S60 
[Oct. 37, 1894. 
and juicy. The Texas pigeon shooting is something nice, 
and I guarantee rare sport to any visiting sportsman who 
is fortunate enough to come within our radius. 
Plenty of Ducks in the City, 
The above head line will sound rather fishy to some 
readers of Forest and. Stream, and outside of San 
Antonio it will be hard to find a corporal's guard of 
sportsmen who will believe that I saw this morning (Oct. 
10) five large flocks of bluewinga, two of gadwalls, three 
of sprigs and about 25 canvasbacks witbin the city limits 
of a city of 60,000 souls, on a body of water which is 
skirted by an electric street car line that yanks passengers 
downtown in 15 minutes. Such is a fact, however, and a 
visit to the West End Lake will not only demonstrate the 
truth of tbe above lines, but will disclose the prettiest 
body of water on eartb, picturesque surroundings and 
more fish to the square inch than any other lake in the 
country. 
Drop in and see us, you of the North. You will find 
the latch-string dangling on the outside. If you doubt it 
ask Hough, of "Chicago and the West." 
Sam Allen of Houston. 
I don't like to be personal, but I can't belp noticing a 
good man when I meet him. The above named gentle- 
man is a citizen of Houston, gentleman by birth and 
inclination, a sportsman by nature (can't help himself) 
and one of those keen blades in camp thatNimrod dreamt 
about when he wasn't hunting. Col. Allen owns a yacht 
and a few million acres of swamp lands on the Galveston 
Bay coast, and your humble servant has been his guest on 
several occassions. I have now before me a cordial invi- 
tation to join him in Galveston the last week of this 
month. The threat is made to take in the entire East 
Bay, and the ducks, geese, snipe, curlews that we will 
see will undoubtedly make good reading for our Northern 
brethren. That is, saying nothing about catching the 
red fish and trout in Oyster bayou and an occasional alliga- 
tor. The Colonel says we are to have the same yellow 
cook we have had for years. But say, I forgot to men- 
tion the oysters we will fish up every morning. 
We won't do a thing to 'em. 
Mr. Howell Rice, a devoted disciple of the rod and 
gun, captured a large garfish off Rockport last week that 
measured 7ft. Sin. from nose to tail and weighed 1321bs. 
Three hundred sportsmen in San Antonio are anxiously 
awaiting a norther, which has been predicted by the 
weather sage of St. Joseph, The first flight of bluewinged 
teal and jacksnipe have come and gone, and the swamps 
of Bexar county are left in possession of the bitterns, 
blue herons and the howling coyotes. Texas Field. 
IN THE WHITE RIVER JUNGLE. 
I visited the other day a place that was to me very in- 
teresting. Ic has been my custom for the last six or seven 
years, to spend a few weeks each summer on a farm 
aWout fifteen miles north of Indianapolis. Here I could 
louDge about, fish, either in the creek near by or in White 
River, which is little over a mile away, or (that which I 
probably followed with keenest relish) while away the 
time in the great wood, lying in wait for young fox 
squirrels. 
I have always looked upon the arrangement of this 
wood as particularly happy. It is, perhaps, a mile wide 
and two and a half miles long. Tbe central portion is 
very dense and thickly covered with underbrush. 
Through a part flows a creek, and I have spent most 
pleasantly whole days dividing my time between the 
creek and squirrel hunting. There is nothing exciting 
about such sport, in the s> nse that it is hazardous. The 
fishing is very ordinary and the hunting consists in lying 
in wait for the wily fox squirrel or catching his gray 
brother as he leaps from tree to tree. In fact, if one is 
not in search of lively sport but simply wishes to spend 
the time doing nothing, this little spot seems to me to 
offer peculiar advantages. 
It was on the occasion of my last summer's visit that 
the incident which I am about to relate, occurred. On the 
evening of what had been a hot day, I took my gun and 
started for a particular place in the wood. That place 
was the border line between the thickly under-grown 
and the open woods. It was here that I hoped, at or 
about sunset, to get some good shots at an especially 
lively lot of little gray squirrels that I knew frequented 
the place, and could only be gotten within range either 
early in the morning or late at evening. "About half an 
hour by sun," to use the vernacular, I arrived at the place 
and the fun soon began. Now this is the one exception 
to the ordinary squirrel hunting. To me, under just such 
circumstances as I now found myself, it is the most 
exciting sport with a shotgun, a few kinds of bird shoot- 
ing excepted. I chased them from tree to tree, catching 
them as they flew up or down the large tree trunks, or 
leaped from one limb to another. 
Presently there came a lull in the excitement, and I 
suddenly realized that it was sundown and that I had 
gotten a considerable distance out into the thick, under- 
grown woods. I started homeward. Just as I was about 
to emerge into the open, however, I saw a squirrel whip 
around a limb in the top of a tree. The temptation was 
too great. I must, I thought, get this one, if possible, and 
then I would go home. It would make an even dozen. 
Walking around the tree to where I could get the light 
fairJy on the top — for although it was almost dark in the 
dense woods, the tops of the tallest trees were still lighted 
up — I sat down. 1 sat there some time, my feet under 
me, my back against a huge oak, my gaze fixed upon the 
spot where I next expected to see the squirrel. I heard, 
or thought I heard, a slight noise in the underbrush in 
front of me. Straining my eyes in the change from the 
light of the treetop to the semi-darkness of the woods, I 
looked long and earnestly in the direction of the disturb- 
ance, but could neither see nor hear anything. Turning 
again to the tree, I saw the squirrel, acting at first as if 
some one were driving him around, and then apparently 
watching something almost beneath him in a way in 
which I could not account for. Moving up the safety on 
my gun, I was about to turn so that I would be in an easier 
position to shoot, when an unmistakable cracking in the 
bushes, slightly to the left and in front of me, arrested 
my attention. Straining my eyes again in the same 
direction, I saw, partly behind a clump of bushes, an 
object of some kind. I noted first that the object had a 
pair of very villainous-looking eyes, and my first thought 
was that it was a catamount; for I believed the dense 
jungle part of that Woods capable of producing any kind 
of a wild animal, and report had it that a catamount had 
for some months dwelt there. He had, I thought, unex- 
pectedly come upon me, and would, if I urged the matter, 
give me a fight. I had not the slightest notion of urging 
the matter. 
However, in much less time than it takes to tell it my 
eyes had become accustomed to the dusk and I saw, not a 
catamount, or any ordinaay American beast, but a real, 
bona fide, full-sized, shaggy-maned lion. I at once knew 
how to account for his presence there, and mentally re- 
proached myself for my own incredulity. It was reported 
throughout the country that a lion had escaped, two days 
before, from a show at Hobbsville, and was running 
about, no one knew where. However, as we at uncle's 
had not yet received the weekly papers, and had no 
authentic information concerning it, we did not believe 
it. Some of our neighbors believed it so implicitly that 
they were almost afraid to venture out of their houses. 
When we were discussing it at my uncle's and mentioned 
the fact that the man-eater had not been heard of in 
miles of us, and was not even reported to have taken that 
direction, I could have found it in my heart to "guy" 
some of our good country folk. Now, I confess, as I re- 
called it all, a feeling of profonnd respect for them came 
over me. 
There he stood, not in the noble, defiant-looking atti- 
tude in which I had always seen him pictured, and had 
often beheld him in menageries, but half crouching, his 
ponderous head lowered almost to the ground, his tail 
nervously switching, he reminded me of a cat about to 
spring upon a bird. It was pleasant to think that I was 
the bird. 
My first active impulse after I had gotten through with 
these reflections, which had scarcely taken the fraction 
of a second — for a man's mind, in cases of great danger, 
as in dreams, is capable of the most wonderful activity — 
my first impulse was, I say, to flee. I confess I never 
had so good an opinion of my legs as I had then. I felt 
easily able to out-sprint Mr. Leo or whatever his name 
was, and leave him out there all alone in the dark. But 
that would have been cowardly. Besides, despite my 
unusual and unwarranted opinion of my legs, my better 
judgment told me it would be an injudicious move. That 
lion, I reasoned, wanted me as badly as I didn't want 
him, and to get me he would have to cross an open place 
almost 10yds. wide. I did not think he could leap at one 
bound, and if he tried it I hoped to be able to give him 
his quietus. I also believed that the first one of us who 
made amove would make a mistake. My gun, al2-gauge, 
was a fairly close shooter, and at 10yds. I believed I could 
end Mr. Leo's identification with the show business. I 
felt that if I did not he would end my identification with 
any kind of business. 
Meanwhile he still stood there in that half crouching 
position, his tail continuing that same nervous, cat-like 
switching. I have often heard the tail of a lion lightly 
spoken of, but I must say that this one was the most 
peculiarly exasperating thing I have ever seen. 
As we crouched there I tried to think of all I had ever 
read in books about the habits and traits of lions, but it 
was a sorry lot of information I recalled. About all I 
could remember was one of the first things I had ever 
read about them, and that was that a lion always killed 
its own prey. At the same time I remembered to have 
lately read that that was not so, and that they often pre- 
ferred to eat the game killed by some one or something 
else. I sincerely hoped — and felt that it was hoping 
against hope — that this one would turn my execution over 
to some animal or something, I did not care what it was, 
just so it would not glare at me so and switch its tail in 
such an indt scribably uncomfortable manner. 
Then, in the event of me coming out second in the ap- 
proaching encounter — which did not seem at all improb- 
able — I began to think of matters I would like to have 
arranged. There was this or that favor I would like to 
have done a friend, and I remember there was one pet 
scheme or theory I had long cherished that I would then 
have given a great deal to have communicated to some 
one. But there was no one to tell it to but Mr. Leo, and 
I was not, at that time, upon sufficiently confidential 
terms to warrant me in broaching the subject to him. 
All these and many more things passed through my 
mind in an incredibly short time. I began to feel bad, 
and the more I thought about my chances tne worse I 
felt. All the evil things I had ever done — there were no 
good ones, I believe — stalked before me, and I felt still 
worse. A remorseful conscience was about to shatter 
what little nerve I had, up to that time, retained. I fully 
realized that I was getting in a bad way, and with what- 
ever feelings of the ludicrous I can now look back upon 
my plight at that moment, I cannot forget the fact that 
it was a matter of extreme seriousness with me at the 
time and, withal, a painful experience. 
It was, perhaps, fortunate for me that the enemy de- 
cided to move at this juncture. All this time I sat there 
in a position ready to Bpring, as I fully intended to do, 
without moving a muscle, and, aside from the beating of 
my heart, I believe, making no noise. Short as was the 
suspense, it was so harrowing that I do not think I could 
have endured it much longer. Watching him closely as 
I was, his movement was so quick that he almost took me 
by surprise. I can not now tell, with a satisfactory de- 
gree of certainty to my own mind, how he did it, but, 
since from his position he could not leap directly toward 
me, I believe he meant to reach me by two leaps, a sort 
of a flank movement and an attack direct. On account, 
as I said, of the extreme rapidity of the movements, the 
semi-darkness which had begun to envelop the woods, 
and my wrought up state of mind, I can not tell exactly 
how it happened, but I think I fired as he struck the 
ground the first time. As I did so I leaped to one side.- 
He came on and landed almost where I had been sitting, 
but a few feet short. As he came to the ground he let 
forth a roar which almost deprived me of my wits, and 
came near causing me to drop my gun. I was now thor- 
oughly desperate, however, and as he turned crouching 
toward me the second time, I covered him square and 
gave it him full in the forehead. Again I leaped to one 
side, this time fully resolved to try the sprinting tactics; 
but in a bound or two I landed fairly in the kindly em- 
brace of a huge spicewood bush. I have often thought of 
that amusing — though at the time painful — predicament, 
and wondered that I did not die right there. In my 
frantic efforts to extricate myself I almost tore my clothes 
off and scratched myself in a frightful manner. As soon 
as I had gotten out I saw that I was only making a fight 
against a spice bush, and picking up my gun I reloaded it 
and advanced toward the enemy. He lay almost where 
I had given him the second shot, apparently lifeless. Un- 
willing to take any risk, and determined to make assur- 
ance doubly sure, I shot him again in the forehead. He 
did not move, and I decided he was dead. Then I sat 
down to recover my wind and my wits. Presently I began 
thinking of the peculiar manner in which the beast had 
acted after his second leap. I went and examined him 
and found that my first shot had torn away a portion of 
his under jaw and disabled a foreleg. That accounted for 
his slow motion, and was the reason I was able to shoot 
before he could spring the third time. 
I then started for my uncle's. I did not want to tell 
him what I had really done, so I told him I had killed a 
hog. He gave it as his opinion, and in no very uncertain 
terms, that a man who had as good a pair of legs as I had 
and in a place where so many clubs were to be found as 
were there, who would then deliberately shoot a hog was 
a fool. He declared he would not help me haul it in, and ' 
hoped it would cost me a good round sum for my "fool- 
ishness." When I explained my tattered and scratched 
condition by saying that I did it running through the 
brush trying to keep out of the porker's'way he made so • 
much fun of me that I almost lost my temper. I pre- 
vailed upon one of his hired men to go with me, and 
when we were almost there I explained to him that I had 
not really killed a hog, but another kind of animal which 
he should see when we got there. I believe he thought I 
had killed a man, for the way in which he turned toward ' 
me seemed to indicate that he was disinclined to credit 
either of my stories. Finally we got to the spot, satis- 
factory explanations were offered, and after a good dealt 
of tugging, we got Mr. Leo aboard and hauled him home ■ 
in state. The next day his keeper and another man came ■ 
for the carcass and I kept one claw. 
The other day I stood on the very spot where it had all ' 
occurred. I took the claw (now mounted and arranged 
for a watch-charm, though I never use it as such) from 
my pocket and thought of the encounter. Then I walked I 
over and stood by that huge spicewood bush which had! 
apparently recovered from my furious attack; and as It, 
thought of the way in which I had done battle there and ! 
had assailed that perfectly respectable and well-meaning . 
bush I said half aloud, "After all, old man, there's where i 
you made your best fight." 
Then I walked meekly back to my uncle's. 
C. E. WlLKINS. . 
BOSTON GUNS. 
Boston, Oct. 20. — Coot shooting along the Msssachus. 
setts shore has been excellent of late. The recent gales 
and stormy weather has sent forward large flights of}' 
these birds, and the gunners have been on tbe gEouawi,, 
making some very good bags. Mr. Geo, T. Freeman a».<i 
his friend, Mr. O, W. Whittemore, have been roakin,g a 
good week's shooting at Anisquam. They were on, the 
shooting gz-ounds at that celebrated cooting point during 
one of the recent gales, and report an unusually large 
number of coot flying. They got as high as thirty in a 
day on the best days. They did not gtt the usual number 
of old squaws, eider, black and other ducks. The same 
report comes from the cape. A gunner told me he had 
taken a few black duck this year at points where he got 
twice as many last year. "There are millions of coot," 
he remarked. From the leather trade there are a num- 
ber of noted gunners out this week. 
There is a scarcity of partridges, or ruffed grouse, com- 
plained of in the Boston market. Noted salesmen, who 
have been in the business for years, say that the trade 
started off well, with a good many birds to offer, but 
later they have stopped coming. One thing is curious, 
the number of partridges that have flown into the towns, 
and alighted on houses and fences. Windows have also 
been broken by these birds. Two or three have been 
seen on fences and buildings in the cities of Auburn and 
Lewiston, and one or two have been shot. One has been 
shot in a graveyard at Bangor, and one or two within the 
city limits. At Machias one is reported to have flown 
into the office of a noted lawyer, smashing the glass and 
falling exhausted on the floor. 
The accounts of deer shooting in Maine are still of the 
most glowing character. Many Boston gunners are re- 
turning with the full quota of the Jaw — three deer. 
Moose, too, are being taken in numerous instances. One 
or two big Maine moose have already been cut up and 
sold in the Boston market. Lynn has a big moose on ex- 
hibition, the good luck of a local gunner. Bangor 
butchers have cut up several moose, and nearly every 
other city in the State has had its moose on exhibition. . 
But the moose lies are the most excitmg. A Maine girl 
has been treed by a moose, some portions of her dress 
being caught on the animal's horns. A moose has walked ! 
dehberately up the streets of Machias, and out of love for/ 
the Maine game laws, which have so well protected his; 
kind, he started to walk up the court hourse steps, butc 
was frightened away, This was before the beginning off 
the open season. A big bull moose was found in a New- 
port farmer's pasture, with his horses. The farmer went 
out on a dark night to ' 'catch the old mare," when what 
was his surprise, as he put the halter over her head, to 
find that she had horns spreading 6 or 8ft. 
Mr. S. B. Woodman is on a hunting trip with his 
friends, P. J. Bessee and Capt, Elliot Rogers, who metthe 
party at Machias, having sailed in his four-masted schooner 
from Boston to that point. From Machias they went to 
Princeton. There they have taken Indian guides and 
gone up the river. They have been absent a week at the 
time of this writing. A big bear has reached the market 
here to-day, and it has doubtless come from one of these 
hunters, though full reports have not yet been received. 
Mr. S. C. Dizer, so well known as a lover of trout fish- 
ing, is absent in the Maine woods. There are reports that 
he has already taken two deer, but not being satisfied with 
their heads, he is trying for his third one, with the hope 
of getting a better head and antlers. Mr. Dizer has taken 
his big trout, aad now it is an antlered buck that he is 
after. Mr. L. Dana Chapman is absent at the Megantic 
preserve. He has gone this time with several thousand 
landlocked salmon of one year old, the quota allowed him 
for the Megantic Preserve by the Maine Fish Commis- 
sioners. He will try for a deer on this trip, and his 
chances of success are good. 
Mr. and Mrs. Westley Jones are back from another 
annual hunting trip to the Adirondacks, and from their 
hunting lodge, Camp Kickapuck. Mr. J. Rolin Stuart 
