92 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
(Feb. 1, 1896. 
looked like squirrel nests, he said in low tones, "Turkeys; 
take sure aim and all fire when I say shoot." Each one 
took aim and as King gave the word there seemed to be 
but one report. Then King said, "Sit down and keep still" 
in the same low tones, and he and Carlo left us for a few 
minutes. When they returned he gave each one of 
us a turkey, and carrying one himself he silently led us 
away from the roost. When we were nearing the fire he 
stated that the roost was a very large one, and by keeping 
• quiet and only shooting once we would. not break up the 
roost, but could "get turkeys whenever we wanted them." 
When the Judge expressed wonder how he could aim a 
rifle by moonlight, he said it was easy, "Turn your back 
to the moon, get your end sight, draw it down to your 
hind sight and then draw it on the game and you can 
shoot nearly as well as by daylight." (We were surprised 
at the result of our subsequent trials of moonlight rifle 
practice by this method.) Reaching the grove we found 
the wagons waiting and we soon ended our triumphant 
march to camp. 
As the Judge and I had adopted and were rigid ad- 
herents of the rule of only killing game when we could 
make use of it, we spent the next day in lounging about 
camp cleaning guns, loading shells and watching King 
and the darkies dress the game and prepare it for the 
table. While our bear was fat and in prime condition, I 
must award the prize of fatness to the opossums; I have 
never yet seen anything that would compare with them. 
After the game was all dressed King left camp with a 
basket for about an hour to return with a basketful of 
tubers, which bore some resemblance to artichokes and 
were called truffles by the Judge, but King called them 
camas roots. As we afterward leai-ned, they were the 
tuberous roots of a kind of lotus or pond lily. 
When the game was prepared for the roasting the 
'coons, possums and turkeys were filled and heaped over 
with sweet potatoes mixed with these camas roots, some 
persimmons and some boiled acorns of a small sweet 
varieiy; King and Sam each striving to make our supper 
a feast to long be remembered. While I will not attempt 
to estimate the number of pounds of roasted meat that 
graced our rude table that night, there was yet sufficient 
for all of every kind — bear, raccoon, possum and wild tur- 
key — and the charm of the flavoring imparted by the fill- 
ing made it one whose pleasant recollections yet imparts 
a relish to an appetite whenever memory lingers upon 
that supper, accompanied as it was with pure spring 
water and strong black coffee, free from trimmings. 
Feasted at the clubs of famous epicures of the East as 
the Judge had been, he awarded the honor to that supper, 
it was the richest and rarest feast he had ever enjoyed; 
and while we had frequent repetitions of it during our 
camp life, subsequent feasts lacked the charm of the 
novelty of the first one. Yet neither of us could ever find 
anything in the game line to compare with the flavor of 
an acorn and persimmon fattened turkey and an opossum. 
When we were smoking about the camp-fire that evening, 
the "possum" was voted by a unanimous vote par excel- 
lence the game of all game for a table luxury. As we 
kept adding new persimmon groves weekly to our domain, 
we always had a dozen or more possums festooning the 
trees about the camp. As the Judge said, "Like the 
Dutchman who put up thirteen barrels of sauerkraut for 
family use, 'we had shust a little kraut (possum) on hand 
to use to keep off sickness.' " 
[TO BE CONTINUED.] 
WITH THE BOBO BEAR PACK— I. 
A Goodly Party. 
They went into camp with the Bobo bear pack, after 
bears, in the Delta of the Mississippi. The party was a 
goodly one, and embi-aced Oapt. R. E. Bobo and son Fin- 
cher, and Mr. Felix Payne, of Bobo Station, Miss. ; Messrs. 
T. A. Divine and L. J, Lockwood, of Memphis, Tenn.; 
Mr. R. W. Foster, of New Orleans, La.; Col. Dick Payne, 
of the Yazoo Valley, Miss. ; Capt. N, L. Leavell, of Clarks- 
dale, Miss.; Col. Bob Edwards, Mr. James Dunn and Mr. 
James Dailey, of Coahomo county, Miss. ; Mr. Noel Money, 
of the E. C. Powder Co., Oakland, N. J., and others to the 
number of a dozen or more, who joined the party when 
they moved in from the railroad or after they had gone 
into camp. These, with their servants, made quite an 
extensive body for operations against the bears of the 
Delta. The total number of the pack at the beginning of 
the hunt was fifty -three dogs, and the famous pack of the 
famous bear hunter had never been in better fighting 
shape. 
Nov. 17 had been set by Messrs. Bobo, Foster and Divine 
as the date for going into camp, and promptly at the 
appointed hour, as the society reporter says, the high con- 
tracting parties moved down the aisle. All was merry as 
a marriage bell — in camp. Here in Chicago it wasn't. 
An unexpected crowd of business had kept me from join- 
ing my friends on the date mentioned, and I was made 
the more unhappy by telegrams from them. At last I 
concluded the business very nicely by pitching it in a 
heap and taking the Illinois Central train South. The 
hunt had then been in progress four days. 
At Memphis I was met at the train by Tom Divine, 
whom I had supposed to be down in the woods killing 
bears. It seemed that he and Mr. Lockwood had both 
been called home by business. Mr. Divine calmly told me 
that the party had killed six bears before he left. "Go 
on down in there and kill yourself a few bears for your 
winter meat," he said. "They're thicker'n rabbits." Then 
he told me where to go and I went.^ 
"Right Here." 
I am not at liberty to say where Mr. Divine told me to 
go. "Right here let me say," as the'amateur writer 
always remarks. Yes, right here let me stop the story of 
the Bobo bear pack and say something important. 
Last fall, as I related in the "Sunny South" articles in 
Forest and Stream, I was the guest of Capt. Bobo, who 
took me out with him and gave me a royal hunt in which 
we killed three bears in four days. In describing this 
hunt I took pains to say that the country was not open 
country for the public, that non-residents could not hunt 
without invitation in Coahoma county, and that Capt. 
Bobo was not a hunter nor a guide, but a gentleman 
planter who hunted only for his own pleasure. Reference 
tb thbse issues will show that while I did not wish to keep 
such pleasant experiences altogether secret, I deprecated 
attempts On the part of strangers, who did not understand 
the ways of the country, to duplicate such experiences in 
toto. I was afraid then that some annoyance would 
ensue to the kindly man who had been my host, and who 
had still left near his home one of the rarest of all posses- 
sions in America — a bit of good game country. In speak- 
ing enthusiastically over this country and over Capt. 
Bobo's prowess as a hunter — for beyond doubt America 
never at any time saw his equal as a hunter of bears, nor 
one who approaches him in the number of bears killed — I 
had no thought of injuring that country or that man. I 
had some uneasiness when I found I had to ignore some 
bold requests from strangers to be "put into" that country 
with Capt. Bobo. Still it never occurred to me that 
strangers would write to Capt. Bobo and ask to be invited 
to his house, any more than they would write and ask Mr. 
Vanderbilt to invite them to his house. The right would 
be equal in either case. I would rather be asked to Capt. 
Bobo's house because I think he sets a better table than 
Mr, Vanderbilt does; but if they both didn't want me, I 
think I would rather ask Mr. Vanderbilt for an invita- 
tion. As politely and as fairly as I could, I tried to make 
everybody see this, and yet tried to give Forest and 
Stream the news. 
The News of One Year. 
I gave Forest and Stream the news in 1894. Now, 
one short year afterward, I want to give it the news 
again. Then people can draw their own conclusions 
about certain things, and can incidentally draw some 
conclusions about the game supply of America, and the 
scramble to get at the remnants of it. 
Capt. Bobo told me that since the publication of the 
articles above mentioned he had letters from almost 
every country in Europe and from all over the United 
States — actually hundreds of letters and from all kinds 
of men, offering all sorts of things, wanting all sorts of 
things, inquiring all sorts of things. He told me that he 
had a great stock of these letters all left unanswered. 
Surprised and mortified at learning of so unexpected a 
result of my happy chronicle of last fall's sport, I begged 
to be allowed to answer these letters for him in Forest 
and Stream, and so to make what reparation I could. 
He deepened my chagrin into painf ulness with the sad- 
ness of his voice as he replied, "It is too late now." 
Of the details of this, of the remedy which is proposed 
for immediate application by the men of the Delta I shall 
have more to say elsewhere. What I must say here is that 
Capt. Bobo, anxious to please his friends Mr. Divine and 
Mr. Foster and their friends, set out to locate the bears 
before pitching the camp. He went out into the country 
where we had had such sport last fall — the country where 
all his life he has had such abundant sport — and he tried 
to find the game which heretofore had always been so 
accessible. He found no bears; but he found over 100 
campers, who in some way had gotten into the region. 
There were five parties from different parts of Illinois 
and two from Kentucky. They had actually cut trails 
into the cane and were camped all over the old Bobo bear 
grounds. A few of them had dogs. Not one of them had 
killed a bear, nor were they apt to kill one; but they had 
been shooting at everything that moved, from a Bquirrel 
to a deer, and they had tramped and burned the country 
off, and frightened the game entirely away. In one sea- 
son it was ruined. Capt. Bobo pressed on down into 
another part of the Delta, trying to get below the camps 
of still-hunters and trying to locate the bears. He did 
locate them and killed two before the main party came in. 
But all through this hunt there was sadness in Bob Bobo's 
heart. To rob him of his sport of bear hunting is to rob 
him of his comfort and pleasure in fife. 
I am telling the news of 1895 when I say that in one 
year this country has been ruined over a large portion, 
and that in two years it will be ruined entirely unless 
swift measures are taken to prevent it — wiped out, de- 
populated, done for. The bears can not be killed in num- 
bers in that country, but they can be disturbed and 
troubled until they cease to breed, as is always the case 
with big game when harassed. 
When Bobo saw this state of things he consigned all 
newspapers to perdition, and when he saw me he said, 
"I wish I had killed you last fall instead of the bear." 
Then he invited me to sit down and talk it over. 
This, frankly, is the statement which covers the situa- 
tion in that part of the Delta. It is the news. I regret 
that I must write it so. Alas! that the influence of a great 
sporting journal should be in some respects what it is — 
not through its own fault, but because human nature is 
what it is. Next to the game markets a great sporting 
journal is the greatest of all factors in the destruction of 
game. I know that in my work — and I was born with 
an honest desire to see the game of this country preserved 
— I get the fewest of responses to the records of efforts at 
game protection. But if by innocent good fortune I 
speak of a good game country, as I always like to do, 
behold the results in Capt. Bobo's desk full of letters. 
I do not blame a good fellow for wanting to spend his 
week or so of vacation in a place where he can get some 
shooting (or thinks he can), and I do not blame any fel- 
low for wanting as good sport as he can get; and I am 
sure I would like to see beth these fellows, and all the 
other fellows, have all sorts of fun in God's free, open 
world, away from the houses. But I do say to both these 
fellows, and all the other fellows, You see how it is. Here 
is the news. You can't be always running a little further 
and a little further away from your own homes to get at 
the good game countries. The game countries do not 
last, they soon will be gone. You must begin to improve 
your own game countries. 
On with the Dance. 
It may be seen that the sentiment of the counti-y where 
our hunt took place quite forbids my naming the locality. 
But now on with the dance. I am going to tell my story 
now of the hunt, albeit somewhat sadly since the situa- 
tion is so embarrassing a one, and all the more sadly be- 
cause of the death (since the hunt) of Mr. Felix Payne, 
which event I have mentioned earlier in these columns. 
Tom Divine told me where to go, and I went. I came 
at last to the railroad station, and there I chartered what 
in New York is called an Afro- American, and what in 
Mississippi is called a "nigger" (negro), and embarking in 
a rickety buggy preceded by a sort of horse, headed for 
the camp. The driver didn't know the road and was 
plenty scared, but we headed into the wilderness just the 
same, and when we couldn't find any trail we followed 
bayous, aad at last, to make a long ride short, juBt before 
dark we crossed the river, and a blast of my horn 
brought out a roaring chorus from apparently a thousand 
dogs. 
The camp I found to consist of two old buildings once 
used as a timber camp. And there was a rousing fire. 
And there was Bob Bobo himself, smiling; and there was 
Mr. Foster, as pleasant as if he had not just awakened 
from a profound slumber. And there was Noel Money 
leaning over the fence. And there were some gentlemen 
I knew and some I did not know. But I knew Jim, the 
colored cook who had presided over the camp at the 
mouth of the Mississippi last winter, and so I knew that 
all was well in the shanty where the cook stove was. 
I soon found that Mr. Divine's statement of the number 
of bears killed, large as it was, was not large enough. 
The party had killed eight bears in six daysl Two had 
been killed the day after Mr. Divine and Mr. Lockwood 
left. Capt. Bobo assured me that the bears were fat as 
hogs and really "thick as rabbits" on a fine piece of mast 
they had found, about six miles away. "You ought to 
have been here with us," he said. "The dogs are crippled 
up a good deal by this lime — we've got eleven tied up 
now — bit up too bad to go, and there are about six or eight 
more that are nearly as bad off. You've missed a heap of 
fun by being so late." 
I explained the reason of my delay, and then calmly 
told Capt. Bobo I had come to stay till February but what 
I killed a bear; which he said was much better than our 
four days' trip last year. 
It may be urged by many that to kill so many bears in 
so short a time was indulging in too much Killing, and 
that the mea.t must have been wasted. In regard to the 
latter point, I must say that the objection could not hold, 
for none of the meat was wasted. Almost as soon as I 
got into camp I asked Capt. Bobo for a piece of bear meat, 
which I wished to send out to the railroad by my driver, 
to be shipped North to my friends who might like a taste 
of bear. Much to Capt. Bobo's surprise, he was unable to 
find any bear left around the camp except one small one, 
which was inside one of the sleeping rooms. In accord- 
ance with the customs of the country, those of the party 
who had gone home/all the visitors and all the departing 
servants had helped themselves each in accordance with 
his own ideas. The dogs were fed very little meat, ex- 
cept at the skinning of the bear after the kill. But around 
the Bobo camps there are always a great many hanging 
who can use up a good deal of meat, and these, with the 
members of the party and their friends, could and actu- 
ally did get away with a bear a day and more, to say 
nothing of the skins. It was a lavishly generous host ana 
an abundance of supply which obtained here in this rich 
and generous land. It was sport on a great scale, though 
not sport to which actual waste of meat was attached. 
The Record of the Week. 
That night in camp we sat up late around the fire and 
discussed the events of the day — that is to say, some of 
us did. Mr. Foster had soon after my arrival put in prac- 
tice his theory of a vacation, and had peacefully dropped 
off to sleep, with his boots on. At midnight we roused 
him up and told him he would sleep better with his boots 
off; whereupon he woke up fresh and bright, and told 
stories to the rest of us until daybreak. You could never 
tell what Mr. Foster's methods of taking rest might 
mean. As for Col. Dick Payne and Capt. Leavell, they 
both sat astride of a bench, facing each other, and fought 
the war all over again from start to. finish, and then fell 
into a sociable game of poker, in which a white chip was 
won worth a plantation. These two gentlemen had never 
met before this hunt, but at once struck up a great friend- 
ship and were inseparable throughout the stay. 
Inquiry as to the details of the hunting done in the 
past week showed that the sport had been almost too 
abundant and easy to be exciting. On Thursday, just a 
week and one day before my arrival, Capt. Bobo killed 
the first bear. On Thursday it rained and they did not 
hunt. On Friday Capt. Bobo killed another bear. On 
Saturday and Sunday they did not hunt. On Monday 
following Mr. Felix Payne killed oae and on Tuesday 
Capt. Bobo killed another. On Tuesday a hunter belong- 
ing with another party from an adjoining timber camp 
killed one, and on that day Noel Money got his first 
shot. This was at a bear that had treed, and Money 
aimed to shoot it through the brain, but struck it a little 
too far forward, on the jaw, the bullet ranging down 
and not dropping the bear, which went higher up the tree, 
Money and others firing several shots at once, which 
tumbled him out dead. On Wednesday a very large bear 
was started, weighing at least 5001bs., and was fired at 
by Bobo early in the chase. This bear went to the "Hur- 
ricane," a very bad piece of windfall and cane, and 
fought the dogs savagely, killing one fine dog and crip- 
pling five more. Pressing into the dense cover, Fincher 
Bobo found this bear lying down, as if hurt, and put a 
bullet through his head. No other bullet mark was 
found on this bear. On Thursday a bear was treed, and 
Mr. Foster was told to come up and kill it, Felix Payne 
sitting meantime on his horse watching the bear to keep 
it up the tree. 
Here Mr. Foster's kindheartedness lost him his shot. 
Bill, one of the colored bear hunters of the party, was 
having trouble with his mule, which had slipped its 
bridle, and Mr. Foster stopped an instant to help him. 
While he was occupied there the bear slipped down the 
tree and made off again. It passed by Bobo and Money, 
who both made into the cane to head it. Bobo lost his 
hat a time or two, and when he stopped to get it the last 
time Money passed him and was first to shoot. He 
knocked the bear down, but it got up, and a moment later 
Bobo knocked it down with a second shot, and I under- 
stand one of the colored hunters also shot into it. It was 
a very big bear and would not quit easily, but went on 
eating dogs. Both Bobo and Money started in to kill it j 
with their knives, when Bobo tripped and fell almost in 
the bear's mouth. Money stabbed the bear in the back j 
with his knife (a handsome East Indian weapon of fine 
steel, inlaid with gold, which was given him by an East 
Indian dignitary whose life he once saved in a pig-stick- 
ing expedition or some close call of the kind, I believe). 
He plunged the narrow blade into the furry hide once or 
twice, though not at once dropping the bear. Bobo at 
the next instant was up and stabbed the animal with his [ 
huge bear knife, and at last the bear gave it up. So 
nearly as I could learn, this was the best fun of the whole 
trip. Ordinarily, the killing of a black bear is a very 
tame performance, and the chief sport consists in the rid- ; 
ing and the music of the chase. Of these bears, two were 
big ones. The others were mostly about the average size. 
The one killed out of the tree was small. The number of v 
hunters had been so large that it was sometimes pretty < 
