446 



FOt^EST ANt) STREAM. 



[fcjcMr, 25, 1893. 



DANVIS FOLKS.-XV. 



The First Fox. 



Sam moving about cautiously in his stockings was at- 

 tempting the impossible feat of building a fire in the 

 stove without maliing a noise, for it was early and he 

 hoped that he might not disturb any of the family. 



The wood tumbled about in the box as if endowed with 

 perverse life. The griddles would slip and clatter and the 

 doors bang as if they were made for no other purpose, 

 Uncle Lisha being a light sleeper was roused and 

 came forth to learn the cause of the unseasonable disturb- 

 ance, with his waistcoat in one hand and buttoning his 

 suspenders fumblingly with the other. 



"What on airth is the motter, Samwil? Baby haint 

 got the croup er nuthin', has he?" he whispered anx- 

 iously. 



"No," was answered in a hoUow whisper, "goin' hunt- 

 in'. Thought I'd hev me a baked tater and cup o' tea tu 

 start on 'f I c'd get 'em 'thout wakin' the hull neighbor- 

 hood, but this consarned stove's ben dancin' a jig sence I 

 fust touched it an' the wood, turnin' summersets. But 

 I've got the taters in. Sorry I waked ye, Uncle Lisher, 

 Drive, you ol' fool, quit yer whinin' an' caperin'. We 

 haint goin' yit." 



"I'd slep' a plenty," and Uncle Lisha drew a chair to 

 the stove and toasted his feet comfortably on the hearth. 

 "Where be you goin', Samwil?" 



"Well," said Sam, carefully filling a powder horn while 

 Drive watched the operation with intense interest, whin- 

 ing and treading the floor with his front feet, "I'm a- 

 goiri' tu take Peltier a fox huntin'. I b'lieve 'f I c'n git 

 him int'rested in 't an' hev liim kill a fox er tew it '11 git 

 him over mopin' an' honin' himself to death arter that 

 misible gal. The' haint nothin' like huntin' tu take a fel- 

 ler's mind offem trouble." 



"Wal," said the old man in a draughty whisper that set 

 the candle flaring, "I d' know but what it'll help some, 

 but I shall reckon more on fishin'. But I teU ye, I b'lieve 

 he's kinder taken a shine tu that aire Varney gal, 'at was 

 here tu the apple cut, an' that's a-goin' tu cure him." 



"'T wont 'mount tu shucks. Peltier haint that kind o' 

 chap tu shift his likes sudden. I don't b'lieve he'll ever 

 keer a row o' pins for any other gal. The best 'at can be 

 done for him is tu git him from dwellin' on his trouble, 

 an' I don't know o' nothin' better 'n huntia'. The quiet 

 of the woods an' the noises which is nigh about the same 

 thing, is mighty soothin', an' the smeU o' the dead leaves 

 an' the spreuce an' balsam is stren'thenin' tu the narves 

 an' when you git raly woke up with the hootiu' o' the 

 haound a-drawin' nigher an' you hear the fox a-rustlin' 

 the dry leaves an' snappin' the dry twigs, it seta your 

 heart afire an' burns aout all the foolishness an' trouble." 



"Mebby," said the other, "but fishin' is turrible soothin'. 

 I'd ruther chance it on fishin' an' that Varney gal. She's 

 a strornary nice gal." 



Sam opened the oven door and tested his cookery with 

 a pinch. "My taters is done. Set by an' ha' some, Uncle 

 Lisher? " 



But the old man chose to wait for a more elaborate 

 meal, and Sam hastily swallowing his tea, potatoes and 

 cold meat and assuming his equipments was ready to de- 

 part just as Pelatiah appeared, and the two held forth in 

 the growing whiteness of the winter dawn with the old 

 hound sobering down to the business of his life, ranging 

 steadily before them. 



There had been a hoar frost in the night and every 

 fence and tree was turned to misty silver and pearl, and 

 the mountain arose before them against the paling azure 

 like a great cloud of pearl, tmstable, ethereal, as if the 

 lightest breeze might waft it away. There was a haziness 

 in the atmosphere giving it an apparent softness that 

 seemed to belong to another season, and make one almost 

 expect to hear the songs of birds coming from the silver 

 f oUage and sea |the stir of insect Uf e among the feathery 

 herbage of the frost, grown in a night upon the snow. 



But the few sounds that scarcely broke the silence 

 were all of winter. The smothered chuckle of the ice- 

 bound brook, the resonant crack of a frozen tree, the 

 muffled crow of a housed cock, and the discordant cries 

 and flicker of the gay plumage of a jay early faring 

 abroad were the only signs of life astir save the himters 

 and their hounds. 



Old Drive soon found the warm trail of a fox that had 

 been mousing among the snow-covered af tei'math, and he 

 presently set the mountain side and hills to bandying 

 melodious echoes that awoke all the valley from its slum- 

 bers. 



A dozen house dogs burst into vociferous baying at the 

 distracting mixltitude of airy voices and as many cocks 

 sent forth their ringing challenges, and one by one tlie 

 farmhouse chimneys began to lift their slanted pfllars of 

 smoke against the peajl-gray hills and blue of the sky. 



There began to be signs of choring, the creaking and 

 slamming of barn doors, the lowing of cattle, and men 

 calling them to partake of their brown loaves, the stacks. 

 Then were heard the mellow notes of horns and conches, 

 presently followed by a cessation of the sounds of labor. 

 These, after a time, began again, with the clear, woody 

 ring of ax strokes, the muffled thud of flails, the shouts ,of 

 ox-teamstei-s and the drawling creak of their sleds. 



The hunters gave heed to none of them. Only to the 

 voice of the hound were their ears attentive as it tended 

 toward the hills that buttressed the mountain side, letting 

 here an echo fall asleep, there awakening another to wild 

 mimicry, 



"Ef he haint got him up, he will in less'n five minutes," 

 said Sam after a moment of breathless listening to the 

 hound's eager baying. "You puU foot for the south end 

 o' Pa'tridge Hfll. The's a big hemlock in the aidge of a 

 leetle clearin'. Stan' there. If he gits past ye goin' he'll 

 come back that way. Stick to 't as long as the dawg stays 

 on the hiU, I'll go to the north end." 



He struck ofl; at a swinging gait and Pelatiah in a di- 

 vergent course made his way to the point indicated. He 

 reached it much out of breath with climbing and excite- 

 ment, his heart beating such a tumultuous accompaniment 

 to the music of the hound, drawing nearer and nearer, 

 that he could scarcely hear it. 



He cocked his gun and strove to settle his ti-embling 

 nerves while he strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the 

 fox, for he could hear the hound crashing through the 



brush and whining and panting as he puzzled over a 

 double of the trafl. Then his heart stood still at a sudden 

 flash of ruddy fur among the brush, his gun was at his 

 shoulder, his finger feeling the trigger, and with a qualm 

 of disgust he saw a red squirrel scampering along a log. 



The music of the hound swept past, and Pelatiah's heart 

 sank with the sense of lost opportunity. But he remem- 

 bered Sam's assurance that the fox would come back, 

 and took hope again. He backed into a comfortable 

 I)osition against the hemlock and listened half dreamily to 

 the pulsing diminuendo of the hound's bugle notes and to 

 the minor voices of the woods. A party of inquisitive 

 chickadees sounded their cheery call close about him, a 

 nuthatch piped nasally as he crept in a downward spiral 

 along the branching ti'unk above. A woodpecker indus- 

 triously tapped a dead tree, the squirrel dropped a slow 

 shower of cone chips, and a company of jays attuned 

 their voices to unwonted softness as they discom-sed to- 

 gether. 



Yet he was continually aware of the hound's mellow 

 notes overbearing all these sounds, though faint and far 

 away, tiU suddenly there broke above them aU the short, 

 thin report of a rifle, and almost with the fading out of 

 the brief echo the baying of the hound ceased. 

 ^"Wal," said Pelatiah, letting his hopes down to 

 the earth with a sigh. "The fox 's dead, that' ssar- 

 tain, but I shouldn't ha' thought Sam would ha' cut in 

 ahead on me an' shot him. That wan't the 01' Ore Bed! 

 'Twan't laoud enough! It's some skunk that's sneaked in 

 an' stole aour fox, an' by gol, he'll haftu hump hisself if I 

 don't ketch him er run him in." 



He pushed rapidly forward in the direction that he 

 heard the shot. His course was lengthwise of the ledge, 

 with so few obstacles that a haK hour's walk brought him 

 to tlie end of the fox's track, marked with a great blood- 

 stained wallow in the snow. Leading straightaway from 

 it toward the Uttle valley behind the hill went the tracks 

 of a big pair of boots with a disproportionate stride. 



"A short-laiged critter," Pelatiah remarked, as he set- 

 tled himself upon the trail, "an' I guess my shanks' bosses 

 '11 fetch him." 



The trail presently led him to a narrow clearing and a 

 httle gray house that stood in forlorn nakedness of shade 

 trees and outhouses, close to an untraveled highway. The 

 big boot tracks held straight across the poor little garden 

 with its feeble array of bean poles bearing their withered 

 garlands of rustling vines, past the starved woodpile and 

 its dull ax, to the neatly swept doorstep. 



"Consarn his picter," and Pelatiah waxed hot with 

 wrath as the trail grew warmer, "he's sneaked intu Wid- 

 der Wigginses. But he needn't cal'late petticuts '11 save 

 him. I'll skin 'im if the's a dozen women stannin' raound, 

 The blasted thief." 



He stepped softly upon the plank doorstep, and was 

 about to enter, when he heard the excited voice of a boy 

 and stopped to listen. He also heard the sibilant rush of 

 air from the nipple of a gun and the soft pop of a with- 

 drawn patch mingling with disconnected words and knew 

 that the speaker was cleaning a rifle. 



"Oh, ma," cried the voice with a grunt that indicated 

 the pushing down of a patch, "I teU ye, it was fun. I 

 popped him right plum through the head, an' sir, I 

 dropped him right in his tracks. An' haint he a neat one. 

 An' neow I'm goin' to skin him an' sti'etch him an' take 

 him daown to Olapham's an' sell him an' git you some tea 

 an' sugar." 



"It '11 be turx'ible good tu hev some agin, 'specially 

 when a body is feeling so peaked," said a feeble voice. 

 "An' haow did you happen tukfll a fox, BiUy? That's 

 men's game." 



"Oh, I was up on the hill tryin' tu git a pa'tridge, an' I 

 heai'd a haoun' dawg a-comin' an' I jes' stood still as a 

 post, an' fust I knew it, I seen the fox come bobbin' along 

 an' up an' let him hev, an' daown he flopped, an' sir, I 

 couldn't b'lieve 'twas treue, an' when I r'ally got a holt 

 on 't I got dizzy an' all of a tremble, an' the nex' thing I 

 thought on was the tea an' sugar f er you. An' then the 

 haoun' dawg come up an' chawed him a spell, an' then I 

 slung htm on my back an' p'inted fer hum." 



All the fire of Pelatiah's wrath was quenched and he 

 was about to retire as silently as he had come, when he 

 was arrested by the voice of the Avoman pitched to a tone 

 of earnest reproof. 



"0, BiUy, you hedn't ever ortu done that. You'd orter 

 waited an' gin the hunters the fox. It's jest stealin'. 

 Father aUus said so. O, Billy, they '11 be arter you, an' 

 nob'dy knows whot they won't du tu ye. Whose haoun' 

 dawg was it, Billy?" 



"It was Sam Lovel's ol' Drive. It's the fust fox 'at ever 

 I shot," BiUy whimpered, "an' haow be I ever goin' tu git 

 yer tea an' sugar?" 



"It don't make no dift'unce, youmus' take that aire fox 

 right stret tu Samwil Lovel, You've got tu take it tu 

 them it belongs tu. Mebby the Lord '11 pervide; but I 

 d' know, it's long a-waitin'. Hang up the gun an' start 

 right stret off. Take the fox an' start right off like an 

 hones' man." 



Pelatiah broke in unceremoniously upon poor Billy's 

 mournful preparations for departure, liis unannounced 

 appearance startling alike the boj^ and his sick mother, 

 who stared at him half frightened, half indignant, from 

 her uncomfortable support of scant pillows. 



"The' don't nob'dy want no fox, M'is Wiggins," he burst 

 out impetuously. "Samwil an' me don't want him, ner 

 won't hev him, nuther. Bub c'n take him right daown tu 

 Olapham's a' git all he can fer him. Dollar an' a half, I 

 shouldn't wonder. We won't hev it, I tell ye. We wouldn't 

 tech tu take the fust fox 'at a boy ever shot. We know 

 how he feels, me an' Samwil." 



Certainly not by experience did Pelatiah know; but by 

 sympathy, perhaps he did, to-day. 



"Be ye much sick, M'is Wiggins? Bub hed better git 

 Darktor Stone tu come up. I'll hev mother come over. 

 Good day." 



He hurried to go, in as great confusion as that in which 

 he left the widow and her son, who found not words but 

 only grateful looks to thank him. 



He stopped at the meager woodpile and plied the dull 

 ax with sturdy strokes tfll three or four armfvfls of wood 

 were ready for the stove, and then hvtrried away up the 

 long eastern slope of the hUl. He laughed at himself as 

 he recalled his recent small adventure, "Poor leetle 

 shaver, a-floppin' raoun' in his dead father's boots an' me 

 a-bilin' myself up tu hck somebody. Gol!" 



Til en through the stiUness of the woods the mellow 

 cadence of the old hound's bugle notes stole upon his 

 eai's, and all his thoughts were turned to the day's pur- 



pose. Listening to get the direction, he became assured 

 that the earnest, insistent baying was almost confined to 

 a fixed point. 



"By golly, he's started another, an' holed him, I guess. 

 But I'H mog over and git the dawg." 



As he neared the place, the steep western side of the 

 hill, he found that the hoimd was moving in small circles 

 and felt renewed hope, and his heart gave a great choking 

 bound as he caught a glimpse of the fox dodging among 

 the rocks and brush of the steep hillside. So steep and 

 slippery was the footing that Pelatiah was obliged to slip 

 his arm around a sapling to hold his position, and so 

 standing he cocked his gun and waited, his heart rising 

 and sinking as Drive's notes approached and receded. 



Suddenly, like a ruddy blossom that had burst from the 

 wintry hillside, the fox appeared on the top of the rock 

 and turned to look back at the dog. The sight was drawn 

 against the arched side, the trigger was pulled, there was 

 a kick of reassuring force, a responsive roar and a writh- 

 ing, slowly-lifting Jcloud of smoke that for one moment 

 of sickening doubt Pelatiah tried to peer through, and 

 then he was filled with unspeakable joy at sight of the 

 fox lying beside the rock, gasping spasmodically, while 

 his magnificent brush was moved with tremulous undu- 

 lations. And then he knew how Bflly Wiggins had felt. 

 Not tin he had laid hold of his prize did he find voice to 

 halloo to Sam, but then he did it with such repeated 

 vociferations that there was danger of alarming all the 

 valley. 



Sam soon appeared on the scene, imperturbable but con- 

 gratulatory. 



"You done almighty well, Peltier, but where's your 

 t'other fox? I hearn a shot an' the dawg come tu me." 



"Wal," said Pelatiah, hesitating a little, "Widder Wig- 

 ginses boy shot him, an' I hedn't the heart tu take it away 

 from him. An' she's sick an' they're poorer 'n snaikes. 

 No tea ner no nothin'," 



"An' ye done almighty weU, Peltier," Sam said, after 

 attentive consideration of the case. "Huldy an' me 'U go 

 over there to-morrer an' see tu 'em. An' neow le's skin 

 that au-e fox. By the gret horn spoon, he's a buster." 



Rowland E. Robinson. 



NOTES OF A TRIP TO MANITOBA. 



In Two Parts— Part Two. 



CConcluded from page 



One day I met with a curious example of the readiness 

 with which some people adopt and repeat tiie opinions of 

 others rather than see and judge for themselves. I was 

 out driving with a young friend, fresh from England, 

 and he gave utterance to that stale, groundless, but too 

 common remark, that bird life was rare in this covmtry 

 and bird music unknown. At the moment he was speak- 

 ing, half a dozen meadowlarks were pouring out their 

 finest strains, twenty shore larks were within hearing, 

 and the chinks of the music were filled up with the notes 

 of innumerable vesper sparrows, longsijurs, savanna 

 sparrows, and shattuck bimtings, while crows, kingbirds 

 and wild ducks were within sight and hearing. 



In my journal, next, I find these two notes. The first 

 relates to an extended published account of my last hunt, 

 in which D. was a successful participant. 



"G. W. tells me that on the Sunday when D, received 

 the account of the hunt in which he figured so prominently, 

 he spent the whole day in reading it over till he had it 

 nearly by heart, and this was all his conscience would 

 permit him to do on that day, though he eyed the old 

 rifle tenderly from time to time; but he went to bed very 

 early and arose soon after 13 to thoroughly clean out h& 

 old 'blunderbuss,' although the himting season was half 

 a year ahead." 



Another note runs: "Two of the farmers have been 

 out gunning after each other for some time, and I heard 

 Mrs, D, describing them as two persons who had a great 

 disregard for each other." 



One day while driving in the hills with a friend we 

 came face to face with a bear. Of course, we had no gun. 

 This is the third time in my fife that this has happened, 

 and in every case I was gunless, also in every case bruin 

 went ofl: at racehorse speed. 



On another occasion a number of the old settlers were 

 swapping wild pigeon yarns. One had fired into a great 

 flock and brought down eleven pigeons with a shotgun; 

 another had fired into a vast cloud of the birds with a 

 rifle and brought down thirteen; then another speaker 

 had fired both barrels into a solar ecHpse of biUions of 

 pigeons and brought down nothing but a wretched little 

 sparrowhawk. 



Late in August a farmer came to tell me that while 

 driving his binder he put up a strange beast that seemed 

 slow and stupid. He had never seen its hke before, it 

 appeared to be a cross between a deer and a lynx, as it 

 had long ears with black tips on them, but yet had the 

 head, tail and color of a deer. It was only 20yds. away 

 when he started it, and it moved so slowly that he set his 

 dog after it. But although the latter, a collie, was close 

 at hand the strange slow^ animal suddenly developed into 

 a gray streak and was out of that field (one of 100 acres) 

 before the dog could get started. This last piece of in- 

 formation was enough. "My friend," said I, "you have 

 struck a narrow-gauge mule," and sure enough when I 

 went to the same place I put up the same mule, brought 

 him down on the wing and went home in triumph with 

 the first jack rabbit (Lejyus campestris) I ever killed, and 

 the only one I ever heard of being killed north of the 

 Afisiniboine! 



I subsequently learned that since my last residence in 

 Manitoba the species had greatly increased and is now 

 abundant in southern and western Manitoba, with the 

 natural consequence of occasional occurrence in the ad- 

 joining regions. 



Late in August I went with a medical friend for an ex- 

 tended buckboard trip into the sandhills. We were far 

 beyond the f m-thest settlement and not even looking for a 

 trail, when suddenly we came upon a fresh track, and on 

 following it were led to an Ojibway camp of two tepees. 

 The Indians had a freshly-kflled moose, and I tried to buy 

 a quarter of it, but they would not sell any. I then tried 

 to buy the head, but no, they still said "no sell" and 



i even refused to sell enough for a meal. "Well," said I, 

 "we want some meat for our dinner." To this the spokes- 

 man replied only by handing us his knife and mtimating 

 by a gestme that I was to cut what I needed. That done 



