110 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 8, 1896. 
UNCLE LISHA'S OUTING.-XI. 
The Canada Boat Departs. 
In prompt fulfillment of the night's prophecies, the 
morning dawning dully through a thick veil of clouds 
brought a drizzle of rain. This fell with such a drowsy- 
patter on the canvas roof that the inmates of the camp 
felt little inclination to bestir themselves till impelled to 
do so by hunger. 
Then Sam and Antoine crept out and after inspecting 
the lowering sky set about building a fire and making 
other preparations for breakfast, though Uncle Lisha 
advised a cold bite in the shelter of the tent. 
"No, sah," Antoine objected as he moved around the 
fire, quite regardless of the slow drizzle of rain except 
when the drip of an overhanging bough aroused a spite- 
ful sputter of the pan wherein two split ducks were frying. 
"We'll a'n't goin' for discourage de inside of us wid col' 
victual w'en de rine comin' on de aoutside. Ah tol' you, 
if mans wan' have hees heart warm he'll gat for had hees 
stommack warm. Ah'll can' faght wort' four cen' 'fore 
Ah'll gat good breakfis' wen Ah'll was in Papineau war." 
"Ner arter, nuther, I guess," Uncle Lisha commented, 
but Antoine took no notice of this imputation of a lack of 
valor. 
"But w'en Ah gat good big hot breakfis' behin' mah 
gaun, den Ah tol' you, dey gat for ta' careful if dey a'n't 
wan' me for hurt it." 
"Sho, Ann Twine! I cal'late," said Uncle Lisha in sen- 
tences interrupted by the labor of drawing on his boots, 
" 'at it's a dum foolish business— ugh! I got tu grease 
these 'ere boots — a fillin' up wi' good victuals — m-m-mugh ! 
They're stiff er'n sap troughs— afore a feller goes aout a- 
fightin' an' run the resk on't bein' wasted s'posin' he gits 
killed. Then again, s'posin' a feller hed turun, he'd stan' 
a better chance if he was light-loaded. There! you be on, 
an' ye don't come off ag'in till you're 'iled, if I hafter rub 
ye with a fat duck!" 
"Ah, One' Lasha, you a'n't know not'ing 'baout wsr," 
cried Antoine, lifting the potato kettle off the fire and 
emptying, the water from it. "Fetch de dauk in de coop, 
Sam. "We'll can't sit aour table in de rine," and he 
swung the kettle over Uncle Lisha's imperiled legs to a 
place inside the tent and Sam bestowed the sizzling fry- 
ing pan beside it. 
Peering under his glasses, Uncle Lisha forked a potato 
on to his plate as he snorted contemptuously, "Honh! do' 
know nothin' 'baout wars! Why, you poorig'n'ant infant, 
I was a sojerin' wi'in a mild o' here afore you was borned. 
Yes, sir, the Hawley place hain't a mild f 'm here, where 
we was posted, a-waitin' for the British,, an' abaout a mild 
furder is Fort Casin, where they come an' fit an' got licked 
tew. I'm a-goin' tu take Jozeff over there an' show it tu 
him some day. An' wa'n't I tu Plattsburgh? Sho, Ann 
Twine, your leetle Poppynew muss wa'n't the jab of a 
paigin' awl tu what we hed them times. Lord, if you 
c'ld ha' seen them ships arter they fit. The mas's an' sails 
an' riggin' all tore tu rags an' kin'lin' wood, an' the 
decks kivered wi' blood wus 'n a slotter haouse. An' the 
poor waounded critters, aour'n an' their'n. It wa'n't no 
putty sight tu look at. It made me praoud 'nough tu bust 
tu see the stars an' stripes a-flyin' over all them ships, but 
when I see them 'ere poor Britishers waounded an' dyin' 
fur from hum an' their women folks, it took all the spite 
agin 'em clean aouten on me." 
"You-t'ink prob'ly dey heat too much breakfis', a'n't it, 
One' Lasha? So he can' run." 
"I do' know haow 'twas wi' them, but we hedn't hed 
none tew much, I c'n tell ye," Uncle Lisha answered as 
he sawed laboriously on the thigh of a duck with a dull 
knife, and was reminded to remark, "I tell ye what it is, 
boys, it was a terrible good idee they useter hev when I 
was young, o' cuttin' up the' meat victuals intu maouth- 
fuls 'fore it was put ontu the table, an' then let ev'b'dy 
fork for hisself aouten one dish. It saved lots o' time an' 
rastlin' wi' tough meat when folks was in a hurry tu git 
aout tu the' work." 
"Ah'll a'n't want for chaup more as de meat for mahse'f , 
bah gosh," Antoine declared. 
"The' useter be some tol'lable lively hustlin' tusslin' for 
ch'ice pieces," the old man continued, reminiscently. 
"Father useter tell of a neighbor o' his'n 'at said haow 
he'd broke his child'en's temper wi' maple sugar. One 
mornin' father happened in of an arrant, when they was 
eatin' the' breakfas', all a-fishin' the fried meat aouten 
one dish, an' the ol' man hed got him the best and biggest 
maou'ful in the hul lot ontu his fork, when one o' the 
boys up an' flipped it off an' hed his fork into 't an' into 
his own maouth with 't quicker 'n scat. Father 'lowed 
the maple sugar hed worked fust rate. Wal, I b'lieve 
I've hed enough for oncte. Ann Twine, be you a goin' tu 
eat all day?" 
"Ah'll was been lis'lin' to you, One' Lasha," Antoine 
answered, settling himself to his work. "Naow Ah'll 
was goin' for heat. Dat was de bes' t'ing we can do w'en 
it was rine, 'cep' go feeshin'." 
"An' I cal'late tu stick right by ye, Anntwine," said 
Joseph from behind a duck's wing that he was gnawing, 
holding it with both hands. "I hain't the kind er man tu 
desart a friend in no sech scrape, don't seem 's 'ough I 
was, not as I feel naow." 
Uncle Lisha filled his pipe and went out to enjoy it by 
the fireside under shelter of his blue umbrella, and Sam, 
after providing a present supply of firewood with a few 
axestrokes, wandered out to the bluff overlooking the 
creek. 
Through the windows of the woods, mullioned with 
gray trunks and curtained with gay branches, there could 
be gained narrow glimpses of the nearer marsh, tinted 
with many blended colors and dotted with green islands 
of button bush; then the broad channel, leaden gray 
under the sunless sky and drizzling rain, the dull ex- 
panse broken here and there by ducks reveling apart or 
in companies, enjoying the weather that set all the rest 
of the world a-moping. 
Beyond was the further border of marsh and then the 
sheer wall of forest, making the horizon against the low 
sky that enveloped far mountains and nearer hills in 
common obscurity. 
The yellow poplars and the scarlet pepperidges shone 
through the veil of rain as if yesterday's sunshine was 
still held in them to brighten to-day's somber monotony 
of gray, 
Like outlooks on the lake ward side revealed only the 
dull expanse of gray water receding into the gray mist 
toward unseen shores, except where Garden Island 
loomed, blurred and undefined, between shrouded water 
and low sky, with one yellow-leafed birch flaring like a 
beacon half quenched on the western point, and off the 
eastern point a black rock, like a fast-anchored buoy. 
Further away, Long Point lay like a fallen cloud afloat 
on the water, moored to tin stable earth by nearer draw- 
ing shores of rock and sandy beach and the willow-clad 
bar of Little Otter. 
Here and there were dots and lines of swimming water- 
fowl on the unreflecting surface of the bay, and occasion- 
ally a flying flock faring out to safety of wide waters or 
in to the abundance of the marshes, dissolving in the 
mist or materializing out of it as they went or came. 
A scattered company of crows straggled in slow flight 
athwart the screen of rain and mist; a kingfisher hung in 
stationary poise against it, then plunged like a plummet 
into the water and far out on the shallows; a heron stood 
waiting in statuesque patience for breakfast to swim to 
him. 
Far or near there was no visible sign of human life, nor 
amid the continuous purr of the rain, the contented 
gabble of the ducks, the whistle of passing wings; the 
raucous call of some estray or laggard and the metallic 
clatter of the kingfisher, was there any sound of it except 
from the quarter where the Canadian boat was taking in 
its cargo. 
Thence through the heavy vaporous atmosphere came 
the lumbering of laden wagons, the rumble of their dis- 
charging freight and then the brisk rattle of departing 
empty wagons, all mingled with the shouts of teamsters 
and the vociferous jabber of captain and crew. 
For one who had no apparent reason for being inter- 
ested in fruit trade, Sam was uncommonly well pleased 
that the rainy day was not hindering it,and having assured 
himself of the fact he returned to camp. 
Uncle Lisha still sat by the fire, the staff of his umbrella 
resting across his shoulder while he diligently greased his 
boots with the tallow in the bottom of the lantern, the ac- 
cumulated drip of many candles, Joseph and Antoine 
looking on with interest from the tent door. 
"You don't want tu burn your boots, Uncle Lisher," said 
Sam, standing by the fire and letting the water from his 
hat brim drip into it. "There's more profit tu you in 
hevin' other folks burn up their'n. I do b'lieve I smell 
burnt luther." 
I guess they hain't gittin' tew hot," said Uncle Lisha, 
running his finger over the soles. "Makes me think o' 
the feller 'at went tu a neighbor's a-visitin' wi' a pair o' 
bran' new boots on, which for all he spread 'em aout on 
the stove ha'th, an' stuck 'em top o' chairs, the' wouldn't 
nob'dy rfotice 'em, an' so when he see they wa'n't a-goin' 
tu say nothin' abaout 'em, he up an' says, says he 'Ye 
needn't think strange if ye smell new luther.' Wal, Sam- 
will, what ye diskivered?" 
"Nothin' but water an' ma'sh an' woods, lookin' lun- 
somer'n they did a hundred year ago, fer there hain't even 
an Injin in sight. I heard the Frenchman lwudln' his 
boat though." 
"Wal," sighed Antoine, "Ah wish Ah'll was be apples, 
me, so he was bought me an' took it to Canada. But so 
as Ah can' do dat, Ah guess Ah'll do nex'bes' an' go feesh 
some bull pawt. You'll goin' 'long to me, Zhozeff? We 
go on de scaow, an' took some funs," 
Joseph looked out upon the dismal drizzle with a rueful 
countenance and answered, "Wal, I don't sca'celyseem tu 
feel like goin' not ezackly. It's kinder oncomf'table an' 
sorter exposin' a-fishin' in the rain an' I'm mortal afeared 
o' ketchin' a eel. I like tu eat 'em, but I swan I don't 
lufter ketch 'em." 
"O, come Zhozeff," Antoine urged in a persuasive tone. 
"If you a'n't want for ketch it, Ah'll ketch it, an' you can 
ketch de udder leetly feller. Come, Zbozeff." 
"Well, I ruther guess I won't, I'm 'bleeged tu ye," and 
Joseph settled himself more comfortably in his seat. "I 
don't 'pear tu hanker much fer fishin' tu-day. Mebby 
Uncle Lisher'il go, er Samwil, mebby." 
But Sam shook his head in decided negative, and Uncle 
Lisha audibly declined, "Good airth an' seas! You don't 
ketch me goin' fishin' fer sech fish in sech weather, I 
hain't a loon er a shell duck." 
"Den, bah gosh, all Ah'll ketch Ah'll heat all," Antoine 
declared and went out to grub for worms in the adjacent 
pasture. After a while he returned from a successful 
quest, and getting a hook and line from among his stares 
he cut a cedar pole and set forth. Presently his camp 
mates heard the creak and splash of his departing oars, 
then a hollow clank as they were dropped in board and 
the rattle of the chain being wound about the nearest 
fishing stake, and then they imagined that they heard the 
whistle of his line and the spring of his heavy sinker as 
he made the first vigorous cast. Two hours later he ap- 
peared, dripping but happy, bringing a number of dressed 
bull pouts which, fried to a turn, he did not devour alone 
as he had threatened, but shared with his companions. 
The afternoon was spent in the tent. Uncle Lisha dis- 
coursed of the past and Antoine of various men in Canada 
who were always the heroes of his tales, while in the 
breaks of conversation Sam several times went out for 
the ostensible purpose of a general inspection of the 
weather, though the examination was mostly confined to 
the direction of Lewis Creek. 
Late in the afternoon the wind freshened from the 
northeast, the tossed branches dropped sudden showers 
upon the canvas with a startling, ripping sound, and amid 
the sullen murmur of the wind-swept woods and the 
louder patter of the driven rain could be heard the regu- 
lar wash of the rising waves and the shrill whistle of fre- 
quent flocks scudding in from the lake. 
Then Sam saw the Canada boat gliding down the un- 
seen channel, the great square sail stalking between the 
trees like a gigantic ghost, till at last it walked forth upon 
the vexed lake amid the taller phantoms of mist and van- 
ished in the thronging host. 
Sam re-entered the tent with a satisfied visage and re- 
marked: 
"Wal, that 'ere Frenchman's got started fer Canerdy 
with his apples." 
"An' like 'nough a blackbary," Uncle Lisha added, with 
a significant twinkle in his eye. 
Rowland E. Robinson. 
Fitchbtjrg, Mass.— Editor Forest and Stream: Our paper grows 
batter and better every year. It has got so now that we must have it 
I inclose a little "game hunting incident." Wish you all a prosperous 
and happy New Year. Irving O. Converse. 
WITH A SURVEYING PARTY IN THE 
INDIAN TERRITORY. 
BY FRANK WINCHESTER, ONE OP ITS QUESTS. 
Part III. 
The day following our introduction to "possum and 
sweet 'taters" was, in the morning, one of the most un- 
pleasant days we experienced during this trip. We were 
greeted by a cold, high wind from the northwest accom- 
panied by a heavy rainfall, confining the members of the 
party to their tents, where we whiled away the forenoon 
in various occupations. The Judge, Cap, John, the assist- 
ant engineer and I engaged in the old but ever good game 
of "seven-up" or "old sledge," the stake being that the 
side losing a jack from capture by opponents must lay 
pipes down and quit smoking until the other side lost, 
when that side ceased smoking. I do not recall more fun 
connected with any game than we had during that 
dismal forenoon; and from our tent the contagion spread 
to the other tents, as we could hear the peals of laughter 
accompanying the commands, "Lay down your brier- 
roots and enjoy our smoke." 
After dinner King and I tried to make up a hunting 
party, but the Judge and Cap declining, he and I accom- 
panied by Carlo the spaniel started out, clad in "slickers" 
and long-legged rubber boots, as he said, "Just to take a 
tramp to keep our bones from getting stiff," and went 
down through the park land, across a burned part of the 
bottom land, to the heavy timber along and adjacent to 
the river. As we entered the tall grass in the timber I 
was surprised at the harmony between our "slickers" — as 
yellow oilskin waterproof coats are called in the West — 
and the wet leaves and grass at that season of the year, 
as they shone with their raindrops, and I called King's 
attention to it, but his short reply was, "Yes, I knowed 
it; no trouble to get up to game if we work right." 
We had walked but a short distance, with King lead- 
ing armed with hiB rifle, I with my 10-gauge, when he 
stepped into a game path, and pointing to a fresh deer 
track, said, "Your gun no good for deer, I will go and 
kill it." But I was determined, if an opportunity pre- 
sented, to make that despiser of the 10-gauge change his 
contempt to admiration, so I withdrew my No. 1 turkey 
shot cartridges and loaded the gun with brass shells, 
whose load was 5drs. Hazard powder and Hoz. 000 shot, 
and kept close to him. 
We had gone not over an eighth of a mile when King 
pointed to a large fallen tree top, and by a shake of his 
head gave me to understand that we would find our game 
in it. When about 50yds. from the top he stopped, and 
taking a quick aim fired his Winchester. As he fired I 
stepped up by his side, just in time to see a deer spring 
toward his path, and with a quick shot I sent it rolling 
into the path, with both forelegs broken close to the 
shoulder, and in a moment King had cut his throat, when 
I saw that it was a buck with a proud head of eight 
points to each horn. As I saw my trophy I shouted, 
"How's that for a scatter gun?" and turned just in time 
to see King cutting the throat of another deer lying in 
among the branches of the fallen tree top. Turning 
slowly toward me, he replied, "I got one deer, you got 
one," and he then dragged his, a small doe, to the side of 
my very large buck, and looking at them, said, "Scatter 
gun good gun, when good man shoot him quick," which 
admission was to me the highest compliment for my 
10-gauge and my skill in handling it. 
When I proposed to return to camp for horses to take 
the game into camp, King said, "No, hang them up; 
more fun for scatter gun before we go back." Bending 
over two young trees and fastening a deer to the top of 
each, after the deer was disemboweled, each tree rose 
high enough to carry our game out of the reach of all 
forest prowlers of the "varmint kind," as he said, and he 
then led through the grass to the bank of the river, which 
we reached at a point where it made an abrupt bend 
from a course nearly north and south to one east and 
west; or, to make my meaning plain to all, the river, 
which had been flowing nearly directly south, changed 
its course to flow in an easterly direction, and at the bend 
a "towhead" — as a small island covered by grass and 
short willows is termed — was nearly connected to our 
bank by a sand bar, making a protected pond of shallow 
water from the bank to the towhead, and it was covered 
with countless numbers of wild ducks when we looked 
through the grass along the bank. A shot from King's 
rifle at the ducks on the water, and with both barrels of 
the shotgun on the wing, dropped seven dead ducks, 
which Carlo soon brought to us as we reached the lower 
end of the towhead, where they were fastened with a 
pointed stick in the throat for ^decoys at a short distance 
from the shore of the island, and as we secreted ourselves 
in the grass, King said, "If you shoot as good at duck as 
at deer we get some duck," pointing to the flocks coming 
toward us. Never at any other time of my life have I 
seen ducks so plentiful and so fearless, as they would 
swoop down over the dead ones used for decoys, paying 
no attention whatever to Carlo retrieving dead ones, and 
never did I have such luck in duck shooting as I had that 
afternoon. 
When I had fired all my No. 4 shot away and 
said so, King said, "Got enough; help dog get dead ones," 
and we soon had them piled upon the bank. And what 
a glorious pile they made, all large ducks, mostly mal- 
lards and redheads, with a few widgeons, canvasbacks 
and bald-pates, a grand total number which I will not 
give or sportsmen might term that afternoon's work pot- 
hunting; but after King had arranged two packs by 
tying the necks together, we each had a good load to 
carry to camp. 
As we were crossing the sand bar to the bank King 
pointed to another sand bar about a half mile up the river 
covered with wild geese, and upon which we could see 
flock after flock alight, and said, "We'll go fix it so you 
and Judge get plenty goose shooting." Marching along 
the bank until we were opposite the island, we dropped 
our packs and guns and waded over to the sand bar, 
where he spread his slicker out on the sand and said, 
"Put yours down too; goose get used to him; you and 
Judge get under slickers and shoot lots of geese." Placing 
my slicker a short distance from his we waded back to 
the bank and watched the wary geese circling over the 
sand bar for a few moments and then we proceeded to 
camp. The rain having stopped about the time my duck 
shooting ceased, we did not miss the slickers on our 
march. We reached camp about 4 o'clock, when King 
and one of the teamsters took a team and went down and 
