May 2, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
861 
only about 30yds. away, and I could see every motion. 
She was "fighting mad," and didn't care who knew it. 
She had not yet seen me, but heard the noise of the ap- 
proaching herder, who had resumed his way after my shot. 
She crouched for a charge and I immediately fired, but I 
undershot, cutting one of her hindfeet almost off. She 
at once made for me like a fiend unchained, and I pumped 
two shots at her without effect. The last one, however, 
checked her as she was almost upon me; the powder must 
have burnt her. This gave me a chance and I shattered 
her brain with a third. 
I confess that I was somewhat rattled, for the attack 
was wholly unexpected. I had never heard of the like 
before; in fact "didn't know she was loaded!" 
This was getting decidedly interesting! What was to 
come next? 
Well, I wasn't long finding out! As I stepped to the 
sapling where the deer hung, I almost fell over myself at 
the sudden br-r-r-r-r that oame from almost under my 
feet. J 
If there is anything on earth that "rattles" me it is a 
rattlesnake, and no pun intended, either. It always 
makes me fighting mad too. 
I circled slowly around the big wild currant bush in 
which the snake was hidden, getting closer and closer all 
the time. At last I began pushing aside the branches 
with the muzzle of the rifle, when like a streak of light 
he struck at me, but fell short. By that time I was as an- 
gry as he was and began pumping lead into the bush as 
fast as I could, until the empty click of the hammer de- 
noted an exhausted magazine. I stopped to crowd in 
more cartridges, but the creaking rattle had ceased. I 
had struck him just below the head with one of the bul- 
lets, and he lay writhing in a sordid looking heap under 
the mutilated currant bush. He had eleven rattles, all 
perfect, and beautifully tapered — as fine a specimen as 
one could look upon. 
This ended my shooting for the day. We loaded the 
buck, returned to where the first one of the morning's 
work hung and loaded that also, the herder coming back 
later on for the large buck. 
On our arrival at camp we found Turk and Skip, but 
Will had not got in. It was near noon, so I cleaned my 
rifle while the herder skinned the deer. We prepared 
dinner, and the Yorkshireman coming in at noon, we sat 
down to it with good appetites. 
After our meal the herders departed, one to look after 
the straying flocks, the other after the big buck, and I de- 
parted — to "the land of nod." 
About 4 o'clock Will and the herder returned with two 
deer upon the horse; Will having run across the man and 
taken him to where he had one hanging up, that he had 
Bhot in a side ravine on his way home to camp. This 
was great luck indeed! We both felt highly elated, even 
if we had got no bear. 
But now for Will's story. Preliminary to telling it he 
took a piece of a fresh bone out of his pocket and asked 
me what I thought it was, It was very hard and dense 
in structure, and smooth as ivory externally. The frag- 
ment was a scale about 2in. long and nearly lin. wide. I 
Baid I thought it was a piece out of the thighbone of a 
large animal. 
He said it was "out of the leg of a bear" — exact locality 
not determined. 
Said he: "When I first started out I looked all around 
where the bear was when you shot at him, and just back 
of the log I found blood and this bit of bone. It was easy 
tracking him, for he cut a wide swath down the moun- 
tain when he first started out, leaving blood at every step. 
In two places I found where he had stopped, as I thought, 
to fight the dogs. Wherever he had stopped he had bit- 
ten and torn the surrounding brush, being evidently in 
a terrible rage. He had no use of one of his hindlegs, as 
I could find but three footprints anywhere. In some 
places I could see where the other foot dragged through 
the sand, and I always found the blood on that side of 
the track. Finally the blood got lesser and lesser in 
quantity until it ceased entirely, but I still followed the 
trail, hoping I would find him up a tree, or corralled in 
some cane by the dogs. I trailed him for about five 
miles, and finally lost him in a dense thicket of willows 
which covered several acres. Here he walked on the re- 
cumbent trunks of the willows, and left no trail. I 
had never heard or seen anything of the dogs all this 
time, so gave it up and started for camp. On my way 
back I started the buck I shot, and got him the first try. 
But it is too bad that we lost the bear, for he was a 
. big one!" was the emphatic way in which Will ended his 
story. 
"Ve'll get von to-night yet!" was the commentary of 
Dutchy. "Ve vill again dot drap set, undt bait it mit a 
shoulder of muddon, undt cotch von of dems, sure!" 
According to his suggestion we reset the trap, and also 
set a spring gun in another place. 
That night the herders placed the sheep a little distance 
from the camp, so that the thunder of their hoofs when 
disturbed, their coughing, sneezing and jangling of bells 
! would not keep us awake, and after supper and a smoke 
we went to bed with anticipations and slept undisturbed 
till morning. Not a bear came within a mile of camp, as 
far as we could judge, the sheep having rested without a 
movement all night. 
And so we got cheated out of our bear after all. Since 
that time I have been going back after those bears— in 
my mind— every returning season, but have never got 
there yet, and, entre nous, I fear I never will. 
Our hunt was over, so leaving one of the bucks for the 
use of our kind entertainers, we took the others upon a 
couple of pack horses, and with Dutchy to drive them, 
started for home. 
That afternoon my friend arrived upon the stage, and 
the next day the really serious work of our outing — trout 
fishing — commenced. Abefab. 
In the Indian Strip. 
Loco, I. T., April 21.— Game of all kinds is more plenti- 
ful than it has been for three years. The quail have 
wintered finely and are now nesting every wnere; they 
are numerous, notwithstanding the netters and market- 
shooters have both been with us all along and many birds 
have gone "over the road." I do wish the market-hunters 
and netters could be sent "over the road." There are 
many curlews, etc., and the hoo-Jioo, hoo-hoo, of the 
prairie fowl can be heard every still morning. There is 
more small bird life here than I ever knew anywhere; 
one can scarcely hear of mornings for their noise. 
L. D. W. 
UNCLE LISHA'S OUTING.-XX. 
An Inland Exploration. 
Of the remaining inmates of the tent Uncle Lisha was 
the first to arise, for after three-score years of partial dis- 
proof he was still a believer in the maxim that inculcates 
the benefits of early rising. He lighted the fire and made 
a trip to the waterside, returning therefrom in the glow 
of recent ablution and the exertion of lugging a pail of 
water up the steep path before his companions came 
stumbling forth, yawning and blinking in the secondary 
stage of reviving consciousness. 
"Bah gosh! One' Lasha, Ah guess you'll was try for 
ketch nudder waum dis morny, a'n't it, hein?" Antoine 
asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand and searching his 
pockets for his pipe with the other. 
"If you an' the worm ever meets, he'll haftu du the 
s'archin'. Come, Ann Twine, le's git us suthin' t' eat, 
time 'nough tu call it breakfus stid o' dinner. You an' 
Jozeff go an' wash ye whilst I git the taters on. What is't 
this mornin', duck or fish?" 
"Feesh was de quickes', 'cause he all ready for jomp on 
de pan." 
"An' best, seem's 'ough, arter duck so contin'al?" said 
Joseph. "I'm kinder thinkin' ducks wouldn't be much 
'caount if 't wa'n't for the feathers, that is for a Btiddy 
thing. But I du lufter shoot 'em though." 
"I should like tu know haow you know you du," said 
Uncle Lisha, counting out the potatoes from the sack. 
"Three for Ann Twine — come, hyper, an' when you git 
back I'll tell ye what we'll du tu-day — tew for Jozeff, an' 
one for me." 
In due time the fish was fried, the potatoes boiled, the 
tea brewed, and the little company gathered around the 
stone table. 
"What I was a cal'latin' was," Uncle Lisha began, and 
then deferred speech while he cooled the tea in his tin cup 
with a gusty blast accompanied by a vigorous shake, " 'at 
we'd take a rantomscoot over west tu where we was sta- 
tioned time o' the war. I kinder want tu see the place 
ag'tn, an' it 'ould be interestin' tu you an' Ann Twine, an' 
we c'n take aour guns along an' mebby shoot suthin' 
'nother, an' a bag, an' pick up some wa'nuts, which they'd 
be a proper good treat tu the folks up hum. What d' ye 
say to it — 'mongst ye?" 
"Ah'll a'n't want for go feeshin's, an' Ah'll a'n't want 
for go hunt on de crik, an' Ah'll willin' for go loafer 'long . 
to you, One' Lasha." 
"Most anything '11 suit me," said Joseph, "if it hain't 
goin' in a boat, which it don't seem as 'ough I would du 
under no circumstances exceptin' in the case of a reg'lar 
ol' Noer flood, an' then I b'lieve I'd climb the last tree 
'fore I'd trust myself tu any tarnal boat, he or she, small- 
er'n the ark or a steamboat, which I do' know nothin' 
'baout, or leastways a canawl boat, 'at I hey ventured 
ontu." 
So, being of one mind, when breakfast was eaten and 
the act by courtesy called dishwashing had been per- 
formed, they set forth westward across the fields and by 
the woodsxde, whore ferns and asters invaded the grass 
land and the timothy and clover crept into the shadow of 
the woods. As, advancing abreast, they climbed a knoll 
and their heads arose above its crest, Antoine's quick eye 
caught sight of a gray squirrel running from the woods 
to an outlying hickory. 
"S-s-h!" Antoine whispered, "go softie till he gat on de 
tree, den we supprise him an' kill it." 
These tactics were successfully carried out as far as the 
surprise, but the beleaguered squirrel hid so closely 
among the topmost leaves that the besiegers were unable 
to discover it. A random shot was fired into the thickest 
bunch of leaves and the frightened squirrel sprang to the 
ground. Recovering in an instant from the shock of the 
desperate leap, it scudded away to the cover of the woods 
at a rate that defied the pottering aim of two guns, and 
their futile charges raked the turf far in its rear. Of 
course the event reminded Antoine of one man in Canada 
whose adventure he proceeded to relate, while the others, 
crawling on their hands and knees, gathered the fallen 
nuts. 
"You see, seh, boy, he'll was huntin' jus' sem lak we 
was, honly he was hunt for bear an' he was 'lone, jus' one 
poor leetly Frenchmans 'stid of two fat hoi' Yankee an' 
one big hugly Frenchmans. Wal, seh, he toiler bear 
tracks where it go in hole, an' he'll waa si' do'n for wait 
of it come off de hole so he can shot it. Wen he'll set 
free, prob'ly two haour, he beegin for gat dry, an' he 
stan' up hees gaun 'g'in' tree an' go on de brook for drink, 
an', seh, de bear happen for gat dry too, an' it come off de 
hole an' gat raght 'tween de mans an' de gaun, bah gosh! 
An' dat mans he'll had for run home an' lef hees gaun. 
What you t'ink for dat, hein? But dat a'n't so funny lak 
'nudder man Canada. He was gat bag jus' sem we was, 
honly grea' deal more bigger, an' " 
"Oh, shet your head, Ann Twine. You'd a dumb sight 
better be a-pickin' up wa'nuts 'an tu stan' there a-makin' 
up lies." 
"Dat jus' what Ah'll was goin' for do, but you an' 
Zhozeff gat it all pickup. Dat was too bad! Hoorah, 
le's go scare some more squirly." 
Going forward they soon came to the head of the bay, 
which was memorable as the scene of Uncle Lisha's and 
J oseph's first duck shooting. To-day its only visible occu- 
pant was a solitary heron so slowly wading the glassy 
shallows that he scarcely broke the perfect contour of his 
mirrored semblance. He was in long range of a clump of 
cedars, under cover of which Antoine made a stealthy 
approach, and was just on the point of firing when he 
was discovered by the wary heron, who launched himself 
upon the air in a long upward slant of labored flight. 
Antoine followed him with uncertain aim, and only pulled 
trigger when the bird was hopelessly out of range alhd a 
hundred feet above the lake. But to the wonder of the 
three beholders, as the shot whistled past the heron he 
turned a half somersault, and with beak back drawn 
for a stroke came tumbling and sprawling downward in 
apparent helplessness. Antoine raised a shout of triumph, 
Joseph began to congratulate himself on a handsome ad- 
dition to his stock of feathers, and Uncle Lisha had already 
upon his lips a rebuke for the wanton destruction of a 
harmless and worthless bird, when to his delight, the 
others' disgust and the amazement of all, the heron was 
seen to recover himself after a tumble of 20ft. and re- 
sume his even flight. The sudden terror that seized him, 
when to his ears the whistle of the hurtling shot waa the 
rush of an eagle's pinions, was relieved when he saw no 
foe above him to repel, and with regular wing beats he 
climbed the long incline of retreat, till indrawn n?ck, 
broad vans and trailing legs were blurred in a waver- 
ing speck of gray that vanished behind a cedar -crowned 
headland. 
"Bah gosh," Antoine ejaculated, recovering spoech and 
suspended respiration, "what yo' s'pose mek dat feller 
git over be keel so quik, hein?" 
"I'm dumb gland on't, Ann Twine. What d' ye w'ntu 
pester that poor ol' lunsome crane for? He aint wuth the 
paowder he burnt, an' don't trouble nob'dy." 
"Seem's 'ough he kerried off a mess o' feathers 'at I'd 
ortu had," Joseph sighed. 
"Ah'll bet you head he's s?one off for die." 
"Of ol' age, I hope, said Uncle Lisha. 
Going a little further they came to a small rock- walled 
cove, where a rude fireplace and an inverted washtub 
gave evidence of a family washing place. Here they sat 
down to enjoy a restful smoke. They were aroused 
from their reverie by shrill outcries of distress arising 
from a little distance, and hastening forward through 
the fringe of woods to learn the cause, they discovered 
a girl of 10 or 11 years with a younger child on a 
great pine stump in the middle of the field, where they 
were besieged by a gaunt old ram, who, uttering hoarse 
bleats, made frequent circuits of the tower of refuge, 
which now and then he butted with blows that sounded 
like the strokes of a beetle. 
Uncle Lisha and his party advanced to the rescue with 
loud shouts, which at once attracted the attention of the 
ram, but did not daunt him in the least, for no sooner 
did he find himself threatened by an attack in the rear 
than he charged upon his assailants so fiercely that Joseph 
and Antoine fled with all sp?ed to the shelter of the 
woods, whither the ram followed in hot pursuit. Antoine 
climbed nimbly up a low-branched tree, while Joseph 
sought refuge in a thicket of cedars, wherein he was 
assisted, as he scrambled on all fours, by a blow that 
drove him into the evergreen curtain quite put of sight of 
his pursuer. 
Having routed the main body, the doughty champion 
turned and charged upon Uncle Lisha, who, as unable as 
he was indisposed to run from an enemy, still held for- 
ward to the rescue of the children. He had almost 
reached them when the elder child cried out in great 
alarm, 
"O, look out. Look out, mister, he'll hit ye. O, dear." 
As Uncle Lisha faced about his antagonist was close 
upon him, coming at full speed with lowered head and 
assured aim, but the old man stepped aside and dexter- 
ously caught the ram by one horn as he passed. The 
sheep made vicious sidewise thrusts and struggled desper- 
ately for liberty, and though his captor was made to take 
some unusually lively steps his hold could not be 
loosened. 
"Say, sissy," Uncle Lisha called in broken words and 
sentences, "you git daown — consarn yer ol' picter — an' 
fetch me a club er a — O, you won't git away erless your 
horn comes off —stun an' I'll give him all the hommerin' 
he wants. You dasn't. Wal, then, you an' bubby git 
daown an' clipper fer the fence. I won' let the ol' tor- 
ment git away. Clipper, naow. Ann Twine! Jozeff! Come 
'ere an' fetch me a club er a stun. O, you pla,guey fraid- 
cats. I wish't I c'ld sick him ontu ye. I'd let him drive 
ye int' the lake, I swan I would." 
"Seems 's 'ough you might kinder tie his laigs, Uncle 
Lisher," Joseph suggested, venturing to peep from his hid- 
ing place. 
"Tie yer granny. I don't kerry ropes raound wi' me." 
"Put it on de bag, One' Lisha, an' tie de bag," Antoine 
shouted. 
"Fetch me the bag and I swan I will," Uncle Lisha 
responded. 
"It bes' was you hoi' him hees hin'leg of it an' Ah'll 
shot it, bah gosh!" Antoine now proposed. 
"Honh! You want tu pay for him? Well, I hain't a 
buyin' mutton. O, you dumb slinks! You hain't spunk 
'nough tu break up a settin' hen ! Come along here, you 
tarnal ol' sarpent," and despairing of receiving aid, Uncle 
Lisha led his captive about the field while he searched 
for a suitable weapon. This he found at last in the form 
of a good-sized stone, wherewith he belabored the ram's 
nose till the fight was quite taken out of him and hie 
only desire was to escape. When this became evident to 
Uncle Lisha he released his prisoner, who made a speedy 
retreat for a short distance and then partly turned about * 
as if with some intention of renewing hostilities. The 
old man hurled the stone with such true aim that it 
struck him full on the ribs, knocking the breath out of 
him with the last vestige of valor, and he retreated on 
the ends of his toes, with his back humped and his head 
violently shaken, and his stumpy tail wiggling till it im- 
parted a tremor to his whole body. 
"There, dumb yer ol' meriner picter, hev ye got 'nough 
on't?" Uncle Lisha shouted, while his victory was cheered 
with cries of delight bv the children, who had watched 
the progress of the battle through the rails of the fence, 
and by Joseph and Antoine with more discreet celebra- 
tion, less likely to attract the attention of the ram. 
"I guess you might ventur' aout here naow," Uncle 
Lisha called as the two men edged along the border of 
the woods, and he picked up the gun which he had 
dropped at the beginning of the encounter. "Oh, I'm 
'shamed on ye," he continued when with frequent back- 
ward glances tbey rejoined him and led the way toward 
the fence. "Tew gre'e growed up men' af eared of a poor, 
insi'nificant sheep." 
"Wal, seh, One' Lasha, Ah'll goin' tol' you, Ah'll a'n't 
was be 'fraid of it, but Ah'll know 'f Ah'll was gat mad, 
Ah'll keel it, me, an' Ah'll a'n't wan't it for pay it. Ah'll 
glad Ah'll a'n't gat mad. But Ah'll 'mos' was w'en up dat 
tree." 
"Wal, I never had no knack o' gittin' along wi' sheep, 
never seemed 's 'ough I hed," said Joseph. "I couldn't 
never drive 'em ner call 'em. Don't you cal'late they be 
turrible contr'y critters, Uncle Lisher?" 
The victorious champion vouchsafed no answer but a 
contemptuous snort, and now that the fence was crossed 
took the lead in the direction of a rambling old gray 
farmhouse whither the children had gone. 
"That 'ere's the haouse where aour officers got the' put- 
up-punce," he said, presently recovering his usual tran- 
quility of temper. "We common folks slep' in the 
buildin's when we wa'n't aout on the p'int. We'll g'aout 
there w'en I git me a drink, for it's turrible sightly. The' 
use' tu be a good well o' water here twenty-five year ago, 
an' if it's here yit I want some on 't, for I got consid'able 
he't up tusslin' wi' that ol' rip," 
