June 2, 18H4.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



467 



as the ice was not of sufficient thickness to make it certain. 

 Still I started across. 



"When about half way to the shore below where the 

 camp was located, I heard a long continued scream and 

 snarl, I knew then I was followed by a wildcat or panther, 

 or at least one was behind me. This was repeated, only 

 a howl and shriek followed. That I hastened my foot- 

 steps is only putting it mildly. Jumping ashore, Ihurried 

 along the bank to the camp, the yells continuing. I got 

 inside the camp door when a dog jumped over me as I 

 was setting down my luggage, and a piercing scream fol- 

 lowed at the same time, such as I shall never forget. I 

 sprang and shut the door and barred it. 

 I "I was just in time, for the animal at that moment 

 came against the door with a howl of disappointed rage. 

 I loaded my shotgun with double charges and nailed up 

 the windows and other open places in the camp, and then 

 sat down and waited developments. The dog had un- 

 doubtedly been chased by the catamount and sought 

 refuge at the camp. All night long he remained around 

 the camp, howling and snarling and jumping against the 

 door and then on to the roof. I sat on guard all night 

 long, and I assure you I was glad when daylight began to 

 appear. 



"As the morning advanced he left. All around the 

 I camp were tracks Bin. long. He must have been a very 

 large animal. The dog proved to be one owned at the 

 nearest settlement, and was very likely in pursuit of a 

 deer when he ran into the catamount. The next day I 

 came out." . H. F. W. 



Uncle Jack's High Jumps. 



There is one thinar about summer hunting in the South 

 I cannot get used to, and that is snakes. I do not see 

 many, but I know they are about, and also that they are 

 b-a-d snakes, too. Often a lizard scurrying, away in the 

 leaves will make cold chills run up and down my spinal 

 column, and taking into consideration that where I hunt 

 there is a dense growth of switch-cane and the ground 

 hard to see, it does not tend to increase my confidence or 

 decrease my expectations of feeling a squirming reptile 

 under my foot every time I put it down. 



Speaking of being afraid of snakes puts me in mind of 

 an old gentleman who lived in the neighborhood of where 

 I trained dogs once. His name was Smith. He went by 

 the title of Uncle Jack. The story was related to me by 

 his wife, Aunt Sally, so I guess it is true. I will give it as 

 near as possible in Aunt Sally's own words: 



"So you are afeard of snaikes, be ye? I 'low you kain't 

 be more skeerd of them th'n my husband, Uncle Jack 

 Smith, was. Law, he was that skeerd that he was a 

 plum f ule about snaikes. 



"I rec'lec' one spring he wus plowing out sum young 

 co'n, about as high as his a'mpits, en I went down to the 

 fence to kerry him sum fr'sh water. Now, he h'd clean'd 

 up a little strip of briars en sweet gum sprouts, bet'n where 

 ther plowin' stop'd en ther fence, en ther briars en bushes 

 were lyin' jist as they'd bin cut. Uncle Jack wus a leetle 

 hard o' heering, en I hed to holler mighty loud 'fore he 

 seed me with the water. Wen he did, he turned his hoss 

 around en stuck his plow in the groun', en started toward 

 ther fence whar I wus. I notice he pick'dhis way mighty 

 gingerly, first going this way en then that; but I knowed 

 what a 1 ule he w.us about snaikes, so let him cum his own 

 way. 



"Fin'Jy. lie got to whar I wus, en got his water en start'd 

 back to his plow ag'in. 



"He had on a pa'r o' jean pants, en you know howeny- 

 thing that is stuck into them will hold. Well, he poked 

 erlong as keerful as he did cumin', en wus getting erlong 

 all right till a big briar happened to ketch ther bottom ov 

 his pants. 



"I seed in er minute that he wus going to get skeer'd en 

 act ther fule, so befo' he hed a chance to look eround en 

 see what it wus, I squalled as loud as I could, 'Hit's a 

 br-i-d-rP 



"I never knowed Uncle Jack was that soople, tho' I 

 hed knowed him all my life, for no sooner did I squall 

 that it wus a briar, then he rose in ther air like he wus 

 one ov these high-jumpin' chaps in the sarcus; but as high 

 as he jumped that briar stayed right with him. Well, he 

 no sooner lit than I yelled again as loud as I could, 'Hit's 

 a bria-rP And the moment I hollered he made another 

 jump into the air, like he expected to lite on sumtbing 

 en stay up there. En then I hollered as fast as I could. 

 *HiPs a bri-a-r! a bri-ar! a br-i-a-r! a b r-i-a-r!' And 

 every time I squalled he would jump as high as the topov 

 the co'n, until finally the briar cum loose, and he made a 

 big circle so as to not cum back ther way he went out, en 

 he leaned up ag'in his plow just completely tuckered out. 

 I wus so mad at his actin' sich a fu'e I wouldn't speak to 

 him. Finally he said: 



" Aunt Sally, I believe a tarnal snaike will be the de'th 

 o' me yet.' 



" 'Hit wusn't no snaike, ye old fule,' sed I. 'I kept tell- 

 ing you it wus nuthing but a briar. What on earth did 

 yer go skipping off like a kid in a desert land for?' 



" 'Why,' sed he, weak like, 'I thought you hollered 

 "jump higher." ' 



"En that old fule went jumping as high as he could, 

 with me hollering hit wus a briar, thinking all the time I 

 sed 'jump higher.' 



"I sed afterward to the old man, 'What do you always 

 want to run for when you see a snaike?' 



"En he says right solemn like, 'Aunt Sally, I always runs 

 because I kain't fly.'" 



I am a sort of that way about snake3 myself. I do not 

 care about them in the open where I can see them, but in 

 a thick place, where the snake has ninety-nine chances to 

 bruise my heel to my one of countering on his head, I am 

 like Uncle Jack— -"I run because I can't fly." 



W. W. Titus. 



Another Witch Duck. 



Apropos of Mr, Gallup's witch ducks: On one occasion 

 we had our decoys out, about half a mile north of where 

 the steam launch was anchored, in McKee's "pocket," on 

 the Yazoo River. We took them in before dark and pro- 

 ceeded in the skiff toward the launch. During the after- 

 noon several of the decoys had got away and dri/ted 

 below. When about half-way to the launch one of them 

 was seen near the edge of the water. The skiff was 

 headed that way to pick it up. When about 40yds. from 

 the duck, I, who sat in the bow, distinctly saw it move 

 its head, and promptly raised m ^ gun and fired— without 

 apparent result. We approached and picked it up, when 

 it proved to be a well peppered greenhead wooden decoy. 

 8 MlssresiPFj, QOAHOMAi 



§xn(0 §zg mi §n% 



AFTER ANTELOPE IN THE BAD LANDS. 



There is a section of high, barren land between the Big 

 Horn Mountains and the Black Hills in Wyoming which 

 is on the regular migration trail of the antelope herds that 

 summer in Montana and Canada and winter in New Mex- 

 ico and Arizona. Around the heads of the Little Missouri, 

 the Belle Fourche and Little Powder rivers there is a part 

 of this land that furnishes good pasture for both deer and 

 antelope. An occasional sheep, too, crosses the broken 

 ridges which mark the heads of the rivers and their trib- 

 utaries, but the antelope are now the most plentiful of any 

 of the big game of the region. Antelope summer through 

 this belt of country and are numerous from April to No- 

 vember, and if hunted right are easily killed. 



One September day we found our larder empty so far 

 as meat was concerned at the ranch, and that meant to go 

 hunting that day or go meat hungry the next. The light 

 team was hitched up, field glasses and rifles overhauled, 

 and we started for the antelope pastures a short distance 

 to the northwest. The sun was well up before we left but 

 we were in good game country by 10:30 and had rounded 

 up a "mess" of young curlews, which go very well for a 

 change. Driving to the top of a ridge which commanded 

 a view of considerable country, we stopped and carefully 

 scanned the "flats" and pasture lands for the white "flag" 

 of the antelope, which, with a good glass, can be seen for 

 a long distance. A solitary buck was seen away to the 

 east, feeding along a side hill toward a little spring near 

 a cation head. 



Driving as near ate the lay of the ground would permit, 

 I jumped out and Started after him. By this time he had 

 worked down into the flat, and so far away from any 

 cov. r that I could not get a shot. I tried to crawl up be- 

 hind the sage brush, but he saw me and ran over to a 

 high butte where he was joined by a doe and two fawns, 

 one a yearling and the other only a few months old. 

 That spoiled my chances and I watched thpm scurry 

 away, out of my range, until they were lost to view among 

 the buttes. 



There are a great many old lake beds in this particular 

 part of the country which are now dry and grassed over, 

 furnishing the best of feeding grounds for the antelope. 

 These are the "flats" of prairie vernacular. 



After these antelope had disappeared I signaled to the 

 team to drive on while I struck across the country, swing- 

 ing over the rocky, cactus-covered hills at a good pace; 

 and soon got to the wagon again. 



Over a ridge to the northeast was another good feeding 

 ground and we struck for that next, bound to have our 

 meat if it took all day to get it. While on top of the 

 ridge, we saw throe feeding antelope at the mouth of a 

 small canon, where the ground was rough enough for 

 good cover. Quickly unhitching, we left the team out of 

 sight among the rocks and started down the cation after 

 them. We were a little late and they had fed past the 

 cafion when we got to the mouth of it, and "had the wind 

 on us," so we did not dare advance for fear of losing our 

 game again, and we lay still waiting a favorable chance 

 for a flank move. They went slowly down the valley 

 nibbling at bunches of grass and tender shoots until they 

 were joined by seven more which we had not seen before. 

 They now left off feeding and started in a leisurely way 

 for water, always leaving one on top of the hill while 

 they crossed any little low place. This is a most provok- 

 ing habit, which antelope share with deer and other large 

 game, and if the hunter gets impatient the chances for a 

 shot are pretty slim. We lay behind the lava boulders 

 and sage brush, with a scorching sun burning our backs, 

 watching them travel along, looking back over their trail 

 with that peculiarly watchful, suspicious glance that all 

 wild animals display to a more or less degree. We lay 

 for perhaps twenty minutes before they passed out of 

 sight over a little ridge and gave us a chance to run for 

 the "breaks" on the other side of the cafion. 



In about a minute we were out of sight and safe across. 

 Now, unless they had winded us, we stood a very good 

 show to get a shot. Climbing up among the lava rocks 

 we reached the top of the mesa and walked rapidly along 

 in a parallel course with that of the cafion. After care- 

 fully scanning the stretch of valley and hillside, we found 

 that they had not taken the alarm and scattered when we 

 crossed the wind and were still in the cafion. There was 

 a spring a little further down, and for this we bent our 

 steps, rightly conjecturing that they were heading for 

 water, for contrary to the habits of most big game, the 

 antelope drink between 11 and 2 o'clock. 



Cautiously advancing toward the edge of the cafion we 

 surveyed every inch of the valley below us as it came into 

 view. A few minutes of this kind of work showed us the 

 bunch standing near the spring, and every one faced back 

 the way they had just come from, sniffing the air and 

 stamping suspiciously. The bucks had the hair of the 

 neck all "roached" up the wrong way, and were moving 

 about in a jerky, uneasy fashion, that said plainly enough 

 they had scented us when we crossed the cafion, but did 

 not know whether to run or not. They were so intent in 

 watching the cafion that our flank move was a surprise 

 and they knew nothing about our being above them until 

 bangl went my Winchester, and they scattered like a 

 bunch of sheep. I scored a clean mis-s at 15yds. By the 

 time they bunched and got. down to steady running Harry 

 was on hand with his old Springfield, and sent an ounce 

 ball into the middle of the herd, which had the effect of 

 starting them a notch faster. I got to work with the re- 

 peater and started ounce balls after the flying bunch as 

 fast as I could work the lever and shoot. About as 

 fast and regularly as a clock can tick, I sent a ball 

 out and the empty shell over my shoulder. The 

 echoes roar and rattle among the rocky nooks of 

 the cafion until the sound is like a volley of musketry. 

 One buck goes down, shot through the back about the 

 point of the hips, and still the Winchester cracks, barks 

 and hisses as it sends its ounce balls chasing each other 

 after the herd. Puffs and patches of dust burst up among 

 the frightened animals as they go racing along down the 

 cafion to windward and running so low they seem to skim 

 the sage tops. As they turn the corner the repeater cracks 

 a last time and a two-year-old buck turns a somersault, 

 landing with the whole top of his head shot off. Ten 

 shots have chased out of the rifle in about as many sec- 

 onds, and two antelope lie in the valley. Harry goes for 

 the team while 1 skin the prong-horns and let my rifle 

 cool. The shadow of a buzzard crosses and recrosses the 



valley as I work, and he waits, sailing overhead on stiff- 

 ened pinions for his share when we are gone. The other 

 antelope have gone long ago and the sun has traveled 

 three-quarters of his trip when we load our meat in the 

 wagon and skirt back across the brown grass country for 

 the ranch, crushing the thick pr'ckly pear into a slushy 

 mass under the wheels every few feet. Sage hens rise in 

 a heavy way as we jolt over the sage clumps, and an occa- 

 sional rattlesnake or horned toad slips away among the 

 cactus pads and boulders. Four more antelope are seen 

 on the way in, but we have meat in plenty; we let them 

 go until some othpr time; they will keep fresh longer that 

 way than they will dead, and they won't go south yet ftr 

 a while. El Comancho. 



IN A VIRGINIA GAME POCKET. 



The long-looked-f or 16th of November at last arrived. 

 We pulled in at C. an hour before sunset, and I had the 

 pleasure of beholding the friendly face of Tom, who was 

 in waiting with his buggy to convey me to his hospitable 

 home. I |was called early in the morning, and all was 

 in readiness for the deer hunt, and it fell to my lot to 

 occupy the "R" stand on the river. The party was com- 

 posed of Tom, his father, Embra, Wirt and his nephew, 

 Reginald, and myself. Several other neighbors were to 

 engage also. Wirt was to start five miles west and to 

 hunt toward the "R" stand. Others were also to hunt 

 from other points and converge on the same stand on the 

 Meherin River. I could hear dogs running at different 

 times, but before noon all was quiet, ho deer having come 

 my way. In the afternoon I held the same stand, and 

 had not been waiting long when I heard the dog; but it 

 was so indistinct that I could not tell in what direction it 

 was running, but soon found it was coming my way. 

 My eyes were strained to their utmost to see the deer. 

 My nerves tingled, though they were firm. My heart 

 beat a lively tattoo. The dog was nearly in sight on the 

 opposite hill. Just then the deer had doubled and the 

 dog was soon out of hearing. This finished the first day, 

 and I mentally consigned it with many more of the same 

 kind to the past. 



I went to bed early that night with the understanding 

 that I would be called at 4 o'clock next morning. The 

 last I remembered was how the wary deer could always 

 have the luck to give me the slip, when I noticed a light, 

 and looking up, there was the genial face of Embra. It 

 was 4 o'clock and time for me to get up for breakfast. 

 In a few minutes I was in the saddle, bound for my stand 

 on the Gullies, southeast of Rocky Level, where W. had 

 been running all of the day before. The deer had been 

 running around and dodging from place to place like a 

 cotton-tail, seeming to notice the dogs but very little, only 

 to keep out of their way, a lot of them always up at the 

 same time. 



The big-hearted Tom and I arrived at the Gullies just 

 after sunrise, I on a little knoll and Tom 80yds. to the 

 north, the deer sometimes going to either side. Round 

 about was a thick growth of old-field pines, except where 

 the soil was gone. Barely were we seated and still when 

 I heard the dogs coming; they approached very rapidly, 

 and finally ran within 10ft. of me, I straining my eyes to 

 the utmost. But no deer. After they had passed I 

 looked, and sure enough* there was the deer tracks, which 

 had passed before we arrived— another opportunity for 

 the deer to be numbered with the past. 



After holding my position for near an hour, carefully 

 looking west, I turned my eyes to the left and saw a doe 

 come loping easily direct to me, about 100yds. off. Fear- 

 ful that it might turn I did not move, in fact I hardly 

 drew my breath, until the deer was within 20yds. of me, 

 when I threw up my gun. But quick as I was it darted 

 to the left through a clump of thick pines. The third 

 jump left the flank to the fore shoulder exposed. In a 

 space between two pines I pulled the trigger, and it 

 tumbled in its tracks. I turned, my gun to the next space 

 for a second shot, but as the smoke cleared away I saw no 

 chance for a second shot. I was a little surprised, for I 

 had been told by Uncle Fuller not to be astonished if I 

 could not hit a flock of barns if I was shut up in one of 

 them. Indeed was it a tame affair. 



I called to the genial Tom and told him a rabbit. He 

 started to give me a reprimand, but on raising his head, 

 saw the deer kicking. His face fairly beamed with satis- 

 faction while he congratulated me for my successful shot. 

 Nothing but seeing his kindly face would give an idea of 

 how much satisfaction it gave him to see me bag my first 

 deer. We took it to the branch near by and prepared it 

 for shipment, for it was to be my first trophy ever shipped 

 home. We were hardly seated on our stands again when 

 I heard the dogs strike and come toward us rapidly. 



When the dogs got in 400yds. I saw a large buck com- 

 ing for me. My gun was to my shoulder when I whis- 

 pered to T., who was sitting to my back, "Let's both fire 

 at once." But this he flatly refused, saying he would not 

 pull a trigger till I was through, and to be sure and kill 

 him. The deer came on with an easy lope, but at 60yds. 

 wheeled to the left. Before he sprung I fired and dropped 

 him, but as he sprung to his feet I fired again, tumbling 

 him onoe more, but he was quickly on his feet again 

 with a broken leg. I told Tom to shoot and he fired two 

 more shots, hitting him with both, which seemed enough 

 to have killed anything, but he kept sroing. I had another 

 cartridge in by this time and brought him down again. 

 Both were large and in good condition, and the next 

 express took the only two. deerto my county that have 

 been shipped in my time. 



This was the little game pocket I had told brother 

 Hough of while I was in the White City, but did not tell 

 the location, as I wanted the pleasure of killing one 

 before saying too much about it, but now if he wishes to 

 enjoy some royal sport, if he will communicate with 

 me I will gladly take him along and we will enjoy it 

 together. 



How is it the deer do not seem to be afraid of the dogs? 

 The dogs, mostly hounds, go out in the morning and have 

 a race almost daily, though they rarely run more than an 

 hour or so, or to one of the rivers, where the chase 

 generally ends. Most of the deer I have seen in front of 

 dogs do not seem at all frightened. In one instance a 

 buck made his bed within rifle shot of where I stopped 

 for the night, with a hunter and four hounds. 



The deer seem greatly on the increase, as the citizens 

 say there are more there now than have ever been, though 

 the dogs are running them whenever they choose. A 

 number were killed the last season. W- G. D. 



Wbittle's Depot, Va. 



