270 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 4, 1896. 
UNCLE LISHA'S OUTING.-XVII, 
A Crusoe of the Marshes. 
Joseph Hill stretched his cramped limbs with a sense 
of great relief to both body and mind while he watched 
the scow pass out of sight around the next bend, and 
caught the last glimpse of Uncle Lisha's hat rising and 
falling with slow regularity behind the tops of the marsh 
growth. The clank and splash of the oars faded out of 
hearing, and as far as he could see or hear he was the sole 
human occupant of the marshes. 
Now and then a duck could be heard quacking a lazy 
call to comrades or uttering a startled note of alarm, and 
occasionally the quick, pulsing whistle of passing wings, 
and far away on the lake the wild cry of a loon, and high 
overhead the petulant scream of a hawk, Close at hand 
there was an infrequent rustle and splash of some invis- 
ible inhabitant of the marshes, but Joseph listened in- 
tently before he could catch the faintest sound of human 
life, such as the rumble of a distant wagon or ox-cart, or 
the mellowed shout of the teamster coming to him as 
if from a different world from that which held his indo- 
lent environment. He was quite contented with the iso- 
lation and the quietude as he sat at ease on the soft but 
stable roof smoking his pipe and patiently waiting for 
something to come and be killed. 
Presently a huge pickerel appeared like an apparition in 
the dooryard of the muskrat, his cruel eyes and mottled 
sides shining with a magnified gleam through the clear, 
still water that barely covered his dorsal fin. Joseph had 
a mountaineer's admiration for this species, and deemed 
such a specimen a worthy trophy. His heart almost stood 
still as he realized the opportunity for securing such a 
noble prize. He made a cautious movement to bring his 
gun to bear upon it, but the wary fish detected it and 
dashed away with a sudden surge that tore the smooth 
surface into boiling eddies. Joseph dodged as if a blow 
had been struck him and gasped his disappointment. 
"Gosh darn the luck! Wa'n't he a wolloper, though! 
Wal, the' hain't no feathers on him, anyway!" 
Comforting himself with this qualified consolation he 
set to patient waiting again, with some hope that his 
recent \isitor might return. The last ripple subsided and 
the schools of minnows, recovered from their fright, began 
to dart back into the restored quiet of the pool, when its 
surface was moved by the sluggish undulation of an 
under wake, then silently broken as a muskrat's head ap- 
peared, regarding the strange occupant of its abode with 
a grim curiosity that would have been alarming if ex- 
hibited by a larger animal. The creature remained quite 
motionless, while Joseph with the utmost caution raised 
his gun to a deadly aim, and at such short range that it 
occurred to him, as his finger tightened on the trigger, 
that the furry skin would be riddled into worthlessness 
and he had no desire for wanton destruction. 
"I shall blow ye all tu flinders, I know I shall," he 
whispered to himself as his finger relaxed. His left foot 
was drawn well under him, his arm resting across his bent 
knee and supporting the long gun barrel. "If he'd swim 
off jes' a leetle mite furder," he soliloquized as he looked 
straight into the fierce deep-set little eyes, "it seems jes' 
's 'ough I might." 
Suddenly his heel slipped down the sloping wall, the 
gun barrel as suddenly descended and the muskrat dived 
with a splash like the plunge of a 101b. shot. It is said 
that the scream of a panther and the plunge of a muskrat 
will startle the steadiest and most accustomed nerves as 
often as heard or seen, and Joseph jumped as if he had 
suffered the double shock. 
"Gosh, all Connecticut!" he ejaculated, gasping as if he 
himself had been plunged in the cold water. "Why 
don't ye scare a feller aouten his boots! I snum, I most 
wish I'd ha' let ye hev, an' spottered ye all over the 
ma'sh, seems 's 'ough I did, a'most." 
Gradually he recovered his equanimity and now gave 
his attention to feathered game; but though he lay close 
on the back side of the house, hoping that some passing 
flock or single bird might chance to alight in the channel 
within gunshot, all sueh espied him and veered off with 
swifter flight or climbed higher above him, giving his 
poor ambuscade a wide berth. Only once a flock of teal, 
following the channel in low flight as if it was a path, 
flashed past him, slanting lower with set wings to alight, 
but dropped out of sight beyond the next bend before he 
heard the fluttering splash that told of their descent. 
After a while they reappeared, swimming down stream in 
a devious way, circling, ducking, diving and nibbling the 
water, till at last they started with a sudden impulse 
directly toward him. His gun was leveled upon them, 
the muzzle gradually lowering as they drew nearer and 
shaken by the tumultuous beating of his heart. Now they 
were almost within certain range, and his finger began to 
press the hard trigger and his teeth were set in expecta- 
tion of the inevitable recoil, when all at once they became 
suspicious of the singular appearance of an old felt hat 
showing above the top of a muskrat house, and with 
one accord sprang to flight and vanished like wind-blown 
smoke. 
"Wal, it does beat Sam Hill what tarnal luck I du hev 
right stret along this hul endurin' day! But them wa'n't 
nothin' but leetle pindlin' teal. I b'lieve the' wa'n't; not 
much meat on 'em, an' the feathers mere nothin'! But I 
swan, I wish I'd ha' got 'em!" 
Half an hour passed, and he was drowsy with lying in 
the warm sunshine, when he was aroused by a stir of the 
rushes close by the nearest muskrat house, and then saw 
a large dusky gray duck swim out of the weeds and climb 
boldly and deliberately to its top. The slow upward 
movement of Joseph's gun was arrested by the thought 
that this could not be a wild duck, and he congratulated 
himself that he had not obeyed his first impulse. 
"It's a dumb putty idee, folks a-lettin' the' poultry run 
loose, hither an' yon, an' then make folks pay for 'em 
when they git shot accidental." Then Joseph addressed 
the duck aloud: "Do ye know 'at you come alrnightv nieh 
a-gittin' shot, you ol' fool?" 3 & 
The bird stood bolt upright and stretched its neck to the 
utmost, and Joseph clambering to the top of the house 
swung his hat and shouted lustily: 
"G'long home, you ol' fool, 'fore someb'dy shoots ve 1 
Shew!" 
The duck squatted and sprang into the air with rapid 
wing-beats, uttering discordant quacks of terror, and 
shrank to a wavering speck in the distance, while Joseph 
gaped at the vanishing form in blank and speechless 
amazement. 
"The very ol' scratch is in everything!" he said at last, 
and sat down, laying his gun aside as if he had no further 
use for it. "Dumbed if I try tu shoot anything, an' I 
wish't Uncle Lisher 'd come along back." 
He took his luncheon from his pocket and ate it slowly, 
more to pass away the time than to appease hunger. The 
droughtiness of the repast was aggravated by the 
abundance of unpalatable water that surrounded him, 
clear and bright to the eye, but saturated with rank- 
flavored weeds and nauseous to a mountaineer's palate 
accustomed to draughts from ice-cold springs. The chan- 
nel was ruffled by the light northerly breeze, and as he 
watched the swift ripples continually flickering past it 
seemed as if he on the artificial islet was being carried as 
rapidly in the opposite direction by the current. At times 
slight tremors were imparted to the house by some violent 
movement of its inmates, and this added to the impression 
of its instability till Joseph's head swam, and he could 
not convince himself that he was not afloat, though his 
relative position to surrounding objects remained un- 
changed. 
"I don't see why in Sam Hill Uncle Lisher don't come 
along! Wonder 'f he's hired his board up there? I know 
this 'ere haouse hain't floatin' off, but it seems jes' 's 
'ough it was, an' I do' know but what them tormented 
muBhrats is undermindin' on't, an' '11 let me daown ker- 
swash fust I know! Shew! Ye plaguey leetle torments, 
scat!" he shouted as he pounded the side of the house with 
fists and heels. 
So passed an hour of discomfort and apprehension, re- 
lieved at last by the welcome sound of an approaching 
boat, which he doubted not was the long expected craft of 
Uncle Lisha. But when with provoking slowness it ap- 
peared around the bend, he saw an unfamiliar figure 
stooping and rising to the deliberate strokes of the oars, 
that, though wielded with the skill of an experienced oars- 
man, shrieked and clanked in doleful discord in their un- 
lubricated swivels. Two short fishpoles protruded from 
either side and the fisherman, who wore a black felt hat 
and a red-backed waistcoat, now and then ceased rowing 
to overhaul his lines, and once to boat a big pickerel that 
Joseph could hear threshing the boat's bottom to the 
accompaniment of the shrieking swivels when their music 
was resumed. 
Joseph had an impression that he had seen the ancient 
• hat and red-backed waistcoat before, and when the 
boat passed him and its occupant's profile was revealed, 
he recognized the stolid features of Uncle Tyler, with 
whom he had had a brief acquaintance during a previous 
voyage on these waters. Remembering the old man's 
deafness he hailed him lustily, but the unconscious face 
gave no sign and the regular rise and fall of the oars was 
uninterrupted. Joseph drew in a great double lung full 
of air and let it out in a hail that would have done credit 
to Uncle Lisha himself; but if the old fisherman heard it, 
he mistook the direction from which it came, for he 
turned his head the other way. 
"Hello there!" Joseph repeated, "come he-ere! Help! 
murder! fi-er." 
But Uncle Tyler did not become aware of him till he 
had rowed quite past, and saw him prancing about on the 
narrow footing of the muskrat house and frantically 
swinging his hat. 
"Was you a-speakin' tu me?" he bawled in an unmodu- 
lated tone as he ceased rowing. "What ye want? What 
ye duin' on top o' that 'ere mushrat haouse? Where's 
your bwut?" 
"Hain't got no boat! Come back here an' git me!" 
"No, I hain't got no terbarker. Sent up tu the store by 
a feller tu git me some last night, but he forgot it. Smoked 
my last pipeful a-comin' long daown." 
' 'Gol dumb it, come back here an' take me int' your 
boat!" Joseph howled till his voice cracked. "I'll give ye 
all the terbarker I've got," and he beckoned with his hat, 
reinforcing the signal by waving a blue paper of Loril- 
lard's long cut. This had the' desired effect upon the old 
man's comprehension, and after carefully winding in his. 
trolling lines, he put about and ran in to Joseph, who 
crept eagerly but cautiously on board the scow. 
"Git int' the starn there!" Uncle Tyler commanded. 
"Intf the what?" Joseph asked at the top of his voice. 
"Int' the starn! the starn!" Uncle Tyler repeated as 
loudly, indicating the direction with all the fingers of one 
hand. 
"Starn?" Joseph repeated, still unenlightened, as he 
crouched on hands and knees beside the ancient mariner 
and shouted in his ear, while he scanned the after part of 
the scow with a puzzled face. "I don't seem tu see noth- 
in'. Guess you forgot tu fetch it, didn't ye?" 
"Good land o' massy! You do' know no more 'baout a 
bwut 'an a hen!" Uncle Tyler declared in disgust. "Go 
an' set daown in that 'ere seat. That 'ere's the starn an' 
t'other eend's the bow, an' this 'ere's 'midships. There, sed 
daown an' gin me that terbarker." 
Joseph obeyed the last command first and crept to his 
designated place, steadying himself with a hand on either 
gunwale as he picked careful footsteps among seven or 
eight large pickerel that lay dead or at the last gasp on 
the slippery floor. These he had time to admire while 
Uncle Tyler leisurely filled and lighted his pipe, remarking, 
as he did so: 
"I sent up tu the store for some terbarker las' night by 
a feller, but he forgot it." 
"You are some nigher gittin' on 't 'an you was four, 
five year ago," said Joseph. "If you don't disremember 
you forgot tu send for it then. I shouldn't wonder but 
what like 'nough you'd git ye some in four,five year more," 
But the old man chose not to hear hear him till he asked 
in no louder voice, "Why didn't ye stop the boat when I 
hollered fust?" 
"Did ye holler afore? Wal, naow, I hear'd suthin', but 
I reckoned 't wasn't nothin' but Larkin's bull a-bellerin'. 
I wa'n't a-lookin' for nobody rwustin' on a mushrat 
haousen. Haow come ye here anyway?" 
"I got left here," Joseph shouted. 
"Deaf in yer left ear? Can't ye hear me? Turrible dis- 
agreeable tu be deaf , I s'pose, most eVybody speaks so low 
naow-er-days. I ast ye haow ye come here — on this 
mushrat haouse? Onderstand?" 
"Come in a boat! Got on here tu shoot ducks!" 
"Ooh, tu shoot ducks," said Uncle Tyler, backing his 
scow into the channel. "Yes, yes, 'Bpected tu find ducks 
in a muskrat haouse! Wal, wal, that's a cur'us idee." 
The old man gave way to an expression of mirth which 
was like the laughter of a ghost, being without sound. 
Having got his boat and his pipe well a-going, Uncle 
Tyler was enabled to observe his passenger more closely, 
when a gleam of recognition lighted up his stolid face. 
"Good land o' massy!" he mumbled, trying to speak 
with the pipe wabbling between his gums and then let- 
ting the oars trail that he might remove it for freer 
speech. "I b'lieve I've seen you afore! Wa'n't you daown 
here afore, last year or year afore, or some'er's along 
there, you an' another feller 'at didn't know no more'n 
you du 'baout a bwut, gi'n me a polt top o' the head wi' 
an oar, hain't you one on 'em?" He took off his hat and 
searched for the exact spot on his bald pate as if to estab- 
lish evidence or refresh his memory. 
"Yes, I b'lieve I was one o' the ones," said Joseph, and 
proceeded to give a loud and brief account of himself and 
friends, to which the old man, as he plied the oars, lis- 
tened as well as he could with his pipe preventing the 
opening of his mouth, which he apparently depended 
upon as much as his ears as an organ of hearing. When 
Joseph concluded with the relation of his latest adventure 
his auditor fell into another silently boisterous laughter, 
which brought on a violent fit of coughing, and after 
that he recovered speech. 
"O, good land o' massy! You must be sick for tu think 
ducks 'ould come tu ye settin' right in plain sight. Wal, 
wal, you must be sick! I'll tell ye haow tu shoot ducks if 
ye won't tell nobody. You jest take an' shove a slab way 
aout int' the aidge o' the ma'sh an' sprinkle a mess o' oata 
onto 't, an' you fix ye up a bough haouse so 't you can rake 
it eend ways, an' bimeby when the ducks diskiver the bait 
and git wonted they'll come there reg'lar to feed, an' then 
you lay low fer 'em airly in the mornin'. Mebby you'll 
ketch a hull slabful on 'em a feedin' tu oncte an' then, sir, 
you c'n rip up the hull magazine. That's the way tu shoot 
ducks! You c'n git 'em that way I Any lunkhead can! 
Naow you take an' let aout one o' them trollin' fines an' 
ketch a pickerel. You do' know 's you can? Wal, any 
dumb fool can heng a holt of a pole an' yarn in a fish ar- 
ter he's ketched hisself . I guess you can, an' you'd orter 
git a good one a-goin' by theSaouth Slang." 
Joseph was diffident, but otherwise not loath to accept 
a chance of redeeming his ill luck, and awkwardly paid 
out one of the clumsy lines while his skilled companion 
handily got the other to its work, though his attention 
was also given to keeping the boat moving in its proper 
course, his pipe in blast and a critical oversight of Joseph's 
management of the tacJde. 
"I do' know ezackly," the latter shouted, bringing his 
mouth to bear on the other, after some intent moments of 
watching his line, "but it most seems 'a 'ough I druther 
ketch a whoppin' big pickerel 'an tu shoot a duck, seems 
's 'ough I druther, tu-day." 
"Wal, like 'nough you'll git you're druther," Uncle 
Tyler responded, and sure enough when his lure was trail- 
ing past the mouth of the South Slang it was arrested by 
a sullen, vicious pull that made the stout pole bend like a 
drawn bow and brought Joseph's heart into his throat at 
one leap. Remembering the lesson of a former year, he 
drew the top of the pole forward till he could lay hold 
of the line and then hauled it in band over hand. Then 
amid a conflict of hopes and fears he saw a monster pick- 
erel coming toward the boat with jaws as wide open as if 
he had an intention of swallowing it and the crew. Good 
fortune and a stout line and hook combined to favor Jo- 
seph in getting the fish on board in spite of flustered 
awkwardness, and he was fairly faint with pride and 
thankfulness when he saw his prize at his feet threshing 
the bottom of the boat and snapping the wide jaws, 
toothed as cruelly as a wolf trap. In the midst of his ex- 
citement he did not notice that Uncle Tyler had quit row- 
ing and was calmly hauling in his own strained line till, 
with an easy motion, the old man lifted a fish as big as 
his own into the boat, remarking as he did so, 
"That's the way tu ketch a pickerel!" 
Thence to the landing at the willows the voyage was 
occasionally enlivened by the capture of a fish, and arriv- 
ing there, Joseph offered the hospitalities of the camp to 
his rescuer, unlimited tobacco and such victuals as the 
place afforded in the absence of the cook. 
In consideration of their mutual obligations, they be- 
came very friendly and conversed so constantly and 
loudly that the arrival of Uncle Lisha's boat was unheard, 
as was his no less noisy ascent of the path, slipping, 
stumbling and puffing asthmatically. 
"Good airth an' seas! Be you here, Joseff? I snum, I 
never was tickleder tu see a man in this livin' airth. Why 
in time didn't ye stay where you was till I come? What 
d' ye wanter git on there for anyway?" 
With alternate expressions of mirth, vexation and re- 
joicing over his safe return, he listened to Joseph's rela- 
tion of the adventures of his exile, which Joseph ended 
with a solemn declaration that he would never again 
under any circumstances embark in any craft smaller than 
a canal boat, no matter how he might be tempted by fish 
or fowl, Rowland E. Robinson. 
'A Looted Audubon." 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I see in this week's number of Forest and Stream some 
correspondence about "Audubon's Birds of America," 
taken from a house on the line of Sherman's march. 
If there is to be any restoration of property "appropri- 
ated" during the war, the writer would like to come in 
for his share. He can furnish a list of some 350 volumes and 
about fifty other articles of household use and adornment | 
that were taken from his house at New Berne, N. C, after 
that city was captured by Gen. Burnside, and sent to 
their homes by the officers occupying the house, although 
previous to such taking the colonel commanding was in- 
formed that the property belonged to a loyal clergyman 
who had been forced to abandon it and go North on ac- 
count of his loyalty to the United States Government, and 
the colonel promised to protect it. 
The writer can give the number of the Massachusetts 
regiment and the names of the officers who occupied the 
house when the hooks and articles were taken. Gen. , 
Burnside promised to pay for them — and stop the amount 
out of the officers' pay on the next pay-day; but before 
that day came the regiment had been sent to reinforce | 
Gen. McClellan at the time of his "change of base," and 
when that movement was completed the officers of the 
regiment were entirely changed, and could not justly 
be made to pay for the sins of their predecessors, and 
therefore the writer was not reimbursed. Walton. 
