattered coveys of birds, and if left unsliot this fall 

 another year -will probably renew the stock. 



As nearly all of the boats were lost fishing is at an end. 

 The FoRFST AND Stream conies down here. Can't you 

 suggest to the sportsmen of the vicinity to leave the birds 

 alone this fall? Piseoo. 



OUR HUNTING AND FISHING TRIP. 



If there are any women who read Forest and Stream 

 and have never been with their husbands on a fishing or 

 hunting trip, they do not know what pleasures they have 

 missed. For five years I have been my husband's com- 

 panion when traveling with his gun or rod around his 

 favorite lakes. 



Last fall we started out for a two flays' trip, my hus- 

 band, our boy, myself and his dogs. It was one of" those 

 beautiful days early in Noverhber when it seems as though 

 one must make the most of the few remaining pleasant 

 days, and fairly live out of doors. The first frosts had 

 touched the foliage, tinting it in gorgeous colors, and the 

 birds seemed to be out for one of their last concerts. 



We started Friday afternoon, intending to stay until the 

 next evening, but on reaching our destination. Sand Lake, 

 found everything closed for the season. We had half ex- 

 pected this, and so started on toward Wampler's Lake, 

 wheye the woods are thick, intending to stop if possible 

 with an aged lady who lived with her son and a niece 

 We knew that they lived somewhere near one of the' 

 lakes, and that if we could not get lodgings at the hotel, 

 the season being over, we could with grandma, as we 

 called her. 



It was quite dusk when we arrived at their home, for it 

 took us some time to locate their house. But at last, after 

 a 17-mile drive we were there, and when we had unpacked 

 our limch basket and spread the contents on the table 

 with a good cup of tea, we felt refreshed and ready to 

 make plans for the next day, but first we gave grandma 

 her usual gifts of new pipes and tobacco, and had the 

 satisfaction of seeing her settle down to her long smoke. 



The men planned to have an early breakfast and then 

 start out, get some squirrels and come home in time to 

 prepare them for dinner. Then in the afternoon they 

 were to go out again and get enough for us to bring back 

 home for our Sunday dinner. 



The morning dawned bright and pleasant, and oS they 

 started, each man with a gim and ammunition, and the 

 two boys carrying each a game bag, which they promised 

 to bring back full. Jennie, the niece, and I followed, 

 hoping to keep up and help pick up the squirrels if they 

 fell too fast. But we soon saw that the hunters could 

 outwalk us, and as there wt-re already several rail fences 

 between us, we turned back, determined to try our luck 

 at fishing, A beautiful Httle lake, about half a mile 

 across and said to be full of fish, lay directly opposite the 

 house. 



We had nothing handy in which to catch minnows for 

 bait, so I took the old shovel and went to the garden and 

 dug a can of wormy. Then taking our light bamboo rods 

 we went down to the lake. When we reached the boat 

 we found that one oar was gone and the other broken. 

 This put a check on our expectations, and we were about 

 ready to give up and go back to the house when a trap- 

 per, who had been setting his traps for muskrats, seeing 

 our dilemma, came to our assistance and offered us the 

 use of his boat. We gladly accepted it, promising to 

 leave it for him at his boat house. We asked the trapper 

 if he would kindly tell us where we would find the best 

 fishing and were informed tbat it was too late for bass, 

 and that probably we would fish till noon and not get a 

 bite. This was comforting. 



We had gone too far to give up, however, and after 

 rowing into deep water we anchored and baited oui- 

 hooks and threw in. We were not disappointed in our 

 hope. By noon we had thirteen large bluegills and half 

 as many perch, all good sized, and I think \ve might have 

 had as many more had we not been in a hurry to reach 

 the house before the hunters, so as to have a fish dinner 

 instead of squirrels. 



Hurrying home I made the fire and got the potatoes 

 and other things ready for dinner, while Jennie scaled 

 and cleaned the fish beautifully, and after washing them 

 and dipping them in flour we soon had them frying, and 

 were just taking tliem off when the tramp of the hunters 

 was heard outside. 



We aU went out, even grandma, with her pipe held se- 

 curely in both hands, to see what and how many they had. 

 Not one. They had just missed everything. On this we 

 invited them in to a tempting dinner uf maslied potatoes, 

 cream gravy, aud the handsomest platter of fish they ever- 

 sat down to. Of course they wanted to know at first 

 '•Who we bought our fish of," but we would stop them by 

 taking the game bag and looking for the squirrels which 

 were not in it. 



Just as we had finished our diimer, we were startled by 

 the neighbors' children crying, "Mr. Bordman, come 

 quick, the woods are on fire." One Httle fellow had trav- 

 eled so fast to be the first with the important news, that 

 he could not tell it after he got there. All he could do 

 was to point and gesticulate wildly as he gasped for 

 breath. The men were not slow in taking shovels and 

 hastening to the woods. 



The woods being very dry, had burned a cii-cle of a 

 (quarter of a mile or more, licking up dry grass and leaves 

 in its course, and leaving in the center half bm-ned trees 

 and stumps. The men and boys succeeded in putting the 

 fire out at the outer edge of the circle, confining it to the 

 center, and after smothering it as much as they could, left 

 it to the care of some farmers, who promised to watch 

 imtil they returned. They then proceeded to a strip of 

 wood bordering on the little lake, where Jennie and I had 

 caught the fish in the morning. 



This time they did not come back empty handed, for 

 they had in a little over two hours shot and killed eight 

 nice large squirrels. By this time the wind, which had 

 been blowing a little all day, had become a perfect gale, 

 and they were obhged to hasten back to the fire and 

 work for a couple of hours, which made it too late for us 

 to return home that night. And what with our tramp 

 and rowing, together with all the excitement of the day, 

 I had become too nervous and weary, and all were too 

 tired to ride seventeen miles that night. I was very glad 

 when we could all gather in the evening around the fire 

 and tell of om- day's sport. 



And so ended our two days' sport, and the next morn- 

 ing we bade them good-bye and started for home, taking 

 squirrels enough for a Simday dinner. Mrs. H, L. W, 



"COAHOMA'S" WALKING STICK. 



The last time we had the pleasure of a call from our 

 frequent contributor "Coahoma," who is a chief engineer 

 in charge of a Mississippi River levee district, he told us 

 the story of his walking stick, which he had recently cut 

 on the site of an exciting war-time episode. The story 

 was so interesting that afterward we wrote and asked him 

 to write it out for the Forest and Stream; and here it is: 



I have not until now found time and opportunity to 

 notice your very kind note in which you asked me to 

 give some particulars of a little war episode I once men- 

 tioned to you. I scarcely know what I can say on such 

 a subject that will be suitable to notice in Forest and 

 Stream, but I will briefly give the particulars. 



In December of 1864, I arrived as one of Gen. Hood's 

 army in the vicinity of Nashville, Tenn. Being a sergeant 

 of artillery I was detached with two small Parrott guns— 

 we had no commissioned officer avaflable— to report to a 

 cavalry commander on our extreme left, and took posi- 

 tion on the bank of the Cumberland River, where we re- 

 mained imtil Hood was defeated by Gen. Thomas. We 

 were in this position for about ten days or two weeks and 

 had frequent fights with Federal gunboats. 



On the last day of our occupancy we had a regular duel 

 between one of the httle Parrott rifles (lOpdr.) and an 

 ironclad monitor having two heavy guns in an iron turret, 

 the distance between us being about 300yds. The gunboat 

 lay directly under the other Parrott, which, being on a 

 bluff, could not bear upon her. The gun which I fought 

 was in a, small barbette work, less than 3ft. high, the 

 ground being dug away so that the natural earth formed 

 part of the parapet. We had the advantage over the gun- 

 boat of being about 40ft. above the water. Our plan of 

 fighting was to train the Parrott on the gunboat's port- 

 holes, and as soon as she opened them to thrust her heavy 

 guns forward, our order to fire was given, when we sent 

 our httle percussion shell clattering against her turret 

 near the edge of the port. I don't think we succeeded in 

 sending one into the turret, but I suppose we disconcerted 

 her gunners by the racket we made about their ears, as 

 they never hit us. As soon as we fired, all hands went 

 flat upon the ground until her thundering projectiles 

 passed, or struck the bluff, when in a twinkling we were 

 up, had our gun loaded and sighted, w-aiting for her ports 

 to again open, when bang! we went at her. 



These tactics were kept up for about half an hour, when 

 the gunboat apparently got tired of it and withdrew. The 

 only casualty on our side was a dent in the gun axle made 

 by a fragment of shell or a large grape shot; and I don't 

 think we hurt the gunboat, except that we knocked off 

 some of her woodwork. We were backed by only a 

 handful of badly scared cavalry, who had dug a ditch too 

 deep to shoot out of, except up in the air, and lay in the 

 bottom of it. If the commander of the gunboat had 

 known it he could have landed his men and captured us. 



Later in the day a cavairy soldier appeared on the op- 

 posite bank of the Cumberland and shouted to us to help 

 him over, that he was one of Forrest's scouts. I sent two 

 men on a stage plank of a captured transport (the stage 

 plank we used as a ferryboat). The scout stripped himself 

 and his horse, placed his clothes and saddle on the stage, 

 and mounting Ms horse rode into the stream and swam 

 across, though it was a cold, bleak day. He came over 

 shouting, and came out as red as a boiled lobster. 



While getting the scout over I received orders to move 

 out to the pike, about a quarter of a mile from the river. 

 Not supposing there was any need to hurry I waited for 

 the two men to return and then moved out slowly over 

 difficult ground. Upon reaching the pike I encountered 

 a column of Confederate cavalry going down the pike 

 under whip and spur, closely pursued by Federal cavalry, 

 who were peppering them with their carbines. Looking 

 aroimd, I discovered that the place I had just vacated was 

 filled with bluecoats, who had come stealthily over a hiU 

 and swooped down on an empty nest. 



We joined in the stampede for a mile and a half and 

 then took up a position on a ridge and repulsed a cavalry 

 charge. I then learned for the first time that the two 

 main armies had been fighting a regular engagement for 

 two days, and that Hood was completely routed. 



I was then turned loose by the cavairy commander, 

 and wandered across country all night, not knowing where 

 I would find myself in the morning; but struck the flank 

 of the disorganized Confederates about sunrise, and will 

 here drop the curtain. 



On tlie above occasion I saw the steeplps in Nashville 

 but nothing more. Twenty-seven years after I visited 

 NashviUe for the first time, and sought the place where I 

 had fought on the bank of the Cumberland, six miles be- 

 low the city. I foimd that the old field where my httle 

 barbette parapets were located, had become a forest, and 

 I succeeded in finding the place only by the aid of a 

 gentleman, who Hved in a brick house near by, who was 

 Living there, a httle boy, at the time of the fighting. His 

 father had been kiUed in his own yard by a Federal bifllet. 

 His mother and her children were in the ceUar when a 

 large shell went through the liouse, the marks of which 

 were still visible. 



I cut the two walking canes, of which I told you, on 

 the ground where my guns had stood; one of the sticks 

 is before me now; the other I gave to my son. 



Coahoma. 



A Wounded Woodcock. 



Saoters, Pa., Sept. 4^.— Editor Forest and Stream: On 

 Aug. 18, while working a brace of young setters, I shot at 

 a woodcock which I thought dropped dead, but I was 

 unable to find it. This A. M. (Sept. 4) I was working a 

 setter and pointer over the same ground, when I 

 flushed a woodcock which acted like a cripple. Fol- 

 lowing the course it took, and sending on Dan (pointer), 

 he caught the scent and swung round, half pointed and 

 then jumped and caught a bird which he brought in. Its 

 left leg had been broken twice, the upper fracture had 

 knit straight, the lower benlf, causing it to walk on the 

 side of its foot. One shot had gone thi-ough its upper 

 mandible, and this had healed up, it had been shot in the 

 breast which had not yet healed, but what surprised me 

 most was the good condition of the bird. 



I carried it home, and after 'showing to friends, gave it 

 its liberty, hoping it would be the means of giving pleas- 

 ure to another sportsman and his dog. R. F. M. 



President Caeveland caught a shark the other day. On cultiiig the 

 fish open It was found to contain a carpetbag, two paper collars, a pe- 

 tition for appointment as postmaster at Wildcat City, Ga., and sixteen 

 teatiuionials as to litness and character,— i^osio/i Tramoript, 



TOLD BY A BOHEMIAN. 



You never saw a cougar in a wild state? Then you have 

 something to see yet. I saw a couple out on Puget Sound 

 some years ago and wouldn't have missed the experience 

 for a good deal. Two of us were cruising in a sloop, and 

 anchored one night in a little bay near the mouth of 

 Hood's Canal, and while here we witnessed a battle which 

 would put to shame the amphitheatres of ancient Rome, 

 A sloping beach of hard white sand shone in the moon- 

 light, running from the overhanging cedars out to the 

 water. 



It was a beautiful evening, not a ripple stirring the sur- 

 face of the water, and so still that the long-drawn, waver- 

 ing cries of the sea birds came down the water with that 

 distinct but subdued effect that night and darkness lend to 

 sound. An occasional puffing hiss, like escaping steam, 

 came from seaward, as some hungry porpoise, bent on 

 hunting a late supper, came to the surface for air. Or 

 maybe a silvery gleam and a splash close by showed a 

 salmon, which in playful mood has leaped clear of the 

 water. We were both on deck smoking an after supper 

 pipe and enjoying the evening as we swung at anchor 

 after a hard day of short tacks and tedious sailing in our 

 big salt river, against wind and tide most of the time. 



Without a particle of warning the wildest, weirdest cry 

 that it has every been my fortune to hear, rung out on the 

 evening air, a little to the west, where a spur of hills ran 

 almost to the water, and so close to us that it had a clear, 

 metalhc kind of a ring about it. The echoes had hardly 

 ceased to call back before the answer came from the 

 northward, close enough and ghostly enough in tone to 

 send cold chills down your back. 



A few moments of deathlike stillness succeeded the 

 screeches, the sea birds stopped their calls, and even the 

 fish seemed to have heard those blood- stopping chal- 

 lenges. 



Soon they called again, answering back and forth, each 

 time a little nearer the beach and nearer our anchorage. 

 Our pipes were out and the night glass swept the dark 

 edge of the cedar belt which marked the beach limit. 

 The tide was on the ebb, almost turning. 



A twig snapped and clear from the cedar belt bounded 

 an immense old cougar, or motmtain lion, plowing up the 

 sand with his feet as he stopped. He was a magnificent 

 specimen, a splendid representation of his kind as he 

 stood there, his tawny hide gleaming in the moonlight, 

 every muscle taut, eyes glaring and tail twitching f roni 

 side to side; the very personification of animal strength 

 and beauty. The gurgle of the incoming tide made a 

 subdued accompaniment to the low, ominous growl of 

 this king of American beasts. 



A rusthng in the cedars announces the second one. A 

 mighty bound carries him far out on the beach, a yellow 

 demon full of fight. 



The first is a large one, but here is his counterpart. 

 Two wild gladiators, a picked pair and each worthy his 

 adversary. 



The moment their eyes met they crouched along the 

 sand, with muscles drawn and set with steel-like tension, 

 feet bunched ready for an instant spring, glaring at 

 each other like two tawny fiends, but made no move save 

 a spasmodic jerking and "twitching of the tail, exactly as 

 you have seen the house cat do. 



Ah! The time is ripe for action. 



Of one accord, as though released by an electric but- 

 ton, they leap up and meet in mid air. 



Such a sight is seldom within the province of humanity 

 to witness. 



Such furious fighting. 



They rise on their hindfeet, clinch with the front ones, 

 topple over, kicking, biting and scratching, sending the 

 white sand flying in showers. 



Now they separate, seemingly by mutual consent, and 

 retire a_ short distance apart, where they lie a few mo- 

 ments Ucking their wounds and growUng incessantly 

 until one makes a false move and the other meets him 

 half way, then they are at it again. 



Scratch. Rip. Bite. 



How the sand ffies! It takes endurance to stand that 

 very long. 



Dark spots begin to show against the white of the sand. 

 Those terrible kicks cut skin and flesh, wherever the 

 knife-like claws touch. The object seems to be to dis- 

 embowel the adversary. They separate as before, but 

 this time there is less growhng and more licking of 

 wounds, as several false alarms cause them to start up, 

 muttering hoarsely as they lay their ears flat along the 

 head, draw their bloody chops up and show the gleaming 

 fangs, sharp and cruel as stilettoes, alert and watchful for 

 advantage, then slowly settle back uneasily on the sand, 

 to lie full length with heads slightly raised, watching. 

 The tail keeps up that incessant twitch, twitch, in a dog- 

 ged sort of way that speaks volumes. This alternate 

 fighting and resting is kept up for quite an hour without 

 either gaining the advantage. Black spots show aU about 

 the beach, and when they he down a dark mass marks 

 the bed against the pale color of the sand. 



They are losing too much blood to last long. Finally 

 they seem to gather their remaining strength for a final 

 effort and rush at it again. 



Now one is forced back, fighting like a demon, and both 

 go down, roUing, pitching and tumbling. 



The flying sand nearly hides them; now it clears away 

 and shows one standing with uplifted paw and open 

 mouth over the body of the other, which lies very still. 

 The one is comparatively strong, but the other is clearly 

 done for. They both seem to realize this, too. Slowly 

 the uplifted paw descends, the jaws close more, the ears 

 rise a little and he turns away, watching back over his 

 shoulder for signs of attack. 



Very httle growling is heard now, and what there is is 

 of a hoarse, guttural tone, more of pain than reckless 

 challenge. In a little while the second one staggers to his 

 feet, sways and falls back, only to make a second, and 

 this time successful attempt. 



No wonder he staggers. 



The last round has hterally disemboweled him, and the 

 intestines drag on the sand as the poor brute, no longer a 

 demon incarnate, tries to gain the friendly shelter of the 

 dark forest. He is about 1.5 or 20 minutes dragging him- 

 self across the short strip of beach, and at last lurches out 

 of sight among the dark shadows of the cedars. 



The other lies on his side, still muttering hoarsely at 



