Deo. 16, 1893.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



B17 



that ran along the rich bottomland of the James River, 

 Stonewall came to a point, and the puppy wheeling: sud- 

 denly behind him, stopped like a statue, his bead just 

 turned over his shoulder, and front paw raised, backing 

 the old one up in as pretty a fashion as one would ever 

 t^ish to see. 



I^aihet ^as to the tight of me some little distance 

 behind, and both dogs held the point patiently until he 

 came up and gave the word. Then as they advanced 

 into the stubble up jumped a big covey of quail with that 

 loud rattle and whir, and Pincher tumbled over backward 

 with such a comical expression of surprise on his face 

 that I missed clean with both barrels through laughing 

 at him. Father scored two birds, however, it would take 

 a great deal to "phase" him, and we marked the birds as 

 they scattered to tne lower field. Isiah held Stonewall 

 and allowed the puppy to retrieve, which he did very 

 prettdy; in fact, from his earliest days up to the present 

 time I never knew Pincher t<i chew a bird. 



On our way to the lower field Pincher came to a point 

 on a clump of cornstalks, and as I walked up flushed a 

 single bird, which I dropped with my second barrel. 



The covey had scattered in close to the little patch of 

 woodland that bordered the cornfield, and although we 

 hunted all over the ground we only found one bird, 

 which father bagged, but as we were passing through the 

 woods on our way to the field beyond both dogs came to 

 a stand about ten feet apart and flushed two birds; we 

 both scored and then for the n^xt five minutes we were 

 kept busy. It seems that the birds had taken refuse 

 undf'r the leaves in the wood and we secured eight in 

 less than five minutes. 



Pincher acted like an old-timer all through it and Isiah 

 was loud in his praises, when suddenly a big brown 

 swamp rabbit jumped up under the puppy's nose and 

 with an excited yelp he si^art'd after it. 



Isiah almost cried with moriification. "Come yeah yo' 

 daimfool dorg, come hack yeah; wha' fo' yo" dun cha.se 

 dat old no 'count rabbit? Come yeah, now, ain' you 

 'sharnt^d; doan' you lick my haind. you all dun erwine to 

 ketch dis yeali switch, yeah me? Lor', M irse General, I 

 dUn think I l^roke dat dorg from chasin' rabbits, 'det-d I 

 did, sub, but he's jus' like a common yall(-r houn', ain' got 

 no mo' sense dan a woodchuck. Come yeah, you low 

 down trash! Ain' you 'shamed?" 



Weil, Pmcher was in disgrace, until, in the next field, 

 he held a point at the fence corner for nearly two min- 

 utes, until we could climb over and get to him. 



But since that dav he has pointed many a covey, his 

 hearing has been de^-troyed and age has crept slowly upon 

 him, and now who better deserves his position upon the 

 hearth? 



But if I take the old gun down to rub up its brown bar- 

 rels, the fire of other days will brighten his eye, and he 

 runs to the door, anxious to revisit the scenes of his youth- 

 ful exploits. 



His old trainer dozps by the kitchen fireplace, his 

 shining bald head circled by a scant growth of white 

 wool, and sometimes in the eveniut: I go in to smoke a 

 pipe with him, and as he fills and refills his capacious 

 "cohn cob"' with my best tobacco we live over again those 

 happy days when "Dat daimfool pup dun chase de swamp 

 rabbit." The General. 



DANVIS FOLKS.— XVII. 



A Raising Bee. 



Because of the greater inter-dependence of the people, 

 "bees" had been much more common in the days of 

 Uncle Lisha's youth than in these of his old age, but he 

 had not lost his fondness for attending them. So one 

 May morning, when Sam and his father came into the 

 shop and told him of a raisin' at Jonathan Young's, he 

 needed no urging to drop his tools and toss aside a boot 

 from which he had but half ripped the worn sole, slough 

 his apron, don his coat and hat, and declare his readiness 

 to accompany them, 



"I can't du no gret, onny help du the settin' raound, an' 

 mebby hoi' the foot of a pos' er du the spry runnin' raoun'," 

 he said as he plied his short legs to keep up with his long- 

 limbed comrades, carrying his hat in his hand to fan his 

 face at every swing of his arm. 



There v^ere tufts of blue violets in the mixed dun and 

 green of the meadows, and, like stars in the evening sky, 

 the first dandelions shone far apart in the greening pas- 

 tures which the newly turned-out sheep were overrun- 

 ning, too eager for the fresh grass to heed the passing 

 strangers. 



A new-come bobolink sang before and above them, now 

 atilt on a fence stake, now aflight on vibrant wings. 

 Robins were flying to and fro busj' nest-building, and a 

 plover's wailing call drifted down on the breeze from a 

 distant field. The haze on the woods was thickening with 

 gray-green mist of opening buds, with here and there the 

 yellow tower of a leafing poplar shining out of it. 



Whatever subtle impression the changing season may 

 have made on them, they made no sign but to say, "It's 

 an airly spring and a fine growin' time," and after a while 

 came to where their neighbors were gathering about the 

 recumbent bents of Jonathan's prospective barn, and the 

 chips of hewing and chiseling that exhaled the fine fra- 

 grance of fresh cut wood. The carpenter, as redolent of 

 the same odor as if he were born of a ti'ee, was hustling 

 about with a square and scratch-awl, while the people 

 lounged about, watching his movements with curiosity or 

 gossiping of neighborhood or town affairs. Jonathan 

 Young, nervously expectant, went from group to group, 

 discoursing of the baru that was to be. 



"Goin' to hev bay on tlie west side o' the barn floor an' 

 a scatfil on the east, wi' a stable 'uunder it, high 'nough 

 'tween j'ints so 's 't a man o' my hayth won't knock his 

 head olf in 't," and Jonathan was oft. 4in. in his stock- 

 ings. 



"Haint ye 'fraid o' bein' dizzy-headed when we git 

 'way up on that scaffii?" John Dart inquired, anxi(.iusly. 



"Hes the path master warned ye aout tu work on the 

 rhud in our deestric"?" one inquired of a distant neighbor. 



"No. ner won't tech tu till arter plantin'." 



"Wal, aourn hes, the 'tarnal critter, an' thp rhuds haint 

 no more settled 'n my rhud tax is," the first speaker re- 

 marked, iind then directed his remarks against the fathers 

 of the town. "Et" the s'lec'men don't spunk up an' du 

 suthin' abaout the bridge tu the village, the taown '11 hev 

 a lawsuit on its ban's fust it knows. One o' the bupments 

 is all cove in, an' the stringers is so rotten you c'd spit 

 through 'em. 'Taint safe fer a dawg tu cross. Darn sech 

 s'lec'meii-^lackmen, that'9 what I call 'em."| 



Uncle Lisha found a seat with others, exempted by age 

 from an active part in the labors of the bee, on a pile of 

 rafters where they might sit to comment and criticise un- 

 disturbed till toward the end of the raising. 



Their attention was divided between the active move- 

 ments of the carpenter, a group of the atVdetes of the 

 company endeavoring to get up a wrestling match and a 

 partv of boys playing an old fashioned game of ball. 



"You'd better save yer stren'th fer liftin'." was Gran- 

 ther Hill's hoarsely whispered advice to the wrestlers. 

 "Ye'U need all ye got, fer the' haint none tew many men. 

 Them boys a-straddlin' an' a-yawpin' raound haint no 

 'caount. It's a heavy frame con°iderin' the way trees hes 

 dwindled sea' I was on airth. It's lucky they hev, fer ye 

 couldn't raise anol'-fashioned buildin' wi' the men they've 

 got nowerdays. Ye'd better keep yer wrastlin' till arter 

 raisin'." 



Solon Briggs slid himself on to the rafter close beside 

 Uncle Lisha, and began speaking in a voice that could 

 not be (jverheard. "That narrowtyve you was relatin' of 

 was turrible intercstin'. Uncle Lisher. Du you s'pose you 

 could designate the spot where the ol' gentleman climb, or 

 thought he climb the tree?" 



The old shoemaker looked a moment at Solon and then 

 sent a roving glance along the towerinsj; mountain wall, 

 its lower steeps rising like a mist of tender green to the 

 bristling firs that climbed in dark array up the rugged 

 steeps to the bald, gray peak. 



"Good airth and seas, Sol^n," he said at last, turning 

 his face again to his interlocutor. ' Er' ye knowed wit'iin 

 a mild, ye might as well hunt fer a needle in a hay mow. 

 It Ti ust ha' been east o' aour oF place. Ye know where 

 that is?" 



"An proberly," said S )lon, "he was p^rsecutin' his 

 sarch in the same direction er p'nt o' compisses?" 



"Wal, I s'pose so. more tiwards the top. Whv, you 

 haint a goin' huntin' arter the money be ye, Solon?'' 



"Good land o' massy, no," cried Solon nervously. 



BOONE AND CROCKETT CLUB'S CABIN. 



Amateur photo by .H A. Brooks 



"Cause if ye be, I've hearn him say 'at he harried it by 

 a big yaller birch, an' that's consid'ahle of a guide, b^in' 

 there hain't mor'n fifty yaller birches tu the acre up that 

 way." 



"Neow then, men," the carpenter shouted in an au- 

 thoritative voic«, "come right this way," and there was a 

 general movement toward the place indicated. 



"Take a holt o' this aire bent." 



The men swarmed upon the sills and sleepers and laid 

 hold of the section of frame. 



"Be ye ready? Then up with it. All togeth r. Hang 

 tu the foot o' them pos's you men wi' the crowbars. Up 

 she goes." 



The parallelogram of heavy timbers rose at first almost 

 with a jerk, then more slowly, as it was reared beyond 

 the reach of some. 



"Put in your pike-poles there," cried the carpenter, 

 and these being set and manned, it started upward again 

 more rapidly, then more slowly as it reached the perpen- 

 dicular. The carpenter was off one side squinting at it. 



"Up wid her more! Don't be af eared. Put in some 

 pike-poles t'other side. Up a leetle more. A lee-tle more. 

 There, whoa up. All right. She's up an' daown as a 

 clever cat's tail. Naow, stay lath it." 



The bent was temporarily fastened in place with boards 

 nailed diagonally upon it and the sills, and so in turn the 

 others were raised and the girts entered and pinned. 

 Then the long plates were uplifted by strong hands and 

 pike-poles and shoved alnng the beams, to which the 

 surest-footed of the company mounted and raised them to 

 their place on top of the posts and fastened them. 



All the while a running fire of jokes was kept up, not 

 a f w of which were directed against the carpenter, whose 

 orders nevertheless were implicitly obeyed. 



Now, the corps of exempts and invalids were dislodged 

 from their comfortable post on the pile of rafters. These 

 were sent aloft, joined in pairs and raised. Then Jona- 

 than Young, st mding apart, drawn to his fullest height 

 and with arms akimbo and puffing out his cheeks with a 

 long exhalation of satisfaction, looked with pride upon 

 the gaunt, yellow skeleton of his barn and prosp^^ctively 

 clothed it with boards and shingles and filled it to reple- 

 tion with hay and grain and heard the swallows twitter- 

 ing und.^r the eaves or saw them darting with unerring 

 flight in and out of the gable swallow holes, which re- 

 minded him to call to the carpenter: 



"Don't forgit to make some swaller-holes fer luck, 

 Simeon, an' cut 'em in the shape of a heart," and he 

 glanced back to the house door, where his wife s ood with 

 her daught rs, gazing at the gaunt structure tliat already 

 dominated the premises, quite overbearing the riumble 

 log house. They wished it was the frame of a new 

 house. 



Jtmathan's half-growTi son came along the path newly 

 worn from the house, but henceforth to be an established 

 way, bearing a great tin-pail of cider, bending away from 



his burden, with free arm outstretched, with head bent 

 low, staggering and bracing against the weight, which 

 he stopped often to shift from hand to hnnd. A tin cup 

 voyaging to and fro on the foamy surface touched the 

 shores «"ith hoppitable clinks, till it was swampeil and 

 went down to the shining bott'^m. The pail came fi'st to 

 John Dart, who eyed the sunken cup for a moment and 

 declaring, "There's mnre'n one way to skin a cat," lifted 

 the pail to his lips. Then some one rescued the cup with 

 a hooked stick and drafts were more easily obtainable if 

 less copious. The company, comfortably and con'-ene- 

 iently seated on the sills of the barn, were now served 

 with cakes, pie and cheese. 



"When I was on airth first," said Granther Hill, dip- 

 ping up a second cupful, "the' want no cider to speak on, 

 It was rum lu bees, New Enarhmd rum er Jamaiky 

 sperits fer high duck duins. Cider '11 dii. hut it haint so 

 sartin as rum an' it's bulkier I don't cal'l-^te a man c'ld 

 du much fitihtin' wi' two three quarts o' cid^r a. swashin' 

 raound inside on him. Rum was what we useter du it 

 on. When John Stark was a raisin' men fer Bennin'ton 

 he wus in more of a pucker fer rum 'an he wa'' fer 

 paowder an' lea-l. Bat he got both an' the Hessians tew, 

 er l^a^tways, we did," and he comforted himself with 

 amither draught, pronouncing it "good for the time o' 

 year."_ 



Eunice Young felt flattered by the returning empty 

 pans and plat' s. She was sure' the supply had been 

 bountiful, now she knew its quility was approved. 



The boys rmhed back to 'heir unfi ished game of two 

 old cats." The wrestlers, refresl^ed in strength and 

 spirits.^ tussled in "back holt," "side holt" and "arm's 

 length" in the center of an interested ring of sp ctators. 

 The oldest and most sedate kept their seats, smoking and 

 boasting of their youthful deeds. 



As the afternoon waned and the barn's new shadow 

 crawled on its first journey toward the house thoughts of 

 the eveninir chores fell upon the cnriviviality of the com- 

 pany, and they began to <Lep- rt. till there wi re none left 

 on the late busy scene only Jonathan, still viewing with 

 pride his new possession, ;<nd tlie carpenter pi' king up 

 liis scattered tools and planning work for the nio'row. 



As Solon and A.ntoine vJodded across the fields in i-om- 

 panv the first said: "Wal. Antw ine. I've got the p'ints o' 

 compasses from Unfile Lisher nigh 'nough so's we can 

 make 'em corroborate wi' the place where that aire 

 money's hid. Your usr'ter the woods 'an what I be an' I 

 want you tu du the engineerin' an' I'll work the divinin' 

 rod. I've got me a superguberous one 'at I cut from the 

 north si'ie of a witch hazel bush." 



"Bah gosh." cried Antoine. "Ah'll can injin near an' 

 injin far. Ah'll was be prefick injin in de hwood, me. 

 We'll 10 to-morrah mawnin', ant it?" 



"Wal, yes, I Muess we'd better, an' we'll get an' airly 

 start an' meet up back o' the ol' Peggs place. You fetch 

 a t-p ide an' I'll bring a crowbar an' a bit o' suthin tueat." 



"All raght, M'sieu Brigg." 



"Bone swear, Antwine," and each went his separate 

 way home. Rowland E. Robinson. 



SOUNDING THE ALARM. 



During the past fall while hunting with rifle for 

 squirrels in the heavy timber, I have at different times 

 noticed that both birds and ma nim.ds seem to have several 

 ways of warning others not only of their own kinds, but 

 also of diffi<rent species of the presence of a supposed 

 common enemy. In fact, the practice might be called 

 the warnmsr system of animated nature. 



As an illustration, suppose the hunter to he going 

 stealthily through the woorls, or quietly seated upon a 

 stump or fallen tree, and while there to be seen, as he is 

 almost sure to be, by some of the sharp-eyed little wood 

 folks. Now suppose the little thing has before been giv- 

 ing out some notes or sounds peculiar to its species; all at 

 once those sounds will be changed to others having a 

 different cadence from those at fir.^t given; or as soon as 

 the hunter is discovered the sounds may quicklv ceaae, or 

 even if the little thing was quiet be'ure, some sharp note 

 of dinger will often take the pla e of itsstdlneas; and 

 other mammels and birds in the i nmediare vicinity will 

 understand the warning, and t;.ke up the signals' until 

 nearly ev* ry animated thing for quite a distance around 

 will be apprised of the danger. Then for a while they 

 will act with the utmost discretion until confidence is re- 

 stored when the wood life will resume its normal ways 

 until some movement of the hunter again produces the 

 same phenomenon. How far beyond the commencing 

 point those danger signals are kept up or extended, one 

 may be unable to discover, but I should judge by what I 

 have observed that they extend in all directions beyond 

 gunshot distance. 



Should any one either with or without a gun while in 

 the woods where wild life is plenty, take note of this sys- 

 tem of cautionary cries, he wotdd find it very interesting 

 and instructive. 



Among the causes that lead to the detectiou by animals 

 of a person when still-hunting there is one that he sel- 

 dom or ever thinks about, which is the eff. ct the sight 

 of his shadow has upon them, especially when the sun is 

 low. No matter how stealthily one may be going along, 

 or how carefully he may be concealed behind a tree, or 

 even be seated, his long tell-tale shadow when slightly 

 moving may be a greater cause of the non-appearance of 

 game than he is aware of. 



Still another cause, which, of course, cannot be obviated 

 much, is the appenrance of the face and hands in con- 

 trast with tlie clothes of the gunner or with surrounding 

 objects. That often attracts the attention of animals, but 

 more especially is their attention attracted by the move- 

 ments of the hands while manipulating the gun. Ooe 

 cannot hel[< but notice, should he occasionally take a look 

 behind him when quiet in the woods, how near squirrels 

 and other animals will conifc up to him from that direc- 

 tion, while in front he will see none of tdem, thus show- 

 ing conclusively that the contrast m ide by the face and 

 hands with surrounding objects has more to do with, 

 making the hunt other than a successful one than many 

 gunners are aware of; consequently, we might suppose 

 tliat, so far as complexion is concerned, since his color 

 more nearly corresponiistfj surrounding woodland objects, 

 an Indian would be more successful as a still-hunter than 

 would one of us, his pale-fbced brothers. 



Sometimes while gunning t ie taking' advantage of the 

 knowledge of a few points of little consequence seemingly 

 like these may make a marked difference in the contents 

 of one's game bag. 4. L. L. 



