Dec. 9, 1893.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



498 



nucleus for a white settlement which I presume was the 

 second stopping place or rallying ground made by the 

 whites on this continent. The historian can put these 

 facts into longer and better shape, and Mary Hartwell 

 Catherwood can get incident for another early-Indian 

 romance, than which not even any of her earlier stories 

 shall be more interesting, more thrilling or more Ameri- 

 can. 



Survivors and Descendants. 

 I am not sure it was De Soto wlio went on down the 

 river after the building of the city, but it must have been 

 one of the De Soto family who staid behind. Allowmg 

 for the natural changes wrought by time, one might thus 

 account for oW Sal Soda, still prominent in that region, 

 as he who runs may read, if he tackles one of the country 

 biscuits. Vincennes is in the heart of a very permanent 

 and enduring sort of country. Eound about"^ her stretch 

 green and fertile farms, to be sure, but the forest prim- 

 eval still lines the wimpling Wabash, and under the 

 walnut and hickory trees there prevail the ways of other 

 days. Rude shanties, every other one deserted, and clear- 

 ings overrun with shrubs and vines, the tears of nature 

 at her scars, gash here and there the silent woods. Even to- 

 day, there are wild turkeys in numbers in these woods, 

 and squirrels many and many a one, and quail, and yel- 

 low jaunders, and rabbits, and feve'n-aig', and sal soda, 

 and coffee, which you will do well to take in capsules. It 

 is, in the woods country, all much as it was in De Soto's 

 time. Half of the countryside obstinately clings to its 

 age, or its youth. The other half bustles on, commerc- 

 ially and modern. The first half shoots still the old 

 muzzleloading rifle. The latter half uses the hammerless 

 shotgun, and kills the quail which the first half over- 

 looks and unconsciously protects. 



The Quail Supply. 



Mr. Balmer and I have hunted in different directions 

 about town, and he tells me the quail are far less abun- 

 dant than is usually the case here. Still, this hap. not 

 troubled us, for we have had all the shooting we 

 need ask, bagging in all our trips up to date I suppose, 

 nearly 150 birds, less than a dozen to the gun daily. Our 



AMERICAN GAME IN STAFF AT THE WORLB's FAIR. 



biggest day was over at Bicknell, where John Mayfield 

 took us out, leading us in part, I fear me, over the 

 trial grounds of the U. S. Field Trial Club, for which 

 courtesy I beg to thank the members. Certainly these 

 preserves are well stocked. In our few hours of shoot- 

 ing in that day we put up 15 bevies, all large and full. 

 Without following the singles very much, and killing 

 only two or three birds out of each bevy, which would 

 benefit rather than injure next year's crop, we bagged B7 

 birds, intending to stop at the three dozen mark. On 

 that day Mr. Mayfield took out with him Mr. J. Freeman's 

 field dog Nellie Hope, a very bright and snappv worker, 

 and a young dog, St. Blaze, belonging to Mr. Charlt-s 

 Baggott, of Cincinnati. Mr. Balmer had along his old 

 Duke, and between the three we got a lot of work on 

 birds, and had really a most delightful day in every way, 

 not the least charm of which was the dinner we ate at 

 the Widow Horton's farm, four miles out from Bicknt-U. 

 Three such hungry men I warrant the Widow Horton 

 never fed before. 



At Bicknell we saw a lot of dogs of aU sorts, among 

 these my old friend, Dame Bang, now the property of 

 Mr. Peabody, of Cincinnati. Dame Bang, I understand, 

 scorned to monkey with field trials, and didn't get a place. 

 She shows much more embonpoint now than when I saw 

 her last. Also in George Gray's string we saw Stride- 

 away, just sold for $1,000 cash, a good price for a yoimg- 

 ster. 



We saw and shot over dogs and dogs, but in the end 

 always came around to Duke, Mr. Balmer's old reliable 

 meat dog, of whom I am constrained to say something 

 more, because the longer I know him the more affection I 

 have for hiai. Duke is the sort of dog of which we have 

 too few — the old-time dog, with no antecedents, no records, 

 and no limits. Duke has hunted for us now eight days| 

 over all sorts of country and in all sorts of weather, and 

 he is as good as new to-day, in spite of his unknown 

 weight of years. As I said earlier, Duke has only one 

 eye. His mother only had one eye, and his sir-e may have 

 been One-Ej^ed Riley, for aught any one knows to the 

 contrary, although Riley is an Irish name, and Duke is a 

 Scotchman, being one of the despised Gordons. As if the 

 breed of a bird dog made any difference, after he has 

 proved that he has nose, and legs, and brains. All these 

 Duke has. This week I saw him worry a skunk, and 

 thereafter go right on pointing birds, just as if nothing 



had happened— a thing whose possibility I have heard 

 irnorant folk deny. As to Duke's Ugs — well, a big mas- 

 tiff mauled him up yesterday, and ate one of his legs 

 nearly off, but on the three remaining he manages the 

 deliberate trot which serves him as a field gait. As to 

 brains— well now, you would only need to shoot over him 

 one day to see that he has brains. He knows bird hunting 



A5IBBICAN' GAME Es STAFF AT THE WORLD'S FAIR. 



[ that once in a while, and I love him every time. Thes 

 are the great characters, man or dog. By what formula, 

 and through what type, shall we produce these characters, 



. man or dog? What kennel Guelph or Ghibelline, my 

 friend Waters, friend Johnson, light men all of ye, and 

 not profound enough to love a meat dog without "type," 

 or "quality," or what not — what one can theorize this 

 out, and say how or why such a man or such a dog is 

 born? Nay, I can say why myself. It is to make us love 

 humanity and caninity the more. 



Type me no types, when it comes to choosing friends. 

 Dukes in Indiana. Dick (dead now) out in Kansas, Rex 

 (long since dead) of Iowa, Ben of Illinois— I have known 

 perhap=! a dozen of these dogs that I call great, and never 

 a one had a reputation. Such dogs are like gold — where 

 you happen to find it, sans science and beyond the 

 province of theory. The best of kennel science can do no 

 more for sportsmanship than to give us more of just such 

 dogs. Perhaps, when professsonahsm, and rancorous- 

 ness, and jealousy and all the uncleanliness of poor com- 

 mercialism shall have had their day in the world of dog — 

 a day now speeding to its natural waning, for we must 

 have better ways for so great and growing an industry; 

 we shall see or at least hear, of more dogs like these name- 

 less ones, which you buy for $25, and wouldn't sell for 

 their weight in precious stones. Then, my friend John- 

 son, my friend Waters, and all other men great in kennel 

 wisdom, we can each declare and believe that he has the 

 best dog on earth, but we wont necessarily despise a dog 

 because he has cockle burrs in his tail or quail feathers 

 mixed up with his back teeth as Duke has. 



A Side Hunt. 

 I notice the words of wisdom the editor of Forest and 

 Stream has for the question of "side hunts." Shall it be 

 confessed, I have just engaged in a side hunt myself. 

 The Chief boasted of his prowess on quail, and it seemed 

 well to sit on him some, therefore we agreed to shoot 

 score for score on quail for two days, the low bag at the 

 end of t^e second day to pay for a supper for the two, or 

 for such friends as 'might be about at the time. I had 

 along two guns, a cylinder Lefever, and a Smith, nearly 

 cylinder right and choked left. The Chief thought he 



as well as a man, and he will swing around ahead of a 

 running bevy, and point them surely in his low-headed 

 style, and then retrieve, and point another bird while he 

 still holds the dead bird in his mouth — another thing de- 

 clared mythical sometimes. He will break shot, in his 

 old-fashioned way, because he is used to seeing meat, and 

 loves the touch of feathers in his mouth, but his sort of 

 breaking shot is not hard to condone, for he is always 

 after the next bird also. Moreover, Duke is a large- 

 hearted, magnanimous fellow. When the puppies steal 

 his points, and monkey around and bother him, he does 

 not resent it, but holds his point, and you can wager there 

 is something there, too. And w^hen the erratic and ignor- 

 ant youngsters straighten out on a point, he will back any 

 one of them as far as he can see him, though he must 

 often know it is only courtesy on his part. I recall a 



gretty picture out of yesterday's day, which Mr. Adam 

 aimer, of Decatur, 111., and I put in" together. We had 

 out only old Duke and Gwendoline, another of Mr. Bal- 

 mer's lot, and one with a nose keen as a brier. It was a 

 cold, windy day, and the birds were wild as deer. We 

 had a bevy spread on dry leaves, a sittiation which a dog 

 must be a good one to master. Time after time the little 

 one got aliead of Duke and snapped up the single points, 

 and he in his slow, deliberate way, backed her every time. 

 At length he started on a puiczling trail of his own, and 

 had just located his bird when Winnie sprang in ahead of 

 him, and stole the point, crouching all twisted to one side. 

 I know Duke was angry then, but he never flinched, 

 though he did insist on retrieving that bird himself. The 

 two made a pretty field scene as they crouched, motion- 

 less and eager, and I can see it keenly and sharply out- 

 lined even now, as I think it will long remain in the 

 mind. 



Duke has a bare spot on his nose. It is a mere trifle. 

 One day he followed his master upstairs in a grocery 

 store. Becoming lost or frightened he jumped out of the 

 second story window, smashed tlirough the awning and 



AMERICAN GAME IN STAFF AT THE WORLD'S FAIR. 



landed on his nose on the stone sidewalk. It is hard to 

 down a good dog. Duke has been accidentally shot 

 twice, this by his first master, a market-hunter. ' Once 

 he was shot square in the side with No. 8, and once in the 

 head with No. 6. This was where the poor fellow lost his 

 eye. His remaining eye is big and soft and brown, a 

 luminous, kindly eye, with the melancholy in it, but with 

 no harshness in its glance. Slow, deliberate, awkward, 

 with no style about him at all, Duke is plodding on 

 toward the end of his life, doing his duty every day, un- 

 enyious, unboastful, charitable, kind, I meet a man like 



AMERICAN GAME IN STAFF AT THE WORLD'S FAIR. 



would rather shoot one of these than to use his own 

 gun, a heavier Parker. We agreed to shoot these two 

 guns, changing at the end of the first day, and the Chief 

 allowed he would rather shoot the scatter gun first. Un- 

 fortunately for him he didn't know which was the scatter 

 gun, and so I thought it about right to give him the close 

 gun first, telling him it was the scatter gun. "All you 

 have to do is to point over in the direction of the bird," I 

 told him, "and you'll get it sure if you shoot quick 

 enough." Well, he shoots his left barrel first by habit, 

 and so he was trying to foUow^ instructions with a gun 

 whose first oarrel wouldn't spread six inches in the firing 

 distance. Somehow he didn't get very many, and I told 

 him to shoot quicker, and he did; but stdl he didn't get 

 them. The next day he said he guessed he'd rather have 

 the chokebore after all. So I gave him the cylinder and 

 told him to take his time. "All you have to do with this 

 gun," I said, "is to wait till your bird gets steady on the 

 wing, take plenty of time and don't shoot too quick." 

 Tne Chief followed copy, but he had worse luck than be- 

 fore. He was awfully deliberate, and sometimes w^hen 

 we saw him waiting on a bird with that old scatter gun 

 (Mr. Balmer was in the secret with me) we could hardly 

 keep respectably quiet. The result of the Forest and 

 Streak staff side hunt need not be told. All the Chief 

 said when he was enlightened was, "Well, I hadn't any 

 too blame much confidence in you anyhow, but I didn't 

 think you'd do a low-down thing like that." 



The 'Simmon Fruit. 

 Down in Indiana grows a wild sweet fruit, derided, 

 mocked at, unappreciated— the j)ersimmon. In late 

 November, after the frosts have taken out the pucker and 

 brought forth the blended sweets of this odd woods pro- 

 duct, you shall go far before you find a morsel to assail 

 your palate with a keen savor. To walk the brown woods 

 tUl lunch time and then to sit you down to rest and eat 

 your htmter fare, beneath a 'simmon tree, with the ripe, 

 deficate fruit about you for dessert— you first having duly 

 counted and spread out before you for admiration the 

 brown birds from your game pockets — now. now, now, this 

 is not a bad world at all so long as it has this chance 

 within it. 



"Forest and Stream" was First. 

 Nov. Forest and Stream, printed in New York, 

 was the first paper on the ground at Bicknell with the re- 

 port of the U. S. field trials. This I know because I was 



