80 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 18, 18D6. 
of leaves a long gray crawled out and Btarted for the 
clouds. S. Btopped him with the right barrel and my left 
choke brought him to bag. This waB a good beginning, 
although it was not rabbit shooting. As we could start no 
more and it was getting toward breakfast time we went 
back to the house, and while showing the two victims 
heard Stub again barking in the woods east of the house. 
"Guess I'll go down and see what he has got," saidBrose, 
slipping five shells into his pocket and taking his Colt. 
Pretty soon we heard him bang! then bang! and bang! 
Then silence. Then bang! Another silence of possibly 
five minutes, followed by another bang, and Brose and 
Stub coming toward the house. 
"How many?" we asked. 
"One," he replied, holding up the mate of the big fellow 
we secured through the dog. "Stub had him driven up 
the tree, and he was hiding in a crotch. I gave him one 
barrel, which started the ball rolling, and then missed with 
the Becond. He went up into a nest and I fired a couple of 
shots into it, but he never stirred. I thought he was 
probably dead in the nest and started to climb up, when 
out he came like a streak, but the last shot caught him on 
the jump, and here he is. Now let's get something to eat 
and then start the hounds." 
Our breakfast was soon over and down to the barn we 
went, where B. let out the hounds. Old Trim was a little 
stiff and looked upon the enthusiasm of the younger dogs 
with something of an envious expression on his wise old 
face, but he didn't waste any of his strength racing about. 
Down across the meadow we went, past the bog hole and 
struck toward the hundred acre lot. Spreading out with 
the hounds running along the line we went through for 
several hundred yards. Presently the Doctor's voice was 
heard to the right, echoed by that of Rover. They were 
driving straight away and then circled toward the right, 
where S. was anxiously waiting. 
Nothing had been heard of old Trim until now, when I 
caught the sound of his peculiar whine toward the left. 
Nearer and nearer he came, then circled toward the left. 
Now he was going past too far for me to get a Bight of 
him, but suddenly turned and went back, crossing the 
track and giving tongue to the right of the start. 
B. and S. had started after the younger dogs and I was 
left by myself. Even Trim seemed to have joined the 
rest, for I could hear nothing of him, and not wishing to 
repeat my venture of last year when I lost track of every- 
thing — dogs and men — and having to flounder around in 
the brush and swamp, I too started toward where I had 
last heard the Doctor. Hearing a rustling of brush I 
looked up and saw Trim nosing along the ground. The 
old fellow saw me. "Go on, old boy," said I, and away 
he went, carefully working along. I watched him until 
out of sight, and then hearing nothing again started 
toward the rest. Nothing was to be heard of them, how- 
ever, and I sat down on a log to await developments. 
It was rather a gloomy outlook. Rain had commenced 
to fall again. The brush was soaked and the heavy sul- 
len look of the clouds bid fair to send us home with 
nothing to Bhow for our day's work. Growing anxious 
at the silence I again started toward where B. had last 
stood, and struck into a mass of bull briers, in which I 
was soon well mixed up. With one leg well wrapped 
around with the tough prickly nuisances, my gun tangled 
up in several more, the branches of the sprouts slapping 
my face as I endeavored to get myself together, the cold 
rain falling down the back of my neck, the thought that 
B. and S. were probably a mile off, I was fast becoming 
desperate. I must get to the dogs if I wanted to get a 
shot; but just as I was nearly cleared I suddenly heard 
Trim give tongue on my left, heard a rush, saw a streak 
of dirty white shoot past quartering to the right. Some- 
how the little 12-gauge came to shoulder in an instant, 
the sight caught the shooting streak well forward of the 
head; crack! and I had the surprise as well as pleasure of 
seeing the rabbit jump into the air and fall. Trim was 
coming at full speed, giving tongue briskly until he came 
to the bunch of gray. Then he stopped, sat down and 
looked at me with a knowing expression, as if to say, 
"You stay with me, young fellow, and you'll be all right. 
I haven't been looking after that chap for the last half 
hour for nothing." Drawing the game and giving Trim 
the head was the next move. Then we Btarted out and 
ran across B. , who was coming toward the sound of the 
shot. He had been in the neighborhood all the time 
watching Trim, but S. was nowhere to be seen. A few 
yells located him away off, and in the meantime we 
heard Stub barking sharply behind us. 
"Stub's got one holed, sure enough," said B., and to- 
gether we made .our way toward the sound. Here we 
found Stub digging away at a hole, while Rover and 
Trim, catching the scent, assisted him with their baying. 
Driving the dogs away, B. examined the hole and then 
cut a long switch, which he poked into the hole, and a 
moment later out came the cause of the excitement. 
Giving the head to Stub we again started out to find S., 
and after considerable yelling back and forth came across 
him. He had been in much the same situation as myself, 
but failed to get a shot. This was certainly discouraging. 
Only two thus far, but the weather was growing worse, 
and after trying for another hour we struck back toward 
the river, and coming through the brush near the pond 
hole started a partridge, at which S. took a snap shot, but 
failed to bring to bag. This made him feel badly, but 
soon after a couple of quail rose directly in front of us 
near B. His big Colt boomed out, but nothing fell, and 
S. felt better, for B. is a crack shot. We were now in no 
condition for further work. We were wet, rattled, dis- 
gusted. My boots weighed a ton and the house was a 
welcome sight. The good smell of a country .dinner and 
the warm Kitchen soon made us better-natured, however, 
and we talked of the afternoon's plans. 
"You fellows didn't see anything of that deer that's 
hanging around here, did you?" asked R. at the dinner 
table. "I would go out with you this afternoon if I 
thought I could get a shot at him. Guess there isn't much 
show for anything else, anyway." 
Now a word about that deer. For a couple of weeks 
before S. and I went down to Greene there had been con- 
siderable excitement over the find of the tracks of a 
Btrange animal, which, as I have already told the Forest 
and Stream, was undoubtedly a deer. Where the animal 
came from no one can tell, A deer was reported as being 
seen near Sneach Pond in the northwestern portion of 
the State, and again seen twice near the Riverside woods 
further south, and a few weeks after our return one of 
our friends declares he saw a buck while squirrel shooting 
fifty miles west of Greene. As I have already said, when 
we came back to the city and reported this fact we were 
well laughed at, yet we are all convinced that the tracks 
seen were those of a deer, and although it would have 
been positive proof to have had the animal shot, yet I for 
one am glad that he escaped. I believe that if we could 
have a few deer started here in our big woods (and there 
are still some very wild places in our little State), protected 
by a ten-year law, we could have larger game than rab- 
bits to tramp after. Of course the woods are filled with 
gunners, but when you come to look at the average one 
could smile and see that a cunning deer could easily evade 
the numbskulls that carry a gun and pose as sportsmen. 
It would take a good man to get a deer in the wildest 
parts here. The grouse have held their own since the 
abolishment of the snares, and the natural shrewdness of 
an old buck would in a measure be his safeguard. Com- 
pare the number of guns in Maine with the actual num- 
ber of deer brought to bag and we still find the deer in- 
creasing. It's not all of hunting to have a gun and know 
how to use it. It is something to get a deer in a favorable 
position! 
After dinner we started out again, more especially after 
squirrels. The dogs were thought to be safely housed in 
the barn, but we had been down the road but a half mile 
when down they all came. B. said he would take them 
and go down in the swamp, while S. and I watched the 
holes and waited for the grays to come out of the brush. 
Selecting our positions, we lit our pipes and waited. Now, 
there is a fascination in waiting and watching for the 
shrewd little fellows on a good day, when the woods are 
bright; but imagine such a day aB we were having. It 
was nearly as dismal an outlook as one could imagine. 
The half-frozen rain drizzled down one's neck, making 
everything wet, cold anduncomf ortable. My feet grew stiff , 
and I could hardly help but think that any squirrel that 
had a warm hole was a fool to be out such weather; but 
this was the only day we could get, and our hope was that 
some gray would be fool enough to be out. In the mean- 
time we could hear the hounds at intervals down in the 
swamp and brush, and soon S. appeared, shivering and 
gloomy looking. "Well," said I, "B. and the dogs are 
having some sort of fun: let's go down and get into gear." 
We started through the swamp, became mixed up in the 
briers, and heard B. fire twice. "Guess that settles it," 
remarked S. "We can't get through here, anyway. Let's 
go back." And back we went. No grays appeared, 
though, and as it was growing dark we struck off through 
the woods toward the road, where we waited for B. , and 
then struck through the brush toward the house. The 
dogs were running aimlessly ahead, followed by we three 
bedraggled fellows. B. and S. were directly ahead when 
I heard Stub bark, and at the same time saw S. raise his 
gun. Glancing in the direction the muzzle was pointing 
I saw a gray run up a tree, heard the sharp crack of the 
nitro, and fearing that the gray would get to hole, echoed 
the shot with my right barrel. It was Scott's game 
though. This gave us a little courage, but another hour 
in the woods brought nothing to light, and we gave up 
and turned toward the house. 
Well, it was certainly a poor day, all things considered. 
Only three rabbits and four squirrels to three guns and 
four dog6! Well,thatis the truth of the yarn. We didn't add 
thirty or forty more in imagination, and despite the bad 
weather and hard wet work we can look back and say 
that we did have a good time. We had no outrageous 
bag to boast of. We were not "goose-egged." In fact we 
were very well satisfied under the circumstances, and the 
fact that a few weeks after twenty-two rabbits and 
squirrels were shot in the same locality, and a few days 
after that a few miles from the place two others secured 
thirty-one pquirrels, does not dishearten us from our next 
year's outing at the old farm. True sportsmen, B. and S. 
and try -to-be I are contended with a modest bag, and me- 
thinks were the others who boast of their big bags com- 
pelled to take their chances with all things working to 
their disadvantage, and above all willing to tell the truth, 
their share of the results would be no better. 
Dick of Connecticut in the last issue hits the game hog 
pretty well in the neck. 
A large bag is the result of hoggishness, extreme good 
luck, expertness, or the effects of a lying disposition. 
A small bag, poor luck, poor shooting, or modesty. 
But above all a fair bag, honestly made, makes the 
sportsman well content with himself. Art. 
A DAY AND A NIGHT IN THE ROCKIES. 
In Forest and Stream of Nov. 30 I read with interest 
an article by E. L., entitled "Will's First Wapiti," and as 
I happen to be the ' 'Will" referred to, it struck me I would 
like to try and tell the story of the second occasion when 
my .38-55 "popgun" was tried upon large game. We had 
traveled pretty much all day, camping at about 3 o'clock, 
and while the men were making camp E. L. and I started 
off to get the lay of the land, preparatory to the morrow's 
hunt. After climbing the hill back of camp and scouting 
along the ridge a while, from whence we had a glorious 
view of valley and mountain, we were driven to cover by 
a sharp flurry of rain, but not until we had decided where 
our elk was to be looked for the next morning. Snugly 
housed, E. L. and I took turns showing the General how 
to play cribbage while planning the campaign. 
The General and guide were going off to the left, while 
E. L. and I were to try our luck in the opposite direction. 
Located as we were in a valley, between high hills, we did 
not see the sun before 7:30, so I did not hear the familiar 
"Turn out, it's 5 o'clock," which occurs in so many hunt- 
ing yarns; but instead was awakened by the rattling of 
dishes and the appetizing odor of broiled elk steak, cut 
from "Will's first wapiti." Without delaying longer than 
seemed needful in the bath, as the ice had first to be 
broken, we did full justice to the result of the combined 
skill of the tenderfoot and of Carlson, the cook, we put a 
few slabs of steak in our saddlebags, saw that our cartridge 
belts were full, and with one man to hold our horses in 
case of need, E, L. and I started some fifteen minutes after 
the General had "pulled his freight." 
After riding about an hour we struck the fresh trail of 
two horses, heading in the same direction we were taking, 
E. L. scanned the trail closely and decided that the General 
and the guide had changed their plans and were headed 
for our hunting ground. Sure enough a few moments 
later we saw them ahead of us skirting the side of a 
mountain. 
After a short consultation we decided to change our 
course and bore off to the left. No fresh signs rewarded 
us, however, and after climbing numerous ascents which 
bore, to me, a striking resemblance in angle to the roof of 
a church, and working our way through windfalls or jun- 
gles, as our guide would call them, until I began to feel 
if not sore of heart at least sore of seat, we halted beside 
a little creek and ate every last crumb of our lunch, and 
while we smoked the soothing pipe discussed plans for the 
rest of the day. Starting out again we went down the 
other side of the mountain into some heavy timber, and 
in the little parks here and there began to find fresh elk 
tracks; coming into a large meadow finally, we found it 
all cut up with tracks, some old, but some new. Leaving 
the man to follow with our horses, we started across 
toward the timber on the other side, and almost im- 
mediately heard the shrill challenge of a bull from the 
woods ahead of us. We soon got into cover, and carefully 
making our way through the undergrowth soon saw 
through the bushes the yellow side of an elk; creeping 
slowly on we were presently able to see the elk plainly, 
but, to our disappointment, it proved to be a cow. Then 
lying hid by the bushes, with the wind in our faces, we 
were treated with a sight I shall never forget, as a band 
of some twenty cows and calves came out into the little 
open park ahead of us; the cows quietly feeding and the 
calves frolicking about, made a very pretty picture. 
After watching them for some minutes and deciding 
there was no bull with the band, we retraced our steps, 
mounted our horses and rode on in the direction we still 
heard the whistle of the bull. Coming suddenly from 
the woods out upon an arm of the meadow we saw about 
150yds. off two bulls, one a spike and the other about a 
ten-point. Springing from my horse I got sight on the 
spike, now trotting fast away, and pulled. Both bulls 
disappeared into the ravine, and as the spike had turned 
at right angles I hurried forward, hoping to catch him as 
he passed down the ravine, but before I had covered 
much ground he appeared walking slowly, and shortly 
stopped with his head turned toward me. Sighting for 
his eye I fired, and was surprised that he did not fall. 
The next shot, through the neck, however, killed him. I 
then found my first shot had struck him in the flank, 
passing clear through him and out back of the shoulder 
on the opposite side; the second shot hit him within lin. 
of the eye, and either one would have been fatal. 
Profiting by our former experience, we "butchered" 
this animal with reasonable dispatch and only one small 
nick in "Will's new knife." 
After hanging up the hind quarters, to be taken to camp 
the next day, we started for home, as the shadows were 
lengthening, and we had a long, rough road to travel. 
We were making the best of our way when loud and 
clear sounded the call of a bull, followed by the peculiar 
grunt, showing he was not far away. I had killed two 
elk and was ready to quit, but E. L. , having given me the 
chances, had not killed any and was still bloodthirsty; so 
while I advocated getting to camp as soon as possible he 
wished to get this one, "It wouldn't take long." We 
accordingly left our horses and plunged into the woods, 
hearing the shrill whistle and guttural grunt every few 
steps. Soon E. L. (in the lead) stopped, and I saw he had 
his eye on the game. Coming up to him I saw the tawny 
side of a big bull, his head hid by a big pine tree. E. L. 
fired and the elk started off through the trees. "Shoot 
him!" he cried. "Notmuch!" said I,"killyour own game!" 
Well, E. L. got in one more shot as the elk crashed through 
the timber and we soon found his trail well marked with 
blood, and followed it till thinking I would wait until E. L. 
had bagged him I sat down on a log and awaited develop- 
ments. Soon a shot rang out through the forest, then 
another, and I started on to assist at the butchering. Before 
going very far I came on a spike bull just breathing his 
last with a hole through his heart. I leaned my rifle 
against a tree and was just bleeding him when bang! 
went another shot two or three hundred yards off, soon 
followed by another. I followed the sound and presently 
discovered E. L. in a dazed condition; asking how many he 
had, he told me he had run on to a "whole flock" of bulls, 
had fired at several, he really didn't know how many, but 
the spike was all he was sure he had bagged. As I was 
fearful of being caught out in the dark, I insisted on 
letting them go and we hurried back, cut up the dead 
bull and hung up his hind quarters, and started back to 
the horses. By the time we had reached them the sun had 
entirely disappeared and darkness was rapidly falling. 
Quickly mounting we started over a trail (?) which I would 
have been unable to find in broad day, and which to my 
inexperience seemed dangerous at best. The state of my 
mind may be imagined when as we advanced the trail (?) 
disappeared entirely in the darkness, and we dismounted, 
were scrambling up steeps and sliding down into canons 
with the horses on our heels, or f ailing over unseen logs, 
without the slightest idea where we were or in what di- 
rection we were headed. E, L., however, is a born woods- 
man and was confident he knew "where we were at" and 
insisted on pushing on, knowing that the whole camp 
would be alarmed about us, until finally, after I had fallen 
flat at least a dozen times and had removed portions of 
my cuticle an each occasion, I was inwardly devoutfully 
thankful to hear him say we would have to give it up. 
Selecting as well as we could in the darkness a sheltered 
spot we picketed the horses, 4 "rustled" some dead wood, 
and soon had a cheerful fire going, then scouted around 
till we struck a little mountain brook, and after drinking 
our fill proceeded to roast some slices of elk liver, which 
we were compelled to eat without salt; then after smoking 
a pipe or two built another fire a little distance from the 
first, as the air was decidedly cool, rolled ourselves in our 
saddle blankets, with saddles for pillows, between the two 
fires, went to sleep, and much to my surprise slept all 
night, waking in the morning a little stiff and empty, but 
otherwise none the worse. 
No time was lost getting under way, and we soon dis- 
covered that E. L. had his bearings all right, but when I 
thought of going through the country we had to to reach 
camp in the dark I was still more thankful that we had 
not attempted it. We reached camp just as breakfast was 
ready, and we soon proved that we were ready too. 
We were much disappointed to learn that the General 
and the guide had not seen anything again. 
During the rest of our trip we never left camp without 
some salt, and I advise other tenderfeet to follow our 
example. Will. 
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