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FOREST AND STREAM. 



rOCT. 21, 1893. 



THE GLADNESS OF AUTUMN. 



Who sings of sadness in this happy hour 

 When he is blest who can but breathe the air 

 Of this October day 1 Who sings of death 

 And melancholy days, and woods all sere; 

 Of withered branch and leaf returned to dust, 

 Of blight, and frost, and sombre autumn skies I 

 I sing of joy, of that supremest mood 

 When all-exalted, man and nature reap 

 Fruition from a cycle's earnest toil ! 

 Who that can gaze upon New England hills 

 Clad in their cloth of gold, the lambent air 

 Pulsing with softest haze, the scent of leaves 

 And all the forces of the autumn wood 

 Distilling ptultres sweeter far than June — 

 Who can so look and feel no leaping stir 

 Of all that sluggish tide which gives him life, 

 A sense of living, working, conquering all 

 The petty obstacles that hedge him round 1 

 Who talks of lying down to rest, and longs 

 For all the sad and wasting panoiilies 

 Of self -afflicted woes — to him say I, 

 Eise up I Fill all thy lungs with gladness full, 

 Make thou thy name npon the walls of fame; 

 Achieve, and put thy strength to earnest test! 

 For nature lies not down to unearned rest, 

 Kor does the soft susurrus of the wind 

 Lull her to well deserved repose until 

 Her work is done; then gently breathes o'er all 

 A final benison of falling leaves! 



Wedworth Wadswokth. 



THE WOMAN FROM SITTING BULL'S. 



In the fall of 1879, Paul Sandusky, Jo Hamilton and I 

 built our winter quarters on Flat Willow Creek, about 

 twenty miles east of the Snowy Mountains. The country 

 was still infested with roving war parties from the differ- 

 ent tribes, some coming from Sitting Bull's camj), then on 

 the Big Bend of Milk River. 



As we intended to do some trading with the friendly 

 tribes, especially the Crows and Blackfeet, we built com- 

 modious quarters, consisting of .two buildings facing each 

 other and about forty feet ajiart, and containing altogether 

 five rooms. Joining onto the "Fort"— as we called it— 

 we constructed a high stockade corral for the horses. 



Game of all kinds was then very abundant, and bands 

 of elk and antelope could be seen almost daily within a 

 mile or so of our place. Glad to have company, we gave 

 free quarters to all hunters and trappers who cared to stop 

 with us, and by March 1 we numbered eleven men, in- 

 cluding our cook, "Nigger Andy." 



A few hundred yards below our "fort" a little creek, 

 which we named Beaver Castor, joined the Flat Willow. 

 For some miles above its mouth it flowed through a deep 

 cut in the prairie, bordered with sage brush and willows. 

 At its junction with the Flat Willow, in the Y formed by 

 the two creeks, was quite a high butte. It slojied up very 

 gently from the Flat Willow side, but was almost a cut 

 bank on the Beaver Castor side. 



This butte was our watch tower. From its summit we 

 could see miles and miles of the surrounding country. 

 One morning in March most of the men went out ante- 

 lope hunting, leaving four of us in camp— Jo Healy, laid 

 up with rheumatism; Harry Morgan, the herder; the cook 

 and myself. About 10 o'clock this morning I concluded 

 to take a hunt, and before catching up a horse I climbed 

 the butte to see if I could spy a band of elk or antelope 

 near by. As soon as I reached the summit I saw some 

 moving forms on the prairie not far oS, near Beaver Cas- 

 tor, and adjusting my glass, I found that they were a large 

 war party of Indians afoot. They also saw me, for I saw 

 several of them stop and level their telescopes at me. I 

 took pains to let them know I was not an Indian, for I 

 strutted about with long strides and faced them with arms 

 akimbo. Finally, as they came close, I backed down 

 from the summit, very slowly, and placing a buffalo chip 

 on top of a bush, so as to make them think I was still 

 watching them, I dashed for the fort. 



I found that the horse herder had caught up an animal 

 and gone out hunting; so grabbing a lariat I ran out to 

 drive in the band, which was grazing nearly a mile from 

 the house. I went down as fast as I could run, but f oimd 

 that I couldn't get within roping distance of a single an- 

 imal. They had been in the corral all night as usual, and 

 in spite of my efforts they kept straggling and feeding 

 along, and every minute I expected the war party to 

 swoop down on me. However, I finally got them home 

 and into the corral, and my clothing wet with perspira- 

 tion I sat down to get my wind. 



In the meantime Andy had not been idle. He had 

 placed all our spare arms and ammunition by the loop- 

 holes, had dragged Healy, bed and all, to a place of van- 

 tage, where he could shoot without hurting his rheumatic 

 legs, and had then gone on preparing our dinner. So we 

 waited and watched, expecting every minute to be attacked. 

 But no Indians came. We had our dinner, and as the 

 afternoon passed the boys kept straggling in hy ones and 

 twos, until by 5 o'clock all were home. None of them 

 had seen any Indians. 



Finally I proposed that two or three of us get om- horses 

 and make a reconnoissance. 



"We don't want no horses," said Sagebrush Charlie, 

 "just you and me go up on the butte and take alook from 

 there." 



I didn't like the proposition, for I surmised that the 

 war party were concealed in the brush on Beaver Castor, 

 probably near the butte. But on the other hand I didn't 

 care to be bluffed, so I went with him. 



As we neared the top of the butte we proceeded very 

 cautiously, moving only a step at a time. Only a few 

 yards more and we would have reached the summit, when 

 we saw that an Indian on the opposite side of the butte 

 was looking at us. We could see nothing of him but his 

 head, and of course he could see only our heads. Thus 

 we stood facing each other for what to me seemed a long 

 time. "Shall we shoot?" asked Sagebrush. "No," I re- 

 plied. "If we advance to shoot he will have the 'best of 

 it, and if he advances we will have the edge on him." So ) 

 we continued to stare at him. After a while I saw that 

 the Indian was beginning to back down out of sight so I j 



did the same. I made only a step and he had disap- 

 peared, but I kept backing away, watching the top of the 

 butte, with rifl.e codked ready to shoot in an instant. 

 When half way down I turned to run and saw Sagebrush 

 just disappearing around the corner of the fort. Until 

 then I had supposed that he was at my side. So calling 

 him some name, I fairly flew down the hill, expecting 

 every minute to have a shower of bullets about my ears. 

 But I too reached the fort without any sign from the 

 enemy. 



When I got inside I found the boys joking "Sage- 

 brush" about leaving me, and seeing that he was 

 ashamed of himself I said nothing to him, although I 

 was quite angry at him. 



As soon as it was dark we put on a double guard, and 

 kept ourselves in readiness for an attack. Late in the 

 evening we concluded that the Indians would make a 

 daylight raid on us, so we arranged about guard duty 

 and slept by turns. However, we heard nothing of our 

 dusky friends, and at 6 o'clock the cook called breakfast 

 as usual. The horses had now been in the corral nearly 

 twenty-four hours and were very hungry, so four of us 

 saddled up and went out to make a big circle and find 

 out if our friends had left us. We went down Flat 

 Willow a mUe or more, then swung up on to the prairie, 

 crossed Beaver Castor and headed home, but could see 

 no Indian signs. Finally we went up on top of the butte, 

 where Sagebrush and I had seen the Indian the night 

 before. There in the loose shale we found his tracks, 

 and saw that after backing down a little ways he had, 

 like us, turned and rim by mighty leaps to the bottom. 

 There we found a great number of tracks and a lot of 

 moccasins, some meat, etc, and following the trail we 

 found that the Indians had crossed Beaver Castor and 

 gone up on to the prairie, where in the thick dry grass 

 we lost all traces of them, and concluding that they had 

 left we went home and turned the horses out to feed, 

 with the hei'der and one other man to herd them. 



After dinner, perhaps 2 or 3 o'clock, we saw a person 

 on foot come down on to the creek from the prairie, 

 about half a mile below the house, I went down to see 

 who it was, and found to my surprise that it was a lone 

 Indian woman, and as soon as I came up to her she 

 began to talk to me in a language which I at once knew 

 to be Nez Perces, but which I could not imderstand. I 

 replied to her in Sioux, and found that she understood 

 and could speak a little of that tongue, and by piecing 

 it out with signs we got along very well. I told her to 

 go up to the fort with me and get something to eat, and 

 afterward she could tell us her story. When we reached 

 the place the boys all crowded around and stared at her, 

 and asked all sorts of questions, but I told them to wait, 

 and we would hear what she had to say. 



The woman didn't seem to be at all embarrassed. She 

 sat at the table and calmly and slowly ate the food the 

 cook set before her, not heeding the ten or eleven pairs 

 of eyes that were intentl}'^ watching her. After she had 

 finished eating I asked her to tell us where she had come 

 from, where she was going and all about herself, and I 

 interpreted her tale, sentence by sentence, to the boys. She 

 said: "I came from Sitting Bull's camp on Milk River, 

 when some of my people, Nez Perces, are living with the 

 Sioux. Two years ago, my son went with some Sioux 

 and Nez Perces to war against the Crows. They had a 

 big fight on the Yellowstone, and it was supposed that 

 my son was killed. But not long ago I heard that the 

 Crows had captured my boy, and that he is still living 

 and in the Crow camp. Having no relatives and no hus- 

 band, I made up my mind to go and live with my son, and 

 started out; this is the twenty-third day since 1 left Milk 

 River, I have been starved most of the time and am veiy 

 tii-ed," 



"Hush!" said one of the boys, "That's too durncd thin, 

 I move that we hang her right now." 



At this, every one began to talk at once. Some said 

 she was a spy, others that she was all right. 



Finally I said to her, "The boys, some of them, think 

 you are not telling the truth. Yesterday a big war party 

 was here, and they think you belong to that outfit," 



"How they lie," she interposed, "I haven't seen an 

 Indian since I left Milk Eiver." 



"That may be," I replied, "you cannot blame the boys 

 for being a little suspicious. However, they will not harm 

 you. You are as safe here as you woiild be among your 

 own people. J ust as soon as this snow goes, one of our 

 men wiQ start for the Yellowstone with a four-horse team 

 after some provisions, and you can go with him. From 

 there it is only a short distance to the Crow camp. In 

 the meantime you can stay with us here and rest up. 

 Throw off your robe and make yom-self at home." 



"I like what you say," she replied, "but I am afraid of 

 all these men. Let me stay close by you." 



Wherever I went that afternoon she followed me, and 

 when it came time to turn in I made her a bed of buffalo 

 robe behind the counter. Some of the boys spread down 

 in the room and others in the cook house. 



"I don't like this," the woman said to me. "I am afraid 

 to sleep there; let me make my bed down beside yom's." 



"Don't fear," I replied, "no harm will come to you. 

 No one in this place cares for you or wishes to harm 

 you." 



"Well, then," she said, "if that is so I will step out a 

 minute and then go to bed." 



Now the door to this room was fastened from the inside, 

 when we wished it, by two wooden bars; outside we closed 

 it merely by a rawhide thong and pin. Some of us were 

 always at home, and when we all left this I'oom we 

 fastened the door with the thong to keep the dogs and the 

 cold air out. As the woman started to go out I went up 

 to the counter and took my six-shooter, intending to 

 follow her out, but quicker than a flash she darted through 

 the door, and closed and fastened it with the thong and 

 pin. Of course all the boys in the room made a rush, 

 and two of us getting our fingers between the door and 

 the jamb gave a strong jerk, snapped the fastening and 

 we all ran out. The woman had disappeared in the dark- 

 ness, but we could still hear her footsteps as she ran 

 toward the brush, Sudfllenly she gave a peculiar kind of 

 a whistle and from all around in the brush she was 

 answered by the hooting of owls. We aU rushed back 

 into the fort, put out the lights and made ready for an 

 attack. 



After an hour or so the boys began to talk, "I knowed," 

 said one, "that she was a spy." 



"Didn't I say to hang her," exclaimed another. "You 

 fellers that thought she was all right are sure soft." 



We all sat up imtil long after daylight, and not until 8 

 or 9 o'clock did any one turn in. But we were not 

 attacked, nor did we see the woman again. 



Several weeks afterward, when Hamilton went to the 

 Yellowstone after supplies, he learned that this woman 

 had stopped at the "Circle N" ranch and that they had 

 lost 140 horses. Wm, Jackson. 



PiKGAN, Montana. 



FACTS ABOUT THE OPAH. 



In his interesting article entitled "The Opah," which, 

 was published in Forest and Stream of Oct. 7, my friend. 

 Dr. R. W. Shufeldt, has — probably inadvertently — made 

 some statements which, I am sure, he will be glad to have 

 corrected, 



"Years and years ago," he says, "a specimen was taken 

 near Sable Island, Nova Scotia, and ichthyologists pre- 

 dicted then it would probably some time be captured upon 

 the immediate coast of the United States. This has 

 recently been done by Captain Wm. T. Lee on the La 

 Have Bank in 280ft. of water (43" 49' N. lat., 63° W. 

 long.)." 



This statement is in error in the following particulars: 



First, the specimen of opah referred to by Dr. Sliufeldt 

 was not taken "upon the immediate coast of- the United 

 States," as an examination of the position will show, but 

 nearly south (or olf) of the center of Nova Scotia, Second, 

 it was not caught on La Have Bank, but on the southern 

 slope of the depressed ridge that extends eastward from 

 that bank to the Western, or Sable Island, Bank, and is 

 commonly Icnown to the (isliernien as "La Have Ridges." 

 Third, the dt^i^th of water where the fish was caught (on 

 a halibut trawl line) was about 280 fathoms — 1,680ft. — 

 instead of 280ft. 



I may, perhaj^s, be pardoned for writing of these mat 

 ters somewhat ex cathedra, when it is stated that I am 

 entirely familiar with the fishing ground referred to, 

 having been there many times, and also that the fish in 

 question was sent to me by Capt. Lee, since, at that time, 

 1 was preparing the exhibit of the U. S. Fish Commission 

 for the Columbian Exposition. 



The "aid to science" which has been given by the New 

 England fishermen is worthy of all praise, and it is 

 specially gratifying to me to see public attention called to 

 the contribution of one who, for years, was on the crew 

 list of the vessel I commanded in the Atlantic halibut 

 fishery, and who has since then been on the lookout for 

 rare things fi-om the depths of ocean. J. W. Collins. 



In Oct. 7, 1893, issue of Forest and Stream (p. 393) in 

 referring to the classification of the opah, I remarked that 

 it "has been grouped with the dolphins or the Coryphoi- 

 nidce, but by others, and more properly, it has been placed 

 among* the Stromateidie, as the family Lamprididte.^' 

 This should read, "i^laced among the stromateoid fishes," 

 instead of the Sfromateidce, as above. Otherwise the 

 statement is correct. Dr. R, W. Shufeldt, 



Nut Hiders. 



The recent article giving an account of the chipmimk 

 planting corn, reminded me of an afternoon spent with 

 the gray squirrels in the park in Quincy, 111. Tliese 

 squirrels are tame enough to take nuts from one's hand. 

 I fed them liberally, and noticed that after eating all they 

 wanted, they buried the nuts, and were as eager to get 

 them for that purpose as they were to eat them when 

 hungry. It was curious to sec how particular they were 

 about getting a place that suited them for the burying. 

 The ground was api)arently all alike, covered with a thick 

 short turf of green grass, but the squirrel frequently ex- 

 amined a dozen jjlaces before deciding to plant. The 

 planting was done by digging a hole about 2in. deep with 

 the forepaws. The nut was then pushed tightly down, 

 the dirt pushed into the hole with the nose and packed by 

 the fore paws; then the gi-ass was carefully pulled over 

 the spot, and in a number of cases a dead leaf was care- 

 lessly thrown over it. The concealment was so deftly 

 done that not a trace of the work was left. Doubtless the 

 nut was buried to conceal it till it was needed for food, 

 but it is probable that thousands of these buried nuts are 

 never dug up and grow to be trees. 



A friend once told me that he noticed a flock of crows 

 making constant trips between some pecan trees and a 

 plowed field, and going to the field he found that the 

 crows were burying pecan nuts. In this case it would 

 seem to be an instinct for planting, as it is not likely that 

 a crow could use a pecan nut for food, the shell being too 

 hard to crack and the nut too large to be eaten whole. 

 The crow seems to have a sort of mania for hiding things 

 any way. Our pet crows would carry away and hide 

 combs, thimbles, bits of glass, and other smaU things that 

 they could not eat. O, H. Hampton. 



A Grouse Escapade. 



Auburn, Susquehana County, Pa., Oct. 15. — About 6:30 

 yesterday morning one of the ladies of the house heard a 

 commotion among the chickens. Stepping out on the 

 back porch to ascertain the cause, she was surprised to 

 find a grouse beliind a screen door that swings back across 

 a corner and had been fastened back, but not so close but it 

 allowed the bird to fly into the trap. When discovered, 

 the grouse was trying, with raised rulT and expanded tail, 

 to get out through the wire netting. The kvJiy releasinl 

 the door and picked up the bird, but her giasp was Jiut 

 secure enough to hold so slipery a customer, and it fluttered 

 from her hands and went whirring away. All who have 

 pursued this noble bird well know its abihty in getting off 

 and doing it slick, too. 



To-day I flushed one from a grapevine not far from 

 the house. It flew across fields some sixty rods to cover, 



Bon Ajhi. 



Yellow Bail. 



On Saturday, Sept. 30, George Richards, of Hacken- 

 eack. New Jersey, shot a yellow rail on the meadows near 

 that place. This — although we have not examined the 

 specimen — was probably P. noveboracensis, a species 

 which is usually regarded as rare, but Avhich is probably 

 more abundant than is commonly thought, its shy secre- 

 tive habits making it very hard to find. 



